Chapter 14: ‘Strawberries, Sex and Showers’



After their first ‘encounter’ Buffy and Spike lay in that big, comfy bed, their arms, legs and entire bodies entwined. They lay snuggled together, with a comfortable silence between them for quite a while.

Finally, William shifted enough to prop himself up on his left elbow and stare down at her. She gave him a lazy smile, still basking in the afterglow of her astounding orgasm.

Will ran his hand down her shoulder, her breast and tummy, letting it come to rest on her slim hip.

“Hungry?” he asked with a soft smile.

“Famished,” she replied honestly. “I haven’t been this hungry in ages, Will,” she giggled.

The smirk on his mouth informed her that Will was thinking of more then actual food, but he hopped up out of bed, pulling her with him.

“I’ve got a virtual feast here, my Princess,” he said as he led her to the kitchen.

True to his word, Will had brought a virtual feast. The refrigerater in the tiny kitchen was stock full of roasted chicken, some lovely french bread, and strawberries next to a container of what looked like whipped cream.

William pulled a bottle of Champagne from the freezer and Buffy just had to remark, “all this for a ‘chat, Will?’ with a rather sly grin on her face.

“Come on and help,” he ordered good-naturedly as he lay out the lovely feast on the small dinette in the adjoining room. Buffy put the chicken on some paper towels from the counter and pulled the bread apart with her hands.

“Guess we’re going alfresco,” she giggled as William poured the wine and she surveyed him in his boxers.

Buffy wore a plush white terry cloth robe that the Inn provided this room and felt kind of ‘clunky’ in it. William assured her she looked near as sexy in the robe as she did in nothing, which is how he preferred her.

Spike watched her eat, only picking at his own food.

‘Bloody hell,’ he mused, his Buffy had an apetite. Which was kind of funny, considering how tiny she really was. However, she munched down the chicken, gobbled the bread and drank her champagne with relish, all in the most lady like manner of course.

When she reached for the strawberries, he stopped her with his hand, “I’ll feed you those,” he told her as he pulled her from her chair and onto his own lap.

Buffy snuggled her bottom down into his groin and perched liked a kitten waiting for a treat. Her little pink tongue stuck out, delicately, from her mouth in anticipation of the red berry he dipped in the cream.

“Say please,” he purred as he dangled the fruit in front of her. With an adorable pout, Buffy nipped at the strawberry, attempting to wrest it away from him with her mouth, but he pulled it back abruptly, “I didn’t hear, please,” he said in a mocking tone.

“Please…..” she whimpered, seductively and he placed the juicy morsel up to her tongue. Instead of taking the fruit into her waiting mouth, she hesitated, then slowly licked the cream from the berry, all the while peeking out the corner of her hazel/green eyes at him.

“I like cream!” she purred at him before she nibbled the fruit itself with her blunt teeth.

Spike suppressed a groan and felt his cock perk up again at this little minx’s innuendo.

Buffy shot him a naughty little grin and gobbled the strawberry up before he could snatch it away again.

“MMMmmm,” she cooed as she licked her lips, her eyes half closed. "Better then sex!” she said tauntingly, leaning over to grab another berry from the table.

“Oh,” Spike chuckled as he grabbed her hand and slipped it under the waistband of his boxers. “Better then sex, eh?” he quizzed with a smirk, “I must of not done somethin’ right the first time. Better try again,huh?”

And he lifted her up from the chair, one arm under her lucious arse the other about her waist, to carry her back to the bed. He flopped down on the bed, pulling her down on top of him.

“Let’s try again, shall we, luv” he asked, huskily, “shall we change your mind about that strawberries vs. the sex thing?”

“My dessert!” she cried in mock anger, eyeing the remaining strawberries on the table.

“Oh, come on now, luv,” he chuckled, as he ran his tongue over his teeth, “surely we can find a better dessert then some bloody berries!”

William reached towards the end table to grab a condom left there, “do the honors, will you Princess?” he murmered as he ran his hand over his own cock.

‘Oh, I’ll do the honors,’ she thought with another giggle and proceeded to rip the condom wrapper open with her teeth. The stunned look on Will’s face was priceless, but not near as rewarding as the expression he had when she popped the condom in her mouth and then slipped it over his ‘thingy’ with ease.

‘Thanks Angel, at least for teaching me that little trick!’ she thought with a smirk. She dismissed any more thoughts of Angel and slid down on her blond lover in one quick thrust.

Spike was just the littlest bit dissapointed that Buffy didn’t continue that ‘thing’ with her mouth after she’d put the rubber on. However, he was so mesmerized by her wanton act with the rubber in the first place that he overlooked it.

‘Christ!’ he thought to himself as he watched and felt her ride him like a jocky, ‘she’s betterin’ a pro!’

To see her, her honey blond hair thrown back, the fire in her now emerald green eyes as she slid up and down, side to side gave him a sense of joy he hadn’t felt in, well, forever. It also reminded him, sadly, of what he had truly missed with her in all these years as he watched her expressions change faster then he could clock.

At one moment, she was like a wanton bitch in heat, all fire and moans of pleasure. Next second, she looked all tender and caring; a womanly smile on her lips, her breasts swelled with desire.

He wasn’t doing much different himself. The poet in him couldn’t even write the emotions he was feeling right now. Not properly anyway. Buffy brought out something in him he thought was long dead; not just desire, that was the easy part.

It was something more but he couldn’t yet put a name or description to it. Later, when he was alone, maybe he could put it down on paper, like he’d done so many times before about his Buffy. He’d never let anyone see those words he’d written of course, they’d think him the worse kind of ponce, but to him, they meant everything. To have her now, so intimately after all of his prose and prostrations all these years, was incredibly overwhelming. He came way too quickly, he felt, just because he was so overjoyed that she was here, with him, like this.

Buffy felt his release and allowed herself to follow quickly. She was more then pleased with herself that she had brought Will to peak so quickly, but she restrained herself from showing her arrogance to him. He was the kind of man who needed to ‘know’ that his lover (God did she really just think that!) was as satisfied as he was and she did her best to express her sexual happiness as well as she could.

For all of her experience, Buffy felt she was still somewhat of an innocent at heart, especially for some reason, with William. Even though they had been intimate twice now, she found it hard to ‘not blush’ when he placed a sweet kiss on her breast and excused himself to get rid of the rubber.

By the time William had returned from the bathroom, Buffy had cleaned herself as best she could, with the kleenex on the end table. She now lay on her back, her gaze fixed on he off white colored ceiling above the king sized bed. Will slid next to her and pulled her on her side to face him. He brushed her stray, damp hair from her face and gazed intently into her eyes.

“Watcha’ thinking, Buffy?” he asked softly as he grazed her cheek with his fingers.

“Oh,” she sighed, “I don’t know, Will. Truthfully, I’m a bit tuckered out to think too much about anything.”

This brought a giggle from her and a chuckle from him. Long ago, maybe even before she’d married Angel, Buffy was told by her own Mother that the sexiest thing that could happen between two people in bed was to ‘share a laugh’ or even a giggle together. Besides the nookie, her and William hadn’t done much but laugh, chuckle, giggle and have some fun.

This confused Buffy; wasn’t she supposed to do all that with Angel? Wasn’t he her husband? The sad truth was; her and Angel hadn’t really laughed about much of anything, anywhere in a long, long time.

He watched her, carefully. Some part of him just knew she was thinking about that prick, Angel. Oh, maybe not in a sexual way, but in some way he had no part in; the married way. It sent a pang of jealousy and hurt through his heart. He was totally convinced that Angel did not deserve a woman like Buffy. Maybe even more then that, Spike wanted the everyday life experiences that Angel shared with Buffy. A part of him, the part that still held onto the dreams of his youth wanted that.

“I’m gunky!” she exclaimed suddenly. Buffy had noticed that she wasn’t quite ‘fresh’ especially since their last romp in bed. “I need a shower,” she continued, “I’m hot, sticky and nasty!”

She felt somewhat embarrassed and tried to hide the red, hot blush that shot up her neck and face.

“Mmmm,” William purred at her as he pulled her even closer, “I like hot, sticky and nasty Buffy!”

This caused her to blush even more, “well, I don’t like hot, sticky and nasty Buffy!” she retorted. Before he could stop her, Buffy jumped up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom, nothing but a nice hot shower on her mind.

“Heat up the water, luv,” he called behind her, “I’ll be in to join you a sec.”

Buffy damn near fainted, “I shower alone,” she shot back firmly.

