Chapter 7

A/N: Warning: Un-consensual sex coming up.

Spike wiped his face with his hand when he heard her. He knew this was it. Slowly, he walked into the bedroom. A dim light on the nightstand illuminated the relatively large room now filled with his furniture. Buffy stood at the end of the bed with her hands on her lips looking like a pissed off angel. “Care to tell me where my furniture is?”

Spike looked directly in her eyes and saw the fire, the passion, he encountered when they first met and it turned him on. Deciding to play with her, his lips turned into a confident smirk as he came towards her. “Well, you see, love.” Flames rose high in her eyes as she bit her tongue. “My furniture couldn’t possibly fit in the other bedroom. I didn’t realize how small of a space it was, so I made an executive decision.” Inches away from her, he inhaled her scent.

“How dare you move my furniture out of my bedroom and put yours in here.” She inched towards him with her chin held high and eyes ablaze. This further embedded the idea Spike was like her father, making unilateral decisions without anyone else’s wants or needs in mind.

“Oh, pet, I tried calling you, but the gallery phone was busy.”

“That’s bullshit, William, and you know it! So what? You moved my stuff into the spare bedroom? Did you move my clothes too?” She stomped over to the closet and flung the door open, almost off its hinges. Seeing her clothes neatly hung beside his, she looked questioningly at Spike.

“Actually, that mattress was lumpier than a fat mans ass. I gave it to Goodwill.” Spike turned his back towards her so he could hide the smile trying to erupt on his face. “The bed’s big enough, we can share.” He heard her gasp of shock and could feel her ten feet away tremble with anger and indignation. Still turned away from her he added, “Anyway, for this to work your friends and my friends have to believe that we are living together…” Spike turned around to look at her. “As a couple. No one would believe that I would have a separate bedroom.”

Her mouth opened and closed several times, her brain trying to form words, but her vocal chords not cooperating. She walked over to the dresser and opening the drawers. She found her clothes and his, hidden away in the piece of furniture. Stepping back, Buffy raised her hand to her mouth, muffling her sobs that now bubbled up. Her green eyes met his and he saw her harden. Her body became rigid and he saw her emotions in her eyes become opaque. She was building a wall around her soul, never to let him in again. “I hate you, do you know that? You disgust me.”

“You know you feel it, too.” Spike stepped closer to her only to have her move away. Her fingers trembled at the end of her arm, the only indication that he was affecting her.

“You’re just like him. You don’t care about others…” Her heart hardened as she came to a realization of who William Winthrop really was. He was just playing a part when he took her out for pizza, sent her flowers, ordered food, or helped her clean up it really wasn’t him who was so thoughtful. It was just a means to get what he wanted, her.

“I care about you…” Spike answered her and tried moving closer.

“All you care about is yourself. I should have known…” She turned around from him and strode into the little bathroom, seeing his things scattered among hers. She came back into the bedroom and looked at him. “When you were kissing me…on the couch. I should have figured it out…” Distracted, Buffy looked over at the furniture. “It was trying to tell me you were like them.” Her voice dripped with hatred. Without letting Spike interrupt, she continued, “Hank, Angel, Parker, and even Riley. You all wanted something and you didn’t care if it destroyed me as long as you got it.” Anger and jealousy flared in Spike’s eyes as she talked about other men. “You don’t care if it destroys me. None of them did and you are no different. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. My subconscious was trying to tell me the whole time.”

“You were thinking of them when you kissed me?” The deceiving calmness in his voice disarmed Buffy and she nodded her head.

“You may have wiggled yourself into my life, but you never will be here.” She patted her chest near her heart.

Spike quickly strode over to her and grabbed her upper arms and shook her. “Don’t ever think of someone else when you are with me.” He smashed his mouth down onto hers. Her harsh cry didn’t even faze Spike as he mashed their mouths together harder. He felt her legs try to kick and push away from him, but it was too late, his anger consumed him and blocked his thought process. Struggling to free herself, Buffy slapped Spike across his cheek. The sting of her blow did nothing but further infuriate him.

Spike threw her body over to the bed. Buffy stumbled and hit her torso on footboard, bruising her rib cage. She fell over the mattress and started to climb across, towards the door. Spike followed her, climbing on top of her body. His knees straddled her body as he turned her onto her back. Spike grabbed her hands, pushing them above her head, holding them there. She wiggled and bucked, trying to free herself. Cries and sobs came from her mouth as Spike peppered kisses along her neck. “I know you feel it too, Buffy. Let yourself feel it.”

Buffy felt his knees pressed into her thighs, holding her still while he did as he pleased. She looked up to the ceiling, the same ceiling she looked at when she fell asleep. Tears blinded her as she felt Spike hold both her hands together with one hand. His free hand moved down her body, touching her, molesting her. He lifted his head from her neck and he watched his hand move over her breast, squeezing it. Tears rolled down her face as she moved it back and forth, hoping that one more moving part would throw him off. “Oh, baby, don’t cry. It’ll be good. We’ll be good, you’ll see.”

