Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

Out of My Head	By : agalaxyinblueeyes Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 2790 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-out of my head
- 2-part i
- 3-part ii
- 4-part iii
- 5-part iv
- 6-part v
- 7-part vi
- 8-part vii
- 9-part viii
- 10-part ix
- 11-part x
- 12-part xi
- 13-part xii
- 14-part xiii
- 15-epilogue
- 4
- 5
- 6
Out of My
Head

...part IV...

He walked up to Giles’ home,
letting out a sigh. Things were bad. Very, very bad. He figured
that since the Scoobies seemed to need a meeting place, they
would most definitely be here. Maybe they’d have some worth
of information for him. Anything right now – from any one
– would help him out. He knocked on the door as he opened
it.
And was met by five very, very
angry Scooby faces. The ones that probably worried him the most
were the ones from a certain red head and a former Watcher. A
certain angry redhead that also happened to be a witch,
and a former Watcher that had dabbled in the black arts as a
youth.
<This could be bad,>
he
thought. Finally Xander spoke up, standing up and letting go of
Anya. Who he realized looked more excited at the upcoming
exchange than vengeful. Xander shot him a sarcastic smirk.
"Riley. To what do we owe...
this?" he asked, spreading his arms out and indicating that
he really meant, "This isn’t your place
anymore. Why the fuck are you here?"
That was definitely bad. Xander was
giving him the attitude that he only reserved for a particularly
annoying bleach blonde vamp.
Riley Finn took a deep breath and looked
around at the group. Please, please, at least ONE friendly face
that wouldn’t cast any harsh judgment on him...
Okay, okay, so he’d called Buffy a
vamp whore. That was at the very top of the Very Big List of Very
Wrong Things to Say to a Slayer. Every single person in this room
was close to Buffy in some way – well, except for
Willow’s, um, girlfriend (the thought that Willow was a
lesbian still wigged him out a little). So there was no way that
anyone would be on his side here. Willow looked like she was
restricting herself from zapping his eyelids shut and siccing
some flesh-eating scarab beetles on him. Xander cleared his
throat and folded his arms, while Giles stood up, a silent vigil
behind him.
"Are we gonna hear an answer
sometime today, Commando Boy?" Riley winced. Eeek. Bad.
Xander was calling him those – the names that – that Spike
had taken to calling him. Damn, he’d made one
mistake, and he’d already been dropped lower on the ladder
than a soulless, remorseless vampire. The thought made him
shudder.
"No, uh... I mean, yeah. Listen,
guys, she’s really mad at me, and I really want to
apologize, believe me, but she won’t let me anywhere near
her. I was out of my head that night, I don’t know what
I was thinking. I know I hurt her, and I’m really, REALLY
sorry about it. But I need your help. I have to talk to
her."
The minute he’d started talking,
Willow had gotten up and walked out of the living room toward
Giles’ study, content to stay angry at Riley, and Tara had
followed to calm her down. Anya, sensing some big male thing was
coming, had wanted to stay, but knew better. She got up and left
the three men alone in the living room to sort things out. This
could be bad. He was up against Buffy’s surrogate father,
and surrogate older brother. There was no way he wasn’t
gonna get shot down. Xander looked at him.
"Man, you are so lucky that
Anya’s not a demon anymore, and that Willow just let you off
with a Death glare. Otherwise, you’d be Crispy-Fried Riley,
right there on the floor. And I doubt Giles is up to cleaning
your mess –" Giles held his hand up and shot the
dark-haired boy a look.
"Quiet, Xander." Turning to
Riley, he considered him for a moment before speaking. "You
called her nothing short of a prostitute, Riley. She’s never
asked for vampires to bite her," he said. "She
commanded Angel to in order to save his life. The Master took her
blood by force. And she allowed Dracula to, just as she allowed
Spike to take her blood. It’s a miracle Spike didn’t
kill her – she and I were both certain that he would’ve
drained her given half the chance. She is the Slayer; every
vampire in the world wants a taste of her. Spike has even
mentioned to us before that her blood is a powerful and
strengthening force. They want it. It’s not her fault."
Riley rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
"I know, I know. It’s just,
that night, when I found her, I was still a little angry about
what she said to me last time. About me trying to control her? I
was angry, and frustrated. And then it was coupled with what
she’d said about being a vampire chew toy. And when I found
her, this big vamp was on top of her, getting ready to bite her.
