Title : Happy Belated Birthday Inell
Author: Anastasia (charlie1@acay.com.au)
Disclaimer: I would happily have them but unfortunately they belong to Joss and large corporations.
Rating : R, just some teasing fun.
Pairing : Willow/Spike
Notes : Set this season, one week before Buffy's birthday. Piece of silly fluff.


"Spike?" it was a squeak that would've made Mickey Mouse jealous that stopped Spike's forward momentum up the stairs, eventually into Buffy's bedroom, and brought forth the demon. Spinning, he tried to find some advantage by placing the voice, certain it wasn't the Slayer or any of the Summers women, he'd seen the whole happy trio drive off barely half an hour ago. Instead of being faced with some horrific minion of hell, it was the witch, standing at the foot of the stairs in red leather. Tight red leather that seemed painted onto her impossibly long legs, hugging her hips, then there was nothing except the vast amount of pale skin broken by a slash of crackled gold tinted with red hues that was supposedly meant to be one of the tiny triangular tops that were all the rave.

The demon melted away as Spike stared. Hell, he'd never seen the redhead display so much skin, or her shoulders for that matter, but there they were, all clearly on display in the tight fitting outfit. He had to blink and do another sweep over the leather, following the tight pants back up to the pale waist and her navel, the triangular end of her top pointing it out to him. Not that he had to have it pointed out, it was the first time he'd seen her navel naked, well close up anyway, and it called to him. Made the blond tilt his head in wonder at the cute little belly button, small and perfectly round, sinking back into her stomach, there was no end to what treasures were hidden in it.

"Spike," the squeak distracted him from her navel and he scowled down at her, wondering if she was possessed...she had to be considering the outfit and the squeak. "What are you doing here?"

"Bugger that," he spat, continuing to scowl, the house was empty ~ she wasn't meant to be there. "What the hell are you doing here and why are you squeaking?"

"Dawn's party," Willow stated indignantly as her voice started to return to its normal pitch. Shrugging, she waved the balloon she was holding at him and grinned sheepishly. "And helium."

"Helium?" asked Spike ludicrously, she was a strange one this witch.

"Yes," she looked him over from head to toe, taking in the bunch of flowers he held in one hand and narrowed her eyes. "You haven't exactly explained your presence here though."

"Same reason as you..." Spike stated without missing a beat. "Dawn's party."

It was then that he knew she didn't believe him. The green eyes, which had been optimistic, sparked with pure mischief and a cheeky little smile tainted her lips. Shaking her head, she walked away from him, the red leather-clad ass swaying in a way he was certain wasn't good.

"Uh huh."

"What's that meant to be then?" demanded Spike, storming back down the stairs to follow her. The last thing he wanted was the little witch calling his bluff, which she had done with that incredulous little sound. "You think the little brat wouldn't invite me?"

"Oh sure," Willow stated, tying off the balloon and letting it drift up with the rest that were floating about with their long streamers dangling down. She didn't even bother to look at him as she continued fiddling with bits and pieces. "All fifteen year olds are just dying to invite a neutered male vampire to a girls only sleepover..." She knelt down at the coffee table, setting about wrapping up the 'pass the parcel' bundle, and glanced up at the sullen vampire. "Let me guess, you're actually the Avon rep who's going to do the make-overs?"

She'd had too much helium, why she was sucking back helium Spike wasn't sure, but he was certain she'd had too much. Here she was raving about a party when there was no one in the house.

"Hang on, there's no one here so, what the hell are you talking about?!?!"

"Of course no one's here...yet," Willow pointedly stated, ignoring the growl that accompanied the thump as the blond spread himself across the sofa, the flowers still clutched in his fist. "I'm here to do the decorations," she waved her hand about the nearly completed room and Spike glanced about, taking in the birthday banner, copious amounts of floating balloons that obscured the ceiling and other party decorations. Considering she'd had barely half an hour, she'd done a damn good job of it all. "Dawn doesn't know she's having a sleepover party, she just thinks her Mom and Buffy are taking her and her friends out to dinner. This is the surprise. I have three hours to transpose this area into party central."

"Right. I knew that actually," Spike stated, deciding that he could still save face. "Joyce asked me to lend a hand."

"Uh huh."

There it was again, that whole calling his bluff without forming a sentence. Red leather pants or no, she was starting to get on his nerves.

