Chapter 17: ‘Beach Interlude’
After all of the drama of the past two days, Buffy just had to get out of her own house. Just get in her car and drive somewhere. So, now, after changing into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, she grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and shoved them in her purse.
The Camaro purred all the way out to the shoreline of the Pacific. If she remembered right, there was a neat little hamburger stand just off the highway, a little north of the pier.
“Yup,” she giggled, “there it is.” She bought a huge hamburger, all the fixings and some fries, but no soda of any kind. The beer was still cold in her purse and she drove further up the coast to a place she recalled from childhood. Daddy used to bring her and her mom here during the summer. It was off the beaten track of the state beaches and near to some cliffs; there were tide pools close by. At least, there used to be.
Buffy pulled the Camaro over to the side of highway; grabbed the food and purse and scurried over the highway to the other side. It was almost sunset by now, the sky was a rainbow of pinks, blues and purples as the sun began it’s descent into the Pacific.
She pulled off her sandals and let her feet mush into the fine sand of the shore. The sand squeezed up between her red painted toes, still warm from the afternoon heat. It felt wonderful.
She had brought a beach towel, she always kept a clean one in the car and dropped it on the beach, close to the water. There was no one else in sight; she supposed because it was still fairly early in the season and the teens that inhabited the night hadn’t started coming out just yet. Or maybe it was because this particular place always seemed isolated and lonely. That’s why, even years earlier she had loved it so.
The hamburger was good, but hard to finish, especially since her tummy was pretty upset from all of the melodrama earlier in the day. Although she couldn’t finish her supper, she popped open a beer and half downed it in one or two gulps.
“Mmmmm,” she sighed as she half lay, half sat up on her elbows on the gaudy beach towel. The beer was cold and numbing, just the medicine she needed. It didn’t however, keep the vision of Xander’s brown eyes, showing his tears, his hurt, yes even ‘her’ betrayal.
“I’m sorry Xander,” she murmered as she watched the sun fall closer to the water, “I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. You deserved better treatment, especially from me. Please forgive me,” she whispered to the air.
Buffy took another swig from the bottle, momentarily forgetting what a lightweight she truly was when it came to alcohol. Whether it was the single beer, a figment of her imagination or really ‘nature’ at play, Buffy sat up abruptly when she spied some movement out a ways in the water.
“Dophins!” she cried enthusiastically, forgetting Xander, and everything else instantly.
“Freakin’ Dolphins!” There they were! Leaping out of the water, chasing each other in the waves.
She jumped up and practically danced around watching the display from the clowns of the sea. It looked like at least fifteen or so of the darling creatures frolicking about in the water and Buffy found herself weeping from the excitement of it. She hadn’t seen Dolphins since daddy had taken them to Sea World in San Diego, ages ago; those Dolphins were in tanks, these were free and wild.
“Damn!” she exclaimed with regret, “wish I had a camera!” The Dolphins were beautiful, gray, white and sleek. They leapt higher each time they came out of the water, and she swore she could hear their laughter from where she stood. However, it was only moments before they frolicked their way off down south and out of sight.
Buffy suddenly felt very sad and alone on the desolate beach and decided maybe it was time to go home. To what, she wasn’t sure, but she knew she needed to just get home.
“Maybe Maggie and/or Jenny will come home tonight,” she brightened up, “we can play gin or some other card game! Maybe watch some TV together!”
She began to collect her trash and things, but caught sight of a large pink cloud in the sky. It was just huge, fluffy and the color of cotton candy.
“Wow!” she cried happily, “that’s beautiful!” While she was watching the cloud saunter off south, after the Dolphins, she felt a chill and a series of tingles shoot up and down her arms.
“You sure are, Princess,” came William’s voice from behind her.
“Ohhh,” she groaned with a whine and roll of her eyes, “now my evening ‘is truly’ complete.”
Buffy spun around to confirm her worst fears, William had followed her to the beach! Before he could utter a word, she went on the offensive, “what the hell are you doing here!” she cried, throwing him a look to kill.
“Jesus, Princess,” he chuckled as he stepped nearer to her, “calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Just came to make sure my girl was okay.”
She backed away from him to avoid his outstretched arms.
“I’m not your girl,” she said, bitterly, “I’m just your whore, remember?”
William’s jovial expression suddenly changed into a clenched jaw, his eyes became dangerous looking slits of golden fire.
