~Part: 11~
Oz landed on his bed, a free fall that was exhilarating to a guy that was normally quite contained. The huge smile on his face was not an oddity, he smiled often, but the surge of pleasure behind it was much more infrequent.
It was her. He’d know her voice anywhere and could filter it out in crowded room, picking up on her conversation easily.
Now he knew where his girlfriend was hiding and would go get her soon. Meanwhile he had other things to consider, like why had a notoriously evil vampire answered her phone the night before.
Oz was not in the know. He wasn’t aware of all the changes that had occurred in the life of one William the Bloody, but he had heard him enough times to recall that accent.
They had two more days before a break. The moon would be full soon and they never booked gigs on the three days surrounding that event. All the band members and their manager knew the scoop, some even thought it was cool and on one drunken night Oz had even changed for them, melting back to his human state quickly before the beast’s lust for blood took him over and he hurt someone.
He was in control and hoped that he always would be, but the situation was unstable at times so he took no chances and was unwavering in this regard. What would his life be like if he transformed on stage in front of thousands of people? Some would shrug it off, say it was drugs, unable to accept something they didn't understand. But there were surely enough out there who believed and those are the type that would hunt him down.
Either to kill him or to be made like him.
Either reason scared the crap out of him so he sometimes appeared doggedly stubborn in his position. He did not care. He did what he did to protect others as well as himself.
Knowing exactly what he would be doing during the break, he got up, sat at the desk and opened his laptop.
~~~~~~~
Dinner had been light, yet delicious. She was not a great cook, but knew a few recipes to get by. Spike had been very pleased by the effort and was so attentive to her as she went about preparing and serving the meal that she felt oddly cared for and she took deliberate notice of how passionate he was about … everything. From his dislike of her co-worker and boss to his joy for reading poetry, which she found in his things by accident, he was full of opinions and observations and lust for so many subjects. She found it intriguing and was drawn in by his brightness, made more evident because of the obvious darkness in him as well. The contrasts were dizzying, yet massively alluring and she discovered as she watched him sip his wine with unabashed pleasure that she was falling in serious like with this man.
That he was not a man exactly, but a demon with the heart of a lion and the anger of a god, made the whole package that much more desirable. She even began to let go of that invisible “Buffy’s property” label that was so evident to her, if not to him.
“What are you thinking, Red?” Spike asked, amused, yet curious as well. She had been staring, starry-eyed. He was accustomed to that look from most women and not a few men and had even seen it on Willow’s face a few times, but not for this long and not recently.
She smiled at him. “What? Oh!” The blush crept in and his curiosity jumped to huge levels. “I was just wondering about something.”
He smirked, unable to suppress the demon in him enough to keep it from appearing. “What’s that then?”
Taking another sip, his lips slid over the glass and she was suddenly jealous. “I wondered…” she started, deciding to take a chance. “What it would be like to be that glass.”
That was more than he expected from her and for a fraction of a second the man in him was speechless. Yet his other half was always ready for this sort of encounter.
“Would you like me to drink from you, pet? Sip and appreciate you like the fine wine that you are?”
Her trip into forwardness was over and she stammered something incomprehensible.
“You know I want to, Red. Always have,” he told her as he held her gaze.
And she was caving, not in the I-want-you-to-drink-my-blood sense, but in the I-want-you-period sense.
“Spike, stop messing around and kiss me. Please?”
Her eyebrow went up, askance, and she was full of worry and self consciousness, but he liked it, wasting no time on more silly banter when his mouth could be full of Willow.
~Part: 12~
He gave her time. Time to back out, pull away, turn her face so that he only got a taste of her smooth sweet cheek, but she didn’t do any of those things. She leaned in and opened up to him like the freshest flower blooming in spring’s bright, new warmth.
Warmth, heat, inferno. She was all of these things. As he delved into her, exploring and savoring her flavors, she moaned into his mouth, a whimpering, but deep and needful cry accented by thin fingers that gripped him tightly.
Her heart was pounding, a passionate march loud to his ears, and he ground against her, matching the rhythm so easily.
And this was just the beginning of their dance.
Pulling away for air, her lips tingling and plump, she panted, eyes wild and large and all-consuming as she stared into his. “Spike,” she breathed, marveling at his own raw and slightly mad gaze.
Instead of an answer his lips crushed hers and they were lost again. Twisting, she maneuvered until straddling his lap, grinding down onto a hardness that she had never gotten used to with Oz, but felt more than willing to accommodate with the blond. He thrust up, matching her movement, making her eyes roll up in her head as she found his lips again, needing to be closer to him.
Spike wanted to fuck her. Badly and soon. “Willow … luv,” he groaned as he stood holding her in place, letting her feel how much he wanted her.
Wrapping her legs around him, the air left her as her back hit the wall. “Please Spike,” she panted, writhing and hot, her hands caressing his arms, vaguely in awe of just how strong he actually was.
The shrill sound of a phone ringing startled them out of their prurience. Spike halted, mid-grind, his tongue still dancing over her pulse as it slammed under the pale, soft skin of her neck.
“It’s your cell,” she rasped, her voice slightly cracking, too laced with lust.
“Sod the phone,” he growled, but was backing off even as he said the words. He was going to fuck her, pregnant and rebounding as she was, he was going to shag her stupid and probably ruin the best thing in his unlife of late. The ringing continued and the phrase saved by the bell never had more meaning. He stepped away from her, letting her down gently.
“You’d better get that,” she whispered and swallowed hard, her tongue dashing out to lick her lips. On impulse he captured them again, the kiss quick but deep and meaningful all the same. He pulled away for real this time and she was swimming, adrift with the loss.
From the ringtone he knew it was Angel and he answered it, annoyed beyond reason. “What the bloody hell do you want?”
Unfazed, Angel replied in a calm voice, “You know, you really should be in a better mood considering I’m the one paying for everything out there.”
“Bite me,” Spike answered, looking for his smokes so he could have a reason to take this conversation outside.