“Not tonight, sweet,” he finished, putting an end to any discussion.

He needed a smoke at the least and a combination drink/smoke at the most. Buffy had not only worn him out, all too soon, but she had unleashed something in him that he’d kept at bay for years. Even though he suspected what that ‘something’ might be, he knew he needed to keep it suppressed, at least for the time being.

‘Don’t scare her,’ he reminded himself, ‘just for once Spike Giles, be patient, bide your time.’

Spike lit the first smoke he had in hours. That in itself was pretty amazing as he truly was capable of being a chain smoker. Oh, he knew it was deadly, the smoking and all; he was neither stupid or uneducated, but he always enjoyed the habit so. Besides, he never thought there was much to keep him from destructive habits; he embraced them as much as some men embraced hearth and home.

However, with Buffy here, beside him in this way, he began to rethink the whole ‘bad ass; devil may care’ bullshit attitude that had driven him for most of his life. It was a fact, had Buffy and he hooked up back then, years ago, his whole life would have been different. More then that, his whole existence would have been better, much better.

The shower was large, almost the size of a small High School gym shower. Except this one had salmon and mint green tiles. It must have been a bitch to clean, Spike mused, as he stepped in to join Buffy in the warm water that sprayed from three different nozzles.

“Buffy,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms about her little, wet body, “I,” but he couldn’t finish. The insecure part of him was afraid to open up and tell this girl/woman here, in this posh motel room, in this surrealistic shower, that he truly needed her. Needed her so much that it scared him to think about it. He was more than worried, he was terrified.

Buffy had no idea what that ‘incident’ in High School at that stupid frat party had done to him. He had been with girls before, it wasn’t that, but Buffy had always been his goal, even then, and for her to reject him, say that fucking name of his so called friend? It had devestated him far more then he could, or would ever let be known.

“Just let me wash,kay, Will?” she asked meekly, her tone tired and strained.

“Kay, Buffy,” he replied.

She opened the shampoo bottle provided by the Inn, but William grabbed it from her hands and lathered his own with the liquid contents.

“Let me, please, Princess?” he whispered.

She nodded her assent and felt the wonderous ministrations of William’s long slim fingers in her hair and on her scalp as he ran the soapy concoction into her tresses. He then washed his own hair and proceeded to wash her body with the french milled soap, then his. When he was done soaping them both, he held her tight as he allowed the water to rinse them off completely. After they were both washed and drenched clean, she shut off the water and he grabbed two plush towels from the racks on the wall.

In silence, she allowed him to dry her, watching him as he went about his task. The odd thing was, William didn’t seem to get any sexual pleasure from it. He just dried her off first, then himself, dropping the wet towels on the floor next to the shower. Something told Buffy that William was restraining himself far more then she could imagine. That he was holding back in some way; some feelings, some desires, perhaps even some information. She just couldn’t put a finger on it.

They lay, snuggled in bed together, his head rested on her left breast. William was dead to the world. Buffy was wide awake, for now, and stared down at the sleeping man in her arms. His hair, normally so controlled and slicked back was now curly with little platinum spikes that jutted out all over his head. He slept the sleep of the contented, a slight smile on his handsome face.

‘Little wonder,’ she giggled silently, they had come from the shower, clean and refreshed only to repeat their sexual escapades from before. Buffy couldn’t remember who wore out first, but right now, it was Will that was out like a light, exhausted, for good reason.

‘He looks sixteen-years-old right now,’ she thought in awe.

Buffy glanced at the clock above the faux fireplace mantel and was shocked to see the time!

‘Damn!’ she gasped, ‘it’s after midnight!’

With another glance down at Will, she disengaged herself, as gently as she could so as not to wake him, and slipped into the bathroom. A quick wash, she’d have to shower as soon as she got home to rid herself of the sinful essence that covered her, and she crept back out into the main room to get dressed.

She hoped she didn’t wake William. All she wanted to do, no, make that needed to do, was to scribble a quick note; one to explain how wonderful tonight had been, but could never happen again, yada yada. Married woman and all that. As she slipped on her sundress, she dared a glance at the sleeping form in the bed, “sorry, Will,” she whispered sincerely, “but, this can never happen again.”

Her sundress on, everything in place, Buffy set the quickly written note on the end table by William’s lighter.

‘He’s sure to see that!’ she surmised as she tiptoed to the front door with her purse in hand.

Just as she reached for the door handle, a deep, British voice boomed out in the dark, “now, just where the hell do you thing you’re going, Princess?”

Without turning around, Buffy took a deep breath to steady her shaking voice, “I’m going home, Will. It’s late and you know, married and all. Please don’t try to stop me. This can’t happen again, you have to know that.”

Whatever she expected, Buffy never could have predicted William’s next few words.

“Set that lucious little arse down, sweetheart,” his tone one of controlled anger that she’d heard before, “you’re not going anywhere, tonight and you and me are going to have a real talk now!”

Before Buffy could reply, William was up out of the bed and had reached her at the door. He grabbed her arm, painfully, and spun her around to face him. His eyes were black with rage, his lovely mouth was twisted in a horrible mock image of his ‘fun’ smirk.

With a snarl he clasped her by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes, “and by the way, don’t give me that ‘I’m married, bullshit excuse, Buffy,” he sneered, “it never mattered with those other pricks you’re currently shagging, did it?”

A/N: Hmmmmm, apparently Spike ‘knows’ something that Buffy didn’t realize. Wonder how he knows, why he knows and what he plans to do with this information? If ‘you’ all want to know, please read the next chapter. Oh, and please review, I’m wondering if I should continue submitting this? Thanks, Luv, Spuf.



 

Chapter 15: ‘Buffy’s Wake Up Call’



If Buffy could have breathed, maybe she could have said something, done something, like run out of that room #7 and away from William. But, she couldn’t breathe at the moment, in fact, she felt like she was suffocating.

Instead of making a run for the door and escaping from him, she did exactly as she was told. She sat down on the little chair by the table, her head hung down, eyes focused on her perfectly pedicured nails.

Although she prided herself on being a ‘woman of the new Millenium’, lately Buffy had come to realize she was more submissive then most of the females she’d grown up with. When she was little, up until her early twenty’s, Buffy played ‘daddy’s little girl’ for Hank Summers, someone who did not deserve her respect, much less her love. Mama had always ‘adored’ her good little girl, Buffy; she was such a little Saint.

And Angel? Well, as long as she fit into his ideal of a ‘Travers Stepford Wife’ then everything was just dandy at the homefront. Except, everything was not well on the Travers’ homefront and hadn’t been for a long time.

She did not watch William pace around in front of her, like a nervous cat or expectant father. Rather, she felt him do it.

By the time he finally spoke again, he’d finished off a cigarette and cursed at least fifteen times, if she was truly keeping count. Which she must have been, because she couldn’t allow herself to think of anything else at that moment.

William’s revelation that he knew about the other men in her life had knocked some of her own marital self-righteousness out of her. Somewhat like getting the wind knocked out of you, which she knew all too well about. Once, when they were first married, Angel had become enraged when she had spent way too much on a piece of art.

He hadn’t meant to do it, of course, and later he would be beyond consolation for it. But, he’d hit her, open handed, and slapped her down into the mantel of their living room fireplace. The wind knocked out of her for almost a minute, she guessed. He apologized profusely never hit her again after that, but, she never forgot it either.

When William finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but stern. Buffy just couldn’t look at him, she was too mortified by the whole thing. He must of known something; his words earlier proved that. However, what or how or why he knew, she wasn’t sure and was rather afraid to find out.

“Buffy,” he sighed, lighting another cigarette, “sometimes you are rather dense.”

‘Just a couple hours ago,’ she thought sadly, ‘he called me smart.’

“Not stupid, really,” he added as he put out his cigarette and turned to face her once again. “You’re just naïve about a lot of things, luv.”

She glanced up at him, to find him crouched in front of her, his indigo eyes level with her green ones.

William ran his hand through his blond hair, “you are a smart girl, except when it comes to certain ‘things’ and certain people. I’m going to give you a much needed wake up call, Princess.”

He must have read the confused look in her eyes because he went on to try and explain.

“For example,” he began, “you think you know your precious Angel. But you don’t know him for shit!”

The loudness of his voice caused Buffy to sink back into her chair. She felt like a cornered cat and she was suddenly very frightened of being in the room with him.

