Title: Willow by Night
Author: meagan <nutmeg@serv.net>
Summary: Spike realizes he has certain feelings for Willow (but I'm willing to bet it's not what you think). Set, oh, let's say four years from now.
Spoilers: Bits of rumors for season 4 (I'm ignoring other parts, though)
Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. If they were mine, things would be different. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB (even though they *really* don't deserve these guys after what they did to us in May), and anyone else I forgot.
Rating: I'm going to guess PG.
Distribution: Please ask.
Feedback: Um, sure, I think. But meanness makes me cry. My kitties don't like it when I cry. Keep them happy, please?
Notes: Inspired by the song "Karen by Night" by Jill Sobule, although you wouldn't know it from the way things turned out. The specific line in question was "The leather comes out under the moonlight." I've been dealing with way-too-angsty stuff (even a nice, short, fluffy PWP turned into a major ordeal that still isn't done), and I wanted to make something a bit happier. This ended up being a heck of a lot sappier and cheezier than I had planned. Oh, well.

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"Are you sure you want to do this?" Oz's voice was hopeful but cautious.

Willow took one last look at the mirror. When the vampire version of her had appeared during their senior year of high school, she had seen what leather looked like on her body, but she hadn't had a chance to see what *she* looked like in it. And she knew there was a difference. The slight change in Oz's posture -- and the joy that lit his face -- when she gave him that little wave to let him know that was *her* and not the vampire had been proof. It had stuck in her mind this whole time even though she had never been able to work up the nerve to wear anything like that since. "Yeah." She turned from the mirror. "Are *you* sure?"

"No." Her heart fell. He didn't like the outfit after all. "Personally, I think we should lock ourselves away from the world for the weekend while I let you have your way with me. But we promised them, and if we want them to do stuff we want in the future, we have to keep our end of the bargain." His fingers stroked the small bit of skin at her waist exposed between the top of her pants and the bottom of the bustier. "Besides, we get to keep the clothes."

Good point. They were both encased in cow hide. It was the first time in ages that she had seen Oz in clothing other than his extremely casual jeans/t-shirts/overshirt combinations. He had been given black leather pants, a forest green silk shirt, and a black leather overcoat. A very lovely outfit that complemented her own black leather pants and forest green bustier. They both wore black engineer boots. Stylish yet still extremely functional if they had to fight. The duo had been asked to play parts for Angel -- hipster couple. Their jobs were to hover and grope each other. Oh, the sacrifices they made for the forces of good. It seemed that this particular bad guy -- a human, for a change -- was distracted by public displays of affection -- well, okay, lust -- and tended to spill all secrets when confronted with such spectacles. Other bad guys could be plied with liquor, but this guy had to be different.

"Are you two ready?" Spike sauntered into the room. He had been the one to select their clothing. His job was to interrogate their target while the guy was watching Oz and Willow, and he wanted to make sure the couple looked as enticing as possible. He noticed Willow adjusting the top of the bustier, trying to arrange the sides so they weren't digging into her. Suddenly, he realized exactly what the phrase "jiggled fetchingly" meant. Oh, yes, good clothing selection. Even if he had been seized by the inexplicable and sudden urge to throw a blanket over the two redheads and lock them away together, safe and sound from any threats from the supernatural world. Or any other threat. And he would be their defender. He decided she needed one more small adjustment. Her hair. It needed to be pulled up. Deftly, he twisted it up, securing it with lacquered chopsticks. Dru had taught him a few useful things. Dru. He missed her, but she had consumed all of his energy. He had felt suffocated. It was one thing to pick out an occasional outfit or help with an updo once in a while. It was another to be the only reason for someone else's existence. He hadn't realized just what a daunting job that was until she had taken him back after the whole Brazil mess. His time alone had been spent obsessing about getting her back, but once that happened, his dreams had not matched reality at all. And so he went in search of a better life, finding it back in good old Sunnydale. Helping the Slayer fight the Council of Watchers and the other assorted evil critters set on world domination and/or destruction. It was great fun. Sure, he was fighting with the forces of good, but at the same time, he wasn't really an officially sanctioned player. He got a kick out of it -- bad guy fighting for good but also running with a rebel team. He liked to think of himself as Han Solo. Hair styling completed, he turned Willow back to the mirror, resting his hands on her hips. "Okay?"

