She would give anything for this to never end. It was such an odd moment—a rarity handed down by the universe—and she knew that once it was over, there would be none like it. Spike was in her bed. He was lying on his side, his head resting against her pillow. And even though he wasn’t touching her, it was surprisingly the most intimate moment of her life.
“You have a comfy bed,” Spike observed, stretching those gorgeous muscles of his and flashing a grin. “Fella could get used to this.”
“I’ve grown rather fond of it.”
“The bed or the fella?”
Buffy blushed and tore her eyes from his. It had been the mother of all strange nights, and Spike wasn’t doing much to clear matters up for her. Earlier, he had shoved her against a mausoleum wall and verbally torn her into pieces. In a matter of minutes, he’d converted her every fear into stark reality—the fears that had convinced her to walk away from him after that amazing night in the crypt. He didn’t want to want her; he resented himself for wanting her. His interest in her didn’t extend past her girl parts, and he’d just as soon snap her neck as get to know the girl who owned those parts.
Spike’s anger—his open loathing for her—had ripped her apart. And she didn’t know why. Granted, they had shared a few magical kisses and she craved his touch like she’d craved no one else’s, but that didn’t change the way things were between them. It didn’t change the circumstances that had brought them together or her confusion over those circumstances. She craved him and she didn’t know why, and every time they were apart, the hurt got a little worse. She’d thought she could fix her problems by erasing Spike’s touch with another’s, but no. Big, big no. Running to Angel had very obviously been a mistake.
Her body ached for Spike. She couldn’t be with anyone else. Furthermore, she didn’t want to be with anyone else. The thought of Angel touching her made her want to hurl—which perhaps explained why she’d actually, well, hurled. She’d gone to her ex-boyfriend as a means to an end. A way to eradicate the effect Spike had on her, which had backfired miserably.
Buffy felt so horribly guilty for kissing Angel, and she knew she shouldn’t. It wasn’t like she hadn’t told Spike each of the four times they’d been together that he needed to leave town and forget about her. They weren’t together. He wasn’t her steady. He wasn’t going to be her prom date. And yet, trying to find intimacy with another man had made her toss her cookies.
It defied logic, but she felt like she had betrayed Spike. Even after what he’d done to her, said to her, she felt that she’d betrayed him. And he was with her now. Spike was in her bed, his eyes warm and kind, if a little conflicted. Whatever had possessed him just a few hours before had evidently moved on, and he’d begged her forgiveness.
None of this made any sense to Buffy, but she’d stopped trying to rationalize her feelings. Being away from Spike made her hurt, and she didn’t want to hurt.
But being with Spike was almost as dangerous, because she was growing to like him too much. She loved the way he talked to her. The way he’d helped her up after she literally walked into a wall. The way his eyes danced when he watched her ramble. The helpless need that seized his body whenever she touched him.
But eventually, this thing they had would wear off. It couldn’t last forever. And when it did wear off, Spike would happily roar out of town and, if she wasn’t careful, take her heart with him. Buffy couldn’t allow that.
Only it was incredibly difficult to remember why she wanted him out of her bed when he looked at her like that.
“You still feelin’ sick, luv?” Spike asked softly, jarring her out of her reverie.
“Oh.” She flushed. “No.”
“So it worked, then?” He grinned, placing a hand on her hip and massaging her gently through the covers. “My healing technique?”
“Incredibly.”
“I’m available whenever you need me,” he offered, his tone insanely hopeful, and his eyes dancing as though he’d just discovered a lost Sex Pistols LP. “Just say the word an’ I’ll heal you right up.”
Yeah. He would. She knew he would. She could snap her fingers and he’d be at her side, his hands and mouth ready to take her to the stars and back. And she’d let him because she needed it—because the longer she was away from him, the more unbearable the pain became. Each tryst would be capped with a promise to herself to not slip up again and an ultimatum to Spike, who wouldn’t listen. Who would pop up to say something sexy and wonderful and she’d cave.
She’d cave until he owned more than her body, and then he’d leave. He’d remember who he was. He’d remember that he hated her. And he’d remember that there were women out there with much more talent in the bedroom, and much more to offer a man who wanted full service.
Her musings must have been plastered all over her face. The next thing she knew, Spike glanced down and sighed shortly. “Uh oh,” he said, more to himself. “You have that look again.”
“That look?”
“I know what’s coming next.”
Buffy worried a lip between her teeth. “Spike,” she began softly. “I—”
“You can’t be that girl.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re not. You’re not that girl to me.” He leaned inward and pressed his lips to her brow. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, Slayer. No more than you do. But I know I can’t be away from you for a sodding minute without feelin’ like someone’s skinning me alive. I dunno what it is that’s doing this to us.”
Her heart fell a little. For as much as she hated the confusion, a part of her had needlessly clung to the hope that he would think it natural. Spell or no spell, her feelings were genuine, and that was what terrified her.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s doing this to us?”
“I’ve wondered if it’s Dru.”
Buffy tried hard to kill the insane bolt of jealousy that surged through her. She really did. “Dru?” she repeated tersely.
