Spoilers: Post-season 7 of BtVS, and Season 5 of Angel, but AU (Author's Universe) - Some things will be mentioned from both series, but this takes place down the road in Season 5 of Angel in my own little universe.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I wish I did, but I don't. Joss does...greedy stinkpot. He can afford to share them with me so I can play. The song Misery, which inspired this whole evil plot-bunny that hopped on my head until I sat down and wrote, is off the CD Missundaztood by Pink.
Feedback: If you want to, I won't say no.
A/N1: Super-special big thanks to my beta Jenni, who, it appears, not only shares with me a love of W/S fics, but a love of Richie Sambora as well. You've got class and great taste sweetie!
A/N2: There will be a sequel.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spike glanced nervously between Angel and Willow. If Red said he bit her, then he bit her. He was becomin' right pissed, though. He'd had sex, not to mention hot, fresh witch's blood, and he'd been too drunk to remember any of it. The few flashes of memories he did have hinted at a right satisfyin' shag. On top of that, the Poof was snarlin' at him, lookin' very Angelus-like at the moment. Think quick, mate, unless you want to end up on the wrong end of a Dirt Devil.
"How do you know it was even me? I don't remember all that much," Spike defended himself.
Willow shot the vampire a disbelieving glare. "Oh, right! We came here from the bar, I went down the hall, had sex with Angel, let him bite me, then I came back to *your* room, crawled naked into *your* bed, and passed out." Her sarcasm was clearly evident, and if it wasn't the eye-rolling drove her point home.
Spike tried to look appalled when he turned his attention to his grandsire who still had him by the throat, and tried to choke out, "Peaches, you should be ashamed! What, shaggin' and bitin' poor Red here. Slayer's gonna be mighty brassed off at you, mate."
"Spike, how stupid do you think we are, huh?" Angel dragged the vampire by the scruff of the neck back to the bed. "Willow, let me see the bite again."
The redhead glanced up at him, curiosity clear in her eyes, but she obeyed. She tugged the sheet low enough to expose the neat twin puncture holes evident on the porcelain pale skin of her breast. Angel knelt on the bed and peered intently at the bite. Gripping Spike's neck, he shoved him close as well, drawing a protesting squeak from Willow.
"It may have been a while, Spike, but I still recognize your bite mark."
Spike knew he was in trouble...even more so than Angel realized at the moment. He inhaled, discreetly, and stifled a curse. His claim was clearly evident. The Poof was just too busy acting the part of overprotective big brother vampire right then to notice. What the bloody hell happened last night that would have made him claim Red?
Angel shook Spike by the scruff of his neck to get his attention. His grandchilde's gaze was locked on Willow's breast, and a blush to match her hair was slowly creeping upwards from her chest toward her neck and face.
"Spike," he snarled, "what the hell were you thinking?"
The blonde's eyes traveled upward to meet Willow's nervous gaze. What the bloody hell did they want him to say? "Sorry?"
"Sorry?" Willow frowned, her indignation straightening her spine. "You're sorry? You bit me! Why?" She tugged the sheet higher, once again masking his mark.
Angel looked decidedly awkward in response to her question, while a smirk slowly formed on Spike's face.
"Pet, I'm a vampire. Sex and bitin' go hand in hand. They're two of the biggest highs a vampire can feel, and when you combine the two..." He trailed off, allowing her imagination to complete the sentence for him.
She surprised him, though. Instead of self-combusting as her flush deepened, she merely gazed at him, seemingly curious. "Did you bite Buffy?"
When his eyebrows raised at the question, she hurried to continue. "Well, I know you could hurt her, you know, after I brought her back. She told me. So, did you bite *her*?"
Spike's mouth opened and shut twice before he reluctantly admitted, "Actually, uh, no." He darted an uneasy glance at Angel, waiting for a superior smirk from the other vampire, but he only nodded knowingly.
"Why?" Willow questioned him further.
"Because she wouldn't let me," he mumbled.
"And I did?" She tilted her head, and Spike suddenly felt like he was a big research project for her. Sexual Preferences of the Modern Day Vampire, by Willow Rosenberg. Maybe she wanted would write a paper for the Watcher's Council based on her experience. Oh, that'll go over well with Rupes. If Buffy wasn't out to stake his arse, her bloody Watcher would be poundin' on his door with a battle ax
He decided to be honest with her, and hoped it wouldn't get him turned into a pile of dust by either the witch or Peaches. "Don't know, Red. Last night is a bit of a blur. Can't rightly remember that part."
She nodded her understanding, being in much the same boat as her morning bed partner. Both fell silent, straining to recall more memories from the lost night. Angel glanced between Spike and Willow, seeing them both lost in their own thoughts.
