Title: Deathwish
Author: Wildecate
Email: Wildecate@hotmail.com
Rating: G
Summary: Willow does something stupid and Spike acts out of character.
Disclaimer: Joss owns everything - we all know this song......
Dedicated to Lara who asked me to try something new.

It was late and once again Willow was still not home. It wasn't that Buffy was worried....it was just that she was worried. She paced the floor a little bit before sitting back down on the bed to make yet another wooden stake. A large pile stuffed into the sports bag down the side of her bed was testament to how long she had been waiting. This was so unlike Willow, being late, not calling. Although she had been doing a lot of things that weren't like Willow recently. Ever since Oz had left Willow had been in a world of her own, doing things and saying things that definitely weren't normal Willow.

Her side of the room was incredibly tidy, everything put in its place, books stacked neatly in the bookcase. Nothing to betray anything about the occupant - all her spellbooks were in the large box under her bed in much the same way that all of Buffy's equipment was stored under her bed as well. Only one photo, framed in silver, sat on her chest of drawers and showed Buffy, Xander and Willow laughing together, looking up at the camera. Buffy remembered that day. It had been a hot summer's day and they had spent the day together relaxing, just hanging, drinking coffee and not really much else. No talk of vampires or demons or anything like that. Those were the times when Buffy thought that she really could be normal. Willow and Xander kept her rooted in the real world, reminded her what she protected and who she was fighting for, reminded her that she had a higher purpose and could not afford to be selfish with her life. She realised how much she cared for Willow and this set her mind back into the worrying pattern. She could go out and look for her, pretend to be on patrol, but then she might miss Willow when she came home. Buffy fiddled with the large knife she was using and suddenly the phone rang, making her jump.

"Hello"

"Hello pet" the lazy tones of her favourite vampire came across the wire.

"Spike, what do you want?"

Spike spoke without preamble, no teasing, no nasty comments about Angel and this disturbed Buffy far more than what he was saying.

"This is just to let you know I've got Willow with me. She's asleep at the moment and its probably best she stays that way, at least for tonight."

"Why is Willow with you?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Tell me" Buffy's voice was dangerously soft.

Spike sighed "I found her walking in the cemetery. She was on her own. I was.....wandering and saw her. I thought that you probably weren't too far away, I thought she was patrolling with you. She walked right into a group of vampires."

"She did what?" Buffy nearly shouted.

"Didn't scream or anything, didn't even put up a fight."

"So?"

Spike sounded embarrassed, as if he wasn't sure how to explain the next bit.

"Well, I knew you'd stake me if I didn't help her so I waded in. At least I can still kill vampires."

"You saved her?"

"I killed the vampires and brought her back here. She was really upset and she cried a lot and then she fell asleep."

"You saved Willow?"

"Slayer, don't you go making anything out of this. You'd have killed me if anything had happened to her. I'm protecting my own interests, nothing more."

"I'll come and see her in the morning."

“You do that. I just thought I better let you know. Wouldn’t want you pacing the floor.”

Buffy put the phone down and sat back on her bed. Willow was obviously in more trouble than she had realised. How weird that Spike had been the one to save her.

Spike put down the phone in the phone booth and wandered back to his cell. The little red head was curled up on the bed watching the TV that he had switched on to distract her. Her huge green eyes looked up at him when he came in and he smiled a little at her.

"I've got you some food, because I don't have any. Hope that you like tortillas. It’s all I could get."

She nodded silently.

"And some stuff to clean your face and neck up with."

Willow sat up and allowed Spike to clean the blood from her face and neck. The disinfectant stung but she never moved. Spike tried desperately hard to ignore the smell of her blood, knowing that all that waited for him there if he tried anything was a migraine and probably a stake through the heart from Buffy. He longed to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing out there but he wasn't sure he'd like the answer. He cleaned off her hands, taking each in his huge paw like hands as he did so. She really was a tiny little thing, so fragile and delicate. He could trace the lines of her veins up from the backs of her hands across her wrists and up her arms. The mad compulsion to drink suddenly passed and was replaced with anger which was just as hard to keep in check.

