Title: Time Stitches You (22/?)
Author: sinecure
Characters/Pairing: Spike/Willow
Rating: Adult (M)
Genre: Romance, drama, angst, adventure, horror
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Author's Notes: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I had to do a lot of rewriting. Probably on the next one as well, so, it may be late too. (still no beta, sorry, all mistakes are mine)
Spike came awake quickly; asleep and then awake, with nothing in between. Even with all the whiskey he'd had last night he was as sober as a teetotaler on Sunday; vampires didn't get hangovers. The room around him was quiet. Still. But... something itched along his spine, setting his senses reeling.
He was being watched.
Snapping his eyes open, he came face to face with Willow. She was laying on her side with her back against the wall behind her, facing him, eyes wide, as if she'd been caught dumping a body.
Her mouth twisted guiltily.
"Morning!"
That wasn't quite what he'd expected.
"Okay, that came out weird. What I should've said was 'you do know that I didn't mean any of the things I said last night, right'?" She shook her head a little, considering her words. "Well, none of the bad things. Anything nice I said? Totally meant it." She smiled brightly, with too many teeth.
Was this how it was going to be now? Awkward and uncomfortable?
So much had happened between them in the past couple of days that, of course it was going to be messy, but this wasn't acceptable. Not with Willow.
Ignoring the awkwardness as much as he could, he smirked and rubbed his hands over his face with a sigh. "The old adage about flattery is still true, love. Don't think you can weasel." Maybe if he acted normal and she acted normal, then normalcy would prevail.
"No. No weaseling," she agreed, snuggling under the covers with a small smile. "I'd never dream of weaseling." She continued to watch him, smile fading, replaced by her serious face, the one he knew meant she'd been over-thinking things. "I really am sorry, Spike. I don't know what happened exactly to make uber-bitch Willow come out to play. Something just..." she shrugged, lifting an arm out of the covers to snap sharply, "came over me like that, and I felt so angry and paranoid and- and angry."
"Wasn't your fault."
She didn't hear him. Her teeth worried her lower lip, frown returning faster than he could keep up. "Was it something in me, do you think? Something evil? Am I turning evil?"
A scoff left him at the thought of Willow turning evil. There was just too damn much goodness in her for anything less than her being turned into a vampire make her go evil. "I don't think so."
Reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her cheek, he smoothed away the strands with a frown of his own. She looked so young and innocent, like she had the first nights they'd spent in Galway. He didn't like seeing her that way again. She'd come so far since then. Been through so much. She deserved to wear the pain for everyone to see, not hide it away as if she hadn't suffered it.
"But I could be," she insisted.
"Told you it wasn't your fault. The well ran dry and there was a warlock nearby to help you along; you siphoned off his magick, sucked it into yourself and it overwhelmed you." He curled his fingers into a fist and pulled his hand back, feeling like he'd lost the right to touch her sometime over the past few days. "I've seen it happen before and it has nothing to do with evil being inside you."
"And, yet, I still feel like it does. I don't like dealing with things the way I did. Do. Have been since arriving in London. I don't like who I'm becoming," she finished softly, then seemed to remember he was there. She rubbed her head with a sigh and he got the feeling she was avoiding him more than trying to relieve any pain she might have. "Wish they'd hurry up and invent Tylenol."
It was rare that she referred to the time she'd been alone. Rarer still when she indulged in self-pity over it, she usually just clammed up.
His traitorous hand twitched, wanting to soothe her brow, wanting to take away the pain even though it satisfied him to see it, to see some evidence that she hadn't just swept it all under the rug completely.
She was a lot like Dru in some ways, and her trauma over what'd happened to her didn't sit well with him. She acted as if it hadn't happened. Pretended it wasn't a part of her. That she was past it.
But was she? Dru'd suffered worse, admittedly, but humans were fragile creatures.
Clenching his hand tighter, he dug it into the mattress as he pushed into a sitting position, resting against the wall behind him. He'd have to pry it out of her soon if she wouldn't just tell him.
