During the course of her short life, Buffy had lived in some pretty tense situations. Like when her parents had been on the verge of divorce and the atmosphere had dropped way below freezing, or the past few months when Buffy’s fantasies about her mother’s husband had strained any kind of kinship she felt with the older woman. But nothing compared to the atmosphere between Spike and Buffy since their little bump and grind session the previous week.
For all the warmth they had been getting off of each other, they might as well have been living in freaking Siberia.
Not that they had seen each other much. When she wasn’t at school, she spent her time holed up in her room, trying not to let any of the pain that she felt over Spike, or over the loss of her Mom seep through the hard façade she had constructed. Spike spent most of his time drunk out of his skull or out, no doubt littering the local bars with his unwanted presence.
What made it exponentially worse were the dreams of Spike touching her that plagued the few hours of sleep she had every night. His large hands running over her body, relentlessly taking her to insurmountable heights, over and over again, until every nerve cell in her body cried out for the inevitable release. Every night these dreams came and every night they ended the same way. With her lying on the cold floor and him reminding her that nothing could ever come of what they shared together. That a few pecks on her neck was the extent of the passion that could peak between them. That she was nothing more than a child to him.
Even with the soul shattering ending that she endured to those dreams, she still preferred them to the ones where she impotently watched a faceless man gun down her mother. Those were the nights that she woke screaming. Moments later, just like clockwork she always heard the creak of the floorboards as Spike crept outside her room to peer through the crack in the door to check on her. However much she despised him right now, something about that was infinitely reassuring.
Sitting at the kitchen table alone, pushing food around her plate, she loathed the way the thoughts once again bombarded her, like viruses breaking down the walls she was trying to build around herself. Sometimes she wished she could shut everything off, and just escape from life.
It was moments like those that the peaceful repose of death seemed more than a little tempting.
It was already dark outside, and Spike still wasn’t home, she realized as she glanced out of the window. Which was definitely of the good. Because she so did not want to see him. She was on the hating Spike train. No, she was the fucking driver of the hating Spike train, and if Spike wanted to stay out and drink himself into one of his alcohol induced comas, then she did not care at all. No Siree.
Setting her fork down and picking up her barely touched plate of tuna and potatoes, she brushed her casual sweatpants down, and went to scrape the cold congealed food off into the trash. In all honesty it had tasted like salty cardboard, but that’s what she got cooking for herself. Under no circumstances, however, would she eat anything that Spike prepared for her.
There was no way she was putting anything of his in her mouth.
Wait…that thought sounded way less dirty in her head.
With an exaggerated sigh, she dumped the empty plate into the sink and was about to make her way to her bedroom when she heard the chime of the doorbell. Frowning slightly she turned and cautiously pulled open the door, trying to hide her grimace when she saw the shyly nervous face of her visitor.
“Willow.” She greeted flatly, not trying to hide her lack of enthusiasm to see her recently conspicuously absent friend standing there.
Of course, logically Buffy knew that it was a little helping of insane with a side of unfair to be mad at her former best friend for allowing herself to be pushed away by Buffy’s cold aloofness, but recently the rational side of life wasn’t the side that Buffy had walked on.
The redhead offered a little half smile, and wrung her hands as the nerves coursed through her.
“Buffy! Hi, listen, I was just in the…um…neighborhood, and I thought I’d stop by. And, well, I know I haven’t exactly been around lately. I’ve been all Bad-Friend-Willow. But I really want to make it right. And you know, with me the guilt stops me from doing anything else, and I can’t even study, and…”
“Willow!” Buffy raised her voice to interrupt the guilty tirade of the other girl’s ramblings. “You’re babbling. And it’s okay. Really.” She heaved a sigh and raked her fingers through her messy hair. “Do you…want to come in for a coffee?”
Willow nodded, and for the first time in a while Buffy felt a genuine smile dance over her lips, as she opened the door wider to allow her friend inside.
Several minutes later they were seated at the kitchen table both sipping on their steaming cups of coffee and trying to fight the awkwardness that was rapidly descending upon them again.
“Buffy, I really wanted to say I’m sorry. Not just for not being around lately, but for what happened to…to your Mom. She was a great lady.” The timid apology touched Buffy’s heart and she nodded.
“She was a great lady. We didn’t always get along, but she was my Mom and I’m gonna miss her. I think…no, I know I’m not ready to talk about it. It still doesn’t feel real yet. Can’t exactly say I’m looking forward to the day that it does feel real.”
“I think everyone was shocked.” Willow agreed. “I hope they catch the guy that did it. It’s ooky to think he’s still out there somewhere.”
