The two men sat lonely in the living room, Giles taking the sofa as it was the best place for him if his weakness dictated he rest.
Phone calls had been placed to warn Buffy’s friends to stay indoors and to Ms. Calendar, strongly suggesting she pack and move in with Rupert for a time. Spike had even managed a call to the realtor to hurry along his sale, only to find out that the owner was more than happy with his occupation if he paid rent until the sale had been properly settled. So, there was no more need for the Watcher to get his knickers twisted about the lack of room, and Spike’s own place could well be a useful refuge for any of the Scoobies should they need it.
That left them with too much time to fill in before Buffy’s return. Giles lounged back on some pillows but watching Spike intently, completely wordless, waiting for the first sign of a crack in the determined silence. Spike sat irritably clinging to his secret, not wanting to reveal what had happened to these people in their future in relation to himself, but knowing that the little visit from Anya had stirred up too many questions for a curious bugger like Giles to ignore.
Still, he tried for stubborn. Lips clamped and eyes aimed firmly at the floor as he struggled against the scorching feel of Watcher eyes burning his intent. Knowing Giles, Spike hadn’t bothered holding any hope that he could keep this under wraps. He even felt relieved that the burden of it wouldn’t remain solely his. Problem was, he didn’t want Buffy to know, and he was sure that once Rupert had the full thing of it, he wouldn’t sit by and let his Slayer become overly close with a vampire. Particularly a soulless one.
Priorities had shifted now. No longer was this about keeping Buffy from becoming Angelus’s salvation and allowing himself to apply for the role of everlasting soulmate. If nothing else progressed between them, he had at least prevented her from becoming emotionally stunted by having the wanker be her first experience of love.
No, the priority now was to keep them all alive. He’d been crippled and useless the first go round. This time he was not only fully capable, fully functional as far as the fight was concerned, he was also motivated by love and devotion.
Not all of it was for Buffy. This trip to his past had enabled him to see things that had never been open to him before. His relationship with Giles was unlike any other he had had in his entire existence. As a human, he had been a joke to all he’d come into contact with: a foppish fool who was incapable of even getting a woman to notice him. A romantic idiot succumbing to the promise of walking in a world that was glowing and glistening, and dare he bloody say it, he still wanted effulgent. He’d wanted it so bad, craved Dru’s promise, and in Buffy it had come true. Only took a hundred and twenty odd years, but his Slayer existed in a glow that would never leave his heart.
Even the tentative camaraderie he’d established with Harris made him all thick in the throat with tears at the possibility of loss. He’d established so much, changed so much, and he thought for the better. But one word to any of them of the past four years of his own existence—still yet to be experienced by these not yet battle-weary soldiers of war—and he’d be packed up with the garbage and shoved to the side where he wouldn’t be seen or heard of again.
Which in itself wasn’t really a good plan, what with a vengeful master vampire roaming the city bent on revenge. He was already feeling the loss of Buffy from his everyday harder and more painfully than he had when she had discarded him in favour of death. It was all so tempting to deny it, be the evil self-serving bloodsucker Harris had always accused him of being and lie.
All it took was the raising of his head. Shades of blue clashed with hazel as Spike felt pulled back to the almost tragedy of earlier tonight. The Watcher still looked worn and lethargic, and far too pale as he lay hard against the pillows. Fatigue etched deep lines around his mouth and eyes and it made Spike worry. He wasn’t used to these injuries. Either a victim was dead, or relegated to something more fulfilling than food. Never before had he really been left to worry about the survival of a victim. He was used to the injured being creatures that could heal supernaturally fast. This continued weakness bothered him and made him question whether he had done the wrong thing by keeping him out of the hospital.
But postponing the inevitable was futile when Giles had him pinned with determinate interest. No matter how much he wanted to run, to lie about what was really going on here, the game had changed with his failure to keep Angelus at bay. He had only one small hope left then. He could tell the tale, promise to leave Buffy alone as well as offer his help in taking Angelus down, but maybe Giles wouldn’t be so hard and bitter as to rush right on and blurt the whole story to Buffy in a pique of irritation.
