Spike

I bloody hate it when women cry.

Always have. Always will.

It always makes me feel inadequate and helpless.

It's one thing to be standing over some potential meal and watch tears flood her eyes when she realizes that I will be the last thing she sees and it's totally another when its someone I care about.

So, I did the first thing that occurred to me—get her out of there to someplace private.

After dropping two twenties onto the table, I picked up her slight body and left the bar.

At least that was my plan.

We'd just made it to the side of the building, Willow still clinging to me like I was the second coming or something, when that bloke from the bar appeared, sword in hand—protective as all hell.

"What the hell did you do to her?"

I rolled my eyes, forcing myself not to change in front of this man who I knew instinctively to be someone important to Willow. Someone she wouldn't want hurt.

"Nothing mate. We're just old friends."

His eyes widened.

"How old?"

I shook my head. "Sunnydale old."

"Ah shit!"

"Mac?" She pulled away enough for her voice to be heard. I looked down at her—her face red and splotchy from crying and all I could think of was how beautiful she was.

How bloody beautiful.

"I'm okay—really."

He strode up to us with one eye on me, and looked down at her—his face instantly softening with worry and concern.

My demon wanted to scream in protest.

"Are you sure, Willow?"

She nodded, fresh tears covering her face. "I'm sure."

Pursing his lips, he turned his attention to me and sighed in defeat. "Alright—but let me get you your coat, okay?"

I could tell he was hiding something, but I had not a clue. I felt her head nod against my chest.

Grunting, he turned on his heel and jogged away.

What was it about the bloke that reminded me of Peaches?

"I know—he does me too, sometimes."

Did I say that out loud?

"It must be because of the time he came from—that and plus he's Scottish."

"Pet, are you okay in there?"

She turned to me, her eyes filling once again, and hid her face in my chest. "I'm so—so sorry, Spike. I should've called you or wrote you or something—but I always thought I had time with you and Angel. And I couldn't bear seeing them again. It—it hurt," she whispered.

Them—meaning her mortal friends. I could
understand. Seven or eight years ago, I couldn't. But now, I could.

She gave me that.

It was a painful lesson.

I shuddered, suddenly feeling the need to tighten my hold on her—as if I could keep her there—with me. I've always been that way, you know. Totally unheard of for a demon, but then I never could follow rules very well.

Sometimes, I think that's what hurt me the most about Peaches. Not that he got a soul—like he could bloody well help that—but that he abandoned Dru and I—as if we were no more than his dirty laundry that he was ashamed of having. I loved the prick and for eighty years, he was gone—out of our lives without a word.

And now, here was Willow, who did the same thing, asking for my forgiveness.

I felt my face change as a low growl escaped my lips. Grabbing a hold of her arms, I held her back and really looked at her. It was then I noticed her eyes. Once they held the innocence of life in them—filled with awe and wonder despite all the horrors she'd seen in her short life. Now, the innocence was gone—a heaviness of heart and soul.

And loneliness.

I wondered if my eyes looked the same.

My true face melted away and I nodded. "Of course, love. How could I not? Eternity is a long time to be bleeding pissed off, don't you think?"

Her chest rumbled as her face lit up—full of love and life—and I did the only thing I could think of: kiss her.

Lifting my hands up and cupping her wet face, I smiled as I sensed her heart once again taking off—and bent my face down and finally did what I had wanted to do for nearly a decade—

Ravage Willow's mouth.

Willow

I've kissed a lot of men in the last seven years and slept with most of them.

But never another Immortal.

Oh, I've met a few that were appealing. Mac's friend, Adam, ranking the highest on the list.

But they all, in whatever small or large way, reminded me of either Oz or Spike.

Adam—definitely Spike. From the accent to the 'bloody hell' to the sardonic sense of humor—he was the hardest to stay away from.

Yet, I did, because somehow it just didn't seem right to try and replace Spike—not when the vampire was still alive.

Not when the possibility of him being the one to hold me and make love to me was still there.

And yet, out of all the men that I'd been with since Oz, Spike's kiss was the first one to not only leave my body breathless with anticipation, but my heart as well.

