Author: Kendra A. (kendraangelusslayer@yahoo.com)

Pairing: Willow/Spike, perhaps later Willow/Angel/Spike

Rating: NC-17. Definitely.

Disclaimer: Willow, Spike, Buffy and Tara belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN, Mutant Enemy, and all those other folks. Needless to say, they're not mine; please don't sue.

Feedback: Feedback for me is like chocolate for Buffy-I sure as Hell don't deserve it, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE it.

Author's Notes: I started this on a whim in early May of 2001 and I've only gotten this far, seeing as I have bigger priorities (for those, read my postings of "Morning" and you'll see what I mean-THAT is a big fic). I don't think this is really going anywhere, but I just wanted to get some feedback from y'all and try my hand at writing smut.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  

~Part 1~

The drive to LA was silent. Willow drove, as she did not want Spike to kill her with his reckless driving, although she doubted he would want one of Buffy's gang to die. True, he'd told them so many times how they were at the top of his to-kill list, but she could see in his eyes that he had changed his mind. His love for Buffy had changed him, made him closer, perhaps, to humanity.

She remembered the barely-unshed tears in his eyes when she'd made the sad trip to his crypt to tell him of Joyce Summers' death; really, she knew that he must have cried when she had left him alone. But she had never imagined seeing him so heartbroken as when he'd collapsed to the ground before Buffy's dead body. They'd all cried, but his tears, more than anyone else's, made her ache somewhere deep inside.

She was going to miss Buffy so much.

"I need you, Will. You're my big gun."

"I'm your - no, I-I was never a gun. Someone else should be the gun. I, I could be a, a cudgel. Or, or a pointy stick."

"You're the strongest person here. You know that, right?"

"Well ... no."

"Will, you're the only person that's ever hurt Glory. At all. You're my best shot at getting her on the ropes, so don't get a jelly belly on me now."

Buffy, while she had had her faults, had been Willow's best friend in the world. The countless nights they'd stayed up in their dorm room, trading secrets and laughing and painting their toenails for no reason at two o'clock in the morning.

Willow remembered the time they'd talked about sex. For real, what it felt like. They'd promised each other that the conversation would be serious, and for once, it was. That had been the time Willow had asked Buffy what, exactly, Angel had meant by his, "Well, actually." concerning her-and her doppelganger's-sexuality.

Buffy had not shied away from the question. "I think he mean that somewhere, deep inside maybe, you're bi. Or gay, or something. I think that when we become vampires, we maintain our personalities and our memories and what makes us us." She'd glanced up at Willow then, from the floor where she was painting her toenails a strange shade of pastel blue. "What do you think, Wills? Are you gay?"

Willow, who was sitting on Buffy's bed, picked up Mr. Gordo and worried one of his disturbingly pink ears between her index finger and thumb. "I don't know, Buffy," she'd replied honestly.

Buffy grinned, sensing her nervousness. "Okay, Wills, if you had to choose one gal to screw, who would it be? Would it be me?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Willow returned the smile, tossing Mr. Gordo at Buffy but missing purposefully so as not to mess her friend's nailpolish up. "Nah, Buffster. I go for natural blondes."

Willow adjusted her grip on the steering wheel, blinking back tears as she relived her memories of Buffy. Her best, best friend, who was dead, and Willow had never told her that she was sorry. Sorry for being so cold, sorry for letting Tara near Dawn-she should have realized. Sorry for not figuring out a spell sooner, sorry for everything.

Spike, who sat behind her, studied the redhead's heartbroken reflection in the rearview mirror above her head, knowing he was safe from the same scrutiny.

She and Buffy had seemed so distant to each other lately. Spike wondered if perhaps Willow worried that Buffy blamed Tara, and essentially Willow, for Glory's capture of Dawn, and if Buffy worried that Willow blamed her for Glory's wrecking of Tara. It was quite possible that they'd be caught up in their little paradox for a while, and he'd assumed that once they'd finished Glory off, all would be forgiven.

But Willow and Buffy had never had time alone to talk, and Spike intuitively guessed that Willow was beating herself up for it. "Don't, pet," he said quietly, just enough for her to hear him.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Don't what?"

"You're beatin' yourself up inside, aren't you?"

"I-I-I really don't w-wanna talk about this right now, Spike. I might run us off the road."

"So pull over. You've got to have a peace of mind when you talk to the Pouf. Otherwise you won't be able to tell him and I'll have to, and he might stake me before I'm able."

"Uh, okay," Willow replied softly. "How long will this take?"

"I don't know, luv," came the almost-purred answer. "How wrecked are you?"

"There's a motel the next exit," Willow explained. "So, uh, if you wanna stop there-"

"'S fine," Spike said. "Right lane, then."

The next five minutes were spent in silence, except for the insistent tapping of the rain on the little car's roof and windows. The motel was small and cheap, and run by a white-haired middle-aged sleepy-looking man who yawned their room number to them and slid the keys across the counter.

Spike let Willow putter around for a bit, making coffee in the new and shiny machine on the dressing-table on the wall across from the bed, before he made her stop. "You've got your coffee, Red. Now sit down and tell me about it." He patted the bed next to him.

She sat down cautiously. "Why are you being so nice, Spike?"

"'Cuz the Slayer would've kicked my arse if I wasn't," he replied with a vague smile. Tears sparkled at the corners of his eyes.

"I guess you kind of know how it feels," Willow said, stirring her coffee with a spoon. "You loved her too."

Spike's eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly. "'You loved her too'? Is there something more to this?"

"I wasn't in love with her," Willow clarified, not bothering to get impatient. "But I loved her. You've been a vampire for so long, Spike, I don't know if you can remember what it's like to have a friend."

He frowned. "Hey, I was with Dru for a century-"

"I know," Willow interrupted. "But she was your lover, not your friend. And a difficult one to be with, too."

"Well, we both know what it's like to date loonies," Spike lashed back.

Willow sighed. "I wasn't trying to be mean, Spike," she said sadly. "But it's hard to continue loving someone when they hardly even know your name anymore."

"Dru always knew my name," Spike muttered.

"I know, Spike," Willow said patiently. "But didn't you sometimes find that you had to remind yourself to love her? That she was so beautiful, and sometimes she looked at you and knew who you were-like really did-and perhaps the next day she'd wake up a little saner and you'd hope it was for real-" With barely a warning, Willow began to cry.

Spike gently took her coffee cup and placed it on the bedside table. Then, recalling hastily from the time he'd comforted Buffy, he lightly placed his arm on her back and rubbed his hand in smooth circles. "I tried so hard to love Tara, Spike," she sobbed hopelessly. "She would hit me or throw things, but it wasn't her! Sometimes she'd look at me and say my name and I would see her eyes and know that if I could just find her the way out."

There was a box of napkins on the bedside table. Spike held it under her bowed head, and she giggled in the middle of a sob and pulled a tissue out to blow her nose loudly.

Spike couldn't stop watching her. Her short hair kept getting in the way of her face, so he pushed it behind her ear. Willow was so sad, and he suddenly remembered exactly how she felt.

He'd felt the same way in Brazil, with Dru.

Suddenly her ravings hadn't seemed so sweet, her lack of understanding so endearing. She'd wanted so many things-girls, dresses, dresses with girls in them, jewels, men with jewels on their fingers. She'd even wanted a computer, which she'd destroyed immediately by punching the brain of the thing itself in and claiming it made her feel hot inside.

But she hadn't asked for Angel or Angelus once they'd left California, and it was that which kept him going. The reminder that for once, she wanted him, and he loved her. He had to love her, because he always had.

"I know how you feel, Willow," he said softly, and she looked up abruptly.

"You said my name," she murmured.

"Do what?" he asked blankly.

"You've called me ducks, red, luv, pet, witch, and even Will once or twice," Willow continued, amazed. "But you've never called me Willow."

Spike shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Slip of the tongue, I guess."

She looked at him, her eyes blazing, for one long moment. "Yeah," she said finally. She turned to pick up her coffee again and the moment had been lost.

The rain continued to patter down on the roof of the motel.

*    *    *

When Spike woke up the next morning, the blinds had been pulled and the curtains drawn over them, and the bed next to him was cool and empty, the sheets over it rumpled. When he cocked his ears he could hear the shower going in the bathroom, and soon Willow stepped out, wrapped in only a towel. She bent to her overnight bag, which she'd dropped on the floor next to the bed, and looked up to find Spike staring straight at her.

"Oh! Uh, hi, Spike," she stammered, immediately looking back down and pulling the towel up over her cleavage as she rummaged for some clothes. "I didn't know you were awake, otherwise I'd've-"

"It's fine, pet," he said calmly, enjoying watching her blush. "Go ahead, change, I don't mind."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. I'll be right out of the bathroom, if you wanna use it." She got up, clothes tucked under her arm, and turned for the bathroom.

A trillion thoughts whizzed through Spike's brain.

He knew he loved Buffy, but right now he was lonely. Willow was lonely too, like she'd practically slapped him over the head with last night, and she knew she didn't love Tara anymore.

Here he was, half-naked in a motel room where nobody could find him, in the presence of an extremely lovely, extremely naked woman.

It didn't take him very long to make his decision.

Before Willow could reach the bathroom, Spike's hand was on her shoulder. "Wanna come back to bed, luv?"

