AUTHOR: jodyorjen
PAIRING: Spike/Willow
RATING: NC-17 overall
SPOILERS: Season 6 through "Normal Again."
DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. GO team! Theirs, not mine.
DEDICATION: For Annie, cheerleader extraordinaire.
DISTRIBUTION: Please ask my permission first, just so I know where it's headed.
FEEDBACK: Sure, fire away to
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~Part: 1~
I wound my scarf around my neck as I went down the steps of the church. A cold wind blew down the empty street, making me shiver. The stars shone bright and clear tonight, glimmering in the dark sky. I walked along for a few blocks before I realized someone was following me. Increasing my pace, I listened intently. All I heard was the silence of the night, but the hairs on the back of my neck told me that there was someone there. My hand closed over the stake in my pocket and I whirled around quickly. A flicker of black leather caught my eye as it fluttered around the corner. The tension in my shoulders relaxed. "Come on out, Spike. I know you're there."
He poked his head around the brick wall, a sheepish expression on his face. "You caught me, Red." He sauntered over to me, his hands shoved in his pockets. "How'd you know I was there?"
"You're as subtle as an elephant," I lied. "I'm surprised that you ever managed to bite anyone. Stealthy you're not."
He looked offended. "I am too. I've been following you home every Wednesday night for weeks."
"You've been following me?" I asked, perplexed. "Why?"
"I didn't want anything to get you," he explained. "You're a succulent little morsel, pet. Might as well hang a fast food sign around your neck."
I laughed. "Don't worry, Spike. I haven't had anyone try to eat me lately." The second it was out of my mouth, I regretted it. I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks as I blushed.
"No one's tried to eat me lately either. It's a damn shame." His eyes glimmered with humor.
"So, back to the why you're stalking me thing." He walked beside me, matching his stride to mine.
"I know you go to St. Jude's on Wednesdays for your Spellcasters Anonymous meeting," he said. "You walk past three cemeteries to get there. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Without your magick- " He broke off, looking at me sideways.
"I can take care of myself," I retorted. I pulled my stake out of my coat and pointed it at him.
"Hey now!" he exclaimed as he jumped back. "None of that. Just trying to be useful."
"I'm really sick of all of you acting like I'm helpless," I said angrily. "I'm not Dawn. You don't need to baby-sit me." I chucked the stake into my massive tote bag.
"I've got nothing better to do," he said. "My nights are free lately." There was an odd undercurrent in his voice.
"Not getting much action with Buffy?" I asked. He looked startled. "Slayage slow this time of year?"
"Oh." He shook his head. "No, Slayer doesn't want me around anymore." He kicked a rock, sending it flying swiftly through the air.
"She's been kind of distant," I commented. "Either that or slightly wiggy. I wouldn't take it personally. She hasn't been in share mode very much, not since I brought her back."
We walked quietly together through Sunnydale. "I'm bored, Will," he sighed. "I like having a goal, something to work toward to. I'm at loose ends."
"You could spend time with Dawn," I suggested.
"Every time I try to get together with her, she's going to Tara's or Janice's," he complained.
"Well, aside from studying and going to meetings, I don't have much going on," I said. "If you wanted to, we could do things sometimes. It would be more fun than stalking me down a dark alley."
"Although that is kind of fun. I can pretend that you're my next meal, and I'm sneaking up on you to bite you." He said it so wistfully, that I felt sorry for him.
"Do you want to make it a game?" I asked. "We could, if you wanted to. I can pretend to be very scared and scream really loud for you."
He looked at me. "Would you really?" he said hopefully. He shook his head. "But that's stupid. You're just humoring me."
"It would be fun," I replied. "Really. I want to."
He smiled at me. His whole face lit up, and I was struck by how handsome he was. I tried to remember the last time I'd seen him smile, and I couldn't. "Okay, but not now. You're expecting it, so that's no fun." He looked thoughtful. "You keep walking home like normal." He disappeared into the night, slipping away in the blink of an eye.
I whistled softly as I walked down the street. I was surprised to find that I was enjoying myself. Life had been very short on fun since Tara… I shook the thought away, not wanting to sink back down to self-pity. She was dating someone else now, I'd seen them together and mutual friends had confirmed it. Turn that frown upside down, I thought to myself. That way lies crying jags and cookie dough binges.
I was nearly home, so I turned past Revello Drive and headed towards the cemetery. I trudged across the field, passing the playground. The swings swayed in the wind, and my skirt flew wildly around my ankles. I walked through the cemetery gates. The moon was high in the sky, and the marble tombstones glowed.
I bent over and picked a dandelion, bursting out all over in fuzzy tufts. "I wish I could get over Tara," I said, and blew the fluff off it in one large puff, watching the seeds scatter, seized by a strong gust in the air. Suddenly, I was tackled from behind, sliding across the dewy grass. I smiled to myself. Good one, Spike. I let out a long, shrill scream as I flipped over to face my attacker.
It wasn't Spike. My scream shifted to a real one as I looked up at the ridged face snapping near my own. "Yummy," hissed the female vampire. She was about my size, but incredibly strong. She pinned my arms to the ground as she sank her fangs into my neck. I kicked at her with my legs, making as much of an impact as a butterfly bashing against sheet metal. The bite stung, the pain in my neck making me whimper.
Abruptly, she was gone. My mouth and eyes were full of dust and I coughed raggedly, my eyes watering. "Willow," cried Spike. "Oh, bloody hell." He leaned over and pulled me up. "Are you okay, love?" His eyes scanned my face as he held tightly to my shoulders.
"She bit me," I whined, sounding about four years old. I handed him my bag. "Can you find a tissue in there?"
"Poor girl," he said soothingly. "We'll get you all fixed up." He rummaged through the bag and handed me a Kleenex. I pressed it to my neck, trying to stop the flow of blood. He put his arm around me and we walked towards my house. "I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," I said. "It was stupid of me to walk through the cemetery without a stake in my hand."
"Well, you were expecting me," he countered. "You weren't planning to actually stake me."
"Maybe I should have been," I said, wincing. "God, this really hurts. Harmony was more delicate than stupid dusty vamp bitch."
We walked up the steps to the house and I opened the door. The house was dark and empty. I flipped the light on and walked upstairs to the bathroom, and Spike followed behind. I tossed away the soaked tissue and looked at the oozing bite mark. I opened the medicine cabinet, looking for gauze to stem the flood of blood.
"It won't clot for fifteen minutes or so," he explained. "Our fangs emit an anti-coagulant. You have to wait for it to wear off."
"I'm starting to feel dizzy," I told him. I sank down on the toilet and tried to stay upright.
He kneeled down before me and held my shoulders. "Just relax," he suggested, his eyes locked on my neck. I could feel the blood dripping down, pooling on the collar of my shirt. "I'll take care of you." His pupils were dilated, and he was breathing fast.
My vision was starting to blur and I felt my head tip to the side. "I'm falling," I said faintly. He pulled me into his embrace and closed his mouth over the wounds in my neck. I felt a gentle sucking, and a warm feeling flowed through me, like honey in my veins. I began to tingle, the sensation spreading from my head to my groin.
He groaned a low guttural sound that made me wet between the thighs. He did it again, and I grabbed tightly to his neck. He was still sucking, and it felt so good, in a primal way than I shouldn't be feeling with Spike. I was vividly reminded of how long it had been since I'd had sex. I let out a moan, and it was a raw, naked noise, a noise I'd never made in front of anyone who wasn't my lover.
