Turned Out Differently

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Willow/Spike (as it should be)

Spoilers: Through `Pangs'; AU thereafter.

Summary: Spike imagines that the night he tried to bite Willow turned out differently.  Spike's POV.

Notes: Fluff, the whole fluff, and nothing but the fluff. ** indicate emphasis.  Again, no plot, so don't look for one!

Feedback: It's ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)!  Don't make me beg, it's not pretty.

E-mail: spikedluv@midtel.net

Distribution: If anybody wants it, please take it.  Just tell me where it goes so I can keep track...OK, so I can pull it up and just stare at it for a while!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, just borrowing them for awhile.  Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr Argh, the WB, UPN and whoever else they really belong to, although I wouldn't mind having a Spike of my own.  Who would?  The story belongs to me.

Thanks: Amanda, beta, and grasshopper extraordinaire

****************

I lean my head back against the tub and close my eyes when I hear her voice.  She comes over to the Watcher's apartment almost every night for research.  And every night she does, I'm in hell.

The sound of her voice, her scent, a combination of vanilla and strawberry and spice, undo me.  I remember the smell of her neck last year, of the blood rushing through her veins; the soft, round curves she tries to hide under fuzzy sweaters and long skirts.

When I close my eyes, I imagine her in the outfit she wore that Halloween.  The short skirt that showed off her legs, the clingy top that molded her breasts and left her stomach bare.  I remember the night I tried to bite her, and imagine that it turned out differently.

***

When I entered her dorm room, she was wearing the short skirt and clingy top from Halloween, that show off her curves so well.  The blood pumped through her body and her breath quickened from desire, rather than fear.

I took my duster off and tossed it on the Slayer's bed before throwing her on her bed.  Instead of struggling against me, her body writhed beneath me.  Her moans and screams were those of pleasure.

I kissed her, running my hands over her hot, tight little body, gripping her hips, kneading her breasts.  I pulled her top down, baring her breasts, then lowered my head and suckled one as my fingers plucked at the nipple of the other.

My other hand slipped beneath her skirt and shoved it up.  I spread her thighs and pressed my hand against her through her knickers.

Her hands were in my hair, holding my head to her chest as she cried out my name, begged me to touch her.  I slipped my fingers beneath her knickers, brushed them through her damp curls, then slipped them between her swollen lips, wetting them in her juices.  I slid a finger inside her, then pulled it out and rubbed her clit.

She was moaning and panting, and I slipped my finger back inside her, pumping it in and out of her, bending it and rubbing it over the nerves bundled on her front wall as my thumb worried her clit.

Her breathing changed and her body tensed, alerting me to her impending orgasm.  I pulled on her nipple, then bit it as my thumb and finger curled into her body.  She screamed my name as her juices coated my hand.

Before she had recovered from her climax, I crawled down her body, shoved her skirt up further, and buried my face between her thighs.  I licked the juice off of her inner thighs, then spread her lips and lapped up her release.  My tongue dragged along her slit before slipping inside her, my nose pressed against her clit.

She grabbed my head and lifted her hips against my face.  I stroked her clit with my tongue, then sucked the swollen nub into my mouth, tonguing it as I sucked.

I felt her muscles stiffen, and bit down on her clit, my tongue pressing hard as I furiously stroked her.  She made a keening noise deep in her throat as she came. I drank her release until I felt her muscles start to relax.

I climbed back up her body, unfastened my jeans and pushed them down my hips until my cock was free.  I positioned my head at her entrance, rested my weight on my elbows, and gazed down into her green eyes until they cleared, and she was looking back at me.

She whimpered my name as I slid into her, then stilled to let her adjust.  She grabbed my shoulders and wrapped her legs around my waist as I pumped into her, slowly at first, then faster, until she was bucking beneath me.

I morphed, and she moaned.  She lifted one hand to my face and traced my ridged brow.  I growled, and felt her muscles clench around me.  I smirked around my fangs, and she shuddered.

Her hand slipped around to the back of my head and pulled me down to her breast.  I licked the fleshy mound, then sank my fangs into her.  She made a little noise in her throat, then her body began to spasm as I drew her blood out of her.

Her back arched beneath me as she threw her head back, her mouth open in a wordless scream as she came yet again.  I roared her name as her muscles milked my release.

***

My booted feet push against the end of the tub and I pull against the manacles around my wrists, my painfully hard erection straining against my jeans.  I stroke myself through my jeans as I think about burying myself in her tight, wet heat.

My nostrils flare as her scent becomes stronger.  She's coming toward the bathroom, probably to feed me.  I bend my knee a little, and cover myself with my hands.  Cor, this is going to be torture!  The door is pushed open slowly, and then she sticks her head around it.

"Hi, Spike," she says softly, as she pushes the door all the way open and steps into the room.  "I brought your blood," she holds the mug up a little higher.

She walks over to the tub and kneels on the floor by my head, then holds the mug out to me, the straw near my lips, as her arms rest on the side of the tub.  Her scent fills my nostrils and the sight of her, red hair against porcelain skin...my brain nearly closes down and I can barely think, much less speak, but I finally do.

"Evening, luv.  Draw the short end of the straw, did ya?" I tease, hoping she doesn't hear the hitch in my voice, as I close my lips over the straw and take a sip.  I'm so hungry, I want to drink it down fast, but then she'd be gone, so I take the one small sip and then let go of the straw.

"No!" she denies, but says nothing else.

"How were your classes?" I ask as I take another small sip, just enough to wet my tongue, as the scent and sight of her whets my appetite.  She raises an eyebrow and looks at me in disbelief.

