Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
PART 3
After getting the extra blood Spike kept at his crypt, he and Willow headed to her house. Her parents were gone for the week, visiting friends at the lake. Willow found herself wishing she hadn't turned them down when they asked her to join them. Hindsight was a bastard of a thing. After the lake, the Rosenberg's were going on a European tour, seeing basically everything there is to see. They'd be gone the whole summer.
As it was, Spike and Willow would have the whole house to themselves, unfortunately they had to remain in extremely close quarters for the next twenty two hours or so.
So not looking forward to that, she thought. Her thoughts were pretty much open for him to come in and take a peek, had he wanted to, but apparently, he didn't, for which she was grateful. Trying to shield her thoughts from him was taxing.
Willow raised her hand to rub her head, but was stopped by Spike yanking it down again. Oh, yeah, Spike hand-holding. That was on a level that was so weird and creepy that she didn't even want to think about it.
"Company," Spike said wearily, sounding as tired as she felt. "Bloody hell," he muttered when he saw who it was.
Willow desperately tried to hide their clasped hands behind her back, but she knew it was fruitless. Judging by Xander's narrowed eyes, he'd already seen them.
"It's not what you think," Willow said immediately.
Spike snorted contemptuously. "You mean he can think?"
Xander didn't stop for conversation, he simply walked up to them, and punched Spike in the jaw. Or tried to. Spike caught his fist before it even got near him.
"Let me go, Spike, or so help me God, I will stake you," Xander ground out.
Spike tightened his grip, his cold blue eyes watching as realization spread across Xander's face. "Back off," he told Xander, keeping his grip on the boy loose enough so Willow didn't get her brain fried right then and there.
"Spike, let him go." Her voice cut through the men's anger, and they backed away from each other.
"He's chipless, Will, we have to--"
"No, he's not. He's still chipped. He can't, and won't hurt us. Right, Spike?"
Spike shrugged noncommittally. "Haven't decided yet."
Willow rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please. Kill me and you kill yourself. Buffy, remember? Not to mention this bond thing. It might kill you too."
Spike shrugged again, staring off into the night, pretending disinterest.
Xander tried to draw her away from Spike, but she raised their clasped hands. "I can't let go."
Tossing a hate-filled glance at Spike, Xander hugged her a bit. Spike shuddered in disgust.
"This bond thing... did Giles figure it out?"
Willow nodded. "Yeah. He said it would only last for twenty four hours, give or take. Not a big deal. I can handle that." She leaned forward, and whispered, "Not so sure about him though. He kinda hates me."
Xander's eyes gleamed. "So this is hard for him? Maybe even painful?" Willow nodded, grinning at the unabashed glee on Xander's face. "Good."
Willow felt Spike's eyes on her, but ignored him. She had no clue how he felt about her or this whole situation, since he was able to keep his thoughts to himself, but she pretty much figured he was hating every second of it.
~It's not as bad as all that. Though, I'm certainly not enjoying myself. Yet.~
Before Willow had time to contemplate that last bit, Spike moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck. It was a lover's touch, pure and simple, and it nearly sent Xander over the edge.
"You son of a bitch," he yelled, prying Spike's arms away from Willow, while Willow tried to calm Xander down. Xander didn't want to be calmed though. He tore at Spike's hands with blind fury, which made Spike hold on tighter, while Willow held the two of them apart. Spike wouldn't let go of her, and she couldn't exactly force him to. Nor could she stop Xander from taking a swing at Spike. Too late, she realized that Xander's swing was wide and his fist was heading toward her.
Spike's hand shot out, once again halting Xander's fist. Willow breathed a sigh of relief. "God, Xander, he's just trying to get a rise out of you. He's not at fault here anymore than I am. He didn't go up to the demon and say, 'Hey, bind me to that girl over there, it'll be fun!' So stop it, all right?"
Xander nodded angrily. "Fine. But as soon as this is over, he's fair game."
Spike snorted in amusement. "Like to see you try."
"And you," Willow said, brushing Spike's arms off of her. "Leave Xander alone... remember the not taunting thing? That goes both ways."
"Sure, whatever." He started dragging her away from the still fuming Xander. "Come on, let's go, I wanna go to bed."
Willow rolled her eyes at her vampire companion. "You're a jerk, you know that? And your double standards are amazing."
"So I've been told."
"He's kidding, Xander," she called over her shoulder, allowing Spike to drag her away simply because she was too tired to continue to fight him.
"No, I'm not," Spike taunted with a laugh. "Oh, calm down," he told Willow, "he deserved it. What right does he have to judge me? I am what I am, and I make no apologies."
Willow looked at him askance. "Okay, Popeye. Did you ever think that maybe that's why he hates you so much? You want us to think you've changed, but you never stop threatening us, or taunting us, or treating us like dirt."
Spike rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. "I am not about to be dragged into a philosophical discussion with a teenager. Let's just not talk, all right? When the bond is over, we can go about our own lives, and forget this ever happened."
"No bloody way," Spike ground out. "I am not about to sleep on the floor. You sleep on the floor." The witch actually expected him to sleep beside her bed like a dog? Not while he had a say in it.
"No. This is my room. My bed. And I'm not sleeping with a vampire. It's a rule." She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "My rule. Rule number one in not getting killed: don't sleep with vampires."
Spike snorted condescendingly. "Good rule. Smart, really. Don't worry, you're safe, I already ate." He patted the mattress beneath him and pushed against her leg, trying to get her to move so he could get more comfortable. "I'm not a dog, don't treat me like one. And bloody hell, will you move?"
"No, I won't. And just because you're into domination, doesn't mean everyone else is. It isn't a power thing, it's a simple, 'I don't want to sleep with you, Spike' thing. No offense," she added.
Spike took off his boots and duster, tossing them a few feet away. "Domination? What, just because I'm a vampire you think I like hurting people?" Pausing for a second, he amended his protest. "Well, okay, I do. But, I'm not into bondage and all that crap. That's Dru's and Angelus' bag, not mine."
