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Prologue: The Spell
“Let the healing power begin. Let my will be safe again. As these words of peace are spoken, let this harmful spell be broken.”
Buffy’s head felt a little fuzzy, and her eyes were closed, but she didn’t need eyes or superior brain power to discern one important fact: she was laying on top of – and kissing – a very built guy, whose lips were…
They were amazing. Buffy mentally dubbed them the Lips of Good, and made no move to remove herself from them. Sure, for all she knew she was about to be stabbed in the back or something (Hellmouth here! Waking up without knowing where you are was generally bad), but… Lips of Good! Amazing, heavenly Lips of Good!
Buffy stopped thinking altogether when the Lips of Good became more forceful at the same time as The Hands entered the equation, finding her breasts, her own hands – already under the guy’s shirt and feeling his rock-hard abs – faltering in their tracing of The Body as her entire body melted into Slayer-goo.
Buffy was dimly aware of other noises, people yelling her name, but at the moment she didn’t care. How often would Lips of Good come around for just any girl, let alone the Slayer? She would be enjoying them as long as possible.
Buffy suddenly became aware of It between her legs, nestled comfortably in the center of her crotch, all hard and big and… gah!
Before Buffy could do anything that she desperately wanted to do though, the Lips of Good pulled away, and she opened her eyes in an attempt to relocate them. Those lips would not be getting away from this Slayer any time soon!
Then again, they might indeed. The first thing Buffy saw when she opened her eyes was a deep cerulean blue, from the sexy bedroom eyes of the possessor of the Lips of Good. But the second thing she noticed was the way that The Hands were pushing her away and the mouth, her mouth with the Lips of Good, was twisting in disgust, the head turning to the side and spitting, all the while yelling, “Oh, bloody fucking hell, Christ on a bleedin’ stick, get off me!”
It took Buffy another second to realize she was sitting on Spike, but only about 0.3 seconds to scramble away from him in shock. The moment she was gone, he leapt to his feet and went to the corner, gagging and spitting and still continuing to swear fluently with a mix of British curses and insults, German, Fyarl, Spanish, and several other languages, both demon and human.
Buffy stared at Spike, frozen. He had the Lips of Good. Spike. Spike, the Big Bad, had the Lips of Good! And – and The Body, and The Hands – and the It!
It was simply impossible. Buffy was having a horrible, demon-brought-on, hallucination, and it obviously meant nothing, not even that her subconscious even dared to have a hint of a thought that Spike could have Lips of Good… or any of the rest!
Buffy had just managed to calm herself to the point of speaking when Willow rushed up to her. “Are you okay, Buffy? I’m so sorry! And I don’t know why the reversal spell didn’t kick in right away for you, but it’s my entire fault. I’m going to bury you in guilt cookies, I promise. I’m so, so, so, so sorry, Buffy.”
Buffy’s eyes met Willow’s, her expression dazed and horrified. “I’m not dreaming?” she begged, but the redhead shook her head, and Buffy moaned. “Oh god. Spike lips. Lips of G- Spike.” She shook her head, unable to merge the two concepts and nearly speaking her mind out loud and embarrassing herself to death.
Buffy stood, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. Xander and Anya were waiting by the door, Spike standing in between them and looking disgusted still. He was tied up – how they got rope Buffy didn’t know – and Xander took great pleasure in dragging the bleach-blond to the car.
When they all got in, Buffy ended up in the seat next to Spike, due mostly to the silent but deadly glares Spike had been sending Willow nonstop that scared the Wicca away.
Buffy sat stiffly, at first attempting to scrunch over close to Willow on her other side, but soon giving up and sitting facing forward, sneaking glances at Spike’s face, turned away from her to look out the window, and trying not to focus on the waves of tingling heat spreading through her entire body from where his right thigh was pressed against her left.
Buffy’s head felt a little fuzzy, and her eyes were closed, but she didn’t need eyes or superior brain power to discern one important fact: she was laying on top of – and kissing – a very built guy, whose lips were…
They were amazing. Buffy mentally dubbed them the Lips of Good, and made no move to remove herself from them. Sure, for all she knew she was about to be stabbed in the back or something (Hellmouth here! Waking up without knowing where you are was generally bad), but… Lips of Good! Amazing, heavenly Lips of Good!
Buffy stopped thinking altogether when the Lips of Good became more forceful at the same time as The Hands entered the equation, finding her breasts, her own hands – already under the guy’s shirt and feeling his rock-hard abs – faltering in their tracing of The Body as her entire body melted into Slayer-goo.
Buffy was dimly aware of other noises, people yelling her name, but at the moment she didn’t care. How often would Lips of Good come around for just any girl, let alone the Slayer? She would be enjoying them as long as possible.
Buffy suddenly became aware of It between her legs, nestled comfortably in the center of her crotch, all hard and big and… gah!
Before Buffy could do anything that she desperately wanted to do though, the Lips of Good pulled away, and she opened her eyes in an attempt to relocate them. Those lips would not be getting away from this Slayer any time soon!
Then again, they might indeed. The first thing Buffy saw when she opened her eyes was a deep cerulean blue, from the sexy bedroom eyes of the possessor of the Lips of Good. But the second thing she noticed was the way that The Hands were pushing her away and the mouth, her mouth with the Lips of Good, was twisting in disgust, the head turning to the side and spitting, all the while yelling, “Oh, bloody fucking hell, Christ on a bleedin’ stick, get off me!”
It took Buffy another second to realize she was sitting on Spike, but only about 0.3 seconds to scramble away from him in shock. The moment she was gone, he leapt to his feet and went to the corner, gagging and spitting and still continuing to swear fluently with a mix of British curses and insults, German, Fyarl, Spanish, and several other languages, both demon and human.
Buffy stared at Spike, frozen. He had the Lips of Good. Spike. Spike, the Big Bad, had the Lips of Good! And – and The Body, and The Hands – and the It!
It was simply impossible. Buffy was having a horrible, demon-brought-on, hallucination, and it obviously meant nothing, not even that her subconscious even dared to have a hint of a thought that Spike could have Lips of Good… or any of the rest!
Buffy had just managed to calm herself to the point of speaking when Willow rushed up to her. “Are you okay, Buffy? I’m so sorry! And I don’t know why the reversal spell didn’t kick in right away for you, but it’s my entire fault. I’m going to bury you in guilt cookies, I promise. I’m so, so, so, so sorry, Buffy.”
Buffy’s eyes met Willow’s, her expression dazed and horrified. “I’m not dreaming?” she begged, but the redhead shook her head, and Buffy moaned. “Oh god. Spike lips. Lips of G- Spike.” She shook her head, unable to merge the two concepts and nearly speaking her mind out loud and embarrassing herself to death.
Buffy stood, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. Xander and Anya were waiting by the door, Spike standing in between them and looking disgusted still. He was tied up – how they got rope Buffy didn’t know – and Xander took great pleasure in dragging the bleach-blond to the car.
When they all got in, Buffy ended up in the seat next to Spike, due mostly to the silent but deadly glares Spike had been sending Willow nonstop that scared the Wicca away.
Buffy sat stiffly, at first attempting to scrunch over close to Willow on her other side, but soon giving up and sitting facing forward, sneaking glances at Spike’s face, turned away from her to look out the window, and trying not to focus on the waves of tingling heat spreading through her entire body from where his right thigh was pressed against her left.
Part I: Let The Healing Power Begin
Buffy moaned. “Do I have to, Giles? My mom isn’t home; I’d be all alone with Spike for a week! Please, please, pretty please say no?”
Giles just gave her a stern look. “Buffy, please listen to me. You have to do this for several reasons. One, Spike can fight demons; he can be infinitely helpful to us in this way, and even act as your backup. Two, I’m beginning to believe that there could be a higher purpose to all this. Perhaps Spike was meant to be on the side of good, and the chip was no coincidence. He did come to us for help, after all. I can’t think of another vampire that would do so.”
Buffy shrugged, acknowledging the reasoning, as her Watcher added in a last word. “And three… I believe he’s mastered the art of annoying me to levels even Xander could never hope to reach. I’m this close to dusting him myself. And on top of all that, I have a visitor, so I need him out of the house.”
Buffy wanted to argue, to throw a fit, but what exactly could she say? ‘I’m sorry Giles, I want to go against everything that makes sense because the evil chipped vampire we’re talking about kissed me under a spell, and yeah, he was disgusted, but I’ve been having dreams about it every night for the past week, and I can’t bear to be alone with him ever again in case I jump him?’
Maybe not the best idea.
Five hours later, a very uncomfortable Buffy was walking through the darkened Restfield cemetery, accompanied by the resident evil undead hottie… scratch that last word.
Spike walked along, bored, hands stuffed in his great big pockets, and head tilted towards the ground. Soon he overtook her, however, which was fine with Buffy… and she was not trying to ogle his butt through his duster!
He stopped suddenly in front of an old crypt and frowned thoughtfully, walking inside. Buffy sighed, but didn’t attempt to ask, simply following him and standing in the doorway, leaning on her axe.
Spike examined the crypt for a while before turning back to Buffy and raising an eyebrow. “What d’you think? I bet I could patch it up quite nicely…”
Buffy couldn’t help laughing. “This dump?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” Taking out a cigarette and lighting it, he gestured around at the crypt, “Get rid of the dirt, clear out some of the skeletons, and add in a couch, telly, maybe one of those mini fridges. It’s got potential.”
Spike walked forward, brushing past Buffy, who scurried out of the way. “That’s your problem, Summers. You can’t see the potential, you’re so obsessed with how things are now or how bad they might be. How you save the world with that attitude I don’t know.”
