With one more glance in the mirror to make sure everything was in place, Buffy headed downstairs, trying to act as casually as she could as she searched for William.
She didn’t find him. Instead, she walked past the den to see Liam in there with Drusilla. She stopped short, unable to keep passing such an odd sight. Buffy stood in the doorway, waiting until they turned towards her.
“What happened?” she asked, noticing that Drusilla was holding an icepack to her arm.
“William attacked her,” Liam said with tint of disgust in his voice that Buffy had to fight to roll her eyes at. Like that man of all people would disapprove of someone hitting a woman…
Then, Buffy realized exactly what he was saying. William had hit Dru? That couldn’t be right… He wouldn’t—would he?
A tiny voice in the back of her mind seemed to mock her. Like father, like son…
“He was attacking her when I found them. I hate to think what would’ve happened to poor Drusilla if I hadn’t been there,” Liam continued. “Make sure you’re not alone with him, all right, Buffy? I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Buffy would’ve laughed at Liam’s fake concern if her heart wasn’t breaking—and not because her husband was obviously putting the moves on another woman right in front of her. She knew his fake “concern for your troubles” act well. After all, it was what had gotten her where she was today. No, the pain came when Drusilla moved the ice pack, and Buffy could see the marks on her arms and others on her wrists.
Drusilla whimpered. “I don’t know what makes him do this to me,” she said with wide eyes. “And when I’d never do anything to hurt him…”
Like father, like son…
Buffy felt sick. She turned away from the sight of Liam comforting Drusilla and went back upstairs, any desire to see Spike gone now. She supposed she shouldn’t really be surprised, but knowing that didn’t change the way she was feeling now.
She curled up on the bed, too weary even to cry. Buffy realized as she felt it slipping away that a part of her had hoped William could some how save her, that he could find a way to break the hold Liam had on her and take her away from all of this. Seeing him show up again and the way he obviously still wanted her made a tiny part of her heart hold hope again.
In an instant, it had been crushed.
No one was going to save her from this, least of all the son of the man whom she wanted to escape from in the first place. She should have known that. It should have been clear from the beginning.
So why did she feel so betrayed?
Spike was furious with himself. Why in the world he had let that crazy little bitch convince him to stay there was beyond him. Was she playing some sort of game with him? Was it revenge for what he’d done the night before?
He’d gone looking for her after she’d run after him and begged him to stay only to find that she’d locked herself up in her bedroom and refused to come out all day. And to top it all off, Dru had stayed in her snit, whimpering every time she saw Spike and spending the entire day basking in Liam’s over-attention.
Spike knew she was doing it to hurt him, and while it did that, it also pissed him off. Mostly pissed him off. He didn’t believe for a second that Drusilla would actually go as far as to sleep with Liam, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch her so blatantly flirting with his own father.
He knew what he’d done with Buffy was wrong, but he was convinced what Dru was doing was much worse.
Yet he was used to her tantrums, and knew, soon enough, she’d come back around, do things that made him forget all about how angry he’d been at her in the first place.
Thankfully, everyone else in the household was asleep now, giving Spike some time alone. He’d gone into the den, the only light in the room the blinking red and green glow from the Christmas tree and the blaze at the tip of his cigarette. “Merry bloody Christmas,” he muttered as he flicked the end of the cigarette, ash going down into his empty glass.
He didn’t know she was there until she made a noise, a soft, almost inaudible sound that took him a moment to even realize he’d heard. Spike looked up slowly, meeting Buffy’s eyes across the dark room.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Buffy turned, ready to flee.
Spike didn’t let her go. He pushed his cigarette into the bottom of the glass, then let it fall to the floor, running after Buffy and stopping her with a hand around her arm.
“Get off of me!” Buffy yelled, struggling to break free of his grip.
“Then don’t bloody run off!” Spike snapped. “You owe me an explanation, Buffy.”
“I owe you an explanation?” Buffy asked, disbelief washing across her face. “After what you’ve done, I don’t think I owe you anything.”
Spike stepped back and dropped his hand, his expression stricken. She was right. Even if she had been playing some sort of game with him that day, he had been the one to pull her into that closet the night before. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”
Buffy scoffed. “Yeah, sure you are.”
“I bloody well am!” Spike snapped, her response putting him back on the defensive. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, and I’d take it back if I could.”
“I don’t believe you,” Buffy replied. She shook her head. “I don’t know why I ever even expected more from you. You’re just like him.”
Spike sucked in a deep breath, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I am not like him, Buffy. I made a mistake, all right? But I’m nothing like him.”
“A mistake? Like I’m supposed to believe you’ve never done this before?”
At that, Spike paused. Buffy would know he’d never done anything like that to her before… He frowned. “What exactly are we talking about here?”
Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Like you don’t know. I saw what you did to Drusilla.”
Her response made Spike even more confused. “What I did to… What?”
