How My Love's Song Gently Cries, Part 4/6
Author: LAsh
Title: How My Love's Song Gently Cries
Series Index: Leaping In The Dark
Pairing: Spike/Willow
Rating: NC-17 / Adult concepts.
Concrit: Please, In Comments
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings/Squicks: None
Summary: “Between soldier boys and the Slayer, getting a mite uncomfortable around here. What do you say to a road trip?” he smiled at Willow. She returned his smile with a look of horror, which only made his smile wider. “Don't worry pet. I'm not going to kill you, not yet anyway. Just ate. Saving you for a snack."
Trying to regain the closeness he didn't yet realize he'd lost, Spike tried to please Willow with gifts, things he thought she might like: he picked out movies for her; brought her new clothes; he read to her and had her read to him; he made love to her with a renewed fervor but none of it worked. He started letting himself notice that they were slipping apart.
What did the damned bloody prince do to appease his princess after he'd rescued her? It was supposed to be happily ever after.
---
Knowing that Willow knew he wanted her to keep their home clean, he left his clothes on the floor and then irritatedly told her to leave them when she tried to pick them up. As he continued to give her commands that contradicted what he wanted her to do, Willow became more and more uncertain around him and Spike became angrier with her. Willow was as attentive as she'd always been but, now, he felt the distance between them.
He didn't know what to do. He could beat her, remind her who was in charge. Hadn't worked with Dru though, had it? Damn. Why the hell did he have to think of her? She'd never loved him, not the way Willow loved him. She'd left him. Willow would never leave him. She'd told him so. Willow couldn't leave, a voice whispered in the back of his brain. Blue eyes widened as he became very still.
It wasn't true. It couldn't be true.
---
That evening he took her to bed early, a part of him watching from the side, paying attention to what was said and what was unsaid. “Dearest” and “darling” she cried as fingers, lips, and tongues touched, kissed, and caressed. His name, “Spike. Oh Spike. My Spike,” slid off her tongue a dozen times in a mere minute but she didn't say “I love you.” She had never said “I love you.”
---
While they were curled up together, Willow in Spike's arms, he surreptitiously watched her watching a movie, The Fisher King, one of the ones he'd thought she might like. “Forgive me,” a character, Spike didn't know who he was, on the screen cried, said, and sang out again and again, momentarily drawing Spike's attention away from Willow. He hadn't been paying attention to the movie - they were barely into it and he was already lost - but Willow seemed absorbed by it. Greatly daring and feeling like he was about to step off a cliff, Spike whispered, “I love you,” across the great divide. Wilow immediately turned away from the movie and began kissing him.
He shoved her away and leapt across the room. From behind and below him, Spike could smell fear radiating off of her. After a moment, he wiped the tears from his eyes before turning back. “You're supposed to say it back. If you loved me, you'd say it back.”
Her eyes wide and dark against her pale skin, Willow answered. “I thought you knew. I never told you because you knew. Of course I love you.”
“Don't lie to me,” he shouted, shattering his beer bottle against the wall. Willow's face was calm but her fear filled the room. He thought about slashing her, uncovering what she really was but then the thought came to him - not what she really was but what he'd made her into - so he fled, afraid he'd hurt her beyond repair if he stayed, but still careful, even in his rage, to lock her in.
There's truth in wine but liquor is quicker, Spike thought, picking up a few bottles of whiskey. “Here's to Irish bastards everywhere,” he said, chugging down the first bottle. He didn't wonder what had put Angel into his thoughts but instead kept drinking until he was ready for more truth.
He went back to the hotel, down to the basement where he'd hidden the far-viewer. Curled up in the dark, he watched Willow. Not needing to see what she was doing that evening, he scanned back in time. Watched her try to escape the first time he'd left her alone. Paused the viewer, and ran in slow motion, hundreds of times, over her realization that there was no escape. Time was when he'd have thrilled to see that look on a human face. Watched how she became attentive after that, always noticing his needs, not because she loved him, as he'd thought, but because... why?
