Spike looked into the night sky as he drove past the Sunnydale sign. He was finally back. His soul was a tribute to Buffy, but what of Willow? When his mind was not filled with hideous flashes of his demonic past, he found her entering his mind like a balm. Why her? He tried shaking his head to rid it of her face. He fished out a cig and lit it from the dashboard lighter. He rehearsed his reunion with Buffy. Saw himself entering her embrace, moving to kiss her. Willow's face. Damn! Willow, Willow. He said her name aloud and it seemed to echo through the interior of his car.
Willow had Tara. That was that, wasn't it? He imagined killing Tara and stuffing her bloodless body into a crypt. No. That's not me anymore, he thought.
Willow's baby-thin red hair, fragrant and flowing onto her shoulders, the way she pursed her lips, and the sparkle of her eyes, all filled him with longing. He almost ignored the red light he roared up to, but slammed on the brakes and laid some runner.
He squinted through one of the chinks in the paint on his windshield. A redhaired woman walked haltingly along in the dark, carryin a large suitcase. She was leery of his growling Dodge Desoto. As she crossed the span of his headlights, Spike did a double-take.
The redhead was Willow.
"Oh, sod-" He mashed his cigarette into the ashtray and popped open his door. He stopped himself and pulled it closed again. He cursed as he found himself ducking down, afraid to be seen. After a minute he raised his head and saw the light was green.
He sat there at the green light, not knowing what to do.
Someone knocked on his opaque driver side window. He rolled it down a few inches. It was Willow.
"Spike, what are you doing back in Sunnydale?"
Spike wordlessly opened his door and got out. Willow backed away nervously. "I mean, I just ... I thought you had moved.
Spike took slow steps toward her.
Willow swallowed. She stepped backward as Spike advanced, eyes fixed on his emotionless face.
He snatched at her arms. She felt his iron fingers lock onto them. She gave a little jump and dropped her suitcase. She looked fearfully into Spike's face, speechless. He just looked at her, silently. She wondered if he were deciding whether to killer her or just bite her.
Something primal took over. She broke his grip and grabbed the sides of his face. She hopped up on her toes and kissed him. And Spike kissed back. It was a if a dam broke in each of them, a flood of freelings passing between them as they moved their lips together. His hands were on her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was dizzy, as from a drug. He lost himself in the velvet touch of her, in her fiery lips and tongue. She moaned, and he heard himself moan in return. Time stopped, breathing halted, and there was nothing in the world except Willow, lovely fragrant and soft Willow. And for her, all was nothing if not Spike-he was now her universe. She knew it suddenly, and surely, that he was all she wanted, all she needed.
