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Author's Chapter Notes:
Previously: Buffy said 'I love you'. Now it's Spike's turn to respond. *gasp*

Beta'd by the lovely All4Spike.
Chapter 42

Buffy loved him.

For an endless second, the world stopped turning. Time seemed to have stretched, a fabric yanked in two opposite directions ready to snap. His tongue was tied into a knot and his stomach clenched when he realised he’d been silent for too long and she was starting to look worried. Hurt.

He’d promised himself he’d never hurt her again. Not if he could help it.

Yet as the warmth of her words cocooned his entire body, his tongue remained dipped in lead. He loved her too.

Bloody hell.

He couldn’t say the words. So he did all he could. He stole a kiss from her. His lips moved over hers gently, achingly, willing her to feel his love reflected in the way he touched her. He dragged his fingertips down her scarred cheek with a reverence that bordered on religious worship.

How could she love him when he was so fucked up?

When she started to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, he realised she was more of a threat than any vampire or demon that had left him bloody and bruised. Wounds healed, bones mended. This was worse, so much worse, for she was oblivious to the way she’d targeted the only thing that could truly bring him to his knees. His heart.

And he didn’t care. It was hers. All of it. Battered and charred. All those pieces she’d managed to put together again.

I love you, I love you, I love you… He tattooed the words against her lips, never giving them sound. It was a reflex he didn’t know how to shake, like trying to speak after decades of keeping silent. Saying the words out loud would tear his last defense out of his reluctant hands and leave him naked, stranded, in territory where he’d have nothing to protect himself. But that wasn’t why. Not entirely.

People he’d told he loved, they all died. It seemed to be the only constant in his life that had never changed. And even though a part of him knew it was ridiculous to think that keeping those words to himself would protect her from that bloody curse, another, louder part of him wouldn’t dare take a chance.

What if he said it and lost her?

He buried his face in her hair, clutching her to him for fear she’d up and leave.

She didn’t. She returned his embrace, kissed his temple and murmured ‘I love you’ against his skin.

He craved it and it was selfish, but right now, being so close to her that it scorched him, he promised himself he’d show her. He’d show her that she meant everything to him, through his actions, his touch. And maybe…

Maybe one day he’d be brave enough to say it out loud.

*******

As they drove to Spike’s friends’ house in the early morning, she couldn’t stop thinking about the cat she’d shaken out of the bag. Those three words. She didn’t regret it, despite his lack of response.

She hadn’t said it because she expected him to repeat it. She’d done it because she could no longer hold it in. Because somehow, letting him know she loved him seemed more imperative than her pride. Or his fear. Oh, she sensed it. She couldn’t read his mind, couldn’t hope to understand everything that made him who he was, but she could read his face and body language like an open book.

He was holding back, but he felt it too.

She could see it every time he gave her a sidelong glance as he drove, as though he couldn’t keep his eyes off her for more than five minutes. Every time one of his hands would relinquish its hold on the steering wheel just to reach out and touch her hand, as though seeking reassurance that she was still there.

What was he so afraid of?

She had to stop thinking about it. That way only led to heartache.

“I’m nervous,” she said, wringing her hands. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Then I’ll tell them to sod off. But there’s not a chance it’ll happen. I know they’ll love you,” he said, taking in a sharp breath as though preparing to say something more. But then it passed and she willed her heart to stop galloping. “Joyce will mother you so much it will make you want to run away screaming.”

“That’s not helping. You’re just making me more nervous.” She paused. “Meanie.”

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll be there to save you from her clutches.”

“My hero,” she said with a saccharine smile and fluttering eyelashes. “All you need is a white horse.”

“Bugger that. Last time I was anywhere near a horse, it almost bit my fingers off.”

She snorted a laugh.

“Oi! No laughing.” A smirk curled his lips and she knew he was having dirty thoughts. “Especially since I know you’re quite fond of my fingers… and what they can do to you.”

Yup, she’d been right. And also, flashbacks. Not of the good, especially when he was driving and she couldn’t tackle him to have her wicked way with him.

“So, Joyce’s husband’s name is… Rupert?”

“Yeah.” Spike grinned. “Changing the topic so quickly?”

“Do you really want to get all worked up when we’ll be there in a few minutes?”

He squirmed in his seat, grimacing. “Good point. But you better believe I’ll sneak into your room later at night to rehash this.”

