Pairing: S/W, mention of W/T
Rating: pg 13
Spoilers: Up to Season 6, but no Spuffy because that's just majorly icky.
Summary: Willow misses Tara and needs someone to take her mind off her problems.
Distribution: Red's Soulmates, anyone want, just ask.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, don't sue, I have no money to give you anyways.
Author's Notes: As I said before, no Spuffy, that stuff gives me nightmares. Willow and Tara aren't together because Tara is worried about how much magic she uses. Will has been to Rack's once but isn't horribly addicted just yet. She's been going to Spike for comfort. And in the meantime, Spike's fallen for her. The song is called "Shiver" (duh) and it's by Maroon 5, off their album "Songs about Jane" which is amazing and you should run out and buy it if you don't have it already!
Feedback: I live for it!!
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You
build me up
You
knock me down
Provoke
a smile
And
make me frown
You
are the queen of runaround
You
know it's true
He glanced to his right, watching silently as she slipped her blouse over head and smoothed the wrinkled fabric awkwardly. She had her back to him, a familiar sight, as she went through her usual motions. Bare feet padded on the dusty floor of his crypt as she crossed the room to retrieve the shoes that had been discarded hastily earlier that evening. She sat gingerly on the old, slightly torn upholstered chair that sat to the left of the door just in front of a television set that only worked when the mood struck it. Slipping on her canvas tennis shoes, she never looked up once, but could feel the heavy weight of his stare as much as she tried to ignore it.
She heard a shuffling, a rustling of cloth against stone. He raised himself up on his elbows, leaning back to watch her more easily. The worn material he used as a sheet fell from its spot against his chest, settling about his waist. She stood, red hair gleaming in the low light given off by a multitude of candles scattered about, and fixed her slightly skewed skirt. Running slim, dainty fingers through her tousled hair which fell in waves around her face and down her back, she finally gave into the urge to look up.
Icy blue eyes met green, both filled with emotion neither were willing to speak of. She held his gaze, unable or unwilling to look away. She could see the pain in those depths, confusion and hurt that she had put there. He saw the sadness, the uncertainty in her forest green eyes that never seemed to leave her. He tried so hard to make her forget her troubles, even if only for a few moments, but never seemed to succeed; not completely. He moved slowly, sitting up so that his legs dangled precariously off the side of the stone slab he used as a bed.
That movement seemed to wake her from her stupor. Blinking furiously, she shook her head as if to rid herself of those thoughts that had been filling her head. Thoughts of him, about them and no one else, but she could not dwell on such fantasies. It would be a betrayal, to the one she loved, to those who loved her.
Grabbing her purse which was propped up by the door, she quickened her pace, needing to be gone, to be anywhere but here with him. She was focused on her steps, ignoring everything else, even the sounds of bare feet landing on the floor, of footsteps making their way toward her.
His hand on her arm brought her up short. She turned slowly on her heel, cautious if not a bit wary. One glance at him caused her face to redden embarrassedly and she quickly looked away. In his haste to stop her speedy exit he hadn't bothered to dress and didn't think to cover himself with a sheet when he crossed the room. He was unashamedly naked, and while it made her distinctly uncomfortable, it didn't seem to bother him. It wasn't like he had anything to be ashamed of. He looked good and he knew it.
Fingertips brushed against her cheek, gently turning her face back to his. Her eyes never strayed from his face, studiously focusing on the scar above his eye. His lips curled into a reluctant smirk at her discomfort. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip and she surprised even herself when she lightly kissed it, an impulsive action that she questioned even as she did it.
You
chew me up
And
spit me out
Enjoy
the taste
I
leave in your mouth
You
look at me
I
look at you
Neither
of us know what to do
"You don't have to leave," he murmured, his accent sounding heavier, thicker. "It's still early."
"I need to go," she said resignedly. Truthfully, she had nowhere to be, she wasn't expected anywhere. Ever since her break up with Tara, her friends had been giving her space. Space she never asked for and didn't want. Sure, she needed time to deal, but grieving didn't have to be a solitary act. She didn't need space. She needed a shoulder to lean on, for someone to lend an ear. She needed comfort. They gave her none of that, so she found someone who would. He was the only one who hadn't pushed away, hadn't told her she was too dependent, who wasn't scared of her power.
"They aren't waiting for you," he whispered, his voice soft, but his words cut like a knife. "They aren't wondering where you are, who you're with. They are too wrapped up in themselves to even think about you."
"She might-"
"She isn't there," he interrupted her, his tone more forceful as his hand moved up her arm, from her elbow to her shoulder and back down. "You haven't seen her in a week. She's not looking for you. She hasn't called you. She isn't waiting at home for you to walk through the door."
"Stop it," she demanded, her voice lacking any real feeling.
"You don't want to be there," he plodded on, "You don't want to be where you aren't welcome, where you aren't wanted." Both his hands were gently rubbing her arms now as she relaxed under his touch, her eyes now meeting his. "But you're wanted here, pet."
