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Title: Make My Day
Rating: U17 (eventually)
Season V
Disclaimer: I’m just playing with Joss’s characters. Don’t sue me, I’m poor!
Distribution: Take it if you want it; just tell me where.
Summary: A sequel to my shorter fic “Someday Soon”. Will probably make a lot more sense if you read that first. It begins immediately after Spike leaves Buffy’s home to get a new shirt. Takes place during Season V, but totally non-canon.


MAKE MY DAY


Anyone observing the vampire’s progress from the Slayer’s home on Revello Drive to his crypt in Restfield Cemetery would have been sure Spike was channeling three different people.

He would go along quietly for a while, a sweet smile on his face, practically humming.

(She let me touch her, let me kiss her, let me touch... she touched me! She defended me to her corn fed boyfriend)

Then he would be reminded that she had shrunk away from him, horrified at herself and denying he was capable of loving her. Soon, he would be in game face, snarling and kicking over signs and tombstones.

(Bloody, fuckin’ Poof! Got her convinced I can’t love without a soul. As soon as she’s well, she’s gonna go rushin’ back to Capt’n Cardboard and she’ll probably deny there was ever anything between us.)

Memories of what she’d be denying – the things she’d allowed him to do to her, the things she’d done to him, soon had him swaggering and smirking as he relived the last couple of hours.

(She sucked my dick! The Slayer put her hot little mouth on me and got me off. And she came for me. Made her scream, I did. Like to see Capt’n Cardboard do that!)

He was so wrapped up in his rapidly changing inner movie, that he almost failed to notice the heartbeats coming from his open crypt. A sudden whiff of an unfamiliar scent had him stopping to sniff the air and listen. He blended back into the shadows to assess what his senses were telling him. As rash and impulsive as Spike could be, he hadn’t survived 126 years as a vampire by being stupid.

He remained hidden in the dark shrubbery, still as only a corpse can be, and waited to see who or what was in his home.

(Well, there’s a surprise) he thought when Riley and two of his friends stepped cautiously out of the door. The commando was holding a wooden stake and his friend had a crossbow.

“Let’s call it a night, Finn,” Graham said wearily. “He’s not here and who knows if he will be. You probably scared him off when you told Buffy you were coming over and he’s halfway to LA by now.”

Spike growled softly at the suggestion that he would run from Buffy at the first sign of danger. He mentally cursed the chip in his head that made it impossible for him to follow his instincts and rip their heads off.

Riley glared around menacingly for several more minutes, then sighed and reluctantly agreed to leave.

“All right. I’ll get him some other time. I’m sure he’s still around. I’ll find him and when I do, I’ll make sure he knows never to come near her again. Assuming he doesn’t take care of the problem himself, “ he added with a glance over his shoulder into the crypt.

“Exactly,” Graham said, slapping Riley on the back. “At a minimum, he’ll get the message; and if you’re lucky.....” The two soldiers moved away and headed for the gate, their voices trailing off as they left.

When the sound of their booted feet was gone, Spike moved slowly toward his home. He got almost to the door and then, deciding he’d rather enter through the sewers, he moved off to drop down the nearest manhole. A quick sprint through the tunnels and he was entering his lower level bedroom and looking around cautiously.

The downstairs seemed undisturbed and he breathed a sigh of relief that they hadn’t discovered the door to that area. He went up the ladder carefully and peeked out into the main room. The first thing that caught his eye was the booby trap set up near his door. A crossbow had been rigged to go off as soon as someone stepped into the thin wire running across the doorway.

He congratulated himself on his astute thinking as he disconnected the trap and added the crossbow to his stash of weapons. He went back downstairs, changed his shirt and headed back to Buffy’s, traveling by way of the sewers just in case they were still out looking for him.

He got back to the house on Revello drive to find a sleeping Slayer curled up on the couch under the blanket. Spike carefully turned off the lights in the house, then sat beside her for a few minutes just watching her sleep. Her lips were slightly parted and her warm breath stirred tendrils of hair hanging in her face. Without thinking, he reached a hand forward and gently moved the hair off her face.

The memory of his promise to leave her alone until they vanquished Glory, warred with the desire that he always felt around her. Now that he’d felt those lips, tasted her essence, touched her skin, his demon was screaming to possess her at the same time that William was mentally composing poems to her.

Somewhat to Spike’s surprise, William won the battle and he was able to sit quietly and watch her sleep without feeling a need to rip off her clothes and make her his completely.

He watched her for a long time, then shook himself out of the pleasant fantasy he was having. Bending down carefully, he gently picked her up, blanket and all, and began carrying her upstairs. He hadn’t got very far when he felt her breathing increase and her heart rate go up.

She raiser her head from its resting place on his chest and breathed, “Spike?”

“You know any other vampires that’d be carrying your useless body around in the middle of the night, Slayer?” he asked with a smile that she heard rather than saw. “And, by the way, pet, lettin’ a vamp watch you sleep and pick you up without waking up? Not a good career move.”

He finished talking without being able to keep the edge of concern out of his voice. Her Slayer senses should have told her there was a vampire in the room and he was worried that they hadn’t.

Buffy was quiet for a few seconds, then she said softly, “I knew it was you. I can always tell.”

He unconsciously pulled her a little tighter against his chest at her quiet confirmation that she was as aware of him as he was of her.

When they reached the second floor and he started to turn toward her room, Buffy blushed and said, “not yet, Spike. I really, really need to pee first. You were gone a long time.”

“Sorry about that, pet. Took a little longer than I expected.”

“Did you run into trouble?” she asked anxiously. “Are there too many demons and vampires out there now?”