Willow was looking rather skeptical. "Sure, Spike, and as a Wiccan, I'm not into spells and stuff," she scoffed.
Spike shrugged. "Believe what you want, Red, I could care less." He stood up, tossing his t-shirt on top of his duster. "Change your clothes or whatever now, 'cause once I lay down, I'm not getting back up."
She looked ready to bolt. Her eyes darted from herself, to her dresser, to him, and back again. Half asleep already, Spike had little patience for Willow and her modesty, and had no intention of sleeping any way other than how he always did.
"What are you doing?" Willow yelled when she heard his belt jingling. She turned to see him un-buttoning his jeans. She averted her eyes from him, looking like she wanted to jump up and run away, but she was trapped. "Leave your pants on! I'm not-- fine. I'll sleep on the floor." She grabbed his hand and tugged him to her dresser, pulled open a drawer, hardly paying attention to what she was doing, and grabbed a handful of clothes.
Shorts and t-shirts fell all over the floor, but Willow didn't notice. She turned Spike around, and stood beside him so their arms were touching. Spike was having a hard time not laughing. She had three shirts, and two pairs of shorts piled at her feet, and a trail of them leading from the dresser. In her hands, she had a pair of jean shorts and a small blouse that looked like a bandana.
She was staring at them in dismay, turning the jeans over and over in her hands. Spike bent down with a snicker and handed her a large t-shirt and a pair of elastic waisted shorts, taking the other clothes from her.
"Thanks," she mumbled, quickly changing into the makeshift pajamas.
Spike didn't look, though he was tempted. "Done?" he asked politely. She nodded. "Good, let's go to bed."
"Um, wait."
Thinking she was stalling, Spike growled in impatience. "What now?" Being a vampire, Spike had longer staying powers than humans, he also didn't need as much sleep as humans, but the magic he'd been hit with had sapped him, and he was dead on his feet, which is why he didn't care that he was scaring the girl he had to sleep with. ~Stupid, bloody humans!~ "Do you need a glass of warm milk?" he taunted.
Willow sneered at him. "Fine, you want to wake up as a crispified vampire, I don't care." She shrugged, looking at the French doors, unconcerned.
"Christ," Spike swore. Together they got some blankets out and hung them from the curtain rods across the top. Clothes pins secured them in place, and Spike just about collapsed right there when they were through.
Willow looked tired herself. "Sleep now," she whispered, crawling under the covers, obviously forgetting that she was going to sleep on the floor.
Spike turned off the bedside lamp, curled himself around the sleeping redhead and fell asleep.
Willow woke up slowly, trying to figure out what had awakened her. She laid still, staring at the dark ceiling. There it was again. Oz was nuzzling her neck. Willow smiled to herself, stretching out languidly. Bare skin touched sheets, and Oz's skin. Her pajamas were no longer on her body, and she wondered just how he'd managed the task without waking her up.
"Mmm," she moaned on a long drawn out sigh. "That feels good." She ran her hand down his naked back, holding him close. She loved this. Waking up in Oz's arms, feeling wanted, and loved. There was nothing else like it in the world.
She let her eyes slide shut, and gave herself up to just feeling. His lips gently traced along her neck, jaw, and cheek, before settling on her mouth. She sucked in a breath at the contact, feeling a jolt of familiar electricity shoot through her. It seemed to be stronger tonight, but she didn't stop to wonder why. Her hands moved along his back, and her legs entwined with his, encouraging more contact. His hand caressed her stomach, and hips, his touch so soft and gentle, that she was being lulled back to sleep.
It wasn't until she reached up to her lover's neck that she realized something was... off. Oz didn't wear necklaces, at least not to bed. And, now that she thought about it, he seemed to be a little taller than she remembered. And had he always been this cold?
Realization dawned just as the vampire bit her neck and entered her. Willow screamed as pain shot through her neck, and into her head. She hit and kicked at the vampire above her. He stopped feeding, and held himself still. His fangs left her neck painfully, and she heard a muffled curse, then silence.
She felt like she was suffocating. He wasn't moving, and she thought she'd throw up if he didn't get off of her.
"Get off, get off, get off," she repeated over and over, pushing at his chest, and trying to crawl out from under him.
He roughly grabbed her swinging arms and pinned them above her head. "Hold still," he ground out.
More pain lanced through her head, seeming to ricochet around her brain, stopping just behind her eyes. Feeling even more miserable than before, she whispered, "Don't kill me."
Another curse was followed by a sudden flurry of movement. Her hands were released, and her bedside lamp switched on. She had to close her eyes against the glare, but a few seconds later, she opened her eyes to find Spike above her, an equally surprised look on his face.
Spike was the last person she'd expected to find. Truth be told, as soon as she realized it was a vampire, she'd expected it to be Angelus. Use her, abuse her, and toss her on Buffy's doorstep. That was Angelus' game, so it was with some surprise that she saw Spike, his hair disheveled, his eyes wide, his chest bare. On top of her. Inside of her.
"What the hell is going on?" His eyes took in the room around him, his frown thunderous.
Willow swallowed hard, not wanting to anger him. "I-- I was asleep. I assume you were too... I thought you were Oz."
"Thanks a lot." He stared down at her, his eyes shifting from her face to her neck. "The bond. Right. God, I hate this blasted town, and if you don't stop moving, I'm gonna--" he cut himself off with a sigh.
Willow's eyes widened. Was he going to kill her? "What?"
"Bloody well finish what I started," he ground out.
"Oh," was all Willow could say. She stopped pushing at him. Facing her currently blanket-covered French doors, she closed her eyes and waited for him to climb off of her.
"Yeah, oh," he started to say, then shifted slightly.
Thinking he was finally vacating her personal space, she was quite surprised when she felt his tongue on her neck, licking at the blood there. She resumed her struggles, pushing at his chest. "What are you doing?" she practically screamed.
