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 (9/?)
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 9
Spike swatted at something tickling his stomach, snarling at the light, feathery touch dancing across his skin. The tickling didn't stop, so he forced his eyes open, ready to kill whatever was interrupting his sleep.
He was tired, damn it.
The thing crawling across his stomach was a hand; a female hand. The fingers clenched and unclenched against him, just brushing his skin as they opened and closed. He threaded his fingers through Willow's and groaned, pulling her close against him as he tried to settle back into sleep.
She moaned a few times, moving restlessly against him, shifting this way and that, and he wondered if she was having a nightmare. His mind was sleep befuddled, forcing him back to reality when all he wanted to do was sleep some more.
"Go back to sleep, baby," he muttered against her forehead, placing a kiss on the smooth flesh there.
"Mm, Spike," she whispered, trailing her hand up his abdomen to his hip. She rested her hand against his waist and cuddled closer, pressing against some parts of him that were happy for the wake-up call. "I love you."
He opened his eyes, chuckling at the purely feminine sound that Willow made when she felt his erection hardening against her thigh. To hell with sleep, he could do that later.
Rolling her onto her back, he dropped kisses along her shoulder and neck, brushing her hair out of his way. She sighed and slid her hand around him, trying to press him closer to her, to get him to kiss her, but he stayed on his side, worshiping her slowly. Tasting every inch of her skin.
Her hands slid along his back and down again, slipping along the curve of his butt, squeezing the flesh. He took her hand and guided it to his erection, which was already straining for her touch. Her fingers wrapped around him, spreading out as she squeezed and caressed him.
"I like touching you," she told him, pushing him back and climbing on top of him. "You feel so good. Oo," she practically squealed, "you undressed me. You're naughty."
"Eh? Not yet, love, but give me a--" he opened his eyes, not wanting to, since he was enjoying just feeling, and looked up at her, seeing her breasts right there. Directly in front of him. Well, apparently he had. He looked down, seeing lacy red panties and remembered the night before. He was with the bot, not the real Willow.
Sigh.
He reached up to curl his fingers around her upper arms and pull her down. "I did. And I was all..." he drew in a breath, sliding a finger around one of her nipples, letting his eyes follow the movement, "hot and bothered by you." Glancing down, he was relieved to see no wires or cords springing from her stomach. Had she unplugged herself and wiped it from her memory like Warren said she would? "Care to make it up to me, love?"
She bit her lip, watching his hands cup her breasts. "Oh, yes."
He could feel the heat from her body seeping into his, warming him with every touch. She tightened her legs around his waist, and he felt wetness, smelled her arousal. How had Warren gotten that to work? he wondered absently, as he spanned her waist with his hands. She was small, but nowhere near as small as Buffy. Nor as thin as Dru. Not as busty as Harm. She was... all her own. She had her own curves and dips.
Her own taste and smell.
And he wanted it all. Sitting up, he lifted her from him. "Take 'em off."
She climbed to her feet and pushed the thin, lacy material down her hips, letting them slide down her legs to the floor. She stood in front of him, smiling as his eyes roamed over her.
He looked his fill, taking in her perfection as he rarely did anymore. Taut stomach, perky breasts, long, muscular legs, beautiful face. Curvy hips. Pale flesh. He wished she had freckles, or a mole, scars maybe, something, anything to break up the perfect expanse of her smooth, white flesh.
She trailed a hand down her hip, then slowly knelt on one leg, crawling across the mattress toward him, her smile firmly in place. When she neared him, she rested her hands on his stomach, and crawled on top of him, straddling his waist. "Mm," she sighed, "you're so cold... and I'm so..." she paused, looking at him from under her lashes, licking her lips, "hot."
He'd have to agree with her there. In more ways than one. The heat of her body was surrounding him. Her legs, where they were pressed against his sides, made him want to melt into her. And she was definitely hot in the looks department.
He chuckled, lifting her atop his erection. "Ready, baby?"
She nodded, her eyes shining with desire, her chest rising and falling as she helped him lift her. He hooked his hands under her and pressed his fingers into her flesh, drawing her down on him.
"Oh, Spike," she gasped, squeezing her muscles around him and holding herself still. "Your manhood is so hard and so big." She leaned forward, nipping at his lips with her teeth, smiling seductively. "Give it to me, Spike. Take me with all your virile strength. Use me for your own dastardly pleasures."
Spike snorted with laughter, pressing her against him and wrapping his arms around her back. "Up, Willow," he urged, arching his hips off of the mattress. She quickly obliged, raising herself onto her knees before lowering back down. "That's it, baby. Keep going like that." He leaned back against the wall, keeping his hands on her hips, helping to lift and lower her.
Her hands moved behind her, her fingers gripping his thighs, clawing at the flesh, bracing herself against him in order to keep the pace rhythmic. Her hair brushed his cheek, her tongue darting out to taste him. "Do I please you, Spike?" She smiled against his neck, her voice a purr.
She sounded more like the real Willow in that moment than she ever had before, and his body responded. His stomach tightened, his fingers clenching on her waist, gripping her even more tightly. "Oh, God, yes." He rested his head back, closing his eyes as she took over. He dropped his hands to the mattress, bracing himself to thrust inside her, bending his legs at the knee.
"Do you love me, Spike, my Blonde God?" She raised and lowered herself at a quicker pace, gasping with each stroke. Her fingers gripped him more tightly. "Do you..." she trailed off as he thrust even more deeply, then sagged against him with a few gasps, "oh, oh, do you love me?"
He opened his eyes, gazing into her face as she moved on him. He wasn't going to lie to her, so he kept silent, flinching at the disappointment in her eyes. She was only a robot, she didn't have feelings. She didn't know what real love and caring was. "Willow," he whispered, feeling guilty for hurting her. A blasted robot. "I care about you, baby." He brushed her hair over her shoulder, planting a small kiss against her shoulder. "Don't be sad."
"You love me," she insisted, clenching around him, tightening her muscles almost to the point of pain. "I know you do because you make such sweet, tender love to me. You need me like I need you." She smiled and ran her fingernails down his back. "We're a match made on a hellmouth."
"Yes, baby," he agreed, about ready to agree to anything at this point. She was driving him wild. He thrust inside of her with wild abandon, hardly in control of himself any longer. "God... faster, Willow."
She obliged, moving more quickly. Riding him like the animal he was. The wild beast. He vamped out, moving toward her neck before remembering he couldn't bite her. Motor oil issues. Bloody hell.
"Bite me," he told her, pushing her mouth down to his shoulder. "Hard, Willow." He needed the excruciating pleasure only pain could give him now. He wanted to be the one doling out the pain and the biting, but in lieu of that, she could bite him and give him almost as much pleasure.
She bit into his shoulder, lightly, not wanting to hurt him. Giving him a small love bite. It was nowhere near what he needed.
He pressed her closer, digging his fingernails into her flesh. "Harder. Please, Willow." He pulled back to look beseechingly into her eyes.
"What if I hurt you?" she asked with a worried frown, her mouth turning down in a pout when he laughed at her question. "You're making fun of me."
"No, I'm not-- you can't hurt me," he insisted. "I'm a vampire, remember? Superhuman strength and all that?" He nipped her lip, sucking it into his mouth for a second, biting it lightly. "It'll please me. You want to please me, don't you?" If all else fails, use manipulation.
"Of course, I do, Spike. I love you." She smiled a little nervously, dropping her eyes to his shoulder before leaning down to kiss it softly. A second later her teeth sank into his flesh, forcing a yell of pain from him, but God, it felt so good.
He gasped, panting against her hair as she bit into him harder. His body surged forward, forcing him deeper inside her and he came with a groan, jerking against her a few times. As he went still, he felt her body tighten around him.
Her mouth left him, her head going back with a gasp. "Oh, Spike," she whispered, "Oh, I love you so much." She collapsed against him, tucking her head against his uninjured shoulder.
He lifted her head up with a finger under her chin and kissed her thoroughly, licking the blood from her lips. "I never get tired of hearing that," he muttered.
She smiled and sat up on him, fully recovered already; the advantages of being robotic... a faster recovery time than even a vampire. "I never get tired of saying it," she said absently as she climbed off of him and stood there looking for her clothes. "Because, I do. Love you, I mean."
Spike stared at her, wondering if it was just his imagination that was making her sound so much like Willow. "Uh... what?" he finally asked, sitting forward.
She smiled in triumph when she spotted her panties on the floor by the mattress and stepped into them quickly. "What?" She looked over at him in confusion. "Where did you put my bra?" she mumbled, snatching up the red lace when she saw it by his duster. "Pretty."
"Why are you talking like that?" He stood up, grabbing his jeans from the floor.
"I always talk like that," she laughed, tossing him a puzzled smile. "Did you buy me new clothes? And..." she looked into the plastic grocery bag. "Soap. Do I smell?"
"No," he said dismissively, "I got them from a friend and, no, you don't stink. Anything but." He buttoned his pants and zipped them up, leaving the belt unbuckled. "Did you... or someone else, modify your programming?"
