The Charms of Dancing
Part 22
The soft click and whirring of the blinds closing startled Willow from her sleep. It was barely audible over the music that still played on, but distinctively different, perhaps that's what woke her. Smiling at the feel of Spike's hands tenderly stroking her back and face, she rubbed her cheek against the cool chest she had demanded as a pillow and her eyes fluttered open to the incandescent wavering of candles nearly melted. Music and soft light, the things she had used to chase away her dream, a dream she couldn't recall. It was, now, nothing more a brief moment of wakefulness, a bad feeling easily soothed by Spike and his silent understanding of her need, his desire to comfort her.
"It must be late," murmured Willow sleepily, her thumb running back and forth over his navel as she focused fully on the flames that were struggling to burn in pools of melted wax.
"Guess it depends on your point of view, love," Spike whispered, bowing his head to kiss the top of her sleep tousled hair.
"Which is?"
"Well, the sun'll be up in few hours, so it's late and all good vampires should be tucked up in bed," Spike smirked, covering her hand with his. "But it's early for little school girls who should be sleeping 'cause they've got class in four hours."
"Ugh, school," grimaced Willow, dropping a light kiss on his chest and sighing. A look of impish conspiracy crossed her face and she tilted her head to look up at Spike, mischief lighting up her sleepy eyes. "You know, I think I'm coming down with something..."
"Really?" Spike cocked an eyebrow, his hand coming to rest on her forehead and he frowned, playing along. "Definitely running warm."
"And if I'm coming down with something, I couldn't possibly go to school...I mean spreading all those germs, making everyone else sick," she snuggled back against his chest, stifling a yawn as he chuckled.
"Tired?"
"Mmm," she admitted, her eyes almost shut.
"Sleep, we'll take your temperature later and you can decide what to do."
"You're not going, are you?" Willow mumbled against his chest. "You'll wake me so I can call in sick?"
"Of course, my Queen," Spike murmured, tightening his loose hold, his thumb tracing the rounded curve of her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere..."
"Good. Should we blow out the candles?" she asked, already half asleep and her mind running through the various safety warnings about naked flames. Spike turned his head to watch the flames as they flickered, drowning in the pools of hot wax.
"They'll burn themselves out soon enough."
**********
The solid surface under the felt cracked audibly. Or it could have been the beaten and bloodied body that was thrown onto the pool table that cracked. Either way, the grunt of pain, which accompanied the fall, ensured that something had cracked through the sheer force of it all. A rounded boot heel pressed into the fallen man's groin, cutting down sharply against testicles that were already tender from previous abuse, and the fine end of a pool cue pressed against his throat, threatening to crush the air pipe.
"I usually don't like to share Willie," Angel pressed his heel down a little harder and leant his weight against the cue. "But tonight I feel generous. One more time, where is Spike?"
"I swear, Angel..." Willie began, readying to repeat the denial of knowledge that had led him to this very torturous position. The pool cue pressed down, effectively cutting off his air supply, and he clawed at the unrelenting wood, desperate to breathe. As his eyes watered and the thin lips turned blue, Angel relieved the pressure slightly letting the rat gasp for air. "He's been as silent as the grave."
"Spike's never silent," Angel growled, jabbing the cue back against the snitches throat and grounding his heel down. The howl of pain echoed around the bar, bouncing off the debris of destruction of pure rage, and Angel snarled. "Which means you know something. Come on, Willie, I thought we were in share mode..."
"I swear I don't know," Willie whimpered hoarsely and Angel's boot ground down harder, producing another howl of agony. The torture was too much for the snitch to endure and the howl was soon replaced with a jumble of words. "The only thing I know is he's got Marcus and his lot working for him."
With the information blurted out, Angel released the pressure of both foot and cue, but the threat was ever present by the weight of both against the snitch, while the vampire tilted his head to glare down at the beaten man.
