Title: Never Be The Same

Author: Aerin

Email: aerin@witchery.faithweb.com

Feedback: Should encourage me. We *can* hope

Distribution: Archived soon at http://www.witchery.faithweb.com

Jai, if you want this too, you’re welcome to it. If anyone else would like it, let me know.

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and WB own it all, I’m flat broke

Rating: NC-17

Setting: End of Season 4, summer vacation. Tara probably doesn't exist.

Spoilers: Nada

Summary: Willow is on holiday and spends a night with a mysterious stranger

Notes: The title is from the Mel C song. I can’t stand her, but this song has taken over my head. I think the muse wants a little attention :)
  

Some of this is written a little differently than usual … sometimes it seems I am inside the heads of different Willows and Spikes
 
 

======================

~Part 1~

The music surged, and Willow found herself drawn into the rhythm, the ecstasy and freedom. After the slow, swelling build up of the afternoon, the festival was now crowding the pavements and canals, lanterns and a full moon casting dim light over the dark city.
 

Radios and musicians played from every street corner, mingling with the sound of people laughing and singing to create one chorus that should have been a cacophony. Yet it wasn’t, it was music.
 

Willow caught sight of Rosa from her hotel. The petite girl who worked in the reception was barely recognizable in the darkness, lantern light casting a glow over her white mask. If she had not seen Rosa as they shared a gondola to the center of the festival, she would not have known her. Even though the revelers wore only half-masks or face paint, they became anonymous. The very air was touched with sensual secrecy.
 

She shivered, despite the warm night. The excitement was so different to home … the chance to be someone different so thrilling.
 

Her hair was slicked back from her face, dark red in the shadows. She wore clusters of small white roses on either side of her head, and her mask was dull silver satin. She had painstakingly drawn silver whorls and spirals on her cheeks, and colored her lips in the same color. Her white dress was somewhat Grecian, baring one shoulder and falling in soft pleats to her ankles. A split in the skirt bared one leg almost to her hip, showing off her silver sandals which laced to the knee.
 

A fairy tale costume. A fairy tale night.
 

~
 

Willow came across him as she moved to sit by the canal with the bottle of wine she had just brought from an almost nude street vendor. She had danced and wandered her way to a quieter part of the city, where you could hear both the soft wash of the canals and also the music. Here, the musicians played softer songs on accordions or quiet guitars on the dark corners.
 

He looked up at her as she sat, cross legged, a few yards from him.
 

“Do you mind if I join you? I have my own wine, but it is not a night to drink alone, no?”
 

He spoke Italian, clearly and without the accent and dialect of the city people.
 

“Please, you are welcome,” she replied, her voice hoarse from the shouting and singing she had done earlier. “My Italian is not very good, I am sorry.”
 

“Do not be ashamed.”
 

He stood and walked to join her, sitting casually with his legs crossed in front of him. He held up his bottle and tapped it against hers with a soft chime.
 

“To … life.”
 

“To life,” she repeated, watching him covertly as they both drank.
 

He was pale in the moonlight, seemingly handsome. He wore a black mask that covered most of his face, its Batman style incising the dark material over his cheeks. It blended into his dark hair, and matched his black satin shirt and dark trousers.
 

When she looked back at his face, she realized he had been perusing her at the same time, and blushed slightly. He smiled.
 

“You are only visiting Venice?” he asked softly.
 

“For the summer,” she nodded. “And you?”
 

“The same. I lived here long ago, now I return for … for, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I was restless.”
 

“I was meant to spend time with my parents here, but they hated it and returned to Rome instead. They were busy, and I wanted to stay here.”
 

He nodded, and for a few moments they sat in silence. Then he spoke again.
 

“Have you heard that the canals are like your veins, the passages of the blood of the city, transport for your life and soul?”
 

She smiled a little at the images his words created. “No, I have not. But I can feel it. Rome was too much … Venice you can make your own.”
  

“You can hide in it … hide yourself, hide who you are,” he said in agreement.
  

“I am no-one,” she told him seriously. “But in Venice, tonight, I am the young woman in the silver sandals with the roses in her hair.”
  

She recalled the propositions she had had through the night, and Willow blushed again.
  

“Ten men will remember me, because I refused them.”
  

“Ah-ha!” he laughed. “But you have not refused me … yet.”
  

She looked at him frankly, a trace of wonder in her words.
  

“No, I haven’t.”
  

“Do I need to ask?” he inquired lightly.
  

She stood, suddenly.
  

“No.”
  

He hesitated a moment. “You may not wish to answer. But … you are old enough?”
  

She smiled softly at his concern. “Yes, I am.”
  

He smiled back, sitting his bottle neatly on the low stone wall of the canal.
  

“I have a room not far from here.”
  

~
  

He led her on a twisted path through the walkways, finally climbing a creaking wooden staircase to the upper floor of a small restaurant. Unlike her beautiful marble palazzo turned hotel, his lodgings were dark and sparsely furnished. Either his belongings were stored neatly out of sight in the ancient armoire, or he had none.
  

The man lit the large church candle atop his desk, casting a soft light over the room. As he turned back to her, she moved into his arms, lifting her mouth to his.
  

He was oddly cool from the night air, and it briefly crossed her mind that perhaps Oz had been unnaturally warm. Certainly he had been vastly warmer as the wolf. She banished the thoughts from her mind as the stranger’s kiss continued, his lips light and yet still firm on hers.
  

His tongue dove into her mouth, and she met it with her own. He raised his hands to draw her closer, cradling her back. He had large, strong hands, and she could feel the strength in his arms.
  

She drew back for breath, and paused to make certain of what she was doing.
  

“Do you have …” She bit her lip, her mind racing. Rosa had told her the word, laughing and shaking her finger in admonishment. “Condom!” she blurted.
  

He looked momentarily startled.
  

“I, I am afraid I don’t. It didn’t occur … I am happy to wear one, if you have it?”
  

“Yes,” she blushed, drawing one from the white purse at her belt, and handing it to him. He glanced at the packet with a slightly bemused look, then laid it on the shelf beside his bed. Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, he brought forth a handful of bills.
  

“For you, for a gondola to your hotel,” he said softly.
  

Willow shook her head, wondering if he could afford to.
  

“I don’t need -” she began, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips.
  

“Please, let me.”
  

She smiled, and nodded as he set the notes on the table.

~Part 2~

Willow moved from the man and sat on the bed, lifting her leg to untie the laces of her sandals. He watched her, eyes aglow. They were blue in the light, she realized, intense blue.
  

When she sat her sandals on the floor, and shifted further onto the bed, he slipped off his shoes and joined her. In unspoken agreement, their masks remained on as he covered her mouth with his own again.
  

He undressed her quickly as they kissed, her hands working to remove his shirt as well. She hissed in delight at the sight of his bare chest, admiring the pale smoothness. She ran her hands over him, her fingers brushing his nipples.
  

He gave her a curving smile, his hands cupping her breasts and his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She felt them tighten and swell beneath his touch immediately, and as he continued she threw back her head, baring her throat.
  

He leant forward and licked at her skin, the cool roughness of his tongue sending goosebumps over her shoulders. She clasped at his shoulders, and his tongue returned to her mouth, plunging inside as his hands kneaded her breasts.
  

