Chapter 5
Three days later
Buffy walked through her apartment, shoes dangling from one hand and pulling out rollers from her hair with the other as her phone rang. She sighed in frustration and ran to her purse to retrieve her cell, frowning when she didn’t recognize the number. She flipped it open with her chin and said, “Hello?”
“It’s funny, I had this girl come over the other day,” the voice on the other line said, “and she was cute in that All-American sort of way, you know? An’ I kept thinkin’, I am bored out of my sodding mind.”
Buffy smiled. “So what did you do with her?”
“Before or after, luv?”
“Surprise me.”
“Well, she kept goin’ on and on about unicorns, hey don’t laugh at me!”
Buffy suppressed her giggling to say, “Unicorns?” She continued pulling hot rollers out of her hair, cradling the cell phone against her shoulder as she went back to the bathroom.
“Apparently they’re mystical creatures, have you heard of this?”
“I might have read that somewhere. Smart girl.”
“Turns out she’s my biggest fan.”
“Oh, boy.”
Spike sighed and pulled the phone away for a second, closing his eyes. “I didn’t really have any reason to call you. I just…”
Buffy smiled. “What are you doing right now?”
“Walking out the door and meeting you wherever you are.”
“Presumptuous aren’t we?”
“Am I wrong?”
“I’m going to MINC tonight, on my way right now.”
“That bar with the dance thing?”
“Yup. It’s Friday night.”
“So you have a routine, then?”
“It’s…yeah. So, are you coming?”
“Are you inviting?”
“Because you haven’t been laying the groundwork for that this entire time,” she joked.
“Oi, if you don’t want me to go, just say so.”
“Spike.”
“Buffy.”
“Be there at 8. I’ll be wearing a white tank dress and black heels.”
“Mmm, what else are you wearing?”
“Good bye, Spike,” she smiled and hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment before she tucked it back in her purse. She placed her hands on her hips and sighed. “Shit.”
~*~*~*~*~
When 8:30 came and Spike still hadn’t shown up, Buffy decided not to worry about it anymore. He wasn’t coming and she should just go about her business as she had planned anyhow. She walked out onto the dance floor and started swaying her hips, running her hands up the back of her neck and scanning the crowd for a partner. She didn’t have to wait long and a tall brunette with broad shoulders came up behind her, immediately wrapping his hands around her waist and moving against her. He was a pretty good dancer, but he was getting a little grabby for her taste. She’d only had one drink and those were definitely three drink moves so she politely excused herself from him and made her way to the bar, stopping halfway when she saw Spike staring at her.
“Well, look who decided to show,” she said smiling as she walked around him to get to the bar.
“Sorry, had to take care of something an’ it took longer than I expected.”
She shrugged her shoulders and noticed that he wasn’t alone. “Who is this?” she asked, pointing at the short redheaded man next to him.
“This is Oz.”
Oz raised his hand apologetically. “Had a rough night. Spike was nice enough to force me to tag along.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Buffy. And I’m also thirsty, be right back,” she said as she turned to the bartender.
“She’s cute,” Oz said to Spike.
“She’s more than that,” he said wistfully.
Oz smiled knowingly and took a sip of his beer. “Careful, man.”
“Trust me. I know.”
~*~*~*~*~
Oz and Buffy seemed to get along really well, much to Spike’s surprise. The three of them talked for a few hours, laughing and sharing random stories as their bar tabs increased. Oz realized that Spike was feeling a bit more than lust for the blonde, noticing that more than once he’d been staring at her with longing. It gave him the creeps, really. Spike wasn’t that guy…and yet, there was something about Buffy that was making him that guy.
“So, tell me how you met Buffy,” he asked when it was just the two of them.
“Stacy’s party sometime a couple weeks ago.”
Oz nodded his head. “And you like her.”
Spike sighed and sat back in his chair. “I don’t know, mate. We’ve just had this…weird thing. I don’t even know what it is. But I feel connected to her somehow, like there’s something more but…I don’t know.”
“So, I guess you don’t have a problem with what she’s doing right now?”
