Rating: PG-13
Category: Romance, Angst
Spoilers: Not really, but 4th season just for my own peace of mind; Oz is gone, Tara hasn't gotten her claws into Willow yet, and the travesty that is Spike and Buffy only ever happens in "Something Blue"; Angel is Spike's true sire
Couple: S/W
Keywords: kinda mushy, this will probably become an inner section to a longer story if I get enough feedback
Disclaimer: Please, if I owned Spike would I really let Willow borrow him?
Summary: Just some really nice things that need to be said to both of these characters, by someone who really means them
Feedback: I won't write anymore if I don't get any
Dedication: I didn't have this beta'd and my dreams gave me the idea
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He was holding her hand in a vice grip, afraid if he loosened his hold for even a second that he would lose her somehow. That she would slip away from him. And he was getting the frightening beginnings of a feeling that if he lost her, he would lose himself to the demon, completely. He had always had a better control on his demon than any other vampire he had ever known, and he knew if he stopped fighting, if something made him give up his need to keep even a sliver of humanity, he wouldn't last long. He'd be killed by the recklessness of the demon, just like any common fledging. Of course, without her to make him want to live, he didn't really think that was a bad thing.
Lost in his inner ramblings, lost in his own tortured thoughts of loneliness and the fear of never being good enough, Spike didn't immediately notice that she was talking to him. Using his hold on her hand to tug at him, planting her feet and resolutely refusing to go any further, Willow finally got his attention with a squealed, "Ow!" He spun, a look of pure terror on his face, too afraid that he had hurt her to do more than wince as the chip fired in his brain, proof that he had indeed hurt her.
"Oh god, Willow, are you alright? I'm so sorry baby. I wasn't paying attention. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, please?!" His eyes wide with terror, his hands flew over her, not touching her for fear of hurting her again, sure that he wasn't worthy of touching her, but needing to assure himself of the extent of her injuries. He could stake himself later, now he needed to know if she was all right. The look on his face was one of pure horror and indescribable grief. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, sure of the hatred and pain he would find there.
She almost laughed at his antics, almost. Until she realized he was being serious, and she recognized that he truly had no idea what he was doing. Recognized that look in his eyes as one of being completely lost, and having no idea how to find your way. He wasn't used to humans as anything more than food. He'd forgotten his own strength, and that the hand he held was a mortals. It was a mistake, and she wasn't angry or scared, at least until she saw that look.
Willow reached out her hand to brush her fingertips across his cheek, and almost let a sob pass her lips when he flinched and pulled away in shame. Taking a firm hold on his forearm, and forcing him to turn back to her, she again touched his face, taking his chin in her hand, drawing his eyes to hers. They rolled away from her. He was too ashamed to meet her gaze, but too repentant to fight her control of him. Also, even thought he knew he wasn't worthy, he couldn't help but revel in her touch, in absorbing every sensation he could while she was here with him. When she spoke, the words didn't immediately cut through the fog of his shame, but the tone, one of compassion and understanding, reached him even in the recesses of his fear-addled mind, and he couldn't help but wonder at the amazing woman in front of him that she would comfort him after he hurt her, that she would even try to calm his fears when she should have been screaming at him in anger, or running away in terror of him, was what brought him out of his stupor so that he caught the tail end of what she was saying.
"- a little. It's no big deal."
Confusion was written on his face. He was so confused by her actions, by his feelings for her, by the look he was surely fooling himself into believing that he was seeing in her eyes by the sheer wonder that was Willow. "What did you say?"
A small smile graced her lips and grew at his almost whispered question. She had known he wasn't listening, but she had managed to get through to him finally, and she didn't mind repeating herself, not to him. "I said You didn't hurt me, not really. It was just that I stopped walking, and you pulled on my arm a little. It's no big deal." She squeezed his hand with the hand that had held his chin to show she was all right, and was graced with his eyes finally meeting hers. The look of sorrow and complete contrition in those crystal blue eyes was almost enough to bring tears to her own green ones. But she couldn't cry, not now, he would get the wrong idea, so she squared her shoulders and smiled a big goofy grin at him, affecting her best scolding teacher voice a pretty good one in fact, from her time as substitute for Ms. Calendars computer class and asked the question that had gotten them into this misunderstanding. "What were you thinking about, when we were walking? Something was bothering you. You were almost brooding." She accused with an evil glint in her eye, hoping the slight dig and reference to his hated sire would shake him out of his funk. She got what she wanted.
"I do not brood!" Bloody hell, he had been brooding! He had been so lost in his thoughts of the possibility of losing her, that he had hurt her, and now she was making fun of him to lighten the mood. What a bleeding ponce he was becoming. Best not to let her know that.
He stepped into her space, towering over her, forcing her head back on her long, pale neck so she could maintain eye contact. He looked down at her with all the menace and threat he had learned over the last 126 years which was a lot and smirking, backed her into a tree. Placing both hands on either side of her head, effectively caging her, he leaned into her, smelling the tiniest hint of fear. Her eyes still held their sense of mischief, but now they held something else as well just a bit of apprehension. His smirk became his most evil grin as he tilted his head to the side, sliding his tongue along his teeth, lowering his face to her neck. He whispered in her ear, "I do not brood." He accentuated his point with a light nipping graze of his blunt teeth along the sensitive skin covering her pulse, and then stood back from her, his eyes daring her to argue with him.
She didn't, but she didn't drop the subject either. "What were you thinking about? You were so lost in thought." Leaning against the tree, not really trusting her legs to support her, she still wasn't going to back down from her original curiosity, no matter how weak her knees got when he went anywhere near her neck. Logic told her she shouldn't get all hot and bothered by what was essentially a predatory act, especially coming from a being that in fact killed that way, but logic didn't exactly prevail whenever Spike was around.
