Speedway (continued)
Chapter 28
The next morning Giles was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his morning coffee and reading the newspaper, when he heard the front door open. He stayed where he was, heart hammering in his chest as the sound of footsteps approached.
"Dad?" Spike's voice drifted to him, and Rupert turned his head to look at his son.
"Will." The older man folded the newspaper and set it down on the table. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" Spike stared down at his father, his nerves jumping under his skin. He didn't know how to bring this up, so he took the out his father offered him.
"Yeah. I'll get it," he said, when Rupert moved to get up. Giles looked at the blonde move around the kitchen. His jeans were finally starting to fit him again, only slightly baggy now. The black button down hung open over a white t-shirt, the color contrasting with his bright hair, and tanned skin. He could see the boy's nervousness, and decided to wait for him to start.
Spike turned and clutched the warm mug in his hand, staring down at the dark brew in his cup.
"I'm sorry about just barging in last night," he started, scowling into his cup. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, then shut it again when nothing came out. Giles took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair to clean them with the hem of his shirt. He had taken the day off, on the off chance that Spike would want to come by, and he was dressed casually, in a t-shirt and jeans.
"That's alright, Will. I wish that you had been just a little more patient. I was coming out." Spike nodded, his eyes shooting to his father's for a brief second, before returning to his contemplation of his coffee.
"I'm also sorry about storming out. I was a little surprised."
"I know. It's my fault, I should have told you. I was apprehensive about how you would react."
"I guess I didn't ease your fears," Spike said with a chuckle. He sobered pretty quickly. "I'm sorry."
"I realize that this is difficult for you. To tell the truth, it's a little difficult for me. I loved Rosemary, with every beat of my heart. I never even thought that anyone else would come close to her."
"Does she?" Spike looked up at his father then, a tight smile on his face. "Come close to Mum?" Giles saw the insecurity in his son's face.
"Will, there is no one who can compare to your mother. She was a beautiful person, inside and out. Anya is also a wonderful person. She's different from your mother, which makes comparing the two of them unfair."
"I suppose," Spike agreed. "I want you to be happy, Dad. And if she does it for you, good." Giles smiled, replaced his glasses and stood.
"I don't know what's going to happen with Anya. I just know that it feels right. And I haven't felt that in a long time," Rupert said, walking over to his son. The two looked at each other, a new respect forming between the two.
"I love you, Dad." Tears pricked behind the older man's eyes at the rare and unexpected admission.
"I love you, too, William. There has never been a day that I haven't been proud of you. Even when you were going through that rough time, right after Rosemary left us. You have always been the bright spot in my life." Spike's face twisted with the emotion those words elicited in him. He tilted his head to the side, fighting his own tears.
"Sorry for being such a brat." He didn't specify which time, but Rupert had a pretty good idea.
"It's a character flaw that I've grown accustomed to overlooking. Your mother had that nasty trait as well." A snort of laughter erupted from Spike at that. Giles flashed a wicked grin, a teasing light shining in his eyes.
"You going to Mark's party?"
"I was invited, but I don't know. All those young people." A scarred brow shot up at that.
"You're robbing the cradle and you're worried about a bunch of twenty somethings at a party?" Giles glared at him before turning away to sit back down.
"Nice to know that being a brat isn't the only thing you inherited from your mother. You got her smart mouth, too." Spike grinned wide, wagging his eyebrows. "I'll try to go. I believe Anya was invited as well."
"That would figure. The girls are probably trying to play matchmaker again." The look that crossed his father's face had him chuckling. "What're you worried about? Your match has already been made. Without help, apparently."
"Bloody well didn't need help getting your mother, and sure as hell don't need help getting anyone else," Giles sniffed, in an almost prim manner.
"That's because Mum pretty much dragged you to bed and kept you there until you said you'd marry her," Spike teased, eyes shining at the red tinge that touched the older man's face.
"The things that come out of your mouth."
"I caught you in bed with a woman last night, Dad. I'd say that shoots modesty right out the window." Giles started chuckling at that, despite the blush that darkened even further on his cheeks.
"Yes, I suppose it does. But, enough about me. How are things with Buffy?" Spike's smile turned into a scowl, and he swirled the remnants of his coffee in his cup. "That well, hm?"
"I dunno, really. One minute, everything seems fine, and we're heading down the same road. The next minute, she takes a sharp turn and starts avoiding me. Last night was the first time I'd seen her since Saturday."
"You saw her last night? Before or after you left here?"
"After." Rupert nodded absently, pleased that she was there for him.
"Over the last few years, Buffy has become like a daughter to me. All of them have started to seem like my other children, and it pains me to see any of them hurting. When you left, and didn't try to keep in touch with her, it hurt her badly. Then, when her mother died, and she knew that you were here, and you didn't try to contact her. Well, it nearly did her in. She was incapacitated for two days afterwards, and according to Willow, grieving for more than just her mother." Guilt slammed into Spike with these words.
"I did see her," he admitted quietly. He had never meant for his presence to hurt her. He'd just needed to see her, touch her, taste her. Anything to help her through the pain. He hadn't thought that he had just caused her more.
"What?"
"I did see her," he repeated, looking into his father's eyes. Giles looked confused, his brows nearly meeting over the bridge of his nose.
"You did?"
"Yeah. Afterwards, when everybody was gone. I went to see her."
"Did anything happen?" The look on Spike's face told Giles everything he needed to know, and he sighed heavily. "So, you left her twice?" The blonde nodded, turning away to put his mug in the sink. "I must say, I'm disappointed."
"Why?" came the sharp response.
"Will, you and Buffy have spent an awful lot of time trying to forget each other. Every time you come together, it's like watching two moths going towards the same flame. It just depends on which one is going to get there first, to see who gets burned. The first time it was you, the second time it was Buffy. When are you two going to stop? Love should not come with conditions."
"She's the one that put them on me, Dad. I got an ultimatum, 'me or the racing'. I didn't want to choose, I wanted both. She forced my hand, and it wasn't fair of her. She left me because she was afraid. I left her because she would make me choose again, and that time she would have won. And still, even knowing that, I still would have resented her, in time. Racing is what I love, it's part of who I am. It's a part she couldn't accept." Bitterness laced heavily through his words, making Giles see that Buffy wasn't the only one with issues in trust.
"I don't know what to tell you. I do know, that when I look at the two of you, the air practically sings with the force of emotion you put off. It's a shame to let pride get in the way of something like that." Spike ran a hand through his hair, tousling the spiky, curls even more.
