1. Part One by xionin
2. Part Two by xionin
3. Part Three by xionin
=Carefully to Tread=
The music swells and carries them towards each other, the promise of what's to come exhilarating and terrifying them simultaneously.
I touch the fire and it freezes me.
I died…
I look into it and it's black.
…so many years ago…
This isn't real, but I just wanna feel.
"What?"
Spike pauses, his face hovering inches from his destiny. The flash of pain shows so briefly in his features that Buffy doesn't have time to interpret it. She tilts her head and, for scant seconds, he feels the pull of the inevitable before he disengages.
He steps back.
"No. Buffy…no." His voice is heavy with emotion. The pain of that one word, 'no,' weighing on him like an anchor. Buffy, her eyes half-closed with expectance, freezes mid-motion. She looks up at him and he retreats even further. He throws up his shield against what he knows will be her attack.
"No."
She blinks once…twice, confusion knitting her soft brow. Then the tears begin to collect in her unfathomably dark eyes. Hazel was never a color associated with the night until she mastered it and made it her own. Spike's unnecessary breath catches as her arsenal of beauty threatens him. The dim streetlight rises above the call of duty to cast her in the most flattering light. She looks like an angel to him; dark and troubled and falling; looking to him to break that fall. Break it or perhaps hasten it.
"But I thought…"
"That I wanted this? Wanted you?" The strength in his voice is betrayed by the tremble in his limbs.
"Yes." She doesn't say it, she breathes the word. It's a prayer, a plea for help; for penance. She takes a step towards him and the sounds of stringed instruments fill the air with a melody so sweet, so melancholic that it makes him shiver. He doesn't want this. Not like this.
You said that I was your…everything.
"You are, Buffy-"
You said, since you'd met me, nothing's been the same.
"Buffy, please. Don't. Not like this."
I stand before you an empty shell, trapped in a personal Hell and I ask you to give me what I need to survive.
He squeezes his eyes shut just as hers open wide to release a torrent of tears. The muscles in his jaw clenching as his nostrils flare.
Buffy wants so badly to forget. Or to remember. Just to feel…something. She reaches for him in a moment of desperation and, only sensing her movement, he counters it, staying just beyond her reach. She stops, on the brink of collapse at the rejection from the one…person…she thought understood.
I need you…to make me feel alive.
He opens his eyes and a wall of emotion breaks over him. He opens his mouth to speak and nothing comes out. Not a sound. His mouth snaps shut and he begins to slowly back away, shaking his head. There will be no 76 trombones, not for them.
His pace quickens as he stumbles backwards, eyes locked in hers; registering her fear. Her confusion. He turns quickly and breaks into a run, disappearing into the night and leaving her there alone and numb. Just like him.
"Buffy?" Dawn's small voice calls Buffy out of her staring match with the empty space that Spike had occupied only moments ago. She turns, lethargically, to her sister and can't think of a thing to say to her.
'Are you alright?' 'Where is everyone?' 'Let's go home.'
All perfectly legitimate things to say, but all she can muster is "Hey." Barely. Her voice is caught in another conversation.
"You…you alright?" Dawn, sensing more than the two feet of distance between them, approaches her cautiously. "I, Buffy…I didn't know…what they had done. What they had planned. I didn't know." Buffy looks down, unable to meet Dawn's eyes. She realizes that this is the first of many conversations she will be forced to have now that Xander's demon has toppled her fragile house of cards; eliciting the truth in the most painful way possible.
Her world hasn't just fallen apart. It has imploded.
Her friends, the ones she'd died to protect, had robbed her of her reward. And even the sacrifice of saving them from that knowledge has been negated in one rock-opera moment.
"I'm…fine. Dawn, we should...let's-" Her thoughts are fragmented. This isn't the right scene. It's as if the script is a last-minute rewrite. Spike. She should talk to him. And say what, exactly? She'd just asked him to give her something to sing about; to love her without the possibility of having it returned. And she wants to, what…to apologize?
She can't love him. She can't love anybody. And no one should be able to love her, all torn and broken and empty. But she knows that he cares and to think of what she'd just said…sang…to him. He doesn't deserve that.
Dawn's eyes, so innocent even with all that they've seen, dance around her face nervously. She doesn't know how to react to Buffy these days. And now…
"You wanna go home?" She half-smiles.
"Yeah." Buffy awkwardly places her arm around Dawn, feeding on her warmth and vitality. She suddenly feels like a vampire herself. "Let's go home." They walk slowly, arms around each other's waists.
"Where's Spike?" Her quiet question startles Buffy. She wonders if her thoughts have betrayed her. She shrugs.
"Dunno. Home, I guess." That comes out much more nonchalantly than she thought she was capable of.
"We should thank him."
"For what?"
"For saving you. All of us."
"Huh?" Buffy stops and looks at Dawn.
"Buffy…that song…you were dancing. Out of control, I saw it. We all did. And then he stopped you. He was the only one that could." Dawn's voice begins to tremble and tears form in her eyes. She'd come close to losing her sister a second time. That's two times too many.
"I…" Buffy frowns. Dawn is right, Spike had saved her life. Again. And probably everyone else's as well. Again. She swallows hard and looks at Dawn. "Let's go find him." Dawn's face moves from confusion to joy in one fluid motion of flawless skin.
"OK." She smiles and takes Buffy's hand. They speed walk to the crypt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike had thrown his duster on the floor when he'd gotten home, heading for a half-empty bottle of Glen Livet he'd nicked from the store. Even with the promise of the smooth, amber liquid he knows that he is three bottles short of really being able to lessen the dull ache in the center of his chest. This liter or so of relief would do little to soothe the lump in his throat, much less anything else. But he's out of options.
He knows what she wanted. He just can't fathom it; the idea of being in her arms…touching her skin.
He shudders when he thinks of what he walked away from. A dream. But they've been…close. Not friends, never that, but close. They have an understanding. He's been her sounding board, in addition to being her punching bag, and he's found a sort of peace in that role.
Perhaps one day it will turn into…no. Of course it won't. It will never be what he wants it to be. She will never allow herself…never lower herself to…
Spike grips the neck of the bottle, near to the point of shattering it. He grits his teeth, stretches out his neck and exhales a deep, slow breath. He pulls the cork out of the bottle and tosses back a stiff shot or three, setting it on the ratty coffee table as he falls into his favorite, and only, chair.
