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Bored Series - Alive and ...Well? -- by Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Description: The aftermath of Spike's assault on Xander, sequel to Sore Loser.
Disclaimer: Joss owns all. I own nothing. Story of my life.
Xander sat up slowly. His ass hurt, and he shifted to his side, resting his weight on one hip. His ribs had been taped. He shuddered to think by whose hands. His nose felt the size of a basketball. All things considered, he'd rather be dead.
"Xander," the familiar voice drifted through the dimly-lit basement.
"Are you okay?"
He raised his head as she stepped into the light.
"What the hell do you care?" he snapped. "Willow, go back to your British bastard, and leave me alone."
Willow sighed and shook her head, "If you hadn't thrown me against that wall--"
"Don't make excuses for him!" Xander winced as a spasm of pain shot through his side. "Did he tell you what he did to me?"
"No, but I found out anyway."
"I see. You're in tight with his lifeless ghouls, too," Xander spat.
"I didn't start this, Xander," she reminded him. "If all of you had left us alone, none of this would've happened."
"You bitch! Don't you blame this on me!"
"How many times did you tell me I knew what he is? You knew, too. You chose to cross him," she argued.
"He dragged me out of the fucking cemetery!"
"Actually, that was me. And I didn't drag you; you followed me," she reasoned calmly.
"We all thought Spike was ashes! We had no idea where you were or what had happened to you! I was trying to help you!"
"Again," she said. "It was your damned interference that forced us to go into hiding in the first place."
"I am not having this conversation with you," he said coldly. "Just leave me alone."
"Pet," Spike appeared behind Willow. "What are you doing down here?"
"Wasting my time," she answered.
"No doubt," he said, eyeing Xander briefly before returning his attention to Willow. "How are you feeling, luv?"
"I'm all right. A little sore," she answered.
He took her hand and squeezed it, "Not as sore as he is."
"Spike, please, don't--"
"Come on, baby. Let's get out of here," he tugged her towards the stairs.
"Willow, what's wrong?" Spike asked as she toyed with the food on her plate.
"I don't know," she sighed. "I feel badly about Xander."
"I know you do. When I saw what he'd done to you, I was furious. He could very well have killed you, pet. I'm not going to apologize," he said.
"I understand that. It's just--I don't know--he's hurting."
"Well, what the hell has he been doing to you for weeks? I've watched him jerk you around on a short line long enough. If you want out, baby, you tell me now," he demanded.
"I don't know what I want," she admitted. "I just know I'm miserable right now."
"Because of me," he added. "You were as much into this as I was, remember? Make up your mind, Willow. Do you want your sad little life back, or do you want me?"
"You really can be a bastard, you know that?" she told him.
"Never seemed to bother you up to this point. Why don't you go plant yourself under a street light? I'm sure the slayer or Angel will be more than happy to drag you back into their world. They've certainly had enough practice at it," Spike shoved back his chair and left the room.
Willow watched wordlessly as he walked away.
Willow paced the living room in silent frustration. The events of the past week played through her mind. Was Spike right? Did she want the old Willow back? Her mind kicked up memories and rolled them around in her brain like dust rolling off a thirsty road. Xander, shoving her aside for a date with, well, anyone. Buffy, pleading with her for help on a life-or-death exam. Giles, impatiently prodding her to ferret out some obscure bit of information. And Oz--sweet, loyal Oz--and his look of disappointment when he'd broken in on the kiss she'd shared with Xander during the confusion of trauma.
She'd tried so hard to be everything they needed her to be. Her needs had been of no importance, either to herself or to them. That wasn't right, was it? A bit of selflessness was good for the soul, but constant self-denial, how character-building could that be?
After all these years, the person she was, the person she wanted to be, had been encouraged to assert itself. Spike reveled in her intelligence, her wit, the courage she'd never even known she possessed. Buffy, Angel, Xander, all of them, had done their utmost to squash this blossoming confidence. They'd shackled her, dragged her away, admonished her repeatedly, in an all-out battle to slap Willow back into the good little mouse they knew and used. She couldn't go back to that. She just couldn't.
She found Spike lying across the bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.
He turned his head to her, "What?"
"I'm sorry. I was wrong."
His icy anger melted, and he reached out a hand to her. She took it and climbed onto the bed to sit beside him.
"I've never liked to see people hurting. I know you did what you did because you were protecting me. I don't want to be that old Willow again. I've never liked her very much."
Tears blurred Willow's eyes and slipped slowly down her face. Spike groaned and pulled her down to him, kissing them away.
"I'm sorry, Spike," she repeated.
"It's all right, baby," he smiled. "I've made a discovery of my own while I've been lying here."
"You have? What is it?" curiosity rang in her voice.
"I don't like fighting with you. That's pretty amazing coming from someone who's spent his entire unexistence winning a reputation for fighting," he confessed.
"That isn't all you've won a reputation for," she told him as her hands unfastened his pants and drew out his cock.
"Care to elaborate, pet?" his eyes danced with amusement, and his cock twitched in anticipation at her touch.
"Nope. You know what they say about actions and words," she said before his mouth dropped down to hers and stopped all thoughts of conversation.
The End
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