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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry about the delay, kind readers. I kept rewriting the dialogue because it didn't sit right with me. Really hope you like it!

Big thanks to All4Spike for the swift editing!
Chapter 35

Everything felt strange. Misplaced. Like that one time Dad read about feng shui and repositioned furniture in the entire house in a fit of orderly freakiness. She’d stubbed her toe on the coffee table more than once until she’d got used to the new layout.

It took her a while to realise that the strangeness stemmed from the unfamiliar scent of un-homeliness, the too fluffy pillow, the lack of the dreaded morning wake up call from her dad. Right. She wasn’t at home. And she wouldn’t be seeing Dad once she actually managed to peel her eyes open. The strange tickling sensation on her feet distracted her from the stirrings of homesickness. What was that?

Her meager kick provoked a chuckle somewhere near.

“Wake up, kitten.”

“Huh?” God, someone close the blinds. She shut her eyes to force the light out, though the echoes of it still bounced behind her eyelids.

And that weird sensation? That turned out to be one insistent, obnoxious peroxide blonde who had apparently been trying to awaken her by squeezing her toes.

“The sun’s up. We should get a move on.”

She grunted and put a spare pillow over her eyes.

“That’s a no then?”

She dug into his inner thigh since she was too tired to actually kick him. He’d have deserved it too for so rudely making himself comfortable at the foot of her bed and interrupting her rest.

“Hey! Go easy on the goodies.” He clasped her wayward feet more firmly. “Not a morning person, I see. Hmm… I wonder what it takes to get you going,” he drawled in a voice that was far too provocative so early in the morning before her anti-innuendo shields had been fully activated.

His fingertips teased the sole of her foot in an obvious attempt to send her out of the bed shrieking to escape his tickling. Good luck with that. She wasn’t ticklish at all.

Spike huffed in disappointment and she really hoped he’d give up soon because if he kept it up, she’d get tingly in an entirely different way. And that would be wrong because… It just would. Wouldn’t it? She knew she should keep her distance, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember why.

“How are you not ticklish?” The pout in his voice had her biting her lip to stifle a smile. Apparently failing at it when he said, “And now you’re laughing at me. Oh, I’ll show you, thinking I can’t get a reaction out of you. Want to bet I can?”

She snorted.

“Tickling doesn’t work. Check. Now… if I was Buffy’s Achilles heel, where would I be?”

As he mulled it over, his fingers darted beneath the covers to absentmindedly stroke her calves. She really should have worn long pajama pants instead of boxers.

His touch was like warmth from the heart of a fire and she may as well have spent hours standing in a chilly draft for the shiver his gentle stroking sent racing up her spine.

He paused before letting out a dark, deep chuckle. “Ah, I see.”

See? See what? Surely not that tiny shiver she’d hidden so well. Certainly couldn’t be her lack of bra since she was fortunately covered with the duvet. She was on the verge of asking when she realised that would mean giving up the pretense of being asleep. Not that they both weren’t aware she was awake. Still, the charade was hard to give up when he started to massage her toes. Ah, those strong, capable fingers. He could convince the Devil to embark on the path of redemption with a foot massage like that. And the ankle teasing? She could get addicted to that.

“Like that?”

She shook her head.

“Liar.” He dug his thumbs into her sole and boy, did it drain the tension out of her tired feet. She was putty in his hands. Especially when he started to sweep his fingers up the arch of her foot to massage her calves.

“There’s not a chance you’ll get me out of the bed if you keep that up. What a lousy plan.” Damn, he made her forget the whole no talking thing.

“And she talks.”

“Nope. It’s all in your head. I’m still very much asleep.”

“Still, looks like I win the bet. I got a reaction.”

“I never officially agreed to anything.” She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Minx.”

His fingertips tickled the spot behind her knee and it was just, “Guh…”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything.”

“’Course you didn’t.” He touched the back of her knee again, the clever bastard. “The blush on your cheeks and that little shiver tell me all I need to know.”

Stupid traitor-y shivers.