He sucked harder, and I slid off the toilet seat, landing on his lap. I felt the bulge in his pants against the thin cotton of my panties. The blood was getting to him, just as the sucking was getting to me. He growled against my neck, making me gasp. His hands grabbed the curve of my ass and pressed me against his erection, deliberately rubbing my clit against the head of his cock. It was too much, the hardness of him against me, the liquid feel of his mouth against my neck. I began to move, sliding up and down on him, the nearly forgotten rhythm of dry petting. I thought of Oz, of nights in the back of his van, rubbing against each other for hours, driving each other insane through our clothes. A cool hand slid beneath my shirt and cupped my breast, and suddenly I wasn't thinking of anything except Spike.
He licked my neck as he gently fingered my nipples. We rocked against each other, and I felt him swelling underneath me, growing even harder and more insistent. I felt the tension building, and building, and building, and I came, crying out as my hand tightened on his neck, my nails scoring his flesh.
He pulled away from my neck, his demon in full force, and my blood on his mouth. "Yes," he said throatily. His hand moved away from my breasts and he unfastened his pants. His cock was large and thick, fierce and red, weeping with arousal. His eyes opened and he looked at me, his tongue lapping my essence into his mouth. I'd never had anyone look at me that way before, as if I was the most desirable woman on earth and the tastiest snack ever.
He shook his head, and the demon melted away. I put my hand on his cock, and I caressed him, quickly learning the tempo that he wanted. He pressed his face against my chest and made noises, sharp and uncensored cries of need. He began to move his hips wildly and I lost the rhythm, causing him to cry out in frustration. He pulled back and pressed his hand down on my head, dipping my mouth towards his crotch.
I tilted him back against the wall and leaned over, taking the head of his penis between my lips. He bucked upwards, and my mouth was filled with his length. He was very large, and I gagged, quickly pulling away so I didn't choke. His hand covered the back of my neck. "Please," he said, his voice quivering. "Sweet, darling girl." He petted my skin with his fingertips, and the salty taste of him seeped into my mouth, his precome leaking onto my tongue. I felt a rush of confidence, pleased by his desire for me. I began to suck slowly, getting to know his taste and adjusting to his size. He murmured appreciatively, his hands massaging my neck.
"I'm coming," he gasped, his hand tightening in my hair. "Oh, fuck, Red." He jerked within my mouth, filling it with his semen. I gulped it down until he slipped out of my mouth, soft and sated. I pulled away and stood up. He rested against the wall, his eyes shut.
Reality hit me full into the face as I looked down at Spike. I was embarrassed, and upset with myself. I backed away, toward the door. He looked up at me, his expression clouded. "I'm sorry," I babbled. "I don't know why this happened."
He stood up and fastened his pants. "Please, don't leave," he said, reaching out to me. I turned away and he grabbed my fingers. I turned around to see him staring at me, his eyes a clear blue. "I'm not a selfish git. I don't go round shoving my cock in girls' faces."
"I'm sure you don't," I stammered. "I'm just going to go to sleep, and I'll see you later, and we'll be back to normal."
He pulled me to him and kissed me. It was a deep, hard kiss, and I felt it everywhere. "I want to fuck you, Willow," he murmured. "I'm a good lover. Let me prove it to you."
It was tempting, more tempting than his blunt request should have been. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine again. His eyes bored into me, and I wanted him inside me. "No," I said. "Really, we shouldn't."
"Don't you want me?" he asked intently, his hands sliding up my arms. I shivered at his touch, my body responding enthusiastically. "Willow," he whispered, bending his mouth to mine again. Our kiss deepened as he slipped his leg between my thighs. His tongue lapped inside my mouth as he rubbed against my swollen nub. He guided my hand between his legs and he was hard and ready. I trailed my fingers along the outline of his erection, making him shudder. My hand clenched its firm shape through his pants as I achieved a sharp, intense climax.
He slid off my shirt and pulled up my skirt, the touch of his hand raising goose bumps on my skin. He shoved my panties aside and unzipped his jeans. I thought about suggesting we move to the bedroom, but that seemed too calculated. Spur of the moment in the bathroom I could justify, but not leisurely sex in my bed. I tried to just feel, focus on the sensations, and not think.
He kissed me deeply as he lifted me against the wall. Strong hands held tightly to my hips as his hard cock slipped inside me. I cried out, in pain and pleasure. The sudden pressure inside me was intense as I stretched to accommodate his length. He moved his mouth from mine, making a strangled noise. We began to move, and I wrapped my legs around him, taking him deeper within. He smiled at me, licking my lower lip. "Scream for me," he whispered. "Let me hear how much you like this." My blood flowed into him as he bent his head and fed, and the pleasure increased twofold. I did as he asked. I cried out with pleasure, peaking violently as he surged within my body. As I began to wind down, he moved his mouth to mine. His tongue conquered mine, dominating me, and I surrendered.
"I need more," he growled, as he licked my shoulder. Fangs skimmed across my skin as he bit down and cried out in pain. "Fucking chip." He twisted his torso around, still within me, reaching into the cabinet. Bottles crashed into the sink as he swatted them aside. "Aha." Turning back to me, he slipped a razor blade in my hand.
"Willow," he said intently. "Please let me drink some more blood. It's been so long, you can't understand what this means to me. I want more of you." I looked in his eyes, and there was nothing to fear in them. Just need, and a hunger so deep that it hurt to see it.
I drew the sharp edge across my skin, burning a delicate trail across my shoulder. He pulled out and spun me around, his mouth closing over the cut as he began to suck. My hands slammed up on the wall as he took me from behind. His cock slid inside me, filling me completely. Our rhythm increased until I was shoved up on my tiptoes, barely hanging on to the wall with my fingertips. He held me possessively, one hand clenched around my breast while the other clung to my hip. "I can feel you inside me, just like I'm in you." My knees began to shake as I began my second orgasm. "Oh, yes," he whispered in my ear. "I feel it, love."
"Oh, Spike," I said breathily. "Oh, Spike."
The pace quickened as he held my waist and lifted me higher, so that I was suspended above the floor. His balls slapped against me, his breath coming hard in my ear. "Let go," he demanded. "Give it up."
I did. I cried out as he sucked on my shoulder again. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before, a total body quake with full pyrotechnics. The sensation went on and on, in long steady waves, as a riot of color exploded behind my closed eyes. His arms wrapped around my waist as he came, roaring as he shook with pleasure. He let me go and I slid down the wall, falling at his feet.
He sank down beside me, and we both lay on the floor, panting as we stretched out on the cool tile. My body still throbbed, trembling with aftershocks from my release. He rolled on top of me, and pulled off what was left of our clothes, then carried me to my room, closing the door behind him. "Not here," I pled. Not in my bed, where Tara and I had made love.
"Don't want to remember me this way, pet?" he said cynically. I opened my mouth to respond, but he covered it with a gentle kiss. I sighed despite myself. He felt so good. I felt his erection brush across my thigh, and he sank inside me, pressing me into the softness of my bed. "Look at me," he said, brushing my jaw.
He looked down at me fiercely, his gaze intent. "What do you want?" I asked. He didn't answer, just continued to move deliberately back and forth. "You feel so good inside me." Skin pale in the moonlight, his muscles rippled as he worked. "You're so beautiful."
