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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

~*~*~*~

Chapter note: Sorry this wasn't posted last weekend, but my beta was having a lovely time with her mommy. Chapter 8 will be posted not this coming weekend, but the next (July 7th weekend? don't really know the date). that way we'll be back on the weekend schedule. Until I move in August and my schedule gets blown to hell again *g*

here beginneth the *real* angst. oh, you thought the angst had already begun, you say? nope. this is where it gets super duper angsty. hang in there...and don't flame me. thanks.

~*~*~*~

In the coming week, Buffy felt that the script had changed, though she didn’t understand how or why. She suspected it had something to do with the day Spike gave her the boxing equipment. The sex afterwards had been so hot and sweet, but he’d been gone when she had woken up and had been acting strangely ever since.

He wasn’t ignoring or avoiding her exactly, just…not joking around or hanging out with her. Buffy could feel the emotional breathing room between them, and that was a new thing. And Spike was scarcer than he used to be, even though she knew he wasn’t working at the moment. Also, he smelled like cigarettes all the time. She didn’t even know he smoked.

The other new thing was, Drusilla had been arriving home at 6pm every night like clockwork. Buffy had never known her to regularly arrive at the house before 10. The four of them had been sitting down to dinner in the dining room like the most dysfunctional family ever, and the arrangement was definitely uncomfortable. Mostly, Buffy just let the married couple carry the conversation, while she sat unsure of herself in the seat against the wall. What would she say anyway? She felt strange joking around with Spike in front of his wife. After dinner, Spike and Dru would retire to their master suite, and Buffy went to bathe Jackson and put the sleepy baby down for the night. She rarely saw either of the Turners again before she herself turned in.

The afternoons when they sparred were the only exception to Spike’s distant behavior. Spike surprised her—he had no formal technique to speak of, but he had good instincts, a familiarity with the dance that made it seem like he had experience when it came to using his fists. The biggest challenge was teaching him how to fight clean. When they were on the mat, Buffy saw glimmers of the normal Spike. He teased and joked and mouthed off as usual, especially when she easily dodged his jabs and knocked him flat on his ass.

But all Buffy could think about was that she and Spike hadn’t had sex for the whole rest of that week. Buffy fretted about it all weekend.

~*~*~*~

“See what happens when you try to be all sly? You’re still leaving your left side wide open for attack.” Buffy wriggled from her perch on Spike’s hips, and he grunted, arms pinned firmly beside his head.

“’S not fair,” he protested again. “Only reason you keep taking me down is you’re some sodding wunderkind, and here I am, a mere mortal, untrained and naïve. Only way a little chit like you could mrmrmphhh….”

Buffy cut off his bitching, pressing her mouth to Spike’s while he was caught in this vulnerable position. There was no way she was going through another weekend stuck in this situation. What was the use in being able to hold a boy down if you couldn’t have your way with him?

Spike’s whole body tensed up and froze underneath her. She still didn’t understand exactly what his hang-up was lately, but she was through being patient about it, so she ignored his reticence, softly but insistently mouthing at his bottom lip in spite of his best impression of a marble statue. A really yummy marble statue. She released his hands and slid her own into his hair, which was unruly from their sparring. Hesitantly, his lips began to move with her, and his hands came to rest on her thighs.

When her tongue tangled with his, Spike made a short, deep sound of approval, hands flexing into her quads. Buffy rubbed her body against his growing erection and teased her hands up his abs, stealing his shirt upwards with the gesture.

He broke away, his breathing harsh. “Buffy….” She sucked on the hollow of his throat, and he swallowed.

“Oh, come on,” she teased lightly, “You’ve been a good boy. Play with me. I’m feeling all neglected.” She swiveled her hips into his, and his head thumped back, eyes closed. “You know you want me.”

Spike muttered something, but his hands were stroking up her thighs and over her ass, so Buffy figured it was pretty irrelevant. She pushed his shirt up to bunch under his armpits and sealed her mouth around one flat, soft nipple. As she coaxed it to erection with the tip of her tongue, his hands squeezed at her ass, grinding her into something else that was growing erect. She smiled into his chest and pulled out of his hands to shimmy out of her clothing. Spike’s eyes remained glued to the increasing amount of visible skin.

