Title: Gift
Author: Luisa
Email: luisa_barros@hotmail.com
Rating: PG13, I guess.
Description: Third sequel to The Devastation Trilogy.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all.

I.


Willow was drained. It had been a long day, made longer by absurd reflection on what her life had become. It wasn´t her fault...but it felt like it was.Coming home put an end to most things. Thought wasn´t one of them. That afternoon she´d started telling Buffy about Spike. At first it´d been a pen that wouldn´t write.

"Sorry, Will, what was that?"

The redhead took a deep breath and tried again.

"Oh God, I´m coming down with something...", Buffy moaned, rummaging in her bag for tissues.

Willow gripped her little Pez Witch tighter, attempting not to scream.

"...and on top of that I´ve got training. Faith´s all let´s-kick-butt and I´m...sniffing!", her face was a tragedy mask. A cloud of pain darkened her best friend´s eyes but Buffy had her face buried in a tissue.

"Tea...", Willow sighed, "the camomile version. And a nice nap. Training can wait." This gave rise to one of Buffy´s edgy tirades on Giles´ constant nagging. "Tell him to sod off." The Slayer stared. Her friend smiled weakly and shrugged.


II.


There was a parcel on her bed. That meant he´d been in the house. Or was. Willow took off her coat and placed it slowly on a chair. She tried to ignore the gift but after a while that proved impossible. Her eyes kept being drawn to it and she´d have no peace till she gave in. Moving towards the bed, she cut the string and unwrapped the most beautiful nightdress she´d ever seen. White silk...it was almost too much. Her balcony doors opened and Spike calmly strolled in with an expression of winning satisfaction. He put away his lighter.

"What´s this...", she asked.

Purely rhetorical. She knew what it was and she loved it. As he knew she did.

"A second skin. Put it on, sweet."

It wasn´t a request. The girl fidgeted. Spike gave her a few seconds then glared.

"Putting it on!...now...Just face the wall or something...? Please...?"

Distress. He rolled his eyes.

"Pet, do I have to spell it out for you? I want to watch. So get to it." Plain-spoken.

Removing her shoes, Willow tried not to grieve.


III.


Unbuttoning herself under his gaze was an ordeal. She blushed and fumbled and ached. He sat in a wicker chair, thighs wide apart, a growing look of amusement on his face. Willow let her skirt slide to the floor and stepped away from it. Spike placed a cigarette between his lips. Her hands trembled as she unclasped her bra. It fell but she instantly shielded her breasts. Green eyes were lost. He threw the unlit cigarette aside and got up. As he reached for her, she flinched.

"Settle down...", his tone was smooth. She shuddered and looked away.

In a brutal move, he toppled her onto the bed, seizing her wrists. Willow was too startled to cry out. He had morphed. She gazed at him, young and unstained. Red hair cascaded on the bedspread. Spike felt her body tremble. His face slowly lost its hideous mask and eyes became blue again. Collapsing against her breast, he closed them. She lay still, crying softly.

"It wasn´t about hurting you.", the vampire sighed, "Not the whole time..."

THE END