VIII
Perhaps if she’d been able to swallow her gasp, she could have wished herself awake.
Spike’s head shot up, the torn currents of his ocean-deep eyes burrowing into her with intensity that knocked the wind out of her. He was sitting on the corner of the bed, facing the wall that had served for weeks as her entry point to their secret rendezvous, and the minute their gazes clashed she felt every nerve of protest ram into every nerve of relief. God, she wanted to run into his arms and sob as he rocked her back and forth; she wanted to scream at him and beat on his chest and demand to know why he let her fall in love with him. Why he’d let her sink so miserably in a sentiment he could never return. She wanted to do so many things.
Mainly, she wanted to wake up.
Spike bounded to his feet, his eyes flashing in relief-drenched-outrage. “Where the bleeding hell have you been?” he demanded, storming forward.
Every cell in her body rocked closer to explosion. His proximity coupled with her tired, guilt-ridden soul had tears spilling down her cheeks in a blink. Buffy completely shut down, her back colliding with the wall behind her. Her body was torn—split with the agony of loving him and how much loving him had cost her. She couldn’t look him in the eye. She couldn’t stare into the face of the man who would be her killer. Her muscles were numb and her will was worn—she couldn’t fight him if he attacked, and she couldn’t hide herself.
He would tear her down and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
“Oh no,” Spike snarled, seizing her chin and jerking her face upward. “You don’ get to do that. You don’ get to disappear for three soddingweeks an’ then play it coy with me. Where the fuck have you been?”
Her skin buzzed and her body trembled. “Can you blame me?” she whispered. “After last time…you wanted this.”
“Bollocks.”
“You said—”
“Bugger what I said! I din’t—”
And that was it. The proverbial last straw. Buffy could no longer hold her weight—everything came crashing down. Her legs buckled and she would have collapsed were it not for the sudden presence of Spike’s hands gripping her hips. The flood behind her eyes broke free on a sob, and everything around her blurred.
“I can’t do this,” she cried, her voice torn between a whisper and a wail. Her throat was raw from sobbing already but she couldn’t stop. “I can’t. You’re killing me. This…everything…you tear me down and then touch me like…like I matter. Like I matter to you. You accused me of ruining your life and then…and now you’re angry with me for leaving you alone? I did exactly what you wanted! I did exactly what you said you…I’ve given you everything. My God, I’ve given you…and it’s killing me. Seeing you is killing me. Not seeing you is killing me. These last weeks—”
“Buffy—”
“I’ve alienated everyone. My friends. Giles. God, Angel…” Cold stabbed her insides and she buckled again, and was again supported by her vampire’s commanding hands. “I hurt him so bad—”
Spike went rigid. “What did you do?”
Though she barely heard him, the ready answer rolled off her lips. “I wanted to forget you. I wanted to get back at you. I wanted to feel—”
“What did you do?” The growl in his voice snapped her back to reality, and though she knew she should have cowered at the feral possessiveness in his eyes, the whole of her couldn’t summon enough will to care. “Bleeding hell, Buffy, I’ll kill him. Did you let him fuck you? Did you—”
“No. I couldn’t do that.” And then, just because she wanted to make him bleed, because she wanted to validate what she’d done in some way even if the guilt remained permanent, she added, “I blew him,” in a voice that sounded anything like her own.
Spike’s answering roar of fury was immensely satisfying, though it left her feeling hollow. He threw his fist through the wall beside her head, the bones in his face shifting as his fangs descended. “You’re mine!” he snarled. “I’ll fucking kill him. I bloody swear it, the wanker’s dust. No one touches you. No one!”
“Yours?” Buffy repeated incredulously, a half-insane laugh ripping off her lips. “Yours, Spike? When? When you decide? During the time you think I’m not ruining your life? I wanted to make you hurt. I wanted to make you bleed because you’re killing me. You’re killing me and you don’t care. You only care that I won’t be here to screw when your real—”
“Stop it!”
“—girlfriend isn’t in the mood. I wanted to hurt you…I knew Angel would hurt you, and I wanted to hurt you. But instead I hurt Angel…and me. I hurt myself more than I hurt you. I—”
“Stop it!”
