Only you beneath the moon or under the sun
Whether near to me, or far
It’s no matter darling where you are
I think of you
Day and night, night and day, why is it so?
That this longing for you follows wherever I go
In the roaring traffics boom
In the silence of my lonely room
I think of you…”
-“Night and Day”, lyrics by Cole Porter
as sung by Frank Sinatra
The loud sound of a garbage truck jolted Buffy awake, and it took her a minute to register her unfamiliar surroundings. She was naked and comfortable, her head pillowed on something firm and warm.
A chest. A naked chest. A naked Spike chest.
The events of the previous evening came rushing back quickly, held at bay momentarily only by the morning after haze of confusion. Along with the memories came a feeling of all-encompassing happiness that only increased when Buffy heard a voice from above her.
“You awake, love?”
“Mmm,” she replied, nuzzling closer into his chest and smiling into his skin as he wrapped his arm tighter around her.
“Sleep well?”
“Mmm.”
“Gonna talk to me?”
“Mmm?”
Laughing, Spike quickly pulled her from his chest and up to his face, and softly, chastely kissed her parted lips.
“Morning,” he whispered.
“Morning,” Buffy replied shyly, ducking her head to keep from looking into Spike’s eyes.
“None of that,” he hooked one finger under her chin and raised it up, winking at her before rolling her off of him onto her back and leaning on one elbow to observe her quietly.
The bright morning sun that shined directly in his window usually annoyed him and woke him before he was rested, but today Spike was glad for it. The light illuminated Buffy’s hair, made her skin glow, and bathed her in a golden light so she looked every bit the goddess she was.
“Are you sore?” Spike asked softly, one finger drawing patterns on her stomach under the sheet as his other hand slid under her shoulders to pull her back towards him.
“No. I mean, not really…it’s more like, I know you were there,” explained Buffy hesitantly.
His eyes smoldered in response, and he shifted a bit closer to say in a low voice, “I could be again, you know.” He brushed his lips lightly across her shoulder.
She shivered at her immediate flare of desire, but when her head began to pound she said, “Oh, my head is killing me.”
“Wow, we’re already on to that method of rejecting me?”
“No! No! I really have a headache!” She stuttered.
“I know, pet, I’m teasing. And I’ve got Advil,” Spike leaned over to grab the glass of water and pill bottle he’d placed on the nightstand when he’d gotten up in the middle of the night. “Thought you might be hung over.”
“I’m not, really. Just headachey. Drinking all that water must have helped.”
“Figured it would, didn’t want my girl feeling sick.”
“You’re sweet,” Buffy kissed an available bit of bare skin, and swallowed the pills, loving the ease with which he’d declared her to be his girl. “I need a bathroom. And a toothbrush, if you have one?”
“Bathroom’s in there, got an extra under the sink,” he gestured to the door in the corner.
She glanced down at the thin sheet covering her nude body, then over to her clothes thrown across the room, while Spike lay back down on the bed and seemed ignorant of her predicament. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked the night before, but she felt there was something very different about…sexy-nudity, and wandering around his bedroom-nudity.
Hiding his grin at her embarrassment, Spike stood and moved to his duffel bag, fishing out a black shirt. “Want something to wear?” He was standing naked, proudly, as if unconcerned with her wide, watchful eyes.
“Yes, please.”
“Shy, are you?” He wiggled an eyebrow as he caught her staring at his semi-hard cock.
“Not shy, just…naked. And cold!”
He dangled the shirt just out of her reach, and laughed as she reached for it and missed. “What am I getting in return?” He put on his bedroom voice, low and velvety.
“Your ass not kicked?” Buffy replied smartly, her eyes flashing with a combination of anger and lust.
“That’s not it…” he mused, slowly picking up their clothes from the night before and his bag. “Perhaps a kiss?”
“Perhaps you give me the shirt, and then we’ll see.”
“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” He moved off to the bathroom, taking all the clothes in the room with him, and slammed the door behind him.
Buffy gaped after him. “I’m still naked!” She yelled out.
“Just the way I like it!” He called back, before the sound of the sink drowned out his words.
Buffy glanced around the room, slightly giddy, and observed the guitar stand in the corner she’d forgotten to ask about the night before. The idea of making Spike play something for her seemed like a pretty attractive one, but she shook away the romantic notion. When he emerged from the bathroom, she glared at him with all the fake anger she could summon.
