Author: Coopster5000
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy.
Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to update, more to come.

"Willow?" Xander asked as he looked back and forth between the redhead and the stringy haired man.

"Xa-Xander, can you wait outside for a few minute," Willow stammered as she eased herself off the bed

"Yea," he said as he started making his way towards the door. "Yell if you need anything."

"Don't worry young man," Said Rack with a faux smile. "I'm only here to see how Miss Rosenberg is coming along."

"I'll be fine Xander," reassured Willow, the small smile that barely traced her lips disappeared in an instance. "This...this is my uh...my uh physical anthropology teacher."

"Yea," he said once more before exiting the room.

As the young man left the room, Rack let a weary smile run across his face as he stared a the extremely skinny redhead. Letting is eyes wonder over the redheads body, he took in her bed tossed hair, rumpled clothes, and the bags under her eyes.

Staring up at the stringy haired man, Willow couldn't help but taking in the drug dealers appearance. His crimson white polo shirt, iron to perfection was laying flat against his stomach. The slightly baggy, dark dungaree jeans he wore were held tight to his hips w ith a thin black belt. But what stood out the most to Willow was the rounded silver cross that hung limp around his neck, down to the middle of his chest, where it mingled with his gray chest hair.

"What the fuck are you doing here Rack?" Willow ask with a great deal of irritation in her voice.

"What. Cant I see my favorite client?" Smirked Rack as he shoved his hands into his front pockets. With a satisfied smirk he decide to take a few more steps into the room, casting his gaze around the barely furnished and undecorated room. "This place is kind of depressing," he laughed as he removed one hand from out of his pocket and let his fingertips graze across the oak wood of the dresser table.

"It's a rehabilitation center," she said through gritted teeth. "It's where you go when you overdose on heroine."

"We'll in all honesty," Rack said with a sly smirk. "I thought you were gonna die."

With a feral snarl, Willow lunged herself at the taller man. "You son of a bitch!" With weak arms due to detox, she threw punches at the larger man that barely affected him.

"Strawberry," he tisked as he removed the woman's arms from off his chest. Gripping the pale flesh in his own warm grasp, he twisted her wrist to the sides until he heard an addible gasp from the strugg ling redhead. "You're weak strawberry...very weak." With his right hand he pressed Willow's wrist into his left hand so that he was holding both of her arms with only one of his hands. "But I know what can help with that weakness Strawberry." He smiled down into her dull green eyes as he lifted his free hand up to the cross resting against his chest.

Removing the chain that held the curved silver sterling cross, Rack brought the object down to the oak table he had been previously running his fingers across. Releasing his grip on the weak redheads wrist, he brought his attention to the silver item. Casting his gaze on the guitarist with a smile, he twisted the top off the cross, revealing a hidden apartment. Holding the bottom of the silver object with his right hand, Rack used his left hand to hold the cap of the cross which had a small piece of bent plastic glued underneath it.

"Want some?" he asked in a knowing voice. Scoping out a small drop of white powder cut with Drano, the drug dealer gently spread the substance in a thin line along the table. "Go on Willow," he encouraged the shaking redhead. "I know you want some."

Bending at the waist until her face was hovering just slightly above the line of cocaine. She paused just before she took the hit

Xander stood by the door to Willow's room for about five minutes before heari ng a cacophony of noise coming from the lobby. Jogging to the lobby, he found his girlfriend and Faith in a heated debate.

"Oh please, its Tara's fucking fault she's like this," growled Faith.

"Why won't any of you take some responsibly for yourselves?" Questioned Anya. "It is her own fault she's addicted to ...God knows what, not Tara's!"

"Yeah, well if Tara never left the way she did none of this would ever have happened." Faith protested against her friends behalf.

"Left the way she did!" Anya practically yelled. "Do you have any clue what the hell actually happened that day Faith?"

"Well, no. Not exactly," Faith said, her eyes shifting back and forth so she wouldn't have to look at the women across from her.

"I didn't think so." Anya said, her eyes narrowed on the brunette. "Mr. Macley decided to uproot his family to New York during the middle of the night. And if you think that hurt Willow, you should really talk to Tara about that night.

"Oh yeah cause I so care about Tara." Faith said in a sarcastic tone.