Summary:Buffy invites Spike to join in a role play game.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: ladyanne@wickedenergy.net
Chapter 6
It was finally Friday. As Buffy staggered out of bed to begin her morning routine and attempts to prod Dawn awake, she bumped into Willow in the hallway.
"Hey, Willow, got an early class today?" Buffy knew that she probably should already have a clue, but she just couldn’t remember when Willow was coming and going these days. She needed to more supportive, what with the whole magical addiction, etc. She sighed and mentally added item #178 on list of things to do - be more SupportoGirl! with best friend.
"Um, Willow, what are you doing this weekend? Maybe we could hang out tomorrow night?"
"Oh, thanks Buffy, that would be good, but I can’t this weekend." Willow replied.
"Oh, do you have a date? Are you seeing Tara?" Buffy hoped that Willow and Tara were finally reconnecting, there had been definite sparks at the party.
"I wish. No, I got some bills from college and I need to go and spend a weekend with the parents, bond, get some money to pay tuition and stuff." Willow replied.
"When will you be back?" Buffy asked, the seeds of an idea running though her head even as she swallowed some frustration at Willow’s ready source of funds compared to her own sad stream of income from flipping burgers. Item #179 was added to the list- find a new job.
"Probably Sunday night, I figure a complete weekend of family togetherness will do it and then they’ll forget I exist again for a while. Thanks for the offer though, we should do a movie night or something soon. Anyway, I’m going to go ahead and shower real quick before Dawn gets up." Willow entered the bathroom and shut the door.
Buffy continued to Dawn’s room and knocked lightly, then harder.
"Dawnie, get up. You know you can’t be late for school again. Xander will be here soon - move it."
No sound, so Buffy opened the door and marched over to the pile of covers on the bed. "Come on Dawn - you have to 5 or I’m taking more aggressive action."
Dawn peeked her head out of the covers and rolled her eyes.
"Fine, I’m getting up."
Buffy started to leave, when Dawn stopped her.
"Buffy, um, I got a B+ on my history test yesterday."
Buffy turned. "That’s great Dawn, I knew you could get your grades up if you worked a little harder."
Dawn smiled, knowing she had scored some points.
"Well, since I’m doing so much better, canIspendtheweekendwithKaren’sfamily?"
"What? Slow it down, Dawn."
"Can I spend the weekend with Karen’s family at their lake house? It’s sounds really cool and she invited me to come and you can call her mother and everything. I couldn’t ask you last night because you worked late and then patrolled."
Buffy paused. "Who is going? How long will you be gone? Will you do you homework for the weekend if I say yes?"
Dawn knew she was close to victory. "Her mom, d was fairly glaring, but rather than become introspective, Bad Buffy ordered an end to such contemplation and noted the time, 11:33 PM.
It’s OK, Buffy’s not having a weekend with Spike, Guinevere is engaging in a romantic tryst with her Lancelot. It’s fine, this will be good. I need the break and it’s all a game, it’s not real.
Back to the packing. Undies? To wear or not to wear? They frequently ended up damaged, but Spike, her Lancelot, would be wooing her tonight, so perhaps something romantic? She dug in her drawer and found the perfect set, a lovely pale pink Victoria’s Secret set she had treated herself to for her birthday. OK, clothes, check, stakes, check, reality, out the window. I am Guinevere - off to meet my knight in shining armor. Buffy pulled on her jacket and locked the door as she departed for the Restfield Cemetery.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike looked around the crypt. He had cleaned and swept, added candles in strategic locations and placed a few flowers around the upper crypt - just to set the mood. He had made a quick trip to the grocers after the sun set and purchased bottled water and other beverages, and some snack food, just in case she decided to stay for a while. If things went like he planned, she wouldn’t leap up and run out, virtue fluttering, when she was done shagging him tonight.
He’d stocked up on his blood supply and purchased a bottle of wine, remembering her distaste and bad luck with his hard liquor in the past. Spike wasn’t sure he trusted Buffy with alcohol, past experience didn’t bode well, but maybe a little would loosen her up.
Patrol had been fairly uneventful, so he anticipated no problems requiring the Slayer’s attention to anything other than her personal demon, him, that night. He’d done a quick sweep of the local hot spots and shut down any trouble for the evening.
But the downstairs, that was his crowning glory. He had cleared away all the talismans of death, no coffins or skulls could be seen, and instead a rose petal covered bed waited in the center of the room. He worried that she might be cold, given the drafts that sometimes swept through the lower half of his crypt, so he’d added a few extra blankets under the crimson spread. The carpets she had admired earlier were strategically scattered so her delicate foot would never have to touch the cold floor of the crypt. Candles surrounded the bed and other available surfaces to provide a subtle glow. All told, he felt he’d created quite the scene for a romantic seduction.
Finally, he picked up the crown of flowers he had made, straightened his black silk shirt, with just a button or too undone, and prepared to meet his lady at the stroke of midnight. He looked around the crypt one last time. William, my boy, you really are a frightful git, but if she wants a Lancelot, that’s what I’ll be . With that he took the crown and strode out of the crypt to meet Buffy.
Chapter 7
Spike arrived at the Anderson crypt first and sat on the bench outside, observing the moonlit sky and fingering the delicate flowers in his hands. He detected a small noise and turned, seeing Buffy coming towards him, a vision in something long and white as she floating across the graveyard, her golden hair under the moonlight a counterpoint to the darkness. Then suddenly, a small movement off to her right caught his attention. A vampire had struggled out of its grave and was now striding towards the Slayer.
"Well, it has sharp teeth, suppose it will do for a dragon," Spike muttered.
"My lady," he called, watching as Buffy turned to him and smiled.
Momentarily he was distracted by the brightness of that smile, but quickly jumped up as he realized he needed to save her - she wasn’t the slayer tonight - he was her knight and protector. He streaked past her and with a few swift blows dispatched the vampiad, aunt, uncle, Karen and her two cousins, who are twins, the same age as us. They go a lot on weekends and fish and swim when it’s not too cold. Buffy, it sounds great and they’re really nice people, not demony at all. Please let me go. They want to leave this afternoon and we’ll be back on Sunday afternoon. And I promise to do all my homework."
Buffy had to admit, the situation sounded Ok and a reward for bringing up her grades would be a good positive reinforcement - hey maybe she had learned something in the Psych call after all - go Pavlov!. She knew she should keep Dawn grounded for, well probably for years for the shoplifting, but she had returned the items and started to work off her debts.
"Tell you what, leave me the number and I’ll call Karen’s mom this morning. Assuming it all checks out, you can go - but remember - don’t use this as an excuse to let the grades slip. The last thing we need is Social Services breathing down our back again. I have to work tonight, so if I don’t see you before you leave, have a good trip and be polite."
Dawn leaped from the bed and flung her arms around Buffy. "Yeah, thanks, you’re the best!"
As Dawn began pounding on the bathroom door for Willow to hurry up, Buffy realized what this meant. She had the entire weekend free. She could be gone all night, heck, all weekend even, and no one would be the wiser. She grinned as she hurried to call Karen’s mom and make sure the invitation was legitimate.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy stared at the time clock in the corner, listening to the excruciatingly slow ticks as she waited impatiently for her shift to end. At least she didn’t have to close tonight - she’d have been here forever and she had big plans for the weekend. She started to drift off again into the daydreams of Spike lovin’ she’d been toying with all day only to be rudely snapped back to attention by a very annoying gaggle of teens wanting a post-movie snack.
At last 11:00PM arrived. Buffy eagerly finished her shift at the Doublemeat and raced home to change. She had to move quickly to make it to the designated rendezvous point by 12:00PM and she wanted to pack a bag for their little game, assuming Spike had accepted his role. And she doubted he’d turn her down.
What he didn’t know was that she intended to stay this time, for the whole weekend. She had no shifts this weekend, and Dawn and Willow wouldn’t be around to check up on her suspicious absences and failure to come home. She hummed as she hastily showered and scrubbed away the eau de Doublemeat, then quickly got out and began her beauty preparations.
