AUTHOR: Tisienne Blue
E-MAIL: tisatko@msn.com
DISCLAIMER: As I am neither balding, nor male, I am not Joss Whedon... all characters belong to HIM.
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: S/W... okay, I know, I've been toying with this pairing a bit lately... more W/A in my next fic, okay???
DISTRIBUTION: Charity can have it, as can Jen:), and anyone else I've said yes to (like Karen... hi!!!*BG*)... otherwise, just ask, and I'll most likely say yes...
FEEDBACK: would be nice... haven't gotten much lately, which leads mw to wonder if anybody's actually *reading*... ::sigh::
DEDICATIONS: to everyone who reads this and enjoys it (okay, kind of a sweeping dedi, bit... oh, well...)
NOTES: as usual, * *= emphasis. This is actually based upon a Pretenders song, because I absolutely adore them, and somehow it just seems to fit this fic. This is a one-shot deal, people... no sequels at all!!!
MORE NOTES: for those who care, I will be out of touch for about a week and a half, starting June 12th of this year. I am going to London to attend N3K (for those who know what that is), and I doubt that I will have internet access whilst abroad. I will, however, be returning to the US on the 21st, and I don't doubt that I shall have many many new ideas, so... Consider this fair warning!!! I'm going to TRY to put out at least one part of one of my extant series per night until then, day job permitting, and if any of you have any personal favourites that you'd like me to work more on before I leave, please let me know! Okay, that's all... now on with it!!! *VBG*
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She sat quietly at the bar, one finger tracing lightly around the rim of her glass. It wasn't that she didn't *like* the place; it was, after all, one of her usual haunts, but... Something in the air, in the *night*, seemed to be demanding that she get out into the moonlit expanses, and while she knew it was dangerous, she truly wanted to listen to that desire.
It had been three long years since she'd left her home... three years since she'd said good-bye to the very people who had defined her. But their definition hadn't been the one she'd wanted, especially after her best friend had sacrificed herself in order to save the world. They'd seen her as stable, and reliable, and level-headed, and after what had happened? She hadn't wanted to be *any* of those things! No, she'd wanted to be... unpredictable, and wild, and... *free*! Because if there was one thing she'd learned from Buffy's end, it was that life was too *short*; too *fleeting*; and if she'd stayed there, she would have wasted away, and become bitter. So she'd done what none of them had expected.
She'd gone to the funeral, and made the appropriate remarks. She'd even pretended to *cry*, but that was a lie. Her tears weren't *really* for the small blonde girl buried in the ground, they were for the life she'd have to live if she stayed. And that was why she hadn't backed down, regardless of the things her other friends had said. That was why she'd packed her few *precious* belongings, and thrown them into the boot of the car she used so rarely that none of them even knew it existed. And that was why she'd said her halting farewell to her girlfriend.
She'd been rather surprised at how *easy* it had all been. Say the right words... make it clear that your mind was made up... tell everyone that you just needed 'a break'... and suddenly, you were *free*!
She had a sneaking suspicion that Tara, at least, had recognized the 'break' for what it truly was, but... The blonde witch hadn't said anything to the others, for which the redhead was truly thankful.
She sighed softly, the need to feel the night air against her skin growing even stronger, and she picked up the glass she'd been playing with, and drained it quickly. "No," she said, shaking her head when the bartender would have made her another, "I think I'm done for tonight..." She pushed herself from the stool she habitually occupied and straightened her skirt. "See you later, Joe," she told him, as she turned and walked away.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Almost two years, he reminded himself. It had been almost two years since he'd left Sunnyhell, and he *still* didn't know where he was going.
Oh, he'd *tried* to stay, but somehow it just hadn't been the same. The Slayer was dead, which he'd realized he was both happy and sad about. Happy because he was, after all, a vampire... and sad because he'd once fancied himself in love with her.
At the very least, though, he'd *respected* her; her dedication *alone* had been amazing! And if he were going to be honest with himself, the fact that she'd asked him to look after her sister had drawn him even closer to the gang that was left behind after she'd jumped.
