CoF - Laure Alexander - TEAOW&S

Summary: While Spike and Willow deal with their fears in their own way, Angel comforts Buffy and Drusilla and the moon create the impetus he needs.

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: NC-17, BDSM.
PAIRINGS: Spike/Willow, Buffy/Angelus
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.
DEDICATION:To Margot for giving me a glimpse of the future and supporting my writing and loving Buffy and Angel.
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Over his wine glass, Spike stared at Willow as she managed to both eat spaghetti and not talk with her mouth full, yet spill a wild tale as they sat in the sparsely furnished dining room of his apartment.

"And the new Slayer didn't try to stake you both?" Spike asked, then took a sip of his wine, disturbed to find his hand trembling.

Willow shook her head and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "I don't think so. She seems very open."

Spike nearly choked on his wine as Willow filled him in on Buffy's weakness and the trial.

"He's furious about the whole thing," Willow confirmed. "I think Dru's right. He really does love Buffy."

"And he'd rather slit his own throat than admit it," Spike mused, pouring himself another glass of Cabernet. "Or take it out on all of us."

Willow winced at the pain on her lover's face. She had purposefully avoided talking of the other events of the early morning, had tried not to think about what had nearly happened between her and Angel. It was so much easier that way.

"He didn't hurt me, Spike," she murmured, setting aside her fork as her appetite fled.

"No, I don't think so." Willow took a deep breath before continuing. "I think he wants me to enjoy it."

"He still wants you, Willow, and I can barely stand that," her lover growled. Pushing his chair away from the table, he rose and paced. "I hate that. I hate that he has the right to you, and I don't have a clue what stopped him this morning."

He shook his head scornfully. "He may love her, but in his denial he'll do anything to push her away."

"I don't think so any more, Spike. I think this morning may have been the turning point. He may have finally realized just how far he can push things before Buffy will leave him. As long as I stay out of his way, I don't think he'll pursue me."

"I've been thinking about it a lot recently. I'm eighteen, an adult now, probably just about as physically mature as I'm going to get. There's nothing stopping him, except I think he knows that Buffy will leave him. But, there's no guarantee that Buffy will survive tomorrow night or next week."

"If she dies, he'll come for you in the next heartbeat," Spike whispered sadly, then slowly shook himself. "I can't go against him like that, luv. He wants you as his own childe. I don't dare take that from him. He might very well kill us both. Plus..." His voice died away and he sank down into the chair across from her.

Willow reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't want me to become a vampire."

"To you," he interrupted. "Yes, I love you and because of you, I feel varying levels of friendship towards those you love, but I couldn't give a rat's ass for every other human in the world. That beauty inside you that delights in the beat of a butterfly's wings, the coo of a dove, the sun breaking through rain filled clouds...All that would be gone. There's no guarantee that you would love me, but, even if you did, your demon would be young and hungry for evil. Mine has been tempered by two hundred years of living amongst humans."

Willow nodded sadly. "I don't want to be turned, but I thought...If I could be yours rather than his..."

"Spike? Promise me one thing." When he nodded, she continued, her voice full of sorrow and fear. "Don't let me kill my family and friends."

Nodding again, this time in understanding, Willow sighed softly. "This could be my last night alive."

Spike's eyes filled with determination. "And I, for one, don't want to dwell on that anymore. I want to spend several hours worshiping you with my mouth and hands."

Buffy slowly awakened from her nap and blinked open her eyes. Yelping, she sat up and nearly rolled off the bed. "Don't do that!"

Angel cocked one eyebrow and rose from her desk chair to sit next to her on the bed. "Do what?"

"Be here," she replied, a bit groggy. Rubbing her temples, she leaned back against the headboard. "What *are* you doing here?"

"Why wouldn't I be here?" Angel shrugged his black silk clad shoulders and flashed her a wicked grin. "You look so cute all sleepy, even when you drool."

"If you say so, lover. So, what do you have planned for tonight?" he asked conversationally.

Angel's grin turned immediately into a foreboding frown. "I don't think so. In your weakened condition, you couldn't hurt a fruit fly."