She had to admit, she was liking this plan, a lot. When was the last time she had gotten dressed up for a date? She blow-dried her hair and set it quickly with curlers. At times like these she wished she hadn’t cut her hair, but she did have some bouncy waves in it, which was nice.
She applied her makeup, then delved in her closet for the long, high-waisted white sundress she knew was in the back. She hadn’t worn it in years, and it was probably too nippy outside, but she felt the need to look the part somehow and this was the closest thing she had. So she laid it out, along with some extra clothes to change into, and her one truly beautiful floor length negligee.
She’d gotten it sometime over that summer when she had been dating Riley, thinking they’d have a chance to maybe have a long weekend and she could surprise him. But the time had never come, and she had pushed the long champagne colored silk and lace confection to the back of her drawer. It wasn’t overtly sexy, but very romantic and honeymoonish.
Buffy paused and sat down on her bed. Did she know what she was doing here? She was planning to play a game with her sex-toy, her vamp that she had beaten nearly to a pulp a few weeks before. And yet she was packing as though this were a romantic getaway with a man she loved. The dichotomyre into a cloud of dust. He turned to find Buffy behind him, stake in hand, and quickly knelt at her feet.
"My lady Guinevere."
"My brave Sir Lancelot," she replied, suddenly very happy he had decided to play.
He looked up at her with a smile of pure happiness that Buffy wasn’t sure she had ever seen the like of which split Spike’s face. The game had begun.
Spike rose to his feet and drew his Slayer across the grass to the crown of flowers which waited on the bench.
"Guinevere, I brought you this small token of my affection." He paused, waiting for his words to sink in and to gauge her reaction.
"Thank you, they’re beautiful" she responded, a little amazed at his courtly manner. Was this the same snarky Spike who hustled pool and tormented Xander?
He placed the crown of flowers on her curls, then slid his hands down her face, cupping her chin as he slowly leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. He stepped back, offered her his arm, took her bag and led her back to his crypt.
Buffy’s heart raced a little as she felt the tingles from the soft kiss and those few light touches. She knew it was ridiculous to react this way. Granted, she hadn’t seen him in over a week, and hadn’t been with him for nearly two, and she’d gotten a little use to the regular lovin’, ...er, sexcapades Spike was so eager to engage in. But he’d done it! He was following her scenario, complete to slaying a demon and only calling her Guinevere, not Buffy.
And the flowers! She’d received flowers before, Riley was good about the traditional relationship trappings, and even Angel in a twisted parody of love had given her roses on Valentine’s. But this charming little crown Spike had placed on her head was both unique and beautiful. Buffy sighed contentedly as they strolled along in a silence unusual to both of them, each loathe to disrupt the moment. This had potential to be a wonderful weekend
~*~*~*~*~
Spike opened the crypt door and ushered her in to be seated on the couch.
"Would my lady care for a drink?"
"Um, what do you have, Sir Lancelot?" She giggled internally, she really felt a little silly calling him that.
He rattled off a few sodas, juices and water, then casually suggested he also had some wine. Buffy nodded to the final suggestion, then began slowly moving around the crypt.
"I like what you’ve done with your castle," she commented as he handed her the small glass of wine.
"Thank you luv, would you like the grand tour? I have a cave in the basement." He quirked his eyebrows ever so slightly and she knew he was referring to her note.
"Maybe in a little bit, I’d like to finish my drink."
He nodded and pulled her slowly back to the sofa, seating her beside him. Buffy slowly sipped the wine, feeling its warmth as it hit her stomach and she relaxed her head back against the sofa. Slowly, Spike reached out for her empty hand and laid it in his, tracing small, indistinct patterns in her palm. Buffy shivered slightly, enjoying the tiny point of contact that hinted at things to come. She closed her eyes and focused on the tingling sensations that had begun to radiate from his touch.
"So Lady Guinievere, tell me about your day." Spike leaned back beside Buffy, enjoying the chance to just be with her. It had been quite a while since they’d actually sat and talked, like they had after she had first returned. He’d mostly listened then and he was perfectly content to do so now. He’d enjoyed hearing about what Nibblet was up to, the various ups and downs of her buddies and the joys and tribulations, small and large, that made up her life.
And suddenly, Buffy felt like talking again. She had missed this chance to just chat about her problems with someone who didn’t really offer solutions, just listened and provided comfort. She began to spill about her annoying job and money concerns, Willow’s issues, the upcoming wedding that appeared to be driving the bride and groom nuts and Dawn’s little problem with the light fingers.
As she continued to ramble, Spike said very little, just appropriate murmurs now and then to let her know he was still listening. He never loosened his hold on her hand, just continued to stroke up and down her palm, lulling her. She found herself inching closer until she was tucked against him, leaning into his shoulder. She gradually grew quiet, feeling like a burden had been lifted after getting some of her anger and resentment at the friends and family she loved. They sat that way for more than a few minutes, both deep in thought and the pleasure of each other’s company, and neither seemed inclined to end the moment. Buffy finally broke the spell and looked up to find his fathomless blue eyes staring down into hers.
"I think I’d like to see that cave now," she murmured.
Smiling, he rose from the sofa, still holding her hand and drew her towards the stairs, directing her to go first. Spike followed Buffy as she descended into the wonderland of muted light and color below. She looked around in awe, taking in the setting of a romantic, slightly gothic, boudoir and realized he’d done all of this for her.
She was distracted from the setting as she felt Spike approach behind her and shivered slightly at his touch when he slowly place his hands on her shoulders, kneading just slightly. A girl could definitely get use to this. She tried to remember the problem with letting Spike coddle her and came up blank at the moment.
"Ummmm, that feels wonderful after a hard days work, um..., manning the kitchen at my castle," she improvised.
"Well pet, may I have the honor?" He guided her to the bed and directed her to lie across it on her stomach. Buffy had thought she was fairly unwound upstairs snuggled on the sofa, but began to wonder if she might become a pile of goo from all these seductive little touches. He sat on the edge as he began to smooth his hands over her bare shoulders. His fingers glided ever so lightly over her exposed skin, to the edges of the dress, and then back again, in a sliding motion that was hypnotic. He was barely touching her, but she felt so relaxed and languid.
"My lady, do I have your permission to continue?"
Permission to continue, wow, Spike was taking this full tilt.
"Proceed my faithful knight," Buffy murmured, feeling ready to purr. She generally wasn’t big on being so passive, but this was just too good to stop.
Slowly she felt him reach for the zipper at the back of her dress and draw it down to her waist, then carefully flick open the clasp which fastened her bra. He slid the straps of the dress off her shoulders and then proceeded to massage every inch of her back in long smooth strokes. Buffy was initially soothed by the motions of his hands and the cool contact of skin on hers. But as he continued, gradually growing bolder with his strokes and moving further down her body and round her sides, just barely grazing the edges of her breasts still encased in the loosened bra, she felt her arousal begin to grow.
She made little contented murmurs, urging him to continue his explorations as he moved closer, purring himself as he nuzzled the back of her neck. Slowly he used his blunt teeth to nip lightly at her shoulders and back, moving down her body. He stopped to kiss and lick the small of her back, which he seemed particularly fascinated with. The tingles and buzz of the slayer warning system seemed muted, yet provided additional frissions of sensation from the sparks that seemed to ripple beneath her skin from the contact with his lips, tongue and teeth.
Buffy wondered if minutes or hours had passed in the exploration of what she had never before considered such an erogenous part of her body until Spike finally rolled her over and began to slide the dress from her arms. She was very turned on, but she didn’t feel the urgency to rush things she had felt so often in the past with Spike. The closest thing she could compare this to was the first time with Angel, and the fear and newness of that event had prevented the contented euphoria that seemed to overwhelm her now.
Spike looked into her unfocused and gorgeous hazel eyes that for once were returning his gaze. So often during sex she looked away or closed her eyes, blocking him out, wanting his body but nothing more. He was always afraid at those moments that she was somehow substituting him for Angel, using his cold body in place of the one she could never have. He hated that feeling, that comparison that he had experienced first with Dru and now with her. But tonight was different. He seemed to have reached something inside her, for the look in her eyes was soft and she held his gaze, seeming to really see him, Spike, as he slipped the dress down to her waist.
