Xander’s words hung in the air, like a hot air balloon coasting through the bright blue sky. Spike stared owlishly at the brunette, his electric blue eyes unblinking as he tried to digest just what Xander had said. Even as he stared, the smell of the woman--cheap perfume, cheap whiskey, and sex--stung his nose. An irrational sense of betrayal surged up in him, making his eyes flash gold and a low growl vibrate his chest.
Xander heard it. Felt the thrill that passed through him at the possessiveness of it. Spike was going to make him pay for his indiscretion in the alley with that girl. Fear and excitement warred inside him, making him forget about his promise to himself that they needed to talk. There was no need for talking when those eyes staring at him were burning hot with anger and lust, no need for words that really didn’t mean anything at all. They were just that. Words. Little groups of letters that people threw around without really thinking about what they were saying. Promises were made and forgotten almost as quickly as they were said. “I love you” only meant as much as the person saying them. Little lies that were spoken to make someone feel better or cut them down. Whatever their purpose, they didn’t mean anything.
What mattered was what he was seeing in Spike’s eyes. The eyes told everything, if you knew how to look. And the blonde vamp made it easy. Everything he felt or was feeling swirled through the blue orbs at any given moment. They could freeze and burn from one second to the next. His face could tell a story that there were no words for. Anger tensed his jaw, passion softened his mouth. Lust made him shiver. These things said much more than anything his voice could.
“Well?” Xander challenged, his voice husky with his own raging hormones. Everything balanced on that one, useless word. It was up to Spike which way they toppled.
Spike moved so fast that Xander didn’t even have time to blink. Before he knew what was happening, he was hauled up against the long, lean form of the blonde, their faces inches apart, his arms throbbing slightly with pain from Spike’s grip. Fear, sharp and cold, pushed through his arousal at the twisted rage on the face staring at him. He was an inch or so taller than Spike, but it seemed to him that the vamp was looking down his nose at him.
“Did it feel good, whelp? Fucking a woman you barely know to try to purge yourself? Didn’t work, did it?” Okay, Xander thought, maybe words aren’t as useless as I thought. Put the way Spike said them, the brunette felt cheap and dirty, worthless. He made a half-hearted effort to pull away, to no avail. Spike’s fingers were like vises on his arms, and the more he struggled the tighter Spike held him. “Was she slick and ready for you? Did her heat burn you? Did you even cum? If you did, I bet it left you wanting, didn’t it? Did you scream my name? Anya’s? Or maybe even Buffy’s? Who did you have to think of to make you orgasm? Hm? Tell me, boy. Who was going through your mind while you squeezed your eyes shut and emptied into her?”
Each sentence brought Spike’s face closer to his; each word lanced through Xander, bringing him shame. To tell the truth, he had thought of them all. But it was one name that had vibrated through his head as his cock pulsed inside the woman.
“You,” he spat out in a hoarse whisper, his lone dark eye glaring at the blonde. “You. Does that make you happy? Does it give you a thrill that I had to think of you to get off with a woman?” Spike tilted his head to the side, the anger in no way slipping from his face, and contemplated that.
“No. It doesn’t,” he said, after a minute. Then, to the brunette’s surprise, Spike started to haul him towards the bedroom, his face a set mask of determination. Having no idea what the vampire had in mind, he struggled, real fear at what Spike might do making him desperate. Unfortunately, Spike’s grip was as strong as ever, and Xander’s lack of eating had cut down on his strength considerably. He had no choice but to stumble behind as the blonde pulled him into the bedroom.
Surprise registered, but just barely, when Spike didn’t pause at the bed. He walked, instead, towards the bathroom, shoving Xander into the tub as soon as they were in the tiny room. The water hit the brunette full in the face when Spike cranked it on, not bothering to check for temperature. It was icy and he yelped involuntarily. Keeping one hand fisted in Xander’s shirt, Spike reached out and adjusted the temperature until it was bearable for the human. Then, he turned eyes that were flashing between gold and blue and sneered at him.
“Let’s wash this stink off, shall we?”
Before Xander could respond, the sound of ripping fabric exploded. In seconds, he was naked, the water beating over his chest. He just stood, shocked, while Spike grabbed the soap, lathering up his skin in swift, concise movements. His chest, arms and legs were cleaned with a businesslike quality that made his feeling of being cheap even more pronounced. He smacked at Spike’s hands a few times, but the blonde ignored him. He then found himself flipped around, his chest pressed hard to the cool tile of the shower as Spike gave the same treatment to his back and ass. He tried to push against the wall, stuggling to get away, but, the vampire just slammed him back up against it, using the hand he had splayed across the human’s back to keep him in place.
“Stop it, Spike,” he said in a low, warning tone. He laughed at himself in his head, since, honestly, what the hell was he going to do? And really, part of him didn’t want Spike to stop, the evidence being in the way his cock was starting to stand at attention, begging for those soapy, cool fingers to slide around it and clean the rest of that woman away.
“No. You want to act like a whore, that’s your right. But I will not be forced to smell it.” The words, angry and clipped, were also coated with that hot lust that always sprung up between them without notice. Xander felt the sting of tears at Spike’s words, and he made another wrenching attempt to get free.
Only to gasp in surprise when he impaled himself on one of Spike’s long, calloused fingers. They both went very still, neither having noticed that Spike’s hands had been paying so much attention to that particular part of Xander’s anatomy. A low groan escaped Xander’s throat and his hips instinctively thrust back, seeking friction. His erection had sprung to full life with the penetration, and now it jutted out against the cool tile he was pushed against.
“Jesus, Xander,” Spike gasped, marveling at the heat surrounding his unmoving finger. They were both standing in the tub, Spike only a hairs-breadth away from Xander’s warm, water-slicked body. The blonde’s clothes were soaked, his hair damp from the spray, but he didn’t notice. All he could comprehend at this moment was the achingly thin form of the human in front of him, and the way he was practically begging Spike to take him. He pushed his finger deeper inside Xander’s willing body, growling when the brunette practically sobbed with pleasure. Still, he hesitated in stripping himself and taking what they both wanted. Xander had to say it. He had to say the words without regret or disgust, before Spike would satisfy them both. He pressed close to the taut back in front of him and reached around to slide a soapy hand over Xander’s rock hard shaft. The brunette shuddered, his eye drifting closed and his fingers fisting on the tiled wall. He thrust back again, then forward, whimpering in heated want.
“Say it, Xan. Say it,” Spike whispered in Xander’s ear, then took the lobe in his mouth and nibbled it lightly.
“Oh God,” Xander gasped, his movements becoming frantic. He was so close, Spike could smell it, taste it. He gave Xander’s cock a warning squeeze, and felt it jerk in his fingers.
“That’s not what I meant, boy. You know what I want. What I need.” He listened to Xander’s heart thud in his chest, could smell the rush of his blood as his orgasm approached. He pinned Xander even more securely against the wall and stilled his movements completely. He had to hear it. And the brunette wouldn’t get to cum until he did.
Xander moaned in protest and tried to wriggle his body to get Spike to start the delicious friction once more, but the blonde was immovable behind him. The feel of Spike’s hand on his dick, but not moving, was torture. Just as the single finger penetrating his ass, but not moving either was, as well. The people that ran the Spanish Inquisition could have learned a lot from William the Bloody.
“Spike!” he hissed, the hushed tones of his voice a little too close to a whine for his liking.
“Say it!” Spike insisted, his teeth biting none to gently on Xander’s earlobe.
“Oh, fuck. Please Spike. Please. I want . . .”
“What?” Spike was growing impatient, his own erection becoming painful in his soaking wet jeans. He rubbed the denim-covered hardness with aching slowness over the globe of Xander’s ass, making the brunette whimper again.
“You. I want . . . oh god . . . you.” Xander was pretty sure he was going to die if Spike didn’t do something soon. The growl that erupted in the blonde’s chest at his words vibrated against his back. He suddenly found himself whipped back around to face the vampire, the steady hands on his shoulders the only thing keeping him from falling.
“Show me.” Spike challenged, dropping his arms to his sides once he was sure that Xander wouldn’t slip. The words hung between them, much like Xander’s first challenge when he’d walked inside. But, this time, Xander held the balance in his hands.
They looked at each other and their eyes locked, hot with unsatisfied want. They were so close, but still far enough away not to touch, the steadily cooling water spraying them both. Spike’s borrowed clothes clung to his lean, hard body, making Xander’s mouth go dry. The vampire’s face was openly full of desire, but, his eyes, while hot, were guarded. He was waiting for Xander to make the decision.
