HUGE thanks to Megan for looking over this for me and keeping me from losing my head. I don't know what I'd do without you, sweetie. *glomps*
Part Eight
Spike awakened her twice with his fingers, thrice with his tongue, and once with his cock sliding into her from behind. The night was restless, though she awoke feeling that she could jog a marathon.
Granted, that could have been due to Spike’s head perched attentively between her thighs, sucking at her clit as his fingers thrust into her pussy.
Buffy’s eyes went wide, her hands clutching his head, thrusting her pelvis against his mouth. “Oh, my GOD!”
The reverberations of his chuckles against her body felt so wonderful. She fisted his hair and held him to her pussy, rotating her hips against his lapping tongue. He’d introduced this to her tonight—this wonderful sensation that, thus far, she’d only experienced vicariously in cheesy romance novels. And since Spike loved excelling where Angel failed miserably, he’d done it over and over again until her body was quivering in a perpetual state of orgasmic bliss.
Spike grinned against her swollen lips, lapping at her opening before moving to lick her clit again. “Mornin’, baby.”
“Uhhh…what are you doing?”
“What does it feel like?”
“Oh God, you’re gonna have to carry me out of here.”
“Would really add to the image, right? ‘I killed your Slayer. She came until she died.’”
Buffy flushed and knocked him upside the head, stretching under him as he graced her clit with a gentle, however ardent parting kiss before prowling up her body until his cock was sliding against her slippery folds. Her body wasn’t used to this, and she figured she would need to spend several days under cold water before she stopped trembling.
“Need you one more time,” he murmured against her mouth. “Need you.”
It was over too soon. God, an eternity could have passed, and it would have been too soon. She clung to him—for those precious minutes, he was her anchor to the world. He worshipped her with his mouth, hands, and cock, brought her to the edge of paradise and back. The desperation in his kisses near broke her heart. It was the last time. The last. She knew it as well as anything. When this was over, it might never happen again, and knowing that all but broke her heart.
She cried out his name when she came, pressing her lips to his shoulder and blinking back tears. The last time. The last time. It truly could be the last time. The last time she felt Spike moving inside her as he moaned her name against her throat. The last time.
It was too much to think of right now. The end hadn’t even arrived, and she was already thinking of the long road ahead. When Spike spilled himself inside her and collapsed against her breast, panting, she hugged him tighter and buried her face in the crook of his neck, refusing to allow him to see her distress.
There were a few minutes of quiet as they recovered, curled in each other’s arms.
“I don’ wanna leave you,” Spike whispered, lifting his head to suckle at her nipple. “Christ, Buffy, I don’ wanna leave you.”
She didn’t want him to leave, either. She just didn’t know what would happen if he stayed. Not when Angel was still in the picture, and she didn’t know how she felt about him.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“So I won’.”
“You have to.”
He pouted, though she sensed the sensuous jut of his lower lip was a play to hide the pain in his eyes. “Why?”
“It’s the plan.”
“Bugger the plan.”
“I’d love to.”
“But?”
“Can’t.”
Spike sighed, lowering his head to her breast again. “Because it’s not in the plan.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t like this plan.”
“Spike, I need time.” She combed her fingers through his hair and exhaled slowly. “I can’t do this if you’re here distracting me. God, I’m too confused for anything right now. You confused me.”
He smiled softly. “I hear I’m good at that.”
“I’ll say.”
There was a long sigh; he raised his head, resting his chin against her collarbone. “I guess I should be gettin’ up now.”
Her body protested, but her logic-driven brain knew that their time was running short. She nodded and bit back a moan when he slipped out of her. He tossed her dress to her and laughed shortly when it fell atop her head. It was a moment of such random inspiration that she couldn’t help but dissolve in giggles, as well.
She laughed until her sides hurt. Until there were fat tears rolling down her cheeks.
And then she was crying for real. Dressing and crying for real, and God help her, but she couldn’t stop.
“Buffy?”