"Will you stop saying that!" he didn't even bother to ask, just demanded and damn it if she didn't turn to face him with that stupid lopsided smile.

"You were heading upstairs with a bunch of carnations, red no less, but you're here to help with the party..."

Okay, so she'd called his bluff...again. At least she'd used an actual sentence. Didn't matter, at that point in time, Spike hated her.

"What, you think that these are for the Slayer? Ha, shows how much you know..." he tossed the carnations down on the coffee table and snorted at her, he could still make a damn good bluff. "I brought them for the little girl's birthday. Every girl deserves flowers on her birthday."

"Dawn's birthday was on Wednesday, the party was postponed until tonight so they wouldn't miss school," Willow sighed and shook her head, turning back to the task of wrapping up the cutesy gifts. "You're nothing but a big sap, Spike."

"Bitch," Spike was pissed. She'd done it again, at least now she was sticking to whole sentences, better than that grunting thing she had going. Still, with no other excuses left, name-calling was a good alternative and undoubtedly it'd make her cry.

"Fangless," she didn't even bother to look at him and her voice held no hint of malice or distress.

"Wannabe Witch," Spike knew he'd hit a sore point when she stopped wrapping and spun her head to look at him, anger evident in her eyes.

"Undead mid life crisis," she spat and turned back to the parcel, accidentally knocking something from the coffee table.

"Hey..." Spike started, but he was left speechless by the sight before him. To all that was unholy, she was kneeling over in those tight red pants, knees spread slightly, ass high in the air as she reached out to pick up the thing she sent flying and his come back was forgotten. He was going to lose face in front of Red. Time to fall back on childish repartee because his brain was otherwise occupied with the red leather clad ass barely a few feet away from him "Sticks and stones, love."

"May break my bones," she grinned at him over her shoulder before the expression melted away into a sultry pout and the eyes grew brazen. "But whips and chains excite me..."

"Rather kinky... well, they always say it's the quiet ones," Spike murmured, still appreciating the view. Oh yeah, those pants left nothing to the imagination and he was certain she couldn't be wearing underwear, even a g-string would leave a mark under the spray paint that was masquerading as leather. Add to that the pale expanse of skin that was left bare by her tiny top, exposing her slim waist and lovely back and what the hell was he thinking?? Shifting, he frowned, glancing down at the carnations as she sat back up. "You think the Slayer'll like them?"

For the first time that evening there was no rapid-fire retort from the witch and it was enough to draw his attention. She was fiddling, he'd seen enough of her actions during the past few months to know it wasn't anything productive, it was that nervous little movement that she did when she had something to say that was bound to upset someone. Raising an eyebrow, he watched her intently, the fiddling wasn't good considering he was the only other individual in the house. Great, the Slayer was probably allergic to carnations.

"Spike," with the soft tone of Willow's voice, he just knew it was going to be bad news, especially when she turned to face him, all trace of frivolity gone. "I'm not getting involved. If you want to go chasing after Buffy, then you do it. Don't do what all the others did ~ I'm not an all-knowing expert on Buffy and her romantic inclinations."

Spike continued to watch as she turned back to the parcel, still fiddling with it, even though she'd said what she thought. It made sense to him, now she'd mentioned it, that coming to the best friend for suggestions, information and general inside knowledge would be a good idea. Of course she'd just vetoed that with her little 'I don't want to hurt you, but I'll be damned before I play matchmaker' statement. Hang on, she'd mentioned others...

"Others? What 'others' would they be, ducks?" he wasn't above trying to get some information from her.

"You know, Xander, Angel and Riley," Willow frowned for a moment. "Although not so much Angel, but he still wanted..."

"Little things," Spike surmised, knowing full well the dark haired vampire liked to gather little snippets to add to his own stalking and gathering fests, just to make sure he was heading in the right direction.

"Yeah," came the despondent reply and Spike glanced at her, not surprised to find her all pouty. Smirking, he swung his legs off the couch and leant forward, closing the distance between them.

"Bet you're jealous."

"Oh please," Willow's face reflected the stupidity of the suggestion. "I'm gay."

"What a load of codswallop," Spike roared, throwing his hands up in the air as he leant back against the couch. It was a catch cry that he was sick of hearing from her and her mates.

"What?"

"Sorry, I'll Americanize it," he smirked, leaning back down so he was barely a few inches away from her. "That's such a load of crap."

