Searching her face, Spike waited for her confusion and anger to boil over into rage. Even after all this time the lust in her eyes was not totally unexpected, it went a long way towards explaining her seemingly willing participation in what he’d just done.
Hello, he might have just been resurrected from near death but contrary to popular belief he wasn’t completely stupid, he knew she wanted him. He had always known… even before she did. Buffy may have hated him, but she loved the way he made her feel.
It didn’t however keep him from the sure certainty that any second now Mr Pointy and he would be getting intimately reacquainted. After all, if there was one thing he knew about his Slayer, it was that Denial was her middle name.
As he looked into her eyes, expression stoic and heart steeled to bear the brunt of her final rage, he felt a sudden lurch in his chest. Buffy’s eyes were full of tears just as expected but the look on her face wasn’t the one he’d been expecting. For a moment, he was tempted to look over his shoulder.
Bloody hell, she can’t be looking at me like that…
Yes, there was anger in her gaze, but far outweighing the former was the look of grief and something else he couldn’t put a name to. He took another stumbling step away from her, thinking vaguely that she was just shocked to see him and that it would be any second now.
When she stepped forward, he steeled himself for the blow, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the hate in hers, when she finally ended their dance.
Seconds later his eyes flew open as he felt her small hands cup his face, and with her next words, he felt a huge sense of relief.
Oh thank Fuck! He was obviously either dreaming or delirious, no doubt still out of it after the big battle. Yeah, that must be it, he decided with relief, as dream Buffy said those longed for impossible words.
“Spike, did you hear me? I said I love you.”
He smiled down at her, a goofy grin settling on his mouth, thinking that this had to be up there with the first time he’d dreamt of kissing her for sheer terror and happiness all rolled into one.
Buffy was starting to get a little bit pissed… again.
First, he had run from her, then he had fucked her so hard and well that her legs were still shaking, and the biting thing? Well that was new, and definitely something for them to talk about later. Right now though, she was getting the feeling that the lights were on but nobody was home.
She had just told him she loved him twice and all he could do was stand there with a stupid look on his face, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.
“Spike...Oh for Pete’s sake, will you just snap out of it you stupid vampire.”
Her frustration rose when she got no reaction to her words. Stomping her foot she retracted her hands and took a small step back. Arms crossed, she studied him for a moment before shrugging and popping him smartly in the nose.
“Oi… Bloody hell woman! What the fuck was that for?”
It occurred to him then, that he must really have a masochistic streak if he needed her to be hitting him even in his fantasies. It was only as he tasted the blood from his brutalised nose, registering that it tasted strongly of the Slayer, that it finally occurred to him that his dream was just a little too chock full of detail to actually be a dream.
For a moment, he toyed with the idea that he was actually dead and that this was heaven, but when a small warm hand circled his hardening length even he had a hard time holding on to his disbelief.
Shocked blue eyes met laughing hazel as he stuttered out her name.
“B-Buffy? Am I dead?”
Looking down at her busy hand he gulped before meeting her eyes again.
“Not that I’m complaining pet but why am I not a big pile of dust?”
He groaned as she released his erection, only to gasp as her lips met his in a soft gentle caress.
She giggled at the incredulous look in his eyes.
“Hmm, I knew one of those two things would get your attention Spikey.”
Spike found himself shaking his head in disbelief, even as she pressed her warm half naked body up against his.
Smothering the fresh giggles that threatened to erupt over his dumbfounded expression, Buffy snuggled closer to Spike; at the same time maneuvering both of them back towards the bed.
Spike didn’t even realize he was sitting back on the bed until Buffy reached forward and gently pushed him on to his back before climbing on top of him and draping herself comfortably across his body.
He felt dazed and very confused. He remembered the call to Red, asking for her help, he even dimly remembered her feeding him and hearing her talk to Illyria about blood and a spell. He just wasn’t sure what had happened that had Buffy, a nearly naked Buffy at that, here with him in LA telling him she loved him, when the last he’d seen of her had been her dancing with the bloody poncy Immortal in Rome.
He tensed as his brain tried to play catch up, eyes darting around the room before coming back to rest on the face of the woman curled around him. His brain was unable to make the leap between being sure he would die without ever seeing her again, and finding her not only here… but also apparently here for him.
Buffy tightened her grip on Spike as she watched the confused emotions flow across his face. She had known that he was going to be surprised to see her. She’d even steeled herself for the fact that he might have moved on. What she hadn’t been prepared for was the panic and fright that had masked his features when he’d first woken up. He had acted like he wanted to get away from her, and until she had touched him it seemed to her like his demon was reacting to her, not the man.
Now he was here in her arms, she couldn’t help feel that as much as she’d enjoyed what they had just done to each other, she probably should have been stronger and waited to do the talking thing before jumping him.
But God I missed this, the way he feels, the way he touches me, the things he makes me feel.
Her eyes welled with tears as it hit her just how close she had come to losing him, again. It was the again word that had the tears drying up as her earlier and much more familiar anger returned.
Raising her head to look into his face she reached up with one hand to capture his chin and direct his gaze to hers.
“Ok Mister, you and I are going to have a little talk about why the hell you didn’t tell me you were back, and just what you thought you were doing coming to Rome and not letting me know. And while we’re on the subject Spikey, what in heavens name are you doing hanging around with - and I quote ‘the king of brood’?
You hate Angel!” Her voice dropped to a whisper at the pained look in his blue eyes. “Why Spike? Just tell my why you didn’t call?”
Spike stared at her, memories of the Hellmouth and his time at Wolfram and Hart rushing through his mind. All the love he’d felt for her that final day, and the anguish of missing her when he’d first returned.
Seeing her in Rome obviously happy and free dancing with another man had only brought home to him the fact that true or not, the words she’d said to him right before he died were meaningless. She had, despite her declaration, moved on to someone else.
Spike had, in those last tumultuous weeks at Wolfram and Hart, managed to find a certain level of peace, a belief in him self that hadn’t surfaced until he’d finally acknowledged that he and Buffy would never be. It was that acceptance and the knowledge that he was now his own man that had given him the strength to stay and fight by his grandsire’s side, regardless of his personal feelings.
And now here, at what he’d thought was going to finally be the end of his existence, was the Slayer… telling him that she loved him, asking why he hadn’t come for her.
And the final, terrible irony of it?
His eyes dropped away from hers, hiding his anguish from her.
Only a week ago this would have been a dream come true, Buffy coming for him, loving him, showing him with words and actions all the things his soul had yearned for. If it wasn’t so utterly typical of his fucked up existence he would have laughed.
She was the reason he’d found himself again, the reason he’d found the strength to fight what he knew would be his last battle. Seeing her happy had given him the strength to let her go and become worthy of the soul he’d won for her.
His slayer, always behind every action he’d taken, even before he first realized he’d loved her, and finally when his reason for being was in his grasp.
God it was all so fucking sad…
How the fuck could he tell her that he’d lost his soul?
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank s to Jill the best beta ever, and to all those people who took the time to make my day by leaving a review.