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Chapter 14

“I can explain.”

Three hours after sundown, Spike finally appeared on Buffy’s doorstep, and Buffy was fully prepared to chew him out for making them wait so long.

“It’s about time,” she began, slightly out of breath after racing to beat Dawn to the door. “I’ve been fighting them off for an hour, ever since your last text message. They wanted to send out a freaking search party, Spike. If you tell someone you’re on your way, you should have the decency to—is that blood?”

The scolding Buffy had practiced in her head for the past three hours instantly evaporated, and she stepped forward, closing the door behind her. She didn’t need her mother and sister fussing over him. They’d take one look at his bloody gashes and the torn shirt under his jacket, and fall to pieces.

“Bet it looks worse than it is. I tried to clean up, but--.”

“Are you okay?” His face, his chest, his sloppily bandaged hand… She didn’t know where to look first. She had to take a deep breath. “Spike, what happened?”

Moving in autopilot, she took his face into her hands. She inspected the cut across his cheek. “Your face just healed,” she murmured, running her fingertips along his sharp cheekbones. She smoothed down his hair and assured herself it was merely the polite thing to do. The man couldn’t use a mirror.

Spike swallowed and Buffy found herself struggling against another grin. Not liking him would be easier if his eyes didn’t glisten like that all the time. And did he have to look at her with so much adoration whenever she touched him?

“You haven’t answered my questions. Was it Harmony? What did she send after you this time?”

“A lizard with a razor-sharp tongue.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow and laughed. “A lizard attacked you?”

“Stranger things have happened. Take this very moment, for example.”

“What about it?” She didn’t know what was affecting her more, the stunned look on his face or the desire evident in his voice. She knew at some point that she’d have to snap at him, she’d have to come up with an insult of some kind—she’d have to stop touching him—but she put it all off. “Did you provoke this mean lizard? You must’ve. Look what he did to your new shirt.”

“You noticed it? The shirt?”

“It was hard not to with everybody pointing it out.”

He swallowed again as Buffy nudged the jacket off his shoulders. So squirmy, she thought. Instead of unbuttoning the buttons, she inched the tattered shirt up and up until he cleared his throat.

“It’s, eh, if you’re wondering, it’s not all my blood. I was at the demon bar, you see. I had ordered a drink, and…”

With a wrinkle to her nose, Buffy released his shirt abruptly. Ew! Not Spike’s blood, her brain screamed. Then it continued on more calmly: and when did we decide Spike’s blood wasn’t ew-worthy in the first place? And were you really just about to strip him on your front porch? And why are you so disappointed that he got in a bar fight? Did you really think he’d be held up by something more noble? This is Spike. He chose the bar over you and your family.

“In and out was the plan, but it didn’t pan out,” he continued, somehow reading her mind. “I had no intention of standing you up. You can ask Dawn if you need to; she knew I never stopped thinking about you, not for a minute.”

He motioned past her and Buffy saw Dawn looking at them through the front window. Dawn waved and smiled, probably thinking she had never looked more adorable.

“How long has she been watching? Did she—she saw me pawing at you? Again?” She yanked his shirt down and gestured at his discarded jacket. Before he had it completely on, she grabbed him by the wrist, leading him away from her spying little sister and onto the driveway. “What were you thinking? I’d never let you waltz into my house looking like this. We’d have a major Mom-and-Dawn meltdown on our hands. We need to—I need to clean you up.”

“You need to… You want me to shed my clothes again right here?”

“Wha—no! I want you to-to climb up to my room!”

He blinked, but quickly sobered. “Guess I could do that,” he said, squinting up at her window.

“Of course you can. It’s no big. Climb up, clean up, change, climb back down and walk through the front door like everything’s peachy. It’s a thing I do myself. Often. Just follow me, and…” She glanced down, silently cursing the UC Sunnydale sweatshirt and shorts she had changed into. “Keep your eyes straight ahead and don’t…don’t check out my ass or look under my top, you got it?”

“Got it,” he replied, but not without a muffled laugh. “You need a boost, Slayer?”

“What do you think?”

“Honestly?” He swung his hand a tad, just enough to remind her that she was still holding onto him. When she released him at once, he snorted good-naturedly.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, shooting him a warning glare before starting to climb. Halfway up, against her better judgment, she looked down and noticed his eyes sweeping along her legs. At least she hoped he was only looking at her legs.

