![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snoggedI'm very pleased to bring you Ch. 2 today!
Title: Change the Addiction (2/9)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 1934 Words
Rating/Warnings: will be FRAO/NC-17. This part FRT-13/PG-13.
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
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. I hope you like the journey!
Previous Chapters
Spike should have seen this coming. He should have understood that love doesn’t conquer all with one fantastic shag that mixed pain and pleasure in a way that nearly blew his mind. He should have guessed that at the end of it, the buxom blonde Slayer would end up skipping out the door without a care, leaving him to wallow in the rubble and sort out the ruckus in his head.
But are the solutions even there? Is there a way to stop her protests? A way to make her crawl to him? A way to make her love him?
Not bloody likely.
A growl escapes his lips, trying to silence the thought. He has never been one to listen to the voice of reason. He is far more likely to shove a dirty sock into the voice of reason’s mouth and lock it in the closet to rot with all of the other thoughts he doesn’t like.
No, what he needs to do is get up, brush himself off, and try again. He can track her down, corner her, and press her buttons until she gives in. In a few hours’ time, she’ll slide the needle back into her skin and feel ravaged by the same high that consumes him.
He knows that with a little pressure and a little more flesh-to-flesh contact, they can both share in the addiction.
*~*~*~*~*
The water is scalding, coming down hard and fast from the shower tap to burn her skin and mask her tears. No matter how hard she scrubs, how hard she cleanses, she can’t get rid of the conflict in her mind.
Loving the thrill of what Rack gave her? Feeling the raw and powerful magic course through her veins and consume her? It’s wrong. It’s wrong like drugs are wrong. And drugs are very wrong. Because somewhere in the corners of her closet, she’s got a t-shirt from elementary school that says so and a notebook detailing every meeting of the Sunnydale Elementary Drug Abstinence Club.
She grits her teeth, turning off the shower, and feeling the instant chill of the air against her skin. But magic doesn’t have to be like drugs. Magic is good for things. They help people. And she’s helped a ton of people with magic. Even her forgetting spell could have been construed as helpful…in some sort of fucked-up fantasy world where Tara didn’t hate her for it.
Tara.
Just tasting the name on her tongue is enough to make her heart sink down to the pits of her stomach and she realizes there’s another reason for her addiction…it’s an illusory solution to a problem she can’t really solve. Tara is never going to love her again and there’s no way she can forget that on her own. Her brain just doesn’t have the staying power or the strength to overcome that kind of heartbreak.
And for the first time, it feels like logic and reason have failed her.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The blanket offers sparse protection and rubs against his skin like sandpaper, but it’s the only thing he’s got to get him from the tunnels to the back door of Casa del Summers. It doesn’t take much to unlock the door, just a little jiggle here and a little wiggle there with one of the bobby pins Buffy had left behind.
At the very least, the small hair accessory gives him the semblance of an excuse in the event that he gets caught and needs a quick distraction.
As he crosses the threshold, the smell hits him; a powerful, toxic swirl of something supernatural, something that didn’t belong in this house. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had tasted something so rich and so wicked and he could already feel himself itching for a fight. And with the Slayer not around, who better to save the day?
Plus, Buffy will probably throw herself into his hero arms and thank him for all his hard work when she returns home from wherever she is.
Not bloody likely.
He grimaces, hating that vile phrase for continually popping into his head. His brain needs to get with the program already because his heart is in this to win it. His nostrils flare as he ascends the staircase, the scent he’d picked up a moment ago getting stronger as his boots pass silently over each step. He knows that even the tiniest creak could arouse whatever demon is lurking upstairs and he’s really counting on the surprise angle.
The trail finally comes to a stop outside Willow’s room and he freezes, almost afraid to open the door. Finding the Slayer’s best friend’s corpse would put an unpleasant kink in his plans. He’s pretty sure that would ruin any and all chances of obtaining Buffy’s submission to his feelings and her own.
