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 (15/?)
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 15
Willow stretched her body as much as she could, reveling in the pain that was currently not showing up in any of her muscles. It was good to wake up beside someone-- a someone who felt something sort of love-ish toward her.
That she felt sort of love-ish right back at him was nice too.
She relaxed against Spike's side, wondering when, and why, he'd raised her into a sitting position beside him. She'd obviously been deep into her slumber.
He was sitting up with his back against the headboard, while she rested against his left side, facing his chest, that naked and muscle-bound chest she was growing really fond of. Her head was tucked against his shoulder, her left arm stretched out across his stomach.
Had he draped and posed her against him? Like a Barbie doll, she thought, stifling a giggle.
She could feel his muscles loosen and tighten as he moved, feel the softness of his skin beneath her own. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, warming his skin with her own heat, giving him borrowed heat. And--aw--his hand was resting on top of her head, holding it still for a kiss.
Double aw.
Spike was being so sweet and tender toward her. Seeing this side of him compared to the hard-as-nails, always arguing, furious vampire she was used to seeing when he dealt with Buffy, she had a hard time reconciling the two personas.
He shifted against her the smallest bit, resting his cheek comfortably on her head while the flat of his hand rubbed up and down her arm. Holding herself still, she took stock of the situation and her feelings.
The situation was nice, and heck, she felt pretty good. That worked for her. She was satisfied with that. Not to mention the feeling of Spike's nicely muscled arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to him, his cheek still resting on her head... and the feel of his hand as it smoothed the hair back from her forehead.
"Tell me about Tara," he said quietly, startling her with the suddenness of his deep voice. "What happened?"
Uncurling her fingers from where they'd clenched into his side, she started to push away to look at him, but he held her still. Well, she could stay here if he wanted her to. It was a nice place to be. "What do you mean?"
There was a tiny thought that he was curious about Tara because he wanted to run to seduce her too. Maybe he was making his way down the ranks of the Scoobies, from one end of the women to the next. Seducing them all in his quest to-- okay, stupidest person of the year? Willow Rosenberg, ladies and gentlemen, Willow Rosenberg.
"Why aren't you two still together?" His hand slid down to her back, rubbing her gently up and down, smoothing the tired and sore muscles there. "What broke the unbreakable lovebirds up?"
Unbreakable no more, she thought, though there was no sadness there anymore. She'd come to accept the facts over the past week, and Spike had certainly helped in that regard. He took her mind off of things that couldn't be changed, gave her something to think about besides the loss of Tara and the evil magick-crazed person she'd become for a while.
Not to mention the death she'd caused.
"Well," she said slowly, snuggling closer to his bare chest, cuddling against his hard body. "A few weeks ago, Tara found a spell and she wanted to try it."
"I'm going to take a wild guess here and say... something went wrong?" There was no accusation in his voice, no blame or suspicion, which was unusual.
Whenever she mentioned spells, it seemed like everyone around her groaned and asked what she'd done wrong. He wasn't technically blaming her. Just... inquiring. "No, nothing went wrong."
She pulled away from him, to be able to see him. His deep blue eyes, eyes that she now knew were deep blue, were watching her with interest, and they only dipped down to her naked chest once.
Hurray for him.
"Nothing went wrong," she repeated, straightening up, keeping her back free of the sheets behind her. She pulled the blanket around and draped it in front of her, shivering in the chilly air. "Everything worked, it was all good. Well, you know, except the part where Tara was hit with my magick... thingie, and knocked out." She shrugged, not having any answers for that part of it. "Once she started breathing again, she was fine."
His eyes widened in surprise. "You hit her with magick and killed her for a few seconds and this is a spell that went *right*?"
She rolled her eyes in agreement, knowing he was thinking the same thing she'd thought at the time. She'd done something big to screw up again. Only... looking more closely at him, she realized that he wasn't thinking that. He was just curious, still not being blame-y. "Yeah, I thought I screwed it up too, especially after we began to lose interest in each other."
"Knocked the feelings right out of you, did it?" Okay, now he sounded skeptical. His eyebrows raised in disbelief, his mouth twisting into a scowl. "Don't do that spell on me. Ever."