“I—”
He cut her off by smashing his lips to hers, fangs and all. And the last string of her will snapped completely. Two roads converged in a yellow wood and she tore down each path with matched conviction. There was no fighting him—her heart hadn’t the strength and her body hadn’t the will. And at the same time, the part of her with mind enough to protest with the burden of knowledge understood she couldn’t battle her way back from this. Not from his sinful kisses or the mockingly tender way his hands caressed her skin. Not from the gentle murmurs he rumbled against her lips or the way his body trembled when he purred in pleasure. She both loved and hated him for it—for not allowing her refuge from this thing that was destroying her.
Then something happened—something she couldn’t have foreseen. Something which made the ground beneath her feet quiver in awe; something which made her heart pound with shades of hope rather than despair. Spike tore his mouth from hers, a sob choking his throat as his demon face melted away. And when their eyes clashed again, there was nothing of the hatred that had haunted her in the wake of their last disastrous encounter. Nothing of the biting resentment or the desire to have the desire to end her life. There was nothing but sorrow bathed in regret. He looked, for all the world, as though she had just tossed him a final lifeline, and he had only now opened his eyes to see what rejecting it would ultimately cost him.
“Buffy,” he gasped, the ocean in his human eyes finally spilling forward, crystallizing into tears. “My God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Incredulity stole any sort of response from her lips. There was nothing she could do but stare.
“I din’t mean it,” he babbled, seizing her cheeks and bathing her face in soft kisses. His lips consumed her like a man starved, drinking her tears and leaving her burning with want beyond hunger. “Not like I wanted to. I din’t wanna…fuck, I dunno what I wanted. But I can’t stand this. I can’t bloody stand this.”
Her voice broke. “Spike—”
“These last weeks without you…”
“It was what you wanted!”
Spike shook his head and tore away, the tears cascading down his cheeks mesmerizing her entirely. For whatever reason, she’d thought him incapable of crying—for her, anyway. And while she wanted to believe him—she wanted to believe the tears were genuine and the contrition wasn’t forged—the largest part of her was still bleeding from the lashes his words had cut into her skin. Deception of this magnitude seemed below Spike, but she was too jaded to believe anything at face value. Especially something like this—something her heart wanted more than anything; something her mind knew she could never have.
“I din’t know what I wanted,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “All I know is I can’t do rot without you. Every night I’ve…your face…your eyes. I know I’ve buggered everything, love. I know it. But I can’t…”
“You…and Dru—”
He shook his head again, harder this time. “There is no me and Dru. Not anymore.”
Something hard fell within her and had she not been against the wall already, she would have collapsed in anguish. Of course. Explanations abound. If Drusilla was through with him, he had nowhere else to turn. No one at all to fill the empty space beside him. And since Spike knew how Buffy felt about him, coercing her into occupying his bed would take little to no effort.
She wanted to scream at the world’s injustice, but all she could do was swallow hard. “There’s not?”
“No. I can’t…” A long, weary sigh rolled off his lips. “My life is sixes an’ sevens ‘cause of you. I know you din’t mean it, kitten, but it’s the way things happened. I look at her an’ all I see is you. Fuck me if I can make a lick of sense of it…all I know is when she…she makes like she really wants me for the firs’ time in years, an’ I don’t want her.” He was shaking so hard she thought he might crumble away right before her eyes, but when he managed to glance up and lock gazes with her again, there was resolution she’d never seen before. “I don’t want her. An’ I’ve never not wanted her. Never. She’s been my everything for over a century. She rescued me from mediocrity…she’s my maker, an’ every time she touches me, I can’t fucking take it ‘cause it’s not you.” A long still beat settled between them. “She’s not you. She’s not what I…she’s not you.”
Buffy exhaled slowly, her wide eyes drawing him in, every nerve in her body quivering with veiled hope. “What are you saying?”