And with a heavy swallow, it was made.
Xander slowly raised a hand and traced it over the sharp planes of the blonde’s face and neck, smiling when Spike’s Adam’s apple moved under his fingers. As he raised his second hand to start working on the buttons of Spike’s shirt, he started to slowly turn them until their positions were reversed. Spike allowed it, his eyes never leaving Xander’s face. His hands twitched at his sides; he wanted to reach out and touch all the delicious naked skin in front of him, but was restraining himself. This was Xander’s show right now, and he would let him do as he willed.
He hissed in an unneeded breath when the human’s warm mouth glided over his collarbone. Long, hot fingers worked tirelessly on the buttons, struggling to get them through the wet material to expose more of the deliciously pale chest to his watering mouth’s caresses. A flat nipple was captured between sharp, teasing teeth and Spike had to force all his control to keep from taking over. When the other nipple was similarly latched onto, he couldn’t keep the hand that raised and buried itself in the dark tresses of the other man from doing it. He pressed lightly on the back of Xander’s head, encouraging him to take the bud fully between his lips, which the brunette happily obliged. His warm, wet tongue laved the hard nubbin, making Spike’s knees threaten to buckle.
“God, yes,” he gasped, banging his head against the tile behind him. His eyes nearly crossed with the pleasure that was singing from where Xander’s mouth feasted on him to the steady throb in his groin. Unable to not touch any longer, he slid his other hand over the slick shoulders of the human, testing the muscle rippling beneath the skin and moaning his approval. As the shirt finally slipped from his shoulders to land in a wet pile on the bottom of the tub, Xander’s mouth dipped lower to rasp his tongue across the well defined stomach of the vampire. Spike let out a gasped chuckle when he felt that tongue dart out to plunge into his navel.
His hips thrust forward when hot fingers brushed over the button of his fly, inviting Xander to open it. He breathed a sigh of relief when Xander did just that. The button came undone easily, followed quickly by the zipper. Xander continued fucking Spike’s navel with his tongue while his work-roughened hands slid the sopping denim from his lean hips. It was a bit of a struggle to get them off Spike’s equally wet skin, but soon, the blonde was just as naked as the brunette.
Spike looked down to see Xander balancing on the lip of the tub, his dark, one-eyed gaze staring with appreciative hunger at the vampire’s thick cock. Spike captured his lip between his teeth and waited impatiently for Xander to get his fill of looking and get on to the good stuff.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Within just a couple of seconds, Xander reached out and traced a finger over the veined shaft, memorizing the lines before finally--finally--fisting his big hand around it. Spike went rigid with anticipation, just the feel of the rough hand around his sensitive flesh almost enough to send him skyrocketing into oblivion.
Xander was enthralled by all the sleek muscle shifting and bunching under the pale-as –moonlight-skin. He ran his hand over the thick member in his fist, tracing a finger across the weeping tip, and licked his lips in anticipation. He leaned forward, angling the pulsing cock towards him, bringing it to his mouth with agonizing slowness. A constant rumble was vibrating through Spike’s body, and he glanced up to lock eyes with him as he opened his lips. Now, it was Spike’s turn to whimper when Xander’s hot, wet mouth slid over his flesh. His knees nearly buckled all over again with pleasure and his eyes crossed. A trembling hand shot out to bury itself again in Xander’s hair, his fingers fisting almost painfully in the dark mass.
Xander sucked greedily on Spike’s flesh, taking him in until the tip bumped the back of his throat, before pulling back, his tongue swirling lovingly around the bulbous head before sliding it inside again.
“Oh. Shit. Xander.” Spike’s raspy, lust-coated voice spurred him on. He wanted to hear more of it, the reverence he detected in the words soothing his battered soul. His hand followed his lips up the shaft then back down, while the other hand rose to cup and fondle Spike’s heavy sac. Spike gasped and mewled with the white-hot ecstasy shooting through him and he thrust his hips faster. His orgasm built with each wet thrust into Xander’s mouth, the hot squeeze of the boy’s hand around his balls intensifying every sensation.
Soon, he couldn’t hold it back any more. His other hand fisted in Xander’s hair as well, holding his head still so he could pump into that steadily sucking mouth at his own pace. Xander let him take over, sliding the hand on the vampire’s balls further back to slip a finger inside his body, remembering how that had sent the blonde over the edge the other night. The results were gratifying.
With a roar that rivaled any he had ever heard before, Spike’s body stiffened as his cock pulsed thick streams of cum into Xander’s eagerly awaiting mouth. The brunette hungrily swallowed each salty drop, not releasing the softening shaft until he was sure there was no more. Then he looked up at Spike, a sudden shyness overtaking him as the softening shaft slipped from his lips. Spike was trembling as his fingertips released their grip on Xander’s hair and slid to his stubble-roughened cheeks. A wave of tenderness washed over him at the shy smile Xander gave him, and with a gentle tug he brought the brunette to his feet. Their mouths came together in a gentle stroking of tongues. Heat still burned beneath their skin, making Spike harden with renewed arousal even as the last aftershocks of his orgasm passed over him.
Spike sucked Xander’s tongue into his mouth to gather the taste of himself there. Xander moaned deep in his throat and thrust his tongue eagerly against the vampire’s. He pressed his palms on either side of the blonde’s shoulders and leaned into him, rubbing his needy shaft against Spike’s. Spike pulled back from the kiss, allowing Xander to gasp for air, and pinned him with eyes so hot the human thought he might melt from it.
“My turn,” Spike growled, shooting out a hand to twist off the water. “I want to be in you, Xander. In that bed out there. I want to fuck you until you’re screaming.” What a fool he had been to think that words meant nothing, Xander thought. Those words, spoken in that guttural, accented voice, filled a void in him that had been empty for far too long.
Unable to make his tongue work to form an answer, Xander merely nodded. Spike growled again, his eyes bright with promise. He slid his hands over Xander’s shoulders and arms to link his fingers with the human’s. Then, with one last heated glance, he stepped around and out of the tub, tugging Xander gently along behind him. The chill of the air on Xander’s wet skin did nothing to diminish the heat coursing through him. He was kind of surprised the water on his flesh didn’t sizzle and evaporate from the internal furnace burning him.
Spike led him silently to the bed, turning him and pushing him gently until he was seated, then finally lying across the thick comforter. Spike crawled over him, planting his knees on the outside of Xander’s thighs and his hands on either side of his head. They stared at each other for a long, hot moment, fear and anticipation clouding Xander’s eye as he looked up into the gaze of his new lover. Then, with a moan, Spike lowered his head and claimed Xander’s lips once more, gently nipping the soft mouth under his with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.
His cock was pressed against Xander’s stomach, the tip of the brunette’s erection brushing invitingly against his balls. Xander thrust up, seeking his own much needed release. Spike’s words from the bathroom swirled around in his head, making his movements erratic. Spike pulled back and grinned at the brunette’s eagerness, before slipping off his body. Xander groaned in disappointment, his hand instinctively wrapping around his thick shaft in search of relief. Spike was back within seconds, a tube of lubricant in one hand, his other slapping Xander’s away.
“No. I’m going to make you cum,” he growled, shoving two lube-slicked fingers deep into Xander’s unsuspecting body. With a startled cry, Xander did just that. His eye rolled back in his head, fingers clutching desperately at the comforter underneath him, and then his semen splashed over his stomach, his body arching into the thrust of Spike’s fingers in his anus. He shot in long, thick streams, the intensity of it making him writhe.
Spike watched the beauty of the orgasm play out on Xander’s face. His fingers didn’t stop moving until the brunette’s cock stopped jerking. He slipped them out, applied more of the lube he’d found in the nightstand, and rubbed it generously over his own cock. Then, while Xander was still basking in the euphoria of the hardest orgasm he’d ever had, Spike lifted Xander’s legs and opened him up. The tip of his slick penis slid easily between Xander’s ass cheeks, the sensation making the brunette gasp in surprise. His gaze shot to Spike’s, just as Spike secured his arms behind Xander knees to hold him open and in place. Then, with deliberate, agonizing slowness, he started to push.
As Spike’s thick head pushed past the natural resistance of Xander’s anal passage, the brunette’s cock stirred back to life. He heard the rip of material as his clutching fingers stressed the seams of the comforter, but, he didn’t care. Not when Spike was stretching him, filling him so completely he thought he might pass out from the pleasure of it.
