Consequences
øøøøø
Her neck was aching, a dull throb that pounded with every
beat of her heart, and Spike's arms were crushing her. Moving slightly, Willow
tried to relieve the unrelenting pressure, but to no avail. Sighing, she closed
her eyes only to be filled with the vivid images of a wild and animalistic
Spike, barely in control. He'd hurt her, frightened her and marked her. And
now, apparently, he wasn't going to let her go. She was certain he was awake,
usually he would kiss her, tease her or play with her, but there was nothing,
just an emptiness and confinement. With the small amount of movement his
crushing hold afforded her, she ran her fingers lightly across the cool flesh
of his arms, trying to soften their hold.
As her fingers moved against him, she glanced about the massive and richly
decorated room. Decadent and deviant was the best way to describe it and Willow
had no doubt that it had been Angelus' room. She had never ventured further
than the main area and Angel's old room when she had been in the mansion, so
the upper level was completely foreign to her, until now. It frightened her
that Spike had lost so much control and felt the need for his terrifying
display of dominance here, in this room. She couldn't even begin to comprehend
what was going on with him at the moment.
"Spike?" she asked softly, hoping for some type of response. She got
none. Closing her eyes, she swallowed, silently begging him to say something,
to do something. She couldn't stand it anymore. "I have to go."
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it seemed to shatter the silence of the
room. Willow waited for him to say no, for him to demand she stay with him ~
she wanted him too. She knew he was in pain and even if he couldn't tell her
why, she needed to know that he wanted her, needed her.
Spike grunted, pulled his arms away from her and rolled over. She was free to
go, free to leave him and for a brief moment she thought she was going to cry.
Instead, she pushed herself up and off the massive bed, moving down to where
their abandoned clothes lay scattered about. Grabbing her jeans, she pulled
them on and shoved her feet into her shoes, but as she reached down to pick up
her shirt, she snatched her hand away, like it was poison. It was nothing more
than a torn rag. He'd torn it from her in his brutal display of affection.
Affection...such a strange word to use really. Did he care for her, or was she
just some sort of substitute for Drusilla? Last night she must have been a poor
substitute because he obviously didn't want her there, he couldn't even stand
talking to her.
Willow sat down on the end of the bed, cradling her
aching neck and trying not to cry. He didn't want her there, he was so cold and
distant ~ all she wanted to do was go, but she couldn't leave because he'd
destroyed her clothes.
"Take mine," his voice shattered her thoughts and she turned
slightly, barely able to glance at him as he lay on his stomach, eyes closed,
head buried in a pillow. Tearing her eyes away from his still form, she reached
down and snatched up his black t-shirt and pulled it over her head as she stood
and headed for the bedroom door. Pausing, she partially turned her head, not
willing to look at him.
"I'll...I guess...I'll see you later," she mumbled, desperate for him
to say something, for him to do something. There was no response and swallowing
back the tears, she made a mad dash for the stairs. She was halfway to the front door before his voice stopped her.
"Willow," it was a soft growl and she turned about slowly. He was
standing at the top of the stairs, clad in his jeans with the fly only
partially done up.
"Yes?" she murmured, desperately wanting him to ask her to stay, tell
her everything was fine or would be fine. She just wanted him to hold her and
tell her that he needed her as much as she was finding she needed him. Most of
all she wanted him to tell her why, why last night had happened. She begged him
silently, her eyes full of longing.
Spike clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing gold as he glanced about the mansion.
"Come back here...tonight."
Willow nodded mutely, he didn't want her to stay, that was obvious to her.
Crossing her arms, she turned on her heel and left the mansion. Her mind was
numb and blank as she started the trek back to campus, one thing repeating, the
thought that he didn't want her anymore.
"FUCK!" screamed Spike, clutching his head and walking down the
stairs. All he wanted to do was ask her to stay, not to leave him alone in this
place, with his memories, his pain, his hatred. But he couldn't. He just let
her walk away, leave him, just like...
He'd fucked everything up. Brought her here, tried to beat his personal demons
by almost beating her and he knew he'd hurt her. His head, the whole time he'd
been savagely fucking her, taking out his frustrations, was killing him. Not
enough to make him stop though, it was that fine line between pleasure and
pain. Pain, it had blinded him when he'd bitten her, a final act of brutality
in his need to dominate her. And what had she done? She'd soothed him, calmed
him down, comforted him. He'd been so close to really wanting to hurt her, to
see her blood cover his hands, beat her ~ it scared him. He hated himself.