But then, his ears prickle, picking up the sounds of a slow heartbeat and soft sobbing. His fingers close around the door handle and he pushes it open, hearing the soft snick of the lock giving way. He finds her on the bed, her body curled against moving scraps of fabric: a shirt and a skirt that look almost human as they comfort her. It’s actually a bit creepy. Even by his standards.
“Red?”
Her face turns away from the door, burying itself deeper into the lap of the soft, billowing skirt but he doesn’t turn away. Instead, Spike takes a few steps closer, noticing that the dark, intense smell is emanating from her skin. He can feel it heating up the room with its thick waves.
Whatever is sitting on the bed right now isn’t Willow. Or at least, it’s not the one he wishes it is. This is the Willow that seems content to go messing around with a world she doesn’t understand. The Willow who makes her friends forget who they are just because she thinks a spell will ease their pain. This is the Willow who shouldn’t have a dark or dangerous bone in her body but all he tastes is the black magic floating around her and it doesn’t taste like Willow.
“What did you do?”
Willow blinks, lifting her head from her fabric doll to meet Spike’s cool blue eyes. She wants to ask him who the hell he thinks he is for storming in here and accusing her of stuff but those aren’t the words that come out. “I…I didn’t do anything.”
“Bollocks. I could smell ya from a mile away,” Spike replied, narrowing his eyes. “Now, let me ask again, what did you do?”
She quickly looks away from his intense gaze, focusing instead on the floral print of her bedspread and picking at the tiny flowers, wishing they could come off so she could tear the petals to shreds.
“I went to a warlock, okay?” Willow says quietly, biting down her bottom lip, feeling the skin yield under the sharp edge of her teeth. “Amy took me there.”
His face softens and his feet move to the edge of the bed. He gingerly takes a seat beside her, giving her a wide berth in hopes that it will keep her anxiety down but also make her aware that he’s not going anywhere. “Warlocks are dangerous sorts, pet, and the people that go to them are trashy magic fiends who are just looking to get their rocks off.” He catches himself, seeing the flash of pain and anger in her eyes…even if she looks cute when she’s ticked. “Not that you’re trashy, of course. But I know there are better ways to get your rocks off that don’t involve spinning orbs and LSD-trance music.”
“You don’t know that,” Willow mutters. “You don’t know what it did for me.”
Spike shifts on the bed, letting her words sink in. He bets he knows exactly what it did for her. Probably gave her the same rush that he gets from the attention Buffy gives him. “Gave you something to crave? Gave you a mad thrill that you want to go rushing back to? Gave you something that seems too hard to give up because it makes you forget what a loser you are?” He pauses, catching that angry, cute look in her eyes again that says he’s put his foot in his mouth. “Again, not a loser, pet. But you need to stop this before you hurt someone…or worse, that you hurt yourself.”
Willow folds her arms in front of her chest and she glares at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”
He stifles a chuckle and scoots closer, hand shooting forward to grab her wrist. “May not be, but you sure look like you need someone to keep you from going down this road.”
He squeezes her wrist and it hurts a little, but it doesn’t trump her annoyance with him. He sounds too much like Giles. Too much like Tara. Too much like someone who’s trying to watch out for her and the rebel in her screams. “What are you gonna do, Spike? Put me on a leash?”
Spike’s eyes flash amber for one second and the demon scrambles to paint him a picture of Red on her knees in nothing but a black studded collar, looking up at him with sweet submission in her eyes, as he locks the chain in place. His breath hitches, and he tries to swallow down the image because it’s not Buffy. It goes against his current code and the cry of his nonexistent heart. And yet, his brain remains locked on Willow and seems determined to drag the rest of him into place so that they can find a cure for her problems and bring back the old Willow that makes everything seem easy as pie with just a snap of her fingers. The pursuit of the Slayer was just going to have to be put on hold for now.
“No. But I am going to get you through this. Even if it means finding you a safer addiction.”
Willow tilts her head, confusion dancing across her face. First of all, she’s never seen Spike determined to help anyone because he just doesn’t do that…ever. And second of all, it doesn’t make any sense to replace an addiction with another one. Her Drug Resistance education had taught her at least that much. “Erm…you don’t think we should give total abstinence a try, first?”