Spike was already sorry for the way he had snapped at Buffy, but he automatically went into defense mode when she tried to sneak out. Oh, and when she had spouted off all that ‘married, can’t happen again bullshit,’ he’d gone into a panic. He didn’t react well in panic; he never had.

‘After all this,’ he thought, determined, ‘I’ll be God damned if she’s going to end this as soon as it’s began!’

In his heart, he realized that she needed to know at least some of the truth. About what a prick Angel really was, but he was afraid to reveal too much about him, too soon.

“Buffy,” he reached out to touch her cheek only to see and feel a lone tear there. She pulled away from him, which cut him to the core. He had not intended on making her cry; only a couple of hours before they were laughing in bed together. To see her now, cowering from him, trying to hide the threatening tears, it hurt him more then he could ever admit.

However, when she looked away from him, that damn stubborn Buffy expression on her face, he hardened his heart once again. His next words to her would be deliberate, hurtful and cruel.

“You really think Angel is a trusting fool, don’t you, Princess?” he snorted as he pulled her head around to face him. Buffy’s wild-eyed, puzzled look caused him to smirk in spite of himself.

“Well,” he’s a bloody fool, true enough,” he hissed, “but he’s not all that trusting. At least not lately.”

She asked with her eyes rather then words, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud. ‘Poor little Buffy,’ he thought almost maliciously, ‘my poor little sweet. She’s waking up now, innit she?’

“That day, at your hubby’s office when we ‘bumped’ into each other?” His Little Buffy just nodded, numbly. “I was there because I was ‘checking in’ with your Daddy Angel. You, see, pet,” he said matter of factly, “your hubby hired me a while back to kind of ‘check up on you.”

Spike hoped his smug expression would hit home with her, but she piped up, defiantly, “you mean spy on me?”

He nodded, “well, damn, Buffy,” he quipped, “maybe you’re less dense then I thought?”

He knew she just wanted to slap the shit out of him, her whole demeanor said so, but he also knew she wouldn’t dare. No, she needed more information and answers from him. Like he had told her, she was naïve, but not necessarily stupid.

“What does Angel know?” she asked meekly, unable to look at him.

“Nothing,” Spike responded harshly as he stood and lit another cigarette. “I told your precious significant other that you were a perfect bloody Saint, always.”

Buffy shot him an undeserved grateful look he really couldn’t bear to see.

“I’m not that fucking noble, Buffy,” he spit out at her, “don’t give me that ‘oh my white knight’ look. I have my own reasons for keeping Angel in the dark about your ‘other life’ and they ‘are’ purely selfish, I assure you.”

“So,” Buffy looked at him evenly, “what exactly do you know, Spike?”

She knew her sarcastic tone matched his own, and she hoped he noticed that she used his nickname instead of the usual William, or Will.

‘Serves him right,’ she thought,’I hope it hurts!’

It did, she could tell, his jaw clenched and his blue eyes became slits. Whatever his motives, Buffy realized that jealousy had to be part of it; his whole stance just reeked of it.

“I know about that little spoiled shit, Connor and of course clueless Xander. But, the one that really slays me is Finn!” William shook his head, he certainly wasn’t laughing now, “I mean, fucking Riley Finn, Buffy?” She just shrugged.

William actually growled and hunkered down in front of her again, blocking her escape from the chair by putting both his hands on either arm of it. “I’m pretty sure I know ‘why’ you’re doing them, it’s that Chase bitch right

She nodded, suppressing the urge to strike out and scratch that smirk on on his face, right off.

“Yeah, well,” he continued evenly, “I’ve known about your Angel for a while. The cheating, a lot of things. Kept me on my toes, kept me on watch. I’ve been watching you for years Buffy, just waiting for that fuck to make the mistake I needed to strike. Just like the snake I really am!”

Buffy found herself pressed against the back of the chair, again, William’s face almost looked demonic now and she swallowed hard to get up her courage.

“So, Angel hired you to spy on me,” she started, her voice almost a whine, “and he told you things like, where I’d be and all? Like the Bronze the other night?”

“Seems you just answered your own question, luv,” he snapped back as he watched her digest all this information.

There it was again, that ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look of hers that he could never resist. Trying very hard to remain stern and not to just take her in his arms and cuddle her, he pondered his next statement, carefully.

“I don’t really think Angel ever believed you were cheating on him, Buffy,” his voice was much lower and gentler, “I think it was just that old thing of he’s out fucking around so ‘you’ have to be too. Don’t fret, I convinced him that you aren’t.”

Spike had to get through to her; Angel was a monster. Well, he, Spike could be a bad ass monster too; but he’d never jeopardize his relationship, much less his marriage to Buffy, of all women by being a cheating prick like Angel.

To his horror, Buffy broke out in a torrent of tears, accompanied by sobs that neared the level of wails!

“Oh bloody hell!” he cried as he kicked the end table out of frustration, “stop the damn waterworks, already!”

He couldn’t allow himself to feel sympathy for her right now, he was too wrapped up in trying to figure out just why she’d come here tonight, to be with him.

“Why’re you crying, Princess,” he asked with a sneer, “cos’ you got caught out? Cos’ Angel doesn’t trust you? Or is it cos’ your bloody game of revenge came back to kick your arse?”

Buffy let loose with another torrent of tears and he cursed himself for being so harsh with his questions.

‘God,’ he thought ruefully, ‘I’m pathetic, she’ll always rule over me.’ She looked like a little girl, right now, one who’d gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“A little of all three of those reasons, William,” she sobbed as she tried to wipe the traitorous tears from her hot face. “But mostly cos’ I just realized that all this meant to you,” she pointed at the bed they’d shared, “was a way to get revenge on Angel and me. For that, you know, night back in High School.”

When she was done with her accusation, she burst out into a torrent of tears and tried to get up to leave again. He stopped her, again, and tossed her on the bed with ease. Pinning her down with his own body, he forced her to face him with his free hand.

“First off,” he growled, “this did not just mean revenge to me!” He slammed his fist on the bed, right by her left shoulder. “Listen to me,” he commanded, “Listen!”

He ordered again, taking her face into both of his hands, his teeth clenched. “I have wanted you forever. I want you now, and,” he looked at her with resignation, “I’m cursed to want you to the day I die.”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head he added, “you were the pay off, Buffy. Stickin’ to that prick Angel was just a bonus, nothing more.”

Buffy searched his dark blue eyes and just knew that he was telling her the truth.

“So, what about you?” he muttered, his tone more frustrated then angry. “Why’re you here, now, with me? Just revenge?”

She should have known he’d eventually ask about ‘that’ when she shot off about being hurt about his intentions before. Buffy didn’t answer right away, mainly because she needed to sort out her emotions and speak her mind properly. Her quick responses and unthoughtful quips had gotten her in trouble before; look at that night back in High School, the one that had started this whole disaster. Finally, she spoke, her voice was very soft, but clear and she hoped William would believe her.

“No,” she began, “if that was the case, Will, I’d have sought you out in the first place. You’d have been the ‘one’ I’d have taken up with to get back at Angel.”

He was looking at her with those big blue orbs, all glazed over, searching her face for honesty.

“I,” she continued with a little crack in her voice, “I couldn’t just use you like that, Will. Not after what I did to you back then. That, would make me a complete skank instead of just the pathetic whore that I’ve become.”

She looked away from him, so ashamed she felt ill all over. Her next sentence came out shakey and mumbled, but she was sure he could hear her, even though she was unable to look at him.

“A part of me always wanted you too, especially when I was in college and all. But after that mess from our past, I guess I just was afraid ‘you’d’ reject me. What do they say in sports; the best offense is a good defense. That’s why I was so distant with you all those years. I didn’t want you to hurt me, the way I hurt you. And I’m sorry Will, I’m sorry I hurt you that night. And tonight,” she added as an after thought.”

She had more or less directed this statement at the wall next to the bed, still afraid to look at him.

“Besides, I could never ‘fool’ you Will. I can fool my mom, my friends, apparently Angel somewhat, even myself, but never you. And, of course, anyone I became involved with, I’d ‘have’ to be able to fool. They couldn’t know that I was out to revenge myself on my own husband.”

Spike wanted to believe her, everything she said made sense to the romantic in him. However, a part of him was too insecure to completely buy all of her story.

‘Was she saying ‘she cared about him in some way, truly?’ he wondered in disbelief. The cynic in him won over, whispered to him, ‘well, it’s all very fine and good to spout all of her good intentions, but the fact of the matter was; she behaved like a whore with losers that weren’t fit to lick her feet.

