[Reviews - 145]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2087 times

- Text Size +




The wonderful sensation of lethargy, familiar in its presence, yet seemingly unable to wear out its welcome. It pulsed in pleasured shots through their bodies as Spike and Buffy fell upon the mattress like one big knot of limbs, in a room filled with new nostalgia and the smell of sex.

They dozed off like two forgetful cats in the shade. Spike woke before her sometime later. He inhaled and drew her aroma into his lungs, clean, light, sweetened by shampoo and a natural essence that reminded him indistinctly of white chocolate, decorated with his scent. Shining blonde hair had sprawled over his stomach, caressing the pale skin with its softness.

Spike breathed needlessly once again, and followed it up with a contented sigh. He stretched his legs, very carefully keeping the rest of his body motionless beneath her.

Exhausting each other, apparently, was their forte. No blood was drawn in the bathtub, but the tile was probably still wet with the evidence of their lack of care. He and Buffy forced themselves to be quiet for Darla's resting sake, despite the note mentioning earplugs, but silence merely invoked sharper rapaciousness. The strain bled through their muscles to spasm and twist until the floor was decorated with soapy water.

Spike smoothed Buffy's tresses, his fingers gently combing through damp gold. His stomach would be growling right now if it could. Hunger for Buffy far surpassed his hunger for blood, and he'd neglected physical nourishment for several hours. Daylight was nearly gone, night having crawled across the sky like a deep blue blanket as the sun set.

He could hear Darla pattering down below in the kitchen, doing what he didn't know. Spike also heard crickets beginning a familiar chorus outside, their early summer tune ringing in through the window. A warm breeze followed, dark curtains dancing as it flew in.

He loved this. Loved the peaceful comfort of Buffy's breathing landing on his stomach. Loved hearing her heartbeat echo reassuringly in his ears. He could live forever and never be more at peace than he was right now.

Spike had never tasted contentment, not before he met Buffy.

A fond little smirk spread across his lips. Once she accepted him into her life, that is. The fighting was fun, sure, but it didn't compare to everything they had now.

He knew they still had one thing left to take care of before they could rest their heads and hearts, and Buffy could truly settle. Talking to her sister, after all, meant too much to simply brush it under some rug that would eventually wither to threads and tangles anyway.

Buffy had already fibbed her way around actually telling Dawn everything, and she felt too bad about it to let those lies manifest into believable history. Spike also knew, from everything she'd told him, that Dawn would only be angrier with the more time that passed before Buffy gave her the real lowdown. It was a weighty batch of secrets his mate was keeping, and she yearned to relieve her shoulders, but it had to be done gently.

Spike wished for not the first time that he could take on the responsibility for Buffy, find a way to tell Dawn everything without leaving her with a sense of betrayal.

It wasn't likely. Besides, even if he had a plan that might garner a desired response, Spike understood that Buffy should be the one to talk to her sister.

The woman occupying his thoughts stirred in his lap, breath sighing hotly against his skin. Spike stifled a groan, and brushed her hair out of her face. She turned to look up at him. Her eyes crinkled fondly and his heart would have leapt if it could, then her smile merely grew from slight to wide, like a flower opening at sunrise.

And like the sun, she beamed at him, warm, with dusky glitter in her hazel eyes. "Good evening."

His brow flicked up. "Noticed the sun is setting, have you?"

"I hope you know you've completely ruined my sleep schedule."

"I try," he said.

She swatted his hip, smiling still. "What time is it?"

"Around seven thirty, eight."

"Is Darla up?" she asked.

Spike tilted his head. "Yeah, I can hear her downstairs," he said.

Two things arose, one emotion following the other before her face was a mask of uncertainty. There was an eagerness there, but none of it carried over into Buffy's voice when she said, "Good, I need to thank her for calling Dawn yesterday." Rising off the bed, she dropped the thin sheet from her hands. "I can't believe I haven't seen her for an entire day."

Spike watched her slip into that robe she favored. "We've been a little busy," he said.

The smirk was virtually touchable when he spoke in a husky voice like that. "We live in the same house," Buffy said, rolling her eyes.

