Sequel to the Bodyguard
Title: I Would Die For You
Season: IV, AU- no spoilers
Distribution: If you already have permission, take it. If not, just ask.
Disclaimer: Just playing with characters invented and owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and other big corporations with more money than I have.
Author’s notes: Follows immediately after the conclusion of The Bodyguard. Buffy has driven off with her watcher to take the partially-drained Riley back to the Initiative for medical treatment. Spike has walked Xander to his home, surprisingly cheerful for someone whose help was barely acknowledged by Giles, Xander and Riley. In his pocket is the queen chess piece that Dracula had used to keep his thrall on Buffy. As with The Bodyguard, this takes place in a very non-canon Spuffyverse in which Draclula makes his appearance during Season IV before Adam has emerged. If purists are upset about that, I’m sorry, but that’s where I put him in the first story, so that’s where we begin this one.
Spike waved a cheerful “good-night” to the bewildered boy and headed for his new home in a crypt in Restfield cemetery. When he had entered and lit a few candles, he took the chess piece from his pocket and placed it on a stone shelf next to small red candle.
“There you go, pet. All safe and sound with the Big Bad.”
He opened the small refrigerator he’d found in a pile of household items meant for the Salvation Army and took out a container of pigs’ blood. Making a face, he poured some into a cup and gulped it down quickly, getting no pleasure from the cold, foul-tasting liquid, but knowing he needed it after his battle with Angel. When he felt he’d eaten enough to replace any blood he might have lost earlier, he put the container away and got out a can of beer.
He settled in front of his TV set – courtesy of the same charity donations -- and popped the top on his beer can as he put his feet up on a box. The couch he was sitting on had been in an abandoned home – something Sunnydale seemed to have in abundance. He had no idea how long he might have to wait for Buffy to come to him, but he was confident she would. The expression on her face as her Watcher drove off with her and her erstwhile boyfriend in his small car told him they were not finished with each other.
He shifted himself uncomfortably, thoughts of Buffy having caused the usual reaction in his jeans.
Guess the question is, how much of that heat between us was because she was already in thrall to a master vampire and how much of it was real? Know it was real for me, but until the other night she’s never given me a look since that bloody engagement spell that had us all over each other. When she shows, it’ll probably be to tell me it wasn’t real and I should forget it if I want to stay undusted.
He stroked himself through his pants, trying to decide how long Buffy was likely to stay with her injured boyfriend and if he would have enough time to relieve some of the tension he’d been carrying around since he started spending the night in her room. Concluding that she would probably remain with the big soldier as long as he wanted her there, the vampire growled and unzipped his jeans. Torn between the desire for some quick sexual gratification and anger that she would not have come right to him, he quickly brought himself to a joyless, but relaxing, release.
Buffy paced impatiently while the Initiative doctors worked on Riley, rounding on her Watcher to demand, “What are they doing that’s so secret I couldn’t watch it? They have to give him blood and clean up his cuts. It’s not like this doesn’t happen every night in Sunnydale. I’ve seen it before!”
“I’m sure they have their reasons, Buffy,” he answered with deceptive mildness. “No doubt related to some rule invented by that mad harridan by whom he is employed.”
Buffy shook her head at the less than well-hidden dislike in the older man’s voice.
“Giles, that is really no way to talk about Professor Walsh.”
A disgusted, “Harrumph” was the only reply.
Eventually, a young soldier came out of the medical area and approached the anxious Slayer. He shifted uncomfortably under Buffy’s expectant gaze before gathering up his courage to say, “Professor Walsh thinks it would be better if you were to leave Agent Finn here to finish his treatment. He agrees and said to tell you he would call you tomorrow morning.”
“What?” Buffy’s irate clenching of her fist had an unfortunate outcome for the back of the chair on which she’d been resting her hand. The commando blanched when the wood crumbled under her fingers and he missed her mumbled, “Sorry”, as he backed quickly out of the room.
Refusing Giles’ offer of a ride back to her home, Buffy insisted she needed to work off some pent-up anger-- as well as needing to make up for taking the previous night off -- by doing a quick patrol before going home. She waved at the frowning man and headed directly for the Restfield cemetery where she knew Spike had found a new place to live. It had quickly reached the point where he and Xander were squabbling like siblings and she and the Watcher had finally agreed that it was all right for the neutered vampire to find his own place as long as they knew where it was.
She approached the crypt quietly, not sure if Spike would even be home yet. She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered the expression on his face when she and Giles had driven off with Riley, leaving the vampire who had gone against his own nature to save them to walk back to town with Xander.
He could have just gone off on his own and left Xander to find his own way home in the dark. I didn’t even think of that. When did I start assuming that Spike would protect my friends as well as me?
