Each time that one loves is the only time that one has ever loved ~ Oscar Wilde
When Buffy Summers cut loose, she cut loose. And here Spike thought she’d be some kind of stick in the mud; which was ridiculous considering he had been out with her before and knew how much fun she could be.
With a few in her, she was a riot. She was loud and at her witty best. She was also quite outgoing and laughed easily. He didn’t want her drunk necessarily, just loose. Loose enough to have a good time and still be able to have a conversation with him. That seemed to be her goal as well since she’d slowed down after the first couple drinks. The girl, he realized, was a lightweight.
“So, how do you feel about everything?” Buffy asked as she sipped her frozen strawberry margarita and studied him closely.
Grinning, he took a swig of beer. “I feel great.”
“Like a new man?”
“Not quite there yet, but close. Feel like maybe some of that darkness in my picture is somewhat fading.”
“Ah, the reverse of Dorian Gray?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re so smart, Spike,” she blurted out. Her eyes grew wide, as if she couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. As if it was a bad thing.
He chuckled, “Thanks, so are you pet. Why do you look as if you shouldn’t have said that?”
“It just flew out.” She set her drink down. “Gotta slow down.”
“Telling me I’m smart is not a bad thing, you know.”
“I know, I just . . . I just – “
“Have other things rolling around in your mind that you’re afraid you might share?”
She nodded profusely.
“Why? Because they might get you in trouble if you say them?”
She nodded again.
“Like how you want my tight, hot body.”
She started to nod and then abruptly stopped. She glared at him. “Sneaky.”
He laughed, “Come on, say it. I’ll tell you how much I want you first if it’d make you feel better.”
“No! That most certainly would not make me feel better!” she exclaimed, indignant.
“Why not? Don’t you want to know how desired you are?”
“It’s easy to desire a body, Spike,” she drawled.
“I don’t just desire your body, Buffy, and you know it, “ he said sternly.
“Can we talk about something else, please?”
He sighed, “Why? Don’t you think we have to talk about this at some point?”
“Yes, at some point. That point not being now.”
“Would you instead like to dance? Maybe grind up against my hot, tight body?” he asked innocently.
That earned him another glare and a blush. God, she was adorable.
“Maybe I’ll find someone else to grind up against Smarty Pants,” she said indignantly, and spun towards the dance floor.
Grabbing her arm with quick, catlike reflexes, he brought her flush up against him, delighting in the gasp that came out of her mouth coupled with the look of shock and lust.
Grinning devilishly, he tucked some hair behind her ear slowly and met her eyes with his own, his gaze never wavering. “There will be no grinding with anyone but me,” he told her.
She quirked a brow. “Does the same go for you?”
He nodded, “The same goes for me.”
“Until....unless....?”
He shook his head, “No until, and no unless.”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t trust you,” she told him bluntly.
“I know you don’t. Not completely anyway. I never gave you any reason to trust me.”
“I did, before. Before . . .” she trailed off, averting her eyes.
“Before I lied. Before I promised that it would just be us and I snuck someone in. I get that. I understand it.”
“And the words, Spike, the pretty words. I don’t believe them. How can I? You’ve used them on everyone else.”
“The meaning behind them though—“
“When you tell me you love me, it . . . God, I don’t want to hurt you and tonight was not about this –“
“Tell me.”
She took a deep breath and he braced himself for the impact of her words. She was right, tonight wasn’t about this, wasn’t about heavy conversations, and hashing out the relationship he wanted to have so desperately with her, and it wasn’t so much wanted, he needed it. He needed her, quite simply.
His gaze stayed intent on her. She needed to know that he was there, rock solid, and would take what she gave him, what he deserved. He wasn’t going to bail when the going got too tough, nope, he was a changing man, a work-in-progress so to speak, and this was where he kept his feet planted firmly on the ground and took what was given to him.
“When you tell me you love me, I don’t believe you,” she blurted out.
That hurt; it did. He swallowed and nodded slowly, “Okay. Why?”
“What do you mean why? You know why. How many women have you said it to and never meant it? How many women have you said it to, to get what you want out of them?”
“Buffy—“
“And I don’t want to be like them, Spike. I can’t. This...” she gestured between them. “It can’t happen.”
