Chapter 14
Spike grew self-conscious the longer Buffy stared at him. Although he couldn’t really call it staring. It was as if she was looking straight into the heart of him. As though she could see every nook and cranny of his numerous insecurities. He couldn’t dare break the contact though. Not when she held on to his coat to keep him from fleeing.
“I’ve never had flowering onion before,” she finally said softly. “Is it good?”
“Best junk food I’ve ever tasted. Probably the only good thing this sodding town has going for it.”
She blinked and let go of his sleeve, her knuckles grazing his. “Maybe I could stop by sometimes. If I won’t be intruding, that is.”
He must have looked really desperate and he hated that she had caught him off guard. “I don’t need a pity visit, you know.”
“Good. Because I don’t intend to pity-visit you. But I can’t guarantee not asking nosy questions.”
She smiled and just like that the tension he hadn’t noticed building in his body gradually dissolved. “Duly noted.”
“That’s that then,” she said and they both looked away at the same time. Spike all of a sudden felt the urge to toe the ground and blush like… like he was William again. What had this girl done to him?
“I’m gonna pay for this.”
“Yes. That’s probably a good idea.”
So he did, all the while pointedly ignoring the glare Buffy’s father was directing his way as he slapped change into Spike’s palm hard enough for it to sting. He had a good reason to be wary of a man like Spike being around his daughter. Didn’t mean Spike would be easily intimidated.
On his way to the house, he wondered whether she would come and why the hell was he so starved for company after being fine scourging around on his own for years.
*******
This daily routine was becoming stale.
Every single day he woke up to a chilly room vaguely smelling of rose oil. No matter how many times he’d aired the room, the scent remained the same. Then he’d drag his weary body to the shower and relish the water’s warm embrace for ten precious minutes before he brushed his teeth.
Brush your teeth William or you’ll end up looking like a pirate, his mum’s voice echoed in his mind like a mantra carved into flesh.
“See, Mum? I’m a good little boy. Brushing my teeth and making my bed. You’d be real proud,” he mumbled as he walked back to the bedroom to do the second chore.
Today had to be the day his bad luck finally broke. It fucking had to. The restlessness had slowly expanded after being in Sunnydale for the third month and having accomplished nothing other than getting burned and beaten blue by the Old Witch’s defensive magic. People had better run for cover once his patience had run its course.
Spike bounded down the stairs and into the old fashioned kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. Caffeine got him hyper, sometimes frighteningly so, but he liked the zing of it. The dark, bitter taste. No milk, just probably enough sugar to give him a heart attack one of these days.
How can you drink this, Mum? It’s awful.
His mother had just smiled, patted him on the head and said, “Wait a few years, love. Then you’ll like it, I swear.”
Well, she’d been right.
He’d made himself scrambled eggs and managed to burn it only slightly when his thoughts diverted his focus. Still, he ate it and shrugged into his coat. Not the leather one though, because even in California, the November weather warranted slightly more.
At least it was black, he thought as he fastened the two rows of buttons on his thicker, military styled coat.
The witch had put a barrier around her house. He’d tried every counter spell he knew of and a few he’d only discovered recently. He needed that book. The sooner he got it the sooner he could leave.
Sometimes he had to push himself to try harder, to keep seeking new solutions. He did it because he feared he wasn’t trying hard enough. That he was getting distracted by feelings he shouldn’t be having in the first place.
Giving up wasn’t an option.
Not for anyone.
*******
Buffy was waiting in front of the house when he returned, the tip of her nose slightly red.
Failing once again at bringing the witch’s barrier down meant he wasn’t in the most sociable of moods.
“Shouldn’t you be at school, love?” He fished out his keys and unlocked the front door. She flounced inside and he followed her.
“I skipped gym class.”
“And you’re here because—”
Her eyes brightened with hurt and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop the apology ready to spill forth.
“Can I just be here for a while? You don’t even have to talk to me or anything. I just don’t want to risk going home and have Dad know I skipped, but I don’t want to stay outside and catch a cold. This was the only place I… maybe I should just go.”
