Pairing: W/S
Rating: Pg-13
Distribution: Red’s Soulmates, my site Fatal Mistakes (www.angelfire.com/vamp/fatalmistakes); anyone want, just ask.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, not even Spike, but a girl can wish.
Spoilers: Season 6, after Willow’s overdose on magic and Tara leaves her.
Summary: Willow feels lost and finds comfort from an unexpected source.
Author’s Notes: Spike and Buffy never hooked up, because just thinking about it gives me nightmares. He still has the chip of course. The song is by Bob Dylan called “Need a Woman” and can be found on his album Bootleg Series, Vols. 1-3: Rare & Unreleased, 1961-1991.
Feedback: Yes, please. See, I’m asking nicely…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She was laughing. That surprised the redhead, she hadn’t laughed in weeks. But here was Spike, seated on her couch, telling her ridiculous stories about his past, and she couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped. Her actions shocked her and her companion, but the bleach blonde only smiled at her and continued on with his tale.
It had been three weeks since Spike had found her curled up on her bed, looking pathetic and withdrawn. He had become her constant companion, rarely leaving her house unless it was to patrol like he was ordered to, or to fetch some blood for himself. Willow always knew the blonde had the potential for an amazing amount of caring and attentiveness, but she never envisioned being witness to it, let alone the recipient. But he had been there for her, even in her more gross moments. He held her hair back when the severe pains in her stomach caused her to vomit; he cooled her fevered flesh by patting her forehead down with a damp rag, or even simply wrapping himself around her and allowing his lack of body temperature to do the work. He would soothe her to sleep when she woke from nightmares, just petting her hair and cooing soft words to her as she relaxed.
“You have a nice laugh, pet. Haven’t heard that in awhile,” he said, leaning back as he lounged on her sofa. He watched the witch carefully out of the corner of his eye as he searched his duster pockets for a cigarette. With a slight grin of triumph he pulled one from its casing and lit it, breathing in the comforting smoke.
“Haven’t had a reason to laugh in awhile,” she murmured, seated comfortably next to him. She began to twiddle her thumbs, an unconscious gesture on her part. She hated sitting still; she always needed to be doing something. With a sigh, Spike reached out with his right hand, grabbing her left and holding it in his grasp. Her constant fidgeting was the one thing about her that bugged him. “Sorry,” she said with a sheepish half-smile. “Just can’t help it.”
“We have got to break you of that habit,” he commented, looking to her with a playful smirk.
“What? The squirming? I’m trying,” she replied with a slight frown.
“No, the constant apologizing,” he clarified. “You don’t need to be sorry about every bloody thing in the world, Red.”
“I’ve got plenty to be sorry for,” she argued.
“Oh please,” he scoffed, waving his left hand in dismissal. “You aren’t as bad as you think you are, or they think you are. You didn’t kill anyone, yeah, you broke Bit’s arm, but it’ll heal. You got in over your head, it happens. But you’re doing better now. With my help of course. I am your sodding knight in tarnished armor, aren’t I now?” he teased.
“Oh yes, whatever would I do without you?” she grinned.
“Sarcasm, I approve,” he snorted before resting his arm around her shoulders. He glanced across the room at the clock and cocked his head to the side in contemplation. “It’s still early; do you want to go to the Bronze?”
“You hate the Bronze,” she frowned.
“Eh, it’s not my favorite scene, but I thought you might want some fresh air,” he shrugged.
“No, really, I’m fine with just staying in,” she replied, glancing nervously out the picture window in and into the night.
“You can’t hide forever, love,” Spike warned gently. His hand rubbed calming circles on her back.
“I’m not hiding,” she denied. “But in here, it’s safe. Out there, it’s dangerous. There’s Rack, and Tara, and Buffy, and Xander…”
“You think the slayer, the moron, and twitchy are dangerous?”
“They’re mad at me,” she told him tonelessly. “If I see them, they’ll start yelling and criticizing and I’ll get upset. When I’m upset, I lose control. I can’t lose control, not again. I won’t let myself.”
“You don’t have to rest the weight of the entire world on your shoulders, pet. You won’t lose control because you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I wouldn’t let it happen,” he assured her, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re not in this by yourself, you know. I made a promise to you, to help you, and I intend to keep it. You ever get scared of falling; just know that I’ll be there to catch you.”
