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snoggedIt's the start of a new week and that means I've got a new chapter for ya!
Title: Change the Addiction (7/?)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 1866
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. Thank you both so much for putting up with me!
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
Fromblondebitz
Fromangelstoy
Spike chuckles, turning away from Willow to face their intruder without even bothering to zip his pants back up, arching the eyebrow with the scar he got from the Chinese Slayer. “Don’t remember sending you an e-vite to this party, Harris.”
Xander’s breath hitches, trying to keep his eyes on their eyes, instead of focusing on their post-sex body parts. “Willow?” He nearly chokes on his best friend’s name, gagging on the idea that his formerly very gay friend would be getting it on with a vampire during the Slayer’s birthday party. “Can you please explain the physical universe in which this is supposed to make sense? I mean, did you go wacky with the magic again and open up some crazy portal that we need to close up before everyone goes freaking nuts?”
Willow sighs deeply, detaching herself from Spike’s embrace, and adjusting her blouse and skirt to make herself look more presentable. She’s not even sure how to start explaining herself, or even if there’s an explanation that would make Xander understand why she’s doing what she’s doing at all. It’s not like Xander ever really got to know the Willow she sees in the mirror nowadays. She’s pretty sure that he will always see her as yellow-crayon-breaking, old reliable, shy sidekick Willow; instead of the Willow who spends her time in magic crack houses, or the Willow who finds her own personal savior in a vampire who’s got a chip in his head.
“Xander…”
“Don’t you dare tell me that this isn’t what it looks like, because I know damn well it is what it looks like, missy. And I’m not liking what I’m looking at.”
Spike snorts derisively, rolling his eyes as he zips his pants back up. It rubs him bloody wrong that this wanker is still standing there with that look of contempt on his face. It’s not enough that Xander had to catch them in the act, but rubbing Willow’s face in it? That’s completely inappropriate, especially after all the work he’s done to get her where she was now. “If you don’t like what it looks like, then stop looking at it.”
A shiver goes through Willow as Xander’s lips twist into a sneer, as his hands curl into fists at his sides. It reminds of her their childhood talks, of his dreams of being just like the Incredible Hulk. Only there’s no innocence in this state of fury, there’s no sound of shirts being torn, no sign of skin turning green. She’s afraid that he’s stupid enough to attack without a weapon, but slightly relaxes when he doesn’t make a move to punch Spike’s lights out.
“Do other people know about this, Will?” Xander hisses, clenching his teeth. “Does Buffy know your screwing the pathetic puppy dog that can’t take a hint? Does Dawnie know?”
Willow averts her eyes, slowly counting the small flecks of lint on the carpet as she finds her words. In the kitchen, she can hear Anya’s “Yahtzee” victory cry, and a wash of thankfulness courses through her. At least the rest of their friend circle is distracted. As horrible as it is to handle this confrontation, a group intervention would be far worse. “No.”
“Addicts keep secrets, Willow. Addicts tell lies and make excuses and they think all that will save them from hurting the people they love, but it doesn’t work like that. Sooner or later, those things hurt. I’ve been through that shit with my dad and I’m starting to bet that’s why Tara walked out on you.”
Xander’s words cut straight through Willow’s heart, slicing and dicing the fragile organ into tiny pieces. He may not be wrong about her keeping secrets, but he has no right…no right…to judge her like this.
“You shut your bloody hole,” Spike growls, swallowing down the urge to lunge at Xander and rip his throat out. But he knows if he does, the screaming yelp from the chip firing in his head would alert the rest of the gang, and it would cause more problems than they really need right now. Instead, he brushes his fingers over Willow’s wrist, and slides his hand on top of hers. “Let’s get out of here, Red.”
The feel of his hand on hers makes her straighten, almost like he’s pressed some sort of restart button, and given her some of her strength back. It’s not quite on par with her resolve face, but it’ll do. “Xander, my business is absolutely none of yours. How I decide to deal with my life shouldn’t affect you. And if you were really my friend, you wouldn’t be giving me the judge-y eyes right now.”
With a flourish, she storms past him, dragging Spike with her as she heads towards the front door. But when she grabs the handle, the door doesn’t budge. She can’t even get it to wiggle a little.
“Crap,” Willow murmurs, stepping aside to let Spike have a try. But even super strength doesn’t seem to be a match for whatever force-field is working its mojo on the Summers’ house. It’s just like the demons of Sunnydale to ruin all her plans, to ruin her big dramatic exit.
