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BtVS:Change The Addiction (9/9) - Willow/Spike - FRAO/NC-17
Hey all! I'm both excited and a little sad to bring you the last chapter of my Spike/Willow tale. I'm so grateful to the readers who've chosen to take this journey with me and I hope that this ending will satisfy you in some way. :)
Title: Change the Addiction (9/9)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 2017
Overall Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17 for sexual situations and language
Setting: An alternate route from Season 6 - "Wrecked"
Summary: The best way to get over an addiction is to change it...
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spikesredqueen and velvetwhip. I couldn't have gotten here without you.
A/N: Well over a year ago, I started writing the Addiction Series based off a drabble I did for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
btvsats_love that explored what Season 6 might be like if Spike had been part of Willow's magic intervention. It never got where I wanted it to, and this is my shot to look at it again with fresher eyes.
A/N 2: Dedicated to my lovelyblondebitz who's celebrating her birthday this week!
Previous Chapters
Fromblondebitz
Fromangelstoy
In the midst of Willow’s heartfelt toast to Xander, Spike can’t help but notice the deadly, scornful glint in the Slayer’s eyes. It’s a bit of a surprise to see her seething about his relationship with Willow, considering the attitude she usually takes towards him. Nothing like a good dose of jealousy to convince a woman that she missed out on something worth her while…
He leans back in the hard folding chair, linking his fingers together, and resting his palms on top of his stomach. As the orchestrated sounds of clinking crystal fill his ears, he returns his focus to the grinning redhead sitting at the table and watches her bring the champagne flute to her lips. She’s far more distracting to look at then the Slayer, even though her beauty is far more subtle. Her eyelashes flutter in pleasure as the sweet, bubbly taste flows over her tongue and he imagines he could increase that sensation ten-fold just by strolling up there and capturing her lips in an erotic, uninhibited kiss.
It doesn’t take long for the fantasy to unfold in front of him. He can picture her sitting on top of the table, thighs spread over the lacy white table covering, with that green dress torn to tatters on the floor. His fingers would trace the delicate curve of her breasts, would tweak the cherry points of her nipples until her body lost its patience and her legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer to her.
But he wouldn’t give in to her demands just then. Instead, he would pick up a bottle of champagne and slowly, tortuously, pour the liquid into the valley between her breasts. He would tease her to the edge of excitement with his tongue, heighten the scent of her desire and arousal, make her body come alive with tingling electricity. And when he was satisfied that she’d had enough, that’s when he would unzip his pants and plunge inside her. Her body would writhe and thrash as he thrust away inside her. Her muscles would clench and milk him, draining him of the drug he so willingly gave her. She would scream his name as the waves of orgasm and bliss poured through her, and her gorgeous eyes would speak volumes of the love she had for him.
Love?
Is he really falling in love with the witch? The physical connection is there, the emotional connection is there, the swarm of feelings tightening around his heart is there, so it certainly couldn’t hurt to jump to that conclusion…
“You’re sick, Spike.”
Spike grimaces, the fantasy shattering like the pyramid of champagne flutes that had been knocked over earlier by one of the tentacle demons. He twists his head towards the accusing tone, and immediately locks eyes with Buffy, acutely aware of how much his feelings toward her have changed. There’s not an ounce of his being that’s addicted to her anymore.
He shrugs, a cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What of it, Slayer?”
“You’ve got no right placing those filthy, sick hands on Willow. God, Spike, I knew you had some fucked up fantasies, but what are you really accomplishing by trying to make the googly eyes with a lesbian?! Do you honestly think you have a chance with her? Is this your twisted way of replacing me?” Buffy sticks out her tongue in disgust. “And I thought your sex doll was the lowest you could go. Clearly, I was way wrong.”
Spike snorts, nostrils flaring in annoyance. She’s so blind to what’s going around her. So blind to the words Willow said downstairs, and the moment by the stairwell that happened right underneath her God. Damn. Nose. No wonder Buffy didn’t pick up on the struggles Willow was having with magic; the girl has never learned to open her eyes past boys, and clothes, and demons. “Clearly, you don’t know your friend.”
