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Little Girl Lost -- by Luisa
Rating: R
Description: Willow has suffered a loss and ends up in the gutter, some one unexpected pulls her back.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon owns it all.
I
She's gone...I can't believe it. Things look exactly the same, nothing's different! But she's not here and she's not anywhere else either. She didn't leave, she didn't abandon us....
How could she crash her car like that?! Crushed inside, the road was wet.... What they don't know is that she was a perfect driver. Never speeded, never parked in the wrong place, never even honked...and now she's dead. Dead!!!! And Dad keeps forgetting that...he drinks and forgets and then drinks again.
I can't stay here!!! This house...it's her! This silence...I'll go crazy if I stay here another day. Put some clothes into a suitcase today. It reminded me of the time when Buffy ran away...is it possible that I finally understand why? That I feel what she felt back then? No.....they don't understand. They never liked her. It was always horrible when Buffy came over. She smiled and it was all so fake! Buffy never spoke a word against her, but that didn't make a difference. She hated Mom...Xander hated her too. But I knew better...I still know better. It doesn't matter now, it doesn't matter....There's nothing but pain...And if I stay here, this pain's gonna grow worse and worse until I break. And if I break, Dad'll break too. He's better off without me...
Of all the deaths she could have met with in Sunnydale...! Oh.... Mom.....how could you die on me like that?
It kills me that nothing stops. That people go on, that day changes into night and everything's just the same! Only Dad seems to have stopped...in the worst way possible.
Well, I'm gonna stop too! I don't wanna go on like this...everything's changed inside, even if it hasn't outside. I hate it here. I hate everything about Sunnydale now. I don't want to pass by the cemetery anymore, I don't want to see that church anymore. I don't want to fight death...and I don't want to help stop the world from going to hell.
I DONīT CARE!!!!!! You're gone. Soon I'll be gone too...and that's that.
II
<Willow's in bad shape...what am I going to do?...>
Buffy repeatedly asked herself this question during the weeks that followed. She had been as horrified as everybody else at Mrs. Rosenberg's unexpected death even though she was used to dealing with such things. Death was an undercurrent in her life. It made everything else seem meaningless most of the times.
She had never liked Mrs. Rosenberg, but what did that matter now?
Willow's mother had been more absent during her lifetime than she was in death. She had forgotten about Willow when Willow needed her most. Buffy had witnessed her friend's quiet suffering and she had blamed Mrs. Rosenberg for it. But somehow all this faded into nothing...after her death. Death is too final. Like a sudden blow that sends you crashing to the ground and you don't know what hit you...
III
<My best friend...and I can't do a damn thing to help her!>
Xander paced up and down, trying to gather his thoughts which seemed to be scattered all over the place. <Willow, Willow, Willow...what can I do?> The walls ignored him. The whole house was indifferent to him.
<She won't talk to me. She doesn't show any signs of wanting us around. She doesn't call, she doesn't come over and she doesn't want us in her house.>
Xander was afraid for Willow. His childhood friend had looked so lost...so desperate. The funeral had been an ordeal. For all of them. But Willow had looked as if she wanted to jump into the grave herself. Her father had cried. She hadn't.
<Probably didn't want to cry in front of a bunch of strangers. Or in front of us?...Seems we've become strangers to her as well...>
This constant pounding in his mind was driving him nuts.
He left the house and headed over to Buffy's.
IV
All was quiet when Willow left town. Nobody noticed a thing. Sunnydale basked in the golden sunlight and most people were in the park. A beautiful Saturday morning.
She was going to LA. Seemed like a good place to bury herself in. Buffy had grieved there...A note had been left for her father. She'd call.
She had stocked the fridge and cleaned up the entire house like a zombie. Feeling nothing, noticing even less. Deep shadows were under her eyes, her hair looked dull and lifeless and she moved slowly.
She'd found a bottle under one of the pillows on the couch. She'd left it there.
V
L.A....The City of Angels. The fallen ones. It looked dirty and grey. Just about perfect.
Willow was tired. She had nowhere to go and nobody cared about her. Nobody even looked at her on the street. When they did, their eyes were empty. Reserved. Bleak.
She had finally sat down on a bench in one of the parks. She couldn't walk another step. The suitcase wasn't heavy but her fingers threatened to let go of it. She had actually considered leaving it somewhere...but her mind had refused to let her. It was all that was left. If she got rid of it...
