Hey boys and girls. This little piece of drivel is called Unforgettable.
This is my first time posting here, but it isn't my first piece of writing.
I'm well versed in the WhedonVerse doing C/A centric Angel fic. This is
my first crack at a pure Buffy fic. It's a Spike story, so I hope you
enjoy. I'd love a few reviews.
WEDNESDAY NIGHT
The slim brunette smiled slyly at her. Willow's eyes raked over the exquisite body of the woman before her, lust evident in her face. "Do you want me to take my shirt off?" the girl teased. She smoothed out her black skirt before her hands went to the top button on her white dress shirt. Willow nodded dumbly, her eyes watching intently as the girl before her slowly undid the buttons. If she didn't hurry up, Willow might have to help speed things up.
Willow gasped in approval as the girl finally shrugged off the shirt, revealing her smooth ivory skin, and a lacey black satin bra that held her full and round breasts. "I take it you like?" the girl smiled. Willow nodded again, her eyes fixated on the girl's beautiful breasts. "Now show me yours," the girl commanded softly. It was now Willow's turn to smile slyly.
Willow reached down and grabbed the bottom of her lavender shirt. "I suppose that's only fair," she replied to the girl's command. She lifted the shirt slowly, relishing the fact that she knew the girl was lusting after her tight stomach, then her small but pert breasts. She could tell that the girl liked her simple white cotton bra. Willow tossed the shirt aside. "Your turn again."
The girl bit gently on her full, lower lip as she reached down to the small hook on her skirt. Willow was torn between watching the girl's hands and her mouth. The redhead instantly decided she would have to taste that mouth very shortly. The girl raised one perfect eyebrow and asked, "Are you paying close attention?"
"Absolutely," Willow answered. She literally started salivating as the skirt dropped away and revealed a matching black panty. "Beautiful," Willow breathed, "absolutely beautiful." Her eyes never left the Goddess before her as Willow's fingers undid the hook holding up her white dress. She allowed the dress to fall to the floor and watched as the girl's eyes widen.
"Beautiful," the girl repeated, "absolutely beautiful." She fixed Willow with a look of pure lust. "Now come here," she commanded. Willow found herself unable to resist the strong tone. She stepped gently to the girl, her arms immediately seeking to pull her in. Willow's hands instinctively went to the girl's back, searching for the clasp that would expose this Goddess' bosom.
The girl feverishly began to kiss and nip at Willow's throat, eliciting small moans of pleasure from the redhead. It was then that Willow had one last thought before losing herself to the girl before her.
"I never got your name," Willow chuckled.
The girl paused her ministrations long enough to answer. "Amanda," she whispered. "Now shut up and kiss me."
"Amanda," Willow breathed. "Such a pretty name." Willow finally unhooked Amanda's bra. She quickly sought to claim the treasure that it freed. But Amanda shoved Willow to the bed, breaking the contact Willow so desperately wanted. She didn't have to wait long.
Amanda grinned evilly as she pulled Willow's panties off. "Let the fun begin."
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
Willow awoke with an absolute bitch of a headache. She hesitantly opened one eye and found an alarm clock next to the bed. Through the pain in her head, she vaguely realized that it wasn't her alarm clock. It also occurred to her that her bed wasn't as hard as the one she currently rested on. But ignoring that for a moment, she fumbled for the clock to see the time.
3:47 PM
"Aw fuck," Willow groaned. Somehow Willow managed to push herself up and into a sitting position, her feet dangling from the bed. She went to scratch her stomach when she reached an interesting conclusion.
"I'm naked," she mumbled. Willow cautiously stood to test her legs. She was pleased they seemed to be working. Willow stumbled to short distance to the bathroom, her mind clearing enough to understand she was in a hotel. As she plopped down on the toilet, Willow propped an elbow on the sink next to her and rested her chin. Her mind tried to grasp the reasons why she would be in a hotel.
"Buffy didn't kick me out, did she?" Willow's brain struggled to reach a conclusion to the question. She unraveled some toilet paper and wiped herself. Her mind was still warming up and she nearly forgot to flush. Willow forewent washing her hands and stumbled from the bathroom. She found an armchair in the near corner and sat down. As she sat, her arm brushed against the unmistakable feel of satin. Confused, she held up the black satin bra.
