Disclaimer: I own none of this. Joss Whedon and all the nice people at Mutant Enemy own it all.
Feedback: Please!!!!!!!!!
A/N: I decided that my earlier post of this story was to short so I added more. Also, I didn't get any reviews and found that very discouraging. Also, this is the third repost of this chapter but I didn't really change anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Through the crowd, Spike saw a flash of red hair. It was falling up and down lightly, illuminating the girl who it belonged to. Somehow, he knew it was Willow. He could sense her near him. In a crowded place like the Bronze, where everyone blended together in a heaving mass, she stood out. It didn't matter that she was the only one dancing alone, Spike knew that everyone wanted to be with her. Or they envied her because they knew the person they were dancing with wanted to be with her, the anonymous redhead. They all wanted to be apart of the unrestrained ecstasy that she held in her every movement, the emotion that filled that filled her to the point that it threatened to spill over onto the people dancing near her. That's way they all moved closer to her, hoping to catch a drop of it. But no one dared to move too close, she was untouchable. She danced like the world was coming to an end and on a hellmouth, that wasn't unlikely.
Spike was the only person brave enough to approach the wildly dancing girl. He moved to her, fit her motions, matched her beat, if she had one. When she looked up at him, her bright green eyes filled with some unreadable emotion. It wasn't fear. No, Spike hadn't seen fear in the eyes of anyone recently. At least not fear cause be him. But she seemed to accept his presence there by pulling him to her, much to the disappointment of those around them.
They danced. As he predicted, her energy passed to him. They moved together. Together they shared a bond, something that kept them dancing until she slowly moved him off the dance floor. She snuck in quick, teasing kisses on his lips, cheeks, ears. The adrenaline of the music surged through they even as they made their way back to her dorm.
"Buffy's patrolling," Willow slipped in between kisses as she searched for the doorknob, her back to the door so she could still face Spike.
Grabbing her hand is it still groped the door, Spike kissed Willow hard on the mouth. In the kiss he tasted the alcohol on her breath, realizing in that instant that he could be anyone. And that the ecstasy she seemed to hold in her was covering an even more powerful emotion, grief. But even with that knowledge, Spike couldn't stop himself. Neither could she.
The rhythm from the music at the Bronze stuck with them all night. It wasn't until Willow had fallen asleep beside Spike, naked and unassuming, that he saw past it. He saw the girl he'd first seen what seemed like so long ago. The shy, unsure girl who had moved so self consciously on the dance floor. What he had seen tonight, he knew, he might never see again. What had happened between them would never happen again. She would wake up confused and with a terrible hangover. It would take a while for the night's events to come back to her. By then he would be long gone. He couldn't stay any longer knowing he would never see or feel what he had seen and felt that night.
Getting up from that bed and dressing to leave was one of the hardest things Spike had ever done in his unlife. But he knew it was the right thing to do. Remembering the crush he'd harbored for the witch for a while, he decided leaving without a memento would be wrong. And he knew just what to take.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow woke up just as Spike thought she would, naked, confused, and with a splitting headache. Added to that was Buffy, who had gotten back from patrolling a while after Spike left.
"Whoa, Will, did you finally find a way to overcome your insomnia?" said the slayer, noting Willow's apparel or lack of.
Willow flushed causing her face to match her hair. She quickly wrapped her blanket around her and hurried to the dresser as Buffy absorbed herself with putting on some make-up. Slowly the events of the night before came flooding back to Willow as she shuffled through her shirt drawer. She couldn't believe what had happened. What was weirder was that she couldn't decide what she thought of all of it.
"Hey Buffy," Willow called and the slayer turned to her best friend, "Have you seen my shirt? You know, the fuzzy, pink one that has the lilac underneath?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow didn't go to classes that day. She came out and told Buffy the truth. Well, most of the truth, the parts that didn't include sleeping with Buffy's arch enemy.
"Willow with a hangover," the slayer had mused, "at least you didn't get turned into a caveman, I mean cavewomen."