After a while someone came and sat down next to her. She didn't even blink.
"Looking for a place to stay? I can get you one." The voice was soft, slightly hoarse. It spoke hurriedly. Willow looked up and saw a girl not much older than herself. Full, red lips.
She was dressed like a...hooker. Mini-skirt, flashy pink tights, black pumps, almost non-existent top and a short, white fur coat over it. Willow looked away.
"Look, sugar, take it from me. You won't find it easy to get a place to crash in tonight and you look like you need one. So...?"
Willow shrugged and looked at the girl again. She nodded once and got up.
VI
Spike was on the prowl. His first bite had been tasteless. He needed more.
<Stupid city.> LA wasn't all he had expected. Too much tainted blood for his taste. Everybody was soiled. No clean bodies here. No clean spirits either. At least not in this part of town. Hookers, pimps, junkies, hobos, perverts, psychos, zombies, demons...and their blood was poison. He felt like breaking their necks. One by one.
Was it possible that he actually craved for Sunnyhell? The prudish, demure little town...with its totally blind, oblivious people. Boring, mind-numbing Sunnydale. Spike smiled bitterly at his own thoughts.
<Mate, you need a smoke.>
It wasn't easy to drive in LA's traffic and smoke at the same time, but he had years of practice. Right now, smoking and fucking were his only pleasures in unlife. Nothing else mattered. Driving was OK...as long as one didn't look out of the window much. Welcome to LA We offer you hell on earth.
It started raining. <Great. I'm already feeling better...> He lit up another cigarette.
All of a sudden something caught his attention. Red hair. It stood out against a brightly-lit shop window like a lonely, wavering flame. Attached to a vaguely familiar, young head. That looked very old and very wet at the moment. He couldn't believe his eyes.
<What is she doing here?>
Willow Rosenberg. The girl he had threatened with a broken bottle. The amateur witch. Looking like hell.
<What the fuck is she doing? Just standing there...looking like that...where did she get those rags anyway?...No. It can't be! Not her...> The truth dawned on him.
He parked the car in a dark, sordid-looking alley and walked up to her. She hadn't noticed him. Her eyes looked blankly at the passing cars.
<Is she on something?>
He stopped in front of her and waited.
VII
Willow was startled. Under heavy layers of make-up, the blood drained out of her face. She froze.
Spike just stood there. Looking down at her in a very somber, very scary way. His face seemed whiter than ever. It gleamed in the dark like sculpted ivory. And it was just as cold.
"Well, are you gonna say something or are we just gonna stand here all night like bloody statues?"
His first words made her snap out of it. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, pressing her lips in a grim, determined line. She then swiftly turned on her heel and walked away.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" This made her stop dead in her tracks. Danger. She had to be very careful.
"Look, Spike...Please go. I don't need this right now." Was this really her voice?
"You don't need what right now?"
"This...this judgment thing! You know what I'm talking about!" She was pleading with him.
"No, I don't. You don't know what you're talking about either."
"Get away from me, OK?! I didn't ask you to drop by, I didn't ask for this!" She sounded hysterically vehement. Her voice shook, her whole body trembled, she was close to tears. Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath and spoke very distinctly, making sure she understood every word.
"First of all, I'm not going anywhere. Second, if I do decide to go somewhere, I'm taking you with me. Third, I don't need to know what happened, love. What matters is here and now. So...?"
"So what!" Willow snapped at him, her whole body poised in an attitude of defiance. And immediately regretted it when his own mouth narrowed into a grim line. She wasn't prepared for what happened next.
Spike took off his duster, flung it over her small frame, wrapping her in it. Picking her up, he threw her over his right shoulder as if she weighed nothing. "Next time you wanna sell yourself to someone, talk to me first!"
Willow was knocked for six. "What the fuck are you doing?! Let go of me!!!"
But she didn't dare put up a fight. There was little energy left in her body for that anyway. All she could see from her uncomfortable position was the pavement. It was moving. Making her dizzy.
She closed her eyes.
VIII
"Hey pal, hands off the bitch. She's property!"
A thin, greasy-looking man in a flamboyantly yellow suit stepped out from a shadowy corner, stopping in front of them. He didn't look pleased.
Spike didn't bother to answer. He laid Willow on the concrete. When she tried to get up, he shoved her back down none too gently. "Don't move!"