“Stop, please.” His head made it back to her neck, tasting the salty trails of her tears as he held her down. She felt his fingers on her shoulder and neck just before she heard him rip her blouse right off of her. There was no use in fighting, he would overcome and she would have to submit. Shutting away her heart and mind, she gave up. It was like a death wish, it was over, and she was tired of fighting. If he wanted her body, that’s what he would get, the only thing he would get. She felt like she was an observer, not really feeling anything anymore. She couldn’t feel her arms held in a punishing grip or his heavy body moving over her. Wordlessly, his mouth went down to taste her lace covered nipples. Still holding on to her arms, Spike moved down to taste her. Such a delicacy. Her pert nipple stood up through the lace material, begging for him to release them. Not paying attention to her empty eyes, his hand came down and unlatched her bra. Her arms stayed put as all his attention was directed at her chest. Fabric was pushed to the side as his mouth devoured her. Fingers made their way down to her jeans and they slowly came off. She allowed him to pose and prod her body, hoping he would be quick.

Spike had other ideas. He felt like he was worshipping her. Wanting to enjoy the whole experience, he slowed his seduction of her body, kissing and sucking on her sensitive flesh. She stopped moving and fighting him off a while ago as his hands trailed down to her waist. Glancing up at her face, he saw the vacant look in her eyes. Cursing himself at what he had done and what was about to do, Spike unbuttoned her jeans and dragged them down her legs. She would never understand, not until he showed her. They would be terrific together he just knew it. Her passion may be locked away for now, but Spike was determined to bring it out again. Smiling, his fingers ran along her bare legs, tiny goose bumps forming as he passed his skin over hers. Her body stayed still as he moved over her, taking off his own clothes, touching her, kissing her, making love to her. His fingers passed over the coarse curls at the apex of her legs. Deliberately, he pushed her legs apart, opening her up for his enjoyment. Her legs fell apart easily, letting his fingers dip down. His long index finger probed her slit, running up and down as he put more pressure on it. Dipping inside, he was amazed at the slick heat he encountered. Nudging her lips open with his thumb, he flicked her clit eliciting a betraying gasp from Buffy. Smiling, Spike dipped his head down and kissed her inner thighs. Struggling again, Buffy tried to close her legs, but between Spike’s head and his hands holding her legs apart, she couldn’t. Her breathing increased as she felt Spike probe her tender skin with his tongue. The pressure he built up inside her was ready to explode. His nose nudged her clit and she grasped the sheets, Buffy screamed as her first orgasm overwhelmed her. Breathing erratically, Buffy expected Spike to take her fully. She didn’t expect him to continue to kiss and lick at her slick opening. With one hand, holding onto her knee, he used the other to probe into her channel. She idly wondered if he could tell that she was a virgin. Breathing shallowly, she tried to lock herself away again, desperate not to take pleasure in his plundering, but she couldn’t. Her body screamed for release and she could do nothing to stop it. His fingers now caressed her inside as his mouth took up residence on her clit, sucking it into his mouth and playing with it. Buffy’s back arched as her second orgasm came and pounded her into the ground.

“See, I told you. It could be wonderful, pet. Just let it happen, I promise to make it good for you.” Spike climbed up Buffy’s sweat slicked body, positioned to fully take her. He kissed her hard on the lips, swallowing her scream as he swiftly surged into her. Breaking off from her mouth, Spike looked questioningly down at Buffy. His blue eyes were dark with lust and power as full realization of what he had done hit him. Shifting his weight, Spike sank lower into her virgin tunnel, waiting for her body to relax. There was no going back; he had taken something from her that he could never give back. Resting his forehead against hers he whispered sweet nothings, hoping his behavior did not damn him in the future. Silent tears ran from Buffy’s closed eyes as her body protested against the invasion. “Shh, kitten. Be all right. I promise. Relax, I’ll make the pain go away.”

But, her body didn’t relax. It only became tighter, as her soul protested and rallied in her mind. Opening her mouth, she let a sob out as she cried for the little girl that still held delusions of love shattered. In her mind’s eye she watched Hank lead the little girl away, and Angel lead the young teenager toward the pit of hell. She watched Parker cheer them on. Now, they were all encouraging Spike as they watch him rip the last vestige of her innocent heart away, throwing it on the ground, shredded and beaten. Crying for the little girl that she once was, Buffy’s body succumbed to the relaxation Spike talked about.