She faced the heavy wooden door, uncertain whether to knock or just push her way in – until she remember that Spike never knocked at her house unless her mother was home alone. He just walked in whatever door or window he chose. She reminded herself that that was actually a good thing at times - like, for instance, when I’m being bitten by a famous vampire..
From his place inside the crypt, Spike had felt her approach. He listened carefully, but could hear no other heartbeat that would indicate she was not alone. He quickly positioned himself on the couch, shutting his eyes and pretending to be asleep. He heard the door open and the sound of small feet coming hesitantly into the poorly-lit crypt; he was glad he’d taken the time to light some new candles before the old ones burned down. He made a mental note to get another lamp to go with the one he’d taken from the Harris’ basement.
Not that I know she’s going to be spending a lot of time here, or anything; but if she does, she’s going to want light.
Buffy entered the dim room hesitantly until she saw the vampire was sprawled on the couch, apparently asleep. The light of the flickering candles made the sharp planes of his face stand out and the way he was half-lying, half-sitting displayed his flat stomach and long, muscular legs in a way that made her mouth go dry. Shaking off thoughts of climbing on top of him to awaken him with a kiss, she approached quietly, saying softly, “Spike? Are you awake?”
When he didn’t respond, she came closer and reached over to shake his shoulder, ready to jump back if he awoke in game face. To her surprise, he only opened his eyes slowly and smirked at her.
“Don’t you know better than to startle a sleeping vampire, Slayer? Who’s to say I wouldn’t have bitten you before the chip kicked in?”
Buffy cocked her head at him and studied his laughing eyes for a second.
“You weren’t really asleep, were you, you big faker?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“Nope,” he agreed cheerfully, sitting up and patting the cushion beside him. “Just wanted to see what you’d do.”
Buffy blushed furiously, hoping he couldn’t read in her face what she had so briefly thought about doing.
“What did you think I was going to do?” she asked haughtily. “Kiss you or something?” She tried to put as much skepticism into her voice as she could.
He looked at her from under his long lashes and said softly, “No, luv. Then I would have known I really was asleep…and dreaming.”
The reminder that he had already shown her how much he would have enjoyed that kind of a wake-up call sent another burst of heat and color flooding her face and she turned away from where he was still patting the couch hopefully to look around the large stone room. In spite of the size and the cold stone walls, the candles gave the crypt a warm glow and she could see that Spike had tried to make a home out of what was essentially a large grave.
Several blankets and a large quilt were lying haphazardly on top of a stone sarcophagus. When she realized that was probably Spike’s bed, she quickly averted her eyes, scolding herself for being so prissy about looking at his bed when he’d spent the past two days sleeping in hers.
As she wandered around the room, following her eyes and trying not to look at Spike, she spotted the small white figure on the shelf near a guttering candle. She whirled to look at the vamplre.
He stood up in one smooth motion, walking over to where she was staring at the chess piece with a look of disgust and horror on her face. He watched as she reached a tentative hand toward the figure and said quietly, “It’s safe now, pet. As long as we keep it away from the bleedin’ poofter, it’s harmless.”
“How did it get here?” she demanded, her suspicions clear on her face. She remembered how it had felt when Dracula ran his hands over the piece – how she had felt every touch as though his hands were actually on her body. Dismay and disappointment filled her eyes as she contemplated the possibility that Spike had taken it for his own purposes.
Her tone and the look on her face felt like a knife in Spike’s gut as he realized what she was thinking. Before he could hide it, the pain and anger flared across his face and Buffy fell back before the raw emotion she could see there.
Her stumbling attempt at an apology was cut off by an abrupt hand motion from the vampire. “Here,” he snarled, snatching the queen off the shelf and handing it to her. “I got it for you. Thought you might feel safer if you knew where it was.”
Buffy stood silently, clutching the small plastic figure while Spike walked away from her to stand by the door.
“I ‘spect you’ll be wanting to leave now, Slayer,” he said tightly. “Got evil doers to slay, a boyfriend to coddle, important things like that. No need to waste any more time here.”
She stared at his angry face, wondering what had happened to her plan to come here and thank him for taking care of her so well. As usual, I’m suffering from Buffy-foot-in-mouth-disease. What can I do to make up for insulting him like that?
She walked slowly towards the now open door, trying to get the vampire to meet her eyes, but he stubbornly kept his gaze focused on a crack in the stone beside the door, refusing to acknowledge her attempts to make eye contact. Buffy dropped her head and started out the door Spike was holding open for her. She had already left the crypt and heard the door shutting behind her when she stopped suddenly and whirled around, kicking it open again.
She marched back into the crypt, pushing the surprised vampire on his chest until he backed up to where there was enough light for her to glare at him properly. Pulling the chess piece from the pocket in which she’d started to put it, she waved it in his face.
