Disclaimer: See part 1, or 6.
PART 9
(October 2001)
Spike crawled further through the sewer tunnel, cursing silently when his hand squished in something unidentifiable. He quickly wiped his hand on his pant leg and sat back on his heels, listening. He was going to need one hell of a long, hot shower when he got out of here. When he heard only silence, he peered around the tunnel entrance. The demon he'd followed in here was kneeling in the middle of the tunnel, head bowed and arms folded in supplication.
Spike was sure that this was the demon that had killed Buffy and the others. He was sure, because he was staring at himself, except for the color of his clothes. An exact replica. The demon's head suddenly turned toward him, and, as he watched, the demon shimmered and morphed into Drusilla.
Spike sucked in a breath and held it as the demon Dru stood up and moved in his direction. A secret smile lit her face, and her long dark hair swayed as she approached him. Spike stood up, staring at the vision of his first love.
Halfway to him, Dru halted for a second, regarding him curiously. Then her hair lightened, turning blonde, and she morphed into Buffy. He backed away, reminding himself that this wasn't Buffy, this was not the Slayer. Not the girl he loved. This was a demon. The demon that had killed Buffy.
Spike was here to kill her. It. To kill it in retaliation for Buffy and Dawn. Even Giles, Xander and Anya. And for what it had done to Willow.
Yet, he made no move toward it. In fact, he kept backing away from her. Being faced with a smiling, inviting Buffy was almost more than he could take. He wanted to go to her. Hold her. Touch her. Do everything he'd never gotten to do. Not to the real Buffy anyway. But he didn't. He backed away another step.
Once again, she halted, tilting her head to the side. Her blue eyes blinked once. Twice. And then she was shimmering again. Her hair shortened. Turned red. Willow.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, backing into the tunnel wall. What the hell was with this thing? Was it going to take on the form of every woman he'd ever known? Who was next? Joyce? Darla?
When he opened his eyes again, Willow was standing right in front of him. Just as Dru and Buffy had done, she smiled at him in invitation. Then she pressed herself against him, and pulled his head down for a kiss.
That broke the spell. If it had been Dru or Buffy who kissed him, Spike wouldn't have had a chance. But this was Willow, and he didn't think of her like that.
Yeah, right, he scoffed.
Well, okay, she didn't think of him like that then. There. Explained away.
He slid a stake out of his duster pocket and pressed it against her chest. She took a few steps back and stared at the stake. Her smile turned into a sneer. "You think that will kill me?" she asked in Willow's voice.
Spike shrugged. "Bound to do some damage. If it's not permanent, that only means I get to hurt you twice."
Big talk for a vampire cowering against the wall of a sewer tunnel, he thought.
Fake Willow laughed lightly at his bravado. "I've set things in motion and you're trying to interfere. Stay out of it."
"Why? So you can kill more people?" He took a step toward the shapeshifter and tossed his stake from hand to hand. His smile was light, pleasant. "What are you doing? Opening the Hellmouth? Raising a demon who thinks he's the next coming of Elvis?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Interfere, and this," she motioned to her form, "will die. I don't think you want that." She smirked at him and tapped his chest. "You care for her. Just as you cared for the other forms I took."
Spike snorted. "Your psychic abilities tell you that? 'Cause if they did, I'd ask for a refund." He swung the stake into his left hand, brought it up suddenly, and shoved it into Willow's chest. She gasped in surprise, then waved her hand in the air in front of them.
The air shimmered, and suddenly Spike saw Willow. The real Willow. She was at her parent's house, kissing Tara goodbye. Tara waved as she went down the walk. Willow shut the door and took two steps into the living room before collapsing to her knees, her face a mask of pain. She grabbed her chest, gasping for air.
Spike looked down at the Willow in front of him as she grabbed his hand with both of hers and pushed the stake further into her chest. As she did, the real Willow screamed and fell forward, catching herself with one hand, before sliding forward and collapsing to the carpet, unconscious.
Spike hesitated. He didn't know what to do. Kill the demon and possibly Willow? Or save Willow, leaving the demon alive?
He couldn't lose Willow too. He couldn't be completely alone.
With a growl of frustration, Spike yanked the stake out of the demon and the image disappeared. Her delighted laughter echoed through the tunnels as Spike ran back the way he'd first come.
"Hurry, vampire," Fake Willow taunted, still laughing. "Hurry."
(????)
Willow woke up in Spike's crypt, laying on his bed. He was nowhere in sight, but she heard his lighter snap shut and smelled cigarette smoke. She smiled, remembering their night of lovemaking, and stretched contentedly, yawning.
"I dreamed I went back to my own time, and you didn't remember, um, you know. Makes a girl self-conscious. I didn't tell you anything, but, boy were you curious," she told him, rolling over.
He was standing a few feet away, the ever present cigarette in his mouth, leaning against the wall, watching her. His face was blank, his eyes guarded. "Was I?"
She frowned. "What's wrong?" A thought struck her suddenly and she sat up, looking down at herself. She was fully clothed. Oh, God. Her eyes flew to the unbroken chair, then slid shut. Oh, God.