Willow moved her hand to the front of his trousers. She gave a slight murmur as she felt the smooth, heavy leather, and the hard bulge beneath. His kiss grew more intense as she cupped and stroked him, and finally he drew away, quickly moving off the bed.
  

He drew off the trousers in a quick movement, standing beside the bed with his penis fully erect at her eye level. She knelt up and took him in her hands, stroking him softly.
  

“Beautiful,” she said softly, admiring its length and thickness.
  

He put his thumb to her mouth, rubbing over her bottom lip. Impulsively, she bent forward, and took him into her mouth.
  

He gave a little cry of surprise that quickly moved into a groan of pleasure as her fingertips moved to caress his balls.
  

“Little one … so good … oh, my little one,” he crooned as she ran her tongue over him. She engulfed more and more of him into her mouth and throat, moving her lips further up his shaft. His hand moved to the back of her head, sliding into her hair between the roses.
  

She stroked back from his balls to his ass and he surged into her mouth with a guttural cry. He repeated his thrust as she teased the sensitive skin, and she relaxed her throat as she felt the tension in his body. He moved deeper within her mouth, using tightly controlled thrusts as he clasped her head against him. She rubbed the underside of his penis with her tongue, and he gave a low, growling groan as great spurts of his sperm filled her mouth.
  

Willow swallowed eagerly, licking his penis clean as it softened in her mouth. Werewolves had to be incredibly warmer than humans in all sorts of things, it seemed.
  

He took himself from her mouth and pushed her gently back onto the bed, moving on top of her eagerly. He kissed her deeply and then dropped his head to her breast, his mouth closing over the nipple hungrily as his finger and thumb rolled the other peak.
  

She arched into him as he sucked the sensitive bud, feeling the hidden canals inside her wake from their silence. The connections between erogenous zones bonded, breasts tingling beneath his mouth and hand, dark tension in her stomach blossoming into wet warmth at her vagina.
  

His free hand moved over and then between her thighs, his thumb caressing the slick folds. She moaned and threaded her fingers through his hair, holding his mouth against her. She could feel his firming penis against her thigh, and shifted her other hand to stroke it again.
  

He sighed at her touch, and swapped his mouth and hand at her breasts. When his teeth closed lightly over her swollen nipple, his thumb and finger found her slippery clitoris, and she gasped, arching into his touch. Her fingers wrapped tighter around his penis, bringing him to readiness.
  

He moved his mouth over her breast and down her stomach, and the hand in his hair urged him further. His tongue moved lightly over the lips of her vagina, and she gave a small cry at the feel of the cool touch. She felt so hot, and he so cold.
  

His lips closed over her clitoris, sucking hard and then flicking the bud with his tongue. She writhed, her hands now clenching into the blanket beneath them. Her eyes were shut tight as she concentrated purely on the physical sensations, and as she felt the waves of pleasure crash through her, she let out a rising scream.
  

Willow opened her eyes, panting, as her body finished its tremors. Each canal within her still hummed with life, waiting and wanting.
  

“Please,” she said softly, and he smiled.
  

His hand stretched beside them, and he picked up the condom packet. Again, the briefest flash of uncertainty crossed his face, and then he ripped the foil.
  

Watching him smooth the flesh-colored latex upon his erect penis was incredibly erotic, and Willow felt herself grow even wetter. His large penis in his large hands, his expression concentrated, and then the desire in his eyes as he looked once again at her, they all made her shiver in anticipation.
  

He moved once more atop her, and she could feel him paused at her slick entrance. She bit her lower lip as she watched him, their eyes locked in an intense gaze.
  

And then he slipped forward into her. She closed her eyes and let her lip pop free, her mind focused on the feeling of him inside her.
  

His penis stretched her as he continued to sink in, filling her vagina with its hard length. Although she was wet and eager, as he pushed right in she pressed her lips together on momentary discomfort.
  

“You are okay, little one?” he asked worriedly, his hand moving to her clitoris again. His thumb brushed over the bud, and she relaxed with a smile.
  

“I am fine … please, more,” she answered softly, opening her eyes and focusing her smile upon him.
  

He smiled back and withdrew his penis almost fully, then thrust completely back inside her. She smiled wider and gave a whimper of pleasure. He drew his forefinger to help twist her clitoris and she cried out, lifting her hips to meet his as he thrust again within her. His lips dropped to hers, and she entwined her fingers in his hair.

She felt the tension ripple through her body as he twisted her clitoris in time with his deep penetrations, and tore her mouth from his to gasp for air. His lips moved to her throat instead, sucking hungrily. Finally he moved his mouth, urging her hurriedly.
  

“Quickly, little one, are you there?”
  

She answered him with a long cry, her hips rocketing forward and her vagina tightening on his penis. He thrust deeply inside her twice again, and then stiffened within her, his back arched as he gave a grunting yell.
  

He collapsed against her briefly, then rolled off her onto his back, removing the condom and tying it with a distinctive snap.
 

~Part 3~

Willow watched the airport and its surrounding fields grow distant, her heart longing to go back already. If there had been vampires in Italy, which she was sure there were, she had not seen a single one during the months she had spent in Venice or her time in Rome. Therefore it had been peaceful, safe … she had spent day after day working on her Italian, reading and writing, walking all over the city and making hundreds of memories.

And of every memory, she still wondered who the dark-haired stranger was. She had been so tempted to stay in his arms through the night, but they had both known the unspoken rules of the festival, that it had been one night.

One amazing night that she couldn’t let go of, that she hungered to feel again.

She rubbed idly at the bracelet she had had made by a small family jeweler in her favorite part of the city. It was a simple but thick silver chain, from which hung a polished Spanish coin from the turn of the previous century. She had found the worn silver coin on the step outside his room, and taken it as her memory, her keepsake.

The land below her disappeared, ocean fading below the clouds as she returned home.

~

“Wills!”

“Buffy!”

The two girls hugged in delight, bouncing up and down. Willow looked over Buffy’s shoulder to see if Xander was as happy to see her.

He gave her a disinterested nod, then grinned and joined their hug.

“So, soldier, how was Europe? Did you bring me back stuff? Did you go to a nude beach?”

“Xander!” Willow laughed, hitting him lightly. “Europe – well, Italy – was unbelievable. Incredible. Yes, I brought everyone presents. And no, I didn’t go to a nude beach. Nor did I swim in the canals. But, oh … I think I did everything else.”

“Including an affair with a handsome Italian?” Buffy whispered loudly.

Willow blushed furiously. “No! Well … no. Sort of. Uh …”

Xander and Buffy gaped at her.

“You _what_?” Buffy breathed.

“Well, uh, not really an affair. And I don’t know where he was from, Europe I think. And … and I’m not telling you this!”

“Go Willster,” Xander said faintly.

“Anyway. Can we actually go inside now? Can I see my stylish, off-campus apartment?” She paused dreamily. “Wow, that sounds so grown up … And, you know, there’s presents to be given.”

“I’m in,” Xander grinned, and pulled her into the apartment.

~

Willow, Buffy, and Xander sprawled amongst the gifts she had brought them and their respective wraps and boxes.

“I love this apartment, Buff,” she said, playing idly with some bubble wrap.

“Isn’t it cool? I saw it, and just knew. Especially the big living area, I can work out there. And you know, there’s a laundry and bathroom below, so we won’t have people yelling up at us if I’m banging.”

