Title: Later On
Author: Luisa
Email: luisa_barros@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Category: Angst, Violence. Deals with rape.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon does.
Description: What happens after Devastation
Dedication: To Jennifer
Note: The excerpt from "Hollow as a bone" serves as my own (ironic) comment on what happens in the story.

I.


Willow couldn't see anything. She felt his arms around her back and legs and could hear him whistle, but that was it. Her eyes refused to open and take stock of the damage. Her head had ceased whispering long ago and now there was only silence. To Willow, this silence was full of reproach. She hadn't handled things right, she hadn't done all she could, she hadn't been what she should't was all her fault. She wished she was dead, that he had given death to her as a parting gift. But he had taken a lot and given her nothing. Her eyes finally opened when he stopped. She saw the familiar white door to her home, but there was no comfort in it. It was just a door, not a passage to a safe haven. She didn't want him anywhere near her house, she didn't want him to know where it was...but now he did. He'd probably known it even before he'd...Willow's left hand flew to her face, pressing her forehead. She wouldn't think about that. It sounded like he was talking to her... the tone of his voice hadn't changed one bit. It was unusually deep and glacial, plunging into her ears like something solid. A hammer.

"Just one more thing, Willow." She clenched her teeth at the sound of her name. "Say "Please come in, Spike."" She wasn't ready to do that. Her hand dropped from her face onto her lap, but her lips remained immobile. Her eyes were on his face, perfectly serene. She felt his hand slowly curl around her neck, fingers pressing into her throat.

"Say it." His relentless gaze froze her. The fingers tightened their grip, making it hard for her to breathe. The wound on her skin hurt her and her mind found it difficult to form words.

"Come in, Spike." Someone else was speaking for her.

"Please."

"Please..."

He shrugged lightly. "Don't mind if I do."


II.


Spike had gone and Willow was still there, on the living-room couch. In his shirt. As usual, her parents were away on business, having left her some money for food and other expenses. The house was deserted and hollow. It took her a long time to move. She wanted to wash and she needed to sleep and she couldn't decide which wish came first. She finally dragged herself up the stairs and into the bathroom. Dropping the shirt on the tiled floor, she stepped into the shower. She didn't know what she was doing. Everything seemed so surreal, so strange...she ended up washing her skin with shampoo and her hair with bath gel. The water felt unbearably hot on her body and all she wanted was to get out. Turning off the shower, she reached for a towel and enveloped herself in it, holding it close to her skin. Her fingernails buried themselves in the fabric.

Moving towards her room, she dropped onto the bed. It looked the same. She loved every inch of that space. So much of her life had been lived in it. And now this...

She put on jeans and a red sweater. Red...her first impulse was to take it off and choose another one, but weariness won over repulsion. The sweater stayed on.

Now that she had nothing more to do, her mind was free to wander. To dark and scary places. Flashes of vivid images stormed through her brain, making the blood rush to her cheeks. She felt deeply ashamed.

Returning to the bathroom, she picked up the black shirt and headed downstairs. Lighting a match with icy fingers, she let the thing catch fire and then threw it into the fireplace. She didn't stay to watch it burn.

Life had to go on as usual, she didn't want any changes. Time would erase everything, she'd soon put it behind her. Oz would help her forget. At the thought of her boyfriend, tears threatened to flood her eyes. But she didn't cry.

Moving towards the desk in her room, she took out some papers from a drawer. Maths homework. She then started to work mechanically until she could work no more. The pen dropped from her fingers and she got up. Heading towards the bed, she slipped under the covers, not bothering to put on her pyjamas. She lied awake for a long time in a state of semi-consciousness, voices shrieking inside her brain. At dawn, she fell asleep.


III.


She slept for three hours until her alarm-clock went off. Her hand shot out and pressed a switch. Silence was hers. Nine o'clock. She had missed first period, but she knew it didn't matter. Buffy wouldn't have been there, she usually cut Chemistry to sleep in late. She got up and switched on her bedside lamp. The light fell on something that hadn't been there before. A carved human figure made out of wood stood on her table, body turned towards her. The thing had no face and was on its hands and knees, naked.

"Reminded me of you.", read a note propped against it.


IV.


"Well done, Miss Rosenberg." The name made her wince.

"It's another A. Keep up the good work!" Mr Kramer was beaming down at her like an old Cheshire Cat. She smiled weakly and took the test from his large hand. Another A in Maths. Tears came tumbling down her cheeks, dropping onto the paper. She quickly got up and fled from the room, startling her teacher and classmates. Running down the hall, she burst into the bathroom and paused at the sink. Hysterical sobs filled up her throat and her heart pounded wildly. She blew her nose, washed the tears off her face, then headed back to class, murmuring words of apology to a stunned Mr Kramer.

At lunch-time she saw Xander again. Darting towards her friend, she threw her arms around his neck, holding him tight.

"Willow! Are you OK?!" There was urgency in his tone.