"Now why would he do that?" asked Angel, more to himself than the bartender. Marcus was the new generation of vamp, keeping well below Slayer and Watcher radar, moving quietly and quickly so as not to attract attention, and certainly not the type with grand illusions of world domination. No, they survived, comfortably, confidently, and incredibly well hidden. "Where's the nest?"
"I don't know," Willie gasped, swallowing back the blood that was running down his throat from his broken nose. Tossing the pool cue aside, Angel reached down and hauled the broken man up by the front of his shirt, certain that the bartender knew nothing more.
"You find anything else out you tell me directly," Angel snarled in his face. "Oh, and Willie..."
"Yes?"
"Tell anyone I'm looking for Spike and I'll string you up with your own guts."
Willie gulped as the vampire's eyes flashed gold and he shrugged, smiling crookedly at the glowering creature that still held him. "Hey, you know me Angel."
"Yeah," growled Angel, pushing the snitch away, letting him fall back onto the hard surface of the pool table. "I know you Willie."
**********
Willow moaned and arched her back, the silk sheet clinging to her sweaty skin. Panting, her fingers tangled in the sheets as her toes curled and she cried out. It was overwhelming, the heat washing over her in waves as her body shuddered and she gasped for air. The sheets rustled as Spike inched his way up from between her legs, covering her fevered flesh with cool kisses. With a smirk, he lowered his body to hers, cool skin meeting warm as his lips claimed hers, his tongue leisurely exploring her mouth.
"You're burning up, love," Spike whispered, nipping at her lips.
"I guess," she smiled as his mouth found her neck and she wrapped her arms about him. "I should spend the day in bed."
"Probably for the best," murmured Spike, reluctantly abandoning her throat to lean over and grab a mobile phone from the bedside table, handing it to her. "Call it in."
Smugly, she took the offered phone, using her thumb to dial the library's number and giggled as Spike latched onto one of her hard nipples.
"Stop that," she scolded as the phone rang, her free hand tangling in the short blond hair. The phone continued to ring and Spike's hands began to wander. "I'm serious."
"So am I," he murmured and circled his tongue about her other nipple. Groaning, she arched against his mouth and pulled on his hair. It didn't stop him and Giles answered the library's phone.
"Giles, hi," Willow tugged even harder on the blond hair and tried to turn on her side to gain some relief. With a muted growl, Spike pulled away from her nipple and raised up to push her back down. Scowling at her, he returned to his slow torture of her breasts, his hands wandering as she tried to concentrate on the phone call. "No, that's why I'm calling actually..."
Spike moved, rocking against her as his mouth continued to explore her salty skin, her heartbeat vibrating under his lips. Biting her tongue, Willow clamped her thighs about his hips, hoping to still his motion, it only served to bring her into closer contact with his hips and hard cock. With a long, slow thrust he ran his erection along her and she shuddered, Giles voice sounding distant on the phone.
"No, I'm not really feeling that great...short of breath? Yeah, a little."
Spike's lips worked their way back to her throat and she moaned. The thrust of his hips was repeated and her free hand clutched at his back. Those wicked lips parted and his tongue began to trace the path of the various veins that ran down her throat, over her shoulder and along her arm. His mouth barely inches from the phone she held and the leisurely thrust of his hips was repeated.
"Anyway, I won't be in today and I thought I'd let you know," Willow closed her eyes, rolling her hips to meet his next thrust, the length of his cock sliding against her. Giles talked and she didn't listen, instead she leant into Spike's caresses and tried to stop from moaning. She gasped as the head of his cock slid inside her, a shallow thrust moved him deeper and she bit down on his shoulder to smother her moan. On the phone Giles asked a question she really should have paid attention to. "Sorry, what?"
The question was repeated as Spike buried himself deep inside her and nuzzled her free ear, moaning softly.
"No, I wasn't there..." she frowned as Spike continued his slow torture. "Mom and Dad aren't there and I don't like staying by myself...was it important? No, I don't...I'll be back tomorrow..."
