Chapter 15
Spike was overwhelmed with emotion, a feeling of gratitude washing over him for having met the woman in his arms. They’d been standing in his bedroom, kissing one another for so long that his lips were starting to go numb, but he didn’t care. He had to hold on for a little longer, cling to the happiness she’d given him, the relief she’d bestowed upon him that maybe his life wouldn’t be so empty. But Buffy was starting to show signs of pulling away and he smiled, gripping her by the waist and holding her still.
“Where do you think you’re going,” he smiled against her throat before he kissed it.
“My legs are screaming at me to sit down. Let’s take this elsewhere.” She backed away and grabbed his hands, tugging him gently to his bed. “I like kissing you.”
“That makes two of us,” he said with a goofy grin as he lay down beside her and gathered her in his arms. He chuckled when his hand got caught in her hair. “I like your bed head, too.”
She pouted and buried her face in his chest. “Haven’t had time to brush it yet.”
“Aww, gimmie a kiss, pouty.”
She smiled shyly at him before she pressed her lips against his, sighing when he rolled her onto her back. Even with him settled between her legs and kissing her like a man in love, she could tell he was restraining himself. She knew he wasn’t going to take it any further and it frustrated her; because his resistance only made her think about what had happened, it only made her more aware of what was done to her. She didn’t want that from Spike. She wanted him to treat her the way he always had. Buffy didn’t want to deny him something that before yesterday, she’d been all too willing to give him.
So she pulled off his tee and dragged her nails down his chest until she found purchase on his belt. He rose up on all fours and looked down at her with a tilt of his head, questioning her intentions with his expressive eyes. She let out a frustrated sigh and craned her neck upwards to kiss him as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, smiling inwardly when she found that he was already hard. Spike immediately went into action, pulling his t-shirt off of her, baring her naked body to his starving mouth. When he sucked on her nipples and gently caressed her folds she screwed her eyes shut, willing away the panic that came out of nowhere, telling herself over and over that this was Spike, that he wouldn’t hurt her, that she wanted this.
He was being gentle in a way he’d never been before and after what had just been admitted between the two of them, she guessed that if she was in a better state of mind that this would have been a beautiful moment. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Tony. When she heard Spike pull his jeans off and press his body against hers, it took all her strength not to cry, repeating the mantra over and over in her head. It’s Spike, it’s Spike, it’s Spike.
He was breathing against her neck between kisses, tucking his hands beneath her back as he whispered how much he loved her. Her eyes shot open when she felt his erection nudging her entrance, only to abruptly shut them as her body braced itself for the intrusion. He’d barely entered her and the pain was excruciating. No matter how hard she tried to hold it back, she couldn’t help the cry that tore from her throat.
“Stop! Stop-stop, please stop!”
Spike stilled above her and looked at her, horrified. She was slapping his shoulders and sobbing, unable to even look him in the eye. He was frozen in shock for a moment before he somehow managed to pull out, terrified that he’d hurt her and felt even worse when she shoved him off of her and scrambled off the bed.
“Buffy,” he called to her, feeling tears in his eyes as he watched her back away from him as if she were afraid of him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried and quickly ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
Spike exhaled, feeling a weight pressing down on his stomach and his chest tighten with guilt and shame. That was exactly why he’d restrained himself, afraid she wasn’t quite ready. But she’d been so calm, so eager that he just assumed…
He lay stretched out on his bed, trying not to cry, though it was a futile effort. He could hear her in the bathroom and it only made it worse, only made his anger twist into ugly knots. He wished he could kill the bastard for doing this to her. But even worse than that was the anger he felt for himself, for not stopping to see if she was one hundred percent sure…for making her look at him that way. He never, ever wanted to see that expression on her face again, as if he was a monster, as if she was terrified of him. More than ever he wanted her to live with him but he wouldn’t bring it up again. Not until she was ready. He wouldn’t push it. And strangely, this awful experience only made him love her more, only made him want to protect her and keep her safe.
Which was precisely what he was going to do. He pulled on his jeans and his shirt and walked to the bathroom, leaning against the door as he spoke to her.
“Buffy, can I come in?”
