Chapter Ten
Buffy rolled over and snuggled deeper under the comforter in her mother’s bed. One hand slid across the cool sheets, in search of Spike. When all she encountered was empty space, she opened her eyes to peer at the uninhabited side of the bed.
“Spike?” she mumbled sleepily, pushing up in her elbows to peer around the room. The late afternoon sun filtered around the closed curtain, bathing the room in its soft light. She found herself looking for dust piles before her sleep addled brain caught up with the fact that there wasn’t enough light coming in to kill him. It was then that she heard a faint banging sound, and she rolled over to search for her robe.
She found it pooled at the foot of the bed, and wondered momentarily about when he pulled it off of her. Her tired, sated body screamed in protest at the movement. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the bed and sleep the rest of the day away, but she wanted Spike there with her. So, with that mission in mind, she pulled the sash of her robe tight and walked into the hall. She turned in the direction the banging was coming from, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Sid brushed past her.
“Stupid dog.” She muttered, rolling her eyes and following the retriever into her bedroom. What she saw would have made her angry had it not had her laughing first. Spike stood in the middle of her bed, a screwdriver in one hand, and a hammer in the other. His long arms were stretched over his head as he pounded holes through the ceiling. A fine white sheen of drywall dust coated his arms, chest and hair, and a stream of colorful curses were falling from his mouth.
“Spike? Why are you breaking my house?” She asked, leaning against the door frame and crossing her arms over her chest. He glanced at her over her shoulder before returning to his work.
“Looking for the bloody camera.” he told her. “FUCK!” he spat, when he missed the end of the screwdriver and nailed his thumb instead. A shiver ran over her skin at the mention of the device.
“I guess no luck.” She said, walking over to look at the hand he was holding. He had hit himself pretty hard, and a lovely bruise was already forming on his alabaster skin. He dropped down on his knees to the bed, hissing when she tapped the bruise.
“No. Hey, be careful.” She arched a brow at him, and stuck her tongue in her cheek.
“This coming from the man that had a Hell God’s fingers poking around his insides?” He looked at her, scarred eyebrow raised.
“Humph. Seems to me I at least got a kiss after that bit of trauma.” He mock snarled. Her grin was wide as she leaned in and brushed her lips over his.
“My hero.” she sing songed when she pulled away. Spike snorted at her, then raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You’re going to fix those.” she told him when she saw just how many holes he had drilled. At least thirty were spread in a circular pattern around her bed. He offered her a smirk, before tossing the screwdriver and hammer down to the floor. Sid’s head popped up when they landed not a foot from him. He growled at the offending items before plopping his head back down and closing his eyes. Spike chuckled and Buffy rolled her eyes before slipping her arms around the vampires neck, oblivious to the dust covering him. He looked so good kneeling on her bed, all sleep tousled and manly.
“Pet, what about the camera?” He asked when he recognized the desire in her eyes. She gave him a wicked grin and threaded her fingers through his hair.
“I don’t mind if you don’t. Let’s really give him an eyeful.” She whispered as her lips descended on his. He wasted no time in pulling open the robe once again, then crushing her warmth against him. Their tongues battled mercilessly as he turned them to lay her on the bed. Neither cared about the dust mingling on their bodies and mouths. He pulled away briefly to get the robe completely off her, then leaned in to capture a nipple in his mouth. She arched into him as he rolled the sensitive peak over his tongue, his blunt teeth biting just to the point of pain.
“Oh, god.” she moaned, her fingers in his hair pressing him more firmly against her flesh. Her feet came up to rub against the backs of his thighs and over the firm swell of his buttocks. Heat suffused her as his mouth moved across her sweat slicked skin to the other breast, repeating his ministrations there. His finger danced over her skin, his cool touch sending electricity to every nerve. She writhed helplessly beneath him, gasping when he trailed his tongue down her torso, dipping playfully into her belly button, then further down to the soft curls of her sex. He paused there, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her arousal, his eyes nearly black with need. She watched him through hooded eyes, her entire body anticipating what she knew he was about to do. She pulled her knees up, opening herself up for him. He slid his hands along her splayed thighs, hooking his arms around them to pull them apart wider.
“What do you want, Buffy?” He asked, his lust thickened voice causing her pulse to race. He gently blew on her overheated sex, causing her to jump towards his mouth.
“Please, Spike.” She begged, her hands fisting on the bed. She was thrashing on the bed, and he hadn’t even touched his deliciously cool tongue to her sizzling cunt. Wetness seeped out of her as he did it again.
“Please what?” he asked once more, wanting her to say it.
“Please, devour me.” And that’s what he did. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Spike lowered his head to her flesh. His tongue invaded her folds, licking up the slit to collect the moisture pooled there, before circling the hard nubbin of flesh at the top. Buffy’s hips thrust up to meet him, her hands running mindlessly over his shoulders and her own thighs. When her fingers brushed against his, they linked, and she found herself pinned, completely at his mercy.