“What am I…” Spike broke off, visibly grasping for control. He was quiet for a minute before a strained laugh tore through his body, and he turned away from her at last, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno. I don’t know anythin’ anymore. You’ve taken me up, Slayer.” He paused. “Buffy. There’s nothin’ left of me. You’re buried so deep inside that all I can think about anymore is you. I’ve been outta my mind…thinkin’ about you. Knowin’…” He paused again, another long sigh rolling off his shoulders. “Knowin’ what I said to you. What it did. Watchin’ you cry an’ knowing I was the reason. I’ve wanted to stake myself so many times because of it. An’ the bitch of it is…I wanted you to hate me. I wanted you to hate me ’cause I couldn’t hate you, no matter what I tried. No matter what I said. I thought if I shoved you hard enough, you’d let me be. My world makes bugger all sense if I don’ want Dru. If she’s not my everything.” Spike stopped shortly, his eyes glazed over and haunted. “An’ she’s not. Not anymore. I hurt you, an’ that’s torn me up. Knowin’ that…”
Buffy couldn’t help herself; she burst into tears. The shapes around her again swirled and blended, and she couldn’t make anything out anymore. The rush of emotion from the rollercoaster he’d sent her on. The catastrophic events earlier in the night—making herself hurt because of Spike, and hurting someone else in turn. And now she was here. She was in the room she’d avoided with the man who owned her heart, and he was telling her things she hadn’t allowed herself to fantasize. Things beyond surreal—things her heart desperately wanted to believe, but her brain wouldn’t allow.
“Oh Buffy…” He cupped her cheeks again, his lips caressing hers with tenderness she hadn’t hoped to touch again. “God, I’m such a berk. Please don’ cry.”
He could beg all he wanted; her tears weren’t exactly under her control.
“’m so sorry. So sorry for everything.” She felt him sigh against her; felt the gentle kiss he brushed across her brow as his hands slid down her throat and shoulders until he wasn’t holding her at all anymore. Until they were separated by degrees—degrees which felt like miles. “I never meant for this. I swear it. You’ve jus’…you’ve consumed me. I din’t know how to handle it.”
“And now what?” she managed between sobs. “You know how to handle it and you’re sorry? Okay…but what happens when I forgive you and everything’s…back? What happens when you start hating me again? I can’t take it, Spike. This is…I know I’m not the kinda girl you want. I know what we have is only in here—”
“I don’ want that.”
“Now,” Buffy agreed, nodding hard. “I was…before the accident, you were so—”
“Sweetling, the accident changed my life.”
“Mine too.”
If she lived forever and a day, she would never forget the astonished look on Spike’s face at her whispered admission. It was something he’d known, of course. Something she’d told him the last time they spoke—something she’d told him before he ripped her to shreds. But there was a fine line between knowledge and understanding—a line one would only know after traveling both paths. In an instant, Spike understood. He understood everything, and she knew because she watched him understand it. She watched light fill his eyes, coupled with guilt and sadness.
“’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his eyes fogging over again. “I din’t wanna hear it. I was so selfish. I din’t wanna hear how it ruined you. All I know is I woke up wanting you. Needing you. I needed you to be there with me. I asked for you. It changed everythin’. I din’t know what the bugger we’d been playin’ at before; I din’t know things had changed for me. An’ it kills me to know what I said to you…” He clenched his fists, his eyes falling shut as he struggled to maintain his temper. “I sent you to him.”
“I wanted to hurt you.”
The words weren’t meant to cut, but she couldn’t help the satisfied rush that raced down her spine at the pain behind his eyes. Buffy didn’t consider herself a vindictive person—she really didn’t. But she wasn’t far enough away from what had happened to detach her reactions. He’d hurt her and she wanted him to hurt in turn; no matter how much she loved him. Her wounds couldn’t be healed with pretty words and silken kisses. Not when she’d felt herself teetering at the very edge of all-consuming despair.
“You succeeded,” Spike replied softly. “The thought of you…”
“I hated it.”
His jaw clenched. “Good.”
“I just needed to feel like…like I mattered.” Another trembling sigh rippled off her lips. “Like I was…worth anything. As a woman, you know? Not a girl or the Slayer or Buffy or a human or whatever…you’re the first man I’ve ever…done anything like this with. In or out of dreams, this is…and maybe I’m no good at it. Maybe I’m missing the part that makes me all with the feminine. But I—”
“Oh God.”
“—needed to feel like someone wanted me. You didn’t…I didn’t think you did. And Angel—”
A growl split the air as Spike cupped her face again, this time anchoring her mouth into his molten kiss. The will to fight vanished completely—the two roads in her yellow wood merging at last. There was no condemnation in his touch, no revulsion and certainly no hatred. His tongue worshipped hers as his thumbs caressed gentle circles into her cheeks. He made no move to touch her intimately, even with his mouth stroking her closer to a raging inferno of desire. God, she’d never thought she’d be here again. With Spike. Tasting her tears on his lips as his own poured into her mouth. She’d never thought she’d even come close.
