Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, 11, or 16.
PART 19
(November 2001)
Willow's eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring at Tara, who was staring at her with a worried look. Looking beyond her ex-girlfriend, she saw the Magic Box... which she hadn't been in since the night before everyone was killed. And, wow, look at all the dust and-- books on the floor?
"Willow. Are you all right?" Tara reached out tenderly to touch Willow's face, but then stopped with a sideways glance at Spike. "You had me-- us worried." Her voice lowered a little, and she moved closer to whisper, "Spike was really worried about you." A tremulous smile followed, and then she straightened up and moved back, giving Willow space.
Willow tossed a look at Spike too, and found him sleeping, or knocked out. "I'm fine," she told Tara. No thanks to Spike, she thought silently. What the heck had that big suckfest been about in there? Why had he bitten her so hard? So carelessly. So-- shaking her head at herself, she got to her feet. "Why's he still zonked?"
Tara shrugged. "Side effect of the spell, probably. Um, you know what? I don't really want to be here when he wakes up... I think I have issues, so, I'm just gonna go now." She paused and the smile was gone, replaced by her serious face. "I'm really glad you're safe, Willow."
Willow smiled broadly and hugged Tara tight, kissing her. There was no passion in the kiss, it was just a goodbye kiss. "Bye, Tara," Willow whispered, dropping her arms to her sides. "Thank you for... well, everything."
Tara shook her head. "I'll always be there, Willow. Whenever you need me. We're still friends, right?"
"Still friends," Willow assured her. "Be careful." A smile lifted her lips. "I hear there're bad things out there."
Tara smiled back, turning away with a wave. She gathered up some books, and then she was gone.
Left alone, except for the sleeping vampire, Willow went around the table picking up all the rest of the books that'd been thrown to the floor. Looked like a really intense research session had just occurred. A sad smile lifted her lips. She could almost imagine she heard Buffy in the training room, beating the stuffing out of Xander in the puffy suit. Could almost hear Xander's grunts of pain, and his distant voice as he tried to get out of being her human punching bag.
Once all the books were closed and on the table, she decided she'd shelve them too. As she climbed the ladder, she could almost hear Anya threatening the customers to have a nice day. A half sob, half laugh escaped her. Giles would chastise Anya in lieu of Xander being near to do it, while telling Dawn to put something down, or to be careful because the clawed frog's foot could turn them all into inanimate objects if she aimed it at them.
Dawn never knew whether he was serious or not, but the others did, and they'd share a grin as Dawn hastily dropped the object. More sobs came and she had to sit down until they passed. They were all dead, except Spike and Tara. She and Spike could've died tonight. What if she'd died without ever telling Spike how she felt about him? What if he'd died never knowing she was in love with him?
She hadn't gotten to tell Xander and Buffy one last time, that she loved them. Never told Buffy that she was her hero. Or told Xander that he was her best friend in the world, better than any brother she could've had, and he'd understand that it wasn't icky that she used to be in love with him, but now thought of him as a brother. She'd never told Giles how much he meant to her. How, if her own father had ever met Giles, he'd be jealous 'cause she loved Giles just as much as him. And Anya, she'd never gotten to tell Anya thank you for making Xander so happy, and for loving him so much. Never told Dawn that, even though she was only a newly born mystical energy key, she loved her like a little sister she'd known her whole life, and she didn't think it had anything to do with the false memories the monks planted.
Being here, in this shop of ghosts and this town of demons made Willow realize that time was precious. Oh, she'd always known it, had it brought home to her way too many times to count, but she often forgot that lesson. It was a hazard of living on the Hellmouth.
After wiping her eyes, she shelved the books with a lighter heart. As soon as Spike woke up, she'd tell him how she felt and hope like heck that he felt the same.
Twenty minutes, and lots of cleaning later, Spike finally woke up with a groan. Willow, sitting in a chair at the table, reading a book on shapeshifters that she'd found, turned to him with a smile. "Rip van Winkle's awake."
Spike eyed her warily, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Willow knew how he felt, she was kinda feeling that way too, but she knew that it was now or never. Closing the book quietly, she stood up.
"Willow--" he began, but she cut him off.
"Wait. Please. Before we get all angst-y and dramatic, I have something I want to say, and if I don't say it now, I won't say it at all, and I really want to say it." She paused, realizing that wasn't exactly the truth. "Well, I actually don't want to say it at all, but I *have* to say it." She nodded in affirmation of her words. "Gotta say it. Have to."
Spike looked away, toward the back room. Wishing he was there instead of here? Well tough patootie. She had some love declaring to do.
Kneeling down in front of him, she took a deep, steadying breath, and folded her hands in front of her. Realizing she looked like she was about to start praying, she unclasped her hands and set them on her thighs. Ignoring the images her position brought to mind, she plunged right in. "Spike, I--"
"Willow," he interrupted, swallowing, and glancing past her, "I think I need to--"
She held up a hand, forestalling him. "I really need to get this out now."
"Me too," he mumbled, leaning his head back against the wall with a sigh.
Well, okay, he had something important to say too, so she wasted no more time. She looked him straight in the eye and just said it. "Spike, I love you..."
The words were hardly out before he was standing up, pushing her out of the way, and rushing out of the room. Willow stared after him in confusion. That was the last reaction she'd ever expected from him. Hurt was starting to move through her, but then she heard the bathroom door slam shut and the distant sounds of Spike retching. Oh, strike that last thought. *This* was the last reaction she'd ever expected from him.
Her eyes widened in horror. Vampires didn't get sick. They didn't throw up, they weren't able to physically get ill... but she'd made Spike throw up by her declaration of love?
More tears filled her eyes, and she decided to slink away in shame. Leave before she had to face him again. Maybe even leave town, forever, just so she didn't ever have to face him again.
But she was still rooted to the spot when Spike entered the room again, leaning against the doorjamb with a miserable expression on his face. "What the bloody hell was that?" His eyes were on her, but kept sliding away, then finally settled somewhere on the ceiling before sliding shut. "Uh, c-- could you say that again?"
