A/N: Okay, this is my first attempt at writing a love scene. I know it has flaws, just be nice when you review. :)

Chapter 15
A Night Together

"Details! I mean, not details. I don't need a diagram,
but, you know, like maybe a blurry watercolor."
-Willow, 'The Harsh Light of Day'

Spike knocked on the door of Willow's dorm room, and waited impatiently for an answer. Buffy apparently was spending the night out, and Willow had invited him over for some unspecified plans.

"Come in, Spike," the witch called out.

Another blind invitation? Doesn't she know better by now? He entered, fully intending to scold her for her lack of caution, when the words died on his lips.

The lights were off, leaving illumination to the dozens of candles scattered around the small room. And Willow…

Spike swallowed hard, and took another look at the young redhead, not quite believing what he saw.

Willow was standing in front of him, clad in a floor-length negligee. It appeared to be made of cream-colored satin, with a floral pattern running from one shoulder across to the opposite hip, and down to the floor. A slit ran up the other side to a point high on her thigh.

Spike was speechless. His mouth was dry, and his mind was racing. Does this mean what I think it does? And is she really ready?

He ran a hand through his hair, then let it fall. It bumped up against a small object in his coat pocket, and it was enough to draw his scattered wits together.

"I brought something for you," he managed to say, fishing the small parcel out.

"For me?" Willow asked, taking the heart-shaped box eagerly.

"Now, I'll have you know that I paid for that with my own money. Not one penny of it was stolen," Spike said defensively, before Willow could even think to ask. "That's why it's not all that good. You deserve better, pet."

"It's from you, Spike. I'm sure I'll love it," she reassured him, opening the box.

Inside lay a flat heart-shaped pendant on a thin gold chain. The word 'Princess' was engraved on it in flowing script.

"Oh Spike! It's perfect!" Willow gushed, before fishing it out and demanding, "Help me put it on!"

Spike managed to get his fingers to work enough to fasten the clasp, and he got to see just how low-cut the back of her negligee was. Then he stood back as she turned to model her new finery. He had to admit, the simple necklace suited her far better than diamonds and emeralds.

Willow gave him a big hug as a thank you. As his hands closed around her middle, he could feel the textures of her outfit. The satiny fabric was smooth and cool to the touch, and Spike felt his hands sliding past her waist, coming to rest low on her hips.

"Does that little number mean what I think it does?" he asked in a husky whisper, all concerns about timing having vanished at the feel of her in his arms.

For an answer, Willow reached up and began to take off his jacket. He let it slide to the floor, then tried to quickly toe off his boots. That didn't work very well.

Willow led him to sit on the edge of her bed, kneeling down to unlace his boots for him. Spike reached down a hand to stroke her hair, then drew her up into his lap and kissed her.

They sat kissing like that for several minutes, before moving to lay down in each other's arms. Willow managed to remove Spike's red button-down shirt as they shifted positions, and then she began to tug at his t-shirt.

"Slow down, princess," he cautioned, capturing her hands and placing a kiss on the palm of each one. "We've got all night, after all."

Spike wasn't usually one for taking his time, but he knew Willow was expecting something special, this first time together. He didn't want to disappoint.

They lay entwined together for a long time, hands slowly moving across skin and clothing, lips meeting and parting and meeting again.

Finally, Willow broke off and said, "Spike, I want to feel you," while tugging on his t-shirt once more. Obligingly, he whipped it off, and threw it across the room. Willow's warm hands eagerly began to explore, and Spike closed his eyes, the better to concentrate on the delightful caresses.

He rolled over onto his back, and pulled her atop to straddle him. The warmth of her body pressing down on his was driving him crazy. He drew her up into a kiss, then began kissing his way down her throat.

As he worked his way along her collarbone, his hands came up to cup her chest. She moaned and writhed at the touch, setting off a mirror reaction in Spike.

Finally, he thought to himself, as his mouth worked greedily lower, Finally, all the plotting and scheming pays off. Truthfully, he'd come such a long way from his first 'love her and dump her' plan. Now he tried to concentrate on his new goal, his image of her as a vampire, but he couldn't focus. The warmth of her skin, her low, husky breathing, and the rapid dance of her pulse all distracted him.

He pushed the straps of her negligee down her shoulders and let them fall, before sliding the fabric down to her waist. The smooth expanse of creamy skin was a delight to his eyes. He rolled them both over, hands and mouth working to trace the curves of her body.

On and on it went throughout the night, the two lovers eagerly exploring the depths of their passion. Finally, they cried out in mutual bliss, and collapsed, breathless, into each other's arms.

Spike looked down into Willow's big, green eyes, and brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

"Are you alright, princess?" he asked gently.

"Alright? Spike, that was amazing," she countered, reaching up a hand to caress his face.

"It was," he agreed, finding himself at a loss for words. He looked down at her beautiful body, clad in nothing but his necklace, and felt a strange sensation in the region of his heart. He pushed the feeling away, not wanting to complicate things further.

Spike held Willow in his arms until her even breathing told him that she had drifted off. He lay there for a few hours longer, just watching her sleep. The approach of dawn brought an end to his contemplations, though, and he slid cautiously out of the young woman's bed.

