Chapter Seven
Spikes’ hand fisted against the wall of the shower as his lean frame shuddered in climax. He opened his eyes to watch the evidence of his stupidity swirl down the drain with the water. He knew he could have sated the fire raging through him with the willing body of the Slayer. Her response to him had shattered his well-honed control, and he had taken it farther than he wanted to. It was a miracle that he had been able to stop just at satisfying her. Then she had curled up next to him, falling asleep trustingly in his arms. He found himself caught between wanting to wake her up and teach her all the pleasures that two people could derive from other, and throttling her for being so careless in the presence of a killer such as him. Didn’t matter that he suggested it, but she should be more careful.
With a disgusted sigh, he grabbed the soap and ruthlessly scrubbed his body. He realized that he was in serious danger of falling over the edge with this girl. He felt things around her that he had denied himself for almost a century. He had no right to be thinking about . . . no. He wouldn’t. She deserved more than a broken down man caught between two worlds that didn’t know where he belonged anymore.
Dropping the soap back into its holder, he ducked his head under the spray and let the warm water rinse the suds away. He wished his doubts and self loathing would rinse away as easy. He usually didn’t worry himself overmuch with the things he had done. Nothing a little alcohol or a spot of violence couldn’t cure. However, when Buffy had said that she liked him, he’d nearly turned into that lovesick poet that Angel believed him to be. Felt his heart start to twist and the words “I love you” sprang to the tip of his tongue. So, to keep himself from uttering that damning phrase, he had done the only thing he could think of. He’d kissed her. Once his lips had touched hers, however, he realized his mistake. The feel of her, the taste of her would stay with him until he and this world turned to dust. Her innocent responses to his touch inflamed him more than any woman he had ever taken to bed.
*Bloody poof. Take care of Angel then leave this soddin town behind. She loves him anyway. * He scowled as the last part of his thought snaked through his mind. Killing Angel would cause her pain. That was clear. No matter how much she hated Angelus, he saw the look on her face when he was mentioned. Could see that she was remembering the way he was before he lost his soul. With a groan, he beat his forehead against the white tile of the stall. He never should have come here. His life had been tilted on its axis since he drove over that damn ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign.
He had to decide soon what to do, before Angel got hold of the Slayer again. Or before Dru convinced the ponce to come looking for him. With a sharp twist, he turned the water off and jerked the curtain back. Snapping the towel from its place on the bar, he began to dry himself off. His vampiric hearing picked up movement in the next room.
*Sleeping beauty awakens. * he thought, shoving his legs into his jeans. He pulled on a blue button down, leaving it open. Raking a hand through his platinum locks, he prepared himself to face her.
“‘Allo pet.” He said, plastering a cocky smile in his face. She was peeking out the window, careful to avoid the rays of the setting sun.
“Hey.” She replied quietly. “The suns almost down.”
“I’ll drive you home.” He offered, willing himself not to respond to the radiant smile that flashed across her features.
“Thanks.” She wondered silently about his cool attitude toward her. He wasn’t being rude, or condescending, but it wasn’t necessarily the reaction she had expected. She had been nervous when she had woken up and he wasn’t there. The night with Angel was still fresh in her mind. She supposed she should be glad that Spike wasn’t trying to rip her throat out. She watched him walk restlessly over to the night stand and grab his cigarettes. His movements were jerky as he pulled one out and lit it. He glanced over at her as he expelled a plume of smoke into the air.
“Listen, pet. Be careful, all right? Angel’s gunning for you.” He averted his gaze, making Buffy realize he was more nervous than she was. The thought made her heart swell.
“I will. What are you going to do? About Angel, I mean.” He took another drag before answering her.
“What I have to.” He watched sadness cross her face, followed by acceptance. She nodded once, turning away to hide the tears in her eyes. “Buffy.” She faced him again, at the sound of her name falling softly from her lips.
“Yeah?”
“I just want you to know,” he paused, running a hand through his hair. “I just want you to know that it was an honor to know you.”
“You make it sound like I won’t ever see you again.” She said with a half smile. The longer she looked at his face, the more she knew that she wouldn’t. Her brows drew together in confusion, a stab of pain piercing her heart.
“Look, pet. I’m not somebody you need to know. You’re going to have enough problems, trying to figure out who you are now, without having me around to muck things up.” He told her, cursing himself for the hurt he saw in her eyes. How could they have worked themselves so firmly into each other in only a matter of a few hours?