I don’t know what she did, though. He was perfectly ready to
sink his teeth into her, and then he just took off." Xander
raised his eyebrows at the fair-haired boy, thoroughly
unimpressed.
"And that led to you believe that
she’s a vamp whore?" Xander shook his head.
"Riley... I don’t know what your deal is. And if
it’s jealousy issues, you need to get them way under
control. Otherwise, just get the hell out of Sunnydale, and leave
Buffy alone."
Riley watched quietly as Xander turned
and left the room. Uh-oh. Alone with Giles. This could be life
threatening.
Giles remained quiet for a bit, not
facing him. He watched as the older man lifted his hand up to rub
his brow. His glasses weren’t on. Was that a bad sign?
He’d only been around Buffy’s friends for a year, and
he hadn’t exactly gotten a handle on their habits. He was
jolted back to reality when Giles turned his head and looked up
at him, clearing his throat loudly, his eyes cold and unfeeling.
"I have no idea what possessed you
to refer to my charge in the manner you did. Fortunately for you,
I have found a way to control my anger over it." He stalked
up to Riley, steeling his gaze and looking pure Ripper. "But
my method shan’t last long. If, and when you make
another mistake, you will truly wish you had never tangled with
the Slayer." Giles turned to walk out, then fell back to say
something else.
"I will do anything to see that
Buffy is happy. And I will ensure that my Slayer stays
happy. If keeping her far away from you is the way to go about
that, then I shall continue to do so. As long as she is content
and relaxed in the situation she is in, and competent in her
slaying, as she is now, then rest assured you will not come
within striking distance of the girl ever again." He
scowled, his eyes narrowing. "Get out of my house."
Wow. He’d never encountered Giles
in full Ripper force before.
He sighed as Giles left the room before
he himself turned to walk out of the door. Buffy was happy
without him? Buffy was happy without him? To borrow a
Scooby phrase, this was NOT of the good!
He thought she was happy with
him. At least, that was what she’d always told him.
Something was wrong, something had to be wrong. He
couldn’t just be out of the picture like –that- could
he? He couldn’t live without this girl. And he was
pretty damn sure it was the same on her end. Something had to be
manipulating her, making her seem happy and fine, when
truthfully, she must be miserable inside without him
there!
*
Channeling Cordelia Chase. Hold
please.
Calling all ego-maniacs, please
report to Riley Finn. We repeat, all ego-maniacs, please report
to Riley Finn at headquarters. Make sure your ego’s been
fully inflated. Twenty times it’s own size is the minimum
limit.
*
He shook his head and walked back to his
apartment. Where the hell had that come from?
Something was up with Buffy, and he had
a vague feeling that he knew who was behind it. He’d get to
the bottom of this, even if it killed him.
Which, knowing Sunnydale, it probably
would.

Spike stormed through the graveyard,
kicking down headstones left and right and snorting with
satisfaction when they hit the ground and crumbled.
Needless to say, he was pissed off.
It was three days later, and he was still
stewing over it. He hadn’t killed that girl! Instead,
he’d actually let the little bitch go and gone back to the
fucking butcher’s!

< It's all her fault. >

It was her face he’d seen when
he’d attempted to eat the girl. She had stopped him.
He’d nearly freaked out – thank God he’d kept his
cool. But when his mind’s eye had seen Buffy’s face in
the girl’s, he’d honestly thought that he’d made a
mistake and attacked the wrong person. The person he had the
warm, fuzzy feelings for (he still couldn’t bring himself to
say the ‘L’ word – yet) instead of some stupid
unsuspecting brat.
That did it. Buffy was dead meat.
He sprang over a headstone, and darted
through a few more, never stopping, always running in the
direction of her home.
"I’ll show her," he
muttered, arm shooting out and stabbing a minion without even
looking. "I’ll show that little bitch. I’ll make
her pay for tryin’ to give me a fuckin’ soul. I’ll
make her pay for gettin’ me to pay attention to her an’
that stupid brat sis of hers, an’ that stupid hair an’
stupid perfume. An’ those big, puppy dog eyes of hers.
An’ the way they crinkle when she laughs. An’ that
silly, soddin’ bump on her nose. An’ that... GAH!
