He smelled her before she knocked and moved quickly to cover Buffy’s ears before she could be disturbed. She’d been resting so peacefully, with the occasional grin tickling her gorgeous lips. He didn’t want her waking up now. Not now, when she’d only been asleep a few hours.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” Joyce said, almost meekly. “I just…you are both…dressed, right?”
Spike arched a brow and bit his lower lip to warn off a chuckle. “I might be evil, but I’m not about to sully your daughter while she’s bleeding an’ you’re downstairs.” At least not while she knew he was in the house. He might be one to push his luck, but that was a little too much push for his comfort. “What’s on your mind, Joyce?”
She chuckled dryly and crossed her arms, her eyes dropping to the floor before she looked up again. “Oh, if I start in I might not stop. Is she doing all right?”
“Jus’ fine. She’s been asleep for a while.”
“Oh. She’s…is that normal?”
Spike offered a dry grin. “She’s been asleep for six hours. After the night she had, I’d be surprised if she woke up before tomorrow night.”
His words, as always, were a jinx. Buffy moaned a bit and stirred in his arms. “Unnhh. Spike?”
He tightened his arms around her immediately, the mirth in his eyes melting into tender concern. “I’m right here, baby,” he murmured soothingly, though it was all for naught. She was in the middle of some dream, and hearing his voice was all she needed to keep from waking.
“All right,” Joyce said tiredly. “Ummm, well, Angel and Mr. Giles left quite a while ago. They wanted to know the second that Buffy awoke or…was feeling up to seeing them.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “How’s about you an’ I smuggle her outta the country?”
“I’ll be your co-conspirator.” Joyce smiled wryly, then folded her hands properly and turned. “Well, if you’re…I don’t want to wake her up, though I am hoping to have a conversation with someone that explains exactly what happened to her in a way that doesn’t make my head spin.”
“No chance of that.”
“I’m going to make pancakes. Do you want pancakes?” Joyce nodded to her daughter. “She’s going to want pancakes when she wakes up. And considering that she didn’t get a birthday party…”
“I’ll be down when she’s down,” Spike said.
The woman smiled and nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I…I know you went through a lot last night. Our conversation notwithstanding…but Mr. Giles…he let me know what happened. What you did…to save her. And I…” She shook her head and laughed, as though she’d said something foolish. “I just…thank you.”
Spike swallowed hard and nodded. What was there to say? It was nothing? It wasn’t—and it was, all at the same time. Saving Buffy was second nature to him. If she were in danger, he’d be where she was. He’d be at her side, fighting off whatever was doing her wrong.
“You’re…Joyce, it’s…” Spike blinked and glanced back to Buffy’s sleeping face. “Yeah.”
“You really care for her, don’t you?”
He shuffled uncomfortably. This was not the sort of conversation he wanted to have while he was in bed with the woman’s daughter, no matter how honorable his intentions were. Especially now—now that he knew that he loved her.
“I…ummm.” Spike cleared his throat and tried to force a grin. “Fried cake with liquid sugar?”
“I’m overstepping, aren’t I?” Joyce waved and edged out of the room. “I’ll just…go downstairs and start…frying the cake.”
Spike sighed and reclined. So Giles and the enormous wanker wanted to see Buffy. He imagined so. They’d give her some self-righteous spiel about how everything had been for her own good. How they’d been under orders, or how every slayer had to go through it, and there was no reason why Buffy should be any different. Why she should have special treatment. Just because she was the Slayer.
The rules were buggered, as it was. Made up by a Council of middle-aged Brits who would never have to be in the thick of a fight. Spike had met a watcher or two, and aside from Rupert Giles, they were all the same. All accustomed to controlled conditions with a vampire in a laboratory or in an arena where the other suits could monitor the situation. In all the research Spike had put into slayers, he’d only read of a few watchers who went above and beyond their roles. Most formed attachments to their slayers, but few would know what to do if they came across a vampire in conditions that were, for lack of a better word, uncontrolled.
Thus the entire idea of a test to prove the Slayer’s aptitude over her brawn made little sense in the long run. If she failed, the Council lost an experienced warrior and had to start from scratch. If she succeeded, the trust between slayer and watcher would be weakened; not to mention, the Slayer would likely be out of commission for a few days to both regain her strength and allow time for her wounds to heal.
Spike didn’t know Rupert Giles all that well, but from what he did know, he couldn’t help but boggle that the old man hadn’t reached the same conclusion. That he’d allowed such a bloody barbaric ritual to occur in the first place, especially considering how close he and Buffy were. The bloke was practically the Slayer’s surrogate father, and he’d allowed something like this to happen to her.