"Yes...I'm fine. Oh God, Xander, I was so..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"I was too. What did he do to you? Did he *hurt* you? I woke up this morning with a *splitting* headache, in the middle of a *fucking* road..." He was grabbing her by the shoulders, the pressure of his fingers hurting her sore skin. She stepped backwards, putting some distance between them.

"He didn't hurt me...", she lied.

"Did you see the son-of-a-*bitch*?" His eyes stared at her, waiting for answers.

"No, I couldn't see him. He put his...*hand* over my eyes and bit me, but I'm *OK*. He didn't take much..." She was tired of lying. All she wanted now was to get away from her best friend. Looking up at his face, she saw a purple bruise on his forehead. Her hand reached out to touch it, but he winced.

"The *fucking* s-"

"Xander, *please* don't say anything to Buffy, OK? Just tell her you got hurt during gym or something...I don't want her asking me questions I don't have the answers to." Her eyes strayed away from his face and settled on one of the trees near the entrance.

"Willow, we have to-"

"No...Xander, *please*! I'm *begging* you! If you're my friend, don't tell her anything. I want to forget this ever *happened*! I *don't*-" Her voice choked on the words.

"Willow...it's OK. I won't tell her. It's gonna be alright, honey..." He put his arms around his best friend, gently stroking her hair.


V.


She could feel his presence wherever she went. In the library, at home, at the Bronze, on the streets...his gaze on her, watching her every move, listening to every word. It made her feel like screaming. < LEAVE ME *ALONE*!!! > But she couldn't do anything, she didn't dare to. The thought that he might come near her again made her sick.

She was trying to move on, make life appear normal. But she knew it was all a sham. Her freedom was gone and he held it in his hands. He had taken over her life so completely as to make her feel she didn't have a mind or a body of her own. She floated through the days like a lost soul... Oz had left with the band, promising to call every day and send pictures and his departure had broken what was left of her heart. Work was the only thing keeping her alive and she was grateful to have plenty of it keeping her busy. She hadn't touched her computer in days. Answering e-mails wasn't an option.

Buffy had eventually come over for an all-girls' night, but Willow hadn't felt up to watching Jennifer Aniston in a comedy. She sat on the couch and listened to her friend's anxious words of comfort.

"Willow, Oz's gonna come back. It's not like he's moved to another *planet*!"

"I know that, Buffy..." She was so tired of this.

"Then why won't you put on your happy face and come bronzing with me? *Please*...." Her friend's lovely, young face had pleaded with her, melting Willow's resolve.

"OK, Buffy...I'll go." She had tried to sound cheerful.

"Great! Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, A-bronzing we will go, ladidadida, ladidadida!" Her singing was terrible. For the first time in weeks, a real smile lit up Willow's face.


VI.


It was cold outside. Summer was gone and the dress she was wearing wasn't keeping her warm. She had caught up her hair in a French twist under Buffy's eager supervision. Her neck was exposed.

She shivered and walked faster. Buffy was talking non-stop, excitedly updating her on the latest gossip concerning two jocks and a certain cheerleader.

"Not Cordy?" Willow had asked, staring at her friend.

"Of course it's not Cordy, you goose! Come on, her flirting days are so *over*! She's more into broom-closets nowadays."

"No, no, not anymore.They're both pretty much *out* of the closet now." This had made Buffy giggle.

They reached the Bronze and entered. The place was packed. They could barely move through the forest of sweaty arms and legs. To Willow, it seemed like the walls were closing in on her. She breathed in the smoky air, almost choking on it.

"Come on, Will, let's find Xander." Buffy yelled in her ears.

"Look no further. He's on the dance floor with Cordy, do you see them?"

"Oh yeah, I see them. Those wacky lovebirds." There was a woeful note in Buffy's voice. She was thinking about Angel.

Willow put an arm around her friend's waist and smiled at her. Her own comforting skills were very rusty these days.


VII.


The partying went on and on. Buffy was on the dance-floor, letting the music soothe her pain away. Willow loved watching her friend dance. Buffy moved beautifully, hair glistening under the lights, making her look like an angel.

Willow's eyes settled on Xander's face. He was lovingly gazing at Buffy, moving clumsily next to her. Cordelia completed the trio, but there was nothing angelic about her tonight. She frowned at Xander's ungainly choreography and rolled her eyes when he tried to get her to join them.

Suddenly a hand gripped Willow's wrist. She turned around quickly, eyes darting upwards. The vampire. Blood drained out of her face, rushing to her head. She tried to wrench her wrist from his grasp.

"Don't even try it.", he whispered into her ear. She froze.

"Please..." Tears swayed on her eyelashes.

"Let's go." He pulled at her wrist, leading her towards an exit at the back.

"BUF-" the word was cut short by a violent shove that sent her flying out the door. She crashed on the ground, hurting herself. Her face was wet with tears. The alley was deserted. < Probably drained them all. >

"Get up." She obeyed. He grabbed her by an arm and led her away from the building. Her right hand frantically tried to hide her purse in the dress. He was walking fast, almost running and she couldn't keep up with him. She stumbled and almost fell. He sighed in frustration, then dragged her onwards. When they reached their destination, both her heels had broken and one of her ankles ached violently.

