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beneath you	By : agalaxyinblueeyes Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 1505 -:- 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-beneath you
- 2-One
- 3-Two
- 4-Three
- 5-Four
- 6-Five
- 7-Six
- 8-Seven
- 9-Eight
- 10-Nine
- 11-Ten
- 12-Eleven
- 13-Twelve
- 7
- 8
- 9
beneath you

part seven

Time was threatening to freeze.
The clich� was a bit annoying to her, but it definitely seemed
to fit now. Memories began slamming into her left and right,
starting nearly two seconds before she even laid eyes on him.
Images of soft, smooth, hard ivory muscles, skating over her.
Strong but gentle hands caressing every curve and line of her
body. Soft, full lips and an icy tongue making love to her own,
before descending and marking every inch of her body as his own,
laving her skin with a century plus worth of knowledge and
experience. Cold, dead (yet still very much alive) azure eyes,
flecked with gray and silver, all knowing, penetrating, pleading,
commanding; hunger, respect, lust, concern and love could all be
conveyed in just a single glance.
Her heart convulsed and her tiny
hand, clutching the ladder rung above her, splintered the wood.
Spike, for his part, did not
flinch at the disbelief and anger fighting for dominance on her
lovely face, but he averted his own gaze all the same. His eyes
were half-closed, and he seemed to be steeling himself for a
warrior's cry, an attack, a stab, before death -- at the very
least.
Buffy drew a deep breath, then
looked down at the broken piece of wood in her hand.
Unconsciously, she lowered herself to the ground, then took
several tentative steps forward.
Was this really happening to
her? She was nervous in front of Spike? Since when
had she ever been nervous in front of Spike? She
usually plowed through him, blustering on and on about something
that was wrong with her life before she resumed the throne of
Denial and blamed everything on him, even when he hadn't even
done anything.
Well, shit; she'd inadvertently
thrust herself into a guilt-fest. Hmph. At least she was learning
to feel bad about the crap-lot she'd given him over the last five
years.
Hmm. She was forgetting
something as her brain began to simultaneously brood and bitch at
her. It was something important, and it was right on the tip of
her tongue... and if she hadn't been sleeping during Professor
Walsh's class half the time in college, she could probably
remember what that phenomena had been called, and
she'd be slightly happier. A little brain-fried, and no where
near Sigmund Freud, but happy.
Speaking of, Freud's 16-year-old
reincarnation was trying to edge her way around Spike's old
dresser without attracting the Slayer's attention. Buffy cleared
her throat loudly, then pointed to a lone chair in the corner of
the room. Dawn stood up straight, armed but not particularly
dangerous with Sullen Teenage Glare #503, and shuffled to the
chair, her head down. Buffy's gaze cooled slightly. If the brat
thought she was gonna get away with not even letting Buffy know
that Spike was back...
Oh! That was what she was
forgetting!
She looked cautiously back at
the bleach-haired vampire, and drew another deep breath. Holy
shit. Spike was back.
"When?" she asked, her
voice soft. She saw his eyes flicker towards her before darting
back to the floor.
"Two... three weeks. Not
much more'n that."
A beat.
"I see."
She was piecing things together,
or rather, the Automatic Buffy Guilt Trigger in the back of her
mind was. Three weeks... that meant that she had
seen him outside her window during that rainstorm. It also meant
that he'd been hiding in the bushes that other time, and she had
possibly been following him at the store last night. When Dawn
had said that she'd thought she'd seen him as well. Which
meant...
"Dawn. I'm grounding you
for two weeks. No arguments. You've been lying to me about where
you've been going at day and night; about why you were coming
here of all places. You're to do as you're told. No TV, but you
can have your radio and CDs. Fair, or no?"
Dawn bit her lower lip and
nodded slowly. No TV sucked -- she'd gotten sort of sucked into
it over the summer -- but at least she still had other
entertainment.
"I don't want you coming
here by yourself anymore," Buffy continued. She was doing a real
good job of avoiding dangerous/beautiful Spike Eyes. "If you
want to visit, tell me, I'll walk you, until you prove yourself
trustworthy again. Or your two weeks are up, whatever comes
first."
Dawn nodded again. Buffy looked
down. Avoid Spike eyes, avoid Spike eyes!
"Go upstairs, Dawn.
We," she indicated herself and Spike, who gulped, "Need
to have a private talk."
Spike's eyes widened and, truth
be told, he looked positively terrified, shaking his head
pleadingly at Dawn. Dawn gave him a helpless glance, then mouthed
'I'm sorry' as she left the lower level.
Dawn closed her eyes and crossed her fingers. She
had gotten off extremely lucky. But Spike had been gone for four
months, having left after the worst possible thing that had ever
happened in their solemn little group. And returning with a soul.
A soul he'd gotten for Buffy. Who didn't know about said soul.
She bit her lip. Dawn didn't know her sister's exact stand on
the Spike issue, but she prayed that Violent!Repressive!Buffy
wouldn't make an appearance, and, for once, would hear Spike out.
Yeah. She thought it was wishful thinking, too.

