SUMMARY: Spike gets a new toy he wasn't expecting, and Willow finds out that life--and Gods--can sometimes throw humans for a loop.
TITLE: Order Now (8/?)
AUTHOR: sinecure
RATED: R
DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own BtVS, I don't, and the way these past seasons are going, I'm glad I don't.
DEDICATED: To Claudia, because, not only is she the best beta ever, but she's also quite the friend. She kicks ass on grammar--just call her the Hyphen Queen, I do--spelling, characterization, plot. She makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier... even when she's killing my poor little defenseless plot-babies. ;)
PART 8
Buffy sighed as she walked up the steps to her porch. It was a rare night when she wasn't covered in demon goo or vampire dust. She could actually count those times on one hand. Possibly even one finger. Usually that was a good thing, but tonight it meant bad news.
The Wickaninnish had killed another witch.
This made four in all. Two in one night. He was stepping up his power-crazed luncheons and witches were paying the price.
Her hand closed around the doorknob, and two things struck her at once. One, there was a vampire inside. Two, the door was locked.
She raised her fist to pound on the door and yell for Willow before remembering the key in her front jean pocket. Duh, handy little tool, that. Digging the ring of keys out of her tight pants pocket, she slipped it into the lock and quietly opened the door, pocketing the keys once more.
Nothing jumped out at her. No blood covered the floor, and she had hope that her senses were wrong, that she was reading something else as vampire. But as she rounded the corner into the front room and heard the TV playing low, she saw the vampire plain as day. Only it wasn't a currently dangerous one, just an annoying one.
She sighed and took off her jacket, tossing it over Spike's duster on the banister. "What are you doing here?" she asked him as the TV clicked off and he stood from the chair to face her.
Willow was fast asleep on the couch. Unaware that Spike was there? Her back actually looked a little less bruised and there was a really horrible smell coming from... somewhere. Smelled like a sewer. Must be Spike.
Spike barely glanced at her as he passed into the foyer. "Was it a witch?" He took his duster from the railing and swung it around behind him, sliding his arms into the heavy leather. "Was it the Wickaninnish?"
Ignoring the fact that Spike was ignoring her question, she nodded. "There were two witches tonight. I found a man on my way home... his eyes were--" she frowned, shaking herself from the memory of the man's blackened eye sockets, missing their key ingredient, which was of course, eyeballs, and the burned mark on his forehead. A dead giveaway that the Wickaninnish had struck. "Yeah, it was him. Or her." She stopped suddenly, remembering the fact that this was Spike, and evil. Not a friend. "Why are you here?" she asked again.
"Might wanna keep a better eye on your *witch* friend there," he said nastily, nodding toward Willow's sleeping body. "And how's about maybe, oh, I don't know, telling her there's a witch hunter out there?" He shrugged lightly, his chuckle dark. "But then again, telling a friend she's in danger might not be your thing... maybe I'm just quirky that way."
Buffy glared at him, her favorite expression when dealing with Spike. She couldn't help it, he just brought it out in her. "Not that it's any of your business, Spike, but we'll tell her when we need to. She's not in any condition to deal with this right now." She took in a deep, steadying breath, counting to two before breaking off the mental calm-down and snapping at him. "And, again, still none of your business, Tara did a protection spell on the house. Willow's safe here."
He chuckled again, though there was little amusement in the sound or in the look on his face. "That's great... for when she's not sitting out on the porch, alone, in the middle of the night." He yanked open the front door, starting out.
"The porch is part of the spell, she's safe." Buffy paused, tilting her head to the side as she studied Spike suspiciously. "Why are you suddenly caring so much about Willow?"
Spike paused with a sigh, turning back to face her slowly. "She's one of you lot, isn't she?"
Buffy nodded unnecessarily. "Well, duh, yeah. But, since when do you care about any of... us." As soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back. It was a stupid thing to say really, because now he was probably going launch into yet another declaration of love.
He looked at her pointedly. No sarcasm, no smart remarks, nothing but honesty.
She was the one to look away. It made her extremely uncomfortable knowing about Spike's feelings. She wished often that he'd kept them to himself.
She didn't apologize, as was her first instinct, just nodded. "If this is a way to... I don't know, get in my good graces, it's not gonna work. Just stay out of this. Okay?"
Spike laughed as if he'd known she was going to say something like that. He nodded, turning away before coming back and standing right in front of her, forcing her to retreat a step. "Brace yourself, Buffy, because I'm sure this is the only time you've ever heard this, but... this has nothing to do with you. It's not about you at all." He kept his eyes trained on her, until she grew uncomfortable, then spun around, and jumped down the porch steps.
His coat billowed out behind him before landing against the back of his legs, settling into a swaying motion as he walked across the grass and away from her house.
Buffy watched him walk away, closing her eyes for a brief second.
Truth be told, if Spike weren't an evil bloodsucking vampire, she might've considered him. But he was, and she didn't. It was as simple as that.
Closing the door softly, she turned the lock and sighed. Life--and she'd said this before--sucked.
_____________________________________________________
Spike waited until he heard the click of the lock turn before veering off to the left and heading into the backyard in search of his Willow-stuff. Skirting around the house, he listened for any sounds in the house heading toward the backyard, but all was silent.
Buffy's stunned face stayed in his mind though. He'd gotten one up on her. Finally. He was due a little upper hand.
