CoF - Laure Alexander - TEAOW&S - The End: The Decision

Summary: Willow comes to a decision that sends Spike around the bend. This chapter has a rather nasty sex scene in it.

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Willow/Spike
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
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After nearly ten hours straight of driving on back roads, Willow pulled the car into the parking lot of a motel on the edge of a dusty town in the southwestern part of Utah. While Spike dozed beneath a blanket in the back seat, she got them a room and headed to the Dairy Queen down the street for some much needed food and coffee.

On her return, slightly caffeinated and stuffed full of cheeseburger and fries, she found Spike awake and sitting up, the blanket over his head. Carefully she opened the door.

"I got us a room. It's two doors down. I'll go unlock it and then you make a dash for it, okay?"

"Where are we?" Spike asked, sinking onto the end of the bed, there being no chairs.

Willow shrugged and fumbled with the air-conditioning. The room was incredibly stuffy. "Somewhere in Utah." She glanced over at Spike and hesitantly asked, "Are we far enough from Sunnydale for you to hunt?"

"Don't want to risk it till we're another state away. Is this town big enough to have a butcher or a large grocery?"

"If they give you a look or question you, tell them you're making blood pudding."

Spike chuckled and rose to tug her into his arms for a quick kiss. "Yep. And the excuse works like a charm. I've used it myself a hundred times."

Playfully he swatted her on the bottom and sent her on her way, before settling back on the lumpy bed to light his second to last cigarette. They really couldn't afford the luxury of his smoking habit, so he strived to savor the tangy, smoky taste and hit of nicotine.

Willow sat quietly and watched Spike drink the cold pig's blood, trying not to think about the fact that they were down to their last twenty dollars. She knew Spike had millions, but he didn't dare try to access any of his accounts. She had thought of having Giles wire them some money, but was too afraid that Angel had tapped the lines or would find out.

During the long, quiet day of driving, her mind had gone over and over the past and the future, trying to figure a way out of this mess. The initial exhilaration of escaping, the brave hope that had filled her that they would be able to stay free, had gradually faded, leaving her depressed.

Willow shook herself from her funk and tried to smile. "Just tired from driving. Did that help?" She gestured to the empty container.

"It'll do. Tomorrow try to find us some place with woods or even ranches. I can snag something fresh to eat."

"I know," she replied hollowly, trying not to think of her boyfriend eating Bambi.

Spike frowned and dumped the container in the trash can, then headed for the bathroom, feeling her sad eyes on him. He knew she was beginning to wonder if they had a future, but he was determined to keep her free and safe, no matter what he had to do.

She'd just have to learn to accept that not everything he had to do would be nice.

Turning on the tap, he rinsed his mouth with tepid water, then returned to the bedroom, shrugging out of his duster and reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

Willow watched him undress, and a shiver of desire went through her as his pale body was uncovered, his muscles tight with tension, his cock hard and straining against his stomach.

They made love in quiet desperation, their bodies moving quickly together, as if to stave off the future. The bed in the dingy motel room creaked loudly as Spike turned Willow to her knees. Grasping the bars of the headboard, Willow watched the paint come off beneath her fingers.

Even as her body clenched in pleasure and low moans broke from her, she wondered if her life was flaking away like paint on old iron.

In the aftermath they lay separate on the bed, silent within their own thoughts. Spike sat up and reached for his cigarettes, then leaned back against the headboard and lit the last one. After a few minutes, Willow rose and wandered over to the window. Pulling back a corner of the faded curtain, she peeked out into the late afternoon, watching the sun set.

"...We have to go back," Willow murmured, dropping the curtain on what she knew in her heart would be her final sunset. They would be back in Sunnydale by tomorrow afternoon.

Spike sat up sharply and stared at her as she turned to face him. "Not on your life--and I mean that literally, Willow."

"Fuck that." Stabbing out his cigarette, Spike jumped out of the bed and reached for her. Willow avoided him and crossed the room to the pile of clothes he'd efficiently stripped from her and the bag containing a few other articles of clothing, a hairbrush and some generic deodorant.

"He explained it to me, that if he lets me renege, he'll lose face. If he loses face, he might lose control of Sunnydale. I can't be the reason the world falls into hell."

Willow pulled on underwear and a pair of frayed jeans. "It's possible." As she reached for a shirt, she turned to look at him. There was panic on his expressive face, but he made no move to stop her. "If Angel loses control of the clan, who's next in line."

She nodded and continued. "And they all know you have no desire to rule, and your love for me, even though we're bound, makes you undesirable and potentially unreliable as a leader in their eyes. Next is Dru, but she can't hold them. Then who?"

"...Harold, the Master's remaining childe," Spike finally answered through clenched teeth. "He rules half of Germany with an iron hand."

"And open the Hellmouth," she continued, sitting down to put on her shoes. "I can't, I won't be the cause of that."

Willow rose and walked over to him. He flinched from her touch, but she persisted, brushing her fingertips over his pale chest. The scars were still there. You had to know where to look, but they were there, white circles on his skin. "I gave him my word, William, and he saved you."

"He should have done that anyway," Spike bit out, still bitter that his sire had been willing to let him die nine months earlier.

"Yeah, but he didn't, and I made the deal. I offered myself to him without a fight."

"This isn't a court of law, my love," she replied sadly to his impassioned protest. "I have to live with my choices, and I've always kept my word."

Spike grabbed her upper arms, yelling, "You want to keep your word to die? That's insane!"