Her breasts remained covered in the pale pink silk she had selected and Spike recognized that she had made some effort in her appearance before coming to him. He breathed in the beautiful sweet scent that was uniquely hers, her essence, and bent his head to worship. Buffy thrusts her breasts upward, eager for the sensations she knew he would bring, feeling her nipples harden from the cool air and her growing state of arousal, but Spike ignored the plea and began again to nuzzle her face and neck, as he kissed and nibbled at her ear, then her cheek, finally reaching her lips.
Buffy gasped against him, as his tongue slid across her lower lip, seeking entrance into her hot mouth. She welcomed the intrusion and joined the dance of tongues as the kiss deepened. Much like their fights, the kiss seemed to have been choreographed by a master. There was no awkwardness, no bumping of noses or nibbles that were too harsh. Instead, the mating dance between their lips became one of the most erotic experiences Buffy thought she had ever had, as Spike rubbed his silk-covered chest against her sensitized nipples and lightly worked his thigh between hers. He eased back occasionally, letting her draw quick gasps of air, but the kiss continued as his tongue stroked and teased her.
When he finally pulled back and she opened her eyes, he was simply staring at her face, his body still pressing her lightly into the mattress, but not moving. For once, Buffy hesitated to break the spell and demand action, and instead let herself drown in those blue pools that had darkened considerably as he stared at her. One final lingering kiss was bestowed and then Spike began a slow progression down her body.
He seemed fascinated by the silk of her lingerie as he left the cups laying across her breasts and stroked her nipples softly through the material, rolling them in his fingers to induce pleasure just short of pain, then releasing the stiff peaks to softly stroke them again. She could feel the wetness seeping between her legs as he continued to ever so slightly apply pressure at the apex of her thighs with the leg he had wedged between hers, but he seemed to not want to be deterred from his enjoyment of her breasts, even as she wiggled against him, seeking friction to ease the ache she knew he could easily remedy. She had to admit, something about the play of silk between his flesh and hers heightened the sensations as his fingers continued to dance across her peaks, and she wondered if she could cum just from this exquisite and focused stimulation.
She began to think she might soon find out, as he added his talented tongue to the mix. Leaving her breasts draped in the silk, he licked and sucked her mounds, swirling his wet tongue around and around the now damp fabric. She gasped as he drew one nipple into his cool mouth and lightly bit the erect bud, then turned to give similar attention to her other aching breast. Buffy threaded her fingers through his hair and clutched him to her as she softly moaned. He stopped and raised his head at the sound, flashing her that wicked Spike grin that softened into the dazzling look she had begun to mentally tag as William, because he was at his must vulnerable and human when he looked at her that way. Which was not very often.
He briefly snared her lips for another sensuous kiss, taking his time, then sliding down to her neck, licking her pulse points as he pulled the bra away. Oh my, he’s not done yet. He’d never been so quiet or so single-minded in extended foreplay before in their encounters, usually his hands were everywhere at once, driving her to the frenzy she was equally urging him towards, mouthing little nasties that got her more hot and bothered than she liked to admit.
As his lips closed around her now bare nipple once again and his fingers lightly caressed her other breast, she shuddered at the sensations he was drawing out of her. This was the slowest buildup they’d ever had, yet she was almost afraid of reaching the climax, because she wanted this moment to last, teetering on the edge of heaven.
He gave each breast one last long lick with the flat of his tongue that went straight to her core, then shimmied down her belly, taking the dress that she just now realized was still caught at her waist with him as he slowly knelt in the floor by the bed. She felt a flush sweep over her entire body as he descended and she resisted the urge to protest as she lost contact with his body.
Buffy raised up on her elbows, wanting to see his next move as he slowly pulled the dress away and carefully laid it across a nearby chair. The candles had begun to burn low and he watched her face as he began to blow them out, one by one throughout the crypt. She continued to watch him, feeling the cool air blow across her heated flesh as he reached the next to the last candle and extinguished it. Now, one solitary light remained, just enough of a low glow to barely make out his features as he returned to the bed.
He stood before her and their eyes locked as he slowly unbuttoned and slid the shirt from his shoulders. His disrobing had something of the element of a strip tease to it, Buffy thought, as she noted his coy flashes of skin as he moved down each button and the subtle arching of one brow as he caught her hitch of breath when his abs came into view. But the overall feeling was far more intimate then a burlesque show. He turned and laid the garment next to her dress.
She stared at the contrast of color, the white of her dress compared to the black silk of his shirt, and wondered if her life had even been that black and white. If so, it had long ago faded to something far more gray than she felt capable of understanding. She sighed as she looked at the beautiful man before her who had already taken so many pains to make this a memorable evening and made up her mind to return the favor to him. For the first time since he’d asked her permission to begin, she broke the silence they seemed to be observing.
"Sir Lancelot?" she breathed.
"Yes, my Guinievere?" Spike returned to the bed, lying on his side and staring at his love laid out in all her glory. The tiny glow of the one remaining candle danced across her golden shoulders and he found his mouth began to water as he stared at her luscious breasts, now slightly swollen from his earlier attentions, rosy and ripe.
"May I touch you now?"
Spike was jerked from his focus on her pouting nipples as he looked into her eyes, surprised by her request. She often liked to be in control during their encounters, but she rarely if ever asked permission, she simply seized and took and wrung her pleasure from him, and he received in the process. So the gentle request and prospect of her lips softly wandering across his skin as he lay beside her on the bed were almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.
"My heart, you may do with me what you will," he replied.
Buffy looked at the feast before her, a study in white and black, light and shadow, as he lay next to her clad only in his jeans. Where to start to bring him the kind of pleasure he’d been showering her with? She mimicked some of his earlier moves, beginning with an exploration of his face, stroking his high cheekbones, then running her fingers into his soft hair as she nibbled gently at his ear lobe. She pulled back to enjoy the rumpled curls she had disrupted and then slid her fingers to lightly caress his neck, a zone of particular sensitivity for him. She lingered there briefly, kneeling beside him, connected by only the briefest of touches, watching as his eyes flashed from yellow to blue as she fondled his scar. Satisfied with her next move, she slid down further, and brought his arms over his head, holding them in place as she curled against his chest, clad only in the wisp of pale pink silk that seemed to suit her skin in the flickering candle light.
He permitted her hold, as she began to work in earnest on his neck, first licking intently, then lightly biting at the scar he would always bear. She had discovered how sensitive this area was to him long before, and frequently would score it with her nails or nip it in passing, giving him little jolts of sensation at the height of ecstasy, but she had never spent so much time there or so faithfully mimicked the bite that granted him immortality.
She began to bite harder, punctuated by lavings from her hot tongue, never quite enough to draw blood, but enough to send bolts of pleasure racing though him and hardening his already erect member to the point of near pain in the confining jeans. He tried to control his moan, but he couldn’t and she slowly lifted her head from his neck and gave him a Cheshire Cat grin at wringing this acknowledgment of pleasure from him. He pursed his lips and she returned to kiss him. Spike realized he had lost the plot somewhere along the way, but coherent thought seemed to elude him as she began to slither down his body again
He arched into her touch as she caressed his chest, lightly teasing his nipples, then suddenly she stopped, burrowing around in the bedding until she retrieved her discarded bra. Slowly she worked the silk across him, caressing him with the soft fabric, remembering the pleasure she had felt at the texture of the silk. He felt his erection grow beyond what he had imagined possible and knew he wasn’t going to last with this kind of attention from Buffy. He could control himself when he was directing the action, working her arousal higher and higher, but now the tables had turned, and he wasn’t sure he could draw this out as he wanted to. He figured at most he had this one night to indulge in truly making love to the queen of his heart and he didn’t want to be distracted from that goal, no matter how attractive the inducement.
