Pairing: W/O (this part) turn into a W/S friendship or more- not sure where I'm going yet.
Rating: This parts a PG
Feedback: Please?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Dedication: To Dare who gives GREAT feedback and is an excellent springboard for ideas. She knows how to make a girl feel good. :) Hope you like it so far, sweets. also Does anyone have the lyrics to Garth Brooks "the Thunder Rolls" that they could send me? I'd be much obliged.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 1~
Spike took a final drag off of his marb before stomping it out. Striding into Club Eighty-Eight without even looking at the bouncer, he took a seat on the first quickly-available barstool. There was a live band tonight, and he had nothing better to do.
Ignoring the blonde ditz trying desperately to gain his attention with her over-flashy cleavage, Spike ordered a beer. Taking a healthy swig the vampire looked up towards the stage. Sputtering, he blinked rapidly. It couldn’t be...
On stage was the wolf-boy, the redhead’s high school love. His hair was different-- just a natural looking chestnut brown-- but it was definitely him. He could smell the werewolf-human blood from the back of the club.
It had been six years since he’d seen any of them, or even thought of them. In that time he’d lost Drusilla, this time to a priest. She’d wandered into a church in one of her episodes and gotten herself staked by a priest who wasn’t blind to the darkness in the world. He’d wallowed in his own misery for a while, but he eventually moved on. Hell, he was still lonely, but he was a demon. He had eternity to find another mate, worthy of his time and... affections.
William the Bloody watched the band with one eye until they finished their last set. Heading out back, Spike decided to wait for the wolf. Follow him, maybe eat him... just for old times sake.
Two hours later Oz made his exit from the club, freshly showered but still smelling slightly of an exotic women’s perfume. Well, looked like wolf-boy had some groupies.
~*~
Oz entered the back door of his house silently, hoping that Willow would be asleep. She wasn’t. Sighing, he headed over to his wife and gave her a kiss. She didn’t look too happy.
“Oz, you said you’d be home by three. It’s nearly six.” Willow said into hands, playing with the silver wedding band on her left hand.
“Why do you have to say it like that! I’m just a little late is all. Every time I walk in the door even a few minutes late you’re in my face, whining and bitching! My band is doing well, Willow. Do you not realize that I have to put time into it to make the money? Or would you rather that I just... sell our nice house? And all of our things?” Oz’ voice rose, and he grabbed his wife by the shoulders. “I could get a job at Taco Bell. Is that the kind of husband you want me to be, Willow? Is it? Answer me damnit!”
With a sob Willow wrenched herself from Oz’s arms, shuddering.
“I was just worried is all.”
The sound of her quiet voice brought Oz back to reality. Reaching for his wife, he took on a more gentle voice.
“I’m sorry, baby. You know I love you... I just-- you know what happens when I get mad. Let’s just... go to bed.”
Allowing her high school love to pull her into his arms, Willow blinked away the tears. He loved her. He really did. He had to. The faint scent of perfume she noticed on the collar of his shirt was just her imagination. It had to be. After all, they were married.
Spike turned away from the window in shock and disgust as he watched the tiny redhead allow herself to be led up the stairs.
~Part: 2~
Spike sat on the balcony of his motel room, smoking quietly. He’d fed before returning home, his mind playing and replaying the scene between the wolf and the witch.
How to process what he‘d observed? It would appear that the little witch had married her dog-boy, and was still as meek as a doormat. The way he’d treated her was horribe. That all-too-familiar haunted look in her eyes was tearing into him. It was the look Drusilla had sometimes gotten. The completely empty look that signified nobody was home.
What a waste. She’d had so much fire, exuberance, spirit. To have it all taken away, and for *that*, was almost inconceivable to him. Her spark was dying slowly, like a matchstick in the wind. The woman who he’d watched through the glass panes was nothing more than a husk, an automaton.
Shaking his head, Spike headed back into the room. He had no reason to spend so much energy and time on this. After all, what did she ever do for him? Nonetheless, he decided to make a sweep by next night and see how she was doing.
~*~
Willow sat on the leather couch in their posh living room. It was nice, and it was comfortable, but it wasn’t her. Nothing in this house was. She’d allowed herself to become swept up in high school love, and this is where it had landed her. Living in a house with a man she barely knew. Every night he was gone, sometimes for days at a time. Always away from her, leaving her in the big empty house.
Honestly, she couldn’t care less if he worked at Taco Bell. She had the skills to make as much as, or more, than Oz. He, however, had wanted her to be a traditional housewife. And she’d complied. She was there every night with a smile and a kiss for him when he walked in the door. Except for on nights like last night. Those nights were becoming more and more frequent.
