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An hour later when she came down to give him his supper, Spike noticed several things. Buffy’s right hand was wound tight with white gauze. She must've broken a dish in the sink and cut her hand, Spike thought.

Buffy had showered and was wearing a pair of lavender, flannel pajamas that overwhelmed her slim frame. Her feet were stuck in fluffy, pink slippers. Spike was grateful she’d rinsed away Wesley’s scent because he wasn’t certain he’d have been able to keep his anger in check otherwise. Spike was becoming more agitated each day since Tara’s departure and he didn't want to lose his temper with Buffy, especially because what Wesley did wasn't her fault.

To calm down after what he'd heard and smelling Buffy's blood, Spike had reached out to Tara in his mind. It had been a hit to his pride to get all downward dog with the meditation, but it had worked. Spike had felt her presence; Tara was safe aside from the ever-present worry. Whatever she was doing was filling her with a sense of accomplishment, and that was good. Spike soaked in Tara's mood like the warmth of a fire, then bounced his well-being back to her, intensifying the effect.

By the time Buffy reached his door, Spike was leaning against it with one arm over his head. Buffy looked at him; her eyes getting stuck on his bare skin. She handed him the glass and he drank it in one go, suppressing his game face. After he'd finished, Buffy took the empty glass back. Even though her task was finished, she didn't withdraw.

“I'm sorry for threatening you earlier. You didn't do anything to deserve that,” she said.

Spike smiled, giving her the full complement of his rarely-seen dimples.

“S'alright. I'm sorry I was being rude. You were just trying to help,” he said.

She looked down at her folded hands and the chipped, blue polish.

“You were telling me the truth.”

“There's being truthful and there's being cruel. I was being cruel,” he said.

“Spike, I needed to hear it.”

“I knew what I was getting into, warned me enough, didn't you? I wouldn't change anything, love, wouldn't want to miss out on knowing you,” he said.

Buffy looked at him and bit her lower lip.

“Can I stay in here with you tonight?” she asked.

She seemed just as surprised by her request as he was. It took him a second to register what she'd said, but when he did, Spike nodded eagerly. Buffy unlocked the cage and slipped inside, being careful to lock the door again. She ran to Spike's arms; as he held her, Buffy's body relaxed like chocolate melting in the heat of an open palm. They stretched out on his sleeping bag and Buffy rested her head on his chest, the spill of her blonde hair tickling his cheek.

“I need to get you like an actual bed, I feel like the camp counselor is going to walk in and put us in separate tents,” Buffy said.

“We could slide Tara's in through the door.”

“She's squicked enough already, I don't think she'd appreciate us getting groiny in her bed and her brain.”

“So we're going to get groiny tonight, love?” Spike asked with a grin.

She smiled and nuzzled the crook of his underarm.

“Kind of poor word choice on my part, but yeah, If you want to.”

“I always want to, cutie,” Spike said.

“Could we talk a little first? It's been a night of awfulness,” she said.

“’Course. I got the gist of it, by the way. Your Watcher getting a bit too hands on.”

“How?” she asked.

Buffy raised her head and looked into his face.

“Vampire super-hearing.”

“Right, I forgot,” she said.

She resumed her place against him and Spike tightened his hold on her.

“I don’t trust him. He thinks I’m only a few rungs up from a poodle and he seemed a tad blithe about my sister’s civil rights. Also, the kissing you part, not happy about that,” Spike said.

“I know, but Wes is brilliant and he will help figure out if Lacy and Angel are playing us. Besides, I won’t let him take you or Tara away against your will,” Buffy said.

“How would you stop him, love?”

“I don’t know, the way I always do, I guess; ass-kicking and strategic thinking.”

“That’s my girl. I can tell you don't trust him either, or you wouldn't feel safer locked in a cage with your pet vampire than you would sleeping across the hall from him,” Spike said.

Buffy sighed. Her fingers forged a nervous path along his chest; Spike suppressed a shiver.

“I did trust him. In fact, he was the only person I trusted after what happened to Dawn.”

“If he makes another sloppy pass at you he's going to be a stain on the wall.”

“Don't. No matter what, he's my friend. His drinking wasn't this bad when we lived together and I think the alcohol is really getting to him.”

“You lived with him?” Spike asked. His eyebrows raising in alarm.

“It wasn't like that,” Buffy said, hurrying through the words. “He’s my Watcher. After Dawn died, he was the only person from the Council with the courage to be near me. He kept me from committing suicide by monster. I wouldn't have survived without Wesley.”

“How long did it last, this Punky Brewster bit?”

