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AUTHOR'S
NOTE:In my world, Cordy and Xander are now sleeping together.
Spike wheeled into the
mansion and spotted Drusilla in the living room, pacing.
"Oh, there you are.
Did you explain to the little red haired girl that you wouldn't be seeing her
any more?"
Sometimes when Drusilla
latched onto an idea, she just didn't want to shake it loose. Sighing, Spike
levered himself out of the chair onto the couch, then shook his head at himself.
Faking his injury in this place had become second nature. "No."
"Why not?"
Drusilla demanded, stomping her feet.
"I never said
anything about breaking up with Willow."
"Why do you want
that measly little thing? Why would you want a human over me?"
"I don't, Dru.
Please, sit down and stop stomping around." Drusilla sank elegantly onto an
ottoman and glowered at him. Spike continued. "I love you both."
She made a face and
looked at him in confusion. "Why?"
"I don't know, Dru.
How can you explain love? Look, can we drop this? I've had a very difficult few
days." He sighed again and rubbed his hands over his face.
Drusilla stared at him,
then frowned slightly. "Do you still want me?"
"...Always, luv."
He gave her a smile of genuine affection and she climbed off the ottoman and
onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his
shoulder.
"I don't like
sharing."
"Neither do I, luv,
but sometimes we have to do things we don't like."
"...You mean...me
and Angel," she whispered, her voice full of guilt and sorrow."
"It's okay, Dru. I
understand." Her arms tightened around his neck and he closed his eyes,
holding her close. "So...will you accept her?"
"I guess," she
finally said, a little hesitantly. "I don't have to see her, do I?"
"No."
"Good. Can we dance
now?"
Spike nodded and placed a
delicate kiss on her cheek. "Yes. In my room. Remember Angelus mustn't know
I can walk."
"Why?"
"I want to surprise
him," Spike answered, thinking fast.
"Can we have a party
to surprise him?"
"Sure."
*****
Willow spent the entire
next day either tossing and turning in her bed, reading Clayborne's Letters or
searching the Internet for any way out of this mess. All to no avail.
At nearly four o'clock in
the afternoon, she lay on her back staring at the ceiling, her mind awhirl with
all the knowledge she had absorbed in the previous hours. Her head hurt, her
stomach churned and her eyes burned from lack of sleep. She had managed to force
herself to eat another sandwich, but it had tasted like sawdust and settled
heavily in her stomach.
Antacid had helped her
keep the food down, but she still felt sick. It hadn't been difficult to
convince her parents that she was under the weather. She knew she looked
horrible.
She was also exhausted.
She hadn't slept more than an hour at a time for the last several days and the
need for sleep was tugging at her. Slowly Willow's eyes closed and her mind
drifted away.
~~~~~
Willow walked into the
mansion. She didn't want to be there. A large part of her was screaming at her
to run away. But, she forced herself to go forward. Mounting the steps, she
moved unerringly towards a large, red door.
Her hand trembled as she
turned the knob and pushed the door open. Hot, fetid air rushed from the room
and she stepped inside. The door slammed behind her and the smell of blood
overwhelmed her.
Looking up, almost in
slow motion, Willow saw Drusilla, naked, chained to the bed posts of a high
posted bed. She hung limply from the chains around her wrists, and blood oozed
from hundreds of whip marks on her breasts, stomach and thighs.
"Secrets
destroy," Drusilla said through torn and bloody lips.
Willow's eyes moved past
the tortured female vampire and found Angel. He sat on a sofa, arms stretched
along the back, a look of ecstasy on his face. Splattered blood covered his
naked chest and between his legs knelt Buffy, naked, sucking lethargically on
the cock protruding from the black leather pants.
His hand wrapped in her
blonde hair and he forced her head lower, thrusting hard and making her gag. As
he came, he looked up at Willow and smiled evilly. "I win."
Buffy fell onto her back,
gasping and stared at her friend with dull, empty eyes. "My fault,"
she choked out before Angel kicked her negligently in the ribs.
Willow looked away, her
eyes traveling farther around, until she found him. He sat in the wheelchair,
bound to it, unable to move. Naked, his flesh was eaten away by holy water,
leaving large holes. She could see his ribs and a glimpse of his heart. His
genitals were gone, cut from his body, and blood seeped from the wounds.
His eyes were open--they
eyelids missing. The look in his eyes was one of intense agony--agony beyond her
understanding. Blackened lips opened and he spoke in a guttural murmur.
"Love you."
