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Healing Wounds	By : Sylver Category: Anita Blake > Crossovers > AB/BtVS Views: 5403 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Anita Blake series, nor BtVS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 19
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It was three days before Spike returned to the Circus. Three very tense days. At first Willow was beside herself with guilt and worry. However, soon those feelings turned to anger as she realized that the bond between them was still strong. The blonde vampire wasn’t dead, but rather off sulking somewhere. To add insult to injury, when he finally did return, he refused to speak a word to the distressed redhead, but rather went straight to Jean-Claude and requested a separate room for himself.

Willow was overcome with relief that Spike was safe, but she didn’t have time for his personal grudge. They all had enough to worry about with the Mother of All Darkness coming. If they survived, she would take the time to work things out with him. In the meantime, frantic preparations were being made for the arrival of three council members.

It was obvious to her that such an event was not a welcome one, based on the tension of everyone around her. Within just hours they would be arriving, and she would finally see what all the fuss was about. It was a meeting she was not looking forward to.

While waiting for their esteemed guests to arrive, Willow kept herself busy with meditation to maintain her magics at their peek level in case she needed to defend herself. She also spent a great deal of time watching the news with a growing sense of horror as the death tolls overseas rose to over two thousand in just a few short days. In fact, the council members were lucky they were able to even make it out of the country as quarantine procedures were put in place all over Europe. As much as Willow was dreading their upcoming battle, part of her hoped it would happen soon before there was no longer a human race to save.

Feeling somewhat antsy while waiting for the council and the apocalypse to arrive, Willow decided to make herself a cup of tea to soothe her nerves. She had been trying for the last few days to get some decent sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, all she could hear was the screaming voices of the dead, as if they were haunting her, and it was more than she could take. She was exhausted, but aside from a few catnaps, real sleep continued to elude her. It also hadn’t escaped her notice how lonely her bed felt now that Spike was no longer in it, but that hadn’t been her decision. He had every right to want his space. Still, she missed him, and his comforting embrace, more than she was prepared to admit. She was on her way back to her room, lost in thought, when she ran head long into the very blonde vampire she had been thinking about, spilling the scalding tea all over him.

“Bloody hell, woman, watch where you are going!” he snarled, trying to brush the liquid away as it soaked through his pants and shirt burning him.

“Spike! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, reaching out to help him.

He quickly dodged away from her, glaring at her with something close to hatred. “Don’t touch me,” he ground out through clenched teeth before storming away.

His words stung her like a blow, but she did not try to stop him as he made his retreat. As much as it hurt, maybe it was better this way. It would be wrong to just let things continue with Spike, never knowing if either of their feelings were real or just the result of a spell. He deserved better than that.

Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks as she continued on to her room. She had only made it about another ten feet before she plowed into Asher as he was coming out of his room.

“Gosh darn it! Why does that keep happening to me?!” she hollered at him before she could stop herself.

Asher took a step back in shock, giving her a bewildered stare. “My apologies, ma cherie, I will to bto be more careful when leaving my room from now on,” he said sarcastically. Then, seeing the tears streaming down her face, his expression softened. He reached out to brush away the damp trails, but pulled his hand back again as if he had thought better of it. “What has happened, little one, to upset you so?” he asked gently.

Willow tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. The look in his eyes held such concern; she wanted to reassure him everything was fine. She was keeping it together. ‘Yeah, right!’ screamed a little voice in her head. She opened her mouth again, trying to force the words out, but instead all the anger, hurt, and fear she had been holding on to seemed to overflow her senses like a dam breaking. She gasped for breath as she began to sob uncontrollably, her small body shaking from the force of it.

Moving back from his door, Asher motioned her inside. “You better come in and sit for a moment.” When he saw she still wasn’t moving, he adopted a tone one would use to coax a small child, and added, “Please, let me offer you some comfort. I promise not to bite, unless you want me to.”

