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Chapter 8 - Belonging


Walking into the Bronze, Spike had an angry expression on his face as he looked around the crowded club.

“This disappearing/reappearing act of hers is getting old,” he muttered, scanning the dancing bodies. Catching a glimpse of blonde hair, he made his way to the edge of the floor.

His expression darkened when he saw Buffy surrounded by a bunch of guys and tantalizingly swaying her hips to the beat of the music. He watched her for a moment, raising an eyebrow when she looked up and locked eyes with him. He was slightly taken aback when a bright smile lit up her face and she eagerly ran over to him, using her momentum to jump into his arms and lock her arms around his neck. Catching her with a slight “Oomph”, Spike tried not to focus on the feel of her smooth curves beneath his hands as he held her in place. Realizing a moment later that he was having a very unwelcome reaction, or maybe it was welcome, at the fact that she was straddling his hips, he looked into her bright eyes and his frown deepened when she gave him another smile.

“Hi,” she said brightly, obviously enjoying the feel of his hands on her waist as she wriggled around a little bit.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, looking at the boys who had been surrounding her moments ago and were now wondering why the blonde ran off.

“Dancing,” she replied, feeling him shift slightly and easily dropping to her feet, letting her hands fall away from his neck and using the opportunity to run over the defined muscles in his chest as she continued to stand in front of him, pressing her body to his.

“Foreplay, more like it,” Spike scoffed, looking around the club and trying to appear disinterested.

“Jealous?” she asked with a smoldering fire in her eyes that should have been outlawed.

“Jealous?” he repeated with a forced laugh, trying not to notice the way she looked in the tight black pants and form-fitting, flimsy excuse for a tank top or the way his brain was losing all blood as it rushed toward his lower regions. “Don’t make me laugh, sweetheart,” he said in a mocking tone.

“Fine,” Buffy said with a shrug, turning toward the dance floor. “I’ll see you around.”

“And where the bloody hell do you think you’re going?” Spike asked, catching her arm before she made her escape.

“To dance. Work off some steam…maybe have a little foreplay,” she added with a smirk that let him know she knew exactly what she was doing.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, jerking her toward the door. “You’re coming with me.”

“What are you doing?” Buffy asked, her good mood instantly evaporating as she angrily struggled against him while he continued to lead her outside.

“Taking you home. Willow and Tara are worried sick about you. You do realize that you’re past your curfew?”

“I don’t need a curfew,” she grumbled, avoiding his eyes.

“Maybe not. Seems to me you need a good spanking.”

“You volunteering?” she asked with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t go there,” Spike said, trying to rid his brain of the images that seemed to materialize, not helping his train of thought. “They’re worried, and I don’t fancy waiting around until you ‘work off some steam’ before I take you home.”

“You really need to work on your grabby issues,” she said through gritted teeth, jerking her arm out of his grasp. “And for your information, I can take care of myself.”

“Really?” Spike retorted, closing the distance between them as his eyes narrowed. “Is that why Daddy Dearest sent you here? Because you do such a wonderful job of showing that you can take care of yourself?”

Seeing the crestfallen look and watery eyes at the mention of her father, Spike suddenly felt like the biggest creep in the world.

“I’m sorry, kitten. That came out all wrong,” he said gently.

Buffy nodded, turning toward the entrance of the alley and walking away from him.

“Buffy-”

“Don’t,” she whispered, wrapping her arms securely around herself. “I just want to go home.”

Sensing that the ‘home’ she mentioned was in Los Angeles, Spike merely nodded and began walking toward Revello Drive, wishing that he hadn’t royally shoved his foot in his mouth for a change.

* * * * *

Getting closer to her house, Spike was becoming more unnerved as they walked. Buffy hadn’t said anything since they’d left the alley, and he was beginning to feel as if a wall was between them. Normally the time they spent together was filled with her bubbly chatter or, at the very least, a comfortable silence. But this was too strained, even for him.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he whispered, seeing her eyes briefly dart over to his before looking away as they climbed the steps to her porch. “Angel sent you here to keep you safe…you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, suddenly finding her hands extremely interesting as she fiddled with her thumb. “He wants to keep me so safe that he never even comes to see me. I feel like he’s not even my father. He’s just some stranger who I happen to share some DNA with.” Her brow furrowed before turning to Spike. “He’s dead…can I share DNA with a dead person?”

Breathing a sigh of relief that she didn’t appear to be mad at him, Spike smiled. “You’re asking the wrong person, pet. But he is your father, so I would say that it’s a strong possibility.”

Buffy nodded, glancing at the door. “I’m not trying to be some kind of spoiled brat,” she said softly. “I’m just trying to find my place around here…does that make sense?”

“More than you know,” he replied with a gentle smile, resisting the urge to reach out and caress her cheek.

“I feel like I don’t belong here…like I’ve never belonged here.”

“You do,” he whispered, hooking a finger under her chin and drawing her attention to his eyes. “You’re where you belong.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” she said in a whisper.

Feeling the energy practically crackling between them, Spike took a step back, breaking contact with her and trying not to think about the strange sense of loss that accompanied the move. “I better get going.”

“Yeah,” Buffy murmured, briefly glancing over her shoulder at the house. “I better get inside.”

Watching as Spike walked down the steps of the porch, she slowly turned and reached for the door handle.

“Hey, Goldilocks!” Spike called, bringing a smile to her lips when she turned around and saw him by the street, looking back at her. “No matter what happens…you know I love you.”

Wishing with all her heart that he meant that in a different context, Buffy decided to relax and take what she could get. “I know,” she replied with a smile. “I love you, too.”





Thanks so much to: Caitie, Scarlet, Ash, Cordykitten, bex makes u fly, ebontier, Kimber, Spikes Sweety, Amanda, Juanita, Josephina, spufette, shelly, samica, Alicia, Celestria, Amanda, phantomwriter, Jade2099, gypsy_jin, blondiebear, stace, willowmouse, Caatje, rockerbaby, pj, melissa g, nightengale1824, lilmamaday, BuffyandSpikeForever, dreamgirl4eva, Renee, Adriana, Laine, jessiesaly, starhawk, BuffyRat, & Jessica for reviewing!





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