The temperate weather had turned ugly by the next morning. Rain came down in droves from menacing black clouds and the sky was a bruised dark purple. Buffy stared intently at the large picture window in her room, watching as the water ran down the glass making the sky outside appear blurry.
It was fitting, the weather turning like this. After last night, she was sure that she had ruined whatever chance she had with Spike. God, he must think she was out of her mind.
Why not? That’s what she was thinking.
Glancing at the alarm clock, she sighed. It was only seven o’clock and there were still a couple of hours to go before they had to leave for Phoenix. She needed to get up, but the prospect of running into Spike had her glued to the bed sheets.
He had every right to be angry with her. For the first time, she was beginning to let the blame lie with the right person, herself. She was good at playing the blame-game, making excuses, and generally not taking credit for any of her own mistakes. But if she wanted things to work between her and Spike, she would have to start taking responsibility for her stupid actions and cruel words.
Did she want it to work between them? Did she want an actual relationship with him?
Yes.
Denying the chemistry between them would be impossible at this point. Too much had gone on between them to ignore and Buffy wasn’t sure she wanted to even if she could.
What was that they said about opposites attracting? Spike was her opposite in almost every way. He was untamed, wild, and acted purely by emotion alone. Her life was dictated by reason and control, but more than anything, she wanted to be like him.
She was tired of being guarded and closed-off. Since her mother passed away, she’d had to keep her emotions in check for Dawn. Buffy had become the adult, the provider and she tried hard to remain cool and confident so Dawn would have that stability in her life.
It wasn’t long before she found herself losing that part of her that was so uniquely Buffy that she wasn’t sure who she was anymore. Before her mother’s death, she was wild and full of spirit. She was the type of person that people flocked to, wanted to be friends with, and looked up to.
If only Spike could have met that Buffy instead of the bitter woman she had become. He would have loved her.
Frowning, she threw back the covers. He had said last night that he loved her. When she had denied his declaration, it hadn’t been because she didn’t believe that he could have fallen in love so quickly, but that he couldn’t have fallen in love with her. How could he ever love her? She had been horrible to him and worst of all, she had known she was doing it.
He deserved more than that.
She went to her suitcase and pulled out a pair of jeans, throwing them on quickly. The need to get out of this damned hotel room was overwhelming. She didn’t know where she would go, but she had to get out before she went crazy.
Peering out into the main room, she noticed that Spike’s door was still closed. It was hard to say if he was awake or not, but either way, she would be able to slip out without him even noticing. She padded across the room and slipped on her shoes, then grabbed her purse, and was out the door.
She made her way down to the casino floor, not sure if she was just going to wander around or venture outside. The casino was fairly busy considering the time, but Buffy could tell that most of the people were leftover players from the night before, so transfixed on the slot machines that they had stayed up well past sunrise to try their luck.
They had a machine for everything it seemed. I Dream of Jeanie, Wheel of Fortune, video poker, keno, The Beverly Hillbillies, Texas Tea…the list was endless. All of them were outrageously lit up with blowing whistles and crazy voices. It was distracting to her so it was no wonder people spent hours plunking money in these machines without any thought put into how much they were really spending.
Walking past a casino bar, she noticed someone who looked very familiar. After a closer look her suspicions were confirmed. Oliver.
“Have you been here all night?” She asked as she took a stool next to him.
He glanced at her, but didn’t seem all that surprised to see her. “Mostly.”
“You don’t look drunk.”
“That’s because I’m not, sweets. Just killing some time.”
“Why aren’t you killing time in your room, maybe getting some sleep before we have to hit the road?”
His green eyes narrowed and he studied her for a minute. “What’s with the twenty soddin’ questions? Didn’t know you cared.”
“I…” She couldn’t finish what she was about to say. It would have been a lie to say that she had cared. Fact of the matter was she wasn’t sure she liked Oliver very much. But she did have to admit, she was pretty curious about him. “Just curious.”
Oliver shrugged. “Fair enough, I guess.”
“So why-”
“Because I invited a flock of women up to my room last night and I don’t feel like kicking them all out,” he replied nonchalantly.
“Uh, this might be a stupid question, but why aren’t you up there…um, having a good time?”
“Bored with it,” he told her. “I’ve been doing this for years, lovey. After a while, it starts to get old.”
Uh, okay. That was something new. She hadn’t ever met a celebrity who had grown tired of the perks, but Oliver wasn’t the typical rockstar celebrity anyway so it made some sense. She guessed.
“You could just stop inviting strange women up to your room. That might help,” she suggested.
