WORDS MEAN NOTHING (1/1)
 

Spike felt a bit weird as he entered the slayer's house. Knowing that she was
aware of his relationship with Willow made sneaking in seem a bit odd. Of
course, it wasn't really sneaking anymore. She knew and seemed to approve for
some ungodly reason that would probably only make sense to her silly little
mind. How could she profess to be Willow's best friend and not care that she
was sleeping with a monster such as himself? If it had been him, he'd have
staked first and never gotten around to asking questions. Guess it was a good
thing, then, that he wasn't the slayer. Maybe it was her ability to think
before reacting that had kept her alive so long. Not that he would ever admit
to anyone that he thought she was capable of thought. Being capable and
practicing were too different things entirely. The slayer had the brains, she
just rarely used them. When she did, it was usually to help her friends. One
of her few good traits, he realized. Her loyalty and love for her friends.
Dumb bitch would do anything for any of them. Even if she acted a bit selfish
at times, he could see it in her. He hated almost respecting a slayer.
 

He took the stairs slowly, not sure why he was hesitating. He wanted nothing
more than find Willow and sink deep inside her warmth, to hold her as she
slept. Yet, he was almost frightened to see her. Last night had been too
close. He'd almost blown it, almost admitted that he had feelings for her.
Feelings that confused yet pleased him. She'd wanted to talk. Didn't she know
that words mean nothing? Action spoke louder than words. He could spend hours
and hours talking without actually saying anything. But, with one touch of
his hand on her body, she'd hear so very much if she listened. The slayer
seemed to think that he loved Willow. How she could know something that he
was still scared to admit to himself he failed to understand. He almost
wished he had asked her if she could provide some insight into Willow for
him. Did the redhead love him? Hell, did she even like him? Had she wanted
them to talk so she could break it off? Did she no longer want him?
 

He knew that he could voice these questions. And she'd answer. String a lot
of fancy words together to tell him what she wanted to say, but that wouldn't
mean anything. No, the only way he could get his answers would be to look
into her eyes, to feel her touch against his flesh, to listen to the sounds
that she made when she had lost all control. Those would be his true answers.
She could not hide the truth from him. He knew how to listen to her body and
eyes with nary a word being spoken. The problem: was he ready to know the
truth? What if he realized that his touch disgusted her, that she hated the
sight of him, that she only enjoyed the sex and nothing else. He had never
been one to worry about such things, having spent most of his years on Earth
being second best and never having the love that he had always foolishly
craved. With Willow, though, it was different. He *needed* for her to want
him, to need him as much as he needed her, to love him.
 

He was finally at the landing. He could already smell the sweet scent of
vanilla and peaches and Willow. She was using new shampoo, peaches instead of
a flowery blend of fruit smells. He groaned softly as he hardened just from
smelling her scent. He moved towards her door, casting a suspicious glance at
the slayer's door, seeing it was closed. He concentrated a moment, realizing
that the slayer wasn't yet home. He could hear soft snores coming from Dawn's
room, giving no doubts that the youngest Summers was asleep. He leaned his
head against Willow's door, knowing that she was awake. He closed his eyes,
gathering his thoughts before he went inside. He was planning on not giving
her a chance to speak. If she was planning on calling their affair off, he
wanted one last time fresh in his memory. Damn if he didn't feel pathetic at
times. Straightening up, he opened the door. He stepped inside, shutting the
door behind him.
 

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

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