He heard her sniffle and take a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Spike.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who…” he sighed. “Can I come in, please?”
She was silent for a moment, sitting on the cold tile of his bathroom floor, feeling like an idiot. She knew she’d hurt him but she just reacted. The look on his face broke her heart. She knew he hadn’t meant to cause her any pain. She knew he was only doing what she’d urged him to do. He was a lot smarter than she gave him credit for and she shouldn’t have pushed because he knew she wasn’t ready. But he loved her. That much she knew. Her feelings validated when he came to the bathroom to talk to her, forcing her to face the situation with him instead of on her own. “Can you bring me something to wear?”
“Of course…be right back.”
He returned with a pair of sweatpants, underwear and a tank top. She couldn’t look at him and merely dressed herself, highly aware that he was watching her every move, waiting to see if he could come to her aid in any way. “I should probably brush this rat’s nest,” she tried to joke, grabbing her brush from the sink.
“Ok, pet. I’ll be in the living room. Are you hungry?”
She shook her head and smiled softly. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
He looked at her with a sad expression. His fingers were flicking against each other, obviously a nervous reaction as he debated whether or not he should say something. But he didn’t, and turned to go into the living room.
~*~*~*~
She sat on the recliner. Not on the sofa next to him, he couldn’t help but notice. On the recliner. Almost seven feet away. She tucked her feet beneath her legs and smoothed a non existent wrinkle on her sweatpants with her hands.
“Can we talk about this?”
She chewed on her bottom lip and stared at the floor. “If you want to.”
“No, not if I want to,” he moved to the edge of the couch, making the distance between them only three feet instead of seven. “This is up to you. I don’t want to push you anymore than…I just want to help you.”
“I don’t,” she paused, frustrated that she was crying again and wiped angrily at her tears. “I don’t know how you can help me, Spike. I think this is just going to take some time.”
His need to comfort her in some way was agonizing, but he stayed where he was, allowing her the space she’d created between them. “What happened in there,” he said cautiously, “I don’t ever want to happen again. I don’t need sex to be close to you. I want you here with me, Buffy. You. Not your body. I don’t ever want to hurt you, ever.”
She looked at him then, choking back a sob when she saw his red eyes. “I wanted…I just wanted you to make me forget what happened. I just want to forget it!”
Spike reacted, bringing his hand out to touch her and once he realized what he was doing, he changed course and placed his hand on the arm of the recliner. “I wish I could make you forget. I wish I could make it all go away but I can’t. And neither can you. But it might help if you talk about it. Just get it out, you know?”
She furiously shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms over her chest. “No. I can’t…Spike, I can’t talk about this with you.”
“Why?” He was touching her knee.
“Because…because you have enough going on right now! You don’t need my baggage. I’ll be fine.”
“Bull shit. Don’t play the martyr act, Buffy. I’ll decide what I can and can’t deal with. It may sound cold, but my mum’s not bloody goin’ anywhere. She’s in a fucking zip lock bag in the pantry! And guess who helped me when I needed it? You did. Let me be there for you.” His eyes were open and pleading, locking onto her eyes that were unable to meet his. “I’m concerned about you because I love you. I want you to talk to me because I love you.” His hand curled around her foot.
She glared at him for the martyr comment before she realized he was right. He was willing to listen, trying so hard to be there for her and yet was incredibly lost as to how to go about doing that. The slow stroke of his thumb on the arch of her foot was proof enough. She’d retreated from him and he kept reaching out to her. God, she loved him.
With a brave, calming sigh she said, “Ok.”
“Ok?” He blinked.
“Ok, I’ll tell you.”
He held his breath and listened to her as she went over every sordid detail. How weak she felt in the beginning, giving in to what was going to happen, how things had turned violent and she started to fight him back, though she couldn’t stop it. It was the worst thing he’d ever heard and he was so proud of her for getting through it. She’d cried the whole time but never missed her stride as she relayed the story, but he could see how much pain she was really in. He almost interrupted her to tell her that it was ok, but he held back thinking it was probably better for her to purge it in one go. She’d held his hand at one point and by the time she’d come to the end, she was curled up in his lap, speaking softly as she struggled through it. When she tucked her head beneath his chin and played with the sleeve of his shirt, he finally allowed the tears he’d been holding to fall, squeezing her body tight against his. He thought about that morning when she was almost playful with him, trying to make jokes and put on a show for him when just the night before she was an absolute wreck. He didn’t want her hiding from him, but he supposed that not all of it was for him, but for her. She wanted to forget, wanted things to go back to normal and had instantly fallen into their routine of easy banter, seeking that sense of normality.
