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Author's Chapter Notes:
Previously: We learned the scythe has to be used by Buffy and Spike flipped out!

This chapter follows that little revelation. Hope you enjoy!

Beta'd by All4Spike. She's made of win!
Chapter 46

She didn’t have to look to know that it was Spike. Somehow she’d come to learn the pattern of his breath, the weight of his step, so it came as no surprise when he sat down next to her on the steps of the back porch. It was becoming a habit, them meeting like this when things got a bit too much to handle.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

A shrug, hopefully careless. “I’m okay.”

Warm fingers met skin as he combed her hair away from her face. “This is me, you know. Everything doesn’t have to be all rainbows and kittens.”

“I prefer puppies,” she said, flicking him a smile.

“Looks like we’ll have to break up then,” he teased back, his hand sliding away. “The furry buggers like to chew on things and this coat was too expensive to become a doggy toy.”

“That old thing?” A corner of her lips quirked in a quick grin, and when he looped an arm around her slumped shoulders she immediately sagged against his side.

“You know you love it. Makes me look like a badass.” His lips pressed against her temple, resting there.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, hoping the falling night would swallow the sound of her voice.

“You’d be stupid not to be.” His voice dipped low, matching the solemnity in hers. “You know what he’s capable of. The things he… you know.”

She better than knew. She’d lived through it, through shared grief and heartbreak. But even knowing that, Spike wasn’t pulling away. Instead he enfolded her even tighter in the one-armed embrace, as though he could shield her from the evil breathing through the air.

“I’m not just worried about myself. I’m worried about you too,” she said.

“I know how you feel. That’s what happens when yo—”

His phone rang, Sid Vicious singing at the top of his lungs, and she suddenly remembered that the outside world still existed. Funny how quickly Spike could make her forget.

“Speak,” Spike said and she had to smile at his lack of phone call etiquette. That was him, rude and impatient, until one cared to look deeper under the surface and realised there was so much more. A man who loved and lost and teased and cared.

“Calm down and describe it,” he addressed the caller, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the curling ends of her hair. “What’s your address?”

He nodded even though the person at the other end couldn’t see him. “Got it. You’re lucky I’m not that far away. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

There was a hysterical babble that even she could hear and Spike drew the phone away from his ear before yelling into the speaker, “Bloody hell, just shut your trap and sit tight!”

The babble ceased.

He brought the phone closer to his ear again. “I’ll be there in a tick. Just lock yourself in your bedroom and don’t come out until I say so.”

Without saying goodbye, Spike ended the call and groaned against the top of her head.

“Who was that?” she couldn’t help but ask. “Sounded serious.”

“A new client, apparently. The bint almost screamed my bloody ear off.”

“Oh. Is she in danger? Is it a demony thing?”

“No and yes.”

“But you told her not to come out of her room.”

Spike smirked. “Well, yeah. Don’t need her to get under my feet. Based on her description, sounds like a Kha’lar demon. Peaceful sort. They’re scavengers, not harmful to humans.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“They like shiny stuff. Kitsch. She probably caught one in her house and went bonkers.” Spike rose to his feet and she suddenly felt uncertain. As if he was reading her mind, he extended one hand to help her up and asked, “You up to a little trip?”

With a nod, she followed him into the house.

*******

The next week passed frighteningly fast and she’d have moments of near full-blown panic followed by hard-headed determination to conquer her fear of the looming deadline. As she washed the tiredness of the day off her skin, she just hoped ‘dead’ wouldn’t be the key word.

It was becoming harder and harder to keep the truth from Hank every time he’d call to check on her. Just hearing the sound of his voice made her wish she was a child again, that child who had been so irrevocably certain Dad could fix everything. But he couldn’t. It was up to her and the weight of it was nearly crushing. Nearly, but not enough to make her knees buckle. That wasn’t how she’d been brought up. If there was a problem, she dealt with it.

She had spent the days with Spike, sparring or roaming the streets at night to further hone her skills. She’d never realised that the spectrum of demons was so colourful and that some of them could be so disgustingly slimy. But no matter how gross she and Spike ended up, they’d always get dirty in a much more pleasurable way once the fight was over. She smiled, drying herself with a fluffy white towel and putting on clean clothes. There was just something about all that adrenaline pumping that had them jumping each other as if they had been keeping a reluctant vow of celibacy for years. Good thing Giles and Joyce had gone out.

Once she entered the guest bedroom that was currently hers, her gaze shot straight to Spike who was sprawled on his back over the double bed, watching her with hooded eyes.

“Did you have a nice shower?” he asked, an impish smile curling his lips because he’d raced her to bathroom and gotten to shower before her. He knew very well that she was reluctant to use the other bathroom that was adjacent to Joyce and Giles’ bedroom.

“It doesn’t count as a race when you say it after you already have a head start!”

The bastard chuckled and trailed a hand down his bare torso only to stop to cup the front of his unbuttoned jeans. Good thing it was zipped up because the sight was too much of a temptation as it was and she wanted to stay annoyed just a little bit longer.

“Perhaps you ought to punish me?”

Pouting wouldn’t get her very far, would it? Better have her revenge in a way he wouldn’t see coming.