Spike had to close his eyes and clench his jaw to the point of pain to keep himself from just thrusting like a maniac inside the warm, yielding body surrounding him, inch by silky inch. Xander jerked beneath him, trying to force him fully inside, but he resisted. He wanted to savor every second of this first entry, needing to etch the memory of Xander’s willingness and unabashed response into his brain.
They both moaned in relief when Spike finally slid home. Any pain that Xander had experienced as Spike invaded him had been pushed aside by the pleasure of being taken. Now, as his body adjusted, it felt as if the blonde had been made for him. He was filled to completion, Spike’s weight on top of him, pressing him into the mattress and making him feel oddly cherished and wanted. Spike’s hot, near-black gaze opened to lock with his, the sheer need in it making tears sting Xander’s eye again. When one escaped and slid from his eye to fall to the comforter, Spike’s brows drew together in concern and he raised a finger to trace the path the moisture had taken.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he rasped, forcing himself still again. He wanted nothing more than to plow into the brunette, but he held back, hating himself for hurting him.
Xander quickly shook his head, reaching up and pulling Spike’s head down to his and kissing him desperately. He broke away and stared deeply into the eyes staring at him in such confusion and smiled.
“I just . . . I feel so much. I haven’t felt anything in a long time,” he admitted, blushing despite himself. It wasn’t manly to blush, but he also supposed it wasn’t manly to be the bitch either, but, here he was. Blushing and taking it up the ass. At the moment, he didn’t care too much about the latter, but the former gave him pause. Spike grinned, relief evident in his sharp features. The way the smile made him look so young stole Xander’s breath. It caught again when Spike crushed his smiling mouth down over his, thrusting his tongue inside the hot cavern and finally pistoning his hips. Xander gasp was lost to the kiss, and he arched up to meet Spike’s thrusts.
Hard and long, Spike plunged over and over into the young body beneath him, swiveling his pelvis to elicit tiny moans of pleasure that he eagerly swallowed with his kiss. Xander’s cock was trapped between their bodies, sweat from the brunette’s skin making their friction against it pleasurably slick. His hands flew over Spike’s skin, his legs wrapped around the blonde’s waist, urging him, pushing him harder. When his second orgasm started, he clenched tight around Spike’s shaft, as the ripples of relief gave way to a tidal wave of bliss. Spike gasped and pulled away from the kiss to bury his lips in Xander’s throat. He bit hard with his blunt, human teeth over the pulse beating rapidly against his skin. Xander’s arms tightened around Spike and a guttural cry filled the air as his pleasure impossibly intensified. He threw his head back and strained against the blonde, wanting this to go on forever.
Spike’s movements sped up as his own orgasm tightened his sac. The feel of Xander fluttering around him, his anal muscles clenching him tightly and trying to keep him buried inside was too much for him to resist any longer. With a muffled roar against the salty skin of Xander’s throat, he came, his thick shaft pulsing deep inside the body holding him. Shudders wracked them both as they collapsed together, Spike still buried inside. Arms tightened and mouths met in a long, wet kiss. The only sound was their labored breaths as they calmed, their tired, satisfied bodies curling together. Spike finally withdrew and shifted their positions until he was spooning Xander’s back. He wrapped his arms around the brunette’s chest and buried his nose in the nape of his neck, his shaft nestling cozily against the slit of Xander’s buttocks. He listened as the human’s breathing slowed and deepened, a smile touching his lips at how much trust Xander was showing him right now.
He lightly played his fingers along Xander’s ribs and scowled, the reminder that the brunette had not been taking care of himself annoying him. Things needed to change around here, he thought, as sleep nagged at him. Xander was going to start eating if Spike had to tie food to his dick to get him to do it.
With that rather arousing image in mind, Spike slid his hardening length into Xander’s body once more, nuzzled closer and let the human’s even breathing pull him into sleep.
Been walking my mind to an easy time, my back turned towards the sun
Lord knows when the cold wind blows it’ll turn your head around
Well, there’s hours of time on the telephone line to talk about things to come
Sweet dreams and flying machines in pieces on the ground
With a soft click, Buffy turned off the car radio and looked out across the bustling traffic on New Hampshire Avenue. That had been one of her mother’s favorite songs while she was growing up, and she hadn’t realized how depressing it was until right now.
Of course, it could also be how the song seemed to sum up everything she had been feeling for the last six months. Spike’s sacrifice and Willow’s spell had opened up a whole new world for her, and, unfortunately, she didn’t have a clue how she was supposed to acclimate to it. Faith had, though. She had grabbed the new life with both hands and was God knew where with Robin right now. Buffy would get postcards occasionally from out of the way places, little holes in the wall that no normal person would want to visit. But that didn’t deter Faith. She wanted to see it all, and she wanted Robin to show it to her.
Buffy felt a little flare of jealousy at Faith’s ease of transition into their newfound ‘normalness.’ Then again, she supposed that the dark-haired girl had had some practice. After all, she had never been ‘The One.’ Buffy had been the Slayer before Faith was called, and even though the Slayer line hadn’t gone through her anymore, she had still been considered the active Slayer by the Watchers Council, and everybody else, for that matter. Including herself.
And maybe that was why she was having a hard time feeling like she fit anywhere these days.
With a sigh, she shifted in her seat, her eyes roaming around and taking in the neat houses and the shopping center across the street, but not really seeing it. She tried to imagine the families inside, with their jobs and their fights and their everyday normalcies that she hadn’t really had since she’d been fifteen. For so long, she had been the Chosen One. How was she supposed to just go back to being ‘normal? ’
God, Spike. I wish you were here, she thought, feeling the sting of tears start behind her eyes. If anybody would have been able to understand what she was going through, it would have been him. He would have smiled at her, looked at her with those blue, blue eyes, and told her it was alright. And even if it wasn’t, she would have believed him. But he wasn’t here. And she just felt so lost.
It had been a long six months, looking for the other Slayers. Some of them were so young, babies really. And that just made Buffy feel so old. With each girl they found, her sense of uselessness deepened, intensified. She supposed she was kind of like Seven of Nine in Voyager, only reversed. Seven had to figure out a way to become an individual after being one of many. And Buffy had to learn how to accept being one of many and still be an individual. And now you KNOW you’ve been spending too much time around Andrew, she thought with a snort.
The slamming of a screen door had her turning her head to watch Dawn walking over to the car. A ghost of a smile drifted across her mouth at the woman her sister was becoming. Tall, lithe, beautiful. As smart as a whip and a whiz at research. She had no problems living the nomadic lifestyle they had adopted since leaving the Hellmouth. She helped Giles with finding the Watchers that hadn’t been in the building when the Council Headquarters had been destroyed, and she could do the spell to find the new Slayers. She was taking an online course to get her diploma, and, amazingly, was acing all of her classes. Buffy had never been more proud of her.
“Hey,” Dawn said, coming to a stop next to the open car door. It was then that Buffy realized she was carrying a small cooler.
“Hey. What’s that?” Dawn glanced down at it, then handed it to Buffy.
“Mrs. Simpson thought you might need some sandwiches for the trip. I think there’s also some soda and cookies in there.”
“That’s so nice. Tell her thank you for me.” Mrs. Simpson was the mother of the newest girl they’d found. Mary, a girl with wild, fiery red curls and an infectious smile. And a brother that had been killed by a vampire. Their reception when they had gotten here had been a lot different than the last house they’d been at. At that house, the father had chased them from his property with a gun big enough to take down a Fyarl demon. Then again, they had been deep in the backwoods of West Virginia. They were in Maryland now, just on the outskirts of Washington, D.C.
Mrs. Simpson had listened to them as they explained the situation. She’d sat silently, clutching her daughter’s hand until they finished. Then she had smiled, said ‘thank you,’ and invited them all to stay for as long as they needed. Apparently, the idea of a vampire slayer in the family made her extremely happy. Mary, too. They both just wished it had happened a little sooner. Maybe her brother could have been saved.
Dawn watched as her sister poked inside the cooler, and noticed the age lining her face. A wave of sadness rushed over the younger girl and she desperately hoped that Buffy found whatever she was looking for on this trip. Her life had been given back to her, but she wasn’t happy about it.
“Do you ever wish that you hadn’t left him?” There was no need to specify which ‘him’ Dawn was asking about. It had been a subject that they’d danced around for months, neither willing to talk about it and neither ready to deal with their grief over losing the blonde vampire. Buffy sighed, closed the cooler, and looked up at her sister.
“I wish I had dragged him out of there,” she answered honestly. No, she had never wished that she had died with him, but that he had lived to be with her. So much left undone, unsaid. That always seemed to be the way with her and the men that she loved.
