~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 

Willow shifted in her chair uncomfortably. Spike's ice-blue eyes were boring
holes into her. She continued to pretend to read for a few moments. Finally
she threw down her book and glared at him.

"WHAT!?" she demanded.

"You mean you don't know?" he asked, his expression pinched.

"I don't know what?" she asked.

"Well, if you don't know, I'm not bloody well going to tell you!" he
exclaimed, grabbing his duster and slamming Giles' door behind him as he
stormed out into the night.

"What was that all about?" Buffy asked. "And when did Giles start letting
him go out unattended?"

"Since he stopped spilling blood all over Giles' best Brooks' Brothers
shirts," Willow said, flipping through a copy of Thornton's Demonologie.

"And the vampiric premenstrual hissy?" Buffy asked.

"He's feeling blood-bloated and unappreciated?" Willow grinned. She tried to
shake off the feeling that there was more to Spike's behavior. He had been
so touchy lately. Snapping at her for the least little thing. Acting
uncomfortable and edgy whenever she came within an arm's reach.

She closed her book and threw it in her backpack.

"I gotta go," she said. "Mom and Dad are supposed to be back from Singapore
tomorrow and I've got to open up the house."

"You want me to walk you?" Buffy asked.

"No thanks," Willow shrugged. "Besides, don't you have a patrol date with
Riley in like, three seconds?"

Buffy glanced at her watch. "Sheez! I gotta go!"

"Have fuuuun," Willow sang.

"I willlll," Buffy grinned, kissing her friend's cheek. "Be careful."

"Always," Willow nodded as they went out the front door. Buffy turned and
walked in the opposite direction. Willow sighed and headed toward her house.
Alone.
Again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Willow!"
KA-CLINK

"Willow!"
KA-CLINK

Willow blinked out of sleep. What the hell?
The witch lifted her head from the pillow. Someone was shouting from her
lawn and throwing pebbles at her window.

"WILLOW!"
KA-CRASH!

Glass from the window peppered her carpet as she stumbled to her balcony.
She opened the window. Suddenly a small rock sailed through the air and
conked her on the forehead.

"OWWW!" she shrieked, clutching her head. "SPIKE!"

"Ooops," Spike giggled drunkenly and collapsed to the ground. "Sorry, pet!"

"Spike!" she hissed, checking for blood on her palm. "What in the hell are
you doing?"

"Sorry!" he whispered, well, sort of. "Pet, I want to talk to you."

"You are talking to me," she said.

"No! No!" he said stumbling towards her trellice. Willow cringed as he
perilously climbed to her balcony. He threw one leg and then the other over
the ledge. He slipped back, she grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

"Thanks, pet," he grinned as he slumped back against her bedroom all.

"Spike, what the hell are you doing here?" she asked, suddenly realizing she
had come out into the chilly night wearing only the green cotton camisole
and panties she had been sleeping in.

"Groveling," he slurred.

"Huh?" her brows drew together.

"I want you, Willow," he sighed. She could smell the whiskey coming off him
in waves. "I always have. Ever since I first saw you in those frilly little
jumpers and the fuzzy-wuzzy little sweaters. I just couldn't keep my eyes
off you. I'd follow you around like a little lost puppy looking for it's…
Willow. You are so beautiful and you don't even know it. And you're so
sweet and smart…"
He paused as if looking for a reaction from her. She felt like she was
drowning. Spike? Wanted her? When did this happen? How?

"When I got this stupid chip in my head and where's the first place I run?
To you. And I lied, it wasn't there cause I wanted to bite Buffy. It was
because you were the only place I could think to go. But I could see how
scared you were. I thought I'd lost you completely, but then I moved into
Giles' house and there you were. Every day. Babysitting me. Talking to me.
The only one who made sure I was fed. So sweet to me. I can touch you. Hold
you. Kiss you. You're right there. But you never think of me like that. Not
in the way I think of you. And I just can't any more…"

Somehow her hand reached out for his. Her warm fingers twined through his.
His thumbs traced little loving patterns over her palms.

"I can't pretend I don't want you," he said. His voice washed over her in
cool sweet waves. He brushed his palms over her cheeks, caressing her face.
"I can't be near you without touching you. I….See what you've done to me?
I'm swallowing my pride. I don't have any pride left. It's just me…I'm
begging you…I'm just a vamp standing before a girl asking her to love him…"

"Nooooo more Julia Roberts movies for you," she giggled uncomfortably. Shit!
What did she do now? Tell him thanks but she just liked him as a friend? Not
in that way? Well, that would be a big ol' lie. But how the hell did she go
about telling a century-old vampire that she had had a huge crush on him
since 10th grade? Without sounding like a loser?