“Don’t I have any say?” She hated that her voice was trembling. Hated him for making it tremble.
“No.” The word was sharp, with a thin edge of misery. *Good* she thought, at least he wouldn’t walk away unscathed.
“Well, it was an honor to know you, too.” She whispered, turning back to the window. He studied the rigid set of her shoulders, hating himself immensely. “The sun’s down. We better go.” She said, barely sparing a glance in his direction as she twisted the knob and walked out the door.
Crushing out his cigarette, he shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his duster. Slipping it on, he followed her out into the early evening.
“Have you found him yet?” Angel asked the cowering minion in front of him. The red haired
vampire stared at his sire’s mate, his head shaking affirmative.
“He’s staying at the hotel at the edge of town.”
“Great. Hear that Dru? We found our wayward childe.” Angel slapped his hands together, a grin spreading across his handsome face. Now that Spike had been found, they could bring him home, and Angel could get on with finding Buffy. He looked over to where Druscilla sat on the floor, holding her precious doll against her bosom. She was rocking slowly, shaking her head as if denying the images that passed through her brain at random. When her anguished moans began once more, Angel found his patience with her snap. He rose from his seat striding to her with long steps. He tangled his fingers in the long, curly mass of her hair, dragging her from the floor with little delicacy, a vicious growl emanating from his chest. Once his gold eyes clashed with hers, however, he could tell that she wasn’t focused on him.
“Our Spike is lost to us.” She wailed, tears streaming down her face. “That nasty Slayer has worked her way inside, poisoning who he is.” Angel let his demon mask slide away, as he tried to decipher her meaning.
“What are you talking about, Dru?”
“She’s inside him now, making him remember who he was before he danced in the night. Before he was one of us.” Angel shook his head, wondering to himself why he bothered to listen to her insane jabber. He released his hold on her hair, allowing her to crumble to the ground. He’d had enough of this, forgetting for the moment that he had made her into what she was. He’d drag Spike kicking and screaming back to the mansion if he had to, just to get her to shut up. As he started to turn away from her, her child like voice gripped him again.
“They have the secret to your soul, and he will help them. There is something about him you don’t know, my Angel.” Divine madness shined in her eyes and he didn’t have a clue whether to take her rambling to heart or not.
“What, Dru?” he asked kneeling down on the floor in front of her. Her hand gripped the front of his shirt, causing the material to tear.
“Come closer, and I’ll tell you a secret.” She whispered, her eyes burning into his and making him comply. He had forgotten that she could do this, make him bend to her will. He was so used to being in control with her that when she asserted her mind powers on him, he was always taken unaware.
As if an invisible thread were pulling him, he leaned closer, shuddering slightly as she began to whisper in his ear. The words she spilled were incredible, unbelievable, and he felt a white-hot rage spread through his black heart. They would not succeed. He would not become that sniveling idiot again. And Spike would pay dearly for the masquerade he had been carrying on for the last hundred and thirty years. He was in love with the Slayer, was he? That would make her returning to the fold even sweeter.
A slow, feral smile crossed his features, as he thought of all the delightful things he would do to punish those that dared to fuck with his life. Turning away from Dru, he stood and began barking out orders to the terrified minions in the room, sending them into a flurry of motion. *Time to pay the piper* he thought, chuckling maniacally as Dru’s voice continued to whisper in his head.
Spike stared down into his cup, seemingly inspecting the fluffy, white marshmallows with great interest. He was diligently trying to figure out how he had come to be seated at the Summers’ kitchen table, a mug of hot cocoa in front of him, and the two blond women on either side. He remembered the heavy silence in the car as he drove Buffy home. The only time it was broken was when she directed him where to turn, her icy voice leaving slices in his soul. It was with mixed feelings of relief and regret that he pulled in front of the house on Revello Drive.
As they tried to figure out away to say goodbye, Spike felt a presence hovering outside his open window. He turned his head, eyes flashing yellow at the possible threat. When all he saw was a startled, middle-aged woman, he managed to slip a charming smile onto his features. Joyce Summers had returned his smile, thanking him for watching out or Buffy and invited him inside for a cuppa. It had been on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but then the ghost of his mum seemed to perch on his shoulder, telling him to be polite.