Could she? Yes. Would she? No. It was possible he was just trying to ridicule her more, right? After all, she'd just made him throw up for the first time in over a century. But, maybe it hadn't been her, or her love declaration, maybe it was something else. Maybe--
"Willow?" His voice, still sounding rather tortured, interrupted her thoughts.
She dragged her eyes off the floor long enough to look at him. He didn't look any better than he had before. Kind of worse, in fact, but he did sound sincere. Could she really think he was just making her repeat it to ridicule her? No, he wasn't like that anymore. Ignoring the last part of that nightmare dreamscape they'd just gotten out of, she walked over to him, once again looked him straight in the face and said, "I'm in lo--"
And then he was gone, running to the bathroom once again. Willow nodded to herself, wiping at the tears that were now falling. Gathering the three books she'd decided might help them against the shapeshifter, she left the Magic Box.
After the dry heaving was done, Spike dropped to the floor, resting his forehead against the cool tile wall. "I love you too," he whispered miserably, then banged the back of his head on the wall behind him in anger. "Ow."
A few minutes of silent griping and bitching later, he got unsteadily to his feet and gripped the edges of the sink with both hands, swallowing back the nausea threatening to once again overwhelm him. Whatever was happening to him, it was making him feel more miserable than he'd felt in over a century, save for that organ breaking his spine.
Yanking open the mirrored medicine cabinet, he grabbed a tube of toothpaste that proclaimed its 'minty freshness', and turned the water on. After twice brushing his teeth with his finger, he swilled some disgusting mouthwash, spit it out, rinsed his mouth, then left the bathroom behind.
He smelled her before he saw her, and his head shot up in surprise. She hadn't left, or she'd come back. Either way, he had to hold himself still, letting her make the first move. It was a pride thing.
She was standing between the table and the counter, facing him in the doorway, her arms wrapped around a couple of big books like they were life preservers. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and her lower lip was trembling just a little.
Spike didn't think he'd ever seen anything more pathetic, or more beautiful. Screw his pride. She looked miserable, and he didn't want to be the cause of that misery.
As he pushed away from the wall and started toward her, she shook her head and took a single step back, so he stopped.
"I love you," she told him, her voice shaky, but strong.
It came out sounding more like a challenge than a declaration of love, and he had to bite back a smile. His heart was trying to do that soaring thing again too. So much joy went through him at her words that he had to remind himself he was a vampire that hated these feelings. Ah, heck, who was he kidding? At the moment, he was the happiest vampire in the world.
She smiled very briefly. "Okay, so, yay, I didn't make you sick this time." Taking a deep breath, she blinked back tears and continued on as if she were stating battle plans. "If you don't love me back, well, that's, you know, not of the good, but I can live with it. I've been dumped before, though this isn't exactly the same thing." Her brow furrowed, and she shifted the books in her arms. "I loved Xander for forever, and I lived. I'll survive again. I mean, yeah, it was hard, but I did it, and now... here I am." She frowned, looking around the dusty shop. "Here I am," she repeated more to herself than to him. "Once again in love, and probably about to get my heart broken. Again." She turned a brave, self-mocking smile his way. "But hey, who'd want to live without all that pain and despair? Life would be boring."
He nodded, keeping his expression serious. It probably wouldn't help matters if he laughed at her. "Can I move now?" She nodded regally. He closed the remaining distance between them, but once he reached her, he simply looked down at her, studying her face to make sure he wanted to do this.
And damn his mind for trying to stop him. It was reminding him of Buffy's dismissal of him, of the pain he'd felt when she had Willow uninvite him from her house. It tried reminding him of how horrible he felt when Dru left him for one demon or another, and how much pain he'd been in when she wouldn't shut up about Angelus. It whispered about betrayal, and how he'd never wanted to put himself in this position again.
None of that mattered. Only Willow. She was the only thing that mattered, and he had the key to making her hurt less. He knew how to smooth that frown from her brow. His thoughts cleared suddenly, and he had only one truly coherent thought.
Make Willow happy.
"I told you before; you're the 'more' I've been searching for my whole life. And I love you a whole hell of a lot more than I should."
The books in her arms slipped through her suddenly lax grip and fell to the floor at her feet, in much the same way as he wanted to do. Her breath caught as she stepped over the pile of pages, and she allowed herself to be picked up and held by him. He swung her free of her book-prison and set her back down. Her own arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him tighter than a vampire wrestler. But he wouldn't have had it any other way.
She sucked in a few hitching breaths and kissed his neck, then his cheek, but just before her mouth settled over his, she pulled back, biting her lip.
He frowned down at her, and tried to kiss her, but she once again pulled back. "What gives?" he asked grumpily.
"Um, you have pukey mouth... no offense, but--"
"Hey," he protested, quite offended despite her reassurances, "I brushed. Twice. Even used mouthwa--"
Her mouth smothered the rest, and he chuckled. Not like he had anything important to say anyway. Nothing was more important at the moment than holding Willow, and touching her face; kissing her delicious little mouth that sometimes ran away with her, and wanting it to run away on parts of him; enjoying the feeling of having her hands sliding up under his shirt. He pulled back with a groan, resting his forehead against hers.
She was breathing heavily, but her eyes were shining as they stared into his. A wide smile spread across her face.
"I think we need to research," he mumbled, kissing her thoroughly. "And, you might not want to touch me a lot." Reconsidering his words, he grinned crookedly, "Well, at least not from the chest down, or the hips up. Other than that, feel free to touch wherever you want." He waggled his brows at her, and leaned forward to kiss her again.
Once again, she pulled away, frowning. They really needed to stop all this moving away from each other, they'd never get anything accomplished if they didn't continue with the touching and the kissing. And the more pleasant things.
"So it really wasn't me that made you run to the bathroom?"
Spike laughed, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "Bloody hell, no. How could you saying the one thing I wanted to hear more than anything make me upchuck?"
"Really?" she asked, her voice small. "I mean, really you wanted to hear... *that* more than anything? Even more than maybe, 'Hey, the implant's gone and will never cause you problems again'? Or more than, 'Buffy's alive and she and Dru want to have a threesome with you'? Really?" Her voice, though teasing, held so much hope that it almost hurt him to think of dashing that hope. Good thing he wasn't going to then.
