JUST SAY NO (1/1)
 

Willow shut the book and tossed it on the table with a sigh. She looked at
the clock, scowling as she saw that it was only nine. She stood, rubbing the
back of her neck as she went into the kitchen. She looked around the room,
noticing the small touches that still had Joyce's name on them. It had been
nearly a month and a half since Buffy's Mom had died. Nearly a month since
Willow had moved in with the slayer and Dawn. A month since she had lost
Dawn. She closed her eyes momentarily as she thought of her ex-girlfriend.
Tara had left Sunnydale, left her. They were still keeping in touch, but it
wasn't the same. Willow missed her more than she had ever imagined. They had
been friends first, then lovers. In one swoop, or, in this case, one airline
flight, Willow had lost them both. She knew she shouldn't think of it as Tara
having left her. Her girlfriend had gone back home, back to the father that
had lied to her all those years. Willow understood in a way. That was just
how Tara was, always there when someone needed her. In this case, Willow just
hadn't needed her enough.
 

Willow opened her eyes, shaking her head slightly as she opened the fridge.
She grabbed the carton of orange juice and turned back to the cabinet to pour
herself a glass. She spilled a bit of juice over the side of the cup, moving
her hand when she felt the cold liquid touch her fingers. She sucked her
finger into her mouth, ignoring the tightening in her stomach. During the
week before Tara left, they had both been caught up in slayer duties,
packing, surprise and shock plus several other emotions that had kept them
apart during the time they had should have been inseparable. It had been six
weeks, six weeks two days and nearly thirteen hours Willow corrected
mentally, since someone had touched her, wanted her, tasted her. She let out
a shaky breath, pushing those thoughts from her mind. Thinking about touching
and tasting, about being tasted and touched, well, that wasn't very smart to
do when she was single. True, Buffy and Dawn were away for a couple of days,
having gone up to San Francisco for the weekend to just get away from
Sunnydale. Willow was pretty much on her own until Sunday. It was strange,
but she was now used to constant chatter and noise. Dawn and Buffy were
always talking, the television was usually on, plus the radio was usually
playing from one of the rooms upstairs. Now, it was silent. She was left
alone to miss Tara, to become completely lost in her thoughts. Unfortunately,
she was so tired of thinking that she could scream.
 

Since Tara had left, Willow had remembered every detail of their relationship
trying to figure out why Tara had left. They had seemed to happy, so perfect
together. Even in the end, they had been able to practically read each
other's minds. There had been a close friendship, their lovemaking had been
tender and sweet, they had performed spells together and studied together and
could simply sit in silence and enjoy each other. What was wrong with that?
What was so horrible about her that Tara had run back to that terrible
family? What had driven away the second person that she loved? First Oz, now
Tara. Was she jinxed? Maybe she was too nice. She could see where some people
might think that she and Tara were just too good together. They had been soul
mates. That was what people searched for forever wasn't it? That elusive
person that knew you better than you knew yourself. She sighed, realizing
that maybe that was where she went wrong. Maybe the idea was to always search
and never find it. Maybe by finding it, Tara had realized that it wasn't what
she wanted. Maybe Tara was right, Willow decided. Maybe happily ever after
wasn't what it was cut out to be. Maybe, just maybe, it was the less than
perfect relationships that people should wish for.
 

She laughed, realizing that she had spent ten minutes standing in the kitchen
thinking about something that she couldn't control, much less change. Oh boy,
Buffy and Dawn better get back soon or she might have to sign herself into
the Sunnydale Mental Hospital. Sexual frustration and loneliness were not
good companions in an empty house. She walked back into the living room,
sipping her orange juice as she tried to decide how to spend the remainder of
her evening. She reached over to set her glass down and pick up the TV Guide
when she heard a squeak. She looked up, shrieking in surprise as she saw
Spike sitting in the chair beside the window. "How the hell did you get in
here?"
 

"The door," he said with a scowl as he blew out a cloud of smoke.
 

"No smoking," she said crossly, reciting one of Buffy's cardinal rules.
 

"Sod off," he said, taking a deep drag as his eyes dared her to object.
 

"Buffy's not here," she said, tapping her foot.  "You can leave."
 

"Not here for the daft slayer," he said, his scowl deepening. "Bloody hell, a
guy slips for a few weeks and imagines himself in love with the silly bitch
and you people don't let him forget it."
 

