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Chapter 6



How much self-loathing could one man endure in a lifetime that consisted of centuries? Too much it seemed as Spike covered his face with his hands. The sound of her weeping cut through his very soul with the sympathy of a pit bull attacking a helpless kitten. It left a jagged, bleeding rip that left him wondering if it would ever heal. His own cruelty made him cower from the demon within him. A part of him screamed for him to return to Buffy. To gather her close to him, comfort her with pleas of love and forgiveness, and wipe away her tears. Even offer up his blood to make her smile again. His whole world could light up like the morning dawn when Buffy smiled.

Spike leaned back against the wall of the hallway because he knew he couldn’t. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to. If he did it would reward her behavior. The broken little girl would be his to nurture, to protect and to pet forever. She would become another Drusilla; a candle without the flame to give it purpose. And that was something he couldn’t bear. Not for Buffy. He would force her to the very edge and if necessary, push her over if it would only make her whole again.

Buffy’s spirit would emerge soon enough. Sometimes she doubted the resilience of her own soul, but she always came through in the end. Like a cornered lioness she could come out of the corner fighting with that fire blazing in her eyes. It didn’t matter what needed battling, she would give her all to defeat it. No matter what the price was, just like when she was forced to kill Angel, after the death of her mother, when Glory had taken Dawn and after her own resurrection. She would fight this time too. He had enough faith for them both to see her through to the other side.

He stood in the hallway, listening to her sobs, and hating himself. With every fiber of his being he listened, following her every movement by the various sounds that reached him, the broken plate being picked up, the sounds of running water before she came back to scrub the floor clean of the food, then finally the sound of her footsteps padding across the tile.

With a swiftness that only a creature like him could use, he retreated to the safety of his living room before she could see him. No matter the guilt he felt, she had to believe in the act that he was putting on for her. The coldness and anger of a heartless bastard that didn’t care about the pain he caused her. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t know any other way to bring Buffy’s fire back then to force it to ignite.

Violence was always the way between them as they fought and as they loved. They could never live as others lived. It was in their souls as they pushed beyond boundaries that mere mortals could never withstand. The passion, the love, and the blood they spilled because of it was so tightly bound together that the lines blurred between right and wrong. Every major stepping stone for them was bound in the fight, from the first time they met in the alley, to their first coupling and in the deaths that tried to bring them down. It would bring Buffy back this time, too. It always would.

Her footsteps hesitated at the entrance to the hallway as if she was listening to see where he was before she hurried on toward the bedroom. Her fear was ripe as it floated to him. It sickened him but he couldn’t stop. Not if he wanted Buffy to be the woman she was meant to be, the woman he loved.

With a heavy sigh, Spike retreated to the security of his couch and reached for the controller of his video games. It was patience he must cultivate now. Her obedience to him instead of the righteous anger he expected made him realize how broken her soul was and it would take longer for her to fight back.

So, he tried to become absorbed in the task of staying alive while traveling through worlds that reminded him of his own past. Yet somehow the woman down the hall kept encroaching upon his thoughts. He kept listening to her every move, to the sounds of her putting away her clothes, making the bed then finally the water turning on in the shower. She was doing exactly as he told her to do. Such obedience should have thrilled him but now it only compounded his guilt.

If nothing else the night before told him how much of a mistake he’d made to put off going to her. He should have gone to her the moment he was corporeal again. Instead he’d been stupid and selfish. How could he have shagged Harmony when the love of his life was halfway across the world grieving for him? Yet despite that she’d been at her peak, strong, free for the first time in seven years, and in love with life. She was touring places she’d only dreamed about and never thought she would see. He regretted not being there to see her face light up with each new discovery, sharing in her delight as she discovered new things or allowed him to teach her about the world.

His cowardice had nearly destroyed them both. Maybe now his love could rebuild them.

“Spike,” Buffy whispered from the doorway. She glanced at him then down at the floor.

Despite the pain her movement brought to him, her beauty touched him, feeding his hunger for the light like only she could. Her hair cascaded halfway down her back in a riot of gold that rivaled the sun. Even devoid of makeup she was more striking than any woman he’d ever known. Her body still made him ache to touch it even dressed in simple cotton Capri’s and t-shirt.

Unable to resist, he held his arms out to her. Every fiber of his being needed to touch her again. She smiled and came to him. He lost all thoughts except those that told him to pull her close against him, to kiss those lips that made him soar through the sky. He accepted her questing tongue, letting it explore his mouth, running over his teeth, tasting all of him. Without thought his hand molded to her breast, squeezing the soft mound, teasing the nipple with his thumb. She moaned deep in his mouth and he pulled her closer still. Here she was still his Buffy. They were a matched set. No one else could satisfy him like she could. She belonged to him…with him.