"Even more," he assured her. "Infinitely more. Exponentially more--"
She laughed, swatting at his arm. "Okay, okay, Overstating Guy." She stepped back a few feet, and motioned to the books she'd dropped. "Guess we should figure out what makes a vampire sick then. I'm thinking spell." Now it was her turn to waggle her eyebrows at him. "The faster you're all better, the faster we can do stuff."
He laughed, reaching out to pull her to him again. She yelped and landed flush against him with a giggle. "Stomach's already all better," he whispered, before devouring her mouth with his. This was a kiss with a purpose, not just a pleasurable kiss, but a kiss that was meant to lead to other things. He lifted his head from hers briefly, looking around the mostly dark shop. The table caught his eye and he started to back her up to it.
She looked behind herself and then back at him, widening her eyes. "We can't," she whispered as if there was a crowd of people standing around listening to them. Her eyes darted this way and that. Searching for the non-existent people? "We researched there, like, a million times. It'd be... weird."
"We can," he assured her, lifting her up onto the smooth surface, "and we will." He slid his hands under her shirt, raising it with slow, deliberate movements. "There'll be no weirdness. I promise."
Instead of protesting, she nodded excitedly, looking like she was about to do something naughty and there was a chance she could get caught at any moment. "Okay." Her own hands slid under his shirt, but then were removed. "Are you sure you're all right?"
He reached around to unhook her bra, and it only took two tries before the lacy white material was falling to her lap. "I'm sure," he breathed. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I'm sure."
Her smile widened and all doubt fled. "Good, because I kinda want you." Her hands scraped lightly against his stomach, as he leaned down to nip at her delectable lips. Both were happy to note the lack of negative response to her fingernails on his abdomen. He helped her rid him of his T-Shirt, and quickly toed off his boots.
His eyes darted to her jeans before returning to her face. "Take them off."
She hopped off the table, bumping him in the process. He groaned at the contact, as it made parts of him even more aware of her than they already were.
"Sorry," she mumbled, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them hastily down her hips. Stepping on the cuffs, she tried desperately to get away from the heavy material, but it seemed to want to keep her imprisoned. "Ugh. Shoes," she chuckled, leaning against the table and bending down to pull them off.
Spike was having a few problems of his own. He unbuttoned his black jeans and tried to yank the zipper down but it got stuck halfway. He yanked harder and broke the little tab thing off, but at least they were open now, and he could pull them off without taking a pair of scissors to them. Seeing Willow's struggles with her shoes, he tossed his pants on the pile of books a few feet away and knelt down to help.
She lifted her head, kissing him. "Thanks. I seem to be stuck." A pained grunt left her lips a second later as he jerked a sneaker off one foot.
He'd used too much force, he realized with a wince. Her back had smacked the edge of the table.
"Ow."
"I'm sorry." He spun her around, trying to get a look at her back, but she shook her head and toed off her other shoe.
"It's good. I'm good." Her smile turned quite evil. "Let's be good together."
"Always," he mumbled, taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting it just the tiniest bit. He wanted to feel her skin against his, so he pulled her up with him, not bothering to halt the kiss, and pressed her against him; chest to chest, thigh to thigh.
Her hand, the one without the cast, curled around his neck, holding him tightly to her. She sighed into his mouth, closing her eyes, and resting her forehead against his. "I love you, Spike, but you're too slow."
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her back on to the table. "Impatience is a bad trait, love, taking your time has its rewards."
"So I've been told." Apparently she'd decided to be daring for once in her life, and show him where her impatience would get him. Her eyes dropped to his stomach, then lower.
He sucked in a breath when she wrapped her hand around him. "Then again..." He hopped up on the table beside her and leaned back on his elbows, letting her have her wicked way with him.
She watched his face as she stroked him, watched as his eyes darkened with desire. His jaw clenched tight, and his eyes threatened to slide closed, but he managed to keep them open and fixed on her face as she brought him pleasure. When she ran her thumb over the tip of him, his hips jerked forward.
Her small, pink tongue darted out to lick dry lips, and his eyes flickered to yellow, he could feel it. She knew what he wanted. Sliding off the table, she leaned down and took him in her mouth in one smooth motion. As soon as she closed her mouth around him, he dropped back with a groan, gripping the edges of the table.
She worked her mouth in the most delightful ways for a few minutes, and then he could stand it no longer. He halted her movements, gazing down at her. She looked back in question.
Seeing such unrestrained desire on her face and in her eyes, he wasn't able to keep from groaning and closing his eyes. "I don't want to... uh... in your mouth... and if you don't stop now, I will."
"Oh." That, Willow thought. She'd always been curious about it. She and Oz had never done more than have sex. Sometimes she stroked him with her hand, but never had she used her mouth on him. And now was her chance.
She ran her tongue along the underside of him, and he jerked against her, forcing him further into her mouth. Sliding her tongue around him, she flicked the tip, tasting him. Her hands splayed against his stomach, feeling the muscles tightening under her palms. She heard Spike moaning, and felt a tremendous amount of power. She was doing this to him, making him lose control. Making him feel things. It was a heady experience. But all too soon it was over.
He pulled her up, sliding to the edge of the table as he did so. "Game over," he grinned, sliding her panties off and drawing her closer.
"What--" she tried to say, but his mouth smothered hers, and she lost her train of thought. He jumped down from the table and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Oh." She actually meant more than that simple statement, but she couldn't be bothered to actually say them. He slid inside of her, forcing her to gasp in pleasure. Her lips found his once again as her inner muscles clenched him tighter. His hands slid under her rear and lifted her slightly, then let her drop back down. "Oh," was once again her reply.
Spike's laughter shook both of them, sending delicious shivers through her. Threading her hands through his hair, she gasped as he thrust inside of her again and again. Her eyes closed. She loved this man. Loved him more than life itself. And he loved her back. It was almost too much to believe. Was Tara right? Were they actually soul mates?
Just as she felt herself tumbling over the edge, she vowed never to fall out of love with him, and to prove to him everyday just how she deeply she felt for him.
"I love you," she whispered into his ear.
"God, Willow." His own release followed his words, and she smiled against his neck. "I love you too," he whispered back.