"Weeks?" she repeated with a snort. "I thought it was more like a few months."
 

"Doesn't matter. It was a passing fancy that thankfully is gone," he said,
practically growling the words.
 

"Then why are you here? In her living room?" she asked politely though her
frown contradicted her friendly tone.
 

"Watcher asked me to come by and check on you. All worried that the poor
little witch will get into some trouble all by her lonesome," he said with a
smug tone as he watched her bristle.
 

"Check on me?" she repeated, eyes blazing. "Check on me?"
 

"Do I hear an echo?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
 

"You arrogant bastard," she muttered, glaring at him. "Just go away."
 

"That's right. I'm keeping you from sitting around in the dark and dwelling
on losing that pasty faced little shadow of yours. Oh horrors," he held his
hand to his heart and made a stricken face.
 

"You...you...you," she sputtered, caught off guard by his flippant tone.
 

"Better off without her, Red. She didn't know what to do with you. That's why
she ran away like a scared little school girl," he said, taking a drag from
his smoke as he waited for the fireworks. He had been sitting around the
crypt, bored out of his mind and itching for some fun when he had remembered
that the slayer and Dawn had gone away for the weekend, leaving the little
witch all alone. He knew from experience that he could easily get a rise from
the redhead with just a few specific words so he'd run over as soon as he'd
eaten, eager for a bit of excitement.
 

"This coming from the guy that fell for his mortal enemy? What's wrong,
Spike, did your Buffy dolly kick you out of bed?" she asked, letting her
frustration and anger at Tara's leaving bubble to the surface.
 

"You bitch," he cursed, his amusement leaving when he realized she was
fighting back.
 

Willow snorted as she saw him put the cigarette out and face her, his
nostrils flaring slightly, a nerve in his cheek twitching as his eyes
deepened to a dark blue. "What's the matter, Spike? Can't face the truth? Big
bad vampire in love with the slayer. Pretty pathetic, you know. Would have
thought you learned from Angel's mistakes."
 

"You silly little bitch," he said with a snarl.
 

"Is it some sort of trophy in vampiredom? To fuck a slayer? Do you get a
prize or something?" she asked, standing tall when he growled at her.
 

"I wouldn't think you were a good judge, seeing as you can't keep anyone in
your bed. Must be something else, making them all run so far away after being
with you," he spat, seeing her eyes and knowing he had struck home. Teach
her, standing there looking all glorious with her eyes blazing and that hair
falling around her face in such a pretty way. A fire goddess stepped from the
flames themselves.
 

"Leave," she hissed, fighting the urge to hit him.
 

"Make me," he shot back, a bit of the amusement entering his eyes.
 

She stepped forward and raised her hand to slap him, gasping when he caught
it in his and pulled her against him, his lips finding hers. She knew she
should say no, just pull away and tell him to fuck him off and get his lips
away from hers, but she couldn't say anything. She was too busy feeling.
Feeling his body against hers, the leather of his coat rubbing against her
arm, the coolness of his fingers digging into her wrist, his tongue forcing
its way into her mouth. She pushed all rational thought from her mind and
went with it, went with the desire and heat that was spreading over her body.
She was finally feeling again, after so many weeks of nothing, someone wanted
her. She opened her mouth, her free hand moving behind his head, her fingers
tangling in his blonde hair.
 

Spike felt her give, felt her tongue against his, felt her body move closer.
He knew that he should just leave her, knew that he had not intended for this
to happen, never really even thought about her before as anything other than
the slayer's little friend. The redhead witch that had that annoyingly happy
relationship. The spitfire that was now plastered against him with her hand
urging his head closer. To hell with it. He was horny, hadn't had a good shag
since Harmony had finally left him. Not that shagging her was ever all that
good, he remembered as he moved his hand down to cup Willow's ass.
 

Willow felt his hand on her butt, knowing that her last chance to refuse was
about to pass. Pull back and just say no. That's all she had to do. She knew
this was a mistake. She and Spike should not be kissing in Buffy's living
room. Should not be about to do far more than just kissing. She still loved
Tara. She knew she did. And he had those weird fucked up feelings for Buffy.
Neither of them wanted the other. She was a lesbian, for god's sake. Well,
bisexual but still, she should not be enjoying kissing Spike this much. She
was, though. She felt like she was on fire. She didn't protest when she felt
his hand move under her shirt. She didn't say a word when he pulled her shirt
over her head, his mouth leaving hers and moving across her chin, across her
cheek, down her throat. Her bra followed her shirt, leaving her half naked as
Spike's mouth licked a path down her throat and his hands worked on removing
her jeans. She wasn't idle during his movements. She was working on removing
his shirt, finally getting his coat off and just ripping his shirt open,
sending buttons flying. She didn't care, she was touching his bare chest. She
felt her jeans loosen as his mouth claimed hers again. Together, they somehow
removed the remainder of their clothing without stopping the kiss.
 

