Chapter 14:

The Morning After Pill and Other White Lies

by Quwinntessa Starber

 As Willow's mind came back to her, so too did her aches and pains. Inwardly she grimaced, her whole body groaning with her movement. When she finally managed to crack her eyes open, she found herself against Spike's chest. His skin was still slightly warm to the touch, and her cheek felt good against him, as did the rest of her body.

She never knew if it was her movements that awoke him, or if he'd been awake the entire time, just listening to the gentle beating of her sleeping heart. His fingers took her slightly off guard as they came to run carefully though her hair, stopping at the first hint of a knot, knowing it was not something he could work though without causing her pain.

His touch was still electric, still inspiring of all things that were great and true in the world. They were lovers now, and Willow felt a sense of relief so profound it threatened to reduce her to tears. They were lovers, she to him and he to her. Bound now in a way that she could feel just under the surface of her skin. It was more than one body to the next, more than demon to human, more than even magic, it was as ageless as time, as boundless as the universe--they were one.

She smiled at that thought.

They were one.

"I love you, Spike." Her voice was quiet; and though she'd slept for a very long time, she was still exhausted, and knew she would be for some time to come. Beneath her, Spike shifted. One leg came between hers until his raised thigh bumped against her in a now arousing and comforting gesture. His hands too delivered a bit more pressure and she sighed as his arms came to wrap about her waist and shoulders, pressing her more firmly against his comfort.

"I love you as well, my Willow."

Closing her eyes against the delicious splendor of it all, she breathed deeply of his skin, knowing a large part of his intoxicating scent had to do with her own body upon his. She nuzzled his chest, hoping to absorb as much of that fragrance as possible, to bind it to her body and his for as long as she could.

Below her came the deep rumbling of a laugh that caused every nerve in her body to fire with warmth and something so much grander. He knew what she was doing, and demonstrated as much by leaning up and smelling deeply from her hair before kissing her shoulder.

"You smell like me, Luv."

She smiled before shaking her head. "No, my Spike, I smell like us." He didn't laugh this time, only nodded before kissing her shoulder again. A part of her recognized how Drusilla like that sounded, but more than ever before, she now understood.

The vampiress Drusilla, had not been able to separate the world from the bond, for that is all it really was. He was hers, the bond made it so, just as the bond between two Childes would have made Spike and Drusilla belong to one another. She was Spike's and Spike was hers, but in a way she didn't yet, he belonged to those vampires, the two who had lived in this house with him, made love to him as she had only the night before. Spike would always belong to Drusilla and Angelus, and he would always belong to her--and suddenly, that didn't seem wrong or worrisome, only understandable, and even comforting. She had her place with Spike, just as Drusilla and Angelus did. They couldn't take him away from her, and she couldn't take him away from them.

The last thing that had been bothering her, the last little bit of doubt seeped out of her body and vanished into the sigh she gave voice to as she snuggled against him.

They belonged together, forever.

"Spike?" Her eyes were closed again.

"Yes, Luv?"

Willow smiled slightly, her lips brushing his chest as she spoke.

"I'm hungry, my Spike."

* * *

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat that much in my entire life--and that's saying quite a bit, Pet."

On his lap Willow giggled. She was shoveling food past her lips almost before she could swallow the last bite, and he mentally shook himself for forgetting to feed her for the last two days.

"I can't help it, I'm starving! You at least got fed." At the reminder of her blood, he shifted his head from her right shoulder to her left, tilting her head with his cheek so he could again taste the twin scars upon her neck. He heard her gasp, new the reaction to the bond was strongest at this point. Against her will her hand came up, clutching the back of his neck, forcing him to continue. He wanted to, gods below he wanted to take her again, claim her over and over until their was not a part of her he did not own, until no demon in any of the countless dimensions would ever dare touch her. He wanted to make love to her again, in the kitchen, in the ball room, the library, the study or bedroom, it didn't matter, nothing mattered but his body inside hers and the look upon her face when she knew it was him, when her eyes were clear and she knew she belonged to him.

He pulled back when he noticed she'd stopped eating. "Come on, Willow, eat up. I know you're still hungry and weak. After this I'll take you into the upstairs parlor and you can get some sun, it'll do you good."

She was weak, so much weaker than she should have been. Her mental exhaustion from before, the blood he'd taken from her, and her lack of nutrition were all depleting her of the energy her body needed to function. She was like a doll in his arms, and though she insisted upon raising the fork to her own lips, it was slow going as the simple movement taxed her strength more than it fed it.

