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Chapter 21


"Hi Riley its Buffy look thanks for the invite and all but I don’t think I will be able to make it to the wedding but I just wanted to say to you both. GO TO HELL"

As Buffy awoke, she became acutely aware of three things: she ached in places that hadn’t ached for a very long time, she felt as though she had had the best sleep she hadn’t had in a very long time and she had had sex with Spike for the first time in a very long time.

Not just had sex, but practically begged him for it. Great, that was just great. She would never be able to live this down with him. Was it not bad enough that she had fuelled his ego with her cries of ‘harder’ and her moans of enjoyment?

She looked over at his sleeping form. He looked peaceful, sated and handsome. She was not blind; he was beautiful and even if she couldn’t see it, she knew exactly what his body felt like.

Intimately.

No, it wasn’t intimate. It had been sex, just sex. His touch did not feel familiar or safe. Not intimate either, when he had looked at her as she came undone beneath him. She did not see softness and vulnerability within his face, didn’t feel care and affection in his touch. She saw nothing and felt nothing, just as she suspected he felt and saw the same. Spike felt nothing for her; she knew that, had known it for a long time. Hell, the only reason they had had sex was that she had begged him to do it. You had to be either dead or as gay as Lorne to turn down a vulnerable woman. Even more so, one who wants to use sex to forget her hurt feelings. Yes, the more she thought about what happened between them, she realized it was nothing. Nothing more than a lapse of judgment on her part and a taking advantage on his.

Would Spike take advantage of her like that?

As much as she would have liked to ask Spike that question, she didn’t think Angel would like to know the answer. As she heard his keys jiggle into the front door lock, she made a hasty retreat from Spike’s bed into her own.

***

“Spike, Spike.”

Spike was having one of the best dreams of his life; he was lying on the beach, warming himself under the suns rays. He looked up to see Buffy in the water, playing in the waves.

She opened her mouth and said:

“Spike, if you don’t wake up in the next three seconds, I’ll pour this water over your head.” Suddenly, his vision of Buffy turned into...

“Angel, what the hell are you doing in my room?” He sat upright as he spoke trying both to hide Buffy in his bed and cover up his own nakedness. He moved the covers to shield her, but he needn’t have bothered as the space beside him was bare and cold. Buffy had left and he ignored what that thought did to his insides. Turnabout was fair play, he guessed. He had done it to her once before and now it was time to get him back.

“What’re you doing asleep at four in the afternoon, naked, with Fiona Apple on the stereo?” A fair enough question to ask, but somehow Spike didn’t think “shagging your sister into next week” was the answer he was after.

“I’m tired. Big take over and all that rot; anyways, great that we had this chat but I really need to take a shower.” He started to get up from the bed.

“Take a number. Buffy is already in there,” Angel said, as he walked out of his room. “What the hell is all this mess in the lounge room?”

But Spike wasn’t paying attention to the mess; he was trying to figure out the mess that was his relationship with Buffy.

****
An hour later, when he had emerged from the shower, he was still no closer to figuring it out. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He ran his hands through his hair, ridding himself of the excess water in it as he tried to collect his thoughts.

Thoughts that had been jumbled from the moment Angel had woken him up. Buffy had been no help straightening them out, as she stepped out of the bathroom and right into him.

“Bathroom’s free,” she murmured, as she walked past him, head down, not daring to look him in the eye.

“Thanks, love.” That seemed to get her attention as her head snapped up and she looked at him as though she was trying to figure out what he was on about.

Good luck with that one, because the truth of the matter was he had no clue. He could tell you for sure that when he had walked into the apartment this afternoon, sleeping with Buffy was the furthest thing from his mind. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; it wasn’t like, say, climbing Everest, which, in the scheme of things, was the furthest thing from his mind.

He was a man, after all, and he would be betraying his race if he didn’t come clean about wanting to sleep with Buffy. He had done it once a long time ago and ever since she had stormed back into his life, snippets of their time together in the years previous would come to him. He was annoyed by it, not because she was annoying, although she was. It was more that the feelings of longing and regret the memories brought bothered him more than they should.

And not that he was taking notes or anything, but the sex between them was better than he remembered, and he had remembered plenty in the past few years. There had been many women in his life but it seemed that it always came back to Buffy.

Maybe that was what today was about. She was finding in him what he had found in her all those years ago. A touchstone, a way of knowing, that there was something else in life besides the pain that they were feeling. They were helping each other to understand that things would be okay.

Spike sighed as he walked back into his room; his room still smelled of her perfume. Her perfume and sex. The sex that they had had all afternoon. Sex that he would very much like to have again but he knew that was never...

“Spike.”

He looked up and saw Buffy sitting crossed legged on his bed.

“We need to talk.”

...ever going to happen again.





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