"Why do you care?" she asks.  Is it because I'm an evil vampire, my chest puffs a little, or because she can't really believe that anyone would be interested?

"Just making conversation, pet," I reply.  "Got nothing better to do, locked up in here all bloody day."

"Classes were fine," she says, suspicion coloring her voice.  "Except for psych."

"What happened in psych?" I take another sip.

"Nothing, just...Oz used to be in that class with us," she says, trying to look like she doesn't miss him, like he hadn't broken her heart when he left.  Soddin' wolf.  If he was here now, I'd tear his arm off and beat him to death with it.  Being a werewolf, the chip probably wouldn't go off.  Probably.

"What, um, what did you do all day?" she tries to change the subject.  I look at her with both eyebrows cocked and she blushes as she remembers she's talking to a vamp who's chained in a tub all bloody day.

"Sorry," she says with a little twist of her lips and a shrug.  "So, what happened on `Passions'?" she recovers quickly.

"Do you really care?" I ask.

"Um, no, but you asked about my classes, and you probably didn't really care about that, either, so I figured I'd help you make conversation," she trails off.

"What are you researching out there?" I ask.

"This demon Buffy saw last night.  It ran away when it saw her, and so we need to find out if it's, you know, evil demon or just scaredy cat demon.  But I found this really great site when I did this search and...you don't really want to know about this either, do you?" she asks, her voice sounding kind of sad.

Silly chit!  I want to take the sadness away.  I want to hold her.  I want to shag her rotten.  Instead I just say, "Wrong.  Tell me about the site."

She just looks at me, one eyebrow raised a little.  Bleedin' hell, I press my hands against my cock, that *is* a turn on.  Who knew?

"Really?" she asks.  "`Cause, we could talk about something else, like, uh, football."

"I don't watch football, luv," I tell her stupidly.

"Me neither," she smiles shyly.

Bloody fucking hell!  As if the scent of her weren't enough, she has the bleedin' nerve to smile at me!  She has the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.  And up close, her green eyes shimmer like gems.

"Spike?" she asks, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Hmm?" I reply, as she draws me from my thoughts.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, sorry, just thinking."

"Oh.  About what?"

Your eyes, I want to tell her.  Your smile, the way you smell.

"Just wondering how anybody could stand to watch the American bastardization of real football," I say instead.  "Now, Jerry Springer, there's a great show."

"That stuff's all faked!" she scoffs.

"Doesn't make it any less fun," I insist.  "Sometimes they even bleed a little."

"Ew!" she giggles, and my chest puffs again.  For a moment, I took away the sadness.

We talk about inconsequential things as I finish the blood, which has gone cold.  When I'm done, Willow stands up to leave.

"I should probably get back to research," she says shyly.

  But I'm not ready for her to leave, yet, so just as she reaches the door, I speak.

"You really wanna know what I do in here all day, luv?" I ask.  She slowly turns around and looks at me, the mug held between both of her hands.

"What?" she asks.

"Remember," I close my eyes and take a deep, unnecessary, breath.  She's all around me.  Cor, did I just sound like Dru?  I shudder at the thought.

"The good old days of bloodshed and mayhem?" she asks a little nervously.

"The way you looked that Halloween, when everyone turned into their costumes," my eyes are still closed, but I can tell she's blushing, from the change in her breathing and her heart rate.  "The way you smelled the night I kidnapped you," I continue.  "The way you felt beneath me, the night I tried to bite you," I open my eyes and look into her wide, green ones.

"And I dream," my voice is soft, sensual.  "I imagine that that night turned out differently."

"Th-that you were able to bite me?" her voice squeaks.

"That I tasted you," my eyes travel from her mouth, to her breasts, to the juncture between her thighs.  "That I touched you," I stare at her, there, then roam up to her breasts.  "That I felt your heat surround me," I look back into her eyes.  "That you begged me to bite you, that you screamed my name when you came," I hold her eyes with mine.

Her breath is coming faster, her heart racing.  I can smell her arousal, brought on by my softly spoken words.

"You smell so bleedin' good," I groan.  Willow swallows hard.

"Let me touch you," I plead.  "Let me taste you.  Let me make you feel good.  I can make you feel so good."

And then the front door slams and the spell is broken. Willow turns around, pulls the door open, and races out of the bathroom as if all the demons of hell are chasing her.

Bloody hell, I swear.  Bloody fucking hell!  "Fuck!" I kick the end of the tub and drop my head back.  "Fuck."

***

Willow doesn't come back for research the next night, and I wonder if I've scared her off for good.  Was she disgusted that an evil, bloodsucking vampire wanted her?  If she didn't come back, I'd know.  I needed her to come back.

The following night I hear her voice again and my body relaxes, releasing tension I didn't even realize I was feeling.  This night, I don't dream while she's there, because I don't want to miss one second of it.  I close my eyes and listen to her, reveling in the fact that she's there.

As the evening progresses, I hear the Watcher and the Slayer leave for patrol, the moron and demon girl leave to go home, then I hear the microwave ding.  I listen to her footsteps in the otherwise silent apartment as they approach the bathroom, I breathe in her scent.

She slowly pushes the door open and I'm greeted with the mixed scent of pig's blood and, something I never thought I'd smell again, Willow's arousal.

She steps into the bathroom and closes the door, then leans back against it, holding the mug tightly in both hands.  I can smell her fear, tell from her posture that she's nervous.  When she doesn't speak, I break the silence.

"You gonna feed me?" I stare pointedly at the mug.  I'm being a prick, but the smell of her, the sight of her in that damned fuzzy sweater, has my insides quaking.  I'm a Master freaking Vampire, we don't quake.  Ever.  Except for now.  So, yeah, I'm being a prick.

