Many apologies for the reviews from the last chapter that I haven’t answered yet. Life continues to be insane. But they will be answered asap. In the meantime, please know how very, very appreciative I am.
Here’s the next chapter. Hope you enjoy…
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CHAPTER EIGHT
“Spike!”
Eyes wide, Buffy scrambled off the bed.
No. This can’t be happening. Please, not now. Not after…
A wave of dizziness hit and she wobbled, grabbing the bedpost to keep from falling. Then it was gone, the roaring in her ears receding as her vision cleared. Still a little shaky but steady enough not to fall on her face, she bolted after Spike but stopped short as the cool air of the room reminded her of her current lack of clothing. With a muttered oath that would have made Spike proud, she whirled and darted back to the bed, yanking off the sheet and struggling to wrap it around her.
A muffled scream sounded from the hallway. Her head shot up. Kicking aside the trailing end of the sheet, she rushed to the door in an awkward stumble-hop and threw it open, skittering to a dead halt as she came face-to-back with Spike.
He hadn’t made it far, just barely past the threshold. Peering around his shoulder, Buffy could see the source of the scream – a young housemaid named Kitty. She stood frozen in place, a pile of crumpled bed linens at her feet and one slightly pudgy hand covering her mouth, eyes large and staring above it.
At first, Spike didn’t look back, didn’t acknowledge her presence in any way, but then his head turned and she saw the confusion in his face.
“I don’t have clothes,” he said softly.
Her heart lurched at the bewildered tone, so very un-Spikelike. It was painfully close to the way he’d sounded when she’d first found him living in the high school basement.
She glanced quickly at Kitty. The girl seemed to be making a quick recovery from her initial shock. Looking not so much traumatized as fascinated now, her wide-eyed gaze roamed boldly over Spike before settling on a particular part of his anatomy.
Buffy scowled in her direction, then spoke softly to Spike. “We’ll get you some clothes. Just come back to the bedroom, okay?”
At first, he didn’t respond, and she wondered if her words had even registered. Then his head bowed and he turned to brush past her, his eyes avoiding hers. She was about to follow when she noticed Kitty edging closer, craning her neck to better keep an eye on the retreating view.
Tugging the sheet higher, Buffy stepped in front of her. “Not that I don’t understand, but if you don’t stop ogling my boyfriend, I’m gonna have to hurt you.”
The girl’s eyes grew even larger as her mouth snapped shut, and Buffy felt the tiniest pang of guilt.
She relented a bit. “Just kidding. Except about the ogling part. Or the part where I tell you not to mention this to anyone or I’ll get majorly pissed. Um…that’s mad pissed, not drunk pissed. And I don’t think Mr. Giles would be too happy about it either,” she added. “So, we’re good, right?”
Though Kitty’s mouth opened and closed a few times, only a slight squeak escaped. She finally settled for nodding, ducking her head as she did so. Feeling like a big fat bully, Buffy reached out to touch the girl’s arm. When Kitty’s head jerked up, Buffy smiled at her encouragingly.
“Sorry. I really do understand. I mean, really do. But let’s still keep this our secret, okay?”
This time, Kitty’s nod was more enthusiastic. Her face glowed with relief. Buffy smiled again as she shuffled backwards into the bedroom, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible. But before she could close the door, a commotion sounded down the hall, freezing her in place.
Two seconds later, Giles charged into view, his headlong rush slowing and halting as he caught sight of the two women. His expression changed from worried uncertainty to wary relief, tinged with a hefty dose of embarrassment.
A suddenly galvanized Kitty jumped to scoop up the bed linens. As she scurried past him, she mumbled something Buffy couldn’t quite catch. Then she disappeared down the hallway, leaving Slayer and Watcher to stare tongue-tied at each other.
Giles cleared his throat, whipping off his glasses as he glanced away then back. He gestured in her direction, carefully studying the wall just to her left. “I thought…well…Mrs. Hudson heard a scream.”
Buffy clutched the sheet tighter. “Yeah…it was Kitty. She was kind of…startled.”
He nodded, clearing his throat again. “Really? I had no idea she was so excitable.”
“Giles…” She made sure her hair covered her neck, trying not to be obvious about it. “Spike is awake.”
Awkward Giles vanished in an instant and his piercing gaze pinned her. “I see. And how long has he been…?”
