Chapter Eight

*~*

Sleep ebbed away slowly this time, cradling her into consciousness on a warm, weightless pillow.  No dreams or voices interrupted this gentle waking, and when Buffy’s eyes finally drifted open, she felt cozy and content despite the pressure on her bladder and the worries lingering at the edge of her mind.  She shifted, leaning further back against Spike’s chest, but the move failed to solve her immediate issue.  He didn’t wake when she slipped out of his arms, just mumbled something about cheese toast and rolled over, taking her pillow with him.

Buffy dashed naked across the hall to the bathroom and back again, hoping that Dawn would remain securely in dreamland.  Moonlight spilled into her room and over the sleeping vampire, and Buffy stopped for a moment to watch, caught up in the sight of his tousled hair and muscular body barely covered by her flowered sheets.  Though the light breeze from the open window felt cool, the warmth rising in her belly and spreading outward quickly drove away the chill. 

Even unconscious, his presence whispered to her, made her heart pound and her skin hum in memory.  However this played out, Buffy knew she would never be able to look at Spike again without feeling the ghost of his touch wash over her, without remembering the way he soothed the pain in her heart just by showing up in her backyard, and how he seemed to belong amongst her girlish linens.

An ache throbbed behind her eyes and instead of returning to bed, Buffy moved to the window, staring out into the night beyond the screen of gently swaying leaves.  Why couldn’t things ever be simple?  This was why slayers weren’t supposed to have attachments, which was also the ironic part.  Spike hadn’t been wrong when he said the people steadily pulling her life into chaos were the same ones she fought to live for.

She flirted with the idea that if her annoying little headache turned out to be a brain tumour, she wouldn’t have to bother with any of this.  Her friends would be safe, wouldn’t they, without Buffy around to attract the trouble?  But no.  Glory wouldn’t stop until she found her damn Key, and Buffy refused to die, even by accident, without knowing that her family and friends were safe.

Jeez, depressing much?

Spike mumbled something behind her, and she smiled without taking her eyes away from the window.  It was almost funny in a sick, twisted way.  Two nights into this thing with Spike and she’d already travelled too far down the forbidden road to turn back now.  Sooner or later she would have to figure out what to do about it, but the idea of dealing with it felt like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach, cold and nauseating, sapping the energy out of her the longer she carried it around.

Maybe, maybe she and Riley were doomed already, but could she really just give it all up for sex? 

It’s more than that, and you know it...

It was more, but why?  When?  Where did these feelings come from and was her heart really reliable at a time like this?  What about Riley?   If she felt about him the way she was supposed to, would any of this even have happened?    Could she do it again, get involved with a vampire?  Buffy snorted softly, glancing at the bed.  Involved.   She was already involved.  The question was, could she give up normal for a vampire without a soul?

Might not have a soul, but I’ve got a heart .  She hadn’t believed it when he said it, but she couldn’t deny it now.

Her head throbbed harder.  She hated this, hated going behind Riley’s back and hated the hint of disappointment in Spike’s voice when he realized she hadn’t told.  She hated that she didn’t hate this, that she could look inside herself and find no trace of disgust for sleeping with Spike and being stupid enough to fall for him in the process.

Somehow, when the universe was trying its hardest to bring her down, Spike was turning out to be exactly what she needed.

A shiver ran up her spine, a tingling, thrilling quake that quickened her pulse and made her head swim with dizziness.  Buffy pressed her hands against the window and saw her reflection framed between them, fading in and out of focus as her breath fogged the glass.  The shiver spread over her in a gentle caress, smooth as silk, tickly as a feather, drawing her nipples into hardened points and bringing her body alive with sensation as each tiny hair stood on end.  She couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, but knew he was behind her. 

This reminder of his inherent danger stole her breath and weakened her knees, only not as the wake-up call it should have been.  It was easy to forget what he was, and maybe she had in a way, these years with the chip, but it didn’t make a difference.  For better or worse, she couldn’t shake the gut feeling that she needed to let go and just let it happen.

Spike’s palms slid over her belly, his touch so light that her skin quivered in response.  Fingers shining silver-white in the moonlight splayed out over her stomach and a gentle tug pulled her to him, his body now a solid form against her back, hard and soft in all the right places.  Buffy closed her eyes and let her head fall onto his shoulder, shuddering as his breath tickled her ear before his lips brushed kisses on her neck.

Spike whispered how beautiful she looked beneath the moon, his words ricocheting through her body like a pinball lighting her up from the inside out.  Fingers glided over her trembling skin, painting her body in fiery spirals as he explored every inch of her.  A quiet moan escaped her when his fingers slid into her curls, parting her slick folds, stroking her slowly until the heat from his touch spread through her whole body.  

It really didn’t matter what he was once or what he was supposed to be.  It only mattered, in the minutes before the haze of bliss clouded out all coherent thought, that he was here and that he loved her. 

For now, it was enough.