He growled at her. Actually growled. "I told you to hold still, not bare your bloody neck to me. Do you know how long it's been since I've had warm, human blood?" His voice had softened, almost reverently. He sounded like he was in heaven. And he hadn't stopped licking and sucking at her blood yet.
"Two years?" she hazarded. "Um, could you stop? Please? 'Cause, it's kinda gross, and I don't want to die."
He didn't stop, didn't even acknowledge her.
"Spike?" She was getting scared again. His fangs were scraping against her neck, and she could feel the want and need he had to just sink his fangs into her and drain her dry. He was resisting, but she knew he was losing the battle. "Buffy won't be happy if you kill me."
Instead of startling him into stopping, the mention of Buffy seemed to settle matters. He bit her, eagerly drawing her blood into his mouth, and slid his hands under her back, pressing her closer to him.
Panicked now, Willow pulled her trapped hands free and clawed at his back. "Spike! Stop!" She felt a tingling down her own back, and arched against him, trying to ease the sudden burning there.
Spike lifted his head, staring at her with yellow eyes, and demonic ridges. His fangs glistened with her blood. She shrank away from him, trying her best to disappear into the mattress. He licked his lips and smirked at her, obviously caught in the midst of bloodlust.
~Oh, God, oh God, oh God,~ she repeated in her mind, knowing he was about to kill her. ~Just do it quick.~
His smirk grew, and he pressed himself against her. "Quick? Now where would be the fun in that?" He pressed his mouth to hers, and forced his tongue between her lips.
Willow, tasting her own blood, tried to pull away, but it only made him chuckle. "Spike, you don't want to do this. You don't want me. You want Buffy. Remember Buffy? You love Buffy."
Spike sighed explosively. "Bloody hell, woman, I'm a vampire, not a bleedin' dog."
"Well stop acting like a dog in heat and I'll stop talking to you like one," she shot back, her fear fading slowly when he kept his fangs to himself.
"Watch it, girl, the chip's not giving me any pain, remember? I could easily kill you. Still might."
Oh, and the fear was back, along with an added bonus of disgust. "No, that's okay. I don't need killing. I'm good. But, um, could you get off of me? You're heavy and I need to breathe occasionally."
~Stupid chit wants me to get off of her? Not in this lifetime.~ "Can't."
Willow frowned, hearing his inner monologue. "What do you mean you can't? What happened to not liking pain with your pleasure?"
His eyebrows raised in surprise. "You're in pain?" When she nodded, he grinned at her. "I can fix that."
She opened her mouth to protest, but what came out was a sigh when Spike kissed her. His lips were so soft and tender, so gentle that she couldn't help but enjoy the kiss. Spike kissage. Wow. She'd never imagined that being kissed by Spike could be so pleasurable. But it was. "And how," she whispered.
Spike chuckled against her lips, sending a small shiver of desire through her. His hands, formerly at rest behind her back, were now caressing her stomach and breasts. His fingers were hard and calloused, his hands warm from touching her. He slid out and slowly thrust back into her, leaving her gasping.
Her hands went from pushing at him, to holding him to her. Her tongue dueled with his, her hips arched to meet his, her legs wrapped around him. The pain was gone, and pleasure had taken over.
As she was nearing orgasm, Spike pulled his mouth from hers, and bit into her neck again. This time, there wasn't any pain. Only pleasure. She tightened around him, biting her lip to keep from screaming his name. He followed almost immediately, whispering something against her neck.
He rolled off of her and pulled her against him, his legs curling around hers, his arm around her stomach. Willow relaxed against him with a sigh, vowing to be angry later, when she could storm away from him.
"Told ya," Spike chuckled.
Willow rolled her eyes. "Gosh, I wonder why Buffy won't have anything to do with you with romantic talk like that."
Spike stiffened and pulled away from her. "Yeah, let's do bring up Buffy as much as possible." He sat up, leaning against the wall, and resting an arm on his bent knee. "Hey, how's the blonde witch doing? Good?" He sneered at her, enjoying the guilt that flashed in her eyes.
She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. Pulling away from Spike experimentally, she was overjoyed when she didn't fall into convulsions. Sliding out of bed, she wrapped the sheet around her and glared at him.
"What's the matter? Buffy a touchy subject?" she asked innocently.
Spike glared at her, not bothering to cover up his own nudity. "This isn't about Buffy. Has nothing to do with her."
"Bzzt! I'm sorry, that's the wrong answer. The correct answer is; this has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Buffy." She grabbed her pajamas off the floor and sat down in her desk chair to put them on.
"How do you figure that? She wasn't the one I just shagged. You were."
He stood up, and Willow hastily averted her eyes, busying herself with trying to dress and hold up the sheet at the same time. While he was occupied with putting on his jeans, she slid her shirt over her head and stepped into her shorts. He turned back, buttoning his jeans, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Hey, not in here you don't. Go outside." She pushed him toward the French doors.
He shrugged and went outside, sitting in one of the plastic chairs on the small stone patio. Willow joined him, choosing to lean against the wall with her arms folded over her chest.
"Yeah, you just... uh, shagged me, but only physically. You were thinking about her."
"And you weren't thinking about the witch?" He sat back, stretching out his legs, watching her as smoke curled lazily around his head.
Willow laughed out loud at the idea. "Spike, um, I know you aren't exactly fond of Tara, but you do know she's a girl, right? And as a girl, she doesn't have a--" Willow's eyes fell to Spike's crotch, and her face started flaming. "Uh, you know. So, no, I wasn't thinking about her."
Now it was Spike's turn to laugh. "How old are you again? And you can't even say the damn word? It's called a di--"
"Penis!" Willow interrupted, her face flaming even more. She pushed away from the wall and went to stand at the edge of the patio, staring into the night. "God, Spike, do you always have to be so crude? Never mind," she told him, knowing without looking that he was about to answer with something crude. Just to spite her. Jerk. "Point is, Tara's a girl, you're a guy. She doesn't have a... penis. You do. So, I didn't once think about her."