"I won't," she hurriedly assured him, looking up from where she was tucking the end of the pink blanket into the makeshift dress she'd fashioned on herself. Plain and simple, but beautiful, dahlink. "It didn't actually take our feelings away either. They're still there, and probably always will be. But we just..." she sighed, trying to think of the best way to describe the effects of the spell on them.
His hand lifted up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear again. He seemed to like to do that, and though it was nice, and kind of sweet, it was also bugging her. She resisted the urge to pull the hair free from where it was tickling her jaw, and focused her attention on his hand as it dropped to his lap. He raised one knee up, resting his arm on top of it as he waited, watching her with interest.
"Then why are you two not two anymore?" His other hand, the free one, moved to the back of his neck, rubbing his muscles.
Her eyes followed his hand, frowning at the marks on his wrists. "It took all the pleasure out of our relationship," she said absently, frowning even more when she saw his other wrist was in a similar condition. "Where'd those bruises come from?"
"Hmm?" he said in confusion, glancing down at his wrists, which were ringed in bruises. He raised his left arm to eye height, turning his wrist around in puzzlement. "I don't-- oh, uh, you." He chuckled at the wide-eyed look of blank surprise on her face.
"Me?" she echoed, shaking her head. "I didn't do that."
"When I tried to leave," he reminded her, smoothing the back of his fingers across her cheek. "You persuaded me to stay."
"Oh." She hadn't realized she was gripping him that hard. Huh. She'd bruised a vampire. A smile slipped across her lips, causing him to frown. "Guess I don't know my own strength."
"Mm," he agreed, tracing his thumb across the arch of her eyebrow. "So, the pleasure was gone, but everything else was still there?"
It took her a few seconds to figure out what he was talking about, but then she remembered their conversation. The one they were having where they were talking and not just concentrating on touching. "Oh, right. Yes, duh. It was a Happiness Spell. Supposedly, when done, the spell allows the people involved to feel the full extent of their happiness in all things. All the time."
"So, you did the spell, and it took away the happiness rather than giving it to you?" She nodded, causing him to tilt his head to the side in confusion. "But you said the spell worked. Sounds to me like it went poof."
Willow nodded some more, while staring at his lips. Had they always been that kissable? "It worked, but..." she sighed, turning around so that she could sit against his side, tucked comfortably under his arm. "The spell was-- um, instead of giving us all the blah, blah, blah, it took it away so that we could find the person we're meant to be truly happy with." She shrugged, feeling his arm raise up with the movement. "At least, that's the way I took it. I asked Diana--"
"Again with the Diana," he interrupted, wrapping his other arm around her waist, holding her in his embrace. "Is this the Goddess Diana? As in the Goddess of love and all that?"
"That's the one. The condor feather spell?" she reminded him, tilting her head back to look up at him. "That was for a spell to talk to Diana, to ask her what I did wrong." Sliding her hand behind him, because it was simply more comfortable there, she cuddled into his side. "She said I didn't do anything wrong, just that my happiness didn't truly lie with Tara."
He was silent for a minute, but when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "You think your happiness lies with me?"
She was sure she heard a small amount of hope in there, but she couldn't have. Big bad vampires did not crave the company of little human witches. It just wasn't done.
So, she played dumb. "Um, no. I-- no, why?" Smart, real smart. He wasn't going to suspect she was lying at all. Nope. She sighed softly, closing her eyes in aggravation at herself. "Maybe," she admitted, cringing in anticipation of his response.
"Works for me," he told her, tightening his arms around her even more.
Willow nodded silently, wondering if he felt like he could possibly find happiness with her. It'd be nice if he mentioned it, but he seemed content to hold her and stay silent. "What about Buffy?" He'd told her already that the feelings he thought he had for Buffy weren't what he'd thought they were at the time. She believed him. She did. But, if there was a chance that that was going to change again, she'd rather know now.
His hand stilled on her back, his chest rising and falling with a single breath. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I think my Buffy-obsession was little more than misplaced feelings. Told you before; Dru was gone, and I'd been with her my whole life, but for the first twenty or so. Harmony was a replacement body, nothing more."