"Hello?" Willow protested. "I have a girlfriend."

"So?" he asked sarcastically. "Doesn't mean you're a lesbian, just means you're bi-sexual. If the wolf came back..."

"Oz did come back and then he left, remember?" the pain was evident in Willow's voice as she turned away. There was no mistaking that Oz had been an important part of her life and Spike shook his head, dropping down to sit next to her on the floor. Finally, he had a chink in the apparent Armour.

"Yeah," agreed Spike, running his fingers over her folded knee, he just had to do it to make sure it was leather. "But did you say, oh I'm madly in love with this girl and what I felt for you was nothing more than a lie, so that I'd be accepted without question by my peers, and a conscious decision to revert against my natural tendency to love women?" Spike smirked, watching the emotions flitter across her face. "No, he left because you brought out the beast, love. If he'd been able to control it, then you would've had to make some tough choices." He stayed on the floor but leant back to rest against the couch, the smirk growing as he stretched his arms back, linking his fingers behind his head. "But he couldn't, so you got given Tara on a silver platter. If some bloke said he wanted to get down and dirty with you, and you found him attractive, I reckon you'd be spreading your legs in a heartbeat."

"You're so vulgar."

"But you know I'm right..." Spike loved to see the redhead squirm and with her shallow three worded retort he knew he was right, she'd made no attempt to deny it or form a logical argument. And she was squirming, literally, turning around to face him, anger brewing in her eyes.

"And what if you are? Not that I'm saying you are, but going on my previous track record it'd probably be some..." she struggled to find the words to describe the type of males she'd attracted over the years. "Less than ordinary guy."

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Spike stated, surprised by the way she'd spat the words out. He'd never given much thought to the Scooby's past, especially not their dating records, but Red's could be interesting, especially since there was nothing better to do and it might come in handy sometime in the future, so he was more than willing to listen.

"My first boyfriend was a demon, pure demon at that, who made himself a body out of metal and computer pieces...then he tried to kill me," Willow exclaimed, rolling her eyes and Spike dropped his hands down, leaning his weight on between her and the couch. "So, there you go, strike one. My next boyfriend was Oz, a werewolf, and that..." the animation left her face, her hands, so active before, fell to her lap as she followed them with her eyes and she shrugged. "It didn't work out. Strike two. Then there was Xander..."

"I never understood the appeal in the Twinkie myself," Spike shook his head.

"Well, you know...constantly with each other, feelings develop. It was one of those growing up, developing crushes and being madly in love...or hormonally unbalanced," she shook her head, a twisted smile gracing her lips. "But I guess he was pretty normal..." she paused for a moment, a frown scrunching up her nose. "Except he was dating Cordelia at the time."

"A red hot affair," Spike shifted, getting comfortable, knowing his next question would at least get a blush from the witch. "Did you two shag like minxes?"

"No, just unauthorized smoochies..." Willow frowned and Spike was disappointed, no blush, no stutter. "And wandering hands."

"You live dangerously, Red."

"Anyway, that was strike three," Willow shrugged. "Only, it was kind of strike two because it happened during the whole Oz thing..."

"So you decided to change teams?" Spike murmured, cutting off her ramble. Licking his lips, he once more closed the space between them by leaning forward. "And what a girl you picked, someone who thought she was a demon..."

"But she's not," stated Willow, it was a sharp denial and Spike mused over the possibilities behind it. Nonchalantly, he shrugged, his eyes darkening as they fixed on hers.

"Doesn't change the fact that she thought she was. Face it, love," he growled, angling his head so that he could nearly brush his lips against hers. "You appeal to the demon in everyone, you call to it...look at the facts, you've listed them yourself."

"Ha, ha," the words were dry as Willow brought her hand to his chest, intending on pushing him away. His smirk grew as her hand pressed uselessly against his chest and he leant against it, briefly, before acquiescing to being pushed back slightly. After all, he was eager to hear what she'd say, so he was willing to comply...for the time being. Her index finger tapped twice before she pulled her hand away and smiled at him. "There is a tiny little hole in your theory, Spike, Xander."

"You think?" the smirk died and he tilted his head, mesmerized by the curiosity and questions that filled her eyes and her parted lips, waiting. "Look at his scorecard, love. There was Miss Congeniality and now Anya, not to mention that ever-present crush on the Slayer...not exactly what you'd call normal. He's attracted to the bizarre, the supernatural, the twisted...you fall into that category."

