Bouquet
By Sweetprincipale
Predators use scent before taste. Spike knows the blood of a Slayer is a powerful aphrodisiac, but the scent of a Slayer, a happy Slayer, does things to him, too… A game to tickle his senses ends up blossoming into something that warms his heart.
He noticed it unexpectedly. He was miserable, utterly miserable, sipping stale pig's blood from a novelty mug in the Watcher's flat, and suddenly- the most delectable scent in the world, clear and definable, wafted over him. The Slayer. Yes. But the Slayer alone, in the flat, happy.
Human fear smelled and tasted delicious.
A big crowd of humans, all jazzed up and stewing in adrenaline at a football match or concert- yeah, one of his favorite smells and tastes.
His human victims, in the good old days of- well, a couple weeks ago, before this damn chip- each had their own flavor, and usually it was spiced with fear and dread and other nasty things by the time he was done drinking.
The Slayer, now she smelled angry or irritated whenever he was with her. If she was happy, her mates were usually around her. The Watcher. Other demons and crowds of kids, whatever. Spike had never perceived this particular aroma before and it was… heavenly. What's more, inhaling that sweet fragrance while sipping did something to the flavor of the blood. Suddenly, it was palatable. No, it was good. It wasn't human, no, but it reminded him of a savory stew, something he might've eaten as a human, warm and thick, scented with flavors of home and being shooed out of the kitchen.
Speaking of the kitchen, there she was, alone. Peeling potatoes and singing Christmas carols to herself, dancing in front of the sink, side to side, a tap of left toe to right heel, and back.
He stayed out of the way and drained his mug quickly. He wanted to go ask for more, but then, Rupes and the witch were back, carrying groceries and arguing about something going on at the college. The scent in the air changed and muddled. Stress. Fear.
"I said fresh peas!"
"I believe I have the book we need!"
"Buffy, are you sure your mom doesn't want you to come with her?"
"Damn." Spike sniffed and walked away, a good little vamp before they could demand he needed to be shackled again.
The dinner was a nightmare. He had arrow wounds. The Slayer found out his poofy grandsire was lurking about, but had no interest in actually saying hello to her, the one love of his life, so he claimed. She smelled miserable. Stank.
The others were tidying the wreckage. She was scrubbing a pan that was nearly half her size. "Lemme wash that." He wrested it away from her without preamble.
"Spike! Get out of here! Go!" she snapped.
The scent changed. Didn't get better.
"Look, you've had a rough night, big dinner shot to hell. Let me do the washing up."
Buffy dropped the pan in shock. He caught the slippery, soapy, greasy thing with a curse and slid to the sink. He scrubbed in earnest.
Hm. Surprise was a nice scent. When she was gone, he got himself a bag, heated it up, and sipped.
"Blech."
Dammit. It had to be happy.
"Red's miserable, isn't she?"
"Don't pretend to care."
"I was stating a fact, not caring." This wasn't going well.
"Since when do facts have questions on them?"
"Since I'm British. Go. Try it on the Watcher."
With a curious glance at him, she went to ask Giles something about a spell, something she obviously should know, since they were knee-deep in research.
"Well, it's in alphabetical order, isn't it?" he snapped and handed her a book with an exasperated sigh.
Buffy wended her way back to him and sat down, quite near. "Never noticed that before. Now I'm going to notice, aren't I? Ugh, that's annoying."
Spike sighed. Well, he could try again. "Maybe you oughta cheer her up. I could research. I can read Latin better than you can." Which is to say, that paperweight can read Latin better than you can, but I want you to be happy, you twit, I'm starving for something good in my mouth again… He didn't add the insults.
With a startled look, a look that bordered on grateful, she handed him the book and went to talk to the Watcher. Spike hurriedly sipped his now lukewarm meal.
Burnt stew- but stew all the same.
The next day, he ate like a king, but he barely noticed. He was in love! He was engaged to be wed to the most glorious, wonderful girl in the entire world. She was thrilled, gloriously, radiantly happy. Even cold mud would have tasted like paradise when she sat on his lap and fed it to him, nuzzling him and kissing him between sips. That night, everything tasted of port and champagne and strawberries and cream and… Buffy. Her lips on his added high notes of the best kind to everything, and the sweet flavors of her joy colored his senses.
He was happy, too.
The effing spell wore off and they avoided each other for days. The Watcher helped him find a place. He even hinted about this being a chance to redeem himself. He snorted at the idea of "redemption"- for what? Hullo, vampire! Eating people was a fact of staying undead. "Don't know about redemption, Rupes, but I could be a bit helpful. Yeah. Patrol with the Slayer sometimes."
It was the Watcher's turn to snort.
