Comment: Please, PLEASE don't make me explain :)) Chapter 3 coming up soon.
Chapter 2
He was awake. Leaning against the slate on which Willow had expected to find him stretched out, he was looking straight at her when she came though the door. Hands in his pockets, wearing his customary black jeans and T-shirt.
Willow flinched and dropped the key. While she fumbled for it on the floor, she felt an absurd flush rise to her cheeks and stammered: "Oh, I- I didn't think you'd be awake, I... I didn't mean to...to..." Then her small fist closed around the key. Willow shook her head, stood up, faced Spike and decided that she would rather not speak at all than do that pitiful stammering number again. What was going on with her these days? Must be the weather...
"How are you today, Red?"
"Great, thanks. How are you, Spike?"
"Oh, splendid." His tone was casual, but his eyes were unrelenting, fixed on her face without even so much as a blink. "What brings you to my humble doorstep on this fine day?"
"Oh, it's not so fine, really." Willow tried to ease the tension by moving forward and sitting on the floor, to the left of the slate that occupied the centre of the crypt. Now the shadow protected her from Spike's stare. She had come here often in last weeks, and never had he looked at her like this. Was he angry? Did her company bore him?
"It's very hot. I suppose there's a storm coming. My head felt all muddy, so I went for a walk, and then I figured it would be cool inside here. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude or anything. I thought you'd be asleep."
"You're not intruding, Red. My crypt is your crypt." The touch of genuine humour in Spike's voice filled Willow with a measure of relief. Maybe he wasn't staring at her at all, maybe she was just imaginging things. Too much brooding on her own lately, and then the dazed walk though the seamingly dead town...
"So, how was yesterday night?"
Again the furious rush of heat to her face. But the shadows protected her, he couldn't see her, he couldn't see her...
"Yesterday night? What do you mean?"
"You went out, didn't you?"
"Why do you say that?"
"This is not an interrogation, Red." Well, but that's exactly how it looks like, Spike, Willow thought. What is it you want from me?
Spike bent his head to light a cigarette, but somehow his eyes never left Willow's face, and she could feel them piercing her skin even through the shadows. Eyes blue as a true heart, she thought suddenly. Where had she heard that line? Was it a song? A poem?
"It's just a friendly question. Did you have a good time? Meet someone nice?"
"Well, I hate to disappoint you, Spike, but the fact is that I WAS alone in my room all night long, and if this is some kind of joke, I'm sorry but I'm missing the point."
Spike moved for the first time since Willow had stepped into the crypt. He turned his back to her. Now he wasn't looking at her anymore, and his voice was hard and much lower than usual.
"I AM disappointed, Willow. I am."
"But why? What's the matter, Spike? I really was in my room, and I don't understand-"
Still not looking at her, he spoke the words fiercely, almost spitting them out.
"I could FEEL it, Willow. All of it. You can't lie to me, remember? I can feel you cringing at this very moment."
Willow was silent.
"But I suppose you would. After all, I'm evil, worse than an animal. I don't deserve the truth."
Willow stood up and stepped out of the shadow.
"William."
Spike didn't answer. For a moment, Willow felt the temptation to turn around, run out of the crypt, run and run and run for miles, until she reached a place where she would never have to see him, never speak to him again, where this cursed bond couldn't reach her. The shame was too overwhelming.
But she knew that such a place didn't exist, and she also knew that even if it existed, that was not where she wanted to be. Because here was where she wanted to be, right here and right now, and Willow realised that she was willing to risk much more than just the shame. Shame was a small price to pay for what she had seen in Spike's eyes when she had stepped through that door: anger, hopelessness, desire. That was what she wanted: whatever those eyes, eyes blue as a true heart, had to offer.
Willow took one more step forward and said." I WAS alone, William."
"Oh, Willow..." Spike felt too tired to answer, to be exasperated or frustrated by her stubborness.
One more step. And another. And another. Until she stood close enough to put her hands on his shoulders and turn him around to face her.
"Listen to me, just listen. Yesterday night I... I felt- everything you felt, but I - WAS - ALONE. Do you understand?" Please, please don't make me explain...
Confusion crossed Spike's face. Then he blinked once. Then twice.
"Oh..."
"Yes, oh."
"You were... alone."
"Yes. And I had forgotten everything about that stupid bond." Willow hesitated and added: "I was lonely, and- "
Spike interrupted her hastily. "You don't have to explain anything."
"I know."
"I had no right to lash out at you like that. If you were with someone and didn't want to tell me, that's none of my bloody business."
"I know that, too."
He began to pace, dropped his cigarette and fumbled for another. But just as Willow had felt his smile through the protecting shadows, now she felt his smile. It was a smile of relief. He was happy, happy that she hadn't spent the night with someone else. And his happiness made her happy, his smile made her smile.
Neither of them brought up the subject of the previous night again. In fact, they didn't speak much at all during the remainder of the afternoon. They just sat on the floor, with their backs against the wall, and shared the silence. Willow's last thought before she dozed off, her head on Spike's shoulder, was "maybe this bond works in more ways than even HE knows. Maybe..."
