SERIES: Choices (#7)

AUTHOR: Tisienne Blue

E-MAIL: tisatko@msn.com
 
 
 

So he's back. He actually came back, and now...? He won't even *look* at me! And maybe it's my fault for getting so pissed off when I finally saw him again, but he was gone for *three* *days*! I mean, I'd thought we were becoming something to each other, and he took off without a word, and... Okay, I was a little upset. A *lot* upset.

I shouldn't have yelled at him. And I probably shouldn't have hit him, either, but... He was just *standing* there, looking so smug, and I couldn't *help* it! I broke up with my girlfriend, and had to move back to my parents' house, and I did it all because of *him*-- because I thought we might *have* something! So he could've at *least* had the decency to look like he was sorry for leaving the way he did! But he just looked at me, and smirked that wicked-ass-sexy Spike-smirk of his, and... If I hadn't been so angry, I would have thrown him down on the floor of the crypt and taken him hard. But I didn't.

No, instead of jumping him and riding him until neither of us could move, I... I yelled, and I hit him, and I cried, and... I walked away. Well, okay, I *ran* away. I ran out into the sunlight, and kept going, even when I heard him calling my name. I *couldn't* go back, much as I wanted to. Not after I'd seen how much he didn't care about what he'd put me through. The worrying *alone* probably took years off my life.

It took a good two or three hours of crying into my pillow for me to realize that a good part of my bizarre behaviour was due to... relief. Relief that he wasn't a big pile of dust. Relief that he hadn't left for good. Relief that... whatever he'd left for hadn't been enough to hold him. The *rest* of my reaction, though, was comprised of equal parts anger and fear. The anger is pretty obvious, I guess, but the fear? Well...

What if he *didn't* really care about me? It was possible, I told myself. Maybe while he'd been gone, he'd realized that I wasn't what he wanted. He'd never actually *said* he loved me, after all. Of course, I'd never told him how *I* felt, either, but that's different! I was involved with someone else, and saying those words while I was still attached to her would have been just... *wrong*. But whatever. I saw him, I yelled at him, I hit him, and I ran. That's the truth of it. And ever since then...

Well, ever since then, he hasn't said *anything* to me. He comes to our little meetings, and stares at the pages of whichever book he's pretending to read, and when he *does* speak, it's in monosyllables, and never to *me*. He doesn't even acknowledge that I'm *there*, and I can't help but wonder if he's even noticed that Tara sits as far away from me as is humanly possible while still being in the same room, and... Every time I've tried to approach him, to explain why I acted that way, and apologize, he's just... stared right through me and left.

Maybe it was to learn how to love...

Maybe it was to learn how to leave...

Maybe it was for the games we played....

Maybe it was to learn how to choose...

Maybe it was to learn how to lose...

Maybe it was for the love we made...

Love is everything they said it would be...

Love made sweet and sad the same...

But love forgot to make me too blind to see,

You're chickening out, aren't you...?

You're banging on the beach like an old tin drum.

I can't wait til you make the whole kingdom come,

So I'm leaving...

But I watched him last night from the corner of my eye, and I *saw* the sly, almost invisible glances he kept flinging in my direction, and that same smug little grin kept playing at the corners of his lips, and... Maybe he's punishing me. Maybe I hurt his feelings when I didn't just... throw myself into his arms like I wanted to at first. It's possible. Regardless of what Giles and Xander might think, Spike *does* have feelings, and not *all* of them have to do with wishing he could still kill humans.

So... it's the way he kept darting his eyes to me and away that's got me convinced. Spike *does* love me. I have to believe that. I *have* to! Because if he doesn't...? Well, if that's the case, then he's only been *playing* with me, and I just can't accept that.

But three days is long enough for me to let things stand; long enough to be punished by his silence. It's time to break through to him; time to go to him and tell him what I've done and why. It's time to tell him that... I've left Tara. Because I love him.

I deliberately didn't go to the crypt last night, mostly because I didn't want to take the chance that he'd brush by me and dash off into the night on whatever 'important business' he could think up, so I went home. Not that my parents' house is much of a home to me these days, but... I don't have anywhere else to go. The apartment is Tara's, so... And maybe it was because I'm so uncomfortable in the house I grew up in, but I didn't sleep at all well. I was constantly plagued with horrible dreams.

I dreamt about Spike, of course. I dreamt that I went to him, and he laughed in my face for thinking that *he*-- the Big Bad-- could ever truly *care* for someone like me. I think 'You're just a place to get my dick wet.' was the nicest thing my dream-Spike had to say. Of course, I'm almost entirely sure that that was just my subconscious fears coming out, because... I don't think he would have looked at me the way he did before he left, or touched me so tenderly, if he didn't care. Now, I just have to find out for sure.

Maybe it was to learn how to fight...

Maybe it was for the lesson in pride...

Maybe it was the cowboy's way...

Maybe it was to learn not to lie...

Maybe it was to learn how to cry...

Maybe it was for the love we made...

Love is everything they said it would be...

Love did not hold back the reins....

