She kissed him.
Right in front of her sister and that obnoxious prat, Harris. She’d walked straight up to him and snogged him senseless! Ha! Spike was certain he’d never forget the look on the whelps face when Buffy declared their relationship for the world to see. Bloody priceless, it was! Chuckling, he darted into the safety of the sewer tunnels and removed his blanket. Not one for subtlety, my girl.
Unfortunately, Spike didn’t make it far before his euphoric high dwindled and his feet lost their forward momentum. Glancing back into the murky tunnel, Spike could easily imagine the scene that was unfolding in Buffy’s kitchen. She seemed so determined, so self-assured, but despite her best intentions, Spike wasn’t fool enough to believe Buffy could so easily dismiss her friends opinions.
Bugger it. I outta go back an’ grab her before they go an’ change her mind. A scowl marred his features, as instinctively, Spike’s hands went in search of his cigarettes, belatedly realising that he’d left his duster at Buffy’s house. Self-righteous wankers are prob’ly fillin’ her head with more of their holier-than-thou bollocks. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll march right in there an’—likely piss her off good an’ proper.
“Bloody hell, I need a smoke.”
It was only the knowledge that Buffy would resent his interference that urged Spike to continue the trek towards his crypt. He could easily picture the two scoobies staging a little intervention on behalf of their confused friend. God forbid either of them admit responsibility for their part in Buffy’s obvious suffering. But then, who cares about the truth, when there’s a convenient vampire scapegoat to focus on?
These unsettling thoughts weighed heavily on Spike’s mind as he emerged into the lower level of his crypt. Cursing the loss of his lighter, he rummaged through his cabinet in search of a box of matches, and after lighting a few candles, sat down on the side of the bed. So much had happened in the space of one night, and two hours’ sleep had done little to help his brain process the information. With a weary sigh, the vampire unlaced and toed off his boots, then lay down to rest his head on the pillow.
A detailed slideshow of last night’s erotic highlights ran through his mind, and Spike chuckled as his lips curled into a lascivious grin. The image of his Slayer, breathless and moaning against him, was accompanied by a familiar tightening in his jeans. Absent-mindedly, Spike ran his hand down his stomach to squeeze his aching erection. A night of unfulfilled longing meant that his problem wasn’t going anywhere soon, and if Spike wanted some relief, he’d have to take matters into his own hands. Literally.
It was with a degree of urgency that the vampire popped the top button of his jeans and tugged down his zipper. Spike released a ragged breath as he wrapped his shaft in his firm grip and proceeded to slide his hand in rough, practised strokes. Within moments, his cock was wet and glistening as he swept his thumb over the belled end on each upwards journey, using the sticky fluid to lubricate his movements. Gasping, Spike arched his neck back into the pillow as an ever-increasing litany of growls and moans fell from between his lips.
Does that feel good, pet? Do you like what I do to you?
He closed his eyes and recalled Buffy’s face as she ground her needy centre against his denim-clad erection—remembering the words she’d whispered in his ear.
Don’t stop... Oh God, Spike. So close... so... Oh!
Buffy’s scent lingered on his clothing, and Spike desperately wished she was there with him now. His hips lifted from the bed, thrusting rhythmically into his hand, as he imagined the feel of Buffy’s fiery body enveloping his length.
You’re so hot kitten... Gonna burn me to ashes, you will.
“Bloody... Fuck yes! That’s it, my scorchin’ little slayer. Gonna fill you up. Make it hurt in all the right places.” Spike’s free hand slid lazily over his chest, pinching his nipples, before continuing southward to cup and squeeze his sac. “God, Buffy... My Buffy... Mine!
I love you, Spike.
With a roar that reverberated throughout the darkened chamber, Spike’s body jerked uncontrollably as thick streams of his release landed on his exposed stomach and clothing. Panting erratically, Spike’s eyes closed in repletion, as he held his softening cock and struggled to catch his useless breath. “Mmm... Just you wait till tonight, love,” he whispered to the empty room. “My little kitty’s gonna be purrin’ by the time ’m through with her.”
