Four
Bury me softly in this womb
I give this part of me for you
Sand rains down and here I sit
Holding rare flowers in a tomb... in bloom
Down in a hole and I don't know if I can be saved
See my heart I decorate it like a grave
You don't understand who they thought
I was supposed to be
Look at me now a man who won't let himself be
Down in a hole, feeling so small
Down in a hole, losin' my soul
I'd like to fly,
But my wings have been so denied
Down in a hole and they've put all the stones in their place
I've eaten the sun so my tongue has been burned of the taste
I have been guilty of kicking myself in the teeth
I will speak no more of my feelings beneath
Down in a hole, feeling so small
Down in a hole, losin' my soul
I'd like to fly,
But my wings have been so denied
Bury me softly in this womb
(Oh I want to be inside of you)
I give this part of me for you
(Oh I want to be inside of you)
Sand rains down and here I sit
(Oh I want to be inside of you)
Holding rare flowers in a tomb... in bloom
(Oh I want to be inside)
Down in a hole, feelin' so small
Down in a hole, losin' my soul
Down in a hole, feelin' so small
Down in a hole, out of control
I'd like to fly,
But my wings have been so denied
London, present day
“D’you remember that night?”
Her fingers trailed lightly over his bare chest, a hesitant, featherweight whisper of skin on skin.
Spike shifted, moving his head to glance down at her. “Which night, kitten?”
A half smile crept over her features and she blew out a breath, watching his skin react.
“That night in the park.”
He rolled to his side, hooking her thigh up over his waist. “Mmm. Don’t think I’ll ever forget that one.”
“Really? Why?”
His turn now, to trail tender fingers over her flesh, the curve of her breast calling to him. “Never met someone like you before, so . . . like a fragile . . .” He smiled, dropping a quick kiss on her nose. “Like those roses, yeah? Fragile an’ wild; stronger than they look.”
Hazel eyes caught his, understanding dawning. “That’s why you only bring me wild flowers.”
That crooked smile she loved so much crossed his lips and the twinkle in his eyes was only for her. Her thumb crossed his lips, stalling his next words. “The only reason I’m strong is because of you.”
“Not true, baby.” His deep voice rumbled between them, filling her insides until she nearly burst. “You’re stronger than you think. You were strong before I met you, an’ you would’ve survived.”
Closing the narrow distance between them, she wrapped her hands around his arm, tethering them together. “Maybe.”
She was in no mood to argue with him. She wanted what she had, his arms curled around her, his hands warm on her skin. Her body leaning into his, safe, secure in his arms. “Wanna know what I remember?”
“Always.”
“I remember thinking you were dangerous, that you had this temper that was just waiting to explode. . . but that you wouldn’t hurt me. That you would somehow take care of me.”
Fingertip patterns wove through the curls at the nape of his neck and he stretched like a big cat, his whole body moving under her touch.
“Sounds crazy, right?”
“Not really, sweetheart. I wouldn’t ever hurt you. An’ I wasn’t angry with you, kitten, was angry for you.”
“I got that.” She leaned closer, her breasts flattening against his chest. “I still feel safe with you.”
His hand slipped down around her ass, dipping his fingers into her core. She undulated, writhing around him. Buffy leaned closer, her mouth hovering just over his skin, her breath finding a home in his pores. “And I thought you were gorgeous.”
A low chuckle greeted her admission and he rolled to his back, guiding over him. “You were breathtaking. Fierce, fragile. . . ethereal. Wanted to protect you from everythin’. Wanted to keep you safe.”
She took him in, clenching around his hard length as his words washed over her. Her hands grasped his shoulders, steadying herself as he arched up, thrusting deep.
“You do, Spike.”
He stilled his movements, his hand reaching out to cup the side of her face. “I love you.”
Teardrops welled in her eyes, her heart constricting. She trembled, holding back the sobs threatening. Her voice was thready, heavily laden with all that she tried to show him. “I love you, too. So much.”
He flipped them, cradling her small form in his arms. “Think I’ve loved you since that night.”
Sunnydale, two years prior
Somehow, they ended up back where it all started for them, near the roses. Buffy trailed her hand through the petals and leaves, her head down.
Spike watched her, his eyes following the marks her hand made. She was so small next to him, yet he sensed the strength she banked, hid from the world.
“How come you’re here?”
Damn good question, kitten. ‘M not really sure myself. “Went to highschool here, for a bit.”
“Really? When?”
