Summary: The fifth and hopefully last part in my short W/S series that refuses to die.
Spoilers: Minor through the third season. Takes place a couple of years in the future.
Disclaimer: Joss made them. I like to confuse them on occasion.
Rating: R
Thanks to Tracy, who happens to be one of my best friends and *the* best beta reader around. :) Love you, chica!

She rose from the bed and touched his face with lingering regret. Standing, she watched as the silk sheets pooled on her empty space on the mattress.  The moonlight spilled over her lover's hair and the contours of his cheeks and Willow picked up one of the cigarettes lying on his night stand.  Lighting it, she walked over to the window and stared out at the stars, the misty glow from the night sky spilling over her nude body.

She inhaled deeply on the cigarette and sighed, listening the the rustle of  the trees outside. It was beautiful.

She wished she hadn't come.

Looking down at the object in her hand, she grimaced in annoyance. < He's so bad for me. I only started smoking because he left. Xander hates it, Buffy hates it. Giles understands, but he hates it. Oz... > Thinking Oz's name, Willow's stomach tightened and she swallowed hard, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

< Can't think about Oz. Can't. No. >

She leaned her forehead against the windowpane and let her breath steam up the glass. Shaking her head, she smiled as she caught the reflection of the still man in the bed. Another sigh.

And without wanting to, without thinking about it, she found herself back where this started. Back where the sins began.

Remembering.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had happened one night. Not even an entire night, really. An hour, maybe  two, of living in fear of him. It started with the touch of her hair, seemingly rough and painful, but the hands winding through her red locks felt different. Hurting, angry, drunk, but the magic in Willow's heart told her that they held the promise of unending love.

Unending. What a way to put it.

And then it was a phone call. Something new, having fun with the last person she would expect. Well, in truth, she never thought Angel had much fun so she never expected to have any with him either, but that was beside the point. It was easy, casual, friendly. Friendly in a way that could kill her someday, she knew. It didn't matter much.

Next, it was the impromptu visit that she hadn't ever really forgotten. The steamy kiss, the light in the darkness of his eyes. The hand was gentle on her hair, then. She honestly never knew she would see him again. Willow had never thought that she had the power to haunt his mind the way he did hers. The ragged, frayed mind and heart that drifted on the edge of her eyes. Every man from that time on who had his height, his build or his hair, she thought was him and she couldn't stop her heart from racing.

But after he came to her at the college, things changed. Not a wild leap towards something new for her, but a subtle, almost invisible crack in the solidness that had been her life. He had sworn he would come back, and the deepest, most secret part of her believed him, but it was worse than that. She wanted him to. She wanted the disruption, the chaos.

The passion.

Not that she didn't have passion with Oz. She still loved him, even now. Even though she had no right to. Even though the ring that glittered brilliantly on her finger was now tarnished and dimmed with her betrayal. Even though... Even though there was another man in her bed, at that very moment.

Yes, she loved Oz. And he loved her.

She suspected that he knew that here was someone else. But, being Oz, he never pried, never accused her, never did anything that a person who didn't love her as much as he did would have. She might tell him, someday. Someday.

Four months before her wedding, six weeks after the visit to her school, he had come back. She had been happily oblivious to the world, to the skittering of students outside, not noticing any of the people casting her strange stares as she walked by with her books clutched to her chest and a silly smile on her face as she thought of him. Actually, she had been thinking of both of them. Together. Which is why she was also blushing.

He had come up behind her and though he had the ability to walk more quietly than even Angel, she stilled and smelled the air. Cockiness. She smiled, smelled again. Cigarettes.

He slammed into her, shoving her into the empty classroom and knocking the door closed behind him. He promptly pinned her arms above her head and planted his mouth on hers, hungrily, wildly, sucking and nibbling on her lips like only someone with an oral fixation could do.

Willow had arched her back into his firm chest, crushing her breasts against him, and gasped. Finding the opportunity, he delved his tongue inside the hot recesses of her mouth, exploring it, his hands traveling over her body and hiking her flouncy skirt up her leg. Willow moaned his name against his mouth and he pulled back to look at her and grin.

"Never thought I'd be back, did you, Witch?" he whispered.

She smirked. "I knew you would be. You're a little late, actually."

