Disclaimer: I own nothing but this chapter of the challenge started by Zekkers. Everything else belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB.
Finished: April 27, 2001
A/N: Thanks to SpikeLover for the idea of Buffy waking with the Big Bad in her big bed. I bet you had no idea it would turn into four more parts, did ya, Hils?
~~ The Horrible Aftertaste ~~
Buffy woke up with her head pounding. She tried to open her eyes, but the room was too bright and her brain forced her to keep them squeezed shut. Still tasting the alcohol in her mouth, she could tell, even through her closed eyelids, that she was facing the window so she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. But something was wrong. The pillow seemed firmer than usual and smelled like smoke.
Suddenly the pillow inhaled deeply and stirred under her head. Buffy sat up, muffling a scream and opened her eyes to find none other than Spike in her bed. He sat up quickly as well with a start and held a hand over his unbeating heart: a natural protection reflex when a vampire is startled. "Geez, Slayer, you nearly scared the unlife out of me!"
"I scared you?!" she asked incredulously. "Spike, what the hell are you doing in my bed? What the hell are you doing in my house?"
Spike stared at the Slayer. "You invited me in...you wanted me to stay with you," he replied. "Your memory might be a little hazy but it happened."
Buffy thought hard. Last night's events were more than just a little hazy. She remembered the wish-master, seeing Spike with a Young-Blonde-Thing, feeling jealous, and beer...lots of beer. Everything after the beer was lost to her. She looked at her rumpled clothing and was relieved to see them still on her. *Nothing happened, Buffy,* she told herself. *Even when you're drunk you're not that stupid.* "Get out," she said firmly to Spike.
"I can't, pet," he said with a slight grin. "It's daytime and I don't fancy a sunburn."
Buffy put a hand to her forehead. Damn, her headache was strong. She needed painkillers and fast. She flipped the covers aside and quickly stood up, walking to the door. Suddenly she felt dizzy and her vision was clouded with dark spots. When she realized what happened, she found that she was in Spike's arms sitting on the floor. His arms were tightly wrapped around her waist, holding her steady. For a split second, she indulged in the closeness and safety of his arms before remembering exactly who he was. He was the same vampire that had threatened to release Drusilla on her unless she admitted to the possibility of a future with him.
"Spike, get off of me!" she shouted, throwing his hands away and trying to stand up. He followed her up and helped her catch her balance. Again, she pushed him away and stalked off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Opening the door, she poked her head out. "Just don't take anything. Don't touch anything. In fact, don't even look at anything." she ordered before closing the bathroom door again.
Spike stood in her room dumbfounded. Last night she said she wanted the attention he was apparently giving to some 'Young-Blonde-Thing' and how she wanted to dance with him and kiss him. Of course Spike knew she was drunk, but maybe she was just speaking from her heart...it had only taken a few alcoholic drinks for her to break down the wall surrounding it. As for the 'Young-Blonde-Thing', Spike had no idea who she could be talking about. He didn't remember dancing with or kissing another woman, much less how he even got to the Bronze. *Probably following Buffy, as usual.* he thought to himself. He heard the shower start up and decided to head downstairs for something to eat, just to pass the time until he could get home and have a drink.
In the kitchen, Joyce and Dawn were talking.
"But Willow did the spell," Joyce said. "How could he be here?"
"Mom, I know what I heard," Dawn replied. "I heard him talking to Buffy last night. She was drunk or something. I'm sure Japan heard them coming up the stairs."
Just then, Spike could be heard thumping loudly down the stairs. Sure he'd heard them talking, but he'd pretend that he'd caught none of the conversation so there'd be no awkwardness. Yeah, right.
Joyce and Dawn stood silent in the kitchen as Spike walked in. His hair was mussed and his clothes were crinkled. Buffy could be heard upstairs in the shower. Immediately Dawn jumped to conclusions and could feel herself blushing the slightest bit. Spike didn't seem to notice as he was standing nervously under Joyce's glare. "I, um, just came down for--"
"Get out, Spike, or I'll stake you myself," she threatened. "And believe me, it'll hurt you a lot more than it'll hurt me."
Spike looked down in shame. "I can't leave yet," he replied quietly. "The sun is out." He was hoping Joyce might cut him a little slack. After all, she was the only one of the gang that treated him nicely, besides Dawn. He'd just been talking with her a few days ago about the Greek amphorae mix-up at the gallery...sure he'd threatened to harm her daughter, but that was in the past, and it had never bothered her until now. He looked over at Dawn, hoping for the slightest shimmer of acceptance, but only found disgust.
