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 8


Spike stalked the streets of New York, oblivious to anything around him. He could sense his Sire's presence somewhere out there, but had yet to pinpoint his location. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by a gang of vamps. He pinned them all with his murderous gaze and growled, and they scattered as he swept past. The hissed "That was Spike!", "Willow can't be far behind," and "Let's get out of here," that he left in his wake didn't reach his ears. He was more angry than he could ever remember being. More angry than when Angelus had become Angel and abandoned them, more angry than when he'd stolen Druscilla, more angry than when he'd become chipped. Willow had never wanted to be a vampire. She'd made than clear to him years ago.


(Thirteen years ago--Ireland)


Willow squealed with glee as the colors whirling before her cleared to form a window in mid-air. Through it she could see another clearing almost a mile away, where Tadgh was peacefully writing in his journal.

"Oooh, Spike! Look!"

He stepped up to her side, peering at the result of the incantation.

"I did it! I can't believe it!"

He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed affectionately. "I knew you could do it, luv."

As Maeve came to stand on her other side Willow straightened, trying to compose herself. Pike could still see the happiness below the surface, shining through her eyes, waiting to break through. She looked up at her teacher hesitantly, a worry line marring her smooth brow. Maeve was an imposing woman who even managed to intimidate Spike a time or two. Right now she was staring down at Willow, her blue eyes, aquiline nose and generous mouth giving away no emotion. Then her face softened, lips curving into a smile. She waved her hand in front of the window and it dissolved.

"Very good, Willow. You have passed the first test."

Unable to contain her enthusiasm, she jumped up and hugged her mentor, then turned her vise-like grip on Spike. He tried to find some purchase on the grass but lost his balance anyway. He landed on his butt, Willow sprawled on top of him, still laughing. He couldn't stop the grin from spreading over his face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so happy, so alive.

"You have the rest of the night off in reward, Willow. We'll resume your training tomorrow."

Willow was up in a flash, tugging Spike off the ground. "Thanks Maeve. C'mon Spike. Time to celebrate!"

She dragged him to the nearest pub, which was still quite a ways, and demanded dancing music. He felt silly at first, swinging wildly around the floor while the rest of the patrons stared at them with amusement. With the traditional Irish good spirit, everyone eventually joined in and turned the pub into a raucous dance hall. Willow got drunk and kept moving the furniture around, much to the chagrin of anyone who absently went to sit down only to find themselves flat on their back. When Spike began to feel himself getting dizzy he knew it was time to go.

He hefted her over his shoulder and left to a roomful of hearty goodbyes. Willow wouldn't stop giggling and demanding to be put down. Her slurred, "I'll turn you into a toad, you big mean vampire," had no effect, so she resorted to playing dirty. She pinched his ass hard enough to leave a bruise.

Spike yelled out, almost dropping her. She wiggled out of his grasp and shuffled away as fast as she could. "I'll get you for that, Red. Wasn't very nice." He caught up to her quickly, but not without a few stumbles of his own. After all, he was pretty buzzed. He grabbed her around the waist, dragging her to the soft ground while he tickled her mercilessly.

"Spike! Spike stop! I swear, I'll--ah!" Soon she was gasping for breath, tears running down her cheeks. His fingers stopped their torture, but he remained hovering over her. He dug his fingers into the damp earth to resist the urge to lower himself, press his body against the length of hers. The fact that she was flushed and panting and looking like she'd just been thourougly fucked did nothing to get his mind off the idea of sex. The warmth was coming off her body in waves, heating his cool skin. He stared down at her, at her lips that were glistening and parted, just begging to be kissed. Blood was the farthest thing from his mind, especially since it was all rushing from his brain to his cock. As evil as he was reputed to be, he still couldn't bring himself to take advantage of her drunken state.

Willow made a motion with her hands and a small ball of light appeared in her palm. She brought it up to their faces.

"Can't see you're face. Whatcha thinking?"

He may not have let himself take advantage of her, but that certainly didn't stop him from teasing. "I was thinking that for that little stunt you pulled back there, you deserve a good spanking. Tit for tat."

Her eyes widened in surprise. Years later she was to confirm that the spark that suddenly appeared in her green eyes was raging lust, but not knowing her well enough, he thought it might be fear. He smirked and rolled away to lay beside her. "Just teasing, luv. You might turn me into a pig or something."

"To late for that, don't you think?" He made a motion to tickle her again, but she rolled away. "Sorry. Truce! Truce!"

"Fine. Truce."

She eyed him warily but crawled back beside him anyway. Her hand went to her forehead. "Ooh, Spike. Everything's all spinny."