I’m gonna kill her! She’s turned me into a fuckin’ poofter!"
He nearly ran into a tree from his
passion on the topic.
That’s when he realized that he was
right outside her house. Grumbling, he hoisted himself into the
tree and climbed to her window. Looking about as he sat on her
sill, he sighed, then climbed inside.

Buffy was content. There wasn’t
much else to be said but that. Riley hadn’t bugged her since
that night at the cemetery, and while she felt thoroughly
disappointed that he wasn’t going to humiliate himself in
front of her by getting down on his knees and apologizing, she
was glad that she didn’t have to put up with his stupid
bullshit anymore. And Xander had called her and told her that
Giles had told him off. She was actually pleased to be away from
him. True, they hadn’t actually broken up; they were just
apart. Far apart. But that nasty tension that was always there
when they were near each other anymore was completely dissolved.
The only thing she wasn’t sure
about was Spike. She hadn’t seen him for three
nights, either.
It worried her a little. Spike was as
free as a freaking bird now. Nothing could stop him from killing,
and she was wigged that he might be hiding out, making plans for
her demise. Despite all the touchy-feely-ness that he’d
suddenly seemed to develop when he was near her, she was still...
yes... scared... that Spike’s full reemergence as the Big
Bad of Sunnydale would result in her death.
Otherwise, she was just peachy.
"No, really?"
"Yuh-huh. Tara, Anya, Xander, and I
were listening from the door. Giles was mad... He was
going all Ripper and everything. It was pretty darn
freaky, but at the same time, it was soooo cool!"
Buffy laughed. "It serves him right
for calling me a whore! I told you he was getting all
passive-aggressive on me!" Willow giggled on her end of the
line.
"Well, it was fun to watch. Riley
didn’t even say anything when Giles told him to get out. He
just stood there, kinda all ‘dur, what do I do now?’
until Giles left, and then he walked out the door. I think Giles
freaked him out a little too well. The funny thing is, I think
Giles is proud of himself for it!" Buffy snorted, turning a
corner and heading up the steps to her room.
"Okay, yeah, that’s
funny. Giles all proud of himself because he scared the hell out
of my ignorant boyfriend? God, I wish I could’ve seen that!
Anyway, I’ve gotta go, Wills. Professor Randall is gonna
shit a brick if I fall asleep in class one more time."
Willow agreed.
"Same here. And we thought
Professor Walsh was a stickler, right? I’ll see you
tomorrow, Buffy." Buffy yawned as she turned down her
hallway, knocking gently on Dawn’s door as an indication to
turn off the music and go to sleep. She heard the teenager
grumble and moan, but do as was implied. "Goodnight,
Buffy!" she called out.
"Can do, Wills. Goodnight.
Goodnight, Dawnie!"
"’Night, Buffy. Tell Dawn I
said goodnight!"
"Willow says goodnight!" Buffy
called through the door. Dawn hollered back a
‘goodnight’ for the witch before her lights went out.
Chuckling to herself, she turned off the phone. After a short
stop in her mother’s room for a hug and kiss goodnight,
Buffy retreated to her bedroom. Where she heard voices.
Well, not so much voices as one
voice.
One specific voice.
"What the fuck did you do to
me, you stupid bitch?" she heard him growl. Buffy winced.
Shit; why was he in her room? Hadn’t she told him to leave
her alone? She peeked through the doorway and saw that he was
pacing and tossing his hands in the air, dressed in his usual
black 1980’s tribute to Billy Idol. A pair of tight –
really tight – (damn, he was lucky he had no circulation)
black jeans; a black T-shirt that looked as if it had been
spray-painted on; his usual black leather duster, swishing about
and lapping at his legs with his every move; and a pair of thick,
black, clunky army boots that looked right at home on the pale,
goth–like vampire. He turned then, and she caught a glimpse
of a heavy silver chain around his neck, and a big,
silver-buckled belt around his waist.
"I mean, it was bad enough when
that stupid piece of tin was in my head, shocking me every damn
time I tried to do something, but this is just bloody ridiculous!
You’ve made me bloody powerless! Again! I swear this is how
you get your kicks, innit? As if you didn’t do enough
to destroy my life ever since I bloody met you, now this!"
