Never
Buffy's mind never wandered during sex with Spike.
Afterward was when the problem was, and it just kept getting worse. She had been lingering more and more, finding that she didn't really want to leave. Staying minutes turned into hours, and as the months had gone by the hot and violent quickies began to phase themselves out. Instead, she found herself spending more nights at the crypt. She tried to spend time with Dawn after the shoplifting debacle, but that just led to missing him more in the days and making a habit of coming in late to the crypt to make up for it.
This increasing amount of lingering meant more time to think, more time in which she was almost forced to contemplate their relationship. A few months ago, just attaching that word – relationship – with all the baggage and pain it represented…that would have been too much. But now it seemed more bearable, or at least inescapable. They were in a relationship, even if nobody else knew except for Tara.
Whatever this new thing was, it had started at Buffy's birthday party. Somehow, seeing him there, bruised from wound she'd inflicted but still annoying and sweet and sexy and not walking away…it was like the last straw. Somehow, in her mind, she'd assumed – subconsciously, maybe – that she'd treat him badly enough and he'd leave. That would be par for the course in Buffyworld. Instead, he'd stayed, and almost refused to mention the incident.
They had put up with a lot of shit from each other, and somehow she felt like their relationship had been healthier back when each wanted the other dead. The last couple of months, though, had been so much better – less denial and anger from her, less pushiness and control from him. She didn't know what had prompted his change; for her, it was seeing how much she could do to him and he still wouldn't leave her. How easy it would be to continue taking advantage of him, a man so stupidly in love that she could beat the crap out of him and he'd just take it. And it was scary to think that she would almost let him do the same to her.
She never had these mushy kind of thoughts during sex. Actually, she didn't think her brain was involved much at all, but then she'd never really finished Psych 101 thanks to her extremely evil and later dead professor. What thoughts she did have were generally along the lines of yes more there yes, and even those were difficult to articulate.
Spike never asked her what she was thinking about after, and she might not have told him even if he did. It was too much to admit that she was thinking about him in ways she rarely allowed herself to outside of those stolen moments. Distinctly…boyfriendy ways.
After a particularly long session, she collapsed on top of him, too tired and boneless and sated to move. The rise and fall of his chest was nice, if pointless, and he made this kind of contented hum that warmed her down to her toes. She sighed, deep and luxurious. Then she opened her mouth.
"I love you."
There was no way in hell that she'd really just said that. Had she said that? She hadn't even really thought it. Wandery Mind Buffy hadn't yet arrived – she was still too busy up there on cloud nine.
Based on the expression on Spike's face – a cross between winning the Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes and watching aliens land in the Bronze – she really had said it. She tried to cover. "I mean, I love this."
Now his expression was closer to a puppy that had resigned itself to getting kicked. She barely registered it, though, because Thinky Buffy was back in full force. She was suddenly remembering pre-party Buffy telling Tara she wasn't ready to come out. Yet. She couldn't remember if she'd actually said that or not, but she'd meant it in that moment. Like…one day, they'd be a real couple.
Like…she'd love him, eventually.
She'd accepted quietly last year that she could love Spike, back when that was a distant future, "if I live through this apocalypse" kind of thing. She hadn't lived through it, of course, and that had thrown a wrench in every work she had. What they'd had at the beginning, the fighting and the sex…that wasn't love. But maybe it was like a bit of it. A crumb.
Last week, she'd been a little scared when she got to the crypt and he wasn't there. She'd pictured a hundred ways for him to be gone, dust under her feet and she wouldn't even know. She hadn't cried until he showed up with a bottle tucked under his arm and an apologetic smile, and he didn't even ask her why. He just held her.
"No," she said, focusing on his face again. "I…I do love you. I love you."
Something about that, saying it so intentionally, felt scary and real and adult because she knew he wouldn't let go of it. He wasn't like Angel, who left even though she loved him. He wasn't like Riley, who left because he didn't believe that she loved him. Either way, with her love or without, Spike seemed determined to stay.
He was looking at her now the way he did when she came back to life; an almost transcendent expression, like someone hearing a symphony for the first time. It seemed to take him a second to recover, and when he finally was able to reply, his deep voice trembled. "I love you too, Buffy."
Buffy felt herself smiling. "I know."