“As soon as you’re back home I will, believe me,” Angel grinned and Spike could almost see it, grinning back over the lines despite his desire to blame his sire for everything, especially the magnificent case of blue-balls he was developing.
“So why are you calling? Ah!” He found them and spared Willow a glance and a wave as he walked out the kitchen door and onto the small back porch. Lighting up, he sat on the steps, the slim white cylinder crackling nicely as he got the first and best dose of nicotine.
“You won’t call and I wanted to check on Willow.” It was an excuse and they both knew it, but the blond let it slide. “How did her appointment go?”
“It’s tomorrow. Write it on your bleeding calendar and call back then, yeah?” He dragged on the cigarette, his elbows resting on his knees, the silver chain he always wore glinting in the near full-moon light.
“Oh. Well, how is she anyway?”
Spike rolled his eyes. This really meant how are you two getting along and you better not be shagging her. “She’s been branded with the Scarlet Letter,” he provoked.
Angel bit. “God Spike, I told you not to …”
“Don’t get your tightie-whities in a bunch. Some old bitty is making assumptions based on pure conjecture. I’ve not tasted her forbidden fruits, Daddy.”
“Do not call me that.” That was Angelus’ thing and far too twisted for Angel to fathom.
“Fine, Peaches.”
Angel sighed, resigned to the fact that he would never get the vampire to call him Angel unless he wanted something or had done something.
“All quiet there? No unwanted visitors?”
“Nah, no way the wolf can find her, right? You’ve been careful, Mr. Detective.”
~~~~~~~~
Willow listened to the one-sided banter between the two vampires, making up the other side of the conversation to entertain herself while she cleaned up the kitchen. Best to keep her mind occupied and not think of what had almost happened. She was going to sleep with Spike. And she still wanted to.
“Oh Goddess,” she whimpered as ghostly caresses and phantom kisses left her feeling like he was still there in her arms.
Again her mind worked around to the guilt thing. Spike was Buffy’s love. And if she knew how to find him Willow had no doubt her friend would be here basking in his intensity.
She washed the pots she had used to make dinner and dried them with a towel before putting them away in the cupboard under the oven. With a quick perusal of the room she was satisfied and went back through the living room and to her bedroom, living Spike to his privacy.
Something was different about those two. They argued still and Spike went out of his way to be annoying, but it felt forced, like they were past this but clung to its familiarity for some unknown reason. She would ask Spike about it later, not expecting an answer, but planning on using a little emotional blackmail if he balked her.
In her bedroom, on the back of the door was a full length mirror. The only one in the house save the one in the bathroom over the sink. She stood in it sideways and pulled up her shirt.
The swelling was not too bad, although it was getting uncomfortable in her jeans these past few days, but in a few more weeks there would be no denying her condition. She ran her hand over her belly, feeling the difference, and wondered how long it would be before the baby started kicking. It was moving a little now, weird squiggly motions that made her think of literal butterflies.
“I can hear it, you know.”
She almost jumped out of her skin. “Spike! Don’t do that!” She shoved her shirt down, then felt goofy for it, considering what they were about to do.
He was standing in the doorway, unsure why she hadn’t noticed him, but sheepish over it anyway. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Red.”
“That’s okay.” She dismissed that particular sin and zoned in on what he said to scare her. “Can you really hear the baby?” she asked, eyes bright with amazement.
“Well, yeah.”
“Oh wow! I … Is it a boy or a girl?”
He got a strange look on his face then masked it as he walked up to her and dropped to his knees. “I hear your heartbeat, Willow, pounding sweetly, talking to my demon in a language only it understands. And then I hear another heart, pattering rapidly but soft, tiny, growing. It’s bloody marvelous, Red.” He glanced up at her, his blue eyes capturing hers, making her start to sweat.
“But I can’t hear any baby bits swinging in the wind, so I guess we’ll have to wait for the sonogram tomorrow to know what it is.”
~Part: 13~
Willow was in a foul mood. The doctor’s visit went well enough; she was fifteen weeks along and the baby was healthy, but the obstetrician was of the same ilk as Millie. He all but told her that she was living in sin and had even called Spike a low-life womanizer.
He also couldn't tell her the sex of the baby. He said it was too early to see with any degree of certainty, but that they would try again during her next appointment which was scheduled two weeks out. She thought it was because he was a lousy doctor and an old coot.
Spike was more amused by him than anything, except for the fact that it upset Willow. Somewhere along the line he knew the girl would have to toughen up a bit and not care what others thought of her. Until then, she was susceptible to being troubled by things she could not control or change.
“He had a lot of nerve,” she pouted, her arms crossed above her slightly protruding belly. They were waiting at the drugstore while the pharmacist filled her prescriptions. One was for iron and the other was a prenatal vitamin to be taken daily.
“Are you still in a snit over that old geezer?” Spike asked, itching to go outside and smoke, but not willing to leave her side.
“No … yes. He had no right. He doesn’t even know us. I picked a doctor two towns over and they still act like it's 1950 or something.” She sighed and slumped in the chair.
“You still going in to work later?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Yeah, but not until two a.m. I switched with Lana.” The fact that Millie was getting off at two a.m.did not need mentioning.
“Katherine McCormick,” the clerk called.
Willow jumped up and got her bag of goodies while Spike paid. They walked out together, her hand in his.
“Thanks,” she whispered, knowing he could hear.
~~~~~~~~~
“What are you doing, dude?”
Devon stood in his doorway, curiously observing Oz pack. He had his suitcases by the door and was just checking his room over to make sure nothing was forgotten.
“Hey. I’m taking a trip. I think I found her.”
“Oz …”
The smaller man held up a hand. “I know. And I’m not missing any gigs, okay? All my stuff is being shipped to Seattle and I’ll be there in three days. We’ll be there,” he corrected while tugging on his backpack.
Stepping into the room, Devon sat on the small dresser, his back against the mirror. “What if she doesn’t want to come?” That earned him a glare. “I’m just saying, dude … She’s gone to major extremes to stay hidden. From you.”
