Chapter 8

Spike sat at the dining table, reading the Sunday paper and eating some oatmeal. It was close to 10:30 AM. He had found sleep elusive and had spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about her. The phone rang.

“Hello?” answered Spike.

“So? How did it go?” asked Xander.

“How did what go?” responded Spike, momentarily confused.

“Harmony!” responded Xander. “It seemed like she really liked you. I mean, she did ask you to drive her home. So?” asked Xander.

“Yeah, she liked me alright,” said Spike, sounding bored.

“But you didn’t like her?” said Xander with disbelief.

“Not really,” said Spike as he brought his hand up and ran his fingers through his hair, inadvertently loosening it and making some of the ends stick up haphazardly.

“Maybe you didn’t give her enough of a chance,” speculated Xander. “Maybe you should just go with it for a bit. She’s a beautiful girl. She’s obviously attracted to you-” began Xander.

“We just didn’t click,” said Spike, walking over to the table so that he could take another sip of coffee. “The chemistry just wasn’t there. It was alright, good even, but not great, not what I want, not what I need.”

“So, you and Harmony did?” asked Xander.

“We kissed, that’s all. She was offering, but it just didn’t seem right,” said Spike as he sat back down.

“Spike?” responded Xander.

“Yeah?” answered Spike.

“I’m officially taking away your Guy Card. If I were there I would hit you upside the head. Did you not notice her tits?” asked Xander.

“They were kind of hard not to notice,” said Spike. He leaned back in the chair and allowed himself the brief memory of how her breast had felt, cupped in the palm of his hand. As she moved in and kissed him goodnight Harmony had boldly lead his hand under her sweater, placed it over her right breast and encouraged him, guided him… Just then, someone beeped in.

“Hold on. Hello?” said Spike.

“Spike? It’s me. I’m glad I caught you,” replied Buffy, sounding all business.

“I missed you this morning,” said Spike, lowering his voice.

Buffy swallowed and nervously said, “Y-you did?”

“Yeah, well, I slept late. When I woke up you were already… Where are you, anyways?” he asked.

“The mall, I had to do some clothes shopping. Then I’m going over to Ikea to order the bedroom stuff for Dawn’s room,” said Buffy.

Spike heard a knocking sound, and then he heard a voice say, “Buffy? We don’t have your cup size in the beige, just black, red, and ivory.”

“Try on the red,” said Spike as he felt his heart rate pick up. “Red’s my favorite color.”

“What? Hold on,” said Buffy as she sat the phone down, opened the dressing room door, and accepted the handful of lingerie that the sales lady was offering.

“Ok,” she said as she picked the phone back up. “What were you saying?”

“You’re trying on lingerie?” asked Spike, his mind conjuring up an image of her, standing before him in nothing but a red lace bra and thong. “Describe it. The more detail the better.”

“Spike, are you wearing pants?” asked Buffy, her eyes narrowing.

“Yeah,” he said looking down at himself and shifting a bit. “But they’re becoming uncomfortable. I could take them off. Ask me.”

“I’m not having phone sex with you,” said Buffy as she felt herself beginning to blush. She quickly removed her panties.

“Tell me I’m imagining this. Tell me you don’t feel it. The attraction,” said Spike in a low, sexy voice.

Buffy leaned back against the door to the dressing room and closed her eyes. Her hand slid across the full mounds of her breasts, then down the length of her stomach. As her fingers reached her center they slid easily between her folds, dipping into the hot wetness. “I feel it,” she said, slightly breathless. “But we can’t…we shouldn’t…”

“Tell me what you’re doing,” said Spike as he unzipped his jeans. “The sound of you’re breathing… it’s-”

“Wrong,” said Buffy as she looked at herself in the mirror and quickly removed her hand. She turned around, resting her head against the door. After taking a deep breath she said, “Spike, it doesn’t matter if I’m attracted to you. I can’t act on that. I won’t act on that. My sister’s moving into that apartment in just a few days. She’s going to need my attention, my focus. She’s going to need stability. No.”

“No, as in eventually?” asked Spike as he stood and zipped up his jeans.

“Maybe you should go out with that Harmony again, it seemed like she really liked you,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. She sniffed reflexively.

“I don’t want Harmony. What I want… Are you crying?” asked Spike, feeling confused. “You’re not being true to yourself. You’re not being honest.”

“I’m not attainable,” said Buffy.

“Have dinner with me?” asked Spike.

“That’s why I was calling, actually. I invited my friends Willow and Tara over for dinner,” said Buffy.

“Right!” replied Spike. “I can go to a movie of something, stay out of the way.”

“What? No! They want to meet you,” explained Buffy. “I want you to be there. Please?”

“Buffy?” asked Spike. “You do realize that you give off a lot of mixed signals right?”

“Maybe that’s because I’m really mixed up?” asked Buffy, hesitantly.

Spike smiled and asked, “How does lasagna sound?”

“That depends,” said Buffy. “Am I making it or are you?”

“Me,” said Spike. “I’ve got the left-over Bolognese sauce in the freezer. It’ll be a snap. Tell them to come around 6:00.”

“Thanks, Spike!” said Buffy, getting ready to hang up.

“We’re going to talk more about this,” warned Spike before clicking back over to Xander.

“Sorry, Xan!” said Spike.

“Jesus! What the hell took you so long?” asked Xander.

“It was Buffy. We had phone sex. I was trying to draw out her pleasure. It took a while to make her come,” said Spike, dryly.

“Wow. Maybe you don’t have to go back to Remedial Guy Camp, afterall. In fact, you might just be my new hero. But, she’s your roommate. Couldn’t that get, I don’t know, complicated?” asked Xander.

“I expect it’s going to get very complicated,” said Spike as he refilled his coffee cup and took the Bolognese sauce out of the freezer.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this little chat, I was actually calling to speak with Buffy. I’m bowing out of doing the home visit tomorrow, potential conflict and all that. Bonnie over in the Continued Services department agreed to do it. If all goes well she can place Dawn in the home maybe as early as Wednesday, Friday at the latest. And then, Bonnie will just keep the case,” finished Xander.

“Let me give you Buffy’s cell number,” offered Spike before rattling it off.

“Spike? The kids going to need a therapist, she’s not talking,” said Xander.

“She’s been through a traumatic event. It could take a long time before she feels ready to talk about it,” offered Spike as he took another sip of coffee.

“No. It’s not that she won’t talk about it. She’s not talking at all. Not one word. Not since the police found her,” said Xander.

“Is she catatonic?” asked Spike.

“No. She’s responsive. Just mute,” replied Xander.

“Tell Bonnie we’ll plan for Friday. I’ll take the day off. That way we’ll have three days with her before Monday. Is she going to be able to go to school?” asked Spike.

“They think so. She’s following directions and processing,” said Xander. “Bonnie was going to talk to Buffy about getting her signed up at Grant. It’s within walking distance from where you are.”

“I’ll talk you on Monday, Xan. Thanks for everything, buddy,” said Spike before hanging up the phone.

Spike walked over to the smaller, third bedroom and peered into it. There was nothing inside. Not one piece of furniture. Not one stitch of fabric. Not one bit of color. It was empty.

Spike walked back out to the kitchen, picked up the phone and dialed Buffy’s cell.

“Hello?” answered Buffy who was standing in line at the register.

“It’s me. Did Xander reach you?” asked Spike.

“Yeah. We just hung up,” said Buffy.

“I’m not sure Ikea is the best idea,” said Spike.

“Why not?” asked Buffy.

“I don’t know,” said Spike walking back over and looking again into the empty room. “Yes, I do. She’s going to need warmth. She’s going to need comfort. She doesn’t need cold, hard lines, and furniture without history. I’m painting the room yellow,” he said.

“You have something in mind?” asked Buffy.

“Yeah, I saw some stuff yesterday while I was out shopping for my table. There was a sleigh bed and nightstand in the same shop. The sales girl seemed to take a shine to me, maybe if I talk dirty for her we can get a deal,” said Spike.

“You’d do that for me?” asked Buffy.

“You know I would,” said Spike, smiling. “And, a lot more than that. You want to meet down there?”