Buffy furrowed her brow at the vampire. He is not being insightful, or sexy. Neither of ‘em! And I’m not at all jealous of that friggin cigarette that he’s rolling around in his mouth, and sucking on, and – stuff like that. Obviously.
She remained silent, and Spike had just let out a sigh of boredom when his head whipped to the side and a feral grin lit up his face. “Demon to the right!” he called happily, dashing away.
Buffy followed as quickly as she could, but her lack of vampire speed, her somewhat heavy axe, and her tight leather pants both conspired to make sure that she arrived on the scene nearly two minutes after Spike.
Buffy gasped in shock. Spike was busy fending off a green tentacled beast that looked like it belonged in 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, and was about three times his size. Buffy quickly leapt to his aid and sliced off a tentacle reaching at him from behind with an axe she had brought. Spike was fighting with only his fists, and so was at a distinct disadvantage.
At the moment he was attempting to rip out the tentacles, but each one seemed to have a life of its own. After a minute of silent fighting, Spike called out, “You seen it?”
Buffy staggered back and sliced at tentacle attempting to wrap around her neck. “Seen what?”
Spike roared in frustration. “One of the tentacles, it’s pink. That’s the one that’ll kill this git; just chop it in half.”
Buffy nodded. “Can do.” There were another few minutes of silent battle, before Buffy stepped the wrong way, and both she and her axe were flung twenty feet away.
Clambering to her feet, Buffy groaned and ran forward, searching for Spike, who had seemed to vanish inside the mass of green limbs. Then she caught sight of him, right in the middle, near the maw. He was being held tight by at least ten tentacles, and slowly being drawn closer.
And right by his foot was the pink tentacle.
Buffy dashed forward, leapt in the air, and swung the axe right through the pink tentacle just as the bottoms of Spike’s boots started to fizzle and hiss from the acidic saliva.
The entire creature melted, leaving Buffy and Spike alone. Tired, bloody, and – in Spike’s case – recently almost killed, but still standing.
Buffy turned from where she had been standing and let her axe drop, a hole burned right through the steel where a large dollop of saliva hit it. Glancing at the axe and then at Spike’s shoes, Buffy frowned. “You nearly died.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah.”
She looked up to meet Spike’s gaze, and for a long moment neither moved at all, just staring at each-other. Then, before either of them could really understand what was going on, they were in each-other’s arms, mouths fused together.
Buffy’s arms slid around Spike’s neck, and his around her waist, as they each pulled the other close, every inch of their bodies pressed together. Buffy opened her mouth, and right away his tongue slid in, battling with hers in a way that made her entire body feel on fire.
Their hands didn’t stay still for long either, Buffy’s coming up to fist in Spike’s impossibly soft hair, while his went to clutch her ass and lift her closer to him.
In response, Buffy lifted up her legs to wrap around his waist, causing Spike to stumble backwards and trip over a low headstone. He landed flat on his back on the ground, Buffy straddling him, their mouths not parting once the whole time.
They both kissed ferociously, just like they fought, but all too soon for either it was over; again, just like their fights. As if following some invisible cue, Buffy and Spike each pulled back, panting.
Spike didn’t spit or shout this time; he just gasped for air, laying his head back on the cool grass. “Oh god…”
Buffy didn’t even bother to roll off of Spike, instead just burying her head into his chest. Both self-consciously removed their hands from the other, then there was a long pause in which the only sound was their ragged breathing.
After nearly five minutes, Spike spoke reluctantly, eyes still closed and head laid back. “We’re gonna have to sort this, Slayer.”
Buffy, face still buried in his chest, made a noise that sounded like “nnyagah”.
Spike slowly lifted his head up from the grass to look at the Slayer on top of him. “Get up. We’ve got to – we need to suss this out.”
When a very reluctant Buffy got off of him and sat on a tombstone, Spike began to pace back and forth, lighting a cigarette and running a hand through his well-mussed hair.
“It was just the… no, no after-effects on the rest. Maybe it’s a reaction to this demon – and last was the spell… or it’s just fighting, and that was it both times…”
Buffy sighed, getting up from her tombstone. “Stop pacing, you’re getting me dizzy.”
Spike stopped and turned to face her, waving his cigarette. “Why are you so calm? You shouldn’t be so bloody calm!”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Calm down. What are you doing?”
Spike gaped at her, his cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth. “What do you mean, what am I doing? We hate each-other, and then suddenly we’re snogging like a couple of randy teenagers! Something is wrong here! I’m trying to figure out why -”
Buffy opened her mouth to say something, her momentary calm dissipating, but Spike interrupted himself mid-sentence, “It was – whatever it was doesn’t matter. It was just a fluke. Hate sex. Well, hate snogging. It happens, and then you go back to normal, and hate each-other.” He breathed deeply on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and smushing it under his boot.
Buffy, who had been frantically thinking this whole time, alternating between ‘Lips of Good! Need Lips of Good!’ and ‘wrong, wrong, wrong!’ nodded. “Yeah. It – it was. I hate you. And you hate me. And we just m-made out because we were… were… uh, horny! After killing the demon. That’s it! We still hate each-other, though.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Right.”
This entire time, they had been walking, and now they had reached Buffy’s house. Both glanced at it nervously, then Buffy walked in, followed by Spike.
“You’ll, uh, you can, um, sleep on the couch. Yeah. And I’ll just, I won’t… Look, don’t leave and I won’t do… something bad to you!”
Spike nodded once. “Yeah. Alright. Yeah. OK.”
Buffy nodded determinedly, and turned to walk up the stairs. Having a second thought, she turned back to Spike, opening her mouth to speak.
And flew into his arms.
He was quick to respond, grabbing her and opening his mouth to welcome her, the Lips of Good once again doing their magic, making Buffy melt in his arms and have to put her arms around his neck for support.
Buffy closed her eyes, becoming lost in the newest kiss. Though it had started fierce and hungry like the last, it had somehow switched to a gentler kiss, more… exploratory. Yes, that was the word. Spike was taking his time to explore her mouth thoroughly, and Buffy was doing the same with him.
Of course, it managed to be hot as all hell, too.
Finally, the kiss ended, and once again, Buffy and Spike didn’t pull away immediately. Her arms still wound around his neck, and his around her back, their foreheads rested against each-other, and their lips were millimeters apart.
Buffy spoke first, gazing into his eyes. “Um, don’t forget to tack up a blanket over the window. They’re in the hall closet.”
Spike chuckled, then replied, “Ta Goldilocks. Don’t particularly fancy wakin’ up a pile of dust.”
Buffy ran her tongue over her lips unconsciously, also wetting his because their mouths were so close. “Yeah. Yeah. Because then who’d I be able to threaten?” she asked with a pout.
Spike’s eyes were drawn to her bottom lip as he muttered words, only half-realizing what he was saying. “Oh… pouty. Look at that lip…”
Buffy felt as though she was starving for something as necessary as air, something no-one else could give her – only Spike. “Gonna get it?”
Spike smirked, “Oh yeah…” he leant forward the tiniest amount, and pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it slightly with his teeth and tongue before she turned it into a real kiss.
This kiss was the most gentle yet, their mouths moving slowly and sweetly, nothing like any of the wish spell’s loud smacking kisses, or even the lusty ones from earlier. This kiss was that of lovers… not hate sex, fuck buddies, or boyfriend and girlfriend, but lovers.
Then they both pulled back, and each turned in a different direction, Buffy to the stairs, and Spike back down the hall to the living room, first stopping to pick up some blankets from the hall closet to cover the windows.
Both stayed awake for hours, sleepless.
Giles just gave her a stern look. “Buffy, please listen to me. You have to do this for several reasons. One, Spike can fight demons; he can be infinitely helpful to us in this way, and even act as your backup. Two, I’m beginning to believe that there could be a higher purpose to all this. Perhaps Spike was meant to be on the side of good, and the chip was no coincidence. He did come to us for help, after all. I can’t think of another vampire that would do so.”
Buffy shrugged, acknowledging the reasoning, as her Watcher added in a last word. “And three… I believe he’s mastered the art of annoying me to levels even Xander could never hope to reach. I’m this close to dusting him myself. And on top of all that, I have a visitor, so I need him out of the house.”
Buffy wanted to argue, to throw a fit, but what exactly could she say? ‘I’m sorry Giles, I want to go against everything that makes sense because the evil chipped vampire we’re talking about kissed me under a spell, and yeah, he was disgusted, but I’ve been having dreams about it every night for the past week, and I can’t bear to be alone with him ever again in case I jump him?’
Maybe not the best idea.
Five hours later, a very uncomfortable Buffy was walking through the darkened Restfield cemetery, accompanied by the resident evil undead hottie… scratch that last word.
Spike walked along, bored, hands stuffed in his great big pockets, and head tilted towards the ground. Soon he overtook her, however, which was fine with Buffy… and she was not trying to ogle his butt through his duster!
He stopped suddenly in front of an old crypt and frowned thoughtfully, walking inside. Buffy sighed, but didn’t attempt to ask, simply following him and standing in the doorway, leaning on her axe.
Spike examined the crypt for a while before turning back to Buffy and raising an eyebrow. “What d’you think? I bet I could patch it up quite nicely…”
Buffy couldn’t help laughing. “This dump?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” Taking out a cigarette and lighting it, he gestured around at the crypt, “Get rid of the dirt, clear out some of the skeletons, and add in a couch, telly, maybe one of those mini fridges. It’s got potential.”