“Nothin’ I couldn’t handle, love. And, no, there aren’t anymore than usual. Your watcher and I have been keepin’ them down for you. Don’t worry yourself.”

“Oh.” She looked at him suspiciously, but decided not to press the issue.

Spike carried her into the bathroom, set her down carefully beside the toilet, then backed out the door saying, “Give me a shout when you’re ready, Slayer.”

When Buffy had finished struggling with her sweats so that she could use the toilet, had washed her hands and brushed her teeth, she called Spike’s name softly and he instantly opened the door. She smiled at him and said, “It’ll be nice to sleep in my own bed again for a change. The couch was getting old.”

“Your mom should have called me sooner, pet. No reason why I couldn’t have got you downstairs in the morning and back up here every night.”

As he spoke, he was scooping her up and edging through the door, being careful not to bump her head or her leg on the jamb. He carried her into her room and stood her up while he quickly turned down the bed for her. Buffy hobbled toward the bed and allowed herself to fall onto it, flailing around as she tried to turn over with casts on one arm and one leg.

“You look like a turtle what’s been flipped on its back, Slayer,” Spike chuckled as she squirmed around until she was on her back with her head on the pillow. He pulled the blankets up over her and fought the urge to bend in and kiss her “good night.” His hand lingered for a second as he pulled the covers up to her chin, but he remembered his promise and moved it firmly back to his side before it could get him in trouble.

“Very funny, Spike,” she grumbled to cover up how badly she wanted his hand to remain on her a little longer.

He straightened up and took an unnecessary breath before turning off the light and moving toward the door.

“Good night, Slayer,” he said quietly. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me for anything.”

“Good night, Spike.....and...and...thank you,” she almost whispered, knowing his vampire ears would hear her.

“You’re welcome, Buffy,” he whispered back as he went down the stairs. “You’re welcome, love.”

*************************

The following morning as soon as Buffy started stirring, before she even had time to call for him, Spike was at her door asking if she wanted to get up yet. He helped her sit up, then carried her to the bathroom, repeating the routine of the night before. When she was finished in the bathroom, he took her back into her room and sat her down again while he brushed her hair. As they had before, both of them got lost in the sensual pleasure of the activity. Buffy relaxed as she enjoyed the feeling of gentle brush strokes on her head. Spike was mesmerized by the scent and feel of her silky blond locks and he continued to brush long after her hair was hanging down her back smoothly.

Eventually Buffy’s stomach rumbled and the spell was broken as she blushed and came back to herself. Spike startled and stopped what he was doing to ask her, “Does that mean you’re ready for breakfast, Slayer?”

“I guess it does,” she admitted somewhat embarrassed by her body’s demands.

“Breakfast it is, then,” he said cheerfully as he stood back up and pulled her to her feet. “Ready, Slayer?”

Pulling Buffy to her feet left them standing only a few inches apart, with Spike still holding the hands he used to pull her up. Buffy could feel the heat flooding her face and body as she stood there, swaying slightly and waiting for him to pick her up. She looked away from his penetrating eyes and held herself stiffly. Memories of what happened the last time they stood that close together crowded her mind and sent her pulse rate skyrocketing. She tried to ignore the warm feeling his nearness was creating, and she fought off the shivers that were her body’s reaction to being held in his powerful arms.

(Oh my god. How are we going to do this? How are we going to get through the next couple days when we can’t even stand close together without....)

When Spike felt the stiff and unyielding body he was carrying, he forced himself to hold it as far away from his own as possible. He resisted the urge to bury his nose in her hair; instead walking carefully down the stairs without looking at or speaking to her. When they reached the kitchen, he set her down easily on a stool so that her immobile leg would have room to stretch out and he moved away from her quickly.

He tried to ignore the ache in his chest when she continued to refuse to meet his eyes. The whole time he was fixing her cereal, getting her juice and fruit, she remained sitting stiffly on the stool, only looking at him when she had to. She ate in silence while Spike warmed up his blood and drank it with her. To an outside observer, it would have looked like any young couple having their coffee and cereal together in the morning. But the tension in the room was so thick the air was almost vibrating.

When the uncomfortable meal was over, Spike put the dishes in the sink to wash later and stood up. When he held out his arms, Buffy’s eyes flew to his face in a panic. The vampire bit his lip and growled out, “Sod it all, Slayer. I made you a promise and I’ll bloody well keep it! Stop actin’ like you’re trapped with a serial rapist and relax, will you?”

He picked her up before she could answer him and carried her quickly to the living room. He placed her carefully on the couch and pulled the blanket up around her before he said anything else. When she still couldn’t look at him, he sighed and sat back on his heels in front of her.

“Slayer,” he said quietly. She shot a quick look at him, then her eyes went back down to the floor. “Buffy,” his voice shook slightly, “Look at me, love, please?”

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to look into his and flinched at the hurt she saw in there.

“Buffy,” he began, “I keep my word, love. I promised not to push the issue and I meant it. I’m not going to...to take advantage of you when you’re vulnerable. I would never do anything to hurt you, Buffy. “ His eyes pleaded with her to believe him. “Don’t be afraid of me, pet. Please?”

“I’m...I’m not afraid of you,” she said, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “It’s not you I’m afraid of.”

(It’s me, and the way you make me feel. The things you make me want to do.)

As though he could read her thoughts, Spike relaxed and stood up, regaining his usually cocky demeanor.

“Then I’ll do my best not to be so irresistible, Slayer.” He laughed at her eyeroll as he went back toward the kitchen to clean up the breakfast dishes. Suddenly the tension was gone and they were comfortable with each other again. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching Passions and playing cards, indulging in their usual snarky banter.





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