The soft grass beneath his boots kept his footsteps silent as he rounded the corner, seeing his goodies just a few feet from the back porch.
A pair of silky red panties and a matching bra. Sexy. The blouse he'd pilfered, a black number with short sleeves and an even shorter midriff was something he'd never seen Willow wear. Too bad, 'cause she'd probably look damn sexy in it.
Face it, he told himself, you think she'd look sexy in anything. Or nothing. Definitely nothing.
Stuffing the clothes into his duster pocket with the books Willow had loaned him, he left the Summers' house and headed home. His Willow-bot was waiting for him and he had a burning... raging... need, to see her. Touching the real Willow had whetted his appetite. Tossed a bit of kindling on the heaping fire that was flaring up inside him for her.
What was that about? He loved Buffy. The Slayer. She was the one he loved and wanted and needed to be with. Buffy was the light in his darkness.
"Oh, bloody hell," he ground out. Next thing, he'd be spouting poetry, which was not needed here. Absolutely not needed.
Buffy, he thought to himself as he turned a corner, heading for the 24-hour supermarket. She was his life now. He didn't like her much, she was a bit self-involved, but he had fallen in love with her. So why was he all hot and bothered by Willow? The idea that it was a spell came to mind, of course, but he couldn't be sure. It felt natural.
Of course, so had getting engaged to Buffy last year.
So, what then? A spell to make him fall in love with Willow. To what end? To take his mind off of Buffy. That was the most logical reasoning he could come up with, but he doubted anyone in the Scoobie gang would agree to that. Especially Willow. And she seemed to feel something for him, so... maybe it was real.
Or something else was causing this.
He headed into the brightly-lit store, which had neon cardboard signs cut in weird shapes taped to the windows, proclaiming it had the lowest prices in Sunnydale. Due to it being the only big market in the city, that was pretty much a given. He headed straight for the shampoo aisle. The store was empty but for two cashiers talking to each other in checkout lane eight. They were giggling over a tabloid magazine, paying him no attention.
Absentmindedly, he made his way to the aisle where the toiletries were located. Striding down the end of the aisles, past the giggling cashiers, he rolled his eyes. What a silly waste of time. He should be out killing for money and smokes, not shopping for soap and shampoo, so his bot would smell like someone who wasn't even Buffy.
His boots echoed throughout the store, ringing loudly even above the music currently being piped through the speakers. Smells assaulted him, salty, sweet, peppery, sour. Fruity and tangy. It was all there, every scent known to man and then some. And every single one was wafting toward him, driving him mad.
Heading down aisle four, he stopped in front of the shampoo. The brand Willow used was on the end and the scent was there as well. But it wasn't her. The vanilla scent was something else entirely. But for now, this would help create the illusion that his robot was the real Willow. Grabbing a bottle each of shampoo and conditioner, he swung by the soap and grabbed that as well.
Taking his items up front, he passed by the sundries aisle, seeing candles lining one of the shelves. Maybe. Heading down the aisle, he picked up a red pillar candle, sniffing it. Cinnamon. Very close to the smell Willow had going the other night. A white one caught his eye and he picked it up as well, juggling the bottles of soap and shampoo to sniff the white candle. Vanilla.
Oh yeah, this was close. So very close. Anything to help.
He headed up to the checkout counter, in no mood to deal with the two giggly teenagers. As he neared, they both looked up, and stared at him, whispering quietly to each other.
Both were pretty and--he inhaled--smelled so good. The blood pumping through their veins was calling to him, inviting him to snack on them. Make a meal out of them. And he wanted to. More than anything he wanted to sink his teeth into their pretty little necks and gorge himself on their hot blood, but he couldn't. Not anymore.
Dropping his items to the counter with a little more force than was necessary, he sighed. "Carton of smokes too," he told the blond. "Marlboro."
The blond--her name tag labeled her as Candy--nudged the brunette. Lisa, the brunette, nudged Candy right back. Neither one took their eyes off of him as they nudged and pushed each other.
"Smokes," he repeated, louder, not in the mood for-- anything really. Except sex. Lots of sex and drinking blood. But the blood wasn't going to be happening. So sex it was. With Willow. The robot version of Willow.
Finally Candy sighed heavily and smiled coquettishly. "One moment, sir," she mumbled, stomping off to the locked case of cigarettes while Lisa scanned his items, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. A smile broadened her lips, meant to be seductive, but coming out as infantile.
She'd be the perfect meal. Dumb as a post, pretty as can be, and young to boot. Both of them would make a tasty little snack. His stomach rumbled with hunger, mocking him.
Candy returned with his cigarettes as Lisa was finishing the scanning. She tapped a few keys, giggling when she made a mistake. "Oops. Sorry, I double charged you for the... um," she held up the shampoo bottle, "shampoo. Oo, lilac," she muttered, her smile widening even more. "For your girlfriend, I hope."
Both Lisa and Candy burst out in giggles, and Spike had enough. He rounded the counter while they bagged his things, tossing the money on the counter as he passed it.
Standing at the end of the conveyor belt, by the girls, he vamped out and grinned at them. "Time for lunch," he laughed, watching as they screamed and backed up into the cigarette cases. The plastic casing rattled as they huddled against it, gasping and pleading for their pathetic little lives. He was having fun. He didn't want to leave, not yet. This was what he missed. The fear, the crying and pleading, the sobbing, the begging for mercy.