"Did you mean what you said...the other night?" she asks.

"Mean what?" I reply, still being a prick.

"All of it...a-any of it," she stares at my chest, her scent telling me she's too afraid to look at my face, into my eyes.

"Every word," I tell her, caving, and her eyes finally dart up to mine, to see if I'm lying.  She stares at me for so long I begin to wonder if she's frozen in place.  "So, are you gonna feed me?" I ask again, not being quite the prick I was before.

"Wh-which do you want?" she asks nervously.

"Which what?" I ask, a little confused.

"The blood or...or me?" her voice squeaks.

"Can't have both?" I ask, swallowing, though I don't need to.  Now I'm nervous.  Bugger, Master Vampires don't get nervous, either!

"No.  I mean, yes, but, if you choose the blood first, I might...I might change my mind," her voice is so low I can barely hear her, even with my vampiric hearing.

"Sod the blood!" I tell her.  "Get over here," I jerk at the chains as my cock suddenly jumps to life.

Willow sets the blood on the sink with shaking hands, then walks toward the tub.

"Come on," I urged softly, when she stops walking.  I don't want to scare her, but I need her so badly.

"You really meant it?" she asks again.

"Bloody hell, yes, now get...over...here," I kick the end of the tub in frustration.  My cock is going to burst out of my jeans if I don't get to touch her.  "Come here...," I freeze as her hands go to the hem of the sweater she's wearing.  She lifts it slowly and I think I've died and gone to heaven, er, hell, again.

She pulls the sweater over her head to reveal the clingy top she wore beneath it.  My mouth drops open.  "Get over here," I motion frantically with manacled hands.

Willow ignores me.  Her hands drop to the waistband of her long skirt, unzips it and lets it fall to the floor, revealing the short skirt she wears beneath it.

"Bloody...fucking...hell," I groan, ever the eloquent romantic, as my eyes rove over her body.  All I can think is, she wore the Halloween outfit, she wore the Halloween outfit.  And she did that for me.

"Come here, Red," I say when I can finally move my eyes back up to hers.  "Come on, baby," I hold my hands out as far as I can and crook my fingers at her.

Willow takes a step closer to the tub and grabs my hand, her damp palm pressing against mine.  She lifts her leg to climb in the tub when I stop her.

"You got your knickers on?" I ask.  Willow blushes, then shakes her head `no'.  "Good girl," I smile at her and tug on her hand.  Willow steps into the tub and I shift over, directing her to kneel and straddle my leg.  Because my hands and feet are manacled, and then joined by a long chain, we have to strategize, though I can't believe I can still think.

I want to touch her, so she can't sit on the chain.  I have her straddle one leg, so that the chain is to the side of her.  As soon as she's settled on my leg I run my manacled hands over her as best I can, touching her hips, her arms, her face, before cupping her breasts.

"Kiss me," I whisper, dying for my first taste of her. Willow leans forward, her hands on my shoulders for support, and places her lips against mine.  Her lips are so soft and warm.  Then she's sliding her tongue along my lips, slipping it between them.  I part my lips and grant her access.  Her tongue enters my mouth, tentative, exploring.

I grab her shoulder, pull her closer as I take control of the kiss.  I shove my tongue in her mouth, tasting her, just the way I've dreamt, and it's bloody wonderful.  Her hands are in my hair, her warm body pressed up against me.

I pull back and look up into clouded green eyes.  Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed.  She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  I push her back far enough to be able to grab her shirt at the neckline.

"Spike," she moans as I pull down, dragging her shirt off of her shoulders and baring her breasts.  I lift my head and lean forward, taking one breast into my mouth, my hand closing around the other.

Her fingers tighten in my hair as she presses herself into my mouth, begins rubbing herself on my leg, her thigh rubbing against my already hard cock.  Her head falls forward and she kisses the top of my head as she rides my leg.  I breathe deeply as another wave of her arousal perfumes the air.  I pull back and check the chain.

"Lift your leg," I say, my voice husky with desire.  Willow does as I ask and I move the chain between her legs, then shift, so that she's straddling both of mine.

"Slide up," I direct and Willow moves forward until my hands are beneath her skirt, my fingers touching her.  I watch her face as I touch her everywhere, all at once.  Her thighs, her swollen lips, her wet center, her swollen nub, my fingers dance over, and in, her until she's panting.

Her eyes are closed, her mouth open, her head bowed just a little, her forehead furrowed in concentration.  I stroke the fingers of one hand over her clit and pump one finger, then two, of the other hand inside her.  I  feel her body respond, and just before she cums, pull my hands away from her.

"Spike!" her eyes shoot open in shock.  I'd laugh if I weren't so bleedin' horny myself.

"Lift your leg again," I said, pulling the chain out from between her legs when she does so.  I move my hands to my waistband and unbutton my jeans.  Willow pushes my hands out of the way and works the zipper, shoving my jeans to the side.  She gasps when my engorged cock juts up.

"What's wrong, luv?" I ask, barely able to form the words at this point.  Bugger, I want to be inside her, now!

"That's...that's *big*," her voice squeaks.  My eyebrows arch, my chest filling with pleasure at her assessment.  "D-don't laugh," she says.

I move my bound hands behind her head and lower them behind her back, so that my arms are wrapped around her, and pull her forward to lean, once again, on my chest.  I want her so badly, but know if I hurt her, or if she fights me, the soddin' chip'll go off.