Her breath caught. "W-what? Spike, what are you doing?"

He kissed the curve of her neck. "Don't you want to make the pain go away?" he asked. His arm traveled around her body to her breasts, where the towel was folded over and her tightly clenched hand kept it closed. "I know that I can help you, just for a little while."

Willow could feel her heart speeding up, and she struggled to breathe normally, to think rationally. "Sp-spike, we can't."

"Why not?" he asked casually, letting his tongue flick out and lick away apple-scented drops of water that dripped from her wet hair.

"T-Tara," she whispered, refusing to let her legs buckle. "And Buffy."

Spike sighed against her skin, making her shiver. "You don't love Tara anymore," he told her quietly. And he was truly sad when he reminded her, "And Buffy's dead."

"I don't think we should," she continued, closing her eyes.

"Just for a little while?" Spike almost-begged, placing his hand over hers and moving her unresisting thumb away from the fold of her towel.

Willow lifted her other arm and loosened her towel until it fell to a sad, damp pile at her feet. "Just for a little while," she agreed breathlessly. She turned around, pressing her body to his, and let him kiss her.

His lips were smooth and cool, and he seemed to steal the air from her lungs every time his lips met hers even for a second. One hand tangled in her short, still dripping-wet hair, and the other hand seemed content to rest on her hips, just above the curve of her behind.

Her own hands were far from idle as she slid them down his thighs, hooking his boxers with them. "Off. Now," she murmured against his greedy lips, and he gripped her shoulder as he lowered his hand from her hair to pull his boxers down.

Somehow, they managed to land on the bed, and Willow opened her eyes. Spike had not opened his, and he was kissing her all over her face, nuzzling her chin every once in a while. He peppered her cheeks with kisses almost desperately, every once in a while returning to her mouth until her lips were swollen and it was almost impossible for her to breathe.

Willow was so overwhelmed with him she could barely respond beyond gripping his biceps tightly with her fingers and trying to make him really kiss her. Finally she regained enough sense to grab the back of his head with one hand and guide him back to her lips. He calmed down just a little, enough to stop his frenzied teasing and to explore her mouth. His tongue darted out to sweep along the inside of her upper lip and then across her bottom row of teeth.

Slowly, hesitantly, Willow shifted on the bed and spread her legs for him, praying he wouldn't suddenly be struck with some sense of nobility and change his mind. She almost had a heart attack when he stopped kissing her and leaned her forehead against hers, breathing hard. "You sure, pet?" he asked, and kissed her nose.

She smiled. "Of course."

The grin on his face was infectious. He kissed her again, and moved so his knee was in between her legs. One hand moved from where it was pressed into the pillow next to her ear to the juncture between her thighs. She gasped sharply when he drew his thumb along her slick lips, testing her. His hand moved up again, and he never stopped kissing her as he spread her legs with his knee and slowly entered her.

It hurt.

Willow gasped a little and he stopped, worried. "Sorry," she whispered. "It's just."

"Been awhile?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curving up.

She giggled slightly. "Yeah."

They lay there for a little while as she adjusted to the feel of him, and then she arched up and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

"You okay?" Spike's voice was husky.

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed against his lips, and he pressed his lips to hers almost harshly has he began to move within her.

His frenzied kissing began again, but Willow was too caught up in the feelings he was causing to care much. He was nuzzling her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her neck and kissing her tightly closed eyelids and attacking her mouth, and she was able to respond in kind.

She arched her hips up to meet his and caught his rhythm, gasping along with their thrusts. He found her mouth again and slid his lips to hers, nibbling a little on her bottom lip as they moved. He was saying something, and it took her awhile to realize it enough to listen.

"Are you almost there, baby?" She nodded and dug the tips of her fingers into the tightly corded muscles in his biceps, breathing hard.

"Almost. ah."

And then suddenly, she snapped. She came with a gasp, the euphoric feelings of pleasure overriding her usual screaming tendencies.

Spike thrust a few more times and slid into his game face, breathing hard. Knowing he hadn't come and pretty sure why, Willow clutched the back of his head and pushed him forward until his lips were just above her neck. "It's okay, Spike," she whispered. "I want you to."

He did not ask her if she was sure. He licked her neck and then he slid his fangs into her, and the taste of her sweet blood threw him over the edge.

To her surprise, the bite was far more pleasurable than painful and pushed Willow into another orgasm. She bucked up to meet his last thrust and then fell back to the sweat-soaked mattress, pressing Spike's face to her neck.

It took a while for them both to calm down. Willow felt like she'd just sprinted ten miles and could not breathe, and Spike was caught up in a demon/human battle of wills to not drain Willow.

Her blood had a vintage tang. There was something about it that called to him more than anything else ever had, and it was hard to pull away. The thing that decided him at last was the aching in his head which meant he was beginning to hurt her, and for some reason the thought of that was suddenly repulsive to him. He lay on top of her for a while, bracing most of his weight on his forearms, licking at the slowly bleeding wounds on her neck as she sighed contentedly.

Spike slowly lowered himself to the bed next to her, keeping one arm firmly tucked around her waist, still kissing the bites on her neck. <Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.>

Willow sighed contentedly and turned to face him, sliding her hand along his arm and pulling herself closer to him. He wrapped both arms around her and crushed her to his chest. She smiled and kissed him right below his collarbone.

"It's daylight," she speculated tentatively. "I guess we're just stuck here all day then, aren't we?"

He glanced down at her, caught her unsure gaze and smiled comfortingly. "Yeah," he agreed quickly. "I s'pose we are. Whatever shall we do?"  

~Part 2~

The car ride going home from L.A. was uneventful.

Willow was just relieved that Angel hadn't seemed to notice that she and Spike had had sex. several times. recently. His distraction was a good explanation for that-he was concentrating on the fact that oh, the love of his life had died!-and not who his childe was or was not shagging.

Willow grimaced and rubbed her temples. Angry thoughts weren't going to get her anywhere. It was just. she was sore. Really, really sore, and she was tired and confused and she missed Buffy. She wasn't sure how, but the Slayer always had some idea of what to do, even if it was silly and random and not very helpful. A big, crushing hug from Buffy would set everything right, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Willow shifted in her seat and grimaced, stifling the whimper that leapt from her throat. Sex with Spike had been amazing-more than, even-but they'd gone at it so many times, and so quickly too. And she hadn't had sex with a guy in over a year. She felt like an overworked virgin and it wasn't fair.

"Pet?" Spike looked worried, and Willow realized she was close to tears and almost completely biting through her bottom lip.

She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. "Yes, Spike?"

"What's wrong?" He sounded genuinely concerned. Willow hesitated, unsure of how much she could tell him. He'd probably be understanding enough of her Buffy-missage and her worry over her impending breakup with Tara, but would he laugh at her if she admitted how much she hurt, physically? Willow honestly was not sure.

She exhaled with a tired sigh. "Nothing," she said reluctantly.

There was a shuffling and then Spike leaned between the two front seats, his duster drawn over his head, though the rented car's windows were tinted. Willow darted a glance sideways at him and was surprised at the confusion that marred his handsome face. "Willow?"

She groaned and shook her head again. "Can we stop again?" she asked meekly.

Spike looked even more confused. "Yeah, sure."

The motel they pulled over to looked exactly the same as the one they'd stopped at the night before. Willow might have sworn it was the same except that it was on the other side of the highway and the person who handed them their keys was a gangly teenaged guy rather than a sleepy old man. The boy ogled Willow unashamedly and then gave a thumbs-up to Spike when the vampire ran from the car to the room with his duster shielding him from the sun.

Willow scowled and followed Spike a little more slowly.

He was lurking in a corner of the room where the glaring sunlight didn't reach. Willow closed the door behind herself and pulled down the shades. They both stood there awkwardly for a long moment until Spike took off his duster, sat down on the bed and said, "What's wrong, luv?"

He sounded so worried; he peered at her with those fathomless blue eyes and Willow found herself cracking. "Oh."

Spike's eyes widened at the wistfulness in her voice, and her held out his arms to her. She gratefully took his hands and leaned against him, though she still stood, albeit a little crookedly.

"Hey now," Spike said with a bit of a pout in his voice, and tugged on her a little to pull her into his lap. Willow grinned and let herself collapse against him, but forgot about her newly acquired soreness and gasped as she sat.

Spike's grip tightened on her momentarily and he leaned his chin on her shoulder. "You okay?"

<What the hell,> thought Willow. "Sore," she confessed.

Spike didn't look remotely pissed off, as Willow had feared he might. Instead he grinned at her. "*Sore*, eh?" He leaned back and rolled them onto the mattress, but oh-so-gently so that Willow didn't aggravate her. painful spots again.

"My woman's. sore?" he murmured against her cheek, and kissed her softly, slipping his tongue between her lips.

Willow smiled and kissed him back, nibbling on his lips. <His woman, huh?> His torso was heavy against hers but their pelvises weren't touching at all. She laid her hands on his biceps and felt the muscles twitch ever so slightly. <Hah! So I make him fluttery too, do I?.>

It was just when his calloused fingers began to make short work of the buttons on her shirt that Willow hesitated. "Spike." she murmured against his lips.

"Mmmm?" He seemed slightly distracted. "You taste. sweet."

