Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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BtVS/AtS Het FicaThon

Yes. Done.

For topazangel's Het FicaThon. . .

This is for furblewig
who asked for Spike/Willow
Dark fic/abuse of magic
no addiction metaphor

*hangs head in shame*

And it was due May 1st.

So let's all pretend that it is May 1st. Okay? And I'm on time.

I hope that you enjoy it.

Vodka Tonic with a Twist
by Snow
Another Not for Profit Venture

Spike hung naked in front of her. Enchanted cords tied to his wrists and ankles held him spread eagle between two cement posts that did not belong in his crypt. Sweat and blood dripped from his body and she liked the color that the two made as they pooled near his feet.


Willow stood outside the tomb. The summer night surrounded her and though she was not cold, a shiver raced down her spine. This was not a good place to be at night, in Sunnydale, alone. But she was drawn to this. By curiosity, by want, by an itch that needed scratching.

She knew Spike was inside the building. She had made sure of that, before even coming here. She shook herself, made her body move despite whatever sensibilities her mind was screaming. She started scattering herbs on the ground at the entrance, her soft voice chanting.


She ran a finger from the hollow of his throat, down his slick chest to the tip of his hard dick and brought it up to her mouth. Salty, sweet candy and pre-come. His sharp blue eyes watched her every movement.

She picked up the straight razor that she had used on his arms and shoulders, delineating the lines of his biceps while being careful to miss any major arteries. She did not want to drain him, just play.

“It's true vampires don’t scar?”

She asked, the razor hovering above his skin.

“So I could put my name right here?”

The tip pierced him and a drop of red welled up and skated down his abdomen. The idea of marking Buffy’s boyfriend, of leaving the gift of her name carved into the flesh of her best friend’s lover made her smile, but it would not last. It probably would not be there the next time they had sex. The smile faded, as though it had never been there.


Willow had never used this spell before, did not totally know what the effects would be on her, or her intended target. After stumbling upon it in an old diary, discovered amongst the books of the magic shop, it had taken two months to find the courage to even actually consider trying it.

Two months of listening to Buffy’s daily whine about her love life. Two months of biting her tongue. Of capturing the words back into her throat that begged to be released when she would start going on and on about missing Angel, not being sure about Spike, wondering if Riley was okay.

‘Will you shut the fuck up?’

She could not say that. She could not say anything, but offer her support, her shoulder, her sympathy. Sharp retorts, snappy comebacks, smart-ass remarks were not expected, nor wanted from Willow. She was the ‘best friend’. She was the ‘side kick’. She was the morally upright, painfully politically correct Scoobie. She was not this girl standing outside Spike’s tomb in the middle of the night, creating a spell that would let her control the vampire. This was not shy, always smiling, ever positive, Team Member Willow.


It was.


She had stripped out of the last of her clothes, throwing them to the floor. She left on the high heels though. She loved the sense of power they gave her. The way they made her legs longer, her butt tighter and rounder, her small breasts stand out in front of her. The echo the stiletto heels made against the stone walls when she stepped around to stand behind Spike, the carriage whip dangling from one hand. She had to balance carefully on them though, her arm flailing the leather back and forth. Cracking it against his white, white skin.

His blood covered her. It had been too much to resist to not step up to his bleeding back, rub her breasts against the cuts, listen to his quiet hiss of pain as she mixed their sweat. She traced every single wound she made with her tongue and his cock had only grown harder and harder. She did not think that was a side effect of the spell, but enjoyed the sight.


Willow was so tired of always being the good girl, of always being the nice one. She could feel all the anger she had bottled up over the years, the loneliness, the confusion, the pain. It had all stewed into a simmering rage. Every time she learned a new spell she could feel her power expand inside of her. It would nudge the bottle. Splinters in the glass.

She finished the incantation, reveling for just a moment in the rush that always came to her when she used her skill. The tingle that started in her palms, worked its way up her arms, the warmth that seemed to flow from her uterus into her very soul. It felt so good, so right, so powerful. It felt as if she could do anything.

Willow picked up her backpack and opened the tomb’s door just enough to slip inside. She sparked a simple spell to lock the door behind her, just to keep any unwanted //Buffy// visitors out. She stepped quietly down the stairs, an old oil lamp lit the room, casting warm light and shadows against the walls and the cobweb filled corners. Spike sat in his chair, facing her, his face expressionless, his eyes watching her.