He was struck by the thought that his friend had done something to hurt Willow. It was not the first time he felt this way, but he never voiced it, not wanting to jeopardize their friendship, or the band, for something that was just a theory in his mind. But the more he let himself consider it, the more it made sense.
She was afraid. It was why she left so abruptly, and why she went to ground.
“What happened?” There. It was out.
Oz was not following him. “To what?”
“You and Willow. What did you do?”
Now it was time for the werewolf to frown. “Nothing, not really. It was just a misunderstanding.”
Devon was shaking his head, feeling awkward for allowing himself to get involved to any degree with anyone’s love life save his own. “Oops, I said I’d be there at 7 and it’s 8. That’s a misunderstanding. Hiding for nearly three months … that’s something different.”
Oz picked up the shoulder bag that held his laptop and such, stepping to his friend with purpose. “What are you saying, Devon?”
It was odd how forceful Oz could be at times. Devon attributed it to the beast dwelling inside him. He understood that Oz was in control, but he wondered if, when with Willow, he lost some of that and she bore the brunt of his savagery.
“I’m saying that if she has a reason to be gone, let her stay gone.” He hopped off the dresser and slipped out, not looking back as he spoke. “Don’t be late for rehearsal in Seattle.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Willow struggled through the front door carrying two bags of groceries, a gust of cold wind forcing its way inside before she kicked the door shut.
“Spike!”
He came from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Did you get everything?” he asked and took the burden from her, easily negotiating the weight. He kissed her forehead and then her cheek, resisting the maddening urge to drift to the left and capture her lips.
“Yeah almost,” she whispered, then more forcefully, “Although I got a lot of weird looks when I asked for some Wheatabix. And before you ask, no they didn’t have it.”
Spike began emptying the bags. The beer was consigned to the refrigerator with a few detouring to the freezer. “Ta anyway, pet.”
It was Sunday. Superbowl Sunday and he had a full day of beer and American football, weak as it was, planned. Mostly he enjoyed the commercials.
She joined him in the kitchen, helping as he put together a tray of snacks and appetizers for the two of them. Looking at all the food, her tummy started to growl.
“Won’t be long, Red.”
“I hate that you can hear everything,” she complained.
“No, you don’t.”
She grinned at him and pulled him into a hug. He dropped the knife and turned into her, wrapping his arms around her before dipping in for a kiss.
“I like this, though,” she told him as soon as her lips were free. “A lot.”
He kissed her again, deeper, full of promise. “Yeah, pet. Me too.”
~Part: 14~
The bus ride had taken a little over and hour and aside from the New York bound female impersonator that decided to entertain them all with a rousing round of My Way, it was uneventful.
He disembarked alone. No one else was finding their way to the wonderful little town of Buckshye and at first glance Oz immediately understood the draw. The place wasn’t even on two out of three of his maps, and if he hadn’t verified directions on Mapquest, he might have doubted its existence.
Sunset was a few hours off, but it was already colder than any night he could recently remember already. Off to the left and down the road was a patch of hotels and motels. He shifted his load and began treading through the snow, determined to get a room, and maybe find out if anyone knew Willow.
~~~~~~
He was feeling mellow. Very mellow.
The game was nearly over, not that he actually cared who won, but the Pats were ahead so he cheered for them.
Her presence got the attention of his demon, while he stayed focused on the game and his peaking high. He was nine beers and four glasses of whisky in and felt really … nice. Not drunk or anywhere near it, but relaxed and free.
“What’s the score?” she asked, sitting down next to him. At halftime she decided that football really was not her game and left to take a shower.
He pulled on her, encouraging her to settle into him. “24 to 21, New England.” He was smiling.
“You’re just happy cuz it’s got England in the name.”
“It’s as good a reason as any, right?”
She shrugged. “I think you’re supposed to like them ‘cuz they are your home team.”
“Well I’m from England so this is as close as it bloody gets.”
“I guess.”
She was melancholy which, considering her recent mood swings, was not so very strange, but this seemed less hormonal and more genuine. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
Nodding, she snuggled deeper, amazed at how good she felt just being close to him. For the past couple of hours she had been on edge. It started while she was watching the game, making her antsy and unable to really focus. She was a distraction for Spike, who was obviously enjoying it, so she excused herself to take a shower. The warm water did a lot to relax her, but while dressing the feeling came back … something was about to happen.
Yet nothing was happening. Spike was nearly goofy with satisfaction and everything was perfect. She felt stupid, like she was looking for trouble.
“Red.” He shifted, holding her away from him so that he could see her face. “What is it?” She was sending out signals, arcing flares of fear that had him chomping at the bit.
“I don’t know. Nothing. I just feel funny.”
“Is it the baby?”
Instinctively, his hand covered the small swell of her belly. She shook her head.
“No, I feel okay. I don’t know. Maybe it’s hormones … or the vitamins,” she offered smiling now as he rubbed small circles over her stomach. The fabric of her shirt separated them and she was grateful for it. The image of his hand, smooth, hard and powerful, caressing her skin made her shiver in a decidedly good way.
“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice dropping sweetly.
She grinned, knowing what she wanted as her hand came up to play in the short silky locks at the nape of his neck. “I am …” she nodded. “Very, very cold, but I’m thinking of how you can warm me up.” And then she pulled him down to meet her lips.
~~~~~~
Everyone that Oz came across said that they didn’t know Willow. Yet as he sat in the booth staring into the cup of black swirling liquid, he knew that some of them were lying. Her scent hit him as soon as he strolled in the door.
In fact, he was pretty certain that he had picked up her trail and had been following it subconsciously somewhere between the restaurant and the motel.
She had been in here. Recently and a lot. She was everywhere, driving him crazy.
The waitress, a young girl with bright blue eyes and black hair, came back to his table glancing at him expectantly.
“Oh, um, I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries.” He handed her the menu that he hadn’t really needed. He always got the same thing in this type of place.
She was staring at his hair. This week it was a bright orange and would remain that way until it was time to film their next video.