Spike walked forward, brushing past Buffy, who scurried out of the way. “That’s your problem, Summers. You can’t see the potential, you’re so obsessed with how things are now or how bad they might be. How you save the world with that attitude I don’t know.”
Buffy furrowed her brow at the vampire. He is not being insightful, or sexy. Neither of ‘em! And I’m not at all jealous of that friggin cigarette that he’s rolling around in his mouth, and sucking on, and – stuff like that. Obviously.
She remained silent, and Spike had just let out a sigh of boredom when his head whipped to the side and a feral grin lit up his face. “Demon to the right!” he called happily, dashing away.
Buffy followed as quickly as she could, but her lack of vampire speed, her somewhat heavy axe, and her tight leather pants both conspired to make sure that she arrived on the scene nearly two minutes after Spike.
Buffy gasped in shock. Spike was busy fending off a green tentacled beast that looked like it belonged in 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, and was about three times his size. Buffy quickly leapt to his aid and sliced off a tentacle reaching at him from behind with an axe she had brought. Spike was fighting with only his fists, and so was at a distinct disadvantage.
At the moment he was attempting to rip out the tentacles, but each one seemed to have a life of its own. After a minute of silent fighting, Spike called out, “You seen it?”
Buffy staggered back and sliced at tentacle attempting to wrap around her neck. “Seen what?”
Spike roared in frustration. “One of the tentacles, it’s pink. That’s the one that’ll kill this git; just chop it in half.”
Buffy nodded. “Can do.” There were another few minutes of silent battle, before Buffy stepped the wrong way, and both she and her axe were flung twenty feet away.
Clambering to her feet, Buffy groaned and ran forward, searching for Spike, who had seemed to vanish inside the mass of green limbs. Then she caught sight of him, right in the middle, near the maw. He was being held tight by at least ten tentacles, and slowly being drawn closer.
And right by his foot was the pink tentacle.
Buffy dashed forward, leapt in the air, and swung the axe right through the pink tentacle just as the bottoms of Spike’s boots started to fizzle and hiss from the acidic saliva.
The entire creature melted, leaving Buffy and Spike alone. Tired, bloody, and – in Spike’s case – recently almost killed, but still standing.
Buffy turned from where she had been standing and let her axe drop, a hole burned right through the steel where a large dollop of saliva hit it. Glancing at the axe and then at Spike’s shoes, Buffy frowned. “You nearly died.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah.”
She looked up to meet Spike’s gaze, and for a long moment neither moved at all, just staring at each-other. Then, before either of them could really understand what was going on, they were in each-other’s arms, mouths fused together.
Buffy’s arms slid around Spike’s neck, and his around her waist, as they each pulled the other close, every inch of their bodies pressed together. Buffy opened her mouth, and right away his tongue slid in, battling with hers in a way that made her entire body feel on fire.
Their hands didn’t stay still for long either, Buffy’s coming up to fist in Spike’s impossibly soft hair, while his went to clutch her ass and lift her closer to him.
In response, Buffy lifted up her legs to wrap around his waist, causing Spike to stumble backwards and trip over a low headstone. He landed flat on his back on the ground, Buffy straddling him, their mouths not parting once the whole time.
They both kissed ferociously, just like they fought, but all too soon for either it was over; again, just like their fights. As if following some invisible cue, Buffy and Spike each pulled back, panting.
Spike didn’t spit or shout this time; he just gasped for air, laying his head back on the cool grass. “Oh god…”
Buffy didn’t even bother to roll off of Spike, instead just burying her head into his chest. Both self-consciously removed their hands from the other, then there was a long pause in which the only sound was their ragged breathing.
After nearly five minutes, Spike spoke reluctantly, eyes still closed and head laid back. “We’re gonna have to sort this, Slayer.”
Buffy, face still buried in his chest, made a noise that sounded like “nnyagah”.
Spike slowly lifted his head up from the grass to look at the Slayer on top of him. “Get up. We’ve got to – we need to suss this out.”
When a very reluctant Buffy got off of him and sat on a tombstone, Spike began to pace back and forth, lighting a cigarette and running a hand through his well-mussed hair.
“It was just the… no, no after-effects on the rest. Maybe it’s a reaction to this demon – and last was the spell… or it’s just fighting, and that was it both times…”
Buffy sighed, getting up from her tombstone. “Stop pacing, you’re getting me dizzy.”
Spike stopped and turned to face her, waving his cigarette. “Why are you so calm? You shouldn’t be so bloody calm!”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Calm down. What are you doing?”
Spike gaped at her, his cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth. “What do you mean, what am I doing? We hate each-other, and then suddenly we’re snogging like a couple of randy teenagers! Something is wrong here! I’m trying to figure out why -”
Buffy opened her mouth to say something, her momentary calm dissipating, but Spike interrupted himself mid-sentence, “It was – whatever it was doesn’t matter. It was just a fluke. Hate sex. Well, hate snogging. It happens, and then you go back to normal, and hate each-other.” He breathed deeply on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and smushing it under his boot.
Buffy, who had been frantically thinking this whole time, alternating between ‘Lips of Good! Need Lips of Good!’ and ‘wrong, wrong, wrong!’ nodded. “Yeah. It – it was. I hate you. And you hate me. And we just m-made out because we were… were… uh, horny! After killing the demon. That’s it! We still hate each-other, though.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Right.”
This entire time, they had been walking, and now they had reached Buffy’s house. Both glanced at it nervously, then Buffy walked in, followed by Spike.
“You’ll, uh, you can, um, sleep on the couch. Yeah. And I’ll just, I won’t… Look, don’t leave and I won’t do… something bad to you!”
Spike nodded once. “Yeah. Alright. Yeah. OK.”
Buffy nodded determinedly, and turned to walk up the stairs. Having a second thought, she turned back to Spike, opening her mouth to speak.
And flew into his arms.
He was quick to respond, grabbing her and opening his mouth to welcome her, the Lips of Good once again doing their magic, making Buffy melt in his arms and have to put her arms around his neck for support.
Buffy closed her eyes, becoming lost in the newest kiss. Though it had started fierce and hungry like the last, it had somehow switched to a gentler kiss, more… exploratory. Yes, that was the word. Spike was taking his time to explore her mouth thoroughly, and Buffy was doing the same with him.
Of course, it managed to be hot as all hell, too.
Finally, the kiss ended, and once again, Buffy and Spike didn’t pull away immediately. Her arms still wound around his neck, and his around her back, their foreheads rested against each-other, and their lips were millimeters apart.
Buffy spoke first, gazing into his eyes. “Um, don’t forget to tack up a blanket over the window. They’re in the hall closet.”
Spike chuckled, then replied, “Ta Goldilocks. Don’t particularly fancy wakin’ up a pile of dust.”
Buffy ran her tongue over her lips unconsciously, also wetting his because their mouths were so close. “Yeah. Yeah. Because then who’d I be able to threaten?” she asked with a pout.
Spike’s eyes were drawn to her bottom lip as he muttered words, only half-realizing what he was saying. “Oh… pouty. Look at that lip…”
Buffy felt as though she was starving for something as necessary as air, something no-one else could give her – only Spike. “Gonna get it?”
Spike smirked, “Oh yeah…” he leant forward the tiniest amount, and pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it slightly with his teeth and tongue before she turned it into a real kiss.
This kiss was the most gentle yet, their mouths moving slowly and sweetly, nothing like any of the wish spell’s loud smacking kisses, or even the lusty ones from earlier. This kiss was that of lovers… not hate sex, fuck buddies, or boyfriend and girlfriend, but lovers.
Then they both pulled back, and each turned in a different direction, Buffy to the stairs, and Spike back down the hall to the living room, first stopping to pick up some blankets from the hall closet to cover the windows.
Both stayed awake for hours, sleepless.
Part II: Let My Will Be Safe Again
“I love you, Buffy…”
Buffy sat up straight in her bed, clutching Mr. Gordo to her chest in horror. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Just a dream… just a dream…”
She slipped silently from bed, padding down the stairs to the kitchen to make herself a cup of hot chocolate and clear her mind of the dre – nightmare!
Walking silently into the kitchen, she stopped dead at the sight of a shirtless Spike boiling
something on the stove. As she stood silently and watched him, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she felt a warm flush spread through her, something unrelated to lust. A surge of affection filled Buffy, affection for the evil soulless vampire.
…The vampire that was turning around at that exact moment, taking the pan off the no-longer-on stove. Upon seeing Buffy, he jumped back. “Slayer!”
Buffy nodded at the pan, ignoring her blushing cheeks. “Whatcha makin’?”
Spike shrugged, still looking tense. “Hot chocolate.”
Buffy smiled nervously. “C-cool. I’ll have some too, okay?”
She moved past him to pull down the mugs and mini marshmallows. Turning around, she felt his eyes on her and began to babble nervously.
“Here. Two mugs, and a bag of marshmallows. I don’t know why they’re mini. Mom keeps on buying the mini ones, even though both she and I like the big ones better. I don’t know why. But here they are…”
She held out the marshmallows, which Spike took. He answered her, voice soft. “I love mini marshmallows.”
Buffy’s startled eyes shot to his. “Oh.”
Spike set the marshmallows down and took a small step closer to her. “We need to talk, Slayer.”
Buffy backed up until she hit the counter. “W-why?”
Spike prowled closer, eyes unreadable. “Why?” he asked quietly, tilting his head. “Let me think…”
Buffy’s hands twitched and she tried to pry her eyes away from his lips as he walked closer, his hands landing on the counter on either side of her and trapping her. “Maybe,” he continued, “Because – ”
Buffy suddenly reached up and snatched Spike’s head, pulling him close for a kiss. The moment his lips touched hers, she whimpered and pulled him even closer. Surprised, Spike didn’t respond for a moment, then he began to kiss back, his mouth opening to accept her questing tongue.