But love forgot to make me too blind to see,

You're chickening out, aren't you...?

You're banging on the beach like an old tin drum.

I can't wait til you make the whole kingdom come,

So I'm leaving...

My heart is racing a mile a minute, and I wish I had asthma or something, because that would explain my shortness of breath, but I don't, so I know it's just nerves. I don't think I've ever *been* this nervous. I almost want to forget all about this... just turn and go back to the house... Maybe get a few cats so I can practice being the 'crazy cat-lady' that every town seems to have, but... That's old Mrs. Jenkins' job, so...

I steel myself to accept whatever's about to happen, and... I push open the door to the crypt, closing it quickly behind me, and... Gods, he's beautiful.

He's laying back on the bed, one arm stretched out over his head, and one pale, nicely muscled leg is extending from beneath the dark sheet that barely covers his hips. I think he's sleeping, but... I can't back off now, because I have a feeling that if I do, I'll never have the strength to come back. 'Spike...' I hear myself saying, and my heart stops for just an instant when his glorious blue eyes open and meet mine immediately, and I suddenly *know*. He's been awake since I got here, and probably for a while before that; he was just waiting for me to make some kind of a move.

This feels odd to me. I've never been the one to do the pursuing, and yet here I am, acting like some kind of suplicant who's unsure of their own worthiness. And I suppose that's what I *am*. I'm no Buffy, and Gods know I'm definitely no Drusilla, but... I love him. I love him more than I ever thought was possible, and... 'I'm sorry,' I tell him, slowly moving closer.

He sits up, eyes holding mine, and I can't pull my gaze away for anything. 'Sorry...?' he echoes, and there's a look on his face that I've never seen before, except in the mirror. It's a questioning, fearful look-- like he thinks he knows what I'm sorry about, and is afraid he's right-- and suddenly I'm sitting on the edge of the bed.

'I'm sorry I lost my temper the other day,' I explain, 'And that I didn't know how to handle whatever it is we've been doing...' His fingers are suddenly wrapped around my hands, and he's scooting down on the bed, slowly moving closer to me, and I still can't seem to drag my eyes from his. 'I'm sorry I couldn't tell you how I felt before you went... wherever it is you went, and... I shouldn't have hit you, Spike..." My voice sounds a bit breathless, and on the one hand, I hate that because it makes me seem weak, but how can I be anything *but* breathless when he's only inches away, and I know he's completely naked under that dark red sheet?

I'm still licking my lips a few moments later, and it takes all the willpower I have to answer him when he asks his question, but I force myself to focus, because... I don't want to say it in the heat of the moment, and have him doubt me. 'How you feel...?' he said, and 'Love you, Spike,' I answer, heart pounding like a fucking jackhammer. 'Love you,' I say again, still caught in his eyes, 'So much...'-- and I don't think he knows what to say, because he's just sitting there, looking stunned.

'I'm sorry,' I tell him, but he stops me quickly and simply, by pressing his lips hard against mine, and... Have I mentioned that the man can *kiss*? Well, he *can*. He's teasing my lips with his tongue, and when I open them slightly, he thrusts that lovely, flexible muscle deep into my mouth, and when he eventually pulls back, it's only to nibble and nip at my lips. His fingers have abandoned my hands for my hair, and his smooth, chiseled chest is right up against my shirt, and I'm glad I wore a tank top today, because they're fairly cheap, and easily replaced. And now his fingers are pulling the torn shirt away from my skin, and his mouth is on my neck, and I don't know what to do about my skirt, because I *don't* want to let go of him for long enough to take it off, but I also don't want it to become a casualty because I *like* this skirt! But he's laying back, and pulling me with him, and I'll be damned if I don't think that's a *fine* idea. So maybe I can take care of the skirt, and *not* let him go... or at least, not entirely.

My lips are pressed tightly against his, and I smile just a little when I pull away and he groans. But I'm not going far, and judging by the sound of his next moan, he realizes it, too, because... I'm licking his neck, and he tastes just a bit salty, and kind of spicy, too. That flavour covers his whole body, as I'm finding out; it's even in the slight depths of his navel. So I'm hanging out here, driving him slowly mad, if the sounds he's making are any indication, and I have just enough sense left to balance myself on one hand while the other works the zipper of my skirt down. It takes a few minutes, but I *do* get the damned thing down my thighs eventually, and I manage to kick it from my legs and off the bed, even as I take the broad, cool head of his slightly seeping cock into my mouth.

His hands are on my head again, and honestly, I love the sensation. His fingers are tugging lightly at my hair, and he's writhing a little beneath me, and it's only a matter of minutes before he's thrusting shallowly up into my mouth. I know I'm moaning in time with him, but I don't care, and he seems to be enjoying it when I do, so I moan just a bit harder, scraping my bottom teeth lightly along the thick vein on the underside of his penis. Yeah, he likes that, all right.