Spike started to move on top of her. She felt his hot breath on her neck, the sticky fluids that they currently shared, and his heated skin on hers. She felt him touch her clit again as he moved in and out of her channel, slick with her juices and blood. Refusing to open her eyes, she willed her body to relax, hoping Spike would finish soon. It hurt, of course, but the thing she wanted to stop was the pleasure. She felt another orgasm approach and she tried to beat it down, knowing he wanted her to give in. Spike’s head nestled in Buffy’s neck, kissing and nibbling on her skin when he felt her muscles grasp around his cock, almost strangling it. Roaring to life, Spike increased his pace, emptying his seed into her womb.

Spike collapsed on top of Buffy, still embedded in her. Slowly, he became conscious that he was crushing her and rolled off. Hearing and feeling the slight pop of his member leaving her body, she immediately curled into a ball with her back to him. Glancing down at his body, he decided to go get cleaned up. He walked naked into the bathroom and didn’t close the door, Buffy heard him use the toilet and running water.

She curled into a tighter ball when she heard the water stop and felt his presence in the room again. Spike sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at her, watching her through half hooded eyes. “Sweetheart, going to clean you up a little, kay?” Spike received no answer, but she didn’t pull away when he started to lave her lower regions with a washcloth. Finished, he threw the washcloth into the bathroom again. He climbed into the bed behind Buffy, spooning against her. His arms came around her, holding her firm to his chest as he peppered her neck and shoulders with kisses and little bites. “I didn’t know Buffy…” a few more open mouthed kisses placed on her neck, “I would have been gentler.” He felt her shudder and knew he just lost any chance of gaining access to her heart.

Chapter 8

Spike woke up with a start. He reached over the bed only to encounter cold sheets. Spike sat up and looked around the room. The sun had started to peek its golden head through the blinds of the window. He stumbled out into the living room, buck naked as he frantically searched for Buffy. Moving from room to room, Spike started to panic. Had he just pushed her over the edge? Was she gone? He went into the spare room that she used as a studio, he found a wet canvas and felt relief. She wasn’t gone. She wouldn’t have started a canvas if she were leaving. Spike went back into the living room, trying to find some clue at where Buffy had gone. Sitting next to the phone was her personal phone book flipped to the XYZ section. One entry adorned the page: Christoph Zambockwitz: special coordinator, Sunnydale Ice Rink, 555-9697. Remembering seeing her skates the previous day, Spike quickly went to the closet that Clem had found yesterday to check. They were gone. Buffy must be at the rink. Yesterday when Clem found them, he commented he had seen Buffy skate at a competition a while ago and that she was quite good.

Spike dressed rapidly in the same clothes he had worn yesterday and grabbed his car keys. He drove through an unfamiliar part of town, looking for the building that held the ice rink. Finally, finding the building, he parked and went in. Soft music piped through the speakers as Spike stepped into the arena. On the ice, Buffy gracefully glided past with one leg extended behind her. The shallow arc of her blade turned her direction. Her eyes were closed as she communed with the ice, instinctively knowing where the edge of the rink was. Her long hair floated behind her as she moved away from his position. She picked up speed to head down to the other side of the rink. She wore dark skin tight pants and purple workout top. Her skates were white with a glint of sharp steel edge underneath. Spike sat down on the bleachers as he watched her practice, unaware of his presence. Her face was flushed pink from the cold and stress of working out. He watched as she positioned herself for a salchow, landing perfectly. If she noticed his presence, she didn’t show it. She kept skating from one end of the rink to the next performing a couple different jumps and maneuvers Spike didn’t know the name of. She slowed her speed, and rested her hand on her knees as she cooled down. Twisting, Buffy relaxed her muscles as she continued to make slow laps around the rink. Over the sound system, Spike heard a cough, “Getting better, Buffy. Going to have to work on that double axle going into the salchow. I don’t think your ankle is strong enough yet, it keeps wobbling.” Buffy looked up into a lighted booth and smiled. Her teeth were bright and if Spike didn’t know better, she would look like she had no worries. But, he did know better and he knew he was the cause of one very big one. “Meet you in the weight room in fifteen.” She gave the man in the lighted booth a thumbs up and continued to slow her pace. She practiced hopping from foot to foot, changing the blade that was on the ice.

She came near to his position and suddenly said, “Aren’t you bored yet? How did you find me?” She skated away, but looked back to where he sat.

Spike got up and walked over to the small door to the rink and leaned against the wall. His hands buried deep into the pockets of his black leather duster as he watched her come back. He shrugged, “How long have you known I was here?”

Stopping a few feet out on the ice she put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side, “Well, if you were trying to hide your arrival, you didn’t succeed.”

Spike’s face broke out in a grin. “Yeah, love, I didn’t try to hide. I saw your address book opened, wasn’t very hard to figure out.” Spike stepped carefully out onto the ice, trying to come towards her. He needed to feel her, if just for one brief second. Buffy smiled flirtatiously and started to skate backwards. “Come here, pet.”