“Well, do you have everything?” Dawn cleared her throat, and quickly changed the subject. They could only talk about that day, about Spike, like this. In little spurts of questions and answers that didn’t really say anything.
“Yeah, I think so. I have my clothes, the money Giles doesn’t think I know he shoved in my purse, maps. Food.” She held up the cooler and the girls shared a smile.
“And?” Dawn prompted, rolling her eyes when Buffy looked lost.
“Oh, yeah. My cell phone and charger. Good to go.” She gave a thumbs up. “You’re sure you don’t want to come with? Xander would love to see you.” Dawn gave a little shake of her head.
“No. Not this time. You need this time to, you know, figure out stuff.”
“Is that a not-so-subtle dig at my mental state?” Buffy asked with a arched brow. Dawn’s azure eyes widened and she frantically shook her head once more.
“No. Of course not. It’s just, you know, you haven’t had much time to deal with everything. And, we’ve been moving around a lot . . .”
“Dawn, it’s okay. I was kidding.” Buffy held up a hand to shush her, and chuckled a bit at the blush that spread across her sister’s face.
“Oh. Well, fine,” Dawn pouted, but it quickly turned into a smile. Buffy shook her head and slid out of the car, then drew the younger woman into her arms.
“Take care, okay? Won’t have me around looking out for you.” They squeezed each other tight, each fighting the burn of tears behind their eyes.
“I will. You too. I love you, Buffy.”
“I love you, too, Dawnie.” They held onto each other for a long moment, neither quite ready to let go and begin the first long separation they’d had since Buffy had died.
“Tell Xander I miss him,” Dawn said when they finally pulled apart.
“Okay.” Buffy got back into the car and took one last look at the sister that had grown up overnight on her. Then, she closed the door and cranked the engine, waving before pulling carefully into traffic. Dawn watched as Mrs. Simpson’s son’s car made its way down the road, and struggled to keep sight of it. She felt the sadness of seeing her sister go, but no resentment that Buffy was doing it. The last year or so of her life had demanded that she grow up, and she saw a lot of things differently than she used to.
She had watched as the impact of what Willow’s spell had done really started to hit Buffy. The SITs were Slayers now, and quite capable of training the new girls. Dawn had become Giles’ assistant and didn’t really need a mother anymore. Faith was off with Wood, doing whatever it was they were doing. There was nothing for her to fight. Nothing to focus on. Nobody to love. Spike’s death had hit her hard, harder than even Dawn could understand. And she knew that all of it combined made her sister feel useless, old, and worst of all, alone.
So, no, she didn’t feel any resentment. If anything, she felt hope. Hope that Buffy and Xander could help each other and maybe, finally, start to heal.
“Dawn. I need your assistance with that infernal machine.” A smile quirked her mouth at Giles’ ongoing reluctance to embrace the computer age.
“Coming.” She took one last look in the direction her sister had driven, whispered “goodbye,” then turned to go back into the house to help Giles.
~*~*~
Xander woke the next morning after the most restful sleep he had ever had. Maybe not the most sleep, since Spike had awakened him several times during the night. But the sleep he’d gotten had definitely been restful.
A smile played around his lips as he stretched luxuriously, his hand reaching out to the opposite side of the mattress. When it didn’t encounter the Xander-warmed body of the vampire, his lone eye popped open. Sure enough, that side of the bed was empty. A mild sense of panic raced over him, but he pushed it back. Spike wouldn’t just leave; he must be out in the apartment somewhere.
With that thought in mind, he quickly rolled out of bed, taking a second to make sure his eye patch was still in place, and padded naked out of the bedroom. The smell of cooking food and the soft sound of the kitchen radio hit him immediately. Curiosity replaced the last of his panic and he moved toward the tiny space, laughing out loud when he got to the door.
Spike was there, alright, and as naked as Xander was, save for the apron tied around his waist. He was singing along with the radio, occasionally using the spatula he was holding as a microphone or an air guitar. When he heard Xander laugh, he merely glanced over at him and flashed a grin, then went back to his cooking/singing.
“That’s quite the fashion statement, there, Spike,” Xander said when the song came to an end.
“Yeah, well, didn’t want to accidentally burn my bits and pieces, now, did I?”
“You could have always put on a pair of pants,” Xander suggested, only to be presented with an arched brow. The look in Spike’s eyes started a thousand different things going through the human’s brain, and none of it had to do with food. His body’s immediate response had the blonde smirking with approval. Instead of coming over and doing something about Xander’s predicament, however, he turned back to the pan, and Xander resigned himself to the delay of his gratification. “So, uh, whatcha cooking there?”
“Found a couple of steaks in the freezer. They looked like they hadn’t been there too long,” Spike explained, taking the meat out of the pan and putting them on a paper towel-lined plate. “Hungry?”
How was it that one little word could have so many different connotations? Xander had to struggle to breathe for a moment at the heat in the eyes on him. “Y-yeah. Starved.” A wicked grin was his answer and he found himself breathless again.
“C’mon then. Get it while it’s hot.” Spike moved the steaks to two separate plates and handed one to Xander, then went about heating a cup of blood. “Go. Sit. Eat,” he told the brunette, waving him out of the kitchen. Xander grabbed a knife and fork and went to sit on the floor in front of the coffee table. From there, he could eat his steak and watch Spike as he moved around the kitchen. He realized it was more than a little strange that he was getting ready to eat a steak that had been prepared by his newly acquired vampire lover. But, even more strangely, it was the first time he had felt normal in a long, long time.
“You’re not eating,” Spike observed as he walked out of the kitchen and settled himself down on the floor, as well. He gave Xander a pointed look, then picked up his own utensils and started to quickly slice the blood red meat into bite-sized pieces. With a smile, Xander cut into the meat and was surprised to see that it wasn’t mooing like Spike’s was. He glanced up in time to see Spike dip a piece of his steak into his cup of blood and, amazingly, didn’t lose his appetite. In fact, he was staring transfixed as the blonde brought the bite to his lips. No, he didn’t lose his appetite at all. In fact, if anything, he felt it spring to life in ways he had never quite expected.
Images of Spike picking up that cup and drizzling the thick, crimson liquid over Xander’s body and following the tracks it left on his skin popped happily into his mind. Of course, that had something else popping up in response. He was so caught up in these thoughts that he didn’t realize Spike was watching him with a look caught between amusement and annoyance with just a touch of arousal to make it hot.
“Do I have to tie you down and force-feed you, pet?”
“W-what?” Xander blinked, the chocolate brown of his eye swirling with want.
“Eat. Or you won’t get to do any of those delicious things you’re thinking about to my hot little bod.” Xander felt his face heat, with embarrassment at getting caught, or desire, he wasn’t sure. He swallowed hard and shoved a bite of the steak into his mouth. As soon as the flavor of the meat exploded on his tongue, he realized that he was famished. The next bite followed quickly, then the next, until Spike was satisfied that he would finish the whole thing. “There’s a good Xander,” he purred, his voice low and husky. Then, he went back to his own food and neither spoke again until the plates were clean.
“That was good. Thank you,” Xander said as he pushed his plate away. He felt like a--to use one of Spike’s terms--wanker for acting so politely. They were sitting on the floor, naked, eating red meat. He felt like he should be pounding his fists against his chest like some kind of primate. Spike flashed him a grin and snorted.
“You’re welcome.” He picked up his mug to finish the last vestiges of blood in the bottom and had to shake his head. If this wasn’t the most ludicrous thing. He had just spent the night getting to know Xander in ways that only the boy’s doctor had known him before and here they were, acting like they’d just finished high tea with the Queen. Bloody ridiculous, if you asked him. “So, are you working tonight?” And damned if he wasn’t playing into it!
“Yeah,” Xander nodded, his eye darting around the room and skittering across Spike every few seconds. Gotta love the awkward morning after, he thought. Even though they hadn’t been awkward with each other a few minutes before, it now seemed to be seeping into Xander’s pores. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what had happened--he just didn’t know how to deal with all the questions that were suddenly swirling around his brain.
Spike let the silence fall around them once more and waited. He could practically feel the tension from the brunette and started to feel his own temper rising. The feeling that he might be about to get the brush-off occurred to him and he didn’t like it. Not one little bit. With a sudden move that made Xander jump, he snatched his cigarettes off the table and extracted one from the pack, staring at the top of the brunette’s head the whole time. He lit it, then slapped his Zippo closed and tossed it on back onto the table.
“What?” he bit out, taking a deep drag and holding it in his dead lungs for a long moment before releasing it. Xander’s head shot up and he attempted a grin that didn’t quite grow to fruition.
