Chapter Sixteen – Spike's Story
Every step she took down the stairs towards the sitting room made her insides go colder and colder. Buffy was unsure what was making her go into major wig mode, she had faced so many harrowing situations before she could barely enumerate them all, but for some reason the vampire sitting in the other room was making her feel jumpier than an apocalypse.
She didn’t bother trying to be stealthy as she approached him. He had probably heard the whole conversation they had about him upstairs but that was if he was listening, he didn’t look like he was listening. He was sitting on a Victorian couch-thing silently facing one of the tall windows. Looking like he wished the sun would rise and he could greet it.
That was it, Buffy realized. The quiet was unnerving her. That was why her insides were roiling. Spike was never quiet. He was rarely still. He was always complaining and ranting and putting his foot in his mouth. Even after being kidnapped and tortured by Genesis he wasn’t the poster boy of silent, desolate recuperation. He was constantly pacing and complaining and raving and driving her crazy. Every so often in that little flat in Picadilly, she wanted to be sullen and bad moody and he would be yelling at the mindless television and she very nearly dusted him. When she had stopped listening to him he talked to himself. He did that sometimes too when he thought she couldn’t hear him. Not now, though. He hadn't moved. This was serious. He was just sitting there.
She hovered in the door way, waiting to see if maybe her prescence would move him. No luck. She stood for what felt like an hour. He didn't give.
She took the time to study him, it was rare to find Spike so still, no sneering or chuckling or saying anything nasty. He wasn’t looking at her, buthe knew he was there. Her heart was pounding. There was no way in hell he couldn't hear that.
He looked so different from the vampire she knew in Sunnydale. He dressed no differently; he was still wearing drug store t-shirts and worn black jeans. In so many ways he was still Spike. He still smoked, and drank way too much and said stupid things and yet he was so immeasurably different. She just couldn’t put her finger on why.
Could be the hair, the golden brown thing was weird.
She thought he would be less striking without his signature look, but she was wrong. He was just as handsome. The dark golden-brown actually suited him, it softened the harsh cheek bones. It emphasized his blue eyes, it made him look more real than the brutal bleached blond had, not like a larger than life William the Bloody. If she was honest she wanted him to dye it back so he could be the Spike she remembered from Sunnydale and she didn’t have to think about how much he had changed. How much they had both changed, come to that.
“The watcher sent you.”
It wasn’t a question.
He was staring ahead like a statue, the room was towards the back of the house and the lightening day didn’t look like it was going to touch the vampire. It was a little strange seeing Spike in the daylight albeit indirectly.
“He’s, uh, worried about you.”
He chuckled. It was a hollow sinister sound.
“He’s worried.” He said sucking his teeth. When he looked at her his eyes felt like x-rays. “about what I might do, pet.”
Buffy shook her head about to refute him but something stayed her tongue. Wasn’t she a little bit worried about the same thing? Wasn’t that why she wanted more than anything to run back up to the upper floors? That and his stupid eyes that saw right through her all the time. Spike was ridiculously perceptive; he had always been ridiculously perceptive-guy. He knew she was worried about that also.
Her hesitation didn’t go unnoticed and the muscle in the vampire’s cheek tightened.
“Oxford sent you down here—”
“I know you best, Spike. We’re supposed to be in this together.”
She had acknowledged to Wesley that she was he only one who could speak to Spike but right in front of him she realized suddenly she had no idea what to do or say. After all this time with him, she realized, she didn’t really know what to say to an upset Spike. She was the one who leaned on him, she was the one who made her problems his problems. He would rant and rave but he never really said anything about his past. He let her be the talk-y one when the messy stuff started to come out. And she was good at talking. Not right now though, now she was scrambling for words and it looked like Spike was really just angry enough to explode.
“He sent you down here to keep me from killing down memory lane, slayer.” Spike said pointedly. “Whatever he might have told you, however much he likes to pretend we’re all copacetic, he’s worried about me and my heyday flashbacks so he sent the woman who’s carrying my sprog to remind me of sodding puppies and Christmas. He’s a smart man that Oxford.”
“Look, Spike I’m not sure what you expected—”
“A little speck, a modicum of trust would have been nice!” he roared, suddenly standing. “I’m not an animal!”
