Chapter Twelve
Xander sat alone in his dark hotel room, a bottle of whiskey held loosely in his hand. His face hurt, his abdomen was sore. He could only open one eye without pain, and he hadn’t eaten anything since before his ill planned attack on Spike. He was miserable, hurt, and well on his way to being drunk. Jealousy was working its will through him, making him crazy. He ran a hand through his dark hair, countering the pain that caused by taking another swig from the bottle. Grimacing as the bitter liquid poured down his throat, he fought back the tears that stung his eyes.
He had been so sure that finding Buffy had been the right thing to do. He wanted to apologize for the things he had said to her. She’d had enough to deal with, without him being such a jerk. But, whenever it came to the vampires that she had let into her life, he got a chronic case of foot in mouth disease. Angel, well, at least he’d had a soul. Didn’t make him any less undead, but it gave him a conscience. Then, there was Spike. One of the most vicious vampires of the last century, who didn’t have the benefit of a soul. Who she also had a child with. And now, she wouldn’t see Xander, but she was playing family with the evil undead.
Willow. . .Willow was pissed at him. He begrudgingly allowed that she had a reason. She had been his friend forever, and now he was doing a good job of fucking it up. He hadn’t meant to make her attraction to Mark seem sordid, but he was upset. No excuse, but true. She had tried to talk to him this morning, but he had refused to open the door, still angry with her for her defense of the vampire, and her lack of defense of him with Mark and Spike.
The more Xander thought about it, the more he got pissed. When exactly had he become the bad guy? When did the tables turn between him and Spike?
Sighing, Xander knew when. The second he had lied about the spell. Nobody had forgiven him for that little stunt. Not Joyce, not Willow, not Giles. He had betrayed her trust, all because of how much he hated Angel. And he did hate the souled flip-side of Angelus, as much as Angelus himself. For tempting Buffy, making her forget her calling as far as he was concerned. Now that forgetfulness extended to his childe.
Tilting the bottle back once more, he thought he should do something to make her see that Spike was still as evil as ever. He’d never believe the vampire could change. He didn’t have a soul, a conscience. As far as Xander was concerned, there was nothing redeemable about him. Why should HE get the girl, and the kid?
No, something had to be done. And soon.
~*~*~
Anne smiled as she opened the door, seeing Spike on the other side. But, even through her smile, he could see a bit of annoyance.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, coming in and closing the door.
“Me and Willow were going to go out for a girl’s night out, but Molly can’t come over. Almost as soon as you got me fired,” she said with a glare. He had the decency to look sheepish. “She got another job.”
“I’ll stay with him,” he said, a flash of hurt crossing his face that she hadn’t thought to ask him. Especially after the night before. Somewhere in the middle of the second movie, Matt had fallen asleep across his parent’s laps. Spike had gathered him up, tucking him into bed, and just staring at him for a few minutes. When Anne had come looking for him, she had stood watching him watch his son, a look of pure happiness on her face. Then, after Willow had left, they had spent quite a bit of time snogging on the couch like teenagers. He had thought that she trusted him.
“Are you sure?” As soon as the words fell from her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. A scowl twisted his features, and his eyes turned icy.
“Don’t be daft,” was all he would allow himself to say. Anything more would result in a fight of apocalyptic proportions.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stepping closer to him. He jerked a little when she touched his arm. Sighing, she raised her hand to cup his cheek. “I’m still getting used to this whole other parent around thing. I’m sorry I didn’t think of you first.” His face softened as he looked down at her, her eyes pleading with him to understand.
“Alright, luv.” Her mouth bloomed into a smile, and he leaned down to kiss it. Her thumb stroked his cheek as his lips sipped on hers. Delicious tremors raced down her spine and she struggled to remember WHY they were waiting.
“Daddy!” a tiny voice squealed, causing them to groan with still unfulfilled desire.
“Hello, bit. Feeling up to a night with your dad?” Spike asked, running a hand over Matt’s head.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Mum’s going out for a while, so it’s just us boys.”
“Okay. Can we make pawcorn?” Matt asked, blue eyes hopeful. Spike glanced at Anne before answering. She gave a slight nod.
“Sure.”
“Yay!” Matt threw his arms around Spike’s leg in a quick hug then tore off down the hall. “Be back!” he cried. Anne and Spike watched him go with amused smiles.