He then turned to the pimp. A nasty smile played on his lips. His eyes glittered dangerously.
"You were saying..."
"Get the fuck outta here. The bitch's mine!"
"I don't see a tag on her." Spike's mockingly polite tones made Willow cringe.
"You trying to be funny?! Get the hell OUTTA here!!!"
"Make me."
The man looked dumbfounded. He hesitated. Then made the wrong decision. His first punch never hit its destination. His hand was caught in a vicious grip until the bones started to crack. Willow averted her eyes from the scene, putting her hands over her ears to shut out the man's screams. She felt like vomiting.
A punch landed on the guy's chin, followed by another one to his stomach. Spike was out of control.
"I'm INTERESTED in your PROPERTY!!! WANNA SELL?!!!"
The demon had risen, beating its victim into a pulp.
"SPIKE!!! STOP!!! You're KILLING him!!!" Willow's horrified scream pierced the darkness. She ran towards him, almost twisting her ankle in the process.
With one last kick to the heap of broken bones, Spike turned away. Grabbing the drenched girl by the wrist, he half-dragged her to the car.
IX
Spike had enough. He didn't know what he would do with the chit once they were home, he didn't give a fuck. She had managed to piss him off in less than five minutes. Even now, she was giving him a hard time...
Heading straight for the car, he took out the keys and unlocked the door, unceremoniously dumping a bewildered, terrified Willow on the passenger seat and fastening her seat belt as an afterthought. His eyes flashed an icy warning at her.
Going round the front, he entered the car just as Willow had got hold of her senses and unbuckled herself. She was fumbling with the door-handle and sliding from her seat just as he got in.
"Oh NO you DONīT!" His hand was on her wrist and he was pulling her back, making her gasp in pain. He didn't want to hurt her, but she was driving him nuts.
"Let's get something clear, you little bitch! You move and I'm on you like a ton of bricks! You got that?!"
"Who the HELL do you think you are?!? I'm free to do what I want and I don't want to be here right now. So BACK OFF, psycho-boy!" He ignored her words and started the engine. This made her angrier.
"What are you, DEAF??? I WANT TO GET OUT!" She screamed at him, too furious to care about her own safety.
"One more word out of you and you'll see just what psycho-boy can do! So pipe down and don't fucking move!" His voice was frighteningly smooth, seething with demonic rage. Any minute now, she expected him to let the monster surface for a second round of mindless violence. She reckoned she'd be dead the next minute. It didn't happen.
They didn't speak another word. Eventually Willow gave up, tumultuous feelings seeping out of her as she lost hold of consciousness. She fell asleep, letting her headrest against the cold window-glass. She stirred slightly when a deeply relieved Spike straightened the leather duster over her body. Damp hair fell back from her neck, uncovering a recent bruise on its left side. Spike's eyes widened in shock. He was stunned.
<What the fuck...?> His first instinct was to let his fingers rest on it. Instead he concentrated on his driving, looking straight ahead. He didn't understand where the blistering rage was coming from.
Willow woke up. Her head was feeling woozy and she was thirsty. She blinked several times and lifted her hand to her neck, in a hesitant gesture. Spike noticed her movement.
"Good, you're awake. I want to know where you got that bruise on your neck."
"I don't have to tell you a fucking thing.", she snapped back.
"What, did one of your clients give it to you? As a gift?!" His voice could have cut through ice. Willow made no answer. She felt sick.
"WHY?! Because you wouldn't take it up the ass??? IS THAT IT?!" Her eyes flew to his face at this, in an appalled look. She grew yet paler. Her mouth quivered and she quickly looked down at her lap. Tears ran down her face, leaving a black trail on her white, hollow cheeks. Wet hair clung to her neck. She could barely get the words out.
"I w-was w-willing t-to, b-but h-he...h-his...was t-too...too..." She couldn't go on. She was sobbing, thoroughly heartbroken.
Spike didn't answer, for he didn't know what to say. He kept driving.
X
They reached their destination, a seedy-looking building in a blind alley. Willow had calmed down. She was tired out. All she wanted at this point was to sleep. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to eat anything. She wanted a glass of water and a warm bed.