He was nervous. Buffy was pacing, and Buffy only
paced when she was extremely close to biting off a head. Not to
mention the fact that her eyes would flicker up and glance in his
direction every few seconds before she went right back to the
pacing. And silence. Silence was a big Thing with her right now.

Had he said he was nervous? Nervous didn't even
begin to cover how he felt right now.

Spike watched her cautiously, although his head
was lowered. Honestly, he welcomed whatever punishment Buffy had
in store for him. He had, after all, tried to rape her, and even
worse, he'd left town. (In the Buffy Book of Logic,
Spike had discovered that leaving town was at the top of the
No-No List -- worse than rape) Whatever it was that she was
trying to make her mind up to doing, hell, he deserved it.

But just because he felt like an awful, dirty,
bottom-sucking bastard that deserved to
die... didn't mean he wanted to. He
kept his eyes on Buffy in case of an ambush.

After a while (and a longer bit of pacing, in
which Buffy had nearly worn a trough through the dirt floor of
the crypt), the Slayer stopped, turned to Spike, and opened her
mouth for an exact count of five seconds before snapping it shut
again. Apparently not trusting the anxious words that had
attempted to bounce past her lips. She shook her head, sighed and
then, to Spike's utmost annoyance, began pacing again.

He watched her with a scrupulous expression on
his face until Buffy stopped -- finally. Taking a deep breath,
she stalked toward him boldly. Spike flinched (which caused Buffy
to wince at her seemingly violent approach, though Spike didn't
see her do so) and he sank down onto his charred bed. This was
it. She was finally gonna do her duty and put an end to his
miserable existence, like she should have done the night he'd --

"Where were you?"

Spike's head shot up, dark eyebrows knit together
in confusion. Why wasn't she killing him? She shouldn't be
wasting time asking him stupid questions, like where he'd been on
his ruddy summer vacation. But the look in her eyes bore no
contest, so instead of asking his
stupid question (in his opinion, the one that would make her kill
him faster), he swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip.
"Africa," he murmured.

He'd let out a startled, injured-puppy-like yelp
and had his hands to his nose before he'd even realized what had
happened. Then the searing pain began to spread, and he looked up
at the Slayer, who's eyes were wide and horrified and profusely
apologetic.

"Ohmigod, I'm sorry! I am so, SO sorry,
Spike, I totally didn't mean to do that, it was reflex!" she
gasped, grasping at the repentant straws. She reached up and
gingerly attempted to pull his hand away from his nose, flinching
when she saw the bright, red rawness glaring back at her.
"Ohhhhh, bad..." she whimpered. "I am SO
sorry..."

Spike whined a little bit, touching the tip of
his nose tentatively, before trying to scrub off the blood he now
felt pouring from his nostrils. Buffy had always gone for the
nose. Good to see that that hadn't
changed much. He shot her a little glare before licking off the
blood that had dribbled onto his palm.

Buffy bit her lower lip, frowning slightly at the
less-than-pleasant 'welcome-back' she'd just given him. Damn. Old
Slayer habits really did die hard. God, what the hell was wrong
with her? She was going to have to learn to control that damn
temper of hers. After a bit of silence between them, she smiled
weakly and said, "So... Africa, huh?"