‘They better not have licked her feet!’ he thought as a jealous wave washed over him, again. He got up from the bed, abruptly, stalked over to get a cigarette. While he smoked it, he watched her carefully.

She sat up, her pretty little dress now wrinkled beyond repair,about her. Another one of those priceless expressions was on her pretty face. One of those ‘what me lie?’ looks of hers.

“You don’t believe me?” she whined in stunned disbelief, her eyes wide in shock.

“Doesn’t matter,” he answered in his best dead calm tone. “All’s that matters is you’re with me now. And make no mistake, Princess. You’re going to stay with me.”

He stubbed out the cigarette and sat down on a chair without looking away from her.

“I’m going to be straight with you Buffy,” Spike sighed deeply as he leaned into her.

Buffy didn’t like the sound of this or the way he was looking at her; like a cat with a mouse. A very uneasy feeling began in the pit of her tummy and rose to her throat. She felt like she’d ‘lost’ something and wasn’t going to get it back anytime too soon.

“It’s a bitch when you lose your control, isn’t it, Princess,” he sneered at her with mock menace.

‘Damn him,’ she cringed, ‘he always knows what I’m thinking!’

“Because now I have it. You see that don’t you Princess?” he asked simply. “If you hadn’t come to me, willingly, I was going to use the information I had to blackmail you into my bed,” he told her his face emotionless.

“And,” he continued in that snarky tone she just detested, “if I’m capable of that, what makes you think I wouldn’t use it to keep you in my bed?”

There was that damn smug smirk again and Buffy felt like turning on the tears once more. Problem was, they wouldn’t necessarily work on William.

“What if I just go to Angel, William?” her bravado was slowly returning and she stuck her chin out in defiance. “What if I just go to him, tell him I know about Cordelia Chase?”

This caught his attention, he searched her face to see if she truly would call his bluff.

“What if,” she continued as she stood up, proud and tall (well at least as tall as a not quite 5’3” inch girl could) “I confessed what I did because of him and Cordy. What’s the worse he can do? Divorce me?”

‘There,’ she smirked now as she leaned over to grab her purse from the night stand, ‘that’ll shut him up!’

Before she could get to the door, William called out to her, “Buffy,” his voice was so serious, she had to turn and caught the worried look he gave her. He slowly walked over to her, “I don’t think ‘divorce’ is in Angel’s vocabulary. I’m afraid,” he continued, serious as a heart attack, “he’d do more then divorce you. And Buffy, he’d go after your three buddies, too.”

Buffy didn’t have a good come back for that one. William was implying that Angel wouldn’t divorce her, he’d see her dead first? Her and everybody else involved? Deep down in her heart and soul, she knew that William was not exagerating. Angel would have her killed if he found out, but probably only after making her watch everyone else die first. She finally saw just how dangerous her own husband and his tremendous ego really was; in fact she realized she didn’t even know him anymore.

Buffy was terrified, Spike could see that he had scared her eyes open about Angel, finally. Before she could say another word, he pointed to the bed and ordered her, “get naked and get back in bed now.”

She hesitated, but began to do as she was told, much to his inner relief. When she’d undressed she lay her little things on one of the chairs and crawled into bed and under the covers; her expression one of utter defeat.

A pang of remorse shot through his cold heart when she lay with her back to him. He ignored the pang, “I’m gonna’ have a smoke, then I’ll be there,” he said harshly and lit up a cigarette.

“Christ, but I need a drink,” he muttered and went to the honor bar for some real liquer.

Spike sat on the empty chair and smoked another cigarette while he finished off the whole bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar. It was one of those little ‘airline’ sized ones, so it wasn’t that much, really. At least that sounded like good reasoning to him.

He was tired and still slightly pissed off, but he wanted to give Buffy some space before he joined her in bed again. Finally, he tossed back the last gulp of whiskey and crawled back into bed, next to her.

She was feigning sleep, he knew it, no way she was asleep now. Although, he was sure she was as exhausted as he, no way could she be asleep after what went on earlier. That was good, because for what he was about to say, he needed her wide awake.

“Buffy,” he whispered; no answer. “Buffy, luv,” he tried again, except this time he jostled her gently with his right hand. “Listen to me,” he commanded softly.

“What?” she asked in a shaky voice, sorry her sleep act hadn’t fooled him. She never could fool ‘him.’

“I want you to get rid of them.”

Buffy rolled over and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Who?” but she was more then sure of just who William meant.

“Cut them all loose, all three of them; the whelp, your lap dog, Harris and that prick Riley Finn. All of them.”

Before she could ask ‘how’ he placed his hand on her left cheek and kissed her forehead, almost tenderly. “As far as I’m concerned, my sweet, I own you now, and I don’t share what’s mine. You don’t need them anymore. I have an exclusive claim on you and I want them off your mind and out of your life, as soon as possible,” he ordered gruffly.

Buffy wasn’t really stunned, this was classic William in control of things. Frankly, she was relieved to have a solid reason to dump the others, even if it was to molify him. Things were getting complicated enough and now they were only going to get worse.

William had complete control of her now, she couldn’t fool herself; he held all the cards. She resigned herself to the fact that she ‘had’ to do what he told her. How or when exactly she was going to complete the breaking up parts with Connor, Xander and Riley was another matter. She would have to do some well thought out planning for that.

“Okay, William,” she sighed tiredly.

“Get some sleep, Princess,” he murmered as he ran his fingertips softly down her cheek to her neck.

“You’ll see,” he went on soothingly, “it’ll work out all right for us. I’ve got your back, sweetheart. I promise.”

He felt her began to relax as he gently rubbed her shoulders and back, pulling her closer into him.

Suddenly, “William,” her voice was tense, unsure, “I’m still married to Angel. I have to behave like a uhm, you know wife to him. What about Angel?”

Through clenched teeth Spike responded gruffly, “Well, I can’t do anything about Angel.” ‘At least not yet’ he told himself.


A/N: This chapter was waaayyy too long, sorry. But I had to get some things straightened before I continued. I hope I wrote Buffy a bit more sympathetically and didn’t write Spike too mean. I love Spike, but I love Spuffy more. Thanks, Spuf



 

Chapter 16: ‘Wake Up To Breakup’


Buffy woke with a start and bolted up in the bed. She’d had a nightmare, not her first certainly, but it must have been a a horrific one. Her heart was thumping in her chest, only slow and heavy, but pounding so loudly that she could hear it in her own ears. An unfamiliar clock, above an unfamiliar faux fireplace mantel winked at her; 3:00 AM!

“Where, where am I?” she gasped, terrified.

“With me, luv,” came a British accent in the dark, “remember?”

Then she did begin to remember. Two warm arms wrapped around her, not Angel’s, that was for sure. This was ‘his,’ William’s arms; smaller, but somehow stronger arms that embraced her.

“What is it, Princess,” he cooed, concerned, “bad dream?” Buffy nodded against his chest as she clung to him like a frightened child.

“My daddy left again,” she whispered just like a little girl, “Hank, my daddy, he left mama and me, again.”

Spike clasped his vulnerable little bundle to him, as closely as he could.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of her head, “you’re safe, ‘I’m’ certainly not leaving.”

He felt her timid smile against his neck and truly hated himself for the harsh words he had spoken before. The threats, the tear inducing curses that had finally broken her and sent her back to their shared bed.

‘Jesus, Spike, you’re a real bastard,’ William taunted him. ‘I can’t lose her, not now,’ Spike hissed back at his softer, gentler alter ego.

Buffy snuggled into him, her warm breasts against his chest; her naked slim hips against his.

“I like it when you’re nice, William,” she murmered in his neck, “you remind me of my Will that I knew years ago.”



“Only for you, Princess,” he mumbled against her forehead, “I’m only that Will for you. You bring out the out the ‘ better side’ in me, Buffy, always have.”

She nuzzled into him even further, “Will,” she murmered, “will you sing to me. I know you like to sing and you have such a nice voice. Will you sing me back to sleep, please?”

Buffy sounded like a small child, even to herself and she hoped he wouldn’t chide her for it. He didn’t.

“Kay,” he answered, “I’ll sing for you Buffy. What do you want me to sing?”

With her eyes still half closed, she began to rock against him, “don’t care,” she giggled softly, “just sing something pretty, like you.”