“Is that hard to get out?” she asked, thinking he looked familiar.
“You mean the color? No. I just usually have it dyed another color. Black is the hardest to change.”
She kept staring and Oz got that strange feeling that always came before …
“Ohmygod!” It was all one word. “Oh. My. God. You’re that guy from that group … oh Wild, right?”
He smiled. It was nice to be recognized. It meant they were going places. “Yeah,” he extended his hand to shake hers. “I’m Oz.”
She took his hand and shook it, releasing it with a squeal. “This is just … wow. Okay,” she pulled her act together and began writing on her pad. “A cheeseburger and fries.”
“Medium, if that’s okay.” He liked his meat a little on the rare side, for obvious reasons, but a lot of places were reluctant to cook ground beef that way. It was considered unsafe unless you had something evil lurking inside you that needed satisfying … one way or another.
She gave him a knowing glance. “I’m make sure it’s not cooked too long.”
She left the table after that, her steps springy, and Oz couldn’t help but smile. The girl, Amelia her name tag read, was a little younger than him. He wondered if Amelia, fan that she was, would be a little more open about a certain redhead.
There were a few other tables that she checked on before making her way back to him, but when she did she was all bubbly and giddy. “So why are you here in Buckshye of all places? You looking to shoot a video or something?” she asked, excited and eyes sparkling at the prospect.
Shaking his head, he replied, “No, just … I’m here to see a friend.”
“You got a friend here?” She frowned, wondering who could be holding out. She grew up in this town and knew everyone and no one had ever mentioned knowing someone from the up and coming band. “Who? I’m so jealous.”
He laughed. She was an energetic creature and he was sure he could take her back to the motel after her shift, or maybe for her lunch, but pushed the tempting idea away. He was here for someone else. “She moved here not too long ago. Willow.”
A scowl of concentration crept over her pretty features as she took careful inventory of her town. “Willow. Ain’t no Willow here. Only new people in town is that blond guy, Spike and Katy of course.”
Spike and Katy. He managed to keep his composure. “Katy. She wouldn’t happen to be a short redhead?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Oh, Willow is Katy’s middle name,” he lied smoothly.
She planted her hands on her hips, pretending to be angry or maybe she actually was . “Gosh, that girl’s got the dreamiest guys. I’m just gonna kill her for not telling me about you!”
He took a sip of his coffee and muttered too low for her to hear, “Get in line.”
~Part: 15~
It had been surprisingly easy to get the directions to Willow’s place after that. Amelia was trusting and sweet, yet not as ready to have a fling with him as he had originally surmised. The small amount of flirting that he did in order to get information was well received, but she was not jumping at the chance for more.
He was not used to that, not lately, but found he liked it in this girl. Paying, he gave Amelia his email address so that he could stay in touch. He wanted to invite her to a concert when they came close to the area. She was thrilled and assured him that she would protect his privacy and email him soon.
Outside it was dark and freezing. Wind whipped up around his ears and he had an urge to change just for the warmth a full coat of fur provided. It was a silly notion and he shook his head, dislodging it as he set out in the direction Amelia told him to go.
There was no scent of her anymore. The air was too frigid and she had been away from the area he was now walking through for too long, but he found the house easily and strolled up the walk.
~~~~~
“Spike …”
Her head fell back as he mouthed her neck, his tongue slipping over her skin, taking in the salty sweetness.
“Yeah, luv,” he mumbled between kisses, the sound going straight to her center as she squirmed beneath him. His hands were cool, but oddly lit a fire in her everywhere they touched.
Abruptly, he sat up and stilled, cocking his head as if listening, then shifted to get up from the couch, leaving her feeling cold and alone.
“Come back … what’s wrong?” she called to him, her hands brushing his sides as he pulled away, and then leaned back in quickly.
“Someone’s here,” he whispered.
Her eyes went wide. “Who?”
Spike rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what he was sensing, but at a loss for how the damned creature had found them. “You know who,” he snapped, not angry at her, but at the situation.
Buttoning his shirt as he padded silently to the door, he motioned for her to go in the kitchen. He felt him, right on the other side, and wondered if the wolf was doing the same.
He opened the door and stared at Oz, who was standing on the porch.
“Spike,” he said, immediately assaulted by the scent of his girl as it lingered around the vampire.
“You must be Oz.” He remembered the little shit from the warehouse where he had been having a fine day of Angelus-torturing and wanted to call him one of the many less flattering nicknames he had concocted for the boy, but refrained for Willow’s sake.
“Yeah, that’d be me.” He stood for a few more seconds, trying to see past the blond, and when it became obvious that he was not going to be invited inside, he spoke again. “I came to see Willow. She’s here.”
Not a question.
“Willow’s not receiving visitors, mate. I’ll tell her you stopped by.” He moved to close the door, but Oz put his hand against it and Spike halted, his annoyance level quickly jumping to dangerous. “What?”
“I came a long way …”
“Yeah and she ran a long way.” Now he just wanted to beat the boy for being stupid. “It’s a huge bloody hint to be left alone.”
“Look, I’m not going anywhere till I see her.”
Spike smiled, eyes blazing. “Is that right?”
“I know about your chip, Spike.”
Spike chuckled. “Oh boy, I guess my secret’s out. I best step aside then.” And he did, to Oz’s surprise … until he tried to walk inside. Then the vampire blocked the way again and a powerful hand pushed him back a few paces with no effort. It also hurt. The human stared at him, puzzled.
“Maybe it don’t work on dogs. Or maybe it’s something else. Go. Home.”
Oz, angry now, rushed back at Spike, hands slamming into his chest ineffectively, struggling to gain entrance, but only testing the blond’s nearly non-existence patience. “Willow!” he yelled when he couldn’t get past the vampire. “You’re keeping her against her will,” he accused, panting wildly as he tried to control his temper. The wolf inside him scared Willow, always had, but she loved him regardless and he was not throwing that away.