With a start, Willow shook away her thoughts. She loved Oz, she truly did. It was just that sometimes... sometimes things weren’t so nice. Sometimes she felt like she was in way over her head, sometimes she felt like marrying Oz was a mistake.
Sometimes... when he came home late with whiskey on his breath, he’d take without asking. She’d wake up with him buried in her dry channel, pumping away. Lips fastened brutally over her jugular, always leaving marks. Since high school he’d learned to control the wolf. Not without a price though. He wasn’t the same sweet boy she’d fallen for. The price of controlling the wolf was that he became the wolf, at least partly. Physically he was just another mortal, but his blood and his soul were tainted. Tainted with destruction, violence, bloodlust. Sometimes... when he would wake her this way, she’d cry. She’d beg him to stop and he’d look at her. And sometimes, she could see that he didn’t really care that he was hurting her. That he liked it.
Sometimes she liked it. And that was the part that scared her.
~*~
Spike lay his hand on the glass of the living room window. She looked so alone. Even though he didn’t really know the girl, she couldn’t deserve that life. That much he knew.
~*~
Three nights later Spike decided that he should do something for the girl. Every night, against his better judgement, he would go to the big white house and sit. Even though Willow was unaware, he was with her. He saw the tears she cried as she sat on that big black ugly couch, and felt the pain of the bruises on her body as if they were inflicted on his.
Walking past a flower stand on the crowded streets of NYC, Spike took out his wallet. Anything to make her smile would be worth the damage to his reputation.
~Part: 3~
Spike sat down on the front porch of Willow's big, lonely house. That was how he thought of it. She was the one who spent all of her time there. She was the one who lived there, who loved there. She cried, she read, she cooked, she cleaned, she slept. The wolf? He invaded the house, made it reek. He dirtied the dishes, and the sheets. He didn't belong there. Though really... neither did she.
Looking down at the boquet of daisies in his arms, he sighed. Ever since he'd started watching her he'd started remembering. Chubs, Anya, Slutty, Rupert, and Red.
Much as it shamed him to admit it, the gang hadn't been so bad. The Slayer and Chubs were a lot to handle, but he had gotten accustomed to their presense, their mannerisms, their oddities. And Anya? There was a right interesting character. She was blunt as hell, but she wasn't cold. It was true that she hadn't understood a lot of things, but her love for Chubs had been real. Rupert had been a strange house-mate, usually ending up with his head on a stack of books rather than a pillow. He lived off of tea, and rarely slept more than 4 hours a night. That and his strange habit of singing Tom Petty's "Breakdown" while he was in the shower.
Willow had been real... Down-to-earth, fiesty, and so very alive.
He could remember with a startling clarity the way her eyes glittered when she was angry, or the shade of her cheeks when she blushed. He remembered the soft scent of apples that had always accompanied her when she walked into the room. It was sweet, innocent... and all too alluring.
Spike stood, feeling his pants tighten noticeably. *Bloody swell, mate. Ring her doorbell with a raging hard-on. I'm sure that will go over real well.* Lighting a cigarette he began to pace, unaware that his footsteps were leading him closer and closer to the large picture window in which the object of his contemplation sat. *What am I doing here? A third the scourge of Europe-- bringing a heartbroken woman flowers? And not in hopes of a quick meal, or a nice shag? I've lost my bloody marbles, that's it...*
Spike's eyes were doe-wide as the front door swung open.
"Hello?" Willow called.
*Stand still and she won't be able to see you....* Spike thought.
"Whoever you are, I can see the cherry of your cigarrette. Might as well come say hello, I've got no one else to talk to."
Clearing his throat, Spike stepped into the light that spilled forth from the open doorway. "Er... Hello, pet. I brought you these."
~Part: 4~
Willow stood, slack-jawed, on her front porch. It was 2 o'clock in the morning-- why would she have company? And why on earth would it be Spike? As she slowly began to come out of shock her first thought was about her husband. What would he say? What would he do?
Shuddering slightly at the thought of what Oz would do, Willow began to babble, "Spike what are you doing here? You really shouldn't be here. Because it's a bad time... a really bad time. For me to have company, seeing as how it's very late. So maybe you should go. Nice seeing you again. Bye." Willow shut the door on Spike.
~~~*~~~
"What the bloody hell was that, witch?" Spike rapped on the front door. "I bring you flowers and you shut the door on me? I know your wolf isn't home, and he probably won't be for a few hours. So why don't you talk to me? I can tell you're lonely, luv."
