Chapter Twenty-Eight - Words, Words, Words
By the time he reached the top of the stairs she was gone, but he could hear her crashing through the upper floors. She was hurrying, but she wasn’t trying to be quiet—and she could be quiet. He wondered if she meant that as an invitation. Not that it would matter if it wasn’t, he tore after her like the hounds of hell were on his heels.
He wondered where she thought she was going, she had gone passed their room, and continued without hesitating.
He followed her up through No. 9, until the sound of a step ladder hitting the hardwood upstairs alerted the vampire as to where she was going.
The roof.
It was a blank space of roof tile and antennae; the Buffy decorating committee had not yet gotten to it, so it was still grimy from disuse. Spike figured Alex went up there to drink beers or smoke cigarettes or whatever teenaged girls did these days.
He pulled himself through the trapdoor. She had had a head start and she was already pressed against the low wall that separated her from a 50-foot drop to the streets below.
She retching pitifully, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the pavement. Spike hurried to her, shrugging off his duster to drape it around her. He brushed his fingers through her long dark hair and pulled it back off her face. He held that in one hand while rubbing her back with the other in small circles.
“I’ve got you, love.” He murmured soothingly. "Let it out. I've got you. Atta girl."
“I thought it was done, Spike.” She coughed out, she allowed the partition to take her weight for a moment. “I thought we got to the bottom of the Genesis Fuckery, but no! Here’s a lower place!”
She retched again, and again a few more times before shuddering to a stop. She tried to get up and would have fallen if Spike hadn’t been there to support her. It broke his heart to see her like this, she was blotchy and a few tears had managed to slip through her choke-hold control.
“You’re shaking, love, let me take care of you.”
“We’re having triplets.” Her voice was flat, she was still slumped over the wall staring at the ground below. “Do you know what this means, Spike?”
Spike didn’t reply, he just made sympathetic agreement noises.
Buffy stiffened under him, which alerted him. It should have alerted him more. She shoved him aside.
“Oi—Summers? What the—”
It was like someone had flicked a switch and just like that she was all piss and vinegar. Bugger but this was getting old.
"You can't keep running hot and cold on me like this you daft bint!"
“There was a committee, Spike! Those fuckers formed a committee!” she spat. “That sat there and decided that in vitro was the way to go because then there could be multiple babies! And then we can have all sorts of specimens to play with!”
She punctuated her angry with a few swift deadly jabs. Spike countered and parried easily.
“Exactly what—” He panted knocking a punch aside with a roll of his shoulder. He bobbed and dodged the next blow. “—is this tantrum is meant to be doing?”
He grabbed her wrists and pulled her up against him.
“Well, Summers?”
“If it had been beneficial to them they would have just made us have sex, Spike.” She spat, though she stopped actively fighting him. Her eyes were hard and cold like chips of green glass. “They took everything away, every choice! They would have taken that away from me! You! Taken you away from me! Like I don’t have enough freaking issues with trust!”
That made Spike stop. There was something there, something that made him stand straighter. She could have lost him. That's what got her knickers in a twist. They had always been in this together, since that first moment in that hall when she grabbed him, acting on instinct. It was something he had known from the moment he had known she was in the facility same as him, but she had never acknowledged it before.
The abrupt change made Buffy still momentarily. She studied Spike’s face, he consciously tried to keep his own emotions from spilling across his face.
It meant more to him than he wanted to admit, hearing her, bemoan the potential that she couldn’t trust him—because she did. He knew she did.
Somewhere along the line, he had become accustomed to being the punch line he was in Sunnydale. But they weren’t in Sunnydale, and he wasn’t that vampire anymore.
“Spike? Hello? Earth to the not-so-bleached wonder? How are you not 8 different kinds of rage-vamp right now?”
He released her suddenly.
It was a reflex. How could she ask him that?
“Are you bloody well joking?”
“What?”
She had tense, braced for the explosion.
But, oddly, it didn’t come. Usually a rage like that would bubble up into him and he would just release it, but the bloody chip had taught him to be cautious of those. Despite this, Spike had thought it would be hard to contain the demon right with such a blatant challenge. He thought it would be hard to pretend to be calm, but it wasn’t hard. He just felt the words coming out, and he was articulating a feeling that had already been cemented, and he was only just now acknowledging it.