I'll show you, Spike thought.
"I can take this side of town."
"What?" Buffy gaped at the unlikely and unwanted companion she'd suddenly sprouted on her nightly patrols.
"You can't cover this whole place in one night and still get some sleep. How do you not all asleep in classes?"
"It's a miracle," Buffy mumbled.
"And vamps keep making more vamps and people keep dying and you keep bein' unhappy!" Spike concluded triumphantly. He sipped his burnt-stew blood, a straw shoved into a slit he'd made at the top with his pocket knife. "I can kill the demons, remember?"
"Yes, I remember." It was still a shock. Not that he could, but that he would. She'd seen him do it, messily, for the last few days.
"So, you take the side closest to campus, I'll take the other. Give you a report when we meet up tomorrow night?"
"Uh- yeah. Okay. Sure. Um. Thank you."
Just a hint- but the last sip was something savory and sweet.
He walked off, draining every drop as he cheered in his head.
His plan, for once, was working. Each time he gave a report and she could verify it, the air seemed softer and the blood tasted sweeter- and annoyingly enough, a few times he hadn't even been drinking anything and she'd given him an almost-genuine smile. Seemed she was smiling a lot lately.
Had to do with some big man on campus. He'd no idea why that sent insides roiling.
'Cause the bastard will break her heart and what will happen to our one actually edible drink of the day?
"Does he know about you bein' all super?"
He should have finished drinking first. Sadness and irritation and memories that made her grieve. He swallowed the sour-tinged remains hastily.
"No! He's a nice, normal guy. He's not the kind of guy who would understand keeping secrets about monsters. He's from Iowa!"
"They've got monsters in Iowa! Plenty of wendigos, giants, werewolves-"
"Please stop."
"Okay. I just think you'll be happier if you tell him straight off. If he's the right one, he'll believe you, or at least he'll let you convince him you're not loony. Maybe he's keeping dark secrets of his own."
"I'm so not into mysterious secretive types with big shoulders and cute bangs," she muttered, mulling over what the oddly-helpful vampire said.
"I hear that. One Angelus experience is enough for anyone."
"Amen."
Did they just agree on something?
Buffy tossed him a look. What was in it for Spike, if she were happy? Nothing. Probably just wanted to see her suffer, his only fun in life these days, so he was waiting for the budding romance to be squashed under the weight of her Chosen-y burden.
Then why would Spike be so helpful? She asked Xander, Willow, and Giles to check up on the work he claimed to do and he'd done it. The obituaries were getting less space in the paper. Fewer graves were disturbed. She actually had time to study.
The A- in psychology felt so good…
Spike inhaled sharply. "What are you thinking about?" He hoped he didn't sound too eager. He had to know what made her feel this way, smell that way, not a full-blown waft of joy, but enough to make his nose twitch.
"Huh? Oh, studying."
"Studying-" Makes you happy? But he daren't say that.
"Yes! I'm actually smart!" she snapped.
"Hell, Slayer, I know that. You're brilliant."
"Not just at killing things! Aside from French and math- I used to get straight As. I got some of my mid-terms back already and I'm slaying it academically." She preened.
"Good! You - you have more time to study thanks to yours truly?"
"Yes," she admitted grudgingly. Then the grudging left. "Um. You're old."
"Real old," he chuckled.
She laughed back, shocking them both.
"Didn't people in the old days have to speak lots of different languages if they were well-bred people? Not that you were."
"That's right. But if you were clever, you picked it up."
"I'm sick of French, but you have to take one general education foreign language class. Any suggestions?"
"I speak Spanish and Portuguese. Spent a lot of time in Brazil and Argentina."
"Wow."
"Stick to Spanish. It's useful in the bigger cities in this country and you're not too far from Mexico. Be useful in case you ever need to deal with a bi-lingual victim. Or demon."
"Good point. I can't believe I have to pick next semester's classes in three more weeks."
"What? You just started!"
"I know! But it'll be Christmas break soon."
It was completely inappropriate. It still popped into his mouth before he could stop it. "What d'you think your mum would like for Christmas?"
"Huh? My mother!?"
"I like Joyce! I run into her from time to time! She seems a little lonely with you at school and we have a cuppa in the backroom every now and then. I can't afford to get her something big and artsy. What about a scarf? Earrings?" The first gift he'd given to someone who reminded him of his own mother in- Ever.
Silence.
"What kind of scarf?"
"Those decorative fake-silk things. Ten quid apiece. Maybe something cream and gold?"
"That could be good."
"I'd feel better if you helped me pick it out. Not made of dosh, don't want to get this wrong, do I?"
"Did you just ask me to come to the mall?"