"I wager she understands, pet."

"I know. I'm just anxious to see her."

He sent her a strange look. "Is there something bothering you?"

Buffy pulled her hair out from beneath the back of her robe, meeting his eyes and freezing in place. "Darla went out last night," she said, "because of us, and I just... want to make sure she's okay. You know?"

He frowned, blinking sapphire lit with confusion. "Not sure I follow."

"I want to make sure she had a nice time," Buffy added.

"She was with your friend, right? I'm sure they enjoyed themselves, got into all sorts of mischief."

She was silent at that, tightening the sash around her middle and looking down for the first time. Buffy nodded, without even glancing his way, and that's when Spike decided to stand. He approached quietly, confident in his nudity even when Buffy's focus locked onto the region below his belly button. She shook off a tremor when he drew closer.

He didn't touch her, though he wanted to, and denying himself the pleasure only heightened his craving. Instead, Spike stole the robe's sash from her fidgeting hands and rubbed its softness between thumb and pointer finger. He stared at Buffy's averted face until she looked him in the eye again. "Are you afraid for her?" he asked, catching onto something. "Did something happen?"

Her lips firmed into a tight line; inside, he felt her hesitance as powerfully as he felt her desire to speak. Buffy took a deep breath, and chose her words carefully. "Has it been hard to give up... to give up killing for you?" she asked him. Rather abruptly, too; it threw Spike for a loop. He gathered his wits quickly, though, and took a deep, needless breath of his own.

He thought about it, trying to figure out the best way to answer...

His mouth opened before his brain could weigh in. "Bloody hell, yes," he said.

She blinked at the admission, but offered no complaint or judgment. Rather, Spike could tell she'd expected it, and there was no excruciating disappointment glaring his way. Buffy nodded again, and the vampire found himself throwing out more before his brain could catch up. "It's been hard, love," he admitted. "But knowing that you... that I've got a reason to-..."

Buffy noted a significant shift in his eyes, something deep, and she was graced with that admiring look again. The one that always warmed her from head to toe, until her heart melted from the heat into a fast beating puddle.

"Knowing I've got you," he said, "and having the claim... It helps, love. It all helps. And I'd never dream of hurting you that way, putting you through something that would- I won't make you hate me. Christ knows I never imagined myself playing at being well-behaved, but I want to try. I want to be..." he glanced down, "good enough for you, Buffy. Not killing is hard for a vamp, but I'll gladly do it, so long as I have this."

Her stare swallowed him whole at the press of his hand, over her heart that beat in a staccato rhythm of exaltation.

Her gaze was something so pure, free of ulterior motive or hesitancy or immaturity. She made him feel... She made him feel alive with just a touch, made him feel worthy, even if Spike knew he wasn't.

She reached up and cupped his cheek. Damn, but he loved it when she did that, made tingles seep under his skin. He leaned into the touch, and then he felt Buffy's faith, her trust and belief, in him, and Spike had the thought that maybe... maybe he was worth something good.

Buffy didn't let go when she next spoke, and neither did he. "I think it's hard for Darla. She- We never really talked about her turning. I don't think it's a very comfortable subject." Her thumb brushed against his skin in gentle circles, as soft as her voice. "And truthfully, I don't know how to ask about it, or why she doesn't kill."

Spike squinted, clearing his mind enough to focus on what she said. "Personally, love, I think if she were to keep on killing, it'd be harder for the bird to control herself around humans. And that includes you."

Buffy's brows pinched together. "So... Wait. You think she doesn't kill because of me?"

He shrugged, either unaware or uncaring of her bewilderment. His fingers trailed down her breast, then over the covered area of her abdomen. "I wager she doesn't want you to be disappointed in her. So yeah, pet. It's what I can figure."

She dropped her hand, and Spike missed the contact immediately, but remained quiet as a breath rushed out from between her pouty lips. Mystification, and exasperation after that, dominated her flickering irises. "Why am I every vampire's moral compass?"

He chuckled. Buffy put her hands on her hips, flattered yet unsure of how to respond to what Spike's theory meant. "You're hard not to love, Buffy," was all he said.

