It was anticlimactic.
Pounding down the pavement, sidestepping minor as well as major skirmishes as she led Willow to Giles’s. Then more deflation as they were told to come in and wait, that Spike and Giles knew what the problem was and were off in their heroic way dealing with it. Buffy pouted as she sat on the sofa, losing Willow to the excitement of a computer program designed to collar the wayward Angel.
In the end, Buffy decided the neglect didn’t matter. It freed her up to daydream about steamy moments with Spike, letting her newly initiated passion run free with her imagination and desire for experiences with him. Thus, here she sat in her enticing Xena costume which left too much skin bared and puckering as an open window rushed a cool wind through that tickled her skin. Sexy she-warrior without her Hercules to drag her off to the bedroom.
Buffy pouted some more. It was their last night together before Xander moved in with him and she was all go-girl for taking advantage of that fact. ‘Cause wild monkey-lovin’ with one of your best friends next door? Kind of on the inhibiting side. Even though she could see the wisdom of Xander being there; there was no way she wanted Spike exposed to the possibility of Angelus and Dru’s retribution for his rejection of them. It kind of put a frustrating halt to her love life.
She was forced out of her introspection by the loud arrival of Xander and Cordelia.
“Where is it? I’ll kill it. Tear its eyelashes off and plait a noose to hang it with. How dare I be made someone’s butt monkey again?”
“Xan, nice idea. Creative even, but if there was any monster out there responsible for this, it would have decapitated you before you even got close to plucking out its eyelashes.” Buffy stood with the girls as they each struggled to hold themselves aloof, a fuming Xander doing a mocking version of the snoopy dance as he tried to find words.
And then he deflated and the girls smiled at him. Cordelia even offered him the comfort of her usual snark.
“Face it, Harris. You’re just bummed because a girl could steal your gun.” And she smirked as her eyes swept over his body. “Not that that’s even worth stealing.”
She trounced over to the door, limp cat ears torn and a little to the side. “I have to go and get changed. I obviously can’t go to the Halloween party at the Bronze like this.” And she was gone, disappearing into an uncertain night as the rest waited for confirmation from Giles that the villain was caught and disarmed.
And then the spirit of the irrepressible Xander defunked as he focused on the cheerleader’s words. “Hey,” he shouted, bouncing on his feet with new and vigorous enthusiasm. “Bronze. Party. Are we still on for scary goodness?” His eyes found an unexpected target in still skimpily dressed Willow and his vision glazed.
“You betcha,” confirmed Buffy, hoping that it wouldn’t take her long to ditch her friends and convince Spike they needed to inspect his bed for loose screws. Buffy giggled to herself, finding it beyond amusing that everything she thought about now was tainted with the recall of Spike and the yummy way he bathed her with his tongue.
Her agreement coincided with the drooling return of Xander’s eyes to her heavily revealed cleavage and Spike’s entrance through the front door. There was silence as Buffy stood still, unconsciously pushing her breasts out as Spike’s hungry eyes swept over her get-up lustily.
“What’s that, luv?” His voice had lowered to almost a growl as his eyes caught on the circular shape of each breast cup of her skimpy leather bustier, burning the strips of flesh poking out from beneath the protection of dead animal flesh with his cold heat.
Buffy felt her face light up, felt her body shudder with the intense tingling of little piercing pricks of desire as his eyes roved all over her. She felt hot and itchy and instead of moving, instead of answering him, she made plans with her eyes. Making up her mind, she grabbed her coat from where she had flung it earlier over the sofa arm, and stepped forward to grab Spike’s arm.
“Why Spike,” she addressed him, naughty things heavily suggestive in the low husky rumble of her voice. “You’re not even dressed for Halloween. Have to be all dressed up for the party at the Bronze,” she emphasised to him rather boldly, sneaking a peak at her surprised friends over her shoulder.
“Obviously Spike forgot about the Bronze,” she told them all while pushing him hard toward the door. “I guess we’ll just have to go and look through his wardrobe to see what we can come up with.” A final shove and Spike slammed into the closed door, clipping Giles with the propelled arch of his elbow.
“Oops, sorry Giles. Didn’t see you close the door. Gotta go. Hurry up, Spike.”
“What’s you’re bleeding rush, Slayer? I’m not gonna be dressin’ up in some pansy costume when I can just flash a bit of fang and be all authentic like.”
