She awoke to the foreign sensation of a strong arm curled around her middle and a cool, comforting chest pressed against her back. He was rumbling gently, and while she had nothing but wishful thinking to rely on, her insides warmed at the notion that she made him happy enough to purr.
Buffy hadn’t thought it possible to sleep easily in jeans, but she hadn’t wanted to leave herself bare from the waist down. Not only did it leave her open to temptation—especially with the justification that it was her birthday and she should treat herself—but she didn’t want Spike discovering the bite mark accidentally. So she’d dressed in his proffered clothing, and despite the confines of denim, she’d been asleep within seconds.
Spike was small and wiry, but that didn’t stop his clothes from hanging off her. And though she knew it did nothing for her figure, she couldn’t help but swell in adoration, especially under the look he’d given her when she’d modeled his clothing for him.
It made her seriously doubt the power of halter tops and gaucho pants if a baggy tee and loose-fitting jeans could make him pant as hard as he had.
Buffy didn’t want to consider how late she’d slept. With as well-rested as she was, it had to be almost noon. So now, not only had she likely worried her mother into an early grave, but she would need a seriously good excuse or an extremely convincing note from Dr. Spike to keep Snyder off her back.
Then again, it was her birthday.
She knew the second he awoke. The arm around her tightened, and he began stroking her stomach lazily, but with such affection that she rapidly descended into a puddle of Buffy-goo.
“Morning, pet,” he purred.
“Is it morning?”
“Almost ten.”
Buffy blinked. Was it possible she’d slept so little? As exhausted as she’d been when her head finally hit the pillow last night, she’d thought she’d sleep the day away, especially without the additive of an alarm clock.
“You do mean…ten in the A.M, right?”
“’Course.”
She sighed. “I’m gonna have to get up and get ready, then. School. Homework. Teachers. The like.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Surprisingly well-rested and really, really comfy.”
“Your strength?”
Buffy flexed and sighed. “Still on vacation. I’ll talk with Giles today. He’ll just tell me to wait until tomorrow, but I’ll talk with him today.” She paused, her lower lip jutting out. “I don’t wanna go to school.”
“Then don’t. Stay here.” Spike’s hand became more boisterous, slipping under the hem of the tee to stroke her bare skin. His mouth quickly fell to her throat, peppering her with soft, sweet kisses. “Stay with me.”
She whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut. “You’re breaking the rules.”
“Sod the rules.”
“Spike…”
In a blink, his hand and mouth abandoned her, and she was instantly bereft. “Yeah,” he said raggedly. “Yeah. Sorry, pet. You just look so good.”
“I just woke up.”
“Yeah, an’ I happen to like that look on you.” She heard him shift as he sat up, and quickly rolled onto her back so that her eyes could enjoy the tussled look of his blond curls and the starry just-woke-up look that crossed his face. Spike had bed-head.
The thought made her giggle.
He arched a brow, which only increased her mirth. Bed-head Spike and arched-brow Spike combined were a lethal force.
“What?” he demanded, his tone amused.
“You look all cute.”
“I am not cute.”
Buffy scoffed teasingly. “Oh, so it’s okay to be comfy and adorable, but cute is pushing the line?”
Spike offered a lazy shrug and grinned. “What can I say, luv? I’m a puzzle.” He stood up and turned to his bureau, giving her a fairly remarkable view of his scrumptious ass. Damn, he wore his jeans well. It was almost enough to encourage her to return the ones on her person—that way he’d always have a pair handy. “Wanna grab brekky?”
She paused thoughtfully. “I’m going to interpret that as breakfast,” she replied, grinning. “Spike, I really gotta get to school.”
“It’s your birthday. I say you really gotta get yourself fed.”
“You can’t go out anyway. Sun’s up.”
“I have my ways.” He gestured to what looked like a walk-in closet. “Tunnels, see? We can go anywhere you want.”
“I really need to get to school.”