"I don't own something like this." When she looked past the C-cups, her eyes spotted another form on the bed. "Oh God," she groaned. She couldn't believe it for so many reasons. She was a good Jewish girl. Granted, she got addicted to magicks and killed a man, but still, it was too soon after Tara's death.
"I had a one night stand." The fact horrified her. It also served to awaken her senses to a functional level. Willow dropped to the floor and began picking up pieces of clothing she recognized as hers. "Shoes," she muttered. "Where the hell are my shoes?"
She found them on the floor beside the bed. The side that the woman slept on. Quietly and carefully Willow crawled until she grabbed her sandals. As she began to pull away, Willow gasped in shock. The girl's eyes were open. Willow gasped again as she realized..the girl wasn't blinking.
Willow reached out and brushed a long strand of hair away from the girl's neck. As she did, visions of passion and ecstasy flooded her memory. She hadn't just had a one night stand. Willow had thoroughly enjoyed it. She pushed the memory aside long enough to touch two fingers to the girl's neck. No pulse.
Willow was fully to her senses now. She raced back around the bed and grabbed the telephone and hit 9-1-1. "This is 9-1-1," the voice answered. "What is your emergency?"
Willow sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. Tears had begun to flow down her face as she spoke. "My name is Willow Rosenberg. I don't know where I am."
"Excuse me?" the operator asked.
"I don't know where I am," Willow repeated. "And somebody is dead."
THURSDAY EVENING
SUNNYDALE POLICE DEPARTMENT
The past several months had brought about more changes with the Sunnydale Police than the previous two decades before it. Of course, Detective Greg Ray had only heard about most of it.
Apparently in mid-May, some mysterious woman had pulled a Terminator and destroyed a good portion of the south wall of the station. A couple of prisoners escaped in the confusion and were never found.
The aftermath was a genuine Perestroika when it came to the Sunnydale PD. The chief of police had summarily been relieved of duty, as had several officers that had been on duty in the detention wing of the building that night.
The Sunnydale City Council had evidently seen the opportunity to finally begin work on that expansion project to add more cells. They had also raided other police departments around the state, looking for people to replace those who had been fired. Enter Greg Ray.
Ray had been quite content with his job at the Sonoma Police Department. It was a nice town, right in the heart of wine country. Great neighbors, good public schools, although the pay left a little to be desired. And Ray was man enough to admit, it was the promise of a six thousand dollar a year pay raise that finally lured him here. Of course, retrospect was telling him that he should have kept his ass in Sonoma. This town was just fucking weird.
If Ray earned a nickel for every time a body was brought to the morgue with two puncture wounds on the neck, he might be able to retire five years early. For a town of its size, there was a high murder rate. Hell, Ray thought, the murder rate was high for Newark.
The detective kicked back and propped his feet on his desk as he read the preliminary reports on the death from earlier in the day. This one seemed relatively normal, well, not that any murder is normal. But for Sunnydale standards it was.
There didn't seem to be any bruising or lacerations on Amanda Richards. The coroner was giving an initial cause of death as autoerotic asphyxiation. Kinky, especially considering that it was another woman who she was found with. Miss Willow Rosenberg was being held for questioning.
"Ray!" Heather Jenkins called to him. "You got visitors for the Rosenberg girl."
Ray turned towards the lobby and spotted three individuals. There was an older and distinguished looking man flanked by a short blonde girl and a tall dark haired man. Ray hopped to his feet and went over to greet the newcomers.
"Hello, my name is Detective Greg Ray. I understand you wish to see Willow Rosenberg."
"Yes," the older man replied. "My name is Rupert Giles, these are Xander Harris and Buffy Summers. May I ask why she is being held?"
"Well, it seems that Miss Rosenberg called 9-1-1 about the death of a young girl. At the moment, we are simply holding her for questioning, but that is proving to be difficult."
"Why is that?" Giles asked.
"Miss Rosenberg seems to remember very little. In fact, she claims to remember nothing at all. Perhaps you may be able to help us with the timeline. When was the last you saw Miss Rosenberg?"
"We say her around four yesterday afternoon," Buffy spoke. "She said that she was going out last night. She didn't say where. May we see her now?"
"Of course," Ray nodded. He turned to an officer behind the desk. "Officer Curtis, could you escort these three to Holding Cell B?" The officer agreed and grabbed the keys from the desk. "Just follow him," Ray informed the trio. The Scoobies thanked the detective and followed the officer through the halls of the Sunnydale Police Department.