Buffy started to argue, then just sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. "Great, that just gives the Council another reason to want me dead." Angel growled, but she ignored him and rose to her feet. "I'll be back in a minute."

After using the restroom and brushing her hair and teeth, Buffy headed downstairs. She found her mom sitting on the couch staring blankly at a sitcom on the television. A barely touched pizza sat in its box on the coffee table.

Joyce looked up, startled, then tried to smile. "Good evening, sleepy head. I ordered pizza."

"Yeah, I know." Picking up a plate, Buffy put a couple pieces of supreme pizza on it. "I've got a lot of thinking to do, too, so I think I'll eat upstairs. That okay?"

"Oh, sure." As Buffy turned to the stairs, Joyce continued, "Buffy? I'd like to talk to Mr. Giles tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll arrange it." Taking the stairs two at a time, Buffy returned to her room.

Willow squirmed in pleasure, sinking deeper into the soft bedding, as Spike trailed his cool tongue down her spine. When he placed a soft kiss at the sensitive base, she squealed and arched against his mouth.

Twenty minutes before, he had slowly removed her clothing and urged her onto her stomach. Since then he had been torturing her with his mouth and hands, kissing and touching her entire back from nape to toes.

The scent of her arousal was driving him crazy, and Spike ran kisses over her quivering bottom as his hands parted her thighs. Settling between them, he lifted her slightly and darted his tongue into the wet heat of her cleft.

"Spike," Willow wailed into the pillow she clutched. Inarticulate moans poured from her as his tongue thrust inside her. As one hand curved her towards his mouth, the other brushed through the wet curls and found her swollen clitoris. Spike caressed it gently, feeling the shudders going through her and tasting her desire.

His hands parting her plump bottom, Spike slid his tongue up to her puckered rosette. He circled it once, twice, and as Willow's heart pounded in his ears, he pushed inside.

The sound muffled by cotton and feathers, Willow screamed and shattered into orgasm.

As she collapsed limply beneath him, Spike rose to his knees and reached for the bottle of lube on the night stand.

Angel lounged on Buffy's bed, flipping through a copy of Vogue. He glanced up at her, then nodded approvingly to the plate of food. "Eat all that and I'll give you a present."

"A present?" Buffy asked skeptically. "And what kind of present would that be?" She closed and locked the door behind her, then settled cross legged on the end of the bed.

"I'd say that's quite the magnanimous gesture after the abominable way you treated me this morning, " he continued.

Turning the magazine around, Angel pointed to a skimpy thong swimsuit on a stick figure model. "Want me to get you one of these?"

"Ha ha. She's an unattractive beanpole. No, I meant the sexy swimsuit. I'm having a pool dug this Spring."

"Have you ever tried to wear one of those things for long? They totally ride up your butt."

"Nice image." Tearing the page from the magazine, he folded it and put it in his back pocket, then went back to browsing as she ate.

Spike rolled Willow onto her back and smiled down into her flushed face and glazed eyes. "More?"

Kneeling between her spread legs, he poured lube into the palm of one hand, then liberally coated his erection. Catching her behind the knees, he pushed her legs up so that her heels rested on his shoulders. As she whimpered his name, he pressed one slick finger into her tight passage. The muscles snapped around it, but he quickly loosened her up before adding a second finger.

"Please," she drew out the word, her eyes falling shut and her head arching into the pillow as pleasure shot through her.

Slowly Spike withdrew his fingers, only to replace them with the head of his cock. Taking a hold of her ankles, he gradually pushed past the resistance, filling her as she moaned and stuttered his name over and over.

Her toes clenched against his cheeks and he turned his head, brushing his mouth over her instep.

Willow howled and dug her fingers into the comforter beneath her. "Please, please, please!"

Spike began to thrust, gently at first, then harder as she rose to meet him, her body shaking and flushed red with lust. Angling over her, he propped himself up on one hand, using the other to find her clit and run his thumb back and forth across it. A long hiss broke from her and she arched towards his hand, driving his cock deeper.

Groaning as her inner muscles clenched and pulled on his throbbing cock, Spike thrust faster, his thumb slipping around the sensitive hood of her clit, as his fingers drove into her dripping passage.