“Clearly,” Buffy punctuates the word, gritting her teeth to keep her volume low. “Willow’s been drugged or under some sort of spell, because no one in their right mind would ever fall in love with you.”
“Then I must be in my wrong mind because falling in love with Spike just happens to be what I did.”
Willow’s hand touches his shoulder; and Spike visibly relaxes against her as if she’s the shield he needs to protect him from Buffy’s verbal assault. Cinnamon and strawberries permeate his nostrils as her lovely hair brushes over his cheek. Part of him can’t believe that she’s choosing his corner over Buffy’s, but it’s really no different than her choosing to be with him despite Xander’s earlier protests.
“W-Willow,” Buffy stammers, obviously caught off guard by her friend’s presence, shoulder muscles bunching as a new found tension coils inside her gut. “I thought you were…”
“Why don’t you just tell me why falling in love with Spike is such a bad thing? You seemed to be on board before,” Willow replies softly. She didn't totally believe that Buffy had been on board downstairs either, but it seems like the right thing to say in this moment. The right words to get them over this particular hump.
“Because I…,” Buffy starts, glancing over at Spike. There are so many secrets between them that it’s hard to know where to start. He knows more than anyone how much it hurts her to be back among the living. He knows her shame, her guilt. He knows how her lips taste, knows how much she hates him for getting under her skin. And here’s Willow admitting her own secret about Spike, and it just seems so effortless. Buffy doesn’t understand that because she has never been able to tell anyone about the things she did to herself, the things she let Spike do.
“Because it’s not you?” Willow finishes quietly, feeling Spike flinch underneath her touch. “He gave up stalking you to be with me and now you’re jealous, aren’t you? If you can’t have him, no one can?”
It’s the look he can instantly see on Buffy’s face that triggers a victorious smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. With that insightful mind of hers, Willow just hit the nail on the head, breaking apart the knot tying Spike and Buffy together, and Spike can’t help but love her for it. It’s about time someone let that cat out of the bag.
“It’s not like that,” Buffy murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Spike’s just complicated and dark and you don’t need to be involved with that. I want you to be happy, Willow, but I know Spike isn’t the person who can give you that.”
Willow shakes her head in disagreement, a flicker of resolve crossing her face. “It shouldn’t matter if you think he’s the guy for me or not, Buffy. And I’ll have you know that I’m a pretty complicated and dark chick myself. Or at least I was. Spike helped me change that.”
Buffy’s face softens, and she reaches out to touch her friend’s arm. “Willow, we’re friends. If you needed my help, you could’ve said something.”
“I couldn’t say anything,” Willow replies, sadness tingeing her voice. “Couldn’t say anything because I knew that if you knew, you would leave me just like Tara did. I couldn’t go without using magic, couldn’t stop once I started. I finally had this shot at this secret dark thrill, the thrill of being something more than a Scooby sidekick. So I went for it as hard and fast as I could. I went so deep that I didn’t even notice I was drowning.”
She takes a deep breath, and tightens her grip on Spike’s shoulder. Her audience has grown a bit since she opened her mouth. She can see the compassion in Xander’s eyes, the annoyance in Anya’s, and the sweet giddiness in Dawn’s. Dawn is probably the least surprising of the three as Willow guesses she’s probably more excited about being a part of the grown-up conversation than anything else.
“Spike never made me explain why I fell into the water. He just pulled me out of it and did what he had to in order to make me better.”
“That’s all well and good, Willow, but can we please remember that this is my wedding day,” Anya retorts, arms akimbo. “I should be the center of attention here.”
Xander shakes his head, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her tight to him. “An, I think it will be okay if we just give her this one moment.”
It could either be the gentle squeezing from the hug, or the feel of Xander’s manhood pressing against her back through the folds of her gown, but the former vengeance demon drops the pout and lets someone else have their turn to respond.