“Don’t let him try to get anything over on you. He always does with Mark.” She was still looking down the hall, and missed his body go ridged at the mention of Mark’s involvement in his son’s life. By the time she turned to him, he had relaxed.
“We’ll be fine,” he assured, reaching out to pull her to him. “Hurry back,” he whispered, leaning in to feast from her mouth again. “We have unfinished business.”
“Spike,” she breathed between sweeps of his mouth.
“Sh, kitten. Don’t think. Just feel,” Spike drawled. “You can feel how right this is.” He closed his mouth fully over hers, his tongue sliding in to posses hers. She clutched desperately at his leather clad shoulders, her senses on overload. When he pulled back, he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, releasing her when Matt barrelled back into the room. The smell of her arousal wafted to him, and a sensual smile curled his lip. “Have a good time, pet.”
“Yeah, bye Mommy,” Matt said, smiling up at her. Anne stared blankly at them for a minute. Then, she mentally shook herself back to reality.
“Geez, here’s your hat, what’s your hurry, huh?” she said with a laugh. “Alright, I shouldn’t be late. Bedtime’s nine tonight, young man,” she said firmly. He scowled in perfect imitation of Spike. She bit back a laugh and leaned down to kiss him. “Be good for Daddy,” she whispered. “He’s new at this.” He giggled, and hugged her, placing a wet kiss on her cheek.
“Okay, Mommy.” She stood and looked at Spike, kissing him goodbye as well.
“You be good, too.”
“Oh, I’ll be very good,” he purred, his meaning not lost on her. She felt her skin heat up, and the fresh wave of desire washed over her.
“Jerk,” she muttered when he grinned. “Be back in awhile,” she said, turning to leave, cursing the sexy vampire.
“So, what first?” Spike asked when the door closed behind her.
“Pawcorn, pawcorn!” Matt cried, jumping up and down.
“Right, then, popcorn it is. Why don’t you come show your dad where everything is.” Matt’s eyes brightened at the opportunity to help.
“Okay, C’mon.” He dashed into the kitchen, a chuckling Spike following him after he shook off his duster.
~*~*~
Mark’s boots echoed in the quiet night as he climbed the steps to Anne’s house. He knew she wasn’t home, he had called Willow earlier, and learned that the two women were going out for a night on the town. He decided to use the opportunity to have a little chit chat with Spike. He didn’t feel any jealousy over the re-emergence of the vampire. Quite, the contrary, he was happy that Anne was getting her family like she had always wanted. And, Willow was enough to distract him from any romantic feelings he had still been harboring for the tiny woman.
The thought of the redhead brought a smile to his face, and he wished again that they could have seen each other tonight. She was amazing. Smart and funny, with the cutest habit of blushing when she got flustered. She was powerful, yet still shy. He wanted her like he had never wanted another woman, even Anne.
Shaking off the thoughts of the tiny witch, he raised his hand to knock, only to drop it in surprise when the door swung open, revealing a very suspicious Spike.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked without preamble.
“Just stopped by,” Mark answered, tilting his head to the side. The two men sized each other up, until Matt took notice of his Uncle’s presence. Looking freshly bathed and happy, he looked up at the Indian with wide, blue eyes.
“Unca Mark. Mommy went out. Daddy stayin’ wif me,” Matt exclaimed, proudly. Mark smiled down at the boy, holding his arms out. Matt immediately launched into them. Out of the corner of his eye, the brunette saw Spike stiffen at the way his son acted towards him. “I know Mommy went out. I came to talk to your father.” Spike’s eyes narrowed into slits, and he stepped away from the door to let Mark and his son back into the house. Mark set Matt back onto his feet, and ran a hand over his damp curls.
“Daddy says it’s time for bed,” Matt said with a pout, slipping his eyes between his father and uncle, thinking that now he had an ally.
“Well, then, you should listen.” Despite himself, Spike’s lips quirked. Matt had obviously been expecting Mark to help him out, and by his crestfallen expression, had been foiled.
“Come on, poppet. Your Mum said nine, it’s already nine thirty. I’m risking being dusted as we speak,” Spike said, scooping Matt off his feet.
“She won’t dus’ you, Daddy.”
