Memories And Confessions

Disclaimer: Own nothing. Just like playing with them.

Reviews: Yes, please. Love reviews, adore reviewers. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: Bridge: I'm sorry you're not liking the direction this story is taking but to be honest, while I love having you as a reader, I gotta tell you I ain't holding a stake to your heart forcing you to keep reading. Hon, if you don't like it don't read it. All I ask is that you keep an open mind and if you can't handle this fic leave it be. Just please don't hesitate to read future ramblings. You're a valued reader and I'd hate to lose you over this one story.

WayWard Childe: I think everything I needed to say I already covered in IM's. I just like the way you think.

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Spike's body hummed with the influx of slayer blood and the passionate kisses that were numbing his brain. He could feel the bones in his hands healing. His darkening eyes opened and watched the lovely slayer as she dove down to plunder his mouth again. His dark lashes fluttered down and created shadows on his lean cheekbones.

'Bloody Hell.' He thought. 'She's so hot. Sweet, so sweet. Suddenly I'm kinda happy she didn't dust me. She fed me her blood! Why would she do that? She doesn't know me. I have to slow this down. What am I thinking? She's hot. She's all over me. Go for it, you ponce. No, this is too fast.'

Spike pulled back from her kisses and blinked up at her in puzzlement. She smiled down at him.

"You're wondering why, aren't you?" She asked. He nodded. She bit her lip and if he could have, he would have groaned. "Do you remember a while back you and Buffy had a conversation in the Bronze? She said something like, 'I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like warm champagne, and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more.'" He gulped, his eyes wide and aroused at the memory. He'd never forgotten that particular conversation. She smiled wickedly and leaned down until her breath teased his ear. "That wasn't Buffy. It was me."

He shuddered as his physical reaction to her kisses and the memory bordered on painful. He lightly rested his bandaged hands on her leather-clad thighs and panted needlessly at the heat pouring off her lithe body. His sapphire eyes grew heavy-lidded and dark until they appeared almost black. Faith smiled down at him before lowering her mouth back to his. She nibbled on his full lower lip then took advantage of his gasp and deepened the kiss. His head now rested on the back of the sofa as she hovered over him and ravished his cool mouth. His hands flexed and he hissed at the pain.

Faith ran her hands down his arms, her touch light on his muscles, until she reached his still healing hands. She loosely grasped his wrists and pulled his arms up until his bandaged hands rested safely on the cushion behind his head. She smiled at the picture he made, his blond hair mussed into tousled curls, his arms stretched over his head, dark cobalt eyes passion-glazed rather than pain filled as they had been earlier. She frowned as she realized there was something wrong with the image he presented. A sparkle lit her dark chocolate eyes as she teasingly ran her hands down his chest until her fingertips grazed the bottom of his black t-shirt.

"Should I keep my promise?" She asked huskily. His eyes reflected his question. 'Promise?'

His stomach muscles twitched as she began to inch the t-shirt up to reveal his toned, alabaster torso to her hungry gaze. Her hair brushed his face as her lush mouth caressed his earlobe. "So… you wanna gallop?" Warm air shivered his neck as she breathed the question onto his skin. She grinned as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Much, much later….

The rain beat down on the combatants and the thunder shook the atmosphere in time with the punches being thrown. She could feel her tears mixing with the rain on her face as she swung her fists against the large body before her. Her punches lost their impact until she collapsed against him in tears. They sank down to the wet sidewalk as she sobbed onto his broad shoulder. She could hear him murmuring to her that he was there and it would be all right. Somehow she believed him. She'd wanted him to kill her but now she wanted him to save her.

She looked down at the vampire on his knees in front of her begging her with startling blue eyes to use the stake in her hand to end his existence. This was her chance to pass on the favor done to her years before by this creature's sire. She wouldn't kill him, she would help him. Something in her expression angered the blond demon because he leaped to his feet and ran off. She wanted to follow, to help, but her feet were stuck to the ground. The solid surface she was standing on changed and she began to sink. She struggled but felt herself losing the battle as she slowly began to sink out of sight.

