Chapter 40
Buffy awoke slowly, someone’s lips on her neck causing her to shiver. Spike…Mmmmm… her groggy mind registered. Wrapping her arms around him, she arched her neck ever so slightly, giving him further access.
He shifted slightly so that he was lying between her legs and Buffy was still half asleep and too lost in the sensation of feeling him stoking the fire in her so perfectly, that she gave herself over to it.
“Mmm…Spike,” she murmured and sought his lips with hers.
He devoured her mouth with his, and she felt as though he was going to swallow her whole. His erection pressed against her center as he kissed her, and another shiver ran through her.
“Spike.” Breaking the kiss, she gasped for air and opened her eyes to find him staring at her with such intensity, she felt even more breathless – not to mention speechless.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered and slid his hands under her thighs to get her to comply.
“Spike–” she started to protest.
“Sshh…” he whispered, smothering her in a kiss. His hands pushed her shirt up, exposing her breasts to his heated gaze. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “My angel…”
Bending his head, he suckled at one nipple and flicked his thumb across the other. “My girl tastes so good…”
I’m not ready for this, she thought frantically. He feels so good, but I’m not ready for this. Why is he doing this? He knows I’m not ready.With that thought in mind, Buffy pushed at him forcefully.
“Stop,” she ordered loudly and pushed and pushed until he was off her. Scrambling off the bed and standing a good distance away, she stared down at him. “What are you doing?”
“You liked it,” he told her, running a hand through his hair. “You liked how I made you feel. You weren’t complaining.”
“You didn’t give me the chance! I was barely awake. Spike,” she shook her head, “It did feel good, all right, but…I didn’t think you’d cross boundaries like that when you know I’m not ready–”
Letting out a roar of frustration, Spike bounded off the bed. “Is it so wrong of me to want to make love to you? What’s so wrong about that, huh?”
“What is this, fucking high school? Are you pressuring me to have sex with you? Jesus Christ!” Throwing her arms up in the air, Buffy bounded off, frustrated. What was with him? He wasn’t acting like himself; he was acting like a possessive freak. He had moments of such calm and rationality and then moments like this, he was off his rocker. It was those moments that made her want to be nowhere near him until Sane Spike came back out to play.
Halfway down the stairs, she heard an inhuman roar and froze. That came from him?
“Don’t run away from me every single fucking time we have a goddamned disagreement!” he shouted.
The anger emanating from him as she stared at him standing at the top of the stairs frightened her. Not much scared her, but he was scaring her right at that very moment, which is what made her bound down the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her.
She wasn’t really thinking that clearly, not even sure where she was running to, just that she found herself in flight or fight, and her body was fleeing. That is not my Spike, she kept thinking. Scurrying into the kitchen she could hear him coming after her and she fumbled with the sliding glass door when his hand slapped on it, causing it to vibrate from the force.
She froze; her entire body stiffening before she started to tremble.
“Buffy,” he said softly. “Luv, look at me.”
Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be afraid of me. I would never hurt you, you know that right? I would never hurt you…”
She turned slowly and looked up at him, finding his eyes shining with tears. “Spike–”
Sliding to his knees, he wrapped his arms around her middle and held her tight. “Please forgive me, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never hurt you, luv, never. Please, Buffy, forgive me…”
She felt lost. The man on his knees before her was falling apart and she didn’t know what to do for him. What was going on? What made him snap like that? That couldn’t have been all about sex. She knew sex was important to a guy, but to act like that? And Spike was no abuser or rapist, either.
“Spike, please get up, please,” she begged him.
“I’m so sorry…” he whimpered.
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, she thought as she slid to the floor with him, taking him in her arms. “Spike…baby. Look at me.”
He looked at her, his face a mask of regret, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
Wiping at his tears and cooing over him sweetly, Buffy cupped her face in his hands. “Spike, what’s going on? What happened up there? Tell me…Maybe we shouldn’t sleep together anymore.”
“No, no, don’t say that.”
“I’m sorry I’m not ready, I – I just–” and now she started to sob.
“Buffy, please, Buffy…don’t cry,” he begged. “Please…you’re killing me.”
“I just want everything to be okay, and I keep messing up with you and I don’t know what to do…”
“You’re not messing up with me, you’re not. I messed up, I did. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have done that and I’m so incredibly sorry. Buffy…”
She kissed him fervently, feeling desperate to make things right. It was her sickness; it was her fault, not his. They slept in the same bed, they loved each other, and it was because of some stupid hang up that she wouldn’t have sex with him. He didn’t understand it and she didn’t know how to tell him, so really, whose fault was it? Hers. All hers.
Keeping her lips glued to his, she shoved a hand down his sweatpants and fondled his half hard cock, eliciting a groan from him. She was stroking it to life, feeling its smoothness and the sticky precum from his weeping tip.
“I’ll have sex with you,” she told him breathlessly, breaking the kiss and meeting his lustful gaze. “I will.”