"And you happen to know I was thinking about Buffy how? Are you psychic all of a sudden?"
She tossed him a look that just screamed, 'duh!' "Bonded, remember?" She heard one of the chairs scrape against the stones behind her.
"And what's the big deal anyway?" he asked, ignoring her interjection. "It was just sex."
She shrugged, inhaling the cool night air. "You said Buffy has nothing to do with this." She turned around, surprised to find him right behind her. She took a step back and rubbed her arms. "But she does. She's the reason it happened at all."
Spike shook his head, disagreeing. "Not true."
"Is too. You were dreaming about her when you, um... and I thought you were Oz--"
Spike tossed his cigarette to the grass, and stepped forward menacingly, obviously offended. "Hey! Have I got an overabundance of hair? Don't think so. And I'm plenty taller than his, what? Four foot height?"
She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. "Well, duh, that's how I figured out that you weren't him. The height thing, not the hair thing, 'cause, hello, he's not wolfy all the time, and definitely never, ever when we--" She shuddered in disgust. "Forget it." Chilled in the cool air, and wearing a lack of clothing, she went back inside.
Spike followed her through the doors, shutting them behind him. "And I wasn't dreaming about the Slayer."
Willow sat on her bed, covering up. "Oh. Harmony then?"
Spike raised an eyebrow at her. "In her dreams."
Willow sighed in impatience. "Dru then. Whoever. The point is--"
"Wasn't Dru either." He sighed regretfully. "Haven't dreamed about her in a long time."
Running out of people that Spike might have been dreaming about, Willow chewed on her thumbnail. "Um, Angel?"
Spike shot up out of his chair as if he'd sat on a stake. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" he growled, advancing on her.
Willow pressed back against the wall, out of reach of the irate vampire. She hoped. "Um, sorry, Angelus then."
Spike reached out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him. Nope, not out of reach. Pain lanced through her arm, reminding her how much she'd been manhandled tonight. An answering pain shot through her head, and she wondered at it, but forgot it as soon as she saw the fury on Spike's face.
"What kind of sick fantasies have you got swimming around that head of yours?" he hissed, barely controlling himself.
She could see how much he wanted to hurt her, but he didn't make a move against her. "N-- none. Um, you're a demon. Demons are pretty uncaring about who or even what they sleep with... aren't they?" she asked hesitantly, suddenly unsure of her logic.
"We're immoral, is that it? We don't care if the person or demon is even alive, just as long as it has the right parts?" Spike shoved her away from him, and she fell to the bed with a bounce. "Is that what you all think?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, yeah, you are immoral. Pretty much, the word describes you to a T. And I don't know what Buffy thinks. We've never talked about it." She rubbed her sore wrist, watching him curiously as he sat back down. "I just assumed... I mean, aren't vampires supposed to be close to their sires?"
Spike grinned, smirking at her. "I was. Dru and I were together for over a hundred years... I'd call that a close relationship. Darla and Angelus were pretty close too."
Willow sat up, frowning. "Dru? Drusilla's your sire? Wait. When did this happen? Angelus is your sire," she told him, realizing even as she said it that he would know better than her who his sire was. "So you and Angelus never...?"
The smile left his face, replaced by a frown. "Never. And if you say it again, I'm going to have to kill you. I don't like being linked with that poofter. He may swing that way, but I don't. Dru, Harmony, Buffy... sensing a pattern here, Red? Oh, and--" he sucked in a dramatic breath, "you."
Willow yawned and curled up under the covers again. "Yeah, well, I didn't really have a choice, now did I? And, um, could you sort of... not tell anyone. Not that you would. Especially Buffy, 'cause she'd probably kill you right then and there."
Spike snapped his fingers in an 'aw shucks' fashion. "Oh, darn, there goes my plan to rush over to Buffy's house and tell her that I just shagged her best friend. And here I was, thinking she'd high five me and drag me to bed," he said dryly.
"Okay, you're just abusing sarcasm now."
Spike laughed at the disgruntled look on her face. "You expected differently, pet? I'm immoral, remember?"
Willow shook her head tiredly. Exhaustion had settled over her once more. "Nope."
She was drifting off to sleep just as Spike left the room. "Thanks for the shag, Witch."
Spike went downstairs, and grabbed a bag of blood from the fridge. Draining it into a mug, he heated it in the microwave and sat at the table to drink it. He wasn't hungry, but he needed to do something to get the taste of Willow's blood out of his mouth and his mind. It was so rich and full of innocence and magic that he was tempted to kidnap her and tie her up somewhere, to feed off of her. She wasn't just a one time meal. She was someone to keep around for a long time.
Plus there was that whole bond thing still happening.
She hadn't realized it yet, but they were still bound. The pain from his implant hadn't hurt him since the Litchock demon attacked them. It was still there, and still working, but Willow was getting the pain.
He could hurt humans again. Kill them. But would he? He wanted to... more than anything he wanted to walk out that door and become a hunter again. Stalk his prey like a good vampire should.
So, why wasn't he?
The answer was simple; Buffy, and Willow. If it weren't for the bond with Willow, he wouldn't care what she thought, but she was connected to him, and she would know. Then Buffy would too.
Spike downed the last bit of blood in the mug, and headed back upstairs. The continuation of the bond was a mystery to him. It should have ended. Giles said physical contact was needed for the duration of the bond, but that had ended sometime earlier, and they were still bound. So far, he was getting the better part of the deal.
Willow got the pain from his implant, and, he suspected, anything else that caused him pain. He'd seen her wince when she scraped her nails down his back. What did he get out of the bond?
Knowing his luck, he'd get her emotions.
He paused in her doorway, watching her as she slept. She was in the same position she'd been in when he left the room. One hand under her cheek, the other resting on top of the covers. She looked peaceful. Sweet. Tasty.
Shaking his head, he stripped off his jeans and climbed back into bed with her. Why waste an opportunity? She was a good shag. He pulled her back against his chest, and brushed her hair off of her neck, inhaling her scent.