Buffy’s eyes fell closed and she let out a happy little sigh, her hands sliding into Spike’s hair. Spike fought to keep his eyes open even as he took the final step to press them close together and his hands left the countertop to hold her tight to him.
In between kisses, he spoke. “Because… we keep… mm… doing… this…”
Buffy murmured something against his mouth, which sounded like, “So?”
Spike’s lips quirked up at the corners and he kissed her harder, a hand fisting in her hair and tilting her head back a little more. “So… we really… shouldn’t. … It’s… hum… not…”
He trailed off, not finishing his sentence as he nibbled at her lips. Buffy moaned and a hand at his back pulled him closer. She pulled back a little, beginning to press kisses along his jawline.
“It’s not… what?” she asked, making her way to his neck and swirling her tongue around the scars where Drusilla had bit him to turn him.
Spike groaned, not answering. Buffy continued to kiss his neck, finally biting it lightly. At that, Spike jumped a little and pulled back only to plant an earth-shaking, life-changing, utterly needy kiss to her lips.
Buffy shivered, the kitchen around her disappearing, the world melting away. All that existed, all that needed to exist, was Spike. Spike’s naked chest pressed to hers, his muscles clenched and hard. Spike’s back underneath her fingers, smooth skin hiding steel strength. Spike’s hair, soft and silky, wrapped through the fingers of her other hand. His arms banded around her back, holding her safe in his embrace. His belt buckle digging into her stomach as he strained ever closer. And his lips.
God, his lips, moving smoothly against hers, custom-made to fit perfectly, to never leave her needy mouth. His tongue in her mouth, moving like no tongue should be able to move, evoking the sort of pleasure that belonged in trashy romance novel sex scenes, not in a kiss, almost fully clothed, in the kitchen. His mouth was perfect, his kiss pure sin, so sweet and bad that it was a wonder anyone did good.
Time spun into oblivion, the need for air gone; Buffy would gladly suffocate as long as he continued to kiss her like this.
Suddenly, his lips were torn away and reality began to rush back in. Buffy whimpered and opened her eyes, reaching for him, but he pulled away.
“It’s not right.” Spike stated, staring at Buffy.
She stared at him for a moment, lips tingling and head spinning, then nodded seriously. “I know.”
Then she was back on him, and their mouths were moving across each-other, hands frantically roaming to find bare skin. Spike pressed Buffy up against the counter and she hopped up to wrap her legs around his waist.
Spike groaned, stumbling out of the kitchen to fall onto the living room couch, pinning Buffy down. She moaned, “Spike…”
He groaned again, lifting his head away from her lips for a single moment to whisper her own name, “Buffy.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Buffy was alert the moment she woke up, fully aware of where she was and what had happened the night before. And, much to her surprise, she was okay with it.
Apparently, her bedmate was anything but.
Spike woke with a jerk, and upon seeing her face, he fell back with a cry, stumbling to his feet away from the couch, eyes wide.
He took in the sight of a blushing Buffy covering herself with a blanket, then glanced down at his own naked form. “Oh no.”
It was all he seemed capable of saying, even as he danced away from Buffy, quickly shoving himself into his pants. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…”
Buffy blinked hard several times, feeling tears pricking her eyes. Apparently the run-from-Buffy-after-sex charm was still working. Well, at least Spike couldn’t turn more evil than he already was, and he hadn’t tricked her into anything. No, thought Buffy, if anyone had done any tricking in this situation, it was she. She’d been thinking about something like this since the will-be-done spell (and even then, she’d been the one to keep trying to kiss him as he pulled away), and when they’d suddenly started kissing, hadn’t it been Spike who wanted to talk about it, figure it out?
Yes, it had. Buffy had been the one who didn’t want to; in fact, she’d been the one to initiate that final kiss. Yes, he’d kissed back – but she’d grabbed him, when he was actively trying to figure out what was going on. Hell, he’d kept trying to talk to her, even through the kiss, and she’d asked him, ‘So?’ And he’d even said it outright. He had said, ‘This is wrong’, and Buffy had acknowledged that, and kissed him again anyway.
So, god, wasn’t it her fault? Buffy remembered him trying to figure things out, and her distracting him with the kisses that he apparently couldn’t resist despite what he wanted – and for a moment she felt a horrible temptation to actively try to distract him that way again; to just walk up to him and kiss him, and simply not let him get dressed and get away…
Spike had finally quieted, now he was finally dressed in his jeans and t-shirt, though he still had bare feet and tousled hair that clearly said he’d just gotten up. Now he was just staring at her. Buffy realized that he was probably in shock.
She stood, careful to keep her blanket covering her, and approached Spike. His eyes widened, and he backed up until he was actually hitting the wall – but he didn’t say a word.
Buffy didn’t have a plan of any kind. She was winging it, with no idea what was going on. The whole situation was crazy to begin with. How could either of them attempt to make sense of it?
But, as she looked at Spike again, confused, breathing hard, pressed against the wall like a cornered animal, and utterly gorgeous, she decided she didn’t want to. What she wanted to do right now was kiss him again, and god damn it, she was going to do just that, because this Slayer was overdue for some pleasure!
So she took a deep breath, licked her lips, and slowly, deliberately, pressed her body against his.
She could feel him trembling.
Spike didn’t move away from her, but he didn’t move any closer either, and when her lips brushed against his, a violent shudder wracked through his entire body. “What are you doing?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and disbelieving – but even so, the sound of it nearly made Buffy’s toes curl with longing.
She continued to lean forward, and slowly, his head moved back as hers moved forward, until it was pressed against the wall and Buffy stood on tiptoes; but their lips were still barely touching.
Buffy was still wrapped in the blanket alone, and she shifted slightly to hold it closed with only one hand, placing the other on Spike’s shoulder. At the touch, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Both his hands were pressed to the wall behind him.
Buffy looked straight in his deep blue eyes and spoke. “I’m kissing you.”
At the words, his eyes squeezed tight shut, and she heard him take in a sudden, gasping breath, felt it against her lips…
Then her hand on his shoulder was gripping through the t-shirt that she really didn’t like right now, and her eyes were fluttering closed too, and she was kissing him…
Yes. Buffy had definitely made the right decision just now.
Buffy sat up straight in her bed, clutching Mr. Gordo to her chest in horror. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Just a dream… just a dream…”
She slipped silently from bed, padding down the stairs to the kitchen to make herself a cup of hot chocolate and clear her mind of the dre – nightmare!
Walking silently into the kitchen, she stopped dead at the sight of a shirtless Spike boiling
something on the stove. As she stood silently and watched him, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she felt a warm flush spread through her, something unrelated to lust. A surge of affection filled Buffy, affection for the evil soulless vampire.
…The vampire that was turning around at that exact moment, taking the pan off the no-longer-on stove. Upon seeing Buffy, he jumped back. “Slayer!”
Buffy nodded at the pan, ignoring her blushing cheeks. “Whatcha makin’?”
Spike shrugged, still looking tense. “Hot chocolate.”
Buffy smiled nervously. “C-cool. I’ll have some too, okay?”
She moved past him to pull down the mugs and mini marshmallows. Turning around, she felt his eyes on her and began to babble nervously.
“Here. Two mugs, and a bag of marshmallows. I don’t know why they’re mini. Mom keeps on buying the mini ones, even though both she and I like the big ones better. I don’t know why. But here they are…”
She held out the marshmallows, which Spike took. He answered her, voice soft. “I love mini marshmallows.”
Buffy’s startled eyes shot to his. “Oh.”
Spike set the marshmallows down and took a small step closer to her. “We need to talk, Slayer.”
Buffy backed up until she hit the counter. “W-why?”
Spike prowled closer, eyes unreadable. “Why?” he asked quietly, tilting his head. “Let me think…”
Buffy’s hands twitched and she tried to pry her eyes away from his lips as he walked closer, his hands landing on the counter on either side of her and trapping her. “Maybe,” he continued, “Because – ”
Buffy suddenly reached up and snatched Spike’s head, pulling him close for a kiss. The moment his lips touched hers, she whimpered and pulled him even closer. Surprised, Spike didn’t respond for a moment, then he began to kiss back, his mouth opening to accept her questing tongue.
Buffy’s eyes fell closed and she let out a happy little sigh, her hands sliding into Spike’s hair. Spike fought to keep his eyes open even as he took the final step to press them close together and his hands left the countertop to hold her tight to him.
In between kisses, he spoke. “Because… we keep… mm… doing… this…”
Buffy murmured something against his mouth, which sounded like, “So?”
Spike’s lips quirked up at the corners and he kissed her harder, a hand fisting in her hair and tilting her head back a little more. “So… we really… shouldn’t. … It’s… hum… not…”
He trailed off, not finishing his sentence as he nibbled at her lips. Buffy moaned and a hand at his back pulled him closer. She pulled back a little, beginning to press kisses along his jawline.
“It’s not… what?” she asked, making her way to his neck and swirling her tongue around the scars where Drusilla had bit him to turn him.
Spike groaned, not answering. Buffy continued to kiss his neck, finally biting it lightly. At that, Spike jumped a little and pulled back only to plant an earth-shaking, life-changing, utterly needy kiss to her lips.
Buffy shivered, the kitchen around her disappearing, the world melting away. All that existed, all that needed to exist, was Spike. Spike’s naked chest pressed to hers, his muscles clenched and hard. Spike’s back underneath her fingers, smooth skin hiding steel strength. Spike’s hair, soft and silky, wrapped through the fingers of her other hand. His arms banded around her back, holding her safe in his embrace. His belt buckle digging into her stomach as he strained ever closer. And his lips.
