The Bet

Well, I did it again. Wrote something while mostly asleep. Thinking of a prequel to Weird Dreams was hard! So, I dreamed of something... modified it (it started as a Willow/Angelus!)... and woke up, grabbed the laptop, and wrote this down, then fell asleep again... Anyway - this doesn't really fit directly before Weird Dreams, just know it goes before it... and this'll prolly get a prequel too.

“I don’t believe you can do it, Red.” Spike taunted her, a sly smile on his face.
“Oh, yeah? I bet I can!” She yelled back defiantly, but Spike detected a slight nervous quiver to her voice and his smile widened.
“Then it’s a bet. If you can somehow succeed, I’ll give you back your freedom. If you don’t…” he trailed off and watched Willow’s eyes widen in fear. “Well, well, not as brave as she looks, eh? Tell you what, I’ll make it easier for you.” He turned around and went through Willow’s confiscated backpack, bringing back a bottle of holy water. He opened it and put it on the table next to him. “Go ahead, luv. I’m ready.”
He’d lied. There was no way he could have been ready for this. As Willow closed her eyes and began to chant in some beautifully foreign language, he tightened his grip on the bottle in fear. He’d been too cocky, and the witch was too powerful. Then she stopped her chant, opened her beautiful green eyes, and locked them straight on his. Reaching out a small, pale hand, she touched the floor lightly – and his cheek began to burn. He clapped his hand to it and felt the slightly swelling trail that lead down his cheek and neck. But somehow he could not draw his eyes away from Willow’s. The pattern she traced on the floor was somehow being mirrored on his body, and he noted the burning of his skin as he pulled off his duster, then the rest of the clothing of his upper body, breaking the spell for a slight instant as the black shirt passed over his head, but he was too mesmerized to do much more than glance down at his lightly muscled chest to see the reddened pattern there before looking back into her eyes. The pain was so light he barely noticed it, the heat just mildly uncomfortable – it was more…erotic, and he felt himself becoming aroused as the pattern continued with its feather-light, tracing warmth. He groaned, and Willow faltered slightly, but neither of them cared anymore. He strode towards the cage and opened the door, then pulled her up, breaking the spell. He drew her into his arms, ignoring the slight burst of pain at the pressure against his holy water burns, and kissed her willing mouth, plundering its depths with his tongue. She moaned, and he broke it to let her breathe, unwilling as he was to stop the kiss, but strangely worried for her safety.
“Does…does this mean I won?” she asked, slightly breathless and with a slight touch of melancholy to her voice.
“Yes, Red.” His voice was slightly hoarse with want and quivered in the fear that she would want to leave.
There was a slight silence, filled only with Willow’s deep breaths, and then she spoke again, almost sorrowfully. “Do I have to leave?” Spike answered her question by capturing her mouth with his again, then broke it off to swoop her up and run out of the dungeon… and to the bedroom.

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