Was he too hopeful? Probably, but he had nothing left but hope. Not like he’d really gained Buffy’s heart. Oh, he knew the intention was there, that she felt something solid and powerful, but no words had been spoken, on either side. For that he was grateful, so very thankful he’d controlled himself earlier in the night and not spilled his heart forth for Buffy to stomp on when she’d heard of his journey and trampled the black tissue into dust.
“How about we start with who that woman was?”
When the voice finally broke through the silence, it startled Spike to an uncharacteristic jumpiness. With a resigned sigh, he gave in.
“Her name is Anya. She’s a vengeance demon.”
Despite the dejected posture and the glassiness to Spike’s eyes, Giles shivered at the evil implications of having a demon whose job it was to wreak vengeance in the name of those wronged so firmly and without invitation inside his house.
Yet she had sat beside him on his bed, a sad look in her eye as she worried about his state of health. How could he fear evil in someone who so obviously cared for him? Giles looked again at Spike. How could he indeed? This vampire, morose and conflicted, had been a welcome guest in his home now for weeks. Despite having no defences against the vampire if Spike should have felt the urge to go for his throat, Giles had no feelings of distrust toward him at all. Rather, Spike had saved his life. In his tired mind, Giles couldn’t help but remunerate the turn with patience and consideration. His world had indeed become a peculiar place.
“What business did she have here? With you?” Giles asked quietly, almost wishing he didn’t have to and could just pretend this cog had not been thrown into the works.
He felt that reluctance to know even more keenly as Spike struggled, the vampire’s expression pained and defeated. But Spike finally parted his lips, poised on the edge of revealing the truth of a situation that would be too far-fetched for consideration by anyone that wasn’t a Scooby.
“I never meant to do it,” he started on a defeated whisper. “Should have known to keep my bloody mouth closed, but we were talking, right? Both had our hearts shattered, both commiseratin’ like a couple of fools, and the words just popped out. Regrets, you know? An’ as sorry as I am now that it’s all about to hit the fan, I wouldn’t take it back. That’s why she popped in, asked me to take it back, but I’m stayin’ put. Know you’ll have problems with that, Rupes. But I’ve made a decision and it’s not up for discussion.”
Having taken so long to decide on what to say, Spike found that the words poured from his heart like a valediction. It was over; he knew it. But he wouldn’t go down leaving an impression that he’d done it for all the wrong reasons, even if he initially did. His wish might have been potentially disastrous, which would be a mite more fitting than the pleasure he’d had in getting to know this fresh, unscarred Buffy, but he could still help. Could still redirect the train wreck into a siding rather than let it wipe out the town with its devastation.
“A, vengeance demon, wreaks their vengeance how exactly? Have you done something terrible to Buffy and the rest of us?”
Spike marvelled at the calm inquiry, wondering if a shoe was about to drop much closer to his head than he might have been happy with. A subtle sniff of the air revealed no build-up of fear, no panicked desire to have Spike leave the flat by the fastest route possible—the dusty one. And it did nothing but compound his confusion.
“A wish. I made a stupid wish, half way drunk.” He raised his eyes to see if the Watcher was buying it and clenched his jaw at the obvious show of incredulity. “Alright, so I was more than a dozen sheets to the bleeding gale, but thought I was still pretty sensible, but she just kept plying me with the booze and whining over the Whelp, and I opened my big gob and shoved my feet down my throat.”
Giles couldn’t prevent the raised eyebrow at the creative imagery as the story unravelled.
“Made a wish, stupid mish-mash of words, wished I could do it all over again, do it different, an’ next thing I know is I’m back in the school with my second chance. An’ Buffy looking like the Angel she is.”
He finished by letting his weary head fall into his cupped hands, elbows propped on his thighs.
“Sometimes I completely forget you are a vampire.”
Spike’s head whipped up and Giles sucked in a surprised breath at the flow of tears the vampire had obviously been trying to conceal.
“Oh, Spike. You think I am going to condemn you, don’t you?” Giles felt his own throat become slightly thicker with a lump of sorrow and sympathy, but he pushed it on, trying to get to the bottom of the mystery before Buffy came barrelling back in with Jenny trailing behind her.
“You wished to do things over. So, er, how far in the future were you?”
