Summary: The second part in a three part series. Willow's pov. :)
Spoilers: Um... does Dangerous Alliances count as something to be spoiled?
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, no matter how much I wish they
were. < sigh > They belong to Joss Whedon and the WB I have to live
with borrowing them for my stories.
Rating: PG13, maybe
This is for all the people who are so nice and crazy to have liked
Dangerous Alliances that they asked for a
sequel. I bet you're just kicking yourselves now! heehee.
by: Amy
Buffy sighed at me for the third time. I finally glanced up, shamed out of my daydream for not listening to my best friend. I met her eyes with a guilty look and she glanced closer at me in concern. "Will? You okay?"
I only nodded, managing a smile to make up for letting my mind wander off. "Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about... things." Things. People. Him. God, I can't tell her that.
She smiled sympathetically. "Oz and Xander again?"
"Something like that," I murmured. "So, what were you saying?"
She grinned. "Just wondering when you wanted to meet at the Bronze tonight. I gotta go beat the crap out of my new Watcher in a minute, so I was clearing the schedule. Eight okay?"
"Mm hmm," I agreed distractedly. Buffy laughed at me and squeezed my arm before getting up and leaving me with my thoughts.
My thoughts. My horribly betraying thoughts to everything I knew was right; to Oz, to Buffy, to Giles. What would they say? I can't exactly blurt out that I can't stop thinking about a demon. I can't really tell them that I want to talk to him again, that the sound of his voice is like a drug. There's no way they would understand me staying up late on my computer, trying to hunt down a number where I can reach him.
I'm sick. Admitting it is the first step to overcoming the problem, right? I'm sick, I'm sick, I'm sick.
I mean, I had thought about him, of course. It's perfectly natural. He kidnapped me, he threatened me. Was I not supposed to think about him? I guessed that it was perfectly acceptable the amount of thoughts I had on him... Just maybe not the specific thoughts I was having.
I've never been good at fantasizing. I always figured that it was because I was too restrained, too reserved, too shy. I mean, my imagination has run off with me quite a few times, about Oz, about Xander, even about Giles, but never like it has been in the few months since I had seen him.
I thought about his hands constantly, the hands that were able to inflict pain so easily, the hands that had hurt me as he tangled his fingers in my hair and screamed at me to obey him. I wondered if they could feel different, more gentle. I wondered if they could wander over my body like I had dreamed. I imagined his coldness against my heat and imagined creating a friction I had only heard about. Science is very clinical and cold. There is only so much you can know before you have to learn the rest without reading or listening.
And that's what I had been doing the past couple of years. I had been diligently learning, looking for ways to fight what I was now craving, losing my innocence way too fast in a scary world.
I wondered if his mouth, the mouth that drank stolen blood could taste as wonderful as I guessed; If he would be angry or sweet. I wondered which I preferred.
When he laid his head against my chest that night, I was sure he could hear my heart thudding in a wicked harmony with his sobs. I wondered what he would think, what he would do, if he knew what I had been thinking, or if he had realized that I was getting warm and hot in different places all over my body. Oz is so wonderful that he made me forget my disloyal thoughts, though, and I was beginning to feel comfortable again. I was starting to get that delicious warm and hot feeling when Oz kissed me, and the memories were fading quickly.
And then Spike called me.
As soon as I heard his voice, everything came flooding back. His voice, that husky, angry voice; his hands floating over my hair before he collapsed into tears, the ache I had when he was around-- Everything. And I hated myself for it. I was Buffy's best friend. We fought against those like him. Why was I getting so bothered by a demon?
Because he was sexy, I admitted to myself. Shallow but true. Because he made me aware of things that I hadn't thought were possible, things about myself that I had been sure I would never have to deal with. So, when I heard his soft "Witch?", I dropped the phone.
When I picked it up off the floor, I heard his soft laughter mocking me. Uncertainly, I spoke to him. "Sp-Spike?" I closed my eyes as I sank weakly into a nearby chair. His face drifted into my mind, and I studied it silently as I waited for him to talk.
"Yeah, Love, it's me," he practically growled, making me wince. I breathed out slowly, whistling.
"Is..." Worried and scared, I managed to finish my sentence. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"No," he answered casually. "I'm simply checking up on things, making sure you got out of the factory instead of being left there by the idiot who calls herself the Slayer. How long did it take for her to come in and save the day?" I cringed angrily, not only over his reference to Buffy, but because of the memories that question conjured.
Laughing harshly, I replied. "She wasn't the one who found us. Some friends of ours came to the rescue. My boyfriend-- He's a werewolf. He followed the scent."
Spike chuckled, surprised. "So you're fine?"
I nodded, though he couldn't see me, and was swept with a sudden wave of fear. Why did he care? I was someone who had worked against him. I was his mortal enemies' best friend. Was he...
