Willow stomped her feet childishly across the grass as she walked through the graveyard.
It had fallen to her to deliver Spike�s blood to him, along with the message that if he didn�t make an appearance at the Scooby�s tonight to help with the impending doom situation, he could forget their mutual truce and be staked before sun up tomorrow.
Of course it had fallen to Willow, since she had no plans tonight.
Olivia was flying in to see Giles, so Willow couldn�t do research at his place. Xander and Anya were celebrating the anniversary of Anya�s first massacre. Willow didn�t even want to think how to commemorate such an event but knowing Anya it would probably involve nudity and excessive sweating and call her crazy but Willow just didn�t think of either Anya or Xander that way; at least not any more. Xander that was, not Anya, she had never thought of Anya that way. Ew.
Buffy was with Riley in the dorm until about 9 during which time they would attempt to patrol with Riley�s tongue down Buffy�s throat and then they would go back to Riley�s dorm to�whatever, leaving Willow in the dorm alone all night.
Not that she really minded that much; since Oz had gone she had lost all interest in the opposite sex. There had been almost no one who had sparked any lust or even awareness in her.
Still that meant that she had no one to hug or kiss or anything and meant that she was the only one available to take the moody blonde�s blood to him.
Oh boy isn�t this fun. She was supposed to go up to the crypt of the man who had tried to kill her and tell him that if he didn�t start to play nice with others they were going to kill him. Sorry- not man- Vampire. Spike was a vampire. Okay he was a sexy Vampire but Willow hadn�t noticed that. No siree. Like she said there was almost no one who could make her look twice at another vamp�man. Dammit. Just because he�d been sweet and tried to cheer her up when she was feeling down about her attractiveness didn�t automatically make him a good guy. And the fact that he was the only one who had noticed she was still in pain over the lying, cheating scumbag didn�t make him a saint, and the fact that he was the only one that hadn�t yelled at her for her my-will-it-so spell didn�t mean he liked her or anything. And she didn�t want him to either. So neh.
So Willow was currently stomping her feet across the cemetery, acting like a spoiled child because the only guy who�d even peaked her interest was an arrogant, psychotic, egotistical dead guy!- and those were his good qualities!! She shivered with the slight chill in the air and pouted. She hadn�t even had time to go back to her room to pick up her sweater because somewhere she�d lost her jacket. So she was cold and annoyed and she really didn�t want to be playing delivery girl.
She finally looked up as she sighted the crypt he had moved from Giles� to. It wasn�t much but she guessed to a Vampire it was all he needed. It wasn�t like he needed central heating or anything.
She really didn�t want to knock on that crypt door and threaten Spike, she really didn�t. her feet began to drag as she tried to prolong the inevitable.
As she got closer, she suddenly heard a groan and she froze.
The groan came again, louder this time along with a hiss.
Willow crept tentatively towards the door. It sounded like someone was in pain and since this was Spike�s crypt three guesses as to who was doing the groaning.
She knew that Buffy hadn�t gotten all those Bractesh demon�s the other night, maybe one had got out and had attacked Spike, or hell it could have been a human, which he couldn�t fight back and wouldn�t he be so receptive to seeing her right now if some puny human had gotten the better of him. Willow deliberated leaving the blood on the doorstep�or would that be crypt-step? And just go. But then he�d be mad if some other Vampire got his dinner and then he�d be even angrier at Willow. But if he was really hurt then maybe he would need some help? Would he let her help? Then again if she knocked and he knew that she�d see him weak and hurt he�d be even madder than that. She danced from foot to foot trying to decide what to do.
Another groan split the air of the cemetery and Willow bit her lip. Suddenly she had a brain wave. Buffy had told her that around the back of the crypt there was a small grating that let some ventilation in to the crypt; Spike had installed it to clear out the musty smell, which had bothered him due to his Vampiric senses. He kept it covered during the day but undid it during the night to let the breeze blow through. Maybe if she could see how much pain he was in and what his face looked like, whether he seemed receptive to any outside help, she could decide whether to go in or not.