In the process of slipping the black blouse over her head, she turned to stare at him blankly for a moment before busting out laughing. "I'm not a robot, Spike." The way she held her head stiffly to the side said otherwise. "I'm made of... flesh and blood and... other things. You're acting weird."
He bent down, searching through his pockets for his pack of cigarettes and Zippo. "I'm not acting weird," he denied, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he tossed her a look. He stood back up again and lit the cigarette, snapping his lighter shut with an echoing click. "You're different." Sliding the Zippo into his front pocket, he squinted at her through the smoke drifting lazily up between them. "You don't talk like that. You talk like a bloody bodice ripper."
"I do not." She frowned at him as she pulled the hem of her blouse down, not happy when it settled just shy of her hips. "Why is this so small? Who'd you borrow it from, Minnie Mouse?" She stopped trying to yank it down and looked around. "No pants?"
He shrugged, picking up her old jeans and tossing them to her. "Sorry. I'll get some tonight." Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he watched her.
"Oo, can I come with? I haven't left the crypt in... a week." She frowned at him, sliding into the jeans. "Why can't I leave, Spike? I miss my friends. I miss the town." She pulled the jeans over her hips and fastened them, pleading with him with her eyes to let her go out.
He took the cigarette from his lips and sighed. He wanted to take her out. He didn't like keeping her cooped up here like a prisoner, but in this town, where everyone knew Willow... it just couldn't happen. "I got you something." He dug the books out of his duster pocket and handed them to her.
"Magick books!" She hugged them to her like they were precious diamonds and hopped up and down a few times before kissing his cheek. "Thank you so much."
This new version of the Willow-bot was baffling. Why was she suddenly talking like the human Willow? Why did she smile like her more, and act like her, move like her? Something weird was going on. As if getting the completely wrong robot in the first place wasn't weird. Something, or someone wanted him to want Willow. Question was: who was it?
Because, wow, did he want Willow. Like the dickens. Buffy was a pale shadow compared to his new obsession. Now that he had his bite back, maybe he'd go out searching for the reason behind his newfound desire for the witch. Maybe he'd kill a few people and just enjoy it.
Well, no, there was no fun in that. He needed a challenge. Killing two teenage girls that'd whispered and giggled over him didn't make him a fierce predator. It made him weak. He needed more.
"Willow," he said slowly. He looked up to find her flipping through the books excitedly. "What would you say if I told you the chip wasn't working anymore?"
Her head shot up, her wide eyes staring at him fearfully. She dropped the books and swallowed thickly, stepping back once. Just once, but he felt like she'd stepped out of his life. She wouldn't be okay with it. The real Willow wouldn't be okay with it.
"Are-- are you going to kill me?" she asked softly, biting her lips nervously. Her eyes darted toward the trap door, and he could've kicked himself for bringing it up.
He'd thought to use the bot as a sounding board, sort of see how the real Willow would feel about it. But apparently that was a bad idea, because now she was afraid of him. "No," he insisted, striding forward to take her in his arms and reassure her, but she frowned at him, halting his progress. "No, I'm not going to hurt you. At all. I don't want to kill you."
Her frown actually deepened, her eyes turning to his with accusation. "Why not?" She crossed her arms over her chest restlessly and dropped her eyes to the floor, where her foot was drawing patterns in the dirt. "You don't want me around forever?"
Spike's heart lightened at her whispered words. She was afraid he didn't want to turn her, not that he'd kill her. A grin split his face and he chuckled as he took those last two steps to slip his arms around her. "It's not that at all, Willow." He tipped her face up with his finger, kissing her softly. "I don't want you to change; I want you just the way you are. Except immortal."
She nodded, partially convinced he was telling the truth. "So, if we could find a spell to attach my soul permanently, you'd--"
"In a heartbeat, love." And he wasn't lying. He did like the idea of her being around for forever. Maybe even a little longer. She wouldn't leave him. At least, he didn't think she would. Admittedly her track record wasn't as spotless as he'd like, but it was loads better than Dru's. She was loyal, and committed. She loved fiercely and deeply. There was a strength to her that everyone who met her noticed right away.
He'd do well to have her near him for eternity. Well, the real her. The robot version? Eh, not so much. She was nice to have around, and he was rather fond of her, but she couldn't satisfy all his needs.
She kissed him suddenly, startling him, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand. Confessing and finding out how she felt about the chip. Right.
"Love?" He pulled away with regret, kissing her soundly a few more times before setting her away from him. "About the implant?"
Her grin faded completely. All happiness fled her face. "Did..." she swallowed, looking extremely reluctant to continue, "did you kill anyone?"
He nodded, his face blank. "I did."
"Oh." She sighed and moved away from him, picking up her shoes from the floor. She sat on the mattress and dusted off her feet before putting her shoes on. She tied the laces and raised her knees, resting her arms across the tops of them. Gazing across the few feet separating them, she set her chin on her arms. "Oh."
"But I didn't enjoy it," he hastily added, then amended that. "Well, I did, because... first time killing a human in over a year. So, of course I liked it. But I didn't--" he sighed, not sure how to explain it. This wasn't going well. He'd better do it better with the real Willow. "It's wasn't as fun as it used to be. Not as pleasurable."
Willow's eyes followed him as he paced in front of her, kicking up dust with each step. "Can you stop killing? Do you... do you have to do it? Can't you just... not?"
Spike tossed her an irritated glance. "Easier said than done, love. I'm not going to stop. I'm a vampire, it's what I do. It's how I live, how I survive." Stopping in front of her, he knelt down rubbing his thumb across her cheek softly. "I need it."
"But." She gazed at him, trying to understand what he was telling her, but not quite able to grasp the importance of it. "Could you, for now, just kill bad people? Like murderers and rapists and stuff?"
Spike slipped his hand around her neck, drawing her closer for a kiss. "I think I can do that. For now," he added, pressing his lips against hers, opening his mouth and kissing her deeply. Sliding his tongue into her mouth, he pushed away all thoughts of being caged just as much now as he had been when the chip was active. This was different.
And he did have to be careful. Buffy would kill him without a thought if she found out. Xander and Giles as well. Anya probably wouldn't give a damn, but Dawn would be regretful.
Willow would... ask him to stick to killing bad people?
____________________________________________________
Willow glanced at the door to the training room. Loud, arguing voices were coming from there, but she couldn't hear what was being said. All she knew was that Giles, Xander and Buffy were arguing about something. Anya looked toward the room in irritation as she closed the register drawer and handed her customer his change.
She smiled widely, in a fairly freaksome way and gave the man his bag of jellied bat eyes. "Have a nice day. Come back soon. Tell all your friends," she called to him, chasing the poor man from the store with her platitudes. Rolling her eyes, she tossed another annoyed look at the training room. "They're scaring my-- Giles' customers away."
Dawn, sitting at the table with her homework, shared a grin with Willow. "I'm sure they're very sorry."
"Hmph," Anya said absently, straightening items on the counter that were already perfectly positioned. "I doubt it."
Willow chuckled, curling up a little more comfortably on the big, oversized chair by the table. The voices--one of which was male and of the British variety--was raised even higher, drawing her attention. She'd been sitting here in this same spot almost all day. Buffy had talked her into going with her to the shop, and Giles had even come by to pick them up in his car.
She'd wanted to stay home, alone, thinking her Spike-thoughts, but Buffy had practically shoved her out the door with her. It'd do her some good to get some fresh air. And they'd be nearby in case she needed anything. It'd be fun.
Buffy had piled on the cheer, and goaded Willow into agreeing, but now she was regretting it. Her back was hurting again, she was due another application of the salve, and everyone was either fluttering around her with endless, 'how are you?' questions, or ignoring her completely. They hadn't even let her do research on the web for the new demon in town. Like her brains had been affected by the back injury. Please. She could click circles around any web user out there. Her searches were legendary. She was the queen of all that she surveyed. Or something.
Well, at least she hadn't had a nosebleed today. Just the headache that didn't seem to want to vacate the premises anytime soon.
"So," Dawn chirped, drawing her attention with a strained smile. "How are you at Latin?" She dropped her pencil to the table beside her open text book and sighed. "I have to do an essay."
Willow glanced at Dawn, but went right back to frowning at the training room door. "In Latin?" she asked skeptically. Buffy was getting really angry, her voice was lowering, becoming sharp. "They make you essay in Latin now?"
"Um, well, no," Dawn admitted with a shrug, laying her head on her arms. "I'm trying to get your rapt attention off the fight in the other room."
"What's going on?" she asked, slipping her feet to the floor. If Dawn knew what was going on, then it was something big. That they didn't want her to know? Or didn't want to worry her about? Either way, she was angry. Yeah, big-time mad. Friends didn't keep friends in the dark. They didn't keep huge secrets... unless it dealt with Spike and kissing. But that was on a whole other playing field of secret-keeping.
"Nothing." The reply was quick and immediate, and so much a lie. "Really," she insisted, nodding her assent. "It's just... you know, the normal. Big bad. Demons galore. Evil..." she glanced over her shoulder at the doorway, then back at Willow again, "things."