“It’s great,” Willow sighed. “So what’s up on the Hellmouth? How are all our demons, reformed and otherwise?”

“Anya is good. She’s trying out this work thing, that’s why she’s not here. But she will love this dress. Hell, I love this dress! … uh, you know I mean for her, not just … you know what I mean.” Xander paled. "You do know what I mean?"

“Spike?”

“Spike is …” Buffy paused. “I have no idea where Spike is. With the usual summer lull he took off somewhere, whining as usual. Actually, Giles got a call and he’s due back sometime this week.”

“Politeness from Spike?” Xander said incredulously.

“He probably just didn’t want me to stake him,” Buffy shrugged.

“And Giles?” Willow asked, blinking as she felt her lack of sleep start to catch up with her.

“G-man’s fine,” Xander informed her. “Our beloved, tweed-clad mentor has taken to long early morning runs to keep Buffy’s speed up.”

“You know how we discussed the togetherness thing?” Buffy sighed. “Well, the new and improved Watcher mine sets the alarm for four thirty in the a.m. and expects me to join him. Do you have any, any idea? Just as well a Slayer doesn’t need much sleep.”

“Uhhh, speaking of,” Willow groaned, “my bed and I have a major appointment right now.”

“But Will!” Buffy protested. “Hot affair, remember? I want details!”

“Hard to forget it, Buff,” Willow grinned. “Tomorrow, okay?”

~

“So you can speak Italian now?”

“Pretty good, although my accent gets a few laughs sometimes. I had lots of practice over the summer.”

Anya switched to Italian with a smile. “I haven’t been to Italy for centuries.”

“It was beautiful. I was mostly in Venice … it was amazing.”

“And Buffy says you had sex with a dark and mysterious stranger, but you haven’t given her details yet?”

“Buffy talks too much.”

“As if we didn’t know that.”

Willow and Anya whirled to see Spike in the dark doorway. His face was tired, and he had a leather backpack slung across his shoulder. He grinned arrogantly at them, and then blinked.

“Hang on …” he said in English. “When did we start speaking in Italian? When did you learn Italian, pet?”

She smiled at surprising him, and continued to speak in Italian. “I spent the summer in Italy. I picked up the language. Where were you, anyway? You weren’t here to get my presents.”

“Italy?” he repeated softly, stubbornly sticking to English. “And, wait a minute, you brought me presents?”

Willow shrugged. “I brought everyone presents. So where were you?”

“Uh, Europe. Prague. England. You know.”

He was looking at her kind of funny, and she realized she still blocked the doorway. She scooted back, then plopped on the couch with Anya.

Spike followed them in, chucking his backpack to the floor. He stretched, various bones in his body audibly clicking back into place.

“You look like shit,” Anya told him bluntly.

“Cargo ships are not the way to travel, girlie. Let alone ones carrying animals which you have to bloody feed off. Gah, have you ever tasted horse’s blood?”

Anya gave a shout of laughter, and he gave her a withering look and turned back to Willow.

“So, where in Italy were you, pet? Rome? Florence?” He chuckled teasingly. “Pisa?”

“Venice, mainly,” she answered, distracted as Buffy and Giles entered the room, arguing over a book.

“That right?” he said faintly, sitting heavily onto Giles’s sofa.

Willow nodded. “Yup. Hey, if you come over to our apartment after we’re done here, I can give you your presents.”

“Sure, Red.”

Willow turned her attention to Giles as he made his life threatening announcement for the week.

~Part 4~

Willow paused as she walked through the door, and swung to frown at Spike. He quirked an eyebrow at her, lounging against the wall outside the door.

“You buy me presents, but you’re afraid to invite me in, pet?” he said huskily, and she felt a strange shiver at his words.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be very gracious to give you your presents in the corridor?” she asked, her tone carrying a hint of desperate pleading.

He shook his head, and moved from his casual slouch on the wall to a menacing prowl just beyond the barrier of the door.

“Let me in, _Rosso_.”

Her eyes widened, a small smile playing on the lips.

“I didn’t think anyone would call me that again. Oh, come in, Spike, you’re letting the cold air in.”

“It’s summer, sweets. And who was calling _my_ Red _that_ in your fancy-pants Italy?” He stalked into the room, glowering at her, and sprawled on the sofa.

“I’m not _your_ anything, Spike,” Willow retorted. “You know, maybe I shouldn’t have invited you in without asking Buffy if it was okay …”

“Stuff her. Besides, it’s traditional for me to have an invitation into the Slayer’s home, remember?” He changed his glower to a grin.

“Anyway, d’you wanna be my something?”

“Are you _ever_ serious?”

“Yes. But it frequently bores me. It’s my one failure, no bloody patience. Speaking of, where are my presents?”

Willow rolled her eyes, and grabbed the last few bags from the hallway that led to their bedrooms.

“Here,” she replied, throwing a bag onto his stomach. “And here, and here … and … here.”

“Where did you get this?”

She turned to him at the slight tug on her wrist and the hoarseness of his voice.

“Which one – oh. Uh, I had it made. In Venice.”

She looked at Spike questioningly. His pale fingers played with the coin on her bracelet, his eyes troubled.

“The coin is very old,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, uh, it says. I like how it’s worn, like someone rubbed it often. Um, anyway, I found it on the night of a festival in Venice. I kept it to, to remind me.”

“Of the city?” he asked, his voice low. Something in the depths of it sent that tingle through her again, like it played some chord in her she had not known existed. Weird.

“Of the night of the festival,” she answered shortly, not wanting to answer further. “Are you going to open your presents?”

He opened the largest one first, and she caught the pleased flare of his eyes before he tampered it down and acted casual.

“Leather pants. Kinky, pet.”

“Funnily enough, I saw them, and vampires just sprung to mind.”

“This leather is, well, it’s Italian, isn’t it? Grade A. Uh, thank you.”

Willow blinked in surprise.

“Oh, you’re just a big softie,” she giggled, poking him.

He pouted, and then stuck his tongue at her. She shrieked in laughter at the sight, collapsing onto the couch with him. He wriggled over, and as she laughed he leant against her and opened the next present.

“More clothes. Uh, are you trying to tell me something, luv?”

“Well,” she answered pragmatically, trying to stifle her giggles. “I was going to get you red, and then I thought, dammit, why not a different color? So, blue for your eyes.”

“What about when my eyes are yellow?”

Willow paused, then started to giggle again.

“Oh, just go shirtless.”

“Why, _pet_!”

He turned to her, grinning. Willow looked up into his face, shaking with her laughter. When she saw the intensity of his blue gaze,  she paused. Her shoulders gave one last tremor before she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, studying him.

“Let it go,” he whispered hoarsely, and she let her lip spring free. She found herself taking deep breaths, her eyes lost in his.

She closed her eyes as he moved in, his mouth gently taking possession of hers. Willow found herself trembling, unsure if what she felt was passion or fear. Something in her decided, and she lifted her body to his, her hand in his hair holding his lips to hers as her tongue wound around his. Spike’s hands shifted to her back, supporting her as she ravaged his mouth.

And in the next moment she fell back onto the sofa, her breath knocked out of her, as Spike scrambled to the other end. She struggled to sit up, but then as Buffy walked in the door her guilty eyes flew to Spike’s. He ripped his burning gaze away, and looked at the last two presents. As he opened the smaller one, she saw his hands tremble.

