Rating: NC-17
Summary: *Spoilers for AtS S5* Angel has asked Willow to come to Wolfram & Hart to help him with a little problem, namely Spike.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss and Co. I'm just borrowing.I swear I'll give them back. *weg*
Distribution: If you have it, take it. If not, ask and you shall receive.
Feedback: Claudia_6913@hotmail.com
A/N: This was written for the 'Choose Your Author' Ficathon. Thank you whoever challenged me. It's a blast! This is the first part in Feeling the Cold Series
Challenge:
Pairing: Willow/Spike (throw in some Angel if you want, I won't complain)
Things you want: ghost!Spike, mention of Wesley/Gunn
Things you don't want: any mention of Spuffy
Please forgive me, but I couldn't NOT mention Spuffy. This fic called for it. As much as I dislike the pairing myself, it needed addressing, but I tried to keep it out as much as possible.
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Willow couldn't believe how big the place was. It was just huge on a massive scale and she felt dwarfed standing alone in the middle of the lobby. Angel had certainly done well for himself. She took the time to look around. Demons, people, and what she could only describe as other things busily walked around. They looked permanently attached to their cell phones or briefcases. Willow was now curious as to what it was Angel needed with her if he had the full support of an organization like Wolfram and Hart.
Deciding to find out, Willow walked up to the receptionist's desk and was surprised to find a very alive, well undead, Harmony sitting there. She was filing her nails and letting the obviously busy phone lines ring. Willow cleared her throat to get Harmony's attention.
"Can I help you?" Harmony asked without looking up.
"I'm here to see Angel," Willow said. Harmony didn't even look up as she pointed to double doors at the end of the hall. Uttering a thank you, Willow walked to the doors and knocked.
"What?" the haggard voice of Angel called. Willow smiled faintly. It had been so long since she'd heard that voice. Willow had missed it more then she'd thought she would. Just the thought of Angel had brought back so many memories, all of which she had thought about on the plane ride to L.A.
Before she came to Wolfram and Hart per Angel's hasty request, Willow and Buffy had gotten into a huge argument. Willow had called Buffy in Rome and told her about the letter that had somehow found its way to her. She'd told Buffy that Angel was requesting her help and wondered if Buffy knew anything about it. Well, needless to say, Buffy was not pleased. They'd had quite a row about Angel working for the evil law firm. Buffy was convinced without a doubt that Angel had turned to the side of evil. Willow just couldn't believe that Angel would knowingly do something like that and she was determined to prove it. If not to Buffy, then at least to herself.
Walking into the office, Willow's breath caught in her throat. She watched as light reflected from other buildings bathed Angel in a bright glow. She had never seen Angel bathed in anything but the false lights of buildings, and to see him drenched in the natural light of the sun was just.breath taking. What was most amazing was the fact that he didn't burst into flames.
"Angel?" Willow asked quietly, uncertain anymore of just what to say. She felt the need to inform him that he was standing in the light, but she knew he knew that and didn't want to sound ignorant, or demeaning.
Angel looked up from the massive pile of paperwork on his desk and smiled broadly at the sight of Willow. She had grown even more beautiful since the last time he'd seen her, about a year ago. Such a short time ago, but it seemed like forever. He wasn't sure what her reaction to his request for her help would be and he was glad she had decided to come. He just couldn't take it anymore and prayed she could fix his problem.
"Willow," Angel said getting up from his desk and walking over to embrace her. He watched her look at the light from the window then back to him. "Special glass, but God it's good to see you." Letting her go, he stepped back a respectful distance.
"You too. Looks like you've done well for yourself," Willow said motioning to the office.
"Yeah," Angel said. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments, neither of them knowing what to say. "So, get here ok?"
"Yes, thank you," Willow said. "But, you were vague in your letter. What exactly do you need help with when you have.all of this?" She motioned to include all of Wolfram and Hart in her meaning.
"Oh, well.why don't you sit down," Angel said, motioning to the couch in the corner of his office.
Willow looked at him skeptically, but took a seat. She learned from living on the Hellmouth that when people asked you to sit, it was never good news. Angel stayed standing and actually began to pace, which made Willow worry even more.
