~*~
When Buffy woke up, sunlight was streaming through the windows.
Since that wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, she just smiled and rolled over…
Right into Spike’s arms.
Her eyes flew open, finally registering that she wasn’t in Spike’s room, and that the soft warm object at her back was too big and human to be Mr. Gordo.
Well, okay. Mostly soft. Because part of him was admittedly kinda hard.
She smiled in what she was pretty sure was a super-gooey, entirely girlish way. Funny how she didn’t really care, not when he was clutching her to him like she was the only thing in the whole world that mattered. Not when he really was the only thing in the world that mattered to her.
He looked so peaceful, she mused as she stared at him. His face was relaxed, not defensive or snarky in the least. Not that she didn’t like snarky Spike, ‘cause that was sexy in a big way—but right now he looked just about as peaceful as he’d ever looked.
Well, except for right after they’d…Buffy’s face turned bright red, something that she immediately scoffed at. You’d think that after doing the nasty with her boyfriend, just thinking about it wouldn’t embarrass her.
“Buffy…” Spike murmured, smacking his lips. “So soft…”
Her face turned even redder.
Okay. Apparently not.
He rolled over, letting go of her. She used the opportunity to stretch and let her eyes wander around his room.
Her eyes fell on a small manila envelope from their school that was lying on his night table. She picked it up curiously and pulled out the piece of paper inside.
~*~
“I can’t believe you!”
A screeching female voice intruded on Spike’s rather pleasant dreams. He scrunched his brow in confusion. Had he gotten drunk last night? He could’ve sworn he’d gone to the Halloween dance with Buffy—
Buffy on top of him, under him, around him, her breasts heaving, her skin sweat-slicked...
Spike sat bolt upright, dread shooting through him. It was Buffy he’d finally fallen asleep with the night before, Buffy who he was waking up with. Buffy who was yelling at him.
Not exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for…with his eyes still closed, he groaned.
“Spike?” Now her sweet voice sounded more curious than irate.
He popped open an eye. “Mornin’, kitten,” he said groggily. “Judging by your hollerin’, ‘m guessing you’d like to talk?” He kept his voice neutral, trying not to betray how nervous he was.
She waved a piece of paper in front of him that he vaguely recognized as his report card. “You’re a friggin’ genius!” she explained in an accusatory voice.
He snatched the piece of paper from her. Oh, right—last year’s final report. Sodding hell. He was a prat, leavin’ it out like that. “Hey—lemme see that.” He snatched it out of her hand, easily ignoring her screeching (and trying a bit harder to ignore the bouncing of her breasts, along with what it was doing to him), and scanned it.
English, 99. AP Biology , 98. Oh, bloody hell. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he began, feeling the need to explain away his grades. Except that it is. There goes my rep…
“Um, it looks like you’re smart,” she said, still staring at him—but there was a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her cute little lips that hadn’t been there before.
“Wait—you’re not mad?” Spike said, suddenly confused. She’d sounded pretty brassed when she woke him up…
Her answer came in the form of her jumping on him and kissing him until they were both breathless. “Are you kidding?” she asked when they finally parted. “It’s totally hot.”
He smiled at her. God, she was an angel. So beautiful, so sweet, so pristine—
Well, not all that pristine. Not anymore.
He let a smirk overtake his face as memories of the night before flooded his brain. Her exquisite body…how incredibly gorgeous she’d been, even as he—
For the second time in ten minutes, Spike’s brain came to a complete and utter halt. Fucking, buggering shit!
Buffy squinted at him, her face scrunched up in confusion again. “What’s the matter? I though I told you, I’m not—“
“Condom,” Spike blurted out, barely restraining full-out panic. He loved her, yeah, but he wasn’t ready to have a kid! “We didn’t use a condom! We—three sodding times—without—“ He trailed off, sputtering incoherently. Buffy had frozen, too. Shit! She’d been a bloody virgin—what were the chances of her being on the pill? Especially given that she looked almost as scared as he did?
