Chapter Nine





Buffy tugged on the weeds in the garden, the garden she'd been neglecting doing anything with for a year. She sat back on her heels and surveyed her work. She'd done a lot in an hour. The soil was completely dug up and weeds lay in a heap in the wheelbarrow next to her.



"Hey, B, you want to take a rest? Maybe have some lemonade?" Faith called from the deck.



Buffy sighed, feeling the strain in her arms from all the tugging. She lifted them over her head and stretched. "Yeah, sure."



Getting up, she dusted off and meandered over to the deck, taking off her gardening gloves and accepting the tall glass of cool lemonade from Faith. "Thanks."



"So, you want to tell me why you're giving that garden a work out?"



Buffy shrugged, "It's time, don't you think?"



Faith sat down in the plastic lawn chair and squinted up at her, "Think so?"



Buffy took a few long gulps of lemonade and sat down across from Faith. "Why do I get the feeling we're not talking about the garden?"



"Maybe because we're not."



"You want to tell me what it is you are talking about?"



"Spike and my brother."



Buffy shook her head, "I don't know what you're talking about. There's nothing going on."



"So you don't have the hots for him?"



"I don't want to have this discussion with you," Buffy said and got up, heading towards the kitchen.



"Buffy-"



"What?" she exclaimed spinning to face her, "What? You going to get on me too? Going to make me feel guilty for having feelings I can't control?"



"So you admit it!"



Buffy fell silent.



"Who else is making you feel guilty?"



Buffy looked down, "Me. Just me. I look at your brother's picture every night and I think . . . I think . . ."



"You think about how you made a promise to my brother. How you made vows, right? Stood in front of a whole bunch of people and made promises to each other to be together forever."



Buffy shut her eyes, "Yes," she whispered.



"And then you think of how he's not here and wonder how he'd feel if you moved on."



"Yes."



"And?"



Buffy shook her head, "I don't know." She looked up at Faith, "What do you think?"



"I can't tell you how to live your life, Buffy."



"You're upset with me though."



Faith looked away, "I don't think this is a conversation we should be having right now."



"Why not?"



"Because . . . because one half of me says that the vows you took also state 'till death do us part' and he's . . . he's gone." Faith started to cry then, huge drops of tears cascading down her round cheeks. "And I hate seeing you so unhappy all the time and . . . and that jackass made you smile and laugh. The part that misses my brother so much everyday hates that someone else is there making you happy and I want to keep him away from you because you're Doyle's, but," she heaved in some air as the sobs wracked her body, "but I love you and I want you to be happy and I know Doyle's not here!"



Buffy, crying right along with her, took Faith in her arms and stroked her hair, trying to find the right words to say, but feeling bereft of any. Instead the two girls stood there holding onto each other, crying. They felt the shift beginning to happen, knew that the day was coming when the step toward moving on was fast approaching and that it had to happen eventually. They were filled with trepidation, and fear. Fear of the change; fear of letting go-- for what did it mean to let go? It was often easier to hold onto things; even it was grief, because the unknown could be so much scarier. Buffy was afraid she'd forget Doyle, forget what he meant to her, how happy they were and the life she had with him.



Faith was afraid she was losing the woman she had adopted as her sister; and afraid that she was betraying her brother by 'approving' of Buffy finding happiness with another man.



"We'll do this together," Buffy promised on a whisper.



Faith lifted her head and nodded, wiping away her tears.



"Come on, you can help me with the garden."



***************



Buffy was stunned when two days later Anya showed up with some news. She hadn't seen her since her escape from the restaurant, Anya having only called to see if she was all right. Buffy had merely explained it was too soon for her to be dating and did not appreciate being set up the way she had. Her friend had apologized and then stayed away.



Buffy wondered if perhaps she had insulted her. Anya tended to not like when things didn't go her way and Buffy neglected to take her advice. It was a facet of hers that had always annoyed Buffy, but at one point in time, she had needed someone to direct her in the task of everyday living since she hadn't been able to function. They'd gotten into a habit of sorts and it was a habit Buffy was looking to put the kibosh on.



Spike aside, setting her up in the manner she had was wrong. She was not a child and did not need to be told when to do things and be forced to do them when Anya felt it was ‘time’. She planned to explain herself better when they had a moment, but her friend’s news took the backseat to that particular discussion.



"He what?" Buffy said; her mouth agape as she plunked down on the couch.



"He broke up with me," Anya said again, sniffling slightly.



"Did he say why?" Buffy's heart was racing, had he said anything? Ratted her out?



"He said he wasn't in love with me."



"But-"



"I knew something was wrong, I just knew it."



"H-how?"



"He stopped having sex with me. Just stopped. That day he came to fix your fence? He gave me a nice send off and then refused to put out anymore."



"Well, Ahn, there is more to relationships than sex," Buffy said diplomatically.



"But it's quite an enjoyable part! I'm a sexual being, Buffy; I have needs. He has to go all high and mighty on me with his 'I'm not in love with you' speech. Nothing said he had to be in love with me. Not right away! We'd only been together a short time; I didn't expect him to love me right away!"



"Did you--?"



"Love him? No. I could have, I think, in time. But he didn't even give us a chance. We were having fun."



"Did you-did you say all that?"



"Of course I did."



"And?"



"And he said he was sorry and he left."



"Wow."



"Yeah. So would you talk to him for me?"



"Huh? What?"



"He liked you. I just want you to casually stop by and see him and let him know that I've moved on. I don't want him to think I'm still crying over him."



"You were crying over him?"



"Just a little."



"Anya, is it your ego that's hurt more or is it really Spike that you were crying about?"



"A little of both. Sixty- ego, forty- Spike. He gave really good orga-"



"Stop right there!" Buffy exclaimed, holding up her hands. "I'm not going to go over and talk to him."



"Please?"



"No."

"Buffy Summers - Doyle. Have I ever asked you for anything?" Anya demanded.



"No," Buffy replied weakly.



“I even have an excuse all set for you to see him,” Anya said, reaching into the plastic bag she’d brought in with her. She handed the items to Buffy proudly.



“A shirt –his, I presume. And a – Anya,” Buffy finished on a whine.



“What?” her friend said innocently.



“A box of condoms?”



“Yes, it was a box we’d—“



“I said stop with that already!”



“Look inside.”



“Do I have to?”



“Yes.”



Buffy gingerly opened the box, not wanting to think of Spike and Anya having sex for the sheer fact that she found herself jealous at the idea. “There’s a – one condom?” she looked up her in question.



Anya nodded smugly, “I want him to know that I’ve moved on and will be using – or already am using--the other ones.”



"You're unbelievable," Buffy grumbled. But then started to laugh. Only Anya could pull something like that and get away with it.



“Will you do it then?”



Heaving a sigh, Buffy nodded, “Yeah, I’ll do it.”



“You’re a life saver! Thank you!” And she swept Buffy up in a hug.



“You owe me big.”



*************



Buffy figured the longer she put off seeing Spike for Anya, the harder it’d be later on. So, she forced herself to see him the very next day.



Anya had given her the address for his home and told her to just go straight to the garage as that’s where he’d most likely be.



Taking a deep breath and trying to gather her wits about her, Buffy clutched the shirt, with the box of condoms wrapped inside and marched up to the white garage. He lived in a small house that appeared to fit maybe three bedrooms tops. It was all one level and colored pale yellow with white trim around the windows. It was cute she decided. She remembered Anya saying how huge the backyard was and that he had a small deck, a hammock, and an above ground pool. The way she was sweating from anxiety at the moment, she could have used a dip in that pool.



Knocking on the glass, she spied Spike peering around the corner from the Chevy he’d been working on. She waved to him and his eyebrow rose. It took him no time to stride across the garage and lift the gate. He wore a green t-shirt smeared with dried oil and grease, and ripped blue jeans also smeared. He was wiping his hands on a blue rag as he regarded her blankly for a minute and then ushered her in and closed the gate.



God, he looked good. Hot.



It was cool inside, and slightly dank, with shelves against the walls and tools cluttering them. He had a small fridge inside and the car itself took up a lot of the room.



“Buffy, what are you—“



“I came to give you this,” she said and handed over the items with a stiff arm.



He took them and put them on the trunk of the car, “Okay.”



