Spike was off the couch and pulling on his duster before she even made it out of the room. They heard her footsteps slowly receding down the stairs as he turned to the rest of the gang. “All of you, stay here. Get weapons and the lot, and when I get out little defector back, ‘ll fill you in on the rest of the plan. Got it?” Everyone nodded.
He tried to stride out of the room all manly-like, but unfortunately his bullet graze got in the way. Scowling, he hunched his shoulders—the fabric didn’t rub as much that way—and slunk out the door.
He didn’t know what the hell had gotten into her, acting like such a lunatic, and to tell the truth he didn’t really care. She wasn’t going to get away with trying to flout his authority like that. No one did.
OK, who the sodding hell was he tryin’ to fool? He cared more about how she was feeling than he could ever care about the idiot struggle with the LAPD. God, he was half-convinced he wanted to spend forever with her. She meant more to him than anything.
He was about halfway down the block when he heard voices. Slipping into an alley, he listened to them approach.
He recognized Buffy’s voice instantly. “Come on,” she urged whoever was next to her. “It’s just a little ways more. Then you can see Spike.”
He stiffened. She was taking someone to his apartment? Was she off her bird? Who in the world could she possibly think it was safe to lead to his apartment?
His blood ran cold when he heard the other voice. “No need for that. I can feel him. Come out, come out, my Spike,” she sang, weaving toward where he stood in the shadows. “Show yourself, or Mummy shall have to be very cross.”
“Drusilla.” He stepped out, staring at the woman through narrowed eyes. Bloody bitch. Why the hell had she come back? Just looking at her made him sick. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see you. Just like old times.” Her eyes sparkled. “The stars told me you were here.”
“Did the stars tell you I’d shoot your pathetic ass if you came to me? You work for Rayne now, remember?” Personally, he didn’t understand why the man employed her. Bloody bint was an absolute loon. He’d known that even when he dated her.
“I didn’t like him.” She pouted. “He made me do all sorts of nasty things.”
”Um, Spike?” Buffy cut in. “How do you know her?”
He stared at her, feeling caught between a rock and a hard place. There was his dark beauty, practically come from the dead, she’d been so lost to him—and here, in front of him, was the woman who was rapidly becoming the center of his hopes and dreams.
He sighed. There was no way he could lie to Buffy. “She’s an ex. Well, actually, the ex. Only girlfriend ‘ve ever had.”
“And the best,” Drusilla said, smacking her lips. “Come now, my Spike. Don’t you want to make Princess happy?”
He ignored her. “She’s on Rayne’s payroll,” he told Buffy.
Buffy scowled and he instantly felt sorry for her. It had been less than two days ago that she herself had been on Rayne’s payroll. Meeting yet another crazy person whom Rayne employed couldn’t be easy for her.
“Not anymore. He rejected me. Please, my Spike, make Princess happy? Give Princess a home?”
Bloody fucking hell, it had been years and that look could still melt him. “If I find out that you’re still working for that motherfucker...” he threatened, but he began to lead her home.
“Princess will be good,” Dru promised, leaning into him.
Shit.
Everyone was still waiting when they got back. Spike opened the door with a bang, not in the mood to get almost-shot by friends who thought he was a member of the LAPD tryin’ to break in.
“’m back,” he called. “And I’ve got two traitors, not just the one.”
Buffy glared at him. Spike winced; it was a definite ‘I’ll kill you later’ look.
“Hey, Spike, we’re glad you’re—oh my God!” Willow stopped dead when she saw Drusilla.
“Spike, are you insane? She’s a nut! And hello, also completely style-challenged!” Cordelia reminded them.
Spike rolled his eyes at her. “Pipe down, all. According to Dru here, she’s cut ties with Rayne.”
“And you believe her?” Xander said disbelievingly. “Oh, hi, Buffy,” he added. “I’m guessing you’re okay now?”
Buffy looked at the floor, a mannerism Spike found incredibly cute. “Sorry. I kinda lost it for awhile there.”
“It’s all good, B.” Faith grinned at her. “We’ve all done it.”
“Even I’ve rebelled, and you know I’m not much with the—well, rebelling.” Willow gave her a tentative smile.
“I know that now,” she admitted.
The scene was interrupted by Drusilla’s growling. “The little girl wants my Spike,” she hissed, glaring at Buffy. “But she shall not have him.”
Spike winced. Bloody females. “Dru, there’s a spare bedroom at the end of the hallway. Why don’t you take that.”
She smiled at him. “Mummy shall be very happy with you come morning, William,” she purred, before sashaying off.
“Wonderful. She gets a spare room and I crash on the couch?” Buffy narrowed her eyes at him.
“You’re not stayin’ out here, you’re sleepin’ in my room.” Spike had the very great pleasure of watching her facial expression change from mild irritation to absolute horror.