She shook her head and waved dismissively, fitting her feet into her slip on shoes. It took a few seconds, but she gathered the nerve to look back at him just as he slipped his t-shirt over his head. His hair was mussed and his eyes were filled with concern and affection, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. Not right now.
God, she’d never seen him look at her like that, and it about killed her.
“Buffy—”
She held up a hand. “It might be better if you stop doing that,” she said, forcing a tight grin. “You never called me Buffy before last night. We need to—”
“I—” He stopped shortly and frowned, then sighed with resignation and glanced down. And she knew, then; she knew before he said anything. She knew before he opened his mouth, before his eyes could meet hers again. It was over. All of it was over. “They’re here.”
Buffy laughed humorlessly. “Poltergeist much?”
“’Nother brilliantly funny flick.”
“The Council?”
“Yeh.” He kicked at the ground awkwardly. “Listen…Slayer…what you said last night…about not knowin’ an’ the like—”
“Not knowing?”
“About us. About what you want. I get why you’d do that—tell me to come back—an’ I appreciate it, but I won’ hold you to it.”
She blinked stupidly. “What?”
“I’ll split. Leave you to Angel, like I should. Won’ regret a bloody minute of it, but I don’t…you’re the Slayer. Can’t ask you to…” He trailed off in gentlemanly stupor. It was so singularly uncharacteristic that she thought he might flush. The words were not forthcoming.
A flash of fear rushed up her spine. The declaration had her reeling. It was at his discretion, of course, and she understood why he had reservations. There was no point in setting himself up for further disappointment.
And he was willing to let go. He didn’t want to do what he was offering, but he would if that was what she wanted.
It was the lastthing she wanted.
Spike must have seen her answer on her face. “All right, then,” he murmured, more to himself. “You don’ want that. Good. Din’t bloody know how I’d pull that off.”
Buffy grinned in spite of herself, but before she had a chance to reply, the door pounded and voices infiltrated the small, now homey comfort of their panic room. She jumped as sound echoed and bounced off the walls, her heart settling with ache. Spike kneeled over to collect his duster from the floor. And as he slid it over his shoulders, their eyes caught and held.
“Ms. Summers?” a female British voice drifted coolly through the steel door. The sound was muffled, but articulate. “This is Dr. Hendricks. I’m with the Watcher’s Council. Are you all right?”
There was no sense in feigning ignorance. However, she couldn’t tear her gaze from her vampire’s. They looked at each other for a lifetime.
“You better answer them, pet.”
Buffy sighed with acquiescence. It’s over.
“We’re in here!” she shouted, not breaking their gaze. “We’re both in here!”
There was a scurry of eager feet on the other side of the door. Then she couldn’t take it anymore; she broke her restraint in a frenzy to Spike just as he started for her in one last moment of communal zeal. The kiss they shared was brief, too brief, but his taste would stay with her for the rest of her life. In a matter of seconds, they recounted everything that had passed. Everything they had shared, and everything they were leaving behind.
When she pulled away, his eyes were large and sad.
“Goodbye,” she murmured. That phrase carried such somber finality.
Spike stopped and smiled, and her heart wrenched. “Goodbye, Buffy.”
The reaction was empowered in a moment of clashing tears and the impact of her fist against his jaw. She hadn’t even realized that her strength was back until she saw him fly across the small space and into the wall. It was a dose of acidic betrayal, and the door opened just in time for an audience of eyes to watch her lover slam into the wall and crash to the ground.
The former tenderness embedded in her voice gave way to resentment. “I told you to stay the hell away from me.”
How quickly old habits returned. With a snarky, rebellious grin, Spike pulled himself to his feet. “An’ as I’ve told you, there isn’t enough bloody room in here to stay the hell away from you. ‘Sides, our deal was till mornin’. If you hadn’t noticed, your bloody cavalry’s arrived.”
There were a series of blank stares across the three faces crowding the doorway.
“It’s still alive?” the first face said.
“Buffy!” Giles rushed in, and though she hadn’t forgotten that she was angry with him, there was something heartwarming in seeing his frantic concern. She’d just put herself through emotional hell, and she needed to see someone who loved her to get her through this goodbye without crashing completely.