The covers fell down to his stomach as he shifted and stretched and he saw Willow's eyes fall with the blankets, then snap away again as if she were ashamed or felt guilty.
Was she? Was that why she'd reacted as she had during sex?
When she rubbed her head again, he frowned. "Head hurt?"
"Just a little, like about the size of Big Ben."
Nodding, he glanced at the bedside table, hoping to find his cigarettes. They weren't there. "That's probably my fault. Did a spell to fix you up." Getting out of bed, thankful that he'd remembered to keep his trousers on, he crossed the cold, wooden floor to his frock coat and dug out his cigarettes. "Just to kick out the magick that didn't belong to you, is all."
"A spell?" Her interest perked up as she sat up, resting her hands on the blankets on her lap. But then it drifted away again like a boat on rough seas. She turned her head his way. "Wow. After everything I said and did-to your leg and to Dru-you still helped me? I- thank you." She bit her lip, eyes darting to his. "That was last night, wasn't it?"
"Started out in 1860 and ended in 1880," he agreed. "Hell of a time lag." The room was dark without any windows in it. A strip of light lit the room a bit from the gap under the door and around the sides and top. He could see just fine, of course, but Willow probably couldn't. After digging out a match from the matchbox on the tiny shelf by the door, he lit his cigarette, then the sconce, sending dim, yellow through part of the room.
The sigh that slipped past her lips was long and drawn out. "So much has happened lately that it feels weird to just be still again, you know?" She lifted her head, staring around the room. "In a strange and unknown place, apparently. How odd is it that that's becoming normal to me?"
"Not odd at all. We're victims of our circumstances."
She sucked her teeth a little and shrugged minutely. "So, where are we? And when does the fun begin?"
Flicking ashes to the floor, he leaned back against the wall. "The White Horse Inn. Used to pass by this place a lot when I was human. Figured it'd be as good a lodging as any other for the time we're here, which should be just a few weeks if I remember right."
"No creepy landlady?" She grinned and drew her legs up under the covers, resting her chin on her knees as smoke billowed lazily around the room between them. "'Cause that right there is all the recommendation I need."
A chuckle left him. That was about all the recommendation he needed as well. Mrs. Pressman would not be missed. Old bat was probably dead by now. He could only hope.
"Do Angelus or the others know about this place? Should we be worried?"
That'd been a consideration last night, when choosing this place. He'd never been here with them, and they'd never made mention of it. Of course, while he was being turned, they could've spent days here, munching on the local populace for all he knew. "I don't think so. And I don't think Mrs. Mitchell would have it. She'd probably protest about tomfoolery in her inn or something and chase them out with a rifle."
"Ooo, definitely my kind of place and my kind of innkeeper." Willow yawned and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, she was looking straight at him, unblinking.
She looked weary. As if this trip through time was taking its toll. The past couple of years had, he knew, they'd taken more from her than they'd had a right to, and he blamed the Time Stablizer for that. For everything she'd endured.
But he blamed himself as well, for not being there. For not helping her.
There was something dark and empty in her eyes, something that didn't jibe with the usually perky Willow. He didn't like it.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered in a small, almost pleading voice.
He drew in a breath, wondering if she'd had another visit from the T.S.. He frowned and opened his mouth to tell her that she wouldn't, but she shook her head, stopping him.
"You're my friend, Spike. Sort of my best one at the moment, and, well, my only one, too, but that doesn't matter. What I mean is that I need you. To be okay with me. With us. With- with-"
"Willow."
She stopped the flood of words and emotions and exhaled heavily, resting her chin on her knees, staring straight ahead.
He felt himself begin to melt by degrees, giving in to those feelings and urges that wanted him to wrap her in his arms and take care of her like he had with Dru. "Why would you- did the Time guy haunt your dreams again? Did he tell you something he didn't bother letting me know? Kind of rude of him. Think he likes you better than me."
His half-attempt at humor didn't register to her.