But the Nibblet was just fine-- if still a bit sad-- after a year or so, and the Watcher was taking good care of her, and the absence of the only one of the group whom he could truly *stand* had started wearing at him. So when he'd asked Dawn about it, and she'd said it would be all right, he'd left.
He hadn't had any clear destination in mind, though, and in the time he'd been gone, he'd traveled through just about every state in the bloody colonies. Oddly enough, he'd found himself to be *enjoying* his solitary wanderings.
He hadn't really expected to, mostly because he'd never really *been* on his own before. When he'd been human, there'd been Mother, and once he'd been turned, there was Angelus, and Darla, and *Dru*... And later, it had been he and Drusilla, but then she'd gone even more 'round the bend than she had already been, and somehow... he'd ended up with the Scooby gang. But that was over, and he'd discovered something rather surprising to him in the last twenty-two months... He liked his own company.
He smiled happily, with no trace of a smirk, as he pulled the long-suffering DeSoto over to the curb, and he climbed out, ready to examine this city he'd found himself in. His fingers snaked into his pocket, emerging with a slightly crushed cigarette, and he stepped forward into the circle of light beneath the nearest lamp post as he searched his coat for a match.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She wandered almost aimlessly, nodding unthinking hellos when she crossed the paths of people she recognized. And there were a goodly number of them. Of course, she'd lived in this city for just over two years, having settled there after wandering for a time.
She'd been concerned, at first, that she wouldn't be able to make it on her own, but her computer skills had made finding a job almost frighteningly easy, and her abilities in spellcasting had served as her calling-card with the local coven... once she'd convinced them that she wasn't on the *dark* path, anyway.
She smiled slightly, her feet moving where-so-ever they would, and she almost ignored her own mind when it told her that she recognized someone up ahead. She continued on down the street, barely halting her automatic nod of greeting when she realized just who the man reminded her of.
Her breath caught in her throat for just a moment, and she stopped moving, but... his back was to her, and she *still* couldn't shake the notion that her past had somehow *found* her; come back to *haunt* her... She tried to tell herself to turn away... to just pretend that all the memories weren't rising up inside her, but...
Most of the time, she was able to control herself... usually, she would have been able to walk away, no *problem*. Yet, she found herself crossing the wide street, her eyes locked disbelievingly on the back of the bleached head beneath the streetlight. She didn't know *why* she was doing what she was; it was as though her feeling of earlier-- of the night calling to her-- was taking her over, and she couldn't seem to control herself, no matter how much she told herself to just *turn*... and *run*!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He almost growled as yet another gust of air blew out the match he was trying to use. Of course, he reminded himself, they didn't call it 'the windy city' for nothing! But still, he wanted a fag, and as the wind blew into his face even stronger, he turned around, cupping his hand and sighing happily as he finally succeeded in lighting his cigarette.
It was only then, as he took a deep, long drag from the cylinder between his lips, that he noticed the smallish human female approaching him. A small part of him wished that he'd been able to find a way to remove the chip in his skull, then, because... this girl was so much like the little redhead he'd dreamt about that it was almost frightening, and he would have loved to have killed her for daring to resemble someone who was so inimitable. And yet...
Of course, he reminded himself desperately as she moved closer, it couldn't be her; only someone who *seemed* similar... she'd disappeared, and no-one had been able to find her-- not even the Watcher, when he'd set the Council on her trail.
His eyes flew wide, and a strong tinge of gold entered them, when she continued moving towards him. All of him, demon and former-human alike, was dumbfounded by the identical appearance, and when the wind shifted suddenly, blowing her scent in his direction...? He *knew*! "Willow?" he barely managed to say, before his lips were crushed by hers.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It couldn't be him, she thought as she approached. It couldn't, and yet... he turned, lighting his cigarette, and... it *was*! It *was* him!
She hadn't seen him in almost longer than she cared to remember, because if she *thought* about it, she'd have to think about the way she'd been just... floating. She'd made no real friends; acquired no real connections, and... No!, she told herself, that wasn't important!
