Chapter Nine
Several moments later, Buffy broke the kiss for air, gasping as she stared at Spike. “Weren’t we arguing just now?”
It took Spike some time to process her words, but when he did, he grinned. “Yeah, but this is more fun.” He leaned in for another kiss, his hands sliding around to cup her bottom.
Buffy pushed him away. “No. We need to talk this out.”
He sighed and released her, turning away and running his hands through his hair. “Can’t you just trust me?”
“I trust you,” Buffy replied, slowly. “But you’re being completely irrational about not wanting help from the others. You know something that you’re not saying. Why won’t you tell me?”
He looked back at her, anguish in his eyes, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Why do I ever do anything, Buffy? For you.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“I can’t tell you everything,” he said, taking her hand and leading her over to a large rock. They sat down, fingers still interlaced. “I don’t know everything. Can’t bloody remember… been trying not to. Just wanted to enjoy my time here with you, you know?”
Buffy nodded, squeezing his hand in encouragement. “Go on.”
“I… lied about what happened to me after I—after I died. Told you where I was. That blankness, that… grey, sitting and wanting to get back to you. That’s true. But there was something—” He paused, searching for the words. “No, someone else there. I can’t remember who. Or what. They spoke to me, read my mind or something, asked me what I wanted most.” He smiled, raising a hand to tuck a strand of Buffy’s hair behind her ear. “And I got it.”
Neither spoke for several moments, though Buffy felt more certain than ever that she should ask Giles and Willow for help. If there was a demon of some kind involved, perhaps wherever it was that Spike had been—wherever he was being pulled back to—was simply another dimension. “I’m mad that you lied about where you were, Spike, but I still don’t understand why we can’t get help with this. We’ve dealt with dimension-hoppers before; sorting this out should be a cinch for Willow.”
“She can’t do it, pet.” He gripped her hand so tight, she thought that his fingertips would bruise her. “I was selfish… I just wanted to see you again, even if it meant…” He broke off, his teeth gritting in frustration. “This is too bloody hard!”
“Spike—” Buffy placed her hand on his cheek, stroking his skin, brushing the pad of her thumb across his lips. “Just tell me.”
“The thing—demon or whatever—said I could come back to you, have a little more time with you. Made a deal, yeah? Always knew I was going back there. But if I tried to stay, if I tried to get help… then he’d make it a two-for-one kind of offer.” He swallowed, hard. “The grey’d take you, too.”
Her hand fell away from his face, hanging at her side. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, love. I just—couldn’t help myself. Selfish, like I said.”
“No,” Buffy replied, softly. “I understand why you did it. And I understand now why we can’t ask Willow and Giles to do something. But… what did you do, Spike?”
“What?” Spike frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t make sense that this demon would give you the chance to come back, to see me again, and want nothing in return. They always want something. What did you do?”
“I—” Spike faltered, frowning as he realised for the first time that he didn't remember the demon asking for anything in return. “I don’t know. Oh, God, it’s going to want something.” He looked to Buffy, stricken. “What if—?”
“No what ifs,” Buffy said, firmly. “It’s done. I’m the Slayer, I can handle whatever comes my way.” She ignored the little niggling voice inside her that told her she would have trouble handling Spike’s eventual departure.
He leaned his forehead against her shoulder and Buffy’s resolve began to crumble when she felt his tears soaking through the material of her shirt. “I’m so sorry, love. I should have just left you alone.” He stood up and walked a little way down the beach. “Everything I touch turns to ash.”
Buffy came up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and holding him tight. “Not me.” She kissed the back of his neck. “Never me.”
“I’ve hurt you so much. And I keep on doing it, even from beyond the grave.” He laughed, the sound bitter even to his own ears.
Buffy bit her lip, knowing that there was nothing she could say that would help. She got it now; she knew that she couldn’t get help from her friends. And who knew how long Spike had left with her? Her heart ached as she thought of what he might have exchanged in order to have this time with her, but like she’d said, it was done. She couldn’t dwell on it.