Faith sat up with a gasp. The last few bits of her nightmare faded quickly as she caught her breath. Glancing around to get her bearings, she remembered where she was and who she was with. At some point in the night, they'd managed to relocate downstairs to the queen-sized bed Spike owned. She'd been surprised at the comfort of his bedroom. He'd shrugged shyly when she'd commented on it. Surprise had quickly given way to passion and they'd spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other's arms. A few candles were still flickering allowing her to gaze around the room curiously. She winced when she saw the bloodstained wall that he'd wrecked his hands on.

She lay down and propped her head on her hand. Her dark eyes roamed over the leanly muscled body next to her. His hands were healed now thanks to her blood. She shivered as she remembered when he'd realized he could use his talented fingers and proceeded to drive her crazy with them. Her gaze moved up to his handsome face. He looked so innocent in his sleep. She smiled when she realized he was breathing. His full lower lip tempted her but she resisted for a few more minutes. She wanted to savor the peace etched on his finely drawn features. She normally left as soon as she was finished with sex but she couldn't force herself to leave the warm bed. Her senses tingled as she realized he was waking up. Sleepy blue eyes opened and her heart thumped when pleased surprise that she was still there bloomed in the sapphire depths. Someone had severely mistreated this beautiful man and she found herself wanting to protect him.

His slender hand moved up to rake newly healed fingers through her long thick hair. His expressive eyes followed the movement. He cupped her jaw and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. His gaze was attracted by the nearly healed cut on the side of her neck. He traced his fingers delicately across the mark. She shivered at the touch. He caught her eyes with his own. Making sure he had her attention he deliberately mouthed, 'Thank you.'

She kissed him lightly. "You're welcome."

'Why?' The word was unmistakable.

"Because I needed to. The other night when you wanted me to dust you, I couldn't do it. I was in that place a while back and I knew that I had to help you the way I was helped." She wasn't happy with her explanation but it was the best she could do.

Spike rose to his elbow, raised his scarred eyebrow inquiringly and indicated their nude bodies under the silk sheets with his hand. She caught his question. "No, I didn't sleep with him. It was different. You're different." Suddenly she saw the teasing sparkle in his gorgeous eyes. She swatted him lightly on the chest. He caught her hand in his and brought it up to his mouth, nibbling on the tips of her fingers. Her breath caught so her next statement was whispered softly. "I think I wanted to do this two years ago in the Bronze."

Her confession brought a smile to his sapphire depths and he lowered his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Part of her words to him came back forcefully and he released her momentarily. He sat up and turned to her with his hands clasped in a pleading gesture. Employing his best pout and puppy eyes, he begged just as she'd predicted he would. The implications darkened her chocolate gaze and she attacked his sexy body. She tickled him for a few minutes before passion overtook them both and dragged them back to the pleasure they'd discovered.

The Magic Box….

Giles pulled the file out of the drawer again. He'd read it so many times that he had it committed to memory; he just needed to see the words printed out in black and white. Anya was manning the register although the shop was unusually slow. She liked to stay near her money. Dimly he heard the bell above the door jangle but only looked up when Willow asked if he were there. Quickly stuffing the file back into its hiding place, he locked the drawer and went to the main part of the store to see what the young witch wanted.

"What can I do for you, Willow?" He asked. She looked troubled and glanced around nervously.

"Can we talk privately?" She wanted to know.

"Certainly. Let's go into the training room. Is that okay?" Giles led the way. There was a small sofa tucked along one wall. As soon as they sat down, the redhead began to wring her hands together.

"I don't know how to…" She made a futile gesture with both hands.

"How about at the beginning?" The watcher suggested. "It's usually the best place to start."

Willow took a deep breath. "Remember the spell I used to resurrect Buffy?" A deep frown on the older man's face told her that he did remember. "Well, since then I seem to have…um…I guess you'd call it a control problem. But it's not that I'm using magic it's that the magic is…um…creating itself. I mean there are things that have happened that I know I didn't do on purpose but they just… happened."

