“So, she hasn’t thrown up again?” Spike asked.
“No, she hasn’t. She wasn’t that hungry this morning, so I think her belly is still hurting and she’s probably afraid to throw up again.”
“Yeah, she threw up dinner last night.”
“Thanks for that!” Buffy said and laughed.
“So…can I come over?”
Buffy hesitated. The part that wanted him and his company, wanted to say yes. The part of her that was afraid of hearing about ‘late nights’ and possible serious girlfriends, didn’t want him to. But, it wouldn’t be fair of her to keep him from Lindsey just because she felt uncomfortable by it; hurt by it. She’d made that bed, and she apparently hadn’t thought that one through at all.
“Sure,” she agreed, sounding much too chipper, at least to her.
“Kay, be there in a few,” and he hung up.
Buffy sighed. “Well,” she told herself, “I can do some laundry and clean up while he’s with Lindsey. I don’t have to actually spend time with him. Yes, I will keep busy.”
She was down in the laundry room when Spike came over. He called down to her to let her know he was there, and Buffy thought about staying down there all day to avoid him.
She couldn’t though, and eventually made her way up. Walking into the living room, she found Spike next to Lindsey on the couch, talking soothingly to her. On her lap was a stuffed blue bunny with floppy ears, a bunny she’d never seen before.
“Aren’t you a lucky girl?” Buffy said, smiling. “Not everyone gets presents when they’re sick.”
Lindsey smiled. “Daddy loves me. He says I’m his little girl.”
“You are,” Buffy agreed. “Do you need anything, baby?”
“No, I’m okay, Momma.”
Heading towards the kitchen to do the dishes, she looked over her shoulder to see Spike following her.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Some.”
“If you want, I can take over so you can take a nap.”
“You don’t have to do that—“
“Buffy?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up. I am her father and I have taken care of her —“
“I know that, I’m not saying that you aren’t capable—“
“But if you don’t take my offer, I will think you’re saying that,” and he grinned.
“Okay, okay, fine. Let me just do the dishes—“
“I can do that too.”
“Spike, this is not your mess.”
“Go,” he ordered, pointing to the doorway.
“Fine,” she grumbled and headed upstairs. First though, she was going to take a bath. Hey, she might as well take advantage of it, right?
“Buffy, wake up.”
Buffy’s eyes flew open and she found Spike, standing over her, phone in hand. He did not look happy.
She sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“Phone for you,” he said, sounding annoyed. He thrust the phone in her hand.
She took it, almost afraid to learn who was on the other end. Was that what got him so mad? She looked at the clock. Her eyes widened. She’d been sleeping for three hours! Well, that could have been what bothered him. But it wasn’t like he didn’t take care of Lindsey on his own a lot of the time either. . .
“Hello?”
“Hey, Buffy, it’s Doyle. How you doing?”
“Oh, hey Doyle! I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“Well, as it turns out, my only night off is tonight. Can you make it tonight?”
“Umm…” she looked up at Spike who was staring down at her, his eyes cold as steel, his jaw set firmly, and clenching, by the looks of it. “Can I call you back?”
“Sure! Anytime.”
“Okay, thanks.” Clicking the phone off, she crawled out of bed slowly and looked up at Spike. “Sorry I slept so—“
“Who was that?”
“Doyle.”
“Doyle…from?”
“From school.”
“You never mentioned him.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“Last night, when you came home would have been a good time.”
She eyed him. “Why are you so tense?”
“Fucking forget it,” and he stalked off, waving his hands at her in frustration.
“Hey!” she called and ran after him. She caught him just before he went down the stairs. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck is that guy calling you for?” he demanded.
“We have an assignment for class to do, he—“
“You have to do an assignment with him?”
“Yes, we had to pair off—“
“And you had to pair off with a guy?”
“He sat next to me! He was starting back same as me!”
“I’m sure he was,” Spike muttered and jogged down the stairs.
Well, that did it. She was fuming now. She went after him, popped her head in to see Lindsey almost asleep on the couch, and then stalked after Spike into the kitchen. “You know what you are?” she said.
“What? What am I?” Spike said angrily, spinning to her.
“You’re an asshole.”
He looked slightly taken back by that. He pointed at himself, “I’m an asshole?”