“God, Buffy, are you all right?”
“She’s fine,” Spike drawled, his tone bland and disinterested. “Barely a scratch on her.”
“Why the hell isn’t he dust?” Quentin demanded.
Buffy threw her hands up. “I’m not talking here,” she said firmly. “I’ve already done your little song and dance number. If you need me to talk, fine, but not in here. Just let me out.”
“Me, too,” Spike quipped.
“Bloody likely,” Dr. Hendricks snapped. “Just why isn’t he dust?”
Buffy spun on her heel. “Because he’s not. He didn’t kill me, I didn’t dust him, and I promised him a way out of here in return for me-not-being-dead. So kill him, and you’ll have a rejuvenated and very pissed off slayer on your hands. Okay? So shut the hell up and let him move through, okay?”
Giles shot her a puzzled look. “Buffy?”
“Do it. I am not in the mood to negotiate.” Then, without thought, she grabbed Spike’s wrist and tugged him to her side.
Her hold on her vampire warmed her heart, and she knew, without looking at him, that he was touched by the gesture. However, the decision to bring him to her side made the next minute rather awkward. At the bottom of the stairs waited her tall, broody boyfriend, and he looked ready to kill.
Buffy released Spike immediately and her heart jumped into her throat. “Angel,” she gasped.
The next second, she was in his arms, tugged down from her position on the stairs and tucked into a protective embrace. The growl that rumbled through her boyfriend’s chest was endearing, really, only she didn’t appreciate being manhandled. And while she figured they would have an abrupt conversation about it later, at the moment, she was too tired to really care.
Thus, Buffy settled to simply hug him awkwardly. Her eyes, however, were drawn to Spike’s.
“Buffy,” Angel murmured in his Angel-y way. “Are you all right? He didn’t…hurt you, did he?”
“Does she look hurt to you?” Spike snarled.
Her boyfriend released her abruptly, turning angry eyes to his errant grandchilde, his eyes flashing yellow. “If you hurt her, I swear, I’ll—”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
Quentin Travers appeared at the head of his stairs, his brows arched. “Well, Rupert,” he drawled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It seems there was no reason to worry after all. Your protégé looks to be very much alive, and certainly back to what she does best.”
“I know she can handle herself,” Giles growled contemptuously. “However, when you stick a weakened slayer in with a vampire that has murdered two before her, one does tend to be concerned. I still can’t believe…” He paused and turned to Buffy. “He really didn’t hurt you?”
“Well, I have some bruises that won’t go away for a couple days, but other than that, I’m peachy with a side of keen.”
“How?” Travers demanded, the brow arching higher.
Buffy shrugged sheepishly, avoiding the blue eyes that called her home. “Well, you know Spike. He…he didn’t want to do me in when…he wanted a fight.”
That sounded right to no one, least of all herself.
Angel’s eyes darkened suspiciously. “What are you trying to pull?”
For a horrible minute, she thought that he was speaking to her. The worry died the next instant; in a blur, the elder vampire had his grandchilde pinned to the wall, gripping him by the throat. They burst into game face on the same beat, and the snarls coating the air left very little to growing comprehension.
He knows! Oh God. Oh God, he knows.
“What did you do to her?!”
“A whole lot of nothin’,” Spike snarled, struggling against his sire’s grip to no avail. Angel had the brawn, and though the younger vampire’s strength left nothing wanting, he was unequivocally outmatched. He glanced to her with well-feigned desperation, his eyes wide. “Bloody hell, Slayer. Help a bloke out, here!”
The larger, brooding form slammed his head against the wall. He was going to tear his head off if she didn’t step in. “You don’t get to talk to her!”
“What else do you think we did all night? Knit sweaters?” Spike turned his eyes back to her, and what he revealed stole her breath from her chest. “Buf—”
My name.
