Chapter 19
Taste of Desire

"It's human nature, Buff. Will's getting a taste of
something powerful, way bigger than her."
-Xander, 'Smashed'

Willow molded her body against Spike's and squeezed him tightly around the waist, as the motorcycle sped through the streets of Sunnydale. She wished she could feel the wind whipping against her face, but Spike was adamant about her wearing a helmet. Still, the rush from the speed of the motorcycle was enough to exhilarate her.

They hurtled through the streets, and out of town. Spike guided the bike up a windy dirt road to the top of a bluff overlooking the city below. He eased the bike to a stop at a likely spot, and they got off, removing their helmets. The full moon was shining down on them, and Sunnydale lay peacefully below. It felt to Willow as if the night was made for the two of them alone.

Spike pulled out the blanket that he had strapped on the back of the bike, and spread it on the ground in a grassy spot. He pulled her close and kissed her with intent. Willow felt the excitement rising in her body as Spike began to lower them both down to the earth. She put her arms up behind her to catch herself, then screamed out in pain. She brought her left hand forward quickly, and saw a piece of jagged glass sticking up from the heel of the palm. Blood welled up around the gash, and Willow felt slightly faint at the sight.

"Spike, could you… Can you… It's in too deep, I can't pull it out," she said holding her hand out to him. He stared at it for a moment, then quickly turned his head away. Willow frowned at him in confusion. "Spike? What's wrong?"

Spike glanced at her briefly, and with one smooth motion pulled the glass from her hand, and quickly threw it away. He still refused to look at her, though, and his hands were clenched into fists. Willow looked at him curiously, still not certain what the problem was. She looked down at the blood welling up from the wound, and suddenly she understood. She bit her lip for a moment, thinking hard, then turned hesitantly to Spike.

"Spike? Do… Do you want some?" She asked nervously, extending her hand out toward him.

Spike turned toward her, and she could see that the demon had taken hold. She shuddered a little but still continued to offer her hand. The vampire stared at her for a long moment.

"You don't know what you're offering, princess," he rasped, unable to take his eyes off her bleeding palm.

Willow shrugged a bit. "It's not like I can put it back in," she reasoned, "and as long as you don't drain me…"

Spike continued to stare at her, shaking and shuddering, then finally seemed to make up his mind all at once. He practically dove for her hand, dropping to his knees, and he groaned with pleasure as his lips made contact with her palm. He sucked hard at the wound, drinking greedily.

Willow gasped as the pull of his mouth against her flesh caused an answering pull deep in her core. His amber eyes met hers, and as their gazes locked, Willow felt a giddy rush of excitement flow through her veins. She'd never felt so beautifully out of control before. She found herself beginning to pant, and licked lips gone suddenly dry. Spike continued to suckle at the wound, and the delightful, rhythmic suction made her moan as she imagined his mouth working elsewhere on her body. Her thighs pressed together in time to the pull of his lips. Her hand strayed of its own accord toward her zipper, but Spike got there first. He eased his hand into the tightness of her leather pants, and shoved her silken panties out of the way.

A moan escaped her lips as his cool fingers touched her and she gripped his shoulder with her free hand. They rocked together like that beneath the moonlight, him drawing her lifeblood out of her wound as he slowly stroked her to a dizzying height of ecstasy. They were both on their knees, Willow eagerly pressing her hand deeper into Spike's mouth, as his fingers slid deeper inside her. She felt laughter bubbling up from inside. She was way out of control and it felt good. Spike's tongue probed her injury, and his thumb stroked her toward bliss as his fingers drove rhythmically in and out of her wetness.

Willow threw her head back and gazed up at the moon. She'd never felt anything like this before. She felt a growing craving to feel Spike's fangs piercing her skin, to have them sink deep into her neck and truly drink from her. It was crazy, she knew, but she also knew this was the most erotic sensation she had ever experienced, and she wanted more.