Spike licked his lips as her mouth clamped shut and she pulled back slightly, her eyes narrowing as she considered what he'd said. It was time to step up the game. Ever so casually, he rolled his body, his free hand coming down to rest behind her so he loomed over her, never breaking contact with her eyes that had grown as wide as saucers.

"What do you think, love? Want more proof?" he growled, slowly moving closer, pushing her back by invading her personal space. "What about Angelus, and no, we're not talking Angel, but Angelus. Remember that night," he whispered in her ear, smiling at the shiver and great gulp it produced. "At the school..." his cheek brushed against hers and he could feel his own warming just from being so close to her. "When he grabbed you?"

Her breath betrayed her, catching slightly as she angled her head and dropped her hands to the floor behind her to support her weight as he continued to force her back.

"What about it?"

"That was the demon," Spike whispered, dropping his head down to let his lips hover along her jaw line, not touching the skin but feeling her warmth. Slowly, he looked up at her from lowered eyes. "He made no pretence of trying to be the man. Pure, unadulterated evil held you in its arms that night. Tell me his hands didn't roam over you," he challenged her, continuing his excruciatingly slow exploration of her jaw and throat with his lips, purposely keeping from touching her. "His fingers caressed your throat, stroking the very thing he wanted to sink his fangs into..."

The problem with Willow's position was that it didn't allow for backward movement. She was kneeling, awkwardly at that, so her legs were firmly trapped under the weight of her body, the torso of which was bent back to nearly breaking point, even with the support of her hands. There was no elegance in her next move as, with a startled gasp, her arms buckled and she somehow ended up sprawled on the floor, Spike following her every movement so she was literally pinned beneath him. Arms and legs, free of the constraints of her previous position, were haphazardly spread out below him. However, nothing touched, he was poised above her, holding her down with his eyes and sheer presence. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

"How did you..."

"Know?" he briefly raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't matter. Then of course there was that wolf. How many times did he just watch you? Fix his eyes on you and not let you out of his sight. Did he tell you he wanted to take it slowly? You know why, don't you?" the eyebrow once more shot up as he pursed his lips. "He couldn't control the wolf around you, it was a struggle long before it became a problem. It was his instinct to take you, mark you, mate like the demon he was. You enthralled and terrified the boy all at once," his mouth hovered over her cheek and up to her temple before dropping down to her ear as she lay enthralled beneath him. "You made him howl...you appeal to the demon that resides in everyone, Angelus, the wolf, anyone you care to name. You make them all scream...make them beg." Spike's eyes found hers and he wondered if they could get any wider. Dropping his head, his gaze roamed, taking in the tiny top and pale skin. Hell, he didn't even need to look any lower, the tight red leather pants were the only things he could see every time he closed his eyes. So he returned to her lips, moist and parted, her hot breath rushing over them, warming his own barely inches away. "Oh yeah, there's something about you, an energy, unending source of untapped power all hidden under an appearance that could be so easily overlooked..."

What had started out as a joke was quickly turning into something more, he was being seduced by his own words, wondering what he'd have to do in order to get those damnable leather pants off her. That was why he wasn't expecting what came next. The lips he was so focused on, pouted and moved closer, and he was certain they were both going to be naked within moments...

"And here I was thinking they only liked me because I used to chain them down and ride them...like ponies."

The words were nothing more than a husky whisper, dripping with sin and sensuality, and the eyes held none of the childish innocence he was use to seeing. In fact, they were positively filled with the seductive promises of a siren and for a brief moment he was lost to the very thing he'd been raving about. Then an impish smirk crossed her face, her eyes lit up in pure amusement and she pulled herself out from under him just as his arms gave way and he crashed to the floor.

Ride them like ponies? Where the hell had that come from, Spike was certain that Angelus would have mentioned something if the...No way, she was joking, there was no way in heaven or hell that Angelus would let a slip of a girl chain him down and do that. Not even the bloody souled imposter would. Spike on the other hand...

"Hey," he called out to her retreating figure, coping another eyeful of her wonderfully swaying ass. "Where are you going?"

"Blockbusters," she answered, disappearing from view as she fetched her jacket from the foyer. "Can't have a sleepover without videos."

