Shadows


Author Note: So anyway, I'm watching Hell's Bells right now and while being sad I'm so giddy. Spike melts me. He just melts me. And thus I am back at this keyboard typing this chapter. Hope you like it. Oh, and I can't believe what Tara and Xander wanted to do in this chapter. And this chapter did not get reread by me tonight but I wanted to post so there may be some little changes later.





"I didn't know if I was ever going to get to touch you again," Xander said as Tara pushed him out the door and up against the house. "And tonight," lips fused prevented words for a moment, "you've been driving me crazy."

Tara slid her hands under his shirt and up his chest. "I've been going crazy too. Every night."

He groaned at her breathy declaration and squeezed her closer. "This is so wrong. We're bad people," he mumbled against her lips as he kissed her hungrily.

"So bad," she breathed. "I'm so bad," she said low in her throat, reaching her hand down to grasp the erection that she had wondered about all through dinner. "Hmmm, you feel.." she trailed off, hand stroking him in the tight confines of his jeans.

"What," he croaked, flattening himself against the wall. "What do I feel?" he mumbled.





Buffy slumped a little, her head bowed. But this was Willow. "Willow..." she said supplicatingly.

"Buffy, you can tell me anything," Willow said, wiping a dish dry and setting it aside.

"I invited Spike here tonight," Buffy began slowly. Willow nodded and let her continue. "And I don't know exactly what's going to happen next," she said slowly, unsure of what to say.

"Are you...seeing him..." Willow asked. Buffy didn't answer but scrubbed harder at the dish in her hands. "Because the spell has left lingering traces on us. Don't forget that," she paused and reached for the plate before Buffy shattered it. "It's Spike," Willow said with disbelief as all that name had meant hung in the air.

"I know, I know," Buffy said, handing it over. "A part of me really doesn't want to talk about this with you because maybe it won't be real anymore," she said, searching her friend's face for understanding.

"Buffy, it's not real now," Willow said, laying a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulders.

Buffy shared a look with Willow and neither girl had to say anything. Finally Buffy stepped back and dried her hands as she said in a small voice, "I know," then she turned and walked from the room, muttering an even smaller, "I just don't know," under her breath.

Willow was left alone with the shining clean dishes. She ducked down quickly and opened the cabinet under the sink. The brown paper bag she'd stashed there earlier was a crinkled hump shoved behind the copper piping. Pulling it out she walked determindely to her room, a renewed desire to set things right.

She tucked the bag behind her back as she entered so Tara wouldn't see and was relieved to find the room empty. She knelt down and opened the trunk at the foot of the bed. The ingredients she'd gathered so far were neatly assembled inside. A twice-blessed root of Ardair sat atop the book she'd need for the spell while a bottle of raven's blood was corked beside it and yellow canary feathers poked out from a leather pouch. Plastic baggies held neatly labled amounts of sage, fleabane, rosemary, and Bogen flower. And beside it all was a large bottle full of a dark viscous fluid. She reached inside the paper bag and pulled out a small clay jar. She popped out the cork and a sparkle of gold flashed and evaporated above it. Next she pulled out the long glass stopper of the large bottle. The blue liquid inside smelled faintly of apples. She tipped the gold powder into it and more vinegary smell filled the room. Much closer, Willow thought to herself and recapped the bottles, settling them back into the trunk and closing the lid.

Now where was Tara?





"She came to my crypt," Spike ranted as Clem poured him another drink. "Said we were a couple, she did. No bones about it. Tonight she even set a mug of blood at the table for me. Like it was nothing. But I'm still just a thing to her," he finished, slamming the drink back.

Clem nodded his head understandingly, his ears flopping slightly against his gentle face. "I hear you, Spike. Buffy doesn't treat you right. Serious issues, that one," he said as he settled deeper into the comfy chair, prepared to listen to Spike talk about Buffy. Clem sighed to himself. It was becoming a frequent conversation but he didn't mind too much. It was pretty interesting to know the Slayer on a non-threatening front.

"Damn right she doesn't. Then at the end of the night she tosses me out like yesterday's garbage. 'See you, Spike, don't let Xaaanddeer suspect something'," Spike scoffed, pacing back and forth.

Clem nodded again, watching Spike wear a groove in the floor in front of him. "I think you should confront her. It's not healthy keeping this anger bottled up. And we all know you've had anger management problems in the past."