“More ‘an ten years gone, pet.”
She turned to look at him, an assessing look in her eyes. “You don’t look that old.”
He lifted his shoulder in dismissal. “Didn’t finish. Left before I was seventeen.”
“How come?”
Because, kitten, I’d been used, abused, raped and sodomized by someone I should’ve been able to trust. . The words hung there, in his head and Spike fought them back. Instead, he gave her the same answer he gave everyone. “Had my reasons.”
“Must have been good ones.” She angled away from him, unwilling to let him see her own emotions. “I wanna leave here.”
“Why’s that?”
Unlike most people, who let his answer stand, she threw it back at him. “I have my reasons.”
For once, Spike didn’t hold back. “Like what happened the other night?”
Buffy froze, fear clenching in her muscles. She couldn’t think, couldn’t . . . wouldn’t turn around to face him. Finally, whisper soft and heartbroken, she spoke one word, “Yeah.”
He didn’t speak, didn’t push her for more. So because of that, Buffy felt compelled to fill the silence.
“It wasn’t an accident.”
Spike waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he murmured softly, “I never thought it was.”
“I hate him. Hate her, too. I wish. . . “ Her voice drifted off, the wish unspoken, unbirthed in her throat. A barking sob broke from her and she crumpled, caving in on herself.
She didn’t flinch when his arms caught and held her, instead curling into his hold. “I’ve got you, kitten.”
Tears soaked his shirt, tears she’d fought so hard not to shed in front of anyone else. Darla never saw her tears. He never saw them. She wouldn’t . . . refused to give either of them more of herself.
He lifted her up, cradling her gently in his arms. “Shhh, let it out, sweetheart. Jus’ let it out.”
Long minutes she wept, her head tucked beneath his chin. Her body shook with the force of her angry grief, hiccuping for lack of air.
Buffy mumbled an apology into his chest, her fingers tightening around the hem of his shirt, rubbing softly. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to be.” His voice was deep, rusty with some emotion she’d never dreamed to hear from anyone else. “You needed it.”
Salty snot pooled in her nostrils and she sniffled. “I guess. I don’t cry a lot.”
Her broken arm lay heavily across their bodies, a reminder of why she was crying. Spike stared at the fiberglass, wondering if he dared speak of anything further. Before he could form words, she was speaking again.
“I don’t know why you’re here, helping me. I guess it doesn’t matter, right?” Not waiting for his answer, she kept on, her voice soft and aching. “I have to get away. I can’t let this happen anymore. I just don’t have anywhere to go. . . I tried once before. He found me.”
Her head dropped onto his shoulder, resting just above the steady thump of his heart. “Is there anyone you trust?”
The laugh that emerged was bitter and ironic. “You.”
That surprised him. He’d expected someone else. . . a teacher, but then, no. . . if whom he suspected was the culprit, a teacher wouldn’t be of any help. “Why me?”
“Coz you aren’t from around here. You don’t . . . you saved me.”
“Oh, kitten.”
“My mom died when I was eleven. My sister was already married, you know? So I came to live with her. They should’ve just let me go into a foster home. I might have been safer.”
Buffy wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t. It was easier to get this out without watching his reaction, without seeing the moment she disgusted him and he wanted to get away.
“I know it’s not me. He’s the sick fuck. But. . . “ She hung her head, unable to continue.
Spike shifted, his arm tightening around her. “Not your fault at all, sweetheart. Not your fault.”
“I kicked him once. That was. . . that was the first time he beat me. He . . I broke my wrist and got a black eye.”
Oh, God. . . I’m gonna kill that fucker, so help me. I’m gonna. I can’t. . . He tried forming words, something to help her, but nothing made sense, nothing would help her. Spike held on, his hand running up and down her back, the touch soft and soothing.
“Can I just stay here, like this?”
That he could answer. “As long as you need to, kitten.”
Sunnydale, twelve years prior
He was late.
Late was bad. Very bad.
No one was left the in the showers. Everyone else from the team had long since departed. Will grabbed his sneakers, toeing off his cleats without untying them. Panic slowed his movements, fear threading through his muscles. Gotta leave, gotta get out ‘f here.
The slam of a door behind him had him jumping, but when no further noise sounded, he relaxed.
“Running late, William?”
Oh, shit. . . no. Not now. Please, just leave me alone and lemme go. . . please. . .
“My mum’s waitin’ on me.”
“Didn’t see her car.”