“If you wanted me to feel safe, shouldn’t this stay here? With my bodyguard? Or, are you tired of the job already?”
Her eyes challenged him to misunderstand what she was saying, and she was gratified to see the astonishment and anger in his amber stare fade back to a soft blue confused, but happy expression.
“Not tired, pet. Just didn’t think you needed…or wanted one anymore.”
“Well,” she admitted with a small smile, “I probably don’t NEED one anymore…But I got pretty used to having somebody watching my back.” She ducked her head shyly and whispered, “I kinda liked it.”
“Can always use somebody at your back,” he whispered back, stepping closer. “You never know when evil’s gonna try to sneak up on you.”
They stood close together, but not touching, each one searching the other’s eyes for some clue as to what they were trying to say. Buffy held the queen out slowly.
“So, shouldn’t this be here? With you?”
He closed his much larger hand around hers, folding her fingers around the figure.
“Actually, luv, it’s probably safer with you. Anything can get in here at any time. I wouldn’t put it past the oily bastard to send another vamp looking for it. You need to hide it somewhere in your house. Somewhere no one is likely to find it.”
Buffy stared at their two hands, her small, tan one wrapped inside his own larger pale one. When he loosened his grip, she reluctantly pulled hers away and tucked the figurine back into her pocket.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll hide it somewhere.”
“Alright. Good, then.”
Clearing his throat, he stepped away from her, walking back towards the TV set.
“So, what did you come by for, then, pet? Want some help with patrol tonight?”
He knew that Riley often tried to accompany Buffy on her patrols, but assumed the man wouldn’t be up to it that evening. He was mildly surprised that Buffy hadn’t stayed longer with the injured commando, but was reluctant to bring it up lest she feel guilty and go back to him.
“No…well, yes. I mean, that would be nice, but it’s not why I came here.”
He arched an eyebrow and waited for her explanation. When it wasn’t forthcoming right away he walked back to her and asked quietly, “Then why DID you come by?”
Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to his and said firmly, “I wanted to thank you for…for taking care of me…and for not…” she blushed, unsure how to say that she was grateful that he hadn’t taken advantage of her weakness. A small voice inside-- a voice that she quickly smothered – told her she’d have been just as happy if he had, and she blushed as she spoke.
“For not…?” The beginnings of a smirk played around his mouth and eyes.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” she huffed indignantly, albeit with a small smile.
“Oh yeah,” he said cheerfully. “Can’t wait for you to admit I’m not the pig you think I am.”
“Yes, you are!” she said indignantly. “You know you are.” Her voice softened again. “It’s just… this one time…you were a gentleman. And I…I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, luv,” he answered, suddenly serious again. Without his volition, his hand reached out to stroke her soft cheek and he almost groaned when she unconsciously leaned into his touch. “Would never take anything from you that you really didn’t mean to give.”
Buffy gave a small nod and stood on her toes, her mouth only inches from his as she murmured, “I really meant to give this.”
Her soft, full lips slid across his, her kiss sweet and sincere, as she thanked him. His own lips moved gently against hers, extending the kiss but making no attempt to deepen it. He cautiously put his arms around her waist, holding her lightly against his body until, with a soft sigh, she slid her hands around his neck. The warm, but relatively chaste kiss continued until she felt his erection pressing against her stomach; she sighed again and gently pushed him away, meeting only an instant’s resistance before he released her and dropped his hands to his sides.
He rested his chin against the top of her head briefly, then raised his head and stepped back.
“I’m sorry, luv,” he said softly. “I can’t help it. It’s what you do to me.”
Buffy blushed and wrapped her arms around herself as though suddenly cold.
“It’s okay, Spike,” she almost whispered. “It’s just I…and then there’s Riley…and you’re…and I’m…” She raised her eyes to his, surprising both of them with the tears she was blinking away. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” she admitted. “And I don’t want to mess up whatever it is we’ve got…Not that I’m saying we have anything,” she added quickly. “But, if we did, I don’t want to….it would be messy, you know?” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “I have a boyfriend. If I…if you…we…it would be cheating and I don’t do that.”
“It’s alright, Slayer,” he answered quickly. “Wasn’t expectin’ anything from you. I kept you safe because…” He struggled for a non-poncy reason. “Well, because I just couldn’t watch a good warrior get taken down by gypsy tricks. And, anyway,” he added with his most evil look, “I still plan to get this chip out and make you my third slayer.”
He reacted with indignation when her only response was a sarcastic “Yeah, right,” going into game face and growling fiercely. Ignoring his attempts to intimidate her, she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the door with a, “Come on, Big Bad. Let’s go kick some demon butt before the night’s over.”
With Buffy’s warm hand in his, Spike found it impossible to keep his demon face to the fore, following her meekly out into the night while muttering under his breath about “disrespectful bints”.
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