III
Buffy licked her lips, her eyes following Spike as he moved methodically through the crypt, lighting candles with careful diligence. “Mood-lighting?” she teased, leaning back on the sofa.
He tossed her a cheeky look over his shoulder. “I got you here, din’t I?”
“That’s because of your…what was it? Sinister attraction.”
“Bloody right.” He finished lighting the candles and slid the lighter back into his duster pocket, then tossed the coat itself to his worn rocking chair. “I don’ have a wide selection of flicks, pet. Din’t really see myself doin’ much entertainin’ here.”
“Well, it’s Halloween,” Buffy observed, shrugging as he approached, moving over to make room for him. “I’m sure every station is playing some kind of special. Didn’t you wanna watch the Great Pumpkin? Which, by the way, totally adorable.”
Spike scowled good-naturedly. “Hey. Watch it.”
“Well, come on! The Big Bad William the Bloody, watching Charlie Brown on Halloween?”
“’Cause of the sodding chip! Don’ you think I’d love to be out there, raisin’ all kinds of hell? Bein’ one of the vamps that you…bloody hell, Slayer, stop laughin’ at me!”
Buffy was doubled over, holding her stomach and giggling so hard that she was red in the face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, holding up a hand. “You’re right, honey. You’re the biggest of the big bads.”
“Bloody right.” He paused, then broke into a huge smile. “You’re callin’ me…honey?”
She waved a hand airily, avoiding his eyes, even as her cheeks seared with heat. “It’s just a thing,” she said.
“An’ sayin’ I’m…the biggest?”
“Pig.”
“As a member of the male race, yes.” He stared down at her adoringly. “You want me beside you, or at the opposite end of the divan so I can’t touch you?”
Buffy frowned and grabbed his hand, tugging him down beside her, curling into his embrace before resting her head on his chest. “Touching good,” she countered. “More touching.”
She felt rather than heard him purring in turn, his arm winding around her, his lips brushing her forehead. God, why it had taken her so long to discover what a thoroughly sensual man he was, she would never know. He was so attuned to everything; he sighed with every breath she took. He laughed every time she was humored, and cried whenever she was upset. The love he expressed with the slightest touch, the briefest glance had been there from the beginning. Why was it only now that she was seeing it?
“Mmm,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut, enjoying the soft caresses he played across her skin. “That feels nice.”
Spike shivered and brushed tendrils of hair out of her face. “Buffy…”
She waited for a second but he didn’t continue. Rather, he reached for the remote and flicked on the television and let the static of false reality fill in the space between them.
“How do you have cable in here?” she asked after a few minutes.
“Same way I have a fridge an’ a telly.”
“I still haven’t figured those out.”
“You fight ghoulies that aren’ s’posed to exist, an’ you marvel at the sodding technology.” Spike snickered and shook his head. “You’re a simple girl, Slayer.”
“Hey!”
“’S all right. I love you, anyway.”
She warmed all over. “I know.” I love you, too.
What exactly was she afraid of? What did she think would change when she gave the words a voice? Spike would still love her. He wasn’t about to disappear. He wasn’t going to leave her. She knew that. Of course she knew that. She couldn’t chase him off; god knows, she’d tried. She’d tried it for years. If he wouldn’t leave her when she claimed to hate him, why would he leave her when she professed her feelings?
Perhaps it was subconscious. Perhaps her mind had convinced her that the man that claimed to love her would abandon her, regardless of his loyalty, simply as punishment for who she was. Never mind that the men in her past had been ones that were either in her life to fulfill a role in a part that all young girls experienced or out of a misguided devotion to said role. Angel was her high school sweetie in his creepy, older man stalkerish way. He’d taught her about love in that she knew that he was absolutely not what she wanted now. She’d lived under the influence of his words of advice for years, running into the arms of Parker, then Riley while ignoring the one man that had never, ever abandoned her. Through the good and the very bad, through the problems they’d constructed in the years of campaigning they’d done to avoid the truth of what was between them.
“Let’s see what drama’s dominatin’ the airwaves tonight.”
“Edited,” she pointed out with a pout. “All the good stuff will be edited out. Not to mention all the commercials.”
“Well…yeh. Li’l girls get scared of these movies, y’know.”
“I’m not a little girl.”
“You’re a tiny slip of a thing,” he teased, his eyes raking down her body with a gleam of possessive lust. She trembled under the power of his gaze. “An’ yeh, you’re definitely a girl.”
Buffy smirked. “Well, yes, I’ll concede the obvious. But I’m not afraid of monsters on television.”
She knew too much about the real world to be concerned with the false one.
“Better not be,” her vampire retorted, tightening his arm around her. “You’re with one now. Wouldn’t wanna let your guard down.”
“Ohhh, is that Interview With A Vampire?”