“Sure!” said Buffy.

“Go buy a twin-sized mattress and box-springs. I’ll run over and buy the paint, maybe stop by for some bedding. We’ll meet at, say 2:00 outside of the Antique Row Café?” suggested Spike. “We can be back here and painting by 3:00 give or take.”

“What’s this we stuff?” asked Buffy.

“You’re painting, too. I’m tired of doing all of the work in this relationship; all I do is give, give, give! And, do you appreciate me? No! If you don’t help me paint I’m not putting out for you tonight! I have pride you know! Standards!” said Spike before hanging up the phone. He immediately pressed the call button and dialed.

“Good morning!” answered Lorne.

“Lorne?” asked Spike. “It’s me. I need some decorating advice for a little girl’s room. Can you meet me at Bed Bath and Beyond in forty-five minutes?”

Chapter 9

Spike lifted up the end of the braid that ran down Buffy’s back and said, “Uh, Buffy? I think somehow you dipped your braid in the paint?”

He walked around to face her and brought the tip up in front of her face to show her the evidence, a glob of yellow paint. The two of them had been working on painting Dawn’s room for a couple hours. Since the room was empty it took little time to prepare for painting. After changing into work clothes, they covered the floor with a large drop cloth and masked it off. Then they masked off the ceiling, the one window, poured up the paint and went to town. Spike took charge of rolling on the quick drying cheery yellow latex paint that he had purchased earlier in the day. Buffy had taken on the task of cutting in around the baseboards, corners and the one small window. The room had already begun to take on a much different feel.

“How did that happen?” asked Buffy.

“Don’t know, but it’s managed to drip down you back too. Aren’t you glad that you listened to me and changed into work clothes? Let’s hear you say I was right…” said Spike as he teasingly waved the paint-covered tip of her hair in front of her nose.

“You did it!” she gasped. “You did it on purpose! Like some little boy, you went and dipped the end of my hair in the paint.”

“I most certainly did not!” replied Spike as he bent down to add more paint to the roller. “This second coat is going on much faster. It’s a good thing too, we don’t have much time before our guests arrive and I’m in desperate need of a shower. How about you open the window? It’s like a bloody furnace in here.”

“It’s not hot in here, you’re just all sweaty!” said Buffy as she struggled to open the window.

Spike began to chuckle.

“What?” she asked turning to look at him.

He walked over to her, placed his hand on her wrist and twisted her arm so that she could see the long path of yellow paint that stretched down the length. “You must have brushed it against the wall,” he said, smiling as he pushed the window open. Then, looking at her he added, “You look good in yellow.”

Buffy impulsively dipped her paintbrush back into the paint and flicked it towards him, spattering his white t-shirt, chin and neck with the bright color.

Spike stood there for a second, his mouth gaped open wide, speechless. He looked down at himself and then up at her. Before he could say anything Buffy burst out in a fit of laughter. “You look…You look…Oh, Oh…You look kind of mad…Spike?”

Spike didn’t say a word. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared slightly as he took a step towards her. She looked beautiful, wide-eyed and breathing heavily. The image played through his mind in the space of a second. Buffy’s nude body pressed up against the wall, covered in wet paint. He could feel his arousal building and he wanted desperately to give into it.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl,” he said as he walked towards her.

“P-P-Please, don’t hurt me. I’m sorry. I was just being playful,” said Buffy.

Suddenly Spike registered her fear and his expression immediately softened. He set the roller down on the tray and softly said, “I would never hurt you, luv.”

Buffy’s breaths were coming in heavy pants, her face was flush and she looked almost panicked. The knuckles on the hand that gripped the paintbrush were white and the hand itself was trembling.

“It’s alright,” said Spike as he walked over to her and slowly placed his hand over hers. “It’s alright.”

Her eyes tentatively rose to meet his and she gave him a shy, hesitant smile.

“Someone’s hurt you before,” said Spike. “A man.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Buffy turning her head slightly and breaking eye contact. But, not before he saw her eyes begin to glisten with tears.

Spike nodded his understanding, content to leave well enough alone, for now. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, pet. I was going to resort to that age-old fool-proof strategy called tickling to get the brush away from you.”

“Wouldn’t have worked,” said Buffy, defiantly lifting her chin in the air, any evidence of impending tears vanishing. “I’m not ticklish!”

“I have a theory about that,” said Spike as he began to walk his fingers up the side of her torso. “See? I think I just…need…to find…the right…spot.” Spike wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her closer to him and with the other he attacked the side of her stomach.

Buffy squealed and managed to break loose, but only for an instant, then he had her captured again, unmercifully tickling her sides. Peals of laughter escaped her lips and her legs began to fold beneath her. They dropped to the floor and she began to kick her legs back and forth as she pulled away trying to escape.

“No! Stop! Stop! I can’t stand it!” she pleaded between breaths.

“Not ticklish my ass!” laughed Spike as he rolled her onto her back and climbed on top of her, straddling her hips.

He had her hands pinned over her head, the paintbrush was still clutched firmly in one. His eyes locked on hers as he hovered over her face. She was smiling up at him chuckling softly, her breathing still labored. As he looked at her underneath him his smile began to gradually fade. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said reverently.

“Still not getting the brush,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Buffy,” he said patiently, “let go.”

“No,” she replied.

Spike tilted his head to the side and asked, “What are you doing? Are you testing me? Wanting to see if I’ll resort to using my physical strength to dominate you and take it? I’m not going to do that. I could sit like this for hours, it’s quite comfortable actually.”

Buffy’s face was becoming increasingly flush her breathing was becoming ragged. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. She said nothing.

“Ah,” he said leaning down and whispering in her ear. “A glimpse of Buffy Summers’ dark side.”

“Unhand me!” demanded Buffy as she bucked underneath him.

Spike smiled, “Well, milady, seems you’ve got it a bit backwards. You see, you don’t get to take that imperious tone with me. I’m the lord of this manor, pet. You do as I command or I’ll have you thrown in the dungeon and subject you to endless hours of torture. Now, relinquish your weapon!”

“What kind of torture?” questioned Buffy, playing along.

“Um, let me see,” began Spike. “We’ll pipe Barry Manilow into the cell 24-hours a day, 7 days a week. And, you’ll get only bread and water to eat. No Evian and Bread and Cie for you, no! It’ll be only horrid tap water and day-old bread from the market. But, not from a market that’s part of the UFCW strike, because we need to support those people-”

“Fine, I can live with that!” said Buffy rolling her eyes.

“Manilow?” asked Spike, incredulous.

“Only if you include Copa Cabana,” said Buffy dryly.

Spike looked disgusted, “Stubborn chit! There is something fundamentally wrong with-”

“Oh! Hey, Willow, Tara-” said Buffy cheerfully craning her neck a bit, looking over Spike’s shoulder.

“Wha-?” began Spike as he released her wrists and turned his head towards the door. “Ompf!”

Within the space of a second she had turned the tables on him. As soon as he released her and turned around Buffy sprung up, pushed him over, and pinned him to the ground.

“You cheated!” he complained.

“Whoo Hoo! Go me! Go me!” she cheered as she bounced up and down.

Spike cocked his head to the side, curled his tongue up behind his teeth, wiggled his eyebrows and in a low voice said, “So, you like being on top up? I don’t mind a bit, truly I don’t. I can be comfortable with turning control over to a woman, sometimes. But, I think you should let me up.”

“You admit that I won, fair and square and then we can shower,” said Buffy.

Spike lifted his head to look over her shoulder and said, “Sorry, seems the lady of the house has gone a bit daft. We should probably humor her.”

“Oh, right Spike! Like I’m going to fall for that one, sheesh! Willow and Tara are always late.” said Buffy rolling her eyes.

“Not always!” said Willow from the doorway where she stood wearing an amused expression.

“A-a-and, when we are late it’s usually my fault,” added Tara. “Are you and Spike… together?”

“What? No!” said Buffy turning slightly to look at them. “We are definitely not together. I mean, I know what this probably looks like. But it’s not. What does it look like? You know what? Nevermind! Whatever it looks like it’s-”

Spike reached up and placed his hand over her mouth. “Stop. Breathe. Let me up. I call dibs on the shower.”