She chucked the pillow at his head, realising far too late that now she had nothing to hide her face behind. Crap. And hello, yummy bare chest bathed in golden morning light. She just may have found appreciation for mornings after all.

“My cheeks are liars too. And that was a shiver of… chilliness.” Her eyes tracked the smooth glide of his hands then shifted from the rippling muscles in his upper arms to his self-assured smirk. Irrationally, she congratulated herself on shaving her legs before going to sleep last night. On the other hand, the Sasquatch legs may have discouraged him from all the touchy-feely that made her want to straddle him and do unspeakable things. Which would be bad. Or was it sinfully good instead? “Don’t stop.”

His eyes burned with wicked intent and something told her not even hairy legs would have deterred him.

“Shall I keep going then?”

She swallowed heavily as his slightly calloused hands glided up to her outer thighs.

“Come on, tell me.”

Just. A little bit. Higher. “Ye—”

Her phone rang.

Never before had she hated technology more.

The warmth of his touch disappeared, leaving her oddly bereft. Spike fell on his back with a sigh as she picked the phone off the nightstand to read the ID before answering the call. She was torn between regret and excitement to hear the familiar voice.

Dad, the champion of best timing ever.

*******

Was he frustrated? You bloody believe he was.

But that wasn’t the worst thing. The worst was the realisation of how much he’d missed touching her, being near her. How he found her tangled hair adorable enough to make him want to grin like a fool. He should have been cursing his blue balls but here he was instead, imagining saying to hell with it all and snuggling up to her under the duvet. Not just to shag her, oh no. To hold her. How sick and twisted was that?

Yeah, he cared. And caring was as far as he’d take that sentiment brewing in his chest.

As he watched her rise from the bed and talk to her father, he remembered the reason she wasn’t at home. The implication of it rested like a heavy stone in his gut.

She was a Potential.

Yeah, that sounded just like him. To be stupid enough to start caring about a girl who was hunted by demons. By Angelus.

This was one hell of a mess.

*******

“You’ve been strangely quiet,” Buffy said and he almost missed it over the rush of his own thoughts, the ruckus of a busy diner.

“Sorry, a bit preoccupied.”

“Well, don’t hurt yourself with all the thinking.” The smile she gave him was sweeter than the maple syrup he was pouring over his pancakes.

“I’m touched that you’re worried about me getting hurt,” he replied, his hand over his chest.

“Of course I am. Which is why you’re going to tell me what’s with the brooding.”

“Brooding?”

She arched her eyebrow expectantly, her lips pursed. For a moment he imagined dripping the syrup over those lips before licking the sticky sweetness off.

“Ah, nothing. Never you mind, kitten.”

“Don’t ‘kitten’ me. I can clearly see something’s bothering you, and this is me not trying to push but it would be nice to be in the know for a change.”

The corners of her lips dropped in a sad little pout she probably wasn’t even aware of and he cursed himself for being such a sucker when it came to her. “I’m worried. About you.”

“Me? Is it because of the whole demon assassin thing?”

“You’re saying that as if it’s no big deal.”

Her lips thinned. “It’s over. I’m alive. She’s not.”

“Come on now, I thought we were being honest. You and I both know it’s far from over. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, slumming it up at a rundown diner in the middle of nowhere.”

Buffy’s gaze fell to the table separating them, restlessly pushing a French fry into a pool of ketchup. He wished she’d look up at him. “I like it here. The fluorescent lights are flattering to my complexion. And hey, nothing’s too bad if you have French fries all yummy and ready to be eaten.”

The smile on her face was more of a grimace, really. Did she think she’d fool him into believing she wasn’t worried at all? But if that was the way she dealt with it, he wouldn’t be the one to take it away. God knows, his way of dealing wasn’t any better.

“Your pancakes will get cold,” she observed.

“Yeah.” He stared down at the plate and reclaimed the fork. As he ate, he caught Buffy looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face. For a few seconds, their gazes locked before hers darted back to the table again. They continued eating, though the rising tension between them thickened like a fog.

It wasn’t long before Buffy broke the silence.

“Spike?”

