Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

The Butterfly Effect	By : cousinjean Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 27632 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 8
- 9
- 10
The Butterfly Effect

by cousinjean

*

Chapter Nine

***

Buffy wiped the steam from the mirror and stared into it, long and hard. She tried to see through the eyes of her sixteen-year-old self, wondering what the other Buffy would think of her. Probably something like, "What is the deal with those bangs?" to start with. Pushing her damp hair back from her face, she leaned in to take a gander at the hints of lines already forming around her eyes and mouth. She touched a finger to the delicate skin under her eye. "Don't you think you ought to check that baggage?" Teen Buffy would ask next, followed by, "Please tell me they make a cream for that."

Would young Buffy think the older version too thin? Too hard? Too old for her age?

Would she just be glad to know she made it to this age?

Her eyes still stung. The shower had helped, but her nose was still raw and her eyes puffy. Which would lead to the inevitable, "How is it even possible that you were crying like that over Spike?"

"Because he's worth it," answered grown up Buffy. She reached out and touched her reflection. "I wish there was a way to make you see that."

But she wished a lot of things. Mostly that she could save him.

As she'd stood in the shower, watching the crusted blood wash down her legs and swirl around the drain, she had pushed out Willow's voice, the one telling her all the things that could go wrong if she tried to change anything, and instead listened to the one asking, "What if?"

What if she'd been sent here to save him?

What if she did run away with him?

But the Willow voice had an answer for every "what if," and it all led to badness.

Letting out a sigh that seemed to come from her toes, she stepped back and checked her wound. It had already scabbed over on both sides. Still tender, but nothing to write home about in the pain department. She could probably do without a bandage, except that it was gross to look at, and it could start bleeding again if it got scraped. Better cover that puppy.

As she reached for the gauze she noticed her things lying on the counter and picked up the vial of memory potion instead. What did it say about Spike that he didn't swipe it when he had the chance? It was one thing for him to pick saving her over chasing down Mudge for the cross. But to not destroy the one thing that would lock him into the future she'd described?

Of course, it wasn't like he knew about the big, fiery death. She contemplated the vial, wondering if this meant she could trust him enough to tell him about it. He deserved to know the truth. If he was going to go all out helping her to preserve their future, he should know how it would really end.

Shouldn't he?

Buffy shook her head. God, it was so easy to forget who she was dealing with, to mistake him for her Spike. As much as it was her instinct to trust him, she had to remember. It wasn't him. Not entirely. Not yet.

He'd said he loved her-well, he'd implied it, at any rate. But did he love her enough to die for her?

Did this Spike think she was worth it?

And did his leaving the potion alone mean that he thought she was worth the soul? She knew him. Evil or not, she knew him. This Spike considered being saddled with a soul a fate worse than death. If he was willing to face that�

There was the Willow voice again, telling her she couldn't risk it, and how it wouldn't do him any good to know. And that maybe he was so upset he just forgot about the potion before he stormed out. And, hey, wasn't it almost sunrise? Shouldn't he have been back by now? For all you know he's got the cross and is already plotting how to kidnap Angel.

Buffy frowned, willing the voice to shut up, and wondering when exactly her voice of reason had decided to sound like Willow, anyway? She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, then headed out of the bathroom to find a safe hiding place for the potion. But as she passed by the door, she felt a familiar tingle, an outward tug at her core. She froze in place for a moment, staring at the vial, deciding what to do. Then she closed it in her fist and opened the door.

Spike stood with his back to her, leaning against a post and smoking, lost in thought and unaware of her. She poked her head out to make sure nobody was around before stepping outside. He noticed then, glancing back and then doing a double-take. An eyebrow lifted as his gaze roved over her towel. "You look better," he said.

"Thanks." Keeping her hands behind her back, she leaned in the doorway. "Let's have three cheers for slayer healing."

"Hip, hip hurrah." A smirk tugged the corners of his mouth as his eyes found her face. Then he turned back around and raised his cigarette to his lips. "So." He blew out a stream of smoke before looking back at her. "Good news or bad news first?"