“Buffy…” he whispered, his voice strained. “God, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much. Come in here every night…hoping you’d come back to me. Jus’…” He broke away, pressing his brow to hers. “Jus’ hoping I’d have the chance to tell you I din’t mean it.”
“But you did,” she protested.
“No, I…I was so angry with myself. I din’t wanna feel this. Not for you. Not for anyone but…an’ now I’m torn up with wanting to go to you so I can make things better in person.” A half smile stretched his lips. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to sneak out on wheels?”
Buffy couldn’t help it. She giggled, and damn it felt good. “And here I thought if you ever sought me out again, it’d be to kill me.”
“No. God no.” Spike kissed her again hungrily. “Never. I swear it. You own too much of me. The second I’m outta that sodding chair….”
“No dusting Angel.”
He growled possessively and nipped at her lips. “He touched what’s mine.”
“I guess that ‘not-a-possession’ thing’s not gonna take, is it?”
“Never had a chance. You’re mine, love. Much as I am yours.”
Her heart leapt in her chest and the walls collapsed around her. There was suddenly a shortage of air in the room, the world around her falling silent. It was very possible he didn’t mean it; not out of malice, because history had proven Spike wasn’t the sort to manipulate. She just feared he didn’t know what he wanted and that he was living for the present rather than living for the tangible future. Spike wouldn’t know the difference; his present was his future, and if he was feeling something, he let the world know. Right now he was feeling like he belonged to her. It didn’t make it true, but the fact that he believed it melted the frozen tundra in her heart.
There were a thousand things she knew she should do, and an equal amount she knew she should avoid. A thousand things the following days could well teach her to regret. But right now—for this fleeting second—he belonged to her. He belonged to her because he believed it. The coming days could destroy her and might well, but not even knowing that could sway her. If he belonged to her, she was going to take advantage of it. This could be all she ever had and she sure as hell wasn’t going to take it for granted.
Buffy whimpered and wove her fingers through his hair, attacking his mouth with hers. She bit desperately at his lips and waged war on his tongue with her own, devouring his taste. Memorizing the feel of his skin beneath hers and the cool sensation of his hair against her fingertips. Spike was stunned motionless for about three seconds before he growled and seized her hips, thrusting his clad cock hard against her center.
“Fuck, baby.”
“Spike…”
He lifted her in his arms and the next thing she knew, she was on her back on the bed, Spike’s lips showering her throat with kisses as his hands slid up her thighs, delicately plucking at the thin material of her panties. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whimpered again. “So much.”
Her heart raced again with the implication of words he couldn’t truly mean. However, knowledge couldn’t stop her from hoping, and repetition occasionally made lies sound like truth. “Really?”
Spike glanced up, and the anguish she saw buried in his violent blue eyes about tore her apart. “Really,” he murmured, nodding in a way that seemed crippled with grief. “I was wrong. I was so wrong. About everythin’. You’re not the sort’ve woman a man can jus’ walk away from, kitten.” He sighed harshly, resting his head against her belly, his left hand slipping under the hem of her nightshirt. “I hurt you, an’ I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ up for it.”
Her pulse raced. In any other context, the words would have sounded melodramatic, and perhaps they were even now. But her girlish heart couldn’t help from swooning. It was another incident of believing he believed it. Right now with his fingers gently caressing the wet crotch of her panties, with his cheek rubbing against her as his lips pressed a series of kisses against her clothed stomach, she couldn’t help but give in to romanticism. This was the Spike she’d never thought she’d see again. The Spike she thought had died the night the organ fell.
“Memories of your taste have haunted me,” he whispered, sitting up and slowly drawing her sleep-shirt up her body. He hesitated just before baring her breasts. “Buffy?”
There was no want of protest. Not anymore. If this was all she was to have, she would cherish every single second. “Yes.”
Spike growled again and cupped her pussy with his right hand, his other tearing the sleep-shirt away. And the second cold air met her bare skin, a long whimper scratched his throat and he wrapped his hungry mouth around one of her aching breasts, cupping the weight of the other in his palm. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured around her flesh, the hand between her legs carefully bunching the stretch of cotton protecting her pussy to the side. Then his fingertips were teasing her slit, his thumb sliding over her clit and rubbing her with such tenderness that she wanted to weep all over again.