"Yes, I guess I did." He was annoyed- but she was bloody well delighted. Mall. Remember that. Drop the word mall wherever you can, 's long as you've got a pint handy.
"And erm- what do you want for Christmas? Do you celebrate it?" Buffy felt her eyeballs trying to pull free from her head. They wanted to leap out and stare sternly at her. Do not make small talk with the murdering vampire!
What about small talk with the helpful vampire who listens and wants to go to the mall to shop for my mom, huh? What about that? she countered silently.
"I celebrate it. Don't know that I need anything."
"Isn't this your place?" They were going to split after this cemetery.
"Yeah." He shrugged.
"Can I go look? Maybe I could see what- oh…" She pushed in when he gave her the nod. The phrase, "see what pieces would go with your decorating style" died a short death. A chair. A television. A fridge. Dust, cobwebs, chilly air.
A blanket. A fleece one with something masculine on it. I saw a grey and white with a wolf howling on it. That's what I'll get him. "Do you ever get cold in here?" She rubbed her arms suddenly.
Just as suddenly, her shoulders sank under the weight of his duster. Her heart slid awkwardly upward under the gleam of his playful grin.
"Not so's you'd notice. Let's get you home and out of this icebox."
"You were right."
"Oh, no." Spike smelled the stench before he saw her. Broken heart. Again. It was awful, no nice fear scent with this dose of misery and dread.
"I went to talk to him- once we got our voices back. He's one of those commandos."
"He helped kill the bad gents, though, right?" Spike had been in on the planning procedure, but he hadn't been there when she took out the final boss, so to speak.
"I thought you'd be trying to claw past me to kill him. He's one of the guys that chipped you."
"Yeah, well, not like I can sink my fangs into him. C'mon, let's walk, get your mind off it."
"My mind will never, ever be off of it. He told me- I- should stop what I was doing before I got hurt. He wasn't impressed with me. He was scolding me, like I was a vigilante who got lucky! He told me I had compromised their mission, too. Told me I endanger-endangered innocent civilians!" Her voice cracked into a sob.
"That's utter rubbish! You have centuries' worth of instinct and a Watcher to train you, friends to help, you're literally the only girl in the world for the job! He's the one who's puttin' people at risk, tinkerin' with demons, wet behind the ears, goin' around with a ruddy big gun and belt full of tools, an' all you need is a pointy piece of wood! He's the -oof!" His startled cry turned into an internal sigh as she abruptly threw herself into his arms, hugging him hard. Oooohhhh, yeah. That's the ticket! A thousand good scents, layered underneath with bittersweet notes of lily and dark chocolate. Happy with me. Sad at him. Sad at life.
"Th-thanks, Spike. I needed to hear that."
"Anyone with that big of a weapon has somethin' to prove, Pet. You didn't miss out on anything."
She laughed against her better judgement. "Ew! Spike. Don't be gross!"
"It's true! Look at what a man likes to carry to make himself all manly."
"You had a huge crowbar thingie when you came to the school."
"I needed to get in the building!"
"Yeah and what do you have now?" Buffy snickered and waited for him to pull out some huge machete-style blade from the recesses of his long leather coat.
Spike laughed, starting to feel a little bit high. Laughter. Like a scent influenced a taste, this sound somehow influenced him. He could drink in that little, secretive, private just-between-us laugh forever.
"Yeah, you don't want to show me it's some- tiny- little- switchblade." Buffy stopped speaking, her mouth slowly drying out. He smirked at her and shoved it back in his pocket.
He could tease her. She was expecting it, he could tell by the way her eyes darted up to his and down to her shoes, her laughter dying completely.
Spike changed the subject abruptly. "So, there's your incontrovertible proof, right? He's a self-righteous git with nothin' to please a beautiful, incredibly strong woman. But the mall… now the mall has ice cream for you and a scarf for Joyce-"
"And a blanket for you!" Buffy chimed in, and then cursed herself under her breath, a hand trying to catch the escaped words.
She was gonna buy me a blanket. "I'm touched, Luv. C'mon. Somethin' chocolate and cherry?"
"Strawberry," she corrected.
He made sure he had blood with him every Wednesday night. Wednesday night was mall night, unless it was impending disaster night, escaped lab monster night, Giles has a bug up his arse night, or Willow-needs-hugs night.
Still, he began to notice that the blood tasted sweeter whenever she was near, but Wednesday night was filet mignon in a delicate shallot-butter sauce, finished with lava cakes and dessert souffles…
"You're drooling. Admit it. I got you hooked on chocolate chip cookie dough."
"Shame on you, gettin' me addicted and then cutting my supply."