Kneeling beside his hips, Buffy peeled his own sweats down. His cock sprang out, eager. She threw him a sideways glance to find him watching her intensely, hand rubbing absently over his upper stomach.

Buffy took his cock, stroking it a few times lightly. “I’ve missed this,” she confessed, and trailed her tongue up the side of his shaft. He moaned and threw his elbow over his face, and she smiled to herself over the reaction as she continued to fellate him.

When she pulled a condom out of her pocket and rolled it on him, Spike mumbled something again. Buffy pretended he hadn’t said anything, even though her mouth quirked up when she caught the phrase “the death of me.”

Buffy settled her hips over his and sunk down onto his cock, moaning as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Spike was watching her through slitted eyelids, panting shallowly as she rocked back and forth experimentally. His hand slid upward from her hip, large enough to span half her torso, fingers curled around her side and thumb stroking up the midline of her body. He cupped at the underside of her breast, thumb rubbing roughly over her nipple, until she broke the hypnotic moment by beginning to move.

The pace quickly grew frenetic, Spike’s hands urging Buffy faster and feeding the edge of desperation she felt until her whole body was taut with it. She was sweaty and feverish with exertion, so tense. She had been horny for him for almost two weeks, and it didn’t require much to drive her to the edge, especially when he was fucking her with his eyes as well as his cock. When started to bring her off with fingers to her clit, the sounds that she made were unrecognizable to her, surprised, distressed sounds, the pressure building in such a way that was teeth-clenchingly unbearable until it finally popped and broke open, the orgasm short-lived but relieving, allowing her to breathe easy again.

She slumped, panting, for a moment, but Spike hadn’t come yet, and he was watching her in an indiscernible way, stroking patient hands along her stilled hips. When Buffy began to move again, she watched Spike sink back into himself, eyes rolling closed as he bit his bottom lip, choked-off moans slipping through despite himself. Buffy traced her fingers down his abs as she bounced, loving the way his face flushed and tensed as she squeezed down on his cock. Spike’s hands flexed into her flesh as he shuddered and cried out, pelvis arched in a frozen thrust up against her as he came.

Buffy folded her body down into his as he sprawled on his back, catching his breath. She kissed his chin before she tucked her head under it, her afterglow disturbed by a slight unease in her gut. Eventually Spike’s arms came up to band around her waist and upper back, and the bad feeling settled away as his fingertips stroked minutely against her spine. Buffy closed her eyes and contented herself with the slight touches, told herself that it was fine that there were no long lazy caresses or lips pressing to the top of her head.

“My mom is taking me camping this weekend,” she offered finally.

Spike’s arms flexed and then eased looser. “Is she? Wouldn’t take your mum for much of an outdoorsman…err, woman.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed vaguely, “She wants to be all family-ee. Said she doesn’t get to see me much, so she wanted to take me somewhere where I couldn’t just watch tv and roll my eyes at her.”

Spike smiled. “Fair enough. Where are you going?”

“Staircase Falls? It’s in the Olympic National Forest. One of her art-buyers told her about it. Said it was really pretty.”

“Oh, you’ll adore it. Gorgeous, up that way. You two will have a fantastic time. Clear out the cobwebs.” His enthusiasm for the place felt exaggerated, which only intensified Buffy’s feelings of strangeness.

She traced a finger over the patch of his bare skin in front of her eyes. “Yeah.”

~*~*~*~

Buffy came back from the weekend with her mum bright-eyed and a healthy pink. Spike was glad to see her relaxed and happy once again. On Friday, it had been as though she had absorbed all of his discomfort as her own, and he didn’t like seeing her so subdued, especially knowing it was his fault.

Monday, she was back, bubbling about her weekend and tossing him to the mat with freakish skill. Whenever Buffy looked on the verge of making a move that would take them back into murky waters, Spike successfully distracted her with merciless tickling, which she breathlessly shrieked was not a kickboxing move. When they finally collapsed on the floor in an endorphin-soaked heap, the moment had passed and he’d dodged the bullet for another day.

