Cradling her right arm against her chest to shelter her wrist, Buffy knocked on the bathroom door. She bit her lip with uncertainty. She wasn’t used to being so polite to the person on the other side of the door.
Nothing. No response.
The winds from the hurricane outside were loud, insistent, and now familiar. And just as she had knocked, something had crashed against Giles’s apartment, probably covering up her efforts to communicate.
She almost gave up, taking the covering noise as a sign that perhaps she shouldn’t bother him because she wasn’t worth the bother. She shook her head and gave her foot a little stomp as if to try to rid her brain of the vestiges of the amped-up insecurity from the key spell. She wasn’t sure it worked.
The reality was that maybe she was worth something more than what she’d experienced so far. Spike had even said so, and perhaps it meant she should knock louder and not walk away.
Her second knock came out more strident than she intended.
“Yeah?” Spike’s voice came from inside. He sounded tired.
Trying not to wake Giles up, she said, “I need your help.” Luckily, nature didn’t muffle her message this time.
Silence met her ears, and her heart dropped in disappointment.
Then, there was a low rustling, and the door opened without fanfare or snide remarks. His curls were messy and un-styled, and somehow he managed to look sexy in one of Giles’s plainer T-shirts. “With what?” His blue eyes were dark in the soft light coming from Giles’s guest room.
She held up her damaged wrist, wincing a little at the pain. “The binding wasn’t tight enough, and I tried to fix it, but well. . . it didn’t exactly work out. And Giles passed out on the sofa. I couldn’t wake him up. He’s been working too hard, and I think the spell took it out of him.”
Giles had held it together for spying on Glory, helping with the crisis, depositing the heartbroken man at home, and then driving them back to his apartment in the beginnings of the hurricane-force winds. But he had had a brief crying spell about the state of his life when he saw his place again. While Spike had poured him a glass of brandy, Giles had discovered that a couple of his books were glowing green. He had scooped them both up in his arms, downed the brandy, and collapsed on the sofa, promptly falling fast asleep.
“I can help.” Spike backed into the bathroom, turning on the light.
“Thanks.” Buffy squinted at the contrasting brightness, blinking her eyes. “It should be okay tomorrow or the day after, but I. . . it kind of hurts now.”
As Spike touched her wrist and then turned it over with expert gentleness, she shivered. She noticed that he’d tended to the wounds on his head. She felt guilty that she hadn’t offered to help him. Who was she to ask for his help?
“Cold, pet?” he asked, more focused on the way the bandage wound around her arm and not at all noticing her distress about his bumps and scrapes.
“No,” she said despite the goosebumps. She was suddenly very aware that she was only wearing one of Giles’s oversized T-shirts with something about a school fundraiser emblazoned on the front. Underneath that shirt was only a pair of panties. Luckily, she didn’t have to look him in the eye.
Spike moved with precision, unwrapping the bindings to uncover bare flesh and the bruises underneath. “She bruised you up plenty. Set your own bone, I see.”
“Yeah.” Buffy shrugged a shoulder with indifference to her injury. “Happens sometimes. I’m usually good at taking care of things like this myself, but it’s too. . .” She was lying to herself and him, but she didn’t move away. “I could probably re-wrap myself.”
His thumb skimmed lightly over the darkest bruise, not even drawing a hint of pain from her. “It’s no bother. Let me.”
She was making this a habit – letting him take care of her. “Okay.”
He must have done this in the past for himself or Dru. Surely in over a hundred years, he’d come across injuries more than a few times. In any case, he re-wrapped her arm with tender consideration of her injury. When she hissed in pain, he adjusted. She tried not to focus on how his fingertips lingered on her arm or how much her body was responding to the barest hint of his cool flesh on hers.
When he finished and let go, she took a step back in surprise that it was over, her heart pounding in her chest and other parts of her tingling. What was she doing here?
She still couldn’t look him in the eye but glimpsed the carefully dried out shower set up like a bed with a pillow and several blankets. Though they’d stowed him in the tub when he was first chipped, it somehow seemed wrong now. “You can’t sleep in here.”
“Whole place smells – ”
“Is it bad?” Buffy worried. Did she smell? After all, she was the last to shower, and she’d left him to mop up the mess before he made his bed.
Spike chuckled. “No. It’s actually the opposite.”
“Huh?”
“You smell heavenly, Slayer.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flamed with heat. Her heart skipped a beat, and her next question tumbled out before she could stop it. “About Harmony.”
“What about her?” He sounded amused, and her nervousness threatened to tilt into anger.
“You were very kind to her earlier.” Jealousy took the place of anger. God, was she back there again?
“She was sobbing her heart out, and we were trying to suss out what was going on. What’d you want me to do? Torture her? Don’t think that’d have gone over so well with you or Rupert. Plus, when a lady’s in pain, torture isn’t exactly my M.O.” Spike’s tone edged in exasperation. That annoyance was what Buffy was used to; it was comforting in a way. That way, she knew that the hurricane hadn’t completely made them bonkers.
