“What’s wrong with you?” Spike asked quietly.
Buffy looked up. “What? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?”
“You’re rubbing your scar,” Spike nodded towards her neck, “You usually only do that when something’s wrong.”
Buffy frowned. Nobody else noticed her little quirks. But then, it was Spike’s job to notice such things. He probably also noticed that she was rubbing the scar he was responsible for. He did notice, and looked away from her uncomfortably. “I’m just thinking about this mess.”
“The house or the First Evil?”
Buffy grimaced, “Both.”
“I could thin the heard a little,” Spike offered, but the joke fell flat, and he looked even more uncomfortable than before.
Buffy laughed lightly, trying to make him relax, “I don’t think that’s necessary yet.”
“Where are the slayerettes anyway?”
“Out.”
“Out?”
“Giles decided they needed to relax a little, so Dawn and Xander took them out.”
“You didn’t feel like going?”
Buffy shrugged, “They’ll be plenty of time to relax later.” When I’m dead, she added silently. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Spike lied.
“Really?” Buffy asked skeptically. “You don’t look fine.”
“I’ll be fine,” Spike amended. “Why do you keep doing that?”
“What?”
“Rubbing your…neck.”
“Habit, I guess.”
They sat in an awkward silence. Neither one of them knew what to say or do. Finally, Spike stood up. “Are we patrolling tonight?”
“No, we’re resting tonight.”
“You sure?”
She sighed, “Yeah. You look about as tired as I feel.”
“About,” he agreed. “Well, I’m going down. Stairs. I’m going downstairs.”
Buffy smiled, “Do you want some company?”
“No,” he answered, a little too quickly.
“Well, I want the company.”
She followed him down the stairs, and knew it was a bad idea. What did she hope to accomplish my cornering him, when they had the whole house to themselves, and he was the only thing she could think of? He was on her mind constantly, and sometimes she thought if she could just touch him, maybe kiss him, things would be better. She shook her head. He didn’t like her to touch him.
Half the basement had been converted to a training room. Spike’s bed was in the other half. It looked so sparse….like a prison cell. “What do you do when you spend so much time down here?” Buffy asked.
He shrugged, “Train. Think.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
She sat beside him on the bed. Silence again. Buffy was tempted to give up and go upstairs. He obviously wanted to be left alone. But she wanted something too. She just couldn’t put her finger on what. It seemed like something was a missing. Something vital….a connection.
“Is it sore?” Spike asked.
“What?”
“Your bloody neck!”
“Why are you concerned about it?”
“Because you keep rubbing it and I keep….thinking about it. About what I did to you. And I…”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. But you don’t need to feel guilty.”
“About what?”
“Biting me. It…it was ok.”
He snorted. “Somehow, I don’t find that comforting.”
“Kiss me,” Buffy said suddenly.
“What?” Spike jumped up from the bed.
“Kiss me,” she repeated, calmly.
“No.”
“Spike, come here.”
He didn’t move.
“Please.”
He sat beside her again, but he was obviously agitated. “I can’t, Buffy.”
She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t kiss her back either.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked, his voice ragged.
That was a good question. Why was she doing this? Sitting with him? Kissing him? What was the cause of this insanity? A series of good questions, but Buffy didn’t have the answers. Didn’t even care for the answers, really.
“I miss you,” she offered.
“I’m right here, Slayer.”
She moved closer to him, “No, I missed you.”
Spike moved away, shaking his head. “No, no, no.”
Buffy bit her lip. “Spike, when the First had you, all I could do is think about you. And I was so relieved when I found you…”
Spike waited patiently for her to finish her thought. His face didn’t betray his feelings, for once, and she didn’t know how to read him. But she promised herself she wouldn’t be Avoido-Girl anymore, and she started this whole thing, she would finish it. Without running away. Without avoiding the issue. She probably wouldn’t have a chance like this again.
“I was relieved because I love you,” she whispered, unable to look at him. She was forced to, however, when he didn’t respond for several moments.
He was staring at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He reached out and touched her arm, tentatively.
“What?” She asked.
“Makin’ sure your real,” he said hoarsely. A lump was forming in his throat, and he found it difficult to talk around it.
Buffy bestowed him with a watery smile, “I’m real.” She kissed him again, and he didn’t pull away. Spike was careful about where he touched her. He was gentle and unsure, and allowed her to lead.
She ran her hands under his shirt and he winced slightly. “That still hurt?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be gentle.”
Her hands moved to his pants, and she quickly unbuttoned the fly. She smiled when she noticed he was wearing briefs now. “Seemed smarter this way, with all birds fluttering around here.”
She began massaging his cock softly, and waited several minutes for a reaction. When nothing happened, she looked at him, questioningly.