“And why not?”
“Cause she likes you too much.” Spike grinned at the basic logic of his child.
“Well, that’s good. Say goodnight to Mark.”
“G’night, Unca Mark.” Matt said with a wave as Spike started carrying him down the hall.
“Make yourself at home.” You already have for the last four years, he added bitterly to himself. Mark took a deep breath and went into the kitchen to look for the beer Anne usually kept for him. When Spike returned a few minutes later, Mark was sitting on the couch, cigarette smoldering in the hand tapping against his knee, beer sitting on the coffee table in front of him. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and he looked thoroughly at ease in Anne’s home. Ignoring him for the moment, Spike went into he kitchen and got his own beer, then went back and flopped into the easy chair, reaching into the pocket of his red shirt for his own cigarettes. They both sat, silently smoking, contemplating the other man in the room.
“You hurt her,” Mark finally said, leaning forward to stab out his smoke. Spike studied the tip of his, then turned his blue eyed gaze to the almost black one of Mark.
“I know,” he replied, not feeling the need to go further into it.
“She didn’t think you were going to come back, no matter what she told Matt. I could see it, in her eyes. You left her,” Mark persisted, his tone accusatory.
“Didn’t think I had a choice. Me vampire, her Slayer. S’not exactly destined for happiness. Not to mention we had both just watched the one’s we loved get sucked into Hell. Not a good thing to base a relationship on,” Spike shot back, taking a long swallow of his beer. “Didn’t know I was missin’ her until I found myself back in Sunnydale,” he said, almost to himself. “Then, it was too late. She was already gone.”
“Don’t hurt her again.” Mark’s voice wasn’t threatening, it wasn’t pitched anyway that could have been assumed as such. It just held a thread of promise of what might happen if Spike did just that. The scarred eyebrow shot up, the crystal blue eyes flashed yellow with a brief shot of anger. Mark just returned his stare, calmly, elbows resting against his knees.
“I don’t plan to. But that’s between Buffy and me,” Spike growled, leaning forward himself to put out the forgotten cigarette.
“She’s been my business for a little over four years now. I won’t see her hurt. Or Matt.” Spike surged to his feet, game face forward. The low warning growl sounding in his chest reverberated around the room.
“They are mine!,” he snarled, somehow remembering to keep his voice low so as not to disturb Matt. Mark also rose to his feet, towering over the blonde vamp. They were similar in build, their height the only difference.
“I’m not trying to take your claim on them. I’m just letting you know, that I don’t care WHO you are, I don’t care WHAT you are. You hurt them, in ANY way, and you will have to deal with me.” His voice was low and dangerous, his eyes blazing. Spike almost smirked, ready to remind him that no matter how Mark made his living, he wasn’t some redneck cowpoke that couldn’t handle his liquor. But, something about the younger man’s character made him pause. These weren’t words spoken out of prejudice or hate. They were spoken out of love for the woman and the child. Spike suddenly found himself very glad that Buffy and Matt had this man beside them for so long. Sighing heavily, he shook off the demon visage, as well as the jealousy he had been carrying around.
“Fair enough,” he acquiesced, settling back down in the chair. Mark blinked, surprised that he had backed down so quickly, knowing that something had just changed between them, but not sure what. He sat down himself, grabbing the bottle he had placed on the coffee table and taking a drink. “Wanna watch some telly?” Spike asked, grabbing the remote.
“Sure.” And with that, they settled back to watch some movie full of car chases and explosions, waiting for their women to come home.
~*~*~
About an hour later, Anne stumbled through the door, giggling at like a mad woman. It only got worse when she looked up to see the slightly shocked eyes of the men. She sat down hard in the still open doorway, her laughter raising in volume.
“Sh, pet, You’ll wake up bit,” Spike admonished. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her giggles reduced to huffs.
“You had better have taken a cab home,” Mark warned lightly, getting up to leave. “I assume Willow’s not much better.” Tears of mirth ran down Anne’s cheeks as she shook her head. He shook his head and made a mental note to call the redhead bright and early tomorrow. With a wicked grin, and a half salute to Spike he stepped over Anne and left.
“Bye Mark,” she said in a loud whisper, nearly falling over as she leaned out the door. Spike walked over to her, an amused smirk on his face.
