Speedway (continued)
Chapter 25
"Hey, Willow. How's the party planning coming?” Buffy asked, cradling the phone against her shoulder so she could pull the package of chicken out of the freezer.
"Good. Already decided on the food, ordered the cake, and have the liquor list.” Willow checked off each as she talked, proud of herself. The party was a week away, and she had scrambled to get everything ready. Mark had called her that morning and told her that the recording was going well, so he would probably be home the day before the festivities.
"That's great.”
"What's wrong?” Buffy chuckled at the question, thinking that Willow had better radar for trouble than any military branch.
"Riley and I broke up,” she said quickly, frowning at the lack of pain that statement caused. She'd spent the last year of her life with him, shouldn't she feel something other than guilt?
"Oh,” was all the redhead could come up with in response to this unexpected news. "When?"
"Two days ago,” she mumbled, wincing.
"And I'm just hearing about this NOW?” Willow gasped, the last word coming out loud enough that Buffy had to pull the phone away from her ear. "WHY?"
"I'm sorry, honey. You've just been so busy planning the party, and all, I didn't want to bother you."
"What. Ever.” Came the reply. "I am NEVER too busy to listen when something life altering happens.” Buffy felt another stab of guilt hit over hurting her friend.
"Well, just consider it payback for you not telling me about losing your virginity until almost three weeks later,” she teased, hoping to smooth things over. Silence greeted her for a second or two, making her wonder if Willow had hung up. *She couldn't be THAT mad. Could she?*
"Fine,” Willow finally said, begrudgingly. "So, what happened?” Buffy placed the chicken in the sink to defrost for dinner while she explained. "Wow. That's rough,” Willow said when she finished. Sympathy for Riley suffused her voice, and she was sad to see it end that way. Not that she didn't think that it should have ended, she just felt bad that he got hurt. "How are you doing?"
A huge sigh exploded form Buffy at the question. She moved away from the sink to slide onto one of the stools, and began to rub her tired eyes. Sleep had not been her friend recently.
"Better than I should be."
"Why do you say that?"
"Come on, Will. I was with him for a year. Shouldn't I feel. . .I dunno. Pain? How can you share your bed with someone that long, and NOT feel anything?” she implored, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Besides guilt, that is. I seem to have an abundance of that."
"Honey, don't beat yourself up. You weren't in love with him."
"And that's supposed to make it better?” Buffy asked with a harsh laugh.
"No. It's just the truth. You can't undo what's done, so there really is no use dwelling on it. He'll be okay. Some other woman will see him for the great guy he is, and snatch him up. You'll see."
"You think?” Buffy certainly hoped so.
"Yeah, I think. So. What are YOU going to do?” The blonde snorted at the predictability of the question, and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know, Will. It's not that easy."
"Why not?"
"Willow! Don't rush me. It's only been a couple of days."
"It's been longer than that, and you know it,” Willow countered. She threw the pen and paper she had been doodling on away, and slouched back into the cushions of the couch. Buffy rolled her eyes at her friend's persistence.
"You just don't quit, do you?"
"Nope. Why should I?"
"Because it's annoying. These types of decisions can't be made lightly."
"For god's sake Buffy. Quit thinking everything to death, and just do what's in your heart.” Two golden brows shot up at that.
"This coming from you? The human computer?” A disgusted snort was her answer.
"Some things don't require thought.”
"Look, Will. It was never a question of loving him,” she started to explain, getting up when she heard a knock on the door.
"I know that. We had this talk a couple of days ago. Take what you want for once, Buffy. You've been living for everyone else since he walked out that door. Live for yourself.”
"Speak of the damn devil, and he shows up on your doorstep,” Buffy mumbled, looking out the window to see who was at the door.
"What?” Willow's confused voice rang in her ear.
"Spike's here.” Buffy pulled open the door and looked at him. He was leaning against the railing, clad in blue jeans, his doc Martens, and a stonewashed blue button down that was tucked in. A smile curled his lips, and sunglasses shielded his eyes.
"He is? Let me talk to him,” Willow demanded.
"Why?” Buffy asked suspiciously. She could almost hear her friend roll her eyes.
"The party? I haven't talked to him about it yet."
"Fine.” Buffy held out the cordless to him. She saw the scarred brow pop up over the top of his sunglasses. "Willow. She wants to talk to you.” He smiled as he walked over to her and took the phone.
"Hello, Red."
"Hi Spike. What are you doing Friday?” she asked.
"Nothing as of yet. Why?” Spike followed Buffy into the house, closing the door.
"Mark's birthday."
"I'll be there. Where's Tonto been hiding himself anyway? Haven't heard from him since I got back. You either,” he admonished lightly. Willow blushed.
"Well, I thought you would want to be alone. I didn't want to bother you.”
"You're never a bother, luv,” he told her.
"Aw. Thanks. Mark's in LA. Recording snafu.”
"Ah. Alright, well, I'll see you Friday, then. Do you want to talk to Buffy again?"
"No. just tell her to call me in the morning. Oh, and Spike.."
"Yeah?"
"She's still a little gunshy. Be persistent.” Spike chuckled, his eyes burning into Buffy through the dark tint of his glasses.
"Oh, I think I can handle that."
"I know you can.” Willow's laughter bubbled through the phone.
"Bye, Red."
"Bye Spike."
"What's so funny?” Buffy demanded as soon as he hung up.
"Nothing,” Spike said innocently, pulling off the glasses and hooking them in the pocket of his shirt.
"Why don't I believe you?"
"I have no idea.” Buffy rolled her eyes and walked into the living room, sinking down into the couch with a sigh.
"So, what brings you here?” Spike moved into the room, and sat down next to her, draping his arm behind her head.
"Got something to show you. Where's Nibblet?”
"Upstairs pouting.” She snickered a little as she said it. She studied the pink nail polish that adorned her toes, trying not to get too comfortable next to him. Her body was practically screaming at her to close the distance between them.
"Why's she pouting?” She felt his fingers start to play with the ends of her loose ponytail, and had to suppress a shudder.
"I won't let her go out with Connor.”
"Connor.” The protective lilt to his voice made her smile.
"Yeah, her best friend turned boyfriend.” To say that Spike was confused was an understatement. If Dawn had a boyfriend, why the hell was she over at his father's the other night, doing her best hoover impression? "They just sorta got together. Like two days ago."
"Oh. I assume you've met this boy?” A heavy eye roll was his answer.
"Of course. You have too, I think. He was at the funeral."
"I didn't see anybody but Dad and you that day, pet.” She nearly jumped out of her skin when his warm fingers brushed over her bare shoulder. Memories of that day flooded her brain, causing her body to heat up. She struggled to stay on subject.
"Uhm, yeah. The funny thing is, he's Angel's younger brother.” The look of shocked horror that crossed his face had her giggling.