He gave a soft grunt and a nod as an answer.
Refused to look at her.

"That's where Dawn got her necklace, then?
From you?"

Another nod.

Buffy chuckled a little, hoping to entice the
same gentle rumble she'd always enjoyed hearing from him.
"Good. For a second I thought she'd gone Teen Klepto
again."

She waited for a response.

And abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Not even a
fucking eyeblink.

"Spike?"

His body shifted and a slight tilt of his head in
her direction as acknowledgment.

"Talk? Please?"

Hesitant head shake. Ooh! That had been an Almost
Nod. She was wearing him down.

She got to her knees in front of him, tentatively
placing her tiny hands over his large ones, not caring in the
slightest that they were covered with his blood. Peering up into
his emotionally stoic face (and it was so difficult saying Spike
was stoic when he had been anything but in the past), she gave
the hands a gentle, soothing squeeze. "Spike? For me?
Please? I need to know what happened to you."

Another hesitant head shake.

She continued. "And if not for me... then
for Dawn? She loves you... I think she has a right to know
everything that happened."

One hand left his and reached up to cup his chin,
lifting his head until his beautiful cerulean eyes were level
with hers. "Don't you?" she whispered.

Nothing. Then...

Slowly... Ever so slowly... He nodded.

Buffy smiled.

To say that Dawn was freaking out was a severe
understatement.