“Ehhh, Willow, you invited him in?” Buffy whined as she saw Spike.

Willow gave her a helpless half shrug, still struggling for breath. Spike’s chest was heaving as well, and she wondered at it, a small flare of arousal thrilling through her as she realized how she must have affected him.

“Not only did she invite me in, she brought me presents. I’m truly your bestest bud now, Slayer.”

Buffy frowned at Willow as she saw Spike slip a thick silver ring onto his left hand.

“Willow, you didn’t!”

“I, I didn’t what?” Willow asked defensively. “Oh, the ring. Well, you know. I brought everyone else one, I couldn’t skip Spike.”

“You can always skip Spike! We’re talking about the kind of demon that would take that ring as an invitation!”

Spike looked up, confused.

“I would?”

“It’s engraved,” Buffy snapped, fiddling with her trouser pocket. Willow frowned, knowing that it held a stake.

Spike tugged his ring off again, twirling it to read the message, then chuckling.

“I bloody could, pet. ‘Bite me’. But what’s the date?”

“They’re our Scooby rings,” Willow explained. “And the date is the first day I met Buffy. I guess it isn’t quite so appropriate for you, Spike, but then again it kind of is …”

“I love it, Red.” He grimaced. “Even if it does mean I’m a part of your little gang.”

“We’ll be sure to send you your free badge and pencil. Try to fall on it,” Buffy sniped.

Spike sneered at her, and then began to unwrap the final parcel. He chuckled again as a keyring slipped into his hands. Willow gave him a small grin.

“I couldn’t resist,” she shrugged. “Xander’s says ‘Demon on Board’.”

“‘Hell on Wheels’,” he read aloud. “And don’t bloody forget it.”

“I’m sure you won’t let us,” Buffy retorted, and sank into their single armchair, blowing her hair out of her eyes with a tired sigh.

“Damn right. Um, anyway. Red, I love everything. And. I better get back, I’ve got to pick up dinner and, and things.” He finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, and Willow drew a shaky breath at the intensity they held. “Thanks.”

She lifted her hand in a wave, and watched him move to her door and through it.

*Funny how my complicated life has reached a new high.*

~Part 5~

“Willow? Hello? Is there any particular reason you’re ignoring me tonight?”

Willow jumped, smiling guiltily at her best friend. “Uh … because I’m thinking about a big essay I have due?”

“Over the summer?” Buffy laughed.

Willow shrugged. “Sure. I Know What I Did This Summer. Haven’t you started yours?”

“Nice one. Seriously.” Buffy’s face changed into an awed expression. “Oh … you’re thinking about the _guy_.”

“I am not!” Willow protested. Because, for a moment, she wasn’t.

“What was his name?” Buffy squealed.

Willow felt the heat as her cheeks turn pink.

“Um … well, I don’t, actually I don’t know.”

“You had sex with an anonymous stranger?” Buffy breathed.

“Well, it was the festival, and everyone was wearing masks,” Willow answered defensively.

“Was he Italian?”

“Uh, he spoke Italian, but he said he was a little rusty. European, I think, I don’t know, maybe even British.” She tried to remember his voice, but found herself confusing it with Spike’s.

“Was he cute? Could you tell?”

Willow’s eyes glazed a little as she remembered his lean, muscular body, and the size of his penis.

“Oh yes. I mean … well. He looked quite handsome. Not overly tall, dark hair, blue eyes. Pale and romantic, yet strong and, and almost dangerous, too.”

“And did you have _fun_?” Buffy asked, her tone insinuating.

“Just … a little.” Willow grinned madly.

“Wicked Willow. Wow. And you were safe?”

Willow groaned. “Yes, Mother. We used a condom.”

“Good girl. Remember, if you get pregnant, I’m not getting up for the three a.m. feeding.”

“I promise not to forget,” Willow giggled. “You know, you’re actually worse that my mom.”

“Ha!” Buffy snorted, and then laughed along with her.

~

She was still having a little trouble adjusting her body clock, and when Willow slipped into bed, she found herself tossing and turning instead. Every night before this she had fallen asleep with the thought of her stranger in her mind, but tonight she was thinking of Spike.

She wanted desperately to discuss him with Buffy, but she had a feeling that that conversation wouldn’t really work. Buffy would just up and find him, wherever he was, and dust him without a second thought.

Yet despite knowing that her friends would be horrified, that she was contemplating a vampire, a vampire!, who had tried to kill her more than once, she still thought about him.

More specifically, she was thinking about kissing Spike.

*Kissing? Is that what you call it? Not launching yourself at him like some brazen hussy?*

He probably regrets it. It was just a, you know, a moment thing.

*You and Spike seem to have a lot of moments.*

We do not!

*You mean you didn’t notice? He kidnaps YOU, wants to _have_ YOU, tries to bite YOU, kisses YOU.*

Oh, I’m just the only one around who he doesn’t hate.

*Mm-hmm, sure baby. Did you see that bulge underneath those skintight jeans?*

Did I WHAT?!

*Don’t tell me you didn’t look.*

I most certainly did _not_ look.

*Yeah, right. And if you did, boy, did you ever miss out.*

We’re not having this conversation. I refuse.

*You just want to git-all-nekkid and start dreaming of him.*

I can’t hear you. You’re a figment of my imagination.

*Baby, I am your imagination. And right now I’m imagining those big hands making their way down to my - *

I. Can. Not. Hear. You.

*Yeah yeah, you’re just too busy imagining the same thing.*

~

Willow gave a shudder as she drew her hand to her naked breast. For weeks she had imagined the touch of a masked man, well, tonight the man had a face.

It was funny how she could see him so easily in her mind, although she was blatantly guilty of taking Spike’s head and putting it atop the stranger’s body. Well, she didn’t have a lot of experience with real, live … uh, okay, real live _or_ un-alive … male bodies.

In any case, the stranger’s lean, muscular body was probably pretty similar to Spike’s. Oz had been skinny, without the taut strength she could sense in Spike. And she could certainly associate the intimidating, wholly thrilling size of the man’s penis with Spike’s, well, _cocky_ demeanor.

She found herself contemplating him both blue _and_ yellow-eyed. One smiling and tender. The other … rougher, more raw, her fingertips tracing the ridges on his forehead as he possessed her.

She brushed her fingers over her nipple, then took it between her thumb and forefinger, rolling them over the swelling bud.

*If I thought _he_ was cool, I wonder how cold Spike will be. I certainly didn’t seem to find it a turn off with the other man.*

Willow reached to the small table beside her bed, where she had a glass of Coke still chilled from the refrigerator. Running her fingers down it, she was left with cold water beaded on her fingertips. She ran the wet, cold tips over her nipple, hissing at the absence of heat.

Suddenly it was all too easy to imagine her cold fingers were Spike’s tongue, lapping at her hard nipple. Her brushing strokes soon had her breathing heavy, her breasts and stomach slightly damp from the water.

She ran a single finger vigorously over the glass until it was icy from the condensation. When she touched the finger to her clitoris, she screamed out, barely muffling the cry with her hand when she remembered Buffy in the next room.

Willow wet her finger again, running the cold water over the lips of her vagina. The sensation was incredible, the heat of her liquid arousal and skin slowly tingling with the cold of her fingertip. Her clitoris and vagina throbbed, and she wet her finger again to rub at the sensitive nub.