A hand lands on her shoulder, and she closes her eyes, waiting for Spike to offer some sort of snarky remark about their predicament. But it’s not Spike, and the snark doesn’t come.
“Willow…I don’t think I’m ever going to get why you’re doing this, but I’m…I’m your best friend, I want to stay your best friend, so I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
His apology comes as a surprise, considering how ticked he was a second ago, but she’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth so she turns around and hugs him. After holding onto him for a few seconds, she laughs softly and pulls away. “You know, you change your mind like a girl, right?”
For a split-second, Xander looks offended, but then he lets it go and starts laughing right along with her.
****
It takes one big demon/Slayer fight, a few epically dramatic Dawn pouts, and a vengeance demon altercation to release them from the house.
And when they finally get outside, Willow inhales sharply, drawing the cool air into her lungs. It feels good knowing they all got out of there alive, feels good knowing that Xander is supporting her in the way that friends should, and it especially feels good knowing that Spike wasn’t kidding about the thrill. He also hadn’t been kidding about being really amazing at the sex stuff.
Only the next time, they’re gonna do it in a bed. With curtains on the windows. And deadbolt locks on all the doors.
Spike doesn’t look behind him as he walks away from the party, even if he’s dying to go back and drag Willow back to his crypt, cave-man style. He figures the girl’s had enough grief with one friend catching them in the act, and he’s not even sure that she’s going to keep up with her recovery plan now that the cat’s out of the bag.
Wouldn’t be the first time that someone has given up on him. Won’t be the last time either.
It doesn’t take him long to get back to his crypt, nor does it take him long to find the bottle of Jack Daniel’s that he keeps hidden in the back of his refrigerator. He screws off the top and pours the whiskey down his throat, savoring the harsh sting it leaves on his tongue.
This is how he forgets, how he numbs himself, how he drowns out the nagging voice in his head that says he’s not worthy of love. Humans do this all the time and it seems to work for them, so why not him?
The soft knock that comes later pulls him out of his lonely reverie and he watches as the door pushes open; Willow steps inside, closing the heavy door behind her. It’s just one more difference he can add to the list of ways she’s better for him than Buffy.
“Spike?” Willow asks, taking slow steps as she nears the fading, floral print chair that he’s sprawled across.
“Thought you wouldn’t come back. Figured the deal was done now that someone knew,” Spike replies, forcing nonchalance into his tone and shrugging his shoulders.
Willow smiles, fingers picking at the hem of her shirt. “It’s okay that he knows. Just as long as the next times we do it, we pick a more…private…location.” Her eyes do a quick scan of the crypt on the off chance that Spike brought Clem home with him. When she’s satisfied that no one else is watching her, she pulls the shirt off and tosses it to the floor.
Spike’s eyes widen with interest, but he doesn’t move from the chair. Willow’s got a look that says she wants to call the shots tonight and he’s not gonna challenge that. He’s never had issues with women taking control and any Nancy boy that does really ought to get his head examined.
“I figured you didn’t get to see enough last time,” Willow says, brushing her fingers across the curve of her breast, amusing herself with the blissful expression on his face. She can’t remember feeling this much power in a sexual encounter before. She’s never really had the chance to unleash herself as a wanton sex goddess, and she knows there has to be a little bit of her smutty doppelganger inside her since she is, after all, kinda gay…
Her hand skates down her stomach, hooks into the elastic band of her skirt, and pushes it down to the ground. Spike blinks, trying to remember if the panties he’d pushed aside before had been so diaphanous. He could have sworn they were cotton… “Beautiful.”
Willow grins, her confidence skyrocketing as she saunters towards him, wiggling out of her sheer red panties in the process. Spike can see the carnal gleam in her stunning eyes, and he knows just what she wants. To help her out, he resituates himself in the chair, unzips his pants, and scoots them off his hips to give her access.
Inhaling deeply, Willow straddles him, lightly touching the head of his erect cock against her clit. The gentle pressure lights a fire inside her core, makes her feel heady with lust and magic, and she sinks down on top of him, bracing her legs against the arms of the chair.
Spike rocks his hips to meet her, greeting her need with enthusiasm and wonderment. This needs to be good for her, needs to enflame her, needs to overpower all other senses. He leans up to capture her lips in a deep, sensual kiss, and it spurs her on.
When she finally crests the edge of her climax, Willow folds into Spike’s body, taking pleasure in the way his arms wrap around her. The feelings she has for Spike, this desire she has for him…it’s not a lie, not an excuse, not a secret.
Yes, it’s something that she wants to have again and again, but it doesn’t feel like an addiction anymore.
It feels stronger than that.
