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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

I might be disappearing for 2 weeks...I'm not dead, and I will be coming back with more.
~*~*~*~

“I think I’m in love with him.”

The phone line was silent, except for the crackling white noise of the two receiving ends of the connection. It was a Friday afternoon, two weeks after Buffy’s relationship with Spike had evolved to include extensive pillow talk in addition to the mind-numbing sex, and she knew she was in trouble.

“Hello? Did you hear me? I’ve fallen in love with Spike. Say something!” Buffy heard Faith swear softly, and her stomach clenched.

“Uh…yeah, we heard you,” Cordelia answered. “We were just…am I senile or did we not all talk about this weeks ago? Love was not part of the package here, Buffy. The package was fucking your boss, which was skeezy, but not entirely stupid. This, this is a whole new level of stupidity.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She hated the way her voice came out—whiny and petulant and desperate. “I just…he’s so good to me, and…God, I am so screwed.” Tears stung at her eyes, but Buffy pressed her lips together and held them in.

Faith finally spoke up, and the sympathy in her ordinarily caustic voice did nothing to comfort Buffy. If Faith was being sensitive, her own personal apocalypse must be drawing near. “Buffy…you know I was all about the hot dad love, but…maybe you should end it. He already pretty much told you that all this could be was sex.”

“But it’s not!” Buffy cried out. “I don’t think…this has to be more to him than the rest of his affairs. We talk about stuff, personal stuff, and he even talks to me about the new book he’s writing and he…It’s not just sex. You guys wouldn’t understand.” She knew that the last sounded self-important, but it was true. They couldn’t possibly….

“That’s right, I wouldn’t understand, because you’re delusional. This is exactly why I thought this was a horrible—“

“Cordy.” Faith cut her off. “Look, B, all we’re saying is that maybe you’re just going to end up hurting here. Just think about it.”

~*~*~*~

Buffy did think about it. And her conclusion was, she couldn’t be the onlyone to end up hurting. She knew she wasn’t in this alone emotionally, she just knew it. There had once been a time—pre-apocalyptic divorce—when Buffy got what Buffy wanted…fought and planned and innovated until a goal was attained. She had lost that part of herself when it became apparent that no amount of determination would bring back Angel. No amount of fortitude would bring back her father.

She would be damned if she was going through that again.

“Hi,” she chirped to Spike as she climbed into the mini-van.

“Hey, pet,” he grinned at her. “Have to go by the grocer’s on the way home, the cupboard’s just about bare.”

He looked tann, relaxed and self-satisfied. The weekend with Dru had been good to him, and seeing that made her stomach roll in on itself.

“You look like you’ve been having fun,” she observed.

“Yeah.” Spike smiled at her, his teeth looking whiter in his darker face. “Dru and I went out to the coast, soaked up the sun. Rare thing in this bloody climate. Should have moved to Southern California.” He winked at her, and Buffy’s heart thudded even though she felt anxious at the evidence that his home life went on happily without her. Some days it was easy to ignore the fact that he was married, especially since Drusilla sightings were rare occurrences during Buffy’s waking hours.

And when it came down to it, the monogamous part of her, the child-of-divorce part of her, just didn’t get it. Didn’t understand how this arrangement of theirs could exist in a viable, working marriage. Deep in her heart, Buffy harbored the notion that, in fact, the marriage wasn’t as strong as Spike suggested.

Spike laughed. “…and then Jackson stumbled over on those fat baby legs right to her! Can you believe it? Dru was over the moon that his first steps came when she was actually able to be around. Said it was written in the stars or some rot. I swear, you’d think I’d be the fanciful one, as the writer in the family, but that’s my Dru.”

The pride and excitement and love in his voice made tears spring to Buffy’s eyes, and she quickly turned her head to watch the scrolling shopping centers out the passenger window. She laughed with him to cover her reaction.

“Anyway, what did you get up to this weekend, luv?”

Cried myself sick thinking about you and had my two only friends tell me I was a fool. “Not much. Me and mom went to see that big summer blockbuster…the one with all the stuff that blows up and the hired assassin?”

Spike smiled as he signaled into a parking lot, and reached across the space between the seats to rub at the back of her neck casually, his hand warm and firm and soothing. “Not enough drama in your own life, hey?”

The irony was large enough to choke her to death. “Nope, I gotta import my drama elsewhere. Although watching a grown man smuggle a knife up his ass was something I’d prefer not to watch with my mother.” Spike laughed, and she felt a little better.

He threw the car into park. “Alright, pet, I’m just going to run in and pick up a few quick things. Stay here with Jackson and enjoy the air con. Although, try not to corrupt his impressionable music tastes with that poppy crap.” Spike smirked and gave the base of Buffy’s neck a friendly squeeze. For a moment he hesitated, as if he were going to give her a peck on the lips, but then he glanced around the busy parking lot and winked instead.

Buffy stared, unfocused, out the windshield after he had gone, not seeing the housewives that bustled to and from their SUVs and sedans, loading groceries. After a long deliberation, she made a decision, and crawled into the rearmost seat of the van.