"Spike," Willow
whispered as a flood of tears burst from her. She felt herself spinning, the
images of the room becoming a blur. Dizzy, she crumpled to the floor and opened
her eyes. The room was gone, replaced by an empty, dark space. Peering into the
gloom, Willow saw Angel walking towards her.
He held out his hand and
she found herself taking it, letting him lift her to her feet, her fingers cold
and trembling, his cold and hard. "You promised me, little one." As he
pulled her against his icy body, his mouth opened wide, full of sharp teeth and
Willow screamed.
~~~~~
Willow awakened,
screaming, and found arms wrapped around her, strong, masculine arms. Her first,
terror-filled thought was that Angel was there and she struggled, hitting and
kicking, her legs tangling in the blankets.
"Will...Will, calm
down. It's me, Xander." He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms tighter
around her back, trying to soothe her.
Finally, the familiar
voice penetrated her mind, pushing the nightmare aside. "Xander?"
His hands rubbed her back
and shoulders and his warm breath caressed her face as he breathed softly.
"Yeah, me. You okay, Will? Buffy said you were sick."
Slowly Willow pulled back
from him, her eyes focused on her lap, her limp hair hanging in her face.
"Yeah...sick."
"I was...worried. I
know we haven't really talked...for a while." Xander patted one of her
hands absently as he spoke softly. "But...I missed you. Even though you're
mad at me."
"I'm not mad at
you," she protested dully.
"You can't even look
at me," he replied in a hurt voice.
Willow peeked at him from
between dirty strands of red hair and sand-encrusted lashes. Xander's face was
full of concern and pain. Sighing, she flung the hair out of her face and raised
her head. She wasn't prepared for his gasp of horror.
"Wh...what...who."
Xander's hand shook as he reached out and touched her cheek. Willow winced at
the spark of pain, then her eyes widened. She had actually forgotten about the
now yellow and purple bruise. "Who did this to you?" he managed to get
out.
"Xander..."
"He did it, didn't
he. That vicious animal," Xander spat, fury sparking in his eyes.
"I'll kill him for this. Somehow, I don't know how, but..."
Willow caught his wrist.
"No. Xander, please. I'll be okay."
Tears filled Xander's
eyes at the dull acceptance in her voice. "This was what I was afraid of,
Will. I knew he'd hurt you and...he could kill you."
"He won't kill
me." Willow wished she could be so certain of that, but she shook off her
doubts and continued to caress Xander's wrist. "We...had a fight. I shoved
a cross in his face and he...reacted badly. He was very sorry."
"They always say
they're sorry," Xander responded bitterly and Willow cringed, knowing he
was thinking about his parents. "Did he bring you flowers or a piece of
jewelry the next day?" he asked sarcastically.
"No. Xander, I know
you're scared for me, but Spike won't kill me."
"He's a vampire.
He's super-strong. He could have...killed you with that slap."
Willow paled at the truth
in his words. Fresh tears leaked out of her sore eyes and she buried her face in
her hands. "Oh God, I've screwed up so badly."
Xander pulled her into
his arms, onto his lap and cradled her, again trying to soothe her. "Tell
me, Will. I know something's going on much worse than this. Let me help."
"You...you have to
promise not to do anything rash," she sobbed.
"...Okay...nothing
rash, I promise. But, I don't promise not to yell a lot."
Forcing herself under
control, Willow sank against his warm chest and began haltingly to tell him
about the bond.
*****
Dusk fell. Xander had
left Willow's an hour before and had just started walking aimlessly. He was
confused and hurt and very frightened for Willow. But, there was nothing he
could do. She had made him promise not to go after the bastard.
Xander found it very
difficult to believe that Spike hadn't known what he was doing when he fed on
her and created this obscene bond.
Somehow they had to find
a way to break it.
As the streetlights came
on all over Sunnydale, Xander was a little surprised to find himself walking up
Cordelia's driveway. Willow had told him that Cordelia knew about the bond. He
had been surprised about that, too. He hadn't realized that the two girls had
become friends.
Of course, Cordelia had
seemed to know about Willow's relationship with the demon before that night at
the Bronze. He had never pressed her on that.
How long had she known?
Xander rang the doorbell
and was surprised when his girlfriend answered it herself. "Maid's day
off?"
"I was coming down
the stairs. I CAN answer a door, you know."
He followed her into the
house and up to her room. Cordelia locked the door and leaned against it,
smiling. "My parents are at the Theatre tonight."
Distracted, Xander
plopped down on the bed and stared morosely at the floor. "That's
nice."
"What's wrong?"
"I...went to see
Willow."
"Oh."