He kept his eyes on her face as his tongue slid inside of her, her juices spilling over his tongue once more. Sweat broke out across her skin once more, and the feel of his cool lips and tongue moved over her dripping channel. Gasps and moans escaped her as every pass of his mouth sent icy shivers cascading through her.
“Oh, God.” she moaned when he stiffened his tongue and attacked her clit, her hips crashing up to push him further into her mound. “Oh god, yes, yesyesyesyes.” she mumbled, as bright lights shimmered behind her eyes. She broke her hands free from his and buried them in his hair, pressing him even more closely to her. “Oh God, SPIKE!” She screamed as she fell fully over the edge, her entire body spasming with her orgasm. He pulled her hands from his hair and streaked up her body, one hand pushing his sweats down. He crushed his mouth against hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth in the same instant that he thrust deeply into her still convulsing heat. She sucked greedily on his tongue, tasting herself as well as Taste of Spike, and the combination flooded her with desire once more. She wrapped her legs around his hips in an effort to draw him deeper, to have him fill her more completely. He hooked his arms around her knees, bracing his hands on the bed and ripped his mouth away from hers. This new angle had him hitting her g spot, and before she knew it, she was rocketing over the edge again, the slight sting of his fangs in her neck only intensifying the sensation. She shrieked his name once more as the powerful climax swept her away.
Spike growled against her neck as he felt her walls clamp around him. Her blood swam over his tongue, filling him with her warmth and power, and he felt his sac tighten in the seconds before he himself followed her over with a roar of her name. He pushed himself as far into her as he could, every muscle rigid as his shaft pulsed his cold seed into her, cooling her from the inside out. He retracted his fangs from her neck, licking the twin punctures until the bleeding stopped.
He raised his head then, to look deep into her eyes.
“I love you, Buffy.” He whispered, brushing his mouth against hers. She pulled away, a smile on her lips.
“I love you, too.” Tears sprang to her eyes at the look of pure wonderment that softened his face. Then, the first true grin that she had ever seen on him, one borne of happiness, split his features. With a bark of laughter, he descended on her again, kissing her breathless.
~*~*~
With a howl of rage, Jesse slammed his fist into the wall. Bone cracked and blood spilled, but he didn’t care. Pain was good. Pain whited out the image of her fucking that dead thing from his mind. Pain washed away the sound of her screaming ITS name in release, and the soft sound of her declaration of love.
Pain shattered the last frozen vestiges that she was anything but a whore. A no good useless slut, just like every other woman he’d ever known, starting with his mother and ending with her. How stupid he had been, pinning all his hopes on her. He should have known, the first time she took one of those creatures into her bed that she was worthless. But he had been blinded by his love for her. Blinded by the sanctity of her calling.
To think that he had been ready to forgive her, that he was already feeling guilty for leaving that shirt to torment her with. He had just wanted her to feel at least a tiny bit of the anguish that he was feeling. He felt sick with the knowledge that she had fooled him.
Tears coursed unheeded down his face as he ripped the room apart. The woman on the bed struggled not to jump at the noise, hoping that is she stayed still enough, he wouldn’t take his rage out on her. She had been caught between horror and happiness when she saw what was occuring in Buffy’s bedroom. On the one hand, it was good for the two wrapped in the throes of passion. On the other, it was going to be bad for all involved, now that he had seen it. Now that he had to deal with the fact that she wasn’t perfect.
The sounds of glass breaking and furniture smashing filled her ears, causing her numbness to retreat. She felt everything again, the burn of her injuries, the hunger in her belly from not being fed enough. The stickiness of her skin, and the greasiness of her hair. But, worst of all, she felt the huge hole in her heart growing larger with each strike of his fist against the wall, the furniture. Nothing was safe from his ire, and she could only pray that he would finally end her life. She decided that the numbness was better.
~*~*~
Spike strolled happily through the cemetery, his senses looking for anything worth slaying, even though he didn’t expect to find anything. Demons were notorious for going underground once a human killer invaded their town. It was one thing to get slain for something you did. It was a totally different thing to get killed for the work of a human. He found himself thinking of New York during the Summer of Sam. He himself had hightailed it out of there once the word that a serial killer was stalking the streets had made it back to him and Dru.
Hopping up onto a headstone, Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it, thinking back to the truly glorious day he had spent with Buffy. He still couldn’t get over the fact that she had said that she loved him. More than once. Every time it had fallen from his lips, she had returned it, a look of happiness making her beauty shine brighter.
After the tryst in her room, they had gone to shower off the dry wall dust, not making it out of there until the water ran cold. Then, Buffy’s stomach had started to grumble, and they had gone down to the kitchen to eat. Of course, Spike didn’t think either of them would ever be able to look at the kitchen table quite the same again. A smile curved his lips as he thought of all the wonderfully wicked things that could be done with strawberry preserves. Through it all, Sid had trotted behind them, ever diligent in his quest to protect his adopted owners.