Spike lifted his weight up, pulling back out of her warmth, stilling completely before smirking down at her and thrusting, hard and deep just the way he knew she liked it. Digging her nails into his back, Willow grimaced, biting down on her tongue and wishing that she could just end the phone call, instead of listening to the nonsensical garbage Giles was prattling on about on the other end.
"...if I feel better..."
Spike smirked at the addition and Willow blushed, stuttering a goodbye that ended the call so she could toss the phone aside and pull him to her. The startling revelation that Angel had been looking for her last night was lost, she pushed the thought aside as she drowned in Spike's kisses.
There were no other thoughts, nothing mattered other than the power of his body moving with hers and their wanton needs. She became the most ravenous creature, clawing and wrapping herself about him, starved for the very thing he offered. For both of them the world no longer existed, they were flying on a carnal high.
Only to crash, hours later, exhausted.
**********
Angel glanced around the Bronze, the usual Wednesday night crowds were gathered in their little groups around the various tables and couches, gossiping and flirting with others. It wasn't the first time he'd looked around the place, but it was the last for tonight. None of the Scooby's were there, or more precisely Willow wasn't there. Staying in the shadows, Angel thrust his clenched fists into his pockets, it wasn't like he was expecting to find her there anyway. He'd already been to the Rosenberg's residence, only to find it cloaked in darkness, no lights and no sign of life, and Willow's room hadn't been touched since he'd left it. That alone was a disturbing fact to the vampire since a mid afternoon trek through the tunnels to lurk in the library's stacks meant he'd been privy to a conversation between Giles and Buffy about the redhead. She was ill, had been off for days, that's the way Giles had described it to Buffy and she was more than ready to agree with him. Their discussion had turned to broken hearts and boyfriends gone bad, and Angel had wanted to scream that they were blind, deaf and dumb. But he didn't, he'd stayed in the shadows listening to the two until his head ached in anger at their stupidity and he left without letting them know of his presence. If she was ill, why wasn't she at home, safely tucked up in bed?
Angel shoved the emergency exit open, stepping out into a deserted alleyway next to the Bronze. Buffy and Giles were foolish if they really believed the dismissive things they'd been talking about. There was no doubt in his mind that Willow was with Spike, why she was crazy enough to be with the blond, he wasn't sure. There could have been a number of reasons behind it, all of them born of malicious intent and sure to end badly, but until he was certain what was going on between the two, he was keeping the details to himself. Details that came to him in sleep or daydreams. So many times had he been woken by her screaming for help, by torturous howls of pain and the overwhelming feeling that she belonged nowhere other than cowering behind him, protected by his very presence. Those screams were working their way into his waking hours, echoing down the deserted alleyway, drawing his attention to the dead end.
In the dappled shadows a couple stood, sharing an embrace. Except the girl was struggling, the scream that had drawn Angel's attention had faded, replaced by whimpers of pain. He moved deeper into the alleyway as the whimpers died off and the body sagged in the embrace. With a snarl, the blond head shot up and blood dripped from his lips, amber eyes of the demon fixing on Angel the teeth bared in a feral grin.
"Well, well, well, what have we got here? Come to save a girl from the big bad creature of the night?" Spike let the body drop lifelessly to the ground and morphed back to his human facade. "Too late."
"Spike," snarled Angel.
"Angel," grinned Spike, swaggering forward and stepping over the dead girl as he spread his arms wide. There was nothing but arrogance in the way he moved, casually stopping a few feet from the glowering vamp, and hooking his thumbs in his belt as his supercilious smirk fell away.
"What the hell are you playing at?"
"Thought that'd be obvious, mate. Dinner, have to stock up..." Spike took a step closer, licking his lips as his eyes darkened with an unmistakable hunger. "Got a little girl who likes to run me ragged..."
"Willow," growled Angel, the flecks of gold expanding and covering the usual brown. He couldn't move, although he didn't believe what Spike was suggesting, just the very thought of it infuriated him. "She wouldn't touch you..."