"What type of things?" Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them vigorously.

"Well…like a glass of water on the bedside table when I'd forgotten to fill it the night before. A sweater that wasn't in the closet one time but five minutes later is hanging right in the front. Extra money in my pocket when Dawnie needed lunch money for school. There's more." Willow explained, her head ducked as she tried to remember other little instances that couldn't otherwise be explained.

"You say this started after you brought Buffy back?" Giles sought clarification.

She nodded. "It's been getting worse. I think. It's just that I don't always know when something has happened. It's been really noticeable the last two or three weeks. It's getting kinda scary."

"So after our argument about the foolishness of magic, what did you do?" He asked.

"I stopped completely. At least I tried." Willow nodded adamantly. She ignored the little twinge of guilt over the memory spells she'd been casting on Tara. She also failed to mention the power she could feel attempting to manifest itself constantly.

Giles replaced his glasses and sighed. "You harnessed incredibly powerful forces to bring Buffy back. Then you attempted to deny the power coursing through you?"

Willow kept her green eyes wide and innocent as she nodded. The watcher studied her for a moment. He felt a twinge of doubt creeping through his mind but decided to take her word for it. For the moment that is. Something she said had set off an alarm in the back of his mind and he needed her to leave so he could figure out what was nagging at him.

"I'll look into finding someone who can teach you how to manage the magical power you've allowed into your essence. It's part of you now and you have to learn how to keep tight control of it. Please keep a note of any more occurrences so we can make sure you don't do anything that's irreversible." He patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"Thank you, Giles." She told him as she stood up. Inwardly she was smirking. 'Rank amateur?' She thought to herself. 'We'll see. I just want to know how to tap into it whenever I want to and you're the best person I know to help me with that.'

He escorted her back out to the main part of the shop. He remained deep in thought for long moments. A feeling of restlessness swept over him.

"Anya. I have an errand to run. Will you be all right?" He said abruptly. The blond ex-demon nodded.

"I'll stay here and collect all the money from the customers." She assured him brightly.

"That's fine." He answered her absently. He collected his coat and left.

Spike's crypt….

Spike was watching Passions and sipping a beer when the knock sounded on the door. Faith had gone to her motel for a shower and a change of clothes. Grumbling silently he got up to answer it. He grimaced when he saw Giles standing there. He swept his arm back and invited the watcher in. He resumed his seat and picked up his beer, ignoring his guest.

'Bloody watcher. Last thing I want is any of the sodding Scoobies finding out I can't talk. I don't want to hear any of the crap I'd get from that wanker Harris if he finds out.' Spike glared at Giles.

"Spike. I know you can't speak. I told Clem I'd help find a way to reverse it. I need to know exactly when it happened and what you were doing at the time." The older man said.

The vampire angrily grabbed the paper and pen. 'Do THEY know?' He wrote.

Giles read the question. "They? Buffy and the others? No, they don't. Clem told me you didn't want them to know."

Spike scribbled again. 'What do you think YOU can do about it?'

"If we can pinpoint exactly when it happened and what you were doing, we can figure out what caused it and reverse it. You should have come to me sooner." Giles explained.

Spike shot him a telling look and turned back to the paper. He wrote down the same thing he'd told Clem about the night he'd lost his voice. He defiantly showed it to the watcher.

"I see. This gives me an idea of how it happened but I'm not sure." Giles removed his glasses. Spike watched him clean them with trepidation. This was not a good sign. There was an expression in the human's eyes that shot a bolt of apprehension through the vampire. Replacing his glasses, he looked Spike straight in the eyes.

"I know about you." He said quietly.

Frowning, Spike tried to figure out what Giles meant. He took another look into the other man's eyes and suddenly knew. He responded automatically, forgetting his speechless state.

'Oh, Bloody Hell.'