“You don’t you think I’m fucking ragin’ out of my fucking mind?” He demanded. He didn’t lift his voice, he spoke matter-of-factly, detached. When he paused it left a hollow sound in the air behind him. “I’m livid as hell. I’m not usually cut out to be the waitin’ type but I’m sitting on top of this because of you.”
Her eyes widened, he wondered if she did that on purpose, she was flushed and breathing heavily, and he could drown in the deer-in-headlights look in her eyes.
She was absolutely scrumptious, but he managed to shake off the arousal.
“Spike—”
“You and the trips and Alexis.” He continued pushing his awareness of her to the side. He took a step closer to her, she didn’t step back. “Never thought I’d ever have a family, least not one like this. Didn’t know how much I wanted it until now."
He locked eyes with her, he had always been expressive, never one to hold back his responses, especially from the people who mattered to him. He tended to be unapologetic about the way he felt--at least until he got to Sunnydale. He had had to become more guarded but now he let her see. Let her see how angry and how hopeless and how terrified he was. Because he knew she was feeling the same way, but in Alex's words: she couldn't not be stupid about this. He could.
Her eyes filled with tears. She tore at them with the heels of her hands. Spike was at her side in a second, his hands slid around her waist and into her hair, pressing her tear stained face into his chest.
“I know, pet, I know.”
It was an impossible situation, and every time something like this happened, every time they peeled back a little more of the curtain, it just kept getting worse. And Every time they thought they were done, they had managed to process everything that had been done to them, another monster would rear its ugly head, another implication would make it that much unbearable.
They sank to the ground.
“Spike, they made me have children and then they made me have more and I am scared and I’m angry and I just want to go home, Spike. I want to go back. I want to hit delete or something. Nevermind trying to be normal normal. If I could just go back to being a normal slayer." Her voice broke. "I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Her breath hitched and allowed him to take her weight, finally saying all the things she had been thinking for weeks. He knew she was thinking about it, but she had never said it out loud.
“I don’t want this responsibility, I don’t want to be a mom yet, Spike, I'm just--I'm not ready.” She pressed her hands to her abdomen addressing the babies she had in there. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean not to want you but I thought there would be more other stuff first.”
He held her close and let her cry. She was heaving now, allowing the weight of everything to hit her. Allowing herself to finally cry about it, it was just them up there. No one else could see them.
Spike held her and listened.
“Don’t, Spike, don’t be nice to me. This is everything you want and I’m just— I don’t want it— And that makes me a horrible—I just—” Her breath hitched. “—I wanted it to be different. I didn’t want it to be like this! With me running and vampires and-and—” She seemed to realize just then what she had said and weight of what she said. “Shit. I— I didn’t mean to say I didn’t want them, Oh God, I said I didn’t want my children!”
She tried to fight her way out of his embrace but Spike was not having any of that. He tightened his hold on her until she stilled and relaxed again.
His own cheeks were wet, though it was mostly for her and the difficult situation she was in. The situation they were in. His outlook was her polar opposite.
Spike was simply over the moon. He was so guilty about it, he wondered if they had put a soul in him while he slept.
The pain had not been much of a problem for Spike. He had been tortured before and by more skilled hands. He had been cut open, had pieces shoved in his brain, he’d been burned and starved and rubbed raw before. He didn’t feel so violated, he didn’t ask the questions he knew she was asking now, because he had gone through it all, a year ago, and a hundred years ago. But that was then and he wasn't going to follow in his grandsire's footsteps and brood about it.
He supposed, however, that this might be harder for Buffy. He had never had to doubt his own feelings for something so fundamental as a child.
As far as he was concerned though, the children were just the kind of news he couldn’t properly process until they were a reality, all he knew was that he would move the earth and heaven to ensure that would happen. Everythig else could wait until they were here.
“You just told me that this is all you want in the world? And I told you I didn't want it! Why are you helping? You shouldn’t be helping me!”