Better. Soon to be much better, if he can get his hands on some more. Yeah, that's what he needs, more. He picks up the bottle again.
"You're good to me, you are." He caresses the smooth glass, which feels warmer than it should. Softer. "You don't mock me or tell me I'm evil and all that rot, do you now?" The bottle answers with a sloshing sound as he spins the liquid inside; mesmerized by the mini-whirlpool. He takes another swig and clutches the bottle to his chest, cradling it like something precious.
The sob catches him off-guard. He hadn't even noticed the tears on his face. He wipes his cheek with his hand and looks at the clear wetness with something close to surprise. He closes his eyes in disgust and runs the hand through his hair. The tears are undaunted, however, and they fall unheeded. He doesn't care enough to stop them. There's no one here to hide them from anyway, and he's done denying the truth. She'll never love him.
It's not that she's ashamed to tell anyone what she feels, it's that she doesn't feel it and she is ashamed that he does. He laughs. It's a sorry sound, halfway between a sob and a chortle. His tears ignore the humor; the irony of his situation. It's through this dim fog of self-loathing that he hears the soft knocking at the door. He chooses to ignore it, but the visitor comes in anyway.
"Sp-…Spike?" Dawn's melodic voice draws him out of his stupor.
"Bit?" He cranes his head towards the door. "That you?" Dawn steps inside the crypt followed by Buffy. Spike, surprised as all hell, stands up and nearly topples the bottle off its precarious armrest perch.
"Something wrong?" He approaches them, immediately sober. "Is Sweet still here? You need me to take care of him for you?"
Buffy can't help it, she smiles. "No, we-" She looks at Dawn for back-up. "We came to thank you."
He tilts his head, easing back from his tension, and stands there perplexed. "For?"
"The…saving…of…me. Of us! Everyone. All of us." She finishes lamely. Even Dawn groans.
"Spike, what you did back there. That was good." Dawn gingerly approaches him. "Thanks for stopping Buffy from becoming toast."
Ah, so that's it. The niblet wanted to come over and big sis escorted her. Spike is okay with that, as long as they leave. Right now.
"S' nothing." He doesn't offer anything more and turns back to his bottle of comfort. Maybe they'll take the hint. He's unsure how he is able to stand in the same room with Buffy at this moment. Perhaps Dawn is the buffer, none of the emotional electricity threatening to strike at the two of them. Not right now anyway.
"Ok, well…we just wanted to do that, so…" Dawn and Buffy back away to the door. When Spike doesn't respond, not even to turn and look at them, Dawn shrugs and opens the door. Buffy lingers a moment, wanting to say something…anything…that will make what she'd said earlier go away. Instead she silently follows her sister through the door and back out into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They walk across town in silence; Dawn stealing occasional glances at her sister who is so obviously somewhere else.
"Buffy?" Buffy looks at her and realizes she's been giving her the silent treatment.
"Sorry. I'm just…it's been a hard day." She offers a wan smile.
"Yeah." Dawn answers quietly. She wants to ask so many questions. What was Heaven like? Was their mother there? Does she really hate it here and want to go back? Buffy knows that these questions are out there; she can read them in Dawn's eyes. In an attempt to answer them and assuage some of her fears, she quietly slips her hand into her sister's and gently squeezes.
Dawn smiles, her lip trembling.
Buffy stops and pulls her sister into an embrace.
"I'm sorry Dawnie," she whispers into her hair. "I…I don't mean to be so distant."
"Buffy…god…what are you talking about? What you've been through…what you're going through…god…" Dawn buries her face in Buffy's shoulder, the tears finally taking over. They stand on a corner a few blocks from their home and make peace with each other, at last, through tears and touching; long overdue hugs and whispered apologies. Finally, Dawn pulls back, wiping her eyes.
"Why didn't you tell anyone? How could you carry that all on your own?"
"I didn't want to hurt anybody." Buffy replies quietly. Dawn huffs.
"Oh please…they pulled you out of Heaven, they deserve whatever they get." Buffy is surprised by her sister's tone.
"They…they thought I was in Hell."
"Then they're stupid." Dawn retorts. "Why the heck would they think the Slayer would be sent to Hell?" Buffy shrugs. She'd been avoiding that same question. "And they didn't tell me anything…nothing. Me or Spike." Buffy looks down at the mention of his name.
"Buffy?" Their eyes meet. "You don't know what we went through, when you were gone; Spike and I. I couldn't have survived without him."
"I know." She smiles a small smile.
"And I think I helped him too. He was a mess. I…I don't think he wanted to be here anymore."
"Well…" Buffy sighs. "Sunnydale has played host to a lot of his less than shiny moments."
"No, I don't mean Sunnydale." They stare at each other for a few seconds before Dawn's meaning becomes clear to Buffy. She frowns, shaking her head.
"No, Dawn, he wouldn't have…I mean he didn't…"
"Buffy. You didn't see him. And if you don't think he would have done it, then you really don't know him. He stayed for me, probably because you asked him to. Right?"
"No. Dawn…I did ask him to protect you, but he lo…" She pauses, the word stuck on her tongue.
"He loves me? Yeah, I think he does, but…god Buffy…he loves you. He really loves you."
"I…I guess." Buffy's voice is suddenly gone. It's not possible for him to love her, but then how do you explain everything that points to the opposite?
"What happened back there, after the big show-stopping number? I saw Spike walk out and you ran after him. Did you guys fight?"
"No…we…no."
"Did you catch up with him?"
"Yes." Dawn frowns at her sister's tight-lipped responses.
"Buffy…what's going on between you two?" Buffy's eyes widen enough to tell her that she isn't off-track.
"What do you mean? Nothing's between us. There is no 'us'."
"Buffy. C'mon. This is me. I'm not stupid or blind. There is something between you. I know how he feels about you, and you seem to be…warming up to him."
"I'm not. There's no warming…o-of anything." Buffy withdraws a little from their newfound closeness, her defenses resurrecting before Dawn's eyes.
"Buffy how can you be around him, knowing how he feels, and not feel…something…too?"
"Dawn, he's Spike."
"Yeah, I know who he is, do you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She bristles.
"I mean, do you really know him? 'Cause I do. And I love him so much sometimes I think I'm going to explode. When I think of my family, who my family really is? I think of you and mom…and then I think of Spike. He's family to me, Buffy. He loves us both and you…you he worships. And I don't understand how you could…how you could be around him and not feel it."