When she opened her eyes again, he was still there. Still watching her. Still smoking. She pasted a grin on her face. "Gotcha."
He pushed away from the wall and approached her slowly, shaking his head. "Nice try, Willow." He stood directly in front of her and dropped his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it. Suddenly he grinned, and pulled her toward him, kissing her soundly on the mouth. "Gotcha. How'd you get back here, love?"
Willow was so surprised that her Spike had just kissed her, that she didn't even hear his question. "Wh-- what?" she asked, pushing him away. He was playing with her. Had to be. Acting like Spike from the past, trying to get her to tell him what had happened between them. That's what this was.
"How'd you get back here?" He kissed her again, chuckling. "Bloody hell, pet, past you is a bit of a stick in the mud. You won't even talk to me unless one of the others are around." He pulled her up against him and held her. She closed her eyes and sighed. This felt good.
He was right, a year ago she'd avoided him at pretty much all costs. He'd made her nervous. Chipped or not, she had still been afraid of him. And a bit attracted to him. But this wasn't that Spike, and she wasn't back in time again. The chair wasn't broken. Did he really think she was that gullible?
He pulled back, looking at her expectantly, his smile slipping a bit when she stayed silent. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head with a small smile. "Nothing. Well, except for you kissing me. 'Cause... um, why did you?" Yeah, way to convince your Spike that had never happened before.
His jaw did that oh-so-sexy tightening thing, and she found herself having sudden breathing problems.
"What's the date?" he asked.
What was he up to? "October, two thousand and one."
His grin was back. "Then what's the problem? Last I saw you, you were naked in my bed, now you're asking me why I kissed you?"
She gasped. How had he guessed? And 'til the end, she would deny it. "I was never naked in your bed. What are you talking about?" She frowned at him in concern. "Are you feeling all right? Are you sick?" Ugh, she hated to lie like this, but she couldn't lose him as a friend. And surely she would lose him if he found out the truth.
He studied her for a moment, then shook his head angrily. "Bloody hell! I can't get a break, can I?" He flung himself down in his chair and her eyes widened when it suddenly lurched forward, the front leg falling away.
Not stopping to examine why she was so happy to be back with the old Spike, Willow jumped down from his bed, ran over to him and stood there grinning. She was tempted to jump into his lap, just to surprise him, but she wasn't quite that bold. "You're you? I mean, really you? Oh, I guess it helps if I tell you which 'you' I mean. Um, past you. Year two thousand you."
He nodded guardedly, and pulled her onto his lap. When she didn't resist, he kissed her, crushing her to him as if he never wanted to let her go. "That'd be me," he whispered against her mouth, before kissing a path down her neck.
Her senses leapt to life with each touch of his lips on hers, and a tingle of excitement pulsed through her. She didn't understand how or why he affected her this way, especially since her Spike--future Spike--didn't have this same affect on her. To some degree, it was there, the magnetism between them, the desire, on her part. But this raw want, and need? It wasn't present in her Spike.
"Spike?" she breathed. His lips were tracing a path down her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
"Yeah, love?" His hands slid under her shirt.
"Spike." She pushed his hands away and pulled back slightly. "When is it? The time now, I mean."
His hands dropped to her waist, holding her on his lap as she weakly tried to get up. He sighed and made a show of rolling his eyes. "Three weeks since you left. Three weeks of hell. The you that's here doesn't even like me," he pouted.
She giggled. "You're such a drama queen." His hands started their upward mobility again, and she halted them on her stomach. "It's not that I didn't like you, it's just that... well, I was afraid of you. And... in case you've never looked in a mirror... which, okay, duh, you haven't, but you're pretty much a hottie. Which made me nervous, because good looking guys don't flock to me for any reason except to kill me or kidnap me." She raised an eyebrow at him pointedly, and he managed to look ashamed. "So I just stayed away."
"Yeah, I know about the fear, your heart starts racing every time I go near you. But it's more than that."
Willow frowned. "Maybe it's something you changed. Oh, did you change anything? 'Cause, when I got back nothing was different."
He shifted slightly in the chair. "Yeah. I changed some stuff."
"Uh-oh. What did you do?" She groaned loudly. She should have left the pages with someone else. This was Spike, duh. Selfish. Could care less about any of them. Future Spike had warned her that he had hated her back then. Back now. She was sitting on the lap of the vampire who hated her. She tried to climb off him again, but he held her there. He wrapped his arms around her waist and sighed contentedly. She felt his lips on her hair.
"I didn't do anything bad," he mumbled. "I just... well, okay, if you want to get technical, I didn't do much of anything. Jonathan's world sucked by the way. Why didn't the slayer kill him?"
Since he didn't seem to want to let her go any time soon, she relaxed and snuggled up against him. "Let's start at the beginning then. Did you help Buffy with the creature?"
"Not directly. I saved your witch pal, though. Without getting so much as a thank you from you, I'll add."
She sat up in surprise, smiling at him. "Really? You saved Tara from that thing?" She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he grumbled good-naturedly. He settled her back down in his arms, caressing her back. "Didn't do a lot of good. I got there too late, and only ended up rescuing her from a closet."