She nodded, understanding what he was saying, and even feeling an affinity for him and his floundering. Oz certainly had thrown her for a loop when he left, so she could understand how easy it was to want someone--anyone--so badly that he mistook that need for love.
She hadn't done that with Tara, but she easily could have. "When you came to us for help, Buffy was all, 'punch first, demand answers later'. And, oddly enough, you liked that?"
"No," he denied, "I didn't. Hated it in fact. But as time went on... Buffy became something in my mind. Something untouchable, out of reach. Forbidden--"
"--fruit," she finished for him, stretching her arms further around him, touching the tips of her fingers together around his waist. "I know the feeling well, Grasshopper." She tipped her head up, smiling at him. "Xander."
"Xander?" He shook his head in confusion, looking a bit repulsed. "I'm sitting naked here, love, don't bring *him* into the conversation. That's just..." he paused, shuddering in disgust, "gross."
"Gross?" Willow laughed, grinning at him. "Spike, you've killed hundreds, even thousands, of people--" she stopped suddenly, frowning at the realization that what she'd just said was true. Absolutely true. And that wasn't okay with her.
Her boyfriend was a mass murderer.
She sat up straight, moving nonchalantly away from Spike's side, pretending she wasn't running from him. Pretending she was okay, and nothing was wrong, but she could tell that he knew.
He watched her carefully, through hooded eyes, as she wrapped the sheet around herself and stood up. "I won't deny it," he told her angrily, pushing himself to his feet as well. Only with less covers. "I can't deny it, because it's true. All of it, everything. I've killed, I've enjoyed it... and if I had this blasted chip out--" he began, but then he suddenly clammed up, snapping his mouth shut.
"You'd still be killing," she finished for him, hating that he was confirming one of her biggest fears. She nodded slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch him dress. He was so beautiful, and though she knew men didn't like being told that, she had to at least think it.
He was beautiful, and strong, and a killer. Could she live with that? Could she forget that he used to suck the life out of people while they pleaded for help and begged him not to kill them?
She'd killed a man, she knew what it felt like to snuff out someone's life. But she hadn't enjoyed it, and that's where they differed.
Spike paused in the middle of buttoning his jeans. "Yes. If I ever--" he sighed, finishing buttoning his pants as he walked over to her. He looked down into her face, smiled a little as he reached a hand out to touch her hair, playing with the strands absently. "When this chip is gone," he looked away for a second, "if it ever malfunctions?" His eyes returned to hers slowly, a frown playing across his brow. "I'm going to start feeding again. But if you want me to, I can eat junk food."
"Junk food," she echoed, tightening the sheet around her. "Junkies? You mean druggies?" That so wouldn't be okay, it was still wrong.
What if one of them was a father of three? Or a single mother who made some wrong choices? That didn't make it right.
"Not druggies." He dropped his hand to his side, his face tightening in anger at her lack of acceptance to his compromise. "I meant murderers and rapists." Stalking over to his t-shirt, he bent down, grabbing it from the floor to yank over his head. "You told me--" his eyes went wide for a second, then narrowed. His head shook in self-recrimination. "Forget it."
"No." She stood up, feeling like the wronged party in this whole thing. "What did I tell you? We've never talked about this, Spike. Ever. So what could I possibly have told you?"
He shrugged, sliding on his socks and slipping his feet into his boots. "Doesn't matter."
Beg to differ, she thought, walking across the room to stand in front of him. "Yes, it does. The very fact that you kill people for fun is sort of a big turn off for me." She moved past him to her dresser. Yanking the top drawer open, she pawed through her underwear, searching for something to wear. "I know I killed someone too. And I feel-- horrible about it, but it needed to be done." Grabbing a pair of nice, plain, white cotton briefs, she stepped into them and smoothed the sheet back down over her legs. "You, on the other hand, don't kill out of need, you kill for fun." Slamming her drawer shut, she opened the third one down on the right side, pulling out the first nightshirt she happened upon, which happened to be one with a giant cartoon cat on it, winking at whoever saw it.