Willow sat behind a rickety old oak table in an uncomfortable chair that reminded the redhead of some high school classes. She brushed her hair away from her face as she waited. Although she didn't quite know what she was waiting for. Willow had been in this room for nearly four hours. She was beginning to think that no one would ever come for her.
So Willow leaped from her seat when she saw her friends enter the room. "Buffy! Giles! Xander! I'm so glad to see you guys!" Willow hugged each of her friends with fervor.
"Willow?" Giles asked. "Are you okay? Are you injured?"
"Willow," Buffy started. "What is going on? The police said that you called in a death."
"I'm fine," Willow answered Giles' question first. "And I really don't know what is going on. I woke up in a hotel room with a dead girl in bed with me."
"A hotel, Will?" Xander asked. "I'm sorry, but what were you doing at a hotel?"
"I don't know!" an exasperated Willow shouted. "The last thing that I remember for certain is saying goodbye to you guys at the Magic Box. But, uh, I've kind of been having flashes of visions."
"Visions of what?" Buffy asked.
"Of me and this girl, doing, uh, well." Willow trailed off, and the trio had a great idea of what she was talking about.
Giles cleared his throat. "Well, it sounds as if you are experiencing a form of retrograde amnesia. Your mind has repressed whatever happened, but your subconscious is trying to clue you in, so to speak."
"Well, I hope my subconscious decides to speed things up, because I want to know what happened last night."
The door swung open to reveal a grim faced Greg Ray and Officer Curtis behind him. "Miss Rosenberg," Ray began, "do you have any new information for us, or is your memory still fuzzy?"
"I don't remember what happened," Willow defended.
The detective looked somber, as if he was prepared to do something he really didn't care for. "The only fingerprints that the CSI's have located belong to the victim and yourself. There is no forced entry, and seemingly no presence of a third individual. They also found traces of a Ketamine- type substance in the room and in her blood. "
"What are you saying?" Giles asked.
Ray turned and faced the Englishman. "I'm saying that Miss Rosenberg is advised to retain a lawyer. Officer Curtis, could you read Miss Rosenberg her rights?"
Willow's head sunk as the officer began to recite from his list. As the handcuffs were secured around her wrists, Willow couldn't help but think that perhaps this is what she deserved.
WEDNESDAY NIGHT
The slim brunette smiled slyly at her. Willow's eyes raked over the exquisite body of the woman before her, lust evident in her face. "Do you want me to take my shirt off?" the girl teased. She smoothed out her black skirt before her hands went to the top button on her white dress shirt. Willow nodded dumbly, her eyes watching intently as the girl before her slowly undid the buttons. If she didn't hurry up, Willow might have to help speed things up.
Willow gasped in approval as the girl finally shrugged off the shirt, revealing her smooth ivory skin, and a lacey black satin bra that held her full and round breasts. "I take it you like?" the girl smiled. Willow nodded again, her eyes fixated on the girl's beautiful breasts. "Now show me yours," the girl commanded softly. It was now Willow's turn to smile slyly.
Willow reached down and grabbed the bottom of her lavender shirt. "I suppose that's only fair," she replied to the girl's command. She lifted the shirt slowly, relishing the fact that she knew the girl was lusting after her tight stomach, then her small but pert breasts. She could tell that the girl liked her simple white cotton bra. Willow tossed the shirt aside. "Your turn again."
The girl bit gently on her full, lower lip as she reached down to the small hook on her skirt. Willow was torn between watching the girl's hands and her mouth. The redhead instantly decided she would have to taste that mouth very shortly. The girl raised one perfect eyebrow and asked, "Are you paying close attention?"
"Absolutely," Willow answered. She literally started salivating as the skirt dropped away and revealed a matching black panty. "Beautiful," Willow breathed, "absolutely beautiful." Her eyes never left the Goddess before her as Willow's fingers undid the hook holding up her white dress. She allowed the dress to fall to the floor and watched as the girl's eyes widen.
"Beautiful," the girl repeated, "absolutely beautiful." She fixed Willow with a look of pure lust. "Now come here," she commanded. Willow found herself unable to resist the strong tone. She stepped gently to the girl, her arms immediately seeking to pull her in. Willow's hands instinctively went to the girl's back, searching for the clasp that would expose this Goddess' bosom.