"No. Nothing like that. But when we were separated before, I did some things-bad things-and I never want to be in that position again. And if you're not here... I'm afraid I will."
Too many times Willow had mentioned the things she'd done, all without telling him what it was that she'd done that was so horrible. If she'd killed the bastard that raped her, then good on her. He'd have a bloody party for her if he didn't think she'd get upset.
But she would. He knew she would, because something about whatever it was she'd done, scared her.
"You did what you had to, love."
"You don't know that," she whispered, closing her eyes. The guilt and pain in her voice was deep, making him itch to take it all away somehow, while at the same time, wanting her to own it. To put it out there and proudly display what she'd done to survive. To wear what she'd done to that bastard like a metal of honor.
"Pretty sure I do." Didn't matter to him whether she'd tortured the vampire or slipped a stake in his back, ending his rotten life. Didn't matter to Spike one whit. But she was finally talking about it, more than she ever had before, and he saw that as a good sign. "Want to talk about it? Get it out there and move past it? Like all the specials said?"
Once again, his attempt at humor went unnoticed.
She shook her head, fingers playing with the blankets in her lap. "I want to stop being afraid."
Smoke cleared in front of him as he spoke, but the room was getting dimmer because of it. He opened the door a crack and leaned against the wall, legs crossed in front of him as the smoke quickly escaped into the hall. "What of?"
A shrug lifted her shoulders, a sullen look crossing her features. "That I'll lose you." She sighed heavily. "Or me. Or us. Or- I'm afraid of Angelus, and Darla, and Dru, and even you a little bit. I'm terrified of warehouses and the night and what goes bump in it. I'm afraid of myself and the person I'm becoming. I set vampires on fire with just a thought and ended up hurting you in the process." She drew in a deep breath, clutching the blankets tighter around her, creating an envelope around her as if she were trying to wrap herself up into nothing. "What if I hurt you again, Spike? What if I kill you next time?"
Startled by the tide of confessions, he dropped his cigarette to the floor and stepped on it. Two steps later he was on the bed, facing her, reaching over to rub her temple with gentle fingers, to rub that damn worry away. "I've told you to knock that off; you're letting your big brain pan get in the way again." He threaded his hand into her hair for a brief moment, turning her to face him before sliding it down to cup her cheek. "Be afraid of the vampires, or of what's out there, hell, be afraid of me if you need to be. But don't be afraid of yourself. You're no more going evil than I'm turning into Glenda the Good Witch."
She stared at him for a second and then her lips twitched. Fighting a smile, she gazed at him with her big eyes, looking better than she had since he'd woken up. "Don't make me think about you in a frilly dress. Please. I don't think I can take it."
He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. "Just you remember, I'm plenty evil. Dastardly so." The curve of her lips as she smiled made his want to match them. He let go and smiled back, shoving his hands through his hair. It was too long these days. Too similar to the other him. "I'd kill you in a heartbeat. You know that, don't you?"
Lips still twitching, she nodded, taking his hand in hers briefly before letting it go. "You probably would."
"I definitely would. Soon as we get back to the future-shut it, McFly-I plan on having me a nice big Willow-lunch. Some good, down home eatin'." He winced at his horrible Southern accent and watched her. He liked watching her; she was always interesting. She didn't disappoint, but she did surprise him.
She squirmed on the bed, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. Thinking of a different kind of snacking she'd like him to do, perhaps?
Leaning down, eyes on the wall beside her, her settled his lips near her ear, feeling her shiver and hearing her soft exhale. Her fists clenched the sheets beneath her. Definitely had naughty thoughts on her mind. "You have a filthy mind, Willow." Making sure his lips brushed her skin, he whispered, "I approve."
A sigh left her with a shudder and she released the sheets to push him back to his side of the bed. "Ugh, is that all you ever think about?"