She slipped it over her head, loosening the sheet from around her chest and letting it fall to the floor. Turning around, she picked it back up and threw it at the bed as she neared it.
Spike was looking at her as if he just couldn't believe his ears. "Hello!" he yelled, "I'm a vampire. I need blood to live. Otherwise?" He held his hands out, mimicking a small explosion. "Poof!"
"Pig's blood," she argued, planting her hands on her hips. Not a favorite position of hers, and one she only used once in a great while, but Spike was aggravating her and she felt it was needed. "You could continue to drink--"
"Swill," he ground out, narrowing his eyes on her. "Would you give up every food you've ever liked to eat one very nasty type of food just to stay alive, Willow?" He sat on the bed to tie his laces, glaring at her as he did so. "Try eating a slice of bread for every meal for the next week and see just how much you like it."
"I could," she bluffed, knowing darn well she'd get sick of it after only a day or two. When he put it that way, using logic and stuff, well, she could see his point. And she didn't like it. She dropped her hands to her sides, exhaling a long breath as she considered the man on her bed. "Is it really that bad?"
He tilted his head at her in disbelief. "What do you think?"
Dropping her eyes to the floor briefly, she sat beside him. "I-- I don't know what to think." She shrugged helplessly, furrowing her brow unhappily. "I can't just say, 'Oh, go on, Spike, go kill, and have fun. Be back by dawn.' It's just... it's not that easy for me to accept."
"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice resigned, "I know. I knew before I mentioned it." Turning just his eyes to her, he looked at her curiously. "And if I could kill again? What then?"
She once again lifted her shoulders in a shrug, this one just as helpless as the last one as she folded her hands between her knees. "I-- I don't--" sighing in annoyance at her inability to answer him, she just shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on her thumbs, sticking up from between her knees. "I think it's a good thing we don't have to worry about that right now." Lifting her head to face him as a sudden thought struck her, she swallowed back a groan. "We don't, right?"
He stared back at her, his silence speaking volumes. "I should go. Buffy'll be home soon and I'd prefer not to run into her." He settled his hands on his thighs and pushed himself to his feet. Without turning back to face her, he walked over to the chair at her vanity table and picked up his duster. "I won't be running into her, will I?"
"No," Willow whispered, blinking back tears. She felt like such a hypocrite. What right did she have to judge him when she was just as much of a murderer as he was? Not in quantity, but the one life she'd taken weighed heavily on her soul, despite the necessity of it. How could she possibly be with Spike knowing he was out killing every night?
The creak of leather drew her attention back to him. She watched as he crossed to the window, sliding his arms into the duster as he went. The bottom hem of the leather coat swished back and forth with every step he took. And every step took him further and further away from her.
He slid the window up, turning to her at the last second before climbing onto the rooftop. His eyes softened, the blue of his irises striking her even this far away. "It'd be so easy to --" he closed his eyes with a sigh, shaking his head as he hooked an arm out the window, preparing to leave her.
And with a comment like that! Without even finishing the thought. She jumped up angrily, stalking over to the window. "To what, kill me?" Crossing her arms over her chest, feeling a slight breeze blow through the window and kick up her nightshirt, she frowned at Spike, daring him to confirm her worst fears.
He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head as his eyes ran over her in disappointment. "To fall in love with you," he said flatly, climbing through the window and disappearing into the night.
Willow stared after him, wanting to call out for him to stop, but not daring to. It would be best if he left. She couldn't have any sort of relationship with him, not if his chip was malfunctioning, and it would only hurt to prolong their time together.
But it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to stop. Even knowing he was armed and dangerous. Even knowing he could very well have killed again already. She stayed silent, listening to his fading footsteps crunching along the shingles.
She'd keep an eye out for news from Buffy or other demons to see if he was killing again. But she wouldn't tell anyone. Disapproving of his actions herself was one thing, telling the others, knowing full well they'd go after him to kill him... that wasn't possible.
Because, she'd already begun to fall in love with him, and she wasn't Buffy. She couldn't willingly kill Spike, or be responsible for his death. He was where her happiness lay. A goddess had as much as told her so.