He took the hint and backed out of the kitchen, bumping directly into a freshly washed Buffy. "Watch it!" she complained, pushing past him and entering the kitchen. Upon seeing the faces of her mother and sister she gave them a reassuring look. "He'll be gone by dusk. And Willow can redo the spell."
Joyce looked somewhat relieved and returned to her task of making lunch, occasionally looking over her shoulder at Spike.
Dejected, he entered the living room and slumped down on the couch. Picking up the remote control, he flipped through the television channels. Finding nothing but Jerry Springer, news and cartoons, he turned it off. He sighed out of boredom and lay back on the couch, closing his eyes. After a minute, he realized that someone else was in the room with him. "What do you want?" he asked, after recognizing her scent.
"Just wondering why you brought me home last night," she explained. "I can understand that you probably want credit for it or something, but you had to have known that whatever I might have said last night wouldn't reflect on how I'd act today."
Spike nodded without opening his eyes. "Yeah, I realized that, but I'm not expecting credit, just a little respect." he replied.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I could've left you to pass out at the Bronze, or to walk home and get killed by a demon," he said. "But I didn't. And I didn't take advantage of you, even when you wanted me to. I respected you, you should respect me back."
"As always, your eloquence impresses me." she said sarcastically.
"I didn't mean it like that." he said, sitting up to face her.
"Whatever." she muttered, turning to leave.
"How's Dawn?" he asked.
"Coping," she replied. "She keeps using the 'I'm a Key' card to get out of troub--" Buffy then remembered who she was talking to. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" he asked.
"Pretend you care," she replied. "Pretend that we're friends."
"I'm not pretending, I'm just worried about Nibblet," he explained. "So stake me."
"Maybe I will," she said, turning toward the stairs. "I'll be back in a minute with a toothpick."
"How's your headache?" he asked.
"Fine. Still there, but--" she stopped short. "Stop doing that!"
Spike couldn't help but grin at her frustration. He loved getting under her skin. It made her pulse race and her face flush with anger. She'd never smelled more delectable.
He watched her storm off and chuckled to himself. There were still a few hours until sundown. This was going to be fun.
Finished: April 27, 2001
A/N: Thanks to SpikeLover for the idea of Buffy waking with the Big Bad in her big bed. I bet you had no idea it would turn into four more parts, did ya, Hils?
~~ The Horrible Aftertaste ~~
Buffy woke up with her head pounding. She tried to open her eyes, but the room was too bright and her brain forced her to keep them squeezed shut. Still tasting the alcohol in her mouth, she could tell, even through her closed eyelids, that she was facing the window so she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. But something was wrong. The pillow seemed firmer than usual and smelled like smoke.
Suddenly the pillow inhaled deeply and stirred under her head. Buffy sat up, muffling a scream and opened her eyes to find none other than Spike in her bed. He sat up quickly as well with a start and held a hand over his unbeating heart: a natural protection reflex when a vampire is startled. "Geez, Slayer, you nearly scared the unlife out of me!"
"I scared you?!" she asked incredulously. "Spike, what the hell are you doing in my bed? What the hell are you doing in my house?"
Spike stared at the Slayer. "You invited me in...you wanted me to stay with you," he replied. "Your memory might be a little hazy but it happened."
Buffy thought hard. Last night's events were more than just a little hazy. She remembered the wish-master, seeing Spike with a Young-Blonde-Thing, feeling jealous, and beer...lots of beer. Everything after the beer was lost to her. She looked at her rumpled clothing and was relieved to see them still on her. *Nothing happened, Buffy,* she told herself. *Even when you're drunk you're not that stupid.* "Get out," she said firmly to Spike.
"I can't, pet," he said with a slight grin. "It's daytime and I don't fancy a sunburn."
Buffy put a hand to her forehead. Damn, her headache was strong. She needed painkillers and fast. She flipped the covers aside and quickly stood up, walking to the door. Suddenly she felt dizzy and her vision was clouded with dark spots. When she realized what happened, she found that she was in Spike's arms sitting on the floor. His arms were tightly wrapped around her waist, holding her steady. For a split second, she indulged in the closeness and safety of his arms before remembering exactly who he was. He was the same vampire that had threatened to release Drusilla on her unless she admitted to the possibility of a future with him.