Anya skirted the counter and headed over to a customer browsing the book shelves. "Oh, even I don't believe that pathetic lie," she told Dawn. "Hi. Can I help you find something?" She stepped up the single stair and joined the woman in front of the books. "We have jellied bat eyes. They're on sale." She smiled widely, crossing her hands behind her back. "And bat wings are half off with a purchase of the jellied eyes."
The woman's smile faltered a little. "Um, I'm okay here. Just... looking for a book on spells. Uh, to protect witches." She glanced Willow and Dawn's way, obviously way out of her element here. "My-- my daughter is a witch, I mean, Wiccan, I guess is the correct term. And with all the deaths--"
"We have just what you're looking for over here," Anya said loudly, grabbing the woman's arm and hauling her a few feet away. "Yes, see. Right here," she proclaimed, staring pointedly over her shoulder at Dawn.
Willow's frown was considerable. Now she knew there was a conspiracy. What the heck was going on? "Dawn, what--"
Dawn laughed shrilly, startling Willow. "Oh! There was this joke... that I just remembered." She grinned wide, her eyes sparkling with a lack of amusement. "There was a guy, and he walked into a bar... but. Wait, no. Um, there were three guys, and they walked-- no, that's not right. Um, three guys walked into a bar, the fourth one ducked." She laughed some more, way more than the joke warranted.
When Willow only stared at her, she closed her mouth with a snap, erasing away the false cheer.
"It-- it probably wasn't funny. I ruined it. Or you had to be there." She nodded, falling silent.
"Okay," Willow said in puzzlement, pushing herself to her feet. "What's going on?"
Dawn jumped up, taking her arm and gently pushing her back into her chair. The cushion padded her back from any pain as she dropped into the seat, but she was still angry.
"Willow, you can't--" Dawn began, tossing a frantic look toward the door, and then, when that remained empty, she look for Anya. "Stay here. I'll be... right back."
"Not gonna happen," she mumbled, standing up again. As she headed toward the doorway of the training room, Buffy suddenly appeared in it, followed by Giles and Xander. A sheepish-looking Dawn trailed behind, tossing an apologetic look at Willow. Well, now that they were out here, she'd sit back down, but she also intended to demand answers.
Giles moved behind the counter, smiling at her a bit. Xander sat in the chair at the table directly in front of Willow while Dawn took her seat again. Willow's eyes were on Buffy though, since she was the decision maker for all things demon-y. Usually. Or, well, occasionally.
"Guys, what's going on? What's the big?" She sat back, shifting lightly against the huge pad behind her, stifling a sigh of relief. This was her favorite seat in the whole world.
Buffy stopped in front of Willow, kneeling there like she was about to say something to a five-year-old. A five-year-old who wasn't going to like what she had to say. "How's your back?" she asked instead of answering.
There was genuine concern there, and Willow was mentally aw-ing over it, but she also wanted answers. But she could play the innocuous game. "I'm going to steal this chair when I get better and hide it away in my room where Giles will never find it." She patted the cushion, rubbing her hand along it. "I'll tell him Chair Gnomes did it."
Buffy laughed lightly, pausing on a sigh. "Willow, those girls--and there was a man--are being killed by a Wickaninnish." She sat back on her heels, waiting for the news to sink in.
Willow nodded, at a loss as to why that was so important. "Oh."
Buffy nodded as if she completely understood Willow's feelings and lack of a response. "I know, and I didn't want to tell you. I fought against it, in fact, 'cause I didn't want you to worry, but I was outvoted."
Frowning, Willow looked from one concerned face to another. All except Anya. She was still with the lady looking for the spell book-- oh wait. Dead. Girls. Witches? "Buffy, what's a Wickaninnish?" she asked slowly, her suspicions showing quite clearly in her eyes and face.
"Oh, I thought you knew," Buffy answered, resting her hands on her thighs. "It's a witch hunter."
Willow's eyes widened and she tried to stand up, to get to a phone. "Tara. Is she all right? Is she--"
"Tara's fine," Buffy quickly assured her, holding her firmly in the seat with her slayer strength. "She's good. I talked to her earlier this afternoon."
She relaxed a bit, but not completely. There was a witch hunter out there and they hadn't bothered to tell her, to let her know? "Buffy, Xander..." she turned her angry gaze to her best friends, the hurt showing through, "why wasn't I in the loop?"
Xander sighed, looking defeated. "Sorry, Will," he said simply, shrugging his hands on the table before turning back around.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't even be telling you now," Buffy told her, her mouth in a tight line, her eyes solemn. "I wanted to take care of this without you ever knowing, or at least not knowing until after I killed the Wickaninnish, but someone else thought you needed to be told." She looked over her shoulder angrily, her eyes falling on the person standing in the doorway to the training room.
Willow's eyes followed Buffy's, already knowing what--who--she'd see. There was only one person left. Spike was leaning against the jamb, his arms and feet crossed. His eyes slid from her to Buffy, then back again as he pushed away from the wall with a shrug.
"Left to you all, she'd be six feet under before you told her anything." He strolled unhurriedly to the ladder and climbed up a ways before sitting down. His boots clunked loudly as he settled them in front of him, crossing his legs and leaning back to watch them all. "Forewarned is forearmed."
Xander snorted rudely, shaking his head at Spike. "Like you care. Why are we listening to him again?" he asked hotly.
Anya and the woman bustled into the sudden silence, heading for the cash register. The woman's arms were full of books and she looked quite overwhelmed. Anya skirted the counter and stepped behind the register, bumping Giles with her arm as she did so, the smile never leaving her face.
The woman smiled a little awkwardly and dumped the books on the counter with a sigh. "Um, are-- are you sure I'll need all of these?" she asked hesitantly.
"Of course," Anya answered, quickly ringing up the books so as not to lose the sale. "The more protection spells the better, I say. And you'll need ingredients," she said cheerfully, "you don't want your daughter to get hurt because you forgot to get fish tails and mushrooms, do you?"
"I-- I..." the woman looked like she wanted to refuse, but didn't want to look bad in front of everyone there. "My daughter has some things at home. She *is* a witch. And she does spells. So, maybe I don't need to buy all--"
"Nonsense," Anya disagreed, waving away the woman's protest as she bagged the books. She ducked behind the counter, coming back up with a jar in each hand, both filled with dried animal parts. "Your daughter could get hurt, you don't want--"
The woman's eyes widened and she looked a little green. "I think I'll wait and check to see what my daughter has before-- um, are those real eyes?"
Giles handed the woman her bag and took the jars from Anya, replacing them beneath the counter. "Have a nice day, ma'am, and don't worry about the other..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably as the woman handed him her credit card. "Oh, yes, I suppose paying would help." He cleared his throat again. The rest of the transaction was made in silence.
Anya glared at Giles a little, but refrained from sniping at him.
As the lady left, Giles kept his strained smile on. "Anya, what have I told you about badgering the customers?" he said tightly, sighing when the door closed behind the woman and the bell faded away.
"That's why you never make any money," Anya complained, resorting to straightening items on the counter again. "You don't know how to go for the hard sell, it's all about--"
"Anya, shut up," Xander said in frustration, startling everyone there, but added, "Uh, honey," ruining the effect.
Anya frowned his way, then harrumphed away.
Willow stared at Xander's back, keeping her eyes trained solely on him. If she didn't, they'd drift towards Spike and that was something she didn't need to be doing right now. She was angry, and insulted. And kind of touched that Spike had championed her. In a way. But still angry.
"Why was I not involved here, guys? Research girl, remember? I could've been helping all this time." She wanted to say more than that, but couldn't find the words to express herself at the moment. They were all watching her, stealing looks her way, staring at her. Well, no, that last one was only Spike. But it made her nervous.
"Will," Buffy said gently, like she was a kitten who'd clawed up the couch, "you were hurt. You could barely get out of bed."
"Granted," she agreed, nodding a bit crookedly, "but-- there's something out there hunting what I am. I think that's pretty important."
"It is." Giles rounded the counter, darting quickly out of Anya's way as she headed toward the counter with a dust rag and began swatting it at the jars and books. "Willow, you must understand that things have changed since..." he paused, his eyes softening slightly, "since you killed Glory. We couldn't be sure what might happen."
Anya, ever the truthful pragmatist, told it like it was. "They were afraid you'd go evil again and kill someone else."
"Anya!" Xander yelled, standing up angrily and walking over to her. He grabbed her arm and hauled her with him toward the training room. "Excuse us, gotta talk."
Willow sighed, knowing she should be wondering what was up with Xander, but they were worried enough and she had her own problems. Her friends thought she was going to kill again? Did they think Ben was innocent? That she'd killed him just for the heck of it? She'd been eliminating a threat from their lives, a huge threat. The biggest.
"I think I wanna go home," she said quietly, climbing to her feet a little too quickly. Pain tore through her back, but she ignored it. She didn't need their sympathy right now. They thought she was a murderer. "Dawnie, you wanna walk with me?"
Dawn closed her book with a snap, nodding. "Sure. But, shouldn't we have some muscle too?" She bit her lip, looking toward Buffy.
"No," Willow said stupidly. She was in no condition to protect herself, let alone Dawn as well. Of course they needed someone to go with them, but at the moment, she really didn't want to talk to Buffy. "We'll be fine."