“It just happened. I swear it just happened. I haven’t even talked to him yet.” Glancing over her shoulder, she located Spike sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her. Thankfully, he was well out of Giles’ line of vision. She turned back, lowering her voice. “You don’t have to worry, I promise. But I need some time here. We’ll be down later.”
When he started to object, she cut him off. “Giles, please.”
Instead of arguing as he so clearly wanted to do, he nodded, his face taking on a familiar resigned look. Settling his glasses back in place, he sighed. “Very well. I’ll inform the others. Perhaps you could at least join us for dinner, if not before. Spike, also, if he’s feeling up to it.”
Watching as he retreated back down the hallway, Buffy waited until he was out of sight then closed the door, drawing in a deep breath as she swung around to face Spike. She almost jumped when she found him standing less than an arm’s length away. They stared at each other.
There were so many things she wanted to say. How badly she’d missed him. How happy she was to see him alive and well. How deeply moving their lovemaking had been. How angry she’d be at him for keeping his return a secret, once she got past being so happy about his resurrection.
“You ran away.”
She hated that her voice sounded so small and vulnerable.
He opened his mouth then stopped and frowned. “Didn’t run away.”
“Yes, you did. You ran away.”
“Did not.
Now it was her turn to frown. “Did so.”
“Didn’t.” He frowned harder. “I was just…lookin’ for a fag.”
She rolled her eyes. “Naked.”
“Yeah, well…” He shrugged. “Been awhile since I had one.”
She snorted softly. Against her will, her lips quirked in a faint smile, but she sobered quickly as his expression changed from macho-defensive to something achingly akin to awe. For several seconds, neither one spoke.
“Hey,” she ventured at last.
“You’re real.”
She nodded. “Really am.” Tears stung her eyes as she offered him a tremulous smile “So are you.”
The emotion of the moment, not to mention Naked Spike and memories of what they’d just done together, made it really hard to concentrate. But Buffy knew he needed an explanation, so she did her best to oblige.
“Look, I know you’re probably confused. A lot’s happened, and you don’t have any idea where you are or how you got here. So first things first, okay? This is Giles’ home. In England. He and Willow got wind of something bad going down in LA. They did a spell and teleported you here, you and whatshername…Illyria.”
She paused. He didn’t respond, but his eyes never left her face.
“When you got here you were hurt pretty bad, and you weren’t really healing the way you should. Something else was going on, too. You wouldn’t wake up. I think maybe you were poisoned and it was keeping you from getting better. So Giles called me, and…well, there’s some other stuff we can get into later, but…bottom line…you’re awake now, and you’re okay. Right?”
The reassurance Buffy craved didn’t come. “Spike, you are okay…aren’t you?” Biting her lip, she moved closer, head tilting back to gaze into his face. He didn’t pull back, but something flickered in his eyes and he looked away, body tensing, jaw tightening. She could feel everything in him straining away from her. Stricken, she froze.
“Spike?”
“Get away.” He said it calmly, as if commenting on something as mundane as the weather.
She blinked at him stupidly.
“All right then. If you won’t, I will.”
And he very deliberately stepped backwards.
At first, she could only stand there and gape in disbelief. Then she took a deep breath. “Okay. Wait. Can we start over? ’Cause I don’t know what just happened here.”
His hard gaze fell on her neck. With her hair swept behind her shoulders, the mark he had left there would have been clearly visible to him.
“Oh, yeah. You do. You know exactly what just happened.”
The growling anger in his voice shocked her. “Spike, just calm down a minute—”
“Bugger calm! I was biting you! I damn near killed you! Do you even care?”
That hit an old nerve, and Buffy felt herself go from confused to livid in less than half a second. Pulling the sheet tighter, she glared up at him. “First off, not really feeling near death here, and second, what the hell is that supposed to mean? And don’t you dare give me that old line about a death wish, because I am so over that!”
“Right. So you were beatin’ me off with your neck then.”
She tossed her head, exasperated. “Is that what this is about? Okay, fine. We made love, you made with the biting thing, and then you got all freaky and ran away. Big deal!”
“It’s a bloody big deal! What in the buggering hell did you think you were doing?”
“Saving your life, you idiot! You couldn’t feed on your own, regular blood wasn’t helping…you were dying. It was the only way to bring you back!”