“Give me the shirt, or I will seriously kill you.”
“Fine, fine.” He tossed it to her, and caught a glimpse of her bare breasts as she pulled it over her head, a glimpse that did nothing to soften his erection. When she slid out from under the sheet and darted to the bathroom, her ass peeking out under the hem of his shirt, he was officially turned on.
When she came back, he tackled her immediately to the bed, lips on hers, licking up the taste of his toothpaste in her mouth and shoving his hands up under the shirt.
“Spike! Get off of me!” She squealed as he mercilessly attacked her throat with kisses and growls and her sides with his tickling fingers.
“Do I get my kiss?”
“Stop! Stop!---Breath! Necessary!”
“So you surrender?”
“Yes, yes!” She kissed him sweetly, bursts of laughter escaping her lips and blowing hot air on his skin.
His expression was gleeful as he ceased his assault and let her catch her rapid breath, a few random giggles still slipping out. He ran his fingers through her hair as she calmed down, reveling in the impossible softness.
“So other than the headache though, you’re…feeling good?” He wanted to ask her if she regretted anything, but didn’t want to sound like a completely whipped berk.
“Yes. Aside from the little hammer in my head, I’m wonderful,” she smiled shyly. “Once the aspirin kicks in I’ll be right as rain. Where do you think that phrase comes from? I mean, rain…“
Spike stopped listening as she continued to ramble adorably. He fixated on her eyes, still slightly glazed with sleep, her hair, a messy nest of waves and curls, her breasts, barely peeking out over the edge of his sheets. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, exploring the soft flesh of her hips with gentle caresses, stroking her hand, rubbing her arm. The sun rose a bit in the sky, filling the room with yet more warmth and light.
She had stopped talking long ago, just reveling in his gentle ministrations, her eyes lulled closed as he soothed any pain out of her head or body with his fingers. They laid there in perfectly comfortable silence, until Buffy finally spoke.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, love?”
“Last night…”
He waited patiently for her to continue, but when she didn’t he prompted, “What is it, baby?”
“Um, this is probably kind of a stupid thing to ask, but since…I mean, since I’ve never done that before, I was wondering, was I…”
Spike didn’t need to wait for her to force out her nervous question, and he bent down to speak right into her ear. “You were amazing. Are amazing, as a matter of fact.” His voice dropped lower and he continued, “I’ve never felt the way I felt with you last night.”
Buffy felt her heart stop dead in her chest. “You’re just saying that.”
“No.” He raised his head to look into her eyes, and shook his head firmly. “I don’t lie.”
The alarm suddenly sounded right by the edge of the bed, jolting them back to reality.
“Shit,” Spike muttered and rolled over to smash the offending device, ceasing its loud, obnoxious buzzes. “Forgot to turn it off.”
Buffy slowly uncovered her ears. “You seriously wake up to that every morning?”
“I’m a heavy sleeper,” he shrugged. Noting the time, he wondered when she might want to head home, and asked reluctantly, “You can stay a little awhile, yeah?”
“Of course,” she nodded quickly, biting her tongue to keep from offering to stay even longer. His hands returned to her hair, massaging her scalp and temples lightly.
“Mmm,” she sighed, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Helping the headache?”
“Yeah…” He could lay like this forever, but a tiny mew escaping her lips reminded him of other things he could do forever. Sliding over her body to cover it with his own, he nibbled at her jawline and slipped his hand back under her shirt. She arched into his touch, so damn responsive to his every movement, but when her stomach grumbled Spike pulled his hands away. He was disappointed, yet almost relieved that he could draw out the near unbearable pleasure of her company a bit longer.
“Hungry?”
“Yup” she said reluctantly. “Buffy need food.”
With a kiss to her nose, he climbed off the bed and turned on his CD player, quickly slipping in a disc, then from the speakers came a Frank Sinatra song. He grabbed a pair of his sweatpants and held them out to her. “Here, put these on. Don’t want to get cold.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “But I can just wear Faith’s, if you could…hand them over.”
“These are nice and clean, though.” And she’d be fully dressed in his clothes, which was an image he desperately needed to have.