She looked so vulnerable when she moved to walk out that his body reacted before his brain. He caught her wrist and drew her back inside before closing the door.
“Stay. I don’t mind.” He could never say no to her, could he? Bloody hell. He should have let her leave.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Now go sit.” He watched her actually listen to what he said for once, and frowned. There was something going on with her and he intended to find out what. Maybe admitting he really cared about her would make things easier but he still clung to the denial he’d come out of this unscathed.
He made two mugs of hot chocolate and put a handful of tiny marshmallows in each just because he was a sugar-addicted bastard.
When he returned to the living room, she sat there still dressed in her winter regalia, her posture stiff.
“Are you cold?” He handed her one of the steaming cups, putting his on the cherry wood table. “Here… Drink this while I throw some logs in the fireplace.”
“Thanks.”
Her eyes burned into his back as he stoked the fire and took off his coat when the warm glow spread in the room.
And there it was. Just a fleeting wince anyone but him would have missed as she slipped out of her own coat. She collapsed back on the sofa again with a trembling inhale. As though she was repressing pain.
With a frown, Spike walked over to her and tilted his head. “Are you hurt?”
Her surprised gaze flew up from the mug to look at him. “Why would you say that?”
“What happened? And don’t say nothing because I saw that wince, kitten.”
The urge to lie was a clear intent in her face. But she must have seen something in his before she admitted, “My ribs are sore.”
“Why?”
She shrugged, her hands cupping the hot mug. “I woke up and they just were. I think I might have been sleepwalking.”
She forced a laugh, as if the matter was trivial and nothing to worry about but he saw the shadow of fear dancing in her eyes.
“It’s nothing,” she assured herself and took a sip of the hot chocolate. “This is really good by the way.”
“Told you I could cook. And before you get smart on me, I count making hot cocoa as cooking.” He sat down and stole one soaked marshmallow from her mug, popped it into his mouth. “How long have you been sleepwalking then?”
“I don’t know if I am. It’s not like I find myself in any weird places. It’s just… like when I woke up and my hair was damp. Or today, I woke up and my ribs hurt like hell. That’s why I skipped PE.”
“Did you check your feet?”
“What?”
“Your feet. Were they dirty? Because that would mean you were out and about.”
She mulled it over before shaking her head. “No.”
Call it instinct, a hunch, but he had a bad feeling about this. “Let me check.”
“You mean my ribs?”
“Yeah.”
Now she looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“Just to make sure they’re not broken or cracked at least.”
A flicker of hesitation.
“Do you want to go to a doctor instead?”
“It’s not that bad…”
The harder he’d press the issue, the more reluctant she’d become, he knew. So he did the only thing he thought would work. “Well, if one of your ribs breaks off and pierces your lungs don’t come crying to me. It’ll be your funeral. Literally.”
That got her attention, though he felt bad for how pale she’d gone.
“Okay. I guess you should check it then.”
Their fingers brushed as he took the mug from her hands, put it on the table and scooted closer. Her eyes were wide, her breath coming quicker out of fear and nerves, he suspected.
“Relax, I won’t hurt you.”
She gulped. “I know.”
The heat of her skin tickled his fingers as he gripped the hem of her sweater and pulled it up and over her head. The only thing she wore beneath was a thin tight tank top that didn’t conceal the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Forcing his thoughts off the adult rated track, he slowly rolled up the fabric until he reached her breasts.
“Hold it,” he said in a voice that was too raspy even to his own ears.
She obeyed, her stomach quivering when his fingers splayed over her ribs. The faint blue of her bruise that eerily resembled a big shoe print made him internally cringe. He’d gotten similar bruises more than once. But how did she get them if she’d never left her bed? Unlike him, Spike doubted she was out hunting vampires.
“A-are they… broken?”
He probed gently, apologizing with his gaze when he pushed too hard. “I don’t think so. Just one hell of a bruise.”