Spike furrowed his brow at his friend and Oz nodded towards the dance floor. Spike followed his eyes and started panting when he saw Buffy. Some Nick Cave look-a-like was grinding into her, lifting one of her thighs up and breathing on her neck. She turned around and pressed her back against him, raising her hands in the air as she moved to the beat and then made eye contact with Spike. He tried to keep his expression emotionless but his jealousy was struggling to break the surface. He took an angry swig of his beer and watched as she dry fucked this guy on the dance floor, looking right at him as if to taunt him. Hell, he didn’t know why she was looking at him but he finally averted his eyes, unable to watch any longer. He supposed he didn’t have any room to judge, considering the fact he’d slept with two different girls since he’d last seen her, but for some reason, it still stung. Wasn’t like he was rubbing it in her face. Buffy stood still when Spike looked away and she frowned, casually dismissing her dance partner and walking back to the table. Spike looked pissed and she didn’t like it. So she did the only thing she knew how to do.
She sat in his lap and started nibbling on his ear.
“Why the long face,” she said flirtatiously, rubbing his chest and Spike stared into nothingness, swigging his beer and flinching when she tried to touch him.
Oz was just incredibly uncomfortable.
“No reason,” he lied, forcing a smile and wrapped one arm around her waist.
This seemed to calm Buffy’s nerves and she settled into him. “I think I’m kind of drunk,” she said giggling.
“Yeah, you’ve had a bit, luv.”
“Let’s go,” she whispered in his ear and trailed her fingers against his throat.
Spike hated how easily his body reacted to hers. He was still pissed off and at the same time, the thought of turning away a night of being buried inside her was just not on the menu. He needed her too badly.
“Ok, then,” he said abruptly. “Oz, can you get home all right?”
“Sure man,” he said cautiously, eyeing the blonde girl in his friend’s lap. “You two be careful.”
“Nice to meet…to meet you, Oz,” Buffy stammered and beamed at him as Spike pulled her out of the club.
Oz raised his beer in a salute and watched them exit. “Oh, Spike, Spike, Spike…”
~*~*~*~*~
Spike closed the door behind him, watching as Buffy struggled to remove her heels. He slowly walked into his loft, keys dangling from his hands. Buffy strolled over to the stereo and turned it on, smiling blissfully as she started dancing with herself. She turned around and crooked a finger at him, biting her lower lip.
“Come here, you.”
He sighed and tossed his keys onto a table and cautiously approached her, taking off his leather motorcycle jacket. He closed his eyes and stood stiff as she ran her hands up his chest and swiveled her hips against him. Images of her dancing with that guy polluted his thoughts and he couldn’t understand why he cared so much. She was here with him now, ready and willing from the looks of it. But as she snuck her hands beneath his t-shirt and kissed his jaw, he opened his stupid mouth.
“Why were you dancing with that guy?”
She giggled and rubbed against him, nipping at his throat, unaware that Spike had yet to touch her at all. “He asked me to. God, you smell good.”
“Buffy,” he closed his eyes, resisting the urge to rip her dress off and quit acting like a git. “You know what I mean.”
She pulled away and smiled, her eyes darting around the room. “God, what’s gotten into you? I thought you liked watching me dance. Remember?”
“That was different. Things…were different then.” His eyes followed her as she casually walked around the room, scrunching her hands in her hair like a bitch in heat and moving seductively to the music.
“Why, because we hadn’t fucked then?” She turned to face him, trailing her hands down her stomach to her thighs.
“Well…yeah!” He was starting to get angry with how nonchalant she was being about all of this. “Why did you even ask me to come out tonight if you were going to screw some git on the dance floor?”
“I wasn’t…” she sighed. “Please don’t go all jealous-boyfriend on me right now. It’s not a big deal, ok? We’re not even…”
His jaw clenched and he pursed his lips. “Just a bloody good time, right? No big deal, just a fuck, right?”
She stared at him for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. She was really tipsy and he was so confusing and all she wanted to do was have sex. Didn’t he bring her back here for that? So why was he being weird? “Is this because I left in the middle of the night?”
