Spike thought he knew hell, but he'd never known this one. Ten days.
Ten days, twenty-two hours, and eternity since she'd walked away, since
he'd let her walk away.

Angel had been deeply disturbed when he heard that Willow had returned
to her sire. Her demon was too strong. He couldn't get through to her,
not alone. The news that he'd left that evening to return to Sunnydale
to talk to Giles should have thrilled Spike's black heart. But he
wasn't thrilled. He wasn't anything. Not without Willow.

She'd needed him, needed his understanding, his support. He'd let her
down. She would never have gone to Angel if she thought he'd would have
listened. She hadn't lied to him. She hadn't kept anything back. When
she told him what had happened in the flat, she was trying to wipe the
slate clean, but he couldn't see past the chalky residue. He couldn't
share her with that sod. He'd endured years of that agony with
Drusilla. But Willow hadn't given herself to Angel, not really. She'd
ended up in her sire's arms, and he'd pushed her away.

She was everywhere here. Under the soaring statue of Nelson, where
she'd eyed her first kill when they'd arrived in London. Outside St.
Paul's, where she'd scolded him for disturbing the roosting pigeons.
Beside the Houses of Parliament, where she'd asked why Chamberlain or
Churchill had never been vamped. In the underground, where she'd
declared the waiting passengers were lined up like courses on a buffet
table. London had always been London--dirty, rainy, foggy,
London--until he'd seen it through her eyes.

He sat down on a bench near a bus shelter and listened to the muted
sounds of traffic from a couple streets away.

"Where are you, baby?" he whispered to the closed shops.

"Right here," the answer meandered over his shoulder.

Spike rose and turned slowly.

"Miss me?" the redhead asked.

He vaulted over the bench and yanked her against him.

"Willow," he whispered, holding her tight. "Oh, luv, I'm so sorry.
Forgive me, baby, please."

"Depends. Have you been suffering? Has it hurt so much you'd plunge a
stake soaked in holy water through your own heart before you'd go
through it again?" she asked.

Spike looked down at her as two blood-red tears trickled from his eyes.
She brought her lips to his cheeks and kissed them away.

"I love you, Willow. Nothing else matters. Not your humanity, not
Angel, nothing. Don't ever leave me again," he pleaded.

"Ever is a long time," she told him.

"Not long enough," he stated. "Forgive me."

She nodded, "If you'll forgive me. I never should have gone to him."

He laid his fingers gently over her lips, "No. This one's all mine. I'm
going to make it up to you, too."

"How?" she asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

He smiled and pulled her against him, "I'm going to take you home and
make love to you until the entire world dissolves away."

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him to her, "That works for
me."
***
Spike's lips moved needfully against Willow's as he lowered her naked
body to the bed. Her hand reached for his hard, throbbing, shaft and
stroked it once. He took her hand away and pinned it to her side.

"No, let me," he whispered.

His lips moved to her nipple and he drew it into this mouth. She arched
into him and moaned as he suckled it gently. His hand parted her legs
and dipped inside her tight channel. He began to stroke in and out in a
slow, torturing rhythm. She ground her hips against his hand.

"Please, Spike," she whispered.

"No," he said. "Ten days, little one. Ten days to make up for. This
will take time."

He entered her slowly and lay motionless inside her as he kissed her
lips, her jaw, her earlobe. Her tiny hands gripped his shoulders, and
she whimpered her need. He silenced her with a slow, wet, hungry kiss.

She drove against him, wild with frustration at his twitching cock that
was embedded inside her.

Spike chuckled and kissed her throat, "Be still, my impatient beauty.
I'll give you what you want, eventually."

He moved his hands under her and pulled her hips into him, forcing
himself into her very depths. Willow's eyes flew open and stared into
his as he began to move inside her, riding her to the edge of release
before pulling out of her and nipping the soft curve of her shoulder
with blunt teeth.

A growl rumbled from the back of Willow's throat, and she flipped him
under her, impaling herself on his rigid cock in one swift motion. Her
hands pushed against his chest as she drove herself onto him. His
strong arms caught her by the waist and drew her down against him.
Willow's demon snarled, and she bit into his neck as the intensity of
her orgasm seized her. Spike's fingers clutched at her hair as he
called out her name and filled her with his seed.
***
"Is he gone?" she asked as Spike held her tight to him and soothed away
the last of her tremblings with soft kisses.

"He went back to the Hellmouth," he answered. "He won't be coming
back."

"I can't hate him. You know that. I can deny what he wants for me. I
can subdue my humanity. I can overpower it, refuse to listen to it,
forget it's there, but I can't forget him, and I can't hate him."

"I know," he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I can deal
with that. I know whose you are."

"I'm yours," she stated. "Whose are you?"

He looked down at her and smiled, "Yours, baby. Only yours. Always.

End Part 9.
End Series.

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