"Feel what?" Buffy's discomfort level with this conversation is through the roof, but she is too interested in what Dawn is saying to back down. Of course she knows Spike. She knows all about his twisted allegiances, his insane devotion to whatever he deems worthy. She knows all about his fantasies, having been the center of them for some time now. She knows what incredible evil he's capable of. She knows him. Doesn't she?
"Feel what." Dawn mumbles to herself. Sometimes Buffy is just so thick she wants to slap her. "Feel it. His love for you. God! I frickin' feel it. We all do, although some of us are in some wicked denial. Xan-der." Buffy snorts, she can't help it. "It's the real deal, Buffy."
"Dawn, Spike is a soulless...evil...demon-y vampire with a chip that keeps him from harming humans. He's..he's incapable of real love. Now, I admit, he's loyal and protective…but that doesn't make him safe. He's dangerous. Very dangerous and I don't like the idea of you feeling all connected to him. You spend too much time with him. And it's not good. It' s not…not safe. It's not right. It's-"
"Geez, Buffy. You have issues."
"I have issues?"
"Are you talking about me or you? You think you spend too much time with him?" Buffy's mouth hangs open, as she is struck dumbfounded.
"I…I dunno. Do I?"
"Um, I'm going to go with no. I think you need to spend lots more time with him. You need to get to know him…I mean really get to know him, 'cause I don't think you do. Not really."
"Oh and what do you propose I do, Dawn, huh? Hang out with him and go catch a flick? Go for lattes at Starbucks? Date him?" Dawn smiles at her sister's choice of words. "What?"
"I never said anything about dating him, Buffy; I just said you should get to know him. Let him in a little."
"I do. I did."
"When?"
"He…he knew."
"He knew what?"
"Where I was. Where I'd been." The look on Dawn's face makes her instantly regret what she's just admitted.
"You…you told him? About being in…"
"Yeah," she whispers. Dawn turns away abruptly and starts down the street. Buffy follows a few paces behind. Dawn stops and turns back, fresh tears showing.
"You told him…but not me?"
"Dawnie…I…like I said, I didn't want to hurt anyone. I didn't want you guys to feel guilty…for bringing me back."
"But I didn't have anything to do with that, Buffy!"
"I know, Dawn, I know and I'm sorry. I just…I couldn't do that to you. Make any of you feel guilty."
"But you told Spike. Why him?"
"I…he was…convenient, I guess." Dawn takes two angry steps towards her sister.
"What?" her face distorts with her disbelief.
"Spike was there and he listened and I knew he wouldn't tell anyone if I asked. I just needed to get it off my chest and he was there, so…"
"Oh…my god…Buffy. I was wrong, I was so wrong, you don't care for him. Not at all!"
"I…what do you mean?" Buffy closes the distance between them.
"If you were protecting us by not saying anything, you certainly didn't have that problem when you told Spike."
"Why should I? It's Spike." Dawn's fists clench.
"God…Buffy! What is wrong with you? Yes, it's Spike! Spike who worships you. Spike who'd die...again…for you. Spike who almost died for me. Spike who stayed here all summer and fought next to people that hate him. Spike that looked after me. Spike that broke down when you left, for weeks, and wouldn't feed. Spike that just saved your life a few minutes ago. Spike. Y'know, Spike? That guy that's in love with you?"
"He's not a guy, Dawn he's a…a…"
"A what, Buffy. What are you going to say? A monster? He's not. And he hasn't been for a long, long time. And if you took your head out of your ass long enough, you'd see that. And you'd also see that you do have feelings for him. You're just too chicken to admit it!" Buffy turns her head away.
"Dawn, I…the others…they'd…they wouldn't understand. I don't even understand." Dawn moves in front of her sister, making her face her.
"Understand what?"
"How I let this happen." Buffy's shoulders drop dejectedly. She stares off into space as her voice loses it fire.
"What's happened? Are you saying…do you have feelings for him?" Buffy's silence answers in volumes. "Buffy, he isn't Angel." Buffy's head snaps toward her.
"I know that, Dawn. This has nothing to do with-"
"Sure it does. You screwed up with Angel and people got hurt. You're afraid to make the same mistake again."
"Ok, who are you and where is my sister?"
"I'm serious, Buffy."
"I know you are and that's why this conversation stops right now. Spike and Angel are nothing alike."
"Glad you noticed." Dawn crosses her arms for emphasis.
"Of course I noticed. For one thing, Angel has a soul." Dawn rolls her eyes.
"You know, I keep hearing a lot about that and how it's supposed to make you better or whatever, but it didn't stop him from walking out." Buffy's jaw clenches as she bites back her initial response.
"He did what he thought…was…best. For everyone."
"Spike would never leave, Buffy. He stayed even when you were gone. Angel didn't even call to see how I was doing." Buffy takes a few moments to think about that. She sighs, reaching up and running her hand down the length of Dawn's hair.
"I love you."
"Love you too, but don't change the subject." They both smile.
"Take this." Buffy hands Dawn a stake.
"Why?" Dawn looks nervously at her sister, unsure of her intentions.
"I want you to go on home. Straight home. It's pretty quiet tonight, while the rest of Sweet's spell or whatever wears off, but take this just in case."
"You're not coming with me?"
"No. I have…Spike and I have some…things…to talk about." She swallows hard.
"O-ok." Dawn takes the stake and moves away slowly. "We'll talk when you get home?" She's suddenly nervous for her friend.
"Sure." Buffy says, offering a smile of reassurance. Dawn breathes a sigh of relief. Perhaps Spike is safe for tonight. "I won't be long." With that she turns and speeds away. Dawn walks the remaining blocks to the house.
=Carefully to Tread= =Part 2=
Buffy doesn't bother knocking this time she just enters quietly. She finds him sitting in the same spot, still clutching the nearly empty bottle.
"Spike, we need to talk." She approaches him cautiously.
"Not sure we do, luv." He says, his voice a touch more gravelly than usual. "Think we've said everything, yeah?"
"No, Spike, we haven't said nearly enough." She squares off with him and he doesn't respond, only stares.
Buffy studies him. She can see that he's been crying. And she admits to herself why. Why he said no, why he walked…or ran…away. Her eyes are open. Why hadn't she understood this before? He's said 'it' so many times she's lost count.