"I let you finish my cone last week!" She elbowed him with a laugh.
"I let you eat all my pretzel bits and cheese sauce!"
"You're not seriously comparing that radioactive Cheez-Wiz on cardboard to smooth, creamy -"
"Garghhh! Stop torturing me!"
"It's my job to make your life miserable, evil-doer." She smiled complacently. Spike snorted, smothering the smoky chuckle she was growing oddly fond of. "Wait until you try the peanut butter bombs at Hot Fudge Hut." Buffy abruptly paused just inside the mall's garland-strewn doorway. "Ohhh. They're taking down the holiday stuff." She pouted.
"Don't blink, Slayer," Spike pulled her sleeve toward a hideously gaudy display of pink and whie hearts and red glitter. "Valentine's approaches."
"I'm single. I hate this holiday."
"Oh, pipe down, we'll stuff ourselves with those bomb things an' you'll be fine."
"Excuse me, folks. Do you want me to wait until you're done?"
A white-haired man with a cart piled high with Christmas bits and bobs stopped directly in front of them. He pointed over their heads.
Mistletoe. Of course. "We were just -" Spike began to explain that they were simply en route to ice cream, when she yanked his collar down, pecked him on the cheek, and smiled sweetly at the old man.
"Thank you!" She waved and tugged Spike away. She blushed as the vampire simply stared and trudged after her, boots suddenly feeling too big and clumsy. As if taking his silence as accusatory, she hastened to explain. "Well, he was being so polite! I couldn't let him feel like he was wasting his time!"
"Yeah, right," Spike said gruffly. At least, he hoped it was gruff. He felt like his words were coming from far away, and everything was hazy.
Buffy kissed me.
Buffy… is holding my hand.
He saw no reason to remove it.
"What are you and Tara doing?"
"Just practicing some meditation!" Willow looked happy- and maybe a little guilty. "We're both single on Valentine's so… And you could come, too! I'm totally not ditching you." Her voice had entered that squeaky-toy range of hyper worry, but Buffy didn't seem in the least upset that Willow's plans hadn't included her.
"No! Meditation and I are un-mixy things. Too much sitting still and not enough movies in front of me while I do it. I'm glad you're going to have a fun night. Spike and I are going to the mall. It's Wednesday."
"Oh, right, it is on a Wednesday this year. I wonder if it'll be full of high schoolers making goo-goo eyes?"
"You should ask him if vampires love Valentine's Day. The hot, sexy kind of vamps like Spike, I mean, not the hideous bat-face dudes like the Master. All those lonely hearts and people drowning their single-sorrows. Not that we who are single are sorrowful!"
"I'll ask," Buffy laughed again, but this time her laugh was strained. Did Willow just say Spike was hot and sexy? Maybe, on a purely surface level, he was.
As she got ready for patrol, she was considering her definition of sexy.
Hot guy. Handsome. Full head of hair. Good body.
I am NOT that shallow.
Love makes a person seem attractive, seem sexy. I'm not in love with anyone currently, and Riley Finn and Parker Poophead seriously have turned me off of looking for male companionship. That's the only reason my sexiness-meter is busted.
Still, as she made her sweep, knowing that Spike would be making his on the other side of town and that they'd unfailingly meet up in the middle, thoughts on the subject kept coming. It wasn't a completely dead night, no pun intended, but the action-level was low.
I just need a distraction.
Smiles. Smiles make a guy sexy. Some guys have a smile that's so genuinely open and attractive and… Spike's smile when he unwrapped his fleece blanket at Christmas was like that. But a smoky smirk with sharp cheekbones setting it off… Spike's smile when they were teasing and bantering was like that.
Thinking about sexy qualities in guys is NOT the kind of distraction you need.
Brains. Smart actually is sexy.
Oh, God…
There was no arguing with her brain- not without looking more freaky than she already appeared, a nineteen year-old stalking through graveyards and hoping to meet something worth fighting.
Spike is really smart. He's the irritating, evilly-clever kind of smart and he's also smart-smart. It's nice to see Giles have some real help with the big dusty books. It was so funny the other day when they started arguing in Latin. Latin in Spike's voice, when he's angry, is like- the best language. It was popcorn-worthy.
Hey. Hey, Brain. Think about Angel. Now that was a sexy man, remember him, our first love?
So tall, dark, and handsome.
That's shallow.
Okay, well, he was passionate.
And Spike isn't? HA! Spike's passionate about everything! The way he can describe a penalty kick from a Manchester United Game thirty years ago made me want to watch a soccer game- I mean, football game, for the first time ever.
Listen, Brain. We are not comparing Spike and Angel. This is not a contest. Angel, I loved. He was perfect for me. That's what made him special, and sexy, and passionate, and everything!
