A Very Ordinary Evil

Part 17 – The Face of the Enemy


The following day


Willow lay in bed, thinking. She was trying to thinksomesomeone trustworthy who could meet the new contact for the Order of Taraka without revealing who they were reporting back to. She sighed mentally. Anyone they knew well enough to make contact was also well enough known to the local demons as either one of the Scooby gang or one of their friends. It seemed to be a catch 22. She sighed as she rolled over to examine, once again, the motionless body of her sleeping lover. The question would not stop pestering the littedheedhead, but think as she might, she could not think of anyone suitable.

Spike became aware of Willow’s ongoing restlessness. He opened his eyes and looked at her, to see her gazing at him in return. “What luv?” Spike asked, still sleepy.

“Nothing really, I’ve been thinking, racking my brain, trying to come up with someone who would make a suitable stalking horse.”

“Ah. Can I at least get functional first?” As he asked, Spike staggered from the bed, dragged on a pair of shorts and then blearily made his way into the kitchen. He began muttering, ostensibly to himself but actually to amuse Willow. “Bloody hell, nearly a hundred and fifty years old and I still feel like something the cat dragged in when I wake up. You’d think I’d get used to it, no. no. So much for the theory of evolution. If it was true I should used to waking up by now. Darwin was a stupid sod anyway. Didn’t know his arse from breakfast.”

“Spikey!” Willow called from the bedroom in a singsong voice. She tried to smother the giggling fit she had as she called him.

Spike returned to the bedroom, much faster and better coordinated than when he had left. “Damn it Red, do I ever call you Willy?”

Willow looked at Spike for a moment and his wordplay suddenly hit her. “Oh you!” She yelled as she threw a pillow at him. Spike ducked and grinned before heading back to the kitchen.

Willow decided that she needed something to help her wake up. Coffee seemed a good idea. She still gave thanks to the Goddess on a regular that she had outgrown her teenage hypersensitivity to caffeine. Realising that she would now need to make it herself, she rolled out of bed. She wandered, still slightly disoriented, into the kitchen. She saw Spike loading the microwave with his breakfast as he scratched himself absent-mindedly. She stood and watched, absorbed by his unconscious grace and his sheer physical beauty. Dressed as he was, in only a pair of shorts she could drink in the image of his body without interference.

Spike felt Willow’s eyes lingering on him as he was warming his blood. He turned, to look at her, and saw her lost in thought. “What’re you thinking pet?”

“Huh?” Spike’s question jolted Willow out of her daydream, but not to full consciousness. “I was wondering how I got to be so lucky.”

Spike sighed as he heard the confusion and self-doubt in Willow’s voice. He also thought back to the discussion about vampires of a week previously and remembered what he thought he had detected. If he had not been so deeply focused at the time, he would have checked then. Now seemed an equally appropriate time though. “Red, if you’re going to keep flogging yourself like this, the least you could do is ask me to do it for you.”

Willow looked at him blankly. “What?”

Spike chuckled as he clarified things for his petite lover. “If you want to be punish yourself for being with me, ask me to do it instead. I’ll give you a damn good spanking.”

Willow felt an immediate rush of desire hit her as Spike spoke. {The idea of being bent over his knee … I am sick. Oh Goddess!}

Spike immediately detected the surge of the redhead’s arousal. He chuckled to himself as he did so. {This is just getting better and better. No need to push things though. It’s a natural part of who she is.}

Spike looked at Willow as her face ran a gamut of emotions from embarrassment to arousal, desire and eventually self-loathing. “Red, love, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Well, another attack of … Can we change the subject, please?”

“No pet, I don’t think so, not this time. Come and sit down.” Spike led an unresisting Willow to the sofa and pulled her onto his lap. “Now, what upset you so much?” He asked gently.

“This is just so embarrassing!”

“What is luv? Just take your time, talk slowly, remember the breathing thing.”

“Promise not to hate me?” Willow’s voice was plaintive, almost scared as she asked.

Spike looked into her eyes, fixing her with his gaze. She was as capable of moving as a rabbit in a spotlight when he spoke. “Nothing you could say would make me hate you, little one.” His voice caressed her just as sensually as his hand would. “Now luv, just start at the beginning, and when you get to the end, stop.”

Willow nodded and gulped. Drawing breath, she began. “A couple of years ago … oh Lady, a couple of years ago, Anya and Xander mentioned something about … spanking.” Willow flushed a beet red. Drawing in a shaky breath, she continued. “The idea sort of … intrigued me. E-e-excited me. When you mentioned it just now …” Willow’s face remained as red as before, but she also looked down, ashamed of what she had just admitted.