“Spike this is your human home and you went all state of Catatonia! You were here while you were human!” she exploded. “We don’t know what happened here or what kind of craziness you got up to as some sort of Vampire initiation whatever! Angel killed his whole family when—”
“STOP COMPARING ME TO HIM!”
Spike moved so fast Buffy would be worried if she still had to consider him a mortal enemy. His face was inches from hers and he had slammed both fists into the wood paneling on either side of her head so hard that it cracked. Buffy didn’t have time enough to flinch.
“Unless you are so addled you are just not listening to me! Sort of coming down on your side!”
“You act all high and mighty and you talk a big talk but you are just fine when I’m protecting you!” Spike snapped back viciously. “And takin’ care of you! But you’re still prepared after all we’ve been through to believe that I’ll bloody slip and eat every person in sight! Even my soddin’ kid!”
“Wesley—”
“Fuck you, Slayer! I didn’t save Wesley from that place. Wesley has known me for days! We’ve had a drink or two, but he’s not--” He snarled. “I’m talking about you! You are the biggest Bitch I’ve ever met and I spent a century with Dru! I dragged us out of hell, Buffy! I am the father of that baby in your belly and you still—and you still—” He pushed off the wall and grabbed what was probably a priceless knickknack and threw it at the wall. It smashed and Buffy did flinch. “Get out, slayer! Just fucking go!”
She very nearly did. She had not wanted to come here in the first place. She knew it was going to bring up all sorts of things. Her life had been on adrenaline mode for weeks. And now they were stopping and suddenly things were coming up. Small issues that were easy to push away when Genesis was on their heels, now they were all coming to head. Some smaller than others: like taking for granted that she and Spike were not mortal enemies but also slightly larger issues like what they were to each other now.
“No.”
He looked so livid that words had utterly failed him. Buffy steeled herself and took a step forward.
“I knew you weren’t going to go on a rampage.” Buffy said firmly. “You didn’t let me finish!” She softened realizing that fighting fire with fire was not going to be a good tactic. “I want to help you.”
“You don’t get to choose, slayer, you don’t get to—” He growled and she wished he had continued shouting. Spike shouting was something she was accustomed to. “You always do this. You prance around like you hung the moon because you save the world. LIke the fact that you believe in me should be enough! That doesn’t move me, slayer. You aren’t in Sunnyhell anymore. I don’t follow the leader. You can’t do anything for me.”
Buffy opened her mouth but as soon as she did a small ornamental stool crashed into the wall six inches from her left ear.
“Don’t you even start or else I’ll rip out your spine the second that sprog wails it’s first. And then I’m going to beat you over your naïve little head!”
“Talk like that is so not helping your case, buddy.” She said crossing her arms and trying to keep her voice level. He was angrier than she had ever seen him. “you are not falling off the deep end but you’re starting to doggy paddle over because you let that minion go and the survival guy-the Spike I know would never let a loose end like that—”
“You don’t know who he is!”
“Well, then get started explaining, Bleach-boy, because I’m what you’ve got.” She said feeling her resolve face slide into place; it occurred to her suddenly that Spike was angry, enraged even, but not at her. The thought felt like solid ground under foot after drowning. This was finally something she could use. “I’m sorry that all you heard was that we were worried about what you might do but we are worried about you too. I want to help you, you idiot! I want to help!”
“You don’t get to want!”
“Yes! Yes, I do!” Buffy said finally snapping. “I am what you’ve got. You did drag us out of hell, you have been taking care of us since, let me do this! I owe you this! Tell me about Who he was Spike, tell me why you’re being all brood boy!”
For some reason this seemed to set him off even more. He went ballistic. He was grabbing flinging everything he could get his hands on, he overturned couches and ottomans. He put his fist through the wall and then snarled in full vamp face and pulled it out.
She had a feeling Spike’s anger was not retaliatory, but something roiling under the surface that he was finally allowed to release which was why he was systematically destroying the room, pulling up artfully curved chair legs and ripping up rugs and throwing them around.
Buffy finally marched over and backhanded him as hard as she could. He crumpled.
“I am the slayer, Spike, and you need me right now so please, tell me what’s wrong!”
He muttered something incoherent.
“Spike?”
“It’s all the same. They didn’t—” he stammered. She expected him to revert back to the Giles accent but his voice was low and gruff. "They didn’t move anything at all! It’s all the bloody same.”
The last word came out as almost a sob.
“Spike?”