Why the fuck had he even come here? Angelus, that's why. All he could think of
when he pulled up in front of the mansion was Angelus. Angelus ignoring him,
ridiculing him, taking Dru from him, but mostly ignoring him. Anger, hatred,
frustration and pain had flooded him. He wanted nothing more than to exert
himself, show that he was stronger, that he was the one in charge, that he was
his own master and Willow had been there. So he had taken her without regard,
dominating her and marking her. He'd fucked up.
Spike stopped his blind wanderings and looked about the room he had walked into
to. It was the room that he'd occupied while he was weak and disabled, the same
room that Angel had slept in after he came back from hell. Although cold and
murky, it still wreaked of his sire and Spike glanced about. How many times had
he been confined in this room, trapped by his disability, forced to endure
Angelus? Too many for his liking. It still held the same bed, the same
curtains, same barren emptiness and loneliness that he had suffered and he
wondered at Angel's actions in taking the same room. Perhaps he didn't want to
be reminded of the deviance and decadence of the upper level.
Anger grew in him; memories flooded him of Angelus, of
Angel, of Dru and his little redhead...all in this mansion. Pain, lust, love,
hatred, fear, loathing it was like a kaleidoscope of emotions, spiraling and
twisting, wrapping and warping him.
Suddenly he morphed, the demon coming to the fore, as he realized that was it.
This house, this room represented everything he was when he was weak and
helpless ~ he hated it, but he was strong now and he would beat it because he
wasn't that Spike anymore. Anger,
hatred and frustration screamed through his body and he picked up the chair
smashing it against the wall, shattering it and causing a great chunk of
plaster to fall. Storming over to the wardrobe, he threw the doors open and
started to destroy the clothes that Angel had left there in his rush to leave
Sunnydale. Carefully and meticulously, he worked his way through that room,
destroying and annihilating anything and everything.
Some two hours later there was nothing left but piles of shredded material,
shattered furniture and rubble. Spike was kneeling in the middle of the
destruction, his hands bleeding, his pale chest covered in cuts and abrasion,
his hair in disarray and his head bowed.
"You can go to hell, Angelus," he spat vehemently at the chaos he had
created. "I'll be happy here and you can't fuck it up this time."
And so his thoughts turned and took a new direction, one that included a
redheaded witch who was across town sitting in her psychology lecture.
***
Willow listened, what were they talking about? What was Buffy asking her? She
couldn't hear anything...things were muted and distorted. Buffy's voice sounded
a million miles away while the lecturer seemed to boom. When she'd gotten back,
she'd grabbed her things and taken a shower, hot and scalding, hissing as the
water pounded onto her bruised skin. Fingerprints lined her hips and she was
pretty sure that she'd pulled a muscle in her leg. And of course there was her
neck, a rough, deep and angry bite. It wasn't neat mark, his fangs had torn her
flesh as she had tried to soothe him. As she’d rolled her head she wondered if
he had actually punctured a muscle, it was so sore and tender. She’d scrubbed
herself from head to foot, trying to erase the memories, trying to ease the
pain with hot water. It didn't work.
Now as she sat in psych, dressed in a high-necked shirt, she stared blindly at
the lecturer and wondered about Spike. He was a demon, she knew that, but that
didn't explain last night. He'd been like a man possessed, filled with a
desperate need, a need to prove something and he'd used her to do so.
Could it have been Dru? Was it really that? His entire vampire life had been
spent with her, was Willow fooling herself to think that she was anything but a
distraction until he found a way to get Dru back? Willow frowned and shook her
head. No, it had to be more than just Dru. It had to be, after all, he'd bitten
her, pushed himself beyond that comfort zone and bitten her, marked her. Surely
that meant something, it was a way of showing possession in the vampire world.
Then why did it make her feel so bad? She felt like it meant nothing to him,
that he was disgusted that he'd even gone to the trouble of doing it. Maybe he
didn't really want her. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. He didn't
want her, that's what she had felt when she left the mansion, it's what she
felt now, he didn't want her.