"I'll drive you," Giles said quietly, grabbing his keys and starting around the counter. "Get your things, Dawn."
"No." Again, that was Willow turning down an escort.
"There's no room for discussion on this," Giles insisted. "I'm driving you. Come on." He walked past her to the front door, holding it open as he grabbed his jacket from the rack beside the door and waited for them.
Willow walked past him without acknowledging him in any way. She went straight to the red convertible and waited.
She was not evil. Why would they even think that? Didn't they know her well enough to know that she wouldn't just... kill willy-nilly? Apparently not.
Giles came out a minute later, followed hastily by Dawn carrying her books. Her papers were stuck inside her books, sticking out this way and that. She dropped her pencil and bent down to pick it up, giving Giles a nice, healthy glare as she did so.
"Couldn't wait an extra thirty seconds so I could put these in my backpack?" she muttered, striding past Giles to the back of the car.
"Take the front, Dawn," Willow told her, climbing slowly into the back seat. The front would entail conversation most likely, and she didn't want to have any at the moment. She wanted silence and time to think. Think, not about their subtle accusations of her being evil, or even about Spike, nope, she wanted to think about Tara.
Her first and immediate thought had been for Tara when she heard about the witch hunter, but it wasn't in the way one might expect a lover--or recently broken-up lover--to feel. She'd been worried and afraid for her, but not in the sweat-inducing, heart-pounding way she'd felt when she thought Tara was going to leave her to be with her family.
She'd been worried about her as a friend.
She hadn't spent one moment thinking she'd never hear Tara's voice whisper to her in the middle of the night, or feel her hands on her. She didn't worry that she'd never feel Tara's kiss again, or miss the sounds she made during sex. What she'd worried about was missing her as a whole.
Giles circled around the car, glancing at her briefly, but begging off saying anything. Dawn climbed in the front, dropping her things to the seat beside her with a sigh. He slid behind the wheel, started the car, and sat there for a minute, looking in the rearview mirror at her. But not leaving.
Just leave, she wanted to shout at him. Turning her face to the side, she glanced inside the shop, seeing Spike and Buffy arguing again.
He looked in her direction almost at the same time as she saw him, but his attention was right back on Buffy. Well, guess he wasn't over that little love-thing he had for her.
Jealousy now? she screamed at her mind. Of all the stupid times to be thinking about something as pathetic as that. Okay, not so pathetic, she knew. She cared about Spike. Obviously. Kissing a person tended to make her take notice of things like that.
Giles sighed at her lack of attention toward him and finally put the car into gear, pulling out into the street. Dawn asked Giles a question, which got them both talking quietly. Willow ignored their chatter throughout the drive, preferring to keep her own company for the time being.
She was free now, and Spike was someone she had a sudden interest in, but he wasn't free. And he loved Buffy. The question was, where had this sudden interest for him come from? She hadn't even known it was there before he kissed her. Well, maybe a little before that. When she caught him and his girlfriend in the middle of... stuff. There'd been a little uncomfortable wriggling in her mind that she later identified as jealousy.
Or envy. Maybe it was just that she envied him his happy sexual relationship. Hers had been going downhill for some weeks and then to hear Diana, a Goddess for heaven's sake, say that her happiness lay elsewhere... well, it was a little much to take in.
So, were her newfound feelings for Spike going to be a problem in her newfound life of less than supportive friendships to bask in?
No.
She'd simply forget about him, and move on with her life. Even if it was a life without supportive friends. Or a lover. Or... the self-confidence to use magick again. Ho hum.
She laid down on the back seat, keeping her back to the front of the car so it wouldn't rub, and closed her eyes, feeling the wind blow her hair around and slip under her clothes. The loose shirt she had on now was less revealing than last night's mistake, but it had big sleeves for the wind to slip through. She shivered in the cool night air, wanting nothing more than to lay down on her bed and go to sleep under the nice warm blankets, hugging Harvey, the stuffed penguin she'd gotten as a birthday present from Xander when they were eight.
Giles pulled up in front of Buffy's house and turned around to talk to her, resting his arm along the back of the seat. She pushed against the seat in a hint for Dawn to get out and waited, not looking at Giles. As soon as Dawn was out, she followed suit.
"Willow, we love you. We're only concerned that the magick is still with you." Giles' voice raised over the sound of his car door shutting, and she just knew he was heading up the sidewalk with them, intending to explain things.
To make her listen.
Placating him seemed like the best way to avoid a long drawn out conversation filled with accusations and betrayals, so she nodded and smiled. "I know, Giles. I understand, I do, but I--" oops, there wasn't supposed to be a but, there was supposed to be agreement and then a goodbye. "I'm hurt that you guys act like I killed him just for the fun of it."
"We think no such thing," Giles retorted angrily, drawing his brows together to glare at her. "Willow, have we ever given you reason to think we'd actually accuse you of... of killing someone for the simple pleasure of it?"
She dug her keys out of her pocket with a sigh, wishing he'd just go away. But that didn't seem likely. Sticking the key in the lock, she opened the door and motioned Dawn to precede her inside.
"Finish your homework," she told Dawn, reaching inside to turn on the porch light. As Dawn sighed and headed into the dining room to do her school work, Willow turned back to Giles. "You as much as said you did," she answered, just as angrily.
"No, what I said was that we were afraid of what might happen." He pulled his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a few seconds as he calmed himself down. "Look, the magick you were inside of was pure. It's different from the magick used during spells. Spell magick is... is earth-bound. It's governed by laws and rules. This stuff wasn't."
"I know that," she sighed, sitting on the brick pillar to face him. "I know. I mean, you guys don't seem to want to let me forget. I screwed up. Again. My fault. Again." She looked out across the yard, wondering if it had ever rained the night before. "I get it," she whispered.
Giles sighed, replacing his glasses as he sat on the opposite pillar. "No, I don't think you do. This is our worry. Our-- our concern for you. We don't want you getting hurt." He set his hands on his thighs and stared at her. "Have you considered the fact that the magick may still have a hold on you?"
Okay, startling. "No. I-- I mean, I'm fine. Feeling really non-evil and stuff. Nothing unusual has happened..." she trailed off, remembering Spike's hands on her, his lips settling softly, one last time, on the nape of her neck, the look in his eyes as he watched her. Perhaps she was being a bit hasty in her dismissal of the magick. It wasn't unbelievable that Spike could have an interest in her, but it was all rather sudden. Her own feelings had come about so quickly. What if she'd said or done something to make them attracted to each other?
Oh, God. What if it was another 'my will be done' spell? He'd kill her for sure this time. Good thing he had that chip hanging around in his brain.
Giles sat forward intently, waiting for her to continue. "What is it?"
"Oh," she said dismissively, waving her hand in front of her, "nothing. I was just trying to remember if anything weird had happened. But, there's nothing," she said cheerfully, standing up and heading toward the door.
She had to talk to Spike. But, how to get a hold of him? Call the shop, ask for him? Big no. She couldn't go to his crypt and wait for him... even if she could move around. Girlfriend issues.
Giles touched her arm, halting her speedy retreat. He hugged her quickly and awkwardly, smiling a little at her surprise. "Feel better. Another application of the salve should get rid of the ache and the muscle pulling." He chuckled as he headed toward the stairs. "I'm rather happy Spike isn't here tonight, but I suspect Dawn will do as well."
"Mm," she agreed, hurrying inside. She shut the door, leaning back against it with her butt. What to do, what to do? Nothing. That's what she'd do. Wait to see if it went away on its own, and, barring that, wait until the next time she saw Spike. There was no way to actively seek him out, so, waiting was the way to go this time.
Flipping off the porch light, she locked the door and glanced into the dining room. Dawn was at the head of the table, her books spread out in front of her, her lip between her teeth as she thought, then scribbled her answer on the wrinkled piece of paper in front of her.
"Need some help?" she asked. Homework was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but at least it would occupy her mind, leaving her unable to feel guilty and horrible for possibly putting a spell on Spike.
"Nope," Dawn answered, looking up briefly from her book with a smile. "I think I can handle the history homework on my own. It's the math I may be begging you to help me with later."
"Okay." She looked longingly up the stairs, wanting to climb up there and go to bed, but she didn't want to leave Dawn alone down here. She was old enough to watch out for herself... in a normal town maybe, but here? Nah. Instead of her bed, she headed into the front room and the company of the TV.
Without Spike this time. Dropping onto the couch, she sat back gingerly, turning on the set. After five minutes of surfing, she found a show on the discovery channel about vampires. She left it there, but soon changed when she found out the 'vampires' were actually humans with a taste for blood.
Music videos it was then. And a few aspirin.
The kitchen was dark when she went in there, but she left the light off as she grabbed a can of soda for her and another for Dawn. She popped the top, downing three aspirin with a gulp of the soda. Her back seemed determined to make itself as annoying as possible. It was starting to itch now as well, and some of the muscles were twitching.
"Here ya go." She set Dawn's soda on the table by her papers and headed back into the living room just in time to change the channel from one of the boy bands she hated. After another five minutes, she turned it off and went in search of her laptop.
Research gal to the rescue.
TITLE: Order Now (9/?)
