General Notes and Disclaimers:
1. I'm English, English spelling is different.
2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel (the Series) and all characters,
locations and other inventions therein are the copyrighted property of
Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
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The crunch on the gravel path made Willow look up from where she'd been sitting next to Tara's gravestone. "Spike! Sorry, you startled me. Aren't you supposed to be at Xander's?"
"I'm a prisoner, am I?" said the subdued vampire.
"No, of course not! But I thought you were supposed to be all 'looking after each other guys', what with the whole 'from beneath you it devours' thing."
"He don't want me there. I don't want to be there. Not exactly 'The Odd Couple', pet."
"So, you're all patrol-guy? That's good. And productive!" Willow said, as she tried to be perky and failed miserably.
"No. Thought I'd give a walk a try. If I stay in the wardrobe... well... see things. Tried staying dead still. Hurt less, but it's still there. So, thought I'd visit my dead. Went to see Joyce, but she don't want me - can't blame her. Not wanted anywhere. Can't go anywhere in this town. Everywhere's full of my dead. This was the last place I had left. Tara was a nice little thing. Thought she might give me a moment before she started shouting. So, here."
"Sit, please, Spike. I'd like the company, and... and I know Tara would. She's been alone too long. I mean, I know it's my fault. That I... I wasn't here. I know they buried her, and got her a headstone, and that they cared about her, but... I... I loved her, and I wasn't here, and I should have been, but hey, too evil, and she's been all alone," Willow wept.
Spike sat down on the grass next to Willow. "Sorry, pet, I'm a bad Englishman. No hanky."
"Willow smiled at him through her tears. "Giles always has a handkerchief. I miss Giles."
"Yeah, me too, even if the first thing he'd probably do is stake me. No, that'd be too bloody quick by half, probably be death by a thousand Holy Water drops," Spike said, with resignation.
"I thought he'd kill me too. I tried to kill him, and, oh, everyone else on the planet. I still wish he had killed me sometimes. It'd be so much easier. I wouldn't have to face anyone. It still hurts to look at them and remember," she sniffed.
"Tell me about it."
"Oh, Spike, I'm sorry. I know it must be so much worse for you, what with all the centuries of murder and stuff. I'm a bad, bad Willow." She stopped crying, as concern for another gave her a focus.
"Only one-hundred and twenty years give or take. Not that old, pet. But yeah, it's hard. It's so bloody hard. It's harder that no one will stake me. Put me out of their misery, and mine. Maybe I should take the Nibblet up on the waking up on fire offer."
"So not an option, mister." Willow wagged her finger.
"Why? You should hate me. You all should. I tried to hurt. I tried to hurt... her. Your best friend. You should hate me. You should kill me," Spike said with sad sincerity.
"Not big with the killing anymore. The Coven was very clear on the whole 'No killing' thing. And you're all sorry and stuff, and you helped save Buffy from killing the Principal - and that's so not the way to workplace success. And she said you helped with Cassie and everything. And, you know, 'soul now'. Still trying to get my head round that one." Willow shook her head.
"Me too, pet. Me too," Spike nodded.
"I know I should have something big to say, that it's all huge and everything. I do my best, but it all comes out all dumb and trivial. Every time I try to really think it through my head starts to explode, and I did so much damage I don't want to make more by having my head explode all over the kitchen and stuff." Willow said, wrinkling her nose and looking him in the face.
"Wouldn't want that. It's a nice head, and, yeah, too much mess already." Spike ran his fingers through Willow's hair. Then he screwed his eyes up and cried out, "So much messes... and all over me... in me, and I can't get it out!" His hands pulled back to claw at his chest.
"Spike!" Willow caught his hands with her own. It helped him.
Spike came back, looked up at her, and said earnestly, "I tried. Tried to cut it out, but it won't go. Willow, I can't do it!"
She stroked his cheek. "You can, Spike, but not that way, huh. Tara wouldn't like you hurting yourself. Not after you were so nice when she burnt you by accident in the Winnebago."
"Long time ago that," he said looking lost.
"Lifetimes ago," she sighed.
"Yeah, ok. For now. For Tara," Spike said firmly. "Why is she here though? Not near Joyce?"
"It overlooks our favourite picnic spot by the water. We had some great times there with everyone, so that's why they must have chosen here. They decided. I wasn't in any state to do anything, except gibber and cry. Lots of that." Willow snorted.
"Show me? Wasn't there. Never invited. Not so many ghosts. Only if you want. Don't want to intrude." Spike said, expecting a refusal.
"No intruding. I want. I very want. I want to talk about her and I can't. But I can show you, if you really want. You do want?" Willow smiled at him.
"I want, pet," he smiled shyly.