His eyes fluttered shut and she jumped when she felt his hand clamp over arm tightly. She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him questioningly.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t want you that way. I want you only when you want me back.”
“I do!” she insisted.
He shook his head and tugged on her arm, encouraging her to release his deflating cock. She did so and slowly extracted her hand from inside his pants, feeling the impact of what she’d almost just done.
Buffy collapsed into tears and Spike sat down on the floor, brought her on his lap and held her there, letting her cry to her hearts content.
********
He felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Holding Buffy on his lap, his back pressed up against a knobby chair, Spike felt a torrent of guilt flood him for what he’d made her do, what he’d forced her to.
This wasn’t him, he knew that. He had never and would never have done something like that. He’d never pushed a woman to have sex with him, and it never occurred to him to do so and yet, he had pushed Buffy. She didn’t need it, not now, not when she was doing so well.
If he could just be inside her, if he could make love to her, fill her with his seed, caress and love her entire body, then by that act he would mark her as his. Then she’d never leave him; she would belong to him.
That’s going to make her run from you, you stupid git, he scolded himself. That’s not showing her bliss, that’s showing her hell. You have got to get yourself together her or you will lose her. The thought made him tremble and he held her tighter.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered near her ear, “I’m so sorry, Buffy. Please, sweetheart, please forgive me. I won’t ever do that again, I won’t, I—“
“Spike?” she asked, sounding drained and weary.
“Yes?”
She shifted against him, pushing herself back and looking up at him. “I’m going back to bed.” All the life seemed to have drained from her, her eyes were red and puffy and she looked drawn and tired.
“Okay, luv.”
“Alone.”
“I understand, sweetheart—“
“I’m not going in today.”
“That’s fine.”
She nodded and climbed off his lap, shuffling out of the kitchen. Spike stared after her, feeling lost. He’d hurt her, and from the looks of it, he’d nearly broke her. When he heard the floorboards creak from her bedroom, Spike broke down and cried. I have to make this better, I have to make this right. But how?
********
After the morning’s drama, the only thing Buffy wanted to do was hibernate. Dealing with work and with Spike, whom she knew would be hovering like a hawk and constantly apologizing all day, was just not something she felt she could deal with.
January-something-or-other
This morning was just what I needed. Just when I was doing so well, too. Things had started looking up, I was feeling confident. Why is it that I seem to be in a perpetual state of ‘take two steps forward and now take three back’?
Granted, this morning was not entirely my fault. Maybe I should have stopped him sooner; maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at him like I did, maybe I should not have had him sleep in here –
Maybe I need to shut the fuck up and stop making excuses for him turning into Scary Man this morning.
Something is not right with him and I don’t know how to fix it. I tell him I love him, I tell him I want to be with him, I’m right here with him, right there feeling all the love I have for him, needing him — and yet it’s not enough. Is it really the sex? Is that what it all comes down to? How could that be? That’s not like him, and I’d like to think I know him rather well…
I just don’t know what to do.
Shutting her journal, Buffy picked up her phone and dialed Giles only to get his voicemail. Feeling defeated, Buffy sank into the bed, tossed the covers over her head and contemplated in the safety of her beloved bed and bedroom what she was going to do next.
*******
Spike’s mind was not on work. In fact, he’d had no attention span at all to do much of anything except stare off into space and worry about Buffy, think about what he’d done and how he was going to make this one better.
The only small conclusion he came to was to stop hassling her about her new job and let her do what she needed to do in that respect. Grudgingly, he was even thinking that letting her move out might help as well…but that was very grudgingly.
When he deemed himself completely useless, he went home, leaving Richard in care of the gallery for the rest of the day. He felt tired, as tired as Buffy had looked after their morning debacle.
He contemplated getting her flowers as a means of apologizing, but it was not Buffy’s style to forgive because a gift was proffered. He could just see the look on her beautiful face if he tried that: eye brow raised, mouth turned up in a smirk and her eyes saying ‘Yeah, that’ll work’.
Arriving home, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, he trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Her door was shut which stung him. She was shutting him out – and really, could he blame her?
“Buffy?” he said gently and pushed lightly on the door. It opened slowly and he found her sleeping, curled up half under the covers in the center of the bed, snoring lightly. Strewn on the floor were newspapers with random circles and a notepad on her nightstand. Creeping in, he peered down at the papers and felt a cold hand grip his heart when it registered what they were: Apartments.
Peering over at the notepad he found her scribbles:
6pm with Dr. Lorne on Jan. 31st
28 Taylor Street at noon tomorrow
40 Maple at one tomorrow
30 Main at three tomorrow
His eyes welling up with tears, Spike moved quickly and quietly out the room. She was desperate now, she was desperate to leave him and there was nothing he could do. Not now. Not when he’d so clearly fucked up. Sliding down the wall outside her room, Spike buried his face in his hands and sobbed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, feeling incredibly lost and incredibly alone.