"Hey, I'm not the one fantasizing about all the ways you could be corrupted by me." He lifted a brow and shrugged. "Well, actually, yes, I am, but so were you. In fact, I'm thinking of making a pit stop during that visit you told me about, the night the vampire-you came to town. Think I might wanna take a gander at her."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't think so. We're not traipsing through time so that you can satisfy your curiosity about Willow-in-leather. You don't see me chasing after human-you, do you? Though, did I mention that he's kind of hot in a Victorian sort of way?"
"You did not." His smirk rose higher, and he felt a satisfaction that bordered on relief. He'd been afraid she'd find him a pansy, a pathetic waste of space, but apparently, she didn't. And that pleased him.
On impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth. Not a little peck, like he'd half-intended. His lips moved with purpose at first and then slowed down, pressing gently, exploring with a slow laziness that made him think of long sessions of foreplay and teasing.
He liked foreplay and teasing.
Her fingers clenched on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh; he was sure he heard a pleased moan in the back of her throat.
Keeping himself still, not grabbing her to him like he wanted, he waited it out, letting her make up her mind. She held off on kissing him back. Mostly. Maybe she kissed him back a little. He smiled against her lips. He couldn't help it; he liked that she was giving in.
He wanted her all the time now. But it wasn't just desire. He cared about her, too. But right now wasn't the time to push her.
It was really hard to resist taking it further, even though he knew he had to. Resist.
But his head and body didn't want to put a stop to it.
With a warning sound in his head, he hauled her to him and settled her on his lap. She was going to stop him, he was sure of it. Any time now.
Any second.
But she didn't.
Her lips slowly began to respond, as if she were just waking up. Teeth nipping at her lower lip, nibbling on it as she scooted closer, landing on him just right, he pulled back, releasing it with a final lick to soothe the flesh. She didn't jump out of his lap or sit back and slap him.
She didn't freeze and tell him to let her go.
That one rather surprised him.
Instead, she grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him to her, kissing him hard and fast, no softness in her. She wanted him. Her hips began to rock forward, bringing an answering roll from his. He wasn't sure when he began to harden, just that he was aware of a pleasant, rising desire from the pressure of her warm body.
Then, suddenly, she sat back, dragging her thumb across her lips. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't- we shouldn't. Spike, this isn't good at all. I want you, but- crap. I want you, okay? There. I said it, I do. But I'm not supposed to. In fact, I'm trying not to." She frowned, looking away from him. "But it's there. It's always there and we need to not do this."
"Mm," he agreed absently, watching her lips move, wishing they were still on his. Then her words registered. "Wait a minute, why aren't you supposed to want me? Is this because of your girl-"
"No. God, Spike, it has nothing to do with Tara." She sighed heavily, looking down at him with a mixture of want and resolve as her hands moved restlessly on his chest. "I just don't..." Another sigh and he could see her let go, letting it all go, all of it, whatever she'd been holding back from him. All her reasons for not sleeping with him. For not enjoying, for turning from him when they'd slept together. "It'll end badly. Relationships always do."
Staring at her, he waited for more.
And waited.
She blinked back at him, also waiting.
That was it? That was her reasoning, hanging out there between them like a bare arse in the wind?
He exploded, anger rising in him, though he tried to push it down. "Well, so bloody what?" Stilling her hands with his own as she tried to pull them away, he concentrated on the warm flesh under his palms as he slid them up her arms. Concentrated on how good she felt in his lap, concentrated on anything rather than his anger.
He couldn't believe her reasoning. Relationships ended badly. That was sort of a given. In all his years on Earth, he'd observed a few constants; humans died, demons betrayed you, and relationships ended badly.
Drawing her down for another kiss instead of railing at her, he focused all of his attention on her. She didn't resist him still. Even after her words to the contrary.
And he was surprised at that.
Pulling back again, just an inch, resting his forehead on hers, he threaded his hands into her hair, long and soft and warm. "You're probably right. It probably will end badly. But I don't care. Long term is..." he shrugged, sliding a hand behind her neck and touching his lips to hers, "long term's in the future. Something I don't care to think about right now. Worry about it when we get there."