He smiled down at me. "So are you, witch," he said. I pulled his mouth down to mine. He kissed me carefully, long, languid kisses that left a sweet glow through me.
He moved his mouth to my nipple and sucked languorously, long slow pulls that I felt down to my toes. The slow rhythm of his thrusts and the feeling of his mouth were more than I could stand for long. I grabbed a fistful of sheets, arching up as I hit my peak. "Oh, God," I cried out. "Ah, Spike." A wave of pleasure overwhelmed me and I closed my eyes tightly. I opened them to see Spike gazing down at me, his head tilted. "Don't stare," I said breathlessly.
"Why not?" he asked, as he drew his fingertips across my cheek.
"You make me feel all naked," I replied.
"You are," he said, kissing my jaw. "Gloriously naked underneath me." His hands brushed over my shoulders and across my breasts, so tenderly. He began to slide back and forth again inside me, and I closed my eyes, lost in rapture.
****
The front door slammed and footsteps echoed up the stairs. I snuggled closer to Spike as he tightened his arm around my waist. There was a knock at the door, and it opened slowly. "Will?" said Buffy. The light from the hall seeped into the room.
"I'm not alone," I called out. "Shut the door."
"Sorry," she whispered.
"Guess that answers the question of if you ever do knock," said Spike sleepily. Buffy stood in the doorway for a moment, a shadow standing in front of a bright light.
"Shut the door, please," I repeated, turning over to avoid the light. Spike threw his arm over me and spooned into my back. The door shut quietly, barely making a noise.
****
Something shattered in my bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, a rim of light glowing in the dark. "It doesn't have chuck all to do with you," hissed Spike. "It has to do with her and I. No one invited you to the party."
"It is about me," she countered. "You chose her just to hurt me. You didn't sleep with the ho at the wedding to spare my feelings, but you'll fuck my best friend in my own house?"
"That was before you told me that I wasn't part of your life, Slayer," he whispered. "If that's true, nothing I do should bother you, should it?"
"If you ever cared about me, you wouldn't do this," Buffy said, choking up. "You wouldn't put me through this. Having to see you naked in her bed-"
"You didn't want me in yours," he said bitterly. "You never let me stay, not once."
"I had my reasons," she explained. "I wasn't intentionally trying to hurt you."
"You never cared about my feelings, not ever," he parried. "If I slept with Willow, it's no concern of yours. Once I loved you, but that's over now. You bloody well ended it yourself, didn't you?"
There was a silence, and then the slamming of a door. The light turned off and Spike came back to my bed. He slid next to me, and tenderly kissed my shoulder. "Please go now," I asked him, trying not to cry.
"Willow-" he began.
"Please just go," I asked. "I don't want to hear about it. I don't want to know."
"This isn't about Buffy," he insisted. "It's-"
"You used me to hurt her," I cried, the hot tears running down my face. "That's the only reason that you were here. You wanted her to find us. You wanted to make sure she knew."
"That isn't true," he crooned, as he wiped away my tears. He bent to kiss me and I shoved him away. He looked at me, startled.
"Get out of my room before I magick you out," I threatened. "I'd be happy to turn you into a frog, or a newt, or something else gross and slimy."
His face changed, becoming something closed and hard. "Fine." He rolled out of bed and stalked to the bathroom. I heard him bang around inside, zipping his jeans and tying his boots, before the door crashed shut.
****
I couldn't stay asleep that night. Restless, I stirred, waking from dreams of him, reaching out for someone who wasn't there. I buried my face into the pillow, and it was covered with his scent. I could still feel his touch on my body and taste him on my lips. Humiliation and anger overwhelmed me and I cried again, long jagged sobs that tore at my throat and made my head hurt. Finally, exhausted, I slipped into a dreamless slumber.
I woke to the sound of birdsong. It was still dark outside, and I leaned over and flicked on the light. Rose petals were everywhere, spread across the bed, the floor and the windowsill. A bouquet of roses rested on the pillow, where Spike had slept beside me. I picked up the card. "Once, twice, thrice I loved you, here in this bed. It won't be the last." I walked to the window and drew back the curtain. He stood in the back yard, lit cigarette in hand, watching and waiting.
~Part: 2~
It sounded really romantic. Rose petals strewn in a thick carpet on the floor, and gently scattered across the bed. Considering that I was angry and upset prior to the floral sneak attack, picking up a roomful of little bits of American Beauty was leaving me feeling as amorous as a trip to the dentist.
I should have used a dustbuster. That would have cleaned up the mess in a snap. Vroom, vroom, no more rose petals. But if I did that, they would be mangled, ruined, and sucked into oblivion. Two thousand and three, two thousand and four, two thousand and five, I counted. I placed the last petal into the shoebox and put the lid on, setting it on my dresser.
I was running late for class now, thanks to Operation Cleanup. It had taken nearly two hours to fix the mess that Spike had made in my bedroom and bathroom, and I'd cut my hand on broken glass. So now I had a bandage on my hand to match the one on my neck, plus the cut and a bruise on my shoulder from Spike's mouth. No Spike thoughts, Will, I chastised myself. Don't even go there.
I shoved my books in my backpack and hurried downstairs. Tara was standing in the foyer, waving a censer, scented smoke billowing around her in a cloud. Her new girlfriend sat on the couch in the living room, chatting with Buffy. Perfect. "Hello," I said, putting on a cheerful front.
Tara turned to me with a sweet smile. "Hi, Willow." She was beautiful and nice, just like always. She had a wonderful glow of love about her, and it wasn't from me.
"What brings you here this morning?" I asked, pulling on my jacket.
"I have to do a deinvite for Spike," she replied. "Buffy asked me to come over first thing." Anger bubbled up inside me. Buffy hadn't even asked me. I lived here too. For all she knew, we could be dating, and she'd made sure he couldn't come inside? I turned to face her, and took in the set of her jaw and the anger in her eyes. I didn't have time for a fight, and I wasn't about to do it in front of Tara.
"I have to go," I said. I went out the front door and ran for the bus stop. Midway down the block, I saw the bus pull away from the curb in a plume of exhaust. "Damn it!" I looked at my watch. If I had managed to catch that one, I would have been ten minutes late. Now I was screwed.
"Fancy a lift, pet?" said a droll voice. I spun around. Spike's DeSoto was pulled up to the curb right next to me. I crossed the street and hurried away from him. "You're going to miss your class," he called from the barely cracked open window. "You'd best get in."
I needed to be there, to take notes for my final. I walked around the car and opened the door, sliding in. "Drive fast," I said. "And don't take this as a hopeful sign. I wouldn't be with you if I weren't desperate."
I expected a witty comeback, but I didn't get one. He just handed me a cup and a paper sack and hit the accelerator. It was an iced cappuccino with extra foam and a banana nut muffin. My favorites. I turned to look at him. "Thought you might fancy a bit of breakfast," he said. "I figured that you'd need a little pick-me-up. I know you didn't get much sleep last night." He turned to look at me. "How's your neck?"
"Fine," I replied in a clipped tone. It ached, and so did my shoulder. I felt hungover, my body stiff and my head throbbing.
"Look, I know you're pissed off," he said. "And you have a right to be. But I wasn't planning on what happened between us last night, or I would have told you about Buffy and I. Not that there's really a whole lot to tell."
"It doesn't matter now," I said. "It's a little late for honesty."