"Still, thank you," she said sincerely. "What else did you do?"
"Saved you from the ghost in the bathroom."
"Oh," she giggled. "That was weird, huh? That whole lust thing that Buffy and Riley were generating."
"Is that what it was? I was going to help save them, but--"
She sat up. "Doesn't matter. It all turned out okay. The only important one, the only thing that absolutely has to be changed, is their deaths."
His arms tightened around her. "So, you're all alone then?"
"No. You're there. And Tara. Ow! Spike, let go." His arms squeezed her so tight she could barely breathe. She pried his arms off of her and jumped to her feet.
He got to his feet as well, his eyes snapping with anger. "You're still with Stutter Girl? Why?"
"Don't call her that. And I told you when I was here last time that I was with her. I love her."
Spike snorted rudely. "Yeah, right, you love her. If you love her so much what were you doing on my lap just now? With my hands up your shirt? And how about the last time you were here. Didn't see you protesting too hard when I was--"
"Shut up." She already felt guilty enough about her actions, she didn't need him to remind her. "It was a one time thing. Definitely not gonna happen again. Ever."
Spike stalked away from her, his boots crunching angrily on the stone floor. "So letting a guy feel you up is okay, we just can't have sex, is that it?"
Willow glared at his back for a second before sighing, and taking a step toward him. "No, it's not like that. I love Tara, and in my time, I have her. I don't have you because... he doesn't remember what you and I did, and he loves Buffy."
Spike turned back, frowning. "Why doesn't he remember?"
Willow shrugged. "I don't know, I don't get it either."
He fixed the chair leg and sat down, motioning for her to join him. She knew she shouldn't. She wasn't going to either. But she did. She went to him and let him pull her onto his lap again. He cradled her face in his hands. "If he did remember... would you still be with the witch?"
That was a question she hadn't even considered. What would she do? Was it even up to her? Past her would probably make the choice for her. "I don't know," she answered truthfully, sighing. "I want you, that's something I can't hide from you. But, future you doesn't seem to notice."
"He knows," Spike assured her. "He'd have to be deaf, blind and dumb not to notice. And I can guarantee he wants you too."
She sighed sadly. "No, he doesn't."
"He does." He pulled her down for a kiss, touching her lips softly, and whispering, "I do. Now." He shifted a bit in the chair and pulled away just enough for her to see the truth in his eyes. He sat forward suddenly and moved her around so she was straddling him, then slid her hand down and pressed it against his erection.
Willow bit her lip. She couldn't do this again. Fighting the desire spreading through her, she looked away from him. Hopefully she would fare better at turning him down this time. She had a girlfriend. She loved Tara. Spike was just a friend. A very attractive friend who was rubbing her hand against his erection.
"I can't," she whispered miserably. Was she a hussy for wanting him so much? Desire rushed through her just from seeing him, from hearing his voice... a look, a smile, a touch, and she wanted him so badly she was willing to throw away what she had with Tara. Why couldn't she stop herself from wanting him?
He hates you, she told herself.
But her body wasn't listening. He doesn't hate me, not anymore. He can't. Not if he wants me. Right?
She looked up into his passion-filled face. If he did, he was hiding it well. Unlike her. She couldn't hide her desire for him at all.
"You can," he insisted, sliding his hands inside her shirt again. His thumbs brushed against the undersides of her breasts and she moaned. Both hands moved down her legs to the edge of her skirt, making her shiver. He pushed her skirt up to her waist, and slid his hands inside her panties.
She gasped sharply. "I shouldn't." One last weak attempt at halting things before they went too far.
He chuckled in her ear, knowing he had her. Or would. "You should." His hands moved around her back and unhooked her bra. Pushing the bra out of his way, he leaned forward, lifting her shirt, and ran his tongue along her nipple, teasing her before moving back down to her panties. He ripped them in half and pulled them off of her.
"Oh, God, I am," she agreed.
Willow could feel his impatience, and it spurred her on as well. She kissed him deeply, cradling his face in her hands. His hands left her for a few seconds, then suddenly spanned her waist, lifting her up. Her eyes flew open when she felt him sliding into her.
He sat back and waggled his eyebrows, grinning at her. "Use me, baby. Feel free to shag me to death... I can take it."
Willow groaned good-naturedly. "Jokes? Now?"
He grinned and looked up at the ceiling. "Well? I'm waiting here... you gonna shag me or not?"
Willow laughed softly. "Yes, sir."
Not sure how to go about this without making a fool out of herself, Willow bit her lip, and dove in. She raised up and slid back down slowly, her inner muscles clenching in response to the friction, and just the feeling of him inside of her.
Spike groaned, and grabbed her waist, but didn't move her. He was giving her complete control. Unusual thing for a vampire to give up, she thought.
But that didn't stop him from pulling her against him, and kissing her hungrily. "Take it away," he whispered.
She lifted herself again, and sank back down, faster this time, feeling like she was melting. Her hands moved around to his back, clawing the pale flesh. He was so deep inside her that she felt like he was touching her soul. Every movement, every sigh, every breath, drew him deeper, and she felt like he was devouring her. Body and soul. Mouth and heart.