Chapter 2
He was awake. Leaning against the slate on which Willow had expected to find him stretched out, he was looking straight at her when she came though the door. Hands in his pockets, wearing his customary black jeans and T-shirt.
Willow flinched and dropped the key. While she fumbled for it on the floor, she felt an absurd flush rise to her cheeks and stammered: "Oh, I- I didn't think you'd be awake, I... I didn't mean to...to..." Then her small fist closed around the key. Willow shook her head, stood up, faced Spike and decided that she would rather not speak at all than do that pitiful stammering number again. What was going on with her these days? Must be the weather...
"How are you today, Red?"
"Great, thanks. How are you, Spike?"
"Oh, splendid." His tone was casual, but his eyes were unrelenting, fixed on her face without even so much as a blink. "What brings you to my humble doorstep on this fine day?"
"Oh, it's not so fine, really." Willow tried to ease the tension by moving forward and sitting on the floor, to the left of the slate that occupied the centre of the crypt. Now the shadow protected her from Spike's stare. She had come here often in last weeks, and never had he looked at her like this. Was he angry? Did her company bore him?
"It's very hot. I suppose there's a storm coming. My head felt all muddy, so I went for a walk, and then I figured it would be cool inside here. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude or anything. I thought you'd be asleep."
"You're not intruding, Red. My crypt is your crypt." The touch of genuine humour in Spike's voice filled Willow with a measure of relief. Maybe he wasn't staring at her at all, maybe she was just imaginging things. Too much brooding on her own lately, and then the dazed walk though the seamingly dead town...
"So, how was yesterday night?"
Again the furious rush of heat to her face. But the shadows protected her, he couldn't see her, he couldn't see her...
"Yesterday night? What do you mean?"
"You went out, didn't you?"
"Why do you say that?"
"This is not an interrogation, Red." Well, but that's exactly how it looks like, Spike, Willow thought. What is it you want from me?
Spike bent his head to light a cigarette, but somehow his eyes never left Willow's face, and she could feel them piercing her skin even through the shadows. Eyes blue as a true heart, she thought suddenly. Where had she heard that line? Was it a song? A poem?
"It's just a friendly question. Did you have a good time? Meet someone nice?"
"Well, I hate to disappoint you, Spike, but the fact is that I WAS alone in my room all night long, and if this is some kind of joke, I'm sorry but I'm missing the point."
Spike moved for the first time since Willow had stepped into the crypt. He turned his back to her. Now he wasn't looking at her anymore, and his voice was hard and much lower than usual.
"I AM disappointed, Willow. I am."
"But why? What's the matter, Spike? I really was in my room, and I don't understand-"
Still not looking at her, he spoke the words fiercely, almost spitting them out.
"I could FEEL it, Willow. All of it. You can't lie to me, remember? I can feel you cringing at this very moment."
Willow was silent.
"But I suppose you would. After all, I'm evil, worse than an animal. I don't deserve the truth."
Willow stood up and stepped out of the shadow.
"William."
Spike didn't answer. For a moment, Willow felt the temptation to turn around, run out of the crypt, run and run and run for miles, until she reached a place where she would never have to see him, never speak to him again, where this cursed bond couldn't reach her. The shame was too overwhelming.
But she knew that such a place didn't exist, and she also knew that even if it existed, that was not where she wanted to be. Because here was where she wanted to be, right here and right now, and Willow realised that she was willing to risk much more than just the shame. Shame was a small price to pay for what she had seen in Spike's eyes when she had stepped through that door: anger, hopelessness, desire. That was what she wanted: whatever those eyes, eyes blue as a true heart, had to offer.
Willow took one more step forward and said." I WAS alone, William."
"Oh, Willow..." Spike felt too tired to answer, to be exasperated or frustrated by her stubborness.
One more step. And another. And another. Until she stood close enough to put her hands on his shoulders and turn him around to face her.
"Listen to me, just listen. Yesterday night I... I felt- everything you felt, but I - WAS - ALONE. Do you understand?" Please, please don't make me explain...
Confusion crossed Spike's face. Then he blinked once. Then twice.
"Oh..."
"Yes, oh."
"You were... alone."
"Yes. And I had forgotten everything about that stupid bond." Willow hesitated and added: "I was lonely, and- "
Spike interrupted her hastily. "You don't have to explain anything."
"I know."
"I had no right to lash out at you like that. If you were with someone and didn't want to tell me, that's none of my bloody business."
"I know that, too."
He began to pace, dropped his cigarette and fumbled for another. But just as Willow had felt his smile through the protecting shadows, now she felt his smile. It was a smile of relief. He was happy, happy that she hadn't spent the night with someone else. And his happiness made her happy, his smile made her smile.
Neither of them brought up the subject of the previous night again. In fact, they didn't speak much at all during the remainder of the afternoon. They just sat on the floor, with their backs against the wall, and shared the silence. Willow's last thought before she dozed off, her head on Spike's shoulder, was "maybe this bond works in more ways than even HE knows. Maybe..."