He looked at her like she had grown a second head for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Yeah, that’ll happen. Got a reputation to keep tarnishing, you know.”
Did that mean that it was all an act? Was he purposely trying to make himself look like the big bad rockstar? If she wasn’t confused before, she sure as hell was now.
“You want a drink, sweets?”
“Oh, uh, maybe just some water,” she replied.
Shaking his head, he waved the bartender over.
“Can I get you something, sir?” The bartender asked.
“Yeah. I’ll have another Stoli and tonic and the lady will have a…” Oliver glanced at her, giving her the up and down before turning back to the bartender. “Toasted Almond.”
“Oliver! I said I just wanted water,” Buffy admonished.
He waved her off. “Buggar that! If you’re sitting with me, you’ll have a drink. Don’t worry, it’s a girly drink. You’ll like it.”
She wasn’t a big drinker. A glass of wine and she was buzzed for hours, anything more than that and she would be hugging the porcelain alter.
The bartender set the drinks in front of them and Buffy eyed hers wearily. It looked safe enough.
“What’s in it?” She asked, playing with the two red straws in her glass.
“Nevermind, just drink up.”
Leaning down to the glass, she took a sip of the caramel-colored drink. Hey! “Hey! This is really good,” she told him.
“I told you,” he replied. “You know, I’m not a half-bad bloke once you get to know me.”
“Yeah, well, if you didn’t act like such an ass all of time, I probably would have gotten to know you a lot sooner.”
“If I didn’t act like an ass, you’d be all over me.”
Buffy’s eyes went wide. “As if! You are so not my type, besides, I’ve got Spike.”
Oliver’s expression went somber all of the sudden. “Is that so? Well, why, pray tell, are you down here with me then when you could be upstairs snogging your honey-bear?”
“I…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. What happened? You two seemed hot and heavy yesterday,” Oliver said.
Buffy sighed loudly. “I screwed up. Really screwed up.”
“Hmm. You see, though, that’s the great thing about Will. He’s good at forgiving people.”
“I don’t think I deserve it.”
Oliver’s black brows furrowed together. “I’m sure it wasn’t all that bad. What did you do? Play hide and tickle with the bellboy?”
Buffy laughed. “No, nothing like that.”
“Well, he’s forgiven Dru for worse then. You know that as well as I do.”
“Yeah,” she said softly.
“You want some advice, then?”
Want? No. Need? Absolutely. And who better to give her a little guidance than the one person who might know more about Spike than anyone.
“Yeah, I would.”
Oliver turned on his stool so that he was facing her, reaching out to spin her so that they were face to face. He grabbed her hands and held them carefully in his as if to make what he was going to say easier to take.
“Will is an all or nothing kind of a man, Buffy. You can’t keep him in the dark forever. He loves you, but it’s twisted, you see. All he knows is Dru and he’s trying to play the same hand with you that he did with her. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, but he doesn’t know that.”
“So what am I supposed to do then?”
“Buffy, you’re a bright girl. I’m sure you’ll figure that out all on your own,” he told her.
What he said made a lot of sense, just not the kind of sense that she could formulate into a good strategy. She had known it wasn’t going to be easy and yet, when Oliver had offered his advice, she almost believed he would have all the answers. And maybe he did, but he wasn’t telling her.
“We should really get packing. We’ve got to leave soon,” Buffy said, suddenly needing to change the subject.
Oliver groaned. “Uh, don’t remind me. I still have some damage control to do.”
“Do you want me to, um, help you?”
“You’d do that?” Oliver’s eyebrows rose in mild shock.
Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, why not? I’ve been told I’m good at bossing people around, so maybe I can be of some use.”
“Alright, let’s go then.”
Oliver dug into his pocket and paid for their drinks before sliding off the stool. He grabbed her hand and led her across the casino floor to the elevators. As the elevator made its climb up to the top floors, Buffy couldn’t help but notice that Oliver seemed a little nervous.
“Are you okay?”
“Look, sweets, I should probably warn you that it’s not going to be pretty in there. That there might be some not-so-legal substances involved and-”
“It’s okay. Really. I worked for Dru, trust me, I’m no stranger to that stuff,” she reassured him.
Dru partied hard. Most nights she could be found boozing it up with the gang of drugged out fakes she called friends. Buffy had become quite good at caring for Dru after her nightly benders. It was the reason she knew what to do with Spike when she’d found him half-dead on the floor that morning not so long ago.
And it didn’t surprise her that Oliver was living the same sort of lifestyle. He seemed like one of those die-hard, rock-it-’til-I-meet-my-maker types. Difference between him and the rest of the rockstars she’d met was that Oliver seemed to know that what he was doing wasn’t healthy. But why he continued to do it, she was still a little baffled by.
