Disclaimer: See part 1, or 6.
PART 9
The next afternoon, Willow was ensconced in her bed, with her laptop on her lap, and a snarl on her lips. "Stupid mouse." She shook it unnecessarily, knowing it wouldn't help in the slightest, but feeling better for having done so. She'd gotten lazy lately, used to using an external mouse with her laptop, since most of the time it was on a table, or another flat surface. The small pad on the keyboard wasn't as easy to use anymore, so she tended not to.
And, when one was bedridden-- strike that. When one was forcibly bedridden, using an external mouse could be difficult. And when one was not allowed to so much as cough without someone running in to see if she was okay... well, that got a little frustrating.
She shut the laptop down, yanked the mouse cord from the back, and slammed the top shut, setting both on top of her nightstand. "Stupid laptop." And really, did it stop there? No. "Stupid friends," she added, sitting back with what some might term a pout, but was definitely not a pout. It was more a frustrated pursing of the lips. Or a-- she sighed heavily. Now she was reduced to arguing with herself about her facial expressions.
Seeing someone walk by her open bedroom door, she called out to them. A little company right about now would be great. She sat straighter, propping another pillow behind her back. Actually, it would've been great at anytime over the past twelve hours.
Xander rushed back, stopping in the doorway. He pointed the way he'd been heading, shrugging apologetically. "I was just-- bathroom. Sorry."
Willow's head dropped back on her pillow with a groan.
"Bloody boring, these friends of yours are," Spike said from the doorway.
"Oh," she said happily. "Someone's actually talking to me." Patting the bed beside her, she scooted over with a grin. "Sit. Talk. Please." She'd happily admit she was begging for company if it got her some.
He stayed leaning against the doorjamb, with his arms and ankles crossed. "Why don't you just tell them to bugger off?"
Willow laughed, imagining lining all her friends up and telling them to bugger off. "Yeah, that'd make them leave faster," she scoffed. "Besides, they're only concerned about me. Can't really fault them for that."
"Yes I can," he griped, pushing away from the doorjamb. "Haven't had a minute to myself since they paraded over here. I'm half tempted to go back to my crypt, but I can't seem to make myself give up the soft bed." Stepping further into the room, he glanced about, like he'd never seen it before. Like he hadn't spent several nights in there, in the very bed she was sitting on. The soft bed. Her soft bed, with her in it.
Good thing she had all these really pretty bruises all over her face, otherwise she was sure he'd see the blush stealing across her cheeks. "Any luck?" she asked, placing the books piled beside her on the floor. At his raised eyebrow over his shoulder at her, she clarified, "Finding the cause of the hallucinations."
"Not yet." He lifted the blanket still covering her French doors just a bit. Sunlight flooded across her face, forcing her to squint through her good eye. He dropped the blanket back into place with a sigh. "Although for a minute there, we thought we'd found something. Turned out to be a false alarm since we're not being eaten from the inside out by--"
"Parasites. Yeah, I found that too." She leaned back, watching him pace around the room. "Have there been anymore instances?"
In the twelve hours since being driven home by an overprotective Giles, an overly bossy Buffy, and an overly confused Xander, she hadn't had much time to talk to Spike. Not that there was anything dire she needed to speak to him about, but still it was nice to have the chance to do so if she wanted to. As it was, she was lucky if she got to talk to anyone, let alone someone she wanted to.
Spike shrugged, sitting in her desk chair. "Nobody tells me anything, unless they think I did it."
Ignoring what was most likely a very fundamental truth, she said, "You know, I've been thinking." She glared at the doorway and the distant sounds of voices from downstairs. "I've had plenty of alone time to do just that. But, I was thinking--"
"Excuse me," Xander rudely interrupted from the doorway. "What are you doing in here, Spike?" He gave Willow a sideways look, full of disappointment. "Willow, he's--"
She sighed heavily, once again dropping her head back on her pillow. "A vampire. Evil. Going to kill us all one day. Using me to get to Buffy." She lifted her head, fixing Xander with narrowed eyes. "That about cover it all?"
"Well, yeah," Xander muttered, glaring at Spike when he started laughing. "Shut up."
"Good," Willow told him, then waved her hands at him imperiously. "Go away, we're talking."
Spike snickered a whole heck of a lot at Xander, not bothering to hide his amusement in the least.
"But, Will--" Xander began, frowning when she cut him off.
"Ah-ah! You've had plenty of chances to talk to me, but you were too busy. Now I'm talking to Spike, so go away." Once again, she fluttered her hands at him in a shooing motion, trying very hard not to laugh at Xander's apoplectic look.
He sighed, and slunk out of the room.
Willow laughed aloud at the dejected look on Xander's face. It'd been a while since she'd had anything to laugh about, and it felt good. But, poor Xander. She'd treated him horribly. The next time he came up, she'd apologize to him.
Spike tilted his head toward the door, then stood up and headed for it. Willow, afraid he was leaving, sat up, wincing a little at the pain in her head. "Don't--"
"Not going anywhere," he told her, shutting the door with a soft click before joining her on the bed. He hopped in beside her, stretched his legs out and leaned back. His hand rubbed the back of his head. "Still hurt?"
"Uh-huh. Not bad though, just a little achy. Yours?" It was weird how his aches and pains hadn't healed quickly with his vampire healing. She still hurt, and he still hurt because of her. But he hadn't complained yet. Not to her anyway.
He grabbed the bottle of aspirin off the table by her bed and a glass of water next to it. Popping open the bottle, he shook out a handful, handing three to her, and taking three himself. She dry swallowed them, but took the glass from him gratefully, handing it back after swallowing a healthy gulp or two of water. Setting the water glass and aspirin bottle back on the nightstand, he settled down more comfortably, sliding his arm around her. "Now what were you thinking about?" he inquired.
After a second or two of uncomfortable awkwardness, she relaxed into him, leaning against his chest a little. Her eyes closed of their own volition. He always made her feel so peaceful. Why was that? she wondered, snuggling just the slightest bit.
"Willow?" He shifted to look down at her, shaking her a bit. "What were you thinking about? Before the moron interrupted you?"
