The Games We Play

By Anastasia

Title: The Games We Play - LA, Leather Pants, Hellfire And The Roof Of A Desoto
Author: Anastasia ([email protected])
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own none, not even the Hellfire Club, just borrowing them for my own twisted pleasure and public humiliation.
Feedback: If you want me to continue this it is kind of mandatory - if I don't get nagged I just don't write.  Also not sure if this story really works, so tell me...please!!!
Notes: Okay this is the first story in a series I am doing called "The Games We Play".  Season Four is implied and shock horror I have bought Oz
back (just for a little while).  I have also bought back the Desoto.  This series isn't going to be all angsty, it will be a reflection of normal life and
relationships, a few twisted and hopefully funny moments and a couple of things that will question my sanity.  Maybe.  If I don't get feedback then it
stops on the roof of the Desoto.  Oh, yeah, Inell this is the story I was telling you about - there you go it's just for you!!  What??  Charms??Ummm, think of this as a writers block kick start...it's coming ok.

***

Spike wandered along the pavement smoking a cigarette reflecting on his unlife in Sunnyhell.  It was crap.  He had spent the earlier part of the
evening sitting on a park bench watching all the little happy meals walk past, young, pretty and weak.  Silly little chits who were stupid enough to
walk alone, smiling their flirty little smiles at the demon having no idea how tempting they were to him.  A few months ago he would have flirted
back, teasing them, making them want him and then he'd give them a hicky they would never forget.  Well actually they wouldn't have the
opportunity to remember they'd be dead.  That was then, this was now, all he could do was look, scowl and muse over his past conquests.

This was his life now, defanged and reluctantly involved with the slayer and her little support group.  Shaking his head he took another drag on his
cigarette as he glanced down the darkened street.  The wolf's van was parked out the front of Giles apartment complex.  His features formed a half
snarl, the wolf had been back for a month now. After a week of tears, meaningful conversations and the encouragement of the group Oz and Willow
were once again in a relationship.  Ever since then he'd noticed that Willow had turned into a complete bitch - her temper was short and she was
constantly fatigued.  Spike thought she was a fool to take the wolf back, he had hurt her once and he would do it again - it was in his werewolf
nature to want a mate of his own kind and it was only a matter of time before he'd leave for a bitch.

Spike leant against the van, finishing his cigarette and musing over his thoughts.  That's when he heard it.  Turning his head slightly he listened,
amused at the soft grunts and groans coming from the interior.  Smirking he felt the van move under his shoulder as the moans of the wolf became
louder.  Turning his gaze back to Giles he continued to listen  - it had been too long.  Sure Harmony hadn't been his dark goddess, but what the hell
she was still a fuck.  Closing his eyes he concentrated on the sounds, on the passion in the wolf's pleadings, and then he smiled at the soft moans
of Willow. An image flashed through his mind he could see her wrapped around him, writhing beneath him as he fucked her, moaning for him.  Biting
into the side of his cheek he again thought that it had been far too long.  Oz begging Willow to come interrupted his thoughts, the sound he heard
next made him raise an eyebrow.  Focusing on Willow's moans he started to smirk - she was faking.  The wolf wasn't man enough for her.  He rolled
his head forward and suppressed his laugh as he heard the wolf practically howl as he came.

"That would explain the moods." Spike muttered to himself as he flicked the cigarette butt away and banged on the side of the van.  "You two get a
bloody room!"

He laughed as he heard them scrambling about and walked up the path to the watchers house.  Giles had wanted him back at 7.30; it was now
closer to 8pm.

"At last." Exclaimed Giles as Spike sauntered into the living room.  "Well, now all we need is Willow."

"She's coming," Spike exaggerated his pronunciation of the word, just as a flustered and dishevelled Willow walked through the door.  Spike grinned
at her, causing her to turn a brighter shade of red, before leaning in to whisper in her ear.  "Can I offer you a cigarette, pet?"

Smirking Spike turned away from Willow's seething glare and plopped down on the couch setting his feet on the coffee table.  "So what is the deal
this time?"

"Angel," Giles began only to be cut off by Spike groaning and rolling his head back on the couch.  Ignoring the vampires dramatics Giles continued.
"Angel believes he's acquired a laptop that belonged to an associate of the council.  You two are going to LA tonight to pick it up."

"What?" Spike asked incredulously, he could hear Willow begin to protest.

"Well, if the assumptions are correct it could be a valuable asset to us.  The reputation of the man in question is phenononamble - he was brilliant
and highly committed to his duties.  His files could be of great significance." Giles said elatedly.  Spike looked at the watcher, only Giles could get
this excited over the possibility of knowledge.  "The problem is the computer has a complex security system - Angel can't even get into it.  Therefore
Willow is the best person to go, considering her technical knowledge."

"You mean hacking ability." Willow stated joining Spike on the couch and staring dejectedly at his boots on the coffee table.

"Why do I have to go?" asked Spike, sounding like a sullen child. He knew exactly why, the wolf had a gig, Xander was busy shagging as was the
slayer.  Also he had the ability to drive - something relatively few of the Slayerettes appeared to have mastered.

"It could be dangerous." Giles replied.

"So send the slayer," Spike stated.

"Spike, you could at least try to be a little more enthusiastic." Giles sighed; he had his reasons for not sending Buffy and didn't feel it necessary to
share them with Spike or Willow.

"What?  You want me to fake my enthusiasm?" Spike asked in wide-eyed innocence, while brushing his arm against Willow's, causing her to jump.
"That just wouldn't be right.  I mean faking is just a terrible act of deception."

Giles frowned at the vampire who was attempting to stifle his laughter.  Shaking his head Giles took a deep breath.

"Go now," he ordered, his patience wearing thin.  "Angel is expecting you there by ten."

***

Spike eased himself into the drivers' seat of the Desoto and waited for Willow, she was using Giles bathroom.

He loved that car; it was part of him.  When he had first realised he could still maim, damage and destroy non living creatures he had gone straight
to Harmony and her little air headed cronies and savagely beaten the crap out of every single one of them before staking them.  Of course Harmony
had begged for forgiveness, he'd repented and let her service him...then he'd staked her.  That was months ago.  The Desoto and the sweet feeling of
revenge were the only things that he took with him from that brutal and bloody night - and he had been grateful for the car ever since.  Although when
he had first seen it he was absolutely disgusted and cursed that he'd staked Harmony so quickly - he should have made her suffer for the damage to
his beloved car.  The paintwork had been scratched and some of the panels were dented, she had put fluffy cow design car seat covers on because
the original leather seats had been slashed and a silly comic character hung from the rear vision mirror that had been covered with old photos of
her.  The tires were low as was the oil. The thing that had made him want to heave though was the cassettes that littered the interior and were
jammed in the cassette player.  It was the type of music that could be constituted as the foulest and cruellest form of torture that even the most
sadistic demons would not use - sugary sweet pop.  Damn it she should have been doused with Holy Water and left to slowly burn to dust for what
she had done to his car.

