Chapter 27: Necessary and Unneeded Words
Lying on his side, his cheek resting on his closed fist, Spike was watching the delicious creature that was sleeping right next to him. Her head was against his chest, her arm around him, holding him close, one of her legs trapped between his. Her lips were curled up in a contented smile, and every now and then she made that adorable little purr sound. A couple of lit pillar candles cast dancing shadows on the room and on her as he detailed this face he knew so well. Earlier, he had had doubts that this was his Buffy. Now, the doubts were gone.
*****
He had let Buffy drink. He had allowed her to bite someone and take blood. True, she had bitten before he could react, but he could have stopped her immediately instead of very deliberately waiting. He couldn’t have said why. Maybe to give her an idea of what he did when he hunted wrongdoers to scare them? Maybe because she had just begged her way through his defenses? He didn’t know why. All he knew was that now he felt nauseous, and had a very strong urge to apologize to his Childe for simply letting her do what she had wanted to do all day long.
They were walking back home, having left the car in the alley by the shop. Sunrise was still a couple of hours away, but Spike felt worn out. Buffy, on the other hand, had a light bounce to her step. He could see from the corner of his eye that she was smiling, and it was a surprise. He had expected her to complain that he had stopped her before she could kill the man. But she wasn’t complaining. She wasn’t saying anything, actually. Just smiling and humming lightly.
As they came in, she shrugged out of her duster and left it on the banister, then went up the steps, turning briefly to blow him a kiss from the tip of her fingers. He watched her disappear upstairs, a little puzzled by her attitude, but too tired to think about it. He went in the kitchen to check if Willow had left a message, and indeed she had. But her few words did not announce her success as he had hoped. Instead she apologized for not finding answers and announced she had called Giles and asked his and the Council’s help. And Spike couldn’t help but wonder if this day in hell would ever stop. He had a sickening idea of how the Council would help, and it involved a stake and ashes. He doubted Giles would be able to stop them, and wasn’t even completely sure he would want to.
Trying to stifle the despair that was tightening his throat, he joined Buffy upstairs. She was waiting for him by the door, clad in a long red silk gown, his favorite, and he was surprised to see a long satin ribbon in her hands. He was usually the one who initiated this kind of games. She silenced his questions with a finger on his lips, and brought the ribbon up, silently asking for his permission. Once again unwilling to deny her what she wanted, he nodded his assent, and she tied the black length over his eyes as a blindfold.
With his sight gone, he paid more attention to his other senses, and noticed the faint music that played in the background, soft piano notes, calming rhythms. Buffy brushed against his back, startling him as he hadn’t noticed she had moved, and he took a sharp intake of breath that brought to his nose the lavender and sage scent of the candles that lit the room.
Still behind him, Buffy took hold of his duster and pulled it off his shoulders. Then his unbuttoned shirt and his t-shirt followed, until he could feel the silk of her garment against his bare back as she slipped her arms around him, hugging him from behind. Her skin was as soft as the silk, and he let out a little sigh as his jeans suddenly were becoming uncomfortably tight.
“I want you,” she whispered right against his ear, her tongue darting out to trace his earlobe, and he shivered at both the words and touch.
She nudged him forward, and at the same time he felt her remove his belt and unbutton his pants. When his knees touched the bed, she pulled his jeans just past his waist and asked him in a silky whisper to sit down. He obeyed her request, a small part of his mind wondering if maybe her soul had finally returned. The softness and care she displayed were light years from the aggressive coupling she had demanded earlier. He didn’t give the idea much attention, though, because Buffy was now in front of him, removing his boots, socks and jeans, and the little devil was deliberately breathing right against very sensitive parts of his aroused anatomy.
Her forced breathing stopped, and he almost whimpered because she wasn’t touching him at all anymore. Yet he knew she was still there, because he hadn’t heard her move, and her scent was all around him, tantalizingly close. He had no warning. Her tongue was suddenly caressing his length, excruciatingly slow, bathing each inch of him but avoiding the very tip. Unwittingly, he brought his hands toward her, just trying to touch her, but she batted them away. Gently, she pushed against his chest to make him lay down and asked him to move up on the bed. Once more, he did as she asked without a word. Ordering her around all day long had become painful, and he was glad to give her back all control. At least for now.