"Spike," she whimpered, unable to form the words to ask for what she needed.

Spike seemed to understand though, for he lifted his head for moment to gasp, "I can't, pet. Those soldier boys saw to that." He reached his free hand up to trace the line of the veins in her neck and then let his fingers trail down across her chest.

Willow almost screamed in frustration, out of her head with desire for Spike. She let go of her grip on his shoulder, and brought her hand up to the back of his head, right over the location of the chip. She breathed heavily, not really sure what she was doing. All she knew was that want had turned to need, and she was unable to concentrate on the consequences of her actions. She summoned the magic from within her, felt it surge through her veins and send a tingling throughout her skin.

Before she could form it into a spell, though, Spike pressed down with his thumb and drove his fingers deep inside. Her world exploded into multicolored lights and giddy sensations. The aborted magic flowed crazily through her body, sending off arcs and sparks of light and energy. Her eyes darkened with magic and pleasure, as she cried aloud.

Willow fell back against the blanket, and let the rush of feeling flow through her body. Spike eased his hand out of her, and let go of her palm reluctantly. He tore a strip from his red shirt and used it to bind the wound, and then lay down beside her. He pulled her close, and curled around her.

"Would it be so bad, pet?" he whispered into her ear, "To let me sink my fangs in? To drink from you, change you? I could make you strong, and powerful, forever. We could see the world, you and me."

Still dizzy with delight, Willow let the words wash over her. In that moment, she actually considered what Spike was offering her. It would be something, to be able to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Temptation almost overwhelmed her, and she raised her hand to the back of Spike's head once more.

"It could be wonderful," Spike breathed, "Just the two of us against the world. I could give you everything you ever dreamed of, if only it weren't for this bloody chip."

She realized that he had no idea of what she had started to do, how close she had come to deactivating the chip for him. For that matter, she was fairly close to doing it now, to freeing him, freeing them both. She stroked his hair gently as she looked up into his eyes.

Spike kissed her passionately. She returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and could taste the sweet metallic tang of her blood in his mouth. Her blood…

Her hand dropped to the ground, then, and she sat up with a jolt, reality finally intruding. She couldn't believe what she had done, and worse, what she had almost done, nearly deactivating Spike's implant. She had actually wanted it, wanted to become a vampire, a killer. She was shaken by this realization, but found she couldn't quite erase the sensual memory of his lips on her palm, of the feel of him drinking from her. Confusion reigned in her head, as conflicting emotions battled for supremacy.

"What is it, princess?" Spike asked, sitting up as well, a look of concern on his face.

"Maybe we should go home," she ventured, "I think… I guess I'm feeling a little dizzy. You know, from the cut. We should get back to campus before I can't hang on to the back of your bike."

"Do you need to go to hospital?" he asked, a frown on his face.

"No, no. I'm fine. I'd just like to get a real bandage on this, maybe drink some orange juice."

Spike nodded, "That's probably a good idea. You taste so sweet, that I had a hard time holding back. Probably drank more than I should." He put his arms around her and pulled her close, nuzzling at her neck.

She leaned into the caress, feeling the desire to be bitten rising in her once more. She firmed her resolve, refusing to give in to it. "We really should go," she said, standing up.

Spike stood up as well, and gathered up the blanket. He stood there for a moment, and then, rather awkwardly, he leaned close and whispered, "Thank you."

She nodded in response, and followed him to the bike, feeling even more uncertain and conflicted. The turmoil in her brain told her that she wasn't going to get much sleep that night.

"Tresses, auburn tresses," Spike thought, then shook his head, "no, too obvious. How about… Titan locks. Better, but what rhymes with locks?"

Spike bit absently at the end of his pen as he pondered this conundrum. He was sitting propped up in bed, the covers in a rumpled disarray. Crumpled papers lay strewn across the bedspread, and the dirt floor below.