"Whereas you think she's just dying to get her hands on you?" Spike chuckled. The laughter echoed about the small dead end for a moment, before fading away and being replaced by an unsettled silence. Gold eyes stared into cold indigo depths and Spike's voice dropped to a low menacing growl. "Oh she does, peaches. She's like a wild animal, growls and snarls, screams like there's no tomorrow. They're sweet sounds, but nothing compared to when she screams my name...which, by the by, is a gloriously common event."
"Nice fantasy, Spike," Angel ground the words out through clenched teeth.
"Well, yours is...you should let her down off the pedestal sometime," Spike cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Let her take control...she loves that," the smirk grew. "God, the first time...she threw me to the ground and had her wicked way with me. Rode me ''til she had her fill, then had some more..."
Angel's fingernails dug deep into the palms of his hands, drawing blood. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Spike shrugged and tilted his head, leaning in close. "You can believe whatever you want. I know how fucking wanting she is, I smell it, I taste it, I consume it...you don't and you won't, mate."
Angel snapped, his balled up fist slamming into Spike's face, knocking the smirk off momentarily. The next punch was blocked, Spike easily anticipating the furious vampire's action and turning it to his advantage, landing one or two solid punches and easily kicking the other vampire's legs out from under him. Angel was on his back for one fleeting instant, even so by the time he had regained solid footing, Spike was backing away, the cocky grin firmly in place.
"Yeah, she likes to fuck...almost like she was built for it. Those long legs, tight little body, a mouth and hands that'll drive any man wild...not to mention," Spike brought one hand up to wipe the blood flowing from his already healing split lip and his face-hardened as his cold eyes fixed on the glowering Angel. "She likes to bite."
"Touch her..."
"Too late, thought we'd established that fact," Spike shook his head. "But you never were one to listen to what you didn't want to hear."
The demon that had been hovering surfaced as Angel charged forward, tangling his fists in his insolent childe's duster, and shoved him up against the brick wall. "What do you want? Why the hell are you here?"
"Simple," Spike stated, breaking the dark haired vampire's hold and beating him back with a few well aimed kicks and punches that sent him hurling into the side of the dumpster. The blow was hard enough to stun Angel and Spike slowly backed away. "I have what I want. Got to run, peaches, someone's waiting on me."
By the time Angel pushed himself off the ground the blond was gone. The alleyway was empty as was the street it led off and a quick sweep of the general area turned up nothing. The blond had managed an impressive and highly annoying disappearing act, something that made Angel growl. Or maybe it was the crude description of Spike's association with Willow that made him growl. The idea was ludicrous and he was convinced that the blond was lying, he had to be.
Spike had to be lying.
That one statement of denial held at bay the pure rage that consumed Angel as he made his way through the streets of Sunnydale. He could live with denial until he found Willow, had her firmly in his grasp and under his protection. Then the nonsense would end, Spike's accusations would be verified as nothing more than a malicious untruth and perhaps the blond's real reason for his return to Sunnydale would come to light.
First, he had to find Willow. The house was still empty and he was at a lost where to turn until he found himself walking down Buffy's street. With practiced ease he scaled the tree, walked the three paces across the roof and climbed through her bedroom window. The Slayer nearly had a heart attack when she turned away from her mirror to find him standing directly behind her. The initial shock was soon overcome.
"Hey you," Buffy greeted as she threw her arms about his neck. "I didn't know if I was going to see you tonight, what are you doing here?"
"Hey," Angel replied, automatically returning the embrace. His hands ran up her arms to pull them away and he moved to sit down on the edge of her bed. "I went to the Bronze, thought you all might be there."
"No, quiet night tonight. Xander is trying to find something in his room, I have strict instructions to call him at ten to make sure he hasn't been devoured by the mess monsters," Buffy smiled and sat astride his lap, her hands wandering along the collar of his coat. "That was a joke, you know, you could at least do the twitching of your lips..."
"Sorry, I just...what about Willow?" Angel asked as casually as he could, his hands coming to rest on the blonde's hips and Buffy shrugged, her smile wavering slightly.