Their eyes met, his touch stilling, lingering on the softness of her skin, trapped by the uncertain desire in her eyes. He wondered how fast she’d run if she knew he was imagining leaning down to kiss the sensitive skin beneath her cute belly button.
“My chocolate is getting cold,” she said quietly but leaned into his touch. It was her wince that made him let go, had him straining for control.
The tank top slid back down again, followed by the sweater. All the while he tried to chase the memory of her smooth skin out of his head because he didn’t fancy her catching an eyeful of what that did to him.
Despite her scars, she was still bloody gorgeous. Smart, witty, stubborn as all hell, a right spitfire she was… and wait up! Was she stealing his marshmallows?
He snagged his mug out of her reach, glaring at her over the rim as he took a sip. “Watch it.”
“You took one of mine. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“I think there are two things you should know about me. First, no kneeing me in the goodies. Second, hands off my sweets. And you’ve already done both.”
Buffy pressed her lips together in an obvious effort to stave off her smile. “Sorry, not much for following rules.”
“Oh, you will be sorry.” He bit his bottom lip, slowly caressed her from head to toe with a sloe-eyed gaze. “Next time, I’ll bend you over my knee and spank your arse ‘til it’s red.”
It took her a few seconds to process the visual he’d painted. Being the bad rude man he was, he enjoyed the way the blush crept up her cheeks.
“I’m not a five-year old.”
The corner of his mouth tipped in a smirk. How innocently cute could this girl get? “Oh, kitten, the kind of spanking I’m talking about? You’d beg me to hurt you just a little bit more.”
“Is this some weird sex thing? Like the whole slave mistress deal?” she asked in a nonchalant manner, but he could see the slight tremor in her hands, the almost inaudible hitch in her breathing.
He must have been staring at her because she said with a pout, “What? I may be a bit naïve but I’m not stupid. I’ve got internet.”
Well, how could he resist that? “Have you now? Just what kind of X-rated websites have you been looking at?”
Buffy’s jaw dropped. Why the hell had she said the word sex in the first place? “I so do not! Everybody knows about the… you know. The whole pain with your pleasure, latex wearing…” Someone please shut my mouth! “But I don’t watch those kinds of videos, like the naked ones with all the grunting and… nakedness. A-and fake boobs and scary penises. Would you please stop laughing at me?” She leaned her elbows on her knees, hid her face in the palms of her hands. Was it just her or were her cheeks really flaming? Why had she said all that stuff?
Not only was Spike laughing like crazy, she felt the mirth bubbling in her own chest. This was ridiculous! One minute he was sniping at her then the next he was making her stomach flutter with those strong sure hands caressing her ribs and now he was laughing at her expense!
“You’re just too good to be true,” he said with amusement clear in his voice and she had to look then. Had to see if his eyes wrinkled in the way she liked.
Yup, they did.
She was doomed. And she couldn’t stop the giggle even if she tried to muffle the sound with her hand. He made her giggle! Had she entered the Twilight zone? What would come next? Twirling her hair around her pointer finger while sucking on a lollipop?
“I said penises,” she said miserably, to which Spike burst into a fresh gale of laughter.
It was contagious and she couldn’t help but join in. Her ribs protested but she just didn’t care because it felt so incredibly good. They were both near the point of tears, probably looking like a pair of patients that had escaped from a mental hospital.
It took them several tries to start calming down and it was only then that Buffy noticed how close they were. That Spike’s knee was pressed against hers as they both sat sideways on the couch, opposite each other.
Spike chuckled. “You are a riot, love.”
“I don’t even remember why we started laughing so much.”
“Don’t even try because I’ll just start all over again if you tell me.” He threw his arm on the back of the couch, his forearm a torturous inch away from her shoulder. But then his other hand casually touched her side. “Your ribs okay? Must have been quite a strain.”
