I wake up with a groan, my alarm clock blaring in my ears.  I lean over and
turn it off, opting to sink back into my pillows.  My nice comfortable
pillows from home, in my nice comfortable bed.

Damn, I'm awfully sore.  I stretch, trying to remember why I'm so sore. . .

My eyes fly open and my hand flies to my neck, searching for a bite.  When I
feel nothing, I stand up.  I stumble to the bathroom, eyes closed.  I slowly
open my eyes, not expecting to see a reflection.

She's staring back at me, green eyes bleary, but blazing with a fire *I* don
't know if I've ever seen before.  I'm human still.  That is of the good.
With a sigh, I'm looking all over my body to see what damage he *had* to
inflict on me.

But there is none.

I slept with Spike.  A big bad Master Vampire that could have killed me just
as soon as sleep with me.

But he didn't.

My face scrunches up in a frown as I try to figure out *why* he didn't kill
me.  Not that I mind.  It's good to be alive, *really* good to be alive.

He'll kill me.  I know that he will.  I would be surprised if he didn't.  I
mean, I screwed him and didn't even let him have an orgasm for goddess'
sake!  If *I* were him, I'd kill me.

I should tell Buffy.  But I don't want to.  I don't want her to know.  I
want to keep this to myself, because. . .honestly. . .I don't want her to
stake him.  Though she might not care much now. . .

I find myself in the shower, wondering what the perfect little Slayer would
do if she found out that *I* shagged Spike senseless.  I did.  I remember
the look on his face, the surprise, the respect. . .how hard he was inside
of me.

My hands travel my body at their own accord, traveling over my heated flesh.
I close my eyes and see images of him in my mind, that blonde hair, those
blue eyes. . .the respect in those eyes. . .

I find myself wishing the real world would just stop hassling me. . .I
wonder what it's like to be the head honcho.  I wonder what I'd do if they
all did just what I said.

Hell, I wonder what I'd do if they just listened to me.

My fingers plunge faster, deep within me.  I've got my other hand on the
wall of the shower, holding myself up.  And yet, as my orgasm washes over
me, I can't help but to think about how he will never want to see me again,
never want to hold me. . .never call me his.

And why should I even care?  I straighten my shoulders and step out of the
shower.  I shouldn't give a damn.  I just used him for sex, just to get rid
of the anger.  It worked, didn't it?  Right?  I'm better now. . .I can go
back to being that perfect little friend they all expect.

Right?

Somehow, I know I'm kidding myself.  I'll never be the same again.

*~*~*~*

They shun me.  Buffy and Riley *actually* turn away from me when I go to sit
with them.  They are sitting there with Graham, Anya, and Xander.  Buffy
takes one look at me and turns that stupid little stuck-up nose away, all
but telling me that I wasn't welcome there.

Everyone else at the table stares at their food, except for Xander.  He
watches me with big sad brown eyes, conveying how he didn't want this to
happen.  I take a deep breath, trying not to get angry again.  That's the
last thing I need, to feel that rage, that anger. . .the luring
seductiveness of finding Spike and screwing the hell out of him again. .
.damn it, Buffy, don't make me wanna change my tone. . .

Xander finds me sitting under a tree, minding my own business.  I glance up.
"Hey, Xand."

He shuffles, then sits.  "You don't mind?"

"If you join me?" I ask.  I laugh.  "Of course not, Xander, you are my best
friend."

He sits down beside me, stretching his legs.  Neither of us speaks.  I
silently eat my sandwich, and he silently steals my chips.  I glance at him
under hooded eyes, wondering what he would say about Spike being back, about
him having no chip, about me. . .about what I did to him last night.  Boy, I
bet my friends will all be stunned.

"Xander. . ."

"Willow. . ."

I giggle slightly.  "What?" I ask.

"No, you first," he motions.

I imagine the look of shock on Xander's face as I explain to him in great
detail about last night, about what I did, how I took him in my childhood
bedroom, on the bed I've had since I was ten.  I imagine him jumping up and
yelling at me, asking how stupid I could be, how easy I could be dead, how
dead Spike was.  I imagine him running to the cafeteria to tell the Slayer,
and she runs out and finds Spike, introducing him to Mr. Pointy.

Somehow I don't think Mr. Pointy and Spike would be very good friends.

"I. . .I don't blame you for sticking next to Buffy.  I know that you still
love me, but I know she needs you.  And. . ."  I take a deep breath.  I'm
burning all my bridges here, I know that I am.  "I need you to stay with
her.  Make sure she doesn't get killed."