“Ohh…”
“So beautiful.” He left her breast with a soft kiss, his lips mapping a slow path down her abdomen, coating her skin with kisses. “Want you on my tongue. You’ll let me, won’ you, Buffy?” Spike didn’t bother waiting for a response, instead ripping her panties away for good, burying his face between her thighs and inhaling sharply, licking her drenched folds with a contented purr. “You promise you’re still mine, sweetling?” he murmured. “You promise this pussy hasn’t been touched?”
“Not touched,” she swore breathlessly, arching her hips off the bed. “Please.”
“Please?”
“Just…please. Before you…” She tossed her head back and whimpered, subconsciously spreading her thighs wider for him. “I need…”
Spike licked his lips, his hands framing her pussy as his thumbs gently massaged her aching feminine flesh. “I know what you need, baby,” he replied softly. “You want my mouth on you?”
Electricity fired her skin. Buffy whimpered and nodded desperately, rolling her hips under him in offering. “Oh yes.”
“Your scent has haunted me. An’ your taste…” He trembled, dipping his head to run his tongue up her slit. “Fuck, your taste. A man can grow addicted to this taste. God knows I have.” A pause. “Though I don’ think I have to tell you what happens if another bloke gets close enough to get a sample.”
Buffy sighed, her eyes falling shut. “I didn’t…”
“No, you din’t. But you…God, you have no idea, do you?” he murmured, flicking his tongue over her clit and grinning at her tortured moan. “You have no idea what it was like…comin’ in here night after night. I wanted to stop but I din’t know how. I din’t know…an’ I din’t know if you were alive or dead or hurt or jus’…I wagered you found a way.” He wrapped his lips around her slippery pearl again and sucked hard. “A way to stay away from me. But I din’t know, did I? There was no way to know.”
The idea that she could have worried him at all made her insides warm. “You were…really?”
“I was really what?” he mused, spreading her pussy lips wide to lick at her pink flesh, purring in delight.
“Worried.”
Spike’s eyes slowly trailed up her body until they were locked with hers. “You get enough time, pet, an’ everythin’ runs through your mind. Every scenario. Every possibility. I was angry at firs’. Bloody outraged.” He paused again, his gaze returning to her pussy as he slipped two fingers inside her. “Love this,” he whispered. “Love watchin’ you drench my fingers. Love watchin’ a small part of me disappear inside you.”
She really hoped he wasn’t saying anything important, because the explosion of pleasure rocketing through her body had her ears ringing with the shrill of her own screams. It’d been so long. Every night seemed to eclipse a thousand years. And here she was again—spread naked on the bed before the man she loved, his mouth worshipping her pussy. His voice whispering words she’d never thought to hear in actuality.
“You’re so soft. So wet.”
“Spike…”
He smiled gently and dipped his head again, licking her clit with tender veneration that had her insides trembling. “I was angry at firs’,” he repeated. “At you…but really at me. I’m not an idiot, love. I knew what I’d done the second you were gone. What you said…the look in your eyes…” A still beat settled between them and Buffy shivered. She didn’t want any reminders of what she’d said—not now. And evidently Spike didn’t either, because instead of calling her on her admission, he turned his eyes to his thrusting fingers with a delighted purr. “I got worried after you din’t come back. I dunno what I thought…maybe jus’ a day would do it for you. But then you weren’ here the next day. Or the next. So…yeah, I started thinkin’ of everything that could’ve happened. An’ how it would’ve been my fault.”
“Your fault?” Buffy repeated softly, her brow furrowing. “How?”
Spike arched a brow and licked his lips. “You know how,” he replied, his eyes not leaving her pussy, seemingly entranced by his thrusting fingers. “I wanna be in here so badly. Know I mucked it up. Know I don’ deserve it. But God…I wanna feel you around my cock.”
“Spike—”
“I know, love. An’ I can wait. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove I deserve this. Doesn’ matter how long it takes; I’m here now. Not gonna do anythin’ to muck this up. Not again.” He slowly retracted his fingers from her warmth, and his moan of protest at the loss of her silken walls around his flesh nearly outdid hers. “’m here now,” he murmured again, sinking his tongue inside her as he captured her swollen clit between his fingers. “’m here, an’ I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
There were a few patchy incidents in her past when the words too good to be true provided an accurate summary for what she was feeling. All fell short to this moment. To Spike’s tongue thrusting deep inside her, drawing her juices into his throat as his fingers manipulated her clit and driving her to the proverbial edge with ferocity that would have terrified her had it not felt so good. He’d wormed his way through every conceivable barrier she’d attempted to construct in the fallout of their last meeting, and he’d done so without so much as batting an eye.