Her frustration deflated like a popped balloon. Her shoulders relaxed and she glanced towards the door; longing pooled in her eyes. "Want to go downstairs?" she asked.

Spike pressed closer and laid a kiss on her forehead. "You go. I'll make myself decent and join you a minute."

She gave him a grateful smile, then pressed her lips ardently against his. Before he was able to deepen it, she sprung away like a butterfly catching the wind.

Spike smiled when he heard her light footsteps flying down the staircase a second later.

***

When Buffy entered the kitchen, the scent of something very light and sweet made her nostrils expand. Then, she found Darla, who was standing at the end of the island behind a white frosted cake.

A steaming mug was clasped in her feminine hands, and she sipped at it gingerly. There was a gleam in her eyes, a kind of feminine knowledge and brewing excitement for details. It took just one haughty brow raise for Buffy to start blushing like a china doll.

Furiously ignoring the warmth in her cheeks, she approached Darla and threw a hasty glance at the floor. "Thank you for calling Dawn," she said, recalling what she wanted to address, and further putting off the awaiting inquisition. "If you hadn't, it would have been bad."

Darla rose her left eyebrow in a dramatic arc again. "That's all you have to say for yourself?"

Buffy bit her lip, then stifled a laugh. The air was bubbling with curious energy, but you'd never know its source from looking at Darla. The vampire was cool, calm, and collected as ever; only someone who really knew her would be able to tell she was practically bursting at the seams with questions.

Buffy looked at the frosted rectangle on the countertop, diversion her temporary escape route. "You got a cake?"

"I ordered it from a bakery in town." Darla smiled very cheerily, and rotated said dessert so that Buffy could read the red lettering across the top.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Temporary, indeed. "'Just Married?!'"

That was it. Darla started to snicker, until long and loud currents of shameless laughter filled the kitchen.

Buffy pursed her lips, trying hard to keep her amusement locked quietly away. It was like the time when she had first kissed a boy in freshman year, and Darla bought her a congratulatory cupcake and gave it to her at lunch. "It's safe to assume that the cake is for me and Spike, right?" Buffy asked steadily. "Or did you and Faith get hitched last night?"

Between giggles, Darla managed, "Now, now, we didn't drink enough for that," she said. Then, "I hope Spike likes chocolate with strawberry filling." Buffy landing flashing eyes on her. "What?" the vampire asked innocently. "It's a gift."

"But the frosting?" Buffy pointed out.

"Is for my personal amusement, of course."

"Of course." Buffy shook her head, unstinted glee finally showing in a grin "Get me a knife so I can cut the damn thing."

Darla rolled her eyes. "You're already starting to sound more like him, do you know that?"

A moment later, a sharp cake knife appeared in her hand, and Buffy spoke as she took up slicing. "So anyway, did you and Faith have fun last night?"

Darla stared at her, before a serene nod accompanied her grateful smile in response to the question. "Yes, we did. Not one idiot human who doesn't have the sense to practice the buddy system in this town got in the way or tempted me with a fresh vein. The night was fun, but uneventful."

She paused in her cutting, glancing up to offer a look of encouragement. "I figured. Just felt like-"

"Checking on me?"

Buffy shrugged awkwardly. "Maybe... I was just thinking too much, that's all."

Darla shrugged. "It's okay. I appreciate it."

"You do? You don't think I'm like, being a mom or something?"

The vampire puffed out a breath of laughter that might have been a snort. "I can tell the difference between concern, and nagging." She set down her mug, moving nearer. "Buffy, how are you doing?" she asked, showing her own concern as the subject was changed. "Now that... Now that Hank is gone."

Buffy's lips snapped shut like a pair of cabinet doors, hiding the sounds of her grinding teeth. It was so easy sometimes to compartmentalize, separate her thoughts and worries like they were color coded. But when someone directly addressed one, she was often left without an ability to word her feelings; you would think English wasn't her first language sometimes.

"I- I don't-..." Her fingers tightened around the still handle in her palm. She took a deep breath. "I don't know how to answer that."