Sometime later, Spike slid down the wall they'd somehow ended up against, and cradled her in his lap and arms.
"We have to talk," she told him.
"Do we have to?" he nearly whined, "I can think of at least sixty better things to be doing right now." He leaned forward, nipping at her lip.
She sighed, losing herself to the feeling of him, but then pushed him back slightly. "We really do need to talk. About that bite. I think I figured it out. Why you did it."
He leaned back against the wall, dropping his hands to her waist. "Fine, we can do the talking thing, but it had better not lead to arguing, because I intend to repeat *this*." He gestured to them, then traced his fingers slowly up her hips to her sides.
She giggled and squirmed away from his ticklish fingers, slapping his hands down. "Okay, so here's my theory: I made you do it. It was my fault you bit me. You were completely blameless."
He thought about that for a second, nodding thoughtfully as he stared up at the ceiling, then shook his head. "Don't take the blame away from me. Don't be a bloody martyr." He lifted her off of his lap and stood up, walking toward his duster.
Willow watched him fish through his pockets for his crumpled pack of cigarettes, and had to force her mind back to her reasoning behind taking all his blame from him. "I'm not being a martyr. I think I did like the Djin said, what I wanted most."
"And what's that?" he asked sarcastically, "me killing you? Yeah, I can see how you came to that conclusion." He stuck an unlit cigarette between his lips and searched his pockets again for his lighter.
"No, I didn't want you to kill me," she scoffed, "but I did want all my guilt gone. All the guilt, shame, and just all around bad feelings. And aren't those things that vampires love to embrace? What makes you a demon?"
"Yeah," he said, considering her words carefully, "I guess it is. Part of it anyway. Also lots of unhealthy doses of rage, pain, despair... the usual." He flipped open his Zippo and lit the cigarette, drawing in a deep breath of Cancer-inducing smoke.
"So, see? I wanted to get rid of all that guilt and stuff from sleeping with William, and cheating on Tara, and then with you. And I... am just a big ho," she finished, sounding a bit pout-y even to her own ears.
Spike's, 'Aha!' and 'I knew it!' while pointing at her, had her nodding guiltily. He once again began fishing through his duster pockets, and she had to wonder if he had a kitchen sink in there too.
He tossed something at her, while gathering their hastily thrown about clothing. She caught the dark blue material one handed, and looked down to see what she'd won. "Spike. Did anyone ever tell you how *not* sexy it is to pull someone else's underwear out of your pocket? Especially after having just done..." she gestured to the table, "that!" Anger was floating through her, and she had to stop herself from marching over to him and smacking him in the back of the head with her cast.
"Didn't think you'd mind," he chuckled, tossing more clothing at her, this time her blouse. "Found them in my crypt," he mentioned conversationally.
Willow shoved her arms into the sleeves of her blouse, and yanked it down, ripping it a little with her none too gentle treatment of the thin fabric. "Didn't think I'd mind?" she repeated furiously. "You throw somebody's underwear at me and expect me not to care? You stupid..." unable to find any word suitable for what she thought him at that moment, she stomped her foot, wincing as her bare heel hit the tile floor. "Are they Harmony's? And, what? You thought," she deepened her voice, trying to sound like Spike, "'I'll shag the witch and then toss Harmony's underwear at her. That'll be fun!'" She grabbed her jeans off the floor and shoved her feet into them, then yanked them up, buttoning them with shaky fingers.
He was watching her as he stepped casually into his own pants, as if she was overreacting, or being foolish. He slowly removed the cigarette from his lips, and shook his head. "Not Harmony's," he told her. "They're yours."
"Mine?" she repeated stupidly. "Those aren't..." she tossed a quick look at the blue panties she'd dropped on the floor, and well, now that he mentioned it... she did have a pair of dark blue underwear. Hadn't worn them in a while though. And why? Because she hadn't seen them. "Ew." Now she did go over and slap him, on the arm though, and without the cast. "That's disgusting, Spike. Gross. Didn't you learn anything from Buffy? Stealing women's underwear or other clothing, and doing..." she glanced at the underwear in disgust, and saw that they were torn. "Ew! What did you do to them?" she yelled.
He turned a serious look her way. "Didn't do anything *to* them, I did it *with* them. We're in love, Willow, your panties and I, and it's a deep and lasting love that occasionally requires physical--"
She snorted with laughter at the unrestrained mirth in his eyes. "That's really-- well, you know, still sick, but funny."
"Relax, Willow. I found them in William's chair cushions way back when."
Her eyes widened, and she could've sworn she felt a little hurt in there. Yep, definitely hurt, though why, she had no idea. "He's sleeping with her? Robin?"
Spike was shaking his head as he looked around for the rest of their clothes. "No, they're yours. You're sleeping with him. Ah," he mumbled, bending down to pick up her tennis shoes. "Shoes. And it stops. Now. No more sleeping with anyone else."
"Oh, please," she scoffed, "like I'm sleeping with everyone in town."
"I mean it, Willow. I'm the jealous type. Who wouldn't be after living with Dru's infidelities for over a century? I ever hear rumors of you being with someone other than me, I'll kill the person. Unless it's a human, then I'll hire someone else to do it." He stared down at her, his face dead serious.
"Well, isn't that a mood breaker," she said softly, grabbing her shoes from him and sitting down to put them on. She had no intention of sleeping with anyone else. Spike was the only one she wanted. Okay, yeah, she'd cheated on Oz sort of, kissed Xander anyway, but that's all, nothing more. And the Tara cheating only came about because of Tara, and-- really she needed to stop placing blame on everyone else and just own up to her shortcomings.
She'd cheated on everyone. She was a bad, bad person who didn't deserve love. But, once again, she'd found it. And it'd found her. She looked over at Spike. He was leaning against the counter, smoking his cigarette as he watched her. Tying her laces, she dropped her foot to the floor and stood up.
"We should go before someone calls the cops." Bending down, she collected the books she'd dropped in her happiness, wrapped her arms around them again, and gestured toward the back.
Spike followed her into the training room after gathering his duster, and two pairs of her underwear from the floor. Face flaming, Willow left the Magic Box behind.
