Buffy didn’t speak right away, resting her head against Spike’s chest and listening to his heartbeat as she thought pensively. It had been a few minutes since his request, but Spike wasn’t pushing her to continue; he probably thought she was sorting out her thoughts, and deciding just what to tell him, but her musing throughout the day had already covered that. No, she was stalling for time—and all to work up her nerve, a considerably scarier task.
When she told him so, he laughed, the sound rumbling through his body into hers and making her smile. Really, Buffy realized, there was nothing to be afraid of—Spike had come here for her, to show her that he still cared and wasn't about to let her little freak out ruin what they both knew they both felt. Speaking of, Buffy sheepishly thought, the fact that she'd loved hearing him call her his girl was something that didn't surprise her, although she reckoned it should have. She'd been out of a relationship for less than two weeks, only ever having been "serious" (used in a relatively immature manner) with two men in her life—but hearing those slightly possessive words come from Spike's lips had been exactly what she needed—so what did that mean?
"I guess I should start with what happened this morning," Buffy began, staring at the poster on her door and petulantly refusing to meet Spike's eyes—his perfection in knowing just what to say to make her melt was unnerving right now, and she couldn't handle saying what she needed to while drowning in those bottomless blue eyes. "I've never spent the night with anyone before, and I didn't know what to do in the aftermath."
Spike quirked an eyebrow at that. Never slept over? He knew she'd had at least a few boyfriends before him—his blood boiled so much at the thought that he didn't realize he subconsciously referred to himself as her boyfriend—but they must've been right poncy buggers not to want to fall asleep holding the beautiful girl in their arms. While the surprise at her admission was his first reaction, something else stuck in his head that posed to be even more of a revelation, and a subconscious one at that.
“Is this an aftermath?”
“What?” The question came entirely outside of the realm of possible responses Buffy had been expecting, and it took her a moment to realize what he meant. “We haven’t exactly made it through the time that most humans sleep through, Spike—those glowy symbols over there on the night table will tell you how long you’ve been here.”
“I didn’t mean that, and you know it,” Spike answered, his seriousness surprising her. “It’s pretty strange that that’s the word you’d pick, Buffy, to describe the morning after.”
“What does it matter what word I use?” Buffy argued, lifting herself up on her forearms to look down at the reclining male beneath her. “I already told you that I didn’t know what to do then—”
“—And while that’s a valid point, I think your subconscious made an even better one.” Spike lifted a hand up to brush her hair behind an ear, cupping her face tenderly before letting her rest her head against him once more, her face snuggled up against his neck this time and her cheek pressed against his shoulder.
“Point made,” Buffy grumbled, the pout on her face unseen but undoubtedly present. “Which brings me to my other musings, of the heavier variety. Are you up for it?”
“Up as ever,” Spike said, resisting the urge to make a dirty comment out of her phrasing. It would not do now to embarrass her, even in the slightest—she had to be entirely comfortable in letting herself open up to him, and he would have it so if it took him days, weeks, months—although he’d rather have it right now, if the fates would allow it.
“Okay,” Buffy breathed, Spike almost able to see the process of her building up her courage going through her head. “Okay, here’s the thing—men? Not my forte.” She paused, as if expecting a response, then continued when Spike rested his hand against her hair comfortingly. “First boyfriend—and I’m talking real boyfriends, not the mini ones you have in middle school and stuff. My first real boyfriend? A butthead if there ever was one.”
“And what exactly made his cranium resemble his posterior, love?”
“Ooh, aren’t you a learned fellow,” Buffy teased, peering into his eyes analytically. “I think your diction is betraying a secret desire to impress me with your knowledge.”
“And I think,” Spike cut in, his eyes twinkling despite the reproving look on his face, “that you are being evasive again.”
“Damn,” Buffy replied. “You caught me. I suppose we can’t just call this quits?” She only bothered to wait a minute before she huffed her disapproval. “Fine. He was a butthead because we were together on my seventeenth birthday and I woke up alone.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I found out later that he was back with an ex of his, and I never really spoke to him again.”