But then he realized she has reached his jeans. She carefully popped the button as she gently slid her hand over his throbbing cock. She unzipped his pants, and then he felt her hand, still covered in the silk, slide inside and draw him out, stroking him. One hand fastened at the base of his penis, sliding the silky material against his hard flesh as she began to stroke upwards in rhythmic strokes. The other wrapped around his tip, her fingers smoothing the head and teasingly dipping inside his slit, catching a small drop of moisture that rolled onto her fingertip. He watched as she lifted the drop and licked it from her finger, appearing to savor the taste as she returned her hand to tease him further.
Spike groaned again. He wasn’t going to last, he could think of nothing which could distract him from her warm hands and focused gazes. He had to return the focus to her.
"My lady," he whispered and she turned her head from her rapt observation of his member which continued to twist and jump in her hot hand.
"Let me worship you," he breathed, "please my love, let me make you soar. Come here to me baby, I’ll make you feel so good."
Buffy continued to look at Spike inscrutably, then smiled that grin again. Suddenly, without warning, she plunged him into her wet mouth. Spike felt his eyes roll back into his head and tried to focus on football, memories of Harmony nagging, the thought of Giles’ threatening to stake him, anything to dissuade the impending rush he felt as he watch her lips moving up and down on his shaft. He stared at the enticing view of her crooked and crushed crown he had placed on her head that now slipped with every bob of her head.
"Love, no, please, wait." he begged. "Baby, come here, let me touch you," Spike pleaded, attempting to capture her and pull her up beside him. She alluded him and slid to the floor between his knees.
"No, baby, I’m going to touch you, and you are going to cum so hard." She flashed her wicked grin, then returned to her task with a single minded devotion that sent every other thought fleeing from Spike’s mind. She continued to lick and suck him in even deeper, his tip brushing the back of her throat as she relaxed to take him in further. She stroked her silk-covered hand over his balls with just enough pressure to lure him to climax. Spike felt the inevitable pull of his release overtake him and he gave in as she drank him down. She licked him lightly and gave one final soft kiss to the tip of his penis before rising from the floor. Spike wasn’t sure he still had any thoughts at all as he lay back, basking in the afterglow for a moment.
She crawled up beside him and snuggled against the needlessly panting vampire. As he slowed his breathing, she heard the beginnings of the low rumble of a purr she only heard when he was especially content. Her big kitty. She smiled against Spike’s chest, pleased at her success, but clearly seeking further affirmation.
"Did I please you, my faithful knight?" she asked.
Spike could only nod and then turned, capturing her lips in a kiss as he tasted his salt in her mouth. It was his turn to feast on her and he wasted no time, softly stroking her breasts as the kiss deepened. He was certain she was ready for him, that he could slide into her now with no resistance. Clearly her attention to him had added to her excitement. Nonetheless, he wanted the chance to worship between his queen’s thighs and send her into ecstasy a few times before he slid inside her beautiful body.
He slid his hand down, teasing the edge of her silk panties which were now drenched. Her stomach muscles quivered as he slid his fingers under and then out again, each time dipping a little further. He slowly worked the scrap down, as he continued to kiss her passionately, then slid further and knelt between her legs as he pulled them completely off.
For the first time that night, Buffy was entirely naked before him and she felt a slight blush at his worshipful gaze, despite the fact he was quite familiar with her body. He simply stared at her as she lay on the bed, his long, clever hands massaging her feet as he slowly parted her legs and slid his hands up past her calf, up past her knee, up to her inner thighs as her opened her completely to him. Buffy expected another long, teasing, nibbling, expedition until she begged for mercy.
But he had grown impatient for her taste and she inhaled sharply as his face was immediately buried between her legs, to her delight. He started with long broad licks that hit her sensitized nerve endings and made her quiver even more. He began to speak finally, murmurs against her flesh, as his tongue continued to explore. She couldn’t understand the words, if there were any at all, but the vibrations shivered through her as his tongue entered her and his fingers found her clit, gently rubbing.
The pressure was light, not quite enough, until he switched and his long, agile fingers stroked her inside as his tongue sucked and laved the sensitive nerves of her sweet spot. She felt the orgasm that had been building from the first kiss against her forehead begin to swell and she almost, almost, screamed his name as she came, but stopped just in time. He lay his head against her thigh and softly blew air against her sensitive flesh, then began the process again. Buffy was already so strung out that the second orgasm ripped through her in a flash, but he refused to give her any time and began to work her again. Buffy felt as though every nerve ending was on fire and was sobbing by the time she crested into her third, and he slid the tip of his cock against her opening.
"Love, open your eyes," he said, and she found herself unable to resist the command.
Buffy couldn’t help herself, this was beyond the night they brought the house down, beyond the handcuffs and raw fucking that had consumed them in the last few weeks. She locked onto his eyes and felt like she was seeing his heart. He kept his eyes locked to hers as he clasped their hands together and slid, inch by inch, into her.
It was exquisite and she wanted to look away, to shield herself from what she saw in his depths. And then he started to speak. He told her that he loved Guinevere, that she was his heart, his soul, his muse and that he would be hers eternally. The words fell from his lips as he levered himself in and out of her warm depths ever so slowly, with each thrust he whispered his love and devotion.
He played by the rules she’d set up. He never called her Buffy, but she could see it in his eyes. And suddenly, lying under him, clinched together so intimately and tenderly, she felt something started to crack inside. The shell around her heart that every man in her life had contributed to began to shatter and the feelings she had suppressed for longer than she cared to analyze started to pour out of her lips, almost uncontrollably, as he continued making love to her with strong sure thrusts.
She told him how much his sacrifices had meant to her and how she knew he would sacrifice his kingdom for her and how she admired his acts of chivalry. Her voice was shaky and she found herself wondering if he even knew what she was saying, as her revelations were punctuated by sighs and gasps as rolled his hips against hers in slow, steady pace.
Her fingers clutched at his back and she pulled him tighter, watching the swirling depths of his eyes as he took in her declarations of praise. And then, as she feel their tempo increase and the impending rush of orgasm building, she found herself continuing as she told him how she loved that he’d never left her and that he listened to her and didn’t judge her, just told her like it was. Buffy almost felt as though she was separate from this part of her that was babbling these wild things, until she realized, deep inside, that they were true. The good in Spike, the part that had done all of those things for her, wasn’t someone evil. That part of him, the Lancelot part, was someone she wanted and needed in her life.
And so, as the crescendo hit and they peaked together, clutching and shivering and crying, she whispered, softly, but not too softly, "I love you, Lancelot." And realized that, at that moment, she meant it.
His eyes searched hers for something for a long moment as the aftershocks rolled though them and then he gave her the William look and kissed her very softly.
"I love you too, Guinevere."
No further words were exchanged as they wrapped around each other so tightly,
she didn’t know where she began and where he ended. The emotional outpouring caught up
with them both, and Spike and Buffy drifted into sleep.
Chapter 8
Spike lay entertwined in the sheets, clutching Buffy to him, as he felt her heart rate slow and her breaths become even, indicating that sleep had overtaken her. He lay for a moment enjoying the feel of her silken skin against his, as she willingly lay pressed against him, something he couldn’t ever remember her actually doing before. He reached for the blankets at the foot of the bad and pulled the covers over her to ward off the cold, then curled back around her. She signed softly in her sleep as he returned to her embrace and snuggled against him. Spike knew Buffy had thought he was drifting off to dreamland in the aftermath of their lovemaking, but he couldn’t possibly begin to sleep, too much had just been said for him to have any peace. He needed time to process what had just happened.
She’d told him she loved him. Not straight out, but she’d finally said the words. He knew it was supposed to be a sodding role playing game and he wasn’t Spike and she wasn’t Buffy. He knew this was supposed to be some strange little fantasy where they were star crossed lovers who would mouth such platitudes to one another at the height of passion. But surely she knew he could see through the charade? Every word he had said to her tonight, every touch, every statement about what she meant to him was true and he hoped it was for her. She didn’t have to say the things she did. She could easily have allowed him to worship and coddle her all night if that was what the game was all about.
