*He is beautiful*
She’s never thought of using that term to describe a man before, but
no other word really suits him. The sharp delicacy of his cheekbones; the
full, yet masculine curve of his lips; the marbled planes of his lean form;
they are all too perfect, too otherworldly to be called merely handsome.
She knows he wouldn’t appreciate being called beautiful, though, knows
he’s too much the ‘big bad,’ so she never says it out loud, merely lets
the word echo through her mind and linger at the tip of her tongue as she
gazes at him.
*He is trusting*
She still can’t believe that he trusts her. After everything that Drusilla
did to him over the century he devoted himself to her, after everything
he’s endured at Buffy’s hands just because of his love for the Slayer she
brought back wrong, after she herself has twice invaded his mind with misguided
magick; after all of that, he can still allow himself to trust. To trust
*her*.
*He is caring*
She still remembers that night in the dorm room. Remembers the way
he listened to her and tried to console her over losing Oz. The way he
tried to make her feel attractive, even worthy of being sired, all the
while coping with something so much bigger than her self-pity: the horrible
fear and uncertainty over what the Initiative had done to him that had
made him unable to feed. She never really thanked him for that. Never did
as much to repay him as she should have. Yet still, in spite of everything
she didn’t do, everything she never did for him in the months afterwards,
he still lets her near him, lets her understand him, heal his pain; and
lets himself care for her.
*He is understanding*
She remembers the way everyone treated her when she became involved
with Tara. The way everyone looked away, wanting to pretend that she didn’t
have a girlfriend. The way they ignored Tara, making Willow feel the need
to publicly identify herself as "gay now" just to force her friends to
face reality and *look* at them, to respect her and to treat her
life and her lover with the respect she’d always given to *their*
lives. But not Spike. He had always looked at them. He didn’t stare at
them in the covert, frat boy way that Xander occasionally did, sneaking
glaze-eyed looks out of the corner of his eye and making Willow feel like
she was starring in a letter to Penthouse Forum. No, Spike just looked
at them the way he looked at everyone. And Willow was grateful for that.
Just as she’s grateful for the way Spike doesn’t ask her to re-define herself
now. To say she’s straight because she’s involved with him and dismiss
her time with Tara as a college experiment. He just accepts that she loves
who she loves. Accepts that she loves him.
*He is playful*
She still giggles when she recalls the morning after they made love
for the first time, the way he woke her up by tickling her. The way she’d
wriggled and squirmed to get away from his relentless hands and they’d
fallen off the bed in a tangled heap of arms and legs. The way they had
both laughed, and how the laughter had turned quickly to passionate moans
and screams of ecstasy. She loves they way he makes everything fun and
playful and lighthearted, even as it’s intense and intimate and real. The
way he accepts her own sillier moments as a part of who she is and matches
them with his own.
*He is sensual*
She loves the way he lets her explore his body, learning it like a
book; the way he opens himself up to her, and lets her open herself up
to him. The way he touches her, tastes her, and has shown her a whole world
of sensation that she never dreamed possible. The way he accepts everything
about her, let’s her express her sexuality to a degree she never has before,
not even with Tara. She accepts him, too. In every way. Man, demon, and
every shadow in every inch of space between the two. She knows he’s never
had that with anyone before and it makes her feel ever more free to share
herself with him, to let him teach her, to let him take her to new places,
to let him take her further inside herself...and inside him.
*He is forgiving*
Twice, she has been inside his mind, warping it, even erasing his memories,
committing what she now realizes was a kind of rape, hard as that is for
her to admit, even to herself. She almost killed Dawn, the girl who is
as close to a sister to Spike as she is to Buffy, maybe more. She is also
the cause of all of Spike’s current pain, the one who brought back the
woman he loves as a damaged shell who can’t love him back, who has to hurt
him to make herself feel. But he forgives her, reminds her of that fact
every time she makes to apologize again, every time something reminds her
of her transgressions and her eyes well up with tears he never lets her
shed. She still can’t understand *why* he forgives her after everything
she’s done, why he doesn’t expect her to crawl on her hands and knees through
broken glass the way the others do, the way she *deserves*. But
he *does* forgive her, doesn’t ask her to atone for anything, and
she’ll never stop feeling grateful.
*He is love*
She loves him, and she knows he knows that, even though she’s never
said it aloud, too afraid that he won’t want to hear those words, or that
they’ll make him feel obligated to feel something for her that he never
could. But lately, there’s been something in his eyes that gives her hope.
Something that makes her think he’s emerging from the pain-filled haze
of Buffy’s thrall. Something that makes her think that maybe, just maybe,
Spike is learning to love a girl who already loves him with everything
she is. That maybe his heart is open to accepting the heart that Willow
has already given over to him. So, she decides as she drifts off to sleep
beside her lover, when she wakes up, she’ll do it. She’ll tell him out
loud what he already knows and let those words decide their future. She’ll
be brave. She’ll be honest. She’ll say the three most powerful words in
all her storehouse of knowledge, in all her witch’s arsenal of incantations.
She’ll look into Spike’s eyes and say, "I love you."
The End.
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