She looked around the rink making sure no one saw her and she shook her head. “I don’t think so.” It was time to take some dignity back. She pushed harder and flew back a couple more feet. Spike kept stepping closer, trying to maintain balance on the slippery floor. She watched as he struggled to come towards her. A small giggle wanted to bubble up inside her. He was on her turf and she was going to win this round.

“Please, pet. I need to touch you.” Spike started to run towards her, thinking she was playing a game. Suddenly, Spike found himself falling forward and smacking his body onto the ice. “Umph.”

Buffy cautiously skated around his prone body, far out of arms distance. Spike sat up and rubbed his forehead, watching her circle him. A little voice inside her asked, ‘how could she let him do that last night?’ She should have fought harder, longer. She should have, but she didn’t. “I hate you, you know?” The venom in her voice startled Spike. He looked at her face and saw nothing but disgust. “What you did last night… it was disgusting.”

Spike reached his hand out, wanting her to stop the dizzying motion. “Stop! I can’t talk to you while you bloody circle me like that!” Buffy stopped her movement, but stayed far away from him. Spike struggled to stand up, “Look, I… I messed up last night, right? I just lost it, Buffy. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”

Buffy’s frown deepened, “You still did, William, and I’ll never forgive you.” She started to slowly back away from him. He almost didn’t hear her say, “I’ll never forgive myself.” Turning back towards him, she said loud enough for him to hear, “I have to go weight train. Be gone when I get back.” She stepped off the ice and affixed the guard to the bottom of her skate. Spike stood out on the ice for minutes after she left, just staring after her. She had slipped through his fingers again.

~*~*~

Buffy walked slowly through the town of Sunnydale. Dawn was manning the gallery, insisting Buffy was in a bad mood and needed to go home. Buffy didn’t want to go home. Spike was at home, the bed was at home, and she didn’t want to face either one. She turned the corner, heading into a dark ally that separated two main streets of Sunnydale. Barely looking where she was going, Buffy passed a group of bikers hanging out near the backdoor to a bar. She didn’t notice when a man started to following her. She almost made it to the opening on the other side, but she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, “Where you going, doll face?”

Buffy turned around and was faced with a hulky giant standing in front of her. Standing well over six foot, he had tattoos and various piercings throughout his uncovered flesh. Wanting to gag, Buffy looked the stranger in the eye, “Home.”

She turned around and was five feet from the street, when her body flew against the brick wall. Struggling to get up, Buffy felt a fist connect with her jaw. “Think you’re better than me?” The man kicked her in her stomach. “Can’t talk to me?” He punched her again. “Next time you might want to be nicer.” The other bikers came up and pulled the man off of Buffy, telling him that was enough. The group walked back into the bar, leaving Buffy bleeding and supported by the wall.

Struggling to stand up, Buffy looked around. People didn’t even notice her or the attack. Tears ran down her face as she felt her ribs, at least one was cracked. She started to walk towards the gallery; it was only a few blocks away.

Buffy stepped into the back door into her workroom. Dawn heard her come in and came into the back. She saw the bruises and cuts on Buffy’s face. Gasping, Dawn quickly dialed Buffy’s doctor; she knew Buffy would refuse to go to the hospital. Buffy sat on her workbench, holding her ribs when the doctor came in. Dawn stayed out in the main shop as the doctor examined Buffy. The doctor started wrap up Buffy’s ribs when Spike walked into the outer gallery shop Dawn glanced up and noticed him, “Hey Nibblet, is Buffy in?”

Dawn looked at Spike and noticed the bruise on his forehead from the ice. She knew that Spike moved into Buffy’s apartment and they had a fight the first night he was there. Buffy was in too much of a bad mood for it to have gone well. Dawn also surmised that they couldn’t be in a real relationship. Buffy never lived with anyone after she moved out of Hank’s house. It just didn’t make sense that Buffy would allow a man to move in with her after a few weeks. “She’s in the back with the doctor.” Dawn watched as Spike dashed into the back of the store. She wondered if Spike was the one that beat Buffy up, but dismissed the idea as soon as it entered her mind. His fists didn’t look bruised and he looked genuinely startled when she told him about the doctor.

Whatever Spike expected when he went into the backroom, it didn’t prepare him for what he did see. Sitting on the workbench, a bruised and battered Buffy sat with an ice pack against the right side of her head. Her shirt was off, but she still had a sports bra underneath from her earlier workout. Another female stood in front of her with bandages, wrapping her torso up. He saw Buffy wince as the other woman continued to pull the bandages tighter. Spike assumed she was Buffy’s doctor. “You OK, love?” Spike stepped closer as Buffy looked at him with cold, scared eyes.

Her eyes narrowed and she mumbled over the ice pack. “Got attacked. I’m fine.” She looked away, not wanting to ruin the illusion she was supposed to create. “Nothing to worry about.” The doctor grunted with disagreement but finished wrapping up her up anyway.