She considered slapping him lightly on the chest for calling Xander a moron, but couldn't find the energy to do it. "About the hallucinations." She forced her eyes open, knowing she'd be falling asleep soon if she didn't. "Um, they sort of strike me as more of a distraction than a danger." She sighed heavily, getting a large dose of Spike-scent. Why did he smell so good? He was dead, he should smell dead. Not like coffee and-- "Cinnamon?" she muttered, looking up at him.
"Cinnamon rolls," he confirmed, a small smile creeping up on one side. "Are you sniffing my clothes, love?"
His voice was normal, his eyes clear and bright, yet he made the words sound dirty. She made a face at him. "Can't help it, you reek of cinnamon, which is better than cigarettes. Anything is better than those things."
"Mm," he agreed absently. "Better get used to them. I'm not quitting anytime soon."
Of course he wouldn't. And she hadn't expected him to, still, she'd continue to badger him about it with the hope that he'd get sick of her complaining and drop the habit. "So, the hallucinations," she said, clearing her throat, "I'm thinking spell."
He stretched his neck from side to side until it cracked, then settled further against her. "A spell to what? Annoy people?"
"Maybe," she said, shrugging helplessly. "Or maybe to occupy us. So far it's only happened to me, you, that Jack guy, and Xander. As far as we know... that is all we know, right?" she asked, sitting up. Spike's arm dropped from her shoulders, leaving her in no way feeling bereft.
"That's all I know. I stopped listening after awhile because demon girl was getting on my nerves."
"She does have a tendency to annoy people," Willow agreed, softly rubbing her bruised cheek. The aspirin wasn't working yet, and her whole face was starting to throb. "But, it's not Xander's fault he saw Cordelia. Anya knew he loved her, hello, that's how we met her."
"I almost felt sorry for him," Spike chuckled. "Until I remembered it was funny." He tilted his head to the side, listening, then sat up.
"Someone coming?" she asked, settling back down on the pillows. Let them catch me laying in bed with Spike, she thought rebelliously, maybe they'll realize that, hey, it wasn't any of their business.
"Just the watcher, and he's too stodgy to bust in here and demand I leave." He laid back again, keeping his arms to himself this time.
She wanted him to hold her, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. To make love-- hold on there. No she didn't. She just wanted comfort from him. Pain had her in its grip and she wanted comfort. That's all.
She shook her head at herself. "Giles isn't 'just' anything," she told him. "He's like a father to me, and a mentor, and-- not the point I was trying to make about the spell." She switched back to the original topic, keeping one eye on the door, just in case Giles did decide to barge in. "Spells have been used before to occupy the adults in town, why not just us? The slayer and her friends?"
"Does this have something to do with candy bars?" he asked.
She looked up at him in surprise. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Rupert mentioned it earlier. Something about babies and a demon in the sewers." He laid back, yanking one of the pillows out from under his head and closed his eyes. "Didn't pay a whole lot of attention, heard it all before."
She rolled onto her right side, propping her head up with her hand. Her eyes, as they always seemed to do lately, fixed on Spike. He didn't look any different than he usually did, so why did she feel so differently about him? Was it all the bond's doing? Or had she always felt something for him? Thinking back, she couldn't ever remember a time when she'd felt anything but dislike for him. If she thought about him at all.
Fear was another thing she'd felt when thinking of Spike. Except that night in her dorm room, when he'd tried to cheer her up. She'd been feeling pretty darn low that night... okay, if she was honest with herself, she'd been feeling low since Oz left. That night had only been worse because she'd found Oz's things gone from his dorm room. Knowing he wouldn't be coming back to her, she'd taken it personally.
When Spike showed up and tried to bite her, then couldn't, she'd taken that personally as well. Not even a vampire wanted her. To kill, but still, she'd been convinced it was because she was un-biteable. Unattractive. Unwanted. Spike assured her otherwise, even remembered the sweater she was wearing the night he kidnaped her and Xander for the love spell. His words had taken the sting out of what she'd perceived as his rejection of her. She'd even calmed enough to return the favor, feeling a small sense of kinship, but as soon as she remembered who he was, she'd gone back to disliking him. The sympathy had reappeared the time he tried to dust himself in Xander's basement, but that was only pity. Then back to the disliking.
That was changing though, and the more time she spent with him, the more she grew to like him. Was that so horrible? She was bound to him, had to live near him for the rest of their lives, and according to the book, it would be a long life indeed. Humans bonded to vampires shared their somewhat immortality. She was going to live a very long time.
Maybe even centuries. Oh boy. That was a daunting thought. Outliving everyone she knew, everyone she loved. She was essentially a vampire without the bad parts. No blood drinking, no killing tendencies, and no aversions to sunlight, crosses, garlic or anything else vampires should avoid.
"I'm immortal," she whispered to herself, trying out the word for the first time.
She shivered lightly when Spike's eyes opened, focusing on her lips before moving up to her eyes. "Just now realizing that?" he asked softly. His eyes dropped to her lips again before sliding closed.
"Uh-huh," she mumbled distractedly, leaning down to press her lips against his before realizing what she was doing. Jerking back before she touched him, she was startled to feel his hand on the back of her head, halting her retreat. Her eyes shot back down to his, finding them still closed. With a light, gentle touch on her head, he forced her to do what she'd wanted to do in the first place. She reached up to touch his cheek before settling her lips softly against his.
It was a light kiss, pleasant and arousing. Unfortunately, her face hurt too much to go any further, and his stomach, still with a stake-sized hole in it, wouldn't allow for more entertaining pastimes. Still, the kissing was nice, and she'd continue to do that until she was forced to stop.
A knock sounded on the door, forcing her to halt way sooner than she wanted to. They sighed into each other's mouths, chuckling at the annoyance in both their voices. She pulled away, dropping to the pillow behind her.
"Come in," she called, hoping her face wasn't as flushed as it felt.
The door opened slowly, almost as if whoever was opening it thought they were going to find hastily dressing people inside. "Um, Willow?" Buffy called, halting the door halfway open, and not coming inside. "Can I come in?"
Willow sat up, ignoring the smirk on Spike's lips. Lips that tasted really good. Lips that she wanted to taste again, and soon. "Sure. We're not naked anymore."
Spike burst out laughing as the door slammed all the way open. Buffy took two hasty steps inside before coming to a halt when she saw them on the bed together, fully clothed and looking un-rumpled. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, and sighed, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Funny."