“Willow, what the hell were you thinking?”

She just looked at him silently, eyes dark in her pale face. Spike took hold of her shoulders and shook her hard, unable to stop himself. God he was angry with her and all she did was sit there looking at him. He lost his temper with her.

“You’ve got to stop this - pull yourself together. Just because he’s left doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. Life goes on.”

She stared at him stunned at the outburst but still did not speak and Spike finally realised exactly what she had been doing out there that night, why she hadn’t fought, why she was so badly injured, why she hadn’t screamed.

“You stupid girl, you’ve got a fucking deathwish. Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean this is the end. You can’t do stupid things like this. You were trying to kill yourself.”

Willow looked down at her hands, scratched and bruised and he knew he was right. He also knew that shouting at her wouldn’t get through to her. He knelt down in front of her and tenderly he took her injured hands in his and looked up at her. Her green eyes were filled with pain and loneliness and were gradually filling with tears again. This time he did not try and stop her from crying but spoke softly, persuasively, the way he had to Drusilla when she had been upset.

“Willow, Oz is not the be all and end all of your life - you consist of more than him. You’re a talented witch, you’re smart and fun and pretty. Just because some wolf can’t deal with himself doesn’t mean you have to go killing yourself over him. I’d say he’s not worth it but you’d probably hit me. But for the record, he’s not worth this.”

That brought a smile to Willow’s face and the tears spilled over and slid down her cheeks.

“Oh pet.” Spike’s normal endearment for Drusilla slipped out when he saw her anguish and he wrapped his arms around her trying to give her some comfort. Willow laid her head against Spike’s shoulder and sobbed unable to stop herself. It was horrifying the way her whole frame shook with each sob and Spike silently vowed to himself that if he ever got his hands on Oz the first thing he’d do is punch him.

“Oh pet, shh shh. It’s OK, everything’s going to be OK.”

“How can it be OK? He’s gone, and it’s my fault and he’s gone. He’s gone, Spike, what am I going to do?”

Spike let go of her and she hid her face in her hands. He lifted her chin gently and wiped away the tears.

“You’re going to eat your tortillas, and I’m going to drink my blood and then we’ll watch ‘Oprah’ and laugh at people worse off than us.”

Spike stood up and tousled her red hair gently.

“You’ll be fine pet. I still miss Dru like crazy, and we were together longer than you and Wolfboy. Life goes on, or not in my case.”

Spike’s dreadful sense of humour made Willow smiled and she dried her face off on the sleeve of her jumper and accepted the plate of tortillas and chilli he offered her. He settled his long frame next to her holding a mug in his hand and then lifted his arm up.

“Come here.”

She wriggled backwards on the bed until she was leaning against the wall with Spike’s arm around her and he changed channels until he found Oprah.

This was seriously weird. This was Spike and yet he had managed to make her feel better than Xander or Buffy had. Maybe it was because she knew he wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t be bothered, unless it suited his own purpose and there was no underhand purpose here. Funny that, finding comfort in him. Willow finished her food and settled herself against him, leaning her head against his shoulder. She could smell him, leather and whiskey and cigarettes, the way Oz used to smell when he finished a Dingoes gig. Tears threatened again and she blinked them away furiously. She watched the little figures on TV moaning and whining and gradually her eyes closed and she was asleep.

Spike was aware of this, the tears and then the sleep. He moved carefully, trying not to wake her and then laid her down on the bed, pulling the covers up over her. He regarded her for a moment, looking like a child scrunched up beneath the covers, concentrating even in sleep and allowed his fingers to push her hair back off her face.

He sat down at the end of the bed, out of her way, and channel hopped until he found a tacky late night film and, ignoring it totally, watched Willow sleep.