Spike considered the man inclining further and further into his makeshift bed on the sofa as each minute ticked by. “You sure you’re up to this? Not a pretty bedtime story, and the more timely events for you aren’t so happy.”
But Giles didn’t even need to make a shot in the dark. Puzzle pieces suddenly dropped into place like they did after staring at them for days and getting nowhere fast. The actions of Spike, and the clues he had dropped along the way…
“Something happened to Jenny in your reality, didn’t it?”
Spike’s eyes became deadly in their cold determination.
“My reality is right now, Watcher. Nothing is goin’ to happen to your ladylove while I’m around. As long as you’re both sensible, and get a bloody move on with workin’ out that curse, we’ll all be fine.”
Giles nodded, finding that he couldn’t really stomach the possibility of what he was positive Spike was implying through his neglect of report.
“You said you were commiserating with this Anya, that you both had broken hearts? I take it you weren’t so successful in trying to form a relationship with Buffy in the future?”
The sadness in Spike’s eyes eclipsed any comment Giles thought to make regarding the inappropriateness of a vampire/slayer relationship. His current attitude had been to allow the match, seeing the endless possibilities in the actions Spike had undertaken in order to ensure Buffy’s extended future. He’d done more than allow it. In his heart he’d formed a small cheering section, joined he was sure by Willow and Xander. The brunette adolescent even more a member since his observation of Spike racing to Giles’s rescue.
“Buffy was a broken girl in my future. Torn out of heaven; couldn’t trust her friends, and wouldn’t trust a neutered, soulless demon. No matter how much I loved her. Angelus ruined her heart, took all she had to give. An’ you,” he finished in accusation, and Giles flinched with the unexpectedness of the attack. Not only was he surprised by the tone, but the action he was being accused of was unpalatable, despite the conviction of truth in Spike’s voice.
One thing clawed at his subconscious, wheedling its way to the fore, and as it rounded the final bend, Giles gasped. His heart felt a pang of pain he had stupidly hoped to postpone for many years to come after the experiences the previous year with the Master. But it was out there, whether intentional or not, Spike had left a revelation that he couldn’t leave untouched.
“Heaven?”
Just one word, and by the way the tears resurfaced in the vampires expressive eyes, Giles felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.
Spike gave him a single nod.
“Oh Lord.” Giles fell back the final distance, no energy able to hold him up any longer…not now he knew his Slayer died again.
“When?” He couldn’t wait for the answer. “And how did she come back? Was it another drowning?”
But the misery that aged the young appearance of the peroxided misfit was enough of a clue to make Giles shudder in delayed reaction.
“In about three years. Hell god gets the better of us and she has to sacrifice herself to save the world.” Despite the overwhelming grief that had rounded suddenly back upon him, Spike couldn’t help but smile his pride. To him, Buffy would always be one hell of a woman, and he wanted her to have that chance to mature. Wanted her to have chances full-stop.
“An’ how is she brought back? You’re little red witch was all behind that. Bint’s gettin’ dangerous. But your teacher should be able to slow her down, teach her the ropes and get her proper instruction maybe.”
The gasp from Giles was like a bullet in the silence, cracking with its impact.
“So that is why you are so determined she move in. Was it Angelus?”
Spike sighed, wanting to kick his own arse for not watching his words better. It was what had gotten him in this predicament in the first place.
“Yeah, mate. He’s a right wanker and buggers up all sorts of…look, it’s not productive to rehash all this. Just take it from me that the future is not a bunch of roses and be done with it. I’ll move out tomorrow, an’ I’ll stay away as best I can, but I’m not goin’ back. Can save lives an’ hearts this time, an’ I don’t just mean mine. Not goin’ to desert you lot with something like Angelus in the wings, jus’ waitin’ for the opportunity to eat you all alive.”
“Indeed. No point in worrying unnecessarily. You’ve already sufficiently changed things I would assume?”
The bark of laughter lacked humour and set Giles’s teeth on edge.
“Oh, I’ll say. Buffy didn’t have her heart torn apart by that vindictive bastard. An’ with a bit of luck, she won’t be too distraught about the situation and be able to kill him if the opportunity presents.”
Giles looked confused. “I thought the aim was to have him resouled?”