I really want to feel him cum in my mouth... I want to taste him again. It's been almost a week, after all, so I think I deserve *that* much. But Spike, apparently, has other ideas, because his fingers are tight in my hair now, and he's pulling me up his cool, tense form, and... Oh, Gods! Suddenly I'm on my back, and his long, smooth body is pressing down on me, and his lips! Gods, his lips are moving over my breasts, and his hands are roving ceaselessly on my too-hot skin, and he's still moving! I barely manage to hold in a loud shriek when he tears the panties from my skin and his wonderful tongue drives deep into me, and I know I'm leaking moisture like a punctured water balloon, but somehow I just don't care, because... He's perfect! But I suddenly understand why he pulled me away from his cock, because... while I *do* want to cum, I want it to be with him inside me, so I react exactly the way *he* did, and drag his reluctant body up mine, moaning when I drive my tongue deep into his mouth and taste myself all through him. My legs wrap around his trim waist as though they've got a mind of their own, and I meet his hot, hungry eyes as he presses forward.

I'm echoing his moans while he starts moving inside me, and I know this is going to be over all too soon. It's been too long for the *both* of us, and while I'm sure he's masturbated in the meantime-- because Gods know *I* have-- it just isn't the same, and I know, right in this moment, that he *does* love me. It really *is* there in his eyes. He loves me more than I ever thought anyone would, and even if he never says it, I'll still know it's true. But I can't think about that right now, because he's moving harder and faster within me, and he's slipped one arm under my leg and lifted it, and I know for a *fact* that no one's ever been so deep inside me. I can almost feel him sliding up into my throat, he's so deep. And the demon's coming out, and Gods, I love *it*, too! I want to kiss him, run my tongue over and between those jagged teeth, but his mouth is too far away, and I don't want him to stop what he's doing. So I arch harder against him, shivering when my clit grinds roughly against his crisp, dark curls, and... Oh, Gods! Oh, Gods, he's... AMAZING! And quick as that, it's all over for me... I'm shuddering hard, and I can't seem to stop, and his hips... his hands... his*cock*... Gods!

So I shook wildly for a minute or six, and now... I can feel him straining, holding back, and I think I know why, but I want... I *need*... 'Cum for me...' I murmur, meeting his bright golden eyes, 'Cum for me, Spike...' And wonder of wonders, he listens to me, and... His fingers dig deep into my shoulders, and his eyes roll back, and my bliss is only intensified by the sensation of him slamming even harder and deeper into me, and when I feel him explode, filling me to overflowing with his cool, viscous fluids...? Well, of course it sends me flying again, and...

I'm holding him tightly while he gasps against my neck, and I suppose it's just a habit left over from his human days, but I like it-- the breathing, I mean-- and I stroke his back lightly, smiling when he starts to purr. I wonder what it would feel like if he bit me now. Much better than when Harmony did, I'm sure. And that thought makes me wonder something else.

He can't harm a living human; I understand that. But what if he's not *hurting* them? What if they *want* to be bitten? Is that a loophole in the chip's programming? Is it possible that he might be able to... bite me... if I *ask* him to? Or does the chip interpret *any* bite to a human as being hostile in intent? It's something to think about, but not right now, because...

He lifts his head, his human seeming sliding over his true features once more, and he moves slightly on me, his softening cock shifting a bit within me, and he sighs. But it sounds like a happy sigh, so I'm not too worried. 'Willow,' he says, 'I... I love...' and I can see he's having trouble saying the words, so I cut him off with a swift kiss.

'I know,' I say, cupping his cheek gently in my palm, 'I know, Spike...' And it feels so odd to have everything I want, but I do, and... how can I complain?

So take a lesson from the strangeness you feel,

And know you'll never be the same...

And find it in your heart to kneel down and say

I gave my love, didn't I...?

And I gave it big... sometimes...

And I gave it in my own sweet time...

I'm just leaving...

So I watch him sleep, my hand resting lightly on his stomach, and I smile softly when he whispers my name out loud. But it's almost time for me to meet the others at the magic shop. They want to do still more research on something that we couldn't stop even *with* all the particulars. But I suppose we have to try.

It's hard to pull myself away from him, but... I have commitments to my friends, and I have to at least *try* to do what I can for now, because... Once they find out about me and Spike...? I have a feeling they're gonna cut me off.

I hope they don't. I hope they'll be able to look at it reasonably, but... Hope is just that. It's *hope*, and I know my friends. Sure, they'll get used to it eventually, but... it's not going to be pretty at first. And that's okay, because... I love him. I will *always* love him. And I can live with being shut out of my friends' lives for a while, as long as I have *him*.

So I get dressed, or at least I try to, but it's difficult, what with my shirt *and* my panties being shreds of their former selves. But I've gone without underwear before, so that's no big. As for a shirt... well, I don't think Spike's gonna mind *too* much if I borrow one of his. Besides, the red buttondown looks really good with my skirt, and it's not like I won't give it back to him later. I look over my shoulder one last time before stepping out into the sunlight, and I blow him a kiss, grinning when he smiles. The big faker.

Love... is everything...

Love... is everything...

Love... is everything...

End.

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