God, his lips, moving smoothly against hers, custom-made to fit perfectly, to never leave her needy mouth. His tongue in her mouth, moving like no tongue should be able to move, evoking the sort of pleasure that belonged in trashy romance novel sex scenes, not in a kiss, almost fully clothed, in the kitchen. His mouth was perfect, his kiss pure sin, so sweet and bad that it was a wonder anyone did good.
Time spun into oblivion, the need for air gone; Buffy would gladly suffocate as long as he continued to kiss her like this.
Suddenly, his lips were torn away and reality began to rush back in. Buffy whimpered and opened her eyes, reaching for him, but he pulled away.
“It’s not right.” Spike stated, staring at Buffy.
She stared at him for a moment, lips tingling and head spinning, then nodded seriously. “I know.”
Then she was back on him, and their mouths were moving across each-other, hands frantically roaming to find bare skin. Spike pressed Buffy up against the counter and she hopped up to wrap her legs around his waist.
Spike groaned, stumbling out of the kitchen to fall onto the living room couch, pinning Buffy down. She moaned, “Spike…”
He groaned again, lifting his head away from her lips for a single moment to whisper her own name, “Buffy.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Buffy was alert the moment she woke up, fully aware of where she was and what had happened the night before. And, much to her surprise, she was okay with it.
Apparently, her bedmate was anything but.
Spike woke with a jerk, and upon seeing her face, he fell back with a cry, stumbling to his feet away from the couch, eyes wide.
He took in the sight of a blushing Buffy covering herself with a blanket, then glanced down at his own naked form. “Oh no.”
It was all he seemed capable of saying, even as he danced away from Buffy, quickly shoving himself into his pants. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…”
Buffy blinked hard several times, feeling tears pricking her eyes. Apparently the run-from-Buffy-after-sex charm was still working. Well, at least Spike couldn’t turn more evil than he already was, and he hadn’t tricked her into anything. No, thought Buffy, if anyone had done any tricking in this situation, it was she. She’d been thinking about something like this since the will-be-done spell (and even then, she’d been the one to keep trying to kiss him as he pulled away), and when they’d suddenly started kissing, hadn’t it been Spike who wanted to talk about it, figure it out?
Yes, it had. Buffy had been the one who didn’t want to; in fact, she’d been the one to initiate that final kiss. Yes, he’d kissed back – but she’d grabbed him, when he was actively trying to figure out what was going on. Hell, he’d kept trying to talk to her, even through the kiss, and she’d asked him, ‘So?’ And he’d even said it outright. He had said, ‘This is wrong’, and Buffy had acknowledged that, and kissed him again anyway.
So, god, wasn’t it her fault? Buffy remembered him trying to figure things out, and her distracting him with the kisses that he apparently couldn’t resist despite what he wanted – and for a moment she felt a horrible temptation to actively try to distract him that way again; to just walk up to him and kiss him, and simply not let him get dressed and get away…
Spike had finally quieted, now he was finally dressed in his jeans and t-shirt, though he still had bare feet and tousled hair that clearly said he’d just gotten up. Now he was just staring at her. Buffy realized that he was probably in shock.
She stood, careful to keep her blanket covering her, and approached Spike. His eyes widened, and he backed up until he was actually hitting the wall – but he didn’t say a word.
Buffy didn’t have a plan of any kind. She was winging it, with no idea what was going on. The whole situation was crazy to begin with. How could either of them attempt to make sense of it?
But, as she looked at Spike again, confused, breathing hard, pressed against the wall like a cornered animal, and utterly gorgeous, she decided she didn’t want to. What she wanted to do right now was kiss him again, and god damn it, she was going to do just that, because this Slayer was overdue for some pleasure!
So she took a deep breath, licked her lips, and slowly, deliberately, pressed her body against his.
She could feel him trembling.
Spike didn’t move away from her, but he didn’t move any closer either, and when her lips brushed against his, a violent shudder wracked through his entire body. “What are you doing?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and disbelieving – but even so, the sound of it nearly made Buffy’s toes curl with longing.
She continued to lean forward, and slowly, his head moved back as hers moved forward, until it was pressed against the wall and Buffy stood on tiptoes; but their lips were still barely touching.
Buffy was still wrapped in the blanket alone, and she shifted slightly to hold it closed with only one hand, placing the other on Spike’s shoulder. At the touch, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Both his hands were pressed to the wall behind him.
Buffy looked straight in his deep blue eyes and spoke. “I’m kissing you.”
At the words, his eyes squeezed tight shut, and she heard him take in a sudden, gasping breath, felt it against her lips…
Then her hand on his shoulder was gripping through the t-shirt that she really didn’t like right now, and her eyes were fluttering closed too, and she was kissing him…
Yes. Buffy had definitely made the right decision just now.
Part III: As These Words Of Peace Are Spoken
He was kissing her back.
Slowly, just barely, his lips almost not moving, but he was kissing her back, and that was enough for Buffy to feel heat erupt along all her limbs and waves of tingles flow through her.
Her hand on his shoulder slid up, around the back of his neck, and into his hair; she could actually feel Spike shaking slightly, but he didn’t pull away, even when her doing so pulled his head forward a little, away from the wall that seemed to be his anchor.
Buffy didn’t want him to have an anchor.
She let go of the blanket, not caring if it dropped to the ground, though of course it didn’t; she’d wrapped it tightly and besides, she was pressed hard against Spike, so hard that the pressure alone would hold the blanket up if necessary.
With the hand that had been holding the blanket, she reached for his hand; it was pressed hard against the wall, and had she looked, Buffy would have noticed that his fingers were white with pressure.
But she wasn’t looking. No, her eyes were closed, and she was kissing Spike, and as her hand captured his, pulling it off the wall, he kissed her back just a little more, his lips opening just a little, which meant that taking his hand was a very good move, because anything that made him kiss her more was good, and he was talking now…
Talking?
Buffy’s eyes opened slowly, and she didn’t pull back so much as pause, but even so for a second her own pounding heartbeat made it impossible to understand his words so she tuned in right in the middle of her own name.
“…ffy.”
“What?”
Spike’s eyes were still closed, his entire body motionless against hers, but his voice was deep and desperate. “We can’t do this, why are you doing this?”
Buffy finally pulled away a little – just enough so that their lips no longer touched. “I don’t know.”
Upon hearing that, Spike’s body shivered again and his eyes opened, but Buffy wasn’t done. It was the honesty train for her this morning, though why she had no idea… But the words crawled out of her mouth without her permission like a confession. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I want to. I’ve wanted to do this since that spell, and I don’t want to stop now just because we had sex last night. I just wanted to kiss you, and you don’t push me away when I kiss you, and you were leaving, so I kissed you, and you stopped leaving and you were just starting to kiss me again, and I need you to kiss me again. I don’t care if we can’t do this, I want to and I don’t care what you say, I’m not going to let you leave or even think straight if I can help it, so stop talking!”
And she leaned forward again and pressed her lips to his as hard as she could, her hands suddenly clutching hard to his hair and his hand, her body pressed up against his as hard as she could be.
And for a little while – such a short, blessed time! – Spike was kissing her back, as hard as last night, and he wasn’t motionless against the wall anymore; no, he was moving forward, wrapping his arms around her when Buffy became a little limp and once again she felt dizzy and out of control.
And it was perfect.
Buffy relaxed completely, kissing Spike, her eyes closed and limbs weak, not even noticing anymore when he moved them away from the wall and towards the couch, or when he set her down, kneeling over her to continue kissing her.
He was completely in charge of the situation once again; Buffy didn’t care about anything anymore, and she wouldn’t, not as long as she had these lips fixed to hers and this tongue in her mouth and this body touching hers, and Spike kissing her.
But then he wasn’t.
His lips were gone as suddenly as if they’d never been there, and it took Buffy a moment or two to realize that her hands were tied behind her back to the couch – when did that happen? – and Spike was sitting on her legs, looking down at her with a sly expression on his face.
Oh.
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*
“Let me go, damn it, Spike!”
Spike was ignoring her words completely. He watched her for a few seconds, before backing away, turning back to the rest of his clothes and finishing putting them all on. Then he looked at her again quickly, frowned, and left the room.
The fifteen minutes before he came back seemed like the longest fifteen minutes in the history of the universe. Buffy was suddenly beginning to realize that she had committed possibly the most stupid act ever done by a Slayer, stupid in two ways: first, she had allowed herself to be tied up, completely weaponless, in her own home with her own magically-enforced rope… by a chipped vampire that was currently harmless and was now free to leave town if he wished. Secondly, she had gotten drunk on Spike’s mouth and somehow decided she never wanted it to leave, and had acted on that, even telling Spike her thoughts, and now she was trapped as a result of her ridiculous actions.
Yes, they were ridiculous. What was she thinking? First of all, Spike’s reaction when he woke up should have shown her he in no way wanted to touch her again… and she should have realized that it was her reaction that was messed up.
And had she even thought through her own actions? She’d had an impulse, and she followed it. It never occurred to her that what she had essentially been asking Spike for was a long-term relationship, at least longer than a one-night stand. It was insane! Just last night, they had declared their hate to each other – what was she thinking?
And besides, this was Spike. Even assuming he had agreed, and they had continued to have some sort of relationship, how could she, the Slayer, in good conscience do so with a member of the (inherently evil when lacking a soul) undead, especially her ex-mortal enemy, the Slayer of Slayers?
