Part Seventeen: Dancing in the Chequer’d Shade
“Are you out of your bloody mind?”
Buffy smirked as she skipped over yet another puddle. She was so used to daytime strolls through the sewers these days that she could practically anticipate the icky parts before they came upon them. New superpower for the win. “So you think it’s a bad idea?” she said, trying to hold in a laugh.
“Bad idea? Bad doesn’t begin to cover it, love.” Spike barked a laugh and shook his head. “You’re going on the hope that Stay Puft firstly remembers something that happened well over a year ago, and secondly that you’ll get the support of the entire bloody graduating class? Sweetheart, have you seen the mindless prepubescent whelps that attend that bloody school of yours? I have. Hell, I’ve eaten a few of them. Most are lucky to be graduating at all.” He puffed furiously at the cigarette that he’d wedged between his lips almost the second they’d left the hospital. “Besides the fact, you have to lure the bloody Mayor to this arsenal that Harris may or may not be able to provide, just hours after you were released from the sodding hospital!”
“Glad to know that I have your support.”
Spike arched an eyebrow at her before his eyes turned soft. “I just…bugger, I wasn’t ready for the Ascension to be today.”
She grinned and squeezed his hand. “I don’t think anyone was,” she replied. “Well, the past twenty-four hours have been bizarre. The longest day of my life.”
“Hear, hear.” Spike pressed a kiss to her temple. “You do realize that you’re asking me for the second time to put your life on the line.”
“I’m not asking you to. It’s what I do. I have to do it.”
“I know.”
“The Mayor has to be stopped. This is…I have a responsibility to—”
“I know, pet, I know.” He glanced to the ground sheepishly. “I just don’t want you to.”
“Spike—”
“Any other day and it would’ve been fine. I knew it was coming, but fuck, you have no idea what I went through last night.”
Buffy pursed her lips and drew in a deep breath. “Yeah…I do,” she replied. “You have no idea what I went through yesterday. Yeah, Spike. I know it’s too soon. It’s too soon for me, too. But we don’t get to choose. After tonight, everything—”
“Yeah. After tonight. Till the next power-hungry bloke decides to make our lives a living hell.”
“This is who we are.”
“I know.”
Buffy bit her lip to keep from grinning. She was pretty damn sure that’s what normal people would call a Freudian slip, but she also knew that not pointing that out would spare her a twenty-minute rant, so she kept quiet.
“Think I can persuade you in coming away with me this summer?” he asked her a minute later.
She frowned. “Away?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. I wanna get you away from here.”
“Spike—”
He tugged her to a halt and anchored her to his side. “After the Ascension, before college…don’t you want a break? A good, long break? I’ll take you wherever you wanna go. I’ll dress you in Queen Elizabeth’s gowns if that’s what you want. I’ll show you the Eiffel Tower or the Great bloody Wall or wherever you wanna go.” He paused, and she felt herself melt just a little more. “I’ll give you the world, Buffy. As long as you want it. I’ll lasso the bloody moon. Just…come away with me for a little while. Let me get you out of here and pamper you brilliantly that the gods will tremble with such envy that anyone, anywhere, could love as much as I love you.”
Dear freaking god. Buffy just stared at him, torn between bursting into tears and hysterical laughter—not because what he said was funny, but because the human body hadn’t evolved enough to express such emotions. He was always turning her world upside down in one way or another—whether by rushing out there into the thick of it or doing her in with a look.
Or a big romantic speech.
“I love you, too,” she whispered finally. “I just…I…”
He gave her such a brilliant smile it shook her to the core. “I know, sweetheart,” he replied softly. “Me, too.”
“You really want to—”
“Yes,” Spike said with a fervent nod, not skipping a beat. “Anywhere you wanna go for as long as you want. A week, two, the whole bloody summer. Whatever you want, wherever you want.”
“Spike—”
“Yes.” A softness overwhelmed his eyes. “I just wanna spoil my girl. Don’t we deserve it after the year we’ve had?”
There was definitely no debating that.
“All right,” she heard herself say. “After the Ascension…after this is over, let’s get out of here.”
