(no subject)
May. 31st, 2006 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constance_bSo here's chapter four of Softer World, and just to neaten things up the previous three chapters all under separate cuts. It was mostly written a while ago, don't go expecting updates every week, I know some people manage it but I really don't know how, takes a long time to write a fic in which nothing happens. Unbeta'd as usual and quotes liberally stolen from the show, as I'm sure you'll all notice.
Chapter One
Spike balanced himself on the awning outside the Slayer's window and listened to her dream. The tiny whimpers told him it was a bad one but there were no words, nothing to indicate which of the troubles in her life was giving her nightmares at the moment. He hesitated on the window ledge, unwilling to enter uninvited. She may have been spirited in her defence of him the day before but Spike was afraid of her reaction if she woke to find him in her room.
But a second anguished sob broke his resolve and a moment later he was kneeling beside the bed, gently shaking Buffy's shoulder.
"Spike, no!" she screamed, jerking bolt upright.
Ah, that dream. Spike blanched and was already backing away, hands up in denial, as she opened her eyes.
Buffy had seemed perfectly relaxed in his company during the day, no longer skittish as he'd put it. Had requested his presence, more than once, and he'd allowed himself to hope that she was starting to forget how he'd hurt her, now he'd have to chalk that down to Buffy's amazing fortitude and dedication to the mission.
That was his girl alright, gold medal in bottling things up. Too focused on her duty to bother with hysterics, and too compassionate to hate him like she must want to. These last few weeks he thought he'd been helping, she'd asked him to stay; maybe she just knew how much he needed to feel needed.
And it left Spike in a bit of a dilemma. To flee now would be cowardly and downright strange, but he was well aware he was the last person she would want to see right now.
********
Buffy swam into consciousness to find she was already sitting up. She blinked owlishly at Spike who looked like small child caught at a bad thing, backing towards the bedroom window in nervous dismay.
"Sorry L... Slayer, didn't mean to intrude. You were... I mean... I'll be off."
Buffy ran a tired hand through her hair. "S'okay. Stay a minute. I was having a really horrible dream."
"Yeah, I heard." Spike shook his head, half to himself, refusing to meet her eye. "Can't be nice waking up to find me here, I'll get out of your hair." He dared a glance up. "I am so sorry, Slayer."
"Kind of got used to you calling me Buffy," she remarked absently, rubbing her eyes again and trying to shake off that nightmare feeling of dread. She eyed Spike narrowly. "It's not so much better waking up in a cold sweat on your own, no need to be sorry."
"Meant about giving you nightmares in the first place. And you can't want me here, do understand that."
"You'd think you'd have learnt your lesson, assuming you know what I want."
Spike visibly flinched, frozen halfway between the bed and the window. And where the hell had self-pitying Spike returned from when they were getting along so nicely?
Comprehension dawned, only one thing could make Spike brood.
"Wasn't that kind of dream," she spoke softly, "And I didn't mean it like that."
Buffy wanted to say more, cause it was unnatural seeing Spike so dejected, but she didn't want to think about her dream and was too tired to find the words.
"Wasn't the other kind," said Spike dryly, not approaching the bed. "They smell nicer. And you said my name, screamed my name. Again, not in a good way." His eyes were sympathetic as much as pained, no melodrama here, just regret.
Maybe Buffy could learn to appreciate the new Spike, if only he would stop moping. But right now she was missing the classic version, especially the way he told her everything in a stream of consciousness rant that left her in no doubt what he was thinking. God he could be exhausting, but she had less than no idea of what to do with penitent Spike.
"Wasn't that kind of dream," Buffy repeated. "Only a nightmare of the standard 'we're all going to die' variety. Everyone was dead." She shuddered despite herself, trying to erase the mental image of her slain friends.
"I killed them?"
"Hell no!" Buffy exclaimed with genuine exasperation. "There really is just the one lonely track in your mind, isn't there? And I really think I preferred it when the train was going in the other direction. Was a time when if I'd said your name in my sleep you'd never let me forget it, now you get all offended."
"I'm not-" for a second there was a glimpse of the old Spike, quickly reined in. Buffy decided to poke a little more.
"You know, you're starting to sound entirely too much like another vampire of my acquaintance."
"So what were you telling me not to do?"
The question was mildly spoken but the fear in his voice gave him away, he was plainly sure his original assumption was correct.
"You don't have to spare my feelings," he continued when she didn't answer. "I deserve it, we both know it, but you don't and I'm so-"
"Disintegrate," interrupted Buffy, unable to stand any more.
"Huh?"
If a reference to Angel wasn't enough to distract him she'd just have to steel herself and find the words. "The Uber-vamp killed everybody. You remember, the evil baddies that I'm actually worried about? I was going to kill the Uber-vamp when you just appeared, like apparated. Now I think about it, was probably my subconscious noticing you in the room. Like when your alarm goes off and your dream suddenly gets real noisy? Or if you get cramp in the night and dream something's biting your leg. Do vampires get cramp?"
Turned out her subconscious really didn't want to talk about her dream, either. She noticed
Spike's raised eyebrow. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"
"Yeah," agreed Spike fondly. "But I'm making a tit of myself so you're one up."
Buffy returned his grin but still felt a little uneasy, dreams for her too often portents. And she wanted to make sure he understood.
"I staked you," she confessed. "I was going for the Uber-vamp and I couldn't stop and you dusted. Really wasn't a good dream. But it was kind of nice that you were here when I woke up. And by the way? I think you've apologised enough for your entire existence, and if you don't cut it out you're going to end up with a deficit of evil deeds to catch up on."
And there was a real smile, the one he seemed to save specially for her.
"'Kay Love." His eyes held oceans of feeling but all he said was; "I'll take my self absorbed arse out of here and let you get some sleep."
Buffy pouted and wriggled over to the far side of the bed. "Stay. You can protect me from the nasty nightmares."
She guiltily enjoyed watching Spike's face try to decide on an expression. Surprise, pleasure, doubt, more guilt, and oh look, lust. But Buffy almost wished she hadn't spoken as he seemed to settle on embarrassment and toed at her carpet as he answered.
"Mighty kind of you Love. But I think I'm safest in the basement."
Buffy shrugged and burrowed herself under the covers. Well damn him too, not like she was going to jump him and they really did have an overcrowding problem.
"Suit yourself. But you'll be sharing with two new potentials and frankly I snore less."
Spike narrowed his eyes. "More girls?"
"'Fraid so. Giles got back after you went to patrol." Buffy folded back a corner of the duvet and patted the bed invitingly. "You are welcome, Spike, though it's okay if you'd rather not."
"Oh I'd rather." He stared at her a long moment before seeming to come to a decision, strode swiftly across the room and sat down on the bed. His movements were brusque and defensive as he unlaced his boots. "One more teenager and I might have had a relapse."
He suddenly turned and frowned anxiously. "I'm kidding, you know that, right?"
Buffy offered him a sleepy smile. "You're such an idiot, sometimes. I thought we were friends now?"
The absurdly pleased smile he gave her in return made Buffy feel indefinably guilty as he shrugged off his duster and got into bed fully clothed. Impulsively she snuggled against his chest.
Spike hesitated a second then put his arm round her shoulder and lightly kissed her hair.
"So we're friends now?"
A flash of panic but it didn't sound like a loaded question, just hopeful.
"Yes," she answered firmly.
"We're gonna win, Buffy Love. You're gonna give the source of all evil a darned good talking to and break all its evil toys and I'll have your back, the whole time, you know that?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Cause you deserve to have nice dreams about puppies and boybands and such."
Buffy laughed. Tried to imagine a dream where she slaughtered evil boybands but was just too tired. And this was just so... nice. Could dream about fluffy bunnies every night, sleeping like this, held and soothed and protected.
Why did her life have to be so complicated?
"Night Spike."
"Goodnight Buffy."
********
Spike listened as her breathing deepened and her heart rate slowed, wished he could pinpoint and preserve the precise moment of her falling asleep in his arms. When he was sure she was under he planted another soft kiss on her forehead.
"Love you, Buffy."
"Love you too," she muttered against his chest.
Spike smiled. It may not be him she was dreaming of this time, but it was enough that he'd stopped the nightmares.
Chapter Two
Buffy woke to familiar and long missed sensations. Cool hard muscle against her back, the heel of a hand lightly resting on the curls between her legs, fingers gently stroking the inside of her thigh starting a delicious tension in her body.
Sleepily she sensed as much as remembered Spike. She could feel him curled around her, face buried in the curve of her shoulder, denim clothed erection hard against her backside. From the aimless smoothing of his fingers and the stillness of his ever busy mouth Buffy guessed he was still asleep and took a moment to enjoy his gentle touch. Arousing and yet she felt tranquil; it was hard not to imagine what might have been.
And those fingers, making her moist even in sleep from sheer memory of what they could do. Unconsciously Buffy arched back against Spike, who moaned into her neck and pulled her tighter.
"Spike?" she asked softly.
"Mmmm," He shifted against her, fingers moving confidently to her slit. Found her pleasure spot, moving in rhythm with her breathing, and Buffy felt herself quickly getting to a place where control wasn't.
"Spike?" she repeated a little louder, reluctant to move in case she caused a... reaction. "You awake?"
"Buffy..." he breathed reverently into her hair, nuzzling closer to inhale the scent of her skin. Then froze. "Buffy?"
There was a very long silence as neither so much as twitched. Eventually the tension got to the Slayer.
"Would you move, one way or the other, the suspense is killing me."
And move he did, getting tangled in the bedding in his haste to be away from her. "I am so very sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to... I'm so... Shit!"
Buffy snagged his T-shirt and unceremoniously yanked him back down on the bed. Half wanted to knock a little confidence back into him but he looked so very guilty she didn't have the heart.
God she was sick of guilty Spike. 120 years of killing people and she just knew all that guilt was tied up to five minutes in her bathroom.
"I thought we agreed you needed to go cold turkey on the apologising?"
"Yeah. I'm..." Spike caught himself and managed a wry chuckle. "I'm guessing saying sorry for apologising is going to get me a slap?"
"At the very least," said Buffy firmly, leaning back against the headboard. She was still feeling illicit tingles, but now was definitely time for mature Buffy, not the nympho ho-biscuit version. So she tried to put lustful memories out of her mind and concentrate on this new man before her.
He looked much the same, black uniform and radioactive hair still screaming big bad but the body language no longer matched; still and supplicating instead of confident and graceful. Underneath she was certain she could see much of the old Spike, not in the wishful way she'd tried to trace Angel's likeness in Angelus' mocking features, but the traces of wit and perception that leaked through his new demeanour.
In the few weeks he'd been relatively sane they'd had one crisis, and potential, after another to deal with.
It had been easy to think of Spike in the context of a problem to be solved, a hostage to be rescued, another body to find space for in her ridiculously crowded house. And another strain on the tense relationship between the Slayer and her former mentor.
