Pairing: Willow/Spike
Summary: Spike ponders the past and plans for the future. Spike POV.
Previous Parts Can Be Found Here:
http://magical-worlds.us/gabrielle/viewstory.php?sid=28
Feedback: Please!
Distribution: Soulmates, UCSL, Wacky Witch, Musings, all the usual suspects. If you have any previous parts of this fic, you may have this story as well. If not, 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: Happy Birthday to yammerer_willow! And I would like to dedicate this fic to everyone who still remembers it, cares about it, and has waited so patiently for the next installment!
Author's Note Two: My wonderful betas are all very busy right now. So I am posting this un-beta'ed. I felt that it had been far too long since I had updated this and wanted to get it posted before everyone forgets this fic entirely!
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Holding his doll, Spike listened as she fell into a deep and peaceful slumber. He was even more content now than he had been after they made love. His pretty doll was here, in his arms, and he had never felt closer to anyone in all of his unlife.
His mind drifted back to the century and more that he had spent with Drusilla. He had treated his beautiful Sire like a queen, catered to her every whim, and given her everything he had to give. And how had she repaid him? By calling out Angelus' name when they made love. By constantly reminding him that he would never be as cruel and vicious as her Sire was. By abandoning him when he was injured even after he had cared for her so devotedly when the mob in Prague nearly killed her. And finally, by abandoning him for a Chaos demon.
Then there was Angelus, he had loved his Grand-Sire as much as he had loved his Dark Goddess. Perhaps even more, if he were truly honest with himself. He had striven so hard to please him in every way. By being a merciless killer. By excelling in torture to the point where he earned a fearsome nickname for his favorite instrument of pain and death. And by doing everything for Angelus in bed that the dark vampire wanted. But in the end, just as it had been with Drusilla, all of Spike's efforts were for naught. Angelus abandoned both him and Drusilla when he'd been cursed with the soul. And when he'd lost the soul again at long last, he wanted nothing to do with Spike. He alternately taunted and ignored the blond vampire who he had once held even dearer than his own childe, Drusilla, never once taking him to his bed or trying to help him heal. It was no wonder Spike had happily sent the bastard to Hell. But deep inside, Angelus' rejection still hurt. And Spike couldn't help but wish that things were different between them.
Now, however, Spike had Willow. His precious, beautiful, caring, loyal Willow. The perfect doll for him to take care of and treasure. Who would never put him down or abandon him. Who would never be cruel or unfaithful or uncaring. Who would stay with him and love him always.
<i>Did</i> she love him? Spike wondered about that. But he reasoned that if she didn't, she wouldn't have given herself to him the way she had. And she wouldn't be sleeping so contentedly in his arms, her soft snores making him smile in spite of himself. He had never seen her so peaceful before. She was more beautiful than ever.
If he still wrote poetry, he could fill untold pages with odes to her loveliness. The way her hair fell across her cheek. The length of her eyelashes. The softness of her porcelain skin. Spike was captivated by it all. Willow made him feel almost like William again, though he wasn't ready to share that with her. Maybe in the future, when their relationship was on a surer footing, he would tell Willow about who he used to be. Perhaps he would even write again.
But for now, he needed to maintain his authority. It wouldn't do for his doll to think he was soft or weak. His being in complete control had worked out so far, and he didn't want his girl to think that things were going to change in that regard. He wanted her to continue to depend on him for everything. And to know that he was more than capable of taking care of her in every way.
Thinking on that subject, Spike looked around their spartan living quarters and was appalled. He needed to cut down on his drinking. Whatever possessed him to think that this was a fit environment for his pretty doll? It looked worse now than it had when he had pondered this very subject earlier. It was dingy and bare and not at all cozy or comfortable. Willow <i>must</i> love him if she could overlook such drab and horrible surroundings.
Well, Spike was certainly going to make some changes. He had money stashed away. It was time to spend it. Sure, when he was on his own, he preferred to live by his wits and steal rather than purchase. But he had a doll to protect and look after now. So he needed to think of her needs and comforts rather than his own desire to make a sport of things.
First thing after sundown, he was going to look into finding a much nicer home. Earlier, he had thought about sprucing up their current dwelling. But now, as he took in the peeling paint and cracked ceiling, he saw clearly that the only thing to do was move his beautiful girl into a pretty new house, one that afforded her the proper amenities for a fragile, human girl to be happy.
He knew of a few realtors who could facilitate the purchase of a home without the usual annoying obstacles and delays and who also understood buyers with 'special needs'. He'd need furniture and appliances and such as well.and books. He remembered from the contents of his doll's backpack that she was a bright little thing who obviously loved books and learning. She would be delighted, he was sure, with something to read. He couldn't wait to make his plan a reality.
He could picture Willow's face when he showed her her new home for the first time. She would be so grateful and her smile would light up her features. He could almost feel her lips against his as she kissed him while he carried her over the threshold, just like a bride.his bride. And maybe then she would say the words he so longed to hear:
"I love you, Spike."