Buffy looked at him, smiling up at her and climbed off of him and then to her feet. “You’re probably wondering what we were doing,” she started to say to Willow and Tara as Spike stood up.

“No,” said Willow casually. “It seemed pretty self-explanatory to me!”

Tara nodded enthusiastically and said, “Yeah! I don’t think I have any questions. Nice to meet you, Spike.”

“Likewise!” he said, extending his hand to first Tara and then Willow before turning back towards Buffy. “Listen, I’m gonna go grab a quick shower. How about you clean the lettuce for the salad? I shouldn’t be more than 10-15 minutes. Then the bathroom is all yours, pet.”

Spike sauntered off towards his room to gather up a fresh set of clothes then quickly disappeared into the bathroom. Within seconds the three girls could hear the water running.

Willow and Tara exchanged a quick look and burst out in giggles. “Oh my Goddess!” gasped Willow. “Spill!”

“There is nothing to spill, we’re roommates, that’s all,” said Buffy as she walked into the kitchen and washed her hands.

“Of course,” said Willow turning to wink at Tara.

“That’s all!” insisted Buffy looking from one to the other. “It’s never going to be anything more than that. Besides, he’s annoying.”

“Annoying?” asked Tara.

“He-he doesn’t do dishes!” exclaimed Buffy.

“That’s the best you can come up with?” asked Willow, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Yeah,” said Buffy sounding disappointed.

“So, when he came home last night did the two of you talk?” pressed Willow. “Did you decide to give this a chance?”

“No. No chance. I admitted that I’m attracted to him-” began Buffy.

“So what’s the problem, sweetie?” asked Tara.

Buffy glance towards the bathroom; then looked back at her two friends and bit her lip. “I…you see…”

“Tell us,” said Willow as she covered Buffy’s hand with hers.

“My sister’s moving into this apartment in just a few days. She’s going to need my attention, my focus. She’s going to need stability,” said Buffy.

“Buffy,” said Willow softly. “Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe he’s the one.”

They were startled when the bathroom door suddenly opened. “Alright, luv, showers all yours,” he said as he emerged, still barefoot, wearing fresh jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was still wet and sticking up from his attempt to dry it quickly with a towel. “Hey! You didn’t even start on the lettuce,” he observed before walking over to the refrigerator and pulling out two heads of romaine.

“Sorry, we got a bit carried away with catching up. Here, I’ll do it,” she said extending her hand.

“Nonsense,” said Spike lifting the lettuce out of reach. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll finish the dinner and set the table. You can do the soddin’ dishes. How’s that for a deal?”

“What is it with you and dishes?” asked Buffy, curiously.

“When I was a babe my mum used to bathe me in the kitchen sink. One time I accidentally dislodged the stopper and the water all drained out. I thought I was going to get sucked down too. It was terrifying, very traumatic,” said Spike with a serious expression on his face.

Buffy rolled her eyes, then turned to walk towards the bathroom. “That was completely lame. You can do better than that, Spike,” she replied. Then she paused, turned around to face him and pointing a finger at him said, “You behave with my friends.”

His face was the picture of innocence as he held up one hand and assured her, “I promise, I’ll work on making a good impression, put my best foot forward and all that rot. By the time you emerge from the bathroom you won’t even recognize me.”

“On second thought,” said Buffy, “maybe you should just be yourself.”

Chapter 10

January 9, 2004

Spike rubbed his eyes as he walked out of the bathroom and headed back towards his bedroom for a bit more sleep. It had been a long week, his first week out of orientation and on the job. And, of course, there was all that he and Buffy had been doing to get ready for Dawn’s arrival.

As he turned to once again close his bedroom door he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, the dark outline of a silhouette against the French doors in the living room. Spike walked back out of his room and quietly whispered, “Buffy?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she answered, softly, not even turning towards him.

He walked over to her and responded, “You didn’t wake me, pet. Is something wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” said Buffy as she continued to gaze out at the city.

“How long have you been up?” asked Spike.

“I haven’t slept,” she. “I’m scared about tomorrow, or I guess I should say today.”

“You should have woken me,” said Spike as he walked over and grabbed the chenille throw off of the sofa. “It’s cold. Aren’t you cold? Do you want me to turn the heat up?”

“I don’t feel it,” she said, neutrally. “The truth is, I haven’t felt anything in a long time. Sometimes I think I’m dead inside. I can admit that. Somehow, here in the dark, where you can’t see me, where no one can see me, I can admit that.”

“Oh, I can see you luv,” said Spike as he placed one hand on her arm, gently turning her body so that the faced him. He then, splayed his hand over her chest. “I can see you here,” he said.

The sun had yet to come up. Moonlight streamed in through the panes of the French door, and softly lit her face. She was wearing a long silk nightgown and he wondered, briefly, if it was a recent purchase. If she had given any thought to him when she slipped it on tonight. He felt a twinge of envy for it, getting to be so close to her. The straps to the gown were thin and it plunged low in the front. He couldn’t tell what color it was, here in the dark, but he could see the sides of her breasts peeking through. As he removed his hand his palm brush across the hard peak of one nipple.

“Do you like what you see?” asked Buffy stepping closer to him and tilting her chin up in invitation.

“Don’t tease, it’s not nice, and could be dangerous,” warned Spike. “You’re playing with fire.”

“I need you,” whispered Buffy looking up into his eyes. “I want you.”

“I want more. I want to hear you say it,” said Spike as he reached out and softly caressed the side of her face. “I won’t be satisfied with doing this half-way.”

She leaned into his hand, nuzzling his palm, and she closed her eyes.

“Tell me you love me,” said Spike, his voice rough with desire and emotion.

“I love you,” replied Buffy, “You know I do.”

Spike slid his hand behind her head, entwining his fingers in her hair and leaned down. As he moved closer to her she parted her lips, and her tongue reached out to moisten them. He could smell the remnants of her toothpaste and the bitter scent of coffee…

Chapter 11


“Dawn, I’d like you to meet your big sister, Buffy,” said Bonnie, the young social worker that would be following their case.

Buffy imagined that Spike was focused on the beautiful Bonnie with her waist-long dark hair and her voluptuous breasts. The frail-looking creature that stood in front of her, however, is what mesmerized her. Dawn was small for her age, both in height and apparent weight. She reminded Buffy of a young colt, all arms and legs. Her hair was hanging loose. It was long and scraggly, hanging in front of her eyes like a protective shield as she stared fixedly at her shoes.

“Come in,” said Buffy, with forced cheerfulness. “I can show you your room if you want. Let me-” she stopped mid-sentence when she felt Spike place his hand firmly on her lower back.

Spike crouched down, then reached up, grabbed Buffy’s hand and gave it a gentle tug. She knelt down on the floor beside him and watched as he lowered his head in search of Dawn’s eyes.

“There you are,” he said softly, a kind smile on his face. “I’m Spike. This beautiful gal here is Buffy. We know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sure this is scary, but you’re going to be safe here with us. We’re sorry about your mum, but we’re both happy you’re here. Aren’t we, Buffy?”

“Yes,” said Buffy, taking his lead as she reached up and took Dawn’s hand in hers.

Dawn’s eyes moved slowly from Spike’s face to her hand, now joined in Buffy’s and she blinked, looking almost confused for a moment. She gave Buffy’s hand a slight squeeze and felt Buffy squeeze back. “Maybe this is real,” thought Dawn as her eyes slowly lifted to seek out the face of her sister.

“How about if Buffy shows you to your room? Then you can explore all you want while Big Sis and I finish up some business with Miss Bonnie?” asked Spike.

Dawn continued to stand there, essentially unresponsive. Spike gave Buffy an encouraging nod and stood up, then watched as Buffy led Dawn over to the small bedroom that they had prepared for her.

Turning towards Bonnie he asked, “Has she said anything to you, anything at all?”

“Not a word. It made for a long, lonely, drive,” said Bonnie.

“Did you guys have time to stop for lunch?” asked Spike turning towards the small bedroom.

“You offering to buy me lunch?” asked Bonnie as she tossed her long dark hair over one shoulder.