She'd not had to consider Spike the person when she'd decided to have the chip removed. Repair would have meant further contact with the Initiative, one way or another, and he'd earned the benefit of the doubt. Now he had a soul he fell into the category of people to be rescued, rather than disposed of, a Scooby of sorts and under the Slayer's protection.
There'd been no shortage of high drama, but none of it really helped her figure out who he was.
"So you gonna talk to me, or just leave in a really awkward silence? And before you say it, I'm aware of the irony."
Spike gave her a smile that turned tingles into something warmer. "You're a fucking lovely woman, you know that?"
He ducked his head bashfully and Buffy found herself blushing right along with him, took his hand as he continued. "You should hate me. What I did to you was unforgivable. But you make me welcome. Can't tell you, Love, what it means to me."
A girl could lose herself in that voice. Not the same rough drawl that whispered unspeakable things in her ear, but an old Spike voice just the same. Full of wonder and love, exuding feeling. Had the same effect too, make her feel weak at the knees even when she wasn't standing and she wanted to make him feel more than welcome. But this was mature Buffy, who tackled problems head on.
"Is this still all about what happened in the bathroom?"
Spike flinched but made no attempt to move, still stretched out on the bed where she'd pulled him down, looking up at her and toying with the cuff of his sleeve as he answered.
"Promised I'd changed, wouldn't ever touch you when you didn't want..."
"Jeez, Spike. You were asleep and I was way over on your side of the bed. And I asked you to be here. Now I might not always be the most reasonable person in the world but you can't expect me to be that pissed at you."
"T'isn't that."
"No," Buffy sighed, ran a hand through sleep mussed hair. "You think you've damaged me. You keep expecting me to have a big freak-out every time you get too close."
"I think I might have put you off me," corrected Spike patiently. "Thought you wouldn't like waking up with my hands on you, and I don't blame you."
"Well I kinda did, actually." Suddenly he was laying far too close and the Slayer also picked a piece of material to hold her attention as she explained. "I was having a very pleasant dream and it was just... relaxing. You should know me well enough by now, when you're pissing me off I tend to let you know. And I wasn't afraid you wouldn't stop if I wanted you to, more worried about another round of metaphorical breast beating."
She eyed him sideways. Spike was still looking up at her, a little uncertainly, and she got the uneasy feeling he was waiting for his dismissal, or at least for her to tell him what he was expected to do next. It was power of the non-erotic kind, far too loaded with responsibility.
"I know you have all these tortured new William bits now and I don't really know you any more, maybe he had mopey depths and you're liking the self flagellation. But if you're feeling so bad cause you think you caused me harm, then you can stop now. Not one of my favourite memories, sure, but I don't have nightmares about you, Spike."
He made to interrupt but Buffy forged on.
"You don't scare me, or creep me out. I like you. And I'd like to find out who you are now, and there's got to be more than all this... jumpiness.
"It used to be so easy to see what you were thinking and now you've got this iron reserve thing going on because of something I'd hardly think about except you've got me on tenterhooks in case I accidentally set off your conscience. And you won't tell me what you're thinking, in case it's not what I want you to be thinking. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is? You did a bad thing, you're sorry, I forgive you, get over it. Truth is we both of us did worse last year, and should probably both suffer for it, but life goes on and we have a war to fight, they'll be plenty of suffering all round when that goes down-"
"And I'm distracting you from the killing by trying not to be evil?"
"Well at least you remember sarcasm."
The vampire rolled onto his back with a sigh. "I'm an all-round dickhead, Love. But humour me just a while longer, would you? What do you mean, I did worse?"
"Telling me I came back wrong, for one. Did more damage, caused more harm. And I didn't say you, Spike, I said we. I've never been your victim, have I? Hardly encouraged niceness. Beat you nearly to death for trying to help me, hated you for loving me. Was angry and bitter and downright horrible and I took most of it out on you, because I could. And I'm sorry too, really I am, but I'm trying to be a different person now and you've pretty much taken that idea to it's extreme already, so we can start over. If you want to."
"Well you're certainly a lot chattier than you used to be," said Spike, sounding just a little awed.
"Motivational Speeches are now my forte," Buffy mocked herself with a slight smile. "Did it work?"
"'Bout fifty-fifty, I'd say. I have an almost uncontrollable urge to apologise for being so bloody wet."
Buffy giggled, a hiccupping fit of laughter that had her sliding down the bed to lay beside him. "You'd better be joking," she choked.
"I'm joking," he confirmed quietly. "And I want to, start over that is. Been in my own little world of self-pity and you're right, it's pathetic. I want to be friends, more than anything, and I don't want to mess it up." His mouth quirked up into a mischievous smile. "So just to clarify, you're not mad at me?"
Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes, decided he might just be too much so early in the morning and pulled the duvet over her head.
"Yes I'm mad at you, you halfwit. You get me all aroused when I'm trying to be mature Buffy and not jump you when you're all vulnerable and confused. Then you make with the big scaredy runaway and I have to try and form sentences at seven o'clock in the morning and now you think it's funny. God you're so frustrating."
Spike lifted up the edge of the duvet and peered at her doubtfully. "Say that again."
"Uh... you're so frustrating?"
"Not that bit," he growled.
Buffy mentally processed her last few sentences. Hmmm, maybe some thoughts were best left in her head. Absolutely way too soon for any putting on of moves but how was she supposed to concentrate on what she was saying when he was so close on her bed, openly admiring now her skimpy satin nightgown. Not too late for a hasty back-pedal and a bit of misdirection which was always easier when Spike wasn't looking at her with those questioning blue eyes and had she really missed the way he'd looked right into her?
"I said vulnerable and confused," she snapped a little defensively. "I could have said miserable and annoying but this is mature Buffy, remember? And I'm above pointing out how very far up your own ass you've got since you got that soul."
Spike laughed with delight. "Missed you too, bitch. Does mature Buffy always hide under quilts?"
She yanked the bedding out of his hand and darkness returned. "Not hiding," her voice was muffled, "Attempting to recover my sanity. And looking at you makes my head hurt. Besides, if I meditate hard enough I'll realise you're just a necessary part of life's rich tapestry."
"And when did you get all one with the universe?"
"Right after you left, actually," came the muted reply. "Big epiphany, you should have been there. I'm not saying I'm issue free but I'm gonna get there, maybe just a few more decades of meditating."
Spike lifted the quilt again, smiling his amusement but his voice was soft and serious. "You forgive me?"
"Yes, you moron." A tiny hand snuck out to punch his shoulder. "I swear, Spike, mature Buffy's really losing her grip. Any second now I'm just gonna-"
"Jump me?" interjected the vampire, and that interested quirk of the eyebrow was pure old Spike.
It made Buffy shudder and forget she was sulking. "Maybe," she admitted, pulling the duvet down to hide lust fuelled Buffy. "Escape while you still can."
"Uh... Buffy Love? If you're relying on my self control, we're both fucked."
Buffy snorted. "You don't seem to be doing so bad, bleach boy. First Evil induced hysterics notwithstanding. You certainly- Oh my! What are you doing?"
Cold hand coasted over the satin of her nightie and Buffy tried not to gasp. Spike ducked all the way under the duvet to answer, staring down at her in the near darkness.
"Relieving your frustrations," he whispered, tugging at the hem of her slip. "Or losing control, not sure. Just seemed like a real good idea to touch you and you don't seem to be telling me any different."
Oh shit, she'd forgotten how to think.
Spike was pushing the silky material further up her thigh and he already knew she wasn't wearing underwear.
And Buffy'd used up her self restraint quota when she'd woken up and a few sleepy touches brought her so close. Was this too soon? Or was this what she'd been waiting for all along? Good thing or bad thing? She couldn't remember. Concentrated on the feel of Spike's hands as he pulled the nightie over her hips, knew he could see better in the dark than her.
"There's been no-one since me, has there? Can feel it, the tension in you. Tell me you aren't aching for a bit of touch?"
"Potentials!" Buffy groaned into the duvet.
"They're all underage, Love." He bowed his head to kiss her stomach, settling his weight between her legs.
"No... Me... God, Spike! You know I can't be quiet."
Spike stilled his movement, the hem of her gown taut across her nipples. "You want I should stop?"
What? She had to think more? When he was laying fully clothed against her near naked body and making her desperate for more touching.
"No, want you."
She reached to pull him up to her but Spike batted her hands away. "Cut that out. I've dreamed of touching you in this bed, intend to make the most of it. We're friends right?
Nothing's going to change that?"
The last words were said with a fierce intensity that almost wasn't a question but Buffy answered anyway, breathlessly.
"I'm much less of a bitch now, honestly. Perhaps we can get along."
Spike was touching her in earnest now, stirring sinfully good memories and brand new sensations.
"Nothing wrong with being a bitch, pet. Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?"
"You've been unusually restrained on the subject of late."
Hey look at that, her brain still worked. But not for much longer, if he carried on skirting her erogenous zones. The tension seemed to be building in Spike, too, there was a catch in his voice as he continued.
"And sexy and alive and kind and strong and gorgeous."
He pulled the nightie over her head and tossed it to the floor, throwing back the duvet in one smooth movement. "Wanna see you, Love. So beautiful... And you'll tell me if this is too much? If I go too far? What with you being naked and all I might not be thinking too clearly."
Buffy moaned encouragement, arched into his hand as he tugged at a nipple. "Nowhere near far enough... need more..."
"Good, cause I wasn't done. Love this gorgeous little body, that you're letting me touch you. Love you. Love that you can still laugh, love the way you care, even about me. Love the smell of your skin, so soft, the smell of your pretty little pussy. And did I mention you're looking better? Got some flesh over that muscle now, Pet, lovely round curves-”
"Spike?" Buffy interrupted, voice quivering.
"Yes Love?" He lifted his head to look at her, and for a long few seconds Buffy was captivated by those gorgeous, questioning blue eyes.
"When you're done listing my imaginary virtues, and telling me I'm fat, I can think of better uses for that mouth."
"Yes Love."
********
Buffy wasn't sure if she was coming down or coming to as she opened her eyes. Spike was hovering over her, blue eyes a little startled, looking like he wanted to smile but not quite sure if it was appropriate.
"You okay?"
He sounded like the whole world was balancing on her answer, when it was the silliest question possible. "No," Buffy whined with a teasing smile. "My knees don't work and I feel all dizzy. D'you think I might be coming down with something?"
The vampire gave her a patented Spike look, adoration and amusement all mixed in. Even fully clothed he was a gorgeous sight, muted morning light glinting through his hair, there weren't words to tell him.
"You look just fine to me. Very hot-"
"Would you kiss me already?"
He dipped his head to comply, slow languid kisses that felt they could go on forever.
Or until there was a bang at the door.
"Buffy! If you don't wake up and get your ass downstairs Vi and Rona are going to kill each other over a bowl of cereal!"
Spike rolled off her, hastily pulling the duvet up but the door stayed closed. Buffy gave a small whimper. "Can we hide? Hiding sounds good."
"Only if you think you can spare a potential or two."