Okay. It was a REAL good thing
that Mom and Dawn – pardon the expression – slept like
the dead. She pushed the door open fully, her eyes darting about,
and stared incredulously at what she saw.
Spike was yelling at a picture.
Her picture, to be precise.
He’d propped it up on her dresser, and now looked to have
completely lost his mind. It took everything she had not to drop
down on the floor and laugh – over and over and over –
hysterically.
"What the hell are you doing? Have
you finally cracked?"
Spike spun around, his blue eyes
widening into a ‘deer-caught-in-headlights’ stare. The
shock lasted barely one second before dissolving into rage.
"I may very WELL have, and
it’s your fuckin’ fault! You ruined me, you
stupid bint!" Buffy rolled her eyes.
"Spike, WHAT are you talking about?
What the hell did I do?"
Spike rushed her, pulling back an arm
and hitting her. "You made me fuckin’ impotent! I tried
to eat a kid the other night, but when I fuckin’ looked at
her, I saw your prancy, martyr-y,
holier-than-all-thou-scum-of-the-earth face, and I couldn’t
kill her!"
Buffy barely heard him. She was too busy
returning his punch. "Don’t fucking hit me! You
don’t even have the right to be in my room, Spike, get out!
I told you to leave me alone!"
Spike smirked and backed up, tossing
himself on her bed. "Yeh, you did, luv. But you never told
me to stop vistin’. So here I am. An’, might I add,
I’m damn ready to beat the tar outta you, you little
twig."
Buffy scowled and threw a stuffed animal
at him. The miniature teddy flew through the air and bounced off
his forehead, but all he did was laugh. "Get off of
my bed!"
Spike raised his eyebrows and wriggled
his long body against the mattress, making himself more
comfortable. "Nope. Don’t think so, kitten. I rather
like it where I am." He grinned dementedly. "It really is
quite comfy, you know. Why don’t you come and join me?
I’m sure we could think of something... productive to
do." He winked. Buffy marched over to him, lifted him up by
the shirt (not that there was much shirt to grab on to) and threw
him bodily across the room. Spike was still shooting her that
insane grin.
"Oooh, getting the urge to
man-handle me, are we, luv?" Well, damn. It figured –
Spike liked that! Buffy shot a glimpse at him, sprawled on
her floor, cocky, seductive grin in place, and a really big <get
your eyes back up here right this instant, Buffy!> She
turned away from him, blushing and flustered. William the Bloody
absolutely, positively did NOT exist below the waist!
"Spike, you need to leave. NOW.
Please, just get out. I’m sure you have other things to do,
and really, you’re just wasting your time here right now and
– and – what the hell are you doing?!" she
squeaked. Upon turning around, she saw that Spike had picked up
Mr. Gordo. He was now sniffing at the stuffed pig as if it was
some interesting sort of fungus, curiosity as well as mild
amusement written on his face.
"How long have you had this thing,
pet? Ever think to wash it up a bit once in a while?" Before
she could stutter out an answer, his attention had drifted
elsewhere, and he tossed Mr. Gordo over his shoulder. He turned
and began rummaging through her dresser drawers.
Buffy, wide-eyed and horrified -- hello,
perverted, and apparently depraved vampire going through her underwear
drawer! – caught the airborne piggy and returned him to his
rightful place on her bed before dashing to Spike’s side and
pulling at his jacket in an attempt to get him away from her
things.
"Spike, stop it! Get away from my
stuff!" A sharp kick to the shin made him yelp, but he still
didn’t budge, and just brushed her away, burrowing deeper.
"Leave it be, luv, what’ve you
got to hide in here? Lemme – OW! – lemme look!... well,
well, lookie here!" Buffy’s eyes bugged out, and she
swiped at Spike.
"Put that back!" she hissed.
Spike grinned wickedly, dangling her dark blue teddy (a present
from Riley – one that was probably gonna find a resting
place on the scrap heap) above her head. She growled at his
immaturity and jumped up to grab it, Spike laughing all the
while.
"You want it back so badly, put a
little effort in it! Hop to it, luv!" he teased.
He actually managed to keep her going
for about a minute, yanking it out of her reach every time she
neared it, until something clicked, and Buffy stopped.