"You're letting her go out with Cro Magnum man's younger brother? Have you gone round the bend?"
"Stop it, he's nothing like Angel."
"Yeah, right. Find that hard to believe.” Spike looked ready to go find the boy, and have a little 'talk' with him.
"Well, he isn't. Do you think it was easy growing up in the over inflated shadow of Angel? That and his mother is a supreme bitch, which has not made growing up easy on the kid."
"If you say so."
"Well, I do say so.”
"Well, then, why won't you let her go out with Mr. Terrific?” His wandering fingers were now lazily rubbing the curve of her shoulder, making it very hard for Buffy to think.
"Uhm, she's grounded. For the little stunt she pulled with you, and the next day at school."
"What'd she do at school?” Buffy managed to get the story out, even though his fingers were now tracing her jawline. Spike had a hard time suppressing the chuckle that was trying to burst from his lips. He managed to swallow it when she glared up at him. "Sorry, luv. So, my little amazon. You stood up to the whelp's mother, eh? And Snyder. Impressive.”
"Yeah, I said the almighty F-word. Don't think I've ever seen the shade of red Snyder's face turned before.” He laughed out loud at that, the image in his head hysterical. He could see Snyder, with his ferengi face a brilliant shade of maroon, staring fish faced at Buffy. Served the Nazi right. Buffy joined him in his mirth, finally giving up on staying serious. "Didn't you say you had something to show me?” she reminded him.
"Yeah. Go get Nibblet, and get your shoes.”
"Uhm, Spike. I don't think Dawn is quite ready to face you. She did a pretty thorough job of humiliating herself the other night.” Spike rolled his eyes and snorted.
"Go tell her if she isn't downstairs in two minutes, ready to walk out the door, I'm coming up after her to finish off the embarrassment."
"You wouldn't.”
"Try me.” He wagged his eyebrows, his blue, blue eyes searching her face. For some reason, Buffy thought that simple sentence said a whole hell of a lot more than what he'd used it for. A blush started to creep up her neck, flushing her skin to a pretty, pink hue.
"I'll, uhm. I'll be right back.” Buffy hastily pushed herself off the couch, seeking distance. Another stroke or two of those digits on her skin, and it could get very embarrassing in here, indeed.
Spike kicked his booted feet up on the coffee table, his eyes never leaving her tiny form until she disappeared up the stairs. He was just getting ready to head up himself after he watched five minutes tick by on the clock, when he heard something resembling the sound of a herd of elephants stampeding coming down the stairs. They appeared in the doorway, hair freshly combed, and ready to leave. Buffy had slipped a sweater on over the black camisole she was wearing.
"Here we are, what's the rush?” Dawn crossed her arms over her chest, feeling her face flame even as she tried to put on a nonchalant front. Spike had decided to take it easy on her, and not mention the incident.
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?” he asked, pushing himself off the couch. "Ready?"
"Yeah. You kinda did the whole threaten with humiliation thing,” Buffy said, walking out the door he held open. Dawn followed her, with Spike in the rear. The older Summers' locked the door before they headed down the steps. They stopped dead when they realized that Spike had pulled a set of car keys out of his pocket, and was walking with purpose towards the dark blue Mustang at the end of the walk.
"Uh, Spike?” Dawn started, her eyes darting to Buffy's. He turned and looked at them, his scarred brow raised in question. Dawn couldn't seem to form the question, so she just waved with her hand, indicating the car. Buffy just stared at him with wide eyes. He looked between the two, the keys dancing in his hand as he jostled them.
"I can still drive Dawn. Only thing the law requires is those little extra mirrors.” He pointed to side mirrors, and indeed, in the corner was a tiny circular mirror.
"What do those do?” Buffy asked, starting to walk again.
"They make it so I can see the whole bloody road without turning my head all way round like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.” He was starting to get impatient now, his voice becoming clipped at their hesitation. "Xander put them on.” The car beeped when he pressed a button on the key pad, indicating the unlocking of the doors.
"How did you get your car out here?” Buffy asked as he pulled open the passenger door, trying to ease the tension in his face.
"A chum of mine was coming out this way a couple of weeks ago. Had him drive it out here, leave the keys with Xander,” he explained. Dawn slid into the back seat, sighing at the butter soft, white leather seats. Buffy got in next, pushing back her apprehension, knowing that Spike wouldn't put them in danger. She hoped.
She leaned back in the seat, forcing herself to relax. When he slid into the driver's seat, she turned and smiled at him.
"So, where are we going?”
"You'll see,” he told her cryptically, turning the key in the ignition. The powerful engine roared to life, and he put the car in gear. He carefully checked the mirrors, before smoothly pulling away from the curb. It didn't take Buffy long to fully relax. He drove as if he had no handicap at all, and she could tell he was happy to be behind the wheel of anything at this point. No unease marred his features as he navigated the streets. He was relaxed and talkative, teasing Dawn about Connor, embarrassing her more than she had thought possible. Buffy just sat and listened, comfortable with the good natured bickering they were doing. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that this was five years ago.
She stared out the window, watching as the town passed by. She noticed that he was heading towards the richer side of town, a couple of blocks from where Cordy's parents lived. She wondered again just where he was taking them.
She got her answer a few minutes later, when Spike came to a stop in front of a condominium complex. She looked over at him with question in her eyes, but he just flashed her a grin and got out of the car.
"What are we doing here?” Dawn leaned forward to ask. Spike made his way around the nose of the car to open the door for them.
"I don't know.” Buffy answered, taking his hand so he could help her from the low riding vehicle. He did the same with Dawn, then grinned at them again.
"Come on,” he said, turning and walking towards the two story wood sided structure. The girls shrugged and started after him, hurrying to catch up. He was practically dancing on the balls of his feet when they caught up to him. He held open the door for them, and instructed them to head to the right. At the end of the short hallway, they stopped in front of a door, waiting for him to open it. "Well, what do you think?” he asked when the door swung open, and he ushered them inside.
Buffy and Dawn gasped at the open space they encountered. The condo was huge, easily the same size as their house. Their footsteps echoed in the empty space as they walked across the parqueted floor.
"Is this yours?” Buffy asked, standing in the middle of the room and turning in a circle.
"Yeah. Bought it this morning. Come on, I'll give you the nickel tour.” The two girls followed him to the kitchen, both their jaws dropping at the size of it. Gleaming, silver appliances shone bright in the fading day through the window of the breakfast nook at the end. Along the left wall was the refrigerator, a long, butcher block counter, and the oven and microwave that were set into the wall. In the center was an island that had the stove top and a side for someone to sit and help, or just sit. On the right wall was the sink and dishwasher, with another long countertop. Drawers, instead of cabinets, were underneath the counters. The wood was dark, in contrast to the appliances. The overhead cabinets were also dark wood, but the centers had been removed to be replaced with etched glass.
