Pairing: Spike/Willow
Summary: Spike gets his own back.
Distribution: If you have any of my previous fics, you can have this one. Anyone else, please ask first.
Feedback: Please!
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: I wrote this to thank Tonya for all the things she does for me! I hope you like it, Tonya! And thanks again for the Paid LJ and the gorgeous banners!
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It began with a kiss.
Well, to be honest, there was no way to know how it began. But Spike was too intent on living in the now to give things a past. He might have an infinite number of tomorrows ahead of him, but he hated to look at yesterdays. Especially since the chip. That damned chip, which had emasculated him and turned him into a pathetic shadow of the demon he had once been. The chip that had made him what he was today, a fanged puppy trailing along after the Slayer, begging for a scrap of whatever she would give him. Grateful to be beaten and taken by the bitch he had once fancied the love of his unlife.
Well, he might still have to let Buffy use him like a vampire dildo whenever she pleased-she was, after all, still the Slayer-but it didn't mean he couldn't find a way to get some of his own back. And he had.
One night, after a session of abusive shagging with the blonde bane of his existence followed by a trip to Willie's to get piss-drunk, he'd run into the Slayer's ex-pet-witch-turned-junkie-pariah and he'd impulsively invited her back to his crypt for a round of "share my pain". That had been the first time.
He'd like to say that one thing had led to another, but it hadn't. Spike wasn't that drunk, certainly didn't stay that drunk long enough to make any excuses. Things had led to things because he had led them there. His long-ignored vampiric capacity for sensing human pain and weakness had led them there.to his bed.
And while Willow hadn't fought him off-if she had, it would have been all over, thanks to the chip-a part of Spike knew that she hadn't really wanted what happened. And that part of him gloried in being a taker once more. Being the one in control. The one who said what and when, and whose needs were the primary thing, hell, the only thing, that mattered.
He still remembered her stupefied look when he'd leaned in and kissed her.
"When was the last time anyone touched you, Red? Cared for you? Wanted you?" he had asked her.
And she had said nothing, just let the tears shine in her eyes and allowed him to do as he would with her. He had guided her over to his bed and gently undressed her, letting his hands and lips roam over her porcelain flesh. That was something that was never a part of what he did with Buffy. There was no time for exploration with her, just fast, hard and dirty sex. Well, that was not what he wanted from Willow.
He was still amazed that Willow allowed him to take so much time, to do whatever he pleased. It was obvious to him that she didn't really enjoy it, though he did try to please her. He had the oddest feeling that she didn't want to enjoy it. That she felt as if she didn't deserve to enjoy it.
Spike thought of trying to heal that scarred part of her psyche that denied her the right to any pleasure, but then thought better of it. If it weren't for her immeasurable self-hate, she wouldn't come to him at all. And Spike needed what Willow gave him. the ability to take, to use, without thought or concern or regret. The ability to treat her the same way the Slayer treated him. And he consoled the part of himself that did feel guilt by reasoning that she must get something out of their encounters, or she wouldn't keep coming to him every time he called her.
So he picked up the cell phone he'd talked Willow into buying for him and dialed her number. Buffy had just left. He needed some of his own back.
The End.