“You mean it?”
“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t.” Buffy grinned. “Besides…all an-expense-paid trip anywhere with my hot boyfriend? Come on…the chances of me saying no being…”
“You’re not gonna ask me where I’ll get the money or anything?”
“Should I?”
Spike bristled and shook his head. “No. No. Just…surprises me, is all.”
“I trust you.” She neared to kiss his lips. “And I love you.”
His eyes darkened in a way that told her she’d be halfway to a hell of an orgasm if they were anywhere else. “You’ve told me,” he murmured.
“Yeah. And you’ve told me about a thousand and a half times. I have a lot of catching up to do.”
“You’ll never catch up, love,” he retorted with a barked laugh.
“I’m the Slayer. No challenge is too great.”
“My head start puts all others to shame. And since I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, you’re just gonna have to face it that it’s a lost bloody cause.”
“I’ll catch up when we’re in on our vacation,” she decided, entangling their fingers once more as they continued toward home. “I’ll stay up at night and just say it over and over again.”
“You do that and you won’t get much sleep. And you won’t make any headway.”
“I will catch up. But first, the Ascension.”
“The Ascension,” he agreed with a nod, tightening his grip on her.
“And…honestly? How about my plan?”
Spike quirked an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth tugged into a small smile. “Honestly,” he replied, “it’s as good a plan as any, I’d wager. And you can count on me being there beside you.”
“Well, technically, you’ll be outside.”
“Buff—”
“My job, remember? I can’t do this and worry about you, too.” A long sigh trembled through her. “Besides, other than Angel, you’ll be the strongest person on our side on the outside. I need you out there where it counts, okay?”
“Right. ‘Course, there is that pesky sunlight issue that—”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll figure something out.”
They came to a halt at the entrance that led to the basement of 1630 Revello Drive.
“Right, sweetheart.”
“Right,” she emphasized with a nod. “For now…I have a mother to kick out of town.”
*~*~*
Spike had never before appreciated how plans to save the world were crafted, outlined, and executed. Now, with only a few hours to spare until the Ascension, he stood alone in the library as the others fulfilled their tasks. Stood in the shadows and waited.
There would be an eclipse, Giles had said. That put him and Angel back in the game. Unfortunately, it also allowed for the Mayor to assemble a team of bloodsuckers of his own. However, trusting that Buffy’s plan was even remotely successful, such wouldn’t present too much of a problem.
After all, what were a few vamp cronies to Angelus and William the Bloody?
Everything else had gone just as smoothly, and that worried him. He and Buffy had not been able to spend much time with Joyce. After the woman found them in the kitchen, she had demanded explanations and left little room for answers. It had taken less than ten minutes to convince her that the safest, most helpful thing she could do was leave town.
Times like these, Spike prided the Slayer’s power of manipulation. Joyce was gone—heading to her mother’s until they contacted her. Persuading her had taken little more than reassuring her that, after nearly watching Buffy die the night before, Spike would kiss the sun before he let her get hurt.
That wasn’t to say that Mrs. Summers hadn’t voiced her reservations about the more recent developments. She was extremely apprehensive around Spike—more so than she had ever been. It hurt but he felt he deserved it. After all, were it not for him, Buffy would not have spent the night in the hospital. He had nearly gotten her only daughter killed.
Living that burden was enough for his own conscience. Asking Joyce to live with it and—moreover—to accept it was blatantly cruel and unusual. But he could do more, and he expected no less. There was no way he was leaving Buffy. Not now. Not ever.
Spike reached into the lapels of his duster for his ciggies. The others were out and about. Xander, thrilled at being at the heart of one of Buffy’s plans, had to assemble essentially a small army before showtime. Willow and Oz were helping and Giles was off doing god-knows-what. He had not seen or heard from Wesley since the night before, but the other Scoobies assured him that the younger Watcher was very much in on the game plan. He was just gun-shy about seeing the Slayer after their encounter.
At that, Spike had to laugh. The man was truly pathetic.
But he was one of them. For now, that was what mattered.