Another whimper and an armful of naked Slayer snuggled against his chest like a little girl, leaving Spike torn between lust and manly pride.
Buffy tilted her head to pout at him, got distracted by cheekbones and a soft smile.
"Don't think I ever told you you're beautiful."
And she would have done earlier if she'd known he could smile like that. "Balls to the potentials. I wanna stay here and tell you that you're beautiful."
And kiss, she added mentally as he caught her mouth again, tongue probing gently and leaving her bereft as he pulled back.
"I love you. Now go battle evil. And have some breakfast."
Chapter Three
"Are you boinking her again?"
The question made Spike spit his coffee clean across the kitchen island. Could only have come from Dawn. Well maybe Anya, but that faintly accusatory tone, the teenage disdain, definitely his Niblet. And Anya had never deliberately timed her inappropriate questions with such embarrassing precision.
He'd been dreading this conversation, knew Dawn would have waited till he had no hope of rescue.
"Where did that come from?" he asked carefully, turning round to face her.
Dawn took a step closer, a predatory gleam in her eye. "You weren't anywhere to be found when I woke the potentials, yet here you are. D'you want me to repeat the question?"
God she'd grown up in his absence. Not just height wise, though she had a good inch on him now. He didn't know, any longer, how to talk to her
"There has been no boinking," he answered stiffly. "Not that I can see how it's any of your business, Bit."
"My business when you turn evil again and murder us all in our sleep."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Did I mention I'm now immune to guilt trips and emotional blackmail? You know that's never gonna happen, you're just being nosy."
Dawn hopped up on the kitchen counter with an unrepentant grin, immediately changing tack. "Duh! Teenager here. I have a God given right to stick my nose in anywhere it's not wanted. Especially when it's about my sister. So spill."
Spike tried to hide that deer in headlights feeling, knew it would only get worse if she scented blood.
"You've heard my thoughts on the subject many a time, pet. In my perfect world there'd be nothing but boinking. I suspect your sister has other priorities."
Time to divert with a serious question. "Would you mind?"
"I'd mind if you hurt her," answered Dawn promptly. "I'd threaten to stake you but I hear there's a waiting list for that privilege."
Well at least there was one thing he could say with certainty. "I wouldn't hurt her. Know you've heard it before but it's never going to happen again. Fucked up though it is you're my family, little as you might want me I'll never hurt either of you again."
"You don't know that."
Challenge or just cynicism?
"Damn well do. And you didn't answer my question."
Another shrug. "She got happier, after you left. It took a while but she got better."
The words stung and he knew they were meant to, but verbal dig out of the way she seemed to be seriously pondering the question.
"She missed you. You could tell cause she never mentioned you. She kept giving me all these feminist lectures about how no always means no and all men are idiots. When I asked about you she said, and I quote, 'it's complicated.' I want her to be happy, but it's still twisted, that she could want to be with you after what you did to her."
"Don't think she does, was hypothetical is all."
"In that case I don't mind a bit," said Dawn, with a not entirely kind smile. "You're way easier to get info out of than Buffy, anyway."
"Sorry Bit, you want gossip 'bout your sister you're gonna have to ask her."
"Yeah?" There was a threat in that short word. "So if you're not sticking it to her, why were you in her room? All night."
"You take that back," Spike sputtered, much to Dawn's amusement. "You can't say things like that, s'not right. Just kipped in there is all, she had a bad dream."
Dawn opened her mouth and Spike was truly afraid of what she might ask next, so he carried right on talking. "It's not like that, you dirty minded little tramp."
And it really hadn't been, but he was thinking of the morning after and the words didn't ring true. "S'all perfectly innocent, we're friends now and... Bloody hell! I'm playing right into your hands, aren't I?"
"Like a fly in a web."
He snorted. Outwitted by a chit of a girl who mixed her metaphors. "You're wasting your time. There isn't anything to find out, and I can't tell you what your sis is thinking cause I don't know. I'm never going to be the happy ending for Buffy, I know that, but I love her and that's never gonna change either, don't need to know all the answers just yet. Love you too, for what it's worth, know I made a lousy job of that as well."
"Too right. And don't think you're getting round me with big sad eyes, you're playing the master." But she very nearly smiled, and didn't try all that hard to hide it.
"I'm not playing. You ever gonna forgive me?"
"Not my place to," said Dawn flatly. "It's not like we're friends."
And on that petty note Dawn flounced out of the kitchen.
********
Buffy couldn't sleep.
She wasn't frustrated, absolutely not, but she'd half expected Spike to join her again tonight and when it became clear he wasn't going to she had to lie awake and wonder why not.
They'd been getting on well enough in the morning, hadn't they? After the obligatory angst and before they were interrupted, and it felt to Buffy that something had changed. Like they had unfinished business, but he didn't come.
Had he been waiting for an invitation? She'd hardly had time to gather her thoughts during the day.
Or a worse thought, was he waiting for her command?
Buffy tried to remember the exact details of their conversation, marathon in length by their standards. Seemed she'd talked an awful lot. Had she coaxed out a new, fun-having Spike?
Or given him to think she required his services?
It was almost unbearable to believe he'd touched her because it had been expected of him, because he thought that was why she wanted him around. But she'd hardly been guarded in her reactions to him, that was what she wanted and Spike had always been good at anticipating her needs.
But it wasn't enough that he would give Buffy what she wanted, she didn't know if she could reciprocate, especially when she didn't know what it was.
He'd kissed her and told her that he loved her, Spike had never lied about such things and it wasn't fair to doubt him now.
So Buffy lay in the dark and doubted herself.
She could ask him, if he was here, but then if he'd come they probably wouldn't be talking and that was her fault too. She'd pushed too fast and tempted him too soon and now he was probably avoiding her in case she was mad at him.
Why wasn't telepathy included in the inventory of slayer skills?
Maybe he was mad at her? Thought she was treating him as a convenience as she had done last year, and maybe he wasn't wrong.
If the apocalypse could hold off for a couple more weeks maybe they could find a minute to talk. She was getting better at the talking, and not just motivational speeches. Hell, it could be fun, gossiping and teasing like she'd done before she got so lost.
But it didn't seem fair to tease Spike when he was sensitive to her every word, she didn't know how to regain the easy bantering relationship they'd shared before the sex. She needed him to talk but didn't know how to ask the questions without also dictating the answers, if he knew what she wanted him to say then she couldn't trust he wasn't just saying what he thought she wanted to hear.
He'd said he still loved her and she had to trust that. Maybe it was unfair to expect him to share his thoughts when she'd shut him down so often in the past, and she'd pushed too hard already.
Maybe it was just her turn to lie awake and wonder what the hell was going on in his head.
Karmic retribution.
********
A strong hand diverted Spike's course to the basement door and he found himself facing Buffy in the hallway.
"What's up, Slayer? New instrument of the first? Andrew been cooking again?"
"No, nothing apocalyptical." Buffy hugged herself, glanced into the empty kitchen. "I just wanted to talk to you, you've been all avoidy."
"I've been busy," he corrected. "With fifteen adolescents you won't let me kill.."
Spike looked at her more closely. All the signs of trouble were there in her body language, arms wrapped round a nagging worry she didn't want to share. He sighed. "Out with it, Buffy."
"Out with what?"
"Oh don't give me that. I can read you like a book. Just don't know what bizarre idea you'll have got into your head to worry about today."
He half expected a standard denial, but instead Buffy laughed.
"I do not have bizarre ideas. I have legitimate concerns, even if I'm not sure what they are, and I like frequent reassurance. You may have noticed I don't have such a good affect on people I share a bed with."
Spike wished for the millionth time in their acquaintance that she was easier to read, for all his boasting the print was still a little fuzzy. Concerns in which direction? Was this the 'don't make too much of it' talk or the 'am I still beautiful?' question. Knowing his Slayer she could worry about both simultaneously, and a hundred and one other things besides.
"You had a good affect on me, used to be evil, remember?"
He reached out to tug a lock of her hair and she leaned into his touch with a smile. "That's an interesting way of looking at it. I don't remember it being that simple."
Spike pulled her into a hug. "It's simple now. I'm not brooding, I'm not plotting evil, I haven't gone off you and I don't want anything from you, does that cover everything? I'm here for whatever you need, pet, and nothing's going to change less you want it to." He rubbed her shoulder, trying to will her to relax. "Hate to think I'm another headache for you when you've got so much on your plate."
"You're not a headache! Hey, maybe I just needed a hug."
Was Spike's turn to laugh as she wrapped her arm round his waist and snuggled closer. "Talking and hugging? Who are you and what have you done with my Slayer?"
"Oi! Update, bleach boy, not me that's been making with the meaningful silence just recently. When you're not stammering."
"Oi yourself! That was last week. I'm back to being my loud, obnoxious self I promise."
Spike reached down to pinch her bum before making his escape to the cellar.
"You little..."
"Sorry love, can't stop," he called over his shoulder. "If I don't get back down there and supervise you're going to be down a pommel horse, so chill out, yeah?"
Spike paused and turned to wink at her from the safety of the cellar doorway. "Doesn't it make you scared when I'm the responsible adult?"
Chapter Four
When Willow timidly announced she'd be prepared to take the potentials on a Bronze shaped outing Spike could have kissed her. The suppressed pleasure on Buffy's face alone was worth a big fat snog.
And now after weeks of cramped chaos in every room the house was unnaturally quiet. Dawn had elected for mysterious teenage rituals in the usually busy bathroom, Xander was playing sheepdog to Willow's guardian angel and Buffy had eschewed Giles and the auxiliary Scoobies in the living room in favour of a little alone time.
Spike found her on the porch, staring at her hands and looking a million miles away.
"You worrying about the upcoming apocalypse or the hormone bomb out on the town?"
Buffy turned to give him a distracted smile as he settled on the steps beside her.
"You, actually."
"Thought we agreed you don't need to worry about me?"
"I'm not worrying, per se. Just thinking about last year. I've got the night off, why shouldn't I think? And I should. Those who fail to learn the lessons of history, etc etc."
Despite his better intentions Spike bristled a little. "There will be no repeat of last year," he stated. "I'm different, Buffy."
"But am I?"
The question caught him by surprise.
Spike could hardly remember the pale, miserable shadow of last year, eclipsed by this vibrant new girl. No, woman.
"Brooks no comparison, love. Less of a bitch, to use your words. Happier, I'd say, feeling better about yourself. And it's good to see."
Buffy laughed, eyes dancing as she glanced at him sideways. "Oh you, you always make me feel better. I wouldn't have survived last year without you."
"Worked out nicely, then." The vampire was doing an internal Snoopy dance at her casual admission, so glad she could laugh with him now. "So why all the thinking?"
"You really have problems with that concept, don't you?" Another laugh, teasing now. "Buffy thinking, the last sign of an apocalypse."
"I've learnt to be cautious. No telling what might be going on in your head and sometimes you overestimate my powers of clairvoyance."
"It's just... I'm happier now, like you say. And I'm happy you're... well whoever you are now. I shouldn't want..."