Lighting a cigarette Spike shifted slightly and watched as Willow walked down the path a frown marring her face.

When he'd first bought the car back Giles had complained about the "ugly piece of Americana" but he accepted it.  Somehow Spike became
Willow's personal chauffer, for months he would pick her up from her dorm and take her wherever she needed to go before driving her back.  It was
something that Willow greatly appreciated.  Gratitude she displayed one day when she "stole" the Desoto.  When Spike discovered the car missing
it drove him to a fit of rage that he took out on any and every demon he could find - the rage continued for a week.  One evening he walked out to find
it parked, the body had been repaired and resprayed and the once scratchy black paint covered windows had been replaced with black tinted ones.
The interior had also been refurbished with cherry red leather that was soft and supple.  But the thing that he adored and truly appreciated the most
was a six stack CD with eight speakers wired through the car.  Although nothing was ever said he knew it had to be Willow's work, she was the only
one in the little group that he really associated with.  The rest put up with him.  Sure he and Giles had necessarily bonded through their living
conditions however had Spike said he wanted to live in the Desoto he was sure that Giles would have been deliriously happy.  It was Willow who
spent hours chatting to him, although at first he had teased her and tried to discourage her - it didn't work. She'd chat, he'd listen, one day he
started to talk back and the next thing he knew he was looking forward to seeing her.  Damn.  He'd look forward to seeing her smile, hearing her
voice, her soft giggle.  They became the terrible twosome, as thick as thieves, everyone else in the group was paired up so it was natural for them to
fall in together but Spike would never really admit to how much Willow had grown on him.  For months they lived in each other's pocket always
together doing their parts in the fight against evil.

Willow opened the passenger door and sat down.  Fastening her seatbelt she crossed her arms on her chest and stared straight ahead.

"Let's go then pet," Spike said turning over the motor.

Of course that was before the wolf's return.  After that she had stopped laughing, stopped giggling, stopped smiling and eventually stopped talking.
She wasn't happy and Spike hated it.  When she had asked his honest opinion about getting back with Oz he had been blunt and said she would be
a fool.  He really had to work on his tact.

"So," Spike let the word roll around in the silence that had settled in the car for the last ten minutes.  "How's the wolf?"

"Oz is fine," replied Willow, still staring out the window.

"You know," Spike lit up a cigarette. "If he isn't meeting your needs you really should say something to him."

"Wah...what?" she looked at him incredulously.  "What are you talking about?"

"Well tonight's little performance in the van obviously left you unsatisfied," Spike took a long drag on the cigarette and shot the disgruntled redhead a
quick look.  "I mean look at you - you're crawling out of your skin with need, wound up so tight you're about to go crazy."

"I am not going to discuss this with you..." Willow shook her head in disgust.  She had been horrified when she realised that he had been listening
to them.  "God it's none of your business anyway. I can't believe you...you...you...well I can't believe you did it - you listened while we had...you
know what I mean."

"What?  I only caught your non-Oscar winning performance." Spike smirked before starting to imitate the sounds she had been making, his face
twisting in a mock of passion.  Willow stared at him before turning bright red as she realised what he was talking about.

"I am not having this conversation with you." Stated Willow turning away from the still moaning vampire.

"It's only going to get worse you know.  You have to tell him - do you want to go through life unsatisfied?" he sobered up, part of him enjoyed making
her squirm and blush, but part of him wanted to shake some sense into her, and all of those parts just wanted to see her smile again.  "I mean
you're a passionate young women and you deserve better than that."

"I am not having this conversation with you." She repeated, keeping her gaze fixed on the passenger window, vowing to herself if he said sex she
would just die.

"Sex is an important part of a relationship," Spike took another drag on his cigarette.

"I am not having this conversation with you." Willow groaned and sank down in the seat, bringing a hand up to cover her face - he'd said sex. Spike
exhaled the smoke and continued.

"Can I ask you a question?" Without waiting for her reply he asked anyway. "Have you ever had an orgasm with him?"

"I am NOT having this conversation with you."  Willow stated once more, her face turning an intense shade of red.  Spike looked at her and opened
his mouth to say something. "NO!  No more, it isn't any of your business and I am not having this conversation with you.  Not now not ever."

To reinforce that fact she leant forward and turned up the stereo that made further conversation impossible.  Spike continued to smoke his cigarette.

***

Spike looked up at the familiar door of the agency.  He didn't want to go in there and face his sire, but he didn't have a choice.  As they had walked
from the car, parked some five blocks away, he had tried to talk Willow into blowing off their responsibilities and hit the LA nightclubs.  She had
answered him by glaring her disapproval.  Stubbing out his cigarette he followed Willow's lithe figure through the door.

"Willow!" Angel exclaimed as he saw her.  He moved forward to envelop the redhead in a hug, scowling at Spike over her head.

"Angel," she pulled back from his arms to smile at the dark haired vampire.  "You're looking well.  Actually, er, you look like you usually do...but I
haven't seen you for so long, you don't look any different but it so good to see you...you know not in a pile of ashes...so I guess saying you look well
is the right thing to say even though you are a vampire and literally dead..."

"It's nice to see you again Willow," said Angel breaking through her gibberish.  Spike still hadn't moved from the doorway, his face plastered with a
mixture of boredom and hatred.

"So, you have a laptop that is presenting problems?" asked Willow.  Angel nodded and led her to a desk.  "Well we are here to pick it up."

"Didn't Giles tell you?"

"Tell us what, peaches?" Spike finally spoke moving to stand a few feet from the desk they were at.

"I'm hoping that there may be some information on a Grestal, a demon we are currently involved with.  I need anything you can find on it.  That's how
we got the computer in the first place - there were all sorts of whispers about it." Angel said as Willow sat down in front of the small computer.  "If
you could find any information and leave a hard copy of whatever you come across I'd be grateful."

"Well that shouldn't be too hard.  I'll do a file search regarding the demons name and just work on opening those files.  The rest can wait until we get
back to Sunnydale...unless you need anything else?" asked Willow.

"No, no, just those files.  Look I have to go, make yourself at home," he said to Willow, immediately dismissing Spike. "If the phone rings the
machine can get it.  I'm not sure when I'll be back - if you finish and want to head off just pull the door shut behind you."

"Oh, okay," Willow had been hoping to catch up with him a bit more, but it was obvious that he was busy.  "Well, I'll do what I can."