"She was off sick today, but she called about half an hour ago," Buffy offered. Angel closed his eyes in relief and his head tumbled forward against her shoulder. Those few words were enough to still the rage, Willow had called, she was safe and undoubtedly Spike had been lying. Buffy's fingers laced through the dark locks and she dropped a kiss on the bowed head.
"Was she okay?" he had to hear it for himself and his arms wrapped around the Slayer's waist.
"Yeah, she's feeling better and she'll be back at school tomorrow." Buffy sweet words gave him peace of mind and, in thanks, he pressed his lips to her neck.
"What about now, tonight? Doesn't she want to catch up on missed schoolwork, is she coming over?"
The questions to Angel were those of a friend concerned. To the keen observer they were more of a man obsessed. To Buffy they were the questions of a boyfriend who wanted nothing more than to spend some quality necking time with his devoted girlfriend. Her fingers tightened their hold on his head and pulled him back from her neck.
"No," Buffy brushed her lips against Angel's. "She said she had other plans for tonight..."
**********
There was a blue post it note stuck over the call button to the elevator. On it, in purple ink, was a question mark. Spike frowned as he plucked the note away and pressed the button. The doors opened to reveal another note stuck to the back wall of the elevator. Snatching it away, Spike's frown grew into a smirk as he read the cryptic message.
Follow and obey to find and have.
Did he forget to tell the great wanker that the little girl also liked to play games? Pressing the up button, Spike spent the short trip musing over exactly what he would find in her apartment. The doors opened to reveal dozens of tea candles, flickering in their little glass holders and it took a moment for Spike to realize that they formed a path. Twisting and turning, they snaked through the living area of the apartment, eventually working their way under the archway that led into the bedroom. There was no doubt that was where his Queen was hidden away and he had to fight the urge simply to ignore the path and go straight to her. Instead, he took a step forward and read the first little note that was stuck to the floor between two candles.
"Don't pick me up. Keep following," Spike murmured and frowned. Perhaps the little girl knew him too well, for his natural instinct was to pick up every little note she'd written, he already held two of them. Shrugging it off, he shoved the other two notes into his pocket and walked on. The path led him toward one of the wing chairs and another note smugly sitting in between two candles. "Duster to chair."
Spike chuckled, she was going to strip him, slowly and surely. He followed the path and the directions, his belt was left on top of the stereo, which had been set to randomly play CDs, one boot was left on the coffee table, the other on the piano. The path continued to twist and turn, crossing itself several times, before finally leading to that glorious archway. By the time he stepped into the little alcove, which led to the bedroom, he was wearing only his jeans. Every single one of her demands had been carried out, she had ruled and he'd obeyed his Queen, as it always would be. Even as his eyes fell on the bed, messed up and covered in half-light as newly lit candles flickered, casting long shadows over the practically naked redhead, he still forced himself to follow the notes.
The button of his jeans was undone and he floated onto the next note, dropping his fly as it instructed. One more note and then he was caught in purgatory ~ it merely instructed him to lose the jeans, no 'shag me blind' or even to approach her. As the jeans fell to the floor, he stood still, waiting and watching the redhead on the bed.
The long black satin gloves, which she'd bought in New Orleans, were the only things that kept Willow from being completely naked, and they were busy. Slowly, languorously the satin fingers were caressing her skin, a stark contrast in color and sensation, and Spike watched, mesmerized. There was no doubt that she'd been playing for some time, not only was there the distinctive aroma of arousal, but the fingertips of one of the gloves were glistening. Rolling onto her stomach, she drew herself up onto her hands and knees, elegantly crawling over the rumpled bed to the end, like some lioness about to pounce on unsuspecting prey.
Only her prey was more than willing and it was taking all of his restraint not to move. So much so that he trembled with the force of it all, something that was not lost on Willow. Sitting back on folded legs, she beckoned him forward with one satin clad hand.
