defendthylove

              Title: Defend thy Love
              Author: Elka
              Email: midspark@e...
              Rating: R
              Spoilers: My own season four verse - no implant or Initiative. Oz hasn't left.
              Distribution: The regulars.
              Disclaimer: The Grr, Argh Guy gets it.
              Author's Notes: This is a series I posted about a million years ago. I'm not sure how many people actually read or remember it. I'm rewriting it and
              improving it. Like a re-release in technicolour instead of black and white.

-----

              Part 1

              She was flung savagely on the ground, jumped on and slapped. Her shirt was
              ripped open, shredded, and yanked off. He pushed his hands roughly over her
              encased breasts. Squeezing them viciously, he breathed in deeply.

              She stared up into his eyes - he looked at her quickly, stopping his actions
              for a second in time. He looked away again, concentrating on her
              body, just a vessel of his pleasure.

              The straps of the black material snapped in his strong hands. Her nipples
              betrayed her struggles to get away, he stared down at her lovely globes,
              kneading them with a desire only found in someone who lived for nights -
              nights of passion, nights of death, nights of heartache - he could hear her
              heart pounding.

              He lifted himself off her, just enough to push the long sheer skirt down her
              hips and past her knees. A wave of surprise flashed through his
              passion-filled eyes as he saw the fruits of his labor awaiting him. No
              panties, just pure innocent flesh, waiting for his penetration and release.
              He pried her knees apart with experience and forced himself between them.

              She stared with wide eyes, ready for everything he was willing to give her,
              she knew he was going to take it and escape was not an option. She clamped
              her mouth shut as he pulled out his throbbing member, eyes half close with
              desire as she lay before him.

              He pushed himself to her opening - teasing her with just the tip, feeling
              her juices spill out and mix with his, their smells of arousal filling the
              night air and dancing in the moonlight.

She held her breath as he pushed the head in her tight, hot box. Her pussy
opened for him, prepared to be shoved into.

He leaned down, close to her ear and whispered. "Just breathe."

              She exhaled as he thrust into her to the hilt, her head snapped back, neck
              exposed. He took advantage of the position, holding himself in her, not
              moving. He kissed her neck, the sensitive place where shoulder met neck and
              passion was unyielding. She moaned.

              He pulled back, almost all the way out before shoving in again. He reached
              behind her and pulled her legs onto his shoulders, giving him complete
              access to her, her most private places were now his.

              She was filled with lust, eyes closed, she met his strokes with her own
              needy, passionate thrusts. Her breathing matched the labor the two made.
              Sweat trickled down the valley of her breasts.

              He watched the moisture fall from her neck down between her breasts. He fell
              forward from his own action, licked the sweat and moved his mouth to her
              hard, alert nipple. He sucked like a baby taking a drink from his mother.

              She held his face to her breast, letting him switch between the two. She
              knew she was close, he was too, she could see it in his eyes when he looked
              up at her.

              He tensed as the moment approached. Stopping to tease her, to make her
              scream and beg for release. His eyes gleamed with desire and hatred. He
              pushed the red strands from her face so he could see her complete submission
              to him, he was overwhelmed with power and arousal.

              Her moans of protest paid off. He thrust into her with renewed enthusiasm,
              ready to take them over the edge. The moment was so close she could feel it,
              a few more strokes and everything in the world would be hers, the moon, the
              stars, everything in the big, black sky over her head would sparkle more
              brilliantly than anything she had ever seen.

              The passion mounted as he felt his time approach. He shoved himself deeply
              and yelled as he released himself into her. He shook involuntarily, eyes
              squeezed shut as the feelings washed over him.

              Sublime bliss. She forced her eyes open as she came, she made herself stare
              at the stars. They flashed brightly above her head, illuminating to almost
              blindness. The sky shook in front of her, changing from black to white,
              everything was white, except the figure in front of her. The one who had
              given her the most intense feelings she had ever experienced in her life.

The stars dimmed and the sky darkened. The night was peaceful.