The contours of Spike’s face sharpened as he worked his jaw, anger and frustration opposing the commonsense that allowed a speck of affection for his grandsire, as well as the acknowledgment that the great lumbering git had a destiny to fulfill—was needed for the safety of more than just puppies and Christmas.
“The so-called aim is to prevent the wanker from killing you all. If your gypsy girl can’t translate the curse soon, and even better get rid of the bleeding loophole, then we’ve got to be prepared. Las’ time round some pretty heavy actions were needed. Your bird left behind the curse,” Spike ignored the sharp intake of breath. “Left Red to do the mojo to put the soul back in our dashing hero, but it wasn’ good for her. Too much magic way too soon, an’ she’s payin’ the price for it now.”
“I think I don’t want to know much more. I’m feeling rather ill. But, I assume that in this other life, you and I are not…”
“Not close, you lot can’t stand the sight of me. Happy to have me in a fight, to help protect you all when Buffy is dead, but any other time you’d all rather stake me than give me the time of day.”
It was said in an almost wounding bluntness that made Giles feel immediately ashamed.
“And Buffy?”
“Slayer hates my guts though I love her till the end of the world. Would die for her, and probably will one day. Certainly been tortured to protect her enough times. But I won’t take advantage, if that’s what you’re worryin’ about.”
“Actually, no. I find myself not worrying at all. Spike, the Giles and Scoobies you speak of are very different people. I cannot judge you on something I have not experienced. All you have shown us has been kindness and protective concern. I think you are truly a marvel for your species, and I would wish to discuss this with you another time. Particularly the neutered image you mentioned earlier. When this situation is dealt with, you can tell me more in depth about events as you’ve already experienced.”
The relief had Spike sagging in his chair.
Just one more thing needed to be sorted, though, and he berated himself for lacking the courage to dive in and attack it head on. Evidently his struggle was obvious to his quiet observer and Giles broached the topic instead.
“I have no intention of telling Buffy any of this now. I won’t interfere in what you are doing. You are welcome to stay here, though I acknowledge with Jenny, it could get a little crowded.”
The men shared a smile of understanding, and Spike added a chuckle at the picture of Giles actually sharing his very masculine space with a woman. Spike sent a silent wish that the Watcher might even find the opportunity to fit in a quality shag in between his multiple cups of tea.
“Right, so no spilling the beans to Buffy. An’ if she still wants to see me?” Shyness crept into his face at the last, eyes dropping to study nails with tiny flecks of black nail polish stubbornly sticking to the outer cuticle.
“I shan’t interfere. I’m rather hoping I will be otherwise occupied.”
Cocky grins bounced off each other as they sat back and relaxed, waiting finally for the Slayer to come back with her charge.
~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Without doubt, this had turned into the freakiest night on Buffy record. What had started out as a normal patrol with Angel had quickly progressed into one of the worst nights of her life. And that was saying something when it had to stand up against being killed by the Master. But how could she expect anything less when her life consisted of two possible suitors of the vampire persuasion? How many other teenagers went to bed each night agonising over which vampire to keep as her boyfriend?
Before Spike, the choice had seemed simple enough. Except, well, there was no choice. But the rules were pretty straightforward. Angel had a soul, so he was a good guy, despite being a bad guy for the first half of his existence. There was that little thing about his only having a soul in the first place because he picked on the wrong gypsy tribe, but he was making up for it. Really, there was no question that Angel was the better choice, he was all souled and had been helping her save the world for a whole, well, year and a half. And before that? For the hundred years he’d already had his soul? Rats. Alleyways and rats and no to the world saveage.
Which is where the comparison to Spike not only became very deep and muddied, but also a whole lot of complicated. Because he was the outlaw, the troublemaker that bucked all the rules so all you could do was discard all your assumptions about life, about right and wrong, and start restructuring your beliefs from scratch.
Spike may have kissed his way into her life, winning her with massive sex appeal while cashing on teenage hormonal curiosity, but he was so much more than that. Buffy melted every time she recognised an emotion in his eyes, every time she was the recipient of one of those hot looks. Sure, there was an amazing attraction between them that she couldn’t ignore, even if she had tried to. But there was something more meaningful there, something that treated them both with care as it carried them along a path toward each other. Something that paved the way for him to enter her heart and change her life so radically.