But she hadn’t. Instead she showed some genuine emotion to him in both her actions and words. She’d pleasured him first, something uncharacteristic of her unless she wanted something from him, which she hadn’t tonight. She’d known he was intent on making her feel everything he could - there had been no need for her to persuade him. And she’d stayed with him, something she’d never done since that first night together. She was still here, in his arms, sleeping contentedly and trustingly.
And her words. He knew it was foolish to trust declarations in bed, but she’d never said anything like that before in their encounters. She’d rarely said anything at all to him, other then commands or occasional inarticulate moans or screams of ecstasy, and he was pressed on many occasions to even wring those from her.
She had talked about real things, not the pleasure he was bringing her, not the way she liked the swirl of his hips, the slide of his body, the play of his lips on hers. Rather she’d praised the things he’d done for her in the past to try to show his love, and them affirmed what he had so long hoped for, that a little part of her could love a little part of him. She could call him Lancelot, but he knew she saw Spike when she’d let those words slip from her lips. For the first time in several months, he had hope in his heart. She might not be ready to say those words to him directly, and she might not be willing to accept him as both man and vampire yet, but the time would come. He finally drifted off into slumber, his arms wrapped tight around his beloved Buffy, determined for a better morning after than their first night together.
~*~*~*~*~
She awoke with a start, knowing something was unfamiliar. Buffy stared at the rock ceiling and realized there was a man’s solid chest against her back, his cool arm around her waist. Spike. Deja vu, was she in that wrecked house? And then the memories flooded back. The game, the seduction and the love-making that followed. She didn’t know whether to be concerned or not about what she said to him last night, but he stayed with the game, calling her Guinievere to his Lancelot, so she resolved not to worry about it for the moment.
Last night had been nearly perfect and she had promised herself the entire weekend to enjoy herself. It was only Saturday morning. As long as Spike didn’t get weird on her, she wasn’t willing to walk away from this quite yet. She waited for one of her InnerBuffy voices to perk up and announce she should leave because this was wrong, but decided they all must have enjoyed the previous night as well, because her internal dialogue was strangely silent. Content with her decision, she rolled over and kissed him on the nose, then softly rubbing the tip of her nose against his until he began to twitch against her. One blue eye opened and he smiled.
"Good morning, my lady," he murmured in his husky bedroom voice that always revved her just a little, then reached over to pull her under him for an extended good morning snog.
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, Ahh, he remembers and we’re good, we’re still in the fantasy world, then gave herself over to the joys of Spike kissage.
He finally broke off the kiss and softly spoke as he nuzzled her earlobe, " Love, is there anywhere you have to be, any," he cocked an eyebrow to emphasize the irony, "duties back at the castle?"
"No." Buffy breathed as she maneuvered to return the nuzzling. "I’m with you for the weekend."
Spike’s head pulled back sharply and he stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Love, you mean it, we’re....." he searched for the metaphor, "safe from the castle guards?"
"Yes, they’ve all gone out on the hunt," she replied, remembering the excuse in her dream as she reached for him again.
He suddenly sprung from the bed to her surprise and then reached back down for her. Spike pulled her into his arms and spun her around, around, around, as he danced her around the crypt to music only he can hear. Buffy feel slightly dizzy from the rapid spinning, but was pleased by his enthusiasm at her simple statement. She suddenly realized that at that moment, she was possibly happier than she had been since she came back to earth. Rather than dwell on that thought, she focused on her exuberant knight before her.
Spike finally stopped with the spinning and gently set her at the edge of the bed, then knelt before her, slowly raising one of her hands to his mouth. As he kissed her, Buffy thought they must be a ludicrous sight, both stark naked and rumpled from the previous night, with him kneeling at her feet in such a courtly pose. She ran her free hand through his hair and pulled him back up beside her.
"What do you want to do today?"
He looks at her oddly, then sighed.
"I want to see you in the sunlight," he whispered, them looked down, "but for today, how about we simply stay in and enjoy one another?"
She smiled her agreement and quickly curled back in the bed with him as they slowly moved together, touching and tasting and welcoming the new day. Both realized with relief that they had managed to avoid the bitterness and acrimony that had marked the last time they woke up in each others arms. Neither was quite sure what to make of it, but pushed the thought aside for the time as more enjoyable distractions presented themselves.
Chapter 9
It was about as perfect a day so far as Spike could remember, certainly since he was chipped. He had his Buffy with him, no distractions, just him and her and the rest of the world be damned for the day. He’d managed to curb his sarcasm for once and not saying anything to cause her to flee and she’d kept her insults to a minimum.
And the sex. There was none of the hit and run, slam, bam, thank you ma’am, stuff they had done in the past. Instead they’d shagged each other silly throughout the morning, punctuated by cuddling while they talked and laughed and explored one another. He considered whether he needed to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming and the thought had flitted across his mind more than once that Red must have fallen off the wagon and caused another spell to go wonky, because he had never been with this Buffy before. He wondered, if it was a spell, if he could convince her not to reverse it, because he really liked this version. It was something like having the Bot, in the sense that she was open and kind to him, but so much better, because this was the real thing, complete with her edge and wit, her underlying insecurities and fears, and the beauty of her smile that the Bot had never quite been able to replicate.
He stared down at her, lost in his thoughts, as she pulled him down for another long lingering kiss. They’d just completed another round where the more passive Buffy from last night had reasserted herself, but he didn’t feel used like he normally did. As their tongues tangled around one another, he heard an odd gurgling noise. Buffy started giggling against his mouth.
"What was that?" she smirked at him.
"Ha, bloody, ha - it’s my stomach rumbling, pet. Must be the proximity to all that luscious, warm, pumping Slayer blood." He leered at her and swiped his tongue up the vein in her neck.
Buffy knew she should probably be repulsed, he was after all talking about her blood as food as he ran his mouth over her jugular, but instead she realized she was a little turned on, again. Geez, Buffy, since when did you want to become a buffet for the undead? But she couldn’t help but remember the connection she had felt when Angel had sunk his fangs in her, and not in a gentle way, almost draining her dry. She’d bet Spike would be much more gentle than that and could take just a little if she let him.
Suddenly, she realized where this train of thought was going. Whoa, Buffy, what are you thinking, you can’t let him bite you! She jerked back to reality as she realized he was still lightly licking her throat in what she had to admit was a very non-threatening and arousing manner. Wait, is he putting me under some sort of thrall? Is this how they lure a victim in? She jerked his head back, harder than she meant to, and rolled to the other side of the bed, panting heavily, refusing to look at him. Spike sighed, realizing he’d crossed a line he shouldn’t have. But at least she hadn’t punched him, or run away. He needed to repair this situation, and fast.
"Luv, wait here a minute, I have something for you." With that, he turned and strode up the stairs to the top of his crypt. Buffy waited, thoughts racing as she paced around the lower half of his crypt. Part of her wanted to leave right now and forget this weird game she’d come up with. He was a vampire. He would drink her blood if he could.
But that was the thing. He could drink her blood. She was the one person in the world he could bite with no pain and he’d held her all night long, twice now, while she slept. And he’d never touched her, never tried to bite her. She sighed. She knew he’d just been playing with her now as he licked at her neck. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t turn her down if she were to offer her blood. But that’s what it would take, her free will offer, for him to do that to her. She realized that she trusted him with this and reassured, she returned to the bed, wrapping herself in the sheet sarong style as she waited for his return with whatever he’d run off for.
He surprised her when he returned with the peace offering of the stash of snacks he gotten for her. She realized his wasn’t the only stomach rumbling and she grabbed some fruit and a water from the bundle he placed in front of her. They sat in companionable silence, not really looking at one another, as he’d drank his blood and she polished off some more food. He finally broke the silence with an apology.
"Bu...... Guinievere, I didn’t mean to frighten you." He started and stopped as her fingers settled against his mouth.
"It’s all right, I know," she told him, then replaced her fingers for a soft, light kiss. As she pulled back, she grinned at him.
"How about I kick you butt in a little friendly game of cards?" She pulled the deck she had found laying on his bookshelf out from under the covers and waved them in front of him, lightening the mood.