"Why didn't you tell me that satin feels so good on bare skin?" she asked, her hands coming to rest on his hips momentarily, before curling around to tease his stomach and languidly moving up to caress his chest.
"You never asked," Spike stated and Willow giggled, slapping his hands away when he tried to touch her.
"Did I say you could touch me?" Willow hissed and Spike shook his head in acknowledgement, she was still playing. Titling her head, she pinched his nipples hard enough to make him flinch ever so slightly. "You'd probably not have told me if I'd asked anyway."
"I tell you what you need to know," he whispered, dropping his head to try and catch her lips. She pulled back, turning her head sharply, with those words the game ended and Willow dropped her hands down beside her, suddenly weary of it all.
"Do you?" she asked, running her gloved hand through her hair, knowing she wouldn't get an answer.
Spike smiled and caught that hand, bringing it up to his lips. With a sweep of his tongue he confirmed what he'd suspected, the satin was soaked with her natural lubrication. Surrendering to his own needs, he suckled on the tips, savoring the unique taste that was his Queen. Her free hand strayed to his hair, gently stroking the platinum locks as he continued to suckle on her fingers. The sweet taste wetted his appetite and made him ravenous, he could have happily pushed her back onto the bed, spread her legs and drank until he had his fill. Willow had other plans.
Pulling her fingers away, she let him have her mouth instead, her tongue eagerly seeking out his while her satin clad hands wandered. It was no end of wonder to her how his muscles would move under her touch, flexing and sometimes trembling. The lithe body was packed with power and he fought to curb it when he was with her, she could tell that just by the way he moved and it was exasperating. But the restraint was precarious at the best of times, all it took was for her to appeal to his baser instincts by scratching or biting, challenging him to let go, the self-control would collapse and she would revel in the pure power of the demon. Even now, as her gloved fingers wrapped around his achingly hard cock, she could feel the restraint crumbling away, his mouth demanding as one of his arms crushed her to him.
This was the best part of the power play, teasing him into a frenzy and that was her power, she could do it without fail. Pushing him away, she broke the kiss, gasping for breath. The hand that he'd been so happy to suckle on, brushed across his lips and he latched onto it, catching the soft satin that covered her index finger between his teeth. With a giggle, Willow moved back up the bed, pulling her hand free from the captured glove. He followed her, as she knew he would, his lips methodically working over her exposed skin. Pausing at the juncture of her thighs, he rubbed his nose against the damp curls, his tongue meandering amongst them as he bit lightly against the soft mound of flesh.
"No," Willow stated, her fingers tangling in the short hair and pulling him away. It was easy, using the hold on his hair and a gloved hand on his chest, to force him onto his back. Or at least that was the impression, Willow had no delusions that she was any match for him in physical strength, but he was willing to play her game. So he submitted to her desires, laying back against the bed as she moved above him, her mouth voraciously devouring his.
There were no protests from her as one of his hands wandered down between their bodies, his thumb teasing her clit, his fingers guiding his cock as, with a sharp thrust of her hips, she impaled herself. Breaking the kiss, she pushed herself back against him, taking him deep, her gloved hand resting on his chest as she sat up, a look of pure satisfaction on her face. Spike smirked, watching as she stretched, arching her back and rolling her head back, eyes closed in contentment. Slowly, she initiated a rhythm, a gentle rolling of her hips, guided by Spike's hands in the small of her back. Her hand left his chest, one single finger meandering along his stomach, impatiently caressing his flesh until she was able to touch her own, sighing at the delightful sensation of satin against her skin.
"Promise me something, Spike," she murmured, opening her eyes to find his firmly fixed on her as he met her slow thrusts.
"What, love?" he tilted his head, a lascivious smile gracing his lips as his hands left her back to run over her heated flesh and both her hands dropped back down to his chest.
"Promise me it'll always be like this, just you and me," she smiled, her bare hand caressing his chest as the satin encased one slipped down to his stomach. "That it won't change ever."