“No,” he said adamantly. “I knew you’d do that. I just didn’t expect…”
Deciding that the best way to avoid fighting with him was distraction, she moved over to him again and linked her arms around his neck. “Come on, let’s not do this. I need you, Spike. Really, really bad,” she purred, rubbing her chest against him and kissing his throat.
“You need me to fuck you,” he said flatly.
“Yes,” she panted.
“All right then. Take your fucking dress off.”
She backed up slightly and laughed nervously. “What?”
“You heard me. You want me to fuck you? Want to know what it’s like to fuck me?” When she didn’t answer and merely looked at him in surprise, he walked towards her. “Take. Off. Your dress.”
“Ok,” she nodded, unable to look at him as she pulled her dress off. She should be angry with his tone, and part of her was, but the other part, the part that had been driving her crazy for the past two weeks wanted him too badly to resist him. She stood in front of him wearing only her panties and heels and folded her arms across her chest.
Spike turned to the side and pulled off his t-shirt and started to undo his belt. “Turn around.”
“What—”
“Turn around, Buffy!” She jumped when he shouted and then gasped as he quickly walked towards her and spun her around, bending her over the back of the couch.
“Spike,” she pleaded, “what are you doing?”
He tugged her underwear down and leaned over her, whispering in her ear. “What’s the matter, pet? Isn’t this what you want? Don’t you want my cock?”
“Yes,” she said pathetically, blinking away tears as he rammed inside her.
“Dammit, Buffy,” he said with a trembling voice, grabbing her by the back of the neck. “Is this how you want it?”
As Spike plowed into her from behind in a way that was obviously difficult for him to do, she realized something that broke her heart. Not once had Spike ever fucked her. Even when he didn’t know her name, they didn’t fuck. But this…bent over his couch, unable to see his face, unable to feel his body slowly moving over hers, having him grunt as he thrust inside her, grip her hair like reins…this was fucking. He was claiming her, marking her as his, discarding her as a human being and merely a hole to get his fix. This was what she thought she wanted from him. And it disgusted her that even now, even when every thrust of his hips proved how sick she was, she couldn’t get enough. She couldn’t stop feeling him inside her.
He stopped suddenly, resting his forehead on her back and gripping her arms as he struggled to breathe. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re fucking everywhere, Buffy.” He moved his hips again, slower this time, bringing his mouth higher to hover over her cheek. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
She screwed her eyes shut and panted, focusing on the feel of him inside her, trying to swallow her emotions.
“Don’t leave tonight,” he begged her.
She lowered her head. “Ok.”
“Please, please, Buffy…don’t leave. Don’t leave.”
He kept repeating it, knowing that she was only placating him. He knew she’d leave, knew she’d sneak away the first chance she got but he clung to the lie she gave him and came inside her shortly after she did. He pulled out and turned her around, smoothing her hair and begging her silently to look him in the eyes. He’d never been as vulnerable in front of someone before, never lost it completely and he needed to know that she understood. But she knelt down and pulled up her underwear, avoiding any further conversation about it.
“Buffy…”
“I can’t.”
He sighed. “I know.”
She licked her lips and turned around, grabbed her dress and awkwardly put it back on.
“You’re leaving.”
“This is just…” she tugged her hair out of her dress and slung her purse over her shoulder, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “I didn’t want this.”
“I didn’t either.”
They looked at one another for a moment and he tried again, unable to let her leave just yet. “You sure you can’t stay?”
“You really want me to?”
“Bloody hell, yes!” He cast a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with how pathetic he sounded but he couldn’t let it end like this. “Just…do something for me, ok?”
She nodded, chewing on her lip and trying her hardest to look into his eyes.
“When you leave in the middle of the night,” he laughed humorlessly, “because you will…please just say goodbye. Can you do that? Can you wake me up?”
She was silent for a long while. Part of her felt guilty that he knew she’d lied to him, he knew she’d leave and yet he still wanted her to stay. And she wanted to as well…she did, but she wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to being wanted for something other than her body. But Spike wanted something more. What that was, she didn’t really know but she supposed she owed him this one small favor. “I can do that.” She smiled warily and set her purse down. “I’ll stay.”