He's in love with her.
Buffy looks at him and notes the fear in his eyes...and the longing. She realizes for the first time that the fear bothers her more than the other. She walks towards him and crouches down at his feet; sitting a few inches from him. He straightens up, preparing for who-knows-what, but looks over her head, unable to meet her eyes at such close proximity.
"Spike." Buffy reaches a hand towards his leg, but withdraws it. "I'm…sorry." He turns to her, unsure if he heard her correctly. Is the Slayer apologizing for something?
"For what?"
"For not...believing you." She thinks she sees a smile forming on his lips, but it vanishes.
"Don't apologize for that, Slayer, because you've always believed me. You just didn't want to." The honesty in that statement stings. She can't even think of how to respond, but he doesn't give her the opportunity.
"If you want to apologize, apologize for something you've actually done. Apologize for bein' too hard on yourself. Apologize to Dawn for not letting her in. She's your sis, and she loves you more than anythin'…more than anyone."
"More than you?" She asks softly and the question startles him into silence. He swallows and then shakes his head and looks away.
"What do you want from me, Buffy?" His voice is slightly above a plea, but it effectively fills the room.
"Nothing." She matches his tone.
"Well that's bloody obvious, isn't it?" The bitterness takes both of them by surprise, him more so. He sighs. "I'm not going to…to do…what you want me to do."
"And what is it, exactly, that you…think I want you to do?" She lifts her chin. He runs his gaze along the length of her body and then meets her eyes with the most openly pained expression she's ever seen.
"You want me to help you feel…something." She doesn't respond, but he hears the rapid thump of her heart beat in his head like a war drum. "I won't. I can't."
It's these last words that confirm what she's been denying all this time. Spike is just a man. A man in love...and she's been using him a like an emotional crutch with no regard for his feelings at all.
It had been all too easy for her to pretend he didn't matter, that he was incapable of being hurt by her actions. It was almost an afterthought for her to follow him out into the street and suggest…what she had suggested.
But now.
Now she sees that there is more man in this being than monster and she can no longer deny that it has been this man that she's turned to when she's been at her lowest.
Buffy curls her legs up, moving closer to him…close enough to touch…and rests her hands on her knees, her chin on her hands, and looks up at him with eyes wide open.
"Spike." He responds to his name on her lips with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before landing in hers. He doesn't recognize this look. It isn't loathing. Not hate. Not disgust, it's…almost…it's like…
"Spike, I'm sorry; for everything. For not telling them the truth, especially Dawn. You're right, I-I should have told her- at least." She looks at the peeling paint on the wall. "I guess…I guess it was easier telling you." She looks back over to him and can see the thought forming behind his eyes.
"Yes, it was partly a total disregard for your feelings, and I was so wrong for that, but Spike…" She sighs. "It's also because I knew you wouldn't push." He rolls that around in his mind, but doesn't interrupt this rare experience: the Slayer opening up to him. To him! Buffy watches him for a moment and then summons the courage to finish what she now realizes she's started.
"I'm really attracted to you." Spike's eyes widen at the admission but then he frowns. She half-expects a snarky remark, but he stays quiet. "I think you know that. And it would have been so easy for me to get caught up in that...mutual...lust...but it wouldn't have been fair to you. You…you care for me and-"
"I love you." She stares at him for a moment before she nods.
"I know that now," she whispers. Spike laughs softly.
"Yeah? What tipped you off?" She smiles and rolls her eyes. Ok. She can do this. This isn't going to be so bad. She looks up at him again; noting the faint smirk on his lips, and is suddenly very nervous. He seems to pick up on it, because the smirk is wiped away cleanly.
"Now that I…get it…what I want to know is why."
"Why?"
"Why do you…feel…that way, I've never given you a reason to." Spike looks at her so intently that she silently gasps. He sets the forgotten bottle down and slides off the chair onto the floor, sitting across from her. He reaches for her hands and she doesn't pull away. He glances up into her eyes and she sees more of the man than ever. Shy, polite, charming. Beautiful.
"I told you why, Buffy." His tone is full of light reproach, a result of having to repeat the oft-sung phrases in an attempt to assure her of his devotion. "You're the first person in over a hundred years to treat me like a man. You're the first," he swallows audibly. "You are...the first one, the only one, to help me remember what it's like to be alive, to feel alive. You…your energy. Your sunshine. Your life, Buffy, you're my life because all I've ever known is death." He rubs the backs of her hands lightly, sending pleasurable chills throughout her body. Electric.
"You gave me back my life, Buffy." He smiles and shrugs, shaking his head as if it is the world's most commonly known fact. "How could I not love you?"
Buffy feels the tear slide down her cheek. She swallows and looks away until she feels his hand brush it lightly away and turn her face back to him.
"I'm in love with you." His voice is barely above a whisper. It is intimate and powerful. "I don't want anything from you, really I don't, nothing that you don't want to give me, but…I think you…feel…something for me too." He pauses to search her eyes. "Am I wrong Buffy? You can tell me I'm wrong, and I swear it'll be okay. I'll still be here for you and the bit. I just can't be…with you the way you asked me to be…I couldn't have that part of you and not have all of you. I would…it would...kill me."
Spike's fingers catch more of her tears. They long to linger on her skin a little longer, and Buffy finds herself wishing that they would.
"Spike."
"Buffy, believe me. I…I would never push you into something you don't want. I would never hurt you. I just…want to be allowed to love you. Please. Don't ask me not to love you. I don't think I could stop even if I wanted to."
Oh god. How…how does she merit such tenderness? She, Buffy - the epitome of battle-weary soldier; a cold and distant killing machine. How can she accept this fragile gift and not shatter it beneath her stylish-but-sensible boots? She doesn't know what to do with another person's heart. It's like holding a newborn baby. You have to be very careful and know exactly how to protect it without smothering it. She's no good at subtleties, at niceties. She's bitter and jaded and oh so tired. She wants the warmth and light and protection of that place, not the endless fighting and the apocalypse du jour. And yes, she knows it's selfish to want to skip out on her duties, but she had been done. Done. Finished. Resting and peaceful and calm, with every assurance that life and her friends and family would go on happily without her.
But now she's back, and thrust into that world that she once fought so hard to preserve and finding that it doesn't hold the promise it once held. Is she expected to fall back into line, to resume her regularly programmed life as a superhero and not have any of this affect her? Is she expected to feel all warm and fuzzy towards these people that tore her out of Heaven?