PART 3
After getting the extra blood Spike kept at his crypt, he and Willow headed to her house. Her parents were gone for the week, visiting friends at the lake. Willow found herself wishing she hadn't turned them down when they asked her to join them. Hindsight was a bastard of a thing. After the lake, the Rosenberg's were going on a European tour, seeing basically everything there is to see. They'd be gone the whole summer.
As it was, Spike and Willow would have the whole house to themselves, unfortunately they had to remain in extremely close quarters for the next twenty two hours or so.
So not looking forward to that, she thought. Her thoughts were pretty much open for him to come in and take a peek, had he wanted to, but apparently, he didn't, for which she was grateful. Trying to shield her thoughts from him was taxing.
Willow raised her hand to rub her head, but was stopped by Spike yanking it down again. Oh, yeah, Spike hand-holding. That was on a level that was so weird and creepy that she didn't even want to think about it.
"Company," Spike said wearily, sounding as tired as she felt. "Bloody hell," he muttered when he saw who it was.
Willow desperately tried to hide their clasped hands behind her back, but she knew it was fruitless. Judging by Xander's narrowed eyes, he'd already seen them.
"It's not what you think," Willow said immediately.
Spike snorted contemptuously. "You mean he can think?"
Xander didn't stop for conversation, he simply walked up to them, and punched Spike in the jaw. Or tried to. Spike caught his fist before it even got near him.
"Let me go, Spike, or so help me God, I will stake you," Xander ground out.
Spike tightened his grip, his cold blue eyes watching as realization spread across Xander's face. "Back off," he told Xander, keeping his grip on the boy loose enough so Willow didn't get her brain fried right then and there.
"Spike, let him go." Her voice cut through the men's anger, and they backed away from each other.
"He's chipless, Will, we have to--"
"No, he's not. He's still chipped. He can't, and won't hurt us. Right, Spike?"
Spike shrugged noncommittally. "Haven't decided yet."
Willow rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please. Kill me and you kill yourself. Buffy, remember? Not to mention this bond thing. It might kill you too."
Spike shrugged again, staring off into the night, pretending disinterest.
Xander tried to draw her away from Spike, but she raised their clasped hands. "I can't let go."
Tossing a hate-filled glance at Spike, Xander hugged her a bit. Spike shuddered in disgust.
"This bond thing... did Giles figure it out?"
Willow nodded. "Yeah. He said it would only last for twenty four hours, give or take. Not a big deal. I can handle that." She leaned forward, and whispered, "Not so sure about him though. He kinda hates me."
Xander's eyes gleamed. "So this is hard for him? Maybe even painful?" Willow nodded, grinning at the unabashed glee on Xander's face. "Good."
Willow felt Spike's eyes on her, but ignored him. She had no clue how he felt about her or this whole situation, since he was able to keep his thoughts to himself, but she pretty much figured he was hating every second of it.
~It's not as bad as all that. Though, I'm certainly not enjoying myself. Yet.~
Before Willow had time to contemplate that last bit, Spike moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck. It was a lover's touch, pure and simple, and it nearly sent Xander over the edge.
"You son of a bitch," he yelled, prying Spike's arms away from Willow, while Willow tried to calm Xander down. Xander didn't want to be calmed though. He tore at Spike's hands with blind fury, which made Spike hold on tighter, while Willow held the two of them apart. Spike wouldn't let go of her, and she couldn't exactly force him to. Nor could she stop Xander from taking a swing at Spike. Too late, she realized that Xander's swing was wide and his fist was heading toward her.
Spike's hand shot out, once again halting Xander's fist. Willow breathed a sigh of relief. "God, Xander, he's just trying to get a rise out of you. He's not at fault here anymore than I am. He didn't go up to the demon and say, 'Hey, bind me to that girl over there, it'll be fun!' So stop it, all right?"
Xander nodded angrily. "Fine. But as soon as this is over, he's fair game."
Spike snorted in amusement. "Like to see you try."
"And you," Willow said, brushing Spike's arms off of her. "Leave Xander alone... remember the not taunting thing? That goes both ways."
"Sure, whatever." He started dragging her away from the still fuming Xander. "Come on, let's go, I wanna go to bed."
Willow rolled her eyes at her vampire companion. "You're a jerk, you know that? And your double standards are amazing."
"So I've been told."
"He's kidding, Xander," she called over her shoulder, allowing Spike to drag her away simply because she was too tired to continue to fight him.
"No, I'm not," Spike taunted with a laugh. "Oh, calm down," he told Willow, "he deserved it. What right does he have to judge me? I am what I am, and I make no apologies."
Willow looked at him askance. "Okay, Popeye. Did you ever think that maybe that's why he hates you so much? You want us to think you've changed, but you never stop threatening us, or taunting us, or treating us like dirt."
Spike rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. "I am not about to be dragged into a philosophical discussion with a teenager. Let's just not talk, all right? When the bond is over, we can go about our own lives, and forget this ever happened."
"No bloody way," Spike ground out. "I am not about to sleep on the floor. You sleep on the floor." The witch actually expected him to sleep beside her bed like a dog? Not while he had a say in it.
"No. This is my room. My bed. And I'm not sleeping with a vampire. It's a rule." She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "My rule. Rule number one in not getting killed: don't sleep with vampires."
Spike snorted condescendingly. "Good rule. Smart, really. Don't worry, you're safe, I already ate." He patted the mattress beneath him and pushed against her leg, trying to get her to move so he could get more comfortable. "I'm not a dog, don't treat me like one. And bloody hell, will you move?"
"No, I won't. And just because you're into domination, doesn't mean everyone else is. It isn't a power thing, it's a simple, 'I don't want to sleep with you, Spike' thing. No offense," she added.
Spike took off his boots and duster, tossing them a few feet away. "Domination? What, just because I'm a vampire you think I like hurting people?" Pausing for a second, he amended his protest. "Well, okay, I do. But, I'm not into bondage and all that crap. That's Dru's and Angelus' bag, not mine."