“B-but… people… in the house with us.”

“Think you can’t keep quiet?”

When he did that thing with his tongue that made her limbs twitch and her brain to go on vacation? No. “Of course I can. I just worry that you can’t keep down all the grunting and growling.”

“Maybe we should have a little contest, what do you say? See who makes a louder sound.”

She straightened up. There’s no way she’d let him win. “What do I get when I win?”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“Well, considering my dad has super hearing and my room was close to his, I’d say yes. Keeping the noise down was kind of a must.”

“Been a busy girl I take it?” Those hooded eyes made her insides quiver. “God, bet you’d be a sight… all naked and spread out with your fingers stroking your wet, little pu—”

“Okay! No more talkie.” Her cheeks were flaming and she’d be surprised if her skin didn’t catch fire. “Let’s forget I said that.”

“Oh, no.” The grin on his face made her regret the embarrassing moment of verbal diarrhea. “Now I know what I want if I win. Or when I win.”

She was almost afraid to ask. Almost. “What?”

“You. Touching yourself like you do when there’s no one there to lend a hand. Want to watch you.”

She gulped. “Spike, I’m not sure if I can. It’s too…”

“Then you better make sure you don’t lose.”

The worst thing? With that look in his eyes, she wasn’t all that sure she wanted to win.

“What do I get?” she asked.

“What do you want?”

The question was, what didn’t she want? But instead of acting on her immediate desires, she decided to go for something more. Something important. “If I win… I want you to promise me that you’ll trust me to be at your side.”

His brows furrowed. “I already do.”

“Not just in a random fight. I mean… at all times. Even when… even with Angelus. When the time comes.”

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, and she knew it wasn’t fair to ask that of him. Not when Angelus had cost him so much already, but she needed to be there. Somewhere between falling in love with Spike and wanting to watch his back, and getting attacked due to being on Angelus’ Most Wanted list, it had become personal.

And Spike still wasn’t answering.

“Spike?”

His grip relaxed. “All right.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He swallowed. “You know I… I do trust you.”

She searched his face for a clue that he was lying, but there was none to be found. There was nothing but acceptance and she promised herself at that moment, as they were parking in front of a yellow-painted suburban house, that she wouldn’t let him down.

*******

As soon as the doorbell rang, Joyce knew who the visitors were. Good thing William had called in advance as it gave her the advantage to stock up on groceries to fatten him up.

Wiping her flour covered hands on the heart-dotted apron, she raced to open the front door. It took her less than a second to get over the shock of seeing the jagged scars on the girl’s face. It wasn’t the first or the last she’d see, especially being a wife of a demon hunter. She took it in stride and ushered them both inside. “Come on you two. You must be starving!”

“You always think I’m starving,” William noted, and she didn’t miss the way he squeezed the girl’s shoulder, offering reassurance in the midst of unfamiliar surroundings. The way he looked at her, with more softness that Joyce had ever seen in his eyes.

“You must be Buffy,” she said, enfolding the petite girl in a hug. “William talked a lot about you the last time he stayed here.”

“Hope it wasn’t anything bad.” Buffy’s eyes darted between her and William.

“Only if being completely smitten with you is bad.” Ah, saying that was worth just for the grin on Buffy’s face and the way Spike’s eyes widened in horror. Men. They were so sensitive.

“Joyce!”

She deliberately chose to misunderstand his outrage and pulled him into her arms, leaving a red coloured print of her lips on his left cheek. “Oh, come on. I’m not leaving you out. Got a hug for you too, young man.”

He sputtered and protested but she knew he secretly loved it when she mothered him. When she finally let him go, his cheeks were turning pink and he was rubbing the back of his neck.

“Come sit in the kitchen with me.” She smiled at Buffy, hoping to make her feel welcome. “There are so many stories about William here that I’m sure he hasn’t told you.”

“Oh, I’d love to hear them!” They shared a smile and left Spike to trail after them, his shoulders slumped.

“Bloody hell.”

*******

“He did not!”

Spike was in hell. This was worse than if someone had trapped him in a room with 80’s disco on repeat. And why, out of all stories, did Joyce have to choose this one?

“Oh, I assure you that he did,” Joyce said, dumping a sugar cube into her coffee and stirring it with her spoon.

“How’s Rupert then?”