“Don’t you want to look inside the shirt?”



One brow rose and, not taking his eyes off her, he opened the shirt. He chuckled, opened the box, and then laughed, “This supposed to be a subtle hint?”



“Yeah, she, uh, she wanted me to tell you that she’s not crying over you anymore.”



Spike shrugged, “Didn’t think she would be anymore.”



Nodding, Buffy clutched her purse tightly, “Well, I had a message to deliver so I did it. If you run into her, can you just let her know that I did it all stealth like instead of just blurting out what she wanted you to know?”



“Sure,” he nodded, and leaned his hip against the car.



“Okay, well then, I’m just gonna—“ she said, turning toward the gate and attempting to try and figure it out.



“Don’t go yet.”



She spun to him, the question having been on the tip of her tongue since she’d arrived. “Why did you do it? I told you not to break up with her.”



“I’m not in the business of taking orders, luv.”



“But—why? Weren’t you happy with her, at all? Even a little?”



“I was, for a while.”



“Don’t you think you could have stayed and feelings could have developed over time?”



He shook his head, “No.”



“Weren’t you, you know, having fun?”



“For a bit, yeah.”



“So, you just dump her? Sowed that oat and onto the next, is that it?”



“You just love to think the absolute worse of me, don’t you?”



“Spike—“



“Keeps you safe, doesn’t it? Makes it easier for you to distance yourself from me if you hate me.”



“What about you and the things you said to me?” she asked incredulously.



“Seems we both said some things we didn’t mean, don’t you think?” he asked softly, looking down.



“Under the circumstances, you can’t blame me.”



He looked up and nodded in agreement. “You’re right at that.”



“But, for what it’s worth, I am sorry. I know you’re not a . . . . oat sower.”



“Thank you. You saved me a trip, you know.”



She cocked her head to the side, “To Anya’s?”



He smiled gently, “No, kitten, to see you.”



“Me?”



He nodded and pushed off from the car and started stalking slowly towards her.



“You were going to see me? Why?”



“You underestimate yourself, you know that?” he whispered as he came upon her.



She looked up at him, feeling suddenly that the air was thick and she could not breathe. His blue eyes searched hers and her heart started hammering in her chest. “I—I do?”



He nodded and ever so lightly trailed his fingertips down her bare arm. Great job, Buffy, wearing the spaghetti strapped sundress when you’re coming to see Spike.



“You underestimate your allure,” he told her softly and leaned in so that she could feel his breath on her lips, “You call to me.”



“I – I do?” she croaked.



“Mmmm, so much. I’m drowning in you, Buffy,” he said a mere second before his lips covered hers in a searing kiss.



She could not stop herself from falling into the kiss with fervor. His kisses, oh God, his kisses filled her with such fire and now, now with his hands hot on her skin, she felt she was going to combust.



Someone groaned, she wasn’t sure who, as Spike sucked her tongue in his mouth. Weaving her arms around his neck she felt her feet lift off the ground and instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his erection between her legs.



“Spike,” she gasped, when he placed her on the trunk of the car.



Standing between her legs, he kissed her, hard, and yet sweetly, his lips trailing to her jaw, up to her ear and down her neck to across her collar bone.



“Buffy, my sweet Buffy,” he murmured and slid her straps down baring her breasts to his gaze.



She opened her mouth to protest when his lips covered her breast and he sucked her nipple in his mouth and then swirled his tongue around it. It sent shivers through her, delightful, pleasurable shivers that she hadn’t felt in a long time. While his mouth laved one breast, his hand was busy cupping her other breast and brushing his thumbs across her nipple, sending her body on pleasure overload. Her fingers twined in his curls, feeling the softness there.



She moaned. It was not going to take much for her to cum.



He looked up at her, his gaze intense, hot, lust-filled and needy. How so many emotions could be on the face of one man, she’d never know, but Spike did it effortlessly.



“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he whispered and leaned in to nuzzle her neck.



“You need to get out more,” she managed to say and he chuckled, sliding his hands under her dress and up her thighs.



“Spike . . . “ she moaned when his hands made contact with her panty clad pussy.



“Just feel, Buffy. Let me make you feel good.” Slipping a finger inside her panties, she gasped when he slid a finger inside her pussy and grazed her clit. Startled by the intense sensation, she clutched his shoulders.



“Yes, that’s my girl. Hold on to me. Hold onto me and I’ll make you feel so good,” he coaxed.



She heard the distinct sound of material ripping and realized he’d torn her panties off. “Spike!”



He grinned, “I’ll buy you more. All in. . . “he looked at the material in his hands. He groaned, “White.”



He kissed her hungrily, as he pumped her with his finger, adding another finger and circling her clit with his thumb.

“Oh God,” she moaned, closing her eyes and throwing her head back, losing herself to the sensations, to the way he was playing her body like a finely tuned instrument.



Hearing the sound of a zipper she looked down just as his erection popped free and his pants dropped to the floor. He was huge! He looked at her in question, asking her permission and she nodded, giving it eagerly.



Reaching over to the box of condoms, she fumbled with the box and took out the condom. She handed it to him and he growled, taking his fingers out of her core, and tore open the package, encasing himself in the latex quickly.



Putting his hands on her hips, he pulled her closer and her legs widened instinctively. His erection nudged her folds as he pulled her dress up higher.



“I can make love to you, right baby? Say yes, say you’ll let me make love to you . . . “ he whispered hotly in her ear, nibbling on it.



“Yes, yes,” she gasped. “Slow, it’s . . . it’s been a while.”



He looked her in the eyes, “I’ll never hurt you, Buffy. Take care of you, I will.” He started to slide in slowly, “Always.”



He moved in short strokes, working himself inside, and she thanked him for it. She felt very much like a virgin all over again. He peppered her face with kisses and murmured words of praise to her as he sawed in and out. Finally, when he was inside her completely, he held still and claimed her lips voraciously, sliding his tongue inside her mouth and tangling with hers.



He started to move slowly, thrusting in long strokes and hitting her clit with every dive back into her body.



She let out a whimper and buried her face in his neck, “Spike.”



“What is it baby? Tell me.”



“I’m not going to last long. I’m going to . . . “



“You can come for me, baby, I want you to. Please, come for me.”



“You . . . “



“Don’t worry about me,” he whispered, dotting kisses on her shoulder, “Don’t worry about me. Take your pleasure.”



She moaned and lifted her head, kissing him hard. He was moving faster now and she screamed softly inside his mouth and then came apart, tossing her head back and shouting her pleasure to the heavens.



A few hard strokes later he came with a roar of her name and devoured her mouth with his own. Panting, he buried his face in her neck and nibbled lightly. His arms came about her, holding her tightly against him.



“I guess it’s a good thing she left you that condom, huh?” Buffy said weakly and Spike started to laugh.
 

Chapter Ten


Spike felt it the moment regret set in for Buffy. He had been holding onto her, unwilling to let her go, not wanting to ruin the perfect blissful moment of holding her after having mind blowing sex with her - scratch that. After having made love to her, the only time in his life he'd ever made love to anyone.

He knew what she'd say if he told her that, she'd say 'Well, you're only twenty-two.' It would also be just another reminder of Doyle and that was something he was looking to avoid. He didn't want to push for the guilt to come. Selfish of him, yes, but he wanted the moment for himself. He wanted her to be right there with him, and for a few blissful minutes, she was.

When she started to move from him, he held her fast and she only succeeded in having his cock slip out of her.

"Spike-"

"No, I don't want to let you go."

"Spike, please," and she heard the strain in her voice, the threat of tears.

"Do it," he whispered. "Let it out. Let it all out."

And surprisingly, she did. She cried while he held her and he let her, it was better than having her run out and fight harder for her later on. No, he wanted her with him when she had these moments, wanted her to be able to let go with him. He hoped, and he was still testing the waters of his theory, that given enough time and allowing him to be there for her and accept that he was not going to go anywhere, that he was there for the long haul, she'd one day fall in love with him.

"That was the first time since . . . You were the first, " she murmured.

Thank you didn't seem to be the correct response so he chose to stay mute and let her say what she needed to say. After a few minutes, she shifted again, but she was no longer tense.

"Kitten, want to come inside? Mmm? I'll make you lunch and you can clean up."