“I was just . . .” he trailed off, not wanting to sound needy and scared, but needing to know.
“What?” Spike practically snarled.
“W-what did last night mean?” Xander let out in a rush. He nervously reached out and picked up the lighter, shifting it through his fingers.
“What do you want it to mean?” Spike returned, managing to keep his voice level. He held a breath as he waited for Xander to quit playing with the damn lighter and look at him.
“I dunno. What do you want it to mean?” Bloody hell, Spike thought when Xander’s gaze skittered back up to his. He refused to play these ridiculous games.
“Listen, whelp. It can mean whatever you want it to mean. It could be just a one time thing to take the edge off. We could just be shagging buddies. Doesn’t matter to me, as long as you don’t go squawking about how you can’t believe you let me touch you, or how disgusted you are with yourself.” His words had taken on the bitterness that had seemed to sing under his skin his first few days in the apartment.
“I wouldn’t . . .” the brunette started, trailing off at the pain he saw hovering just beneath the agitation in the vampire’s eyes. “I wouldn’t do that.” He shook off the awkwardness he’d been feeling and looked Spike straight in the eyes. There was no need for this, especially when Xander finally felt like life might actually be worth living again. He wasn’t sure why, but everything that had happened last night felt right. The way Spike had made love to him had made him feel secure and wanted and everything else he had forgotten how to feel.
“Then, don’t see what we need to talk about,” Spike decided, releasing the breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Xander grunted in agreement and rose to clean up the plates. Spike watched with appreciation the shift and bunch of the human’s muscles beneath his skin and quickly crushed out his cigarette. He caught Xander between the counter and his body and rubbed the slick head of his erection between the split in the brunette’s ass. Xander dropped the plates in the sink with a crash, and only half registered that they didn’t break. His moan of pleasure fell from lips that had gone slack with the sudden, crippling arousal that hit him the second the vampire had touched him.
“Enough talk. You have eight hours before work. Let’s see what we can do to keep ourselves busy, ay?” Spike’s voice was a low growl in his ear, the timbre causing goosebumps to pimple his skin. His head fell back against the blonde’s shoulder when Spike’s fist closed around his throbbing member and began to lightly stroke. “Do you want me to take you, boy? Right here? Bent over the counter like this. Trapped?” The most Xander could manage was a half nod and a groan in response. His knees were threatening to give out and he was more than glad that the firm, lean frame of the vampire was behind him.
He whimpered when he felt Spike’s other hand slide across his chest, scraping against his nipples and making them ache. He could feel the cool lips of the vampire playing along his throat and, without thought, leaned his head to the side to give him more access. Blunt human teeth nipped hard over his jugular, the thrill that shot through him at the very real danger making his cock jump in Spike’s hand.
“Ah, my little Xander likes to play on the wild side, eh? You like the idea that I could lose control any second and sink my fangs into your throat and suck you dry. I could make you cum without ever sliding into your warm willing body. At least with my cock.” The scrape of fang across his skin had Xander’s eye flying open to stare unseeing at the cabinets above the sink. True to the hoarsely murmured words, Xander’s sac tightened and the unexpected orgasm had his shaft pulsing in Spike’s hand, coating clever fingers with the sticky, thick fluid. Every muscle twitched with each jerk of the hand pumping his flesh.
Spike milked Xander’s orgasm to its completion before sliding his hand away and bringing it around to his own rigid shaft. He slid his hand over it, using Xander’s own cum to slick up his cock, then positioned himself at the human’s entrance. His tongue slid along the thin gash he had made in Xander’s skin, gathering up a few drops of blood that beaded there. Then, with one swift push, he was inside.
“Fuck,” Xander breathed, nearly crumpling with pleasure. If it weren’t for the counter in front and the vampire behind, he would have been a puddle on the floor. His hands curled around the faux wood top of the counter and gripped hard as he held on. Spike set a ruthless pace, slamming against him to the point of pain. He slammed back as hard as he could, wanting to take Spike inside, needing to feel him there.
Animalistic grunts filled the air, interspersed with growls that were only partially muffled against Xander’s neck. Sweat broke out on his skin and was lapped up to mix with the coppery taste of his blood on the vampire’s tongue. Spike’s hands flew over Xander’s skin until his fingers were linking with the brunette’s, the combined pressure making the counter creak ominously.
“So good. So fucking good,” Spike murmured against Xander’s throat, his smooth voice guttural with pleasure. He could feel the ripple of Xander’s back muscles against his chest, the way his anus constricted against the intrusion, tightening the sheath around it. Xander’s mewls of pleasure echoed in his ears, spurring him faster.
“Oh God!” Xander cried as his cock started to pulse again, and collapsed forward as his muscles gave out. Spike managed to catch him before he rapped his head on the cabinets, and just before the vampire’s own orgasm crashed into him with the force of a Mack truck hitting a wall. Spike’s knees buckled and they both went down, landing in a tangle of limbs on the cracked linoleum floor.
“If we keep this up, I’m not going to get to work at all,” Xander managed to gasp a few minutes later, after the twitches of their bodies slowed and he was able to form sentences again.
“Don’t go,” Spike said, in the second before his demanding mouth closed over Xander’s in a deep, hard kiss. It only took the first swipe of Spike’s tongue across his, the lingering taste of his own blood playing across his palate, for Xander to decide that was a damn good idea.
I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain
I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I’d see you, baby, one more time again
Over the next month or so, Xander watched his relationship with Spike alternate between ‘good friends that hung out together’ and ‘hot lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other.’ They went to the movies, argued about whether or not American or English football deserved the name, played pool, and shagged like rabbits. His favorite times, however, were when he would wake up in the middle of the night to feel Spike’s lips on his throat, Spike’s cock buried to the hilt inside him, and Spike’s hand wrapped almost reverently around his erection. The vampire would take his time bringing them off, pumping his hand and his hips slowly to carry them to a lazy, mind-numbing climax.
Xander had once thought that Anya was insatiable, always thinking about sex if they weren’t actually having it. He learned quickly, however, that the vengeance demon had nothing on Spike. He was ready and willing whenever, wherever.
Xander’s skin heated every time he remembered the first night Spike had accompanied him to the bar. It had been a slow night and Xander had gone into the back to get some ice, leaving the waitress to fend for herself for a few minutes. That few minutes had turned into thirty when Spike had found him in the back and pressed him against the ice machine. Weak protests had fallen from Xander’s lips as the vampire practically swallowed him whole, the ice in his mouth making the brunette yelp in surprised pleasure. The fingers he had pushed into Xander’s anus had been icy as well, sending the brunette into a spiral of blinding pleasure unlike anything he’d never felt before.
Afterward, Spike had slipped out the back to go home, leaving his lover to deal with the annoyed waitress, whose knowing eyes followed the brunette around for the rest of the night.
Other times Spike had gone to the bar, he had sat at the end, nursing a beer and chain smoking while passing Xander notes so suggestive the brunette was surprised the paper didn’t go up in flames. Words and sketches would tell him exactly what Spike had in mind for him when they got home, and it was all Xander could do to NOT drag the vampire out of there right that second. He would be forced to walk around with an erection pressing hard against his zipper, praying that none of the patrons noticed. He was constantly having to surreptitiously adjust himself so that the zipper of his jeans didn’t bite into his tender flesh.
After that first night, they never talked about their relationship. They were friends and lovers, helping each other heal a little more with each day they were together. Neither could remember a time when they had been so uninhibited, so unfettered by sadness or desperation. It was exhilarating. It was a good time for Xander. He could feel himself starting to heal with each day that passed. Could feel the pain of losing Anya fading until the memory of her face was a bittersweet kiss in his brain.
But there was one subject they never talked about. Buffy. Her name had been silently forbidden since the night they had first consummated their relationship. But no matter how much they didn’t talk about her, she was still there, hovering in both of their consciousnesses like a ghost. Sometimes, Xander would come upon Spike standing at the window, looking out into the night, his face sad, his eyes thoughtful. When the brunette would call his name, Spike would quickly smile and come to him, his heated kisses dispelling whatever doubts Xander might have been feeling. There were times when Xander, himself, would find her flooding his brain, insinuating herself into his Spike fantasies and making him whimper with the vivid threesomes he could imagine. Unfortunately, fantasy was not reality and he knew that if Spike ever broke down and let her know he was alive, Xander would be alone again. A thought that absolutely terrified him, but it was never talked about. Never even hinted at. She was taboo, off limits. Always there but never acknowledged. Like the crazy relative nobody wanted to talk about.