"Wow,” Dawn breathed, feeling the sudden urge to take up cooking. Buffy was speechless, and they had only seen the kitchen! She'd probably be catatonic by the time they saw the rest.
"There's more,” he said, feeling giddy at their reactions. He hadn't meant to buy a condo, but once he had walked inside, and seen the wall of windows across from the front door, he was stuck. All he could picture in his head was Buffy, her tiny, golden form standing in front of those windows, her skin bathed in the light of the moon. "It overlooks the lake.” He directed them towards the wall, and smiled at their stunned expressions. The lake looked pristine from this distance, almost like nobody had ever been it in it before. The tall evergreens and pines surrounding it shielded it from downtown Sunnydale. "Over here is the downstairs bathroom. There's a shower in here. And a guest bedroom.” They reluctantly turned away from the window to join him under the landing, to peer into the open doors. The bathroom was somewhat small, with a black glass encased shower stall, a black porcelain sink and commode. The bedroom had the same parquet floor, and a large window on the wall opposite the door. A closet sat to the right of them.
"What's upstairs?” Dawn asked, already turning to head in that direction. The two adults followed, taking the winding staircase with quick steps. Three doors presented themselves when they got to the top landing.
"The master bedroom.” They walked inside, sighing at the hugeness of the room. A walk-in closet stood to the right of them, and the master bath stood to the left. Buffy and Dawn both sighed at the garden tub. A separate stall with the same black glass was in the corner next to the window, and the toilet and sink were also black. A linen cabinet provided privacy for the commode, and a large vanity mirror dominated the wall over the sink.
The next room was the main bath, similar to the master bath, but with just a tub, shower combo. The other bedroom was a smaller version of the master bedroom, with a door leading into the main bathroom.
"Wow, Spike. This place is gorgeous,” Dawn gushed, her young face awestruck and envious.
"Thanks."
"What are you going to do with all this room?” Spike shrugged, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one. They made their way back downstairs to stand in the living area.
"That's what I need you two for. I sold everything from my place in Charlotte. Everything cept my trophies o'course. Wanna help me fix it up?” The two Summers' women gaped at him.
"You want us to help you decorate?” Buffy asked.
"Yeah. Been told my decorating sense is an acquired taste,” he chuckled, the look on his face causing jealousy to flare hot and bright through Buffy. She could just imagine the little ho that told him that. Probably one of those plastic Barbies that hung around the racetrack trying to latch onto the winner.
"When do we start?” Dawn asked, excitement dancing in her eyes.
"Now's as good a time as any. Unless you have plans with your intended tonight,” he said, almost as an after thought. The look that crossed Buffy's face had hope flaring in his chest. His eyes jumped to her hand, noticing for the first time what was missing.
"We're not together anymore,” she said, dropping her eyes to the floor.
"Sorry to hear that.” He hoped his voice contained the right level of sorrow, and not the happiness that was singing through his soul. Buffy's eyes shot to his, 'yeah right' etched clearly on her features. Spike smiled, and shrugged a shoulder, taking a drag off his cigarette.
"Now's good,” Dawn chimed in, reminding them that she was there.
"Yeah, now's fine. Where do you want to start?” Buffy asked, shaking off the guilt for now. Shopping was about to commence, no time for bad feelings.
"Well, I think the first thing I need is a bed.” His suggestive tone was not lost on Buffy, and she blushed furiously.
"God, get a room,” Dawn huffed good naturedly, the chance to spend someone else's money, even when it wasn't on herself making her happy. Nothing perked up a bad mood quite like shopping.
"Alright then. Bedroom it is.” Buffy and Dawn looked at each other, images of bedspreads and throw pillows dancing in their heads. Spike had a moment's panic when he realized just what he had set himself up for. It passed quickly with the thought that he would get to spend the whole day with his girls. "After you.” Spike made a grand sweep of his hand, reminding both girls of a day in the mall, before life got complicated.
They filed out to got to the car, Spike making sure to lock the door as they left.
"Where to?” he asked when they were safely buckled in the Mustang.
"The Mall!” the two girls said together, the word coming out like a battle cry. Spike chuckled again, and started the car.
"The mall it is.” With ease, he pulled out into traffic, and headed towards the mall in the middle of town.
Chapter 26
About three hours, and a ridiculous amount of money later, the three decided to take a break and go get something to eat. They were now sitting at one of the tables in the eatery, listening to Spike's stories about racing life.
"So, Jake jumps out of the car, ripping off his helmet as he's walking towards me. I just watch him come. His jaw is just yapping away, calling me every name he can think of, and for Jake that's not too many," Spike said with a snicker, chomping down on a ketchup coated french fry. "He gets to me, right in my face, wantin' to know what my problem is. Didn't take too kindly to my tapping his bumper in the final lap. How was I supposed to know he'd spin out?" The look of innocence that fixed itself on his face told them he knew that it would do just that. Buffy chuckled and shook her head, lifting her drink to her lips.
"So, what'd he do?" Dawn asked. She didn't remember hearing about this, and that was a feat since her sister could probably tell you how many dents he got on his car in any race.
"He punched me. Square in the bloody jaw. Hurt like a bitch, too." Buffy's eyes widened at the cavalier way he said it. Dawn rolled her eyes at the mystery that was the male mind and took a bite of her hamburger. "Barely managed not to rip his head off. But, I contained myself, and he got fined five thousand dollars," Spike finished, grinning madly. That was the one thing he had never done. He had never gone after another driver after the race was finished. He didn't mind taking a fine for something done on the track, but he wasn't going to choke on one because he couldn't hold his temper outside of the car. "The really funny part was, after we finished packing it in for the night, he came over and took me out for a beer." Dawn snorted at that, even more mystified than she had been a minute before. Buffy had the distinct feeling that men were no better than preschoolers. One minute, they would be ready to kill each other over a toy in the sandbox. The next minute they were all smiles and hugs, proclaiming lifelong friendship.
"Hey," Dawn's young face brightened as she sat up straight to see someone over Spike's shoulder. "Connor."
"Why am I not surprised?" Buffy asked, raising a brow. Spike had spiraled in his seat to inspect the young man making his way over to the table, a spark of recognition niggling at him. He had seen the boy at the funeral, but only from a distance, and only in passing. He had been intent on only one person that day.
"What?" The teenager looked over at her sister, her eyes wide. "Are you saying I called him?"
"Are you saying you didn't? You did take an awful long time in the bathroom," Buffy reminded her. Dawn had the decency to look sheepish as Connor finally reached the table. She jumped up and rounded the table, taking his hand and turning to Spike. The blonde noticed the action, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"Spike, I would like you to meet Connor. Connor, this is Spike." Dawn made the introductions, her smile huge and bright. The two males eyed each other for long minute, and Dawn looked imploringly at her sister. Buffy sighed, and kicked Spike under the table.
