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Author's Chapter Notes:
Previously: Buffy fumbled her way through a phone call with non-witchy Willow, and things between Buffy and Spike got steamy (because Buffy was in the shower... get it? Sorry, I need to get my jollies somewhere.).

Beta'd by the lovely All4Spike.
Chapter 15

The universe was conspiring against him. There was no way his balls could get any bluer with the way she kept brushing up against him, nimble hands darting out to touch his lower back as she reached over to grab a mug from the counter, or her feet landing in his lap and kneading his inner thighs without her eyes ever leaving the telly.

“This is torture,” he muttered and caught her wrist when she delved inside the already too tight pocket of his jeans. “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you? Want to drive me around the bend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, pulling the lighter out after some unnecessary frisking that had him gritting his teeth. “I just want to light some candles. For the ambiance.”

“Think we’ve established that you and fire are—”

“Un-mixy?” she asked, turning the lighter over in her hand. “I guess.”

He put his hand out, palm up.

She shook her head, tossed, “I think I’ll keep it for now anyway,” over her shoulder as she disappeared up the ladder.

“You don’t even smoke!” Bloody women. He’d never understand them. And now he wouldn’t only be horny, but also nicotine-deprived.

*******

It’s not that she was deliberately making him suffer… except for the part where she totally was. So what if she wanted him? If she sometimes imagined pushing him on the bed, straddling him and licking every inch of his bare skin? She’d always been too annoyed with him to find him attractive, but it had changed now. He’d crept up on her and burrowed under her skin. He was… fun. Teasing him was fun, made her feel as if she was the kind of woman who could drive a man like him crazy.

And yet, getting all up close and personal with anyone was kind of a big deal for her. It felt safer to teeter on the precipice than to take the leap and see if the fall would crush her bones to dust. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Haven’t you already jumped?

Maybe. But I’m not letting myself fall.

She tucked the lighter into the pouch on the front of her hoodie and collapsed on the bed with a sigh. If she was making the biggest mistake of her life, it was way too late to backtrack now.

*******

Stealing his lighter had turned into some kind of bizarre game. She’d take it from him, maybe cop a feel or two in the process and wait until he got frustrated enough to demand it back from her.

As she was out on the porch getting some fresh air, she wondered why she was making him play chase when she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be caught.

“You’re like a magpie, you know. Attracted to shiny objects.”

She startled, shouldering off the wall. “God, wear a bell next time. You made me all jumpy.”

“Vampire stealth,” he offered, walking slowly towards her until his booted toes bumped into hers. “I’ll take rain check on the bell, but only if it comes with a nice leather collar.” He grinned, his tongue tucked behind his front teeth in a lascivious manner she definitely shouldn’t find attractive.

“Kinky much?”

“Much,” he agreed, brushing Emma’s scarf Buffy had borrowed aside, undoing the buttons of her coat one by one. When she looked at him questioningly, he added, “Someone’s got my lighter and I need a fag.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” He smirked, stroking down her sides under the coat, wandering beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt. It didn’t really feel like searching as much as just touching. “What would the Watcher say if he knew what a little thief you are?”

“I don’t think he’d care about me stealing your stuff.”

“Right,” he said stiffly. She had a feeling she’d screwed up somehow, strummed on a raw nerve. “’Course he wouldn’t.”

“Spike…”

He patted the back pockets of her jeans and pulled the lighter out, but she couldn’t help but notice that something inside him had shuttered down.

“What did I say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, retrieving the cigarette from behind his ear and sticking it between his taut lips.

“It’s not like I’m really stealing it, you know. I just…” How could she explain it when she didn’t even get it herself? She couldn’t say I like having something that’s yours, because the idea of it being true scared her more than it had to face her mother after she’d wrecked the car. Needless to say, it scared her a lot.

“It’s fine, Slayer. No need to make a big issue out of nothing, yeah?” They were on the same page, after all. It wasn’t Buffy’s fault he’d got touchy when she’d implied he didn’t matter. He wasn’t supposed to care. It was… it was all the bloody estrogen floating around the house that had turned him into a whiny git, that was all. “Here. Want some?” He offered the cig as a peace offering.

She scrunched up her nose. “No, thanks. I just want… tell me what I said wrong so I can fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix. Don’t mind me. Think I’m just a bit tired of being stuck here for so long and not being able to do a thing about it.”

“Oh.” She kicked at the spot of snow that had drifted on the porch, hands jammed into her pockets. “Is it so bad here? With me?”

He felt himself soften, hated her for it. “You know that’s not what I… that’s not why.”

“I don’t, though. I don’t know what we’re doing, or why, and I don’t know why it’s so easy to just… be. It shouldn’t be.”

