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Author's Chapter Notes:
I am so, so grateful to everyone that reviewed the last chapter. It feels good to know people are reading. I hope you enjoy this one. :)
Chapter Nine


Willow seethed, black-coiling hatred setting like hardened cement inside her.

“You’re off your tree if you think the witch is reformed.”

She had half a mind to show Spike how fast a non-reformed witch could turn him into a pile of dust. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t be shown up by a monster—not when she’d lose everything that meant anything to her in the process.

They hadn’t known she was so close when they’d started talking about Warren and his merry band of nerds. It had been a mistake really, just a moment where she’d wanted to ask Buffy about the clumpy-looking confetti the Slayer had worn into the reception lounge. While fury whipped through her veins at the audacity of the three extremely incompetent human would-be enemies at disrupting Xander’s wedding and possibly returning Buffy to the grave, she’d been just as jarred by Spike’s vicious accusations. Just what the hell made him think he had any right to open his mouth and cast dispersions against her?

What made him think he knew her at all?

A mixture of shame and animosity kept the redhead off-balance as she struggled to regain a measure of calmness. Vengeance spells whipped through mind with a fury to be cast and it was all she could do to hold back the nearly desperate urge to let loose. She had no idea how this level of hatred for Spike had developed and only peripherally did she realise that it might be more than a little out of character. For years she’d wavered between being fearful and just annoyed that he was still around them, but never had she reacted so violently toward his presence before. Seeing him with Buffy and noticing how receptive her friend had been to his touch had set off something spectacular in her system and the forcibly dormant magic rumbled to a furious roar for its will to be done. For its power to be noticed.

She couldn’t explain it and for a brief moment she questioned herself why she even needed to. Buffy obviously was still having readjustment issues and had allowed herself to be manipulated by a masterly, skilled vampire. Tolerating Spike had been much easier when he was aware of his place in their group, but now he’d dared to seduce Buffy and it had the powerful witch incensed.

She was supposed to be cooling it with magic, and even though she was trying harder to live without it than she believed necessary, little things slipped out. Like offering a calming tonic to Xander when it looked like he was going to run out the door rather than walk down the aisle. Automatic offers to help relieve pain and stress were second nature to her and while it wasn’t doing her any favours, Willow was thoroughly of the opinion that the reaction it had received was well above excessive. Sure, if Tara had heard it she’d be in a world of trouble now, and Willow probably would have had to grovel half the night for the sensitive witch not to leave.

And now this.

The temper boiling within her made Willow pause. It really bugged her that no one had any faith in her. Buffy might have argued with Spike that Willow had the recovery thing in the bag, but the redhead had still seen the uncertainty in the Slayer’s eyes. Buffy didn’t know if she could trust her, her best friend, and that really hurt.

In a weak second of reason, Willow could see that maybe Buffy had little choice. Her own reaction to the two super beings kissing had been particularly violent and rather than endear her to the vampire, it had exposed her intolerant reaction to the relationship. And with the Slayer newly dating the chipped monster, Buffy’s loyalties would have felt divided in the extreme.

Willow’s emotional attack would have been a surprise, that’s for sure. It wasn’t exactly something she’d planned or expected herself to do. But meek, weak Willow was no more and maybe it was a good thing she’d lost control and people started seeing her for the threat she really was. Or not so much a threat as a force to be reckoned with—someone no longer to be trodden on, pushed to the side or ignored.

She’d lost control.

It was the thing hiding in the shadows that she didn’t want to acknowledge. Didn’t want to admit to herself, let alone others. All summer she’d been nothing but control and it made her feel queasy that since the big thing had been achieved—since they had Buffy back alive and well—Willow, the all-powerful witch, was losing it.

It wasn’t a good feeling once she’d allowed the thought to take hold. Losing control was one thing, but having it witnessed and then receiving exacting punishments for her lapse was humiliating and thoroughly unfair.

And then there was Spike. Having her friends see her fall so far from grace was something she’d never wanted, but having Spike there with a front row seat while she overdosed on Rack’s gift…that was too much for the formerly mousy redhead to take.