Spike smirked. “Hardly. I don’t need to. She wants to be here. With me. Perhaps if I took to bruising her a bit she’d hate me as well. Pull a runner …”
“Spike, that’s enough,” Willow cried from the living room. He turned to see her, and Oz was able to get a glimpse as well. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to him.”
Jaw clenching, he raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
She nodded and came closer as Spike opened the door enough for the werewolf to come inside, eyes lifting to the white ball in the darkened sky as his brows knitted together.
“It’s a full moon out. Are you one of those bloody non-conformists?”
“Some might say that.” Standing in the living room, he tried to deny what he was smelling. Desire. Hers, thick in the air. He knew that scent, knew what it took to produce it. He had interrupted something that he would rather not consider. Glancing at the redhead, he took a calming breathe and asked, “Can we talk? Alone?”
Willow felt safe around Spike, but was not too eager to about being alone with Oz. He had promised to bite her in order to keep her, and it only took a second. It would work too, she knew it. Once the change took her over she would seek him out because they would be the same.
“He’ll be able to hear anyway and I want him to stay,” she advised him reasonably.
Barely able to push down his rage, the musician nodded and took a seat on the couch. Willow sat on a chair while Spike stood, watching over them like a demonic sentinel.
“You wanted to talk, so talk,” she told him when it seemed he was never going to start.
“It’s a lot harder with him watching.”
“Yeah, I get that, but Spike stays.”
“Are you and he …” he drifted off.
“That’s really none of your business.”
“None of my … Willow,” he frowned. “But Spike gets to hear all of our business?”
“Oz, I don’t know why you came,” she sighed, brushing her hair back from her face. “We don’t have any business. There is no business.”
“But you and him … you two do? He’s a vampire, Willow!”
“I know that!” she yelled back. “And funny how he hasn’t tried to hurt me in the name of loving me.”
“I didn’t mean to, Wills, I swear. I was in a bad place.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, right. My career is finally going places and I’m making good money and have a really nice girlfriend,” she said, mimicking his voice. “That’s terrible.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Oz, it really, really was. You hit me, hurt me, forced me to …” she trailed off, not wanting to say anymore in front of Spike.
“You think he’ll treat you better?”
“I am treating her better, mate,” Spike replied, tired of listening on the sidelines.
Oz turned to glare at him. “I know just how you’ve been treating her.” He jumped and started for Spike who pushed off the wall, always ready.
“Do you?” He leaned down close enough so he could whisper. “I can still smell her on me.”
Oz pushed him and Spike stumbled half a step back, snickering. “Willow, you can’t be serious. You’re choosing this …”
“Stop it, both of you!” Willow yelled, then bent suddenly, gasping while grabbing her stomach. Spike rushed to her side and placed his hand over hers.
“That’s it,” he grumbled. “Tell him to leave, Red. Or I’ll bloody well make him.”
She was panting, in pain and afraid. “Spike …” she started, clinging to him.
Watching Spike touch his woman so intimately, ignited that tumultuous angry fire in the wolf. Oz couldn’t take it any longer and started trying to dislodge the vampire from his love. “Get your filthy hands off her,” he grunted, unable to get them apart, but not for lack of trying.
“Oz, stop!”
Spike whirled and hit him, knocking the smaller man into the wall. Willow screamed, but didn’t move away from the blond. “Don’t hurt him, Spike, please.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” and then to her ex, “Please just go, Oz.” The pain was subsiding.
“Willow, what’s wrong with you?” he asked, even as the answer was becoming evident to him. The weight gain, the glowing skin, the fucking extra heartbeat that he so stupidly failed to notice upon arriving. “You’re … Willow?”
Tears flooded her eyes. He sounded so hurt and she couldn’t make her voice work.
“You’re pregnant?” he finished, knowing the answer and also knowing without a doubt that the baby was his. The vampire was incapable, and there had been no one else while she was with him. Willow was not the type to just sleep around. At least he thought she wasn’t, but had a pang of doubt as he stared between her and Spike.
She nodded and swallowed the huge lump in her throat.
“And it’s mine?” He wanted to hear it from her lips.
“Yes,” she whispered, her face crumpling.
Spike was done being polite. “You know, now leave. I won’t say it again.”
“Willow,” Oz tried, ignoring the blond. “I have a right …”
Spike hit him, knocking Oz to the floor before he could say another word. “You threatened to bite her and turn her and think she’s gonna be with you? What, you’re sorry? You’ll never do it again?”
Oz struggled to his feet. “And you think you’re any better?”
The vampire tilted his head, wondering if he was going to have to kill this man tonight. “Doesn’t matter what I think, or you either. Willow’s the one’s got to decide what’s best for her.”
This was turning into a repeat of their last encounter, only with more drama and less terror. She had been alone that time and had thought Oz was capable of being reasonable. She had been wrong. He was hell bent on taking her back and it seemed nothing had changed in that respect. Only now he was holding back, more likely seriously contemplating his odds if he tried to take on the vampire.
“Oz, you have to go, okay? I … we, we can’t be together. I don’t trust you not to hurt me.”
“What about my baby?”
She shook her head. “I’ll email you when it’s born and maybe you can
come visit sometime.”
“This isn’t a puppy were talking about.”
“Well, technically we can’t be sure,” Spike added.
He wasn’t surprised when Oz lunged for him, but the emerging fur was a little disconcerting.
~Part: 16~
Angel turned from his reading as the front door to the lobby opened. Faint wisps of fog that managed to fight its way through the smog clung to her as she strolled inside. She was still dressed as Fred, in a short skirt and a halter top that revealed her deceptively boney nature, and should have been cold. A cramp in his stomach made him pause. He always felt it when he saw her like this and if he had bowels they would have been shifting.
“Illyria.” She walked past him, not acknowledging his presence. “Where have you been?”
She stopped, turning only her head, and for a moment he thought she would pull a Regan MacNeil on him. Thankfully, she stopped short of the full180 degrees and regarded him with cold, blue eyes.
“I do not answer to you.”
Angel sighed. They were back to this again. He wondered what had happened while she was out to make her feel the need for such posturing, but those answers would have to come later. “I’m not suggesting that you do. Did you go to the concert?”