"Ow," he hissed, turning to glare at her. She just pursed her lips and widened her eyes in an effort to let him know to knock it off. Spike rolled his eyes and stood, sticking a hand out towards Connor.
"Pleased to meet you," he said, shaking the boy's hand. Connor gave him a half smile, his eyes flicking between the three.
"Me too. Heard a lot about you." Spike nearly snorted, but managed to hold it in. Dawn pulled Connor around the table and ushered him into the empty chair,
"So, what are you up to tonight?" Buffy asked him, taking a sip of her drink. Connor raised a shoulder, his dark eyes glancing at Dawn.
"Nothing." Gearing herself up for the usual monosyllabic conversation she had with him, Buffy leaned forward in her seat, not noticing when Spike's fingers casually brushed against hers.
"No plans? It's Saturday," she reminded him, absently tangling her fingers with Spike's.
"No." Spike raised an eyebrow at the conversation. The fact that the boy didn't talk much didn't bother him. It was the fact that he could tell that this kid was nothing like his brother that annoyed him. He couldn't really say what gave him that feeling, either. It was just the vibe the boy put off. He had been prepared to detest the runt, and found that it wasn't going to be as easy as he had hoped.
"Not going to go see a movie, or anything?" Connor shook his head, looking at Dawn again. Dawn rolled her eyes, and looked at her sister.
"He doesn't have any plans because I'm under house arrest."
"Dawnie. . ." Buffy started, her voice holding a warning edge.
"Hey now, Nibblet. You're at the mall, aren't you? I'd hardly say that was house arrest," Spike chimed in, shifting in his seat. Why were the seats in malls so damned uncomfortable? He hadn't come across one yet that didn't numb his butt inside of five minutes.
"I know that," Dawn huffed. A smile curled Connor's lip at her petulant tone. A slight pout formed on the girl's face, and she looked ready to plead her case.
"Dawn. Don't. You're grounded." The look on Dawn's face had Spike standing and tugging Buffy to her feet, hoping to stay the argument before they kicked them out of the mall.
"Excuse us for a minute," he said, pulling Buffy along behind him.
"What are you doing?" she demanded when they came to a stop by the fountain in the middle of the eatery.
"Give a little, pet."
"What? Why? She deserved to get punished."
"I agree. But come on. They just got together. It's all new and exciting. Just for tonight. Tomorrow she can get reshackled to her bedroom."
"Spike. If I cave, how's that going to look?" She crossed her arms over her chest, and glared up at him.
"I'm not saying cave. I'm just saying change it a little. Remember when I first moved here? Dad did a good job of laying down the law, and still giving me some freedom. That's all I'm saying."
"Yeah. But you were a lot different than Dawn."
"Not really. I was going through some similar shit. Mom had just died, I was rebelling. Same thing. Be firm, not hard." Buffy couldn't say that he was wrong. Giles had snapped out of his grief, and taken charge of his son, making sure he got himself back on the right track.
"I don't know."
"Buffy, just try. If it doesn't work, I'll shackle her myself. And something tells me that boy won't let her do anything too stupid." Buffy smiled at that.
"Fine. But if she starts her shit again, I'm holding you personally responsible. Send her over here." Spike smiled and kissed her hard, turning away to return to the table before she could react. She just stayed there, staring after him, her lips tingling from the kiss.
"Dawn, go talk to your sister." The younger girl was out of her chair like a rocket, hurrying over to her stunned sister with a hopeful expression on her face. Spike looked over at Connor, studying him for a minute. "I just stuck my arse out for you two. Don't make me regret it." All the younger man did was nod, but the look on his face told Spike that he had been right. This kid seemed to know what responsibility was.
"Oh thank you!" They both turned in time to see Dawn throw her arms around Buffy in an enthusiastic hug, then pull back to hurry back to the table. "Come on. Let's go see a movie." She grabbed Connor's hand and pulled him out of the chair, pausing next to Spike to lean down and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, smiling as she stood.
"Don't screw up," he warned, chuckling as her head nodded in a flurry.
"No later than twelve, Dawn. Don't make me come looking for you."
"I won't. See you at home." The two adults watched as the two teenagers moved away, Dawn's chattering fading in the distance. Spike turned back to Buffy, and was struck dumb by the large smile on her face. She was still watching the young pair walk away, and she had an almost dreamy smile on her lips. When she turned back to Spike, her heart slammed in her chest at the open look of longing on his face. She blinked, heat racing through her veins, and rushing south. Desire nearly choked her with it's intensity. Good god, she wanted him, and she wanted him now.
"Ready, pet?" Good lord, those two words spoke volumes. Buffy swallowed heavily and nodded, her wide, hazel eyes watching him as he stood, and started to gather the bags. The furniture they had picked out would be delivered next week. "Let's go." His deep, husky voice washed over her, and Buffy had to shake herself before she stripped right there and demanded he take her in the middle of the mall.
"Yeah," was all she could come up with, and she moved past him, her mind racing a mile a minute. Spike followed, the eyes watching her full of predatory intent.
~*~*~
"Hey, baby." A large smile split Willow's face at the smooth, deep voice of her boyfriend.
"Hey, yourself." She threw the textbook she had been looking at to the side, and laid back against the pillows on her bed. "What are you doing?"
"Taking a break. I figured you'd still be up." Mark settled himself back on the couch in the studio, wishing desperately that he was at home with her, instead of here.
"Yeah, I've got a test tomorrow." She stuck out her tongue at that, and shuddered.
"You want me to let you go?"
"Absolutely not," she said firmly. "I'm going cross-eyed. That's my cue to stop." Mark chuckled, the distinctive snap-hiss of his lighter coming through the phone.
"Anything new going on?"
"Good lord. If you only knew." She quickly told him the goings on of the last few days, starting with Xander finally going home, and ending with Buffy and Riley's break up.
"Wow." Mark expelled a plume of smoke from his lungs, and kicked his feet up onto the couch. The others in the band were sprawled around the room, talking with the producer, allowing him a bit of privacy. Mark knew he had only a few minutes before Ralph, the bass player, started harping about calling his wife. "Sounds like a soap opera." Willow laughed, the sound causing the Indian's heart to swell. He missed her so damn much.
"Yeah. And Spike's on the prowl. Hopefully she won't resist too much."
"Think Dawn'll be able to see the light of day anytime soon?"
"Eventually. I think."
"Hey, Mark. Let someone else use the phone." Like clockwork, Ralph demanded his turn on the phone, his grey green eyes glaring at Mark. The dark haired man flipped him off, the gesture telling him to hold on a damn minute.
"Ralph getting impatient?" Willow asked with a chuckle.
"Yeah. You'd think that Charlene was going to explode if she didn't talk to him at the same time every night." Mark looked up as the outer door opened, and rolled his eyes. Johnny, the drummer's, newest flavor of the week walked inside, her heavily made up topaz eyes scanning the room. He managed not to squirm when that predatory gaze hit him, lingering a bit too long for his tastes.