"Do you want it to be?" he cupped her breasts, squeezing them, eliciting a hard thrust from the redhead.
"Yes," her smile grew as she spanned her hand across his chest, over his dead heart. The smile gave way to a frown as she puzzled over the sensation beneath her hand and she stilled her movement. Her eyes fixed on his. "You're warm..."
"I've just fed. Two kids 'bout your age," Spike dropped his hands back down to her hips, squeezing slightly as his thumbs caressed her stomach, still holding her gaze. "I can promise you that nothing is going to change...you and me, nothing more, nothing less. Is that what you want?"
Willow was silent and she had to force herself to pull her eyes away from his, her gaze dropping back down to her hand on his chest. The warmth was already fading, she could feel it dying under her fingertips. Nothing was going to change, he wasn't going to change for her and that was exactly what she'd asked him to promise.
"Your choice, Willow," his hand covered hers on his chest, gently caressing the skin. "You and me, that's all it'll ever be."
She glanced back up at his face, there was nothing there, he was waiting for an answer. Using his chest as a lever, she pushed herself back, starting up the rhythm she'd abandoned, her eyes fixed on his. "Promise?"
Spike smiled, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing the palm. "For eternity and a day."
With a ecstatic growl he spun them, looming over the startled redhead. Before she had a chance to say anything else, his mouth crashed down on hers, silencing the words and replacing them with moans of carnal delight. The demon, in all his glorious power, was with her, pure and animalistic.
And Willow reveled in it.
Until they were both sated and spent, curled about each other in sweat soaked sheets. Her body still held warmth and his, as her fingers traced nonsensical patterns over his chest, did not. Cautiously, she moved, slowly inching away from his sleeping form. It was odd to watch him, never knowing if he was truly sleeping or if he merely had his eyes closed, there was no way to tell. So, as she slipped off the bed, she held her breath and waited. Nothing happened and she turned away.
Space, distance, Willow needed those at the moment. There were so many thoughts twisting themselves about her mind that they were giving her a headache. The living room still held the tea candles, although a few of them had flickered out, and Spike's clothes were scattered about, exactly where she had told him to leave them. Sighing, she turned off the stereo system and made her way over to the huge windows. It couldn't have been later than midnight, if that, so the blinds were still open, the nightscape clearly visible. There must have been people still up and about, undoubtedly some were foolish enough to be out walking alone in the dark. It was that sort of stupidity, ignorance and in some cases arrogance that would get them killed...and not just by the demon population, anyone looking for a thrill kill, easy lay or quick cash could just as easily take advantage of them. It wasn't fair, but then again the world wasn't a fair place and it never would be.
Disgusted with her own melancholy train of thoughts, she walked away from the window, taking the closest seat on the piano stool and raised an eyebrow at Spike's battered old boot sitting in the middle of the lid of the piano. It was reflected in the smooth surface, a dimly lit twin, laces and buckle all askew. Nonchalantly, her fingers caressed the smooth white keys and she wondered if it were real ivory...and if it was? Didn't really seem relevant, especially as Spike silently slipped in behind her, his hands massaging her tense shoulders. He was as naked and exposed as she was.
"Maybe I should go," Willow turned her head slightly and his fingers swept down her arms to entwine with hers on the keys.
"Why?" Spike whispered the question against her ear, his lips trailing up to kiss her temple as she remained silent. "Is there someone waiting on you?"
"No," she knew there was no one, having briefly spoken to Buffy while Spike was out earlier on. With a sigh, she leant back against his chest, her head resting against his shoulder. She was sleepy and contented, the restlessness of before seemingly lost in his embrace.
"Then stay with me, love."
"Okay," Willow wrapped her hands around his confining arms. "If you play something for me..."
It was a silly request. Willow expected chopsticks, she got Schumann.
Across town in her room, in the dark sat Angel, watching as the digital alarm clock ticked over the minutes until midnight. Then he left, slamming the glass doors so hard that one of them shattered.
To Be Continued