Every inch of her was explored by his gentle hands. She tried to return the favor, but it was hard to keep up a rhythm and explore him at the same time. She was driving herself to the edge, trying to reach that pinnacle. His mouth left hers to settle in the crook of her neck. This time she knew what he was doing, and encouraged him with a hand to his head. She ran her hands through his short blonde hair, reveling in the feel of Spike... just being able to touch him again after being denied him for so long.
He didn't bite her in the neck, as she'd expected him to do. Instead, he lifted his head and grinned at her, then leaned her backwards, supporting her with his hands at her back, and leaned down to lick her left breast. She gasped, arching against him, holding him there. His teeth pierced the firm skin before sliding in unresisting. Though he was taking her blood, which she should have found disgusting, Willow felt like he was giving her something when he did it.
Himself.
She tightened around him, wanting to bring him pleasure before she found her own, but he had other ideas. He sucked at her blood, teasing the nipple of her breasts with his thumbs, and thrust his hips, sliding his length into her, and driving her over the edge. She screamed his name, needing him to know that it was for him. Only him. She fell back limply, trusting him to catch her.
He continued to move inside her, and draw out her blood, but it was only a minute later that he drew her into him and went still, moaning her name as he came.
She stroked his back lazily, waiting for him to recover. His chest rose and fell against hers in a parody of breathing. It was weird to see and feel, coming as it did, from Spike, a vampire that didn't need to breathe, but it was comforting.
After a few minutes, she stood up, feeling the loss when he slid out of her, and straightened her skirt and blouse, re-hooking her bra. He did up his jeans as she looked around for her panties. When she didn't find them, she shrugged, and sat back down, curling up against him.
She laid her head on his bare chest and sighed contentedly.
Spike kissed her forehead softly, and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. "Damn, I'm good," he said with a chuckle.
Willow hit him on the shoulder with a laugh. "Cocky, aren't we?"
"Well... some of us are. The rest just use it when they want it." He pulled back and leered at her.
She snorted. "Yep, you've discovered my secret. I'm using you for your... um--"
"Bits?" he suggested, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to his bed, where he laid her down with a quick kiss.
"Bits. Yep. That's it." She rolled over on her side, watching him.
She loved this. Just talking and joking around with him... it always made her feel special. Vampires had no time or patience for humans, especially Spike. But, this past year, he had actually seemed to seek her out. Probably, at first, because she was a connection to Buffy, but as time went on, they became friends. And though she thought she'd left her need to be accepted back in high school, she knew, when Spike finally did accept her, that it had been there all along. Everyone had a need for acceptance, and it wasn't something that went away once you left your childhood behind.
Spike lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, watching her. Her eyes fell on the scar on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, and she remembered her Spike's reaction to her knowing about it. Not quite ready to tackle the big one, she asked him about the round, dime-sized scar on his thigh.
"Knitting needle," he said with a shrug.
That was one of the last things she'd expected to hear him say. She sat up, sitting cross-legged. "Someone stabbed you with a... knitting needle?" she giggled. "Why?"
His eyes never left hers as he said, "Didn't want to be dinner." She knew he was gauging her reaction to his former life. And she wanted to smile and say, 'That's nice' and move on, but she couldn't.
Here again was another forceful reminder that Spike was a vampire. She'd almost forgotten. Wanted to forget. When he vamped out while fighting other demons, when he scared her by threatening her... even when she felt him bite into her during sex, she managed to forget that he was an evil demon. If she didn't remember that part, she would only have to justify cheating on her girlfriend, instead of justifying cheating on her girlfriend with a demon.
But, future Spike wasn't evil. He was still a demon, but he loved Buffy. Had nearly died for her. He cared for all of them. And they cared for him. So, even if he got his bite back... would he go back to killing? Yes. But would he go back to it so easily? Would it bother him? Willow thought it just might. Not as much as it would bother a human, but she was sure it would a little bit.
His expression was solemn, almost... wary. Did he care what she thought about him? Or did he simply care that she might not sleep with him again? Not wanting to get into another argument right now, she simply nodded, accepting facts.
Spike looked relieved that she didn't pursue the matter. Her gaze fell on the long jagged scar on his stomach, and she raised questioning eyes to him. His hand rubbed at it absently as the smoke from his cigarette curled around him.
"You mean I didn't tell you about that too?" She shook her head, not elaborating. "I'm not surprised," he said with a shrug.
A minute of silence passed. "You're not going to tell me either, are you?"
"No."
She was even more curious now. What could be so terrible that a vampire wasn't willing to talk about his battle scars? Swinging her legs over the edge, she jumped down. She would just find out later. Maybe from her Spike.
"So... how about them Broncos?" she asked, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen.
Spike's chest shook with laughter and she grinned, joining him on the other side of the crypt. He wrapped his arms around her back and held her. She sighed, a feeling of contentment settling over her. That contentment was shattered a moment later when pain shot through her chest. Her legs gave out and Spike had to support her. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.
"Willow, what's wrong? What--" Another wave of pain made her cry out in agony. Spike reached out to hold her, but his hands passed right through her, and then everything went black.
