Title: Snippet
Author: Ash
E-Mail: ash_j66@hotmail.com
Feedback: Yes, hopefully.
Site: http://member.dencity.com/Xanadu/
Disclaimer: Willow and Spike belong to Joss Whedon, I make no claim on them.
Distribution: Oh, take it. It's just my mind playing tricks on you.
Summary: Willow has to do Spike's taxes. Don't even ask.

_____
Willow cowered against the wall. "What do you want?"

Spike exhaled, the cigarette smoke veiling his features like a fine
gauze veil. "Nothing life threatening, pet. I'm here to make you an
offer." His smile was a promise of violence, mocking the apparent
harmlessness of his words.

"Oh. Oh!" Her mind instantly jumped back to the "Having" conversation
that was seared into her memory. "Uh... I have a boyfriend."

His lips quirked up at one corner. "Not that type of offer.
Although..." His eyes skimmed her body appraisingly, the frank sexual
interest sending a pleasurable shiver coursing through her. She was
almost disappointed when his gaze returned to meet hers. "But this is
business."

Frowning, she echoed his words. "Business?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'm offering you a job. Don't worry... You don't
have to die. Or kill anything, for that matter."

Willow's mind went blank. Unfortunately, this didn't stop her lips
from moving. "But... but... Um, why?"

Taking a step closer, he looked down at her. "Because I think you'll
do the job right, why else?"

Sensing a route of escape, she leaped at it. "Nononono! I'm a
*horrible* employee!" Her mind sought desperately for flaws. "I
*always* oversleep!"

"You don't have to be there until sunset." He arched an eyebrow at
her. "Surely you can wake up before then?"

"Um... I guess. Uh... I'm surly! Yeah! A disciplinary nightmare!"

"You'll behave, or I'll rip your throat out. Enough incentive for
you?"

Grimacing, she nodded. "I steal the silverware?" She looked up at
him hopefully.

He laughed deep in his throat, the sound pouring out like audible
honey with just a hint left of bee stings. "You can have it, luv. I
never use the stuff." He settled his hands lightly on her shoulders.
"I prefer to use my hands."

Groaning in resignation, she dropped her gaze. "So, what is this
job?"

He smirked down at her. "Does it matter?"

She sighed. "When do I start?"



"Nu-uh. I'm not doing it." Willow turned resolutely away from the
table, Resolve Face firmly in place. She could feel Spike close
behind her, his exasperated presence making her nerves jangle with a
confused combination of fear and excitement.

His weary sigh flowed over her, the brief release of unneeded breath
ruffling the hairs at the nape of her neck. "Haven't we already been
over this, pet? Does the phrase "I guess I have no choice" ring any
bells?"

"Yeah, well that was just..." She shot an irritated glance over her
shoulder. "Don't you throw my words back at me! *I'm* not the one
who should be on the defensive here!"

Out of her line of sight, Spike grinned. "Does this mean that you
want to go on the offensive? Not a problem. I'm sure I could manage
to fend you off." His voice lowered and took on an undertone of
sensuality. "I might even try..."

Willow's hair flew out in a halo of sunset colors as she spun around,
matching her reddening face. "Spike!" She paused as the incongruity
hit her. His tone was purely sexual, but his face... His face was
contorted with the effort of appearing serious. Stifling his
laughter, he held his hands up to curtail her tirade. "Sorry. I
tried. Couldn't help myself. Really. "

Her teeth closed with an audible click. Through narrowed eyes, she
surveyed the still snickering vampire. "Try *harder*!" Turning her
back on him with evident unconcern for life and limb, she stalked back
to the table.

"Wasn't kidding about being surly." The muttered comment drew a hard
stare from Willow.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Crossing the room in easy strides, Spike came to stand
beside her. "Well, what did you *think* I wanted you to do?"

Her hands waved vaguely. "I don't know! Something technology-based!
Something to do with computers!"

A puzzled frown creased his brow. "Really? Why? I could hire some
wanker to do that kind of stuff for me."

Sighing, Willow nodded, her eyes never leaving the pile of papers
and receipts that littered the desk. "But... You could just hire
someone to do your taxes too!"

"Have *you* ever tried to explain to an accountant why you've had the
same bank account for the past sixty years? It's not easy!" His tone
held the bitter weight of two centuries experience with bureaucracy.

The corners of Willow's lips lifted in a smile as she picked up one of
the papers and read the pencilled in entry. Her lips started to
quiver. "Um, Spike? I don't think that you can put "bodies of the
dead" down as an alternate income source. And..." Her eyes widened as
she read down the page. White teeth bit into the softness of her
lower lip as she struggled to remain serious. "..for dependents? I
don't think that minions count." Giving up, she leaned against the
table and laughed helplessly.

He smiled triumphantly. "See? This is why I need you!"

Regaining control (and carefully not reading the rest of Spike's
"deductions"), she looked up at him quizzically. "Why don't you just
kill an accountant?" He looked at her and suppressed a smile.

"Um, pet? I don't think that you're supposed to *want* me to kill
people?"