“Um, I think I should probably change back into her stuff later, though,” said Buffy softly.
“It’s alright, you can keep mine, pet.”
Her chest physically hurt as she said, “No, I think…I mean, for when I show up at home, later, I shouldn’t be wearing…”
“…Oh. Right.”
He turned away to hide his expression, grabbed the items out of the laundry basket, and carefully folded them, giving himself time to cool his temper and her to dress. He heard her shut the bathroom door, and noticed a tiny scrap of white lace peeking out of the pajama pants she’d been wearing the night before. Impulsively he took it and shoved it in the pocket of his duffel bag. When he finally turned back around to see her standing in his vintage Sex Pistols shirt and favorite sweats from university, he shoved his anger away forcefully and wrapped her up in his arms, hugging her tightly before dropping her onto the bed.
“Hey!” she giggled as she bounced on the mattress.
“Don’t move. I’ll be back.” Spike threw on some sweats of his own and slid his feet into a pair of flip flops, tossed her one last happy smile, and headed out to the small fridge and shelf under the bar where Xander let him keep some food.
He rummaged quickly, wishing he could make her a lavish breakfast but having neither a kitchen, nor the ingredients, nor really the skills to do so. He hummed softly to himself, digging out a loaf of bread and some jam, then looked around for the apple he was sure he had somewhere.
“He’s humming Sinatra. This is bad.”
“Morning, Faith,” he sighed, hardly startled by her appearance from upstairs. He’d been hoping he could avoid his friends and get back to Buffy as quickly as possible, but it seemed like he was out of luck. “Why are you down here?”
“Was listening for you.” She began to sing. “Night and day…Why is it so?...This longing for you follows where I go…” Her voice broke on a note.
“You messed up the lyrics, and please never sing again.”
“Oh, snappy,” Xander teased as Spike stood and turned to face the couple. The bartender was dressed in an old, tiny battered robe that looked to be a woman’s, and Faith was wrapped only in a white sheet, makeup smeared under her eyes and hair mussed in wild curls. “But look at that glow about him. Methinks Spike likes a girl.”
“You really have to stop with the methinks, Xander. You say it all the bloody time.”
“It’s true, baby, it’s obnoxious,” Faith agreed. “So? Details, quick, my man.”
“Don’t kiss and tell,” he said gruffly, gathering up his scavenged food.
“First of all, that’s a lie, because I could tell you the number of moles on that stripper’s ass you slept with in Vegas. Two, you’re not feeding her that!” The brunette exclaimed, observing the meager offerings in his arms. “Bring her upstairs, Xander will cook.”
“I will?”
“You will.”
“No, no, it’s fine---“ Spike tried to protest.
“Go, now, my peroxide idiot. You can’t feed a girl like that scraps from your bachelorhood.”
“But---“
“No.”
Spike surrendered and dumped the food on the bar. “But if she doesn’t want to come up, we’re not coming up. And no teasing, I’ll kill you both if you make her uncomfortable.”
“Tell her there’s pancakes!” Xander said happily. “She liked my pancakes, Faith.”
“Great, why don’t you just go and hump her leg if you like her so much.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Keep it in your pants, asshole.”
Their bickering followed him down the hall, and he knocked gently on the door and peeked his head in.
“You don’t have to knock, it’s your room,” Buffy smiled from her seat on the bed. “And it’s not like you haven’t already seen me all…naked.” She giggled.
“Very true, love. Faith and Xander are making breakfast, they want us to join. But we don’t have to if you don’t want.”
She screwed up her little nose in thought, and nodded. “We could do that. Do you want to?”
“I want what you want, baby,” he smiled. She hopped off the bed and slid her feet into Faith’s slippers, then grasped his hand and followed him back out to the bar and up the stairs to the apartment above.
“Hi, Buffster!” Xander said loudly when she entered, no longer in the robe but dressed in horrible bright yellow plaid PJ pants and a Superman t-shirt. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine, Xander,” she replied, giggling slightly at the furious glare Spike was giving the other man.
“B! Get your cute little ass in here!” Faith called from the bedroom.
Glancing awkwardly at Spike, she headed towards the bedroom door, which opened right before she reached it. She was grabbed and pulled in by a half-naked Faith.