Feeling him filling both parts of her body, Willow gave a strangled cry and bucked wildly, arching her entire back off the bed. As he watched the pleasure flow across her features, Spike growled and surrendered his control, pumping madly as he climaxed.

His orgasm triggered her second and Willow writhed and moaned beneath him as release snapped through her.

Slowly Spike rolled onto his back, tugging her with him. As she pillowed her head on his shoulder, he said with a smile, "When you've recovered, I have dessert waiting."

After finishing the second slice of pizza, Buffy drained a bottle of water, then set the plate and plastic bottle on her dresser. Rising to her feet, she stretched, then pulled her t-shirt over her head.

Angel arched a brow and dropped the magazine on the floor. "So, we're going to ignore this morning?"

A wave of irritation rolled through her and Buffy frowned. "Do you *really* want to talk about it?"

"No, but you usually want to hammer everything to dust, so I've just been waiting..." He frowned, but his eyes gleamed with appreciation as she skimmed the jogging pants down her legs. At the sight of her in a pair of simple white bikinis and matching sports bra, his cock leapt to attention, pressing painfully against his zipper. "C'mere."

Grinning at the power she had over him, even if it was only in this small arena, Buffy whipped the bra over her head and put one knee on the bed. Angel grabbed her arms and flung her beneath him, his knee sliding between hers, parting them.

"Impatient," she murmured, then moaned softly as his mouth fastened around one nipple. Reaching out, she fumbled with her radio until it came on, something sappy and romantic filling the air. Her hands moved to the front of his shirt and she quickly unfastened the buttons, then tugged the silk down his arms.

Angel shrugged from the shirt, then gave her a hard, deep kiss, before rising and pulling off the rest of his clothes. Naked, he slipped back between her thighs, resting lightly on her as his mouth found hers again.

They kissed as if starving for each other, their lips and tongues battling, their hands caressing in frantic strokes. Buffy's knees pressed against his sides and she squirmed beneath him, driving the throbbing tip of his cock across her lower stomach.

Her arousal pounded through her, making her dizzy with longing, and she wondered at how fast it always came upon her, then all thought was driven from her mind as he began to thrust against her, rocking his cock along her cotton covered mound.

Buffy cried into his mouth, then tore her lips from his, gasping for air. Her fingers clenched into his hair and she arched against him, reveling in the tight, hot sensations building in the pit of her stomach.

Panting needlessly, Angel propped himself on one hand, sending the other between them to tug her panties down. As Buffy kicked free of them, he drove into her, making her bite back her cries of need.

Burying her mouth against his shoulder, Buffy rocked with him, her legs around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his hard chest. A low, continuous growl broke from Angel as he thrust hard and fast, his mind a red glow of lust as her delightfully tight passage clenched around his cock.

As his orgasm rapidly approached, he suddenly remembered his words to her, and, gritting his teeth, he forced himself to slow. When he pulled out of her, her eyes popped open.

They widened even further when he scooted down the bed and buried his mouth between her legs. As Angel's tongue danced up and down her slick folds, Buffy yanked a throw pillow over her face and yelled into it. His teeth scraped at her swollen nub, then he delicately nipped. Her whole backside arched off the bed as pleasure zinged through her.

Taking her hips in his hands, Angel raised her to his mouth, drinking the juices streaming from her as he kissed and sucked on her heated flesh until she went wild. Her orgasm overwhelming her, Buffy bit into the pillow and held her breath until she saw stars behind her eyelids.

As the spasms began to slow from his tender licks, Angel moved back over her and drove powerfully into her body. Buffy whimpered and flung the pillow away, reaching for his face to bring his mouth back to hers.

"Promised...you first," Angel growled into her mouth as his own climax shattered his control. As he slumped on top of her, panting desperately for unnecessary air, he felt Buffy's lips on his cheeks and chin, heard her sighs of pleasure, and he smiled.

Willow forced one eye open to watch Spike stroll bareassed out of the bedroom. Waking up from her short doze, she felt another tingle of anticipation go through her and sat up, reclining back against the pillows and tucking the sheet around herself.