*~*

 

Buffy collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard, as her last solid bone turned to jelly — her squishy, happily gooey head to go along with the rest of her wonderfully useless body.  Spike hovered over her, one eyebrow raised and a hint of teeth showing behind an obviously pleased smirk.

“I think you broke me,” Buffy said, her own lips turning up in a lazy smile.

“That so?” Spike said, dropping down on his elbows until they were chest-to-chest.  “Where’s that slayer stamina I’ve heard so much about?”

“Oh, God.”  Buffy groaned, her eyes drifting shut as Spike’s lips trailed feathery kisses on her neck.  How many hours had passed since they made love by the window?  Two?  Three?  At least that long, by the weightlessness of her limbs and the tingly ache down below.  “I think cocky vampire trumps tired slayer.”

The cocky part of him nudged at her thigh, and though her legs barely worked, she drew them apart so he could settle between them.  She was so wet he glided in with barely any effort, so sensitized that  her muscles quivered around him and her clit burned with remembered rapture.

Buffy gasped and clutched at his arms as he pulled out slowly, forcing her eyes open so she could look into his.  “Don’t stop.”

How many times had she told him that?  Every time, she thought, seeing the familiar little smile, the barely-there grin he only wore when they were together like this.   He would make love to her forever, if she asked. 

Spike dragged his thumb across her cheek and thrust gently back in.  “Never,” he whispered.  “Harder?”

“No.”  Buffy shook her head, hair rustling against the sheets.  “Like this.”

She wouldn’t last, and she knew it.  Only Spike’s weight on top kept her hips from leaping off the bed, the pleasure almost painful but in the sweetest of ways.  Buffy dug her nails into his skin, her breath escaping in shallow puffs that made Spike’s eyelashes flutter whenever she exhaled.

“Feels good, baby?”  When she nodded, he rubbed her nose with his and tucked his fingers into her hair.  “Gonna come for me?”

Soon.  Too soon.  Her toes curled as the first heated waves reached them, and she barely managed to answer before her pussy clenched tight around his cock in a sudden burst of pleasure.  She arched against him and he pressed her back down, pinning her to the mattress with deep, steady thrusts.  The building pressure burst behind her eyes in a flash of blinding white as her climax washed over her, not the tsunami from before but a tossing wave that pulled her under and set her adrift just below the surface.  She felt the rhythmic pulsing of Spike’s cock as he emptied himself inside, following her into the gently rolling sea.

They lay together for some time before Spike rolled onto his back beside her.   Through sheer willpower, Buffy turned and curled into his arms, head pillowed on his chest.

“Sun’ll be up soon,” Spike said, running his fingernails up and down her back.

Buffy yawned and pulled the sheet up over her shoulders, only now feeling the predawn chill as her flesh broke out in goose bumps, though whether it came from the cold air or Spike’s touch, she couldn’t say.  The sun could stay down, as far as she was concerned.  Daylight didn’t have a lot going for it, these days.

She told him so, and he chuckled softly.  “Can’t say I’m much of a fan, either.”

Buffy sighed.  “This is going to get messy.”

“You going to tell him?”

She hesitated before answering, instead focusing on the way the morning breeze teased the curtains.  “I should.  I don’t want to.  I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

Spike’s fingers paused a moment in their steady path along her spine.  “You don’t even know what you want.”

“I want you,” she said, feeling her face and neck burn hot as soon as the words were out.  Spike stiffened beside her, but she pressed on.  “You know I do.  But I’m not supposed to.”

He sighed deeply.  “Neither am I, love, but look where ‘not supposed to’ has gotten us.”

Naked and sweaty on her bed two nights in a row without an end in sight?

“Ergo, messy.”

“Don’t expect you to decide right now,” Spike said, after a moment’s pause.  “Don’t expect anything.”

Buffy reached up to stroke his cheek.  “I don’t believe you.”

She felt him smile beneath her fingers.   “Always was a wretched liar.”

“I wish I had answers for you,” she said, looking up at him and his sleepy eyes and raging bed-head.  “All I have are just more questions.”

Spike’s fingers brushed her forehead, pushing back a stray lock of hair.  “I love you.” 

Beneath the drooping lids, his eyes shone with moisture, and Buffy tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat.  The words resonated inside her, squeezing her heart and roiling in her belly.  He couldn’t fake this, and it hurt her heart knowing she couldn’t answer him. 

“I know.”    She squeezed his side and felt a cool wave of relief wash over her when he squeezed back.

“It’s just, there’s so much right now, first with Dawn, and now Mom—”

“Dawn?” Spike said, pushing up on his elbows so he was half sitting.  “What about Dawn?”

Buffy realized her error the moment she spoke, and sat up to meet Spike’s furrowed brow and sharpened stare. 

“What?” she said, knowing it was useless, certain Spike could hear her racing heart.  “It’s nothing.  Forget it.”

But when she tried to slip out of bed and into avoidance mode, his hand closed around her arm and stopped her. 

“No, not nothing.”  The furrow vanished and he levelled her with a hard stare.  “What’s wrong with Dawn?”