She lowered her voice, as if making a great confession, and looked down at her shoes. "I miss it sometimes, last year. Not the feeling shitty all the time but... sometimes... Oh crap, I dig at you for the stammering and now I can't finish a sentence."
If Spike had learned one thing from her it was a little patience, so he waited silently for her to gather her thoughts.
"I'm just so screwed up," sighed Buffy eventually. "Really was all badness last year and I wasn't myself. But now, I should know better, but sometimes I remember... You know what? I think my subconscious hates me. It's evil and must be killed."
"Might get a bit messy, that."
"Full frontal lobotomy ought to do it. Ever considered trepanning?"
Spike dared a grin, but it was obvious under the joking something was nagging at her and she didn't know how to get it out.
"Everyone's fucked up, you do know that? One way or another, Slayer, everyone's confused."
"Tell that to Doctor Phil. My dreams would make his eyes pop out."
Spike couldn't help laughing now. "Sometimes, Buffy love, I don't know if you're pondering the philosophical terrors of life or worrying about a yen for rough sex."
At her guilty start he chuckled again. "Ooh, has the Slayer been having naughty thoughts?"
Buffy glared out of habit, then added a nod.
"You're a daft old bird sometimes, no point worrying about what gets you hot, is there? No-one expects you to be Julie Andrews in the privacy of your own mind."
"I left nun-like a way back, you've still got the scars."
"Wear 'em like trophies," he scoffed. "Never did anything to me I wouldn't have begged you to. You know what was wrong with last year, Slayer? Not with me, I was an arsehole and I'm working on that. But why you were so unhappy?"
"Cause I'm a sick little puppy who can't tell the difference between fighting and fucking?"
"Cause. You. Beat. Yourself. Up. You've got all the time in the world for me, and Willow, and Angel, though none of us deserve to be forgiven, but for yourself you set impossible targets of perfection."
Buffy shook her head. "I'm far from perfect. And I hurt you, whatever you might say. Don't want to do that again. Don't want to be that person again. But sometimes I see you and I do, want to do it all again."
Hmm. Spike took a moment to digest that. Seemed like anything he could say would sound like a come-on, and perhaps it wasn't a good moment to point out he wouldn't mind. "If me being around's making you... unsettled, I can buzz off. Just say the word."
"No!" Buffy elbowed him soundly and continued with some asperity. "If you're going to get all melodramatic again I'm reconsidering this conversation bullshit. I was just thinking, I do that sometimes, I'm told it's healthy. There's no big drama, just who I am, I like to understand stuff and sometimes it takes me a lot of working out."
She shot him a look that was almost pleading. "It's hard enough to share my thoughts. And I have abandonment issues, you keep offering to go away and I'm gonna think you want to."
Spike bumped her shoulder affectionately. "Now who's being melodramatic? You'd have to throw me out, we both know it."
Maybe it took a bit of getting used to, being friends, he was still adjusting to mature Buffy, who worked through issues and didn't let her problems overwhelm her. And maybe not everything could be glossed over with a new start, but God he felt close, sitting here sharing her thoughts.
Spike put his arm around her and Buffy laid her head on his shoulder.
"You're a good person, love. Seen the best and the worst of you and I should know. There's nothing wrong with what we did."
Buffy snorted. "The other day or last year?"
"Either. Both. But I was talking about last year. It's connected in your head, the sex and the misery, but if you'd done those things with someone you loved, or just for fun..."
Buffy straightened up to give him her full attention and Spike suddenly found he was getting a little tongue tied himself. "We were bad for each other, but that wasn't the sex. S'not dirty... what consenting adults do in bed... whatever the hell gets you wet, it's not wrong... S'awkward, this talking stuff, ain't it?"
Buffy seemed torn between blushing and smirking, went with both. "You were very good at the sex." She patted his knee, mostly teasing. "So wasn't the problem."
"Thank you," he growled sarcastically. "But I don't actually have performance anxiety and I was talking about you. Using sex to punish yourself, that's twisted. Doing something that makes you miserable. Being ashamed, that's what's fucked up."
"I wasn't ashamed of you," answered Buffy softly. "Just what I made you do."
"You didn't make me do anything!"
"Not made, then, encouraged. Wanted you to take me, and hurt me, taught you that when I said no, I meant make me..."
Buffy trailed off, Spike was staring at her in a way that made her almost afraid.
"If this is going where I think it's going, you can just shut your fucking mouth, young lady."
She gaped at him in amazement.
"You want to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, fine. But you can't take responsibility for what I did, what anyone does, understand?"
She shook her head. "I wasn't going there. But you did a bad thing and you're sorry, and you changed. Me, I did lots of bad things, and I want to do them again."
"Really?" Spike drawled into her ear, low and seductive. "Like what?"
"It's not funny!"
"Bloody well is. What, exactly, is it you want to do that's so bad? Phone your dad, ask if your mum only ever fancied the missionary."
He rode right through Buffy's scandalized gasp, warming to his subject. "Do you know Willow and Tara kept a strap on under the bed? Size of it made me envious. Giles has a stash of specialist magazines that are illegal in California. Hell, even Niblet-"
"Stop right there!" Buffy squeaked. "I never want to know the end of that sentence."
But Spike wasn't to be stopped.
"Giles and your Mum did it on the bonnet of a police car, just for the thrill of maybe being caught."
"They were under a spell!"
"To make them feel young. You're already young. You're allowed to be irresponsible, expected to make the occasional bad choice, and you're supposed to cut loose and have a little fun. If your idea of fun leaves bruises, well that's between you and whoever you're having fun with. Believe me, there's no higher power that cares if you like a bit of S&M. Come to England, it's virtually a way of life. Hell, go to Germany, see what they sell on the high streets and then tell me you're peculiar.
"S'got nothing to do with being the Slayer, not really, 'cept you can give more and take more. And sure you have to be careful cause you can hurt where another girl wouldn't leave a mark, but all men live with that. You shouldn't ever be ashamed of what you want, everyone's got their own dirty secret, nine times out of ten it's the ones who bottle it up who turn out to be a menace to society. It can only be wrong if you're willing to hurt people to get what you want and I know you better than that.
"I knew you didn't want me and I tried to take you anyway and nothing you did can excuse that. Nothing you did should be compared 'cause I always wanted you, enjoyed every second and you know it, only hurt when you didn't want me and that's not your fault, just the way of the world. You're just... normal. If you'd ever had a chance to leave this suburban hell hole and see a bit of real life you'd have found all this out for yourself. You're never alone, s'why talking so important. And I've been doing that a while, shutting up now.
"Your mouth is open, by the way."
Buffy closed her jaws with a snap that echoed round the now silent garden.
"Pervert," she said eventually.
"Necrophiliac," he shot back.
Buffy laughed, she couldn't help it. "Got me there. You realise we've been talking about sex for, like, ten minutes and you haven't hit on me once? What's up with that?"
Spike eyed her warily, be easier if she told him what the right answer was before asking questions like that. "It's not a trick question," she added, with unnerving perception. "I'm just wondering."
"Didn't think you'd want me to."
"Were you having a different conversation to the one I was having?"
He cocked his head on one side, regarded her thoughtfully. "What does that mean, Buffy?"
The Slayer wriggled a little, caught in his piercing gaze. "That sounds like a serious question. I'm kinda all serioused out, you mentioned something about fun?"
"Um I did?" Spike stalled, tried to recall the exact words of his impassioned rant. "And serioused? Can't let that one go."
Buffy met his eye, and he could see she was trying not to smile at his uncertainty. "Not S&M fun, just cutting loose. What do young people do? And it's so very sad I have to ask that question."
"Drink lots and listen to really bad music," answered Spike promptly. "Then gyrate around in a ridiculous parody of dancing until they're sick on their ridiculously expensive shoes."
"Hmm. Think I've passed young. What do slightly older people do?"
"Better music, less vomiting."
"Right." Buffy used Spike's shoulder to lever herself to her feet and dusted down her jeans. "Give me a couple of hours to get Dawn out of the bathroom. If you would like, that is."
Spike shrugged, tried very hard to stay casual. "Would have gone with the S&M myself, but I'll deal."
********
When Buffy reappeared a mere 45 minutes later it was with a much made up Dawn, towering over her sister in a pair of borrowed heels.
Off Spike's look the Slayer shrugged and explained.
"We're gonna sneak her into the new bar down town, really living dangerously tonight. Anya's going to join us when she's done in the shower. I told Andrew he couldn't come, just to prove I'm still sane."
Spike fought down uncharitable disappointment that he wasn't getting her all to himself, and gave Dawn his best evil grin. "Come on, then, let's go and corrupt the minor."
And it was impossible to feel hard done by as she took his arm walking down the front path, done up to the nines and positively glowing. And relaxed, for all that she was still Buffy and still had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was carrying it better.
"If you two are gonna make with the PDA's I'm calling social services," said Dawn tartly.
Buffy laughed, leaned into Spike with a suggestiveness purely for show as she turned round to answer. The vampire shivered against her, hard in seconds.
"You just wait, missy. I'm gonna dance, embarrassingly and enthusiastically. Then I'm gonna get drunk and tell all your potential dates cutsie baby stories. Then I'm gonna let Spike threaten to rip their arms off and you're gonna wish I was just snogging him in a corner somewhere."
"Snogging? God! Buffy, you need therapy."
But the Slayer just laughed again. "This is therapy. Grown-up, alcoholic, dancing therapy. You wanted to come."
"Fine," Dawn snapped, marching past Spike and Buffy with a disdainful toss of her head. "But you'd better be sharing that alcohol. Passing out sounds good right about now."
Buffy followed, tugging a dazed Spike in her wake.
Snogging? Suddenly Spike was convinced this was a really bad idea. If one casual touch and the merest suggestion of a kiss left his thought process in tatters, how the hell was he to survive watching her dance?
"PDA's?" he asked quietly.
"Public displays of affection."
"Like... holding hands?" Spike suggested.
To be continued....
And can I make a request? If you feel moved to comment, say something mean. Everyone's been really nice, maybe it's an American thing, and it's toe curlingly good to read that people have enjoyed my fiction enough to comment and say so. But without critisism my learning curve is going to be a horizontal line.
Chapter One
Spike balanced himself on the awning outside the Slayer's window and listened to her dream. The tiny whimpers told him it was a bad one but there were no words, nothing to indicate which of the troubles in her life was giving her nightmares at the moment. He hesitated on the window ledge, unwilling to enter uninvited. She may have been spirited in her defence of him the day before but Spike was afraid of her reaction if she woke to find him in her room.
But a second anguished sob broke his resolve and a moment later he was kneeling beside the bed, gently shaking Buffy's shoulder.
"Spike, no!" she screamed, jerking bolt upright.
Ah, that dream. Spike blanched and was already backing away, hands up in denial, as she opened her eyes.