Spike let her go in front of him, slightly leading her with his right hand. It was dark inside. They climbed up a flight of stairs until they reached the first floor. He took out some keys and opened a door on the left. Willow went in. It was even darker beyond the entrance. She couldn't see a thing. Spike reached his hand out and flicked a switch. Light suddenly flooded the room. The whole apartment consisted of one bedroom, a kitchen and what seemed like a bathroom. It looked impeccably clean. A dark shade of blue seemed to dominate the small space.
They were greeted by a feeble meowing. An ebony kitten ambled somewhat clumsily towards their legs. Willow's eyes widened delightedly as she kneeled on the carpet, trembling hands eagerly reaching for the tiny creature. She picked it up and held it to her breast. Spike quietly watched the scene. After a few minutes, he reluctantly spoke, as if unwilling to break the silence.
"Willow, meet Sammy. Sammy, this is Willow. She's gonna stay with us for a while." His voice was serene.
"I thought...animals were really afraid of...of..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
"The undead?" He offered sardonically. She nodded.
"Well, Sammy here doesn't have much choice. It's either me or the gutter. In some ways, you and him have a lot in common." There was no irony in his voice.
Willow looked up at him. He lifted his eyebrows in a quizzical way which made her smile against her will. It was a faint, delicate smile that lit up her green eyes briefly and made Spike look at her gravely.
<So frail.> He could almost feel sorry for her. Maybe he actually liked her and wanted her to stay. See her play with the cat on the faded, green carpet. See her smile. Spike frowned in bewilderment.
Hell, she could restore anyone's soul with those eyes...
XI
Holding Sammy in her right arm, Willow moved towards the kitchen after having shed Spike's duster. Her throat was parched. The kitten kept trying to climb up onto her shoulders, making it very difficult for her to get a glass. Spike noticed her predicament and took the small creature from her. He stroked it once and put it on the floor. He then proceeded to get a bottle of milk from the fridge and fill up Sammy's bowl. The kitten jumped comically at it, his whiskers glistening whitely in his dusky snout as a pink tongue lapped joyfully at the milk.
"Bon appetite."
Willow's fascinated gaze rested on the kitten. She had completely forgotten about the water.
"So... Are you going to drink or not?" Spike sounded amused.
"What? Oh...yeah." She hurriedly averted her eyes from his highly-diverted look and took out a glass from the cupboard, filling it under the tap and drinking it all at once. It felt wonderfully cool. She filled it a second time. When she was done, she yawned.
<If I don't get to a bed soon, I'm gonna fall on the carpet.> As if guessing her thoughts, Spike left the kitchen and moved towards a large double-bed in the middle of the room.
"OK, little girl. We'll have to share."
"Share?"
"Yeah. You don't expect me to sleep on the floor, do you?"
"Well, actually..."
"You can sleep on the floor if you like. I'm sleeping here." He let himself fall backwards onto the bed and remained there, as if asleep.
Willow hesitated, not knowing what to do. Finally she shrugged and took off her shoes. She was too exhausted to argue. She quickly undressed, shivering with cold and leaving only her black bra and panties on. She stood next to the bed, waiting for Spike to get up so that she could get underneath the covers. He didn't move. She couldn't tell whether he was awake or asleep. She kneeled on the bed and tried to push him to one side. "Spike! I-want-to-sleep!" She spoke each word as she tried to shove him with her hands. Suddenly she felt him trembling. He was laughing! The devil!
"Why you..." Her sentence ended in an incoherent outburst of helpless fury. She ended up losing her balance and toppling over, falling onto his chest. He opened his arms at the exact same moment and closed them around her body in a soothing bear hug. Willow was too startled for words. And Spike didn't know what had hit him. He held her for a long time. Until she started shivering again. He then tackled the arduous task of getting them both under the covers without having to get off the bed.
"Aren't you going to take off your boots?"
"Damn. I forgot." He sat up and took them off.
"Where does Sammy sleep?"
"Over there." He pointed to a small basket that stood in a corner, close to the bed.
"I forgot to wash off the make-up and brush my teeth..."
"Nevermind the make-up. Nevermind the teeth..." He sounded sleepy.
"Spike..."
"Hm?..."
"What about Sammy?"
"What about him?"
"What if he got lost in the kitchen?"
"Pet, cats don't get lost in people's kitchens."
"No, but kittens might...I'm gonna go get him."
"Stay here, I'll go." He got up and went to fetch the kitten, mumbling something about "annoying little girls". Willow smiled.
He came back with the kitten, stroked its silky fur once and put it in the basket. Sammy purred softly.