They went on like this, content in their relationship even if it wasn’t officially defined. Xander still went to the construction site, but his visits had lessened from every night to once a week. He was moving on, but he didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want Anya--wherever her spirit was--to think that he had forgotten. Spike would stay home when he went, in no way interested in returning to the scene of his entombment. But when Xander would return home, tears of grief staining his face, the blonde would hold and stroke him, whispering words of comfort until the air changed around them. Then they would share slow, wet kisses that always led to tender, heart-melting lovemaking.
Everything was going great, which--of course--should have made Xander a little wary. But for once, he didn’t second guess anything and was happy to ride the waves of couple-y bliss with Spike.
That was a big mistake.
It had started out as a typical Sunday in the Harris household. Xander was lazing in bed while Spike was downstairs working on laundry. It was raining outside, which just made the brunette want to snuggle down deeper under the blankets and sleep most of the day away. The only thing that would have made it more perfect would have been if he had a certain peroxided vampire to snuggle with. But for some unknown reason, Spike liked clean clothes. So, alas, he was alone.
He was just starting to drift back into a dreamy haze when he heard a knock on the door. Grinning, he slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers so as not to shock the neighbors and walked out of the bedroom to let Spike in. It amazed him how fast and hard arousal could shoot through him at the mere thought of the vampire. His shaft was already hard and throbbing, rubbing sensually against the cotton of his shorts. The whisper-soft sensation against his heated skin lent fuel to the thoughts running happily through his head.
“Now, what should the punishment be for forgetting your key . . . Buffy?” There, standing in his doorway, looking as beautiful and bright-eyed as ever, was the wrecking ball that would destroy Xander’s life.
“Gee, if I had know you would want to see Dawn so bad, I would have dragged her with me.”
“W-what?” He blinked once, his gaze unconsciously scanning the hall to make sure that Spike wasn’t anywhere around. His voice had also dropped in pitch, even though he knew it would do no good against Spike’s heightened senses. He didn’t give it but a few seconds before the blonde realized she was here and came running upstairs to see his lost love.
“You said you were going to punish me for not bringing my key. Dawn, key. Get it? I mean, I know it was a bad pun, but, come on, I’m out of practice.” She let out a little giggle and flashed another bright smile. It wavered under the rather dumbstruck look on her friend’s face. “That’s not happiness to see me, is it?” She dropped her eyes, fighting the sting in them. She hadn’t thought that he genuinely might not want to see her. Even though the last time he had talked to her, he’d told her not to come. She’d just thought it was Xander trying to be noble. So, she’d come. And now it seemed he hadn’t been noble, he really didn’t want to see her.
“Oh god, no. Buffy. Of course I’m happy to see you,” Xander quickly said, hating himself for making her eyes turn so sad. He pushed aside his fear of Spike coming up the stairs long enough to draw her tiny form into his arms, and allowed himself to get lost in her familiar scent and feel. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” Her voice was muffled against his bare shoulder, but he could hear the relief in it. Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist and let her eyes drift closed. It felt good to be in a man’s arms, to be held again. To feel the movement of hard muscle under smooth skin, the feel of a familiar male body against hers. She found herself squeezing him a little tighter, pressing herself just a little bit closer. He smelled clean and wonderful and just the way she remembered. She shifted a little in his embrace, trying to get even closer, and her eyes snapped open when she felt his hard length pushing against her softness. Arousal cut through her, hot and quick, weakening her knees and surprising her so badly she pulled away a little more quickly than she should have. “Were you expecting somebody?” she blurted, her face flaming with her unexpected reaction to him. Telling herself that it was just because she had been too long without a man, she pushed it away and forced herself to meet his eyes.
“What?” That panicked look was back again, and Buffy wondered at it.
“Well, considering you’re answering the door in your underwear, that kinda screams ‘guest.’ Of the carpe diem kind.” She wagged her brows, then frowned at the flare of jealousy that shot through her. Come on, Buffy, this is Xander, she reminded herself. But as he stood, looking like he was struggling for what to say, she looked at him. Really looked at him as something other than ‘just Xander.’ He’d lost a lot of weight since she’d last seen him and it suited him well. It sharpened his features and defined his chest in a way she had seen only once before. Pain made her blink at the comparison to Spike, but she couldn’t deny its truth. The eye patch gave him a sexy, piratical look and she so couldn’t believe that she was looking at her best friend this way.
“Yeah.” Xander perked up at the easy out she had unwittingly given him. “Actually, I was. Not that I’m not glad to see you,” he amended, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t too eager to get rid of her. He was torn between wanting to drag her inside and tell her everything that had been happening and finding the quickest way to get her to leave. “But, yeah. Definitely expecting someone.” His eyes shot down the hall as if to drive the point home.
Her bright smile was back, although, if he looked a closer, he would have noticed that it was a bit forced. She seemed genuinely happy for him and it made him feel like crap. Guilt tried to worm its way to the forefront of his mind, but he managed to ignore it. If Spike saw her . . . he didn’t even want to contemplate that. That thought awakened his curiosity at the fact that the vampire wasn’t up here yet. Worry was now pressing him, doubling his desire to get Buffy to leave.
“Well, alright. I should have called first, but, I wanted to surprise you. My bad.” He saw the disappointment in her eyes, could hear it under the brittle cheerfulness in her voice. But all he could do was force a smile. “I’m staying at the hotel on Orchid Street. Call me later and we’ll get together. Maybe I can meet your new honey.” And scratch the bitch’s eyes out, she thought, her smile never faltering even though she was stunned with the viciousness of her thoughts.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you later.” He tried to smile again, but he had a feeling the expression on his face didn’t quite qualify. Her brows drew together in confusion, but she didn’t press him to reveal whatever the big secret was.
“Okay, then. It’s so good to see you,” she said, before hugging him again. She kept this one brief, since she was still a bit flustered from the first one.
“You, too,” he answered, a real smile finally curving his lips. Without thinking, he raised a hand and brushed his fingers down the side of her face. They both ignored the tremor that light, friendly act caused. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay.” Buffy gave him one last smile, her eyes lingering a second longer, before she turned away and headed toward the stairs. Xander was quickly reminded of his state of undress by Mr. Johnson, who had apparently been present for the last part of his and Buffy’s conversation. The old man cocked a brow, but remained silent as he made his way to his apartment.
“Er, eh, yeah. You see, I was expecting . . .” Xander’s voice drifted off when he realized he was babbling.
“That feller that’s been staying here? I ran into him on my way out. Said to tell you he was heading out for cigarettes,” Mr. Johnson told him. The old man glanced over where Buffy had disappeared seconds before, disapproval evident in his eyes.
“I’m not a cheat,” Xander said without thinking. Mr. Johnson just huffed, shifted his bags, then walked inside without another word. The brunette was so busy glaring at his neighbor’s door that it took him a second to realize what the old man had said.
Spike wasn’t in the building. He had no idea that Buffy had been there. Suddenly, an idea started to form in Xander’s head. An idea that he knew was stupid and probably wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t even begin to talk himself out of it. The knowledge that Spike would be home soon spurred him into motion, all the while fighting the sinking feeling that his world was about to come to a crashing end. Again.
~*~*~
Spike smelled her as soon as he stepped into the building. The steady rain had washed her scent away from outside, but there was no mistaking it in the musty interior of the building. Fresh and light, it was everything he remembered and more. He was sure, if his heart had been able to beat, that it would be galloping out of his chest right now. In these last few weeks he had pretty much convinced himself that he would never see her again. He should have known better.
He swallowed hard as he took the first step up. The next step came a little easier, the next even easier than that. Without warning, joy spread through him, pushing him faster until he was suddenly on the top floor, the smell of air freshener overpowering.
The closer he got to the door, the more he realized that was where the canned fruit smell was emanating from. Spike knew then that she was gone. And Xander was trying to cover up that she had even been there. Betrayed anger slammed into him hard, replacing the joy he had been feeling. The fact that he actually understood why Xander had done it wasn’t the issue. He had thought that they had grown to know each other over the time they had been together. The smell of over-sweet peaches proved him wrong.
After a deep, calming breath, Spike seized the doorknob and walked inside. Xander was sitting on the couch in his boxers, watching the NASCAR race. A beer was resting against his knee and he didn’t turn to look at Spike as the door slammed closed behind him. The blonde could tell, however, that all his attention was trained on the vampire, not the crash on turn four.
“Hello, luv. Miss me?” Sarcasm dripped like poisoned honey from his words, letting Xander know that his ruse hadn’t worked. He hadn’t really expected it to, but he had hoped that this ONE time things would go his way. He should have known better.