“Get out slayer!” he roared. “Just leave me the fuck alone, you meddlin’ bitch!”
She ignored him and approached carefully. When he didn’t move she got down on the floor next to him. He knew she was there, but he said nothing. They sat for a long moment.
She knew he had to speak first. She remembered, suddenly, everything Spike had done for her when they had first settled in the little oily smelling flat after fleeing from Newcastle. She had been practically catatonic and he had forced her kicking and screaming back into real life. It was her turn now, to be the one to bring him back.
“Don’t, slayer.” He said. His voice was quiet again but this time it was pleading not sinister. “Don’t ask me unless you’re ready for the whole story.”
He looked anguished. And she really didn’t want to know. But Raj was right, he probably needed to talk about it and she, Buffy had to hear it no matter how hard it was going to be.
He was studying her now, looking at her carefully. She met his gaze and realized for the first time really that she did want to know what was doing this to him.
“Please let me help.”
Spike paused.
“Right.” He said dangerously. “Slayer to the rescue.”
“Exactly. Just without the dark miserable sarcasm.”
To her infinite surprise Spike chucked.
“Bloody buggerin’ hell!” he growled but this time he sounded more frustrated than enraged. He shoved a hand through his hard which had become a mop of golden brown curls. He always wore his hair severe and slicked back. “I’m broodin’ aren’t I? No better’n bloody peaches!”
Buffy had to physically stop herself from suggesting something along the lines of Spike killing his whole family just like Angel. She knew she had to let him talk.
“He didn’t change anything.” He said quietly. His eyes still focused on the carpet. “A hundred and twenty years and it looks just like the day I left.”
“That minion?”
“Morton Bromley was my family’s butler.”
Buffy arched an eyebrow, it was all she could do not keep herself from grabbing the front of his shirt to shake the information out of him. She knew Spike had been wealthy, the house was gorgeous and was probably worth a lot of money but the thought of servants and butlers was still on the weird side.
She waited for him to continue. And waited. Spike had frozen.
Finally he did speak, it was a low rasp.
“I can’t.” he said. “I can’t”
She tried not to rush him in her impatience. She wanted to shake him. She wanted to make him tell her. She had to know. She needed to know. She could feel her sudden desperation bubble to the surface. She was about to press him, force him to say it.
But he spoke again, she couldn’t see his eyes but the pain was palpable in his voice.
“I can’t make you understand what it was like. It was just us two. She took care of me. I was always her first priority. She had lost everything and I—she was dying.” He stood up unable to stay in one spot, burning with a nervous energy. He paced back and forth, the action actually calmed Buffy. This was the Spike she was accustomed to. “She was dying so slowly, so painfully. There was nothing to be done for her.” He paused, he was staring at a little basket that contained odd little wooden cylinders. It was a sewing kit, Buffy realized, a sewing kit where all the thread and fabric had rotted away. It had sat there for a century last used probably by the ‘she’ he was talking about, his mother. She had thought for a second it was the baby sister Alex was named for, but somehow instinctively she knew it was his mother he was talking about. “There was nothing I could do. Until there was.”
The silence after his proclamation felt like a smothered scream, loud and palpable. Spike was avoiding her eyes and Buffy thought she must be missing something.
“There was wha...” she trailed off as she met Spike’s eyes, bright again and burning with intensity. And she realized what a fledgeling Spike had done to save his mother.
Again before she could even properly form the thought in her mind he had moved. It was so fast she didn’t see it start. He had pressed her against the wall his hands on either side of her head, his face so close to hers it should be uncomfortable, but it wasn’t.
She couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Look at me.”
She really, really didn’t want to but there was something commanding in his voice. The flash of Master Vampire he showed so rarely.
“You asked me to tell you. You wanted to know me.” He bit out. “I’m not Angelus. I’m not going to pretend that was someone else. I wasn’t starving and desperate. I turned my mum. I killed her.”
He wanted a response, she realized, Spike could usually read her like an open book but she didn’t know what she was feeling so he couldn’t read her, and this was what was making him crazy. She realized that Spike had never, not in a hundred and twenty years told anyone about this.
She waited to be disgusted. She waited for repulsion or fear to bubble up inside her. But only one thing occurred to her. All she could think about was a doctor’s visit a million years ago and the brave look on her mother’s face. Something clicked. She remembered what it was like begging Giles for a spell, a miracle, a curse anything to save her mom and she remembered a murderous Spike reading that misery on her face, dropping the gun, and patting her on the back.
