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Beyond Words -- by Luisa
Rating: G
Description: Willow goes to extremes to help Spike.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters.
Great big darkness dotted with shiny points. Spike gazed at Sunnydale's sky wondering why it had shrunk so considerably over such a short period of time. That is, chronological time. In his case, it was more like years. Days that felt like years. That injured and maimed him like years. The blood in his veins was an animal's. Poor quality all around...didn't pump his heart the right way. It was stiller than it had ever been. Smoking held some of its old, secular charm nonetheless. Spirals of greyish smoke disappearing into another realm before he could actually grasp them in sight. Spike's blue eyes blinked at the silence of the moment. He was close to understanding the nature of being alone. How a minute could carve dire wounds into a soulless body. Stretching out his legs, he leaned tired muscles against the worn back of a park bench. This is the first day of the rest of your unlife...how depressingly true. An unlife that felt frighteningly a lot like human life. He gasped inwardly at the change that was overcoming him, tearing through veins, filling his centre with something utterly alien and menacing. Vampires don't feel this way. It's impossible...I owe no one nothing. They owe me. Spike reached the lighter to the tip of his cigarette. It reminded him of his first night in town two years before, how he had felt king. Usurper of his rightful place as Sunnydale's grisly ruler. And next to him his princess, wrapped in a silky dress...ailing. Spike's face contorted into a grimace of pain. He'd done his best for her, he'd picked her up from the abyss...she'd tossed him aside. Spike asked himself where his old love dwelled. Drusilla felt more alive than ever inside his mind.
A small voice startled him. Jumping up unthinkingly, he scanned the dimness. Nothing. Spike was not one to wait for the unexpected. Lunging forwards, he toppled something light that screamed and tumbled helplessly. "Spike! It's *me*...!!!" The redhead was scared and breathless, the vampire aghast. Rolling aside, he immediately got up. "What the *hell* do you think you're doing?! Creeping about...like something *undead*, for Christ's sake!" His voice held nothing but irritation and barely suppressed violence. Willow winced on the ground. His tone was a concrete wall preventing her passage. She slowly got up, sighing quietly. Spike wasn't looking at her. Willow sighed again. "Look, Spike, I just-" She frowned in annoyance. He seemed to have developed the weirdest fascination with her legs all of a sudden. She growled, causing the vampire to stare at her in some discomfort.
"Red, your leg's scratched. You're-uh...-*bleeding*. Get away from me.", he flung abruptly, turning away from her. Willow miserably gazed down, noticing a trickle of hot blood on skin that was beginning to sting a little. Spitting into her hand, she wiped away the offending liquid, returning her focus to the vampire's shaking back. Spike was fighting his whole being, unsuccessfully endeavouring to erase flashes of Willow's grazed knee from his over-stimulated brain. Willow didn't know how to approach him. He was a coded reality, someone she had no label for, no words to explain. Spike turned just as she had given up hope of communicating. Willow glanced at him shyly, expecting another outburst. Silence roped them both like a tangible force. Neither knew what to say to the other. To Spike this was worse than anything else. Loneliness was a piece of cake compared to a string of awkward silences. He sat down on the bench, refusing to acknowledge her nervous figure in the background. Willow searched her brain for magic. "Spike, I think we should talk." The vampire gazed at the tip of his cigarette for a few pregnant seconds. "What about?" Willow inched closer to the bench, lowering herself next to the morose creature she was trying to help. "You. And us...I mean...I-I-uh..." Spike sighed angrily. "*What*?! Spit it out, will you?!" The shout cut through the night air like a whip. Willow jumped, hairs bristling at the back of her neck. Green eyes filled with momentary tears, which she was quick to hide from his biting stare. "This can't go on. You're not making the situation easier on yourself...or on *us*, for that matter. You go around, lashing out at people and-" Before she could finish, he was no longer there. He had left the bench and stormed off