Chapter Ten
Buffy woke happy. She could feel the heat of the sun trying to break through her curtains and the weight of her boyfriend’s arm resting across her waist. She had Spike at her back, his fingers lovingly sweeping across the sensitive flesh of her belly as his nose nuzzled through her hair and his lips skimmed her neck. Buffy shivered and allowed herself to be overwhelmed with love. It was so easy now, admitting it in her head. However, she had no doubts that admitting it to Spike would be another thing altogether.
“’Morning, sleepyhead,” he all but growled below her ear and Buffy couldn’t help but giggle happily even as her body betrayed how aroused his rough voice made her.
In answer, the Slayer wiggled against Spike’s body, her hand staying his at her belly and linking her fingers with his as she arched and stretched against him. Eyes closed, Buffy wondered if this was the moment. If she could choose right now to put all her fears for the future behind her and trust Spike with her declaration. Before she could make up her mind she heard Willow leaving her room across the hall. In fact, everyone in the street would have heard Willow’s leaving her room as the redhead slammed it forcefully before stomping down the stairs.
“Red’s in a good mood then,” Spike muttered darkly and Buffy felt the beginnings of the usual Sunnydale gloom filter into her day. The moment for grand declarations had passed and Buffy, desperate to cling to a little happiness, turned and kissed Spike intently. Her lips found his easily as her arms wound around his neck, her mouth opening and celebrating the intimacy of his tongue. This closeness was new—something she’d never before allowed. She’d probably subconsciously known all along there was no hope of denying her real feelings for Spike if she’d ever truly succumbed to this particular pleasure during their more sexually violent phase.
She never thought she’d ever be grateful to Riley for catching her naked with her vampire lover, but she totally was. It was a turning point that should have broken them, but had instead made them stronger.
Buffy moaned in blissful satisfaction, letting her body mould effortlessly into Spike’s. The slam of the front door interrupted their interlude and Buffy sighed, pulling away from Spike’s lips to find his shining blue eyes burning with understanding.
“I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen to you about Willow,” she whispered, her heart obviously breaking at the realisation that his words the previous night had more than a grain of truth to them. Her best friend wasn’t cured and by all indications so far, Willow was objecting strongly to being magically gagged. Buffy wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t recognise a witch about to explode when she heard one slamming through her house.
“I’m worried about you,” Spike confided. And Buffy could see his concern as plain as day. “And I’m worried about the Niblett. Witch doesn’t care who she hurts when she’s in the thick of it and she’s arrogant enough these days to think she knows better than everyone else. I’d rather none of us were around when she’s ready to blow.”
The seriousness of Spike’s tone made Buffy’s stomach sink in dread. There really was no choice but to do something about Willow before the unthinkable happened. Alcoholics and drug addicts hit rock bottom before they were willing to get help, and even then many of them were unable to stay on the wagon. Willow was trying to do it without the benefit of Betty Ford Clinics or AA meetings. How stupid were they really to think she could give up such a powerful addiction at the snap of their fingers? Without help—without support and understanding for what she was going through?
“I’ll call Giles,” Buffy promised, eager to see the subject drop and the sparkle of fun return to Spike’s eyes. She buried her face in his chest and wiggled further into his embrace, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in the sensation of love and contentment she’d surprisingly found in a vampire’s arms. “Maybe he’ll know what we should do about her.”
“If he tells you he doesn’t the git’s bloody lying his arse off. I know all about his Ripper days. He should know more than anyone what would be the best road to take.” The sudden harshness faded as quickly as it had sprung up and Spike growled low, his chest vibrating and making Buffy moan as she curled her arms around his back, squeezing the vampire closer to her body and regretting completely the decision to keep all her clothes on. “Anyway,” Spike said, his thoughts diverted by Buffy’s clever distraction techniques. In one smooth move he crushed his girl against his chest and claimed her lips in a drugging kiss. “Enough about Red…” And he proceeded to show Buffy how riveting other topics could be when they were treated right.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Willow had never felt this drained, and considering she wasn’t putting out any magical energy whatsoever, that was quite a feat. Walking the length and breadth of Sunnydale to try and tame her rage was exhausting, but it seemed to have done the trick, even if it left her wandering the streets at night. She should have been worried about this, being as defenceless as pre-magic Willow once again, but for some reason the newly non-witch could barely summon up the energy to care.
Feeling a tremor run through her body at the unexplainable apathy, Willow wrapped her arms around herself and gave in to a bout of the shivers. Not one of her friends had appreciated the sacrifice she’d made. Not one of them understood the pain her body was in constantly for having something so elemental to her being ripped away. She hated them for that—hated Spike the most because it gave her a focus besides her own friends. People that she’d supported with everything she was through each of their meltdowns, but when she’d needed them, all she’d received were ultimatums. And their backs.