“Alright, pet. I think it’s time for beddy bye,” he crooned, pulling her to her unsteady feet and closing the door.
“Ooh, what a good idea. You naughty vampire you,” she slurred, wrapping her arms sloppily around his neck. In search of a quieter way to get her to her room, he swung her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. The scent of her arousal hit him, and he had to bite back a groan. “I’ve been thinking about you aaaallll night,” she mumbled, as her drunk, yet nimble fingers went to work on the shirt.
“Pet, let’s not do this now,” he said, trying to hurry down the short hall to the other bedroom. He nearly stumbled when he felt her hot, wet mouth latch onto his nipple. “Jesus,” he hissed, the feel of her rough tongue on his skin having the reaction she was seeking. Her nails trailed lightly over the other one, causing him, the Big Bad, to whimper. He pushed the door to her room open, and kicked it closed, thankful it didn’t slam when it shut. “Buffy, stop,” he ground out.
“Why? Don’t you want me?,” she asked, petulantly. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout, and she scowled at him.
“That’s not the point, kitten. You’re drunk.” He dumped her on the bed, not prepared for how quick she could move in her inebriated state. Before he knew it, he was pinned on the bed, a very warm, very willing Slayer straddling his hips and nibbling along his jawline. He groaned, deep in his throat at her actions, and the feel of her heat pressed against his erection.
“I might be drunk, but I know what I want,” she told him in a sing-song voice. The vibrations of her lips against his skin nearly had him popping right then. She looked up at him, pout firmly in place. “I’m tired of waiting,” she sounded so much like Matt then, he nearly laughed out loud. But, when her hand shimmied between their bodies, and cupped him through the denim, all thoughts of laughing were erased. His hands gripped her hips, nearly bruising them.
“Oh, God, Buffy,” he moaned. She gave him a feral smile, and ground her hips against her hand, caressing them both at the same time. Her jean skirt had ridden up, exposing the soft expanse of her thighs. Her heat was pressed tight against her hand, her clit throbbing with the contact.
“Mmmm,” she purred, sliding that hand over them both. “I want you to fuck me Spike.” His eyes widened at the bluntness of her words, and the feel of what she was doing to both of them with her tiny hand. “I want to feel you, so deep inside of me.” She practically came just saying it, the dazed look of drunkenness quickly replaced by the haze of desire. “I want your hands on me, your mouth, your tongue. Every part of you.” Her mouth had wandered back to his jaw, nipping and licking her way to his throat. Spike lay helpless beneath her, his body humming with want. All thought of putting her off fled when she bit hard on his throat. His growl made her shiver with anticipation, knowing she had him.
Suddenly, she found herself flipped and pinned beneath him, the swift action causing her vision to swim. She giggled at the sensation, only to have it change to a gasp when his mouth crashed over hers. His tongue pushed in to claim her, as his hips surged forward to grind his hard shaft into her hot center. Teeth, lips and tongue battled, vying for dominance in a battle neither wanted to win. She wrapped her legs around his lean waist, pressing him closer, her hands sliding over his back and shoulders, finally settling to fist in his hair. Spike’s hands pulled her white, button down tank top out of the band of her skirt, his cool fingers gliding beneath to tease her skin. He pulled his mouth away from hers, to return the favor of grazing her jaw with his teeth. She writhed beneath him, wanting to feel him, not the clothes. Her fingers plucked uselessly against the smooth material of his shirt, urging him to take it off. He pulled away long enough to do just that, then reached down to unbutton hers. His mouth began to water when he saw her unbound breasts, and he lowered his head to capture one pert tip in his cool mouth.
“Oh, yeessss,” she breathed, hooking her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, forcing him harder against her. She arched her back, begging him to feast. He sucked hard on her nipple, and she squealed in delight. His hands slid under her skirt, ripping her excuse for underwear away. The only thing between them now was his jeans, and she reached between them once more to fumble with the button fly.
He trailed his tongue across the valley of her breasts, to give equal attention to the other soft mound, brushing her probing fingers away from his jeans, so he could do it himself. When she felt the tip brush against her opening, she whimpered, hips pushing up to invite him in. She felt like she would explode any moment, if he didn’t quit playing around and get inside of her. When he still hesitated, his thoughts seemingly fixated on her breasts, she whispered hoarsely in his ear.