"I thought so," Willow laughed, wincing at the pain in her face. Both her and Spike reach up to touch their faces. "Ow," she mumbled. "How many aspirin can you take before it becomes a problem?" she asked idly. Seeing Buffy still standing there, unmoving, looking everywhere but at the bed, she threw the covers off of herself, scooted to the end of the bed rather than climbing over Spike, and stood up, fully clothed in her favorite flannel pajamas.
"Where are you going?" Buffy asked sternly. "Bed rest for twenty four hours, remember? You promised."
Willow needed to get away from Spike, she was having a hard enough time thinking without him sitting there all sexy and tasty. Besides, it was obvious Buffy didn't feel comfortable with either of them when they were together. So, instead of talking there with him, or making him leave, she figured Buffy could accompany her to the bathroom while she took a bath.
"I need a bath, you want to talk. Two birds, one stone."
"Oh, hey," Spike said, jumping to his feet. "Can I join ya?" Both girls tossed Spike a withering glare and he shrugged, holding his hands up innocently. "What? You expected me not to ask? Please," he scoffed, shaking his head as he left the room.
Willow was busy gathering clean clothes when something occurred to her. She turned around with her hands on her hips, glaring at Buffy. "How come no one brought me a cinnamon roll?" This time there was a definite pout on her lips.
Spike took the stairs two at a time, announcing his presence to the people in the living room long before actually reaching it. Xander, sitting on the couch with a book on his lap, pointedly ignored him, while Giles simply glanced up and went back to his own book. Dawn, the only other occupant in the room, jumped up and followed him into the kitchen.
Truthfully he didn't mind so much that she followed him around, it felt rather good to be idolized. If he couldn't have her fear, he'd have to make do with her worship.
While going through the hated ritual of warming up a bag of blood for his dinner, he tossed her a curious look. "Something on your mind?"
"Sort of." Dropping into one of the wooden chairs circling the round table, she pointed to the microwave, which held his blood. "Why are you still eating that stuff when you can kill again?"
"You want me to go out and kill someone?" he asked in mock surprise, hiding his grin at the stricken look on the girl's face.
"I didn't mean--" she immediately started to protest.
"I know what you meant," he chuckled as the microwave beeped. Taking out his steaming cup of pig's blood, he joined her at the table, spinning his chair around and straddling it, comforting himself with the thought that as soon as both he and Willow were better, he'd be hunting humans again. Just as soon. Which meant he needed to get some more blood, as this was the last of it. "Willow's hurt," he explained, looking at her over the rim of the cup. "If I hunt-- with no killing," he stressed, when she immediately opened her mouth to say something, "then she'll get the pain from the implant. Don't wanna hurt her anymore than she already is," he admitted, calling himself all sorts of pansy.
She nodded, looking at him and then her hands. "You slept with her." There was no accusation in her voice, but it was there in the way her eyes wouldn't exactly meet his, and the way her thumb traced along the edge of the table. "I-- I thought you loved Buffy." And in her words.
Spike sighed, not wanting to get into a deep discussion about the intricacies of love with Buffy's sister. He kept silent, watching her steadily. Wrapping his cold hands around the mug, he let the warmth seep into his palms as steam curled lazily up from inside. He blew on it absently, wondering what Willow and Buffy were talking about. Him? Or more specifically, him and the bond, and possible ways to get out of it?
This merry band of Slayerettes didn't easily give up on things they thought needed changing. Even if the people involved didn't want things to return to normal. Or at least one person involved.
Hearing the water turn on upstairs, he glanced at the ceiling, forcing himself to keep his thoughts well away from a naked, wet Willow. A sigh escaped him at what he was reduced to. Something about Willow had gotten under his skin these past few days, and he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. That small kiss upstairs before Buffy interrupted them hadn't been leading anywhere important, not with both of them too sore to do anything, but it hadn't exactly satisfied him either. He'd still be up there using his mouth in ingenious ways if he had his druthers.
"It doesn't just go away," Dawn said, interrupting his thoughts.
If he hadn't known she was talking about loving Buffy, he'd think she had some eerie insights into his thoughts on Willow. But, no, she was still stuck on the love thing.
Now she was looking him in the eye. "At least, it doesn't just go away for humans. Maybe vampires are different," she mused spitefully. "Maybe they're--"
Spike turned narrowed eyes her way and leaned forward. "I like you, Dawn, but I'm only saying this once; stay out of it, it's none of your business." Seeing the flash of hurt on her face, and hating himself for even caring, he softened his tone, trying to explain himself. To a kid, he scoffed silently. "It's a little more complicated than that, all right? I never wanted to love Buffy. It's not hunky-dory fun when the person you care about detests you, so, don't blame me for trying to move on."
She nodded, somewhat mollified, but not willing to completely drop the subject. She was stubborn, just like Buffy. "So, Willow's just a distraction for you. A replacement." She sat forward, narrowing her eyes at him. Him, for Christ's sake. "Are you using her?"
"Dawn," Buffy said from the doorway, drawing their attention. "Go."
"Where?" the younger girl asked, turning her glare from him to Buffy. "You won't let me go to Janice's, and--"
Buffy rolled her eyes with a sigh. "When I actually am trying to get rid of you, that's when you don't realize it? Living room," she ordered. "Now."
"Hey!" Dawn jumped to her feet, glaring at Buffy from across the room. "I have just as much right to be here as you."
Buffy stalked closer, her arms crossed over her chest, annoyance written plainly across her face. "No, you don't, Dawn. You're not a part of the team, you're a relative of one of the members of the team."
Spike ignored the bickering girls, preferring to sit and sip at his blood rather than involve himself in another one of their arguments. In fact, as he downed the rest of his blood, he decided he'd just leave. The room, not the house. Couldn't leave the house until sunset, which couldn't come soon enough for him. He stood up as unobtrusively as he could, a little surprised when neither one noticed. Once out of the kitchen, he chose his recent favorite seat, the steps to the upstairs. A few minutes later, Dawn flounced past him, glaring and huffing at Buffy who stood in the doorway to the kitchen.