"I'm not laughing.  And I won't hurt you," I whisper in her ear.  "It'll feel good, I promise.  You need it, don't you?" I ask as my hands grab her bum and press her against my stomach, grinding her clit against me.  I can smell her arousal, and feel her juices wetting me.

"Yes," she moans, and the sound of it makes me want her more.

"Let me give you what you need," my voice is soft, gentle as I lift her so that the head of my cock is pressing against her entrance.  "Relax, baby," I slowly slide my head inside her.

"Oh, goddess," Willow moans as she pushes back, taking me all the way inside her.  "Oh, Spike!" she cries as I fill her.

"Hold still," I tighten my wrists on her hips so that she doesn't move, "let yourself adjust."

"Spike," Willow moans, spreading her legs as far as the tub will allow, taking me deeper.

"Willow!" I cry in surprise and pleasure.  "Oh, soddin' hell, so hot, so hot and tight," I groan into her neck.  She lifts her hips, then lowers them again, almost experimentally and I growl.  I grab her bum and hold her as I thrust up into her.  She presses closer to my chest and I can feel her pebbled nipples through the cotton of my t-shirt.

"Willow, Willow," I moan her name, then lick and suck the skin of her neck into my mouth as I pump into her.

"Nnnggh," Willow begins a wordless keening deep in her throat as her body tenses.  "Spike," she manages to get out.  I tighten my grip on her bum, suck harder on her neck, pump faster, deeper inside her, until she cums, her muscles clamping around me and taking me with her.

"Willow!" I cry as I shoot my release inside her.  She slumps onto my chest, spent.  I raise my hands to her back and hold her tight, bury my face in her hair, breathe in her scent, trying to convince myself that this was real, and not another dream.

After several minutes, Willow climbs shakily out of the tub. She cleans us both up, then gets dressed as I fasten my jeans.  She reheats my blood and feeds it to me, looking at me as I drink. Setting the mug on the floor, she leans over the side of the tub, grabs my face and kisses me.

I lift my hands to her shoulder, leaning into the kiss.  She pulls back and gently brushes my hair off of my forehead.  She grabs the mug, stands, and then she's gone, and I wonder if she'll be back.  I wonder if she needs me as much as I need her?

***

The next night Willow brings me my blood when everyone else is still in the apartment.  She's wearing jeans and the same top she had on the night I tried to bite her.  I wonder if she did that on purpose?

She kneels on the floor by my head and holds the mug out to me.  I take a sip as I breathe in the scent of her.  I let go of the straw and look at her.

"Do you think about, you know, doing it again?" she asks as she stares at the white porcelain surrounding me.

"Doing what?" I ask, wanting to hear her say it.

"You know what I mean," she refuses to meet my eyes.  "What we did last night."

"The kissing, the touching, the shagging?" I ask.  Yeah, I'm being a prick again, teasing her, but I want her so bad, and I'm chained in this soddin' tub, and I can't even touch her.

"Yes," she says, and I watch the blush crawl up her neck and smell her arousal.

"Every minute," my voice is deep, husky with desire.  Willow chances a glance at my eyes, then presses the straw against my lips. I hear her breathing change as I stick out my tongue before closing my lips around the straw.

"So," she squeaks, "what's real football like?"  And I know that she wants me.  I don't know if she needs me, but she wants me, and that's a start.

For the next five nights Willow brings me my blood before the Slayer leaves for patrol.  We talk as she feeds me, sometimes for five minutes, sometimes for twenty-five.  She's killing me with the slow torture of smelling and seeing her without being able to touch her.  When I get out of here, I'm gonna shag her ta death.  That's right.  Shag...her...to...well, rotten, anyway.

On the seventh night, I hear everyone leave, then hear her working the microwave.  Tonight, I think, tonight, as I listen to her footsteps coming closer.  I'm staring hungrily at the doorway when Willow steps through.  She pushes the door shut behind her, then walks over to the tub.

She kneels beside me and offers me the mug.  I watch her chest rising and falling with each heaving breath she takes, hear her blood rushing through her body, smell her arousal.  Tonight, I think again.

"What, no straw?" I ask as Willow places the mug against my lips.  She doesn't answer, just shakes her head `no'.   "No talking tonight?" I tease after taking one long sip.  Her hands shake as, again, she silently shakes her head `no', then presses the mug back to my lips.  I drain the mug as Willow tilts it for me, and feel something hit my tongue.

When it's empty, she pulls the mug away from my mouth, looks into it, then stands and places it on the sink.  She moves back to stand beside the tub.  I suck the item in my mouth clean of blood, then stick it out.

"What's this?" I ask around it.

"I'm s-sure you'll figure it out," Willow says as her hands move to the hem of her sweater.  "You just better do it fast," she pulls the sweater over her head and I feel my cock respond.  Yep, tonight's the night.  I spit the item into my hands and look at it. A key.  The key, I realize.

I hastily shove the key into the lock of the manacles around my wrists, nimble fingers working it until I hear a click and the manacles fall away.  I lean forward and unlock the chains around my ankles.  By the time I remove the chains and climb out of the tub, Willow is nervously leaning against the wall in my now absolute favorite outfit in the world, her arms crossed over her chest.

I place my hands on either side of her face and lower my head to hers.  I kiss her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, before my lips touch hers.  I gently coax them apart, then slip my tongue into her mouth.  Her arms fall away from her chest.

I run my unfettered hands down her neck to her shoulders, down her arms.  I grasp her hips, then run them up her back, pressing her close.  Her hands grip my hips as she kisses me back.

I pull away so she can breathe, bury my face in her neck and move my hands to her breasts.  I hear her sudden intake of breath as I suck on her neck, knead her soft mounds, and feel her fingers tighten on my hips.