"I-" Angel began to say, but was cut off by the slamming of a door and loud voices in the hall by his office. They listened as three people argued.
"Must you do that every time?" a British voice asked. Willow thought that he sounded a lot like Giles and she looked to Angel questioningly.
"Wesley," Angel said, by way of answering her. Willow raised her eyebrows in surprise. It had been a year or so since she last saw Wesley and she was surprised to find him still working with Angel. Willow once again questioned Buffy's reaction to Angel taking over Wolfram and Hart if Wesley, an ex-watcher, would be so willing a participant.
"Look man, I know you can't knock, but you've got to stop popping up everywhere. We were.in the middle of something," a man's voice said. Again, Willow looked to Angel for answers.
"Gunn," was all Angel said, and that didn't explain anything to her. Instead of asking for more details, Willow continued listening in on the strange conversation, mostly because Angel was.
"'S not my fault I can't knock, wanker. If the Watcher over there would get up off his nancy boy ass, and stay out of yours, I could be a real boy again and there would be no 'popping' anywhere. But, instead of finding my cure, you two are bloody snogging in the office all day long. It's a wonder anything gets bloody done 'round here," the unmistakable British voice said.
Willow turned wide surprised eyes to Angel.
"Spike, that's.," Angel said, but trailed off when Willow jumped up from the couch and ran to the doors, throwing them open.
Willow couldn't believe her eyes. It was Spike, there, alive in the middle of Wolfram and Hart, causing his usual troubles. The last she'd seen of him was when they'd gone to the school to close the Hellmouth. She could still picture him running into the school under a blanket. Her eyes watered and her hand came up to her lips, trying to hold back a sob.
Turning to the open doors to Angel's office Spike gaped at the girl standing there. "Red," he said softly.
She nodded, tears falling freely now. Walking up to him slowly, Willow went to hug him, but her hands went right through the space where his body appeared to be. She gasped, not knowing that she wouldn't be able to touch him. Willow looked first at Spike, who wore a sad, melancholy expression, and then to Angel, who lowered his eyes.
"What's going on?" Willow asked the four men around her.
Spike looked at Willow, and shrugged, then looked to Angel. He looked apologetically at Willow while Gunn, the only one she didn't really know of the group, nudged Wesley to answer her.
"Well, that's a bit of a mystery I'm afraid," Wesley said, putting a hand on Willow's shoulder. "Why don't we go and speak in Angel's office."
The five of them walked into the brightly-lit office; Wesley guided Willow to the couch and sat in the chair across from her. Angel went to go stand at the window, lost in his thoughts, while Gunn stood behind Wesley, a hand on the chair. Spike, unsure of where to go, stood off to the side and squatted, not taking a seat, and watched Willow.
"What happened?" Willow asked turning serious. Wesley was apparently the one they had designated as the spokesperson, so she gave him her attention.
"Well, it seems that somehow the amulet Spike had used to close the Hellmouth in Sunnydale made its way back here. We received a package, and when we opened it.well, Spike kind of.," Wesley said trailing off. He wasn't sure how to explain it.
"Did a reverse dusting," Spike supplied.
"Yes, thank you," Wesley said nodding to Spike. He continued with his story telling of how they found out that Spike was a ghost and how no one, including Fred in their Science Department, could figure out why or how that was. Neither could they find a way to make him corporeal again. He also explained about Matthias Pavayne and his attempts to toss Spike into hell in his stead.
"And this is why you asked me to come, to see if I could help Spike?" Willow asked looking up at Angel. He nodded without looking away from the window. "And I'm supposed to do this how?" Willow wasn't sure if she could help, though she desperately wanted to. Spike, after all, had saved them all by giving up his life, and if she could repay him in this small way, she would try her hardest.
"We'll be here to help you," Wesley said. "I'm afraid I have the resources, but not the intimate knowledge of magick. We also have been looking into the amulet to find out what magicks were used on that, but again, we've come up short."
"So why not just get one of the Mage's I'm sure you have, to look at it," Willow asked.
"Can't trust them," Angel said, finally turning away from the window to look at Willow.
"If she doesn't want to do it, then fine," Spike said hotly, standing up and walking through the doors to Angel's office.