She loved him, and her body wanted him inside. More than the explosive feel of his tongue thrusting into her aching hole and his fingers massaging her clit. She wanted to cross the final threshold. She wanted him to mark her, and the rapidity of her surrender had her questioning every facet of herself.
But she didn’t care. Spike was with her now. Her wounded heart was healing.
“Not going anywhere?” Buffy demanded, weaving her fingers through his hair. “You promise?”
Spike glanced up, breathing raggedly, and the sight of his glistening mouth made her tremble. “I promise, Buffy,” he whispered. “I’m yours. I’m all yours. An’ I’ll—”
“What about Dru?”
She was amazed she was able to say the woman’s name without spitting nails. Especially now. Now when she was vulnerable to him in every sense of the word. Emotionally. Physically. Entirely. She was naked and spread, his head perched between her thighs, and he literally held her in his hands.
Mentioning the very woman who had separated them was probably the stupidest thing she could have done. But at the same time, she needed to know. Before she gave him the last bit of herself—before she submitted to him entirely—she needed him to be honest with her. She needed him to not scream at the reminder of his sire. She needed this Spike to remain with her no matter what was said or done.
If he was telling her the truth—the truth beyond what he believed was true and what was actually true—then he was right. He was hers.
The seconds between question and answer could have occupied a millennia.
“I told you, kitten,” Spike said at last. “Dru’s not a factor.”
“But—”
“She’s not. I don’t let her touch me, an’ she’s stopped trying.” He sucked her clit between his lips with a delighted whimper, his eyes rolling back when she cried out and thrust her pussy against his face. “I know…I can’t manage without you. Not anymore.”
Buffy blinked rapidly, doing her best to ignore the sparks of ecstasy shooting through her veins. He was much too good at distracting her. “But what if—”
“What if nothin’. I mean it.”
“Even—”
“Slayer, when I’m healed, I’m leavin’. I’m leavin’ her completely.” He paused and let the words settle, his eyes challenging her to question the seriousness of the assertion. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t question—she couldn’t do anything. She was stunned beyond reaction. Her nerves buzzed and her body throbbed and she couldn’t do anything but stare at him in astonishment. When he was satisfied she understood, he smiled and raised himself up on his arms, slowly prowling up her body and making sure she felt every thick inch of him through the denim separating them. “I dunno what I’ll do yet,” he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and thrusting his hard cock against her wet flesh. “Where I’ll go.”
“Go?”
Spike arched a brow, a heartbreakingly kind smile tickling his lips. He reached a hand up to brush wayward strands of hair away from her face. “You think I’m gonna leave? Three weeks away from you an’ I nearly lost my sodding mind. I can’t leave.”
“Oh, I didn’t—”
“If you wanted to teach me a lesson in how much you mean to me, then—”
“Spike, I didn’t mean for that to be—”
He cut her off with a soft kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, a whimper clawing at his throat. “I know,” he whispered. “But that’s what happened. I’m not gonna be fool enough to let you go again. Far as I’m concerned, you’re it.”
“I don’t—”
“You love me.”
There it was. The unspoken cloud of tension between them finally exploded. It was out. God, it was there between them. Her throat ached. Her heart pounded. Her eyes watered with the imminence of rejection. But there was nothing but warmth in his gaze. Nothing to suggest her heart was about to be trampled for the unpardonable sin of loving him. Perhaps, then, it really was that simple. Perhaps things could be fixed that easily. Perhaps all he’d needed was distance and time. Perhaps her disappearance really had impacted him, and in a manner she couldn’t have predicted.
“Spike…”
He brushed his lips across her brow. “You love me,” he whispered.
Tears spilled over her eyes without warning. She was so damnably sick of crying. “I do,” she whispered, her voice sounding like a shout to her ears. “I didn’t mean to, but I—”
“You give me somethin’ that precious an’ I…” Spike shivered hard and pressed his brow to hers, his hips unable to keep from steadily grinding against hers, the zipper of his jeans rubbing her clit without mercy. “Buffy…”
“I’m it?” she asked breathlessly. The question was delayed, but she needed an answer nonetheless. And though she hated how hopeful she sounded, there was no helping herself. She needed to know. She needed to know so badly.