Instead, she turned him in her arms, following his earlier lead and distracting him with a kiss. Spike responded readily, perhaps as eager as Buffy herself to prolong the denial, to forget about everything and just lose themselves in each other.
The kiss turned urgent, and she slid her hands up his chest, pushing his coat off his shoulders and letting it drop to the ground. His shirt followed, and Buffy marvelled at the smooth expanse of his skin, glowing in the early afternoon sunshine.
Pulling away for a moment, she glanced quickly around, thankful that her accommodation had a private beach, a quiet cove with no one else in sight but them. The sea was flat and calm, the sunlight glittering on the surface, lending their surroundings a magical air.
“Buffy?” Spike’s voice broke her from her thoughts and she turned back to him, smiling when she saw that he had spread his duster out on the sand, and was now sitting on it. She heard the question in his voice: asking whether she really wanted to do this now—when they had been through the emotional wringer—and here, out in the open.
She answered by pulling her clothes off, dropping them into a pile at her feet, until she was dressed in nothing but a smile. The light breeze coming in off the sea picked up strands of her hair, tossing them about freely. It caressed her skin and tightened her nipples, and the illicitness of doing this—on the beach, sheltered only by tall cliffs and large rocks—sent tingles and bolts of heat to her core.
Spike lifted his arm, to loop his fingers around her wrist and pull her down to kneel beside him. She quickly divested him of his pants, and threw them aside without a care as he drew her against his body, kissing his way down her neck and across her chest.
When he took a nipple into his mouth, Buffy gasped, arching her back and closing her eyes. Spike sat up suddenly, dislodging her from his lap, and she laughed, lightly biting him on the nose when he rolled over to settle on top of her with a sigh.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Sun shinin’ through your hair like that, skin all alight.”
Buffy let her legs fall open, raising her hips against his hardness and he entered her in one smooth stroke. “You’re not—oh!—not so bad yourself.”
“Love you, Buffy.” He started to move. “Tell me… tell me you do, too.”
“I love you.” Her heart felt too big, too filled with emotion, and it choked her even as she met Spike’s thrusts, spiralling closer and closer to completion. “Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”
Spike buried his head in the crook of her neck, unable to speak,
The noon sun beat down on his back and the sea was a silent voyeur to their lovemaking.
***
Some time later, Buffy jolted awake by the creeping tide tickling her feet. She sat up, shivering. The sun was hidden by a thick covering of cloud, and the wind had picked up.
This time there wasn’t a sudden jolt to her heart. No swift realisation, no sickening dread. She just knew. From the way the air felt different now that he was no longer there, to the strange silence; even at his quietest, Spike radiated energy.
Standing, she began to gather her clothes, allowing herself a small smile when she saw that his were still there too. She picked up his shirt, the well-worn softness a comfort when she drew it to her face, and his scent on the fabric brought tears to her eyes.
She swallowed them down before slipping the shirt over her head. She pulled on her underwear, then her pants, her movements mechanical. Finally, she put on Spike’s coat—that silly, heavy, battered old coat—and wrapped it tight around her body.
She slid her hands into the pockets to stop them from shaking, and her fingers closed around something soft. Withdrawing her hand, she saw that it was one of her hair-ties, a nondescript piece of red ribbon, and it was only when she saw it, saw that he’d kept something so silly, that she finally let herself cry.
-TBC-
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks for all the reviews! I'm happy people are enjoying this fic. This is the penultimate chapter - just one more (and possibly an epilogue, not sure how it'll play out yet) to go. I'm going away on Monday so the next update won't be for a couple of weeks or so. Thank you to Sotia for beta reading! Hope you all enjoy the chapter. :)
Also! Instead of an update on Sunday, I posted a picspam to my livejournal. It combines some images of Lyme Regis in Dorset, where the fic is set, along with some Buffy and Spike pics that fit in with the storyline.
Also! Instead of an update on Sunday, I posted a picspam to my livejournal. It combines some images of Lyme Regis in Dorset, where the fic is set, along with some Buffy and Spike pics that fit in with the storyline.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought by leaving a review. :)