She nodded in agreement and he finally pulled back to look at her. God, she was gorgeous. And he couldn't stop himself from telling her so. Promptly, she blushed and looked away.

"You better get used to it, kitten. I plan to tell you that a lot."

She blushed harder making her even more adorable, and he wanted her again. However, it was best to go slowly, though nothing about this coupling had been slow. Next time, he planned to savor it, planned to map out her body with his hands and tongue and love every inch of her. He'd been so desperate for her from the minute he'd seen her pixie face in the window of the garage gate, that when she allowed him to touch her, it was full steam ahead.

Now things felt delicate and he was unsure of the next move, only knew that he had to take it slow and steady and let her guide him. It was imperative that she feel in control now.

Helping her right her sundress after fixing his pants, he helped her slide down the trunk of the car, noticing with male pride the fact that her legs were shaking slightly. He plastered on an encouraging smile and she surprised him by smiling back, albeit a wobbly, uncertain smile. Still, the intent was there, and he'd take it.

He led her to a door on the side of the garage with a small walkway that led to his home. The home he'd bought with his inheritance. His Aunt Jenny had done most of the decorating to save it looking like a bachelor lived there, even if one did. She added plush couches, comfortable chairs, curtains and other little things that he never would have thought of. It still appeared as though a man lived there, and alone, but not as bare as it would have been if his aunt hadn't helped him out.

Leading her into the sunny kitchen, he took her hand and took her through the kitchen, around the living room and into the hall where the bathroom was nestled. That was the only room Aunt Jenny hadn't gotten to for it was stark white with no pictures on the wall, no frilly things to spruce it up. Just the essentials - blinds to block peeping toms, and a matching white shower curtain.

"It's not as 'touched up' as the rest of the house, I apologize," he told her, flicking the light on.

"I don't care about that stuff," she said, waving him off.

"Your house is so nice though."

She shrugged, "It takes time. I'm not a snob, Spike."

He smiled, "I know you're not. I'll be in the kitchen. Think you can find your way back?"

"Yep."

Preparing a lunch of tomato soup with tuna sandwiches and iced tea, Spike was stunned to discover that he too, was shaking. He knew it had more to do with his fear of having driven Buffy away from him than the sex however. He wondered then if that was why she shook. Was she plotting her escape? Trying to figure out how to leave without hurting him? God, he wouldn't be able to bear it if she left like that. On the other hand though, he didn't plan on letting her go.

Ever.

"Did you do the decorating?" Buffy asked, startling him slightly as she entered the kitchen.

He looked over his shoulder at her, "Uh, no. My aunt did."

"She did a nice job. I love the living room. You could get lost in that couch."

He grinned, "I think I have."

She came over beside him, "Anything I can do?"

His head filled with the image of her wrapping her arms around him from behind and leaning her head ever so slightly on his back. That's what she could do.

"Stir the soup?" he suggested instead.

Moving to the stove, she stirred the soup in silence and he watched her, her hip up against the counter, and her neck to the side. He couldn't resist; he had to touch her. Coming over to her, he nuzzled her neck from behind and heard her sharp intake of breath. Deciding that was enough for now, he went back to the sandwiches.

***************

"Anya told me you had a great backyard. She wasn't lying," Buffy said, surveying the space.

"Thanks," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich and watching her.

"Don't you feel this is . . . odd?"

"What's odd, luv?"

"We just . . . and here we are . . . and I feel . . ."

"Odd?"

She nodded, looking down at her half finished sandwich.

Reaching across the table, he grabbed her hands in his and kissed her fingers. "Don't feel odd. Not with me. Not ever with me, kitten."

"But-"

He shook his head, "No buts. Not right now, okay? I just want to be with you right now and -"

"But Spike-"

"You done with your sandwich?"

She blinked at him in confusion. "Yeah, why?"

"Let's swing in the hammock."

"What?"

He stood and reached out his hand, "Come on. Come with me, please."

Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand. Kissing her quickly, he led her to the hammock and they scooted on it, quite ungracefully, but it made her laugh and that was all he cared about. Under the shade of two trees, they swung, and shortly fell asleep.

**************

Waking up slowly, Spike was distinctly aware that this was not his bed, and Anya was not the one tucked into his side.

He looked down and smiled. Buffy. How long had they been asleep?

Glancing down at his watch, he surmised at least an hour had gone by. Buffy stirred beside him and he watched her fight it and then start to stretch, letting out little moans of protest along the way. Then her eyes fluttered open and fell on him. She smiled, thank you Gods in Heaven, she smiled.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked.

"Only an hour."

She yawned, "Sorry."

"Don't be. I slept too."

She looked up and around, seeming deep in thought and he watched her, wondering what was going on in her head.

Finally, she looked up at him with a soft, little grin, “This is nice.”

“What the yard? Or . . . ?”

She smiled fuller now, shyly, “The ‘or’.”

He relaxed, not knowing how tense he was until he felt his muscles give way. “You . . . like it?

She nodded, “I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve just been held.”

Scooting down so that their heads were level, he leaned in and kissed her, sweetly, not pushing for anything, just hoping to offer her the continued peace that seemed to have settled over her.

He parted, leaning his forehead against hers, with an arm wrapped around her middle. “I like to hold you, so I can do it at anytime you want—“

“Anya,” she blurted out.

He blinked, “What about her?”

“She’s going to be upset,” she sighed, turning her head and looking up towards the sky.

“Buffy, we’re broken up. I broke up with her because of you—“

“Y-you did?” she asked, her eyes widening and looking back at him.

“Haven’t you figured that part out yet?”

“You said it was because you weren’t in love with – oh. Oh.” She started to make toward climbing out of the hammock and he pulled her back against him.

“Buffy, stop. Don’t run from me.”

“But you—you . . . You—“

“Buffy, I didn’t say it, did I?”

“It’s implied.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not pushing for anything from you. I’m just asking that you stay here and talk to me. And tomorrow I’m going to ask for you to spend some time with me. That’s all. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?”

“But Anya –“

“Anya’s ego was hurt more than anything else. She wasn’t in love with me was she?”

“No, but she’s not going to take kindly to the fact that we – that we –“

“That we’re friends?”

“We had sex!”

“I’m not going to tell her, are you?”

“No!.”

“Then?”

She rolled her eyes, “Men. You have such simple answers for everything.” This time she succeeded in crawling off the hammock. She looked at him, exasperated, with her hands on her hips.

“Because it is simple Buffy!” he exclaimed, climbing out and facing her down from the other side of the hammock.

“You obviously don’t understand the complexness of women relationships.”

“You’re right, I don’t. I don’t understand why Anya, whom I not with anymore and who, might I add, was just setting you up the other night with Captain Cardboard, would stand in the way of your happiness with someone else. Even if it is me. If she was your friend, she’d get over it and let you live your life.”

She stared at him and then started to laugh. He stared at her, wondering if she’d gone mad.

“Captain Cardboard?” she said between laughter.

He grinned, “Well, yeah.”

“Spike,” she started when she’d calmed.

“Don’t say it. Don’t end this because of Anya.”

“This? What is ‘this’? There is no ‘this’.”

“There will be.”

“Spike—“

“I’m asking you to spend time with me Buffy. Stop thinking so much. If you feel more comfortable not letting Anya know for now, don’t let her know. Just, God, Buffy, I just want to spend some time with you.” He hadn’t meant for the last part to come out so needy, but it had, and he just hoped she didn’t reject him.

She sighed resolutely, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Can I seal that with a kiss?”

She broke into a light smile, “Yes.”

He held out his hand, “Come here.”

Coming around the hammock, she took his hand and he brought her in the circle of his arms, kissing her soundly. Kissing the top of her forehead he said, “I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“My parents.”

“Your parents?”

He nodded, and released her. Taking her hand, he led her in the house and into the living room. In the corner of the navy and cream room was a little makeshift reading area with a coffee table, a lamp and a bookcase next to it. On the coffee table was a picture of his parents and himself at ten years old. He picked it up and handed it to her.

“Spike, you were so cute!”

He frowned, “’Were’?”

She looked up at him with a teasing smile, “Give me a break. You know you’re hot.”

He grinned, “Still like to hear you say it.”