He'd carried her into the bathroom upon her confession this morning and he couldn't help but close his eyes in painful understand of what he'd done to her. She was a litany of bruises. Her arms were ringed in purple and green where he'd gripped her the night before, shaken her to try and force her subservience. There were scratches and bit marks all along her breasts and stomach, and her hips and thighs held even more bruises. Her eyes had been haunted with that vague look that accompanies shock and too much blood loss, and he'd been quick to bath and dress her wounds before bringing her down to breakfast for a taste of food and his blood.

He couldn't give her much, he'd given her enough already to worry him, but her body was in pain, and that was something he refused to stand for. He'd used his own blood to season the oatmeal, knowing to a body as depleted and bonded as hers, she would find it irresistible; and in fact, she'd finished the bowl of oats and sugar before even touching the rest of the meal. She'd perked up after that, but his blood was like liquor to a babe, and she was listless because of it, resigned to most of the things he told her to do. Most.

"But you can't go in there with, and I don't want to go alone. I want to stay with you today, all day long." She leaned her head back, turning to the side so she could kiss his chin, his cheek, before he turned too and their lips met, his tongue stealing out to taste the sugar still clinging to her lips.

When Spike pulled back she was still lost in the kiss. He brushed his lips against her cheek. "I know you want me close, Willow, and I will be. You need some light and the old drawing room is the best place for that."

She shook her head. "Couldn't we just go to a different room? The.library's big enough."

He smiled, lifting the fork from her forgotten fingers and loading it with the last of her breakfast. "It'll only be for a few hours, Willow, that's all there is left of the daylight anyway. Besides," he brought the fork to her lips, and waited for her to take the offering into her mouth. "Besides, you'll fall asleep anyway."

"But--"

"No 'buts', you still need a lot of rest, Willow, and I have a lot of things I need to take care of before you awaken. So you'll take a nap like a good little girl, and let Spike get everything together." He smiled, leaning down to kiss her pouting lips only to hear her giggle delightedly. She was exhausted, and though he had no intention of treating her like a child, for now, he would, at least until she'd gained back her strength-- otherwise, he'd forget how fragile she was and make love to her until neither had anything left to give.

"Ok, but can we go to the library first? I want to grab a book in case I can't sleep." He nodded, rising and lifting her into his arms before leaving the kitchen and ascending the first flight of stairs.

In the library, he set her down on the couch before claiming the book she'd craved. Then once again, he lifted her up and took her the rest of the way to the sunroom. Stopping outside the door, he kissed her gently before setting her on her feet, bracing her when she swayed.

"Just go in there and rest for a while. I promise that the moment the sun sets I'll come back for you and we'll go back down to the library and read together, alright?"

Her smile lit up her face--the entire dark and dreary world he'd lived in since his very birth--she was light and breath, she was blood and warmth. She was everything to him, and he worshiped her. This slip of a girl was worth more to him than his entire existence, more than all the power he'd ever craved. It wasn't just her beauty or her mind, it was her essence.or perhaps Willow had said it best herself.

She was his mass.

Willow looked down at her feet before returning her gaze to his eyes. "Do you think.when you come for me.do you think we could go to the ballroom and dance for a little while? I know I'm weak, I can feel it. But if you just carried me, held me for a while, I'd really like that. I," she brought her hand to his chest, to a button on the seam. "I'd like it if we could be close like that. I-I know I'm too tired, too.well," she blushed. "To do what we'd really like to do after my nap, but if we danced together--that'd be enough for me." Her eyes were hopeful in the flicker of the gas lamps, and Spike couldn't resist touching her face, feeling the silk of her hair gliding through his fingers.

He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "I would love to dance with you, Willow. We'll dance for as long as you want."

There were tears in her eyes then, tears of happiness that he kissed away as they silently fell down her cheeks towards her smiling lips.

"Thank you, Spike."

"Don't thank me, Luv, you've no reason to. Whatever my queen desires, she shall have." He brushed her hair behind her ears before kissing her again. Then with much regret, he opened the white door, careful to stay away from the stray sunbeams that drifted into the hallway. "Rest, Willow, I'll come for you soon."

She nodded, and without another word, stepped into the room. Gently he closed the door behind her, breathing in a long draw of breath before moving back down the hallway and towards his study. The bond might be there but there was much he still had to do to ensure her safety, and the first, was to make a phone call.

* * *

"Yes, well, Angel, I do understand--"

The vampire growled, his features shifting to flicker across his face, revealing his true form. "You have no idea, Giles, none at all. You Watchers, watch, but that means you only see what we want you too, you're not smart enough to actually look where it'll do you some good."

He turned his back on the older man--or should he say younger? In his line of sight now, the Slayer squirmed, before glancing once at the werewolf before looking back at him.

Angel felt Cordelia come up beside him. "Angel, not that I don't think vampires have their good points, but don't you think it's a bad idea to leave Willow with Spike? I mean, there's no telling what he could do to her."