"Let's just go to sleep now, OK?"
"OK. Thank you, Spike."
"Goodnight, pet."
She was asleep before him, not noticing that he was holding her still.
XII
Coffee...delicious...wake up, Willow! Nooooo.....not yet! Yes, NOW!
Willow woke up and yawned, blinking in the semi-darkness. For it was dark in the room. Heavy, blue curtains made sure of that. She gradually remembered what had happened. It made her feel bad about herself. She didn't want to think about it, so she jumped off the bed and stretched her limbs. A good night's sleep had done wonders for her state of mind. And the scent of fresh coffee....Willow felt happy.
"Spike?"
"In the kitchen!" A faint glimmer of light shone from the kitchen door.
She ran towards it, not bothering to put on any clothes.
Spike turned to bid her good-morning as she came in. The sight of her in her underwear made him avert his eyes and turn his back on her abruptly.
"What? What's wrong?" Willow sounded anxious.
"Nothing. Go put some clothes on, OK?"
Willow's eyes widened in confusion. She looked at herself and then raised her eyes to Spike's back.
"Why?"
"Do as I say, pet." He spoke firmly.
"Fine!"
Feeling horribly humiliated, Willow stormed out of the kitchen and went to put on her clothes. They were dry now, but she hated them. They reminded her of a painful past.
The kitten was in his basket, still sleeping peacefully.
She took him in her arms abruptly and sat on the floor, lifting her knees and resting her head on them. Her body was shaking. She was sobbing; causing Sammy to meow woefully as heavy tears dropped on his fur.
Spike returned to the room and found her there. He ran his hands through his shiny, blond hair and sighed. <Bloody hell.> He sat on the carpet next to her.
"Willow....baby...I'm sorry." He didn't want to explain. He didn't want her to know that he had been aroused by her. Unbearably aroused. That he wanted to fuck her. Somehow he didn't think she'd welcome the idea.
He put his arms around her as best he could and kissed her red hair.
"Spike?...D-do you have anything I can wear? A s-shirt or something? I c-can't wear t-this anymore."
"Sure, love. I'll get you some clothes and then we're gonna talk."
She didn't want to talk. She wanted to be silent. But she nodded at his words.
He came back holding a white t-shirt and white boxer shorts in his hand. He was smiling naughtily. "I think you'll look smashing in these!"
Willow had been looking at some titles on a bookcase. She looked up and smiled gratefully back at him. He looked like a mischievous little boy. "Those look good."
"OK, I'll just pop into the kitchen then. Call me when you're done."
"You don't have to..." A look from him silenced her on the subject.
XIII
When he returned to the room, Willow was wearing his clothes. She was holding a book in her hands, concentrating on a particular page.
Something strange shook Spike to the core of his being. An alien feeling. He was dazed. She seemed to him endearingly fragile, almost ethereal.
<Like a little fairy...> The vampire blinked in perplexity. He suddenly noticed other bruises on the girl's arms and legs. This made him want to smash everything to pieces. But he did nothing.
"This is quite a collection, Spike." Willow said softly, "Paul Auster, James Joyce, Henry Miller...no Anne Rice, I see. And poetry too! Milton, Byron, Whitman, Shakespeare..." Her voice sing-songed the names. "Have you read all of these?"
"Most of them. I have a lot of time on my hands." There was no trace of irony in his voice.
"Wow. That's amazing..." She looked at the volume in her hands thoughtfully.
Spike didn't want to discuss books. He wanted to get her to talk, even though he had told her otherwise. He needed to know.
"Willow. Come here."
"Not now. I'm looking at the books." She sounded like an impatient child.
"Yes now, pet. Come here." He didn't like being kept waiting.
She pretended not to hear him. Suddenly a pair of arms picked her up by the waist. The book dropped from her hands, falling to the floor with a thud.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Spike dropped her onto the bed and sat down in an armchair. He waited for her to say something.
"What?! What is it?" Willow was exasperated.
"Are you gonna to tell me or not?"
"Tell you what?" She was confused.
"What happened. Before LA."
"Nothing happened." She averted her eyes from him. His gaze was burning a hole through her.
"So you don't wanna talk." He didn't sound upset.
"No, I don't." She was mutinously uncooperative.
Spike got up.
"OK, if you don't wanna talk, we'll we'll!" He lifted his eyebrows, spreading his arms theatrically.
