A warm body curled into his side, stomach full of heavy pasta, and an old movie musical. William couldn’t imagine a better evening, and he knew he was grinning like an idiot.
Buffy’s head was resting on his shoulder, and he could feel her fingers absentmindedly playing with the drawstring on his gym shorts. One of his arms was wrapped around her narrow shoulders, bare but for the two tiny straps of her tank top, while the other was occupied with a glass of wine, which had started a spat between the two before dinner.
“It’s my birthday, I’m not driving or anything, I think I’m entitled to a glass of wine!” She’d insisted, hands on her hips and glaring at him from across the island in the kitchen.
“Your birthday is technically tomorrow, and regardless, you’re still underage in this country,” William had sputtered, arguing internally with himself about whether it really mattered, his Spike side insisting that no one would ever find out anyway.
“Come on, how old were you when you started drinking? Like, twelve? It’s not fair!”
“None of your business. And I refuse to contribute to the delinquency of a minor!”
“Like you contributed to the delinquency of a minor when you gave me a hickey?” Buffy had winked. He’d growled and run to grab her, she struggled weakly for a minute, then they were making out, up against the counter, his over excited mouth giving her another hickey on her breast as she’d squealed her futile protests.
He was still hard.
And ultimately, he’d given her a few sips of the wine. She hadn’t liked it, so the whole argument had been pointless.
But William couldn’t deny that something in him turned hot and excited when they fought. Her eyes flashed with a tantalizing fire when she was upset with him, she twisted her lips into that infernal pout, and he found himself teasing her just to spark that attitude. The way he knew she could take him down if it ever came to that always fluttered in the back of his mind, even when the disagreement was about something mundane, and he couldn’t deny that it turned him on.
After dinner, he’d noticed a slight wrinkling between her eyebrows, a sure sign she was in pain. After she reluctantly admitted to having a headache, he’d wrapped her in blankets and made her tea, prompting another short argument over her ability to take care of herself.
“Buffy, I’m quite sure you could render me completely useless in ten minutes with one arm tied behind your back. I have no doubt you can take care of yourself,” William had sighed exasperatedly.
She’d wrinkled her nose in thought, and said, “We should spar, because I think I can do it in five.”
And she’d acquiesced, allowed him to pamper her, coddle her, and give her a back massage. Then they’d settled in for the film, and William had felt more content than he had in years.
“Will? The movie’s over.” Her voice was sleepy as she nuzzled closer to him, letting out a soft sigh of contentment when his arm tightened around her. The Will thing had started immediately after their discussion in the kitchen, and neither had mentioned the change in what she called him. While he loved the sweet way she said the new nickname, he found himself missing the reminder of his youth, the slight thrill he got when she called him Spike.
“How’s the pain?”
“Pain-free, my head is clear as a bell.”
“Good. Ready for bed?” He reached out and set down his glass, turning back to find her lips meeting his in a soft kiss.
“I don’t want to go to sleep,” Buffy whispered against his lips, shifting her body forward so she was sitting across his lap.
“You don’t? It’s getting pretty late---” He teased, hardly getting out the words before she was kissing him harder, clearly a little annoyed, and he chuckled into her mouth as he lifted her easily and began to carry her towards the stairs.
“Where are we going?” She asked.
“Bed.”
“Not to sleep?”
He was silent as they made their way up the stairs, and deposited her gracefully on her bed. Kneeling at her side, grasping her hands, William intently studied her face until she was blushing.
“Could make a girl feel nervous, looking at her like that,” Buffy giggled, averting her eyes from the intense stare being directed at her.
“No, look at me,” he soothed, hooking a finger under her chin and dragging it back in his direction. He spoke quickly, so he couldn’t change his mind about his idea for the night. “I think we should get some sleep tonight, in our own beds.”
“But---“
“Because you need all your energy for tomorrow, and I need some time.”
“But—“
“Because…Buffy, I can’t tell you how much I want to throw you onto that bed and spend the night with you. Is that what you want? To be in my arms, to let me make love to you?”
Her brain malfunctioned for a moment, but she managed to make a hoarse noise of agreement.
“Okay, good. But you had your headache earlier, and I…let’s just rest, yeah? And we’ll celebrate your birthday in style tomorrow. How’s that?”
“That’s good,” she agreed reluctantly, heart pounding now that the decision had been made in such a simple way. She was expecting discussions, arguments, thought William would tell her she was too young and they should wait. But he didn’t.
The goodnight kiss he gave her was unexpectedly intense, filled with a kind of promise that made Buffy’s entire body shiver. That kiss remained on her mind as she got ready for bed and as she fell asleep.