"Did you see what
that bastard did to her?"
Cordelia sighed deeply,
then moved to sit on the bed next to her boyfriend. "Xander...trust me.
Willow can take care of herself."
"But...but...she's...he
hit her," he finally managed to say.
Leaning against Xander,
Cordelia put her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist.
"I know why that bothers you so much, Xander, but it was the first
time."
"The first time.
And, do you know what the chances are that there will be a second?" he said
bitterly. "You're right this bothers me. She's...she's my best friend...and
her boyfriend hit her." He choked back a sob.
"I hit you,"
Cordelia said in a small voice and felt him tense against her.
"That was
different."
"Was it? I was
angry."
"But...I liked
it," Xander whispered.
"But, you didn't
know that you would. I didn't realize." Cordelia jumped to her feet and
began to pace around her room. "I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to do that
without your permission."
"Cordy...Cordy, stop
it; you're making me dizzy watching you." Cordelia stopped, but couldn't
look at him. "There's no comparison and I'm glad you did it."
She nibbled on her lower
lip and stared past him, out the window to the lights of the town below.
"So...if Willow had wanted him to hit her..."
"HUH? What? Cordy.
What are you talking about?"
"Nothing."
"She's scared of
him. Even I could see that. She told me all about this stupid bond and how she
saw him killing and that he's still screwing that insane vampire chick."
"Yeah."
Cordelia nodded her head in agreement and sat back down on the bed, letting him
rant for a while, knowing that he needed to get it out.
Finally, Xander quieted
down and flopped onto his back. "This is a fucking mess," he sighed.
"But...you know
there's nothing you can do," she said softly.
"...I know...and
that really pisses me off."
Cordelia rose to her feet
and reached for the buttons on her blouse. "Maybe I can think of something
to take your mind off of...well, everything."
"Unlikely," he
sighed, then gasped as her bra fell on his face. "Um...Cordy?" Sitting
up, Xander watched her strip off the rest of her clothes and lean against the
post of her bed. He gaped, then began yanking off his clothes.
Smiling, Cordelia walked
into her closet for her toy box. Opening it, she removed her newest toy--a
lovely wooden paddle. Holding it behind her back, she returned to her room to
find Xander standing by the bed, naked, his cock hard and high.
"Um...honey...I want
you, but..." His eyes dropped to the floor.
Cordelia understood and
smiled gently. "You're afraid that you'll take your anger out on me.
Xander...I DO understand you...probably a lot better than you understand
yourself." She brought the paddle out from behind her back. "So, we'll
take care of that anger."
Looking up and seeing the
paddle, Xander felt a shudder of relief go through him and his hands slowly
unclenched. "I love you, Cordy."
"I love you, too.
Now, get your ass over my vanity bench...and if you come without
permission..." She left the threat hanging and watched him scramble over to
the bench, draping himself across it and digging his fingers into the deep pile
of her carpet.
*****
As soon as Angel took
Drusilla hunting, Spike got on his motorcycle and headed for Willow's. Tonight
he had to convince her that he loved her and he hadn't meant for any of this
mess to happen, but that, together, they could deal with it.
Parking at the curb, he
jumped off the bike and strode up to the French doors. Grabbing the knob, he
hissed as pain lanced through him. Yanking his hand free, he gaped down at the
burns on the palm, then looked up to find a cross in the window.
Baffled and frustrated,
he backed up, cradling his wounded hand. She had put holy water on the door knob
and a cross in the window. Spike stared at the door for a moment, then growled
deep in his throat.
She'd be very surprised
when her precautions failed to keep him out.
Willow heard him outside
her doors, heard him curse and hiss in pain. She cringed back against her
headboard. At the time, putting the cross in the window and the holy water on
the door knob had seemed like the right thing to do.
Now, she wasn't so sure.
Growling, his demon free,
Spike covered his face with one arm and reached for the knob again. As he
twisted it, pain lanced up his arm and he could smell his flesh burning. The
bloody door was locked.
Furious, he slammed his
shoulder against it, breaking the lock and shoving the door open. Cradling his
wounded hand and avoiding the cross, Spike strode into the room.
Willow shrieked into her
hands, mindful of the fact that her parents were in the basement watching
television. She tried to get her body to move, but she was petrified with fear.
Cursing under his breath,
Spike kicked the door shut behind him. His head pounded from the closeness to
the cross. His hand throbbed in burning agony and still smoked.
And he couldn't believe
she had done that.
His eyes snapped to her
and took in her fear. His demon rejoiced at it and moved forward, intending to
punish her severely.