Spike chuckled as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and used it to mop up his spendings. Too tired to bother undressing, he tucked himself away, then balled up the soiled garment and tossed it towards the corner of the room to deal with later. With his last vestige of energy, Spike wrestled the sheet from beneath him and collapsed back on the bed. He released a contented sigh and closed his eyes, incapable of removing the silly grin from his face.
“Oh yeah. Once I get you in this bed, goldilocks, you’ll never want to leave.”
Wow. Colour me surprised. As in, not!
Buffy rolled her eyes in annoyance as she heard hushed voices coming from her living room. She’d spent the last hour soaking in the bath and attempting to fall asleep. However, each time she closed her eyes, she was bombarded with images of a certain bleached vampire hottie, and despite her best efforts, Buffy was finally forced to admit defeat. A timely growl of her stomach provided a good excuse to leave her bedroom, but a prevailing sense of dread shadowed her every step as she descended the stairs.
Given the nature of Buffy’s dramatic exit, the scene that greeted her was wholly unsurprising. Willow was seated on the couch, nervously wringing her hands, as Xander paced the room in an obvious state of agitation. Fantastic, thought Buffy. Intervention vibes. Just what a girl needs. As tempting as it was to slip away and avoid the scene that was sure to unfold, Buffy knew this confrontation was inevitable.
“What the hell is she thinking?”
A resigned sigh passed Buffy’s lips as the sound of Xander’s raised voice spurred her into action.
“I don’t know, Xan,” Willow replied. “We just need to—”
Buffy leaned against the doorframe. “Hey, guys.”
A sombre air fell over the young witch as she turned to greet her friend. “Buffy. Hey, how long—um... How are you feeling?”
“Better.” The Slayer decided to play it cool as she breezed into the room. “Not quite Sound of Music better, but a vast improvement. Kinda hungry though... And I could really go for a double-shot of caffeiney goodness.” It was impossible to miss the uneasy glances that shot between her fellow scoobies, and with a deep sigh, Buffy turned to face them, arms folded. “Okay, spit it out,” she said, “You’ve obviously got something you want to say to me, so let’s just get this show on the road.”
Willow’s smile slipped as she patted the sofa cushion. “Why don’t you take a seat? We’d like to... uh... talk to you for a minute.”
Buffy refrained from rolling her eyes as she considered her best friend. These interventions were beyond ridiculous. How had she not realised that before? More importantly, how had she ever allowed them in the first place? The Slayer could feel the resurgence of her anger and resentment despite her composed outwards appearance, and she met the wiccan’s gaze, refusing to back down.
“You know what? I think I’ll stand.”
Surprised, Willow nodded slowly and a small frown formed on her lips. “About what happened last night—”
“Which part in particular?” Buffy asked. “The part where you screwed up another spell? Or the part where you tried to take my memories from me?”
“Buffy, that’s not what I—”
“How about the part where you’re macking on the evil undead?” Xander’s derisive tone filled the air. “What’s up with that, huh? Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?”
“How dare you?” Buffy glared across the room at the incensed scoobie. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Ever the voice of reason, Willow leapt from the couch and attempted to avert the animosity simmering between her two friends. “Okay, I think everybody needs to stop and take a deep breath,” she said. “This is clearly a... awkward situation, but it’s not going to help anyone if we start with the negative.”
Willow aimed a pointed look over her shoulder, and Buffy turned in time to see Xander raise his hands in defeat. “You’re right, Will,” he replied, still staring at the pissed-off slayer. “I’m sorry, Buff, but lately you’ve been so—look. We can’t just stand by and watch you make a huge mistake, okay?”
No, but you can stand by and watch me self-destruct, Buffy thought. Way to get your priorities straight, Xan.