Buffy had seemed perfectly relaxed in his company during the day, no longer skittish as he'd put it. Had requested his presence, more than once, and he'd allowed himself to hope that she was starting to forget how he'd hurt her, now he'd have to chalk that down to Buffy's amazing fortitude and dedication to the mission.
That was his girl alright, gold medal in bottling things up. Too focused on her duty to bother with hysterics, and too compassionate to hate him like she must want to. These last few weeks he thought he'd been helping, she'd asked him to stay; maybe she just knew how much he needed to feel needed.
And it left Spike in a bit of a dilemma. To flee now would be cowardly and downright strange, but he was well aware he was the last person she would want to see right now.
********
Buffy swam into consciousness to find she was already sitting up. She blinked owlishly at Spike who looked like small child caught at a bad thing, backing towards the bedroom window in nervous dismay.
"Sorry L... Slayer, didn't mean to intrude. You were... I mean... I'll be off."
Buffy ran a tired hand through her hair. "S'okay. Stay a minute. I was having a really horrible dream."
"Yeah, I heard." Spike shook his head, half to himself, refusing to meet her eye. "Can't be nice waking up to find me here, I'll get out of your hair." He dared a glance up. "I am so sorry, Slayer."
"Kind of got used to you calling me Buffy," she remarked absently, rubbing her eyes again and trying to shake off that nightmare feeling of dread. She eyed Spike narrowly. "It's not so much better waking up in a cold sweat on your own, no need to be sorry."
"Meant about giving you nightmares in the first place. And you can't want me here, do understand that."
"You'd think you'd have learnt your lesson, assuming you know what I want."
Spike visibly flinched, frozen halfway between the bed and the window. And where the hell had self-pitying Spike returned from when they were getting along so nicely?
Comprehension dawned, only one thing could make Spike brood.
"Wasn't that kind of dream," she spoke softly, "And I didn't mean it like that."
Buffy wanted to say more, cause it was unnatural seeing Spike so dejected, but she didn't want to think about her dream and was too tired to find the words.
"Wasn't the other kind," said Spike dryly, not approaching the bed. "They smell nicer. And you said my name, screamed my name. Again, not in a good way." His eyes were sympathetic as much as pained, no melodrama here, just regret.
Maybe Buffy could learn to appreciate the new Spike, if only he would stop moping. But right now she was missing the classic version, especially the way he told her everything in a stream of consciousness rant that left her in no doubt what he was thinking. God he could be exhausting, but she had less than no idea of what to do with penitent Spike.
"Wasn't that kind of dream," Buffy repeated. "Only a nightmare of the standard 'we're all going to die' variety. Everyone was dead." She shuddered despite herself, trying to erase the mental image of her slain friends.
"I killed them?"
"Hell no!" Buffy exclaimed with genuine exasperation. "There really is just the one lonely track in your mind, isn't there? And I really think I preferred it when the train was going in the other direction. Was a time when if I'd said your name in my sleep you'd never let me forget it, now you get all offended."
"I'm not-" for a second there was a glimpse of the old Spike, quickly reined in. Buffy decided to poke a little more.
"You know, you're starting to sound entirely too much like another vampire of my acquaintance."
"So what were you telling me not to do?"
The question was mildly spoken but the fear in his voice gave him away, he was plainly sure his original assumption was correct.
"You don't have to spare my feelings," he continued when she didn't answer. "I deserve it, we both know it, but you don't and I'm so-"
"Disintegrate," interrupted Buffy, unable to stand any more.
"Huh?"
If a reference to Angel wasn't enough to distract him she'd just have to steel herself and find the words. "The Uber-vamp killed everybody. You remember, the evil baddies that I'm actually worried about? I was going to kill the Uber-vamp when you just appeared, like apparated. Now I think about it, was probably my subconscious noticing you in the room. Like when your alarm goes off and your dream suddenly gets real noisy? Or if you get cramp in the night and dream something's biting your leg. Do vampires get cramp?"
Turned out her subconscious really didn't want to talk about her dream, either. She noticed
Spike's raised eyebrow. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"
"Yeah," agreed Spike fondly. "But I'm making a tit of myself so you're one up."
Buffy returned his grin but still felt a little uneasy, dreams for her too often portents. And she wanted to make sure he understood.
"I staked you," she confessed. "I was going for the Uber-vamp and I couldn't stop and you dusted. Really wasn't a good dream. But it was kind of nice that you were here when I woke up. And by the way? I think you've apologised enough for your entire existence, and if you don't cut it out you're going to end up with a deficit of evil deeds to catch up on."
And there was a real smile, the one he seemed to save specially for her.
"'Kay Love." His eyes held oceans of feeling but all he said was; "I'll take my self absorbed arse out of here and let you get some sleep."
Buffy pouted and wriggled over to the far side of the bed. "Stay. You can protect me from the nasty nightmares."
She guiltily enjoyed watching Spike's face try to decide on an expression. Surprise, pleasure, doubt, more guilt, and oh look, lust. But Buffy almost wished she hadn't spoken as he seemed to settle on embarrassment and toed at her carpet as he answered.
"Mighty kind of you Love. But I think I'm safest in the basement."
Buffy shrugged and burrowed herself under the covers. Well damn him too, not like she was going to jump him and they really did have an overcrowding problem.
"Suit yourself. But you'll be sharing with two new potentials and frankly I snore less."
Spike narrowed his eyes. "More girls?"
"'Fraid so. Giles got back after you went to patrol." Buffy folded back a corner of the duvet and patted the bed invitingly. "You are welcome, Spike, though it's okay if you'd rather not."
"Oh I'd rather." He stared at her a long moment before seeming to come to a decision, strode swiftly across the room and sat down on the bed. His movements were brusque and defensive as he unlaced his boots. "One more teenager and I might have had a relapse."
He suddenly turned and frowned anxiously. "I'm kidding, you know that, right?"
Buffy offered him a sleepy smile. "You're such an idiot, sometimes. I thought we were friends now?"
The absurdly pleased smile he gave her in return made Buffy feel indefinably guilty as he shrugged off his duster and got into bed fully clothed. Impulsively she snuggled against his chest.
Spike hesitated a second then put his arm round her shoulder and lightly kissed her hair.
"So we're friends now?"
A flash of panic but it didn't sound like a loaded question, just hopeful.
"Yes," she answered firmly.
"We're gonna win, Buffy Love. You're gonna give the source of all evil a darned good talking to and break all its evil toys and I'll have your back, the whole time, you know that?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Cause you deserve to have nice dreams about puppies and boybands and such."
Buffy laughed. Tried to imagine a dream where she slaughtered evil boybands but was just too tired. And this was just so... nice. Could dream about fluffy bunnies every night, sleeping like this, held and soothed and protected.
Why did her life have to be so complicated?
"Night Spike."
"Goodnight Buffy."
********
Spike listened as her breathing deepened and her heart rate slowed, wished he could pinpoint and preserve the precise moment of her falling asleep in his arms. When he was sure she was under he planted another soft kiss on her forehead.
"Love you, Buffy."
"Love you too," she muttered against his chest.
Spike smiled. It may not be him she was dreaming of this time, but it was enough that he'd stopped the nightmares.
Chapter Two
Buffy woke to familiar and long missed sensations. Cool hard muscle against her back, the heel of a hand lightly resting on the curls between her legs, fingers gently stroking the inside of her thigh starting a delicious tension in her body.
Sleepily she sensed as much as remembered Spike. She could feel him curled around her, face buried in the curve of her shoulder, denim clothed erection hard against her backside. From the aimless smoothing of his fingers and the stillness of his ever busy mouth Buffy guessed he was still asleep and took a moment to enjoy his gentle touch. Arousing and yet she felt tranquil; it was hard not to imagine what might have been.
And those fingers, making her moist even in sleep from sheer memory of what they could do. Unconsciously Buffy arched back against Spike, who moaned into her neck and pulled her tighter.
"Spike?" she asked softly.
"Mmmm," He shifted against her, fingers moving confidently to her slit. Found her pleasure spot, moving in rhythm with her breathing, and Buffy felt herself quickly getting to a place where control wasn't.
"Spike?" she repeated a little louder, reluctant to move in case she caused a... reaction. "You awake?"
"Buffy..." he breathed reverently into her hair, nuzzling closer to inhale the scent of her skin. Then froze. "Buffy?"
There was a very long silence as neither so much as twitched. Eventually the tension got to the Slayer.
"Would you move, one way or the other, the suspense is killing me."
And move he did, getting tangled in the bedding in his haste to be away from her. "I am so very sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to... I'm so... Shit!"
Buffy snagged his T-shirt and unceremoniously yanked him back down on the bed. Half wanted to knock a little confidence back into him but he looked so very guilty she didn't have the heart.
God she was sick of guilty Spike. 120 years of killing people and she just knew all that guilt was tied up to five minutes in her bathroom.
"I thought we agreed you needed to go cold turkey on the apologising?"
"Yeah. I'm..." Spike caught himself and managed a wry chuckle. "I'm guessing saying sorry for apologising is going to get me a slap?"
"At the very least," said Buffy firmly, leaning back against the headboard. She was still feeling illicit tingles, but now was definitely time for mature Buffy, not the nympho ho-biscuit version. So she tried to put lustful memories out of her mind and concentrate on this new man before her.
He looked much the same, black uniform and radioactive hair still screaming big bad but the body language no longer matched; still and supplicating instead of confident and graceful. Underneath she was certain she could see much of the old Spike, not in the wishful way she'd tried to trace Angel's likeness in Angelus' mocking features, but the traces of wit and perception that leaked through his new demeanour.
In the few weeks he'd been relatively sane they'd had one crisis, and potential, after another to deal with.
It had been easy to think of Spike in the context of a problem to be solved, a hostage to be rescued, another body to find space for in her ridiculously crowded house. And another strain on the tense relationship between the Slayer and her former mentor.
She'd not had to consider Spike the person when she'd decided to have the chip removed. Repair would have meant further contact with the Initiative, one way or another, and he'd earned the benefit of the doubt. Now he had a soul he fell into the category of people to be rescued, rather than disposed of, a Scooby of sorts and under the Slayer's protection.
There'd been no shortage of high drama, but none of it really helped her figure out who he was.
"So you gonna talk to me, or just leave in a really awkward silence? And before you say it, I'm aware of the irony."
Spike gave her a smile that turned tingles into something warmer. "You're a fucking lovely woman, you know that?"
He ducked his head bashfully and Buffy found herself blushing right along with him, took his hand as he continued. "You should hate me. What I did to you was unforgivable. But you make me welcome. Can't tell you, Love, what it means to me."
A girl could lose herself in that voice. Not the same rough drawl that whispered unspeakable things in her ear, but an old Spike voice just the same. Full of wonder and love, exuding feeling. Had the same effect too, make her feel weak at the knees even when she wasn't standing and she wanted to make him feel more than welcome. But this was mature Buffy, who tackled problems head on.
"Is this still all about what happened in the bathroom?"
Spike flinched but made no attempt to move, still stretched out on the bed where she'd pulled him down, looking up at her and toying with the cuff of his sleeve as he answered.