“Huh? I was wondering if I should fix something for the Little Bit, actually,” said Spike. “But I could offer you something if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I’m hungry, alright,” said Bonnie as she stepped closer to him. She smiled suggestively at him and said, in a teasing tone, “would you happen to have something tasty for me to eat?”

“How about an apple?” suggested Buffy, dryly.

Bonnie leaned up and whispered in his ear, “Do you think she would put poison in it?”

Spike couldn’t help but smirk. “Don’t you have work to do? Tots to protect?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said, sounding obviously disappointed. “I’m expected back at the office shortly. Walk me out?”

“Sure,” said Spike as he opened the door and followed her out without a backwards glance.

Just as the door closed Buffy heard Bonnie ask, “Maybe we could squeeze in time for a quick bite?”

Buffy stared at the closed door and was totally caught off guard by the intensity of her emotions as she struggled to fight down tears of frustration and jealousy. “Okay, Buffy, what do you want to do?” Briefly her mind flashed on the image of her opening up the door, stomping down the hall, grabbing a handful of Bonnie’s hair and-”

Buffy’s thoughts were cut off as she heard a sudden bang followed by the sound of broken glass. Buffy ran into Dawn’s room to find her cowering in a corner, trembling like a leaf. Buffy quickly scanned the room and saw that Dawn had opened one of the windows and that a pane towards the top had shattered. She immediately walked over to Dawn and reached out towards her.

“Dawn,” she said calmly, and then noticed Dawn flinch. She remembered how Spike had lowered himself to her level earlier and she quickly moved to the floor. “It’s alright. We don’t nail the windows down here. That’s what you were checking for, isn’t it?”

“Everything alright?” asked Spike from the doorway, a concerned look on his face.

“Could you get the dustpan and broom?” asked Buffy.

“Sure,” said Spike, before disappearing. He returned seconds later with the broom and dustpan in his hand.

“Enjoy your lunch with silicone Barbie,” said Buffy, sarcastically as she grabbed the broom from him and began sweeping up the glass.

“Bonnie,” said Spike as he frowned at Buffy. Then he turned, leaned down, and extended his hand to Dawn. She looked at his outreached hand and then ever so slowly, she placed her tiny hand in his. “Are you hurt?” he asked her, helping her to her feet.

Dawn looked up at him, but said nothing. “I’m not trying to make you talk, Bit. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we’re going to have to figure out some way of communicating the basics. A nod will do. So, are you hurt?”

Dawn looked at him, her eyes empty and listless and she shook her head.

Spike smiled, “No? Well, that’s good then. We’ll just clean up this mess. Bonnie said that they two of you stopped for an early lunch. Are you hungry?”

Again Dawn shook her head.

“Spike? Can you hold the dustpan?” asked Buffy.

“Sure thing,” said Spike as he knelt down and held the dustpan in place so that Buffy could sweep the glass into it.

She walked over to the tiny trashcan by the vanity that Willow and Tara had purchased as a gift and dumped the glass inside. Buffy turned to see that Dawn’s eyes were following her movements. Her mind replayed the tinkling sound of the glass shards hitting the bottom of the trashcan. Then, without warning, she remembered:

“Mom? Mommy? I have to go potty” shouted Buffy for the fifth time.

Buffy was nine. Their tiny house was cold and dark. She had woken up in the middle of the night and had gone to use the bathroom in the hallway. Only the light was on and the door was shut.

Buffy walked down to her parent’s bedroom and saw that the bed was still made, not slept in. Then she remembered the fight, the yelling, and the accusations. She walked back over to the bathroom door and slowly turned the knob and then pushed the door open. Her mothers prone body on the floor, the shattered bathroom mirror, the glass scattered on the white tile, the blood, the blood, and the warm feel of her own urine as it trailed down her leg to form a puddle on the floor.

“Buffy, are you alright?” asked Spike.

“Huh? Yeah! Me? I’m fine!” she responded a large plastic smile on her face. “You know what might be fun? How about we take Dawn shopping! She can pick up a new outfit for her first day of school. Would you like that, Dawn?”

Dawn nodded ever so slightly.

“Great!” said Buffy enthusiastically. “The mall it is, then!”

Chapter 12

Dawn watched, wide-eyed, as her sister slowly shut her bedroom door. Her room was still fairly light since she had opted to leave her curtains and shades open. Her afternoon had been strange and she kept wondering if she were in a dream. Several times during the day she had slipped her little hand inside of Buffy’s and squeezed it. It felt good to feel, to be touched. She sat up in bed and strained to listen to the soft voices that were coming from the living room. She sat there for a minute or two waiting for the inevitable yelling to start, but it didn’t. She let another minute pass and realized that she wasn’t able to hear anything anymore. She cursed the almost deafening sound of the pounding of her own heart. Dawn quietly climbed out of bed and began to tiptoe over to the door so that she could listen. As she walked around the side of her bed the soft heel of her foot came down on a stray shard of glass.

When the scream rang out, followed by the cries of pain Buffy had been in her bedroom, slipping on a nightgown. Spike had been in the bathroom, getting ready to take a shower. He had removed his t-shirt and was just leaning over to turn on the taps to the shower. In the space of a second or two they were both in Dawn’s room. Spike, who was the closer of the two, had arrived first and flicked on the light switch, flooding the room with light.

“What happened?” asked Buffy as she ran around to the side of the bed where Dawn and Spike were already crouched on the floor. Dawn was crying out in pain.

“Oh! It hurt’s! It hurt’s!” she cried as she rocked back and forth, clutching her foot.

“Let me take a look,” said Spike softly.

Dawn looked up at him, her eyes still brimming with tears, her lower lip quivering. Buffy knelt beside her and in a soothing voice said, “It’s alright, Dawnie, let Spike look.”

As soon as Dawn removed her hands Buffy saw it. The jagged piece of glass, covered in blood that was sticking out of the heel of Dawns foot. She felt the bile rise up in her throat. She felt suddenly numb and wondered briefly why the light in the room was fading.

“Buffy? Buffy!” she heard Spike calling from a distance. She opened her eyes and saw him. Then she remembered and started to look towards Dawn.

“Dawn!” shouted Buffy, feeling alarmed.

“Dawn will be fine and so will you,” said Spike. There was a quiet knock on the door just then and both blondes turned towards it. Dawn was standing in the doorway, one foot planted firmly on the ground, the second elevated so that just her toes were touching.

“Buffy’s alright, Bit. Come and see for yourself if you want,” said Spike waving her in. “Just don’t get any blood on my bed or Big Sis is likely to swoon like a sissy again.”

Buffy watched in amazement as a slight smile began to form on Dawn’s mouth. She walked, hesitantly towards them, holding her tattered stuffed bear by one arm, so that it dragged on the floor.

“She spoke,” said Buffy quietly as she rose up onto her elbows.

“Yelled, actually,” said Spike.

“She was cut-” began Buffy.

Spike nodded his head in Dawn’s direction and Buffy began again, “You were cut, I remember. I’m sorry Dawn. I should have done a better job sweeping up. I’m really sorry.”

Dawn shrugged and clutched the bear to her chest.

“Are you alright? Did Spike take care of you?” asked Buffy.

Dawn nodded.

Spike reached out and ruffled her hair. “She’s fine, aren’t you, Bit?”

“No thanks to me,” said Buffy struggling to hold back tears. “What good was I? I’m supposed to be able to take care of her. She needs me and what do I do? I pass out cold! I’m just as useless as my mother!”

“You’re not useless and you’re not your mother,” said Spike firmly. “Is she, Bit?”

Dawn looked at the two of them, sitting together on the bed and wondered again if she were dreaming. It was just the kind of scene she would dream about, fantasize about. She stepped closer to the bed and reached out to touch it. It felt real.

“Climb on up if you want,” invited Spike. “I’ve long dreamt about sharing my bed with two beautiful ladies.”

“Spike!” scolded Buffy.

“What?” he said innocently as he lifted Dawn over and settled her down on the other side of Buffy.

“Are you ok?” asked Buffy looking at Dawn.

