Didn’t We Meet During the Revolution?

Series: Past Lives and Present Paybacks 1

Author: Sylver

E-mail: vedmababayaga@yahoo.com

Pairing: W/S

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Willow finds out that she and Spike have met before and she wants a little payback.

Spoilers: Starts season two.

Disclaimer: I did not build the Buffyverse that would be Joss; it is merely my playground.

Distribution: If you want it, fine by me, just drop me a line first.

Feedback: Pretty please with sugar on top!

Special Thanks: Kat for checking over my ramblings and Aden for always being happy to see me.

A/N: This is an answer to Rose’s personal challenge for me. Sorry it took so long, sweetie! Okay, so here’s the challenge: BDSM, W/S with Spike as sub, Spike cannot have a soul, Willow is angry at him for something and must punish him.

Must Haves: Torture that Spike does not enjoy, the word Mistress, some sort of past life involvement between them, roses in a vase, cock-ring, tattooing, talisman to ward off evil, Spike’s lighter.

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          Spike paced the factory impatiently, waiting for the sun to go down. It had been one week since he had faced the slayer on Halloween, and he was still pissed. He should have known better than to go out that night, it just wasn’t done in proper demon circles. Then again, when had he ever been proper? There was something else bothering him though, some sort of nagging in his brain. The redhead he kept seeing hanging around the slayer…
 
 

She was just an inconsequential piece of fluff to be sure. Yet, there was something so familiar about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but every time he looked at her he thought of snow. No matter, soon she would be dead, and her annoying presence would be gone from his mind forever.
 
 

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          Willow felt exhausted. She was just starting to get over the nightmares spawned by her Halloween experience of being dead, when an old friend of Buffy’s moved to town, who then turned out to be some sort of vamp groupie bent on delivering the slayer to the big bad so he could have eternal puberty. Poor Buffy had needed some major consoling after staking him; it’s hard losing friends. But now that the redhead was home where she could be alone with her thoughts, she was ready to curl up with a nice book and a bubble bath. She might have to admit to herself that she was a sidekick, but even the plucky comic relief needs some pampering now and then.
 
 

          However, as she slipped into the hot, soapy water, her thoughts once again drifted back to the blonde vampire that had been haunting her mind so much lately. He terrified her, yet there was something about him, something familiar. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but whenever she looked at him she felt cold. No matter, it was probably just some hellmouth thing. Soon Buffy would kill him and he would be out of her life, and more importantly her mind, forever.
 
 

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          Weeks passed, and as always Willow was too busy being best friend and research gal to give much thought to her own problems or the disturbing images that were now frequenting her mind. Sometimes when she looked at Buffy or Giles, all she would see was snow, hearing an absent wind howling in her ears. The watcher had begun to grow concerned with her recent spacey demeanor, but assumed that it was simply stress and did his best to send the girl home early whenever possible.
 
 

          However, it wasn’t stress, and a few nights off wasn’t going to help matters any. Willow knew there was some sort of connection between her and that monster, Spike. She couldn’t explain it, but still it was the truth. Determined to get to the bottom of the matter, she would pour over the books, looking for any information she could find about the demon, but despite the fact that in his time he had killed two slayers, the chronicles about him were woefully incomplete.
 
 

          The redhead had just wasted another evening going through the books finding nothing about Spike. She did, however, find several interesting magic books hidden in Giles’ office that she determined to look at later. She needed some fresh air to clear her head she decided, and made her way past the poor watcher, who was having his butt kicked as he tried to train his slayer. Once she was outside in the night, with the gentle breeze blowing in her face, she felt better.
 
 

          Closing her eyes, she turned her face up toward the nearly full moon, a smile playing across her lips, as if the ethereal light was somehow able to wash all her troubles away. She didn’t feel a pair of blue eyes watching her, studying her with curiosity.
 
 

          Spike had heard that this was where the slayer and her little mates liked to make camp. He hadn’t intended to come there, not then anyway, but he was out for a bite in the area, and noticed the little redhead standing out in the moonlight, oblivious and defenseless, as he strolled by. Seeing her there, bathed in a misty glow, he was struck by how beautiful she was; the sense of familiarity he got from her was almost overwhelming. Then it hit him, he had met her before…but that was impossible, she couldn’t be, could she? He made his way silently toward her.
 
 

          “Lovely evening isn’t it, pet?” he whispered softly in her ear, making the poor girl squeal with a combination of surprise and fear.
 
 

          “Oh my god, Spike!” she squeaked, spinning around, “What do you want?!”
 
 

          “To kill you of course, but not just yet. My mother always used to scold me for playing with my food, but it’s a habit I’ve never outgrown.”
 
 

          “I’ll scream. Buffy’s just inside…”
 
 

          “I can snap your neck before you ever get the chance.”
 
 

          Willow stood, frozen for a minute. Her head was spinning with fear and yet all the while the feeling of deja vu was so strong that she had completely forgotten about running. She looked at his face, glowing in the pale light, and was struck by an image of him standing in the moonlight, heavy snowflakes falling all around as he killed her.
 
 

          “You’re going to kill me again…” she muttered absently.
 
 

          “I knew it! I knew I knew you! We met before, right? I killed you during the Bolshevik Revolution!”

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