A smirk tugs at the corners of Spike’s lips as he realizes the possibilities for new addictions. He could turn her onto booze (Buffy would kill him), he could turn her onto cigarettes (Buffy would kill him…twice), or he could turn her onto sex. And if the darkness was what she was craving, there really was no better cure. As long as he could squelch her cries of ‘gay, now,’ and replace them with ‘gay, sometimes.’ Which he figures can be pulled off, if the right man came along to show her how the gate can swing both ways.
“Honestly, Red…the way I’ve learned it is that the best way to get over an addiction is to find a new one.”
Chapter 3
Title: Change the Addiction (2/9)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 1934 Words
Rating/Warnings: will be FRAO/NC-17. This part FRT-13/PG-13.
Setting: An alternate route from Season 6 - "Wrecked"
Summary: The best way to get over an addiction is to change it...
Beta:
spikesredqueen and velvetwhipA/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. I hope you like the journey!Previous Chapters
Spike should have seen this coming. He should have understood that love doesn’t conquer all with one fantastic shag that mixed pain and pleasure in a way that nearly blew his mind. He should have guessed that at the end of it, the buxom blonde Slayer would end up skipping out the door without a care, leaving him to wallow in the rubble and sort out the ruckus in his head.
But are the solutions even there? Is there a way to stop her protests? A way to make her crawl to him? A way to make her love him?
Not bloody likely.
A growl escapes his lips, trying to silence the thought. He has never been one to listen to the voice of reason. He is far more likely to shove a dirty sock into the voice of reason’s mouth and lock it in the closet to rot with all of the other thoughts he doesn’t like.
No, what he needs to do is get up, brush himself off, and try again. He can track her down, corner her, and press her buttons until she gives in. In a few hours’ time, she’ll slide the needle back into her skin and feel ravaged by the same high that consumes him.
He knows that with a little pressure and a little more flesh-to-flesh contact, they can both share in the addiction.
*~*~*~*~*
The water is scalding, coming down hard and fast from the shower tap to burn her skin and mask her tears. No matter how hard she scrubs, how hard she cleanses, she can’t get rid of the conflict in her mind.
Loving the thrill of what Rack gave her? Feeling the raw and powerful magic course through her veins and consume her? It’s wrong. It’s wrong like drugs are wrong. And drugs are very wrong. Because somewhere in the corners of her closet, she’s got a t-shirt from elementary school that says so and a notebook detailing every meeting of the Sunnydale Elementary Drug Abstinence Club.
She grits her teeth, turning off the shower, and feeling the instant chill of the air against her skin. But magic doesn’t have to be like drugs. Magic is good for things. They help people. And she’s helped a ton of people with magic. Even her forgetting spell could have been construed as helpful…in some sort of fucked-up fantasy world where Tara didn’t hate her for it.
Tara.
Just tasting the name on her tongue is enough to make her heart sink down to the pits of her stomach and she realizes there’s another reason for her addiction…it’s an illusory solution to a problem she can’t really solve. Tara is never going to love her again and there’s no way she can forget that on her own. Her brain just doesn’t have the staying power or the strength to overcome that kind of heartbreak.
And for the first time, it feels like logic and reason have failed her.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The blanket offers sparse protection and rubs against his skin like sandpaper, but it’s the only thing he’s got to get him from the tunnels to the back door of Casa del Summers. It doesn’t take much to unlock the door, just a little jiggle here and a little wiggle there with one of the bobby pins Buffy had left behind.
At the very least, the small hair accessory gives him the semblance of an excuse in the event that he gets caught and needs a quick distraction.
As he crosses the threshold, the smell hits him; a powerful, toxic swirl of something supernatural, something that didn’t belong in this house. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had tasted something so rich and so wicked and he could already feel himself itching for a fight. And with the Slayer not around, who better to save the day?
Plus, Buffy will probably throw herself into his hero arms and thank him for all his hard work when she returns home from wherever she is.
Not bloody likely.