Her breath was coming short, her body shaking at each touch of her own fingers.

She thought about him kneeling between her legs, parting her thighs and pressing his mouth to her vagina. She wet two fingers and ran them over herself as if they were his tongue, and felt the pulse in the bottom of her stomach as more liquid flooded against her fingers.

She ran her whole hand over the glass, taking the last of the condensation, and rubbed her clitoris before slowly sliding two fingers inside her vagina. She orgasmed the moment the chilled tips met her warm inner walls, the walls that clutched at her cold fingers and heated them with their touch.

Trembling and screaming into the pillow she hastily stuffed into her mouth, she shook even more as she moved her cold fingers inside herself. She thrust her hand deep inside her vagina, adding a third finger and imagining herself stretched to be filled with Spike’s penis. As she moved her fingers her thumb found her clitoris again, and brushing it, she imagined Spike’s shout of pleasure as he poured his sperm inside her.

Willow gasped and cried out again, her own shout of pleasure buried into her pillow.

*Spike.*

~Part 6~

Oh bloody hell. May Satan fry my balls and serve them up to the Poof on a diamond platter. Excuse me, everyone, your attention please, hello!

_I_ did Red. I fucked the witch and didn’t even know it. I shagged the bloody love of my bloody un-life and _neither_ of us knew it.

The best night of my life, the one time I felt hum, no, not human, but the one time I felt like _me_ since I got this implant, maybe even longer, and it was a faceless lie.

But now I know who she was … is.

After all I’ve done, all I’ve been, do I really deserve _that_? Is someone up there, down there, whatever, laughing their eternal ass off at me?

And, you know, this is _among other things_. Because I nearly had my ass dusted today, care of everyone’s favorite unfriend of the undead.

But she kissed me back! Scrub that, she fucked my mouth with every ounce of strength she possessed. She ravished me … and bloody hell I liked it.

And on her beautiful wrist she’s wearing the coin I thought I lost in Venice.

I left the city that night, after this wonderful young woman had left me, scurried away like the rat I thought I was. I couldn’t stand the thought of maybe seeing her, smelling her in the streets, and then losing her in a crowd or seeing her cringe when I tried to say that it had been me. And when I was back in Rome I couldn’t find the coin.

I’ve lived all over Europe, hunting and living the general wild life. I was in Spain at the turn of the century, the new millennium. That last one made me feel powerful and immortal and righteous, and I kept the coin as a reminder, as a symbol of my power. This year I was impotent and useless and afraid.

Yeah, I was fucking afraid. Maybe that’s why I felt so lost without it. It was kind of like that last thread I was clinging to, a last shred of that power.

She brought me presents. How’d you like that? Clothes that fit like a second skin – wouldn’t I like to know how she managed that? Apart from the keyring, the keyring that gives me back a little pride, everything here not only cost a small fortune, but also took time and thought to pick out.

I don’t think she loves me, though. Never even thought of it. I was just the Big Bad, and whenever she took me in under her wing, well, that’s just Willow.

But maybe she has thought about me, dreamed of me, sized up my ass and whatever else took her fancy. Because her kiss, the way she freed her passion and bound herself to me, that was more than just friends.

I mean, hell, we weren’t even that.

It’s hard to believe I didn’t know her. But when you’re high on wine and life, or low from the same, when you’re half a world away and everyone’s eyes are shadowed by masks, well, how do you know? Scent? Sound?

Venice smells of the canals, and the festival is hundreds upon hundreds of people thronging the walks with their sweat and wine and food and sex. The air is thick with it.

And sound?

Well, I heard the music. Screaming and shouting and laughing. And there was this beauty with a husky voice. Her hair all dark and that. She was nothing like Willow, and I was nothing like me.

Livin’ in Italy for year upon year, I don’t speak all Italian with the accent. Shit, I struggle enough to keep it up in English. And neither of us spoke a word of English that night.

I’d dyed my hair dark, too. Wanting to blend in with a crowd, shake the accursed dust of flamboyance from my boots and just wander as no-one. I wasn’t wearin’ these clothes she’s all but announced she’s sick of.

You’d think she’d blink at the cold touch, I don’t know what went through her head. Or wrinkle her cute nose in suspicion of a man who talked about veins and blood in the same sentence as canals. But she never did.

And what exactly does she think she’s doing shagging strangers in Italy, any bloody way? Sensible girl even insists on a _fucking_ rubber. You think vampires have done it all? Well, I thought I’d done it all. And then I’m faced with this scrap of plastic in a little foil wrapper. _Weird_.

She’s absolutely beautiful when she comes. I have these scattered images that keep me awake, that draw me in no matter where I am. Long pale limbs, rose pink nipples, dark red curls. Her hot cunt. Her mouth.

It undid me today.

I’m goin’ to tell her. What does it matter, when she’ll only undo me again?

~

Spike sat tensely on the pallet he called a bed, sipping the last of his cool dinner. He found he liked watching the glint of the dull silver band on his left hand as he drank, seeing it catch the flame of the single candle he burned to keep a little light in the place. It was dawn outside, but of course that was well blocked off.

He drained the last of the pig’s blood and stretched naked above the blankets. Inside the stone crypt was probably one of the coolest places to spend Sunnydale’s sweltering days or nights, but it was still vaguely warm.

One hand behind his head, he shifted the other to his hard cock.

Her long legs, criss-crossed with silver. Her pale skin bared as she untied her sandals.

Her nipples swelling against his hands.

Her hot mouth and tongue sliding over his cock.

Spike licked his fingers and drew their slickness over his cock, his lips parting as he found silent pleasure.

Her small fingers caressing his balls.

He ran his own finger over the heavy sac, imagining the warmth of her touch.

Her taste filling his mouth.

Her smile.

Her scream.

The unholy hot tightness of her cunt, drawing every drop of his load.

Spike’s balls tightened and he growled deep in his throat, his hand pumping his cock furiously.

“Willow,” he panted, his dead body mimicking breathlessness. “Willow!”

His cock jerked as he came, the great spurts of cold seed spilling onto his stomach and hand. As he shut his exhausted eyes, he drew his hand to his mouth and lapped at his release.

*Willow.*

~Part 7~

The lazy knock on the door came just after dusk.  Buffy had left for early patrol a few minutes earlier after they had washed their dishes.  She liked the homeliness of it.  But oh, dear, the door.  Willow had the funniest feeling she knew who it was.
  

She brushed her hands down the long silk skirt she wore nervously.  It was Italian, hand-painted and delicate.  With it she wore an olive green top with half-sleeves and a little of her stomach showing if she raised her arms.  At least she looked nice … she hoped.
  

The knock came again, more hesitantly, and she jumped in startlement, running for the door.
  

“Yes!” she said hurriedly as she opened it.
  

Spike quirked his eyebrow.
  

“But I haven’t asked yet,” he purred.
  

He was wearing the shirt and pants she had brought him.  The blue silk shirt made his eyes even more intense, and his pale skin seemed to glow.  She found herself momentarily fixated on the adorable baby mole he had on his right cheek.  And then the leather pants … oh my goodness.
  

She mentally chided herself for drooling, and then smiled shyly at him.  “Come in.”
  

He followed her into the apartment.  When she turned again he was admiring her clothes, and she gave him a quick twirl.
  

