A Very Ordinary Evil

Part 30 Eye of the Beholder


Immediately following the previous part


The remains of the Scooby Gang looked at one another. They were still in shock. "Did we just like, fire Buffy?" Xander asked, still stunned by what had happened.

"Er ? in essence, yes Xander, we just did." Giles looked haggard and traumatised by the events of the previous thirty minutes. He drew a long breath and continued, "The issue, of course, is what do we do now? With Buffy in England and Faith still imprisoned, we'll need to continue without a slayer."

"Well ?" Willow began, then lost track of her thoughts. "No, don't worry about it." She turned back to Spike and burrowed into his side, her head almost buried under his shoulder.

"Should we continue?" Giles asked the question gently, aware that his proteges were all trying to deal with what had to be the most traumatic event of their lives so far. He looked around slowly, thinking, and noticed that there seemed to be very little difference amongst the human members of his 'family'. Anya, who had far less experience with or connection to, Buffy appeared just as shocked as Xander or Willow. "No, perhaps not. Everyone, go home and rest it's been a dreadful day for all of us. We'll meet again, when? Tuesday evening?"

"What about taking Buffy to the airport? I mean, Giles, won't she be pissed if we don't?" Xander asked the unspoken question on behalf of everyone except Spike.

"Xander, she'll still be asleep then. Travers will collect her in an ambulance and they'll take her to England on a hospital flight. She'll remain sedated until she's safe and sound over there. She wouldn't remember a thing anyway. Oh! I've also arranged with Travers for Dawn to accompany her. That way neither of them will be completely alone." Giles spoke sombrely before adding, under his breath, "and hopefully Dawn will actually get a decent education and learn to spell English in English."

"But Giles, it's just not right," Xander persisted. "To send Dawn to England. I mean, do they even have Cartoon Network over there?"

Giles looked at Xander over the bridge of his glasses. "Really Xander, that's hardly the issue. The real issue is that Buffy needs competent professional help, urgently. The Council is uniquely placed to provide that help, being aware of her abilities as a slayer, the things she has to confront and it's emotional effects on a young girl. We need to do this for the sake of our friend. Unless, of course, you don't want her to recover."

Willow's head snapped up at that. "Giles, that's so unfair. You know that's not what Xander meant."

Giles looked over at Willow, surprised that her voice hadn't betrayed the streams of tears continuing to pour down her face. "I'm sorry. That was a touch out of order wasn't it." Giles small smile instantly conveyed his apology for both reacting to Xander and also for allowing his reserve to slip slightly. "Look, I think we should really all try and get some rest and meet here again on Tuesday."

Spike nodded slowly and stood. "C'mon pet. Ripper's right. There's nothing we can do here, and brooding's only gonna make you more miserable." As he spoke, he bodily lifted Willow and carried her towards the door. He looked back at the door and spoke again. "The rest of you should probably get some rest too." He opened the door and walked out, closing it with his foot.

* * * *

Spike carried Willow from the car into their apartment. As soon as the door had shut behind them, Willow's control fell away and she burst into huge racking sobs. They accelerated into a complete crying jag, verging on hysteria. Spike just held her in his arms, waiting patiently, and otherwise doing nothing but crooning almost subliminally to his lover. Anyone who had known Spike prior to his involvement with Willow would have been profoundly shocked. There was none of the hyperactivity, none of the harnessed fury and anger that so many associated with him evident in the vampire now. What was present was a tender, loving man, much more reminiscent of the pre-change William the Bloody Awful Poet than even Spike was willing to acknowledge himself. He waited patiently for his lover to cry herself out, knowing when she did, that they would have to deal with her guilt and grief together.

Slowly, Willow's tears subsided. She looked up at Spike, her face still blotched and her eyes still teary. "Please, Spike, punish me."

"What?" Spike's whole face spoke of his confusion. "For what pet?"

"I nearly killed Buffy!"

"C'mon Willow. She was out of control. She was about to attack me. What else could you do?"

"I shouldn't have almost suffocated her Spike! I'm a monster!"

"You never intendeat, at, little one. You were only trying to keep me safe."

"But I did it. I nearly killed my friend; a friend who's saved my worthless life thousands of times."

"Pet!" Spike's voice snapped into command mode. "I will not countenance you calling yourself worthless! What have I said about that before?"

Willow looked up at him, shocked at the tone in his voice. He hadn't used the command voice for a while, but it was even more effective for that. "That I'm not worthless, Master. But I feel worthless. I feel bad. I'm a bad person."

Spike let out a needless sigh and pulled Willow in close, stroking her hair. He wrapped both arms around her and caressed her lower back with one hand as he asked, "Pet, tell me what you have to have. What do your body and mind demand?"