              She didn't feel him pull out and lie next to him until she turned her sore
              neck to face him. Everything in her body ached, she was spent and tired and
              wanted nothing more to sleep for a thousand years and one more.

              He saw her tense and hold her breath as he reached to touch her face, his
              hand shaking from the feelings that still ran through his body like
              electricity. He smoothed her burning, moist flesh.

"Just breathe." He whispered.

Part 2

              Willow wrapped her arms tightly across her abdomen, trying to discreetly
              hide the purple bruise on the side of her face. After the raping, Spike had
              left, leaving her naked and battered in the cemetery.

              She blinked the tears away, the moment of passion had been quickly replaced
              with shock when she realized what had happened. Facing her friends scared
              her more than anything in the world. She knew they would insist on hearing
              the entire story, but she wasn't sure she could tell it. Willow sighed and
              knocked on Giles' door.

              Laughter slipped through the cracks of the heavy door, she glanced in the
              window. Her friends were sitting around Giles' bachelor pad, books open
              around them, laughing as Xander animatedly told a story, gesturing wildly
              with a potato chip in his hand. Even Angel, who sat with his hand lightly on
              Buffy's back, joined in the laughter, a rare of display of amusement. Her
              grief took over and she turned to leave.

              Angel couldn't help but laugh at Xander, the boy irritated him, but never
              failed to regale the group with silly stories. He glanced down at Buffy, her
              face lit up with joy. Oz sat on the floor, a faint smile traced over his
              lips. Xander's demon-turned-human girlfriend, Anya, sat slightly apart from
              the group, staring adoringly up at him. Giles leaned against the doorway to
              the kitchen, book in hand, but closed. Everyone was relaxed and comfortable.

A presence outside forced Angel to cast his eyes to the window, he saw the
flash of red hair walk step off the doorstep and cross the small courtyard.

              He leaned in and whispered to Buffy that he was going to get some air. She
              nodded and smiled up at him, squeezing his hand. The tired Slayer turned her
              attention back to Xander and laughed.

Angel slipped out the front door, closing it quietly behind him.

"Willow."

Willow stopped, halfway up the stairs, she kept her back to him.

"Where are you going? Xander's telling stories...and there are
refreshments." Angel said uncomfortably.

The red hair nodded twice.

Angel walked to Willow, reaching a hand out to her. "Is something wrong? Do
you want me to get Buffy?"

She shook her head.

              He touched her shoulder, gently turning her around. She gazed at her feet,
              hand covering the bruise that covered a good part of her right cheek. Willow
              winced as he reached up to pull her hand away.

Angel spoke to her in a soothing tone. "Willow? If you don't want me to get
Buffy, you have to tell me what's wrong. I'll try my best to make it right."

Before she could answer, he drew her arm away from her face, revealing the
injury.

              He felt the anger rise within him, the demon coming through, the piece of
              him that fought to protect the helpless and innocent. As Angelus, he had
              tortured Willow, but as Angel, he couldn't fathom why anyone would want to
              hurt the ever-genuine and caring girl.

"Who did this to you? How did this happen?"

The tears came, falling hard and fast. She gasped for breath in between
sobs.

"He..." She tried to control her cries enough to be coherent. "He beat me.
In the cemetery."

"Who did? Who beat you in the cemetery?" Angel wiped the unbruised side of
her face with the back of his hand.

              "He, he did things." She couldn't bring herself to admit the whole truth to
              Angel, but realized she must, it humiliated her to think about the things
              she had done with Spike the night before in the abandoned cemetery. The way
              part of her had enjoyed it and even encouraged it.

"Did what things? I know it's hard, but you have to tell me."

"He raped me." Willow whispered. "I was walking home and he grabbed me and
pulled me into the cemetery and ripped my clothes and did things to me..."

Angel felt the corners of his soul crack.

Part 3

"Angel...what's going on? Willow?" Buffy stepped outside. "Oh, God, Will,
what happened?"

Willow stood still as a statue. After admitting to Angel of the rape, she
had shut herself down, unmoving, unresponding, just being.

"She was raped. In the cemetery." Angel informed Buffy in a hushed tone.