He opens his mouth, then closes it.  "I was going to see if you would have a
problem if I stayed by her.  It's not that I'm choosing her over you. . ."

"I, unlike Buffy, because face it, Xander, she would do this, am not asking
you to choose between the two of us.  I have a lot of things I'm going
through right now, and I need to figure them out on my own."  Hopefully in
Spike's bed. . .

He squeezes my hand, and then kisses my cheek.  He gives me that silly goofy
grin I was in love with growing up, then stands.

"Xander. . ." I say.  I pause.  "Don't trust anyone, ok?"

He frowns.  "What?"

"Just. . .trust me.  Don't trust anyone.  Watch your back."

He nods, then turns, walking back towards Buffy.

I watch him as he walks off, my mind drifting back to Spike.

*~*~*~*

There is a knock on my front door at a quarter till eleven.  I glance at the
clock again to make sure I know the time, then wonder if the person on the
other side of the door knows the time.  Maybe it's Giles, and he's dropping
by to say he needs my help on a project.  Maybe it's Buffy, and she's
finally coming to apologize for being such a bitch - cause I can assure you,
I'm not apologizing first.  Maybe it's Xander, stopping by after a fun
filled night of patrol to tell me that Spike is back and Buffy finally
dusted him.

Goddess, please don't be Xander. . .

I open the door and step back with a frown.  There is a person there, and
there is this *morbid* bouquet of dead roses and daisies and sunflowers in
his hands.  I groan, knowing that only Spike would romance someone like
that.  "Spike, what do you want?"

My voice has an edge to it.  I want to see him, but I don't want *him* to
know that.

He peaks over the black flowers, blue eyes twinkling.  "What, pet, not happy
to see me?  You were happy last night."

I cross my arms, wondering why he hasn't come over the threshold yet, why he
hasn't drained me.  Why he's letting me have the control.  "No, I believe I
was fucking you last night.  There is a difference between fucking and being
happy."  I turn and walk away from the door, waiting for him to slam into
me.

I am constantly waiting for death on the Hellmouth.  My relationship - is
that even what we have? - is no different.  I know that eventually, with
Spike, I will die.  What else could he possibly want from me?

"So, Red," he drawls, walking into my house and shutting the door.  I keep
my back to him.  "What got you so effin' riled up last night?"

"Why do you really care, Spike?  Seriously?  Why haven't you gone to
announce to the Slayer that you are back?"

"You didn't tell her?" he asks, somewhat surprised.

"No.  I told you I wouldn't.  Besides, it's not like the bitch is talking to
me anyway," I answer.  I turn around and see a flash of inspiration in his
eyes before it's gone.  "What are you doing here?"

"Well, pet," he says seductively, "I thought perhaps I'd turn the tables a
little. . .wine and dine you. . ."

I raise an eyebrow.  "Don't you mean wine and dine *on* me?"

"With you, on you, makes no difference," he shrugs.  His eyes narrow.  "So
last night was completely about you, then?  It wasn't me at all, was it?"

"And you are hurt?"  I'm shocked, I can't imagine Spike being upset that
someone would use *him*.  "Seriously, Spike, how many people have you used
in your life?"

"Straight up, pet, what did you hope to learn about here?" he asks.  "Did
you think that shagging me one night would solve all your little problems?
That the Slayer would magically stop being a cow?  That's highly doubtful,
especially if you don't bloody tell her that she drove you into my arms.  Of
course, if I were someone else, would this all fall apart?"

"Of *course* I'm using you to get back at her," I scream.  "But that doesn't
matter, Spike!  You use people, and you don't care!  Why can't I?  You are
her worse enemy, and when you are standing over her, about to twist her
neck, and you tell her that her bloody dead best friend came to you, and
screwed you in a fit of anger because of something stupid she did. . .that
will hurt her.  It completely helps your damn cause, so I don't know why you
are bitching about it."

He crosses his arms, glaring at me angrily.  "Pet, what if this was more
than that?  What if I felt something last night?  Have you ever bloody
thought about that?  What if I saw a fire in you that I want to contain, and
shape to my own needs and desires?"

"Please, Spike, please don't change.  Please don't break.  The only thing
that seems to work at all is you. . .Please don't change at all, not from
me," I beg.  I don't want him to romance me, I don't want a relationship.  I
just need him to release this anger I feel inside of me.  I have five years
of shit piled on my shoulders, you know.

"So that's it, then?  That's all it is.  You and me, shagging like bunnies,
just so you can get out your frustrations."

I run my fingers through my hair and look up at him, blinking my big curious
green eyes.  "Did you ever think it would be anything more?"
 

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