Stupid, stupid, she thought as he chuckled from below. You just had to wear nothing under your hoodie, not even a freaking sports bra.

“Slayer, you never fail to surprise me. Just when I’ve got you figured out, you send my head into a bloody tailspin.”

“Be careful or I might knock it clear off.”

“Oooh, scary.”

Reaching her bedroom, she briefly considered pushing him off the trellis to show him just how scary she could be, but instead, she closed her bedroom door, went to the dresser, and scanned through the drawers.

“That wasn’t so bad. So, this way in, it’s well-traveled, you say?”

“I snuck in and out every night while I was in high school. Since I left campus, I’m back at it.”

“And how’s that, being thrust back into the family bosom? Miss your privacy?”

Buffy’s ears perked at the sound of rustling clothes. She looked at him for a second and nearly gasped. A half naked Spike was circling her bed. His muscles rippled as he picked up her stuffed pig, Mr. Gordo, squeezed him like a football, and tossed him aside.

“Uh…” Chill, Buffy, she thought, closing her eyes for a moment. You’ve seen him without a shirt before. You took it off him Tuesday night. Sure, he was practically unconscious and that was before all the kissing—and groping—before you actually knew what it felt like to have your hands on his beefcakey body… “Privacy?” she continued, clearing her throat. “I can’t say I had much in the dorms either.”

“But now you’ve got Little Miss Meddlesome to deal with. Still can’t believe you can’t have a lock on your door. It’s a bloody shame.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Just when she thought she had recovered, she heard her bed squeak. “God damn it, Spike. Please tell me you are not rolling around on my bed.”

“I wouldn’t call it rolling, but I am lounging.”

With her hands full of shirts, she spun around. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Like what you see?” Spike was sprawled out on her bed, propped up on bent elbows, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “Care to join me?”

“Is there a quota on the blood you’d like to shed this month? Tuesday wasn’t bad enough? You picked a bar fight; now you’re going to push my buttons until I beat you to a bloody pulp?”

His smirk died down and he sat up. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “Pet, can we talk?”

“Why?” She didn’t like the change in his voice. Whenever Spike wanted to talk, she had to yell at him, hit him or, as of recently, kiss him. “Okay, so maybe I won’t beat you up right now. I’ll just decline the offer, sternly, and let you off with a warning. Here are your shirt options, alright? You’ve got: the button-down top, the novelty t-shirt that will definitely be on the snug side, or the forgotten baseball-style shirt of the ex-boyfriend.”

“Which ex?”

“The last one. Can you even imagine Angel in something like this?”

“You kept his shirt? Give me that.”

“I didn’t think that’d be your first choice, but,” she handed it over and watched, eyes wide and mouth open, as Spike ripped Riley’s shirt in half. “Spike! I sleep in that!”

“Not anymore. I’d prefer it if you slept naked anyway.”

“Spike, you—you have no say in what I sleep in!”

“Or don’t sleep in,” she added through clenched teeth before he could make a snide remark. “Stop being ridiculous.”

“You know what would make me truly ridiculous? If I pranced about in—what the hell is the pattern on the first one? Are they tiny cakes?”

“It’s sushi. It’s…it’s my yummy sushi pajama top,” she answered, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment. “God! I don’t even know why I’m bothering with you! You’re hopeless! If you want to go downstairs looking all Harlequin-romance novel, be my guest! Let my mom and sister ogle your body. Let them ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over your sexy wounds. But I won’t be a part of it!”

“Sexy wounds?”

“Oh, yeah, the cuts are a real turn on; almost as much as the yellow bruises you had before. They make me all hot and trembly!” She balled up the shirts and threw them at him with a frustrated grunt.

“I take it my wounds aren’t so sexy after all?”

Buffy just glared. Then he stood. He put his arms through her pajama top. He looked her squarely in the eyes as he fastened each button.

You were being sarcastic, she reminded herself. You are not feeling hot and-or trembly. Spike doesn’t make you feel that way. His bedroom eyes have no effect on you. He’s just a big vampire freak buttoned up all cozy in your favorite pajama top. He’s bleeding on it. That’s not sexy. That’s far from it.

