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Chapter 14


Buffy regarded Spike as he erratically sorted through various foul smelling herbs, readying them for the ritual. But it wasn't the ritual that made her palms sweat and her heart constrict. It was him. She had kissed Spike. He had been there while she was hurting, giving comfort and affection. All from a being that wasn't supposed to feel, love or sympathize. He gave her hope that maybe one day the nightmares would drift to a mere echo instead of blasting at her in full Technicolor. That maybe he could help her be herself again, even though Buffy knew the chances of it were pretty much non-existent.


She had been with him for a couple of days and it struck her that she didn't even know him. Didn't know his favourite movie, or band. She had no idea what kind of things he liked to do the first moment he woke up and what made him feel sad or happy. All those banalities people were supposed to share before they opened up to each other. Spike was practically a stranger, yet there was no reason she couldn't trust him. He was a vampire, a slayer's mortal enemy, and if she had met him under any other circumstances there was little doubt they would have tried to kill each other. That knowledge made her feel uncomfortable. She would never have known the taste of his lips, the feel of his skin under her fingertips.


Trembling.


Hungry.


Buffy was well aware he wanted her. She could feel the evidence of it every time they were close. It scared her. Not because she felt he'd snap and take her against her will, because Spike was better than that, no matter what he tried to convince himself of. She was scared she could never give him what he so desperately craved. That she was too broken to let anyone touch her that way.


Yet she'd given him hope, a crumb for more. What if he hated her for teasing him and refusing to let him have more than the kiss? But how could she regret it? She'd never felt more cherished than when Spike's lips had touched hers with quiet passion that surpassed anything Buffy could ever have imagined. There had been no pressure, no expectations. Just the two of them locked in a world where nothing else existed. No haunting memories. No pain.


Buffy followed Spike's movements as he prowled around the room, looking for something. After they had climbed out of the shower he’d dried her, dressed her in an over sized t-shirt and carried her to the bed, insisting that she had to rest to regain her strength. She’d fallen asleep; the full impact of being exhausted hitting her like ton of bricks and Buffy suspected that was when he went to get the ingredients he'd forgotten in the trunk of his car. She'd woken up to find Spike spooned against her back, one arm stretched beneath her neck, the other tight around her waist, the length of his body molding to hers.


It was the next minute that things had gone downhill.


Buffy knew Spike had been asleep when he'd murmured her name and rubbed his lower half against her panties clad backside. She had stiffened in his embrace and tried to disentangle from him, but it had only served to make him growl and tighten his hold on her. The arm around her waist had shifted upwards and squeezed her breast. By then, she had been completely frozen in fear. It had triggered all the nightmares and memories to take root and take over her mind, even though she subconsciously recognized they weren't real.


Spike woke up, probably sensing her distress as a cold sweat run down her back beneath the too big t-shirt. He'd snatched his hand away and jumped up, cursing and running to the bathroom. The door closed behind him with a resounding bang. Spike hadn't spoken one word since he came out and started to busy himself with preparing the ritual. He averted his eyes every time she glanced at him.


Was he disappointed by her reaction? Was that the reason he kept avoiding her? Could it be something else entirely? The only thing Buffy knew for certain was that Spike was upset. His every move betrayed barely restrained tension as he darted around the room, busying himself with the preparation, the restless energy just waiting to burst out.


Buffy knew that he was a vampire. And a male. He had needs that she couldn't meet. She was certain that he cared about her and would never leave her, yet she couldn't imagine someone as physical as Spike bearing an infinite time of celibacy. The notion of him finding a lover wasn't completely crazy. There were plenty of women who would let him touch them sexually without flinching or tensing up in fear. And Buffy would let him.


Still there was a dark corner in her mind that wasn't the influence of the hijacker that raged and snarled at the prospect of another female touching his flesh, making him writhe and gasp in ecstasy. She couldn't let him posses her, but no other woman could have him either. She needed to find out what was gnawing at him, needed to make it better.


“Spike?”


Silence.


“Spike, please talk to me.” Buffy's eyes teared up when he didn't respond and she bowed her head. Maybe it really was her fault.


There were steps and a finger under her chin lifting her head upward. She met Spike's worried gaze.


“Come on, luv, don't do this. You know I can't stand to see you cry.” The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he sat next to her.