She nodded. It was strange to not see him in the mirror, but his hands felt very comfortable resting on her body. Protective. She had been nervous about the evening. Not the Oz part. The distraction part. What if the guy decided he wanted to do more than watch them? But Spike would be keeping an eye out for them. He would be able to control the situation. They would be okay. For some reason, when he arrived in town for the third time way back during their freshman year of college, Spike had decided to take the two redheads under his wing. And when Spike decides to do something, cooperation was the only way to go. Oz took her hand, and they were on their way.

~~~~

The club was dark, of course, but Spike was easy to spot. He was the bleached blond gesturing loudly and ranting about the beer. "What the hell do you mean, Bud or Bud Light? I want real beer! Brutal Bitter. I like that name. Or maybe Fat Tire Amber or Mud Shark Porter." Finally, he noticed Willow and Oz, smirking at him from across the bar. Leave it to Spike to make something as simple as locating him in a dark, crowded bar into a theatrical event. "Never mind. Just give me a whiskey sour."

Drink in hand, he meandered over to join his conversation partner for the evening, a boring man named Roy who considered himself to be absolutely fascinating simply because he dabbled a bit in magick. Spike itched to see Roy go up against Willow in a magickal fight. The man would go *down*. And Spike would be kicked back sharing popcorn with Oz while watching the spectacle.

"Just look at those two." Roy had noticed Oz and Willow and was studying them intently. They had taken their place next to the booth and were well on their way to fulfilling their part of the bargain. Her hands were hidden under his coat doing who knows what, and one of his was working its way under her bustier while the other was slowly pulling the chopsticks from her hair, sending it tumbling to her shoulders. Oz's mouth was slowly working its way up her throat to her ear. "I would say they need to get a room, but it's more fun to watch."

Spike realized he was clenching his fists. He *really* didn't like the way this sleaze's eyes were roaming over his young friends. "Yeah, they do look good together." And they did. Anyone could see that they were meant for each other. Maybe Spike could distract him from the pair. He sighed. They were there specifically so the scum -- human, but scum nonetheless --could watch them, and suddenly he was seized with a nearly overwhelming urge to whisk them away to safety. Nice way to blow the whole scheme. The one that he himself had thought up in the first place. "So just why exactly are you in town again?" Casual, as if wondering just how long he would be around to drink and shoot the breeze. Get the information and get out. Stick to the plan, and no one gets hurt. And if either of his charges were hurt, there would be hell to pay.

His *charges*? Where the hell had *that* come from? They're more than old enough to take care of themselves. But gazing over at the two in leather, he realized he felt responsible for them. And it wasn't limited to this particular evening. If anything happened to them, he would delight in destroying whatever was responsible for the damage. And then he would deliberately piss off Buffy so she would kill him. He didn't deserve to exist if he allowed those two to be hurt.

So he decided to keep a careful eye on things. It had been his idea, after all, even if Angel had been the one to approach them. He observed Willow perched on the ledge next to the circular booth. He watched as she wrapped her legs around Oz's hips, pulling him closer to her.

He noticed a flash as light hit her left hand as she pulled her hands away from Oz's body and proceeded to weave them through his hair.

How the hell had he managed to not notice that before? Who else knew about that little chunk of compressed carbon resting on her left ring finger? Suddenly, his feelings became clear. He intended to dance at the redheads' wedding. Or at least the reception. If he had his choice, he would walk her down the aisle and be the one to hand her over to the man she was currently groping. It wouldn't happen, of course, but he at least wanted to tell her about that particular fantasy. And he wanted to see their children. Their beautiful children, with her eyes and his temperament. And the intelligence of them both.

He realized that Roy was speaking. "I was just passing through. On my way to a... gathering in Oregon." Spike knew about the gathering, but he also knew that Roy was on his way to Oregon from Washington state. California was just a tad out of the way. "And I have a little job to do before I get there." Roy grinned, an image that made even Spike a bit nervous. "There's a Brit around here that the organizers of the gathering want gone. He used to be a librarian at a high school around here before it was mysteriously blown up a few years ago. See, something big was supposed to happen that day, and this guy helped stop it. He's become even more powerful and important since then even though he doesn't have any official supporters. He needs to be gone by Monday."

A British librarian who helped in something mysterious that had resulted in a demolished high school. Attempting to act as casually as possible, Spike asked, "So do you happen to know the name of this guy?"

"Oh, yeah." Roy turned his attention to Spike. The vampire's gaze was on the couple engrossed in each other. "Rupert Giles." Roy had expected some sort of reaction. His conversation partner was not a complete unknown to him, after all. He was aware that this guy had once been known as William the Bloody. He had learned all the best torture techniques from Angelus. He was familiar with Slayers and Watchers. There was a *reason* Roy had sought him out for this little chat. He wanted a partner.

Unfortunately, he had not done his homework thoroughly enough. He had stopped researching things once he determined that Spike and Drusilla had made it out of Sunnydale alive after the Acathla incident. Spike turned his attention away from the floor show formerly known as Willow and Oz. "Really." He stood, stretching like a cat. "I happen to know Rupert Giles quite well." Roy grinned. A killer, trained by Angelus, who just happened to know the man that had to die. "And as a matter of fact, Rupert Giles is a friend of mine." The grin faded as Spike leaned over the booth, hands planted on the tabletop. "And he's a friend of those two." He indicated the lovebirds. The duo noticed Spike's agitation. They also noticed that Roy would have to pass either them or Spike if he wanted to leave. "And anything that hurts them hurts me. So you're going to have to get gone now."

Roy laughed, a mirthless sound. Sure, Spike could cause him irreparable harm if he tried to pass the vampire, but what could those two kids do? He stood, planning on brushing casually by the two and making a clean getaway. Then he would just go tell the organizers that this Rupert Giles had an unexpected defender in the form of the soulless vampire that he had been told would be a help rather than a hindrance. They would just have to understand. Except when he passed by the male, a hand darted out and held him in place. A hand that was much stronger than he had expected considering the build of the body attached to it. He turned to leer at the female still sitting on the ledge, but her leg shot out and caught him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The action was so rapid that anyone watching would most likely think that he had simply had some sort of attack -- heart attack, overdose, something like that. It wouldn't be the first time such a thing had happened in that particular bar. And it wouldn't be the last. Then everything went black as the blond he had thought would help in his quest to destroy the former Watcher bent down for the kill.