There was a moment of silence before Spike tightened his arms around her body, pulling her against him as close as possible and pressing a gentle kiss against her hair. “I’m sorry, love,” he answered, his voice husky with some emotion that Buffy couldn’t identify. Still, it meant more to her than he could possibly know; the only others Buffy ever told about Angel’s betrayal were Willow and her mother (albeit under very terse, uncomfortable circumstances), and while they provided fuel for many righteous indignations and wishes of vengeance, neither had been able to really heal the wounds that he had cut into her so deeply. Yet, as she laid here in Spike’s arms, his presence and openness and acceptance of her all clear as crystal, she felt a soothing feeling in her heart, and the pain of the past begin to fade.
At that moment, Buffy came upon a revelation. It was helping. All of this was helping her. “The next was Parker,” she said suddenly, seized with the need to explain to her new lover the motivation behind her potentially hurtful and careless actions. “My mom and his dad had both recently died, and I was new here, and I just… That ended up in about the same way as Angel’s, except for the part about him going back to a meaningful relationship—he just moved onto the next vulnerable coed.”
An unexpected sound began to emanate from Spike’s chest, where Buffy’s head still rested gently. Strangely enough, it sounded like growling. “Spike?”
“Bloody idiots,” Spike said harshly. “I hope you know that, pet.”
“I do,” she agreed earnestly, tracing around one of his dusky nipples with a tentative finger. She smiled when she felt his heartbeat speed up, and chanced a teasing remark. “This getting too much for you, baby?”
“I’m just hoping the list doesn’t go on too much longer,” Spike teased back, his anger mostly forgotten at the flirtatious actions of the blonde.
“Well I still have to sort out all the guys I dated in Sigma Phi Epsilon,” Buffy giggled.
“You’d better bloody be kidding!”
“Did you know you just said ‘bloody’ twice in less than a minute?’
“Answer the question, you insufferable chit!”
“You know I’m just kidding, baby,” Buffy cooed, pressing her lips against the skin of his neck and smiling when he let out a little moan.
“You do realize,” Spike managed to say a few moments later, “that you just used the word ‘baby’ twice in less than a minute?”
Buffy pondered for a minute, as if seriously considering the question. “Yup,” she replied, popping the ‘p.’ “But don’t worry, baby,” she grinned, “I’m on the last one.”
“Thank bloody god,” he answered, wolfishly smiling back.
“Riley,” she began, “was safe.” Of all the narrations, this one lacked the greatest amount of passion in her voice. “He didn’t hurt me, not like all the others, but…”
“But, he’s a right poncy bastard?”
“I guess you could say that.” Buffy gave him a rueful look. “I almost forgot that you two had met.”
“I’d rather wish we didn’t,” Spike muttered darkly, causing the blonde to smile.
“I almost feel the same way.” Really, she couldn’t—if she hadn’t met Riley, or gone through everything that she had before, would she be with Spike now? As strange as it sounded, only having known him for days, she wouldn’t trade anything for the world that she lived in now. Even in the deepest wound, one that had yet to heal more than six years after it was cut, the pain was beginning to ebb. “Speaking of ‘right poncy bastards,’ I think my dad makes the top of the list.”
It took a second for Spike to keep himself from patting himself on the back for his correct psychological analysis. “Do I need to punch him out too, pet?” he asked lightly, allowing Buffy to set the mood for what promised to be the heaviest part of her confessions. Luckily, she let out a chuckle and shook her head.
“No,” she said, “you don’t. It’s just, I haven’t seen him in six years, and our last conversation was not one about hugs and puppies.” Taking a deep breath, Buffy finally explained to the one man she’d been able to open up to about what had caused her insecurities, fears, and general mistrust of the y-chromosome in the first place. By the time she was done, tears were gracing her cheeks and Spike was barely able to restrain himself from doing incredibly stupid acts of vengeance.
“I can’t believe someone would do that to their child,” he muttered for the fourth time, stroking Buffy’s hair soothingly as her sniffles quieted down. “I’m so sorry, love, and I understand now why you acted the way you did this—”
“No, Spike,” Buffy interrupted forcefully, raising herself up on her elbows to look him in the eyes. “Regardless of the crap in my past, there’s nothing that can excuse how I acted, after you treated me so well…” She trailed off, a regretful look on her face before she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
A wicked smile graced his features a moment later, and his tongue curled behind his teeth lecherously. “I can think of a few ways.”
~*~
A/N: This is NOT the end of this encounter, fyi-- I originally intended for these four (wow, it's four, now) morning and day after chaps to be one LONNNNG chapter, but it didn't work out. So numero cinco will hopefully wrap up this long day. :) Thanks to all who are sticking with this fic!