Her eyes closed as if in surrender and she let him kiss her lightly, but then she pulled back, snapping her eyes open.
Thinking. Always thinking.
"I don't want to think about it, but I do." Her hands lifted his from her shoulders, threading her fingers through his. Palm to palm, flesh to flesh. Warmth to coolness. "I think about it all the time. We have to be together a lot; to do the spell, to make sure things go right, to..." she sat back up, fluttering her hands in front of her in that way she had, "for everything. What if we break up? Not- not that we're a couple. At all. Or that you're a couple kinda vampire, being as you are a vampire," she said quickly, tilting her head to the side when he snickered at her. "I just mean we can't be in a sex kinda thing, because we're bound to-"
"To what? Enjoy ourselves?" He raised an eyebrow at her, watching her face as he unlaced their hands and slid his own up her thighs, pushing up the thin material of his old t-shirt as he went.
It was thinning and stretched out from her constantly putting her knees inside it, but it was still bloody sexy on her because it was his. That's the reason he'd put her in it last night. And to make her more comfortable.
"I want you, Willow. Not gonna make any bones about that." He rocked his hips, letting her feel the obvious evidence that she was sitting atop of. "Sleeping next to you is hard, you know that? It makes me hard." He grabbed her hips, intending to move her back, to put some space between them so that they could talk without him wanting to shag her into the mattress, but then he grabbed one of her hands, instead, and pressed it to his cock. "Feel that?"
Her throat worked convulsively as she nodded, hand tightening around him for too brief a time. Eyes widening at what her fingers were doing, she let go quickly, trying to shift away from his erection, but he wouldn't let her. "Yes. Yes, I feel it, but we can't-"
"We can. Sharing this with the woman I want, and then being told that it's the last time because you're afraid it's the last time isn't on my list of best ways to start my day." Sighing in frustration, he dropped his head back against the wall, needing to release her, to stop looking into her dilated, lust-filled eyes, or else he'd end up scaring her. "You need to go."
She blinked at him.
It wasn't fear on her face, just bewilderment. He hadn't meant for his words to sound so harsh.
"Every minute I'm lying beside you, I'm thinking about touching you, about being inside you." Another frustrated groan escaped him at the memories and his overactive imagination and he dropped his hands to the bed, closing his eyes. "I can't Inot/I want you."
"Well, try," she said anxiously.
He let out a sharp bark of laughter. "How about you try to enjoy yourself for once?" He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her back into his embrace as he lifted and lowered his hips. "How about you let life happen to you?"
She shoved at him, shaking her head in exasperation. "Sleeping with you is not letting life happen. It's sex, plain and simple."
"It's enjoying what you have," he countered, hearing the small gasp she tried to hide from him. "It's not bothering to worry about the next day, the next month, or the next year." Scooting back against the wall, taking her with him, he settled his eyes hotly on hers, hiding the anger and frustration he felt for letting himself get roped into this confrontation right now. "What, do you wanna talk about feelings, Willow, is that what you want? For me to admit that I feel something for you?"
A small frown lowered her brows as she shook her head. "No. I don't want that at all. That would probably make things worse. I just-" She sighed, trying to climb off his lap, but he held her tighter. "I care about you, Spike-a lot-and I think maybe you care about me-a little-but it's bound to be-"
"Fun?" he challenged, sliding his hands under the hem of his black t-shirt to caress her white thighs. "We're going to be here a while, love, it's another few weeks before I run into the triplets, and all that free time needs to be filled with something."
She slapped at his hands, shoving the material back down, but his hands only moved higher. "I'm not going to be a distraction for you. God, will you stop that?" She yelped in surprise when his fingers lightly caressed her folds, finding her muscles clenching, and he wasn't even inside her yet.
Ah.
Smiling, surprised at how ready she was and her response to his touch, he shook his head silently, feeling a small victory. He watched her face, mostly her eyes, as he spread her legs farther apart, making sure his thumbs stayed close enough to continue touching her.