His hands clenched the steering wheel tightly. "Willow, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fuck things up like this. Just give me a chance to set things right."
"No," I said, taking a big swig of coffee.
He stopped at a red light and turned to me. "Look here, Willow. I'm not asking for your eternal love and devotion. Just give me a shot."
"A shot at what?" I asked him.
"You," he said. "Maybe us." His face was free of pretense, open and honest.
"The light is green," I pointed out, and he turned back.
We drove in silence until we reached the campus. He pulled into a parking space behind Ruhl Hall. "Ten minutes to spare," he commented. "Better than if you'd caught your bus."
"Thanks for the ride," I said, as I reached for the handle.
He put his hand over mine. "You and I, we were good together last night. Not just in bed. I liked walking with you and talking with you." He stroked my hair, his fingers brushing across my jaw. "Let me just take you out somewhere. No strings, I promise." I turned to look at him, and he brushed a kiss across my lips, tentative and sweet.
"I don't trust you," I said. "You hurt me and I can't even think about forgiving you right now."
"Then don't," he said. "Just let me see you tonight." His eyes were a soft blue, and his eyelashes were so long. I'd had sex with this beautiful man, I thought, despite myself. Steamy, fantastic sex. I realized he was waiting for an answer.
"I can't," I told him. "I'm going to dinner with Xander."
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "You have a date with monkey boy?"
My temper flared. "It's really not any of your business," I said.
"Bullshit," he said angrily. "After last night-" his grip tightened on my wrist, hurting me. I hit him in the head with the muffin. Bits of crumb topping and pastry smashed into his hair and fell to his shoulders. He let me go, his eyes wide. I threw the drink on his chest, and the top popped off, sending a big splash over his shirt. Slamming the car door shut, I walked into the building, and I could feel his eyes following me.
****
An hour later, I walked out of the lecture hall with a blank page instead of my usual copious notes. Ordinarily I loved my seminar in abnormal psychology, but today I was unable to focus on anything. I headed across campus and up the steps off my old dorm before I remembered that I didn't live there anymore.
I usually spent the afternoon at the library, studying. I settled into my carrel and tried to get enthused. I wanted to let the memories of last night go, and just focus on my work. But it was all too intense, the feeling of Spike inside me, the tenderness on his face when he held me, the pain of overhearing his talk with Buffy. Seeing Tara had stirred up a whole other set of emotions. Every time I saw her, I felt overcome with sorrow and regret.
After a fruitless hour reading the same page over and over, I gave up. I found myself walking to the cemetery, to Spike's crypt. He answered my knock, a guarded look on his face. A black shirt hung open over his bare chest, a pair of jeans low on his hips, and he held a book in his hand. "Willow," he said, surprised.
"I need to get a few things straight with you," I began. "And instead of just having these little conversations in my head, I thought it would make more sense if I actually spoke to you."
"Okay," he agreed. I walked into the crypt and he picked up some things off the floor and shoved them into a box. "Can I get you a Snapple?" he offered. "I have the raspberry kind you like."
"Sure," I replied. He brought me the drink and sat down next to me on the couch. I was very aware of him so close to me, and I flashed back to his leg the night before, rubbing between my thighs. I slid over, as far away from him as I could. "I'm sorry about the muffin," I apologized. "You made me really mad, but I shouldn't have done it. And you shouldn't grab me when you're angry. I don't like it, and I won't stand for it."
"I won't do it again," he promised. "I'm sorry that I lost my temper."
I looked at the book that he'd been reading. "One Hundred Years of Solitude," I commented. "That's funny, I'm reading that for my Latin American Literature class."
"It's not your copy," he said defensively. "I bought my own."
"I wasn't accusing you of stealing mine," I explained. "I just thought it was a weird coincidence." He looked at me for a moment and then leaned forward and pulled a cigarette from the pack on the table. He lit it and slid the ashtray in front of himself. Puffing strongly on his cigarette, he jiggled his leg and tapped his other hand on his knee. I realized he was nervous. My coming here had caught him off guard.
"What happened last night," I began. "Was it the blood that made you want to have sex, or was it me?"
"Both," he said at once. "Drinking from you, I've wanted that since I first laid eyes on you. Sex with you-" he paused. "I'd thought about it before. I figured that maybe I had a chance with you, before you and Tara became serious. You were the only one who was kind to me, and I thought we had good chemistry."
That was a shock. "I never thought of you that way before last night, and it took me by surprise. The sex was amazing, especially in my bed, when you were so gentle and sweet. I thought that you were over Buffy, and maybe you wanted to date me."
"You had it right, Willow," he said softly. "That is what I want."
"Buffy is my best friend," I reminded him. "I'm not going to date you to help you get back at her."
"That isn't why I chose you," he said. "Although it is kind of a bonus. She really hurt me, and it did feel good to hurt her a bit too." He lit another cigarette and got a beer from his refrigerator.
I looked at him. "How long were you guys together?"
"Three months," he said, swigging his drink. "She broke up with me a week before the wedding that wasn't."
"Why didn't any of us know about the two of you?" I asked him.
"She didn't want anyone to find out," he explained. "She was ashamed of me." The quiet words belied the deep pain and hurt that I sensed beneath them.
"Why did you stand for that?" I asked him, turning his face to mine. "Why did you sleep with someone who was embarrassed of you?" I ran my hand through his hair, driven by the need to soothe him.
"I loved her," he said. "You of all people understand how much I loved her. I would have done anything she wanted."
"That kind of love, it never leaves you," I revealed. "It's always there, underneath." I kissed his cheek, and he shut his eyes and turned away.
"I knew you'd understand," he said. "I've seen how you act with Tara, and I know she makes you hurt the same way Buffy hurts me." He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back on the armrest. He seemed confident and assured once more, all hesitancy and nervousness gone. "There's no need to sacrifice ourselves on the altar of unrequited love. Not when we're so good together." He looked at me, a raw carnal gaze that I felt down to my toes.
"I don't think that we should have sex again," I told him. "It was supposed to be just one single moment, something urgent but ultimately meaningless." I swallowed, my mouth dry. "But the way you made me feel, it was something more."
"We're well suited, you and I," he said, his eyes never leaving me. "It's not just physical, it's deeper than that. There's something more interesting going on between us than just two bodies slapping together." He leaned towards me and put his hand behind me on the back of the couch. He slid his fingers across my thigh.
"Spike-" I began, but he put his fingers to my lips, tracing their outline.
"We already had sex, why should we deny ourselves?" he said huskily. "Being inside of you was amazing." My heart sped up, and he slipped his fingers across the pulse of my neck. He kissed me and then his mouth moved lower down, sucking on my nipple through the thin silk of my blouse. I took a shuddered breath as he gently slid me down so that I lay on the couch. He rested over me, and I held his shoulders as his mouth worked at my breasts, mouthing them through my shirt until the front was soaked through. He unbuttoned it and slid it over my wrists. I lay there in my bra, a low satin demi cup the color of garnets. "Red's a naughty girl," he said admiringly.
"It matched my outfit," I said lamely. "That's all."
He gave me a knowing look and popped open the front clasp. "You're so beautiful. Such pure white skin, so pale and lovely." He licked at my nipples with his tongue, tiny delicate strokes like a cat. He unbuttoned my pants and slid his hand over my stomach, then across the satin thong that I was wearing. "You dressed up for me, the bra, the knickers."