The second attempt to steer the conversation in a slightly less ‘let’s make fun of Spike’ way failed. They both ignored him and giggled over his misfortune like a couple of schoolgirls.

“So, he just came in completely naked?”

“Yes. Well, except for his boots and he used his hands to cover himself, but,” she leaned in closer to Buffy but he could still hear it when she added, “it didn’t really cover much.”

Buffy’s eyes sparkled when she shot him a heated glance and he just knew what kinds of naughty ideas were running through that mind of hers. Well, see if he’d show her the goodies anytime soon. He slumped back into the sofa, hoping to blend into the upholstery.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was just down in the kitchen making some hot chocolate because I couldn’t sleep and he almost gave me a heart attack, sneaking into the house in the middle of the night without a stitch on.”

“The demon spat acid,” he jumped in, not even caring that his voice had gained a whiny note. “I had to take my clothes off!” And walk across the entire city, trying to dodge curious stares of any late passers by. But he would not say that out loud because they were already laughing their asses off.

Luckily, he heard the front door open and shut. Rupert. Thank God. He didn’t know whether he could take any more of the reminiscing and as much as he wanted to stay in the living room to potentially halt any other things Joyce may let slip, he knew it was fruitless. There was no stopping that woman. Either of them, come to think of it.

He jumped to his feet and strode out as quickly as he could while hanging onto the rest of his dignity.

*******

He’d barely seen Buffy for the rest of the day since Joyce had practically kidnapped her and he’d been busy helping Rupert with the translation. Now that they had the weapon, it was easier to forge ahead. It would be soon. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones, the deep-seated itch that left him restless, unable to sleep. That, and he missed Buffy. At some point she’d become an integral part of his life, like water and oxygen and chocolate.

God, there was so much to lose.

The door to his room opened silently but he caught it anyway, every cell in his body trained to be on alert.

“Are you up?” Soft footfalls then the mattress behind him dipped. “Spike?”

“Yeah, ‘m up.” He rolled onto his back and peered at the dark silhouette of her face. “Is everything all right?”

Her head ducked as she fidgeted with the edge of the nightgown that rode up a few inches above her knees. “I’m fine. I just thought…”

“I missed you.” Why the hell did he say that? Couldn’t be more of a ponce if he tried.

“Me too.”

A part of him relaxed, glad she hadn’t put him on the spot for acting like a lovesick fool.

“I thought you’d come to my room.” She tucked an errant lock behind her ear. “You’re not mad at me for laughing at that story, are you? I wouldn’t want you to feel like I was laughing at you. I wasn’t.” He couldn’t see her expression in the darkness that well, but hearing sadness tinting her lovely voice twisted his gut into knots. “I felt bad after… b-because you kind of stormed out and then I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you all day, an—”

“Not mad.” He grasped her elbow and pulled her down so they lay on their sides, facing each other. “Just embarrassed as hell. But if it makes you smile I’ll streak around the house right now. Though I’ll admit it wasn’t nice, the way you two ganged up on me. I expect compensation.”

She smiled against his neck, pressed a kiss there and he was a goner. God help him. He was in deep.

“I love you,” she said, each syllable sinking into his flesh like sunlight during a lazy summer day. Yet he had to force himself to relax and she must have caught the slight tension in him for she shifted higher to lean her forehead against his and said, “I know you’re not… I’m not telling you because I expect you to say it back. I just… have to. I want you to know.”

“It’s not because I don’t…” His harsh exhale stirred a strand of her hair that fell against her cheek. How could he explain it in a way she’d understand? In a way that wouldn’t sound ridiculous to his own ears?

“I know, Spike. I know.” She kissed him, a lightest brush of her lips that was gone before he could respond. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

His racing thoughts came to a halt when she kissed him again, this time deeply, exploring him as though she’d never kissed him before. He was drunk on the taste of her.

“Want to find out who wins the bet?”

It took him a moment to realise she was speaking, and what she was speaking of. When he did, all traces of sleep were gone in a flash and all he could think of was, “You’re beautiful, you know that? Want you so much right now.”

Her arm curled around his waist, her thigh sliding over his hip so sensuously he couldn’t wait to tear her knickers off.

“Do you have… thingies?”

“Thingies?”

She bit his bottom lip. “You know, for protection.”