Then I lift her shirt and pull it over her head, baring her breasts, and lower my head to take one into my mouth.  I love this outfit, but I've never seen her naked.  Tonight, I want to see her naked.

She gasps as my cool tongue touches her warm skin, and her hands move to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, pressing me to her.  I lave one, and then the other as my hands knead the soft flesh of her bum.

"Spike," she moans and I smell a fresh wave of arousal.  I knead her bum more fiercely, spreading her cheeks and placing my fingers against her crack through the material of her skirt.  "Spike!" she cries out.  Her scent lays heavy in the air and I know that she's wet.

I unzip her skirt, letting it fall to the floor, and place my hands on her bare flesh, kneading and teasing her with my touch before sliding my fingers along her slit.  She moans my name as she spreads her thighs, granting me access.  I move my hands around to her front and slip a finger inside her.  Her head falls back against the wall.

I lift my head from her breasts and watch her face as I pump a finger into her, then insert a second.  I place the fingers of my other hand on her clit and her eyes shoot open.  With my eyes locked on hers, I stroke her swollen nub and drive my fingers inside her.

Her fingers wrap around my biceps as her body tenses and, with a strangled cry, she cums.  Before she recovers, I'm on my knees before her, licking her juices off of her thighs, spreading her swollen lips with my thumbs and lapping at her.

I lick and suck on her until she's mewling, her hands in my hair pressing me against her.  Her body tenses again and her juices coat my face as I drink her release.  I pull away from her and catch her, as her legs give out.

I gently lay her on the cold linoleum and just look at her. She's so much more beautiful than I had even dreamed.  I hastily crawl between her legs as I unfasten my jeans.  I shove them down, lift her hips, and place my head at her entrance.

"Look at me," I command, and Willow turns lust-glazed eyes toward me.  With eyes locked and fingers tight on her hips, I thrust into her.

"Oh, goddess, Spike!" she reaches for me.  I rip my t-shirt over my head before lowering myself over her.  She wraps her arms around my shoulders, her legs around my waist, and I feel her warm skin against my cool flesh.  I wonder if this is what heaven is like?

"Oh, yeah," I moan as she takes me deeper, then begin to pump into her.  She lifts my head to hers and I kiss her, thrusting my tongue into her warm, wet mouth as I thrust my cock into her warm, wet passage, until we cum, screaming each other's names.

We lay on the floor, tangled together, as we recover from our orgasms.  Willow wraps her arms around my back and head, holding me close, as I bury my face in her neck and lick her.

"You have a neck fettish?" she teases.

"What do you think, luv?" I let my breath tickle her neck and she giggles.

"So, do you still wish that night had turned out differently?" she asks shyly.

"No," I kiss her neck.  "I wouldn't change a thing," I place kisses along her jaw until I reach her lips.  "Still my number one fantasy, though," I smirk and waggle my eyebrows at her.

We talk quietly as we hold each other, then clean up and get dressed.  Tears fill Willow's eyes as she locks the manacles around my wrists.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her fingers tracing the healing marks where I've pulled against my binds.

"Not your fault, luv," I tell her, just before she launches herself at me and kisses me.  She jerks away from me and stands up, then backs away from the tub until she's near the door.  She turns around, grabs the mug off of the sink, and puts her hand on the knob.

"Do I have to wear this every time?" she asks, her cracking voice betraying her nervousness.

