Rating: PG, just thoughts this time around
Distribution: You're welcome to it, just let me know you're taking it
Disclaimer: All the goodness is of Joss and all the badness is from me :-)
Summary: Sequel to A Walk in the Park. Willow and Spike think about their 'relationship'
Feedback, pretty please :-)
Big thanks to Feen and Knightie for the beta help, and to everyone who has been giving me such wonderful feedback. More please, because I'm a greedy bitch :-)
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Willow woke slowly, fighting her way to consciousness as though she were encased in taffy. The first thing she noticed was a sharp pain throbbing in her neck. Her body moved slowly, as if in a daze. As her fingers moved up to run lightly over the focus of her pain, she tried to remember what she had done last night.
Her usually sharp mind was clouded with uncertainty. An attempt to focus only earned her the beginnings of a headache. As she snuggled back down into her covers and tried to relax, bits and pieces of the previous evening floated back to her. The park, the picnickers, Spike, the sex, more sex, and still more sex, until finally- HE BIT HER!
She jolted upright, the covers falling away from her naked body. Naked body? Willow's mind frantically ran through the last part of the evening, trying in vain to remember how she had arrived home, but everything after the bite was a blank. The only conclusion she could come up with was that she must have passed out, and Spike must have taken her home. How he got inside the house, up the stairs, and into her room without Buffy, Dawn or Joyce seeing him was a mystery, but one she would ponder at a later date.
Once again her mind came back to the fact that he had bitten her. How could that happen? He had the chip, and it obviously hadn't gone off. She remembered the feeling of his lips on her neck, the pull of the blood as he sucked it from her body into his. There had been no screams of pain on his part; he had enjoyed every minute of it.
So what did that mean?
Had the chip failed? The redhead discarded that idea almost immediately. If Spike were ever to lose his metal leash, she would definitely know. The lifeless bodies of her friends and loved ones, found all over town, would probably be her first clue. If she were allowed to live that long.
Then what did that leave?
The one and only conclusion that Willow could come up with was that she had wanted the bite. She had cum when he bit her; that must mean that her body had enjoyed it. Sure, it had hurt a bit, but so had a lot of the things they had done together. And no matter what they'd done, the chip hadn't protested, not even once. And each and every time he hurt her, she had cum – hard.
What kind of person did that make her, Willow wondered? She had made a conscious decision not to examine her actions and reactions while she and Spike were together, and how much she had enjoyed the things they did. Perhaps that had been a mistake. Maybe a little deeper thought wasn't such a bad thing.
Why? That was her first question, and the most persistent one. Why did she let him do those things to her? Whip her, burn her, fuck her?
Was it because she loved him? She rejected the notion immediately. She barely knew him. How could she possibly love him?
Did she like him? Yes, she thought with surprise, she did. Although she really had no idea why. Maybe it was because he had taken the time to look beneath the fake smiles and the false cheerfulness that she projected to the rest of the group lately. He had dug deeper and seen something in her that she hadn't even seen in herself. The need for excitement, danger, and of course, pain.
Willow wasn't naïve enough to think that he had done what he did out of purely selfless motives. Spike got something out of their relationship as well. He got sex, when he wanted it, where he wanted it, with no strings attached. Plus there was the added bonus of finding someone he could hurt, just a little.
Since that night in her dorm room when he had tried to turn her, he had suffered with the knowledge that he could not physically harm anyone. Sure, he could hurt other demons, but what was the fun in that? Willow knew that part of the reason he was attracted to her was because he could hurt her without hurting himself. That gave him a sense of power that he probably hadn't had since the Initiative had kidnapped him, all those months ago. And to a vampire, unlife was all about power. Who had it, who didn't, and how to get more.
Willow sighed, slumping back down in her bed and pulling the warm covers over her head in frustration. All that thinking and personal examination had done was give her a bigger headache; she was no closer to understanding herself and her motives than she had been a half an hour ago.
Well, maybe it had helped a little, the redhead admitted. She had come to the conclusion that she liked what he did to her, and that it really wasn't hurting anyone, other than her of course, which was kind of the point. So that being said, it really wasn't a terrible thing for her to continue with their relationship. At least for now, she decided drowsily.
Might as well go back to sleep she decided, snuggling comfortably into
bed and emptying her mind of complicated questions for which she still
had no answers.
~~~*~~~
Spike sat quietly on the sofa in his crypt. The TV blared in front of him, violence and sound surrounding him, but his thoughts were elsewhere; mostly on a creature with pure green eyes, and the things he had done with her the previous night.
The taste of Willow's blood still danced on his tongue. Sweet and dark, enchanting and overwhelming, the tastes replayed themselves in his mind, as did her soft cries and moans as she came. Came simply because he had bit her.
Every time the slayer mocked him, or the moron got in his face, he would have those tastes and memories to draw upon to keep from killing them all right then and there.
Oh, he'd kill them soon, each and every one of them. He pictured the look of shock on the slayer's face when she realized that the chip was no longer keeping him in line. Then he imagined the scent of her fear, pungent and heady, and the look of defeat in her eyes, as he broke her neck. Anticipating that moment made all the day-to-day bullshit almost bearable.
His thoughts turned back to Willow. She fascinated him. That was the clearest way to put it. He knew that she didn’t love him. But somewhere in the darkness of her soul, there was a part of her that loved what he did to her. She definitely got off on the pain, and since he loved to give it to her, it was a perfect match.
He knew that once the others were dead by his hand, she would hate him. No matter how much she might want to, she would never allow herself to enjoy the pain again. He could take her, keep her captive, and submit her to all manners of torture, but it just wouldn't be the same. The games weren't any fun unless she wanted to play too. Her pain would still be sweet, there was no doubt about that; and her screams would fill his head and her blood would still delight his tongue, but it wouldn't be the same.
The fire would be gone from her eyes and the before long she would be nothing more than a broken toy.
He could turn her, he supposed; he knew he would eventually. Their games would be different then, but enjoyable none-the-less. But he didn’t want to rush things. Might as well enjoy the taste of her sweet warm blood for as long as he could. Blood always tasted different after someone was turned. It was never quite the same. In her case, he imagined that the sweet taste of innocence would no doubt be gone, replaced with something much darker and slightly bitter.
So that meant that he had to keep control of his demon for now. And some days that wasn't as easy as he would like.
The impetuous demon in him wanted the slayer dead now. That part of him craved the rush of the kill, and the knowledge that he had destroyed his third slayer. But the more mature, smarter part of him realized that time was on his side. He would bide his time, and when she was weak and unsuspecting, he would snap her like a twig.
And that was another thought that helped him get through the day.
the End