Title: Sweet Hereafter
Author: Eve
Email: alfa_fighter_3@hotmail.com
Pairing: W/A/S
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all characters from BtVS and A:tS, the rest are mine.
Author's Notes: In my world, there was no Tara, no Glory, and Angel has been in love with Willow since she brought him back from Hell
Feedback: Writers need feedback like mere mortals need air. :-P
Summary: Fifteen years after the opening of the Hellmouth, Willow, Spike, and Angel meet again

Chapter 16


Angel didn't look back as he left the hotel. Not when the desk clerk tried to tell him he had some messages, not when he realized he didn't have his wallet with him, and not when he bumped into a woman on the sidewalk, scattering her newly purchased groceries.

Willow wanted him.

But she wanted Spike more.

Five minutes later he had dusted a minion lurking in the alley behind a popular club. Ten minutes after that he was brushing more dust off his shirt. When the third vampire attacked he drained it dry and watched it disintegrate in his hands. These unskilled vamps were no match for his focused anger. He needed more of a challenge. He headed off toward the demon district.

Willow didn't know how long she sat on the end of the bed staring at the empty doorway. It was no longer a question of who she wanted more. The question was, how was she going to keep them both? Would she even be able to? Or would she have to choose? How did you choose between the man you loved since you were sixteen, and the man who'd come to mean everything to you?

There was rustling behind her. And then a hoarse, but still caustic English voice. "I think His Broodiness is rubbing off on you, luv."

She chose to ignore his comment, and twisted to eye him critically. He looked gaunt, dark smudges beneath his eyes. His lip was split and swollen, face marred with cuts and bruises. "You look like shit."

He tried to grin. "Flattery will get you nowhere." He hissed as he tried to sit up.

Willow scrambled to the top of the bed and propped him up. "You're going to have to be careful. I think your collarbone is broken. And your shoulder was dislocated."

"'Sides," he continued as if she hadn't said anything. "It's your fault I look like shit."

She got off the bed, letting him fall. His banged the back of his head on the headboard and moaned pitifully. He tried the puppy dog eyes on her, but with his battered face, the look was more deranged than meek. Willow glowered down at him, crossing her arms over her chest. If he thought this was her fault, she wasn't going to give him an ounce of sympathy.

"Willow, luv--"

"Don't 'Willow luv' me! How is it my fault that you almost got yourself killed?"

"Well, I seem to remember some red-headed witch knocking me unconscious."

"And if I hadn't knocked you unconscious you'd be taking up a small space on the mantle right now."

"Bollocks. I had him right where I wanted him."

"Don't lie to me Spike. You won't like the consequences." Immediately, she regretted the harsh words, but she was just so angry. Angry that he'd run out on her. Angry that he'd nearly gotten himself killed. That he'd almost killed Angel. Angry that Angel had stomped out. That she was confused and didn't know what to do.

Spike was looking at her with a curious mix of shock and acquiescence. Emotions not normally found on his face. She could tell he was in pain and trying not to show it. She still couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for him, but it wasn't in her nature to stand by and watch people suffer needlessly.

"Come on," she said, helping him to sit up again. "Let's get you into the bathtub."

"Going to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state?" She rolled her eyes. Even though his heart wasn't really in the sarcasm, he still couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Save it Spike. I'm not in the mood."

"That's not what I smell," he quipped. With some dismay she realized she was still aroused from her encounter with Angel. Out of frustration, she jostled Spike as they entered the master bathroom, then set him down none too gently in a chair.

"Watch it luv. Damaged goods here."

"You'll be a lot more damaged than you care to be if you don't be quiet." Ah. Stupid vampires. Why did they have to be so goddamn obtuse all of the time? Once again she found herself frowning down at the blond vampire. He remained silent, staring down at his lap. She pursed her lips, wanting to jump into his arms and press their mouths together but resisting the urge. He didn't deserve it.

Minutes later the sunken tub was nearly full of steaming water. Willow stripped out of her dirty clothes and knelt between Spike's legs. She was expecting some sort of smart assed comment, but none came. Realizing it would be next to impossible to remove his t-shirt without hurting him, she latched onto a tear in the collar and ripped it in half down the front. With minimal cooperation she managed to untangle it from his body. His socks went over her shoulder and landed somewhere near the garbage can. He still hadn't said anything.

Willow reached for the button on his jeans, glancing up to see the expression on his face. She saw lust flaring in his eyes before he looked away, avoiding her gaze. Through the bond she could sense his turmoil. His goddess was kneeling, naked, at his feet. Every muscle and bone and joint in his body ached. He wasn't entirely sure why she was so angry. He didn't know where the hell they were, but he could smell his Sire. The Sire he'd very nearly killed. And Willow looked like she wanted to gouge his eyes out with hot pokers.

Willow lowered the zipper and tugged his pants past his hips, down his long legs. Maybe she was being a little hard on him. Or maybe this just wasn't the time. Now was the time for taking care of Spike. She could kick his butt later.

Silently, she led him down into the large tub. The water was much too hot for her, but to him it would only be lukewarm. When he was comfortably seated she grabbed a washcloth and began to run it over his skin, mindful of the already fading bruises that dotted his upper body. Angel had certainly gotten his licks in.

She tried to push Angel from her mind as she poured shampoo into her palm and began to massage Spike's scalp. She couldn't avoid the bumps beneath his hair, and felt him stiffen in pain once in awhile. Even then, she felt his erection brush against her hip, and became aware of the fact that her breasts were pressed against his arm. A little pain and a little pleasure equals one vampire aphrodisiac. Her nipples hardened immediately, even though she tried to suppress her own reaction. Just one big walking hormone, that's what you are, she thought to herself.

"Willow?" His voice was soft, serious. She backed away slightly and waited for him to continue. He was looking at her with something akin to wonder. "You're not a vampire."

"So everyone keeps saying," she said, unable to stop the sarcasm from creeping into her voice. His hand snaked up her arm to the side of her face. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her heat reddened cheek.

"But, I thought . . . you--"

She smiled softly. "I know." Willow finally gave in and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was still hesitant to do anything that might anger her, but his own arms finally circled her waist. A feeling of peace stole over her until she felt Spike's lips on her throat. She knew the only way for him to be one hundred percent sure of her humanity was to taste her blood. It was just too soon. She was too weak. And too angry. Willow pulled away, too preoccupied to notice the hurt look in his eyes.




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