He stormed back out into the night, picking fights in a half dozen bars, with that question always at the back of his mind. She was willing and he always saw to it that he hurt her enough so she'd come. He stopped. Hurt her. But that wasn't how humans made love, now was it? He'd had to train her to enjoy the pain but she enjoyed herself now. Not like she had any choice in the matter, the voice at the back of his brain reminded him. No, it's not like that, he thought as he punched a Fyarl demon hard enough to send it flying across the room.
She said she'd never leave me, Spike thought. Like Angel? Like Dru? Angel had never said that; he'd said I was his, forever his, but then he got his soul back. And he left. And Dru, Dru had never said anything of the sort. I was always the one going on about our eternal love and I was the one who assumed that Dru and I would be together forever. I assumed she loved me. Just like I did with Willow. Spike staggered back towards the hotel, more beaten down by his thoughts than he'd been by the fights.
Willow never loved me. Dru never loved me. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted but he did know there was only one person who could set things right. Spike called Angel. Of course it wasn't Angel who picked up.
“I need to talk to Angel,” he said.
“Yeah, get in line mister,” said the voice on the other end. Female. Pissed off. Just what he needed.
“Just tell him Spike's on the line.”
“Spike?” He heard voices over the phone, obviously not taking vampire hearing into account. When he heard Willow's name, he winced. So, they'd figured out he'd taken her, had they? Clever of them really.
“Spike.” Angel, at last.
“Angel.” Disappointment bloomed in Spike's heart as he heard, in the silence, what Angel was afraid to ask. “What, no hearty welcome for the return of the prodigal son?”
“Don't go there, Childe,” Angel growled.
“Ah, ah. You need to be nice to me. Got something you want,” Spike replied before raising the whiskey to his lips.
“Willow,” Angel whispered.
“Got it in one. And they always said I was the smart one. Well, they were right but still, you do have your moments.”
“What do you want for her?” Angel asked.
“Want?” Spike looked around at what his world had become: a dark, dank room as cold and as impersonal as a grave; a tic toc thingamajig that provided glimpses of the past, of the distant, but didn't let you touch, never let you touch. What I've always wanted. I want you to love me, he thought. He threw the bottle against the wall and could tell, by the hiss on the other end of the phone, that Angel had heard it shatter. “Don't want anything. Take her back. I'm done with her.”
“Spike,” Angel asked tentatively.
“Yeah,” Spike replied cautiously.
“How is Willow?” Spike started laughing. Of course Angel wasn't asking about him. It was never about him.
“I broke her. All I wanted was for someone to love me and I broke her and I can't fix her.” Then Spike's rage took over again. “Are you glad now that I'm second best again?”
Angel was silent for a moment before answering. “I just want what's best for Willow. If she's hurt, if you can't help her...” Angel continued when Spike didn't answer, “Please Spike. Just tell me where she is.”
“Maybe I won't,” Spike slurred into the phone. “Maybe I'll keep her anyway. Even if she doesn't love me, she's good at pretending she does.” A wave of sadness hit Spike. “She doesn't love me. Nobody does. Not Dru. Not you.”
“Spike, I...”
“Don't say it,” Spike interrupted. “Don't tell me your souled self loves me. Had enough lies.”
“I do love you,” came the inevitable response. “Just not the way you want.” Spike didn't bother to respond. “Please Spike. Please don't hold Willow...”
“Against her will?” Spike finished. “Said I'd had enough of lies. Hyperion Hotel. You've heard of it, yeah? You know the room. I'll leave the key out on the front desk.”
“Spike.” Something in Angel's voice gave Spike hope, made him think he was wanted after all, until Angel shattered that hope by asking, “Willow is OK, isn't she?”
“Yeah, she'll still be alive when you get here.” Responding to the silence on the other end of the line, he added, “I'm not going to hurt her Angel.” Spike decided to twist the knife in. “I'm not you. I don't hurt those I love. They just hurt me.”