Giles, sighing heavily as he watched Dawn stomp up the steps, set his book down with a yawn. "Did Willow find anything on her laptop?" he asked. Whether the question was aimed at him or Buffy, Spike didn't know, but he answered anyway.
"She thinks it might be a spell for someone to distract us. Well, you all. Mentioned that candy thing too, but thought it may be aimed only at your little group this time."
"Sort of like the Litchock did with the bond," Buffy said thoughtfully. "Oh, hey. What if it's the Litchock doing it?" She pushed away from the doorjamb and sat on the couch, facing Giles. "But, if it is, what's with all the distraction tactics?"
Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "That would make sense, wouldn't it? If the Litchock wasn't dead."
"Wait. It's dead?" Buffy asked angrily. "Just... thought you'd throw that little detail in too when deciding what not to tell me?" She sat back with a huff. "I'm supposed to be the one in the know. Now I'm... know-less."
"Who says the one Willow and Spike found was the same one we fought? Or the only one in town?" Xander asked with a shrug. "Not all demons are loners, right? So, say there's a whole gang of them in town, trying to distract us for some reason."
"But why? What could they be after?" Buffy asked, looking to Giles. "Ideas?"
He shook his head with a sigh. "It could be anything. The one in the cemetery that night, it attacked you first?"
Spike stretched his left leg out, pulling a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fishing one out. He was almost out, he'd have to pick up some more. Blood and smokes. And if he had to put up with these guys any longer, he'd also be getting some alcohol. "It attacked me first," he muttered around the cigarette, searching his pockets for his Zippo. Where the hell was it? "I ran into these guys while chasing it," he explained, "but yeah, it attacked first."
"Attacked a vampire. Without provocation?" Giles pressed, grabbing a book from the table in front of him and flipping through it.
"Yeah, I just said that didn't I?" he snarled, still searching for his lighter, and coming up with nothing. Stomping up the stairs, he pushed open Willow's bedroom door to see if it was in there. Dawn was sitting on the chair by the desk, reading a book.
She looked up when he came in and started tossing the sheets and blankets to the floor. "What are you doing?"
"Lost my lighter," he said absently, lifting the pillows and tossing them to the floor.
"And it'd be in Willow's bed, why? You had it earlier-- ew! We were all downstairs, and you and Willow were in here having sex?" She twisted her face up in disgust, looking like she wanted to dart from the room.
"Hey, gutter brain," he said with a sigh, "neither one of us is in any shape to do anything. We were just talking." Opening the drawer in her nightstand on a hunch, he found what he was looking for. "How'd it get in there?" he asked, turning a suspicious look on Dawn.
"I don't know," she said with a shrug, going back to her book. "Ask Willow." When he left the room to do just that, she yelled, "I meant when she was done!"
He chuckled at the panic in her voice, and headed toward the bathroom. The door was locked, which didn't surprise him. Instead of breaking the lock and storming inside, he knocked lightly on the door.
"Who is it?" Willow called after a few seconds. She sounded half asleep.
"Me. Let me in." He waited patiently for her to climb out of the tub, probably pull on a robe, or wrap a towel around herself to cover up her nakedness. Her wet nakedness. Slick with water, skin dripping droplets of hot, soapy--
"Bloody hell," he groaned, shoving the thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Not when he couldn't do anything about them. And why the hell wasn't she opening the door already? "Willow. Open the door."
"Um, no. I'm taking a bath," she said slowly, as if he was five and she was explaining mommy's 'alone time' to him.
Instead of getting angry, he shifted from one foot to the other, crossing his arms over his chest. "All the more reason to let me in." Satisfaction shot through him when he heard her sharp intake of breath which was almost covered by the sound of her rapidly beating heart.
"Yeah," she scoffed to herself, obviously not thinking he could hear her, "if I let you in, there'd be less cleanliness and a whole lot more dirtiness."
Spike chuckled in amusement and reached out, snapping the flimsy lock on the door. There was a large splash as he went into the steam-filled room, and a gasp of surprise.
"Spike," she hissed, looking frantically around for something to cover herself with. "Get out of here. Buffy'll kill you, and I can't really blame her at the moment," she said pointedly, finally settling for grabbing the clear plastic shower curtain and holding it in front of herself. Her wide, panicked eyes only served to amuse him more.
She was acting like quite the modest virgin. Pointedly ignoring her demands to leave, and her embarrassment, he leaned back against the door, his eyes skimming along the little he could see of her. Her left leg, bent at the knee and crossed over her right one, a hand covering her breasts, which were currently underwater, and obscured by the plastic shower curtain.
"Modesty now?" he muttered, digging his lighter from his front jean pocket. Holding it up between two fingers, he tilted his head toward her. "Wanna tell me how this got into your nightstand?" He pushed away from the door, moving toward her, making sure she saw him rake his eyes over everything she thought she was hiding in there. "I told you I'm not quitting." Stopping at the edge of the tub, he knelt down, gripping the edge of the white porcelain, and leaning quite close to her. Her face--her mouth--was mere inches from his own. His eyes dropped to those tempting lips and he forgot what he wanted to say.
Her own eyes were on his mouth as she sat silently watching. Waiting? She opened her mouth, parting those lips he wanted so badly to taste, and drew in a shuddering breath. A drop of water slid down her shoulder from her dripping hair, which was slicked back, away from her face. The bruises covering the entire left side of her face were even more visible with no hair to obscure them. They were darkening, making her face appear shadowed with a rainbow of colors. Multi-colored, that's what she was.
She dragged in another breath, bringing attention to her chest, which, had he not already been fascinated by her bruised face and tempting lips, he might've already been observing.
"Spike..." she whispered, her eyes dark with want and need. "What--"
He shoved himself away from the tub, spinning around as he stood. "My lighter," he said, almost desperately, reminding himself as well as Willow of why he was there. "Don't take it again." Resisting the urge to turn back and look his fill, to grab her and yank her out of the tub and wrap his arms around her dripping body as he laid her on the tiled floor, he put one foot in front of the other until he reached the door. "I'm going to Willy's," he added, twisting the doorknob harder than necessary, and hurrying out into the hall. Once out there, he slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, taking a deep breath. His hand moved down to place his lighter back into his pocket, but ended up adjusting his tight pants instead. Staying where he was for a few minutes was probably a really good idea.