Willookedoked up, shocked. Not so much because she did not know, but because she sensed that Spike did. And that voice left her no room to avoid facing it. "I need to be punished, to be hurt. Like I talked about, remember? I need to hurt. Bad." As she spoke, Willow started to tremble, as if she was entering a state of shock. She looked up and pleaded, "Spike, plee-ease."

As Spike watched her, many differing thoughts ran through his mind. He felt protective and responsible, but also as if the best way to do that was to give her what she craved. He also knew that if he was to do so, he would have to be careful, because some of what she craved could leave her weakened for days, and since there was another Scooby meeting in forty-eight hours he could not allow her to be seen as being in pain. He quickly came to a decision. "Are you sure pet?"

Willow gulped and nodded, eyes averted from him.

Spike reached down and gently tilted her chin up so she was forced to look at him. "Are you sure pet? Really sure? This could change our relationship permanently."

Willow nodded in reply, but Spike could see the need in her eyes, it burned inside her. A need to suffer, to feel; that she couldn't properly do without pain. "All right pet. We'll do it." As he spoke, fear, anticipation and confusion all flooded his mind. "Let's head down to the playroom." So saying, he took Willow's hand and led her down the stairwell.

When they had reached the basement playroom and shut the trapdoor, Spike drew Willow into his arms once again. "Listen pet," he said, choosing his words with care. He spoke using words he knew Willow would hear and understand fully. "This will take you to places you haven't been before. Not because it'll necessarily hurt you any more than you've done to yourself in the past, but because you won't be doing it, I will. It may scare or even begin to panic you. If it does, remember your safeword. I'll also be watching you carefully, and, assuming the chip doesn't knock me flat, I'll also monitor your body language and other behaviour, okay?"

Willow again nodded, rather than speak. Spike decided that the redhead had to become more engaged. "Pet, pick two things you want me to use, and I'll do the rest. Tell me which two you want."

Willow pointed to a viciously barbed cat o' nine tails. Spike turned her gently by the shoulder and said, gently but in a tone that indicated that he would accept no compromise, "I said tell me pet."

Willow looked at Spike, took a breath and spoke in a small, tremulous voice. "Use the cat, Master, and a knife. Please. Make me pay." Willow's voice was cracking as she spoke.

Spike nodded and led her to a triangular structure that looked a lot like an overgrown artist's easel. The top was adorned with a set of leather cuffs, thicker and stronger than she was used to seeing, and the ankle cuffs at the base of each leg were likewise thicker and stronger. Spike efficiently faed hed her into the cuffs, buckling them tightly, and then also padlocking them in place by using the little stems, the small posts which locked the two layers of leather together, fitted under the buckle straps.

Having done so, Spike took the cat and the knife in one hand and caressed Willow softly with his palm. "Ready pet?"

"Yes, Master." Willow's voice was more even now, calmer and more accepting as she slid into subspace.

Spike also heard the immediacy of herusalusal. {Good,} he thought, {at least she's moving away from pure guilt}. He moved in closer, and began to swing the cat behind her, the tails whistling ominously close to her. He then stopped and drew the knife from its sheath. It was a lovely piece of work, he had to admit. A simple skinning knife made from Solingen Steel, with an equally simple but elegant bone handle. What made it special to him, however, was the simple fact that, if he laid it on a table, blade upward, and placed a sheet of paper on the blade, the sheet would cut in two from simply the pressure of its own weight.

He moved behind Willow silently and the first she knew of his presence was the feeling of her loose shirt being slit straight up the centre of the back, from waistband to collar. The vampire then pulled the two sides of her shirts apart, letting them hang from the sleeve. Reaching up, he cut, just as carefully, along each of the sleeves until the whole of the shirt fell, in a loose pile of scraps, to the floor.

Spike looked at Willow's naked back, relieved that she had gone braless. In retrospect he should have stripped her before tying her to the triangle. Now he faced the difficulties posed by her maxi-skirt. He knew that, Dominant or not, if he cut it off her he'd be in doghouse so profoundly they'd be feeding him on bagged blood in dog food cans.

{This definitely poses some problems,} he thought. {How the hell am I gonna get that off her without cutting it? There's no bloody way! Shit.} Spike bent slightly and unfastened the skirt, checking the inside of the waistband as he did so, just in case he somehow got lucky. {Yeah, right sunshine. Like she was gonna have a velcro waistband.} Standing back up, he whispered into her ear, "Pet, I either have to unbuckle you or slice it off. I know you like this skirt. Your call, which do I do?"

"Cut it." Willow's voice was small, plaintive and Spike detected hints that she wanted her punishment to be emotional and spiritual rather than merely physical.

"Right pet." Spike moved back and lowered the knife to the base of the skirt's zip, cutting through the zip itself, he ran the blade down the seam, opening it completely and allowing it to fall in front of her. He pulled the waistband of her thin cotton panties up hard, scraping the gusset painfully across her already swollen lips before cutting one hip through in a single slicing motion. He let them, too, fall to the floor.