Still smirking at her reaction to him, sniffing the air that was no longer perfumed with her fear, but instead with just a hint of arousal, he let his eyes roam her body. Noticing her slightly shaking form, how she still supported herself on the tree behind her. He heard her heart rate pick back up in response to his leering gaze. He brought his eyes back to hers and let just a bit of the demon out, just enough to tint his eyes with the barest hint of amber, knowing she would see and understand. Stepping into her again, he let his left hand graze her stomach, lightly shifting the material of her shirt across her skin. He didn't touch her in any other way, but it was enough. She gasped, and caught her breath, her eyes glazed over and darkened, her pupils dilating. He loved her response to him. She was so open in her passion, something he was willing to believe none of her friends had even guessed about her. He lied to her. Not a big lie, but a lie just the same. He didn't want her to know his fears, and didn't see any reason why he should admit to being such a nancy-boy wanker in his own thoughts. Bad enough he had to admit it to himself.
With as much lasciviousness as he was capable, to keep her off guard and in the state that he wanted her in, he responded with as much of the truth as he was willing to expose, "I was thinking about you, luv. What I was going to do to you once I got us behind a set of closed doors. But if you would rather stay here, asking questions, and accusing me of brooding, I think I might have to find something else for you to do with your mouth." And then he kissed her. It was just a light brush of his lips across hers, just the barest hint of pressure; then, a wet sweep of his tongue along the outline of her sweet lips. There was no more leering, no more teasing, no more overtly sexual and let's face it, dirty advances, only gentle kisses. He wanted her aroused, but he didn't want her calling everything with a nose within a mile radius with the delicious scent of that arousal. Besides, he liked to keep her off guard, he could be demanding and forceful one minute, and soft and sensual the next. Kept her from anticipating him, kept her curious and wanting more. Hopefully, it kept her as his. Brooding again, joy. Bleeding ponce.
Anxious to get them to her house where they could properly continue this ahem "discussion", and to get away from his own disturbingly nancy-ish thoughts, he stepped out of the little pocket of heat she radiated, took her hand in his again, although discernibly more gently this time, and began to pull her along the sidewalk towards her parents house.
Again she stopped him by planting her feet, only this time he noticed the moment she tensed against him.
"Come on, pet, before some other blood-thirsty animal decides he'd like to sample such a tasty little morsel." He tried to get her moving again without turning to look at her, knowing she was stalling in an attempt to pull that truth out of him that she knew he was keeping from her.
Again, she simply planted her feet, and aborted his attempt at getting her moving. Her small hand in his, squeezed his fingers, gentle pressure meant to attract his attention. When his eyes met hers, he knew he was through, she meant to have this discussion, and would not be swayed.
Her green eyes wide with confusion, and just a hint of betrayal, she nevertheless spoke with conviction, "What aren't you telling me? There's something on your mind, and it's got you worried. I need you to trust me, Spike, I need you to tell me the truth so I can trust you."
Again, it wasn't the words, but the tone with which they were spoken that broke him. She almost sounded defeated, as if the thought that he didn't trust her was causing her physical pain.
So he did the only thing possible. He told her his deepest, darkest secret. "I was brooding. Wondering when you were gonna come to your senses and realize that you're much too good for me. That I'm beneath you, like I've always been. Like I always will be. Wondering when you would leave me, alone again, like I deserve to be." Never once did his eyes waver from the spot on the ground just between his boots as he told her his worst fear. He couldn't bear to see the look he knew was in her own eyes, as he poured out his pathetic heart to her. She would leave him, he knew it, but the pain was more than he could bear, so he stared at the sidewalk, and waited for her hand to pull away from his. Waited for her to walk out of his world, and into the one she deserved. A world of light and goodness that he would never, could never, enter.
Instead he felt the gentle pressure of her hand again. This time tugging on his to move him along as he had been trying to move her. He didn't resist. She led him to one of the picnic tables surrounding the playground they were passing, and pushed him down on the bench. Then her hand did leave his, and he was sure he would greet the morning sun in this same position. Until he felt the heat of her envelope him, felt the subtle weight of her as she sat herself down on his lap. She pulled his arms around her waist where they clung to her with desperate need. She put one curled finger under his chin, and pulled his gaze to hers. Leaning into his chest, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, running her fingers into his hair to keep him from looking away, and spoke the words that changed him. "I'm not really sure yet, I've only ever felt this way once before, but I think I'm falling in love with you. It's ok that you're afraid, so am I. But you can tell me your fears. I need you to tell them to me. I need to help you, Spike. I need you to let me help you. I need you to trust me, and trust in me. I need you."
And there it was. That illusive look. That certain something he had been searching for in the eyes of the ones he loved all of life, and his un-life, too. That spark of true caring and feeling that he had never seen directed toward him from anyone other than his mortal mother. Love. Pure and simple. His heart, had it been beating, would have stopped.
He had no idea what to say. So he kissed her. With all the passion and feeling he had been storing up for almost a century and a half. His cool lips brushed her warm ones, his tongue begging entry to her mouth, and claiming hers once she acquiesced. Tasting her as if it were the first and last time. Stroking the silky confines, sliding along the ridges of her teeth, his tongue memorized every taste and sensation.
When he had to release her mouth so she could gasp in air, he slowly made his way along her jaw, to her ear, with soft sweet kisses. He whispered, so low that she barely heard it, so softly that it was little more than his breath upon her ear, "I am sure. I've fallen, Red. I love you. I trust you. I need you."
The End