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Spike heaved a sigh of relief. He still had the basement to himself, since it was so full of training equipment there wasn’t room for any more sleeping space besides his little cot.
He was so used to being alone that dealing with a bunch of people was kinda stressful. He reached under his cot and pulled out something which he knew would relax him...
Spike spun around, prepared to attack, as he heard a someone clearing their throat behind him.
Willow started back in alarm at seeing his readiness. “Spike! It’s just me.”
He was about to calm down, when he realized he was brandishing his book at her, ready to use it as a weapon. Several thoughts collided in his head:
I was ready to use a book as a weapon! That’s.... that’s... sacrilegious!... Oh, bloody hell, I am a soddin’ poof!
was warring with
Oh shit, the Wicca saw my book... there goes my rep as a Big Bad... not that I really have one any more...
and also there was the fact that
I was so wrapped up I didn’t even sense her, I’m losing it...
“Uh, Spike?” Willow said warily. What’s wrong with him? And is that... a book of poetry?
He shook his head, realizing he’d been standing there silently for a moment. In one quick, fluid movement, he turned, replacing the book back to its hiding spot, and pivoted back around to Willow. Trying to cover his nervousness, he asked, “Yeah, Red, whatsup?”
“Nothing really, I just, well, wanted to talk. To you. I haven’t, I mean, we haven’t, you know, talked, lately, and... some other people mentioned talking to you so I was thinking maybe I should to. Oh! Not that I’m doing this just because they did, but I mean them saying they talked to you gave me the idea to talk to you-”
Spike cut short her babbling with a chuckle. He sat back on his cot, gesturing for her to resume her seat.
“Yeah, we should talk. I would’ve talked to you sooner, only you were usually busy with the research, or the meditating, or Kennedy...” Spike waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively as he mentioned the S.I.T.’s name.
Spike noticed that Willow blushed slightly, and .... that expression on her face... that wasn’t guilt, was it? Hmmm....
Spike slyly added, “S’good to see ya with her. I’m sure Glinda’d be pleased to see you so happy. I know it musta been tough, you two love-birds were close....” He stopped, wondering if he’d gone a bit too far with reminding Willow of her lover’s death.
“Really? I mean, you think... you think Tara would be glad to see me with .... another girl?”
“Hell yeah! You think she would want you to be unhappy?”
“Well, no-” Willow started.
Spike interrupted. “ ‘Cause I may not have known her very well, but I know she loved you and I know she was a nice person. Prob’ly the nicest one I ever knew, next to Joyce.”
“R-really?” Willow stammered....
To Willow’s surprise, she found that Spike could be very reassuring when he wanted to be. He sounded so sure about Tara... She was starting to understand why Buffy had gone to talk to him after she was brought back... well, before they started ‘shagging,’ as Spike would say. But there was one thing that still bothered her. She hadn’t talked about it with anyone, but maybe Spike would be ok to tell...
“But.. I guess I feel like...” Willow trailed off, looking away.
Spike leaned forward, looking at her, concerned. “Go on, Red.”
“....like being with another girl means letting go of Tara,” she finished softly. She started crying. “Until Kennedy, she was never gone. She was with me. We should have been forever, and I— I let her be dead. She's really dead. And I killed her,” Willow sobbed.
Spike stroked her back comfortingly, and made soothing noises.
His harsh words were at odds with his gentle tone. “That’s rot. Absolute rot. And I’m sure Tara would think so, too. Until Kennedy, you were hangin’ on to a memory, not lettin’ yourself move on. That’s not- that’s not real. An’ you can love someone else besides Tara and still treasure her memory.... oh, listen t’ me, I sound like a bleedin’ poof.”
Willow laughed through her tears at this.
Spike smiled. Knew I could get a laugh outta her.
Willow started to calm down, hiccuping softly.
The vampire asked quietly, “You ok now?”
She nodded. “Thanks, Spike,” she said shyly.
“Anytime, Red, anytime. I’m used to the tears. Shoulda seen me right after I got this soul. I bawled like a baby for days.”