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 9
Spike swatted at something tickling his stomach, snarling at the light, feathery touch dancing across his skin. The tickling didn't stop, so he forced his eyes open, ready to kill whatever was interrupting his sleep.
He was tired, damn it.
The thing crawling across his stomach was a hand; a female hand. The fingers clenched and unclenched against him, just brushing his skin as they opened and closed. He threaded his fingers through Willow's and groaned, pulling her close against him as he tried to settle back into sleep.
She moaned a few times, moving restlessly against him, shifting this way and that, and he wondered if she was having a nightmare. His mind was sleep befuddled, forcing him back to reality when all he wanted to do was sleep some more.
"Go back to sleep, baby," he muttered against her forehead, placing a kiss on the smooth flesh there.
"Mm, Spike," she whispered, trailing her hand up his abdomen to his hip. She rested her hand against his waist and cuddled closer, pressing against some parts of him that were happy for the wake-up call. "I love you."
He opened his eyes, chuckling at the purely feminine sound that Willow made when she felt his erection hardening against her thigh. To hell with sleep, he could do that later.
Rolling her onto her back, he dropped kisses along her shoulder and neck, brushing her hair out of his way. She sighed and slid her hand around him, trying to press him closer to her, to get him to kiss her, but he stayed on his side, worshiping her slowly. Tasting every inch of her skin.
Her hands slid along his back and down again, slipping along the curve of his butt, squeezing the flesh. He took her hand and guided it to his erection, which was already straining for her touch. Her fingers wrapped around him, spreading out as she squeezed and caressed him.
"I like touching you," she told him, pushing him back and climbing on top of him. "You feel so good. Oo," she practically squealed, "you undressed me. You're naughty."
"Eh? Not yet, love, but give me a--" he opened his eyes, not wanting to, since he was enjoying just feeling, and looked up at her, seeing her breasts right there. Directly in front of him. Well, apparently he had. He looked down, seeing lacy red panties and remembered the night before. He was with the bot, not the real Willow.
Sigh.
He reached up to curl his fingers around her upper arms and pull her down. "I did. And I was all..." he drew in a breath, sliding a finger around one of her nipples, letting his eyes follow the movement, "hot and bothered by you." Glancing down, he was relieved to see no wires or cords springing from her stomach. Had she unplugged herself and wiped it from her memory like Warren said she would? "Care to make it up to me, love?"
She bit her lip, watching his hands cup her breasts. "Oh, yes."
He could feel the heat from her body seeping into his, warming him with every touch. She tightened her legs around his waist, and he felt wetness, smelled her arousal. How had Warren gotten that to work? he wondered absently, as he spanned her waist with his hands. She was small, but nowhere near as small as Buffy. Nor as thin as Dru. Not as busty as Harm. She was... all her own. She had her own curves and dips.
Her own taste and smell.
And he wanted it all. Sitting up, he lifted her from him. "Take 'em off."
She climbed to her feet and pushed the thin, lacy material down her hips, letting them slide down her legs to the floor. She stood in front of him, smiling as his eyes roamed over her.
He looked his fill, taking in her perfection as he rarely did anymore. Taut stomach, perky breasts, long, muscular legs, beautiful face. Curvy hips. Pale flesh. He wished she had freckles, or a mole, scars maybe, something, anything to break up the perfect expanse of her smooth, white flesh.
She trailed a hand down her hip, then slowly knelt on one leg, crawling across the mattress toward him, her smile firmly in place. When she neared him, she rested her hands on his stomach, and crawled on top of him, straddling his waist. "Mm," she sighed, "you're so cold... and I'm so..." she paused, looking at him from under her lashes, licking her lips, "hot."
He'd have to agree with her there. In more ways than one. The heat of her body was surrounding him. Her legs, where they were pressed against his sides, made him want to melt into her. And she was definitely hot in the looks department.
He chuckled, lifting her atop his erection. "Ready, baby?"
She nodded, her eyes shining with desire, her chest rising and falling as she helped him lift her. He hooked his hands under her and pressed his fingers into her flesh, drawing her down on him.
"Oh, Spike," she gasped, squeezing her muscles around him and holding herself still. "Your manhood is so hard and so big." She leaned forward, nipping at his lips with her teeth, smiling seductively. "Give it to me, Spike. Take me with all your virile strength. Use me for your own dastardly pleasures."
Spike snorted with laughter, pressing her against him and wrapping his arms around her back. "Up, Willow," he urged, arching his hips off of the mattress. She quickly obliged, raising herself onto her knees before lowering back down. "That's it, baby. Keep going like that." He leaned back against the wall, keeping his hands on her hips, helping to lift and lower her.
Her hands moved behind her, her fingers gripping his thighs, clawing at the flesh, bracing herself against him in order to keep the pace rhythmic. Her hair brushed his cheek, her tongue darting out to taste him. "Do I please you, Spike?" She smiled against his neck, her voice a purr.
She sounded more like the real Willow in that moment than she ever had before, and his body responded. His stomach tightened, his fingers clenching on her waist, gripping her even more tightly. "Oh, God, yes." He rested his head back, closing his eyes as she took over. He dropped his hands to the mattress, bracing himself to thrust inside her, bending his legs at the knee.
"Do you love me, Spike, my Blonde God?" She raised and lowered herself at a quicker pace, gasping with each stroke. Her fingers gripped him more tightly. "Do you..." she trailed off as he thrust even more deeply, then sagged against him with a few gasps, "oh, oh, do you love me?"
He opened his eyes, gazing into her face as she moved on him. He wasn't going to lie to her, so he kept silent, flinching at the disappointment in her eyes. She was only a robot, she didn't have feelings. She didn't know what real love and caring was. "Willow," he whispered, feeling guilty for hurting her. A blasted robot. "I care about you, baby." He brushed her hair over her shoulder, planting a small kiss against her shoulder. "Don't be sad."
"You love me," she insisted, clenching around him, tightening her muscles almost to the point of pain. "I know you do because you make such sweet, tender love to me. You need me like I need you." She smiled and ran her fingernails down his back. "We're a match made on a hellmouth."
"Yes, baby," he agreed, about ready to agree to anything at this point. She was driving him wild. He thrust inside of her with wild abandon, hardly in control of himself any longer. "God... faster, Willow."
She obliged, moving more quickly. Riding him like the animal he was. The wild beast. He vamped out, moving toward her neck before remembering he couldn't bite her. Motor oil issues. Bloody hell.
"Bite me," he told her, pushing her mouth down to his shoulder. "Hard, Willow." He needed the excruciating pleasure only pain could give him now. He wanted to be the one doling out the pain and the biting, but in lieu of that, she could bite him and give him almost as much pleasure.
She bit into his shoulder, lightly, not wanting to hurt him. Giving him a small love bite. It was nowhere near what he needed.
He pressed her closer, digging his fingernails into her flesh. "Harder. Please, Willow." He pulled back to look beseechingly into her eyes.
"What if I hurt you?" she asked with a worried frown, her mouth turning down in a pout when he laughed at her question. "You're making fun of me."
"No, I'm not-- you can't hurt me," he insisted. "I'm a vampire, remember? Superhuman strength and all that?" He nipped her lip, sucking it into his mouth for a second, biting it lightly. "It'll please me. You want to please me, don't you?" If all else fails, use manipulation.
"Of course, I do, Spike. I love you." She smiled a little nervously, dropping her eyes to his shoulder before leaning down to kiss it softly. A second later her teeth sank into his flesh, forcing a yell of pain from him, but God, it felt so good.
He gasped, panting against her hair as she bit into him harder. His body surged forward, forcing him deeper inside her and he came with a groan, jerking against her a few times. As he went still, he felt her body tighten around him.
Her mouth left him, her head going back with a gasp. "Oh, Spike," she whispered, "Oh, I love you so much." She collapsed against him, tucking her head against his uninjured shoulder.
He lifted her head up with a finger under her chin and kissed her thoroughly, licking the blood from her lips. "I never get tired of hearing that," he muttered.
She smiled and sat up on him, fully recovered already; the advantages of being robotic... a faster recovery time than even a vampire. "I never get tired of saying it," she said absently as she climbed off of him and stood there looking for her clothes. "Because, I do. Love you, I mean."
Spike stared at her, wondering if it was just his imagination that was making her sound so much like Willow. "Uh... what?" he finally asked, sitting forward.
She smiled in triumph when she spotted her panties on the floor by the mattress and stepped into them quickly. "What?" She looked over at him in confusion. "Where did you put my bra?" she mumbled, snatching up the red lace when she saw it by his duster. "Pretty."
"Why are you talking like that?" He stood up, grabbing his jeans from the floor.
"I always talk like that," she laughed, tossing him a puzzled smile. "Did you buy me new clothes? And..." she looked into the plastic grocery bag. "Soap. Do I smell?"
"No," he said dismissively, "I got them from a friend and, no, you don't stink. Anything but." He buttoned his pants and zipped them up, leaving the belt unbuckled. "Did you... or someone else, modify your programming?"