Spike said nothing, just held her fast. He didn’t acknowledge the tears running down his own cheeks. He didn’t tell her than that he didn’t believe a word of what she was saying. He knew she was worried that she would resent their children, she was concerned that wouldn’t ever be able to get rid of this thing that happened to them. She was worried she’d take it out on them.
All bollocks, obviously. But he didn’t say anything.
He knew deep in his gut, in his blood, that the moment she laid eyes on them it wouldn’t matter. He knew she loved Alex more than she really realized yet. But he also knew telling Buffy Summers this before she was ready to hear it was not the idea of the year.
And so with this new-found patience, he managed to bite his tongue and just hold her.
It was very hard now to keep back the words. He knew he couldn’t say them.
It was like Chekov’s gun. He would see an opportunity every so often, but he would ignore it. They would tip toe around it, but he was sure some day or another it was just going to have to go off. And he had always been trigger happy, but his naked terror that what he had with her would shatter, kept him silent.
He felt the words so powerfully now. Holding her close and soothing her with his voice and his touch. Feeling her respond, feeling her melt into him like he was all she needed in the world, almost lulled him into murmuring them in her ear. He could tell her anything, he could make her understand.
He resisted the urge.
It was easy to be comforting, though. He knew that no matter what was coming, they would destroy. Because come hell or high water there was nothing, nothing in the world Spike was going to do to let anything happen to his family. But, she didn’t know that yet. She had never felt the onslaught of what Spike would sacrifice. Spike, who had braved an angry mob, circled the globe for a woman he loved but knew would never love him.
She was worried because she didn’t know that he would move worlds for her, for this. He knew she wouldn’t understand. So he said nothing and let her cry.
She let her head slump back down on his chest. Spike thought of saying something else, but he didn’t and then the silence stretched on too long that anything he did say would have to be meaningful—or profound. But right now he was content to just sit wrapped in her.
During his stay with the Genesis Project Spike had not fought back, he had not made a fuss. He had known that they were studying him, but he also knew that the less he gave them while he sussed out what it was they were looking for, the better. Spike was not good at keeping his temper in check, but he was a consummate survivor. He knew he had to bide his time. He might not have been able to do it had he not known that she was there with him.
Part of him was sure that the Scoobies would come and take her away, but after weeks of beeing able to sense her in a room just our of sight, or in the corridors, and he began to get discouraged. No one was coming for her, he realized. And that made the fight to be patient easy. She needed him and there was no way in hell Spike was going to fail her.
From time to time she would on the slab next to him and the smell would be overwhelming; Sweet like vanilla, but with an underlying spice to it, a tang of violence underneath, a touch of blood and gore that marked her as a warrior. He would know that smell anywhere. At first he had tried to say something, tried to communicate, but he quickly gave that up when upped his sedation.
Now that smell was everywhere, all around him. It had become a part of his scent. It was where he slept and ate. All while the slayer herself, an inferno of a girl, sat safe in the circle of his arms. He was sitting wrapped in everything he needed in the world. For once his thoughts around her scent didn’t center around taking her hard and making her his. He nuzzled her neck gently and dropped kisses on the top of her head. He just wanted to make her feel good, make her happy.
He let her sob about wanting to go home and needing someone to tell her how to be a mom and how to run a house.
He knew there was nothing to say to her that could really help her. Nothing would. She needed to be devastated right now, so he let her.
His hand flexed unconsciously. He wanted a cigarette. He pushed that thought away.
Buffy’s sobs were coming more regularly now, she needed a good long cry and he was determined to let her have it, but as soon as she started to shiver, he pulled the duster more securely around her and pulled her onto his lap.
He began to take deep steadying breaths, holding Buffy with almost vampiric strength, knowing that the pressure would calm her.
His instinct was spot on. Her breathing slowed. He felt her tension let up just a bit, he was holding her so tightly he could feel her muscles uncoil.
Buffy sighed unconsciously. She nuzzled against him.
“What are you doing,” She asked, Her body molded to his. “How are you doing that?”
Spike shrugged lazily. “Read about it on the internet.” He relaxed his grip.
Buffy’s grin was wry.
“Who told you about the internet?”
Spike chuckled.
“Told me about the internet?” he demanded. “Love, I have the whole day to kill, you don’t think I spend all of it watching telly do you?”