"I just don't know what to do, Dad. I love her, so much. How do I get her back?"
"I can't tell you that, son. I'm sorry. The two of you have to decode what's more important. Fear and pride. Or each other. Don't take too long, though. Life is entirely too short." The image of Rosemary hung between them, showing them the truth of those words.
"Yeah. I need to go. Have furniture coming today. Finally get a couch to sit on." Giles nodded.
"Alright. I'll talk to you later, then?"
"I'll call you tomorrow. Oh, and the next time I come over unannounced, and you're doing something I would rather not see, lock your door," Spike said, a pleading look on his face.
"How about I put the chain on the door. I think that says 'Go away' very well," he suggested, walking his son to the door.
"Works for me. Bye Dad."
"Goodbye, Will." They exchanged a brief hug, both a little amazed at the ease in which it was done. Spike pulled away, and flashed his father a grin, before disappearing out the door. Giles walked back into the kitchen, to finish his coffee, thinking about the oddity of life.
~*~*~
"Why the hell do I always get stuck doing the shopping?" Buffy muttered to herself, throwing a loaf of bread none too gently into the cart. She glared down at the list in her hand, looking for the next item, before violently twisting her cart to head to the next aisle. "Dawn gets out of school before I do, and low and behold, she had to pass the damn store to get there. Why couldn't SHE do this, instead of calling me at work, to tell me we don't have any milk? Like I'm not tired. And I still have to get ready for Mark's party tonight." She yanked the gallon of milk out of the bin, and placed it in the cart, stubbing her high heel encased toe in the process. "Dammit," she hissed, squeezing her eyes tight against the pain. When it subsided, she went back to her shopping, cursing seventeen year old bottomless pits and their garbage disposal boyfriends with a vengeance.
If she had stopped to think about it, she would have known that it wasn't really Dawn she was mad at. Nor was it having to go grocery shopping, when all she wanted to do was go home and take a hot, bubble bath. No, she was so worked up because for the last two days Spike had been avoiding HER. She had tried not to think about it at first, when she only got his answering machine the day before. Even after the fifth time, she told herself that he must be at his dad's, or Xander's. Then, she had just happened to stop by there on her way home from work, to see if he wanted to come to dinner. He never answered the door. By the fourth phone call today, she finally admitted what he was doing. Especially after she had talked to Giles AND Xander, and had found out that he hadn't talked to either of them since Wednesday. It was Friday now.
After the night on her porch, when she had just held him for what turned into hours, she had thought that they had crossed some sort of bridge. She had finally admitted, to herself anyway, that this was exactly where she wanted to be. In his arms. Nothing else mattered. She had lived without him, and she couldn't say that she had enjoyed the experience. She thought that he had felt it too, with the way he had kissed her, ever so softly, then said goodbye, just as the street lamps were switching off to make way for the day. His eyes had burned into her, branding her. Then, he had left. Buffy had practically floated through work that day, not feeling the effects of the sleepless night, until she got home, five telephone messages playing around in her mind.
*How dare he ignore me?* she thought indignantly. Of course, she seemed to be forgetting that she had done the same thing to him, after the mall on Saturday. So caught up in her anger, she didn't realize that she had run right into the back of someone, until she heard the hostile words being flung at her.
"God dammit. Why don't you watch where the hell you're going?"
"Oh, I'm so sor. . ." The words died on her lips when she looked up and saw the face of her ex. "Angel?"
"Buffy?" Angel's eyes widened as he looked down at the tiny woman. *Damn, she looks good,* he thought, his dark eyes brushing over her navy blue skirt and white silk tee appraisingly. Buffy repressed the revolted shudder that look produced, and moved to start past him.
"Sorry," she mumbled, hoping beyond hope that she could get the hell out of the store and home without having to talk to him. She nearly groaned when she felt his hand grab her elbow.
"Hey, what's the rush? Don't have time to talk with an old flame?" Buffy turned and stared at him, a dumbfounded expression on her face.
"I really don't think we have anything to say to each other," she said, trying to turn away again.
"Oh, come on Buffy. That was a long time ago. Let bygones be bygones." He gave her a smile that reminded her of what snake oil salesmen were supposed to look like.
"I don't think so. I kind of take getting cheated on personally," she snapped, yanking her arm out of his hand and starting to move again. She huffed angrily when he fell into step next to her.
"I was young and stupid then. Didn't know what I was letting go."
"No, you didn't," she agreed, trying to walk faster. Her short legs were no match for his long gait.
"Buffy, I'm trying to apologize here. The least you can do is hear me out." Buffy snorted at that and stopped.
"You think so? YOU cheated on ME. How does that entitle you to anything from me?" She crossed her arms over her chest and waited, mentally ticking off the seconds she could wait here, until she would be REALLY late for the party. Angel looked down at the floor, and shoved his hands in his pockets. When he looked up at her again, Buffy wondered just how much practice it had taken to get just the right amount of self deprecation into his eyes.
"You're right. You don't owe me anything. I was just hoping. . ." A golden brow arched as he trailed off, his meaning clear.
"What? That we could just have a little tete a tete, like old school buddies?" Buffy stared into the face that hadn't changed in five years. Apparently his appearance wasn't the only thing that hadn't changed. Despite the clothes that seemed tailor made, and the air of success around him, he was still the same bastard he was in high school. "Get over yourself, Angel. I have better things to do." The look of outrage that crossed his face had her taking a step back, nearly tripping over her cart in the process.
"You bitch." *There he is,* she thought triumphantly. *There's the Angel we all know and hate.*
"Uh, huh. Seems you sang that song once before. Like the day I dumped your sorry ass."
"You know, all I thought was that maybe we could get a drink and talk. I didn't realize that you had turned into such a bitter little woman."
"Uh huh. There's a payphone outside, why don't you call someone who cares?" Buffy suggested, turning away to continue her shopping. She cried out when he grabbed her again, this time his grip bruising.
"You know, I heard Spike left town awhile back. What happened, did he finally get a taste of you and decide you weren't worth staying around for?" Tears burned Buffy's eyes and she tried to pull away from him again, to no avail.
"Fuck you."
"Thought you'd never ask." Buffy felt fear slam into her chest at the look in his eye.
"Let me go, or I will scream," she promised, looking around for somebody to help her. Unfortunately, they happened to be in an empty aisle.
