Buffy sat in depressed silence. Xander fidgeted uncomfortably
across the
library table, and Oz stared, with unseeing eyes, into
space.
"I can't understand why you didn't come to me," Giles
spoke from the
door of his office.
"There wasn't time," Buffy sighed. "Everything was happening so fast."
"For all of you? Xander? Oz? Damn it all! I could have
helped!" the
watcher was as stunned as the young people before him,
and he was
struggling to maintain his composure.
Buffy recognized his anger for what it was, a means of
releasing the
horrified frustration at having lost one of their own.
She shifted in
her chair and looked up at him. He softened at the sadness
in her eyes.
"I failed her," she whispered.
Giles placed a hand on her shoulder, "You tried, Buffy.
It isn't your
fault she wouldn't listen. What I don't understand is
why Spike is so
determined to have Willow."
"Maybe his electric blanket shorted out, and he needed
a new bed
warmer," Xander spoke.
Oz looked daggers at him.
"I'm sorry," Xander said. "But what the hell is she thinking?
She knows
what Spike is!"
"Which only makes this all the more puzzling," Giles responded.
"Angel is keeping his ear to the ground," Buffy told him.
"They can't
have gotten far last night. They would have to have stopped
before
sunrise."
"I imagine so," Giles agreed.
"So what do we do?" Oz shook himself from his dazed silence.
"Sit around
and wait?"
"There's little else we can do at the moment. I've contacted
the
council, and they've got feelers out. I'm sure we'll
hear something
soon, either from them or Angel."
Giles hopeful comment did nothing to lift anyone's spirits.
***
Spike watched his little redhead sleeping beside him.
He was mildly
frustrated at having to flee Sunnydale. It hadn't been
part of his plan.
His thoughts drifted as Willow breathed softly on his
shoulder. How was
it she had come to mean so much to him so quickly? Her
fire and
innocence had been the initial attraction for him. The
certain knowledge
that fucking chaste little Willow would turn the slayer
inside out had
been a definite bonus. And that was precisely what this
was to have
been--fuck Willow; screw over the slayer; leave Willow.
But he'd
realized the other night in her bed, as she lay sleeping
against his
still heart, that his original plan had been shot to
hell. There was no
way he wanted out.
"So, what now?" Spike asked himself. He wanted to get
back to Sunnydale.
Willow belonged there. Hell, he belonged there. And truth
be told, he
actually enjoyed warring against the slayer and her wretched
vampire.
Countless opportunities to rub their noses in his relationship
with
Willow appealed to his sadistic mind. And when he eventually,
inevitably, turned his lover and claimed her as his princess,
the slayer
would be rattled to her soul. Spike laughed softly at
the thought.
Willow stirred beside him, and he pulled her warm body
close and
captured her mouth in a deep kiss. She smiled against
his lips and
wrapped her arms around him.
"The sun will be setting soon," Spike shook himself from
his former
musings. "Hungry, pet?"
"Starving," she admitted.
"Let's satisfy one appetite first. Then we'll work on
the other," he
suggested as he moved on top of her and nestled a finger
in the soft
flesh of her pussy.
"Sounds reasonable," she sighed as she raised one knee,
ran her palm
down his back to rest on his tight ass, and gripped him
hard.
A growl rumbled in his throat, and he brushed her hair
aside and nuzzled
her neck as he buried his throbbing cock inside her.
All thoughts of
Sunnydale and the slayer vanised from his mind as his
senses were
overcome by the scent of the woman beneath him and the
feel of her hot
channel gripping his cold shaft in unashamed lust.
Their bodies moved together seeking the release they
each needed.
Neither the vampire nor his lady could foresee the coming
events that
would drag them back to the Hellmouth.
End.