A Sledgehammer, Raspberries and a French Whore
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Willow was jerked awake by a loud bang accompanied by the
sound of plaster and stone shattering and falling to the floor. She groaned and
rolled onto her stomach, her hand reaching across the empty bed and she
realized that Spike was doing it again, knocking out a wall somewhere in the
mansion. It was nearing sunset and Willow had spent the night and day, yet
again. But this time she was planning on spending the whole weekend, having
told Buffy she was going to her parents house for the weekend to air it out
before their eminent return in a few days...which would also explain her
absence from the dorm for a while should she decide to stay with Spike at the
mansion. She really didn't know if she wanted to. He’d scared her that night,
four days back, and his behavior had been directly involved with the mansion.
However, he'd seemed to settle down after that, if you could call wandering
around with a sledgehammer and knocking out walls willy nilly settling down.
Still, he was more at ease with himself, with the mansion and happily devoted
to her.
The sound of another wall being demolished downstairs drew Willow's attention.
Sighing, she reluctantly pushed herself off the bed, grabbed one of Spike's
t-shirts to put on and made her way out of the bedroom. Stopping halfway down
the stairs, she sat down and smiled as she watched Spike strike out at the
wall, sending plaster and brick flying through the air, a determined look on
his face. Willow wrapped her arms about her naked legs, her chin resting on her
knees as she continued to watch him.
The sledgehammer swung out, colliding with the wall,
shattering it. The muscles in his chest flexed and rippled as he pulled back to
swing forward and as the hammer collided with the wall again the muscles in his
back bunched under the fine layer of dust that covered him. A single lock of hair curled forward onto
his forehead and his jaw clenched with every blow he made. Willow sighed, now
she understood why Anya enjoyed watching Xander dig so much. Unfortunately the
sigh distracted Spike and he glanced up at her, smiling broadly.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, throwing the sledgehammer aside.
"No, it was the wall shattering into pieces that woke me," she said,
laughing lightly and stretching her hands out as he walked up the stairs
towards her. Sitting down in front of her, he squirmed his way between her legs
and wrapped his arms about them.
Leaning back against her, he told her the grand plans he had for the
mansion, knocking down walls, opening up the front part of the house so it was
a huge room. Willow wrapped one of her arms about his neck, her free hand
combed through his hair while she listened with no particular interest to his
redecorating ideas.
Spike had started his demolition derby on the mansion the morning after he'd
found Willow sleeping in the bed. After he’d walked her back to the dorm early
in the morning, he'd gone to Giles to collect the Desoto and a sledgehammer.
The first room to be changed was the master bedroom. He'd knocked out the two
walls leading into the rooms on either side of the master room, opening it up.
Through either intelligence or sheer luck he hadn't taken out any of the
support beams or wiring. By the afternoon, when Willow had returned, he'd
totally changed the room and reorganized the furniture. A study retreat area
was set up off one side of the bedroom ~ he'd called it Willow's study, so he
could watch her while she did her work ~ and the other room had been changed
into a sitting room.
When the sun had set, they’d gone out together to buy
various bits and pieces and Spike insisted on a state of the art entertainment
system. The night before, in a fit of rage, he had taken out some demon with a
gold AMEX card and he’d celebrated with a massive shopping spree, which
included getting the electricity connected, buying furniture and organizing for
the various broken windows to be fixed and a new front door. Then, of course,
there had also been the bed linen. He'd forgotten how cold it could be in the
mansion at night, especially for Willow sleeping next to him, so they had
bought quilts and sheets, new pillows and an extravagant lambs wool underlay.
Anything and everything that took their fancy they bought. There’s nothing like
retail therapy to soothe even the most savage beasts...especially when it
includes a Play Station.
Spike finished up his explanations of what he and the sledgehammer were
planning with a soft kiss on Willow's hand.
"Hmm..." Willow agreed offhandedly, her fingers dragging through the
light film of dust on his skin. "I should get going soon."
"Why?" Spike twisted around to look up at her, frowning. "It's
Saturday afternoon, where do you have to go?"
"I told you, Giles needs some help researching those demons Buffy saw on
Thursday night," she smiled down at him, her fingers trying to erase the
scold lines on his face. "I told Giles I'd be there by seven..."