Willow grinned but was insistent. "Spike!"

He made a disappointed sound against her lips and looked up. "Yes.?"

"I don't. I don't think I can." Willow gestured helplessly towards her groin.

The smile he bestowed upon her was purely mischievous. "Oh, sweet." He nuzzled the bite marks on her neck, and she shivered. "This has absolutely nothing to do with *me*."

Willow frowned and furrowed her brow. "Wha. Oh!" She blushed.

"Oh indeed," observed Spike. "This one's for you, baby."

"That was quite possibly the corniest remark you could have made," Willow commented. Spike scowled at her and dove for her mouth again.

It was not long at all until her shirt was on the hideously patterned carpet beside the bed. Willow felt herself relaxing as Spike kissed her deeply. Their romps yesterday had been, although undeniably satisfying, quite rough, and the way Spike was treating her now made it clear that this time was not to be like the others.

Spike's fingers roamed idly along her arm and across the soft round peaks of her breasts. Willow sighed into his mouth and she could feel his lips curve in a grin.

As he stroked her breasts gently, Spike lowered his pelvis almost tentatively until their hips were just touching. Almost unnoticeably, Willow and Spike began to rock against each other.

It was only when Willow's soft sighs became moans that Spike stopped kissing her mouth and trailed his lips softly down her neck to her collarbone. Her frame was so delicate-long and graceful. Willow could just make out his whispered "Lovely." against her collarbone before his attentions were diverted to far more interesting things.

Her bra was dark green cotton, and her skin was lily-white in contrast to it. "This thing is adorable," Spike said apologetically, "But it's going to have to go. Lift up!" Willow obediently arched her back and Spike fumbled with the clasp for a moment until it came undone.

Without warning, Spike's cool lips were on her breast and Willow arched into the fleeting touch with a gasp. Spike nuzzled the valley between her breasts and breathed in deeply. "You act sweet," he growled, turning his head sideways to kiss her again. "You look sweet, you smell sweet, you taste so sweet and innocent it's like a drug. But." He looked up and Willow met his eyes. "You're such a bloody wildcat in bed it's mad." Willow grinned shyly and Spike leaned upwards on his hands to kiss her lips again. "What are you doing to me?" he asked almost desperately, but his voice was so low that Willow didn't hear it.

Spike pulled away from her again and sat up so that he could concentrate on easing her jeans off of her long legs. Willow complacently lifted each leg in turn and soon her jeans had joined her bra and shirt in the careless pile on the floor.

Spike would have continued on nonchalantly but she was so beautiful it was hypnotizing. "I never thought a woman in white cotton panties could be so alluring," he said as he bent to kiss her eager mouth again.

"Is that an insult to my choices in lingerie?" Willow growled, but she smiled back at him and entangled her tongue with his.

"These," Spike insisted, "Have got to come off." Willow lifted her hips and he dragged the soft cotton down her legs and tossed her panties to the floor. He bent at the end of the bed and studied her.

The day before, they'd been in such a hurry that he hadn't had much of a chance to see her. He'd known she was pretty enough-he could feel it in the softness of her thighs as she wrapped them around his hips, seen it in the creamy skin of her neck before he sank his teeth into her, smelt it in the apple-scent of her hair as it spread behind her on the pillow. But here in this dreary motel room, just like the one they'd shared before, spread out so trustingly before him and looking up at him with questions in her eyes, Spike could swear he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

"Spike.?" Willow was beginning to get a little freaked out. He'd taken off her panties and then just stopped and stared at her with an undecipherable look on his face. They'd hardly studied each other yesterday, just gone at it and that was all. Was she. was he having second thoughts? "Spike?"

He shook his head and met her eyes. "Pet?"

"What's wrong? Should I.?" Willow gestured at her abandoned clothing on the floor.

A look of complete horror crossed Spike's face at the very idea. "What? No!"

Willow wrinkled her brow in confusion. "But. you looked.  Am I not pretty enough?" Willow knew she sounded hurt and desperate, but she had no idea what he was thinking, and that was scaring her.

Spike was shocked at the very idea that Willow might think she wasn't pretty. "You're gorgeous, Willow," he assured her, and reached out a hand to hesitantly touch her.

Willow had no idea what was going on, but if she'd been forced to choose a word in her huge vocabulary to describe the expression that graced Spike's features, she would have said. reverent. "Spike?" Timid. Pathetic.

Spike looked up again with a jerk as if he'd been concentrating very hard on something. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed quietly, and Willow felt the corners of her mouth turning up.

"Really?" At Spike's wordless nod, she scooted down the bed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "What's wrong, then?" she asked, and drew him down for another kiss.

He returned her actions with ardor and leaned forward, easing them backwards onto the bed again. His hands tangled in her hair and pressed her to him. Willow's long-fingered hands slid down his back and into the waistband of his black jeans to pull the hem of his shirt away. "Red." sighed Spike.

"Mmmm?"

"This is for you. don't be undressing me or I don't know if I can control myself."

"You're much more intimidating looming over me with all that clothing on," Willow said, pouting. "It would be enough to make me. freeze up?"

Spike rolled his eyes but had to admit her argument was a good one. He lifted his arms and let her draw his black T-shirt over his head. "*Much* better," Willow said contentedly, and kissed his chest.

"Uh-uh," Spike admonished her. "Lie back down."

That didn't sound so bad. Willow did, shimmying backwards up the bed until her head rested on the pillow again. There wasn't enough room on the short bed for her long-legged figure and Spike as well, so she spread her legs slightly and bent them, catching the look of desire in Spike's eyes as he caught a whiff of her arousal.

"Well, well. What have we here?" Spike stalked to her on his hands and knees, stopping at her bent legs. He gently placed a hand on either knee and spread her legs farther apart. He nonchalantly moved between them and bent forward to place a sloppy kiss on Willow's flat stomach. All of the muscles of her abdomen tensed at that touch. "We're tightly wound, aren't we?" Spike inquired, and eased backwards again, hunkering down to blow softly across the soft, downy brown hair at the crux of her legs.

Willow shivered and shifted slightly where she lay. "Spread your legs a bit more, pet," Spike said softly. <'Spread your legs,' he says,> Willow thought, mentally rolling her eyes. <Oh, well. That is something I can do.>

Spike grinned as her moist center came into view, spread open before him. He reached out a calloused finger and stroked her outer lips gently, loving the low gasp that he elicited from her. The petals of her sex were swollen, the small nub of her clitoris red and abused. "Oh, pet," he sighed, blowing cool air across her.

"Spike." Willow gasped.

"You *do* look sore," Spike observed. "Good idea to do this, then," and he bent his head to give her a long, slow lick.

"Spike!" This time it was more a groan than gasp, and Spike grinned before sliding his tongue along her center again. She tasted sweet, which was no surprise at all, but also a little spicy, reminiscent of nutmeg. Spike leaned forward and slipped his tongue inside of her, relishing the throaty moan that brought forth as she bucked up into his touch.

Spike pressed forward, nuzzling his nose against her clit and letting his true face surface as her rich scent surrounded him. He licked all along her slit, letting his shoulders absorb the shudders that coursed through Willow's body.

Gently Spike slid a hand up her thigh and down her hip to her center. Since she was so sore, he wasn't sure if this would hurt or not, but if it did, he'd stop and apologize in the best way he knew how, which he was quite sure Willow would enjoy.

Slowly, he spread her pink wet lips with two fingers of his left hand and slid one of the fingers of his right hand into her. Willow stiffened. "Okay, pet? D'you want me stop?"

Willow let out her breath in a long, shuddering sigh. "No-keep. keep going."

Spike grinned and kissed the inside of one creamy thigh. "Tell me if I hurt you, luv. I'll stop."

"Keep going," Willow said firmly.

Spike licked her clit tenderly as he moved his finger deeper into her. No wonder she was sore-his single finger barely had room to move in her tight channel. He tentatively crooked his finger inside of her, brushing up against her slick wet walls. Willow groaned and her muscles clamped down on him. Spike's eyes nearly crossed as he came to a whole new understanding of the term "tight". "Jesus, Willow," he moaned, rubbing his jeans-clad erection against the bed.

"Spike." Willow choked, and thrust her hips against him. "Spike, please."

Spike wriggled his finger inside of her and sucked on her clit, flicking his tongue down to her throbbing center to taste her. "Willow."

"Please!"  Willow cried.

Spike winced as he squeezed a second finger into her clenching channel and nuzzled her harder until she came to a shuddering peak.

His mouth was flooded with her sweet juices as she convulsed against his tongue and fingers, and he licked from her anus to her clit in a single smooth movement to collect every drop.

"Spike." Willow sighed and held her arms out to him.

Spike rose from between her legs and crawled along the bed to her, gently lowering himself onto her. "Ssh, pet." He was distressed to find she was crying. "What's wrong?"

She pulled him closer to her and buried her face in the smooth muscles of his chest. "I never. nobody. not like that."

"Ssh," Spike whispered. He held her against him and bent his head to lick at the tears that rolled down her cheeks. "'S'okay, Willow."

Willow coughed a little and stopped sobbing, though the crying didn't cease. "Nobody else has *ever* made me come like that," she murmured.

Spike forced a grin. "Fine, then-we knew I had superior sexual prowess to anyone you could dig up, yeh?"

