Fixated

Face to Face
 

    My girlfriend just broke up with me. And that actually makes her my ex-girlfriend. All my friends must think I'm either nuts or dangerous. Dunno which one I'd prefer.

    And yet I don't seem to care.

    I only care about him. How is he gonna act now that he knows? Is he even gonna talk to me? How will I be able to stand his presence now that my secret is out? Shouldn't I move to some other town and start a whole new life?

    But I can't walk away from him.

-----------

    I come to my parents' house and can't believe what I see. I mean, I must be daydreaming, hallucinating, or whatever you wanna call it. 'Cause Spike's sitting on the steps of the porch, smoking a cigarette.

    It can't be. Not only would he not care enough about me to come here, but there is also no way he'd know I'd come here. I mean, even I didn't know where I was heading.

    But then, I guess it's only logical. I can't really go back to the room I share with Tara, now, can I? And where else could I go?

    Anyway, even if he isn't real, I can't walk away. Should he be a mirage of my sick mind or not, I have to face him. So I walk up to him, and I can feel my heart beat speeding up. I know he must be aware of it. Expectedly, I blush.

"What are you doing here?" That's it, Willow! Just pretend to hate him, that'llsort everything out. Not to mention that he's definitely gonna be fooled by that. Oh Goddess, he stands up, and isn't he gorgeous?

"Want a fag?" He extends his hand, presenting his cigarette to me.

    And I know that's sad, because of the whole lung cancer thing caused by smoking, but apart from the day he drank from me, this is the sweetest thing he's done for me in a long time. Probably since the day he comforted me about his unability to bite me. 'I could drain you in a heartbeat.' Yep, those were his exact words. I think.

    I guess I should probably answer him, because while I was off in my little world remembering his last attempt to kill me, he was expecting an answer. And he still is, eyebrows lifted in what seems like a pretty good imitation of concern, icy eyes locked with mine.

"Red?"

"No, thanks."

    He shrugs and puts the cigarette back to his lips. His eyes haven't left mine, and I suddenly feel tons of sympathy for all the frogs I've enjoyed dissecting. I guess I know how they felt then, now that I'm helplessly being studied by a master vampire on whom I have a serious crush.

"So what are you doing here?" I turn my gaze away, I can't stand it anymore.

"Checking on you, that's all," he replies carelessly, on an even tone. A few moments of silence ensue, during which I do my best to look at anything but him. "Why did you steal the Chronicles from the Watcher?"

    That's what I was afraid of. He knows exactly why, and yet wants me to admit it. Sadistic bastard. Still avoiding his gaze, I walk past him up the front door. The new door. I unlock it and turn back to him. "Put your cigarette off and come in."

-----------

    As soon as we settle in the living room, Spike sprawled on the new couch and me seated on one of the new armchairs -- luckily, my parents believed some gang destroyed our living-room and had it wholly redecorated -- he took another cigarette out and lit it. That's so typical of him.

"You sure you don't want one?" he asks before putting the lighter and the package back in his pocket.

    I shrug and get up. Why this sudden obsession with making me smoke? I go to the kitchen without a word. What could I tell him anyway? 'Remember that bite, wasn't it just great?' He'd laugh in my face. Plus, he must have guessed most of it already.

    I go to the fridge and take a bag of blood out. I know he's watching me. He must wonder why I keep blood in there. Quite simple. I used to always have some for Angel, just in case. When he went away to LA, I threw it all away. But since Spike's been helping us out, I figured that some day, he might be in the neighborhood, needing blood.

    What I couldn't guess would be that when that day came, it would be my blood he'd drink.

    Now a mug of blood is in the microwave and I make myself some coffee. I used to be unable to stand it, but really, once you've spent a couple of nights, as in from 9 pm to 6 am, researching some stupid demon, you understand that tea is no longer an option and you quickly get used to caffeine.

    The coffee is dripping into a small coffeepot, all too slowly. One drop after another. And I feel he's still watching me. Finally, the microwave rings and I take his mug out. I chose a simple black one. He's drunk in enough ridiculous mugs back then when he was living at Giles'.

    A few minutes later, my coffee's ready, and I've put his mug in the microwave again, because obviously, it's grown cold in the meantime, and I couldn't find the strength to bring it to him. I bring my own mug to my lips. The brown beverage isn't too hot, luckily. I hate losing all sensation on my tongue.

    The microwave rings for the second time, and I extend my hand to its door. Just as I touch it, another hand, a cold hand, does so as well. I start.

