Buffy maintained the illusion that she was pain free throughout lunch, when Drusilla and Angel camped out in the library to help research, and throughout the rest of the school day. Or, at least, she thought she had. Once the headache finally faded, she’d breathed a sigh of relief, the stress of pretending she was feeling fine just adding to her torment.
She dozed in the car on the way home, waking only when her door opened and she felt William gingerly unfastening her seatbelt, trying not to wake her.
“I’m up,” she said, straightening up and blinking the blurriness from her eyes. “I’m good.”
“Alright,” William moved back from the door and followed her into the house, poised to leap to her defense at the slightest threat, or more likely, just to catch her if she fell. “Water? Something to eat?”
“Nope, I’m fine, going to get ready for patrol,” Buffy started to head upstairs, when William’s voice stopped her.
“You aren’t patrolling.”
“I’m not?”
“You may think you were successful in lying to me, Buffy, but I could tell you were in pain until about an hour ago. I’m right, yeah?” His face was stone, obviously not only hurt, but mad to the point of fury.
Buffy contemplated lying to him again, but realized it was a futile endeavor. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t want you to worry!” She insisted sincerely.
“I’m going to worry no matter what. Don’t lie to me again.” His blue eyes were hard as steel, unblinking, challenging her to argue with him.
“I won’t,” she sighed. “I promise I won’t.”
“Good.”
“But really, I’m fine now. I should patrol. And if you go with me, even if something happened, which it won’t, you’d be there. With me.” Her logic seemed to sway him a bit, and Buffy went back down to the bottom step so she was standing eye to eye with him. “Plus, it’ll be fun. Come on, don’t keep me locked up here.” She batted her eyes flirtily, and pouted.
Her antics swayed him from anger even more. “Look at that lip,” he sighed, fixating on it. “Gonna get it.”
William stepped forward until his body was pressed up against Buffy’s, his burgeoning confidence around her heightening Buffy’s arousal. He leaned forward and kissed her shortly, sweetly, but as he moved to back away, she deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him to her.
When they parted, she giggled, still pouting, “Knew I could convince you.”
“Three conditions,” he said sternly, shaking off the cloud of lust around him. “One, you take a nap now. Two, you eat a healthy dinner with some greens and protein. Three, you put that lethal weapon away.”
“Weapon?”
“That damn lip,” he teased, eyes twinkling.
“Lip away,” she grinned, then kissed him softly. “Want to nap with me?”
“I have the distinct feeling if I come upstairs with you, you’re going to try to entice me into not napping. Saucy wench. And don’t pout. I’ll get started on dinner.”
“Fine,” Buffy sighed. She turned to start up the stairs, but stopped short as she came face to face with a picture on the wall of herself and her mom. It was an identical picture to one they’d taken in that other reality, and so she’d passed it dozens of times within the last few days without registering it. She sucked in a breath, mind instantly wiped of the happiness from moments earlier, as she stared at the smiling faces of mother and daughter.
“Pet? You alright?” William stepped up the steps to join her, and saw the image she was fixated on.
“Yeah, I just…” She shook her head, laughing sadly. “I miss her.”
William rested his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them gently, sharing in her sadness. “She was a wonderful woman.”
“Is. Is a wonderful woman,” Buffy said firmly. “She’s alive. I mean, it’s so weird. We have that same picture, at home, it’s on my mom’s nightstand. It’s just…she’s there, and I’m here.” She stared for a minute longer, then turned to smile sadly at William. “Anyway. Naptime.”
“Sleep tight,” he watched her ascend the stairs and disappear around the corner, then stood for a few more minutes, thinking, until his stomach grumbled slightly and he was driven towards the kitchen.
Once there, he began to mechanically go through the process of making dinner, while his mind occupied itself with uninvited images of Buffy. In her bed.
“Turn it off, you stupid prat,” William mumbled to himself as he pulled out a head of lettuce. “Keep it in your trousers.” He started tearing at the lettuce almost violently, as for what seemed like the hundredth time, he tried to talk himself out of falling in love with his teenage Slayer.
In his youth, in the years he’d called himself Spike, he’d thrown caution to the wind and ignored most, if not all, of society’s dictates about what was proper and, well, legal, really, choosing instead to follow his heart and his libido. He would have had no qualms about dating a younger woman, and no hesitation about bedding a virgin. And despite his knowledge of the events in Buffy’s other life, in this world, that’s what she was, here and now.
But as William, he followed the rules and went by the book, up until the day when Buffy had bounced down the stairs, smiled at him, and he’d realized he was completely attracted to her. As it became clearer how he felt about her, and as she seemingly started to return his feelings, each day became a struggle, a battle between the person he was and the person he used to be, over what to do about the girl occupying his every thought.
He wanted her, needed her, that much was certain, but he knew they could never have what he wanted them to have. It was no longer about her age, or her status as the Slayer. It was the fact that, deep in his gut, he knew she wouldn’t stay with him, here in this world, no matter how much he wanted her to. Her sadness over her mother was just the final indicator of where her heart truly lay.