“What? I am not!”
“Um, Spike? Why exactly will she be sharing your room?”
For some odd reason, Spike felt his groin tighten at those words. Hearing someone else say it seemed to make it more real. “Because,” he ground out, his voice husky with arousal, “I don’t trust Drusilla. She’s a loony bint, and she wants to hurt Buffy because she knows that Buffy’s special to me. The logical place for her to sleep is with me.”
“Spike, that’s lamer than some of the pick-up lines I’ve gotten, and I’m fifteen,” Dawn told him scornfully.
Spike glanced over at Buffy. She was watching him with a slight grin on her face. “So, Spike, you trying to hit on me?” she asked playfully.
A scowl blackened his features. “This is serious,” he growled.
Good, he’d been convincing. Everyone immediately wiped the grins off of their faced. “Right,” Xander said, “Serious. So, where are the rest of us sleeping? I mean, I’m guessing this just became a giant sleepover since the lap-dancers are on to us and all.”
“Some ‘f you can take Willow’s room, and the rest can sleep out here,” Spike said, trying hard to ignore the implication that he wanted privacy with Buffy. It wasn’t exactly a lie, after all...he glanced over at her tight little body and felt himself harden a bit more. Just the thought of her in his bed was driving him insane. He was probably going to explode when it actually happened.
“Isn’t there room for anybody else in there?” Tara asked, seemingly innocently.
Spike scowled at her. “No.”
For a second, about five different kinds of tension hummed in the air, among them the almost tangible sexual tension between Spike and Buffy. Spike’s eyes met his girl’s and for a second he thought he might burst into flames at the passion and anticipation that burned there.
Bugger. He’d worried about what would happen if he didn’t behave, but he’d never given a second thought to what would happen if she decided to be naughty.
And wouldn’t you just love that, mate? a nasty voice inside him whispered. You know you want her.
Yes, he did, but he couldn’t have her—not right now, anyway. Not when she was so unsure of herself that she was cuddling with him one moment and running two blocks away the next. Him fucking her into his mattress until neither of them had the energy to stand would just have to wait awhile.
Buffy ran her eyes up and down his form before smiling and licking her lips.
Fuck. He quickly shifted his duster to cover his now roaring erection. After that, he cleared his throat. “Right then. Let’s all get armed, and then we’ll go to bed.”
“We’re sleeping with our weapons?” Buffy said disbelievingly.
Spike shrugged. “Some evil nasty comes creepin’ in the night, you’ll be glad you’ve got ‘em,” he replied matter-of-factly.
He heard her gulp. “Oo-kaay,” she said slowly.
Jesus Christ. She sounded the tiny bit nervous, and now all he wanted to do was cuddle her until it was all better. This was getting ridiculous.
After they’d all been given three guns and twice as many knives, they set up sleeping arrangements. Both Spike and Buffy were helping the others with what Spike viewed as clearly overly-enthusiastic attitudes. Looks like ‘m not the only one a bit worried ‘bout sleepin’ in the same room, he thought with a smirk.
Unfortunately for him, his smaller head was still very much looking forward to having Buffy all to itself when they were done setting up.
“Well, that’s it!” Dawn chirped, grinning mischievously at Spike. “You and Buffy can go to bed now. You guys must be really tired.”
He scowled at her. “You’re a little devil-child, you know that?”
“Hm. Guess I know who my real dad is now,” Dawn teased.
He swatted at her, but secretly he was pleased that she could joke about it. Time was she’d have burst into tears if he’d even mentioned her parentage—or lack thereof.
“C’mon, Spikey,” Buffy said with a grin. “Let’s go to bed.”
Bleeding, buggering, sodding fuck.
~*~
Buffy was actually a lot more nervous than she let on. Just the thought of sleeping in the same room as Spike made her feel all weird and mushy inside. Not exactly scared, and not entirely nervous, either. She was actually pretty excited—she had been the one practically demanding that he fuck her earlier that day.
But somehow, she knew that wasn’t going to happen tonight, and not just because Drusilla occupied the room next to his. During the day, something had changed. It had been subtle, but sometime in between her tears and finding Drusilla, a new layer had been added to their whatever-it-was relationship.
And she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or big-time badness.
So, when she entered his room, all she could do was shut the door and stare nervously around. Posters—Sex Pistols, the Ramones, and a bunch of other bands she’d never heard of—decorated the dead black walls. The furniture was also black, and the carpet was a washed-out grey that looked like it had formerly been black. The sheets were—Buffy blinked.
“Why in the world do you have rubber ducky sheets?”
Spike groaned. “Shoulda changed those. Gag gift from Red couple years back.” He grimaced as he looked at them. “Bloody bint.”
Buffy grinned and sat down on the bed, bouncing happily. “Well, I for one approve. Rubber duckies are cute.”