A few minutes later she giggled uncontrollably at the sight of Spike returning carrying a tray with pieces of chocolate cake and a bottle of chocolate syrup. The chocolate wasn't the funny thing. That was the frilly white apron he had tied around his waist.

"Are we playing naughty French maid and no one told me?" Willow managed to giggle out.

Spike scowled and joined her on the bed, setting the tray on her lap. "Eat your cake."

Willow's eyes widened at the vision of six layer chocolate torte on a dessert plate. "Did you bake this?"

"Yeah, can't you tell by the apron that I've become a complete poof?" he teased. "Got it at the new bakery on Euclid."

"It's sinful." She took another bite, savoring the explosion of dark, milk and white chocolate in her mouth. "Made by angels."

Spike snorted and helped himself to a bite. "Not quite. The bakery's owned by a trio of Hammerand demons." At her startled look, he smiled and continued. "Harmless types. Damn fine pastry chefs. Angel set them up in business."

"My dessert." He waggled his eyebrows at her and took another bite of the torte.

As desire surged through her, Willow grabbed the tray and shoved it at him, removing the plastic squeeze bottle as the tray dropped onto his lap.

Willow kicked away the sheets and yanked the top off the bottle. "Play now, whine later."

Spike grinned and dumped the tray on the night stand. Running his eyes over her eagerly squirming body, he took the chocolate sauce from her outstretched hand. Laying down on his stomach perpendicular to her, he expertly began to draw patterns of chocolate on her thigh. After a few minutes he grabbed her knee and sighed. "If you don't stop wriggling, I'm going to have to start over."

Giggling, Willow craned her neck to see what he was doing. "Like that would be such a hardship." His tongue swiped across a bit of chocolate covered flesh and she whimpered in pleasure. "What are you drawing?"

He looked up, his eyes burning into hers with the intensity of his desire as he murmured, "I'm not drawing. I'm writing 'Spike loves Willow' all over your body and then I'm going to lick it off and drive you insane."

By the time Angel had recovered sufficiently to lever himself off Buffy, she was asleep. Propped on one hand, he gazed down at her languid, peaceful expression. A hint of a smile curved her well-kissed lips, and her skin was flushed and shimmering with a fine sheen of perspiration. The rosy blush continued down her throat and chest to spread across her breasts, which gently rose and fell with each sated breath.

Carefully, Angel brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and touched his lips to her temple. She sighed and shifted, turning into him, her hand slipping up to rest on his hip, her smile widening in her sleep.

At her unconscious touch, Angel started, his eyes widening as emotions so long denied rushed through him. Something tightened in his chest and he gasped loudly. Anger flooded him as well, anger at the sure knowledge that he cared much, much more for the girl curled so trustingly against him than he had believed himself capable of doing.

Drusilla's innocently spoken words returned to him and Angel jerked away from Buffy, rising from the bed to flee from the sight and smell and very essence of her. He could feel her infecting him, making him want to cuddle her, soothe her, tell her things he didn't believe in.

Grabbing his pants, he had one leg in when Buffy murmured a bit crossly, "Leaving already?"

Angel froze, panic overwhelming him. Hopping on one leg, he tried to put the other one in the pants as he babbled, "I can't... I have to...No...wrong...no...fuck, shit, god dammit!" The last was directed at the pants that were refusing to go on right and had sent him toppling onto the end of the bed face first.

Buffy couldn't help it. She giggled. And when he turned furious golden eyes on her, she giggled some more.

And Angel realized this was it, the crossroads, the turning point. He either killed her now and walked away a demon, or he accepted that the emotions churning inside him were real and very, very human.

Standing in the geographic center of Sunnydale--which happened to be in Restfield Cemetery next to a large statue of a male angel with torn wings and drawn sword--Drusilla spread her arms wide and flung her head back, bathing in the light of the full moon. A smile flittered across her face as love flooded her.

It was all right now, everything was all right. It was no longer wrong for him to love her.

Closing her eyes, she spun slowly, her skirts swirling around her ankles, as the stars sang to her of possible futures, of family, of love given and received, of the mingling of blood both human and demon, of...change.