PART 9
(October 2001)
Spike crawled further through the sewer tunnel, cursing silently when his hand squished in something unidentifiable. He quickly wiped his hand on his pant leg and sat back on his heels, listening. He was going to need one hell of a long, hot shower when he got out of here. When he heard only silence, he peered around the tunnel entrance. The demon he'd followed in here was kneeling in the middle of the tunnel, head bowed and arms folded in supplication.
Spike was sure that this was the demon that had killed Buffy and the others. He was sure, because he was staring at himself, except for the color of his clothes. An exact replica. The demon's head suddenly turned toward him, and, as he watched, the demon shimmered and morphed into Drusilla.
Spike sucked in a breath and held it as the demon Dru stood up and moved in his direction. A secret smile lit her face, and her long dark hair swayed as she approached him. Spike stood up, staring at the vision of his first love.
Halfway to him, Dru halted for a second, regarding him curiously. Then her hair lightened, turning blonde, and she morphed into Buffy. He backed away, reminding himself that this wasn't Buffy, this was not the Slayer. Not the girl he loved. This was a demon. The demon that had killed Buffy.
Spike was here to kill her. It. To kill it in retaliation for Buffy and Dawn. Even Giles, Xander and Anya. And for what it had done to Willow.
Yet, he made no move toward it. In fact, he kept backing away from her. Being faced with a smiling, inviting Buffy was almost more than he could take. He wanted to go to her. Hold her. Touch her. Do everything he'd never gotten to do. Not to the real Buffy anyway. But he didn't. He backed away another step.
Once again, she halted, tilting her head to the side. Her blue eyes blinked once. Twice. And then she was shimmering again. Her hair shortened. Turned red. Willow.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, backing into the tunnel wall. What the hell was with this thing? Was it going to take on the form of every woman he'd ever known? Who was next? Joyce? Darla?
When he opened his eyes again, Willow was standing right in front of him. Just as Dru and Buffy had done, she smiled at him in invitation. Then she pressed herself against him, and pulled his head down for a kiss.
That broke the spell. If it had been Dru or Buffy who kissed him, Spike wouldn't have had a chance. But this was Willow, and he didn't think of her like that.
Yeah, right, he scoffed.
Well, okay, she didn't think of him like that then. There. Explained away.
He slid a stake out of his duster pocket and pressed it against her chest. She took a few steps back and stared at the stake. Her smile turned into a sneer. "You think that will kill me?" she asked in Willow's voice.
Spike shrugged. "Bound to do some damage. If it's not permanent, that only means I get to hurt you twice."
Big talk for a vampire cowering against the wall of a sewer tunnel, he thought.
Fake Willow laughed lightly at his bravado. "I've set things in motion and you're trying to interfere. Stay out of it."
"Why? So you can kill more people?" He took a step toward the shapeshifter and tossed his stake from hand to hand. His smile was light, pleasant. "What are you doing? Opening the Hellmouth? Raising a demon who thinks he's the next coming of Elvis?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Interfere, and this," she motioned to her form, "will die. I don't think you want that." She smirked at him and tapped his chest. "You care for her. Just as you cared for the other forms I took."
Spike snorted. "Your psychic abilities tell you that? 'Cause if they did, I'd ask for a refund." He swung the stake into his left hand, brought it up suddenly, and shoved it into Willow's chest. She gasped in surprise, then waved her hand in the air in front of them.
The air shimmered, and suddenly Spike saw Willow. The real Willow. She was at her parent's house, kissing Tara goodbye. Tara waved as she went down the walk. Willow shut the door and took two steps into the living room before collapsing to her knees, her face a mask of pain. She grabbed her chest, gasping for air.
Spike looked down at the Willow in front of him as she grabbed his hand with both of hers and pushed the stake further into her chest. As she did, the real Willow screamed and fell forward, catching herself with one hand, before sliding forward and collapsing to the carpet, unconscious.
Spike hesitated. He didn't know what to do. Kill the demon and possibly Willow? Or save Willow, leaving the demon alive?
He couldn't lose Willow too. He couldn't be completely alone.
With a growl of frustration, Spike yanked the stake out of the demon and the image disappeared. Her delighted laughter echoed through the tunnels as Spike ran back the way he'd first come.
"Hurry, vampire," Fake Willow taunted, still laughing. "Hurry."
(????)
Willow woke up in Spike's crypt, laying on his bed. He was nowhere in sight, but she heard his lighter snap shut and smelled cigarette smoke. She smiled, remembering their night of lovemaking, and stretched contentedly, yawning.
"I dreamed I went back to my own time, and you didn't remember, um, you know. Makes a girl self-conscious. I didn't tell you anything, but, boy were you curious," she told him, rolling over.
He was standing a few feet away, the ever present cigarette in his mouth, leaning against the wall, watching her. His face was blank, his eyes guarded. "Was I?"
She frowned. "What's wrong?" A thought struck her suddenly and she sat up, looking down at herself. She was fully clothed. Oh, God. Her eyes flew to the unbroken chair, then slid shut. Oh, God.