By the time Spike had pushed himself off the floor she was gone, out the front door without a second glance or even pausing to see if he wanted to come. Bugger that. Before she reached the Summers letterbox, he was by her side, matching her stride for stride, fervently glancing sideways and catching a glimpse of the gold top as she buttoned up her coat. He didn't know if he should be cheering "Woo hoo" that he was the only one privy to what she was wearing, or rather not wearing, beneath the jacket or booing because he wanted some big bad creature of the night to try and show some muscle so he could get into a fight in front of her, over her, for her.

Hang on, what was he thinking? He was the big bad creature of the night...walking a red leather clad witch to Blockbusters. Okay, it wasn't really a big bad creature of the night thing. But it could be, considering she was a witch who was looking damnably tempting in that leather. Plus there was that whole ride them like ponies thing...

"What are you doing in that outfit anyway?" Spike asked, patting down his duster in search of his ciggies, idle hands after all... "Not your usual glad rags, pet."

"I'm a wannabe popstar!" Willow grinned at him, burying her hands in the pockets and glancing up at the ominous dark clouds that hid the night sky.

"What's that when it's at home?" he lit his cigarette and suddenly realized that she'd stopped. He turned back only to find her staring at him, mouth wide open, shock clearly visible on her face. "What?"

"You watch 'Passions' but you haven't heard about 'Popstars'?" Willow rolled her eyes in disbelief and Spike shrugged. She shook her head and continued walking, Spike quickly falling into step with her again. "That's a sad thing, Spike."

Spike took a deep drag on his cigarette, hiding his smirk, he wasn't going to let anyone in on exactly what television shows he watched. "Why the hell would you want to dress like one anyway?"

"I'm going to a party later on tonight, it's a come as you aren't deal, I'm a Popstar, Anya and Xander are going as a couple..."

"I thought it was go as you aren't? Don't tell me they're no longer merrily joined at the hip," Spike grimaced, letting the smoke escape with his words.

"They're doing a role reversal thing..."

"You mean the Twinkie is going to pull on a pair of trousers then?" Spike warily glanced up at the heavy clouds as a rumble of thunder sounded. Beside him, Willow laughed.

"Well, no. Anya is going as the guy and Xander is going in a dress," Willow increased her pace slightly as a flash of lightning lit up the otherwise dark street. "They were meant to be helping me with getting things ready for Dawn's party...but apparently Xander is just too sexy in a dress for Anya to leave alone."

Spike smirked. "I bet she's got him wearing stockings and frilly knickers."

"Don't forget the stilettos ~ it was surprisingly easy to find a pair which fitted him," Willow frowned momentarily. "I think I should be disturbed by that fact."

"Why?" asked Spike, chucking away his cigarette butt as they reached Blockbusters. "Old Sunnyhell is just full of surprises. Where's your blonde piece of stuff tonight? How come she's not helping you?"

"Guest lecturer for one of her classes," Willow pushed open the door and smiled at the two clerks manning the counter. "It's a late class and she's going to meet us at the party."

"So it's just you doing the decorations?" asked Spike, wondering how she'd gotten so much done in such a short period of time and following her along the various isles of videos.

"Yep, and getting the videos. Then that's it," Willow picked up a video, turning it over in her hands to scan the cover. "The decorations were easy ~ everything was ready and down in the basement, I just had to bring them up basically."

"The basement?" Spike asked ludicrously, surely Dawn must have known about it all.

"Strange things have been known to happen in that basement, everyone avoids it," she stated, understanding the meaning of the question. Moving on, she picked out another video. Spike didn't know if she was doing her bluff thing again, but the basement was a topic he preferred to avoid.

"So what wonderfully entertaining videos are you getting the little rug rats?" he grabbed the video from her hand and frowned at the title. "Sleepy Hollow?"

"Dawn's a fan of the cheekbones..."

"Cheekbones?"

"Johnny Depp, the man has cheekbones and a jaw to die for," Willow smiled goofily, as she tapped the cover that he held in his hands. Turning on her heel, she walked away, leaving Spike to follow her, clenching his jaw muscle and pursing his lips at every opportunity that arose.