He lit the cigarette, put the lighter away. “Maybe it’s because I don’t expect anything from you. You’re you and I’m me. We don’t need to know the whats and the whys, I reckon. Just do what feels good.”

“Because that always works out so well,” she said dryly. “Every time I do, something comes along to screw it all up. Someone I love ends up getting hurt.”

His lips pursed around the cigarette’s filter, dragging the smoke in, exhaling slowly. “Bad things happen all the time. You can’t do anything but try to make the most of your life in the meantime.”

“It’s not that simple.” Her shoulders drew up. He wasn’t sure if she was cold or defensive. “I hate you for making me feel as if it is.”

He took another drag, grateful he had something to do with his hands. He’d got into the habit of touching her too much already. “I thought you didn’t mind. Said so yourself. It’s a different world here and the same rules don’t apply. So what if we like it? Like just being… us. Together. Once we’re back…” He’d… what? Erase all those moments from his memory as if they’d never happened? Forget the way she tasted and laughed and rolled her eyes when he said something stupid? Bloody hell. Always knew she’d be the end of him. Just didn’t expect it to be this way.

“You really think it’s that easy?” she asked. “That once we’re back, it’ll be just like ‘poof, none of this ever happened’?”

He tapped the end of the cigarette against the railing, watched the ash float down to the snow below. “Will be for you. You’ve got your mates and your mum and your stodgy watcher and… that all American boy toy of yours. Once you get back into the swing of things, all this will feel like a bloody nightmare. The longer we’re back, the more you’ll convince yourself it didn’t really happen.”

“That’s not true.” She frowned. “Don’t presume to know how I feel. I don’t… I’m not even in love with him.”

“Hope you’re not talking about Rupert.”

“Ugh. You’re insufferable. You know I was talking about Riley.” She looked away as he finished his cigarette, lit a new one. “I love him. I do. Just not the way he wants me to. I can see that now, and I feel as if I’ve been using him to be normal. It’s not fair to him.”

“Bugger what’s fair to him.”

She glared.

He put his hands up. “Hey. Don’t have to like him. In fact, you’re too good for the likes of him. He can never give you what you really need.”

“And what’s that?”

Me. “Someone who will let you be who you are without making you feel as if you need to hold back, to change into someone you’re not. You’re not normal. Don’t see why you’d want to be anyway.”

She was quiet and even though she wasn’t looking at him, he knew she was listening.

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you miss being weak and helpless.”

She met his eyes, not saying a word.

“That’s what I thought. At one point you’re going to have to accept that kids and a white picket fence aren’t in the cards for you. Not like for your counterpart. But even if they were, that overgrown sod still wouldn’t be right for you.”

She lifted her chin. “Like you are?”

“Never said that. Hell, a slayer and a vampire… one without a soul? That’s as wrong as it gets,” he said with a shrug, blowing out a stream of smoke. “But the two of us, we’ve never really followed the rules, have we? We make our own. It’s why we fit together, I suppose. We have an understanding that you and him don’t have. I don’t care that you’re stronger than me. Don’t care if you’re in a pissy mood or don’t feel like putting on a brave face. And I like your Slayer side. Like all your sides, because they’re all you.” He smirked then, hoping it didn’t come off as a grimace, hoping she hadn’t caught on the way he’d let himself slip. “I like my women feisty and on top.”

Buffy snorted, leaning against the railing. “Not everything you said was true, you know.”

“Meaning?”

She shifted, looking away. “I don’t think I could forget if I tried. It’s changed. We have. I can’t just go back to the way things were before.”

That’s what she thought, and for a moment the words caught on his heartstrings so hard his chest ached. But she was only thinking in the now, in the place where there was nobody to tell her bloody wrong this was, how she shouldn’t, how soulless things like him weren’t worthy enough to lick her heels. Oh, she’d try. To talk to him the way she did here, to tease and use banter instead of her fists. But eventually they’d fall back into their old patterns and he’d be left alone on the sidelines like the chipped, sort-of-harmless former enemy that he was. Nothing more.

“Let’s not think of the future right now, yeah? We’ll deal with it when the time comes. And if we stay the same. If we still care a little,” if you still do, “less broken noses for me, eh?”

She nodded. “Deal.”

She could tell he didn’t believe her, but what did he know? Stupid, stubborn vampire. Getting back home didn’t mean she’d forget the way he’d helped her and made her feel all right when he could have torn her down. The way he could smile so big and so genuinely that it made her smile too. It’s not love. But it’s something. And I can’t just turn my heart off.

