Transitory Evils

Part 8 A Day in the Strife of Willow Rosenberg


Approximately three months after Part 6


The first warning Xander and Anya had was the crashing of glass. The second came only moments later as three Fyarl demons crashed through the remains of the window. The newly married couple were working alone at the shop, checking inventory. Cordelia and Giles had gone out to dinner, a development that Xander still found vaguely disturbing; although by Hellmouth standards, having your surrogate father dating your ex girlfriend was a very trivial matter.

Xander reacted faster than Anya, trying to get to the weapons cabinet for something to fight the intruders with. Even as he reached out for something, one of the demons backhanded him, sending him flying across the room, to land in a crumpled heap. Anya watched cautiously as the trio of demons began to look for something. She had no idea what they were searching for, but they were rifling through the talismans she kept on a rear shelf.

Xander staggered to his feet and lurched towards Anya. She was crouching behind the counter, looking for something. As Xander reached her, he saw Anya pull out a pump-action shotgun. Xander’s eyes bulged as Anya pointed the firearm at the three burglars. “Get out of my shop!” Anya snarled at them.

They turned to look at the slender girl and laughed. “Got what I want. Going,” one growled in Fyarl.

“Drop that right now! Or I shoot!” Anya snapped back in the same language.

The three Fyarl turned as one and began to leave. Anya didn’t hesitate. She fired. A round of bearshot caught one of the Fyarl in the lower spine, but it simply staggered and shrugged off the damage. As they stepped back out the broken window, Anya threw the shotgun down and screamed in frustration. “Why don’t they load these stupid things with silver?” She yelled at Xander.

Xander decided that some questions are best answered by a helpless shrug.

“Well,” Anya asked, waspishly, “are you going to help me chase them? They stole from my store!”

Xander sighed. “What are we going to do when we catch them anyway, hon? Use harsh language?”

Anya stamped her foot. “Xander, get the silver daggers from the display case. And hurry! They’re getting away!”

Xander knew when to stop resisting. Thinking to himself ‘Resistance is futile. God what a Trek-nerd I am,’ he went to the display case and removed the two silver-inlaid blades. He returned to Anya. “Any idea where they went An?”

“They went down the road. Get the car Xand, we have to follow them!”

Xander rolled his eyes as he went to get the car and his wife fumed impatiently, her anger growing with each passing moment.

Xander pulled the car up outside the front of the shop, leaned over and opened Anya’s door. Sliding in, she fixed Xander with a stare. “We have to catch them. They stole my stock! How can I make money if people steal?”

Xander, still thinking in ‘Star Trek’ terms, engaged the drive and moved off, heading in the direction of the Fyarl demons.

“Faster Xander.”

”An, hon, I’m already pushing the speed limit. I could go faster, but if we got pulled over, what would we say?”

Anya glared at Xander, upset about his practicality. She wanted a knight who would charge fearlessly after the. ‘e. ‘Well, what else would someone born in to a feudal society want?’ Anya asked herself rhetorically.

“Look! Look! There they are.” Anya squealed in excitement. Xander swung the wheel hard and accelerated down the quiet suburban road. They were rapidly closing on the three demons now and Xander, still feeling slightly remote from everything, sped directly towards them. The Fyarl demons looked up to see the car hurtling toward them and reacted as any rational creature would, they dived for cover.

The nearest place of safety was an apartment courtyard and the creatures ran in there. Xander brought the car to a screeching halt and almost before it had stopped moving, Anya was out and in hot pursuit, yelling “Stop! Thief!”

Xander followed her as soon as he could. The demons however, weren’t stopping. They crashed through a window and into a ground floor apartment.

* * * *

Spike stood, leaning back against the basement wall. He was dressed in only his jeans and a leather vest. He looked down at Willow, who was kneeling naked before him. He reached out to run one hand through her red hair, letting it cascade sensually between his outstretched fingers before he wrapped his hand around it and pulled her to her feet.

Willow cried out softly as the tug on her scalp sent surges of desire through her whole body and, as Spike pressed his lips hard against hers, she moaned in open need.

Spike broke the kiss and whispered into her ear, “Spanking bench pet. Now.”

Willow managed to gulp and gasp at the same moment. She climbed to her feet and walked quickly to the bench, lying forward on it and allowing her limbs to match the legs of the bench. Spike moved slowly toward her and knelt, cuffing each wrist and ankle in turn to the bench legs. Once Willow had been firmly secured Spike stood back and looked at her, avid.

“Pet, it’s been far too long since we did this.”

Willow looked up, “Spike, we played only two days ago!”

“Q.E.D.”

Willow laughed. “Honestly Spike, I think you’re insatiable!”

“I’d rather be in you pet,” Spike leered back at her.

Willow managed to blush at Spike’s remark. ‘Okay, I’m naked and tied to a spanking bench. Master’s wearing only those jeans and a vest and I still manage to blush? I’m warped.’

Spike leaned over and kissed the back of her neck gently. He then began to slowly, enticingly lick down Willow’s spine. She moaned repeatedly as he teased her with his tongue. He eventually reached the base of her spine and stood up, leaving Willow writhing helplessly on the bench. She could hear him moving behind her, but had no inkling of what was to happen when he swung a leather paddle, striking her butt with enough force to make her cry out involuntarily.