"Thanks Willow," said Angel with a half smile as he stood up.  Walking away from the desk he frowned at Spike before dropping his voice so that
Willow couldn't hear him.  "Stay with her, anything happens and I'll let the crack of dawn kiss your ass goodbye."

"Yeah, love you too peaches." Spike replied a cold sarcasm creeping into his voice as he watched his sire walk out the door.  He looked around the
dingy little office and let out a sigh of boredom.  Willow was already busy with the laptop, her fingers clicking across the keys a look of
concentration on her face.  "So how long is this going to take?"

"Hopefully not long - especially if you don't interrupt by asking me questions every five minutes," said Willow not taking her eyes from the small
screen.  Spike mimicked her silently, his face twisting in imitation before he sat down at the desk usually occupied by Cordy.  Being bored he did
the only thing possible - he started to rummage through her drawers.  Willow glanced up.  "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

Willow closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep calming breath.  "Aren't you hungry or something?  I'm sure Angel won't mind if you help
yourself."

"Fine," Spike pushed himself away from Cordy's desk and headed into the apartment.  He didn't care to go heat some blood and feed, he'd rather
snoop around Angel's abode - see if he could find anything interesting.  He did.  Some fifteen minutes later he re-emerged with a mug of warm blood,
a wicked grin and a plan. He sat down in a chair opposite Willow.  "Finished yet?"

Willow had her elbows resting on the desk, her face buried in her hands, thumbs rubbing at her temple.

"I have the few files that Angel wanted," she murmured.  "Each file seems to have a different password, it's going to take ages."

"How long is 'ages'?" Spike asked carefully placing his full mug of blood on the desk.

"At least a few days," Willow removed her head from her hands and began to close down the computer.  Spike watched in silence until it was safely
packed away and Willow had resumed her seat.

"We should go then," he suggested.  Willow nodded.

"No point hanging around, I'll write Angel a note."  Willow said.  Spike watched her carefully, smirking at the childish happy face she stuck on the
bottom of the note.  Standing up he looked from Willow to the mug of blood and back to Willow. Slowly he moved his hand to the mug and struck it,
sending it flying into Willow's lap and spilling the contents all down her front.  She jumped up out of the chair.

"SPIKE!" she screamed at him, pulling her bloodied top away from her body.  "Great, just fantastic.  You did that on purpose!"

"Me?  Waste good pigs blood?  Not likely.  It was an accident."  Spike feigned innocence as he took hold of her hand and led her into Angel's
apartment.  "Come on you can borrow something...I think leather would suit you."

Willow was about to protest when she felt the blood leaking through to her underwear, making her squirm.  <Oh, this is so revolting!  I am going to
kill him.>  She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she saw a pair of leather pants and a black silk shirt laid out on the bed.

"You planned this!" she accused.

"Come on, pet.  I am not wasting a night in LA.  Either get changed or I'll do it for you." Spike said, not denying his plan.

"I am not wearing that," she said through clenched teeth.  Spike turned to face her.

"Well you can go naked if you want. Those," he stated, pointing to the pants and shirt.  "Are the only thing the great poof has that would go close to
fitting you."

"These aren't Angel's, they're too small," curiosity had gotten the better of Willow as she hesitatingly picked up the pants.  It was either curiosity or
the revolting sensation of have warm blood saturating her knickers.

"They're mine. Angel must have packed them by mistake," Spike spoke softly.  Willow looked at him, she had never seen him wear anything but
black jeans, and she raised an eyebrow in question.  Spike fingered the soft leather.  "Angelus liked his toys in leather. Hurry up and change."

Willow looked at the blonde vampire thoughtfully.  He rarely spoke of the past, especially of Angel, or of Angelus.  Looking back at the pants she
sighed, the blood was getting to her, the fact that she had only been able to open a few files was also annoying her.  Everything about her life was
frustrating at the moment.  Maybe Spike was right, why waste a night in LA?  Picking up the pants and shirt she headed off to the bathroom.

Spike watched as she walked away and grinned.  He lost the grin some 10 minutes later as he could hear Willow's soft muffled curses coming from
the bathroom.

"What are you doing in there pet?" Spike asked from the other side of the door as he tried to work out what exactly she was saying.

"You are too skinny!" she hissed at him through the door.  "They don't fit."

"Come out and let me see," Spike said leaning back against the wall.

"No, I can't get them done up."

"Willow just get out here now," Spike demanded.  After a moments hesitation the bathroom door opened and Willow shuffled out.  The leather pants
were slightly too long for her and bunched around her ankles.  The silk shirt hung down loose, nearly to her knees - there was no mistaking that it
was Angel's shirt.

"They don't fit," she said sadly. Her hand was buried under the shirt and Spike guessed she was holding the waistband together.

"Well let me see," he started to pull the shirt up causing Willow to squeak and try to slap his hands away.

"Get your stupid hands off me!" she screeched at him backing away and slamming into the doorframe.  Her hands reached for the back of her head.
"Ouch."

Before she realised what was happening Spike had grabbed the shirt and tugged lightly, the buttons popped open and she felt his arms wrap around
her.

"Okay, shirts fixed," he stated tying a double knot in the ends just below her breasts.  His hands went to the button fly of the pants and delved into
the leather, his eyebrows shot up and he smirked as he realised she wasn't wearing any underwear.  Trying not to think about Willow sans
underwear he pulled the leather together and twisted the buttons through the eyelets.  Once the pants were done up he took a step back and looked
at her thoughtfully. "Squat."

"What?" she asked, still holding the back of her head while looking down at herself.  Spike had undone every single button on the shirt and then
wrapped it around her ribs twice before tying it so that her midriff was bare.  She had no idea what he meant by the command squat.

"Squat down, the leather will stretch a little," he looked at her confused eyes.  "You'll feel more comfortable."

"Oh," she said squatting down and wriggling a few times.  It did feel more comfortable.

"That's enough love, let's go," he grabbed her hand, led her to the office to pick up the laptop and dragged her out into the night.

***

Spike watched Willow's reflection in the mirrors that lined the walls of the club. It was great.  Her expression kept changing from disgust to awe to
intrigue.  They were in the Hellfire Club, a well-known bondage club - especially to the vampire and demon population of LA.  He didn't really know
why he wanted to come here, especially with Willow - probably just for the shock factor and he was certainly getting that.  Once they'd locked the
laptop in the boot of the Desoto they had walked half a block to the back entrance of the club.  Spike had merely vamped out and their admittance
was granted free of the cover charge paid by the human patrons.  Now, as Spike moved easily amongst the patrons, Willow was clinging to his arm.
One hand firmly clutched at his while the other was twisted in the sleeve of his duster, her whole body was pressed into his arm.  Spike checked out
her reflection again and smirked - should anything happen she was going to rip his arm off.