"Come on, Buff. It's not like we're not both adults here. Let's just go find a nice motel room, and do what we've always wanted."
"Are you listening to me? I said NO." Buffy was preparing to scream, long and loud to get somebody to help her. She never got the chance. In the blink of an eye, Angel was pulled away form her, the surprise at having someone interfere getting him to let go. Buffy watched, wide eyed as Mark stepped in front of her, looking for all the world like he was going to scalp Angel at any second.
"I believe, the lady said no," he said, his voice low, and dangerous. The two men stared each other down, Mark towering over the other man by at least two inches. Angel's eyes dropped first, and he looked around Mark to glare at Buffy.
"Fine, bitch. Your loss." He then turned and started away, his body rigid with anger.
"Stay away from me, Angel," she called after him, her voice carrying to the people in the front of the store. He never answered, just stalked down the aisle and out the front doors, his cart still sitting a foot from Mark. Taking a cursory look of its contents, she saw the formula and diapers. Her face twisted in disgust at the thought of someone actually procreating with that man.
"Are you alright?" Mark asked, turning to her after making sure Angel wasn't coming back. She nodded and allowed him to pull her into his arms. He ran a soothing hand over her back before releasing her.
"What are you doing here? Not that I'm complaining, mind you," she asked with a forced smile. Angel's little swing onto attack mode unnerved her.
"Willow sent me to get more soda. She's afraid we don't have enough." The smile he gave her told her that they did have enough, Willow was just being her normal self.
"Well, yay for Willow's fear of lack of beverages." Mark chuckled at that.
"Come on. Finish your shopping. I'll walk you to the car."
"Thanks, I appreciate it. I really want to get out of here before he comes back." She pointed to the cart, indicating the baby items inside. The Indian's eyes widened at the sight, his thoughts mirroring Buffy's of a moment before.
"Alrighty then. Let's go." He placed the twelve pack he had been carrying in her cart and followed her around the store, his eyes traveling between her and the door. He decided to have a little talk with Spike later, to give him the heads up. He had a bad feeling that Angel was not one to go quietly into the night.
"Where you going, little brother?" Angel asked Connor, who was sitting on his bed, shoving his feet into his shoes. Connor looked up at his older brother and grimaced, wondering what brought on the urge for bonding. He could hear down the hall, his nephew screaming at the top of his six month old lungs, and the annoyingly nasal voice of Angel's wife, Fred, trying to soothe him. Not that Fred was a bad person, it was just her voice. He certainly didn't understand what the girl was doing with his brother.
"Out," was all Connor offered, standing to run a brush through his hair. He was supposed to meet Dawn at her house, so they could go over to Willow and Mark's together. Angel studied the younger man, trying to figure out just how it was possible they were related. Connor was smaller, quieter, and less verbal than he was. If not for the physical resemblance between the three McKenna men, Angel would swear the youngest was adopted.
"Anywhere in particular?"
"What the hell do you care?" Connor shot back, grabbing his jacket.
"Just curious. Mom says you're hanging out with Dawn, Buffy's younger sister." *So, that's what this is about,* the younger boy thought.
"So?"
"I saw Buffy today. About an hour ago." Connor just continued around his room, deciding that not encouraging Angel to speak would be the quickest way to get rid of him. "Is Dawn as much of an uptight bitch as she is?" Anger caused him to rear on his brother, his slimmer, shorter form rigid with it.
"Why don't you shut your fucking mouth?" Angel pushed away from the doorframe, advancing on him with purpose. He came to a stop in front of Connor, glaring menacingly down at him.
"Who's going to make me? You?" Connor backed off, wisely knowing he couldn't take him on. It amazed him that Angel was still as much of a bully as he was in school. Despite the obvious success he'd had, he still had to make sure everybody around him felt inferior. Even poor, quiet Fred wasn't immune to his nastier side, and she was the biggest reason he had his success. Her father owned an amusement park and resort complex that rivaled Disney's, and just by marrying her he had secured a lucrative position inside the company. Of course, it helped that Angel was actually smart, and could be charming when it suited him.
"What do you care about them anyway? You're married," Connor reminded him, grabbing his jacket off the back of his closet door. Angel smiled smugly at the boy's refusal to fight, and refused to move so he could leave the room.
"Don't really. Just didn't want to see my baby brother waste his time. After all, we are family."
"Uh huh. Don't remind me. I try daily to forget." Connor slid his arms into the denim, and glared at the man in his way. "Do you mind?"
"Oh, of course." Angel moved graciously aside, his parting shot making his brother's blood boil. "Hope she puts out easier than her sister." Angel turned to see the look on Connor's face, and was stunned by the right cross that plowed into his chin. He landed hard on the bed, his brown eyes wide and incredulous. The younger man stared down at him, blood in his eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Darla demanded, walking into the room. She took in the sight of her two sons glaring darkly at each other, and immediately decided that Connor had to be behind the trouble. "What did you do?" she snapped. Her youngest son just snorted in disgust, and turned to stomp out of the room. "Don't walk away from me." She was right behind him, reaching out a hand that he just shrugged off. He never said another word as he headed out of the house, ignoring the stunned look of Fred as he passed.
"What happened?" Fred asked, lightly bouncing the baby in her arms.
"My son, causing trouble again," Darla answered, venom dripping from her voice. With a disgusted sigh, she went back upstairs to fawn over her oldest, thinking that she should have just stopped at one child. Fred watched her go, wondering just what sort of family she had married into.
~*~*~
"Are you alright?" Willow asked Buffy as the trio walked through the door.
"I guess Mark told you." The redhead nodded, taking the bag of chips from Buffy and walking to the kitchen. Dawn and Connor moved into the apartment, talking quietly to themselves. He had shown up at their house, sullen and quiet, his body language tense. The blonde studied them for a minute before turning back to Willow. They walked into the open kitchen, the screens having been taken down to allow for more space.
"Yeah. Why didn't you call the police?"
"Because, he didn't DO anything. Just said a bunch of crap. And as long as he keeps his distance, I'm not going to stress about it. Don't want to cause Connor undue tension at home. He gets enough of it as it is." Willow nodded in agreement, pulling out a bottle of wine to pour a glass for Buffy. "Where is everybody?"
"Well, Cordy and Xander are in the guest bedroom dropping off coats. Giles and Anya should be here soon. The rest of the band is driving in tonight, Mark came in this morning. And Spike is on his way. He called to ask if I needed anything." She stifled a chuckle at the scowl that crossed Buffy's face. *Don't like getting a taste of your own medicine, do you?*
"How's Charlene doing?" Buffy asked, sipping her wine, and deliberately ignoring the reference to Spike.