“Awww,” Dawn coos excitedly. “That’s like the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. And since we’re at a wedding, that’s pretty hard to manage since the whole ‘I do’ thing is supposed to be all perfect and lovey-dovey and stuff.”
Anya narrows her eyes to slits, and if it weren’t for Xander’s tight grip on the woman, Willow’s positive that the next event they’d be going to would be Dawnie’s funeral.
“Dawn?” Buffy asks, jumping into the big sister role and further ensuring that Dawn stays out of trouble. “How ‘bout you go check on the punch bowl? I’m sure with the way Xander’s family drinks things with fruit in it, that it probably needs a refill.”
With an exaggerated sigh and a pouty lip, Dawn flounces off towards the buffet table and it doesn’t take long before she’s chatting up one of the younger, cuter-looking demons whose only flaw is having Spock ears.
After a few minutes of pregnant silence, interrupted only once by Xander’s cousin Carol come to snag Xander and Anya for a few post-wedding photo ops, Buffy finally speaks up. “Willow…I want you to know that you can come to me for anything, and if having feelings for Spike is what you need to come clean about…then fine. But if he hurts you in any way, shape, or form, he’s gonna know what it feels like to be gone with the wind.”
She pauses, shooting Spike a patented death glare and patting the inside sleeve of her dress where it becomes readily apparent that she’s packing a stake and is not afraid to use it. Feeling satisfied that her threat is firmly hanging in the air between them, she glances over at Dawn who has upgraded from talking to the Spock demon to wrapping her arms around his shoulders and dancing with him.
“But I think I need to go check on that punch bowl…” Six more stitches rip in Buffy’s dress as she pivots and heads off towards the buffet table, but it doesn’t even break her stride. Most likely because the wedding’s over and she officially gets to stop caring about the hideous green cylinder with sleeves that she’s been squeezed into.
They both watch her leave, and Willow turns back to Spike and leans down to press her lips against his. If change had a taste, she’s sure his tongue is coated in it, because she finally feels like she’s not only changed the addiction, she’s changed who she is just by learning how to incorporate the light with the darkness.
And she can tell by the way he pulls her down into his lap that he’s learned to do the same.
Title: Change the Addiction (9/9)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 2017
Overall Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17 for sexual situations and language
Setting: An alternate route from Season 6 - "Wrecked"
Summary: The best way to get over an addiction is to change it...
Beta:
spikesredqueen and velvetwhip. I couldn't have gotten here without you.A/N: Well over a year ago, I started writing the Addiction Series based off a drabble I did for
btvsats_love that explored what Season 6 might be like if Spike had been part of Willow's magic intervention. It never got where I wanted it to, and this is my shot to look at it again with fresher eyes. A/N 2: Dedicated to my lovely
blondebitz who's celebrating her birthday this week!Previous Chapters
From
blondebitzFrom
angelstoyIn the midst of Willow’s heartfelt toast to Xander, Spike can’t help but notice the deadly, scornful glint in the Slayer’s eyes. It’s a bit of a surprise to see her seething about his relationship with Willow, considering the attitude she usually takes towards him. Nothing like a good dose of jealousy to convince a woman that she missed out on something worth her while…
He leans back in the hard folding chair, linking his fingers together, and resting his palms on top of his stomach. As the orchestrated sounds of clinking crystal fill his ears, he returns his focus to the grinning redhead sitting at the table and watches her bring the champagne flute to her lips. She’s far more distracting to look at then the Slayer, even though her beauty is far more subtle. Her eyelashes flutter in pleasure as the sweet, bubbly taste flows over her tongue and he imagines he could increase that sensation ten-fold just by strolling up there and capturing her lips in an erotic, uninhibited kiss.
It doesn’t take long for the fantasy to unfold in front of him. He can picture her sitting on top of the table, thighs spread over the lacy white table covering, with that green dress torn to tatters on the floor. His fingers would trace the delicate curve of her breasts, would tweak the cherry points of her nipples until her body lost its patience and her legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer to her.