She smacked him lightly. "Spike. I meant, I've been sore before, but they didn't notice, or, or care. Or ask if I was okay, or anything. And you did, and it means a lot. That's all."

"Yeah, well," Spike muttered, a little distressed. Crying females unnerved him. He settled on trailing his fingers up and down her arm. "Ssh."

"Spike?"

"Yeh?"

"I don't know why-yesterday, you were able to." Willow gestured at the neat set of bitemarks that marred the smooth column of her neck. "You know, bite me. But, uh, I didn't mind." She blushed. "It felt pretty good. And you didn't drain me, and you came because you bit me, right? So if you wanna-again."

Spike blinked, dumbfounded. "You're inviting me to bite you?"

Willow nodded. "If you can, still."

"Pet-"

Willow looked up at him hopefully, her green eyes huge in her pale face.

"You're completely mad, you know that, asking a vampire to bite you."

Willow's face fell. "I. I just thought, because you didn't-it wasn't fair-"

"You don't have to *trade* with me, Willow," Spike growled.

Willow looked surprised. "Yes-I do. Otherwise, it's not, it's not fair!"

"Don't you believe in favors?"

"I give favors, I don't get them," Willow said.

"What I just did, Willow, I did for you, not to bribe you to let me bite you again!"

"I never *said* it was a bribe!" Willow retorted. "I'm just trying to make you happy, okay?"

Spike paused before he continued his tirade and studied her. She looked hurt and upset and terribly confused.

"You don't need to *try* to make me happy," Spike said softly. "You just do."

Willow looked up to meet his level blue stare. "Really?"

"Yeah." Spike kissed her on the tip of her nose. "C'mere and we'll get some shut-eye, huh?"

Willow smiled gratefully at him and settled in his arms, and they slept the day away together.  

~Part: 3~

“Willow, Spike. The two of you look much better.”Giles gave each of them a quick up-and-down glance to assure himself that allof their Glory-induced injuries were gone, and smiled faintly.

“Yeh, Red’s lil’ healing spell kicked inabout five minutes into the ride—the rest of you? You’re all right?”

The amount of caring he had for these humans made Spikevaguely ill, but it couldn’t be denied that Xander made him chuckle, Anyaknew some spectacular torture methods, Giles’ obsession with “Passions”almost transcended Spike’s own, and the Lil’ Bit was just adorable.And Willow was… Willow.

And they were Buffy’s little posse, and no matter howhard he’d tried not to, in the past year he’d gotten attached tothe whole bloody lot of them.

“Yes,” Anya said in response to Spike’squery. “My arm is no longer tragically and painfully broken.” Sheflourished her left hand in Spike’s direction. A ring she wore on herfinger caught the light and flashed in Spike’s eyes. He nodded at her.

“Chubs? Watcher? Niblet?”

They all replied in the affirmative. Willow stood quietly byhis side, clutching her overnight bag. “Guys—it’s kinda late…are we gonna turn in or do another slumber party at the super-Watcher’s?”

On the night of Glory’s defeat and Buffy’s deaththe gang had been too heartsick, too injured and too afraid of the dark toretreat to their own homes. Instead, Giles had opened all of his closets tofind a surprising number of extra pillows and blankets and they’d all—includingSpike—camped in a shivering, tearful pile on the floor. Except Tara—she’dgone back to the dorm—Spike remembered Willow being a little upset bythat.

And where was the blonde witch, anyway?

“W-where’s Tara?” Willow asked meekly,voicing Spike’s own thoughts, before anyone had a chance to decide wherethey were going to sleep for the night.

Dawn looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears;Xander shifted uneasily, and Giles closed his book and turned to face Willowand Spike with a tired look on his face. Anya spoke first.

“She came by, yesterday, when you and Spike were inL.A.,” she said, and then her face bore a vestige of sympathy and hervoice softened. “She said she was going home. To her family.”

Willow looked shocked. “B-but she doesn’t—Tara*hates* her family!” she protested.

“She said to tell you that she’d miss you,”Xander said gently, stepping forward gingerly. “But that all of this—ourScooby Gang stuff—was too dangerous, it scared her too much.”

Willow let out a sigh that seemed to completely deflate her.“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Willow.” Dawn’s meekexpression of sympathy drew Willow’s gaze. The Key was wrapped loosely ina cocoon of knit blankets on the couch. An abandoned cup full of tea sat on thefloor by the foot. Willow smiled slightly and crossed the room to sit by Dawn.

“How’re you holding up, Dawnie?”

Dawn made some sort of gesture with her head, and Willowsighed again. “I don’t feel like going back to the dorms quite yet,Giles,” she said, still staring at Dawn’s sad face.

“The apartment’s gonna seem a little big,”Xander said helpfully.

“Crypt doesn’t look too welcoming,” Spikeadded.

“The blankets are dumped rather unceremoniously on topof my bed,” Giles said primly. “If Spike and Xander would like tobring them and the army of pillows down here, we can set up camp.” Hefavored them all with a slight grin.

*   * *  

Dawn woke early. A glance at the clock revealed the time tobe just six thirty.

She sighed and sat up, lifting her head from Xander’schest. Anya snored softly on his other side, her chin resting on his shoulder.

A quick glance around the room proved everything to be allright—as all right as could be, anyway. Giles grunted a little in hissleep and rolled over, nearly falling off the couch; his tall frame was toolong for the worn, if loved, furniture and his feet were propped up on the arm.His socks were revealed to be a stuffy British brown-and-white plaid.

Willow and Spike were there, if in a compromising position.Dawn wondered how they’d react when they awoke, and how on earth they’dgotten so intertwined in the first place. Their bodies were curled around eachother—Willow’s head was bent to rest on top of Spike’s, andhis cheek was pillowed on her chest, which rose and fell with the witch’ssoft breathing. Willow’s arms encircled Spike’s shoulders, while heembraced her waist, and their legs were tangled together beneath the light blueblanket that covered them. Most interesting.

Dawn giggled softly despite herself, and Xander woke with asleepy “Wha…?”

“’G morning, Xander,” Dawn whispered.

He blinked sleep out of his eyes and looked up at her. “Dawnie.What time is it?”

Dawn made a face. “Early.”

“Yuck.” Xander eased out from under Anya, whosighed a little and gathered a pillow to her chest to replace his warm form. “Everybodyokay?”

It sucked that first thing everybody thought of was to checkto see if their friends were still alive. Or, in Spike’s case, undead.Dawn shook her head. “Everyone’s fine. Check out Willow and Spike.”

Xander sat up, scratching his unruly brown hair, andchuckled. “Hah.”

Dawn grinned. “Think we should wake ‘em up andsave them the embarrassment?”

Xander considered, and then shook his head. “Nah. Theylook surprisingly comfy-cozy, don’t they?”

As if to punctuate that remark, Willow murmured somethingunder her breath and moved her hand to entwine it in Spike’s bleachedhair. Spike shifted slightly at her touch and nuzzled further between herbreasts.

“Hey there, buddy. Watch it!” Xander muttered. “That’smy friend you’re groping!”

Dawn giggled. “Want breakfast?”

Xander glanced at the clock, which now read seven fifteen. “Ugh.I guess. We could always make breakfast again at a more decent hour.”

Dawn shrugged. “I’m all for it. I think Gileshas some Rice Krispies somewhere…”

“I’m on it,” Xander said, scrambling tohis feet. He bent to help Dawn up, and they retreated to the kitchen.

Three hours, six card games, seven bowls of cereal (five ofthem consumed by Xander), forty-three games of rocks-paper-scissors and fifteencat’s cradles later, the prone bodies in the living room began to stir.Xander rolled his eyes. “Took ‘em long enough.”

“You’re telling me,” Dawn muttered. “Iwanna see what Willow and Spike do!”

They both twisted around to look over the kitchen counterand into the living room. They were just able to see over the couch (with Gilesupon it) and onto the floor where Spike and Willow were beginning to stir.

Willow opened her eyes first and sighed, stretchingever-so-slighty, which in itself was impressive as she was so knotted up withSpike. She craned her neck to look down and just crooked an eyebrow and snortedat the vampire who had decided to use her breasts as a convenient pillow. “Spike,you dork, wake up,” she whispered.

Spike made a grumpy sleepy noise and rubbed his face furtherinto her bosom. Willow rolled her eyes. “I know you’re awake, youundead bleached moron,” she hissed into his ear, and then she must haveuttered some dire threat that Xander and Dawn couldn’t hear, for in thenext instant Spike’s head was a decent distance from Willow’scleavage and his eyes were open.

“Morning, Red.”

“I have the *worst* crick in my neck,” Willowsaid. “Would you mind letting go of my waist?”

Spike did. Willow unlocked her arms from around hisshoulders and they got the jumble of their legs figured out quickly enough.Spike didn’t make any rude comments and Willow didn’t blush.

Clueless as to Spike and Willow’s more secretrelationship, Xander and Dawn were sorely disappointed at the lack ofinexplicable-position-waking-up-acrobatics.

“That’s *all*?” scowled Dawn.

“How boring,” said Xander. “Want more RiceKrispies?”  

~Part: 4~

“I *hate* demon slime!” Willow howled as she andSpike emerged, sticky, from the battered back De Soto.