Spike stopped and looked up. "I didn't have anger management problems," he said in a hurt tone. "I just used to have some bloody fun."

Clem threw up his hands at Spike's look. "I'm just saying," he said evenly, reaching over for a cheese soaked nacho chip.

Spike rolled his head back to look at the ceiling consideringly. He stuck out his arm and Clem filled the dangling shotglass in his hand. Turning to the door he tossed back the drink and stalked out of the crypt. "Maybe you're right," he said without a backward glance before flinging the empty glass into the darkness of the night.

Clem looked slightly worried as he watched Spike vanish. Wondering if the vampire would even be back tonight he flipped on the TV and turned to a three stooges marathon.





Anya slammed three doors on her way to the bedroom and still wasn't satisfied. She plopped down on the bed and waited for Xander to walk into her wrath. He didn't. She waited a few moments, a pout forming on her mouth. Finally she stood and slowly opened the bedroom door. The living room was completely empty. "Xander?"

There was no answer. He wasn't home. He hadn't followed her. She didn't know exactly how to feel about that but she wasn't happy. She sat back on the bed and fell back onto the comforter. She was a messy tangle of anger and desire and frustration inside and it just wasn't fair. Everything used to be so clear-cut. She was mad at Xander because Spike had made those comments. She was mad at Buffy for wanting Spike more than her. She was mad at Spike for being Spike. And she was throbbing. With no Xander for yelling mad release or...other...kinds of relief.

Sitting up straight quickly Anya decided there was still one person who might be able to help. She stood and retraced her path back out into the night.





Buffy crawled into bed. Clean sheets and cotton PJ's. She should be in heaven after sleeping and not sleeping in Spike's dank crypt for the past few days. But she wasn't. The little haven of her room wasn't quite satisfying tonight. Everytime she closed her eyes she saw the hurt look in his eyes just before the anger eclipsed it and he walked away. She hadn't realized how quickly she'd gotten used to having him beside her in the night. She felt lonely and empty in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't pleasant.

But it had been the only way, she told herself again. He didn't play well with others, as witnessed tonight. Her friends wouldn't understand, as seen with Willow. People would freak. She wasn't ready for all that.

She tossed and turned.

She missed him beside her. Wanted him here right now. Somehow that thought just seemed to keep over-riding everything else.





Willow stepped out into the hallway. The house was eerily silent. Everyone was already tucked in bed. Apparently dinner hadn't settled well with everyone.

"Tara?" she called, her brown eyes deep with worry. She moved down the steps slowly, a faint noise coming from the porch. "Tara, is that you?"

Tara looked up into Xander's eyes from her knelt position. They were in the shadows on the porch, invisible to the street, but if Willow came outside....Tara didn't even want to think what would happen then. She drew back, letting him slip from between her lips. She'd never done this before and under normal conditions she probably would have died never having done it, but that warm place that ached for him wanted to bring him pleasure, to see his face convulse with what she could do to him.

"Xander," she breathed softly. A warning and a question. His eyes were shut tight, almost as if in pain but the hand on her head was gentle. It took him a moment to grasp the situation, then his eyes went wild, his body tensing.

"Go, I'll be fine," he choked out.

She could see a drop of moisture bead on the tip of his cock. She felt the thickness in the back of her throat that similar drops had left there. He was so close, the reddened flesh quivering with strain. She dived forward and slid him into her mouth ravenously, sliding her tongue and taking him deep. He groaned as if her were dying and she was the bliss of execution.

Willow's voice got closer and Tara reached up and cupped Xander's balls, feeling the soft warmth as an oddly pleasant male taste filled her mouth. Xander gave a great sighing, "Ahhh," through clenched teeth. He pushed her away slightly as he mumbled, "Don't....Stop....I'm gonna...."

She leaned back and let her hand take the place of where her mouth had been. A stream of pearlescant fluid shot from the tip of his cock, vanishing into the dark fabric of his boxers which cupped his flesh. He was sweating and shuddering and she smiled that she had done that to him.

Willow was almost to the door now and Tara scrambled to her feet. Xander grabbe her arm, stopping her. "What about you?" he asked softly.

"There's always later," she whispered and disappeared into the house.

"What were you doing," Willow asked.

"Just sitting outside," Tara answered quickly. "It's a beautiful night."

"Then let's go out together and sit," Willow said, moving to the door.

"No! No, let's just go to bed," Tara said, a sheepish blush hidden in the darkness of the house.





--->continue