“Punky Brewster? Nevermind. I just turned seventeen when he became my Watcher, so two years, I guess,” Buffy said.

“Did he ever try anything before tonight?”

“I…don’t know. Right before he left me to go back to England I came home and he was in drunken stupor. When I tried to help him up the steps, he shoved his tongue down my throat and then he threw up on my new boots. It wasn't his finest moment. The next morning he apologized and a few days later he was gone,” Buffy said.

“Would you have slept with him to keep him there?” Spike asked, gently.

She sighed and curled into his chest. He brushed her hair with his hand and thought of the night she came to him covered in blood, offering her body so that he would just hold her.

“It's alright, baby, it's not an accusation. Only want to understand, is all,” Spike whispered.

“I'm...ashamed, but yeah, I would have. I didn’t really want to, but Wesley was all I had. I think he knew that, which is probably why he left. The Wesley I knew wouldn't have wanted to take advantage. Anyway, he never asked and I wouldn't have known how to say, then. I wasn't the incredible slut I am now,” Buffy said, burying her face further in his side.

“Don't talk about yourself that way, love. I'm just impossible to resist,” he said, swallowing his anger with a wicked smile.

“Yeah, you kind of are. It scares me, because I’m not sure who you are, only that I feel...I do think my Spike is still in here,” Buffy said, using her fingertip to draw a shaky heart on his cool skin.

She untucked her head from its hiding place and looked into his eyes.

“Your Spike?” he asked. His voice sounded rougher, deeper.

“My Spike,” she said.

She kissed him with soft, open lips. Spike pulled her breath into his lungs as she exhaled into his mouth. He was surprised when his lungs burned from disuse, but he didn't stop sipping at her breath. He rolled over on top of her and Buffy's legs fell open automatically. Spike wanted to undress her slowly this time and show her how good it could be to tease, but she was frantically wriggling out of her pajamas.

“Now Spike, please, I need you now,” she whispered.

“Want to taste you first, love,” he said.

“Please, Spike, I need--”

“What do you need?” he asked, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

“To be close to you,” she said.

She spread her legs, throwing wide the core of herself, the heart. Her heart ached for him, wept for him and again she begged.

“Please.”

He couldn't deny her anymore. Spike pierced her heart until they both came. There were no words for the way Buffy made him feel. It was less than a volcanic eruption, a nuclear bomb, an exploding star; it was more than grunting and tussling in a sleeping bag on the floor. Every descriptor was clinical, fantastical or crude. All were lacking. He said the only words that could show her, the only words that fit.

“I love you,” Spike said.

They held each other in silence until her heartbeat resumed its normal pace.

“You still hold your breath when you finish,” Buffy said, smiling up at him sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shyly.

“No, I like it. That’s just you,” she said.

He ran his fingertips along her eyebrows to the round of her cheeks. He kissed the tiny bulb at the end of her nose, eliciting a laugh from Buffy, and then pressed his lips to hers. He'd found that one of the vagaries of his vampiric disposition was sexual insatiability. Even though she'd successfully blown his mind, it just wasn't enough. Spike deepened the kiss, hoping she wouldn't push him away. Spike slid his hand between her legs. Spike couldn't say her name, but he could spell it with his fingers against her clit until Buffy was moaning his. She didn’t want to stop kissing his lips, but Buffy finally let him go down on her when he took his nimble fingers away. Spike loved the taste of his demonic seed mingled with her juice; it wasn’t delicious like food, but tasting her was just as necessary for his continued existence as the mug of blood he’d been drinking. He lathed an orgasm from Buffy and then Spike pierced her heart again. And then again. They wiled away the night burning through their pleasure until there was only pain, and still neither wanted to stop. When they were finally too sore and exhausted to continue, the smell of the sun was on the air. Buffy was dozing on his chest and Spike was on the edge of sleep.

“What do you want to do about your Watcher?” Spike asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“He’s going to catch us starkers once he sobers up if you don’t go back upstairs. Do you want that?” Spike asked.

“Maybe it would be better to keep you and me under wraps until he leaves,” Buffy said.

“You ashamed, kitten?” he asked. His voice sounded gritty and low.

“No, I just don't want him to be hurt, and I don't want him to do anything to you,” Buffy said.

“I think you like it, having your own pet vampire under lock and key,” Spike said with a grin.

“You’re not my pet. You’re my Spike,” Buffy murmured before she drifted off.

**

Spike wasn’t certain of the time, only that day was shining brightly outside and a cloud of bourbon was wafting through the air.

“I think your Watcher’s awake,” Spike said.





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