“You like?”
  

He grinned.  “I more than like.  You look gorgeous, pet.”
  

He gave her his own twirl, slower and far more sensual.
  

“_You_ like?”
  

“You look great,” she beamed, her voice soft.  “So, um … can I offer you a cup of blood?”
  

He shot her a surprised look.  “You don’t!”
  

She smirked.  “I most certainly do.  We have sodas for Xander, tea for Giles, and blood for you.”
  

“You’re amazin’, luv,” he said, shaking his head in wonder.  “Um, I’m right, though.”
  

Willow gestured to the couch, and turned to him as he sat beside her.
  

He pressed his lips together as he faced her, and she felt regret wash through her as her shoulders slumped.
  

“We need to talk, pet.”
  

~
  

Willow’s mouth trembled momentarily, and then she firmed her heart.
  

“It was just an in the moment thing.  That’s okay.  I understand,” she said coldly.
  

He blinked.  “What?  You knew?”
  

“I thought it was kind of obvious.  You didn’t want to tell me.  Well, I can understand.  You just kissed me because … well, I don’t know why you kissed me, but it didn’t mean anything.  Got you.”  Despite her answer, she couldn’t keep her voice from sounding hurt.
  

His confused expression suddenly displayed understanding.  “That’s not what I’m here to talk about, luv.  But on topic … you think that kiss didn’t mean anything?  I guess I’m out of practice then, ’cause what _I_ felt was about the best kiss I’ve ever had, dead or alive.”
  

“_Really_?” she asked in delight.  Then comprehension dawned, that he had enjoyed … wanted … craved it.  “Oh!”
  

“Really.”  His eyes took her in again, and she wondered what he was so unsure about.  His brash arrogance was completely gone, and while she like this hesitant side of him, she also missed the Spike she knew so well.
  

“But?” she prompted him.
  

He considered.  “Well, maybe not but, not just yet.  First off … d’you remember when I kidnapped you?  You do, right?”
  

She bit her lip to keep from laughing.  “Um, I think so.  Bottle in face, I haven’t _had_ a woman, I’m so miserable … drunk raving lunatic … have I got it right?”
  

He scowled.  “Yeah, that’s it.  Anyway.  From right about then, the way you smelled, the way you comforted me, well I’ve sort of, um, hadabitofathingforyou.”
  

“What?” she asked, unable to decipher his quick words.
  

He groaned, flinging himself back into the couch and drawing her eyes to the V of pale chest his shirt revealed.  When he spoke again, he kept his eyes closed.
  

“I … love … you.”
  

It took a moment for her to switch her mindset and translate the Italian, but as she realized what he had said she gasped.
  

“You _love_ me?” she breathed.
  

He opened one eye to peer at her.
  

“Yes?”
  

“Oh, Spike,” she said hesitantly, shocked.
  

He shut the eye again.  “There’s more.”
  

“More?” she repeated warily.
  

He opened both eyes and sat up again, nodding.
  

“I was in Italy over the summer.”
  

She blinked.  “You didn’t say.”
  

“In Venice.”
  

Her brows moved together as she frowned.
  

“Um,” he began quietly.  “Um, drinking cheap wine by a canal until I met and made love to a girl in silver sandals.”
  

Willow’s breath hissed in.
  

“You did _not_.”
  

“I so did, pet.  I had no idea who she, who you were, but in the, in the morning when I woke alone, I knew I could _not_ stay in Venice knowing you were out there somewhere.  I ran off to Rome, around Europe and then came home.  That … that bracelet you are wearing, you found the coin either at or near my place, didn’t you?  It’s Spanish, from 1900.  It’s my coin.  You can ask the poof, if you want, he can likely tell you I was in Spain then.  He knew that.  Willow, it was me.”
  

Willow slowly shook her head.  “I can’t believe that,” she whispered.
  

Spike’s eyes stared calmly into her own as he spoke softly.
  

“I had a church candle on the desk.  The cover on the bed was dark red.  There are … twenty-eight grooves milled into the edge of that coin.”
  

She drew her hand to her wrist, taking the coin and moving her nail across the milled edge, her eyes closed.
  

*One.  Two.  Three … Twenty, twenty-eight.  Oh my Goddess.*
  

Her eyes fluttered opening, staring into Spike’s as they focused.  His lips were moving, and she watched them silently.
  

*I love you.*
  

“Why do you love me?”
  

His eyebrows flew up, and he considered a moment, then grinned.
  

“Because you’re you.”
  

Her mouth trembled slightly, and she moved closer to him, her face serious.
  

“Are you sure?”
 
 

Spike sighed, a very small sound with no breath to emphasize it.  “Yes.  Poofy and sappy though it may be, every time I see you I think I’m home.”
  

Willow’s breath caught, startled at the intimacy of his words.
  

Spike watched her face, then bit his lip.  “And, uh, you’re great in bed.”
  

Willow tried to stop her smile, but failed.  She wriggled into his lap, lifting her face to his.
  

“Are you going to make me a vampire?”
  

He regarded her seriously.  “Eventually.”
  

She winced, but nodded.
  

“Will you ask me first?” she asked, very low.
  

“Always.  Uh, unless you’re unconscious and about to expire, in which case you can, uh, hit me or something, once you wake up.”
  

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” she told him seriously, and he nodded before laying a gentle kiss on her lips.
  

“Are you sure?” he murmured against her mouth as he moved his kiss to her jawline, her lips cool – unnaturally cool after all – on her skin.
  

“I don’t know if I love you,” she answered honestly.  “But I like you, even if you’re being a pain, and I, I want you.”
  

“That’ll do,” he chuckled, sliding his lips back to hers.
  

“Ah … Willow?”
  

Willow broke away from Spike’s mouth and turned to her best friend.
  

“Um … yeah?”
 

~Part 8~

“Willow, why … _Spike_.  Why the _hell_ are you kissing Willow?”  Buffy paled.  “The implant!  Willow, get away from him!”
  

Willow failed entirely to move, going in fact as far as to entwine her hand with Spike’s.  Feeling his hands brought back shivers of delightful memory.
  

“Buffy … you know, um, the guy in Italy?”
  

Buffy gave a half-nod, her face still confused.
  

“Th – he – it was Spike,” Willow blurted, cringing in anticipation of Buffy’s forthcoming over-reaction.
  

“Oh.”  Buffy closed her eyes briefly, a range of expressions flitting across her face.  Finally, she rubbed her forehead, settling on a pained expression.
  

“Spike, are you going to willfully hurt Willow?  Change her against her will?  Drive her insane?  Or,” she opened her eyes and glared fiercely at him, “_break her heart_?”
  

“I’d stake myself first,” Spike answered intensely, glaring right back.
  

“Then ...”  Buffy paused, and shuddered.  “Nyuegh!  Just … stay out of my be-droom!  And, don’t gross me out too much.  And you, you Mr secretly swanning about Italy _with my hair dyed_, you’ve seen me pissed off.  Things don’t go so easy when I’m pissed off.”
  

“With you,” Spike agreed hastily.
  

Buffy turned to Willow, her face regretful.
  

“You’re sure, Wills?” she begged.
  

Willow gave Buffy a huge smile, her fingers curling further against Spike’s.
  

“I’m sure, Buffy.”
  

