| Water Under the Bridge by BuffyMeetsSpike |
| Chapter #1 - Chapter 1 |
| Water Under the Bridge by Buffy Meets Spike Disclaimer: All the vampires and other characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, not me. Summary: Ten years after Not Fade Away, Buffy and Spike meet by chance. After all that has happened in the intervening years, what stories do they have to tell? And do they still feel the same way about each other? Beta work by the lovely Sanity Fair. Any mistakes are mine. ********************************** Chapter 1 ********************************** Why does anyone live here? Buffy grumbled to herself. She was patrolling down a narrow street in a run-down section of downtown Phoenix, sweating like a pig. Even at ten o’clock at night it was still ninety degrees, and despite everyone’s cheery protestations of, “But it’s a dry heat!” she still felt like she was literally in hell most of the time. The streets were still giving off their daily accumulation of heat, and there was no wind to temper the stifling feeling of the crowded alleys. She wished the demons could kindly congregate somewhere cooler, like Anchorage, but they were notoriously uncooperative. She had been on her current assignment for a week now, cleaning up the larger than normal accumulation of demons that were gathered for some bizarre ritual involving some buried church or was it a mission? She honestly hadn’t paid a ton of attention. On the phone, Giles had said that she was needed to clean up Phoenix, so she had tossed her things in her two suitcases and hit the road again. As she stalked the dirty sidewalks, she remembered that she had forgotten to call Dawn, again, and let her know where she was. But Dawn was busy with her life and her family and didn’t seem to notice much if Buffy didn’t call for a month. A sudden sound from up ahead put her on full alert, and she grabbed a short sword from a scabbard at her back, readying herself. The Corali demons that she was stalking were tough little bastards, as she had found out the first night. You could kill them with your bare hands or rather she could, but it was a lot of work. Swords made it quicker. The Corali were around six feet tall, with tough orange-brown skin and a penchant for green cloaks that completely clashed. I mean, if you’re going to be doing all these demonic rituals could you at least find an outfit that matches your skin? Buffy shook her head, willing herself to concentrate on killing them now and trashing their fashion sense later. She stayed in the shadows near the end of the alleyway, waiting for the demon to cross her path. When the figures crossed the end of the alley she silently sighed to see there were two of them. Not that she couldn’t handle two; she just wasn’t particularly in the mood. She adjusted her grip on her sword and prepared to pounce. Suddenly, one of the demons went flying down the alley past her wide eyes. A dark figure was fighting the second one, whirling and kicking in a ferocious ballet. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, she sprang after the first demon that had come up short in a pile of garbage cans. His head was rolling in the scattered trash before he could recover his composure. She spun to go investigate the mystery demon fighter, who was grappling with the second Corali demon at the mouth of the alley. She couldn’t see the newcomer over the head of the Corali, but as she watched, a pair of white hands came up, grabbed the Corali’s horns, and twisted sharply, snapping its neck. The Corali’s body hit the ground, and she found herself staring into a very familiar set of blue eyes. “Spike?” Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open as she tried to process what she was seeing. “Spike, is that you?” Spike’s eyes widened in turn. “Buffy? What the hell are you doing here?” His voice sounded as astonished as hers. “Killing Corali demons, and you?” Her mouth ran on as her brain froze at the realization that Spike was here. The last time she had heard anything about him he had been reported missing in action, presumed dust, yet here he was. Does not compute. “Um, same thing. Passing through, heard about the ritual, thought I’d clean up the place a bit before I moved on.” He looked at her and looked at her, drinking in the sight as if he’d never seen anything like her before. He finally got control of his mouth enough to say, “You, um, you look good, Slayer.” “Not so bad yourself. For a dead man, especially.” Buffy’s brain kept running in circles. Spike was here. Spike. Long dead emotions swirled in both of them as they stared and stared at each other. Buffy found herself struck by a need to talk with him, to find out what had happened to him, and she blurted out, “Do you… do you have time for a drink?” “A drink?” Spike looked as if that was the last thing he expected to hear. “It’s just… it’s been so long. I’d like to just… talk for a while.” Buffy found herself nearly at a loss for words. It was like being in shock, some otherworldly experience, to have this person from her former life appear as if by magic. “Sure. There’s a decent enough bar a few blocks from here.” He led the way out of the alley, and she fell in step beside him. They said nothing although both kept stealing glances at the other. The situation was awkward, like meeting an old college roommate that you weren’t sure if you had anything in common with any more. The odd quiet was beginning to feel slightly ridiculous when they finally arrived at a small Mexican restaurant and bar at the edge of a commercial district. Suddenly aware that walking in with a sword would look odd to most people she stashed it behind some decorative cacti next to the entrance. Spike held the door for her and they went in to find the bar mostly deserted. They found two seats in a quiet corner and ordered: tequila for him, a Corona for her. They raised their drinks to each other and took several sips before Spike finally broke the silence. “So what brings you out here so far away from all the Slayerettes?” “It’s sort of what I do now. If there’s an area with no Slayer and a heavy demon infestation, I get sent there to deal with it. I spend a month here, a few months there – Giles just sends me wherever a short term heavy duty cleanup is needed.” Buffy looked Spike over as she spoke. He had let his hair go natural, and she was amused to find out that it was really a lovely shade of brown under all the bleach. He had a new scar down one side of his face, near his ear, but otherwise had the same smooth skin and chiseled features that she remembered. Spike raised an eyebrow at her explanation. “Seems to me they could find a better use for you. Don’t they need you to train all the newbies?” Buffy shrugged. “Faith took that over. After I…” She paused, realizing that there was a lot Spike didn’t know. “I should probably start at the beginning. There’s a lot you don’t know about.” Spike leaned on the bar and settled in. “I’m all ears.” Buffy took a deep breath and another drink of her beer then began. “Not sure how much you know, so feel free to stop me if you’ve heard any of this. Anyway, after Sunnydale we went to Europe. Giles was intent on getting at whatever Council resources were left after the big kaboom. It was okay at first. There was so much to do, girls to find and things to sort out. Kept me from thinking too much.” “About?” Spike interjected. “About you, for one thing. About all I’d lost. About Anya and the girls who didn’t make it.” Her voice wavered a bit, and she took another drink to steady herself. She went on, firmly avoiding the issue of their last meeting. “Anyhow, things settled down a bit, but then I got into a fight with a massive Chirago demon. Stupid thing fell on me and broke half my ribs and damn near crushed my arm to a pulp.” Spike looked her over. “You seem to have healed up alright,” he observed. “Yeah, I did. In, like, record time. Remember that big stomach wound I got when we were fighting in the Hellmouth?” “Vaguely. I was a bit preoccupied at the time.” Spike shuddered involuntarily at the memory of that particular experience. “At the time I didn’t really think about how I survived that. But after the run-in with the Chirago I had Willow run some tests. Turns out I’m, well, immortal now.” Spike sat up, a serious look on his face. “Come again?” “Apparently a side effect of the spell to activate all the Slayers,” Buffy explained. “Turned all the potentials into Slayers, turned the original Slayer into something that can’t be killed. Although I suppose if someone lopped off my head that would do the trick. For some reason it didn’t affect Faith, only me. Maybe because I was the original? Who knows? Doesn’t matter I guess.” Spike whistled. “How did you feel about that?” Buffy laughed a bit. “I pretty much went off the rails for a while. The thought that I would have to do this literally forever just sort of…” “Drove you mad?” “Yeah, that. I started partying, drinking, pretty much doing whatever I wanted for a while.” Spike paused then asked, “Was that when you started dating the Immortal?” Buffy blushed slightly. “Heard about that did you?” “It… came to my attention.” Buffy wondered why it sounded like he was hiding something but went on. “I made a total ass of myself with him. Thought he might be the one to understand me. Turns out he just wanted to screw a Slayer since he’d done just about everything else.” She shook her head and took another drink, finishing the beer and motioning the bartender for another round. “I had heard that you were married or engaged or something,” Spike said. “I haven’t gotten to that part of the story yet,” she said absently. “Don’t interrupt.” She frowned at him and took a long drink. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Spike said, starting on his second tequila with a bemused smile. Setting down her beer she continued, “Anyhow, the Immortal took off, and I decided to grow up and deal. You actually helped a lot with that you know.” “I did?” Spike raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Dawn and I were having a big fight about my behavior and she threw something out about you not sacrificing yourself just so I could screw half of Europe. I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me, wherever you were. So I tried to be a good little Slayer and get back to my job.” Buffy was amazed at the torrent of words coming from her mouth. I don’t think I’ve strung this many words together in a year or more. “What happened next?” he prompted, evidently fascinated by her tale. Buffy’s expression sobered a bit. “The apocalypse in LA,” she said quietly. She hadn’t cried in ages, and she firmly told herself she wasn’t going to start now. He didn’t need to see her tears. “We didn’t hear about it until it was all over and Angel showed up at my doorstep, all human and stuff.” “So the poof got the big prize, huh?” Spike was trying, but failing to mask his irritation at the mention of Angel. He bolted down his tequila and motioned for another. “Yeah, he was the big winner,” Buffy said with a shrug. “He showed up with a pulse and told me all about the, whatever it was, sand shoe prophesy?” “Shanshu.” “Whatever. He also told me how you had come back, and how instrumental you had been in the last fight, and how you had fallen into a demon dimension with some… woman or something.” “That would be Ilyria,” Spike explained. “She was a god in another dimension. Opened up a portal and yanked most of the demons, and me, through the hole. Ended up fighting demons there for quite a while before I managed to get back here. But that’s for later. How long have you and Angel been married then?” Buffy choked on her beer. “Married? To Angel? Who told you that?” “I guess I just assumed,” Spike answered, clearly confused by her reaction. “I mean he was the love of your life, he turns human again, I figured that would be that.” “Um, no,” Buffy said with a frown. “Oh sure, that was pretty much his plan. Get the heartbeat, come and sweep me off my feet, live happily ever after. Might have happened except for the fact that he lied to me about you.” Spike’s mouth dropped open slightly as she continued. “When he told me that you had come back, but that you had somehow decided it would be better if I moved on, and that he didn’t think he should tell me, I was… well pissed doesn’t cover it. Then when he told me you were gone again, probably dead, I lost it.” “Lost it?” “I broke his nose.” Spike couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “That’s my slayer. Always discussing things with your fists.” “I guess it’s my first language,” Buffy said with a crooked smile that vanished as rapidly as it appeared. “Anyhow, I was pretty upset, threw him out of my apartment, and pretty much didn’t talk to anyone for a few weeks. I think that was the first time I cried since Sunnydale.” She started peeling the label off her beer, not wanting to meet Spike’s eyes right then. “I mourned you for real then. Before I could blame the First, or fate, and console myself with the thought that you must be in some good place after all you did.” After you left me alone. Again. She shook herself slightly to keep herself from going down the bitterness path. Spike looked at her in disbelief. “I had no idea. Figured you’d have moved on. Honestly didn’t think you were missing me.” Buffy shrugged again. “Well, I did. Miss you. Took me a good year to really get over it all.” She took a drink, deciding she wasn’t going to be forthcoming with a lot of details about that year. At least not until she was a lot more drunk. “Finally decided to move on, for Dawn’s sake if nothing else. She missed you too, by the way,” Buffy added offhandedly. “Never meant to hurt you girls. Just want you to know that,” Spike said, a little guiltily. Another shrug. “It’s okay. We survived. I started dating again. Guy named Steve. His sister is actually one of the Slayers. He showed up looking for her, decided he wanted to become a watcher, started hanging around. We started dating and stuff. About nine months or so into the relationship I got pregnant.” Now it was Spike’s turn to choke on his drink. “You’ve got a kid?” “Yeah. He’s eight now. Lives with his dad.” She took another drink, still addressing her remarks primarily to the now denuded Corona bottle. “So you’re not together anymore?” Spike asked, as if unwilling to broach a difficult subject. “No. We broke up when the baby was about a year old.” “Sorry to hear that.” “It was never really meant to be,” Buffy said as she methodically shredded the label into a small pile of dust in front of her. “We got married because it seemed like the right thing to do, but I don’t know if I would have ever said yes without the baby. It was a little like with Riley. I liked him, maybe loved him a little, but I couldn’t give him what he needed. When the baby came I thought maybe I would feel something, but it didn’t really work out that way. I suffered a lot from post partum depression and all that. Never really felt that connected to either of them somehow.” She wondered why she was pouring all this out to Spike after all this time. She hadn’t really talked any of this out with anyone, truthfully. Her split with Steve had been more of a drifting away than a knock out fight. If she was honest, her unwillingness to really discuss her feelings had been one of the things that drove them apart. It was hard for her to really blame Steve for not knowing what she was going through when she never really told him. “What’s your son’s name?” Spike asked, clearly trying to defuse things a bit. “Tyler William,” Buffy said. Spike raised an eyebrow. “Steve wanted Tyler – he’s an Aerosmith fan and thought that ‘Steve and Tyler’ would be a hoot. I was too wiped out by the birth to argue, but I picked the middle name.” “I’m flattered,” Spike said, and he looked like he meant it. “I… I wanted something to remember you by. I didn’t have anything else.” Could I sound any more pathetic? She finished her second beer and stifled a belch. “Another?” Spike inquired. “Better have a glass of water first, or you may have to carry me home,” Buffy said. She got a glass of soda water with lime from the bartender and sipped that for a while. “So how did he end up with custody?” Spike wondered. “Doesn’t the mom usually get that automatically?” “Depends on the mom, I guess,” Buffy answered. “I took some time off from the Slayer gig when I was pregnant. Had to, really. Hard to fight vampires when you can’t get up without a forklift. Then Steve really leaned on me to stay home when Tyler was first born. I went along with it – I figured maybe I would feel more maternal the more time I spent at home.” “And did it work?” “Not really. I felt bored and trapped. Don’t get me wrong, I did… do… love Tyler. But it always seemed like I had to work at it. Steve on the other hand was an instant father. I could try to put Tyler to bed for an hour, no luck. Steve walked with him for five minutes and the kid was out.” “Maybe Steve was just boring,” Spike ventured. Buffy cracked a small smile. “Maybe. Anyhow, when the kiddo was six months old I got a call from Giles. Big demon uprising in Prague, more than the others could handle. It was literally a matter of life and death, and even Steve could see that I was needed. So I went, we triumphed although we lost a bunch of Slayers in the process. But after that I really couldn’t go back to just staying home all the time. It started out with just a weekend job here and there, but before long I would be gone half the week. At first Steve was supportive, but after a while he got resentful. I got twelve different versions of ‘He’ll only be a baby once and you’re missing it’ speech. When I was late for Tyler’s first birthday party it was sort of the last straw for him. He told me that either I gave up slaying, or he was leaving. I guess you can figure out how that went.” Spike drank in her story with pitying eyes. Unwilling to go into things more deeply, Buffy sipped at her soda water, her face an impenetrable mask that betrayed nothing. “Do you ever see him?” Spike asked. Buffy shook her head. “I meant to fight for joint custody. But something apocalypsy came up like it always does, and I missed the court date because I was fighting my way out of some demon lair at the time. Not really an excuse that a judge is going to buy. Steve moved away and got remarried. Tyler’s got a little sister now. Steve sends me his school picture every year, but otherwise, Tyler doesn’t really know about me. It’s probably better that way.” “I can’t believe that,” Spike said. “For a kid not to know his mother? Just can’t picture you giving up something so important with hardly a fight.” Buffy’s voice came out in a monotone; she had had this discussion with Giles, with Willow, with Xander. Sometimes she felt like she should just record it already. “He has a mother. His stepmom adopted him and everything. Besides, with me as a mom he’d probably be in danger. It’s been bad enough for Dawn, and she’s old enough to handle it. Not fair to saddle a little kid with that.” Spike brightened a bit at Dawn’s name. “How is the Nibblet anyhow? She must be all grown up and on her own.” “You wouldn’t recognize her,” Buffy said with a fond smile. “She graduated from college two years ago. She got married right out of college – she met Brian in her freshman psychology class and it was love at first sight. She works as a researcher for an engineering firm. They’ve got a little girl – Amanda Joyce. She’s about nine months old right now.