"What am I doing?" she asked
out loud, then aimed a punch at Spike’s stomach. Spike
yelped and head-butted her as he doubled over, sending her
sprawling right on her ass. Snickering, he pounced on her, only
to immediately find himself being flipped onto his back, Buffy
straddling his waist with one leg on either side of him. She
yanked her lingerie out of his grasp and shoved it quickly under
the bed. When she looked down, Spike was watching her. The look
on his face read more of curiosity and contemplation, rather than
24/7 lust-y thoughts. She frowned and thumped him hard on the
chest.
"What is wrong with you? My
mom and Dawn are asleep, and you have to come in here, crashing
around like you’re in a goddamn zoo? Do you think
they’re deaf? And what’s with you digging around in my
stuff? There’s a reason they are called private,
Spike!" She sat up, staring down at him. "Why are you
here anyway? Why won’t you leave me alone? It’s not
rocket-science to figure out that I don’t –"
"Buffy." Spike was smiling.
Not leering, not smirking, not sneering. Smiling. The sight of
one very, very rare genuine Spike smile threw her off
track. She replied with a very eloquent, "Wha?"
Spike shook his head, gazing at her
almost fondly. "Shut up." That snapped her back to the
real world, and she scowled.
"I most certainly will –"
Oooh. Spike lips.
Spike pulled Buffy close, letting out a
soft purr. His lips softly danced over hers, his arms wrapping
around her waist. He’d tried to be mad at her, he really
had. But she looked too damn cute when she was embarrassed and
blushing.
It was a decidedly couple-ish thing that
he’d just pulled with her, yanking the negligee about,
always out of her grasp, but he was really starting to not
give a fuck.
She was an amazing fighter. The most
powerful Slayer he had ever come across in all his 121 years. An
absolutely glorious being. And as long as he didn’t do
anything to fuck up the mini sliver of a chance he was uncovering
with her, he’d still have the feel of those soft, sweet,
strawberry lips against his own.
Besides. Those growing warm and fuzzies
were starting to make him feel pretty damn good.
Grunting softly, he rolled over, pulling
her with him. He stumbled as he attempted to stand up and gently
tugged her up with him, nearly tripping over their feet as he
fumbled his way to the bed. His tongue slid out lightly and
pressed against her lips, and she sighed softly as Spike
playfully pushed her back on the bed, not straying too far as he
fell right on top of her.
His kisses grew more firm and demanding,
but were soothing and caressing at the same time, as if he knew
she would freak out any other way. She gave into the kiss,
wrapping her arms around his neck and responding sweetly, tugging
lightly on one of his flaxen curls. He replied with another low
purr and nuzzled against her, moving his lips away from her and
down to her neck. Lightly nipping at her skin, he brought his
hand up to run over her stomach, making her shirt shimmy its way
up. He felt her tense, then relax.
Slowly sliding his hand up her shirt,
Spike trailed a thumb along the swell of her breast. Buffy
whimpered and writhed under him, her hands moving of their own
volition, reaching down and tugging at his shirt. He grunted
softly and shrugged off his duster, tossing it to the floor,
before complying to her wishes and tugging his shirt off.
Buffy’s fingers immediately darted to his chest, stroking,
rubbing, pinching at his nipples, and making him want her farther
beyond all reason. Spike pulled his lips away from hers and
ducked down, his cool tongue making contact with the taut muscles
of her stomach and moving upwards. Buffy arched upwards,
revealing more skin, and a low rumble escaped from his throat.
"Lift up your arms," he
mumbled hoarsely, and Buffy obeyed, raising them above her head.
Spike slowly pushed her shirt up, over her stomach, over her
breasts, her head, and finally tossed it to the floor. His gaze
was a mix of heated passion and desire. His eyes showed something
else... something she couldn’t exactly decipher.
Since the shirt she’d been wearing
had been nothing more than a little scrap of lace, she’d
worn nothing under it, and Spike was treated to quite the view.
Hunger welled up, and he dove down on her, latching his lips onto
one of her soft little nipples, sucking roughly. His cool fingers
found her other breast and cupped it lightly, massaging it as his
thumb stroked the nipple. It became a rosy-brownish hue in his
grasp and hardened considerably quickly. Buffy moaned and lifted
a hand to his hair, stroking the altered blonde locks as she
pressed his face down on her breast at the same time. Sparks
began flying in front of her eyes, and she could feel herself
becoming dizzy from Spike’s ministrations.