Rolling her eyes, she gazed back down at the picture. “You look like your Dad. What was his name?”

“William Robert Gardner.”

“So you’re a junior.”

“I think you know I’m not a junior.”

She giggled. “But, you have your mother’s eyes.”

“Whose eyes do you have, sweetheart?”

She wrinkled her nose. “My Dad’s.” Then she looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“I know. Lunch.”

“We’ll go with that then.”

“So . . . dinner?”

“I can’t. Anya’s coming by after she gets out of work . . . “

“Okay,” he nodded, “Tomorrow then?”

She took a deep breath, “Tomorrow.”
 

Chapter Eleven



Buffy wasn’t ready to get up just yet. She felt completely drained from the day before and sore in places she hadn’t been sore in for a really long time. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Doyle’s picture on her nightstand.

Well, that did it.

Tired, she got up, resenting every movement and padded down the stairs to make coffee. She was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact she’d gone to see Spike with one task in mind and somehow ended up having sex with him on the trunk of an old car. The whole day after that had a sort of surreal feeling to it, as if she were someone else.

What was it about that man that made her unable to control herself? Aside from his good looks, tight body and heart -stopping smile.

His kindness, the way he listened to her and understood her, the way he saw right to the heart of her and didn’t let her hide. Course, not letting her hide was also what drove her crazy about him. He challenged her.

Had Doyle challenged her?

That thought horrified her. She couldn’t believe she even thought it. There would be no comparing and contrasting Doyle and Spike. They were like apples and oranges and Doyle had been her husband, her love. Spike was . . . Spike was … she couldn’t even define it. Her friend? Yes, but he felt more than that, especially after having sex with him, but it was more than that . . . She just couldn’t define it.

Perhaps it was the fact alone that she had had sex with him that was muddling her thoughts. She had never been the type to have casual affairs -- that was Anya and Faith. Buffy had a few boyfriends in high school, but never had sex until she met Doyle in college. He’d been it.

Until now.

Could she define this as moving on or was Spike some kind of rite of passage she had to go through? Like a rebound guy she had to lean on in order to pull herself together.

The fact of the matter was, she didn’t know what to make of any of it aside from the fact that she felt compelled to hide it from Anya to protect her and their friendship and she was not yet ready to tell Faith because she just didn’t know what was happening. Was it possible to just not know?

Sipping her coffee, Buffy decided she had to get out for a while. She just needed to take a drive, maybe stop by the gallery, generally just needed to get out of the house and clear her head.

She ignored the voice in her head that told her that she was avoiding Spike. She ignored the other voice that argued back she wouldn’t be able to avoid Spike for long.

Instead, Buffy decided she was developing an acute case of schizophrenia.

**********
Spike watched Buffy pull in her driveway with a wry smile. He hadn’t been waiting long, only a half hour, but he had to wonder if she was avoiding him.

Actually, he didn’t have to wonder. He knew she was. He expected it actually, which was why he didn’t just turn around and go home to wait for her to call or come over. He was going to prove to Buffy Summers – Doyle that he was not going anywhere, no matter what she did – or didn’t do.

He stood, the cooler he’d brought over next to him.

Climbing out of her car, she gave him a funny look. “Hi,” she said uncertainly.

“Hi.”

She came over, fiddling with her keys, “Have you been here long?”

“Not at all.”

“I figured you’d call . . . “

“Well, I decided to take my chances and stop by. Not avoiding me are you?”

She walked past him, heading for the door. “No, of course not.”

With her back to him, Spike leaned in from behind, placing a hand on the door and brushed his lips across her ear. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you Buffy?” he whispered huskily.

She shivered, a fact he noted smugly. “No,” she told him indignantly.

“Can I get my kiss now?”

“Not out here,” she reprimanded, slipping her key in the door and unlocking it. Once the door was open, she stepped inside and turned. Her mouth opened, ready to say something, and he beat her to the chase by kissing her soundly instead.

“You were going to say?” he asked when he parted, resting his forehead against hers.

Flushed, with her eyes slightly glazed over she cleared her throat and shook her head. “I – uh – I don’t remember.”

Kissing her quickly, he released her and went for his cooler. “I brought some food; some steak.”

A brow rose, “For lunch?”

“Or, for dinner.”

She smirked, “Oh really?”

He grinned at her, “Can’t blame a bloke for trying can you?”

“You’re kind of sly like Anya, you sure you don’t want her back?”

Spike laughed, “Anya is not that sly. She’s pretty straight-forward. And no, I don’t want her back. Remember why I broke up with her in the first place?”

“So, steak huh? You going to make them or do I have to?”

He decided to let it go that she’d ignored his question. “I’ll make them. You can just sit and look pretty,” he teased.

“I’ll make mashed potatoes and gravy instead.”

“See? You’re already helping. And hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“I’ve got a box of condoms, with all the condoms.”

Buffy burst out laughing and walked away from him, “Shut the door, please.”

Well, he thought, that’s a step in the right direction. She didn’t kick me out.

****************

“So, how is Anya anyway?” Spike asked, as they sat outside on the grass on a blanket – his request – with some lemonade, chips, and ham and cheese sandwiches between them.

“She’s fine. She just wanted to make sure I delivered the message.”

“You were sweating it out, weren’t you?”

She laughed airily, “I was. I’m not very good at lying in case you didn’t know.”

“I never would have guessed,” he said in mock disbelief, stretching out on his side and looking up at her.

She swatted him playfully and sat up on her heels. “Aren’t you a funny man? She didn’t stay long, just had to do the play by play of what you said and I even had to act it out.”

“Act it out?”

“You know facial expressions and all that. Your tone of voice, all of that stuff women do when they like a guy.”

“Oh really? I didn’t know facial expressions and the tone of voice was important.”

Buffy nodded profusely, “Oh but it is! Because if they sounded indifferent, or excited, or just pretending to be indifferent, but kind of curious, it all makes a difference.”

Spike shook his head in disbelief. “It all sounds like a lot of work to me.”

“It is,” Buffy said, wrinkling her nose. “That in itself does not make me want to join the dating world any sooner.”

“Well,” Spike drawled and reached out, tugging on her arm and making her tumble in next to him. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close. “You don’t have to worry about the dating world.”

She raised a brow, “Oh?”

He nodded and brushed her hair through his fingers away from her face. “You’re not allowed to join it as a matter of fact.”

She giggled. “Says you, right?”

He smiled,” That’s my girl,” he said proudly and kissed her before she could retort with an ‘I’m not your girl’. She was his girl; she just didn’t know it yet.

Rolling her so that he was nestled between her legs, and kicking and shoving all food particles aside, he kissed her leisurely, committing her taste to memory, savoring every moan and every flick of her tongue against his. He was rock hard and straining in his pants and she was wearing another one of those damn sundresses again. He ground himself against her and delighted in the gasp that escaped her parted mouth.

He grinned down at her, dotting her face with kisses. “You drive me mad,” he whispered between kisses. “I’m insane for you; want you so much Buffy.”

She kissed him eagerly and it occurred to him that Buffy was starved for affection. She’d gone so long without it that maybe saying she was ‘hard up’ was not that far off. Though there were better ways to say it, and he regretted ever saying it so crassly. There was a passionate, loving woman hiding behind the walls of grief, doubt and her, he thought perhaps, misguided loyalty to her friend – for what true friend would keep her from finding true happiness? Buffy could be perhaps right though, perhaps he truly didn’t understand the complexities of women relationships. Men were wired different. They didn’t let women get between them, especially if they knew said woman made their friend happy. Seemed the complete opposite for women however; seemed there was an unwritten rule – or rules—in the ways of men, women and relationships. One of them being: Thou shalt not covet thy friends ex boyfriend. Even if said ex boyfriend only left ex girlfriend because he was insane for the friend.

Augh! His mind was muddled with it. How did women do it?

Back to making love to Buffy. Ah, sweet Buffy. World be damned when she was in his arms, responding to his touch and his words – note to self: Compliment Buffy every chance you get.

He was back to hiking her skirt up again and she giggled into his mouth. He drew his head back, “What’s that then?”

“All we need is a car; seems we’re already in a pattern.”

He grinned and grabbed hold of her panties again. Her eyes widened and he dutifully ripped them.