Her eyes narrowed in anger, and that was never good.
“There were thousands of perspiring versions of human spawn, vile smells that sickened me and wretched noises, but I endured.”
Sounded like a concert to Angel.
“And …” he prompted.
“He was there. And now he is not.”
Frowning, Angel was not sure what that meant. “You didn’t …”
“End his pathetic, canine existence? No.” The small smile on her face did nothing to reassure him. Illyria had discovered the joys of lying recently and often told him huge fisherman-type tales to rival Drusilla’s.
“So where has he gone off to?”
“There was … a party … in a night club. The one spewing out meaningless words to the noise you refer to as music was very friendly.” She made a face, reminding him of Fred when she was working on something that had stumped her. “He informed me that the wolf went to get the girl.”
She was done with the matter, only vaguely angry for allowing the vampire to persuade her to be used for his purposes, but Angel was on her heels like an annoying small dog.
“Wait, when did he leave?” He needed to warn Spike.
Not stopping this time until she reached her destination, the cold stock of Dr. Pepper in the refrigerator, she spun around with the can in her hand, melting into the form of Illyria.
“This was relayed to me this morning.”
Raising an eyebrow, he let that information sink in and began grinning, forgetting Spike and Willow for the moment. “Did you…”
Her hand was around his throat, squeezing much more tightly than was playful. “Complete that inane thought and I will tear out your tongue, vampire.” She dropped him and Angel rubbed his throat, smiling as she popped open the top and stormed away.
~~~~~~
He parried his attacker easily, his speed a definite advantage and a fully turned wolf soared though the spot where he had been, slamming painfully into the wall.
“Willow, get out of here!” Spike yelled, cursing himself for not acquiring some sort of silver weapon. He should have known that the boy would find her sooner or later. Had the vampire been in search of something that he thought was his, there was nothing that would keep him from it. Eventually, he would find who or what he was looking for.
Oz got up, snarling, fangs glistening with saliva, and Willow stood there frozen as she stared at her former lover.
“Please Oz, don’t do this, baby,” she cried through trembling lips. Spells to hold him, incapacitate him, kill him, dashed through her mind at breakneck speed, too quickly for her to grasp any one before the next assaulted her, vying for her attention with all the rest, expounding its usefulness until she was in the grips of panic.
Oz moved toward her and Spike attacked, three thunderous blows in quick succession that brought the wolf to a halt and to one knee. Howling, Oz leapt up, slamming into Spike, sending them both crashing to the wall, then bouncing off and landing on the table.
Spike was on top, but Oz rolled, his greater mass and weight as advantageous as the vampire’s strength and speed. Under him now, he clamped his hands around the thick, fur-covered neck, trying to twist it off. He was pretty sure that the thing could not live without a head, silver be damned.
Snapping his teeth at the demon below him, Oz tried to bite, but found himself held back by Spike. Instead, he raked sharp claws down the blond’s side. Spike cursed his way through the pain but refused to let go.
Pressed to the wall, Willow watched in fascinated horror as red flowed from Spike’s side and ran into the rug bunched up underneath the broken table. It spread quickly; he was loosing blood fast and would weaken eventually.
“Stop! Oz, stop!” she screamed, and the wolf looked up, his eyes blazing red. There was no recognition in them, just a blind need for blood and destruction. Taking advantage of the distraction, Spike was able to get a leg between them and flipped the werewolf off him, struggling to his feet, slipping in his own blood.
Recovering quickly, Oz sprang again, crashing through the window when Spike dodged him again. He landed in thick, thorny bushes, snarling his annoyance when he seemed to be tangled in branches that stabbed him at every turn.
“Got any silver, Willow?” he asked, panting his way through the pain, eyeing the window and waiting for the werewolf to appear again
She shook her head. “No, goddess, Spike, you’re bleeding.”
“Not news,” he ran his hand through his hair, contemplating taking her and leaving.
“Oh, your bracelet!”
He had forgotten it was there because it was always there. Now, how to shove it in the beast's heart?
There was no time to think it over. Oz was climbing back inside. Spike tossed the bracelet to Willow and rushed to the window, beating on gnarly paws and forcing him to let go of the ledge and start again. “In my room …” he grunted, “get a stake and tie the bracelet around it.
Willow darted toward the back of the house, just as Oz burst through the front door, standing on his hind legs and growling as he dropped to all fours.
“Look mate, I know you can understand me. I’m going to kill you. Do you really want that? Want that for her?”
Oz slowed, then stopped, reverting to a half-human and half-wolf hybrid. “She’s mine. I’ll never let her go.”
They stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds and Spike understood the depths to which this creature would go to reclaim what was his; just as Oz saw the relentlessly protective nature of the smallish vampire. In that moment there was an odd respect that passed almost too quickly to be named. Then he turned back and charged for the vampire again, screeching in agony before reaching his target. Whirling around, he faced a sobbing Willow, his back to Spike, revealing the stake lodged in his spine. Morphing back to a partially human state, his red-rimmed eyes settled on the redhead.
“Willow?” he called incredulously.
Her tears flowed freely as she collapsed to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Coming up behind the injured werewolf, Spike placed his hand on the stake and shoved it in completely, unconcerned by the hideous cry of pain coming from the figure writhing in his clutches. Soon the transformation to human was complete and the blond let him fall to the floor.
Somewhere in the house, Spike’s cell phone was ringing.
~Part: 17~
It was over.
The running, the hiding. She was done.
They had packed up what was personal quickly and were gone before midnight, leaving behind the furniture and anything too large to fit in his car. Willow had no clue what Spike had done with Oz’s body, but it was frighteningly apparent that he was no stranger to this. Somehow she managed to find more comfort in that than unease and didn’t question her new morals.
Old morals made her delay when she needed to act, made her indecisive while Spike was fighting her battles and bleeding out, and she would never allow that to happen again.