This time-period definitely had some advantages, namely the lack of undergarments.
Her legs tried to close-an impossible task with her straddling him-and, failing that, she tried to squirm away from his fingers. A small, desperate exhale left her lips, ghosting over his. Bloody hell, did he want her. He was so hard now, and throbbing. The friction from her wriggling was only making it worse. Only made him more determined to have her.
But then she spoke again, dashing cold water on his hopes and dreams.
"Please let me go."
It wasn't fear or nervousness in her voice; she didn't seem to be afraid. That wasn't what caught his attention. It was the desperation that laced her tone.
As he closed his eyes to bring himself back under control, he began to slide his fingers free.
He felt her clench on him, felt her hips buck toward him. Saw her eyes widen as her body continued to respond to his fingers. He halted the movement, sliding them back inside. Moisture flooded her already damp folds.
Her nails clutched his arms and she lifted her hips away from him...
...and then back down again with a soft gasp, slipping his fingers deeper.
"You- you need to stop now." She gasped harder, eyes sliding shut when he moved his fingers slowly in and out of her clenching, overly-heated flesh.
More moisture flooded his fingers and his nostrils flared. Focusing on the way her lips parted breathlessly, the feel of her muscles clenching around him, he pulled his fingers free, then slid three in, rubbing her clit slowly as she rocked forward. "Still want me to stop?" he asked, begging her with his eyes and hand and voice not to say yes.
Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a hungry, deeply satisfying kiss, drawing back again and again.
She shook her head frantically in the negative. "Yes."
Wanting to throw something, he pulled back, licking his lips.
She clenched again, thrusting her hips down on his hand. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, giving her the leverage to move against his questing fingers as her lips covered his mouth. "You need to stop," she whimpered against his lips. "We- I can't do this."
As suddenly as that, she threw herself from him, jumping off the bed, pulling the shirt desperately down her thighs. On the other side of the room, she stood with one bare foot over the other, looking back at the bed with wide eyes. Hungry eyes. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to jump back in bed with him.
His eyes slid over her legs, bare to the black material of his shirt.
Looking so fuckable, he had to stop himself from stalking her and taking her right there, against the wall.
Would she like that position?
With slow movements, he lifted his hand to his mouth, sliding his fingers between his lips, swallowing convulsively as he tasted her for the first time. God, he'd never be able to get that taste out of his mind. Never not want it. "You can, Willow. You can fuck whoever you want." His eyes slid shut for a second while he savored the taste of her. A moan threatened to escape him, but he managed to hold it in as he forced his eyes open.
It wouldn't do to give her too much ammunition.
Swallowing just as thickly as him, as if she were enjoying the taste too, she turned her back to him. "You're in love with Drusilla," she ground out. She shook her head as if she just couldn't believe he'd sink so low as to try to seduce her. "And me, I'm-"
He looked up angrily, wanting to pace over to her, to touch her; his hands were itching to feel her skin beneath his fingertips again, to taste her on his lips, to use his lips and tongue to taste her. "If you say you're still in love with Tara, I'm gonna have to call you on that."
Her defensive posture dropped a little, but the fierce look in her eyes remained. She tipped her chin up, staring across the distance at him. "I'm afraid, is what I was going to say."
He reached down, grabbing his shirt from the floor to avoid looking at her, because he knew he'd feel guilt, for no reason at all. Sliding one arm in and then the other, he stood, yanking the material closed, staring down in disgust at the stained clothing he'd worn last night. Stripping it back off again, he threw it in the corner and looked around for the valise with his other clothes in them.
"Afraid of something that might not even happen." He grabbed another cigarette from his coat.
"Yes," she confessed, opening the wardrobe and pulling his clean clothes from inside where he'd hung them the night before. Oh, right. She tossed them at him, grabbed one of her dresses, and then flicked her hand at his cigarette. It lit perfectly well, without flaring up like the night before. Must be healed then. "I don't want to lose you as a friend. And that's what always happens. Always."
