Lost Memories

A/N: We're going pretty far into season 7 here. Way past evil Willow and crazy Spike. Spike is living in the basement at the Summer's residence already and Willow is with Kennedy.

She’s at the top of the stairs again, just outside the door, and as always, he’s leaning on the other side. She can’t hear him, doesn’t have the enhanced senses like he does. He can hear her heart beating fast with indecision. Imagines her hand raised willing herself to knock this time. She won’t, he knows that, but for a minute he lets himself pretend:

She knocks, softly enough that no one but he will hear, and before her knuckles rap the second time the door is swinging open and she’s in his arms. As is normal, the internal war rages, but this time it’s lost. He can control the urge as long as she’s on the other side of the door, the room, the couch, as long as he doesn’t touch her, but this is too much and he gives in. Tilting her chin and looking directly into her eyes, he presses his lips to hers and she gasps. All the memories flood back, washing over her like a typhoon. Then she’s kissing him in earnest, making up for lost time, seeking and giving comfort, wanting him as much as he’s wanted her all this time. Now she knows. Everything he’s done, all the blood, sweat, and tears he put into winning back his soul, the torment and agony he’s been in since he did, it was all for her. All of it so that he could be the kind of man she could find pride in loving.

He’s pulled out of his fantasy when he hears her quiet retreating footsteps. If he listens hard enough, concentrates on nothing but her, he’ll be able to hear the lullaby of her heartbeat, pick it out from the many others fluttering madly in the night. And, as always he does, and just like every other night, it’s the only thing that keeps the demons and nightmares at bay and allows him a few hours of glorious, dreamless, peaceful rest.


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She doesn’t know what draws her here, to him. She isn’t sure why most every night finds her creeping out of her bed and to this door. Maybe it’s because he’s the only other person who might understand her anguish. Really, aren’t they so much alike right now? Both lost and hurt, both needing someone to understand, and she could do that for him. And just maybe by helping him, she could find some of the absolution she so desperately needs.

She raises her fist, this time she’ll knock. This time she’ll go in and offer him the little bit of herself that’s not lost in her twisted, murdering soul. And maybe by doing that, by forcing that part of herself to the fore, she can truly start to heal. She can find herself again and be the person that was lost so many months ago when Tara was ripped from her and the world slipped into the darkness of her rage and revenge.

But she doesn’t knock, never does. Just drops her hand, shakes her head, and tiptoes back to her room, her bed, the bed she shares with Kennedy. Kennedy, so young and naïve, thinks she knows how the world works, thinks she truly seen, touched, and fought evil. Maybe she has, but nothing compares to the evil you can find in yourself. Fighting evil from the inside out? You can only understand that if you’ve experienced it. That’s the reason she feels connected to Spike, she’s certain. As she assures herself of this, there’s a slight tingle somewhere deep in her subconscious. She has a sudden flash of pale skin, blue eyes dark with desire, and the feel of soft cool lips on hers. With a slight shudder her mind finally relaxes and she falls into a deep if fitful sleep. Tomorrow she won’t remember her momentary vision of him or the security and immense arousal that came with it, she never does.