Chapter 7
One night during the first week of senior year, Buffy hears Spike and Dru having a particularly nasty fight. His shades are closed. Buffy hasn’t seen him all summer, by choice, and neither does she want to see him now.
But she’s heard plenty. They fight and they fuck. That’s what Dru calls it. She shouts it out, over and over. Now Buffy hates the word. Hates that lazy accent, hates the sound of her moans and screams.
This night, she’s been saying it plenty. It’s a good thing Spike’s mom is working nights. Buffy can’t bear to think of his mother hearing this.
“Come on, Spike. Come fuck me. Try some of this. It’s fucking good shit.”
“No! Bloody hell, Dru, I told you, I’m not taking that! Don’t care how good it is.”
“C’mon, love, don’t be such a stick in the mud! We can fly away together, right up to the stars…”
“Dru, no.” A pause. “Stop it!” A loud grunt, then a crash. Glass smashing, as Dru hollers out a wordless cry.
Buffy then hears the awful sound of flesh hitting bone. Spike cries out, and there is another exclamation of “FUCK!” from Dru. They both breathe heavily for a half minute before Dru laughs at him, a cruel sound, full of spite.
“Pretty Spike. Doesn’t want to follow where I go. Wants to be a good boy for his mummy. For his little friends. Keep pushing me away, and I’ll tell them all what a sorry little boy you really are. Crying for your lost daddy.”
Spike’s retort sounds spoken through gritted teeth. “Shut UP.”
She imitates his baritone, but her tone holds a sneer. “I’m going to college, gonna be a writer. HA! You’re not going anywhere, except here. Right in here. In me. Come inside, my darling boy…”
Buffy hears Dru gasp, and then Spike rasps out, “Get. Out.”
“What did you say?” Dru snaps at him, her tone incredulous.
“Get. Out. You. Crazy. Bloody. BITCH. I’m not puttin’ up with this shit anymore. You think I need you? Need your cunt, your drugs, and your addict friends? Well, you are wrong! You’re not worth it! Take your heroin-laced ass and GET THE FUCK OUT!”
Buffy jumps at the sheer volume of his voice. She’s never heard anyone so furious. Never heard him so full of hate.
Dru’s voice is thick with venom as she spits back, “ HA. I know what you want. Pretty princess in an ivory tower, you her brave knight. But I know the real you. You’re no saint. All black inside, just like me. Don’t you know? You belong to me. You’re MINE.”
Buffy hears his bedroom door, and then the front door of his house slam as Dru leaves. She sits on her bed in shock, listening to him smash up his room for the next several minutes. Even as she is sorry for his pain, she is a bit afraid of him, too. She’s glad Dru’s gone. Maybe now this violent Spike will go too, and her William will return.
**********
The next morning, when Buffy goes downstairs for breakfast, her Mom is already up and waiting for her in the kitchen. Joyce’s face is puffy, her eyes bloodshot.
"Mom? What's going on?"
Joyce motions for Buffy to sit down and sobbing her way through, admits she’s caught her husband cheating. That he’s leaving them. She reaches for Buffy’s hand, but Buffy doesn’t feel the touch. She’s gone numb inside. She knew this was coming, all summer long. It’s almost a relief to have it here at last. No more secrets to keep.
Her mom is saying something to her, words of comfort, but she doesn’t want to hear. Doesn’t want to be in her mother’s pain, relive everything she felt herself just 4 months ago. So instead she gets up from the table. Tells her mom she is ok, but just really needs to be alone. She forces herself seem calm on the outside because she doesn’t want to add to her mother’s pain.
Her mom looks like letting her go is the last thing she wants, but she does. Buffy pulls on her sandals and heads for the only place that has ever been safe for her.
The woods are changing. A few trees are tipped with yellow and pale orange, but the warmth of Indian summer is rising from the earth. Buffy feels the rocks in the dirt path beneath her feet and wonders how far she could get if she just kept walking.
She makes her way to the tree house. But once she gets there, she sees it is falling down. The floor has rotted and half of it sags down like a hammock. Seeing that, she feels like there is no safe place for her anymore.
Just as she is about to turn, she catches a glimpse of white around the back of the tree that holds the tree house.
“Spike?”
He jumps up, whipping around the tree to face her.
“Buffy! What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you at school?”
“My dad- he’s gone. Left us.” She feels the ache in her belly, in her chest, but still the tears don’t come.
“Oh, balls. That right bastard. I’m sorry. I know how you feel, love. Had the same when my father left me that note that he wasn’t coming here. Didn’t want to be with me and mum anymore, and… are you all right?”
“No,” she answers simply, as her head starts to swim. Having him here, feeling so many emotions after hearing his break with Dru last night, not eating dinner the night before or breakfast this morning, has her feeling light-headed. She brings her hands to her head, and he rushes to her side. As she sits down heavily on the ground, he pulls off his leather coat and shirt and balls them up. Helps her lie back on them, in the shade under their tree.