“You’re little fake innocent act isn’t cute, Spike,” Buffy snapped. “I get enough of that bullshit with your father.”
And with that, Spike was back on the defensive, his anger flaring. “Stop comparing me to him! And I haven’t done a sodding thing to Dru, so just get that out of your head right now. She’s the one who’s been a bloody little bitch to me all day.” He stepped back again, pacing for a second before he turned on her, a finger pointed at her. “And you. I don’t know what sort of crap you’re trying to pull either. Running after me, begging me to stay and then locking yourself in your room all day, refusing to see me? Felt like jerking me around for a bit of a lark, did you?”
“A…” Buffy cut herself off with a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, that’s me—cocktease Buffy.”
“Then what the hell was that? And give me a straight answer, because I am sick of being toyed with.”
“Like I’d even want to be in the same room with you!” Buffy yelled back. “I never should’ve come after you, and I wouldn’t have if I’d been thinking clearly.” She stopped, shaking her head slowly. “I came back in here and found your girlfriend with marks on her arms, Spike. Mind telling me where she got those?”
Spike gaped, shocked by what she was accusing him of. He almost defended himself, almost begged her to understand he would never do something like that. But then he felt something inside of him snap, the events of the day pushing him to the breaking point. “Fine. Because I beat her. Is that what you want me to say? I’m an abusive prick, just like dear ol’ dad. Is that what you want to hear, Buffy? Does that make it all right for you to hate me now? For you to treat me like dirt?”
He stalked slowly closer to her, and Buffy backed up, gasping when she felt her back hit the wall. “You want me to be the villain of this piece?” Spike asked, anger flaring in his eyes, making them grow dark. “Would that make it easier? Make it so you wouldn’t have to carry any of the blame for what you did to me?”
“What I did to you?” Buffy asked, trying to sound strong, more angry than afraid.
“You stole whatever shred was left of my innocence, Buffy. Used me, twisted whatever I may have felt for you so you could get off on breaking me.”
Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Spike slammed both of his hands on the wall beside her, making her jump. She was pinned now, and though she could technically slip out under his outstretched arms, she didn’t try.
“That whole summer was a game to you, wasn’t it? Just a way to take away some of those lonely housewife blues.”
“No!” Buffy shouted, the protest coming out automatically. Then, softer, she said again, “No. William, I…it wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it? Why did you do that to me?”
Buffy looked down, unable to take his accusatory gaze. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“That’s not fucking good enough!” Spike shouted. “What you did… What you said… That’s not good enough.”
“I did it because I felt something for you, all right?” Buffy yelled back. “It was wrong, and I didn’t…”
Before she could finish her sentence, his lips were on hers, kissing her with bruising force. Buffy gasped against him before she gave into the kiss, forgetting for the time being that anything else even existed. She reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling roughly at the soft, pale strands as she brought him closer.
Spike growled, his hands trailed down, lifting her up and against the wall. Buffy’s legs immediately went around his waist, pulling him so his body was flush with hers. She ground against him shamelessly, the bottom of her nightgown riding up high.
Spike tore his mouth away from hers, moving to nip her earlobe before he begged her in a whisper. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”
“Oh, god…William,” Buffy whimpered. “Want you….want you.”
With an arm around Buffy’s waist for support, Spike undid his jeans one-handed, then reached under her nightgown to rip her panties away. Then, he was thrusting hard, and Buffy cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
“Shh…” Spike reminded her before nipping at her ear again.
“Sorry…” She gasped, bit back another loud moan when he pulled out slightly and pushed back in. “Just…gah…big.”
Spike smirked for a moment, before he felt Buffy’s internal muscles squeezing him, pulling him deeper, and he lost himself in desire.
Buffy held on to him, her nails digging into his biceps. She bit her lip to keep from crying out again as he hit her at the perfect angle over and over again.
To the right of them, the lights of the Christmas tree continued to blink, bathing the couple in green, then red.
Buffy’s body was coiled tightly, on the edge of a precipice, when she heard his voice against her ear again, rich, husky, needy. “Come for me, pet. I want to feel your pussy strangling me, drenching me. Come on, baby…”
There was no way for her to deny his request, even if she had wanted to. She came in a rush, the scream he ripped from her swallowed when his lips covered hers again. She shook uncontrollably as she felt him moan into her mouth, his cock twitching inside of her as he followed her over.
Together, they slumped down to the floor. Spike moved off of her, leaning against the wall, panting. For long moments, neither one of them moved or spoke, until reality came back down around them and Buffy realized what she’d done.
Panicking, she tried to get up, only to stumble on shaky legs. She fell forward, both hands on the ground, and she saw her ruined panties there in front of her. Hot tears stung her eyes and she snatched them up before she stood, taking a moment to get her balance.
She looked at him for only a second, and immediately, she wished she hadn’t. What she saw in his eyes reminded her too much of their first morning after. She wanted to say she was sorry.
She didn’t.
Spike watched as Buffy left him alone.
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