“I like that idea.” She slinked closer, climbed onto the mattress and crawled over to where he was half lying, half-slouching against the headboard. “Maybe I should tease all the right spots?”

He let out a hiss, his abdomen taut as she dragged her fingertips down his belly and leaned down to kiss his hipbones.

“You’ve been bad, Spike. Making me wait for a shower; stealing almost all of the hot water.” She nipped the waistband of his jeans then knelt up to straddle his straining thighs. “What should I do to punish you?”

He blinked heavily, gripped her hips and pulled her unabashedly right over his lap. He was obviously very happy to see her. Damn it. This whole teasing business was getting to her too. Better do what she’d planned before he turned her into a complete ho-biscuit.

She bit her lips and rested her palms on his abdomen. “I have a question for you.”

“Huh?”

“A question.”

He nodded, looking at her as if she was already naked.

“Does this tickle?”

His brows furrowed and then shot straight up as she gripped him hard with her thighs to keep him from bucking her off, and dived down to tickle all his sensitive spots.

“B-buf—” He burst out laughing, an uncontrollable, loud sound that made her giggle.

“Come on, Spike. Just tell me.”

He was trying to roll her off but she held fast and took advantage of his highly ticklish nature. He was laughing so hard he was crying, but still he never answered her question. That wouldn’t do.

“If you don’t tell me if this tickles, then how am I supposed to know?”

“Y-y—”

“No, that’s not good enough.” She dug into his ribs with renewed vigour.

Spike was twisting and trying to push her hands off, but at this point he was too weak to really do anything but lie there and take her abuse. His cheeks were flushed and he finally managed to sputter something resembling ‘yes’, so she decided to have mercy on him and stopped.

“You… you…” His laughter tapered off into chuckles and he finally rolled her over and under the familiar weight of his body. “Evil.”

“That’ll teach you to get between me and a hot shower.”

“Bloody hell… feel like I’ve done a hundred sit-ups,” he said raggedly and propped his forehead against her shoulder. “Not nice to take advantage of a man’s weakness like that.”

“Sorry,” she said with no remorse. And he knew it too because he mock-glared then nipped at her jaw. “’S not fair because I can’t even give you a dose of your own medicine. You’re not ticklish.”

“Nope.” She grinned, hands caressing his back. She loved his back. How the muscles would roll when he was making love to her, how broad his shoulders were, the elegant taper of his waist, even the faintest scars marring the velvet of his skin.

He wasn’t one to hold a grudge and stilled her thoughts with a kiss that made her toes curl and set her blood on fire. Unapologetic, possessive, eager, he curled his tongue around hers, drew it into his mouth and growled deep within his chest in the way that made her pulse triple and every nerve ending in her body tingle with need.

Then his lips were gone and it took her a moment to register the devilish glint in his eyes as he pulled away. “Forgot to tell you the food arrived while you were in the shower. Better eat before it gets cold. Or, well… colder.”

“But I want Spike smoochies.” She wasn’t very proud of herself, but she pouted.

“Wishes and horses, kitten.” He gave a quick peck on her lips but was gone before she could convince him to stay.

“There are horses now?” She watched him wander off to get the food but she had to admit she was hungrier for him than she was for the Chinese takeout.

He plopped down on the bed with a bounce, tilted his head and just looked at her. There was something in his eyes that made her drop her gaze with humility. She wondered whether he knew how much he betrayed without saying any words at all.

She rummaged through the containers to distract herself. “Oh, fortune cookies!”

“God, I love you.”

Her hand froze mid-reach and she braved a look at him. He seemed more stunned than she felt. He’d probably never meant for the words to slip out. She could make a big deal out of it and drag the confession out of him again, but she didn’t want to. Not when she’d already known for quite some time that he loved her.

“I love you too,” she said instead, but he still had that scared, guilty look on his face. As if he’d betrayed someone else’s secret. “Can I have the dim sum?”

He shook his head and nodded. “Buffy…”

There was infinity in his eyes, pain and fear and love she’d seen there every time he’d glance upon her. But didn’t he know it wasn’t supposed to hurt?

“I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to say it,” he muttered, almost an apology.

She tried not to let it affect her and relinquished her hold on the dim sum container in order to hold his trembling hand. “Why not?”

“Because… because now…” He squeezed his eyes shut but never shook off her touch. “I bloody cursed you now.”

“What?” She’d never expected him to say anything like this. For some time, she’d suspected it had something to do with Drusilla, but maybe she’d thought wrong.

“Don’t you see?” His gaze was pleading, wounded. “Everyone I ever told…” He exhaled, sharply, as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.

It struck her, the sudden understanding. “Spike, it doesn’t work that way.”

“I know it doesn’t. Logically, I know, but…”

She took him in her arms, glad he didn’t resist. Instead, he collapsed against her, clutched almost too tight. “Nothing’s going to happen. And if anything does, it won’t be because you told me you loved me.”

He buried his face in her neck, his hair tickling her skin. “Don’t even say that. Couldn’t bear it… if something happened to you.”

“And nothing will. The two of us? We’re the best team, right? No way am I giving this up. Giving you up.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he mumbled then reluctantly dragged himself at arms’ length and looked her dead in the eye. “I won’t fail you.”