Relieved and more than a little proud of her quick thinking she sneaked around to the back of his crypt and looked for the grating. It was near the top of the crypt just under the overhang to prevent early morning rays from creeping in should he accidentally forget to close it. Willow climbed on the nearest headstone. Oddly enough it was so close to the crypt that it had to have been put there deliberately. After a few seconds of puzzling she realised, Spike would want to know if someone had gone into his crypt and by jumping on this strategically placed headstone he could see inside the tomb and prepare himself. She clambered onto it, thanking Spike�s forethought and paranoia and braced herself against a conveniently placed tree.
She peered inside the dusty room.
The crypt was dark and lit only by a few scattered candles here and there. In a crypt it should have looked morbid and evil but instead it looked almost romantic. There were very few furnishings in there, a dusty arm chair and small fridge presumably run by some mini generator. There was a television and a huge long stone sarcophagus on one side it had pillows and a blanket so Willow assumed he used it as a bed. Spike was leaning against the stone structure and as she watched a low hiss escaped through his teeth.
Willow squinted and moved her head closer to see what kind of shape he was in but the shadows fell in just the wrong way. She could make out his outline.
He ran one hand down his chest and then rubbed it up again. Willow pursed her lips, had he gotten a chest wound? He groaned and his head fell back slightly. Willow�s heart went out to him, the poor guy standing there in pain with no one to help him.
Spike shifted slightly and the light from the candles caught his profile.
Willow concerned face fell as her brain caught up with her eyes.
One hand was indeed still rubbing his chest but there was no wound there and the movements were too leisurely to sooth any ache. His other hand, which she hadn�t seen, was rubbing hard against the front fabric of his jeans which were strained.
As his hand drifted down his chest he groaned and rotated his head on his chest, dropping it to his shoulders.
Willow heard a quick zipping sound and her jaw dropped as his jeans were undone and shoved down his hips.
Willow blushed hard as she realised what he was doing and yet like a car wreck she couldn�t make herself look away.
Spike�s hand stroked himself in a long smooth movement and he groaned again this time it didn�t even resemble anything like a painful sound and Willow felt embarrassed that she hadn�t recognized it at first.
Well why would she? The rational part of her mind argued, it wasn�t like she spent a lot of time watching men doing�doing�*that* and she wasn�t one for watching porn. Although if all the actors looked like Spike she could almost certainly see the attraction.
From her vantage point she really couldn�t see it too well but her curiosity was burning more than her cheeks.
She turned her attention back to him as his hand left his chest and reached behind him and dug under his pillow, he pulled something out from under it and bought it to his face.
He inhaled deeply as his hand moved faster and harder, his whole body jerking with the effort, his hips slamming against his fist. He hissed as if the pain was as pleasurable as the friction his soft palms were generating.
Willow swallowed hard and knew that this was invasion of privacy and she should move away from the erotic tableau. It didn�t matter that the fine sheen of sweat on his toned, muscular body gleamed in the candlelight making him shine with some ethereal beauty. It didn�t matter that his tight jaw and closed eyes made him the perfect marble sculpture. It didn�t matter that the motions he was initiating had the ability to tug deep inside her to a place that she thought had died when Oz left and it didn�t matter that he clutched in his hand a piece of fabric like it was a lifeline making him seem vulnerable and innocent no matter what his actions belied. It was an invasion of privacy and she should leave.
To her credit she did let one foot drop off the headstone to climb down when it came loud and clear
�Oh�Red, please, harder.�
Whether it was the sound of her nickname or the please on his lips that made Willow freeze she wasn�t sure. She regained her footing and stared incredulously into the darkness.
He bought the fabric tighter against and ran it over his chest, harder over some areas and he threw his head back as his hips jerked violently.
�Witch�witch�Willow!� he roared as he came with a final thrust.
His chest rose and fell so quickly, despite the fact that he didn�t have to breathe, that described how violent his climax had been.
A satisfied smirk crossed his face but it dropped as he looked down to the fabric held in his clenched fist. A look of hurt passed over his features and he bought his hand to his face sniffing gently at the cloth. He closed his eyes and jumped back onto the stone, his shoulders drooped and he stared at his hands quietly.
Willow swallowed hard and dropped off the headstone, her mind blown away by what she had seen. She walked stiffly around to the front of the crypt and picked up the blood bags she had dropped.
She glanced warily at the door and back at the bags and back again.
There was just no way in hell she could go in there right now and pretend she hadn�t seen what she had just seen. Because she had just seen it�all of it, and oh some of that had been nice to see but she really shouldn�t let him know that she had seen it, and she did really see it didn�t she, she didn�t imagine seeing it because that would be so bad.