Laughing lightly to cover up her guilt about not telling the whole truth, Willow told her concerned friend to go on to class without her. Without much arguing, Buffy agreed and skipped off to class. Well, she walked cheerfully, too cheerfully to Willow who felt a little hurt that her best friend didn't seem to care very much.
"She's just busy with, you know, slayer stuff and school stuff," the ever-optimistic Willow reasoned, "and boy stuff," she added, pulling her blanket up around her.
Boy stuff. The term suddenly shot a pain through Willow's stomach. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Oz," she cried pitifully as if by just calling his name he'd appear.
Everyone thought Willow had gotten over her werewolf ex-boyfriend a while ago. Everyone wanted her to, at least. She had actually made some progress but something in her still ached. Despite her attempts to meet new people, Willow felt alone. Something was missing. She hadn't felt complete since Oz left, not for a prolonged period of time. Even when she drank, she still felt lonely.
Last night, though, when she drank, something happened. She felt complete. Not from the alcohol running through her or the music pounding around her. It was the people. She felt wanted, at least for that short time. Especially wanted by one person, the only person who had approached her that night. Spike.
It was strange to think that the presence of the fangless vamp had filled Willow up. But the desire she could sense he had for her stopped the pain for that dance. For the entire time they were together.
Even as she thought about him, the aching stopped. Then suddenly Willow felt silly about thinking about the blond vampire and the pain of the hangover came back violently, forcing her to rush off to the bathroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What are you doing here?" Spike asked himself silently as he stood in Willow's dorm room closet.
About 3:00 am, Spike found himself near the edge of California after driving for approximently two hours. He had stood staring the sign welcoming him into Nevada for a long time. He thought about her, of course. Wondering if she was sleeping or had woken up, the not-so sunny effects of beer kicking in. If she was awake, was she thinking of him? Would she be thinking good thoughts about him or regretting what she'd done? Would she tell Buffy about him? Would it be with shame or hope?
"Bugger it!" He declared finally to his nonexistent audience. "Bugger doing the right thing! I'm the bloody poofter!"
With that, he revved up the engine and backed up into the welcome sign for good luck and was headed back to Sunnyhell.
But by the time he got there, the sun was almost up. Parking his car in a handicap space and running like the wind was Spike's only option to get to Willow's dorm room before dusting time.
When he got to the room he would have said a prayer, had he not been a demon, that Buffy wasn't awake, but time would not allow that. Instead he hoped for the best, slipped through the door, found Willow and Buffy asleep, and hid in the closet amongst flowered skirts and blouses. Spike didn't really have a plan. He'd tried to think of one on the way back to Sunnydale but nothing come to him in his unusually jittery state.
So he just decided to wait, hoping that there would be a moment where the slayer would leave him to his anonymous redhead.
Spike is not a patient demon. Waiting in that closet was unbearable. It was cramped and hot. The slits in the doors were too small to see out of so he couldn't even watch Willow sleep. It took forever but finally Willow and Buffy woke up and exchanged the usual morning hellos. Willow didn't mention what happened between her and Spike. Then the slayer was gone. But suddenly, while preparing his entrance, he heard Willow whisper something. Oz. Spike's unbeating heart sank.
"What are you doing here?" He though, all of his hopes dashed. He'd just return Willow's shirt, the pink fuzzy one, and go. Luckily Willow ran off, out the door, leaving him time to do what needed to be done.
He slowly opened the door and eased his way out. One of the most important things Spike had leaned as a vampire was how to be sneaky. And his training would of worked fine had the doorknob not suddenly started to turn.
Of all the things Spike could've done in that moment, grabbing a lampshade for a disguise was the dumbest. There he was, a 126 year-old vampire who's taken down two slayers, with a lampshade on his head trying to hide from the mortal girl he was in love with.
"Could this get any worse?" Spike thought as the door opened.
"Spike?!?"
"Oh bloody hell," Spike groaned as he took off the frilly pink lampshade.
It was the slayer. That blond twit.