That was all it took. The next minute, she was at Angel’s side, seizing his shoulder with alarming neutrality. Her touch was usually all he needed to pull away from the edge, and when it didn’t work, she resorted to force. The strength powering her veins surged with fluency, and with little more than a blink, she consigned her boyfriend to the other side of the room, doing her best not to kneel down to assist Spike when he collapsed to the floor.
Everyone froze and stared at her.
“Spike and I had a deal,” she said sternly. “He got bored and decided it’d be easier to be stuck with someone other than himself. He agreed not to eat me if I got him out of here in the morning. No harm, no foul. So he leaves unharmed. Got it? I’m not going to say it again.”
Travers stepped forward with a frown. “Ms. Summers, as much as I applaud your apparent conversational skills, I find some difficulty believing that you are suggesting that we release William the Bloody. As I am sure you are aware, it is not in the Council creed to—”
“I don’t care what is or what isn’t in the Council creed, Mr. Travers,” she spat. “On behalf of the Council, I made the deal that kept me alive. Spike didn’t have to live up to his part of the bargain, but he did. I don’t think either of us appreciated being locked up in here for the sport of your cause. And honestly—good God—what was the point? You were going to let me die in here if I didn’t defeat a vampire when I wasn’t exactly at my best? You—”
“We had every confidence in your ability to succeed.”
“Well, I succeeded.” The resilience in her voice was in direct counterpoint to her trembling knees. She made the mistake of meeting Spike’s eyes and found herself engulfed in pain. The look he delivered broke her heart all over again. “Spike and I didn’t appreciate being pitted against each other for sport. I’m sorry if—”
“That’s not how I understood it,” Angel growled, dark eyes glaring at his grandchilde as he rose to his feet. “Travers told us that you sought him out for this. That you—”
“An’ if I did?” Spike replied, shoving forward. “What? A bloke’s not allowed to change his mind? I don’ see what your lot’s so antsy about. Slayer’s still breathin’. I held up my end of the bargain.”
“The Council made no bargain.”
Buffy glowered at Travers. “I passed your rite of passage test. I managed to stay alive with a very dangerous vampire and no slayer powers. I say I get to make a few rules.”
“That’s right, y’old ponce,” Spike sneered. “Do as the Slayer says so we can all go home. I’m jus’ achin’ to get me a bite to eat.”
“Seems you’ve already had your fair share of a bite,” Angel said softly from the corner. His eyes were fixed on the mark on Buffy’s neck. Then, softer, wounded, he turned to the Slayer and said, “You let him—”
Buffy jumped, her hand going to her throat. Spike flashed her a deer-in-headlights look, which struck her as odd, and odder still that he felt the obligation to protect her reputation. To hold up to his word. “That…ummm…” she explained, well aware of the flush rising to her cheeks. “Was before. Before we got trapped in the room. More than that, it’s completely off subject. Let him go. He’s not going to eat anyone. Spike agreed to rely on pig’s blood until he got lost.”
“And you believed him?”
“He knows I’ll stake him deader than…well…he already is if he goes back on it. Again, this isn’t up for negotiation.” Buffy turned back to Travers, her eyes drifting to Dr. Hendricks, who had suddenly appeared next to her employer. “You guys drugged me and set me up. Spike didn’t kill me, even though he had the chance. He gets to go just this once. Don’t make more of it than there is. Okay?”
Travers and Hendricks remained silent. Giles just stared at her. Angel couldn’t meet her eyes.
Buffy turned to Spike, her voice hardening. “Get out of here,” she said, cursing her trembling voice for betraying her. “I don’t want to see you in Sunnydale again.”
Her eyes, she knew, told a different story.
*~*~*
“Well, that’s that.”
Angel looked up from his book as she walked into the main foyer of the mansion. His calm was a source of great envy. It would be nice to see him overreact, even just once. “What is it?”
“The Council…more specifically…Travers. They beat Giles to a confession.” Buffy shrugged and crossed her arms. “Apparently, that last dose of Slayer-neutralizer he gave me wasn’t enough by their regulations. It wore off way too early. I shouldn’t have been…” With a sigh, she looked down, taking a seat in the armchair opposite him. “I shouldn’t have been able to…throw you across the room like that. Are you all right?”