(okay, I’m going out on a limb here, with a nod to the ‘Foo Fighters’ and a hey ya to David Groh)

Spike stroked Buffy’s head tenderly and began to sing so softly that it almost came out as a whisper:

‘Hello, I’ve waited here for you, Everlong
Tonight, I throw myself into and out of my head
Out of her head she sang’

‘Come down and waste away with me, down with me
Slow how, you wanted it to be, I’m over my head, out
Of her head she said’

‘And I wonder, when I sing along with you…if everything
could feel this real forever, if anything could ever be
this good again’

Breathe out, so I can breathe you in, hold you in; and
How I wanted to begin, out of my
Head, out of her head she sang

‘The only thing I’ll ever ask of you
You’ve got to promise not to stop when I say when,
She sang’

He noticed by the third stanza that Buffy had dropped off to sleep, her little soft kitten sounds echoed about them in the darkened room.

However, he couldn’t help himself, he just had to continue the song, whispering it into her ear as she slept. He only hoped that she somehow heard it in her sleep and knew how true those lyrics were, to him anyway.

Spike heard the music that came from the alarm clock on the end table next to the bed he shared with Buffy.

“Oh bloody hell,” he muttered, ‘Easy Listening music.” The alarm radio face show ‘7:00 AM’ and he realized that she would have to go soon. Her house staff would be back and she couldn’t possibly show up in that wrinkled little sundress in front of them.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he glanced over at her, his Buffy, with her honey blond hair fanned out on the pillow.

“She’s even beautiful in the morning,” he sighed, “all shagged out and tired from arguing.”

He snorted and shook his head, “you are truly fucked now, Spike Giles,” he told himself, “you’ll never, ever be able to let her go.”

Buffy woke up to William’s kisses on her forehead, her nose and finally her mouth

“I’m all icky, Will,” she whimpered, still half asleep. “I need to wash my teeth and my…oh my God!” she noticed the time on the clock. “I’ve got to go, William!” she cried frantically as she hopped out of bed and began to gather up her clothing.

“Stay,” she heard his whispered plea.

“Can’t,” she replied, almost reluctantly, “gotta’ get home. Maggie and Jenny are due back before 9:00 and I can’t sashay into my house like this.”

She slipped the little red sundress on quickly and sat to pull on her sandals.

“I have to go, Will,” she stated as she grabbed her purse. “It’s after 7:30 AM and by the time I get home to Sunnydale it’ll be almost 8:30. I can’t stay another minute.”

Buffy tried not to look at ‘him’ as she scurried about to collect her things. She had to get home. Although her house staff seemed to prefer her to Angel, she was sure she’d get more then a dissaproving look if she meandered into the Traver’s household wrinkled, beat out and looking totally ‘shagged’ this early in the morning.

When she’d gathered up her belongings, Buffy glanced back at William, still in bed, a look of abandonment on his face. “I have to go, William,” she said, “I’ve no choice, really I don’t.”

Spike got up from the bed, totally naked, like before and strode up to his lover.

“I know you have to go,” he murmered, “but I don’t have to like it.”

He kissed her forehead, again and drew her to him, “I want you to hear something, Buffy.” She looked up at him, wide eyed and attentive.

“You need to answer me, and make sure you understand where I’m coming from,” he told her. “First off,” he began, “let’s get it straight, I’m in control here, right?”

Yes, she nodded, wordlessly.

“Second, you are cutting those bloody jerks loose, immediately” Another nod from her. “Third, this thing between us,” he said firmly, “it’s far from over, understood?”

Buffy stared him straight in the eye, “yes, William, I understand.”

Before she could pull away, Spike buried his face into her soft hair, “see me tonight, Buffy.”

Although he worded it like a command, it came out like a plea and Buffy quickly responded with a shake of her head.

“I can’t, William, please don’t ask. If you want me to ‘cut them loose’ as you put it, I’ll have to do it tonight or tomorrow. Angel comes back Saturday night, remember?”

He nodded, he remembered all too well. She was right, as much as he wanted to see her, right away, she did have to figure out how to get rid of those morons and before Peaches blew back into town.

“Okay, Princess,” he sighed, “you’re right. You need some rest and time alone to put your house in order.”

Spike ‘was’ pretty sure Buffy was already making plans to kiss off all of the three amigos but he still felt let down about not seeing her that night.

Then a jealous thought struck him, ‘she better not be kissing any of those fucks!’

“You know,” he said, pondering something, “you could tell the ‘boys’ that you’re afraid that Angel is on to you. Wouldn’t be too far from the truth, luv.”

As he brushed her hair back from her face, he thought he saw a sadness in her eyes.

“Yeah,” she answered, “I’ll think about that.

“And Buffy,” he called out as she opened the door, “don’t be getting any ideas about a goodbye shag with any of them. Not even a kiss goodbye. Got it, cos’ I’m going to ask, know that.”

She didn’t even turn around to look at him, just nodded that she understood and whispered “Bye, Will,” and she was gone from the room.

Spike never felt more miserably alone in his entire life then at that moment.

Buffy sped along the highway that led back into Sunnydale. If she kept up her current speed, didn’t get stopped by a cop or highway patrolman, she’d be okay. With a a glance at the car radio clock, she saw that she had more then enough time to get home, strip off her clothes, start a load of laundry and jump in the shower before Maggie and Jenny got back from their day off.

“I can do this,” she chanted as she pulled into her driveway at precisely 8:30 AM. Without even locking her Camaro doors or checking the messages on her answering machine, she tore off her clothes and dumped them into the washing machine.

She ran, literally, up the stairs into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

After a quick shower, she toweled off and heard the voice of Maggie call out, “Mrs. We’re home.” With a sigh of relief, Buffy pulled on a silky robe and went down to greet her house servants.

After she welcomed home Maggie and Jenny, Buffy staggered upstairs to her room. She’d told both of the staff that she had the beginnings of a migraine and they were more then sympathetic.

“You need to get upstairs and into bed, Mrs.” Maggie advised, “we’ll get everything in order down here.”

Buffy lay in her marital bed, alone and feeling more then guilty for the last few hours she had spent with Will. Her private message machine blinked with three messages and she hit the listen button with reluctance.

“Hi, babe, it’s me,” boomed her husband’s voice on the tape. “I guess you’re still out with Willow and her snuggle buddy, Tara, huh? I won’t be home until Monday morning, now. Something’s come up. Catch ya’ later, luv ya, Ang.”

Frantically, Buffy listened for the day and time of her husband’s message: Thursday…8:30 PM.

“Something’s come up my ass,” she snorted, “I’ll just bet ‘something’s’ come up.”

Actually, she was relieved, Angel had called her last night, fairly early and she was more then covered. Even if he ever brought it up to Willow or Tara, which Buffy doubted, she was safe. No doubt the two women would cover for her. The only thing was, soon she’d have to explain herself to the two girlfriends, especiaclly if she continued to use them to cover her indiscretions.

“Make that indiscretion,” she corrected herself. After the edict by ‘William’ there would be no more plural in of the illicit affairs. Which, led her to ponder…how was she going to break off the ‘situations’ with Connor, Xander and Riley?

Actually, Riley was going to be the easiest, Buffy had no doubt about that. He was the same man/boy she’d known in High School; arrogant, egotistical and more then anything, afraid to rattle the status quo. With his wedding to Cordelia coming up soon, he would probably be relieved to cut any ties with Buffy, or anyone else for that matter. A simple cell phone call to him, and he’d be history; she was sure of that.

“Riley Finn,” she requested, all business like to the nameless secretary that answered his phone.

“Finn,” came the deep voice on the other end. “Hi, Riley, it’s Buffy Travers,” she stated lightly.

“Hey, Buff,” he sounded happy yet somewhat apprehensive. “Where you been, I thought maybe we could, you know, hook up again?”

“Oh, shit,” she hissed silently, then answered out loud, “uhm, I’ve been around.”

She tried hard to sound breezy and nonchalant, but there was an uncomfortable silence on the phone between them. Finally, she sighed and said, “Riley, we need to talk.”

If he was concerned, he did his best not to express it, but Buffy was sure she heard him mumble something like ‘shit’ or something like it.

“I mean,” she continued quickly, “I think we better call it quits, permantly, don’t you?”

If relief could be recorded and transferred by AT & T, then Riley would be imbedded in telephone history, right there with ‘Mr. Watson.’

“Wow,” he exclaimed somewhat stunned, “I mean, just like that?”

Buffy stifled a giggle, “just like that, Riley. I mean, you ‘are’ going to marry Cordy soon and I don’t think she’d like what we’ve been up to one bit, do you?”