But he wouldn’t give in to her demands just then. Instead, he would pick up a bottle of champagne and slowly, tortuously, pour the liquid into the valley between her breasts. He would tease her to the edge of excitement with his tongue, heighten the scent of her desire and arousal, make her body come alive with tingling electricity. And when he was satisfied that she’d had enough, that’s when he would unzip his pants and plunge inside her. Her body would writhe and thrash as he thrust away inside her. Her muscles would clench and milk him, draining him of the drug he so willingly gave her. She would scream his name as the waves of orgasm and bliss poured through her, and her gorgeous eyes would speak volumes of the love she had for him.
Love?
Is he really falling in love with the witch? The physical connection is there, the emotional connection is there, the swarm of feelings tightening around his heart is there, so it certainly couldn’t hurt to jump to that conclusion…
“You’re sick, Spike.”
Spike grimaces, the fantasy shattering like the pyramid of champagne flutes that had been knocked over earlier by one of the tentacle demons. He twists his head towards the accusing tone, and immediately locks eyes with Buffy, acutely aware of how much his feelings toward her have changed. There’s not an ounce of his being that’s addicted to her anymore.
He shrugs, a cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What of it, Slayer?”
“You’ve got no right placing those filthy, sick hands on Willow. God, Spike, I knew you had some fucked up fantasies, but what are you really accomplishing by trying to make the googly eyes with a lesbian?! Do you honestly think you have a chance with her? Is this your twisted way of replacing me?” Buffy sticks out her tongue in disgust. “And I thought your sex doll was the lowest you could go. Clearly, I was way wrong.”
Spike snorts, nostrils flaring in annoyance. She’s so blind to what’s going around her. So blind to the words Willow said downstairs, and the moment by the stairwell that happened right underneath her God. Damn. Nose. No wonder Buffy didn’t pick up on the struggles Willow was having with magic; the girl has never learned to open her eyes past boys, and clothes, and demons. “Clearly, you don’t know your friend.”
“Clearly,” Buffy punctuates the word, gritting her teeth to keep her volume low. “Willow’s been drugged or under some sort of spell, because no one in their right mind would ever fall in love with you.”
“Then I must be in my wrong mind because falling in love with Spike just happens to be what I did.”
Willow’s hand touches his shoulder; and Spike visibly relaxes against her as if she’s the shield he needs to protect him from Buffy’s verbal assault. Cinnamon and strawberries permeate his nostrils as her lovely hair brushes over his cheek. Part of him can’t believe that she’s choosing his corner over Buffy’s, but it’s really no different than her choosing to be with him despite Xander’s earlier protests.
“W-Willow,” Buffy stammers, obviously caught off guard by her friend’s presence, shoulder muscles bunching as a new found tension coils inside her gut. “I thought you were…”
“Why don’t you just tell me why falling in love with Spike is such a bad thing? You seemed to be on board before,” Willow replies softly. She didn't totally believe that Buffy had been on board downstairs either, but it seems like the right thing to say in this moment. The right words to get them over this particular hump.
“Because I…,” Buffy starts, glancing over at Spike. There are so many secrets between them that it’s hard to know where to start. He knows more than anyone how much it hurts her to be back among the living. He knows her shame, her guilt. He knows how her lips taste, knows how much she hates him for getting under her skin. And here’s Willow admitting her own secret about Spike, and it just seems so effortless. Buffy doesn’t understand that because she has never been able to tell anyone about the things she did to herself, the things she let Spike do.
“Because it’s not you?” Willow finishes quietly, feeling Spike flinch underneath her touch. “He gave up stalking you to be with me and now you’re jealous, aren’t you? If you can’t have him, no one can?”
It’s the look he can instantly see on Buffy’s face that triggers a victorious smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. With that insightful mind of hers, Willow just hit the nail on the head, breaking apart the knot tying Spike and Buffy together, and Spike can’t help but love her for it. It’s about time someone let that cat out of the bag.