              Buffy's face contorted in confusion, she felt the anger surge through her.
              She seethed at the news, keeping her composure was a struggle. "Who? Who did
              this?"

"I don't know, she won't say. She's in shock. Buffy, I know you're upset, I
am, too, but you have to stay calm."

The two glanced over at her. Willow stood staring at the moon. Angel took
her arm and gently led her into the apartment.

-----

"So, what's the plan? How do we find this guy?" Xander asked, staring at
Willow nervously.

She hadn't moved since Angel and Buffy had brought her inside and relayed
the information. She just sat and gazed at the moon framed in the window.

"Well..." Buffy started, slipping a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't
see what we can do until Willow's ready to talk about it."

              "That's a good idea." Oz spoke up. He stood away from the group, facing the
              wall. "Let's sit around and do nothing while my girlfriend is fucking raped
              in a cemetery. This is bullshit, Buffy, and you know it. We have to do some
              shit or I'll do it myself."

              "I wish I was still an avenging demon, then I could rip his lungs out and
              shape them like balloon people." Anya added as the entire group erupted into
              argument.

"I want the moon." Willow murmured, unable to be heard over the din. "And
the stars and the sky." She whispered, hugging herself tightly.

Her friends fought on as the redhead silently slipped out unnoticed, leaving
the group to their own devices.

-----

              Willow walked all the way without feeling her feet touch the ground. All she
              felt was the agony of her injuries, but the biggest pain was the dull
              throbbing in her heart. Her conscience screamed at her as she let the eerie
              environment consume her. She knew it, she could feel the presence inside
              her, it was a sharp twinge that got stronger as she approached.

              A wisp of smoke swirled around her, she felt the coolness on the back of her
              neck. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, steadying her shaking
              legs.

"I knew you'd come back." He whispered.

Part 4

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? What do you want? You're the one that came."

"You were waiting for me."

"I knew you'd come."

"Why? How?"

"You can't stay away."

"You hurt me."

"Not enough."

"You hate me...why did you make love to me?"

              "Make love to you? You're so naive. That wasn't love, it was lust, not even.
              It was frustration. Frustration taken out on the closest chit that would
              give it away."

"I'm more than that."

Sparks flew through the air with a flick of his wrist, the cigarette glowed
in the dark cemetery. Her face tilted to the moon.

"The moon is pretty tonight."

"I don't look at it."

"Why not?"

"Why should I?"

"You answer questions with questions, why?"

"So do you."

"What do you want?"

"I don't want anything."

"Do you want me?"

"No. I don't need you. I don't need anyone."

"That's not true. Everyone needs somebody. You're vulnerable."

"Vulnerable? I could snap your neck from where I stand."

"You wouldn't."

"Why the bloody hell wouldn't I?"

"You're vulnerable."

"Damnit. You repeat everything, do you?"

"What do you want?"

Their eyes met. He turned the question around on her.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know. Things have changed. What you did... Things have changed."

"Things always change."

"Philosophy. Never would have guessed. You're hard to figure out."

"Don't try. You wouldn't get far. I'd kill you."

"Why?"

"I don't want to be figured out."

"You already have been."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know."

"I get it, things have changed. We're going around in circles."

"Everything goes in circles."

"Very phili-bloody-sophical. One more time, what do you want?"

She stared at him intensely, not pulling her gaze from his.

"I want the moon. I want the sky."

"What for?"

"To have."

"You don't want much."

"I want the stars."

"The stars." Pause. "Would you name them?"

"No... I'd count them."

"All of them? Take a long time, wouldn't it?"

"An eternity."

"You won't live that long."

"I know."

"You don't make sense to me."

"I think I do. You're vulnerable. You made me vulnerable like you. We have a
connection."

"Connection, nothing, you little whore. I used you for a fuck, that's it."

"That doesn't hurt."

"What?"

"You're trying to hurt me. You've hurt me already, you can't do it again."

"Would you bet on that?"

"We have a connection."

              "No. I could hurt you again. I could do what I did to you last night, but I
              could make you die, you wouldn't get the chance to live again." He took a
              drag off the cigarette. "I hurt you last night."