Spike was an evil demon; there was no argument there. He had no soul, no apparent moral compass to keep him on the straight and narrow. No obvious one, at least from what Buffy could see. Yet he was there, fighting with her, fighting to protect her.
And without struggling to make a choice at all, she fell in love with him.
The revelation was the first time she took the risk of admitting it to herself. The first time she allowed herself to recognise that it was possible to feel that way for something she shouldn’t. What they had, this attraction, this burning need Buffy felt to be with him, seemed way too normal. Angel had taught her that love was all with the angst and the mystery and the abnormality with the bumpies.
But Spike wasn’t like that. Most of the time, Buffy forgot that he was even a vampire. He rarely suited up, even in the most vicious fights, and certainly not from kissing her. She figured he had a tighter reign on his demon—either that or it was weaker in him and that was why he was so different.
But the night was way high on her wigged out scale. And Spike had featured strongly in all events. Evil, hurtful, scary events that made her fearful that, despite not really having that hard a decision of whether to belong to Spike or Angel, she’d almost lost the very thing she was anxious not to.
Tears threatened as Buffy replayed the bitter words, the stark fury and rage that had exploded from Spike the second he’d caught up to her. Having already built herself up to a high of self-castigation for making the mistake of supporting Angel against him, his attacking words had flayed her and left her fearful, so very terrified that he was about to punish her for the blunder by denying her of his presence in her life.
But it had all been a misunderstanding, which was good for her, but way bad for everyone in the long run. But the main point right now was that Spike was still her
...was Spike her boyfriend? The thought made her smile, so she sure hoped so. There was so much yet that she hadn’t experienced with Spike, so much she wanted to be taught, so much she wanted to say to him…
But now Angelus was on the loose and for some reason that was completely a mystery to her, Giles was frantically following Spike’s advice. Acting almost like he’d done this scene before. Which so wasn’t possible. And yet, without question he’d assumed the role of leader. Admittedly he knew the foe firsthand, and Giles was weaker than a newborn kitten, but still. Wasn’t she the Slayer?
The pout was childish, but after the emotional rollercoaster she’d ridden the whole night, she felt she should be forgiven for it in the let down. Still, the thing between she and Spike was settled for now…except for the fact that the idiot actually thought she’d left Giles’s to go sleep the sleep of the lusty soul depriving with Angel. Funny how that scenario, once imagined with a regularity that was embarrassing, now made her feel slightly ill.
Buffy felt herself on the edge of an inner rant of gigantic proportions, but was unable to indulge it as she quickly closed in on her destination. The apartment building stood still and large, and mostly dark bar from the light spilling from one tiny window and the open door of a small cream VW bug. The trunk of the car also was propped open and Buffy could see a suitcase and computer equipment—the dead giveaway in her book that this was Ms. Calendar’s car. She’d made it and no Angelus in sight. She only hoped there was some wood around so she didn’t jinx herself. Looking around she became aware of the pointy piece sticking into her back, and smiled as she took it out and gave it a repeated bunt with her knuckles. Nobody could accuse Buffy of bringing hell to her heels with the jinxyness. Thanks to her trusty stake she was all jinx free!
The signs of hurried packing was another thing to add to Buffy’s weird night. Okay, so they were all unsafe now that Angelus was on the rampage, or at least that was what Spike was implying. Buffy found it hard to believe, what with the example of Spike and the previous possession of a soul, that Angel’s transformation to Angelus wouldn’t be as evil and filled with terror as one might have first expected. So, wasn’t it a little extreme for Spike to get all demandy about Ms. Calendar becoming Giles’s newest houseguest? And Giles with all the agreeing?
Buffy shrugged and then jumped almost right out of her skin when a hand rested firmly against her shoulder. Instinct drove her and before she knew it she’d shoved her teacher against her car with a hand squeezing her neck. As soon as the recognition filtered through her brain, Buffy let go abruptly. She took a large step back and rushed in with her apologies.
“I am soo sorry. I was thinking…and well, you startled me.”
Jenny Calendar rubbed her neck before allowing a nervous smile to touch her lips.