"Getting awfully good at that, aren't you?" he mumbled around the cigarette, slipping into the fresh breeches. Fire and vampires didn't go well together, since they tended to burn quickly when lit. He hoped she didn't lose control of that particular little power of hers. "Watch out for the flammables, yeah?"
He sincerely wished, as he buttoned the side flap on his clean breeches, that she hadn't given in even an inch. He could do without the throbbing ache in his cock.
Back going ramrod straight at his warning, she looked at his cigarette. "Thought you weren't afraid of me going evil?"
"I'm not, but, well, accidents do happen, don't they?" He grabbed a handful of his pants, trying to rearrange them into a more comfortable position. It was a fruitless effort. Dropping to the bed again, he left the cigarette dangling from his lips as he slid his arms into the clean shirt. He wasn't afraid of her or what she might have inside her. He doubted there was anything evil deep down in her, but she wasn't paying particular attention just now. And accidents... well.
He'd also seen the fury and the full on magick she'd aimed Dru and Angelus' way.
Her skirts swished around her ankles as she paced slowly away, buttoning the little mother of pearl buttons that ran up the front. Her red hair flowed halfway down her back, swaying back and forth with each step she took, the shining strands contrasting nicely with the antique white gown. The sleeves, ending in wide lace that hung down over her hands, got in her way as she buttoned up the row of tiny round buttons.
The dress was one he'd always liked on her. It was tight-fitting and shapely, accentuating her small waist and curvy hips, flowing straight down to the floor, brushing the tops of her bare feet.
"Weeks," she mused, apparently dropping the evil thing. And interrupting his ogling as she spun toward him suddenly, an aggravated look on her face. "Are you sure?" She sighed when he nodded and paced back over to the bed to drop on it. "Well, this should be fun." She propped her elbows on her thighs and rested her head in her hands.
"Could be," he agreed, sitting back against the wall with his eyes still on her.
She didn't even bother rebuking or chastising him. Her eyes stared straight ahead, mouth turned down in a frown. "The magick thing that went haywire last night... it's gone completely, right? I mean, I'm not going to suddenly turn bitch-Willow on you again, am I?"
"It's gone."
"Thank you," she said sincerely before standing up, searching through the wardrobe for something. She pulled out the valise, digging through it until she found her reticule and turned it upside down with a sigh.
It was empty.
She occasionally carried money in the tiny, little purse, but more often, she slipped a stake inside. A bottle of holy water. A couple of chains with crosses on them.
"Going somewhere?" He sat back on the bed, relaxing and trying for unconcerned when all he wanted to do was shout at her. To make her give in. But now wasn't the time. He'd already decided that once today. He just needed to stick to that decision.
"I want to look around. If we're going to be here for a few weeks, I want to get to know the place."
"We're not too far from where we were in 1860. Just a couple of miles off from the boarding house."
She exhaled heavily, hands on her hips. "You mean I could've gotten a gander at baby-you? Damn. I always miss the fun stuff. It's always blood and pain and tears for me."
So, she was pretending as well. They'd pretend and pretend until they just couldn't do so anymore and then life would get interesting.
A thought occurred to him, but he couldn't say anything, not to Willow. Joe's pub was nearby, and possibly still dangerous. But he couldn't warn her away without giving them away. And he found that he still couldn't hurt her like that. He'd have to check it out himself.
The moment Willow knew, was the moment she'd head over there to destroy the place. And, most likely, get herself killed, and he couldn't let that happen. "Wait until night and I can go with you."
She barely glanced his way. "I'll be fine. It's safer in the daylight. Besides, I'm a big girl."
Though right, it still made him nervous. Aside from Joe's Pub problems, a lot of demons could get around in the daytime. But he couldn't babysit her 24/7. "Oh, stay away from the warehouses across the way." He knew for a fact that a rather nasty vampire lived in one of them. He'd roomed with him for a few weeks when he first arrived without Willow.
"Really not a problem." Turning with the reticule, she twisted her mouth up, looking just this side of wrong.