    His skin, on my skin.

    I must be blushing from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes as I take my hand away. "Why are vampires so fond of sneaking up on people?"

    He shrugs, smirking. "It's what we do." He opens the microwave door and takes the mug out. He turns into game face and drinks some blood. "Thanks, pet." His demon face smiles at me. "Though it was much better last time you fed me."

"You're welcome." That's it, Wills, just ignore that last comment. "Should we go back into the living room?"

"Whatever you want, love."

    I hate him. He has this way of giving a sexual undertone to everything he says. It has something to do with his grin. And his eyes. And his voice. I really do hate him. Almost as much as I want him.

    That's it, we're sitting in the same places once again. He's still sprawling, and I'm fidgeting.  Should I be the first one to say something? Nope. Taking another sip of coffee seems like a better option. Here it goes. Way to go, Willow. Nothing better than coffee to calm your nerves down.

"Thinking of answering my question any time soon?"

    Now's the time to look up from my coffee, then. Right into his amazing blue eyes. Guess he's not in game face anymore. He's not sprawled anymore either. He's put his mug down on the table and is resting his elbows on his thighs, studying me once again. I've never seen him so intent on something, apart from the time he watches Buffy, thinking noone's taking notice of him.

"I guess so," I answer lamely. "But I don't see much point in it. You already know."

"What do I know?" He's grinning again, obviously amused by me. Well, you know what? I'm sick of amusing people!

"That I'm crazy, sick, nuts, whatever stupid British slang you wanna call me? Me, being the only person perverted enough to be attracted to someone as disgustingly evil as you!"

    He looks shocked. I like that. I can shock people. How amused are you now? Oh, Goddess, I told him he was disgustingly evil. Good job, really. Now he's gonna like me a lot.

"Come here, Red." Ok, unexpected much? His look's softened, he's relaxed into the couch, waiting for me. And I can't move. "Bloody hell, come here now!"

    Why am I getting up now that his invitation sounds more like an order? I'd better stop thinking. That's it, let's just sit down right next to him. He turns to me.

"Pet, you're not sick. You're attracted to me, fine. Who could blame you?"

"Apart from all my friends, you mean?"

"It was a rhetorical question, Red. What I meant was, I'm an attracting bloke. Childer aren't exactly chosen for their intellect, believe me."

"Yeah, I know."

"Right, the Chronicles. What did you want to find in that damned book anyway?"

    I look down at the coffee, still in my hands. One of his comes and takes the mug away, sets it down on the table next to his before it comes back and grabs one of my own hands.

"Red, what were you looking for?"

    I stare at his hand on mine. "The reason for it all. You drank from me. And since then... I wanted to find the reason."

    He chuckles. "You're so young. There's not always a reason. Sometimes, things just happen."

    I look up into his eyes, and they're a lot closer than I expected. "So you think it's just me?" My voice's trembling, maybe with hope, probably with fear.

    His mouth is millimeters away from mine when he answers. "I know that it's you and me."

    His face comes even closer, and right when he's about to kiss me and I'm about to melt away in pure ecstasy, a voice behind us interrupts.

"Good lord."

-----------

    Sometimes things suddenly feel right.

    Suddenly you don't feel like a pervert anymore. And everything's shaping out great. And maybe your life still doesn't make much sense, but you don't care anymore. At least its meaninglessness doesn't imply it's not gonna be fun.

    And then, something unexpected happens.

----------

    I stand up immediately and turn to him. "Giles. You didn't knock."

"I think I did, Willow. I assume you were too caught up in -- whatever it was you were doing."

    I look at Spike, and he's taken his mug back and is drinking from it. Can't expect much help from him. Don't know why I ever thought I could have. Fine. I'll face Giles alone.

    Only when I turn back to him, he's not there anymore. There's only Ripper, striding towards Spike and grabbing him by the collar. Luckily the mug's back on the table. A spot of blood on the new couch would not have pleased my parents. Goddess, I'm thinking about spots when I should be thinking about Giles staking Spike!

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice is low, threatening, and I realise that his staking Spike is indeed a possibility.

"Giles, put him down!"

"Yeah, Ripper, you should listen to the girl."

"Do you think I always do what I should?" He tightens his hold on Spike's neck. "You couldn't have Buffy, you had to go and corrupt her best friend then."

"I'm not corrupted!" I yell, suddenly realising that I am indeed not.