“Hey, you’re all wet.” Xander forced a smile and glanced over at him. Tension stiffened the vampire’s body, making him seem unapproachable. Xander felt his heart start to crack and raised his beer to his lips to force away the bitterness in his throat.
“It’s raining,” Spike answered through clenched teeth.
“Oh, yeah.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that the whelp wasn’t going to volunteer the information. Of course, that only served to shoot Spike’s anger up another notch.
“She was here,” he said, his words carefully controlled. He saw Xander flinch as if he had hit him and knew that the boy realized he was busted. But he was apparently not going down with out at least a token effort of playing dumb.
“Who?”
“BLOODY HELL, XANDER!” Spike roared, the last iota of his control shattered. He was mad, hurt and it coated his voice, making it hoarse. To his credit, Xander turned and met the flashing blue gaze head on. His own dark eyes were filled with so much defeat that it would have made Spike’s heart break if he could have seen past his own pain. “You know damn well who I’m talking about! The Slayer.”
“Which one? There are thousands of them now, you know.” Spike had to count to ten and take several deep breaths to keep from flying across the apartment and beating it out of him.
“Where. Is. She?” he asked, his cerulean gaze caught between pleading and furious. They had a staredown for several seconds before Xander sighed and turned back to the TV.
“The hotel on Orchid,” he finally said, his voice flat as numbness started to seep into him. He welcomed it, encouraged it as he listened to Spike turn on his heel and stalk out the door. The sound of it closing reverberated like a gunshot in his ears.
~*~*~
“I’m coming,” Buffy called, tossing the damp towel she had been using to dry her hair onto the bed. She had taken a short walk after she had left Xander’s, trying to sort out her emotions and her strange reaction to the man that she’d seen as brother for so long. Of course, she was no closer to figuring herself out, so she had come back to the hotel room to prepare for a night of Friends reruns and take out. Assuming it was the Chinese she had ordered, she grabbed the bills she’d pulled out of her purse. “That was fast . . .” The words died on her lips and her brain seized as it tried to process what she was seeing. It was impossible, her mind told her, that the soaking wet, peroxide-haired man staring back at her was real. She had left him in that cavern, to be crushed under the rubble of Sunnydale. This couldn’t be him.
“Spike?”
“Buffy.” Her name was a whisper on his lips, reverent as a prayer. Her chin started to tremble and tears stung her eyes. She reached out with a shaking hand, pressing it against his sodden black t-shirt to feel the hard body beneath.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, as the first tear slipped from her hazel eyes. Their gazes locked, their breathing matched in rapid pace, and all words seemed to fly right out of their heads. All that mattered was this second, this realization that the other was real and this wasn’t some desperate fantasy. Then they were in each others arms, mouths fused together, tasting the rain from each other’s lips. Everything that they hadn’t been able to say, before or after the day their world ended, poured out into the kiss. They clung together like children, holding this moment close until the next second, when they would have to ask questions, to hear answers they didn’t want to hear. To admit that time really had passed. But right now, they could pretend it hadn’t, and they sank together to the floor, wrapped tight in arms and broken dreams.
I always thought that I’d see you baby....
“I guess asking if you’re really real would be pretty stupid right now, huh?” Buffy said with a sniffle when they finally pulled apart. Spike snorted and nestled her back into him, relishing the scent of her rain-washed hair as it tickled his nose. As an afterthought, he reached out with one foot and kicked the door closed. They stayed close, touching, lying on the floor in a tangle of wet limbs. Spike leaned down to kiss away the salty moisture clinging to her lashes. He brought up a hand to wipe away the tear tracks from her face but didn’t say anything. All he wanted was to look at her, to drink in the face that was forever etched into his heart. “I thought you were dead.”
Her softly uttered words were so full of pain that Spike felt guilt bloom painfully in his chest. His mouth set in a thin line as he struggled not to break down, himself.
“I’m so sorry, luv.” Her fingers played lightly across his face, over his disheveled curls and along his neck. She couldn’t get enough of touching him, couldn’t shake the fear that he would disappear if she stopped.
“What happened?” Spike searched her face for a long moment before sighing. Too soon, the peace they had found was about to be shattered. He had no doubts that, once she heard, he’d be ducking her fists. He brushed a soft kiss across her lips and pulled away from her. He stood up and shrugged out his wet jacket as she sat up, crossing her legs Indian style on the floor to watch him. After digging his cigarettes out of his jacket, he tossed the garment into a chair, then went to find a make-shift ashtray. His stalling was making her nervous; he could practically smell it. Finally, he rejoined her in the room, carrying a cup filled with water for his ashes. He lay down on the floor, stretching out across from her before lifting his arm and inviting her to snuggle up next to him--which she quickly did.
“S’pose it’s safe to say that I didn’t go ‘poof,’” he started, with a short laugh. Buffy didn’t join him, almost wishing that he had since the alternative was just too horrible to contemplate. “After you left, I passed out, or got knocked out. Not sure which. When I woke up, I don’t know how long later, I realized I wasn’t dead.” He took a long drag of his cigarette as a shudder passed over him. Buffy hugged her arm around him tighter, tears from her eyes dripping onto his already soaked shirt. “I was buried.”
“Oh, God,” she gasped, her tears coming faster. She pressed closer to him, tightening her hold around his waist. “I’m so sorry, Spike. I should have made you come with me. I shouldn’t have left.”
“Sh, pet. It was my choice. I thought I was going to die and I wanted you to live. What if you had stayed? You would have died in the cave-in. I never would have forgiven m’self if that had happened.”
“Did you . . . did you dig yourself out?” Her voice was muffled against his chest but he had no problem hearing her.
“Yeah,” he answered quickly, exhaling a giant plume of smoke as he talked. He felt her hot tears soak through his shirt and he put out his cigarette. He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face so she was looking at him. “I’m alright, luv. Was a little worse for wear when I first got out, but ‘m fine now.”
“When did you . . . get out?” And here, he knew, was the beginning of the conversation he didn’t want to have.
“Two months ago.”
He felt her stiffen against him as the words hung in the air between them. Her eyes narrowed as she processed his words, anger and hurt lacing through the hazel of her gaze.
“Where have you been?” He could tell that she was hoping he’d say he’d had amnesia and had just come to his senses today, or something equally less painful than the truth. A part of him wished that he could give her that.
“Xander’s.” He dropped his eyes as he said it, calling himself a coward.
“You’ve been at Xander’s for the last two months?” Her voice was low, dangerously low. Spike hazarded a glance at her and instantly wished he hadn’t. The anger and hurt in her eyes had intensified and he had the decided non-pleasure of knowing this wasn’t the end of her pain.
“Buffy. . .”
“No! Don’t.” She rolled to her feet and raked her hands through her hair. “There’s nothing you can say to make this better.” She was pacing now, her tiny frame shaking with her anger. Spike rose warily to his feet, watching her prowl the room. “I wouldn’t expect Xander to call me. But you. You keep telling me that you love me. And this is how you show it?”
“Would you listen?” he pleaded, his blue gaze imploring. She huffed and shook her head before shrugging.
“Fine. Go ahead. Tell me how you’re not like every other man in my life.”
“That’s not fair,” he snapped, taking a step forward. She backed up, raising her hands to stave him off.
“Please,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. The only thing that kept Spike from completely exploding was the slight trembling of her bottom lip that she couldn’t control.
“Buffy, it took me six months to crawl out of that pit. Six months.” He jabbed a hand through his hair, dislodging the wet curls into a tangled mass on his head. “When I got out, I couldn’t even speak. So, unless you wanted me to call so you could listen to dead air, it wouldn’t have done any good. Then,” he raised a hand, palm out, almost begging for her to understand, “you thought I was dead. Running back to you would kind of defeat the whole point of me making you leave that cavern.”
“So, essentially, you didn’t think I should have any say in it, is that it?”
“Buffy--”
“And again, I ask how you’re different than any other man in my life. Dad, Angel, Riley. All of them left without giving me any say. And now you. I thought you out of all of them would be different.” Tears leaked from her eyes again, hot and wet and full of her hurt rage. Shame flowed over him in the face of her agony.
“I’m sorry, luv. There’s nothing else I can say. I thought . . . I thought I was doing the right thing.” Tears had flooded his eyes, turning them into rain-washed sapphires.
Almost as quickly as it had reared up, Buffy’s anger dissipated at the sight of his misery. She took a deep breath, and consciously set aside her hurt. He was here now, alive, and that was all that really mattered. “Don’t do it again,” she said simply.