These moments were timeless, their bodies knew nothing of the past, or what might one day be. Only the present mattered. The pleasure they brought to one another. He accepted her hand slipping beneath his shirt. Her fingertips smoothing across the plane of his chest, brushing across his nipple, all the while her tongue still tangled with his. She shifted, his hands spanning her waist to hold her steady as she moved.

“Let me please you,” Buffy asked against his lips. She slipped to the floor between his legs. Her hands reached for the zipper of his jeans.

The moment was shattered. He looked down into eyes, not filled with the desire he hoped to see, but with a hunger to keep him happy. She wanted to satisfy the creature that could bring her such hurt. He knew what she was doing because he’d done it a thousand times for his self-proclaimed master.

Sexual favors were the ultimate bargaining tool. Many had lost their soul to keep the one they thought in power happy by the use of their body. Buffy was offering the one thing he said she was still good at. The only thing she thought she could control him with. Or at least keep him from hurting her anymore.

I’ll make you remember, flashed through his mind with the power of a falling anvil. His heart shattered as he remembered the lowest point of his life. He couldn’t do this. Not like this. Not like he once offered his body in return for her love. Service the girl, until it almost destroyed him and his battered heart.

“No, Buffy, no,” Spike said, taking a hold of her wrists. He tugged her to him, cuddling her against him, wishing things were simpler. All he knew was he couldn’t let her go that far. It was a place they could never come back from. Rocking her, he wrestled with his own guilt, the love he held for her, and ultimately her love for him.

~~~~~~~

This was where she was safe. Here, cradled in Spike’s arms. Buffy felt her body relax as his lips rustled through her hair while one hand caressed her leg. He was love. Buffy could let no other thought intrude upon her conclusion of his status in her life. The morning had already been dismissed as an anomaly caused by the emotional overload of the past day.

She sighed, nuzzling closer to him, letting her hand drift over the defined muscles of his chest. Pausing briefly, she rolled his nipple between her fingers before letting them tickle his side. It elicited a kiss to her forehead. They would make love soon. His cock was pressing against her thigh as if it was begging for her attention. She didn’t understand why he didn’t want her to go down on him. It was something he always wanted her to do in the past. Forcing her to her knees, on graves, in alleys, beside his bed, and once in the closet of her house on that horrible birthday where no one could leave. He’d told her that she was the best he’d ever had.

“I love you, Spike,” Buffy said, cupping his face. She gazed into those endless blue depths, seeing her own soul in them. “I really do. All I want is to be with you.”

“I know you do,” he whispered. His kiss was soft, close mouthed, and almost too innocent for them. She licked at his lips, wanting his tongue to play with hers. He pulled away.

“Don’t you want me anymore?”

He stiffened and she cringed away from him. She’d angered him again with her forwardness. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? Why did she have to try and push him beyond what he was comfortable with?

“Didn’t you get fucked enough last night?” Spike bit out making her cringe from the hurt in his voice.

Spike wouldn’t let her go though. His hand pressed between her legs, sliding the material between the folds of her cunt so that he could rub at her clit. She gasped at the contact. His eyes never broke with hers, her body responded to the harshness of his touch despite her uneasiness. He knew exactly how to bring her pleasure. Tears filled her eyes, even as she gasped from the pleasure he brought. Neither of them said a word as he continued to bring her to orgasm. It was lonely and cruel, much like their relationship from before.

Once she came, Buffy pushed him away, and ran to the bedroom. She slammed the door behind her. She hated him. She hated herself. Burying her face in her hands she cried out her confusion. He didn’t come to make it better. Spike always came to her. He was always there to take care of her. What had changed? Afraid of upsetting him, too critical of her own self-worth, Buffy curled up in the middle of the bed to wait.

The sounds of his video games reached her. Her eyes closed in loneliness and somewhere she must have drifted off. She didn’t know how long she slept or what Spike had done while she did. There was no clock in the bedroom so it could have been minutes or it could have been hours before she awoke. She lay still trying to get her bearings when she heard voices. Spike’s and someone else’s but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. They were both speaking in Spanish. Not knowing who was there or why, she waited until she heard the front door slam before leaving the bedroom. There were sounds coming from the kitchen so she headed that way again.

There was the smell of something spicy teasing at her. Her stomach growled. It had been so long since she’d eaten. She wondered if he’d let her eat anything or not then she shook her head. He wasn’t going to let her starve.

“You coming in or staying out there in the hall?” Spike called to her.

“Hey,” Buffy said, padding across the tile. It was still sticky in the place where her breakfast had landed. She must have missed a spot when cleaning the floor earlier. She made a mental note to return to clean it up later. “Something smells good in here.”

