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Author's Chapter Notes:
eventually dark, angsty, underage sex, increasing levels of kink, and utterly unrealistic demands on Spike’s stamina :) it will * remain consensual *. I’ll try to mark any special kink warnings on a chapter-by-chapter basis.

beta'd by the lovely goddessofmercy

I almost fell into that hole in your life,
You weren’t thinking bout tomorrow,
Cause you were the same as me,
But on your knees…
--Goo Goo Dolls' Black Balloon
another A/N: ok, so here's the deal. firstly, I would like to say thank you so much for all of your well wishes and understanding. secondly, I literally took a tally of yall's response to whether you wanted this now or later. and it was literally an even break...40% for, 40% against, 20-ish% happy either way.

so taking that into account, I decided a few things. I would rather err on the side of being generous with what i've got, because folks who are really averse to reading this before the rest is done can just pretend it doesn't exist for the moment (although I wouldn't have that kind of willpower if it was me).

and I also decided that posting it might actually be good for me. I really do have a rather disproportionate amount of guilt over leaving the characters hanging out on the web pissed off at each other. and I think getting fb will help kick-start my muse a bit on this story. it's worked with other fics before. writing in a vaccuum...sucks. *ducks away from the bad pun*

I hope this chapter relieves the angst a little bit. it's still angsty cuz...well...yeah. but not as much.

EDIT: Crappity crap crap crap. I meant to say, the next time I post to this story, it will be to post chapter 10. I will not post any more story status updates, because I know that disappoints people when they realize there's no story. so, if you are curious at any point about the story status, you can check up on the story under my livejournal at this specific link. I will list any story progress updates I make under this tag.




part 9

Spike went out of his skull all weekend imagining what Buffy was up to with that boy. The self-righteous little prick who’d scowled at him in his own home and held Buffy in his arms in the backyard.

Tosser.

He fretted that the two were getting back together. Merely out of concern for Buffy, of course. Spike didn’t trust the prat. He was too damn…earnest. The git had already broken her heart once and….

Spike cringed. Speaking of bastards who broke Buffy’s heart, no matter what bollocks he fed himself, it didn’t change the fact that Spike was jealous as hell. And as the weekend wore on, he felt less and less self-conscious about that, and more and more obsessed with it. It was eating him up inside, wondering what they were getting up to.

By Sunday, he’d resolved that things were going to change. He didn’t really understand how, because he still believed everything he had before. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave Drusilla and Jackson. He couldn’t lead Buffy on. But he wouldn’t be callous to her anymore either. If she’d still give him the time of day when she returned, they’d sit down and they’d talk about her feelings, and they’d…they’d work something out. He was grasping at straws for what that something might be, but they had to. They had to find something.

On Sunday evening, Buffy’s mum had called to tell him Buffy was not coming to work on Monday. In fact, she wasn’t coming Tuesday. Her friend was staying for a few extra days, and Buffy would be back to work on Wednesday. She apologized for any inconvenience.

Spike had heard laughter in the background. Buffy’s, and the boy’s.

It was all he thought about for 61 hours.

~*~*~*~

Buffy had a new perspective on life, and it came with a whole set of resolutions. She was feeling all resolve-y. Call her Buffy the Resolute. It could be her Viking name, like Ivan the Terrible, or the lesser-known, Irving the Little-bit-wimpy. Yup, she was resolve-y girl.

No more acting like a fool over Spike. No more letting him call the shots, unless she told him to. No more being in love with him. Especially the last one. Very crucial. She’d write it on her bathroom mirror and make it her daily morning affirmation. ‘I am not stupid. I do not love Spike.’

Right.

She’d had a good weekend with Angel. A long weekend. She’d still felt sorry for herself at first, but after a few nights of B-movies and sundaes with Angel, Faith and Cordy, the hole Spike had blown in her gut began to mend. They were good friends and they made her laugh, and even though her heartache with Spike had remained in the background, beneath everything, eventually they’d distracted her enough that she didn’t think about it for a while.

She was still a little bit pissed that Angel wanted to be all high-and-mighty, I-do-what’s-best-for-you, but he’d been so great to her, all weekend. Even with him being a clueless ‘tard, knowing that he still loved her was a hell of a lot easier on the self-esteem than thinking he had set her aside so easily.