PART 9
The next afternoon, Willow was ensconced in her bed, with her laptop on her lap, and a snarl on her lips. "Stupid mouse." She shook it unnecessarily, knowing it wouldn't help in the slightest, but feeling better for having done so. She'd gotten lazy lately, used to using an external mouse with her laptop, since most of the time it was on a table, or another flat surface. The small pad on the keyboard wasn't as easy to use anymore, so she tended not to.
And, when one was bedridden-- strike that. When one was forcibly bedridden, using an external mouse could be difficult. And when one was not allowed to so much as cough without someone running in to see if she was okay... well, that got a little frustrating.
She shut the laptop down, yanked the mouse cord from the back, and slammed the top shut, setting both on top of her nightstand. "Stupid laptop." And really, did it stop there? No. "Stupid friends," she added, sitting back with what some might term a pout, but was definitely not a pout. It was more a frustrated pursing of the lips. Or a-- she sighed heavily. Now she was reduced to arguing with herself about her facial expressions.
Seeing someone walk by her open bedroom door, she called out to them. A little company right about now would be great. She sat straighter, propping another pillow behind her back. Actually, it would've been great at anytime over the past twelve hours.
Xander rushed back, stopping in the doorway. He pointed the way he'd been heading, shrugging apologetically. "I was just-- bathroom. Sorry."
Willow's head dropped back on her pillow with a groan.
"Bloody boring, these friends of yours are," Spike said from the doorway.
"Oh," she said happily. "Someone's actually talking to me." Patting the bed beside her, she scooted over with a grin. "Sit. Talk. Please." She'd happily admit she was begging for company if it got her some.
He stayed leaning against the doorjamb, with his arms and ankles crossed. "Why don't you just tell them to bugger off?"
Willow laughed, imagining lining all her friends up and telling them to bugger off. "Yeah, that'd make them leave faster," she scoffed. "Besides, they're only concerned about me. Can't really fault them for that."
"Yes I can," he griped, pushing away from the doorjamb. "Haven't had a minute to myself since they paraded over here. I'm half tempted to go back to my crypt, but I can't seem to make myself give up the soft bed." Stepping further into the room, he glanced about, like he'd never seen it before. Like he hadn't spent several nights in there, in the very bed she was sitting on. The soft bed. Her soft bed, with her in it.
Good thing she had all these really pretty bruises all over her face, otherwise she was sure he'd see the blush stealing across her cheeks. "Any luck?" she asked, placing the books piled beside her on the floor. At his raised eyebrow over his shoulder at her, she clarified, "Finding the cause of the hallucinations."
"Not yet." He lifted the blanket still covering her French doors just a bit. Sunlight flooded across her face, forcing her to squint through her good eye. He dropped the blanket back into place with a sigh. "Although for a minute there, we thought we'd found something. Turned out to be a false alarm since we're not being eaten from the inside out by--"
"Parasites. Yeah, I found that too." She leaned back, watching him pace around the room. "Have there been anymore instances?"
In the twelve hours since being driven home by an overprotective Giles, an overly bossy Buffy, and an overly confused Xander, she hadn't had much time to talk to Spike. Not that there was anything dire she needed to speak to him about, but still it was nice to have the chance to do so if she wanted to. As it was, she was lucky if she got to talk to anyone, let alone someone she wanted to.
Spike shrugged, sitting in her desk chair. "Nobody tells me anything, unless they think I did it."
Ignoring what was most likely a very fundamental truth, she said, "You know, I've been thinking." She glared at the doorway and the distant sounds of voices from downstairs. "I've had plenty of alone time to do just that. But, I was thinking--"
"Excuse me," Xander rudely interrupted from the doorway. "What are you doing in here, Spike?" He gave Willow a sideways look, full of disappointment. "Willow, he's--"
She sighed heavily, once again dropping her head back on her pillow. "A vampire. Evil. Going to kill us all one day. Using me to get to Buffy." She lifted her head, fixing Xander with narrowed eyes. "That about cover it all?"
"Well, yeah," Xander muttered, glaring at Spike when he started laughing. "Shut up."
"Good," Willow told him, then waved her hands at him imperiously. "Go away, we're talking."
Spike snickered a whole heck of a lot at Xander, not bothering to hide his amusement in the least.
"But, Will--" Xander began, frowning when she cut him off.
"Ah-ah! You've had plenty of chances to talk to me, but you were too busy. Now I'm talking to Spike, so go away." Once again, she fluttered her hands at him in a shooing motion, trying very hard not to laugh at Xander's apoplectic look.
He sighed, and slunk out of the room.
Willow laughed aloud at the dejected look on Xander's face. It'd been a while since she'd had anything to laugh about, and it felt good. But, poor Xander. She'd treated him horribly. The next time he came up, she'd apologize to him.
Spike tilted his head toward the door, then stood up and headed for it. Willow, afraid he was leaving, sat up, wincing a little at the pain in her head. "Don't--"
"Not going anywhere," he told her, shutting the door with a soft click before joining her on the bed. He hopped in beside her, stretched his legs out and leaned back. His hand rubbed the back of his head. "Still hurt?"
"Uh-huh. Not bad though, just a little achy. Yours?" It was weird how his aches and pains hadn't healed quickly with his vampire healing. She still hurt, and he still hurt because of her. But he hadn't complained yet. Not to her anyway.
He grabbed the bottle of aspirin off the table by her bed and a glass of water next to it. Popping open the bottle, he shook out a handful, handing three to her, and taking three himself. She dry swallowed them, but took the glass from him gratefully, handing it back after swallowing a healthy gulp or two of water. Setting the water glass and aspirin bottle back on the nightstand, he settled down more comfortably, sliding his arm around her. "Now what were you thinking about?" he inquired.
After a second or two of uncomfortable awkwardness, she relaxed into him, leaning against his chest a little. Her eyes closed of their own volition. He always made her feel so peaceful. Why was that? she wondered, snuggling just the slightest bit.
"Willow?" He shifted to look down at her, shaking her a bit. "What were you thinking about? Before the moron interrupted you?"