He'd felt it hours ago, but if truth be told he'd sensed it farther back then that. He and William shared the same demon; after all, he'd been the one to Sire the boy. It was a collective conscious to a point, a way of knowing where your Childe was so you could either save them or punish them. He'd known the moment Spike had come back to town, known and ignored it for the five days the vampire had slinked around. But Spike hadn't come to him, even though Angel knew Drusilla hadn't come back with his Childe. To say his heart had been broken would have been an understatement. Angelus had been driven by rage and near insanity over his sexual encounter with the Slayer, and he'd taken it out on his favorite Childe believing Spike could take it. But the decades without him, the near century with Dru had changed his beloved Spike. The boy was different now, and that fact had enraged Angelus--to know that he'd not only been infatuated with the Slayer, but had also lost his most beloved Childe had driven the Scourge of Europe nearly mad with the need for revenge.

But Spike had returned two months ago--without Drusilla--and had not sought out his Sire. Angel had known what Angelus had not, that Spike was already so cracked that the Master's type of psychological discipline would only destroy their bond further. Heartbreakingly he'd been right, and Spike, his most beloved Childe, had--in his grief--helped the Slayer to destroy his Sire, to kill Angelus. Angel couldn't blame him, and now, neither could Angelus. His demon was a cold and ruthless creature, but the Sire/Childe bond was strong, and in the end, Angelus had been proud that Spike would do what needed to be done to protect himself. It is always a parent's greatest pride to see their children live and be happy, vampires-- though not always the case--could feel such emotions, and Angelus had.

It broke Angel's heart to know that Spike could return to Sunnydale, knowing Angelus was no more, and still not seek him out. Intellectually, he knew Spike despised him, despised Angel. He was weak, while Angelus was strong. Angel had shunned Spike away after the Romm girl, while before that, they had been lovers. But in the end it didn't matter, Spike should have come to him, should have begged his Sire's forgiveness upon learning he still lived. That didn't happen though, and Spike had driven into town and stayed away before grabbing the redhead and leaving town.

Two months later, the Mayor was defeated and thanks to The Powers That Be, everything was different.

The Powers had come to him, requesting his help with the Mayor, in exchange they would give him what he most desired. He'd assumed it was his soul, to make it a permanent part of who he was, of the vampire. So he'd fought, he'd helped the Slayer and her Watcher, helped Willow's friend, and werewolf in the final battle to save the world. In the end, they'd been successful, and in the end, The Powers had upheld their end of the bargain.

It was still his secret. The Slayer and her friends thought he'd been given his soul permanently, and the Slayer had thrown herself repeatedly at him for the last month. The very sight of her disgusted him, but held his tongue, it wouldn't do to let the ruse over just yet.

Just then a gentle sob caught his attention, and he found his eyes softening just a bit as he looked at the broken boy in the corner. Xander had not been the same since Willow's disappearance. Where once a vibrant young man had stood, now resided a broken child. Xander had failed to graduate with the rest of his class, and after a particularly horrible night against his stepfather, the boy had moved in with the Slayer before taking up residence with the Watcher. There wasn't an ounce of life left in him, and he'd found himself wondering if it wouldn't just be a mercy killing to end the boy's suffering.

It had been Xander who'd found out first about the Slayer and the Werewolf. He'd gone to talk with the band member when he'd heard the dog and the Slayer arguing about Willow. Xander had learned of their deception and Willow's discovery and flight before taking off after the girl himself. By chance alone, he'd found Willow's coat in the playground the next morning, after hours of searching. The search stretched out for weeks, but when all but Xander and Willow's parents had given up, the boy had become anything but responsive.

He watched as the cheerleader hesitated going to her ex-boyfriend. He'd learned, that while shallow, the brunet had a good heart; however her kindness did not extend to the drowning boy in the corner.

Growling again, Angel moved, coming quickly to Xander's side, resting his hand against the youth's shoulder. "I cannot explain everything to you Xander, but I do know that Willow is alright. Spike hasn't hurt her, he hasn't hurt her at all."

Chocolate brown eyes looked up and into his own, and he watched as Xander's lip trembled against his tears. "H-how can you say that? Spike'd kill his own mother if he thought it'd get him something, and now you're telling me he has Willow, has all this time! Of course he'd hurting her, Angel, of course he would; he's a vampire, and that's what vampires do!"

He shook his head, knowing the room was staring at him, his display with Xander not without close scrutiny. "While it's true, that Spike would most likely kill his own mother, I know for a fact he has not hurt Willow. Not all vampire's are fledglings, Xander. Spike is a Childe, my Childe to be exact. The Watcher Journals speak little of the Sire/Childe bond because they cannot see it or understand how a vampire could feel anything beyond evil and survival, but that's not true. It can't be. I'm a vampire, Xander, and I'm not trying to kill you."