But now it was Tuesday, and there was another bullet labeled ‘Spike’ stashed somewhere on her person.

“That all you got, little girl?” Spike taunted as he dodged a fist. Buffy blindsided him with a rapid spin that landed her foot firmly to his solar plexus. He ‘oofed’ and stumbled back, and Buffy gloated in satisfaction as he landed on his bum. Another afternoon, another round of getting knocked on his arse, especially now that he was trying to fight by her rules. Nevertheless, he couldn’t prevent his mouth from twitching into a smile as she beamed at him and hauled him back to his feet. Buffy was so in her element here, when they sparred. She glowed with such self-confidence; she was hardly the girl he knew. For that reason alone, he’d drop another couple grand to purchase this setup all over again, given the chance.

When Buffy came at him this time, Spike was able to block all of her blows, which meant she was going easy on him again. She only really kicked his arse when she got tired of his mouth—which guaranteed he’d tease her again, since her power turned him on. Spike was attracted to bringing it out of her, despite his renewed resolution to keep his hands off of her for a time.

Buffy tried the roundhouse on him again, but this time he caught her foot and refused to let go. She tried to yank her leg away but only succeeded in throwing herself off-balance, and he toyed with her, wobbling her body by the foot until she flailed her arms, and he pushed her away. She landed on the mat with a soft thud and lay blinking at the ceiling. Smirking, he towered over her body.

“Something wrong, pet?” he asked innocently.

She blinked up at him, and then burst into giggles. “That was a really rotten trick, Spike. We’ve talked about that, you know.”

He snorted. “Fighting clean’s overrated, luv, especially when you’re outmatched. Just goes to show, I’m a bad man.” Spike leered at her campily as he pulled her laughing form off the floor.

“I know,” Buffy joked, stumbling to her feet. “It’s a good thing for you, I love you anyways.”

Instantly, they both froze, still joined at the hands, and Spike’s heart kicked out against his ribs. “What?” he asked, dazed. Buffy’s whole face warmed over red, her green eyes wide, and Spike knew, sickly, that there was no way for either of them to play it off as a figure of speech. She— “You what?”

“I just meant…I was….” But Buffy didn’t deny the assumption that was hanging between them. Her eyes dropped from his.

Spike spun away, needing to think, but his head was full of cotton. He felt hot and feverish, and his heart felt too big and achey.

“Don’t,” he said finally, turning back to her. Buffy looked up at him, still flushed, brows drawn in confusion. He shook his head as he demanded, “Don’t love me.”

Buffy gaped at him. “I can’t just…stop! How can you—how the hell can you say that?”

Spike felt his face harden, even as his guts felt like they were decomposing into slushy liquid.

“Try.”

Buffy’s expressive eyes filled with tears, but he could tell she was trying to hold them back. Spike just wanted to stop this whole thing, to wind it back, to undo this mess.

“I’m not stupid, you know. I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t stop—” A sob tore past her defenses, and she looked so small, so vulnerable, it broke his heart. But he didn’t move.

“I have responsibilities,” he heard himself say. “I can’t just be your bloody Prince Charming. Nothing is going to change about that just because you’ve decided you fancy me.”

Buffy looked as though Spike had kicked her in the face, and his stomach cramped painfully. “I don’t think you have to worry about being confused with Prince Charming. Your impression sucks.” Her small show of backbone was ruined when her face crumpled and her body seized up again in painful sobbing. “I know, I sh-shouldn’t, but you’re the best thing—”

The rest was lost to the incoherence of inconsolable weeping. Spike felt like a right bastard. He stepped forward. “Kitten, I—”

Bawling, Buffy shoved away the hand that reached for her. “Don’t touch me.” He faltered. “Just get the hell out of here, Spike.”

Spike hesitated, then heart in his shoes, turned and walked away.

TBC


A/N: if you're one of my many lurkers...thanks for reading! it delights me to see your headcount on the hits counter every week. you know what would be even better? some feedback. <nudges you towards the form> it occurs to me that this is probably a bad chapter to ask for new feedback. <laughs> don't hate me.





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