That, and the blood. He could practically taste it.
He stalked closer, grabbing Candy by her arms and hauling her up, not hurting her.
"Please..." she begged, her tearful face aimed at the floor, away from his vampiric one. "Please don't hurt me. I-- I didn't mean... don't kill me," she finally yelled, trying to worm her way out of his grasp.
"Kill you," he repeated, shaking her a bit. Seeing Lisa starting to crawl away, he turned Candy and himself around, snarling at Lisa. "Stay," he commanded, like he was talking to a nervous dog. "Atta girl." Pressing Candy back against the locked case, he leaned forward, sniffing her neck. "Vanilla," he muttered, "just like Willow." He pulled away, staring down into her face. "You smell like her, yet you hold no appeal for me. Why is that?" he asked.
"I-- I-- I don't know, sir," she sobbed, getting on his nerves. She cringed away from him when he brushed her long blond hair behind her back.
It was straight and beautiful, but she didn't draw him in. Why, damn it? Why was it only Willow? He slammed her back against the plastic, chuckling when she screamed, reaching her hands back as far as she could with his hold on her arms. "Well, Candy, how about a taste, huh?" He leaned forward, intending nothing more than a small bite to scare her, and then he'd take his groceries and go.
But when he bit her, there was no pain. No pain at all. He drew her closer, holding her body fully against his for better access and shoved her head to the side. His teeth sank deeper, fully into her neck, spilling the rich, hot blood that was keeping her alive. She screamed again, and he felt it against his chest, but his other senses were so full of her that he didn't notice Lisa getting to her feet and running away.
Candy whimpered a few times, her body jerking against his in a death dance as he drained every last drop from her, reveling in the feeling of being a predator once more. Her warm body against his... oh, it hadn't gotten him hard before, but, damn, if the blood hadn't done the job.
He dropped Candy to the tile floor, hardly registering the thump of her head hitting the counter as he threw his head back and laughed. God, he felt like an animal again!
Grinning evilly, he turned toward his other snack, only to find her gone. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, listening for her heartbeat. It was there, close by. The stupid chit hadn't made a run for it while she had the chance.
"Here, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa," he sing-songed, stalking toward the checkout counter he knew she was hiding behind. He could hear more than her heartbeat. Her whimpering was like music to his ears and his body hummed along. "Here, girl," he whispered, circling the counter.
She was huddled under the counter, sobbing and wet. Shaking like a leaf, poor thing. "Boo!" he yelled, laughing when she shrieked and tried unsuccessfully to melt into the floor.
"Please," she screamed, covering her head with her arms, cowering like the human she was. "Please don't hurt me!"
"But, I thought you *liked* me," he complained. "I heard your little whispered conversation with Candy over there." He reached across the counter and grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet. "You thought I was cute. Don't you still want me?" He dragged her with him to the where Candy's body was and spun her around. "You said you'd screw me right here, on this counter. Don't you still want to do that? Huh?"
She cringed and shook her head, not looking at him and his demonic face. "No-- no, sir. I-- I was just... I didn't-- we were kidding!" She swallowed a sob, sniffling a few times as she lifted her eyes to his face, her lips trembling. "I don't want to die."
"Nobody does really." He shrugged and drew her closer, spinning her around so her back was to him. Much easier to feed that way. "But we all do. Some sooner than others." He bit into her heated flesh, tearing through the skin like it was tissue paper and sucked out huge mouthfuls of blood, moaning at the flavor and the taste of such sweet, young blood.
"Hail Mary full of grace," she whispered, "the... the Lord is with thee..." her voice trailed off as she fainted.
Spike drank her dry and dropped her body on top of the counter. Wiping his hand across his mouth to remove any blood, he stared down at the mess he'd made.
The chip was gone. Malfunctioning or something. He was free. Grabbing his plastic sack of groceries, he headed home to his Willow-bot, feeling like a new vampire.
________________________________________________
"Honey," Spike called loudly, "I'm home!" Slamming the door shut with his foot, he stood amid his dusty crypt, taking stock of his shabby surroundings. Used TV, used chair, used mattress-- he didn't even have a proper bed, for God's sake... and felt the world rush back at him again.
He was free, yes, but what did that mean? Buffy would be after him. Willow wouldn't want to be near him, and the Scoobies, as much as he hated and despised... some of them, wouldn't want him walking around enjoying life anymore.
Dawn would be disappointed in him, that was a sure thing. She'd glare and cross her arms over her chest, just like big sis. But he didn't care. He was an animal again, not a lapdog of the Slayer's. He liked killing, and killing he would do.
Shoving his armchair from the trap door, he yanked it up and jumped down, rather than taking the ladder. Although, now that he was down there, he had to climb back up and close the door. But he in no way lost any points for evilness. He was evil.
Bad as they come.
And in the mood for a good shagging. He and Dru had had some awesome sex after a good killing. Except... tonight's killing, although fun in the way that he was able to actually do it... left a little something to be desired.
They had been weak, giggly girls. No challenge for the Big Bad.
He pushed that thought aside, searching the darkness for his girl. She was on the bed, in the same position as he'd left her, looking ripe for the plucking. Perfect for a seducing. Shagging after a good--decent--kill was unlike anything else in life. It couldn't be replaced by anything. There was no substitute for a good shagging after a kill.
He wanted to feel Willow's warmth beside him, around him, and below him.