Another ten minutes of fast walking and active scanning gave her some respite, but she couldn't really outrun the truth.
Angel was everything to you. Special to you. Sexy as hell to you. Literally involving hell, too. But perfect for you?
Sad.
Conflicted.
Guilty.
Helpless.
Hopeless.
Naive.
See, Spike doesn't make you feel any of that stuff these days. And that's why when you start to think about what makes someone sexy, and you think about guys you're with a lot- you do compare them.
Spike comes out on top in a lot of ways.
He makes me laugh every night.
He's on our side now.
I don't hide that I hang out with him.
He tells me how strong I am.
He always makes me feel better, like he has a personal investment in whether I'm happy or not.
As for naive… Wel, he likes to see if he can make me blush, but that's just Spike being a gutter-brain. He never treats me like I'm too dainty and innocent for a dirty joke, that's for sure.
I like him.
"Argh!" A cry of annoyance tore through her lips and a small branch was torn from an oak.
"It works better if it's sharper on the end, Luv." Spike's voice, cool and amused, reached her ears and she whirled, clutching the branch.
"I - uh- I was in my head too much."
Spike came nearer, slipping a blood bag from his pocket and using the switchblade to jab a little hole in the top. He sniffed in, then paused. "Are you upset, Pet?"
"I was thinking about- too much stuff. Valentine's Day is in two days. I'm kinda bummed."
"Ah, but in two days is the glory of Mall Night!" Spike made this seem like a mystical, magical occurrence, voice hushed and spellbinding. "An' you an' I shall eat peanut butter bombs and double-hot fudgies, and slay all the vamps lookin' to make time on the lonely hearts sobbing in the Bronze. Okay?"
"Okay," she gave him a weak smile, and suddenly gave him a one-armed hug on top of it. "That was the perfect thing to say. It answered a question I was going to ask, too."
He inhaled happily and drank his dinner with a smile, one arm 'round the Slayer's shoulders as they walked through a quiet town.
"Do you think we need to hit the Bronze before and after the mall?" Buffy asked Spike on Wednesday at dusk. "Get the happy hour crowd and the 'my date turned into a disaster' crowd?"
"Good plan. Maybe hop into a couple of other bars. I don't know if you can get in some of 'em, but-"
"I have a fake ID."
"I was gonna say, I can go in quick and suss out any vamps, and no one ever seems to card me. Funny, that," he mused, an innocent expression on his face.
"You don't look that old. I'm surprised."
"I flash a little fang if anyone gets clever." He winked with one suddenly golden eye. She chuckled, a little sigh on the end of it. That bitter-cocoa smell was coming in under the other fragrances he loved. Happy Buffy. My girl with a smile and a laugh is- well, not that she's my girl, but she's…
Bloody hell. What is she?
Because somewhere along the way, when this shite started back in November, she was simply like a condiment, a way to make his newly enforced diet not so utterly awful.
And now in February, almost three months later, they saw one another every night, they talked like best mates, and she made him smile, even when she wasn't around.
Sometimes he thought of other ways to make her smile that weren't matters of helping with dishes or patrol, too. Like whatever prompted him to stop in and see Joyce at closing time and give her a white rose- and keep a red one back for the girl now talking a mile a minute.
"- die extra hard for taking advantage of people who are already hurting!"
He paused and caught on just in time. "We'll kill 'em a little extra viciously tonight if we see 'em ruining someone's already ruined Valentine's. Got it."
"Good. I um- I thought-"
"Wait, gotta give you this before we leave. You might wanna swing back and pick it up, though. Don't make a fuss, all right?"
"Huh? Why do you have to give it to me now if I have to come back and get it anyway?" Buffy demanded. "Oh." She let out a surprised gasp as Spike presented her with a single red rose, its petals black around the edges from bruising. "Spike, it's-" The head abruptly fell from the stem as she lifted it to her nose.
"Oh, fuck." he sounded annoyed. "I carried it home under my coat. Dammit. Well, I'll get you another one, Slayer. Happy Valentine's Day, Luv."
"Oh, Spike! I- I love it," she said, trying hard not to giggle. She failed and turned away, digging in her purse. "Here. I got Giles one, too. He told me they were-"
"Where the hell did you find proper chocolate?" Spike snatched the Dairy Milk bar from her hand and yanked the wrapper off.
"My mom ordered them when I was brainstorming what to get. I think she might have one for you, too."
"Well, she didn't give it to me today when I popped in to see her. Ohh. Yeah. That's the stuff." Spike inhaled and bit a greedily big bite off the corner. He didn't seem to notice the way his moans made his companion flush and bite her lip. Then, prompted by something he'd be reluctant to call manners, he took the unbitten half and broke off a chunk. "Proper chocolate. Try."