“ Her voice got distant, despite her efforts to keep things light. Spike narrowed his eyes, and Buffy knew he wasn’t fooled. “How often do you two see each other?” “I haven’t seen her in person since right after Amanda was born. She kinda doesn’t want me around too much.” “The hell? After all you’ve done for her?” Spike shook his head. “What would make Dawn cut you out of her life like that?” Buffy sighed. “Some demons with a grudge against me crashed Dawn’s wedding. Everyone survived, but Brian got hurt and Dawn got pissed. We got in a huge fight. She was tired of being in danger all the time because she was the Slayer’s sister. She made it clear that she didn’t want anyone to know we were related. She and Brian moved to Ireland, took Brian’s last name, and otherwise left the whole Slayer life behind. If I visit, it’s got to be totally undercover, and I don’t think Brian’s ever really forgiven me. So we call sometimes, but it’s a little strained.” “Christ, Slayer.” Spike didn’t come up with a response for a while. They probably would have sat there until doomsday, each staring at their empty drinks if the bartender hadn’t roused them out of their reverie with a cry of “Last call!” “What time is it?” Buffy asked, blinking a bit. She had completely lost track of the hour. Spike peered at the clock behind the bar. “Midnight.” “Maybe we should go,” Buffy said slowly. In truth she didn’t want to go home alone to another empty anonymous rental apartment. But she felt she had no right to hold Spike up. Probably has places to go, people to see. “Could I walk you home?” Spike asked. He looked uncharacteristically shy for a moment, and Buffy was sure that he would be blushing if it was possible. “I’d really like that,” she said, and she was unable to stop the smile that flickered briefly around her lips. Spike tossed some money on the bar, waving her offer to pay aside. They left, retrieved the sword, and Buffy led the way through the streets toward her current abode. “The council pays for a furnished apartment wherever I happen to end up. Unless it’s somewhere really out there, of course.” “Where do you live when you’re not on assignment?” Spike asked as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. The smell of cigarette smoke gave Buffy a feeling of nostalgia, and for once she didn’t insist he put it out. Answering his question she said, “I don’t have anywhere in particular. I just go from place to place as needed.” They walked on through the thick heat and the thicker silence until they arrived at a plain looking apartment building. “This is home then?” “For the moment,” she answered. They stared at each other in awkward silence for another moment before Buffy stuttered, “Can you… I mean I… “ Spike cocked his head. “What is it, pet?” God, could I be any more desperate? Why not just cling to his leg like a two year old? “It’s just… I haven’t talked to anyone, I mean really had a conversation in so long and I just… do you want to come in? Just for a while? To talk?” Spike tilted his head and looked at her with an expression that seemed equal parts concern and confusion. “Sure, Slayer. I’ve got no particular plans right now. Lead on.” Relieved, Buffy unlocked the front door and lead the way up to the third floor. The one bedroom apartment was clean, with reasonably comfortable looking furniture and completely devoid of personality. Spike looked around and in a polite voice said, “Nice place.” “You don’t have to spare my feelings. It’s pretty boring, but at least it’s free of vermin and quiet so good enough.” She set her sword in a corner and said, “I’ll be right back. There’s some beer in the fridge. Make yourself at home.” She disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed. Spike’s here. After all this time. Her brain still couldn’t quite get wrapped around that fact. She used the toilet and washed her hands in a bit of a fog. As she dried her hands she caught a look at herself in the mirror. She still looked like a fresh out of college California girl, blonde hair and toned body, clear tan skin carefully moisturized. Only her eyes betrayed her true age. They were tired and full of years of pain and heartache. She had long since decided that the easiest thing to do was to just concentrate on the work. Relationships with men always ended in disaster, the remaining Scoobies were too much work on a regular basis, and she felt she had no right to intrude on Dawn’s first stable relationship ever. She exchanged emails with Willow and Xander a couple times a month, cursory affairs that usually said little. She called Dawn on occasion, talked to Giles when it was necessary. But overall she had found it was easier to shut down the interpersonal relationship center of her brain and just exist on her own. She’s been fairly successful in putting everything behind her. Her routine consisted of sleeping until noon, making herself a small lunch, reading, watching TV, or doing whatever until nightfall then slaying all night. She avoided crowds, rarely talked to anyone other than store clerks, and while she wasn’t exactly happy she wasn’t really depressed either. He’s here. In the next room, she thought again. The sight of that familiar long lost face and those ice blue eyes had flipped a switch inside her and emotions she had long buried surged to the surface. It was like not realizing you were hungry until someone else made popcorn in the next room. She had managed to forget that she was lonely and disconnected and not particularly happy until she had seen the man who had been with her in her darkest hours. The ache was even worse because he wasn’t going to stay. He was going to leave like everyone did, and she would be stuck here in this limbo again, only now with the realization of how miserable she really was. Would have been better if we hadn’t run into each other. But even as she thought it, she knew she didn’t mean it. ********************** Spike wandered around the little living room, wondering how he had gotten there. He never expected to meet her again. Then to meet her and have her want to catch up with him was just… inconceivable. Of all the things that could have come out of her mouth at that moment, an invitation to go drinking was about the last thing he expected. He wouldn’t have been surprised to get a punch in the nose or a tongue-lashing. He probably had those coming. From her tale so far, it sounded like he had a lot of explaining to do to justify his absence in her life. The idea that she had tried to honor his death in small ways came as a humbling surprise to the vampire. When he and Angel had gone to Rome, Andrew had seemed to indicate she was over both of them completely. Angel’s return to the land of the living had been news to him, and he had thoroughly expected to hear that they were living happily ever after. He couldn’t deny that he’d been pleased as punch to hear that she had tossed him out, and he wondered why the idea of her being divorced lifted his spirits so much. At the same time, there was no denying that she had changed. Immortal. Shit, that would mess with your head, especially after the whole resurrection thing. It was different when all your mates were also immortal, and you were evil so you didn’t tend to give a rat’s ass about most of them. But to be an immortal human, knowing your friends and family were going to age and die around you? He’d had no one left to mourn by the time he’d set off across Europe with Dru and the rest. No wonder she seems so… distant. He glanced at the bathroom door, but since it was still closed he took her up on her invitation and went to raid the fridge for a beer. The fridge contained a new six-pack of Corona, some yogurt, leftover take-out, some salad, and not a whole lot else. She clearly wasn’t into cooking, and apparently had overcome her aversion to beer. He grabbed two beers, found an opener in the drawer of random utensils that must have come with the apartment, and went to sit down in the living room. Buffy finally emerged, her face carefully controlled. “Thanks,” she said as she took the beer he offered and sat down in an armchair while Spike sprawled on the couch. “So when we last left our heroine, she had become estranged from her sister,” he said with a lame attempt at humor. “What happened next?” “Nothing all that interesting,” Buffy said. “Let’s see... um, Faith and Robin got hitched a few years after Sunnydale. She’s still a walking attitude, but Robin seems to be able to handle it. Xander’s married –to a Slayer named Mindy. I guess he was so used to hanging around Slayers it just seemed natural to hook up with one. Willow’s still doing magic stuff for the Council. She’s pretty big in those circles.” “She still with what’s her name? Kennedy?” Spike tried to keep his voice neutral, but his memory of Kennedy was one of an annoying smart mouth who needed to be put in her place. “God, no. They broke up pretty soon after Sunnydale, and I don’t think anyone was particularly upset about it.” Buffy sipped her beer and added, “Sort of weird how time has been divided into Before Sunnydale and After Sunnydale. We could say ‘the year 1 BS’… well, no, that would sound weird. Never mind.” Spike chuckled. “I see your grasp of the English language is as interesting as ever.” “Yeah, well, not like I practice much. I don’t really interact with a lot of people these days. Or at least, the people I interact with tend to come to a dusty end.” She shrugged for the hundredth time that night and drank some more. God, what happened to you? Spike wanted to ask. It was like when she came back from the dead. She just seemed to be sleepwalking through life, going through the motions again. True, she seemed infinitely more functional than she had been back then, but this emotionless, matter of fact recitation of the intervening years made him wonder if he was talking to some less pleasant version