So, here he was, answering Joyce’s occasional question and stealing glances at Buffy. After a few minutes of awkward silence, the Slayer seemed to have had enough. She had risen from the table, putting her cup in the sink with a sharp crack. She’d then turned and told her mother she was going to go take a bath. Without another word, she had breezed out of the kitchen, ignoring te feel of Spike’s eyes on her back.
Joyce, who had been watching the body language of the two since they’d walked in the door, was not surprised to see the expression of naked longing flash across his face. She didn’t have to be told, to notice that they had gotten under each others skin. Or that her daughter was probably up in the bathroom right this instant crying her eyes out. The only thing that saved Spike from feeling the wrath of Joyce was the fact that he looked like he would have cried himself if not for her presence.
“I wanted to thank you,” she started, waiting until he turned to her, his stoic facade firmly in place. “For taking care of my daughter today.” She finished, a light smile curving her lips. He nodded, mutely, looking back down at his cup. “You like her, don’t you?” Spike’s eyes shot back up to hers at the unexpected question.
“Doesn’t matter.” He mumbled, wishing desperately for a cigarette.
“Why?” *What is it with these Summers’ woman and their bloody questions? * he thought darkly.
“I’m the Slayer of Slayers.” He said, as if that explained it all.
“Well, she’s still walking around, so, I don’t see what that has to do with it.”
“I’m no good for her. ‘Sides, she’s still in love with Angel.” Joyce nodded in agreement, not seeing a need to argue the point.
“A part of her always will be. But I can see that she feels a connection with you. After you left Giles’, she came home and talked to me about you. Every night she patrolled with Kendra, she would look for you, ignoring the danger she was in from Angel.” He didn’t know what to think of what she was telling him. It didn’t make him think that his decision to stop what was going on between them before it started, was wrong.
“I’m a killer. The things I’ve done . . . ” He trailed off, not knowing why he felt the need to justify himself to Buffy’s mother.
“And Angel wasn’t?” She asked him. At his blank stare, she leaned forward, pinning him with her gaze. “Let me tell you something. I never liked Angel. That was BEFORE I found out he was a vampire. Maybe it was because a mother instinctively knows the man that is going to take her daughters virginity, therefore she hates him on sight. Or maybe it was because I thought he was too old for her.” She chuckled a bit. “If I’d only known, right?” His lips quirked at that. “My point is, I’ve known you for exactly thirty minutes, and I don’t feel any of the anxiousness that I felt with Angel.”
“You don’t know me.” He insisted, feeling his reserve start to crumble.
“I read the book. I can tell, just by the way you’re acting, that more of it is true than you want to be. That doesn’t change who you are now. If you were still that same person, you would have done what you were sent here to do, and my daughter would truly be lost to me. But you didn’t. Don’t sell yourself short. Every being on this planet deserves to be loved.” He looked at her then, his usual cold resolve stripped from his features. What she saw was a young man with enough self doubt to topple the world. He had been led to believe, or had chosen to believe that he wasn’t worthy of something as simple as love.
“I was in love once.” He admitted quietly. “She almost destroyed me.” She laid a sympathetic hand on his leather-covered arm.
“Well, I’d say that Buffy’s first experience didn’t exactly do her any favors.” She told him, smiling gently at him. “Maybe you two can get past the pain, and find what you need in each other.” Unbeknownst to them, Buffy sat on the top of the stairs, her enhanced hearing picking up every word. *He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me* she thought, dumbfounded. He hadn’t actually said it, but it was in the undertone of his words. Sudden anger sprang from deep within her, and she felt herself wanting to slap him silly for not allowing her to decide that for herself. Without thought, she stormed down the steps, and rounded the corner to the kitchen.
Both sets of eyes turned to the Slayer as she emerged through the door. They took in the flare of her nostrils, and the determined set if her shoulders. Joyce recognized the anger flowing around her daughter with an interested cock of her head. Spike also saw it, but was struck dumb by the vision she made.
“Mom, can I talk to Spike for a minute?” Joyce looked between the two unique vampires, seeing the air practically crackle. She suppressed a knowing smile, and patted the arm her hand was resting on, offering him good luck. He didn’t even glance at her as she rose to leave, too intent on the tiny, blonde bundle of fury hovering a few feet away.
“Be gentle with him, honey. He is a man.” Her mother said quietly, kissing Buffy good night. The Slayers’ face softened a bit, returning her mothers’ kiss.
“Goodnight, mom.” As soon as Joyce left the kitchen, Buffy waited a beat before whirling on the man at the table. “Just who the Hell do you think you are?”