Spike smirked at her as he felt the earlier tension lift. "Well, luv, what are the stakes? I don’t play for peanuts."
He knew he’d beat her. He had years of experience and he doubted Buffy knew much beyond the basics. She smirked back and announced the winner had to answer whatever question the loser wanted honestly.
Spike agreed to the bet and dealt the first hand. As he’d suspected, she was bloody awful, with no poker face, but as the game proceeded, she kept shifting and fidgeting, and the sheet wrapped around her started a slow slide that soon left her top bare to his gaze. Despite the fact he’d spent a good deal of the morning in constant with said bosom, he found himself paying more attention to her perky nipples, which had hardened as he watched, than to the cards in his hand. She won the round. He narrowed his eyes as he realized her little strategy, and decided to bring his own assets into play.
As he dealt the next hand, he flexed his muscles and posed himself across the bed, trailing his hand across his chest and well defined abs as he discarded a pair and reached to draw two cards from the deck. He felt some triumph at the slightly glazed look in Buffy’s eyes as she followed his hand but then realized he had accomplished very little. As she also requested two cards, she raised up, shimmying slightly as she reached for the cards from him, a completely unnecessary gesture, but one which caused the sheet to fall from her totally, leaving her nude body stretching across towards him entirely exposed. He blanked out entirely as he handed her the cards and lost that hand as well.
All right Spike, bring out the big guns, er gun, he thought to himself as he prepared the next hand. He rapidly dealt the cards, but before he could decide his next move, he was distracted by the soft moan from the other side of the bed. Buffy was staring intently at the cards in her hand, as though the answers to the world were written in which she should keep and which she should discard. But despite her apparent concentration on that hand, he found his mouth grow dry as he watched what her other was doing. She was slowly massaging the nipple of one breast that he had admired earlier, lightly pulling on the small nub, small murmurs of pleasure escaping from her throat as she did so. He continued to watch in fascination, game completely forgotten, as she moved to tease her other nipple in a similar fashion, all the while staring intently at the cards.
Buffy watched out of the corner of her eye at Spike’s rapt attention on her. She knew she almost had him, and hoped he would jump her pretty soon and admit she’d won her little game. Besides, she was so ready for him. She was going to have to make him watch more often, this was actually kind of fun to see him get all hot and bothered from watching her. She prepared for the deal sealer as she let her hand drift from her breasts southward and slid two finders between her legs, letting out a slow moan as she did so.
She didn’t have to wait long, because she felt the cards go flying as Spike leaped across the bed and pounced on her. She heard his low growl as he pulled her hand up and licked her fingers clean, then replace them with him much larger cock, driving himself in to her hot depths in one stroke as she gripped him tightly. Her climax was not long in coming and his followed on her heels as Buffy broke into uncontrollable giggles.
Spike lifted his head from his comfortable resting spot on her breasts where he had collapsed.
"What’s so funny, kitten?"
"Nothing," Buffy replied, "I’m pretty sure I just won, but I think we both got the prize."
He smiled back and pecked her lips, then decided to pay up. How bad could a little Q & A be? He could always find ways to distract her if things got uncomfortable. He propped himself against the headboard, pulled her onto his lap and took a deep breath. "All right, luv, what do you want to know?"
She stroked his cheek and he was surprised when she asked him to tell her about Lancelot when he was a little boy. That wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting, but suddenly, he realized that he was fine with her knowing more about William, as least something about the man he’d been. So he obliged her, telling her about his younger sister, the small home they shared with their parents, his first year at university. She laughed at some of the tales, grew sad when he told her about his sister’s early passing.
Spike looked down at the bundle in his lap and realized how little he knew about her early days as well. He’d seen some of the albums of photos during that horrible summer after her death, but there were a lot of things Nibblet hadn’t wanted to talk about. So he asked her the same question. She told him about her life pre-Sunnydale, her Dorothy Hamill obsession, her strange planted memories of Dawn that all seemed to fit, her parent’s painful divorce, the trouble she’d started to have in school as her popularity had faded in light of her calling.
After a time, they both drifted into a comfortable silence as he continued to hold her close, sliding a hand up and down her spine, until he finally broke the quiet by commenting that nightfall was coming soon. She pulled away at that statement and shooed him up the stairs. He was a little confused by her directive, but obeyed after she mumbled something about needing a drink because she was so parched.
As he mounted the stairs he could hear her meandering humming as she dug into the bag she had brought with her. She sounded happy, they’d patched up his little faux pas early, so what was she up to? Was she dressing? Was she leaving? Why now? She had promised him until tomorrow. Had he frightened her somehow? He thought William was a pretty frightful little poof, but she’d seemed to enjoy the tales. He quickly retrieved a bottle of water and the wine, along with a few glasses, and descended again to see what she was doing.
At the sight that greeted him, he almost broke that bottle he’d been carrying. Buffy stood before him in a pale champagne colored negligee, looking like a goddess. She had brushed her hair out and it lay like spun gold around her face. He knew that if he hadn’t already loved her more than unlife itself, he would have been her slave from that moment on. Somehow, the simple negligee managed to made her look both virginal and seductive at the same time. A shy smile graced her face as she looked up at him and asked quietly, "Do you like it?"
Spike carefully set down the wine and water and walked to take her in his arms. He came very close to calling her Buffy, but remembered in time and reverted to his assigned role to keep this fantasy going a little longer.
"You’re not my Guinevere, you’re Aphrodite, my love goddess. I would never have believed I would rather see you clothed, but you look so bloody amazing, my sweetheart."
She dimpled and seemed to be pleased with the compliments as he backed her towards the bed and leaned her against the bedpost, drawing her in for a slow kiss as he rucked her gown up to her waist. He sank to his knees as he held her in place and immediately buried his face in her moist heat. The feel of the gown sliding down and cocooning him between her thighs almost made Spike feel drunk and dizzy with the heady taste of her in his mouth. He’d been hard from the moment he saw her, and his first instinct had been to sink himself into this beautiful creature who seemed to want to please him and stay there forever, feeling her muscles drawing him into heaven. But he knew it would be so much better this way.
The combination of the taste of her liquid essence in his mouth, the soft steel of her thighs clasped around him, the breathy moans he could hear her making as she urged him on, the feel of her tight bud quivering under his tongue, all combined to send him into sensory overload. The only thing that could have possibly have improved the moment was for her to have granted permission to taste her, just once, a tiny sip of her blood to mix with the rest of her essence. He persisted until she came, her inner muscles clutching around his fingers so tightly he thought they might break. As he pulled himself from under her gown, he was treated to the sight of his Buffy, flushed and glowing, looking as though he was the only thing in the world she could see at that moment.
She wasted no time but pulled him up and pushed him onto the bed, mounting him, sinking slowly on his hard as nails cock. He watched as she rode him, eyes mostly closed, yet flickering open to watch his face from time to time as he massaged her breasts. She quickened her pace again as he worked his hand under the pool of silk of the negligee and teased her until she came, as he followed close behind. Buffy collapsed against his chest, holding him to her and sighing as she drifted to sleep. He was sure he heard her murmur, "Love you," as she drifted off, and this time, she didn’t say Lancelot. He tucked that thought away, and pulled her tight as he followed her into the arms of Morpheus.
~*~*~*~*~
They awoke several times more during the night and continued to make love to each other, a slight feeling of desperation gripping both as the hours slipped towards dawn. Sometimes their coupling was faster, sometimes slower, but the emotions and connections between them remained strong, even though they both refrained from any verbal expressions of what they were feeling. Spike no longer felt as though he was servicing her or a toy she could use to get off with. He realized that he was a man to her for that night, someone she wanted, someone she could love. And he knew that what they had shared was something so powerful that he would never be the same. He was more than a little afraid that wasn’t the case for her, and that when the harsh light of day broke, she would turn on the denial she had perfected to an art. But something deep inside wanted to try to keep this spark alive between them, and he slipped from the bed to grab pen and paper before his idea slipped away, leaving her curled in his bed.