As they left the crypt, the stemless rose tucked behind her ear with hope and prayer, and her mouth full of the creamiest chocolate she'd ever had, she asked, "You went to see my mother?"
"Yeah. Well, she's on her own today. Gave her a white rose. For purity of friendship."
"That's so sweet! I got her some pink tulips."
"You're a good daughter, Slayer."
"I'm trying. You remember- well, you remember." The time my mother told me to leave and not come back.
He found his arm stealing around her shoulders like it was supposed to be there, to hell with his brain's instructions. "You did the hard thing. It was the right thing."
"Thanks, Spike," she said thickly. "I guess it was hard for you, too."
"Lost the love of my life, Slayer. Yeah. It was hard and cost me in the long run, but… oh well. Like bein' alive. Hell doesn't have chocolate."
"They probably do. The really grainy, waxy kind you get at the dollar store in foil wrappers."
"Now, that's just mean."
They laughed and walked, arms somehow still connecting them, side by side. He took the last bit of his candybar and popped it into her mouth. She beamed up at him, cheeks puffed out.
Oh hell, he thought, smiling back in the same foolish manner. I'm falling for her.
"I think this might be the best Valentine's Day I've ever had," Buffy reflected as she plunged a stake deep into some Disco Danny's chest.
Spike was giving the same treatment to a female vamp with a bouffant hair-do and sequined dress. "It's one I won't forget," he agreed.
"Do you think they were on a date?"
"We pulled 'em off of two separate people, Slayer."
"No, I mean like the vampire version of a date, and this was going out to eat for Valentine's Day? They were both mega-dressed up- just for the wrong decade."
"Probably. Judging by the amount of chest hair and gold chains, I'd say they'd been together for thirty or so years."
"Oh. I feel a little bit bad now."
"You just closed thirty years' worth of cold cases, Pet. Feel like a soddin' hero."
She looked at him, green eyes intense. His chest did something funny, got all tight in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline.
"How do you do that?"
"Do- what?" Spike looked down at the pile of Disco Debbie's heavily-perfumed ashes. The bint's hairspray and overpowering eau de Estee Lauder was still lingering in the alley.
"Know what to say to make me feel better. Every time since- was it right around Thanksgiving?- it's like you … I don't know what it is. You just know what to say."
He also knew what not to say. It started off as a game to see if I could make you happy, if I could make your scent fill my quivering hunter nostrils so that month-old frozen and reheated pig's blood tasted less like shitty coughsyrup and more like a good meal.
"I just… like to see you happy. I like to be around you when you're happy. I like bein' around you anytime at all these days," he whispered, stepping closer. That was the truth, the truth of the past and the present. Now, he didn't care what his blood tasted like, honestly. If he went back to killing humans, she'd be sad and that wouldn't do. Somehow, in the way she impacted all of his plans, he'd gotten all twisted around until he was genuinely on her side, not just playing her.
"I like being around you, too." She stepped into his space, her hand hesitantly finding its way up to his cheek.
"Buffy-"
He didn't get to finish whatever came next, not that he had any concrete ideas of what it would have been. She was kissing him. Soft, chocolate-tinged tongue and warm lips, strong hands behind his head.
God, could she kiss! When she let him go so she could snatch a breath of air, he found himself plastered to the dank wall behind the club, knees unsteady, panting himself.
"Okay?" she asked, panting hard and looking somewhat unsteady as well. He had kissed her back. He had totally and definitely kissed her back, a low rumble in his chest, his hands in her hair, his body pressing into hers in a new and exciting way that she was unfamiliar with. Passionate. Not just when we're about to have some one-night stand, not when you're about to leave me.
When you're about to stay with me.
"Bloody fantastic. But- was that just 'cause… well, it's Valentine's. Sometimes people get a bit impetuous."
"You're right," she said seriously, watching his face fall. "So, tomorrow night? Wanna test it?"
"Yes!" he crowed, and kissed her again, a brief, searing scald of his mouth to hers. "That was just to keep my place."
She knew what he meant, but in her mind, there was no one who could take it.
"Did you and Tara have a good time?" Buffy asked the next morning. To her shock, Willow went pink, then pale, then pink again, and tried to talk, only to end with a shrug and a noise that went "Gu-uh-huh?"
"Wow. That good, huh?" Buffy arched one eyebrow. "Have you two been experimenting?"
"What?" Willow gasped, eyes seeming to stretch and take up two-thirds of her face.
"I'm not suddenly going to find myself levitating everytime I say 'popcorn' or something, am I?" Just to be on the safe side, she suddenly anchored herself to the chair.