He managed a tremulous smile, and nodded. “I promise.”
Buffy’s lips quirked once, before blooming into a wide smile. “Good,” she said, then walked over to him, easily sliding into the arms he opened for her. “So, I guess we should get your stuff from Xander’s. After I kick his ass for not telling me you were alive, that is.” She giggled a bit at that.
Spike cringed inwardly and girded himself for the rest of the conversation he didn’t want to have. “I . . . can’t leave.”
Buffy’s head shot up and she stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “What? W-why not?”
He reached up to run his thumb over her cheek and gave her a smile so sad it threatened to break her heart all over again. “I can’t leave Xander.”
“Why? I mean, he hates you.” She watched as something flared in his eyes, and then the memory of how Xander had been dressed that morning, not to mention how edgy he had been acting, suddenly filled her brain. Denial slammed into her, and she gave a little shake of her head. “Doesn’t he?”
“Uh, not anymore,” Spike answered, meeting her gaze head on.
“Are you sleeping with him?” Shock and, inexplicably, just the tiniest bit of excitement raced over her as the words slipped from her lips. He didn’t answer, but just kept looking at her with those ever-changing eyes of his, his need for her to understand written clearly in their depths. “What, am I the only one who’s not bi?” she asked, at a loss for anything else. Spike’s lips quirked despite the seriousness of the situation.
“I’m not bi, luv. ‘M a vampire. There’s a difference. I think Xander is, though.”
“Well, he’s fucking you, so that definitely points to the bi area. Unless he’s just gay and coming out of the closet . . . which would actually explain a lot.” Buffy considered this for a second before she remembered that she was getting the brush-off.
“He needs me--you don’t,” Spike said, his voice soft and matter-of-fact. Her eyes widened as she realized that, yes, he was choosing Xander over her.
“H-how can you say that? I need you, Spike. I’ve always needed you. I would have given up a long time ago if it wasn’t for you. Don’t you remember that night?”
God, how could he forget that night? Never before in his long life had anything touched him so deeply. He sighed, his eyes drifting closed for a brief second before rising to meet hers again. He reached out to cup her cheek, and was heartened when she didn’t pull away. Her eyes were pleading with him not to do this, and his were pleading with her to understand.
“Luv, remember how you felt that night? When they all turned on you and kicked you out?” The flash of pain and almost imperceptible nod told him that, yes, she did remember. “That’s how Xander feels now. Like there’s nobody in this world that cares.”
‘Why would he feel that way? He knows we care. Willow and I talk to him all the time.”
“But you both left. Both of you. Didn’t even look back, I ‘spect. You two were so eager to get away from the Hellmouth that you forgot about him.” The words came out harsher than he had intended, but he could see that they’d hit something inside of her. Guilt laced through that pain as she realized just what she had done.
“He could’ve come with us,” she said in a small voice.
“Maybe he didn’t feel that he could. I don’t know what happened, I just know what he’s like now. If I leave, it’ll kill him.”
“This is incredible,” she said with a humorless laugh and rested her forehead against his chest. “I love you,” she said desperately. She felt him sigh, then felt his hands come to rest on her shoulders.
“I love you, too, more than I ever thought possible. But . . .” He drifted off, as if afraid to admit the next part even to himself. She pulled her head back and look up at him, her eyes exploring the depths of his.
“You’re in love with him,” she whispered, disbelief making her brows draw together.
“Yeah.”
She didn’t know what to think about this, what to feel. Just this morning, she had been hugging Xander, her body reacting to him in surprising ways, and she had actually felt okay. Not great, not exactly happy, but okay. And that was the best she’d felt in months. Seeing Xander again had pulled up some feelings that she hadn’t expected, but she had been so glad to see him. And now, all she felt was a deep sense of betrayal. Almost as if he had stolen something from her.
“So, this is it.” She sniffed loudly and took a deep breath, willing herself not to break down like a baby in front of him. Her heart was truly and completely shattered, but she wouldn’t let him see it. Not now. She was happy, at least, that he was alive. She would have to find a way to make that enough. He touched her face, spreading his fingers widely across her cheeks, and dared to touch his lips to hers. He savored the sweetness of it, not letting himself think that this might be the last time he ever got to taste her lips. She leaned into him, lingering longer than she should have, desperate herself to believe that this wasn’t happening. How could she get him back only to lose him again so quickly?
“Buffy, stay.” His voice was a husky whisper when he pulled back, his fingers feather light on her face. His touch was soothing, making her eyes drift closed. They snapped back open when what he’d said sunk in.
“What?” Her brows were drawn together again and she blinked. He couldn’t possibly be asking her what she thought he was asking her. Could he?
“Stay. Here, with Xander and me.”
“And do what? Wash the dishes while you to screw each other into next week? Sorry, Spike, being a third wheel isn’t my idea of a fulfilling life.” She backed away from him, suddenly needing distance. He let her go, dropping his arms to his sides in semi-defeat.
“I love you, Buffy. And Xander needs you just as much as he needs me. I need you.” He could see the surprise, the indecision in her eyes. He could even see the hint of excitement.
“I--I can’t. Spike, I can’t stay here if you’re going to be with him. It would hurt too much.” The thought of it was killing her; the reality would finish it. “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too,” she finished quietly, turning away from him in a final dismissal.
“No,” he started after a few seconds of staring at her back. “I suppose I can’t.” He felt his undead heart crack in his chest as he turned to find his jacket. He slid the sleeves up his arms, carefully controlling his movements to keep himself from dropping to his knees and begging her. When he was done, he turned to look at her back once more, taking in her tiny form draped in damp clothing. She refused to turn toward him, refused to watch as he walked out on her. “I love you, Buffy, and I’m always here if you need me. Always.”
Buffy felt even more tears start to slide down her face as the door opened, then quietly closed, leaving her alone in the room. She just stood, shaking as the wetness coursed down her cheeks, and her heart exploded in her chest.
~*~*~
Spike let himself into the apartment building, his emotions a tumultuous knot in his stomach. He was torn between grief at losing Buffy and relief that he was home. With Xander. He trotted up the stairs, imagining going inside the apartment and apologizing for getting mad at the brunette, then falling into his arms to cry out the pain squeezing his heart.
The second his foot hit the top landing, however, an unmistakable odor hit him full force. It was so strong, he had no idea how he had missed it before this. Panic sliced painfully through him, threatening to buckle his knees even as he started forward. He fumbled for his keys, fighting to get the metal into the lock. It took him three precious times to get it to turn. He surged through the door, calling Xander’s name. The door remained open behind him as he headed straight for the source of the smell.
He skidded to a stop at the bathroom door, a gasping sob ripping from his throat at the grisly sight that greeted him.
“Xander.”
~*~*~
Buffy hadn’t moved from the spot in which she had been standing when Spike left. She felt rooted, as though there was no reason for her to move now that her life had been completely blown apart. Again. When the phone started to ring, it was seemed almost like the sound was at the end of a tunnel, faraway and muffled. Eventually, though, the shrill bell finally broke through her semi-consciousness.
She turned toward it, moving like she was in water. Slow and almost clumsily she crossed the room. She picked the handset up, bringing it to her ear, and barely managed to say ‘hello’ before Spike’s frantic voice pushed through.
“Buffy. Oh God, oh god, oh god--”
“Spike?” Immediately, she was pulled out of her stupor by the ragged way he sounded. Fear clenched her heart and she felt her fingers tense on the receiver. “What’s wrong?” She knew--she didn’t know how or why--but she knew before his answer came.
“Xander. He . . . oh GOD! There’s so much blood.” Buffy’s lids drifted closed and it felt as if the world had tilted crazily on its axis.
“Is he . . . is he still alive?” she asked, her voice calmer than she felt.
“Yes. I can hear his heartbeat. But, it’s faint.” He sounded a fraction calmer now that he had something to focus on, to hope for.
“Okay. Spike, hang up and call 911. I’m on my way.” She waited for some sound of confirmation from him, but heard only his ragged breathing. “SPIKE! Do you hear me?”
“Y-yes. Call 911.”
“Right, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Hang on baby, I’ll be right there.”
“Buffy, p-please hurry.”
“I will.”
“I love you,” he gasped, before he disconnected.
“I love you,” she told the dial tone, staring blankly at the phone for a brief second. Then, she shook it off, reminding herself that Xander was still alive. There was still a chance. For everything.
A/N- ::passes around tissues:: Don't worry too much folks. It will be all right. But, I must insist on reviews though, just to make sure. ;) L.
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