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Chapter Fourteen

Buffy was the first to break the kiss, gasping for air. Spike stared at her, he too left panting. He pressed his forehead against hers.

"How could something wrong feel so right?" he asked reverently.

"Because it's not wrong," she whispered. "I thought it was at first too, but Spike…there's no blood between us. It's not incest. We're step siblings by marriage only. It's different, a little awkward, but not wrong."

He shut his eyes and breathed in her scent, burying his face in her neck.
"How did you become so wise?" he mumbled against her skin.

She let out a short laugh. "I'm not wise. I'm just fumbling through life like everyone else. Occasionally I get something right, but then Doyle likes to take credit for it. He knew, you know."

His head snapped up. "He did?"

"Yep. He's intuitive like that. And not once did he think it was icky or wrong."

He chuckled half-heartedly.

"Spike, those phone calls with Mom – Did you tell her? Does she know?"

He shook his head, "No, she doesn't." He brushed some hair from her face as he spoke. "She knows Dru got really sick and that she was difficult to deal with. When I called and talked to Mum, I didn't tell her the parts about you. I told her everything else that Dru did—the dolls, the days she couldn't get out of bed. I left you out of it Buffy. How could I tell my step mother that I was desperately in love with her daughter?" He kissed her quickly.
"Buffy," he moaned. "I love you so much. I've waited so long to have you in my arms like this. I never thought . . . God, I never thought you'd be here in my arms." He kissed her fervently, desperately. Lustfully. He was filled with unrequited passion for her and even virginal Buffy knew these kisses were filled with the promise of something other than just rejoicing in knowing she reciprocated his feelings. Well, for the most part. . She couldn't blame him for taking that turn so quickly. Six years was a long time to want and not have. To yearn and to think you were wrong for it and that the one you yearned for was off limits; untouchable. However, she also knew that taking that step was not something he was ready for, not even if his body was saying otherwise. She knew she definitely wasn't ready, but if she had been . . . the ramifications of it for him would be difficult. There was no way he could reconcile his mind so quickly after years of being conditioned to think it was dirty. She could not and would not do that to him; to them.

She pushed at him slightly. "Spike, stop."

He looked wounded by her halting him.

"Don't look at me like that," she told him softly. "I'm not . . . I'm not
rejecting you. But I'm also not going to let you do something that you—and
I – will regret later. And, well, I'm not ready for that."

"I'm sorry, I'm pushing."

"You're not pushing, not yet anyway. But those kisses are intense and . . .
Spike, you've told me so much tonight and I haven't been able to process it
all and you're so upset by it all . . . I don't even know where to begin."

"Do you love me Buffy?"

"The way you love me?"

He nodded.

"Not yet."

He looked away from her; hurt.

"No, stop, look at me," she urged, putting her hand under his chin and
gently forcing him to look at her. "Spike, I've only just begun to process my
feelings for you. I haven't been in the same place as you for the past six
years. I think a part of me was there, but . . . not enough to fully realize it. I
know that I am falling for you. I know that I want to help you sort through
what Dru did to you—"

"It's what I did to myself," he murmured.

"No," she shook her head. "She really did a number on you. Brainwashed
you. You've spent so much time feeling guilty and twisted. . . I might not be
the only one that can help you."

He met her eyes, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that with all the stuff that Dru did to you, the way she
tormented your mind and made you feel dirty, maybe you need to see
someone Spike."

"Like a shrink?"

"Yes. Having dealt with what you dealt with—it's got to have done stuff to
you."

"I never considered the possibility. I thought if I went . . . "

"You'd be judged. You thought the answers were black and white. Sister,
brother equals incest. Except, step sister, step brother equals no incest.
Shades of gray, I'll give you, but no longer black and white."

"And those shades of gray?"

She smiled gently and kissed his brow, "One step at a time. One day at a
time. Nothing has to be decided tonight, or even tomorrow."

"You forgive me for Harmony?" he asked softly, averting his eyes.

"Was she a botched experiment to get over. . .? "

"You? Yes."