Spike looked over at the doctor and knew Buffy would play her part so he stepped closer to her. Gently, he took the ice pack away from her face. Her eye was swollen shut and a deep gash below it oozed a little blood out of it. He replaced the ice, holding it to her face, “Who did this?”

Buffy looked up at him when she heard the rough tone of his voice. “I don’t know.” The doctor started to clean up the supplies and let the two talk. Buffy could tell Spike didn’t believe her, “Seriously, I don’t. One moment, I’m walking down an alley between Main and Vine, the next thing I am up against a wall.”

“Which alley?” She could feel the anger rolling off of him.

Buffy took a glance at the doctor still in the room and whispered, “The one behind Willy’s, but Spike, please, leave it be. I’m alright.”

Spike stepped closer, practically on top of her now, “Buffy, they hurt you.” She saw his jaw clenching and the steel in his eyes as he tried to reign in his anger.

“Spike, please. I don’t want to deal with it. Just got knocked around a bit…been through worse.” She gave him a pointed look, reminding her he did worse last night.

Spike stepped back; the blow of her words hit him straight in his gut. “Buffy, look love.” She sent a scathing look his way, but sat quietly because the doctor was in the room. “I care about you. Deep down here.” Spike pounded his fist into his chest. “All I see is you. I’m drowning in you, Summers.” He took her hand in his. “No one touches what is mine.” Spike looked earnestly into her eyes as the doctor left and begged her, “Please, who did this?”

Their eyes met. Tears rolled off her face as Spike gathered her up, holding her firmly against his chest, letting her cry. It broke his heart, listening to her tears of sorrow. They were like daggers through his soul. The pain on her outside didn’t even come close to the turmoil inside her. Being held in his arms felt like sweet torture. On the one hand she craved his tender, comforting touch but on the other, she was mortified that she allowed her rapist to touch her like this. His hands slowly caressed her back, encouraging her to let her pain out. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the sweet persona that Spike was sporting. Everything in his body language and eyes told volumes of his understanding. But, the nagging voice inside her head reminded her of the previous night. Buffy couldn’t help it. This man holding her was such an enigma: anger, jealousy, compassion, and possessiveness all rolled up into one man. The sobs subsided and her emotions rolled up into a ball, ready to be put away in her mind. She became aware of the low humming coming from Spike as he held her. It sounded like a sad, yet soothing, lullaby. The last of her tears rolled off her face and onto Spike’s shirt. Her breathing, still irregular, was calming down. She felt Spike shift, making it easier for him to support her weight. His hands still stroked her back. She became aware of her fingers clutching Spike’s shirt, crushing the fabric between her digits. She relaxed her hands, letting his shirt go. Buffy pulled away while she smoothed the crinkled fabric on his chest.

No words passed between the two. Spike backed away towards the front area of the gallery. A few moments later, he came back to Buffy and picked her up like a damsel in distress. He quickly strode out the back door and into the alley where he had parked his black car.

Buffy fell asleep on the way home, her energy and emotions were spent. Spike carefully carried her up to the apartment and tucked her into the bed. He quietly left the room, letting her rest. It was time for him to go into action. He’d make sure that she was safe from now on.

Chapter 9
The next day was spent in quiet reflection as the two occupants of the apartment tried to forget the previous two days. The doctor that Spike had arranged to make visits insisted on bed rest for a couple days for Buffy. Buffy wasn’t happy when the doctor told her she would not be able to put on her skates for at least a month, probably longer. Buffy’s injuries seemed pretty superficial, no bones totally broken and the bruises and cuts on her face already started to heal. Her ribs were tender and when she tried to move, they hurt, so she couldn’t really argue about the bed rest. The doctor also set up a home rehabilitation schedule for Buffy. Spike left for a short time after the doctor’s visit to grab some things to make it easier for Buffy. Buffy sat in the bedroom, filled with his furniture, fuming that she was stuck. It hurt too much to move off the bed and walk around. But, it also hurt to lay in the bed... his bed. Buffy sighed; Spike really was sweet yesterday when she got hurt. He stood by her the whole way, making sure she had everything she needed. One thing was for sure he was a possessive man. Between the sweet words and kisses and the rampage of jealousy that resulted with him raping her, Buffy didn’t know who Spike really was. She lay there, wondering who the real Spike was.

Spike came back a few minutes after he left, carrying a bag from the local pharmacy. He came into the bedroom, intruding on Buffy’s private thoughts. Setting down the bag, he showed her a pager that would allow him to move around the apartment and even the neighborhood, but still be in contact with her if she needed something. He also bought a grab bar to help her get into the bathtub, in which Buffy vehemently declined the use of and told him to take it back. Complying with her wishes, he took the bar away. He attended to her, like a new mother fussing over a newborn baby. She shooed him out of the room a couple times, only to have him trot back in a few minutes later baring some sort of peace prize either hot food, trinkets, or most importantly chocolate.