Spike’s lips parted and he pulled
away from the raw, hard red nipple he’d been sucking on.
Choosing not to torture her by attacking the other, he tilted his
head down and licked her chest, creating a cool, wet path to her
throat. The heat from her skin was absorbed into his, and Spike
groaned loudly, his arousal becoming evident against Buffy’s
right leg. Buffy likewise let out a moan from the touch of his
cold skin against her overheated body, and she tugged him closer.
Her movements left absolutely no space free between them.
But it still wasn’t close enough.
The tip of his tongue made a circle
around his mark before brushing roughly over the twin punctures.
Buffy cried out softly, a burst of several feelings colliding
with each other inside of her, and if she hadn’t been
aroused before then, she most definitely was now, several times
over. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she realized that this
reaction was a little odd, since all he’d done was lick the
scars he’d left on her.
But right now, it all felt too damn
good. So she gave it the brush off.
Spike’s hands moved down and he
began fiddling with the buttons on her pants. His desire for her
was getting the best of him, and it might’ve proved to be
bad if a certain annoying pang didn’t keep distracting him.
He snarled softly and shoved it away, trying to concentrate fully
on Buffy. His hands moved slowly and surely, gently, teasingly
over her body, igniting those same little paths of icefire that
she’d felt the first time that he’d put his hands on
her body. Oh, god, he wanted to feel her, taste her, be inside of
her, feel her sweet, rich blood running down his throat, and for
the love of God he HAD to get her to reciprocate his claim!
Buffy heard his snarl and was jolted
back. She pulled away from him and looked up at him in
bafflement. She’d never seen Spike be so beast-like,
yet so gentle at the same time. Well, not with anyone except
Drusilla. It was unnerving, but it felt... good. Really... really...
good.

< Nice, gentle Spike. Not
mean, hurtful Spike. I can live with that. >

This was Spike. Bad, mean, rude, annoying
Spike. The one that had rampaged all over Sunnydale last year to
get the Gem of Amarra. The one that had told her that Parker and
Angel had thought her not worth a second go. And now, he made her
feel things that were infinitely stellar compared to Riley.
How did that work?
"Spike," she whispered. He was
so close. So, so close. One more kiss would do her in. She knew
it would. She couldn’t control herself. God, one more kiss,
and she would give into him. She would let him take over, take
control, and let him in. He was right there, and she was finally
willing...
It couldn’t hurt. Right?
Spike frowned down at her, feeling
something twitch inside of him from the way she was staring. The
human side of him that had been hidden when his demon had
inhabited his body... William... was pushing his way
through, making himself be known. His conscience was coming back,
and Spike was especially aware.
This is wrong. You can’t do
this to her. You’ll hurt her more than anyone could if you
keep showing her your bestial hormones and allow this to
continue, dragging her along. You’ve got to stop now, before
you ruin it all.
Before I ruin what?
Everything. Whatever it is
that’s growing between you two. You’ve got to stop
pushing and teasing her. If there’s something there, and you
keep on with your nit-like tendencies, you’ll destroy it.
Bugger off for a while. Leave her be.
He must’ve been slightly off his
nut. The ponce was making sense.
Spike made a decision.
He slid off of the Slayer. Sliding on
his duster, he grabbed his shirt and walked toward the window
bare-chested. Buffy sat up in alarm.
"Spike? Where’re you
going?" Spike paused at the sill, his head down. Moonlight
streamed in through the darkness, illuminating him, and Jesus
Christ, if she didn’t know any better, she would swear that
he was an angel.
Pfft. That’d be the day.
He looked up, his head cocked at an
angle, and gazed at her. Flushed cheeks, tousled honey colored
curls, topless, small perfect breasts heaving, green eyes lit
with desire, blood pumping with exhilaration, heart pounding with
intense need. She was an Aphrodite.
Dammit all to hell.
"Home, luv." His tone of voice
let her know that he wouldn’t answer any questions. He would
just go, then reemerge when needed, as usual.
But she couldn’t just let him go.
Not now. She stood up and grabbed a shirt, covering herself up
with it. Walking over to him, she tilted her head, then reached
up and tentatively touched his face. Then carefully, she leaned
up and kissed his cheek.