He was glad he’d canceled the show. After everything that had happened, there was no way he could schmooze and kiss ass all night hoping to turn a quick buck on his paintings. No way in hell.
The pain in his heart he felt for her was almost unbearable but he would be her strength. He wouldn’t allow her to be the one to pretend to save face.
And if Tony managed to post bail…Spike was going to kill him.
~*~*~*~
Spike was in the kitchen making a late lunch when Buffy came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him between the shoulder blades.
“Whatcha makin’?” She’d forced him off the couch earlier, saying that under no circumstances were they going to talk about the Tony Incident any more that day, under the condition that if she wanted to talk to him about anything, she wouldn’t hesitate and could they please get something to eat before she died of starvation? At least it got a smile and he kissed her on the forehead and reluctantly went to the kitchen.
“Braised ox tail with spices from Andalusia, served with fennel and roasted potatoes. And to drink, a vintage red wine.” He turned around, handing her a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a glass of water.
She giggled and took the dishes from him. “My compliments to the chef.” She kissed him on the cheek and walked to the breakfast table with him following after her.
“The chef needs to go grocery shopping. Oh, this is bloody disgusting.”
She swallowed a bite of food and laughed. “It’s not that bad. It’s mac and cheese! Can’t go wrong, there.”
“Yes you can. You can go very, very wrong there, luv.” He forced another bite. “I don’t know why I even bought it. Might have been drunk.”
“So, how much work do you have to do before the show?” She leaned her cheek on her propped up fist, stabbing her noodles with her fork.
“A lot, actually. ‘ve got two paintings that need varnishing, still have to go to the gallery and make sure the pieces are installed correctly, and then ‘ve got to frame the last two. Why?”
“Need help? I’m good with a hammer and a paint brush!”
He smiled. “Nah, I can handle it.”
She set her fork down and folded her hands together, leaning forward as she spoke to him. “How can I put this in a way that you’ll understand? I’m going to help you or else I’m going to go crazy.”
He laughed and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand and nodded. “All right. Since you put it that way.”
She grinned and started eating again. “See? Always get my way.”
Spike watched her grinning with her easy victory, munching on her food and he couldn’t help it. He grabbed the seat of her chair and tugged it towards him. She yelped as the abrupt movement almost knocked her onto the floor and giggled as he scrambled to catch her. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“No,” he laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m trying to give you macaroni breath.” He opened his mouth, exposing the bite he’d yet to swallow and moved in on her.
“Eww!” She turned her head from side to side, avoiding his gaping maw and the weird moaning noises he was making, giggling as he continued to torture her.
He swallowed and stuck out his tongue as far as he could. “There, see? All gone.”
“But you still have macaroni breath,” she giggled and pushed against his chest weakly as he puckered his lips.
“Fine,” he said as he lifted his chin defiantly. “Then you shall never have the pleasure of Spike’s macaroni breath. You’re missin’ out, pet.”
He released her and settled himself in his seat, ignoring her as he ate his lunch though the corners of his mouth were twitching. She knew he was trying not to smile.
She sighed happily and propped her elbows on the table, cradling her chin in her hands and smiled at him.
“What are you smiling at? You already denied my noodle scented kisses.”
Buffy was so grateful for him, for how he tried. The comfort she felt just being around him was more than she’d ever hoped for and she knew that in time she would heal, as long as he was with her. “I love you.”
He smiled reverently at her with a crooked grin and ran his fingers through her hair and down one arm. “Love you, too.”
She leaned across the table, grabbed him by the chain around his neck and kissed him. And then she started laughing against his lips. “You taste like Kraft dinner.”
“Told you,” he smiled and kissed her again. “Bloody addictive, innit?”
“Completely,” she went in for another.