She's forgotten how to open up, how to let go and feel...something. Anger, joy, hungry, sleepy. Tired...she knows tired. Knows it intimately. But love? Sharing love?
What does she know of that? How can she let a man into her heart when she's lost the key?
And Spike…Spike is so unlike any man she's ever known. He is a fierce warrior: proud and deadly. He is a sensitive poet: wounded and open. He is her worst enemy and, quite possibly, her best friend. He knows her better than anyone. Better than she knows herself. More importantly, he loves her. Really loves her, no conditions. No demands, other than allowing him to give her this precious miracle.
She realizes that she's come to rely on him the way she never thought she could. And it isn't a fairytale; it's ugly and real. It's life with all of its warts and demons. He pulls no punches, calling her on whatever he sees her trying to get away with. He tells her in no uncertain terms when she's behaving like a spoiled brat. And although she may resent it at the time, his words always resonate within her; striking a chord inside that says 'he's right.'
Spike has become the one. That one person, in the entire world, that she can be herself around without fear of recrimination or fear of being lionized. Without being expected to behave a certain way; as if things were normal. As if she didn't feel like falling to the ground in tears at any given moment. His quiet, and sometimes not-so-quiet, strength is what has sustained her in those rare moments of reflection.
What would she do without his strength, his passion…his ridiculous humor? His love?
Buffy knows that if she continues to push him away, taking everything he offers and giving nothing in return, that it will only be a matter of time before he grows tired. Before he stops caring…stops loving her. And, oh god, she doesn't want to him stop. Does she? No! She never wants him to stop loving her.
"I don't want you to." The words spill from her lips without preamble and Spike's mouth drops open. He stares at her, a look of pure incredulity on his face.
"What?" His voice fails him.
"I…I don't want you to stop, Spike."
"What do you want then, luv?" Buffy removes her hands from his and buries her face in them. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs. Spike slides over next to her and pulls her into his arms. "S' ok, pet…let it out. I got you. Shhh." He runs his hand over her back in soothing circles, kissing her hair. He silently memorizes the feeling of having her in his arms for the first, and maybe the last, time.
"I love you Buffy." He whispers into her hair, gently rocking her in his arms. "I'll always love you. Always. Shhh. S' alright, luv."
Buffy's fingers curl around his arms as she grabs on to him, burying her face in his chest. She is overwhelmed with the sense of being protected and loved. She fears that she'll never want to leave this safe haven. And why would she ever leave? Because it isn't right? No. It feels very right. It's because she's always been afraid of what others might think or say. Everything that Dawn said is true. She has been a coward.
She pulls back from him and hears the soft, involuntary sigh he makes in protest. Buffy wipes her face with her hands and finds Spike's fingers helping her own. She looks up into his eyes and a wave of emotion bubbles up inside her. He must see it in her eyes because he has the most amazing expression of wonder on his face.
She reaches up a shaky hand and traces the scar on his eyebrow with her fingertip. Spike just watches her, afraid to move. Afraid to speak or even to breathe. Buffy flattens her hand against the harsh outline of his cheekbone; so severe and so pretty, his face is. Her eyes roam all about it, taking in every detail. They are mere inches apart, so close that Spike can inhale her exhalations.
Buffy gazes into his eyes and decides to let go; to drop the stone wall that she's been hiding behind and show him what's inside her. When she does, she sees the tears form in his blue depths. She smiles. She cradles his face in her hands and slowly pulls his head down to hers. Just before their lips meet, he turns his head.
"Buffy, I told you…I can't." He rests his head on her shoulder.
"I don't want you to, Spike. I don't want to use you." She whispers into his ear, caressing the nape of his neck with slender, shaky fingers. "I want…I want to be with you." He looks up, pulling back enough to see her entire face.
"Buffy?" His voice is tight, strained. She smiles again and tilts her head, regarding him.
"You were right, Spike. Dawn was right…I do…feel for you." The joyous look on his face takes her breath away. She feels a great weight lifting from her shoulders. "You're the only one I've been able to talk to since I came back. You're the only one that can get me to open up; the only one that can make me laugh…make me smile.
"I don't know why I didn't see it before. Even last year, you were the one that was always there for me. I sometimes wonder where we would be today if I hadn't…" She looks down. "I don't know if…if we're meant to be…together, Spike. And I'm not sure if I'm ready for the big R word, but…" She gazes into his eyes which are now flooded with tears. "I do know that I need you, William. I need you and I care for you. I do. I can't promise anything, but please…please don't turn me away. Give me a chance?"
Tears fall unchecked from both of them as Spike takes her face in his hands, wiping away the clear liquid as quickly as it appears while she returns the favor. His gaze falls on her mouth. His eyes ask hers for permission and then he leans in and softly brushes his lips against her. He smiles against her and moves back, studying her expression, smoothing away the damp strands of hair from her forehead. Her breathing is hard, her heartbeat speeding along in her chest.
The kiss, however brief, had been full of more promise than she realized any kiss could be. She wants more, but she is also afraid of the emotions it is stirring inside her. This is more than need, this is desire. The force of it disorients her; she has to close her eyes.
"Are you alright?" The timbre of his voice is suddenly smoky and deep. She can only shake her head, partly to clear it. She looks up at him again and has to clear her throat before she can speak.
"No. I'm…" She pulls back and moves to stand. Spike quickly gets to his feet, concerned with her retreat. "This is more…intense…than I thought it would be, I-" She won't look at him, but he moves in front of her, willing her to meet his eyes.
"Buffy, luv…what is it that you want? What are you so afraid of?"
"You. This. Us. I dunno." She's exasperated. He moves a lock of hair behind her ear and she looks up into his eyes.
"I'm here, pet…if you need an ear." He smiles at her tentatively. She struggles to return it, sighing deeply.
"I know." She says softly. "You always are, that's the problem." She smiles a small smile. He returns it, though he isn't sure how to take that last comment. Problem? She sees the confusion in his eyes and laughs a little. "I don't mean it the way it sounds. I just mean…" She leans against a nearby pillar.
"You. And me. It's…well, it's crazy is what it is." She laughs a little as he smiles.