She stopped just as the door was flung almost too violently against the wall.
“You have to dress up, Spike. It’s the rule.”
There was no more time for confrontation. Slayer hands pushed him back through the doorway and rushed him out into the night, grumbling about bloody women and stupid expectations all the way. Behind them a quiet gathering pondered the display, before figurative heads were scratched and plans formed. It was not a surprise when Willow and Xander left immediately for the Bronze and Giles and Jenny struggled anew with the soul translation.
It was a night divided.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Not one step out of the complex and Buffy had Spike pinned to the outer wall with her lips sucking the life out of him.
“Been wanting to feel you all night,” she growled against his lips, her hand urgently seeking his hard flesh under the tightness of his tee. “Missed you at my unveiling.”
Spike wrenched away from her, a naughty gleam in his eye tickling her insides to a butterfly frenzy.
“Might’ve missed me, pet, but I’m bloody certain nobody missed you.”
She pouted her hurt. “You didn’t miss me?”
Spike’s eyebrow rose to brush a stubborn curl that had fallen from his gelled cap. “Didn’ say that.” His obvious lack of missing her right now poked into her belly as he seized her again, and the real meaning of his words burned strongly onto her face.
“Xander said it was a bedroom costume. Said he could almost see my nipples.” She giggled as an angry vampire crushed her lips with his, mashed against teeth and drawing small sips of blood.
“Xander is to never see your nipples. No bloke is to ever see your nipples,” he whispered harshly against her as he tugged one of her leather-clad breasts free, the nipple pointed straight to his lips. He obeyed the command and sunk onto her, sucking it agonisingly hard into his mouth, his cheeks becoming concave as he sucked the engorged nipple deeper into his throat.
She moaned against him. The feeling of the erotic in a vampire supping blood from her lips and wishing he would take more from her, secretly cursing herself for putting the date of her birthday out there for the final breach of her Slayer. Breaching it further by being exposed to all who passed as he tugged and sucked her breast into his mouth, teeth scraping bluntly against the bulging flesh beyond the areola. One leg climbed over his hip, clamping him against her as she rubbed her dampened crotch against his. The short leather skirt flared around her hips, her ass naked bar for the tiny strip if fabric that dived between her ass cheeks. She felt so hot she thought she’d combust, not caring in the slightest about whoever could possibly cop a free show.
The lusty haze around them dissipated a little as they heard voices, recognising Willow and Xander as they left Giles’s and closed the door with a distracted thump. Buffy pulled Spike into the shadows cast by a tree and delved her hand into his pants, feeling the rush of knowing she was about to feel naked hard flesh against her eager hand, even as her friends came closer to them.
“Want you,” he whispered against her lips, biting his lip as her hand drove a frantic beat into him, cupping his balls and sliding her fingers over the full length of him to the tip. The slow steps of her friends as they paused, doing the gentle trip to flirting had them hanging around for a lot longer than Spike was happy with, but the fireball in his arms didn’t seem to be letting it affect her need. He hissed sharply as she pulled him fully out of his pants, his arms useless bar for holding her as she suddenly slung a leg back around him, swept her panties to the side and teased her slit with his throbbing head. Her slippery juices quenched a little of the fire, but the rapidity of it all thrilled him so much and he had to bite his tongue from groaning louder and alerting her friends to what they were up to. His damaged Buffy would have done this, but not with the freedom of her heart as she made love to him in the open. If her friends caught them, she’d be embarrassed and probably do a lot of giggling. But the other Buffy, the one he was slowly letting go, would punch him in the nose, be disgusted with herself for being caught loving another vampire and race home, contemplating all the while whether she should dust him despite knowing she needed him.
All thought ceased, however, as he felt her determined push down on him, allowing the head of his cock to nudge at her opening and spread the entry wide, pausing in that place as she cried out high in her throat. He kissed her hard, desperately, unable to bear the thought of being caught now and having to stop. She bounced a little and he slipped a tiny bit more, quickly placing his hand around the top of his cock so she couldn’t get him in any further. She pumped him slowly; just that small part of him surging into her entrance and building up the sweetest tension that craved something so much deeper.