"Good. I talked to her yesterday to make sure she was feeling well enough to come. She says she's full of energy and has been cleaning the house for two days straight. She figures by the time Ralph gets home, she will have effectively lost everything he owns." Buffy giggled at that.
"Poor, Ralphie."
"Ah, he'll be alright. He's so excited about the baby, he'll forgive her anything."
"Who will forgive who anything?" Xander asked, walking up behind Buffy and leaning in to kiss her cheek.
"Ralph and Charlie."
"Ah. Chips!" Xander grabbed the bowl off the counter and left the kitchen. Cordy rolled her eyes at her husband, but smiled, reaching out to accept the wine glass from Willow.
"Hope you have more chips."
"I have about five bags, with that one being set aside specifically for Xan." The three chuckled at that.
"You know, the way he eats, I don't understand how he stays so fit," Buffy wondered, watching him as he sat down to talk to Mark.
"I make sure he gets plenty of exercise," Cordy said, with a leer. They shared another laugh at that, turning to eyeball the men on the couch. "And from the looks of it, Mark gets his daily dose of exercise as well." Willow blushed the color of her hair, but didn't deny it. She remembered how they spent the morning, her face flaming even brighter.
Mark and Xander chose that moment to look up, to observe the three friends giggling like school girls.
"They're at it again," Xander said with a sigh, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, grabbing his cigarettes off the side of the couch. "You'd think they'd find something better to talk about," he said, absently. Every couple of seconds, he would glance towards the door, waiting for Spike to show up. Dawn and Connor were sitting over by the windows, deep in conversation.
"Hello all," Spike said as he breezed through the door. Xander and Mark pushed off the couch to greet him, followed by Cordy and Willow. Buffy stayed in the kitchen, watching as he shook hands with the men, kissed Cordelia, and spun Willow around in a tight hug. She didn't want to admit just how delicious he looked in a pair of black khakis and dark green, long sleeved t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up the elbows. She was mad at him, so thinking he was gorgeous right now, just wouldn't do.
When his eyes met hers, she arched a brow, and sipped her wine, hoping she looked aloof. Spike disentangled himself from the group, letting Mark know he would talk to him in a minute, then started over to her. She steadily drank her wine as he approached, feeling a little light-headed with the speed in which she was drinking. Her heart thudded against her rib cage and her palms were damp. This reaction made her scowl into her glass.
"Hello, luv. Miss me?" He gave her a sexy grin, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked down at her. He saw the angry glint in her eyes, and had to fight not to laugh.
"Oh, you were gone? I hadn't noticed," she replied, icicles dripping from her words. His grin got wider at that, and he took a step closer.
"Yeah. That's why I've got eleven phone messages, not counting the two from my Dad and Xan that said you've been looking for me." Buffy rolled her eyes and shifted her stance, lifting her glass to drain the rest.
"Where were you?"
"I had to go out of town suddenly. Didn't mean to just disappear, it was sort of unexpected."
"Anything wrong?" Concern got the better of her, and she found herself straightening.
"Not really 'wrong'. More like unfortunate. For a friend of mine, at least."
"What do you mean?"
"How about this, come home with me after the party, and I'll explain." Her eyes widened at that. She knew he was asking for so much more than a conversation. He looked down at her, expectantly, the tension between them making it suddenly hard to breathe. Wordlessly, she nodded her head. His hand snaked out and gripped her waist, pulling her to him. Neither noticed the collective quiet that had settled over their friends. They didn't hear the "YES!" that filled the air when their mouths met. All that mattered was each other, and that was enough.
"Don't do that again," she said when he pulled back. Her glare seemed forced, but he heard the hint of hurt behind her words.
"I promise. I'm sorry. Forgive me?"
"I suppose." He chuckled at that, and kissed her forehead. "I have to go talk to Mark. I'll be back," he promised. It wasn't until he was already walking away that Buffy realized what Mark was probably going to tell him. *Shit, now he's going to freak out.* She watched the three men start to talk, as Willow and Cordy made their way back to her.
"Well, it's about time," Cordy said, moving to the refrigerator to pull out the wine bottle again. She topped off hers and Willow's glasses and refilled Buffy's.
"I can't drink too much, I haven't eaten yet."
"Then you'll be nice and loose," Cordy said, adding even more to the glass. Buffy laughed, and looked between the brunette and the redhead.
"What are you trying to do, get me drunk?"
"It couldn't hurt. Helps take away the inhibitions," Willow said with a smile.
"Oh, that's good. Uninhibited Buffy. Doesn't sound like something too safe."
"For Spike anyway," Cordy murmured, eliciting another fit of giggles from the three. Suddenly, Cordy stopped laughing, and her brow furrowed. "What the hell is that, and how do you get rid of it?" Willow turned to look at what the brunette was talking about, rolling her eyes at what she saw.
"THAT is Crystal. How you get rid of it exactly, I don't know. Me and Mark have been trying to figure that out for a while now." Buffy looked over her friend's shoulder, and nearly choked on the sip of wine she was trying to take. Crystal was draped all over Johnny Lynch, her tight, short leopard print miniskirt riding up to parts unknown. She had on a cleavage revealing, body hugging, black peasant blouse and knee high boots that made her nearly as tall as the man she was with. Her long mane of black hair was caught up in a high ponytail, the ends nearly reaching her waist. Her makeup was smoky and dark, her lips blood red. Buffy detested her on sight.
"Not too obvious is she?" Buffy asked, turning up her nose, and looking back at her friends. Willow giggled, and drank some more wine.
"You have no idea. She thinks she's so slick. She's after Mark and only using good old Johnny as a springboard." Cordy and Buffy stared dumbly at the redhead.
"You know that, and you still let her into your house?" Cordy gasped. "I'd have pulled the butcher knife out by now." Willow just shrugged.
"Please, she's not worth my time. Mark tells me everything, so I have her number. She's just persistent. Almost time for a restraining order persistent."
"Does Johnny know?" Buffy asked, her eyes riveted back to the woman in question. They had come in with the other band members, who were busily talking to Xander and Mark. Spike was over by Dawn and Connor, seemingly not noticing the new arrivals yet.
"Probably. But he's such a dog, he probably doesn't care."
