Spike was awakened by the absence of Willow's warm
body beside him. He reached for his jeans and pulled
them on before leaving the bedroom. He discovered her
sitting on the far end of the sofa in the darkened
living room.
Willow was staring sightlessly at the roses in her
hands. A card lay on the cushion beside her, and Spike
picked it up and read its simple message, "I'm sorry."
Suppressing a snarl, he sat down close to her, letting
the card fall through his fingers to the floor.
"They were on the doorstep," she said softly. "I was
going out for a walk and found them."
"Didn't have the balls to hand them to you
personally," the vampire scoffed.
She looked at him reproachfully, "Doesn't mean he
isn't sincere."
"Fine. He's sincere. Does a handful of flowers wipe
out everything he's put you through?"
She shook her head, "No. I feel bad, though. Maybe I
shouldn't have hit him."
"He deserved a lot worse, pet. Unless you're telling
me you want him back. Forgive and forget?"
She leaned against him, "Forgiveness isn't really an
issue. I'm not sure I even care, anymore. And I can't
forget, not after all those weeks of hurting."
"Good," he nodded. "You let him back in, and what's to
say he won't bolt again the next time things get
rough?"
"I know," she agreed. "He just seems so--determined."
"The mutt's a fool, but he's got taste. I'll give him
that," Spike said, brushing a lock of hair from her
eyes.
"Why did he have to come back now, just when I'd
gotten things right-side-up again?" she sighed. "I'm
sorry to drag you through all this again."
He put his arm around her and rested his cheek against
her temple, "Don't apologize, luv. It isn't your fault
he decided to come back. We dealt with him before. We
can do it again."
She smiled and took the hand he had laid in her lap,
lacing her fingers through his, "I'm going to have to
talk to him. I'm going to have to make him hear me."
"Won't work," he told her.
She turned her head to look at him.
"Willow, you've talked to him. The slayer has talked
to him. Has it worked up to this point?" he asked her.
She shook her head.
"Then what makes you think anything is going to
change? What can you possibly say that hasn't already
been said?"
"Then what am I supposed to do? It's pretty obvious he
isn't going to give it up. How am I going to get him
to leave me alone?"
He studied her for a moment, and she looked at him
uneasily.
"I'm not sure which is scarier, you sitting there
thinking, or you sitting there telling me what you're
thinking," she said.
"You won't like it," he told her.
"I suspected as much," she nodded. "Out with it, old
man."
"I'm not even sure you can do it," he added and fought
the urge to grin as a flash of anger illuminated her
green eyes.
"What is that supposed to mean?" she growled and stood
up. "You think I'm too weak? Too soft? Poor little
Willow can't stand up for herself? You do remember I
smacked him last night, after HE hit YOU! So, I sure
as hell can...do...whatever it is I'm ranting about
that you haven't had a chance to explain, yet."
Spike chuckled as her angry tirade ended in the soft
blush that spread over her cheeks. He reached for her
hand and tugged her back down beside him.
"Talking to him isn't working, agreed?" he asked.
She stared down at the roses she had dropped on the
floor and nodded, "Yeah."
"So, no more words. Actions, instead," he suggested.
"I already hit him," she said.
"And believe me, luv, the sound of your hand against
the sod's muzzle was an experience worth reliving, but
that didn't work, either, did it?"
"No, but I don't know what else to do."
"You aren't. I am," he told her.
"You are? I don't get it."
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Of course I do," she nodded. "But I don't see what
you think you can do. You can't fight him. You can't
hurt him--"
"Don't you believe it," he warned her.
"Spike, what the hell are you thinking?" she demanded.
"Do you trust me?" he repeated.
"Yes!" she sighed in frustration. "I already told
you--
He took her chin in his hand and drew her eyes to his,
"Trust me."
She held his gaze for a moment before responding, "All
right, if that's what you need. Will it hurt him?"
"Yes," he answered, trying to gauge her reaction. "I'd
never hurt you, luv. Even if I could, I wouldn't. But
yes, it will hurt him."
"I don't know if I want that," she confessed. "I don't
love him, but--"
"I can do it without your consent," he told her. "But
I'd rather do it with. I want you with me. I want him
out of your life. If you really want him to let you
go, I can make it happen."
"Okay," she agreed.
He pulled her close to him and kissed her softly,
"Come back to bed."
She stood with him, and he put his arm around her and
guided her back down the hallway toward the bedroom.
"I don't suppose you're planning on helping Oz get
over me by taking him on a midnight spin on a
motorcycle," Willow said sleepily as he followed her
into bed.
"Try a road trip to hell," the vampire thought to
himself as she moved close to him and sought his mouth
with her own.
End.