As he finished the casserole and shoved it in the oven, the fierceness with which he clung to his morals began to weaken and fade. With that realization that she wouldn’t stay with him, he could hardly convince himself any longer that it was better for her if he stayed away, and the past few days had shown him what he could have with her. What they could have. And they would only have so much time before she ultimately left him, and to deprive himself of what he wanted would be to condemn himself to years of regret.
The Spike side of him finally won out, and as he climbed the stairs to wake up his Slayer, he felt more relaxed than he had in months.
Buffy awoke with a contented smile on her face, and stretched out her muscles while slowly opening her eyes.
“You’re practically purring,” William noted as she moved to sit up and caught sight of him hovering in her doorway.
“Were you watching me sleep? That’s mildly creepy.”
“Only mildly?”
“Yep.”
“I just came to check on you, dinner’s ready,” he moved halfway to her bed, then paused, glancing around her room, a sudden onslaught of nearly crippling apprehension taking over him.
Buffy sensed his awkwardness and beckoned him towards her with a smile and one hand reaching towards him. He felt pulled to her, as if by some unseen force, something stronger than him, or her. But, perhaps, not stronger than what they made together.
William sat down next to her on the bed, one hand gravitating immediately to her face, the other moving to slide behind her back and pull her closer towards him. As every kiss between them was, this one was different, more comfortable, like coming home, like they’d had years of practice.
“Spike....” she sighed happily as they separated just a millimeter, a shiver creeping up her spine. William could feel her warm, sweet breath brushing against his moist lips, and that slight sensation sent a new rush of blood directly to his already swelling cock, which now became uncomfortably hard in his jeans.
“Dinner’s going to burn,” he murmured.
“Let it.”
“Can we…can we talk?” He said awkwardly, needing to share his thoughts before succumbing to his desire to kiss her senseless.
“Um, sure?” She said tentatively, the worst possibilities springing to mind. Like a final rejection of her, or some horrible piece of news about the demon, or something worse.
William stood up and took a deep breath, and with the devil on his shoulder pushing him forward, he said, “We shouldn’t do this. Us. But I don’t think I can stop.”
“You can’t?”
“I don’t want to,” he corrected himself, his hands slightly shaking as he considered the enormity of what he was about to do. “Kitten…whatever this is, I’ve been fighting it day after day for months. And I’m tired of it. I’m done.”
“Done? Like…bye bye Buffy, done?” Her voice wavered.
“No!” Was the forceful reply, almost shouted as he knelt down lightning quick and grasped her hands. “Done with resisting it. Done with resisting you.”
“Oh…” She frowned a bit, as if turning his words over in her brain to look for some hidden meaning.
“That didn’t come out right. I’m…bloody hell. Alright, Buffy, I want you. More than I’m really ready to deal with. But, I will, deal. Oh, bollocks, now I sound like you---”
Buffy cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips, barely able to contain her joy at the meaning he was having so much trouble conveying. “So…what? Need a little clarification, Spike. What do you want?”
He smiled weakly. “I want you, Buffy. I don’t know how this is going to work, or even if it will, but for now, I’ll never let you down, kitten, I’ll---“
Done with hearing his adorable ramblings, Buffy leaned down and cut him off with a kiss.
William, satisfied with his attempts to explain himself, and desperate for more from the girl in his arms, stood quickly and pushed her back on the bed, lying on top of her without breaking the connection of their lips.
Devoid of any more reservations, William’s mind could only focus on the extraordinary way Buffy seemed to sense exactly what he needed, as her hands gently cupped his face and she poured so much affection into one kiss that he felt himself start to shiver.
He moved his tongue around her mouth, exploring every inch of it, claiming it as his own. And she was right there with him, one leg rising up to hook over his, arching into him, marking him with her roaming fingers.
William slid his hands under her back to shift her higher up on the bed, and rolled over so she was straddling him, her shorts riding up to reveal more of her smooth, tanned thighs. He observed her intently, enjoying her shyness a bit as she blushed under his scrutiny.
“Dinner’s going to burn,” she parroted his earlier words back to him.
“Let it,” he grinned, reaching up to cup her face, and pulling her down towards him.
As their lips met, and her hips slid forward to situate directly over the hard bulge in his pants, the doorbell chimed in the distance.
“Are we expecting someone?” Buffy asked in disappointment, sitting up quickly.
“No,” William rose up on his elbows, her distress mirrored in his face. “Better get that, love.”
“Fine,” she sighed, moving to dismount, but finding herself stopped by one firm hand pulling her back to finish that kiss.
The doorbell chimed again.
“Impatient tossers,” William growled. Buffy giggled and darted out of the room, and he flung himself back on the bed, perfectly content with the deterioration of his morals.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I am on my hands and knees, pleading for forgiveness for the ridiculously long wait for this chapter! The muse isn't exactly being kind to this story, so...you know...let me know what you think of the chapter, it will help! Oh, and I probably should have had this warning ages ago, but if you've been reading all along, you probably already know this: This story contains a sexual relationship between an adult William and an underage Buffy. Just throwing that out there, in case you weren't aware already. ;) Chapter title from the Verve Pipe.
Chapter End Notes:
Are you content with the deterioration of his morals as well? :) Let me know what you think, feed the muse.