"No," I respond, my body responding to the thought of next time, and then she's gone.

~~~*~~~

The next night I hear Willow come in early.  She sits talking with Giles and, though I can't make out all of their words, it sounds like she's trying to convince the Watcher to unchain me.  I doubt the Watcher would be persuaded, but the thought that she would make the attempt makes me hard.  Bugger, I think, as I try to get comfortable.

About an hour later, after everyone has arrived and started researching, Willow appears in the doorway with a mug of blood in her hands.  She's wearing a pair of blue jeans and a midnight blue top that sets off her porcelain skin, red hair and green eyes.

She kneels beside me and holds the mug out so I can drink through the straw.  I finish the blood and she sets the mug on the floor.

"Heard you and the Watcher," I tell her and see her stiffen.

"Oh.  Sorry," she looks away, then back at me, "he didn't think it was a `good idea at this time'," she affects a British accent and gives me a weak smile.

"Tryin' ta get rid o' me?" I ask, my accent heavy.  She freezes again.  I didn't mean to say it.  I don't want her to know I'm vulnerable.  I'm the big bloody bad, right?  Right.

"You want to leave?" she asks, and I can smell her fear, see it in her eyes.

"What, this tub?  This apartment?  Sunnyhell?" I ask a little sarcastically, trying to hide my vulnerability behind it.

"Me," she replies and I slump back in the tub.  Love's freakin' bitch, that's me.  Big bad my bleedin' ass.

"No," I say and she looks at me with tear-filled eyes.

"Really?" she asks, hopefully.  Maybe she does need me.

"Willow, we need...," neither one of us heard the Slayer's approach and Willow automatically turns to look at her when she spoke.

"What's wrong?  What did you do to her?" the Slayer storms into the room when she sees Willow's tears.

"We're just talking," Willow tells her.

"About what?  You're crying."

"Ah, well, about, um...,"

"The wolf," I say the first thing that comes to mind.  I sense Willow's discomfort, but then she says, "Yeah, we were talking about Oz."

"Why would you talk to *Spike* about Oz?  You should talk to us, your friends."  I can tell that Willow is angry.  She places her hand on the tub and rises to her feet.

"Maybe I talk to Spike about Oz because you were always too busy to listen, and when you weren't, you didn't want to be bothered," Willow stands with her hands on her hips.  That's my girl, I think, as I get hard.

"Will...,"

"I need to rinse my face off.  I'll be out in a minute." When Buffy doesn't move, Willow takes her arm and turns her around, "I don't need your help for that."

After Buffy leaves, Willow closes the door and leans her forehead against it.

"Uh, Red, you alright?" I ask when she doesn't move for awhile.

"I'm not bitter and I don't hold any grudges," Willow's voice is muffled against the door.

"I can see that, luv," I agree and she gives a little laugh.

"Can I tell you something?" she asks as she walks over to the sink and turns the water on.

"Course," I say, wondering if I'm really gonna want to hear it.

"Promise not to laugh?" she bends at the waist and splashes water on her face, then reaches for a towel.

"Promise."

"I figure you'll end up leaving Sunnydale as soon as you can," she begins, "and I just wanted you to know that I, well, I appreciate what you did."

"What did I do?" she's got me all confused now.

"Made me feel...beautiful and...desirable, even if just for a little while."

"You are," I tell her, honestly.  "You're all that, and more."  I wonder why she can't see it for herself.

"Thank you," she whispers without looking at me, pulls the door open and rushes out, leaving the empty mug behind.  Willow left early that night with the excuse that she had a headache.

Soddin' chip, I rail, soddin' bleedin' chains!  She better bloody come back.  She better come back.

***

The next night she brings my blood while the others are researching.  My mind had tortured me all day with the thought that she might not be back.

"Sorry," she says as she kneels beside me and extends the mug.

"`Bout what?" I take a sip, pretending I wasn't worried in the least.

"Running off like that," she explains.

"Why did ya?" I ask, again not sure if I really wanted to know.

"Trying to get myself ready to, you know, accept it when you leave," she replies as she holds the straw back to my lips.

"Why do you keep saying that?" I ask, ignoring the straw. She frustrates the bleedin' hell out o' me!

"Because you hate it here!  Of course you're going to leave," she tries to make me take the straw.

I take a sip so she stops poking at me, then admit, "I have gotten my ass kicked here.  But I keep coming back."  I look at her meaningfully.

"Willow," the soddin' Slayer interrupts us again.

"Yes, Buffy," Willow tilts her head to look at the Slayer without moving the mug away from my mouth.

"Giles needs you to look something up for him."

"Alright," Willow says reasonably, "I'll be there as soon as Spike's done," she turns away from the ditsy blonde and holds the straw for me.

"You know what?  He's done now!" the Slayer storms over to the tub and grabs for the mug.  Willow struggles to keep hold of it and the Slayer wrenches it out of her hands, spilling pig's blood everywhere.

"Bloody hell!" I swear as I'm drenched in my dinner.

Willow looks down at the blood soaking my t-shirt, dripping off of her hands and spattered on her own top.

"Eww!  What is your problem?" she stands and turns on the other girl in irritation.

"*He* is my problem," she points the now empty mug in my direction.

"Well, get over it, geez!" Willow walks over to the sink and washes her hands, then storms out of the bathroom.  I have a moment of worry that she's going to leave me sitting in the tub all covered in blood, and the Slayer's just getting ready to follow her, when Willow returns with the key.

"What are you doing?" she cries as Willow kneels by the tub and begins to unshackle me.

"Unchaining him," Willow says, as if it's no big deal.

"What's going on?" Giles pokes his head fearfully into the bathroom.

"Giles," Willow speaks as she concentrates on the locks, "do you have a t-shirt Spike can borrow?  Someone spilled blood all over this one."

"What happened?" Giles looks at his charge, who holds the dripping mug in her hands.

"I just...,"

"T-shirt, please," Willow reminds him.

"Uh, yes, of course," he turns and walks away.  Willow drops the manacles into the tub and starts to lift my t-shirt.

"Uh, luv," I push her hands away, "better let me do that."

"Why?" she asks innocently.

"`Cause I'm hard as a rock," I whisper in explanation and her eyes automatically go to my jeans, making me even harder.

"Oh, crap!" she says and I look down, suddenly afraid of what I might see.  "There's blood on your jeans, too.  Tell Giles we need jeans, too," she tells the Slayer, who's still hovering in the doorway.  "Now!" Willow says, when she doesn't move.