She considered slapping him lightly on the chest for calling Xander a moron, but couldn't find the energy to do it. "About the hallucinations." She forced her eyes open, knowing she'd be falling asleep soon if she didn't. "Um, they sort of strike me as more of a distraction than a danger." She sighed heavily, getting a large dose of Spike-scent. Why did he smell so good? He was dead, he should smell dead. Not like coffee and-- "Cinnamon?" she muttered, looking up at him.
"Cinnamon rolls," he confirmed, a small smile creeping up on one side. "Are you sniffing my clothes, love?"
His voice was normal, his eyes clear and bright, yet he made the words sound dirty. She made a face at him. "Can't help it, you reek of cinnamon, which is better than cigarettes. Anything is better than those things."
"Mm," he agreed absently. "Better get used to them. I'm not quitting anytime soon."
Of course he wouldn't. And she hadn't expected him to, still, she'd continue to badger him about it with the hope that he'd get sick of her complaining and drop the habit. "So, the hallucinations," she said, clearing her throat, "I'm thinking spell."
He stretched his neck from side to side until it cracked, then settled further against her. "A spell to what? Annoy people?"
"Maybe," she said, shrugging helplessly. "Or maybe to occupy us. So far it's only happened to me, you, that Jack guy, and Xander. As far as we know... that is all we know, right?" she asked, sitting up. Spike's arm dropped from her shoulders, leaving her in no way feeling bereft.
"That's all I know. I stopped listening after awhile because demon girl was getting on my nerves."
"She does have a tendency to annoy people," Willow agreed, softly rubbing her bruised cheek. The aspirin wasn't working yet, and her whole face was starting to throb. "But, it's not Xander's fault he saw Cordelia. Anya knew he loved her, hello, that's how we met her."
"I almost felt sorry for him," Spike chuckled. "Until I remembered it was funny." He tilted his head to the side, listening, then sat up.
"Someone coming?" she asked, settling back down on the pillows. Let them catch me laying in bed with Spike, she thought rebelliously, maybe they'll realize that, hey, it wasn't any of their business.
"Just the watcher, and he's too stodgy to bust in here and demand I leave." He laid back again, keeping his arms to himself this time.
She wanted him to hold her, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. To make love-- hold on there. No she didn't. She just wanted comfort from him. Pain had her in its grip and she wanted comfort. That's all.
She shook her head at herself. "Giles isn't 'just' anything," she told him. "He's like a father to me, and a mentor, and-- not the point I was trying to make about the spell." She switched back to the original topic, keeping one eye on the door, just in case Giles did decide to barge in. "Spells have been used before to occupy the adults in town, why not just us? The slayer and her friends?"
"Does this have something to do with candy bars?" he asked.
She looked up at him in surprise. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Rupert mentioned it earlier. Something about babies and a demon in the sewers." He laid back, yanking one of the pillows out from under his head and closed his eyes. "Didn't pay a whole lot of attention, heard it all before."
She rolled onto her right side, propping her head up with her hand. Her eyes, as they always seemed to do lately, fixed on Spike. He didn't look any different than he usually did, so why did she feel so differently about him? Was it all the bond's doing? Or had she always felt something for him? Thinking back, she couldn't ever remember a time when she'd felt anything but dislike for him. If she thought about him at all.
Fear was another thing she'd felt when thinking of Spike. Except that night in her dorm room, when he'd tried to cheer her up. She'd been feeling pretty darn low that night... okay, if she was honest with herself, she'd been feeling low since Oz left. That night had only been worse because she'd found Oz's things gone from his dorm room. Knowing he wouldn't be coming back to her, she'd taken it personally.
When Spike showed up and tried to bite her, then couldn't, she'd taken that personally as well. Not even a vampire wanted her. To kill, but still, she'd been convinced it was because she was un-biteable. Unattractive. Unwanted. Spike assured her otherwise, even remembered the sweater she was wearing the night he kidnaped her and Xander for the love spell. His words had taken the sting out of what she'd perceived as his rejection of her. She'd even calmed enough to return the favor, feeling a small sense of kinship, but as soon as she remembered who he was, she'd gone back to disliking him. The sympathy had reappeared the time he tried to dust himself in Xander's basement, but that was only pity. Then back to the disliking.
That was changing though, and the more time she spent with him, the more she grew to like him. Was that so horrible? She was bound to him, had to live near him for the rest of their lives, and according to the book, it would be a long life indeed. Humans bonded to vampires shared their somewhat immortality. She was going to live a very long time.
Maybe even centuries. Oh boy. That was a daunting thought. Outliving everyone she knew, everyone she loved. She was essentially a vampire without the bad parts. No blood drinking, no killing tendencies, and no aversions to sunlight, crosses, garlic or anything else vampires should avoid.
"I'm immortal," she whispered to herself, trying out the word for the first time.
She shivered lightly when Spike's eyes opened, focusing on her lips before moving up to her eyes. "Just now realizing that?" he asked softly. His eyes dropped to her lips again before sliding closed.
"Uh-huh," she mumbled distractedly, leaning down to press her lips against his before realizing what she was doing. Jerking back before she touched him, she was startled to feel his hand on the back of her head, halting her retreat. Her eyes shot back down to his, finding them still closed. With a light, gentle touch on her head, he forced her to do what she'd wanted to do in the first place. She reached up to touch his cheek before settling her lips softly against his.
It was a light kiss, pleasant and arousing. Unfortunately, her face hurt too much to go any further, and his stomach, still with a stake-sized hole in it, wouldn't allow for more entertaining pastimes. Still, the kissing was nice, and she'd continue to do that until she was forced to stop.
A knock sounded on the door, forcing her to halt way sooner than she wanted to. They sighed into each other's mouths, chuckling at the annoyance in both their voices. She pulled away, dropping to the pillow behind her.
"Come in," she called, hoping her face wasn't as flushed as it felt.
The door opened slowly, almost as if whoever was opening it thought they were going to find hastily dressing people inside. "Um, Willow?" Buffy called, halting the door halfway open, and not coming inside. "Can I come in?"
Willow sat up, ignoring the smirk on Spike's lips. Lips that tasted really good. Lips that she wanted to taste again, and soon. "Sure. We're not naked anymore."
Spike burst out laughing as the door slammed all the way open. Buffy took two hasty steps inside before coming to a halt when she saw them on the bed together, fully clothed and looking un-rumpled. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, and sighed, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Funny."