The plan rested on the hope that the Mayor would lose his marbles if he saw Faith’s dagger, covered in his surrogate daughter’s blood, in Buffy’s hands. It was a small trigger but Buffy was confident that it would work, and after witnessing Wilkins’s treatment of Faith at several unfortunate run-ins, Spike was inclined to agree.
If everyone played their part, the plan was nearly infallible, and that made him nervous. Buffy had been talking of the Ascension for what seemed like forever. They had been preparing for it their entire relationship. And now, all came down to a matter of a few minutes. A few minutes that would prove crucial in less than four hours.
And this was only the beginning. Even if he did manage to get Buffy away from the Hellmouth, even for a little while, there would be something waiting when they returned. Life with her would be too brief, and envisioning an eternity without her made him ache in ways he had never before fathomed. Forget Prague and the hell that had followed in finding a cure for Dru. Forget the public humiliation following Cecily’s rejection. Buffy was the end-game for him. Last night, sitting at her bedside, that much had been made abundantly clear.
For now, though, he had everything. And he would hold onto it as long as he could.
Forever, if he could.
But she didn’t have forever. Even if she survived every apocalypse for the next sixty years, she was going to die. That day would arrive in a flash, and he’d have to decide how to weather the pain of losing her.
He didn’t have to think about that now, though. Not now.
Easy to tell himself, at least.
Her scent reached his nostrils just seconds before he felt her behind him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing herself to his back.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said after dropping a kiss on the nape of his neck.
A pleasant shiver ran down his spine. Spike grinned, wondering how in the world she’d managed to sneak up on him. He was perched on the veranda near the bookstacks but should have heard her enter the library. Maybe he’d been thinking too hard. “I’ve been here. Just biding time till you start your heroics.”
“I was beginning to think you’d gone home.”
Home? The place where her blood still stained his sheets? Where he had nearly taken her life?
No. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back there ever again
“Things coming along all right?” he replied. “We’re running short on time, sweetheart.”
“I know. Will and I recruited everyone we could find. She and Oz have taken over in between getting the supplies we need.” Buffy swept another kiss across his skin. “They wanted some time alone, too.”
“Can imagine. They’ve only…God, what are you doing?”
Buffy didn’t reply, which was fine, because it was bloody obvious what she was doing, being that she was pulling at his belt. “Remember yesterday?” she asked before teasing his earlobe with her teeth. “Before…when I was in here, and you…”
Meaning when he’d nearly shagged her on one of the tables? Yeah, he remembered, though he felt he had aged years since then. So much had changed.
“We don’t have long till the Ascension,” he reminded her.
“I know.” Buffy released him abruptly and huffed. Then she moved so that she was directly in front of him. Spike sniffed a bit but kept his eyes glued to the text he had been thumbing through when she came in. That was until she reached for his chin and forced his gaze to level with hers.
“What’s wrong?”
He jerked a bit. “Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Like I’m buying that.”
He couldn’t help it; he smiled. “What are you doing here, pet? Shouldn’t you be out hunting recruits? We—”
“I told you, Will and Oz are taking care of it.” Buffy pursed her lips. “I just wanted some time with you before we had to…in case—”
“In case tonight’s it, right?”
She nodded.
“Thought we agreed it wasn’t.”
“It’s not. But yesterday, I learned not to take anything for granted.”
He said nothing to that, rather looked away, swallowing hard and trying not to burn from shame.
“Spike—”
“I’m fine, Buffy.”
“No. You’re not.” She forced his eyes to hers again, and he heard her breath catch in her throat at whatever it was she saw. “You’re not fine. But it’s okay now. See?” She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her face, then slid it down until he could feel the gentle hum of her heart beneath his fingers. “It’s okay now.”
He shook his head, alarmed when a choked sob crossed his lips. She had the power to drag out anything he wanted to keep buried. There was no hope at ever keeping anything from her.
“I almost lost you,” he whispered.
Buffy cupped his cheek and drew his mouth to hers. “I almost lost you, too,” she reminded him. “But I didn’t, and you didn’t lose me.”