Happily Spike continued their tour of the lower level of the club.  Various acts were scattered about for the patrons' titillation and entertainment.
Most of the acts consisted of various dominatrix, both female and male, taunting slaves and using them for blatant sexual satisfaction in front of the
crowds.  Some of the more bizarre acts included a guy being wrapped in plastic, a small opening left for him to breathe, his genitals were exposed
and he was suspended from the ceiling - his mistress was moving him about by light chains attached to nipple rings.  There were women chained in
cages, men naked and collared like dogs, dominatrix wearing leather cat suits and masks - anything and everything of the bizarre world of torturous
sex could be found in the various acts scattered about the floor of the club.  Whips, candles and chains were a major theme in all the acts.

After an hour of wandering amongst the noise and the crowds Spike decided to move upstairs.  Willow still clung to his arm, although her earlier look
of sheer horror had long ago been replaced by fascination.  Again a small growl and show of his game face gained them access to the stairs and he
led her to the upper level.  It was quieter and softly lit with candles.  A small raised stage was set up in the middle of the room, it held an A frame
with a man chained to it - he was being whipped by a busty blonde - the rest of the room consisted of various sofas, love seats and chairs as well as
two pool tables and a bar.  Spike sat them down on a couch and the barman bought them complementary shots of tequila.  Sipping his drink Spike
scanned the room, there were only a few couples mostly involved in heavy petting while watching the performance on the stage.  A few of the clubs
girls hung around in the shadows, making him a silent offer with their eyes.  He shifted on the couch as he took in the merchandise the club had to
offer.

"So," squeaked Willow, finally releasing his hand.  "Do you come here often?"

"Nah, just a bit of entertainment." Spike finished his drink and started to search his pockets for cigarettes.  "Fancy it pet?"

"Oh, absolutely.  You know, I've always wanted to be tied up and beaten," she said sarcastically. "I hear it's a great way to relieve stress."

Spike lit up his cigarette taking a long drag as he watched her face.  It was flushed, her eyes were wide with wonder and her lips were moist from
the drink she was sipping.

"Would you?" asked a male voice from beside them.  Willow looked up in shock at a reasonably good-looking guy dressed in leather.  "We're here
for your pleasure."

Spike watched as her mouth moved but no words came out.  The guy was obviously one of the performers - Spike knew the routine, they
approached members of the audience and got them to play the games, be tied up and tortured to a pleasurable orgasm.  It was what the Hellfire was
known for.

"Well, pet?  Unless of course you are too scared," Spike grinned at Willow, who was still doing an imitation of a goldfish.  He turned his attention to
the performer. "I don't think the little girl is interested mate."

"Hold on, I can make up my own mind thank you," said Willow, she wasn't about to have Spike tell her what she should do.  "I'd love to...what do I
have to do?"

"Nothing at all, we will see that your needs are met," the young man held out his hand, a seductive smile spreading across his lips.  "My name's
Channon."

"Hi, I'm Willow," she took his hand as he pulled her up off the couch.  Smiling he led her toward the stage, explaining things as they went.  She was
told that foremost was her pleasure, that the frame and everything else were just props and that anytime she wanted to stop, whenever she felt
uncomfortable with what was going on she just had to say the safety word that they agreed on.

Spike watched as Willow moved away from him, idly wondering if Angel ever found out about this if he would follow through with his threat.  He
picked up Willow's abandoned drink and sipped it, rolling the taste around his mouth.  She had no idea what she had just agreed to, he knew she
wouldn't be able to handle anything major.  Catching Channon's attention he motioned for him to come to him.

"Yes?" he asked standing in front of Spike.  Willow watched from the side of the stage.

"Don't mark her.  No cuts, no bruising, no burns - just make her cum," Spike instructed.  Channon shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"Well that's not we're about..."

"Mark her and you die," Spike growled.  Channon nodded in silent understanding before going back to Willow.

Spike watched as Willow was led up to the frame.  Soft black silk scarves replaced the chains and Channon tied another scarf around her eyes as a
blindfold.  Leaning back against the couch Spike smiled as the silk shirt she wore was abandoned, she tried to cover her breasts with her hands
only to have Channon step in close and whisper to her.  Her arms were raised, caught by the scarves and her ankles were similarly tied leaving her
spread eagle.  Channon slowly began to massage her shoulders, calming away her fears, his hands soothingly stroking her back.  Once she was
relaxed he moved around to the front of her bound form and grabbed an ice cube to trace patterns on her naked breasts, teasing the nipples until
they were rock hard before moving the ice down to her stomach and naval.  He continued his slow torture until the ice had melted completely.

Willow's head was hanging low, her whole attention focused on what this man was doing to her.  His voice was soothing and seductive, telling her
how hot she was making him, how everyone in the room wanted her, how her boyfriend was getting turned on seeing her tied up.  Willow couldn't
even think rationally enough to set him straight about Spike.  She didn't really care.  Another ice cube replaced the other one, still teasing her
aching nipples and breasts.  She could feel a hand stroke her thigh, firmly working its way up until it was rubbing against the fork of her leather
pants.  Willow groaned low in her throat.  The constant murmur of Channon's voice, his hot breath against her neck and ear, and the delightful
pressure of his hand between her legs took her where Oz hadn't.  With a small moan she came, twisting her hands against her bonds and pushing
hard against Channon.  He continued to talk to her, letting her gather her wits.

"Do you want more Willow?" he asked her softly.

Suddenly Willow froze.  Panic hit her, she had just let an absolute stranger masturbate her to an orgasm, in front of other strangers...worse still in
front of Spike.

"No, NO!"  she started to pull hard against the scarves, trying to free herself.  She suddenly felt humiliated.  Any thoughts of a safety word
completely flew out of her head as blind panic hit her.  "Let me go, please!"

"Okay, Willow just calm down for me.  Can you do that?"  Channon wasn't too concerned, he'd seen people do this before.  It was actually a pretty
common reaction, especially from first timers.  He wasn't concerned until he saw Spike striding toward him. "Fuck."

"Let me go!" screamed Willow, hysteria creeping into her voice.

"Sshh, pet.  Stop struggling," Spike said as he started to release her wrists.  He had her shirt back on and tied just as Channon released her
ankles.  Willow yanked the blindfold off and glared at Spike before turning away and darting down the stairs.

Silently Spike swore to himself and followed her fleeing figure.  It was rather hard with the throbbing erection he had from watching her.  The
performance had been nothing, couldn't even be called bondage but it got her off and that was what she needed.  Unfortunately he hadn't realised the
effect it would have on him.

