Chapter 11—Flowers in Full Bloom

To say Spike was shocked would be an under statement. He opened his mouth several times to say…something. But he closed it again when he couldn't force any sound past his throat.

"You look like a fish," Buffy observed.

Spike didn't even hear her. Did she really just say what he thought she said? Finally he found the one word that would work the best. "What?"

"You look like a fish? Oh, the other thing. Right. Spike, I…" She sighed, "Ok this is really hard to say. But I'm going to say it. I love you."

"You…love me?"

She nodded. "I do, Spike."

"Are you sure?"

She smiled, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Now come up here." But Spike didn't move. "Fine, I'll come down to you."

Buffy settled on the floor next to him. "You look pretty shocked."

"I am," Spike choked out. He kept replaying her words in his mind over and over, turning them over, examining them, approaching them from different angles. He was shocked, and he didn't quite believe her.

While he sat in shocked silence, she nuzzled his neck, reveling in his soft skin, that smelt slightly of soap and leather. She snuggled close to him, and he automatically wrapped an arm around her.

"You feel good," she sighed, delighted to be close to him. And oh god, he felt better than good. Tight, strong, safe.

"You too," he mumbled. Warm, lean yet soft, safe. "Love you, Buffy. But I'm…"

"You're what, Spike?"

I'm scared. I'm scared because you aren't supposed to love me, Slayer. You aren't supposed to love me, or want me, or protect me from the ones coming after me, because I don't have a soul. Right? Right?

"You're what, Spike?" She prompted gently.

I'm confused. I'm confused about what you want from me, and about what the First wants with me, and what am I supposed to do about Wood? And here you are, cuddling into my arms, and I don't know what to do about it, or if I should do anything.

I'm angry. Why can you love me now and not last year? What's so different? Beatings and hate, incriminations, accusations, love…what's so different now?

"Overwhelmed," he finally muttered.

She laughed a little. "Me too."

Spike knew he should be elated, overjoyed, but each second brought more churning emotions and bad memories. Anger, disgust, confusion, self-loathing, broken dreams, false hopes, and here she was in her arms, and things kept racing through his mind and suddenly he thought he was going to burst. He would explode in a harsh reds and hazy yellows, bright oranges and he would rage at her for….for what? Loving him?

Maybe that was enough. She certainly hated him for having the audacity, the amazing arrogance, to love her. And she wasn't shy about hurting his feelings. She didn't hide the black hate lurked just beneath the surface, an ugly twisted monster that could destroy him. Destroy them both.

"Spike? Spike what's wrong?"

He had vamped without realizing it, and now she was tense, naturally preparing for a fight. Maybe that was the problem. Their instincts, their most basic parts, longed for blood and destruction.

Spike shook his head, and the vampire visage faded away.

"Nothing." Spike jumped to his feet, leaving the startled slayer on the floor. "Absolutely nothing is wrong."

"I've only seen you pace like that when you're angry," she observed quietly.

"Well, maybe I'm angry then."

Buffy stood up slowly, weighing her options carefully. She knew it would be easy to match his anger with her own. It would be too easy, and it would probably result in poor pain that either could handle or deserved. She could try the mature thing and speak to him calmly…but she hadn't really done anything like that before. However, she knew instinctually that she would set the tone of the night, and maybe their lives, with her response.

Keeping her voice as calm as possible, she asked him why he was angry.

He stared at her and she watched his blue eyes shift and turn, unnamed emotions careening inside of him. She kept her eyes even with his, hoping that she appeared patient and not bitchy. She held her arms straight at her sides, instead of crossing them in front of her defensively.

"Buffy," he started, and then stopped. His mouth opened and closes as though he was trying to force sound past his lips, but couldn't.

"Is it something I said? Something I did? Is it Wood?"

"Yes…no…maybe, fuck Buffy. It hurts, ok?"

"What does?"

"Everything. You are not supposed to love me, Slayer."

"I'm confused, Spike. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"It was," he admitted, "It still is. But that doesn't change the fact that you aren't supposed to."

"Why aren't I, Spike?"

"The soul."

The word dropped between them like a dead body. Buffy felt as though she had been punched in the gut, and Spike looked as though he had been punched in the gut.

Spike waited for her to speak first. He may have just made an unforgivable blunder. He had just thrown her confession and their past in her face, and now, she may throw him out of the house. He wouldn't blame her.

Finally she said softly, so softly that he barely caught it, "I was wrong." She took a step forward. "I was wrong about you last year, and I'm sorry."

He sighed, "You don't need to apologize to me. But Buffy…" He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. "I feel all fucked up."

She slowly crossed the room and placed her hand on his arm. "Please, tell me Spike."

"When I got the soul, everything was bright. Harsh. Every emotion, every thought, every regret, every love, it was magnified, it burned me. And now it's gone, and I feel all burned out. Like there's nothing left inside of me, nothing more to give. I feel empty. Except…"

"Except?"

"Except when I'm with you," his voice cracked on the last word and he quickly glanced away. "And then…and then I feel everything and I don't know if I can handle it, and I don't know what to do."

She led him to the bed, and he sat down on the edge. "I don't know what to do," he repeated softly.

Buffy ached to help, but she didn't know what to do either. Would he let her embrace him? "Spike, that's how I felt too."

He looked at her, confused.

"Last year," she said, "when I came back. I felt numb, I couldn't feel anything. Except, except when I was with you, and then I could feel everything. And it scared me, and I acted out."