For a second, she thought she saw his lips quirk upwards in a grin. “Yeah,” Spike replied. “I got to thinking that she might’ve put a hex on me. She wasn’t too pleased with my truce with you.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“Yeah. I think she might’ve hexed us.”
“Into sleeping together?”
Spike nodded. “As often an’ as much as possible.”
That didn’t sound right. Buffy’s nose wrinkled, her jealousy dying. “This is a joke. You’re playing a little joke on me right now.”
“Yes.” He grinned. “Only I actually did mull that over, an’ I haven’t completely discounted it. Something’s going on, Slayer. I’ve been known to think with my dick before, but whatever’s happening between us has…well…I don’ know what’s happening between us.”
“I don’t, either.”
“All I know is it gets worse when we’re apart.”
“Yeah,” Buffy agreed with a nod. “To the point where we’re ripping each other’s clothes off.”
“That part I don’t mind so much.”
She sighed heavily. “I’ve told you, Spike. I can’t do that. I can’t do casual sex. I can’t—”
“Has any sex that we’ve had been casual?”
If she turned any redder, she’d start flagging in aircraft. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I know what you’ve meant each of the seventeen times you’ve told me that, an’ I know that what you mean’s gonna get in the way of what you want after you an’ I go a few days without seein’ each other.” Spike kissed her brow again, and God, she tried not to swoon at how wonderful his lips felt against her skin. “So I’m not seeing where your telling me to stay away from you is gonna make a bit of difference.”
“I can’t just keep sleeping with you until this thing goes away!”
Spike pouted. “Why not?”
“God, would you stop?!” At his confused look, she gestured toward his face and shook her head violently. “With the lip and the puppy dog eyes just because I can’t be Casual Sex Girl. I can’t. It’s going to kill me in the long run, and I’d rather die from this pain than from something much worse.”
His eyes became more confused. She’d lost him, and she wasn’t about to clarify. If she told him she was afraid that she’d fall in love with him in the meantime, only to be kicked to the curb once he was free of his slayer-lust, he’d laugh her out of the room. And since it was her room, she wasn’t about to stand for that.
A long sigh tumbled through her lips. “I just can’t do it,” Buffy whispered. “I can’t. Please don’t ask me to do something I can’t.”
Spike was quiet for a long minute, his eyes unreadable. Then his face softened and he nodded gently. “Okay,” he agreed softly. “Okay. But…Slayer, that doesn’ change anything. We’re still going to be hurtin’ when we’re apart.”
She flashed to the look on Angel’s face and moaned, stifling a sporadic giggle. Aside from her guilt for cheating on Spike—even though she hadn’t really been cheating because they weren’t together—the entire thing had been rather funny. “Yeah. I know,” she agreed. “Only it could be worse.”
“Worse?”
Buffy nodded. “I tried to…be with someone else tonight,” she said, and was only mildly surprised when Spike’s jaw tightened and he offered nothing but a short nod. “It…it was Angel.”
He was quiet.
“Spike? Spike, please say something. You’d scared me. You’d…I was hurt and I needed to see if I could get over you by…” She glanced down and shuddered. “I know it sounds horrible, but I was—”
“Slayer…”
“We’re not together, so it’s not like I was cheating—”
“Slayer—”
“—and even so, you’d just torn my heart out so it’s not like I wasn’t entitled—”
“Slayer—”
“And I was thinking about you the entire time—like literally, I moaned your name and everything, so I don’t see where you have a right to be angry with me.”
“Buffy!”
It likely wasn’t a good idea for him to be shouting—or speaking loudly, as that was more accurate—but she really didn’t care. Her heart was threatening to break out of her chest.
“Buffy, I…” Spike paused and looked at her for a long minute, a grin stretching his lips. “You were thinkin’ about me?”
She nodded pitifully. “Yes.”
“You moaned my name?”
“Yes.”
“An’ Angel was there.”
“He was right there.”
“An’ he heard you.”
“Unless he had his ears plugged, which he didn’t. But that’s not the bad part.” Buffy sucked in a deep breath. “I ralphed.”
“You what?”
“I ralphed all over Angel. I kissed him and I got so caught up in the fantasy that I was kissing you that I forgot I wasn’t and when I moaned your name and remembered where I was…I kinda just…threw up on Angel.”
Spike stared at her for a long, quiet second. “You kissed Angel.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought about me.”
“Again, yes.”
“So much that you forgot you were kissing Angel.”
“You have yet to say anything incorrect.”
“And when you realized you were kissing Angel, it made you heave.” A pause. “Literally.”
Buffy nodded. “That sums it up very accurately, yes.”
There was a long moment in which Spike just blinked at her, stone-faced. She held her breath in anticipation of his reaction, heart in her throat.
And then he burst out laughing.
“Hey!” She shrank back under the covers and whacked his shoulder. “It’s not that funny. It was…” Her mind flashed back to the horrified look on Angel’s face, and in a blink, she found herself laughing, too. “Okay, yes, it was that funny.”