“You,” he began in that deadly ‘stern Spike’ voice of his, “are not my whore. You,” he continued as he closed the distance, once again, between them, “are my lover, now.”
When he’d closed the distance between them, he pulled her body flush up against his own and tried, unsuccessfully to kiss her.
The little bitch actually pushed him away, again. Spike couldn’t believe it; she was rebuking, him, after everything that they’d talked about and done just two days earlier.
By the time he had pulled himself together, somewhat, Buffy was storming off in a huff down the beach towards her car. He stalked off after her, breaking into a run after she did. About twenty yards later, he literally tackled her to the ground and almost rolled them both into the cold, foamy water.
“Let me go,” she cried, pummeling his chest with her tiny fists. She was on top of him at first, but when he flipped her over onto her back and pinned her down, she gave up the struggle.
“Go away,” she sobbed softly, “I don’t want you here, William. I really can’t stand you right now so, please just leave me alone.”
She choked out the last part of the sentence while hot tears poured down her warm cheeks.
“No,” he stated, a mulish expression on his face, “not going anywhere.” Spike had followed her, but just to be sure she was okay and, ‘bloody hell; she was his girl!’
Buffy’s tears and rejection of him cut deeper then he cared to admit or show, so he covered his hurt with his patent defensive anger.
“What the fuck was Xander Harris doing at your house today?”
She looked at him as if he were a monster, insane or a bit of both, her face a mix of shock and anger.
“You’re still stalking me?” she asked, stunned.
“Never mind that,” he ordered, sternly, “just answer my question; what was Harris doing at your house today?”
A strong wave of jealousy washed over Spike as he thought, ‘if she gave him a goodbye shag or even a kiss, I swear to God I’ll hunt him down and rip his fucking throat out!’
“Answer me, Buffy,” he commanded, his eyes bore into her like lazers, no way was he going to let her out of this one.
“You, you told me to end it with them,” she stammered with a slight tremble, “that’s what I did. Xander, I had to see him, face-to-face, to say goodbye. You told me to. I did it.”
He noticed her voice sounded frightened, almost childish and he felt ashamed of himself for scaring her. He wanted to console her for some reason, but his baser nature again got the best of him and he continued his merciless interrogation.
Buffy watched Spike and knew he was ‘trying’ to reign in a jealous rage, but failing miserably. It would have been almost funny, if she hadn’t been so damned pissed at him. This ‘bastard’ had no business following her around like a damn bomb sniffing dog and that was exactly what he was doing.
He disengaged his arms from her, sat up and dug into his jacket for a cigarette, she assumed. Yes, he brought out a smoke and lit it, his hand shaking ever so slightly from some left over anger.
‘Why’s he so angry?’ she wondered as she followed suit and sat up slowly, ‘he’s the one told me to break it off with them?’
William never took his eyes off of her, just sat smoking, watching her intently, waiting for a more elaborate answer to his profane question, she presumed.
“You said to break it off, William. Like I said, I did,” she whispered, “I thought you wanted me to……”
He interjected hoarsely, “I wanted you to call him and break it off, not take him home give him a pity fuck, Buffy.”
She glared at him with a murderous look, but it was lost on him. At this time he wasn’t even looking at her, just staring out at the ocean.
“God,” she spat at him, “you really are an insecure bastard, aren’t you?” Now it was his turn to look shocked and betrayed.
“I did not ‘shag, fuck, kiss or even hug’ him goodbye, William,” she hissed, “I just kissed him off, like you said, but, I, I hurt him, Will.” One lone, silent tear betrayed her remorse as it slipped gently down her cheek. She followed his gaze out to the ocean and continued quietly, “I used him and hurt him. He truly cared about me. He cried,” she finished, totally ashamed of herself by now.
If she expected some tenderness or compassion, Buffy was sadly mistaken, instead, William turned on her, his face now burning red with rage, a look of murder in his eyes.
“You know better,” he growled as he grasped her wrists tightly, causing pain to shoot up her arms, "then to ever call me that bloody name!”
If looks could have killed, Buffy would have been dead, she just knew it. But instead of backing down, she raised her voice even louder and repeated the word again.
“Why shouldn’t I call you a bastard Will?” she hissed, smugly, “you really are, aren’t you?”
Spike took a deep breath and forced himself to not physically wipe that smug little expression right off of the bitch’s pretty face. He swallowed, hard, and looked evenly into her now emerald green eyes, “yeah, you’ve got me there, Princess,” he began, so calmly that it surprised even him, “and you’ve behaved like a true fucking whore lately, but you don’t see me calling you that, do you?”