Her revelation cost her He had pushed of the wall and started ripping apart the room again. But Buffy crossed the room determinedly and hugged him so awkwardly she may as well have been trying to tackle him because they over balanced and landed in a heap on the floor.
“Slayer what the bleedin’—”
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t think she had to and then his forehead dropped onto her shoulder and she knew she’s been right.
*****
In his un-life Spike had experienced many painful things, he had learned torture at the hands of Angelus and that fucker was a very hands on teacher. Spike had been burned and impaled, beaten and starved, but nothing he had ever felt had been as painful as seeing his mother’s sitting room looking exactly as she had left it, as if she had merely walked out of it about to return.
She would probably faint seeing her shy, sensitive William wrapped in the arms of a woman.
He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, he had not wanted to tell Buffy. He had not wanted to say anything at all. He had thought he could come back, and it would somehow have all gone away. Half of him was surprised he even considered it, but there was a fierce protective instinct growing inside him, and this was the safest place he knew. The trump card he could only play once, the one place in the world no one would track him because he had been keeping in quiet since before all the records Raj and Genesis could ever hack. Everything was hard copy, everything was ready. He just had to be sure that he wanted to pull the trigger. He thought it would be difficult to decide, but all it took was the pitter patter of an unborn heart beat and a pair of questioning, teen-aged eyes that were identical to his. They were his family, the choice was the easiest he had ever made. At least that was in Bohemia. Now, standing in his mother’s favorite spot facing everything he had done was another story all together.
He knew he couldn’t say anything. He knew she would turn away from him in a second, because she was looking for a reason that stupid chit. Looking for a reason to brand him evil and run away. But he couldn’t help himself, holding his tongue was not his strong suit and she had basically begged to know what was wrong. And he had thought he ruined it. This thing with Buffy, whatever it was, it was fragile It had to be dealt with delicately, like creating a sculpture of glass. He had nearly snapped when he saw her eyes widen, the beginnings of disgust on her face. He didn’t even care about all the things he was building with her. Suddenly, he didn’t even think of them. He knew she would turn away from him. And he was so angry with her, so frustrated that he had thought for even a second he could tell her, so angry that she had made him forget, that she had made him trust her and ruin everything.
And then he was drowning in Buffy-scent, he was not particular on the hows and the whys.
He had expected her to her to bolt after he had confessed this, his most wretched crime. But she didn’t and she could feel her arms like steel bands around his middle. He felt himself sag, his body at this point fully autonomous from everything his mind was telling it to do. He felt the tears leak from his eyes, and he didn’t really know how he got there. He didn’t understand what was happening.
He realized he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Buffy to move from the carrot to the stick. But she didn’t. When the tears finally stopped and Spike righted himself. It felt like days had passed.
“Is-“ Buffy’s voice was hesitant—understandably. “Is she still out there somewhere did you-uh did you want to go and—find her?”
Spike let himself lean against the wall. His mouth was dry and he felt someone else say that she was gone with his voice as if he was not the one speaking.
Buffy took her place next to him.
He looked at her with so much anguish that she stopped short and looked so weepy he was sure he would be the one comfort in her in a moment.
“She came back different.” His voice was tight and so rigidly controlled it sounded like he could shatter at any moment. “I couldn’t understand it because I came back relatively unchanged. She—” His voice broke. “and she came onto me like I was not her son. Like—She was not my mum. She was something else, something—and I dusted her.”
The tears started again.
“She was a good woman, my mum. And I ruined her.”
“You didn’t ruin her, Spike.” Buffy said in a small voice.
“Slayer—”
“You didn’t ruin her.” She said slowly but firmly. Spike let her comfort him. “Turning her may not have been the best idea but—no” He just looked at her incredulously and she scrambled for words. Thankfully, she was still holding him in place. “I’m saying this wrong. My mom, I don’t know if I told you this or if you just kinda knew, but she has a something in her head. They said it was a shadow and then they said it’s cancer and she was dying.” She paused. “and if I had the option to turn her into a slayer to maybe save her; I would maybe do it. I might have done it before—I tore apart the magic box looking for a spell to make it better.”