“Angel made you heave.” His raucous chuckles were quickly disintegrating into shrill giggles. He was actually trembling with mirth, and she found it unspeakably adorable. “He made you physically ill.”
“Yes.”
It took a few minutes for him to find control. Just when she thought his laughter was about to die down, he’d remember why it was funny in the first place and guffaw loudly before dissolving into giggles again.
“Though to be fair,” he said when he found his voice again, strained as it was, “can you be sure it wasn’t belated mornin’ sickness?”
“You know what? Eat me.”
“I’ve been tryin’, but you keep shooting me down.”
Without realizing it, Buffy’s hand had wheedled under the covers, her fingers coming to rest on the bite mark. “You shouldn’t throw that in my face,” she said softly. “Especially since we’ve decided that we’re not having sex anymore.”
“Actually, you decided that. I jus’ sat here and listened.”
“Spike—”
He held up a hand and nodded. “I know. I know, kitten. But that doesn’ solve our problem. We go days without seein’ each other, an’ this is going to happen. Not to mention, if you go an’ try something stupid like snog Angel to get over me, you’ll heave. An’ not that I don’t find that unbelievably hilarious, but I don’ think it’ll be good for that delectable body of yours.” He went quiet for a minute, reaching over to caress her face softly. “So what do you suggest?”
Buffy pursed her lips. “That we…don’t go days without seeing each other?”
“Slayer—”
“No. Wait. This could work.” Her eyes lit up and she suddenly bolted upright in bed, forgetting the blanket she had clutched to her chest. Her mind was racing so fast that she didn’t even notice the way Spike’s eyes widened hungrily the second they landed on her breasts. “Yes! Yes, this will work. We’ll see each other every day. Every day. You’ll come with me on patrols.”
“Yeah, because that’s how I wanna spend my evenings.”
Buffy turned to glower at him. “You have a better idea? I have to patrol. I have to do it without being in pain. I have to do it without thinking about you.” She ignored the way his eyes softened as though he was actually concerned about her welfare. A girl could read way too much into that. “If you’re right there with me, I’ll not only not be in pain, but you’ll be there so I won’t need to spend time thinking about you.”
“So you’re ignoring me on these patrols?”
“You know what I mean!”
“Hardly ever.”
She shuddered with an aggravated grumble. “Are you with me on this are not?”
“I’m with you.”
The way he said it nearly made her feel that he was in no way referring to her new plan. Her new Getting-Over-Crushing-On-Spike-Before-He-Breaks-Your-Heart plan. Her plan that included spending every night with him—which may or may not have been a stroke of genius. Being with him and not allowing herself to touch him would be difficult, but it was better than feeling used for sexual gratification. Either way, she knew things couldn’t keep on the way they were going. There was no harm in trying something new.
Though when he said things like that, when he spoke in that tone, it was hard to remember why she needed a new plan to begin with.
“There can be no touching on these patrols,” Buffy said, her voice suddenly shaky. “No kissing. No inappropriate fondling. No—”
“Is there such a thing as appropriate fondling?” he asked, his eyes dancing.
“Well…no.”
“You’re not any fun at all, you know that?”
“Spike…”
“I’m gonna need to be able to touch you, Buffy,” he said softly, glancing to the mattress almost shyly. “Just a little. Lemme hold your hand or something.”
“A patrol date?”
He shrugged. “You can call it whatever you like as long as I get to touch you a little. An’ since you’ve ruled out snogging and fondling—appropriate or not—I’ll settle for what I can get.”
If Buffy ever met the girl that could resist that, she was fairly sure she’d have to slay her on the grounds of the girl being anything but human. A sigh trembled through her lips, and she nodded shortly. “Yeah. Okay.”
Spike smiled as though she’d given him the world, and before she could stop him, his lips were on hers. And God, she melted on the spot. She moaned and whimpered and threw her arms around his neck. This was a bad start. This was a very bad start. Spike was kissing her. She lived for his kisses, and he was kissing her. And damn, it was hard to remember why she had put up rules against kissage when he kissed her.
“Unh…”
Before she could blink, he’d rolled her beneath him, his cock teasing her sopping flesh as his mouth worshipped hers.
“You’re breaking the rules,” she complained half-heartedly once their lips parted. Spike began showering her face with kisses, his hand sliding between them to caress her clit. “This is breaking the rules.”
“Rules don’ begin until tomorrow,” he replied. “Lemme have you one more time?”
“Ohh…”
“Just once more before it’s against the rules.”
She knew she should say no. She knew it. She knew she should push him off her and send him packing for being so presumptive. But he was doting kisses into her skin, his fingers were massaging her clit, and the head of his cock was pressing into her slit. And if she wasn’t going to get to feel this again, she wanted it one more time. One more time before it was against the rules.
“Please, Buffy…” Spike’s head dipped and he licked sensually at her neck. “One more time?”
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly, a moan tearing through her lips as he sank inside her. “Oh, yes.”
Just once more. Once more.
Something told her that this was an exceptionally bad start to the plan.
To be continued…