Spike helped pull Willow to her feet and she led the way to a small path leading down to the grass and the water. Spike took off his denim jacket with a shrug and a, "Ladies first," and they sat down on it.
"How are you holding up?" Spike asked with concern.
Willow scooted round on the denim to face him, and replied, "I'm trying, I really am. I know they don't want me to mope - not for Tara. I mean, I understand - so not wanting to revisit the whole grief-stricken killing people evil thing. It's not like I want me to go all Veiny Willow again either. But it's not like Buffy's, oh, 'Angel' or 'Riley' who're, like, still alive! Or un-dead, whatever. But Tara's dead and I'm not supposed to grieve? I'm not allowed to coz I screwed up so bad? It still hurts, but I don't get to be all upset, and that's so hard," she sniffed. He put a very tentative hand on her shoulder in support.
She continued, "I'm too busy trying to be all what I'm supposed to be, you know - all guilty and stuff. I know, I know, I owe them that. I did try to kill them, and they took me back and helped me and loved me, but I still hurt - I do and I still miss her, and I'm so unhappy, and I'm not allowed to show that. Oh no. It's all 'Oz left you, and killed in front of you - stop crying, we're so, so, tired of it,' all over again, but, like, worse! She's dead, and it's like nobody wants to mention that! It's all: Tara who?"
"Miss her too, pet. Lovely lady that. Tragic shame." Spike said sadly.
"It hurts, it hurts so bad. There's this massive hole in my life that's Tara shaped. But she's gone, and I'll never, ever, see her again!"
He rubbed her shoulder, stroked her hair, and told her firmly, "Yeah, you will, one day. Long time in the future, but you'll be with her, in that nice warm place Buffy was. Good little thing like her, she's just keeping your seat all cosy, ain't she?"
"I wish, Spike. I really do. But I'm not good anymore. I won't ever get to see her again. I flunked the test - and I don't flunk tests! Except I did, big time! I tried to end the world!"
Both his hands moved to her shoulders, and he held her firmly. "You will, luv. And who hasn't tried to end the world? Gotta say, that shit with the Judge - not exactly my finest hour," he said wryly.
"You had an excuse. You didn't know better. You didn't have a soul. I did, so I'm worse than you. I'm worse than anyone!"
He shook his head. "Yeah, a soul. Cos that makes all the difference, doesn't it? Cos everything's all magically better, like I thought it would be - before. Bloody hell, I was such a fool! It makes no difference at all. I'm still scum." He dropped his hands back into his lap.
"No, Spike, it does. Really." Willow took his hands.
Spike said, his head bowed, "Yeah, feels like it. Feels like Hell, actually. Guess it's good practice."
Willow scooted forwards so her knees were either side of his outstretched legs, and she was perched over his lap. She smiled sadly, raised his head with both their hands, and said, "Then I'll have good company, even if I'll never see Tara again."
He kissed her knuckles, and smiled at her. "You'll see her. You'll make it. All that saving the world'll do it."
She kissed his nose. "You too then. Ok, not so many as me, but I think even once counts, let alone three times. And getting the soul - that's gotta do it. You'll be there if I will."
He kissed her forehead, and said, "You'll be there, and you'll never lose her again."
She let go of his hands and moved hers to his shoulders. "She wasn't supposed to leave me. I should have been able to fix it. I've always been able to fix things. Why couldn't I bring her back? If I'm so powerful, why couldn't I do the one thing that I wanted more than anything? Why couldn't I make it right?"
"Not meant to be. You know that." He stroked her face and said, "Can't ever make it right, no matter what. No matter what we do, or how much we need to. Never."
She stroked his hair. "We can, Spike. We must be able to. If that's all there is it hurts too much. There must be something good, something not painful, something not wrong! Something warm, and I'm so cold, so very cold." Her arms dropped to hold him.
"Can't help there, pet. Dead, cold, freezing, no warmth. Don't deserve any warmth, can't give any, just burn everything." He looked down.
"No, Spike, you stopped Buffy burning, and I just stood there, coz it was all my fault she was hurting, like it's always my fault. Besides, you're not cold. Not exactly warm, but not cold either." Her hands stroked his bare arms without the jacket.
"Not cold? Not a dead thing? A man?" He looked up at her.
"Un-dead, yes." She sat down on his lap. "But, oh yes, a man."
"But you don't want a man. You're into girls." His hands moved up to play with her hair.
"I am, and that's not change-y. But I've done my best. I've been good. I've been to the Lesbian Alliance meetings on campus. I've looked. I've done the trying to move on thing for Buffy and Xander. I have! I've tried. I even tried dancing with a girl last week, but I felt sick. She was soft, but she wasn't Tara, and Tara's all I want and I can't have her. I don't deserve her, and I'll never have her again. But I'm so cold, and I just want to feel warm." She snuggled closer.