“Is it really surprising luv?” Spike asked her. “Think for a moment about how you used to react to your parents’ attempts at discipline. This comes from the same place. I know that at the moment you must feel like a freak. You aren’t though.” Spike reached out to gently lift her chin and he kissed her, very softly, on the lips. “Remember, this was always part of who you are. It was there before you told me. You haven’t changed. You’re still the Willow I fell in love with.”

“B-b-but I’m a pervert. I’m disgusting.” Willow’s shell of self-esteem shattered again as she tried to understand why Spike could still possibly care for her.

“Okay pet, now listen to me. Can you trust me until sunset? Can you accept that I love you until then?” Willow nodded, mute from fear. “At sunset, we’ll go shopping. To a bookstore, and I’ll buy you a present or two. Deal?” Once again, Willow could only nod.

* * * *

As sunset neared, Spike and Willow got ready to go shopping. As they were about to leave, the telephone rang. Willow picked up the handset “Hello?”

“Willow? It’s Giles here.”

The little witch giggled slightly. “I can tell it’s you by your accent, Giles. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a potential … errr … recruit for us to use. Can you come around?”

Willow covered the handset as she asked Spike, “How long for the shopping?”

“Dunno, pet, anr mar maybe?”

“Giles, can we get there at around, say, ten or so?”

“That should be … acceptable.” Giles answered. He kept his voice even and calm. He had really wanted them immediately, though.

Spike and Willow drove off, heading for the shopping precincts. After parking, they walked towards some of the local bookshops. After several false starts, they reached the one shop Spike was seeking; it was gloomier and less frequented than most. Leading her to the back of the store, he looked at the category signs hanging over the shelves.

Willow was surprised when he made a beeline for the back of the shop, Spike moved quickly, almost dragging her as he hurried towards the shelves. When he got to the ‘Relationship’ section, he started scanning through the books at stonstonishing rate. He moved with almost preternatural speed, flicking books one after the other as he thumbed through the stock. He eventually ended up with three books on the floor between his feet. Willow watched, trying in vain to see the titles of the books which he looked through at such speed.

He picked them up and immediately headed towards the checkout. “Hold on, Mister!” Willow snapped.

“What pet?” Spike looked confused.

“This is a bookshop, isn’t it?” Willow’s sarcasm was self-evident.

“Uh … yeah?” Spike was now utterly baffled, he had moved well past confused.

“So, the very least you could do is let me look around!”

“Huh?”

Willow sighed. Sometimes people were just so obtuse. “I want to see if there’s anything I want to read in here Spike. You know, that thing I do with the little paper things while you’re watching TV.”

Spike looked at her and grinned. “You’re a cheeky brat, aren’t ya.”

Willow responded with what she considered an appropriate level of maturity. She stuck out her tongue and flounced off to the science fiction section.

Spike’s grin broadened. “Red, you wave your bum at me like that again and I’ll spank it for ya!” He called out, making sure that she heard.

Willow blushed once again. She immediately took a deep and abiding interest in the bookshelf in front of her. Unfortunately, it was a shelf on Accountancy, and she immediately realised that her standing there, looking at the books in that shelf was about as believable as Cordelia ever learning tact.

She moved on to the science fiction section and began browsing, looking for something new, but by an author she liked. Spike came up behind her, humming softly but off key. She turned and looked at him. “Can you hold on, I want to get this,” she said, waving a book under his nose as they walked towards the checkout together..

“Sure luv. I’ll just drift out and have a fag.” The shop assistant looked strangely at Spike, but Willow merely nodded.

She paid for her book and joined him. They walked back to the car with his arm over her shoulder, and with Willow leaning slightly in towards Spike. As they entered the car park, she looked up at him and asked “What books did you buy?”

“Wait until we get home pet. We need to get to Giles’ first.”

“All right.” Willow wasn’t particularly concerned about the books Spike had bought, it was just idle curiosity, so she turned on the radio, searching for a tolerable station. {He forgot my presenoughough.} She sighed mentally.

They parked outside Giles’ and immediately went inside. “Sorry we couldn’t get here earlier, Giles … and what is that bastard doing here?” Willow’s unaccustomed swearing halted the conversation as effectively as a runaway goods train.

The bastard in question smiled coldly at Willow. As Spike entered behind the little redhead he stood and offered his hand “Ethan Rayne.”

“I’ve heard about you.” Spike said contemptuously to the Englishman. “Cursed chocolate, Fyarl demons. Imaginative but giddy. Another bloody poof, probably went to a Public School, too.”

Giles looked up, offended. “He went to the same bloody school I did, Rugby.”

“QED.” Spike smirked back at Giles.

“So, Giles,” Willow asked coldly, “Why is this … individual here?”

Giles looked up at her as though she had missed the obvious. Grinning, he said, “Willow Rosenberg, please meet Stalking Horse of the Fukawe.”