"No, Spike!" Willow called chasing after him. That wasn't what she meant. She did want to help Spike. Finally, she caught up to him in the hall and walked along side of him.
"Spike, I do want to help you," she said. "I just wanted to know why they called me. After all, you saved our lives. You were important to us, to me, and when you died, well.I had hoped there was some mistake. I'd even gone back to Sunnydale to see if I could find the amulet, or something, anything. I." Willow said trailing off. They had stopped walking and stood looking at each other in the middle of the hallway, forcing others to walk around them.
"Red," Spike said, raising his arm to trace the air around her hair and face. He wanted to touch her, feel her. Just the barest hint of her heat made its way to him through the thick cold that always seemed to be surrounding him. While he'd picked up the ability to affect things, there were times when his concentration was lacking and he couldn't quite get it right. He didn't want to scare Willow by sending his hand accidentally through her, so he stayed hovering next to her.
Willow closed her eyes and wanted to lean into his hand, to feel his touch, to know that he was there and not just some figment of her imagination. Then, she felt it, the cold rush that went through her skin and down her spine. She gasped; opening her eyes to see Spike's shut in concentration. Willow raised her hand, moved to touch Spike's face, and was amazed when she came in contact with his skin, cold as it was. When Spike opened his eyes in wonder at her touch, the illusion vanished and her hand fell through him.
"I'll help you," Willow whispered. Spike just nodded and walked off. Sighing, Willow turned around to go back to the office, but found everyone looking at her confused. Seeking out Angel, Willow nodded to him then said, "Do I have a place to stay?"
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Willow looked around the guestroom in Angel's penthouse apartment with amazement. It was huge and lavishly furnished with a king size bed, its own bathroom with a whirlpool tub, and a wet bar. She was unsure if staying at Wolfram and Hart would be a good idea, but Angel assured her that his apartment was safe and he was just across the hall should she need anything. As soon as he left her in the room, she took off exploring. It wasn't often that she had such luxuries. She had traveled for a while searching for any Slayer's she had activated with that last spell in Sunnydale. She'd stopped practicing magick after that. Now, she had stopped searching out Slayer's as well. It had just become too much for her, the constant fighting for her life, so she had just recently decided to try to live a normal life and was happily enrolled at Oxford in England.
Walking into the bathroom, Willow saw the large whirlpool tub and gasped in delight. It seemed like forever since she'd had a nice relaxing bath, and she planned to make full use of this luxury. So, she grabbed some clothes and a towel and turned on the tub. Grabbing some oils that were sitting out, Willow chose the lavender scented one and poured a bit into the water, along with some bath gel for some bubbles, then turned on the jets. She disrobed and stepped into the steaming water, sighing with pleasure, then sank down to relax.
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Spike meandered his way through Wolfram and Hart, no longer paying attention to the few odd glances he got when he went strolling through a wall. He thought for sure they would be used to him by now, but he really didn't care at this point. All he could think about was Angel asking Red to help fix him. Moreover, she'd agreed, that's what baffled him. That and the look of serene pleasure that had crossed her face when he'd physically touched her and she him.
He would be the first to agree that Willow was a beautiful creature, one deserving of someone to care for her properly. He wondered at what Angel could have told her that would have brought her away from.well, whatever it was she was doing these days. By the look on her face when she'd tried to hug him, Angel hadn't told her that Spike's form had returned in a less solid form.
His wanderings had brought him up to Angel's penthouse apartment and the door that lead to the guest quarters. He could smell the faint aroma of lavender wafting through the air, and caught Willow's unique scent as well. Walking through the door, Spike found out where the scents were coming from.the bathroom. He wondered for a moment whether he should leave and come back, when he heard Willow getting out of the tub.
He imagined Willow getting out of the bath, wet and naked, dripping on the floor. The breath he hadn't needed to take, hitched in his throat. Now he knew it had been too long for him, too long since the last time he was touched by anyone, by anything but the cold.
He watched as Willow walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her torso and bent over drying her hair with another. She didn't see him through all those red tresses, and didn't know he was there until she walked through him. The sudden coldness brought her up short and she spun around and saw Spike standing there.