“I almost—”
“You didn’t.” She smiled. “Why are you…I thought we were okay. We talked about this—”
Spike shook his head again. “It’s not…god, I…” He sniffed. “Yeah, love. You’re right. You didn’t leave me…but you’re going to.”
“What? I—”
“Maybe not now. Not tonight or tomorrow…maybe even years, but… Guess it just occurred to me that last night was just the warm-up act. Get to go through that again and again until someday it takes.”
A pause. “You always knew that.”
“Knowing and getting a preview are two different things. I live in the now, don’t focus much on the future.” Spike wiped at his eyes, feeling petty and small, but unable to hold anything in.
Buffy seemed to consider him for a long moment, her brow furrowed. Then her expression cleared and she shrugged. “Okay. We’ll work it out.”
“There’s nothing… Work it out? Buffy—”
“You love me, right?”
What the bloody hell was she on about? “Do I…? Sweetheart, you know I do. I—”
“And I love you. Despite what happens, there will be a way to work it out.” She favored him with one of this enigmatic Buffy smiles. “I’ve learned, over the past couple of years, that trying to plan things is just wasting time. And there’s a solution to every problem, even the impossible ones. We’ll work it out, Spike. Maybe not today, but we will.”
That was rubbish. He knew it was, but god, her confidence could convince a bloke of anything. “You think so much of the world?” he demanded. “With as much as you’ve seen?”
“I have to. I have to.” Buffy’s eyes fogged over. “Let’s just get through tonight. We get through tonight, and then we get out of Sunnydale for some well-earned QT, all right?”
Spike stared at her. There were times he felt his body couldn’t contain how much he loved her, that it was too much for one man or vampire to shoulder, and he’d just pop out of existence. But those times were typically accompanied by reminders of why the risk was worth it. This was one such time. “I love you,” he said heatedly. “Buffy…last night—”
“Was last night. We’re both here. It’s fine.”
Buffy claimed his mouth before he could offer another protest, and this time, he did not—could not—deny her. The taste of her had him drunk within seconds, easing the roar in his chest that had been at full volume since he’d awakened with her blood in his mouth. The softness of her lips against his and the feel of her in his arms quickly drove his senses into overdrive.
He had her against the wall the next minute, books forgotten as his hands wandered and explored. Her shoulders, her arms—her strong, powerful arms—then down to her waist and up again until he had a breast cradled against each palm. Spike growled into her mouth, tugging at her nipples and rolling his hips so she could feel how hard he was.
“Feel that?” he growled, one hand abandoning her breast to grip her ass and hold her as he rubbed against her. “You drive me outta my mind.”
“You too.” Buffy tugged at his jeans, the belt free now. “Every time.”
Then her mouth was on his again, and the world melted away. And he realized she was right. Nothing was ever certain, especially where they were concerned. All they had was the moment. And stolen ones, such as these, made it all the sweeter.
The end of the world, in that regard, didn’t seem so terribly far. He would travel it for her. He had to.
“Tell me again,” Spike whispered. “I need to hear it.” He skated his lips kisses across her chin, thrusting harder against her. “Tell me, Buffy. Please.”
Buffy pulled back with a throaty gasp, arching against him with some need of her own. Then her eyes found his and she graced him with a smile that could drive even the toughest bastard out there to tears. “I love you, Spike. I have for the longest time. I just…I was afraid.”
“Afraid?”
She nodded. “Like the universe would hear me and take it away. But it almost did anyway, in the end. It was stupid, but… That’s why.”
Spike stared at her a long moment, deep, shuddering breaths racketing his body. The little witch had said something to that effect—that Buffy was holding back because love scared the piss out of her. But until then, until that moment, he hadn’t been sure if he believed it. The Slayer was scared of nothing…except he knew that was rubbish. Bravery wasn’t the absence of fear—it was the defiance of it. Fuck knows he’d been out of his mind terrified when he’d realized he loved her, but still, things had been easier for him, even as hard as they were. He’d always been love’s bitch.
Spike kissed her again, hiking her legs around his waist and dropping a hand to caress her through her jeans. “How long have you loved me?”
“Since you didn’t go when I told you to. Since the second you walked into the mansion when they had me tied up.”