“Completely my fault, Buffy. I was taking my life into my own hands by walking up behind you.”
They both sighed and almost simultaneously turned to scan the darkness of the night. When her gaze returned to the car and the dark haired gypsy woman, she noticed the light in the building behind was no longer shining.
"Ready, then?" Buffy prompted and they both got in the car.
"Has Angel been inside anyone else's house besides Rupert's?"
Buffy took a moment to think abut her friends, already knowing that her own house wasn’t safe and suddenly grateful her mom had gone out of town on yet another gallery inspired purchase trip.
"Pretty sure he never made it into Xander's place, but I'm not sure about Willow's. And mine is a definite danger zone."
Jenny was nodding, already cataloguing the ingredients she would need to protect the other houses. She had enough in her satchel to disinvite Angelus from Rupert's house, but not for any others for what was left of the night.
The car pulled to a stop out the front of Willow's house and Buffy dragged Ms. Calendar along with her to retrieve her friend. She knocked on the door to Willow's room, glad not for the first time of the private access to her friend, and sighed from a pent up fear that she hadn't even realised she was feeling.
Explanations were swift, and only made marginally more sense to Buffy than they did Willow. While the danger was revealed, Willow went about packing a change of clothes and a toothbrush and then locked up behind her before following them back to the car. Buffy paused at the door, the hairs suddenly prickling at the back of her neck. She knew without a doubt that Angelus was here, and he was watching. Well, good! She was glad he knew they were on to him, although perhaps he didn't know that. And gah! Could things just slow down a little?
With a shiver of apprehension, she shooed the other two in the car and encouraged Jenny to put her foot to the floor and turn the car toward Giles'. She didn't know about anyone else, but exhaustion was making her limbs lethargic and she was more than keen to get home to bed. And if that bed consisted of a set of arms to hold her and keep her safe, then she was so gonna be the happy girl tonight
. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Buffy heard the telltale voices of the two men as she approached the door. The watcher and the vampire. It was a strange combination, but get Xander in there and she would have all three of her favourite men in the same room. But when she’d left, Giles had been looking frail as Spike led him to the sofa. She'd never seen her Watcher weak, never seen him so close to death, and as her only parental figure that truly knew what she was, his near loss was frightening to her.
Willow and Ms. Calendar waited behind her—arms full with various bits of a computer—as Buffy shouldered her way indoors. The night had just dragged on forever and her muscles were burning with the need to rest. Gaining entry they came to a stop as Giles weakly attempted to struggle to his feet and both Spike and Ms. Calendar rushed to push him back.
Talk was minimal, Buffy participating in none of it as she used a mash of tired head jerking and pointed stares to tell Spike to move it and drive them home. Somewhere behind her haze of exhaustion, she heard Spike and Willow offer goodnights, and Buffy couldn’t help but snipe internally about how so far, it had been the night from hell.
During the slow blink of her eye, the trio found themselves outside in the barely darkened sky and standing in front of a classic hunk of junk. Buffy hadn't experienced a ride in Spike's monstrosity that he so lovingly passed off as a car, but she was so tired right now she would have been happy to be driven home in a streetsweeper.
It was testament to the night so far, that as soon as Spike turned on the engine some repulsive mix of what she so did not call music came blaring from the speakers. It woke her up like a bucket of icy water wouldn’t have.
“What the hell do you have against my eardrums?” she screeched.
The incensed look she had going on turned her face a becoming shade of pink—and Spike loved it. With the night they’d all had, he felt it important to focus on the love, the things about her that were special. As he clicked the tape deck off, cutting his favourite song criminally short, he felt an overpowering urge to show every living cell on her body how bloody much he thought she was special.
The trip was short but once the rusting pile of Detroit scrap iron clattered to a stop in the driveway, everyone clambered out and released tremendous sighs of relief. Door shut, Willow shown to Joyce’s room, Buffy left Spike wandering around looking at pictures in the living room while she went to the bathroom. A shower was doing more than singing to her—rather it sounded like that bad screaming crap Spike called music. So, with a groan of satisfaction Buffy felt the pulsing needles of hot water massage her skin till she was almost completely lulled to sleep. It wasn’t until the water sprayed her cold that she shivered and rushed to turn it off, climbing out and putting on her robe.