He kissed her sweetly and nodded against her lips. “Oh yes.”
And the tears swelled again. Lousy tears.
“Really?” she repeated, her voice cracking.
“God, yes.” His lips couldn’t stop caressing her skin, punctuating every word with a kiss. “I told you—lesson bloody well learned. I’m not doin’ this again. You…I don’ care what it costs me anymore. Not havin’ you here has…whatever I said before…I can’t imagine anythin’ worse than what I went through when you weren’t here, an’ I’d rather not try.”
“You don’t mind?” At his frown, she cleared her throat self-consciously and clarified, “The me slayer, you vampire thing. I don’t understand how it could go from being the most important thing to not important at all…but…you really don’t mind now?”
Spike paused at that, his eyes suddenly clouded with contemplation. And instinctively, Buffy began an emotional retreat. While she logically understood any answer needed to come with forethought lest he betray a lack of actual consideration, the empty spaces between his words did little more than fill her wounded heart with doubt.
“I can’t say that,” he conceded a second later, his hands seizing her shoulders when she unconsciously began to struggle beneath him. “Buffy…I’m still a vampire. I’m still evil at heart. I’m still tryin’ to wrap my mind around how you could’ve wheedled your way in so deep without me noticin’ until…until it was pointed out to me. I honestly dunno what we were playin’ at before. I dunno what I thought. An’ maybe I was hopin’ it wasn’ real jus’ as much as I wanted it to be real. When it was just my dreams, there wasn’t nearly as much on the line.” Spike broke his eyes away from hers, a long, heavy sigh racing through his body. “It’s gonna take time for me. I wanted to hate you more than anything, but I can’t. You’ve still buggered up my life but I don’ care anymore. I dunno how I went from bein’ so in love with Drusilla that the idea of…” He stopped talking when he realized how still she’d become, choosing his words carefully. “…an’ that was a large part of it. Coming to terms with the idea that my love for Dru wasn’ what I thought it was. It couldn’t be…not if it was so easy for you to sneak in.”
She was both singing with hope and bleeding from reopened wounds—she couldn’t stop listening but she couldn’t bear to hear another word. “Spike, I can’t—”
“Jus’ listen—”
“I don’t—”
“Slayer, I’m still workin’ through this myself. It’s not gonna be an easy ride whichever way we mount it. All I know for certain is I need you.”
There was no disguising the tremble in her voice. “Need?”
Spike grinned. “Haven’t you gotten that through your thick skull? With as outta my mind as I’ve been, you’re not leavin’ my sight. An’ that’s it, love. That’s all I know. The rest…I wager we’ll figure it out as we go along.”
And there was really nothing more she could ask for, was there? While the words she longed to hear were nowhere near the surface of his many confessions, what he’d given her would have to be enough. He was with her, peppering her skin with soft kisses and moving against her body. He was with her because he needed her—because this was where he wanted to be. Because he’d chosen her.
Then something amazing happened. Spike pulled back and flashed her—Buffy—a nervous grin. “Is that…” he began tentatively. “Is that somethin’…I know it’s not what you want jus’ yet, but God help me, I’m tryin’. I—”
In cases like these, there was no better answer than grasping a handful of hair and tugging him down to her lips, swallowing him in an eager, demanding kiss that left nothing of her behind. It was enough. It was more than enough. It was a promise for something she never thought she’d touch. This was everything. Savoring his kisses and knowing there would be something to come back for tomorrow. Devouring his whimpers as her tongue declared war on his mouth. There wasn’t enough of him—she needed every bit of what he had to offer inside. He kissed her with a mouth that knew her intimately, and thrusting herself against the hardness cradled at the apex of her thighs, her blood rushed and she knew she’d crossed the final barrier.
It was quick. So quick. But he had no reason to lie to her. Not when he knew he already had her love.
“Spike,” she gasped between kisses, her hands jerking his shirt up his back, forfeiting his delicious mouth for a second to rip the garment away for good. “I want…”
“Tell me,” Spike replied, his wandering lips wrapping around one of her nipples, his left hand again finding her breast. “What do you need, kitten?”
“You,” Buffy whispered with borrowed confidence. “Inside.”