"I didn't," I said. Well, not consciously.
He snapped the side of the thong. "This is for me, I know it. Worlds away from the little cotton flowered number you had on last night."
"I just felt like something a little different," I said. He licked my breasts and rolled them in his hands, avoiding my nipples. I gently nudged his head towards them but he ignored my hints.
"Please," I whimpered.
He looked up at me, his eyes gone dark with passion. "What do you want, love?" he asked, kissing my lower lip tenderly.
"More," I said simply. He picked me up and carried me over to his bed. "Not sex though. Just a little fooling around won't hurt anyone."
"Okay," he said, as he took off his pants. He yanked off mine as well, tossing them aside.
"Why are you getting naked then?" I asked him.
"Just in case," he said. He pushed my thong aside and shoved two fingers inside me, slipping them in and out as he sucked hard on my nipple. My body melted, and I felt his fingers grow wet and slick.
"Spike," I moaned, as his fingers plucked and stroked me, penetrating me deeply. "Spike."
"Willow," he said, and his mouth closed over my ear. He pumped gently until I came, gasping for air. He nibbled at my shoulder, his tongue sliding along the scab from my razor cut.
He let me wind down and then began to move his fingers again. They slid over a sensitive area, and I felt the urge to bear down. His finger hit just the right spot, and it became unbearably overpowering. I tensed up, feeling a pressure on my bladder. "Keep going," he said in my ear. "Just let yourself go. It's your G-spot. If you don't make me stop, it will feel so good."
I relaxed into the sensation. It felt like I had to pee, only sharper and deeper. His mouth licked and sucked at my nipple as he moved his fingers within me. He kept up the pace for a long time, not rushing me. His gentle movements caused the pressure to slowly build up. "Yes," I cried out. "Oh, God." I felt the fluid gush over his fingers as the intense orgasm rolled through me.
"I have to taste you everywhere," he said breathily. "I want to swallow your come." He buried his face between my thighs, vigorously sucking. He slurped and licked, greedily lapping at my lips, my clit, up and down my walls.
I screamed as an orgasm assaulted me, swift and brutal. "Spike," I cried out. "Take me, take me now."
He pulled his mouth away and ripped off the thong, slipping his cock inside me. It was even better than I remembered from last night. I was still bucking from my orgasm and the added sensation of him inside me kicked it into overdrive. I bit his chest as he pumped vigorously. "I love making you come," he growled. "I love the way your whole body turns pink and your toes curl up." He licked my neck and cupped my breasts as he stroked.
"Too much," I cried out, hammered by the intensity of being with him.
"Never enough," he said, kissing me hard. He stared down at me. "I'm fucking you, Willow. I'm driving inside you, making you mine. You like it like this, don't you?"
"Harder," I cried out. "Please." He moved my ankle up over his shoulder, and he closed his eyes as he banged against my cervix. "Anh," I said, strangled. I ripped my nails across his chest as I came, my muscles tightening all around his cock.
"Fuck," he cried out. "Fuck." We came together, both of us shamelessly screaming. He pulled away from me and curled into my back, kissing my neck and shoulder. I was filled with peace, a glorious glow that I'd thought had been lost forever.
"I had a great let's just be friends speech planned," I said when I could speak again.
He laughed and licked my ear. "Let's hear it."
"We've known each other a long time," I began, "and I really respect you as a person." His hand snaked around my front and rubbed my clit. "I'm sorry that things got so out of hand, and I really want to continue our friendship." Three fingers slid inside me and began to pump. "So I think it's best if we just handle this like two adults." I felt a finger trace across my bottom, and slowly work its way inside my anus. I gasped as he rolled me on my stomach.
"Don't stop, pet," he whispered as he worked me with both of his hands. "It's a very compelling talk. Well thought out." He massaged my G-spot, and I could feel his fingers rubbing together through the thin membrane between ass and vagina. I cried out as I began to come. His finger pulled out of my ass and he slipped his cock inside slowly, burning me. "Trust me," he said, kissing my neck. "My lovely one." He pumped with his fingers and stroked with his cock, and everything exploded. He buried his face in the back of my neck as he yelled, and I felt the liquid stream of him pour inside me. He moved a few more strokes before withdrawing.
"I've never done that before," I admitted. "I thought it would hurt, or be gross. But it wasn't." I rolled over and rested my head on his shoulder. He moved his mouth to mine, and it felt so right, being with him.
"We're never going back to just friends, Willow," he said softly. The look in his eyes was intense, and his voice had the ring of a promise, or a threat.
Blood drinking, bad touching, sex in the naughty place. I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it. I was in over my head.
****
"The whole thing just snowballed," Xander said animatedly. "I found myself wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into." I sipped on a glass of wine as I put a breadstick on my plate. The piped in music was getting on my nerves and the air conditioning was on too high. I pulled my cardigan over my shoulders. "I'm not really sure that I loved Anya," he explained. "I miss her, and I really regret hurting her, but I'm not sure how I feel."
"If you weren't sure, then you made the right choice," I said. "Marriage is a huge step. You were right to wait." I dipped the breadstick in alfredo sauce and took a bite.
"I just think that I need someone else," he said. "Someone that I could build a future with."
"If you're looking for long-term, that is important," I said. "Your goals and dreams should mesh."
"I want a woman that I have a history with, that I've had feelings for that go back a long time." He looked deep into my eyes.
I felt a tingle creep into my cheeks. "That sounds good, Xander," I said. "That sounds nice." Maybe, this time…
"Someone like Buffy. Do you think that she's over Riley?" he asked earnestly. "Do you think I have a shot?"
I was dumbfounded. Buffy? First Spike, now Xander. Everyone wanted Buffy. It was always all about Buffy. I reached for my wineglass, knocking it over. Xander leaned back, avoiding the splash. My new white linen dress was soaked with red wine. "Sorry," I apologized.
"It's fine," he said.
"I should go get cleaned up," I said, as I stepped away from the table. I walked down the hallway to the ladies room and dabbed at the stain with a paper towel. As I stood in front of the mirrored wall. I reached up to fix my hair and a cool hand grabbed my wrist and turned me around. Spike stood before me, dressed in a black wool suit, a red tie around his neck.
"Spike!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Fancied having cannelloni al forno and a bit of tiramisu." He pulled me into a stall and pressed me against the door. He captured my chin in his hands and kissed me as he leaned in, so that we were touching from chest to ankle. His body was so hard underneath me, and mine fired at his touch. We kissed thoroughly, as his hands roamed over my body, sliding across my dress.
"You shouldn't be here," I gasped, as I broke the kiss.
"I love the way you taste," he said huskily. "Your mouth, your skin, your sweet little clit," he purred, kissing my neck as he slid his hand underneath my skirt.
"Stop that," I said, batting his wrist away.
"You're driving me mad," he whispered, his hands cradling my ass. "I can't stop thinking about you."
I felt his cock pushing against my stomach, and the urge to take him inside me washed over me in a powerful wave. I closed my eyes, trying to shove away the lust that seized my body. "I told you I had plans with Xander," I said firmly. "You shouldn't be here." I pushed at his chest with my palms, putting some distance between us.
"You didn't tell me that I couldn't come to the same restaurant," he pointed out.
"I didn't tell you I was coming here," I told him. "Which means that you followed me here, and that is just not cool."