“Thank you,” Angel whispered before hanging up.
---.
Title: How My Love's Song Gently Cries
Series Index: Leaping In The Dark
Pairing: Spike/Willow
Rating: NC-17 / Adult concepts.
Concrit: Please, In Comments
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warnings/Squicks: None
Summary: “Between soldier boys and the Slayer, getting a mite uncomfortable around here. What do you say to a road trip?” he smiled at Willow. She returned his smile with a look of horror, which only made his smile wider. “Don't worry pet. I'm not going to kill you, not yet anyway. Just ate. Saving you for a snack."
Trying to regain the closeness he didn't yet realize he'd lost, Spike tried to please Willow with gifts, things he thought she might like: he picked out movies for her; brought her new clothes; he read to her and had her read to him; he made love to her with a renewed fervor but none of it worked. He started letting himself notice that they were slipping apart.
What did the damned bloody prince do to appease his princess after he'd rescued her? It was supposed to be happily ever after.
---
Knowing that Willow knew he wanted her to keep their home clean, he left his clothes on the floor and then irritatedly told her to leave them when she tried to pick them up. As he continued to give her commands that contradicted what he wanted her to do, Willow became more and more uncertain around him and Spike became angrier with her. Willow was as attentive as she'd always been but, now, he felt the distance between them.
He didn't know what to do. He could beat her, remind her who was in charge. Hadn't worked with Dru though, had it? Damn. Why the hell did he have to think of her? She'd never loved him, not the way Willow loved him. She'd left him. Willow would never leave him. She'd told him so. Willow couldn't leave, a voice whispered in the back of his brain. Blue eyes widened as he became very still.
It wasn't true. It couldn't be true.
---
That evening he took her to bed early, a part of him watching from the side, paying attention to what was said and what was unsaid. “Dearest” and “darling” she cried as fingers, lips, and tongues touched, kissed, and caressed. His name, “Spike. Oh Spike. My Spike,” slid off her tongue a dozen times in a mere minute but she didn't say “I love you.” She had never said “I love you.”
---
While they were curled up together, Willow in Spike's arms, he surreptitiously watched her watching a movie, The Fisher King, one of the ones he'd thought she might like. “Forgive me,” a character, Spike didn't know who he was, on the screen cried, said, and sang out again and again, momentarily drawing Spike's attention away from Willow. He hadn't been paying attention to the movie - they were barely into it and he was already lost - but Willow seemed absorbed by it. Greatly daring and feeling like he was about to step off a cliff, Spike whispered, “I love you,” across the great divide. Wilow immediately turned away from the movie and began kissing him.
He shoved her away and leapt across the room. From behind and below him, Spike could smell fear radiating off of her. After a moment, he wiped the tears from his eyes before turning back. “You're supposed to say it back. If you loved me, you'd say it back.”
Her eyes wide and dark against her pale skin, Willow answered. “I thought you knew. I never told you because you knew. Of course I love you.”
“Don't lie to me,” he shouted, shattering his beer bottle against the wall. Willow's face was calm but her fear filled the room. He thought about slashing her, uncovering what she really was but then the thought came to him - not what she really was but what he'd made her into - so he fled, afraid he'd hurt her beyond repair if he stayed, but still careful, even in his rage, to lock her in.
There's truth in wine but liquor is quicker, Spike thought, picking up a few bottles of whiskey. “Here's to Irish bastards everywhere,” he said, chugging down the first bottle. He didn't wonder what had put Angel into his thoughts but instead kept drinking until he was ready for more truth.
He went back to the hotel, down to the basement where he'd hidden the far-viewer. Curled up in the dark, he watched Willow. Not needing to see what she was doing that evening, he scanned back in time. Watched her try to escape the first time he'd left her alone. Paused the viewer, and ran in slow motion, hundreds of times, over her realization that there was no escape. Time was when he'd have thrilled to see that look on a human face. Watched how she became attentive after that, always noticing his needs, not because she loved him, as he'd thought, but because... why?