Spike began to rhythmically and methodically work over Willow’s behind, not hard enough to really hurt but with sufficient force to sting and make her skin begin to glow. He could detect Willow’s growing arousal as he continued the paddling. The blond stopped for a moment and ran one finger over her cleft.

The redhead shuddered in her restraints at Spike’s teasing. “Goddess!” Willow cried out. “So good!”

Spike chuckled and resumed the paddling. He had perhaps slapped Willow four or five times when they heard a massive crash of glass from above.
* * * *
Anya leapt through the shattered window as she chased the three Fyarl demons. Xander was gaining and only a few yards behind her. As he also entered the apartment in pursuit of his wife, he thought to himself, ‘Why does this look familiar?’

Xander had no time for reflection as he rushed after Anya. He heard a series of crashes ahead of him. There was a splintering which Xander thought was a Fyarl demon smashing through the back door, and a strange strangled cry that he couldn’t identify.

He turned into the hallway to see Anya beginning to climb down into the floor via a trapdoor on the floor of the passage, the knife firmly clenched between her teeth.

Again Xander followed, concerned at the repeated sounds of fists and fists hitting something. When he got to the bottom of the steps he turned to see Spike literally thrashing the Fyarl demon, which was attempting to cover itself and fight back. Spike had a small black bat in one hand and was repeatedly belabouring the demon with it, yelling incoherently about privacy, that a man’s home was his castle and voyeuristic demons being all too common on the Hellmouth.

Xander stood, open-mouthed as he saw Spike fully enraged for the first time. The Fyarl demon was rocking back and forth, obviously stunned and still Spike continued. Then Xander heard a small voice from behind him. “Hi Xan. What’s up?”
* * * *
Willow was caught in sheer disbelief. First a Fyarl demon had literally fallen into the playroom, and Spike had gone utterly berserk. He was a blur as he beat the demon savagely. Then, Anya and Xander had come down the stairs in pursuit, she assumed, of the demon. Anya was standing, poised and ready to strike, if any opportunity presented itself, while Xander merely looked bewildered.

“Hi Xan. What’s up?” Willow asked, realising that whatever the outcome of the fight was going to be, she was in so much trouble that she would need daylight shipped in to read by.

Xander turned round and his jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A blushing and completely naked Willow his best friend tied to something while Spike was busily beating a demon up.

‘Ho ear earth do I explain this?’ Willow asked herself.

‘Why’s Willow there, and why doesn’t she look scared?’ Xander pondered. ‘Why did Spike tie her up?’

Spike delivered a final roundhouse kick, landing in a guard position as the Fyarl demon keeled over like a felled tree. He looked up and his mouth fell open as he saw Anya and Xander looking at him.

“What’re you doin’ ‘ere?”

“We were chasing this thief,” Anya said, viciously kicking the unconscious demon in the spine. She bent down to pick up the talisman that the Fyarl had stolen; it looked like a shiny dime in its huge paw. She looked up as she answered Spike. “It stole something from the … oooooooh! I like what you’re doing to Willow!”

“Oh Goddess!” Willow wailed.

Anya walked over to the spanking bench and began to examine it with a proficiency that Willow and Xander both found profoundly disturbing. “Nicely made spanking bench, Spike,” Anya observed. “Good solid construction, hardwoods throughout, nicely padded so Willow doesn’t get the wrong marks. I’ve got some plans for some other devices, if you’re interested.”

“Spanking bench? Spanking bench?” Xander turned from Anya to Spike. “If she doesn't do what you want, you spank her? Trying to keep her in line?” Xander yelled at Spike. The young man’s reaction was immediate. He leapt at Spike, fists flailing wildly.

“Xander! No!” Willow shouted, as Anya tried to pull her enraged husband away and Spike coolly parried the blows that Xander was raining down on him. “Calm down Chubs. Calm down. I’m not harming her.”

“Xander, please!” Willow pled; as Anya lost her already badly frayed temper and reached down to inflict a savage wedgie on her husband.

“OWWWWWWWWWWW! Damn it Anya, that HURT!”

Spike looked over at Willow, her face beet red and almost in tears. “Pet, that really had to’ve hurt him. He didn’t say ‘Great Googly-Moogly’ or ‘Suffering Succatash’.”

Willow giggled in spite of her embarrassing position. She realised she had no option other than to try and handle the situation that had arisen.

“Xander, listen. And listen carefully,” Anya said in a total no-nonsense tone. “Just because you find something unacceptable, it doesn’t mean that others do. And, if you recall, we have tried spanking ourselves.”

“But that’s different An. I wasn’t tied down to anything. You didn’t force me.”

Willow sighed, she realised that there was only one option. She focused her will and forced the restraints apart, with them eventually tearing in a ripping sound that made everyone wince. “See, Xander, I’m not being made to do anything I don’t want to.”

Having said that, Willow concentrated again and a long silken robe appeared. She donned it quickly then slid of the bench and knelt at Spike’s feet. She looked at the floor as she began to speak. “Master, I regret having to do that, and I accept whatever punishment you consider appropriate for damaging the restraints.”

Spike smiled down at her. He was astonished that she had acted in this manner. Astonished and pleased. “We’ll discuss that later, girl. For now though, I think we should all go upstairs and talk.”