A/N: These characters belong to Joss. They are not mine in anyway (but I can still dream, can't I?) yhadda yhadda. Happy Reading. :)=
Spike sighed and lit another cigarette, tossing the burnt out butt of the last one into the growing pile on the floor beside him. He stared at the muted TV, letting the smoke run out his nostrils and curl about his face like ghostly snakes.
"Dammit, Spike, you're getting soft," he barked out a laugh and shook his head, waving the cigarette around in the air, "What in bloody Hell's name was that yesterday?" he laughed again and tried to shake away the memory...his finger tracing the delicate arch of her cheek bone, his cold hands on her face...
A soft, cautious knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts. He hoped off his "bed" and stomped the cancer stick out on the cold floor.
"Who's there?"
In response, the door opened and in stepped...Willow, holding two heavy looking bags.
"Red?" he blurted, "What the hell are you doing here?" instinctively, he moved to help her with the bags, but she pulled them away and sat them atop a coffin.
"You know, most people say 'come in' and 'nice to see you,' not 'who's there?' and 'what the hell are you doing here,'" she said, miffed.
"Sorry...didn't mean to be...rude," he said, stepping behind her to look over her shoulder at the bags. He languished in the moment, tracing the elegant curve of her neck with his eyes and inhaling the faint, sweet smell of her shampoo. She turned suddenly and jumped, startled to see him so close. He quickly stepped back and looked away.
"So, what's in the bags?" he asked, still staring at the floor intently.
She pulled something out of one of the bags, "Well...I know it's hard for you to get out a lot-" she paused, checking to see if she had offended him. His face was passive so she continued, "So I stopped by the butcher's shop and picked you up some cow and pig blood. I wasn't sure which one you prefer, so I got equal amounts of both and put them in these cute little labeled packets."
He walked back toward her to survey her work. She looked up at him eagerly, chewing on her bottom lip. He was careful not to show any emotion, but instead inquired,
"What'd the butcher say?"
Willow smiled and shrugged, "I told him I was having guests over for a French dinner, he turned kinda green when I asked for blood and didn't really talk after that," she paused, "maybe he should look into a different field."
Spike nodded slightly and glanced at the second bag, "What's in there?"
"Oh..." she blushed slightly, "I heard Giles say that you said your apartment quote 'could use a woman's touch'" she shrugged and brushed some loose strands of auburn hair from her face, "I'm a woman...well, I mean, compared to your age, I'm not, but you know what I mean...and I have touch. So I brought some paint and stuff..." she chewed on a fingernail.
He stood silent for a moment as she watched him, quiet, eyes eager. Then his face broke into a smile, "Well, Red, I think you deserve a reward..." he stepped closer to her, leaning in close.
Quite suddenly, she jumped to the side, causing him to stumble. She pretended not to notice, but instead focused on the muted TV.
"Hey! Your TV's all better!" she yelped, her voice high and nervous.
"Yea...Xander gave me some greasy guy's number..." he said, fixing her with a confused look. But before he could say anything more, she burst out again.
"You're watching QVC?! I mean, it's, " she glanced at her watch, "2 in the afternoon! Passions is on! You shouldn't be watching this junk, it's like a perpetual commercial. No one watches this but moms and gay guys*" she said, picking up the remote and playing with it, "I mean, I'm not implying that you're gay...Of course, if you are, gay's okay! I mean..."
He stared intensely at her and walked closer, holding her gaze. She stopped talking and looked back at him, a mixture of fear and longing in her green eyes. He bent down, close to her face,
"I'm not gay," he said with a smile, "and I can prove it to you if you'd like."
"Umm...sounds very tempting, but I'll.....see you later!" with that she swept out the door.
Spike plunked down on his makeshift bed and lit another cigarette.
"Damn."
Spike sighed and lit another cigarette, tossing the burnt out butt of the last one into the growing pile on the floor beside him. He stared at the muted TV, letting the smoke run out his nostrils and curl about his face like ghostly snakes.
"Dammit, Spike, you're getting soft," he barked out a laugh and shook his head, waving the cigarette around in the air, "What in bloody Hell's name was that yesterday?" he laughed again and tried to shake away the memory...his finger tracing the delicate arch of her cheek bone, his cold hands on her face...