"You should have broken your date with the idiot," he complained. He looked at me appreciatively, running a hand through my hair. "You look so beautiful all dressed up, and I want to rip his chubby little head off for looking at you."
"We aren't a couple, Spike," I reminded him. "You have no right to be jealous. And even if we were, you still couldn't act like this. It's a little psychotic, tailing me into the ladies room to get a happy."
"I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "Buffy-" he began.
Buffy, again. "You know what, Spike?" I said angrily. "I am so deeply sick of hearing about Buffy. Why don't you go fuck her, since she's the one you really want?" I walked out of the stall and left him there.
****
Things had only gone downhill from there. After I pled a headache, Xander had dropped me off at home. I decided to focus on my work, which usually soothed me and helped put things in perspective. I began my notes for a research paper, then realized that I had forgotten to buy the pivotal text that I needed. I walked all the way downtown to the bookstore, and spent seventy-five bucks for a book that I would never want to read again after this project. My backpack had split halfway back, dumping the contents all over the sidewalk as the heavy book smashed into my foot. I limped home and dressed in my most comfortable nightie and had a cup of cocoa, trying to diffuse the tension that had locked up my neck and shoulders. Feeling much more relaxed, I set to work in the dining room, straightening my notes and research materials into careful piles. A few minutes later, I heard a noise upstairs. A rhythmic thumping, right over my head. It sounded like- no, it couldn't be.
I walked to the foyer and slowly went up the stairs. Unmistakably, a male groan was followed quickly by Buffy's cry of pleasure. Go fuck Buffy, I'd snapped at Spike. The noise began again, the crash of the bed meeting the wall interspersed with gasps and moans. My mind was flooded with images of the two of them screwing like mad, and it hurt, hurt so much I felt like I couldn't breathe. I turned and ran out of the house. Midway down the block I sank to my knees, unable to see where I was going with my eyes full of tears.
Spike and Buffy were having sex. In my supreme idiocy, I had sent him to her. I didn't want him with her, I wanted him with me. He was weird and stalkery and, well, dead, but he could be so sweet and nice and he'd even bought me a muffin. I loved the way he kissed me, and smiled at me, and said my name. The tears began to fall as I huddled in a pile on the sidewalk.
"Red!" said a familiar voice. Spike hauled me to my feet and held me close. "What's the matter, love?" he asked, concerned. "Are you hurt?" He looked at me closely. "Why are you running around at night in your nightgown?"
I backed away, trying to stop the tears. "B-buffy," I managed to stammer out through my sobs.
"Buffy's fine," he said, puzzled. "She's at home."
I cried louder. "I know she's at home," I cried. "I heard you and Buffy in her room-"
He smiled suddenly. "No, no, you've got it all wrong. I'm not the one upstairs knocking boots with the Slayer-"
I cut him off with a kiss, overwhelmed with relief. He kissed me back vehemently. "Spike," I whispered, slipping my hands under his shirt. "Oh, Spike."
He pulled me back into the bushes, leaning me up against the side of someone's house. He covered my mouth with his as he lifted my skirt and crammed himself inside me. I wasn't wet, and it hurt. I made a strangled noise and he pulled away.
He took a knife from his pocket and put into in my hand, looking into my eyes. I closed my palm around the blade, breaking the skin. He slipped it back in his pocket and brought my bloody hand to his mouth. He began to suck, and I felt the lassitude of last night, the sweet languor filling my veins. I felt myself grow wet around his hard cock, and he began to move. He dropped my hand and kissed me again, fucking me ever so slowly against the vinyl siding.
We took our time, making it last, as if we were lying leisurely in bed, instead of being very indecent in a public place. He came and I came, and it was wonderful. It was beautiful, under the stars, holding each other. Oddly enough, it was the most romantic moment of my life.
He held me tightly as we walked down the dark street. He'd insisted I wear his coat, and I was warm and comfortable inside. We went back to his crypt, and slipped into bed without talking, not wanting to break the beauty of what we'd found. I fell asleep as he held me, pressing gentle kisses across my hair.
~Part: 3~
Miss Kitty was stretched across my chest, her fur warming me like a blanket. I stretched out my hand to pet her, and my fingers ran across silky skin. Startled out of my dream, I opened my eyes and looked down at Spike's sleeping face. His head rested on my bare chest, his hair the soft fur of my dream. I bent to gently kiss his cheek, and his deep blue eyes opened, gazing up into mine.
"Morning," he whispered huskily, as he smiled and stretched.
"I dreamed you were my cat," I said. "Well, my ex-cat. She lives with Tara now."
"You've got a really random thought process, you know that?" He rolled off my chest and propped himself up on his elbow, looking at me appraisingly. His hair was a curly mess, the gel that normally held it into place long gone after a night's sleep.
"I like your hair this way," I told him. "All wild and free." I ran my hand through his platinum strands, and he closed his eyes and leaned in, turning his cheek to my palm. He murmured softly and wrapped his hand around my waist, his tongue slipping inside my mouth. The kiss deepened when we began to move together, my hand seeking out and stroking his hard length while his fingers slid between my thighs. It was a heady feeling, our mouths mingling as our fingers sought out each other, driven to please.
He pulled his mouth away from mine and slid down my body, his tongue lapping at my bud. His hand slowly circled over the skin of my belly, soothing me in soft strokes. I tilted my head back and relaxed into the sensation, feeling my muscles melt into putty while his tongue flickered like a flame inside me. Cries of pleasure leaked out of my mouth in sharp pants and moans. He closed his lips around my swollen clit and grasped my hands tightly, anchoring my body to the earth as my mind split and soared, propelled by bliss.
"Willow," I heard Spike say distantly. I opened my eyes to see him poised over me, his face tight with need. My hands moved to his hard cock and slid him inside me, and both moaned with the intensity of our joining. He arched within me and I buried my face in his neck as we moved in rhythm. His hand tightened on my shoulder when he began to move faster, and I bit down on his collarbone when I heard him cry out with pleasure. Waves of color washed underneath my closed lids as I joined him in climax.
We curled together, my heart still pounding as I rested my head on his shoulder. "I like having you in my bed," he whispered in my ear. "You make waking up a much more pleasant experience."
"I feel so good this morning. It's been a long time since I've been this relaxed," I replied.
"I feel- content. It's been a very long time since I could say I was content." He laughed and tucked my hair behind my ear. "Living with Dru didn't instill one with a sense of peace and harmony." He rolled over, his torso dangling over the side of the sarcophagus, coming up holding a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray, lighting one and inhaling deeply. He balanced the ashtray on his stomach, perched perfectly on his muscles.
"Speaking of which," I said. "Dating Harmony must not have been very harmonious. I'd just like to say that I never really got the appeal there, Spike. How could you date someone so annoying?"
"There's something to be said for adoration," he replied. "Someone worshipping you, admiring you, treating you like a king. It makes you feel bigger than yourself, proud, stronger even. But it didn't last, not with her. Stupid bint yapped so much, I couldn't hear myself think."
"How did you meet her?" I asked him.
"Won her in a poker game in Las Vegas," he said. "Her sire couldn't wait to get her off his hands. I thought the git had lost his mind when I saw her. Harm has her faults, but she is really fucking stunning, I'll give her that. Wasn't till I'd been with her a few days that I understood why the bloke couldn't wait to unload her. It wasn't just that she wouldn't shut up. It's that it was all about her. Never met anyone so self-centered in my life, until I met Buffy." He flicked his cigarette, popping the cherry out.