Lying flat on his back, his arms up above his head, he waited for her touch to return, trying to fake a patience he had never had. The caresses resumed, but not where he had expected and hoped. Butterfly kisses right along the bottom line of the blindfold soon became tiny licks down his cheek and to his mouth. It was torture not to reciprocate, and he couldn’t help parting his lips to invite her in. For an instant longer, her tongue ran along his lips, as if to point out she was following her own agenda, then it slid in, caressing his tongue as an old friend before exploring his mouth thoroughly, with particular attention to where his fangs hid, but he refused to let them come into play. Soft and nice was perfect, no need to bring blood into it. She finally abandoned his mouth and traveled on his throat, nibbling her way down without ever coming anywhere close to biting, paying special attention to the already healing marks she had left on him in the afternoon.
As she was kissing him, she had moved on the bed so that her body was now alongside his. It became very difficult not to move when he realized the gown had disappeared, and it was now the silk of her skin that stroked his flesh. Always down, she went, stopping on her way to tease his flat nipples in turn, nibbling again until she reached and licked his navel. He was shivering by then, his body tense with anticipation, but her course shifted as she reached what he had thought was her goal, and she turned her attention to his left thigh instead. A quiet moan escaped his lips, and he could feel hers curve into a smile against his skin.
“Anything you want?” she asked softly, and he could feel the air moved by her words just at the base of his cock.
“Just you,” he replied, and his voice was thick with need.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
He jerked when she shifted over him and gradually crawled up. Her hard nipples drew twin lines of fire as they caressed his body, and soon they were right against his chest, her mouth was back to his, and her hand was slowly guiding him into her moist depths. They both sighed in contentment when he was finally buried in her to the hilt.
He was surprised when, instead of starting to move against him, she tugged the blindfold and returned his sight to him. He watched her as she watched him, her face too serious.
“Who do you see?” she asked quietly.
“You. My Buffy.”
She nodded slightly. “Your Buffy. Even without it, I’m still me. Still yours. You know that, right?”
Without it… It took him a couple of seconds to realize what ‘it’ was. And a couple more to understand she was just proving him she didn’t need a soul to be his as much as she had been before.
“I know,” he agreed with a small smile. “All mine.”
“All yours.”
Her fingers laced with his above his head and she started rocking her hips, her eyes never leaving his. There were no more words until the end. No fangs, no shared blood. For a short moment of eternity, there were just a man and a woman, two demons, dancing a dance that was older than time.
*****
If he had let her know in any way how far from him she had seemed when they slept together the previous afternoon, Spike might have wondered if she had put up a show to convince him she was still the same. But he was very sure he had not let his feelings appear. So this surprisingly tender lovemaking had come from her and her only. Which meant, as she had said, that she was still the same. Still Buffy. Still his.
Very lightly, he pressed his lips to the top of her head, and carefully extricated himself from her embrace. A brief frown crossed her face then, which disappeared when he stroked her back soothingly. Picking up his jeans, he tiptoed to the door, giving her a last loving glance before he walked out of the room. All his.
A few minutes later, he was in the kitchen, an empty mug in front of him, a cigarette at his lips, thinking, when the phone rang and broke his train of thought. He picked it up before the second ring, hoping that he had been quick enough to spare his Mate’s sleep. It was already the middle of the afternoon, but they had had a long night.
“Red?” he said immediately, hopeful despite himself. “Found something?”
The voice however was not the one he expected.
“No, Spike, this is Giles. How is Buffy?”
“You know how she is,” Spike replied coldly. “Red told you.”
There was a pause, and Spike could very well picture the Watcher taking off his glasses for some pointless polishing.
“She told me disturbing things, yes.”
“And you told the Council of Wankers?”