In the process of slipping the black blouse over her head, she turned to stare at him blankly for a moment before busting out laughing. "I'm not a robot, Spike." The way she held her head stiffly to the side said otherwise. "I'm made of... flesh and blood and... other things. You're acting weird."
He bent down, searching through his pockets for his pack of cigarettes and Zippo. "I'm not acting weird," he denied, sliding a cigarette between his lips as he tossed her a look. He stood back up again and lit the cigarette, snapping his lighter shut with an echoing click. "You're different." Sliding the Zippo into his front pocket, he squinted at her through the smoke drifting lazily up between them. "You don't talk like that. You talk like a bloody bodice ripper."
"I do not." She frowned at him as she pulled the hem of her blouse down, not happy when it settled just shy of her hips. "Why is this so small? Who'd you borrow it from, Minnie Mouse?" She stopped trying to yank it down and looked around. "No pants?"
He shrugged, picking up her old jeans and tossing them to her. "Sorry. I'll get some tonight." Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he watched her.
"Oo, can I come with? I haven't left the crypt in... a week." She frowned at him, sliding into the jeans. "Why can't I leave, Spike? I miss my friends. I miss the town." She pulled the jeans over her hips and fastened them, pleading with him with her eyes to let her go out.
He took the cigarette from his lips and sighed. He wanted to take her out. He didn't like keeping her cooped up here like a prisoner, but in this town, where everyone knew Willow... it just couldn't happen. "I got you something." He dug the books out of his duster pocket and handed them to her.
"Magick books!" She hugged them to her like they were precious diamonds and hopped up and down a few times before kissing his cheek. "Thank you so much."
This new version of the Willow-bot was baffling. Why was she suddenly talking like the human Willow? Why did she smile like her more, and act like her, move like her? Something weird was going on. As if getting the completely wrong robot in the first place wasn't weird. Something, or someone wanted him to want Willow. Question was: who was it?
Because, wow, did he want Willow. Like the dickens. Buffy was a pale shadow compared to his new obsession. Now that he had his bite back, maybe he'd go out searching for the reason behind his newfound desire for the witch. Maybe he'd kill a few people and just enjoy it.
Well, no, there was no fun in that. He needed a challenge. Killing two teenage girls that'd whispered and giggled over him didn't make him a fierce predator. It made him weak. He needed more.
"Willow," he said slowly. He looked up to find her flipping through the books excitedly. "What would you say if I told you the chip wasn't working anymore?"
Her head shot up, her wide eyes staring at him fearfully. She dropped the books and swallowed thickly, stepping back once. Just once, but he felt like she'd stepped out of his life. She wouldn't be okay with it. The real Willow wouldn't be okay with it.
"Are-- are you going to kill me?" she asked softly, biting her lips nervously. Her eyes darted toward the trap door, and he could've kicked himself for bringing it up.
He'd thought to use the bot as a sounding board, sort of see how the real Willow would feel about it. But apparently that was a bad idea, because now she was afraid of him. "No," he insisted, striding forward to take her in his arms and reassure her, but she frowned at him, halting his progress. "No, I'm not going to hurt you. At all. I don't want to kill you."
Her frown actually deepened, her eyes turning to his with accusation. "Why not?" She crossed her arms over her chest restlessly and dropped her eyes to the floor, where her foot was drawing patterns in the dirt. "You don't want me around forever?"
Spike's heart lightened at her whispered words. She was afraid he didn't want to turn her, not that he'd kill her. A grin split his face and he chuckled as he took those last two steps to slip his arms around her. "It's not that at all, Willow." He tipped her face up with his finger, kissing her softly. "I don't want you to change; I want you just the way you are. Except immortal."
She nodded, partially convinced he was telling the truth. "So, if we could find a spell to attach my soul permanently, you'd--"
"In a heartbeat, love." And he wasn't lying. He did like the idea of her being around for forever. Maybe even a little longer. She wouldn't leave him. At least, he didn't think she would. Admittedly her track record wasn't as spotless as he'd like, but it was loads better than Dru's. She was loyal, and committed. She loved fiercely and deeply. There was a strength to her that everyone who met her noticed right away.
He'd do well to have her near him for eternity. Well, the real her. The robot version? Eh, not so much. She was nice to have around, and he was rather fond of her, but she couldn't satisfy all his needs.
She kissed him suddenly, startling him, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand. Confessing and finding out how she felt about the chip. Right.
"Love?" He pulled away with regret, kissing her soundly a few more times before setting her away from him. "About the implant?"
Her grin faded completely. All happiness fled her face. "Did..." she swallowed, looking extremely reluctant to continue, "did you kill anyone?"
He nodded, his face blank. "I did."
"Oh." She sighed and moved away from him, picking up her shoes from the floor. She sat on the mattress and dusted off her feet before putting her shoes on. She tied the laces and raised her knees, resting her arms across the tops of them. Gazing across the few feet separating them, she set her chin on her arms. "Oh."
"But I didn't enjoy it," he hastily added, then amended that. "Well, I did, because... first time killing a human in over a year. So, of course I liked it. But I didn't--" he sighed, not sure how to explain it. This wasn't going well. He'd better do it better with the real Willow. "It's wasn't as fun as it used to be. Not as pleasurable."
Willow's eyes followed him as he paced in front of her, kicking up dust with each step. "Can you stop killing? Do you... do you have to do it? Can't you just... not?"
Spike tossed her an irritated glance. "Easier said than done, love. I'm not going to stop. I'm a vampire, it's what I do. It's how I live, how I survive." Stopping in front of her, he knelt down rubbing his thumb across her cheek softly. "I need it."
"But." She gazed at him, trying to understand what he was telling her, but not quite able to grasp the importance of it. "Could you, for now, just kill bad people? Like murderers and rapists and stuff?"
Spike slipped his hand around her neck, drawing her closer for a kiss. "I think I can do that. For now," he added, pressing his lips against hers, opening his mouth and kissing her deeply. Sliding his tongue into her mouth, he pushed away all thoughts of being caged just as much now as he had been when the chip was active. This was different.
And he did have to be careful. Buffy would kill him without a thought if she found out. Xander and Giles as well. Anya probably wouldn't give a damn, but Dawn would be regretful.
Willow would... ask him to stick to killing bad people?
____________________________________________________
Willow glanced at the door to the training room. Loud, arguing voices were coming from there, but she couldn't hear what was being said. All she knew was that Giles, Xander and Buffy were arguing about something. Anya looked toward the room in irritation as she closed the register drawer and handed her customer his change.
She smiled widely, in a fairly freaksome way and gave the man his bag of jellied bat eyes. "Have a nice day. Come back soon. Tell all your friends," she called to him, chasing the poor man from the store with her platitudes. Rolling her eyes, she tossed another annoyed look at the training room. "They're scaring my-- Giles' customers away."
Dawn, sitting at the table with her homework, shared a grin with Willow. "I'm sure they're very sorry."
"Hmph," Anya said absently, straightening items on the counter that were already perfectly positioned. "I doubt it."
Willow chuckled, curling up a little more comfortably on the big, oversized chair by the table. The voices--one of which was male and of the British variety--was raised even higher, drawing her attention. She'd been sitting here in this same spot almost all day. Buffy had talked her into going with her to the shop, and Giles had even come by to pick them up in his car.
She'd wanted to stay home, alone, thinking her Spike-thoughts, but Buffy had practically shoved her out the door with her. It'd do her some good to get some fresh air. And they'd be nearby in case she needed anything. It'd be fun.
Buffy had piled on the cheer, and goaded Willow into agreeing, but now she was regretting it. Her back was hurting again, she was due another application of the salve, and everyone was either fluttering around her with endless, 'how are you?' questions, or ignoring her completely. They hadn't even let her do research on the web for the new demon in town. Like her brains had been affected by the back injury. Please. She could click circles around any web user out there. Her searches were legendary. She was the queen of all that she surveyed. Or something.
Well, at least she hadn't had a nosebleed today. Just the headache that didn't seem to want to vacate the premises anytime soon.
"So," Dawn chirped, drawing her attention with a strained smile. "How are you at Latin?" She dropped her pencil to the table beside her open text book and sighed. "I have to do an essay."
Willow glanced at Dawn, but went right back to frowning at the training room door. "In Latin?" she asked skeptically. Buffy was getting really angry, her voice was lowering, becoming sharp. "They make you essay in Latin now?"
"Um, well, no," Dawn admitted with a shrug, laying her head on her arms. "I'm trying to get your rapt attention off the fight in the other room."
"What's going on?" she asked, slipping her feet to the floor. If Dawn knew what was going on, then it was something big. That they didn't want her to know? Or didn't want to worry her about? Either way, she was angry. Yeah, big-time mad. Friends didn't keep friends in the dark. They didn't keep huge secrets... unless it dealt with Spike and kissing. But that was on a whole other playing field of secret-keeping.
"Nothing." The reply was quick and immediate, and so much a lie. "Really," she insisted, nodding her assent. "It's just... you know, the normal. Big bad. Demons galore. Evil..." she glanced over her shoulder at the doorway, then back at Willow again, "things."