Willow moved by him slowly, her vision blinded by tears. When she took a moment to compose herself, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, she was so stunned at what she saw that she temporarily forgot her troubles. She didn’t know what she had expected. Something elaborate, extravagant, maybe, based on Jean-Claude’s tastes. What she didn’t expect was the simple furnishings, and the utter lack of decoration. However, this was not what made her breath catch in her throat, what had caught her off guard were the books. Every wall was lined with tall bookshelves packed full of countless volumes. His own personal library.

All the recent hardships she was facing were pushed into the background by the wonder of such a sight, her sobs turning into soft hiccups and then stopping altogether. She moved, speechless, over to the nearest case and ran her fingers lightly across the many bindings, breathing deep the delightful scent of old leather and paper. How she had missed her books from home, and all this time there had been a veritable treasure trove of literature just down the hall from her. She glanced through the titles, noticing several classics, and absently wondered if they were different from the versions on her world. Moving toward the case closest to the bed she couldn’t help but be surprised to find well over a hundred romance novels, including one with a pirate and a scantily clad woman laying on the nightstand.

Asher watched her with a mix of curiosity and discomfort as she moved around his room. Only Jean-Claude and Anita had ever entered his private sanctuary before. He didn’t even allow his pomme de sang in this room. “I like to read,” he said lamely, by way of explanation.

“Apparently.”

“Eternity is a long time to fill, especially alone,” he added with more bitterness than he intended.

Willow looked up at him then, and the pain in his eyes hurt her heart. “I didn’t realize…I suppose it would be. The books are wonderful. I can understand why you spend so much time in your room now.”

Asher smiled in spite of himself. The girl’s love of books was obvious from her tone, and it made him happy to know he had given her some pleasure. “I don’t normally let anyone touch them, but I can tell you view such treasures with as much reverence as I do. If you wish to borrow any, please help yourself.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, again looking over the titles, until she came across a old leather bound version of The Little Prince. Pulling it carefully from the shelf, she was completely caught off guard as Asher moved across the room, with lightening speed, and snatched the book from her hand.

Looking somewhat flustered, he clutched the small volume to his chest. “Any book, but this one. It is…special.”

“Of course,” she said with an understanding smile. “I’ll choose something else.” Going back through the titles on the shelf in front of her, she couldn’t seem to make up her mind. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Asher place his beloved book in the drawer of his nightstand. He was such a mystery, such a surprise. “Maybe you could recommend one?”

Asher moved up behind her, silently, peering over her shoulder from behind the sheet of golden hair that hid his scarred face from her. “Well, I always liked The Jungle Book or maybe The Iliad and Odyssey. What kind of books do you like?” He looked down at her then, and his breath caught in his throat.

He hadn’t realized how close she was. Her red hair was shining like flames in the light of his bedside lamp. Her green eyes were looking at him inquisitively, as if trying to make sense of the question he asked her. Her gaze shifted to his mouth, as her pink tongue darted out, moistening her lips. Suddenly his throat felt very dry and his body extremely warm.

Willow was captivated by this intriguing man. The sound of his soft French accent as his breath brushed by her ear was more than she could take. No longer interested in the books, she turned her gaze on him, wanting to focus on his lips as he made such wonderful sounds. She hadn’t even realized he had asked heruestuestion. She just continued to watch his mouth, wondering what he would taste like. She could feel his pain, even without touching him. It was like a tangible thing, like a suit he always wore. She wanted to take that pain from him, and what’s more, she knew that she could. Closing her eyes, she moved her mouth toward his to steal a kiss.

Asher felt himself moving toward her as well, completely entranced by the siren before him. At the last second though, he pulled away. “Non. I cannot do this. Please, petite sorciere, I think you should go.”

“Asher, let me help you,” she pleaded softly, reaching her hand out to him, but he dodged away from her grasp.

For centuries he had lived with his pain, his deformity. He had heard some of the weres and lesser vampires whispering about her abilities to heal. He had even seen first hand what she could do at the hospital when she healed that injured nurse. But Asher was wise enough to know that such things had limitations. In his time he had visited countless healers, mystics, and more recently plastic surgeons, but they all said the same thing. His case was hopeless. Knowing this, he refused to allow himself to believe such a thing was possible now, only to be reminded once again that he would forever be nothing more than a freak, too hideous for anyone to love.

