by
Lisa Y. Drexel
He knew what she was waiting for—his confession.
As she sat curled on his lap, her hot, burning fingers scorching his chest as they lightly played with his buttons, all he could think of was how much he wanted her small, naked body laid out on her bed—waiting for him to join her.
And yet still, he didn't take what he wanted or even what was nearly offered, because he knew she wanted to know why.
And that needed to be answered before anything else was said or done that evening.
His lips touched her forehead and felt a jolt of arousal center on his crotch, as her heat nearly burned him.
So much passion in such a small woman.
Tightening his hold on her, inwardly wishing for a cigarette, he began to speak—hoping that she believed him—needing her to trust him.
As the words flowed from his mouth, he watched her face as her brows creased in concentration, as if she were remembering as well, that fated night he drunkenly kidnapped her and the whelped and irrecovably changed everyone's life—even his.
"So—so, you too?" she asked, green eyes met his—wide in wonder at his words. A light flush colored her face and she turned her attention back to his buttons. "I—I could ignore it for a while…with that whole mess with Oz and Xander—and Faith—but when I met my vampiric double—it brought it all back up."
She shivered, goosebumps covering her skin. He rubbed her bare arms, wondering if his cool flesh was warming hers as he remembered what the Slayer had told him of the vampiric version: playful, dangerous, strong, evil and possibly as crazy as Druscilla.
"But she told me things. "
"What things, pet?"
Her head dipped as she hid her face from his searching glance. "Things like her puppy."
"Puppy?"
"Angel—souled—was captured by the Master and caged for his—and mine—her, I mean, amusement."
He couldn't stop himself from chuckling out loud—the vision of Peaches in shackles with a leather-clad Willow torturing him, alternating between inducing pleasure and pain onto his sire.
It was enough to make his cock even harder.
"I know—I never could look at him the same way." She took a deep breath. "She also told me things about you."
That got his attention.
"What about me, love?"
"You and Dru came to Sunnydale, just like you did in this timeline—so you could heal Dru. You had to perform certain duties for the Master in order for you to 'borrow' Angel.
"Part of your 'services' was to train me and Xander—in combat, battle stragedy. I—she—fell in love with you." She burrowed her head into his shoulder. "In the end, you chose Dru. She didn't say it—but I could tell—she was me, ya know—it changed her. Made her even more cruel. More evil, if that was possible."
He lifted her chin, urging her to meet his eyes. He felt her shudder and her skin heat. Whether it was in embarassment or not, he didn't know. But he did want her to understand that he understood.
Once green met blue, he gently caressed her face and leaned forward and kissed her chastly on the lips. "Pet, she's gone. I tortured her—just like I said I would—until she loved me again, but," he stopped remembering that awful twisting in his gut as he stared at his broken Dru, hanging from shackles in their bedroom—covered in blood, both her own and not—and realized that his princess was right, he could never be the demon she wanted him to be, because he could never be Angelus. "But, something changed. I changed. When Whistler popped his bloody head up into my life—I almost welcomed it—as much as a blood-thirsty demon could. It gave me an out—a way to leave her, without abandoning her." He pulled the clasp out of her hair, and as it fell through his hands, he stared at it—almost entranced. So beautiful and soft. "She'll never take me back now and I don't want her to." His hand came up and he found himself twirling the red strands, fascinated at the way they curled around his finger.
"Where is she?"
Spike shrugged. "I think in Europe—with that bloody Chaos Demon. She seemed really taken with him. The ugly sod is as crazy as she is."
She lifted her head and turned in his lap, facing him. "So, what now?" she asked as traced his scar with her shaking, hot fingers.
His hand slipped down her head and clasped the back of her neck, urging her face closer to his. With their lips barely touching, he slipped out his tongue and traced her lips—her taste intoxicating—peaches and cream and almonds mixed in with the peppermint from her toothpaste and the sweetness of the Coke she drank earlier.
She licked her lips, her tongue touching his, and finally that roar of passion that he had been fighting all evening, filled him, clouding his thoughts of taking it slow—
The hell with taking it slow, he thought to himself as his lips crushed down on top of hers, possessive and demanding, until she opened up to her.
The hell with it.
Willow & Spike fic SunnyHell Haven Fanfic page
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©1999 Lisa Y. Drexel