"Spike, it's been years. You don't understand, if Oz came home and saw you, and me, and we were anywhere near eachother-- he'd be very, very upset. And it's no fun when he gets upset." Willow's voice cracked.
"Come on, pet, open up," Spike muttered, his forehead pressed against the door panel.
"No, you just don't understand. He would be very unhappy with me, 'cos were married, and he loves me. And I love him. People who love eachother don't have conversations on their porches with bleached-blonde, blue-eyed vampires at two o'clock in the morning. If you want to talk, I can meet you somewhere, but not tonight."
Spike sighed. She was so lost. With a sigh he spoke, "When and where?"
"Caffe Vita, on the corner of Bush and Nolen. 10:45. If you're not there on time, I won't wait for you."
"Goodnight, pet. I'll just leave these outside for you."
"Goodnight, Spike," Willow sighed, opening the door once more as she watched his leather clad form stalk off into the night. Picking up the daisies, she smiled softly to herself. Oz used to do things like that, she thought, and a lone tear trickled down her cheek before sliding off into the white petals.
~Part: 5~
Willow stood nervously in front of her full length mirror. She hadn't been out alone in so long, it was strange to pick what she wore herself. Oz had left not 10 minutes before and she was trying to pick an outfit. Something that Oz wouldn't disapprove of. He didn't like many of her clothes, said that they showed too much of her curves, and they were only for *his* eyes.
~~~*~~~
10:40 PM, Caffe Vita:
Spike paced anxiously in the alley to the side of the small coffee shop. Why had he agreed to meet her? Why did he really care? What was the point? Questions rickocheted lightning-fast through his head. He couldn't shake the feelings of concern for the petite redhead, they wouldn't go away. He couldn't even picture ending her miserable life. It just didn't seem right.
Suddenly he saw her, wearing a large T-shirt and baggy jeans. She left her hair down, doe-like eyes peering nervously at all the people. She was apparently uncomfortable with the number of people around her even on the sidewalk. Looking around to make sure no one was watching her she slipped into the shop. Spike followed.
"Hello, pet," Spike spoke softly, trying his best not to spook her.
"Um.. hello, Spike. I'm not entirely sure why I came here tonight, because I could've very well just not come. Do you need something? A spell maybe? Because I quit magic. Oz didn't like it. I do have some friends who might be able to assist you though, they charge. And I don't know how willing they would be to try and get your insane vampire lover back for you, since there's always a risk with lov--"
"Pet. Calm down, I don't want a spell. I wanted to talk to you. Is that alright?"
Willow looked up into his face from her seat on a stool, searching for some sign of deception, some sign that he was like everyone else--that he wanted to hurt her. When she found none, all she could do was stare up at him in awe, amazed by the look of concern and emotion she found on his normally stoic face.
And then... she smiled. Just a tiny little smile, but it didn't just stop at her mouth- it reached up to her eyes. Spike grinned in return, enamored with the sparkle of her cypress orbs, the softness in her face. It was like she came alive with that smile.
"Sure."
~~~*~~~
Willow and Spike sat together in the cafe for nearly 3 hours, growing more and more comfortable with each word. Spike was careful not to bring up Oz, and Willow was careful not to mention him, either. Every quiet moment though, was filled with his presense. So thick it was almost tangible.
It was nearing 2:00 AM when Willow decided she needed to get home, lest Oz come home to find her away and be very upset. That would be bad.
With a smile reminiscent of the beautiful, fiery girl she'd been in high school, Willow left Spike sitting on the stool with his lukewarm mocha.
~Part: 6~
Willow looked thoughtfully out the dark window, her pen in hand. Oz had left for a tour that would keep him gone for a few weeks, maybe a month. She was alone... sort of. Spike had been hanging around lately. It was strange-- the thought of how empty her life had been before Spike had showed up.
She hadn't talked to anyone except for Oz, and that wasn't even very often. Every day, and every night she would sit and stare out the window, lost.
Putting her pen to paper she began to write:
Dear Journal,
Oz is on tour again, and I am alone in this house. It's not a home, not really. I didn't pick out anything in it except for the laundry detergent. Oh, don't forget the dish soap. Lately things have gone from bad to worse with me and Oz. I wish I didn't believe it, I wish I couldn't see it-- but I know he's cheating on me (again). We've been fighting a lot more, too.