PART 19
(November 2001)
Willow's eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring at Tara, who was staring at her with a worried look. Looking beyond her ex-girlfriend, she saw the Magic Box... which she hadn't been in since the night before everyone was killed. And, wow, look at all the dust and-- books on the floor?
"Willow. Are you all right?" Tara reached out tenderly to touch Willow's face, but then stopped with a sideways glance at Spike. "You had me-- us worried." Her voice lowered a little, and she moved closer to whisper, "Spike was really worried about you." A tremulous smile followed, and then she straightened up and moved back, giving Willow space.
Willow tossed a look at Spike too, and found him sleeping, or knocked out. "I'm fine," she told Tara. No thanks to Spike, she thought silently. What the heck had that big suckfest been about in there? Why had he bitten her so hard? So carelessly. So-- shaking her head at herself, she got to her feet. "Why's he still zonked?"
Tara shrugged. "Side effect of the spell, probably. Um, you know what? I don't really want to be here when he wakes up... I think I have issues, so, I'm just gonna go now." She paused and the smile was gone, replaced by her serious face. "I'm really glad you're safe, Willow."
Willow smiled broadly and hugged Tara tight, kissing her. There was no passion in the kiss, it was just a goodbye kiss. "Bye, Tara," Willow whispered, dropping her arms to her sides. "Thank you for... well, everything."
Tara shook her head. "I'll always be there, Willow. Whenever you need me. We're still friends, right?"
"Still friends," Willow assured her. "Be careful." A smile lifted her lips. "I hear there're bad things out there."
Tara smiled back, turning away with a wave. She gathered up some books, and then she was gone.
Left alone, except for the sleeping vampire, Willow went around the table picking up all the rest of the books that'd been thrown to the floor. Looked like a really intense research session had just occurred. A sad smile lifted her lips. She could almost imagine she heard Buffy in the training room, beating the stuffing out of Xander in the puffy suit. Could almost hear Xander's grunts of pain, and his distant voice as he tried to get out of being her human punching bag.
Once all the books were closed and on the table, she decided she'd shelve them too. As she climbed the ladder, she could almost hear Anya threatening the customers to have a nice day. A half sob, half laugh escaped her. Giles would chastise Anya in lieu of Xander being near to do it, while telling Dawn to put something down, or to be careful because the clawed frog's foot could turn them all into inanimate objects if she aimed it at them.
Dawn never knew whether he was serious or not, but the others did, and they'd share a grin as Dawn hastily dropped the object. More sobs came and she had to sit down until they passed. They were all dead, except Spike and Tara. She and Spike could've died tonight. What if she'd died without ever telling Spike how she felt about him? What if he'd died never knowing she was in love with him?
She hadn't gotten to tell Xander and Buffy one last time, that she loved them. Never told Buffy that she was her hero. Or told Xander that he was her best friend in the world, better than any brother she could've had, and he'd understand that it wasn't icky that she used to be in love with him, but now thought of him as a brother. She'd never told Giles how much he meant to her. How, if her own father had ever met Giles, he'd be jealous 'cause she loved Giles just as much as him. And Anya, she'd never gotten to tell Anya thank you for making Xander so happy, and for loving him so much. Never told Dawn that, even though she was only a newly born mystical energy key, she loved her like a little sister she'd known her whole life, and she didn't think it had anything to do with the false memories the monks planted.
Being here, in this shop of ghosts and this town of demons made Willow realize that time was precious. Oh, she'd always known it, had it brought home to her way too many times to count, but she often forgot that lesson. It was a hazard of living on the Hellmouth.
After wiping her eyes, she shelved the books with a lighter heart. As soon as Spike woke up, she'd tell him how she felt and hope like heck that he felt the same.
Twenty minutes, and lots of cleaning later, Spike finally woke up with a groan. Willow, sitting in a chair at the table, reading a book on shapeshifters that she'd found, turned to him with a smile. "Rip van Winkle's awake."
Spike eyed her warily, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Willow knew how he felt, she was kinda feeling that way too, but she knew that it was now or never. Closing the book quietly, she stood up.
"Willow--" he began, but she cut him off.
"Wait. Please. Before we get all angst-y and dramatic, I have something I want to say, and if I don't say it now, I won't say it at all, and I really want to say it." She paused, realizing that wasn't exactly the truth. "Well, I actually don't want to say it at all, but I *have* to say it." She nodded in affirmation of her words. "Gotta say it. Have to."
Spike looked away, toward the back room. Wishing he was there instead of here? Well tough patootie. She had some love declaring to do.
Kneeling down in front of him, she took a deep, steadying breath, and folded her hands in front of her. Realizing she looked like she was about to start praying, she unclasped her hands and set them on her thighs. Ignoring the images her position brought to mind, she plunged right in. "Spike, I--"
"Willow," he interrupted, swallowing, and glancing past her, "I think I need to--"
She held up a hand, forestalling him. "I really need to get this out now."
"Me too," he mumbled, leaning his head back against the wall with a sigh.
Well, okay, he had something important to say too, so she wasted no more time. She looked him straight in the eye and just said it. "Spike, I love you..."
The words were hardly out before he was standing up, pushing her out of the way, and rushing out of the room. Willow stared after him in confusion. That was the last reaction she'd ever expected from him. Hurt was starting to move through her, but then she heard the bathroom door slam shut and the distant sounds of Spike retching. Oh, strike that last thought. *This* was the last reaction she'd ever expected from him.
Her eyes widened in horror. Vampires didn't get sick. They didn't throw up, they weren't able to physically get ill... but she'd made Spike throw up by her declaration of love?
More tears filled her eyes, and she decided to slink away in shame. Leave before she had to face him again. Maybe even leave town, forever, just so she didn't ever have to face him again.
But she was still rooted to the spot when Spike entered the room again, leaning against the doorjamb with a miserable expression on his face. "What the bloody hell was that?" His eyes were on her, but kept sliding away, then finally settled somewhere on the ceiling before sliding shut. "Uh, c-- could you say that again?"