Anya skirted the counter and headed over to a customer browsing the book shelves. "Oh, even I don't believe that pathetic lie," she told Dawn. "Hi. Can I help you find something?" She stepped up the single stair and joined the woman in front of the books. "We have jellied bat eyes. They're on sale." She smiled widely, crossing her hands behind her back. "And bat wings are half off with a purchase of the jellied eyes."
The woman's smile faltered a little. "Um, I'm okay here. Just... looking for a book on spells. Uh, to protect witches." She glanced Willow and Dawn's way, obviously way out of her element here. "My-- my daughter is a witch, I mean, Wiccan, I guess is the correct term. And with all the deaths--"
"We have just what you're looking for over here," Anya said loudly, grabbing the woman's arm and hauling her a few feet away. "Yes, see. Right here," she proclaimed, staring pointedly over her shoulder at Dawn.
Willow's frown was considerable. Now she knew there was a conspiracy. What the heck was going on? "Dawn, what--"
Dawn laughed shrilly, startling Willow. "Oh! There was this joke... that I just remembered." She grinned wide, her eyes sparkling with a lack of amusement. "There was a guy, and he walked into a bar... but. Wait, no. Um, there were three guys, and they walked-- no, that's not right. Um, three guys walked into a bar, the fourth one ducked." She laughed some more, way more than the joke warranted.
When Willow only stared at her, she closed her mouth with a snap, erasing away the false cheer.
"It-- it probably wasn't funny. I ruined it. Or you had to be there." She nodded, falling silent.
"Okay," Willow said in puzzlement, pushing herself to her feet. "What's going on?"
Dawn jumped up, taking her arm and gently pushing her back into her chair. The cushion padded her back from any pain as she dropped into the seat, but she was still angry.
"Willow, you can't--" Dawn began, tossing a frantic look toward the door, and then, when that remained empty, she look for Anya. "Stay here. I'll be... right back."
"Not gonna happen," she mumbled, standing up again. As she headed toward the doorway of the training room, Buffy suddenly appeared in it, followed by Giles and Xander. A sheepish-looking Dawn trailed behind, tossing an apologetic look at Willow. Well, now that they were out here, she'd sit back down, but she also intended to demand answers.
Giles moved behind the counter, smiling at her a bit. Xander sat in the chair at the table directly in front of Willow while Dawn took her seat again. Willow's eyes were on Buffy though, since she was the decision maker for all things demon-y. Usually. Or, well, occasionally.
"Guys, what's going on? What's the big?" She sat back, shifting lightly against the huge pad behind her, stifling a sigh of relief. This was her favorite seat in the whole world.
Buffy stopped in front of Willow, kneeling there like she was about to say something to a five-year-old. A five-year-old who wasn't going to like what she had to say. "How's your back?" she asked instead of answering.
There was genuine concern there, and Willow was mentally aw-ing over it, but she also wanted answers. But she could play the innocuous game. "I'm going to steal this chair when I get better and hide it away in my room where Giles will never find it." She patted the cushion, rubbing her hand along it. "I'll tell him Chair Gnomes did it."
Buffy laughed lightly, pausing on a sigh. "Willow, those girls--and there was a man--are being killed by a Wickaninnish." She sat back on her heels, waiting for the news to sink in.
Willow nodded, at a loss as to why that was so important. "Oh."
Buffy nodded as if she completely understood Willow's feelings and lack of a response. "I know, and I didn't want to tell you. I fought against it, in fact, 'cause I didn't want you to worry, but I was outvoted."
Frowning, Willow looked from one concerned face to another. All except Anya. She was still with the lady looking for the spell book-- oh wait. Dead. Girls. Witches? "Buffy, what's a Wickaninnish?" she asked slowly, her suspicions showing quite clearly in her eyes and face.
"Oh, I thought you knew," Buffy answered, resting her hands on her thighs. "It's a witch hunter."
Willow's eyes widened and she tried to stand up, to get to a phone. "Tara. Is she all right? Is she--"
"Tara's fine," Buffy quickly assured her, holding her firmly in the seat with her slayer strength. "She's good. I talked to her earlier this afternoon."
She relaxed a bit, but not completely. There was a witch hunter out there and they hadn't bothered to tell her, to let her know? "Buffy, Xander..." she turned her angry gaze to her best friends, the hurt showing through, "why wasn't I in the loop?"
Xander sighed, looking defeated. "Sorry, Will," he said simply, shrugging his hands on the table before turning back around.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't even be telling you now," Buffy told her, her mouth in a tight line, her eyes solemn. "I wanted to take care of this without you ever knowing, or at least not knowing until after I killed the Wickaninnish, but someone else thought you needed to be told." She looked over her shoulder angrily, her eyes falling on the person standing in the doorway to the training room.
Willow's eyes followed Buffy's, already knowing what--who--she'd see. There was only one person left. Spike was leaning against the jamb, his arms and feet crossed. His eyes slid from her to Buffy, then back again as he pushed away from the wall with a shrug.
"Left to you all, she'd be six feet under before you told her anything." He strolled unhurriedly to the ladder and climbed up a ways before sitting down. His boots clunked loudly as he settled them in front of him, crossing his legs and leaning back to watch them all. "Forewarned is forearmed."
Xander snorted rudely, shaking his head at Spike. "Like you care. Why are we listening to him again?" he asked hotly.
Anya and the woman bustled into the sudden silence, heading for the cash register. The woman's arms were full of books and she looked quite overwhelmed. Anya skirted the counter and stepped behind the register, bumping Giles with her arm as she did so, the smile never leaving her face.
The woman smiled a little awkwardly and dumped the books on the counter with a sigh. "Um, are-- are you sure I'll need all of these?" she asked hesitantly.
"Of course," Anya answered, quickly ringing up the books so as not to lose the sale. "The more protection spells the better, I say. And you'll need ingredients," she said cheerfully, "you don't want your daughter to get hurt because you forgot to get fish tails and mushrooms, do you?"
"I-- I..." the woman looked like she wanted to refuse, but didn't want to look bad in front of everyone there. "My daughter has some things at home. She *is* a witch. And she does spells. So, maybe I don't need to buy all--"
"Nonsense," Anya disagreed, waving away the woman's protest as she bagged the books. She ducked behind the counter, coming back up with a jar in each hand, both filled with dried animal parts. "Your daughter could get hurt, you don't want--"
The woman's eyes widened and she looked a little green. "I think I'll wait and check to see what my daughter has before-- um, are those real eyes?"
Giles handed the woman her bag and took the jars from Anya, replacing them beneath the counter. "Have a nice day, ma'am, and don't worry about the other..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably as the woman handed him her credit card. "Oh, yes, I suppose paying would help." He cleared his throat again. The rest of the transaction was made in silence.
Anya glared at Giles a little, but refrained from sniping at him.
As the lady left, Giles kept his strained smile on. "Anya, what have I told you about badgering the customers?" he said tightly, sighing when the door closed behind the woman and the bell faded away.
"That's why you never make any money," Anya complained, resorting to straightening items on the counter again. "You don't know how to go for the hard sell, it's all about--"
"Anya, shut up," Xander said in frustration, startling everyone there, but added, "Uh, honey," ruining the effect.
Anya frowned his way, then harrumphed away.
Willow stared at Xander's back, keeping her eyes trained solely on him. If she didn't, they'd drift towards Spike and that was something she didn't need to be doing right now. She was angry, and insulted. And kind of touched that Spike had championed her. In a way. But still angry.
"Why was I not involved here, guys? Research girl, remember? I could've been helping all this time." She wanted to say more than that, but couldn't find the words to express herself at the moment. They were all watching her, stealing looks her way, staring at her. Well, no, that last one was only Spike. But it made her nervous.
"Will," Buffy said gently, like she was a kitten who'd clawed up the couch, "you were hurt. You could barely get out of bed."
"Granted," she agreed, nodding a bit crookedly, "but-- there's something out there hunting what I am. I think that's pretty important."
"It is." Giles rounded the counter, darting quickly out of Anya's way as she headed toward the counter with a dust rag and began swatting it at the jars and books. "Willow, you must understand that things have changed since..." he paused, his eyes softening slightly, "since you killed Glory. We couldn't be sure what might happen."
Anya, ever the truthful pragmatist, told it like it was. "They were afraid you'd go evil again and kill someone else."
"Anya!" Xander yelled, standing up angrily and walking over to her. He grabbed her arm and hauled her with him toward the training room. "Excuse us, gotta talk."
Willow sighed, knowing she should be wondering what was up with Xander, but they were worried enough and she had her own problems. Her friends thought she was going to kill again? Did they think Ben was innocent? That she'd killed him just for the heck of it? She'd been eliminating a threat from their lives, a huge threat. The biggest.
"I think I wanna go home," she said quietly, climbing to her feet a little too quickly. Pain tore through her back, but she ignored it. She didn't need their sympathy right now. They thought she was a murderer. "Dawnie, you wanna walk with me?"
Dawn closed her book with a snap, nodding. "Sure. But, shouldn't we have some muscle too?" She bit her lip, looking toward Buffy.
"No," Willow said stupidly. She was in no condition to protect herself, let alone Dawn as well. Of course they needed someone to go with them, but at the moment, she really didn't want to talk to Buffy. "We'll be fine."