“I am afraid I had to,” the man said, maybe a little too defensively. “We need all the help we can get to return her soul to Buffy as soon as we can.”
Spike mumbled something that might have passed for agreement.
“We are… we are coming to Sunnydale,” the Watcher added, now hesitant.
“We?”
“Me, Andrea, the new Slayer, and some members of the Council, including some magic specialists.”
A warning sounded in Spike’s mind at the word Slayer.
“Why bring the new Slayer, Rupert?” he asked suspiciously.
There was another pause. “The Council wants her to meet Buffy and train a little with her. Once she has her soul back, of course.”
“Of course,” Spike repeated blandly.
“We will be in Sunnydale in a couple of days.”
“OK.”
The man let out a quiet sigh that Spike barely heard, and he added, very quiet now:
“Take care of her, please. Don’t let her do anything she’ll regret.”
After a few parting words, Giles hang up, and Spike let himself slide against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. They were going to kill her. He had feared the reaction of the Council ever since he had realized Buffy had lost her soul and now there was no doubt left in his mind. They were bringing a second Slayer to Sunnyhell, as well as Witches or Warlocks, and no one would make him believe they did not intend to kill Buffy if they didn’t immediately manage to restore her soul. Would they even try?
His hands shaking, he lit another cigarette and tried to calm down. Buffy was his Childe and Mate, two very powerful reasons for him to do everything that was in his power to keep her safe. And he had promised. Pledged himself to her. The soul he didn’t have any more. The dreams he wanted to live with her. The nights he wanted to spend at her side, in her arms. All of it was hers. All of him.
Minutes ran as he thought. He finished the cigarette and lit another one, using his empty mug as an ashtray. The decision wasn’t that hard to make, even though it meant breaking away from all they had. And everyone. At least, she wouldn’t want to eat anyone they knew anymore. His mind made up, he pondered the next thought for a while. In the end, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. He just couldn’t disappear without a word. He knew firsthand how much that kind of things hurt.
“Angels Investigation. We help…”
The poof sounded tired and worried despite the fake interest in his voice. Spike was already regretting having called, his Sire certainly didn’t need to lose any more sleep, when he paused in the middle of his canned greeting and added, almost in a whisper:
“Spike?”
The vampire almost smiled around his fag, wondering how the human had guessed.
“Yeah, Peaches, it’s me. Feeling better?”
“Just fine. How are you?”
“Buffy’s still soulless. Pretty damn happy about it too. She’d make a great huntress, y’know.”
Come to think of it, she had always been.
“No Spike,” Angel said slowly. “How are you ?”
The concern in that faraway voice felt like warm honey, but Spike didn’t let it touch him.
“Me? I’m peachy. Just fucking wonderful, I am.”
A bit too enthusiastic, maybe, because the poof seemed to see right through it.
“William.”
The softly uttered name broke down Spike’s facade. As he sat on the kitchen’s floor, the phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he allowed his fears to get to the surface.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked hollowly. “I had gotten used to blood bags. Used to wearing a white hat. All for her. Anything for her. And now all she wants, for her and for me, is what I denied myself for years.”
There was a short pause, followed by a quiet but forceful statement.
“You’re strong. You can do this until her soul is back. I know you can.”
Spike took a long drag on his cigarette, holding the smoke in, trying not to let himself say too much, but failing in the end.
“That’s just the thing, Peaches. Will she ever get it back?”
“What?”
Angel sounded startled, to say the least. He probably hadn’t thought one second Buffy wouldn’t get her soul back. Hadn’t wanted to think about it. Just like Spike had tried to ignore the possibility. But he couldn’t play that game anymore, not when her unlife was at risk.
“Willow didn’t find anything,” Spike explained morosely. “She called the Watcher. He’s coming here with his friends, the wankers.”
“Giles wouldn’t hurt her.”
How Spike wished there hadn’t been that almost imperceptible hesitation in Angel’s voice that echoed his own doubts…
“Giles wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But the others? I don’t think we’re going to stay and find out.”
“What… what do you mean?”