And her heart leapt in her chest, beating from the love she felt for her family, for her lovers, and Drusilla cried out in joy as tears streamed down her face.

Willow felt it first, a wave of powerful emotion sweeping over her, drowning yet not frightening her. She sank beneath it as her body arched to Spike's and her arms and legs tightened around him as they reached the rarest of rare, a mutual orgasm. As their bodies shuddered together, their eyes met, both wild and stunned.

Shifting onto his side, Spike cradled his weeping lover, soothing her with soft sounds, as unnoticed by either of them, a flutter went through his still heart.

Shoving himself to his feet, Angel angrily righted his pants, zipping them up as he turned his fury on the giggling blonde in the bed.

As Buffy began to realize that laughter was probably *not* the best idea in this situation, and fear began to overtake her wild humor, his expression changed and his eyes shot to the ceiling.

Concerned, Buffy began to rise from the bed, only to fall back as her heart began to pound and her throat constricted. Tears filled her eyes and she sobbed as emotion overwhelmed her.

Hearing her cry out, Angel spun, his head dizzy, his blood feeling like it was boiling inside him. At the sight of her crying helplessly, all his anger disappeared and the emotion that replaced it forced him to his knees.

"No," Angel howled, denying what he was feeling, what he felt, what he...knew to be true.

Hearing the agony in his cry, Buffy tumbled from the bed and wrapped herself around him as he crumpled onto his side, clinging to her.

"I hate you, you're nothing to me, nothing but a plaything, my plaything," he insisted hoarsely, "I will not love you, I will not!"

But, his words rang falsely to both of them, and Buffy sobbed, "I love you," as she stroked her fingers through his hair and opened her heart.

"It was Drusilla," Willow insisted, leaning back against Spike as he lounged against the headboard. "She did something, made us feel love."

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I think we just got caught up in something."

"Then who was it aimed at?" Spike asked, then stiffened as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Oh fuck..." Scrambling from the bed, he grabbed Willow's clothes and tossed them to her. "Get dressed."

"If Dru cast a love spell, who's the one idiot among us who won't admit he can feel that particular emotion?" He asked, yanking on a pair of jeans.

"No, I don't think it was a love spell per se," Willow said slowly as she rose to dress. "It didn't feel like that."

"True." She continued to puzzle over that as she quickly dressed. "But, it just didn't seem powerful enough. Like it was more of an...enhancement. I don't know..."

Gaining a modicum of self-control Angel pulled away from Buffy and rose to his feet, only to come face to face with the pale fury of Joyce as she stood in the doorway, the hairpin she'd used to jimmy the lock in one hand, the other clutched around the door knob.

Hearing her mother's voice, Buffy gasped and scrambled for something with which to cover herself. She ended up wrapping the blanket around herself, still sitting on the floor, tears sparkling on her cheeks. "Mom!"

Joyce's furious eyes slowly slid to the shaking heap on the floor. "I think you kept quite a bit from me, Buffy, didn't you."

Shame flooded Buffy and she tried to think of something to say, some way to make this situation...less bad, only to be shocked by the words Angel spoke. Words in her defense.

"Mrs. Summers, I take full responsibility for everything between your daughter and I. Don't blame her for keeping the truth from you. Everything is my fault."

Both women gaped at him and Angel frowned and crossed his arms over his naked chest.

Slowly Buffy rose to her feet and, holding the blanket between her breasts, moved in front of him, her back to her mother. "Angel?" she whispered, a glimmer of hope filling her.

His eyes met hers and, seeing the hope and joy in them, he physically flinched, but his hands came up to cup her shoulders as he shook his head. "No."

Buffy sagged, tears springing anew in her expressive eyes, and her head drooped. Sorrow flooded her, but it was sprinkled with relief, because she knew if somehow Angel returned to her, she'd never be able to face him.

Watching the hope leave her was almost as painful as seeing it in the first place and Angel cursed fluidly in Gaelic before gathering her close and, ignoring the presence of her mother, fully accepted the emotions churning through him. "It doesn't matter, because I will love you more than he ever could."