    Meanwhile, Spike's managed to free himself, and I guess he hurt Giles in the process, 'cause he has brought a hand up to his head and is moaning in pain. Suddenly the moaning stops, he lifts his head up and looks furiously at Giles.

"Why the bleedin' hell do you think that has anything to do with the Slayer?"

    Ok, that wasn't what I expected, and neither did Giles, if the look on his face is anything to be trusted.

"Besides, you gotta give the girl some credit, I'm not the only one at fault here!" Spike goes on, gesturing at me.

    I sigh. "He's right, Giles. I -- you and I need to talk." I turn to Spike. "Leave now."

    His turn to look taken aback. He grumbles something, finishes the blood and hurries off. I turn to Giles.

"Want coffee? Tea?"

------------

    There's this man in my life.

    One of the people who matter the most to me. He's been there for me during that most troubled period, high school. He's helped me become the woman I am. And I want him to be proud of me.

    He's been there, this paternal figure, when I was looking for myself. He's been the father I've never really had, the father I've always needed. The trouble is with parents, one day you have to choose different paths. This day has come for Giles and me.

    There's a vampire in my life.

------------

    I bite on my lower lip as I walk back to Giles with a cup of tea for him and more coffee for me. He's sitting on the couch, on the other end from the one where Spike was. Should I see some sort of symbolism there? No, I guess it just means he hates Spike that much.

    Now, let's focuse. 'Cause we do need to talk. Yep. Big, serious talk. Alrighty. I'm all ready.

    Or not.

"Willow..." he starts, putting his cup on the table, but he's already visibly at a loss for words. This isn't gonna be easy. Oh, no.

"I guess I should talk first, you know. I mean, I'm the one we're gonna talk about, right?" I look down at the mug in my hands. Its warmth is spreading to my hands, and yet I crave only Spike's cold touch on my skin.

"I have but one question to ask." I look up and Giles is staring straight at me, intently, honestly. "Did Spike do anything to you? Anything to harm you, or --"

"He didn't," I interrupt him, because I know that's what I have to say. "It's all me. You know I let him drink from me a few weeks ago. Since then... I've been obsessed. With him."

"Do you think there might be a link?"

    I look away guiltily. "That's why I took the Chronicles." Our eyes lock, and I can almost see hope glistening in his eyes. Hope that there might be a logical explanation. Hope that I now have to shatter. "I didn't find anything." I don't look at him, I get up and pace, clutching my hands together. "I don't think there's a reason anymore. I -- I'm just attracted to him."

    Giles keeps silent for a moment, so I go on pacing and avoiding his eyes. I walk to the fireplace, touch lightly the cold marble of the mantelpiece and turn around abruptly. I start, because Giles is right behind me.

"Goddess! Don't do that anymore!"

    He smiles. "I apologise." He takes my hands in his and holds on to them. "Willow, do you realise that Spike might not return those feelings, that he is likely to be playing with you?"

"I know. I know... but I wanna take the chance. I'm a grown-up now, you know. Sort of."

    He tightens his hold on my hands. "I know that. And I will let you make your own decisions. You ought to decide how to live your life. I simply -- be careful, Willow. Promise me."

    I smile to him and nod. "I promise!" Then we hug, just like father and daughter. And all the tension's gone. Then he withdraws and puts his arm over my shoulders. That's quite unlike him, but it feels good.

"There's one thing I'm due to reproach you, though. You are aware of that, are you not?" The smile stretching my lips disappears immediately. But he pulls me a bit closer to his side, and I'm reassured. "You should have told me earlier."

"I couldn't even admit it to myself at first!" We smile at each other, but seriousness rushes back into his face.

"What about Tara?"

    Yeah. What about Tara? I guess that's the major question. Thanks for asking.

"I love her. A lot. But I can't -- I can't tell her."

"Can't you? She deserves the truth, don't you think?"

    Way to go, Giles. Awaken the guilt factor in me.  Argh. He's right.

"Yeah. I guess so. But it's too hard. Just -- I need some time. To figure things out. You won't -- tell them, will you?"

"No." Thank the Goddess. "I'll let you time."

"Thanks."

"Well, I think it's time for me to go home. Tonight's apparently research-free."

    He steps away from me towards the door. His hand's on the handle when I speak up. "What will you tell them then?"

    He looks back at me, smiling what really looks like a Ripper grin. "Willow, why would I have anything to tell them? I've never been here, after all." Then he leaves quickly, quietly.