Dropping the bag to the floor, he tossed his duster to the side and knelt down, crawling up the mattress toward her. "The Big Bad's home, baby." He chuckled, licking his lips as he smelled her and felt the warmth radiating from her. "Did you miss me?"
When she didn't move or reply, he glanced up at her face, frowning in frustration. She was recharging. Bloody hell. He had all this human blood pumping through his veins, so much richer than the pig's blood he'd been forced to subsist on, and he wanted a good shagging.
He kissed her lips lightly, hoping she'd wake up, but she didn't even stir. Hell.
Rolling to the side, he sat on the thin mattress, raising his legs to rest his arms on. Okay, no sex. Unless he wanted to go solo, which he didn't.
Heaving a huge sigh, he grabbed the bag from beside him and took out the candles. Red and white. Vanilla and cinnamon. What flavor did he want tonight? Vanilla. It reminded him of his most recent encounter with Willow. The touching and caressing, the kissing. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet and looked for a good place to set the candles.
There was the dirt floor, or the mattress. The altar was across the room, bare now but for the box of Willow-stuff, but it was too far away. He wanted to be able to actually smell them. There was a rock resting on its side a few feet away from the mattress, and it had a few broken off and worn places where the candles might fit. The rock it was.
He put the white one on the highest part of the rock, shoving the red one into a tight space by the end. Wax got shaved and broken off, sending up a hint of cinnamon, but he stuck to his plan of lighting the white one.
He crossed over to his duster and dug his lighter out of the pocket, lighting the vanilla candle. Black smoke wafted around in the air as the flame brightened and then lowered a few times, flickering back and forth. There had to be a breeze coming from somewhere. Inhaling the scent, he stared down at the girl lying in his bed.
The flame painted her in orange, shadowing parts and then revealing them. Her hair was spread out on the mattress, one lock tucked behind her ear by his own fingers. There was no expression on her face, she was just... there.
He stripped off his clothes, watching her for any signs of movement. His boots went first, then his jeans. As he unzipped them, and unbuckled the belt, he started to reconsider his decision not to go it solo. But he could wait. He was hard and energized from the blood rushing through him, but he was also a bit tired. Sated. Tossing his T-Shirt on the pile of clothes, he knelt at her feet and untied her shoes, throwing them aside.
He straddled her legs, touching only the outside of her thighs, and unzipped her jeans, sliding them off her hips and down her legs. The right foot got caught, and the jeans went flying when he yanked on them. They smacked against the far wall, dropping to the dirt floor with a plop.
Crawling higher, he slid his hands under the hem of her sweater and pushed it up, exposing her to his gaze.
"You're bloody beautiful, you know that, love?" He leaned down and pressed his lips lightly to her stomach, tasting the unique flavor of the robot. Now that he'd tasted the real thing, he could definitely tell the difference.
His hands slid around to her back and he sat her up, stripping the sweater from her body. She flopped forward against him, tickling his face with her hair, the cord coming from her stomach pushing into his side. He kept his arms around her, trying to unhook her bra.
"Stupid... little-- why do they make these things so small and-- hard to open!" He yanked hard, tearing the strap, but he finally got it loose. Slipping his fingers under the shoulder straps, he peeled it from her body and laid her back down. Her breasts bounced a few times, her hair falling over her face. Brushing the hair from her cheek, he scooted back down and stripped off her panties as well.
"Hello," he muttered, ignoring his straining erection. She was out, and he was not going to use her. He would in no way use the bot like that. It was bad enough he had to resort to having a robot... he wouldn't have sex with it while it was charging. Or touch it.
Lifting his hand from her thigh, he sat back on his heels and looked at her, shaking his head at himself. Ponce.
He stretched across Willow, reaching for his duster, and yanked it toward him, ignoring the reaction his body was having at the feel of her flesh against him. He could handle a little abstinence; he'd done it with Dru enough times. This was no different.
He dug into the pocket again, and freed the clothes he'd taken from Willow. Holding them in his hands, almost reverently, he lifted the red and black pieces of cloth to his face and sniffed them. They didn't carry Willow's scent, being freshly laundered, but they were better than the clothes the robot had been wearing all week.
Making quick work of it, he dropped the clothing beside her legs and picked up the panties. Sliding one foot through the leg hole, he picked up her other foot, still hoping for a little movement from her. She could wake up at anytime. He glanced at her face, disheartened when she didn't open her eyes and call his name in that unique way she had.
Sliding the panties up her legs, he put them on as best he could, but he knew from experience that a body could not be dressed by an outside person, something was always a little off. The bra could stay off for now. He tossed that by the mattress, catching a whiff of vanilla as it floated toward him. Tossing the shirt to the side as well, he left her as she was and blew out the candle.
If he kept on smelling that scent, he'd either force her to wake up, or be forced to take care of himself. He crawled across the bed, reaching out for the pillows and blanket he'd thrown down here the other day. He slipped one pillow under Willow's head and the other under his own and settled the blanket over both of them.
He rolled her over onto her right side and laid down behind her, sliding a hand around her stomach. His hand hit the cord attaching her to the wall, reminding him once again, as if he wasn't already aware of the fact, that this was not a real person. He repositioned his hand, cupping her breast instead, and shifted around a bit, trying to get comfortable.
The hard-on he was currently sporting didn't make that easy, but after a few minutes, he began to relax and fall into a deep sleep, fueled by vivid dreams of Willow.