“Yeah, but you also need to eat. People die of starvation. They don’ die of not goin’ to school.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to die of starvation between now and lunch.”
Spike shrugged carelessly. “It’s the Hellmouth, luv, as well as your birthday. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Buffy began combing through her hair with her fingers, frowning. “I really should’ve thought this through,” she murmured. “I have no mirror. No toothpaste. No shower. No—”
Spike shrugged, unbothered, and pointed to his undoubtedly stolen dresser. “Top drawer,” he said.
She froze and tossed him a wary look. “Don’t tell me…”
“Some of it I knicked from your house. Some if it I knicked from the shops.” He shrugged again when her gaze became scrutinizing, and turned his eyes to the ground almost sheepishly. “What?”
“You have a drawer for me?”
“Well, with stuff you din’t know was missing. An’ some stuff I picked out, myself.”
“You have a drawer for me?”
“I wanted you to have some stuff here…jus’ in case.” Spike sighed when her stare refused to relent, his shoulders sagging. “Did I do somethin’ wrong? I know that stealing breaks the eighth commandment, but for Chrissake, I’m evil an’ stealing’s evil, ergo I steal. You’ve turned me on my sodding head enough as it is, luv. I oughta be out there munching on the populace, an’ instead I just knick li’l things that no sodding clerk’s gonna notice to begin with. I don’—”
Buffy stilled, awe filling her wholly. And a proverbial breath that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding for the past few weeks was finally given reprieve. In all honesty, she hadn’t allowed herself to consider the murderous part of Spike’s existence for fear of talking herself out of the plan, or her attraction, or the part of her that liked him to the point of having fallen in love with him. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it—not smart, considering she was a slayer—but she’d needed time to work out her feelings. And when she finally had, the idea of Spike killing civilians on her watch had been so far off her radar, she hadn’t even considered it.
Especially since he’d become more a fixture in her life since they agreed to the plan. Since the night he climbed into her room after she’d ralphed all over Angel. Until that moment, they’d attempted to keep their distance from each other. And overall, their connection had grown since the plan, despite their moments of weakness. She’d realized she was in love with him since the plan. And, since the plan, he’d been her routine patrol buddy. He’d been with her almost every night, and it hadn’t occurred to her that he might still be feeding.
“You’re not…” She sighed a little and smiled. “You’re not…eating people?”
“Well…I…” Spike averted his gaze quickly, and immediately, the high she’d felt plummeted with a chill.
No.
“I’m not killing anyone,” he amended. “I haven’t, I mean. I haven’t killed anyone. But Slayer, a man’s gotta eat. I have been feeding, but I haven’t killed anyone. An’ I haven’t taken so much that it hurts them, either. I’ve jus’ made blood donors out of a few blokes. I know—”
“Men?” Buffy blurted, her nerves singing. She knew she was being illogical, but that was the first thing she grabbed onto. “You haven’t been drinking from women?”
“Bloody fuck, no.”
“Oh.”
“But I have been feeding…I have to, Buffy. It’s what I am. If I don’t feed, I die. An’ don’ gimme any rot about pig’s blood.” Spike shuddered. “I bleeding hate pig’s blood. The difference between pig’s blood an’ human blood is the difference between eating a Denny’s dinner off a dirty bathroom floor an’ dining with the Queen. I can control myself. An’ since I’m not killing anyone—”
“It’s—”
“If you say it’s wrong, I’m gonna rip your bloody throat out.”
Buffy quirked a brow. “No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not. But I’d seriously consider it.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
Spike held up a hand. “Stop that! The thing is, I’m not human. I’m not. An’ I shouldn’t have to live up to what is an’ isn’t right by human standards. What’s right for vampires is to stay alive by drinking blood. We’re not held to a moral compass. An’ I feed off humans because I am a vampire, dammit, an’ you can’t leash me. It’s my choice. Not yours. An’—”
“Spike—”
“If you think I’m gonna stop—”
“Spike—”
“You’re off your nutter. An’—”
“Spike!” That seemed to get his attention. He halted in mid-sentence and tossed her an inquisitive glance. “Spike, are you under the impression that I’m angry with you for not killing people?”