"Will you be all right?" Spike
tossed her his usual cocky, casual smile. Albeit only on the
cheek, he was slightly stunned that she’d kissed him –
of her own volition. Not to mention he was really, really
pleased.
"Just fine, Slayer." He
wiggled his eyebrows. "See you in a coupla nights." He
started to leave, then, unable to resist, looked at her again,
mischievousness glittering in his eyes. "Make sure I’m
there when you finally grab the big nit by the short an’
curlies an’ toss him out, won’t you, ducks?" Buffy
put a hand on his shoulder.
"You’ll have a front row
seat," she promised, offering him a small, cheeky smile.
Spike drew a sharp breath, trying not to let on to his
astonishment. She’d freely offered him a smile.
Maybe that poofy git William was right.
Maybe they were on their way to something. Something good.
He grinned back at her.
"Right, then. Ta, Slayer. An’
make sure you keep that little bit of yours away from me.
She’s gettin’ too nosy," he replied, chuckling.
Without waiting for a response, he climbed out of the window and
slid into the tree, then jumped gracefully to the ground.
Buffy peered out of her window, watching
him leave. A small frown touched her lips. Her good mood slowly
drifted away, and now she was just confused and weary. She put
her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had just done,
and with whom she’d done it with. Turning away
from the window, she sat on her bed, the waves of humiliation
welling up inside of her. Tears formed in her eyes.
What was going on? Why was he doing this
to her? Hadn’t it been enough when he’d simply broken
her with his words, but now he had to go and physically torture
her, too? She leaned into her pillow.
"Oh, god," she whispered. Her
willpower snapped, and she began to sob.

As soon as Spike was sure he was out of
sight, he looked back toward the big house on Revello Drive and
shut his eyes tightly, a huge frown drawing down his once smiling
face. He leaned against a tree and slid down to the ground,
covering his face with his hands. The moonlight glinted off of
the bared expanse of the alabaster smooth skin that was visible
beneath his duster.
Fuck. It was happening. It was really
happening. He’d let himself do it. He couldn’t believe
he’d let himself sink so deeply. It was one thing to lust
after the Slayer. It was an entirely different thing to fall in
love with her.
His dream had told him the truth.
He’d fallen in love with Buffy.
If the demon world found out about this,
he’d be nothing but sod on the pavement.
He prepared to shove his shirt into his
duster pocket, when the wind blew, and a heady scent set off the
neon light in Spike’s mind that was marked BUFFY. He
looked down, scrutinizing the ‘scrap of lace’ he’d
pulled off of her. A plain white halter-top. He’d been so
distracted that he’d grabbed her shirt by mistake and left
his own on the floor of her room. He nodded slowly, then sighed.
Then let out a frustrated growl.
He got up and stormed down the road,
both disgusted and confused by his strange reactions to a love
that broke all the rules three times over. He growled in fury,
perplexion covering his eyes.
"I need to kill something," he
muttered, ducking into the nearest cemetery.
Stupid fucking entities. Why
couldn’t the miserable buggers just leave him be?

Eight days. Eight fucking days, and not
one single glimpse of her. She hadn’t let him come near her
in eight fucking days.
He was dying.
Nobody was even helping him out! The
girl had said it herself – "don’t come near me
again unless it’s to apologize."
Well, he was more than damn ready to
apologize. If she would just let him near her to do so!
"Fine," he muttered. When he
hadn’t been out trying to get close to her, he’d been
holed up in his apartment. No one had been able to contact him
– he refused to talk to even Graham. He pulled his boots
one, grabbed his gun belt, slid it on and pulled his vest over
it. "If she won’t let me see her, I’ll just
have to –" he cocked his gun and set the safety,
"—force my way in."
Sliding the gun into its holster, he
grabbed his keys and walked out.
It didn’t take long to get to her
house – he could’ve taken his Jeep but, well, he
hadn’t. He’d been on foot, and most of the way to
Buffy’s, he’d been running.
He arrived just in time to see her
taking off for the cemetery with a purpose. Thinking it better if
he didn’t call out a really temperamental
Slayer’s name, he followed quickly and quietly. Now was not
the time to be knocked on his ass by a very pissed girlfriend.
Although by the end of this night, he
most likely would be.
- 4
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- 6
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Out of My Head