"There's Something About Buffy"
Rating: PG-13 (Language)
A/N: Okay, this was just one of those related-to-a-super-odd daydream/musing things I just had. And I sincerely apologize to the author of "Everybody Loves Buffy" cause our titles are so similar. I swear I wrote this before I saw your fic, and I'm hoping mine's entirely different from yours. :) Many kudos to you. Umm..hm..this story takes place directly after Spike's dream about Buffy...lalala...oh yeah, I dedicate this to those who asked of a Willow/Spike story from me. Happy reading! Toodles. :D

Spike bolted up from his slumber, panting from the horror and enticement that his dream had brought him. A human-like shudder ran through his already cold body. Him? In love...or lust...with the Slayer?! Impossible...Oh God, he was turning into Pouf boy Angel himself.
"Like sire like son, " Spike though with rueful humor. He shook himself, then fumbled a shaking hand on the floor next to his bed, searching for his pants. Locating them, he emptied the pockets until he felt a papery aluminum package beneath his fingers. A tiny flare momentarily lit up the crypt as he ignited a cigarette. Harmony rolled over with a moan next to him.
Feeling restless, Spike pulled on his clothes and took a look out the crypt. The autumn dusk was just rolling in. Perfect. Flattening the cigarette with the heel of his boot, he strolled outside, wondering how the world had suddenly gone all weird on him. He thought not about where he was going, just that he had to get away...to think...to ponder... Looking up, he realized that he was nearing the SU campus.
A ways up the street, he spotted Willow. She was walking down his way and if she continued she would meet up with him. He felt a grin itching at the corner of his mouth...some verbal harassment was definitely in order. Spike slinked his way back into the shadows of a tree and waited.
Presently, Willow strolled by, long skirt swishing about her ankles. Spike spied the bag slung over her shoulder, a sharp piece of wood poked out of it. Stake. Dammit, he'd have to be careful on how he approached her. Taking her by too much surprise could be fatal.
"Lovely evenin' for a stroll, ain't it Red?" he voiced, coming out from behind and leaning on the tall oak. His stance was cocky. He smirked seeing her start then reach for a stake, he was a safe distance away. Her hand dropped as she recognized the face and the voice.
"What're you doing here, Spike?" her voice was not angry or annoyed like Buffy's usually was when she saw him, but rather, tired and a bit relieved. Spike frowned at that. Little more than a year ago, his voice would have inspired fear and her running in the opposite direction.
"I own the night, Red," he said, voice even but taunting, "I should be asking what you're doing all alone here at night."
"I can take care of myself, thank you," her voice was tight and clipped now as she reshouldered her bag. Spike heard wood and glass clink. No doubt the 2 stakes, 1 cross and vial of Holy Water he had come to known her to carry at night, "and if you must know why I'm walking, Tara and I broke up...I'm just, you know, thinking."
"Oh that's a pity," he said lightly with about as much emotion as a flower pot.
She sighed a little, wondering why she was telling him, "not really...things weren't working out...we're just not for each other I guess."
He shrugged, trying to act casual but rushing in too fast, "so...uh,you seen Buffy tonight? I'm thinking I'll go see what she's up to..." he realized he was backing himself into a corner. And a lame one at that, "uh....to...see if I can rouse up a fight with her?"
Willow looked at him doubiously, "And you want to get punched in the face, why?"
He scowled at her and tried again, "well...you know, not that I care...just wondrin' where she is..." he shuffled his feet and tried to look like he hadn't. Willows eyes were beginning to take on a curious look at his strange behavior.
"Umm, she's probably in the cemetery with Riley?"
"Riley!" his voice exploded from him and he managed to smother it a bit, "Riley...Mr. Ex commando boy. She could do so much better," his voice was nervous.
"Meaning...?" Willows face contorted in a doubtful yet conclusive expression. Spike though it looked like she was going to sneeze for a moment, "wait...you can't mean..."
"Mean what? Mean nothing. I mean, I mean nothing. I meant-"
"You're in love with Buffy!" Willow spat at him, sitting very hard on the curb as she did so.
"What?!" he tried to laugh but choked on his cigarette, coughing he managed to croak out, "you're insane."