TITLE: Order Now (8/?)
AUTHOR: sinecure
RATED: R
DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own BtVS, I don't, and the way these past seasons are going, I'm glad I don't.
DEDICATED: To Claudia, because, not only is she the best beta ever, but she's also quite the friend. She kicks ass on grammar--just call her the Hyphen Queen, I do--spelling, characterization, plot. She makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier... even when she's killing my poor little defenseless plot-babies. ;)
PART 8
Buffy sighed as she walked up the steps to her porch. It was a rare night when she wasn't covered in demon goo or vampire dust. She could actually count those times on one hand. Possibly even one finger. Usually that was a good thing, but tonight it meant bad news.
The Wickaninnish had killed another witch.
This made four in all. Two in one night. He was stepping up his power-crazed luncheons and witches were paying the price.
Her hand closed around the doorknob, and two things struck her at once. One, there was a vampire inside. Two, the door was locked.
She raised her fist to pound on the door and yell for Willow before remembering the key in her front jean pocket. Duh, handy little tool, that. Digging the ring of keys out of her tight pants pocket, she slipped it into the lock and quietly opened the door, pocketing the keys once more.
Nothing jumped out at her. No blood covered the floor, and she had hope that her senses were wrong, that she was reading something else as vampire. But as she rounded the corner into the front room and heard the TV playing low, she saw the vampire plain as day. Only it wasn't a currently dangerous one, just an annoying one.
She sighed and took off her jacket, tossing it over Spike's duster on the banister. "What are you doing here?" she asked him as the TV clicked off and he stood from the chair to face her.
Willow was fast asleep on the couch. Unaware that Spike was there? Her back actually looked a little less bruised and there was a really horrible smell coming from... somewhere. Smelled like a sewer. Must be Spike.
Spike barely glanced at her as he passed into the foyer. "Was it a witch?" He took his duster from the railing and swung it around behind him, sliding his arms into the heavy leather. "Was it the Wickaninnish?"
Ignoring the fact that Spike was ignoring her question, she nodded. "There were two witches tonight. I found a man on my way home... his eyes were--" she frowned, shaking herself from the memory of the man's blackened eye sockets, missing their key ingredient, which was of course, eyeballs, and the burned mark on his forehead. A dead giveaway that the Wickaninnish had struck. "Yeah, it was him. Or her." She stopped suddenly, remembering the fact that this was Spike, and evil. Not a friend. "Why are you here?" she asked again.
"Might wanna keep a better eye on your *witch* friend there," he said nastily, nodding toward Willow's sleeping body. "And how's about maybe, oh, I don't know, telling her there's a witch hunter out there?" He shrugged lightly, his chuckle dark. "But then again, telling a friend she's in danger might not be your thing... maybe I'm just quirky that way."
Buffy glared at him, her favorite expression when dealing with Spike. She couldn't help it, he just brought it out in her. "Not that it's any of your business, Spike, but we'll tell her when we need to. She's not in any condition to deal with this right now." She took in a deep, steadying breath, counting to two before breaking off the mental calm-down and snapping at him. "And, again, still none of your business, Tara did a protection spell on the house. Willow's safe here."
He chuckled again, though there was little amusement in the sound or in the look on his face. "That's great... for when she's not sitting out on the porch, alone, in the middle of the night." He yanked open the front door, starting out.
"The porch is part of the spell, she's safe." Buffy paused, tilting her head to the side as she studied Spike suspiciously. "Why are you suddenly caring so much about Willow?"
Spike paused with a sigh, turning back to face her slowly. "She's one of you lot, isn't she?"
Buffy nodded unnecessarily. "Well, duh, yeah. But, since when do you care about any of... us." As soon as she said the words, she wished she could take them back. It was a stupid thing to say really, because now he was probably going launch into yet another declaration of love.
He looked at her pointedly. No sarcasm, no smart remarks, nothing but honesty.
She was the one to look away. It made her extremely uncomfortable knowing about Spike's feelings. She wished often that he'd kept them to himself.
She didn't apologize, as was her first instinct, just nodded. "If this is a way to... I don't know, get in my good graces, it's not gonna work. Just stay out of this. Okay?"
Spike laughed as if he'd known she was going to say something like that. He nodded, turning away before coming back and standing right in front of her, forcing her to retreat a step. "Brace yourself, Buffy, because I'm sure this is the only time you've ever heard this, but... this has nothing to do with you. It's not about you at all." He kept his eyes trained on her, until she grew uncomfortable, then spun around, and jumped down the porch steps.
His coat billowed out behind him before landing against the back of his legs, settling into a swaying motion as he walked across the grass and away from her house.
Buffy watched him walk away, closing her eyes for a brief second.
Truth be told, if Spike weren't an evil bloodsucking vampire, she might've considered him. But he was, and she didn't. It was as simple as that.
Closing the door softly, she turned the lock and sighed. Life--and she'd said this before--sucked.
_____________________________________________________
Spike waited until he heard the click of the lock turn before veering off to the left and heading into the backyard in search of his Willow-stuff. Skirting around the house, he listened for any sounds in the house heading toward the backyard, but all was silent.
Buffy's stunned face stayed in his mind though. He'd gotten one up on her. Finally. He was due a little upper hand.
The soft grass beneath his boots kept his footsteps silent as he rounded the corner, seeing his goodies just a few feet from the back porch.