"Oh, I am so going to slay you!" The small but surprisingly strong blonde declared, brandishing a stake from her purse.
"Fine! Go ahead! See if I care!" The vampire fumed, opening his arms giving easy access to his heart.
Buffy considered a moment, looking at the pathetic vampire in front of her.
'What are you doing here?" She asked, still holding the stake fiercely.
"Well, I was going to proclaim my love to your redheaded roommate, where'd she go anyhow?"
"Oh, funny, Spike," sneered Buffy.
Spike dropped his arms to his side and rolled his eyes.
"Right, vampire evil, can't love," Spike said, oozing with sarcasm and distaste.
"Damn straight," She replied, suddenly moving closer to him, her voice level dropping while she raised the stake to his heart. "I don't want Willow to be hurt. Physically or emotionally. Not again. That's why I came back."
"Wait, was that acceptance or-"
"No!" Buffy cried, cutting Spike off. "It was just... a warning. Willow has to decide if she wants you or not. But if she does want you, it's going to take a lot more to get my approval."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Yes, Big Sister Buffy."
"I'm serious," she hissed, "you're still evil to me. You can't just decide to be good. you have to earn it."
Understanding seemed to fill Spike's eyes. He really loved Willow. He knew that she made him to be better. Well, not enough to turn into a poof, but enough to work for her approval.
Just then, a very dazed Willow walked in to see her best friend holding a stake up to the man she had slept with.
"No, Buffy don't!" Willow cried, seized by a sudden impulse to protect Spike by running to his side.
Spike looked down at the red-haired girl, her eyebrows stitched together in worry, her delicate hands grasping his arm. While gazing down at the girl he'd come back for, he began to see all her flaws. A small bump or line, nothing to large. Looking at her made Spike see the real Willow. Not the unobtainable and anonymous redhead he'd seen the night before with some enchanting perfection in her every move. He saw Willow. And he realized, he loved this Willow more than the one he'd seen dancing in all her splendor. This realization made he kiss her passionately and she didn't pull away. Buffy stood there amazed. But neither Spike nor Willow noticed her, they just kept kissing.
Feedback: Please!!!!!!!!!
A/N: I decided that my earlier post of this story was to short so I added more. Also, I didn't get any reviews and found that very discouraging. Also, this is the third repost of this chapter but I didn't really change anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Through the crowd, Spike saw a flash of red hair. It was falling up and down lightly, illuminating the girl who it belonged to. Somehow, he knew it was Willow. He could sense her near him. In a crowded place like the Bronze, where everyone blended together in a heaving mass, she stood out. It didn't matter that she was the only one dancing alone, Spike knew that everyone wanted to be with her. Or they envied her because they knew the person they were dancing with wanted to be with her, the anonymous redhead. They all wanted to be apart of the unrestrained ecstasy that she held in her every movement, the emotion that filled that filled her to the point that it threatened to spill over onto the people dancing near her. That's way they all moved closer to her, hoping to catch a drop of it. But no one dared to move too close, she was untouchable. She danced like the world was coming to an end and on a hellmouth, that wasn't unlikely.
Spike was the only person brave enough to approach the wildly dancing girl. He moved to her, fit her motions, matched her beat, if she had one. When she looked up at him, her bright green eyes filled with some unreadable emotion. It wasn't fear. No, Spike hadn't seen fear in the eyes of anyone recently. At least not fear cause be him. But she seemed to accept his presence there by pulling him to her, much to the disappointment of those around them.
They danced. As he predicted, her energy passed to him. They moved together. Together they shared a bond, something that kept them dancing until she slowly moved him off the dance floor. She snuck in quick, teasing kisses on his lips, cheeks, ears. The adrenaline of the music surged through they even as they made their way back to her dorm.
"Buffy's patrolling," Willow slipped in between kisses as she searched for the doorknob, her back to the door so she could still face Spike.
Grabbing her hand is it still groped the door, Spike kissed Willow hard on the mouth. In the kiss he tasted the alcohol on her breath, realizing in that instant that he could be anyone. And that the ecstasy she seemed to hold in her was covering an even more powerful emotion, grief. But even with that knowledge, Spike couldn't stop himself. Neither could she.