Well, he couldn’t help but agree with that, so with mutual ‘take cares’ to each other; that was that.

Buffy clicked the off button on her cell phone and sighed in relief herself.

“That was easier then I thought,” she told herself. “I just hope Connor and Xander are that simple.”

Connor was supposed to come by on Saturday, their regular meeting time to ‘swim’ and spend quality time with each other. When he showed up, he was surprised to find the Traver’s staff apparently back from their Holidays, merely out on errands. He appeared even more surprised to be led to Buffy’s front living room to ‘talk.’

“Connor,” she began carefully as she handed him a Coke in the can, “I think we need to get some things cleared up.”

After Buffy had begun the ‘swan song’ her explainations became increasingly easier. Angel and her, were married and committed to each other. Connor and her, had been a foolish indiscretion that could ruin not only her own marriage but his relationship with Dawn. That is if anyone found out about it; which ‘could’ happen if they kept it going. This really got the young man’s attention.

“Okay, Buffy,” he responded, seemingly more concerned about getting caught then upset over their affair’s end.

“Yeah, I get it, Buffy,” he nodded slowly, not much expression in his voice or eyes.

Buffy patted Connor’s boney shoulder, regretting that she’d even brought him into this mess. Connor was a good kid, and this whole thing was her fault, she couldn’t fool herself.

“Oh, and Connor,” she continued, “I think you better call me Mrs. Travers, again, from now on. Especially in front of Angel, Dawn and pretty much everyone else.”

Apparently, the young man understood because he gave her a nod of agreement and stood up to leave. Young Connor recognized a dismissal when he saw one.

“Oh,” he turned at the door, “thanks, Mrs. Travers,” he smiled softly, “you know, for everything.”

If he was sad, he didn’t show it; he left the Travers household whistling some song Buffy had never heard before.

With Angel still out of town, Buffy had an extra day to plan for the ‘death blow’ of the Bander (yes I had to throw that moniker in here) affair. Xander was certainly going to be the hardest to deal with, she had no doubt about that either.

He was certainly going to be the most painful break, for her at least. Even though she had gone into these ‘affairs’ with a thirst for vengence on Angel, Cordy and anyone else involved; she still ‘knew’ that this was all wrong. Just wrong on so many levels and not really her, not the real Buffy Summers she had been raised as. Not anymore, anyway.

She knew Xander, if no one else involved, truly had feelings for her and breaking it off with him was not going to be pretty. As bad as she had felt about Connor, Buffy was even sorrier she ever got poor, sweet Xander involved in any of this God awful mess.

Buffy had called Xander at his construction company on Saturday morning. She used discretion, as always, and called him on his cell phone, however. He agreed, a little too easily for her taste, to come to her house on Sunday morning for brunch. On Saturday, before Maggie and Jenny left for their errands, Buffy informed them that she wouldn’t need them until Monday morning and encouraged them to go visit their families; not to bother to return home until Sunday night at the earliest.

If the two women suspected anything out of the ordinary, they said nothing; just accepted their employer’s generosity, once again, with thanks. Saturday night, alone in her and Angel’s bed, Buffy lay for hours and just thought about the next day. Xander would have to be handled gently; Buffy didn’t want to hurt him unnecessarily. The problem was, she knew no matter how tenderly she dealt with this break up, it wasn’t going to be painless for either of them. Even though she never loved Xander in that way, she did care for him deeply; just never how ‘he’ wanted her to.

At just past midnight, still unable to sleep, Buffy could swear she heard the sound of a Harley pass by her house. The engine seem to idle nearby.

“A Harley?” she asked out loud to the air, perplexed, “In this neighborhood?’

Sunday morning dawned clear and sunny, but even the lovely sunrise did little to brighten Buffy’s mood. She had lay awake, most of the night, trying to figure out just how to let Xander down in the most painless way possible. The problem was, she’d concluded, there was ‘no way’ to make it painless.

If Xander had been a stranger even, or even a mere acquaintance, it wouldn’t have mattered how or why she broke it off; but he was Xander for God’s sake. Her like second bestest friend in the entire world, for years? What the hell had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking, she also concluded by the time Xander rang the front door bell.

When Buffy opened the front door, it was apparent that Xander knew that the house staff was gone. He pushed through the door and swooped her off of her feet in a strong embrace.

Pulling her into a kiss, he groaned, “God Buff, I’ve missed you so much.”

Buffy felt physically ill. If she felt remorse before this, now she felt like a guilt ridden axe murderer.

“Xander,” she gasped, the air knocked out of her lungs, momentarily, by his bear hug, “put me down. We have to talk.”

She half pulled, half pushed away from him in the process. Xander looked confused, but he set her down gently on the couch in the living room; the same one their whole ‘affair’ had started on.

“What’s wrong, Buffy?” he stammered, “something’s wrong. What is it?”

That classic Xander Harris ‘puppy dog look’ in his eyes damn near did her in right there.

Buffy put her hand up in front of him, just to stop him from asking anymore questions.

“Don’t,” she ordered gently, not able to look him in the eye. “Just sit and listen, just for a sec, kay?”

When she finally got the strength to look at him she saw the concern and insecurity in his chocolate brown eyes.

“Xander,” she began, cautiously, “uhm, something’s happened. At least, I think it has,” she finished, daring another glance at him.

“Like what, Buffy?” he asked quietly.

“Well,” she began again, “I, uhm, have reason to think that Angel may suspect me of being involved with someone, you know?”

Xander looked terrified, for a moment, then he sat up straight and gave Buffy an ‘in charge’ kind of brave look. This ‘new man’ expression on Xander Harris would have been comical, if it hadn’t been to damn pathetic.

“Well,” he said slowly, “maybe that’s a good thing, Buffy. Yeah. It is a good thing,” he shot her a studly kind of grin. “It might make things easier, you know? You can tell him you want out of the marriage, it’s obvious that you’re not happy. We, you and me, can have a fresh start together! In LA, maybe!”

He looked at her, searching her face for some sign of encouragement or hope. Buffy stared back at him, dully, hoping that her dismal expression showed him that there was ‘no’ hope.

“Angel isn’t going to ‘go for it’ Xander,” she whipsered sadly, looking away from him.

“In fact, he’ll never allow me to leave. Actually,” she stared straight into those black, deep eyes, “he’ll see us both dead first. I mean before he ever lets me…..”

Xander jumped up from the couch and began to pace about like a nervous cat.

“Bullshit!” he cried, “we can go away together, Buffy. We can start up fresh, like I said before. Angel won’t find us and we can be you know, together.”

For all of his macho posturing, Xander’s last rambling rather petered out, pathetically and ended on a weak note.

“It’s over, Xander,” she stated in a quiet but firm tone.

Xander came back to the couch and just flopped down on it, next to her, totally defeated.

“So,” he muttered, “you won’t even try? Go to Angel, tell him that…..” his sentenced died off when he saw her shake her head slowly, “no,” she stated simply.

“I won’t go to him and hand him any ammunition against you, me or my marriage. Xander,” she turned to him, real tears trickled down her cheeks, “no matter what happened between you and me, I still love Angel and I do want to work out my marriage.”

He started to say something, but she shushed him with a finger to his lips, “you need to move on, Xand. Find someone who deserves you, it’s certainly not me.”

Something deep inside Buffy hoped that Willow might change her mind and return to Xander, though she doubted it.

“I better go, huh?” he asked in a shakey voice. Buffy could only nod, yes in response.

“Okay, Buffy,” he mumbled and stood up to leave. She braved a look into his eyes and saw some moisture there, “I’m sorry, Xander,” she whispered, “I’m truly sorry for everything.”

Xander nodded slowly, “I know Buffy, I just wish that we could maybe go someplace else, you and me, and you know, like I said.”

He sadly shook his head, “guess not, huh?” Buffy couldn’t look at him, but she shook her head to tell him ‘no’ once and for all. Before she could look at him, he’d reached the front door, “bye Buffy,” he choked out in a soft sob.

“Bye Xand,” she called back, her eyes closed.

When the door closed behind him, she allowed herself to curse William out loud, “damn you Spike!” she hissed, using his loathsome nickname, “right now I truly despise you!”

A/N: Okay, so I wrote Xander a bit sympathetically; I like Xander, just not with Buffy. Spike and Buffy belong together, really, but of course, you all must think that too, you’re here, right! Thanks, Spuf


 

Chapter 17: ‘Beach Interlude’


After all of the drama of the past two days, Buffy just had to get out of her own house. Just get in her car and drive somewhere. So, now, after changing into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, she grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and shoved them in her purse.