“Did you hear something?” Willow’s nervous voice almost made him want to shout, but he held the leg around him, kept kissing Buffy until she was mindless and allowed his hand to fall a finger back so a little more of his length felt the wet heat of his love’s pussy. Buffy didn’t even react, just kept gyrating her hips over him, her hands clamping around his head as she held him to her, one breast exposed and rubbing against fabric.
“Nah. Probably just some more of the little monsters heading home from trick-or-treating. So Will, Buffy help you pick out the outfit?” And Spike zoned out, an aggravating swirl starting in his balls. He slipped his grip further back again, now half of his cock free to give his girl pleasure. His other hand had been stroking her back, falling against the zip that held her bustier together. As slowly as he could he lowered it, allowing her breasts to fall from the toughened leather as he turned then and braced her back against the trunk of the tree.
Releasing her bruised and puffy lips, he whispered in her ear. “Quiet now, pet, or they’ll hear. Don’t want to have to stop now, do you?” Her frantic shake in the negative won a smirk, and he buried his mouth against her breasts, still pumping his half mast into her as her hands reached behind to grip the tree and she lifted her other leg up around his waist.
She tugged the hand away that was preventing her from having all of his hard strength inside her, slipping down finally so that his balls slapped her gently on the ass. One arm clung to the tree behind her as the other came up to cup her free breast, twisting and pinching the sensitive bud between her fingers. As she plucked it and rolled it, Spike nipped the other with his teeth, all to the melody of their friend’s voices as she slid up and down, her wet passage sucking against him in hungry passion.
Buffy could feel her whole body tingle, little shivers building to a deeper vibration that had her break out in a heated flush. The girth of him stretching her, pushing her pussy to its outer limits was a sensation like no other. His coolness tipped her over an edge she had never expected, turning her lubrication into an icy fire that scorched her as well as him. As his tip found her spot down deep she writhed, biting hard on her lip to stop the need to cry his name from tearing from her lips and getting them caught. Her insides buzzed, echoing a trail through her pussy, to her belly, to shoot glorious tingles to the tips of her nipples, her flesh releasing a sweat from too much tease.
“Spike, Spike, Spike, Spike…” Her lips formed the words but she was a good girl and kept the volume and intent to herself, her body beginning to bracket itself against the tree as she squeezed her muscles hard, massaging Spike’s cock into a throbbing pain. He attempted to pull out only to be gripped in some form of punishment, the fire in his balls beginning to pulse in some angry objection to how long he was taking to empty himself. She relaxed and he seized the chance, pumping her hard enough to have splinters embed in her back, their mutual pleasure too much to expose them yet to the reality of pain or accident.
With a gurgled incomprehensible word, Buffy felt herself flying off some kind of ledge, her arms falling forward and nearly crushing Spike’s face to her neck as she pumped him relentlessly, startling stabs of intense pleasure screaming through her blood until her artery pounded in her throat. She needed his fangs so much, wanted to feel that piercing in her neck so badly that she almost wept when Spike shot viciously within her, his come slamming into her core in decisive bursts. The head of his cock pulsed against her constrictive walls, and yet there was not even a nick in her flesh from his teeth. Heavy pants frightened her tiny hairs on end as he gasped into her throat. Though disappointed that she still didn’t know the pleasure of his bite, her rapid breathing told the truth of how much pleasure he gave her. She kissed his neck in many tiny butterfly touches and held him to her tight, all the while listening to her friends as they finally reached the end of the courtyard and left.
“Sweetheart, you can dress up like Xena whenever you want to. In fact, leave that little costume at my place. Might come in handy some time.” His breath into her neck caused little shivers to run in delight through her body and he squeaked as she hugged him hard.
“I’m sure you can think of lots of costumes we could try out.”
Spike’s mind flew down memory lane, remembering a time when Xander and Anya had delved into the fun side of love with nurse uniforms and the like. He grinned, wondering what the boy was likely to make of the demongirl once he was through crafting him into being the kind of bloke that could properly appreciate a lady like Anyanka.
“I’m more’n happy to go home and hang that costume in my closet right now. ‘S already half off.”
“Oh,” Buffy eeped as she hurriedly pushed him away, almost falling to her feet as she rushed to reposition her outfit. She turned and gave him her back. “Please,” she asked and he became captivated by the bare expanse of her back. She wiggled her ass at him to snap his attention back from wherever he had disappeared to, and almost sighed into another round of hot tree sex at the feel of his hands on her flesh.