"Yes. What's going on? ...Are you going to come back and try to kill us?" I voiced my fears. His laugh calmed me a little, though, and I breathed out again.
"Not right now, maybe later. Thanks for asking." I relaxed, realizing from the fuzzy sound of the phone that he wasn't calling from anywhere nearby. I was safe. At least, safe from getting hurt.
"So," he added unexpectedly, "What made you decide to become a witch?"
I smiled in bewilderment, but willing to play along for a while. "Well, I guess it happened after Miss Calendar died," I murmured softly. "She was the teacher who Angelus... You know, Giles's--"
"I know," he interrupted gently.
I looked at the ceiling, as though it would provide me with answers before I continued. "Well, she was a friend of mine. I guess... I guess she was everything I wanted to be, smart, confident, pretty. And when she died, I was asked to take over her computer class. She had left behind a lot of disks and notes about her clan and the spells they had used, and I went through them. I tried a few of the minor spells, you know, fire out of ice, that sort of thing, and eventually it became a serious interest."
"Is that how..." He trailed off and I smiled to myself.
"Yeah, that's how Angel got his soul back. God, that was a freaky experience." He chuckled at my words.
"So, then, you're becoming like her," he stated. I smiled softly.
"I hope so. I can only wish to be everything that she was," I whispered.
"Well, it seems to me that all you need to work on is the confidence she had." I blushed at the hidden compliment and breezed by the subject before I got more embarrassed than I already was.
"So, tell me about Drusilla. Did you get her back?" I asked, not caring, hating the female vampire with a sudden burning sensation in my chest.
We talked for what seemed like forever. Like the oldest of friends learning new things about one another, we stayed on the phone for more than an hour. The few times that Buffy came into my mind, I brushed her away, not wanting to feel the confusion and guilt that would surely follow me around after I got off the phone with Spike.
As we talked, I imagined that he was there, in front of me, relaxed and calm on my couch or in my bed. I imagined his lips calming me as his voice so easily had, those cold lips pressed to my own. I wondered what it would feel like to fall asleep next to him; wondered if he even slept. I had never seen him in anything other than his black jeans and red shirt, so it was amazing to me that I could picture him out of them. It was amazing to me that I was even doing that.
He finished telling me a silly story about when he was human, about how his sister had locked him out of the house when he had come home too late, and I giggled hysterically, ungracefully blurting out the question that had been on my mind for almost our whole conversation. "Spike, do you have a soul again somehow?"
He went silent and I froze, cursing myself for being so stupid. "I just meant," I amended softly, "You're so funny and so- so nice and I didn't know that you were, and a lot like... a lot like," I stammered, losing steam quickly. Was I insulting him? I had meant everything I said as a compliment. Oh, God, why was I even entertaining my thoughts?
"A lot like Angel?" he asked in a low, dangerous tone.
"Well..." I floundered, not knowing what to say anymore, or what he would do if I confirmed what I had been thinking.
His voice was a little softer when he spoke, but the words felt like a slap in the face. "No, I don't. I'm a demon, Willow. Accept it. You've been talking to a demon. You've been having a good time with a demon."
And then I heard a hiss of some kind come over the other end of the connection, and the phone slammed down, hurting my ear. I winced, upset that I had even allowed myself to be thinking the thoughts that I had been... Upset that I upset him, I admitted.
And then I looked behind me.
Oz was staring at me, a mixture of hurt and confusion on his face. I winced, running forward to him. He let me hug him and he returned my hug, but when he pulled away, he looked at me in worry. "Is there something you need to tell me, Willow?" he asked cautiously.
I shook my head vehemently. "No. Spike just called me and... he wanted to know what was going on in Sunnydale. I was- I was playing along." My voice cracked at the obvious lie. I've never been good at lying. He winced and shrugged calmly out of my arms to hold my shoulders with his hands.
"You would tell me if it was something more than that, wouldn't you?" Tears came into my eyes at his words, that he was taking everything I was saying at face value an trusting me so easily. I nodded, not giving my tongue the chance to disagree with me. It occurred to me to wonder how long he had been standing there, but, like most thoughts I didn't want to deal with, I pushed it out of my head before it could take root.
He kissed me softly, his lips barely grazing over mine, and I trembled at the love I felt for him. So what was it I was feeling for Spike? Was it fascination or something deeper? Could it be simply lust or curiosity? I couldn't be sure.
So now I lie in Oz's arms on my couch as we watch a movie and wonder about everything that was said today. Was I really lying to Oz? Was I being unfaithful by my feelings towards Spike? And what had Spike been thinking? Why was he so... wonderful? What was going on in his heart?
I hate not knowing the answers.
I hope to get them soon.
The End
Go on to the next part...Uncertain Cures