She sat fidgeting on the stone sarcophagus,
having yet to spot hide and hair from either Buffy or Spike.
Preferably from both of them. Buffy had kicked her out of the
lower level over an hour ago, and Dawn hadn't heard a single
thing since that yelp that had more than likely come from Spike.
He was the only vampire she knew that could reach that decibel of
Shocked Puppy-ness.
What if they weren't even talking down there? What if Buffy had
heard Spike out, and now they were having quiet Snuggle Time
without the teenager interrupting them? (Dawn knew for certain
that they couldn't be having sex -- she had the feeling that she
would've been scared out of the crypt by the sounds if they
were). As helpful as it was to believe that they had made up,
Dawn had to face Reality.
Stupid, evil, damning Reality.
Reality forced her thoughts to turn to dark and foreboding.
What if Buffy had only told Dawn to go upstairs in order to keep
her from seeing the sinister beating that Spike was receiving?
Worser still, what if Buffy had foregone the beating and had just
killed Spike? What if she was just
sitting down there, trying to make Dawn think
they were talking, and when Buffy came back upstairs, she'd say
that Spike had decided it was "best to leave" so as to
throw Dawn off of what had really happened?!
Oh, god, upgrade freaking out to severely horrified.
She was just starting to stand up in an attempt to head over
to the hole in the ground in a frantic desperation to see if
Spike was alright, when she heard both their voices at the bottom
of the ladder and stopped.
"It's... hard. I... I can barely sleep without one of a
million of them coming to haunt me." A soft sigh. "I
mean... serves me right. But still... I-It's hard."
"I know. But I think that by telling me, you've lifted a
lot of weight off your shoulders. And it'll get easier."
Long pause. "It has to."
A long silence punctuated by a loud sigh. "I hope
so."
Dawn shifted. These silences were starting to get annoying.
She heard one of them turn, and decided it had to be Buffy. She
may have been the Slayer, but Buffy had the grace of a mountain
goat.
Sure enough. "I'd better get going. Dawn's been up there
for a long time now... knowing her, she's having conniption fits
or thinks we've fallen into a bottomless pit."
Really weak attempt at a laugh on both parts, before an
abrupt, nerve-grating awkward Silence.
"Right," Dawn (inwardly getting increasingly annoyed
at how well Buffy and Spike knew her) heard Spike say, his voice
tight as if he were trying to hold off tears. "Up you go,
then. Bit'll be frantic. Can't have that, can we?"
"No... no, definitely not."
A lengthy pause -- worse than the Silence, since the Pauses
meant that there were things they really wanted to say to each
other -- and Buffy turned to start up the ladder.
She was halfway up when Spike cleared his throat, thereby
breaking the Pause. "Buffy?" he asked softly,
tentatively.
"Yes, Spike?" No irritation in the tone; gentle
concern and curiosity laced it instead.
Slight hesitation. Then, embarrassed, shyly, hopefully, he
muttered, "I, uh... missed you."
The response was almost instantaneous. Dawn heard Buffy's
sharp, relieved inhalation of air, and a sharp crack
as Buffy's hand busted another ladder rung. When she spoke, Dawn
could hear the smile in her voice: "I missed you, too,
Spike."
Dawn's cheeks nearly cracked; her smile had nearly taken over
her whole face. She was nothing but a Dawn-Smile. The single
disbelieving, but increasingly happy voice inside of her was
squealing over and over again, Buffy forgave
Spike! with a miniature jig in accompaniment.
They both moved up the stairs, Spike at a respectful distance
from her, and he stood with his head down as Buffy gathered
anything she might have brought with her. Dawn folded her arms
and glared at them. "Well? What in the hell took so
long?"
Simultaneously, both looked up at her and said, in unison,
"Dawn, watch your mouth."
Dawn blinked. "Whoa. That was creepy."
The side of Spike's lips curved into a half-smile, and he
moved toward her. "I meant it, Bit. You're sixteen. Don't
need to start swearing now."
Dawn grinned at him hopefully. "But if some big Evil is
coming after me and I have to fight it?"
Buffy stared at her, eyebrow raised. "We'll see."
Dawn's arms folded, and Sullen Teenage Glare was back, this
time in the form of #100 (You Never Let Me Do
Anything Fun!). Buffy rolled her eyes and pointed
at her. "Don't you give me that look, Dawn. I invented
that Look. Wipe it off your face."
Dawn straightened and gave Buffy a sheepish smile.
"Sorry. Forgot."
Buffy laughed and wrapped her arm around her sister's
shoulders. "Come on. Giles is probably wide awake and
spazzing. I told him I'd be right back, and that was an hour
ago."
Spike followed slowly as Dawn and Buffy made their way to the
door. "Got your gifts?" Spike asked softly, cocking his
head at Dawn. The teenager nodded, tapping the pocket of her
jacket. Spike smiled and reached out to gently tug on a strand of
her hair. "Good girl. Have a good night then. Listen to
Buffy. Get to school on time. All that other prancy, poofy
stuff."
Dawn moved toward him, wrapping her arms tightly about his
waist. "I will. And if it's all right with Buffy, will you
come visit us sometime? Please?"
Spike peered over Dawn's head at her sister, who had suddenly
decided that the floor was looking rather lovely in its cigarette
dusti-ness. He sighed inwardly. "We'll see, luv." He
placed a kiss on her forehead, gave her another gentle squeeze,
then patted her back. "Off you go."
Dawn smiled and waved at him. "G'night, Spike. Love
you," she called.
Spike watched with a gentle smile as they walked away. It
widened just a fraction of an inch when he saw Buffy turn
slightly and peer back at him, before spinning back around and
heading after Dawn. "Love you, too, Bit," he murmured,
his hand clutching the wall next to his door. "Love you
both."
He shut the door.

Buffy made the worst attempt in humanity to
conceal a yawn. Unfortunately for her, Giles didn't get the hint.
In fact, Giles didn't even notice. Giles was swimming in his own
little Giles-World at the moment, completely lost in thought.

And pacing. Did she mention the pacing? It's
Giles, new from Mattel! Comes with five different functions:
worrying, nose-rubbing, pacing, lecturing and thinking, all sure
to bore the pants off of you! See package for details.