Buffy fought to gain control over the emotions that overwhelmed her need to talk to him when Spike uttered those soft words. Her breath came out in short gasps, her throat felt tight and if she started to talk, she'd just end up crying so Buffy stayed silent. She felt Spike put his hand tentatively on her back, then rubbing circles to make her relax. That was enough to break the dam holding back her fear, her insecurities and a sob tore out of her throat, tears pouring down her cheeks.


Spike gathered her into his arms wordlessly, situating her to straddle his lap as he hugged her to him, stroking her hair with one hand, other resuming the soothing caresses on her back. They stayed like there for several minutes until Spike broke the silence.


“It's going to be all right, you know? We'll get rid of the hijacker, promise. Then we can go wherever you want to. Leave Sunnydale for good, or stay. Whatever you like.”


Buffy shook her head almost imperceptibly.


“What is it?” he asked.


Buffy cleared her throat and whispered into Spike's ear. “Please, just tell me what's wrong. Was it... was it something that I did?”


“Something that you did? 'Course not.” Spike frowned. It was him that bollixed everything up real good. He'd felt nauseated when Buffy's overwhelming stench of dread woke him up and he realized it was him that had stirred that reaction in her. Him and his bloody libido. She must have gotten it all mixed up in her pretty head when he rushed off to the bathroom like that. He'd just needed space... and to splash some really cold water on his face to regain some semblance of control.


“You wouldn't talk to me... or even look at me.” Buffy shifted against him, inadvertently rubbing against his manly parts and Spike cursed himself for putting her in such a provocative position as he had a difficult time processing what she was talking about. Her wriggling on his lap did not help him to think clearly long enough to sort this mess out.


“Kitten, I think you should-” He scooted her back a little with his hands on her hips, to sit on his upper thighs rather than directly in his lap. Spike wanted nothing more than to tug her back to him and push her warmth against his erection, but he let his brain do the thinking. He was surprised to see Buffy's bottom lip quiver as she averted her eyes and clumsily climbed off him.


“I-I'm sorry,” she said and hugged herself.


Spike sighed.


'Buggered it all up again, mate.'


God, it was hard for him to be so close to her and not touch her beyond a comforting hug or a caress, especially after he'd tasted the sweetness of her lips. Pushing Buffy into doing something she was terrified of was the last thing he wanted. Now only if his body would listen too.


“What? Bloody hell, I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel all skittish. I'll keep my distance, right?” Spike felt disgusted with himself for making her feel this way.


“God, Spike. Can't you see this is all my fault? I don't want you to feel like you're the one that's wrong. It's me! I'm wrong!” Buffy's chest heaved, and Spike stopped himself from reaching out to her when it was so obvious she was too upset to be touched.


“You've just had a lot to deal with, been hurt, but that doesn't make you wrong, luv.” Spike kept his voice low and soothing, trying to cut through the hysteria that was obviously taking over her.


“Why do I feel this way? Why do I feel like it's never going to be okay ever again? I can't take it, Spike! I just can't.” Her arms dropped to her sides, her words trailing off weakly, and she gazed at him with desperation. Spike wasted no time and crossed the distance between them, embracing her.


“Let me help you,” he murmured into her ear.


“What if I can't be helped?” Buffy whispered back to him and Spike tightened his arms around her. He'd do everything to make her happy, to see her laugh, to see the sparkle of life in her eyes even if he had to dust to achieve it.


“You can. You will. Just tell me what to do.”


“Kiss me?” She tilted her head back to gaze up at him and Spike drank in the sight of her, wounded and desperate. It wasn't a sexual request made in the haze of blind desire. It was a cautious longing for comfort, for a fleeting moment of oblivion, and he'd gladly give it to her.


Spike closed his eyes as their lips met, gently at first, then hungry and full of need so deep it took over his rational thought. He groaned into Buffy's mouth when she parted her lips and swept her tongue tentatively across the gap between his lips. He didn't hesitate and tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss and massaging her tongue with his own, sucking it erotically into his mouth. The taste, the sensation was so heady and intense it made a kaleidoscope of colours appear behind his eyelids. Buffy delved her hands into his hair, whimpering and pressing herself harder against him.