"Don't even lie, Spike...I can see it. I don't believe it...but there it is!" Willow looked on the verge of laughter.
"Okay, look, I don't...I'm not...I just..." a growl of frustration escaped him. He must've gone soft somewhere, he couldn't even lie right anymore, "Look, I had a dream...and...it..it..could be lust. I dunno!" He reached for another cigarette and discovered he was out. Damn.
Willow was laughing hysterically at his stuttering. He glared at her and she struggled to stop, "You're in love with Buffy!" Then she did something that he last expected. She burst into tears.
Spike stared at her for a moment, stunned and utterly perplexed.
"You're in love with Buffy..." She repeated, but this time it was faint and despairing and mixed with tears, long, fat tears that rolled down her pale cheeks forming rivers.
Without realizing what he was doing, he sat next to her.
"What in bloody hell are you crying over?" she didn't answer, just continued to sob, "Willow..."
She looked up, startled, "You called me by my real name...no Red, no...no...you said Willow. But I'm happy you called me Willow..."
Spike groaned inwardly, sensing a string of babble coming on. He quickly cut her off.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he looked away, relieved that at least she'd stopped crying. But now came the aftermath sniffles, he hated them. He kept his eyes away but could still hear the soft sobs.
"All right...what's wrong?" he demanded, but his voice was softer this time.
She wiped her face with her fingers and her lip shook but she turned to face him.
"There's something about Buffy...I mean...it's just...this always happens! I mean, Buffy's my friend and all, and I love her dearly, but everyone ends up falling for her! First it was Xander...God, I'd loved Xander for sooo long. And Ms. Blond Slayer shows up and I'm shoved right out of the picture...not that I really was in the picture to begin with, but at least then I had a ghost of a chance..."
"Yeah, well, who needs the old...oaf...anyway?" Spike said. Willow started to protest, but she realized that was Spike's version of comfort and stopped. A moment passed before she spoke again.
"Do you realize, Oz is the only guy I've ever really had to myself? I mean, Buffy has taken Xander, and she killed Malcolm. Okay, so he was a robot demon, but still...Oh, and Riley? I mean, I'm not meaning to be conceited but I'm pretty darn sure he might've grown interested. It's not that I liked him, but we hit it off, we had...books. I mean, we knew the same books..." she heaved a tired sigh, a heavy expression for such thin shoulders. Spike reached his hand up to place it on them, but stopped, stunned by what he had almost done. Stunned by the fact that he was sitting on the cold pavement next to some girl he wouldn't have given a second thought about killing a year ago, stunned by the face that he was comforting her.
"I am getting soft, " he thought with disgust.
"And of course, there was always you. I don't know why, but I always felt like...well...if you ever ended up with someone from...you know, the mortal world, it would be..." her voice trailed off.
"You?" he asked.
"Kind of," she glanced at him timidly and blinked away fresh tears.
He hesitated, thinking of the times he had tried to well, kill Willow. Had there been some sort of hidden, twisted, sadistic affection in them? Was it possible? How could it be...? He looked back at her and frowned, his expression unreadable. Could it be that Willow was truly the one he was in love with? All those times...when her kidnapped her...But the dream about Buffy?
"Hell, what's a dream? Nothing," he retorted aloud. She looked at him, startled.
"You mean...?" she stared, simply breathing.
"Yeah...guess I always have had a thing...well, more...for you.." Lord, now he was the babbling fumbly one.
"Well..that's...that's...good," Or perhaps he wasn't the babbling fumbly one by comparison. She stood, dusting her skirt off coyly.
"So you want to...do something about it...?" he said, standing to face her.
She leaned in close to him and smiled, running a lithe hand down his pale cheekbone. Her rose lips were centimeters from his. She opened her mouth as he stood, enchanted. She tilted her mouth to his ear and when she spoke, her voice was but a breezy whisper.
"Not a chance."
Then, once more re-shouldering her bag, she turned and went along her way down the sidewalk. He followed her with his gaze, insulted beyond no limitation, his pride slammed and beaten into the sidewalk...and at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a little intrigued. With an amazed grin, he hurried after her.
"Hey, Red, wait up!"