Buffy looked uncertain.
“Well, actually…” she said, giggling when he pulled away from her long enough to scowl. She relaxed back and let out her breath in a long
shuddering sigh.
“Want me to stop?” Spike questioned.
She shook her head. “No, it feels nice.”
“Just needed to calm you down a little, pet. All this worryin’, S’not good for the sprogs. Was told to keep you calm. ” He said. “And fuck if I’m going to face the wrath of that woman.”
That made her smile weakly.
“How are you so okay with all of this?” she asked
“M’ not.” He said embarrassed. “I just—S’going to be hard enough getting them to the delivery day, I can’t think past that just now.” He hesitated, but then pressed his hand over her belly. The mites were too small yet to kick. “M’ doing everything I can just to keep you safe.” He brushed his thumb gently over the slight curve. “‘ll do the whinging and the soul-searchin’ later. Possibly with a bottle of Jack.”
Buffy nodded, relaxing back into his embrace.
“What are we going to do, Spike?”
“Everything we need to do, sweet.” He said softly in her ear. “We burn the bridges when we get to them. Modus opperandi as far as I’m concerned.”
Buffy laughed softly to herself.
“Look at you with the latin.” She said. “Least we don’t have to worry about the kids’ vocabulary. They’ll be fancy and british.”
Spike haruphed.
“‘ve you heard the bit? The way she butchers the language--It’s clear she’s spent all her time in Scoobyland.”
Buffy’s bark of laughter spoke volumes as to her lifted mood, he felt her push her body up to settle back on her heels. Spike cupped her face, delighted when she didn’t pull away.
“You can’t worry about everything now, pet. We take things as they come.” He said finally. Now that her tension had ebbed he was a little more succeptible to the feel of her in his arms. “I talked to a high school headmaster today, didn’t fancy myself doing that ever again.”
“Again?” She repeated. “Weren’t you taught by a governess?”
“Until I was sent off to boarding school, yeah.” He said leaning back against the low partition that encircled the roof. He tried not to think about how good it felt to have her straddle him like this. She was so warm, all the time, and it was incredibly distracting. He knew that he maybe shouldn’t be thinking with his lower brain, but he was holding her, his golden goddess, she was straddling him and he could smell just how receptive she was to his attention. It felt so good to feel her wanting. To feel her rest her hands on his chest because that’s what she felt good doing.
“You were a delinquent? I never would have guessed.” She said with a coy grin. She leaned back and brushed against him.
Spike had to fight to keep his hips from bucking automatically. She was giving off pheromones, she had to, this was one side of her Spike knew he had total control.
“What can I say, baby?” He his voice a low velvety purr. “I’ve always been bad.”
Buffy’s hands had now found themselves around his neck and was playing with the hairs at the back of his neck.
He leaned into her touch, but let her take the lead. He was unsure how far she wanted to be taking this; she was petrified and sobbing only minutes ago, and then, he didn’t know what instinct made her do it, but she leaned into his neck and nuzzled against his sire mark. Spike moaned unconsciously and vamped out—the sire mark being a major erogenous zone for a vampire. To his surprise, Buffy’s response was a flood of perfume and just like that all the air around them was charged.
Baby wants to play.
“Did you want some proof there, pet?” He growled leaving his vampire visage in place.
He slipped his hands under her shirt and began to stroke her spine lightly. Her eyes fell closed and she leaned back, he slid his hands into her hair, massaging her scalp. She moaned and let her head fall onto his chest.
Spike smirked. This was fun, he knew her now, he knew what made her body sing, he knew how to tease her to make her beg. He did so love to make the proud slayer beg for him.
“What did you do to me?” She managed to whisper.
Spike cocked an eyebrow, he was just about to speak, but she cut him off with her lips.
“What makes you think I did anything, sweetling?” He said pulling her closer and positioning her so she was directly above him.
A part of him knew that this was a strange turn of events, she had gone from grieving to grinding remarkably fast but a hot horny slayer was not something he could ignore.
Buffy wiggled against him watching him for a reaction. He could’t help himself, but he was not one to be outdone. He reached down to where their bodies met and brushed her clit and his mark on her in the same stroke. She didn’t have time to cry out. Her sharp intake of breath was almost comical as she flooded her pants with her juices.