The dream started simply. She was patrolling, the comforting feel of a stake in her hand, when a tap on her shoulder made her jump. She turned around, and didn’t have the time to register who had touched her when she was being kissed, a soul-stirring kiss that made her weak in the knees, made her heart flutter. But suddenly a sharp prick on her lip made her pull away with a whimper, and her eyes flew open.
Spike cocked his head at her curiously, one fang dripping with her blood. “Something wrong, pet?”
“You’re…you’re not…” Buffy was fully aware that she was dreaming, but unable to control her actions or words. It was like she was trapped in her own body, limbs and lips without her consent as she moved to wrap her arms tightly around the vampire, sinking into his embrace as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She felt powerless, a feeling that never failed to infuriate her. “You’re not William. I thought you were William.”
“Sure I am,” Dream Spike shrugged, licking a drop off his lips and purring happily. “We’re the same, him and me, you and me.”
“I’m not like you,” said Buffy, her head ignoring her inner protests and nuzzling against his chest, covered in a worn black t-shirt. “I don’t even really know you.”
“Sure you do,” he laughed, hands reaching around to stroke her suddenly naked back. His touch was delicate, almost familiar. “It’s okay, Slayer. You’re safe with me.”
“I doubt that.”
“You don’t trust me?” His voice was gentler, his accent more comforting. “I’ll always do what’s best for you.”
“William!” Buffy cried out in relief when she looked up to see the hair darker, the face human.
“It’s okay, kitten. I won’t leave.”
And he kissed her again, that same kiss, that kiss that would stay with her until she died. Underneath that feeling of promise, underneath the fact that it made her quake with desire for him, was an almost painful ache, the unquestionable feeling of completion threatened as her subconscious reminded her of what she stood to lose if she left.
She started to panic, still kissing him, her heart pounding from fear instead of lust. Then he was torn away from her by a dark, shadowy figure, and she was alone. Her pleas for him to come back went unanswered.
Buffy suddenly awoke to a different kind of kiss, soft and gentle on her forehead.
“Wake up, Buffy.” William’s voice soothed her instantly, and her eyes opened to see him sitting next to her on her bed, face illuminated by the moonlight. “You yelled my name. Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she smiled, shaking off her terror and reaching up to cup his cheek. “Just a weird dream. What time is it?”
“Little after three. Do you want some water?” He asked, moving to stand, but he found himself pulled down to the bed by his Slayer’s extraordinary strength, and he gasped as she kissed him deeply. She took total control of the kiss, teasing his tongue with hers and making him strain for more of her taste. Once she let him go, he managed to say through a haze of lust, “Well, that was unexpected.”
Immediately after the words were out she pulled him towards her again, a desperate sigh audible just before she kissed him harder than before, her hands clutching his bare shoulders almost to the point of pain. His body responded instantly to her passion, and he slipped his hands underneath her back to cradle her to his chest.
“Please, Will,” she whispered once she let him go again. “I don’t want to wait.”
William studied her face for a moment, and finding it calm, he nodded his head. “You’re sure?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been,” she replied softly, hand still on his cheek and caressing the slight stubble there, touching him to reaffirm his presence, his solidity.
He nodded again, mind crystal clear underneath the fog of interrupted sleep. When he’d heard her call his name, a fierce panic had gripped him, and he’d given himself a strong head rush with how fast he’d leapt from bed to run to her side. But she seemed…serene once he woke her up, like whatever had caused her to cry out his name like that was inconsequential once he was beside her.
And as he’d lain in bed earlier, taking the time he’d given himself to think about what he was doing, what he was risking, he’d realized there was nothing on Earth or in Hell that could keep him away from her any longer.
It had been years since he’d truly dated, and even then his relationships had been nothing to write home about. A few flings when he was young, a couple of years with Cecily when he’d joined the council, and one disastrous date with a math teacher at the high school were the highlights of his love life, and he’d told himself if he ever found the love, the passion he’d always imagined, he’d give himself over to it fully, whole-heartedly.
And he knew now that’s what Buffy was to him, the dream he’d held dear but tried not to hope for, the kind of woman he’d always thought he’d fall for. A woman, not a girl, because though her innocence was clear, no one could endure the pain she had over her short life and truly still be a child.
“You went away,” she frowned when he’d been staring at her silently for too long.
The words were on the tip of his tongue, confessing his feelings seemed like the most natural thing to do. But he couldn’t, knowing what she was facing the next day, knowing that he would just be making it harder for her to decide if she wanted to leave him.
“Sorry, kitten,” William smiled, dipping his head to gently kiss her forehead. “I’m here now. And I won’t leave.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I thought this would take me a few more days, but no, my temperamental brain cooperated! Hope you all enjoy, please let me know what you think!
Chapter End Notes:
I know. I'm a tease. But don't you worry, the next chapter will give you what you want! Chapter title from a song by Plumb.