So she was back to seething, and while she hated how it made her feel, Willow was unable to think of a way to calm herself down. Hate for the vampire that had muscled in on her turf surged powerfully until all Willow could see was his smirk as he laughed at her. He’d known about Rack—knew how powerful and dark the magic user was—and he’d led Buffy straight to her least impressive moment. It was just bad luck that Dawn managed to get hurt as well.

What was she going to do about Spike?

Willow wanted to dust him once and for all, and she knew doing it would be a breeze. The only thing that was saving him was that Tara would probably never return to her if she found out. And Buffy; somehow Willow didn’t think Buffy would ever forgive her, even if it was finally exposed that Spike had managed to thrall or coerce her into something she didn’t really want. And that was intolerable.

Wringing her hands miserably, Willow admitted that she didn’t have the power she’d had earlier in the summer. Not anymore. While the magic would zap easily from her fingertips, her support and cheering squad had re-shaped into a suspicious and do-gooder bunch of friends. Judging by Xander’s acceptance of Spike at the wedding, Willow was positive that her opinion would now be in the minority. Unfortunately, Spike was safe—at least for now.

Willow flopped on her bed and pouted. It was warm and she wanted her window open, but her raised hand lingered in the air as the required words died on her lips. She’d made a promise to give up magic, to prove to Tara and Buffy that she didn’t need it. That she was capable of being herself without it.

Problem was, she didn’t like the side of herself that was weak. She didn’t like that she was on probation while Spike wheedled his way between Buffy’s legs and became a bona-fide member of the group that had always determinedly kept him out.

Well, it was all on Buffy’s head. She’d see, sooner or later, that dating Spike was a mistake. Willow completely failed to see what the Slayer saw in him. Sure, he was good-looking in a creepy, axe-murderer kind of way, and he was good in a bind, not to mention a rather skilled Dawn-sitter. But he was still a vampire, and totally soulless and no matter what he did for Buffy now, he’d still rip her throat out later.

Willow didn’t believe that it was Buffy that needed to worry just yet, though. The witch sat up and her body shook, nerves finally reacting and making her freeze. It wasn’t that Buffy had finally fallen for his sappy love story that had Willow wigged; it was the fact that the demon still vibrated with evil and he recognised in her what none of her friends had. Yes, Tara had glimpsed something—a lapse—and started with her predictable warnings that too much magic was a bad thing—a disrespectful thing—but she hadn’t guessed at the swirling secrets and shadows that had begun to blight Willow’s parasitic soul. The magic she’d wielded on her own was reaching an end to its boundaries and Willow wanted so much more. Amy had led her into a world she’d never dreamed of, though she likely should have, given where she lived, but even being fed by Rack had seemed like a waning high.

For now what he’d offered had been heady and illuminating; something Willow had been forbidden to touch ever again. This moment she felt strong, able to turn her head from his lure and the desire to be powerful—the most powerful—but for how long could she sustain this lacklustre, ordinary existence?

It was uncertain and yet now Spike was breathing down her neck, waiting quietly to pounce the very second she failed. Willow was beyond questioning the when. The very depths of her were already calling for the rush that a burst of borrowed magic gave and no amount of wanting Tara to forgive her would hold the craving back. For now she could silent her talent. For now she could convince herself and everyone around her that giving up was a piece of cake and maybe Tara would once again cradle her head against her breast, stroking her hair and making her feel like she was the most important girl in all the world.

For now, she could succeed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Buffy was so tired.

She should have guessed—had she not been busy the past few months ignoring every sign of life around her—that with the amount of planning Anya had put into her monumental day, fun and frivolity would last late into the night. Buffy felt like she’d crawled home, her senses more switched on for demon intruders than her eyes, which were pried open with nothing but determination and could only be relied upon for seeing. But then her slayer abilities seemed dulled after being in the vicinity of such a large range of demons for so much of the night and she was rather content to let it slide in favour of recalling the tingling hours spent swaying in Spike’s arms on the dance floor. He’d propped her up almost stubbornly as they’d shuffled back to her house, neither of them in any hurry to rush away from the other’s company.