Eyes distant, the vampire began to mutter to himself, "Blocks, box, mocks, rocks… knocks? Upon my heart she knocks? That could work… But it's missing something, ah, I know…" his voice trailed off as he began to write furiously.

Spike had been at this for several hours, lost in a frenzy of composing. He had been unable to sleep since the events of the night before, the taste of Willow's blood still lingering on his tongue, making him restless, unable to settle. He still couldn't quite believe that she had offered her blood to him, but at the same time it seemed such a completely Willow thing to do, offering to share what she had without stinting. His heart squeezed as he thought of it again. If he hadn't been in love before, he was now. As proof, there were the half-dozen incomplete poems scattered around him. He, who had sworn he'd never write poetry again.

A series of loud bangs on the crypt door, followed by the slamming of metal against concrete, heralded the Slayer's arrival. He could hear her striding across the floor, then stopping to yell out, "Spike?"

"Give us a minute, pet," he shouted, and heard her moving toward the stairs. Spike got out of bed quickly, unwilling to let the Slayer catch him composing poetry. "I wouldn't come down here," he warned, "Unless you wanted to catch an eyeful." He heard her make a disgusted noise, but stop where she was. Spike slipped on his jeans, and hurried up to the main floor.

"Put a shirt on, Spike," Buffy said exasperatedly, when she got a glimpse of him.

"What? Afraid you might see something you like?" he snickered.

"As if!" she snorted with disdain, then held up a wad of cash. "Listen, I've got a job for you. You interested?"

Spike's eyebrows raised at the sight, "'Course I am. What do you need killed?"

"Not killed, just followed," she replied, "I want you to follow Willow's boyfriend. Find out who or what he is, where he lives, that sort of thing."

Spike's eyebrows raised at that. "Spying on your little girlfriend? That's hardly sporting."

"You're not spying on Willow, just this William guy she's seeing. I want to make sure he's not a Big Bad. I don't have time to do it myself, so I have to ask you."

Spike thought furiously, "You know I can't follow him in daylight, right?"

Buffy frowned a bit, but said, "I know. It's a drawback, but watching him at night will have to do. If he's a monster, he's more likely to come out at night time, right?"

Spike shrugged. "Possibly. What makes you think he's a monster at all?"

The blonde shook her head, "I'm not really sure. Instinct, I guess. Plus she's been acting kind of strange, not like herself at all. I'm pretty sure it's William's fault."

"She wouldn't be the first girl to change herself for a fellow. Doesn't mean he's some sort of beastie. Are you sure you want to piss her off this way?" Spike asked with seeming nonchalance, lighting up a smoke.

"It's for her own good," she said defensively, "Besides, I figured you'd be happy to have a chance to pry into a Scooby's life, or something."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "I just dream of having the opportunity to learn more about you and your little pals. But for the right price…"

He reached for the wad of money, but Buffy moved it quickly out of his grasp, handing him a disposable camera, instead.

"I want proof, first," she said, "you bring me pictures, you get the cash. Deal?"

Spike clenched his jaw a little, then scoffed again, "What? Don't you trust me, Slayer?"

"Never," she told him baldly, "I don't want you pretending to follow them just to get my money."

He turned the camera over and over, considering it. An idea began to form in his head, but he made one more attempt to dissuade her from meddling, anyway.

"Have you thought about what she's going to do when she finds out about this, Slayer? I wouldn't want the little witch chuffed at me, personally."

"What do you care, anyway?" Buffy demanded.

"I don't," Spike assured her, "just so long as it's you she's brassed off at, and not me. I can't defend myself, remember?"

"Whatever, Spike. Just make sure it gets done," she said dismissively, turning and leaving the crypt with a flounce.

Spike waited a moment until he was sure that she was gone. Then he went quickly downstairs, grabbed a shirt from floor, and headed for the sewer access.