"Yes. You hurt me. But pain goes away, with time."

"What time? Time hasn't passed."

"Time is strange, it effects people, takes them over, does things to their
minds. They forgive, they forget, they hate, they love."

He didn't answer.

"You agree with me."

"No. I could never agree with you."

"Why not? Do you hate me?"

"I don't feel anything for you. Live or die. Makes no difference to me."

"You're vulnerable."

"I'm strong."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Fine."

"I'm leaving..."

"So, go."

"You'll let me? You're not going to kill me?"

"It isn't necessary."

She nodded and turned to leave.

He watched her walk a few steps before calling out to her.

"What do you want?"

She stopped, turned, and bit her lip. She glanced at the sky and smiled.

"You know what I want."

"You want the moon and the sky...and the stars."

She left.

Part 5

            Willow's eyes fluttered open. The ceiling was different, she tried to move
              her head but was struck with an intense pain. Her head throbbed, her arms
              were numb, everything hurt. Trying to raise a hand to her face, she found
              them bound tightly above her head.

              Her surroundings were vague and unfamiliar. She was in a fairly large room,
              tied to an equally large bed. The window was sealed shut; nails haphazardly
              hammered a black cloth to block out the sunlight. A single sheet was draped
              loosely over
              her naked torso; her chest, plagued with bruises and bite marks, was
              uncovered.

"You're awake." Spike entered the room, his body gleaming from an apparent
shower. A white towel was wrapped around his waist.

              "You need to get cleaned up." He kneeled over her on the bed, inches from
              her beaten and blood-caked face. "And then you need to get out of here. I
              don't want the Slayer--"

"What happened?" Willow interrupted, pulling her one free hand from it's
binding.

              Spike chuckled coolly. "What? Don't remember? Guess I knocked you out harder
              than I thought. No worries, pet, you performed wonderfully, even
              unconscious."

Willow moved her legs as he worked on the second knot. She felt the searing
heat between her thighs and winced.

"Careful, luv, I got a bit carried away. Forgot you were human." He pulled
the thick ropes away and sat back.

Willow examined her burnt and bleeding wrists. "Why did you do this to me?"

He smirked at the question, surveying his brutal handiwork. "Because I can."

"What do you want from me?" She drew a sore arm slowly to face, pushing her
tangled and matted hair from her eyes.

"No, we're not hashing through this again. You were there."

"You said you'd let me go. In the cemetery."

"I said I wouldn't kill you. I couldn't resist taking you again."

"But why?"

"Enough." Spike growled, turning away from her. "Get up. You have to take a
shower and leave before anyone notices you were gone."

Willow attempted to get up, shrinking back on the bed from the pain. "I--I
can't."

"What?" He faced her. "You can't what?"

"I can't move. It hurts too much. I don't think I can walk."

For a split second in time, Willow thought she saw remorse in his eyes, but
it was gone before she could think it through.

              Spike sighed and walked over to the bed, easily scooping her tiny body in
              his arms. The sheet covering her slipped off, revealing more bruises and
              welts. A pain shot up her leg making her whimper and grab his shoulder for
              support. She quickly bit her lip and tried to shake off the tears. It hurt
              so much.

              He looked at her trying not to cry, trying to be brave. Something flashed
              through him. Something he hadn't felt in a long time. Something he couldn't
              place.

              Willow rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her through the large,
              dark house. A symphony of woods composed the temporary home, everything was
              bare. Few chairs and tables scattered through the house. She tried
              desperately to remember what had happened the night before. She recalled
              turning to leave the cemetery, then strong hands grabbing her, she saw the
              moon as she fell to the cool ground.

              Her eyes opened wide as flashes of the previous night passed in front of her
              eyes. Him standing over her, strong fists raining down at her, eyes glowing
              angrily. Taking her hard and fast, not giving her time to breathe. The
              flashes shot through her brain, but that's all they were, flashes.

She moaned in pain as he set her down in the bathroom, she stumbled against
him on unsteady feet.