Finally!
I thought to myself. I can do this and not be disloyal to Oz or to myself.

And with that thought, I opened my mouth and deepened the kiss.

I'm not sure how far it would've gone if Mac hadn't come back. Giggling at my own forgetfulness, I pulled back and shrugged at the blond vampire. "Mac's coming back—with my coat," I told him as I watched the older Immortal step into the alley and head our way. Pulling out of Spike's embrace, I walked up to my mentor and took my coat. "Thanks, Mac."

"Will, it isn't a good idea to let this happen—"

My eyes shut in frustration. How do I tell him about Spike without breaking his heart? "Duncan, Immortal's don’t have a patent on immortality," I whispered to him, deciding to go with a half-truth now—knowing that I would have to finally tell him about my life—pre-Immortality.

His eyes widened as he looked over my shoulder. I suddenly could feel the tension rolling off him.

It hit me. He knew.

"Vampire…" Mac whispered so quietly that I barely heard him. I whipped around to see Spike, still leaning against the wall—the perfect picture of casual indifference—human face and all—smoking a cigarette.

But I knew better—I'd seen that look in his eye before. He heard Mac and was ready to fight for his right to be with me.

I groaned, shaking my head. "You knew?" I asked Mac as I stepped away from him. Better to deal with one Alpha male at a time. "Did you know about me? My life—before?"

His eyebrow's creased as he turned his attention to me. "What are you talking about, Willow?

"The Slayer was my best friend. Do you know what a slayer is? If you know what a vampire is—you're bound to've heard of the slayer!"

Shock filled his features as he covered his eyes with his hand. "No, I had no idea," he said as his hand dropped from his face. He frowned, once again glaring at Spike. "Then why the hell are you talking to him? You know what they are—creatures that live on the innocent—"

"Stop it! Of course I know what and whom Spike is!" I chuckled as I walked back to him and grabbed his hand. His cool pale fingers clutched mine as he lifted it up and kissed my knuckles. "I should know—he tried to kill me a few times. But then, so did I. That's what Slayers and vampires do—try to kill each other."

"Until things change," Spike muttered as his roped an arm around my waist and pulled me back with him as he fell back against the wall. He turned to Mac and sighed—another sight I thought I'd never see from Spike.

Mac walked over to us, noting Spike's possessive hold of my waist as he held me against his chest and nodded. "Go on—what changed?"

A cold bitter laugh rang out of the vampire's lips. "I teamed up with the slayer to save the world and fucked up the rest of my unlife! Suddenly every demon on the face of the Earth knew of my betrayal and it was just a matter of time until I fit in a dustbuster. Bloody idiot demons—why would anyone with an ounce of sense want to suck Earth into Hell? Kill all the humans—no bloody food for us. Suddenly we're no longer the feared—just peons in the echelons of Hell. I like it here—I like humans! They do great things and they taste good too! Computers, movies, books, music—why end it all?" He stopped, his eyes taking on a far-off quality as his hold on me tightened. He was remembering.

"And then, occasionally you meet up with a group of youngsters that have more courage and more bloody balls than anyone—human or demon alike—than I've seen in over 200 years and I find myself actually caring if they live. Bloody embarrassing—considering I don't have a soul and all."

Mac looked down at me in awe as if gauging my reaction to Spike's confession. It hadn't phased me—I had already heard it all before. I took a deep breath. "He was 'encouraged' to help us when we lost a couple members of our group—one being a vampire with a soul and coincidentally, Spike's sire, and so he did. For how long, Spike?"

The vampire chuckled softly. "Until the Council forcefully retired the Slayer—that was last year. Since then, I've been helping out Whistler."

"Who's Whistler?"

Would we ever get out of here? I asked myself. "A demon, but one that isn't evil." I bit my bottom lip and sighed. "Mac, can I talk to you later about this? Please?"

He shook his head and groaned. "All right. Call me in the morning, okay?"

I nodded as I stepped up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," I whispered as I fell back against Spike.

He gave Spike one more glare and left, disappearing into the night.

He'd barely turned the corner when I felt Spike's cool lips suckling on my neck as hand pressed me against his hard body.

I think my legs turned to jello.
 

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