He nodded, urging her to continue.

“Do you… You said you knew what being a Potential meant. Do you know what else could be… hunting me down?”

The pancakes he was chewing suddenly tasted like a lump of mud, but he forced himself to swallow before pushing the plate away. “You really want to know?”

She straightened up, staring at him resolutely. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know everything, but there might be a chance another vengeance demon will come after you. But that’s not the worst that could happen.” His throat was dry and he took a sip of water to fix it as much as he did it to earn a few seconds to gather his thoughts. “You know the vamp I’m chasing. The one that… killed my family?”

“Yes?”

“He’s the one that… He’s searching for Potentials. He… kills them in a ritual where he pulls their untapped power into himself. To make him invincible.” He resisted the urge to grab her, to hide her somewhere Angelus would never care to look.

*******

She wouldn’t betray the effect his words had on her. Wouldn’t let him see she knew what Angelus was capable of because she’d lived it through him. “I did okay the last time, didn’t I? I can take care of myself if it comes down to that.”

His hand covered hers, squeezing, as though trying to prevent her from fleeing. “You can’t. Not even a Slayer can or he’d already be dust by now. He’s halfway to being indestructible already with the bloody gem.” At her questioning look, he elaborated. “The Gem of Amara. Prevents him from getting staked or beheaded, allows him to walk in the sun.”

“You think I wouldn’t stand a chance, but what about you?”

“I’m working on it. I’m this close to getting what I need to kill him properly. One of the reasons we’re going to Cleveland.”

She pulled her hands away and folded her arms over her chest. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? Want to know what I think?”

“Will my ego survive it?” he joked but she didn’t feel like smiling at all.

“I think that you’re planning on ditching me at your friend’s house once we’re there and then you’ll go off alone to chase after the big bad vamp.”

His guilty expression gave him away.

“It’s stupid and reckless! There’s no meaning to it at all. Killing him or getting yourself killed won’t change anything. They’ll still be dead.” Spike’s cheeks were flushed, probably from anger, but she wouldn’t let him interrupt. Not now when she needed to say, “I’m not telling you not to do it. I know I’d feel the same if I were you. But you’re not leaving me there. I’m going with you.”

“You’re bloody well not!”

“I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you. I’ll be in danger anyway, so what does it matt—”

“Have you gone completely carrot top? I’m not bringing you to Angelus on a silver platter!”

People sitting nearby glanced at them, curious and alert, like dogs catching a whiff of a new scent.

She leaned in closer, her voice falling to an urgent whisper. “I can help you. I won’t be a burden, someone you have to look after. I’ll watch your back just as you’ll watch mine, Spike. I’ve been doing martial arts since I was a kid. I’m not some damsel in distress. I don’t want to be hiding somewhere, wishing the problem would go away or hoping someone will solve it for me. If the only way to get my life back is to kick some ass, then sign me up.”

With his elbows planted on the table, Spike hid his face in his palms. When his shoulders started to shake, she feared she’d driven him to tears. Still didn’t mean she’d be taking her words back.

A choked sound escaped him, followed by a chortle. He wasn’t crying at all. He was laughing. Wait. Why the hell was he laughing? There was nothing funny here whatsoever.

“Oh God, I broke you, didn’t I?”

The leather seat of the bench squeaked as he leaned back and giggled. Okay, she was officially scared. “Spike?”

“I j-just…” He rubbed his quaking stomach, his grin so wide it made his cheeks dimple. “I realised… won’t be Angelus who’ll be the death of me. It’ll be you.”

“Still not seeing the funny here.”

“Yeah, neither am I.”

“You know that if you leave me in Cleveland, I’ll go off on my own.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You’d better be around then, to make sure I don’t get myself killed or something.”

He sighed, tilted his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so bloody stubborn. As a matter of fact,” his eyes softened, “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Good,” she said, ignoring the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. “Now watch me steal your pancakes, Mister.”

She winked and pulled his half full plate towards her, refusing to think of what the future held. Surely the bad guy would lose in the end and everything would be all right.

It had to be.

TBC






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