Thinking over what she had said, Willow cringed. "Oh. I didn't mean
*that*! I just meant..." She floundered helplessly. "I meant... Why
didn't you? Not that I want you to!"

Spike threw himself into the wooden chair by the table with
long-limbed grace. His slender fingers drew a pack of cigarettes from
his front pocket and lit one up. Taking a long drag, he grinned up at
her. "Same old problem. I put it off too long this year. When you
give someone eternity, the first thing that they do is *not* sit down
at a table and fiddle with math. It would take a year for them to
settle down and the deadline is in a month."

Slumping slightly, she perched on the edge of the table. "Well...
Aren't there any vampire accountants?"

"Nope. None that I want to deal with, anyway." His teeth flashed in
a wolfish smile. "So it's just you and me. Do a good job, and I
might not kill you."

"Oh, that's a perk." Hopelessness strangled her voice.

He pursed his lips and looked quizzical. "I'd say that it's a pretty
major one. Think of it as a health plan."

____

Willow's head hit the table with a thump that would have been painful if
it'd hadn't been softened by the two-inch thick layer of multicolored forms.

Spike tried to look innocent. "What?"

Leaning back in her chair, she put her hands to her face. Green eyes peered
out between her fingers. "What? WHAT?! You haven't paid income tax in
*THREE DECADES* and you're standing there saying 'What?' at me?"

"Wh-" He thought better of it. "Well, why else would I *need* you? If I'd
been being the good little morally responsible vampire, I'd KNOW how to fill
out the bloody bits of paper! "

Slamming her fists down on the table, Willow narrowed her eyes as she spoke
with great distinctness. "And here I thought you were just stupid. "

It was easy to forget what Spike was when he was being pleasant. It was
even easier to forget when you were carefully explaining to him that when
they asked for "other relevant information" they didn't want to know what
he'd do to them if they didn't refund his money. In particular, they didn't
want to hear his estimates on how long it would take their next of kin to
identify the bodies. (About five days, taking into account how far away the
heads would be.)

But when his eyes gleamed like *that* and bones rippled under the skin of
his face and his lips parted in something that could only be called a smile
if you stretched the definition as far as it would go... Willow stared at
him with suddenly frightened eyes, fair nigh certain that she'd made a
mistake. < Note to self: Don't insult people who can break you in half.>
She looked at him again. His "smile" widened. < And then in half again,
probably. >

The seconds passed with crawling slowness.

And then he cocked his head to the side, and his face stretched into a real
smile. And Willow breathed again. Spike didn't. That would have been
asking a little much, even though it would have added to the drama of the
moment.

"So..." He drawled, resting one booted foot on an empty chair and leaning
forward to look at the papers. "Hadn't you better get started?"

"Um..." Willow looked down at the accumulated papers before giving up. <
After all, if it hadn't been this it probably would have been Burger King. >
"Yes, I guess so."

"Good! I'll just fetch the rest of the receipts then, and we can get
started."

She was nodding aimlessly before she picked out the important word in that
sentence. "We?"

Spike paused halfway out the door. "Of course. You're going to show me
what to do."

"But...but... Um, I'm sure you have more important things to do."

He looked pensive for a moment, then shook his head.

"Killing, maiming...?" She searched her mental list of Things Vampires Like
to Do. "Ooh! Plotting?" Smiling somewhat desperately, she wheedled
hopefully. "Come on... I'll bet you could come up with a *great* way to
destroy your enemies!"

Spike looked at her in a puzzled sort of way.

"What?"

"Nothing, pet... Do you realize that this is the second time you've
suggested I kill someone? Are you *sure* you're playing for the right
side?"

Willow blushed furiously, looking down at her hands. "Yes! I'm all for
good! Yay good! Evil is a bad, bad thing. Um... sort of by definition,
actually. And I'm a good person."

"Of course." He eyed her appraisingly, almost as if he was assessing her
goodness. Of course, that wouldn't explain why a fair portion of the glance
was devoted to her legs. "Be that as it may, it's going to be a treat
working with you, love."

"Oh, but-"

"Unless you *want* to do my taxes next year? And the year after that?" He
moved towards her. "Now there's a thought. I could use a permanent
accountant..."

Her eyes glazed over as she realized exactly what "permanent" meant to an
immortal. She chose the lesser of the two evils, and she chose it fast.
"No, no, that's fine. I'll show you how to do it. Taxes. Yes."

He was back at the door as if he'd never started advancing on her. Only the
hint of mischief in his voice testified to the exchange of a minute ago.
"Then I'd better fetch the receipts." He disappeared from view.

Willow's eyes narrowed as the sound of a chuckle trickled back in through
the door. Shaking her head, she picked up an armful of papers and started
organizing them into piles.

It was going to be an interesting job.

Part Four

Willow sat in the hard wooden chair, determinedly *not* looking at Spike.
It was unnerving how fixedly she wasn't looking at him. Her glare was
boring holes through the rest of the room while leaving the blonde vampire
untouched.

He didn't even notice.

