dragonyphoenix

Title: Conjuring Love From the Ashes of an Old Flame
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: It starts out as Spike/Dru and Buffy/Angel, but then there are a couple of love spells so we get Willow/Angelus, Willow/Angel, Willow/Yarn!Spike, Willow/Spike
Rating: R-rated
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: While the sex isn't non-con, with Angelus as a partner it's not like it's going to be lovey-dovey sweet
Summary: Drusilla has a way to bring Angelus back. Unfortunately she needs Spike's ashes to do it.
Note: Written for a bad_swa prompt – conjure
Note: The Spike doll is based on two knitted Spikes by whichclothes
Note: The awesome banner was created by Shaken Silence
Note: Set after Bandy Candy but before Revelations
Note: The Bloodclaim is from witchway's set of stories, Xander on the Menu. Used with permission.

Master Index for the story

The sky was bright with the false dawn by the time Angelus left Willow. “Are you sure I can't come with you?” she asked, unwilling to let him leave.

“I need you to keep up on what Buffy is planning,” he explained.

“But she's not planning anything,” Willow said. “She doesn't even know you're Angelus again.”

“That will change. Now I really do have to go, unless you want your favorite vampire to turn to dust,” he teased.

“No! Go! Get home quickly,” she said, pushing him towards the door.

Willow sat on her bed and looked around the room, her eyes dim with the dread of another long day without Angelus. She didn't have anything to do. It was too early to get ready for school and besides she didn't much feel like it. Seeing her skirt, the one she'd worn the night before on the floor, she knelt down to pull out the Spike doll. As she put her hand in, she felt lips tickling over her palm with ghost kisses, so faint she almost couldn't feel them, but so passionate that the tingling raced all the way up her arm. Pulling out the doll, she held it way from herself but didn't let go. “None of that,” she told it. “I'm sure Angleus wouldn't approve.”

Under the sway of the love spell, Willow couldn't think of how Angelus' treatment of her, ranging from rough and brutal to indifferent, hadn't been that of a lover, but she did allow her pull to Spike more free reign than would have been possible if she'd been certain of Angelus' love. Willow's thoughts turned back to Drusilla's words, “This is my sweet Spikey. We need ashes for the spell.” She thought of the box Drusilla kept in her bag, the handful of ashes she'd taken from that box, and how she'd knotted them into the scarf they'd used in the spell.

“Spike?” she asked, staring at the doll. There was no response, but Willow was sure Spike was in there. She kissed the doll and felt lips kissing her back. “I'll get you out of there, I promise,” she said. Scrounging through her closet, Willow tossed on the the first clothes she found, more concerned with restoring Spike than with how she looked.

“Giles has a few books on vampire lore stored at the library. I just have to get there before he does, since I'm sure he wouldn't be happy with the whole giving you back your body thing.”

She paused at that as it sank in how right Angelus was to keep their love a secret. It felt so necessary to her, she could only dimly understand that others might not approve, that they might actively work to keep her and Angelus apart. “Maybe I shouldn't,” she said. “It would be a risk, taking the books, and if Giles found out he'd want to know why, and then maybe the whole Angelus is alive again thing would come out.” She didn't really know why she was trying to help Spike anyway; it wasn't as though he and Angelus were bestest buds – not from what she'd read in the Watcher diaries anyway – but then her gaze lit on the doll. “I can't leave you like this.” She didn't know why, but she needed Spike to be whole.

“I almost feel that I love you,” she said, trying to diminish her feelings with words, “but that can't be true. I love Angelus. I can't love both of you at the same time.”

After a quick bike trip to the school, Willow found the loose brick near the back entrance to the library and removed the key hidden there. “Good old predictable Giles,” she said. “Now don't you tell anyone about this,” she admonished towards the backpack where she'd stowed the Spike doll to keep him safe from sunlight, just in case it could still hurt him. “We don't need any demons sneaking up on our Scooby meetings.”

Willow quickly found the books she wanted, being on intimate terms with Giles' hidden stash of occult and supernatural references. “This one is about the Bloodclaim,” she told Spike, “where a human and vampire share blood, and it's like this really intense sexual experience, but that doesn't help us. Ooooh, and here's that spell you tried to use on Angel in the church.” She skimmed through the volumes, her attention caught by interesting spells every few minutes, until she heard a noise. Glancing up at the clock, she said, “A quarter after seven. I hope that's not Giles already.” She peeked out of his office but didn't see anyone, so she sneaked to the library doors, and opened them just enough to peer down the hallway. “Just a janitor, but I should probably get out of here before Giles shows up. Looks like we'll have to check out these books at home.”

Once she was settled in her own room again, Willow, nervous that Giles would miss his books and come looking, scanned through them as quickly as she could and found the spell she wanted within ten minutes. “This looks easy enough,” she told the doll. “All I need are your ashes, which are in the bag. At least I hope they are.” She found the box in Drusilla's bag, and tore off the lid, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the ashes inside. “OK, then we need a few herbs, all of which I have, a set of runes – what kind of a witch would I be if I didn't have those – and water from a running source, which since there's a stream out back is no problem.”

About fifteen minutes later Willow was sitting inside a pentagram that was laid out in chalk dust on her bedroom carpet. Smoke rose from the censers where she'd dusted the herbs onto burning charcoal. Sprinkling water towards each of the four corners of the room, she called on ancient forces, “Keepers of Order, Guardians of the Gateway between Life and Death, I call you here.” She tossed the runes and, satisfied with what she saw, continued with the spell. “My Beloved lies torn from me,” she said, not realizing what title she'd given Spike, “trapped in a form not his own. Return unto him his rightful body, which was ruthlessly stolen from him.” Willow took a handful of ashes and let them fall out of her hand onto the runes. Red streams, long and flowing strings of light, reminding her of a tiny Aurora Borealis, flew out of the carpet, twirling around the room, until they focused on the doll, spinning around him so tightly and shining with such force that Willow had to cover her eyes from the blinding light.