The same night he’d told her for the first time. Spike grinned against her lips. “Hid it well.”
“Just from you. Everyone else knew.”
“I shoulda too.” But he hadn’t—Angel clouded everything. He always had. Spike growled at the thought and was suddenly desperate to be inside of her. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one, because she was pulling at his jeans as he tugged at hers, getting in her way but unable to stop. But then she was in his arms again, skin on skin, her legs going around his waist once more. Where his jeans were bunched at the ankles, hers had been tossed somewhere down the aisle of books along with her shoes. The head of his cock skated along the damp crotch of her knickers and it suddenly seemed that eons had passed since he’d last been inside her.
“Now,” she whispered hoarsely, wrapping her small, lethal hand around his erection. “Now. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Now,” Spike agreed, fisting her panties and ripping them clear off her body. He hiked her a bit higher, sliding his dick along her wet, silky flesh until he was positioned at her entrance. “I have to feel you now. Have to be inside. Can’t wait, love. I’m sorry.”
“No. Not sorry. Need you now.”
“I love you, Buffy.”
She blinked open her emerald eyes and smiled at him. “I love you, too.”
Spike took her mouth again with a groan as he pushed inside her. Her pussy, warm and tight and all his, clamped around him, dragging him in deeper and clenching so nice he nearly went cross-eyed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, voice strained.
“What?”
“I’m not gonna be able to be gentle.”
And before she could reply, he pulled back and slammed into her so hard the bookcase behind him rattled. Buffy’s head flew back, her hands finding Spike’s shoulders and squeezing her encouragement. It had only been two days—two full days—since they had been together like this. Two days. And yet so much had happened.
Things had changed.
The pace was hard and brutal—flesh slapping, mouths warring, foundation-shaking. He was only aware of her, the way she felt every time his cock drove home, how those whimpers and moans she fed him tasted, the illicit cadence of their bodies coming together again and again as the air around them perfumed with the scent of sex. He wanted her to fuck his fear right out of him, and bless her, she tried. Her hips crashing upwards, hands wandering, lips pulling on his as he pounded into her again and again. Her breaths came hot and hard against his skin—he could feel her heartbeat as though it were his own, the rush of her pulse, healthy and strong, keeping the unstoppable machine that was Buffy Summers alive and warm and his. It was so good and not enough. He doubted it ever would be.
“Spike,” Buffy gasped, and fuck he loved it when she said his name like this, with her cunt around him, so he decided to reward her with a particularly sharp thrust. “Spike!” she said again. “Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh—”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped into her ear. “My dirty little Slayer. Give it all to me. All of it. Don’t you…dare…hold back.” His thrusts grew more frantic still, as though part of him wanted to punish her for making him worry so much. For making him fear the future. But she did not call him on it, rather answered with equal demand, with hip rolls and thrusts that he’d taught her—and he loved that. Loved that she was fucking him the way he’d helped her learn, answering his need without question and feeding him back her own. Loved that she fucked the way she fought, with every bloody thing she had.
He loved her in ways that would make angels weep.
And then, yes, her pussy tightened and her body tensed, and she went wild in his arms, spasming hard around his cock, pulling harder, harder, until he had no choice but to follow. Spike threw back his head and roared, his fangs bursting through his gums without his permission, startling him so much he felt his balance tip. Then they were on the floor together, Buffy lying across him, panting hard but her body soft and pliant.
It was entirely possible, he mused, that they might one day shag themselves to death. Spare him the worry about the future—just go out with a bloody bang.
He could think of worse fates.
*~*~*
Buffy’s brain was fuzzy. Sex overload. It did that sometimes. Well, a lot of the time with Spike. Entered a space that was neither sleep nor awake, where the ground would move and, while she’d be distantly aware, she wouldn’t clue back in until everything had a chance to reboot.
When she forced herself to reengage with the real world, she found she was on the ground, straddling Spike and being treated to a series of soft, oh-so-tasty kisses. He was still within her, partially hard and growing more so. It didn’t surprise her. Nothing with him ever did.
He was trembling, too, but for an entirely different reason.
“Sweetheart?” he asked when he pulled away, sounding worried.