The girl feverishly began to kiss and nip at Willow's throat, eliciting small moans of pleasure from the redhead. It was then that Willow had one last thought before losing herself to the girl before her.
"I never got your name," Willow chuckled.
The girl paused her ministrations long enough to answer. "Amanda," she whispered. "Now shut up and kiss me."
"Amanda," Willow breathed. "Such a pretty name." Willow finally unhooked Amanda's bra. She quickly sought to claim the treasure that it freed. But Amanda shoved Willow to the bed, breaking the contact Willow so desperately wanted. She didn't have to wait long.
Amanda grinned evilly as she pulled Willow's panties off. "Let the fun begin."
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
Willow awoke with an absolute bitch of a headache. She hesitantly opened one eye and found an alarm clock next to the bed. Through the pain in her head, she vaguely realized that it wasn't her alarm clock. It also occurred to her that her bed wasn't as hard as the one she currently rested on. But ignoring that for a moment, she fumbled for the clock to see the time.
3:47 PM
"Aw fuck," Willow groaned. Somehow Willow managed to push herself up and into a sitting position, her feet dangling from the bed. She went to scratch her stomach when she reached an interesting conclusion.
"I'm naked," she mumbled. Willow cautiously stood to test her legs. She was pleased they seemed to be working. Willow stumbled to short distance to the bathroom, her mind clearing enough to understand she was in a hotel. As she plopped down on the toilet, Willow propped an elbow on the sink next to her and rested her chin. Her mind tried to grasp the reasons why she would be in a hotel.
"Buffy didn't kick me out, did she?" Willow's brain struggled to reach a conclusion to the question. She unraveled some toilet paper and wiped herself. Her mind was still warming up and she nearly forgot to flush. Willow forewent washing her hands and stumbled from the bathroom. She found an armchair in the near corner and sat down. As she sat, her arm brushed against the unmistakable feel of satin. Confused, she held up the black satin bra.
"I don't own something like this." When she looked past the C-cups, her eyes spotted another form on the bed. "Oh God," she groaned. She couldn't believe it for so many reasons. She was a good Jewish girl. Granted, she got addicted to magicks and killed a man, but still, it was too soon after Tara's death.
"I had a one night stand." The fact horrified her. It also served to awaken her senses to a functional level. Willow dropped to the floor and began picking up pieces of clothing she recognized as hers. "Shoes," she muttered. "Where the hell are my shoes?"
She found them on the floor beside the bed. The side that the woman slept on. Quietly and carefully Willow crawled until she grabbed her sandals. As she began to pull away, Willow gasped in shock. The girl's eyes were open. Willow gasped again as she realized..the girl wasn't blinking.
Willow reached out and brushed a long strand of hair away from the girl's neck. As she did, visions of passion and ecstasy flooded her memory. She hadn't just had a one night stand. Willow had thoroughly enjoyed it. She pushed the memory aside long enough to touch two fingers to the girl's neck. No pulse.
Willow was fully to her senses now. She raced back around the bed and grabbed the telephone and hit 9-1-1. "This is 9-1-1," the voice answered. "What is your emergency?"
Willow sat on the floor, her back pressed against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. Tears had begun to flow down her face as she spoke. "My name is Willow Rosenberg. I don't know where I am."
"Excuse me?" the operator asked.
"I don't know where I am," Willow repeated. "And somebody is dead."
THURSDAY EVENING
SUNNYDALE POLICE DEPARTMENT
The past several months had brought about more changes with the Sunnydale Police than the previous two decades before it. Of course, Detective Greg Ray had only heard about most of it.
Apparently in mid-May, some mysterious woman had pulled a Terminator and destroyed a good portion of the south wall of the station. A couple of prisoners escaped in the confusion and were never found.
The aftermath was a genuine Perestroika when it came to the Sunnydale PD. The chief of police had summarily been relieved of duty, as had several officers that had been on duty in the detention wing of the building that night.
The Sunnydale City Council had evidently seen the opportunity to finally begin work on that expansion project to add more cells. They had also raided other police departments around the state, looking for people to replace those who had been fired. Enter Greg Ray.
Ray had been quite content with his job at the Sonoma Police Department. It was a nice town, right in the heart of wine country. Great neighbors, good public schools, although the pay left a little to be desired. And Ray was man enough to admit, it was the promise of a six thousand dollar a year pay raise that finally lured him here. Of course, retrospect was telling him that he should have kept his ass in Sonoma. This town was just fucking weird.