              Spike grabbed her as she fell, instinctively supporting her tiny black and
              blue frame. Flashes of the night before vividly fired through his head.
              Bright colors and sounds shook him. As soon as they started, they ended and
              he flew back to earth, back in the bathroom, cradling the pint-size redhead.

"I'm okay. I think I can take it from here." Willow struggled, pulling
herself up and balancing herself weakly.

              He nodded, disturbed by the vision-like memories that had struck him like a
              hammer. He backed out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
              Something inside of him jolted as he leaned against the door. A pain like no
              other ripped through his body. Unable to make a sound, he crumpled to the
              floor.

Part 6

Spike

              He pulled himself to his feet as the pangs subsided. Replacing the drooping
              towel around his waist, he stumbled to his bedroom. Glancing at the thick,
              blood strewn ropes caused a sharp stabbing behind his eyes. He shook his
              head and opened the closet.

Willow

              She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was purple and yellow,
              a deep, dried gash etched on the left side. There were nail gouges down her
              neck, clawed around the marks of two very sharp teeth. Her entire body
              resembled her face, she was barely recognisable, battered and used. She
              shakily turned the water on, staring as the steam clouded over her mirror
              image.

Spike

              Pulling on a fitted black sweater, he walked across the room to the dresser.
              He had left the mirror hanging on the wall when he had killed the previous
              tenants of the house. Just for kicks. Spike smoothed his hair back, glancing
              in the mirror as he always did. There was nothing.

Willow

Willow gingerly lifted her leg and stepped into the shower. The hot water
stung her injuries, rapidly increasing the pain. She cried out.

Spike

              His head snapped up as he heard the call from the bathroom. Out of the
              corner of his eye, he saw something in the mirror, his own reflection. His
              piercing eyes and platinum hair flashed before him.

Willow

              She cleaned her wounds as best she could, the water reddening and numbing
              her. The pain between her legs was vicious, she felt as if she had been
              ripped apart. Willow cringed as her wrists met the boiling water, her eyes
              cast down at the rope burns wrapped around her arms. The skin had been worn
              raw from her struggles. Another flash came over her, she didn't see herself,
              she saw him, unlike she had ever seen him before. But there were two, almost
              as if one was a reflection of the other.

Spike

              "This is bullshit." He mumbled, reaching for a cigarette, he lit it quickly
              and drew it to his lips. "I don't have a bloody reflection." He eased back
              on the bed, pushing the ropes out of the way. As his fingers touched the
              bindings, a shimmer passed over his eyes. He saw two wrists, blistered and
              raw, water cascading over them.

Willow

              The knots in her neck pulled as she tilted her head back to rinse the soap
              from her hair. The suds rolled down her back, stinging the slashes
              delineated in her flesh. The pain had tapered off some, but it had become
              part of her, expected. Willow reached behind her and twisted the water off.
              She stood for a moment, waves of dizziness washed over her. She reached out
              for the smooth, ceramic wall to balance herself.

Spike

              He dragged the razor across his chin, he had long since memorised the
              contours of his face. He gazed at the emptiness in the mirror, part of him
              hoping the flash would appear again, the chance to see himself, to be sure
              he even existed. A ripple of dizziness disrupted his equilibrium, his left
              foot poised himself as the light-headedness passed. The razor cut into
              Spike's cheek and he reached up to wipe away the drop of blood.

Willow

              Her reflection was worse than it had been. Her skin, blotchy and red from
              the water. She pushed her dripping hair behind her ears, examining her
              damaged face. She sighed, she couldn't think like this. Nothing was right.
              "I think he might have smacked a few things loose in there." She said,
              tapping her bruised temple. Something caught Willow's attention in the
              mirror. She reached up to dab at it, brow furrowed with confusion. Her
              whisper dropped suddenly on the cool, crisp tile. "What the--" She stared
              down at the fresh drop of blood on the tip of her finger.

Part 7

         Willow limped delicately back to the master bedroom, holding a small towel
              in front of her, the rough material too painful on her wounds. Strange
              things had been happening that morning, the blood, the flashes, she couldn't
              figure it out.

