Lost Memories

She’d lost her mind. That was the only reasonable explanation for this. She could just do the spell without his permission. Sure, it would be nice to have him agree with it, would most certainly make it easier to cast, but she could do it anyway. Just refuse to go with him tonight and begin casting he spell the moment he was gone. They’d wake up tomorrow with no memories of their entire tryst and she’d finally be free of her love for him and all the guilt it caused.

Who was she kidding? It was best to be honest with herself even if she couldn’t be honest with everyone else in her life. She wanted this, maybe even more than he did. That’s why she’d said goodnight to Buffy just moments ago and was now hurriedly dressing in a corner of her room not visible from the window. That’s why she was now throwing a trench coat over very little clothing - if her ensemble could even be considered “clothing” to begin with. A trench coat worn over racy lingerie, such a cliché, but she knew he’d have no objections, and the little number she had on was sure to throw him off. That was the plan, knock him off kilter in the very beginning. The more control she had over her body and her reaction to him, the more control she’d have over her emotions. If she could control her body and her heart, she might just get through this with her secrets and dignity intact, and maybe even enjoy herself a little in the process.

At first she’d thought to pack an overnight bag, but on second thought had dumped everything back in her drawers. Instead she grabbed a larger purse, stuffing only her toothbrush, toothpaste, a few bottles of water, and some chips inside. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be needing clothing anyway. She’d be coming home early enough in the morning to climb back in her window before the rest of Sunnydale was up and about, so the coat would be fine for her “walk of shame”.

She took one last look in the mirror, checking her hair, makeup, and clothes (or lack thereof), sucked in a deep breath of resignation, and then lowered herself onto the chair she’d placed by the window. All there was to do now was wait.


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It’d taken him a little longer than he’d thought to get rid of the Slayer. His normal quips and insults hadn’t been enough to piss her off, hadn’t pissed her off at all really. Oh, she’d pretended to be mad, but she wasn’t fooling him. He could smell the musky scent of her arousal just a few minutes into their patrol.

He’d had to whip out the big guns in order to make her mad enough to leave, mad enough to suffer a night without his services. He’d only gotten in two good shots about how “wrong” she was before she’d thrown the first real punch. Not intended to be foreplay, that punch was all business, she’d been aiming to cause some real bloodshed. But, he was having none of that tonight. Willow was waiting for him, and he didn’t want her sympathy or pity filled caresses. He wanted to be whole and undamaged when he finally took her to his bed the way he’d wanted to for so long.

So, he caught her wrist mid-air and easily flipped her to the ground. She wasn’t used to him really fighting back, so the element of surprise was on his side. She was on her back and pinned down before the fact that he’d stopped her strike even had time to register. He knew he had to play this carefully. If he came on to her too hard she’d get so worked up there would be no hope of getting away from her tonight. If he didn’t come on to her hard enough, she’d turn the tables on him and fuck him hard just to establish her control over him again.

So, he was skating on thin ice when he leaned in, stopped just short of her lips, tilted his head with only a trace of his normal cockiness, and smirked, one eyebrow raising up just enough to cause her breath to hitch. The key was proximity. When he was on top of her like this, invading her space and demanding her attention, it tended to force her into reality for a minute. Caused her to see exactly who she’d become and what she’d been doing. In that moment of clarity, he’d be able to really touch her, if only briefly. Normally he used those rare moments to try and pull the woman he loved to safety, but not tonight. Tonight, he wanted nothing more than to send her on her way, preferably with as much self-loathing as possible.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, luv. Never said it was a bad thing, I kinda like how you came back. Little bit closer to the darkness, little more attainable for the likes of me.”

“I don’t belong to you Spike. I’m not yours, you don’t deserve someone like me, and you’re completely delusional if you think you do. Completely out of your mind if you think I won’t or can’t stake your ass without a moment’s hesitation.” The was nothing but ice in her eyes and he knew she meant every word. The moment he stopped being useful to her, well, he’d better just mosey on out of Dodge. But, those were concerns for another time and place, right now he had more important things to do.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it Slayer, but see, right now you still need me. Who else is going to give you what you need? Who else can make you feel like I do? Where else will you find the darkness you crave? The painful pleasure that keeps you coming back? You see baby, I got you now, I do own you. You need me, I’m in your blood and you can’t get enough. I don’t have much to worry about as long as I’m still useful to you.” He made a big show of inhaling just inches from her neck. “Judging from your smell right now, I’d say you still want me in one piece. After all, it’s kinda hard to fuck a pile of dust, right?”

There it was, the truth she didn’t want to face, the fact that she needed him for anything other than occasional back up or babysitting. Then suddenly he was the one looking up at the stars and she was gone. She wouldn’t be back tonight, probably not for several days. That was ok with him, wouldn’t feel much like humoring her for a while anyway.

He stood up, dusted himself off and headed back to his crypt. He’d give Buffy a little while to get herself under control and back home before he left to get Red. Besides, he had some preparations to attend to before he was ready for tonight.


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Where was he? Buffy had been home almost an hour and a half, and there was still no Spike. Maybe he wasn’t coming, she tried to ignore the twinge of despair that came with that thought. Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe……maybe he’d changed his mind and had sex with Buffy instead. Plain, homely Willow or gorgeous, sexy, super girl Buffy, really no competition there. She should just change her clothes and go to bed.

She was studying her hands and contemplating doing just that when the familiar tap at her window sent her entire body into overdrive.