"I thought so," Willow laughed, wincing at the pain in her face. Both her and Spike reach up to touch their faces. "Ow," she mumbled. "How many aspirin can you take before it becomes a problem?" she asked idly. Seeing Buffy still standing there, unmoving, looking everywhere but at the bed, she threw the covers off of herself, scooted to the end of the bed rather than climbing over Spike, and stood up, fully clothed in her favorite flannel pajamas.
"Where are you going?" Buffy asked sternly. "Bed rest for twenty four hours, remember? You promised."
Willow needed to get away from Spike, she was having a hard enough time thinking without him sitting there all sexy and tasty. Besides, it was obvious Buffy didn't feel comfortable with either of them when they were together. So, instead of talking there with him, or making him leave, she figured Buffy could accompany her to the bathroom while she took a bath.
"I need a bath, you want to talk. Two birds, one stone."
"Oh, hey," Spike said, jumping to his feet. "Can I join ya?" Both girls tossed Spike a withering glare and he shrugged, holding his hands up innocently. "What? You expected me not to ask? Please," he scoffed, shaking his head as he left the room.
Willow was busy gathering clean clothes when something occurred to her. She turned around with her hands on her hips, glaring at Buffy. "How come no one brought me a cinnamon roll?" This time there was a definite pout on her lips.
Spike took the stairs two at a time, announcing his presence to the people in the living room long before actually reaching it. Xander, sitting on the couch with a book on his lap, pointedly ignored him, while Giles simply glanced up and went back to his own book. Dawn, the only other occupant in the room, jumped up and followed him into the kitchen.
Truthfully he didn't mind so much that she followed him around, it felt rather good to be idolized. If he couldn't have her fear, he'd have to make do with her worship.
While going through the hated ritual of warming up a bag of blood for his dinner, he tossed her a curious look. "Something on your mind?"
"Sort of." Dropping into one of the wooden chairs circling the round table, she pointed to the microwave, which held his blood. "Why are you still eating that stuff when you can kill again?"
"You want me to go out and kill someone?" he asked in mock surprise, hiding his grin at the stricken look on the girl's face.
"I didn't mean--" she immediately started to protest.
"I know what you meant," he chuckled as the microwave beeped. Taking out his steaming cup of pig's blood, he joined her at the table, spinning his chair around and straddling it, comforting himself with the thought that as soon as both he and Willow were better, he'd be hunting humans again. Just as soon. Which meant he needed to get some more blood, as this was the last of it. "Willow's hurt," he explained, looking at her over the rim of the cup. "If I hunt-- with no killing," he stressed, when she immediately opened her mouth to say something, "then she'll get the pain from the implant. Don't wanna hurt her anymore than she already is," he admitted, calling himself all sorts of pansy.
She nodded, looking at him and then her hands. "You slept with her." There was no accusation in her voice, but it was there in the way her eyes wouldn't exactly meet his, and the way her thumb traced along the edge of the table. "I-- I thought you loved Buffy." And in her words.
Spike sighed, not wanting to get into a deep discussion about the intricacies of love with Buffy's sister. He kept silent, watching her steadily. Wrapping his cold hands around the mug, he let the warmth seep into his palms as steam curled lazily up from inside. He blew on it absently, wondering what Willow and Buffy were talking about. Him? Or more specifically, him and the bond, and possible ways to get out of it?
This merry band of Slayerettes didn't easily give up on things they thought needed changing. Even if the people involved didn't want things to return to normal. Or at least one person involved.
Hearing the water turn on upstairs, he glanced at the ceiling, forcing himself to keep his thoughts well away from a naked, wet Willow. A sigh escaped him at what he was reduced to. Something about Willow had gotten under his skin these past few days, and he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. That small kiss upstairs before Buffy interrupted them hadn't been leading anywhere important, not with both of them too sore to do anything, but it hadn't exactly satisfied him either. He'd still be up there using his mouth in ingenious ways if he had his druthers.
"It doesn't just go away," Dawn said, interrupting his thoughts.
If he hadn't known she was talking about loving Buffy, he'd think she had some eerie insights into his thoughts on Willow. But, no, she was still stuck on the love thing.
Now she was looking him in the eye. "At least, it doesn't just go away for humans. Maybe vampires are different," she mused spitefully. "Maybe they're--"
Spike turned narrowed eyes her way and leaned forward. "I like you, Dawn, but I'm only saying this once; stay out of it, it's none of your business." Seeing the flash of hurt on her face, and hating himself for even caring, he softened his tone, trying to explain himself. To a kid, he scoffed silently. "It's a little more complicated than that, all right? I never wanted to love Buffy. It's not hunky-dory fun when the person you care about detests you, so, don't blame me for trying to move on."
She nodded, somewhat mollified, but not willing to completely drop the subject. She was stubborn, just like Buffy. "So, Willow's just a distraction for you. A replacement." She sat forward, narrowing her eyes at him. Him, for Christ's sake. "Are you using her?"
"Dawn," Buffy said from the doorway, drawing their attention. "Go."
"Where?" the younger girl asked, turning her glare from him to Buffy. "You won't let me go to Janice's, and--"
Buffy rolled her eyes with a sigh. "When I actually am trying to get rid of you, that's when you don't realize it? Living room," she ordered. "Now."
"Hey!" Dawn jumped to her feet, glaring at Buffy from across the room. "I have just as much right to be here as you."
Buffy stalked closer, her arms crossed over her chest, annoyance written plainly across her face. "No, you don't, Dawn. You're not a part of the team, you're a relative of one of the members of the team."
Spike ignored the bickering girls, preferring to sit and sip at his blood rather than involve himself in another one of their arguments. In fact, as he downed the rest of his blood, he decided he'd just leave. The room, not the house. Couldn't leave the house until sunset, which couldn't come soon enough for him. He stood up as unobtrusively as he could, a little surprised when neither one noticed. Once out of the kitchen, he chose his recent favorite seat, the steps to the upstairs. A few minutes later, Dawn flounced past him, glaring and huffing at Buffy who stood in the doorway to the kitchen.
Giles, sighing heavily as he watched Dawn stomp up the steps, set his book down with a yawn. "Did Willow find anything on her laptop?" he asked. Whether the question was aimed at him or Buffy, Spike didn't know, but he answered anyway.