TITLE: Order Now (15/?)
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 15
Willow stretched her body as much as she could, reveling in the pain that was currently not showing up in any of her muscles. It was good to wake up beside someone-- a someone who felt something sort of love-ish toward her.
That she felt sort of love-ish right back at him was nice too.
She relaxed against Spike's side, wondering when, and why, he'd raised her into a sitting position beside him. She'd obviously been deep into her slumber.
He was sitting up with his back against the headboard, while she rested against his left side, facing his chest, that naked and muscle-bound chest she was growing really fond of. Her head was tucked against his shoulder, her left arm stretched out across his stomach.
Had he draped and posed her against him? Like a Barbie doll, she thought, stifling a giggle.
She could feel his muscles loosen and tighten as he moved, feel the softness of his skin beneath her own. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, warming his skin with her own heat, giving him borrowed heat. And--aw--his hand was resting on top of her head, holding it still for a kiss.
Double aw.
Spike was being so sweet and tender toward her. Seeing this side of him compared to the hard-as-nails, always arguing, furious vampire she was used to seeing when he dealt with Buffy, she had a hard time reconciling the two personas.
He shifted against her the smallest bit, resting his cheek comfortably on her head while the flat of his hand rubbed up and down her arm. Holding herself still, she took stock of the situation and her feelings.
The situation was nice, and heck, she felt pretty good. That worked for her. She was satisfied with that. Not to mention the feeling of Spike's nicely muscled arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to him, his cheek still resting on her head... and the feel of his hand as it smoothed the hair back from her forehead.
"Tell me about Tara," he said quietly, startling her with the suddenness of his deep voice. "What happened?"
Uncurling her fingers from where they'd clenched into his side, she started to push away to look at him, but he held her still. Well, she could stay here if he wanted her to. It was a nice place to be. "What do you mean?"
There was a tiny thought that he was curious about Tara because he wanted to run to seduce her too. Maybe he was making his way down the ranks of the Scoobies, from one end of the women to the next. Seducing them all in his quest to-- okay, stupidest person of the year? Willow Rosenberg, ladies and gentlemen, Willow Rosenberg.
"Why aren't you two still together?" His hand slid down to her back, rubbing her gently up and down, smoothing the tired and sore muscles there. "What broke the unbreakable lovebirds up?"
Unbreakable no more, she thought, though there was no sadness there anymore. She'd come to accept the facts over the past week, and Spike had certainly helped in that regard. He took her mind off of things that couldn't be changed, gave her something to think about besides the loss of Tara and the evil magick-crazed person she'd become for a while.
Not to mention the death she'd caused.
"Well," she said slowly, snuggling closer to his bare chest, cuddling against his hard body. "A few weeks ago, Tara found a spell and she wanted to try it."
"I'm going to take a wild guess here and say... something went wrong?" There was no accusation in his voice, no blame or suspicion, which was unusual.
Whenever she mentioned spells, it seemed like everyone around her groaned and asked what she'd done wrong. He wasn't technically blaming her. Just... inquiring. "No, nothing went wrong."
She pulled away from him, to be able to see him. His deep blue eyes, eyes that she now knew were deep blue, were watching her with interest, and they only dipped down to her naked chest once.
Hurray for him.
"Nothing went wrong," she repeated, straightening up, keeping her back free of the sheets behind her. She pulled the blanket around and draped it in front of her, shivering in the chilly air. "Everything worked, it was all good. Well, you know, except the part where Tara was hit with my magick... thingie, and knocked out." She shrugged, not having any answers for that part of it. "Once she started breathing again, she was fine."
His eyes widened in surprise. "You hit her with magick and killed her for a few seconds and this is a spell that went *right*?"
She rolled her eyes in agreement, knowing he was thinking the same thing she'd thought at the time. She'd done something big to screw up again. Only... looking more closely at him, she realized that he wasn't thinking that. He was just curious, still not being blame-y. "Yeah, I thought I screwed it up too, especially after we began to lose interest in each other."
"Knocked the feelings right out of you, did it?" Okay, now he sounded skeptical. His eyebrows raised in disbelief, his mouth twisting into a scowl. "Don't do that spell on me. Ever."