Willow didn’t know what to say to his declaration. It touched her, more than she would like to admit. In a time in her life when she had lost the support of her friends, she needed a shoulder to lean on, someone to confide in. She never expected Spike to be that person, hell, he wasn’t even a person, but he had become her rock. It was most surprising.
“Thank you,” she whispered gratefully, fighting the tears that gathered in her eyes. “But can we stay in tonight? Maybe we could try venturing into the outside world tomorrow?”
“Sounds like a plan,” he grinned with a decisive nod. They remained side by side on her couch, each lost in their own thoughts as they gazed sightlessly out the front window.
Spike felt the redhead scoot closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he pulled her to him. He allowed a faint smile tease his lips as he stared down at the top of her head. These past few weeks had been hard on her.
The first couple of days, he hadn’t left her house at all. She had some spare packets of blood in her fridge. She told him it became a habit of hers ever since she met Angel to have some extra blood lying around, just in case. Those early days, she was miserable, shaking like a leaf, sweating uncontrollably just from the sheer effort it took to fight her addiction. She couldn’t keep anything down and continued to loose much needed weight. But he had nursed her to a stable condition. After all, taking care of sickly women was kind of his thing. He had enough practice in that department.
After the first four days, she was able to maintain a healthy diet, and thankfully she was getting some color back. She was beginning to fill out once more, her skin no longer stretched over her bones. She wasn’t totally recovered yet, there were moments where the urge to perform a spell would become overwhelming, but he would simply gather her in his lap and whisper reassurances into her ear until it passed, which it always did.
It had taken some, make that a lot, of convincing of his part, but she had begun performing a cleansing meditation every morning. She wasn’t really using magic and it wasn’t dangerous, but he insisted it was something she needed to do. It got her over her fear of anything mystical or spiritual related, and it started the day on a positive note. He watched her carefully every morning, since she asked him to, and knew she was fine.
She didn’t understand everything yet. Magic wasn’t something she could give up entirely. Her complete lack of use of it would only make things worse. She didn’t have to perform any spells, major or minor, but even little things, like the cleansing meditation, would help. He was leery to tell her that magic would always be a part of her life; she was so nervous and jittery now. But he swore he would tell her soon, when he was sure she could handle his news.
In the meantime, he was content to be there for her. She needed a friend, a confidant, and while he wasn’t familiar with playing those roles, especially to a human, he wanted to. It was slightly disconcerting, this need he felt to help her, to just hold her and shelter her from the cruel world. He wanted to protect her. That was a strange feeling; he wasn’t accustomed to playing the dashing hero. He was more the dastardly cunning, yet extremely handsome, villain. It suited him, at least before he got stuck with that blasted chip.
But still, he reluctantly had to admit he liked the role he played in the little redhead’s life. She wanted him there, needed him, and he was more than happy to do as she wanted. Lord knows she needed a friend now. He never liked the lot she chose to spend her time with. The slayer was self-centered and had a major superiority complex, Xapper was just a complete and utter moron, no two ways around that, and the watcher was a decent chap, but a bit too judgmental in his esteemed opinion. Demon girl, she was a bit of alright, and Bit was nice enough, but Tara was a hypocrite. She could use all the bloody magic she wanted, but the minute Red became more talented than she at the black arts, she turned tail and ran. What did they expect to happen, leaving the chit by her lonesome with no one to turn to? They each had an equal piece of responsibility in her downfall, himself included.
They should have been there for her. But they hadn’t paid her one visit. There were no concerned phone calls to check on her, or even to say hello. The few times he met up with the rest of the Scoobies, for patrol and the like, it was like a rule, Willow was not to be talked about. It was almost as if they pretended she didn’t exist. No one mentioned her disappearance from the slayer’s home, no one wondered how she was doing, no one even spoke her name. It made him sick.
He didn’t complain though. He had her to himself now; he was the one who made her smile, who made her laugh. She turned to him for comfort. She called out his name when she felt scared; she calmed herself in his embrace. He had always been a selfish demon, and this was no exception. He wanted her to be happy, and the support of her friends would make her happy. But he was content to be the only one in her life right now. She was happiest when he was around, and that was good enough for him.
He wasn’t sure if he loved her, not yet at least, but he was quickly heading in that direction. She was everything he wanted in a woman. She was strong, even when she was physically weak, she was bloody brilliant, no denying that, and in typical male fashion, he had to admit, she was gorgeous.