With that he laughed and pulled her into the liquid hot embrace again, his fingers nimbly pushing aside her panties and thrusting into her as she writhed, stuck between a wall and a hard place. Willow rode his hand and he slipped one finger in after another, until three were inside of her and his thumb was stroking her clit.

She cried out his name weakly as she came, bathing his hand in sticky juices. Then, melting in his arms, she finally panted out the question that she knew she had to ask.

"What happens now?"

His eyes met hers, dark, uncharacteristically serious, with something in them that could have been mistaken for love. "I make love to you at every opportunity and you finally admit that you need me more than anything."

Willow rolled her eyes playfully and pushed him off of her, readjusting her panties and smoothing down her skirt. The flash of her ring caught her eye and she groaned. He saw the look on her face and rushed to her, concerned, ready to catch her if she fell.

Instead, she pushed him off of her again and stumbled away from him. "Oh, god..." she whispered. "What the hell did I just do? What did I let *you* do? Why?"

He walked over to her with measured steps, the sound echoing through the classroom. "You gave yourself to me. Don't think I don't appreciate it, Witch, because I do."

Willow glared at him. In a shaking tone, she enunciated her point. "I. Am. Fucking. Engaged."

He looked surprised at her use of language and then glanced down at her ring. "Yes, I see you are."

"You *knew* that I was!" she cried. Giving a wild laugh, she continued. "*I* knew that I was. And still I let-- I let this happen. He'll never forgive me."

"Want me to kill him for you, Pet?"

Willow sniffed back tears. "Fuck you. This isn't funny."

He looked alarmed. "Sorry, I s'pose. Look, Willow, don't cry. I hate it when my females cry on me. I just... Look, I'm sorry. And since you probably know how much I hate saying that, you know that it's true." Her tears continued and he finally yelled. "Stop that!"

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, "I love him."

He gave an airless sigh and gathered her in his arms. "He doesn't have to know, Witch. It doesn't have to be told. Just..." He stroked her hair awkwardly, not used to having to soothe someone over something more than the death of a doll. "I just want to see you."

She looked into his eyes. "No one has to know?"

"No one," he assured her softly.

And again, she melted into his embrace.

***

They became lovers after that. Meeting in secret, minds overcome with the lust that haunted their unnatural union, clandestine love-making, trembling skin and mouths that hungered to taste every inch of each other.

For the last two months, if they were in the same room they had to be touching, talking, whispering words of passion to one another. It was different with him. Not better than with Oz, but so different. Fear accompanied their wildness, their secrets. Fear for her life, fear for her relationships. And his fear, his fear that he wouldn't convince her in time, his fear that she would leave him when he so needed her.

It was founded on more than sex. Somehow, they saw past the unbridled cravings and talked. Touched each other tenderly. Fell more and more in love.

A love like this can't last forever, Willow told herself often.

But the scary thing was: It could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air was heavy and thick with Willow's memories of past rights and wrongs, and she looked down to see the smoke from her cigarette curling around her fingertips, because it had been smoked down to the filter. "Damn it," she muttered, putting it out in the ashtray nearby.

A voice mumbled something behind her and Willow turned.

"What are you doing up so late, Witch? I thought we were going to rest for the day," he said sleepily and her eyes widened, looking back at the window.  Sure enough, the sun was beginning to spill over the horizon, bathing the trees in its golden tones. She hurriedly pulled the shade and walked back over to the bed.

"Sorry, Spike," she whispered, tenderly tracing his lips with her finger. "You know I have class this morning, though."

He nipped at her finger and she laughed lightly, bending down and kissing him slowly. Her hair curtained them, and they were again kissing in secret, loving each other in the dark.

"How long until?" he asked quietly.

"An hour."

"Come lay beside me for an hour then," he whispered, gesturing to her empty space on the bed. Willow nodded and stretched out, folding herself in his arms, kissing his chin lightly.

They fell silent, thinking, contemplating, and Willow stared at the face of the man that she had grown so in love with. She memorized his look, his smell, the tiny scar on his eyebrow with such infinite tenderness that it was almost painful to keep looking.

Finally she closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. Soon she would have to decide on one or the other. Oz, the werewolf who loved her with all of his soul or Spike, the vampire who loved her with all of his heart?

She snorted, and he looked down at her with a crooked grin. "What is it, Pet?"

She shook her head against him. "It's nothing really." She paused, then laughed. "I just have the weirdest relationships."

The End

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