“Do you love me, Buffy?”
She froze. “What?”
“Do you love me? Are you in love with me?”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with anything.“
“It has everything to do with everything.”
“No,” she shook her head emphatically.
“No, you won’t tell me, or no you don’t love me?”
“Spike—“
“You’re a shitty liar, you know that? Works out well for me though. Do you realize you can never lie so you avoid saying anything altogether?”
“Do you realize how incredibly persistent you are?” she threw back.
He laughed, “Yeah, I do. Especially when it comes to something I want as badly as I want you.”
“That’s just it. You want me. For what? Because you feel gratitude. Gratitude is not love.”
“What do I feel gratitude toward you for exactly?” he asked dryly.
“For being here and supporting you through all that you’ve been going through.”
He released her, “And half of that wouldn’t have been happening had you not kicked me in the nuts repeatedly since you got here.”
Her eyes widened and her hands balled into fists. “Oh, so what? Now you blame me for the changes? Were you really so happy with the way your life was going before that?”
He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. He shook his head, “No, I wasn’t. I’m sorry. I just felt something there and I lashed out.”
“What were you feeling?” she asked, curiously.
“Hurt,” he admitted. “And you don’t know what it took for me to just admit that to you. I don’t. . . I don’t show my feelings well, my true feelings. Especially when I’m hurt. But there it is. You rejecting me—“
“I’m not rejecting you—“
“You rejecting me hurts. It doesn’t matter when some bimbo that I’m looking -- was-- looking to get laid from rejects me.”
“Does that ever happen?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching into a sardonic grin.
He smiled, “Yeah, it happens.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “But when you reject me Buffy, it hurts. Cuts right to the heart of me. It’s solely you.”
“I’m not rejecting you, Spike. I’m . . . I’m being selfish, okay? I’m looking out for me. I told you already, I’m looking out for my heart and I’m sorry if yours is being caught in the crossfire of that—“
“Well, since you don’t believe I actually have a heart, then it shouldn’t matter.”
“Don’t,” she told him firmly, “Don’t think you can guilt me into admitting or doing anything –“
“I’m not trying to, I’m sorry I just –“
“Argh! Can we stop? We’re going round in circles. I say something that hurts, you retaliate and we’re not really getting anywhere are we?”
He raked a hand through his hair and nodded resolutely, “Yeah, you’re right, we’re not. Listen, can you do something for me?”
Sighing heavily, she eyed him suspiciously. “Depends on what it is.”
“I’m not going to ask you for a chance, not going to ask you for a crumb of a chance. I know it’s too soon and you’re afraid and mistrustful of me right now—“
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she blurted out defiantly, narrowing her eyes at him. He should have known she’d respond to a challenge like that. Never throw the gauntlet down to Buffy Summers if you’re not prepared for the fight of your life. And, he knew he could probably use that challenge to get her over to him, but he wouldn’t do that. She’d figure it out anyway. No, he was going to try honesty for once.
“I want you to think about giving me a chance. Just think about the possibility of us, that’s it.”
She narrowed her eyes, “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“You just want me to think about it?”
He nodded, “That’s all.”
“And what if I decide that I’m too afra—that I don’t want to?”
He ignored the Freudian slip and continued, “Then we’ll – or I will cross that bridge when I get to it.” Meaning, the big guns will be taken out, he thought to himself.
“Until then, no pressure?”
“None.”
“Promise?”
“Do you want to pinky swear on it or something?”
“I was thinking of having you sign your name in blood.”
He laughed, “As a changed man, and on . . . Sam’s life, I swear,” he said and held up his right hand.
“Not Alicia’s, huh?”
“I just don’t feel comfortable doing that. Like I’m sending her into the lion’s den to be slaughtered, you know?”
“But Sam doesn’t bother you so much?” Buffy giggled.
“Well, I do care, I mean, she is the mother of my child so there is a certain respect there.”
“This just got too complicated. See what happens when you break your promises?”
“I take full responsibility for it.”
“You have no choice but to,” Buffy laughed. “Come on, let’s go dance. Enough with the heavy.”
He grinned, “See, you do want my tight hot body.”
“Spike!”
“Hey now, I never said anything about not flirting shamelessly now did I?”
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