Glancing at the clock, Buffy noticed it was getting late. Her back was hurting, once again, and she picked up the pager. Buffy hadn’t used it yet, since he bought it, Spike was always hovering around the room, not giving her chance to want anything. After dinner, she made Spike leave the room so she could have some peace. Buffy assumed he was working on his computer when she heard little clicks of the keyboard. She pressed the button and heard a commotion as Spike flew through the door, looking at the room. “What’s wrong?”

The look on his face almost made Buffy laugh. His cheeks were red and his brows furrowed with worry. He crouched down a little, looking like he was going to tackle a burglar. She looked at him, realizing he might be the most attractive man that ever came into her life, and the ugliest, too. She stifled a giggle, trying not to jar her sore abdomen. “Did that thing shock you?”

Spike stood up straight, trying to calm himself down when he realized she wasn’t hurt or in danger. “Uh, no, pet. Just… are you alright?”

Buffy nodded, “Could you get me my pain pills.” Spike nodded and went into the bathroom. A minute later he came out with a glass of water and her pills. He helped her sit up and waited until she finished swallowing the pills down. He went back into the bathroom and came back with a new glass of water and her pills.

“Getting late, pet. Time to put you to bed.” Spike helped Buffy lay back down. He went back out into the living room and shut down the computer. Coming back, he had a paperback novel in his hands and started to get ready for bed, too. Buffy was amazed at the lack of shyness Spike had. He stripped down naked and put on his silk pants. Buffy tried not to star at the chiseled form, but she couldn’t help it. His butt looked like it was chiseled marble, smooth and muscular. Glancing away when he turned in her direction, her face flushed and lips pursed. He saw her looking at him through the mirror, Spike knew she would deny it if he called her out on it. He couldn’t help but chuckle inside.

Spike climbed in between the cool sheet, propped up by his pillow. He noticed after a few minutes that Buffy hadn’t fallen asleep yet. She laid flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, listening to him turn the pages of his novel. “What’s wrong, pet?” Spike was staring down at her when she turned her gaze over to him.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, “Oh, well… someone made me stay in bed all day with nothing to do… kind of not sleepy.”

Spike’s whole body shook in a chuckle. It was true he made her stay flat on the bed all day, hoping to heal her ribs a bit faster. “Want me to read to you?”

Buffy’s eyes widened with shook, she remembered Joyce reading to her when she was a child. With some consideration, Buffy raised her head to look at the book jacket, “What are you reading?”

Spike smiled and showed her the worn book. “Count of Monte Cristos, one of my favorites.”

“What’s it about? I hope not some philandering Victorian Count deflowering into young maidens.” Her eyes rolled when she thought of all those romance novels Joyce read about a strong man saving the virgin and then plundering her himself. Buffy smiled innocently and almost laughed at Spike’s reaction. She didn’t mean for her comment to mirror them.

If Spike’s eye sockets could have gotten wider, his eyeballs would have popped out of his head. “No, it’s about a man falsely accused of a crime and sent off to prison. While in prison the people who set him up become rich. His life falls apart. When he escapes, he wants revenge.”

“Does he get it?” Buffy scooted, as much as her injuries would allow.

“Here… let me start from the beginning,” Spike turned to the beginning of the book and scotted closer to Buffy, letter her rest her head on his stomach. “‘On February 24, 1815, the watchtower at Marseilles Signaled the arrival of the three-master Pharaon, coming from Smyrna, Trieste and Naples….’”

Buffy stayed awake long enough for Edmond Dantes to escape from the Château d’If. Spike put a book mark into the book at the start of the new chapter and carefully placed Buffy back onto her back. Turning off the light, Spike settled down next to Buffy, lightly clasping her warm hand into his.

A/N: The Count of Monte Cristos by Alexander Dumas is TRULY one of the best novels I have ever read (like 20 times, I don’t think that’s an exaggeration) and encourage everyone to read it.

Chapter 10
Buffy woke up in a familiar cocoon of warmth. The past two weeks seemed to fly by. Her ribs didn’t hurt much her unless she moved too fast of the wrong way. She could sleep on her side, instead of her back, a big plus, Buffy thought. Every night she would fall asleep with her head resting on Spike’s stomach, listening to Spike read to her about the devious and sometimes dubious adventures of Edmond Dantes just to wake up wrapped up in his arms. He only read a couple chapters a night, drawing out the story, but she didn’t care. It felt so natural to listen to him read. That realization made Buffy reel. She hopped up from the bed and staggered out into the living room as fast as she could. It felt natural, with Spike? That wasn’t right. She shouldn’t feel so comfortable with him, shouldn’t trust him. She regretted it last time. But the fact remained that she did feel comfortable with him and somewhere, maybe deep down, she trusted him and it scared her.