"Spike, get off of me!" she shouted, throwing his hands away and trying to stand up. He followed her up and helped her catch her balance. Again, she pushed him away and stalked off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Opening the door, she poked her head out. "Just don't take anything. Don't touch anything. In fact, don't even look at anything." she ordered before closing the bathroom door again.
Spike stood in her room dumbfounded. Last night she said she wanted the attention he was apparently giving to some 'Young-Blonde-Thing' and how she wanted to dance with him and kiss him. Of course Spike knew she was drunk, but maybe she was just speaking from her heart...it had only taken a few alcoholic drinks for her to break down the wall surrounding it. As for the 'Young-Blonde-Thing', Spike had no idea who she could be talking about. He didn't remember dancing with or kissing another woman, much less how he even got to the Bronze. *Probably following Buffy, as usual.* he thought to himself. He heard the shower start up and decided to head downstairs for something to eat, just to pass the time until he could get home and have a drink.
In the kitchen, Joyce and Dawn were talking.
"But Willow did the spell," Joyce said. "How could he be here?"
"Mom, I know what I heard," Dawn replied. "I heard him talking to Buffy last night. She was drunk or something. I'm sure Japan heard them coming up the stairs."
Just then, Spike could be heard thumping loudly down the stairs. Sure he'd heard them talking, but he'd pretend that he'd caught none of the conversation so there'd be no awkwardness. Yeah, right.
Joyce and Dawn stood silent in the kitchen as Spike walked in. His hair was mussed and his clothes were crinkled. Buffy could be heard upstairs in the shower. Immediately Dawn jumped to conclusions and could feel herself blushing the slightest bit. Spike didn't seem to notice as he was standing nervously under Joyce's glare. "I, um, just came down for--"
"Get out, Spike, or I'll stake you myself," she threatened. "And believe me, it'll hurt you a lot more than it'll hurt me."
Spike looked down in shame. "I can't leave yet," he replied quietly. "The sun is out." He was hoping Joyce might cut him a little slack. After all, she was the only one of the gang that treated him nicely, besides Dawn. He'd just been talking with her a few days ago about the Greek amphorae mix-up at the gallery...sure he'd threatened to harm her daughter, but that was in the past, and it had never bothered her until now. He looked over at Dawn, hoping for the slightest shimmer of acceptance, but only found disgust.
He took the hint and backed out of the kitchen, bumping directly into a freshly washed Buffy. "Watch it!" she complained, pushing past him and entering the kitchen. Upon seeing the faces of her mother and sister she gave them a reassuring look. "He'll be gone by dusk. And Willow can redo the spell."
Joyce looked somewhat relieved and returned to her task of making lunch, occasionally looking over her shoulder at Spike.
Dejected, he entered the living room and slumped down on the couch. Picking up the remote control, he flipped through the television channels. Finding nothing but Jerry Springer, news and cartoons, he turned it off. He sighed out of boredom and lay back on the couch, closing his eyes. After a minute, he realized that someone else was in the room with him. "What do you want?" he asked, after recognizing her scent.
"Just wondering why you brought me home last night," she explained. "I can understand that you probably want credit for it or something, but you had to have known that whatever I might have said last night wouldn't reflect on how I'd act today."
Spike nodded without opening his eyes. "Yeah, I realized that, but I'm not expecting credit, just a little respect." he replied.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I could've left you to pass out at the Bronze, or to walk home and get killed by a demon," he said. "But I didn't. And I didn't take advantage of you, even when you wanted me to. I respected you, you should respect me back."
"As always, your eloquence impresses me." she said sarcastically.
"I didn't mean it like that." he said, sitting up to face her.
"Whatever." she muttered, turning to leave.
"How's Dawn?" he asked.
"Coping," she replied. "She keeps using the 'I'm a Key' card to get out of troub--" Buffy then remembered who she was talking to. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" he asked.
"Pretend you care," she replied. "Pretend that we're friends."
"I'm not pretending, I'm just worried about Nibblet," he explained. "So stake me."
"Maybe I will," she said, turning toward the stairs. "I'll be back in a minute with a toothpick."
"How's your headache?" he asked.
"Fine. Still there, but--" she stopped short. "Stop doing that!"
Spike couldn't help but grin at her frustration. He loved getting under her skin. It made her pulse race and her face flush with anger. She'd never smelled more delectable.
He watched her storm off and chuckled to himself. There were still a few hours until sundown. This was going to be fun.