"Uh, Spike, why don't you grab some clothes and go change in my room? We'll give Willow a little privacy to get freshened up and dressed," he suggested.
The redhead glanced down, suddenly realizing she was still seated on the bed wrapped in nothing more than a sheet. "Uh, yeah. Dressed is good," she mumbled.
Spike stared at the flustered girl, and once again he had a flashback of gazing upward at all that smooth, creamy flesh topped by her flushed and aroused face. Maybe he did know why he marked her last night after all.
"You're a pretty little thing in the mornin', Red," he whispered, and leaned in to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Spike rubbed the silken strands between his fingers, savoring their texture. A vague memory of burying his face in a cloud of that red silk tugged at his mind.
Willow's eyes widened at the unexpected compliment, and then for the second time that morning Spike was being dragged away by Angel.
"Grab your clothes and get out, Spike," Angel towered menacingly over the blond.
The blond strode gracefully around the room and gathered up a pair of black jeans and a T-shirt. He glanced almost longingly over his shoulder at Willow, who was still seated on the bed, before heading out the door and down the hall to Angel's room. Angel frowned at the tender look on his grandchilde's face. That couldn't be a good sign. Not good at all.
Angel ran a hand through his mussed hair, trying unsuccessfully to tame the tufts sticking out at odd angles from his head. He gazed sorrowfully at the redhead on the bed. "I'm so sorry, Willow. You came here to help me, and I let this happen."
Willow gaped at him. He was trying to blame himself? The Brood Master struck again. "Angel, this wasn't your fault. Honest! I mean, how could you possibly be responsible for two grown adults having too much to drink, and then...you know." She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, not to mention the fact that the morning sunlight was making her head throb again.
He smiled sadly at the picture she made. At that moment so looked so young, so like the girl who told him she wasn't allowed to have boys in her room. That night felt like a lifetime ago. Angel suddenly felt an urge, and went with it. He leaned down and placed a soft, brotherly kiss on the crown of her bent head. It was then he caught the scent. Spike's claim. He stiffened, but didn't want to panic Willow, so instead he stood slowly, if not a bit stiffly. Angel gave her a forced smile and pointed toward a door on the other side of the room.
"The bathroom's through there. When you're ready the kitchen is out this door, to your right and down the hall. Do you like eggs? I could make you some eggs," he offered.
Willow's stomach roiled at the thought of food, and she quickly shook her head. "Thanks, but maybe just some water or coffee?"
Angel nodded understandingly as he watched her gently rub her pitching stomach. "Decaf only, right?"
Willow pouted. No one ever let her have real coffee. Stupid caffeine and it's effects on her. So what if she bounced around like a Mexican jumping bean on crack after a single cup? She'd had a rough night. She deserved caffeinated coffee, dammit!
"Can't I have regular? Please?" Willow batted her eyelashes and stuck out her lower lip. It always worked with Xander.
Angel looked uncertain, but nodded his agreement. "Come to the kitchen when you're ready. We'll talk some more."
Willow smiled sweetly and waited until Angel shut the door behind him with a quiet click before she pumped her fist in the air in victory. Caffeine will be mine!
She hopped up quickly. Too quickly. Willow swayed slightly as vertigo took hold with a vengeance. She sure as heck hoped this was an aftereffect of the alcohol, and not a result of blood loss. Oh, yeah. She was still ticked at Spike...and she was *really* embarrassed. To have Angel find them in bed together like that...to have him see her naked. Goddess, could her day get any worse?
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew instinctively that she'd just jinxed herself. If Xander was there, he would have smacked the back of her head for making a comment like that. Granted, she wasn't home, but she was close enough to the crater formerly known as Sunnydale to know better. If there were two things she learned living on the Hellmouth, she knew never to ask if things could get worse, and never, ever, ever, make a wish. Hmm, maybe she should have learned a third. Never sleep with your best friend's former vampire lover. Yeah, definitely adding that one to the list.
Once her balance returned, Willow searched the bedroom for her clothes. She found a trail of them leading to the bathroom, reminding her that she'd shared a shower with Spike the night before. Willow found her shirt by the door, her bra tossed over a chair in the far corner of the room, her shoes in the doorway of the bathroom, socks staggered closer to the tub, and dammit, he'd torn her favorite pair of undies. She held up the neon green cotton, staring at the ripped seams of the bikini panties. Willow sighed and tossed the useless piece of cloth into the trash can next to the sink.
Oh! She thought of one more thing to add to her list of things not to do. Never drink with a demon...friendly or not. It could lead to the destruction of a perfectly good pair of panties.
next | back