"You know, I feel sorry for the woman that finally lands him. She's going to have to have his penis tested for every disease known and unknown." Willow snorted, and Buffy started coughing when her drink went down the wrong way. Cordy just put on her best, 'I'm rich, and you're a peon' look, as the couple made their way over to the hostess.
"Willow, you're as beautiful as ever." The redhead rolled her eyes and turned to accept the peck on her cheek from the drummer. She really did like him, even though he was such a womanizer. He was a good guy otherwise. He'd kill the first person that tried to hurt his family, and Willow was an extension of that family. Crystal wouldn't stand a chance if he actually thought that she was a threat to them.
"Hi, Johnny. Wasn't your hair purple the last time I saw you?" He let a bark of laughter and ran a hand through his now pink hair. It was long, like Mark's, but the sides had been shaved.
"Yep. Got tired of it. Hello ladies. May I ask why those worthless men of yours are letting three such beautiful woman stand alone?" Cordy and Buffy rolled their eyes, used to Johnny's antics. He was a big flirt.
"We couldn't compare to potato chips and NASCAR talk," Cordy finally answered.
"Such a shame." Johnny shook his head sadly, then grinned hugely. Out of all the woman in the world, these were the only three, besides his grandmother and sisters, that he actually respected. Too bad they were all taken.
"Hi, Willow," Crystal chimed in, finally getting tired of being ignored.
"Crystal," Willow answered, nodding her head slightly.
"Oh, Buffy, Cordelia, this is Crystal," Johnny introduced. The girl smiled brightly, and held out a hand towards the other two. Cordy eyed the blood red talons with distaste, before finally taking it. Buffy did the same, feeling the need to run to the bathroom and scrub her hand with a brillo pad when she was done. The woman practically screamed 'groupie.'
"Nice to meet you," she lied smoothly. Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy caught the distinct movement of something white. Turning her head, she watched Spike make his way towards her, his face set in a hard mask. "Oh shit," she hissed under her breath, preparing herself for the tirade about Angel. She didn't hear Crystal's exact same utterance, too intent on the stalking male coming at her.
"We need to talk," he growled, not looking at the others. Willow and Cordy exchanged a look, and Johnny watched with avid interest. The last he knew, Buffy was with Riley. He hadn't heard anything about Spike being back in good graces with the blonde. He'd have to let Mark have it later for not keeping him in the loop. "Now."
Buffy opened her mouth to answer, but she didn't get a chance.
"Spike?!" Spike's head swivelled at the familiar, incredulous voice. He looked stunned, then panicked as recognition set in. The woman was looking at him like she could eat him up, despite being draped across Johnny, who noticed the look as well. Buffy straightened at the familiarity of the tawny eyes staring at Spike, a brow arching, and a dangerous glint flared in her eyes.
"Uh oh," Cordy and Willow said together. Willow immediately started to search out Mark, hoping to get him to diffuse whatever was about to happen. Spike was too shell shocked, and Johnny wouldn't do it. He'd be too thrilled to see the cat fight, despite the fact that they wouldn't be fighting over him. She finally caught his eye, just when Buffy started to speak.
"You know her?" she asked Spike, the sound of her angry voice drawing his eyes back to her. The blue orbs had a slightly glazed, 'oh shit' look to them.
"It was a long time ago, pet."
"Oh, not that long," Crystal purred, a sensual smile sliding over her lips.
"Johnny, why don't you show Crystal around? I'm sure she'd like the tour," Mark suggested when he reached them.
"Oh, no. Thanks," she answered, her smile never faltering as she looked down at the tiny blonde woman. Why would she want to see some stupid apartment, when she could stand here and get a little payback. Spike glared at the woman, before turning back to Buffy.
"Yeah, it was. And it's not something I like to remember," he said loud enough that Crystal heard every word. Blind fury crossed her face, and Willow decided enough was enough.
"That's it. If you don't stop with the shit, you will leave. This is Mark's birthday party, and I am NOT going to let some past indiscretion ruin it. Am I clear?" Spike, Buffy and Johnny nodded immediately, the redhead's anger not being a pretty thing. Mark hid his smirk at her take charge attitude. She was so much different from that shy girl he had met so many years ago.
Crystal, however, looked prepared to go to war. She let go of Johnny and stepped forward, pointing one, long nail in Spike's direction.
"Bastard," she hissed. He merely arched a brow at her.
"Crystal, give it a rest," Johnny told her impatiently. She turned to him, hurt crossing her face that he wasn't ready to defend her honor. He just rolled his eyes. "Now. Or you can leave, and forget my number," he threatened. She glared at him for a long minute, before relaxing.
"I'm sorry, baby," she purred, sliding back up next to him. Mark shook his head at her sudden change, and turned to walk away. He should have made sure that Johnny didn't bring the little ho. Buffy watched the scene, anger bubbling through her veins. In some, far away and remote part of her mind, she knew that she had no right getting mad about what, or who, Spike had done while they were apart. But the fact that it was a skank like Crystal, not to mention having it flung in her face at her best friend's party, was going a long way towards helping her ignore that fact.
"Sorry," Johnny murmured to Willow, brushing a kiss across her cheek. He then turned and led Crystal away. She cast several dark, nasty looks over her shoulder at Spike, who had decided to ignore her.
"Buffy," he started again, his voice gentler than before. He knew he was in big trouble, and decided to tread lightly, even though he was mad himself. If he saw Angel anytime soon, the man had better hope it wasn't while Spike was driving.
"What?" she hissed, turning to look at him. Her eyes were brilliant and green, her jaw tense. Cordy decided it was time that her husband paid attention to her, and walked over to the couch to sit with him. Willow decided leaving was prudent as well, grabbing the bottle of wine and going over to Mark. That left the two blondes staring at each other, while the rest of the group tried to pretend that the makings of a world class argument weren't standing in the kitchen.
Cordy and Willow started to talk to Charlene, Ralph's wife, about her pregnancy, while the guys talked about the band. Dawn and Connor were watching the proceedings with an interest only teenagers possessed.
"I think we need to go somewhere," Spike said, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.
"Yeah. I think you're right. This," she waved a hand between them, "gets figured out tonight." Anger was still etched in her face, and she had to force herself not to launch at Crystal as she stalked past Spike to say goodbye to Mark and Willow. Spike followed her, looking for all the world like a man walking to his hanging. Buffy said her goodbyes, and walked over to tell Dawn that Connor was not allowed in the house without her home. She then turned on her booted heel, and stormed out of the apartment.