"Spike," Willow squeaked, hugging the extra towel she was using to dry her hair to her body. "What are you doing in here?"
"Oh, well, I." Spike said, turning away from her. "I just wanted to talk is all."
"Well, you could have knocked.er.I'm sorry. That was stupid of me," Willow said apologetically, and berated herself for saying something like that. "Could you, um, wait outside the door until I get dressed?"
"Sure, Luv," Spike said and walked through the wall.
Willow shook her head; trying to remove the image of Spike walking through the wall, then went to go get dressed. She didn't know why she felt the need to cover up; tossing on a long-sleeve shirt and a long skirt. She went into the bathroom to dry her hair a bit more and looked in the mirror. Willow didn't know why she was fussing about everything; it was just Spike after all. It's just that it had been so long since the last time she'd seen him, and that was when he was off to certain death. To know that he was still, not alive, but not completely dead, was throwing her for a loop and she wasn't sure how to react to him now. Finally, she called to Spike to come back in.
Casually, Willow walked over to one of the chairs by the window and took a seat. She motioned for Spike to sit in the chair next to her.
"Can't," Spike said.
Willow looked at him quizzically then said, "But you're standing on the floor. Why wouldn't you be able to sit in a chair then?"
Her logic made sense and that pissed him off just a bit. This haunting stuff was a bit new to him and he still wasn't quite sure of all the rules. Like, if he sat down would he just fall through the chair on to the floor or would he fall through the floor as well down to the basement?
"Don't know, but if I fall down to the basement, I'm blaming you," Spike said, walking over to the chair. Willow giggled softly and watched as he closed his eyes and carefully reached back for the arms of the chair before he lowered himself down. Finding the firm chair underneath him, he opened his eyes and grinned broadly.
"There, so what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Willow asked.
"I.," Spike started to say, but faltered. What had he come here to talk to her about? He decided to stick to neutral ground. "How's life been?"
Willow laughed softly. She knew he was fishing for something to say, but she didn't think her life was what he wanted to talk about. She'd expected questions about Buffy from not only Spike, but Angel as well. Since he wasn't saying anything though, she wouldn't either.
"It's been hectic at times, easy at others," she said, pulling her legs up under her body and getting comfortable.
"Oh, uh, still in a nice big Scooby group then?"
"Actually," Willow said sighing, "no. No big, happy Scooby family anymore."
This intrigued Spike immensely. Willow, the one who was always there to keep them together even at her lowest points, was no longer keeping them together. He was tempted to ask the how's and why's of it, but decided not to. Spike was more interested in Willow right now and her reaction to him earlier and he wanted to know what she thought of his condition.
"Right, so no Scoobies anymore. What else has been going on with you?"
"With me?" Willow asked, genuinely surprised. It had not been often, back in Sunnydale, that Spike had even looked at her, let alone asked about her.
"No, the other witch sitting behind you.yes you," Spike said smiling.
Willow smiled and said, "I've missed you." Tears were threatening again, and she couldn't control them. To see him again, their savior, her savior.it was just too much. Plus, to see him in that state, that awful ghostly state, broke her heart.
"Red, Luv, what is it?" Spike asked, genuinely concerned. He didn't know what to do if she cried.
"Nothing," Willow said, sniffling. "Everything. You, seeing you again, remembering that life.I don't know."
They sat there remembering times past, the things they'd done together as a group, everything they had survived. It was a lot, Spike had to admit, and for someone her age, it was probably too much. Some of those things he himself had put her through and yet, here she sat crying for him, for times lost and gone.
"I don't know if I ever told you this, but I'm sorry," Spike said, looking out at the room, not wanting to see something in her eyes that could break him more then he already was.
"Why?" Willow asked. She was genuinely confused about this sudden apology. Spike had done nothing to her, not as far as she knew, and she thought this to be unnecessary.
"Because I don't remember if I ever apologized to you before, back.there," Spike said. He inhaled an unnecessary breath and exhaled slowly. This line of talk was getting him nowhere near what he actually wanted to talk about, their brief contact in the corridor.