of the Bot. “So now you just, what, do free-lance slaying for the Council?” “That’s the job description,” she replied. “Go to place x, kill everything demony, repeat ad infinitum.” She looked over at him curiously. “Enough about me. When did you get back to this dimension?” Spike blew out a long breath. “Where to begin?” “Well, why not begin with that whole ‘getting sucked into a demon dimension’ thing and go from there.” So she doesn’t want to talk about the year after Sunnyhell disappeared, I guess. He shrugged and joined her in avoiding the elephant in the room. “Well, all hell broke loose in LA, literally when we went after the Circle of the Black Thorn. They sent every demon in the dictionary at us. There was a fucking dragon for God’s sake.” He shuddered again at the memory. “How many of there were you? I only heard about you and Angel, and what’s her name…” “Ilyria,” Spike said. “That’s about all there was left. Wesley was gone before the final attack. Gunn – one of the team from way back – he was injured already. Lasted about fifteen minutes before he went down.” His voice faltered a little as he remembered the defeated look in Gunn’s eyes in that split second before he fell for the last time. He took a long drink mentally toasting his fallen comrade. “I’m sorry,” Buffy said, with a voice that held genuine emotion. “We all knew what we were getting into. Still hurt.” Spike ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before continuing his story. “Anyhow, the battle was total madness. Surrounded on all sides, no time to think. Then at some point Ilyria stopped fighting and grabbed some… medallion or something off one of the demons. Turns out it was some sort of amulet that could let her focus her power. There was this bright light then… I don’t know what. Like being in a washing machine or something. I hit the ground, and I was still surrounded by demons, but now I was somewhere else. Blue – sorry, Ilyria. Bint had blue skin in her real form, and I never could call anyone by their proper name.” “That’s true,” Buffy said with a little chuckle. “I think if you ever called all of us by our given names in one day there would be an apocalypse or something.” “Must be a vampire thing,” he agreed. “Anyway, turns out we were in some other demon dimension. No particular advantage for me and Blue, but we saved the city I guess. We fought until we could get away and hole up for a while to rest and heal. Spent a few years there, fighting and hiding. Learned to live on demon blood, which makes pig blood look like fucking ambrosia, let me tell you.” “How did you get back?” Buffy wondered. “Ilyria again,” Spike replied. “We eventually got to the point that the demon population had been knocked down pretty low. One of the more intelligent demon leader types finally decided to try to come to terms with us They promised to stay out of the Earth’s dimension if we promised to just get out of their hair. They did some ritual, sacrificed one of their own, cast some spell to ensure that any demon of their bunch that broke the truce would die horribly, and we called it good enough and left. I don’t know where Blue went. There was another flash, and I woke up in the same bloody alley in LA.” “When was that?” “About three years ago.” Buffy’s eyes boggled. “You were fighting demons for six years?” “Give or take.” Spike took another drink. “What did you do then?” Buffy was sitting curled up, like a child hearing a bedtime story despite the beer she kept sipping at. “I tried to figure out if anyone else had survived. I poked around LA, found nothing. Ended up in Las Vegas where I found Lorne – demon friend of ours who took off before the last battle. He wasn’t too keen to renew an acquaintance with anyone from back then, but he did tell me that Angel had survived, although I guess he hadn’t heard about the human thing, and he didn’t know where Angel was. Then I went looking for you.” Buffy looked surprised. “Why?” She seemed like she genuinely couldn’t fathom a reason for him to seek her out. Because God help me I still love you after all these years. Figuring that she didn’t want to hear that he said, “I didn’t know what else to do. I guess I just wanted to… I don’t know, make sure you were doing well.” “You were pretty stealthy about it.” “I ran into Vi in Memphis,” Spike explained. “She’s the one who told me you were married, at least the last she heard.” “Yeah, I really hadn’t kept in touch with her much,” Buffy admitted. “Her info was a little out of date.” “I see that now,” Spike said with a hint of a sigh. “But at the time I figured you were taken care of, so I started wandering around, fighting demons and such. Ended up down in the wilds of Brazil for a while. Turns out there are some native cultures there who will gladly keep a vampire supplied in animal blood in exchange for protection against demons. Spent a couple of years down there.” “What made you come back north?” Spike shrugged. “Got a little bored, ran out of demons to kill. I’ve been working my way back to the US over the past year or so. “ “And now you’re in Phoenix.” Buffy’s expression was thoughtful as she stared into her nearly empty bottle. “Same as you.” Her expression was maddeningly unreadable. He had made a study of this woman back in the day, and used to know her moods seemingly before she did. But she was so quiet and closed off from everything, and he wasn’t sure what to make of her. Was she angry at him? Depressed? She was lonely, he’d got that, but beyond that he had no clue what to say to her. Buffy finished her beer and asked him if he wanted another. Nodding as he finished the last of his bottle, he watched her get up and walk, mostly straight, to the kitchen to return with two more beers. “When did you start drinking, Slayer?” he asked as he accepted the next round. “Few years ago. Just developed a taste for it. Gives me something to look forward to after a patrol.” “Seems like your tolerance has increased,” he observed. “I seem to recall someone who got completely hammered at my tomb one night long ago.” “I almost recall that night,” Buffy quipped. “Tell me more tales of your travels,” she added after another swig. The two of them talked, trading battle stories for a long time. The elephant of their relationship remained firmly ignored, but Spike was happy just to hear her voice. After all those years among demons, villagers, and strangers the sound of a familiar voice was more than welcome. He boggled a bit at her catalog of fights with this demon and that demon, her description of injuries that healed again and again. But throughout the whole conversation she seemed to be talking about someone else, as if Buffy didn’t really exist anymore, just a shell that looked like her. It troubled him greatly, but he had no idea how to address it. So he talked on and on, until the beer was gone. “What time is it?” he asked at some point. His vampire senses were prickling with that sensation that meant morning was near. “Not sure,” Buffy said. She got up and went to the kitchen to look at the clock on the microwave, looking much more unsteady on her feet this time “It’s 5:30 in the morning,” she said when she returned. Reluctantly Spike said, “I guess I have to go if I’m going to avoid getting caught by the sunrise.” Truthfully, he hated leaving her. To hear her voice, to see that shiny golden hair after all those years was balm to the soul, even if it was never going to go beyond conversation. “Stay,” Buffy said suddenly. “You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch – the shades in here have a habit of snapping back up without warning, which sort of sucks from the sunlight avoidance perspective.” “I don’t want to impose,” he began. “You’re not. Imposing.” Speech seemed to be a little difficult to come by for the Slayer after that much beer. “But I… I’d like to… talk more. Before you go. Please?” The last bit came out in a small voice, as if she was afraid to hear his answer. “Sure,” he said, smiling to put her at ease. “And thanks for putting me up.” “No problem,” she said, relief evident in her voice. She made her way to the bedroom, closed the door, and came out a few minutes later in pajamas, carrying a pillow and a blanket. “Sorry, there’s no extra blanket. Think you’ll be okay with just the sheet?” “Of course. Dead man, remember? I’m supposed to be covered with a sheet.” “You move too much to be a dead man,” Buffy said. She yawned then. “I’m pretty beat. See you in the morning?” “Yeah. Good night, Slayer.” “’Night.” Spike watched for a moment as she arranged the couch to her liking then turned off the light. He turned and went into the bedroom, shutting the door. Looking around he saw plain but serviceable furniture and a full size bed. On the bedside table were two small framed pictures – the only personal items he had seen so far. One was of Dawn, a brown haired man, and a tiny infant with a pink headband around her head. The other was a tow headed boy with one front tooth missing and Buffy’s eyes. Can’t believe she’s a mother. Can’t believe she’d let him go. He and his own mother had been so close, and Buffy and Joyce had been as well. To see Buffy walk away from that to live this solitary existence was jarring. Gently replacing the picture he stripped and climbed into bed, turning out the light as he did so. He lay on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling for a long time. TBC |
| Chapter #2 - Chapter 2 |