~*~*~*~

Spike’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he opened the rear door to load the groceries and saw Buffy—a whole lot of Buffy—over the seat back. She felt a rush of pride when his jaw dropped, even as he pulled the door to a crack to shield her body from view of the other customers.

“Are you nuts? We’re at the grocery store, for Christ’s sake.” He spoke in hushed tones, caught somewhere between outrage and titillation.

She grinned smugly and studied the front of his pants with a facial expression she had learned from him. “You love it. Come here and I’ll prove just how much.”

“Buffy.”

“Spike.”

He paused, looking torn, glancing furtively around the parking lot. Buffy could practically hear his conversation with himself: The windows to the van were tinted darkly, and with the harsh lighting of the summer’s day, it was unlikely anyone could see all the way to the back from the windshield….

Buffy continued the train of thought for him. “If someone glances our way, all they’re gonna see is you sitting in the backseat by yourself,” she reassured, and grinned as she pinpointed the moment he made sense of the comment. She had him at ‘blowjob.’

Spike shoved the groceries in the back and climbed into the van through the sliding side door, checking on Jackson, who was sleeping in his car seat in the second row, as he passed.

“I must be a soddin’ idiot, cock for brains,” he muttered to himself as he settled into the seat beside her. She just grinned at him, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, as she released him from his pants.

Grasping his shaft, Buffy closed her mouth around the head of Spike’s cock. She hummed, and Spike groaned and slumped farther down in the seat, arms spread along the back of the bench. Buffy licked and sucked and bobbed and groaned around him, and one of his hands slid down the seat to roam her back and neck and hair.

Spike’s pre-come was slightly bitter on her tongue, but all she could taste was the sweetness of his words when he praised her.

“Christ, you give great head, pet. Should be illegal, what you can do with that tongue of yours. What am I going to do with you?”

Buffy’s heart buoyed at all the possible meanings of his question, even though she knew it was just one of those things that people said, and it probably meant nothing at all.

After Spike came, almost violently, he gathered her up in his lap, and all his smiles were for her, not Dru. He teased and joked and promised to give as good as he’d gotten as soon as they got home, and Buffy’s anxiety idled back to a dull buzz at the base of her skull.

~*~*~*~

Spike could say one thing, the girl really enjoyed giving head. They were up to one a day now, though she didn’t always finish him off that way. Ever since that morning in the parking lot of the local market, he could hardly keep his cock out of her mouth. Not that he was complaining, because he wasn’t, was he? Even in public, when his brain said ‘this is risky,’ his body told it to fuck right off and live a little.

Buffy had been acting weird that morning, the Monday at the grocery, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But since then things had more or less gone back to normal in the easy daily rhythms the two of them had developed, and she seemed ok, so he’d brushed the strangeness aside. He’d imagined that something was off, or maybe she’d just had a bad weekend.

Fucking wasn’t all they did these days, of course, because Spike wasn’t a total letch, and even if he were, it would be a waste of the other uses of that clever tongue of hers. The girl was bright and funny, and excellent company.

Spike had nothing but time at the moment, between books, and they spent a lot of it together, in and out of bed. It was easy, being with her. She was a ray of sunshine in his life.

He wouldn’t really start his next book until after the publicity whirlwind for the current one was done in the fall, since a book tour was never conducive to the kind of peace and quiet and rest he required to be at the top of his game. But he had ideas, and though he never discussed potential plot lines with anyone other than Dru and his publisher for security reasons, this was Buffy. She was hardly going to go to the press or the chat rooms—he trusted her—and she had been a great help, an excellent sound board. She pushed him in just the way he needed. Plus, it was interesting to get the input of an intelligent reader on the front end of the assembly line.

“Kitten?”

Having wandered from room to room, Spike finally located Buffy in the shower, the outline of her body tantalizing through the frosted glass as she shaved her legs. But that’s not why he was here.

“Goldilocks?”

She popped her head out the door, wet hair dripping on tile as she wiped the water away from her eyes. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking we could go to a matinee with the tot. Be nice to get out of the house, yeah?”

Her grin was sweet. “A movie?”

“Yup. Some fluffy summer shite that won’t challenge our intellects. Sound appealing?”

“You do realize that by inviting me to a movie, you are committing yourself to at least a large popcorn, small M&M’s, and an obscene Olympic swimming pool of Diet Coke? I’m a very high-maintenance date.”

He smirked. “I think your snack-food needs can be met.”

“Then you’re on.” Buffy’s beaming smile became overtly suggestive. “You know, you’re awfully dirty. I think you need a good hard scrubbing before I could possibly take you out in public.”

Spike loved her slightly clumsy attempts at innuendo and seduction. They were too obvious by half, but somehow that only made her more alluring. The lack of practiced guile.

Spike flashed her a bit of pink tongue. “Do I?”

“Mmmhhmmm, and at least half of this water is going to waste. I think we should share.”

So it wasn’t what he’d come for, but it was a pleasant detour. Spike stripped his shirt over his head. “You do make a stunning case for environmentalism.”

TBC





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