Rating: R
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Feedback: PLEASE!!!!
Summary: Willow and Spike share a night of passion. But it doesn't mean the same thing to both of them. Spike POV.
Distribution: If you have permission to archive my previous fics, you may have this. Otherwise, please ask first.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: This fic was written for the Winter of Spillow Live Journal Community. Oh, and it's my birthday today (January 14th).
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She was so warm and soft, making him feel almost alive again when he was inside her, filling her, and filling himself with her heat. He was sure Willow had felt it: his passion, his need, his desire. That night in his crypt she hadn't been able to control herself, tearing his shirt in her impatience to get to his bare flesh. Yet, despite her urgency, she had touched him in ways that the Slayer never did; seeming to care as much about his pleasure as her own, responding to him, his touches, his caresses, and not merely to the frenzy of her own movements. She didn't race towards her climax, ignoring everything that got her there the way that Buffy always did. She paid attention...to both what they were doing together and to him, Spike, the man she was sharing her body with, never looking at him with disgust or closing her eyes and trying to forget whose cock was inside her. It hadn't just been sex, not to Spike. He had been so sure that it hadn't been for Willow, either. He had felt so surely that they had made love, shared something beautiful and meaningful. And he had been so certain that Willow would come back to him.
But the next night passed, and the next, with only the Slayer in his bed, riding him like a mechanical bull, taking what she needed and giving nothing in return. Leaving him with nothing but bruises and blankness. Leaving him longing for Willow. For the way her eyes had stared right into him when she came, for the way she looked with sweat gleaming on her pale skin, for the sounds she made, for the softness of her hands...for the way she took away the cold and made it seem as if he could feel the sun on his skin once more.
Did she know about Buffy? Was that why she never came back? No. He was sure she would have given some indication if she did. He knew her too well to think she could keep that knowledge to herself. She would have come to him, railed at him. And he would have explained, telling her why he let the Slayer use him as she did, imploring her to forgive him and to understand.
Was it him? Hadn't it been as wonderful for her as it had been for him? He had given himself to Willow completely, showing her the passion he felt for her, taking her with an intensity he knew she'd never felt from Dogboy or the stuttering witch. And he knew she had enjoyed it, his vampiric senses and over a century of experience made it impossible for him not to know when a woman was feigning ecstasy. So it couldn't have been that she hadn't enjoyed being with him.
So what was it, then? Why hadn't Willow come back to him? Why wasn't she there right now, in his bed, beneath him, screaming his name as her green eyes gazed into his blue ones, warming him with her fire?
At first he had thought that ignoring her might work, might hurt her enough that she would come to him in her pain, looking for answers. But it had been a week, and there was no sign of even the blow to her pride that Spike had thought would be the least effect his coldness would have on her. And there was still no Willow.
Well, his redhead had always been a shy girl, maybe that was the problem.
Maybe she wasn't aware that he wanted more from her than just that one
night. Maybe it was time to put his own pride on a shelf and seek Willow
out. Tell her how he felt. Sure, he'd have to explain about Buffy, as well,
if things were going to continue between them. But Willow was the most
forgiving person he had ever met, and was willing to do anything for those
she cared about. Look at the way she was giving up magick for her cold-hearted
friends and for that ungrateful witch-bitch. He knew Willow still fancied
herself in love with the pasty-faced nothing, but he could cure her of
that, he was sure of it. The night they had shared proved that. Willow
would never have made love with him if Tara was really her everything.
And she had to be tired of doing everything that was asked of her and still
getting nothing from her friends or the girl who had claimed to love her.
Spike knew that once he had Willow, he would never push her away and leave
her alone the way Buffy, Xander, and Tara had done. He could so easily
fall in love with Willow, feel things for her that he now knew he had never
felt for the Slayer. He was certain of that. Now all he had to was talk
to Willow alone and make her see that he could be everything she needed,
if only she'd give him the chance.
The End