The drive ahead was long and they took turns in lieu of stopping for rest until daybreak. Spike wanted to get as much distance between them and what they had done before being forced inside by the sun.
Staying in the lower end motel meant that no one had to show ID to secure a room, cash was all the identification required and Spike had plenty. She didn’t question where he’d gotten the money; didn’t care. Nothing he could do right now, short of killing an innocent in cold blood, would turn her against him.
He put his life on the line … for her. Not for her because her death would hurt Buffy, but because he really cared about her. It was liberating and frightening at the same time that her feelings were being reciprocated, if not actually voiced.
They slept, showered, dressed his wounds, and took off as soon as the sun set again.
~~~~~~
The one thing Spike loved most about winter was the long nights. When he was actively hunting humans, this afforded him more hours when the best of the herd was still out and about, running errands or making social calls. Late night hunting consisted of drunks or druggies a lot of the time, and while getting high vicariously was amusing from time to time, he didn’t like to experience it often. Not since Woodstock.
Willow insisted on driving the first shift, but was now asleep and had been for hours. He smiled at her, wondering just when she began to trust him so implicitly. It hadn’t been that way back in Sunnydale. She didn’t hate him or even actively dislike him, but more tolerated him while understanding his worth in the scheme of things.
He was their strongest, most capable fighter. He was Buffy’s confidant, and messing with him meant trouble. This lesson was learned the hard way by Giles. In the end that lesson cost several potentials their lives and Xander an eye, but no one liked to talk about these things after it all went down and then Spike wasn’t there for the aftermath.
A sign indicating that Los Angeles was 78 miles away came into view and then was whizzed quickly away, along with everything else they had passed. He pressed harder on the accelerator, foregoing the need for a cigarette in order to make it to the Hyperion by sunrise.
~~~~~~
He drove the car around to the back of the building before waking his companion.
“Willow,” he called quietly while nudging her gently. She woke with a start, hands going in the air as if to ward something or someone away.
“Spike!” she gasped.
He grabbed her flailing arms and pulled her to him. “Shh, pet. I’m here. It’s over.”
She clung to him, trembling. “Oh Goddess, I killed him,” she wailed.
“I pushed it in, luv. Not you. It was me, not you.”
She shook her head. “I wanted him dead, Spike. When I thought he was going to really hurt you, I wanted him dead, and the stake … I just,” she trailed off, crying in earnest now, and the vampire held her until her tears subsided.
“Let’s get inside, all right?” he asked, wiping the wetness from under her eyes.
Nodding, she let him help her from the car and waited while he took their travel bag and the ice chest containing his blood from the trunk. He winced when pushing it closed, reminding them both of his injured side and she took the duffle from him.
In a race against the coming dawn he was slower in the running than he wanted to be, but still managed to make it inside without burning … much. Willow came in carrying the small bag of their stuff and glanced around. The place hadn’t changed much. There were a lot more weapons lying about, but otherwise it was still a nicely dated lobby of an aging hotel.
Taking the duffle, Spike motioned for her to remain quiet, hoping to sneak in without waking his grandsire and get another day of healing in before facing his inquiries. She caught on and they began their quiet ascent.
“You have returned. And brought … toys.”
Willow screamed, whirling around. Illyria stood behind them, regarding Willow with calculating eyes.
Rolling his eyes, Spike snatched Willow’s hand and marched up the steps while talking to the God King. “I’m sure you missed me, Blue. We’ll catch up later, yeah?”
He looked up and stopped short. Angel was waiting at the top, his face as expressionless as ever, except for the flaring of his nostrils.
“You made it,” he said, then remembered his manners. “Willow, hi. How are you feeling?”
She took the last few steps to the top and peered up at him. “I’m good,” she replied, before hugging him tightly. “You’re looking …” She took a few seconds to give him the once over. “Not so broody and miserable actually.” Then she hugged him again.
That never failed to make the older demon go gooey inside. She felt good in his arms and smelled great, even if very much like Spike. He eyed the blond over her shoulder, still assaulted by the scent of his blood.
“What happened?”
“Later, Angel, yeah?”
He stared at the younger vampire for a moment before relenting and turning to their guest.
“I started on a room for you, but it’s not done. I thought you guys would get caught out by the sun and have to hole up for another day.” He gave Spike another withering glance before guiding Willow to her room. The blond followed.
At the door she turned around and went the three steps needed to be back in Spike’s arms. “You’re staying with me, right?”
Angel was about to give his unsolicited opinion on that idea when Spike leaned in and kissed her, their lips sliding together sweetly, making them both feel that sinking need in the pits of their stomachs. Pulling away for air, she sighed as he moved to her neck, only remembering Angel at that moment.
“Uh, Spike?”
“Yeah, I’m not leaving you, pet,” he answered her first question while glancing at his sire. “I just need to have a little chat with Peaches here first. You’ll be okay?”
She nodded and went into the room, giving the older vampire a nervous smile. Somehow she was certain that she was going to be the hot topic of the day.
Angel slipped away to his rooms and was joined by the not-so-bleached blond wonder a moment later.
“You’re letting it grow out?” He could hope.
Spike frowned, taking off his coat. “What?” Angel pointed to his own head. “Oh, no, just hadn’t really thought about it.” He sunk into a chair to take off his boots, tired and feeling every bit of his years.
Angel watched him as he winced his way through the process, holding himself from going to him and stripping him bare to see the damage. He crossed his arms instead. “I can smell it, you know.”
“I know,” he replied as he leaned back in the chair with an exhausted sigh, somehow appearing languid and lazy even while hurting.
“Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to force it out of you?”
Spike laughed. “Like you could, old man.”
Angel let his arms fall and walked over to where Spike lounged. “Right now, I know I can.” He poked Spike’s side and was rewarded with a groan and yellowing eyes which he ignored. “What happened?”
“He got lucky is all.”
“Oz.”
“Yeah. The pup came to the door, unannounced and uninvited I might add, insisting on seeing Red. She didn’t want to but agreed when the wanker wouldn’t bugger off. After a bit of a chat, he got the idea that I was shaggin’ her, which I wasn’t,” he added quickly. “Then he learned about Willow’s little bun in the metaphorical oven and went ballistic. Had to kill him. It was either him or me, Angel.”
