Charter eleven

Willow had looked at him wide-eyed for some instants, after William had left the room, and Eric almost hadn't had the courage to look at her. He knew he had been cold to William and he knew that, that young woman, who had willingly chosen to go back in time to save the man she loved, was probably thinking he was a heartless bastard, but that was part of the training, from that moment on, William was on his own.

The red-head got up from the chair, making it fall. Eric raised his head, green fire was coming from her eyes, she looked outraged....furious...she looked beautiful.

"I know what you are thinking, Willow" he said in a low voice. She surprised him getting close to the desk and grabbing a pen and a sheet, quickly writing something on it

<<Do you? I don't think so! You have just condemned him to die and the only thing you could worry about was a ring?>>

"He has chosen, Willow...what did you expect me to do?"

She took the pen and the sheet and wrote something else

<<Being his friend...just when he needed one the most...that's the last time you'll ever see *William*, doesn't he mean anything to you?>>

"On the contrary, Willow...I do care about him "

"Bastard" she mouthed, tears filling her eyes. She turned her back at him and went to the door.

Eric stopped her saying, "He will probably be in the meditation room, it is on the first floor. He always goes there when he is upset..."

Willow turned toward him, while her hand was still on the doorknob, she took a deep breath and nodded at him, he saw her lips stretching in her tiny, almost shy smile, then mouthed, "Thank you"

She left the room, leaving him alone, and Eric had to sit, while he whispered, "You're welcome"

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Spike had his eyes closed, he somehow felt that even if he had opened them, he wouldn't have been able to see anything, and what scared him the most, was that he didn't mind.

The drowsiness that for a while had taken him away

from the pain, had faded, he wondered why he hadn't died, yet. He was beginning to see death as liberation.

He had always been a fighter, never had he given up, it wasn't in his nature...yet, that pain was worse than anything he had ever experienced.

The memories were keeping him alive, he realized. The clouds around them were slowly dissipating, revealing more details. It was strange how they were part of him now...as if Willow had always been there.

She had been there when the messenger from the Eletti had arrived with the news he had been activated. Even if he had chosen to ignore her in that moment, he recalled

now the look in her eyes and how she had felt for him.

He had trained for that moment for years, yet when Eric had uttered those four words, he had felt breathless. Millions of thoughts had crowded his mind, millions of small recollections, of tastes, smells, sights...and in a

blink of an eye, he had bid farewell to them, then that hot restlessness had filled him, and he had gone out from that room, from those words, and the tiny voice in his head that had kept telling him, he needed some more time, he had run to the meditation room. That had been the only place he had found peace during his training.

He had spent countless hours in that large room, full of windows, which were usually covered when Eric was there with him. He had spent countless hours in that room, studying, or simply relaxing, letting the sun bathing him, how many sunrises had he observed from those windows?

Spike shook his head, trying to shake away the memories, trying to focus on the pain and on Anya's hands, that kept sprinkling balms on his tortured

skin.

He wished he had the strength to tell her to just stop, because it was useless...the poison was winning

~ The room was dipped in obscurity, but William knew it as his own palms, he quickly headed toward the first window, and pulled the curtain down, then repeated the action with the others, the sky was of a pale blue, and even the sun didn't shine brightly, but that was enough for him. He tried to rationalize the emptiness he was feeling...he was trying not to feel so damned alone...and desperate.

He didn't have second thoughts...he believed in what he did. He had felt honoured to be chosen, and still felt that way...he just wished that pounding in his chest wasn't so deafening.

 He took some deep breaths, he filled his lungs with air, but it looked like the more air he breathed, the more breathless he felt.

He closed his eyes when he heard her steps. He knew it was her; he didn't need to turn to see her. since the night before, wherever he had turned, whenever he had closed his eyes, her face, her smile, her bright green eyes had been there.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a low voice ~

"You...wanker...she...couldn't speak..." Spike rasped shaking his head. He felt Anya's hand on his hair; he swallowed and said in a low voice, "Quit this, Anya..."

"But Eric told me..." Anya started.

"Bugger ...him..." he huskily said, but arched his head, gritting his teeth, when a new throbbing wave of pain hit him. he was almost glad Willow wasn't there with him, he was glad she couldn't see what that bitch was doing to

him.

~ He felt her small hand on his shoulder. How dared that woman to touch him?

He had fooled himself, thinking it was him she was interested in...but it had been a lie; it was his blood she was after, just like the Eletti, just like all the sodding world.

"What do you want from me?" he snapped turning around and grabbing her wrist.

He dragged her to a side of the room; there were some knives, neatly disposed on a table. Eric had used them during their training, to test his reflexes and cold blood.

He let go of her wrist and took off his duster, he then rolled the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbows then took one of the knives, he toyed with its blade for some seconds, then hissed, "Do you want my blood?"

<Tell me a lie...please...>

A passing thought came in his mind, but he shook it away, again he grabbed her wrist, and part of himself enjoyed the fact he was hurting her, hurting her as much as *he* was hurting.