Dark brows drawn together, he glared at her. “Yeah? How’s that?”
Taking a deep breath, Buffy chose her words carefully. This was just a stupid misunderstanding. Somehow they’d gone from making mad, passionate, bitey love to this, and now it was up to her to fix it. It wasn’t really something she wanted to get into, and he definitely wouldn’t like hearing about it, but there was no other way.
“A few years back, Angel was poisoned. He was dying and the only cure was the blood of a slayer. Your symptoms were a lot like his. We couldn’t find any other answer, so…” Her gaze steady, she met his eyes. “I gave you the blood of a slayer.”
Seconds ticked away as she searched his face. Maddeningly calm and aloof now, his expression was unreadable. Then his head tilted.
“And how exactly did the shaggin’ figure into it?”
The question hit her like a blast of arctic air. “What?”
“You heard me. The shaggin’…that part of the cure, too, or just a fringe benefit? Is that how dear old grandsire lost his soul? No, wait…couldn’t have been. On account of it was Faith who poisoned him, so that must have been a good while after you gave him the big happy.”
At her disbelieving stare, he nodded. “Oh, yeah, heard all about it…and about your little trip to the hospital after lover boy got a bit greedy. Your friends made sure of that as soon as you moved me into your basement. Worried I might get a little naughty, or you might forget yourself and they’d end up with a repeat performance.” He snorted. “Thought they were off their bean then, thinkin’ you’d make the same mistake twice, especially with me. But maybe it wasn’t such a cockeyed notion after all.”
“Stop it, right now. You don’t get to turn this into some kind of lame contest between you and Angel! Why are you acting this way?”
His icy blue gaze challenged her. “Think the bigger question is, why were you offerin’ yourself up like my bleedin’ birthday prezzie? Retirement provin’ a bit much for you, slayer?” His voice lowered. “Need a bit of a thrill?”
He stood there, jaw clenched, muscles tensed, obviously expecting her to fight back, or maybe even hit back. Instead she stared at him, drowning in a weird sense of déjà vu. It had been so long since she’d seen this side of Spike, not since his soulless days, really. She’d forgotten how keenly his words could cut.
But only if she let them. Her gaze hardened.
Stepping back, she dropped the sheet and turned on her heel, ignoring the slight hiss of indrawn breath behind her. Moving to the large wardrobe, she reached inside, grabbing his boots and yanking his freshly laundered jeans off the hanger. Then she marched back to him, flinging the pants hard at his chest. He caught them reflexively as she resisted the urge to follow up with the boots and instead dumped them on the floor.
Without looking at him, she scooped up her own clothes and headed for the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. When she emerged fully dressed a few minutes later, she found Spike lacing up the last tie on his boot. He rose to face her.
Even now, her traitorous body responded to the sight of his bare chest gleaming above the tight-fitting jeans, but she ruthlessly suppressed the emotions he roused and kept her expression carefully blank. He wasn’t the only one who could do enigmatic.
“I’m guessing they couldn’t salvage your shirt,” she said, voice flat as she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Dinner should be in about an hour. I’ll ask Giles to see that you get a new one before then. You don’t have to come down, of course. Doesn’t matter. But your friend Illyria will be there.” A tinge of bitterness crept in. “I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to see you.”
She was halfway out the door before Spike’s voice stopped her.
“What about—?”
He sounded hesitant now, even subdued. She turned.
“Angel…and Gunn. What happened to them?”
Buffy stared at him for a long moment. “We don’t know. We think they got sucked into another dimension. Willow’s pretty sure she and the coven have located it. They’re preparing a spell to open a portal so we can go after them.”
She waited for more, but he simply gazed back at her before giving a slight nod, standing motionless in the middle of the room as she closed the door.
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TBC in Part 9
A/N: Step right this way, folks! We’re boarding the roller coaster ride known as Spuffy! There will be ups and downs and more than a few sharp turns in the next few chapters, but I promise there will also be plenty of Spuffiness. So fasten your seatbelts, and I hope you enjoy the ride.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is currently a WIP written in response to a Spuffy Kinkathon challenge. The story requirements were as follows: The requested kink was hurt/comfort. Three other requests were to show Spike reluctantly biting Buffy, include Dawn and/or Xander in the story, and set it anywhere from Season 5 to Post-NFA.