Incredulous, Buffy took in the earnest expressions on their faces and tried to control her emotions. At this point she was torn between laughter and kicking their presumptuous asses. Luckily for them, her mirth won out, and Buffy threw her arms in the air as a hollow chuckle burst from her throat.
“God, this is ridiculous!” Buffy shook her head in disbelief. “I’m so sick of this intervention crap. As soon as I do something that doesn’t meet the scooby seal of approval, you both gang up and tell me how wrong I am.”
“We’re not ganging up on you,” Willow replied. “We’re just trying to help.”
“This isn’t helping! Talk to me and I’ll listen, but I'm through being told what to do. This is my life!”
“We know that, Buffy.” Willow was desperate to regain a sense of control over the conversation. “This isn’t about telling you you’re wrong.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Xander!”
“Oh, come on, Will. Someone has to say something!” Xander folded his arms and turned towards the Slayer. “You’re not thinking straight. Damn it, Buffy. You kissed Spike! You remember Spike, don’t you? The vampire who’ll kill us the first chance he gets?”
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Gee, Xan, paranoid much?”
“God, will you listen to yourself?” Xander stepped forward. “He’s taking advantage of you. Why can’t you see that?”
“Enough!”
“He’s a killer, Buffy.”
“When are you going to understand that my personal life is my business?” Buffy glared at her friend. “I’m sick of your constant interference. Yeah, I care about Spike. So what? In case you’ve forgotten, Xander, you happen to be engaged to a Vengeance Demon!”
“Ex-Vengeance Demon”
“Whatever!” Buffy turned in Willow’s direction. “What about Oz?”
Confusion washed over the redhead’s features. “Wh-what about him?”
“Oh come on, Will. Smart, musical... slight case of the big and hairys around the full moon. Ring any bells?”
Bloody hell this feels good... and Oh my god! Since when did I start thinking like Spike?
Buffy glanced between their faces, feeling her anger rise at the blank expressions that greeted her. “I have never judged either of you or interfered with your private relationships. So what gives you the right to constantly interfere with mine?”
Arms folded, Xander’s words were drenched in revulsion. “You can’t compare my relationship with Anya to whatever the hell this thing is with the bleached wonder.”
“I can’t?” Buffy replied.
“Of course you can’t! I love Anya.”
The Slayer paused, tamping down her emotions in anticipation of the reaction to her next words. “I love Spike. Deal with it.”
And, oh! It was worth it.
Willow’s hands flew to her mouth, and Xander turned an interesting shade of puce as he choked on his words. “You... You can’t be serious!”
“Oh, Goddess.” Reaching out, Willow took Buffy’s hand’s in what the Slayer assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but in reality, came across as patronising. “I know things are difficult at the moment,” she said, “but turning to Spike for comfort is just wrong. A lot happened last night. Nobody knew who they were or—”
“Exactly!” Buffy’s eyes blazed with an intensity that hadn’t been seen for months. “Nobody knew, Will. And even with a blank slate there was a connection between us. Spike loves me. He has for a long time, but I was always too blind to see it.”
Willow squeezed gently and offered her most reassuring smile. “Buffy, you’re confused. Under the circumstances that’s totally understandable, but you don’t love Spike. Maybe... maybe you think you do but—”
“He’s a soulless vampire. Spike has no idea what love is.” Xander stormed forward, and Buffy suddenly felt crowded by their overbearing presence. “He’s just using his sick obsession to mess with your head.”
The Slayer pulled her shaking hands away from Willow’s grasp, backing away, desperate to put some space between her and the united front of scooby oppression. “You’re wrong.”
“Like hell I am.” Xander followed her retreating form. “So what is it then? Dead boy Junior offers you a shoulder to cry on. Makes you feel sorry for him—convinces you he cares. And now what? You’re gonna offer him a sympathy fu—”
“STOP!” Buffy raised her hand, causing him to wisely halt mid-word. “If I were you, Xander Harris, I’d think long and hard about whether I want to finish that sentence!” Buffy took a calming breath and relaxed her stance. “Dawn told me what happened over the summer. How can you—After everything Spike did for you guys... for Dawn... How can you stand there and just dismiss it? He’s the only one who's helped since you brought me back, and all you can do is put him down!”