He stormed back out into the night, picking fights in a half dozen bars, with that question always at the back of his mind. She was willing and he always saw to it that he hurt her enough so she'd come. He stopped. Hurt her. But that wasn't how humans made love, now was it? He'd had to train her to enjoy the pain but she enjoyed herself now. Not like she had any choice in the matter, the voice at the back of his brain reminded him. No, it's not like that, he thought as he punched a Fyarl demon hard enough to send it flying across the room.
She said she'd never leave me, Spike thought. Like Angel? Like Dru? Angel had never said that; he'd said I was his, forever his, but then he got his soul back. And he left. And Dru, Dru had never said anything of the sort. I was always the one going on about our eternal love and I was the one who assumed that Dru and I would be together forever. I assumed she loved me. Just like I did with Willow. Spike staggered back towards the hotel, more beaten down by his thoughts than he'd been by the fights.
Willow never loved me. Dru never loved me. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted but he did know there was only one person who could set things right. Spike called Angel. Of course it wasn't Angel who picked up.
“I need to talk to Angel,” he said.
“Yeah, get in line mister,” said the voice on the other end. Female. Pissed off. Just what he needed.
“Just tell him Spike's on the line.”
“Spike?” He heard voices over the phone, obviously not taking vampire hearing into account. When he heard Willow's name, he winced. So, they'd figured out he'd taken her, had they? Clever of them really.
“Spike.” Angel, at last.
“Angel.” Disappointment bloomed in Spike's heart as he heard, in the silence, what Angel was afraid to ask. “What, no hearty welcome for the return of the prodigal son?”
“Don't go there, Childe,” Angel growled.
“Ah, ah. You need to be nice to me. Got something you want,” Spike replied before raising the whiskey to his lips.
“Willow,” Angel whispered.
“Got it in one. And they always said I was the smart one. Well, they were right but still, you do have your moments.”
“What do you want for her?” Angel asked.
“Want?” Spike looked around at what his world had become: a dark, dank room as cold and as impersonal as a grave; a tic toc thingamajig that provided glimpses of the past, of the distant, but didn't let you touch, never let you touch. What I've always wanted. I want you to love me, he thought. He threw the bottle against the wall and could tell, by the hiss on the other end of the phone, that Angel had heard it shatter. “Don't want anything. Take her back. I'm done with her.”
“Spike,” Angel asked tentatively.
“Yeah,” Spike replied cautiously.
“How is Willow?” Spike started laughing. Of course Angel wasn't asking about him. It was never about him.
“I broke her. All I wanted was for someone to love me and I broke her and I can't fix her.” Then Spike's rage took over again. “Are you glad now that I'm second best again?”
Angel was silent for a moment before answering. “I just want what's best for Willow. If she's hurt, if you can't help her...” Angel continued when Spike didn't answer, “Please Spike. Just tell me where she is.”
“Maybe I won't,” Spike slurred into the phone. “Maybe I'll keep her anyway. Even if she doesn't love me, she's good at pretending she does.” A wave of sadness hit Spike. “She doesn't love me. Nobody does. Not Dru. Not you.”
“Spike, I...”
“Don't say it,” Spike interrupted. “Don't tell me your souled self loves me. Had enough lies.”
“I do love you,” came the inevitable response. “Just not the way you want.” Spike didn't bother to respond. “Please Spike. Please don't hold Willow...”
“Against her will?” Spike finished. “Said I'd had enough of lies. Hyperion Hotel. You've heard of it, yeah? You know the room. I'll leave the key out on the front desk.”
“Spike.” Something in Angel's voice gave Spike hope, made him think he was wanted after all, until Angel shattered that hope by asking, “Willow is OK, isn't she?”
“Yeah, she'll still be alive when you get here.” Responding to the silence on the other end of the line, he added, “I'm not going to hurt her Angel.” Spike decided to twist the knife in. “I'm not you. I don't hurt those I love. They just hurt me.”
“Thank you,” Angel whispered before hanging up.
---.