Chapter Ten



A/N: I think you're going to like this one... :-)

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Later that night, she made her way down into the basement, where Spike had taken up residence once more, despite her protests. As he had pointed out – prompting blushes and embarrassment – he couldn’t stay in her bed forever. At least he was no longer shackled down here like a wild animal though. She had refused to even consider the idea, much to the consternation of her friends. He was a guest in her house, a friend, and as such he deserved no such treatment. Instead, she provided him with a bed and plenty of blankets, knowing he liked his comfort. He also had a few more of his possessions, gathered from god knows where.

She made her way down into his makeshift bedroom now, determined to make sure he had not been completely lying to her about his recovery. She found him sitting on the bed reading, but he looked up as soon as she started down the steps and rose to his feet as her feet hit the ground. She wondered idly if it was a Victorian thing – standing up whenever she came into the room – or if it was purely a Spike thing, but quickly stopped her musings as she came to a stop a few feet away from him.

“You escaped then?” he asked with a wry smile, nodding towards the ceiling.

“Yep,” she answered with her own smile, “For now.”

They fell silent and Spike hesitated before turning, nodding towards the bed, offering for her to sit.

“I’m fine,” she got out quickly, halting him.

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, watching her unnervingly.



Another long silence descended over them before she finally forced herself to speak up.

“You’re still hurt,” she blurted out and Spike raised an eyebrow in something like amusement before shrugging.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, that’s what you say but then you’re all with the ‘oww’,” she exclaimed, softening immediately afterwards, “You don’t have to lie to me, Spike. I need to know if you’re hurting so I can help you.”

“S’nothing,” he commented with another shrug, but she was not so easily dissuaded and she rolled her eyes.

“Let me look.”

“It’s fine, really.”

Ignoring his protest, she stepped forward and caught his T-shirt, slipping her hands underneath to press her fingers against his ribs. He flinched a tiny bit with her touch and she looked up at him triumphantly. Just as she was about to comment though, the words got stuck in her throat. He was looking at her with such warmth, such desire, his bright eyes swimming with emotion. It stilled her and prevented any movement, even as she realised just what this scene might look like to an onlooker.

His hands reached up and rested over hers for a moment before he ran them slowly up her arms, his eyes still locked on hers. She could hardly breathe and her mouth had gone dry as he continued to just look at her, his hands holding her arms gently. And the ache inside burst into flame, urging her onwards, onwards.
“Spike,” she whispered helplessly.



A second later, maybe two, and he was kissing her, his lips so soft, so hesitant as they brushed against hers. She let out a sigh against him and kissed him back just as hesitantly. She had never let him kiss her like this before, had never wanted this amount of tenderness in their relationship but now she relished it. She dared not move in case it spoil this moment and she kept her hands on his cool skin, her fingers twitching eagerly against him.

He raised one hand to cup her cheek and the last bit of tension eked out of her with a sigh as she leant towards him. He pulled away for a millisecond to let her breathe, but then his mouth was on hers again, peppering short, tantalising kisses over her lips, one after another. She was completely lost in the moment, in the gentleness of this embrace – a gentleness they had never shared before. Moments later, a sudden bang from the kitchen had them parting like lightning and nervously looking towards the basement door.

When no-one appeared and they heard voices retreating from the kitchen again a few minutes later, they finally turned to each other, their gazes locking in a blaze of emotion. Her lips were still tingling with Spike’s soft kisses and she raised her fingers to them unthinkingly, missing the shadow that crossed over Spike’s face.

“I know,” he burst out suddenly, turning away from her, “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”



She watched him in stunned silence for a full few minutes as he paced to the wall and stopped there, slamming a fist against it angrily. He thought… A beat later and she was striding towards him, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face her. She took a moment to take in the look of despair on his face, before she reached up and pressed her lips to his once more.

He moaned into her mouth and drew her closer, pulling her insistently against his body as her arms twined around him. She let her hunger for him pour out into their kiss now, overwhelmed with the feel of him after so long. He groaned and tugged her closer, pulling her flush against him, one hand burying in her hair and holding her mouth to his. She too craved that closeness and she moulded herself to him, causing him to stumble back into the wall. It was only his muffled cry of pain that stopped her and she pulled away with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, remembering with a flash why she had come here in the first place, “Your ribs.”

“I’m okay,” he soothed, running his hands down her arms.

“Let me fix you up,” she pleaded, her voice softer than ever, “Please.”

After a pause, he let out a sigh and released her.

“Okay,” he conceded and she stepped away, moving over to the storage area in search of bandages.

“Buffy,” he said hesitantly after a short silence, “Are we going to talk about what happened? Or are we just going to ignore it?”



She turned to him, bandage in hand, and frowned ever so slightly before making her way over to him where he sat on the bed. She knelt on the floor in front of him and took his hand in hers, smiling softly.

“You going to let me make you better first?” she whispered.

He nodded, seemingly bewildered by her gentleness, and she released his hand, only to move both hands to his T-shirt. She tugged it out of his jeans and slowly inched it over his head, placing it down on the bed beside him. Her gaze instantly flew to his ribs, her concerned gaze running over him as she gently stroked her fingers over his ribs. There was still some slight bruising but it had mostly faded and he did seem a lot better. Still, determined to do right by him, she set to bandaging his ribs once more.

When she was done though, she was reluctant to stop touching him and she let her hands trace over his shoulders, her hesitant gaze rising to his as he placed a finger under her chin. He traced the same finger over her lips, his eyes watching her with a mixture of fear and hope. He leant towards her ever so slightly but then paused, waiting for her to make the final move. She hardly paused and her lips collided with his in a hungry kiss, her hands braced on the bed either side of him as she sought to get closer.

He twined both hands in her hair and drew her close, deepening their kiss and drawing a moan from both of them. He pulled back far too soon though, his forehead resting against hers, blue eyes watching her intently.

“Buffy,” he murmured, “What are we doing?”

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts and then met his gaze square on.

“I missed you, Spike,” she whispered, “And I don’t want to be missing you anymore when you’re right here.”

“Buffy,” he got out, breathing her name like a prayer.

“I want you,” she got out boldly, continuing before he could interrupt, “Not like before. God, not like before.”



She glanced up at him and stopped, drinking in the look on his face: that precious hope, that overwhelming love, all of it. They just stayed there, staring at each other, for a long few minutes and it was only when her knees started to protest that she shifted.

“You know, this floor’s really uncomfortable.”

That simple comment seemed to break through the tension and Spike laughed, taking her hand and drawing her to her feet, only to pull her gently down onto the bed beside him. She rested her back against the wall and curled her legs up, her knees resting against his as he turned to her, his hand still clutched in hers. He raised his free hand to her face and tucked a hair behind her ear as she leaned into his touch.

“I must be dreaming.”

She let out a tiny laugh and opened her eyes once more to meet his bright gaze.

“Feels like it, doesn’t it?” she whispered with a smile, unable to resist the urge to reach out and trace his bare shoulder. He leaned in with a smile and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, lingering for the shortest of moments.

“Is this real?” he murmured against her lips.

“Do you doubt me?”

When he hesitated, she gave a low, bitter laugh.

“Of course you do. And I guess you have every right to. After what I did-“

He cut her off with a kiss that took her breath away, tugging her towards him and settling her in his lap before she could even think. She moaned and twined her arms around his neck - somehow remembering through the haze of her lust not to hold him too tightly – as she kissed him back hungrily.

She became minutely aware of every little movement he made, of his bare skin under her hands, of his soft touch on her back. He parted from her for a brief second and then kissed her again, softly once more, taking his time. And she let him take control, savouring this intimacy, this new start.