As Spike reached for her
with one clawed hand, Willow tumbled off the other side of the bed, her hands
scrabbling for anything she could use as a weapon. He was going to kill her. She
just knew it.
Spike rounded the bed and
pounced, jerking her up and flinging her onto her back on the mattress. Before
she could move, he was straddling her hips, pinning her flailing arms down on
either side of her head.
Useless tears leaked from
her eyes as she watched the demon bare its teeth.
"Please
don't..." she whispered, her voice shaking.
Spike lowered his head,
smelling her fear, wanting to taste it. Licking his lips, he buried his mouth in
her throat, his teeth scraping her tender skin.
He felt the sob beneath
his lips and froze for nearly a minute. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself
back under control. Slowly he lifted his head and pulled back from her, freeing
her hands. As his demon retreated, he winced at the bleeding wounds in her
wrists from his claws and felt a wave of helplessness wash over him.
Turning to sit on the end
of the bed, no longer touching her trembling body, Spike buried his face in his
good hand. "Shit."
Finally realizing that
she was alive and he was back in control, Willow slowly rolled away from him,
curling into a ball. She cried softly in relief.
*****
Xander flinched and
curled his toes into the carpet as the fifth blow landed on his ass. Cordelia
had a lot of strength for a girl and she seemed to know just where it would hurt
the most. Alternating between cheeks, she was turning them a lovely purplish
red.
At the next blow, he
groaned and pressed his hard cock against the bench, loving the friction as each
smack made him rub harder against the velveteen.
Cordelia's hand caressed
his ass, running over the bruises. She watched as he rubbed his cock on the
bench and couldn't help but smile. She knew she should punish him for that, but
her own lust was about to explode out of control.
Raising the paddle, the
brought it down hard across his flat ass, making him groan and jerk in pain and
pleasure. Seven was enough. Dropping the paddle, Cordelia walked on shaky legs
over to her bed and lay down in the middle on her back, her legs spread and
raised slightly.
"Xander, come
here."
Slowly Xander pulled
himself to his feet. Shuddering slightly at the pain and the heavy throbbing of
his cock, he shuffled towards the bed. His eyes fell to the nest of dark curls
between her legs and he licked his dry lips, watching her manicured fingers dip
into the swollen, wet flesh.
Xander knelt on the bed,
then crawled between her legs, knowing what she wanted. In the last few weeks he
had become quite good at oral sex.
He also had learned that
after punishment he had better satisfy her well, or he wouldn't get to come at
all. He remembered that one night two weeks before when he had tried to get her
to fuck first and she had flipped him onto his back and climbed over his face.
Her mastery of him had
aroused him even more. He had given in quickly and brought her to orgasm, then
had been shocked as she had thrown him out of the house. He had barely made it
to his car, before his pants were around his knees and he was jacking off.
As he lowered his mouth
to her hot crevice, Xander admitted to himself that he might be a slow learner
at some things, but not at what really mattered. Lapping her clit with his
tongue, he wormed one finger beneath Cordelia's hips and slipped it in her anus.
Moaning in pleasure,
Cordelia bucked against his mouth. His lips closed around her swollen flesh and
he sucked hungrily, nipping and licking as she twisted her fingers into the
bedding and bit her lip.
As he wriggled a second
finger into her tight back door, Xander wondered vaguely if she might let him
fuck her there sometime. He knew that it wasn't just gay guys who did that. As
her muscles clamped down on his fingers, he wondered if his cock would survive
the experience.
He was eager to find out.
But, first things first. Cordelia was bucking against his face, driving her wet
pussy into his mouth and he sucked hard.
"Oh God," she
cried in a strangled voice as her orgasm crashed through her. Whipping him
always turned her on so badly. As her body shook in release, she reached down
for him and grabbed his shoulder. "On your back, now," she panted.
Breathing hard, Xander
complied, wincing as his sore ass landed on her hard mattress. He quickly forgot
the pain as Cordelia straddled him and impaled herself on his cock.
Xander groaned in
pleasure as his cock throbbed deep inside her tight passage. It was so good,
skin to skin. He was so glad she was on the pill and they had both tested
negative for all diseases.
His hands found her hips
and he caressed her damp, firm skin, feeling the muscles contract as she rose
and fell on him.
Moaning in lust, Cordelia
leaned down and ran her hot mouth over his chest and neck, as her fingers dug
into his shoulders and her hips churned. On each downstroke, she rubbed her
swollen clit against his hard body.