He finished with a harsh mutter, but did not let loose of her wrists; just smirked at her evilly and this knocked the wind out of her sails a minute or two. Buffy looked away from him, red faced, the fresh tears began to silently fall down her face. She could only nod slightly, at first, but she finally found her voice.
“You’re right,” she whispered sadly, “you can’t help what happened between your mom and dad, wasn’t your fault. But me,” she shook her head and began to sob, “I could control becoming a whore, but I did it anyway.” She began to sob uncontrollably and buried her face into William’s firm chest.
“I’m so sorry, Will,” she choked out between sobs, “sorry I called you that name, I know how it hurts you. And like I said I’m still behaving like a whore, now I’m your whore. All’s I’ll ever be, I think.”
Her crys turned to wails as she literally wrapped herself in Will’s arms and burrowed into him. For his part, she finally noticed between sobs, he was doing his best to shush and comfort her, another big surprise in the last few days; Will could truly be compassionate.
He was mumbling something about her not being a whore, just sad and lonely, even a bit fucked up, but not a whore, especially not a whore to him.
“Buffy, luv,” he cooed as he pulled her chin up to face him, “let’s be honest, here,” he wiped some tears from her face and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Xander, the others,” he said softly, “you may have used them, but the truth is, they all knew you were married. They knew better, too. No one can put all of the blame on just you.”
Spike could feel and see that his comfort was having an affect on her. Buffy was visibly calming down, digesting his words and actually considering them. He was pleased with himself for many reasons. After all of those years, dancing around each other, the games, the bullshit, the harsh and snarky words to each other, Buffy was beginning to really ‘listen’ to him when he tried to be somehow positive with her.
It was hard for both of them, he knew that, to change the way they dealt with each other, but they just had to. This relationship depended on her forming a trust for him, even if it started kind of skewed in that respect. The opposite was true, also, he had to begin to trust her, even if it meant ‘making her’ come to him at first, any way he had to. Spike was confident enough to feel that his plan for Buffy and himself would work, even if it took a lifetime.
“Buffy, sweetheart,” he murmered as he ran his finger down her adorable nose gently, “you should see the color of your eyes!”
He caught himself in a near giggle, but it was funny. Her eyes were the color of a green eyed, pissed off cat that had just been woken up.
“You know,” he chuckled, cuddling her close to him, stroking her hair, “I’ve wondered for years, just what color your eyes really are.”
He swept his left hand over her forehead to lift the bangs from her damp eyes, “finally figured it out.” She half smiled up at him, curiosity getting the best of her, ‘yup, just like a cat,’ he chuckled inwardly.
“They’re the color of the sea, Buffy,” he told her with a quick kiss on her cheek. “You see,” he pointed out to the Pacific, “when you’re even slightly scared, your eyes are greyish or hazel. Like the ocean when a storm’s coming.”
Buffy looked out at the water and then back at him, her right eyebrow cocked up, puzzled. “Yeah,” he went on to explain, this time looking right in her eyes, “when you’re angry, or defensive, they get opaline green, like now. And Buffy,” he finished, huskily, “when you’re cummin’ they’re the color of emeralds.” Spike leaned into her mouth and kissed her lips, tenderly with his.
“Oh, Will. You always have known me best, haven’t you?” she whispered, her voice husky like his. Buffy just didn’t have any response to throw back at Will, he’d completely floored her once again. This guy was such a paradox, always had been, but it still never ceased to amaze her.
She knew, of course, about his poetic leanings. Even in High School, when she had been more privy to William’s inner most feelings and thoughts, she’d known, if no one else did. William Giles kept a journal; one that he ‘used’ to write in. Poetry, his thoughts and such, even some of his drawings were in that journal, ‘at least once’ she thought, with regret. She was pretty sure that ‘Spike’ hadn’t been writing in that journal in a long, long while; that his poetic nature had been dormant for some time.
“Buffy,” he murmered his eyes huge and indigo colored as they bore into her. “Yes, I have always known the real you, even if ‘you’ don’t. Or if no one else does, either,” he added quickly.
She nodded in agreement, “I suppose you’re right,” she finished with some reluctance.
“Buffy,” he mumbled shyly, “will you come home with me, tonight, please?”