Tears filled her eyes and she tried to blink them away, but they spilled silently down her cheeks as she watched the desperation tighten his lips and cheeks and darken his eyes. Her hands rose to rest over his where they clutched her arms, bruising her tender skin through the thin shirt, and she leaned forward and brushed her lips over his still heart. "I'm sorry."

Terror nearly choked him and Spike staggered back, pulling her tightly against him as his own tears fell on the top of her bent head. "No," he moaned. "Please, no, Willow..."

"I have to," she whispered, pressing her hot, tear-streaked cheek to his chest. "I've always known I would have to. This escape, the belief that we could stay free of him...it's just been an illusion. He'll find us, and he'll...our punishment will be so much worse the longer we evade him. We have to go back."

A shudder went through him and he shoved her away from him. Willow gave him a startled look, then her eyes widened at the cold determination in his expression.

"You wouldn't be my Willow if you didn't try to follow your conscience," he murmured, "and I wouldn't be the demon I am if I let you."

Willow awoke in degrees. She was cold. Her jaw ached and her temples throbbed with growing pain as consciousness returned. She tried to move her hand to her head, but something tugged at her wrist, cutting into her skin. Whimpering, she forced her eyes to open and blinked into the dimly lit room.

Shivering at the chill in the air, she struggled into a sitting position and turned her aching head towards her unmoving hand.

A handcuff was attached from her right wrist to a thick pipe embedded in a concrete wall. Experimentally she tugged at it, and quickly realized it wasn't going to move. Putting her back to the wall, she swallowed hard and peered into the darkness.

He came out of the darkness slowly, his movements precise and silent, and for the first time in nearly a year she saw in him the predator he really was.

She shivered again, and she wasn't sure if it was from cold or fear or a combination of the two.

Stopping a few feet from her, Spike dropped into a casual crouch and looked at her trembling and tugging on the handcuff. He took a final pull on the nearly empty whisky bottle in his hand, then tossed it aside where it shattered against the floor.

"I won't let you leave me," he muttered. "If he turns you, I lose you, and I won't let that happen. I can't let that happen. If I lose you, I lose everything." As he spoke his hands pulled off her shoes, then circled her ankles. Sliding his hands slowly up her jean clad legs, when he reached her hips, he settled on his knees over her. "I need your humanity, your soul. I won't let him take that from me."

With a tug, he pulled her down, only his fast reflexes catching her head and preventing it from cracking against the cold concrete floor. As her chained hand stretched tightly above her, she watched him turn his attention to her chest. His hand slid from beneath her head and he began to unbutton her shirt.

"Mine, my heart, my soul, all mine. He's taken everything from me, my life, my blood, my body, my pride, he won't have you," he ground out, tugging the shirt away from her breasts. Gazing down at them dispassionately, he moved to her jeans and quickly pulled them and her panties off her squirming legs.

Willow flushed, flustered and confused, as he continued to mumble, so low she couldn't understand most of what he was saying. His eyes on her remained empty. Not even desire lightened them, and that bothered her. She squirmed again and he gripped her hips, stilling her. Freezing, she watched as he slid his hands down to her knees, then pulled her legs up from between his and spread them around his hips.

Her womb clenched, but it wasn't from desire. Something primal was growing in Spike's expression and causing a similar reaction in her. As his hands unfastened and tugged down his jeans, she felt herself grow damp with sudden need.

Wrapping his hand around the base of his erect cock, Spike blanketed her body with his and thrust strongly into her. Her welcoming heat drove all thought from his mind and he growled, flattening both hands on the floor on either side of her head. He could feel her moving beneath him, arching to him and he closed his eyes, thrusting mindlessly, pounding her into the hard floor.

Willow winced at the pain as her back and hips hit the concrete with each drive of his cock into her, but her knees pressed to his sides and she moved with him, her hunger in control. Her eyes remained open and on him, watching his face for any sign of emotion.

There was nothing. His eyes remained closed against her and only the slight flaring of his nostrils and the hard cock inside her conveyed that he felt anything.

As her body grew hotter and wetter, Willow gasped softly for breath and raised her free hand to his face.

Spike flinched from her fingertips and his eyes flew open. "Don't," he growled, lifting himself farther away from her. "Don't. Touch. Me." Reaching his knees, he slid his hands beneath her hips and continued to pump into her as tears filled her eyes.

Willow's hand fell across her heaving breasts and she whimpered at the hardness of her nipples.

As she felt her clitoris swell and harden against the persistent brushing of his cock, she whimpered and arched to him, her inner muscles beginning to squeeze around him. Spike clenched his teeth and hissed, his fingers digging into her soft bottom. His orgasm approaching on a rush of heat, he came back to himself just a bit, and looked down into Willow's watery eyes.

A flutter of compassion and love pushed against the desperate need driving him, but he was past the point of stopping. Despair filled him and he flung his head back and howled, then buried his face against her breast bone as his release pumped from him in angry bursts.

Willow lay still beneath him, her body trembling with need and her chest aching with her own buried cries. Her hand gently stroked his head, her fingers twining in his hair, as his cold tears melted into her heated skin.

"I'm sorry," he pled over and over, hitching sobs of pain and loss and fear reverberating through them both.

"It's okay, Will," she murmured, continuing to stroke him in comfort, her own tears burning her tightly closed eyes.

Finally, Spike rose from her, turning his back to fasten his jeans. Hunched over, he stumbled into the darkness and found a corner to retch in. Alcohol and blood vomited from him as self- loathing filled him. As the heaves slowed, he curled into a ball, shuddering in reaction and trying desperately not to listen to the sounds of Willow weeping.

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

Laure Alexander - lara@sunflower.com

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