He was starting to make her dizzy. And she was
really starting to hate herself for not waiting to mention Spike
to Giles the next morning, after she'd gotten some well-deserved
shut-eye (after all the emotional crap she'd been through
tonight). To Giles, rest, sleep,
and dead-on-your-feet tired did not
seem to be understandable concepts. At least they didn't when
formerly-evil-but-turning-good-guy-without-a-soul ex-boyfriends
came back to town sans pain-chip and with their original soul
fully intact and acquired willingly in tow.
Truly, Spike was a first in Vampire history, and Giles wasn't
about to waste any time delving into research.
"He went after his soul willingly? Knowing what it would
do to him, knowing what he would be in store for when he received
it? And he still accepted it
back?"
Buffy yawned again. Giles had asked this question about five
times, all in the same, disbelieving tone. "Well, he didn't
exactly flat out ask for it. He wanted the chip out. But I think,
deep down inside, he wanted the soul, otherwise the Wish-Giver
guy wouldn't have given it to him. He said that he asked him to,
quote unquote, 'make him what he was, so he could...'" She
trailed off slightly, then looked down at her feet and finished.
"So he could give me what I deserved."
Giles' eyebrows creased together. "And the demon returned
him his soul... Most interesting."
Buffy yawned for the third time. "Real interesting. Can I
go to sleep now? Please?"
Her former Watcher looked at her, startled. "What? Oh,
yes. Of course, dear. Go get some rest."
Buffy smiled drowsily. "Thanks, Giles.
G'night."
"Goodnight, Buffy."
As soon as she was upstairs, alone in her mother's old room,
as soon as she reached her bed, Buffy sank down heavily and
buried her face in her hands.
A soul. He'd gotten his soul back for her. In spite of all
she'd done to him, in spite of how she'd treated him, in spite of
everything she'd ever said to him, he'd gone to get his soul back
for her. And at a terrible price. He'd nearly been destroyed by
the tasks he'd been required to pass.
And still. He'd done it all for her. To feel like he was
worthy of her.
Any other woman on earth would have seen his devotion before
he'd even stepped a foot past the city lines. It had taken Buffy
four months without him, cold hard Reality, and a couple of
verbal punches to the face to realize that she even missed him.
Four months to realize that she loved him.
As Angelus, Angel never would have gone to get his soul back
of his own free will. Angelus thrived on the miserable lives he
could induce without a conscience following him around, wracking
him with guilt every step of the way. And Spike had loved her
enough without his soul to seek it out for her anyway. Because he
thought it was what she deserved.
Well she didn't. She didn't deserve a damn thing from him.
After everything she'd done to him, she didn't deserve him. She,
the Slayer, the icon for all things good, and pure, and right,
was worse than a soulless vampire. A soulless vampire that had
felt love, pain, guilt, remorse, though by standards, he
shouldn't have.
Spike had always been the exception. And as the exception,
Spike was better than her. And being better than her, he
shouldn't even desire her. He should hate her for everything
she'd said and done.
And he didn't. In fact, by the doe eyes he'd kept giving her
this evening, it was all too clear that he was still as taken and
infatuated with her as he ever was. Well, only more so now.
When in the hell was she going to learn to listen to her gut
instincts, instead of listening to everyone else? Listening to
everyone else had ruined her, and had forced her to destroy any
semblance of a normal relationship she could have had with Spike,
simply because he didn't fit the normal standards that her
friends held. And she had been so scared to take him in, and
accept him, and show everyone that yes, she was with the vampire
of her own free will, the vampire that had changed himself in
spite of what everyone else had done to discourage him, because
they loved each other, and because she trusted him. She'd
rejected him, simply because she was scared of their disapproval.
Their disapproval.
Giles, her father figure: in his youth, he'd conjured up the
dark spirit Eyghon, immersed himself in Black Magick, and had
virtually been Spike's counterpart. When she'd turned 18, he had
betrayed her trust and had left her without her strength to do
battle with an insane vampire during her Cruciamentum. And he'd
had the gall to chastise her for betraying him
when she'd hid Angel after his return from Hell.
Xander, her big brother figure: he'd tried to fuck her under
the influence of that Hyena spirit during her first year in
Sunnydale. He had conjured a spell that had made all the women in
Sunnydale desperate for him, which caused them to be deadly if
rejected. And just last year, he'd conjured up that singing
demon, Sweet. Buffy would have danced to her death had it not
been for Spike.
And Willow. Oh, god, Willow. She had been so innocent when she
had been thrust into the Slayer's world. And her magick lessons
had just been a past time, something that she'd been eager to
study, as a tribute after Jenny Calendar's death. And that had
seemed innocent until she'd immersed herself into the Black Arts;
thrown herself in so deep that she'd literally depended on magick
to help her through everyday life. And when it had gotten so bad,
and her emotions had run rampant, she'd nearly become the Uber
Evil; she'd killed a man, attempted to kill her friends, and had
tried to destroy the world.
Somehow, Buffy didn't think that any of them had the right to
disapprove of her choices anymore. She'd sacrificed enough of her
life for the Greater Good and this stupid Calling. They could sit
and spin if they wigged at the idea of her with Spike.
Er... not that she was going to be with him anytime in the
immediate future or anything. Yeah.
But still... he had tried so hard to be good, to be good for her,
and she had turned him down at every possible cross, tried to
discourage him in every possible way. Really, it was no wonder
that he'd finally had enough. If it had been anyone else, they'd
be sitting in a mental hospital, and Buffy would be visiting them
on weekends.
She groaned softly, feeling tears begin to trickle down her
cheeks, which was just irritating as hell -- since when had she
become so damn moody? She wasn't even like this when she had PMS!
-- and she impatiently wiped her hands over her face. Seeing
Spike again, when she thought she'd lost him forever, should not
merit an all-night sobbing session.
Well, maybe it did; if you weren't the Slayer, anyway.
Still, it wasn't like he's just come back from the dead (er,
the permanent kind). She'd known he was alive and out there
somewhere... wanting nothing to do with her...
Oh, fantastic... she was throwing herself a pity-party now.
Maybe she should just go to sleep and forget all the incredibly
mind-boggling events from tonight, and the even more
mind-boggling things Spike had told her about during his Quest
for a Soul. It was just too much for her poor mind to process.
Anyway, that was why Giles was here.
Also, the grossest image of Spike being attacked by
flesh-eating scarabs kept popping into her mind. That warranted
an exceptionally big 'eugh,' and nightmares for a week.
Gotta admit, though,
she
thought, yawning as she stretched out on the bed, rolling onto
her back. 'm definitely proud of him... god, the
things he does for me...
She settled comfortably against her pillow and closed her
eyes.