Spike walked into the living room, looking for Buffy. He was enjoying holding her warm pliant body next to his when he felt her stiffen and crawl out of the bed. She practically ran out of the room, making Spike wonder what was wrong. He gave her a minute or two alone and decided to head out after her.

She was standing next to the empty mantle; the owner of the painting came yesterday to pick up the piece. Her eyes were wide and skin pale as he watched her pace. He wondered what had her agitated but decided to let her pace out her energy. The doctor still had not given her his consent to skate or weight train and he found she had an extraordinary amount of energy. The second day after her attack, she refused to lie in bed like how he wanted her. It seemed to Spike that every time her would turn his back, she would sneak into her workroom. When he came to check on her, she was missing from the bed and he would find her standing stiffly in front of a canvas, moving the brush delicately across the canvas. Each time, he would get her back into the bed, only to have her sneak down the hall again.

A couple days ago, Spike escorted Buffy to the facility that held Joyce. Normally, Buffy would walk or grab a cab if she had a painting with her, but Spike refused to let Buffy go alone. Buffy lead the way into the facility. Spike didn’t know what to expect. On one hand this woman was Buffy’s mother, someone she respected and loved dearly. One the other hand, she married the weasel Hank and stayed with him all those years. Buffy rounded a corner and entered a room, Spike following her. In the center of the room was a single bed with a frail woman sitting up, drinking hot chocolate. She looked over at her visitors and smiled. The familial similarities were amazing. Despite the difference in age and hair color, no one would mistake the relationship of them. Buffy, without hesitation, went over to hug the diminutive woman. Her short, dark, ash blond hair hung limply, curling at the ends contrasted with the long, straight, light blond Buffy sported. The premature wrinkles
around Joyce’s face stretched as she smiled at her daughter. “Buffy, I’m so glad you came.”

Buffy smoothed down an errant hair on Joyce’s head. “It’s Thursday, isn’t it?” Buffy sat down next to her mother, holding on her hand. Buffy was thankful Joyce had not picked up on the fading bruises on Buffy’s face or her stiff gait.

“Of course, dear. Who do we have here?” Joyce’s soft eyes landed onto Spike’s white head.

“My name is William, Ms. Summers.” Spike came slowly to the bed, on the same side as Buffy. He took Joyce’s hand and kissed the thin skin.

Joyce in turn smiled brilliantly, “Call me Joyce, please.” Spike nodded and rested his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “Are you a friend of Buffy’s?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spike squeezed Buffy’s shoulder, afraid she would ruin the agreement with her mother.

“Oh, don’t ma’am me, mister.” Joyce gently scolded Spike. “Would you two like a cup of Cocoa? Or tea?”

“None for me, Mom. William?” Buffy looked at Spike for the first time since the entered the room. He saw trepidation in her eyes.

“Do you think they have some of those little marshmallows?”

Joyce’s kind eyes crinkled up as she smiled. “I believe they do.” After Joyce called the cafeteria to bring another cup of cocoa with marshmallows, Spike sat down next to Buffy, holding her hand. The gesture was not lost on Joyce and she gave Spike a knowing wink. Spike got along very well with Joyce, his seemingly natural charm wooed Buffy’s mother, having her insist he come back and see her again.

Spike chauffeured Buffy to the gallery whenever she wanted to go. He was too afraid to go into work the past week, knowing Buffy would try to walk where she wanted to go if he wasn’t there. Buffy found it incredibly funny how Spike would jump at her every whim, enjoying the faux relationship. Every once in while Buffy would remember the first night and the anger bubbled with in her. A few times Spike had caught her in the memory and ended up with his feelings on the floor, totally eviscerated by Buffy’s callus words, but knowing he deserved them.

Their life started to calm down into a routine. Spike started to go into work in the afternoon, spending the morning cuddling with Buffy, watching her paint, and making sure she was safe at the gallery. He started to bring work home to toil on at night while Buffy painted or did her rehabilitation exercises.. To Buffy’s dismay, Spike would pick her up at six from the gallery. The one time she walked home with Dawn before he came to pick her up, he virtually ripped her a new ass. She was amazed at how angry Spike was, even while they ate dinner with Dawn. Dawn was astonished at the show of concern Spike had, even though he was volleying from yelling to sulking. He finally got over it when Buffy promised to not walk home again and wait for him. She would have promised anything to get rid of the sulky Spike. Yelling and anger she could handle, but his pout was driving her crazy.

Spike took the whole day off on Thursdays to go see Joyce with Buffy. They were getting along wonderfully, even when Spike would visit Joyce without Buffy. He found that even in her weakened mental state, she was a kind woman. Even on her bad days, Spike would drink a cup of cocoa or two while he sat and held her small hand.