She closed his eyes and lowered her head. He swallowed and let go of her.

"Look..." he ordered as the blade cut his elbow, a thin vermilion line, appeared on his white skin, he stretched his arms toward her saying, "Take it...take all the blood you need...do not forget to leave some for the ponce that will kill me, though"

He was taken aback, when she raised her head and looked at him, he could catch hesitancy in her eyes, he could catch sorrow in her eyes...but not pity, not accusations.

<Who are you?>

He silently wondered. She took a deep breath, then raised the little bottle that hung on her neck; she uncapped it, then placed the bottle on his wound.

William blinked as all the blood that was seeping from his wound was absorbed by the little bottle. When she finished, the scar was still there, although it seemed old.

She capped the bottle, then looked at him for a second before mouthing, "I'm sorry..."

She turned her back at him, and quickly headed to the door. His feet were quicker than his mind, than his heart. He reached her to the door, and stopped her, grabbing her by her shoulders and pulling her at him.

He needed that woman...needed her more than he had needed anything else in his life.

He had unconsciously desired her since the night before, when he had seen her running in the graveyard. He had pushed away that thought, as he had gotten used to.

He was about to die, though...he was about to be killed. He was already dead...

The young woman, stiffened, but didn't turn, didn't do anything.

"Don't go...please...not yet" he whispered, against her hair. The woman turned and looked at him, there were tears in her eyes, but he could read something else as well...something he couldn't exactly pinpoint, and if he had to be honest he didn't care.

The only thing which mattered to him was her body, close, so close to his,  the only thing which was keeping him in that moment from crumble down upon the heartache, the fear, was her skin, a skin he wanted desperately to touch, to taste, to make his.

She raised her hand to touch his face, and he leant in her caress, he felt her fingertips tracing his lips, and he kissed them, all of them. He lowered his hand to her waist, pulling her at him. ~

"Oh...bloody hell..." Spike said in a low voice.

What had he thought? Had he really been so desperate, so blinded by fear, by that fire, that hadn't left him, until Drusilla had killed him under that pouring rain to use Willow like that?

He wished he could fool himself saying he had loved her then...but he hadn't. He hadn't cared about her.

~ He crushed his lips to hers, she didn't resist, although a part of himself told him, she had opened her mouth much out of surprise than for passion. Her mouth tasted of apples, mint...and tears.

He tasted her, ravishing her mouth with his, grazing the flaming red of her hair, digging his fingers in it. He felt her hands gripping his shoulders. He moaned in her mouth, when with her fingertips, she tickled the nape of his neck.

His hand left her hair and grazed her cheeks for some seconds, then her neck. His other hand was still on her waist, he raised it, brushing her back.

 He pressed her against the huge wood door. She lightly pulled him back from her, grasping for air. Her face was flushed, and her eyes so bright, although he couldn't say whether for unshed tears or passion.

He searched her eyes for approval...as much as he desired her, needed her...he knew in his heart that he couldn't have ever forced her, although he chose to ignore that part of him that was screaming at him to stop treating that young woman like a whore.

"Tell me to stop...and I will" he said, surprised by how husky his voice was. Never in his life had he felt so aroused, her taste was like a drug

She shook her head, and raised her hand to brush his hair, again his mouth almost brutally descended on hers, she responded to his kiss with all her might, his hands went under her gown, to her bosom, cupping it, pulling her at him, toward his erection, he felt her legs wrapping around his waist, he vaguely noticed, she wasn't wearing corsets, just a thin garment. ~

Spike blinked his eyes open trying to shake away those memories, but it wasn't enough.

 He could feel as if it had just happened, her hands circling his neck, and the look in her eyes, the acceptance, the love in it.

He could feel the cold metal of the little bottle, pressed between them, and that fire inside him, that had almost blinded him.

He had shagged her to feel alive, not to feel so numb, and she had understood that, she had given herself wholly to him, had accepted his sorrow, trying to giving back to him peace.

"Oh, Red..." he whispered.

~ He wasn't sure, how they had gotten on the floor, he chose to ignore the fact that their bodies seemed to fit perfectly.

He was only aware of her legs wrapped around his hips, of her skin he couldn't stop touching, tasting, wanting, of her face so close to his, of her lips on his neck, tasting him, of her heat, that he could feel through the fabric of his trousers.

His hand went on her inner tights, and she arched her back in anticipation, she seemed to know his touch, his body, he could feel her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and moaned when her small hands touched his bare skin, lightly pinching his nipples, his fingers traced the outlines of her labia, through the fabric of that thin garment.

She quivered in his arms and he kissed her, hard, their tongues, meeting, battling against each other.

He ripped the soft fabric of her panties, and started rubbing her already swollen clit. She tore her mouth away from his and arched her back, seeking release.

She shuddered in his arms, and he twisted her clit in his fingers , she silently climaxed, tugging the fabric of his shirt, searching for his lips, William touched her face with his hand, gently forcing her to look at him.