They walked down the hall to his room and he slid the keycard in the slot. The door beeped open and she followed him inside.
Holy shit! The place was trashed. Almost worse than Spike’s living room when he had decided to ‘redecorate’.
“Jesus, Oliver,” she whistled out.
“I know,” he replied, shame coloring his voice.
Setting her jaw tightly, she prepared herself. If she had to guess, she’d say her no nonsense act was part mom and part drill sergeant. The perfect blend of disappointment and take charge attitude.
“Alright! Everyone up!” She shouted, kicking the coffee table.
There were a few stirring women, but no one was getting up. Time for another tactic. Walking over to the mini-bar, she grabbed an ice bucket and filled it with cold water.
Stomping over to the first girl, she dumped the water on her, watching as the girl shot up, sputtering and coughing.
“Get out!” Buffy yelled in her ear.
The girl jumped and stared wide-eyed up at Buffy. “W-Wha-?”
“I said, get out!” Buffy grabbed the girl’s arm and dragged her towards the door.
“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know he was married!” The girl was crying and Buffy felt just an ounce of regret that she was doing this.
“I’m not his wife,” Buffy told her.
“No, she’s my mum!” Oliver called out as he was busy flipping the couch back over.
The girl looked incredibly confused. “Huh?”
“Just get out.” Buffy pushed the girl out and slammed the door in her face.
Repeating the bucket/shout method, Buffy got through two other girls before the rest started to stir on their own. Some were angry, others scared, and the rest were just plain clueless. Each one of them, though, got an earful of Buffy and a shove out the door.
After the last one was kicked out, Buffy slumped against the door. “What the hell were you going to do with thirteen girls?”
Oliver stood up straight from his trash collecting. “There were only five when I left.”
“Five?! What were you going to-”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
Er, not really. She could kind of guess what he had intended to do with five women and knowing Oliver, he would have gone into great detail if she let him.
“No. That’s okay. I don’t want to know.”
“Good choice, lovey.”
“So, you’re going to clean this up then?”
Oliver smirked. “Sure, mum. I’ll make sure my room’s tidied, my homework’s done, and my arse is wiped. I’ll be a good boy.”
Two could play at this game. “Better be or I’ll be back to punish you.”
“Ah, please do,” Oliver replied, his green eyes glittering emerald.
Buffy frowned. She really hadn’t meant it that way. God, that would really suck if Oliver started to like her. Spike was a jealous man as it was and the tension was already thick enough between him and Oliver.
“Oliver, I hope you don’t think-”
“Nope. Your virtue is quite safe with me, sweets. Just teasing you.”
How did he always know what she was going to say? It was seriously creeping her out at this point.
“Right, uh, I guess I’ll just be off then.”
Oliver nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Okay. See you downstairs,” she said as she opened the door and started out.
“Hey, Buffy,” he called out after her.
Poking her head back in, she waited for him to say what he needed to say.
“Thanks.”
Buffy smiled. “No problem.”
Spike stirred slowly at the movement on his bed. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see Buffy sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“Buffy?”
“Hi,” she said softly, waving.
“Is there somethin’ wrong, luv?”
His brain was still slow from sleep and he was trying hard to comprehend what was happening. Why was she in his room?
“No. I mean, maybe. I don’t know.”
His head was throbbing and he brought a hand up to rub at his temple. Slowly, he sat up, making sure that the sheet was wrapped around his hips. As much as he loved seeing her sweet blush whenever he did anything blatantly sexual, this was not the time.
“I’m confused. Is there somethin’ wrong or not?”
She bit at her lower lip and Spike stifled a groan. Despite the huge argument they’d had last night, he couldn’t help but to react to her. There wasn’t anything that would dilute the sexual charge that sparked between them.
“Well, I guess that depends on you.”
“Me?”
Bloody hell, his head hurt and these riddles were not helping. Spit it out, you loopy bint.
“Do you still want to be with me?”
His eyes popped open at that. “What?”
“I mean, if you don’t, I completely understand because I was so horrible last night and I get why you would never want to see me again even though I really hope that’s not true because I really want to be with you and I know that I’ve confused you with all of my flip-flopping, but I’m trying to be better about knowing what I want and I hope you’ll give me a second…well, actually, this is more like the fifth chance, but-”
“Buffy, please stop.”
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I’m babbling, huh?”
A faint smirk curved at one end of his lips. “Just a bit.”
Moments passed in silence and they just stared at one another.
“So, do you still want to be with me?” Buffy finally asked after the very uncomfortable pause in the conversation.