"Drink? At nine in the morning?!"
"What better time to drink?" He was totally unconcerned. Even cheerful.
"What about the coffee?" She was talking to the walls.
<Fine, I'll drink. Might help me forget, anyway.> She was apprehensive. He was acting strange.
XIV
An array of bottles fell on the bed followed by a playful, little fur ball. Willow happily picked up the kitten, hugging it carefully. Spike sat down next to her, taking off his boots. He lazily stretched out on the mattress, head resting in one hand.
"Are you ready?" There was a gleam of challenge in his blue eyes.
Willow couldn't help smiling. "Ready."
An hour later, she was sprawled on the bed, helplessly giggling at the ceiling.
Spike was sober. He had drunk no more than two beers. His eyes rested on the girl's smiling profile. There was tension on his face.
Willow grew very pale all of a sudden. Something tragic took over her face at that moment. She turned onto her stomach suddenly. The smile had been wiped out completely by some unwelcome memory.
<Here we go. Bloody hell, I'm almost out of liquor...>
Her body was still, but her voice trembled when she spoke.
"I wish I hadn't drunk so much...if M-Mom were here..." She stopped for a second, as if seeing some image that fascinated her. "She was crushed in the car. Burnt alive. Or burnt dead...I don't know....HA!" She voice rose hysterically. Tears streamed down her face.
"D-Dad...d-drinks...l-like m-me! Oh...oh....oh G-God....I-I-I left h-him th-there a-ll b-by h-himself...h-he's p-probably d-dead by n-now!!!" She started sobbing uncontrollably, fists pounding on the white pillow. Sammy jumped off the bed, frightened out of its wits.
"I-I th-thought I-I c-could d-disappear h-here, j-just d-disappear...wh-whoring f-found m-me. The...the m-men w-were OK...s-some of th-them d-didn't, d-didn't h-hit. I-I l-let th-them d-do e-everything...it h-hurt. It HURT!!!" Hands covered her face. To Spike's utter horror, she started hitting herself.
"WILL!!!! STOP IT!!!!!!!" He grabbed her wrists with one hand and turned her onto her back with the other. She was trying to struggle, but it didn't last long. With one last effort she gave up, closing her eyes.
"Honey...don't do this to yourself..." He was vehement in his overwhelming desire to make her listen to him. His voice changed, anger creeping into it.
"You're doing this for nothing. NOTHING!!! You hear me?! She's dead, she's not gonna come back! And it wasn't your fault, baby. It wasn't you, love..." Anguish poured out of his words. He held the sobbing girl close to his chest until she relaxed. By then he couldn't bring himself to let go of her. Willow pulled away and lied back on the battered pillow, thoroughly drained.
Spike slid off the bed noiselessly and headed for the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water and then headed back into the room. Walking towards the bed, he stood next to it, looking at the girl's wide, green eyes. She looked heartbreakingly sad. When she saw him there, she reached out her hand to touch his cheek.
"So worried...", she whispered, "don't be. It's just...life." She dropped her hand and closed her eyes, sighing.
Spike's heart was bleeding. He had no strength left in him. He felt like crying and the feeling bewildered him.
He let himself drop into the armchair and stayed there, gazing at the sleeping young woman.
<So much pain.> Silence flooded the small, bare space. He rubbed his hands against his face and leaned back.
XV
During the next few weeks, Willow didn't speak a word. She accepted the clothes Spike had got for her, gazing at him in mute appreciation. She ate very little and slept even less.
She sometimes sat in a corner, staring in front of her. Or paced around the room like a caged, helpless animal. Or cried, hiding her face in her hands.
She was grieving. Over her mother, over her father, over her wasted days in LA
One day she woke up and there was nothing left to grieve over. A feeling of peace filled her soul. She lifted her eyes to Spike's figure, quietly reading "Leviathan". This was the first time in weeks that she actually registered his presence in the room. She wanted to do something for him. There was only one thing she could think of and she'd be happy to do it. It cost her nothing.
She got off the bed and moved towards the vampire.
"Spike?" Her voice sounded uncertain.
He closed the book with a thud and grinned radiantly up at her. "Yes, my love?"
"I w-want t-to thank you for...."
"Forget about it, pet. I have." His tone was final.
"No, no...I h-have to..."