Chapter 8
Title: Change the Addiction (7/?)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 1866
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. Thank you both so much for putting up with me! 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. I hope you like the journey!Previous Chapters
From
blondebitzFrom
angelstoySpike chuckles, turning away from Willow to face their intruder without even bothering to zip his pants back up, arching the eyebrow with the scar he got from the Chinese Slayer. “Don’t remember sending you an e-vite to this party, Harris.”
Xander’s breath hitches, trying to keep his eyes on their eyes, instead of focusing on their post-sex body parts. “Willow?” He nearly chokes on his best friend’s name, gagging on the idea that his formerly very gay friend would be getting it on with a vampire during the Slayer’s birthday party. “Can you please explain the physical universe in which this is supposed to make sense? I mean, did you go wacky with the magic again and open up some crazy portal that we need to close up before everyone goes freaking nuts?”
Willow sighs deeply, detaching herself from Spike’s embrace, and adjusting her blouse and skirt to make herself look more presentable. She’s not even sure how to start explaining herself, or even if there’s an explanation that would make Xander understand why she’s doing what she’s doing at all. It’s not like Xander ever really got to know the Willow she sees in the mirror nowadays. She’s pretty sure that he will always see her as yellow-crayon-breaking, old reliable, shy sidekick Willow; instead of the Willow who spends her time in magic crack houses, or the Willow who finds her own personal savior in a vampire who’s got a chip in his head.
“Xander…”
“Don’t you dare tell me that this isn’t what it looks like, because I know damn well it is what it looks like, missy. And I’m not liking what I’m looking at.”
Spike snorts derisively, rolling his eyes as he zips his pants back up. It rubs him bloody wrong that this wanker is still standing there with that look of contempt on his face. It’s not enough that Xander had to catch them in the act, but rubbing Willow’s face in it? That’s completely inappropriate, especially after all the work he’s done to get her where she was now. “If you don’t like what it looks like, then stop looking at it.”
A shiver goes through Willow as Xander’s lips twist into a sneer, as his hands curl into fists at his sides. It reminds of her their childhood talks, of his dreams of being just like the Incredible Hulk. Only there’s no innocence in this state of fury, there’s no sound of shirts being torn, no sign of skin turning green. She’s afraid that he’s stupid enough to attack without a weapon, but slightly relaxes when he doesn’t make a move to punch Spike’s lights out.
“Do other people know about this, Will?” Xander hisses, clenching his teeth. “Does Buffy know your screwing the pathetic puppy dog that can’t take a hint? Does Dawnie know?”
Willow averts her eyes, slowly counting the small flecks of lint on the carpet as she finds her words. In the kitchen, she can hear Anya’s “Yahtzee” victory cry, and a wash of thankfulness courses through her. At least the rest of their friend circle is distracted. As horrible as it is to handle this confrontation, a group intervention would be far worse. “No.”
“Addicts keep secrets, Willow. Addicts tell lies and make excuses and they think all that will save them from hurting the people they love, but it doesn’t work like that. Sooner or later, those things hurt. I’ve been through that shit with my dad and I’m starting to bet that’s why Tara walked out on you.”
Xander’s words cut straight through Willow’s heart, slicing and dicing the fragile organ into tiny pieces. He may not be wrong about her keeping secrets, but he has no right…no right…to judge her like this.
“You shut your bloody hole,” Spike growls, swallowing down the urge to lunge at Xander and rip his throat out. But he knows if he does, the screaming yelp from the chip firing in his head would alert the rest of the gang, and it would cause more problems than they really need right now. Instead, he brushes his fingers over Willow’s wrist, and slides his hand on top of hers. “Let’s get out of here, Red.”
The feel of his hand on hers makes her straighten, almost like he’s pressed some sort of restart button, and given her some of her strength back. It’s not quite on par with her resolve face, but it’ll do. “Xander, my business is absolutely none of yours. How I decide to deal with my life shouldn’t affect you. And if you were really my friend, you wouldn’t be giving me the judge-y eyes right now.”
With a flourish, she storms past him, dragging Spike with her as she heads towards the front door. But when she grabs the handle, the door doesn’t budge. She can’t even get it to wiggle a little.
“Crap,” Willow murmurs, stepping aside to let Spike have a try. But even super strength doesn’t seem to be a match for whatever force-field is working its mojo on the Summers’ house. It’s just like the demons of Sunnydale to ruin all her plans, to ruin her big dramatic exit.
A hand lands on her shoulder, and she closes her eyes, waiting for Spike to offer some sort of snarky remark about their predicament. But it’s not Spike, and the snark doesn’t come.