They stayed silent for a while, lost inside their heads, her cheeks stinging from the cold night air, the snow catching hues of blue. And even though it was freezing, she liked it. It was nice to be here with him. Comfortable.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

She remembered all the times she wanted to tell him what she’d seen in her dreams, how it had made her feel, but had chickened out. If he wouldn’t believe that she would treat him the same in Sunnydale, she could at least be honest. “I had these dreams—”

“Is this is the time you tell me you always wanted to join the circus and be the half naked snake lady?” He grinned around his cigarette and she wondered why she’d felt the compulsion to tell him anything at all. All he deserved was to get shoved into the banks of snow lumped beneath the porch.

“I’m trying to tell you something, poophead. This is serious.”

“I’m very serious about picturing you in a tiny bikini right now.”

She punched his shoulder, made him lose his grip on the cigarette, which landed by his feet with a hiss and a spark of cherry red.

“Now look what you’ve done. I had to pay for these. Well, not with my mon—”

“Spike!”

He rolled his eyes.

“You know what? Forget it. I’m not telling you anything.” She spun around. Her hand was already on the doorknob when he caught her elbow and coaxed her back.

“I’m sorry for being a wanker.” He pulled her close, eyes all earnest and stupidly blue. “Was just trying to be funny and failed. Tell me all about your dream. ‘M all ears now.”

“You smell like an ashtray.”

He hesitated about an inch away from her face but kissed her in the end, quickly but deeply, making her head spin. “Sorry,” he said again with a smile, and her initial reaction wasn’t to punch him as it would have been over a week ago. They really had changed. She had.

“I’m still annoyed.”

He leaned in, pecked her on the lips four times in a row until she was biting back a smile. “You taste like an ashtray too.”

Spike pouted, and she had a suspicion he’d learned it from Emma.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “I guess I’ll tell you.”

He was wise enough not to unleash the snark again.

“You know the dreams I’ve had?”

“The one where a washing machine chases you around the cabin?” He tilted his head to the side, his brows furrowed.

“No, the Slayer ones. With Willow doing the smelly spell stuff?”

“Ah. The visions.”

“Yup. Just call me Cassandra.”

Spike leaned back against the wall of the cabin and she found herself by his side before her brain could process she’d moved at all. But then Spike said, “Come here,” and pulled her into his arms, her back flush against his front.

“Uhh…”

“’S chilly out here. You’re warm. The end. Don’t overthink it.”

“So that’s what I am now? A human electric blanket?” She pulled his arm around her waist even tighter. Just to keep the cold away. Not overthinking this, see?

“Exactly. Now, go on.”

“Okay. Going on, right now.” She breathed in, tried to put her thoughts in a coherent order and away from Spike’s thumb rubbing back and forth over her knuckles. “You know how I told you the other us… that they’re in our place in Sunnydale?”

Spike hummed in agreement.

“I kind of saw them… all with the togetherness and smoochies. And stuff. All close and personal.”

“Smoochies,” Spike echoed teasingly, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“You bet I am.” He kissed the spot behind her ear. When she shivered, it wasn’t from the cold. “Can’t help it when you’re mangling the mother tongue.”

“You’re too British. What do you know?” She pinched his knuckle. “What I wanted to say before I was rudely interrupted is that… I kind of may have seen them… the other us… doing the, umm… the groiny thing. And it was weird. Kind of pervy, but not, at the same time. They just, they looked good together. They fit.”

“Yeah?” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. “Do you think we fit as well?”

“Sometimes. I mean… I kind of like it when you do that thing.”

“What thing?” He teased.

“The kissing thing.” Did it get warmer, or was it just her?

“We’d make a hell of a team in battle as well, you know.” He spun her around, brushed his lips against hers.

“I can see that,” she admitted. The longer she spent with him, the more she saw how he could fill all the empty spaces. How he could make her laugh when she felt too stern or not talk when she needed silence.

“How about we continue this inside? Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, would we?” He bit his lip.

“But I like the chicken soup you make.”

“I can make it any time, not only when you’re feeling poorly.” He smiled, took her hand in his.

“This feels nice,” she said, looking at their joined hands. “I’m starting to like this whole ‘getting stuff off my chest’ thing.” Starting to like that she could, like knowing that he’d get it.

When she tugged on his hand and opened the front door, he said, “Wait.” She could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“What is it?”

He sucked in a breath and let it out, then put on a smile she didn’t quite believe. “Nothing. Just… that’s a cute scarf. The monkey heads especially are very quirky.”

“You’re a weirdo,” she said as they went in, but couldn’t help but think he’d meant to say something else entirely.

TBC


Chapter End Notes:
Plenty of dialogue in this one. Hope you enjoyed!



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