a short distance, brushing seething hands against blonde hair. Willow could hear him swear. "Look, little girl. I don't know who sent you and what they think they can gain from this, but...go home. I've had it with you lot and you're coming here just makes a sodden day worse." Willow blanched, mouth opening in shock. Deformed sounds clanged in her mind nerves as she grappled with sense and meaning. Clutching the edges of her skirt for control, she gaped at Spike for a second before attempting speech. "Nobody sent me. You're being a jerk! I'm here cause I wanna help someone. You, Buffy, me, I don't know. Everyone. This grudge you have against us just drives me up the wall! I'm trying to-" Spike snapped. "*Help*! You've bloody said that already! You're the caring type! Hey, let's go out and help some poor sod today! Why not *Spike*? Hell, he can't bite! And we *soooo* wanna *help*! Well, guess what? *STUFF* IT! I don't need anyone. Not you, not them! Got that?!" His body shuddered with wrath and bitterness. Willow saw this, but said nothing. Gazing at him silently, she focused her full energy on getting through to him without words. Spike froze. "What are you doing...?" A flicker of a sad smile stroked her lips for a second. His mind was like a dug-out minefield. Jagged, broken and desperate. It reminded her of a far off wasteland that had once been vivid and grand. It was desolate now. The smile died. Waking up from her transe, Willow's green eyes searched his face for an entrance. Spike didn't move. An icy glare told her that she hadn't succeeded.
"What the hell are you *playing* at?!!!" Taking a few steps towards the bench, he grabbed her by the shoulders, fingers pressing into her bones. The next minute she was free and he was on his knees, fighting off excruciating pain. Willow kneeled beside him and touched his head lightly. Spike flinched. "*Don't*!" Misery. She got up and headed back to her harbour, dropping onto it tiredly. She felt completely defeated. A stray tear rolled down her cheek before she hastily dried it with her sleeve. Tears had never helped anyone. Spike recovered. He looked tall and lost against a maze of constellations. "Spike, please listen to me. I'm trying to make you see how wrong this is. We can help each other...*please*..." Soft voice trailed off at the sight of his thorough apathy. "You want to help me? Fine." Stomping over towards her, he stood there, gazing at her upturned features sombrely. "Either let me drink you or..." White teeth caught his bottom lip for a moment, before a strange shadow glazed blue eyes. Willow guessed what he had in mind. Desperation took over. "No! We are *not* gonna sl-sleep t-together, alright?! It's not gonna happen, you hear me?!!" Spike shrugged. "You might as well clear off then and leave me alone." He turned his back on her once more. An image raged inside Willow's mind. It gleamed hopelessly, but she was beyond the appearance of things. She wanted solutions. Getting up, she staggered towards him at a snail's pace, heart hammering in her chest. Just as she was near, he turned on his heel, fists clenched. "You're *really* out of line, Red! I'm this close to losing it and--" Willow looked at him imploringly. She'd burnt all her other bridges. "Spike, if I let you...d-drink from m-me...will you tr-trust me--I mean *us*? Will that satisfy you?" Her voice choked on the words, brain reeling from the danger of the offer. Spike was confounded. Drawing back, he eyed her warily. "Are you joking? Cause it's not funny! At *all*!" Willow shook her head. "No, it's not a joke. *Believe* me...! I'll make you a deal: I let you drink from me--without killing, if that's OK--and you accept us once and for all. And help us, cause we kinda *need* it..." Spike burst out laughing. "Are you for *real*?!" Grimacing in resentment, Willow suddenly took out a knife from a pocket in her parka. The thing scared her witless, she could scarcely look at it. Before Spike noticed her gesture, she swiftly slid it across her right wrist sideways, moaning weakly. Vivid red blood splashed inside her sleeve just as she quickly pulled it upwards and held her arm towards the doubting vampire. Spike's eyes widened at the sight. The girl grew paler and paler, batlling against a storm of panic. "*DO* IT *NOW*!!! BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND...!", she screamed wildly, drawing near him. Spike fell on his knees and clutched her wrist, drinking from her veins. Wrapping another arm around her knees, he supported her just as she