And there were quite a few of them. Every time Willow picked up a video, Spike would purse his lips in consideration, leaning over her and clenching his jaw before giving an opinion. She'd simply roll her eyes or scowl at him prior to shoving the video into his hands and walking away. Of course the best opportunity he had was when the storm broke, in a flash of light and crash of sound the heavens opened and it poured, the sudden din startling Willow and Spike had jumped at the chance to almost crush her against the shelves of the video isle they were in. He'd smirked down at her, their bodies intimately pressed together and she'd patted his shoulder reassuringly and told him that there was nothing to be frightened of it was just a storm. The smirk turned into a snarl and she walked away from him again, leaving him to follow.

Spike wasn't sure why he spent the next hour following her around the damn store, he could have blamed the storm, perhaps even boredom. Those could even explain his need to trail his fingers across her, attracting her attention or whispering various things in her ear, causing her to giggle and even blush once. But he knew, was certain that it had absolutely nothing to do with the 'ride them like ponies' comment that kept echoing about his mind.

Nope, nothing at all.

Nor did it have anything to do with the fact that she just kept walking away. Time and time again he'd corner her and with some sharp remark, she'd grin at him and walk away. Nobody walked away from him and he couldn't work out why he was letting her do it...okay, that was a lie, he just loved to watch her walk in those leather pants, even if her ass was covered by her jacket. Maybe it was her comments, like saying he was obsessed with sex, pointing out that he'd picked up nearly every video that had some type of phallic symbol on the cover and suggesting, in her subtle way, that he was gay. It hadn't helped that he'd been holding onto a video with a lighthouse on the cover at the time, a quick glance down at the gigantic cock-like structure with the little square cottage attached to the side of it certainly seemed to agree with her theory. He'd had to resort to name calling again after that.

Of course there was one advantage to following her around and holding onto the selected videos. Or so he thought until they ended up at the front desk, having the videos scanned and she hit him, hard.

"What the hell was that for?" Spike bellowed, scowling down at her.

"You swapped covers on the video," Willow stated through gritted teeth.

"Does it matter? It's a period piece," he smirked, rubbing his chest where she'd landed the solid blow. "Has lot's of corsets, feathers pretending to be writing implements and people wandering around going 'how frightfully frightful'."

"'The Draughtsman's Contract' is not suitable for a fifteen year olds birthday party. These girls aren't getting anything above a PG13 rating," Willow declared, smiling at the cashier as she was handed her change. Spike stretched over the counter, picking up "Sleepy Hollow" before the clerk had a chance to put it in the bag and waved it in front of her...the R rating clearly visible. Snatching it away from him, Willow handed the video back to the clerk and did her best to ignore her blond shadow as he followed her through the security system so she could collect the videos from the other side. "There's always an exception."

"Yeah, right," smirked Spike, pulling out his cigarettes as she tucked her wallet away and sighed at the rain that was still dribbling outside. "'The Draughtsman's Contract' would've been a damn sight more fun than all the sappy crap you got them."

"Oh please, they're fourteen and fifteen year olds. It's either sappy crap, as you put it, or scary crap and they've got both in 'Sleepy Hollow'," she insisted even as Spike rolled his eyes and shook his head, his opinion of scary being slightly different to some headless goon riding around chopping off heads. "Buffy and Joyce were very specific that they didn't want to have scary stuff. Besides, they're girls...news flash, we like sappy stuff."

"Oh yeah, you lot are all love letters, flowers and chocolates," Spike said sarcastically, lighting up a cigarette and giving the scowling young cashier the one finger salute. "The next thing you'll be telling me is you're all dying for some snot to write poetry and moon over you. None of you soddin' pieces like that shit."

Spike ground his teeth together, so lost in his own thoughts that the soft voice beside him startled him.

"Oz used to write me songs," she admitted quietly. Spike turned and she was totally oblivious that he was watching her as she continued to stare out the glass doors at the rain. "Kind of like poetry, if you wanted to make comparisons, and I...well, I treasured them," she shrugged and dropped her head down, twisting the bag of videos in her hand, banging them against her leg. "There's nothing more romantic than having someone who loves you so much that they are willing to give you their thoughts, their words..."

Spike stared, he couldn't help it.

"When everything is said and done, memories fade but those words, the thoughts and emotions they represent, you always have them," Willow sighed and glanced up at the cerulean gaze firmly fixed on her. "I...I guess that's just me though, everyone has their own opinion about what's romantic."

The cigarette continued to smolder, unnoticed in his fingers, the ash falling from the glowing tip. He couldn't move, he was caught between her words and the green eyes, enthralled by the uninhibited emotions they held.