“I hate it more,” Spike retorted. “Do youhave any idea what shit it is to get Eqora slime out of leather?”

Willow rolled her eyes and scratched irritably at the thicklayers of slime that coated her skin. “Tell me again why the car’sstopped?” she demanded.

“Ran out of gas,” Spike scowled.

Willow groaned and began to squirm. “This stuff really*fucking* itches,” she whimpered. “Screw going home. Can we justcrash at a motel and have Xander pick us up in the morning?”

“I’ve got slime under my bloody*fingernails*!” Spike hissed. “What do you think I think?”

“First one to the motel gets the shower,” Willowsaid, and they both began to run.

Vampiric speed is one thing, and witchy speed is another,but in the end they got there at the same time, and stood bickering in front ofthe receptionist’s desk. The thirty-something woman who sat there couldonly watch them in silence for a few moments before gathering her courage andyelling, “That’ll be forty-three dollars and sixty cents!”

Spike threw his credit card at her irritably and turned backto Willow. “There is no *bleeding* way I’m going to wait for you toscrub all of that shit of your perfect porcelain skin before I get myturn!” he growled.

Willow growled right back, “Well there is no‘bleeding way’ I’m going to sit around and get a skin rashfrom this stuff while you take your sweet time washing your hair!”

“Here’s your credit card, sir,” thereceptionist said meekly. Spike snatched it from her hand and he and Willowstomped side-by-side to the door to their room. Together they shoved it openand stood panting in the middle of the drab space.

Finally, Willow sighed, shrugged and said, “Wannashare?”

“Fine with me.”

They both began tearing off their clothes, which provedeasier said than done as the slime from the aforementioned Eqora demon stucktheir clothes to their skin like superglue.

From a balanced perspective, however, this wasn’t allbad.

“Here, pet, let me help you with that,” Spikeoffered, vamping out and leaning forward to delicately tear Willow’sT-shirt down the center with his fangs.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Willow said sweetly.“You seem to be having trouble with your pants. Would you like someassistance?” She moved to put her hand over Spike’s, as he had beentrying desperately to work the slime-stuck zipper of his jeans, and a warm glowpulsed over his crotch. Spike moaned as the zip came loose.

“All right, Red, that’s it,” Spike said afew minutes later, getting sick of Willow struggling with her panties, whichwere inconveniently stuck to her bottom. He slid a finger carefully between thecotton and her skin and worked the fabric loose until she was able to pull herunderwear off and stand naked in front of him.

And then they were tightly in each other’s arms,trying to find various anatomical parts amidst the sludge as well as trying tomaneuver towards the bathroom. “Wait! Wait,” Willow muttered,disentangling herself from Spike’s muscled figure. “We have to callGiles and Dawn and Xander and let them know we’re okay.”

“Call the Watcher and let him call the rest ofthem,” Spike growled.

“Sounds good,” Willow said breathlessly. Shedialed Giles’ number and sat on the bed, bouncing a little as the phoneon the other end of the line rang. “Giles? Hey, it’s Willow.”

Spike turned and stalked into the bathroom.

“Yeah, we’re at a motel—What? No, Idon’t mind. Yes, there’s only one bed, but I’m surewe’ll survive somehow… His car ran out of gas. Can you believe it?I’m gonna stake him, I swear.”

Spike poked his head from the bathroom, where the showercould be heard running, and scowled.

“I’ve gotta go. Shower. This slime is *so*disgusting… No, I did *not* let Spike go first—We’reshowering at the same—That is, uh, the motel is letting us use twodifferent showers because we’re such a mess.”

Willow turned bright red and smiled at Spike.

“Yes, yes, I know. I need to go wash myhair—I’m afraid it might start falling out soon. *Joking*, Giles,I’m *joking*… Okay. Uh, okay… Call Xander and Dawn for me?Thanks. Yes. Okay. Goodnight, Giles! Bye. *Bye*.”

She slammed the phone down, not noticing as it fell off thecharger, and rushed to the bathroom door to join Spike. He grabbed her hand anddragged her in with him, and pulled her up into his arms just as he maneuveredthem both under the hot water.

Willow sighed into Spike’s mouth as he shifted to wrapher legs around his waist and press her back up against the shower wall. Hekissed her mouth, hard, and she returned the action with fervor. His tongueswept along her teeth, and one of her hands let go its grip on his tenseshoulder to snake its way up into… Spike’s eewy, gooey, demon-slimeyhair.

No matter how hot Spike was—no matter what a goodlover, or how his voice made her tingle—Willow simply could not find thestrength within herself to have sex with a man covered in Eqora demon slime.“Spike,” she mumbled. He paused mid-smooch and arched a darkeyebrow at her. “Spike, believe me, you are an incredibleman—vampire—demon—whatever, but you’re *covered* indemon slime, and that is as far from a turn-on as you can get.”

He chuckled and stepped back slightly, letting her unlock herslippery legs from around his waist and slide to the floor. “Well,*you*”, he replied, “Are just about the cutest thing on two legs,but you’re absolutely disgusting right now.”

“Was that a compliment or an insult?” Willowwanted to know. She tilted her head back to catch the hot shower spray on herface.

“Sort of both,” Spike muttered. “What saywe wash off a little before we—ahem—get intimate?”

“Sounds lovely,” Willow replied, beaming. Shehanded Spike the shampoo and took the bar of soap for herself.

Spike squirted a ridiculous amount of the shampoo into acupped hand and began massaging it into his hair. He kept his eyes tightly shutas he tried to finger-comb the worst of the goo away.

Willow snickered slightly. “Afraid of getting soap inyour eyes?”

Spike scowled but refused to open his eyes. “Hey, thisstuff *hurts*.”

“And you call yourself the Big Bad,” the redheadscoffed. “Give me the shampoo.”  

*   * *  

Due to Spike’s silly insistence that no man spent morethan ten minutes in the shower (and Willow’s assertion than no womanspent *less*), Spike was out first, relieved to be squeaky clean.

Though his mind *would* insist on drifting back to Willow’sslender water-slicked body, there were more important issues at hand, one ofthe most prominent being that they had no clothing.

The vampire scowled, wrapped one of the ridiculously tinytowels around his waist, and stalked to the reception desk at the front of themotel.

The hapless woman behind the desk who had been staring withglazed eyes at the screen of her archaic computer snapped to attention whenSpike appeared. “Sir?”

Spike gestured at her uniform. “Don’t supposeyou have any more of those?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Spike snorted. “D’you have any extra scrubslying about, you twit? Me and my girl don’t have wearable clothes.”

The woman gave Spike an appreciative up-and-down look. “SoI see.”

Spike decided he simply could not take any more of this anddecided to go for suave and persuasive. Vamping out, he grinned and said, “Extrauniforms. One for me, and one for my girl in there. She probably wears a sizemedium. Hop to it.”

The receptionist hopped.

Ten minutes later, laden with extra towels, complementarytoothbrushes, the uniforms, some stain remover, and some hand cream, Spike bidthe woman a polite “Good night,” and turned to go back to the room.

He turned back quickly and, shifting the necessaries in hisarms so he could clutch at the towel around his waist to keep it closed, Spike said,“Hey—one more thing.”

The cowering receptionist gave her best sincere smile, whichwasn’t much good at all. “Yes?”

“Got a hairbrush?”

Willow was still in the shower when Spike got back to theroom, so he pulled on what could loosely be called ‘pants’ (if thecritic were in a good mood) and made a face. These uniforms were by no meansattractive, menacing, dignified, or sexy. Spike usually tried for all four butwould on occasion settle for a mere one or two.

Damn it.

He flopped onto the bed and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Never known for his patience, Spike was starting to getdownright antsy. What on earth was *taking* the woman so long? “*Willow*!”he bellowed, unable to contain himself any longer.

Willow emerged from the bathroom, looking as dignified assomeone barely covered by a vaguely white-ish towel could. “I was*trying* to comb my hair.”

“Here.” He tossed her the brush.

The gratitude in Willow’s eyes was almostpreposterous. “*Thank* you, Spike,” she said. “I hatetangles.”

“Got clothes, too,” Spike informed her, smug. Heindicated the uniform he’d obtained for her.

Willow skipped over to him and planted a light kiss on hisnose. “You’re my savior.” She put down the brush and pulledthe shirt on over her head. It was huge, and came down past her thighs, but wasfar better than nothing.

“Sit, luv,” Spike said, and brandished the brushat her. Willow grinned and let him run his fingers through her hair as shenestled between his legs.

He then proceeded to give her the most gently grooming she’dever experienced. He was light-fingered with the brush and saw tangles almost beforehe encountered them. He never pulled at her scalp, though he did give hertemples a very short, and very welcome, massage. By the time Spike was done,Willow’s hair was nearly dry, brushed in smooth waves to her shoulders,and Willow was reduced to a puddle of goo (not literally, of course) under hishands.

“Willow?”

“*Mmmmmmmmm*,” was all she could manage. Spikechuckled. He stood and bent to lift her into his arms.

“Hey, you,” he said softly. She indulged him witha slow smile. “Wake up.”

“I’m awake, sort of,” Willow said. “DoI ever tell you how much I appreciate you?”