"I'll drive you," Giles said quietly, grabbing his keys and starting around the counter. "Get your things, Dawn."
"No." Again, that was Willow turning down an escort.
"There's no room for discussion on this," Giles insisted. "I'm driving you. Come on." He walked past her to the front door, holding it open as he grabbed his jacket from the rack beside the door and waited for them.
Willow walked past him without acknowledging him in any way. She went straight to the red convertible and waited.
She was not evil. Why would they even think that? Didn't they know her well enough to know that she wouldn't just... kill willy-nilly? Apparently not.
Giles came out a minute later, followed hastily by Dawn carrying her books. Her papers were stuck inside her books, sticking out this way and that. She dropped her pencil and bent down to pick it up, giving Giles a nice, healthy glare as she did so.
"Couldn't wait an extra thirty seconds so I could put these in my backpack?" she muttered, striding past Giles to the back of the car.
"Take the front, Dawn," Willow told her, climbing slowly into the back seat. The front would entail conversation most likely, and she didn't want to have any at the moment. She wanted silence and time to think. Think, not about their subtle accusations of her being evil, or even about Spike, nope, she wanted to think about Tara.
Her first and immediate thought had been for Tara when she heard about the witch hunter, but it wasn't in the way one might expect a lover--or recently broken-up lover--to feel. She'd been worried and afraid for her, but not in the sweat-inducing, heart-pounding way she'd felt when she thought Tara was going to leave her to be with her family.
She'd been worried about her as a friend.
She hadn't spent one moment thinking she'd never hear Tara's voice whisper to her in the middle of the night, or feel her hands on her. She didn't worry that she'd never feel Tara's kiss again, or miss the sounds she made during sex. What she'd worried about was missing her as a whole.
Giles circled around the car, glancing at her briefly, but begging off saying anything. Dawn climbed in the front, dropping her things to the seat beside her with a sigh. He slid behind the wheel, started the car, and sat there for a minute, looking in the rearview mirror at her. But not leaving.
Just leave, she wanted to shout at him. Turning her face to the side, she glanced inside the shop, seeing Spike and Buffy arguing again.
He looked in her direction almost at the same time as she saw him, but his attention was right back on Buffy. Well, guess he wasn't over that little love-thing he had for her.
Jealousy now? she screamed at her mind. Of all the stupid times to be thinking about something as pathetic as that. Okay, not so pathetic, she knew. She cared about Spike. Obviously. Kissing a person tended to make her take notice of things like that.
Giles sighed at her lack of attention toward him and finally put the car into gear, pulling out into the street. Dawn asked Giles a question, which got them both talking quietly. Willow ignored their chatter throughout the drive, preferring to keep her own company for the time being.
She was free now, and Spike was someone she had a sudden interest in, but he wasn't free. And he loved Buffy. The question was, where had this sudden interest for him come from? She hadn't even known it was there before he kissed her. Well, maybe a little before that. When she caught him and his girlfriend in the middle of... stuff. There'd been a little uncomfortable wriggling in her mind that she later identified as jealousy.
Or envy. Maybe it was just that she envied him his happy sexual relationship. Hers had been going downhill for some weeks and then to hear Diana, a Goddess for heaven's sake, say that her happiness lay elsewhere... well, it was a little much to take in.
So, were her newfound feelings for Spike going to be a problem in her newfound life of less than supportive friendships to bask in?
No.
She'd simply forget about him, and move on with her life. Even if it was a life without supportive friends. Or a lover. Or... the self-confidence to use magick again. Ho hum.
She laid down on the back seat, keeping her back to the front of the car so it wouldn't rub, and closed her eyes, feeling the wind blow her hair around and slip under her clothes. The loose shirt she had on now was less revealing than last night's mistake, but it had big sleeves for the wind to slip through. She shivered in the cool night air, wanting nothing more than to lay down on her bed and go to sleep under the nice warm blankets, hugging Harvey, the stuffed penguin she'd gotten as a birthday present from Xander when they were eight.
Giles pulled up in front of Buffy's house and turned around to talk to her, resting his arm along the back of the seat. She pushed against the seat in a hint for Dawn to get out and waited, not looking at Giles. As soon as Dawn was out, she followed suit.
"Willow, we love you. We're only concerned that the magick is still with you." Giles' voice raised over the sound of his car door shutting, and she just knew he was heading up the sidewalk with them, intending to explain things.
To make her listen.
Placating him seemed like the best way to avoid a long drawn out conversation filled with accusations and betrayals, so she nodded and smiled. "I know, Giles. I understand, I do, but I--" oops, there wasn't supposed to be a but, there was supposed to be agreement and then a goodbye. "I'm hurt that you guys act like I killed him just for the fun of it."
"We think no such thing," Giles retorted angrily, drawing his brows together to glare at her. "Willow, have we ever given you reason to think we'd actually accuse you of... of killing someone for the simple pleasure of it?"
She dug her keys out of her pocket with a sigh, wishing he'd just go away. But that didn't seem likely. Sticking the key in the lock, she opened the door and motioned Dawn to precede her inside.
"Finish your homework," she told Dawn, reaching inside to turn on the porch light. As Dawn sighed and headed into the dining room to do her school work, Willow turned back to Giles. "You as much as said you did," she answered, just as angrily.
"No, what I said was that we were afraid of what might happen." He pulled his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a few seconds as he calmed himself down. "Look, the magick you were inside of was pure. It's different from the magick used during spells. Spell magick is... is earth-bound. It's governed by laws and rules. This stuff wasn't."
"I know that," she sighed, sitting on the brick pillar to face him. "I know. I mean, you guys don't seem to want to let me forget. I screwed up. Again. My fault. Again." She looked out across the yard, wondering if it had ever rained the night before. "I get it," she whispered.
Giles sighed, replacing his glasses as he sat on the opposite pillar. "No, I don't think you do. This is our worry. Our-- our concern for you. We don't want you getting hurt." He set his hands on his thighs and stared at her. "Have you considered the fact that the magick may still have a hold on you?"
Okay, startling. "No. I-- I mean, I'm fine. Feeling really non-evil and stuff. Nothing unusual has happened..." she trailed off, remembering Spike's hands on her, his lips settling softly, one last time, on the nape of her neck, the look in his eyes as he watched her. Perhaps she was being a bit hasty in her dismissal of the magick. It wasn't unbelievable that Spike could have an interest in her, but it was all rather sudden. Her own feelings had come about so quickly. What if she'd said or done something to make them attracted to each other?
Oh, God. What if it was another 'my will be done' spell? He'd kill her for sure this time. Good thing he had that chip hanging around in his brain.
Giles sat forward intently, waiting for her to continue. "What is it?"
"Oh," she said dismissively, waving her hand in front of her, "nothing. I was just trying to remember if anything weird had happened. But, there's nothing," she said cheerfully, standing up and heading toward the door.
She had to talk to Spike. But, how to get a hold of him? Call the shop, ask for him? Big no. She couldn't go to his crypt and wait for him... even if she could move around. Girlfriend issues.
Giles touched her arm, halting her speedy retreat. He hugged her quickly and awkwardly, smiling a little at her surprise. "Feel better. Another application of the salve should get rid of the ache and the muscle pulling." He chuckled as he headed toward the stairs. "I'm rather happy Spike isn't here tonight, but I suspect Dawn will do as well."
"Mm," she agreed, hurrying inside. She shut the door, leaning back against it with her butt. What to do, what to do? Nothing. That's what she'd do. Wait to see if it went away on its own, and, barring that, wait until the next time she saw Spike. There was no way to actively seek him out, so, waiting was the way to go this time.
Flipping off the porch light, she locked the door and glanced into the dining room. Dawn was at the head of the table, her books spread out in front of her, her lip between her teeth as she thought, then scribbled her answer on the wrinkled piece of paper in front of her.
"Need some help?" she asked. Homework was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but at least it would occupy her mind, leaving her unable to feel guilty and horrible for possibly putting a spell on Spike.
"Nope," Dawn answered, looking up briefly from her book with a smile. "I think I can handle the history homework on my own. It's the math I may be begging you to help me with later."
"Okay." She looked longingly up the stairs, wanting to climb up there and go to bed, but she didn't want to leave Dawn alone down here. She was old enough to watch out for herself... in a normal town maybe, but here? Nah. Instead of her bed, she headed into the front room and the company of the TV.
Without Spike this time. Dropping onto the couch, she sat back gingerly, turning on the set. After five minutes of surfing, she found a show on the discovery channel about vampires. She left it there, but soon changed when she found out the 'vampires' were actually humans with a taste for blood.
Music videos it was then. And a few aspirin.
The kitchen was dark when she went in there, but she left the light off as she grabbed a can of soda for her and another for Dawn. She popped the top, downing three aspirin with a gulp of the soda. Her back seemed determined to make itself as annoying as possible. It was starting to itch now as well, and some of the muscles were twitching.
"Here ya go." She set Dawn's soda on the table by her papers and headed back into the living room just in time to change the channel from one of the boy bands she hated. After another five minutes, she turned it off and went in search of her laptop.
Research gal to the rescue.