“Willow…I don’t think I’m ever going to get why you’re doing this, but I’m…I’m your best friend, I want to stay your best friend, so I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
His apology comes as a surprise, considering how ticked he was a second ago, but she’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth so she turns around and hugs him. After holding onto him for a few seconds, she laughs softly and pulls away. “You know, you change your mind like a girl, right?”
For a split-second, Xander looks offended, but then he lets it go and starts laughing right along with her.
****
It takes one big demon/Slayer fight, a few epically dramatic Dawn pouts, and a vengeance demon altercation to release them from the house.
And when they finally get outside, Willow inhales sharply, drawing the cool air into her lungs. It feels good knowing they all got out of there alive, feels good knowing that Xander is supporting her in the way that friends should, and it especially feels good knowing that Spike wasn’t kidding about the thrill. He also hadn’t been kidding about being really amazing at the sex stuff.
Only the next time, they’re gonna do it in a bed. With curtains on the windows. And deadbolt locks on all the doors.
Spike doesn’t look behind him as he walks away from the party, even if he’s dying to go back and drag Willow back to his crypt, cave-man style. He figures the girl’s had enough grief with one friend catching them in the act, and he’s not even sure that she’s going to keep up with her recovery plan now that the cat’s out of the bag.
Wouldn’t be the first time that someone has given up on him. Won’t be the last time either.
It doesn’t take him long to get back to his crypt, nor does it take him long to find the bottle of Jack Daniel’s that he keeps hidden in the back of his refrigerator. He screws off the top and pours the whiskey down his throat, savoring the harsh sting it leaves on his tongue.
This is how he forgets, how he numbs himself, how he drowns out the nagging voice in his head that says he’s not worthy of love. Humans do this all the time and it seems to work for them, so why not him?
The soft knock that comes later pulls him out of his lonely reverie and he watches as the door pushes open; Willow steps inside, closing the heavy door behind her. It’s just one more difference he can add to the list of ways she’s better for him than Buffy.
“Spike?” Willow asks, taking slow steps as she nears the fading, floral print chair that he’s sprawled across.
“Thought you wouldn’t come back. Figured the deal was done now that someone knew,” Spike replies, forcing nonchalance into his tone and shrugging his shoulders.
Willow smiles, fingers picking at the hem of her shirt. “It’s okay that he knows. Just as long as the next times we do it, we pick a more…private…location.” Her eyes do a quick scan of the crypt on the off chance that Spike brought Clem home with him. When she’s satisfied that no one else is watching her, she pulls the shirt off and tosses it to the floor.
Spike’s eyes widen with interest, but he doesn’t move from the chair. Willow’s got a look that says she wants to call the shots tonight and he’s not gonna challenge that. He’s never had issues with women taking control and any Nancy boy that does really ought to get his head examined.
“I figured you didn’t get to see enough last time,” Willow says, brushing her fingers across the curve of her breast, amusing herself with the blissful expression on his face. She can’t remember feeling this much power in a sexual encounter before. She’s never really had the chance to unleash herself as a wanton sex goddess, and she knows there has to be a little bit of her smutty doppelganger inside her since she is, after all, kinda gay…
Her hand skates down her stomach, hooks into the elastic band of her skirt, and pushes it down to the ground. Spike blinks, trying to remember if the panties he’d pushed aside before had been so diaphanous. He could have sworn they were cotton… “Beautiful.”
Willow grins, her confidence skyrocketing as she saunters towards him, wiggling out of her sheer red panties in the process. Spike can see the carnal gleam in her stunning eyes, and he knows just what she wants. To help her out, he resituates himself in the chair, unzips his pants, and scoots them off his hips to give her access.
Inhaling deeply, Willow straddles him, lightly touching the head of his erect cock against her clit. The gentle pressure lights a fire inside her core, makes her feel heady with lust and magic, and she sinks down on top of him, bracing her legs against the arms of the chair.
Spike rocks his hips to meet her, greeting her need with enthusiasm and wonderment. This needs to be good for her, needs to enflame her, needs to overpower all other senses. He leans up to capture her lips in a deep, sensual kiss, and it spurs her on.
When she finally crests the edge of her climax, Willow folds into Spike’s body, taking pleasure in the way his arms wrap around her. The feelings she has for Spike, this desire she has for him…it’s not a lie, not an excuse, not a secret.
Yes, it’s something that she wants to have again and again, but it doesn’t feel like an addiction anymore.
It feels stronger than that.
Chapter 8