“I don’t bruise easily.” There it was—a flicker of resentment. Not more than a day had passed but she knew that things would be strained between them for a long while. And, in all fairness, she couldn’t blame him. The guilt that stretched her every nerve was intolerable at times. When she was by herself, studying her cream walls, and counting the seconds as she remembered Spike’s touch. Now she was looking at Angel, confronted horribly what she did. What she had betrayed.
What she wouldn’t take back for anything.
“What will happen to him?”
She blinked. “Spike?”
“Giles.”
“Oh.” Buffy sighed again, avoiding his confused glance. “Ummm…he’s been fired. They…they’re going to send a new Watcher in a couple of weeks. Giles put up a fight, though. A big one. Travers said if he tried to intervene with his replacement’s orders that…” Something dark rippled through her. “I don’t…I’m not going to listen to him. Giles is the only…he’s like my father. I won’t take orders from some random Watcher they throw my way. That’s not fair to him. He thought he was saving my life.”
“And your life didn’t need saving.”
“Spike didn’t hurt me.”
“I know. Care to explain why?”
Their eyes locked and held. “I’ve already told you that he didn’t want to be bored.” She paused. “I mean, come on. You know Spike better than anyone. He hates—”
“Boredom. I know.” Angel shook his head and slapped the book closed, rising to his feet. His presence was foreboding—intimidating even to those who loved him. “I also know that Spike is different than any other demon you’ve faced. Most flee from the thought of facing the Slayer. He always sought her out. I don’t see why he would refrain from killing you, regardless of tedium. That was only a few hours, Buffy.” The penetrating eyes thing worked really well for him. She felt stripped and exposed. “It was nothing compared to the eternity he had to brag about doing in number three.”
“Listen, I can’t explain his motives, okay?” She jumped to her feet. “And honestly, whatever worked…well…worked. Are you upset? I’m alive and he’s gone; what’s the big? I was powerless, Angel. I…I had to keep him talking. We were trapped, I was weaponless…hence the need for conversation. That was the reason he gave me, and I accepted it. It kept me alive.”
If she didn’t feel bad before, she certainly did now. After all, it wasn’t her boyfriend whom had turned his back on her. It wasn’t Angel whose fidelity was put to the test. And what made everything worse was the complete lack of regret. She fought for remorse and found nothing but recognition. Something she wouldn’t have seen without Spike’s assistance. Something that would have taken her years to overcome. To grasp. To understand.
In the end, she was confused. She was buried in avarice. In greed. For seeing everything, taking what she pleased, and not bothering to share her inner turmoil with the one person she was supposed to love more than anyone.
“I can’t stay here,” Buffy announced, grasping her coat and moving for the door. At Angel’s puzzled look, she sighed and shook her head. “I need time…and to train. Get back into Slayer-mode. I feel too out of the game, even if it’s been only a few days.”
“That’s probably for the best,” he conceded after a long minute. “When will I see you again?”
“I’ll come by tomorrow.”
*~*~*
That night was the last she saw him.
She was in her room, settling in for some much-needed rest, when she glanced haphazardly out the window. And she saw him. Spike stood on the ground below her room, gazing up at her somberly. His mouth was curled around a cigarette. And that was it. All they did. He watched her, she watched him; they watched each other. They watched each other for what felt like centuries. She wanted to invite him inside, but knew she couldn’t. No—this was the end for them. The end for right now.
Just for now, she told herself. Only for now.
It couldn’t last forever. After a few minutes, Spike blew her a poignant kiss, turned, and walked away. Walked out of her life into the shadows where she could not follow.
And she knew then. She knew. It wasn’t over. She would see him again. Until then, it was up to her.
She would see him again. She would. And the rest, for the moment, didn’t matter. She could wait.
It was only time.
To be continued in Yellow Brick Road - Book II: Nemesis... |