He returned to her warmth as soon he could, still unsure about what he’d done. At some point while he was gone, she’d stripped off the gown so there was nothing between them now as he brought her back into his arms. They lay pressed together, flesh to flesh, from shoulder to ankle, as close as they could get, neither saying a word. As morning neared, he pulled her leg over his and angled their bodies so he could slide deep within her. He knew she would have to leave soon, and he wanted one more time to remember, in case they never played this game again. He took her slowly, making each move, each thrust, each slide of body against body count, until they both reached long, deep orgasms that shimmered through them. He could hear her quiet sobs as they slowly came down and he kissed her face over and over. He didn’t need to ask why she was crying. He knew and he wanted to weep with her for what had been and might never be again. But the Big Bad didn’t cry, even if he felt he’d lose a part of himself forever when she walked out after tonight, a part he wasn’t sure she’d ever return. Parting was sweet sorrow and the lark would soon sing and this little idyll would be over and she would be gone. He pulled her close and stroked her back as they drifted off one last time.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy slowly opened her eyes and realized time was up. Game over. She looked at his face, softened in slumber next to her and reached over to softly touch his lips.
His eyes opened and he knew the answer as he asked the question. "So you’re going then?"
She nodded, not really trusting herself to speak. Buffy was afraid if she kissed him or touched him again she would lose the battle, break down in front of him and sob out that she hated this ridiculous game she’d made them play. She was so stupid to think she could solve anything this way. He’d made her feel more love and more alive than she ever had, and this vampire wasn’t supposed to make her feel those things, wasn’t supposed to be capable of feeling those things himself.
She turned away from him before she broke down and left the bed. Buffy mechanically pulled her clothes from the duffle, a simple pair of jeans and a top. She carefully folded the sundress and underwear he’d left laying on the chair, but noticed that he was holding the negligee she discarded on the bed.
"Love, can I keep this," he swallowed, staring down at the gown and not meeting her gaze.
She nodded. Taking it with her would only bring back too many memories she wasn’t sure she could bottle up. She knew for a fact she could never wear that particular garment for another man. Buffy walked over to Spike, still lying on the bed, and stood before him, not touching him, just being with him, breathing him in one last time.
"I have something for you," he said and reached under his pillow for a slim envelope. That explained where he’d gone to in the night, Buffy thought. She took the missive, which had Guinevere written on the front in his somewhat old-fashioned script.
"Read it when you get home."
She nodded yet again, still unsure of her ability to use words.
"Right then, I’ll walk you out." Spike rose from the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, then put his hand on the small of her back and walked her to the door in the upper portion of his crypt. They stopped just short of the reach of the rays of the early morning light and Spike dropped to his knees before her, much like he had when he’d first greeted her in the graveyard. Buffy bit her lip so hard she could feel the skin break as she stared down at his beautiful face. He presented such a different picture to her now, his hair rumpled from her caresses, his eyes still soft and loving, not hard and cold as they could be at times. She dared to reach out and run one finger along his sharp cheekbone as he reached to take her hands in his.
Spike waited until she met his eyes, then prepared to speak, trying hard to keep the waver out of his voice. He had to get this right, had to make her see that no matter what, she could always come back to him. He cleared his throat and began.
"Guinevere, you know I love you with all my heart. I know that I’m not worthy of you. But, luv, please remember, I may be a dark knight but I’m yours to command, whenever and wherever. Whatever you need, love, affection, sex, an ear to listen, someone to play with or someone to cry with, I’m yours, until the end of the world."
He refused to meet her eyes again, just dropped a quick kiss on both her hands, then turned and descended into the lower half of the crypt without looking back.
Chapter 10
Buffy stumbled out the door and started home on shaky legs, still not entirely sure what had happened in those final moments. The quiet declaration followed by the quick exit wasn’t really Spike’s style. She had thought he might make a scene or at least try to coax her into staying for one more round, but he hadn’t. In fact, he’d been almost distant and detached, despite his words.
Slightly confused, she looked down at the hands he had just kissed and the letter she still carried that he had written her. She wanted to read what he’d written, see if it answered her questions or made things more confusing, but she needed to get home before the others returned and discovered her absence. She tucked the letter away and started towards Revello Drive in the early morning light.
~*~*~*~*~
Her first stop when she reached home was the bath, knowing she was probably quite fragrant with the combined odors of him and her and their lovemaking all over her body. As she showered, she found a few tears rolling down her cheeks as she remembered the touches and caresses and incredible closeness of the weekend that was now gone. Buffy stepped from the shower and took a deep breath, shoving the memories aside for later contemplation and steeling herself to present a perkiness to Dawn and Willow as they returned.
She had just finished her makeup and descended to the basement to load the first round of laundry when she heard the front door open.
"Buffy, you home?" Willow called.
"Down here," she replied, adding the capful of detergent and setting the machine in motion.
She ascended the steps to find Willow in the kitchen.
"Hey Will, have a good weekend with the parents?"
Willow nodded. "OK, I guess. We did the usual, avoiding anything really important and focusing on my schoolwork, major, where I should think about for grad school."
She sighed. "Buffy, sometimes, I don’t even know if this is what I want anymore. I mean it’s like I don’t know who I’m supposed to be. I really thought I had a handle on things, I was finally getting comfortable with myself, then bam, the magic blew up in my face, Tara left me and I’m not even doing that great in school any more, since I’ve missed so much class. It’s like I’m just empty Willow now."
She paused, hesitant to ask the next question. "Buffy, I know you’ve been talking to Tara some. How is she? Does she ever ask about me?"
"Willow, she misses you."
As Buffy responded to Willow’s concerns, she couldn’t help but wish she could spill to her best friend in the same way and receive some comfort herself. She remembered how they used to discuss her love life, with Angel, then Riley, even Parker. Willow had always been supportive of her.
She was very confused about what she’d done with her weekend and she desperately felt the need for some advice. If she told Willow, would she get angry or attack her for being with Spike? Willow knew what unconventional relationships were like.
"She doesn’t say things directly, but I know she worries about you still. You just have to give it time and earn back her trust. You really shook her up with the magic tricks." Buffy continued,
And there it was, the reason she couldn’t tell Willow. Trust. She wasn’t sure who she trusted and who would still trust her if they knew all her dirty little secrets. Willow, Xander, even Giles over in merry olde England. She didn’t know who would support her and who would turn on her for what she’d done.
So when Willow asked her about her weekend, she deflected the question with a general response. "Oh, I hung around, played some cards, watched some TV, you know, vegged a little."
Willow accepted her answer without comment, and Buffy felt a little relived. She wasn’t ready to discuss this yet, even with her best friend. She wasn’t sure she even knew how to verbalize what had happened, what she’d felt, and the tentative connection that might or might not be there.
The day passed as she finishing some other light housekeeping, made inroads into the dirty laundry and finally settled down to wait for Dawn’s return. She soon found herself lost in a flashback to the previous day, when Spike had trapped her underneath him, and forced her to listen to his unbelievably horrible repertoire of vampire jokes.
~*~*~*~*~
"All right pet, how about this one... What do you call a dog owned by a vampire?"
She’d grimaced and frowned, as he lightly goosed her ribs.
"A blood hound, get it?"
She’d groaned, but he’d been on a roll.
"What was the Californian hippie vampire like?"
She’d shrugged, sure the answer was ridiculous and was correct, as he tried to fake his "friend of Xander" accent.
"He was ghoul man, ghoul. Wait, wait, one last one."
She’d giggled and squirmed against him, relishing the feel of his smooth skin against hers and the chance to laugh and have fun in bed.
"What’s a vampire’s favorite food?" His voice had returned to that sexy British accent as he stared deep in her eyes.
"Um.. Blood?" ventured Buffy.
He’d grinned. "No, neck-tarines," he’d announced as he dived to nuzzle that portion of her anatomy.
She’d gasped a little, but realized he was still in play mode as he continued to tickle her lightly, She’d begun to return the torture, finding out Spike had more than one sensitive spot, until they’d eventually changed to more seductive caresses and....