Being around Angel again had reminded her that she wasn’t easily forgotten. Buffy was actually quite memorable. And while she’d made it clear (in a gentle way) that he wasn’t the one she wanted anymore, she had kind of gotten off on the way his eyes still followed her around a room.

Because it had reminded her—she was Buffy. She was worth following. It was a lesson that Spike needed to learn, and she was going to make sure he learned it.

Angel’s parting words on Tuesday afternoon had been to urge her to stop messing around with Spike. He’d told her that whatever it was that was going on, it wasn’t good for her. And she’d agreed.

With the second part, not the first. Clearly Angel wasn’t gay, because if he had been, he would have taken one look at Spike and known that ceasing the sexual relations? Not happening.

But things were going to change, that was for sure.

~*~*~*~

Spike could not express how unsettling Buffy’s demeanor was when he picked her up for work on Wednesday morning.

She wasn’t puffy-eyed. She wasn’t sullen or heartbroken. She didn’t snap at him out of anger or look at him with big, green, teary eyes.

She was fine. Really. Right as rain, far as he could tell.

It set his teeth on edge the way she chattered, carefree, about her weekend with Angel and Faith and Cordelia. She’d carted the boy all around Seattle to see the sights on Monday. They’d even taken that bloody boring basement tour. They were just basements, like any other in any other town, and the fact that they’d been above-ground once upon a time, before the whole city had been filled in with dirt, wasn’t a good enough reason to fork over cash for the pleasure of seeing them. That tosser had probably loved it though. He struck Spike as someone as interesting as cardboard, and half as bright.

“…and when he left, he told me I could call him any time, day or night. Isn’t that sweet?”

Spike ran his tongue over his teeth, unimpressed. “It’s peachy.” He snuck a look at her. “You two back together, then?”

Buffy grinned. “Nah. I told him he missed his shot.”

Spike straightened a little. “Good for you, then, pet. He wronged you. Don’t have to put up with that.”

Buffy just studied him silently with this ironic little smile, until Spike felt supremely uncomfortable.

~*~*~*~

He wished to bloody hell he was working on a novel. The well had dried right up, and at any rate, he was supposed to be taking a break before the book-signing tour in the fall.

But it would have given him something to do all day, instead of going out of his skull, watching her bounce around the house without a care in the world. No bra, the evil bint. He’d tried to bring up the matter of their relationship, but she’d deflected him repeatedly, and made him feel like a silly sod in the process.

She was staying with them until next Friday, straight through the weekend—to make up for her unplanned vacation. Or, as Spike suspected, to drive him mad.

Spike simply couldn’t take any more of it, so he’d retreated out here to the deck in the waning light of a long summer’s day, having a smoke. If he couldn’t indulge in one vice, he’d have another.

He heard the patio door open and close, so it was really no surprise when she spoke. He didn’t turn around.

“Pouting?” Buffy was teasing him. It was her new favorite sport, and she could win a gold medal.

He released a long steady stream of smoke. “No,” he finally replied. “Just killing myself slowly.”

He heard her snicker. “Somebody’s chipper today.”

She ignored him when he muttered that she was chipper enough for the both of them. She surprised him, however, by seating herself on the wide armrest of the sturdy, reclining deck chair and plucking the cigarette from his fingers for a drag. She took it slowly, savoring the taste without coughing once, and handed it back to him.

Buffy mirrored his arched brow, a small smile playing at her lips. “What, I can’t have a dark side?”

Spike couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “So you’re a real bad girl, eh kitten?”

“I can be.”

He was still chuckling at the idea through a plume of smoke when she dropped her pants and crawled into his lap. He choked on his next inhale. Self-conscious, Spike cast a wary glance at the other houses bordering his property.

“Buffy—” he began, but then she was drawing her tank top over her head and she was naked, and all over him. They hadn’t spoken, and they sure as hell hadn’t resolved anything, and they were in full view of several families that would probably take umbrage to that weird English writer boffing his underaged babysitter in front of the kiddies.

But Christ, he was a fool for her, because he let her put out his cigarette and press in for a kiss, and he didn’t say anything that sounded remotely like ‘no.’

Oh, God she felt good against him. It had been far too long. Less than two weeks, but that was too much. And somehow, the riskiness of the venue made it that much better when Buffy ground herself obscenely against the crotch of his jeans.