Spike moved with her, knocking the coffee table to the side and distantly
hearing shattering glass. He didn't move his mouth from hers, his hands
caressing every spare inch of flesh that he could reach. He pushed her
against the wall, groaning when he felt her warm body against his. He didn't
waste time with foreplay, her arousal so thick it surrounded them. He used
his knee to separate her legs, pushing his cock against her in a few teasing
movements, listening to her moan and feeling her wiggle closer, trying to get
him inside her. He slowly pushed the head of his cock into her, groaning at
the tightness and the warmth. He sunk into her, listening to her sounds as
she adjusted to his size. He could feel her breath against his neck, could
hear her heart racing as she tightened her cunt around him.
 

Willow chewed on her bottom lip to keep from yelling. She was in such a sweet
pain that she thought she might pass out. He was bigger than Oz, and she
hadn't had a man in over a year. She felt his hands go underneath her ass,
lifting her and giving him even more access to her. She didn't think he could
possibly get deeper, but he did. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her
fingers digging into his back as he began to move. Each thrust sent her
against the wall, the texture of the wall paper rubbing against her lower
back as he moved. There were no words spoken, no false statements of
affection or caring. This was lust, pure and simple. She was frustrated and
he was horny. She didn't even fool herself into thinking that it meant
anything other than that. She had gotten over her crush on him the previous
year, when she found Tara. So what if she had often dreamed of this moment,
albeit with a bit of roses and nice music and soft, slow lovemaking. Rough,
wild fucking against her best friend's living room wall never quite made the
fantasies. But, to hell with it. This was the now.
 

Spike bit into her shoulder as he came, listening to her cry of pain followed
by a low moan of pleasure as her head fell against him, her teeth finding
their way into his flesh. He tasted her sweet blood, the warmth reminding him
what he had been missing the past year or so. Nothing quite the same as human
blood, especially right after an orgasm. No wine could ever capture the
intoxicating taste. He kept himself sheathed inside her, their juices mixing
together and dripping down his thighs. He removed his fangs, nuzzling the
wound as he heard himself purring. He carried her towards the couch, pushing
her back as he stayed inside her. He laid with her, feeling his cock harden
as she moved against him. He smiled, moving swiftly to capture her lips.
 

Willow slowly opened her eyes, groaning as she felt a pain between her legs
that went all the way up to her neck. She covered a yawn, trying to figure
out what happened. Her eyes flew open suddenly as it all came back to her.
Spike. Naked Spike. Her and Spike against the wall. On the couch. On the
floor. In her bed. Her face turned red as every detail vividly came back to
her. She sat up, the sheet falling from her bare breasts as she looked around
wildly. She was in her room, in her bed. Alone. She glanced down, seeing the
bite marks on her flesh, saw the bruises already forming on her arms and
breasts. It hadn't been a dream. She had had sex with Spike. What the hell
had she been thinking? No, that was the problem. She hadn't been thinking.
She'd stupidly acted based on her emotions. She ran a hand over her face and
through her hair, her eyes noticing something on the pillow beside her. She
picked up the paper, reading the words with disbelief.

"Thanks for the fuck. Until next time...."
 

She crumbled up the note in anger, knowing that he had thought it meant
nothing more than that. Just another random fuck. Who was she kidding? That's
all it had been. She dropped her hand before she threw the note on the floor,
silent tears falling down her cheeks as she fell back against her pillow. Her
eyes ran over the words again, staying on the words next time. If he thought
she would make such a stupid mistake again, he had another think coming. He
had caught her in a weak moment. Yeah, that's why she had had sex with him.
She was lonely and unhappy and frustrated and he'd been there, with those
beautiful blue eyes and those cheekbones and those lips and those wonderful
hands. She felt her pulse begin to race as she shook her head, pushing those
memories away. Next time, he wrote. Fuck him. Next time, she'd just say no.
 

************THE END*************

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