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When most saw them, they didn't quite understand. Spike seemed to be the one on fire. With his lengendary temper and generally explosive demeanor it wasn't hard to understand. In comparison, Willow seemed like ice. With those chilly empty onyx eyes, and hair that made her seem paler than Spike.
But then, they didn't see what Spike saw. He'd watched his witch, as she grew in both power and stature, cursing himself that he'd never never turner her when he'd had a proper chance. He'd always watched from a distance, never getting to close, never letting the fluffy little girl realise what was brewing in him.
He hadn't thought twice when he'd tasted grief and black magic swirling through the air of Sunnydale. He'd gone to her, helped her achieve her perfect revenge without anything so human as a moral dillema to stop them. Then he'd coaxed her away from Sunnydale, away from the Slayer, away from all of it. But even then, Spike already knew she was fire and he'd been proven right the first time he'd drank from her.
The magic that flowed through her veins now was fire. It had seared him from the inside out at his first taste, burning down his throat and pumping through long dead veins. It was ash and death, madness and sunlight all compressed into a billion tiny scarlet droplets. Pouring through those tiny deceptive pathways under her skin.
He was the other half of her, ice to quench the fire under her skin. He fed her, bedded her, kept her well. There wasn't much left of Willow most days.
Magic and rage had turned her into something more. An elemental creature moved rarely to any emotion past vengence and ire. And yet, when Spike quenched the fire in her blood then his Willow would return. Her hair would shift to the color that haunted his dreams, her eyes clearing to their soft green.
Some times she knew what had occurred, what was still occurring, other times not at all. But when Red was there, she belonged all to him. Not that it mattered. Red hair or black, Good or Evil. She was his now, whatever her guise.
In the end, what more could love's bitch ask for?