She couldn’t, not really. She might want to, even now, even after thinking all this, but she couldn’t. And maybe, if he was going to kiss her again, maybe she would do it anyway – she might even stand up to her friends for this feeling, this bliss every time their lips met… But Spike wasn’t going to kiss her.
Maybe she could start hating him again, and get back to normal, if he just would too. Yes, she should hope he would. She should hope he would come back in the room, say something snarky, and then leave town altogether. Even explaining to Giles why she was tied up, wearing only a blanket, on her couch, with Spike gone, would be easier than the alternative.
She should hope all that happened.
But she didn’t.
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*
When he returned, Buffy had finally quieted, hunching up and staring at her feet. At the sound of his footsteps, her entire face turned lobster red, and she heard a chuckle from the doorway.
Yay. He was going for the ‘snark, then run’ option. This was good. Good.
“I’d let you up to get dressed, but I have a feeling you’re not going to sit still for me once you’re out of the ropes.”
Sit still for me?
“So, instead…”
Spike tossed something on Buffy’s lap, obscuring her view of her toes. Blinking down at it, she realized it was a sleeveless sundress. She didn’t move.
“I can’t talk to you when you’re sittin’ there in a blanket.”
That’s the idea, Buffy thought. She was still completely confused, but she knew one thing: she really, really, really didn’t want to have this conversation.
“Get dressed, Slayer.”
Spike’s tone brooked no argument, so Buffy awkwardly began to twist her way into the dress, eyes squeezed tightly shut in shame. Spike had probably chosen it because it was sleeveless – this meant she didn’t have to have her hands free to put it on or wear it.
Finally she stilled, and went back to staring at her toes.
Spike stood – he had been leaning on the doorjamb earlier – and strolled closer. Buffy heard his boots hitting the ground with little clump, clump noises.
Finally, he stopped in front of her. His boots looked like armored tanks next to her bare toes, and Buffy felt another wave of shame roll over her.
There was a slight pause, then Spike swore and his hands roughly grabbed her upper arms, shaking her until Buffy was forced to look up at him.
And then, she couldn’t take her eyes away.
She followed him with her eyes as he backed a short ways away and sat down on a wooden chair he must have brought in from the kitchen. He took out a cigarette and looked at it longingly for a moment, but then put it back in the pack.
Finally, he looked up to meet her eyes, and Buffy swallowed.
“Right. I’d still like to have that talk.”
Buffy frowned.
“The one from the kitchen.”
Buffy’s jaw fell open, and even though she still hadn’t said a word, Spike chuckled again. “I’m thinking on the same principle as before; something happened that we need to suss out. This time the ‘something’ is bigger, but even so.”
He leaned forward. “I’m going to make you talk to me Slayer, no matter what it takes. I need to figure this out, to understand it, and I’ll do anything I have to, to get you talking. So it would be easier – ”
“Kiss me.”
Both of them blinked in surprise at the words, and Spike frowned. “I swear I heard you say – ”
“Kiss me. Every time you want an explanation, or have a question – I’ll answer it, but only if you kiss me.”
Spike closed his eyes briefly and laughed somewhat shakily, running a hand through his hair. “Bloody… You have no shame, do you Slayer?”
But Buffy had seen his hand trembling, and she realized that maybe he didn’t know any more than she did. She couldn’t help but hope so, and if so, maybe the words that had leapt from her mouth completely on their own weren’t exactly a bad thing.
Even if they did kinda go against the whole, ‘I’ll just sit here, and not do anything like kiss Spike again’ resolution she’d been going for earlier. It still seemed fair. A simple trade. Answers for kisses.
Yes. Yes, she didn’t mind her mouth saying that, even if Spike was right; it made it seem that she was desperate and had no shame. But apparently, that was true anyway.
“Fine.” Spike shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Fine. I’ll… kiss you, for every answer you give me.”
There was a slight pause; then Spike sighed.
“All right, first question. You said something about ‘ever since the spell’…?”
Slowly, just barely, his lips almost not moving, but he was kissing her back, and that was enough for Buffy to feel heat erupt along all her limbs and waves of tingles flow through her.
Her hand on his shoulder slid up, around the back of his neck, and into his hair; she could actually feel Spike shaking slightly, but he didn’t pull away, even when her doing so pulled his head forward a little, away from the wall that seemed to be his anchor.
Buffy didn’t want him to have an anchor.
She let go of the blanket, not caring if it dropped to the ground, though of course it didn’t; she’d wrapped it tightly and besides, she was pressed hard against Spike, so hard that the pressure alone would hold the blanket up if necessary.
With the hand that had been holding the blanket, she reached for his hand; it was pressed hard against the wall, and had she looked, Buffy would have noticed that his fingers were white with pressure.
But she wasn’t looking. No, her eyes were closed, and she was kissing Spike, and as her hand captured his, pulling it off the wall, he kissed her back just a little more, his lips opening just a little, which meant that taking his hand was a very good move, because anything that made him kiss her more was good, and he was talking now…
Talking?
Buffy’s eyes opened slowly, and she didn’t pull back so much as pause, but even so for a second her own pounding heartbeat made it impossible to understand his words so she tuned in right in the middle of her own name.
“…ffy.”
“What?”
Spike’s eyes were still closed, his entire body motionless against hers, but his voice was deep and desperate. “We can’t do this, why are you doing this?”
Buffy finally pulled away a little – just enough so that their lips no longer touched. “I don’t know.”
Upon hearing that, Spike’s body shivered again and his eyes opened, but Buffy wasn’t done. It was the honesty train for her this morning, though why she had no idea… But the words crawled out of her mouth without her permission like a confession. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I want to. I’ve wanted to do this since that spell, and I don’t want to stop now just because we had sex last night. I just wanted to kiss you, and you don’t push me away when I kiss you, and you were leaving, so I kissed you, and you stopped leaving and you were just starting to kiss me again, and I need you to kiss me again. I don’t care if we can’t do this, I want to and I don’t care what you say, I’m not going to let you leave or even think straight if I can help it, so stop talking!”
And she leaned forward again and pressed her lips to his as hard as she could, her hands suddenly clutching hard to his hair and his hand, her body pressed up against his as hard as she could be.
And for a little while – such a short, blessed time! – Spike was kissing her back, as hard as last night, and he wasn’t motionless against the wall anymore; no, he was moving forward, wrapping his arms around her when Buffy became a little limp and once again she felt dizzy and out of control.
And it was perfect.
Buffy relaxed completely, kissing Spike, her eyes closed and limbs weak, not even noticing anymore when he moved them away from the wall and towards the couch, or when he set her down, kneeling over her to continue kissing her.
He was completely in charge of the situation once again; Buffy didn’t care about anything anymore, and she wouldn’t, not as long as she had these lips fixed to hers and this tongue in her mouth and this body touching hers, and Spike kissing her.
But then he wasn’t.
His lips were gone as suddenly as if they’d never been there, and it took Buffy a moment or two to realize that her hands were tied behind her back to the couch – when did that happen? – and Spike was sitting on her legs, looking down at her with a sly expression on his face.
Oh.
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*
“Let me go, damn it, Spike!”
Spike was ignoring her words completely. He watched her for a few seconds, before backing away, turning back to the rest of his clothes and finishing putting them all on. Then he looked at her again quickly, frowned, and left the room.
The fifteen minutes before he came back seemed like the longest fifteen minutes in the history of the universe. Buffy was suddenly beginning to realize that she had committed possibly the most stupid act ever done by a Slayer, stupid in two ways: first, she had allowed herself to be tied up, completely weaponless, in her own home with her own magically-enforced rope… by a chipped vampire that was currently harmless and was now free to leave town if he wished. Secondly, she had gotten drunk on Spike’s mouth and somehow decided she never wanted it to leave, and had acted on that, even telling Spike her thoughts, and now she was trapped as a result of her ridiculous actions.
Yes, they were ridiculous. What was she thinking? First of all, Spike’s reaction when he woke up should have shown her he in no way wanted to touch her again… and she should have realized that it was her reaction that was messed up.
And had she even thought through her own actions? She’d had an impulse, and she followed it. It never occurred to her that what she had essentially been asking Spike for was a long-term relationship, at least longer than a one-night stand. It was insane! Just last night, they had declared their hate to each other – what was she thinking?
And besides, this was Spike. Even assuming he had agreed, and they had continued to have some sort of relationship, how could she, the Slayer, in good conscience do so with a member of the (inherently evil when lacking a soul) undead, especially her ex-mortal enemy, the Slayer of Slayers?
She couldn’t, not really. She might want to, even now, even after thinking all this, but she couldn’t. And maybe, if he was going to kiss her again, maybe she would do it anyway – she might even stand up to her friends for this feeling, this bliss every time their lips met… But Spike wasn’t going to kiss her.
Maybe she could start hating him again, and get back to normal, if he just would too. Yes, she should hope he would. She should hope he would come back in the room, say something snarky, and then leave town altogether. Even explaining to Giles why she was tied up, wearing only a blanket, on her couch, with Spike gone, would be easier than the alternative.
She should hope all that happened.
But she didn’t.
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*
When he returned, Buffy had finally quieted, hunching up and staring at her feet. At the sound of his footsteps, her entire face turned lobster red, and she heard a chuckle from the doorway.
Yay. He was going for the ‘snark, then run’ option. This was good. Good.
“I’d let you up to get dressed, but I have a feeling you’re not going to sit still for me once you’re out of the ropes.”
Sit still for me?
“So, instead…”
Spike tossed something on Buffy’s lap, obscuring her view of her toes. Blinking down at it, she realized it was a sleeveless sundress. She didn’t move.