Life progressed for Buffy. She finally got permission to skate again. She found that her injuries and subsequent break from the ice made it a bit harder to do her jumps. She worked heavily on the weights, trying to make her legs and abdomen even stronger than before. She trained hard, starting practice at six in the morning, a fact Spike tried to talk her out of.

Days turned into weeks as the couple became more comfortable with each other and their new lives. Buffy never questioned Spike about Hank and what was happening on that end, but she did find out from her mother that Hank had retired from the company and now was living a life of leisure.

Chapter 11
Buffy found it very disconcerting that her friends had accepted Spike into her life so easily. No one had questioned the fast courtship or the fact he moved in with her. Willow and Xander instantly welcomed him into the group. She almost felt like the outsider with how easily Spike got along with everyone. Even Oz got along with him, coming over with Xander to watch sports on the big screen television. The two American men getting enamored with world “football” as the days went on. Willow came over and spent quality time with her friend, knowing that once the baby came, her time would be cut short.

As it got closer to Willow’s delivery date, Buffy started to go over to Willows while the men went over to hers. She painted a mural of a park and children playing. Willow absolutely loved it. Spike would come over to fetch Buffy after the game was done, dropping Oz off in the process and peaking into the baby’s new room.

Willow grew bigger and bigger, ending up taking maternity leave two weeks early because she couldn’t walk from the car to her office. With Spike’s transportation help, Buffy stayed most of the day with Willow, keeping her company.

Buffy was fixing Willow a fruit salad when Willow came into the kitchen with her hand over her expansive belly, panting. Buffy looked up from the cutting board and say the flushed color of the redhead’s cheeks. “Willow, what’s wrong?”

“Buffy,” pant, “I think…” more breathing, “my-water-just-broke.” Willow doubled over in pain as her labor pains hit her.

“Oh my God!” The large knife dropped to the floor as Buffy hopped up and down. “Are you sure?” Buffy twirled around, looking for something, not quite sure what.

Breathing through the pain, Willow finally felt the contraction loosen. “Yeah, kind of think that little trickel going down my leg isn't the tons of water I've had to drink.” Willow winced at the harshness of her words, but Buffy was to busy hopping up and down and looking around the counter to notice.

"Okay calm down, easy slow breaths. Okay where's the....the thing." she made gestures with her hands, "Oh the whatchmacallit. Shit, Willow the...." Willow stopped her and held up the phone.

"You mean the telephone?" Buffy stopped her impression of a dog chasing its own tail and looked at the phone in Willow’s hands.

"Yes,” Buffy looked up at the ceiling, thanking God, “Yes, the phone, okay call Oz, tell him you’re in labor and to meet us at the hospital." Willow shook her head at her friend; sometimes she could act the stereotypical blond. A few short minutes later, Buffy was running to the car, keys in hand. She hopped in and started the engine. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a license, Willow needed to get to the hospital and Super Buffy could get her there. She put the car in drive and gunned the engine, only to realize Willow was still hobbling down the walk. Buffy slammed on the brakes and put the car in reverse, coming back for Willow. Buffy hopped out, opening the passenger door for Willow, helping her get in. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Willow shot her a look that could have made Atilla the Hun piss in his pants.

"Sorry but that marathon I ran this morning took a bit out of me. Oh, my bag… it’s in the closet.” Willow looked at Buffy as she sat in the car.

Realization dawned on Buffy and she ran back into the house to grab the bag. Somehow, they made it to the hospital in one piece, despite the erratic untrained driving of Buffy.

~*~*~

Spike walked into the maternity ward, carrying a vase full of white roses for the new mom. Buffy finally called him an hour ago, letting him know about Willow and her new baby girl, Tara. Oz got to the hospital a hour before Willow actually gave birth, amazing that she went through only four hours of painful contraction to only have to push a total of three minutes before Tara popped out.

Spike walked into room 405 to encounter a vision of beauty. Sitting in a rocker, Buffy held a bundle of pink, rocking back and forth in her arms. The tiny red face peaked through the cloth and wailed when she saw his shocking white hair. Buffy shifted the bundle in her arms, quietly shushing the bundle. She looked up, smiled at Spike when she saw the flowers. She indicated for him to put them on the bedside table, next to a sleeping Willow. Spike came over to her and bent down to peer into the blanket. “Well, hello there, little poppet.”

Buffy smiled and cuddled the bundle closer, “Meet Tara Rachel.” She moved her arm down, so Tara’s face popped out more towards Spike. He looked down at the vision, Buffy smiling gently at the baby, talking in soft whispers, taking care of this miracle. Madonna and child. Tears threatened to escape Spike’s eyes as he watched the woman he was falling in love with, so far beyond the lust he first felt all those months ago. She cradled the baby back in her embrace, comforting the traumatized body as her real mother slept.

TBC

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