"Rain's stopped, pet," Spike stated, turning away and pushing open the door as the store manager started to make her way towards them to protest about smoking in the store. Gallantly, he held the door open for the witch, in fact he just wanted to catch another glimpse of the red leather. He was content to follow her back to the house, smoking his cigarette lost in the view of the long legs moving in leather as his thoughts spun. There were too many comments to consider, too many conflicting ideas and they were all centered on the witch in front of him. So much so that it was a total shock to Spike as they walked through the front door of the Summers residence.

And it was a sight for sore eyes as Willow slipped off her jacket, bearing her back and ass to him once more and he sighed audibly as she tossed the jacket onto one of the lounge chairs. The sight of those wonderful red leather pants obliterated any conflicting thoughts or emotions.

"What?" asked Willow, frowning at him over her shoulder.

"Nothing," Spike stated, slipping off his duster and chucking it down to cover her coat, plonking himself back down on the couch. It was the only place to be, he had a clear view of the witch as she went about her business, bending over in those tight pants to arrange the hired videos, tidying up the various bits and pieces that needed fixing for the party. Conversation was easy while he watched her, it was nothing important, just teasing comments, trying to get a response...none of it seemed to work though and he wondered if he was losing his touch. It was when she brought out the bowls of sweets and chips that the real trouble started.

Spike was hungry. The chips and sweets did nothing for him though. He had a yearning that he was sure the Summers residence could satisfy. Idly, he pushed himself off the couch, turning in the general direction of the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Willow asked, stepping in front of him, alarmed at his sudden need to vacate the couch and disrupt her party headquarters.

"Going to make some popcorn," Spike leant over her and pursed his lips. "Got to have something to eat while you dillydally around."

"Don't even think about it mister," Willow narrowed her eyes, giving him the best threatening look she could muster. "The girls are not going to be short of popcorn just because you got hungry."

"You offering me something else to snack on then?" he was certain that would make her step aside. Instead, she looked contemplative, her fingers straying to her neck.

"Well, if you could puncture the package..."

"One day," he growled, taking a step closer. "I will...until then, popcorn."

"No," stated Willow. "There are 25 individual serves of popcorn in that kitchen and they are specifically for the girls. I'm serious, Spike," she warned as he tried to brush past her. "Don't make me hurt you."

"Yeah, that'll be the day," he chuckled. It was the wrong thing to say, she kicked his knees out and pushed him with all her strength, sending him sprawling onto the solid coffee table. "Hey!"

"I may not be the Slayer," she stated, standing in front of him, legs spread, chastising him with a wagging finger. "But I can still levitate wood and call on the four elements. Remember, fire's not your friend."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes, touch the popcorn and you die."

That was it...she was going down. Lunging, he caught her hips, pulling her down onto his lap. There's nothing like physical contact to catch a person or vampire off guard, he didn't expect that she'd not keep her balance and end up head butting him, which of course meant that he'd hurt her. The cry of pain was simultaneous.

"Ow, bloody hell," Spike hissed holding his forehead while the other was firmly clamped about Willow's naked waist. He leant forward, resting his head on her shoulder, listening to the teasing pounding of her heart. "You going to kiss it better, love?"

"Oh please," scowled Willow, too busy with her own pain to really care about his.

"One day you'll be begging me..."

Willow warily glanced sideways at the blond, her head pounding from the blow. This was just the perfect ending to a horrible night. All night she'd put up with it, the constant innuendo, and she was fed up. Time to turn the tables and see how he liked it. Payback was a bitch and tonight its name was Willow.

"I bet," she whispered to him, dropping her fingers down to play with his t-shirt. "I could make you beg."

Suddenly the pain stopped, the fingers stroking his chest circled and moved lower, continuing down to caress his belt buckle. Bet? Beg? Maybe the chip was starting to mess with his hearing.

His eyes dropped down, watching her pale fingers run across the black leather and silver buckle. If this was a chip malfunction he was starting to like it...then again, she could just be playing.

"I never beg," Spike was willing to see how far she was going to go. Hell, if they both ended up naked all the better!

"According to you," she smiled slightly, her fingers curling about the leather, pulling it free of the buckle and she bit her bottom lip. "Maybe you've been begging the whole time and not known it."