| Disclaimer: Everything is Joss Whedon's, not mine. Thanks again to Sanity Fair for cleaning up my commas. This is a short little piece - only two chapters, but it wouldn't leave my head, so I had to write it down. Enjoy. ******************** Chapter 2 ******************** Buffy had passed out fairly rapidly on the couch, given the combination of beer and having been up for nearly eighteen hours. For the first time in a few years she dreamed about Sunnydale, about Spike standing there, glowing with an almost holy light, looking like an avenging angel as their hands linked and burned. She tossed and turned, never quite waking up but just replaying the tape over and over. The dreams had been a constant for the first couple years. She had told no one how every night Spike burned while she told him she loved him and was rejected. The cave collapsed and buried him as she watched, night after night. Or she would be on the edge of the crater, and Spike would be standing in the center, burning in the sun, and no matter how fast she ran the crater was a chasm that couldn’t be crossed, and she always arrived to a pile of dust that evaporated in the wind. She finally woke up around two in the afternoon, and regretted it the moment she sat up. Her head was pounding, and she realized she had gone to sleep without brushing her teeth or showering. She felt gross as she stumbled to the kitchen to find a glass of water and some painkillers. She idly wondered for the umpteenth time why the Slayer healing didn’t seem to take care of hangovers. She started a pot of coffee before cautiously opening the bedroom door a crack. Since Spike appeared to be still sleeping she crept in, grabbed some clean clothes and headed to the shower. The hot water felt good as she stood there, trying to figure out what to do next. Spike is here. What do I do about it? Seeing him confirmed what she had suspected – she still cared deeply for him. She had settled for Steve then settled for solitude because no one could really fill the hole Spike had left behind. But he doesn’t love you anymore. You have no right to him. He hadn’t come back after Sunnydale. His parting words burned in her mind, “No you don’t, but thanks for saying it.” He hadn’t believed her. Why should he? She had used him; she had kissed Angel practically in front of him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Angel had implied that he had known about her affair with the Immortal. “I know you need someone who understands immortality,” he had said when he showed up at her doorstep. Spike had heard about that too. That would explain why he wasn’t running back to me after he got his body back. The water started cooling off, so she got out, still thinking while she toweled dry. Maybe she could ask him to stay in touch. She wouldn’t beg him to stay – that would be unfair. He would stay out of pity or some sense of duty if he did, and she couldn’t in good conscience tie him down again. But if she could just… call him sometimes. When the loneliness got too terrible, when she had those nights where she wanted to let a vampire drain her, just to see if that would finally release her from this never ending battle that she was too tired to fight. She couldn’t talk to the others anymore about this. Dawn was scared for her family, and Willow was busy, and Xander didn’t get it. But if she could just have an occasional immortal confidante, that might make it bearable. She combed her hair and got dressed, chewing her lip the whole time, afraid to hope. *********************** The sound of the bedroom door closing softly woke Spike. It had taken him ages to fall asleep. He had been content to lie there, reveling in Buffy’s scent covering the sheets, in the sound of her heartbeat in the next room. She’s here. I never thought to see her again. He found himself waiting for the other shoe to fall. At some point, she was going to bring up the fact that he hadn’t come to see her after he got his body back, after which she would probably throw him out on his ass. She had been too surprised last night, but it was coming. Can’t really blame her. I let her mourn me for no good reason. But it’s over now. I’m probably just bringing up bad memories for her. Best thing would be to get out of town before I hurt her again. He considered slipping out while she was showering but figured that was no way to repay her hospitality. She could have tossed him out, staked him, punched him in the nose and left, anything other than bringing him in for a drink. She at least deserved to get the chance to have her say. He got up and got dressed, wandering out into the apartment. He skirted the beam of sunlight that indeed landed right in the middle of the couch in order to take a seat in the armchair. He was hungry, but his demon would have to wait. Her fridge barely held food for her, let alone for a visiting vampire. The bathroom door opened and she came out, dressed and showered, albeit with circles under her eyes. “Morning,” she said, a little shyly. “Want some coffee?” “Thanks. Definitely take you up on that.” “Come into the kitchen. No windows in there.” He followed her into the tiny galley kitchen and perched on one of two stools at a built in table against one wall. She put some coffee in front of him and sat down with her own mug. “Hope you like it black. I don’t buy a lot of food usually.” “I noticed,” he said. “What do you live on? Air?” “I tend to eat out a fair amount. It’s sort of a drag cooking for one. Always too many leftovers.” They sipped their coffee in silence for a moment or two. Then Buffy said, “Where are you off to next?” Spike shrugged. “Don’t have a plan really,” he admitted. “Never seen the Grand Canyon. Maybe I’ll head up that way. How about you?” Buffy shrugged in turn. “I have to finish cleaning out these Coralis. Then I guess I’ll call Giles and see where he needs me next.” “Don’t you ever take a break?” Spike asked, noting that in the daytime she looked even more colorless and pale somehow. “Not really. I usually find someone to visit at Christmas. Otherwise, I just slay, relocate, slay some more. I’ve become quite the expert in moving. I can get everything in two suitcases and a carry-on, and I can pack in about ten minutes, if I need to. I’ve pared down to the essentials.” “I noticed your pictures. Your boy looks just like you,” Spike mentioned. Buffy smiled a little. “Not really. His face is all Steve. But he does have my hair and eyes. I guess he’s into sports and stuff.” Her smile faded quickly. She got up and went to the fridge saying, “Do you want anything?” as she rummaged inside. This girl has avoidance down to a choreographed ballet, Spike mused. “Unless you have some leftover blood, I’ll stick to coffee.” Buffy came back with some yogurt and a bagel. Spike watched her as she ate, avoiding his eyes for the most part. “I could help you with the Coralis you know. Not like I have anything pressing at present.” Buffy looked up and swallowed. “I appreciate that. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I mean I don’t want to hold you up if you want to go.” “I understand, Slayer,” Spike sighed. “As soon as the sun goes down I’ll get out of your hair, I promise.” He finished his coffee and went to the sink to rinse it out. He turned back to see that Buffy’s face had fallen a bit, and she was staring deep into her yogurt cup, as if trying to find the mysteries of the universe within. Spike found himself puzzled by her behavior. Is she trying to get rid of me or not? To break the awkward silence he said, “Do you mind if I use your shower?” “Go ahead,” she said. “Towels are in the cabinet in there.” He thanked her and was soon shutting the bathroom door, not seeing the tears that trickled down her cheeks the minute his back was turned. ***************** As soon as she heard the shower come on she pushed away her coffee cup, put her head down on her arms, and cried. She fought to be silent about it, chewing her lip raw as she shook and wept. Please don’t leave me. I’m so tired. Please. But she knew it was hopeless. She sat up and got a paper towel to wipe off her face, carefully checking in the bedroom mirror to make sure that it didn’t look like she had been crying. He doesn’t need me guilt tripping him into staying. She went into the living room and turned on the TV to some game show, curling up on the couch. Spike came out with tousled curls, looking very easy on the eyes. Buffy couldn’t help the faint smile that came to her lips. “What made you decide to go natural again?” “Peroxide is in short supply in demon dimensions, believe it or not,” Spike replied, ruefully running his hand through his hair. “When I got back it felt like too much work, so I left it.” “Ah,” she said. Spike sat down in the armchair and they both turned to the TV for a few minutes. Still watching Vanna White Buffy asked, “So you’re off to the Grand Canyon next, you said?” Spike scratched his head thoughtfully. “Not particularly sure. Never really have any destination in mind. Just sort of point my bike where the mood strikes me.” “You got another bike?” “Yeah. Won it off some demon in a poker game. I had to pretend I was mad because he didn’t have kittens.” Another half smile came and went in a flash. Talking to him is so easy. Her stomach clenched at the thought that soon he would walk out that door and she would be back to her empty existence. “Can I… is there any way I can reach you?” Spike looked at her curiously. “I did manage to pick up a cell phone in my travels,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?” Buffy blushed slightly, and she stumbled over her words. “It’s… it’s been good talking to you. I’d like to keep in touch. Unless you’d rather not, in which case…” “When did you and I become such cowards, Slayer?” *********************** When Spike got out of the shower it had been painfully obvious that Buffy had been crying and was trying desperately to hide it. She was curled up, defensive, carefully avoiding anything that seemed like she was trying to talk about their relationship. At first he thought it was her trying to find a polite way to get him out of there quickly, but then she asked if they could keep in touch. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore and blurted out, “When did you and I become such cowards, Slayer?” Buffy jumped, confused and startled. “Cowards?” As he sprawled in the chair, he looked her over. She’s too thin. She’s got circles under her eyes big as hockey pucks. Looks fucking miserable, but won’t say anything. What the hell is going on? “Look at the two of us. We’ve saved the bloody world a dozen times, fought every demon in the catalog, died and came back more times than anyone has a right to, and yet here we sit, unable to actually say what we’re thinking.” Stiffening, Buffy said, “What… what do you think I’m thinking?” “I’m thinking you’re looking for a polite way to throw me out on my ass.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, blue eyes boring into hers. “I mean, you have every right to be pissed at me. I didn’t have the decency to tell you I was back – any of the times I was back. I just can’t figure out why you’re being so polite to me and all. You’ve never had any trouble telling me exactly what you think of me before. Why now?” Buffy’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s not it. Not at all.” Her voice was still too controlled, like she was squeezing every word out through a space in her throat that was too small. Spike’s mouth hung open as he tried to figure her out. “Then… then what? You can tell me. I can take it.” Buffy stood up suddenly and walked over to the window, staring out into the lengthening afternoon shadows. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to me anymore. You… you’ve moved on. I get that. I don’t want you to see the pathetic nothing I’ve turned out to be and feel sorry for me.” Her voice wobbled a little, and she cleared her throat. “I never gave you anything. I took and took from you. You deserve better. You’ve suffered enough.” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, waiting for him to agree with her. Spike’s chin threatened to hit the floor as his mouth dropped open wider. She wasn’t trying to get rid of him. She was trying to do the right thing by him, at whatever cost to herself. Oh, Slayer. He stood up and went over to her, avoiding the patch of sunlight and gently putting his hand on her shoulder. At his touch her whole frame shuddered, and she turned to him. “Come here,” he whispered, and he pulled her gently into an embrace. As his arms encircled her she lost it and clutched at him, burying her face in his shirt and shaking. “Shh, Buffy. I’ve got you.” “It’s been so long,” she whispered. “No one’s…” Her voice trailed off and she burrowed deeper into his chest, still vibrating with emotion. With a wrenching feeling Spike realized that she meant that no one had held her, talked to her, or cared for her in far, far too long. He stroked her blonde hair, closing his eyes and just feeling her nearness. Wordlessly he maneuvered them over to sit on the couch, still holding her close. “Talk to me, Slayer. Tell me.” His quiet statement seemed to open a floodgate. With her eyes squeezed shut and her arms clutching him tight words started spilling out. “I was so proud of you. I missed you so much. When I found out that I was never going to die, that I was going to be trapped forever in this body, in this life, I wished with all my heart that you were here because you’d understand. No one really got it. It was like, ‘Hey great! Now you can slay without worrying!’ I tried to call Angel once, but he didn’t have time to talk. The Immortal didn’t really care about me, he just wanted to do a Slayer.” A morning in an abandoned house replayed in Spike’s head: Is that what this is about? Doing a Slayer? “Wankers, both of them,” he muttered. Buffy continued as if she hadn’t heard, the words flowing out in a torrent. “Then to find out that you had been there all along and didn’t… didn’t want to talk to me and that I was never going to get a chance to tell you I was sorry about the amulet and kissing Angel and all that…” “Buffy.” “…and you didn’t believe me, and I understand why, but it was true, I did love you and I never stopped, and it hurt so much…” “Buffy,” he repeated, and this time she heard him and stopped, looking up at him fearfully, like she was expecting to be rejected. “I was wrong.” “No,” she protested. “You were right. I’m not safe to be around, physically or emotionally. The first Slayer was right – death is my gift. I get people killed, I drive them away…” “Bollocks,” he interrupted with more force than he had yet. “You listen to me now. When I first popped out of that amulet I was a ghost. Couldn’t touch anything, kept bloody disappearing all the time. The first thing I did was ask about you.” Her eyes widened at his statement, but she said nothing. “By the time I got my body back I had convinced myself that I had a purpose, helping Angel and his crew. Wanted you to remember me as a hero. Didn’t want to be an anchor around your neck.” “No. You were never… “ She couldn’t speak for a moment. Finally, in a voice barely audible even to the vampire she whispered, “I love you. I waited too long to tell you. I love you, but you need to go and I don’t want to hold you back anymore. But know that I love you. When you’re out there, just remember that, okay?” She started crying in earnest then, as if ten years of pent up tears were all being let loose at once. “Do you want me to leave?” Spike asked. When she hesitated he added, “Tell me what you want, Slayer. Not what you think I want. I want to know what Buffy wants.” Still she couldn’t bring herself to say anything until he put his hand under her chin and lifted her tearstained face. “Please,” he said in the tenderest of whispers. “I want… I want you to stay,” she said in a small voice. “I have no right to ask you to. You don’t owe me anything. But I just don’t want to be alone anymore. Please.” In response he gathered her close. After rocking her back and forth for a few minutes he murmured into her tangled hair. “I get it, you know. If you live forever, you’ve got to watch everyone else die. Must seem like the only way to avoid endless funerals is to go it alone.” She nodded slightly, still curled up in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Buffy. I never would have left you alone. I never meant to be one of those fools that left you. I didn’t realize I was needed.” “You were. You are.” Her voice was barely understandable. “Look at me, pet.” Gasping and wiping her eyes with the back of her hands she looked up at him, afraid of what she might see. “Buffy, I love you. I never stopped.” He bent and kissed her then, slowly and gently. When he pulled back he saw that her eyes were finally focused on him, even though she was still practically vibrating with nervous tension. “You mean it?” she asked uncertainly. “It’s not just… pity? Or duty? I don’t want…” “Listen,” he said, his voice low and caressing. “As I told you before, you’re the one, Buffy. I know you don’t want to be the one sometimes. But for me, there’s never been anyone in my life even close to you. Not Drusilla, not anyone. No one meant so much. Nobody else made me a better person. Nobody else gave me purpose and focus like you have. Even when I was away from you, I wanted to be worthy of you. Wanted to fight on your side, even if I was never going to see you again.” “This is… it’s too much,” Buffy cried, shaking her head. “I was so… resigned to being alone. It’s just, oh Spike.” She clung to him again, squeezing him so tightly that he was grateful he didn’t need to actually breathe. He clung to her in return as they both wept tears of joy and relief and regret for wasted years. Finally, Buffy’s tears subsided and she sat up, still looking like she expected to wake up from this dream at any moment. “I’ll be right back.” She reluctantly released him and went into the bathroom, leaving Spike happily shell-shocked. Buffy loves me. Nothing else matters. ******************* Buffy went into the bathroom to blow her nose and wipe her face. She once more looked at herself in the mirror. She looked terrible, she thought, with her reddened eyes and nose, but for the first time in a long time she didn’t get depressed at the sight of her unchanged face. Spike loves me. He doesn’t want to leave. He understands. The wave of gratitude and relief nearly made her knees buckle. Still, she didn’t quite want to let herself believe that Spike was here, and he wanted to stay. She was certain that when she walked out into the living room it would be empty. Taking a deep breath she opened the door. As she emerged from the bathroom Spike stood up from the sofa and approached her. They drifted toward each other slowly, as if each expected the other to vanish in a puff of smoke at any moment. At last they were standing face to face. Buffy searched his features for any sign that he was doing this out of some sense of obligation or pity. All she found in those blue eyes was love and a pent-up longing. Despite this she was afraid to move. How does he want this to go? Without a word, Spike’s hands slowly came up and cupped her face, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks and his fingers running through her hair. Slowly, as if to give her every chance to back out, he bent his head to hers and kissed her. Buffy’s arms wound their way around him as she returned the kiss. His lips were still as soft as she remembered and when his tongue gently traced her lips they parted automatically, her breath catching as her body remembered old sensations. It’s been so long. God, it’s been so long, her brain kept repeating. She hadn’t kissed anyone in longer than she could remember, and she had been celibate since her marriage broke up. Now Spike’s scent surrounded her, his cool mouth was on hers, and it was like being rescued from a deserted island. The kiss went on and on