"Willow?" Riley was calling her and she opened her eyes, he looked
concerned. "Are you okay? You look like you're about to pass out."
"Actually, I think I might go...if that's okay?" she whispered,
students were staring at her, murmurs had started when the TA had quietly made
his way up the edge of the theatre to talk to the pale redhead.
"Sure. Buffy, you can take notes," he stated looking at the blonde
and gracing her with a smile. "Can't you?"
Buffy nodded and smiled, her hand reaching out to Willow as she gathered her
books. "Get some rest, I'll pick up the assignments and everything."
"Thanks," murmured Willow, letting Riley help her and lead her up to
the back entrance of the lecture theatre, away from the ongoing lecture.
"Are you really okay?" Riley asked once they were outside. Willow
looked up at him, he was too tall for his own good at times.
"Yeah, I'm fine...I'll be okay," she nodded her head. That's what
she'd said to everyone when Oz left. I'm fine...I'll be okay. Was that going to
happen again? Was Spike going to leave as well? Her stomach lurched and she
felt dizzy. Riley's hand shot out and steadied her.
"Okay, you're not fine. Let's go," he took her bag and led her away,
down to one of the campus' more secluded and quiet cafés. Sitting her down, he
left her briefly to fetch them some coffee. "So what's going on?"
Willow stared at him blankly for a moment before giving him a half smile and
shaking her head. "I don't know."
Then she giggled. It seemed ridiculous. She was talking to a guy who was
indirectly responsible for her and Spike getting together. She couldn't very
well say 'oh well my vampire boyfriend, who nobody knows I'm seeing, just went
completely psycho on me last night and now can't stand the sight of me...and
he's going to leave...' No, she doubted that Riley would understand that. She
smiled sadly and took an interest in her coffee.
"It's nothing that anyone can help me with, Riley," she said softly,
her fingers delicately tracing the rim of her coffee mug, pale and smooth like
Spike's skin.
"You feel like that now, Willow. But..." he paused for a moment,
looking at the tired redhead before him. "You know you have friends who
care about you, about what you are going through. If it's about Oz
leaving..."
Willow grimaced. Everyone thought it was about Oz leaving. Maybe it was. She
was terrified that Spike was going to leave...but it was different...wasn't it?
"Why do people always leave anyway?" she asked offhandedly and Riley
shrugged.
"I don't know. Sometimes it's easier to run away than to face your problems,"
he caught Willow's eye and smiled. "It takes a strong person to actually
stand up to their demons, Willow, to conquer them."
***
Spike paced. The sun had been down for an hour now and there was no sign of
Willow. Where the fuck was she? Again he made a general sweep of the ground
floor of the mansion. He'd spent the remainder of the day lurking and puzzling
through the various rooms of the house, ideas and thoughts running rampant in
his mind, and the desperate need for a sledgehammer. He'd tidied up the main
foyer and living area, sweeping it out, clearing away the debris that had
accumulated. Upstairs, he had changed the sheets in their room, and made plans
to move the furniture...plans he needed to discuss with Willow. But she wasn't
there.
"Oh bloody hell," he swore, spinning about and punching the air.
"Where the fuck are you?"
He knew she had classes until four, but that was hours ago. She should have
been there by now. He paced the room again, his boots leading him up to the
shattered remnants of the front door, and glanced out into the shadows of the
night. There was no sign of her. Frustrated, he walked down the front steps and
got on the bike.
***
"Can you give me a lift somewhere?" Willow asked Riley. They'd been
sitting, drinking various beverages and talking about nothing and everything
for hours now. It was one of those comfortable non-sharing chats that she used
to have with her friends all the time, now they seemed too busy with other
things. Buffy with Riley, Xander with Anya, Giles with...well let's face it,
she'd never sat around talking nonsense to Giles so he didn't count. It had
been nice and Riley was charming and intelligent, offering his opinion and
taking a genuine interest in hers. It had also given her time to think and she
didn't realize it was so late.
"Sure, where to?"
"Crawford Street."
***
Spike gunned the motorcycle, making its engine roar. He'd really fucked up. He
should have just asked her to stay ~ he knew she didn't need an explanation, if
he had asked she would've stayed and he'd still have her. But did he? No. He
was starting to hate himself for letting her just walk away this morning. She
wasn't in her dorm, or at Giles, he'd briefly called in to say he was moving
out.
