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Lovely banner by Edgehead73. Thank you, Mel!


Author's Chapter Notes:
Many thanks for the reviews for the last chapter! I’m so glad to know I still have readers for this story! And not only that, but my muse fell in love with it all over again. I finished a new chapter and have about 500 words of the next already written, so hopefully *crosses fingers* there’ll be another update soon-ish.


A million thanks to Tina and Deanna, who not only are the best betas, but also the best friends I could ask for. Love you, cariños!
Chapter 5. Eye of the Storm

Spike watched Buffy… and Angel—the pompous git—until they disappeared from his sight, waiting in vain for her to turn around and look at him, acknowledge his presence in some small way. She didn't, and it stung. More so as he stood there waiting for her to come back, apologize for walking out on him, let him apologize for hurting her…

His hands fisted at his sides as he tried not to give in to old impulses.

Impulses which were currently asking him what the fuck he was doing by letting his girl leave with that sorry, pathetic excuse for a human being. Which were demanding he go crash the damn party, who cared what anyone else might think about it, and bring her back home with him, kicking and screaming if need be.

Kicking and screaming would beat her acting aloof any time of the day. At least then, he’d know how to respond.

Although, giving in to his urges was precisely how they ended up in this bleeding predicament, wasn’t it? He’d given in to his desires and now the girl wouldn’t even look at him. Not like he could blame her, really. He’d forgotten everything but the need to have her after she told him she’d been saving herself for him.

He could’ve sworn she was right there with him, too, right up until the point where he came to his senses and started berating himself for…

Oh, fuck!

He thought back to the moment when the enormity of his mistake dawned upon him, to the moment when it had all gone to hell in a hand basket. Buffy had been warm and soft against him… until he started banging his head on the ground lost in his own guilt, then she tensed up and started to fight him. Doing everything she could to get away from him as quickly as possible, locking herself inside her room and forcing him to listen to her crying from the hallway where he couldn’t do anything about it.

Could it really be that simple?

Yes. It fucking could be! Hadn’t he wanted reassurance from her just now? Hadn’t he needed her to look at him and tell him they could untangle the mess he’d made?

Bloody hell! Why couldn’t he see before it had to be the same for her as it was for him? She probably thought he regretted what happened between them when that had been the last thing on his mind. Christ, could he be any more of an insensitive prick?

And now she was with that pillock Angel Fischer, in his sodding house, because of his stupidity.

Not for long, though.

He would go there, bring her back to the house and make her bloody listen to him, even if he had to chain and gag her to get her to do it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy had been at the party for all of fifteen minutes and was already bored out of her mind. It was blatantly obvious she had little in common with any of the other attendants… or with Angel, for that matter.

And she couldn’t stop thanking her lucky stars for that.

The women were more concerned with showing off their surgically-enhanced attributes than talking with her. Not that she wanted to talk to them, anyway. Holding a conversation with those girls would only make her want her to drive a stake through her heart or better yet, through theirs. It really wouldn’t be that much of a loss, in her opinion.

The guys… they didn’t seem much more mature than the boys she went to high school with, but at least the latter had the excuse they were still teenagers to behave like they did. What excuse did these guys have?

Getting drunk and getting the dumb bimbos drunker seemed the order of the day, and not for the first time since they got here, she wondered if she wouldn’t be better off braving being in the same house as William than enduring this. Especially when Angel joined her on the small swing bench she was currently occupying and handed her a beer before throwing his arm proprietarily around her, sending his friends what he thought to be a covert smile.

She would’ve flung his arm off of her and thrown the beer in his smirking face before going back to William’s house in a huff—to hell with what she might have to deal with when she got there—if it hadn’t been for the shock of white blond hair she caught sight of out the corner of her eye.

He’d come for her! William had come for her!

Hope flared inside her that he might actually care for her, might actually want to be with her, and she was about to get up from the chair to go meet him when she felt Angel’s hold on her tighten and his lips skim down her cheek towards her mouth.

She didn’t have time to blink, let alone do something to stop the brunet’s advances, because the next thing she knew, she heard a thundering roar and then Angel wasn’t there on the bench with her anymore.

As if she were dreaming, she saw William haul the taller man off the bench almost effortlessly and with much more strength than she would’ve credited him for, throwing him to the ground where he landed with a sickening thud and a cry of pain, clutching his arm.

The platinum blond wore such a foreboding, dangerous expression on his face as he towered over Angel that she couldn’t stop the shiver of desire that ran unbidden through her. It was so not the time for this, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself. He’d come for her!

“Don’ even think of touchin’ her again, you stupid, soddin’ wanker. Matter of fact, don’ look at her, or come callin’ for her, because next time I swear I won’ be so lenient,” he growled right in the other man’s face, an ugly sneer transforming his handsome features when the brunet cowered in fear, wincing in pain when the older man closed his hand around his injured forearm, squeezing it tightly. “Understood?”

He waited for Angel to nod and then added with an evil smirk, “An’ don’ even think of pressin’ charges agains’ me, boy. You an’ I both know who’d end up with the worst part of the deal, don’ we?”

The way the dark-haired man’s eyes widened in terror would’ve been funny if William hadn’t released him in that moment to pin her with a glowering, possessive glare that made her grow weak in the knees and her pulse skyrocket to the stratosphere as he advanced towards her.

He didn’t say a word, just grabbed her by the arm and led her back to the house, Buffy almost having to run as she tried to keep up with him.

Was it sick that his caveman attitude was turning her on? Because right now, she didn’t care if it was.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They barely made it into the house before William had her pressed against the door, claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss that robbed her of what little breath she still had left. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, tunneling inside her hair, charting down her back to haul her legs up around his waist, molding her to his body, sliding under her top and pushing it up to cup her breasts through her bra.

Buffy moaned into his mouth when his deft fingers moved the lacey fabric away to pinch and rub her nipples, electricity coursing through her body as she writhed under his touch.

She felt lightheaded, dizzy with need, with relief that he still wanted her, that he’d come for her, that he was kissing her within an inch of her life, almost as if he were marking her, branding her with every tantalizing caress.

Spike doctored her jaw with little nips and nibbles, his mouth traveling down the golden column of her throat, moving the cotton of her blouse out of the way until it wouldn’t move any further down and practically tearing it off her body so he could have access to the satiny smoothness of her flesh.

Their eyes collided as the fabric fell away, hers filled with the intense passion he knew was reflected in his, but there was something else in the emerald gaze that lent him pause… trust. The haze of lust, the overwhelming need to possess her lifted slightly as he realized they needed to talk, now… or they would end up with a repeat performance of that morning.

It wasn’t easy to rein in his desire, not when he had her half-naked, soft, warm and pliant in his arms, but he bloody had to. No, he needed to.

He couldn’t get enough of her, suspected he never would, and no matter what the future might bring, if he wanted them to have a shot at it, they needed to set things straight, now. Before things got out of hand… again.

“We need to talk, love,” he said.

tbc


Chapter End Notes:
I know it’s short, but I hope it has enough going on for you to forgive me that? *makes puppy eyes*



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