Willow was, predictably, furious at Buffy when she found out. Spike found it amusing that she got so indignant, considering that she actually was dating a monster, and Buffy was right to be suspicious. But perhaps that played a role, her very guilt causing her to overreact. Whatever the cause, she agreed readily to his plan, and they set it in motion that night.

He showed up at her dorm room wearing his light blue shirt and khakis. She cast her glamour on him, and they walked out of the building together arm in arm. They strolled casually through the campus grounds and down the street to a nearby Italian bistro. Spike paused outside of a florist's, and purchased a single longstem rose for Willow, which he presented to her with a flourish.

At the restaurant, they enjoyed a leisurely dinner, with much canoodling by candlelight. To any outside observer, they were your typical romantic couple, deeply in love. After dessert, they made their way to an upscale apartment complex that Spike had scoped out. One of the gates in its security fence had been propped open with a brick, and Spike and Willow used it to stroll in as if they belonged there. They meandered over to the complex's hot tub, and took a nice long soak. Finally they made their way to the door of an apartment with a for rent sign in the window. Willow stood in front of the sign, while Spike pretended to open the door. With their charade finally complete, they quickly walked out of the complex, and into the dark night beyond.

Spike's DeSoto was parked a little way down the block. They strolled up to the driver's side window. Clem rolled it down as they approached, and handed Spike the disposable camera.

"You got it all? A full roll's worth?" Spike demanded, as he tucked the camera into his pocket.

"Of course. All the shots you asked me for. I got a nice one of the sign, too, so she knows where it is," Clem assured him, nodding his head eagerly.

"Good thinking," Spike said. Willow nudged him a bit, and he added, "Oh, and thanks."

"I got to say, Spike, you look really different in that disguise. I kinda like it."

Spike growled a bit, "Get out of here before I have to hurt you, Clem."

"Sure thing," Clem said cheerily, "I'll see you around." He put the car in gear, and drove off into the night.

"This is it?" The Slayer sounded disappointed as she flipped through the photos that Spike had handed her.

"What were you expecting, bedroom shots?" Spike joked, leaning against Buffy's desk.

"Something a little more Hellmouth-y," she informed him, ignoring his comment. "This looks like the advertisement for a dating service or something. Why didn't you follow him any further?"

"They were there all night," Spike informed her, "I had to leave before dawn, remember? I can't help it if the blighter's squeaky clean."

"Well, this is only from one night. Maybe after a few days…" Buffy began.

"Hold on a minute, Slayer. I'm not watching these two snog for days on end," protested Spike, "I did what you asked me to do, now where's my money?"

"But you didn't find anything out. We're still no closer to figuring out what he is."

"I found out where the bloke lives, the rest is up to you. And to be quite honest, if he was some kind of demon I would've smelled it on him. Now pay up!"

Buffy grudgingly dug out a handful of money and handed it over. She went back to examining the photos Spike had given her, scrutinizing them carefully, still looking for clues to William's identity.

"Not that I care, but why do you have it in for this guy, anyway?" Spike wondered, "I'd think you'd be glad to see Willow in a happy relationship, and not moping over Dog Boy or something."

"I told you, she's changing, and not for the better. Plus, I just get bad vibes off of him. The whole time we were at the Bronze I could sense something off about him, I just couldn't put my finger on it. But without proof…" She shrugged.

"Without proof, she gets to live her life without your interference. People grow up, you know, Red's no exception. You didn't expect she'd stay the same mousy bookworm forever, did you?" he pointed out.

"Why do you even care?" Buffy asked with a frown.

"As I said, I don't," he reminded her, "Quite frankly I find it amusing, watching you Scoobies fight like this. It's almost as good as my shows."

"We're not fighting. In fact, Willow's hardly around enough for any of us to even start a fight with her," Buffy grimaced.

"Well, whatever. I've got the dosh, that's all I care about." He pocketed the money, and made his way out of the dorm, whistling contentedly. Behind him, Buffy bit her lip, and continued to study the photos, as if the key to Willow's behavior could be found in them somewhere.