“Bloody hell it feels good to move gain.”

Blinking her eyes open, Willow called out, “Spike?”

“Red,” he replied, his voice suddenly husky.

She was so overjoyed to see Spike that Willow barely noticed he was naked, as she threw herself into his arms. “Oh my love,” she said, kissing any part of his face she could reach. “You don't know how hard it's been without you.”

“Hasn't been easy for me either,” he said, grabbing her head still so his lips could meet hers in a proper kiss.

* * *

Drusilla screamed. Angelus, leaping from their bed, scanned the room from a fighting stance. After a moment, not sensing any danger nearby, he turned to Drusilla who, having yanked open the trunk at the foot of the bed, was tossing aside anything she could find: chains, a couple of old dolls she'd long discarded, a deck of Tarot cards. Once the trunk was empty, she stood and gazed around the room, her eyes darting here and there, never setting on any one thing, as if she couldn't even begin to see what she was searching for. “It went wrong,” she said, grabbing Angelus' arm. “I didn't want it to bind you to Willow, but it had to bind somebody.”

“Who could it have bound?”

“I used Spike's ashes. Nobody, nobody, nobody else but Spike,” she said in an almost chant.

“Dru, honey? Spike is dead. If some part of him loves Willow in whatever hell he's ended up in, who cares?” Angelus asked with a shrug.

“Oh yeah,” Drusilla agreed with an uncertain smile, as if part of her was sure they were missing something important.

* * *

Willow let out a dismayed gasp as Spike pulled away. “Shhh, not going anywhere, luv.” His eyes raked down her body so intimately that his gaze felt like a caress. “You've got too many clothes on.”

Willow was so entranced by the sound of his voice, as husky as smoke but as smooth as silk, that it took few moments for his meaning to register. She started tearing off her shirt.

“Hey,” he cried out. Willow stopped, arms akimbo, almost stuck inside her sweater, which was raised high enough that her bra peeped through below. “Allow me,” he added.

He grazed his fingers over her bra, tweaking nipples in passing. When Willow arched forward, pushing into his hand, he gave her a knowing smirk as he moved his hand south, brushing it over her torso in long, lazy spirals.

“Spike,” Willow moaned. “Clothes off now, please?”

“We've got all day,” he replied, slipping a finger under the top of her skirt and tugging down. With his eyes glued to the curve of her hips, revealed as he'd pulled the skirt down, he said, “Um, yeah, you're right.” Willow's world became a blur of pink sweater being pulled up over her face as he added, “Faster is better.” Spike arched a finger under one bra strap, pulling it along her arm, kissing in its wake. Willow tangled her fingers through his hair as he nibbled his way to her neck, and she let out a small moan as human teeth grazed across her jugular, losing track of time in an ecstasy of touches, nibbles, and kisses. She was surprised, but not unpleased, to notice she was naked when he whooshed her up in his arms.

She brought her lips to his, her tongue slipping into his mouth, entranced by the tingling of her lips as he carried her across the room until, with an “ow” from a toe stubbed against the leg of a bed, he pulled his head back. He laid her on the bed reverently, holding her as if she were a precious pearl until he was certain she couldn't fall. “Are you ready for me, my love?”

“Yes.” Willow breathed out the word, as if speaking were almost too much at that moment.

He slipped his thumb along her slit. “Oh, so wet for me.” Brushing his hand over her bush, tickling her short hairs until she squirmed, he said, “Open up, love.” Head followed hand but then paused. When he raised his face to look up at her, lust had been replaced by awe. “You're so beautiful.”

“So are you,” Willow replied.

“Which?” he asked with a confident smile. “Beautiful or your love?”

“Yes.”

Spike gazed at Willow for a moment longer before, unable to resist the siren call of her musk, the heady scent filling the room, he slipped his tongue into her. His eyes widened in awe. He'd never tasted anything so wonderful. If this was just her come, what must her blood taste like? “Oh my love, I'm going to drain every last drop of you.”

Spike swam in Willow like a seal in the sea, his tongue exploring, caressing sensitive folds of skin, and flickering over her clit, diving deeper and faster, sinking further down into her until Willow started bucking against him, desperate to release the mounting tension. “Ready for the main show, are we?” Spike asked as he nibbled his way up her belly.

“No,” Willow shouted.

His head darted up in surprise, and Willow couldn't help but smile at his adorably confused expression. “I,” she said with a blush, “I want to be on top of you when we come.”

Raising himself to a kneeling position, looking like the cat who'd eaten the canary, Spike said, “I could never deny you, my lady.”

Even before he'd settled himself on the bed, Willow was upon him, her thrusts as powerful as waves crashing against rocks at the edge of the sea. To Spike she looked like a wild thing, untamed and primal as she rode him, pushing harder and faster. Wrapping his legs around her, he thrust back, their rhythms becoming one as they crashed into each other. As he felt her about to come, Spike called Willow to him, and she came, their bodies merging so closely they seemed to be almost one as fangs pierced throat. Willow shuddered and screamed, coming at last as Spike, true to his word, drained her down.

As Willow neared death, Spike, cradling her in his arms, cut a line across his chest and brought her lips up, crooning, “There, there my love, now we'll be together forever,” as she drank deeply of his blood.