Red-rimmed eyes looked up at him then, their depths intensified by the tears still floating in them. "It's not the same thing, Angel. It's not the same. Spike doesn't have a soul, you do."

And he chose to look away then, chose to stand and move across the room to the other window, rather than lie while looking into the eyes of a child. He drew a deep breath, wariness in his voice. "Xander, as I already said, I can sense some of what Spike is going through, what he's feeling. He won't hurt Willow, he can't."

The Slayer cut him off. "Why not! What's so damn special about Willow that Spike's not aching to sink his fangs into her?" There was malice and a great deal of jealousy in her voice, and Angel reflected on how ugly she truly was, while forcing himself to ignore the fact that he'd ever considered her attractive.

He turned then, back to face the mansion living room, back toward the Watcher and the Slayer, towards the cheerleader and the werewolf, back to the failed Watcher, and back to Xander. "He won't kill her, Slayer, because that is not his plan for her. As I already said, I know Willow is alive and safe because I felt the bonding last night, and before you ask, I will not tell you anything more about the bonding except that she is safe and well. Vampires keep many secrets, and this is one that even I shall not break."

"So we're just going to let Spike keep her? There's no way, Angel! Spike came into my town and took my best friend, there's no way I'm going to let him get away with that. Now tell me where blonde is so I can go there and slay his bleached British ass!"

It took everything inside him not to shift into game face and rip her throat out. Her jealousy of not being the center of the world was clear even to the simple humans in the room, and Angel watched as Cordelia rolled her eyes, and Xander glared deathly at her. Giles and Wesley seemed torn between agreeing with her and taking her over their knee, while Oz seemed as blasé about it as he did everything else.

Angel shook his head. "I will not tell you, Slayer. Now it's late and time for you to go."

He watched her outrage fist her hands. "In case you forgot, Angel, I'm the Slayer and you're the vampire, that means when I say, 'tell me what I want to know', you tell me. Now I'm going to ask you one more--"

In rage his game face fell into place and he pounced, gripping the back of her hair and yanking her head back to expose her throat. He heard the others gasp as an afterthought as his golden eyes locked with the blue of the Slayer's. "And in case you forgot, Slayer, you're absolutely no match for me." He threw her away from him and straight into her Watcher. "Get her out of here!" He shouted before turning around and walking back to the window.

He heard the struggle as Giles dragged Buffy from the room, heard as the others followed them out, and heard the gentle breathing and soft heartbeat of Xander as he came back into the room moments later.

"There are days I get the impression that you're not fighting for the white hats anymore, Dead boy. I hear you talk about Willow being safe, but I wonder if it's really Willow you're concerned about at all. I know you probably don't want anything to happen to her, that you'd rather she was safe then not safe, but still.I gotta wonder if it isn't more about Spike then it is Willow."

Angel closed his eyes. "And if it is?"

He heard the boy shake his head. "I don't know, I really don't. It should be enough for me that she's safe, that she's really alive and that--even though she's with Spike--at least she's not hurt or dead. But Angel, you've gotta tell us more. I have to know! I have to see her with my own eyes! She's my best friend, and I treated her like shit! It's not enough for me to know she's ok because you say so, I have to really know! I mean.I mean.we ate steak together."

He turned when he heard Xander collapse to the floor in a fit of broken sobs. And he knew, even more so than before, that Xander was truly broken. Angel knew that should Willow ever return, Xander was too far-gone to ever truly recover. He'd never be the same again, never the vibrant man he'd once been. In a way he was like Drusilla, driven mad by grief and sorrow.

Without another word, Angel went to him, lifting the sobbing mass and taking him to the bedroom. He removed the boy's shoes and then placed him under the covers tucking him in before brushing his hair from his forehead. But Xander was already exhausted, and he quickly fell asleep, completely ignorant that he was now poised to share the bed with his once mortal enemy.

However, just as Angel prepared to consider the situation, his private cell phone rang, hidden in the wall safe behind the china cabinet in the dinning room. He always hid important things in wall safes, his father had once told him they were the best hiding places, as long as they weren't concealed behind paintings, which were too obvious. The ring was impossible for human ears to hear, but Angel had been expecting the call and felt the vibrations through his enhanced hearing.

It rang twelve times before he picked it up, knowing there were only two people in the universe who knew this number.

When he did manage to answer it, it was with the slow and sultry accent of his youth, the brogue slipping out before he could catch it, before he remembered his little secret.

"'Ello, William. 'Ave ya been a good boy?"

chapter 13

chapter 15

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