"Yeah…slayer…vamp…" He reaches over and wipes an errant tear from her cheek. She instinctively closes her eyes and leans into his touch, which causes him to linger a little longer. When she opens her eyes, he is inches away from her face. His eyes, which are the most startling depth of blue she's ever seen, are staring into her very soul. Seeking answers to questions he's afraid to ask, she supposes.
How does he manage to look inside her like this, she wonders.
As if reading her thoughts, he smiles. "You're so beautiful, Buffy. Do you know that?" She closes her eyes and leans her forehead on his chest, inhaling the indefinable essence of him. He kisses the top of her head, his fingers entangling in her hair, and relishes the silky softness. She sighs, shaking her head.
"I don't know what you're seeing, Spike, but I don't feel so very beautiful. Not these days." He lifts her head, thumbs caressing her temples, and catches her gaze.
"This, what you're going through, it won't last, luv. I promise it won't. It'll get better." He shakes her gently by her shoulders, but she turns her head away. He cups her face in his hand, a veil of hair separating his palm from her skin. He turns her head back to him. "It won't last. Give it time. And I'll do anything…anything…to help you. You know I will. No matter what."
She frowns at the meaning behind his words. Does he still thinks that she means to take and not give?
It's her turn to run her fingers through his hair. His hands drop to his side as he falls under her spell. She takes the opportunity to touch him. His face. His neck. His chest through the thin cotton. When she comes back to his face, she traces his lips with her fingertips. He trembles under her touch.
She parts her lips slightly in invitation, and asks him with her eyes 'Please.' He agrees to her request and lowers his head, capturing her lips in a soft kiss.
The flame ignites again and Buffy has no desire to quell it. She opens herself more to him and feels him respond in kind. The kiss climbs in its intensity, more than either had ever dreamed it could. He slips his arms lightly around her back as hers travel up his body and around his neck. He moves one arm languidly up her back and into her hair, cradling her head with the barest of touches. His hand continues to move forward and he caresses her face as he kisses her, learning the contours of her passion.
It's Buffy that comes up for air, but both of them are panting. This is so much more than she'd anticipated. So much more than she thought she could feel. And it's all for him. She regards him with something akin to awe in her eyes and he can only watch her watching him.
"I want you." She breathes.
"I want you." He doesn't move, though. Just watches her watching him.
"I need you. Not just...not just something o-or someone, I need you."
"You have me, pet." He says, desperate for her to understand that he belongs only to her. "You know you do. Even if you only want me just for tonight."
"And what about tomorrow night?" She looks up from feathery eyelashes. He smiles.
"If you'll have me." His voice drops an octave. His breathing is shallow, the echo of her heart pounding through him.
"I want you." She buries her fingers in his now unruly locks.
"We, uh, established that, yeah." She laughs softly. He tries to quell the shaking in his muscles caused by her proximity. He closes his eyes in an attempt to calm down and she places airy kisses on his lids. She hears the soft 'oh god' in his breath.
She stands on her toes and kisses his forehead. Slipping her arms around his neck, she whispers into his hair. "Let me make love to you, William."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
=Carefully to Tread= =Part 3=
Just after the words leave her mouth, they both begin to shiver; the implication hitting them with a frightening force.
Buffy stays with her lips buried in his hair, her arms around his neck. Spike slowly brings his hands to her hips and spreads his fingers over them, grasping her firmly; afraid to let go. They stay motionless for a few moments, trying to control their breathing. Spike opens his eyes and her throat is so close to his lips that he can almost taste her pulse. He leans in and touches the hollow of her neck with the tip of his tongue. He feels her heart skip a beat.
“Spike.” She whispers, still clutching him to her. He brings his hands forward and parts the sides of her coat. He resumes his position on her hips only with one less barrier between them. Spike then wraps his arms around her and hugs her to him, splaying his hands across her back. The downy mohair of the sweater is warm with her body heat. He moans at the feel of her soft curves pressed against his own hard flesh.
“Wanted to hold you like this for so long,” he says, burying his face in her hair. After a few moments, Buffy comes down off of the balls of her feet and looks up at him. She releases herself from his embrace, never taking her eyes out of his, and steps back to remove her coat.
“You are so beautiful.” He says reverently, tilting his head slightly; his voice earnest and deep. Buffy’s eyelids flutter at the heat in his compliment. In all her previous preludes to intimacy, she’s never felt so desired; so wanted. Spike is looking at her as if he could devour her whole. It’s empowering.
The coat drops to the floor. Buffy steps forward and reaches her hand up to his face.
“So are you.” Her voice is breathy, heavy with want. Her heart flutters in her chest like a wild bird trapped in a cage. Spike places the palm of his hand over it and dips his head to catch her at eye level.
“All this desire...for me?” His hand slides up to her throat and he lightly presses three fingers against her pulse, his thumb brushing her full lower lip. Buffy parts them, allowing him a hint of the moisture and warmth there.
“Yes.” She is really trembling now. He is suddenly transfixed by her mouth and, as if he has no will of his own, he moves forward and kisses her; tentatively at first. Unwilling to press her; half-convinced that she will pull away. Instead she moves into him. Her hand slips behind his head and pulls him closer.
She opens her mouth and the first taste of her tongue sends a wave of desire through him so strong that he has to grab on to her to keep from falling to his knees. His arms engulf her and she responds in kind. They are clutching at each other, mouths fused together in a kiss that is both soft and demanding; their tongues tasting, teasing, dancing. He alternates between lapping at the moist cavern of her mouth and sucking on her full lips.
Buffy moans and Spike echoes it. They break the kiss and stare into each other, each with surprised looks on their faces. Then the surprise turns into something else. Spike takes two steps backwards and studies her for a few heartbeats before holding out his hand. She takes it without hesitation.
Their fingers entwine as he guides her to the ladder leading below. He refuses to take his wide eyes out of hers as if, should he look away, she would fade into nothingness like so many of his dreams of her. Buffy understands this need through the haze of her anxiety. She smiles at him and he visibly relaxes, backing down the ladder to the landing. When his feet touch terra firma, he reaches up and lifts her by her waist from the rungs to the floor. A small giggle escapes her. He grins.
“Your laugh is so pretty, luv. S’ like bells.” He brushes the hair out of her eyes and once again the room fills with a pregnant silence. They both stand motionless at the bottom of the ladder, staring into one another. Buffy steps back from him and pulls her sweater over her head revealing the tan skin of her long arms and her taught body hidden under a thin camisole.