“I can’t talk to you when you’re sittin’ there in a blanket.”
That’s the idea, Buffy thought. She was still completely confused, but she knew one thing: she really, really, really didn’t want to have this conversation.
“Get dressed, Slayer.”
Spike’s tone brooked no argument, so Buffy awkwardly began to twist her way into the dress, eyes squeezed tightly shut in shame. Spike had probably chosen it because it was sleeveless – this meant she didn’t have to have her hands free to put it on or wear it.
Finally she stilled, and went back to staring at her toes.
Spike stood – he had been leaning on the doorjamb earlier – and strolled closer. Buffy heard his boots hitting the ground with little clump, clump noises.
Finally, he stopped in front of her. His boots looked like armored tanks next to her bare toes, and Buffy felt another wave of shame roll over her.
There was a slight pause, then Spike swore and his hands roughly grabbed her upper arms, shaking her until Buffy was forced to look up at him.
And then, she couldn’t take her eyes away.
She followed him with her eyes as he backed a short ways away and sat down on a wooden chair he must have brought in from the kitchen. He took out a cigarette and looked at it longingly for a moment, but then put it back in the pack.
Finally, he looked up to meet her eyes, and Buffy swallowed.
“Right. I’d still like to have that talk.”
Buffy frowned.
“The one from the kitchen.”
Buffy’s jaw fell open, and even though she still hadn’t said a word, Spike chuckled again. “I’m thinking on the same principle as before; something happened that we need to suss out. This time the ‘something’ is bigger, but even so.”
He leaned forward. “I’m going to make you talk to me Slayer, no matter what it takes. I need to figure this out, to understand it, and I’ll do anything I have to, to get you talking. So it would be easier – ”
“Kiss me.”
Both of them blinked in surprise at the words, and Spike frowned. “I swear I heard you say – ”
“Kiss me. Every time you want an explanation, or have a question – I’ll answer it, but only if you kiss me.”
Spike closed his eyes briefly and laughed somewhat shakily, running a hand through his hair. “Bloody… You have no shame, do you Slayer?”
But Buffy had seen his hand trembling, and she realized that maybe he didn’t know any more than she did. She couldn’t help but hope so, and if so, maybe the words that had leapt from her mouth completely on their own weren’t exactly a bad thing.
Even if they did kinda go against the whole, ‘I’ll just sit here, and not do anything like kiss Spike again’ resolution she’d been going for earlier. It still seemed fair. A simple trade. Answers for kisses.
Yes. Yes, she didn’t mind her mouth saying that, even if Spike was right; it made it seem that she was desperate and had no shame. But apparently, that was true anyway.
“Fine.” Spike shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Fine. I’ll… kiss you, for every answer you give me.”
There was a slight pause; then Spike sighed.
“All right, first question. You said something about ‘ever since the spell’…?”
Part IV: Let This Harmful Spell Be Broken
“Ever since the spell… I just…” Buffy felt extremely uncomfortable, to say the least. “I was… thinking about you. All the time. And I didn’t want to be alone with you, because I was afraid I would do something, and something like, well, last night would happen. And I kind of – told myself not to, but I still did. Not like, all day long, but when I saw you. Or was asleep. Or something.”
Buffy wanted to look away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Spike. He, on the other hand, had no such problem, and was staring fixedly at a spot on the floor.
He coughed, and muttered something that sounded like the word “honest,” but Buffy couldn’t be sure. Then he swallowed, and looked up.
And stood, and walked closer.
For a moment, Buffy felt cold fear, but then she remembered – a kiss for every answer – and she felt warmth wash out from her middle. Spike stopped in front of her, and took a deep breath, licking his lips. Then he sighed, and leaned down.
Buffy doubly cursed her tied hands, because it meant that Spike could pull away whenever he wanted. But he was fair, she had to admit that; the kiss, though close-mouthed, was long and lingering.
When he did pull away, it was abrupt, and he quickly stepped back, a hand reaching up as if to wipe his mouth, though it never actually did.
He frowned, obviously choosing his next question carefully. Buffy couldn’t help but be a little annoyed; it was obvious he was trying to reduce the number of kisses by picking good questions. But it wasn’t against the rules, so she couldn’t really say anything about it.
“Did… Do you…” Spike frowned, and now he did scrub a hand across his mouth, as if trying to remove the memory of her lips. “But you weren’t upset… after. Why not? What happened to the righteous Slayer anger and superiority?”
Buffy frowned at the way he phrased it, but knew what he meant. “I don’t know.”
Spike gaped at her. “You don’t know?”
Buffy shrugged, a calm feeling stealing over her. Why not be completely honest right now? It wasn’t like she had anything to lose. “I just… didn’t care. I don’t know why I haven’t freaked out. I mean, logically, I’m acting completely insane right now.”
Spike smiled suddenly. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.
Buffy shrugged again, not bothered by his comment. “But I don’t really care. And, if we both really wanted to… we could be a couple. My friends would freak, but they’d be okay about it after a while. We wouldn’t tie you up anymore. You killing people wouldn’t be a problem since you can’t, and you’re already sort of helping me patrol. If we wanted to, it’s possible. And I guess I’ve just decided I want to.”
Spike’s smile was gone as if it had never existed. “You want to be a couple?” his voice almost cracked, and he cleared his throat. “You want to be a couple,” he muttered under his breath, turning and beginning to pace.
Buffy felt downright serene now, and the brief thought passed through her head that she might have been poisoned or something, or got a personality transplant because this was not any Buffy she’d ever been before. “That’s right,” she agreed. “It really depends on you right now.”
Spike whirled on her, “Can’t you see that it’s just wrong?”
Again, Buffy nodded. “Yeah. Traditionally, no vampire/Slayer relationships, or actually human/vampire, are right. They’re all wrong. But you know, I’m not actually a traditional kind of person. And neither are you. Angel was, more. That’s probably part of why he left – ”
“Don’t you dare mention that bastard to me!” Spike roared. “Do you want me to hit you?”
Buffy’s smile didn’t even waver. “No. I want you to kiss me.”
Spike stared at her, looking defeated and tired. He slowly sank back into his chair. “Could you not be so fucking honest?” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is so fucked-up.”
Buffy sighed, then perked up. “You have to kiss me now.”
Spike didn’t move, speaking through his hands. “Do I have to?”
“Yeah… Once for every answer, remember?”
Spike looked at her, then groaned again. “I have a headache.” He stood and left the room, Buffy staring after him.
“Cheater!”
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*
Spike came back a few hours later. Buffy was no longer smiling, scowling at him. “I have rope burn,” she announced. “And couldn’t you have even turned on the TV?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “You sound like Harris’ bird.”
Though disturbed by this comparison, Buffy didn’t dignify the insult with a retort. “So? What have you decided to do? And when do I get my kiss?” Oh god, she thought, I do sound like Anya!
Spike looked at her again, his eyes unreadable. “You really want to be a couple.”
Buffy blushed. “Well… yeah. I guess.”
“And you don’t care what your lot thinks.”
“I do. But… I mean, I won’t let it stop me, or anything. Why?”
Spike didn’t answer her question, just looking at her.
“And you wouldn’t expect me to become a member of your little gang, or anything?”
Buffy shook her head, “Well it would be nice, but… Wait, are you saying…?” She began to get a light-headed feeling, even more so when he slowly approached her.
Spike’s eyes never left hers. “And you wouldn’t mention the git?”
Buffy was smiling now, smiling radiantly, even as he pulled a pocketknife out of his pocket. “Spike?”
He slit the rope holding her wrists – it was made so that the person who tied it could cut it loose easily, that was one of the good things about it – and dropped the knife. Buffy pulled her hands free and massaged her wrists, still staring into Spike’s eyes, a bright smile on her face, and now inexplicable tears in her eyes.
“Or call me impotent again?”
At this, Buffy laughed out loud, shaking her head. A smile slowly graced Spike’s face, and he shrugged. “I guess I could try it then.”
Buffy tried to kiss him, but he pulled away from her. “It’s my turn, remember?”
Then he bent his head, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he gently touched his lips to hers, then again in another one of those kisses that melted everything else out of existence.
And Buffy’s eyes fell closed as they kissed, her limbs becoming Jello again, and her heart beating so hard it was almost painful, as they held onto each-other and simply kissed, on and on in a never-ending heaven.
Only one thought was left in her brain:
Ah, Spike lips. Lips of Good.
Buffy wanted to look away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Spike. He, on the other hand, had no such problem, and was staring fixedly at a spot on the floor.
He coughed, and muttered something that sounded like the word “honest,” but Buffy couldn’t be sure. Then he swallowed, and looked up.
And stood, and walked closer.
For a moment, Buffy felt cold fear, but then she remembered – a kiss for every answer – and she felt warmth wash out from her middle. Spike stopped in front of her, and took a deep breath, licking his lips. Then he sighed, and leaned down.
Buffy doubly cursed her tied hands, because it meant that Spike could pull away whenever he wanted. But he was fair, she had to admit that; the kiss, though close-mouthed, was long and lingering.
When he did pull away, it was abrupt, and he quickly stepped back, a hand reaching up as if to wipe his mouth, though it never actually did.
He frowned, obviously choosing his next question carefully. Buffy couldn’t help but be a little annoyed; it was obvious he was trying to reduce the number of kisses by picking good questions. But it wasn’t against the rules, so she couldn’t really say anything about it.
“Did… Do you…” Spike frowned, and now he did scrub a hand across his mouth, as if trying to remove the memory of her lips. “But you weren’t upset… after. Why not? What happened to the righteous Slayer anger and superiority?”