<Look at me>

His eyes told her, he smiled at her, and his mouth was again on hers, teasing her, tasting her, claiming her. He couldn't help shivering in anticipation when her hands went on the fastening of his trousers, helping him out of them.

His eyes bore into hers, even when he supported his weight on his elbows, and with one quick thrust entered her hot, slick channel.

He didn't move, giving her time to adjust to him, she arched her back, wrapping tighter her legs around his hips, only then did he start to move inside her, with aching slowness at first, their movements soon grew with  intensity, and William lost himself in her.

He didn't love her, he didn't even know her...he just knew he needed her, to reassure himself his flesh was still alive, that his heart was still beating in his chest.

He closed his eyes and held his breath, when he felt her tighten around him, her hands went on his hair and she pulled him at her, hungrily kissing him, while a wave a sheer pleasure, engulfed them both, he thrust inside her one more time as he felt the walls he had so painfully build around him, collapsing for some instants, he let out a cry, hiding his face, in her shoulder, as he climaxed.

He rested his head against the soft skin of her shoulders, taking deep breaths, inhaling the mixed scents of their sweats and the sex they had just had.

Willow's heart was pounding in her chest, he could clearly hear it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking that soon, he was going to be able to effortlessly hear heartbeats, and that the sound of the blood flowing in the veins, was going to arouse him...

A lone single tear slid down his cheek.

<Being an Eletti is more than a choice...it is a mission, it asks everything of you, what you are, your past, your feelings...your own life...are you really ready to waive all of this?>

The words Eric had told him so long ago; when he had accepted his offer echoed clear in his mind, as if he was hearing them for the first time.

<I am...I pledged to stand against the darkness... >

He shook his head, and slowly slid off Willow. She was looking at him, understanding in her eyes, he swallowed, as he refastened his trousers and buttoned his shirt, he looked at her saying, "I still have things to do..."

She just nodded at him, slowly shifting in a sitting position. William put on his duster, and said, "Forgive me..."

Willow, shook her head and smiled at him.

<Who are you, really?>

He thought taking in her swollen lips, and tousled hair. He couldn't help smiling at her. She shrugged and mouthed, "Good luck, William..."

He nodded tightening in his duster and softly said, "Good luck Willow..."

He turned his back at her, and quickly exited the room. He rested his head against the door, perhaps it had been just his imagination, but he was sure he had heard her sobbing. He closed his eyes and sighed, steeling himself for the incoming hours.

His mission had just started. ~

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Hidden behind a corner in the hall, Alain was watching Electra and the gheraious fighting.

Electra had expressly asked him not to intervene in any

fight he was going to see. He had witnessed as Electra had snapped her fingers, and a black dome had engulfed both the vampire and the Slayer.

Electra was powerful, extremely powerful, when he had met her she didn't even realize how strong her hidden powers were.

She had stopped him from opening one of the Hellmouths, in the process; they had found something else, something incredibly powerful.

It was her who was stopping him, from spreading the word about the Eletti in the vampire community.

"Do you want a civil war? Do you want us to be so distracted that it wouldn't take a Slayer to eliminate us? I don't think so, cherie...we have knowledge and we have power..."

She always said things like that. Her mysteries didn't worry him, she could have been an Eletti and she was indeed very strong...but she loved him, Alain was sure about that. He shook his head smiling at the sight which was displaying in front of him.

Electra and Eric were still fighting; each blow was viciously given with the precise intent to weaken the other. Alain noticed that, despite what they had told before starting fighting, none of them was in game face.

 It was a fascinating sight.

He wondered why none of them had used magic, the answer surprised him, they were relying on their knowledge and mind to fight.

Electra kicked Eric; the dark-haired vampire caught her foot in his hand and twisted it, making her fall on the floor on her back.

Alain saw as Eric getting close to her, ready to hit her again, but Electra quickly rose on her feet, kicking him in the face.

The dark haired vampire staggered, but shook his head and spin on himself, kicking Electra in the solar plexus, with enough force to threw her across the room. Electra hit her head against a wall.

She went limp on the floor, unmoving.

<Really great! She has lost consciousness...>

Eric approached her, slowly, he bent taking from the floor one of the bolts Electra had dodged.

<He's going to kill her>

Alain thought, taking a step forward. He was still partially hidden. He didn't give a damn about Electra. She was a traitor, but she looked like she was on to something.

She had his same goal and mostly the means and the knowledge to achieve it.

She knew how to end the world.

He was about to intervene when Eric turned, from the waistband of his jeans he produced a stake; he threw it at him, piercing his left shoulder, just an inch above the heart.

"Take another step and next time I won't miss the heart" he calmly said.

Alain couldn't help stepping back, grimacing in pain. His demon recognized Eric's as a much older one, he realized, though, that the soul wasn't the only thing that kept it at bay.

"You don't have many stakes left, gheraious" Electra's voice replied.

She practically jumped on her feet saying, "Nice kick, but it would have been much more effective if I had actually needed to breathe. You told me

 you wanted to rip my heart out of my chest, didn't you? Well, what if I do

that?"