"Promised I'd changed, wouldn't ever touch you when you didn't want..."
"Jeez, Spike. You were asleep and I was way over on your side of the bed. And I asked you to be here. Now I might not always be the most reasonable person in the world but you can't expect me to be that pissed at you."
"T'isn't that."
"No," Buffy sighed, ran a hand through sleep mussed hair. "You think you've damaged me. You keep expecting me to have a big freak-out every time you get too close."
"I think I might have put you off me," corrected Spike patiently. "Thought you wouldn't like waking up with my hands on you, and I don't blame you."
"Well I kinda did, actually." Suddenly he was laying far too close and the Slayer also picked a piece of material to hold her attention as she explained. "I was having a very pleasant dream and it was just... relaxing. You should know me well enough by now, when you're pissing me off I tend to let you know. And I wasn't afraid you wouldn't stop if I wanted you to, more worried about another round of metaphorical breast beating."
She eyed him sideways. Spike was still looking up at her, a little uncertainly, and she got the uneasy feeling he was waiting for his dismissal, or at least for her to tell him what he was expected to do next. It was power of the non-erotic kind, far too loaded with responsibility.
"I know you have all these tortured new William bits now and I don't really know you any more, maybe he had mopey depths and you're liking the self flagellation. But if you're feeling so bad cause you think you caused me harm, then you can stop now. Not one of my favourite memories, sure, but I don't have nightmares about you, Spike."
He made to interrupt but Buffy forged on.
"You don't scare me, or creep me out. I like you. And I'd like to find out who you are now, and there's got to be more than all this... jumpiness.
"It used to be so easy to see what you were thinking and now you've got this iron reserve thing going on because of something I'd hardly think about except you've got me on tenterhooks in case I accidentally set off your conscience. And you won't tell me what you're thinking, in case it's not what I want you to be thinking. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is? You did a bad thing, you're sorry, I forgive you, get over it. Truth is we both of us did worse last year, and should probably both suffer for it, but life goes on and we have a war to fight, they'll be plenty of suffering all round when that goes down-"
"And I'm distracting you from the killing by trying not to be evil?"
"Well at least you remember sarcasm."
The vampire rolled onto his back with a sigh. "I'm an all-round dickhead, Love. But humour me just a while longer, would you? What do you mean, I did worse?"
"Telling me I came back wrong, for one. Did more damage, caused more harm. And I didn't say you, Spike, I said we. I've never been your victim, have I? Hardly encouraged niceness. Beat you nearly to death for trying to help me, hated you for loving me. Was angry and bitter and downright horrible and I took most of it out on you, because I could. And I'm sorry too, really I am, but I'm trying to be a different person now and you've pretty much taken that idea to it's extreme already, so we can start over. If you want to."
"Well you're certainly a lot chattier than you used to be," said Spike, sounding just a little awed.
"Motivational Speeches are now my forte," Buffy mocked herself with a slight smile. "Did it work?"
"'Bout fifty-fifty, I'd say. I have an almost uncontrollable urge to apologise for being so bloody wet."
Buffy giggled, a hiccupping fit of laughter that had her sliding down the bed to lay beside him. "You'd better be joking," she choked.
"I'm joking," he confirmed quietly. "And I want to, start over that is. Been in my own little world of self-pity and you're right, it's pathetic. I want to be friends, more than anything, and I don't want to mess it up." His mouth quirked up into a mischievous smile. "So just to clarify, you're not mad at me?"
Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes, decided he might just be too much so early in the morning and pulled the duvet over her head.
"Yes I'm mad at you, you halfwit. You get me all aroused when I'm trying to be mature Buffy and not jump you when you're all vulnerable and confused. Then you make with the big scaredy runaway and I have to try and form sentences at seven o'clock in the morning and now you think it's funny. God you're so frustrating."
Spike lifted up the edge of the duvet and peered at her doubtfully. "Say that again."
"Uh... you're so frustrating?"
"Not that bit," he growled.
Buffy mentally processed her last few sentences. Hmmm, maybe some thoughts were best left in her head. Absolutely way too soon for any putting on of moves but how was she supposed to concentrate on what she was saying when he was so close on her bed, openly admiring now her skimpy satin nightgown. Not too late for a hasty back-pedal and a bit of misdirection which was always easier when Spike wasn't looking at her with those questioning blue eyes and had she really missed the way he'd looked right into her?
"I said vulnerable and confused," she snapped a little defensively. "I could have said miserable and annoying but this is mature Buffy, remember? And I'm above pointing out how very far up your own ass you've got since you got that soul."
Spike laughed with delight. "Missed you too, bitch. Does mature Buffy always hide under quilts?"
She yanked the bedding out of his hand and darkness returned. "Not hiding," her voice was muffled, "Attempting to recover my sanity. And looking at you makes my head hurt. Besides, if I meditate hard enough I'll realise you're just a necessary part of life's rich tapestry."
"And when did you get all one with the universe?"
"Right after you left, actually," came the muted reply. "Big epiphany, you should have been there. I'm not saying I'm issue free but I'm gonna get there, maybe just a few more decades of meditating."
Spike lifted the quilt again, smiling his amusement but his voice was soft and serious. "You forgive me?"
"Yes, you moron." A tiny hand snuck out to punch his shoulder. "I swear, Spike, mature Buffy's really losing her grip. Any second now I'm just gonna-"
"Jump me?" interjected the vampire, and that interested quirk of the eyebrow was pure old Spike.
It made Buffy shudder and forget she was sulking. "Maybe," she admitted, pulling the duvet down to hide lust fuelled Buffy. "Escape while you still can."
"Uh... Buffy Love? If you're relying on my self control, we're both fucked."
Buffy snorted. "You don't seem to be doing so bad, bleach boy. First Evil induced hysterics notwithstanding. You certainly- Oh my! What are you doing?"
Cold hand coasted over the satin of her nightie and Buffy tried not to gasp. Spike ducked all the way under the duvet to answer, staring down at her in the near darkness.
"Relieving your frustrations," he whispered, tugging at the hem of her slip. "Or losing control, not sure. Just seemed like a real good idea to touch you and you don't seem to be telling me any different."
Oh shit, she'd forgotten how to think.
Spike was pushing the silky material further up her thigh and he already knew she wasn't wearing underwear.
And Buffy'd used up her self restraint quota when she'd woken up and a few sleepy touches brought her so close. Was this too soon? Or was this what she'd been waiting for all along? Good thing or bad thing? She couldn't remember. Concentrated on the feel of Spike's hands as he pulled the nightie over her hips, knew he could see better in the dark than her.
"There's been no-one since me, has there? Can feel it, the tension in you. Tell me you aren't aching for a bit of touch?"
"Potentials!" Buffy groaned into the duvet.
"They're all underage, Love." He bowed his head to kiss her stomach, settling his weight between her legs.
"No... Me... God, Spike! You know I can't be quiet."
Spike stilled his movement, the hem of her gown taut across her nipples. "You want I should stop?"
What? She had to think more? When he was laying fully clothed against her near naked body and making her desperate for more touching.
"No, want you."
She reached to pull him up to her but Spike batted her hands away. "Cut that out. I've dreamed of touching you in this bed, intend to make the most of it. We're friends right?
Nothing's going to change that?"
The last words were said with a fierce intensity that almost wasn't a question but Buffy answered anyway, breathlessly.
"I'm much less of a bitch now, honestly. Perhaps we can get along."
Spike was touching her in earnest now, stirring sinfully good memories and brand new sensations.
"Nothing wrong with being a bitch, pet. Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?"
"You've been unusually restrained on the subject of late."
Hey look at that, her brain still worked. But not for much longer, if he carried on skirting her erogenous zones. The tension seemed to be building in Spike, too, there was a catch in his voice as he continued.
"And sexy and alive and kind and strong and gorgeous."
He pulled the nightie over her head and tossed it to the floor, throwing back the duvet in one smooth movement. "Wanna see you, Love. So beautiful... And you'll tell me if this is too much? If I go too far? What with you being naked and all I might not be thinking too clearly."
Buffy moaned encouragement, arched into his hand as he tugged at a nipple. "Nowhere near far enough... need more..."
"Good, cause I wasn't done. Love this gorgeous little body, that you're letting me touch you. Love you. Love that you can still laugh, love the way you care, even about me. Love the smell of your skin, so soft, the smell of your pretty little pussy. And did I mention you're looking better? Got some flesh over that muscle now, Pet, lovely round curves-”
"Spike?" Buffy interrupted, voice quivering.
"Yes Love?" He lifted his head to look at her, and for a long few seconds Buffy was captivated by those gorgeous, questioning blue eyes.
"When you're done listing my imaginary virtues, and telling me I'm fat, I can think of better uses for that mouth."
"Yes Love."
********
Buffy wasn't sure if she was coming down or coming to as she opened her eyes. Spike was hovering over her, blue eyes a little startled, looking like he wanted to smile but not quite sure if it was appropriate.
"You okay?"
He sounded like the whole world was balancing on her answer, when it was the silliest question possible. "No," Buffy whined with a teasing smile. "My knees don't work and I feel all dizzy. D'you think I might be coming down with something?"
The vampire gave her a patented Spike look, adoration and amusement all mixed in. Even fully clothed he was a gorgeous sight, muted morning light glinting through his hair, there weren't words to tell him.
"You look just fine to me. Very hot-"
"Would you kiss me already?"
He dipped his head to comply, slow languid kisses that felt they could go on forever.
Or until there was a bang at the door.
"Buffy! If you don't wake up and get your ass downstairs Vi and Rona are going to kill each other over a bowl of cereal!"
Spike rolled off her, hastily pulling the duvet up but the door stayed closed. Buffy gave a small whimper. "Can we hide? Hiding sounds good."
"Only if you think you can spare a potential or two."
Another whimper and an armful of naked Slayer snuggled against his chest like a little girl, leaving Spike torn between lust and manly pride.
Buffy tilted her head to pout at him, got distracted by cheekbones and a soft smile.
"Don't think I ever told you you're beautiful."
And she would have done earlier if she'd known he could smile like that. "Balls to the potentials. I wanna stay here and tell you that you're beautiful."
And kiss, she added mentally as he caught her mouth again, tongue probing gently and leaving her bereft as he pulled back.
"I love you. Now go battle evil. And have some breakfast."
Chapter Three
"Are you boinking her again?"
The question made Spike spit his coffee clean across the kitchen island. Could only have come from Dawn. Well maybe Anya, but that faintly accusatory tone, the teenage disdain, definitely his Niblet. And Anya had never deliberately timed her inappropriate questions with such embarrassing precision.
He'd been dreading this conversation, knew Dawn would have waited till he had no hope of rescue.
"Where did that come from?" he asked carefully, turning round to face her.
Dawn took a step closer, a predatory gleam in her eye. "You weren't anywhere to be found when I woke the potentials, yet here you are. D'you want me to repeat the question?"