"We're quite a pair."

"Yes, yes we are."

"Buffy, I'm just scared of getting carried away and hurting you again. And I just can't take that risk."

"Spike, do you trust me?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment.

"Lay down, Spike."

He complied. She hovered over him, stroking his hair and face, running her fingers lightly across his cheeks. She bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on each eyelid.

"Spike, we don't have to do anything. We can just sleep, or we can talk, or we can do…whatever you want to do. But I want to help you."

Spike held her against his body, using his free hand to smooth her hair back from her face.

"Oh, Buffy. You don't need to do any more than you've already done."

"Spike, we're partners now. We've got each other's backs," she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. "We take care of each other."

"I'll take care of you," he vowed. "I've got your back."

She kissed him again, her hair falling forward and tickling his face, but he didn't mind. He didn't notice anything but her lips on his. "I know you do," she whispered against his lips. "I love you."

Buffy threw her leg over his waist, and straddled his hips. He reached down and pulled her shit up over her ribs, exposing her stomach and her breasts. His fingers lingered on her sensitive skin, and he traced tight circles on her sides, just missing her breasts. Before the kiss could deepen, Buffy sat up and pulled the shirt over her head. The bra quickly followed.

"Is this ok?" She murmured.

Spike nodded, and his hands continued their exploration. Moonlight filtered through the curtain, and both were satisfied with the gentle caresses. She fell into him again, their lips touching, pulling back, then connecting. Spike was scared to do anything other than kiss her back and rub his hands up and down her back. Feeling her strength, her velvety softness, she felt like silk and flowers beneath his hands, and he groaned into her mouth.

She smiled against his mouth, "Have we ever just made out before?"

He chuckled, "No, not really. We usually just skipped right to the shagging."

"Let's just do this for now, it's nice."

"No…problem."

He gripped her waist and held her against him, frightened to let her go, or lose any contact with her. He knew that the memories of last May were haunting both of them, tugging at their minds, trying to force them apart. But he couldn't let her go, and she wouldn't let him go.

Buffy began to unzip Spike's pants, but he stopped her. "Not tonight, baby."

She pouted, "Well, now I want to do more."

He caught her bottom lip and bit it gently. "I can think of something to hold you over." Quickly, he flipped her over and slid his hand beneath her pants. "You're wet."

Buffy nodded, "Very."

"You want me to touch you like this?"

"Please," she breathed.

He fingered her clit, and returned his attention to her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him, his mouth muffling her moans and pleas. But it was over quickly, her orgasm overtaking her in record time. She rocked against his hand, only partially satisfied, still craving him.

"Been awhile Slayer?"

"Hmmm mmmm." Buffy was already falling asleep, her arousal temporarily forgotten as the events of the night caught up with her.

"Let's put you to bed."

Spike stripped her of her pants, then lifted her in his arms long enough to pull the duvet down and lay her gently underneath. "Don't go," she muttered.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her. He crawled into bed and gathered her up in his arms, then wrapped his legs around hers. Her bum was pressed up against his still aroused cock, and he just knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

Despite that, he fell asleep quickly. The Slayer and her vampire stayed curled around each other like children, each holding the other possessively and lovingly.

~*~

"I don't think Wood should patrol with us anymore," Kennedy stated, as they were getting ready for bed. The shouting from Buffy's room had finally stopped, and so sleep was an actual possibility.

"Why not?" Willow asked.

"He's dangerous."

"More dangerous than Spike?"

"I know, I know. I still don't like the fact that we're living and working with a vampire, but I can respect Spike. He's good at what he does, and he won't get us killed."

"And you think Wood will?"

"He's so concerned with Spike that his number one priority is going after him, not watching his, or our, backs. I won't patrol with him anymore."

"Kennedy…"

"No, I'm telling Buffy tomorrow that I'll go or he does."

Willow shrugged. "If that's what you think is best."

"What did you think of Spike?"

"When?"

"Tonight when Wood tried to fight him."

"I think he did the right thing."

"I think Wood better be careful. Spike will break him two."

Willow looked thoughtful. "Spike could break him in two, but would he?"

"I don't know," Kennedy answered honestly. "Come on, let's sleep. Spike worked us hard today, and I'm exhausted."

~*~

The First lurked through the Summers house, watching everybody settle for the night. It was surprised and angry to find the vampire in bed with the Slayer. What the fuck did it have to do? No wonder Spike was confused by her mixed signals, the omniscient First was absolutely baffled.

So far Its master plan to kill Spike in the most painful way possible—having the Slayer do it—was backfiring in a big way. The Slayer was not supposed to love and protect a soulless monster. Hadn't that been settled the year before? Fuck!

It's contingency plan for the vampire was also backfiring. Wood was an absolutely incompetent idiot. Trying to take the vampire one on one, with the Slayer standing right there? Swell plan. Sending the little girls after him? Obviously there was the reason the First was the brains behind the operation, but it didn't matter if Wood went off and did his own stupid thing anytime he felt like it.

And now to add insult to injury, all of the little girls were warming to him. Maybe It would have to kill them before It really wanted to. That damned vampire was causing more problems, from day fucking one. Angelus should have staked him when he had the chance.

It was clear that the First couldn't use someone on the inside, close to the Slayer, to go after the vampire. It would have to bring in Its big guns. Oh well, it was time he come to town anyway.