A soft, cautious knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts. He hoped off his "bed" and stomped the cancer stick out on the cold floor.
"Who's there?"
In response, the door opened and in stepped...Willow, holding two heavy looking bags.
"Red?" he blurted, "What the hell are you doing here?" instinctively, he moved to help her with the bags, but she pulled them away and sat them atop a coffin.
"You know, most people say 'come in' and 'nice to see you,' not 'who's there?' and 'what the hell are you doing here,'" she said, miffed.
"Sorry...didn't mean to be...rude," he said, stepping behind her to look over her shoulder at the bags. He languished in the moment, tracing the elegant curve of her neck with his eyes and inhaling the faint, sweet smell of her shampoo. She turned suddenly and jumped, startled to see him so close. He quickly stepped back and looked away.
"So, what's in the bags?" he asked, still staring at the floor intently.
She pulled something out of one of the bags, "Well...I know it's hard for you to get out a lot-" she paused, checking to see if she had offended him. His face was passive so she continued, "So I stopped by the butcher's shop and picked you up some cow and pig blood. I wasn't sure which one you prefer, so I got equal amounts of both and put them in these cute little labeled packets."
He walked back toward her to survey her work. She looked up at him eagerly, chewing on her bottom lip. He was careful not to show any emotion, but instead inquired,
"What'd the butcher say?"
Willow smiled and shrugged, "I told him I was having guests over for a French dinner, he turned kinda green when I asked for blood and didn't really talk after that," she paused, "maybe he should look into a different field."
Spike nodded slightly and glanced at the second bag, "What's in there?"
"Oh..." she blushed slightly, "I heard Giles say that you said your apartment quote 'could use a woman's touch'" she shrugged and brushed some loose strands of auburn hair from her face, "I'm a woman...well, I mean, compared to your age, I'm not, but you know what I mean...and I have touch. So I brought some paint and stuff..." she chewed on a fingernail.
He stood silent for a moment as she watched him, quiet, eyes eager. Then his face broke into a smile, "Well, Red, I think you deserve a reward..." he stepped closer to her, leaning in close.
Quite suddenly, she jumped to the side, causing him to stumble. She pretended not to notice, but instead focused on the muted TV.
"Hey! Your TV's all better!" she yelped, her voice high and nervous.
"Yea...Xander gave me some greasy guy's number..." he said, fixing her with a confused look. But before he could say anything more, she burst out again.
"You're watching QVC?! I mean, it's, " she glanced at her watch, "2 in the afternoon! Passions is on! You shouldn't be watching this junk, it's like a perpetual commercial. No one watches this but moms and gay guys*" she said, picking up the remote and playing with it, "I mean, I'm not implying that you're gay...Of course, if you are, gay's okay! I mean..."
He stared intensely at her and walked closer, holding her gaze. She stopped talking and looked back at him, a mixture of fear and longing in her green eyes. He bent down, close to her face,
"I'm not gay," he said with a smile, "and I can prove it to you if you'd like."
"Umm...sounds very tempting, but I'll.....see you later!" with that she swept out the door.
Spike plunked down on his makeshift bed and lit another cigarette.
"Damn."
***
Oz kicked at one of his tires as he filled up the gas tank of the van. He sighed and looked around, squinting in the brilliant sunlight. He shucked his jacket into the passenger seat and stretched. It had been unseasonably warm this year.
His surroundings were becoming familiar...he was close on entering Sunnydale. With one final sip of his soda, he chucked it into a bottle bin and hopped into the drivers seat, gunning up the engine.
The sounds of Third Eye Blind's "I'll Never Let You Go" met his ears.
He smiled to himself. When he got back to Willow, he's never let her go again.
Turning onto the road, he paused to think for a moment...Perhaps she'd have a new love? A boyfriend? His spirits sagged at the very thought...what if she didn't love him anymore? What if he'd been away to long?
He hesitated, then shrugged, perhaps. But he was willing to fight to get her back...
TBC
*I have nothing against gays, in fact most gay people I've met, I like. One of best friend is a homosexual. Please don't flame me!