Taking a deep breath she headed back to the dorm, hoping that Buffy and Riley had gone out.
Spike tucked himself back into his jeans and lay down on his bed. He brought Willow�s jacket close to his face like a child would do a safety blanket. Well that was exactly what this was. This way he could be near Willow and yet still have the safety of not being staked by the Slayer or rejected by the girl, he wasn�t sure which would be worse.
He�d stolen the jacket tonight, they�d all been so busy with the latest whatever it was that had all their knickers in a twist that they didn�t even notice that he had snuck in, seen Willow�s jacket hanging over the back of the sofa, grabbed it and snuck out.
It was underhand and petty and pathetic but dammit it smelled so much like Willow.
She was amazing; he had known that the first time he had kidnapped her. She had comforted him and would have done anything to keep the boy safe, and then when he had gotten into the dorm room, she still tried to cheer him up about his inability to bite.
Despite knowing who and what he was she had stuck up for him and encouraged the others to let him stay with the watcher. She had bought him blood and convinced them to let him out of the bathtub. Regardless of her pain of betrayal, she put on a happy face and cared about others even when they didn�t deserve it and he had found himself falling arse over tea kettle in love with the girl.
Okay so it had been lust first and foremost, the way she smelled and her outfits that hid all of her treasure and made his mind abound with ideas of what lay beneath the fuzz; his best fantasy changing was what had happened in that dorm room to something a little more carnal and satisfying than what had actually occurred. But after a while, seeing her everyday as she came in to give him his blood while he was tied up, watching her face as she fought back tears and pasted a happy smile on her face, while she pretended interest in what was happening in his favourite soaps and while she smiled the smile that shamed the sun, it changed from lust to love.
And he had fallen hard. He could tell from her face and her eyes that she still cared for the wolf-scum who had broken her heart and so Spike had waited and watched. Eventually it got too much, to watch her and not hold her and take her that he needed some space. He told Giles that he would remain in Sunnydale and help the Scoobies but he needed his freedom. Thankful to get his bathroom back, Giles had agreed and Spike moved away to a different kind of torture.
Willow never came to the crypt to research, she didn�t hang around the cemetery to meet her friends or discuss the impending world crisis and since he didn�t go to college there was no way that he could bump into her accidentally. He�d gone from being surrounded by her and yet aching for her, to being alone, never seeing her and aching for her. It was an acute kind of torture. One only made easier by the thought that at least she was still in town. He could go over to the watcher�s and stare at her; he could follow her home and wish and long for her to look at him, really look at him.
Usually he would come home after watching her and have to relieve his frustrations. Tonight it had seemed different, with her clothing rubbing against him, he could almost taste her, and her scent was so thick in the air. It was almost as if she was there watching him and he had come so hard from thinking that, he could still savour it.
Now he just lay back and wished that she was here with him, lying next to him, wrapped in his arms feeling sated and warm. Maybe she�d look into his eyes and kiss him softly whispering those three words he wanted so desperately to hear from her.
He�d have to stop by the Watcher�s tomorrow to see her, he needed to see her.
Willow sat staring at the book she held on her knee but even if you�d offered her a thousand dollars she wouldn�t have been able to tell you what it was that she had just read. She was plagued with images of Spike. Spike with his hands all over himself, touching, caressing and last night those images had changed in her sleeping mind to images of him touching her, caressing her, loving her. She knew what he looked like when he came and she knew how her name would sound on his lips. The pictures had woken her up in a fever and she had had to take a cold shower in order to go back to sleep.
The sight had intrigued her, it had taken the slight crush she had had on Spike and turned the heat up to full fledged desire. She wanted to see his eyes as he lay inside her, she wanted to watch his eyes turn amber and his ridges appear in the midst of passion and she wanted him to bite her. She shivered at the thought and looked up just in case someone noticed the serious lack of attention she was giving to the research she was supposed to be doing.
Thankfully her friends hadn�t deviated from their total inability to notice anything but their own lust bunny sitting right there in front of them. Buffy was practically gnawing on Riley and if she wasn�t mistaken Xander�s hand was in Anya�s shirt.
She rolled her eyes and they rested on the figure that had just walked through the door.