Buffy nodded, a small, tight smile on her face.  “Then I guess you probably don’t want to join me on patrol this evening.”
  

Willow looked at her in surprise.  “You came back to ask me that?”
  

“Sure did.  This year, we’re a team, Willow.  All,” Buffy glanced at Spike.  “All of us,” she concluded firmly.
  

Willow nodded.  “I’m glad.”
  

Buffy gave her a small wave, and pulled the door closed after her.  Spike grin-ned down at Willow and began to drop his mouth to hers again.  They both turned as Buffy came back inside.
  

“Remember,” she warned, “not in my bedroom!”
  

~
  

“Well pet, now that I’ve been given the Slayer Seal of Approval … are we gonna shag in her room?”
  

Willow giggled, shifting her hands around his neck.  “Couldn’t we at least use my room first?”
  

“And what’s wrong with the _couch_?” he protested, running his fingers eagerly across her thighs.
  

“We’d have to leave it eventually?” she suggested.
  

Spike’s face reflected his consideration, and then his eyes gleamed suddenly.
  

“You know, if you’ve got blood in your fridge, we could basically stay in your room for quite…”  He broke off and ran his tongue over her neck.  “… Some.”  He then scraped his teeth lightly over the same spot, making her shiver.  “ … Ti-me.”
  

Willow moaned when his cool lips soothed the newly sensitized skin.
  

“Let’s,” she whispered huskily, and he tightened his arms about her, lifting her as he stood.
  

Spike paused in the hallway, letting her lips free from his mouth as he looked between the two closed doors.
  

“Left,” Willow giggled, hungrily lifting her head to claim his mouth again.  His tongue matched hers, kissing her deeply before he moved towards her door, fum-bling for the doorknob.
  

Spike reached to flick on the light as they entered the room, kicking the door firmly closed behind him.  As they broke apart again, she watched him look around her room, taking in the details.  He frowned at her bed.
  

“Remind me to buy you a bigger bed.  I think my feet will hang off the end of that.”
  

“Only,” Willow smiled, “when your head is halfway down the bed.”
  

“Is that an observation or an invitation?” Spike asked with interest, setting her down on the covers, and running his hand over her body to rest just below her stomach.
  

“Both?” Willow squeaked, her lips parting and eyes closing briefly as he moved his hand lower and cupped her vagina through her skirt.
  

“Awesome,” the vampire grinned.  He made sure her curtains were fixed tightly shut, and then his hands moved to his top shirt button and slowly slipped it free.
  

Willow caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched him, his eyes wat-ching her right back.  He leaned forward and brushed his thumb over her lip, setting it free.
  

“I warned you about that, pet,” he told her intently.  “If anyone’s biting that lip, it’ll be me.”
  

Willow shuddered at the force in his voice … and the possibilities.  She gave him a small smile, suddenly feeling little-girlish.
  

His fingers moved back to his silk shirt, the color making his eyes intense.  In the fuller light of her room, they were so beautifully blue.  Every breath Wil-low took grew more shallow as his pale chest was revealed, framed by the blue silk.
  

Spike put his left boot up on her bed and slowly unlaced it, his stance drawing her eyes to the leather clad bulge in his pants.  Willow licked her lips, not really noticing as Spike drew the lace right out and tossed it onto her bed.  He repeated the action with his right boot, and then shrugged off his shirt as he stalked closer to her.
  

*Spike … in leather pants … and nothing else.  Whoo boy.*
  

He sat on the bed and drew Willow to him, kissing her deeply as he cradled her head.  His hands moved to her waist, sliding under her top to stroke her sto-mach.
  

“You’re so warm,” he said in a low voice, his thumb caressing her navel tender-ly.
  

“I thought that you were normal, that it had been Oz who was so hot,” Willow answered, her hands running down his back.  “I’m glad I was wrong.”
  

Spike pulled away and smiled, lifting her top and then sliding it up and over her head.  Then he unzipped her skirt and slid it off, leaning back to admire her in her underwear.
  

“Black satin … nice, luv,” he teased, running his hands over her firmly, touching the satin and skin, but not hesitating long enough to satisfy her gro-wing arousal.
  

“I thought of you when I put it on,” Willow told him, and then smirked.  “I’m thinking of you now, too … so take it off.”
  

“Impatient wench,” Spike glowered, but his mouth twitched as he obeyed.  When her snowy skin was bared, he ran his hands back over her, still not waiting long enough to fulfill her desire, only increasing the hunger for his touch.
  

Spike leaned back to the end of the bed, and then suddenly he was crouched above her, his knees on either side of her waist.  Willow whimpered at the feel of his hard penis beneath the leather, her arm limply moving as he guided it behind her head.
  

She blinked as she felt a binding wrap around her wrist, and all at once she realized her right hand, her strong hand, was bound to her headboard.  She loo-ked at Spike in panicked surprise, nervous.
  

He laid a tender, comforting kiss against her mouth, his finger outlining her nipple, and she relaxed slightly.  Spike lifted her left arm behind her, and bound it to the opposite side of the headboard.  When his mouth left hers, she twisted her head and looked at her right hand.
  

“Your _bootlaces_?” she questioned him, the incongruity of it easing her fears.
  

He shrugged, and winked at her.  “Inspiration, pet.  Now, any requests, or should I just get my feet hangin’ over the end of the bed?”
  

She pretended to think about it, then gave in.  “Just … could you please take your pants off?”
  

“Oh, I think I could do that.”
  

~Part 9~

Spike got off the bed, standing beside her as he slowly stripped off the tight leather pants.  Willow’s eyes ran over him, taking in again his pale, hard body.  His penis was fully erect and straining, and she felt the damp heat surge in her vagina.
  

“Spike,” she begged, her voice a little harsh.  “Touch me, take me, please.”
  

He smirked at her, kneeling on the bed and then crouching over her again, his hands balancing his weight above her.
  

“Please,” Willow repeated, her tone begging.
  

Spike looked her over slowly before laying a cool hand against her ankle.  He ran his fingers gradually over her calf, then up her thigh, his nails brushing over the backs of her legs and causing her to buck against him.  When his hand drew up against her vagina, his thumb caressed her clitoris.  Willow gave a deep moan, arching to increase the area or penetration of his touch.  Spike sank two of his fingers quickly into her wet vagina, and she gave a low, throaty cry that turned panicked when he took his hand away.
  

Spike licked his slick fingers of her taste, then placed that hand back on the bed and his other on her ankle.  Willow watched, aching, as he repeated his ac-tions.  Her breathing quickened as his fingers lingered on her thigh, and then caressed the wet lips of her vagina.
  

Again, his thumb played over her clitoris, but his fingers continued to tease instead of slip inside her.  As she waited, she strained at the bonds which cap-tured her hands, wanting to grab his buttocks and force him to sink within her.
  

He leant forward and captured her nipple into his mouth, his cool, wet tongue sliding around the peak.  Willow’s thighs fell open to his touch as his tongue played with her nipple, and she gasped as he continued to merely tease her.
  

Spike sucked her hard nipple until Willow felt she would scream with wanting him.  Her wrists were sore and probably chafed from her straining, but she knew her own impatience was to blame.  Her breathing was heavy as he finally looked up from her breast, and she watched him hopefully.
  

He licked up the center of her chest and then took her mouth, kissing her force-fully.
  