              Spike was sitting on the bed with his back to the door when she entered the
              room. He was holding a hand to the side of the face, just staring into
              space.

              "Uh...do you have any aspirin or maybe a gun so I can just shoot myself
              now?" She rolled her eyes at her own inappropriate joke. This guy had beat
              and raped her...twice and she was asking for aspirin.

"No." He replied, his voice frail.

"Right, why would you, I mean, you don't need it." Willow nodded.

"It's not that. I can't swallow pills. I was always afraid to choke on
them."

Willow's face contorted, painfully, trying to stifle laughter. "Mmm."

She stood waiting for him to say something, or even look at her. When he
didn't, she continued.

"I'll be out of your way if you could, uh..."

He turned his head in her direction. "I'm not going to."

"Not going to what?"

"Apologise."

"Actually, I was going more for pants."

              Spike stood and pointed to a chair behind her, she glanced at her clothes
              folded neatly on the wooden chair. Granted, they were blood stained and
              ripped, but they were tucked immaculately together.

              Willow picked up her clothes and sat on the bed with them, she wrapped the
              towel gently around her shoulders to conceal her naked body. Her skirt had a
              tear up the side, but was still wearable, she unfolded it and bent to lift
              her feet into it.

              A strange feeling came over Spike, the same he had earlier. He reached over
              and pulled the towel off her, staring at the deep wounds crisscrossed over
              her back.

Willow felt the towel fall from her shoulders, she watched Spike out of the
corner of her eye, curious.

              He touched his fingers to the scars, the feeling came back again, stronger.
              He couldn't place it. It was an unfamiliar sensation that made his skin
              crawl.

She winced at his touch, arching her back, pulling away from the contact. He
snapped his hand back.

              "No." He voiced harshly. What he had felt was remorse, regret, sympathy for
              the battered girl. It made him angry, enraged. He lashed out at her,
              striking the side of her head, sending her rolling off the bed to the hard
              wood floor with a sickening crack.

She whimpered pulling her knees tightly to her chest. "No, no, no." She
cried.

              "You." He glared down at her. He raised a powerful arm to hit her, but felt
              himself falling, falling slowly, as if time had tripled and every second
              lasted an hour. He landed on the floor solidly.

Willow backed away from the shaking creature, afraid to be near him, she
climbed on the bed, wrapping her fragile body in the soft sheets.

              Spike stood, stumbling back against the chair, but regaining his balance. He
              growled at the trembling girl. The chair was thrust over his head and thrown
              at her. Willow backed away, but caught the splintered wood in the hip.

              As she weakened, Spike felt the power surge through him again. He climbed on
              the bed, forcing her under him. Her pussy has been abused, the skin torn and
              bloody. He grabbed at her breasts, yanking at the tender flesh. She screamed
              in agony, the pain shooting up and down her body. He reached down and
              claimed her bruised lips with his, savagely pressing against her, trying to
              recreate a passion.

              The colors and flashes of light ran rampant in front of his eyes. Images of
              blood and brutality plagued him, screaming at him, possessing him. Bright
              spectrums of pain and agony took over. He forced the pain upon Willow,
              striking her face, banging her lithe arms against the solid wood, scratching
              sharp fingernails over her abdomen, carving his anguish into her.

              The sounds blared inside his head, horrible screeches of torment and
              capture. He yelled in torture. The colors swirled around him, moving his
              abusing hands. The renderings became more and more violent and vivid. Spike
              delivered one final, inhuman blow to Willow's head and collapsed as the
              noise halted abruptly. He fell off the girl and rolled over, chest heaving,
              eyes searching the ceiling wildly.

              He glanced over at the girl, unmoving beside him, blood dripped from the
              side of her head, her mouth had swollen twice it's size and was tinted a
              hideous purplish red. A chunk of her beautiful red locks had been ripped
              from her head and lay next to her on the pillow.

Spike stared at her, mangled and crushed. He could hear her heartbeat,
faint, but beating in her chest.

A pain rose from his lungs through his chest. Something happened. A strange
sensation swept over him, different from the others.

He breathed.

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