She closes her eyes, waiting for her head to stop spinning. She feels him smoothing her hair back from her face, blowing cool air on her forehead. When her head clears, she opens her eyes to see him hovering over her, propped up on his left arm, his face hovering over hers.
“You all right in there?” His voice is so soft, silky smooth, deep and rich. Velvety.
A tear trickles out of the corner of her eye. Here is the moment he will pull away, she thinks. His expression is unreadable. She can’t tell if he’s really concerned or if he’s just being polite in asking.
“I will be, I guess,” she answers, as more tears roll back into her hair. “Was it this hard for you? When your dad left?”
He looks torn, his eyes looking all around, as if searching for a way out of this conversation. “Uh, yeah. Was a long time ago, though. You forget. The pain…” he pauses, his brows furrowing, looking as if something is connecting for him, “it fades, over time.”
She knows he’s thinking of Dru now, of the break up.
For a second his eyes lock with hers, and she takes a chance in that moment, looking into him, to offer her sympathy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it hurt this much.”
Something shifts, opens in him. He shakes his head lightly, as if just now seeing her. His expression softens as he tilts his head to one side, looking his fill. So she does the same.
She drinks him in. The soft curl of his pale yellow hair. The sky blue depths of his eyes. The sharp planes of his face. The light shadow of his beard, his upper lip and chin unshaven. His mouth. Full lips, so pretty. They look so soft.
Her belly flutters and cramps, looking at his mouth.
His gaze flickers from her eyes and down to her lips.
Then he’s leaning in, drawing down. Buffy holds her breath, praying he won’t stop. He opens his lips and touches them lightly to hers, tasting. Brushes over her top lip, then the bottom, in feather light touches, with his eyes open, watching her. She’s terrified to move. A litany of “oh god, oh god, oh god” plays in her mind. Her head is spinning again as he breathes hard through his nose. He deepens his kisses, pressing his lips harder against hers, moving them side to side, up and down, slowly, tenderly.
She’s never been kissed before; she’s been saving herself for him all these years. But all the times she’s pressed her lips to the back of her wrist to practice, she never imagined it would feel like this. Like dizziness and insanity, like her insides are swirling and melting. She aches for him, in her heart and hands and between her legs.
She wants to be good for him too, so she tries to imitate what he’s doing. She moves her head a bit to the side, sliding her lips on his, opening her mouth to him. He must like it, because he groans darkly, although he doesn’t press for more. He just kisses her, slow and soft, deep, over and over, until she can’t breathe and has to pull away.
He rests his forehead against hers, panting his breath against her face, one hand gripping her hip. She is gasping too, her palm creeping up to the back of his neck, then sliding forward to his jaw. When she opens her eyes, she sees his right eye is swollen, the socket black and blue.
She ghosts her fingers over his eye as he looks away. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
His voice is thick with desire as he answers softly, “Yeah, it hurts. I’ll live.”
She puts her hand on top of his head, tipping his chin down. She trembles as she lightly touches her lips to his eyelid.
He flinches a little, whispering, “Ow.”
But then they both realize he’s gazing down at her breasts. He looks up to her face, searching, and her eyes fill with tears. She’s completely overrun with emotion; he’s silently asking permission to go further.
She closes her eyes, turning her head aside. It’s too much to take in. Everything she wants is right here.
He lowers his face, pressing his open mouth between her breasts, sliding his hand up from her hip to her ribs, the tips of his fingers pressing just beneath the swell of her left breast.
“Buffy,” he whispers out, desperate, hurting and hungry.
The grass tickles her face as his lips roam over the swells of her breasts. She smells the soil, hears birds singing in the canopy above. When she opens her eyes, she sees sunlight streaming through the leaves, in a thousand pinpoints and splashes of light.
He bends his neck to nuzzle his lips over one nipple through the fabric of her shirt. Her legs fall open, and he nestles himself between them, his hips pressed to hers. His erection is hard and insistent against her pubic bone.
The sudden awareness of his arousal makes her gasp.
She knows what that part of him looks like. Because she’s seen him.
With Dru.
The knowledge of what he has done with Dru, how experienced he is, and how fresh he is off their breakup, comes flooding in. She doesn’t want to be his rebound girl, his consolation prize.
“Spike, wait. Wait…” she manages to gasp out. “What… what are we doing?”
He lifts himself up on both hands, poised over her, looking unsure again. “What are we…?”
She reaches up, touching the crest of his cheekbone, just beneath his black eye. “She did this to you.” It’s not a question. She wants him to know that she knows.
He pulls back and stands, embarrassed, looking away from her.
She hates herself for reminding him, but before she can stop herself, she is babbling.
“I know she hit you, Spike. I heard what happened last night.” She pinches her lips together, trying to get herself to stop talking.
He laughs, a dry, bitter snort, one eyebrow cocked. “Did you now?”
She needs to back pedal, before all the sweetness between them is ruined. “I’m sorry,” she offers. “My window was open and- the yelling- it was kinda loud…”
“Oh. Right,” he answers, his tone cool.
“Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. That she was so mean to you.” She reaches out, extending her arm toward him.
He takes her hand, pulling her to her feet then letting go awkwardly. “Me too. Thanks.” He is pulling away again.
She desperately wants to keep him close, so she offers, “I’d never hurt you. You know that, right?”
He doesn’t answer. It’s as if she’s said nothing. He grabs his duster off the ground and fishes out his cigarettes, lights one up. “C’mon. Best get you back now,” he says, turning and walking away down the path. She trails behind him, feeling the loss of both him and her dad that morning.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“You have me. I’m here.”
He pulls away from her then, drawing his knees up to his chest, hugging his shins with his arms.
“For how long?” He asks her, sounding completely forlorn.
Buffy is desperate to make him see how earnest she is. She swipes away the tears on his face, then slides her hand down his arm to capture one of his hands in both of hers. “For as long as you need me.”
"Always needed you. There’s never been anyone else.”
She is taken aback at this. Surely there have been other women since then? But then, she has never found anyone that measured up to him....
But all those years ago, she thinks, there WAS someone else.
"What about Dru?” she asks.
He looks up at her, releasing his legs to the floor. He’s clearly surprised. “Don’t you know? All this time, and you still don't know..." His voice trails off as he shakes his head. "I never loved her. Dru wrecked herself because she knew I didn’t love her. Couldn’t be what I wanted." He pauses, blinking, his lip quivering with a shuddering breath. “She wasn’t you.” He looks away again, full of despair. “Didn’t matter, though. In the end, you didn’t want me.”
She takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. She annunciates each word to be sure he gets her meaning clearly. ”I DID want you. I still do.” He turns his head away in the cradle of her hands.
“But- you left.” There’s no malice in his voice. It’s a simple statement of fact.
“Yes, I did. Because you went back to her. You chose HER, not me.”
“Was scared. Stupid. Made bad choices, for all of us.” His face is full of regret and pain.
“That was then.” She’s frustrated she can’t get through to him, through this wall he’s put up, so she leans in and kisses his cheek, feather soft, whispering against his skin, “I’m here NOW, okay?”
He turns his head, so slowly, toward her kiss. Tentatively, he brings his mouth to hers, barely touching his lips against hers.
He feels so fragile in her hands. Barely there, crushed down to wisp by pain and loneliness. She doesn’t want to scare him or crush him anymore, so she just stays still and quiet, letting him take over and taste her for the first time in nearly 15 years.
His lips are soft, just as she remembers. He is a wonderful kisser; that hasn’t changed. He’s tender with her, kissing her bottom lip almost chastely, with his mouth closed. The tease of it thrills through her. Then he moves his mouth to her upper lip, adding a bit more pressure and ummm-ing out a pleasurable sound.
Hearing that, she can’t help but respond. She slides her hands from his face to wrap her arms around his neck. He leans in toward her, their knees bumping as he moves forward. He parts his lips, lightly touching his tongue to the tip of hers. She gasps as her body responds.
The doorbell rings and they lurch back, panting and blinking at each other.
“Sorry,” he explains, “’s my mother’s lawyer. Here to go over the will, I expect. “S’cuse me.”
“Oh. Sure. Of course.”
He tries to stand and walk past, but she has to lift her legs up to her chest so he can get by. He awkwardly fumbles past to get to the door.
He opens the front door to a balding 40-ish man in a three piece suit, carrying a brown leather attaché.
“Hey, Tom,” Spike greets him solemnly. “Come in.”
Buffy stands, smoothing her rumpled dress, feeling very much aware that she’s been in the same clothes for a day and a half, and not had a shower in as long.
“Tom, this is Buffy Summers. She was a friend of my mum’s.”
The man politely shakes her hand, not really taking any notice of her. He is all business, and for that Buffy is relieved. “Pleasure to meet you Miss Summers.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Spike steps aside and gestures toward the dining room. “Tom, why don’t you have a seat at the table and we can talk. I’ll just see Miss Summers out.”
Buffy follows Spike to the front door. He turns before opening it to address her, the awkward tension still between them.
“Thank you for everything.”
“Of course. I should check on how mom is doing anyway. Plus, my personal hygiene leaves a lot to be desired at the moment.” She smiles, lifting one stray piece of hair by her face.
This gets a chuckle out of him. “Yeah, I need to clean up, too.”
“Soooo…”
“Uh, so…”
She can’t resist. Can’t leave things like this. “Can I come back later? You know, when I smell better? I’ll bring dinner?”
He smiles thinly, tension showing in his face. “If you want.”
“I do want. I’ll come by, maybe, 6-ish?”
“All right.”
They stand there, looking everywhere but at each other, until she leans in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “See you then,” she says, opening the door and walking out into the noontime sun. She forces herself to not turn around, but she can feel his eyes watching her walk away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
The second half of this chapter is a continuation of the conversation left off at the end of chapter 6.