"And a t-shirt for you," I remind her of the blood on her top.

"And a t-shirt for me!" Willow yells to the retreating Slayer.

"It gets me all horny when you take charge," I tease her.

"I can see that," she tells me, with another glance at my jeans.  "Here," she tosses the key at me, "unlock your ankles."  I grab the key out of the air and unlocked the manacles around my ankles, dropping them into the tub with a loud clink.

While I was doing that, Willow found a spray cleanser beneath the sink.  As soon as I climb out of the tub, she cleans the spilled blood off of the tub and floor.  Giles appears in the doorway as Willow replaces the cleanser.  She takes the clothes out of his hands.

"Thanks, Giles."

"You're not staying in there while he changes!" the annoying Slayer appears behind Giles, who takes his glasses off and squeezes the bridge of his nose before walking back down the hallway.

"Jealous, Slayer?" I smirk at her.

"Spike's getting naked?" I hear the demon girl ask from the other room.

"In your...,"

"Here," Willow starts to hand the clean clothes to me, then obviously thinks better of it as she looks at my bloody shirt.  "On second thought, I'll just leave these here," she sets them on the closed toilet, then steps out of the bathroom and pulls the door shut to give me privacy.

"Willow...,"

"Make sure nobody's coming, alright?" I hear Willow say from the hallway right outside the door, then a sarcastic, "You standing there staring at *me* is gonna be a big help, thanks."  I smirk to myself as I strip, wash the blood that had soaked through the t-shirt off of my chest, then pull on the clean blue jeans and white t-shirt.

"Done?" Willow taps softly on the door.

"Yep," I call back.  Willow pushes the door open and steps into the bathroom, takes the bloody clothes and wash cloth out of the sink, and hands the pile in her hands to Buffy.

  "Here, go throw these in the washer," she says before swinging the door shut and locking it.  Without any warning, she jumps into my arms, which automatically go around her, wraps her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist, and kisses me, rubbing herself against me.  She pulls back, breathless, "I think I must get all horny when I take charge, too," she says, just before she kisses me again, ignoring the angry Slayer on the other side of the door.

"Okay," Willow shoves herself out of my arms.  "I've got to go now," she looks at her flushed face and swollen lips in the mirror.  "I don't look like I was just kissing you, do I?" she asks as she finger combs her hair.

"Uh, no," I lie, still a little bit stunned from the kisses.

"Liar," she says as she reaches for the door.

"Uh, luv," I call her back.  Willow turns her head and I watch her face fall when she sees the key I hold in my hands.  "Don't," I place my knuckles under her chin and lift her face.  "It won't be forever, I bloody well hope."  I climb into the tub and shackle my ankles, then put the manacles around my wrists and hold the key out to her.  "I can't do this part, luv," I tell her.

Willow kneels down beside me and takes the key from my fingers just as the Slayer pushes the door open and stands triumphantly in the doorway with a key in her hand.  The look on her face dissolves when we both ignore her.  Willow stands and walks past her without speaking, then I hear her voice from the living room.

"What was that you wanted me to look up, Giles?"

***

After a long and loud argument, Buffy and Giles go on patrol, leaving Willow alone in the apartment with the big bad.  I hear her lock the front door behind them and watch as she appears in the doorway just moments later.  She whips the borrowed t-shirt over her head, baring her unfettered breasts, and tosses it at me, then tosses the key to the manacles at me before disappearing from the doorway.

"Red!" I yell to her as I grab for the key and unlock my chains, nimble fingers turned clumsy with desire.  "Red?"  She doesn't answer, but I can hear her heart beating, faster and faster. I climb out of the tub and stalk into the living room, searching for her, until I see her standing in front of the fireplace.

"Red," I turn toward her.

"Spike," she moans, taking a step toward me.  I swing her up into my arms and kiss her.  Over the next three nights, we christen a different room in the tiny apartment.  The living room, the kitchen, and even Giles' bedroom.

On the fourth night, Giles doesn't accompany the Slayer on patrol.  Willow brings my mug of blood in after the Slayer has left, and quietly shuts the door.

"Giles is here," she whispers.

"I heard," I raise an eyebrow, watching her as she kneels beside the tub and sets the mug on the floor.  She reaches over the side of the tub and unbuttons my jeans.  "Hey!" I whisper loudly.  "What are you doing?"

"Shh," she bats my hands away.

"Luv, you can't seriously be thinking we're gonna shag with the Watcher right out there," I try to still her hands, but she's a woman with a purpose.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she scoffs.  "That would take too long, and besides, you make too much noise."

"Me?!"  By the time I've recovered from her verbal salvo my jeans are unzipped and she has her fingers wrapped around my flaccid member.  "What do you think you're gonna do with that?" I ask, one eyebrow cocked.

In answer, she leans over the tub and licks the tip, causing it to jump in her hand, and me to jump in the tub.  "Mmm,  I bet I can think of something," she teases as she crawls into the tub and straddles my knees.  Lowering her lips to me she sucks the head into her mouth as her hand pumps my rapidly stiffening shaft.

"Red," I moan in half-hearted protest.  "You're gonna get me staked!"

"We're supposed to be talking," she lifts her mouth off of me so she can speak, then licks the tip, "so get talking," she covers me with her mouth.

"Bloody hell, that feels so good," I moan.  Her mouth is so warm and wet and, "aahh!" I groan as her teeth graze me.  I put my hands in her hair and press her head down.  "More, more," I plead, "don't stop!"

Willow stops and looks up at me with laughter in her eyes.  "You're supposed to be saying things that Giles can safely overhear," she says.

"I can't *think* of anything Giles can safely overhear!" With a big smile on her face, Willow turns her attention back to my hard cock.  She sucks on the head, laving the tip with her tongue. She relaxes her throat and takes me in as far as she can, her tongue stroking the underside as she sucks, her hand pumping the length of me not in her mouth.

"Willow, Willow!" I cry out softly, as I feel the familiar tingling and spurt my release into her mouth.  Willow swallows, still sucking, milking me dry.  When I'm spent, I relax against the tub and watch her clean me off, then lick her own lips.  I pull her forward and lick the corner of her lips where she's missed some, then kiss her.

With a wicked smile, Willow tucks me back in and fastens my jeans, then climbs out of the tub, kneels in her usual position and holds the mug of blood for me to drink.