"Ohhh. Magical experimentation. No! We did some basic stuff. It was so… nice. And safe. And I was so happy with her. Honestly, I suddenly- Buffy, I know you won't get this, because of the way things have been going, but when I'm with Tara, there are moments when I can't remember my heart was ever broken. Everything just seems so wonderful, everything fits, I fit, I feel so wonderful."
Buffy tilted her head. Several things felt off with that sentence. One, did Willow just tell me that I've been out "best friend-ed"? Two, what does she mean, the way things have been going? Spike and I- oh, right. Parker. Riley. When I'm with Spike, I wouldn't say I break into rhapsodies about my life being wonderful, but… wow. I laugh and have such a good time with him lately, just doing the stuff I always do. My heart doesn't hurt.
"Say something?" Willow pleaded in a squeaky voice.
"She makes your heart feel happy?" Buffy asked softly.
Willow nodded slowly. She took a deep breath and seemed to be doing some anchoring of her own, clutching her pillow to her chest with both hands and speaking into it, though her eyes were looking up to find Buffy's. "I kissed her. She kissed me. I mean, we kissed."
Buffy sat down hard in the desk chair. Her mind did some mental screaming about Willow and Oz and girls not being in the mix, and then, when her mouth opened, she was surprised to hear herself say, "I kissed Spike."
The little room was silent. Buffy imagined she could hear the digital numbers switching on the bedside clock radio.
"Spike's been pretty great lately."
"Very great. And Tara. Whooo. All with the greatness."
"You think so?" Willow whispered shyly, cheeks pink and glowing in a different way.
"I do. Mainly because she makes you happy. That makes her awesome in my book."
"Spike can be awesome in my book, too."
"Good."
"Good."
"Hug me now?"
"God, yes!"
Spike jumped when there was light tap-tap-tapping on his door. Not that Buffy didn't knock, she usually did. This tapping was rather soft and meek and not accompanied by her head popping around the door with her expectant smile.
"Come in!" Spike went to fetch his blood out of habit, always taking the opportunity to imbibe when her scent was nearby to trick his palate. This time, his feet rerouted him and he all but ran to greet her at the door.
"Hi." She was not going to come in and act all shy. Nope. It was just one kiss. One really, really awesome, excellent, leave-you-breathless kiss.
"Hi, Slayer," he welcomed her, his voice semi-husky and shy itself. If he could have given himself a stern staredown, he would have, but lack of mirrors and reflections buggered that up.
"Hi."
"You said that."
"I did, didn't I?" Okay, this time there was definite blushing shyness, but there was also that playful spark she had found, that she loved. She could never roguishly tease Angel, Parker was playing her with every word, and Riley had somehow left her in a tongue-tied awe in some twisted scenario of innocent little freshman with big, strapping TA.
Spike is… my friend.
That is becoming more than my friend.
"I brought your bookmark." Buffy pushed past him.
"You brought my- oh. You held my page, did you?" He sauntered behind her, waiting until she was near a wall to suddenly catch her elbow and pull her toward him.
"All day."
"Thank God." He smiled into her arms and sank easily into her kiss.
Buffy was aware of the light in the crypt changing. She'd come over just at sunset, when the light in his single room was sort of golden. She'd taken a breathing break to find it heading toward gravelly blue and soft. Now it was darker, deeper, a charcoal black. "Spike?" They also weren't standing by the wall anymore. How had they ended up in his chair, cocooned around one another like two interlocking pieces?
"What, Luv?"
"It got dark."
"Happens when the sun goes down," he answered with a chuckle, then kissed her again.
He noticed the scent changing, just as he always had. She had been happy. Now- there was something more. A dark, rich floral scent that reminded him of flowers in the steamy tropical air of South America. He'd caught faint whiffs of it before, but it was not mixed with joy.
Arousal, minus adrenaline and post-battle frustration and energy needing to be burnt off. "I make you happy, don't I?" he murmured softly, moving his mouth to her neck, his hands still kneading her back as she wrapped her knees on the outside of his legs, perched over him.
"You do."
"You make me happy."
"Really?"
"Yes, really." He rolled his eyes briefly. "Could- could make you even happier."
"You have a pony and a million bucks in that coffin?" she teased.
"No." His smile wavered, his eyes sad for a moment. He never really gave Dru the things she wanted, either. He'd spent decades chasing up pretties and treats for her, but it boiled down to him not ruling her with an iron hand and a perverse sense of ownership. She owned him. She made him happy. She made him hurt and ache.