Willow was looking rather skeptical. "Sure, Spike, and as a Wiccan, I'm not into spells and stuff," she scoffed.
Spike shrugged. "Believe what you want, Red, I could care less." He stood up, tossing his t-shirt on top of his duster. "Change your clothes or whatever now, 'cause once I lay down, I'm not getting back up."
She looked ready to bolt. Her eyes darted from herself, to her dresser, to him, and back again. Half asleep already, Spike had little patience for Willow and her modesty, and had no intention of sleeping any way other than how he always did.
"What are you doing?" Willow yelled when she heard his belt jingling. She turned to see him un-buttoning his jeans. She averted her eyes from him, looking like she wanted to jump up and run away, but she was trapped. "Leave your pants on! I'm not-- fine. I'll sleep on the floor." She grabbed his hand and tugged him to her dresser, pulled open a drawer, hardly paying attention to what she was doing, and grabbed a handful of clothes.
Shorts and t-shirts fell all over the floor, but Willow didn't notice. She turned Spike around, and stood beside him so their arms were touching. Spike was having a hard time not laughing. She had three shirts, and two pairs of shorts piled at her feet, and a trail of them leading from the dresser. In her hands, she had a pair of jean shorts and a small blouse that looked like a bandana.
She was staring at them in dismay, turning the jeans over and over in her hands. Spike bent down with a snicker and handed her a large t-shirt and a pair of elastic waisted shorts, taking the other clothes from her.
"Thanks," she mumbled, quickly changing into the makeshift pajamas.
Spike didn't look, though he was tempted. "Done?" he asked politely. She nodded. "Good, let's go to bed."
"Um, wait."
Thinking she was stalling, Spike growled in impatience. "What now?" Being a vampire, Spike had longer staying powers than humans, he also didn't need as much sleep as humans, but the magic he'd been hit with had sapped him, and he was dead on his feet, which is why he didn't care that he was scaring the girl he had to sleep with. ~Stupid, bloody humans!~ "Do you need a glass of warm milk?" he taunted.
Willow sneered at him. "Fine, you want to wake up as a crispified vampire, I don't care." She shrugged, looking at the French doors, unconcerned.
"Christ," Spike swore. Together they got some blankets out and hung them from the curtain rods across the top. Clothes pins secured them in place, and Spike just about collapsed right there when they were through.
Willow looked tired herself. "Sleep now," she whispered, crawling under the covers, obviously forgetting that she was going to sleep on the floor.
Spike turned off the bedside lamp, curled himself around the sleeping redhead and fell asleep.
Willow woke up slowly, trying to figure out what had awakened her. She laid still, staring at the dark ceiling. There it was again. Oz was nuzzling her neck. Willow smiled to herself, stretching out languidly. Bare skin touched sheets, and Oz's skin. Her pajamas were no longer on her body, and she wondered just how he'd managed the task without waking her up.
"Mmm," she moaned on a long drawn out sigh. "That feels good." She ran her hand down his naked back, holding him close. She loved this. Waking up in Oz's arms, feeling wanted, and loved. There was nothing else like it in the world.
She let her eyes slide shut, and gave herself up to just feeling. His lips gently traced along her neck, jaw, and cheek, before settling on her mouth. She sucked in a breath at the contact, feeling a jolt of familiar electricity shoot through her. It seemed to be stronger tonight, but she didn't stop to wonder why. Her hands moved along his back, and her legs entwined with his, encouraging more contact. His hand caressed her stomach, and hips, his touch so soft and gentle, that she was being lulled back to sleep.
It wasn't until she reached up to her lover's neck that she realized something was... off. Oz didn't wear necklaces, at least not to bed. And, now that she thought about it, he seemed to be a little taller than she remembered. And had he always been this cold?
Realization dawned just as the vampire bit her neck and entered her. Willow screamed as pain shot through her neck, and into her head. She hit and kicked at the vampire above her. He stopped feeding, and held himself still. His fangs left her neck painfully, and she heard a muffled curse, then silence.
She felt like she was suffocating. He wasn't moving, and she thought she'd throw up if he didn't get off of her.
"Get off, get off, get off," she repeated over and over, pushing at his chest, and trying to crawl out from under him.
He roughly grabbed her swinging arms and pinned them above her head. "Hold still," he ground out.
More pain lanced through her head, seeming to ricochet around her brain, stopping just behind her eyes. Feeling even more miserable than before, she whispered, "Don't kill me."
Another curse was followed by a sudden flurry of movement. Her hands were released, and her bedside lamp switched on. She had to close her eyes against the glare, but a few seconds later, she opened her eyes to find Spike above her, an equally surprised look on his face.
Spike was the last person she'd expected to find. Truth be told, as soon as she realized it was a vampire, she'd expected it to be Angelus. Use her, abuse her, and toss her on Buffy's doorstep. That was Angelus' game, so it was with some surprise that she saw Spike, his hair disheveled, his eyes wide, his chest bare. On top of her. Inside of her.
"What the hell is going on?" His eyes took in the room around him, his frown thunderous.
Willow swallowed hard, not wanting to anger him. "I-- I was asleep. I assume you were too... I thought you were Oz."
"Thanks a lot." He stared down at her, his eyes shifting from her face to her neck. "The bond. Right. God, I hate this blasted town, and if you don't stop moving, I'm gonna--" he cut himself off with a sigh.
Willow's eyes widened. Was he going to kill her? "What?"
"Bloody well finish what I started," he ground out.
"Oh," was all Willow could say. She stopped pushing at him. Facing her currently blanket-covered French doors, she closed her eyes and waited for him to climb off of her.
"Yeah, oh," he started to say, then shifted slightly.
Thinking he was finally vacating her personal space, she was quite surprised when she felt his tongue on her neck, licking at the blood there. She resumed her struggles, pushing at his chest. "What are you doing?" she practically screamed.