“I know you won’t,” she said, twisting her index finger in a curl that had been knocked loose during his shower.

If there was anything she was certain of, it was Spike. That he’d do his best to have her back. She hoped he was starting to see it too.

*******

After the first confession, Spike had seemed to grow more comfortable with using the words out loud. Every time she’d tell him the same, his eyes would crinkle at the edges in the way she adored.

But as much as she loved him, there were parts of him that drove her up the wall. “Do you really have to?”

“Yes.” He pulled a cigarette out of the crumpled pack that had been stashed in the front pocket of his jeans and stuck the white stick between his lips. A snick of the Zippo lighter and the cigarette tip flared red.

“You look like you’re having way too much fun. Should I leave you two alone?”

He dragged in another blissful lungful and slowly let it out past his puckered lips. The smoke dispersed in the night air. “Jealous, pet?”

“You’re not kissing me with your ashtray mouth.” She grimaced, refusing to admit the sight of him smoking got her hot. It was not sexy! It was a nasty, disgusting habit. And so was he.

“But I’ve got chewing gum. And breath mints!”

“Why do you even like it? It tastes horrible.” And she’d know because he’d made her try it few days before and she’d almost died choking.

“Dunno. Makes me less… fidgety.”

They walked into an empty alley, just wandering around without a goal to strive for or a direction to follow. “You’ve been jumpy all day.”

“So you’ve noticed then, eh?”

“Yup.” His free hand reached down to tangle with hers and she readily accepted. “Is it because it’s… you know. We’re almost—”

“Partly.” He finished his cigarette quickly, almost as though he couldn’t wait to get to the end. The stub bounced off the pavement with an angry flicker of dying fire. “But I’d rather not talk about it just now. Want to be happy, with you. Right now.” He stopped walking and pulled her against his body. “Right here in this bloody dingy alley with a rubbish bin a few feet away.”

She snorted. “Well, a girl does like a bit of stinky romance.”

“Want me to play a bum? You could be a snooty rich bitch with a kink.” He sucked her earlobe into his hot mouth.

“Eww.”

“I concur,” came a disgruntled female voice from the mouth of the alley.

Their heads turned towards her and the rude comeback she knew Spike was ready to sling, died in his throat. The grip on her waist was starting to hurt and although she was touching him, he was miles away.

“Cat got your tongue, William?” The younger, female version of Spike glided closer, a porcelain doll hell bent on murder. But it wasn’t her that made Buffy’s breath stutter.

“He always had a lovely tongue,” purred the second female, a memory come to haunt them both.

“Dru,” Spike whispered, reverent and… young. As if the years stretching between his years at the foster home and the present day suddenly meant nothing. She should be angry and jealous, but all she felt was the echo of the love William used to feel for the damaged girl facing them now. And yet, her own awareness registered the underlying danger.

Seeing the woman in the flesh, a murderer dressed in pristine white, was something entirely different than half-remembered dreams and sketches. Drusilla commanded the air around, the shadows seemingly clinging to her every step, catering to her silent commands. She was deceptively fragile as she swayed closer to them, but her unblinking eyes dead set on Spike told Buffy she was little more than a predator.

“Spike, let’s go,” she urged, but he refused to budge. It was as if he’d been struck blind, too stunned to move.

“Are you coming to the party?” Drusilla asked with child-like curiosity. “You ought to bring a party hat.”

“She really likes those,” Eline confirmed with a nod, moving to stand next to Drusilla. “Plus points if they’re Cartoon themed.”

The odds weren’t good, Buffy realised. Not with Spike playing an impressive imitation of a living statue or the cold distance she felt when he finally moved, away from her.

It was as if she was a bystander that could only watch as Dru reached out and stroked the side of Spike’s face. But she didn’t have to just stand there and watch. She was about to say something when Spike caught Drusilla’s wrist in a crushing grip that didn’t even make her blink.

“Stop,” he said, his voice low and trembling.

“You used to like it. Used to arch close like a cat,” Drusilla said, looking sad.

“I’m sorry,” Spike said, swallowing hard. “Sorry I could do nothing… that you had to…”

“Always my bright knight, aren’t you, William?”

“He’s not yours anymore,” Buffy jumped in, bringing all set of eyes on her.

The way Drusilla stared at her was bordering on painful, that intense burning gaze that reached deep inside Buffy’s gut and twisted everything around.

“You’re going to burn to ashes, insides turning out,” Drusilla said, as if talking about weather.

“Let’s not be there when she does,” Eline remarked. “Highly flammable here, you know.”

Buffy realised what Spike was doing now, the way he’d moved away from her. In front of her. He’d ditched the duster because of the balmy night and her eyes darted from the stake wedged behind his waistband to search their surroundings for the best escape routes.

“Oh, but we will,” Drusilla said. “The pieces are falling into place and we shall not miss the pretty fireworks.”

“What are you talking about?” Spike asked, ashen but determined.

“I think you know, brother. And we have a message for you.”

TBC



Chapter End Notes:
The next chapter is the battle! *bites nails* I'll do my best to make it worth the wait. :)



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