Hardening his heart against the look in her eyes, he shook his head solemnly. “Non. I appreciate your pity, but you can do nothing for me, no one can. Now leave,” he spat venomously.

Willow pulled her hand back at the hostility of his words. “It is only with the heart that one can rightly see. What is essential is invisible to the eye.” Asher looked at her bleakly as she quoted a line from The Little Prince. She moved to stand in front of him again. “I see you, Asher, and you are so very beautiful.”

He stared at her in disbelief. Could this breath-taking creature really see past the monster he had become? It wasn’t possible, and yet he wanted it to be, longed for it with everything in his being. She reached out to stroke his cheek, and he cringed away as if someone had struck him. “Please…please,” he begged, his voice thick with emotion. “You must go.”

Willow felt as if her heart would break from the sight of him. His fear of rejection was so strongly reflected in his eyes that she felt tears begin to run down her cheeks. She had never met anyone who was more alone than the man before her. She did stroke his cheek then, slowly running her fingers over the rough and puckered skin. He flinched again from the contact, but didn’t pull away.

Closing her eyes, she waited for the healing power to wash over her, but it didn’t come. Opening her eyes again, she saw that Asher had gone completely rigid, frozen in fear of her. He had built up an emotional shield over the centuries so strong that it was blocking her power completely. Moving closer to him, she stood on tiptoe, until her lips were just barely brushing against his. She whispered, “Asher, let go. I promise not to hurt you.” He let out a shuddering breath, clenching his eyes shut tight, and then she kissed him.

It was gentle at first, a light brushing of lips, mingling of breath. Then, as Asher gave himself over to the sensation, their embrace became more passionate. Tongues battling for dominance, Willow slowly led him over to the bed. She could feel her power starting to rise, but it was still just a trickle compared to what she had come to expect. He was still guarding himself too much, but in time she knew she would break through his walls.

Moving her mouth to his throat, Asher gave out a hiss of pleasure as her hands began to make quick work of his shirt buttons. Panic welled up inside of him, and he grasped her fingers before they could loosen the last button.

Willow pulled back slightly, and gave him a reassuring smile before lowering her head to gently kiss his exposed collarbone, tracing the scars with her tongue. His hands relaxed on hers and allowed her to continue. Undoing the last button and pushing his shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor, she worked her way down his chest slowly, kissing one side then the other, scarred flesh, then whole.

Dropping to her knees in front of him, she could see his rigid length pressing against the front of his pants. She rubbed her cheek against his hardness, like a cat marking its territory. Asher moaned low in his throat, his large hand stroking her hair lightly. His hooded eyes shone with longing, his fear forgotten.

Reaching down, she quickly removed his shoes and socks, and then returned her attention to his pants. She unfastened the top button, revealing his bellybutton surrounded by a light scattering of dark blonde hair that trailed lower below his waistline. Again she rubbed her cheek against him, surprised at his warmth. Spike had never been warm like this.

Looking up into his eyes, she smiled at him. He was so incredibly beautiful. Gazing down at her, his hair hanging around his face like spun gold, his striking blue eyes dancing with desire, he was like some sort of forbidden angel. Her breath caught in her throat from the intensity of such a look.

Carefully pulling down his zipper, she stifled a giggle as his silk leopard print briefs were revealed. Why was it that men thought briefs were sexy? Oz had always been partial to them and to Willow they had always made his man parts seem bulgy and unnatural. However, this thought quickly vanished as his pants fell down his legs, and she was confronted by his thick length pushing against the flimsy fabric just inches from her face. She tugged at the waistband, impatient now, wanting to see all of him. Her desire mixing with his was fueling her power and his shields were beginning to fall.

If there was any doubt about her intentions before, they were gone now. Asher could feel her heat, her longing, and it was all for him. He didn’t understand it, but the beautiful girl kneeling before him wanted him. She wasn’t repulsed by him like the few other lovers he had had over the years. She looked at him like he was whole again, like he was the man he used to be.