“Thanks for reminding me. “ Buffy drawled dryly, feeling her whole body tense.
“Sorry.” The redhead grimaced, and flashed her friend an apologetic smile.
“It’s okay, you can’t worry about walking on eggshells with me. I’m not gonna break. I’m all solidy and unbreaky. See?” She rapped on her head with her knuckles, drawing a tight smile from her companion.
“I know. But you’ve been through a hard time. And even before that, we didn’t see you for so long, and we all missed you. I missed having these girly talks. I’ve tried with Anya, but she just talks about penises, and Xander doesn’t really have the boobies for girl-talk.”
Buffy giggled, and patted Willow’s hand.
“You know, they all missed you too, Buffy.” She continued. “If you wanted…everyone will be at the Bronze tonight, and I know they would love to see you.”
“I don’t think so, Wills. Right now me and the fun-times are kinda unmixy, and I don’t wanna come and ruin all of your nights. I’m much better being stay at home Wallowy-Buffy at the moment.”
“Well, when you’re feeling better, you’ll come with us right?”
Seeing the hopeful expression on Willow’s face, Buffy gave a firm nod.
“Wild horses won’t keep me away.”
Seemingly appeased, Willow gulped down a mouthful of her coffee, almost spitting it right back out in fright, when a black clad figure crashed through the back door, almost barreling into the countertop.
The stench of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke filled the room immediately and Buffy winced as she took in the state of the man standing in front of her, especially with the budding awareness of the matching frown that marred her friend’s face.
Spike was dressed in a ripped T-shirt, his chest stained with a scattering of bruises. His face was similarly injured, and a little blood was crusted onto his black jeans.
Buffy jumped to her feet and angrily strutted over to him.
“Have you been fighting?” She demanded, with no preamble. His eyes locked onto hers, and he sneered.
“What sodding business is it of yours, little girl?” He pushed his face toward hers, only inches separating them, and she violently jerked away from him.
“Ugh, you’re drunk and disgusting!” She exclaimed as she caught a whiff of his heavily boozy breath. “And I don’t care what you do. But if you get yourself killed in one of those stupid fights you seem so freaking fond of lately, don’t come crying to me.”
“Yeah, better you’d rather it was something else other than crying that I did to you.” He intoned in a low velvety voice into her ear, quietly enough that only she could hear.
Jerking her head wildly, she seemed to make Spike aware that she wasn’t alone in the room, and she hid her flushed face as he sauntered over to Willow and plopped down into an empty seat at the table.
“Red!” He exclaimed as if he were greeting an old friend. “Haven’t seen you around here in a while. Thought you two had had a little falling out. Not that I’d have been bloody well surprised. Little Buffy here’s not an easy bint to get along with.” Slurred words merged into a blurry laugh.
“Spike! Shut up!” He turned to Buffy to see her face flaming with both embarrassment and anger.
“Just telling my good friend, Willow-tree here a few home truths.”
“Willow is not your friend.”
“She didn’t seem to be yours either recently. I wonder what it was you did to drive her away.”
“Oh, yeah, because I’m the only one who drives people away, huh, Spike?”
“Maybe not, but you seem to do a buggering good job of it, you stupid chit.”
Willow watched in a mélange of awe and fear at the back and forth arguing between the pair. If she didn’t know better she would have thought they were an old married couple, as she watched the heat and tension rise to almost breaking point between them. She felt more than a little uncomfortable. It was like getting stuck in a frisky couple’s closet on their wedding night. There was gonna be some stuff you didn’t want to see, but you just couldn’t look away.
“Uh…guys? Guys? Guys!”
The noise came to a halt as both their heads whipped toward Willow.
“Yeah, okay, you guys clearly have…um…issues that you need to talk about, so I’m just gonna go.” She began to back away. “I can see myself out.”
“No girly night for you two chits then, pet? Would have thought that you would wanna paint each others’ nails and talk about your teenybopper crushes.”
“We’re not 12, Spike, and…anyway…we’re going out tonight.” Buffy announced, tossing Willow a meaningful look that she failed to quite catch.
“But I thought you said you didn’t want to…” The petite redhead started but Buffy interrupted with a loud, slightly crazed guffaw.
“No! Willow, you must have gotten confused. I told you how I couldn’t wait to go out tonight. Remember?” The edge to Buffy’s voice told her that there was no other choice but to nod and smile as feasibly as possible.
Buffy was glad that her friend seemed to have gotten with the picture now, even if her acting skills were a little sketchy. She didn’t care right now anyway. All she wanted to was to get out of the damn house and awat from the man that could infuriate her and stimulate her lusty senses in the space of a single sentence.