Mark and Xander gave Spike looks of sympathetic support, while Cordy and Willow looked disappointed. Ralph was trying desperately not to laugh, his sputtering cut off by the sharp look his wife shot him. Crystal continued to glare daggers at him, and Johnny just waved when he said goodbye.
"If nobody hears from me in a day or two, could you come check on me?"
"Sure thing, bud," Xander agreed, smiling wide. Mark gave him the thumbs up. With that, Spike left the apartment, wondering if he could stop and get a drink.
Chapter 30
The car ride to Spike's place was done in a silence so thick, his teeth hurt from clenching his jaw. Buffy had stayed silent the entire car ride, her arms and legs crossed, her eyes trained out the window. In the car, he had been grateful for the silence. His vision was worse at night, and he probably would have wrecked if he'd had to deal with arguing with her, too. But now that they were here, outside his door, he was more than ready for the explosion.
Buffy breezed past him when the door swung open, blinking her eyes to adjust to the light that he had flicked on. She took a cursory look at the black denim couch and chair set they'd help him pick out, and the large, oak coffee table. A case made entirely of glass sat next to the door, his various trophies displayed within. Except for the Winston Trophy. It had it's own, specially made case that was displayed proudly on the outer kitchen wall.
As soon as she heard the soft click of the door, she reeled on him, her tiny form shaking with an irrational rage.
"You bastard," she spat, her hands curling into fists. "How could you sleep with that. . .that. . .WOMAN!?!" The last word came out as a shout, sending Spike's own temper spiraling into the stratosphere.
"Don't start that shit, Buffy. In case you forgot, we weren't together at the time." His blues eyes shot angry sparks, and he took a step towards her. "Besides, all I did was scratch an itch. YOU got ENGAGED!" Resentment that she would even consider marrying someone else suffused every word. She sucked in a breath at that, and her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. What could she say to that? "What's the matter, pet? Truth hurt?" Her eyes narrowed into slits, and she stepped forward.
"YOU left ME. TWICE! Where the hell do you get off judging me for moving on?"
"Where do get off doing the same to me? And I beg to differ, sweetheart. You left me, in a hospital room. All I did was say goodbye." Her eyes widened at that, as the truth of it struck her.
"You loved your damn racing more than me. It was always that. I was never important enough," she threw back, tears rushing to her eyes.
"You believe that if you fucking want to. I'm tired of rehashing this. I left to try to make my own way. I couldn't change for you, or anyone else, and I'm bloody well tired of trying to explain it!" Their voices were raising with each sentence they uttered, their bodies coming closer together. "You wanted me to choose, and that wasn't fair. I NEVER would have done that to you. I DIDN'T do it to you. You said you couldn't live with the danger. I didn't try to change you. Why did you have to try to change me?" The question slammed into her with the force of a train. His face was so desolate, so pain-filled, she finally realized what she had done. SHE had been the one to put the boundaries on their love. It had to be her way, or no way. He left, because she had given him no choice. Both times. "All I ever wanted was you, and my career. Was that really too much? I know you watched the races. Dad told me," he said, when her eyes shot to his at that. "You said you couldn't live with watching me risk death, but you watched the races. Why?"
"I. . .I had to," she admitted quietly, feeling the rage drain out of her, and looking down at the floor.
"Why?" he asked again, tilting her head up until she was looking at him. His eyes swirled with the storm raging in them, their blue depths almost black.
"It was the only way I could be close to you." Her voice was so quiet, he had to strain to hear her.
"No it wasn't. You could have called me, anytime. I've loved you, practically since I first saw you. The only thing holding you back was you." He dropped his hand, and walked over to the couch, sinking down into it with a sigh. He leaned his head back, and threw an arm over his eyes, digging in his pocket for a cigarette. Buffy stayed standing where she was, hands clasped in front of her, eyes on the floor, tears sliding down her cheeks. "When does this stop, Buffy? The pain. It's not supposed to hurt like this." His emotion roughened voice drifted to her, his accent thick with the pain he was talking about.
"No. It's not," she agreed, taking a deep breath, and walking over to him. How could he still love her after this? He would have taken her back, at anytime. All she'd had to do was call. What kind of man hangs on that long? The best kind, she could almost hear her mother saying to her. She had gone and gotten engaged, because Riley was safe. While she didn't like the thought of Spike sleeping with other women, especially women like Crystal, he had never been linked with anyone romantically in the press. At least not in anything she'd read, and she had found every word ever printed about him. The sudden realization that he was waiting for her struck her, leaving her stunned.
She stared down at him, her fingers itching to touch him, but too afraid to try. She had always thought that she was the injured party between them. But really, it had been him. Hesitantly, she sat down next to him, wiping her damp palms on her blue jeans. She glanced over at him, trying to figure out what to say. He still had his arm over his eyes, shielding them from her, a smoldering cigarette dangling from his lips.
"So what do we do now?" he asked, taking the cigarette from his mouth and leaning forward to flick the ashes into the black glass ashtray. She studied the rigid set of his shoulders, and reached out, her hand trembling in the air. She felt his muscles tense further when she rested her hand on his back. A deep sigh erupted from him, and he crushed his cigarette out before turning his head to look at her.
"Try again?" she said, hope flooding her voice. His eyes drifted closed for a brief instant, then opened again to pin her with a gaze full of insecurity.
"Can we? Aren't you still afraid?"
"I'm more afraid of living without you," she whispered, hazel eyes begging. "I love you, Spike. I never stopped." Fresh tears slid down her cheeks, glistening on her skin. He reached up and brushed them away, her eyes drifting closed as she turned into his touch.
"Buffy, look at me." He waited until she did, and turned more fully to her. He cupped her face between his hands, his eyes burning into hers. "If we do this again, I'm not going to let you go," he warned. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, his words causing a thrill of excitement to course through her. She didn't want him to let her go, and she didn't intend on ever letting him go. Not as long as she was breathing, anyway.
"Good," she answered, tracing a thumb across his cheek. When he leaned his head down to hers, she raised her chin to meet him. The first, soft brush of his lips across hers caused them both to sigh. The second made them moan. The third had them desperate for more. She opened for him when his tongue sought entrance, her fingers moving to fist in his hair. He nibbled, almost delicately on her mouth, before sliding his tongue inside to spar with hers once more. She kissed him back with as much passion as he gave her, her lips and tongue dueling with his, relishing his taste. Nothing had ever seemed so right as when he kissed her, touched her, and she had denied herself for five long years. Never again.