Still without speaking, Spike took the cat o' nine tails and began to swing it in a complex rotational pattern, reminiscent of a figure eight but far more intricate. The first blows began to rain down on Willow's exposed back. As he began to lightly but methodically beat her, the cat began to cut slightly here and there over her back. The cuts weren't even fully penetrating the skin, so no blood was being drawn, but Spike felt a twinge from the chip. "D'you want this pet?"

"Uh huh." Willow's moaned reply was all she could articulate with the endorphins flooding her system. Spike's incipient headache vanished as he heard her affirm what he was doing. He continued, picking up both speed and consequently force as he did so. The tails of the cat were now slapping Willow's upper back, and wrapping around her shoulders and rib cage, licking at the sides of her breasts and collar bone. The barbs were also biting deeper, beginning to draw just a little blood; and Spike could scent Willow's flushing rush of pleasure and desire. He stopped a moment to lap up the small trails of blood that were beginning to trickle down her back. He found it intoxicating, almost beyond measure, and also felt his body's natural response to that intoxication arousal.

Schooling himself, he stepped back to continue. He lifted the cat and began once more. He began to use the kind of lateral strokes used in the nineteenth century by the British Army. He'd seen a soldier flogged at his father's orders as a child in India, and had never forgotten it. He started slowly, but with very heavy strokes, each stoke cut deeply enough to split the skin deeply and blood began to run freely down her back, and each stroke was accompanied by a combination of cries of pleasure, pain, need and release. Her obvious pleasure seemed to be keeping Spike's chip at bay as he continued. He entered an altered state and was no longer even thinking about the chip. He threw down the cat after perhaps twenty hard strokes and stripped. He pressed his naked form against her, feeling the wet warmth of her blood coating his chest and thighs. He felt Willow's body shuddering as multiple orgasms fought with her endorphin rush to see which could provide the greater pleasure. The blond vampire felt his body surging, demanding release, but he knew it was not yet time, and he was also fully aware of the possibility that he may not get that release for some days. It depended on how far Willow needed to go. {Well, unless I consort with Rosie Palm and her five sisters}.

"What do you need now babydoll? Tell me." Spike whispered into Willow's ear softly.

"Master, I need you to take control, don't let me decide."

"How pet, how do you need me? Just tell me, luv."

"Fuck me Master. Claim me! Just fuck me hard! Please!"

"You're sure pet? Do you realise exactly what you're asking me to do?"

"YES! Just do it Master, Please!" Willow was literally in tears of agonising need and burning arousal. She could feel a combination of sweat, her own juices and a little blood slicking her thighs.

Spike chuckled gutturally, his voice thickened by a raging, nearly uncontrollable lust. He quickly drove deep and hard inside Willow, with but a single thrust he penetrated her fully. Willow's arousal was so intense he felt as if he had entered a molten pit. He began to fuck, ramming in and out of her brutally. As he did so, he kept a whispered litany up, only just loud enough for her to hear. "Gods, pet, you're mine! Mine is the only cock you'll ever need. Tell me pet, how does it feel?"

Willow's head lolled back as she tried to respond, but all that came out of her mouth was a high pitched series of crying wails as Spike ravished her so savagely the breath was being forced from her body. Spike lowered his hands to grip her hips and began to fuck her even harder, deeper and more ruthlessly. Willow writhed and continually gasped as Spike took her. He leaned into her again, to resume the litany. "Tell me pet, you why why I'm doing this, don't you?"

"Y-y-yes, Master."

"Then why, pet?"

"B-because it's a-all I deserve. God!" Willow's lust, as intense and all embracing as Spike's, meant that her ability to focus was severely limited; as she drew her breath to talk, she reflected briefly on what was happening and that was enough to send her surging into orgasm. "Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!" Her body snapped back and forth, almost whip-like as each pulse raced through her body, energising her nervous system to nearly the overload point. "Oh God yesssssss."

"No pet, it's what you need right now." He wondered if Willow had even registered what he had said.

As her muscles relaxed in the aftereffects of her orgasm, Spike slowed enough to allow him to pick up the knife. As he continued to fuck her helplessly suspended body at a more measured pace, he started to run the tip of the blade over her spine, not cutting, or even welting the skin, but sending Willow into further paroxysms of pleasure as he did so. Once again, endorphins warred in her brain as she tripped over the line into the deepest sub space she had yet entered. Her head lolled forward and her moans were becoming mixed with helpless giggles as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Spike ran the blade outward around her ribcage and then down her side, still teasing and torturing her with its feel. The cold metal made her skin crawl as it also made her fully embrace her true self.

Spike trailed the blade around, and working by touch, found one of her nipples, and balancing the point atop the nipple asked her. "D'ya trust me pet?"