"Why?" Giles had asked, somewhat taken back by the loss of his
vampire roommate.
"Well, I can't stand you checking my ass out every five minutes,"
he'd said sarcastically. "It makes me feel all violated."
And she wasn't at her parents' house, they were as usual out of town and the
whole place was securely locked up. So that left him riding about the streets,
considering his options. There weren't a lot. He didn't like this, not knowing
where she was ~ she belonged to him and she should be by his side. If that made
him selfish, too bad, it was how he felt. She was his and he wanted her, needed
her and he had come so close to destroying her last night. Suddenly the thought
struck him...had he destroyed her? That would explain why she hadn't shown up,
why he couldn't find her now. His thoughts were distracted as the front wheel
of the motorcycle hit a loose patch of gravel and skidded. The bike slid down
onto its side, trapping Spike under its massive weight, sparks flew as metal
dragged across the road. Finally it came to a complete halt with Spike still
pinned by one leg under the bike. Grimacing, he shifted his weight, checking to
see if he'd done any damage. He could feel gravel rash along his calf and
thigh, his jeans were definitely torn on one leg, but apart from that he was
fine.
"This is just fucking great," he screamed, violently kicking out at
the heavy bike with his free leg, sending it spiraling up into the night air
and it fell a few feet away from him. He rolled over to his back and banged his
head against the road. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."
He repeated the word with every bang of his head. How could he be so fucking
stupid? So wrapped up in his own needs and torment that he'd merely brushed
Willow aside without a second thought. He'd bitten her for fucks sake, marked
her, claimed her. It was meant to be something special and tender, instead he'd
cheapen it into some pathetic show of dominance to make himself feel better.
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he screamed at the
night. Standing up, he stalked over to the bike and got back on.
***
Willow made her way upstairs. Something was different, her shoes didn't make
any sound on the floor, no crunching as she walked. Slowly, she walked into the
master bedroom, the bed had been remade and there was no sign of Spike.
"Oh god," she muttered, suddenly feeling sick. Silently, she crawled
onto the huge bed and curled up into a ball, rocking herself. He'd left.
***
Spike glanced down at the tiny pair of gloves he held in his hand, so small and
fragile. Just like Willow. And he held her fragile future in his hands just as
easily as he held the gloves, and he could destroy it just as easily...if he
hadn't already.
"Anything else tonight?" asked the sales assistant, a typical
bleached blonde biker girl wearing Harley Davidson clothes and boots. Spike
glanced up and looked at the piles of clothes she held. A few leather jackets,
pants and helmets. Everything that Spike would need to make sure that Willow
would be safe riding on the bike. The last things were these gloves, gloves
that would protect her hands, hands that in a way protected him.
"Yeah, these," he stated quietly adding the fine black leather gloves
to her burden. He strolled up to the cashier and pulled out a great wad of
money ready to pay for it all. He'd take it back to the mansion before he'd go
out and look for her again.
***
As soon as he walked through the door, he could sense her, smell her, hear her
heart beat echo through the empty mansion. He sighed, relief flooding him,
she'd come back to him. Slowly, he made his way up the staircase and to their
bedroom, pausing in the doorway to take in her sleeping form. She was too pale,
too tired. He was selfish, wanting her all the time, he was too demanding ~ he
sometimes forgot she was really only a young girl. Carefully, he shrugged out
of his duster, tossed it aside and removed his boots. Inch by inch, he crawled
up the bed over her sleeping form, his arms and legs encircling her. Lowering
his head, he brushed his lips across hers, a soft tender kiss. She shifted
slightly, gradually waking up. Spike smiled and brushed his lips over the
ragged bite mark he'd left, licking at it, trying to soothe the angry red mark.
"Spike?" Willow murmured opening her eyes, her hands wandering to
stroke his hair and arm. He shifted above her, lowering himself to her body,
and resting his head against her breasts, reveling in her warmth while his arms
wrapped about her.
"Forgive me?" it was a question that was barely audible, but it spoke
volumes to Willow. Tears that she had held back all day welled up in her eyes,
silently falling onto her sleep-flushed cheeks. Her arms snaked about him,
holding him to her. Together they held each other, purging the pain and
confusion that had plagued them.
øøøøø
|
|
|