“Spike!”

“Well, if we’re going to continue the trend. . “ he said and descended to nibble on her delectable neck.

“We should –“ moan “—go inside.”

“Nonsense. The hedged and fence are high enough to block us from prying eyes. Besides, I want you so much, Buffy, I can’t wait for inside. I need you now.”

“Condom?”

“Pocket.”

“Presumptuous?”

“Prepared.”

“That works,” and she placed her hands on the hem of his shirt. Moving her hands from there, he pushed them down to the snap of his jeans.

“Here,” he rasped with need, “Here’s where I need your touch.”

Fumbling with his snap and zipper, she succeeded in pushing his pants down off his hips. As an after thought, she reached in his pockets to extract the condom and then used her slender legs to push his pants down the rest of the way.

He groaned, “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

She smiled and kissed him sweetly and he tangled his fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss to all out hunger.

Not wanting to release her for even a second, but knowing he had to get the condom on; he reared up on his heels and ripped open the packet. Brushing his fingers away, she took the condom out and slid it down his length, pumping him with her hot, delicate little hands.

“Fuck,” he muttered when she squeezed the tip and slid down his shaft once more.

Growling, he pushed her back down and she wrapped her legs around him, grinding her center against his rock hard cock. “Spike, please,” she moaned.

“Baby, I want to make sure you’re ready for me.”

“I’m ready,” she said in husky, phone sex voice that he hoped to hear more of. To emphasize her point, she reached between them and guided him into her. “See?” she moaned as he slid inside, “All wet and ready.”

“Oh God Buffy, you don’t know what you do to me,” he groaned and slid slowly out before sliding slowly back in.

“Mmmm. . . feels so good.”

Reaching under her bottom, he lifted her hips higher, allowing him to go deeper into her. Her eyes widened at the sensation and she slid her arms down his back. “Mmmm. I want to feel you,” she murmured, reaching for the hem of his shirt again.

“Not yet,” he told her and circled his hips, hitting her at just the right angle.

Her eyes shut and she brought his head down, kissing him languidly as he stroked himself in and out of her, his pace picking up. Reaching between them, he started flicking her clit to bring on her pleasure.

“Spike, oh god.”

“That’s it, cum for me, Buffy. Cum all over my cock, beautiful girl.”

Her eyes rolled and he felt her walls start to flutter around him; she was going to go off at any moment. “Look at me when you cum, Buffy. I want you to look at me.”

Her eyes flew open and she let out a silent cry of pleasure, her walls tightening and milking him, sending him into his orgasm. He cried her name, and pumped his cock in and out, riding out his orgasm.

Collapsing against her, he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling it lazily.

“Am I crushing you?” he asked softly.

“No,” she said tiredly.

“Mind if I stay like this for a while?”

“Not at all,” she sighed, sounding happily sated.

Adjusting himself to gaze down at her, she smiled lazily up at him, her skin flushed and damp from sweat, her lips plump from his kisses. One thought ran through his mind as he beheld her: I’m in love with you, Buffy.
 

Chapter 12:

“You know, I’m not going to have any panties left at this rate,” Buffy said, frowning at him as she scooped up her torn garment off the blanket and dangled it in front of her.

Snapping up his jeans, Spike grinned at her, “Well then, go without.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’d be a nice show for everyone down at the grocery store.”

“Let me amend that. Go without with me, but not for anyone else.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “So caveman of you. Keep me ‘accessible’?”

“Yeah, why not?” he teased, eyes twinkling in humor.

“Yeah, not even on especially ‘randy’ days was Doyle ---“ she stopped abruptly. “Sorry.”

Getting a far away look in her eyes, she looked down.

Coming over to her, Spike placed a hand on her shoulder and tried not to let it hurt him when she flinched at his touch. “Buffy, it’s okay. You can talk to me about him. You did before, you can still.”

“It was different before,” she said softly.

“How?”

“You were with – and I was just – there was no –“ she gestured between them, “This.”

“This doesn’t change how you can still talk to me, Buffy. It’s just . . . it’s another layer.”

“So, I can have sex with you and still talk about my dead husband and it won’t bother you?”

“Buffy, I have no illusion that I’ll somehow ever replace Doyle. I’m not under the illusion that you don’t still think of him, and miss him, and love him still. He was your husband and you lost him way before it was time. And I know that when starting on something new like this, you’re going to think of him—“

She shook her head, “I don’t even know what this is, Spike. Don’t you get it? I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what to do. I feel like a fish out of water. The pieces don’t fit-“

“Oh, no. That’s where you’re wrong. The pieces do fit. Very well, I might add. It just starts with two Buffy, and then the other pieces fall into place. I’m here to tell you to take that time. I’m not pushing you to start a new life and be done with the old without having the time to reconcile yourself with it all. I’m just asking if I can be there with you, by your side, on the journey. With me you don’t have to be a widow, or a surrogate sister, or an obligated best friend. All you have to be is you, Buffy. The good days and the bad days, I’ll take them. There’s no rush.”

Her eyes welled up in tears, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he whispered and gathered her in his arms.

“I am anyway.”

”Who am I to argue with a lady?”

She snorted and looked up at him, wiping her eyes. He smiled down at her, batting her hands away lightly so he could brush her tears away. “Can I make a suggestion that might make it easier?”

She groaned and pointed a finger at him, “Don’t. I know what you’re going to say.”

“We could go twenty rounds on this Buffy. Tell Anya. It’ll help with the guilt factor. I can’t help with the guilt you feel for Doyle, but you can help the guilt you feel for Anya.”

“I’m not ready yet, Spike. I was kind of hoping to wait until she found someone else.”

“She hasn’t yet?”

She’s fast, but not that fast.”

He shrugged.

She eyed him curiously, “It wouldn’t bother you?”

“What wouldn’t bother me?”

“If she was dating someone else. Would you be jealous?”

He shook his head, “No, Buffy, I wouldn’t be jealous. If you remember how I wanted to rip Captain Cardboard’s arms off for just being there – and that was all because of you kitten.” Leaning in, he punctuated the statement with a peck on her nose. “Hey, Buffy, what are you planning to do with all that upturned soil over there?” he asked.

Glancing over, she groaned. “That is my garden. The garden I neglected for a year. When I was angry with you last week, I needed a way to relieve some of my stress so I started working on it. I imagined I was ripping your legs off every time I pulled a weed.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She laughed, “Anytime. I have some plants in the garage ready to be transplanted in there. I just haven’t had the chance to do it yet.”

He grinned, “Let’s do it now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“No reason why not, I guess. I mean, are you sure you want to?” she was looking at him as if he were nuts.

“I’m sure I want to,” he said, nodding resolutely.

She broke out in a wide smile and he could see the excitement in her eyes. “Okay. Do you know anything about planting?”

“Not really, but you could teach me.”

“On one condition.”

Eyebrow raised he asked suspiciously, “What?”

“You teach me about cars. I know nothing and I hate being the ‘damsel in distress’ or the woman who gets swindled when I take my car in.”

“Buffy, you just bought a new car.”

”There will come a day when I need something done to it.”

“And that’s why I’m here.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to show me or not?”

He laughed, “Yes, I’ll show you, grease monkey. Only if you promise to wear those overalls you used when painting the fence.”

Her brows knit in confusion. “My overalls? Why?”

“Because they make me want to rip them off you. I need incentive, and undressing you is definitely an incentive.”

“No wonder you and Anya started dating – you’re both so—“ She never got to finish that sentence because he clamped a hand over her mouth, effectively stopping her.

“Stop talking about Anya and I in terms of dating, please. We’re not together anymore and it’s not helping you tell her if you keep referring to ways Anya and I would be perfect together. We’re not. I don’t want to be with Anya. I want to be with you. She never got me the way you get me.”

She nodded in agreement and peeled his hand off her mouth. “Okay, but there’s something I want you to do for me that you never did for her then.”

He tucked his tongue behind his front teeth and leered at her, waggling his brows, “And that would be?”

“I want you to tell me why you refuse to take your shirt off during sex.”
 

Chapter 13:

Spike froze. He had not expected that to come out of her mouth. Not at all. All he could do was stare at her, his mind going blank. His girl was not dumb, no sir, not his Buffy. She was smart as a whip and just as he'd suspected, she wouldn't let it go for long. She'd caught on right quick and he knew that trying to distract her would not work at all.