“No. But are you two – ”
“Do you see her here?”
“No.” A giggle slipped past Buffy’s lips. “It was kinda funny how she and Glory’s minions just sort of instantly clicked.” Harmony had decided to wait out the storm in Glory’s mansion. Her minions, seemingly lost without Glory, had glommed onto Harmony like she was their new master, and Harmony had eaten it up – no pun intended. “Seems like she completely forgot about that guy in the basement.”
“Seems like.”
Buffy’s eyes widened at her accidental insinuated similarities between hurricane party guy and Spike. “But you’re very different than him.”
“Right.” Buffy couldn’t read Spike’s expression, but when he met her eyes with his piercing blue gaze that could probably see right inside her mind, she was surprised to see he didn’t seem to care. “Pet, what do you think I’m doing here?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“What kind of man do you think I am?”
Why was he asking her so many questions? The storm outside reflected the storm in her belly, and thunder punctuated her point. “You’re not a man; you’re a vampire.”
He sighed. “I know that. Just answer the question.”
“You’re a vampire who wanted to kill me. Lots of times.” Okay, it was the first thing that came to her mind but wasn’t what she wanted to say.
But Spike didn’t know that. His nostrils flared with impatience. “Did I kill you during the storm? Who cooked for you, helped you gather up your belongings, gave you a place to sleep when the bloody ceiling was caving in, and snagged your knickers for you?”
“You stole them for you. Because you’re a weirdo.” Well, that was better than what she usually called him. Softer, at least.
“Fine.” He sighed, leaning against the bathroom sink with his fingers gripping the ceramic edge. He closed his eyes for several seconds before watching her evenly. Was that uncertainty in his eyes? “Do you remember what we were talking about before Rupert and Harmony showed back up with Glory’s minion?”
Buffy didn’t have to think too hard about that one. It was right on the surface. “That you’re old-fashioned and monogamous for a vampire?”
Spike’s eyes widened a touch as if he was a little surprised that she remembered. “Yeah.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I’ve been in your shoes.”
“No, you really haven’t.” Was Spike trying on her shoes in addition to stealing her panties?
Spike rolled his eyes. “Not in the way you’re thinking. God, woman. I mean I’m monogamous and haven’t ever really had that in return. Not really. Dru had her dalliances over the years.”
Buffy was shocked by this. “Even though you were together?”
“Yeah, even though. Often, dear old Angelus was in her bed but so were a variety of others.” Taking in Buffy’s no-doubt stunned expression, Spike added, “It’s normal with most vampires.” He lifted his chin. “It’s not what I want. And Harmony isn’t either. She’s. . . what do you call them?”
“A rebound?”
“That’s it. A rebound that’s over. Just like you and what’s-his-name?”
Buffy realized with a jolt that Riley was her rebound. “Riley.”
“I need to be able to have a conversation with the person I’m with. Without worrying they’ll go off their rocker or suggest going to sodding France again. Someone who challenges me.” His blue eyes found Buffy’s again, and she saw vulnerability there.
Was he talking about her? Was that what he meant about them being similar? “I, uh, me, too.”
“And you deserve that. Not soldier boy, not Angelus. You deserve someone who will stick around.”
She ducked her head again, tears welling up.
“You are well worth sticking around for.” Spike was so sure. How was he so sure?
Memories of being in Spike’s arms and of kissing him and loving him rose up in her brain, shoving past the sadness. And then, there was last night when they’d ended up spooned together on the cot. Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place as she stared at the bathtub where he was supposed to sleep. The tears dissipated. “Y-you’re attracted to me.”
“More than that, pet. More than that,” he said so softly and deep that she almost didn’t hear it over the sounds of the storm outside.
Before she could reply, he traversed the short distance between them, his fingers lifting her head and his familiar lips finding hers. She froze for half a second – really not long at all, and then, she felt the air leave her lungs in relief before she kissed him back with pent up hunger that she didn’t realize was there. It was a bit like coming home; a home she had denied so long that she had literally shoved it in the closet, locked the door, and tried to throw away the key. Key. A second giggle bubbled forth.
Spike drew back in alarm. “What’s funny?”
Buffy held onto him with her good arm until he relaxed. “The whole key thing. Dawn’s safe. Glory’s gone. Well, that’s not funny. Can’t believe that she turned into that guy before she. . . he got squished. I don’t even want to try to understand that major weirdness.”
“Glad your sis will be safe.” Spike’s relief was genuine.
“Thank you for helping,” she said with equal candor. She tugged on him, nudging her nose toward his. “Where were we?”
Before Spike could reply, she was kissing him again, slipping her tongue through his parted lips and her fingers under the hem of his cotton shirt. His skin was cool and soft with firm muscles just beneath the surface – the opposite of how he was in real life. She never knew how in shape he was for a vampire until Willow’s spell, and if Buffy was being honest with herself, she’d missed touching him when the spell was over. Spike’s hand ran down her back as he kissed her, finding a sensitive spot that sent another shiver over her whole body. She returned the favor by sliding her unhurt hand down the back of his jeans to grip his bottom. He groaned and nipped at her lower lip before moving away to press kisses down her neck. Buffy was so lost in sensation that she forgot her hand.
