Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I wish I did, but I don’t.
When You Need Me
Chapter 1
He sat on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sides of his head as the dull ache pounded there like the battery of a marching band. His stomach felt horrid, his body ached, but nothing compared to the feeling deep inside that told him he’d done something so incredibly stupid that things were never going to be the same again.
He looked over his shoulder to see her. His best friend. His Buffy-shaped, amazing friend who’d been there for him through everything, including his mother’s death when he was seven, his father’s re-marriage when he was nine, and the breakup of that marriage when he was thirteen. She’d even been there for him when his father had to move back to London for his job, and Spike refused to go with one year of high school left. She’d been there when he’d had no place to go and again when he’d needed her help moving his junk into his new apartment at the start of their senior year.
“What the Hell have I done?” he muttered aloud as he got off the bed and turned to see her lying face down on the mattress, sheet strategically placed over her butt, revealing her tanned, toned back with tendrils of golden blonde hair splayed out over it.
She moaned softly and stirred in her sleep, and Spike felt his heart jump into his throat. He looked over to the bedside table, seeing the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s and the four empty beer bottles.
“Bloody Hell.” He turned quickly, finding a pair of his black sweats and a black T-shirt, slipping them on, and quickly making his way out of the bedroom of his small apartment.
He nearly tripped over Buffy’s purse in the hall, but he managed to stagger into the kitchen, start the coffee pot, and sit down at the table to think about what the Hell he was supposed to do next.
He’d slept with her. The object of his wet dreams for the past five years. He’d always dreamed about what it could be like. What it could feel like. He’d had sex before, sure. But with Buffy…God, he’d never imagined. He’d never thought it could happen. They were best friends. She’d always looked at him as only that, hadn’t she? But last night, the friendship train derailed and crashed into some alternate dimension with lots of booze and a lot…a lot of kissing.
He’d never forget the look on her face when she’d shown up at his doorstep. Her mascara was smudged, her nose and eyes were red from crying, and her lower lip trembled. The moment he’d asked her what was wrong, she’d broken down in his arms, and they’d spent the evening talking, eating pizza, and somehow that had turned into the consumption of way too much alcohol, which was the current reason for the pounding in his head at present.
He’d thought about how it could happen. Just about every porno-type scenario had popped into his head at some point since the first moment he started to notice Buffy as something other than his best friend that just so happened to have boobs and a pretty face. No. It was one of their many movie-and-pizza nights. She’d come down the stairs in her dainty pink tank top and matching pajama shorts, the room had been a little chilly, and her small but perky breasts were suddenly the object of his attention when her nipples poked against the fabric of her shirt.
Of course, they’d been thirteen, and he’d been way too much of a wuss to even think about asking her out. And despite his raging attraction toward her that only grew over the years, he’d never been able to muster up the courage to change their relationship from what it had always been to anything more than that. They did everything as friends and were as close as two people could be, but it had never gone any further than that. Never. Until last night.
Before he knew it, the coffee had brewed, and the aroma was filling the apartment. He could hear the bedsprings in his room squeaking, and he jumped up quickly, trying to figure out what to do next. First things first. He grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet, poured two cups of coffee, making sure to add lots of sugar and milk for Buffy, and he headed into the bedroom with two steaming cups.
She had just pulled her shirt over her head and was finishing pulling up her jeans when Spike walked in, his curly hair an adorable mess on top of his head. That was the first thing she noticed. The second were his eyes. The third was the dark, very visible hickey on his neck.
“Morning,” he said softly, placing her cup down on the night stand. He took a few careful sips of his own before placing it next to her cup. “Still hot.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Um…I don’t…I need a hairbrush.”
“You can use mine,” he offered.