When she opened her eyes again, he was still there. Still watching her. Still smoking. She pasted a grin on her face. "Gotcha."
He pushed away from the wall and approached her slowly, shaking his head. "Nice try, Willow." He stood directly in front of her and dropped his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it. Suddenly he grinned, and pulled her toward him, kissing her soundly on the mouth. "Gotcha. How'd you get back here, love?"
Willow was so surprised that her Spike had just kissed her, that she didn't even hear his question. "Wh-- what?" she asked, pushing him away. He was playing with her. Had to be. Acting like Spike from the past, trying to get her to tell him what had happened between them. That's what this was.
"How'd you get back here?" He kissed her again, chuckling. "Bloody hell, pet, past you is a bit of a stick in the mud. You won't even talk to me unless one of the others are around." He pulled her up against him and held her. She closed her eyes and sighed. This felt good.
He was right, a year ago she'd avoided him at pretty much all costs. He'd made her nervous. Chipped or not, she had still been afraid of him. And a bit attracted to him. But this wasn't that Spike, and she wasn't back in time again. The chair wasn't broken. Did he really think she was that gullible?
He pulled back, looking at her expectantly, his smile slipping a bit when she stayed silent. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head with a small smile. "Nothing. Well, except for you kissing me. 'Cause... um, why did you?" Yeah, way to convince your Spike that had never happened before.
His jaw did that oh-so-sexy tightening thing, and she found herself having sudden breathing problems.
"What's the date?" he asked.
What was he up to? "October, two thousand and one."
His grin was back. "Then what's the problem? Last I saw you, you were naked in my bed, now you're asking me why I kissed you?"
She gasped. How had he guessed? And 'til the end, she would deny it. "I was never naked in your bed. What are you talking about?" She frowned at him in concern. "Are you feeling all right? Are you sick?" Ugh, she hated to lie like this, but she couldn't lose him as a friend. And surely she would lose him if he found out the truth.
He studied her for a moment, then shook his head angrily. "Bloody hell! I can't get a break, can I?" He flung himself down in his chair and her eyes widened when it suddenly lurched forward, the front leg falling away.
Not stopping to examine why she was so happy to be back with the old Spike, Willow jumped down from his bed, ran over to him and stood there grinning. She was tempted to jump into his lap, just to surprise him, but she wasn't quite that bold. "You're you? I mean, really you? Oh, I guess it helps if I tell you which 'you' I mean. Um, past you. Year two thousand you."
He nodded guardedly, and pulled her onto his lap. When she didn't resist, he kissed her, crushing her to him as if he never wanted to let her go. "That'd be me," he whispered against her mouth, before kissing a path down her neck.
Her senses leapt to life with each touch of his lips on hers, and a tingle of excitement pulsed through her. She didn't understand how or why he affected her this way, especially since her Spike--future Spike--didn't have this same affect on her. To some degree, it was there, the magnetism between them, the desire, on her part. But this raw want, and need? It wasn't present in her Spike.
"Spike?" she breathed. His lips were tracing a path down her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
"Yeah, love?" His hands slid under her shirt.
"Spike." She pushed his hands away and pulled back slightly. "When is it? The time now, I mean."
His hands dropped to her waist, holding her on his lap as she weakly tried to get up. He sighed and made a show of rolling his eyes. "Three weeks since you left. Three weeks of hell. The you that's here doesn't even like me," he pouted.
She giggled. "You're such a drama queen." His hands started their upward mobility again, and she halted them on her stomach. "It's not that I didn't like you, it's just that... well, I was afraid of you. And... in case you've never looked in a mirror... which, okay, duh, you haven't, but you're pretty much a hottie. Which made me nervous, because good looking guys don't flock to me for any reason except to kill me or kidnap me." She raised an eyebrow at him pointedly, and he managed to look ashamed. "So I just stayed away."
"Yeah, I know about the fear, your heart starts racing every time I go near you. But it's more than that."
Willow frowned. "Maybe it's something you changed. Oh, did you change anything? 'Cause, when I got back nothing was different."
He shifted slightly in the chair. "Yeah. I changed some stuff."
"Uh-oh. What did you do?" She groaned loudly. She should have left the pages with someone else. This was Spike, duh. Selfish. Could care less about any of them. Future Spike had warned her that he had hated her back then. Back now. She was sitting on the lap of the vampire who hated her. She tried to climb off him again, but he held her there. He wrapped his arms around her waist and sighed contentedly. She felt his lips on her hair.
"I didn't do anything bad," he mumbled. "I just... well, okay, if you want to get technical, I didn't do much of anything. Jonathan's world sucked by the way. Why didn't the slayer kill him?"
Since he didn't seem to want to let her go any time soon, she relaxed and snuggled up against him. "Let's start at the beginning then. Did you help Buffy with the creature?"
"Not directly. I saved your witch pal, though. Without getting so much as a thank you from you, I'll add."
She sat up in surprise, smiling at him. "Really? You saved Tara from that thing?" She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he grumbled good-naturedly. He settled her back down in his arms, caressing her back. "Didn't do a lot of good. I got there too late, and only ended up rescuing her from a closet."