"You came back. That's good news."

He whipped around to face her, his coat swirling dramatically around his boots. "Course I came back. Said I would, didn't I?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "You did. So, what's the good?"

"Mudge wants to sell me the cross. 'M supposed to meet him at midnight."

"And the bad?"

"He wants a ridiculous amount of money." He took one more quick drag before dropping the cigarette and crushing it with his boot. Looking down at where it lay, he thrust his hands in his pockets. "I could get the dosh, but not in any way you'd be happy about."

Buffy shrugged. "I still don't see what's wrong with my original plan of beating him until he gives us the cross."

"Not a bleeding thing." As his eyes met hers, he smiled. But then it faded. "Oh, yeh. There's more."

"More bad?"

Spike nodded. "He sold your book to that wizard, whassisname."

Buffy frowned. "Ethan Rayne?"

Spike pointed. "That's the one."

"I don't have a problem with beating up that guy, either."

"Right, then. Good plan." He sighed. "Now we just have to find the wanker."

"Shouldn't be too hard. Ethan's never been a genius at laying low." Her brow furrowed as she thought of something. Folding her arms in front of her, she stepped out onto the walkway and peered down at the stretch of doors. "Come to think of it, the last time he was in town� I mean, the next time, or the time after next, really-"

"I get your meaning, Love."

"He stayed here."

Spike followed her gaze. "Huh. That would sure easy things up." As he turned back he noticed what she held in her hand. "You planning on using that, Pet?"

"What?" She unfolded her arms and looked at the vial. She'd forgotten all about it. "I was just� I was holding it when I felt you out here-"

"'Felt' me?"

"Uh� yeah. Slayer sense?"

He nodded. "Right."

"Well, I mean, I guess it's more like a Spike sense."

His eyebrow arched. "Yeh?"

She smiled. "Yeah. I always know when it's you. I pretty much always have."

He smiled briefly, just a flash of teeth, then tilted his head and looked her over. "Always thought it was just me," he murmured, brushing her damp hair off her shoulder. His hand rested there, just for a moment, before sliding forward. Buffy closed her eyes and savored the sensation of his roughened palm sliding against her. But then he pulled it away, and lightly-God, so lightly she could barely feel it, he traced a finger back and forth along her collarbone.

Shivering, she opened her eyes. He seemed mesmerized, his lips parted and his eyes displaying a drowsy kind of lust as he watched his finger skate across her skin. His tongue curled up to touch his teeth, and the urge to kiss him threatened to overpower her. But she remembered the vial in her hand. She also remembered what happened the last time she kissed him.

"Um." She held up the vial.

His hand fell away and he took a step back. "No," he said, glaring at the potion. "Not yet. You still need me-"

"I do," she reassured him. "I just� I wondered why you left it. I mean, I was a little surprised that�"

"What? That I didn't get rid of it?"

Clutching the vial to her chest, she shrugged lamely.

Spike sniffed and shoved his hand back in his pocket. "Thought about it."

"So, why didn't you?"

He looked confused, and a little hurt by the question. "Thought I made that clear earlier tonight."

Wow, this felt familiar. Buffy thought of all the times he'd tried to reassure her that he truly loved her and would never hurt her. And then he did. But that didn't change the fact that he had really meant it, all those times he'd said it. She believed that. And she had to wonder how much of her refusal to believe him back then had created some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, made his loss of control inevitable. Sometimes, when she allowed herself to think about the badness between them, she wondered if it might have been different if she'd shown some faith in him.

Maybe this was her chance to find out.

She nodded. "You did."

"Yeh, well." He ran a hand through his hair. She pretended not to notice how it shook. "Not saying I like it. Not even sure I understand it. But I'm fallin' for you, Sl- Buffy. I don't want to see you hurt." His head lowered and his eyebrows rose as he looked intently into her eyes. "And I bloody well don't want to be the one doing the hurting."