"After you went on about how sex was special and that I should wait," she
pointed out dryly.

"I was desperate Buffy. Desperation can do things to you."

"Just promise me—"

"I would never Buffy. I'm so close now, don't you see? You're not disgusted
by me . . . "

"You thought that I--? Oh Spike, how could you—Never mind, I know how
you could. Spike, I don't blame you for what happened with Drusilla. I get
it, I understand. I know because I felt wrong too. . . but I know it's not."

He smiled softly and buried his face back in her neck. "You're my angel,"
he murmured, causing her to break out with goosebumps at the feel of his
breath on her skin. She shivered.

"Are you cold, sweetheart? Do you want to go in?" he asked, looking up at
her, concern on his handsome face.

She smiled warmly at him. This was the side Drusilla had gotten to see that
she was only beginning to see. Spike as the lover. The concerned, gentle
lover that wanted to cherish and protect, that wanted to take care of the
one he loved. She could imagine him taking care of Drusilla, being calm with
her and patient with her. Warring with himself while he tried desperately
to do the right thing. How hard it must have been for him to project
compassion and understanding when inside he was being ripped to shreds.
Her heart ached for him. She wrapped her arms around him, and held him
tight.

"Sweetheart?"

"I'm so glad you're home," she whispered, not wanting him to know she
was crying.

"So am I sweetheart, so am I." It was the first time Buffy thought he
meant it.

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

For the first time in years, Spike woke the next morning not feeling burdened by guilt and misery. His heart felt lighter, his mind at more peace than he'd known in what felt like forever.

Buffy had given him the sweetest kiss good night before retreating to her bedroom and he went to bed with a smile on his face. He wanted to bask in her purity and loveliness for the whole night, but knew that was not in the cards yet. They still had things to work through—his demons just lurking beneath the surface and yet quieter now. Then, there was Mum and Dad. But that would have to come later. Buffy was right. He had to find a way to reconcile what he'd thought about loving her and what he'd been told about loving her from Drusilla to now; to feeling it wasn't a dirty, wrong thing.

"Spike, get up! You're going to be late!" Buffy called through the door.
She was such a bossy chit and God, he loved it. She was down the stairs before he could get to the door. Whistling, he pulled on his clothes, brushed his teeth and combed his hair before practically running down the stairs to greet his Golden Girl.

He was about to lunge at her to bring her in for a greedy kiss when he saw Joyce upon entering the kitchen. He nearly halted in his tracks and Buffy shot him a knowing look.

"You all right, Mum?" he asked as he poured himself an orange juice.

"What are you doing home still?"

Joyce let out a sigh. "Oh, I'm being sent to L.A. to help out with the exhibit there this weekend. Your father is coming with me. I'm going to pack and check on things at the gallery before we leave tonight. Will you two be all right here alone?"

Spike nodded calmly, while inside he was doing the Snoopy dance. A weekend alone with his Buffy. Time together without having to hide. Just what they both needed.

"I don't know if we can handle it Mom. You think Gram can come and stay with us? I might be too afraid. Or tempted to have a raging party," Buffy said, deadpan.

Spike chuckled and Joyce shot her a sour look. "Very funny," she said.

"Couldn't resist," Buffy shrugged. "I think we can handle it. I'll make sure Spike eats and showers and gets to bed at a reasonable hour."

Joyce rolled her eyes and left the room.

"You're such a bitch," Spike chuckled.

"I know. I love it," she said and giggled.

"I love it too," he said softly, meeting her eyes. "Well, sometimes," he grinned.

She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, leaving him wanting more, but when he reached for her she said "Mom", and he stopped.

"Have Chinese take out tonight?" she asked as she rinsed her breakfast dish and stacked it in the dishwasher.

"Sounds good, luv."

Creeping across the kitchen, she listened for Joyce and then leaned in and gave him another kiss. "Have a good day, Spike."

"Buffy, I love you," he couldn't help himself from gushing.

She smiled, "I know. Bye for now."

"Miss me?" he said hopefully.

"I always do." And he could tell she meant it.





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