Once she was finally poised on her porch steps, brandishing the key that would allow her entry to the final leg of her trek to much needed rest, her blood started pumping like a steam engine through her veins, waking her up faster than a bucket of ice water would have done.

Spike stood a couple steps below and stared at her, a dreamy smile on his lips and a hand causally in his pocket. He looked so happy, so content and Buffy knew without a doubt that she’d stop breathing unless he entered her house and spent the night beside her. Nothing more, just his presence on her pillow and his hand at her waist.

“There’s still the no sex rule,” Buffy reminded, taking his hand and tugging him gently toward the door.

Spike tilted his head and studied her, confusion giving way to that little cocky smile she’d convinced herself she hated but secretly found incredibly sexy and suggestive.

“Not my restraint you’ll need to be worried about then, is it,” the vampire taunted and Buffy flushed bright red. There was no point in arguing when she knew he was likely right. Resistance had always been futile from the first moment she’d given in to him in the dilapidated old house. As the floor had disintegrated beneath them, so had every one of her defences against the way he’d made her body sing.

There was no explaining the differences between this time and that. She’d been angry, fed up and bitter at the world she’d been cruelly returned to and taking it out on Spike had seemed like the most natural thing to do. He’d roused her passion so furiously and taken every one of her barbs that she’d almost believed he deserved it. Whether that coupling had been a curse for him or a reward, Buffy was still left wondering. But now it was different, and hopefully she’d be able to sleep with his arms surrounding her and they’d both recognise the new playing field for the superior experience it would be.

Spike followed her up the stairs to her room. Both paused for barely a second outside Willow’s door, hearing the redhead ranting and arguing quietly with herself and realising now was a really bad time for her to find them together. Moving on, Buffy led Spike into her room and then shut the door behind them, locking it and hoping that her luck would hold out and Willow was still doing the no-magic thing.

Nerves clashed together and Buffy broke out into a chilled sweat. She couldn’t believe they’d reached this moment. All that time she’d been intimate with Spike and never once had she allowed the possibility of him lying at her side in her own bed. This was real. God, so real, and now that it was happening she couldn’t breathe properly.

She desperately wanted to feel his tender touch on her skin, but would it be cruel to offer a taste when she was sure that going further would be a mistake? Could she even trust her own desires to stay under control?

Trust.

By giving herself and Spike this chance, she had to trust him. She had to trust in the depth of his feelings or she was going to drive herself crazy second guessing every move either of them made. This should be natural. They’d spent enough time with each other for her to know that she did enjoy his company. It had never been all about the sex; if she’d been open to it all along, they could have come a long way, They could have had caring between them as well as mind-blowing sex. They could have had love.

Buffy inhaled deeply at the realisation and felt like slapping herself for all the useless, lost time.

In the blink of that second, Buffy knew that her hands-off rule was doing nothing but driving them both out of their minds. She wasn’t going to say anything, content to see what Spike would make of it, but she didn’t even turn away from him as she casually stripped off her shocking bridesmaids dress and donned her sleep shorts and top. Spike’s eyes bugged and she smiled, but then lethargy overwhelmed her and Buffy climbed into her bed, pulling back the covers and inviting Spike to crawl under.

Boots and coat were kicked off and dumped over a chair and then Spike almost tore his black dress shirt from his torso. He stepped to the bed in his jeans and Buffy raised a brow. She knew how he slept—even when she wasn’t around to reap the benefit. With a confident leer, Spike slowly unzipped and shed his jeans, standing proudly erect before finally climbing in and settling at Buffy’s side. His arm fell around her shoulders and Buffy wasted no time snuggling in deep, revelling in the cool flesh against her forearm and the lure of male hardness just a little lower.

“Goodnight, Spike,” she whispered sleepily, kissing his abs before finally giving in to sleep.

Spike sighed, and then smiled. It was all in the small steps and if he wasn’t mistaken, Buffy was almost ready to take a leap.





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