"I know." She reached out to squeeze his arm. Then, sliding her hand down, she took his hand. Holding it open in hers, she laid the vial in it.

He stared at it for a long moment, then at her, questioning.

"If anything happens to me," she explained. "You know, anything more fatal than getting skewered. You'll know what to do."

"I don't aim to let anything happen to you."

"Neither do I. But just in case."

With a swallow, Spike nodded, and tucked it in his coat.

"So how does it feel to hold your future in your hands?" she asked him.

He moved closer and took her face in both hands. As his thumbs stroked her cheeks, he said, "Feels good."

Buffy smiled. "Good."

He leaned in. Buffy thought he meant to kiss her, but then he sighed and rested his forehead against hers. "One problem, Love." He pulled back a little and looked into her eyes. "It's your future, too."

She stroked the hair over his ear. "I trust you with it.

He seemed to be savoring the taste of that. With a slight smile, he gave a choked little laugh. "Funny. Somebody puts so much faith in you�""It makes you not want to let them down?"

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "Yeh."

"I'm counting on that."

"I won't let you down, Buffy. I swear it."

She nodded. "I'm counting on that, too." She covered one of his hands with hers, then took it and held it in both hands, playing with his fingers as she spoke. "We've got all day before we have to decide what to do about Mudge. If�" She swallowed. "If you want to go check on Drusilla�"

Spike shook his head. "I'm right where I want to be." He did kiss her then, tender and tentative. "Where I belong."

She pulled him closer, mouth open and welcoming. She didn't understand his certainty-how he could fall in love with her so quickly, so completely that it changed his entire self-concept from Vampire Who Kills Slayers to Man Who Loves Buffy. She never understood it. Not before, when suddenly his every deed belied his words and made his true feelings so obvious, regardless of her refusal to see. And not now, when he had so much invested in hating her.

Not when it had taken her so long to figure out how to love him.

Buffy wrapped her arms around him and held on. His movements mimicked hers as he gathered her against him and held her tight, one hand tangling in her hair to cradle the back of her head, the other bunching her towel in a fist at the small of her back. His kiss burned. All of it burned-knowing they would have to leave this behind� that she'd have to leave him behind. But she couldn't think about that now. If she did it would break her.

Easier to lose herself in him. To close her eyes and keep them closed and pretend that this was her Spike and they were home and he was safe and they had plenty of time to figure it all out, to learn how to be a real couple. Because they were so close, they were almost there, and if they'd just had more time�

"Oh, God," she choked against his mouth.

He pulled back and looked at her, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Buffy, what�?"

But all she could do was lay her head on his shoulder and bury her face against his neck. Don't do this, she told herself. Not now.

Spike just held her, stroking her hair and rubbing her back as he swayed with her a little, murmuring soothing sounds in her ear. She rested there, her hand curled up on his chest, trying to carve him into her memory. The smell of his neck, where the scent of hair gel met and mingled with smoky leather and sweat. The soft, sculpted hardness of his chest. The way his arms were so powerful but held her so gently. The tenderness of his hands�

"What's this about, then?" he finally asked, coaxing her to look at him.

She did. And then she saw.

It wasn't the soul she'd searched him for last night in that alley behind the bar. It was a look in his eyes, loving and determined and just a little scared and helpless. A look that said he would move mountains for her, or at least climb them, or blast his way through them if he had to, if only she would let him. And even if she wouldn't. It was the way he was looking at her now.

This was her Spike.

"You're shivering," he said, and she realized that she was. But not because she was cold. "Here, come on."

She let him guide her inside. But once the door closed she rounded on him and shoved him against the wall. He opened his mouth to say something. She promptly filled it with her tongue. Her kiss was fervent, passion-filled, and she used it to communicate all that she was feeling at that moment-hunger, need, joy at having found him again. Grief at having to give him up. And, more than anything else, love.