She pulled away from him, and met his questioning gaze. She smiled softly, and stood, staring down at him. His brows drew together, his confusion written on his face. Then she held out her hand, and glanced over at the stairs. Arousal darkened his eyes, and he stood in one fluid motion, taking her hand as he did so. He allowed her to lead him up the stairs, no words passing between them.
When they reached his room, she released his hand and walked over to the sleek, black dresser across from the door. There on the corner was a squat, wrought iron candle holder with three fat candles. She picked up the matches next to it and lit each one, her eyes meeting his in the mirror when she was done. He walked over to her, his gait strong and smooth. She didn't turn towards him when he reached her, just continued to watch him in the mirror. He brought up a hand to her shoulder, hooking his finger under the spaghetti strap of her tank top. He slid the string down, and brought his mouth to her shoulder. She hissed in a breath when his tongue flicked her skin, and she arched back into him, her heavy eyes never leaving the mirror. There was something dazzlingly erotic about watching him touch her like this. She suddenly understood why some people had mirrors over their beds.
His teeth nipped gently along the smooth line of her shoulder to her throat, while his hands slid under the material of her shirt to caress her stomach, his fingertips barely grazing the underside of her breasts. He expertly opened the front clasp of her bra, filling his hands with the firm flesh in the same second his mouth claimed her ear. A sharp wave of desire hit her, causing her knees to nearly buckle. Delicious tingles traveled from everywhere he touched to settle deep in the pit of her stomach. She felt his hardness nestled tight against her denim clad buttocks, and she shifted her hips to rub against him.
He growled deep, the sound echoing in her ear. She moaned in protest when one of his hands left her breast, only to change to a moan of pleasure when she felt his fingers brush the clasp to her jeans. They were undone quickly, and his hand was snaking inside, past the thin scrap of lace, to the very center of her. She reared up on her toes when he plunged two fingers into her, his thumb circling her clit.
"Oh God," she moaned, bringing a hand up to clasp his neck, to keep herself upright. His mouth was on her neck again, his blunt teeth scraping the skin, and sending delicious shivers across her nerves. She thrust her hips against his hand, her eyes never leaving the mirror. The erotic sight in the glass was almost too much, and she thrust harder. He had pushed her shirt up over her breasts, and he was teasing the nipples alternately, being careful to keep his arm from blocking her view. Their eyes met in the mirror once more, and they watched her face together as she crashed over the edge. Spike continued to pump his fingers, drawing her orgasm out until she nearly collapsed. When he tried to turn her, she shook her head. "No. I want to see," she gasped, her nerves still quivering from her climax. Spike growled against the skin of her throat, his desire heightened by her request.
With reluctance, he pulled his hand out of her pants, and started to push them down, while she kicked off her boots. Her tank top came next and she was suddenly staring at her nude form, the image of him undressing behind her causing desire to rush through her anew. He was so beautiful, lean and muscular. Sleek, like a panther. And he was hers.
She braced herself against the dresser when he pressed himself against her back, pushing back a little to invite him in. His grin flashed wickedly in the glass, his hands smoothing over her skin.
"See how beautiful you are?" he purred in her ear. "How could you think that anybody other than you would be enough for me?" His words skimmed along her senses, making her dizzy. He felt so good against her, but she needed him inside, so she could watch as he brought her over the edge again. Like only he could.
"Spike, please," she gasped, purposefully rubbing her naked rear along the pulsating heat of his shaft. Unsteadily, he reached around her to pull out a drawer, his fingers searching for the little foil packet. Impatiently, she snatched one out, and ripped it open, thrusting it back towards him. "Hurry," she begged. His hands were shaking so bad, that it took him a minute to get the condom rolled on properly. Almost as soon as it was, he gripped her hips, lifting her up and back. With one smooth stroke, he was inside, and they both called to God with the rightness of it.
Buffy threw her head back, her eyes trained on their image as he started to thrust, long and hard into her. Sweat beaded her brow, her skin was flushed rosy in the candle light, and her breasts bounced enticingly. THEY were beautiful, she told herself. This meeting, of two people so much in love, was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He watched the mirror as well, a hand slipping through her curls to the sweet spot hidden there. She started to slam harder back against him when he did this, making him thrust harder into her, and filling her completely.
"Oh, Jesus, Buffy. So sweet. So damn good. You're mine, baby. Mine," he murmured into her ear. Buffy felt herself start to fall, his words giving her the final nudge. Spike moved even faster, the feel of her fluttering around him pushing him.
"Spike, oh God, yes. I love you. Yours," Buffy screamed, slamming herself as hard as she could against him. The dual looks of exquisite agony reflecting back at them sent them flying into oblivion. They collapsed against the dresser as their climaxes tore through them, the intensity making them weak. Somehow, they managed not to upset the candles or the other objects laying haphazardly on the top. Spike's arms banded around her middle, and his tongue drew lazy circles on her skin, tasting the saltiness there. Shudders racked through them both as they calmed, their breathing coming in ragged gasps.
When he felt steady enough to walk again, he slipped gingerly out of her, the loss of him inside making her whimper in protest. With a chuckle, he gathered her up and carried her to the huge bed, placing her gingerly upon it. She watched him through slitted lids as he walked around the room, first disposing of the condom, then lighting more candles, before stopping by the dresser. He pulled out several more packets and returned to the bed, throwing them, save one, on the nightstand. She saw, amazingly, that he was hard once more. Ripping open the packet, he smiled at her. She grinned back, seductively running a hand over her body, her legs spreading invitingly. As soon as he was done, he crawled onto the bed, dipping his head to sweep his tongue along her flesh. She arched into him as he made his way up her body, her fingers tangling in his hair, and pulling him up to fuse her mouth against his.
Their tongues battled fiercely, and hands flew over flesh, relearning each other. She pulled her knees up tight against him, moaning into his mouth when she felt the tip of his shaft at her opening. At her urging, he started to push into her, agonizingly slow. When she tried to hurry him, he'd stop completely, pulling back a bit to keep her from thrusting onto him. His lips and tongue continued to tease her, making her quake beneath him. When she stopped trying to rush, he continued his slow progression, relishing the feel of her surrounding him. She tore away from his mouth, panting. They stared at each other, desire and love sizzling in the air around them. She whimpered when he finally was buried to the hilt, her nails digging almost painfully in his back.