The Camaro purred all the way out to the shoreline of the Pacific. If she remembered right, there was a neat little hamburger stand just off the highway, a little north of the pier.

“Yup,” she giggled, “there it is.” She bought a huge hamburger, all the fixings and some fries, but no soda of any kind. The beer was still cold in her purse and she drove further up the coast to a place she recalled from childhood. Daddy used to bring her and her mom here during the summer. It was off the beaten track of the state beaches and near to some cliffs; there were tide pools close by. At least, there used to be.

Buffy pulled the Camaro over to the side of highway; grabbed the food and purse and scurried over the highway to the other side. It was almost sunset by now, the sky was a rainbow of pinks, blues and purples as the sun began it’s descent into the Pacific.

She pulled off her sandals and let her feet mush into the fine sand of the shore. The sand squeezed up between her red painted toes, still warm from the afternoon heat. It felt wonderful.

She had brought a beach towel, she always kept a clean one in the car and dropped it on the beach, close to the water. There was no one else in sight; she supposed because it was still fairly early in the season and the teens that inhabited the night hadn’t started coming out just yet. Or maybe it was because this particular place always seemed isolated and lonely. That’s why, even years earlier she had loved it so.

The hamburger was good, but hard to finish, especially since her tummy was pretty upset from all of the melodrama earlier in the day. Although she couldn’t finish her supper, she popped open a beer and half downed it in one or two gulps.

“Mmmmm,” she sighed as she half lay, half sat up on her elbows on the gaudy beach towel. The beer was cold and numbing, just the medicine she needed. It didn’t however, keep the vision of Xander’s brown eyes, showing his tears, his hurt, yes even ‘her’ betrayal.

“I’m sorry Xander,” she murmered as she watched the sun fall closer to the water, “I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. You deserved better treatment, especially from me. Please forgive me,” she whispered to the air.

Buffy took another swig from the bottle, momentarily forgetting what a lightweight she truly was when it came to alcohol. Whether it was the single beer, a figment of her imagination or really ‘nature’ at play, Buffy sat up abruptly when she spied some movement out a ways in the water.

“Dophins!” she cried enthusiastically, forgetting Xander, and everything else instantly.

“Freakin’ Dolphins!” There they were! Leaping out of the water, chasing each other in the waves.

She jumped up and practically danced around watching the display from the clowns of the sea. It looked like at least fifteen or so of the darling creatures frolicking about in the water and Buffy found herself weeping from the excitement of it. She hadn’t seen Dolphins since daddy had taken them to Sea World in San Diego, ages ago; those Dolphins were in tanks, these were free and wild.

“Damn!” she exclaimed with regret, “wish I had a camera!” The Dolphins were beautiful, gray, white and sleek. They leapt higher each time they came out of the water, and she swore she could hear their laughter from where she stood. However, it was only moments before they frolicked their way off down south and out of sight.

Buffy suddenly felt very sad and alone on the desolate beach and decided maybe it was time to go home. To what, she wasn’t sure, but she knew she needed to just get home.

“Maybe Maggie and/or Jenny will come home tonight,” she brightened up, “we can play gin or some other card game! Maybe watch some TV together!”

She began to collect her trash and things, but caught sight of a large pink cloud in the sky. It was just huge, fluffy and the color of cotton candy.

“Wow!” she cried happily, “that’s beautiful!” While she was watching the cloud saunter off south, after the Dolphins, she felt a chill and a series of tingles shoot up and down her arms.

“You sure are, Princess,” came William’s voice from behind her.

“Ohhh,” she groaned with a whine and roll of her eyes, “now my evening ‘is truly’ complete.”

Buffy spun around to confirm her worst fears, William had followed her to the beach! Before he could utter a word, she went on the offensive, “what the hell are you doing here!” she cried, throwing him a look to kill.

“Jesus, Princess,” he chuckled as he stepped nearer to her, “calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Just came to make sure my girl was okay.”

She backed away from him to avoid his outstretched arms.

“I’m not your girl,” she said, bitterly, “I’m just your whore, remember?”

William’s jovial expression suddenly changed into a clenched jaw, his eyes became dangerous looking slits of golden fire.

“You,” he began in that deadly ‘stern Spike’ voice of his, “are not my whore. You,” he continued as he closed the distance, once again, between them, “are my lover, now.”

When he’d closed the distance between them, he pulled her body flush up against his own and tried, unsuccessfully to kiss her.

The little bitch actually pushed him away, again. Spike couldn’t believe it; she was rebuking, him, after everything that they’d talked about and done just two days earlier.

By the time he had pulled himself together, somewhat, Buffy was storming off in a huff down the beach towards her car. He stalked off after her, breaking into a run after she did. About twenty yards later, he literally tackled her to the ground and almost rolled them both into the cold, foamy water.

“Let me go,” she cried, pummeling his chest with her tiny fists. She was on top of him at first, but when he flipped her over onto her back and pinned her down, she gave up the struggle.

“Go away,” she sobbed softly, “I don’t want you here, William. I really can’t stand you right now so, please just leave me alone.”

She choked out the last part of the sentence while hot tears poured down her warm cheeks.

“No,” he stated, a mulish expression on his face, “not going anywhere.” Spike had followed her, but just to be sure she was okay and, ‘bloody hell; she was his girl!’

Buffy’s tears and rejection of him cut deeper then he cared to admit or show, so he covered his hurt with his patent defensive anger.

“What the fuck was Xander Harris doing at your house today?”

She looked at him as if he were a monster, insane or a bit of both, her face a mix of shock and anger.

“You’re still stalking me?” she asked, stunned.

“Never mind that,” he ordered, sternly, “just answer my question; what was Harris doing at your house today?”

A strong wave of jealousy washed over Spike as he thought, ‘if she gave him a goodbye shag or even a kiss, I swear to God I’ll hunt him down and rip his fucking throat out!’

“Answer me, Buffy,” he commanded, his eyes bore into her like lazers, no way was he going to let her out of this one.

“You, you told me to end it with them,” she stammered with a slight tremble, “that’s what I did. Xander, I had to see him, face-to-face, to say goodbye. You told me to. I did it.”

He noticed her voice sounded frightened, almost childish and he felt ashamed of himself for scaring her. He wanted to console her for some reason, but his baser nature again got the best of him and he continued his merciless interrogation.

Buffy watched Spike and knew he was ‘trying’ to reign in a jealous rage, but failing miserably. It would have been almost funny, if she hadn’t been so damned pissed at him. This ‘bastard’ had no business following her around like a damn bomb sniffing dog and that was exactly what he was doing.

He disengaged his arms from her, sat up and dug into his jacket for a cigarette, she assumed. Yes, he brought out a smoke and lit it, his hand shaking ever so slightly from some left over anger.

‘Why’s he so angry?’ she wondered as she followed suit and sat up slowly, ‘he’s the one told me to break it off with them?’

William never took his eyes off of her, just sat smoking, watching her intently, waiting for a more elaborate answer to his profane question, she presumed.

“You said to break it off, William. Like I said, I did,” she whispered, “I thought you wanted me to……”

He interjected hoarsely, “I wanted you to call him and break it off, not take him home give him a pity fuck, Buffy.”

She glared at him with a murderous look, but it was lost on him. At this time he wasn’t even looking at her, just staring out at the ocean.

“God,” she spat at him, “you really are an insecure bastard, aren’t you?” Now it was his turn to look shocked and betrayed.

“I did not ‘shag, fuck, kiss or even hug’ him goodbye, William,” she hissed, “I just kissed him off, like you said, but, I, I hurt him, Will.” One lone, silent tear betrayed her remorse as it slipped gently down her cheek. She followed his gaze out to the ocean and continued quietly, “I used him and hurt him. He truly cared about me. He cried,” she finished, totally ashamed of herself by now.

If she expected some tenderness or compassion, Buffy was sadly mistaken, instead, William turned on her, his face now burning red with rage, a look of murder in his eyes.

“You know better,” he growled as he grasped her wrists tightly, causing pain to shoot up her arms, "then to ever call me that bloody name!”

If looks could have killed, Buffy would have been dead, she just knew it. But instead of backing down, she raised her voice even louder and repeated the word again.

“Why shouldn’t I call you a bastard Will?” she hissed, smugly, “you really are, aren’t you?”