Dawn nodded, looked up at her, and picking up a strand of Buffy’s long hair asked, “You?”

“Yeah,” said Buffy as she wrapped her arm around Dawn. “I just feel stupid. Like I can’t do anything right.”

“I feel like that a lot,” said Dawn as she leaned into the embrace and inhaled deeply.

“But you’re a kid, you’re not supposed to know how to do stuff,” said Buffy, smoothing her hair.

“You smell good,” said Dawn, releasing a yawn. As she closed her eyes, in a hushed voice, she asked, “Buffy? Is this real?”

“Yes, Dawn,” answered Buffy, as her eyes once again filled with tears. She placed a kiss on her sister’s forehead and assured her, “this is real.”

Spike swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat. “How about you two stay put for a few? I’ll go shower and then I’ll carry the Bit back to bed.”

“And, just how did I end up in your bed?” asked Buffy.

“Well, I had to put you somewhere. If I had just left you to lie there on the floor we probably would have tripped over you,” he replied with a wink. “I’ll be back in a few. Enjoy this time with her. She’s feeling scared and vulnerable. By tomorrow though, we could easily be back to square one.”

Buffy nodded her understanding and rolled onto her side so that she could protectively curve her body around the tiny girl who was now hers to care for. She looked down at her face and for a second saw herself. She anticipated how challenging the actual tasks of care giving would be. What she wasn’t prepared for was the emotions that it would evoke. The memories. The stark realizations about her own parent’s shortcomings and how that had so ill prepared her, the feelings of inadequacy that had surfaced. She had spent years cultivating an image of self-assuredness and competence. Memories. Feelings. Past. Present. Those things had become unchartered territory for her. For years it had been about making plans, positioning herself, the next step. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the moment.

“Is she asleep?” asked Spike, quietly.

Buffy’s eyes flew open. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, next to her, now wearing a pair of black sweatpants.

“I think so,” said Buffy. “I was just…”

“Savoring the moment?” asked Spike.

“Something like that,” she said as she smiled down as her sister.

Spike slipped his arms under Dawns body and scooped her up with ease, “Don’t move,” he said.

“Spike, I-” she started to say.

“No buts. You stay put. Don’t move,” repeated Spike as he cradled Dawn in his arms and started to walk out the door.

Buffy sat up and swung her feet onto the floor, positioning herself to stand up. Spike swung around and sternly looking at her asked, “Did you not hear the ‘don’t move’ part? I believe I repeated that twice.”

Buffy froze and nervously said, “Yes, Spike, I-I heard you.”

“Good,” declared Spike. “Do me a favor,” he said nodding towards a candle that sat on his bedside table, “and light that candle over there.”

Chapter 13

Buffy looked up, a bit startled when she heard the soft click of Spike’s bedroom door. She was nervous, too nervous to turn around and face him. She had just seconds ago finished lighting the gold candle that sat on Spike’s nightstand. The ginger and lemongrass scent quickly began to permeate the air. She breathed in the heady aroma and tried to calm herself.

“You moved,” he said softly as he approached her from behind.

“Just to light the candle,” replied Buffy.

He stepped closer to her, reached out, gathered up her long blonde hair and swept it forward over her shoulder. “I have this fantasy that begins with you in my bed surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight,” he admitted.

“Spike, I’m not-” she started.

“Attainable,” he finished. “I heard. I’ve given that a lot of thought, actually. I don’t like that word. I wouldn’t want to think of myself as attainable either. We’re not bloody prizes or possessions,” he said as he dragged his index finger down the long column of her neck. You aren’t a goal I’ve set, something for me to conquer, an achievement to boast about.”

Buffy turned around and faced him. His eyes were dark with passion. He was still shirtless and she felt her breath quicken as she gazed upon his beautifully sculpted chest. “I’m not sure I can give you what you deserve out of a relationship. In fact, I’m almost positive I can’t, Spike.”

“Can’t or won’t?” asked Spike as he snaked one arm around her waist.

“I’m not sure I’m capable of loving anyone,” said Buffy forlornly.

“How could you possibly think that,” said Spike as he pulled her closer and nuzzled her neck. “You’re capable. I felt it that night, the night I first held you in my arms. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since. The way your body molded to mine.” He kissed her just behind her ear. It was a soft, opened mouth kiss.

Buffy moaned and arched into him as she lifted and turned her head, slightly, offering more of her neck, “Oh, Spike, I need… I need…”

“Yes, kitten, tell me what you need,” said Spike as he began to move his hand up the length of her torso so that he could cup her breast.

“I need for you to stop for a minute,” she said, breathlessly.

“Stop?” he repeated, his voice cracking a bit in his effort to restrain himself.

“I can’t think with you…” started Buffy.

“Thinking is overrated,” he whispered as he began to lean in for another kiss.

“Are you saying that you don’t want to possess me?” she asked.

“Of course not,” responded Spike, his forehead wrinkled in confusion as he tried to read where she was going.

“You don’t want to make me yours and only yours? Have me share my bed with only you?” asked Buffy.

Spike stepped back from her and with a hurt expression on his face asked, “I’m not just talking about sex here. I think you know that and…Is the thought of that possibility so horrid? I don’t know where this will lead, but I want to find out. And, just for the record, being in a monogamous, committed relationship with someone and possessing them isn’t the same thing.”

“What’s the difference,” asked Buffy.

“Well…the difference is… it’s just different,” said Spike.

“You’ll only end up hurt and disappointed,” said Buffy.

“You won’t even try?” asked Spike.

“I’ve tried. It didn’t work,” responded Buffy.

“One failed relationship and you’re willing to throw in the towel?” challenged Spike as he climbed onto the bed and leaned back, resting comfortably on his elbows.

“Couldn’t you put a shirt on for the rest of this conversation?” asked Buffy.

“No,” said Spike. “But I wouldn’t mind if you evened the score and took off your nightgown.”

“What? No!” said Buffy.

“Alright then, have it your way,” sighed Spike dramatically. “Let me hear the details.”

“What details?” she asked.

“Your dating and sexual history. So I have a good understanding of what I’m getting into here,” suggested Spike as he patted the space on the bed beside him.

“I so don’t remember agreeing to anything,” said Buffy, shaking her head.

“You will. It’s just a matter of time. I’m irresistible,” declared Spike.

“I think you mean irrepressible,” corrected Buffy.

“That too,” said Spike in agreement.

“You know? I’m not sure I’m up to this tonight. Goodnight,” said Buffy as she yawned and turned towards the door.

“Stay. Stay here with me,” said Spike as he stood up and began to pull down the covers. “I want to be close to you.”

“That’s not a good idea, and you know it,” said Buffy turning back to face him.

“You don’t trust yourself. See, I told you, irresistible,” said Spike grinning widely as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush up against him.

She could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against her, “You’re impossible,” whispered Buffy as she stared up into his deep blue eyes. “Say goodnight, Spike,”

“Goodnight, Spike,” he said as she pulled herself from his embrace.

Buffy walked quickly over to his bedroom door. As she placed her hand on the doorknob she shook her head and confessed, “Spike, I’ve given myself to someone before. Completely. It wasn’t enough. Not enough to keep him. It will never be enough because I’m empty inside.”

“You’re not empty, you’re just closed off, from trying to protect yourself,” suggested Spike. “I’ve seen glimpses of the girl inside. You’re more than window dressing.”

“Protect myself? From heartbreak, misery, sexual violence, and possible death? Possibly,” admitted Buffy as she turned back around and leaned against the door.

“From having to face your demons, because if you do that, really do that, you have to admit that it could all change,” offered Spike as he walked over to her. He placed a hand on either side of her head and leaned in, until his forehead touched hers. As the seconds ticked away he slowly lowered his hands until they rested, comfortably on her waist. Their breathing became synchronized. She closed her eyes and felt him. She let him lead her as the pace of his inhalations became deeper, more impassioned. A soft moan escaped Buffy’s lips.

Spike pulled back slightly, kissed her on the forehead, and said, “Now, go off to sleep, like a good girl, before I turn into the big bad wolf.”

“And eat me?” asked Buffy looking up at him, her voice carrying a tone of feigned innocence.