"Still, thank you," she said sincerely. "What else did you do?"
"Saved you from the ghost in the bathroom."
"Oh," she giggled. "That was weird, huh? That whole lust thing that Buffy and Riley were generating."
"Is that what it was? I was going to help save them, but--"
She sat up. "Doesn't matter. It all turned out okay. The only important one, the only thing that absolutely has to be changed, is their deaths."
His arms tightened around her. "So, you're all alone then?"
"No. You're there. And Tara. Ow! Spike, let go." His arms squeezed her so tight she could barely breathe. She pried his arms off of her and jumped to her feet.
He got to his feet as well, his eyes snapping with anger. "You're still with Stutter Girl? Why?"
"Don't call her that. And I told you when I was here last time that I was with her. I love her."
Spike snorted rudely. "Yeah, right, you love her. If you love her so much what were you doing on my lap just now? With my hands up your shirt? And how about the last time you were here. Didn't see you protesting too hard when I was--"
"Shut up." She already felt guilty enough about her actions, she didn't need him to remind her. "It was a one time thing. Definitely not gonna happen again. Ever."
Spike stalked away from her, his boots crunching angrily on the stone floor. "So letting a guy feel you up is okay, we just can't have sex, is that it?"
Willow glared at his back for a second before sighing, and taking a step toward him. "No, it's not like that. I love Tara, and in my time, I have her. I don't have you because... he doesn't remember what you and I did, and he loves Buffy."
Spike turned back, frowning. "Why doesn't he remember?"
Willow shrugged. "I don't know, I don't get it either."
He fixed the chair leg and sat down, motioning for her to join him. She knew she shouldn't. She wasn't going to either. But she did. She went to him and let him pull her onto his lap again. He cradled her face in his hands. "If he did remember... would you still be with the witch?"
That was a question she hadn't even considered. What would she do? Was it even up to her? Past her would probably make the choice for her. "I don't know," she answered truthfully, sighing. "I want you, that's something I can't hide from you. But, future you doesn't seem to notice."
"He knows," Spike assured her. "He'd have to be deaf, blind and dumb not to notice. And I can guarantee he wants you too."
She sighed sadly. "No, he doesn't."
"He does." He pulled her down for a kiss, touching her lips softly, and whispering, "I do. Now." He shifted a bit in the chair and pulled away just enough for her to see the truth in his eyes. He sat forward suddenly and moved her around so she was straddling him, then slid her hand down and pressed it against his erection.
Willow bit her lip. She couldn't do this again. Fighting the desire spreading through her, she looked away from him. Hopefully she would fare better at turning him down this time. She had a girlfriend. She loved Tara. Spike was just a friend. A very attractive friend who was rubbing her hand against his erection.
"I can't," she whispered miserably. Was she a hussy for wanting him so much? Desire rushed through her just from seeing him, from hearing his voice... a look, a smile, a touch, and she wanted him so badly she was willing to throw away what she had with Tara. Why couldn't she stop herself from wanting him?
He hates you, she told herself.
But her body wasn't listening. He doesn't hate me, not anymore. He can't. Not if he wants me. Right?
She looked up into his passion-filled face. If he did, he was hiding it well. Unlike her. She couldn't hide her desire for him at all.
"You can," he insisted, sliding his hands inside her shirt again. His thumbs brushed against the undersides of her breasts and she moaned. Both hands moved down her legs to the edge of her skirt, making her shiver. He pushed her skirt up to her waist, and slid his hands inside her panties.
She gasped sharply. "I shouldn't." One last weak attempt at halting things before they went too far.
He chuckled in her ear, knowing he had her. Or would. "You should." His hands moved around her back and unhooked her bra. Pushing the bra out of his way, he leaned forward, lifting her shirt, and ran his tongue along her nipple, teasing her before moving back down to her panties. He ripped them in half and pulled them off of her.
"Oh, God, I am," she agreed.
Willow could feel his impatience, and it spurred her on as well. She kissed him deeply, cradling his face in her hands. His hands left her for a few seconds, then suddenly spanned her waist, lifting her up. Her eyes flew open when she felt him sliding into her.
He sat back and waggled his eyebrows, grinning at her. "Use me, baby. Feel free to shag me to death... I can take it."
Willow groaned good-naturedly. "Jokes? Now?"
He grinned and looked up at the ceiling. "Well? I'm waiting here... you gonna shag me or not?"
Willow laughed softly. "Yes, sir."
Not sure how to go about this without making a fool out of herself, Willow bit her lip, and dove in. She raised up and slid back down slowly, her inner muscles clenching in response to the friction, and just the feeling of him inside of her.
Spike groaned, and grabbed her waist, but didn't move her. He was giving her complete control. Unusual thing for a vampire to give up, she thought.
But that didn't stop him from pulling her against him, and kissing her hungrily. "Take it away," he whispered.
She lifted herself again, and sank back down, faster this time, feeling like she was melting. Her hands moved around to his back, clawing the pale flesh. He was so deep inside her that she felt like he was touching her soul. Every movement, every sigh, every breath, drew him deeper, and she felt like he was devouring her. Body and soul. Mouth and heart.
