Chapter Eleven (A)

More AN: This chapter has two parts – Part A ends where it seemed to me a good place to stop. Part B continues on from there with some not terribly graphic R rated sex and some more talking that may or may not matter to anyone except Buffy and Spike. Part B is optional. You can skip it or read it. Won’t hurt my feelings either way. J

 

Spike stood uncertainly just inside the door, then joined her on the couch. He dropped his coat to the floor, took off his boots, and put his own feet up.

 

“You’re home, pet,” he said, putting an arm around her. “I’m homeless until I can find myself a nice little crypt or basement apartment.”

 

“You’re welcome to stay here,” she said, snuggling into his side as if they cuddled on the couch every night. “I mean, if you want to.”

 

“Don’t be daft,” he murmured, resting his chin on her head. “You know I want to. But I don’t want to be putting you out or interfering with your life.”

 

“Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Spike?”

 

He laughed and put both arms around her for a brief hug.  “He’s right here, love. Just don’t want to presume…”

 

“Presume away,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “There is absolutely nothing for you to interfere with.” She was quiet for a minute, then said timidly, “Can I… can I talk about… what… happened? Just for minute? To explain?”

 

She felt his body stiffen, but he gave a short nod and she began. “Those last few nights – before we went down into the hellmouth. Do you remember how you held me? How we held each other?”

 

“Could never forget that, Buffy. The best nights of my life, they were. Told you that then.”

 

She nodded and rested her head against his chest.  “You did.  Do you remember how long ago that was?”

 

He shrugged. “Not exactly, but I guess I could figure it out, if it’s important to you. Was a good bit ago, I know that. I’m not really sure how long I was off in bug world, though. Time was different there.”

 

“It’s important to me because that was the last time anyone touched me with… with affection. Well, except for Sat—but she—that doesn’t really count. I mean, it was nice, but it was only a couple of times, and it was more about the—”

 

“She?” Spike stared at Buffy, his eyes visibly glazing over as his mind tried to absorb what she’d said.  Buffy snapped her fingers under his nose.

 

“Earth to Spike. We’re having a serious conversation here. Try to focus!”

 

“Oh, I’m focusing, Slayer, believe it! You can’t throw something like that at me and then expect me to follow a conversation. Come on, love, be fair. I’m only… well, not human, obviously, but I’m only a man…” He peered at her hopefully. “Will there be details?”

 

“You’re only a pig, you mean.” She sat up straight, glaring at him until the lust disappeared from his face and he apologized.  When she was sure he meant it, Buffy snuggled back into his side and continued. “The point is, except for that little… experiment… no one had touched me except to try to hit me, in years. No hugs, no kisses, no… no nothing.  I was turning into a stone woman.”

 

She looked up at him with eyes suspiciously damp. “So, when Angel asked me if I wanted to be happy….” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to tell you that it was all the glowly stuff’s fault, but I don’t know.  I didn’t have any idea where you were, or even if you were still alive. And it’s not like when you were alive again you gave me any reason to think you still… okay, not going to beat that dead horse. Sorry. The point is, I was starved for affection and had no reason to think I was ever going to have it again. And all of a sudden, here was somebody who loved me… I thought… and he….”

 

Spike put a finger on her lips to stop her. “Don’t. I was a cowardly wanker. You were trapped by forces beyond your control.  Hell, even old grandpa wasn’t totally in his right mind all the time.  It’s over. Done. It’s a new day. Same old vamps and demons to worry about, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t some sort of mini-apocalypse come spring. But all that other stuff – it’s just a bad dream.”

 

“It wasn’t, you know. It was a nightmare, but it was real.”

 

“Work with me here, Slayer,” he growled. “What I’m trying to say is that you and me… we’re okay. We’re better than okay; we’re good. And we’re here. Alone. Together. And I think that bed is calling our names….”

 

“You are getting old,” she breathed, brushing her lips across his as she got to her knees and straddled him.  “What makes you think we’re going to make it to the bed?”

 

The (original) End

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven B (Optional)

AN For those who want to see the Spuffy lovin’ (such as it is, only R, you know), it continues below.

 

Epilogue

 

With a shout of laughter, he pulled her against his body and captured her mouth in a kiss that lasted until they were lying on the floor, tearing at each other’s clothing.  They came very close to getting into a fight over who was going to be first to kiss the other all over, and who was going to be the recipient of said kisses; finally compromising by taking turns until they were both breathing hard and Buffy was giving needy whimpers.

 

With a growl to rival one of Spike’s own, Buffy threw him down and lowered herself onto his cock. “Foreplay later,” she ordered, closing her eyes in contentment when she felt him filling her.  His fingers on her hips left bruises as he arched up off the floor, pulling her down at the same time. Buffy was squeezing him with each thrust, smiling when he began the familiar litany of praise for her skills. With a sudden movement, he flipped them over, never breaking his rhythm as her arms and legs came up around him in a powerful embrace. 