“Yes!” she hissed. “There is absolutely no reason for you to get so mad at me about Doyle. He is not anything but a classmate, possibly a friend, and that’s it. And what the hell do you care? You’re dating, you’re seeing girls.”
“Momma, I’m thirsty!”
Glaring at Spike, Buffy stalked off to get her daughter’s sippy cup. After checking up on Lindsey and helping her get more comfortable on the couch, she went back to the kitchen to pour juice and found Spike with his arms crossed, scowling.
“Don’t give me that look,” she told him, pouring the juice in the cup.
“You’re bloody daft, you know that?”
She spun and pointed at herself. “I am?”
“Yes, you are.”
All but hurling the juice back in the fridge, she hastily put the cover back on the sippy cup and went back to her daughter. Helping her take a few sips so she didn’t get it all over her, Buffy placed the cup back on the coffee table and went back into the kitchen.
Spike was putting some dishes in the dishwasher.
“I am not daft. How am I daft?” she demanded.
He spun to face her. “You actually think I want to be dating? You think I enjoy it?”
“You sounded fine with it when you were calling that girl ’babe’ on the phone the other night. You were going to meet her friends! That sounds pretty serious to me!”
“Well, it’s not,” he said, stalking up to her and getting in her face. “And if I didn’t know any better, Buffy, I’d say you were jealous.”
“Hardly! Go have your ‘late nights’. I don’t give a rat’s ass!”
“The late night I had,” he said through clenched teeth, “Was breaking up with the daft bint.”
“Oh great, now I’m in the same class as one of your bimbo’s!” Buffy nearly shouted and stalked back into the living room when Lindsey called for her. Spike was on her heels.
“Momma, I want to go to bed,” Lindsey told her, yawning and stretching.
“Okay, baby, come on, I’ll—“
“I’ll carry you up, okay Princess?” Spike said, the anger he’d displayed a minute before, completely gone.
“Okay, Daddy,” and she held up her arms.
Buffy watched him carry their daughter up the stairs and she wanted to scream at him. Then, the phone rang. Stalking into the kitchen, she picked it up. “Hello?” she nearly barked into the phone.
“Buffy?”
“Doyle?”
“Yeah, hey listen, I don’t think I gave you my cell. I’m going out for a few, so let me get it to you so you can reach me.”
“Okay, sure, let me just get a pen and paper…” Rummaging through the junk drawer at the kitchen counter, she found a paper and a pen inside. “Shoot.”
Doyle rattled off the number and she took it down, seeing that Spike had come back out of the corner of her eye.
“Did you find anything out yet?” Doyle asked.
“Not yet, but I’ll call and let you know.”
“All right. Bye, Buffy.”
“Bye Doyle,” and she clicked off the phone.
How it happened, she did not know, she didn’t even feel her body move, though she did feel the impact of her back against the fridge door, and did see an angry Spike before her. She opened her mouth to yell at him, when his lips slammed down onto hers.
It was a hard kiss, a demanding kiss, and quite possessive. It even hurt a little. And damn if she didn’t love it. Moaning, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her.
He kissed her until breath became an issue and then he was trailing kisses down her neck, his hands just under her t-shirt.
Fuck that, she thought, and started lifting his shirt from his body. She wanted him, wanted this, and by God, she was not going to be denied.
He helped her take it off, and soon, her own shirt went flying. She kissed him this time, fervently, and her hands went to his buckle, undoing it as fast as her hands would go.
He was moving her, she realized dimly, and then she was being lifted. Placing her on the counter, he yanked at her pajama bottoms and tore off her panties. Where his pants had gone, she didn’t know, nor did she care.
And then, he was inside her, filling her up. She clawed at him, and he held her tightly against him while he pumped away.
“Oh God,” she moaned and sucked on his neck.
“Fuck,” he ground out and slid a hand between them to rub her clit.
“Yes…Yes…” she panted, and he panted back, his breath hot in her ear.
“Buffy…Buffy, God, I love you so much.”
“Oh, Spike, I love you too!”
He froze, as in completely stopped. He pulled back slightly, looking at her. “What?”
She gulped. “I . . . I love you.”
He pulled out of her. “Don’t,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes welling up in tears. “Don’t say that to me if you don’t mean it.”
She caught his arm, pulling him back to her. Cupping his face in her hands, she met his eyes, kissed him deeply, and then said with great certainty. “Spike…William...I love you.”