Title: Floating Stakes
Author: Luisa
Email: luisa_barros@hotmail.com
Rating: Rating: PG
Description: Second sequel to The Devastation Trilogy.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all.
Dedication: To Kathryn. ;-)

They walked together through the dark. Outside the air was scented and crisp, and Willow found herself embraced by a million stars. Spike bought a pack of cigarettes at a nearby convenience store along with a tuna sandwich for her. "Eat up...give your blood a yummy tang."

Her eyes were instantly on his sardonic expression. His idea of a joke. He didnīt take anything seriously. Least of all pain. She accepted the sandwich and said nothing. The vampire glanced at her tense features.

"Pet, letīs clear something up. Thereīs two of us and Iīm not gonna chat to the bleeding stars, alright?", he snapped.

The girl stopped chewing, anger crushing her appetite. "Eating or talking. Pick one."

With a sharp growl, he swirled her towards him. "Both. And donīt give me cheek. You got that?"

Her upper arm throbbed and it was all his doing. "Yes...let go."

He freed her and lit up.

"OK, so letīs talk, Spike. Murder, torture, rape...great range of topics. Where do we start?", her voice dripped sarcasm but it failed to reach her face which was white and agonized.

Spike shrugged. "Blood, fun and a good shag. All talked-through. Howīs your magic?"

For a moment, she was taken aback. Nobody ever asked her about the black art. Which in her case was more foggy grey.

"My magic?...itīs, uh...tricky...I can float a pencil.", she finally ventured out, convinced that heīd mock her abilities.

He was busy spewing out smoke. "A stake too?"

The question was casual but Willow wasnīt fooled. "If need be."

She knew perfectly well that floating a stake was beyond her power. Emotions were never stable when it came to dusting someone and sheīd probably end up maiming herself. But she wouldnīt tell him that.

"Nice threat, love. Worthy of a witch." His lack of concern humiliated her.

"I can dust you. So donīt try me."

There was something sweetly pathetic about the chit. He decided to humour her.

"I wonīt.", he earnestly assured her, smirking inwardly.

"What about Wolf-Boy? Any fur by mail yet?"

Willowīs lips quivered.

Spikeīs eyebrows arched briefly as he took in her reaction. When no answer was forthcoming, he snorted. "Guess not...oh well."

The girl tried to distance herself from him. Physically. One arm snatched her around the waist before sheīd taken two steps.

"No." His face burnt with menace. A promise of further pain unless she changed her ways.

She was so tired of being hurt...strangely enough, he wasnīt even the main culprit. Buffy had forsaken her best friend for the prospect of fun with Faith. Xander...well, he had done pretty much the same thing. In a guy way. She felt lonelier than ever and casting tiny spells that backfired or hacking into forbidden places was a way of escape. Of keeping busy. Spike knew all this and used it whenever it suited him. He had no qualms. Icy fingers suddenly slid over her cheek. His voice was eerily warm...binding her.

"Just say something, Red. About the bloody weather, the moon...books, mojos...whatever."

She looked at him. Face...making her. "I canīt float a stake..." Her eyes filled with tears. "Iīm not good enough." She brushed the back of her hand against her lips and stared at the crimson streak. "I donīt wear lipstick..." Spike sighed. "I hurt. Pain hurts, Spike.", she murmured, vulnerable and bereft.

He shrugged, blue gaze never leaving her face. "Sorta the whole point of it, pet." He tossed his cigarette butt on the ground and drew her closer. "The sooner you learn that...the better.".

THE END