He stopped struggling. It was almost more than he could have hoped for, was she trying to absolve him? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know if he wanted to be absolved. It felt wrong somehow, as if he should never be so lucky as to have someone tell him it was okay. He had never told anyone one that in a hundred years, he had never even spoken to Dru about it who proceeded as if it had never happened.
Somewhere far away a part of him registered that she was still talking, she was telling him about her mum too but he was too elated, too happy that she was talking to him and not dusting him that he didn’t even register what she was saying. Many things were occurring to Spike at once, first off Buffy knew the worst of him now, in his hundred odd years in the world this was the deed he had always thought was the most unforgivable and she had not turned away. For the very first time since they were at Genesis he was sure, utterly sure she was worried for him. She had come for him. He had been working towards this for months, years really. And here was the first real tangible show on her part.
“Her gallery—and who even knows what that would have been like—”
Spike had known how he felt about her since that night and that stupid dream. He couldn’t deny the attraction, he even made Harmony play along which was less satisfying than he had thought it would be. But he had held his tongue, sure that she would never feel for him anything like that. Sure she was too high on her white horse to ever understand. Spike knew people, he knew Buffy but all that had changed the second he took her hand in that place. And this, her sitting here holding him while he told her this, clinched it for him.
“—and they said glioma. Whatever that means. Like there was something we could have done before but that’s just bull because all she had was a head ache. You had a death sentence and—Spike?”
“Buffy, I—I’d turn your mum if it came down to it.”
It was out of his mouth before he fully realized it.
Fuck. Goddam it. He knew he was going to say something to bollocks it all up. All this shining hope and then he had to go and say that and all the well-meaning drained from Buffy’s face and she looked shocked.
Fuck.
He was suddenly petrified he would get slapped and stalked out of the room, but, miraculously she burst out laughing. He stared at her. “I –you—I can’t believe—I mean—I” She erupted into giggles. “That was the worst thing you could suggest.” She said managing to force the words through her mirth. “and your face when you realized what you said was just—was just—”
“Har, har, I’m so glad you find me amusing.” Spike said he made to get up but Buffy pulled him right back down next to her.
“I was so worried I’d say something—like that—and—and” She finally stopped laughing. “and I managed not to fuck up too badly. I mean the room looks a couple of the more smashie-smash demons were playing around with the forces of darkness—and I should know.”
Spike felt himself starting chuckle as well. Relieved that his stupid mouth hadn’t gotten him in trouble as was its wont.
There were a few more stray giggles but Spike wasn’t paying attention to them. He was staring at her, realizing how close they were. He could see the gold flecks in her green eyes and smell the sweet vanilla that seemed to cling to her, lingering just under any demon blood or cheap floral chemical scent of soviet-era Czech soap.
“Thought I was about done with this place. Always had the back up though, guess I’m glad of it now.”
She met his eyes and quieted also. The last few chuckles trailed off.
“Spike, I--”
This wasn’t the time he knew it wasn’t the right time yet. He knew he shouldn’t lean forward, he knew he was pushing her, pushing them both neither of them had been too comfortable with the touching. And he was only just able to keep himself back.
Which was why it was so surprising when it was she who closed the distance between them.
*****
She knew Spike was a good kisser. As much as she said she had wanted to repress their short lived engagement she remembered every stolen, feverish moment he was kissing her. She had wanted to forget it so badly because it affected her so deeply that it was hard to patch things up with Riley afterwards. Spike had a hundred years of practice, of course he knew how to make all her bones melt. This was nothing like that. He was still and unyielding and very quickly pushed her away.
She would probably mortified if she was sure this was actually happening. She stared, unable to look away from him. This was Spike as she had never seen him before. His eyes were so dark they were almost black and his chest was heaving with unnecessary breath.
Holy crap what did she just do? She wasn’t completely sure. There had been something building between her and Spike, building since those first spellbound kisses last year, electricity that had been crackling and she had just acted on it. Sure that this was the moment to—He wasn’t kissing her he was just looking at her, wide eyed and looking younger than she had ever seen him.
She felt heat flood her cheeks.
“Oh God, I’m sorry I don’t know what just came over me.”
“Buffy—”
She was up and mortified and muttering stupid things about going back up to the bed that was waiting for her when he did that thing where he’s so much faster than she’s used to and he was right in front of her holding her by the shoulders. His eyes were switching back and forth between blue and gold.