“Spike,” she sighed. “You weren’t supposed to wear the shirt right now. You’re still…gross.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked down then smiled at her sheepishly. “Had a point to make, got carried away. If it makes you feel any better, everything’s drying up. That’s vamp-healing for you.”

“Just sit down.” She went to her closet and retrieved a hidden first-aid kit, a few towels, and a bottle of water.

“You’re prepared.”

“I have to be. The family bosom requires it.” She knelt in front of him as he sat on the blanket chest at the foot of her bed. “Here’s a PSA—this blanket chest hasn’t held blankets for a very long time. If I hear one wisecrack--.”

“Save the threats. I’ll be a good boy.”

With a huffed “Yeah right” she unbuttoned the first button of his shirt, paused a beat before working on the remaining buttons at a hurried pace, pushing the flannel off his shoulders, and it was her turn to gulp when her fingers accidentally brushed against his defined pectoral muscle and his flat nipple.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, dabbing the dried blood on his chest with a damp towel. She knew vampires couldn’t get infections, but that didn’t stop her from running an alcohol swab along the cut. “If you must talk, tell me about your lizard friend. I’m guessing he’s a demon. Nothing from the pet shop could do this kind of damage. Even the zoo would be a stretch. Unless it was one of those kimono dragons, but I--.”

“Isn’t komodo?”

“But,” she gave him a pointed look that was far from her worst glare, “I doubt anything of the non-demon variety has a tongue that can slice through flesh.” Finished with his chest, she busied herself with unwrapping the ‘bandage’ on his hand. It consisted of rolled toilet paper and paper towels. “For someone who’s had ‘vamp-healing’ for so long, you should’ve known better than to put this stuff against your skin while it heals itself so quickly. You’re lucky. If I would’ve had to tweeze cheap-ass one-ply toilet paper out of your palm, I would not have been happy.”

His hand twitched in her hold. “Not that I’d ever do that,” she added breathlessly, but it was too late. His eyes were fixed on her, visibly love-struck. “Do you want a band-aid on this?”

“Buffy.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine.

Don’t look at him, she thought. Keep your eyes down.

“Spike, get a grip.”

There was a laugh. Lips touched her brow. His free hand caressed her cheek. Fingers combed through her hair, sweeping it off her shoulder.

The moment he licked her neck, she pushed a fresh alcohol swab into his palm. She almost hissed along with him, suffering from a different kind of sting.

“Look at you, fussing over me…my sweet Slayer with your tweezers, bandages and disinfectant…baby, you’ve got me rock hard.”

“Why? Just—why? Why would you say that?” she grumbled, leaning back onto her heels. “Crude, much?”

“Buffy--.”

“And I’m not fussing.” With a determined plop, she sat next to him on the blanket chest and taped an awkwardly large band-aid across his palm. Holding his chin between her thumb and forefinger, she cleaned his cheek. “I need you—Spike, let me finish,” she ground out when the lusty spark in his eyes brightened. “I need you safe, out of trouble, not bleeding, and not even healing. I need you at your best.”

“Right. For babysitting.”

“No, for me,” she corrected hastily. Then she realized what she had said. “Oh, that isn’t—what I meant to say was…uh…”

“Hey now, don’t strain yourself.” Snickering, he snuck under her sweatshirt. He grinned once she caught his hands, flattening one against her stomach and the other against her side.

“You’ve already got me,” he whispered directly into her ear. “I’m yours.”

“Spike, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“I can’t… Damn it, I can’t worry about you too, okay?”

“Oh, love,” he began tenderly. “Baby, you’ve got no reason to worry about me.”

“No? You’ve been beat up, your place was trashed, your stuff was set on fire and a lizard demon cut you up.”

“Alright, so maybe it’s been a rough week.”

“It’s been three days!”

“Alright, so it’s been three bloody days. It’s nothing to lose your head over.”

She inhaled sharply and he sighed. “I don’t mean to add to your stress, Buffy.”

His thumbs escaped from her hold. They stroked up and down, chipping away at her already-weak resistance.

Buffy took another deep breath. She said his name firmly. She frowned and pulled his hands out from underneath her top.

Before he could look too disappointed, she kissed him squarely on the mouth. It wasn’t a chaste kiss. It was a searching lip lock that would’ve been perfect, but their positioning was all wrong. Right away, she started to move, rubbing her bare legs against his jeans. They moaned in unison when she settled into his lap.