"Wrong body temperature here, pet. But I know what you mean. Even before, you know, I did what she wanted. I tried to move on, but it was all 'didn't take you long' and 'you're hurting me by bringing a date'. I tried, I really did, but it didn't help, and it hurts. Girls looked, you know, when I was in the Bronze earlier. But they aren't her. They'll never be her, and it hurts so much that it'll never be her. Not that it ever was. She'd never let it. I bloody well know all this! Why doesn't it help? Why is it that all I want is to forget for a minute, to feel wanted?"
"Wanted. I want. You're not soft, you're hard, very hard." She shifted against his stiff denim covered cock and continued, "So you aren't her, and I need to feel warm. Warm me, Spike, please." She kissed him softly.
He pulled back. "You want me? Really?" She nodded. "It hurts, you know, if I touch... if I touch... her. Hurts like a thousand knives. Deserve to hurt, but I don't want it. You don't hurt. Why don't you hurt me?" He tilted his head and caressed her face.
"Don't want to hurt you. Want to feel warm. Make me feel warm, Spike. Give me peace, just for a moment. Let me do that for you - I'd feel better." She ran her hands down his back.
"You would?"
"Yes." She kissed him, and their tongues danced before he pulled back.
"Stop, pet. You're human. Don't want to hurt you."
"I'm a freak witch now, Spike. I don't want to be, but I absorbed so much magic I'm connected to everything. I throw off magic even when I don't know it. I can't get rid of the magic, even if I wanted to. I tap into the strength of the Earth itself. I used it to try to destroy the planet. Now I'm using it to say you can't hurt me. But you can make me feel warm, make me feel better if only for a moment. Make me not feel like a freak, please. I need that, Spike." Her hands pulled his T-shirt free of his jeans.
"You make me feel better. My head... it feels more 'me''. The longer I've been talking to you the clearer it feels. Does that make sense?"
He looked into her eyes, but they were too clouded by desire to answer more than, "Stop making sense, Spike."
He kissed her, and lay back, her above him. His hands pushed her jacket away from her pale arms then caressed every inch. She pulled his T-shirt all the way off, as they stopped kissing long enough to get it over his head. She moved back to run kisses all the way down from his eyelashes to his cheekbones down to his neck, before she took a small nip at his Adam's apple. He breathed in hard and pulled her back to devour her with his kiss. He pulled her shirt free of her jeans and caressed her smooth belly. Then he swept up to her bra and caressed her nipples through the fabric.
She melted.
He kissed her harder, and with both nipples now hard, he palmed and caressed them more firmly. Her hands went to his belt, and she barely managed to focus enough to unbuckle it. But she did. He moved her hands back to his chest, where she returned the favour that was driving her wild.
His hands moved to her bra clasp and he released it. He moved back to her now free of fabric breasts and stroked her nipples and caressed her soft skin. She took her hands away from tormenting him to pull her shirt and bra off. Now bare to the moonlight, he pulled her back down and suckled on her left breast, while caressing the right.
She felt so hot and so full of need, but she didn't want to come from this, it was too close to what she'd loved so much with Tara.
She pushed him back and said, "I want you. I need you." Willow unbuttoned his fly and he sprang free. She caressed him gently, and said, "It's been a while, but looking good." He toed off his shoes as she pushed his jeans down, leaving him naked.
"Now, now, pet. Fair's fair." And he unzipped her and pulled her jeans down as he caressed her legs. She kicked off her shoes as her reached her ankle. He stroked back her inner thighs to her centre. She moaned, and ran her hands over his hard body.
He reached under the elastic of her sensible knickers and found her slick for him, and he smiled as his talented fingers went to work on her clit. She dug her fingers into his ass as she writhed. She thought, not like that, and managed to choke out. "I want you, Spike. Fuck me. Now!"
He pulled away the sodden underwear and rolled them over so he was on top. "If the lady insists," he said, as he kissed her and plunged inside, fingers moving back to torment her clit. He thrust into a hard rhythm, but her magic made her able to take it, and take joy in it. He moved her legs over his shoulders and with the shift in her pelvis was able to hit her G-spot, something only Tara had found before with her finger. With the powerful thrusts to this most sensitive area, and the magic of his fingers, her body soon shook with the force of her climax.
Her orgasm triggered his. But as she lost control, her magic ceased to protect him. His face blanked and he shifted into vamp-face. He sank his teeth into her neck. As his body shuddered to a conclusion, he drained her, rising away from her neck only to bite his tongue and thrust it into her mouth, where with her last breath she swallowed his blood.
"One way or another. That's saved me some time, and at least now I don't have to pretend to be a goth-girl poet with bad hair." Spike's voice said as his eyebrow rose. His body stood, dressed, and started to bury Willow in the sand.
The END