He blinked stupidly. “Well…yes.”
“Then, and I say this with utmost warmth and affection, you’re a moron.” Buffy shook her head. “I never asked you to stop killing. In fact, I never asked you to stop anything that makes you a vampire. I’ve never mentioned it, and I never intended to. Do you have any idea how much it means to me that you…all on your own, you made the decision…” She released a shaky sigh and glanced up. “Did you do it for me?”
“Buffy—”
“Did you do it for me, Spike?”
He exhaled slowly and nodded. “I did. Of course I did, Buffy. What do you think? I din’t wanna give you a reason to have to kill me. I know…I’m not trying to compare whatever we have to your great sodding love affair with the enormous poofter, but I din’t want you to be in a position where you had to off another bloke who’s…shared your bed. That an’…it wasn’t a huge sacrifice. I don’t need to kill people to be happy. Gimme blood, gimme violence, gimme a few good shags, gimme a telly, an’ toss in a remote. There are plenty of nasty buggers around here if I wanna good brawl. An’ then there’s you.” Spike smiled shyly. “You’re…you’re worth it.”
Oh yeah. She was totally in love with him.
She was totally screwed.
“And I have a drawer?”
“Full of some things that were yours before, an’ some other things that we’ll call pre-birthday gifts.” Spike smiled and stepped forward, reaching out to rub her shoulders. “An’ while we’re on that…” He leaned over and brushed a kiss across her brow. “Happy birthday, pet.”
Totally screwed.
“You gonna sing for me?” she asked teasingly, running a hand across his bare chest, over his unbeating heart. The way he inhaled sharply gave her a quick rush of feminine empowerment, and she warmed all over.
“Maybe later,” he replied. “Get me good an’ sloshed, an’ I’ll even go a few rounds. For now…” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her over to the bureau. “Look through your things. Get yourself all dolled up for school. I’ll go grab you some breakfast.”
Buffy bit her lip. “Spike, you don’t have to—”
He grinned and cupped her cheeks, kissing her spontaneously. “Got me some pop-tarts upstairs.”
Of all the lines to make me swoon, that has to be the most random.
And yet, combined with his thoughtfulness and his kiss and the boyish look on his face, there was massive swooning.
“Oh.”
Spike moved away before she could tackle him with her lips, which was likely for the best.
“Yes,” he agreed with a nod. “Sorry about that.”
“Huh?”
“Snogging you. Not a part of the plan.”
“It’s my birthday,” she protested lamely.
Spike grinned and neared her again. “Well,” he said, cupping her face again, “in that case…”
God, she loved the taste of his kiss.
“You have pop-tarts?” Buffy gasped breathlessly once their lips parted.
“An’ a toaster.”
“You’re prepared.”
“I think I ate a boy scout once. Maybe something stuck.” He grinned and pivoted, fishing out a tee from his bureau and sliding it over his head, hiding all that scrumptious flesh from her. Meanie. “Get yourself ready, pet. I’ll make you something quick.”
“And write me a note?”
“It’s your birthday. I’ll do whatever you like.”
Buffy turned and grinned, shaking her head as Spike bolted upstairs. He was so…perfect. This morning was so perfect. Like she was waking up with her boyfriend and getting ready. Like she was one half of a whole. Like she was in a true, functioning relationship.
The sentiment didn’t last, of course. Reality was too overbearing. Last night had been a glitch. A huge, massive glitch. This morning was different because she’d awakened with him. Because it was her birthday. Soon, they’d be back on track. The plan would be back on track.
Perhaps, if they abided the plan…Spike would eventually fall in love with her, too. And perhaps things would stay that way even after the spell was over.
It was a gamble that was almost worth the heartbreak.
Almost.
To be continued