Spike leaned up over her, slapped his hands back onto the door about her head, pinning her in, and said, “You know? That was just plain mean. How am I supposed to sleep now! You have an evil streak Buffy Summers! And, I swear, if you offer to let me spank you for punishment I’m going to totally lose it.”

“Goodnight, Spike,” said Buffy, smiling coyly.

Spike backed away and watched as she opened his door, walked out, and closed it softly behind her.

“One, two, three…fuck it,” he said as he pulled the door open. She was just half-way down the hall and in two strides he was on her. He reached out for her hand and pulled her towards him. Then he quickly backed her up against the wall, one hand around her waist, the other around the back of her neck. He crushed his lips to hers in a breath-stealing kiss. He made no attempt to hide his arousal. He did just the opposite. He wanted her to know just what she did to him, how she affected him, he wanted her to feel the power that she had over him. He tilted his pelvis so that his erection could be felt against her soft stomach. She gasped and he took immediate advantage, boldly slipping his tongue inside the sweetness of her mouth.

As soon as his tongue entered her mouth he knew she had been right. He wanted her, all of her. There was no hesitancy, no doubt in the kiss. It was about wanting and taking. It was about marking. It was about possessing. It hit him like a ton of bricks and he was suddenly awash in shame. He pulled back abruptly.

Her hair was messed and her eyes were wide in a combination of arousal and fear. Even in the dim light of the hallway he could see that her lips were red and full from his assault.

“You’re right,” admitted Spike, at first turning away from her. “I want to make you mine. If I were to be perfectly honest I would tell you that I’ve thought of little else since I saw you in that elevator. I’m probably no different than any other wanker that you’ve ever dated, or slept with. If you want me to move out, I will,” finished Spike.

“If I let you stay, are you going to attack me in the hallway again?” asked Buffy.

“It’s a likely scenario,” admitted Spike, looking her in the eye and nodding his head.

“Then you can stay,” said Buffy as she turned and continued down the hall to her room. “And, Spike? You are different.”

“Goodnight, luv,” said Spike as he watched her close her door.

Chapter 14

Dawn woke up. In those few seconds between consciousness and opening her eyes an intense fear set in. Fear that it was all just a dream. Dawn sat up in bed and slowly opened her eyes, first one and then the other. The morning sun was streaming in through the window. She could see tiny particles of dust floating in the air. Dawn looked at the white lace curtains and her forehead wrinkled. She climbed out of bed and walked over to finger the delicate fabric, establishing they were real. She turned and surveyed her room. She ran her hand along the cheerful yellow wall. Until she reached the corner where her vanity sat. A blue and yellow striped skirt had been placed around it. She sat on the matching tufted stool and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Dawn looked at the items that were scattered on top, picked up a hairbrush and began to methodically run it through her hair. Satisfied, she turned and looked at her bed. She walked over and quickly made it, pulling up the light blue sheets and smoothing out the blue and yellow striped comforter. Just as she was tossing the white lace throw pillows onto the bed she heard her door creek and turned quickly to face it.

“Morning, Bit,” said Spike. “How did you sleep? How’s the foot?”

Dawn’s eyes immediately found an uninteresting spot on the floor to stare at.

“Ah. Not feeling chatty this morning?” observed Spike. “Well, I didn’t sleep so well myself, I’ve been up awhile, but Buffy’s still asleep. I was just about to make some French toast. Unless you’d rather have oatmeal?”

Dawn slowly raised her eyes to look at him.

“I’ve got an idea!” said Spike with enthusiasm. “How about you burp once if you want French toast, twice if you want oatmeal!”

Dawn couldn’t help herself, a giggle bubbled out of her. Spike extended his hand out towards her and announced, “French toast it is, then. Come on, you can be my sous chef. We’re going to start working on cooking lessons now. Your sister’s a horrid cook. I say we start breaking you in early!”

Spike led her into the kitchen and lifted her up onto the counter. “This is really easy,” said Spike as he dropped some butter into the frying pan and lit the flame. He turned to gather some eggs from the fridge, and then quickly scrambled them in a bowl. “You do the dunking,” he instructed as he handed her a slice of bread, “like so.”

The two of them worked side by side in comfortable silence for several minutes. When the French toast was finished Spike dished it up and carried the plates to the table. He returned to the kitchen, lifted Dawn off the counter, and handed her the napkins and cutlery. “Go finish setting the table, I’ll bring you a glass of milk.”

Dawn followed his instructions without protest; carefully setting a fork, knife and napkin by each plate. She then pulled out a chair, sat down, and waited. Spike joined her at the table, “Eat up!” he encouraged as he nodded towards her plate and poured out a generous amount of syrup for himself. Dawn continued to sit there, staring at her plate in silence.

Spike cut into his breakfast and was just about to take his first bite when he realized she hadn’t moved. He sat his fork down quietly, leaned forward, and said, “I wasn’t making fun of you earlier, about not talking. The truth is that I’m absolutely sure that you have a really good reason for it. I’d like to understand, Bit, I truly would.” Spike picked up her knife and fork and cut her French toast into little squares and then doused them with syrup. He speared one square onto her fork and then lifted it towards her mouth, “Come on, have a taste. It’s horrible for you, mostly sugar and carbohydrates. Well, there is some nutritional value, I did buy whole grained bread and there’s protein in the eggs, right?”

Dawn opened her mouth and accepted the bite. She chewed for a moment, closing her eyes to savor the taste. Then, she reached out, accepted the fork, and fed herself another bite.

“You’ve never had French toast before?” asked Spike.

Dawn shook her head as she quickly filled her mouth with another bite.

“Slow down, Bit,” laughed Spike. “You’re going to choke if you keep shoveling it in like that!”

Dawn paused and looked up at him, embarrassed, her cheeks puffed out like a little chipmunks. She sat her fork down and swallowed. The momentary silence was interrupted by the sound of the intercom buzzer.

“Excuse me,” said Spike as he stood up and walked over to the intercom. “Hello?”

“Spike? I know I’m a bit early, are you ready?” asked the voice.

“Not quite, I’ll buzz you in, come on up,” responded Spike. He looked over to look at Dawn and said, “Finish up your breakfast, Dawn. I’m gonna be leaving shortly and-”

Her head shot up, a look of alarm on her face.

“I’m not leaving for good,” he said as he walked back over to the table and sat down, “just for a bit. I have a fencing date with a mate. What would you think about a picnic at the beach this afternoon? Think you and Buffy would like that?”

Dawn nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s a date then!” said Spike as he picked up his plate and carried it to the sink. There was a knock at the door and Spike walked over to answer. “Come on in, Wes. I’ll just wake Buffy and get my gear. This is Dawn by the way. Dawn, this is Wes.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dawn,” said Wes. Dawn looked down and said nothing.

Spike walked over to her and bending down whispered, “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk, but if you don’t, I’d like you to at least shake his hand. Could you do that, Bit?”

Dawn stood up, walked over to Wes, and extended her hand in a handshake.

“Help yourself to some coffee, I’ll just be a minute,” said Spike before leaving the room.

He walked over to Buffy’s door and knocked softly. He waited a moment and when there was no response he quietly opened the door and walked in. The room was softly lit and she was lying on her side on the far side of the bed. Her hair was spayed out across her pillow and the sheet had slipped down around her waist. Spike could see the soft mound of her right breast peeking out from the bodice of her nightgown. She looked so peaceful.

Spike crouched down and studied her for a moment, she looked different in sleep, more open, less guarded. He stood up and crawled onto the bed, stretching out beside her. He rested his head on the pillow and then whispered her name, “Buffy?”

She rolled onto her back and stretched out before him, like a cat, lifting her arms over her head and extending her legs. Her eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Damn,” said Spike, softly, “I was really hoping that I was going to have to wake you with a kiss, you know, like Prince Charming.”

“I think Prince Charming was in ‘Cinderella’, not ‘Snow White’” said Buffy rolling onto her side. “What time is it?”

“He was in both, actually, ‘Rapunzel’ too. He was a real player, that one,” said Spike as he reached up and gathered a strand of her hair between his fingers. “It’s 8:30 a.m. and I’ve given Dawn breakfast. I’ve got to go. I have a fencing date-” began Spike.