Darla nodded, picking her mug back up and remaining silent. She would let Buffy sort her thoughts out as best she could before asking another question.

A few moments went by, ticking silently away, until finally a response came. "I mean, he was my father but... that was before-" Buffy exhaled. "Spike killed a vampire, and I know that doesn't count for much, but the someone who had my father's face- just with fangs -was someone who wanted me dead. That wasn't my father." She sighed deeply, feeling a weight float quietly off her shoulders. "My dad stopped being... a dad when he left us. When he left Dawn and my mom, and me. But I know the difference between Hanks Summers the man, and the vampire that wanted to kill me. Spike killed him, and I'm okay with that. I think I'm honestly just trying to wrap my head around everything at this point."

Darla's wise eyes filled with something Buffy thought might be respect. Sipping at her drink, the blonde swallowed before she said, "And mourning your father? Even if he wasn't a good one, there was a time when... he used to be, and I know you must miss him. A lot of people wouldn't find it strange, though, even if you didn't. But I know you."

A hard frown settled on Buffy's face, and she shook her head. "I've missed him since he and my mom got divorced. Since way before he stopped even pretending to show an interest in us. Now that he's dead... I just have to- have to kind of..."

"Wrap your head around it."

Buffy smiled sadly, resuming her cake slicing. "Gee, where'd you get that notion?" she quipped.

"An intelligent friend who I care deeply about might have said something."

A short laugh, then a beat of quiet, and Darla decided that they'd talked about the unpleasant stuff long enough. She knew Buffy had yet to speak to Dawn about all of this, and she didn't want to touch on that subject and upset her friend anymore than she already had.

Instead, Darla tapped one manicured fingernail against the fridge door behind her, and said, "So, is leaving you notes going to become our chief method of communication until you and Spike wear each other out, or will I get to talk with you face to face occasionally?"

Buffy averted her eyes. "Sorry about the earplugs," she murmured.

"Don't be. It's your house, and about time you shared that bed with someone."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "How nicely put."

"Besides, soon enough it won't matter. I was thinking of... looking for my own place."

Buffy froze, her head snapping up once again like an unseen puppet master had yanked on a string. "What?"

Darla's charming smile sparkled with excited. "I've decided I'm coming back."

Dumbfounded, she blinked and added, "What?"

A scowl. "Say that again, please."

Buffy's lips spread and her teeth gleamed. She smiled so big that Darla almost didn't notice her move until getting knocked backwards into the counter. The vampire grunted, but hugged her friend in return and said good naturedly, "Break my back, why don't you."

Too busy laughing, and further displaying her joy by squeezing Darla like a stress ball, Buffy ignored her. She reared back to ask when this decision had been made, was Darla already looking at a place in the area, was it a permanent move?

Darla claimed she must have been away too long, because somehow, Sunnydale looked to have acquired a small amount of charm while she was gone, and after spending so much time with Buffy, she was more than just reluctant to leave; she was thoroughly disinclined.

"I can still travel," she said, "but for now, I plan on staying."

A few giggles and more hugging happened before Buffy released her and Darla added, "You and Spike will have this house all to yourselves shortly."

Resuming her post near the cake, Buffy looked down at it with an unwavering smile. "So we can knock the walls down, and wake the neighbors without disturbing you is what you're saying?"

Darla's eyes narrowed mockingly. "I'm only saying that for all that noise, he better have been good."

Before Buffy could answer, there was the sound of heavy footfalls in sync with the arrival of the aforementioned "he" and his rough cockney greeting to the other vampire in the room. "Evening, Darla," Spike said.

She smiled thinly at him. "Good evening, Spike. I'd like to ask, did you manage to break the headboard yet or-"

"Darla's moving back to Sunnydale!" Buffy interjected, her cheeks thoroughly reddened with both happiness and embarrassment. Was it impossible to catch a break? She wondered if perhaps she would acquire that same nice inability her vampire had to blush. Of course, if she did then it would be hard to tell when Spike got all flustered, and Buffy was rather fond of that trick. Ugh, necessary evils.