“I mean… Buffy wants to go away. Travel. And it might just be the best solution for us.”
Angel didn’t say anything, but Spike heard the unasked question.
“I can’t. Can’t argue with her every night, every minute, about why she shouldn’t kill anyone. My Mate wants to be a true vamp. I’ll be a true vamp with her. There’s nothing stopping either of us any longer.”
Another silence, and Spike started to wonder if he had made a mistake. Was Angel getting any staking ideas? He hadn’t planned to say all this when he had called. He just wanted to make sure his Sire was alright. But the words were coming out almost by themselves.
“I understand,” Angel said at last. “More than I wish I did.”
Taking a long drag on his fag, Spike let the smoke out with a sigh, and asked, very quietly:
“Was she right?”
“About what?”
“Did you want it?”
And once more, the silence, until Angel murmured:
“God help me, but, yes, some part of me wanted it. Glad you stopped her, though.”
“’Couldn’t just let a fledgling turn my Sire,” Spike tried to say on a light, joking tone. “If anyone’s gonna do it, it’s me.”
“Yes Childe,” Angel replied, and there was no humor in his voice. “It would be you.”
Spike would have given a bloody lot to be in front of Angel right now, to be able to look into his eyes and see what was or was not there.
“So,” the human asked. “When will you leave?”
“Dunno. Tonight or tomorrow. Before the wankers arrive. We’ll send you postcards on our way.”
“Don’t.”
There was pain in that simple word, as if it had cost a lot to Angel to say it.
“Afraid they might track us through our mail?” Spike asked, frowning at the thought.
“No,” Angel replied in a murmur. “Afraid I might decide to join you.”
Calling had been a bad idea. The worst idea ever. They should just have dropped by on the way and asked him, face to face, what he wanted. Too late now.
“Do you need anything? Fake passports? Money?”
Again, too much concern. Way too much for Spike’s comfort.
“Yeah, I suppose we could use both,” he mumbled.
“I can have them ready for you tomorrow night. You need anything else?”
Nope. Nothing. You’re doing more than you should already. I don’t know why you bother but really I didn’t…
“You.”
As soon as the word escaped Spike’s lips, he regretted it, because there was nothing but silence answering that whisper. Until finally another whisper rose through the line.
“Spike… I…”
One corner of Spike’s mouth curled up in a sad half smile.
“That’s OK, Peaches. You don’t have to say anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Don’t really want you with us anyway. You and your habits of stealing my girls.”
The words could have been harsh, prelude to a war. But they were delivered in a slightly teasing tone, and Angel picked up on the bantering.
“Well, you’re the one with the habit of falling in love with my girls.”
“Hey, not my fault. You’re a big poof, but you have good taste.”
“And you are the unliving proof of that.”
Despite himself, Spike laughed. A real laugh, if just a little sad, soon echoed by Angel’s.
“So, you’ll come get the papers tomorrow?” the human asked after a few seconds.
“Yeah. I’ll just be in and out, don’t want Buffy to get ideas about you again. Don’t want to see the kids either, too much to explain.”
And if he stayed more than a few seconds, he might get tempted to tempt Angel.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Take care of you. And of her.”
“Always. You do the same, Peaches. You’re the mortal one, now.”
“I will.”
Was it time for goodbyes already? Spike had never been good at goodbyes.
“Angel?”
“Yes Spike?”
There were actually many things he wasn’t good at saying. Like the words that were burning his lips and mind now. He had been beaten, once, long ago, for daring to say them while he thought his Sire was asleep. He had never made that mistake a second time. And still couldn’t seem to make himself say them. But maybe he didn’t need to, after all.
“I know, William. Me too.”
Smiling a grateful smile that he was very glad Angel couldn’t see, Spike hung up the phone. Filled with a new resolve now that he had a plan, he sauntered back to his sleeping lover, wondering whether to tell her about his decision or to keep it a secret until they actually left. Slipping back into her arms, he decided to make it a surprise for her, because right now his mouth had found more interesting things to do than talk.