It hadn’t been discussed where Spike was going to sleep, and Buffy felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t followed her upstairs, even if she was thinking naughty thoughts that she couldn’t possibly indulge in. The fact that she had gone so far already was pushed to the back of her mind. The point was, he hadn’t followed her up. He was obviously planning on standing guard for the night, watching over and protecting her from a possible attack from Angelus.
With sleepiness edging back in and a feeling of dejected unattractiveness, she made it back to her room. As she turned and closed the door behind her, she was seized from behind and pushed up against the vertical surface. Not hard, but the body flush against her, holding her in place, was strong and steady. Determined to play.
“You naked under there, pet?”
Buffy shuddered at the hot tone, the cold tongue tracing a line up the side of her throat. She could feel his hands teasing the tie of her robe in the small space between her body and the door. His lips closed around the patch of skin his tongue had bathed, and he sucked. His teeth nipped and he sucked, the pressure growing until she could feel the sweet sting of pain as her blood was pulled to the surface.
She forgot language as his explorative fingers found the cooled skin of her belly, the tie falling away and the robe pushed slightly open. He rubbed his fingertips in a line up and down, from breastbone to pubis, blowing softly on the wet spot of her neck. Goosepimples tore to the surface and she felt herself shake under his touch. The desire to feel him, look at him was so strong, but he held her with determination against the door, having too much fun with the teasing.
Buffy felt the lust fairy perch on her shoulder and guided her. It told her that by pushing her ass into his crotch she would feel the slide of wetness as it escaped her pussylips, desperate for some kind of resolution. She rejoiced in his growl, began moving her body against his hand as he resumed the repetitive stroking, encouraging the boundaries to both go lower and higher.
A weeping cry tore from her throat as a finger brushed the swell of her breast and the softness of her curls. She braced her hands against the door, then began to rub her ass against his erection, tears coming to her eyes as his roughened fingertips finally scraped over her eager nipple, faintly swiped over her clit.
“Spike,” she whimpered and at last he turned her around and slammed her back into the wood pannelling, bruising her lips with a fierce kiss that drove her out of her mind. His lips fell open, the softness her undoing as she searched for his tongue, sucking it into her mouth like she’d hungered for it for years. His taste was like a drug, so bitter from cigarettes that settled into a strong burn from alcohol. Separately they would make Buffy want to puke, but together it was a magical mix that convinced her she was a goddess, on the planet to do nothing but drink from him.
He was panting when he pulled away, watching as the blankness faded from Buffy’s eyes and she was able to comprehend that she was standing essentially naked in front of him. A soulless vampire that she was falling over a cliff in love for. Though she wanted to be shy, protect herself from his sight and the possible rejection if she wasn’t quite what he wanted, she made herself be courageous and do nothing. Say nothing. Hide nothing.
That he could be repulsed by any part of her was discarded almost immediately as her whole body flushed from his hungry gaze. His look of wonder elicited a response of preparation. Her nipples hardened, she gushed with wanting him in places new. She sucked in her belly to push out her breasts further, almost frantic now for his touch, for his mouth to take her in places he hadn’t yet explored. Breath rushed from her lungs as his warm tongue circled a nipple before his mouth sucked it inside.
“Buffy,” he hissed against the tautness of her bulging nub. Thought chased themselves around his brain, fears surfacing even now in this moment of bliss. Spike was terrified it would still be snatched from him, this skin never his to possess, to love and worship for the rest of their days. Paranoid that no matter what he did, she could never love him, would never want to join her life with his.
He buried his face against her flesh, licking the nipple and suckling like a newborn as tears welled in his eyes. It was urgent—the need to say the words, set himself in her favour forever more. The uncertainty was sending him mad as surely as the continual denials and fists of his future Buffy had done.
And only one question could settle it all, let him know his place, let him hold success or failure in his grip. The tears were held tight as he took a breath and kept his eyes squeezed shut, kept his face against her breast.
“Buffy,” he tried again, his voice hoarse with his fear of repetition. “Tell me you’re my girl.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I am so grateful for everyone that ahs persevered with this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter.