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Spike was drunk. No surprise there. Drink was the only thing that seemed to help these days. Be careful what you wish for, isn’t that how the saying went? Well, Spike’s fondest wish had come true and look at what that had brought him.

Spike had Buffy in his bed at last. Well, not often in his bed. Usually it was on the floor, up against the wall…wherever she wanted it. And oh, how she wanted it. Fast, hard, rough, and brutal…that was how she wanted it. You’d think that would be the answer to a demon’s fondest prayer. So why wasn’t Spike happy?

Not only wasn’t Spike happy, he was downright miserable. Sure, he was shagging the Slayer. But there was no relationship. She beat him and insulted him and told him he was beneath her. Not exactly emotionally sustaining. Served him right for falling for yet another of Angelus’ castoffs. No matter how much he tried to do for her, how much he tried to show her that he cared, how much love he tried to give her, she still spit on him and threw him away after she had gotten what she wanted from him.

She said he made her ‘feel’. Feel what was what Spike wanted to know. Because it sure wasn’t love, or even passion. It wasn’t any of the things Spike so desperately wanted Buffy to feel for him. Making her feel scorn, disdain, and contempt had not been what Spike had in mind.

And now, walking along the sidewalk was the witch responsible for this whole mess. The witch who had brought Buffy back. Who had ripped her out of Heaven and somehow done it all wrong, bringing Buffy back, not as the brave, caring girl he loved, but as a cold, brutal thing. It was all Willow’s fault that Buffy was broken and Spike was miserable. She was the one to blame for the whole sad shambles that his unlife had become.

“Well, witch, what are you doing out? Looking to whip up some more mojo so you can try to get someone killed? Just like you did with Niblet?” Spike’s words may have been slurred, but even in his drunken condition, he could see that they had hit home.

Willow burst into tears and fell to her knees.

“When will it be enough, Spike? I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” Willow began sobbing, making her words nearly unintelligible.

“I haven’t used magick in weeks…WEEKS! And you have no idea how hard that’s been! It hurts! My whole body hurts…all the time! I have apologized with every breath in my lungs! And no one cares! Not Buffy, not Xander, not Tara, not even you, though I’d think you of all people would understand! No one is ever going to forgive me! Ever! No matter what I do! I miss Tara, she was my everything! And now I’ll never hold her in my arms again! Everyone’s afraid to even touch me! They hate me! Do you know how long it’s been since anyone even hugged me? I’d give anything for someone to just hold me! And no one ever will, not ever again! No matter what I do! It will never be enough! I’m sorry!”

With that, Willow broke down completely and Spike couldn’t help himself. He went to her and knelt beside her, taking her in his arms.

“S’okay, luv, it’s okay.” Willow’s arms went around him, clutching at him desperately, as if she were drowning and he was the only thing that could save her. As he brought her to her feet, his arms still wrapped around her shaking, sobbing form; Spike headed in the direction of a local motel. Tonight he wanted to just hold her and be held someplace safe, someplace where the Slayer wouldn’t find them. Then tomorrow he would tell Willow the whole truth. Spike’s problems weren’t Willow’s fault, he realized now. She had only done what they had asked of her. If anyone was to blame for anything, it was him and her other friends. But maybe, together, he and Willow could make everything alright again. And as they walked down the street together, Spike hugged Willow tightly and smiled for the first time in a very long while.

The End.
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The authors own nothing. Joss, UPN, WB, etc. own Buffy, the show, the characters, the places, and the backstory. The authors own any original plots.