His girl took a deep breath. He knew her well enough to see that her mind was racing—and despite the Valley Girl attitude she sometimes still took on, when her mind raced, it raced.
So the words that popped out of her mouth shocked him. “Don’t have a fit,” she said in an almost calm voice. “I’m on the pill.”
His eyes were buggin’ out of his head. He could feel them. “You are?”
Now she rolled her eyes. “Duh. My parents think I’m this evil ho-bag, remember?” The words were harsh, but the tone she said them in was shakily playful. Spike rose to the challenge.
“That so?” He moved a bit closer, trailing a finger down her arm. “S’pose that makes sense.”
She made to bat his arm away. “Hey! You’re not supposed to agree, you—“
He caught her arm easily, caressing her inner wrist and smiling when she shivered. God, she was perfect.
“Did I mention,” he drawled, deliberately roughening his already lower-class accent, “That I ‘appen t’ like that li’l trait of yours?”
She grinned at him. “Really?” She sidled closer, till her breasts were brushing against his chest. Now he was the one gulping. “So if I decided to reform…” she trailed off, staring at his lips.
He focused on hers as his hands came round to cup her bottom and pull her closer. “Never,” he ordered in a rough voice.
“So…I can be a ho-bag with whoever I want?” Her voice was mischievous; she had to know the question would make him angry.
It infuriated him—not at her, but at the thought that any other ponce would dare touch what was his, and more importantly, what he loved.
He let out a small growl, grabbing her and kissing her roughly, urgently. She responded immediately; she seemed to be happy that she’d driven him to it. Spike suddenly realized that that had been her objective the whole time. Making him jealous only increased her fervor. Little minx, he thought, smiling into the kiss.
They parted a moment later. “God, I love you,” he said quietly, staring into her eyes.
“Love you, too,” she said, just as softly. For a moment, the teasing light faded from both their faces, and they stared at one another somberly, both in wonder at the words falling from the others’ lips.
Then, as usual, his girl decided to lighten—or at least change—the mood. Grinning, she trailed a finger down his chest, stopping just at his waistline.
His long, throaty groan made the familiar smile curve her lips. “Wanna show me how much?” she asked, sliding her hand up and down a few times.
They were in bed for hours after that.
~*~
It was almost one in the afternoon before they finally decided to get up. Buffy was feeling more than a little apprehensive about going home and would have stayed longer, but Spike wisely pointed out that his parents would throw an absolute fit if they found their son naked in bed with a girl, “No matter how pretty the chit in question is,” he’d added with the characteristic smirk.
She sighed as she prepared to enter her house. She’d opted to walk home; she didn’t really feel like finding out what would happen if her parents saw her get out of a boy’s car when she’d been gone the entire night before. Especially since she’d only been friends—or more than friends, but whatever—with said boy for a few weeks.
Granted, she felt closer to Spike than she’d ever felt to anyone else—but she knew that she wouldn’t have an easy time explaining that to her parents. As it was, she might have trouble convincing them that she’d spent the night at Willow’s.
When she reached her house, though, she discovered that she hadn’t needed to worry. Her parents were fighting again, and not just a yelling match, either. When Buffy neared the door, she heard the distinct sound of glass shattering.
Her good mood, which had already been deflating, disappeared. Wonderful, she thought disgustedly, slipping in and starting up the stairs. Wonder how long they’ve been going at it? Poor Dawnie probably didn’t get a wink of sleep.
“But I love you, Hank!” Joyce was sobbing. “You know that! I just can’t stand by and watch as you hurt our oldest daughter!”
“Our oldest daughter is a little slut!” Hank yelled back. “And I’m starting to think you are, too! Who the hell gave you permission to file for divorce papers?”
“Permission?!” In a second, Joyce went from weepy to furious. “What is this, the middle ages? If I want to file for divorce, I damn well will!” Her voice weakened. “And I don’t want to, Hank…I love you so much…but God, I can’t just let you hurt Buffy like that…I can’t…” Once again, her voice degenerated into sobs.