Buffy frowned at the way he phrased it, but knew what he meant. “I don’t know.”
Spike gaped at her. “You don’t know?”
Buffy shrugged, a calm feeling stealing over her. Why not be completely honest right now? It wasn’t like she had anything to lose. “I just… didn’t care. I don’t know why I haven’t freaked out. I mean, logically, I’m acting completely insane right now.”
Spike smiled suddenly. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.
Buffy shrugged again, not bothered by his comment. “But I don’t really care. And, if we both really wanted to… we could be a couple. My friends would freak, but they’d be okay about it after a while. We wouldn’t tie you up anymore. You killing people wouldn’t be a problem since you can’t, and you’re already sort of helping me patrol. If we wanted to, it’s possible. And I guess I’ve just decided I want to.”
Spike’s smile was gone as if it had never existed. “You want to be a couple?” his voice almost cracked, and he cleared his throat. “You want to be a couple,” he muttered under his breath, turning and beginning to pace.
Buffy felt downright serene now, and the brief thought passed through her head that she might have been poisoned or something, or got a personality transplant because this was not any Buffy she’d ever been before. “That’s right,” she agreed. “It really depends on you right now.”
Spike whirled on her, “Can’t you see that it’s just wrong?”
Again, Buffy nodded. “Yeah. Traditionally, no vampire/Slayer relationships, or actually human/vampire, are right. They’re all wrong. But you know, I’m not actually a traditional kind of person. And neither are you. Angel was, more. That’s probably part of why he left – ”
“Don’t you dare mention that bastard to me!” Spike roared. “Do you want me to hit you?”
Buffy’s smile didn’t even waver. “No. I want you to kiss me.”
Spike stared at her, looking defeated and tired. He slowly sank back into his chair. “Could you not be so fucking honest?” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is so fucked-up.”
Buffy sighed, then perked up. “You have to kiss me now.”
Spike didn’t move, speaking through his hands. “Do I have to?”
“Yeah… Once for every answer, remember?”
Spike looked at her, then groaned again. “I have a headache.” He stood and left the room, Buffy staring after him.
“Cheater!”
*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*
Spike came back a few hours later. Buffy was no longer smiling, scowling at him. “I have rope burn,” she announced. “And couldn’t you have even turned on the TV?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “You sound like Harris’ bird.”
Though disturbed by this comparison, Buffy didn’t dignify the insult with a retort. “So? What have you decided to do? And when do I get my kiss?” Oh god, she thought, I do sound like Anya!
Spike looked at her again, his eyes unreadable. “You really want to be a couple.”
Buffy blushed. “Well… yeah. I guess.”
“And you don’t care what your lot thinks.”
“I do. But… I mean, I won’t let it stop me, or anything. Why?”
Spike didn’t answer her question, just looking at her.
“And you wouldn’t expect me to become a member of your little gang, or anything?”
Buffy shook her head, “Well it would be nice, but… Wait, are you saying…?” She began to get a light-headed feeling, even more so when he slowly approached her.
Spike’s eyes never left hers. “And you wouldn’t mention the git?”
Buffy was smiling now, smiling radiantly, even as he pulled a pocketknife out of his pocket. “Spike?”
He slit the rope holding her wrists – it was made so that the person who tied it could cut it loose easily, that was one of the good things about it – and dropped the knife. Buffy pulled her hands free and massaged her wrists, still staring into Spike’s eyes, a bright smile on her face, and now inexplicable tears in her eyes.
“Or call me impotent again?”
At this, Buffy laughed out loud, shaking her head. A smile slowly graced Spike’s face, and he shrugged. “I guess I could try it then.”
Buffy tried to kiss him, but he pulled away from her. “It’s my turn, remember?”
Then he bent his head, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he gently touched his lips to hers, then again in another one of those kisses that melted everything else out of existence.
And Buffy’s eyes fell closed as they kissed, her limbs becoming Jello again, and her heart beating so hard it was almost painful, as they held onto each-other and simply kissed, on and on in a never-ending heaven.
Only one thought was left in her brain:
Ah, Spike lips. Lips of Good.
Epilogue: Guilt Cookies
Willow glanced up from her book at the knock on the door. She got up slowly, taking the time to wipe her face free of tears and blow her nose once before answering the door.
No one was there, and at first she thought it was some sort of prank, but then she noticed the box sitting on the floor.
Frowning, she picked it up and went back into the room, closing the door behind her. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and sighed; just as glad no one had been outside the door. She looked a mess, from her hair, tangled and greasy around her head, all the way down her ratty old sweater and sweatpants-clad form, to her feet, covered in humongous puffy slippers. Her face was the worst: blotchy red and white, with visible tear-tracks and swollen, puffy eyes.
Willow sighed heavily at her reflection again, then picked up the box and went to her bed, sitting down with it in her lap. Right now she looked about as bad as she had just after Oz had left; now, however, her tears weren’t those of self-pity – no, these tears had everything to do with guilt.
She still felt extremely guilty about the will-be-done spell, but she hadn’t been able to let her tears out when Buffy was still in their room, because she knew it would make her friend feel bad.
It was Buffy she was worried about the most. The normally upbeat and quippy Slayer had been quiet and withdrawn in the week following the spell. Willow knew she was probably severely traumatized by the event of the spell – imagine, being in love with someone and about to marry one second, and the next, finding yourself kissing your mortal enemy! No wonder Buffy was acting weird.
Shrugging the thoughts out of her head, Willow set about opening the unmarked box. It was a little difficult, and when she finally got past the Duct tape, she blinked in surprise at the two giant Ziploc bags of chocolate-chip cookies.
Pulling the bags out of the box, she noticed a note beneath them, and pulled it out, recognizing Buffy’s handwriting from the Willow written on the outside. Unfolding it, she read,
Dear Willow:
You probably remember making all those batches of Guilt Cookies for me after the will-be-done spell went wrong. Well, I felt like I had to make you some, too. You see, I’m sure that right now you’re probably torturing yourself with guilt now that I’m finally out of the room, thinking you trivialized me.
So, I’m guilty that I’ve caused you so much guilt, especially considering how things turned out. I’m telling you first, so keep the secret, but let me tell you: after a lot of thought and sampling, I’ve decided. Spike lips: very, very, very good!
Don’t be guilty. Eat the cookies. And take a shower! I know what you get like when you’re mopey, and I won’t be back for another week (I have to baby-sit him all alone at home, remember? I could kiss Giles – except eww, Giles kisses. My poor mom...)
Love and guilt,
Buffy
(and Spike – he actually made the cookies, which is why
you can eat them at all. But the note’s all mine, I swear!)
Willow read the note three times, deciphering the Buffy quirks (trivialized instead of traumatized, for instance) and it’s general meaning. Then she put it down and slowly unzipped the bag. Holding a cookie in her hands and staring at it as if it were an alien, she turned it in her hands a few times.
Then she smiled, and bit into it with a crunch.
No one was there, and at first she thought it was some sort of prank, but then she noticed the box sitting on the floor.
Frowning, she picked it up and went back into the room, closing the door behind her. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and sighed; just as glad no one had been outside the door. She looked a mess, from her hair, tangled and greasy around her head, all the way down her ratty old sweater and sweatpants-clad form, to her feet, covered in humongous puffy slippers. Her face was the worst: blotchy red and white, with visible tear-tracks and swollen, puffy eyes.
Willow sighed heavily at her reflection again, then picked up the box and went to her bed, sitting down with it in her lap. Right now she looked about as bad as she had just after Oz had left; now, however, her tears weren’t those of self-pity – no, these tears had everything to do with guilt.
She still felt extremely guilty about the will-be-done spell, but she hadn’t been able to let her tears out when Buffy was still in their room, because she knew it would make her friend feel bad.
It was Buffy she was worried about the most. The normally upbeat and quippy Slayer had been quiet and withdrawn in the week following the spell. Willow knew she was probably severely traumatized by the event of the spell – imagine, being in love with someone and about to marry one second, and the next, finding yourself kissing your mortal enemy! No wonder Buffy was acting weird.
Shrugging the thoughts out of her head, Willow set about opening the unmarked box. It was a little difficult, and when she finally got past the Duct tape, she blinked in surprise at the two giant Ziploc bags of chocolate-chip cookies.
Pulling the bags out of the box, she noticed a note beneath them, and pulled it out, recognizing Buffy’s handwriting from the Willow written on the outside. Unfolding it, she read,
Dear Willow:
You probably remember making all those batches of Guilt Cookies for me after the will-be-done spell went wrong. Well, I felt like I had to make you some, too. You see, I’m sure that right now you’re probably torturing yourself with guilt now that I’m finally out of the room, thinking you trivialized me.
So, I’m guilty that I’ve caused you so much guilt, especially considering how things turned out. I’m telling you first, so keep the secret, but let me tell you: after a lot of thought and sampling, I’ve decided. Spike lips: very, very, very good!
Don’t be guilty. Eat the cookies. And take a shower! I know what you get like when you’re mopey, and I won’t be back for another week (I have to baby-sit him all alone at home, remember? I could kiss Giles – except eww, Giles kisses. My poor mom...)
Love and guilt,
Buffy
(and Spike – he actually made the cookies, which is why
you can eat them at all. But the note’s all mine, I swear!)
Willow read the note three times, deciphering the Buffy quirks (trivialized instead of traumatized, for instance) and it’s general meaning. Then she put it down and slowly unzipped the bag. Holding a cookie in her hands and staring at it as if it were an alien, she turned it in her hands a few times.
Then she smiled, and bit into it with a crunch.
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