"I won't," she hurriedly assured him, looking up from where she was tucking the end of the pink blanket into the makeshift dress she'd fashioned on herself. Plain and simple, but beautiful, dahlink. "It didn't actually take our feelings away either. They're still there, and probably always will be. But we just..." she sighed, trying to think of the best way to describe the effects of the spell on them.
His hand lifted up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear again. He seemed to like to do that, and though it was nice, and kind of sweet, it was also bugging her. She resisted the urge to pull the hair free from where it was tickling her jaw, and focused her attention on his hand as it dropped to his lap. He raised one knee up, resting his arm on top of it as he waited, watching her with interest.
"Then why are you two not two anymore?" His other hand, the free one, moved to the back of his neck, rubbing his muscles.
Her eyes followed his hand, frowning at the marks on his wrists. "It took all the pleasure out of our relationship," she said absently, frowning even more when she saw his other wrist was in a similar condition. "Where'd those bruises come from?"
"Hmm?" he said in confusion, glancing down at his wrists, which were ringed in bruises. He raised his left arm to eye height, turning his wrist around in puzzlement. "I don't-- oh, uh, you." He chuckled at the wide-eyed look of blank surprise on her face.
"Me?" she echoed, shaking her head. "I didn't do that."
"When I tried to leave," he reminded her, smoothing the back of his fingers across her cheek. "You persuaded me to stay."
"Oh." She hadn't realized she was gripping him that hard. Huh. She'd bruised a vampire. A smile slipped across her lips, causing him to frown. "Guess I don't know my own strength."
"Mm," he agreed, tracing his thumb across the arch of her eyebrow. "So, the pleasure was gone, but everything else was still there?"
It took her a few seconds to figure out what he was talking about, but then she remembered their conversation. The one they were having where they were talking and not just concentrating on touching. "Oh, right. Yes, duh. It was a Happiness Spell. Supposedly, when done, the spell allows the people involved to feel the full extent of their happiness in all things. All the time."
"So, you did the spell, and it took away the happiness rather than giving it to you?" She nodded, causing him to tilt his head to the side in confusion. "But you said the spell worked. Sounds to me like it went poof."
Willow nodded some more, while staring at his lips. Had they always been that kissable? "It worked, but..." she sighed, turning around so that she could sit against his side, tucked comfortably under his arm. "The spell was-- um, instead of giving us all the blah, blah, blah, it took it away so that we could find the person we're meant to be truly happy with." She shrugged, feeling his arm raise up with the movement. "At least, that's the way I took it. I asked Diana--"
"Again with the Diana," he interrupted, wrapping his other arm around her waist, holding her in his embrace. "Is this the Goddess Diana? As in the Goddess of love and all that?"
"That's the one. The condor feather spell?" she reminded him, tilting her head back to look up at him. "That was for a spell to talk to Diana, to ask her what I did wrong." Sliding her hand behind him, because it was simply more comfortable there, she cuddled into his side. "She said I didn't do anything wrong, just that my happiness didn't truly lie with Tara."
He was silent for a minute, but when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "You think your happiness lies with me?"
She was sure she heard a small amount of hope in there, but she couldn't have. Big bad vampires did not crave the company of little human witches. It just wasn't done.
So, she played dumb. "Um, no. I-- no, why?" Smart, real smart. He wasn't going to suspect she was lying at all. Nope. She sighed softly, closing her eyes in aggravation at herself. "Maybe," she admitted, cringing in anticipation of his response.
"Works for me," he told her, tightening his arms around her even more.
Willow nodded silently, wondering if he felt like he could possibly find happiness with her. It'd be nice if he mentioned it, but he seemed content to hold her and stay silent. "What about Buffy?" He'd told her already that the feelings he thought he had for Buffy weren't what he'd thought they were at the time. She believed him. She did. But, if there was a chance that that was going to change again, she'd rather know now.
His hand stilled on her back, his chest rising and falling with a single breath. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I think my Buffy-obsession was little more than misplaced feelings. Told you before; Dru was gone, and I'd been with her my whole life, but for the first twenty or so. Harmony was a replacement body, nothing more."