It's hard, being so empty inside, and so alone outside. I'm really scared, as well, for reasons I dare not put on paper. Something that Oz would surely kill me for. Just in case he finds this, I'll let it hang unsaid between you and me, Journal. It's hard though, not having anyone know.... not having anyone to talk to about things. About it.
Except for him. He just ... showed up one night, and he won't leave me alone since. It's almost like a stray cat that followed me home in 6th grade every day from school. Except he didn't follow me home-- he came to me. He's nice. He doesn't bring up Oz, and he doesn't bring up me and Oz. Plus, he's great conversations. It's nice to remember the girl I used to be... back in high school. Before things changed. He doesn't say it, but I know he knows.
He knows that the reason I died inside was because of the man I love. He took everything that made him fall in love with me, and tore it away. In his eyes I'm sure he did it so nobody else would fall for the same things. Needless to say, it's gone.
I could be imagining, but every day it seems like I am waking up inside. Bit by bit. It feels... nice.
I've got to go, he's here.
-Willow Anne Rosenberg
~Part: 7~
Willow jumped up from her spot on the couch when she heard the knock. Spike was here with teriyaki and movies.
"'Ello Luv," Spike smiled down at Willow. "Can I come in?"
"Of course. You really don't have to ask me that, you know. You've been over here how many times this week?" Willow shut the door behind the blonde, trying not to notice the soft, tight feelings in the pit of her stomach that sprung to life everytime she saw the vampire. After all, she was married.
"Now, Red. How many times have we had this exact conversation? They're called manners. I may be a bloodthirsty demon, but it pays to be polite. Say please, and thank you. Always respect your elders, except for the poof, and never put your elbows on the table.... What?" Spike looked up at Willow in confusion.
The redhead stood in the middle of the living room, staring at him in wonder. He couldn't figure out what she was looking at. She never looked at him, always the floor or his feet.
"Do I have blood on my face or something?"
"No. Nothing like that at all. It's just... thank you. A lot."
"For what, pet? For dinner? Because you don't have to thank me. I don't mind, I've got money and--"
"No. For being my friend." Willow's eyes returned to the floor.
Spike set down the bag of videos and teriyaki, moving to stand before Willow. "Listen, Willow, you don't ever have to look down when you're talking to me. You don't have to be afraid I'll laugh, or get angry, or whatever it is that makes you talk to my boots. You and me? We're equals, as far as I see it. Got it?" Spike tilted Willow's head up to look into her wet, cypress eyes.
Willow just nodded, trying not to cry.
"Now. No tears, we've got tearjerkers enough for that later," Spike dragged Willow to the couch and sat her down upon it. "You just dig in to your teriyaki, I'll put on the first picture."
~Part: 8~
Willow giggled through her tears when she looked at Spike. They were watching Practical Magic, one of her favorite movies, and she was shocked to find that Spike was crying too.
"What?" He glared defensively at Willow, reaching for the tissue. "It's bloody sad."
"I know, I'm crying too, but... you're Spike. And this is a chick flick. Even Buffy laughed at me for crying in this movie," Willow replied, wiping at her eyes.
"Well, the slayer has got the sense of a goldfish so sod her. It's just so sad that Sally never wanted to fall in love and now she's losing her true love, the one she made for herself."
"You've never seen this movie, so I guess it's understandable... Pay attention. I love this part," Willow settled back onto the couch, sneaking covert glances at Spike.
~~~*~~~
Willow woke at 2:30 AM alone, a note from Spike taped to the television.
Red,
It was great fun staying up and watching videos with you. Sorry I didn't wake you before I left but I figured you could use the sleep, what with keeping my hours and all. What are you doing tomorrow night? Want to go out someplace? Give us a bell.
-S
At the bottom of the note was the most adorable thing Willow had ever seen. Spike had drawn a little stick person with short hair and fangs smiling. Beside it was his phone number (presumably).
Yawning, Willow took the note and padded barefoot up the stairs to the bathroom. Brushing her teeth she thought about Spike. The fuzzy feelings weren't going away. In fact, they were becoming quite hairy. This was bad.
They'd watched Pearl Harbor after Practical Magic, and they'd used a box of tissues between them before the movie was up. Of course, his were tinted pink since he cried slightly bloody tears.
Rubbing tiredly at her eyes Willow put the note in her journal, and climbed into bed. Her last thoughts before sleep took her were of the blond that had snuck his way into her life, her good graces, and her heart.
~~~*~~~
"...mmm...Hello?" Willow mumbled into the phone looking at the clock. It was ten AM.
"Did I wake you up?"