"Well, I'm sure she misses him as much as I miss you."
"I miss you, too, baby. I better get off here. Ralph looks like he's going to do something drastic any minute."
"Alright. I love you."
"I love you, too. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay, bye."
"Bye." Mark turned off the cordless, and threw it at Ralph, flipping him off again for good measure.
"Sorry man. Charlie is pregnant," Ralph reminded him. Mark smiled and pushed himself off the couch, skirting around the woman to head to the bathroom.
"I know. Just remember, the favor had better be returned when it's me." The blonde nodded, and gave him the thumbs up, holding the phone to his ear.
A few minutes later, Mark walked out of the bathroom, running a hand through his long dark hair. He stopped when he looked up and saw her.
"Crystal," he greeted, starting to walk again. He couldn't say what it was about her that set him off, but she just screamed bad news. She was tall, and lush, her surgically enhanced curves straining against the white, baby doll tee she was wearing. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Black, spandex leggings molded to her long legs, ending in a pair of high heeled boots. A wild mane of black hair framed her angelic face, and thick, dark lashes surrounded her unusual eyes. Mark would have bet money that they were as fake as her tits. Johnny liked his women like this, since he wasn't looking for a commitment. He just couldn't believe that he was so blind to this one's obvious faults. It seemed apparent to everyone, except Johnny, that she was only using him to get to Mark. Something the Indian didn't care for in the least.
"Hi Mark." Her honeyed voice drifted over to him, making him shiver, and not in a good way. She pushed away from the wall and started towards him, her heels echoing hollowly in the hall. Her advancement on him spurred him into motion and he started towards the safety of the studio. She laid a hand on his arm as he tried to pass, her blood red nails a vivid contrast against his dark skin. "What's your hurry?"
"Gotta get back inside," was all he said, pulling his arm from her grasp. She scowled at the look of distaste that crossed his face.
"Why? They're not ready to start yet. We could have a little fun," she suggested, stepping closer. He took a step back, eyes watching her warily.
"Don't think so. Not into cheap thrills." Her eyes glittered dangerously at the slight, anger marring her beautiful face.
"You never know until you try." His eyes widened at that, incredulous that she wouldn't give up.
"Look, Crystal. You're with Johnny. And I have a very lovely lady at home, that I love. I'm not going to throw that away."
"Not asking you to. I just want to show you how much I love your music." She raised a hand to try to brush her fingers across her cheek, but he evaded her.
"Buy the album," he snapped, stalking around her and reentering the studio, the door slamming behind him. Crystal stared at the door, fury coursing through her. She never got turned down. NEVER.
"Crystal?" Johnny's purple head popped out of the studio, his dark eyes scanning the hall. Her face went from furious to smiling in the space of a second. "Hey, was wondering where you went," he said, walking down to her. Her hands slid up his chest to link behind his back, and she leaned in for a deep, wet kiss.
"Just had to use the little girls room," she told him, rubbing herself suggestively against his tall frame. He was nearly as tall as Mark, and since he was Mark's cousin, looked enough like him that Crystal could almost pretend. It was the ever changing hair color that kept her fantasy from being complete.
"Come on. We're getting ready to start again." He pulled out of her arms, and took her hand, pulling her with him. He wasn't as stupid as she thought he was. He knew what her game was. He was just enough of an asshole to take what she offered, until he got bored. Then, he would send her on her way, with strict instructions to the security people to keep her out. Nobody used him.
"Lead the way sugar," she purred, her mind swirling as she tried to think of something to get Mark where she wanted him. She usually wasn't this persistent. But Mark had become a challenge. She couldn't believe that he had turned her down for that little nothing of a redhead. She had met his girlfriend, about a month ago, when she had come up for a weekend visit. The love that had emanated from the two was enough to make Crystal want to heave. Repeatedly.
"After you," Johnny said, holding the door open for her. She smiled brightly and sashayed into the studio, ignoring the glare that Mark shot at her, and settling herself down onto the couch. She watched Mark through the glass as he strapped on his guitar, his long fingers playing over the strings in a way that made her shiver. She hadn't felt anything like this since. . .no. She wouldn't think about him. That was a long time ago, and as big of a mistake as she could have made. Of course, if she thought about it, she would've realized that she was getting herself into the same predicament. But whereas he hadn't been with the girl he was so enamored with, Mark was. And the Indian was faithful. Crystal settled herself into the cushions and watched, determination settling into her soul. He would be hers, whether she had to get him drunk to do it, or not.
~*~*~
"Thanks for helping me," Spike said, walking with Buffy to the door.
"You're welcome. Although, we only got your bedroom done."
"And the tv. That's the most important thing." Buffy rolled her eyes at that, unlocking the door. She turned to him, her heart stuttering in her chest when she realized how close he was. "A-are you going to stay there tonight?" she stammered.
"No. No bed." The way he said that word had thoughts careening around in her head. "I'll stay with Dad until they deliver it." He was closer to her now, his hand reaching out to slide around her waist.
"Spike. . I,"
"Shh," he said, pulling her against him. "S'not even worth the waste of breath." Then, his mouth closed over hers. Her hands drifted over his arms, her nails digging into his shoulders to keep her upright. He nibbled gently against her lips, teasing her until she moaned. Her tongue darted out to entice him in, and with moan of his own, he did. Arms tightened and breath became ragged as their tongues battled, electricity crackling in the air around them. Buffy pressed herself as tight against him as she could, her body aching for his touch. Spike in turn slid his hands over her body, cupping her ass to push her against the obviousness of his arousal.
Groans filled the air at the contact, and Spike started to maneuver them through the open door. He kicked it closed as soon as they were inside, his hand streaking underneath her top to possess her flesh. Buffy shuddered in his arms, arching her back towards him. Her mind was screaming that they shouldn't be doing this, that it was too soon. But her body and heart were in unison in their declaration that it had been too long.
"Oh, God," she breathed when he broke away form her mouth to nip lightly on the smooth column of her neck. He slid the sweater over her arms, kissing the new flesh as it became exposed. The camisole came off next, and Buffy couldn't even begin to say how it had happened. Then, his hands were full of her breasts, his thumbs teasing the peaks, and nothing mattered anymore. Her fingers buried themselves in his white curls, holding him to her while he suckled first one then the other nipple. She mewled desperately, the fire in her veins threatening to incinerate her.
A few seconds later, she felt the hard press of the floor against her back, wondering again how that happened. She felt her jeans being stripped from her body, and opened her eyes in time to see Spike lower his platinum head between her thighs. Her hips surged forward in anticipation, a low, guttural moan of satisfaction exploding from her when his tongue invaded her.