God she'd grown up in his absence. Not just height wise, though she had a good inch on him now. He didn't know, any longer, how to talk to her
"There has been no boinking," he answered stiffly. "Not that I can see how it's any of your business, Bit."
"My business when you turn evil again and murder us all in our sleep."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Did I mention I'm now immune to guilt trips and emotional blackmail? You know that's never gonna happen, you're just being nosy."
Dawn hopped up on the kitchen counter with an unrepentant grin, immediately changing tack. "Duh! Teenager here. I have a God given right to stick my nose in anywhere it's not wanted. Especially when it's about my sister. So spill."
Spike tried to hide that deer in headlights feeling, knew it would only get worse if she scented blood.
"You've heard my thoughts on the subject many a time, pet. In my perfect world there'd be nothing but boinking. I suspect your sister has other priorities."
Time to divert with a serious question. "Would you mind?"
"I'd mind if you hurt her," answered Dawn promptly. "I'd threaten to stake you but I hear there's a waiting list for that privilege."
Well at least there was one thing he could say with certainty. "I wouldn't hurt her. Know you've heard it before but it's never going to happen again. Fucked up though it is you're my family, little as you might want me I'll never hurt either of you again."
"You don't know that."
Challenge or just cynicism?
"Damn well do. And you didn't answer my question."
Another shrug. "She got happier, after you left. It took a while but she got better."
The words stung and he knew they were meant to, but verbal dig out of the way she seemed to be seriously pondering the question.
"She missed you. You could tell cause she never mentioned you. She kept giving me all these feminist lectures about how no always means no and all men are idiots. When I asked about you she said, and I quote, 'it's complicated.' I want her to be happy, but it's still twisted, that she could want to be with you after what you did to her."
"Don't think she does, was hypothetical is all."
"In that case I don't mind a bit," said Dawn, with a not entirely kind smile. "You're way easier to get info out of than Buffy, anyway."
"Sorry Bit, you want gossip 'bout your sister you're gonna have to ask her."
"Yeah?" There was a threat in that short word. "So if you're not sticking it to her, why were you in her room? All night."
"You take that back," Spike sputtered, much to Dawn's amusement. "You can't say things like that, s'not right. Just kipped in there is all, she had a bad dream."
Dawn opened her mouth and Spike was truly afraid of what she might ask next, so he carried right on talking. "It's not like that, you dirty minded little tramp."
And it really hadn't been, but he was thinking of the morning after and the words didn't ring true. "S'all perfectly innocent, we're friends now and... Bloody hell! I'm playing right into your hands, aren't I?"
"Like a fly in a web."
He snorted. Outwitted by a chit of a girl who mixed her metaphors. "You're wasting your time. There isn't anything to find out, and I can't tell you what your sis is thinking cause I don't know. I'm never going to be the happy ending for Buffy, I know that, but I love her and that's never gonna change either, don't need to know all the answers just yet. Love you too, for what it's worth, know I made a lousy job of that as well."
"Too right. And don't think you're getting round me with big sad eyes, you're playing the master." But she very nearly smiled, and didn't try all that hard to hide it.
"I'm not playing. You ever gonna forgive me?"
"Not my place to," said Dawn flatly. "It's not like we're friends."
And on that petty note Dawn flounced out of the kitchen.
********
Buffy couldn't sleep.
She wasn't frustrated, absolutely not, but she'd half expected Spike to join her again tonight and when it became clear he wasn't going to she had to lie awake and wonder why not.
They'd been getting on well enough in the morning, hadn't they? After the obligatory angst and before they were interrupted, and it felt to Buffy that something had changed. Like they had unfinished business, but he didn't come.
Had he been waiting for an invitation? She'd hardly had time to gather her thoughts during the day.
Or a worse thought, was he waiting for her command?
Buffy tried to remember the exact details of their conversation, marathon in length by their standards. Seemed she'd talked an awful lot. Had she coaxed out a new, fun-having Spike?
Or given him to think she required his services?
It was almost unbearable to believe he'd touched her because it had been expected of him, because he thought that was why she wanted him around. But she'd hardly been guarded in her reactions to him, that was what she wanted and Spike had always been good at anticipating her needs.
But it wasn't enough that he would give Buffy what she wanted, she didn't know if she could reciprocate, especially when she didn't know what it was.
He'd kissed her and told her that he loved her, Spike had never lied about such things and it wasn't fair to doubt him now.
So Buffy lay in the dark and doubted herself.
She could ask him, if he was here, but then if he'd come they probably wouldn't be talking and that was her fault too. She'd pushed too fast and tempted him too soon and now he was probably avoiding her in case she was mad at him.
Why wasn't telepathy included in the inventory of slayer skills?
Maybe he was mad at her? Thought she was treating him as a convenience as she had done last year, and maybe he wasn't wrong.
If the apocalypse could hold off for a couple more weeks maybe they could find a minute to talk. She was getting better at the talking, and not just motivational speeches. Hell, it could be fun, gossiping and teasing like she'd done before she got so lost.
But it didn't seem fair to tease Spike when he was sensitive to her every word, she didn't know how to regain the easy bantering relationship they'd shared before the sex. She needed him to talk but didn't know how to ask the questions without also dictating the answers, if he knew what she wanted him to say then she couldn't trust he wasn't just saying what he thought she wanted to hear.
He'd said he still loved her and she had to trust that. Maybe it was unfair to expect him to share his thoughts when she'd shut him down so often in the past, and she'd pushed too hard already.
Maybe it was just her turn to lie awake and wonder what the hell was going on in his head.
Karmic retribution.
********
A strong hand diverted Spike's course to the basement door and he found himself facing Buffy in the hallway.
"What's up, Slayer? New instrument of the first? Andrew been cooking again?"
"No, nothing apocalyptical." Buffy hugged herself, glanced into the empty kitchen. "I just wanted to talk to you, you've been all avoidy."
"I've been busy," he corrected. "With fifteen adolescents you won't let me kill.."
Spike looked at her more closely. All the signs of trouble were there in her body language, arms wrapped round a nagging worry she didn't want to share. He sighed. "Out with it, Buffy."
"Out with what?"
"Oh don't give me that. I can read you like a book. Just don't know what bizarre idea you'll have got into your head to worry about today."
He half expected a standard denial, but instead Buffy laughed.
"I do not have bizarre ideas. I have legitimate concerns, even if I'm not sure what they are, and I like frequent reassurance. You may have noticed I don't have such a good affect on people I share a bed with."
Spike wished for the millionth time in their acquaintance that she was easier to read, for all his boasting the print was still a little fuzzy. Concerns in which direction? Was this the 'don't make too much of it' talk or the 'am I still beautiful?' question. Knowing his Slayer she could worry about both simultaneously, and a hundred and one other things besides.
"You had a good affect on me, used to be evil, remember?"
He reached out to tug a lock of her hair and she leaned into his touch with a smile. "That's an interesting way of looking at it. I don't remember it being that simple."
Spike pulled her into a hug. "It's simple now. I'm not brooding, I'm not plotting evil, I haven't gone off you and I don't want anything from you, does that cover everything? I'm here for whatever you need, pet, and nothing's going to change less you want it to." He rubbed her shoulder, trying to will her to relax. "Hate to think I'm another headache for you when you've got so much on your plate."
"You're not a headache! Hey, maybe I just needed a hug."
Was Spike's turn to laugh as she wrapped her arm round his waist and snuggled closer. "Talking and hugging? Who are you and what have you done with my Slayer?"
"Oi! Update, bleach boy, not me that's been making with the meaningful silence just recently. When you're not stammering."
"Oi yourself! That was last week. I'm back to being my loud, obnoxious self I promise."
Spike reached down to pinch her bum before making his escape to the cellar.
"You little..."
"Sorry love, can't stop," he called over his shoulder. "If I don't get back down there and supervise you're going to be down a pommel horse, so chill out, yeah?"
Spike paused and turned to wink at her from the safety of the cellar doorway. "Doesn't it make you scared when I'm the responsible adult?"
Chapter Four
When Willow timidly announced she'd be prepared to take the potentials on a Bronze shaped outing Spike could have kissed her. The suppressed pleasure on Buffy's face alone was worth a big fat snog.
And now after weeks of cramped chaos in every room the house was unnaturally quiet. Dawn had elected for mysterious teenage rituals in the usually busy bathroom, Xander was playing sheepdog to Willow's guardian angel and Buffy had eschewed Giles and the auxiliary Scoobies in the living room in favour of a little alone time.
Spike found her on the porch, staring at her hands and looking a million miles away.
"You worrying about the upcoming apocalypse or the hormone bomb out on the town?"
Buffy turned to give him a distracted smile as he settled on the steps beside her.
"You, actually."
"Thought we agreed you don't need to worry about me?"
"I'm not worrying, per se. Just thinking about last year. I've got the night off, why shouldn't I think? And I should. Those who fail to learn the lessons of history, etc etc."
Despite his better intentions Spike bristled a little. "There will be no repeat of last year," he stated. "I'm different, Buffy."
"But am I?"
The question caught him by surprise.
Spike could hardly remember the pale, miserable shadow of last year, eclipsed by this vibrant new girl. No, woman.
"Brooks no comparison, love. Less of a bitch, to use your words. Happier, I'd say, feeling better about yourself. And it's good to see."
Buffy laughed, eyes dancing as she glanced at him sideways. "Oh you, you always make me feel better. I wouldn't have survived last year without you."
"Worked out nicely, then." The vampire was doing an internal Snoopy dance at her casual admission, so glad she could laugh with him now. "So why all the thinking?"
"You really have problems with that concept, don't you?" Another laugh, teasing now. "Buffy thinking, the last sign of an apocalypse."
"I've learnt to be cautious. No telling what might be going on in your head and sometimes you overestimate my powers of clairvoyance."
"It's just... I'm happier now, like you say. And I'm happy you're... well whoever you are now. I shouldn't want..."
She lowered her voice, as if making a great confession, and looked down at her shoes. "I miss it sometimes, last year. Not the feeling shitty all the time but... sometimes... Oh crap, I dig at you for the stammering and now I can't finish a sentence."
If Spike had learned one thing from her it was a little patience, so he waited silently for her to gather her thoughts.
"I'm just so screwed up," sighed Buffy eventually. "Really was all badness last year and I wasn't myself. But now, I should know better, but sometimes I remember... You know what? I think my subconscious hates me. It's evil and must be killed."
"Might get a bit messy, that."
"Full frontal lobotomy ought to do it. Ever considered trepanning?"
Spike dared a grin, but it was obvious under the joking something was nagging at her and she didn't know how to get it out.
"Everyone's fucked up, you do know that? One way or another, Slayer, everyone's confused."
"Tell that to Doctor Phil. My dreams would make his eyes pop out."
Spike couldn't help laughing now. "Sometimes, Buffy love, I don't know if you're pondering the philosophical terrors of life or worrying about a yen for rough sex."
At her guilty start he chuckled again. "Ooh, has the Slayer been having naughty thoughts?"