He kicked in a door and shoved her through it. Complete darkness once again.


VIII.


Her eyes opened wide in an effort to see her surroundings. Nothing. He was there somewhere, but she couldn't see him. < Having fun, no doubt. >. Her purse wouldn't open and she almost ripped the fabric with her terrified pulling. < Come on , come on, *PLEASE*....! > Her heart screamed at the thing, begging it to cooperate. It finally opened and she took her stake out. She wielded it in front of her, trembling from head to foot. She could almost hear him laughing at her.

"So you brought a weapon this time." His tone of amusement made her grip the stake harder. "I have this thing for weapons..."

"Don't come *near* me! GET *AWAY* FROM ME!!!", she screamed at him.

"Give me one good reason why I should." He was totally unconcerned. She could feel him coming closer.

"*PLEASE*!!!....oh dear *God*....please..." She was sobbing her heart out now.

"Don't cry..." He sounded like someone's older brother.

"I-I'll s-stake y-you..." Her voice trailed off as a hand reached for her head and pulled at the clip that held her hair in place. It came tumbling down her back.

"That's better." There was pleasure in his voice. Her left hand moved to her hair, shakily freeing her face from its strands. The stake wavered on the right hand.

"D-don't...please...", she whispered, almost on her knees.

"Don't what, pet?" The term had her turning on her heel and blindly slamming against the door. Pain flooded her body, as bones hit steel. She felt as if she was being beaten to a pulp.

"That wasn't smart, was it?" Spike was no longer amused. Grimness crept into his voice.

"No....?", she answered, too shaken to consider her words, head spinning wildly.

"You won't need this." The stake went flying into the darkness and her hand dropped at her side. She leaned against the door and slid onto the floor. It was made of concrete. < What a surprise... > She closed her eyes, pretending it was all a dream.


IX.


Arms were picking her up. She was being carried somewhere. Then dropped onto a mattress. < Again.> She tried to crawl off it, but a foot pushed her back.

"*Don't* do that." He seemed ready to get very angry, she could hear it in his voice.

" Now...let's play." The sentence had her on her hands and knees, desperately trying to get away. Hands shot out and clutched her legs, dragging her onto the mattress. Her arms hit wildly at him, clawing at the leather. This made him chuckle.

"Come *on*, love...", he sighed in mock-exasperation.

Both her wrists were trapped in one of his and swiftly tied with a rope. Her dress was suddenly being torn to pieces with calculated sweeps of the switchblade. Her bra and panties suffered the same treatment. History was repeating itself. < I can't do a thing... > Her mind had ceased telling her what to do. It buried itself inside her head, moaning faintly.

His lips on hers startled her. They demanded a response that she was not willing to give. His tongue pierced her mouth and plunged inside it, flicking at its roof. His hands roamed all over her, letting the fingernails graze her skin.

At some point she felt his cock between her legs. But before it slammed into her, Spike morphed into his real form and bit into her throat. The familiar feeling of lightness invaded her being. His hand was holding her head in place, fingers digging into her skull. He took longer this time. She could almost feel her heart shrinking like a crushed can. When he was finished, there was no air in her lungs. Once again he shook her roughly until she opened her eyes, then began thrusting forcefully into her, kissing her face and neck. Gelid fingers touched her breast, making her shiver. He was whispering something but she couldn't register what. One last plunge and he was through. She was worn-out, he was ecastatic. Lack of blood made thinking impossible and the cold was making her tremble.

"Oh pet, that was actually *nice*." She tried to avert her face, but his hand caught her chin and kept her from doing so. His mouth took hers in an urgent, almost sensuous kiss that lasted longer than her lungs could stand. She tore her lips away from his and gasped for air. Spike didn't seem upset. His mouth nibbled on her ear instead.


X.


A bandaid, some adhesive tape and another shirt. Red, this time. Spike used the blade to release her hands and helped her get the shirt on. Her skin felt as frozen as ice from a glazier and her body trembled as much with cold as with shock. He cut four pieces of tape with his teeth and held the bandaid over the wound on her throat, letting his fingers rest on it.

"Hm...that should do it. Leave it on for a few days." She felt like laughing hysterically. < What *is* this, a doctor's appointment?! > But she remained still.

"Pet, if you don't start reacting a little quicker, I'll prick you with a pin." He was completely in earnest.

Helping her to get up, he placed her arms around his neck and picked her up, whistling again. She had been hearing that tune inside her head for weeks now. It constantly mocked her.

"Did you like what I left for you?" His eyebrows shot upwards questioningly. She didn't have the courage to ignore his question.

"Yes....it was fine.", she whispered tiredly.

This made him smile quizzically and kiss her.

As they stepped outside, she could hear the birds singing.


THE END