Her mate chuckled, at both the crimson color staining her cheeks and Buffy's sincere excitement. He came up behind her, planting a kissing to the back of her head. He'd already heard Darla's announcement from upstairs. "I know," he said. "That's great news, love."

Having felt numerous emotions coming from Buffy over the last five minutes, among them anxiety, amusement, sadness, nostalgia, elation, and others he couldn't quite identify, it was a relief to see her smiling now.

He'd really tried not to eavesdrop, but like a cat, curiosity was an affliction of Spike's, so he'd honed his senses and listened in.

He had been expecting more emotions to come up concerning her father, but it was safe to assume that Buffy was pushing her own feelings aside until she could talk to Dawn. Until that was done, he would not push or press her, and would encourage Buffy to confide in him when the time came.

Her startlingly bright, freckled green eyes looked at him, an expression of amused affront in them. "You were listening?" she demanded.

"That I was," he answered, unrepentant.

She only smiled, not bothered in the slightest. "Sneaky vamp," she remarked.

Spike tugged her more firmly against his chest and nuzzled at a place behind her ear, sending shivers through her whole system.

Darla cleared her throat. "This is why the cake," she said pointedly.

Buffy froze, a snicker slipping passed her lips; Spike slowly raised his head. "The what?"

"Aren't you the observant type," Darla said.

Buffy was laughing in his arms, and he looked to where she gestured at the island countertop. "What do you think?"

The message registered rather like a lightning strike. "When did we elope, pet?"

Buffy still couldn't help the giggling, really, she couldn't. His expression of absurd shock was just too funny. "Apparently, that's the equivalent of finalizing a claim. Didn't I say so once before, Spikey?"

Earlier, actually.

Buffy sent him another little grin. "It's Darla's way of saying-"

"Happy mating." She smiled cheerfully at the both of them.

Buffy set the knife aside and went to get plates. Spike dipped a finger in the white icing as his reaction wore off, and licked it clean, humming appreciatively. The joke was clear, but so was the show of support; Darla's way of making it known that she approved wholeheartedly of their "marriage."

The cake was good, too. Spike might be a fan of sweets overall, but this was delicious with all unbiased calculation, moist and rich, full of sugary flavor, and he didn't mind saying so. "Thanks, pet. Haven't had a slice of decent cake in a while."

Darla rose an eyebrow and blinked at him. "That was boringly civil. You're welcome, though."

"Yes, thank you," Buffy said, returning with three small plates and forks. "This was very sweet."

Darla rolled her eyes and then her shoulders, smirking delicately as she picked up a fork. "Let's be honest, it was worth seeing your faces."

Buffy dished up a middle square for her friend, a slim piece with extra strawberry filling for herself, and two large corner slices for Spike. She watched his tongue poke out to wet his lips in an expression of boyish anticipation, and tenderness erupted in her chest.

Darla soon opened a blood bag, and Buffy witnessed, silent and bemused, as the dark substance was trickled over white icing.

Darla handed the absurd topping over to Spike when he asked for it, and Buffy turned away before they could dig their forks in, focusing instead on the welcomingly distracting task of making tea.

Sooner or later, probably, she'd not even bat an eye at blood-topped chocolate cake, but until then, she would just refrain from looking, or rousing at Spike's chuckles that sounded far too amused. After all, she loved the silly vampire. What was a little blood-flavored cake, so long as she wasn't eating it.

________________________________________
END NOTES: Hi all! So the next chapters will come very shortly. I have them written, I just need to edit and post them. This one was lacking in plot, sort of like the last three or four... I know, I know, I am probably overwhelming you with the cheesiness, but some things have to be resolved before we can get to Dawn- And I promise, we WILL get to Dawn. I hope you like that Darla is going to be moving back to Sunnydale. I just couldn't make her leave after rekindling her friendship with Buffy. And as for the Hank issues, I'd say they're- FINALLY -pretty much resolved now. For Buffy at least. ;)

Thanks for reading and reviewing guys! *hugs* Also, as you all know, reviews make me smile so feel free to leave them for this chapter! :)





You must login (register) to review.