Spike takes a frozen moment to drink in the sight and then walks around to look at her through the wooden dowels of the ladder. She follows him with her gaze, leaning against the wall behind her. Resting his hands on a rung in front of him, he props himself against the ladder and observes her. Buffy is held still by the weight of his gaze. She can feel his thoughts like raindrops against her skin.
“Where did you come from, luv?” His voice is lush and honeyed. Buffy feels something tighten low in her abdomen at so seductive a sound.
“The Bronze?” She laughs nervously. Spike laughs momentarily but then his eyes go wide with wonder and he smiles.
“You haven’t a clue, have you?” He says in a hushed voice. She shakes her head slowly, though she doesn’t even know what the question really is.
“You need to see yourself, Slayer.” She lowers her eyes from his at the sound of her calling. Spike takes in a sharp breath and then, closing his eyes, mentally slaps himself. “Buffy.” He walks around the ladder towards her and she looks up.
“I see me every time I look in the mirror.” Her demeanor is quietly solemn. “That’s why I don’t like to look too long. I don’t like what I see there, Spike. I don’t like the emptiness I see in my eyes.” He quickly cups her face in his hands and sighs, shaking his head. “What...what do you see in me, Spike? Why do you want...this? Want...me?” She wraps her fingers around his forearms. “Why do you love me? What is there to love?”
“I told you...I must love because I live and life in me is what you give.” He kisses her forehead and she closes her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. Spike nuzzles her other cheek with his nose while he gently wipes the wetness from her face. “I love you.” He lifts his head and looks into her eyes. “Love you.” He kisses her forehead again. “Love you.” Her nose. “Love you.” Her lips.
He continues to wipe away her tears and smooth back her hair, his eyes roaming about her face. Buffy just stares up at him and the tears refuse to stop.
“William...”
Spike lifts her into his arms and walks slowly over to the bed. Buffy buries her face in the crook of his neck and he sits with her in his lap.
“Buffy...I’m here for you, for...whatever. You-“ He swallows hard, his nerves returning. “We don’t have to...do...anything, we can just...be.”
“Just be?” She traces the soft hairs at the nape of his neck with her fingers.
“Yah.” Tremors are evident in his voice. Buffy smiles into his skin and then she leans back to look into his eyes. “Just...be...here. Together. Like this.” He brushes the back of his fingers down her cheek. Buffy sits up and straddles his thighs just above the knees. Spike leans back on his arms and smiles contemplatively.
“You...you’d be okay with that?” She asks, trying not to let her anxiety show in her voice.
“If that’s what you wanted, luv. Of course. I’ve no expectations.” He narrows his eyes, trying to suss out what’s going on in her head.
“Even after the...the kissing and the...me...wanting you to...” Spike smiles even brighter.
“Buffy...loving you isn’t about wanting you.” He rolls his eyes. “Ok, it is...but that’s not all it’s about. I love you in spite of how gorgeous you are.” It’s her turn to roll her eyes as she fights not to blush. “And you are.” Suddenly the playfulness is gone from his voice. He reaches out one hand and brushes the pads of his fingers across her lips before leaning back again.
“I envy you, Spike.” She sighs, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. He frowns.
“Uh...care to elaborate?”
“Your...your heart. I envy you your heart and how you sort of wear it on your sleeve.” He snorts.
“Not exactly the most endearing trait.”
“No, I think it is. At least with you, it’s...I...really like that about you. I always know what you’re feeling.” He smiles. “It’s in your eyes.”
“You always wonder about my feelings, pet?” He waits for her response with baited breath. She studies him for long minutes before she answers.
“Not always. Not like I should have.” She absentmindedly traces the scar on his eyebrow with her fingertip. “I’m sorry for that.” She looks him in the eye, hoping he can see the truth in her apology. He shakes his head, blowing it off.
“S’ ok. You had your reasons.”
“Maybe. But you...I still don’t understand why...how you could see past all of my stupid faults and still see me.”
“S’ easy, luv. Your soul shines in your eyes, Buffy. I look into them and I can see the strength, the wisdom...the passion for life.” Her eyes flutter closed and she swallows hard before looking up at him again. “Anyone’d be an idiot not to fall in love with you, hold you close and never let go. I wouldn’t...be able...to...let...you...go.”
These last words trickle out slowly as Spike realizes that the gloves have come off. He has laid it out for her. He wants her; all of her. He immediately wonders if he’s said too much; if she will run from him. Run screaming.
She doesn’t.
“How old are you?” The question takes him by surprise. He stumbles around the math in his head.
“I’m...122.”
“Ah.” A century between them. Buffy thinks briefly of all that he’s probably seen.
“Why’d you ask?” He places his hands lightly on her thighs, tracing slow circles with his thumb. The sensation of his touch goes straight to her womb and she feels a gush of wetness between her thighs. It startles her, this overwhelming craving for him. She swallows audibly.
“No reason, I-I-I...” she struggles to cover up her raging hormones. “I was just curious. I mean...you’ve been around a long time and you spent most of that time with Drusilla.” Spike stiffens at the mention of his sire’s name.
“Yeah?” He looks at her, waiting for the next question. He doesn’t know where this conversation is going, but it’s getting damned uncomfortable. She obviously wants to talk though, and he’s content to talk about anything at all, as long as it makes her happy.
“So...”
“So?”
“So...now...why me?” She cautiously glances up at him, having been distracted by that stubborn thread on his shirt.
He makes a strange sound in the back of his throat that makes her frown in confusion and then he bursts into laughter. He laughs so hard that his legs shake, and thus she does as well. He falls onto his back laughing while she struggles to stay upright on his legs.
After five minutes or so of him cackling and her feeling embarrassed at having to be the brunt of some joke that she didn’t get, he sits back up and smiles warmly, his eyes twinkling.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Buffy, cause that would be...well...that would be bloody ridiculous.” Buffy at least has the sense to look annoyed.
“I’m not jealous...I just wonder...if she came back...”
“Pet, she did come back, if you’ll recall correctly. Chains? Harmony wielding a crossbow? Ring any bells?” He hates to bring up that unfortunate incident when he tried to ‘prove his love’ to her by offering to stake Dru. She just smiles at the memory.