“Spike, please, now. It’s been so long. I need you.” He pulled up to look at her, the midnight of his eyes burning her. She felt his body trembling under her hands, realizing how close to losing control he was. Then, inch by agonizing inch, he pushed into her, pausing so they could both adjust. She was practically panting with how good it felt to have his icy shaft stretching her, filling her. Her eyes rolled back and mewling noises mixed with the sound of her breathing.
Spike watched her writhe and pant beneath him, the feel of her heat enveloping him, burning him, making him shake even harder. He’d dreamed of her for so long, had wanted her for so long. And here she was, every ounce of his passion being returned. When he was fully buried, he paused, trying desperately to control himself. But, Anne wouldn’t have it. Almost violently, she thrust up, and squeezed he inner muscles, starting to milk him whether he was ready or not. Giving in to her urging, he pulled back until he was almost out of her, then thrust back in hard. Her groan of pleasure spurred him on, and he gripped her butt, holding her up so he could push deeper, harder. Each thrust brought his pelvic bone in contact with her clit, sending electric shocks coursing over her and making her throb. “So fucking hot,” he hissed, speeding his already frenzied movements to match hers. She returned every thrust with abandon, wanting the release that hovered just out of reach. Spike buried his face in her throat, knowing he was close, but she wasn’t. With a sound between a curse and a roar, he came, shuddering at the intensity. Her hips continued to pump, still seeking her own oblivion. As the last tremor passed through his body, he lifted his head.
“Sorry, pet. It’s just been too long,” he whispered, claiming her mouth once more. Wanting to give her pleasure, he pulled out of her, and pulled his mouth away from hers, skimming it down her sweat slicked body with his mouth, until he reached her dripping sex. She surged off the bed at the first swipe of his tongue across her sizzling heat, their combined tastes causing his cock to surge back to life. Her fingers dove into his hair, pressing him closer as he sipped from her, and she ground her hips against his face. He greedily drank all she had to offer, wanting more. Sliding his tongue up her slit, he curled it around her clit, using stiff strokes to make her cry out. Harder and faster he did this, holding her to him as she exploded in his mouth. She was practically sobbing when her orgasm crashed over her, and she pressed his face tightly against her, her body shaking with aftershocks.
Pulling her hands away from his head, he moved over her again, sliding into her effortlessly. They rocked together in unison, hands fisting together as their mouths attacked each other once more. Harder, faster they moved, their cries of ecstasy lost in the kiss. Anne arched against him as she came again, every muscle stretched and tense, her core tightening around him. Once, twice, three times he slammed into her, the final time he pushed as far as could, his seed splashing through her inner walls to her womb. Pulling away from her mouth, he buried his face in her hair, and panted heavily against her throat. Her fingers skimmed lightly over his back. A contented sigh slipping from her lips.
“I’m glad you’re not hard to convince,” she said, giggling. He nipped lightly at her throat, causing her to giggle louder.
“Yeah, well, you practically raped me,” he teased. She snorted in response.
“Can’t rape the willing,” she told him. He chuckled at that, stopping when he noticed the evil gleam in her eye.
“What are you about, kitten?” With a snicker, she switched their positions, his once against hard shaft buried deep. He gripped her hips to steady her, and he looked up at the goddess rising above him.
“I wanna play cowgirl,” she said with a silly grin, rocking her hips experimentally, causing them both to moan. This new position thrust him even deeper and she loved it. Running her hands over her own breasts, she did it again, delighting in the growl he let loose.
“Cor, Buffy. Are you trying to kill me?” He gasped, surging up to meet her.
“You’re already dead,” she said saucily. Then, she began to ride him in earnest. As they flew over the edge again, they fastened their mouths together, instinctively remembering the small child sleeping just across the hall. When the tremors subsided, Spike grabbed the edge of the quilt, and threw it over their still joined forms, and ran his hands lovingly over her back, smiling when he heard her breathing deepen.
“Goodnight, kitten,” he purred, brushing a kiss across her temple. A part of him knew he should get up and close the curtains, so she didn’t wake up next to a pile of dust, but he couldn’t seem to convince himself to move. Praying to whatever deity looked out for creatures like him, he clutched his precious bundle closer, and followed her into sleep.