"Spike, I'm waiting." She folded her arms across her chest and studied him. "I know Anya thought it was 'kinky' and never asked. I also know she didn't really put that much thought into it, but I always wondered."

"Y-you knew?"

She rolled her eyes, "You really do have a lot to learn about women. Women talk, Spike."

"Great, you guys can compare notes now," he snapped.

"No," she said gently, "no note comparing. I usually tell Anya to stop when she starts getting into her sexcapades. And trust me, after we - started -this," she stumbled on the words, "I didn't want to hear about it concerning you."

"Why?" he asked hoarsely.

"Because I was jealous."

He couldn't help the smile that was lifting the corners of his mouth. "You were? Really?"

She nodded. "Really. Doesn't mean I haven't noticed the whole keeping- the- shirt- on thing on my own though. I mean, first time, I can understand to an extent, in a garage, kind of awkward and a little rushed-"

"Hey!"

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy it. I'm just saying it wasn't so noticeable then. But today. . ." she trailed off, gazing down at the blanket. "I wanted to take your shirt off and touch you and you distracted me-nicely-but still. What's going on? You have a scar you don't want to -"

"Yes," he said softly. "I have a scar. And I'm very self-conscious about it."

"You've seen my nose, right?"

He looked up at her, startled, "Huh?"

"My nose," she said, pressing her finger to it and wrinkling it, causing him to chuckle. "It's weird, right? I used to get teased all the time about it-"

"I love your nose!"

She smiled, "Thank you, but it's not your 'conventional' nose."

"Buffy, nothing about you is conventional," he told her matter-of-factly.

"Thanks, but my point is, I used to hate it. Thought it was the worst part of me and I begged and begged and begged for my parents to let me get plastic surgery to get it fixed. Then, when they said no, I swore I'd save up the money. And I did for a little while, but you know, as I got older, my nose grew on me."

"Kind of like Pinocchio?"

"Ha ha. I looked in the mirror one day and I realized my nose didn't define me, but it did make me unique. It made me Buffy. To get rid of it would be . . . a travesty, a sin. It'd be getting rid of something that was part of me and how could I do that?"

"I'd hate to see how you feel about people with an extra arm that have the opportunity to get it removed," Spike said dryly.

She gave him a look, "Don't do that Spike. You tell me not to hide, so I'm telling you not to hide. If I have to be me, then you have to be you. And if you have a scar, then it's part of you and I don't care-"

"I had a heart transplant, Buffy," he blurted out softly, so softly, he was sure he'd have to repeat himself.

She blinked, "What?"

"Remember how I told you my uncle had the transplant?"

She nodded.

"It was me, it wasn't him."

"Why-why did you lie to me? Why did you say that it was someone else when it was you?"

He hung his head.

"Spike," she said gently, walking to him and touching his arm, "Spike, look at me, please."

He looked up at her, afraid for some reason that she would reject him for it. That she would treat him like a freak, or handle him with kid gloves, as if he would break.

"Why are you ashamed of it?" she asked, her brow furrowing in complete confusion, as if she just couldn't wrap her mind around it.

No scorn, no pity, no drawing away from him. He straightened. "Something in me failed. It just stopped working right and after my parents . . . "

"You feel like you failed."

And there it was. The reason he felt so connected to her, the reason why he felt more and more everyday that she was his salvation-his light at the end of a lonely and dark tunnel. She got him.

"Spike, no," she shook her head, "You didn't fail. You're here, how can you see that as failing? You succeeded! You're alive and you're well - you are well, aren't you?"

He nodded, "Yes."

"I think it's amazing. Truly amazing. A miracle. Spike, bodies are faulty, they are not wired to stay together forever. Things happen - accidents," she paused and took a deep breath, gathering herself from that, "happen. The fact is, you're standing right here in front of me and that's something to be happy about, not something to be ashamed of."

Oh God, he felt like a poncy git. His bloody eyes were welling up in bloody tears at her words. And then, when he thought he could somehow hold himself together and maybe jet off to the bathroom to gather himself - she launched herself in his arms and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to his scar, to his heart, and kissed it.

"You're not broken, and you're not a failure. You're Spike."

"Buffy," he whispered, quite close to losing it.

She looked up at him and smiled. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she cradled his face in her hands and kissed him, sweetly. "It's okay, Spike. You don't have to be anyone but you. I don't want you to hide from me. You don't let me hide and I'm sure as hell not going to let you hide. Especially over something that you should be celebrating, not spending your time being ashamed of."

The tears - the buggers-were falling from his eyes now freely, and she didn't laugh at him for it. Instead, she kissed each tear away, which only caused them to fall faster.

She was an angel. That was all there was to it. She was an angel and she was there, on this Earth, for him. To heal him, and he, he hoped with everything in him, he was her angel, sent to heal her.

With a whimper, he wrapped his arms about her waist and lifted her slightly, crushing his lips to her in a wholly demanding kiss. "I need you," he told her hoarsely.

She kissed him amorously, "Inside," she whispered.

He nodded and let her guide him, thinking he meant that in two ways: One, he needed her in his life because she completed him and healed him, and, he did need her, needed to be inside her and feel her surrounding him because it was her.

"I have to get the condoms in my car," he moaned regretfully.

"Go, I'll be waiting in the living room," she said huskily and he tore out to his car in record speed.

Coming back inside, he ran into the living room where she was perched on the couch, her sundress discarded -- everythingdiscarded.

"Jesus, you're gorgeous," he murmured, his eyes absorbing her sun-kissed skin.

She crooked her finger at him, "Come here."

Tossing the box on the coffee table, he all but dove on top of her. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands skimming over her body, feeling the satiny smoothness of her skin.

"My angel," he whispered, and took a breast in his mouth, suckling from it and cupping the other in his hand, slightly tweaking her nipple. Her fingers tunneled through his hair and he buried his face in the valley between her breasts, intent on tasting her, intent on tasting every inch of her. Sitting back, he took one long slender leg and pressed kisses on her feet, chuckling when she scrunched up her nose and looked away. He repeated the same action to the other leg and then laid it down, adjusting himself on his knees to worship her. Kissing up her calves and thighs, Buffy moaned and pulled at him, begging for more.

"Sit up, baby."


She moved so that she sat before him and he immediately spread her wide for him. Leaning forward, he inhaled her sweet nectar and his mouth watered. Pulling her so that her bottom rested on the edge of the cushion, he gave her one long lick up her slit. Her hips jerked and she moaned.

He licked his lips, "Mmmm, you taste like honey, Buffy."

Running her fingers through his hair, she put pressure on his head and he chuckled. Kitten wanted more. But that was fine cause the cat wanted more cream.

Parting her nether lips with his fingers, he twirled his tongue around her clit and then sucked it in his mouth, taking delight in the mewls that escaped her. Wetting his finger by sucking it into his mouth, he inserted it inside her, curled his finger to find the spongy bundle of nerves, and when he did, she nearly bucked up off the couch. With his finger inside her, causing her to thrash and moan on the couch before him, Spike busied himself with taking his pleasure from her juicy and sweet pussy. Licking up the juices that were flowing freely, he suckled her clit into his mouth and she exploded.

She was panting heavily and whimpering, nearly sobbing out her release. Extracting his finger, he spent ample time cleaning her of her spendings, all the while moaning in delight.

"Spike," she whimpered, "I want you up here."

Spike stood and watched her as she cupped her own breasts in her hands and tweaked her nipples.

Gods, but she was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. Kicking off his shoes and discarding his pants, he leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her head and kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms around him.

"Take off your shirt," she whispered.

"Not ready for that just yet, okay?"

"Okay, when you're ready."

He did however, let her run her hand up and inside his shirt, he froze when her fingers skirted over his scar and then descended down, only to go back up. He watched her face as she traced his scar, the gash that started just below his collar and went down across his chest, right over the heart she had now claimed as her own, but did not know. She smiled tenderly as she did traced it, and he was brought nearly to his knees when she said "Beautiful."

Gulping he grabbed a condom and again, she insisted on putting it on him. Still leaning over the couch, he really almost did collapse when she bent and took him in her mouth. His eyes shut and he swore. She suckled the head into her mouth while her hand pumped him and then fondled his balls.

