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 3


"Willow, luv, do you want to talk?"

"About what?"

Spike shrugged his shoulders. It had been a quiet evening all around. They'd dusted a couple vamps with calm efficiency, and Willow hadn't said more than two words to him. If he thought about it, they hadn't spoken much since the night of the party. Not for lack of trying on his part, that was for sure. She'd been subdued and withdrawn for the past two days, and nothing could bring her out of it. Not the new spellbook, not the daggers they'd picked off that Morling demon last night. And not his gentle touches and verbal cues. She was pulling away as she always did after they made love, chagrined that she'd let herself get so out of control. After only a handful of times over the past fifteen years, the tiny rejection still felt like a knife to the gut. Normally everything would be status quo after a day or so, and he'd have his charming, brilliant, dedicated, beautiful Willow back.

This time was different. He knew it had something to do with Angel. When he spotted his Sire dancing with Willow at the party, he was sure Angel would sweep her into his arms and run off, and Spike would never see her again. Never see either of them again. He'd resigned himself to the fact that Willow would leave him one day. Apart from the occasional shag they'd never gotten past the friendship bit, and after all these years it was doubtful they ever would. He told himself that the only reason she stayed was because of the bond--even if she wasn't in love with him, the bond still joined their bodies and minds. One day she'd find what she was looking for and she would leave him.

He wondered if she'd found it in Angel. Maybe she was trying to figure out how to tell him she was leaving.

"About what? How about what's going on in that bleedin' head of yours?"

"I'm going to see Angel tomorrow."

There. That was it. His shoulders sagged, as if the ton of bricks hovering over his head for so long had finally fallen. He knew she had no obligation to stay with him. She deserved to be with someone she truly loved, someone who made her happy. That didn't make it hurt any less. He loved her, was bonded to her, wanted to spend the rest of his unlife with her. The sudden pain was too much for him to take. He hadn't felt this bad since Druscilla died. Like a little piece of himself had just been torn away.

"I guess that's it then, luv. If you don't mind, I'm going to head home." He didn't wait to see if she had anything else to say, if she looked back at him. He just kept walking, hoping that he didn't burst into tears on the sidewalk like a bloody nancyboy.


(Fifteen years ago)


The town was chaos, awash with demons, some of which he'd never seen before. Literally, Hell on Earth. He found her in the middle of the street beating on some monster using a mace that was twice as big as her head. The demon was beyond dead--it was an unrecognizable, pulpy mess. She kept smashing the weapon over its body, wielded with a strength born of fury.

"Red!" he yelled. None of the other demons and vampires running about had noticed her yet, but that wouldn't last for long. "Red!"

He grabbed her arm, then ducked and fell on his ass as she took a swing that would have knocked his head from his shoulders. She towered over him, mace held high. She was going to kill him. The tiny bookish witch was going to bash his bloody skull in.

"Willow! Snap out of it!" She hesitated as he said her name, and recognition flashed in her eyes. The next thing he knew, she was back at her previous victim. All that was left of him was a large splatter on the center line. She sobbed, bringing the mace down again and again until she was covered in blood and entrails. His warnings and threats went unheeded, and his own nervousness increased as a few demons began sniffing towards them.

"Willow, we have to get out of here now!" She wouldn't stop her beating, so he grabbed the mace with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around her, hefting her over his shoulder. Vampire after vampire fell prey to the lethal swing of the mace as he cleared a path for their escape. When it looked safe enough he tossed the weapon away and held onto Willow with both arms so he could run faster. That was when she began to struggle.

"Xander!" she yelled. "Have to save Xander! And Buffy! Where's Giles?"

"They're dead," he said bluntly. She should know. She'd seen it with her own eyes.

"Buffy! Get to Giles! Have to...." Her sobs and cries dwindled into meaningless babble as her wiggling abated. By the time they'd reached the town limits, her words became more coherent. "All dead," she chanted. "All dead. All dead. Alldeadalldeadalldeadalldead."

After that she went into shellshock--wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't talk, wouldn't move on her own. Angel emerged from the rubble that was Sunnydale shortly after to see that they were okay. He urged Spike to take Willow to LA, but neither Cordelia, Wesley, nor Gunn could do anything for her. It wasn't until the chaos of the Hellmouth began to spread outward before she came around. But she was hollow, broken inside. She wouldn't step outside the building, not even in the middle of the day. When the battle in LA started in earnest, Angel came back, loaded Spike with money, food, and supplies, and shoved Willow into his arms.

"Take her," he said. It was not a suggestion, but a Sire commanding his Childe. "Take her away from here. Keep her safe. Help her heal."

Without a backward glance Spike ran as far away as he could from the Hellmouth. Every once and awhile the Willow he knew would peek through, but it came alongside glimpses of something new, something hard. By the time they reached Ireland she was back in her right mind, and Spike was madly in love. He vowed to her that as long as he walked the earth she would be safe. He hadn't realized then just how seriously she'd taken his promise to heart.


(Present)


Willow watched Spike's retreating back. 'I wonder what that was all about?' Their link through the bond allowed her to sense his emotions, but they were so jumbled up she couldn't make sense of them. The ability faded with distance, and he was already blocks away from her. He seemed upset, but she wasn't sure why. It could have been Angel, but from the look in his eye the other night he'd been anything but angry with his Sire. It must have been her post-sex guilt trip that irked him. And she couldn't blame him. In his shoes she'd feel the same way. She didn't have the words to explain to him the way she felt. Hell, she didn't have the words to explain it to herself.

She loved him. How could you not love a man who had saved you from Hell and certain insanity and then pledged his life to you? He was her constant companion, her best friend. He'd taught her to fight, been her shoulder to cry on when memories of Sunnydale became too much. He was always there for her and she had done nothing to deserve it.

That was why the sex always bothered her afterwards. She didn't want to feel like she was doing it in return for everything he had done for her. He never made her feel that way, never made her think that was the case. That night in Ireland was what started it all.

The bonding ritual required that blood be exchanged during intercourse--specifically, during climax. With sex, he could give her immortality. And so sex and obligation had become hopelessly intertwined in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't separate them. After fifteen years she didn't know if they could be separated. As much as she thought she loved him, she always had to wonder where her attraction came from. True love, or a sense of duty?

She wanted it to be true love so terribly that it made her ache all the way to her toenails. The bond never felt so strong as when they were laying in each others arms, skin against skin, lips against lips. How many times had she let that happen? Two nights ago would have made eight. Eight times in fifteen years. And not a single lover in between. Her superior brainpower went into overdrive: that was .53 times per year. And every encounter was etched permanently in her memory, replete with sounds, smells, tastes, and sensations. A private pornography collection that would have been well worn out had it been on VHS.

And now, to top it all off, Angel was thrown in the mix. How did she feel about him? And where did that put her feelings for Spike? She would never leave him, but neither could she resist the pull that Angel had on her. It was all she could think about, and after two days she wasn't any closer to an answer. By going to see Angel tomorrow she could kill two demons with one sword: get the inside scoop on Angel's New York team, and maybe find out where she stood with Angel himself. She no longer had the patience to sit around and think so much. After years with an overactive vampire, she wasn't the bookish Research Girl she had once been.




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