“It’s not like that,” Buffy murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Spike’s just complicated and dark and you don’t need to be involved with that. I want you to be happy, Willow, but I know Spike isn’t the person who can give you that.”
Willow shakes her head in disagreement, a flicker of resolve crossing her face. “It shouldn’t matter if you think he’s the guy for me or not, Buffy. And I’ll have you know that I’m a pretty complicated and dark chick myself. Or at least I was. Spike helped me change that.”
Buffy’s face softens, and she reaches out to touch her friend’s arm. “Willow, we’re friends. If you needed my help, you could’ve said something.”
“I couldn’t say anything,” Willow replies, sadness tingeing her voice. “Couldn’t say anything because I knew that if you knew, you would leave me just like Tara did. I couldn’t go without using magic, couldn’t stop once I started. I finally had this shot at this secret dark thrill, the thrill of being something more than a Scooby sidekick. So I went for it as hard and fast as I could. I went so deep that I didn’t even notice I was drowning.”
She takes a deep breath, and tightens her grip on Spike’s shoulder. Her audience has grown a bit since she opened her mouth. She can see the compassion in Xander’s eyes, the annoyance in Anya’s, and the sweet giddiness in Dawn’s. Dawn is probably the least surprising of the three as Willow guesses she’s probably more excited about being a part of the grown-up conversation than anything else.
“Spike never made me explain why I fell into the water. He just pulled me out of it and did what he had to in order to make me better.”
“That’s all well and good, Willow, but can we please remember that this is my wedding day,” Anya retorts, arms akimbo. “I should be the center of attention here.”
Xander shakes his head, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her tight to him. “An, I think it will be okay if we just give her this one moment.”
It could either be the gentle squeezing from the hug, or the feel of Xander’s manhood pressing against her back through the folds of her gown, but the former vengeance demon drops the pout and lets someone else have their turn to respond.
“Awww,” Dawn coos excitedly. “That’s like the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. And since we’re at a wedding, that’s pretty hard to manage since the whole ‘I do’ thing is supposed to be all perfect and lovey-dovey and stuff.”
Anya narrows her eyes to slits, and if it weren’t for Xander’s tight grip on the woman, Willow’s positive that the next event they’d be going to would be Dawnie’s funeral.
“Dawn?” Buffy asks, jumping into the big sister role and further ensuring that Dawn stays out of trouble. “How ‘bout you go check on the punch bowl? I’m sure with the way Xander’s family drinks things with fruit in it, that it probably needs a refill.”
With an exaggerated sigh and a pouty lip, Dawn flounces off towards the buffet table and it doesn’t take long before she’s chatting up one of the younger, cuter-looking demons whose only flaw is having Spock ears.
After a few minutes of pregnant silence, interrupted only once by Xander’s cousin Carol come to snag Xander and Anya for a few post-wedding photo ops, Buffy finally speaks up. “Willow…I want you to know that you can come to me for anything, and if having feelings for Spike is what you need to come clean about…then fine. But if he hurts you in any way, shape, or form, he’s gonna know what it feels like to be gone with the wind.”
She pauses, shooting Spike a patented death glare and patting the inside sleeve of her dress where it becomes readily apparent that she’s packing a stake and is not afraid to use it. Feeling satisfied that her threat is firmly hanging in the air between them, she glances over at Dawn who has upgraded from talking to the Spock demon to wrapping her arms around his shoulders and dancing with him.
“But I think I need to go check on that punch bowl…” Six more stitches rip in Buffy’s dress as she pivots and heads off towards the buffet table, but it doesn’t even break her stride. Most likely because the wedding’s over and she officially gets to stop caring about the hideous green cylinder with sleeves that she’s been squeezed into.
They both watch her leave, and Willow turns back to Spike and leans down to press her lips against his. If change had a taste, she’s sure his tongue is coated in it, because she finally feels like she’s not only changed the addiction, she’s changed who she is just by learning how to incorporate the light with the darkness.
And she can tell by the way he pulls her down into his lap that he’s learned to do the same.