"Love, why? They don't need you..." he turned away and leaned back
against her, his fingers drawing circles on the bare skin of her legs. Then he
smirked. "Anyway, I've got better plans and they don't involve us going
over to the bloody Watcher’s place."
Willow smiled and rested her chin against his hair, she had no doubt that he
did. "I promised Giles that I’d go, you don't have to come."
Spike snorted in disgust, his fingers creeping up her legs. "And how would
you get there?"
"I can walk."
"Over my dead body..." Spike turned again to shoot her a scolding
look and caught the start of her 'isn't that a paradox?' face. He shrugged and
smirked. "Well all right, dust then."
Willow shook her head and laughed lightly. This was one
thing he insisted on, he didn't want her going out by herself after dark. It
seemed strange to her, after years of living on the Hellmouth, to have someone
actually worry about her wandering around after dark.
"I'll be fine, I have the mobile if I need to call you," she stated
calmly, knowing that he wouldn't listen to any sort of argument. The mobile
phone was another thing that Spike had insisted on getting for her and was
purchased by the Gold AMEX.
"Piffle..." Spike muttered, his hands coming to rest on her knees.
"S'pose we should have a bath before we head off to the silly old sod’s
then."
"Well, we can, if you haven't thrown out all my stuff again," Willow
grimaced. She couldn't understand him at times. Although she wasn't a great one
for perfumes or other little extravaganzas, she did enjoy the luxury of bath
gels and he had thrown out two of her favorites without an explanation.
Needless to say, she’d gone and bought them again, vanilla and hazelnut, and
vanilla and gardenia, threatening him with an impotence curse should he throw
them out again. So he didn't toss them, he hid them instead. They'd had a silly
fight about it and he still hadn't told her the real reason why.
Willow would have laughed at him had Spike actually told her
that the smell of vanilla reminded him of the Slayer. It irked him, he loved
the way she smelt after her baths, all soft and sweet, but he hated the idea
that somewhere across town the Slayer also smelt of vanilla. Alright, it wasn't
the same soft natural sweet smell of Willow, the products were different and
the Slayer smelt of a more chemically construed vanilla, but it was still
vanilla. Still, he had a plan so that the Slayer would never want to use it
again.
Spike stood up and smirked. He swooped down and picked her up off the step,
causing her to squeal and throw her arms about his neck. "We have the
raspberry one..."
"I think I still smell of raspberries from this morning," blushed
Willow, burying her face in his neck. One of her bath gels and body lotions was
based on raspberries and had driven him into a state of bliss. It reminded him
of when he was a child, he and his mates would go out to the country on lazy
warm days and eat raspberries from the bush and steal buttermilk from the
streams where it was kept cold. They were happy memories of lost youth, warm
days spent with his mates, chasing each other and capturing butterflies. Willow
had gone "aw" at the mention of butterflies and Spike had grimaced,
he didn't elaborate that once the butterflies were caught he and his mates
would pull off their wings and legs and watch them die of shock. For some reason he thought that those little
details might ruin the ambience of the whole memory.
However, the memory had provoked some rather interesting
fantasies, fantasies that he’d acted on in the early hours of the morning. Waking her by running plump, red berries
over her body, marking her pale flesh with the scarlet juice and then licking
her clean. He'd kissed her with his mouth full of the bittersweet berries,
juice and flesh moving into her mouth, the juice staining both their lips. Then
he'd declared that the berries weren't sweet enough for him so he'd worked his
way down her body and painstakingly slowly pushed the berries into her, his
tongue teasing her clit while his fingers manipulated the berries. As she
climaxed her muscles had clamped down, squashing the berries in her body. Spike
had declared that she was a raspberry smoothie, his favorite, and proceeded to
lick and suck with fervor, making sure she was well and truly cleaned of the
fruit, leaving Willow in a sweaty heaving sated heap.
"But I do need a bath," she was still blushing.
"A quick bath, then we'll go to the stuffy old fart’s place," Spike
muttered, reaching the top of the stairs, hoping that if he distracted her
enough in the bathtub then they wouldn't have to spend the evening anywhere but
in bed.
Unfortunately it wasn't enough of a distraction to keep them away from Giles,
it just made them an hour late.
"Hi," greeted Willow as she walked through the door and Giles twisted
on the couch, glancing up at her.
"Willow, I thought you might have forgotten. I tried calling the
dorm," he stopped as Spike strolled in behind her. "Spike."