I stiffened. "Buffy's not self-centered. She has a destiny that she can't control, and she has to deal with things that we can't even understand."
He looked at me seriously as he relit his cigarette. "I understand," he said. "Of all the people that she knows, I understand better than anyone what it means to be the Slayer." We locked eyes for a moment, and then I looked away. I rolled out of bed and picked up my nightgown from the floor. "Don't go running off just because I brought up Buffy," Spike sighed, grinding out the cigarette in the ashtray and setting it on the ground.
"It's not that. I should get going," I said, looking at my watch.
"You don't have class until three," Spike pointed out. "It's what, ten in the morning?"
"I have a paper to work on," I told him. "I was working on it last night before I-left the house." I blushed, remembering. Kind of hard to be blasé with the guy you're sleeping with when he'd found you crying because you thought he was in bed with someone else.
Spike walked over to me, his muscles rippling underneath his bare skin. "If you have to go," he said, "you have to go." He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, my pulse quickening in response. My nipples hardened as his cock skimmed across my belly.
I pulled away, trying to steer clear of the erotic haze that was clouding my mind. "We can't just stay in bed all day," I protested breathlessly.
"We could if you wanted to," he said, his tongue tracing my earlobe. "We could spend the whole day in bed doing whatever you want, for as long as you want." He grabbed the hem of my nightgown and pulled it out of my hands.
"Spike," I protested. "I really shouldn't-"
"What do you want?" he asked, his fingertips trailing down my back.
"You-" I began, but he cut me off as he lifted me in his arms and carried me back to the bed.
****
Spike was kissing a path from between my breasts down to my thighs when my stomach rumbled loudly. He looked up at me in surprise and we both laughed. "I told you I was hungry," I pointed out. "And I have to be at class in forty minutes." I pulled up on his shoulders, kissing him on the cheek.
"I can get you to school in ten minutes," he said. "That leaves me thirty more minutes to bring you to never before imagined heights of bliss."
"I'm hungry," I reminded him. "I want you, but I want food more."
"I must be losing my touch," he sighed. He rummaged through his refrigerator, bringing me a cellophane wrapped croissant and a bottle of juice. "Will you come back later?" he asked, sweeping my hair away from my face while I sipped my drink.
"I really do need to get some work done," I said.
"Tonight's Friday night," he said.
"Alright," I said, giving in. "I'll meet you back here tonight at seven." I finished off my pastry and drained my drink. He took the wrapper and empty bottle and tossed them in a paper bag.
"I still have no clothes," I pointed out. "I can't go to lecture in my nightie."
He looked pensive. "I think I have something," he said. He wandered over to the corner and rummaged through a trunk, pulling out a small leather suitcase. "Don't read anything weird into this," he said. "Just some things of Dru's that she left behind her last trip to Sunnyhell." He pulled me to my feet and slid something over my head.
I felt a cool sensation as heavy velvet slithered down my front. I looked down at a black velvet dress with bell sleeves, the laced bodice loose. Spike tightened the laces until it fit perfectly. "You're the same height as Dru," he pointed out. "I thought it would fit you."
"She's more boobacious than I am though," I said. "And I don't think I can wear this in public. I look like a Morticia wannabe."
He tilted his head and looked at me. "You look lovely in it, with your creamy skin and hair like flame."
"How poetic," I said. Blushing, he looked through the suitcase. He bent down and slipped black satin slippers on my feet. They were a little tight, but they fit. "I feel like Cinderella," I told him. "Cinderella with no underwear."
He slipped his hand under my skirt, his hand twining in my curls. "No complaints here," he said, leaning forward to nip my collarbone. I sighed and we leaned back onto the bed.
"Now I can ravish you," he said, peering at my watch. "Twenty two minutes left."
"You're insatiable," I told him, as he pulled up my skirt.
"You're incredible," he replied.
**** I opened the door of Buffy's house, finding Dawn and Janice sitting on the couch, looking through fashion magazines and eating a platter of Tollhouse cookies. "Wow, Willow, you look really pretty," said Dawn with a smile. "That dress is really cool."
"Thanks," I said.
"Want a cookie?" asked Janice. "They're fresh out of the oven."
"Janice knows how to bake," said Dawn. "She's teaching me how. We made these together." She looked at me quizzically. "You've been making out," she said excitedly. "You've totally been making out."
"No I haven't," I denied quickly.
She stood up and lifted my chin, turning my neck towards her. "You've got a hickey on your neck," she observed with a laugh. Her smile quickly faded. "And a vamp bite?" She looked at me worriedly. "Willow, have you been with a vamp?"
"I got bitten the other night," I told her. "It's no big deal."
She looked at me in disbelief, and the phone rang. "I bet that's Davis," exclaimed Janice.
Dawn grabbed the portable phone. "Hello?" she answered politely. "Hey, Dave, we were just talking about you."
Seizing the opportunity to escape the interrogation, I collected my notes and books from the dining room and took them upstairs, putting them into an old backpack I pulled out of my closet. The new text I'd bought the day before was placed on my bed with a stack of index cards and a pen.
I took off the dress I was wearing and went into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and let it run until the air began to fill with steam. The powerful jets of the showerhead pummeled my neck and back. Bruises and raw patches decorated my body in all kinds of weird places. Even my lips felt raw.
The last two days seemed so surreal. How had this whole thing happened? It seemed to have come out of nowhere. What did it mean? Did I really want Spike, or was I just lonely? Could I really date a vampire who had made it clear that my blood excited him as much as my body did? I thought back over our lovemaking, and realized that wasn't entirely true. He'd been affectionate, passionate, and attentive, with and without blood.
I stepped out of the shower and toweled off my hair, wrapping myself in a terry robe and returning to my room. Did it matter that he was a vampire? Could I gloss over the fact that he'd been my best friend's lover? Was it even fair to do this while I still missed Tara? I lay back on my bed and rested against the pillow. I needed to clear my head. My book on narcissistic disorders in hand, I began to read.
**** I snapped the book shut and gathered up my notes, satisfied with my progress on the project. I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, expecting to look as haggard as I felt. My skin glowed and my eyes sparkled, my lips a bright cherry red. I looked happy, I realized. Using a round brush, I curled under my hair until it fell to my shoulders in soft waves. I lined my eyes with kohl and brushed soft brown shadow across the lids, finishing with clear gloss on my lips.
Trying for casual but appealing, I dressed in my green peasant blouse and a pair of jeans. I rummaged through the jewelry box in my room, selecting a hematite pendant on a thin silver chain and silver studs. The door swung open as I slid my earrings in.
Buffy stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. "We need to talk," she said in a firm voice.
"I have a few minutes before I have to leave," I replied.
"You're going out with Spike again?" she asked.
"We haven't actually gone out before," I pointed out lightly. "This is our first- date, I guess."
"I know that you're not going to believe me," she said. "But this is a really bad idea. He is using you to get back at me, and I don't want you to end up hurt."
"I don't think so, Buffy," I told her. "I don't know exactly what's going on between Spike and I, but I don't think it has to do with you."
"I'm not going to argue with you. You can believe in whatever delusion you want about how Spike is really a good guy, deep down inside. But you can't bring him back here," she said firmly. "I don't want him in my house."
"I live here too," I said angrily. "If I'm going to date Spike, I should be able to have him come over. Not sleep over, if Dawn is at home, but I want to spend time with him here. I don't especially want to hang out in a crypt."