"Too long, too long," he chanted to himself as he worked his way through the crowds and willed his body to stop acting like some over sexed
schoolboy.

He found her sitting on the side of the bonnet of the Desoto, arms crossed and a pout on her lips.  She looked adorable.  There were no tears, which
he took as a good sign - he had expected to find her in a sobbing heap.  Smiling he sauntered over to her.  She glanced up and frowned.

"I don't believe I was so stupid to let you trick me into doing that," her voice was tinged with anger.  "I hate you."

"Come on, Willow.  Admit it, you loved every moment of it." Spike smirked at her, standing between her legs and placing a hand either side of her
arse on the cars bonnet.  "I can smell it from here."

"You're disgusting you know that?  Just because you're a vampire who gets off on that sort of thing doesn't mean that everyone else does!"  Willow
said in defence.  His legs were brushing against her inner thighs, making her flesh tremor.  Breaking eye contact she glanced down at her hands
only to be alarmed at how close they were to Spike's groin.  <If I flexed my fingers they'd be touching his...oh, oh, bad thought.> She moved her
hands to rest behind her as she inched away from Spike and his groin.  Pulling her legs up she stood up on the bonnet of his car, defiantly looking
down at him.  "But you are the only one who isn't having sex so I guess you'd get turned on by anything - probably came in your pants."

Smiling at her own wit, Willow turned and started to walk across the bonnet of the car.  She was shocked when she felt his hands grab her waist,
turning her and forcing her face down on the roof of the car.  Spike grabbed her hands, bringing them down and pressing them against the
windscreen he bent over her, resting his hips against her, his feet firmly planted between hers on the bonnet.

"I wasn't the one who came in my pants, pet.  I believe that was you." He practically purred in her ear.  Smiling he could hear her gasping for
breath.  "All that sweetness spread over leather - I'd love to taste that."

Keeping hold of her hands he dropped to his knees, her leather clad ass in front of his face.  He ran his nose and chin across one cheek and then
the other before lightly biting each buttock.  Closing his eyes he lost himself in the aroma of Willow and leather - he had never smelt anything so
sweet in his life.  Rubbing his cheek against her bottom, slowly working his way down until his face was buried between her thighs.  He let his teeth
drag along the leather, his tongue tracing a path along the seam; she quivered and moaned lightly.  Releasing her hands he gripped her thighs and
pulled her hips back from the windscreen so he could move further between her legs.  Any rational thought he may have been clinging to since they
left the club vanished.  He could smell her arousal, her juices from her earlier orgasm had permeated the leather, and he could taste her.

His fingers massaged her leather bound thighs as he tried to pull her closer.  His teeth were savagely dragging across the leather, opening his
mouth wide he took as much as he could and sucked against it, trying to drown in her taste.  Pushing his mouth against her in a steady rhythm one
of his hands moved to stroke her leather covered ass.

"Spike," Willow breathed, her mind shattering at the sensations he was creating.  Her chest and head were still resting on the roof of the car, her
hard nipples ached against the cool metal, and she bought her hands up to lay flat either side of her head.  She moved her hips against his mouth
wanting more.

Spike could taste her and it was driving him to distraction.  The leather was slick with his saliva and her juices.  Pulling her further back from the
windscreen he crawled from between her legs, mouthing his way up the leather pants until he touched hot flesh.  Finding her navel his tongue darted
out and circled it before licking it, delighting in the taste of her salty flesh.  He stood up, forcing her to stand also, swaying unsteadily on her feet.
One of his arms encircled her waist while the other hand found it's way under the shirt, his fingers brushing over her hard nipples and swollen
breasts.  As a moan left her lips he sat back on the roof and claimed her lips.

<He tastes like leather.> It was Willow's last thought as she surrendered to him, his mouth, his lips, and his tongue.  Grasping the back of his neck
she let her body fall onto his, lifting one leg to kneel on the roof she pushed her hips against his.  Feeling his throbbing erection she moaned into his
mouth and her other hand found the small of his back, pulling him to her.

Spike struggled with the buttons on her pants finally getting them open.  As his fingers delved into the combined heat of Willow and leather he
moaned at her wetness.  Breaking the kiss he pushed her away so he could grab the waist of her pants and pulled them down around her ankles.
Catching her eyes he saw a look of shock and lust.  He spun her around and forced her back onto the roof of the car and stepped between her
leather-shackled feet.  Claiming her mouth again he freed his cock and rubbed it against her slick slit.  He moaned as he felt her arms encircle his
waist while her legs wrapped around his thighs.  Breaking the kiss Willow looked at Spike, her eyes full of lust.

"Spike," she demanded rubbing against him.  "Fuck me."

Spike grinned; he knew an invitation when he heard one.  The word fuck hadn't even left her lips when he thrust deep into her, causing her to shriek.
He moaned and shuddered at the feel of her tight hot passage.  Clenching his jaw he slowly pulled back out before thrusting deep again.  One of his
arms circled her waist while the other supported part of his weight on the roof of the car.  Moaning, he thrust deep and rhythmically.  He could feel
her moving beneath him, her breath coming in pants, her body slick with perspiration.  His mouth wandered from her neck to her face to her mouth
as he continued to thrust.  He lost himself in the tight feel of her, her intoxicating smell and the sweet sounds that were coming from her mouth.
Once again he thought it had been too long as he felt his balls tighten, his body screaming for release.  Moving his hand down between them he
found her clit and twisted it - her reaction was immediate with her pelvis slamming into his, her head rolled back on the roof of the car and she
screamed his name.  The sound of his name on her lips drove him into his climax.  Burying his head in the crook of her neck he rocked gently
against her shuddering body, prolonging their pleasure.  Still buried deep within her, he listened to her laboured breath and enjoyed the feeling of her
arms and legs wrapped around him.

<Bloody hell,> rational thought returned to Spike, it was like hitting a brick wall.  <I just fucked the witch - I'm going to be staked!>  He moaned into
her neck and felt her muscles twitch around him.  <But it was worth it.>
*********

Title: The Games We Play - The Roof Of A Desoto, Conversation and The Morning After
Author: Anastasia ([email protected])
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own none, just borrowing them for my own twisted pleasure and public humiliation.
Feedback: If you want me to continue this it is kind of mandatory - if I don't get nagged I just don't write.  So please nag...in a nice, ego boosting
way.  Hey I have a very fragile ego - well that's what I tell everyone.
Notes: Okay this is the second story in a series I am doing called "The Games We Play".  Season Four is implied and shock horror I have bought
Oz back (just for a little while).  I have also bought back the Desoto.  This is a page of smut and then some angst, some hidden humour and just
silly writing in general.  Another piece of silly fiction written in the throngs of insomnia - so please forgive the incoherency of the piece.
 