was about to collapse. Willow felt herself fade away. Life was disappearing. Gasping for air, she tried to push him back. "Spike...", she begged, voice inaudible. The vampire didn't stop. Willow trembled all over, face covered in salty weeping. Seizing his shoulder in utter agony, she cried out. "Spike...!" Letting go of her, he backed away like a frightened animal, brushing hands across lips, eyes burning with life. Willow dropped on the ground, half-dead. Her lungs felt heavy with the effort to breathe. She lay on the earth a moment, eyes fluttering open as Spike silently inched closer and sat her up, an arm behind her back. "Breathe in deeper.", he commanded. Reaching inside his duster, he took out a white piece of cloth which he proceeded to wrap around her wounded wrist. Tightly. Willow winced as pain shot through her entire arm."*Ow*...!" Spike glanced at her incredulously. "*Ow*? First you slash your bloody wrist without so much as batting an eyelid and now it's "Ow"?" Amused shock coloured every word. Willow's bright eyes flew to his profile exultantly. Her mouth opened to ask something, but she quickly closed it in doubt. Spike had never looked more perplexed. "You must be nuts. Totally cracked-up. If the Slayer finds out about this, she'll--" Willow sighed. "She won't hear it from me." Glancing upwards, she smiled anxiously. "We have a *deal*." Spike smirked. "Yeah, I guess we do." Helping her to stand, he carefully led her towards the bench. Willow was struggling with an odd yearning to ask questions. "Spike...what did it feel like?" Childlike green eyes blazed against his own. He almost flinched. "Smashing." He couldn't look at her. Willow frowned in a daze. "I felt *dead*. Like I was dying away..." Her companion laughed briefly. "Yeah. That about sums it up. For you, that is. I felt alive." His eyes shone with the memory of ecstasy. "You taste like...*nothing* I ever had before." He turned to look at her, noticing a crimson wave of embarassment as it made its way across her neck and face. Lifting a hand, he stroked it across her eerily warm cheek, catching a few strands of red hair. His mind was miles away from guessing what his heart was up to. Willow felt his lips on hers. When she opened her eyes, he was grinning wickedly. Gone were rage and anguish. Blue eyes flickered with gratification. Taking out his packet of cigarettes, he offered her one. Willow accepted, studying what seemed to her as the new side of Spike. "Don't swallow the smoke. Or you'll choke. Again.", he advised, voice sardonic. Turning sideways, he lit it for her, eyes roaming over her delicate face. Willow blushed deeper. Spike laughed and drew away. Taking the cigarette with sensitive fingers, she took a drag, exhaling it daintily as her wrist flicked backwards and rested on her knee in a graceful movement. Spike gaped. It was Willow's turn to chuckle. "Bloody hell, you've done this before!" The girl shrugged merrily. "Once or twice. At Xander's." Something lurched inside Spike's chest. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. As Willow quietly smoked, pupils glued to the stars, he asked himself the meaning of her. His mind hovered on her wrist for a second, before springing to her peaceful profile. She was beyond his experience. 126 years of being unprepared. The taste of her was on his tongue, the feel of her skin under his fingers...the scent of her hair and lips. He longed to have her beside him, close by, fastened to him. Willow finished smoking and threw the cigarette away, smiling her thanks. Her head felt slightly less woozy and she could breathe normally, which was something she'd never thought she'd miss so badly. Stretching languidly, she glanced at him. "Maybe we should get going." Spike eyed her soberly, as if hesitating to speak. Shrugging, he stood up. "You do know what this means, don't you?" Willow was puzzled. "Uh...no...?" Spike turned and grinned. Willow was blinded by the sheer brilliance of his smile, which made her feel more flustered than ever. "Means we're tied together. It's a bond." Willow gazed at his resolute expression, wondering what was going through his head. "Bond...? Spike, this is a one-time-only deal. *OK*...?" Spike waved away her words. "Yeah. But it doesn't matter. We're still one." Not giving Willow the chance to contradict, he pulled her off the bench unceremoniously and strode home. She stared at him sideways, heart pounding in bewilderment.
Beyond words...he was beyond words.
The End
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