Spike took a deep breath and forced himself to not physically wipe that smug little expression right off of the bitch’s pretty face. He swallowed, hard, and looked evenly into her now emerald green eyes, “yeah, you’ve got me there, Princess,” he began, so calmly that it surprised even him, “and you’ve behaved like a true fucking whore lately, but you don’t see me calling you that, do you?”

He finished with a harsh mutter, but did not let loose of her wrists; just smirked at her evilly and this knocked the wind out of her sails a minute or two. Buffy looked away from him, red faced, the fresh tears began to silently fall down her face. She could only nod slightly, at first, but she finally found her voice.

“You’re right,” she whispered sadly, “you can’t help what happened between your mom and dad, wasn’t your fault. But me,” she shook her head and began to sob, “I could control becoming a whore, but I did it anyway.” She began to sob uncontrollably and buried her face into William’s firm chest.

“I’m so sorry, Will,” she choked out between sobs, “sorry I called you that name, I know how it hurts you. And like I said I’m still behaving like a whore, now I’m your whore. All’s I’ll ever be, I think.”

Her crys turned to wails as she literally wrapped herself in Will’s arms and burrowed into him. For his part, she finally noticed between sobs, he was doing his best to shush and comfort her, another big surprise in the last few days; Will could truly be compassionate.

He was mumbling something about her not being a whore, just sad and lonely, even a bit fucked up, but not a whore, especially not a whore to him.

“Buffy, luv,” he cooed as he pulled her chin up to face him, “let’s be honest, here,” he wiped some tears from her face and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Xander, the others,” he said softly, “you may have used them, but the truth is, they all knew you were married. They knew better, too. No one can put all of the blame on just you.”

Spike could feel and see that his comfort was having an affect on her. Buffy was visibly calming down, digesting his words and actually considering them. He was pleased with himself for many reasons. After all of those years, dancing around each other, the games, the bullshit, the harsh and snarky words to each other, Buffy was beginning to really ‘listen’ to him when he tried to be somehow positive with her.

It was hard for both of them, he knew that, to change the way they dealt with each other, but they just had to. This relationship depended on her forming a trust for him, even if it started kind of skewed in that respect. The opposite was true, also, he had to begin to trust her, even if it meant ‘making her’ come to him at first, any way he had to. Spike was confident enough to feel that his plan for Buffy and himself would work, even if it took a lifetime.

“Buffy, sweetheart,” he murmered as he ran his finger down her adorable nose gently, “you should see the color of your eyes!”

He caught himself in a near giggle, but it was funny. Her eyes were the color of a green eyed, pissed off cat that had just been woken up.

“You know,” he chuckled, cuddling her close to him, stroking her hair, “I’ve wondered for years, just what color your eyes really are.”

He swept his left hand over her forehead to lift the bangs from her damp eyes, “finally figured it out.” She half smiled up at him, curiosity getting the best of her, ‘yup, just like a cat,’ he chuckled inwardly.

“They’re the color of the sea, Buffy,” he told her with a quick kiss on her cheek. “You see,” he pointed out to the Pacific, “when you’re even slightly scared, your eyes are greyish or hazel. Like the ocean when a storm’s coming.”

Buffy looked out at the water and then back at him, her right eyebrow cocked up, puzzled. “Yeah,” he went on to explain, this time looking right in her eyes, “when you’re angry, or defensive, they get opaline green, like now. And Buffy,” he finished, huskily, “when you’re cummin’ they’re the color of emeralds.” Spike leaned into her mouth and kissed her lips, tenderly with his.

“Oh, Will. You always have known me best, haven’t you?” she whispered, her voice husky like his. Buffy just didn’t have any response to throw back at Will, he’d completely floored her once again. This guy was such a paradox, always had been, but it still never ceased to amaze her.

She knew, of course, about his poetic leanings. Even in High School, when she had been more privy to William’s inner most feelings and thoughts, she’d known, if no one else did. William Giles kept a journal; one that he ‘used’ to write in. Poetry, his thoughts and such, even some of his drawings were in that journal, ‘at least once’ she thought, with regret. She was pretty sure that ‘Spike’ hadn’t been writing in that journal in a long, long while; that his poetic nature had been dormant for some time.

“Buffy,” he murmered his eyes huge and indigo colored as they bore into her. “Yes, I have always known the real you, even if ‘you’ don’t. Or if no one else does, either,” he added quickly.

She nodded in agreement, “I suppose you’re right,” she finished with some reluctance.

“Buffy,” he mumbled shyly, “will you come home with me, tonight, please?”

Her heart jumped to her throat and once again she had to catch her breath and ponder exactly what she wanted. Part of her really did want to go, knowing it was past foolish, dangerously risky and completely stupid on her part.

The ‘sane’ Buffy decided instanly, however, that it was just not the right time, if it would ever be, for that step.

“I can’t,” she sighed, sincerely sorry, “my staff, they’re supposed to come home tonight. I just can’t, Will, it’s just too, you know, well, not the right thing. Not now, maybe not ever.”

He looked terribly dissapointed, but she noted he was ‘not angry’ with her and she was grateful for that.

William stood up, abruptly, and swooped her up from the sand in his arms. Before she could say a word or ask questions, he strode off with her to some rocks up against a rather large cliff. He sat down with her still in his arms; it always amazed her, how strong he was. Although he was not near as tall as Angel, or some other guys she knew, he was always the strong one, ‘in more ways then one,’ she thought ruefully.

Finally, he stood her on her feet, plopped himself down on the sand in front of a large rock and pulled her down into his lap. She watched in a daze while he unzipped her jeans and slipped them down her thighs, just enough to give him access to his apparent target, the crotch of her panties.

“What are you……” but she couldn’t finish, he stifled her question with another kiss.

“Just making ‘my lover’ feel good, sweetheart,” he purred into her ear. “I just want you to feel good, we don’t have to have sex, just want to make you feel special. Like you are, Princess.”

His words were so soft, gentle and enthralling that Buffy melted into his body. She buried her face into his neck and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. Will was doing some amazing things with his hand and fingers to her, down there and Buffy just allowed herself to concentrate on the wonderful feelings he was envoking in her.

“Like that?” he whispered into her ear, giving it a little nibble.

“Uh huh,” she purred back, her eyes half closed, her lips seperated just slightly. He kissed her mouth, almost chastely and she could feel his lips form a happy grin. Not a Spike smirk, but a real pleased William smile.

“See,” he whispered, huskily peppering her face with those lovely kisses, “I want my lover to cum for me and be happy. Because that’s what you are to me, Buffy. My lover.” His final statement ended anymore conversation about ‘that’ for the night and Buffy let herself float into an orgasm.

When she came, Spike properly pulled up her jeans and zipped them back up for her. Buffy seemed almost in a daze, he thought, secretly pleased with himself.

“Oh,” she whispered again, hazily, “I mean, is that it?” He laughed out loud, “for tonight anyway,” he responded, dropping another kiss on her forehead.

“No!” she cried, “I mean it was great, but I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t make ‘you’ happy, you know?” she asked with a blush.

“You always ‘do it’ for me, Princess,” he chuckled, “even when you don’t ‘do’ anything, okay?” She thought she understood, but she wasn’t sure.

“You mean, like I get you, you know, horny?” she asked shyly, bright red now.

“Yes, like I’m horny, and it’s okay, cos’ I know you’ll ‘take care of me next time. Like I said, I meant it, baby, I just wanted you to be ‘happy’ tonight. It’s enough somehow.”

She nodded, numbly, “okay, Will,” she giggled into his neck. “Thank you, Will,” she added, her little girl tone coming out again, “I do need to get home. Maggie and Jenny will probably be back any time now and I just can’t walk in and face them like this. You know, all ‘happy’ and all with Angel out of town.”

Spike could feel his face darken and his smile turn to a slow frown at the mention of that prick Angel. He changed the subject quickly, “when ‘can’ I see you Buffy?” he asked hopefully.

“I don’t know, Will,” she answered honestly, worrying her bottom lip with her blunt little white teeth. Although Angel’s name hung between them like a cloud, he noticed she didn’t mention ‘him’ again.

“I’ll have to see what I can work out. Is that okay?” she asked, peering at him anxiously and unsure.

All of him wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, “No! That’s not fucking okay. I’ll decide when you ‘can and will see me!’ But he decided to just shut his mouth for once and bide his time on this one. He honestly believed, right at that moment that Buffy would try her best to see him as soon as possible.

 

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