Slowly, he pulled back, drawing it out until only the tip remained inside. Then, he slid back into her, keeping the thrusts long, slow, and deep. All she could do was hold on as he continued this delicious torture, her climax building at an impossibly leisurely rate. Each time he pushed fully in, he would twist his hips a bit, hitting her clit and that elusive spot inside her channel. She arched like a bow beneath him, her breasts rubbing against his sweat slicked chest, the friction causing them both to moan. Steadily, he began to increase his speed, never taking his eyes off of hers. Soft mewling sounds escaped her as she climbed higher, her vision going hazy as the orgasm overtook her.
Spike buried his face in her neck when he felt her clench tight around him, his control snapping. He started to pump frantically into her, a hand sliding under her to angle her up. This deeper penetration had them both nearly sobbing with pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his lean waist, holding him to her as she trembled uncontrollably beneath him, her head thrashing, his name falling from her lips. She felt his body go rigid above her when his climax slammed through him, her name interspersed with the moans.
"I love you," he gasped against her throat, collapsing on top of her.
"I love you," she returned, running her fingers lazily through the silk of his hair. They stayed like that for a long time, just content to be where they belonged.
~*~*~
"I didn't know you could cook," Buffy said, watching him as he beat eggs in a bowl. She was sitting at the island, nibbling on an apple wedge, dressed in one of Spike's shirts. He stood across from her, dressed only in a pair of jeans. They had fallen asleep for awhile, wrapped around each other. Buffy had woken up to him slowly making love to her, her orgasm hitting her almost as soon as she had opened her eyes to see him above her. Then, they had taken a leisurely bath in his huge tub, finding new and interesting things to do with soap. When Buffy's stomach had started to rumble, they climbed out and dried off, throwing on whatever they could find and heading downstairs. Buffy had called Dawn to make sure she had made it home okay, as well as make sure that Connor had gone home. She thought it was funny that before the teens got together, she had never cared how late Connor stayed.
"You never asked," he said simply, adding a bit of milk to the eggs. When he was satisfied, he poured them into the pan that was heating on the stove, giving them a quick stir before leaving them to set up. He then went to the refrigerator and pulled out a hunk of cheddar cheese and a soft drink. "Pet," he started, when he returned to the island.
"Yeah." She accepted the can from him, waiting for him to continue.
"I want you to be careful while Angel is in town. In fact, I'd feel a whole lot better if you and Dawn stayed here."
"I'm not going to get run out of my home, Spike. He's just a bully. I doubt he'll waste any more time with me, any way. He never was one who liked to work for it," she said with a snort.
"He stayed with you for quite awhile," he reminded her. She nodded, swallowing the soda she had in her mouth.
"Yes. But, I was special," her tone was sarcastic. "In other words, I was a virgin, and Angel had his mind set on being the one to relieve me of that burden." His scarred brow shot up at that. He could admit, to himself anyway, though definitely NEVER to Buffy, that he did feel a bit proud that he had been the one. But he wouldn't have cared if she hadn't been a virgin. He loved her, and their first time had been a pivotal event in their relationship, virginity or no. Of course, the magnitude of the gift she had given him that day had been near soul stealing.
"I see," was all he said, checking on the eggs. He then started to grate cheese into them, waiting a minute to let it start melting before flipping it expertly onto the plate. "I still want you to be careful. I think I'll pick you up from work next week. According to Connor, Angel will be in town that long."
"Spike, don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction?" The look he gave her told her, no, it wasn't.
"Let's just say it'll make me feel better, alright?" She nodded, really not seeing the harm in him playing chauffeur while Angel was in town.
"So, where have you been the last few days?" she asked, officially closing the Angel subject.
"Had to meet a friend in LA," he said, taking a bite of her omelet. She glared at him, and tapped his fork with hers. He just gave her a huge grin.
"A 'friend'? Who?" He sighed, and Buffy could see the worry in his eyes. Apprehension started to thread its way through her.
"Remember me telling you about Jake?" She nodded, shoving a fork full of egg into her mouth. "Well, he seems to have fallen on some tough times. He's getting a divorce and the ex is taking him for everything he's worth."
"That's too bad."
"Yeah. Well, he owned his car, the one he raced," he clarified, snagging another bite. "And he needs to liquidate everything, pretty quickly. He's hoping to give her a cash settlement."
"How's he going to keep racing?"
"He's got a new ride. Mine." She heard the bitterness lace his words, and reached out to lace her fingers with his.
"I'm sorry." Spike just shrugged a shoulder and gave her hand a squeeze. "So, what did he want from you?" Another sigh, and Buffy suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.
"He offered to sell me his car. Thought I might like to become an owner and stick it to Sheldon at Daytona."
"Did you? Buy it that is?" Spike nodded.
"Yeah. Had it towed to that same place we stored the DeSoto."
"Well, that's good, isn't it? I mean, you can still be part of the racing world." Buffy smiled at him, happy that he would still be able to be involved in something he loved.
"It's going to be a lot of work, and take a lot of money. Hopefully have it together by Thanksgiving. Was thinking about asking Xan if he wanted give being crew chief a go." Her eyes widened at that, and her smile got bigger.
"Wow. He would love that. He never says anything, but when he watches the races, you can practically see the 'what ifs' going through his mind. I mean, he never regretted marrying Cordy and having Jazz, but you know he wanted the whole package."
"I know how he feels," Spike said, his eyes burning into hers. She blushed and looked down at her plate. When she looked back up at him, he smiled, easing the tension.
"Any ideas on a driver?" He snorted at that.
"I can't afford the ones on the circuit already. Guess I'll take a look around the dirt track circuit. Give one of those blokes the same chance I got." He left out that he did, indeed, have a driver in mind. A very specific driver. But, it would take a lot, and he didn't want to start another argument if it was going to fall through. He'd tell her once he had a better idea of what was going to be involved. He wouldn't just do it, without telling her, but he needed to know how difficult it would be first.
"That would be great," she agreed, finishing off the cooling eggs. When she was done, a huge yawn overtook her. She smiled when he chuckled, fatigue finally settling over her.
"Think it's time to actually use the bed for sleep, luv," he said, putting her dish in the sink.
"Yeah. Somebody wore me out." His smug grin made her laugh.
"Come on, I'll tuck you in," he said with a leer. She shook her head and slid off of the stool. He turned the light off and followed her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, where sleep was a long time in coming.