Spike was dizzy with need as he attacked her. He used his fingers to spread her open, his tongue sweeping from bottom to top, collecting the sweet moisture pooled there. He slid, one then two long fingers into her tight, hot channel, stroking deep while he circled the tight, bundle of nerves at the top. She thrashed beneath him, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Tension furled tight in her stomach, and sweat beaded her brow. She thrust against him, seeking release. She screamed out his name when she felt the third finger he slid into her, and she surged harder, her climax ripping through her with a force that left her breathless and quaking.
He continued his ministrations on her, drawing her orgasm out until she collapsed, exhausted on the floor. She whimpered when he pulled away from her, rising to his knees. She watched him through half closed eyes as he lifted his hand to his mouth, licking the digits clean. He evaded her reaching hands, gathering her clothes up, then scooping her up off the floor. She snuggled against him, sighing at the familiarity of his arms.
Spike smiled down at her, wincing against the pain of his erection pressed tight against his jeans. He walked into her bedroom, and laid her on the bed, tucking her in, then turning to leave.
"Spike?" He turned back to her questioning face, walking back to her and brushing a gentle kiss across her forehead.
"Not tonight. Not in the bed you shared with him." His eyes burned into her, his meaning clear. She nodded, disappointed, yet understanding. "Besides, in a couple of days I'll have a nice, big, unused bed." She blushed furiously at that, thankful for the darkness. "Goodnight, pet."
"Goodnight, Spike." He leaned down, and kissed her long and deep, leaving them both panting for more. He took one last long look at her before turning and walking out of the room. Buffy listened as he walked down the stairs, the front door opening and closing to announce his exit.
She rolled over and set her alarm for quarter to eleven, so she could wait for Dawn. Then, she slipped into the first untroubled sleep she'd had in too long to remember, a soft smile on her lips.
Chapter 27
"Hey, man. Nice digs," Xander said, impressed. "Kinda, empty, though," he observed. The only furniture in the living room was the tv, which was standing on the black, pedestal entertainment center that came with it. It was currently tuned into the Speed channel on cable, a replay of the race from Sunday being shown.
"Yeah. Waiting on the rest of the furniture to show up. Should be in the next couple of days," Spike explained, standing and pulling a red t-shirt over his head. He had been laying, sprawled out on the floor, two big pillows underneath him. "Wanna beer?"
"Sure." Xander followed him into the kitchen, letting out a low whistle at the expanse of it. "Do you even KNOW how to cook?" Spike snorted, and pulled open the refrigerator.
"Yes, I know how to cook. Kinda had to learn if I didn't want to exist on fast food," he answered, plucking two beers from behind the milk. Xander took the one held out to him and twisted off the cap, expertly landing it in the trash can. Spike leaned against the counter and did the same, his cap bouncing off the rim, before landing in the trash. "Can't wait for the rest of the stuff to get here. Kind of rough on the old back laying the floor to watch telly."
"I dunno, I kinda like it. Simplistic, yet tasteful." The blonde rolled his eyes, and took a long swallow of his beer.
"Simplistic? Yeah, but not homey." The brunette's eyes shot up at that, and he let out a chuckle.
"Homey, huh? Looking to put up chintz curtains, and lace doilies?" Spike growled at that.
"Hardly." *Unless that's what Buffy wants* He scowled at the bottle in his hand at that thought. *Ponce.*
"Uh, huh. That's what I said, once upon a time. Then I got married."
"How're you two doing, anyway? I guess by the smile, that Cordy forgave your sorry ass."
"Yeah. Threatened to cut off my parts if I left again." Spike grimaced and laughed at the same time. "She's making me go to a support group."
"Good. You need one." Xander shot him a glare, but didn't disagree.
"What about you and the Buffster? She's not here, so am I to assume that you've gotten shot down again?" A wicked smile curled Xander's face, and he just snorted at the middle finger Spike held up.
"Told you once, my friend. The ones you gotta work for are the ones that are worth it."
"Uh, huh. I didn't have to work for Cordy," the other man reminded him, drinking his beer.
"No, she had to knock you over the head with a sledge hammer to get your head out of your arse," Spike shot back, annoyed. It was true, that since the night they went to the mall, Buffy was doing a good job at making herself scarce. For the last three days, whenever he called the house, she was in the bathroom, according to Dawn. Whenever he stopped by, she was conveniently at the store. Dawn would always give him the same, half sympathetic, half smug look, before closing the door. He couldn't even begin to fathom what was going through her mind, but at this point, he was ready to show up at her work, haul her over his shoulder, and drag her back here to remind her, repeatedly, why they should be together. And it wasn't even the sex. Which was incredible. It was the way she made him feel, like he could conquer the world.
"She's scared," Xander told him, studying the miserable face of his friend.
"Wha?" Spike's eyes met his, the scarred eyebrow up in question. The brunette sighed, and settled himself more comfortably against the counter.
"You left her once. What's to stop you from doing it again?"
"You left Cordy," Spike pointed out.
"Yeah, and let me tell you, I'm paying for it. She's had me doing any and every menial task she can think of. My 'Honey Do' lists are so long, I won't have a free weekend until Jazz graduates from college."
"So what? She's making me pay?" Xander rolled his eyes, but felt a surge of delight at finally being able to give Spike advice on women.
"In a way. It's not the racing anymore. It still scares her, but that's not it. You walked away from her to pursue your career. Then again after the funeral." Xander was the only one that Spike had told about that. "So, what if you decide to do it again?"
"She knows why I left." Spike surged away from the counter, and started to pace the length of the kitchen. "I couldn't change who I was, not for her, not for my father. Not for anybody. Anymore than I would want her to change for me." Anger thrummed through his body, and it electrified the air.
"I know. And she DOES understand that. But logic doesn't work when it comes to emotions. Trust me, I know." Xander watched him as he moved, thinking the blonde resembled a tiger in a cage.
"So, what the bloody hell am I supposed to do? And how the hell do you know all this?" Spike demanded, coming to a stop in front of his friend.
"Who am I married to?"
"Cordelia."
"Who is she best friends with?" Spike rolled his eyes.
"Buffy and Willow."
"Exactly. The way they talk, you best believe that they all know the size of our equipment, and how well it works." The two shared a horrified look before Xander continued. "As to what you're supposed to do, I don't know. Women are a mystery to me." Spike nodded in agreement, staring off at a point past Xander's head, his mind spinning. The other man tilted back the bottle and drained it. "Well, I've got to get outta here. Cordy's expecting me."
"Whipped." Spike shook himself out of his thoughts to tease.
"Yep. And so are you. Good luck. See ya Friday."
"Yeah. Give Jazz a kiss for me."
"Will do," Xander called as he left the apartment. Spike walked back into the living room, and settled himself back on the floor. He lit a cigarette and looked at the race on the tv, not really seeing it. He had to try to figure out a way to get Buffy to trust him again. Unfortunately, he was coming up blank. Scowling, he finished his beer, then took a drag off his cigarette, staring at the screen as if it held the answers to the universe.