The rhythm from the music at the Bronze stuck with them all night. It wasn't until Willow had fallen asleep beside Spike, naked and unassuming, that he saw past it. He saw the girl he'd first seen what seemed like so long ago. The shy, unsure girl who had moved so self consciously on the dance floor. What he had seen tonight, he knew, he might never see again. What had happened between them would never happen again. She would wake up confused and with a terrible hangover. It would take a while for the night's events to come back to her. By then he would be long gone. He couldn't stay any longer knowing he would never see or feel what he had seen and felt that night.
Getting up from that bed and dressing to leave was one of the hardest things Spike had ever done in his unlife. But he knew it was the right thing to do. Remembering the crush he'd harbored for the witch for a while, he decided leaving without a memento would be wrong. And he knew just what to take.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow woke up just as Spike thought she would, naked, confused, and with a splitting headache. Added to that was Buffy, who had gotten back from patrolling a while after Spike left.
"Whoa, Will, did you finally find a way to overcome your insomnia?" said the slayer, noting Willow's apparel or lack of.
Willow flushed causing her face to match her hair. She quickly wrapped her blanket around her and hurried to the dresser as Buffy absorbed herself with putting on some make-up. Slowly the events of the night before came flooding back to Willow as she shuffled through her shirt drawer. She couldn't believe what had happened. What was weirder was that she couldn't decide what she thought of all of it.
"Hey Buffy," Willow called and the slayer turned to her best friend, "Have you seen my shirt? You know, the fuzzy, pink one that has the lilac underneath?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow didn't go to classes that day. She came out and told Buffy the truth. Well, most of the truth, the parts that didn't include sleeping with Buffy's arch enemy.
"Willow with a hangover," the slayer had mused, "at least you didn't get turned into a caveman, I mean cavewomen."
Laughing lightly to cover up her guilt about not telling the whole truth, Willow told her concerned friend to go on to class without her. Without much arguing, Buffy agreed and skipped off to class. Well, she walked cheerfully, too cheerfully to Willow who felt a little hurt that her best friend didn't seem to care very much.
"She's just busy with, you know, slayer stuff and school stuff," the ever-optimistic Willow reasoned, "and boy stuff," she added, pulling her blanket up around her.
Boy stuff. The term suddenly shot a pain through Willow's stomach. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Oz," she cried pitifully as if by just calling his name he'd appear.
Everyone thought Willow had gotten over her werewolf ex-boyfriend a while ago. Everyone wanted her to, at least. She had actually made some progress but something in her still ached. Despite her attempts to meet new people, Willow felt alone. Something was missing. She hadn't felt complete since Oz left, not for a prolonged period of time. Even when she drank, she still felt lonely.
Last night, though, when she drank, something happened. She felt complete. Not from the alcohol running through her or the music pounding around her. It was the people. She felt wanted, at least for that short time. Especially wanted by one person, the only person who had approached her that night. Spike.
It was strange to think that the presence of the fangless vamp had filled Willow up. But the desire she could sense he had for her stopped the pain for that dance. For the entire time they were together.
Even as she thought about him, the aching stopped. Then suddenly Willow felt silly about thinking about the blond vampire and the pain of the hangover came back violently, forcing her to rush off to the bathroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What are you doing here?" Spike asked himself silently as he stood in Willow's dorm room closet.
About 3:00 am, Spike found himself near the edge of California after driving for approximently two hours. He had stood staring the sign welcoming him into Nevada for a long time. He thought about her, of course. Wondering if she was sleeping or had woken up, the not-so sunny effects of beer kicking in. If she was awake, was she thinking of him? Would she be thinking good thoughts about him or regretting what she'd done? Would she tell Buffy about him? Would it be with shame or hope?
"Bugger it!" He declared finally to his nonexistent audience. "Bugger doing the right thing! I'm the bloody poofter!"