Every inch of her was explored by his gentle hands. She tried to return the favor, but it was hard to keep up a rhythm and explore him at the same time. She was driving herself to the edge, trying to reach that pinnacle. His mouth left hers to settle in the crook of her neck. This time she knew what he was doing, and encouraged him with a hand to his head. She ran her hands through his short blonde hair, reveling in the feel of Spike... just being able to touch him again after being denied him for so long.
He didn't bite her in the neck, as she'd expected him to do. Instead, he lifted his head and grinned at her, then leaned her backwards, supporting her with his hands at her back, and leaned down to lick her left breast. She gasped, arching against him, holding him there. His teeth pierced the firm skin before sliding in unresisting. Though he was taking her blood, which she should have found disgusting, Willow felt like he was giving her something when he did it.
Himself.
She tightened around him, wanting to bring him pleasure before she found her own, but he had other ideas. He sucked at her blood, teasing the nipple of her breasts with his thumbs, and thrust his hips, sliding his length into her, and driving her over the edge. She screamed his name, needing him to know that it was for him. Only him. She fell back limply, trusting him to catch her.
He continued to move inside her, and draw out her blood, but it was only a minute later that he drew her into him and went still, moaning her name as he came.
She stroked his back lazily, waiting for him to recover. His chest rose and fell against hers in a parody of breathing. It was weird to see and feel, coming as it did, from Spike, a vampire that didn't need to breathe, but it was comforting.
After a few minutes, she stood up, feeling the loss when he slid out of her, and straightened her skirt and blouse, re-hooking her bra. He did up his jeans as she looked around for her panties. When she didn't find them, she shrugged, and sat back down, curling up against him.
She laid her head on his bare chest and sighed contentedly.
Spike kissed her forehead softly, and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. "Damn, I'm good," he said with a chuckle.
Willow hit him on the shoulder with a laugh. "Cocky, aren't we?"
"Well... some of us are. The rest just use it when they want it." He pulled back and leered at her.
She snorted. "Yep, you've discovered my secret. I'm using you for your... um--"
"Bits?" he suggested, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to his bed, where he laid her down with a quick kiss.
"Bits. Yep. That's it." She rolled over on her side, watching him.
She loved this. Just talking and joking around with him... it always made her feel special. Vampires had no time or patience for humans, especially Spike. But, this past year, he had actually seemed to seek her out. Probably, at first, because she was a connection to Buffy, but as time went on, they became friends. And though she thought she'd left her need to be accepted back in high school, she knew, when Spike finally did accept her, that it had been there all along. Everyone had a need for acceptance, and it wasn't something that went away once you left your childhood behind.
Spike lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, watching her. Her eyes fell on the scar on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, and she remembered her Spike's reaction to her knowing about it. Not quite ready to tackle the big one, she asked him about the round, dime-sized scar on his thigh.
"Knitting needle," he said with a shrug.
That was one of the last things she'd expected to hear him say. She sat up, sitting cross-legged. "Someone stabbed you with a... knitting needle?" she giggled. "Why?"
His eyes never left hers as he said, "Didn't want to be dinner." She knew he was gauging her reaction to his former life. And she wanted to smile and say, 'That's nice' and move on, but she couldn't.
Here again was another forceful reminder that Spike was a vampire. She'd almost forgotten. Wanted to forget. When he vamped out while fighting other demons, when he scared her by threatening her... even when she felt him bite into her during sex, she managed to forget that he was an evil demon. If she didn't remember that part, she would only have to justify cheating on her girlfriend, instead of justifying cheating on her girlfriend with a demon.
But, future Spike wasn't evil. He was still a demon, but he loved Buffy. Had nearly died for her. He cared for all of them. And they cared for him. So, even if he got his bite back... would he go back to killing? Yes. But would he go back to it so easily? Would it bother him? Willow thought it just might. Not as much as it would bother a human, but she was sure it would a little bit.
His expression was solemn, almost... wary. Did he care what she thought about him? Or did he simply care that she might not sleep with him again? Not wanting to get into another argument right now, she simply nodded, accepting facts.
Spike looked relieved that she didn't pursue the matter. Her gaze fell on the long jagged scar on his stomach, and she raised questioning eyes to him. His hand rubbed at it absently as the smoke from his cigarette curled around him.
"You mean I didn't tell you about that too?" She shook her head, not elaborating. "I'm not surprised," he said with a shrug.
A minute of silence passed. "You're not going to tell me either, are you?"
"No."
She was even more curious now. What could be so terrible that a vampire wasn't willing to talk about his battle scars? Swinging her legs over the edge, she jumped down. She would just find out later. Maybe from her Spike.
"So... how about them Broncos?" she asked, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen.
Spike's chest shook with laughter and she grinned, joining him on the other side of the crypt. He wrapped his arms around her back and held her. She sighed, a feeling of contentment settling over her. That contentment was shattered a moment later when pain shot through her chest. Her legs gave out and Spike had to support her. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.
"Willow, what's wrong? What--" Another wave of pain made her cry out in agony. Spike reached out to hold her, but his hands passed right through her, and then everything went black.