He got dressed quickly before seating himself at Willow's desk. He needed something to substitute for not being there in the morning. He dug deep into his memory, searching for something appropriate, something romantic, something 'William' would say. He took up a pen, and by the guttering light of the candles, he began to write.

The sound of a door closing woke Willow the next morning. She looked up to see her roommate trying and failing to sneak into the room. Willow sat up, only to realize that she wasn't wearing anything. She quickly clutched her bed sheets around her.

Buffy took in her friend's state of undress, combined with the candles around the room and guessed, "William?"

Willow blushed and nodded.

Buffy shook her head in slight disapproval.

"I see he didn't stick around," she noted with a frown.

"He had somewhere he had to be, early," Willow countered, with a small frown of her own. It would have been pleasant to wake in Spike's arms.

"Was it nice?" Buffy asked, curiosity causing her to relent somewhat.

"Oh, Buffy, it was wonderful! He was so gentle and considerate. We had a really nice time."

In truth, Willow had always fantasized that making love to a vampire, to Spike, would be a bit, well, rougher. But she assumed that the chip must be holding him back. There was probably no greater mood killer than an electric shock to the cranium, she imagined.

"I could still wish that he'd stuck around for you, Will," Buffy groused, sitting down on her own bed.

"I know, it would have been great," Willow conceded, hunting around for something near her bed that she could wear. "But when you have to be somewhere, you have to be there."

Something red lying on the floor caught her eye. It was Spike's shirt. Gratefully, she pulled it on and buttoned it. It still smelled like him, she discovered, smiling.

"Is that William's?" Buffy guessed, "He must have left in a real hurry to forget that."

"He had another shirt," Willow defended reflexively, "He didn't leave in a rush!"

But her friend's skepticism was getting to her. How did she know how quickly Spike had left, after all? Maybe he did rush out. Maybe he hadn't wanted to stick around. Maybe she'd been wrong about him.

Willow flopped back on her bed, the doubts and insecurities piling up around her. The motion dislodged an envelope sitting on her nightstand, sending it fluttering to the floor. She sat up eagerly, and retrieved it. Sure enough, her name was written across it in neat handwriting. She opened it and removed the letter within.

'Princess,' read the sloping, old fashioned script, 'As I write this, you lie dreaming, and I am loathe to disturb you. We both know that I must leave you this morning, but I find I am unable to tear myself away.

'The sun will rise in a few short hours, and I find myself jealous of it, for its rays will caress your skin when I cannot. I am jealous of the sheets that wrap you, for they hold you close, when I cannot. I am even jealous of the air you breathe, for it becomes a part of you, and I cannot.

'I ache to have you in my arms again. Do not leave me in such a torment for long, princess. You bring the sun into my darkened life, and I would embrace that effulgent brightness, even if it scorches me.

'I know you will want to show this to your roommate, so I will say no more, and simply sign this: Your devoted servant, William.'

Willow looked up, misty-eyed. Her faith in Spike was restored, and then some. His beautiful prose had banished any doubts concerning his feelings for her. And how well Spike knew her, to know that she'd want to share such a letter with Buffy!

"What? What does it say?" the blonde demanded, curious. Willow handed over the letter and watched eagerly as her friend read it through.

"Effulgent?" Buffy asked quizzically.

"It means glowing or gleaming," Willow explained, "But isn't he romantic?"

"I'm glad you know what it means. And yes, this is certainly a romantic letter. 'Your devoted servant', though? That's a little weird."

"He spends a lot of time reading 18th Century literature. It kind of rubs off on him," Willow invented, sticking with her false back story for Spike.

"He doesn't talk like that, I hope," Buffy said.

"No, he doesn't. Be happy for me, please?" Willow begged.

"Well, it's a little over the top, this letter. It worries me a bit. You could be getting into things too fast…"

"I told you, he likes big gestures. I can read between the lines of what he's actually saying," Willow told her roommate.

"And we still haven't met this guy at all," Buffy continued, "When is that going to happen?"

"Soon, soon," Willow stalled, not having the faintest idea how she would pull it off. She could cast a glamour on Spike, but what about his voice? Could they come up with a disguise that would fool all the Scoobies in a close meeting?

"What about this Friday?" Buffy persisted, "We're all meeting at the Bronze. You could bring him along then."

"Maybe," Willow hedged, not wanting to promise anything.

"Maybe? Come on, Will. You've been holding out on us for a while now. And if you and William are getting serious, I think we should meet him."

Willow caved. "Okay, fine, I'll bring him on Friday." She just hoped that Spike didn't kill her when he found out. Or yell at her, at least.

She got up and began to dress. It was likely that Spike would, in fact, yell at her about it, but she decided to go visit him anyway. What else could she do after a letter like that one? She had a full slate of classes, but figured she could get out of them with a little magic. Besides, she already missed the bleached blond vampire. She was looking forward to a day spent in his arms. He might grumble about their new plans for Friday, but Willow was fairly confident that she could distract him. She'd just need to be a bit… persuasive, that's all. She smiled at the thought.