    And I'm alone again. With all those thoughts and questions swarming in my head. Thoughts like incredulous 'Spike was about to kiss me!' and dreamy 'I was about to be kissed by Spike...' Questions like desperate 'How am I ever gonna be able to tell Tara about all this?' and anxious 'What will happen next time I see Spike? And the Scoobies?'

    Argh. There is no way I am spending the evening thinking about this. No way. I should do something, have some fun. I have two choices: virtual or real? Internet or Bronze?

    And it's not a real choice, because I know that I wouldn't be able to focus on anything tonight, so my comp's gonna stay alone for now. Dancing doesn't require focus.

    I'm going Bronzing tonight.

-----------

    The Bronze's crowded and I realise my mistake. They could be here. No research tonight. Where else could they be? But I scan the crowd and can't spot them. Alrighty. Let's have some fun.

    I walk to the dancefloor. The band sort of reminds me of the Dingoes. I do miss Oz a lot, but I'm over him now. What scares me the most is that I think I'm over Tara, too. I wish we could stay friends, but I doubt she'd like that?

    It really is scary. It's officially been over for only a few hours, but it feels like an eternity. At least I know we were happy together, and more importantly, that we were together. And that's what matters after all. The memories.

    I start dancing, quite oblivious to the people around. To me they're just bodies, moving more or less gracefully, more or less keeping time, sweating, having a good time. And I dance, following the rhythm of the languorous chords, giving myself over to the music. And yet I keep my eyes open, because while I don't care about them, they might care about me.

    As a matter of fact, a young man is coming towards me, obviously nervous. He stops in front of me, fidgeting. "Do you mind if I dance with you?"

    I smile at him. His nervousness is sorta cute. "Not at all."

    So we dance together and he's gaining confidence every second. At the end of the song, he leans in towards me and whispers to me: "Wanna go for a walk?"

    I study him, his large innocent-looking blue eyes, his pleasant childlike features, his pale freckled skin, his short brown hair, and I nod my agreement. We walk towards the exit and he takes my hand in his.

    We just wander around in the streets of Sunnydale, hand in hand, and it's a miracle we meet no vamps during these few minutes. We stay silent most of the time, exchanging small talk now and then. His name's Dave. But I don't care about him, and I'm doing this because there's nothing else to do. My mind is settled on a certain blond vampire and Dave cannot rival with him.

    I quickly get tired of this, predictably. I pull him under a tree and lean back against the trunk. He comes near me, and here comes the nervousness again. His face is inches away from mine when he speaks up.

"You know, it's my first time."

"First time kissing someone?" I ask innocently, as if amused by him, while deep inside myself, I'm just bored.

"First time draining someone," he replies as he turns into game face.

    But as soon as he's uttered that last word, a stake's been sticking out of his chest. He looks surprised and betrayed as he turns to dust. I smile coldly at him. "Not my first time staking someone."

    I turn to go, but a clapping sound emerges from the bushes nearby. I grip my stake, waiting for whoever it is to step out. Please let it not be that crazy extra-strong bitch Buffy's already met a couple of times.

    It's worse than that. It's Spike. And he's smirking.

"Amazing, love! That little act... amazing. You'd have made a great Childe."

"Too bad you were already chipped, huh?" I say sarcastically.

"Indeed."

    His tone is way too serious for me to feel only slightly at ease. So I just turn around and walk away, because it's what I do best. He falls in step with me.

"Don't think I'll let you go so easily, pet."

"Yeah, making things easy for people is just not what you do."

"Exactly. If you want me, believe me, it's not gonna be easy."

    That makes me stop dead in my tracks. "What's that supposed to mean?" That question sounded much more hopeful than it was supposed to. In fact, it was supposed to sound threatening.

    And predictably, Spike doesn't answer, doesn't even stop walking. He just sniggers. So I follow him because really, what choice do I have? And I go on urging him to tell me what he meant, because I'm unable to stay silent just now.

    And after a few minutes, a door suddenly closes, and I'm in his crypt. When exactly did we come near that place? I must have been too engrossed in my questioning to notice our surroundings. Good going, Willow.

"You want to know what I meant?"

    I look at Spike, and he seems to be the only sensible element around. Nothing seems to make sense but his presence. So I just nod.

    I'm harshly thrown back into the closed door, and a cold body is pressed against mine, and two cold lips are crushed against mine, and a cold tongue is playing with mine, and two cold hands are efficiently taking my clothes away. And I let him proceed, because it makes sense, because it feels good.

    Spike's making passionate, brutal love to me feels incredibly good.

next