"You're laughing at me," he groaned. "I knew it. You don't like me."

"No, Spike, that's not it," she said. He got up, threatening to keel over.
She stood, grabbing his elbows to brace him. He slumped against her, his
weight falling completely over her. She gasped as they tilted back. She lost
her balance, taking Spike with her. On the way down, she felt her temple
connect with the corner of her dresser. She blacked out before they slumped
to her bed.

"Girls smell nice," he mumbled as a curtain of unconsciousness drew over his
eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Owwwwww..." Willow groaned. Her head was throbbing mercilessly. What the
hell happened? Something cold and heavy was weighing down her body. She
lifted her hand felt a wide, smooth forehead. A long noble nose. Full lips.
Her eyes snapped open.

SPIKE! ACK! What the hell was Spike doing on top of her in her bed? She
looked down, he was fully clothed. That was good. Pants were good.

Suddenly memories of the night before flooded back to her. Spike's drunken
confession. Falling and whacking her head on the dresser.

Anger boiled under skin. How dare he? what did he expect coming stumbling up
to her balcony like some drunk Romeo? What? One screwed up quote from
"Notting Hill" and she was suposed to be jelly? He probably didn't even like
her, it was just him being horny and drunk and not knowing anybody else who
might be willing.

Fortified with early morning rage, she shoved his dead weight from her body
and sprung out of bed. She stomped to the shower and turned on the water as
hot as it would go.

How was she going to get him out of here? She knew she couldn't exactly
shove him out the door in broad daylight. But it was tempting.

She let the stinging spray knead her tense shoulders. She leaned her palms
against the tiled wall, letting the water work its spell. She felt the
tension slowly ebb from her temples.

And two cool hands sliding over the ridges of her spine.

"ACK!" she screamed and turned around to find a naked blonde vampire
standing in her shower. Her hands flew up to cover her breasts. "SPIKE!"

"Skooch over will you, pet?" he yawned, wrapping his arms around her.
She slapped her hands against his chest. His very nice firm chest.
(Ignore the nice chest, Willow. Get beyond the chest.) Her fingers brushed
over his small, dark nipples. He grinned.

"So, pet does want to play this early in the morning," he leaned in and
planted a fierce kiss on her lips, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She
squealed into his mouth. He swallowed her whimpers and cupped her breasts in
his cool hands, running his thumbs over the coral nubs until they were taut
and pebbled.

"Spi-Spike!" she gasped as she shoved him away. "Get away from me. We didn't
play last night."

"Then why did I wake up in your bed, thoroughly disheveled?" he grinned
wickedly.

"You passed out after some drunken ramblings."

"Awww," he chuckled, teasing her nipples between his fingers. She slapped
his hands away. "Don't try to deny it, pet-"

"Spike, do you remember fucking me last night?" she demanded. He looked
blank for a moment. "Don't you think if we had, your no-doubt outstanding
skills as a lover would at least merit a fuzzy memory or two?"

He nodded slowly.

"Aw, shit, I'm sorry, pet," he winced. "What exactly did happen last night?"

She grabbed the shampoo. Well, he had already seen her naked, no point in
hiding now. She rubbed it into her hair and began massaging her scalp. He
pushed her hands away and started squeezing the lather through her hair.

"What exactly did I say?" he asked hesitantly. He began arranging her hair
in soapy spikes around her head.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her eyebrow arched. His hands dropped. "You
said you liked me, you wanted me and you couldn't stay around me anymore
without touching me."

His jaw dropped, he slapped his forehead.

"I know, it's ridiculous, isn't it?" she laughed hollowly. "I mean, what you
could possibly see in me? I know it was probably just the liquor talking."

"What!?" he demanded, grabbing her shoulders. "Pet, if anything I get more
honest when I'm tossed. It's why Angelus stayed pissed at me for a decade
after a particularly large groat. If I say I want you, it means, I want you.
Nothing else."

"Spike, stop it," she rolled her eyes, pushing his hands away. "You don't
have to-"

He stopped her mouth with another soul-seizing kiss. She moaned. The
conflicting sensations of the hot water and the cool touch of his lips was
too much. His hands roamed over her body, testing and teasing her warm
yielding flesh. She arched against him. He cupped her face between his
palms.

She whimpered into his mouth. His fingers tangled in her hair and gently
pulled her head back. His tongue ran along her throat.

"If I say I want you," he purred. "It means I want you."
 

Willow shoved Spike away from her.

"Spike, don't tease me," she growled. "I can't take teasing, not from you."

"I'm not teasing you, love," he said, grabbing at her wrist. "I'm trying to
seduce you."