“Every little piece of you is so erotic; from the tan of your skin, to that little mole near your pussy, to that little snub of your nose. You take my breath away every time I look at you.” He whispered it into the naked expanse of her throat, his fingers itching to tear away the brown wig that hid the extent of her light.
She turned and told him everything that words couldn’t express just with the glitter of her eyes.
“You know how I kinda told you I love you when we…you know?”
His heart froze, an agony so deep piercing the very depths of him as he waited for the inevitable—the retraction that would make so much more sense than what he had received from this angel so far.
“Yeah.” His voice was nothing more than a croak, lost to the sensuality of the night while he waited for his heart to be broken yet again. Either she didn’t see the pain that dwelled in the deepening navy of his irises, or she just ignored it. Whatever she was feeling left a smile tugging at her lips as she ran a light finger over the jagged scar of his eyebrow.
“It’s not enough to really tell you how I feel. I adore you and how you make me feel. Wanton and special all in the same beat. You make my skin prickle just from thinking about you. You make me feel so strong from knowing you’re there by my side. I,” she cast her eyes downward, suddenly embarrassed about how deep this little smutfest had gotten. She could have been arrested for almost nude sex against a tree in a semi-public place and she was shy about telling the vamp she loved that what she felt so far surpassed that that it terrified and invigorated her at the same time. “I don’t ever want to lose you. You are in my heart, in my soul, in me so deep that I don’t ever want to let you out.”
“Buffy?” The awe in his eyes was not new; he guessed it was the same look he had given the night he had found a resurrected Slayer afraid on her own staircase. But this time it was for him as well—he’d gained something so monumental in coming back that it scared the arse out of him while he waited for Anyanka to pop back up and offer to take it all away again. And what was with that? How could things be anything but better for the little ex-demon now that he’d taken Xander into his influence?
But for this moment now, he had tears in his eyes—a dearth of emotion already clogging his throat and drowning him in eternal promises. And then he was kissing the life out of her, claiming her lips in a rush before they slipped away to utter inconsequential clap-trap about the Bronze and her friends. He wanted this moment to cherish, to hold in his head until the moment he was dusted and could hold it no more. Because for him, this was it, that tiny second when he knew that what he’d done would make it all come out right. He’d saved her; he was certain of it. Given her such a different outlook that offers of making her death be anyone’s gift would no longer be considered. Not contemplated.
She didn’t know, just accepted his happiness, kissed him quick before finally pulling them away from the tree and to the Bronze. Nothing could get in the way of Halloween night at the Bronze.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Willow spotted them the second they walked through the doors. With Buffy falling out of her costume and Spike emulating himself—the Big Bad. The redhead wore a miserable defeated smile as she greeted them, desperately sucking the last of her cola through a distressingly mangled straw.
Buffy and Spike shared a concerned glance before sliding into seats beside each other and contemplated what could be wrong. One quickly diverted look to the dance floor in search of Xander and Buffy’s eyes bugged.
“Oh, Will,” she sighed.
Spike took a second to catch the view that Buffy did but when he saw the brunette couple grooving to the beat he found it impossible to beat back a smile. So, despite the little flirty tête-à-tête earlier while he had been seeing to his girl, the whelp still fell back into a certain pattern. All bode well for Anya then. Spike suddenly had visions of Anya arriving on the scene—all newly humanised—only to encounter a Xander firmly ensconced in a relationship with Willow. All the bad connotations of that though made his head hurt.
“Red, he’s not the one for you. Got much brighter things in your future. Keep them pretty eyes open and you just might run into one right soon like.” With a parting grin, he grabbed Buffy’s hand and pulled her into his dance embrace and tucked her head under his chin, all the better to get caught in sensual fantasies inspired by the cocktail of her hair.
“Thanks.”
Spike pulled back a fraction, having no clue what he was receiving a thanks for but happy enough to accept it now that all the feel goods were flying around in his favour.
“Why’s that, pet?”
“For trying to make Willow feel better about Xander dancing with Cordy.”
Spike’s smile hid secrets, but he bundled her back in close to his chest and thanked whatever Powers that had given him this.
“It’s all true; little Red has bigger things comin’ her way if she only opens her eyes. Bein’ together would be wrong for those two. Take a look, luv.” He jerked his head in the direction of a couple in the middle of the floor, the boy doing wild and whacky moves that had all that surrounded him stepping back to protect themselves. Cordelia was slowly distancing herself, a humiliated smile of forbearance claiming her lips as she encountered amused glances.
