Challenge

Pairing: Spike/Willow

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Willow's patrolling alone in the graveyard, and Spike finds her.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. But if I did, I'd be a very happy person, and there wouldn't be much room in my closet for clothes anymore…

Willow stalked through the graveyard, stake in hand, glancing around every few seconds. She was jumpy from adrenaline, loving that she was patrolling on her own tonight, and happy that she avoided catching the bug that all the other Scoobies had come down with that week. She continued to walk round for the next hour, getting sufficiently bored when nothing popped out at her. Her fingers itched for the headphones in her pocket.

She glanced around, shifty-eyed, and pulled out her MP3 player, putting the headphones to her ears.

She was halfway through the first song when something grabbed her by the waist, and spun her around. The flash of platinum gave away her captor before she could even register his face.

"Spike!" She struggles out the word as she tried to back up, finding herself pulled up against him quite effectively.

"Evenin', Red." He smirked, and laxed his grip a bit, taking one arm away to take a drag on the cigarette he was holding.

"What do you want, Spike, I don't have time for this."

"What, no time to do anything that Blondie and your nanny don't tell you to do?" He smirked again, and she itched to smack the look off of his face. "C'mon Red. You've become their little lapdog. Rebel! Show some initiative."

"Let me go, and I'll consider it." She responded, giving him a glare so cold that he almost dropped his cigarette. Almost. Then his grip relaxed even more, allowing her to turn and walk away.

She did so, flipping her hair back in indignation. But she hadn't gone more than three steps before she heard his voice once more. "Red…"

His apologetic tone and a soft touch on her shoulder made her turn around. "Please, I mean…" he seemed to be fumbling for words, staring at the ground. "Look, I'm all alone in this crypt, and I'd really like company every now and them, and well I'm sorry I'm a right idiot. Can I take you in for a drink?"

A short time later, Willow was walking around the crypt, examining her surroundings with quiet interest while Spike bustled about looking for a bottle of anything that wasn't empty. She came across a shelf of books along one wall, lined with dust, leatherbound tomes… and one red, spiral bound, ratty looking notebook with tattered edges.

Glancing behind her to make sure Spike wasn't looking, she picked up the notebook, turning to a random page.

As if it were a reflex, Spike was snatching the notebook and stowing it on the top shelf before Willow could read so much as one hand-scrawled word.

"Poetry." She said. It wasn't as much an accusation or statement as a question.

Spike looked lightly ashamed. "Well, you know, always have written and all that…" he mumbled, then stared at the floor a moment. Then he seemed to remember what was going on and looked back up. "Right, so, the drinks." He said, raising a bottle in his hand.

As Willow started into her second glass of Bacardi, she was getting more and more comfortable in Spike's home. Sitting on the couch, she was looking quietly around as the light from the near-silent television sent a bluish haze out across the room, nd the ever-flickering bulb in the ceiling battled to illuminate the dinge where the television could not.

"So." Spike said, breaking the not-quite-awkward silence that had built between them since he'd poured the drinks. "What are you doing patrolling all on your lonesome? And so inattentive at that?" he smirked once again.

"Oh, would you wipe that arrogant look off your face already?" Willow glared. "Everyone's sick. So I get to tread around Lone Ranger style 'til the bug goes its course through everyone else." She looked at him carefully. "Why were you out in the graveyard? Looking for poor little bunnies to scared or something?"

"No." he said blankly, then considered. "Well, yeah, that too. But I was mostly just bored. Nothing good on at this hour, even MTV is playin' crap…"

"So you were out there because reality TV has its limits, even on your addled brain?" Willow grinned.

"That smirk isn't looking so bad on you as it apparently does on me, Red." Spike said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, well, that's because I can pull it off without resorting to being a stupid prat." She giggled then, catching her slip into English dialect. Spike caught it as well, and cracked a genuine smile.

"Are you making fun of me?" he laughed, leaning on his knees in towards the center of the couch, closer to the young witch.

"Yeah, well, you make it so easy and all." She grinned, looking him in the eyes. "You know, I would think you'd be a lot meaner, even one-on-one like this." She said seriously.

"Yeah? Well… surprise." He said gently, and leaned in further, turning her head gently and bringing his lips to hers, just for a moment, then letting her pull back.

"Um… I'll just... I mean, uh... More drinks?" He reached for the bottle. Willow caught his arm.

"No… wait… Come here." She said, bringing her mouth to his, more surely than he had before, and sliding into his lap.

Her eyes fell closed against his cheek as he groaned softly, opening his mouth to her.

After a few minutes, his hand tangled in her hair and she broke away for a second. "Red…" his gaze flickered from her eyes, down to her lips, and back again. "Listen, don't think you have to, because-"

"No." she cut him off, smiling. "Don't mess it up with words. This feels right. That's all there is to it." She took his mouth again, and dragged him unceremoniously towards the bed.

Spike woke up a few hours later, with Willow in his arms and the ratty old teddy bear he'd found lonely beside a grave under his shoulder. He smiled as Willow opened her eyes, feeling him shift beside her.

"Morning." He said softly.

"Same to you." She smiled, snuggling further into his chest.

"You're so warm." He sighed, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Just then, a buzzing noise caught their attention across the room. Realizing that ir was her cell phone, still in her pants pocket, Willow went over to pick it up.

"What is it?" Spike asked, sitting up on the bed.

"Text message… From Jared, at school. Uh... project we have to do. And, well, you know…" She explained quickly as she threw clothes on, ad grabbed her things. I'll call you." She said, kissing his cheek.

And just as fast as she's come into his life last night, she was gone.