With that, he revved up the engine and backed up into the welcome sign for good luck and was headed back to Sunnyhell.
But by the time he got there, the sun was almost up. Parking his car in a handicap space and running like the wind was Spike's only option to get to Willow's dorm room before dusting time.
When he got to the room he would have said a prayer, had he not been a demon, that Buffy wasn't awake, but time would not allow that. Instead he hoped for the best, slipped through the door, found Willow and Buffy asleep, and hid in the closet amongst flowered skirts and blouses. Spike didn't really have a plan. He'd tried to think of one on the way back to Sunnydale but nothing come to him in his unusually jittery state.
So he just decided to wait, hoping that there would be a moment where the slayer would leave him to his anonymous redhead.
Spike is not a patient demon. Waiting in that closet was unbearable. It was cramped and hot. The slits in the doors were too small to see out of so he couldn't even watch Willow sleep. It took forever but finally Willow and Buffy woke up and exchanged the usual morning hellos. Willow didn't mention what happened between her and Spike. Then the slayer was gone. But suddenly, while preparing his entrance, he heard Willow whisper something. Oz. Spike's unbeating heart sank.
"What are you doing here?" He though, all of his hopes dashed. He'd just return Willow's shirt, the pink fuzzy one, and go. Luckily Willow ran off, out the door, leaving him time to do what needed to be done.
He slowly opened the door and eased his way out. One of the most important things Spike had leaned as a vampire was how to be sneaky. And his training would of worked fine had the doorknob not suddenly started to turn.
Of all the things Spike could've done in that moment, grabbing a lampshade for a disguise was the dumbest. There he was, a 126 year-old vampire who's taken down two slayers, with a lampshade on his head trying to hide from the mortal girl he was in love with.
"Could this get any worse?" Spike thought as the door opened.
"Spike?!?"
"Oh bloody hell," Spike groaned as he took off the frilly pink lampshade.
It was the slayer. That blond twit.
"Oh, I am so going to slay you!" The small but surprisingly strong blonde declared, brandishing a stake from her purse.
"Fine! Go ahead! See if I care!" The vampire fumed, opening his arms giving easy access to his heart.
Buffy considered a moment, looking at the pathetic vampire in front of her.
'What are you doing here?" She asked, still holding the stake fiercely.
"Well, I was going to proclaim my love to your redheaded roommate, where'd she go anyhow?"
"Oh, funny, Spike," sneered Buffy.
Spike dropped his arms to his side and rolled his eyes.
"Right, vampire evil, can't love," Spike said, oozing with sarcasm and distaste.
"Damn straight," She replied, suddenly moving closer to him, her voice level dropping while she raised the stake to his heart. "I don't want Willow to be hurt. Physically or emotionally. Not again. That's why I came back."
"Wait, was that acceptance or-"
"No!" Buffy cried, cutting Spike off. "It was just... a warning. Willow has to decide if she wants you or not. But if she does want you, it's going to take a lot more to get my approval."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Yes, Big Sister Buffy."
"I'm serious," she hissed, "you're still evil to me. You can't just decide to be good. you have to earn it."
Understanding seemed to fill Spike's eyes. He really loved Willow. He knew that she made him to be better. Well, not enough to turn into a poof, but enough to work for her approval.
Just then, a very dazed Willow walked in to see her best friend holding a stake up to the man she had slept with.
"No, Buffy don't!" Willow cried, seized by a sudden impulse to protect Spike by running to his side.
Spike looked down at the red-haired girl, her eyebrows stitched together in worry, her delicate hands grasping his arm. While gazing down at the girl he'd come back for, he began to see all her flaws. A small bump or line, nothing to large. Looking at her made Spike see the real Willow. Not the unobtainable and anonymous redhead he'd seen the night before with some enchanting perfection in her every move. He saw Willow. And he realized, he loved this Willow more than the one he'd seen dancing in all her splendor. This realization made he kiss her passionately and she didn't pull away. Buffy stood there amazed. But neither Spike nor Willow noticed her, they just kept kissing.