What was important, right at that moment, was the fact that the night was singing within her, and the moon was filling her with its pull, and it was *him*-- Spike!-- before her, and she moved even closer, her eyes wide and fixed on his face.
There was no way that she could ever have mistaken that jaw line for another... no chance that his sharply defined cheekbones could exist on any other being, and she stared at him intently, losing herself in the majesty that was... *Spike*. Her hands stretched out, before she even knew it, and as she heard him utter her name, she shook her head quickly, and pressed her lips to his.
His cigarette fell from his fingers, forgotten, and his eyes closed tightly as he felt her warm, soft tongue sliding into his mouth. It wasn't something he'd ever even thought about, but... She was there, in his arms, and... He almost groaned when he realized what all the dreams had meant.
His tongue matched hers, delving deep into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth, and he couldn't bring himself to pull away. He could feel her smallish, tight, toned body pressing hard against him, and he'd be damned if he was going to let her go, but... Did she even know what she was doing?, he wondered. He forced himself to pull his lips from hers, and he stared down into her eyes for just a moment before moaning "Red..."
Her eyes were wide from the taste of tobacco, and something vaguely metallic that she was almost *certain* was blood, but it wasn't a *bad* flavour, and Gods help her, she wanted *more*! But he was looking at her so expectantly, and his fingers were so tentative on her hips, that she couldn't just ignore his questioning tone.
"No *words*," she said, mumbling, "No *talking*!"
He almost wished that he were inclined to ask her the reasons for her stricture, but... he lowered his head, groaning deeply when her mouth once again took his. His hands moved swiftly over her back, and he pressed himself hard against her, groaning again when she met his motions with her own. His fingers dug deep into her back, and he tried to smile against her lips, knowing that she'd bear the marks of him for days to come. But that was forgotten when her slim, elegant fingers slid from his back and stroked harshly at the aching swell in the front of his jeans.
He almost moaned her name, but she'd said 'no words', and he wasn't willing to risk the possibility that she'd actually *meant* it, so he groaned instead, his tongue lashing at her palette.
She had never felt this aroused in her entire life. She didn't know if it was because of the circumstances, or because of the person she was *with*, but... whatever it was, she wasn't going to let the feeling *go*!
She grasped at him again through the front of his pants, and when his hips thrust-- ever so slightly-- towards her, she unfastened the button, and slid the zip down, her mouth still fully occupied with his. She almost groaned when her fingers slipped inside his jeans and found his long, hard cock, but she forced herself to hold her response to a low moan against his lips as she began touching him... stroking him.
He wanted so badly to open his eyes and watch her hand on his turgid shaft, but... she was still kissing him, and he'd be damned yet again if he was going to stop her! He didn't understand how it was that he'd never seen it before, but... she wasn't his *friend*! She'd never been his *friend*! She was his ideal.
All the time he'd spent in Sunnyhell should have made it clear, but it hadn't. It hadn't been clear to him until just that moment.
He'd loved her for years... or at least he'd *wanted* her. It wasn't until she'd gone that he'd felt the need to *wander*, and now that he'd found her again...? Well, he told himself sternly-- even as he continued lashing his tongue against hers-- there was just about *zero* chance that he'd let her go! His mind went blank for just a moment when he felt her nails scraping lightly over the head of his penis, and he growled, his fingers clenching hard at her ass as he spun them and pushed her up against the back of a pickup truck. His lips slid down her chin, and on to her neck, and he thanked whatever deities would listen to him for the fact that they were hidden in the relative darkness of a seldom used street, because... There wasn't even the *slightest* chance that he could wait until they were in a more appropriate setting.
He pulled away from her hungry mouth, and moved one hand to cover hers on his throbbing shaft.
Her eyes opened wide when he touched her hand on him, and she stared deep into his eyes, both thrilled and disturbed to see an answering passion there. Any questions she might have had, however, were dispelled by the sensation if his other hand pulling the stretchy material of her skirt to her waist, and then... Then his fingers were brushing lightly over her sex, combing gently through her auburn curls, and her hands were pushing his jeans down over his hips, and he was *lifting* her! Her head swam as he carried her just a few feet, and she groaned happily when he set her down across the hood of a Cadillac that was so new, it still bore the purchase sticker in the back window. "Spike..." she finally moaned, her fingers grasping hard at his forearms.