“Mmmm…”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He lifted his hands to her hips. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
Buffy smirked. Dork. “That was not an ouchie sound I just made.”
He didn’t look convinced, studying the place where he’d gripped her just a few moments earlier. “There’s gonna be a bruise. God, I held you too hard. I was—”
“You were fine.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve…you were just in the hospital. Dunno what I was thinking.”
Buffy pursed her lips and, taking full advantage of their position, clenched her vaginal muscles around his cock, which went from semi to fully erect in a blink. His gaze fogged over and he released a soft groan, thrusting up on what had to be instinct.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she said again. Spike’s eyes fell closed as she began moving over him in languid strokes. “Not even…god…last night. You didn’t hurt me.” She threw her head flew back and heard him gasp in turn. “It’s okay.”
He gripped her hips again, his hold more cautious than usual. “Buffy…”
“It’s okay.”
He released a long, trembling sigh, hips moving in time with hers. He made no effort to claim control, however, seemingly content to let her set the pace.
“You feel so good,” she whispered, earning a long moan.
“You, too. Always.” Spike exhaled, dragging his hands upward to cup her breasts once more. “God, I don’t deserve you.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
He lifted himself off the floor to tongue her nipples through her shirt. “Then I’ll try to earn it. Every…sodding…day.”
Buffy gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him to her. She began moving faster, need burning away the calm. After yesterday, she needed this too. The image of him in that bed, withering away and waiting for death, would take a long time to banish. Feeling him inside her, when she’d been uncertain if he’d even be here today, was the best reassurance a girl could ask for.
From here, they could only move forward—but not with last night haunting every step.
She dropped her mouth to his throat and lapped at his skin, not realizing, until she found Drusilla’s mark, that she’d been looking for it. She felt him shudder, then buck in earnest when she teased it with her teeth.
“Fuck, Slayer!”
“Shhhh…”
This piece of his skin wasn’t hers. She wanted to change that.
Spike’s hands fell again to her hips, anchoring her to him as he pistoned in and out of her. “Christ Almighty…”
“I love you.”
And that was it. She sank her blunt teeth into the wound and grasped his shoulders as he shuddered and spilled himself inside her. He bucked and trembled, holding onto her like he was afraid she’d float away otherwise.
“Oh, Buffy…” Spike blinked hard, gazing at her with slightly drugged eyes. Then he frowned, apparently realizing she’d not followed him over, and slipped a hand to where they were joined to tap her clit.
And that was all it took. That, combined with the way he’d lost control—something he rarely did. Spike was of the philosophy that ladies should always come first, so the knowledge that she’d gotten him there first was in itself a powerful aphrodisiac. Buffy bit her lower lip, clenched around him—and yeah, that had him hard again—and came.
Buffy lay against him for several long minutes, trying to collect her thoughts. It was important that understood this—understood that last night, when he’d slid his fangs into her throat, he hadn’t scared her. That she’d liked it, mortal peril aside. That it was something she wanted.
“Just so you know,” she whispered, “it was like that for me too. Last night, when you bit me. That’s what I felt.”
Spike went still. “What?”
“You don’t hurt me. You never do.” A small smile tickled her lips and she leaned back. “Last night…when you bit me…it felt good. I thought it would hurt, but it didn’t. It felt really, really good.”
“But—”
“No buts. I wouldn’t lie to you.” She looked to the place where she’d bitten him. “I’d never felt anything like it. And…it felt good.”
A few seconds ticked by before his face lit up with the smile she had wanted to see for what seemed like an eternity. That cocky sense of self that she’d fallen in love with.
“There’s more where that came from, baby,” he assured her. “If that’s what you want.”
Buffy smiled and kissed his cheek. “Trust me.”
“Good. So let’s try this again. Maybe we can do it right.”
“Try wha—”
Talking was futile. Spike had her on her back the next minute and was moving again in slow, sensual strokes. “This,” he said. “Not too rough, and I won’t spoil the party by leaving early.”
“I like you…” Buffy’s eyes fell shut, a wrangled gasp escaping her throat. “Rough.”
