Chapter 6 All this Time


Buffy crouched over the smouldering fire, trying not to cry as she coaxed some little blue flames from the logs with the poker. Spike had gone back to the lake to find their clothes, angry at her terse statement that they could never be together in the way he wanted.

Cold fresh air swirled through the half open door, clensing the room of wood smoke and the lingering smell of the passion they’d indulged in all night.

“What on earth are you crying about, Summers?” she muttered to herself. “Spike isn’t your boyfriend and never will be. He’s useful and sexy and useful being sexy and you can’t upset him because he doesn‘t have feelings like humans do. He‘s a vampire. Why can’t you remember that?”

She heard a footfall behind her, but refused to turn and look at him. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face. Then a dreadful smell flooded the room - a mixture of sour milk, bad eggs and rotten meat clogged her nose and throat.

Coughing she spun round. Something was shuffling towards her - something sewage brown and rotting, its flesh lumpy and peeling. Eyes gleamed - three of them - from the ugliest face she’d ever seen on a demon.

And all the time, the dreadful, dreadful smell. She felt herself shaking - and fought against the faint. Forced a scream out of her mouth. “Spike! Spike!”

She backed away round the log cabin, her bare feet searching for a good grip on the wooden floor, kicking the rag rugs away as they threatened to trip her. The demon was wheezing and gasping, reaching out for her with long, wet hands, the flesh shedding off them in gobbets of filth.

Buffy realised she was still holding the poker and jabbed out with it, keeping the demon at bay. She knew instinctively she mustn’t let that flesh touch hers. She could see that where the moisture hit the wooden floor, little burn marks were appearing. This demon was dripping acid.

A leap took her on top of the table and a whirling lunge plunged the poker into its shoulder. it roared and backed away for a moment, then came back towards her again as Spike charged through the door.

“It’s a Tazksha demon,” he yelled. “Don’t let it touch you, Buffy.”

“I don’t care if it’s a doughnut demon, it stinks,” Buffy shouted back. “At least you’ve got your pants on. I’d like to see you fighting it, wearing next to nothing.”

She leapt off the table towards Spike, across the demon’s head. Spike’s hands reached out to catch her, even finding time to grin at the slim tanned legs flashing below the short towelling robe.

She pulled out of his grasp and swung the poker at the Tazksha again. This time she hit its head and it went down with a squelching roar. But as it fell, it lunged out with both hands. Buffy went to swerve aside, caught her bare foot in one of the rugs she’d earlier kicked aside and stumbled.

“Buffy!” In one swift movement, Spike pushed her away and took the full force of the dying demon on his bare chest.

His yell of agony cut through Buffy, turning her stomach to water. She grabbed his arm and pulled him out from under the Tazksha but she could see that the damage had been done. Spike was unconscious, his bare chest and arms brutally burnt by the acid flesh.

“Oh god, oh god, no, Spike! Spike!” She dragged a cushion off a chair and thrust it gently under his head. “Stupid vampire,” she muttered. “Couldn’t dodge something that big and squelchy.”

She could hear the tremble in her voice and see it in the hand she ran carefully down his cheek, thanking all the gods in all the dimensions that his face was untouched. If it had gone in his eyes - she felt sick. She knew vampires healed fast, as did Slayers, but she was pretty sure they couldn’t grow new eyes.

“But why should I care,” she whispered unhappily. “I don’t understand.”

She stared down at the burn marks across the curves and planes of his chest. Only hours before she hadn’t been able to get enough of touching him, her flesh craving the feel of his against it. And now -

A hissing sound made her look up to see the Tazksha dissolving into a brown, muddy puddle of filth, the acid draining away between the wooden floor boards.

The door creaked back and forth in the breeze. It was getting lighter outside. Dawn was here already and the sun would soon be far too bright for Spike.

Buffy stood up and hunted round the log cabin. It was easier to explore now there was some daylight. In the dark the night before, she hadn’t noticed a small trunk tucked away on one side of the room. Inside were several bikinis and - joy of joys - a pair of shorts.

She shucked off the towelling jacket and pulled on a red bikini top and the white shorts. They were hideously tight but at least she felt half dressed and not quite so vulnerable.

Spike groaned and she spun round and sank to her knees beside him. “Spike - can you hear me?”

There was a long pause, then another groan, “Slayer....what the hell happened. Bloody hell, that hurts like - bloody hell!”

“Don’t move. The demon fell against you. You’ve got burns all across your chest and arms - ”

“No need to tell me that, sweetheart. Can tell from the pain. Observant like that, you know.”

Buffy gave a silent sigh of relief. If he was being sarcastic already, he couldn’t be that badly hurt - could he?

“I have to thank you. You...you saved my life...”

Spike slowly opened his eyes a slit and tried to focus on her. “No, just saving the assets I enjoy, pet. Didn’t want those beautiful breasts of yours all scorched. Don’t like my meat too well grilled.”

Buffy pulled the cushion out from under his head with one yank and it thudded down hard on the wooden floor.

‘Ouch!”

“Oh sorry, did that hurt?” she said sweetly.

“What happened to the thanks for saving my life speech?”

She grinned and wriggled closer to him on the floor, pulling the platinum head onto her lap. “You’re much nicer when you’re unconscious, Spike. Just be quiet for a while and let the burns start to heal. It’s too light to leave now.”

Spike closed his eyes, and she felt the powerful muscles begin to relax one by one as she stroked the blond curls into a riot.

She hoped he would sleep because she reckoned the pain was going to be very bad once he was fully awake. She shuddered. What if she’d lost him? The demon could have pushed him into the sunlight that was already splashing across the trees and bushes outside. The margin between happiness and despair was that narrow and suddenly she realised that if he wasn’t in her life, then nothing made sense.

“You can get back across the lake, Buffy,” he muttered suddenly. “The boat’s still there. It isn’t far.”

“Hush. I told you to be quiet. I’m not going anywhere, and anyway, I don’t think Buffy and boats are a very happy combination. I can’t work out how you row backwards so you can’t see where you’re going.”

There was a long pause and she wondered if he’d finally drifted off, then he muttered wearily, ‘“You once said the only chance I’d ever get of sleeping with you was when you were unconscious. Remember?”

Her hand on his head paused and she stared down at the man lying in her lap - at the high cheek bones, the dreadful burns on his white skin, the sprawl of the slender but powerful legs in the tight dark jeans.

He’d been there for her all these years, enemy, ally, friend, lover, and all she’d insisted on seeing was vampire. And now she was beginning to see that it didn’t matter what he was, it was who he was that was so vitally important.

‘What a fool I was,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Fighting you all this time.” She took a deep breath and bent her head till it was almost level with his. “You know, don’t you, Spike. You’ve known all this time - that I love you.”

And she waited for the world to explode until she realised the vampire was fast asleep.


to be continued

Glad of any comments that my friends out there might have about this story. I do enjoy writing it so much.