They both began to pant
in unison as their bodies moved faster, building towards climax. Xander slid one
hand around her hips and in between her legs to find her slippery clit. Lesson
number one had been that Cordelia came so much better if he used his fingers on
her, and when she did, she clamped down around his cock, nearly driving him
insane.
Near insanity was worth
it.
"Oooh, yeahhh,
Xander..."
Feeling his balls
tightening in near painful lust, Xander bucked his hips up, smacking their flesh
together as his fingers rubbed her clit hard like she liked it. "C'mon
baby," he groaned through gritted teeth. "Come for me."
Her fingers tightened in
his shoulders, leaving marks that would bruise, and Cordelia yelled his name as
her body spasmed out of control. She slumped forward on his chest, her hips
still rising and falling, driven by his cock, as her orgasm rolled through her.
Flinging his head back
into the pillows, Xander arched hard and came, filling her with hot seed.
Panting and gasping for
breath, they both collapsed, still joined.
Xander raised one shaking
hand to her head and caressed her, running his fingers through her tangled hair.
"Oh, baby."
"Love you," she
mumbled against his neck.
"Love you too."
*****
Willow had stopped crying
a few minutes before but Spike knew she was on the verge of hysteria. She had a
right to be. He had nearly killed her. His demon, on whom he had kept such a
tight rein for the first three months of their relationship, seemed to keep
slipping free with ease all of a sudden.
If he didn't regain
complete control, he would kill her or turn her. Either way, he would destroy
her.
Glancing down at the
healing burns on his hand, he squeezed it into a fist, wincing at the pain. What
had Willow said in one of her diatribes? It was supposed to be just illicit sex,
just fun. It wasn't supposed to become anything meaningful.
Spike knew when that had
gone out the window. When she had been caught by Drusilla the second time. He
never would have lost his temper if he hadn't been so panicked...If he hadn't
suddenly faced the fact that he could lose her to death. That night he nearly
had lost control. He had spanked her like a child when he had really wanted to
chain her to his bed and never let her go.
But...that would have
destroyed her too. He had to let her be herself, he knew that, or the woman he
loved would vanish.
But, he couldn't let her
force him out of her life either, and not just for the obvious reason that it
would drive her mad.
Unfortunately, Spike's
mind was a total blank about what to do next.
Exhausted, Willow lay
still, her sore eyes closed, her breathing even and shallow. She knew he was
still there, sitting only a few inches from her.
She knew she couldn't
make him leave. She wasn't a fighter. She had failed at her attempts to keep him
out of her room...out of her life. Her one attempt at protecting herself had
landed her with a bruised face. Her attempt at killing him...She didn't even
want to think about that.
She was so tired,
physically, emotionally, spiritually. She was tired of fighting him, of fighting
her own traitorous body, which wanted to curl up against him and have him make
it all right again. Her mind was overloaded with facts and nightmares, truths
and possibilities. She was tired of trying to make sense of all of them.
Opening her eyes, Willow
slowly rose to her feet, running her hands over her tangled hair, knowing she
looked like a hag. Licking her dry lips, trying to swallow against the lump in
her throat, she turned to face him. Spike looked up, wariness and weariness in
his eyes, and watched as she drew a pad of paper off her dresser and wrote
something down. He took the piece of paper from her trembling fingers and his
eyes narrowed as he read the words.
"I'll meet you
there, tomorrow night at ten o'clock," she said hoarsely, her throat raw
from sobbing.
"Willow."
She made a harsh gesture
with her hand and he closed his mouth, his fingers tightly gripping the note, as
he rose to his feet. Willow backed up slightly, her eyes focused on his chest.
She couldn't look at his face.
"I...can't talk
about any of this...not now...I...don't know what I want...or how to make
anything work." She took a deep, shaking breath and her shoulders slumped
as her arms crossed over her chest. "I can't do this anymore...not now. I
can't think straight."
Spike saw the defeat in
her stance and wished she would look at him. He didn't know what to say to her
either. He glanced down at the crumpled note, then shoved it in his pocket. Its
contents brought him a small measure of relief, but he was old enough to know
that it wasn't going to solve anything and would probably make the whole mess
even worse.
"Goodnight,
Willow," he said softly before turning and walking to the door. Wincing at
the cross, he quickly opened the door and disappeared into the night.
Exhausted and sick at
heart, Willow padded over to the door and took the cross down, shoving it in her
desk drawer. Taking some tissues, she wiped the remaining holy water off the
outer knob, then closed the door.
She didn't even bother to
wonder how she was going to explain the broken lock to her parents.
Nothing mattered anymore.