"She thinks it might be a spell for someone to distract us. Well, you all. Mentioned that candy thing too, but thought it may be aimed only at your little group this time."
"Sort of like the Litchock did with the bond," Buffy said thoughtfully. "Oh, hey. What if it's the Litchock doing it?" She pushed away from the doorjamb and sat on the couch, facing Giles. "But, if it is, what's with all the distraction tactics?"
Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "That would make sense, wouldn't it? If the Litchock wasn't dead."
"Wait. It's dead?" Buffy asked angrily. "Just... thought you'd throw that little detail in too when deciding what not to tell me?" She sat back with a huff. "I'm supposed to be the one in the know. Now I'm... know-less."
"Who says the one Willow and Spike found was the same one we fought? Or the only one in town?" Xander asked with a shrug. "Not all demons are loners, right? So, say there's a whole gang of them in town, trying to distract us for some reason."
"But why? What could they be after?" Buffy asked, looking to Giles. "Ideas?"
He shook his head with a sigh. "It could be anything. The one in the cemetery that night, it attacked you first?"
Spike stretched his left leg out, pulling a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, fishing one out. He was almost out, he'd have to pick up some more. Blood and smokes. And if he had to put up with these guys any longer, he'd also be getting some alcohol. "It attacked me first," he muttered around the cigarette, searching his pockets for his Zippo. Where the hell was it? "I ran into these guys while chasing it," he explained, "but yeah, it attacked first."
"Attacked a vampire. Without provocation?" Giles pressed, grabbing a book from the table in front of him and flipping through it.
"Yeah, I just said that didn't I?" he snarled, still searching for his lighter, and coming up with nothing. Stomping up the stairs, he pushed open Willow's bedroom door to see if it was in there. Dawn was sitting on the chair by the desk, reading a book.
She looked up when he came in and started tossing the sheets and blankets to the floor. "What are you doing?"
"Lost my lighter," he said absently, lifting the pillows and tossing them to the floor.
"And it'd be in Willow's bed, why? You had it earlier-- ew! We were all downstairs, and you and Willow were in here having sex?" She twisted her face up in disgust, looking like she wanted to dart from the room.
"Hey, gutter brain," he said with a sigh, "neither one of us is in any shape to do anything. We were just talking." Opening the drawer in her nightstand on a hunch, he found what he was looking for. "How'd it get in there?" he asked, turning a suspicious look on Dawn.
"I don't know," she said with a shrug, going back to her book. "Ask Willow." When he left the room to do just that, she yelled, "I meant when she was done!"
He chuckled at the panic in her voice, and headed toward the bathroom. The door was locked, which didn't surprise him. Instead of breaking the lock and storming inside, he knocked lightly on the door.
"Who is it?" Willow called after a few seconds. She sounded half asleep.
"Me. Let me in." He waited patiently for her to climb out of the tub, probably pull on a robe, or wrap a towel around herself to cover up her nakedness. Her wet nakedness. Slick with water, skin dripping droplets of hot, soapy--
"Bloody hell," he groaned, shoving the thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Not when he couldn't do anything about them. And why the hell wasn't she opening the door already? "Willow. Open the door."
"Um, no. I'm taking a bath," she said slowly, as if he was five and she was explaining mommy's 'alone time' to him.
Instead of getting angry, he shifted from one foot to the other, crossing his arms over his chest. "All the more reason to let me in." Satisfaction shot through him when he heard her sharp intake of breath which was almost covered by the sound of her rapidly beating heart.
"Yeah," she scoffed to herself, obviously not thinking he could hear her, "if I let you in, there'd be less cleanliness and a whole lot more dirtiness."
Spike chuckled in amusement and reached out, snapping the flimsy lock on the door. There was a large splash as he went into the steam-filled room, and a gasp of surprise.
"Spike," she hissed, looking frantically around for something to cover herself with. "Get out of here. Buffy'll kill you, and I can't really blame her at the moment," she said pointedly, finally settling for grabbing the clear plastic shower curtain and holding it in front of herself. Her wide, panicked eyes only served to amuse him more.
She was acting like quite the modest virgin. Pointedly ignoring her demands to leave, and her embarrassment, he leaned back against the door, his eyes skimming along the little he could see of her. Her left leg, bent at the knee and crossed over her right one, a hand covering her breasts, which were currently underwater, and obscured by the plastic shower curtain.
"Modesty now?" he muttered, digging his lighter from his front jean pocket. Holding it up between two fingers, he tilted his head toward her. "Wanna tell me how this got into your nightstand?" He pushed away from the door, moving toward her, making sure she saw him rake his eyes over everything she thought she was hiding in there. "I told you I'm not quitting." Stopping at the edge of the tub, he knelt down, gripping the edge of the white porcelain, and leaning quite close to her. Her face--her mouth--was mere inches from his own. His eyes dropped to those tempting lips and he forgot what he wanted to say.
Her own eyes were on his mouth as she sat silently watching. Waiting? She opened her mouth, parting those lips he wanted so badly to taste, and drew in a shuddering breath. A drop of water slid down her shoulder from her dripping hair, which was slicked back, away from her face. The bruises covering the entire left side of her face were even more visible with no hair to obscure them. They were darkening, making her face appear shadowed with a rainbow of colors. Multi-colored, that's what she was.
She dragged in another breath, bringing attention to her chest, which, had he not already been fascinated by her bruised face and tempting lips, he might've already been observing.
"Spike..." she whispered, her eyes dark with want and need. "What--"
He shoved himself away from the tub, spinning around as he stood. "My lighter," he said, almost desperately, reminding himself as well as Willow of why he was there. "Don't take it again." Resisting the urge to turn back and look his fill, to grab her and yank her out of the tub and wrap his arms around her dripping body as he laid her on the tiled floor, he put one foot in front of the other until he reached the door. "I'm going to Willy's," he added, twisting the doorknob harder than necessary, and hurrying out into the hall. Once out there, he slammed the door shut and leaned back against it, taking a deep breath. His hand moved down to place his lighter back into his pocket, but ended up adjusting his tight pants instead. Staying where he was for a few minutes was probably a really good idea.