A pair of silky red panties and a matching bra. Sexy. The blouse he'd pilfered, a black number with short sleeves and an even shorter midriff was something he'd never seen Willow wear. Too bad, 'cause she'd probably look damn sexy in it.
Face it, he told himself, you think she'd look sexy in anything. Or nothing. Definitely nothing.
Stuffing the clothes into his duster pocket with the books Willow had loaned him, he left the Summers' house and headed home. His Willow-bot was waiting for him and he had a burning... raging... need, to see her. Touching the real Willow had whetted his appetite. Tossed a bit of kindling on the heaping fire that was flaring up inside him for her.
What was that about? He loved Buffy. The Slayer. She was the one he loved and wanted and needed to be with. Buffy was the light in his darkness.
"Oh, bloody hell," he ground out. Next thing, he'd be spouting poetry, which was not needed here. Absolutely not needed.
Buffy, he thought to himself as he turned a corner, heading for the 24-hour supermarket. She was his life now. He didn't like her much, she was a bit self-involved, but he had fallen in love with her. So why was he all hot and bothered by Willow? The idea that it was a spell came to mind, of course, but he couldn't be sure. It felt natural.
Of course, so had getting engaged to Buffy last year.
So, what then? A spell to make him fall in love with Willow. To what end? To take his mind off of Buffy. That was the most logical reasoning he could come up with, but he doubted anyone in the Scoobie gang would agree to that. Especially Willow. And she seemed to feel something for him, so... maybe it was real.
Or something else was causing this.
He headed into the brightly-lit store, which had neon cardboard signs cut in weird shapes taped to the windows, proclaiming it had the lowest prices in Sunnydale. Due to it being the only big market in the city, that was pretty much a given. He headed straight for the shampoo aisle. The store was empty but for two cashiers talking to each other in checkout lane eight. They were giggling over a tabloid magazine, paying him no attention.
Absentmindedly, he made his way to the aisle where the toiletries were located. Striding down the end of the aisles, past the giggling cashiers, he rolled his eyes. What a silly waste of time. He should be out killing for money and smokes, not shopping for soap and shampoo, so his bot would smell like someone who wasn't even Buffy.
His boots echoed throughout the store, ringing loudly even above the music currently being piped through the speakers. Smells assaulted him, salty, sweet, peppery, sour. Fruity and tangy. It was all there, every scent known to man and then some. And every single one was wafting toward him, driving him mad.
Heading down aisle four, he stopped in front of the shampoo. The brand Willow used was on the end and the scent was there as well. But it wasn't her. The vanilla scent was something else entirely. But for now, this would help create the illusion that his robot was the real Willow. Grabbing a bottle each of shampoo and conditioner, he swung by the soap and grabbed that as well.
Taking his items up front, he passed by the sundries aisle, seeing candles lining one of the shelves. Maybe. Heading down the aisle, he picked up a red pillar candle, sniffing it. Cinnamon. Very close to the smell Willow had going the other night. A white one caught his eye and he picked it up as well, juggling the bottles of soap and shampoo to sniff the white candle. Vanilla.
Oh yeah, this was close. So very close. Anything to help.
He headed up to the checkout counter, in no mood to deal with the two giggly teenagers. As he neared, they both looked up, and stared at him, whispering quietly to each other.
Both were pretty and--he inhaled--smelled so good. The blood pumping through their veins was calling to him, inviting him to snack on them. Make a meal out of them. And he wanted to. More than anything he wanted to sink his teeth into their pretty little necks and gorge himself on their hot blood, but he couldn't. Not anymore.
Dropping his items to the counter with a little more force than was necessary, he sighed. "Carton of smokes too," he told the blond. "Marlboro."
The blond--her name tag labeled her as Candy--nudged the brunette. Lisa, the brunette, nudged Candy right back. Neither one took their eyes off of him as they nudged and pushed each other.
"Smokes," he repeated, louder, not in the mood for-- anything really. Except sex. Lots of sex and drinking blood. But the blood wasn't going to be happening. So sex it was. With Willow. The robot version of Willow.
Finally Candy sighed heavily and smiled coquettishly. "One moment, sir," she mumbled, stomping off to the locked case of cigarettes while Lisa scanned his items, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. A smile broadened her lips, meant to be seductive, but coming out as infantile.
She'd be the perfect meal. Dumb as a post, pretty as can be, and young to boot. Both of them would make a tasty little snack. His stomach rumbled with hunger, mocking him.
Candy returned with his cigarettes as Lisa was finishing the scanning. She tapped a few keys, giggling when she made a mistake. "Oops. Sorry, I double charged you for the... um," she held up the shampoo bottle, "shampoo. Oo, lilac," she muttered, her smile widening even more. "For your girlfriend, I hope."
Both Lisa and Candy burst out in giggles, and Spike had enough. He rounded the counter while they bagged his things, tossing the money on the counter as he passed it.
Standing at the end of the conveyor belt, by the girls, he vamped out and grinned at them. "Time for lunch," he laughed, watching as they screamed and backed up into the cigarette cases. The plastic casing rattled as they huddled against it, gasping and pleading for their pathetic little lives. He was having fun. He didn't want to leave, not yet. This was what he missed. The fear, the crying and pleading, the sobbing, the begging for mercy.
That, and the blood. He could practically taste it.