His only answer was a groan. But his body communicated plenty as she pressed her whole self against him. He tried to wrap her in his arms, but she pushed them away. Her hands glided up his chest and underneath his coat to slide it off him. As it puddled on the floor, he growled deep in his chest, grabbed her around the waist, and spun them both around. Buffy whimpered and clutched her side.

"Oh shit." Spike let go and stood back, his hands hovering near her wound. "Sorry."

She shook her head and reached for him. "Don't be."

But he looked around, unsure of himself as he ran a hand through his hair. "Um. Maybe if we get in bed�"

"Don't," she said, grabbing his hand and getting him to look at her. "You don't have to be gentle with me."

"But what about� I mean, was he� I�"

And she got it. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, Spike-don't worry about it. Don't try to be him. Just be you." She pulled him back to her. "Just be Spike."

But still he held off, afraid to touch her. "I don't want to hurt you, Love."

She stroked his cheek. "You won't." Kissed him again. Ground into him and bit his lip to show she meant business. She felt him harden, and smiled. He tilted his head to look at her in wonder, still not quite sure what to make of her as his tongue snaked out to lick the blood she'd drawn. She unhooked her towel and dropped it on top of his coat. His gaze lowered, the look on his face changing to awe as his eyes drank in her nakedness. She smiled. Nobody made her feel beautiful the way he did. He could make her feel like a goddess with just a look.

Spike moved toward her. Buffy put her hands on his chest to block him. He looked down in confusion until she bunched his tee-shirt up in her hands and slid it upward. His smile made his nose crinkle as he caught the shirt by its collar and yanked it over his head. As it landed on the pile next to her towel, he made another play for her. But she put her hands up again and stepped back.

"You're not naked enough yet," she pouted, glancing down at his jeans.

"I'll get there," he promised. His voice was raw silk soaked in whiskey, and it warmed her from the inside out. He caught her hands in his and brought them to his lips, then held them out of his way as he leaned in. She thought he meant to kiss her again, but he gave her mouth a pass and went straight for her shoulder, sucking at the spot where it joined her neck. His lips and tongue delicately traced the same path along her collarbone that his finger had earlier. He let go of her hands and ran his slowly down her body, calloused thumbs scraping her nipples as his fingers molded themselves to her every curve, mindful of her wounds, finally coming to rest on her hips. She rubbed her hands over the smooth skin of his back, bringing them up to hold the back of his neck as she nuzzled his ear. "I told you not to hold back," she whispered.

He kissed his way up to her ear. "You said to be me," he whispered back. He looked into her eyes for a moment before his mouth reclaimed hers, and she realized that her words earlier had freed him from whatever fa�ade he always felt he had to wear. Abruptly, he broke off the kiss. Then he grasped her hips and turned her around. His lips fluttered against her ear. "Now shut up and let me make love to you."

Buffy smiled at that, even giggled a little, but it turned into a gasp as he brushed her hair out of the way and kissed the top of her spine.

His hands went everywhere first. It was as though he were studying her, committing her body to memory-even though he'd have no memory of this by tomorrow. That broke Buffy's heart even as the thoroughness of his touch filled it. His fingers caressed her shoulders, kneading a gentle massage as his thumbs stroked her shoulder blades. Then his mouth was back on her, kissing a trail down her back. He bent her forward. An arm around her waist kept her steady, but she put her hands on the wall to brace herself. When he licked the small of her back, she arched and shuddered, instinctively pressing backwards against him.

He chuckled. "Like that, Slayer?" She could hear a smile in his voice.

She nodded. "Uh huh."

He stood back up, bringing her with him. "You like what I can do to you." He cupped her breasts and gave them a squeeze.

"Mmmhmm."

"Yeh." He sucked at the tender spot behind her ear as one of his hands roamed lower, acquainting itself with her belly, and still lower, reaching down to rub her thigh.

She gripped his forearms and felt them flex as his hands did their magic, marveling at the strength there. "Spike," she moaned softly, squeezing his arms.