 

Their lovemaking was a combination of sensations from so long in the past they felt new, and the achingly familiar. The resulting mixture of experience and novelty brought them both to panting completion in no time.  They laid still, remaining entwined and enjoying the taste, feel and scent of each other until Spike’s cock made it known that he wasn’t done yet.

 

“That was kind of a record, even for us,” Buffy said, wriggling happily as she felt him swelling within her.

 

“Been storing that up for a long time,” he said, beginning to move slowly as he gazed down at her. “Never thought I’d ever be here again.”

 

“I’ve been waiting for this since you picked us up in your ship,” she said, dropping her eyes with uncharacteristic shyness. “You know, I never heard your explanation about the egg because I was too busy fantasizing about what I needed to say to you and having wonderful make-up sex.”

 

She felt his chest move against hers as he chuckled. “Wondered why your eyes glazed over,” he said. “But I just thought you were having one of those ‘Buffy only wants to know how to kill it’ moments. Didn’t know you were tuning me out so you could—” He stopped moving and kissed her, settling his hips down a little lower. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Buffy blushed with remembered shame. “I thought it was just the glowy stuff still making me act like a ho,” she admitted.  She wriggled against him, and bumped his chin with her head. “And anyway, you probably were too pissed off about the… about Angel… to want anything to do with me.”

 

He nodded. “You’re probably right at that. I’d have been right offended to think you’d go from him to me… and then back to….” His expression darkened and his eyes flared yellow.  “Yeah, it was probably for the best. One of us might have ended up dead.”

 

“Are you still mad at me?”

 

He shook his head, losing the yellow eyes and any trace of demon. “Was never really mad at you, love. I knew you didn’t know where I was—hell, I didn’t know where I was until we popped out here—and I had no reason to expect you to wait….” He gave his head another shake and lowered it to nuzzle the side of her neck, inhaling her scent without making any attempt to hide what he was doing.  “Wasn’t mad, Slayer. Just… jealous.  And it hurt.  Watching you kiss the big poof ‘hello’ back in Sunnydale was a pat on the cheek compared to what hearing the two of you breaking the sound barrier did to….” He stopped moving his hips, remaining still with his head hidden against her neck.  “It hurt, Buffy. More than I could have ever imagined.” He raised his head and met her now-brimming eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.  “But you still came to help.” She brushed one hand across his forehead. “You still came to help me.”

 

“Always will, love. If you don’t know that by now, you haven’t been paying any bloody attention at all.”

 

“I don’t deserve you,” she mumbled into his shoulder.  She felt him snort with laughter.

 

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t. The Chosen One doesn’t deserve to be saddled with an old vamp for the rest of her life.”

 

“That’s not how I meant that!” She nipped on the muscle running from his shoulder to his neck, smiling when he moaned and began to move almost against his will. “And you know it!”  She bit him again, for emphasis, and the moan became more of a snarl.

 

Rather than answer her, he fastened his mouth on hers, letting his body speak for him.  Buffy’s legs were wound around his, pulling her hips against him as her hands moved around the skin on his back and sides. Using her nails, she clutched him to her, knowing he wouldn’t mind the pain or the blood. When he went into his demon face and she felt his body change, she felt herself respond with an urgency and need that surprised her.

 

The quiet beginning evolved very quickly into a growling, biting, scratching, quest for completion that resembled a fight to the death more than it did sex between two people in love. While the Slayer and the old vampire clawed and wrestled their way to fulfillment, the rug and the coffee table suffered the consequences of being in close proximity to the action, ending up as tattered carpet and random pieces of wood.

 

“Whoa. Wow.”

 

“Bloody brilliant wow.”

 

Buffy turned her head. “We broke the table.”

 

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

 

“It wasn’t mine! It belongs to guy whose apartment this is.”

 

“I’ll buy him a new one. I’ll buy him two new ones. Worth every penny, that was.”

 

“It was, wasn’t it?” She gave him a sated smile and stretched.  “Do you think it’s safe to take this to the bed yet?”

 

He smiled back at her and rolled off, kissing her mouth when it went into an unhappy pout at the loss of his weight and cock.

 

“I think it could be. Still haven’t made love to you the way I want to.”

 

Buffy kissed his chest, nuzzled against him, then sat up. “We’ve got time,” she said.

 

“We do,” he agreed, sitting up with her. “All the time in the world.”

 

“No more good-byes?”

 

“No more good-byes. Not going anywhere that I can’t take you with me.”

 

“’kay, then.” She stood up, blushing when he ran appreciative eyes up her body. “Come on.” She held out her hand and led him into the bedroom.

 

The (second) End.