Her heart jumped to her throat and once again she had to catch her breath and ponder exactly what she wanted. Part of her really did want to go, knowing it was past foolish, dangerously risky and completely stupid on her part.
The ‘sane’ Buffy decided instanly, however, that it was just not the right time, if it would ever be, for that step.
“I can’t,” she sighed, sincerely sorry, “my staff, they’re supposed to come home tonight. I just can’t, Will, it’s just too, you know, well, not the right thing. Not now, maybe not ever.”
He looked terribly dissapointed, but she noted he was ‘not angry’ with her and she was grateful for that.
William stood up, abruptly, and swooped her up from the sand in his arms. Before she could say a word or ask questions, he strode off with her to some rocks up against a rather large cliff. He sat down with her still in his arms; it always amazed her, how strong he was. Although he was not near as tall as Angel, or some other guys she knew, he was always the strong one, ‘in more ways then one,’ she thought ruefully.
Finally, he stood her on her feet, plopped himself down on the sand in front of a large rock and pulled her down into his lap. She watched in a daze while he unzipped her jeans and slipped them down her thighs, just enough to give him access to his apparent target, the crotch of her panties.
“What are you……” but she couldn’t finish, he stifled her question with another kiss.
“Just making ‘my lover’ feel good, sweetheart,” he purred into her ear. “I just want you to feel good, we don’t have to have sex, just want to make you feel special. Like you are, Princess.”
His words were so soft, gentle and enthralling that Buffy melted into his body. She buried her face into his neck and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. Will was doing some amazing things with his hand and fingers to her, down there and Buffy just allowed herself to concentrate on the wonderful feelings he was envoking in her.
“Like that?” he whispered into her ear, giving it a little nibble.
“Uh huh,” she purred back, her eyes half closed, her lips seperated just slightly. He kissed her mouth, almost chastely and she could feel his lips form a happy grin. Not a Spike smirk, but a real pleased William smile.
“See,” he whispered, huskily peppering her face with those lovely kisses, “I want my lover to cum for me and be happy. Because that’s what you are to me, Buffy. My lover.” His final statement ended anymore conversation about ‘that’ for the night and Buffy let herself float into an orgasm.
When she came, Spike properly pulled up her jeans and zipped them back up for her. Buffy seemed almost in a daze, he thought, secretly pleased with himself.
“Oh,” she whispered again, hazily, “I mean, is that it?” He laughed out loud, “for tonight anyway,” he responded, dropping another kiss on her forehead.
“No!” she cried, “I mean it was great, but I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t make ‘you’ happy, you know?” she asked with a blush.
“You always ‘do it’ for me, Princess,” he chuckled, “even when you don’t ‘do’ anything, okay?” She thought she understood, but she wasn’t sure.
“You mean, like I get you, you know, horny?” she asked shyly, bright red now.
“Yes, like I’m horny, and it’s okay, cos’ I know you’ll ‘take care of me next time. Like I said, I meant it, baby, I just wanted you to be ‘happy’ tonight. It’s enough somehow.”
She nodded, numbly, “okay, Will,” she giggled into his neck. “Thank you, Will,” she added, her little girl tone coming out again, “I do need to get home. Maggie and Jenny will probably be back any time now and I just can’t walk in and face them like this. You know, all ‘happy’ and all with Angel out of town.”
Spike could feel his face darken and his smile turn to a slow frown at the mention of that prick Angel. He changed the subject quickly, “when ‘can’ I see you Buffy?” he asked hopefully.
“I don’t know, Will,” she answered honestly, worrying her bottom lip with her blunt little white teeth. Although Angel’s name hung between them like a cloud, he noticed she didn’t mention ‘him’ again.
“I’ll have to see what I can work out. Is that okay?” she asked, peering at him anxiously and unsure.
All of him wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, “No! That’s not fucking okay. I’ll decide when you ‘can and will see me!’ But he decided to just shut his mouth for once and bide his time on this one. He honestly believed, right at that moment that Buffy would try her best to see him as soon as possible.
A/N: I had to write a scene where Buffy and Spike ‘got together’ without having actual, real down sex. I, unlike some of the ‘Powers That Be’ at ME have always felt and always will feel that Spuffy was much more then just sex. It had the potential to become and did for me, become in Season 7, an epic love affair. Anyway, I hope people are still reading this story. There will be few, if any more, Spuffy scenes without love making (notice I said love making? Buffy may be confused, but I’m not!) Please read and review, thanks. Luv, Spuf
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