Willow was still lost and didn't quite know what to say, so she stayed quiet. She knew that Spike had something on his mind and he would get to the point eventually. Besides, it was nice to sit here with him again. She'd missed his company, the way he always of leather and cigarettes, and that white-yellow hair. Inhaling, she was saddened to find that the leather and cigarette smell had not followed him into this ghostly form.
"Look," Spike said, gathering courage. "About back there.in the hall.I well, what was that all about?"
"Oh, uh, I.I don't know," Willow said. 'What had that been?' she asked herself. She couldn't bring herself to fully look at Spike, thinking he could see her thoughts. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered his cold hand on her check and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.
Spike sat watching Willow, watching the chill run through her. He didn't know if it was in disgust at what had happened or not. He didn't want it to be that, anything but that. It was just.it had been so long since he'd seen anyone from Sunnydale, and he wanted to know everything. Plus, this was Red, the Witch, the only one who never talked down to him. The only one who ever looked at him with anything other then disgust and hatred in her eyes.
Yes, there was Willow in her long flowing skirt and bright red tresses that were reflecting the light beautifully. He wanted to run his hands through that hair, feel the texture of it, feel it flow over his fingers like a waterfall. Closing his eyes, Spike reached out and concentrated on touching her hair. It seemed to take forever for his hand to encounter her tresses, but once they did, he wasn't disappointed. Her hair was still damp in places from her bath; the dry parts were soft and silky. Spike could hear her inhale quickly and hold her breath. Willow's heartbeat sped up, but not in fear, but from his touch. Finally, Spike let go of her hair, letting his hand fall into his lap, but he didn't open his eyes. Instead, he kept them closed and rubbed his fingertips together remembering the feel of those silky strands.
Willow sat amazed at his gesture, and touched by it, in both the physical and the emotional sense. She never thought he would have given her a second glance back in Sunnydale, and here he was luxuriating in the feel of her hair. It confused her and excited her all at the same time. It had just been so long since anyone had touched her that way, or looked at her with that potent mixture of longing and real interest. She was naturally intrigued.
"Uh, Spike," Willow said. She could feel a blush start to creep up her skin and she admonished herself for acting like the shy 16-year-old girl she had once been. "I honestly don't know what happened back there, in the hall."
Thinking about it, Willow decided to let her thoughts flow and try to open up to Spike. He seemed to need this conversation, no matter what he might say to the contrary, and she needed to get some things off her chest.
"It's, well, it's a lot of things. I don't know if you would want to hear it or not."
"I'll tell if you tell, Luv," Spike said, turning in his chair to face her more fully. Her touch, the look in her eye.he had to know why, or how. Noone had ever truly looked at him like that, with that much love, with that much caring.
"Alright," Willow said, and took a deep breath before beginning. "I don't know how coherent this will be, but stop me if I lose you. After I did the spell to bring out the natural power in all of the potential Slayers, I felt different. I don't know how to describe it really. It was like a connection to everything around me.only I couldn't feel you there, connected to me, and it hurt.
"Then, while we were safely tucked away on the bus, Buffy told us what happened. I had wanted to jump out of the moving bus, try to find the amulet, try to find anything, but they stopped me. I cried so hard. I know what you are going to say, we didn't spend enough time together for me to feel that way, and you're right. We didn't, but we did in a way.
"Remember when we first met, the night you kidnapped me and Xander so that I could do that love spell for you?"
Spike smiled as he remembered that night fondly, and Willow smiled with him. Their shared memory of that night washed through them, filling the room with a sense of nostalgia. Spike was amazed that she could look back on that and smile wistfully. The fact that she could made him hopeful.
"I don't know what it was. I was completely scared. The immobilizing kind of scared where you think that you'll never move again. Nevertheless, at the same time, I felt sorry for you. Even though you'd tried to kill us, to kill Buffy.I felt sorry for you, for you being in that much pain. I was amazed to see that you had actually cared for Drusilla, more then I ever thought a vampire could love anything. It touched me, made me feel that there was hope yet for all humanity. I know how corny that sounds, but you must realize, I was just 16 at the time.
"Then, in my first year of college, you came barging into my dorm room-"
"I didn't barge, you invited me.remember?" Spike said, correcting Willow.
