An Honest Kind Of Love
The things she did for him, Spike could hardly get his head around it even when he was indulging in it. This was the last thing he had expected when he picked her up out of the gutter.
He had sensed the darkness clinging to her and he had known instantly that something was wrong with her; he hadn't expected it to be magic withdrawal. Her friends, her girl had turned their backs on her so far as he could tell. She used too much magic, she hadn't just stared down into the abyss she had jumped in feet first and Spike knew her little friends couldn't handle that. Not when it came to her. Willow was up on a pedestal and when she fell she fell hard.
He hadn't felt right just leaving her there, her pain and misery was like a beacon calling to him and any other demon who happened to cross paths with her. He might as well indulge in it as some other demon.
She hadn't wanted to return home so he had taken her to his crypt where she could hide and wallow in her anguish and despair and he could bask in it too.
"They don't understand you, love. They don't want you to be who you are 'cos your power scares 'em."
Spike really hadn't expected what came next. He had been hoping to keep her in her miserable depressing state but she had taken him by surprise looking at him with watery green eyes she had said, "You understand me, don't you, Spike? Your power scares them too. They don't want you to be who you are either."
And she had kissed him!
They understood each other. She appreciated and enjoyed the darkness in him and he didn't try to banish the darkness in her. In fact, Spike liked to touch the darkness in her as often as possible, when she tapped into it she latched on to the darkness in him too and it was then they discovered that her magic could block the chip; not for long, but for long enough.
That was how he had arrived at this particular moment; standing at the foot of his bed gazing down at Willow's bound and naked body her soft, pale skin coloured with purple and green and yellow finger marks, her wrists rubbed red raw from the chains he kept her in.
She was magnificent to him like this; completely at his mercy. The magic her friends criticized and feared was the very thing that freed him to use her body as his canvas and create a beautiful masterpiece with the kind of pain that made her cry out in exquisite ecstasy.
His torture of her was slow and deliberate, the kind that brought forth sheer pleasure and the sweetest pain until tears came to her eyes and all she could do was look at him beseechingly and beg. Although what she was begging for she didn't know, only Spike knew the answer to that; she begged for him.
She begged for the sensation of his cool hands travelling over her flesh. She begged for the pure pleasure that chased away the perfect pain. She begged for the absolute agony that melted into blissful rapture. She begged for the thrill of his fangs piercing her flesh and the first pull of his mouth on that wound drawing her life's essence from her shaking body into his own. And, she begged to be wanted, to be needed, to be loved; Spike knew all that she begged for and he gave it to her so willingly.
He had his own little instruments of torture lying about the place but Spike had been without the ability to inflict pain for so long that his hands did most of the work. The cuts and scrapes and bruises that littered her body told the story of their love making.
When she screamed for him Spike was in heaven.
When she called his name Spike was in nirvana
When she welcomed him into her body Spike was in paradise.
He hurt her deliberately, that was the gift she gave him; wanting it, needing it, waiting for it.
She was trembling, the metal links of the chains clanking noisily together, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. Spike looked her over again, his sweet, darling girl. His lovely Willow. There was a bite mark on her breast and one at her groin, that one was spotted with blood he noticed and Spike leant forward pushing her quivering thighs further apart and sweept his tongue along the mark.
Willow moaned softly, her body straining towards him searching for more. She was always searching for more and it made his heart clench in response.
"Easy now, love." Spike was always conscious that she was human, that she was fragile and could only take so much at once, but he did enjoy pushing her boundaries taking her that little bit further each time. But he knew when enough was enough.
"Spike?" she whispered licking dry lips, her eyes blazing as her lashes fluttered open.
"Don't wanna hurt you, pet."
It might seem like a ridiculous thing to say to the woman who was currently chained in his bed, the woman he had spent all night introducing to one form or torture or another and who would be sore and aching for days to come; but she knew what he meant. The last thing Spike wanted was to cause any lasting damage.
Carefully he unlocked her cuffs. She could get out of them so easily if she wished to with the magical powers she possessed, but when they were together like this she chose instead to concentrate all her magic on him, on the chip, to stop it firing off into this brain. She was looking for a way to deactivate it completely but she hadn't found the right spell yet. The last thing Willow wanted to do was cause any lasting damage.
Bringing her chafed wrists to his mouth Spike kissed the raw skin gently and she whimpered softly drawing her body up to curl into his.
If her friends found out about their relationship they would look at her in shock and disgust, they would say it was wrong, it was vile, it was sick and unhealthy. They would say it was shagging, it was sex, it had nothing to do with love; Spike knew differently.
Willow knew him for what he was, his true face, the face of the demon stirred her as much as his human face. His fangs excited her as much as his hands did. His words of loved aroused her as much as the filth he whispered into her ear. The hard driving force of his hips made her scream as much as the soft, slow rhythm he adopted. All because she accepted him for who he was and didn't expect him to be any more or any less than what he was.
He was there for her, he helped her deal with the magic withdrawal and the cold shoulder from her friends. He held her when she needed it and whispered words of love and encouragement when she thought she wouldn't be able to get through the day. Willow was a witch and Spike supported that aspect of her, he accepted her magic failings and all, she was allowed to make mistakes with him. He didn't expect her to be any more or any less than what she was.
They complimented each other and completed each other and Spike was happy. The fact that he made her happy, well, that made him delirious.
Willow saw him, the real him. She saw the softness in him that he had only shown to Drusilla and she saw the darkness in him which she fully embraced. She had given him so much and she made him feel like a real demon again just as he made her feel human again.
He loved her. She loved him. They loved each other; darkness, light, demon, human, witch, vampire, pleasure and pain it was all one to them. When they were together they were simply Spike and Willow.
How could that not be the most honest kind of love.