"And a brilliant job you're doing of it, too," she glared through the wet
crimson curtain of her hair. Her eyes flashed an angry emerald green. "Just
get out of my shower. Now."

He sighed and pulled the curtain aside. Willow leaned her head against the
cool tiles of the shower. She pondered how wrong it might be to bless the
tap water and ask him if he wanted to take a bubble bath.

Turning off the faucet, She reached blindly for a towel hanging near the
shower stall. She felt cool fingers close around her wrist. She cried out
and drew back as if she had been scorched.

"Spike!" she cried slapping wildly through the plastic curtain. "Leave me
alone!"

"Ow! Ow!" he yelled as her fingers collided with his eyes and cheeks. "Ow!
Stop that!"

He jerked the shower curtain back. Willow tried not to notice the way little
breads of water clung to his smooth pale flesh as she struggled to cover her
own. He pulled her out of the tub and began gently buffing her skin.

"Spike, I asked you to leave."

"I'm not leaving until the fact that I want you desperately gets through
that stubborn head of yours," he said, knocking on her forehead gently. "And
neither are you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Your bedroom door," he said. "I stole the key. And you're not getting out
of this room until you admit that A- my feelings for you are real. B- You're
crazy about me, too. Or A and B... wait a second, I',m still sort of hung
over... did that make sense?"

"NO!" she shouted, wrapping her towel around her body. She shoved past him
and marched to her door. It really was locked. She screamed with
frustration. Her parents had insisted they install that lock "as a symbol of
trust" between them- translation: She got to lock the door. Provided they
had a copy of the key and could come in and rifle through her stuff.

Spike's cool fingers traced the lines of her spine.

"Spike, you seem to have forgotten a few key details. I'm a human, I need to
eat!"

"Which is why I have this cooler full of food." Spike said, pointing in the
corner. "But I don't think we'll be in here that long."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Giles and Buffy will come looking for me."

"Nope, I just called them an explained the whole situation," he grinned.
"They understand completely. You've been putting a lot of pressure on
yourself lately, it's no small wonder you came down with chicken pox."

"WHAT!" she cried. "I had chicken pox when I was five! You can't catch them
twice!"

"They don't know that," Spike shrugged. "Neither one of them has had it, so
it's up to me, uninfectable undead that I am to nurse you back to health."

"You diabolical BASTARD!" she gasped.

"No escape, pet." he whispered against her neck. "Not until you admit it."

"Admit what?" she asked, whimpering slightly as he lapped at the moisture
trailing her neck.

"You want me," he whispered, his hands cupping her breasts, kneading.

"I don't..." she murmured.

"You don't want this?" he asked, pushing her towel to the floor. his hands
skimmed the length of her body leaving an icy trail of sensation over her
skin. She gasped, throwing her head back. It cradled perfectly against the
hollow of his shoulder.

"No," she squeaked.

"If you say so..." he grinned, stepping back from her. "We'll see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Willow, you might as well come out, cause I'm not leaving until you admit
you love me," he said through the bathroom door.

"NO!" Came her muffled cry from the other side.

"Puh-lease?"

"NO!"

"I've waited 130 years for someone to say it and mean it, I can wait a
little longer."

A moment of silence passed. Well, he snorted, at least she wasn't saying no.
The door eased open.

"Dru never said she loved you?" she asked, her eyes wide and green and full
of true concern. She had thrown on a pair of khaki shorts and a emerald
green t-shirt before seeking refuge in the bathroom. She had tried sitting
in the empty tub and reading, but with Spike pounding on the door and
constantly needling her, it was nearly impossible.

"Oh, sure, she said she loved me," Spike shrugged. "But she also said she
loved Miss Edith, tea cakes and the little circles you get you punch holes
through paper."

"Good point," she nodded.

"So are you ready to admit it?" he asked, stroking her cheek.

"Nope," she shook her head and slammed the bathroom door again.

"Damn!" he shouted. "Well, you could at least come out and talk to me! I'm
getting bored!"

"Read something!"

"With all the bloody Jane Austen lying around?" he asked. "I don't think
so!"

She swung the door open. "I do not have any Jane Austen-"

"AHA!" he grabbed her about the waist and slung her onto the bed.

"Ooof!" she cried. He pounced on her, holding her wrists and waist down.
"That's not fair! You're playing dirty!"

"All's fair in love and war," he shrugged, pinning her to the mattress.

She traced the lines of his chest with her warm fingers. He grinned. Right
up until the moment she took hold of one of his nipples and twisted it
mercilessly.

He yelped and tumbled off the bed. "OW!"

"All fair.." she shrugged.

"Yeah, but I don't know whether to smack you or beg you to do it again!"
 

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