He growled at her. Actually growled. "I told you to hold still, not bare your bloody neck to me. Do you know how long it's been since I've had warm, human blood?" His voice had softened, almost reverently. He sounded like he was in heaven. And he hadn't stopped licking and sucking at her blood yet.
"Two years?" she hazarded. "Um, could you stop? Please? 'Cause, it's kinda gross, and I don't want to die."
He didn't stop, didn't even acknowledge her.
"Spike?" She was getting scared again. His fangs were scraping against her neck, and she could feel the want and need he had to just sink his fangs into her and drain her dry. He was resisting, but she knew he was losing the battle. "Buffy won't be happy if you kill me."
Instead of startling him into stopping, the mention of Buffy seemed to settle matters. He bit her, eagerly drawing her blood into his mouth, and slid his hands under her back, pressing her closer to him.
Panicked now, Willow pulled her trapped hands free and clawed at his back. "Spike! Stop!" She felt a tingling down her own back, and arched against him, trying to ease the sudden burning there.
Spike lifted his head, staring at her with yellow eyes, and demonic ridges. His fangs glistened with her blood. She shrank away from him, trying her best to disappear into the mattress. He licked his lips and smirked at her, obviously caught in the midst of bloodlust.
~Oh, God, oh God, oh God,~ she repeated in her mind, knowing he was about to kill her. ~Just do it quick.~
His smirk grew, and he pressed himself against her. "Quick? Now where would be the fun in that?" He pressed his mouth to hers, and forced his tongue between her lips.
Willow, tasting her own blood, tried to pull away, but it only made him chuckle. "Spike, you don't want to do this. You don't want me. You want Buffy. Remember Buffy? You love Buffy."
Spike sighed explosively. "Bloody hell, woman, I'm a vampire, not a bleedin' dog."
"Well stop acting like a dog in heat and I'll stop talking to you like one," she shot back, her fear fading slowly when he kept his fangs to himself.
"Watch it, girl, the chip's not giving me any pain, remember? I could easily kill you. Still might."
Oh, and the fear was back, along with an added bonus of disgust. "No, that's okay. I don't need killing. I'm good. But, um, could you get off of me? You're heavy and I need to breathe occasionally."
~Stupid chit wants me to get off of her? Not in this lifetime.~ "Can't."
Willow frowned, hearing his inner monologue. "What do you mean you can't? What happened to not liking pain with your pleasure?"
His eyebrows raised in surprise. "You're in pain?" When she nodded, he grinned at her. "I can fix that."
She opened her mouth to protest, but what came out was a sigh when Spike kissed her. His lips were so soft and tender, so gentle that she couldn't help but enjoy the kiss. Spike kissage. Wow. She'd never imagined that being kissed by Spike could be so pleasurable. But it was. "And how," she whispered.
Spike chuckled against her lips, sending a small shiver of desire through her. His hands, formerly at rest behind her back, were now caressing her stomach and breasts. His fingers were hard and calloused, his hands warm from touching her. He slid out and slowly thrust back into her, leaving her gasping.
Her hands went from pushing at him, to holding him to her. Her tongue dueled with his, her hips arched to meet his, her legs wrapped around him. The pain was gone, and pleasure had taken over.
As she was nearing orgasm, Spike pulled his mouth from hers, and bit into her neck again. This time, there wasn't any pain. Only pleasure. She tightened around him, biting her lip to keep from screaming his name. He followed almost immediately, whispering something against her neck.
He rolled off of her and pulled her against him, his legs curling around hers, his arm around her stomach. Willow relaxed against him with a sigh, vowing to be angry later, when she could storm away from him.
"Told ya," Spike chuckled.
Willow rolled her eyes. "Gosh, I wonder why Buffy won't have anything to do with you with romantic talk like that."
Spike stiffened and pulled away from her. "Yeah, let's do bring up Buffy as much as possible." He sat up, leaning against the wall, and resting an arm on his bent knee. "Hey, how's the blonde witch doing? Good?" He sneered at her, enjoying the guilt that flashed in her eyes.
She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. Pulling away from Spike experimentally, she was overjoyed when she didn't fall into convulsions. Sliding out of bed, she wrapped the sheet around her and glared at him.
"What's the matter? Buffy a touchy subject?" she asked innocently.
Spike glared at her, not bothering to cover up his own nudity. "This isn't about Buffy. Has nothing to do with her."
"Bzzt! I'm sorry, that's the wrong answer. The correct answer is; this has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Buffy." She grabbed her pajamas off the floor and sat down in her desk chair to put them on.
"How do you figure that? She wasn't the one I just shagged. You were."
He stood up, and Willow hastily averted her eyes, busying herself with trying to dress and hold up the sheet at the same time. While he was occupied with putting on his jeans, she slid her shirt over her head and stepped into her shorts. He turned back, buttoning his jeans, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Hey, not in here you don't. Go outside." She pushed him toward the French doors.
He shrugged and went outside, sitting in one of the plastic chairs on the small stone patio. Willow joined him, choosing to lean against the wall with her arms folded over her chest.
"Yeah, you just... uh, shagged me, but only physically. You were thinking about her."
"And you weren't thinking about the witch?" He sat back, stretching out his legs, watching her as smoke curled lazily around his head.
Willow laughed out loud at the idea. "Spike, um, I know you aren't exactly fond of Tara, but you do know she's a girl, right? And as a girl, she doesn't have a--" Willow's eyes fell to Spike's crotch, and her face started flaming. "Uh, you know. So, no, I wasn't thinking about her."
Now it was Spike's turn to laugh. "How old are you again? And you can't even say the damn word? It's called a di--"
"Penis!" Willow interrupted, her face flaming even more. She pushed away from the wall and went to stand at the edge of the patio, staring into the night. "God, Spike, do you always have to be so crude? Never mind," she told him, knowing without looking that he was about to answer with something crude. Just to spite her. Jerk. "Point is, Tara's a girl, you're a guy. She doesn't have a... penis. You do. So, I didn't once think about her."