She nodded, understanding what he was saying, and even feeling an affinity for him and his floundering. Oz certainly had thrown her for a loop when he left, so she could understand how easy it was to want someone--anyone--so badly that he mistook that need for love.
She hadn't done that with Tara, but she easily could have. "When you came to us for help, Buffy was all, 'punch first, demand answers later'. And, oddly enough, you liked that?"
"No," he denied, "I didn't. Hated it in fact. But as time went on... Buffy became something in my mind. Something untouchable, out of reach. Forbidden--"
"--fruit," she finished for him, stretching her arms further around him, touching the tips of her fingers together around his waist. "I know the feeling well, Grasshopper." She tipped her head up, smiling at him. "Xander."
"Xander?" He shook his head in confusion, looking a bit repulsed. "I'm sitting naked here, love, don't bring *him* into the conversation. That's just..." he paused, shuddering in disgust, "gross."
"Gross?" Willow laughed, grinning at him. "Spike, you've killed hundreds, even thousands, of people--" she stopped suddenly, frowning at the realization that what she'd just said was true. Absolutely true. And that wasn't okay with her.
Her boyfriend was a mass murderer.
She sat up straight, moving nonchalantly away from Spike's side, pretending she wasn't running from him. Pretending she was okay, and nothing was wrong, but she could tell that he knew.
He watched her carefully, through hooded eyes, as she wrapped the sheet around herself and stood up. "I won't deny it," he told her angrily, pushing himself to his feet as well. Only with less covers. "I can't deny it, because it's true. All of it, everything. I've killed, I've enjoyed it... and if I had this blasted chip out--" he began, but then he suddenly clammed up, snapping his mouth shut.
"You'd still be killing," she finished for him, hating that he was confirming one of her biggest fears. She nodded slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch him dress. He was so beautiful, and though she knew men didn't like being told that, she had to at least think it.
He was beautiful, and strong, and a killer. Could she live with that? Could she forget that he used to suck the life out of people while they pleaded for help and begged him not to kill them?
She'd killed a man, she knew what it felt like to snuff out someone's life. But she hadn't enjoyed it, and that's where they differed.
Spike paused in the middle of buttoning his jeans. "Yes. If I ever--" he sighed, finishing buttoning his pants as he walked over to her. He looked down into her face, smiled a little as he reached a hand out to touch her hair, playing with the strands absently. "When this chip is gone," he looked away for a second, "if it ever malfunctions?" His eyes returned to hers slowly, a frown playing across his brow. "I'm going to start feeding again. But if you want me to, I can eat junk food."
"Junk food," she echoed, tightening the sheet around her. "Junkies? You mean druggies?" That so wouldn't be okay, it was still wrong.
What if one of them was a father of three? Or a single mother who made some wrong choices? That didn't make it right.
"Not druggies." He dropped his hand to his side, his face tightening in anger at her lack of acceptance to his compromise. "I meant murderers and rapists." Stalking over to his t-shirt, he bent down, grabbing it from the floor to yank over his head. "You told me--" his eyes went wide for a second, then narrowed. His head shook in self-recrimination. "Forget it."
"No." She stood up, feeling like the wronged party in this whole thing. "What did I tell you? We've never talked about this, Spike. Ever. So what could I possibly have told you?"
He shrugged, sliding on his socks and slipping his feet into his boots. "Doesn't matter."
Beg to differ, she thought, walking across the room to stand in front of him. "Yes, it does. The very fact that you kill people for fun is sort of a big turn off for me." She moved past him to her dresser. Yanking the top drawer open, she pawed through her underwear, searching for something to wear. "I know I killed someone too. And I feel-- horrible about it, but it needed to be done." Grabbing a pair of nice, plain, white cotton briefs, she stepped into them and smoothed the sheet back down over her legs. "You, on the other hand, don't kill out of need, you kill for fun." Slamming her drawer shut, she opened the third one down on the right side, pulling out the first nightshirt she happened upon, which happened to be one with a giant cartoon cat on it, winking at whoever saw it.