He was looking away from her, biting his lip. He looked like someone just sucker punched him in the gut. “What’s wrong?” She asked.
“I can’t.”
“What?”
He shrugged helplessly. “It doesn’t…I mean, I’ve been….Because of the…I just can’t.” Buffy had never seen him at a loss for words like that, and her heart went out to him. “You should just go,” he said.
She stood up, and Spike’s heart fell. He didn’t really want her to leave. But instead of walking out, she moved before him. She grasped his shoulders and straddled his lap. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer.
“I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.”
Spike began peppering her jaw with kisses, and then her throat. He nuzzled into her neck and inhaled deeply. He could smell her Ivory soap, her sweat, her arousal, and just below the surface of her soft skin, her rich, powerful blood.
She wrapped her legs and arms around him, and they held onto each other tightly, rocking slightly. Spike just wanted to be close to her. It had been so long since he’d been this warm
He had been so lonely these past weeks. They all checked on him occasionally, and he helped the little slayers train, but he needed more than that. He needed to touch and be touched. He needed someone to want him, to love him.
Buffy took a deep breath and allowed herself to relax. Spike was strong. Spike could hold her. Spike would have her back. He would take care of her, if she needed him too. For a few moments, she could just be. Nobody could hold her like he did.
He gently licked her scar, and she shivered with pleasure. He did it again, and a moan escaped her.
“You like that?” He whispered.
She nodded. He continued to lick and nibble the scar, increasing the pressure. His hands began rubbing her back, taking a few seconds to rub the knots out of her muscles. This was soothing and comfortable. A deep undercurrent of passion flowed between them, but this wasn’t about simply getting off. This was about reaffirming their connection. This was about coming back to each other.
Buffy arched her neck, imploring him to do more. Every part of Spike wanted to give her what she obviously wanted, but he was afraid. He didn’t trust himself anymore. He bit her gently with blunt teeth to feel her out, and she responded positively. “Spike,” she breathed. She wiggled against him. She wanted to feel him against her flushed skin.
Buffy leaned back slightly and tugged at his shirt until he lifted his arms and allowed her to pull it off. Then she quickly tugged her own off. She was wearing a plain, white bra, but before she could remove it, Spike bit her nipple gently through the material and rolled his tongue around it. Buffy reached behind her to undo the clasp, but Spike put his hand up and stopped her.
He looked at her, his blue eyes open and vulnerable. “Buffy, are you sure you?”
“Yes, very sure.”
“They could be home any second.”
“I don’t care,” she said as she dropped her bra onto the floor. She took a moment to study him, and the injuries, scars, and bruises made her wince. “I had no
“idea you were still this injured,” she murmured.
He shrugged, “I’ll heal.” He pulled her against him again, and resumed nuzzling her neck.
“Do it,” she whispered in his ear.
Spike pushed the fear and doubts out of his mind. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not again. Not like this. She wouldn’t let him. He wouldn’t let himself. He felt his face shift, and leaned back to look at her again. Give her another chance to back out. She smiled and pulled him against her again.
He slowly and carefully pierced her skin, afraid to hurt her. The second her sweet blood touched his mouth, his head started to spin. He hadn’t been able to eat at all, lately. Every time he tried to, he was reminded of how his victims tasted. But her blood was different. Instead of feeling guilt and a dilapidating remorse, he felt love.
He took only small, measured sips, still wary of hurting her. With each swallow he could feel his strength returning. She was so close to him that her strong heartbeat echoed inside his chest, and it felt as though he was becoming a part of her. He could feel her pulse in his body, and his breathing matched hers. Her long, soft hair covered his head, a curtain between him and the rest of the world. He could taste everything in her blood. He wasn’t just swallowing her life force; he was taking her into his body. Her memories, her love, her fears, her hate, her pain, her desire, her arousal, her strength, and her fire.
Buffy closed her eyes and moaned in bliss. This was good. This was right. She could feel each drop he took from her, and the crescendo was building slowly, but she knew it would be intense. She felt her pulse increase and her breathing came more rapidly. A slow suffusion of pleasure spread through her body. She felt warm and slightly light-headed.
She tensed, and then half moaned, half screamed, as the orgasm overtook her. She clutched Spike so tightly that she knew there would be fresh bruises against his pale skin, but he didn’t seem to mind. As soon as her body stopped shaking, he extracted her fangs and licked the bite until the blood flow slowed, then stopped.
He collapsed backward on bed, and she fell on top of him, her breathing still ragged and uneven. They didn’t move. They didn’t want to disrupt the moment. They didn’t want to go back to the world and the battle.
“Come with me,” she finally whispered.
“Where are we going?”
“Up to my room.”
She tried to stand, but her legs were shaky.
“I’ll carry you,” Spike offered.
“Thank you.”
The End.