“Does that mean I’m not going to be getting any?”Spike asked, putting his best ‘sad-puppy’ face into action.

“I’m too tired,” Willow confessed, andgiggled at the disappointment in his blue eyes. “I’ll still kissyou, though.”

“Sounds lovely.” Spike let her plop into bed andthen he joined her, pulling the sheets over the both of them and kicking theblankets to the floor.

“C’mere,” Willow said, and laced herfingers in his still-damp locks before pulling his face down to hers. She couldfeel him smile against her lips before he gently swept his tongue across them.She opened her mouth for him, and they spent the next few hours in quiet, comfybliss.  

~Part: 5~

“Spike?”

The crypt was dark and cool, as it usually was, and it was agreat relief from the swelteringly hot summer day outside.

“Are you in here?”

Willow stretched slightly, spreading her arms a little,pushing out her chest and rising to the balls of her feet. “Mmm…”

“Why, hello, little girl,” Spike purred from theshadows in the back of the crypt.

Willow rolled her eyes at him but strolled slowly over. “You’resuch a guy, Spike,” she said. “All I have to do to get yourattention is stick out my chest.”

“And a lovely chest it is, too,” Spike told her,pulling her down to straddle his lap. He leaned forward and kissed her betweenher breasts.

“Is that *all* you think about?” Willow askedamusedly.

“Not all,” Spike said seriously. “I thinkabout this…” He kissed her neck, and pulled the collar of her shirtdown slightly so he could give the small scars left over from his bite a long,slow lick.

“I think about this…” He peppered a trailof kisses up the long, smooth column of her neck to her ear as his hands slidfrom Willow’s waist to her hips. Spike nipped gently at her earlobe andcontinued.

“I think about this…” His hands pushed thesoft material of her skirt up to bunch at her waist as he ran the palms of hishands along her legs. Willow bent her head a little so he could meet her lipsproperly, which he obligingly did.

Since his lips were now otherwise occupied, Spike couldn’tcontinue his argument, but shrugged it off as unimportant and turned his mindto the more interesting things at hand.

Willow spread her legs further so that she could rest herweight on Spike’s lap. Once she was sure that her position wasn’ttoo precarious, she let her hands wander from the arms of the chair that Spikesat in to the arms of Spike himself, which she had taken a particular likingto.

She loved running her fingers long his muscles. Biceps,triceps, anything impressive-sounding that she could think of—Spike hadthem, and they all twitched just slightly at her touch (that gave her a mostsmug, satisfied feeling).

Spike’s lips, too—those were nice. Soft and cooland moist. She ran her tongue along them and slipped it inside his mouth whenthey parted. One of Spike’s hands left her thigh to hold her at the smallof her back, and the other tickled up her spine to tangle in her hair that wasstill damp from the shower Willow had taken to try to relieve herself from theheat of the day.

Willow braced one hand on Spike’s shoulder and let theother fall between them. In a show of unusual daring (<I wonder if we can doit in this position?>), Willow tugged at the waistband of the softsweatpants Spike wore.

Spike drew back from her lips with a chuckle and raised hiships (and with them, Willow) slightly so that the pants could be drawn away.

Willow raised an eyebrow. “Going commando, Spike? Whyam I not surprised?”

“It’s a very daring and manly thing to do, I’llhave you know,” Spike informed her sternly, and slid his hands under thefolds of her skirt until he found the bikini waistband of her underwear. “Doyou like this underwear much, pet?”

“Don’t tell me you want to rip it off,”Willow said. The eager look in Spike’s eyes was answer enough. “Oh,fine. But you have to buy me a new pair!”

A quick nod sufficed as a promise, and the elastic andcotton gave way easily under the stresses of vampiric strength. Spike grippedWillow’s hips and lifted her slightly. She shifted until she felt the tipof him just beneath her eager wetness, and then she slid down.

Both of them gasped. Spike clenched his teeth and rolled hiships upward. Willow moaned and tipped her head back, the tips of her fingersdigging into his shoulders.

“Spike…!”

They’d foregone actual sex since that first wild nighta month and a half ago, and Willow had forgotten quite how large the vampirewas. He stretched her almost painfully, and if he took this too fast it wouldbe painful later.

Willow leaned her nose against Spike’s, breathingheavily, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Go slow?” she askedquietly. “Please?”

He nodded and sucked gently on her bottom lip, coaxing her tokiss him again. Her grip on Spike’s shoulders must have been a littlepainful as she rocked against him, but then, it was likely his own grip on herhips would leave marks the next day.

Spike thrust gently upward, driving himself deeper into herwilling warmth. He relished the small gasp Willow let loose every time theymoved together and he nipped gently at her tongue.

Willow felt they’d been clutched atop each other forforever, and she could feel Spike’s movements growing more fevered beneathher. “Harder,” she whispered against his mouth. Whatever aches andpains followed would be worth it.

Spike complied eagerly. His tender suggestive thrusts intoWillow’s wet heat grew faster and a little rougher, and his grip on herhips tighter as he started to raise and lower her in time to his movements.Willow whimpered and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting her headfall to Spike’s shoulder as she finally came. Spike purred as he felt herwalls spasm around his length, and he nuzzled her sweaty hair aside until hisfirst set of bitemarks were cleared.

Willow, coming down slightly from her orgasm, helped to pullher hair away with trembling fingers. She could feel the ridges of Spike’sgame face against her cheek, and she sighed as he sank razor-sharp canines intoher neck. She fell into a gentler orgasm at his bite along with him, and theyboth fell silent in the dark of the crypt.  

*   * *    

With the setting of the sun came a slight descent oftemperature, so Willow and Dawn exited their excellent new house, abandoning centralair conditioning and a whole lot of bubble wrap, and went for a walk.

“Stake?” Dawn said, checking, when they were onthe front porch.

“Stake,” Willow confirmed, holding up the objectin question. “Holy Water?”

“Here,” Dawn said, indicating the small pouchtied around her waist. “And a cross too.”

“Recorder?” Willow asked. Dawn drew back thezipper of her pouch to reveal a small interview-type tape recorder, with thesymbols on the buttons clearly indented into the plastic and a blank tapesecurely fitted. “Peachy keen,” Willow said. “And I have mykeys.”

She tucked them into a pocket while Dawn put the stake inher pouch. Then, arm-in-arm, they strolled along the quiet streets until theygot to what could be called “urban” Sunnydale (if the teller of thestory was in a good mood with a loose sense of humor).

As one, they headed to the ice cream parlor, and then wentfor a stroll through one of Sunnydale’s less active, more sceniccemeteries. It wasn’t much of a coincidence that it was the cemetery inwhich Spike kept house, either.

Again, there was a coincidence lacking when they stopped bya certain crypt and Dawn knocked on the door with one hand, balancing hermelting chocolate-chip cookie-dough ice cream in the other. “Spike! Comefor a walk!”

The girls stood outside and waited, trying to stop their icecream from dripping on their toes, and listened, smiling, to the sounds ofmuffled cursing coming from within the mausoleum.

Finally Spike emerged in a black muscle tank and blue jeans,no duster to be found. This anomaly was pointed out by both Willow and Dawn, towhich he scowled and said, “It’s bloody ninety-nine degrees outsideand you expect me to be wearing leather?”

The subject was dropped.

Dawn took Spike’s right arm and Willow took his left;Spike not-very-subtly stole a few bites of the redhead’s mintchocolate-chip ice cream, and they all commenced walking.

Willow and Dawn kept shooting each other “You go,”“No, you go,” looks until Spike couldn’t take it anymore andsaid, “All right, dears, what is it? Tell uncle Spike, go on.”

The look Willow gave Dawn was tempered with a sample ofresolve face so Dawn rolled her eyes and spoke. “So, Spike…”she began casually. “If you were going to, say, move out of your crypt,how would you decorate your apartment? Or house, or whatever?”

Spike looked a bit confused as to why the question that wasso difficult to ask was so bloody mundane, but he furrowed his brow and thought.“Hmm… Probably do the ‘modern vampire’ bit, you know. Lotsof dark red and black. With black velvet drapes to cover up windows, the wholeleather couch deal. There’s this bed I saw in Bed, Bath and Beyond…I was at the mall anyway, you know, to take a look at the leathers store and Ijust *happened* to see it…”

He glared at the female on each of his arms to make surethey understood that the tough Master Vampire had in no way actually gonebrowsing through Bed, Bath and Beyond. They each nodded understandingly and hecoughed and continued. “It was this great iron thing, see.” Heremoved his arm from Dawn’s and started gesturing with it, though hisfingers stayed firmly locked with Willow’s.

“Four poster, springs, et cetera, about four feethigh, very nice, and I was thinking with black sheets and a dark red duvet…”

Willow and Dawn nodded fervently, each taking notes in hermind about the details Spike included in his hand movements, while the taperecorder in Dawn’s pouch whirred quietly.  

*   * *    

“Okay, what else is on the list?”

Dawn pushed the shopping cart slowly down the aisles of Bed,Bath and Beyond. Willow stepped quickly behind her, reading aloud from theshopping list they’d put together.

“Uh… Black velvet drapes.”

“Look at this!” Anya came skipping down theaisle that crossed the one Willow and Dawn were currently in, waving somethingthat glinted. “Isn’t this lovely?”