Buffy glared out of habit, then added a nod.
"You're a daft old bird sometimes, no point worrying about what gets you hot, is there? No-one expects you to be Julie Andrews in the privacy of your own mind."
"I left nun-like a way back, you've still got the scars."
"Wear 'em like trophies," he scoffed. "Never did anything to me I wouldn't have begged you to. You know what was wrong with last year, Slayer? Not with me, I was an arsehole and I'm working on that. But why you were so unhappy?"
"Cause I'm a sick little puppy who can't tell the difference between fighting and fucking?"
"Cause. You. Beat. Yourself. Up. You've got all the time in the world for me, and Willow, and Angel, though none of us deserve to be forgiven, but for yourself you set impossible targets of perfection."
Buffy shook her head. "I'm far from perfect. And I hurt you, whatever you might say. Don't want to do that again. Don't want to be that person again. But sometimes I see you and I do, want to do it all again."
Hmm. Spike took a moment to digest that. Seemed like anything he could say would sound like a come-on, and perhaps it wasn't a good moment to point out he wouldn't mind. "If me being around's making you... unsettled, I can buzz off. Just say the word."
"No!" Buffy elbowed him soundly and continued with some asperity. "If you're going to get all melodramatic again I'm reconsidering this conversation bullshit. I was just thinking, I do that sometimes, I'm told it's healthy. There's no big drama, just who I am, I like to understand stuff and sometimes it takes me a lot of working out."
She shot him a look that was almost pleading. "It's hard enough to share my thoughts. And I have abandonment issues, you keep offering to go away and I'm gonna think you want to."
Spike bumped her shoulder affectionately. "Now who's being melodramatic? You'd have to throw me out, we both know it."
Maybe it took a bit of getting used to, being friends, he was still adjusting to mature Buffy, who worked through issues and didn't let her problems overwhelm her. And maybe not everything could be glossed over with a new start, but God he felt close, sitting here sharing her thoughts.
Spike put his arm around her and Buffy laid her head on his shoulder.
"You're a good person, love. Seen the best and the worst of you and I should know. There's nothing wrong with what we did."
Buffy snorted. "The other day or last year?"
"Either. Both. But I was talking about last year. It's connected in your head, the sex and the misery, but if you'd done those things with someone you loved, or just for fun..."
Buffy straightened up to give him her full attention and Spike suddenly found he was getting a little tongue tied himself. "We were bad for each other, but that wasn't the sex. S'not dirty... what consenting adults do in bed... whatever the hell gets you wet, it's not wrong... S'awkward, this talking stuff, ain't it?"
Buffy seemed torn between blushing and smirking, went with both. "You were very good at the sex." She patted his knee, mostly teasing. "So wasn't the problem."
"Thank you," he growled sarcastically. "But I don't actually have performance anxiety and I was talking about you. Using sex to punish yourself, that's twisted. Doing something that makes you miserable. Being ashamed, that's what's fucked up."
"I wasn't ashamed of you," answered Buffy softly. "Just what I made you do."
"You didn't make me do anything!"
"Not made, then, encouraged. Wanted you to take me, and hurt me, taught you that when I said no, I meant make me..."
Buffy trailed off, Spike was staring at her in a way that made her almost afraid.
"If this is going where I think it's going, you can just shut your fucking mouth, young lady."
She gaped at him in amazement.
"You want to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, fine. But you can't take responsibility for what I did, what anyone does, understand?"
She shook her head. "I wasn't going there. But you did a bad thing and you're sorry, and you changed. Me, I did lots of bad things, and I want to do them again."
"Really?" Spike drawled into her ear, low and seductive. "Like what?"
"It's not funny!"
"Bloody well is. What, exactly, is it you want to do that's so bad? Phone your dad, ask if your mum only ever fancied the missionary."
He rode right through Buffy's scandalized gasp, warming to his subject. "Do you know Willow and Tara kept a strap on under the bed? Size of it made me envious. Giles has a stash of specialist magazines that are illegal in California. Hell, even Niblet-"
"Stop right there!" Buffy squeaked. "I never want to know the end of that sentence."
But Spike wasn't to be stopped.
"Giles and your Mum did it on the bonnet of a police car, just for the thrill of maybe being caught."
"They were under a spell!"
"To make them feel young. You're already young. You're allowed to be irresponsible, expected to make the occasional bad choice, and you're supposed to cut loose and have a little fun. If your idea of fun leaves bruises, well that's between you and whoever you're having fun with. Believe me, there's no higher power that cares if you like a bit of S&M. Come to England, it's virtually a way of life. Hell, go to Germany, see what they sell on the high streets and then tell me you're peculiar.
"S'got nothing to do with being the Slayer, not really, 'cept you can give more and take more. And sure you have to be careful cause you can hurt where another girl wouldn't leave a mark, but all men live with that. You shouldn't ever be ashamed of what you want, everyone's got their own dirty secret, nine times out of ten it's the ones who bottle it up who turn out to be a menace to society. It can only be wrong if you're willing to hurt people to get what you want and I know you better than that.
"I knew you didn't want me and I tried to take you anyway and nothing you did can excuse that. Nothing you did should be compared 'cause I always wanted you, enjoyed every second and you know it, only hurt when you didn't want me and that's not your fault, just the way of the world. You're just... normal. If you'd ever had a chance to leave this suburban hell hole and see a bit of real life you'd have found all this out for yourself. You're never alone, s'why talking so important. And I've been doing that a while, shutting up now.
"Your mouth is open, by the way."
Buffy closed her jaws with a snap that echoed round the now silent garden.
"Pervert," she said eventually.
"Necrophiliac," he shot back.
Buffy laughed, she couldn't help it. "Got me there. You realise we've been talking about sex for, like, ten minutes and you haven't hit on me once? What's up with that?"
Spike eyed her warily, be easier if she told him what the right answer was before asking questions like that. "It's not a trick question," she added, with unnerving perception. "I'm just wondering."
"Didn't think you'd want me to."
"Were you having a different conversation to the one I was having?"
He cocked his head on one side, regarded her thoughtfully. "What does that mean, Buffy?"
The Slayer wriggled a little, caught in his piercing gaze. "That sounds like a serious question. I'm kinda all serioused out, you mentioned something about fun?"
"Um I did?" Spike stalled, tried to recall the exact words of his impassioned rant. "And serioused? Can't let that one go."
Buffy met his eye, and he could see she was trying not to smile at his uncertainty. "Not S&M fun, just cutting loose. What do young people do? And it's so very sad I have to ask that question."
"Drink lots and listen to really bad music," answered Spike promptly. "Then gyrate around in a ridiculous parody of dancing until they're sick on their ridiculously expensive shoes."
"Hmm. Think I've passed young. What do slightly older people do?"
"Better music, less vomiting."
"Right." Buffy used Spike's shoulder to lever herself to her feet and dusted down her jeans. "Give me a couple of hours to get Dawn out of the bathroom. If you would like, that is."
Spike shrugged, tried very hard to stay casual. "Would have gone with the S&M myself, but I'll deal."
********
When Buffy reappeared a mere 45 minutes later it was with a much made up Dawn, towering over her sister in a pair of borrowed heels.
Off Spike's look the Slayer shrugged and explained.
"We're gonna sneak her into the new bar down town, really living dangerously tonight. Anya's going to join us when she's done in the shower. I told Andrew he couldn't come, just to prove I'm still sane."
Spike fought down uncharitable disappointment that he wasn't getting her all to himself, and gave Dawn his best evil grin. "Come on, then, let's go and corrupt the minor."
And it was impossible to feel hard done by as she took his arm walking down the front path, done up to the nines and positively glowing. And relaxed, for all that she was still Buffy and still had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was carrying it better.
"If you two are gonna make with the PDA's I'm calling social services," said Dawn tartly.
Buffy laughed, leaned into Spike with a suggestiveness purely for show as she turned round to answer. The vampire shivered against her, hard in seconds.
"You just wait, missy. I'm gonna dance, embarrassingly and enthusiastically. Then I'm gonna get drunk and tell all your potential dates cutsie baby stories. Then I'm gonna let Spike threaten to rip their arms off and you're gonna wish I was just snogging him in a corner somewhere."
"Snogging? God! Buffy, you need therapy."
But the Slayer just laughed again. "This is therapy. Grown-up, alcoholic, dancing therapy. You wanted to come."
"Fine," Dawn snapped, marching past Spike and Buffy with a disdainful toss of her head. "But you'd better be sharing that alcohol. Passing out sounds good right about now."
Buffy followed, tugging a dazed Spike in her wake.
Snogging? Suddenly Spike was convinced this was a really bad idea. If one casual touch and the merest suggestion of a kiss left his thought process in tatters, how the hell was he to survive watching her dance?
"PDA's?" he asked quietly.
"Public displays of affection."
"Like... holding hands?" Spike suggested.
To be continued....
And can I make a request? If you feel moved to comment, say something mean. Everyone's been really nice, maybe it's an American thing, and it's toe curlingly good to read that people have enjoyed my fiction enough to comment and say so. But without critisism my learning curve is going to be a horizontal line.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 11:51 pm (UTC)I like your softer world. Someone else said Buffy is too verbal, and that's right. But why shouldn't she grow up into someone who tries to get a handle on things? I sort of wonder if there isn't something wrong with the canon depiction of her as someone who appears to be permanently emotionally stunted. Anyway, I like your Buffy, and these days that's saying something. (That's just me getting cynical here.)
I also thought there was a bit too much weight on the kinky sex thing. Was that really such a big part of the mix for Buffy and her sense of the badness of season 6? I mean, I can see it. But I think her expressions of self-disgust had a lot more to do with the fact that Spike was a soulless vampire, and less to do with a few handcuff episodes. True, ME did seem to want to connect them. But my impression is that Xander and Anya had a creative sex life, and there was nothing 'disgusting' about that -- only trouble there was that Xander wasn't comfortable with her candor about it. So while I thought the subject could reasonably come up, I wasn't clear on why it went on so long.
Off to read the next two chapters. Even if it is to be an indefinite WIP it is a pleasure to read!
no subject
Date: 2007-05-11 12:24 pm (UTC)I claim self-indulgence for my first real fic. Reading it back now there's a little too much of them talking about the things I want to write about rather than the things you might reasonably expect the characters to talk about. I suppose I wanted to show Buffy learning to separate the kinky sex from the actual bad stuff. But mostly, just self indulgence. It's too much too soon for them but I enjoyed picturing it and I enjoyed writing it. In that respect the whole fic needs re-writing, that's partly why I've been dithering over it so long.
I'm curious if we have any turns of phrase that *you* would envy!
American English tends to get absorbed into English English. I guess it's because we get so much of your TV. There aren't many Americanisms that aren't everyday phrases here, among young people at least, so it's hard to separate the two. The only two I can think of that aren't used by English people are son-of-a-bitch and mother-f*****. And even that last one is creeping in, via this new fangled modern music scene.
Thanks for your comments.