For a moment, one brief point in time, he thought he had gotten through to her. He thought he had made her see. Her friends may not care what she did or who she was with, but he did. He needed her. He couldn't explain their connection, what called her to him and vice versa, but it was a feeling he had no desire to be rid of. It caused him both great pain and agonizing ecstasy.
"I shouldn't be here."
There
may not
Be
another way to your heart
So
I guess I'd better find a new way in
I
shiver when I hear your name
Think
about you but it's not the same
I
won't be satisfied until I'm under your skin
An angry growl tore through his chest and he pushed her away from him, wincing a bit at the slight zap he had received from the chip in his head. Willow stumbled but caught herself, palm pressing against the wall of his crypt to keep her balance.
"Go."
She frowned, biting her lip as she took a hesitant step toward him. He wasn't looking at her now, eyes staring at some spot on the floor to his right. She extended her hand, barely brushing his bare shoulder before he pulled away, taking a big step backward.
"Spike, I-" she tried to make him understand.
"You shouldn't be here, right?" he asked mockingly, throwing her own words back in her face. "You shouldn't be here with me? So go. That's what you were trying to say, that's what you meant. So get out. But don't come to me when you get an itch that needs scratching."
She turned toward the door again, surprised and a little hurt by his anger although she knew he had every reason to be resentful of her.
"You don't understand," she murmured, tentatively turning back toward him. He was watching her again, eyes tinged with gold, head bent and shoulders slumped. "I.I don't mean to hurt you. I hate that I'm hurting you. It's just.I need."
"That's just it, isn't it?" he snorted dejectedly. "You don't know. You don't know what you need, what you want. The witch leaves you and your bloody world goes all topsy turvy. You feel lost. Well, hate to break it to you love, but you aren't the first person this has happened to. They don't call me love's bitch for nothing."
"I." she stammered; eyes falling to the floor as tears pooled in them. "I need.I need you. You give me what they can't. You're here and you care and no one else does."
"You need what they won't give you," he agreed softly. "But you don't need me. Not like I bloody well need you."
"Yes," she argued with a fervent shake of her head, red hair flying about. "Yes I do."
Immobilized
by the thought of you
Paralyzed
by the sight of you
Hypnotized
by the words you say
Not
true but I believe anyway
"Do you think about me every sodding minute of the day?" he countered, voice strained. He ran a frustrated hand through his short, cropped bleached blonde locks. "Do you dream of me?"
An errant tear streamed down her pale cheek as she bowed her head. She gave no reply, but her silence, her inability to look him in the eye was all the answer he needed. His jaw clenched painfully, the tic in his cheek visible and deepening by the second. His fists were closed tightly at his sides and he closed his eyes to shut out the pain.
"You don't," he murmured, his throat closing up. "You can't, because you're still not over her. And you won't let yourself move on. You won't let yourself realize what you two had is over and it's not coming back. You won't let yourself see that I'm right here. That I'm practically on my bloody knees, wishing you'd really look at me. That you'd really see that I'm here, that I can make you happy. And I can, you know. I can make you happier than she ever could. I'm not afraid of your darkness, of your power. To me you're not just some sidekick, hiding in the Slayer's shadow. But that's not good enough for you. You're used to being passed over, being ignored and looked down upon. And even if worshipped the sodding ground you walked on, you still wouldn't notice me."
She let out a shuddering breath and he moved closer to her, running his hand through her hair in a familiar gesture and she couldn't help but lean into his touch. "You come to me because I'm convenient, because I understand how much you hurt. But you don't understand how much I hurt."
He kissed her, a gentle brush of lips, but it was so much more intimate than anything they had ever done before. His forehead rested against hers and he stared deeply into her shining green eyes for the longest moment. Eventually his eyelids drifted shut and his thumb brushed away a stray tear from her cheek.
"You were right," he sighed, his voice tight and pained. "You shouldn't be here. This isn't where you want to be. I'm not who you want to be with."
She choked back a sob as he pulled away, kissing her forehead lovingly before finally stepping away from her completely, looking down at her sorrowfully.
"But," he considered, holding her gaze intently, "when you get your life together, and if you still want me.I'll be here."
He didn't wait for her to leave, instead turning his back to her, walking somberly past the sheet covered tomb where they had spent the night together toward the ladder behind it. He didn't bother climbing down the steps, just letting himself fall through the hole in the floor, trusting his agility to land on his feet. He grabbed a warm blanket which surrounded him with a sorry imitation of body heat as he climbed into bed, closing his eyes resignedly.
She watched him leave, unable to find the words to stop him as he walked away. With one final glance at the decrepit crypt, she sighed in both sadness and shame before turning on her heel and slipping off into the night. She might come back one day, she wasn't sure. She just needed time.
So
come to bed It's getting late
There's
no more time for us to waste
Remember
how my body tastes
You
feel your heart begin to race
The End.