Could she? Yes. Would she? No. It was possible he was just trying to ridicule her more, right? After all, she'd just made him throw up for the first time in over a century. But, maybe it hadn't been her, or her love declaration, maybe it was something else. Maybe--
"Willow?" His voice, still sounding rather tortured, interrupted her thoughts.
She dragged her eyes off the floor long enough to look at him. He didn't look any better than he had before. Kind of worse, in fact, but he did sound sincere. Could she really think he was just making her repeat it to ridicule her? No, he wasn't like that anymore. Ignoring the last part of that nightmare dreamscape they'd just gotten out of, she walked over to him, once again looked him straight in the face and said, "I'm in lo--"
And then he was gone, running to the bathroom once again. Willow nodded to herself, wiping at the tears that were now falling. Gathering the three books she'd decided might help them against the shapeshifter, she left the Magic Box.
After the dry heaving was done, Spike dropped to the floor, resting his forehead against the cool tile wall. "I love you too," he whispered miserably, then banged the back of his head on the wall behind him in anger. "Ow."
A few minutes of silent griping and bitching later, he got unsteadily to his feet and gripped the edges of the sink with both hands, swallowing back the nausea threatening to once again overwhelm him. Whatever was happening to him, it was making him feel more miserable than he'd felt in over a century, save for that organ breaking his spine.
Yanking open the mirrored medicine cabinet, he grabbed a tube of toothpaste that proclaimed its 'minty freshness', and turned the water on. After twice brushing his teeth with his finger, he swilled some disgusting mouthwash, spit it out, rinsed his mouth, then left the bathroom behind.
He smelled her before he saw her, and his head shot up in surprise. She hadn't left, or she'd come back. Either way, he had to hold himself still, letting her make the first move. It was a pride thing.
She was standing between the table and the counter, facing him in the doorway, her arms wrapped around a couple of big books like they were life preservers. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and her lower lip was trembling just a little.
Spike didn't think he'd ever seen anything more pathetic, or more beautiful. Screw his pride. She looked miserable, and he didn't want to be the cause of that misery.
As he pushed away from the wall and started toward her, she shook her head and took a single step back, so he stopped.
"I love you," she told him, her voice shaky, but strong.
It came out sounding more like a challenge than a declaration of love, and he had to bite back a smile. His heart was trying to do that soaring thing again too. So much joy went through him at her words that he had to remind himself he was a vampire that hated these feelings. Ah, heck, who was he kidding? At the moment, he was the happiest vampire in the world.
She smiled very briefly. "Okay, so, yay, I didn't make you sick this time." Taking a deep breath, she blinked back tears and continued on as if she were stating battle plans. "If you don't love me back, well, that's, you know, not of the good, but I can live with it. I've been dumped before, though this isn't exactly the same thing." Her brow furrowed, and she shifted the books in her arms. "I loved Xander for forever, and I lived. I'll survive again. I mean, yeah, it was hard, but I did it, and now... here I am." She frowned, looking around the dusty shop. "Here I am," she repeated more to herself than to him. "Once again in love, and probably about to get my heart broken. Again." She turned a brave, self-mocking smile his way. "But hey, who'd want to live without all that pain and despair? Life would be boring."
He nodded, keeping his expression serious. It probably wouldn't help matters if he laughed at her. "Can I move now?" She nodded regally. He closed the remaining distance between them, but once he reached her, he simply looked down at her, studying her face to make sure he wanted to do this.
And damn his mind for trying to stop him. It was reminding him of Buffy's dismissal of him, of the pain he'd felt when she had Willow uninvite him from her house. It tried reminding him of how horrible he felt when Dru left him for one demon or another, and how much pain he'd been in when she wouldn't shut up about Angelus. It whispered about betrayal, and how he'd never wanted to put himself in this position again.
None of that mattered. Only Willow. She was the only thing that mattered, and he had the key to making her hurt less. He knew how to smooth that frown from her brow. His thoughts cleared suddenly, and he had only one truly coherent thought.
Make Willow happy.
"I told you before; you're the 'more' I've been searching for my whole life. And I love you a whole hell of a lot more than I should."
The books in her arms slipped through her suddenly lax grip and fell to the floor at her feet, in much the same way as he wanted to do. Her breath caught as she stepped over the pile of pages, and she allowed herself to be picked up and held by him. He swung her free of her book-prison and set her back down. Her own arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him tighter than a vampire wrestler. But he wouldn't have had it any other way.
She sucked in a few hitching breaths and kissed his neck, then his cheek, but just before her mouth settled over his, she pulled back, biting her lip.
He frowned down at her, and tried to kiss her, but she once again pulled back. "What gives?" he asked grumpily.
"Um, you have pukey mouth... no offense, but--"
"Hey," he protested, quite offended despite her reassurances, "I brushed. Twice. Even used mouthwa--"
Her mouth smothered the rest, and he chuckled. Not like he had anything important to say anyway. Nothing was more important at the moment than holding Willow, and touching her face; kissing her delicious little mouth that sometimes ran away with her, and wanting it to run away on parts of him; enjoying the feeling of having her hands sliding up under his shirt. He pulled back with a groan, resting his forehead against hers.
She was breathing heavily, but her eyes were shining as they stared into his. A wide smile spread across her face.
"I think we need to research," he mumbled, kissing her thoroughly. "And, you might not want to touch me a lot." Reconsidering his words, he grinned crookedly, "Well, at least not from the chest down, or the hips up. Other than that, feel free to touch wherever you want." He waggled his brows at her, and leaned forward to kiss her again.
Once again, she pulled away, frowning. They really needed to stop all this moving away from each other, they'd never get anything accomplished if they didn't continue with the touching and the kissing. And the more pleasant things.
"So it really wasn't me that made you run to the bathroom?"
Spike laughed, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "Bloody hell, no. How could you saying the one thing I wanted to hear more than anything make me upchuck?"
"Really?" she asked, her voice small. "I mean, really you wanted to hear... *that* more than anything? Even more than maybe, 'Hey, the implant's gone and will never cause you problems again'? Or more than, 'Buffy's alive and she and Dru want to have a threesome with you'? Really?" Her voice, though teasing, held so much hope that it almost hurt him to think of dashing that hope. Good thing he wasn't going to then.