He had known the answer to that even before she’d asked it the first time. Before she had ever stepped foot in his room. Even as they fought last night, he had known the answer to that.
It was true, he was a damn fool, obviously never learning from his mistakes. His head kept screaming, push her away, she’ll only hurt you. But his heart…his heart called out to give her another chance. A million chances if he had to. And he would, no matter how many times she stabbed him with her cold words.
“’Til the end of the world. I love you, Buffy. That’s not just gonna go away because we have an argument,” he told her.
Her eyes were filled with unshed tears and she smiled before looking down at the bedspread. “I’m so sorry about last night. I don’t know why I said those things. They weren’t true.”
He took a sharp breath into his lungs. This wasn’t the girl he knew. This girl was open and honest with him. His Buffy would never do that, preferring to keep all of her emotions bottled up and locked away.
“C’mere,” he rasped, holding his hand out for her to take.
Pulling her up, he situated her on his lap, her legs straddling either side of his thighs. He couldn’t help the reaction in his groin and he closed his eyes for a minute to reclaim his control.
His hand dove into her long blond hair and drew her head down so that he could capture her lips with his own. She tasted so sweet, like honey-roasted almonds and home. His tongue slid against hers then brushed over her lower lip.
She moaned, leaning into him, her breasts pressed against his bare chest. His hand reached around to hold her to him and shifted his hips upward. God, she was so hot. He longed to bury himself within her wet, welcoming depths even though he knew she wasn’t ready for that yet.
He rose up and flipped her on her back, settling between her thighs and allowing himself to grind into her. She moaned again, a low, smooth sound of pure want and he felt emboldened.
His fingers slid down her neck to her shoulder, then made the path to one ripe breast. He teased her hardening peak and cupped the full weight of her mound in his hand.
Deepening the kiss, he pressed himself into her. His hand left her breast and traveled south to the waistband of her jeans, sliding between them to unbutton the fastening. She didn’t make any sound of protest as he slid her zipper down.
He abandoned her mouth as he moved down her body, leaving a trail of hot kisses as he progressed towards her hips. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her jeans and he pulled them down and off of her legs.
She wore a pair of simple bikini panties that had little blue flowers on them. They were just as hot as any g-string, in his opinion.
Starting at her navel, he tongued the little indentation, loving the sound of her little mewls of pleasure. He licked a course to the edge of her panties, then took the fabric in his teeth. A growl escaped his chest as he yanked the panties down to her knees.
“Fuck, pet,” he whispered roughly as he gazed in awe at her.
She had kicked off her panties and he took the opportunity to spread her thighs so that she was completely open to him. Her scent was driving him mad, the heady musk permeating the air around them.
Dipping his head, he ran his tongue from bottom to top, swirling around the soft pink pearl of bundled nerves. Her hips jerked and he placed his hands on her abdomen to keep her still. He felt her fingers wrap around his hand as she struggled to hold on as the turbulent sensations shook her body.
“Nobody else is gonna make you feel this way, baby. Not like I can,” he said hotly before diving back down into her soft pussy.
He slid his tongue into her tight passage, tasting the source of the sweet river that flowed from her. She cried out as his tongue began the age-old rhythm of advance and retreat. A finger found her clit and began rubbing in a slow circular motion.
Her hands went to his head, running her fingers through the messy brown-blond curls and holding on tight. Her body began to tighten in anticipation for release and Spike doubled his efforts. His fingers and mouth switched places as his tongue found her clit, sucking on it, and two fingers slid home.
“Oh, Spike!”
Her muscles clenched around his fingers and she wailed out her completion, her fingers tightening in his hair near the point of pain. He continued to pump in and out of her as she came down slowly from her high, shudders washing over her as the aftershocks rolled on.
“Oh my God!” Buffy exclaimed breathlessly as she collapsed on the bed.
Spike smirked at her. “Good?”
She rolled her eyes. “Uh, yeah. Or did you miss the earth-shattering orgasm?”
“No, I caught that part,” he chuckled.
He watched as she sat up suddenly and ran her fingertips over the sharp edge of his cheekbone. “Do you want me to-”
“No. I’m fine. Besides, we really need to get packed up. It’s already after nine,” he told her, noticing the disappointment in her face.
Yeah, he was a little disappointed too. But it was true; they did have get packed up. The real reason, though, was that he was not going to allow her to accuse him of pushing her for sex. When she wanted to take it further, she would have to take the initiative.
He shifted uncomfortably as his cock hardened even more at the sight of her flushed and spent. Damn, this was going to be the death of him.