They had been interrupted from their erotic play twice. The first time, when Dawn called. Buffy had listened to her sister gush about the beach, assuring that she was fine. He saw the relief on her face that Dawn was out having fun in the sun with her friends, and not in Sunnydale, worrying about being the next one to die.
The second time was Giles, calling from New York during his layover to tell her when his flight would be in. She had spent the entire conversation with the Watcher trying to evade Spike’s wandering hands, and failing miserably. She had practically hung up on Giles in order to tackle Spike to the floor and ride him into unconsciousness. They had taken the whole day learning everything about each other, and Spike couldn’t remember a day better spent.
But, once the time for Giles to arrive closed in, Buffy convinced him to leave. Not because she was ashamed of her relationship with him. It was just that she wanted to have time to talk to him, about everything. She had stressed that, telling him that she was going to let the Watcher know. He had agreed with her, not leaving until Giles’ taxi had pulled up outside. Then, he had slipped out the back, telling Sid to stay put. The dog had cocked his head, his want to go hunting with his master evident. However, he just laid back down on the kitchen floor, his head propped on his paws as he watched them kiss goodbye.
So, this is how Spike came to be patrolling the cemetery that was actually as dead as it was supposed to be. Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he flung it away then stood to start walking again. Maybe he’d swing by the crypt and see if the cops had damaged anything. He wasn’t worried about being caught by them, he would be able to get away with no problem.
As he got closer to his part of the cemetery, a familiar scent wafted to his nose. Cursing loudly, he stalked through the night, following it. Dread began to work it’s way through him when he realized that he recognized it. Rounding the side of his crypt, he walked past the taped off crime scene and into the bank of trees surrounding the home of the dead. He was sure that if his heart could beat, it would be tap dancing out of his chest as the smell became stronger. Blood. Familiar blood.
He shifted into game face, as soon as the darkness of the woods enveloped him. About thirty yards in, he saw her, her too thin body illuminated from the moon filtering through the trees. He quickly trotted over to her, the combination of blood, sweat and filth assailing him. He breathed a sigh of relief when the sound of her heart reached his ears. It was faint, but it was there.
Kneeling down next to her unmoving form, he reached out and gripped her shoulder, rolling her onto her back. He was struck by how gaunt her once beautiful features were. Cuts and abrasions marred her skin and the smell of sex wafted from her to mingle with the other stench. He gingerly reached out to brush a strand of grimy hair away from her forehead.
“My God, Anya. What happened?”
~*~*~
Giles sat in Buffy’s couch, a mug of tea clutched in hand. He had been sitting there, quietly listening to her tale, a look of equal parts fear, disbelief and astonishment firmly set on his face. His heart was hurting for those poor girls, as well as his Slayer. Guilt poured off of her in waves, and he could see that she blamed herself for the actions of a mad man. This disturbed him more than her quiet admission about Spike. As much as he didn’t like it, some part of him had always known that the vampire and the Slayer would find their way to each other. Buffy had just been to adamant in her hate of him.
“Buffy, you mustn’t feel that you are responsible.” He told her when she was finished.
“How else am I supposed to feel? He’s killed these girls because they look like me. He’s broken into my house, taken pictures of my family and friends. And, he may have killed Xander.” Buffy said. She paused in her pacing to look at him, her earlier look of happiness stripped from her features. She smiled faintly at the distant bark she heard from the kitchen. Sid hadn’t taken to Giles very well, and Buffy didn’t have the patience to deal with a growling dog while she was trying to talk, so, she had put him in the basement. Something he wasn’t very happy about.
“Yes, I understand that. But, you can’t not be held culpable for the actions of a crazed man. He needs help and that is not your fault. It’s not really that hard to recognize why he would become fixated on you. However, that does not make it your fault.” He stressed, placing his mug on the coffee table and stepping over to her. He took her hands in his, worry filling him as he looked at the daughter he never had. “Please, stop blaming yourself.” he implored.
“Spike said the same thing.” She said, squeezing his fingers in hers.
“For once, and I don’t believe that I am saying this, I agree with him.” They both chuckled a bit at that. She stunned him when she leaned into him for a hug, but he wrapped her in his arms and held her. Tears fell from her eyes to dampen his shirt, relief flooding through her that he was here. She always felt a little lost when he wasn’t around, and now that he was back, she felt as safe as she did with Spike.
“Thank you.” She told him when she pulled away, sniffling a little.
“For what?” He asked, a bit flustered.
“For being you.” She said with a smile. The moment was broken by a sharp knock sounding against the door. A frown marred Buffy’s brow as she moved to answer it. It wouldn’t be Spike. He wasn’t supposed to be coming back until she called him. “Who is it?” The voice that answered her had her flipping the lock and pulling back the chains with a quickness. As soon as she pulled the door open, she flung herself through and into a pair of wide spread arms, not hearing the wild barking of the dog trapped in the basement.