He snaked his hand around behind her back without her notice. "That's because you're sloshed, luv. Concentrate on something else. Get your mind off it."

"And how am I supposed to do--OW!" she screeched, tumbling away. He couldn't help but laugh at the pouty expression on her face as she rubbed her bottom.

"You pinched me," she said, sticking out her lower lip. "We had a truce."

"All's fair in love and war, pet. After all, I am a big mean vampire." He crossed his arms behind his head and stretched out leisurely on the grass. In his fantasies they were like this, rolling around in a secluded clearing. Sometimes he would let Willow win the wrestling match, and she'd be straddling his hips, leaning down to press her soft lips against his. Sometimes he would pin Willow beneath him, undulating and wanton she would throw back her head and say . . .

"Bite me, Spike."

Not realizing they'd been closed, he opened his eyes and focused on Willow. She was smirking at him, fingering the collar of her shirt, and he wondered if his dreams were about to come true. He shifted so she wouldn't notice his burgeoning erection and smirked back at her.

"Not the wisest thing to say to a vampire."

"Not saying it to the wisest vampire," she slurred. Before he could retaliate he noticed an evil gleam in her eyes. "You're lucky that I like you, Spike. I could just use my magic, and . . ."

"And what? Float me in the air like a pencil?" So the little witch had some bite in her after all. This could be interesting.

"I could!"

"I'm sure you could do much better."

Instead of a compliment, she took it as a challenge. "You know, I've been reading ahead. I know a lot more than what Maeve has taught me." Her face scrunched up as she tried to concentrate through the alcoholic haze.

"I could turn you into a fuzzy bunny. A fuzzy bunny with cute little bunny fangs! But then you'd go around biting other bunnies. That's no good. Could I have a bunny, Spike? One with those big floppy ears? I'd call him Spike Junior 'cause he'd be cute just like you." She giggled, sprawling to the ground a few feet away.

Spike snorted. "Not cute." Babies were cute, and fuzzy bunnies. But he was a big bad vampire. He was dangerous, and evil, and manly, and powerful, and--

Before he could react, Willow's weight had settled on top of him, her thighs pressed against his ribcage. The swiftness of her movement made him wonder just how drunk she really was. She placed her hands flat on his chest.

"Aww. Look at the wittle Spikey. He's so cuuuuuuuute!" With each word she leaned closer to him, and he had to fight the urge to grab her hands and put them where he really wanted them. On his painfully hard cock. When her face was just inches away, she rubbed her nose against his, and then started to giggle drunkenly again. She swayed to the side, but Spike grabbed her hips, holding her firmly in place.

Despite the fact that it took all his will power to keep his hands from straying up her torso to the firm breasts she was practically pushing in his face, he sighed and said, "Better get you home, luv."

She moved her hands up to his shoulders and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck. "I am home."

He immediately stiffened. If she meant what he thought she did . . . Emotions rushed through him. Doubt, hope, wonder at the trust she placed in him, confusion, love. He groaned to himself. Falling for a human again. Don't get your hopes too high mate, remember what happenned the last time.

"You want to stay in Ireland, then?"

She was looking at him again, green eyes practically glowing in the faint moonlight. She suddenly looked every bit the powerful wiccan goddess that she was destined to be.

"That's not what I meant, Spike."

Are you sure you're drunk? is what he wanted to ask, but it seemed inappropriate for the suddenly serious mood. Instead he said, "Then you better explain, luv."

The illusion of power rippled and disappeared as her lower lip trembled. "I don't want to be alone."

Spike brushed an errant strand of hair from her face and frowned. Who was going to be alone? He sure as hell wasn't going anywhere. Especially after having a taste of her delectable body pressed so intimately against his. And if she knew what he was thinking about at this very moment she'd turn him into one of those fang-bunnies she was mumbling about earlier. The alcohol was clouding his brain, derailing his train of thought. She must have sensed it, because she repeated herself.

"I don't want to be alone, Spike." Then she added, "Ever."

The gravity of her statement sunk in, and it was such a shock that he jerked upright, sending her sprawling to the ground. Fantasies of licking every inch of her skin were suddenly forgotten. He wouldn't do it. He couldn't. He wanted Willow with her soul, her warmth, her clinging innocence. He wanted to hear the reassuring thud of her heart in her chest, feel her breath against his face.

"I won't turn you," he insisted bluntly.

She made a face. "I don't want to be a vampire. No offence."

"Well then how . . . Pet, I'm completely lost here."

"Well, you know how I said I had been reading ahead? I got ahold of an old Watcher's Diary, and . . . I have a little favor to ask."




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