Willow sat on the end of
her bed, her hands clasped in her lap, waiting. She was dressed modestly in a
green cotton sweater and a black skirt, her hair pulled back in a braid. There
was a composed look on her face. She had removed the makeup she had worn to
conceal her bruise from her nosy mother. The people who would see her now,
already knew or didn't care.
She had spent the day
sleeping. For the first time in recent days she was able to sleep several hours
straight without any nightmares. She thought she knew why, but that thought only
made her sad.
Turning her head slightly
she looked at the door. In between long naps, she had gone to the hardware store
and had managed to fix the lock pretty well, thanks to the Sunnydale school
district which had made a rule that all girls had to take shop and all boys home
ec.
Her parents had believed
she was sick, told her to stay in bed and gone to their respective jobs. Willow
was glad her mother seemed finally to be growing out of her hovering stage--it
had only taken sixteen and a half years.
A knock on the outer door
startled her and Willow jumped up, glancing at her watch. Fifteen minutes till
ten; right on time. Picking up her purse and taking a deep breath, Willow opened
the door and stepped outside.
"Hey, I got your
message; I'm here; are you okay?"
Willow looked at her best
friend. "I need you to walk me someplace. I know that doesn't really fall
under a Slayer's duties..."
Buffy smiled gently and
took Willow's hand. "Maybe it falls under a friend's duties. Where are we
going?"
"To meet
Spike." Buffy stared at her and Willow sighed. "I have to."
"Okay. I won't ask
any questions." Clearly troubled, Buffy slipped Willow's arm through hers,
asked for directions and led her towards the street.
*****
Fifteen minutes later,
outside the door, Buffy stepped back from Willow and gave her a critical look.
"I'll be back in one hour."
"That isn't
necessary."
"You needed my
protection to get you here. I'm not abandoning you."
Willow looked into the
Slayer's stubborn face and sighed, nodding. "Okay. One hour should be
fine."
"I hate this."
"...Me too."
Turning, Willow opened the door and stepped inside the poorly lit room.
Spike sat on the bed,
wearing only a pair of black jeans, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin in
his hands. He caught a glimpse of Buffy before Willow closed the door. "Is
the Slayer here for your protection?"
Willow winced at the
snide tone in his voice and set her purse down on the bedside table. "No.
She'll be back in an hour to walk me home."
"I'm surprised you
didn't invite her in, to make sure I didn't kill you or turn you or do something
to piss you off."
Feeling the familiar lump
rising in her throat, Willow sank onto the lone chair, her eyes growing bitter.
"We have to do this," she choked out. "I'm not going to go nuts
because of you. Nobody said we had to enjoy it."
Spike smirked and rose to
his feet. "Oh, you'll enjoy it. That's the whole bloody point, isn't
it."
"Why are you mad at
me?" Willow whispered.
He stared at her, then
snorted and began to pace. "Maybe because I fucking love you and you've
turned something beautiful into my servicing you like a stud to a mare."
Willow flushed and dug
her fingers into the arms of the chair. "I didn't start this." She
winced at the look he shot her. "Okay, I did initiate the bond, but I
didn't know about it."
"Neither did
I," Spike interjected. At her silence, he continued angrily, "But, you
don't believe that, do you?"
"I...don't want to
talk about that."
"You never do,
Willow. If we don't talk about it, about any of it, we're never going to get
past it."
"Not now," she
begged. "Please, let's just do this and leave it at that for now."
"I love you,"
Spike cried in a vibrant voice. "I want to make love with you."
She answered in a small,
dull voice. "We can't. I won't let us. I can't let us. I won't allow myself
to be drawn back in."
"I, I, I. There's
more than just you in this relationship."
Willow stared at one of
her hands, watching the fingernails scrape into the soft wood of the arm of the
chair. "There is no relationship, Spike."
"So, we just fuck
like animals," he said bitterly.
Willow nodded, swallowing
down her instinctive sob and praying that she wouldn't start crying. It would
have been so much easier if they could have just done it and gotten it over
with. Clinical, clean, over.
Running his hand through
his hair, Spike sighed in frustration and reached down to grab her arm. Yanking
her to her feet, he flung her on the bed.
Shocked, Willow bounced,
then scrambled up onto her knees, scooting back against the cheap, padded
headboard.
Spike knelt on the bed
and leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders, his face
only inches from hers. "I can BE an animal, Willow," he said in a
soft, deadly voice. "You won't like it."
She smelled it instantly.
He reeked of alcohol. "You...you're drunk."