With false joviality, the blonde girl skipped over to the stairs.
“I’m going to get ready. Be right down.”
Not realizing her stepfather had his eyes glued to her every movement, she jogged up the stairs.
When Buffy was gone Spike tried to hide the weary sigh that threatened to escape from his lips. Looking up he was surprised to see the teenager in front of him studying him carefully. Suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope, he searched his brain for something to say.
“Did you do something to your hair?” He asked, visibly flinching at his own inanity.
“Um…I had it trimmed.” She replied wearing a peculiar expression.
“It looks good. Bouncy.”
“Thanks.”
She glanced at her watch, and then at her empty coffee cup.
“I like yours too.” At his questioning look she expanded. “Your hair. It’s very…1970s.”
“Yeah.” He tapped on the table.
Silence stretched between them, and in spite of the occasional comment exchanged between them, this seemed worse than Chinese water torture.
God, would this never end? Where the bleeding hell was the bint?
As if his prayers were answered, a few moments later the pair heard the creaking of the stairs and breathed audible sighs of relief.
However, when she came into view, she left them both speechless.
In only a half hour, Buffy had transformed herself from couch potato to wanton sex goddess. Her body was clad with a tight fitting blood red dress that was so short, Spike wondered if it wasn’t illegal. Black leather boots strewn with oversized buckles stretched up to her knees. Her pouting lips were as rouged as her dress, and her eyes were smoky and sensual. To complete the look her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders.
Just looking at her, Spike could feel his mouth had become as dry as cotton. And his brain felt just as cottony as his mouth.
Realizing the effect she was having on him, he also realized the effect she would have on any other straight male in the entire town, and slipped effortlessly into the tried and tested parental mode.
“You’re not going out dressed like that.” He told her, almost petulantly.
“As if you’re gonna stop me.” She shot back venomously. “I’m just a kid, right Spike? So see this as a fucking childish rebellion.”
“Don’t you dare walk out that door, Buffy. I bloody well mean it!”
Ignoring his stuttering fury, she turned to her friend. “Come on Wills. Let’s make this a night to remember.”
For a moment she thought he might grab her and physically stop her leaving. Either that or have a heart attack. But he did neither, simply clenching and unclenching his fists at his side to keep them from punching a hole in the wall.
Without any further acknowledgment, Buffy defiantly linked arms with her friend, and pulled her out of the kitchen, slamming the front door as they left.
Why the bloody hell did she have to dress like that?
More to the point who the bloody hell did she think she was, defying his authority?
He planned to have that out with her. She needed a good spanking…maybe with handcuffs…and a leather bustier.
No! No good could come of that kind of thinking. Well…he might have a wank or two over it later.
But that didn’t count.
Since their relationship had passed the boundaries of stepfather to stepdaughter, Spike had really been trying to avoid thinking about her in any way but as a daughter. However, seeing her tonight had proved that his feelings were anything but fatherly. As soon as he saw her, all his good work of avoiding her and drinking away the emotions were shattered, and he felt that passion bubbling to the surface once again. He didn’t think that he had ever felt that kind of thing for Buffy while Joyce was alive. But he wondered if he ever felt that way for Joyce. In fact he wasn’t sure if he had ever known that raw kind of passion that had almost engulfed him when she had been merely wiggling on his lap the other night.
And the fighting between them…well hell if it didn’t make him a million times hotter to exchange heated words with her, and to see her get frustrated, and mad, all flushed in her face. The same way she would look writhing underneath him in his bed.
He felt like he was being punished in some way. And although he knew he deserved punishment for his sins, this was the cruelest kind of punishment that could be dished out to him.
Yeah, it was fucked up on so many levels that he couldn’t even count, and he was well aware of that. But even worse, he also knew that if the labyrinth of secrets he was hiding ever unraveled, then Buffy would never forgive him.
Glancing down to the erection straining at his pants from the image that was burned into his mind of his forbidden stepdaughter dressed as a potential porn star, Spike growled.
“Bugger!”
Time for that bloody wank.
[Reviews - 51]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 2309 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you for reviewing. Reviews inspire me. :) Here is the next chapter, and it's pretty long, so I hope everyone enjoys!
EDIT: I accidentally posted this as chapter THREE, but there was a chapter I missed, which is now posted. So if you haven't read the previous chapter, then please go back and read it, as this will make a lot more sense following on from that.
EDIT: I accidentally posted this as chapter THREE, but there was a chapter I missed, which is now posted. So if you haven't read the previous chapter, then please go back and read it, as this will make a lot more sense following on from that.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading. Please review.