“Buffy, please,”
“No, I get it. It was the heat of the moment and I thought—I don’t now. Just forget about it. I’ve been up for 48 hours, Spike, seriously. It didn’t mean anything.”
She felt the change immediately. The silence between them had become in the last few minutes almost comfortable—not fraught with death shroud-y vibes, and in an instant it felt like the air around them turned into a physical presence. She didn’t want to look at him. She really didn’t want to look at him, but she couldn’t help it. There was no sign of the stormy blue.
She knew instinctively she had said something very, very wrong.
He let go of her like she was doused in Holy Water.
All this happened in a split second. Spike was gone, and Buffy who was just an instant before wishing with all of her being that she could take that stupid kiss back suddenly wanted to do it again. She wanted tell him it did mean something even though she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.
“Spike,”
“No, you were right we’ve been up for days we should go upstairs. Rest your pretty little head.”
“I shouldn’t have said that, Spike.”
God, what a Roller Coaster. Now she was reaching for him trying to make him stop.
“I’m sorry. I was stupid because—”
Her whirled around, human visage replaced by the ridges and of his vampiric one, as if forcing her to face everything. This was who he was. And everything she was feeling, it was happening with a vampire.
“Slayer, you have to know. And now is not the time to fuck with me. You asked me why I keep doing things for you. You know why. ” He looked furious. “Don’t play stupid, Buffy, not with me.”
She couldn’t make herself speak. His glare was gold and she had never in her life felt so naked. She thought it would make her squirm but she couldn’t move, she couldn’t even force herself to breathe.
He pushed her into the wall so hard she felt the paneling crack behind her. Rock and the hard place very suddenly made a world of sense to Buffy. Spike was smaller than any of her other boyfriends, but carved out of stone apparently, and he looked every inch the predator he was.
She knew she wanted him, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about actually having him. Spike had kept her safe, taken care of her but this Spike was worlds away from that one, or at least it felt like that, this was Vampire-Spike. He was making her look at him like this and part of her wanted him to have his wicked way with her. She realized belatedly that her feet her off the floor and somehow Spike’s thigh had found its way between her legs. She wanted him to kiss her so badly she thought she was going to take matters into her own hands--and to hell with what happened last time. But he held her in place with his eyes.
There was a part of her that was telling her to slow down. That she was still traumatized and she needed to get that sorted. But that part of her was getting hard to listen to because every tingle at the back of her neck was going off at once and Buffy felt like she was going to explode.
“You know there’s something here. Something between us.” His voice was a low, tight whisper. “And I want you, baby.”
And she wanted him. God, shouldn’t she be more hesitant? Shouldn’t she want him to back off? After everything that had happened shouldn’t she want some time to process and get it together? Not even a little.
Every bit of her wanted to be pressed against him. Her hands which were pinned uselessly at her sides, were clutching the abused panel as hard as she could make them to keep her from touching him.
God, how long had this been building? She had no idea where this sudden attack of lust was coming from. All she knew was that if she took her hands off the panneling, they would be in Spike's hair, clutching him against her.
He rolled his hips, she felt the evidence of what was between them and her mind went blank. She felt her eyes flutter closed. Spike smelled like cigarettes and leather and somewhere under all that, something tart and sweet. She felt his lips very close to her ear.
“And I know you want me. I can smell it, pet.”
“Spike—” Her voice was three octaves higher than it usually was.
“Buffy.” His voice was silky suddenly. It came from him like a purr from his chest. “Patience, pet”
She heard herself whimper as if it was coming from someone else.
“It meant something.” She breathed. “I’m—I don’t know why I—j”
Spike’s smile was the sweetest she had ever seen, there was no sneer behind it, no smirk. It was so incongruous with everything his body was doing, with everything he had made her feel in the last two minutes.
“I’m sorry I said that.” She stammered.
His forehead was resting on her head.
“I know, love.”
“Spike, what are you—”
“You need to ask me, Buffy. I want you, baby, I want you so badly but I can’t. Not unless--”
And something deep inside Buffy had clicked. Genesis had taken her body and used it the way they wanted. She wanted the control back. She wanted her body to do what she wanted it to do; and right now she wanted to feel like she did that day last year when Spike was kissing her and the whole universe melted away.
Her hands were in his hair before she could make them stop.