"Who is this?"
"This is your husband. Who else would it be, Willow?" Oz demanded, jealousy turning his words dark and distorting them.
"I'm sorry, I just woke up. Of course it's you, I don't talk to anyone else."
"Fine. I was just calling to say that I'm staying with some friends up her for another week, then I'm coming home." Oz's voice was cold and uncaring.
"I love you."
The click of the call ending brought tears to Willow's eyes. Sighing, she got up and went about her daily routine. Cup of tea, read a few chapters of her book (this week it was The Pilot's Wife), take a shower, check the mail, write in her journal.
Opening her journal, the once-witch smiled. Spike's little note was in the front, daring her to call him. Picking up the phone she nibbled on her lip. Should she call him? Oh, why the hell not.
~~~*~~~
"Mmph."
"Hello? Spike?"
"We don't want any, go 'way," Spike mumbled sleepily into the reciever.
"It's Willow. I'll call you back later."
"Oh. Oh... hold on a minute, Red. What's up?"
"Nothing I was just calling to tell you that I checked my date book, and I don't have any plans tonight," Willow's tone was playful. "What did you want to do?"
"Arg... it's ten in the morning. Christ. Umm..." Spike yawned. "Wanna go to the beach?"
"Sure. Sounds good. What time?"
"I'll pick you up at dusk."
"Okay, bye Spike."
"Bye, Red."
~Part: 9~
Ten minutes after the sun set Spike pulled up in Willow's driveway, loud music blaring. Turning off the engine, he climbed out of the car.
Willow was sitting on the front porch waiting for him, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Whacha got in yer arms, William?"
"You *know* I hate that name, *ducks*."
"Fine, fine. I surrender. Now give, what is it?"
Willow squinted in the dark, eyes making out a brown shape. It was wiggling.
"I ... er... I got you a present. If you don't like it, I'll keep him. But if you do... then, I'll just have to visit him a lot."
"Oh, Spike, he's so cute. What's his name?" Willow took the tiny chocolate lab from Spike's arm. She giggled as she felt his warm, wet tongue lapping at her chin.
"That's your call, pet. He's for you."
"I wonder what Oz will... Well, he can't be mad at me for a puppy."
"One of these days, Willow, we need to sit down and talk. Not about silly, meaningless things."
"Well, that night is *not* tonight, Mister. Maybe I can call him that. What do you think, Mister?"
The puppy yapped at her tone, wiggling in her arms.
"Sounds like he likes it. Hopefully he'll like water, let's go," Spike held the door to his DeSoto open for Willow.
"Thank you, kind sir."
~Part: 10~
It was almost eleven by the time Willow and Spike arrived at the beach. During the car ride both Willow and Mister had exhausted themselves playing, and were both snoozing gently on the seat next to the vampire.
Spike climbed out of the DeSoto quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping redhead, or her new puppy.
Spike had been reading the paper when he noticed an ad for a free chocolate lab puppy. It was less that a block from his house, so when the sun went down he'd gone over there. The lady who'd given Mister to him said that the puppy was her son's dog, and he'd just recently died of pnemonia. She couldn't bear to keep the puppy, so Spike took him. She also gave him a leash and the remaining puppy food.
The puppy had gnawed at the fingers on Spike's free hand all the way to the hacker's house. Not that Spike minded. He'd never had a pet before, that was always Dru, and they were just so... cute.
Spike snorted and lit a cigarrette. Who'd a thunk it? A master vampire like him, calling a puppy cute. Oh well, went with all the other sappy feelings he'd been having lately. Funny the way that works... the things that meant the most to him were both trustingly asleep in the front seat of his DeSoto. And they were both snoring.
~~~*~~~
Willow woke to the feeling of a cold, wet nose on her midrif. ((I KNOW I CAN'T SPELL PEOPLE.)) Mister was being a typical puppy, and snuggling with the warm spots. She smiled softly before giggling when he snorted. Sitting up, she pulled the pup into her arms, wondering where Spike had gotten to. Craning her neck she saw him, standing barefoot in the sand.
Getting out of the car, Willow felt the cool sea mist mix with drops of rain. It wasn't the best night to go to the beach, but anywhere with Spike was fun. Putting Mister on the beach and watching him set off exploring the area near the car, the redhead pulled off her socks and shoes.
Nights like these were her favorite. The sky was a dark blue, almost turquoise. Rain fell cool onto her crimson locks and her shirt, making the latter stick to her body. Shivering, she headed towards Spike, calling Mister after her.
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