Spike
I'm not sure how long we stood there—my arms wrapped around her small, shaking body, but after her sobs had died down to small sniffles, I pulled back and looked down at her wet face.
She lifted her head to meet my gaze.
The first thing I noticed was her eyes. Although they probably would never reflect that innocent wonder I had so long associated with her, I could've sworn I saw a sparkle of life in them.
Is that all it took? What did those bloody fools do to her in the seven years that she was with them? Why in the hell didn't she ever find peace in all that time? And why did it take me, a soul-less demon to give her the solace she so desperately needed?
Brushing off her tears, I smiled down at her and felt her arms tighten their clasp around my waist. "Are you alright now, pet?"
She nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded. "I needed this," she said as her eyes shut against a new round of tears. She pulled an arm free and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Only someone who knew me before could understand why this is so hard for me." She started chuckling softly. "And unfortunately, or maybe it's fortunately, you Spike represent my old life."
"It is kinda bloody ironic, isn't it, pet?" I commented as I kissed the top of her head. I felt her nod against my chest and suddenly I felt this need to take her away with me and hide her from all the horrors of her Immortal life.
It wasn't a secret that since Dru had left me nearly ten years before, I had been searching for someone to share my unlife with. Demons weren't known for committed relationships, but, once again, I wasn't like normal demons.
I wanted the companionship and love. I needed it. It was the only thing that made everything else worth while. Why go slaughter a bunch of innocents if you can't share the blood with someone?
Why live forever if you're going to be alone?
When I began to work with the Slayer and her friends, I found myself drawn to this little pixie I held in my arms. She possessed the same vulnerability and innocence that Dru had, but without the insanity that I had long ago grown weary of.
When I saw her die, I saw my hope die as well.
And now, I was holding that same hope in my arms, and in that moment, I decided I wasn't going to let her go this time.
She was stuck with me.
Whether she liked it or not.
I pulled back a bit and smiled down at her. "Luv, let's get out of here. A dark, smelly alley is not where I want to spend the rest of the night with you," I whispered as I dipped my head down and kissed her hot cheek.
She nodded in agreement as a smile so beautiful that it nearly scorched me with its intensity, lit her face. She stepped back, reaching for me hand.
Hand in hand, together we left the alley.
Willow
One of things that I first admired, then loved about Spike, was how he loved. Maybe it was the demon in him. Demons, like most of Hell's beings, are creatures of extremes.
Even the ones like Whistler and Doyle.
I remember one night when Cordellia called, wanting me to look up something on the computer for her about a case they were working on, and something incredible happened. We ended up talking for hours. It's funny how she could forgive me once she was over a hundred miles from Xander and me. Or maybe it was the phone and our voices somehow precluded all pretenses and she was finally showing that part of her that I saw bits and pieces of when she and Xander were dating.
That night, we ended up sharing demon stories. She was bitching about Doyle and Angel and I was complaining about Anya and Spike.
Even though Anya was human, she had no soul—she was all demon—with 1200 years of experiences under her belt. And despite that—I found myself liking her. She was naive, but not. Innocent, but not. Brave, but not. A total contradiction and infuriating as all hell.
But the thing that Cordy and I learned that night was all four of these demons that were in close contact had similar qualities: obsessive, compulsive behavior. Angel's apparently incredibly neurotic about order and cleanliness. Doyle drank, ate, and gambled way too much. Anya, she would latch onto something and stick to it like glue. That first year—it was Xander.
Then it was computers. It went on and on and on.
And then there was Spike. Early on, he became me and Oz's protector. This meant, we couldn't seem to go anywhere without him. Oh sure, we tried ditching him a few times, but nearly every time, the hairs on the back of my neck would tickle and feeling of calmness would wash over me—and I knew, he was there—standing guard. Sometimes in addition to that, I would spot a glowing cigarette in the dark, or a flapping coat in the moonlight.
I never told Oz.
I don't think he would've taken it too well.
There were other things I noticed about him—his unwavering love for Dru—even now, I know a part of him loves her; his compulsive need to do a job well, even if he didn't want to do it to begin with.
That's why he and Buffy made such a good team. He was her perfect partner.
I guess the bigger question is, is he my perfect partner?
Although the rational, intellectual Willow is screaming to take it slow—use prudence in making the decision—don't let my hormones and innate loneliness provoke me into making my life into a worse mess than it already is…
But for the first time in seven years, I've decided to listen to my heart. It's been ignored, beaten into submission and ridiculed for way too long. And right now it's preparing to do a happy dance in the middle of my chest—to celebrate its re-emergence back into my life.
And you know what? It feels good. Maybe it wasn't just the killings that were wearing down my soul—maybe it was the coldness of my heart.
As I look down at our entwined fingers, I can't help but wonder if that isn't true.
I guess I'll find out.