*****
Spike had been planning his seduction for ages. It had been running around in his mind since he had that dream of her fighting with him’ till they were shagging on the crypt floor. He had thought he would have to be meticulous. He would have to treat her like she was made of glass, but he was forgetting just who he was dealing with. He had never been good at following plans anyway and now, after a morning of bluster and blundering they were snogging in his living room.
Her hands were in his hair and her tongue was driving him wild. He was drunk on her. He was absolutely lost in the sensation of her lips and her body pressed against his and he wanted to pull her closer.
He had thought after everything they had been through this would take longer, they would both be hesitant and tentative and end up with a long evening on a bed somewhere taking the time to be comfortable, to rediscover how much pleasure their bodies could yield. But his slayer smashed right through that plan sure as she was riding his thigh for her all she was worth, grinding her hot little self against him and holding him to her as if anything could make him leave.
He was beyond even trying to gain control of the situation. She was too much for him to handle, she was—he was a loss for words. But he finally managed to wrench his lips from hers to taste the column of her throat, he was unsurprised when her hands held him in place rather than pushed him away.
“Spike,” she moaned and the sound of her saying his name like that very nearly made cut this tryst short.
Her legs were around his waist and his hands were on her breasts and Spike lost himself to the sensation. There was no technique, no use of everything he had learned from every lover he had had before. His mind was too over-loaded with Buffy: her taste in his mouth, her body under his fingertips and hoarse, desperate voice saying over and over again that she meant it and she wanted him and never ever stop. He didn’t know how he thought he was ever going to wait, to be patient, or to use finesse.
This wasn’t like what he had thought, this was brutal and primal and he was not sure how she had managed it but her hands under his clothes now and he had to focus on not loosing it. He needed better leverage, he needed to hold more of her, to feel more of her skin. She was still wrapped around him and he wanted to wrap his arms around her he wanted to hold her and fuck her and feel her come apart on his arms. He wasn’t sure how he managed that but he felt the plaster in the wall yield and he pulled her closer.
“Spike, please,”
“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured into her hair.
He was frantic, clothing was pushed aside or shredded in an effort to get to her and the wall was not the most conducive place to get everything he wanted. And he was pushing off and stumbling across the room to the couch as her lips and blunt teeth were nipping at his neck, leaving marks that he was sure would be the in the morning.
They collapsed into the couch. Her hands were squeezing him firmly and Spike couldn’t make himself pull them away no matter how close he got. He focused instead on her perfect breasts that moving her had allowed him to attend to. He was licking and nibbling them into perfect little points and Buffy’s hands flew from his cock to his head keeping him in place.
She was being so loud now that he was sure they were putting on a show, but he didn't care and--it seemed--neither did she.
“Now, Spike!”
Bossy Buffy was back. Spike smirked as he reached down to check.
“So wet for me, love.”
“Yes!”
Relieved she could need no preparation he slid inside her, no preamble or warning and She screamed into his shoulder.
He was lost in sensation, he couldn’t keep words straight in his head. All he could think about was her and what she was making him feel and her voice whispering incoherent encouragement in his ear and her hips moving in time with his.
He felt, rather than heard the couch give way underneath him, the angle they fell pushed him further inside her. She cried out and then she was coming so powerfully that he could barely keep himself together. She instinctively clamped down on his neck to in an effort to keep her scream stifled and managed hit just a little of his turning bite mark, He felt his eyes roll up in his head and he came so hard he couldn’t even form a scream of fulfillment. He collapsed boneless on top of her.
He could have laid there for all eternity. She stirred after a few moments and he opened one blue eye to see her settle herself more comfortably on the ruined couch and pulled something that felt like his duster over the two of them. Her hands were playing softly with his hair as he drifted off to sleep.
***
Author's note:
because usually I wouldn't let them get anywhere near this quickly but these two would not be kept apart. Every time I tried it felt forced and strange so I had to go with their wishes and now we have some after to play with. The next few should be up soon!
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hi, Guys, so I know this one was a long time coming but this a very fun very juicy chapter with lots of angst and spuffy fun! Thanks for waiting and I promise the next one will be out way sooner!
Chapter End Notes:
See? Spuffy fun? Please tell me what you think because usually I wouldn't let them get anywhere near this quickly but these two would not be kept apart. Every time I tried it felt forced and strange so I had to go with their wishes and now we have some after to play with. The next few should be up soon!