"That's what you get when you date a vampire, Will!" she declared stridently. "He's an animated corpse who lives on blood. Don't choose someone who can't even comprehend love. Don't do something so self- destructive. Believe me, I know how you'll end up feeling. This is a mistake."
"You have no idea how hard things have been since Tara left," I told her. "I've been so alone and miserable, and now I'm not. Can you please try to be happy for me?"
"How could I? Spike's an evil creature that thrives on deception, violence and death. You deserve so much more than that," countered Buffy.
"He used to be your friend," I reminded her.
"He was never my friend," she said bitterly. "Maybe you and Dawn saw something else in him. I never could." She turned her back and walked away.
****
I knocked on the crypt door. Spike answered it. He looked wonderful, wearing a vivid blue shirt and black pants, his hair left alone to fall across his forehead in gentle curls. "You look great," I told him. He took my hand and led me inside. Dozens of candles filled the room with a gentle glow. A metal bistro table and two chairs had been set up in the corner, set with a tablecloth and dishes.
"Clem brought us dinner," Spike announced as he led me to the table and pulled out my chair. "Duck, steamed green beans, rice pilaf, and chocolate mousse." He lifted the lid off of the tray at my place, revealing the steaming meal within.
"This looks wonderful," I told him, as he sat across from me.
"Clem's a chef," he explained. "His personal taste runs more to fast food, but he can pull out all the stops."
I took a tentative bite of my food. "Wow," I said appreciatively. "Unbelievable." I ate hungrily, clearing half of the plate before I even realized it. I looked up to see Spike smirking at me. "What?" I asked him.
"Didn't eat anything after you left here today, did you?" he asked.
"I was busy," I said. "I just didn't have the time." I finished my wine and he poured me another glass. "So what did you do after I left?" I asked him.
"Watched the telly, read my book. Clem brought over the dinner, table and chairs. We hung out a bit." He looked over at me. "He's taking Sophie to see a play at the Orpheum if you'd like to go. Something by Ibsen, apparently."
I shook my head. "I'm in too good a mood to see depressing Swedish drama."
Spike laughed, his teeth glinting white. "I'm making you happy, am I pet?" he said flirtatiously.
I pretended not to hear him, making a big production out of eating my food. "Did you have any other ideas for this evening?"
"I have lots of ideas," he said coolly. "Mainly involving you, me, and a lot less clothing." I choked on my duck, causing Spike to jump up and pat me furiously on the back. "You okay, love?"
"Fine," I said raggedly. "The pounding on my back was worse than the choking part."
He sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette. "Sorry."
I stood up and sat down beside him. "Spike, I really just wanted to have a nice evening with you and talk about this later, but it's bothering me and I need to say it now."
The warm blue of his eyes became steely and guarded as I watched. "Is there a problem?" he asked.
"I can't see you anymore," I told him.
I saw a vein jump on his forehead as his jaw locked. "And what exactly did Buffy say that made you come to this conclusion?" he asked coldly.
"My being with you, it hurts her. That's not how she's presenting it, but it's the subtext. I heard her talking to you the other night. I can't cause her pain, especially after everything that she's been through."
"What about all that you've been through?" he said seriously. "What about all the pain that you've had to deal with? Leading the lot of us while she was gone, Tara leaving you and giving up your magick? You've been having a rough time of it, too, and you didn't get to have a stint in heaven to make up for it."
"You can't even compare, Spike," I told him. "What I've been through, it was my own fault. My own stupidity and poor decisions brought me to this point. Buffy needs a little peace, and I can't cause her more pain. I can't be that selfish."
"If it were you, would you ask it of her?" he asked. "Would you ask her to turn her back on happiness, just to preserve yours?"
"It's irrelevant," I told him. "It's totally hypothetical."
"Just answer the question," he asked, fixing me with a stare.
"I'd never ask her to give up anything that made her happy," I said softly.
He looked thoughtful. "Even if she was with someone that you'd loved, maybe even still loved?"
I thought about it. "Yes," I told him. "Because I love her, more than just about anyone."
He looked away, grinding his cigarette in the ashtray. "It wasn't a hypothetical question, sweetheart." he told me as he held my eyes. "It was Xander in her bed last night."
I felt like something heavy had fallen on my chest. She did it to hurt you, said a voice in my head. She slept with him to get back at you, because she knew that part of you will always love him. I felt overwhelmed with nausea, hyperaware of the strong taste of chocolate in my mouth and the smell of Spike's cigarette smoke. Saliva built up in the back of my throat and I ran out of the door of his crypt.
I took deep gasping breaths of cool night air, trying to get my equilibrium back before I threw up. Strong hands rubbed my back. "I shouldn't have told you," said Spike. "I knew that it would hurt you, and I should have just kept my bloody mouth shut. I remember how you were in the Factory. I knew you were in love with Xander then, you were so terrified that I'd hurt him again." He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"He came by bragging yesterday about Buffy's sudden avowal of love for him," he said wryly. "He wanted me to know he'd succeeded where I failed, taunted me for my wasted pining over the Slayer. I came to the restaurant to tell you that she'd invited him into her bed that night. She wanted you to hear them, to know that he was with her in her room."
"I don't believe you," I told him. "That's what Buffy accused you of doing, but she'd never do that to me. She is my friend, Spike."
"She's livid that we're together, pet," he pointed out. "She's not operating from a point of magnanimous good will. She just wants to make someone else hurt the way that she's hurting."
"If it hurts her so much that you're with someone else, why did she break up with you?" I asked him. "It doesn't make any sense."
"She couldn't admit that she loved me," he said. "It wasn't something that she could do. So she let me go, even though she didn't really want to."
"And you still love her," I said. "You said as much yesterday." I shook my head. "The whole dynamic here is so screwed up, Spike. Xander and I, we're just pawns in some war that you and Buffy are waging. It's sick, and wrong, and I'm not going to be part of it." I turned to walk away, and he moved to grab my wrist. We stared at each other in silence for a long moment.
"Don't walk away from me," he said in a strained voice. "I can't take that. I won't take it from you, Willow. We will work this out, I will make you understand."
"Make me understand what, Spike?" I asked. "That you and Buffy love each other, in an extremely twisted, fucked up way?" I stepped around him, and he moved in front of me, blocking my way.
"I love her like a moth loves flame, Red." He smiled bitterly. "I'd rip her apart if I could, just to stop her from having the ability to hurt me the way she does." He looked at me intently. "It's nothing like how I feel when I'm with you."
"What do you want from me?" I asked him.
"I want to be with you," he said. "I've been following you around ever since you smashed up that car, trying to look after you as best as I could. I was worried about you, Willow, afraid that you'd tear yourself apart with magick and be lost forever. I didn't realize how much I cared about you until you were teetering on the edge. I wanted to be there, to stop your falling."
"I don't need to be saved, Spike," I told him. "I saved myself."
"You've been an empty shell, sleepwalking through life, sipping on water and disconnecting from love. I feel alive when I'm with you, and you light up when you're with me." He smiled at me, his hand reaching out to caress my hair. "You've got your sparkle back, your joy, and so do I."
"I'm not doing this," I declared, the words rushing from my mouth. "I'm not going to do this." I turned away from him and ran through the cemetery.
"No use running, pet," he called after me. "The damage is done."
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