He stalked closer, grabbing Candy by her arms and hauling her up, not hurting her.
"Please..." she begged, her tearful face aimed at the floor, away from his vampiric one. "Please don't hurt me. I-- I didn't mean... don't kill me," she finally yelled, trying to worm her way out of his grasp.
"Kill you," he repeated, shaking her a bit. Seeing Lisa starting to crawl away, he turned Candy and himself around, snarling at Lisa. "Stay," he commanded, like he was talking to a nervous dog. "Atta girl." Pressing Candy back against the locked case, he leaned forward, sniffing her neck. "Vanilla," he muttered, "just like Willow." He pulled away, staring down into her face. "You smell like her, yet you hold no appeal for me. Why is that?" he asked.
"I-- I-- I don't know, sir," she sobbed, getting on his nerves. She cringed away from him when he brushed her long blond hair behind her back.
It was straight and beautiful, but she didn't draw him in. Why, damn it? Why was it only Willow? He slammed her back against the plastic, chuckling when she screamed, reaching her hands back as far as she could with his hold on her arms. "Well, Candy, how about a taste, huh?" He leaned forward, intending nothing more than a small bite to scare her, and then he'd take his groceries and go.
But when he bit her, there was no pain. No pain at all. He drew her closer, holding her body fully against his for better access and shoved her head to the side. His teeth sank deeper, fully into her neck, spilling the rich, hot blood that was keeping her alive. She screamed again, and he felt it against his chest, but his other senses were so full of her that he didn't notice Lisa getting to her feet and running away.
Candy whimpered a few times, her body jerking against his in a death dance as he drained every last drop from her, reveling in the feeling of being a predator once more. Her warm body against his... oh, it hadn't gotten him hard before, but, damn, if the blood hadn't done the job.
He dropped Candy to the tile floor, hardly registering the thump of her head hitting the counter as he threw his head back and laughed. God, he felt like an animal again!
Grinning evilly, he turned toward his other snack, only to find her gone. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, listening for her heartbeat. It was there, close by. The stupid chit hadn't made a run for it while she had the chance.
"Here, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa," he sing-songed, stalking toward the checkout counter he knew she was hiding behind. He could hear more than her heartbeat. Her whimpering was like music to his ears and his body hummed along. "Here, girl," he whispered, circling the counter.
She was huddled under the counter, sobbing and wet. Shaking like a leaf, poor thing. "Boo!" he yelled, laughing when she shrieked and tried unsuccessfully to melt into the floor.
"Please," she screamed, covering her head with her arms, cowering like the human she was. "Please don't hurt me!"
"But, I thought you *liked* me," he complained. "I heard your little whispered conversation with Candy over there." He reached across the counter and grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet. "You thought I was cute. Don't you still want me?" He dragged her with him to the where Candy's body was and spun her around. "You said you'd screw me right here, on this counter. Don't you still want to do that? Huh?"
She cringed and shook her head, not looking at him and his demonic face. "No-- no, sir. I-- I was just... I didn't-- we were kidding!" She swallowed a sob, sniffling a few times as she lifted her eyes to his face, her lips trembling. "I don't want to die."
"Nobody does really." He shrugged and drew her closer, spinning her around so her back was to him. Much easier to feed that way. "But we all do. Some sooner than others." He bit into her heated flesh, tearing through the skin like it was tissue paper and sucked out huge mouthfuls of blood, moaning at the flavor and the taste of such sweet, young blood.
"Hail Mary full of grace," she whispered, "the... the Lord is with thee..." her voice trailed off as she fainted.
Spike drank her dry and dropped her body on top of the counter. Wiping his hand across his mouth to remove any blood, he stared down at the mess he'd made.
The chip was gone. Malfunctioning or something. He was free. Grabbing his plastic sack of groceries, he headed home to his Willow-bot, feeling like a new vampire.
________________________________________________
"Honey," Spike called loudly, "I'm home!" Slamming the door shut with his foot, he stood amid his dusty crypt, taking stock of his shabby surroundings. Used TV, used chair, used mattress-- he didn't even have a proper bed, for God's sake... and felt the world rush back at him again.
He was free, yes, but what did that mean? Buffy would be after him. Willow wouldn't want to be near him, and the Scoobies, as much as he hated and despised... some of them, wouldn't want him walking around enjoying life anymore.
Dawn would be disappointed in him, that was a sure thing. She'd glare and cross her arms over her chest, just like big sis. But he didn't care. He was an animal again, not a lapdog of the Slayer's. He liked killing, and killing he would do.
Shoving his armchair from the trap door, he yanked it up and jumped down, rather than taking the ladder. Although, now that he was down there, he had to climb back up and close the door. But he in no way lost any points for evilness. He was evil.
Bad as they come.
And in the mood for a good shagging. He and Dru had had some awesome sex after a good killing. Except... tonight's killing, although fun in the way that he was able to actually do it... left a little something to be desired.
They had been weak, giggly girls. No challenge for the Big Bad.
He pushed that thought aside, searching the darkness for his girl. She was on the bed, in the same position as he'd left her, looking ripe for the plucking. Perfect for a seducing. Shagging after a good--decent--kill was unlike anything else in life. It couldn't be replaced by anything. There was no substitute for a good shagging after a kill.
He wanted to feel Willow's warmth beside him, around him, and below him.