And that had officially
been the world record for shortest nap taken by a 21-year-old
Slayer that had to juggle Mom-and-Save-The-World duties.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that she was
so ecstatic to have him back (you know; besides the part where
she was in love with him), she would've killed him.

"Spike, it's --" she looked at her
alarm clock, and groaned -- "3:15 in the morning. I have a
job I have to be ready for in four more hours." Buffy sat up
and glared at him. "What the hell do you want?"

He smiled apologetically and rocked back on his
heels a little, from his perch outside the window. "Sorry.
Can I, uh... come in?"

Buffy yawned, rubbing her eyes. "Your
invitation was never revoked, " she told him sleepily.
"You have a free reign."

She tried hard to feel like she hadn't swallowed
the sun when she saw his awed, delighted face.

"Well, uh... I have the feeling you might
kill me more violently if I ask questions, so 'm just gonna come
in," he said sheepishly, climbing through the window. Buffy
raised her eyebrows and sat up a little more.

"Damn straight," she grumbled. Spike
merely grinned, plopping onto her bedside table. Buffy shook her
head. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Ta. Slightly aware of it."

Buffy groaned as she stretched, then sighed.
"Yeah, anyway. What's up?"

Spike chewed on his lower lip quietly, fiddling
with the end of his shirt, before answering her. "It's
just... you seemed a little too calm tonight... after all I told
you. Just... wanted to know if you were all right. You know. From
one, er... friend... to another."

She pretended not to notice the half-annoyed,
half-depressed Look that crossed his face at those words. Buffy
took a deep breath. "Well... you have to admit. What
happened to you kind of... blew me away, ya know? It's kind of...
difficult knowledge to swallow whole. So... I think it's fair for
me to be a little shocked. Right?"

Spike nodded, a little eagerly. "Oh, sure,
yeah, I mean... I knew that. 'S just... Well, maybe I was more
off my nut than I thought, but... you looked like you were going
ta cry. Was I?" He looked at her, penetrating blue eyes
quickly working their magick. "Imagining things, I
mean?"