She shoved it into Willow’s hand, wiggling herfingers. Her ring glinted. Willow blinked at it, a thought crossing her mind,but she quickly shook it away as impossible and took what Anya offered.

It was a picture frame—a thick, silver picture framewith heavy relief. “See, it’s good for putting photographs in,”Anya explained carefully.

“I know,” Willow said with a raised eyebrow. Sheturned it over, weighing it in her hand. “What would you guys think if wegot a picture… of Buffy? And got it printed all nice and framed it andput it on his bedside table?”

“I don’t know if encouraging Deadboy Junior’sobsessions is a great idea, Wills,” Xander commented, coming up behindthem. He dumped a heavy plastic-wrapped package into the cart: the red duvet.Willow put the picture frame in the cart and picked up the duvet. She slid thewrappings open gingerly and slid a finger across the fabric. “Crushedvelvet, Xan. I didn’t know you cared.”

Xander grimaced. “C’mon. The guy’s not*that* bad. He’s kind of funny. And he appreciates Wheetabix! I just don’tknow if you should cultivate obsessions, that’s all.”

“I think it’s a very sweet idea,” Anyasaid. “We’ll just ignore the fact that it was *my* idea, not hers.”

Willow grinned. “Thanks, Anya.” She took a lookat their budget and shrugged. “Why don’t you pick up some more? We’llget one of these for everybody, and another one for Spike. We’ll give hima picture of us.”

Anya looked thrilled to be doing something, and skipped offto get more frames. Xander looked kind of doubtful again. “Do you thinkhe’d really want a picture of the White Hats adorning his sleeping place?”

“Why not?” Willow said defensively. “We’rehis friends now, right? Sort of? His posse?”

“Willow, promise me you’ll never use the word*posse* again,” Dawn muttered.

Willow made a face. “If he doesn’t like it, hecan get rid of it.”

“Good point,” Xander said with a shrug. “Fine.So… black velvet drapes?”  

*   * *    

“I like, I like,” Spike said appreciatively.

Willow and Dawn had given him an enthusiastic tour of thenew house they’d bought with the money from selling the old Summers andRosenberg houses. They’d started at the top, with the circular tower roomWillow had reserved for her magic, then to Willow’s bedroom (Spike hadgiven Willow a bold wink that the redhead prayed Dawn had somehow not noticed),Dawn’s bedroom, the library, and the guest room. Then to the bottomfloor: living room, dining room, laundry room and kitchen.

Dawn had begun to bounce excitedly the closer they got tothe kitchen. Spike gave her a strange look when she bumped into him on theirway from the dining room to the laundry room.

“Oookay, here’s the kitchen,” Willow said,her voice pitched a little too high. “See? Dishwasher, very nice.”Spike grinned indulgently, and then Dawn started bouncing again.

“A-and the basement!” Dawn squeaked, and openedthe door. Spike shot a questioning look back at Willow, whose face had acquireda becoming pink tinge. She gave her best to give him a “How-Should-I-Know?”look, but it wasn’t very credible.

“All right, basement it is,” Spike said, andfollowed a tingly Dawn down the stairs.

Dawn flicked a switch at the bottom of the steps and wallsconces lit up softly. The trio stood in front of a black-framed Chinesescreen. “What’s this, then?” Spike asked.

“Go ahead,” Dawn said, the corners of her mouthtwitching.

“Take a look!” Willow said. The pitch of hervoice had climbed a few notches.

“Ooookay,” Spike said doubtfully, drawing outthe word. He stepped forward and folded the screen back.

Then he froze.

The whole of the basement had been converted into the spacehe’d described to Willow and Dawn.

The small windows at the ceiling that looked out onto thefront yard had floor-length black velvet drapes drawn across them; the ironfour-poster he’d been so wistfully ogling had its headboard against thewall. It was fitted with black sheets and a red duvet and lots of black-and-redthrow pillows, just like he’d said. There was a set of black leatherarmchairs, with a black iron table in between them; on top of the glass topthere was a black mug. On it in bold red letters were the words:

BIG BAD

Spike chuckled as he walked over and picked it up. “Whatd’you know,” he said.

“There’s more…” Dawn said. She tookhis hand and pulled him towards a small door on the far wall as Willow reachedstealthily under the pillows and drew out the framed photographs. She gentlysteadied them on the glass-topped bedside table and smiled.

“So I’m got my own bathroom and everything?”Spike called as he stepped out of said bathroom, Dawn trailing behind.

“T.V. too,” Dawn said, pointing, “And afridge for blood.”

“Well, well.” Spike grinned. “I don’tknow what to…”

Willow stepped away from the photographs.

“…say…” Spike finished. His browcreased, and he stepped over to where Willow stood, the look un his faceunreadable.

He gently lifted the picture of Buffy. It was one of her thesummer of the year before, a huge smile gracing her face. A similar smileslowly spread across Spike’s own handsome features, and his eyes said somuch more as they met Willow’s and he said, “Thank you.”

His hand slid gently across her stomach, and she turned andlet him wrap his arm around her waist as he picked up the picture of the ScoobyGang. It had been taken around the time Buffy’s picture had—Willow,Xander, Anya, Giles and Dawn, with Buffy behind the camera (Tara had beensomewhere… else). They all looked ridiculously happy, and they weremaking various faces at the camera except for Giles, who sat looking slightlydisoriented in the midst of all these silly children but cheerful enough justthe same.

Dawn stood by one of the posts of the bed, smiling at thecute couple Willow and Spike made. It would be *so* cool if they got together,especially since Spike would be living with them now…

Dawn grinned. She knew what her next goal was.

~Part: 6~

Dawn sat by the window in her loft, a crisp new notebook in her lap and a dark blue ballpoint pen in her hand. After considering for a moment, she opened the notebook to the first page and wrote in her smallest, neatest handwriting the following:

DAWN SUMMERS' 2001 - 2002 CHECKLIST  

__ Get Willow and Spike together

She licked her lips and twiddled the pen absently. She couldn't think of much else she wanted to get done for the year. yet; she'd leave the rest of the page blank, but start mapping out her plans to carry out her first (and so far, only) goal.

She grinned. She'd never really considered the idea of Willow and Spike as a couple until she'd seen them curled up together that morning at Giles' house; it was good that they were friends, too, because Willow had confided in Dawn that her worst problem was getting crushes on her best friends.

Perhaps it hadn't worked out so well with Xander, but Dawn was determined that it happen with Spike. After all, they were all living together, weren't they? And Spike was already so much a big brother to Dawn.

She was getting tingly at the very idea of Willow and Spike, now.

Of course, they'd want to take it slow-or, at least, Willow would. She was one for cautious dating, and Dawn knew it would probably take at least six months before Willow and Spike formally consummated their relationship. It was too bad Willow was so. well, shy.

Dawn pursed her lips and sighed. The sunlight was distracting-it was too beautiful a day to just be sitting here, no matter how noble her intentions. She pushed the pen into the spirals of her notebook and hid the notebook under her pillow. While they were settling in, Willow and Dawn were 'camping out'-spending nights in sleeping bags until all of the painting and carpeting was done for their huge new house. Dawn felt a twinge of homesickness for the Summers' former residence, but it had been her idea to move. With both her mother and Buffy gone, the cozy little house seemed empty and hollow, full of ghosts no matter how many friends she had over, or however boisterous the Scooby Gang was.

Dawn stood, bending slightly so she wouldn't bump her head against the ceiling, and crossed her loft to the ladder on the far side and climbed down to her bedroom proper. The loft was about seven feet high, and the ceilings of her room just above twelve feet when she stood on the floor. She was planning to paint her room a nice rosy color, but she wasn't quite so sure if she'd like having her room be pink in a year or so.

Dawn made an exasperated noise and decided that perhaps some ice cream would clear her mind. "Willow?"

"In my room!" came the reply.

Dawn crossed the hall and pushed the door to Willow's room further ajar. Willow and Spike, both dressed in the oversized T-shirts they'd been using for smocks, faced the one windowless wall in the room. They each held a small can of gold paint in one hand and a slender paintbrush in the other, and were carefully studying a heavy spellbook that was propped on a table.

"How's it going?" Dawn asked, admiring how cute Willow and Spike looked together.

Willow grinned. "Great! Take a look. It's a super-complicated blessing, basically, that marks this room as my sanctuary. And what's good about this is that if you do a curve or two wrong, it won't upset the spell because it's so benevolent."

"Neat!" Dawn said. She stepped closer and compared the mural of runes, curlicues and complex figures that Spike and Willow had created on the wall to the one illustrated on the dusty pages of the book. "Wow. Good job."

"Yeah. During the day, when Spike's not in here, I can draw back the curtains," Willow explained, gesturing towards the sparkling translucent black drapes she'd hung from her windows, effectively sun-proofing the room. "Think how gorgeous this'll look with the sunlight on it!"

"Almost as gorgeous as you," Spike said teasingly. Willow rolled her eyes and bumped Spike with her elbow.

"Please." She looked over her shoulder at Dawn. "Dawnie-did you want something, or did you come to volunteer to help? We have more smocks!"

Dawn smiled. "Nah, you guys look like you're doing fine without me. I was just wondering if you wanted to go for some ice cream."