He smiled against her neck. "Like it when you say my name like that. Like a lover." He squeezed her nipple as his other hand moved between her thighs. With a sigh, she let her head fall back against his shoulder. He kissed her exposed throat, then kept an eye on her face. "Say it again."

She turned her head to look up at him and raised a hand to his cheek. As she started to comply, he thrust a finger inside her, making it come out as "Sp-ah-i-hiiike!"

He grinned, all cocky, his tongue poking through his teeth. "Yeh. Like that." Buffy couldn't help but return his grin as he brought his free hand to her face; then he kissed her, long and deep, his tongue keeping pace with the finger moving inside her. "You're all hot for me," he murmured against her lips. "Hot and wet and ready. All for me."

"All for you," she sighed.

"You know what you do to me, Love?"

The denim of his jeans scraped against her ass as his erection bumped her. She pressed back against it. "I have an idea."

"No," he said. "You have no idea. But, yeh. Here." His finger never stopped as his other hand left her body. She heard the clinking sound of his belt buckle, then after a moment he took her hand and guided it to his cock. "Feel that? Feel how hard I am for you?"

He sucked air in through his teeth as she gripped the shaft. She pumped it a few times, matching the rhythm of his hand between her legs, then she slid her hand down to squeeze his balls. Spike groaned, resting his head against her shoulder.

"Fuck, Buffy!"

"Uh-huh, that's the idea."

She pushed his hand away and turned to face him. Ready for him had been an understatement. She needed him inside her, and she could tell from the look on his face that he needed to be there just as badly. Wrapping her hands around the back of his head, she pulled him to her and ravaged his mouth. His hands cupped her ass to lift her up so she could lock her legs around his waist. She pulled her face back to watch his as she slid onto him. He wore the same look of amazement and gratitude that had been there the first time, in that old house. But the disbelief was gone, replaced by a certainty that she'd never seen there before. When he was all the way in, she grasped his face in both hands and looked intently into his eyes.

"I love you," she said, willing him to believe it.

He smiled a little, laying a hand atop one of hers, and nodded. "I love you, too, Buffy." After everything, he still sounded a little surprised at himself as he said it. Then he touched her face and kissed her. He leaned her back against the wall and began to rock inside her. Playtime was clearly over. This was serious love-making, now. His thrusts grew faster, harder, and she gripped his shoulders for purchase and met him in the middle. She'd never been with him like this before-really with him, connecting on every level. Not except for that last night in the basement. She'd been amazed then, and a little afraid, of how good it could be between them. Not just the sex, but all of it. But then she had thought she would have time to get used to it, to build slowly. Now she knew that this was it. She would never have this again.

It didn't take long-she was already so close when they started. But as the orgasm took her, she couldn't look him in the eye. She looked up at the dingy ceiling instead, and wondered how she could feel so complete and so empty all at once.

She was crying. He seemed to realize it the same time she did, and stopped. "Pet?"

"Don't stop," she said, batting away her tears. He looked unsure. "Please, Spike." She kissed him. "Don't ever stop."

He nodded and resumed, keeping his eyes on her and reaching up to wipe her tears. Then he was there-she could see it in the flutter of his eyelids, the o of his mouth. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, and rested his face against her neck as he shuddered inside her. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair as he came. "I love you, Spike," she whispered into his hair. "Oh, God, I love you so much."

All of the tiny fissures that had formed in her dam since she'd first run into him joined together and burst, and she couldn't hold it back any longer. A sob tore through her and she went limp against him.

"Shh, baby," he said, wrapping his arms around her. Any confusion he might have felt was hidden by his determination to comfort her. "I'm here. I've got you." He backed up to the bed, and somehow managed to lay them both down without pulling out of her. "I'm here," he kept reassuring her, but that only made it worse, because they both knew he wouldn't be for long. So finally he gave up, and just held her as she clung fiercely to him and cried herself out.

*

Continue to Chapter Ten
Return to Extra menu

Home

var site="sm5redemptionista"
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Butterfly Effect

The Butterfly Effect