"Oh, Spike." Buffy didn't know her voice could do this, go all soft and lover-like, confident and caressing, knowing her own power. Understanding someone, not being lulled by mystery, not being played by charm. "I don't need money. I sure as heck can't keep a pony in the dorm. I know you can make me happier, just be sticking around."
Another bout of relieved, happy, almost giddy kissing, before she arched away from him, rubbing her tingling calf. "Leg cramp."
"Here." She sat across his lap now, legs sticking out over the arm of the chair and his arm, too. He massaged her calf as he nuzzled her neck, eyes closed in bliss.
She looked up at him during one pause, their positions now shifted. His eyes closed, he looked younger, more innocent, happier. "I could make you happier?"
Eyes flickered open lazily. "Question or statement?"
"Both-ish?"
"That's a question. The answer is yes. You can make me happier, just by stickin' around. Mutual."
"Like… equal partners?"
"Equal whatevers, Luv." Partners had more meanings now. It wasn't like the old days of partners running a firm in London or a gold mining operation out west. Partners in patrol, they were already that. Partners in… he dare not say love, but partners of the romantic sort, that'd be good.
"You don't want it to be- like a serious thing." That made sense. Drusilla was his big serious. He was a soulless vampire. They could get along, have fun- her heart should not be crashing down in flames of disappointment.
"What? Oh no! No, Slayer, no tears, no sorrow!" Spike hastily gripped her face, finding his hands clumsily grabbing, making her cheeks puff out and her eyes widen, giving her the appearance of a startled blonde chipmunk.
When you think your girl is bloody ravishing and kissable as a little woodland critter, well…
"I'm not crying!" she said defensively, sounding like she had a mouth full of marshmallow.
"Partners- never been that. Never been anyone's equal."
Buffy's sigh of relief was silent, but her mental voice was loud. You haven't been equal, either. Not really. None of the guys you were with saw you as a friend, an equal. You were bedroom fodder, some prom queen to drool over, some little freshman to score off of, some big hero.
"So… Right."
"Right." Let's get back to the kissing, Spike thought impatiently.
"How were you going to make me happier?"
"Ah. Well. I- uh- you know 'bout the bed downstairs. You saw that it was decked in fuzzy fleeces."
"You want to snuggle me in a blanket?" Buffy felt her heart speeding up, but her face stayed relaxed, one eyebrow hinting.
"Yes, actually. I also thought- uh-" Why did she do that? Spear him with those eyes? Make him all tongue-tied and love-drunk?
She stood up and arched her back, secretly loving the way his eyes followed her body, the soft heat that radiated from his gaze. "Spike! We haven't even had a first date yet!" Her tone was mildly scolding, her eyes twinkling.
"What? Last night-"
"That was an accidental date."
"That's a thing?"
"Yes," she said firmly.
"Hmm. So. Slayer has standards. I gotta woo you, huh?" He prowled up to her, sin and seduction in his smile.
No. Nope. Not at all. Come kiss me, Loverboy. Chocolate-flavored kisses and crushed red roses and laughing until we can't stand up and dusting dates together… I'm wooed. She tilted her chin, firm and falsely-resolute. "Wooing is a must. I have had a severe lack of woo-age."
He considered and stopped mid-panther-like purr. "I suppose you have, at that. All right. C'mon, it's late, but I think I can make it in time. We seem to have lost track of time. Can't imagine how." He smirked.
That was an understatement. The moon was high when Spike seized her arm and dragged her outside.
"Where are we going? The mall?"
"Maybe. Do they sell flowers at the mall?"
"No. I don't think so."
"Gotta get my girl some flowers. Write her some poetry." Spike warmed to this challenge, knowing it was already met, safe that this time William wasn't going to be rejected. "Buy you some chocolates and earrings and take you to dinner and dancing and-"
"Spike! Stop. I was kidding. Mostly. You don't need to do things or buy things to make me-to make me feel like I want to go 'snuggle' with you. Soon," Buffy reassured, a gentle smile on her lips, fingers firm on his wrist to stop him from dragging her at breakneck speeds in pursuit of "wooing" accessories.
"I know, Slayer." He took her hand and seized it. "I'm doing those things because I like- I like to see you happy."
She kissed him in the moonlight, leaning against a headstone and sighing into his embrace.
He snickered in the dark, pulling her closer. Like the taste of it, too.
Dedicated to my beloved aunt, one of the original slayers, if by slayer you mean a strong woman who takes every single kind of hit a world can throw at you- and just kept getting back up, each time with a more generous heart, but heavier shoulders. Flowers for my flower.
THANK YOU for being friends, colleagues, and community! I hope you will check out some of my original work, included for free in KU! Just look for S.C. Principale! Love and vampire bites ;) Sweet