*There had to be something,* he thought, idly rolling the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. Maybe he needed to talk to his dad. Rupert always seemed to know what to do in a sticky situation. Nodding to himself, he got up from the floor and went to find his boots. His father should have been home from the gallery an hour ago, and would be settling in for his night of reading. Now was as good a time as any.
Turning off the tv, Spike grabbed his keys and headed out of the apartment, the door slamming in his wake.
~*~*~
"So, how long are you going to torture him?" Dawn asked, tilting her head to the side. She watched as her sister carefully stirred the spaghetti sauce, then dipped a piece of bread in to check it.
"Who?" The teenager rolled her eyes and rested her chin on her fist.
"Spike, of course. He's been trying to get hold of you for three days now. Did anything happen the other night?" Buffy closed her eyes as memories rushed over her, making her dizzy. Boy, did something happen, she thought. That's why she had been avoiding him. One touch, a look, and she was panting like a dog. It was not conducive to thinking things through, and she desperately needed to think, before she fell into bed with him.
"I'm not torturing him," she finally said, turning to sit at the table.
"Oh, yeah. That's why you won't talk to him when he calls, and when he shows up you hide in the bathroom and have me tell him you're out. Definitely doesn't sound like torture to me," Dawn said sarcasm dripping from her voice. Buffy glared at the younger woman.
"It's complicated." Dawn rolled her eyes again, and plucked a tomato out of the salad.
"Yeah. Real complicated. You love him, he loves you. The situation is just wrought with complications."
"And just when did you become Dr. Phil?" Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, and eyeballed the girl across from her. Dawn just wrinkled her nose.
"Look, I might be new to this whole boy/girl thing. But I knew at eleven that you guys should be together. No matter what I wanted. It was always you. I can only hope to find that." Tears pricked the back of Buffy's eyes at the sadness that touched her sister's face. Spike would forever and always be Dawn's first love.
"Connor seems to be on the right track."
"Yeah. He does." A large smile split the girl's face as the image of her unexpected boyfriend popped into her mind. "Oh, that reminds me. Angel's in town. Do you mind if Connor comes to Mark's party? He's so not into family bonding." Buffy had to chuckle at that.
"I don't care. But call Willow first. Don't want to mess up her hors d'oeuvres count."
"I guess not. She might never recover." They both snickered, thinking of the redhead's insistence on precision. "So, what are you going to do about Spike? You can't avoid him forever."
"I know that. And I'm not planning on it. It's just, I don't know. I didn't expect this. I figured, when he left, that was it. No second chance. I cherished the memories and moved on."
"No you didn't. You know it, I know, hell, even Riley knew it."
"Language." Dawn rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I know all that. I don't know what's holding me back. It really hurt when he left. I don't know if I could handle it again."
"What makes you think he's going to leave?"
"Nothing, really." Buffy admitted, getting up to turn the sauce off. She then dumped the noodles and started to pile food on plates.
"What do Cordy and Willow say?"
"I can't tell you and keep it PG." Dawn laughed at that, thinking along the same lines as the other girls.
"So, do it. It'll make you happy."
"For how long?" the blonde asked quietly, putting a plate in front of Dawn and sitting down. The younger Summers pinned her sister with her suddenly adult eyes.
"However long you let it." With that, Dawn picked up her fork and dug in, leaving her sister to sit in silence, idly twirling noodles on her fork.
~*~*~
"Dad?" Spike called, walking through the door of his father's apartment. He smiled when he saw the boxes marked 'Will's stuff' sitting on the couch. "Real subtle old man," he chuckled, moving towards the kitchen when he didn't see Rupert. His brows drew together in confusion when he didn't see him in there either. His father's car was out front, so he knew that he was home. But it was too early for him to be in bed, and there was no light on in the bathroom.
Walking down the hall, Spike glanced in his old room, smirking at how empty it was now. He stopped in front of Rupert's door, and leaned in, listening for the sound of movement. When he heard a faint rustling, he raised his hand, and gave a sharp knock.
"Dad?" he called again, curling his hand around the knob. He heard a voice, too garbled to make out. He twisted the knob and started to push it open. "Dad? You alright?" When the door swung the full way open, he stood, stunned, taking in the scene before him. There, in his father's bed, was the pretty, young blonde who worked at the gallery. The fact that she was in here in the first place was enough to put Spike to sputtering. The fact that she was naked, clutching a sheet had him nearly pass out.
"Will." Two sets of blue eyes locked and Spike found himself stunned again to see Rupert, who was obviously nude under the robe he had wrapped around himself walking towards him.
"Uhm, uh. Sorry. I knocked, and, and. . .nobody answered. Didn't mean to interrupt. Carry on," he stammered, turning on his booted heel and darting down the hall.
"Will," Giles called, following him. Panic had his heart racing as he tried to catch up to his son. He hadn't meant for the boy to find out this way. Hell, he hadn't meant to wind up here, like this. "Will!"
Spike either didn't hear him, or was ignoring him as he stalked through the apartment and towards the door.
"William!" Finally, the blond turned and faced his father, anger and hurt written plainly across the sharp planes of his face.
"What?" The word was sharp, the eyes blazing as he looked at his father.
"I'm sorry you had to find out this way. . ."
"Please, don't," Spike said, holding up a hand to stay his father's words. "I can't, right now." Giles looked as if he was going to try again, but the look on his child's face had him thinking better of it. Spike was asking for time, and Rupert felt that it was best to give it to him. He nodded, his eyes begging Spike to understand. The other man's jaw tensed, and tears glistened in his eyes while he looked at the man that gave him life. So many things were swirling through him, and he had to get out. Without another word, he turned and left the apartment, the soft click of the door reverberating through Rupert's head.
"You should have told him." Anya's quiet voice drifted to him, the words suffused with sympathy.
"I know. I just didn't know how." Giles turned back to her, smiling a bit at the tousled hair and flushed skin of the woman before him. "He never properly grieved for his mother. I was afraid," he admitted, walking back over to her. She slid her arms around his neck, her fingers stroking through his hair, soothing him.
"He'll be alright. It's a bit of a shock catching your parents doing things that they're not supposed to know about." Rupert had to smile at that.
"I suppose you're right."
"Of course I am. Now, come on." He took one last look at the door, distress at hurting his son flowing through him, before letting Anya draw him back into the bedroom.
~*~*~
"Hi, Spike," Dawn said, after she opened the door. Her smile faded at the look in his eyes. "What's the matter?" She took a step forward, worry marring her brow.
"Nibblet, where's big sis? And if you tell me at the store, I'm going to rip this house apart until I find her," he warned. Dawn's eyes widened at the hard edge to his voice, and opened her mouth to answer.
"I'm right here, Spike. What's wrong?" Buffy stepped from behind the door, frowning at the look of pain on his face.