until they finally came up for air, foreheads touching, both of them gasping. “Buffy,” Spike breathed. “Do you want..?” He was trembling, uncertain. In response Buffy took his hand and led him into the bedroom. With slightly shaky fingers she pulled off her shirt and unbuttoned her jeans. He moved in and whispered, “Let me. Please.” He kissed her again, unhooking her bra one-handed while his other hand gently cradled the back of her head. Pulling away he slowly eased the bra straps down her arms, feasting his eyes on her exposed breasts for a moment before leaning in to capture first one nipple then the other with his lips, causing Buffy to moan softly at his touch. She dragged her hands up his sides, pulling gently at his t-shirt until he let go of her long enough for her to pull it over his head. She ran her hands down his bare chest, planting a line of kisses down to his navel while he nearly crooned in ecstasy. When she reached his jeans she unbuttoned them, continuing her kisses downward until her nose was nestled in the curly patch of hair exposed by his open fly. Spike tugged gently on her arms to bring her back up to his level, holding her close as they both reveled in the feeling of skin on skin. They relieved each other of their jeans while they kissed until at last they were both naked. Buffy broke off the kiss, and without once dropping her eyes from Spike lay back on the bed, tugging his hand gently until he climbed onto the bed next to her. Their hands moved slowly over each other, remembering every curve and every sensitive spot. They both had more scars, but otherwise this was the same Spike that Buffy remembered. She found herself wishing she had more hands to trace every muscle, to revel in the strength of his body. Her hand drifted down to his erection, and he groaned as she rubbed her thumb over the little spot near the base that drove him crazy. He returned the favor by sliding a finger down into the pool of moisture growing between her legs then fingering her clit with the feathery dancing movements that sent her nerves soaring. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and begged, “Please. I need you inside me. Please.” Still moving like a man in a dream he rolled on top of her, linked his hands in hers and entered her with infinite slowness. “Fuck, you’re so tight, love.” He closed his eyes to drink in the sensation of sinking inch by inch into her depths. “Forgot how big you are,” Buffy gasped. Looking down at her with concern he said, “Am I hurting you?” “No, not at all. It’s good.” And it was – it had been so many years since a man had taken her, and Steve’s cock had nothing on Spike. They moved together, his cock hitting her in all the well remembered places, her muscles gripping him tight. This was like nothing that had gone before. They were hyper-focused on each other, drinking in every sigh, every slightest movement, melding into one being. She pulled his head down and traced the veins on his neck with her tongue, eliciting a growl from the vampire. “Christ, that’s good.” He returned the favor, nibbling and sucking until she was writhing beneath him. “Spike… oh God… I can’t…” “Yes, baby. Yes. Let go… got you. Let go.” “Spike!” she screamed as her body convulsed with her release. With a roar Spike followed her down into a spiral of ecstasy. Spike all but collapsed on her, gasping with unnecessary breaths. He shifted to the side so as not to crush her, gathering her close as they both rode out the aftershocks. As Buffy gradually came back to herself she realized that Spike was trembling like a leaf in her arms. “Spike?” “Yeah?” “You’re shaking.” “Yeah,” he repeated. He brought his hand up to stroke her face, opening those piercing blue eyes to feast on the sight of her. “Been a long time for me too. Forgot how good it could feel.” Buffy put her hand over his, reveling in his touch. “How long has it been for you?” “Since before the battle in LA,” Spike admitted. The shaking calmed as they snuggled closer, reassuring each other that they were really there. “You mean you and Blue never…” “No. She was a goddess and a warrior, but had no interest in me that way. Carried the torch for Wesley a bit but generally had no need for anything approximating human relationships.” He leaned over and kissed her eyelids, her nose, her lips. “I had forgotten what I was missing. Got so used to doing without, you know?” “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” She kissed him in return, gently. For a long time they said nothing else, content just to hold each other close. After a while Spike’s erection stirred again and their cuddling turned once more to making love. They stayed side by side, with Buffy’s leg thrown over Spike’s hip as he moved slowly within her. Every touch was exquisite as they reacquainted themselves with each other. As the heat built between them they rolled so that Buffy was on top, riding him with a maddeningly slow pace that had him growling with need. Smiling, she took pity on him and gradually sped up her movements, squeezing him rhythmically with all her muscles. He threw his head back and babbled, “Fuck, Slayer… Buffy… shit that’s so good… Buffy… lover… love you.” With a throaty moan Buffy sank deeper with each thrust until she felt Spike begin to convulse beneath her. “Yes… Spike!” she practically screamed as her own orgasm overtook her. The high lasted even longer, which Buffy hadn’t thought was possible until she finally came to rest, draped over Spike like a blanket. “God, that was…” Words utterly failed her as she panted into his white chest. “Yes it was,” Spike agreed with a slight chuckle at her lack of vocabulary. Buffy ran her hand back and forth over his skin, wondering if she had ever felt this good. She honestly couldn’t remember if Angel or Riley had ever made her feel this content. It frightened her a bit. Is this real? Will this last? Oh God, how am I going to live if I have to go back to the way it was? Knowing what I could have… She chewed her lip as a frown line appeared between her eyes. “Spike?” “Yes, love,” the vampire answered, idly playing with her hair. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but deadly serious. “If you ever need to leave, will you kill me first?” Spike shifted to be able to look her in the eyes. “What?” She looked away, addressing her next remarks to his chest. “I know that… people leave. No one stays forever. I just don’t want to go back to living alone again. So I just want you to promise you’ll…” “No.” His voice was stern, almost angry, and she jumped and sat up, shying away from him slightly. He grabbed her shoulders and made her face him. “You listen to me, Buffy Summers. I’ll never leave you. I was faithful to Dru for a century, and she treated me like crap half the time. She left me. I don’t leave.” Buffy looked at him, his jaw set, his eyes tinged with gold. “I want to believe you,” she said haltingly. “Then do,” he replied with a little less heat. “I love you. Won’t let you go unless you throw me out or I dust.” She shuddered a bit, not having considered that possibility. “If you dusted I don’t know what I’d do.” Spike leaned against the headboard and pulled her into his lap, cradling her. They sat for a while, a few tears trickling slowly down Buffy’s cheeks until Spike broke the silence by saying perhaps the last thing Buffy expected to hear. “What do you know about claims?” ************************ Christ, I had no idea how much I missed her. When he had entered her, it had been like a homecoming. Everything was deeply familiar, but the sweetness and the mutual tenderness were new and he found himself craving it like an instantly addictive drug. But then as he had floated on the after effects of their lovemaking she had dragged him down to earth with her request. Kill her? Never could before when I hated her, why would she think I could do it now? At the same time, he understood what she was getting at. Fear of being alone was eating at her – any fool could see that. He knew how it was, because Lord knows he was feeling it himself. He’d had no idea how alone he was until he had sunk into her depths and breathed in her long forgotten scent. Her pain and isolation were palpable. She had lost so much, so many times. But for once his demon actually had a good idea. Claim her. Bind the two of us together forever. Once the idea came to him, he had to voice it. “What do you know about claims?” A puzzled look came over Buffy’s face. “They’re a ritual between vampires, right?” “A mating ritual of sorts,” he explained. “It links them, mentally and emotionally. It’s pretty rare, because it’s permanent. The only thing that can break it is death, and the death of one usually means the death of the other.” The puzzled look only deepened. “But what does that mean for us? Do you want to..?” He shook his head, seeing where she was going. “No Buffy, I don’t want to turn you. Wouldn’t do that to someone I loved. But as far as I know, it can work with just one vampire. The effects might not be as pronounced, but…” “You would do that? Bind yourself to me forever?” Buffy interrupted, her jaw dropping in disbelief. “If you’d have me,” Spike replied. He took her small hands in his. “This is irrevocable though. I can understand if you’d want to think about it…” “I don’t need to think about it at all,” Buffy said decisively, clutching at his hands. “To never have to be alone again, to not have to survive everyone? I never thought I could even wish for that.” She looked down at their linked hands and said in a small voice, “Are you sure you want me? After the way I treated you?” In response, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. “That’s all water under the bridge now, pet. I love you, and I want to be with you.” He met her eyes and searched them, looking for any