Dropping the bag to the floor, he tossed his duster to the side and knelt down, crawling up the mattress toward her. "The Big Bad's home, baby." He chuckled, licking his lips as he smelled her and felt the warmth radiating from her. "Did you miss me?"
When she didn't move or reply, he glanced up at her face, frowning in frustration. She was recharging. Bloody hell. He had all this human blood pumping through his veins, so much richer than the pig's blood he'd been forced to subsist on, and he wanted a good shagging.
He kissed her lips lightly, hoping she'd wake up, but she didn't even stir. Hell.
Rolling to the side, he sat on the thin mattress, raising his legs to rest his arms on. Okay, no sex. Unless he wanted to go solo, which he didn't.
Heaving a huge sigh, he grabbed the bag from beside him and took out the candles. Red and white. Vanilla and cinnamon. What flavor did he want tonight? Vanilla. It reminded him of his most recent encounter with Willow. The touching and caressing, the kissing. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet and looked for a good place to set the candles.
There was the dirt floor, or the mattress. The altar was across the room, bare now but for the box of Willow-stuff, but it was too far away. He wanted to be able to actually smell them. There was a rock resting on its side a few feet away from the mattress, and it had a few broken off and worn places where the candles might fit. The rock it was.
He put the white one on the highest part of the rock, shoving the red one into a tight space by the end. Wax got shaved and broken off, sending up a hint of cinnamon, but he stuck to his plan of lighting the white one.
He crossed over to his duster and dug his lighter out of the pocket, lighting the vanilla candle. Black smoke wafted around in the air as the flame brightened and then lowered a few times, flickering back and forth. There had to be a breeze coming from somewhere. Inhaling the scent, he stared down at the girl lying in his bed.
The flame painted her in orange, shadowing parts and then revealing them. Her hair was spread out on the mattress, one lock tucked behind her ear by his own fingers. There was no expression on her face, she was just... there.
He stripped off his clothes, watching her for any signs of movement. His boots went first, then his jeans. As he unzipped them, and unbuckled the belt, he started to reconsider his decision not to go it solo. But he could wait. He was hard and energized from the blood rushing through him, but he was also a bit tired. Sated. Tossing his T-Shirt on the pile of clothes, he knelt at her feet and untied her shoes, throwing them aside.
He straddled her legs, touching only the outside of her thighs, and unzipped her jeans, sliding them off her hips and down her legs. The right foot got caught, and the jeans went flying when he yanked on them. They smacked against the far wall, dropping to the dirt floor with a plop.
Crawling higher, he slid his hands under the hem of her sweater and pushed it up, exposing her to his gaze.
"You're bloody beautiful, you know that, love?" He leaned down and pressed his lips lightly to her stomach, tasting the unique flavor of the robot. Now that he'd tasted the real thing, he could definitely tell the difference.
His hands slid around to her back and he sat her up, stripping the sweater from her body. She flopped forward against him, tickling his face with her hair, the cord coming from her stomach pushing into his side. He kept his arms around her, trying to unhook her bra.
"Stupid... little-- why do they make these things so small and-- hard to open!" He yanked hard, tearing the strap, but he finally got it loose. Slipping his fingers under the shoulder straps, he peeled it from her body and laid her back down. Her breasts bounced a few times, her hair falling over her face. Brushing the hair from her cheek, he scooted back down and stripped off her panties as well.
"Hello," he muttered, ignoring his straining erection. She was out, and he was not going to use her. He would in no way use the bot like that. It was bad enough he had to resort to having a robot... he wouldn't have sex with it while it was charging. Or touch it.
Lifting his hand from her thigh, he sat back on his heels and looked at her, shaking his head at himself. Ponce.
He stretched across Willow, reaching for his duster, and yanked it toward him, ignoring the reaction his body was having at the feel of her flesh against him. He could handle a little abstinence; he'd done it with Dru enough times. This was no different.
He dug into the pocket again, and freed the clothes he'd taken from Willow. Holding them in his hands, almost reverently, he lifted the red and black pieces of cloth to his face and sniffed them. They didn't carry Willow's scent, being freshly laundered, but they were better than the clothes the robot had been wearing all week.
Making quick work of it, he dropped the clothing beside her legs and picked up the panties. Sliding one foot through the leg hole, he picked up her other foot, still hoping for a little movement from her. She could wake up at anytime. He glanced at her face, disheartened when she didn't open her eyes and call his name in that unique way she had.
Sliding the panties up her legs, he put them on as best he could, but he knew from experience that a body could not be dressed by an outside person, something was always a little off. The bra could stay off for now. He tossed that by the mattress, catching a whiff of vanilla as it floated toward him. Tossing the shirt to the side as well, he left her as she was and blew out the candle.
If he kept on smelling that scent, he'd either force her to wake up, or be forced to take care of himself. He crawled across the bed, reaching out for the pillows and blanket he'd thrown down here the other day. He slipped one pillow under Willow's head and the other under his own and settled the blanket over both of them.
He rolled her over onto her right side and laid down behind her, sliding a hand around her stomach. His hand hit the cord attaching her to the wall, reminding him once again, as if he wasn't already aware of the fact, that this was not a real person. He repositioned his hand, cupping her breast instead, and shifted around a bit, trying to get comfortable.
The hard-on he was currently sporting didn't make that easy, but after a few minutes, he began to relax and fall into a deep sleep, fueled by vivid dreams of Willow.