Buffy drew her legs to her chest, looking up at
him. She hesitated a moment, then shook her head. "No... you
weren't. I... I was... I did cry."
She threw him a weak grin. "I've just been Emotion Girl all
over the place lately, huh?"

Spike smiled back gently, reaching out
tentatively to touch her cheek. "It does you good. You look
healthier... relaxed... happier an' the like." He looked
down. "Not like when you were with me."

Buffy's heart dropped into her stomach at the
despondent look on his face. Before she could answer, he looked
up again and said, "I dunno if I have the right to ask or
not, but... Why?" At Buffy's questioning look, he
elaborated. "Why me? I mean... y-you knew I loved you. You
knew... how I felt when I saw you back. You knew that I'd do
anything for you, and that, if I could have, I'd've killed ta
keep you happy. So... why d'you do it? Use me?" He looked
down again. "I just... I wanted to know. 'S all."

Buffy closed her eyes and reached up to clasp the
hand that remained on her cheek. "Spike... I am so sorry. I
just... I was beyond messed up. And... I thought I'd done
something terrible to be brought back here, to this... Hell. I
felt like... someone wanted me to suffer. To stay hate-filled and
angry, and that just goes to show how screwed up I was, because
no matter how you felt about me, I still took out all my hatred
and anger on you." Her other hand moved to touch his cheek,
caressing it gently up and down. "I'm just so, so sorry,
Spike. You didn't deserve that. Any of it. Not a single thing
that I did, or a single word I said." She snorted
mirthlessly. "I'm just the shining example of all that's
right in the world, huh? I treated the guy that loved me like a
piece of trash, like I had the fucking right to do it." She
shook her head and clasped her hands in her lap. "God, I
need help."

His soft, cool lips were on hers, leaving the
gentle whisper of a kiss against her mouth before she'd even
realized he'd moved. "I could," he whispered when he
pulled back.

Buffy felt a delicious shiver run down her spine
before she raised her eyes to his. "Could what?" she
asked softly.

Spike's hand raised and ran down her arm.
"Help you." His lips parted and traced the pulsepoint
on her neck, springing a chilling, titillating sensation
throughout her body. "That guy you treated like trash... he
came back... he still loves you, now more than ever... he's most
definitely a changed man. And he'd like to show you how changed
he is."

Buffy sighed, raising her arms and wrapping them
around his body, tilting her head up accordingly when his lips
came back to hers. "But... what about the soul?" she
whispered. "Won't it..."

Spike pulled back, resting his forehead against
hers and staring her dead in the eyes. "Luv, the soul is
more than permanent. If, however, you feel the need to test it
out..." Taking one of her hands, he moved it down to the hem
of his shirt, sliding it below the material. Instincts took over,
and Buffy's other hand joined the first, pushing the T-shirt up
and over Spike's head. It took less than a second for her to
become reacquainted with the delicious firmness of his muscles,
and the sharp, lean build of his body -- though, truth be told,
she had never really forgotten because his body haunted her
memories anyway.

His lips came down on hers once again, and in the
barest blink of an eye, he had managed to divest her of her
pajamas. Pausing for a moment, he studied the top and bottoms,
then smiled at the design. "I like the blue monkeys,"
he murmured, pressing his mouth to the swell of her breast.

Buffy blushed. "Dawn bought them for me. I
don't know what she was thinking, since
she is a -- ah... ohhh, god..."
Her eyes fell closed and her head lolled back on the pillow. His
lips nipped and sucked every inch of her breast, teasing her
nipple relentlessly. Buffy whimpered softly, reaching up and
tugging gently on his hair. "No foreplay," she
whispered. "I've missed you so much, Spike... I need you,
all of you. Now."

Apparently, that had been just what Spike had
wanted to hear. In under a second, he's had his jeans undone and
pulled down his legs, and her panties had been whipped off and
thrown across the room. "You've got me, Buffy."

Her head thrown back, her muscles spasming
against his massive intrusion, she gave a choked sigh, holding
him close to her. Never once did it cross her mind that it was
the middle of the night, that Giles was probably still awake
downstairs, that her sister and Willow were sound asleep in the
other rooms... All that mattered was the beautiful man, above
her, inside her, surrounding her. All that mattered was that he
was back, and she was where she belonged again.