~*~*~*~*~
The door slammed as Buffy jumped slightly to see Dawn staring at her strangely.
"Jeez Buffy, off in la-la land?"
Buffy attempted to regain her composure and hide the fact that she was likely blushing from Dawn. "Dawnie, you’re home - did you have a good time at the lake?"
"Yeah, it was great and Karen’s cousins were way cool. We had a good time and I did all my homework." She proudly displayed the completed assignments for Buffy’s perusal.
"That’s good Dawn. I’m glad you had a nice weekend."
"What about you, what’d you do here all by yourself?"
Buffy felt the blush start to rise again as some X-rated thoughts of the weekend flitted quickly though her mind, and tried to shrug nonchalantly.
"You know, just hung out, enjoyed the peace and quiet."
Dawn grabbed her travel bag and started up the stairs to call Janice and gloat about her weekend. "That’s great Buffy, I’m gonna go unpack. Thanks again for letting me go this weekend, you’re the best."
Buffy stood and stretched. She’d do a quick patrol, in cemeteries other than Spike’s, then an early bedtime for her. She really hadn’t got much sleep this weekend.
~*~*~*~*~
Patrol was uneventful for the most part and Buffy took down the few new risers quite quickly. She decided things were quiet enough that she could call it a night and feel okay about her sacred duty. And she could finally read that letter she’d been both anticipating and dreading all day.
What would Spike have written her? Did he already have another game in mind? She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to play again, but she thought she might.
Or would he ruin things and make some ultimatum to her? Love him or leave him? She really hoped not. She sighed and unlocked the front door and mounted the steps to her room.
The house was quiet, she suspected that Willow and Dawn were both already asleep. She closed the door softly, then for good measure locked it as well. She slipped out of her patrol clothes, pulled on her pajama pants and tank top, then settled into the bed, pulling the envelope from beneath her pillow where she’d stashed it. Looking at the envelope with the scrawling script on the front for a long moment, she turned it over and opened it up, pulling out a piece of paper covered in the same script. She began to read the poem it contained.
Like souls that balance joy and pain,
With tears and smiles from heaven again
The maiden Spring upon the plain
Came in a sunlit fall of rain.
In crystal vapor everywhere
Blue isles of heaven laugh'd between,
And far, in forest-deeps unseen,
The topmost elm-tree gather'd green
From draughts of balmy air.
Sometimes the linnet piped his song;
Sometimes the throstle whistled strong;
Sometimes the sparhawk, wheel'd along,
Hush'd all the groves from fear of wrong;
By grassy capes with fuller sound
In curves the yellowing river ran,
And drooping chestnut-buds began
To spread into the perfect fan,
Above the teeming ground.
Then, in the boyhood of the year,
Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere
Rode thro' the coverts of the deer,
With blissful treble ringing clear.
She seem'd a part of joyous Spring;
A gown of grass-green silk she wore,
Buckled withh golden clasps before;
A light-green tuft of plumes she bore
Closed in a golden ring.
Now on some twisted ivy-net,
Now by some tinkling rivulet,
In mosses mixt withh violet
Her cream-white mule his pastern set;
And fleeter now she skimm'd the plains
Than she whose elfin prancer springs
By night to eery warblings,
When all the glimmering moorland rings
With jingling bridle-reins.
As she fled fast thro' sun and shade,
The happy winds upon her play'd,
Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd
The rein with dainty finger-tips,
A man had given all other bliss,
And all his worldly worth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips.
My Dearest Buffy,
Poetry has never been my gift. I wish I had the words to properly tell you how I feel, but I have robbed Tennyson for expressions far more melodious than mine.
Thank you for this weekend and this game. I have wanted nothing more than a chance to love and cherish you, if only for a few short days and nights, for longer than I care to admit. You are as all-encompassing to me as Guinevere was to Lancelot. Buffy, I would truly give up all other bliss, everything I am, for you. You’ve made me a better monster and a better man.
I know there was something between us this weekend. I felt something changing in you. Please, my lady, give us a chance. I’m not what I was and I can become so much more, if you’ll only be my guide.
The emotions she had managed to stifle for most of the day ripped through her as she gripped the sheet of paper in her hand and read his words a second time. And slowly the realization sunk in that she was a fool for coming up with that game and dragging these issues out for both of them. Why had she ever imagined that she could disguise Spike’s feeling and her feelings by calling each other some other name?
He was right, as he usually was in reading her, something had changed in her, a little. He’d held her, made love to her, cherished her in a way she hadn’t known was possible until this weekend and she had responded in kind.
But did she love him? Could she love him? She was so afraid of the answer to that question. Part of her wanted to say she did or at least thought she could and then build on what had just happened between them. Or was she still just caught up in the afterglow of the romance?
Part of her knew that she didn’t love him, at least not all of him, and probably never could. He was a vampire, the thing she was chosen to fight and destroy. He might not be killing anymore but he was still a demon. Was there any way a Slayer could have a legitimate relationship with a vampire, even a chipped one?
And deep down was the worst fear of all. She was incapable of truly loving him and maybe of truly loving anyone. But that concept was too painful to explore.
Maybe the answer was to not answer it. Maybe there was no answer. Her mind raced. She knew all the arguments by heart. But she really wasn’t sure what was in her heart.
Suddenly, she was angry with him. He’d broke the rules of the game. It wasn’t suppose to intrude into real life, it wasn’t supposed to leave his crypt, that den of debauchery where she could hide from the rest of the world and block out reality. It wasn’t supposed to be real and messy and hard. But he’d brought in out in the open and was calling her on her bluff. Would she take him up on it?
She understood now his parting words. He had wanted to reassure her that he was still there for her even if she once again refused his offer of a real relationship. He’d still be a shoulder to cry on, a punching-bag, a quick physical release for her. But it wouldn’t be the same. She’d felt how good it could be between them and knew it was never going to be quite the same again. And it could be so much more. That thought danced elusively through her head, taunting her with the possibilities.
Buffy tossed and turned until the wee hours of the morning until she realized what she had to do. She snapped on her light and read the poem one final time, feeling foolish as she softly kissed the paper. Then she ripped the letter to shreds.
She’d made up her mind. The answer was not to answer. The only way to handle this was to pretend it never happened and let things return to normal. Spike, for all his pretty poetry and language and actions and love, was still a vampire without a soul and if his chip ever failed, she couldn’t take the chance. She couldn’t be his moral compass, because frankly, at times she doubted hers. Couldn’t risk the possibility of another Angel situation, where she would have to sacrifice her love for the world.
She didn’t think she had the strength to do it again. She wasn’t sure that if the time came, she could look into those expressive blue orbs and strike the killing blow. So she shouldn’t take the chance. Couldn’t love him with all her heart.
How could she face him again? She wasn’t sure she could give him up entirely, but this made things awkward, despite his reassurances. She almost couldn’t imagine life without him in it. He’d been the one person she’d run to ever since she’d returned.
Maybe she could slowly decrease their contact, start patrolling at odd times to avoid him, hang out with her friends more, go Bronzing, make buddies at work, get some other support structures. That was the strategy. After all, hadn’t that been the point of the little game, feel some emotions so she could reconnect with humanity, not her undead knight?
She was such a fool. The possibilities for happiness, the potential for love, it had all been so close and she should have known better, should have known that those things weren’t meant for a Slayer. So now she’d have to pay the price and deal with the pain. As she rolled over to sleep, a deep sadness overwhelmed her and she allowed herself one last cry as she let go of the budding love that had blossomed inside her. It’s better this way became the mantra she chanted as sleep finally claimed her.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike lay on his bed, chain smoking as he stared at the ceiling. Maybe the letter had been a mistake. Maybe he had pushed too hard. Maybe he should have just let her leave. But he didn’t know the outcome yet and he would hang on to hope as long as he could.
He stroked the negligee that lay draped across his torso. Maybe she wouldn’t come running back with open arms and drag him off to "meet the scoobies", but he knew something had changed and he was determined to follow up while the iron was hot.