That night, after Willow and the Slayer have left to return to their dorm room, Giles appears in the bathroom doorway.  He stands there for a few minutes, staring at me.  My life, er, unlife, flashes before my eyes as I wonder if he heard us earlier.

"You can sleep on the couch.  I expect you to help with research.  You can come and go as you please, within reason.  If you run, don't bother coming back," Giles tosses the key to the chains at me and I grab it before it hits the tub.  I look back at the doorway and Giles is gone.

I unlock the chains from my wrists and ankles, then slowly climb out of the tub.  I walk into the living room and look around. There's no sign of the Watcher.  Then I hear a scuff from above my head and realize that he has gone to bed.  I look at the couch and see a pillow lying atop a folded blanket.

I smile to myself.  No more tubs, no more soddin' chains. And then I think about what I can do to Willow, now that I'm not chained in the tub.  I flex my fingers as I imagine her beneath me, on top of me.  Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

***

The next night I sense Willow coming before she even opens the door.  I wait until she has entered the apartment, tossed her bag and coat on the table, and started walking toward the living room, before stepping out of the kitchen.

"Giles...aahh!" she screams as she catches sight of me.  "Don't *do* that!" she slaps me.  "You scared me and...and...you...you're...," she grabs my wrist and shakes it.

"Unchained?" I supply with a raised eyebrow.

"Exactly!" she points at me.  "H-how...why?"

"Hello, Willow," Giles greets her as he comes down the stairs.

"Aahh!" Willow jumps and screams again.  "Giles, hi.  Um, Spike," she lifts the wrist she still holds and points at me.

"Ah, yes.  I gave your idea some further thought.  We'll see how it goes," he walks past us and into the kitchen to make his tea.

"You alright?" I ask the redhead who's still staring at the wall.  She turns and looks at me, her mouth opening and closing like the goldfish Angelus killed.  I lift the hand she still holds and close her mouth.

"Yeah, fine," she nods as she drops my hand.  "So, no more tub, no more chains, no more...uh, talking," she wraps her arms around her stomach.

"Wrong," I plant a quick kiss on her lips.  "Lots of talking...and shagging," I smirk as she blushes.

"Oh!  Good.  I mean, good for you, you're not chained anymore," she says.  "I think I'll go start researching...now," she turns and walks away, sitting heavily at the table, not moving to pull out her laptop.

I walk into the kitchen, a cocky grin on my face, and rinse the mug, then grab a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.  I walk to the table and sit down next to Willow.  She looks over at me and watches as I twist the cap off and hand her the bottle.

"Think you could use this," I say.

"Oh, thanks," she takes the bottle and drains about half of it before she stops drinking.  "Um, how'd you know I like to drink water?" she asks as she sets the bottle on the table.

"Heard you ask the Slayer to get you a bottle once," I tell her.

"Oh.  Spike...," Just then the door opens and the Slayer, the moron and demon girl walk in.

"What's he doing loose?" the Slayer yells as she draws a stake.

"Buffy!" Willow protests.  "Why do you always act first and think later?"

"Will?!  What...?"  I cross my arms over my chest and lean back to watch Red in action.

"Do you really think Spike would just be sitting here if he had broken loose and was on a murdering rampage?"

"Well...where's Giles?"

"Right here," the Watcher says as he comes out of the kitchen sipping a cup of tea.  "What's wrong?"

"Spike's loose!" the Slayer points at me.

"Yes, I see that."

"Giles!  Why?"

"Because I got tired of moving him so I could take a shower," he sits down and pulls a book over, "and every other time I needed to use the bathroom."

"Giles!"

"Buffy, please.  He's chipped, he can't hurt anyone, he needs our help, we could use his help, and I'm sick of turning my home into a prison. It's done.  He's not getting chained up...unless he really pisses me off," Giles turns his attention back to the vampire in question, namely, my big, bad self, and I quickly wipe the grin off of my face.

I lean over to Willow and whisper, "Remember what I said about you taking charge?"  Willow blushes and pinches me under the table, which only turns me on even more.

After a tense hour of research and another long argument, the Slayer and Giles leave for patrol, and the moron and demon girl leave to go home, leaving me and the witch alone.

"So, show me that site you found that excited you so much," I pull my chair closer to hers and lean toward her so I can read the screen.  Willow freezes.

"You remember that?" she asks in surprise.

"Course I remember," I assure her.

"You really want to see it?" she asks.

"Course I do.  Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Willow doesn't say anything, just sits there as her breaths come faster.  Finally she shuts the laptop and slides it down the table.

"What...?" I start to say, but Willow climbs up on the table, then slides down so she's sitting with her legs on either side of me.  She grabs my t-shirt and pulls me forward.

"Do you have any idea," she whispers, "how much it turns me on that you remembered that?"

"I'm beginning to get an idea," I manage to say before she cuts me off with a kiss.  And then I'm standing, pulling her against me, kissing her back.  She pulls away and slides back on the table, pulling at my t-shirt.  I climb up and join her.  She lies back and I cover her body with mine.  Tonight, it's the dining room.

***

I close my eyes and think about the night I tried to bite her, and my fantasy, that that night had turned out differently.

I open my eyes and I'm standing in front of her dorm room.  I lift my hand to knock, two sharp raps.

"Come in," she calls, naively, and I push the door open and enter.

She looks up in surprise, and not a little fear.  And something else.  Desire.  She's wearing the outfit from Halloween, `cause it's my fantasy, after all.  She jumps off of the bed and stands nervously in front of the nightstand.

"Spike!  Wh-what do you want?"

I take my duster off and toss it on the Slayer's bed, then stalk toward Willow.  She's breathing fast now and her blood, her sweet, sweet blood, is pumping through her body.  I grab her arms and kiss her, hard and fast, then pick her up and throw her on the bed.

She giggles when she lands.  I stand with my hands on my hips, looking down at her with a frown.

"That's not part of the fantasy, luv," I remind her.

"I can't help it, you gave me butterflies," she tries to stop laughing as she smiles up at me.  Have I mentioned that I'm a sucker for Red's smile?

"Well, maybe we can make it part of the fantasy," I tell her, as I join her on the bed and she reaches for me.

The End  

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