She was still tingly and exhilarated, and there was such warmth in his eyes eclipsed with concern that it wiped out any rational thought from her brain. In that moment he looked so completely different, so young and familiar rather than guarded and cocky that she could almost believe they were friends. That they were two completely different people who had known each other their whole lives and shared laughter as naturally as they drew breath.
Her brain was so flooded with that sudden imagery that it completely obliterated reason and common sense, which was probably why she did what she did next.
Before she could stop herself from making the mistake, she closed her eyes and leaned in to press her lips to his in a chaste kiss. The shock of that intimate contact, the softness, the tiniest rasp of day old stubble against her chin and cheek, the fresh scent of his skin…
But now she didn’t know what to do as his lack of reaction filled her with shame.
Oh God, what had she done?
She drew back, swamped by sheer panic. His hand still rested on her waist, now slowly falling away as he looked at her in stunned disbelief. His mouth parted and she knew she couldn’t let him speak because he’d say something to shatter her heart into million pieces. And why had she done it?
Buffy jumped to her feet, on the brink of hyperventilating, her lips throbbing, his taste still imprinted on them and all she could think of was how addicted she could become to him. How she could never face him again for the same reason.
“I’m s-so… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean... I-I—”
He rose from the couch. “Buffy…”
She was shaking now, backing away and determined to flee because what other choice did she have? She’d rather run than stay to face his mockery. “I’m s-sorry.”
She couldn’t see his face through the sheen of tears welling up, which was just as well. She could barely see anything, barely registered curling her fingers around the doorknob, ready to run out.
Before she could, he grasped her upper arm and pulled her away with enough force to make her stumble.
“Let me go.” She struggled, refusing to even glance at him, to see his anger. For all his flirting she’d always known he never really meant to follow through. The mere sight of her face had to disgust him and now she’d truly proved just how pathetic she was.
“I will, but not until we hash this out.”
“Spike, please.” She was going to cry, she could feel the lump in her throat grow thicker when she realised she wouldn’t be able to break his hold.
“Buffy, damn it. Would you stop?”
“I don’t know why I did it. It won’t happen again and I—”
He gripped her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Bloody hell, Buffy, I’m not going to bite your head off. I just want to talk. Will you look at me?”
She slowly raised her eyes, thankful her vision was blurred and she didn’t have to see his expression clearly.
“You can’t just run out of here like that. You’re not even wearing your coat, you silly bint. Or did you forget it was December and your house is about fifteen minutes away?”
She started to cry.
“Oh come on, don’t… I can’t handle it if you’re crying. Fuck.”
He couldn’t handle what? Telling her she should keep her gross lips away from his? This only made her want to cry even harder but she dragged in a few deep breaths to calm down.
“Look, I’m not gonna yell at you or whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself I’ll do. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
Spike had no idea how to deal with this. All he wanted to do was sweep in to kiss her breathless, to taste her deeply, properly, not just a graze of her lips he hadn’t even had time to relish. But then he’d be crossing a line he told himself he’d never cross with her. She was eight years younger than him, way too innocent and good for the likes of him.
Terrified, that’s what he was.
Terrified that he’d break her heart once he got what he came for and left. She didn’t deserve that. But in the smallest corner of his heart, he knew, he admitted that maybe that was an excuse and he was protecting himself. He’d lost too many people, had been hurt one too many times to give her what she wanted. Couldn’t she see that he was broken?
“Where’s my coat?” she asked quietly but he could sense the underlying steel in her voice. A spark of anger.
“We need to talk,” he said though he had no idea what to say. His hold had fallen slack and she stepped away, reclaiming her coat.
“Buffy, wait. Don’t go.” He just needed to… he couldn’t stand the look on her face, not knowing how to fix this mess without hurting her feelings any more than he already had.
“I need to go. I c-can’t… not right now.”
He sighed. Maybe he should just let her go. Let her be angry at him.
“This isn’t over.”
She didn’t even look at him as she opened the door and walked out.
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you All4Spike for betaing, and another big thanks goes to everyone who shared their thoughts with me!
Chapter End Notes:
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