Buffy's head jerked up, her eyes widening with shock as her mouth fell open. Angel's eyes glittered down into hers, full of the usual evil and anger and hatred and passion and fire and lust and... "Oh god..." Sparkling through all the familiar emotions was something she had never believed she'd see again. "How?"

"Oh, it's real. She just forced it out sooner than..." Angel stopped, realizing that he was about to reveal that the emotions had been there for far longer than he had known. "Damn it!"

Her body stressed, her emotions yo-yoing from one extreme to the other, Buffy flung back her head and laughed in joy.

"What are you laughing at, wench?" Angel growled, pulling her tightly against him.

"...Dunno." She continued to laugh, burying her face in his chest as he unconsciously stroked her shoulders.

Feeling her own heart both break and expand in the face of her daughter and her demonic lover admitting their feelings, Joyce quietly pulled the door shut and headed for the stairs.

The mansion held no sign of Angel, so Spike ran back to the car in which he'd left Willow, and they headed for the next possible location.

"Oh yeah, that's a brilliant move," Spike replied sarcastically as he skidded the car around a sharp corner.

"So, she's probably home recovering from that," Willow continued, ignoring him as she gripped tightly to the strap above the door. "Could you not get us killed, please?"

"Angelus wouldn't have wanted the Slayer patrolling, not in her weakened state. So, hopefully they're at her place."

Finally calming down, Buffy pulled back from Angel and looked over her shoulder.

"When did my mom leave?" Turning, she walked to the door and opened it, then closed it again on discovery of the empty hall.

"About the time you started laughing like a loon." Angel reached for his shirt and slipped it on.

Smiling gratefully, Buffy quickly threw on a pair of sweats and a tank top, then brushed her hair before turning back to face him. "Um..."

"She knows I'm here. She knows about us. She knows I'm some kind of unnatural vampire who can..." He couldn't say it. Once a night was going to be his limit.

Maybe once a week, if he could manage it, though women tended to get all needy for the words once they were said the first time. Mentally both groaning and cursing himself, Angel sighed heavily.

Buffy held back her instinctive giggle as delight trickled through her. Taking his large hand in her small one, and, for the first time in nearly a year feeling the comfort his touch induced, she led him from the room.

"I don't hear any screams or smell any blood," Spike muttered as he and Willow dashed up the steps onto the Summers' front porch. Willow quickly rang the doorbell.

"Maybe he took it well," she said, her heart sinking as she knew that couldn't possibly be true.

When Angel and Buffy were halfway down the stairs the doorbell rang and Joyce walked out of the living room, drink in hand, to answer it.

The older woman interrupted Willow. "Yes, I know who he is, what he is." Stepping back, she gestured for them both to enter, just as Angel and Buffy stepped off the last step.

As the two vampires and their lovers all stared at each other, Joyce headed back into the living room.

Willow gaped after Joyce, then swung her eyes back to Buffy who was smiling slightly. "Are you okay?"

There was a light in the Slayer's eyes that Willow hadn't seen in a year and she swallowed heavily as emotion flooded her. The two girls fell into each others arms, laughing softly.

"Let's go get that drink, my boy," Angel said, slapping Spike on the shoulder before guiding him into the living room.

"Scotch okay with you two?" Joyce asked as she poured the amber liquid from a bottle into two tumblers.

"Fine," Angel answered. As he took one glass and handed the other to Spike, Buffy and Willow entered the room, arm in arm.

Joyce sat down on the couch and took another deep sip of her own drink, as her mind just accepted and went along with everything, and her eyes carefully examined the two...vampires standing in her living room.

"I'm confused," Spike finally said carefully, not wanting to set off his sire. "Dru..."

"Ah, yes, my beloved daughter has much to answer for," Angel replied sarcastically.

Spike stared at his sire, then slugged back his drink. "This is too bizarre for words. You're too...happy or something."

"What?" he demanded a bit defensively. "Yes, I love the twit, can we move on and discuss how we're going to keep her alive through her birthday?"

"Well...so did I, but..." Angel shrugged and reached for the bottle of Scotch. "You never know what's going to happen when you live on the mouth of hell."

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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