Willow's brow furrowed, and she looked doubtful. "Maybe after sunset," she said, glancing at Spike, who appeared to not be listening. "But during the day. I don't want to just leave Spike all by his pathetic little lonesome."  This last part she added loudly, so Spike grimaced and snorted at her.

"I'll be fine. You chits go out, get some mint choc-chip. Just bring some back for me."

"Dawn, you wanna go on an ice cream run? Go to Ben & Jerry's, bring some back for the team?"

Dawn considered this. Though she'd rather have gone with Willow, it would be a good idea to leave Willow and Spike alone to get to know each other better; some other day, soon, she'd go for a walk with Willow and gently suggest the idea of hooking up with Spike and see how the other girl reacted.

"Yeah, sure," Dawn said. "I've got some money, but you'll pay me back, right?"

Willow laughed. "Yeah, sure, greedyguts. Go get some ice cream. Lots."

"Spike wants mint chocolate-chip," Dawn said, pausing at the doorway. "Can I get three different pints, and we can mix and match?"

"We'll gain about fifteen pounds each, but yeah, sure."

Spike grinned. "Get some Cherry Garcia, will you?"

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Do I hear. four pints?"

"I want mocha almond fudge," Willow said.

"I'll decide when I get there," Dawn said. "I'll get something very unusual and interesting."

"Don't get anything weird, like banana-mint-vanilla-macadamia-mozzarella, okay?" Spike said, cringing. "They get stranger flavors every time I go there, and it's a little scary, even for a terrifying master vampire like myself."

"You go to Ben & Jerry's often?" Dawn asked interestedly. "When does this happen?"

Spike made a face at her. "Shoo."

"Ooh, wait 'til I tell all the other vampires how Spikey spends his dark, intimidating nights mixing and matching Ben & Jerry's!" Dawn said. She sounded sadistically gleeful, Willow thought.

"This is your influence rearing its ugly head," she remarked to Spike, who rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure."

Dawn sighed. "Okay, I'm gone."

Spike nodded and picked up his paintbrush again. Willow shot a nervous glance at him and then turned back to Dawn. "I'll walk you downstairs," she said.

Dawn raised her eyebrows. "Ooookay."

Willow crossed her arms across her chest as they walked in tandem down the stairs. "This is a little tough," she said as they got to the bottom. "Uh, I have something for you."

Dawn looked interested. "Really?"

Willow looked away and fiddled with the hem of her smock. "Yeah. Um. It's from Buffy," she said suddenly.

Dawn stared. "From Buffy."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. She gave me letters she'd written for everybody. She wrote a letter for Giles, for Anya, Xander, me, Spike and you. And for Angel. She always did that before a big fight, just in case, and she had some backups in case of. You know, like, patrolling."

Dawn looked dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to give it to you, but there never seemed to be a right time," Willow said apologetically. She produced an envelope from a pocket in her smock and handed it to Dawn, who took it numbly.

"I. Uh." Willow began again, and then sighed. "Take your time, okay?"

Dawn nodded.

"Just be back before sunset." Willow paused as if she were going to say something else, and then stopped. She kissed Dawn's forehead and stroked her hair once, and then smiled a little shakily and headed back upstairs.

Dawn stood in the front hallway for a long moment before gently tearing the envelope open and taking out the letter.

*   *   *

Dear Dawnie,

I'm beginning to understand how the world works. Lots of times it's like that guy said-what's his name, Calvin. I think. Anyway, he said, "Life is nasty, poor, brutish and short." And since you're reading this, I guess at least the 'short' part is true, for me. What I'm about to say will probably annoy you, but that's all right. I spend a lot of energy making sure I'm antagonistic enough.

So: Sometimes the tough stuff builds character, like Calvin's (from Calvin and Hobbes, not the preachy guy. Though the preachy guy might have been Hobbes.) dad says. It's annoying to think about, you know, the bad being good for something, but I think it's true. Try and learn from your experiences. When life throws you lemons, make lemonade. And most clouds have some sort of silver lining, though you usually only catch that with hindsight.

I'm rambling-I hope you don't mind. The only person who can babble better than Buffy is Willow. You know what I'm talking about. She is babble *queen*. But, yeah. Like I said, sometimes life sucks. You'll probably learn-you probably already have learned-that the things that are the most enjoyable are usually bad for you, that all men are pigs, and that you're never, ever going to use any kind of math beyond Algebra. Unfortunately, you still have to eat your broccoli and hold off on the sweets (mostly), deal with boys and their stupid quirks, and take Calculus.

But I sound all pessimistic. Life can rock, Dawn. It can be so much fun. There can be little things that make you so happy and you don't know why, and it's great. Try not to be too upset that I'm gone-you'll still have memories of me, and all those lame family videos Mom loved to make, and like eighteen volumes of photos. Miss me. I mean, I'd be insulted if you didn't, but don't be one of those people who throw their lives away moping over someone who's gonna stay gone. Enjoy yourself-hang out with Willow, make Spike behave, help Anya with the Magic Box. You know. Scooby life as usual. Sooner or later you'll even start patrolling.

Just a few reminders: High schoolers, especially girls, can be really cruel. Just ask Willow about how awful Cordelia used to be to her. I complained, but that was nothing, trust me. Don't go over to their side, and keep a few things in mind:

Don't judge people by their gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, species or the shoes they wear. Species you can be a little iffy on-I mean, Gavrok spiders, not a lot of fun-but in general, you have to give people a chance. You can make snap judgments on music taste, but be willing to change your opinion.

Some more sage advice: Give at least five different people a sincere smile every day. Care about others, but be selfish once in a while.

Sing a song. Spaz dance. Have some chocolate. Take a nap in the sun. Read a good book. Reread a good book. Watch "Moulin Rouge." Quote Monty Python. Listen to mood music. Walk in the rain once in a while. Learn to knit-Learn to kickbox. Memorize stereotypes and try to break them down. Pet Miss Kitty Fantastico. Believe in yourself, and believe in the people you love.

Don't do drugs. Don't let anyone make you do something you feel uncomfortable doing (you know what I mean!). *Never* vote for George Bush or any of his descendants. And last but not least, keep a good fashion perspective and *never* (I mean, *never*) wear those horrible Maybelline pink and red nailpolish colors. For my sake.

That's all, I think. That's Buffy's Guide to Life. I'll miss you, Dawn. I love you.

Buffy

*   *   *

"Can I talk to you a second?" Willow asked hesitantly.

Spike looked up from the design on the wall and realized from the look on her face that something serious was going on. "Yeah?"

"I." Willow drew her hand across her face and sat on the plastic-covered floor. "Sit." She patted the floor in front of her.

Spike sat.

"I think we need to stop," Willow said, and looked at her toes.

"Stop," Spike repeated.

"Stop having sex," Willow explained. "This 'affair' we're having-whatever it is-it needs. It's not healthy."

" 'Not healthy'?" Spike demanded.

Willow looked up at him, hurt. "Will you give me a chance to explain, Spike?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he nodded at her to continue.

"I don't think this is good for either of us," Willow said. "I think that we're using each other for comfort as a least resort because neither of us can have what we really want, and I think that's bad. I don't like using people, and I don't like being used, and right now that's what's happening, even though it was a mutual agreement. I feel like I'm being selfish and I don't like being that kind of selfish that has the potential to hurt other people. I think that if we keep on as we've been doing, we'll be too distracted by each other to give Dawn the attention she deserves, and that's not fair to her!

We're her guardians, and right now we're not treating her as first priority, which is what I think we need to do. How would she feel if we paired up and left her in the proverbial dust?

And I don't like secret relationships. I'm not ashamed of you and I'm not ashamed of us, and I don't particularly think that anyone in the gang would have that much trouble adapting to the idea of us as a couple, but they would have a problem with the fact that we didn't tell them two months ago, and so do I. And another thing they wouldn't understand is that we're not a couple. We're friends who have comfort sex! We're not in love. You're in love with Buffy and I'm not in love with anyone. It's empty and a little scary and I think it's hurting both of us.

I like being your friend. I think you're a wonderful guy, and I think I can honestly say that I wouldn't mind falling in love with you, but I won't, and you won't fall in love with me, so I think this needs to stop. I know you hate the 'let's-just-be-friends' talk, but I honestly mean it. We managed fine for the past two months, even though there was a lot of innuendo, and I want to go on that way. I want to take care of Dawn with you, and I want to patrol with you, and I want to be able to be with you without feeling like I'm doing something I shouldn't be."

Willow took a deep breath and wrenched her gaze away from Spike's, which had become too intense.

"So. Yeah. That's all, I think. I'm sorry."

Spike was silent for a long, excruciatingly painful moment. He looked at the drape-covered windows; he looked at the gold wall; he looked at Willow's bowed head and his own tightly clasped hands and swallowed loudly.

"Yeah," he said finally. "You're-You're right, I guess."

Willow looked up, surprised. "I am?"

Spike nodded. "I. Yes. I mean, it sucks, but you're right."

Willow clenched her jaw. "Okay," she said, and stood.

Spike stood, too, and they stared at each other for another long moment before Spike said, "I. Uh. I'm going downstairs."

Willow nodded, and stood silently as Spike pulled his smock up over his head and slowly trudged out of her bedroom.

She felt emptier, now, somehow.

Damn it.

next

back