Not only that, but he and Angel were going to justify it. Bloody priceless.
“Is my face less swollen?”
Spike blinked and glanced down, grinning when he met Buffy’s green gaze. “Lookee here,” he purred, brushing a kiss across her brow. “My girl’s got two pretty eyes.”
Buffy scrunched her face up and whimpered. “I feel all achy.”
“You were in quite a tumble last night. I would offer to rub you down but then you’d prob’ly jus’ slap me.”
“Meh. Touching good. Buffy like touching.” She shifted upward and brushed her sore lips against his neck, her right hand running down his chest. “Buffy want good touching.”
“When did Buffy become Julius bloody Caesar?”
She giggled. “Hey, I’m delirious from the achies. Give a girl a break. And…Julius Caesar?”
“You know…” Spike shrugged, his eyes fluttering shut as her hand settled over his denim-clad cock. He whimpered and thrust up into her touch. “He spoke…about himself in third person…a lot.”
“You knew Caesar?”
He chuckled and arched a brow. “Yeah, because I’m two thousand years old. Don’t tell me bloody Shakespeare isn’t on your reading curriculum. I wouldn’t wanna have to eat one of your teachers.”
“Or her friends…” Buffy ventured, propping herself up so that she could pepper his chest with soft, sweet kisses. Even through the cotton of his shirt, the heat of her lips had his skin melting. She burned him so good. “Romans…countrymen?”
“Ha bloody ha.”
“Teaches you to question my Shakespeare knowledge.”
“You have Shakespeare knowledge?”
Buffy nipped at one of his nipples and squeezed his erection. “You shouldn’t make fun of me when I have your…ummm…boy parts at my disposal.”
Spike chuckled. She was too bloody adorable for words. “My boy parts?”
“I like your boy parts.”
“Trust me…” A moan hissed through his teeth as he thrust into her touch. “The sentiment’s more than shared.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. They think you’re bloody brilliant.” Spike moaned again. “Christ. Luv, your mum’s downstairs.”
Buffy just grinned deviously and squeezed his cock again. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly Mr. Prim and Proper.”
“You’re also bruised an’—”
She pouted and glanced up. “You don’t want me when I’m bruised?”
“I want you always. I don’t wanna hurt you.” Spike paused, a sensual leer stretching across his mouth as he bit his lower lip and thrust against her touch. “Not in all the wrong places, luv. I wanna make you hurt good, an’ the only way that’s happening is if you get your strength back.”
“You don’t think I could take you?”
“Right now?” He quirked a brow. “I don’t think you could take a feather-duster.”
Buffy moaned. “Meanie.”
“At least you can see now.”
A small smile flirted with her lips, and though the sight warmed his heart, it was bittersweet. He didn’t want to add that looking at the angry circles of red under her eyes made his heart break. That the cut running down her cheek and the gash on her brow only served as reminders of how he’d failed her. How every minute that he hadn’t remembered the Cruciamentum had hurt her just a little more. He could have prevented this. If he hadn’t been so wound up in her and what she did to him…God, he could have prevented this so easily.
She was still curled into his side, despite everything. And he loved her more than he was worth.
“You want your present, sweetheart?” he murmured, nuzzling her attentively. “Happy bloody birthday, an’ all?”
“Mass emphasis on the bloody?”
Spike shuddered. “No more, if I have my say.”
“Yes, because the life of a slayer is not without its perils.”
“Don’ you be educating me on the life of a slayer, luv.” Spike slid his hand down the length of his body, covering hers where it still rested over his cock and encouraging her to give him another squeeze. “Bleeding hell, you don’ know what you do to me.”
Buffy just grinned and rubbed him harder. “I know I want good touchies and you’re being Mr. Selfish.”
“You want touchies, eh?”
She nodded.
“Even with the plan an’ all?”
“I think we’ve safely postponed the plan based on severe ouchies and the consequences of life-and-death scenarios.” Her fingers began working on the clasp of his jeans. “So…Buffy get good touchies?”
“Buffy’s turned into Caesar again.” Spike wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Baby, I don’ wanna hurt you.”
“So don’t. Make with the good touchies.” She bit lightly on his nipple again, eliciting a long purr and another sharp thrust of his hips. “Good being the operative word.”
Spike growled and slid out from beneath her. “You make it hard to be less-than-evil, pet.”
“I want you all evil. Evil me up.”
He moaned in protest. “Buffy—”
“Evil me up until I can’t walk.”
“You can’t walk.”
She pouted. “You don’t know that!”
“Buffy—”
“Willing victim here! What kind of vampire are you?”