He grimaces, hating that vile phrase for continually popping into his head. His brain needs to get with the program already because his heart is in this to win it. His nostrils flare as he ascends the staircase, the scent he’d picked up a moment ago getting stronger as his boots pass silently over each step. He knows that even the tiniest creak could arouse whatever demon is lurking upstairs and he’s really counting on the surprise angle.
The trail finally comes to a stop outside Willow’s room and he freezes, almost afraid to open the door. Finding the Slayer’s best friend’s corpse would put an unpleasant kink in his plans. He’s pretty sure that would ruin any and all chances of obtaining Buffy’s submission to his feelings and her own.
But then, his ears prickle, picking up the sounds of a slow heartbeat and soft sobbing. His fingers close around the door handle and he pushes it open, hearing the soft snick of the lock giving way. He finds her on the bed, her body curled against moving scraps of fabric: a shirt and a skirt that look almost human as they comfort her. It’s actually a bit creepy. Even by his standards.
“Red?”
Her face turns away from the door, burying itself deeper into the lap of the soft, billowing skirt but he doesn’t turn away. Instead, Spike takes a few steps closer, noticing that the dark, intense smell is emanating from her skin. He can feel it heating up the room with its thick waves.
Whatever is sitting on the bed right now isn’t Willow. Or at least, it’s not the one he wishes it is. This is the Willow that seems content to go messing around with a world she doesn’t understand. The Willow who makes her friends forget who they are just because she thinks a spell will ease their pain. This is the Willow who shouldn’t have a dark or dangerous bone in her body but all he tastes is the black magic floating around her and it doesn’t taste like Willow.
“What did you do?”
Willow blinks, lifting her head from her fabric doll to meet Spike’s cool blue eyes. She wants to ask him who the hell he thinks he is for storming in here and accusing her of stuff but those aren’t the words that come out. “I…I didn’t do anything.”
“Bollocks. I could smell ya from a mile away,” Spike replied, narrowing his eyes. “Now, let me ask again, what did you do?”
She quickly looks away from his intense gaze, focusing instead on the floral print of her bedspread and picking at the tiny flowers, wishing they could come off so she could tear the petals to shreds.
“I went to a warlock, okay?” Willow says quietly, biting down her bottom lip, feeling the skin yield under the sharp edge of her teeth. “Amy took me there.”
His face softens and his feet move to the edge of the bed. He gingerly takes a seat beside her, giving her a wide berth in hopes that it will keep her anxiety down but also make her aware that he’s not going anywhere. “Warlocks are dangerous sorts, pet, and the people that go to them are trashy magic fiends who are just looking to get their rocks off.” He catches himself, seeing the flash of pain and anger in her eyes…even if she looks cute when she’s ticked. “Not that you’re trashy, of course. But I know there are better ways to get your rocks off that don’t involve spinning orbs and LSD-trance music.”
“You don’t know that,” Willow mutters. “You don’t know what it did for me.”
Spike shifts on the bed, letting her words sink in. He bets he knows exactly what it did for her. Probably gave her the same rush that he gets from the attention Buffy gives him. “Gave you something to crave? Gave you a mad thrill that you want to go rushing back to? Gave you something that seems too hard to give up because it makes you forget what a loser you are?” He pauses, catching that angry, cute look in her eyes again that says he’s put his foot in his mouth. “Again, not a loser, pet. But you need to stop this before you hurt someone…or worse, that you hurt yourself.”
Willow folds her arms in front of her chest and she glares at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”
He stifles a chuckle and scoots closer, hand shooting forward to grab her wrist. “May not be, but you sure look like you need someone to keep you from going down this road.”
He squeezes her wrist and it hurts a little, but it doesn’t trump her annoyance with him. He sounds too much like Giles. Too much like Tara. Too much like someone who’s trying to watch out for her and the rebel in her screams. “What are you gonna do, Spike? Put me on a leash?”