Just the sound of his name on her lips was sheer bliss, but there was so much *more* spread out before him; and he took a moment or so to just... *look* at her.
Her lips were swollen and red from the kisses they'd shared, and her nipples were poking hard against the thin cotton of the shirt she wore, and she was breathing... *fast*! His hands slid slowly up her ribs, taking her top with them, and he could have cum just from the sight of her, stretched out before him. She was so *right* for him! Everything within him *screamed* that he had to *claim* the witch!
But he couldn't, and that was the only down-side to this little interlude in his endless 'life'. And then she moaned again-- more deeply-- and he discovered that just at the moment he didn't care! He gently slid his fingers down over her throbbing nub, and he rubbed her softly, watching her face intently.
She almost wanted to just... *take* him! And yet, he was touching her, making her feel *amazingly* good, but she wanted him *inside* her! "Spike!" she said again, demandingly, and she came very close to gasping when she finally felt the thick, cool head of his cock positioned at her entry.
Her hands moved to find the hem of his shirt, and as she slid them beneath it, roaming his cool flesh, he thrust deep and hard into her willing, wet heat. "Spike!" she cried again, eyes closed at the sensation of feeling him so firmly planted within her.
His eyes almost crossed at the feel of being within her, but he forced himself to stop and remain still. His hands tightened more on her sweet, slender hips, and he pulled her closer, reveling in the sound of her skin being dragged across the paint of the new Cadillac, and the sound of pure desire she made when his action drove his pulsating member deeper within her sweet, throbbing core. "Willow..." he sighed, unable to help himself. He closed his eyes then, concentrating on making this last; on not shooting off like a schoolboy after only moments of her tight heat.
It had been so long since he'd done this with someone he *cared* about,
and her slim fingers were roving demandingly over his lower back and his
ass, and she was moaning softly in time with his deep, slow thrusts, and...
God!, he was inside her! Her tight, wet walls were gripping him with a
strength he'd never even imagined, and she was moving her hips against
him, and... He groaned harshly when her long, slender legs wrapped tightly
around his waist, pulling him even deeper into the perfect sheath of her
velvet depths.
Her eyes were wide as she watched him, and she was completely fascinated by the look of *need*, and *discovery* on his face. Of course, her fascination was tempered by the wonderful sensations flowing through her body each time he pulled back; then slipped deep into her again. She could feel the whimpers and small moans coming from her lips each time he stroked into her, and she locked her ankles at the small of his back, her legs tightening and releasing as she approached her fulfillment.
"Spike...." she groaned, her clit rubbing hard against his short, coarse curls, and "Spike..." again, when his thrusts became faster... deeper... more desperate. Her head tilted back against the car's hood, and her eyes closed as she arched hard against him.
His name on her lips almost did him in, but... he could tell that she was almost as close as *he* was, so he forced himself to hold on; to hold *out*; and he moved faster within her, growling slightly when he felt her bowing and heaving against him. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of her as he stroked deep into her, growling a bit more when he opened his eyes and saw the expression of near-release on her face.
He watched her straining features almost desperately, his hips pistoning hard into her perfect heat, and when she shrieked softly, her fingers digging deep into his skin, and he felt her slick, strong muscles clamping even tighter around him, his own back arched hard, and he buried himself balls-deep within her tight, wet channel, his eyes rolling back as he came harder than he ever remembered doing before.
He collapsed almost unwillingly, still planted firmly within her, and he tried to regain control of his body, but... her hands were stroking his back under his shirt, and her breath was warm and moist against his neck, and he could feel the small, involuntary flexing of her hidden muscles around his softening shaft, and... he just couldn't bring himself to *move*... Not yet.
She would have dearly loved to speak; to say something-- *anything*-- to explain what had just happened, but she didn't have the words. It was almost as though something elemental within her had risen to the surface and taken her over. She didn't know how to explain it, or even what it was that she wanted to explain.