That was all he could stand.

"Buffy, now," he rasped and she nodded.

Lying back on the couch, she opened her arms and her legs to receive him and the thought passed through his mind that she probably didn't even realize how freely she gave herself to him; how she opened herself up for him and caught him every time.

Sliding himself inside her and falling into her embrace, he thought, 'home'. Slowly, they made love; their bodies moving together in synchronicity. They whispered endearments to each other, nonsensical words that only they understood. They kissed and moved, writhed and moaned, and when they reached the crescendo they each let go, reaching for the heavens together and making it; only to fall together with their arms wrapped around each other.

Buffy fell asleep soon after, curled in his arms and Spike watched her as she slept. Studied her nose that he loved, her eyelashes, and how they curled and brushed on her cheek. He kissed her cheek and delighted in how her face turned toward his, seeking him out, and he too fell asleep soon after, wrapped in the arms of his angel on Earth.
 

Chapter 14:

“Oh my God!”

“Don’t you knock?”

Buffy jerked awake and shot up, trying to gather her bearings. Faith. Faith was standing in the doorway, her mouth gaping open, eyes wide.

Looking down, Buffy noticed she was as naked as the day she was born – and so was Spike, well, except for the shirt he wore. Currently, he was trying to free the blanket from the back of the couch, which was proving difficult since he was laying half on it, and it was tucked into the cushion.

“I never knock!” Faith shouted at him.

“Well maybe you should start!” Spike snapped at her and finally succeeded in un-tucking the blanket and covering them.

Jerking into action, Buffy jumped up and took the blanket with her.

“Hey!” Spike exclaimed. “My dangly bits are all out for the world to see!”

Deftly, while trying to wrap herself in the blanket, Buffy reached to the floor and picked up his pants, tossing them at his “dangly bits” while Faith snorted at him.

Finally, wrapping the blanket around her with as much grace as she could muster, Buffy faced Faith. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

“Not as well as you apparently.”

“Faith—“

Faith held up her hand. “It’s okay.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Stunned, right now. Possibly scarred for life – dude, you’re like my sister. I don’t want to think of you having sex. Ever. Not even when it was with my brother.”

Without warning, Buffy burst into tears.

“Buffy?” Spike said, concerned.

“Listen naked boy,” Faith said and Spike glared at her. “Can you give us a sex? I mean sec?”

Spike nodded dumbly from his spot on the couch, his pants covering his crotch. He was focused on Buffy, clearly worried.

Faith took Buffy’s arm and practically ran up the stairs, leading her to the bedroom.

Buffy wrenched back, shaking her head, horrified. “He’ll know!”

“Buffy—“

“Guest room,” Buffy declared and stumbled into the cream room, tripping over the blanket.

“B—what happened?” Faith asked softly.

“You don’t hate me do you?” Buffy asked through her tears.

“Buffy, no, I don’t – I knew it would happen sooner or later. I knew you liked him and he liked you.”

“B-but I didn’t know that this,” a deep shuddering breath, “was going to happen.” She shook her head emphatically, “I didn’t plan on it, I didn’t know. It just happened and – and—“

“Buffy, stop!”

“What?” Buffy asked, clearly trying to hold back more tears.

“Buffy, I’m not Doyle.”

A sob shuddered through Buffy and she nodded, “I know.”

“You don’t have to confess to me. I . . . I kind of knew it was going to happen. I knew I’d come over one day and he’d be here.”

“You did?” Buffy asked, her eyes widening.

Faith nodded, “I did.”

“H—how?”

Her surrogate sister shrugged. “Just a feeling I had. After that talk we had yesterday, I said to myself ‘Spike is gonna be here soon’. I just didn’t expect to see so so much of him.”

Through her tears, Buffy giggled. Sitting down on the guest room bed, she wiped at her tears with the edge of the blanket wrapped around her. “Somehow it’s like he knows now, you know?”

“Doyle?”

Buffy nodded.

“Because I know?” Faith asked, sitting next to her.

“Yeah. I’m not quite sure how that works, but that’s what it feels like.”

“Maybe you should have waited until you were, I don’t know, really ready to engage in a relationship before—“

“We’re not in a relationship,” Buffy said quickly. “We’re just . . . just—“

“Sleeping together naked?”

“--having sex."

“Buffy . . . that’s not you.”

“How do you know?” Buffy asked, indignantly.

“Because I just know. And with all the guilt you feel right now because of Doyle – well, Buffy, I think you feel something for this guy. I think that’s the reason why you’re so upset right now. You can almost justify ‘just having sex’. It’s quite another to justify having feelings for someone else.”

“What if he –What if he hates me?” Buffy asked mournfully, her eyes welling up in fresh tears.

“Doyle? Hate you?” Faith asked as if Buffy had lost her mind.

Buffy nodded.

“Never,” Faith assured her resolutely and wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close, offering her comfort. “Buffy . . . Doyle would want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your life alone. Even when part of me feels I need to defend him against men sniffing around you, even I know he’d want you to find happiness.”

“Do you think he’d like Spike?”

Faith chuckled, “I think he’d make fun of that nickname of his. But yeah,” she nodded, “I think he’d like him. I think he’d like that he brought a smile to your face. You know how Doyle loved to see you smile.”

Buffy nodded, tears escaping her that she could not control. “Yeah, and he was always good at making me smile. I just – I wish there was a way to tell him, you know? A way to tell him, and a way to know that he was okay with it.”

“Well,” Faith began thoughtfully, “There is a way to tell him.”

“How?”

“We could go see him. Visit his grave and talk to him. I’ll come with you if you want.”

Buffy sniffed. “I’d like that.”

“Maybe you could introduce Spike to him?”

Buffy shook her head, “Telling him is one thing, introducing is quite another. I’m not ready for that yet. Spike might not even be here next week.”

“I think he will be. The bastard.”

“Yeah, well . . . nothing is certain in this life Faithy.”

“I think the one thing you can be certain of is Spike. In the short time I’ve known the guy, he doesn’t strike me as the love em’ and leave em’ type. If he were, well—“ she waggled her brows and smirked knowingly.

“Faith!”

Faith laughed, “Knew I could get a rise out of you.”

“And what exactly do you base it on, huh? The fact that he pursued me while he was still with Anya?”

“Wait. Is he still with her now? If he is, I’ll rip his fucking—“

“He’s not. And if he were, what does that say about me? Hell, I kissed him while he was dating her. ”

“Wow, I’m really out of the loop on this. He break up with her for you?”

“He did.”

“What does that tell you?”

“I’m afraid of what that tells me.”

“Does Anya know?”

“No, she doesn’t. Seems like there’s so much work involved . . . maybe it’s not right,” Buffy said on a sigh. “Should it be this much work?”

“That’s your fear talkin’.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“You know, I forgot he was with her.”

“You did?” Buffy asked, incredulous. “How? You were here the whole day with him at the party. She was hanging all over him—“

“Exactly. She was hanging all over him. Not the other way around. You know what I saw? I saw him watching you.” She took a deep breath. “I have a confession to make.”

“You told him to back off?”

“How’d you know?”

“He pretty much told me. Well, he asked me if the reason I had you come with us that day we were running errands is because I felt uncomfortable with him. He mentioned you had said something to him, though I didn’t know exactly what.” Rubbing her head, Buffy sighed heavily, “God, everything has just . . . spiraled.”

“I think that’s what’s supposed to happen. Buffy, you remember when you started dating Doyle? You guys were married within a year—“

Buffy shook her head, “Not the same, Faith,” Buffy said sternly. “Doyle and Spike are completely different. It’s not the same.”

“Whoa, calm down there, killer.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just . . . I’m a mess.”

“But you like him a lot, don’t you?”

“I do. I just don’t know how to measure ‘a lot’.”

“You have time, Buffy. You don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

“I know. Spike said the same thing, pretty much.”

“He just gained a point.”

Buffy smiled, “So, you’d come with me? To talk to your brother?”

“As long as you need me, babe, I’m there.”

“Could you stay for dinner? Spike got us steak, but I could really go for –“

“Please say pizza.”