A humourless laugh rumbled from Xander’s chest. “Well excuse me. I guess I missed my invitation to join Spike’s fan club. It’s not like you’ve bothered to tell us any of this stuff.”
“I shouldn’t have to!” Buffy replied in exasperation. “God, Xander, use your eyes. Spike’s changed. He’s been changing for a long time, and we’ve never given him any credit for it.” She heaved a deep sigh and glanced between the stunned faces of her friends. “I’m as guilty of that as you are. Maybe more so, because I knew what Spike was capable of becoming. For so long he’s been right by my side—doing whatever it took. Fighting the good fight. He even got himself tortured to save Dawn’s life, and I still didn’t...”
She shook her head. That’s all in the past. Time to move on, Buffy.
“He lets me be myself. I don’t have to pretend with him.”
Willow frowned. “Nobody asked you to pretend with us.”
“It’s not just that,” Buffy replied, finally feeling that she was getting somewhere. “He helps me.”
“With patrol?” Xander asked.
“Well... yes, but it’s more than that. He—”
“You don't need him for patrolling.” Xander saw his opening and ran with it. “Me and Willow helped you out for years before he came along. The three of us managed just fine.”
“You’re right,” Buffy replied, nodding her head in acknowledgment. “But that was then. We were young and stupid. God, we were so over-confident it’s a miracle it didn’t get either of you killed! I don’t have to worry about patrolling with Spike. He’s got vamp strength and he’s as quick as me. He’s my equal.”
Xander’s scornful snort echoed in her ears. So much for progress.
“Oh, come on, Buffy!” he said, throwing his arms in the air and resuming his pacing. “Spike’ll ditch the helpful act as soon as he’s gotten what he wants from you. ‘Cause you know this is an act right? Let’s see how long it takes ‘til he turns on you and you’re begging for our help again.”
“You arrogant...” Flames of fury ignited in Buffy’s eyes at his superior attitude. “Excuse me while I try to remember the last time you even offered to patrol. Yes, you helped back in high school, but you’re not exactly eager now are you?” Walking forward, Buffy stepped into his path. “You act like this is a game. It’s not. This is my life... and obviously one I can’t escape from. So unless you plan on helping me slay by getting knocked unconscious, or magicing away the nasties, you can keep your offers to yourself!”
“Buffy!” Willow grasped the Slayer’s arm, breaking up the furious exchange. “This isn’t like you.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” Buffy replied heatedly. “This is me, Will. This is my life, and from now on I’m going to live it for myself. It’s about time I made my own decisions, and stopped worrying about what everybody else thinks. Spike makes me happy. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
“Because it’s Spike!” Willow cried. “He’s done something to make you act this way. We just don’t know wha—”
“And again with the ridiculous,” Buffy muttered. It had never been clearer just how little her friends valued her opinion. Sure, when it came to demons or the latest apocalypse they were happy to let her lead the charge, but woes betide if she dared to take control of her own heart.
Willow stiffened beside her. “Thrall!” In a blur of movement, the redhead rushed towards Xander, smiling the smile of one who’d just solved one of the mysteries of the universe. “It has to be a thrall. Drusilla did that weird thing with her eyes, a-and she’s Spike’s sire. I bet she taught him how.”
You have got to be kidding me, thought Buffy. What? You don’t think that talent might have proved useful back when he was...oh, I don’t know... trying to kill me!
“Of course!” Xander’s face melted into a picture of relief. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Gee, maybe ‘cause your acting like an idiot?