Buffy giggled. “Yeah, those two look pretty cute together.”
And that was what this moment was all about. Being together; holding each other until there was nothing of life left to cling to. Waiting to outlive eternity as long as they held each other close. It made Spike feel warmed and loved and wouldn’t you just know it had to be the moment he felt the pull of his blood.
His body tensed as he tried to block it out, instantly knowing that as much as he’d given away his right to be with Dru, he could never ignore her when she was close. It wasn’t a Siren’s call exactly, but a call for obedience. A call for acknowledgment that he took time willing himself to overlook.
And then that nasty taste was in his mouth, seeping over his tongue of the displeasure of his family. The cold fury of their perception of his defection crept over his skin until he felt like ice to the touch and Buffy flinched away from him.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked in concern, feeling the alteration in him and seeing in an instant the change of his eyes to the amber glow that meant he was forcing himself to stay at her side.
It was a shock, to see Spike’s demon teetering on the edge of something she couldn’t even pretend to understand while she stood beside him not knowing if her world was about to come crashing to the ground or if Spike’s control was being compromised in some way.
Even a sombre yellow turned on her failed to force her back, and when he closed them tight against something, his hands holding hers in a grip so desperate it scared her for him rather than of him.
“Spike?” The tears trapped in her throat hurt, made it difficult to swallow and as she concentrated on that—on trying to breathe and again talk—she failed to notice the altered state around her.
Willow had her eyes trained on a member of the band, but to Buffy there was no sound around her except for the rough rasping breath squeezing past the emotion that was swamping her heart and right up to her throat. Xander pushed Cordy just that little bit too far and she stalked off, flinging the usual insults of inadequacy over her shoulder as she headed for the back door.
Then some long buried sense kicked in and she felt it—welcomed the rush of knowing exactly what was here and destroying her smoochy time with her honey. Spike had not yet recovered, still clung to his steadfast position—but now Buffy knew.
“You don’t belong to her anymore,” she hissed at him angrily and his eyes flew open, sapphire blue cooling her with a complete grip on sanity that she immediately sagged against his chest and felt like weeping.
“I know. ‘M yours, Buffy. To do with what you will.”
And right now she willed great things, wanting to stamp her foot when she wasn’t transported away from there and into naked playtime in Spike’s new bed.
“What do they want?” she asked instead, knowing she had no choice but to go out and find them, stop them from killing when she was but a step away.
“They want us. You to torture and kill; me to torture and well, torture would be my guess.” His lips looked like the smile he wore was new to his face, so marked with age all of a sudden that he looked almost another person.
So the game had begun and Buffy wasn’t going to settle back and let them have the first round.
“Where?” She was decisive, the Slayer an edge of steel despite her usual temperance with her inner girl.
Spike nodded toward the back door and something clicked in Buffy’s mind.
Cordy was outside.
The knowledge gripped her with cold fingers of dread. Buffy reached for her stake and took off for the door, the metal making a very loud and startling bang as it bounced off the wall.
Her feet kept her momentum forward as her mind began the scream—not again. She couldn’t do this again. Watch a friend—someone she knew lose their life because of knowing her. Cordelia lay almost limp in the arms of Angelus, blood dribbling to his chin as he released his fangy grip to flash Buffy a triumphant grin.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my little Slayer. How’s it hangin’, Buff? Oh that’s right, you’ve got yourself a new set of balls by the name of William.”
“Shut your gob, you tosser. Can’t play fair so you attack the Slayer’s friends. Shoulda known you’d come out with the obvious tactics. Not like you’ve got the brain capacity in that overloaded noggin’. Can hear your bloody brain rattle as soon as you shake your head.” Except it wasn’t the poof’s brain that was rattling. Spike was plenty shaken that one of the Scooby group was being supper for his hated grandsire.
Buffy’s eyes locked on the dazed ones of Cordelia as she implored her to come to her rescue. Weakness was obvious in her limbs as she succumbed to the vampire’s grip, not able to even stand on her own anymore through loss of blood.
Before Buffy or Spike could move—before Angelus had turned his head and indicated the presence of Dru at his back—Xander came flying through the same abused door.
