GOING ONCE (14/?)
 

Willow entered her house, her conversation with Buffy and Anya still fresh in
her mind. She still couldn't believe both of her friends had urged her into
asking Spike to move in. It seemed completely unreal. She had almost asked if
they had somehow had their bodies invaded but figured that wouldn't go over
very well. She entered her living room, surprised to see that things had been
cleaned up. She put her purse and the packet down, hearing something in the
kitchen. She sighed, wondering what mischief Spike had gotten into while she
had been gone. At least he had tidied up the living room. When she entered
the kitchen, she froze, not sure what to say.
 

"Eh, luv, you're home early," Spike said with a smile before he went back to
stirring. "Did you enjoy your lunch with the girls?"
 

"Spike?" she asked, her eyes moving over his form. Yep, it was still her
Spike, except instead of a leater coat he was wearing an apron. "Why are you
wearing an apron?"
 

He looked at her and said patiently, "The soup might splash and I didn't want
to muss my new shirt."
 

"OK. I now know I must be trapped inside some weird fucked up dream," she
said, laughing hysterically. "First Buffy and Anya, now you. What the hell is
this, Invasion of the Body Snatchers?"
 

"Let me just put this on to simmer and then you can explain that comment," he
said, eyes narrowing slightly before he went back to his soup. Satisfied that
it was going to be fine for a few minutes, he faced her again. "Now me what?"
 

"Spike, you're wearing an apron and cooking soup. Do you not find something
oddly strange about that?" she asked.
 

He shrugged, "What is your hang up with the apron? I can take it off."
 

"No, leave it on," she said, starting to laugh. "Hell, I never imagined
telling you that after you'd offered to disrobe."
 

He smiled slightly, studying her, "Did you have a tough day at school?"
 

She nodded, wondering what was happening to her mind. "I had a surprise test
and a paper due. Then Buffy and Anya were bugging me at lunch."
 

"Poor pet," he clucked his tongue as he moved behind her. His hands went to
her shoulders as he began to slowly massage away some of the tension.
 

"Hmm....that feels good," she whimpered, thanking her mind for its vivid
dream. She could smell him, it was so real.
 

"I was going to do laundry but figured you wouldn't want me messing with your
frillies so I left it," he said, fighting his bodies reaction to her whimpers
and moans.
 

"You can mess with my frillies anytime you want, Spike," she moaned, moving
her head to give him better access.
 

"Did you and the girls happen to have anything to drink at lunch?" he asked,
puzzled by her behavior. She was outright flirting, something that Willow
never did. He liked it, but it just seemed strange.
 

"I had three sodas. You know, they tasted real for a dream," she remarked,
moving to lay her head on the table as his hands began to move from her
shoulders down her back.
 

"A dream?" he said in a measuring tone, not sure what she was talking about.
 

"Uh huh," she said. "Except, you're wearing clothes. In most of the dreams,
you're not. Of course, you usually don't cook either so....who knows?"
 

He started to laugh, "You think you're dreaming?"
 

She nodded, "Yep. Only logical explanation. I mean, you're cooking."
 

"I told you last night that I'd take care of dinner," he reminded,
understanding suddenly why she was acting so dopey. Only Willow would explain
strange behavior by thinking she was caught up in a dream. What was he going
to do with her? Vivid images filled his mind suddenly, causing him to groan.
 

"That means that you order pizza," she said, aware of her body's response to
his hands on it. Her nipples were hardened pebbles pushing against her shirt.
She could feel her panties begining to get wet and both of them were still
fully dressed. Well, if this was like most of her dreams about Spike, they
wouldn't be for much longer.
 

"It could also mean that I could make soup, one of the few things that I
actually can cook," he said softly, the scent of her arousal impossible to
ignore.
 

"Smells good," she mumbled, wondering why the hell her dream Spike was
talking about damn soup instead of shagging her like crazy.
 

"Thanks," he smiled, suddenly losing the smile. "Bloody hell, it's starting
to burn!"
 

Willow sat up when she heard him exclaim, watching as he pulled the pot of
soup off the burner, cursing in a way that was typical Spike. Her face lost
all its color as she reached over and pinched her arm. "Fuck!" She rubbed the
mark, looking back up into amused blue eyes that were watching her
expectantly. "This...this isn't a dream, is it?"
 

"What gave it away?" he asked, glancing down, "Too many clothes was it?"
 

"Oh. My. God," she said slowly, her face turning bright red as she realized
some of things she had mumbled.
 

"Hungry, luv?" he asked, deciding to ignore her comments for the time being.
He was in no position yet to take advantage of them so it would be best to
let them go, for now.
 

"No," she squeaked, looking at her lap as she avoided his eyes. She had told
him that he could play with her frillies for christ sake and he wanted to
feed her soup. She had never been so mortified.
 

Spike ignored her words, knowing that she must be hungry. He ladled some soup
into a bowl and set it in front of her, setting out to get her a spoon and
everything else she needed. He paused at the cabinet, looking over to find
her watching him with a confused look. "Pet?"
 

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking from the soup and back to him.
Suddenly, it made sense. She sighed, "What do you want?"
 

"Huh?" he asked, putitng ice in a glass for her and finding her a soda.
 

"This. Dinner and everything. You must want something. What is it?" she
asked, knowing there was no way he would have gone to such obvious trouble
for her.
 

"Is that what you think?" he finally asked after a moment of silence. "That I
must want something because I was nice? Why do I bother?"
 

"Then, why?" she asked, clearly confused.
 

"Does there have to be a reason?" he demanded, scowling as his good mood was
ruined by her demanding questions. What could he tell her? That he hoped to
so impress her with his culinary abilities that she would decide that she
wanted to keep him around? That he hoped to overwhelm her with his charm and
wit because he liked her. Might even love her. Not bloody likely. No siree.
Not this Spike. No confessing of gooey human emotions for that vampire.
 

"There's always a reason," she said, studying him with curious eyes.
 

"No, there isn't," he shot back, ripping the apron off and tossing it to the
ground. "Bugger this. I need some air."
 

"Spike, don't," she said softly, looking at the table. He'd even remembered
to give her the crackers she liked the best. It just didn't make sense.
Deciding to just go with it and not question anymore, she said, "I hate to
eat alone."
 

"No more silly girly questions?" he asked skeptically.
 

"Promise," she said, crossing her fingers over her heart.
 

He waited a few minutes to stress to her just how irritated he was before the
scowl left his face and he smiled, "Taste the soup, luv. It's a little recipe
I picked up nearly a hundred years ago in Italy."
 

She smiled, relieved when he sat down and began to tell her about the latest
developments on his soaps and the daytime talk show circuit. She tasted the
soup, pleasantly surprised to find that it was delicious. She saw him smile
as she ate, realizing that she would probably never understand Spike and, in
a way, she was thankful for that.
 

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