Crap, crap, crap!

Prickling heat rose up her spine and she tore her eyes away from his, staring at the photo of her and Dawn on the vanity mirror, remembering the way her sister’s face faded in and out of reality the night she learned the truth.  A truth Dawn couldn’t know, or anyone else, either.  Except now she’d slipped and let the cat half out of the bag.   So, should she stuff it back in and listen to it yowl, or let it out and stop it scratching at her insides?

She couldn’t trust her friends with this.  They would never look at Dawn the same way again, and then Dawn would know, and then Glory could—

“Buffy?”

Spike.  She knew it was stupid to tell her biggest secret to a vampire — stupid and dangerous — even if the vampire in question was in love with her.  She shouldn’t even consider trusting him with this, or with anything else for that matter.

Except, she already sort of did.

Buffy turned around, feeling more naked now than at the height of their lovemaking.  She was cold all over, and not just because of the open window or her lack of clothing.  It was one thing to put herself in danger, to drop her defences and let him in, because if the walls came crashing down, she knew she could dig herself out.  It was another thing entirely to let on about Dawn, to let her be vulnerable in his eyes, when so much could go so horribly wrong. 

But wouldn’t it be better to have another set of eyes looking out for her sister?  Someone who had a hope in hell of keeping her safe if the unthinkable happened?  Giles wouldn’t like it, but then she was doing a lot of things lately that would give Giles a stroke if he knew.

Spike touched a fingertip to her chin, tipping her face up so she was looking in his eyes.  Buffy inhaled, her breath shaky, nearly painful as it filled her lungs.

“Dawn is—she’s the Key.  Glory’s Key.”

If she hadn’t known the strength of vampires’ ears, Buffy would have though he hadn’t heard her.  No reaction, only a blank expression greeted her announcement, and for a whole three seconds things seemed so anticlimactic she nearly started laughing.  But whatever connections were struggling to form in Spike’s brain soon succeeded in joining ends, and he blinked and stared at her with his mouth gaping open and his eyes open so wide his eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead.

“But…how—?”

Dropping her voice to a whisper, Buffy told him what little she knew about Glory and the monks and her little-sister-that-wasn’t.

Spike dragged his palm down his face, glancing sidelong at her with his thumb resting on is chin.  “Bloody hell,” he said.  “And she doesn’t know a thing?”

“You can’t tell her.”  Buffy spun further around to face him and gripped his shoulders tightly.  “Promise me you won’t say anything—to anyone.”

Spike slid his hand along her bare arm and cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across it before leaning in to kiss her forehead.  “I won’t.  But she’s gonna find out—”

“No!”  Startling herself with the force of her cry, Buffy bit her lip and glanced toward the unlocked door, hoping she hadn’t woken Dawn.  “Just not now, please.  Let me get through one crisis at a time.”

By the look of his raised eyebrow and pursed lips, Spike had other thoughts on the matter, but whatever those were he kept them to himself.  Buffy wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or annoyed by it, but decided to let it go for now.  The room was rapidly growing lighter, which meant it was time to stop playing house and start playing life.

“We’re going back to the hospital as soon as Dawn’s up,” Buffy said.  “What are—I mean, are you going to go home?  Cause you could stay a while, if you wanted to sleep.”

He bit his lip, stifling what looked like it would have bloomed into a wide grin had he left it free.  “Afraid I’ll tear my blanket and turn to dust on my way home?” he asked, attempting to twist the smile into a leer, though she had spent enough time with him now to spot the difference.

She whacked him on the chest with the back of her hand, putting on her best annoyed-face, though she was sure he could see through her just as easily.  “Moron.  You gonna stay or not?”

He nodded once, and circled her breast with the tip of a finger.  “Join me?”

A jolt of arousal flared in her belly and her internal muscles clenched at the suggestion, but it wouldn’t be long before the day barged in and tore her away from that promised bliss, and she shook her head.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, and though he nodded and lay back on the bed, she couldn’t miss the flash of disappointment in his eyes or the bulge in the sheet wrapped around him.  “Later, okay?”

Might as well go with the inevitable.  She was no more ready to give up Spike than Glory was to give up searching for the Key.

Spike pulled her down for a kiss, lips caressing hers in a gentle farewell chock-full with promise.  He released her and lay his head on the pillow, smiling softly as she slipped on a bathrobe, gathered some clothes and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.  Dawn peeked out from her bedroom as Buffy walked by, yawning and brushing tangles out of her dark hair.  As she hopped into the shower, Buffy wondered how long Dawn had been awake and tried not to consider what she may have overheard — not their low-voiced discussion, but other noises that may or may not have woken her.

Don’t even think about it, Buffy.  One crisis at a time, remember?

With that thought in mind, Buffy let out a deep breath and grabbed the shower gel and her favourite pink pouf.

Time to wash away the night so I can face the day.

Somehow, she didn’t think a little bit of soap would be enough.

*~*