She slipped it over her head, loosening the sheet from around her chest and letting it fall to the floor. Turning around, she picked it back up and threw it at the bed as she neared it.
Spike was looking at her as if he just couldn't believe his ears. "Hello!" he yelled, "I'm a vampire. I need blood to live. Otherwise?" He held his hands out, mimicking a small explosion. "Poof!"
"Pig's blood," she argued, planting her hands on her hips. Not a favorite position of hers, and one she only used once in a great while, but Spike was aggravating her and she felt it was needed. "You could continue to drink--"
"Swill," he ground out, narrowing his eyes on her. "Would you give up every food you've ever liked to eat one very nasty type of food just to stay alive, Willow?" He sat on the bed to tie his laces, glaring at her as he did so. "Try eating a slice of bread for every meal for the next week and see just how much you like it."
"I could," she bluffed, knowing darn well she'd get sick of it after only a day or two. When he put it that way, using logic and stuff, well, she could see his point. And she didn't like it. She dropped her hands to her sides, exhaling a long breath as she considered the man on her bed. "Is it really that bad?"
He tilted his head at her in disbelief. "What do you think?"
Dropping her eyes to the floor briefly, she sat beside him. "I-- I don't know what to think." She shrugged helplessly, furrowing her brow unhappily. "I can't just say, 'Oh, go on, Spike, go kill, and have fun. Be back by dawn.' It's just... it's not that easy for me to accept."
"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice resigned, "I know. I knew before I mentioned it." Turning just his eyes to her, he looked at her curiously. "And if I could kill again? What then?"
She once again lifted her shoulders in a shrug, this one just as helpless as the last one as she folded her hands between her knees. "I-- I don't--" sighing in annoyance at her inability to answer him, she just shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on her thumbs, sticking up from between her knees. "I think it's a good thing we don't have to worry about that right now." Lifting her head to face him as a sudden thought struck her, she swallowed back a groan. "We don't, right?"
He stared back at her, his silence speaking volumes. "I should go. Buffy'll be home soon and I'd prefer not to run into her." He settled his hands on his thighs and pushed himself to his feet. Without turning back to face her, he walked over to the chair at her vanity table and picked up his duster. "I won't be running into her, will I?"
"No," Willow whispered, blinking back tears. She felt like such a hypocrite. What right did she have to judge him when she was just as much of a murderer as he was? Not in quantity, but the one life she'd taken weighed heavily on her soul, despite the necessity of it. How could she possibly be with Spike knowing he was out killing every night?
The creak of leather drew her attention back to him. She watched as he crossed to the window, sliding his arms into the duster as he went. The bottom hem of the leather coat swished back and forth with every step he took. And every step took him further and further away from her.
He slid the window up, turning to her at the last second before climbing onto the rooftop. His eyes softened, the blue of his irises striking her even this far away. "It'd be so easy to --" he closed his eyes with a sigh, shaking his head as he hooked an arm out the window, preparing to leave her.
And with a comment like that! Without even finishing the thought. She jumped up angrily, stalking over to the window. "To what, kill me?" Crossing her arms over her chest, feeling a slight breeze blow through the window and kick up her nightshirt, she frowned at Spike, daring him to confirm her worst fears.
He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head as his eyes ran over her in disappointment. "To fall in love with you," he said flatly, climbing through the window and disappearing into the night.
Willow stared after him, wanting to call out for him to stop, but not daring to. It would be best if he left. She couldn't have any sort of relationship with him, not if his chip was malfunctioning, and it would only hurt to prolong their time together.
But it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to stop. Even knowing he was armed and dangerous. Even knowing he could very well have killed again already. She stayed silent, listening to his fading footsteps crunching along the shingles.
She'd keep an eye out for news from Buffy or other demons to see if he was killing again. But she wouldn't tell anyone. Disapproving of his actions herself was one thing, telling the others, knowing full well they'd go after him to kill him... that wasn't possible.
Because, she'd already begun to fall in love with him, and she wasn't Buffy. She couldn't willingly kill Spike, or be responsible for his death. He was where her happiness lay. A goddess had as much as told her so.