Will refused to look up, refused to acknowledge the monster’s presence. “She’ll be here any moment.”
The quaver in his voice gave him away, and like the predator he was, Liam Angelus was on him.
“Shouldn’t lie, William. It’s not a good thing to be doing.”
Trying his best to ignore the hulking figure at his back, Will continued stuffing his books into his backpack. He could feel warm breath on his neck, the big body crowding him, shifting closer and closer.
It was almost a relief when that big hand reached out to touch him. William stilled, only his pounding, terrified heart moving. No . . no. . . no. Please.
“Turn around, Will.”
He froze, unable to move. Unable to obey. Unable to flee.
Part of him longed to strike back, to be strong enough to fight, to avoid what he knew was . . . .
“Turn around, Will, or I’ll make it harder on you.” A low, evil chuckle broke the sudden, suffocating silence. “I’m gonna make it hard for ya, any way, lad, so just turn around. I’d like to see your face when I’m holding you.”
That voice meant blood.
Meant pain.
Disengaging his brain, Will turned.
Angelus was ready for him; hard, pulsing cock in hand. “Clothes off, boyo.”
Eyes closed, Will followed the orders. Experience had taught him not to disobey, not to fight what too often ended up making him bleed. Better to just. . . . a small, tiny part of him died inside, every time.
Shriveled, broke, shattered.
Wailed against the wrongness of it all.
Ached to turn the tables and make him suffer. To make him be the one to bleed.
With a deceptively gentle hand, Angelus removed Will’s glasses, putting them aside.
That same hand reached down. . . . Captured his fear-shrunken penis and worked it into arousal.
“Much better.”
Warm spunk covered Will’s erection, Angelus rubbing it into his skin. “You’re mine, boyo, always will be. No one else will want you, knowing what I’ve done to you. Knowing I’ve had my prick up your pretty little arse, made you cum for me.”
Something in him broke, for the last time. A litany rolled through his head as Angelus worked his body. Never again, I’m leavin’ . . . not one more time. . . never, never, never. . . . not gonna let ‘im touch me. . . .
He retched, vomiting against the side of the building, leaving his cleats and uniform in the mess.
Nothing mattered, he wasn’t returning.
William was done with this place.
London, present day
“I’ve loved you since that night, too.”
She held onto him, knowing he’d gone someplace still. Somewhere inside himself that was still that frightened, scared teenager.
“Spike?”
He didn’t answer her for long minutes, his eyes blank and hooded, staring off into nothing. Tears pooled in her eyes, not for her own pain, but for his.
He rarely spoke of what happened, rarely let it affect him. Rarely let himself remember, preferring to leave it locked away.
“Will?”
This time her voice caught his attention, his eyes closing briefly before focusing on hers. “Oh, Will.”
Buffy’s fingers covered his cheek, wiping away the light sheen of invisible tears. “I do love you. So, so much.”
He smiled, sad, wistful. “Love you with all m’heart, kitten.”
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.” He nuzzled her cheek, his breath snuffling out, wafting over her ear. “The world, if you want it.”
“I just want you.”
He smiled against her skin. “You’ve got me.”
Buffy wriggled in his arms, aligning their bodies. Her hips rose up, thighs curling around his waist. “We’ve got each other.”
Spike leaned on his elbow, his eyes drinking in her expression. “What?”
She was smiling, her eyes twinkling in the dark, a secret lying in their depths. Her arms wrapped around him, anchoring him to her. “Don’t wig on me.”
“Kitten. . . . “
“We’re gonna have a baby.”
“What?” Spike froze. “Buffy?”
“Don’t. . . Spike, look at me.” Her hand held onto his cheek, pulling his face down to hers. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”
Baby. . . a baby. . . Our baby.
“Sweetheart?”
“It’s okay. I want you. . Spike, I love you so much. This is just. . . “ Her smile wavered a bit in the face of his shock, but she plowed on, willing him to understand. “It’s a little me and you. It’s hope. Our baby is hope.”
Raw and vulnerable, his whiskey soft voice threaded through her, melting her insides. “Ours. . . “
Spike knelt up, his hand and eyes falling on her belly. Fingers splayed over the still flat surface as he peeked up at her. He tried to speak, tried to say something. . . anything, but for once, words failed him.
His hand trembled, breath caught in his throat and a harsh, aching sob gurgled up. Crystal tears fell onto her skin, pooling there.
“Hope?”
to be continued/i>