“You’re going to help someone build a fence?” asked Buffy leaning up on one elbow.

“No,” said Spike patiently. “Fencing as in en garde clarified Spike.”

“Nobody really fences like that. Well, except for maybe Jean Luc Picard, on the holodeck of the Enterprise,” babbled Buffy.

“I fence,” said Spike. “It’s a fabulous sport. Turns out that one of my co-workers’ husbands is into it too. He’s taking me down to his club so I can check it out and embarrass him a bit.”

“You’re so confident,” observed Buffy.

“Not about everything,” said Spike. “Don’t let me fool you. There are plenty of things that I find just plain terrifying.”

“Like what?” asked Buffy. “And, don’t say ‘dishes.’”

Spike smiled and said, “As much as I’d love to spend a lazy morning in bed with you having a heart-to-heart, I’ve got a mate waiting out there for me. How about you pick me up around noon at the club? We can grab some sandwiches and go down to the beach for the afternoon?”

“Sounds great!” said Buffy.

“I’ll leave the address on the kitchen table,” he said as he started to get up. “Oh! I’m gonna leave Dawn with some art supplies. Can you bring them, whatever she works on, and a blanket?”

“Sure,” said Buffy. “I’ll see you at noon.”

“I’ll see you at noon,” confirmed Spike before turning to go. He paused at the door and looking back at her said, “We could finish that heart-to-heart tonight.”

“I’ve got a date tonight!” announced Buffy. “I promised Dawn a night of ‘The Princess Bride’ and pizza. You’re welcome to join in. There’s sword fighting and adventure and romance.”

Spike leaned against the doorframe, tilted his head and looking at her skeptically asked, “Is it is kissing movie?”

Buffy smiled as she hopped out of bed and bounced over to him, “So, you’re in? You’ll watch with us?”

“As you wish,” said Spike, bowing down gallantly. As he stood back up he reached out for her chin, tilted in up slightly lifting her head, and leaned down placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Until tonight.”

Chapter 15

It was just a few minutes before noon as Dawn and Buffy made their way up the long narrow staircase that led to the fencing academy. The stairs and the walls were covered in a light gray marble. At the top of the stairs was a large, heavy wooden door. The door stood slightly ajar and so Buffy pushed it open and entered into the reception area. There was an old desk to the immediate left that was, for the moment, unoccupied. Behind it was a rack with masks, foils, and jackets. To her right was an archway and drifting through it was the sound of metal striking against metal, the occaissional buzzing noise, and one very recognizable, “Bollocks!”

Buffy smiled as she took Dawn’s hand and walked with her through the entryway. It was just one vast room. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the brightly colored flags with coats of arms that hung from the ceiling. The floor was wooden and there were lines painted on it, dividing it into rows or sections. The walls were a dull gray, but generously adorned with various swords and shields.

Several of the fencers were standing on the sidelines, watching as the two men continued their bout. Even with a mask on, Buffy recognized Spike. He recovered quickly from the hit and got back into position.

“That one was on target,” said the young man that was standing off to the side.

Spike was standing sideways, his left foot facing his opponent, his right foot straight out, and his knees bent, in the en garde position. He held the foil in his outstretched, gloved left hand. His right arm was held behind him, out of the way and at a 90-degree angle.He was wearing the traditional white pants, and a jacket that was covered with a silver lame vest. A body cord ran from the back of the vest up to a scoring machine.

“Who’s winning?” whispered Buffy, quietly, to one of the bystanders.

“New guy, Spike,” he said. “That’s the first valid touch anyone’s been able to get all morning. He’s good, really good.”

The score was currently 4:1, in favor of Spike. He lunged forward, attacking his opponent with lightening speed. Wes parried, effectively blocking the initial attack. Spike stepped back in retreat. Parry, repost, parry, lunge; the sequence replayed, both men’s movements became a blur. Spike was amazing. His agility, coordination and balance allowed him to parry and block attack after attack. His timing was flawless. He patiently waited for just the right moment, and it came. As soon as he gained the right of way he moved in aggressively with a beat attack, scoring the final touch and winning the bout.

Wes was the first to remove his mask, his face was dripping with sweat, “Well, at least I got a touch in this time,” he said as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Spike pulled off his own mask. His hair was wet from perspiration and stood up on end as he ran his hand threw it. “That last feint through me, won’t happen again. What time is it anyways?”

“Time to go. Besides, it look’s like your ride’s here,” said Wes nodding towards the direction of Buffy and Dawn.

When Spike turned around Buffy gave him a little wave. His heart was still pounding and he was practically bouncing on his toes from the workout. The adrenalin coursing through his body gave him a giddy, almost intoxicating feeling. He smiled broadly as he walked over towards Buffy and Dawn. “Did you catch any of that?” he asked.

“You won!” replied Buffy cheerfully.

Spike wrapped his arm around her waist, and dipped her backwards, just like he did that first time, “Yes, I did. I always win.”

“You’re dripping sweat on me, and people are staring,” whispered Buffy.

“Let them, they’re jealous. To the victor go the spoils, luv,” responded Spike before kissing her softly on the lips.

“I’m spoils now?” asked Buffy as he stood her back up.

“Nah!” said Spike waving his hand. “I just felt like kissing someone. You happen to be the prettiest one in the room at the moment. But, give the Bit a few more years and she’s going to be giving you a run for your money.”

Spike stopped talking, stepped back and looked appraisingly at both of them. “You got your hair done.”

“I had an appointment at Jean-Claudes. It was time for a trim, that’s all. While I was there I asked him to cut Dawn’s hair too. It looks much healthier now, don’t you think?” she asked Spike as she ran her fingers through Dawn’s hair.

“Beautiful,” he said, looking down at her.

Dawn looked at him and returned the smile.

“Nice to see you again, Dawn. I’m Wes, by the way,” said Wesley as he extended his hand towards Buffy.

“Buffy,” she said, returning his handshake.

“Listen, Spike, I’m gonna run. I’m on a mission to find a sitter for tonight. It’s our anniversary and our sitter cancelled just this morning. She came down with that horrid flu. I wanted to thank you. Same time next Saturday?”

“You’re on!” agreed Spike. “Hey, we’re just doing pizza and a movie at home. We can watch the little tyke.”

“You serious?” asked Wes.

“Of course! I’ve been listening to Fred talk about this anniversary celebration all bloody week. I’d hate for you to have to cancel,” explained Spike.

“It’ll only be for a few hours. I could drop Owen off on our way to the restaurant. Is around seven alright?” asked Wes.

“Seven it is,” said Spike. “Look, since we’re going straight to the beach I’m going to grab a quick shower. You two alright just hanging out and watching for a bit?”

“No problem,” said Buffy as she walked over to sit in one of the chairs that were along the sidelines.

Two hours later Buffy and Spike were settled comfortably on a blanket at the beach. There was a chill in the air and spike had lit a fire in the fire pit. They had stopped on the way at a deli for sandwiches.Spike noticed a broken up wooden pallet leaning against the wall of the alley next to the deli on the way out and he had insisted on loading it into the trunk of Buffy’s car. “Now, admit it, the pallet was a good idea.”

“The pallet was a good idea,” acknowledged Buffy. “The meatball sandwich, however? That was a bad idea, a very bad idea. I can hardly move. You may have to carry me back!” said Buffy, with a groan, as she shifted to lie down on the blanket.

The soft sounds of a child’s laugh drifted back to them. Buffy leaned up on her elbows and followed Spike’s gaze. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes and watched as Dawn chased the seagulls on the beach. She would stealthy approach first one unsuspecting bird and then another. Unfailingly as she got within four or five feet the bird would take off, fly a few yards, and then land again in the sand. Spike reached across the blanket for Buffy’s hand. She laced her fingers between his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s only been a day and already I feel like I’ve made a difference. Not a big difference, but a difference.”

“She’s got a long way to go,” agreed Spike. “But you have to celebrate every incremental gain. It’s all good, Buffy. Did you bring the picture?”