*I’m melting* Willow thought briefly, then made a disappointed sound as Spike released her mouth.

Willow’s eyes flared in trepidation as Spike’s face shifted to ‘grr’ mode.
  

He grinned at her, and she noticed how much deeper the dimple in his right cheek was when his face was changed.  Spike leant back to her mouth, but this time he licked her lips playfully, sucking on the bottom one and teasing it with his fangs.
  

When he drew his head away, Willow was completely unsure of what would happen next.  It crossed her mind that perhaps she should be scared, but the way he had played with her, and her intense arousal, trusted him and in fact begged for more.  She waited, her wrists tense in their bonds.
  

He bent his head to her neglected breast and delicately took her nipple between his teeth.  As the sharp tips of his fangs trailed over her skin, he finally sank his fingers back into her vagina, moving deeply inside her slick passage.
  

Willow bucked and let out a keening cry as her walls clenched about his fingers.  She wanted nothing more than to grab Spike’s head and clasp it to her breast, but instead she twisted her hands and held on to her headboard, shaking and moa-ning.  Spike’s fingers pumped into her regularly as she came, his tongue swir-ling over the nipple he had harshly teased moments ago.
  

She was trembling as her head fell back against the headboard, her vagina drip-ping as Spike pulled his fingers from her and again cleaned them of her juices.  When he was done he kept his eyes on her face as he licked his lips.  Watching the demon taste her was either deeply erotic or deeply disturbing, she wasn’t sure which.
  

He ran his fingers over her breasts, each nipple swollen from his ministrations.  As he caressed her, she felt the longing rise again, not beginning but conti-nuing.
  

Spike drew his hand to his penis and held it steadily to Willow’s vagina, rub-bing the tip over her moist lips.  He pushed the head a little way inside her ready passage, and paused, his knuckle reaching up to sweep over her clitoris.
  

Willow groaned, her hips once more grinding against him.  Her movement sunk the tip of his penis a little further into her, and her vagina gripped him hungrily.  Spike chuckled and surged halfway inside her with a controlled thrust.  He paused again, his eyes on hers and his expression cocky.
  

Willow swallowed to wet her mouth and throat.  “Spike,” she croaked.  “Please, Spike.”
  

Spike moved his hand to her clitoris, teasing it until she was trembling, his hard penis still only partly inside her.
  

“Please what?” he asked in a bored tone, his finger circling her clitoris in a rhythm that made Willow’s body shake hard, her hands once again straining against his bootlaces.
  

Willow blushed.  “Please make love to me?”
  

Spike withdrew from her instead, also removing his fingers from her clitoris.  His hand went to her nipple, pinching her quickly.  She flinched at the momenta-ry pain, then moaned as he cupped her breast and licked the reddened tip, his long tongue running over and circling it.
  

“Funny, I thought I already did that,” Spike said lazily.
  

Willow watched him, her mouth parted in confusion.
  

“Please _what_?” Spike repeated, less casually.
  

“Please … fuck … me?” Willow tried.
  

Spike’s head rose, and he grinned at her.  “Okay.”
  

Willow screamed in pleasure as he sunk back within her.  She lifted her legs and locked them behind his back as he plunged his long, thick penis into her vagina hurriedly, each thrust sinking deeper inside.  He took her with no regard for softness or her pleasure, but she was so ready for him that there was nothing _but_ pleasure.
  

Spike increased his pace as Willow felt herself begin to shake again.  Her head arched back as her hips moved forward to take every inch of his penis inside her.  His lips caught hers again, his fangs nibbling on her lower lip almost to the point of pain.  As she moaned against his mouth, he drew away and suckled her nipple, his mouth drawing her inside him as her vagina gripped and drew him inside her.
  

“Spike!” Willow cried, her entire body trying to arch into him as she orgasmed.  He grunted and surged within her, and his fangs bit into her breast.
  

Willow cried out again, her whole body convulsing as she felt him drink from her. He thrust once more into her vagina, then collapsed heavily against her, his cold seed spurting into her.  Vaguely she noticed how different it felt, and then she worriedly and wearily focused on his mouth.
  

He stopped drinking as she watched, lapping at the blood slowly welling up from the two small holes.
  

“Spike?” she asked shakily.
  

He lifted his head, his features smoothing back as he moved.  He moved off her a little to  crouch over her for the third time that evening, his face close to hers.
  

“I’m not human,” he said, his voice tense.
  

Willow blinked, then slowly nodded.  “I know.”
  

Exhaustion seemed to wash through him, and he rolled off her, his arms embracing her. Spike’s eyes fell slowly shut as his hand stroked her stomach, and he smi-led.
  

“But I love you,” he reminded as he touched her.
  

“I know,” she repeated, her voice softer.
  

Spike reached above Willow’s head and fumbled the laces free, his eyes still closed and his face blissful.  She gave a moan at the tingling mix of pleasure and pain as her arms slid down, and he soothed her wrists with his thumbs as he laid his cool cheek on her breast.
  

She moved her right hand away from his touch as the numbness faded, and entwined her fingers in his hair.  Her eyelids fluttered closed, relaxation and exhausti-on urging sleep.  As her breathing became more even, she felt his head move slowly against her breast, and his voice question sleepily.
  

“Can we do it the slayer’s room now?”
  

END
 
back 

I call you up whenever things go wrong

You're always there you are my shoulder to cry on

I can't believe it took me quite so long

To take the forbidden step

Is this something that I might regret
 
 

Come on come on

Nothing ventured nothing gained

You are the one

The lonely heart that can't be tamed

Come on come on

I'm hoping that you feel the same

This is something that I can't forget
 
 

I thought that we would just be friends

Things will never be the same again

It's just the beginning it's not the end

Things will never be the same again

It's not a secret anymore

Now we've opened up the door

Starting tonight and from now on

We'll never, never be the same again

Never be the same again
 
 

Now I know that we were close before

I'm glad I realized I need you so much more

And that I don't care what everyone will say

It's about you and me and we'll never be the same again
 
 

I thought that we would just be friends

Things will never be the same again

It's just the beginning it's not the end

Things will never be the same again

It's not a secret anymore

Now we've opened up the door

Starting tonight and from now on

We'll never, never be the same again

Never be the same again
 
 

Night and day, like beach sand to red clay

The US to UK, NYC to LA

>From sidewalks to highways, see it'll never be the same

What I'm sayin', my mindframe never changed

'Til you came and rearranged

But sometimes it seems completely forbidden

To discover those feelings that we kept so well hidden

When there's no competition, and you render my condition

Though improbable it's not impossible

For a love that can be unstoppable to work

There are fine lines between fate and destiny

Do you believe in the things that were just meant to be

When you tell me the stories of your quest for me

Picturesque is the picture you paint effortlessly

And as our energies mix and begin to multiply

Everyday situations they start to simplify

So things will never be the same between you and I

We intertwine our life forces and now we're unified
 
 

I thought that we would just be friends

Things will never be the same again

It's just the beginning it's not the end

Things will never be the same again

It's not a secret anymore

Now we've opened up the door

Starting tonight and from now on

We'll never, never be the same again

Never be the same again
 
 

Come on come on

Things will never be the same again

You are the one

Never be the same again

It's not a secret anymore

We'll never be the same again

It's not a secret anymore

Never be the same again

Never be the same again