“Hey! I am not cute!” Now he looked annoyed. Ooh, sexy...
That thought reminded her that this was Spike’s room. Spike, whom she had lusted after for pretty much forever. Spike, the guy who practically made her melt into a puddle when he so much as looked at her. What she did when he kissed her, Buffy wasn’t even gonna get into.
Her nervousness came back, only this time it was ten times as huge.
She cleared her throat. “So...um...you wanna take the floor, or should I?”
“Buffy.”
His serious tone gave her pause. She glanced at him and pasted a smile on her face. “It’s okay, I know you’re delicate. I’ll take the floor.”
“Pet, do you really think we have to sleep separately?” His face was open, honest, like it had been before she’d kissed him. Buffy decided right then and there that it was a big-time dangerous look.
“Um...I don’t know,” she stuttered. “Are you gonna try to like cop a feel, ‘cause that would be big-time gross, and ungentlemanly, and really really mean, plus also if Drusilla suspects she might like stab me, and—“
“Buffy. Just answer the question.”
He didn’t sound annoyed, exactly. Actually—anger began to rise in her. He sounded amused! He was laughing at her!
She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re willing to risk me strangling you, then sure, we can share.”
He rolled his eyes. “You can be such a pain, you know that, Summers?”
That hurt more than she was willing to admit, but she just stuck her nose up in the air. “I’m going to go change. You stay here,” she ordered.
Spike just rolled his eyes.
She came out of his bathroom (black tile—he was insane) a few minutes later, dressed in her traditional girly boxer shorts and t-shirt. She stopped dead when she saw Spike already under the covers...and if the pile of clothes on the floor was any indication, he was stark naked.
And smirking as he ran lust-filled eyes up and down her body. Buffy barely stopped herself from growling. This was just too much. Did he have to act like such a stupid horn dog? “Spike!”
Oops. That was supposed to sound all in-charge-ey. Instead it came out more as an I’m-a-frightened-virgin squeak.
“Problem, luv?” He was still smirking. She was gonna kill him.
“Nope. No problems here. Absolutely none.” She bent over and picked up her clothes. “Except the fact that you’re a slob,” she added, dropping the stuff in the hamper.
Oh good, the pile was minus the boxers. He at least had some underwear on. Unless he didn’t wear underwear...
Ew.
“You think ’m a slob?” He sounded mortally offended. “I’ve seen your desk, you annoyin’ chit. You’re not so neat yourself.”
“Oh, shut up.” She slid in next to him, staunchly ignoring the fear fluttering in her belly. “At least I don’t have rubber ducky—eep!”
Her foot brushed against his, and the shock was so great that she thought she may have actually levitated. She did scoot about two feet to the left and come dangerously close to falling off the bed.
And that bastard was just lying there, grinning. “Somethin’ on your mind?”
“Are you naked?”
Okay, that was beyond wiggy. She hadn’t even been thinking that...well, she had, but it wasn’t supposed to come out of her mouth!
“Would you like it if I was?” he asked in a low, husky voice.
It should have scared her. It should have made her realize that she was lying in bed with a potentially dangerous man.
Instead, it made her feel sexy. Powerful. Powerful and sexy enough to answer, in a voice equally as soft, “Maybe.”
He grinned, apparently liking her courage. “Sorry to let you down, but ‘m not.” He leered at her. “Wish I was, though, such a pretty thing like you right next to me.”
She flopped down on the pillows. “Just shut up, okay?”
His voice was instantly gentler. “Sorry, luv. ‘d forgotten how long a day it’s been for you.”
“It’s okay,” she said, sighing. “Although I wish you put some clothes on.”
He chuckled at her disgruntled voice. “Never said I didn’t have any.”
Buffy squealed when she felt his hands around her waist. The shriek turned into a gasp when she was pulled against underwear-clad hardness—no, make that rock-solid-ness. “Oh,” she said weakly.
“’m not doin’ this because I want you—well, not right now, anyway. I just want—I want us to be close. Just for awhile. Please?”
How in the world could any sane girl resist that soft, pleading voice?
Buffy sighed and melted against him, doing her best to ignore the wonderful hardness that made her want to jump him. “Okay,” she breathed softly.
His arms instantly wrapped around her, pulling her until she was snugly spooned against him. She sighed in contentment as she felt his chin come to rest on her head. He had such hard muscles, but somehow, in his arms, she felt like she’d just found the most wonderful sleeping place in the world.
“Goodnight, Spike,” she sighed.
She felt him smile. “G’night, luv.”
And that was the word that she went to sleep thinking about.
Love.
~*~
A/N: Thanks, thanks, thanks to people who reviewed! The reviews are always so wonderful because while I write for me, I post for you guys—so thanks! Oh, and Shippy—unless I was planning on killing Dru in a horribly gruesome way, there is NO WAY they’d hook up, lol!
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