Spike willed his eyes shut and whimpered. “Be a good kitten,” he purred. “I’ll give you a little now. Jus’ a little. I want you to get your strength back up so I can shag you silly. You get your strength back, an’ I’ll evil you up.”
“Mmm. I like that plan.”
“Better than the one we have now, yeah?” Spike grinned and propped himself on his side, dipping his mouth down to tease her nipple through her camisole. “Spread your legs for me.”
“Spike…”
“Jus’ wanna touch. Won’t taste.” He met her eyes and pouted. “You won’ let me.”
“Soon,” she moaned, arching back when he slid his fingers under the waistband of her flannel bottoms and cupped her pussy. “Soon. I want it.”
Spike whimpered. The thought of her taste was enough to undo him completely. That and the thought that she trusted him—she’d overcome that final hurdle—and she was going to let him in. It was enough to make a grown man weep. “Yeah?” he asked, inwardly berating the childish hope in his voice. “You mean it?”
Buffy nodded fiercely, swirling her hips upward. “Please. Please.”
“Where do you want me, pet?”
She seized his wrist and guided him until his fingers were dipping inside her pussy. Then she moaned again and jerked. “Ohhh…”
“Christ, you’re wet.” Spike rolled his eyes back. Knowing what he did to her was one thing—he loved the scent of her arousal. The fire that stormed her gaze when she wanted him. The way she mauled him with kisses and set his blood aflame. “You this wet for me, baby?”
“Always.”
He grinned, his fangs slicing through his gums and making quick work of her camisole, his demon receding in a blink so that he could wrap his mouth around her naked breast. He pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger, and growled when she mewled.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured. “Bloody seraph, you are.”
“I don’t…know what…that…means,” she replied, and he had to bite back a laugh at her attempt at casual. “But it…sounds nice.” She rotated her hips under him and bit her lip hard. “Back. Back. Inside.”
“Whass’at, kitten?”
“Fingers. Inside.”
He obliged her quickly, leaving her clit to his thumb as he thrust his eager digits inside her body once more. Buffy whimpered and arched again. She was close. She was so close already. The knowledge was both invigorating and somewhat disappointing. He loved it that he could do this to her. That he could render her into a puddle of incoherent slayer-goo with just a few masterful strokes of his hand, but the larger part of him hated the idea of leaving her body. He belonged inside her.
“Ohhh, God.”
“Baby like?” he cooed. “You feel like heaven.”
She opened her eyes dazedly. “You’re not—”
“You can still feel like heaven, pet. Doesn’ matter which part of me’s in you.”
He must have said something very right; her eyes widened with ecstasy and she began thrusting against his fingers in earnest. “Ohhh.”
Spike just grinned and sucked hard on her nipple, unable to stop himself from moaning into her skin when she trembled. When her pussy squeezed his fingers with the impact of her orgasm. He moved quickly and swallowed her whimper with a fiery kiss.
She mewled again when he slipped out of her, and again when her eyes fluttered open. When she saw him licking her honey off his fingers.
“Spike,” she moaned sleepily, her eyes warm. And the sight of her, bruises and all, smiling at him like he was a god, gave him more than he could ever want. It was something he’d never thought he’d see; the glow in her eyes. The look on her face. He knew that look. He’d just never been on the receiving end of it.
Happy. God, he’d made her happy.
“Was that my prezzie?” she asked, batting her eyes.
Wanton li’l nymph.
He loved her so much.
“That’s the present you don’t show your mum,” he replied dryly, though nothing could banish the grin from his lips. “The shiny I got you—”
“Oh! Shiny!”
“Is in my jean pocket.”
Buffy blinked and sat up, suddenly very awake. “Ohhh,” she drawled, the look on her face suddenly a perfect mock of a very satisfied cat that was stuffed full of canary. She leaned over him, sliding her hand intently over his lap, settling on his erection. “Is this it?”
“Minx.”
“Hey. Buffy got happy touchies. Spike saved Buffy’s life. Spike gets happy touchies, too.”
“I repeat: minx.”
She stared at him for a minute, then shrugged and dove for the aforementioned pocket. “Well, if you don’t want touchies, I can just—”
He moved like fire, seizing her wrist and guiding her back to his cock. “Quietly, now,” he murmured. “Don’ want your mum rushing up. She’s making us pancakes, you know.”
Buffy grinned and leaned in to nibble on his throat. “Let me help you work up an appetite.”
“Around you, luv, my appetite’s the last thing you need to worry about.”
“Yeah, but let me help anyway. My way’s more fun.”
Spike blinked and looked at her, then broke off with a laugh. “You are a shameless li’l minx.”
“Yeah, but you love me, anyway.”
There was nothing to say to that. Nothing to do but smile.
You have no idea.
To be continued…