Spike’s eyes flash amber for one second and the demon scrambles to paint him a picture of Red on her knees in nothing but a black studded collar, looking up at him with sweet submission in her eyes, as he locks the chain in place. His breath hitches, and he tries to swallow down the image because it’s not Buffy. It goes against his current code and the cry of his nonexistent heart. And yet, his brain remains locked on Willow and seems determined to drag the rest of him into place so that they can find a cure for her problems and bring back the old Willow that makes everything seem easy as pie with just a snap of her fingers. The pursuit of the Slayer was just going to have to be put on hold for now.
“No. But I am going to get you through this. Even if it means finding you a safer addiction.”
Willow tilts her head, confusion dancing across her face. First of all, she’s never seen Spike determined to help anyone because he just doesn’t do that…ever. And second of all, it doesn’t make any sense to replace an addiction with another one. Her Drug Resistance education had taught her at least that much. “Erm…you don’t think we should give total abstinence a try, first?”
A smirk tugs at the corners of Spike’s lips as he realizes the possibilities for new addictions. He could turn her onto booze (Buffy would kill him), he could turn her onto cigarettes (Buffy would kill him…twice), or he could turn her onto sex. And if the darkness was what she was craving, there really was no better cure. As long as he could squelch her cries of ‘gay, now,’ and replace them with ‘gay, sometimes.’ Which he figures can be pulled off, if the right man came along to show her how the gate can swing both ways.
“Honestly, Red…the way I’ve learned it is that the best way to get over an addiction is to find a new one.”
Chapter 3
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-10-12 06:17 pm (UTC)And isn't Willow gonna be so happy you veer?
no subject
on 2009-10-12 11:38 pm (UTC)I'm so glad to have you on board, hunny!
no subject
on 2009-10-12 06:52 pm (UTC)Great portrayal of both Spike and Willow my darling. Swapping one addiction for another. One that's Spike flavoured... Lucky Willow!
*kisses* xxx
no subject
on 2009-10-12 11:38 pm (UTC)And I'm glad you like the direction I plan to take this
no subject
on 2009-10-12 10:01 pm (UTC)This chapter was great and I'm looking forward to read the next one!
no subject
on 2009-10-12 11:37 pm (UTC)I'm glad you're enjoying the ride!
no subject
on 2009-10-13 10:05 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-10-13 02:37 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-10-13 05:07 am (UTC)That would certainly make things interesting
no subject
on 2009-10-13 05:06 am (UTC)Love the interaction between Spike and Willow and how he puts his foot in his mouth only to snatch it out just in time.
More please...soon??
no subject
on 2009-10-13 05:07 am (UTC)I'm glad you like how this going
And I'm working on it, I promise!
no subject
on 2009-11-30 03:01 am (UTC)I don't know how I've missed this before...although this chapter seems familiar (like I have read it before...I might have and not had time to comment. Silly me).
I love how you have taken a well loved scene of Season 6 and fleshed it out into your own. The Elementary Drug Abstinence thing...so Willow.
Great job! *rushes to part three*
no subject
on 2009-11-30 03:03 am (UTC)*hugs*
Hope you enjoy part 3!
no subject
on 2010-02-22 02:09 pm (UTC)Very Willow.
Tara is never going to love her again and there’s no way she can forget that on her own. Her brain just doesn’t have the staying power or the strength to overcome that kind of heartbreak.
And for the first time, it feels like logic and reason have failed her.
Her hopelessness just breaks my heart. She's so far gone...
no subject
on 2010-02-22 02:14 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-09-26 07:07 pm (UTC)But I want to read it again so I'm going to.
Lovely interaction.
no subject
on 2010-09-26 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-09-26 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-09-26 10:00 pm (UTC)As far as I know...everywhere I've posted this would lead you back to this journal.
BTW...I finished posting Mission X there just now. I noticed you commented on CH. 5 back in August...
no subject
on 2010-09-26 10:06 pm (UTC)I'm glad you finished posting Mission X on NHA... I finished reading it in your journal when I found out that you had already finished it. Excellent story.
no subject
on 2013-05-28 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-05-28 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2016-07-10 01:09 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2016-07-11 01:33 am (UTC)