She suddenly kneeled on the carpet in front of him and reached her trembling hands towards the zipper in his pants. For a moment, Spike was too startled to speak. His mouth opened but no sound came out. His hands covered the girl's in a crushing grip.
"Don't, pet." His voice wavered on the last word.
Willow lifted her head up sharply. She looked like a little girl caught doing mischief.
"Don't." He was firm. There was nothing more to say.
XVI
Willow wrenched her hands away from his and got up. Her face was scarlet. She turned her back on him and headed towards the bed. She sat there, staring at the hands on her lap, hair covering her flaming cheeks.
Spike took a deep breath and and got up, leaving the book on his chair. He hesitated for a few seconds, then walked over to the bed resolutely. He sat down next to Willow and tried to put his arms around her. She pulled away in an angry, violent movement.
"No!"
"Willow..."
"Why?! You don't want me?! Is that it???" She was pathetically desperate.
"It's not that, pet." He couldn't find the right words. His head was spinning. Lighting himself a cigarette, he gazed at its burning tip for a few minutes.
"I don't get it! I can do this for you, I don't mind! I'm good at it, oddly enough..." Her voice trailed off in a self-mocking tone. Yet her whole face pleaded with him.
"Willow! Just hear me out, pet..." He was pleading with her too."What I have to say may or may not surprise you. It no longer surprises me because I've had weeks to get used to the idea." He gazed at her intently, not trying to touch her. "I love you. More than I can say, more than I've even begun to contemplate. It's....a strange thing to feel, luv. It's always on my mind. It's in my sleep. It's in my body. It's in the words I speak and in the mirror... Instead of me." He stopped, grasping for words. "I have reached the point where I can't live without it. The feeling, I mean. It's like...blood. As warm, as vibrant, as thick, as rich, as thrilling...It's the only term of comparison that applies..." His tone was apologetic."The thing is, I don't know if you love me back. After Drusilla..." He almost winced at the name. "I just gave up. Her....betrayal...did me in. I lost faith in everything and moved here...to the city of the faithless. I don't know why I bothered to keep alive. It was just instinct, I guess. Like fucking someone as a means to oblivion." There was a bitter twist to his mouth. "When I laid eyes on you at that street-corner...something happened. I won't even try to explain it. You happened. I didn't know what hit me and I honestly didn't care. I wanted you. I want you. And the thing is, love...it's forever. Vampires love forever. Even when they go to hell and even when hell freezes over." He lowered his voice to a gentle whisper. "It's not something that humans understand. But you're different... I am hoping you know the feeling... Do you?" She could barely hear him now. His hands rested on hers and she didn't try to pull them away. She was drinking his words. Was this what it felt like to be happy? She spoke in a gentle, quiet tone.
"I...do. So very, very much. It doesn't...hurt me inside... It heals me, like you healed me. I adore you. More than anything or anybody else in my life, more than life itself. I will probably love you when I'm 100. Or when I'm dead and buried. By then, you'll have to find yourself somebody else..." She grinned at him. An ecstatic, blissful grin. Tears glimmered faintly on her eyelashes.
She was in his arms before the words were scarcely out of her mouth. They kissed. For a long, long time. And after that, they lied on the bed, unwilling to let the moment pass by. Willow's head rested on Spike's chest. He had spread out her red hair and was combing it with long, sensitive fingers. His other hand rested lightly on Willow's stomach. There was a peaceful light in his eyes as he looked at his young love. He smiled every two minutes.
"Willow, I want to us go back to Sunnyhell...erm...Sunnydale. Together."
"OK, Spike. I'd go anywhere with you. You know that..." Her voice sounded dreamy.
"You would? Even if I decided to camp out on the moon? Freezing temperatures, dusty air, no computers..." His eyes widened in mock-horror and his mouth opened as if screaming. He was having a blast just teasing her.
"Even then. Love." Willow looked very circumspect. But there was a devilish glint in her green eyes.
"Bloody hell! That's my word! Give it back!"
"Come and take it, Brit-boy!" She was giggling before he even started tickling her. His lips tried to get the term back from Willow's tongue. In vain. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"Love, love, love....love!" She sang the word in every possible way. And Spike kissed her in every possible way...
Epilogue
On Monday they packed up their things and left. They kissed one last time in the tiny apartment and then closed the door behind them. Willow held Sammy in her arms. She looked into its dark, solemn eyes and smiled happily. Sunnydale awaited them.
The End
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