“What’s this about, luv?” He takes her face in his palm, but she avoids his gaze. “You...you worried I’ll walk away? Like...” Her eyes snap back to his and he can see the fear in them. On one hand, it thrills him to no end to think that the Slayer is worried she’ll lose him; that she cares about him enough not to want him to leave her. On the other hand he’s a little sad that she still doesn’t get that he isn’t going anywhere.
“M’ not going to leave you, Buffy.” He speaks softly, wearing said heart on his sleeve; willing her to understand. “I don’t know how to...how to prove myself to you. I-“
“You don’t have to prove yourself, Spike.”
“No, I think I do. I really think I do.” His voice grows distant as his thoughts wander off. Buffy places her palm against the hollow of his cheek to anchor him in the moment. His eyes close and he leans ever-so-slightly into her touch.
“You’re a bloody miracle,” he whispers and then opens his eyes into hers. “I love you so much; I don’t care if you never feel the same way. I couldn’t bear to be away from you. Not for one bloody day, Buffy. Not one. You want to know how old I am? I can tell you, luv, I was re-born the day I first laid eyes on you. Anything that happened before I found you is irrelevant. It’s another life. The only one I want is the one with you in it. Any way I can have you, I’ll take it, and that scares me, Buffy.” He leans up closer to her. “It scares the living daylights outta me because it’s never been this way for me before. Never, Buffy. Do you understand?”
Her mouth has gone slack and she stares at him in wonder as fresh tears rechristen the tracks on her cheeks. He dutifully wipes them away, his eyes searching her face. The expression she wears stuns him into silence.
They look at each other for long moments before their mouths drift towards each other. Spike cradles her head in his hand as he accepts her kiss and returns it in full. Buffy moans against his mouth and her lips part. Spike slips his tongue inside and the heat surprises him again. Buffy finds his tongue with hers and she caresses it, tasting the smoky cocktail that is him.
Becoming lost in the kiss, he moves his hands up her thighs and around to her bottom, straining not to pull her closer. He doesn’t need to, however, because she scoots forward into his embrace and his member springs to life beneath her. They both freeze and pull back as their eyes pop open.
Not taking her gaze out of his, she buries her fingers into his hair and moves in to kiss him again. This time the fire burns a little brighter and he kneads the firm flesh of her backside through the coarse denim. This kiss is hungry and sentient; feeding on itself. Buffy frowns from the intensity, losing herself in the arms of this man who is opening himself up to her.
Spike runs his hands all over her, occasionally brushing the sides of her breasts. He can feel the hardened points of her nipples through the cotton of his t-shirt as she presses herself against him. His mind is reeling.
Buffy.
Buffy in his arms. Buffy on his lap...on his bed. Buffy. Buffy. Buffy.
“Buffy-“ he mumbles against her lips. He slips one hand between them and releases the buttons of her jeans, sliding the zipper down as best he can. The aroma of her arousal hits him like a desert wind. A growl forms low in his chest that makes her tremble in anticipation.
Continuing his assault on her mouth, he slips two fingers past the rough fabric and finds the more feminine satin of her panties soaked with her essence. He touches her mound and she jumps. He smiles against her.
Breaking the kiss he feathers a trail down her neck and, without hesitation, she turns her head to the side to give him better access. It’s an act of complete trust and Spike’s movements come to an abrupt halt. He looks up at her and their eyes meet in a moment of utter understanding. Buffy slowly smiles.
“You don’t need to prove anything to me, Spike. I trust you.”
He cannot fight the tears that rise.
“Buffy-” he breathes, closing his eyes and she takes his face in her hands. He is so overwhelmed that he begins to sputter and fight for breath that he doesn’t need. The sobs of relief and joy shake his frame and Buffy can only wrap her arms and legs around him and rock him gently, understanding the importance of her trust in him. She smiles against his hair as he crushes her to him.
“I love you, Buffy. Love you...” he babbles and she drinks in every word.
“I know.”
He kisses her neck again as his hand slips between them once more and Buffy wriggles in response. It’s all he needs. He slips one finger inside the damp cloth and traces the perimeter of her outer lips. He feels her pulse increase with the pleasure and it drives him onward.
“Love you, Buffy.” He slips the finger inside her folds and brushes it across her clit. She jumps, her head thrown back in a moment of pure bliss. It’s been so long since anyone has touched her and the fact that it’s him makes it even more intense. Using his thumb to circle the hard little bundle of nerves, he slips his index finger into her channel, bracing her back with his other hand, still whispering nonsensical words of adoration.
“God...so hot...so wet. Only you, Buffy. Only ever want you, luv. Your passion, your power. God, luv. You smell so good. Does it feel good luv? Do I make you feel good?”
“Yesss.” She is panting heavily into the air, fighting to control the shaking of her thighs as his fingers work their magic. She is mindlessly grinding herself against his hand, unaware that every movement of her hips is stroking him through his jeans. The scratchy denim is harsh against his straining cock, but the pain borders on pleasure and he doesn’t dare move from his position.
Faster and faster he fingers her. Faster and faster her breath comes as the waves of pleasure course through her body. He feels her inner walls flutter around his hand and he sits back a bit, never breaking the pace of his movements, to watch her face. Sensing his shift in position, she opens her eyes into his. She struggles to keep them open as she feels the powerful orgasm approach.
“Sp-spike...I-“
“Do it, Buffy. Come. Come for me.” His expression is one of pure, unadulterated lust and wonder as he watches her fall over the edge. Knowing that he is the cause of the incredible noises coming out of her throat fills him with a strong sense of masculine pride, but also a feeling of awe; it’s incredible to him that she would allow him to pleasure her this way.
He increases the speed and pressure ever so slightly and it is enough to drive her over. She keens loudly, her head thrown back; fingers digging into his shoulders as she fights to stay on her perch. He slows his movements to a soft caress as she comes down. She levels her gaze at him, her breathing slowing, and the look of amazement in her eyes makes him duck his head and remove his hand from her.
“Sorry, luv...I...maybe I shouldn’t’ve-“
“Don’t.” She catches his gaze and once again takes his face in her hands. “Don’t apologize, Spike. You...you're giving me everything I need.” He smiles and it slowly turns into a smirk.
“I could...give you a lil’ more.” He pulls his hand up and licks his fingers of her juices, keeping his eyes in hers as his trademark twinkle of mischief returns.
Buffy didn’t think she could want him more than she already does. She was wrong.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~