“Spike, we can’t--.”

“Yes, we can.”

He oscillated her hips, grinding her against his elevated zipper over and over again.

No, no, no, she thought, but she hugged her arms tightly around his neck anyway. “Spike. Spike, please… We’ve got to--.”

“Come, I know. I’m working on it. You’re almost there.”

“Am not,” she lied, hiding her face. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was so wrong, but it felt good. Very good. Her shorts were rubbing all the right places, and so was Spike.

“Oh God,” she whimpered, letting out a little sob.

She was on top of Spike. She, the mighty Slayer, was feverishly dry-humping her enemy.

“Buffy, don’t fight it.”

She expected him to touch her then. Her shorts were already bunched as high they would go. He could’ve easily slipped between her legs, but his hands stayed planted on her hips. When they did move, they did nothing but squeeze her to him. He didn’t even try to fondle the bare breasts under her hoodie.

Spike was behaving. It softened her heart, but what an inconvenient time for him to become a gentleman…

“I bloody adore you. Slayer, I love you so much.”

“I know,” she managed to say before he let out a growl. She matched it with another sob. “Shut up, shut up, we’ve got to be quiet.”

She kissed him soundly while her body quaked along with his.

A minute passed, and then it arrived, the moment she’d been dreading. There was a knock on her door and her mother cleared her throat. “Is everything alright in there?”

Buffy flinched but didn’t break away from Spike’s mouth until Joyce knocked again. “Crap,” she whispered. “Maybe if we’re really quiet, she’ll leave.”

“Good plan. Brilliant plan.” Cupping her backside, he kissed her neck and started to rub against her again. Every move he made was slower, more deliberate.

“Spike, this wasn’t what I had in mind. Knock it off.”

Through the door, she could hear her mother’s sigh. “I know you can hear me. Tell me is Spike alright? Buffy, is he hurt? I heard about a fire. Your friend Harmony ransacked his home? She’s a…a vampire? Is this true? Did Spike have anything to do with her becoming one of those things? And—how on earth did you sneak him up to your room?”

“Dawn has such a big mouth,” Buffy grumbled, no longer caring if her mom heard her or not. “Spike’s fine. He didn’t kill Harmony. He didn’t turn her either. Harmony died at graduation. She became a vampire at the same time. She’s his ex, okay? They dated…you know, if you actually consider a string of booty calls as dating.” Instantly annoyed, Buffy grabbed a fistful of Spike’s hair, and pulled, bringing him out of the curve of her neck, putting an end to his kisses. “And Harmony was not my friend.”

“Oh.” Joyce let out a relieved laugh. “For a second I thought Spike might be dangerous.”

“He is dangerous, but not in a traditional or normal way. He can’t bite anyone, remember? He can’t kill humans…he can only pester and harass them until they want to kill themselves.”

“Oh, good, then it’s alright that I set up the guestroom for him. He’s welcome to stay for as long as he needs to, but I’d appreciate it if he slept downstairs and not in your room, Buffy.”

“Mom.” She froze, still clutching Spike’s hair. She wanted to tell her mother it was crazy to even assume he would sleep in her room, in her bed, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“And if he does wander back upstairs during the night, please keep it down. It is a school night.”

“Mom,” she groaned.

Spike cracked a smile.

Buffy looked away.

“If he needs something to sleep in, I have some clothing of Hank’s in the back of my closet.”

“Thank you, Joyce,” Spike answered, his voice silky-smooth. “Can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Oh, it’s the least we can do,” Joyce replied. “Alright, as much as I love standing here, chatting through this closed door, the day is catching up with me and--.”

“Go rest, mom. I’ll send him downstairs in a minute. You can finish visiting. He can eat cold pizza with Dawn while I…do something else.”

Like hide, she finished silently. I’ll run for cover as soon as I get off of Spike—oh my God. I just got off with Spike. I jumped him. I made him come in his pants.

“There’s no reason to be jealous, dear. I said you could have Spike all to yourself once he showed up and I meant it. Dawn and I will give you some privacy…well, as long as you stay quiet. I know you’re an adult, but we have to have some rules in this house.”

Buffy stared ahead as her face flushed, a deep frown on her face. “And the humiliation just keeps coming…”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. Just saying thanks, mom.”
***





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