“Let her go you big coward,” he screeched in panic, faltering only slightly as Angelus laughed sardonically, holding his food tightly around the shoulders and lifting her up and down to show the balance of power.
“Not likely, little guy. But I’ll leave her body here just for you.” And he bent his head, about to relatch his fangs to her already marked throat in an effort to finish her off. Feeding in front of them was to show no fear, to put them so far off balance that it would render Buffy too emotional to fight well.
It didn’t.
It produced a hard rage that spread throughout her body and settled in the fist that held her stake.
She pounced.
The second she got close, Angelus thrust Cordelia’s lax body at her in an effort to distract her and get away. Buffy caught the cheerleader—just as Angelus grasped Dru’s hand— tossing her again back to Spike and lunging at the fleeing pair. She kicked the tall brunette in the back, his hand almost tearing from the strong grip he held with the darker vampiress.
It wasn’t until facing the furiously calm face of Drusilla that Buffy felt the ice patch splinter inside her and she found herself drifting forward and lowering her stake. Then Spike held her in his arms, shaking sense back into her limbs and the fight resumed, her warrior beside her. He stood off against Dru while Buffy returned to the less creative in a fight—Angelus. She struck against his face and chest and gut a number of times, excited each time he seemed to falter in his retaliation.
Receiving a punch from the recently desouled Angel did more than hurt. Buffy felt it beyond weird to find herself on the vicious end of his fists as she ducked and dived his not quite precise attacks. But her mind voluntarily shut down as the fight continued, preserving her against the devastation of having to kill someone who had long been her protector, her friend, and almost her lover.
“So, you like your men cold, Precious. How nice. Might get me a bit of ass then, too. What d’ya say?”
“I say no dice. Isn’t it obvious? I have discerning taste in vamps. To be my lover you have to know how to use it, Big Boy…I’m betting you have even less skills in bed than you do with your fists.”
He held in his reaction but Buffy could see the cold hard reality of her hit in the way his beady eyes burned yellow. It caused shivers from all the way inside, even if she was proud of herself for not rising to the bait.
“Ah well. Who needs to climb on top when you’ve got everything on display anyway. Nice costume, Buff. Where’d you pick it up? Slutbombs-are-us?”
Buffy spoke with her feet and grinned savagely as they connected with his chest, satisfaction hurting her heart as Angelus flew away from her and slammed into a pile of garbage. And he was finally down, Buffy rushing over to take advantage of the moment of stunned immobility. Just as she was about to thrust her stake into the evil heart, a fist enclosed her wrist, pulling her away from the reclining body.
Buffy followed the arm with confused eyes, wondering why she had been stopped from ending this situation now. Spike offered nothing, just watched as a moaning and terrified Dru gathered Angelus up and hurried him out of the alley. The female looked her well-dressed best. No blood dripped from her face, no cuts or bruises marred her ‘perfect in death’ complexion.
Buffy almost swayed on the spot as she realised while she had been beating the crap out of Angelus, Spike had been what? Chatting with his sire and catching up on all the goss?
“Tell me why she isn’t dust?” Buffy snarled furiously through clenched teeth. “Better yet, explain to me why Angelus isn’t blowing in the wind?”
The controlled bubble of rage radiated throughout her body and she felt something hot and indescribable as she took in the guilty shrug of her lover. Blood pooled in the corner of her mouth as hurt prickled her eyes. He’d stopped her from killing them, and as that realisation began to take hold, her body reacted with a persistent shake.
Spike remained speechless, his hands reaching out to take her hand but she pulled it away, glaring at him with such deep pain that he flinched and took a step back. As he did so her eyes fell on the collapsed forms of Cordy and Xander and she rushed over to see the extent of the damage.
Xander was insulting up a storm, Cordelia tossing very weakened barbs back as she struggled to stay awake.
“We should get her to the hospital, Xan. Just to make sure.”
“I’m fine, really,” she protested as she stumbled to her feet, her hand hesitantly touching the still fresh wound on her neck.
Tears were gathered in her eyes as she looked at Buffy and then Spike. “That bastard bit me,” she informed them, the obviousness of the observation making the speaker giggle in delayed shock. Her eyes glazed for a moment then began to clear, the tears pushed away for a moment when she didn’t have such a big audience.
In the face of his fear, Xander just continued with what he knew. He bit sarcastically at the object of his rising lust and hoped she was well enough to keep receiving them. Strong enough to keep insulting him back.