"Right, silly me. Even after living years on a Hellmouth, and being in league with the Slayer, I still invited you in. That's beside the point. You came to kill me, but couldn't. The chip had, thankfully, stopped you." Spike scowled at the memory of the chip and Willow just laughed. "I know you didn't like the chip, but it saved my life, so I'm sorry if I have a certain fondness for that piece of hardware.
"At any rate, here I was again, with a roguishly handsome vampire in the same room with me. Moreover, you were hurting again. And again, I felt sorry for you. But, at the same time, you were nice to me, in your own 'you'd make a nice vampire' kind of way. Then we talked. Did you know I was depressed that night?" Willow asked.
"Roguishly handsome, eh?" Spike asked. Willow rolled her eyes, but Spike continued. "I knew something was off with you. It was wolf-boy, right?" Spike asked. He remembered her sitting on her bed when he'd come in, hugging a pillow to her chest, the smell of tears thick in the air.
"Yes, it had been because of Oz. He had left me, for some other she-wolf, and I was feeling very unwanted. So, your words, disturbing as they were, were actually a comfort to me. Someone wanted me, albeit in vampire form, but you wanted me. You remembered things about me from our last encounter. You have to understand that no one ever wanted me, or paid attention enough to remember anything about me. I was just a wallflower for most of my life. But, you remembered and that helped me feel better.later, after you had gone."
"Red.I.," Spike started to say, but trailed off. Her words meant so much to him, but he didn't know how to tell her. He looked at her, hoping that his feelings and their meaning could be projected to her through his eyes.
Willow watched him struggle with his words, wondering what it was he wanted to say. She watched emotions pass across his face, but they were almost unreadable, so deep, and her hand instinctively went out to cover his. When their hands touched, Spike closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her soft warm hand covering his. With his eyes closed, he tried to voice his feelings.
"Red, I want to thank you," Spike said
"Spike-"
"No, let me say this, I have to say this. I want to thank you for never looking down on me, for never pushing me away. You don't know how much it meant to me when you stuck up for me when I was feeling kicked around and at my lowest. Bloody hell, I've been kicked. But, never by you, Luv, never by you."
Their silence stretched out for a long moment. Then Spike opened his eyes and looked into Willow's eyes that were shining with unshed tears.
"I've got to go. I'm sure the Pouf has missed my haunting," Spike said, letting her hand fall through him as he stood to leave.
"You.you don't have to," Willow said quietly. She was enjoying her time with Spike and didn't want it to end. She noticed though that the sky had become dark outside. A yawn caught her off-guard.
"See, Luv, time for bed. Need your sleep and all that. I'll go bug Peaches. He's always good for a laugh or two," Spike said, and walked through the door.
Sighing, Willow got up out of the chair and went to the small wet bar she had in her room. 'An actual wet bar,' she thought as she poured herself a glass of water, taking it to the bedside table. Willow had to admit she was tired. Jet-lag had started to catch up to her mid-way through their conversation, but she hadn't wanted to discourage Spike. It was just so good to see him. Again, she promised herself that she would help him.
Pulling off her clothes and putting on an old t-shirt, Willow climbed into the large queen-size bed and snuggled into the soft satin sheets. They felt cool on her skin, and that reminded her of Spike's touch. Willow fell asleep quickly, thinking of Spike and how good it was to know that he wasn't lost to her forever.
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Standing outside Willow's door, Spike listened, as Willow got ready for bed. Briefly, he wondered if she slept nude, but pushed that thought out of his head. It wasn't proper to think like that.but he was a vampire after all, so thinking like that was alright. He hated times like these when having a soul became difficult because things he had formerly enjoyed thinking about were now 'wrong' and 'improper'.
There were still so many things he wanted to talk to her about, so many things he wanted to know. Like, what was she doing now if she was no longer with the Scoobies? Was she still seeing that Slayerette? If not, then why? Would she truly help him, and how? Just so many things.
He listened as her breathing evened out and her heartbeat slowed, indicating sleep had washed over her. Spike wanted to walk back in, watch her sleep, and see the peaceful __expression he imagined she wore. 'I'm a ghost, I can do it,' Spike thought to himself. ''Sides, she wakes up, I'll just go invisible or pop down to the next floor.'