He sneered, his lip
curling in disgust. "Not quite, Willow, not enough. Unfortunately, getting
a vampire drunk is about as difficult as getting into a nun's knickers."
Fear flooded her. He
might not be drunk, but he wasn't entirely sober either, and she didn't know
what he might do to her with his control at all shaky. "Please..." Her
breathing quickened. He seemed so angry with her, as if the alcohol had released
all his bitterness. He was looking at her almost as if he hated her.
"So, what do you
want, Willow? Do you want it nice and tender or do you want me to fuck
you?"
Willow stared blankly at
him, her mind frozen.
Spike sighed and pulled
back slightly, shaking his head. "One more time, Willow. Making love or
fucking?"
Slowly her mouth opened
and she whispered, "It can't be making love."
Rolling his eyes in
disgust, Spike reached for her shoulders and jerked the sweater over her head.
"Oh, look, a bra. That's something new."
At his sarcasm, Willow
turned bright red. She didn't feel comfortable without a bra anymore. She didn't
feel comfortable with HIM anymore. Especially, this new, sarcastic, frightening
him.
Spike's hand curled into
the bit of lace between her breasts and ripped down, making her gasp in pain as
the straps pulled on her shoulders.
"You're hurting
me."
Spike leaned in again and
his mouth brushed roughly across her cheek as he whispered nastily into her ear.
"Haven't you ever seen animals mate, Willow? The male often hurts the
female. They're so much bigger, so much more aggressive. The female often has to
be subdued."
Terror flooded her at the
image of him forcing her to accept him, on her hands and knees, crying, his
mouth clamped on her neck, shoving her head down in submission. Willow pushed at
him, trying to get him away from her. "No. No. I don't want to do
this."
Catching her wrists,
Spike pinned them above her head and pressed his chest to her now naked breasts.
"Too late."
A single tear ran from
one of her stricken eyes. "You can...you can just bite me. Clayborne said
it didn't have to be..."
"I read that book
too, Willow. If you're only going to let this happen once a month, I'm not going
to risk not releasing all the enzyme."
"You'd force me to
sleep with you?" She was stunned.
"Why not?" he
replied harshly. "You won't talk to me or let me see you. You've tried to
bar me from your room. So, obviously you already think I'm a royal bastard. Why
don't I just take the next step I can see forming in your logical little mind
and threaten to kill your parents if you won't let me fuck you?"
This time, Willow managed
to free her hands and shoved herself off the bed, harsh gasps breaking from
inside nearly hyperventilating lungs. She staggered, then slumped against the
wall, tears streaming down her cheeks, wetting the ugly wallpaper.
Spike's arms circled her
waist and pulled her back against him. She felt his erection pressed against the
small of her back and wanted to curl up and die. One hand slid up to cup a
breast while the other slid down and under her skirt. With a quick jerk, he tore
the thin fabric of her panties, yanking the remains down her legs.
"Don't," she
begged brokenly.
He squeezed her breast,
roughly massaging the nipple until it hardened. Willow reddened with shame and
her head drooped forward.
Spike slid one leg
between hers, parting them, then yanked down the zipper of his jeans.
As the familiar sound
joined the noise of her harsh breathing, Willow squeezed her eyes shut and
waited, her whole body trembling in denial.
Flipping her skirt up,
Spike shoved her harder against the wall and lifted her hips. With a quick jerk,
he impaled her on his cock.
Willow moaned as he
filled her, stretching her, but not hurting her. Her traitorous body had
moistened for him. She stood on tiptoes, her hands, cheek and breasts pressed to
the wall as he began to thrust hard and fast, obviously not caring to give her
pleasure, only striving for his own release.
For the first time ever,
she remained quiet and listened to the sounds of sex. His body slapping against
hers. The wet sounds from inside her body. Her tiny, breathless sobs.
There was not a flicker
of pleasure.
Was this what whores
felt? Being full of him, yet empty to her core? Cold and numb and full of
sorrow?
Suddenly Spike's mouth
latched onto her neck. He sucked at her shivering flesh for a moment, then his
fangs pierced her skin.
The cold was replaced by
heat. The emptiness by her own fullness. The numbness by throbbing and tingling
throughout her whole body. Willow yelled as pleasure lashed through her, zinging
from her neck to her womb. Her inner muscles clenched around his cock and she
came, her body shuddering in release. Whimpering, she felt his cold seed fill
her as her blood drained from her.
Then she was alone. In
one swift motion Spike removed his fangs, hands and cock from her, leaving her
alone and growing cold again. Slowly Willow sank to her knees, the tears
resuming their slow tracks down her flushed cheeks.