“Spike.” Willow stood in the doorway. “Spike didn’t kill him, Angel. I did.”
“It’s not true, Red, and you know it. Stop trying to beat yourself up over this.” Spike got to his feet.
“I just don’t want Angel mad at you for something that I did.” When he was about to protest again she added, “We did, okay?”
Angel nodded, shoving his hands in his front pockets to keep them from doing what they desired. “Did he bite you, scratch you, anything?”
Willow shook her head. “Spike protected me … and the baby.”
He went to her then, his fingers coming up to wipe away the tears forming in her eyes. “No crying now, luv. I told you I’d be here for you and I will. I am.”
Angel rolled his eyes. The vampire had it bad … again.
Melting into Spike’s arms, Willow pushed back the tears as she asked, “How do I tell the baby about her father?”
“His father. And you won’t have to. I’ll be there.” He nodded until she did as well, finally sure of something again. He was stepping up and stepping in, filling shoes for the man that only wanted what he considered his, trying to get it the only way he could. Knowing that he had a purpose and the possibility of love gave Spike what he had been lacking since that battle in the alley, perhaps since that last day of uber vamps and a gaudy necklace. Hope.
~~~~~~
They retired to their room. Spike finished making the bed while Willow took first turn in the bathroom. The fact that this was an actual hotel was just hitting her and she was oddly pleased that there was only one bed. She wanted to be close to him, sleep close to him, and probably would for a while. She had been terrified by Oz, repeatedly while they were together and finally, ultimately, when he lost all control in his quest to take her back with him. Spike made her feel safe and a bed away seemed too far for her liking. It was silly, Oz was not going to hurt her again, and she knew she had to get past it, but for now, tonight and maybe a few more, she would indulge her fears and let herself be comforted by someone so much stronger than her. When she came out, he was sitting in the only chair, unwrapping the blood stained dressings that they had hastily put on him before leaving that motel. She frowned at him.
“You should have waited. I can help you do that,” she scolded him, taking over. He allowed it, enjoying the feel of her fingers while sipping on the mug of blood Angel brought up to him while the young witch was showering. The elder demon had wanted to feed Spike, from him directly, but enticing as sire’s blood is, he declined. One taste of the power and he and Angel would be playing games that Willow was not ready to comprehend. She was no innocent. Spike knew that, but what he wanted from her and what he knew Angel wanted as well was something that would take time to cultivate. Otherwise she would be fleeing from them and that he could not allow.
He chuckled to himself. He had just killed a werewolf for that exact line of thinking.
“What are you thinking about?” Willow asked, interrupting his mental wanderings.
He smiled, very sure that he was not going to tell her the truth. “Nothing. Just about the baby and what he’ll be like.”
“It could be a girl, Spike,” she said with a sigh.
“Yeah, but I’m hoping for a boy.”
She looked down, checking around for something. “There’s no antibiotic.”
“Don’t need it, plus it’ll wash out in the shower anyway.”
Nodding, she indicated she was done and Spike swallowed the rest of his blood before he moved to stand. Her hand on his arm, hot and distracting, halted him.
“Do you really want to?”
All sorts of things flashed through his mind. Kiss you? Shag you? Turn you? “Want to what?” he frowned slightly so that those lines across his forehead that his human life had afforded him became visible. It was so easy to forget he was a vampire when he looked this way.
“Be there … for the baby?”
“For you both. You understand that, right? I want you and not because of or in spite of that little life you’re carrying.”
She absorbed this, like she did all things, and smiled once she allowed herself to believe it. Leaning closer, she kissed him. It was sweet and innocent, but filled with the promise of so much more, making his dead heart soar. They pulled apart slightly embarrassed that they seemed to spend a lot of time locking lips lately. She licked hers, tasting him there.
“Sooo,” she gave him a coy glance. “Wanna tell me why Fred has gone all blue dominatrix?”
~Epilogue~
“You were supposed to get it!” Angel yelled, whining slightly.
“No, you were!” Spike yelled back as he helped the redhead to her feet. “Hurry up, or I’ll put crazy glue in your gigantic stock of hairgel.”
Angel stopped halfway up the stairs, turning back to glare at the blond. “That crap took forever to come out, Spike. I’ll string you up and flay …”
“Hey!”
They both turned to see Willow, belly sticking out to nearly comical proportions, eyes narrowing with pain.
“He isn’t gonna wait for you guys to work it out, cuz that would take the better part of the century so LET’S GO!”
Angel jumped, hating when she got that loud, which was often lately, and dashed up the stairs for her suitcase.
“Come on, pet. I’ve got you.” He lead her to the back door of the lobby and out to the back alley where Illyria sat behind the wheel of the car, the engine running.
Willow shook her head. “No way. Spike, you drive.”
Illyria smirked and slipped from the car. “You still hold a grudge from our last outing. And yet I refrained from ripping that spawn from your belly when your magic went …” She looked to Spike from over the roof of the car, her head tilted. “Kaplooey.”
“Come on, Illy. Pregnancy was a good look for you,” Spike teased, unmindful of her icy stare. “Sides …”
“Spiiike!” Willow was doubled over, her legs on the verge of giving out as another contraction hit. “We … need … to go,” she panted.
“Right.” He helped her in the passenger seat and rounded the car quickly. “In the back, Blue.”
The former god was about to protest being regulated to such a demeaning position by refusing to go, but her curiosity over the entire birth process won out over her pride. She also wanted to be there to witness the redhead’s agony so she climbed in gracefully.
Spike turned to Willow. “Ready, luv?”
“As ready … as I’ll ever be,” she told him between breaths, using her Lamaze training to help with the pain. He smiled and started breathing with her, falling into the role of coach easily as he pulled out and turned into the traffic, unable to see the brunette vampire in the rearview mirror, running behind them carrying a Hello Kitty suitcase.
End