Buffy came up for breath, and Spike slowly opened his eyes, relishing the feel of her cheek brushing against his, her warm exhales tickling his ear. The pleasure ran rampant through him, the flames of it licking his insides, and Spike had to push it back with all his will so he wouldn't press for more. He had to stop before it got out of hand and Buffy would end up hating him forever. He'd never been this patient in his whole existence.


The ripples beneath her skin registered with Spike right before her pupils dilated to devour the green of her irises, and her grip on his hair became painful instead of pleasant. The hijacker making its last attempt.


He didn't hesitate to gaze deep into Buffy's eyes this time, pouring everything he was and felt into her. The intensity of it all didn't give the hijacker a chance to fight for long and it retreated within seconds. She slumped into his arms and took a few moments to recuperate, then finally lifted her wide eyes to glance up at him, the fear making her appear even younger and more vulnerable.


“We should tackle the ritual now, luv,” Spike said and Buffy nodded.


******


Buffy sat on the floor, watching Spike draw a circle around them with a piece of chalk, which was quite a feat considering he was drawing it on the carpet.


“What's that for?” she asked.


“The circle, you mean?” Buffy nodded and Spike explained. “Well, it's supposed to close in the mojo, help us focus the energy. More in the metaphorical than literal sense. Personally, I think the whole bloody thing is just a piece of rubbish, but it was on the list, so who am I to argue?” He smirked as he waved the paper in the air for Buffy to see.


“What else does it say?”


“Nothing much. Just lots of chanting and smelly herbs.” Spike smiled when he saw Buffy wrinkle her nose.


“Yep, you have that smelly part right,” Buffy said.


He could see she was trying to lighten the situation by trying to be cheerful, though she didn't succeed very well at convincing him.


She glanced up at him, concerned. “Will it... will it hurt?”


Spike knelt down to her after he finished drawing the circle and dumped the chalk on the floor outside the thready drawing. He grasped Buffy's shoulders and focused on her, trying to project reassurance towards her. “It'll be just fine, luv. I don't think you'll even remember anything.” He sighed and brushed a stray lock of Buffy's hair from her forehead. “From what I read, it'll be just me and the ugly bugger. The dagger is supposed to create an alternate space thingy... a mirror of your mind, making it solid. Then I'll find the git and kick his sorry arse.”


“What if you never come back?” Buffy grasped the hand stroking her hair and clutched it tightly between her palms, her eyes conveying everything he felt. What if she never woke up from the trance?


“I will. I promise.” Spike looked at her seriously and then smiled. “Besides, I'm like a bad penny, yeah? I always come back. No chance of getting rid of me so soon.”


She let go of his hand and Spike scooted backwards, mirroring Buffy's Indian style sitting position, his knees touching hers. They both breathed in and out, readying their will and emptying their minds.


“Aeolustos, the Keeper of dimensions, take this offering. The mother's wine for peace and mind.” Spike recited.


Buffy watched Spike pour a thick red liquid that couldn't have been anything but blood into the bowl sitting between their crossed legs, followed by various pungent herbs. The wind rose and gusted within the circle, making Buffy's hair flutter around her face. The pressure of energy started to press on them, making the air humid and thick. It felt as if she was breathing water instead of air.


“The key to the mind of the Warrior to unlock the realm and destroy the servant of Beyond.”


Spike picked up the dagger, chanting as he cut his palm and reached for her hand to do the same. He entwined his hand with hers, blood mingling in a rush of dizzying connection and sparks of magic danced along her nerve endings, making the short hairs on the nape of her neck stand out. A shiver ran through her.


Buffy could feel something bigger and stronger tug at her consciousness and the litany of Spike's words blurred to an unrecognizable string of tones and melody, slithering over her like a lover's caress, lulling her to give in. A pulsing light shimmered around their joined palms, swirling in an orange light, spreading further and further until it formed a ring, restricted by the circle Spike had drawn earlier. The pressure kept rising to a crescendo along with the chants, the air thickening with the forces of wind and earth.


The pull was too strong to resist any longer and Spike's eyes, half lidded in concentration as he worded the ritual from his memory, was the last thing Buffy saw before the darkness of oblivion embraced her.


“So mote it be!” Spike's deep voice resonated throughout the hotel room before he slumped next to Buffy, his hand still clutching hers.


TBC

Author's note: Next update very possibly on Saturday! Thank you for reading!!! :D