hesitation and finding nothing. Buffy shifted so that she was sitting on his lap, her legs wrapped around him and her hands stroking his face. “I love you, William. Tell me what to do.” “You’ll know,” he answered. He kissed her again and didn’t stop. The caresses went on until once more Buffy could feel Spike’s hardness rising beneath her. Spike put his hands on her hips and coaxed her upward, settling her on his erection and sinking into her warmth. They rocked together in perfect synchrony, hands roaming, tongues mingling. Spike waited until he could feel her reaching the edge then vamped out against her neck. Buffy felt the shift of his face and tilted her head to allow her hair to fall away. He nibbled delicately down the length of her jugular, causing her to gasp and moan. Finally as he felt her muscles begin to clamp down on his cock he pierced her neck as gently as he could. “God, Spike, yes!” she practically screamed as Spike drank a long, delicious draught of her life blood. “Mine,” he purred. “You’re mine. Always mine.” “Yours, oh God, yours, Spike it’s so good… yours… I’m yours.” She regained enough control to bring her head down and bite his neck in return. The coppery taste spread over her tongue and her mind swirled with colors, like it had when she had tasted Dracula’s blood so long ago. “Mine. Please be mine,” she pleaded. “Fuck, I’m yours, oh fuck…yours…Buffy!” He pulled her hips down hard as he rammed completely into her, throwing his head back and roaring out his climax. It was like a key in a lock. Both of their minds suddenly became aware of an additional presence, vague at first but increasing in strength, like a radio tuning in. Years of loneliness surfaced in both of their memories, vanishing in a sea of emotion. It was always you, Slayer. No one else. Always you, from the moment I saw you. I know, Spike, came the answer in his mind. All these years I loved you. When I was marrying another man I loved you. Just you. They slid down under the covers, drowning in bliss. ******************* They spent the entire night in each other’s arms, kissing, making love, and silently talking it all out. Spike heard all about the long year after the battle in LA, when Buffy had alternated between hating Spike and blaming herself for driving him away. Spike experienced her memories of feeling like she was living a lie as she lay in the arms of the father of her child while desperately wishing he was someone else. She had distanced herself from everyone, consciously and unconsciously, as the reality of immortality sank deeper and deeper into her psyche. The break with her sister should have been a blow, but instead it had been added to the endless list of disappointments with hardly a comment. Spike found it almost physically painful to know how she had walled herself off and sunk into loneliness and silence. Spike’s experience had been easier in some ways. Kill or be killed was something he understood; fighting was what he was good at. But he too had memories of being alone, sleeping on the ground in some cave or hideout, Ilyria physically near but emotionally absent. He recalled those nights when he replayed their wild couplings in his mind to find some sort of consolation. When he returned and found out that she was married he had run off to South America to escape the pain of that knowledge. Somehow it had been even worse than seeing her with the Immortal, because it seemed to indicate that she had finally chosen the vaunted normal life and turned her back on the Slayer lifestyle for good. He imagined that she would finally get the rest she deserved, and drifted south to find something to do. As he recounted his struggles to be of service to the villagers who took him in Buffy’s pride in him filled his mind over their link. I feel like a right ass, he said silently at one point. I shouldn’t have given up so easily. Neither of us couldn’t have known. Maybe we needed the years in between to be able to let go of all the baggage, she responded. Their heads were side by side on the pillows as they drank in each other’s eyes and communicated telepathically. Maybe we did, he concurred. He smiled as she stifled a yawn. Tired, pet? A little. Wonder why? It’s not like we haven’t been making love for six hours or something. Buffy smiled at that. New record then? Guess so. He grinned back and kissed her. Why don’t we get some sleep? Good idea. Buffy snuggled into his chest. You’ll really be there in the morning? You know I will. Sleep well my love. Love you too, she replied as her thoughts drifted off into a faint buzz, and she fell asleep. Spike kissed her once more on the top of her head and joined her in slumber. ******************** It had been nearly three in the morning when they fell asleep, and it was after noon when they woke. Buffy opened her eyes to find that Spike was already awake, watching her with an adoring look on his face. “Morning, love.” Buffy squinted at the clock. “Afternoon you mean.” “How did you sleep?” “Better than I have in ages,” Buffy answered truthfully. “I could use a shower though.” “Want company?” Spike asked with a leer. Like you have to ask, she chided as she tackled him for a kiss. The shower lasted long enough for the hot water to run out and the shower curtain to get ripped as they pleasured each other. When they finally finished and dried off they made their way, breathless, into the kitchen. “I am starving,” Buffy declared, rummaging in her fridge. “Surprised you’re not dehydrated,” Spike purred, coming up behind her. He reached around and cupped her breast with one hand and her sex with the other. “You’re so wet all the time, you should be wrung dry.” “Mmm,” she moaned. “Cut it out or I’m going to pass out from lack of food” “At which point I can have my way with you,” Spike teased. “Pig.” “Ah, there’s the girl I remember.” Spike grinned and let her go with a little nibble at her neck. “Behave,” she mock-scolded. “Or no more Slayer for you.” “Yes ma’am,” he said meekly. He sat down and watched her while she pulled out the least scary of her leftovers, heated them up, and sat down to eat them. “When I’m done with this I’ll go out and get you something,” she said. “I don’t think a couple of sips of Slayer blood is going to keep you going for that long.” “You’d be surprised. You Slayers are pretty tasty. Bloody walking aphrodisiacs, all of you.” “Lucky for me then,” she grinned. She finished eating and cleared the table. Spike busied himself making a pot of coffee while she went and threw on some clothes. “I’ll be back soon,” she said, giving him a quick but passionate kiss before scuttling out the door. Spike smiled and shook his head. You’re amazing, love. You too. The telepathy was certainly a unique sensation, although he found that as she got further away it was harder to pick up her thoughts. He made a pot of coffee, his thoughts in a complete whirl. She loves me. She wants me here. Holy shit. When the coffee pot beeped he shook himself out of his reverie and poured himself a cup, sipping at it while he wandered the tiny apartment. The living room and kitchen had nothing unique about them whatsoever. He wandered back to the bathroom, still filled with the scent of Buffy’s favorite shampoo. The small collection of toiletries was nothing like the bewildering array of bottles and tubes that had stacked up when Buffy and Dawn and the witches were all sharing a bathroom. It was like Buffy had been camping, but without the sleeping bag and pup tent. Still sipping his coffee he entered the bedroom. The smell of sex was still heavy in the air and it made him hard just remembering the previous night. There had been no one but his own hands for so many years that he had forgotten how good it could be. Now that he had remembered, he had no desire to leave, ever. Gonna take care of her. Not going to fuck things up this time. He found himself once more staring into the picture of her son. It still seemed so wrong and sad for this boy, who despite all her protestations was the spitting image of the Slayer, not to know his true origins. Bloody shame it is. What is? Buffy was entering the apartment and had clearly caught his last thought. She put her bags down in the kitchen and walked into the bedroom. “What’s wrong?” “Still don’t think it’s right that your boy doesn’t know who his mother is,” Spike said. Buffy took the picture from him and studied her son’s face. “Maybe someday he’ll know. But for now, I want him to grow up innocent of all this. His father was a watcher. He can keep him safe. I don’t… I don’t want him to know that monsters are real yet.” She set down the picture, and Spike could feel the wistful sadness that ran through her mind. You’re one in a million, you know that? He gathered her close, and her arms wound around him. Not so bad yourself, she responded. She closed her eyes and rested her head contentedly on his chest. What’s the plan now? After we get you fed up, let’s wait until nightfall and get rid of the rest of those Corali demons. After that, I don’t care. Just stay with me. Always. He bent down to capture her lips. They spent the rest of the afternoon snacking, making love, sharing memories, and making love again. When darkness fell they went and retrieved Spike’s small stash of weapons and other odds and ends then went out after the Corali demons. So it was that they found themselves standing at the door of an old warehouse, preparing to break in the door. Ready, Randy? Buffy projected, with a little smirk at the memory. No place else I’d rather be, Joan. Spike smiled back at her. Love you, you know that. I know. And I love you too. Shall we kill things now? Spike stepped back and graciously extended his hand. After you, my lady. With matching grins they kicked in the door and started a new chapter in their story. The End |