About to slip into a fugue of self pity spurned on by bitter resentment, Willow almost lost her footing when the familiar deep voice of the hated vampire sounded abruptly into the night. A quick assessment had Willow realising Buffy wasn’t with him and so she hid, hoping and praying that this might be some kind of karma or gift—allowing her to see the real Spike to which the Slayer seemed so oblivious.
Spike was meeting with two demons—their red skin looked blistered and painful in the dim light of the street lamp but their too round eyes glowed a really astounding shade of purple. They were pleading.
“Please, Spike,” the shorter one implored, his voice high-pitched and desperate. “You’ve got to keep the Slayer away from the ritual.” A quick, conspiring look between the demons had Willow straining a little closer, eager to hear Spike’s response. Some agreement was reached through the silent communication and Willow held her breath impatiently. “We’ll pay you,” the other one offered in a frantic burst.
The lure of a reward for keeping Buffy out of the demon’s way seemed to pique Spike’s interest and he tilted his head to the side in consideration. “Just how much you offerin’?” he demanded, completely oblivious to the wide, malicious grin that had taken over Willow’s face.
Excited twitter erupted between the two demons and they clasped hands before facing Spike again. “How about a quarter of the profits from the first harvest?”
Willow didn’t mistake the surprised widening of Spike’s eyes and knew she was onto something big the second a confident grin split his face.
“I think you blokes have got yourselves a deal. Chuck in a bottle of Jack and some of those spicy chicken wings from the Bronze and look forward to a slayerless ritual,” Spike smirked, pure pleasure at the transaction obvious in the way he rubbed his hands together and pushed away from the wall he’d been slouching against.
Without even one second’s consideration the consequences of colluding with Demons, Spike had launched himself at the demon most likely perceived as the leader and shook hands on the deal. Willow shook with anger and turned away abruptly, the evidence of Spike’s betrayal making her feel slightly sick despite her excitement at being able to expose him to Buffy as the lying, cheating bloodsucker she’d always known he was.
Now she just had to get back home without becoming some other evil’s nighttimes’ snack.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
As much as Buffy felt her heart sink to her toes, she couldn’t help but be bitter at Willow’s obvious glee at having the whole crowd assembled for her explosive announcement. Anya and Xander had called in on the way back from the airport—announcing in great satisfaction that the honeymoon had consisted of little more than copious amounts of invigorating marital sex—while Tara had been by to see Dawn and Buffy on one of her generous, selfless visits.
Disappointed silence had answered Willow’s stirring account. Deep down each one of them had a desire to disbelieve Spike of such a lapse now that he’d managed to get everything he’d said he ever wanted in Buffy at his side. However, the past had a way of rearing it’s ugly head.
Buffy fell onto the couch and stared at the carpet. She struggled to let her heart tell her the truth—she wanted to believe he was innocent and the fact that Willow was the one with the news made that a little easier than she’d expected, but the memory of Spike’s stint as The Doctor was still a too fresh memory.
“I know the bloodsucker is evil and all, but I really thought he was bleaching his hat as well as his hair these days,” Xander muttered, his shoulders slumped as he looked around trying to find just one face in the crowd that wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel on the vampire.
Unsurprisingly, he found it in Dawn. The teen’s face was scrunched up in anger as she rounded piercing, all-knowing eyes on the out-of-favour witch. Just as her mouth opened and she was about to blast Willow right out of the house, the front door swung open and the subject of their discontent swaggered into the living room.
“Evenin’ all,” Spike drawled, almost swinging with feline grace into an armchair before surveying the glum and shocked expressions around the room with his own faltering smile.
“And a happy nightfall to you too, blood breath,” Xander greeted, though the grimace on his face as he failingly attempted to warn Spike of the rising storm belied any such good wishes.
“Buffy!” Dawn exploded, her arms crossed and her foot tapping a furious beat into the floor. “I think it’s time Willow either goes to bed or leaves the house, because I for one will not be held accountable for what I might do in the heat of the moment.”
Buffy raised tired eyes, exhaustion and the beginnings of a headache making her body collapse back in her chair.
“Willow is just trying to protect us, Dawnie. However, I’m not going to take what she’s told us at face value without an explanation from Spike first. I think I at least owe him that after the whole blowing up of his crypt incident. But for my sanity, please tell me it’s not an evil ritual to do with demon eggs,” she begged, turning to pin Spike with an alert and desperate gaze.