"Uh huh," was all Willow could manage as Spike teased the tip of her nipple with the blade. "Ohhhhhhhh!" The cry came out as she felt Spike spin the blade tip on her nipple. She began to whimper as spike led the blade tip back over her breast this time, once he was free of the aureole, scoring her skin very lightly.

"Oh God that feels good!" Willow expressed her feelings, unaware she had done more than think the words.

"So what do you need pet?"

"Just one. Just one cut Master. Please!"

Spike grinned. He wasn't about to tell her, but he was exceedingly pleased that her need had reduced to a single cut. "All right baby, I'll make it as I cum." He knew it wouldn't be long, his self-control had been growing ragged for some time, and he felt the burning need of release. Taking a long breath, he uncuffed Willow and carried her to the bed that the room was equipped with.

Carefully, he lay her on the sheet and sat next to her for a moment, and looked at her. "Now luv, or after I cum?"

"Now! Now!" Willow's cries weren't loud, and her mind was still a delirium of interlocking desires, needs and cravings. All she knew was that she needed to feel Spike mark her. "Please Master, mark me. Let the world know I belong to you."

Spike smiled happily. He may not be able to bite her, although he was beginning to wonder about that, as long as Willow was willing herself to have him bite her. "All right baby. One last question. Where?"

"Hip." Just one word was all that Willow was capable of.

"Ready love?"

Willow just nodded mutely in response. Spike lifted the blade and pressed firmly into Willow's skin, cutting a short line horizontally just below the peak of the hipbone. Willow screamed in a mixture of searing agony and explosive ecstasy, with the pain predominating, but Willow's need for forgiveness made that, in it's own way, an ecstatic experience in itself.

Spike lifted the blade again and quickly made two almost vertical cuts which met, creating a long, very thin, triangle, the tips of the short side extending past the long edges very slightly. He grinned at Willow as he leant forward to lap up the blood. "Pet, you taste so damn good. Now, lets have a look at it." Spike examined the wound, which was still flowing freely. "Luv, we need to cover this, stop the bleeding." So saying, he got off the bed and got the small first aid kit that he had stocked the playroom with. He returned to the bed and covered the wound with several layers of absorbent gauze and then taped it firmly in place.

He grinned wickedly for a moment and then reached out to take Willow by the hair and used it to pull her to him. He positioned His hands over either ear and forced her head down towards his throbbing, precum-soaked cock. Once Willow was on all fours, her face only inches away. "Do you really want me to use you pet?"

Willow nodded, her mouth opening automatically. As it did so, Spike roughly pulled her mouth onto his waiting erection.

As Spike forced his way inside, he felt the slight roughness of her teeth scraping against his shaft, and as Willow became aware of it, her mouth opened slightly wider, to better accommodate him. His cock pushed down, the head gently rubbing over her palate until he reached her throat. When he felt Willow's throat begin to spasm automatically, he eased back slightly to stop her gagging. He began to thrust, gently at first, trying to avoid hitting the redhead's gag point; and he was surprised to hear a slightly disappointed moan coming from his lover. He looked down, and saw her looking up at him, an statement of rejection obvious in her eyes.

He smiled, whispering to her, "Sorry pet, I see what you want now." As he spoke, he gripped the back of Willow's head firmly and began to forcefully fuck into her mouth. He no longer worried about the gag reflex, but simply drove his rigid cock past it with each thrust. Spike heard thokihoking gasps as Willow attempted to please him. As he looked down, he could see the growing excitement on Willow's face. His using her mouth like this was increasing her excitement, he could smell the waves of arousal as her wetness slicked her thighs and literally dipped onto the bed sheets. Willow climaxed slightly ahead of the blond vampire, her screams of orgasm muffled by Spike's thrusting cock as it pistoned in and out of her mouth. Spike came only moments later, his head thrown back; game face locked in place as he roared his pleasure.

They both collapsed onto the bed, satiated. Willow smiled up at her lover and Master, some of the cold semen still staining her lips and a thin line running towards her chin. She deliberately, with a wicked grin, flickered her tongue out to lick up the errant trail of his seed; knowing full well, as she did so, precisely how it would look.

Spike moaned as he saw her action, but underlying the moan was a massive sense of relief. He could see by that simple action, that she had purged her guilt about Buffy. He smiled at his lover and submissive, drew in the necessary breath with which to speak, and said, simply but with all his sincerity, "I love you pet."

Willow smiled; this one wasn't, as she thought of it, her 'naughty' smile but a smile of sheer pleasure and joy. His few words touched her heart, in a way that no-one had previously succeeded in doing. Unlike her previous relationships, she had proof positive that he loved her. What he had done demonstrated that to her beyond any possibility of questioning. She slid off the bed and knelt, automatically assuming the position he had shown her weeks before. "I trust you, Master. Completely. Please, take my safeword. I want you to own me totally."