Walking back through the door, Spike noticed that she had kept the light in the bathroom on. He wondered if she always did that or if she was just too tired and didn't remember it. So, he went and turned it off, throwing the room into darkness save for the lights of the city outside. Then, he moved to stand next to her bed and watched her.
The look on her face was more beautiful then he could ever have imagined; it was serene, almost angelic. She was a bewitching creature, and if he had needed breath, she would have taken it away. The soft snores she emitted made him smile. Spike was content while watching her sleep, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. He didn't know how long he had been standing there.
A soft moan brought him out of his thoughts. The absolute sensuality of that one single sound sent shivers down what would be his spine had he been flesh and bone. He wondered what it was she was dreaming about to cause her to make that sound. He watched intensely as her body slid and writhed under the silk sheets. Spike could tell she was aroused, he didn't need the smell of it filling the room to tell him that, but he was thankful he had that sense at least, the sense of smell. Her arousal was like the finest perfume to him, driving away the dark so all he could see and concentrate on was her.
Softly, Willow whispered Spike's name, and it rolled off her tongue before she licked her lips.
"Bloody hell," Spike groaned softly, rubbing himself through his pants. His name on her lips had pushed him over the edge and made him hard as a rock. Spike knew he was torturing himself by staying there, listening to her moan his name, but he didn't care.
Watching as Willow's hand slid its way under the sheet, Spike rubbed himself again. He wanted to see, to know where that hand was going, and to see what she would do while she moaned his name so sweetly. Carefully, Spike reached out for the sheet, concentrating on grabbing a hold of it, moving it. Just as he had it in his hand, Willow moaned again, breaking his concentration and the fabric fell through his hand.
Trying again, Spike was able to move the sheet down to her knees. Her hand had indeed traveled just where he'd thought it had, to her core. She was massaging herself slowly, writhing just a little, and thrusting her hips into her hand.
"To bloody be that hand," Spike murmured to himself. He wanted so badly to join her, to help her with this self-satisfaction. He didn't think he could though. Instead, he concentrated on himself. Thinking hard, Spike removed all of his clothes and sent them into the ether or wherever it was they went when he didn't have them on.
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Willow moaned again, bucking her hips slightly, unconsciously wanting more from the warm fingers that were making their way to where she needed contact the most. In her sleep, she dreamed of a very real, very flesh Spike, touching her, making her feel wanted.making her want him. She needed him. Somewhere deep inside her she knew that they needed each other. In her dream she begged for Spike to take her, to make her his, to make her complete.
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The soft curves of her body and the creamy milk-whiteness of her skin soon began to glow with the sheen of sweat. Her hand moved faster, and Spike grabbed a hold of himself, pulling just a little to test the feel of it, the effect of it. He noticed that he couldn't feel his hand so much as he could feel the tugging on his member. He cursed this ghostly state, but continued to pull and fist himself, for whatever good it would do him.
Willow moaned again, bucking her hips and moving her hand faster. Spike imagined the feel of her, the heat of her, and the taste of her. Tentatively he leaned over and placed his hand inside Willow's moving with her. He could feel the heat escaping her core; it was like the fires of Hell.only he thought he was in Heaven. He watched as a chill caught her as it traveled down her spine, but she didn't stop her ministrations, instead she sped up, Spike following suit.
A feeling built up inside of Spike, as it was building in Willow. He didn't think he could come to any sort of release in this form, but was determined to try. Willow, he could tell, was close, calling his name louder, begging for him.
Finally, Willow came in one long moan, jerking her body and her fingers kept up their frantic pace. She dreamt that Spike had filled her up, made her whole, and made her come. It was so intense in her dream, she thought it must be real
"Bloody hell, Red," Spike said, fisting one last time. Spike felt his insides tense before the semblance of an orgasm took him over the edge, through the floor, and all the way to the basement, landing on the cold concrete. Sitting up, he noticed he was still nude and concentrated on clothing himself.
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Willow's eyes opened fully, looking for Spike. She could still feel him filling her up, cold against the heat of her body, but he was nowhere to be found. Just Willow, naked in her bed. Lying back down, Willow thought about Spike and how, after this dream, she wanted desperately to make him flesh again.