Willow whispered, at once both supremely confident that the spell had worked and terrified that it had not. He still had the military’s chip in his head. He could not hurt her. She knew that much, but he was still a vampire and she was completely alone, here with him. She cleared her throat and spoke again, not whispering this time.

“Stand up.”

She hated the way her ‘firm’ voice still sounded soft and questioning, but could not help smiling at the results. She heard the rustle of leather pants as Spike stood up from his chair, his arms hanging down at his sides. When she realized that he had not said her name or questioned her presence in his place, Willow knew that the spell had worked.


She watched the blood run from the cut she had just made and set the blade aside. Spike closed his eyes, opened them again when she touched his cheek.

“You’re so handsome, you know. Even in pain. Especially in pain.”

Her fingers softly traced the bones of his face, his lips. She carefully knelt in front of him, licking the tip of his cock. Her tongue drawing a line on the vein that pulsed on the underside. She sucked him deep into her mouth, felt his hips push against her. She wrapped her hands around his thighs, dug her nails into the welts and torn flesh. She closed her eyes as she moved her mouth up and down him. She deliberately scraped him with her teeth, felt the shudders run through him as her teeth broke the delicate, thin skin found there.

Suddenly she stopped and stood back up. His eyes were still watching her. She wiped some droplets of his blood from her chin with the back of her hand.


Willow walked over to him, dropped her backpack at their feet as she stood in front of him. She felt strong and hot and filled with nasty thoughts.

“Kiss me.”

Spike leaned into her, touched his cool lips on hers for an instant. A flash of rage pulsed through Willow and she gritted her teeth together. It was not his fault. The spell had worked. She had to be specific, if she was to get what she wanted. If she was to get what she needed.

“Kiss me with passion. With desire.”

His hands were suddenly hard on her waist, she was pulled into his embrace. Spike crushed his mouth against hers, sucking at her tongue. She could taste the scotch he had been drinking, the cigarettes he had been smoking. He held the back of her head, his fingers buried in her hair.

“Stop, Spike. Stop.”

As fast as he had grabbed her, he let go. His eyes still watching, he waited. Willow found it a little unnerving. She had never willingly been this close to him, to any vampire. Just inches from his smooth, pale face. His light blue eyes never leaving her own. Perhaps it was the lack of breathing.

Willow took one step back. It was time to get down to business. Time to do what she had come here to do.


Her hand dropped down to his cock. She gave it a tug,

“I want this inside of me,”

twist and pull, nothing gentle about her grip or touch.

“Are you ready to give it to me?”

Not that she had recalled that part of him ever being less than eager since she had entered. Still Spike did not speak, just kept his eyes locked on hers, his face as expressionless as it had been.

She whispered a few words and the bonds that held Spike disappeared, then the cement posts. The vampire stumbled forward, catching his balance from his sudden freedom. He stood still in front of her, his arms at his side.

Willow felt a small twinge of uncertainty run through her and before she could stamp it down heard herself speaking,

“Do you want me?”

She hated the weak, pleading way it came out. Spike leaned into her, his lips barely touching hers.

His voice was a low, slow growl against her.


He sighed and she felt his arms around her. He pushed her back to his small, rumpled bed. She fell onto it and he was on top of her, inside of her before she could even take a breath. His skin was cool on hers, his blood slicked them both and she clung to his back, pulling him deeper. Spike buried his face in the hollow of her neck, his mouth sucking on hot, sweaty skin.

Madness. Lunacy.

Need. This. Now.

Willow came around his cock, screamed his name, thrashed under him, scratching him deeply with her fingernails. He kept going until they were both suddenly passive, finished, drained. He rolled off and she gasped as he slipped out of her.

Spike grabbed an open bottle of vodka off a scarred nightstand. Willow watched his throat work as he drank.

“Want some, luv?”

She nodded and he handed it to her. It burned going down and she choked and coughed.

“Thanks for the tumble.”

He smiled, set the bottle back and reached for a pack of cigarettes. Willow could not move. He should not be able to do anything without her telling him. Spike smiled back at her.

“Next time you might want to check if that spell works on vampires.”


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