“Yeah,” she said as she reached for Spike’s wooden art supply box, opened it, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to him. “What did you ask her to draw?”

“A picture of her family,” said Spike as he studied the picture, his brow creased. “She didn’t use any color,” he observed. “Look how empty it is, how little detail, and this is interesting,” said Spike pointing at the two obviously adult figures, “no ears.”

“Maybe she forgot them?” suggested Buffy.

“It’s significant. It could be more about her feeling unheard. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t talk. I mean, we’ve assumed she stopped talking when your mother died, it could go back long before that. Let’s call her old school on Monday, and see is we can find out anything. She has ears on herself. And look, see how they’re disproportionate, almost too big?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Buffy looking more closely at the picture, “and look at the size of Ted’s mouth.”

“He was a yeller?” asked Spike.

“Yeah,” said Buffy. “I mean, at least I’m assuming so. I wasn’t really around him very long.”

“Why did you leave?” asked Spike, setting the drawing aside.

“Why did I leave?” she repeated. “I guess I left because…because she chose him over me. He moved in and immediately wanted to control…everything. This guy, an older guy had asked me out on a date. I accepted but when I was getting ready to go, Ted said I couldn’t. We argued and he sent me to my room.”

“But you went anyways,” asked Spike.

“Yes,” admitted Buffy. “Come early morning I tried to climb back in through my bedroom window later, I couldn’t. He had nailed all the windows shut. I used my key and entered through the front door. The house was dark. I went back to my room just in time to hear my morning alarm going off for school. He was waiting for me. He had searched the entire place, went through all my things, he was just sitting there, reading my diary and…and laughing. He was laughing at all my hopes, my dreams.”

“Your innermost thoughts,” added Spike.

“I grabbed for the diary and he held it out of reach, taunting me. As I jumped for it I scratched him and he backhanded me. I fell I crashing into a nightstand, and breaking the table lamp. The noise coupled with the yelling was enough to break through mom’s latest hangover. I was so glad to see her, standing there in the doorway of my room,” said Buffy

“You thought she would protect you, take your side, but she didn’t,” interjected Spike.

“It's because you didn't have a strong father figure, isn't it?” said Joyce, wearily as she rubbed her temples. “That’s why you’re so rebellious.”

“I'm sorry, Mom, but I don't have time for this. I’ve got to get to school,” replied Buffy.

“You know? No! I am tired of 'I don't have time' or-or 'you wouldn't understand.' I am your mother, and you will make time to explain yourself. That school is just putting ideas into your head,” countered Joyce.

“She thinks she’s going to college,” chuckled Ted. “She thinks she’s smart enough to get a scholarship. You’re grounded”

“I have to go! Mom, I have three tests today. My grades, they’re important,” pleaded Buffy

“No. I am not letting you out of this house,” declared Ted.

“You can't stop me from going to school,” shouted Buffy, tearfully as she quickly packed her backpack.

“You walk out of this house, don't even think about coming back!” shouted Joyce.

“Where on earth did you stay?” asked Spike as he reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek.

“In a crypt, in a cemetery,” said Buffy.

“A crypt? You’re putting me on!” laughed Spike. Then he tilted his head to the side, pursed his lips and said, “Sorry. You’re serious.”

“Yes. The guy I was seeing, Angel. His father was the caretaker of the local cemetery and he helped out, maintaining some of the crypts. He let me stay in one of them,” explained Buffy.

“What happened with you and Angel?” asked Spike as he reached for his sketchpad and a pencil.

“Think I still dream of a crypt for two with a white picket fence? I don’t. My eyes cleared. It took a long time, and it got bad, really bad. Frankly that’s a story for another day. Your turn, tell me about something that terrifies you,” suggested Buffy, changing the subject.

“Mimes,” said Spike.

“Mimes?” repeated Buffy.

“Uh-huh,” responded Spike as he continued to sketch.

“Why?” asked Buffy.

“I have no idea,” answered Spike. “But they’ve always…”

“Given you the wiggins?” interjected Buffy.

“Yeah,” admitted Spike as he continued to sketch.

Several minutes passed. Buffy moved, looked over Spikes shoulder and asked, “What are you drawing there?”

“Nothing yet, it’s really rough,” he replied lowering the sketchpad and blocking her view.

“Come on, show me,” coaxed Buffy as she dragged a finger up and down the side of his neck.

“Are you flirting with me?” asked Spike, smiling to himself.

“No!” insisted Buffy.

“Cause this feels a bit like flirting,” added Spike.

“This isn’t flirting. This is supposed to be a distracting enticement. It’s meant to cloud your mind so you forget that your not wanting to show me the picture,” said Buffy as she continued to drag her finger up and down the side of his neck. “Is it working?”

“Do that with your tongue and we have a deal,” said Spike, absently as he looked out across the sand again at Dawn and the seagulls.

And she did it, without thought, without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As Spike returned his attention to his sketchpad he felt it. The tip of her tongue as she slowly dragged it from the base of the side of his neck all of the way up to just behind his ear. The ocean breeze quickly cooled the trail of warm moisture that she left behind causing him to shiver. Or, perhaps he had started to shiver as soon as he realized that her mouth was on him, tasting him.

“Was that a cold shiver or a ‘that was nice’ shiver,” she whispered in his ear.

“Bit of both, I think. You surprised me,” he said as he twisted around so that he could look her in the eye.

“Next time I’m upping the ante,” he said as he tossed her the sketchpad.

Buffy looked down at the sketch. It was clearly of Dawn, chasing the seagulls on the beach, only Spike had given her, her own set of wings. It was beautiful.

“Just for my own information. If I have set the price at a blowjob-” began Spike.

“A world of no,” said Buffy as she continued to study the drawing. “And tell me, how can you be drawing something so sweet and beautiful and be thinking about blowjobs?”

“Blowjobs are sweet and beautiful,” said Spike with a look of complete innocence on his face. “At least I’ve always thought so. Besides, guy here, remember?”

“Spike? Have you always been so forward about sex? You do realize it’s a bit unnerving, don’t you?” asked Buffy.

“Sorry. And no. I’ve had to develop a comfort level. There was a time when things between Drusilla and I…well, they weren’t good anymore. We had been together for a long time but I found that I was having a hard time communicating with her, expressing my sexual needs. It felt…embarrassing. I struggled with it, went to see a therapist finally. She wouldn’t come with me, so I went alone. I worked on it. I worked on it a lot, actually,” revealed Spike.

“I thought maybe it had to do with your work,” suggested Buffy.

“Not really. That’s not so much about being able to talk about it as it is about being empathic. When I started I was in Initial Services, so I was often the first one to go out and interview a kid. They’re scared; many of them are so young they don’t even have the vocabulary to describe what’s happened to them. The last thing they need is someone that’s going to get skittish on them, make them feel judged or uncomfortable in any way,” explained Spike.

“You must hear some horrible things,” said Buffy.

“That’s the truth,” said Spike as he leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the darkening sky. “We should probably get going, especially if we’re going to stop at the video and grocery stores on the way home.”

“I wish you had been there then,” said Buffy.

“Then?” prompted Spike.

“I called back then. I called the hotline. I told them about my mom’s drinking and how she was pregnant. I told them about Ted hitting me. I told them I wasn’t living there any more, but that I was worried… about the baby. The person I spoke with said that there really wasn’t much they could do. Oh, they told me that I should call back if I witnessed anything further, but that would have meant going back. And I couldn’t. I just…couldn’t,” finished Buffy.

Spike stood up and held out his hand. She carefully placed her hand inside his and allowed him to pull her to her feet and into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her protectively and kissed her on the top of her head. “You feel guilty.”

“And ashamed. Once I got out of Sunnydale I was so focused on myself, my future, I just never looked back,” revealed Buffy.

“You were just a child yourself, pet,” soothed Spike. “Your response was understandable. Don’t judge yourself too harshly. You did the best you could do at the time.”

“Thanks,” said Buffy as she pulled back slightly and once again looked over at Dawn. “I want to make up for it. Do you think that’s possible? Do you believe I can change things for her?”

“Absolutely,” said Spike with complete conviction. “Don’t you realize? You already have.”



CONTINUED...