Spike growled and changed the channel. “Not gonna spend the night with my best girl watchin’ the onscreen portrayal of her one an’ soddin’ only.”
Buffy frowned. There’s a Spike-like character in this movie? She definitely didn’t remember that.
“’Course Louie had character. More than I can say for Peaches.”
She bit back a grin at that. “Plus, Brad Pitt? Much sexier than Angel.”
“The bloke looks like a chit in this flick!”
“Oh, what’s this? Are you coming to Angel’s defense?”
Spike growled again and turned his attention back to the television, sulking. “No,” he replied bitingly. “Jus’ don’ fancy holdin’ you while you think about other men. This time right now is mine to pretend…” He paused. “I jus’ don’t want to break the illusion until the last possible moment.”
Buffy paused and met his eyes. “Spike, it’s…it’s not…”
“It’s not what?”
She heard the sound of the television somewhere in the background from where it had settled on VH1. On screen, Susan Sarandon was singing to a lean, blond monster man in a gold bikini.
“It’s not…” The hammering of her heart echoed through her veins, pulsing through every inch of her being. And there was no room for thought or second-guessing. The look in his eyes was open and vulnerable; he was bearing himself before her on a platter. There was fear, yes, but love drowned out those fears for the greater understanding that whatever they had, large or small, was worth the sacrifice.
He was terrified, too, but that had never stopped him. Not where she was concerned.
The next thing she knew, she had closed the space between them, brushing her lips over his. He froze against her for a long second, then moaned and melted into her kiss. His hands tugged her closer, his tongue requesting entrance to her mouth, which she granted with enthusiasm. God, he tasted exquisite. If liberation had a flavor, Spike embodied it. His darkness merged with light, his flaws battled perfection; the demon and the man converged in a yellow wood, and he poured everything into the idyllic union of their lips.
“Buffy,” he whimpered, drawing her closer.
“Guh…”
“My darling slayer.” His lips broke from hers, his mouth taking chart down her throat. He suckled sweetly at her skin, tugging her completely in his lap so that she was straddling his waist. “God, I love you. I love you so much.”
“Oh God!”
It didn’t sound like a protest when it escaped her lips; therefore she was perplexed when he broke away from her guiltily, panting heavily.
“’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her throat. “I din’t mean…”
“What?”
He glanced between them shyly. “I got carried away. You don’ have any bloody idea what affect you have on me.”
“I don’t—”
“Din’t mean to…” He nudged his hips forward, and her eyes went wide at the feel of him hard between her thighs, pressing against her center intimately. “We better stop.”
Why?
She was so stunned that she let him push her off his body, her skin instantly bereft at the loss of his, her body aching for his touch. She watched him as he rose to his feet, moving back toward the fridge.
“Want somethin’ to drink?” he asked, pretending to be casual. Pretending that nothing had changed.
Pretending because she knew that he thought that was what she wanted.
“Ummm…bottle of water,” she said shakily.
“Want any of the goodies we bought?”
She’d practically forgotten about that. “Reese’s?” she suggested.
Spike tossed her a pack, followed by a chilling bottle of water. He poured himself a glass of blood, then grabbed a box of Weetabix and a beer. “Take the clicker, if you like,” he said, gesturing to the abandoned remote. “See if there’s anythin’ on that tickles your fancy.”
Buffy licked her lips and changed the channel. “Not interested in more Rocky Horror?” she asked.
He smirked. “Not one for musicals, luv.”
“I think you’re intimidated by Rocky’s tan. He’s a blond of hunka hunka monster love to light my fire, and he’s not sun-deprived.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Well, pet, it wasn’ bloody Rocky that had you all hot an’ bothered a few minutes ago.”
She shrugged playfully. “Believe that if you like,” she retorted, smothering a grin, changing the channel. “Oh…Fright Night!”
“No.”
“You really don’t like vampire movies, do you?”
“I don’t fancy misrepresentations of my species.”
“They’re movies. They misrepresent everything. See!” She pointed to the television. “No girl has boobs that big. Well, except Pam Anderson.”
Naturally, her observation drew his eyes to her own chest, which was really her intention. “I like ‘em natural,” he murmured, not able to tear his gaze away from her breasts. “Like yours. Bloody perfect handful. No sodding silicon.”
“Mmmm…really?”
He nodded.
Buffy resisted the impulse to wiggle in her seat. She turned her attention back to the television, which had settled on the TV Guide Channel. “You know,” she said, “I never quite got the point of this.”
“Whass’at?” He was still ogling her boobs.
“A channel that broadcasts TV shows while running a listing of what else you should be watching…while telling you to watch their crappy programming. It…oh my god, do you have that channel?!”
“What?”
She giggled uncontrollably and pointed at the screen. “It’s a dirty channel,” she said. “And you’re, you know, evil, so you probably traffic pornography. Oh my God, we have to watch that.”
Spike’s eyes widened. “You wanna watch porn with me?”
