Chapter 12
Buffy smoothed back the covers on her bed and sat Mr. Gordo to the side. The ring was on its way to LA, where it would soon be delivered to Angel. She knew he was the most deserving of it, he’d use it in his fight to help the helpless or hopeless or whatever inane slogan Cordelia had apparently come up with.
She stared at his Claddaugh ring he’d left with her. She’d wondered why he’d bothered, if it was a sign of the break he wanted to make, a memento of the love they’d had, or simply a token he hadn’t attached much meaning to. Whatever it had been, it would always represent a special part of her life. Even if it was one she was learning to move past. She dropped the ring back in her jewelry box and locked it back. She returned to the mirror, slowly brushing her hair, grateful for the quiet of the still empty house after the bustle of the dorm. She stared at her reflection, tracing the just barely visible bruise that remained on her neck.
“Slayer.”
She turned, somehow not surprised that he was there.
“Spike.”
“You sent the ring to Angel?”
She nodded. It wasn’t as though that should be a big surprise to him.
He stared off into the moonlit night. “Can I come in?”
“Don’t you think it’d be better if you didn’t?”
“Yeah, but then, I’ve been known to do things that weren’t good for me before.”
She floated across the room in a pale blue nightgown that draped her figure and made his unbeating heart twist a little, staying just out of his reach. She fluttered there, like a moth drawn to the flame, but knowing too close meant she’d get burned.
“Spike, I thought the truce was over.”
“We can always call a temporary one. I’m leaving town tomorrow.”
“For good?”
“That’s the plan Slayer. Sunnyhell’s always been a bit of a trouble spot for me.”
She reflected on this for a minute. “I guess it has been. Are you going back to Dru?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Not sure. We’ve, well, we may have reached the end. Course our run was longer than most. But, there are other spots in the world.”
There was something about his posture, the piercing blue eyes, the shadow created by moonlight that highlighted his face, the sadness in his mouth that made Buffy certain this wasn’t some trick. She inched closer to the window and leaned against the sill, crossing the barrier he couldn’t.
As she made that small move, Spike leaned in and captured her lips, drowning in the feel of her against him as she leaned out further and into his embrace. Buffy pulled away with a strangled moan and grabbed his shirt. “Come in, Spike, but I’m putting the barrier back up tomorrow.”
“Understood, luv.” He looked around suddenly. “Your mum home?”
She almost grinned, the Big Bad worried about her mom walking in on their little. . . And then it hit her with a rush. She was about to make love, no have sex, oh, it didn’t matter what she called it, she was about to be intimate with him again. There was no doubt in her mind as to what would happen. But now there were no special circumstances, no protective gear, just their words and promises. She shivered, wondering if she knew what she was getting herself into.
Suddenly he was next to her, pulling her close. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I just . . . I just wanted to see you before I left. I just needed to see you one more time.”
Their mouths met again and suddenly everything else dropped away as they frantically began to undress each other and scrambled for the bed.
Some time later Buffy lay against Spike’s chest, idly tracing little nondescript designs on his skin as he traced similar patterns on her back. She realized that what they’d had this afternoon had been wild and free and fun and sex. What they just had wasn’t the same thing at all and she knew deep down, that they were both going to regret this. There had been a desperation in their joining, as though they both knew they were teetering on the knife edge of something that could destroy them both, but was so powerful they couldn’t pull away without one last touch.
She’d didn’t know what had changed between them or when. Maybe it was the moment she gave in to the attraction when he’d pressed her against that wall. Maybe it was the first time he’d slid inside her. Maybe it was that impassioned kiss before he boosted her from the tomb. But most likely, it was that moment when they’d danced again, the killer instinct dissipated between them, leaving only a synchronosity of movement that was undeniable. Something had shifted, something in her heart had cracked open for the first time since Angel walked away.
He’d made love to her tonight, worshipping her body, making her feel more beautiful, more cared for, more adored than she’d ever felt. He’d murmured endearments, whispered phrases in languages she didn’t fully comprehend, called out her name in the height of ecstasy. He’d never said the words, never declared his love like Angel had done, but she’d seen something real and powerful in his eyes and it scared her to the core.
She couldn’t do this again, shouldn’t fall in love with a vampire, a soulless one at that. He’d made no pledges, just looked at her with those expressive eyes and she’d almost, almost been ready to beg him to stay, to fight with her, to change for her, to be the partner Angel wouldn’t be. But she knew he couldn’t do those things and she wouldn’t ask. No matter what connection they felt now, wrapped together skin to skin in the still dark of the night, come morning it would all fall apart.
So as the night hours began to wane, he rose and dressed and slipped out the window without a sound, as though afraid if he opened his mouth, he’d utter promises he couldn’t keep in the harsh light of day. She’d pulled him close for one final bittersweet kiss and turned away as he vanished in the night.
And then Buffy returned to her bed and found herself weeping for the ending of something she’d barely known before it was gone.