"Love?" His accented voice was rough with frustration as he stared fixedly
down at the blinking screen. "Could you help me with this?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Willow!" His voice made it clear that refusal wasn't an option. At least
not a good option and probably not even a survivable one.

Rolling her eyes, she stood up and strolled around the table to stand behind
him and peer over his shoulder. "I told you to just get the little ten
dollar one, didn't I?"

"This one's better."

"Uh-huh." She nodded thoughtfully, lulling him into a false sense of
security before she sucker punched him. "Why?"

He glanced up at her, blue-grey eyes clouded with a mixture of confusion and
anger. "What?"

"Why is it better?"

He looked down at the rectangular black box. "Well... It's in color."

"Hm."

"And it can do graphs and junk like that." His tone was growing
increasingly defensive.

"And this makes it better for adding two numbers together how?"

Willow's logic being irrefutable, Spike didn't even try. Instead, he took
the easy way out. Standing up, he thrust the graphing calculator into her
hands. "Here. You're supposed to be a smart bit of stuff, go on and add
these up."

She looked down at the black box resentfully as she slid into his vacated
seat. She bent her head over the graphing calculator, looking for the
calculator function. Spike took up her previous position, pale hand splayed
open on the table beside her as he leant forward and stared at the screen.
Her red hair fell like a curtain over her face, a flickering sheet of
flame...

A flickering sheet of flame that was getting in the way of Spike's view.

Icy fingers took hold of Willow's hair, drawing it back from her face. She
stiffened under his touch, sitting perfectly still. The blood rushed to her
cheeks as his fingers moved against her scalp, tugging the long strands in
unfamiliar ways. Spike's eyes were intent on the top of her head as he
worked, hands moving with practiced ease.

His tone was much more relaxed when he spoke again, his hands resting on her
head for a moment before sliding slowly down to her shoulders. "There you
go, love."

Willow raised her hands to her head gingerly, feeling the unfamiliar loops
and whorls under her fingertips. "Um... thank you?"

"You're welcome." The slight huskiness in Spike's voice made it
unpleasantly probable that he'd noticed the way she'd involuntarily leaned
into his touch. Almost absently, he ran his fingertips along the smooth
line of her shoulders before letting his hands fall to his side.

There was an instant of almost perfect silence. There really should have
been a heavily charged exchange of glances heavy with unspoken emotion.
Unfortunately, for that to happen Willow would either have to develop a
revolving neck, or Spike would have to stretch out on the table like the
lounge singer in "The Fabulous Baker Boys".

Neither happened.

Instead Willow bent her head over the calculator again, small fingers moving
quickly over the keys. She felt very bare without the accustomed weight of
hair on her neck and shoulders. Her neck felt like it had a "Bite me!" sign
on it. Sighing, she put down the calculator and turned sideways to face
him. "Look, why don't we work on the parts of the return that don't need a
calculator. I'll take the manual home with me."

Spike thought about it, trying to see if agreeing with her could be
construed as admitting that he was wrong. Finally, he decided that it
wouldn't put a dent in his position of authority. "All right. What's the
next question?"

Willow's eyes skimmed down the pages finally lighting on one she'd skipped
over earlier. < Any port in a storm. > "Marital status."

"Single."

"Um..."

"I'm dead sure." Spike's voice lowered to an insinuating purr. "Thinking
of having a try at changing my answer?"

"No!" She shook her head vigorously. "No, no, no! It's just that well,
with Drusilla."

"I don't know what Angelus has been telling you, but as a whole vampires
aren't big on weddings" He put one index finger to his cheek and raised his
eyes to the ceiling in a parody of thoughtfulness. "Don't know what it is,
could be all the crosses and holy water and such."

"Yes, but you two lived together for..." She mentally figured out the rough
amount of years since Drusilla was turned. "*Definitely* long enough for
you two to be common-law married." A thought struck her, and her brain went
off on a tangent. Regrettably, her mouth followed suit.

"But maybe we should only count the years you were together since the law
making common law marriages legal was passed... Or maybe we should think
about, I mean, you weren't always in America, right? You came over here
from Europe? Maybe we should try and find out what the laws are there or...
" Her eyes widened and she spun around in her chair. "Maybe we should be
working out what you owe the *other* countries you lived in! You didn't pay
income tax there either, did you?"

Spike just stood there for a moment and regarded her with a level stare. It
was a stare common to all those who dealt with Willow. At least for all
those who dealt with her long enough to be there when her enthusiasm broke
through her reserve. Shaking off his bemusement, he smiled down at her.

"First off, no. I never paid tax in any of the countries I lived in.
Second, how long Dru and me were hooked up doesn't matter, since we've
split. Third, would working out what I owe to other countries involve any,
and I mean *any* other forms?"

Willow considered lying, but only for a moment. The thought of Spike's
reaction when the new envelopes of multicolored forms started pouring in
from all over the European continent wasn't a happy one. People tend to
worry a lot more about preserving their own lives more than they do about
the national debt of foreign countries. "Yes. There would be more forms."

"Then, no. We have enough of those things now." It was a very final
statement.

She nodded unhappily and wrote 'single' in the marital status box.

Only five hundred boxes to go.