“That’ll teach ya for having the hots for a vampire, Cord. They’ll go for ya throat every time.”
“And when I get enough blood back in my veins, I'll make sure I hit you with double the putdowns, Xander Harris." She slumped against his body and he caressed her shoulder, hugging her in a way that made her sigh.
Buffy flinched, closing in on herself even though her mind objected the point. Spike had never gone for her throat—despite her numerous offers—even though his betrayal right now felt like the most savage bite.
For his part, the blond vampire seemed to collapse into himself, knowledge in this situation a double-edged sword. He couldn’t tell, couldn’t make her see. Was left with nothing but the hope that sense would reason with her as she considered his explanation.
“He’s a good vamp when he’s souled, Pet. I thought he deserved a chance to make good.” It stuck in his throat to defend the one he hated above all else, but the truth of it was that Angel fought for the side of good, had the Powers That Be in his ever-widening corner and would probably bring him back anyway.
“And in the meantime, my friends are at risk.” She raised her eyes as the full extent of this fight—or lack thereof—finally hit her. “You didn’t even hit her, did you?”
His surprised step back was her answer and something dug a trench inside and allowed her heart to hide.
She took a step towards him, hating that he was answering her with silence and hating more the answers.
“She was calling you from inside and you wanted to go, didn’t you? What did she do out here? Try and convince you to go back? Are you going back, Spike?” Her voice cracked on the last question, not knowing anymore what was truth and what was fear but feeling the scalding tears as they made tracks down her face. Knew the agony of a breaking heart as he continued to lack answers for her.
“Tell me,” she demanded while barely a step away from him now.
Spike saw the change and fear held him captive. He was almost too scared to watch the play of emotions on her face, too terrified that he’d done it after all. Cocked up his second chance all because he didn’t let her waste Mr. Hair Gel himself. The irony of it caused him to smile as he shook his head. And that action finally seemed to release his tongue.
“Buffy, we need to give him back his soul. I wasn’t tempted to go back to Dru. Was just tellin’ her to back off and take the poof out of here. I can’t kill her, if that’s what you mean. She’s my sire…” He was interrupted by three derisive snorts.
He clenched his jaw, wishing he could do the big reveal and tell them all the good that Peaches does in LA, telling them that the cheerleader ends up bloody useful for a change by going off with him. And then the impact of the night hit him and he fell to his knees. He’d been so hell-bent on changing everything that he had almost sacrificed one of Buffy’s own.
Cordelia could have died tonight. Could have drained dry or been turned while he’d buried himself in the bliss of loving Buffy.
“Oh God, I’m a bad man,” he moaned into his hands, shuddering with a more human reaction. “I’m sorry, Buffy. You’re right, we should have dusted him.” He raised his eyes and she could see the pain, feel the sorrow that was as genuine as the tear that he tried to hide.
Her trench refilled and her heart was back where it should be—loving the vamp in front of her that shone with his humanity.
“It’s okay. You were right. We should give him a chance with his soul. But if I find him snacking on someone else, I have to do it.” She fell to her knees in front of him, pulling him unresisting into her arms and rubbed his back as he grasped hold of her tightly.
“I love you,” he told her shoulder and she smiled. Knowing with all that she was that it was true. Knowing that whatever reaction he’d shown here tonight, that feeling for her hadn’t faltered, had probably even guided him in preventing her from destroying a once strong warrior of light.
“I love you, too,” she answered into the hard slick of his white curls, needing for there to be no confusion, even if his response to his sire still rocked her confidence. “We’ll get Ms. Calendar to hurry with the spell. But we’ll have to do something about Dru. I can’t leave her to go around killing people.”
He nodded into her chest, and it buoyed Buffy no end for him to give even that discreet agreement. He accepted it, and hopefully could live with it. Buffy couldn’t bear the thought of him returning to the evil skank. Her eyes glittered dark and dangerous, her mind already plotting the various ways she could make the deadly vampiress pay for trying to control Spike. He was hers, and would stay hers. She couldn’t let him go if her life depended on it.
That bitch was so going down.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Major major thank you's to all of you who take the time to read my massively long chapters and especially to those who bother to review. Reading your comments makes my day and helsp me in my current slump to realise it is all worth while. Thanks as usual to Holly and Schez for suggestions and betaing.