Willow looked at him, interested, hoping he’d continue. Spike’d been very reluctant to talk about his experience in Africa. To her dismay, he changed the subject.
They got to talking about old times, laughing about the incident where Spike had tried to bite Willow. She’d reassured him about his ‘impotence,’ and he’d assured her that he’d thought of biting her before, that he wasn’t just biting her ‘cause Buffy wasn’t there.
They debated about the Chumash Indian attack, Willow still insisting that violence hadn’t been the answer.
Carefully, both avoided mention of Willow’s ‘let-my-will-be-done’ spell. Willow still felt guilty about that, and the memory of the one time he had Buffy the way he wanted her was too painful for Spike.
Eventually Willow brought up the fact that she saw some similarities between them, such as the once evil but now good thing. They both knew what it was like to lose loved ones (Spike nearly broke down, remembering the summer without Buffy). Both had had lovers whom others didn’t approve of or understand.
Spike knew there was one more similarity between them, but he hesitated. “Can you keep a secret, Red?”
Willow’s face lit up. A secret about Spike was bound to be interesting. “Sure!” she chirped.
“Well...” Do I really want to tell her this? “When I was human, before I met Dru, I was a complete dork.”
Willow burst out laughing. “What! You?!!”
“Yep.” He looked rather abashed, and Willow struggled to control her laughter.
Finally, she caught her breath enough to say, “So, was that really a poetry book I saw you holding?”
“Wha’! No... no, I said I was a dork then, not now... Oh, bloody hell, all right, yes, it was. At least I don’t write ‘em any more.”
“You used to write poetry?”
“Yep. Tha’s how I got th’ name ‘William the Bloody,’ ‘cause of my ‘bloody awful’ poetry.”
She giggled. She’d been right, Spike’s secret was certainly very interesting! And that did explain some things... he certainly had a poet’s heart, that was for certain.
“I always assumed it was ‘cause you were a murderer when you were alive or something. That’s... wow... that’s just... funny,” Willow concluded, snickering. Seeing the woebegone expression on his face, she added, “Well, sorry, but it is.”
He relaxed. “Yeah, I guess so.”
A comfortable hush descended.
After several minutes of silent reflection, Willow broke the silence.
“What are you going to do?”
Spike took a moment to respond, thinking that he didn’t understand her question because he’d been so lost in his own thoughts. He reviewed her words, and decided he still didn’t get it.
“Uh, could you be a bit more specific, luv?”
“What? Oh! Right, sorry. I meant what are you going to do about Buffy. To make her mad I mean.”
“I’ve got some ideas. Might need some help.”
“Anything I can do...”
He shook his head. “Nah, I think I might need the Watcher’s help... to lure her out with just me. That might take some doing.”
“Oh... yeah...”
Silence once again.
Willow voiced her thoughts. “You’re planning on making her really, really pissed at you, aren’t you?”
“What? Oh. Yeah...”
She took a deep breath. “Aren’t you afraid she’ll stake you?”
“I’ll fight her, if I have to. Hell, I might throw the first punch, depending on how things go.”
“But don’t you think this whole making her mad thing might ruin your relationship with her?”
Spike laughed bitterly. “I don’t have much of a ‘relationship’ with her right now, anyway. And besides,” he added a bit more quietly, “I’d rather that she never speaks to me again and lives, than have her dying.”
Willow wondered if she would have the strength to do what he was proposing. Could she have made Tara mad at her, purposefully made Tara hate her, so that Tara could live?
Of course, the situation is entirely different here... she reminded herself. Buffy and Spike always fight... but still... he really does love her and want what’s best for her...
“I’d better get going, Spike. Thanks for... everything. We should do this again sometime,” Willow said, rising.
Showing his gentlemanly side, Spike stood as she did. “We should. See you later, Red.”
She stared at him for a second, before impulsively going over to him and throwing her arms around him in a big hug. He stood stock still, shocked, before finally relaxing and hugging her back, with a huge smile on his face. He felt more accepted than ever before.
Willow pulled out of the hug, and gave him a shy peck on the cheek before heading upstairs. “Good luck with Buffy,” she called as she left.