They'd come together, yes, but she didn't know how or why, and while she knew that she should be concerned about the sudden-ness of it all, she just... *wasn't*.
Her fingers traced lightly at the sharp muscles of his back, and she reveled in the sensation of his pale, tight body crushing her to the car beneath her, as her heart rate slowly returned to normal, and her hurried breathing slowed. Finally, though, the knowledge that they were in plain sight of anyone who might wander by penetrated her daze, and she sighed-- silently and unhappily-- before pulling her hands from his back and pushing lightly against his shoulders.
He almost groaned when he pulled himself from her, but... she'd wanted him to move, and their location was hardly the place to have the conversation they were going to have to have, so he forced himself to stand up straight as he reassembled his clothing, his eyes locked intently on her.
He watched her pull her skirt back down, and watched as she found her shirt and covered herself with it, a slight sense of disappointment singing through his veins. "So, what now, Red?" he asked her, almost afraid to hear her answer.
Willow shook her head, a small smile crossing her lips. "I'm not going back," she told him honestly. "I don't know how you found me, or why they sent you after me, but I'm *not* going back to that town, and I'm not going back to being meek, mousy Willow, either." She gazed for a moment into his shocked eyes, and smiled a bit more. "*That* Willow doesn't exist any more, if she ever did."
He didn't know what he'd thought she was going to say... maybe that she'd just needed a good fuck, or that she wasn't interested in taking things any further between them, or maybe-- please God!-- that she wanted him to be a part of her life! But whatever he'd been expecting to hear, it certainly wasn't that she thought he'd been *sent* after her! He stepped closer then, his hands grasping her hips, and he pulled her tight against him as he spoke directly into her eyes. "Nobody *sent* me, Will. Nobody in Sunnyhell even knows where I am!" He leaned down, slipping his tongue between her lips when she gasped. "I haven't even *seen* them," he continued, after pulling back slightly, "In almost two years. And I wasn't *looking* for you, but..." He shrugged, his hands sliding around her and locking over her spine. "But I found you, none the less, and..." He shrugged again. "What I *meant*, was... What happens now. With *us*, I mean."
Her eyes widened at the naked longing she could see on his face, and her fingers rose to grasp lightly at his leather-covered arms. She hadn't thought that their little... *encounter* had been anything more than some sort of an aberration for him, but... He wanted her? She turned the idea over in her mind, and found that she wasn't even slightly opposed, but still... "Is there an *us*, Spike?" she asked slowly, her eyes now focused on the tight t-shirt covering his chest, "I mean, I know what just happened, but was it...?" Her voice died out, and she couldn't seem to force any more words from her lips, but the night was still singing within her, and she didn't see how that was a *bad* thing.
He almost laughed at the wistful tone of her voice, but there was just no way he'd let himself do *anything* that she might take as a rejection. So he hugged her tightly to him, his undead heart swelling at her softly contented sigh. "I'd like for there to be an 'us'," he said softly, his hands roaming slowly up and down her tight back, "I'd like for you to give this a chance. I can't make any promises, though." He sighed softly when her hands slipped from his arms, only to smile when her arms wrapped around him. "And as to what happened here? Well, it was... surprising, but then again, I *like* surprises, don't I?" His smile grew wider as she chuckled against his chest, and he tightened his hold on her trim, warm form. "So what do you say, Red...? Want to give it a shot?"
Her eyes opened, and she pulled away from him just a bit as she gazed up into his pale blue eyes. "I... I think I'd like that," she said softly, her heart melting at the look of happy disbelief she saw there. "But one thing, Spike," she continued, as she took his hand and started to lead him down the street, "Don't try to make me into that other Willow, okay?"
He stopped in his tracks, and just stared at her. "There *is* no 'other Willow', pet," he said sternly, "There has always and ever been only you. *I* always saw you, even when you didn't." He nodded at her, and smiled, his grin growing even wider when she pulled him along even faster. He wasn't entirely sure of where the girl was taking him, but judging from the look in her eyes just then, he was fairly sure that it would have a bed, and honestly? Right at the moment, he thought that was just a *great* idea.
End.