With an objective in sight, Willow glanced towards her books. “We need to do some research. Find a way to break—”
“Stop it, both of you.” Buffy had officially reached the end of her patience. One more word from either of them, and she was likely to forget the bonds of friendship, and say something she’d later come to regret. “There is no thrall. Though it’s good to know my friends think I’m that gullible. This isn’t up for discussion. I’ve had my say, so you can either deal with it or... well... You know where the door is.”
Evidently, Willow wasn’t listening, and shaking her head, the young witch forged onwards. “Buffy, we know you're upset about coming back but—”
“You say that as if it was my decision. Did I ask for this? Do you honestly think I’d have ever wanted this?” Tears sprang to the Slayer’s eyes, but she fought them back, refusing to show weakness in the face of their opposition. “I was finished, Will. It was over. Did you even think about that before you waved your magic wand and decided to bring me back?”
“Buffy, please. We’re your best friends!”
“Are you? Are you really?” The Slayer needed to end this soon. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and a sob clawed at her throat. “You don’t get it do you? Both of you are so blind! You brought me back and carried on like everything’s fine, just ignoring the damage you caused in the process.”
“That’s not fair!” Xander replied, cringing as guilt washed over his pallid features.
“No, I’ll tell you what’s not fair.” Buffy swallowed hard, reigning in her riotous emotions. “What’s not fair is the fact that my life stopped being my own when I was fifteen years old. What’s not fair are the sacrifices I’ve made to save the world, save you guys, and keep everybody else happy whilst I was doing it! And do you know the best part? When I finally, finally thought it was over... you brought me back to do it all over again. That's not fair!”
Feeling defensive, Willow clenched her fists and stepped forward with a steely gaze. “It’s all about you isn't it?” she asked. “How hard your life is? Well life hasn’t exactly been peachy with a side of keen for me either you know. Tara moved out last night!”
“And whose fault is that, Will?”
Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, is it?
“You’re abusing magic. You can’t keep using it to manipulate your life and the people around you.” Buffy paused, casting her eyes downwards as she allowed her words to sink in. “Spike told me that magic always has consequences. He was right. And now you’re paying the price.” She turned to look at one of her oldest friends, and didn't miss the little flash of black that passed through the redhead's eyes. “This has to stop. You need to back off and stop using spells for every little thing.”
Willow narrowed her eyes. “I seem to remember you being just fine when I was your ‘big gun’,” she replied. “If it weren’t for me, Angelus could still be out there terrorizing innocent people. And what about Adam? You think you could have defeated him without me? Your slayer strength didn’t stand a chance then, did it?” Willow stood defiantly, as if daring someone to cross her. “How many times have my spells saved the day, huh? A little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss… a-and besides… You should be grateful I brought you back.”
“Grateful?” Buffy’s voice was a deadly whisper as she glared at the ego-driven imposter inhabiting her friend’s body. “Perhaps you’re right, Will. Perhaps I should just pull myself together and get the hell over it. Would that make you happy?”
She spared a glance in Xander’s direction and noted with some satisfaction that he at least had the decency to look ashamed. Nonetheless, Buffy’s anger was in the driving seat, and she refused to let his demeanor sway her off course.
“You’re so full of it,” she said, “Both of you. God, sometimes I wonder why you even bothered to bring me back in the first place. Let’s face it. You don’t want me, you want the damn bot. Something that’ll smile, and slay, and save your asses night after night, without the inconvenience of these pesky emotions.”
Without a second thought, Buffy headed for the hallway, grabbed Spike’s duster from the banister, and glowered at the pursuing scoobies.
“I was in heaven, Will. Don’t you get that? I was safe, and I was loved, and you ripped me out so that I can spend the rest of my life fighting and killing. You can never understand what you’ve done to me. So don’t you dare stand there and tell me to be grateful!” She turned, anger radiating off her body, and allowed the slamming of the front door to punctuate her departure.
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Chapter End Notes:
Okay, I know Xander came off as a complete jerk in this chapter, but bear in mind he's confused and not thinking clearly. I promise he will redeem himself... eventually *evil grin*