Finally managing to pull down the small piece of fabric still in her way, she gasped at the sight of him. He was perfect. Thin scars trailed down his right hip and toward his groin before continuing down his thigh, but they did not cover his manhood. He was long, thick, and glorious.

Pushing him back to sit on the bed, Willow knelt between his knees and darted her tongue out to quickly taste his pink tip, and was rewarded with a deep growl. She glanced up to see Asher’s eyes had rolled back into his head, and she smiled with pride to think she could have such an effect on him.

Taking him into her mouth more fully, she rolled her tongue along the sensitive ridge around his head, as he hissed with pleasure. Reaching her hand out to very gently message his sack, she began a slow rhythm up and down his length.

She had only ever done this before with Oz on one occasion, and there was so much more of Asher to try to take in, but doing her best to relax her throat, she soon found that she could handle almost his entire length. The last time she had tried it, she found the experience degrading, but this time it was different, almost empowering. She knew how much trust it took for Asher to allow her to touch him, and she wanted the experience to be all about him, about his pleasure. Her pleasure came from knowing how much joy she was giving him.

Asher felt his eyes close involuntarily, his body trembling and his breathing ragged. Gods the mouth this girl had! It was like some sort of warm paradise flowing over his body. He wanted to stop her, to pull her up on the bed with him and give her the kind of pleasure she was sharing with him, but when he tried to pull her up, she brushed his hands away, intent on her ministrations.

He could feel the glorious tension building inside of him, as her knowing tongue continued to stroke his length. Her magic was flowing stronger now, dancing across his skin like an electrical current, almost to the point of discomfort. He tried to fight it back, to push its flow away from him, but his mind couldn’t focus clearly with pulsing pleasure radiating from his groin.

With a light scraping of teeth along his length, he came with a roar. His seed flooding Willow’s mouth as her power flooded his body. The feeling was too intense, too much for both of them, quickly turning to pain as Asher fought against it, not realizing he was only making it worse.

Willow pulled her head back and screamed. It felt like she was on fire, like someone had doused her in acid. With horror, she realized she was sharing the pain of his injury, the memory of his torture as holy water was slowly poured over him for hours. The magic inside her redoubled its effort, and slammed back into him as she stayed crouched in front of him, clinging to his legs. Healing had never been anything but pleasurable for her until now, and she knew it was because he was fighting it.

As the force of yet another wave of power crashed into him, Asher jumped up from the bed, trying to escape. He couldn’t take this pain again, he had barely survived the first time, and by the scream Willow had let out, she was feeling it too. He couldn’t let her suffer like he had. He had to get away. Pushing at her hands on his legs, he stumbled and fell to the floor.

Instinctively Willow knew that if they broke contact it would be over. Asher would be scarred forever, and would likely never trust anyone to touch him again. She took advantage of his prone form, and shimmied up his body until she was lying on top of him, quickly stripping off clothes to try to increase their flesh contact. If she could place enough of her bare skin against his, maybe it would help decrease his pain.

It seemedbe wbe working. The more of her flesh she pressed against his, the less his pain became, and the more hers increased. Gritting her teeth, she yanked off her jeans and her panties so that she was finally naked on top of him. Asher struggled, trying to push her off, but she held fast as she saw his scars seem to become fresh wounds again, then slowly with a hiss of smoke, disappear.

Another scream tore through her throat as the pain became unbearable. How had Asher ever survived such agony? Finally, and thankfully, she blacked out.

Only a moment had passed when her eyes opened, the pain having receded to only an aching throb through her body. She was shaking on the bed, Asher cradling her in his arms as he sobbed, her cheek pressed against his now perfect chest. She looked up at him, and gave him a weak smile, lifting a trembling hand to push his hair out of his face so she could see his restored beauty. He was breathtaking.

She had only a moment to register this thought though before Spike came crashing through the door, Jean-Claude and Jason right on his heels.

To be continued…
- 19
- 20
- 21
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Healing Wounds