“So, are we awash in the afterglow of the first time?” The brunette asked giddily as she pulled a t-shirt over her black bra.
“What? Why---How did you know---“
“Ah, I knew it! Come on B, don’t have to hide it from me, I’m extremely perceptive. I used to have this fetish, about deflowering virgins---that’s how I met Xander, but that’s a whole other tale I’ll tell you later. Anyway, I can see the signs and I guessed. Did you tell him before?”
“Faith, I really don’t---“
“Come on! We’re girlfriends, we talk about sex, that’s what we do. Like, for instance, last night Xander had me wear this outfit---“
“Okay! Okay!” Buffy blushed bright red and covered her face with her hands. “I surrender! Yes, I told him.”
“And did he make it all sweet and romantic? Spike seems like the kind of guy to do that.” Faith sprawled on the bed and patted the comforter next to her.
“Yeah, he did,” she moved to sit down, relaxing and starting to like the idea of getting Faith’s advice on the whole situation. “It was…amazing.”
“Amazing, huh? Very jealous.”
“Yeah, he’s…”
“Smoking hot? A demon in the sack? Hung like a racehorse? Or Ron Jeremy?”
“Faith!”
“What? I’m just trying to help you along!”
Buffy stared at her in horror for a moment, then burst into laughter suddenly, falling back on the bed next to the other girl.
“Wow, are you on drugs?” Faith observed her carefully. “No, pupils are normal. Must be the endorphins or whatever from the multiple orgasms. He doesn’t strike me as a wham, bam, thank you ma’am type of guy.”
“Definitely not,” Her laughter slowed, and her body tingled a bit just from the memories.
“So he took care of you, then. Good, I don’t have to kick his ass.”
“No, you leave his ass alone!”
“Slut.”
They both cracked up this time, entire bodies shaking with the force of their laughter. They’d almost calmed down when from outside the door, they heard Spike yell.
“You two birds better not be talking about me!”
Their laughter renewed again, only fading when they both ran out of air.
“I seriously love you, B,” Faith gasped out. “You’re a trip.”
“Am I?”
“I mean, in one night you go from little miss goody-two shoes to a…a devirginized version of the same. It’s fucking awesome.”
“I’m not a goody-two shoes!”
“Right, right.” Faith rolled over and sat up, finally going to put on a pair of track pants. “You should come to karaoke night on Tuesday. It’s fucking hilarious.”
“I’ll be there,” Buffy grinned and leaned back against the headboard, arms around her knees. Once fully clothed Faith came to sit back down in front of her, folding her legs up and observing the other girl carefully.
“Is there something on my face?” She touched it quickly.
“Have you guys, you know, done the big talk thing?”
“No, we…I mean, we don’t need to.”
“B, come on. You like him. A lot.”
“Yeah, but…There’s really nothing to talk about, I knew he was leaving and he knew that I’m…you know, complicated.”
Faith’s dark eyes flashed with hesitation, but she said, “Did he tell you why he’s leaving?”
“Not…not exactly,” Buffy glanced towards the door, suddenly not liking the direction this conversation was going but not desperately wanting to find out.
“I probably shouldn’t…you know what, whatever, you’re my girl and you should know. Spike was really fucked up after he broke up with that creepy witch, and he thinks there’s no way for him to get better if he’s stuck in this stupid town.”
“What do you mean, fucked up?” She was whispering now, feeling enormously guilty for what seemed like malicious gossip about the man she’d just spent the night with. But at the same time, she was finally getting a deeper glimpse of who he really was. Despite their night of conversation, she still felt as if she knew nothing about him.
“Partying too much, just in a dark place. He kind of…there was a car accident and we were okay, but he freaked out that he could have hurt me or whatever. He’s got crazy writer’s block or whatever now, and that Dru bitch keeps calling him when she’s high, and he’s finally almost paid off all these bills from spoiling the psycho with presents…And I’m not telling you this because…shit.” She blew a chunk of hair out of her face. “Okay, all I’m saying is, he thinks he has to leave to be happy. And I don’t think that’s true. So, think about it, B.”
“Mistresses! Your meal is served!” Xander yelled from the kitchen.
Faith mimed zipping her lip and winked, then headed out into the main room demanding milk. Slightly dazed, Buffy followed.