“You just got out of the hospital.”
She opened her eyes and met the feral need behind his own. Demon lovers and their super endurance. “Slayer, remember?”
Spike grinned wickedly. “Oh yeah,” he agreed, thrusts gaining momentum. “I definitely remember.”
Buffy clutched at his forearms, ignoring the voice that whispered that once had been lucky, twice was pushing it, but three times was downright reckless, Spike had a way of pumping her good sense right out of her.
“Oh my GOD! What the hell are you guys doing?”
Yeah, if anything could kill the mood, it was Cordelia freaking Chase screaming at the top of her lungs.
Buffy went rigid, digging her nails into Spike’s forearms.
But Spike didn’t slow down a bit. If anything, he started fucking her harder. “What’s it look like? Bugger off!”
“Spike!” Buffy hissed.
“Oh dear Lord.”
“You too, four eyes,” Spike said, rolling his hips. “Unless you wanna pay…for…sodding…tickets.”
“We were…just…ummm…going to pack up books.” That was Wesley, sure enough. “We’ll—uhh—be back later.”
“God, Buffy.” Cordelia again, evidently unhampered by the awkwardness of the situation. “Exhibitionist, much?”
“Much,” Spike answered with a growl of warning.
Wesley was not nearly as composed. “We’re leaving, now.”
There was a scuffle and a hasty retreat. It was only when the doors swung shut that Spike dropped his gaze back to her, that smirk in place. As if challenging her to berate him for his bad behavior.
When she didn’t, the smirk melted into a smile, and he leaned forward to nuzzle her throat. “How long till Graduation?”
“A while,” she responded. “But Spike—”
It was futile trying to speak. He had once again unveiled his mastery and rendered words completely useless.
Not that she minded. No. Not in the least.
*~*~*
Fire bad. Tree pretty.
It was almost difficult to believe that they had arrived at an end.
The sky was still dark, though Buffy didn’t know if that was due to the eclipse or if night had taken over. In retrospect, it didn’t matter. She had avoided Giles when he’d started talking about predestination, though not without noticing the smirk on Spike’s face.
No. There would be no more arguing philosophy with him. At least not tonight.
For now, she and her friends had congregated to look at the place that had been her academic home of torture and maim for three years—or rather—what was left of it. Wesley was somewhere whimpering in the distance, having fallen three seconds into battle. Angel had lingered to give her a meaningful look of farewell before fading off into the shadows.
It didn’t feel like goodbye. Or perhaps it was too late for that. In many ways, goodbye for them had happened a long time ago.
“Well,” Cordelia said, approaching as she wiped the ash off her arm. “That’s the most fun you can have without having fun.”
Buffy blushed and looked down, still not having gotten over what happened that afternoon. She looked up only when she felt Spike’s eyes on her, her flush deepening when he winked.
“How about the part where we kicked some demon ass?” Willow suggested a little over-zealously. “I didn’t hate that.”
“Hear, hear!” Xander agreed.
Buffy smiled, exhausted in ways she hadn’t known were possible. “So…you guys wanna take off? I think we’ve done pretty much all we can.”
Willow caught her gaze. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Buffy replied, relaxing as her vampire wrapped an arm around her shoulder, dragging her into him. A small happy noise escaped her lips when he kissed her forehead. “I could use a little sleep, though.”
“Sleep being the one thing we can guarantee you won’t be doing tonight,” Cordelia noted, completely ignoring Spike’s glare of warning.
“Not the picture I needed, Cordy,” Xander said.
“Trust me. It could be worse.”
Buffy tensed again but decided ultimately that she was too tired to be embarrassed. Graduation was over, the day was won. It was time to move on.
“Guys,” Oz said, “let’s take a moment to deal with this. We survived.”
“It was a hell of a battle.”
“Not the battle—high school.”
A poignant observation. Yet another thing that she was too tired to deal with. Thus instead, as her friends took their moment, she turned to Spike and kissed his cheek. “So…” she said slowly. “What were you saying about a vacation?”
He smiled his secret, just-for-her smile, his eyes dancing.
“Ready when you are, sweets.”