"Why is Spike here?" asked Xander, dropping his slice of pizza into
the book he had been reading, warping the text with grease. "I'd thought
you'd moved out? Left. No longer concerned, that sort of thing."
"Red here said you were having a party," Spike lied, dropping down in
a chair and putting his feet up on the coffee table, staring at the dumbfounded
people surrounding him. "And who am I to miss out on a party?"
"It's a research party, Spike," spat Buffy, silently wishing that
Giles would do an uninvite spell. "And since you have so vehemently
declared your utter abhorrence to helping us, I don't see why you’re
here."
"Aw, what's wrong, Slayer? Some demon beat your boyfriend up?" Spike
grinned at her, knowing that was exactly what had happened. Personally, he was
hoping that he could get to the demons before she did ~ maybe they all had Gold
AMEX cards. "He's all bruised and battered and not up to servicing
you?"
Buffy stared stakes at him and before she could get in a comeback Giles
interrupted them.
"Yes, well I am sure that we will appreciate your assistance, Spike,"
Giles stated, turning to Willow. "May I have a quick word with you
about..." he glanced down at the scowling Spike and Buffy, wondering if it
was safe to leave them alone together. "Err…computers, yes, computers, in
the kitchen for a moment?"
"Umm, okay," frowned Willow, following him out to the kitchen, quite
sure that computers were the last thing Giles wanted to discuss with her.
Spike glowered as he watched the two engage in discussion in the small kitchen,
he was certain the old fart was sticking his nose into their business, where it
wasn't welcome. Spike was perfectly happy to keep their relationship just
between them, he didn't want the hassle of all her friends and certainly didn’t
want the constant threat of having the Slayer go ballistic and stake him over
stealing away her best friend. Still,
he wondered what Giles and Willow could be talking about, he couldn't very well
wander into the kitchen to find out and Buffy, Xander and Anya chatting didn't
allow him to eaves drop, so he had to concentrate on Willow's expression,
trying to work out what was going on.
At least he did until Buffy stood in front of him, holding
out a book.
"Bloody hell, what?" he asked and Buffy raised her eyebrows, waving
the book in front of him before dropping it down onto his lap and returning to
her seat. He snarled at the book, turning it upside down and opening it up
randomly. Ever so casually, pretending to be thoroughly involved in the book,
he leant towards Buffy and sniffed loudly.
"What?" asked Buffy, trying to remember if she'd put on her
deodorant.
"Nothing," shrugged Spike and went back to perusing the upside down
book. He waited until she stopped
staring at him and sniffed loudly again, frowning as he did so. "Oh,
that's it."
"WHAT?" screamed Buffy, thoroughly frustrated by the blond and his
apparent sniffing fetish.
"You," he stated calmly, leaning back into the chair and flipping the
pages of the book. He wasn’t watching her, but he knew that she was either
rolling her eyes or glaring at him.
"What about me?"
"You smell like vanilla. Reminds me of this whorehouse in Paris that Angel
was so fond of visiting. Actually, he was just really fond of one whore in
particular. Blonde old hag, had no teeth...that really was a bonus," he
stated, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Buffy. "All that suction and
nothing to get caught on. Angel just loved that slag, every time he smelt
vanilla he'd get all happy and hard..."
"Why would no teeth be good?" asked Xander, frowning before his whole
face lit up with a goofy look. "Oh, I see."
"Xander!" hissed Anya, hitting his leg and scolding him. Xander gave
her a half smile and mouthed 'sorry'.
Spike watched Buffy carefully, her face falling in horror as she turned away
from him to frown at the book in her lap.
"Angel always said that vanilla reminded him...of me..." Buffy
stammered turning bright red. "I...I...French whore?"
Spike let a wistful smile grace his face as he crossed his hands behind his
head and put his feet back up on the coffee table. "With no teeth..."
"That’s just..." Buffy stood up, the book falling unnoticed to the
floor. She turned in a circle once, glanced at Spike and smoothed down her
hair. "Giles, I'm going to do a patrol."
Spike smirked as she slammed the door on her way out and turned his attention
to the redhead still talking to Giles in the kitchen.
"Vanilla and raspberries, starting to become my favorite fragrances,"
he muttered to himself, grinning broadly and knowing that Buffy would never
again use any vanilla scented products with out thinking of Angel's love of a
French whore.
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