Buffy smiled, “Yeah, pizza. Maybe you could get to know him a little more? It’d mean a lot to me if you did.”

“Only if I can tease him about his ‘dangly bits’.”

Buffy laughed, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

**********************

Spike was pacing. Part of him thought maybe he should go and give Buffy and Faith some space. The other part of him thought he should stay and see it through. See what through though exactly? He asked himself.

Having Faith come in on them was some sort of turning point, he knew that much. The girl after all, was Doyle’s sister. Having her know was probably even bigger than Anya knowing. Spike knew that as much guilt Buffy felt over Anya, it was nothing compared to what she felt for Doyle.

This, he knew, was big. And if Faith was unsupportive in any way, well . . . he didn’t want to think about the ‘Well’. The ‘well’ could have him out on his ass and Buffyless.

“No, no, no,” he moaned.

“Spike?”

His head whipped around and he watched, breath held, as Faith walked in the kitchen and went for the glasses.

He stared at her, waiting. Was Faith down here to tell him to go? Was Buffy up there waiting for him to go because she couldn’t face him?

Faith turned the faucet on, the sound startling Spike. His mouth was going dry.

Faith turned, leaning her rump against the sink and took a long sip of her water. She smirked, “Buffy will be down in a minute. She’s getting dressed.”

A wave of relief flooded him for half a second and then he tensed again. “Is she --?”

“Republican? No, she’s a Democrat. That going to be a problem?”

He glared at her.

Faith laughed, “You are fun. She’s changing and she’s okay. You’re not getting the boot if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Spike was torn between heaving a sigh of relief and keeping his defenses up in case Faith had something to say about it.

“It’s all right, I know you’re relieved,” Faith said, smirking at him.

Spike heaved that sigh just as Buffy came strolling in – this time in pants. She smiled at Spike. “Did Faith tell you?”

“Tell me . . . what?”

“I invited her for dinner. You think we could put those steaks away for another day and maybe get a pizza?”

Spike smiled, there was going to be ‘another day’, and, this is no way felt as she were shielding herself from him with Faith. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Reaching for the pizza menu on top of the fridge, Buffy plopped it down in the middle of the island counter. “So, what do we want?”

Faith and Spike stood on either side of her, and Spike resisted the urge to jump up and down for joy when Buffy casually wrapped an arm about his waist as the three of them studied the menu and chatted about what to get.
 

“Buffy?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

Cuddling her closer to him as they half- watched a movie, Spike pressed a kiss to Buffy’s forehead. “For letting me stay. For not kicking me out. For not making Faith your guardian tonight.”

Nestling her head back against him, she wrapped an arm across his middle. “She was a hurdle bigger than Anya.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to visit Doyle’s grave,” she told him softly. “Talk to him.”

“Tell him about me?”

“Yes.”

“Can I meet him sometime, Buffy?” Spike asked cautiously, not sure how she’d react to that request.

“Yes, I’d like that. Sometime.”

“You know what I’ve never seen?”

“What?”

“A picture of him.”

Buffy sighed, “Ah yes. The great picture embargo. It was Anya’s idea to get rid of memento’s. She had this whole ‘out of sight, out of mind’ idea. She was tired of finding me poring over pictures of him and balling my eyes out. Much like the day you met me.”

“I don’t agree with her on that completely,” Spike said, slightly annoyed. “You shouldn’t put him away as if you’re trying to forget, as if he never existed.”

“I don’t think that’s what she meant, Spike—“

“I know, I know. She has your best intentions at heart and all that, but . . . but it makes it harder when you don’t have those things there to remind you. It’s not dealing with your grief but rather trying to shove it away from you as if it isn’t there.”

“I have a picture of him on my nightstand,” she told him softly.

“You do?”

She nodded.

“Could I—could I see him?”

Sitting up, she looked at him. “You really want to?”

“I showed you my parents, didn’t I? That was important to me. I never showed Anya my parents.”

“What exactly did you and Anya do besides . . . fornicate?”

Spike grimaced.

“What’s that look for?” she teased.

“I just . . . Buffy … since I’ve met you it’s hard for me to even conceive of there having been other women before you. It’s like . . . you were always there and those others were just. . . just there to pass the time until I could get to you.”

She smiled softly, “That’s very sweet.” She furrowed her brow, “Sort of mean for the others – including my best friend, but okay.”

“It doesn’t scare you?”

“A little, but not in the way you think.”

“In what way then?”

“In the way that I’m afraid to hurt you because I can’t say the same.”

He nodded, looking down and shrugging slightly. “Well, you had a whole other life before. You were married and you loved your husband.”

“I still love him, Spike.” She took a deep breath. “I just need you to know, to understand, that no matter how this progresses, a part of me will always love Doyle and a part of me will always belong to him. Can you understand that? Accept that?”

“I’m not going to lie to you and say enthusiastically that yes, I accept that whole – heartedly and like it, but at the same time I know it’s realistic that a part of you will always love him and belong to him. It’s not realistic to say that a part of you won’t still love him. He was a major part of your life. So, yes, I understand it. It’s not something I can control and I don’t want to do that to you, Buffy. It wouldn’t be fair, would it? It’d be like saying that my aunt and uncle have replaced my parents and that to me; they’re my parents and always have been. It’s just not true. As much as I love my aunt and uncle, as much as I appreciate everything they’ve done for me, there isn’t a moment that goes by where I don’t wish my parents were still alive.”

Reaching out, she cupped the side of his face, “You’re pretty amazing you know that?”

He blushed, surprising them both. “Nah, I’m nothing that special,” he said, shrugging off her words.

“How can you say that? Spike, you lost your parents at fourteen, you had a heart transplant and survived – you’re kind and you’re caring and sometimes I forget how old you are. You’re wise beyond your years. Hell, you’re wise beyond my years. Not many men would want to take me on. Unless they’re Riley Finn--”

Spike growled at the mention of ‘Captain Cardboard’s’ name and she grinned.

“—But you,” she continued, “You are here and you haven’t given up. You won’t let me give up. You have the biggest heart –“

“It’s not my heart,” he said softly.

“Yes, it is. It is your heart. It was meant for you, as sad as that is for the ones that lost their loved one in order for you to get it. Doyle used to tell me that everyone has a purpose no matter how long or how short their life was. And that when their purpose has been served, it’s time for them to move on.”

Spike cocked his head to the side, “Do you believe that?”

“No,” she said and let out a short laugh, “Well, I did at one point. Then he died and I didn’t see how he was finished with his purpose. He had so much more to give and –“ she shook her head and broke off. “I lost a lot of my faith in a lot of things after he died. And, after what you told me about your heart transplant, and knowing how I feel so connected to you, like I can tell you anything, I think you’re slowly restoring my faith in things again; in life and living. I just . . . try to resist it sometimes.”

Spike’s eyes were shining and he looked away from her. “Woman . . . you . . . “

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered. “This is the second time today you’ve nearly made me cry.”

“I’m sorry—“

“No, don’t be sorry. Don’t be sorry for that.” He looked at her and wiped at his eyes. “You heal me. It’s a good thing. I’ve spent so much time feeling broken somehow, and I myself have tried to shove it away. Tried to pretend that I didn’t care and that I was fine and just living my life, but until I met you, I never realized how I wasn’t truly living. I would think how I had a life to live and goals to meet and all that, but I never let anyone get close to me. Always kept people at a distance – even my aunt and uncle to some extent—and now . . . You –“ He shook his head. “You wormed your way in. I don’t know how you did it so fast and effortlessly, but you did and I can’t imagine –“ he cut himself off and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against him, burying his face in her neck.

Buffy felt moved. That was the only way to describe it. Her heart swelled with something she couldn’t quite name, but she knew she felt it for the man holding her in his arms.

“Maybe it took two broken souls together to heal?” she suggested lightly.

He pulled back and searched her face. “Riley was broken in some way – do you think he would have sufficed?”

“No, I don’t,” she admitted softly.

He nodded and leaned in, kissing her softly. “It took you, and it took me.”

“Yes,” she whispered in agreement.

They stared at each other for a long moment, thinking of the day they’d first met and had those moments of understanding pass through them; those moments of communicating without words.

Finally, kissing him softly, Buffy whispered, “I’ll get the picture of Doyle.”
 

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