It's been
raining in the trenches all day long, dripping down to my clothes,
My patience is
wearing thin, got a fire inside my nose.
Searching for the
truth the way god designed it,
The truth is I
might drown before I find it.
Well I need a woman,
yes I do
Need a woman, yes
I do.
Someone who can
see me as I am,
Somebody who just
don't give a damn.
And I want you
to be that woman every night,
Be that woman.
She wasn’t ready to know the extent of his feelings. She was still so fragile, in need of more healing. But he was pretty sure that if she looked hard enough, his emotions were lying bare on his sleeve.
The clock chimed, signaling the coming of the eleven o’clock hour. His eyes focused once more on the redhead in his arms and smiled when she stirred at the momentary noise before burrowing further into his shoulder. She was half asleep, hovering on the edge of peaceful oblivion, and he knew she needed her rest. She was sleeping more, thankfully not disturbed by nightmares or sudden fevers.
Shifting her body against his, he pulled her across his lap, sliding one arm under her knees, the other on her back as he stood, lifting her carefully. She mumbled something he couldn’t make out and laid her head in the crook of his neck.
I've had my eyes
on you baby for about five long years,
You probably don't
know me at all, but I have seen your laughter and tears.
Now you don't frighten
me, my heart is jumping
And you look like
it wouldn't hurt you none to have a man who could give ya something.
Well I need a woman,
oh don't I
Need a woman, bring
it home safe at last.
Seen you turn the
corner, seen your boot heels spark,
Seen you in the
daylight, and watched you in the dark.
And I want you
to be that woman, all right
Be that woman every
night.
Spike gently placed her in the armchair he had brought into her room a couple weeks earlier. He moved to turn the bed down, stripping off the comforter and the blankets, leaving it only in sheets. Willow tended to get hot during the night and he wanted to make her as comfortable as possible. When he was finally satisfied, he picked up the girl was more, ridding her of her shoes, pants, and shirt, dressing her in her loose pajama pants and a tank top. He was used to dressing her by now; she had needed him to do it when she was dangerously weak. It became almost like a routine. She would fall asleep on the couch or in his arms and he would carry her to her room, dress her more comfortably, and lay her down. He thought she would have been embarrassed at the idea of him seeing her naked, but it didn’t bother. The least of her problems he supposed.
He grinned when she instinctively stretched an arm out, beckoning him to join her. He sighed; it was too early for him to fall asleep. But she always seemed more relaxed with him there, always slept more soundly wrapped around him. Lying in bed restless for a few hours was a small sacrifice.
Discarding his duster and black t-shirt, he stretched. He glanced at the curtains covering her French doors, making sure they were securely closed. No use in traumatizing the girl, having her wake up to a pile of dust. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down before kicking them aside. He was clothed only in black silk boxers. He never used to wear them, but when it became apparent that he would be sharing a bed with Willow, in the most platonic sense, he knew he should wear something, so boxers it is.
He slipped into bed, draping the sheet over his torso lazily and gently pulling the redhead into his arms. Her head rested on his chest, her steady, slow breaths tickling him slightly. His fingers ran through her hair as he inhaled the scent of her. Even now, without doing any spells in weeks, the magic just poured off her. She radiated power and it intoxicated him. He could drown in her scent.
Well, if you believe
in something long enough you just naturally come to think it's true.
There ain't no
wall you can't cross over, ain't no fire you can't walk through.
Well, believing
is all right, just don't let the wrong people know what it's all about.
They might put
the evil eye on you; use their hidden powers to try to turn you out.
Well I need a woman,
just to be my queen.
Need a woman, know
what I mean?
She was better, almost back to her old self. But she still needed something. Something she was missing desperately. She needed the love of her friends. So Spike was prepared to do something he had no desire to do. Because he cared for this woman, because he might even love her, he would play peacemaker. He would bring Willow her friends. Just to make her smile. Because more than anything, he wanted her happy.
He questioned his judgment, he honestly wasn’t sure if it was smart to bring Buffy and Xander back into Willow’s life. There was no way he could anticipate their reactions to seeing the redhead. If they had any decency, they would realize their mistakes in ignoring her pain and be there for her. But he was afraid their opinions of their best friend hadn’t changed. But she needed their love, so he was willing to push aside his worries, for her. He just hoped it all worked out for the best.
He wanted her happy, but even more so, he never wanted to see her cry.
The End