Ta da!!!  Special Note this is to everyone who made my toes tingle - you know who you are!!  And for Saber and her "rah, rah, keep going"
 
AND HUGE MENTION TO OUR BELOVED CARRIE WHO IS BEING SO GENEROUS IN GIVING US MORE OF TAKE YOUR TIME!!  LOVE IT!!!
 
***
<Oh god, what have I done?> thought Willow.  Her legs were still wrapped awkwardly around Spikes jean clad thighs, her hands were buried
beneath his leather duster digging into his silk covered back and her naked ass was rocking against the cold metal roof of the Desoto.  She could
feel his arm cradling her back, his fingers brushing her side while his teeth were teasingly nipping at her neck as he continued to rock them in a
mimic of their previously hectic movents.  Actually desperate and horny movements would be a more suitable description.
 
Now here she was, still entwined about Spike, on the roof of the Desoto.  His free hand ran across the silk of her shirt and made quick work of
untying the knot to push the fabric back, exposing her breasts.  She moved beneath him, one of her thighs cramping.  <Oh wow he's still in me.
He's bigger than Oz...Oz...what have I done?> She stretched out her leg, running it down the length of his, the subtle movement eliciting another
groan against her neck while other parts of him began to respond as well.  A shiver ran through her as her muscles contracted around his swelling
shaft.  <This is wrong...> Gasping she felt his hand tickling her breast, an index finger brushing against the soft swell of flesh while his thumb
caressed her achingly hard nipple.  <Oh, that's nice. >  She arched her back, pushing against his hand, trying to gain more pressure as his lips
caressed her collarbone before dragging a path down to her free nipple. His tongue flicked the nipple and she bucked against his mouth, moaning.
<Oh my, how did he get so good at that?  Okay, I don't give a damn I'm going to do it again...I can feel guilty afterwards.> That was her last
coherent thought as her hands moved, one grabbed his ass while the other went to his shoulder.
 
His mouth continued its assault on her breast.  She tasted sweet and salty.  He could feel her moving beneath him, rocking her hips - she wanted
more and she wanted it now.  Spike pulled his mouth away from her breast and sought her mouth, capturing her lips.  She opened her mouth, her
tongue darting out to play with his, inviting him into her soft warm mouth.  His arms moved, pulling away from her to rest on the roof and he began to
lift up off her.  Her eyes flew open in fear as she felt him pull out of her, ripping her mouth away from his she cried out in disappointment.
 
"No, Spike please," she blushed at her own words - damn it she had decided she was going for another round, he was up for it and now he was
pulling out.
 
"Relax, Willow," he kissed her mouth once more before moving down her body, his eyes holding hers as she watched him.  He grinned wickedly
before his face dipped between her legs.
 
"Fuck," she hissed as she felt his cool tongue brush against her clit.  She closed her eyes, rolled her head back on the roof and concentrated on
what he was doing.  His hands were stroking her thighs in time with the strokes of his tongue and she bought her feet up to rest on his shoulders.
One of his hands moved to join his mouth and tongue and he slowly slid his thumb into her tight wet passage causing her to thrust against his
mouth while he rhythmically moved his thumb.  She whimpered in protest as she felt him pull it out only to moan as two fingers slid into her.  Blindly
she stared up at the dull night sky.  Listening she could hear sounds, breathing, soft moans, the soft wet sounds of Spike's mouth and fingers on
her.  One of her hands had found it's way down to caress his hair, the fingers lightly combing his bleached locks in time with the motion of his
mouth.  She moaned loudly as she felt his thumb thrust into her puckered anus, her fingers entwining in his short hair as she bit into her bottom lip
and arched her back off the roof.  He was driving her wild by alternately thrusting his fingers and then his thumb deep into her - his mouth steadily
sucking against her clit, the tongue teasingly flicking at it.  Clutching his head in her hands she came, her muscles spasmed, making it hard for him
to continue the movement, slowly bringing her back down. Her fingers gently stroked his hair as she lazily moved against him.  "Spike."
 
The next thing she knew he had pulled her up so she stood and spun her around and pushed her back down so she was once more lying face down
on the roof.  She was about to say something when she felt the tip of his cock slide slowly inside her.  Clenching her fists near her head she
wondered why he was going so slowly it was torturous.  Placing her hands flat on the roof she levered herself back onto him, moaning as he slid
deeper.  With a thud one of his hands landed beside hers on the roof, his other grabbing her waist, lifting her up and stilling their movements.
 
"Willow," it almost sounded like a prayer.  He let his tongue trace her backbone through the silk of her shirt before biting the back of her neck.  He
moved his hand from her waist back to her ass and kneaded it as he slowly pulled back and started to thrust into the writhing redhead.  She moved
with him, taking her weight on her hands, thrusting back against him, delighting in the sensation of his cock sliding in and out.  He pulled his other
hand back to her hip, giving her ass a final squeeze he grabbed her hips and began to thrust hard and deep into, grunting and hissing at the
tightness of her.  He felt her shudder beneath him, collapsing onto the roof as she came again with a cry of his name.  Releasing her hips he
clutched at one of her hands while his arm encircled her waist, pulling her hard against him. With a final deep thrust he came, collapsing on top of
her burying his face in the crook of her neck. Again he practically whispered her name as he lay on top of her listening to her ragged breathing and
pounding heart beat.  "Willow."
 
He kissed the back of her neck and traced a line to her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth before placing a soft kiss on her temple.  His gaze
fell on their hands, his was covering hers but their fingers were locked together - to him it just looked right.  Willow thought the same thing.  She
moaned lightly as he released her hand, stood up and pulled out of her.  She closed her eyes for a moment listening to the sound of her own
breathing only to feel his hands massaging her ass before running down the length of her legs and pulling the leather pants up from around her
ankles.  She stood up and leant back against him as his nimble fingers did up the button fly, his lips brushing against her neck.  Silently she worked
on doing up the buttons of her shirt and moved away from him to sit on the side of the bonnet once her trousers were done up.
 
Spike moved and sat beside her, watching as she fixed the last of the buttons on the shirt then silently twisted her fingers in the silk.
 
"You know this is just bad...the whole thing is bad," she finally said.
 
"Well, I thought it was..." Spike began.  He couldn't understand what she was saying; they'd both enjoyed themselves.
 
"Oh no not that. That was good, in fact that was fantastic, it was what you expect, fireworks type of thing."
 
"Then what's bad?" Spike curiously asked.
 