“Thanks.” She dodged his gaze and hurried into his bathroom, closing the door behind himself. Spike closed his eyes, mentally berating himself for not being a little more forward and offering to talk about things. This couldn’t happen again, right? As much as he wanted to wake up with her every morning, things were just too complicated. They were best friends. They were seniors in high school. They were getting ready to go off to college, albeit the same college, but they would be studying different things and taking two different paths. What was worse? She’d been vulnerable last night, and he’d…had he taken advantage of her? Did she feel that way? Was that why she was avoiding him this morning?
His heart pounded in his chest again, and he sat down on the bed, taking a few more sips of his own coffee.
When Buffy emerged from the bathroom, her hair was still flowing down her back, but it was in much less disarray.
She slowly sat down next to him, and he handed her cup to her.
“Thanks.” She blew over the steaming cup before taking a tentative sip.
“Welcome,” he mumbled. When he glanced at the clock, he nearly choked on his coffee. “We should get ready for school. I’ll give you a ride. We’ll be late, but…”
“Spike? It’s Saturday.” Spike furrowed his brows, suddenly remembering his feeling of accomplishment the night before when he’d finished all of his homework before the weekend had officially started.
“Oh. Right.”
“Yeah. I…I should…you know, Mom’s probably worried sick, and…”
“I’ll drive you. I know you didn’t drive yourself last night.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, taking another sip of the soothing, hot drink.
“Buffy, last night…I didn’t…I’m sorry if I took advantage…”
“Advantage? What advantage?” Buffy wondered. “I kinda gave you the advantage, Spike. I was…I was a mess. I needed the one person I’ve always been able to count on.” She gave him a weak smile. “You were there for me, Spike. Thank you.”
“Oh,” he choked out. “Well, you’re…you’re, uh, you’re welcome.” Buffy eyed him as she drank her coffee, wondering if he regretted last night. She could tell he was worried, but at this point, the only thing she felt was relief that he hadn’t pushed her away. Of course, by the time the sex actually happened, they’d both been too drunk and too horny to stop each other.
“We don’t have to…to make a thing out of it, you know? What happened, happened,” Buffy murmured. “You were there for me, and I’m grateful. You’ve always been there for me.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and let out a soft sigh. “I didn’t think that would happen, but…we can’t let it affect our friendship, right?” Spike couldn’t help but feel a little tightening in his chest.
“Right,” he whispered.
“We’re ok, right? I mean…”
“Yeah. Yeah. Of course, luv. We’re right as rain.” He wrapped his arm around her, something he’d done a hundred times before. Only now, when he held her, he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to keep her here with him; wanted to tell her that he wanted more. He’d wanted more for a very long time, and now that he’d had a little taste of how amazing they could be together, he didn’t want anything less. But…he didn’t want to scare her off. He wanted her in his life, and if all he could have was her friendship, it would have to be enough, because she was the only person he had left in his life that was worth giving a damn about. His father had left, he never heard from his ex-step-mother, and the only person left in his life who had been there for him since he could remember was Buffy. And that was more important than anything.
***
After Spike dropped her off at home, Buffy had managed to make it up the stairs without her mother stopping her. She could hear pots and pans rattling around in the kitchen, but there was no sign of her father’s car, so she figured it would only be the two of them at one very silent, tense dinner.
When she closed her bedroom door, she pressed her back against it and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. She let out a sigh she’d been holding in since she’d woken that morning. She wondered if she’d been convincing enough when she’d put on her brave face and told Spike that the fact that they’d had sex—amazing sex, from what she could remember in her fuzzy memory—didn’t have to change their relationship.
The fact was, she’d wanted Spike for quite some time. The first time she’d seen him shirtless after he’d started working out when he was seventeen, she’d had dreams of him and his sweaty, sculpted muscles. She’d had dreams of running her hands over every inch of him, exploring him and…well, now she’d had that dream come to life. Only she’d been too much of a chicken shit to tell him that she wanted more. She wanted her best friend to be her boyfriend. He was the only guy in her life that she trusted. Her father wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. Everything in her life had gone to crap the moment her parents explained the reasons for their divorce, and the only person she felt like she could count on was Spike.