Spike struggled for a little bit of the responsibility he had felt over the long weekend as he let her pull his shirt off over his head. “Pet, you really don’t have to—”

Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. “This is no chore, believe me. And don’t try to be all moral now, Spike, it doesn’t look good on you.”

He started to object to that, but considering that he was currently lifting his hips to help her relieve him of his jeans, swearing softly as she rolled a condom onto the cock that was more than ready for her—he didn’t really think he had much of a case.

She didn’t particularly seem to want any foreplay. When he tried to touch her, Buffy pinned his arms to the armrests and mounted him, sliding down around his cock, slick and snug and hot for him. They were already moving in a powerful rhythm—or rather, she was—when his hands were finally freed. She thrust herself onto his cock, hard and fast, looking so comfortable with her own body that he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Even after the sun had fully set, his eyes were riveted on her face in the dim glow coming from the neighbor’s porch lights. She was a goddess. Her eyes were drifted closed and her hair was loose and wild, and she moaned as she rode him, caught up in her own pleasure.

Not that she really needed to look after his. He was coming along nicely all on his own.

Spike itched to take over, but it was clear who was in control here, and it was fucking sexy to see her this way, at any rate. So when he thrust up against her, he didn’t change her rhythm, and when his hands slid back to clutch at her ass, he didn’t grind her deeper onto his cock. Though he was bloody well tempted.

He did, however, frown when he tried to slide his thumb onto Buffy’s clit and his hand got smacked for his trouble.

But she moaned when he closed rough teeth over her nipple, hand cupping the underside of her breast to plump the flesh and hold it steady for his mouth. Threaded her hand into his hair and sped her hips when his hand cracked down lightly on her ass. And when her own hand drifted down into her curls and she played with herself frantically as she brought herself off on him—well, he wasn’t objecting to the show, understand.

In fact, the sight, veiled as it was by the darkness, made Spike’s breath come short and his groin flush hotter, and then he was stifling a moan against her throat as he came. Buffy continued to move restlessly above him, desperate on the verge, and all he could do was watch, panting, as she threw her head back and lost herself, loudly, coming so strongly around his softening cock that Spike shuddered and groaned.

Spike was mildly surprised when Buffy slumped down against his chest, curling into him as she always did, and it took him a moment to put his finger on the reason.

This had been unlike any other sexual encounter between them. Buffy seemed…well, cold was certainly not the word for it, but…disaffected. Casual. Spike realized he wouldn’t have been surprised, from their coupling, if she’d gotten up and wandered into the house afterwards instead of resting her body against him sweetly, as she was doing now.

Spike felt…very unsettled by the observation. It was so unlike the girl he knew.

The evening air was chilly in Seattle, even during the heat of summer, and when the shiver passed through her, he wrapped his arms around her back and tried to rub some warmth into her body. They should really go inside—they’d be covered in mosquito bites. Aggressive little buggers.

But they were comfortable, and it occurred to him that if he was going to get her to talk to him, now was the time to try.

“Buffy?” She gave a contented little purr and tried to burrow further into his shoulder. Spike smiled. He stroked a hand through her hair. “Kitten, about what you said to me the other day. I—”

Buffy stilled, but her voice was casual. “Forget about it.”

“I really don’t think we should.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

His hands paused in their soothing motions before resuming. “You were a bit too upset to have been lying, petal.”

Buffy sat up, and he let his hands fall to rest on her thighs. “I wasn’t lying. I just—I just realized over the weekend that I wasn’t, that’s all.”

Spike huffed out an incredulous laugh, somewhat taken aback. “Over the course of four days you decided—”

“Yes, Spike. Four days. Four days that I spent with someone I used to really love. And who loved me back, however badly it ended. This isn’t love. This is really hot sex, and I let it go to my head and it made me confuse the two. You’ll have to forgive me, but this is my first extra-marital affair, so I’m a little new at all this.”

Spike felt like he’d been slapped. Stricken speechless, actually, which was a difficult thing to accomplish with him. As much of a problem as her confession had been, her retraction of it stung more than he could say. Not that he really wanted to say it at all. Bloody hell, even he didn’t understand it.

“So…you….” He was at a loss.

Buffy’s voice was gentler when she spoke again. “Look, I have my head on straight now. I don’t want this to stop just because I lost it for a while. I’m fine. Just forget I said anything.”

It tasted bitter, like a lie, but she sounded confident in her feelings. So Spike went along.

TBC





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