"Me," she spoke quietly, looking straight ahead.
 
"You're not love," Spike couldn't help but chuckle, there was nothing, especially now, that he could ever fault Willow on.
 
"Yes I am.  Look at me! I just had..." she gestured wildly toward the roof of the Desoto with her hands, frowning.  Spike stopped the smirk he could
feel forming at her inability to say 'sex' and watched her. "With you, which could be considered bad.  I mean...Oz, Oz and me, we're together.  So
doing that with you is just bad." She nodded her head in total agreement with herself and tore her eyes away from Spike's cool blue gaze before
starting to do the only thing possible.  Pacing and venting - her hands gesturing wildly.  "But you know, it isn't my fault.  I didn't ask to come to LA,
you were the one that spilt blood on me and dragged me to that stupid club.  I would never have even considered coming here and certainly not
having that guy do what he did which made me all...well it doesn't matter what it made me feel because it was bad!"
 
She stopped and practically spat the word 'bad' in his face, hers marred by a worried frown.
 
"Willow," he began only to have her return to her pacing, ignoring him completely.  He shook his head in amazement, at this point in time he could
only think of finding some place with a huge bed and dragging her with him for a sleep before getting to know her a lot better in the carnal sense, and
she was pacing.  He didn't know where she found the energy.
 
"And if I didn't feel that way I would never have done what I did with you..." again she stopped in front of him, glancing up at the roof of the car before
returning to his face.  "Twice no less!" A note of hysteria had crept into her voice.  Pausing in her rant she took in his face, her frown melting into a
lustful sappy look.  "And if you didn't do that thing with your tongue and...and...and your fingers..." he gave half a smile as her breathing quickened
and her hands reached out towards him.   "And your mouth and..." she stopped pulled her hands back and shook her head.  "I'm just getting
completely off topic here."
 
"Well," Spike began to say, thinking of suggesting his previous idea of finding a bed.
 
"You know it's all Oz's fault," she said, surprising Spike.  "I'd gotten over him - well not really you never forget your first love - but I had accepted
what happened. I even kind of understood. Not that I'm saying it was right or anything but I was beginning to move on, put him behind me and then
he just shows up.  Expects us to pick up a few days before he did that...that...bitch - like it never happened.  Well it did happen and then he just
leaves.  Nothing, no notes except wanting his stuff, no phone calls - even Buffy gets calls from Angel - but no, I get nothing!  Then one day he just
shows up and says 'Hey babe, sorry, love you' and expects that to make it all better."
 
She stopped in front of him again with a look of expectation.  <Say something you bloody git.> he thought.  "Well..."
 
"But it doesn't." she stated angrily, resuming her pacing.  "Then everyone's 'Oh Will we're so happy for you - you two belong together'. Is that
because we cheat on each other?  Kind of like tic for tac?  That's wrong, that's bad.  See - it all comes back to being bad.  I mean, what does he
expect?  He comes back and just wants everything to be all hunky dory. He acts like nothing happened, like he never left or even had 'relations' with
that vapid whore.  You know every time we...well, when we...erm...have..."
 
She looked at him pleadingly.  Raising an eyebrow he put forward the word she couldn't bring herself to say.  "Sex"
 
"Yes, I can't help but think of them together.  It use to be different, use to be good.  Now its just..." she struggled for a moment, trying to think of a
word to describe the emptiness of her relationship with Oz.
 
"Unsatisfying," Spike offered.  She had stopped pacing and stood in front of him, her head low, examining her hands like it was the first time she
had really seen them.
 
"Why is that?" she asked in a low voice, still blindly staring at her hands.
 
"Well..." Spike began, not having the faintest idea what to say.
 
"I mean nothings different really.  He says he loves me...actually he says he loves me more than he ever did before.  But it's different, you know...it's
empty." Her voice was low and hoarse.  As she bought her head up Spike could see the pain and turmoil in her eyes, something she had hidden so
well for the past month.  "He doesn't mean it, it's just something he says to make him feel better.  Lets him justify everything he's done..."
 
"Come here," Spike pulled her into his arms, his hand cradling the back of her head.  Breathing in the smell of her hair he felt her arms wrap around
his waist under the duster.
 
"He's going to leave again, isn't he?" she spoke softly, her voice full of anguish, like she was resigned to the idea.  He considered the question
carefully.  Oz would leave, he was sure of that, but what do you tell a young girl who had already been hurt and abandoned?  He knew what the
slayer and her friends would do - they'd disagree and say that he would never think of leaving her, that he loved her dearly and that he would stay
with her.  Lies to offer comfort and lull her into a false sense of security.
 
"Yeah." He stated calmly.
 
"I wish he'd never come back," she said quietly into the crook of his neck.  "It would have been easier if he hadn't."
 
For some reason, although they were packed with misery and pain, those words sounded like music to Spike's ears.  She didn't want the wolf, she
was unhappy with him and she was seeking comfort.  Spike grinned, he loved being her comfort, he would comfort her until she forgot who made her
so miserable, until she could think of no one but him, until she died.  They stayed locked in each other's arms for ages.
 
"Come on pet, we'd better get back so I can have my ass staked," he stated quietly.
 
"What?"
 
"I'm thinking Slayer won't be taking kindly to our little..."
 
"Don't be stupid," Willow pulled away from his embrace.  "It never happened."
 
"What?"  He couldn't believe it.  Anger welled up in him, how dare she just try and brush him aside - what for?  The bloody idiot wolf who was going
to fuck off and leave her anyway.
 
"Think about it Spike.  What would happen if everyone found out? How long do you think you'd last?  Buffy would kill you and Oz...well. Just think
about it." She knew it would be best, she didn't want him staked - which she knew Buffy would do if she ever found out.  Anyway, what possibility
did they have of making it work? What was she thinking - she was in a relationship with Oz and he loved her...didn't he? "It's best that we just forget
about it.  Okay?  Please Spike."
 
"Fine.  Whatever you want pet." Spike slid off the bonnet and walked over to the drivers' door to get in.  Lighting up a cigarette he looked at her over
the bonnet of the car.  She was smart and she was right, it would cause a lot of trouble for both of them - hell he would probably never see another
night if the slayer found out.  He hated it and slammed the door shut to sit sulking behind the wheel.  Had things been different he'd just drag her off,
mark her and never give her a moment to even think about someone else...what the hell was he thinking?  If things were different he wouldn't have
had her.  Actually yes he would - he would have sired her that night in the dorm room and never let her out of his sight...<Shit.>
 
Willow stood for a moment, looking at his shadowy form through the window.  <What have I done?> Sighing in resignation she got into the
passenger seat, it wouldn't work, no matter what happened, it wouldn't work.  For starters he was a vampire, okay sure she was dating a werewolf
and the transition from werewolf to vampire wasn't that big a step - but no, it wouldn't work.  Look at Angel and Buffy, of course that was different,
Angel had a soul and Buffy was the slayer.  Okay so that was totally different to her and Spike but it still wouldn't work...would it?
 