Hot pain led to her, “Ow.”
Spike’s face was full of concern as he found her wrist and pressed a fond kiss to her bandaged-covered veins.
Buffy was amused that the vampire couldn’t get to her blood like that. Spike caught her smile and smiled back at her. She hadn’t seen him smile like that since the spell, and she liked it. She liked the way the light touched his eyes with little crinkles sprouting at the corners, and she liked how much younger the happiness made him look when he wasn’t smirking or posturing. She couldn’t help but dive in for a kiss before moving a little out of his embrace.
At his alarm, she said, “We need a new plan.” Then, she went to the bathroom door and eased it closed – the click camouflaged by the howling winds and pouring rain. She pivoted to face him then and tried to strip off Giles’s t-shirt. This was a bit of a failure because her wrist hurt too much, and in her embarrassment, she struggled more, which only made it worse.
Before she realized what was happening, Spike was kneeling before her, kissing her belly. He gazed up at her in adoration. “You want this?”
She knew Spike wasn’t the type to ask permission, and yet, here he was, asking her permission. She bit her lip and nodded affirmation.
His eyes narrowed then and filled with a wicked glint. “Good.”
His kisses travelled up and up, and when he reached her heaving chest and bare breasts, she thudded back against the door, lost in the sensation of his tongue over first one nipple and then the other. His hand crept between her thighs as he kissed the base of her neck, and he opened her up to a whole new world of expert precision as he teased and rubbed and squeezed, and she felt like she was going to explode with energy or melt into a puddle on the floor. She didn’t really care which because she gasped as she came early and fast.
He worried with her earlobe as she came back to her senses and whispered, “That’s only the beginning, pet.”
Before she could respond, he was helping her with the irritating shirt, and without much fuss, it was gone. She half-edged him out of his until he swooped it off. She kissed him again with a little laugh and then pulled him flush against her. The door banged a little too hard in the frame, and her eyes rounded as she froze to listen. Spike followed suit.
All Buffy could hear was the hurricane all around them.
“Anything?” she whispered.
“Nothing at all. Your Watcher is still fast asleep as far as I can tell.”
“Good,” she echoed, thumbing open his jeans and pulling down the zipper.
Spike helped her by shimmying his hips so that the denim fell away and he filled her unhurt hand. She was pleased to see just how hard he already was for her. As she stroked him, she kept her eyes on him, watching his face shift into an expression of raw pleasure. When she could no longer stand not having him inside her, she nudged him back.
He groaned.
“Get in the tub,” she ordered, sliding off her wet panties.
He grinned as he climbed in. “Bossy bint.”
She threw a leg over the edge of the tub as he laid back. Both her knees went around his hips, and she discovered that somehow, he’d made the stiff surface comfortable with blankets and more than one pillow. Focus on the bathroom appliance was a fleeting thought though because she wanted him. More than anything, she wanted him. So, slick and ready, she slid on top of him. Staying with him for a moment, she let him fill her up, and then she wanted more, so she began moving. He gripped her hips as she started picking up speed – one arm holding onto the edge of the tub and her hurt one cradled against her belly. She moved faster and faster as he urged her on. His hips met her with equal gusto. He also came quickly, calling her name, and she went over the edge with him once again. Her cries of pleasure were barely muffled by a convenient burst of gale-force winds from the hurricane that left the walls shaking and the window rattling.
She couldn’t fall forward, so she rolled over so that her injured arm was up, and she snuggled up against him. “That was amazing. Fast but amazing.” She paused for half a second. “Oh, I needed that.” And she had. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed it.
Spike patted her thigh. “We’ll go slower next time.”
“Next time?” Would there be a next time?
“It’s a promise. I’m not going anywhere after that.” Spike nuzzled her hair.
“I’ll hold you to it.” Buffy yawned, suddenly tired.
There was a loud boom of unexpected thunder, which made them both jump a little. A few seconds ticked by. Then, the lights flickered and went out.
“That’s convenient,” she said, settling down again and closing her eyes.
“It certainly is, pet. It certainly is. Get some shut-eye.”
“You’ll be here when the storm is over?” she asked, a hint of insecurity coming up.
“I’ll be here when the storm is over,” he assured her.
With that, Buffy fell asleep, glad that a hurricane had decided to come to Sunnydale. Her family would be safe, and somehow, she’d found her way back to Spike again – something she hadn’t ever expected to do. This time, it felt right; she wouldn’t be leaving his side. At the very least, she wouldn’t be moving until Giles woke up and had to go to the bathroom. ‘Cause that was destined to be majorly weird.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay...I wrote more because I couldn't sleep. So one more part after this one.