Spike growled, his hands encompassing her hips and pulling her in sharply against him, grunting at the sensation, her fingers still fiddling with his belt. "Perhaps you're the one who's been begging, Red."

"Did I say you could touch me?" her voice was cold and demanding, the green eyes narrowing in anger and Spike chuckled.

"Oh come on, little girl. You can't even begin to understand how to play this game," laughter tainted his voice as he kept his hands on her hips, giving a squeeze to aggravate her. She bowed her head, meekly tilting it to the side to glance up at him with big innocent eyes, a tiny smile gracing her lips.

"You shouldn't underestimate me, Spike," she whispered, making him raise an eyebrow. It was a moment of grace for the vampire before he was slammed back against the coffee table, his hands suddenly above his head and his eyes widened in shock as his leather belt wrapped about them. The leather was tugged tight and she dragged herself across his prostrate form and he had to bite back a moan of pleasure as she sat astride his stomach. Okay, maybe he had underestimated her and dear god, why the hell did she have to wear a top when her breasts were so close to his mouth...hang on, what the hell was she doing? The leather tightened again and he grunted, flexing his fingers and coming in contact with the heavy wooden leg of the coffee table. He tugged and his hands didn't move. "Bad boy."

Bad boy?

"Oh, baby, you don't know how bad I can be," Spike smirked, if she wanted to play he was more than up for a round...literally. He was just dying for her to back up, run that wicked leather clad ass over him, it'd make him growl. But she didn't.

"I loathe being called 'baby', makes my skin crawl," Willow ran her flat palm across his chest until she found one of his nipples, surprisingly hard under the soft cotton, and twisted it between thumb and forefinger. Spike scowled at her, tucking the information away, and trying to dislodge her by bucking his hips. Unfortunately, her position on his stomach meant it had no effect, she tutted and shook her head. "Silly boy...don't you want to play?"

Spike raised an eyebrow, oh he'd show her how to play and she'd forfeit to him. Half-heartedly he twisted his wrists, testing the strength of the leather, and it tightened, digging into the flesh. Clenching his jaw, he watched her. Those damn green eyes were fixed on him, looking through him, her fingers exploring his chest and worst of all she was slowly rocking her hips to move back down his body. Fine, let her have her five minutes of fun, of superiority, then he'd bust the damn belt and show her exactly how to make someone beg...and what did she think she was doing?? Where the hell had the silk scarf come from?

"You know," she slipped her hips back, making him moan, her breasts coming to rest on his chest and she dragged the scrap of silk along his face. "I love sensation and nothing heightens it more than disabling one of the senses..."

And then there was darkness for him. Surrounded by warmth, sound and smell, he'd succumb to the siren's song and was drowning in her. The fingers dragging over his face, so warm they burnt a path, meandering down his neck and...and...oh dear lord, she was sliding down his body, he could feel every single inch of movement, knew when leather came in contact with denim and then there was that gorgeous broad expanse of hot flesh.

Spike groaned, arching up into the contact as she kept sliding downwards. In her wake was a trail of hot air, her panting breath burning through the fabric of his t-shirt and...fingers, oh yeah, the fingers were working on his jeans, pulling the fly apart and making him arch up into her palm.

"Oh...my..."

Spike smirked, angling his hips to get more pressure as the heat of her breath brushing across his groin made his erection throb even more. He'd let her play for a little while longer and then she'd be saying so much more than 'oh my'. The fingers left his groin and he growled, disappointed as the digits continued downwards, stopping to play with his boots.

Then there was nothing. Spike listened intently waiting for her next move...the soft creak of leather. He bit his tongue and clenched his fists. Undoubtedly she was inching her way out of those red leather pants. What he would give to be free of the damn blindfold so he could watch...he could imagine how much bloody wiggling and writhing she'd have to do just to get them down and then there was that whole having nothing on underneath and the...

Click.

Click? Creaking leather to click?

"Willow."

Silence, complete and utter silence.

"Love?"

Spike waited, but there was absolutely nothing. He tugged on his hands and his feet got pulled back.

"What the fuck?"

Of course no one answered and he tried pulling his booted feet from their lowered position, the leather tightened painfully around his wrists.

"Bloody little witch," he hissed, realizing she'd linked the two together somehow. He was going to kill her. She'd left him, tied down to the bloody coffee table with his jeans undone and...and...and the jeep roared as it pulled into the driveway.

"RED!!!!"