"I need to talk to you. Would you come out here, please?" It sounded more like a demand than a request, and the sisters shared a surprised look before Buffy slipped outside.
"Don't sit on the phone. You need to finish your homework," she warned Dawn before shutting the door. She turned and looked at Spike, wondering about the rigid line of his back. He had already settled himself on the top step, a cigarette smoldering in his hand. He was taking rapid puffs, like a crack addict trying to hurry the rush. Gingerly, she sat next to him, and turned to study his stony profile. "Spike, what's the matter?" His eyes darted to hers, then back to the empty street.
"I'm trying to be mature, and not blow my frigging cork. Afterall, who am I to say what he does. He's bloody well over eighteen, isn't he? S'not like it's my business what he does." Two tawny brows drew together at his diatribe, wondering just what in the hell he was talking about.
"Spike?" she tried again, resting a hand on his knee.
"Sorry, luv. I'm a little. . .okay, a lot freaked out." He lit another cigarette off the butt of the one in his hand, before tossing the remnants away.
"I can tell by your chain smoking. Now, what caused this desire to promote lung cancer?" she teased, hoping to get him to talk. Spike took several deep breaths, as if he was gearing himself to tell her something devastating.
"Ijustfoundmyfatherinbedwithawoman." The words came out so fast, and so close together, that Buffy wasn't sure she had caught them.
"Be kind, rewind," she quipped, trying to lighten the mood to something less oppressive. He turned to look at her then, blue eyes torn between anger and hurt. Instinctively, she reached up and cupped his face, running her thumb along his cheek to soothe him.
"I just found my father in bed with a woman," he repeated, enunciating each word. "I just found my father in bed with a woman." Once more, and it finally seemed to be sinking in. Buffy's eyes had widened comically, the idea of Rupert and sex not computing. She struggled to keep in the 'ew' that was dying to push its way out of her mouth. The image that popped into her head making her face flame. It wasn't that she didn't think that Giles should have that in his life. It was just no child wants to admit that their parents even knew what sex was, much less actually catch them doing it. Suddenly, an image of Spike's face at the moment that realization had settled ran through her mind, and she had to stifle a chuckle. She didn't think that he would appreciate her seeing the humor just yet.
"Okay," she started, not sure what to say. "I'm assuming it was Anya?" She reared back at the fury that blazed into his eyes.
"You knew?" His voice was low and dangerous.
"Cordy might have mentioned that Anya liked him. But I swear I didn't know anything other than that. As far as I know, they haven't even been out on a date yet."
"Wonderful. Dad's just hopping into bed with anyone now."
"I don't think that's fair," Buffy stated calmly. The look he gave her was anything but calm.
"Really, why?" He didn't seem as curious to know as the question indicated. Sighing, Buffy settled in and prepared for the blow up that was sure to come.
"Your father has been alone for a long time. He deserves some happiness."
"Oh, and a quick toss in the sheets with some chippy is going to do that?" he snapped. His accent was starting to smooth out, and lose the edge that it had normally. Whenever he got angry, he sounded so much like his father it was scary.
"Maybe. And who's to say that's all it is?"
"Oh, so you think that he might want to marry the little chit? Jesus, Buffy, she doesn't look any older than me. Am I supposed to call her mum?" The distaste that crossed his features let her know just what he thought of THAT idea.
"Spike, don't jump the gun. I'm going to assume, from the way you're acting, you didn't stop to ask questions." He shook his head, and threw his cigarette away.
"Kinda had to get out of there before I heaved." Taking a deep breath, Buffy laced her fingers through his, and looked up into his eyes.
"I remember the first date my mother went on after the divorce. It pissed me off, and I made her life miserable for the entire week beforehand, and a couple of days after for good measure. Finally, she just blew up at me. Told me it wasn't my place to tell her what she could and couldn't do. Their marriage was over, and nothing was going to change that." Tears brightened his eyes as he listened to her, Rosemary's face floating through his memory. He blinked to keep them at bay, his entire body strung tight with tension.
"I understand all that," he said after a couple of minutes, his voice thick. "But. . ." he couldn't finish, the tears welling up again. He fought desperately to control them, his fingers nearly crushing Buffy's.
"It still hurts," she finished for him. He nodded, looking down at her. Her heart broke at the look of utter anguish in his eyes, the color nearly darkened to black. "Oh, baby. Let it out. You can't keep it all in like this. Trust me, I know. After you left, the day after the funeral, I just broke. It all came out. Everything I'd had bottled up inside just poured down my face. After it was over, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted. Cry for her, baby. It's okay. She would want your father to be happy. And she wouldn't want you to be hurting like this. Let go." Buffy had maneuvered herself as close to him as she could, her fingers in constant motion on his face, her other hand taking the abuse his fingers were doling out. Spike sucked in a shuddering breath, pressing his lips in a tight line to keep that wall from breaking within. He was afraid if he let go, that Rosemary would fade. He had to keep the pain of losing her fresh, so her image would always be clear. If he let her go, he was afraid it would be complete.
Buffy just continued to talk to him, her soothing touch, and gentle words going a long way towards cracking his resolve. She felt him shaking, and scooted closer, wrapping her arm around his neck, and stroking his back.
"Don't be afraid, baby. She'll live in your heart. Nothing will take that away." When he broke, it was with the fury of the waves in a hurricane. He released her hand to haul her into his lap, his arms banding so tight around her she had to struggle to breathe. She didn't complain, just kept stroking him, and whispering, while he soaked her shirt with his tears, his hoarse, rasping sobs filling the air around them. Tears poured down her face in response to his, as well as her own lingering grief at losing her mother.
Buffy didn't know how long they stayed like that, with their arms around each other, while six years of pent up grief drained out of him. Dawn had opened the door at one point, her young face worried. Buffy had just shook her head, telling her not now. That was the only interruption they got, neither one caring if the neighbors were looking outside to see what all the noise was about. Spike seemed unaware of anything around him. He just held onto her like a life preserver, while his soul screamed what had been taken from him.
As the minutes, or hours, Buffy couldn't be sure, ticked past, she felt his shudders start to ease. She kept up her whispering and light touching, reacquainting herself with his body as she did so. One hand tangled in the soft white curls, while the other drifted over his shoulders and back. His breathing became less ragged as the sobs decreased.
A few minutes later, he pulled back to look up at her, his eyes red rimmed, but still beautiful. She smiled down at him, and traced her thumb over his scar.
"Feel better?" Another deep, shuddering breath was her answer, as well as a nod.
"A little," he admitted, his words husky. He never lessened his grip on her, afraid if he did, she might slip away. "Sorry about leaking all over your shirt." She just shrugged, and continued to stare down at him. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"For being here." She smiled again, leaning into his touch when he cupped her cheek.
"Anytime." Those were the last words they said to each other. The night sounds drifted around them, enclosing them in their own little world, as they stayed on the steps, just holding each other.