Staggering away from her,
Spike managed to tuck his cock away and refasten his jeans, before he collapsed
on the bed. He reached under his coat at the bottom of the bed and pulled out a
nearly empty bottle, shaking the amber contents for a moment. Cursing fluidly,
he opened the bottle and drank deeply.
It didn't help.
His eyes strayed over to
her, to where she knelt against the wall, her shoulders heaving as she silently
sobbed. Her bra hung in tatters from her shoulders, her panties were caught
around her ankles, a trickle of blood ran down one arm.
He cursed as his cock
twitched. He wanted her again.
He always wanted her.
Spike ran a shaking hand
over his face and took another swig of whiskey. He WAS an animal. He'd taken her
with no care, no delicacy, no decency.
Shit, their first time
together had been better for her than this.
He was no better than
Angelus.
Furious at himself, Spike
sent the nearly empty bottle flying across the room where it shattered against
the wall.
Willow jumped, her eyes
flying to the source of the noise. Her shaking hand went up to her neck and came
away bloody. She swallowed hard and pulled the remains of her bra off, then
pressed the soft cotton to the wounds in her neck.
Forcing her fear down,
she pulled her panties off, then reached for her sweater and tugged it over her
head. Covered, she pushed herself to her feet. Swaying dizzily, she carefully
walked into the bathroom, listening intently to see if he would follow her.
Shaking in relief that he
was leaving her alone, Willow closed the door and looked into the mirror.
Picking up the washcloth, she wet it and dabbed gently at the oozing holes in
her neck. Once the bleeding had stopped, she used the cloth to wash the traces
of him from between her legs.
His cold seed oozing down
her inner thighs was making her nauseous.
Focusing on the simple
tasks, she filled a glass with water and took a sip. Her hand shook and she
nearly dropped the glass. Taking a deep breath she forced herself under control.
She would survive this.
It had been nasty. Nastier than she had expected. But, it was over and they
didn't need to do it again for another month.
Tears pricked her eyes as
the memories tried to take over, but she forced them all away. She couldn't deal
with what he had done to her. Not now. Maybe never.
Looking in the mirror at
the stranger that looked back, Willow noted the dark bags under her bloodshot
eyes, the now yellowing bruise on one cheek, her unnatural pallor. Shock, that
was it. She was in shock.
She was also thinner. Her
cheekbones were more prominent, so was her chin. Looking down at her hands, she
realized she could see the blue veins through the skin and almost make out the
bone. And she felt bad--weak and tired all the time.
If she kept this up, she
wouldn't need to go mad and die, she'd just die.
God, had it really been
less than a week since she had seen these same signs in Buffy?
Willow picked up the
glass again and took another sip, then straightened her shoulders from their
seemingly perpetual slump. Clenching her teeth together, she forced herself to
face what she had become.
Then she turned and left
the bathroom. Now, she had to face him.
Spike sat on the end of
the bed pulling his boots on as she exited the bathroom on unsteady legs. He
looked up at her, saw the calm of her expression, and frowned.
Not looking at him,
Willow walked past him to the chair and sat down, a little gingerly. She was
sore, and not sore in the well-loved way to which she was accustomed.
"Willow," Spike
said softly.
She picked up her purse
and busied herself with fumbling with the strap.
"I'm sorry."
Tears pricked her eyes at
the sincerity in his voice and she looked over at him. He was watching her, such
sorrow in his eyes, that a part of her wanted to go and hug him. Straightening
her spine, Willow took a deep breath. "I know you are. But, that won't make
any of it right."
"It's over, isn't
it."
She nearly wept at the
lack of all emotion in his voice. It was so empty, so dull. Her heart began to
beat faster and she took another deep breath. She had to remain in control.
"...Yes."
Willow watched as he
picked up his shirt and slid it over his head, then grabbed his jacket and
headed for the door. As he reached it, he turned to look down at her, his eyes
empty, his expression smooth.
"What about the
bond?"
Swallowing hard, Willow
forced herself to speak words she didn't want to say. "I'll meet you here
in thirty days, same time." Her voice was empty too. She wondered if her
eyes looked as dead as his did.
"Goodbye,
Willow."
"Goodbye,
Spike."
He opened the door and
stepped into the night. As the door closed, Willow found she couldn't even cry
anymore. She turned off the lamp and sat in the dark, staring across the empty
room, waiting for Buffy, somehow managing not to think about anything.
She really hoped she
never thought of anything again.
End The Bitter Suite