If Ray earned a nickel for every time a body was brought to the morgue with two puncture wounds on the neck, he might be able to retire five years early. For a town of its size, there was a high murder rate. Hell, Ray thought, the murder rate was high for Newark.
The detective kicked back and propped his feet on his desk as he read the preliminary reports on the death from earlier in the day. This one seemed relatively normal, well, not that any murder is normal. But for Sunnydale standards it was.
There didn't seem to be any bruising or lacerations on Amanda Richards. The coroner was giving an initial cause of death as autoerotic asphyxiation. Kinky, especially considering that it was another woman who she was found with. Miss Willow Rosenberg was being held for questioning.
"Ray!" Heather Jenkins called to him. "You got visitors for the Rosenberg girl."
Ray turned towards the lobby and spotted three individuals. There was an older and distinguished looking man flanked by a short blonde girl and a tall dark haired man. Ray hopped to his feet and went over to greet the newcomers.
"Hello, my name is Detective Greg Ray. I understand you wish to see Willow Rosenberg."
"Yes," the older man replied. "My name is Rupert Giles, these are Xander Harris and Buffy Summers. May I ask why she is being held?"
"Well, it seems that Miss Rosenberg called 9-1-1 about the death of a young girl. At the moment, we are simply holding her for questioning, but that is proving to be difficult."
"Why is that?" Giles asked.
"Miss Rosenberg seems to remember very little. In fact, she claims to remember nothing at all. Perhaps you may be able to help us with the timeline. When was the last you saw Miss Rosenberg?"
"We say her around four yesterday afternoon," Buffy spoke. "She said that she was going out last night. She didn't say where. May we see her now?"
"Of course," Ray nodded. He turned to an officer behind the desk. "Officer Curtis, could you escort these three to Holding Cell B?" The officer agreed and grabbed the keys from the desk. "Just follow him," Ray informed the trio. The Scoobies thanked the detective and followed the officer through the halls of the Sunnydale Police Department.
Willow sat behind a rickety old oak table in an uncomfortable chair that reminded the redhead of some high school classes. She brushed her hair away from her face as she waited. Although she didn't quite know what she was waiting for. Willow had been in this room for nearly four hours. She was beginning to think that no one would ever come for her.
So Willow leaped from her seat when she saw her friends enter the room. "Buffy! Giles! Xander! I'm so glad to see you guys!" Willow hugged each of her friends with fervor.
"Willow?" Giles asked. "Are you okay? Are you injured?"
"Willow," Buffy started. "What is going on? The police said that you called in a death."
"I'm fine," Willow answered Giles' question first. "And I really don't know what is going on. I woke up in a hotel room with a dead girl in bed with me."
"A hotel, Will?" Xander asked. "I'm sorry, but what were you doing at a hotel?"
"I don't know!" an exasperated Willow shouted. "The last thing that I remember for certain is saying goodbye to you guys at the Magic Box. But, uh, I've kind of been having flashes of visions."
"Visions of what?" Buffy asked.
"Of me and this girl, doing, uh, well." Willow trailed off, and the trio had a great idea of what she was talking about.
Giles cleared his throat. "Well, it sounds as if you are experiencing a form of retrograde amnesia. Your mind has repressed whatever happened, but your subconscious is trying to clue you in, so to speak."
"Well, I hope my subconscious decides to speed things up, because I want to know what happened last night."
The door swung open to reveal a grim faced Greg Ray and Officer Curtis behind him. "Miss Rosenberg," Ray began, "do you have any new information for us, or is your memory still fuzzy?"
"I don't remember what happened," Willow defended.
The detective looked somber, as if he was prepared to do something he really didn't care for. "The only fingerprints that the CSI's have located belong to the victim and yourself. There is no forced entry, and seemingly no presence of a third individual. They also found traces of a Ketamine- type substance in the room and in her blood. "
"What are you saying?" Giles asked.
Ray turned and faced the Englishman. "I'm saying that Miss Rosenberg is advised to retain a lawyer. Officer Curtis, could you read Miss Rosenberg her rights?"
Willow's head sunk as the officer began to recite from his list. As the handcuffs were secured around her wrists, Willow couldn't help but think that perhaps this is what she deserved.