No, what they had done was wrong.  It could never happen again.  Definitely not.  No matter what.  It was one of those weird things that happen -
you know two people thrown together, one extremely horny the other unsatisfied...it was bound to happen.  It had and that was it - no more.  No
matter how good it was, or how right it felt, or how talented he was...especially with his tongue...
 
"Shit," muttered Willow.
 
***
 
Spike watched her in the mirror.  It would have been better if he watched her less and concentrated more on his driving but at 2am in the morning the
roads were pretty empty - except for a few semi-trailers.  They had just reached the edge of LA when he heard her swear softly, he'd seen the
turmoil she had been working through.  She would never be any good at lying her face was too expressive.  Now she was desperately fighting sleep,
every few moments her eyes would flutter shut until her head fell forward then she'd wake up with a start.  Spike let out a frustrated sigh.
 
"Come here love," he stretched his arm across the back of the seats, his fingers curling around the far side of her neck a gentle pressure pulling her
toward him.  She tensed under his touch, unsure of what to do.  "I won't bite - you bloody well know that."
 
Too tired to care anymore Willow scooted over, laying her head against his shoulder.  "Don't go to sleep."
 
"What?" Spike wasn't sure if he heard her right.
 
"Don't go to sleep and crash the car.  I don't want to die just yet," Willow murmured against his shoulder, snuggling as his arm wrapped around her.
 
"Don't worry, pet.  I want you alive for a while yet," he said, stroking her hair until he was sure she was asleep.  He kept driving until he was about
half an hour out of Sunnydale and pulled the car off to the shoulder of the road.  Shifting slightly he let her head fall from his shoulder to his lap.
Holding his proverbial breath she stirred and wrapped an arm around his leg before throwing her other arm across his lap.  "Maybe that wasn't such a
great idea."
 
He waited, making sure she was still asleep, before lighting a cigarette and leaning back in the seat to think.  His hand strayed down to stroke her
hair.  What the hell had he done?  Screwed the little witch, taken her with no regard at all, something she didn't deserve.  He wanted to treat her like
the goddess she was.  He wanted her, completely and utterly - in a way that the wolf couldn't and that no one would understand.  But no, she was
going back to the wolf because it was expected.  Although she had voiced her thoughts, Spike really didn't think she'd realised what she was saying
- it was empty, unsatisfying, nothing more than a ridiculous façade of a relationship.  She was miserable and all he wanted to do was make her
happy, which he couldn't do in Sunnydale because the slayer would stake his ass.  Sunnydale, his own personal hell in which Willow was his only
grace.  For the briefest of moments he considered turning the Desoto around and pissing off where no one could find them.  Just a fleeting thought
that couldn't really be entertained.  Nope, he was stuck in Sunnyhell as long as he was defanged.
 
Pouting he considered his options for a moment, idly wondering if he could kill the wolf during his cycle.  He didn't like the idea of trying it out - he'd
rather be staked by the slayer than end up being dinner for a werewolf.  Damned if he did, damned if he didn't.  Willow was unhappy and he could
make her forget that, it was all he cared about at the moment.  If that meant keeping quiet about LA, fine. But there was no way in hell he was going
to forget about it, or let her forget about it.  He was sure of one thing - she was his.
 
Flicking the cigarette butt out the window he drove off, his hand still on the sleeping girls head.
 
***
 
"Where have you been?" hissed Giles as he opened the door.  Spike frowned as he carried the still sleeping Willow passed the watcher and headed
for the stairs.  "Angel rang hours ago, he's been worried sick about you two."
 
"I doubt that mate," Spike turned at the bottom of the stairs.  "Call the great poof and put him out of his misery.  Actually stake him - that'd work
better."
 
"What happened?  Angel was frantic, something about finding Willow's clothes covered in blood," Giles whispered letting his eyes roam over
Willow's sleeping form for any injuries.
 
"If the bloody git had used his head he'd know it was pigs blood!" Spike hissed at the watcher.  "Now if you don't mind..."
 
"Where are you going?" Giles asked
 
"Putting sleeping beauty here to bed."
 
"What my bed?  Where am I going to sleep?"
 
"You can have the couch...unless you want the bath," Spike said as he walked up the stairs.  "Ring peaches."
 
Spike made his way upstairs, he could clearly hear Giles on the phone, he'd forgotten all about the damn clothes.  Laying Willow down on the bed
he removed her shoes and the leather pants, leaving her in the silk shirt.  He covered her with the quilt and sat on the edge of the bed watching her
sleep.  He left her some ten minutes later when he heard Giles hang up.
 
"I take it you do have the laptop?" asked Giles as Spike moved back down the stairs.
 
"Yeah, it's in the trunk," Spike tossed him the keys.  "So you been waiting long?"
 
"Since Angel rang, a little past 11," Giles glanced at his watch.  "It's now 4.30, I'm sure you can do the math, as the children are so fond of saying."
 
"Mmm..." Spike moved into the kitchen and went about making his dinner.
 
"So what did you do from 11 until now?" Giles asked, sounding very much like a scolding parent.
 
"Oh, the usual.  Dressed Willow in leather, took her to an S&M club, got her all horny then shagged her senseless on top of the Desoto," Spike said
and took a sip of his blood.
 
"Really Spike, your flippant attitude can be most annoying at times." Said Giles as he headed for the door to retrieve the computer.
 
"Yeah, night mate." Spike turned and headed to the bathroom.  He waited until Giles came back in and fell asleep on the couch before moving
silently through the apartment to Willow, clad only in his jeans.  Lifting the quilt he crawled in next to her, sighing as she stirred and wrapped her
arms about him.  He kissed her forehead lightly.  "Night Willow."
 
"Night Spike," she mumbled as she threw a leg over his.
 
***
 
Voices.  That's what Willow could hear, somewhere in the distance, through the fog of sleep.  Voices.  Distinctive voices.  She sighed and rubbed
her cheek against the cool muscular chest she was sleeping on.
 
"She's sleeping at the moment," she heard Giles voice.
 
"Cool, so can we listen to your records while I wait?" Oz asked.
 
Willow's eyes flew open.  Oz.  She pushed herself up off Spike's naked chest.  Her eyes widened even more.  She was in bed with a naked Spike.
 
"Oh God!" she exclaimed.
 
"Morning pet," Spike smirked.