“Ohhhhhhh, Spike—” She breathed as she went boneless against him.
He would have taken her then and there, but he could sense that not all of her shivering came from her need for him. And Spike had no other thoughts other than getting her toward a place where he could ravish her properly.
In a flash he had gathered her in his arms and kicked open the trap door. She latched on his neck and was suckling at him drunkenly.
He didn’t notice anything in his haste to get them onto a surface that was horizontal. They didn’t even make it all the way downstairs. There were a few cramped apartment rooms on the fourth floor, he threw open one of the doors and pressed her against the bare wall. Her arms held above her head. The little minx bit her lower lip and looked up at him from under her lashes and then her arms were around his neck and she was on her tiptoes kissing him soundly. Spike pressed his hands against the wall and ground his rock hard erection against her belly.
“This what you wanted, luv?” He asked roughly.
She grinned devilishly.
“Don’t move your hands.” She said.
Spike’s interests were piqued. It was unlike her to take this much charge of their playtime, he usually took the dominant role, but this reversal was breathtaking. He arched a scarred eyebrow and kept his hands on either side of her head, trapping her in place.
He could feel her hands like hot little flames closing around his cock.
He pressed his forehead against hers and grinned. He had always been a talker in bed, He reveled in the impolite ramble that he was only allowed once he left his Victorian sensibilities behind. He couldn’t keep the words back if he tried.
“Whatever you want, pet.” He said. “You can have me however you want me.”
Her smile was predatory.
“I know.”
She had her back against the wall but managed to make him feel like he was the one in need of the extra support. She kissed him hard, climbing up his body until her legs were anchored around his waist.
“God, All yours, love, take me in.” He said breaking the kiss when he knew she needed to breath. “Please, baby.”
She pressed her hips forward reaching in between them to free his length from his trousers. She locked eyes with him as she sank down slowly, tantalizing him with every inch. She was holding herself just with the strength in her thighs.
Spike was lost. His eyes fell closed and he was concentrating on not moving, not taking her the way he wanted to, he wanted her to take charge. It took all his focus to keep from taking that away from her.
When she pushed him away using the strength in her legs, he almost protested, but he realized, why she was doing it. She threw her head back and started to ride. Using her slayer strength to anchor her to his hips, she bounced on him, he pressed his hands into the plaster desperately trying to remain still.
And then she squeezed her inner muscles and he groaned and reflexively thrust against her.
“Spike!” She cried out.
And Spike was undone, His control snapped and he was lost in the haze of the woman his demon considered its mate. His hips churned desperately. His hands were still pressed to the plaster where they had created two cracked, shallow depressions where his palms made contact.
“Let me touch you, I want to hold you, darling.” He murmured urgently into her hair.
She managed a smile between shallow breaths. She shook her head.
"Keep them there."
This was maddening. All he wanted to do was hold her to him, position her so he could hit the spot he knew she was looking for. There was a strangled whining noise that he realized belatedly was coming from him.
“No.”
“Please pet,” he begged. With her, he was accustomed to being the dominant partner in bed, but he was not above begging, especially when it could be so good. “let me touch you.”
“No.”
“Please, sweetheart.”
“No.”
Determined, Spike tried another tactic. He angled his hips so he would brush her clit with every bounce. Buffy cried out when she realized what he was doing, her movements became more erratic as she fought for control. Sensing the shift, Spike began to meet her hips, angling his thrust to just stop short of the spot where he knew she wanted him most.
“Buffy—”
“Yes!”
Spike continued his bruising pace, one of his hands flew down to her inner-thigh stroking his mark. Buffy’s eyes shot open and she arched into him, coming hard and keening his name. Spike gritted his teeth forcing himself to keep himself together as she thrashed apart around him. Her words were coming out in a barely intelligible babble.
He could make it so good, so good for her. If he could just hold on a little bit longer, he could make it so she couldn’t stand up tomorrow morning.
“M’ drownin’ in you, Summers!” He growled against her ear.