Buffy listened closely for Hank’s reaction. Fights like this one always scared her—when she was little, she’d been terrified that one or both of them would lose control completely and start fighting physically. Fortunately that hadn’t happened yet, but Buffy could tell that this fight had been going on for a long time, and it was worse than any of the others she’d overheard.
She didn’t hear any more yelling, though. Maybe her dad had started crying, too. Serves the bastard right, she thought savagely as she slipped into her room.
She stared around at the walls with a sense of relief. They’d been her haven for three years; now was no different.
She lay down on her bed, all euphoric Spike thoughts forgotten. I love you. That was what she’d told Spike many times last night…what he’d told her…and she’d thought they were the best words in the world. But how could they be when her mother said them to her father even as she insisted on a divorce?
If she didn’t love him, she wouldn’t be so sad. Well, duh. She wasn’t exactly a stranger to the whole Love Is Pain concept. But she was with Anya when it came to bemoaning tragic love: “Oh, cry me a river. It’s the orgasms that matter, anyway.”
Okay, so she didn’t completely agree with Anya. But the “cry me a river” part she totally agreed with. She just didn’t do the angst thing.
So…why was she suddenly feeling incredibly unsure about Spike? She should have been really happy that they’d exchanged vows of love and everything, but instead her mother’s sobbing kept intruding.
She loves him, and now she’s paying.
The image of Spike’s expression when he’d remembered protection—or lack thereof—floated into her head. He’d definitely enjoyed the sex part, but having a baby seemed to freak him out beyond measure. Which made sense, since it freaked her out, too, but…
They should’ve thought about it. If they were both so damn ready, then they should’ve remembered protection. Her being on the pill was just a lucky thing. Even if she hadn’t been, Buffy was pretty sure she wouldn’t have remembered it until the deed had been done.
And that really bugged her. She wasn’t sure why, but it bugged her.
I love you, Hank. Was that what her love for Spike would lead to? Sobbing over him because even though he was a complete jerk, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him?
No. Spike would never do that. He’d never hurt me like that…
would he?
What if they really hadn’t been protected? Would Spike accept the baby, or would he reject it? She wanted to think he’d help her raise it—but the panic she remembered suggested otherwise.
What if our love destroys us like it did Mom?
She’d thought she was willing to take the risk. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of most of this stuff before. But now, face-to-face with the not so great results of love, she wasn’t sure. Was Spike worth the pain she saw her mother going through?
Suddenly, the muffled crying she’d heard became screams again. Another dish shattered—probably her mother, throwing a glass. She did that a lot when she was upset.
Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking through and running down to stain the side of her face. She could remember the adoration in Spike’s eyes…but she could also remember devastation in her mother’s.
I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, William—but I can’t. Tears streaming down her face, she grabbed her phone and dialed the now-familiar number.
“Spike? Yeah…I’m fine…uh-huh…no, not now. I need to—I need to talk to you. Can you meet me at the cemetery in twenty minutes? Oh, right…the one the Mayor dedicated last year. With all the Sunnydale High alumni in it? Yeah, near the school…okay. See you.”
“Buffy?”
His tone stopped her from hanging up. She clutched it tighter, knowing what was coming. “Yeah?”
“I love you, kitten.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as more tears entered her eyes. She fought a sob—there would be plenty of time for crying later. “I love you too.” She set the phone down before he could say anything else. Before she could break down or start begging for his forgiveness.
As soon as the phone touched its cradle, she did both. Her hands came up to cover her face as sobs wracked her body. Please forgive me, Spike. I have to. I’m not strong enough. Please forgive me.
But she knew that when the time came, he wouldn’t. And that was fair, because she also knew that she wouldn’t forgive herself.
~*~
A/N: So, just out of curiosity…how much do you hate me? ;)
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: I'm back! Thanks for the brilliant reviews reassuring me that I don’t suck =D And thanks also for the reviews that pointed out the lack of a condom—I left it out on purpose, and you’ll probably understand why after this chap.