~~~~

"Spike, I *really* don't like it when you kill people." Willow paused. She had a lecture all ready for him, and he seemed more than willing to let her unleash it on him. "But in this instance, you'll get special dispensation. Thank you." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

He beamed for a moment before carefully arranging a scowl. "You've been keeping secrets from me." At her confusion, he gently pulled her left hand from his neck, bringing it into her line of vision.

"Oh." She stared at the ring, as if unable to believe it was really there. "Oz?"

Her boyfriend stepped forward. "No one knows, Spike. I just asked her tonight. We've been discussing it for ages, but nothing was definite until now. So can you keep a secret?"

"For you two? Anything." And he meant it. He would even let his hair go back to its natural color if they asked. "So have you discussed a date yet?"

A quick glance passed between the two humans -- well, non-vampires. "Actually, yes." Willow was reverting back to her old shyness. Spike didn't like it, but he knew that it wouldn't last long. "How would you like to go to Las Vegas tonight? If we leave now, we can get there before sunrise, and then we can leave tomorrow after sunset." He was silent. She interpreted it as displeasure with the plan. "Please?" She was ready to beg.

"On two conditions." She nodded, expecting some insurmountable obstacle that would dash all hopes and dreams. "First, the wedding must be performed by an Elvis impersonator."

Oz grinned. "That's why she pushed for Vegas."

"Ah." So it was Willow's idea. His respect for the witch just kept growing. He turned to face her. "Second, I want to walk you down the aisle. I know it's not exactly what you planned, but it would mean a lot to me."

Her response was to pick up her bags and stride over to the door without saying a word. She deposited the luggage in the car and returned to the room. Then she turned to Oz, smiling broadly. "I told you so." She walked out of the room again. "So are you guys coming or what? We'd better get going if we expect to make it in time. Even with Spike driving, we're going to be pushing it. And I can't get married by myself."

~~~ the end ~~~