"Even more," he assured her. "Infinitely more. Exponentially more--"
She laughed, swatting at his arm. "Okay, okay, Overstating Guy." She stepped back a few feet, and motioned to the books she'd dropped. "Guess we should figure out what makes a vampire sick then. I'm thinking spell." Now it was her turn to waggle her eyebrows at him. "The faster you're all better, the faster we can do stuff."
He laughed, reaching out to pull her to him again. She yelped and landed flush against him with a giggle. "Stomach's already all better," he whispered, before devouring her mouth with his. This was a kiss with a purpose, not just a pleasurable kiss, but a kiss that was meant to lead to other things. He lifted his head from hers briefly, looking around the mostly dark shop. The table caught his eye and he started to back her up to it.
She looked behind herself and then back at him, widening her eyes. "We can't," she whispered as if there was a crowd of people standing around listening to them. Her eyes darted this way and that. Searching for the non-existent people? "We researched there, like, a million times. It'd be... weird."
"We can," he assured her, lifting her up onto the smooth surface, "and we will." He slid his hands under her shirt, raising it with slow, deliberate movements. "There'll be no weirdness. I promise."
Instead of protesting, she nodded excitedly, looking like she was about to do something naughty and there was a chance she could get caught at any moment. "Okay." Her own hands slid under his shirt, but then were removed. "Are you sure you're all right?"
He reached around to unhook her bra, and it only took two tries before the lacy white material was falling to her lap. "I'm sure," he breathed. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I'm sure."
Her smile widened and all doubt fled. "Good, because I kinda want you." Her hands scraped lightly against his stomach, as he leaned down to nip at her delectable lips. Both were happy to note the lack of negative response to her fingernails on his abdomen. He helped her rid him of his T-Shirt, and quickly toed off his boots.
His eyes darted to her jeans before returning to her face. "Take them off."
She hopped off the table, bumping him in the process. He groaned at the contact, as it made parts of him even more aware of her than they already were.
"Sorry," she mumbled, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them hastily down her hips. Stepping on the cuffs, she tried desperately to get away from the heavy material, but it seemed to want to keep her imprisoned. "Ugh. Shoes," she chuckled, leaning against the table and bending down to pull them off.
Spike was having a few problems of his own. He unbuttoned his black jeans and tried to yank the zipper down but it got stuck halfway. He yanked harder and broke the little tab thing off, but at least they were open now, and he could pull them off without taking a pair of scissors to them. Seeing Willow's struggles with her shoes, he tossed his pants on the pile of books a few feet away and knelt down to help.
She lifted her head, kissing him. "Thanks. I seem to be stuck." A pained grunt left her lips a second later as he jerked a sneaker off one foot.
He'd used too much force, he realized with a wince. Her back had smacked the edge of the table.
"Ow."
"I'm sorry." He spun her around, trying to get a look at her back, but she shook her head and toed off her other shoe.
"It's good. I'm good." Her smile turned quite evil. "Let's be good together."
"Always," he mumbled, taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting it just the tiniest bit. He wanted to feel her skin against his, so he pulled her up with him, not bothering to halt the kiss, and pressed her against him; chest to chest, thigh to thigh.
Her hand, the one without the cast, curled around his neck, holding him tightly to her. She sighed into his mouth, closing her eyes, and resting her forehead against his. "I love you, Spike, but you're too slow."
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her back on to the table. "Impatience is a bad trait, love, taking your time has its rewards."
"So I've been told." Apparently she'd decided to be daring for once in her life, and show him where her impatience would get him. Her eyes dropped to his stomach, then lower.
He sucked in a breath when she wrapped her hand around him. "Then again..." He hopped up on the table beside her and leaned back on his elbows, letting her have her wicked way with him.
She watched his face as she stroked him, watched as his eyes darkened with desire. His jaw clenched tight, and his eyes threatened to slide closed, but he managed to keep them open and fixed on her face as she brought him pleasure. When she ran her thumb over the tip of him, his hips jerked forward.
Her small, pink tongue darted out to lick dry lips, and his eyes flickered to yellow, he could feel it. She knew what he wanted. Sliding off the table, she leaned down and took him in her mouth in one smooth motion. As soon as she closed her mouth around him, he dropped back with a groan, gripping the edges of the table.
She worked her mouth in the most delightful ways for a few minutes, and then he could stand it no longer. He halted her movements, gazing down at her. She looked back in question.
Seeing such unrestrained desire on her face and in her eyes, he wasn't able to keep from groaning and closing his eyes. "I don't want to... uh... in your mouth... and if you don't stop now, I will."
"Oh." That, Willow thought. She'd always been curious about it. She and Oz had never done more than have sex. Sometimes she stroked him with her hand, but never had she used her mouth on him. And now was her chance.
She ran her tongue along the underside of him, and he jerked against her, forcing him further into her mouth. Sliding her tongue around him, she flicked the tip, tasting him. Her hands splayed against his stomach, feeling the muscles tightening under her palms. She heard Spike moaning, and felt a tremendous amount of power. She was doing this to him, making him lose control. Making him feel things. It was a heady experience. But all too soon it was over.
He pulled her up, sliding to the edge of the table as he did so. "Game over," he grinned, sliding her panties off and drawing her closer.
"What--" she tried to say, but his mouth smothered hers, and she lost her train of thought. He jumped down from the table and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Oh." She actually meant more than that simple statement, but she couldn't be bothered to actually say them. He slid inside of her, forcing her to gasp in pleasure. Her lips found his once again as her inner muscles clenched him tighter. His hands slid under her rear and lifted her slightly, then let her drop back down. "Oh," was once again her reply.
Spike's laughter shook both of them, sending delicious shivers through her. Threading her hands through his hair, she gasped as he thrust inside of her again and again. Her eyes closed. She loved this man. Loved him more than life itself. And he loved her back. It was almost too much to believe. Was Tara right? Were they actually soul mates?
Just as she felt herself tumbling over the edge, she vowed never to fall out of love with him, and to prove to him everyday just how she deeply she felt for him.
"I love you," she whispered into his ear.
"God, Willow." His own release followed his words, and she smiled against his neck. "I love you too," he whispered back.