“What’s that?” Spike asked, a cute quirk to his brow showing his current confusion.
“The ritual you’ve agreed to keep Buffy from—so your demon friends can have a fine old time of hatching whatever evil they want without Buffy knowing a thing about it.” Willow stood back and smirked at the vampire, confident that Buffy would kick his ass all the way to his crypt and none of them would have to see him interfering in Buffy’s life ever again.
“You mean the fertility ritual?” Spike asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. And then the proverbial penny dropped and his lips thinned, dark eyes swivelling to the over-confident witch.
Growling in anger, a flash of gold turned his expression feral for just a moment and no one in the room could mistake his impulse for turning his demon on the witch. His control was a relief, but as the story unfolded, it wasn’t just Xander that wondered how Spike was able to restrain himself from lashing out at those that tried to keep him apart from Buffy.
“What bollocks are you trying to spread, Witch? That I’m out doing evil behind the Slayer’s back? That I’m untrustworthy and gonna kill her in her sleep?” His dislike for the redhead he’d once admired hung heavily in the silent room.
“Spike,” Buffy said softly, successfully getting Spike to redirect his focus to her. “Tell me the bits Willow doesn’t know. Please?”
He sighed, the fight dissipating on the first hint of Buffy giving him a reasonable chance to explain himself.
“It’s corn,” he said, his voice roughened with renewed amusement.
“I knew it!” Xander exclaimed, the newly married bricklayer coming to life, finger pointing directly at Spike. “Spike’s abetting the ritualised slaughter of evil corn.” His face creased in confusion for a moment before his finger started to waggle back and forth, not knowing who or what to focus on now that his statement had succeeded in confusing him. “No, wait, why would they slaughter evil corn when they are, in turn, evil themselves?” Xander retracted his hand and scratched his chin. “Nope. I’ve got nothing.”
Buffy snorted before turning back to Spike and forcing herself to take this seriously. “So, you were planning to keep this corn ritual from me? How evil is it likely to get?”
Spike leaned back and appeared to be resting, his lids dropping to half mast as he looked Buffy over and set her body temperature through the roof. “If you call a bollocks ritual to make Sunnyhell’s soil fertile enough to supply half the continent with their corn evil, then pretty damn evil.”
A quiet giggle tinkled past Tara’s lips before she could prevent it, and almost guiltily she threw an apologetic smile at her ex-girlfriend, it turning to a concerned frown at Willow’s seething hatred.
“So the world consumes killer corn now? Man, we are so doomed.” Xander shook his head and collapsed against the wall behind him, shoulders slumped in gastronomic misery.
Buffy was unable to hide the relief she felt that Spike wasn’t corrupting his new and improved self and was just glad she didn’t have to worry about Willow’s accusations. Tired from the struggle of it all, she sighed. “I thought we’d agreed on the ‘no more favours for the evil demons’ thing?” The gentle reprimand was meaningless as amusement passed from Buffy’s expression to each of her friends in the room—except Willow.
“I can’t believe this. If this thing was so…so…non-evil then why are they paying Spike money to keep Buffy away from it? He must be lying,” Willow refuted, shaking with fury.
“Will’s has a point,” Xander admitted reluctantly, becoming more uncomfortable standing between his best friends as they divided even further. Over Spike. If not for the major good deed that resulted in the firm presence of his wedding ring on his finger and not in the trash, Xander would have felt duty bound to jump Willow’s train until it crashed and burned. Unfortunately, he couldn’t deny there was more to Spike than any of them had given him credit. The handyman felt he owed it to show the vamp some sign of loyalty, but it wasn’t as easy as it looked.
All turned to Spike, but he only had eyes for Buffy. There was no shadow of deceit as he pleaded his case. “Every demon in this place is terrified of you, pet. These blokes aren’t evil—just looking out for their clan and earning their way. Plenty of demons do it, Buffy. I was going to tell them they were safe but then they offered up the cash. Bloody generous offer too. Thought it might help ease things for a bit.” Head bowed like a naughty boy, Spike waited for the blow. The silence stretched and his heart clenched in pain, expecting the worst and wondering when it was he’d learn not to be such a stupid wanker that screwed everything up.
Buffy sniffled and he looked up, releasing a raspy breath at the soft look of love on her face. Her lips teased in a smile, her eyes shimmering with tears of gratitude, and then she hugged him and the tension eased from his body.
“Thank you,” the Slayer whispered in his ear.
Nobody noticed as Willow slipped quietly out the front door.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to Holly for the continual support. And thank you all for reading. I do vow to finish this fic-and all my other WIP's. Just bear with me.