“Spike,” She whimpered between waves of her shuddering climax. She bucked and thrashed against him. “Spike, take,” She turned her head exposing her neck.
Spike locked eyes with her, he told himself she didn’t know what she was offering. She didn’t know what a mark on her neck would mean, she didn’t understand the implications of blood sharing, she had never been told.
He would give her anything she wanted—maybe not this. Not until she understood.
He added a twist to his hips that made his pubic bone bash her clit with every thrust pushing her over the crest of another orgasm.
“Spike!” She gasped. “Need!”
She was giving herself over to him completely—tilting her head to the side and offering her neck. Her trust in him was staggering.
Spike was an animal of pure instinct; he was seeing stars thrusting into her with abandon. He laved the mark Dracula had left and bit down hard with human teeth. He knew it was deep enough to draw a bit of blood. Buffy’s scream of completion corresponded trigger his own frantic release. Buffy’s hands twined around his head, there was minute trickle of blood that Spike staunched easily. They collapsed onto a heap onto the uneven hardwood floor.
*****
All of Buffy’s senses were in overload. She was spasming wildly on Spike’s massive cock was still thrust so far inside her that it was pressed against a knot of nerves that made her scream. And then his sotto voice rasped in her ear.
“I’m drowning in you. Summers.”
“Please, Spike!” She panted she didn’t know when she had become so wanton, but he drew it out of her. Made her desperate for him, desperate for the feel of his cock thrusting inside her and his powerful hands making her scream, but also, oddly desperate to give him this, offer her lifeblood. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but she heeded it. “Take!”
She was delirious, her hips churning mindlessly as she climbed to her peak.
And then his teeth on her neck and she came, again her previous orgasms propelling her to crest so hard she was unsure she could keep everything that was her together.
Everything that was her felt like it was being stretched, pulled taut, and then it snapped and she shattered.
“Spike!” Buffy moaned as he slowed to a stop inside her. His human mask was still in place.
He captured her lips in a deep kiss. One hand sliding up into her hair and the other stroked the mark he had left on her. It felt at the same time like she was coming home and shooting through the universe at light speed.
The mark he left on her ached, but when she looked down it looked more like a massive hickey than a vampire bite. Spike was studying her, looking apprehensive, they were a tangled mass of limbs, but Buffy was too drained to get up and even attempt to get dressed.
“Mm, I said you could—” embarrassed she looked down, unable to say the words. “you know.”
Spike smiled and kissed her soundly. The kind of kiss that made her mouth tingle and her knees weak, despite how sated she was she felt herself responding, Spike reached down and began to lightly stroke his mark. She couldn’t help it; she shuddered and arched into him, wet and wanting once again.
He dipped his fingers inside her, playing her like an instrument. Buffy arched and moaned. He took that opportunity to cover her mouth with his again.
She wondered, how Spike could make her feel like this, like he was everywhere she needed him at once, he could almost anticipate what she would want next. There was no way she could come again, and Spike lowered his mouth to the human bite he made on her neck and nibbled on it.
It was too much for Buffy, she couldn’t scream. She arched and came so hard she blacked out.
When she came to she was in bed, in their room, tangled in the covers. She pushed herself up, blinked and tried to shake the disorientation from her head. It was still night, she hadn’t been out more than ten minutes.
Spike was sitting across the room, dressed only in a pair of jeans and reading a book.
Buffy took a moment to study him; he was a good looking specimen, well made and chiseled out of alabaster. She could see the blue of his eyes from where she was sitting.
God, he was edible.
His eyes flicked up to her and he grinned. Buffy stretched and tried to stifle her frown.
“Hungry.” She said petulantly.
“Morning, pouty.” He said standing and sauntering over. “Gonna get it.”
He leaned down and captured her once again. Another earth moving kiss. Since when was Spike such a freaking good kisser? She sprang up into his arms and wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the evady.” She scolded when he finally let her come up for air. “I wrote the freaking evad-y handbook, amateur.”
Spike frowned. Buffy smiled slyly and pressed a finger to his lips.
"Words later." She said. “Food first.”
*****
Hi all, happy fun chapter. We will return to plot this weekend. I promise. I know I've been bad about posting. But that ends now. I promise! Let me know what you think!
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