Sometime later, Spike slid down the wall they'd somehow ended up against, and cradled her in his lap and arms.
"We have to talk," she told him.
"Do we have to?" he nearly whined, "I can think of at least sixty better things to be doing right now." He leaned forward, nipping at her lip.
She sighed, losing herself to the feeling of him, but then pushed him back slightly. "We really do need to talk. About that bite. I think I figured it out. Why you did it."
He leaned back against the wall, dropping his hands to her waist. "Fine, we can do the talking thing, but it had better not lead to arguing, because I intend to repeat *this*." He gestured to them, then traced his fingers slowly up her hips to her sides.
She giggled and squirmed away from his ticklish fingers, slapping his hands down. "Okay, so here's my theory: I made you do it. It was my fault you bit me. You were completely blameless."
He thought about that for a second, nodding thoughtfully as he stared up at the ceiling, then shook his head. "Don't take the blame away from me. Don't be a bloody martyr." He lifted her off of his lap and stood up, walking toward his duster.
Willow watched him fish through his pockets for his crumpled pack of cigarettes, and had to force her mind back to her reasoning behind taking all his blame from him. "I'm not being a martyr. I think I did like the Djin said, what I wanted most."
"And what's that?" he asked sarcastically, "me killing you? Yeah, I can see how you came to that conclusion." He stuck an unlit cigarette between his lips and searched his pockets again for his lighter.
"No, I didn't want you to kill me," she scoffed, "but I did want all my guilt gone. All the guilt, shame, and just all around bad feelings. And aren't those things that vampires love to embrace? What makes you a demon?"
"Yeah," he said, considering her words carefully, "I guess it is. Part of it anyway. Also lots of unhealthy doses of rage, pain, despair... the usual." He flipped open his Zippo and lit the cigarette, drawing in a deep breath of Cancer-inducing smoke.
"So, see? I wanted to get rid of all that guilt and stuff from sleeping with William, and cheating on Tara, and then with you. And I... am just a big ho," she finished, sounding a bit pout-y even to her own ears.
Spike's, 'Aha!' and 'I knew it!' while pointing at her, had her nodding guiltily. He once again began fishing through his duster pockets, and she had to wonder if he had a kitchen sink in there too.
He tossed something at her, while gathering their hastily thrown about clothing. She caught the dark blue material one handed, and looked down to see what she'd won. "Spike. Did anyone ever tell you how *not* sexy it is to pull someone else's underwear out of your pocket? Especially after having just done..." she gestured to the table, "that!" Anger was floating through her, and she had to stop herself from marching over to him and smacking him in the back of the head with her cast.
"Didn't think you'd mind," he chuckled, tossing more clothing at her, this time her blouse. "Found them in my crypt," he mentioned conversationally.
Willow shoved her arms into the sleeves of her blouse, and yanked it down, ripping it a little with her none too gentle treatment of the thin fabric. "Didn't think I'd mind?" she repeated furiously. "You throw somebody's underwear at me and expect me not to care? You stupid..." unable to find any word suitable for what she thought him at that moment, she stomped her foot, wincing as her bare heel hit the tile floor. "Are they Harmony's? And, what? You thought," she deepened her voice, trying to sound like Spike, "'I'll shag the witch and then toss Harmony's underwear at her. That'll be fun!'" She grabbed her jeans off the floor and shoved her feet into them, then yanked them up, buttoning them with shaky fingers.
He was watching her as he stepped casually into his own pants, as if she was overreacting, or being foolish. He slowly removed the cigarette from his lips, and shook his head. "Not Harmony's," he told her. "They're yours."
"Mine?" she repeated stupidly. "Those aren't..." she tossed a quick look at the blue panties she'd dropped on the floor, and well, now that he mentioned it... she did have a pair of dark blue underwear. Hadn't worn them in a while though. And why? Because she hadn't seen them. "Ew." Now she did go over and slap him, on the arm though, and without the cast. "That's disgusting, Spike. Gross. Didn't you learn anything from Buffy? Stealing women's underwear or other clothing, and doing..." she glanced at the underwear in disgust, and saw that they were torn. "Ew! What did you do to them?" she yelled.
He turned a serious look her way. "Didn't do anything *to* them, I did it *with* them. We're in love, Willow, your panties and I, and it's a deep and lasting love that occasionally requires physical--"
She snorted with laughter at the unrestrained mirth in his eyes. "That's really-- well, you know, still sick, but funny."
"Relax, Willow. I found them in William's chair cushions way back when."
Her eyes widened, and she could've sworn she felt a little hurt in there. Yep, definitely hurt, though why, she had no idea. "He's sleeping with her? Robin?"
Spike was shaking his head as he looked around for the rest of their clothes. "No, they're yours. You're sleeping with him. Ah," he mumbled, bending down to pick up her tennis shoes. "Shoes. And it stops. Now. No more sleeping with anyone else."
"Oh, please," she scoffed, "like I'm sleeping with everyone in town."
"I mean it, Willow. I'm the jealous type. Who wouldn't be after living with Dru's infidelities for over a century? I ever hear rumors of you being with someone other than me, I'll kill the person. Unless it's a human, then I'll hire someone else to do it." He stared down at her, his face dead serious.
"Well, isn't that a mood breaker," she said softly, grabbing her shoes from him and sitting down to put them on. She had no intention of sleeping with anyone else. Spike was the only one she wanted. Okay, yeah, she'd cheated on Oz sort of, kissed Xander anyway, but that's all, nothing more. And the Tara cheating only came about because of Tara, and-- really she needed to stop placing blame on everyone else and just own up to her shortcomings.
She'd cheated on everyone. She was a bad, bad person who didn't deserve love. But, once again, she'd found it. And it'd found her. She looked over at Spike. He was leaning against the counter, smoking his cigarette as he watched her. Tying her laces, she dropped her foot to the floor and stood up.
"We should go before someone calls the cops." Bending down, she collected the books she'd dropped in her happiness, wrapped her arms around them again, and gestured toward the back.
Spike followed her into the training room after gathering his duster, and two pairs of her underwear from the floor. Face flaming, Willow left the Magic Box behind.