“Its enchiladas,” Spike answered her. He glanced up from where he was emptying a bag into the refrigerator. “I called a friend and had him bring some groceries along with something already made for lunch. You hungry?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, sitting at the counter again. Her mind was rebelling because she wanted to ask him what he thought since he’d taken her breakfast away. But she kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want another fight. “Some food would be good.”

“They’re in the bag. Why don’t you put them on some plates? When I’m done here we can eat.”

“Okay.”

For the next few minutes they were absorbed in their chores. It felt good to be working beside him in relative peace. He passed her once, patting her on the bottom and giving a quick kiss to the side of her neck. Buffy daydreamed about domestic bliss with this vampire she loved so much. It was just going to take time for them to get adjusted to one another that was all, she reassured herself as he caressed her again.

A long time had passed since they were together. They’d both changed and there was still so much to talk about. She just needed to be patient and it would all be as she fantasized it would be.

Spike poured them both a glass of sangria then sat the pitcher on the table. “Eat up, pet,” he said, sitting across from her.

“This is really good,” Buffy remarked, taking a bite of her chicken wrapped in a tortilla.

“Better than Taco Bell?” Spike teased.

“Yeah,” Buffy laughed, happy that he seemed to be content at the moment. “It’s really a nice house you have. I really like it.”

“Thank you,” Spike said, reaching over and wiping some sauce off her chin with his thumb. He sucked it off then reached for his wine. “It was pretty much a hovel when I moved in. My crypt was nicer than this place. Didn’t have anything else to do so I worked on fixing it up.”

“Must have been that decorator you ate,” Buffy teased back. “I remember the crypt being rather nice, too.”

“It wasn’t a bad place at the time. We had some good times there.”

Did they? The fighting and the sex seemed to have almost overwhelmed any good times they might have had. There were a few moments when things between them were pleasant. Times when they laughed or talked in between the bouts of fucking. She cherished those moments now and regretted that there weren’t more of them.

“Yeah, we did,” Buffy replied softly with a smile.

Spike only nodded in reply. He returned to eating with an appetite that surprised her. He’d always eaten but this time it was like he was starving for real nourishment. She didn’t ask though, afraid of disturbing the fragile truce between them. She couldn’t find anything else neutral to talk about and he didn’t say anything so they finished in silence.

“I’ll clean up if you’d like,” Buffy offered, picking up his plate along with her own.

“No, I’ll help,” Spike said, taking the glasses and pitcher into the kitchen.

The clean up was much like the preparation in that they worked together. They seemed to have a rhythm that was so natural she felt like they’d been doing it forever. It only reinforced her theory that this was meant to be and eventually Spike would settle down. She hung the dishtowel on the rack beside the sink before turning to Spike.

“So, what’s there to do around here in the afternoon?”

“Bored already, Luv?” Spike asked with his infamous head tilt and raising of one brow directed at her. He stepped closer to her, pinning her between him and the counter. His hands encircled her wrists and spreading them out beside her then leaned into her. He stared down into her face for a moment. “Do you regret being here?”

“No, I’ve already told you that I love you,” Buffy said. She kept telling herself to be pleasant. Not to rise to any bait he offered her. This time was going to be different. She wasn’t going to be the bitch that everyone had branded her before. That woman had died one night in Italy when she found out that the only two men she’d ever loved had been killed in a battle they knew they couldn’t win. After that nothing really mattered and she didn’t care what happened to her. So, she spent her time trying to make everyone happy, bending over backwards being kind. Somehow she’d been offered a second chance and if it killed her she’d never be the old Buffy who chased everyone off. “I want to be with you, Spike. Believe me.”

“I do,” Spike said, trailing kisses along her neck. He licked at Angel’s mark. “I know I’m the only one for you. Otherwise I’d never have come for you and you wouldn’t have come with me if you didn’t know it, too.”

She wanted to ask why he was being alternately mean then loving toward her. She wanted to know why he’d waited for so long to come and get her. The words wouldn’t form though. He was touching her in all those places that he knew would send her swooning into his arms. She closed her eyes trying to keep back the tears that were always too ready these days.

“Please,” Buffy said, unable to ask him to be gentle with her. She didn’t have the right after all the things she’d done to him. The beatings, the emotional pain, the using of his love and body to make her feel again; it had all been too cruel. She’d tried to grind him under the heel of her boot. And so many times she’d succeeded. Why should he be any different to her now? “I love you so much,” was all she could say and hoped it would reach him.



to be continued…





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