"And you happen to know I was thinking about Buffy how? Are you psychic all of a sudden?"
She tossed him a look that just screamed, 'duh!' "Bonded, remember?" She heard one of the chairs scrape against the stones behind her.
"And what's the big deal anyway?" he asked, ignoring her interjection. "It was just sex."
She shrugged, inhaling the cool night air. "You said Buffy has nothing to do with this." She turned around, surprised to find him right behind her. She took a step back and rubbed her arms. "But she does. She's the reason it happened at all."
Spike shook his head, disagreeing. "Not true."
"Is too. You were dreaming about her when you, um... and I thought you were Oz--"
Spike tossed his cigarette to the grass, and stepped forward menacingly, obviously offended. "Hey! Have I got an overabundance of hair? Don't think so. And I'm plenty taller than his, what? Four foot height?"
She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. "Well, duh, that's how I figured out that you weren't him. The height thing, not the hair thing, 'cause, hello, he's not wolfy all the time, and definitely never, ever when we--" She shuddered in disgust. "Forget it." Chilled in the cool air, and wearing a lack of clothing, she went back inside.
Spike followed her through the doors, shutting them behind him. "And I wasn't dreaming about the Slayer."
Willow sat on her bed, covering up. "Oh. Harmony then?"
Spike raised an eyebrow at her. "In her dreams."
Willow sighed in impatience. "Dru then. Whoever. The point is--"
"Wasn't Dru either." He sighed regretfully. "Haven't dreamed about her in a long time."
Running out of people that Spike might have been dreaming about, Willow chewed on her thumbnail. "Um, Angel?"
Spike shot up out of his chair as if he'd sat on a stake. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" he growled, advancing on her.
Willow pressed back against the wall, out of reach of the irate vampire. She hoped. "Um, sorry, Angelus then."
Spike reached out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him. Nope, not out of reach. Pain lanced through her arm, reminding her how much she'd been manhandled tonight. An answering pain shot through her head, and she wondered at it, but forgot it as soon as she saw the fury on Spike's face.
"What kind of sick fantasies have you got swimming around that head of yours?" he hissed, barely controlling himself.
She could see how much he wanted to hurt her, but he didn't make a move against her. "N-- none. Um, you're a demon. Demons are pretty uncaring about who or even what they sleep with... aren't they?" she asked hesitantly, suddenly unsure of her logic.
"We're immoral, is that it? We don't care if the person or demon is even alive, just as long as it has the right parts?" Spike shoved her away from him, and she fell to the bed with a bounce. "Is that what you all think?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, yeah, you are immoral. Pretty much, the word describes you to a T. And I don't know what Buffy thinks. We've never talked about it." She rubbed her sore wrist, watching him curiously as he sat back down. "I just assumed... I mean, aren't vampires supposed to be close to their sires?"
Spike grinned, smirking at her. "I was. Dru and I were together for over a hundred years... I'd call that a close relationship. Darla and Angelus were pretty close too."
Willow sat up, frowning. "Dru? Drusilla's your sire? Wait. When did this happen? Angelus is your sire," she told him, realizing even as she said it that he would know better than her who his sire was. "So you and Angelus never...?"
The smile left his face, replaced by a frown. "Never. And if you say it again, I'm going to have to kill you. I don't like being linked with that poofter. He may swing that way, but I don't. Dru, Harmony, Buffy... sensing a pattern here, Red? Oh, and--" he sucked in a dramatic breath, "you."
Willow yawned and curled up under the covers again. "Yeah, well, I didn't really have a choice, now did I? And, um, could you sort of... not tell anyone. Not that you would. Especially Buffy, 'cause she'd probably kill you right then and there."
Spike snapped his fingers in an 'aw shucks' fashion. "Oh, darn, there goes my plan to rush over to Buffy's house and tell her that I just shagged her best friend. And here I was, thinking she'd high five me and drag me to bed," he said dryly.
"Okay, you're just abusing sarcasm now."
Spike laughed at the disgruntled look on her face. "You expected differently, pet? I'm immoral, remember?"
Willow shook her head tiredly. Exhaustion had settled over her once more. "Nope."
She was drifting off to sleep just as Spike left the room. "Thanks for the shag, Witch."
Spike went downstairs, and grabbed a bag of blood from the fridge. Draining it into a mug, he heated it in the microwave and sat at the table to drink it. He wasn't hungry, but he needed to do something to get the taste of Willow's blood out of his mouth and his mind. It was so rich and full of innocence and magic that he was tempted to kidnap her and tie her up somewhere, to feed off of her. She wasn't just a one time meal. She was someone to keep around for a long time.
Plus there was that whole bond thing still happening.
She hadn't realized it yet, but they were still bound. The pain from his implant hadn't hurt him since the Litchock demon attacked them. It was still there, and still working, but Willow was getting the pain.
He could hurt humans again. Kill them. But would he? He wanted to... more than anything he wanted to walk out that door and become a hunter again. Stalk his prey like a good vampire should.
So, why wasn't he?
The answer was simple; Buffy, and Willow. If it weren't for the bond with Willow, he wouldn't care what she thought, but she was connected to him, and she would know. Then Buffy would too.
Spike downed the last bit of blood in the mug, and headed back upstairs. The continuation of the bond was a mystery to him. It should have ended. Giles said physical contact was needed for the duration of the bond, but that had ended sometime earlier, and they were still bound. So far, he was getting the better part of the deal.
Willow got the pain from his implant, and, he suspected, anything else that caused him pain. He'd seen her wince when she scraped her nails down his back. What did he get out of the bond?
Knowing his luck, he'd get her emotions.
He paused in her doorway, watching her as she slept. She was in the same position she'd been in when he left the room. One hand under her cheek, the other resting on top of the covers. She looked peaceful. Sweet. Tasty.
Shaking his head, he stripped off his jeans and climbed back into bed with her. Why waste an opportunity? She was a good shag. He pulled her back against his chest, and brushed her hair off of her neck, inhaling her scent.