“It’s The Erotic Rites Of Countess Dracula! It has to be hilarious!”
“You…wanna watch porn with me?”
“Well, damn. You don’t have that channel.” She pouted. “Oh well…Arachnophobia?”
“If you wanna watch porn, I’m sure I can find—”
Buffy tossed him a sly smile. “I don’t want to watch porn,” she said, biting back a giggle at the desolate look on his face. “I wanted to watch a dirty Halloweenish movie. Come on…Countess Dracula? For the laughs, it’d be enough…oh my God, Ghost!”
Spike plopped down beside her again and snatched the remote away. “We’re not watching a sodding chick flick,” he growled good-naturedly. “Now, let’s see if we can find some seasonally appropriate porn.”
“Oh get off the porn!”
“Well, yeh, pet. That’s generally the idea.”
She flushed and pried open her pack of Reese’s. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you remember the commercials a few years back about there being more than one way to eat these things?” Spike shot her a suggestive look at that. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of God, stop thinking about porn.”
“Blame yourself, pet. You brought it up. You can’t mention somethin’ like that with a bloke who’s in love with you an’ dyin’ for jus’ one touch.”
You touched me earlier. No one told you to stop. She frowned. I didn’t tell you to not stop, either. I haven’t told you anything.
“I…ummm…the ad I was talking about…they did a thing on vampires and how they could suck the peanut butter out of the chocolate. Do you remember that?”
Spike’s eyes danced. “That’s a real talent, that is.”
“Can you do it?”
He took a long drink of his blood. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He turned his eyes back to the television. “The Omen, sweetling. How ‘bout it?”
Buffy bit into her Reese’s and nodded, settling back. He wasn’t going to play that game anymore, and she understood it. Hell, thus far, he’d been rather sporting about her avoidance behavior. She was reaching for him, and his arms were open for her. Neither one of them knew what was stopping her, and she knew it wasn’t up to him to make her decision for her.
“They don’t make scary movies like this anymore,” she observed. “Gregory Peck? So above this genre…really, who would put Atticus Finch in the role of the devil’s child’s earth daddy?”
“There’s loads of exposition,” Spike granted. “Most audiences wouldn’t fancy it nowadays.”
“Most audiences are lame.”
He tossed her a grin. “We’re agreed.”
Buffy took a long sip of her water. “Gregory Peck has that classic appeal,” she noted, resting her head against his chest again. “Though I don’t much like the idea of just taking a baby and saying it’s yours without even telling your wife.”
“He’s not a bleeding saint. That’s the point.”
She shrugged, stifling a yawn. “Still.”
Spike frowned. “Sleepy, sweetheart?”
“A little.”
“Wanna go home?” he asked, tensing.
I am home.
She wasn’t leaving this crypt until there was some understanding between them. They’d come too far tonight to be back at square one when she saw him again. She wasn’t going to let herself go anywhere until he knew exactly how she felt about him. Until it was out there—until her fear was conquered. “No, I don’t wanna go anywhere.”
“Good. I wanna keep you here a li’l longer.”
“Good. I wanna be kept.” She took another drink of her water and snuggled into his side again. “You don’t mind if I doze, though, do you?”
“You mean fall asleep in my arms? Can’t have that.” He tugged her closer and encouraged her head to rest on his shoulder. “Sleep away, darling. I’ll keep the baddies from comin’ after you.”
“Mmmm…”
The minute she closed her eyes, she had no desire to reopen them. The crypt settled around her and she was lost in Spike’s embrace. She’d been running on fumes for days, it seemed; her vampire had given her a genuine reason to seek solace. To hold peace as it was given.
There was no second-guessing this sort of bliss.
The haunting rhythm of the film seemed to agree with her. It wasn’t fitting, but it was classic, built and executed in a style that had long since been lost by modern horror filmmakers. She found the cadence of the dialogue oddly peaceful, despite the evocative connotation of the words.
“When the Jews return to Zion and a comet rips the sky, and the Holy Roman Empire rises, then you and I must die. From the eternal sea he rises, creating armies on either shore. Turning man against his brother 'til man exists no more,” a voice recited on screen.
“Ah, this was in the age of good writing,” her vampire commented. His voice sounded far away.
She fell asleep in Spike’s arms as they watched a movie. And in that second, that blip of a second, nothing mattered. It was quiet and normal; the way it was meant to be.
The only thing that stood between her and an eternity of this were three little words. Three words that seemed less daunting with every breath she took, and more terrifying than any demon she’d ever faced.
These words would change everything in a wonderful way. That didn’t make the prospect any less than what it was. It didn’t change what it meant for her.
Spike was with her now, and he wasn’t leaving. He really wasn’t leaving her.
For the first time in her lonely years, she truly wasn’t alone.
There was no greater peace than such knowledge.
She wasn’t alone.
TBC
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