Leaving the warmth of her flesh in order to fumble inside the bedside drawer just about killed him. There was a brief moment of panic before his fingertips grazed a couple of cool foil packages.

A sigh of relief. “Yup, got it.”

She was nibbling on his neck, that sensitive spot that almost made him drop the condom. “Hurry.”

“Need to make sure you’re—”

“Spike, please.”

His blood rushed south at those words and he pushed the duvet down so there would be one less layer separating them, and rolled them over to bring her on top. Bloody brilliant that he’d gone to bed naked.

He loved seeing her like that, with her skin bathed in a blueish hue as he whipped the gown over her head, all squirming and breathless. And she wasn’t wearing knickers at all.

He gulped.

She was the embodiment of innocent seduction. He loved watching his hands trace the curves and valleys of her flesh, feeling her tremble and arch into his touch when he pinched her nipples, dipped lower to caress her belly. He loved how utterly she belonged to him.

“You’re teasing me.” The words rode on a gasp and he pressed a finger against her lips.

“Shh, better keep quiet now. Don’t wanna lose the bet.”

She bit his fingertip then sucked his forefinger into her hot mouth up to the second knuckle, her tongue tracing nonsensical patterns on the sensitive fingertip. God, the things she did to him.

She released it with a pop as he drew her to him, craving the taste of her, the texture of her lips against his.

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“Wouldn’t mind you sucking on other things.” The smirk couldn’t be helped.

Her thighs clenched around his hips and the liquid heat of her nearly drove his control past the point of no return.

“I want to… if you, if you tell me when I mess up.”

His hands flew to her hips, gripping but not hard enough to bruise. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Bloody hell.”

“I’ve never… I will probably suck.”

“That’s the idea.” He bit back the unmanly squeak provoked by her fingernails scraping his ribs. Wouldn’t do to let her know he was ticklish.

“You’ll tell me what you like?”

He nodded, swallowing heavily as she moved down his body. “Want you to feel like you can do anything, kitten. Never be afraid to tell me, or to try something you want. I’ll love everything you do.”

She smiled and then she was licking him like he was a bloody ice cream cone that she’d been craving for days.

“Y-yeah, just like that.” His fingers tangled in her hair. “The tip is… fuck!”

“Shh. The bet.”

“Don’t care. You won, just… t-take me in.”

Her soft lips glided down and the sight of it was almost more than he could take. He guided her subtly, caressing the slender nape of her neck. His grip on control was tenuous at best and he knew that if he’d let her continue he’d end up giving her a hell of a surprise eventually. Not how he wanted this particular soiree to end.

“Got to be inside you.”

He pulled her up, their lips meeting blindly as she chanted, “please, please, please.” It was his undoing.

They fumbled to get the condom on and then she was sinking down, his blood thundering with every inch submerged in her pulsing heat.

“I didn’t think it would…” She ran out of breath.

“What?” he prompted her, hands flowing over the curve of her hips and waist as she slowly adjusted to something new, gave in to her instincts.

“G-get even… better.”

“Gets better… every time.”

Her head lolled on her neck and he had to bite his lip when she clamped down on him hard, trapping him inside.

“You’ll kill me.”

“But what a way to go, eh?”

Her palms fell on the mattress on either side of his head, her body curved closer to his and he drunkenly stroked the length of her back. There was nothing but her.

When she shuddered, picked up the pace and whispered with a shaky voice, “Spike, I think… I might scream,” he had to bite down on her arm to muffle his own moan.

He slammed her hips down and swallowed her cry in a kiss, their hips colliding in a frantic staccato as he followed her over the edge.

As they slowly climbed down from their high, he held her to him tightly, breathing in the scent of her skin, already craving more.

“Who… Who won the bet?”

He chuckled. “How about we call it a draw?”

“We weren’t too loud, were we?”

“Oh, you were a banshee if I ever saw one. Screaming bloody murder.”

She bit him on the neck, but all it did was make him want to start a second round.

“So, fifty-fifty?” she asked.

Yeah, he liked that idea. “Sounds fair to me.”

He wasn’t worried about the future. Right now, at this moment, all that existed was the two of them, in this self-created pocket of the universe.

With her at his side, he knew he couldn’t lose.

TBC



Chapter End Notes:
Hope you found Spike's response to Buffy's confession believable. Let me know if you liked the chapter. You know I love reading your comments. :)



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