A knock on Buffy’s bedroom door brought her out of her Spike-induced thoughts. She closed her eyes when her mother’s soft voice drifted into the room.
“Buffy, sweetheart, are you awake?” Buffy rolled her eyes. So she hadn’t even checked on her last night after the fight? If she’d done that, she’d have found Buffy nowhere to be seen.
“Yeah, Mom,” Buffy muttered.
“Come down for breakfast, alright?”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Honey, you barely ate anything at dinner last night. You need something…”
“I’m fine,” Buffy pointed out. She heard Joyce sigh and hoped that was the end of it, but when her mother spoke again, she could tell that Joyce was on the verge of tears.
“Alright. Well…it’s chocolate chip pancakes. You loved them when you were little. I’ll…I’ll toss them if you don’t want them.” Her mother’s footsteps moved away from the door, and Buffy frowned, wanting to stay up in her room and make her mother wonder what she could possibly do to help her daughter. Perhaps her parents would both be worried, and they’d come together again through their mutual worry of their daughter.
Buffy rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. That was doubtful, considering Hank was already sticking it to some other woman, and the divorce papers hadn’t even been filed yet.
At this thought, she realized that her mother didn’t really deserve the avoidance like her father did, so she pulled herself together and headed downstairs to meet her mother in the kitchen.
Joyce looked tired but freshened up. She had to work today. Buffy couldn’t for the life of her figure out why Joyce was going into work. If it had been her and the love of her life had delivered the crushing blow that split their marriage apart, Buffy wasn’t sure she could function, let alone go to work.
Of course, Joyce had known about the affair for months. Buffy had only found out last night. She knew that her parents had been having problems, but all marriages had their ups and downs, right? Why did her parents’ seemingly perfect-at-one-time marriage have to continue down the slippery slope into a pile of garbage getting poured down on by acid rain?
“Morning, sweetie.”
“Morning,” Buffy muttered, sitting down across from her mother at the counter. Joyce slid a plate of pancakes Buffy’s way. Buffy had no appetite whatsoever. She was still hung over, and the smell of food made her want to barf, but to appease her mother, she took a couple of small bites.
The elephant in the room was parading around knocking over expensive, invisible objects, while her mother calmly spread butter over her own pancakes. Buffy stared at her mother.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to work today?”
“Have to, honey. We’re getting a new shipment. You’re welcome to come help me sort it out if you want.”
“Don’t really feel like going out today.”
“I understand.”
“Did…did Dad call last night?” Joyce froze for only a second before going back to her task.
“I’m sure he’ll call you today. He knew how upset you were last night.”
“Yeah,” Buffy mumbled.
“I know this is gonna take some getting used to, but we’ll get through this together. You know that. We’ve always been strong, Buffy.”
“But Dad’s always been there. He’s not gonna be here anymore, Mom.”
“But he’s not moving very far away, and he said you’re welcome to stay with him anytime you want.”
“I don’t want to see him.”
“Your father didn’t cheat on you Buffy.” She frowned and decided to re-word. “What happened was between your father and myself.”
“And his secretary.”
“Buffy…”
“You know what, Mom? I think I’m gonna go lay back down. I’m not feeling so great.”
“Buffy, do you want me to stay home with you today?” Buffy shook her head.
“No. I’m ok. Really. I just…I’ll feel better later. Promise.” Joyce reached over and stroked Buffy’s hair.
“You know I love you, right? And so does your dad.” Buffy frowned but nodded.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Good. That won’t change. He and I might not be together anymore, but we’re still your parents, and that comes first, ok?”
“Guess so,” she said with a little shrug. “See you later, Mom. Have fun at work.” And with that, Buffy disappeared from the kitchen, leaving Joyce with the clean up.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is my first attempt at an all human Buffy story. :)
Chapter End Notes:
Please let me know what you thought. I love feedback, and I'd like to know if it's worth continuing!