As gently as possible, he began to rock, taking
care to kiss every surface inch of her body that wasn't covered
by the rest of him as his hips pistoned into her depths. This had
been in his future from the moment he'd met her, from the second
he'd laid his eyes on her beautiful body. Being together was the
natural conclusion of their relationship.

Slowly, he rocked faster. Below him, the Slayer's
voice came out in soft, breathless gasps, kittenish mewls of
pleasure, needy moans of desperation. She had never sounded more
lovely to him. He acquiesced when her small hand grasped the back
of his head, drawing his face down to hers. "Spike,"
she whispered as their lips met. Tongue clashed with tongue,
dueling, carressing, mating. It was no wonder that they'd spent
the better part of the last five years annoying the hell out of
each other. Their passion had spurred them on.

Now if only they'd caught on to it sooner. If
only Buffy hadn't been so adamant in what everyone else had told
her.

Closer; she was almost there. During their few
months together, Spike had discovered the very touches that would
propel her further into a climax, and he'd used them to his full
advantage. Now, it seemed, he barely had to touch her and she was
at the precipice.

Harder. Sweat poured down her skin, coating both
their bodies. The bed was moving audibly now, the headboard just
barely thumping against the wall. Thank God Buffy's room wasn't
right next to Dawn's anymore. Because that would just... suck.

Faster. She was about to fall, and her hands,
moving restlessly around Spike's body, grabbed a good handful of
his supremely nice ass, pushing him farther into her. Spike
grunted, pushing harder, ignoring the sounds the headboard was
making, concentrating solely on making this woman explode with
pleasure. "God, Buffy," he murmured, lips exploring her
neck, "I love you so much."

She convulsed. Her body tightened, and her
muscles clenched around him. She renewed her desperate hold on
him, her legs wrapping around his waist and hooking at the small
of his back. Her back arched and her hips thrust forward,
frantically attempting to suck him into her, to lodge him inside
her and ensure that he would never leave again. Her nails dug
into his skin, ripping, tearing the magnificent expanse of
alabastor, and she gave a garbled cry as her insides began to
melt.

Spike growled at the feeling of the warmth
flowing around him, then gasped in surprise when Buffy's hands
grasped his head, lowering his face to her neck. He trembled at
the unmistakable invitation before shifting into game face and...

Buffy shot up, gasping, eyes wide and head thrown
back as her legs tremored in the final shock of her orgasm. She
moaned softly and fell back again, her eyes blinking blearily at
the ceiling above her as her thoughts raced to the ruined -- She
looked down at herself.

Pajamas. Ruined pajamas. She was wearing them.
Why was she still wearing them? And where the hell was -- Oh. Oh
no. That wasn't fair. That was NOT even right! Oh, god, this isn't happening! she mentally
groaned.

She looked down at herself again.
PJ's officially ruined for the night. Mother fucking hell.
Scowling, she stripped off her clothes, then violently threw
them into the laundry basket before grabbing a pair of boxers and
a long red T-shirt. Getting back into the bed, she folded her
arms crossly over her chest and scowled. "I am never going
back to sleep again," she muttered.
She was asleep the second her head hit the pillow.

Outside, Spike gazed up at the window of Buffy's
bedroom, slightly slack-jawed. She'd been dreaming about him. And
not just any regular dream. She'd been dreaming about shagging
him into the ground. Even if she hadn't been voicing herself,
Spike would have been able to smell her arousal, and God knew
that the beast below his belt would have let him know all too
gladly.

But that didn't deter from the main fact.

Buffy was dreaming about him. Buffy still wanted
him. In every possible way.

A slow smile curled his lips and he pushed off
from the tree, digging into his jeans and pulling out a cigarette
and his beloved Zippo. Lighting up, he glanced up at the window
again, ears perked to hear her soft snores. Then, turning to
leave, his hand curved down to adjust himself; a cocky grin,
reminiscent of his old self Pre-Soul, stretched across his face.

Well. He was set for the rest of the night.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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