Title: A Measure of Happiness
Author: Valerie
Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. I own nothing.
Summary: More post-Giftage. If you can wade through yet another Buffy resurrection, I promise there's some B/S sex a comin'!
Rating: R for adult concepts, language and semi-descriptive sex.
Spoilers: Through the end of Season 5
Feedback: Yes please!
Distribution: Sure.
Author's note: The title of this chapter, among other things, refers to the song of the same name by Sarah McLachlan.
Chapter 7: Ice Cream
They walked in companionable silence through the empty cemetery closest to her house. Ostensibly, they were on patrol, but neither was paying a whole lot of attention to the things going bump in the night.
"So, tomorrow's the big day," Spike said, stating the obvious. Tomorrow Buffy flew to London for two weeks to meet with and be tested by the council.
"Yeah."
"Nervous?"
"No. Yeah. What if they find something wrong with me? What if they decide that I'm evil and –"
"Do you feel evil?"
"No."
"Well, you don't look evil, and I know a little something about evil. You're you. You're Buffy. You're the Slayer."
"Am I? I can't do all the stuff I used to do," she complained.
"You're getting better every day. You'll be back to your old butt-kicking form before you know it." He smiled reassuringly down at her.
"Thanks." She stopped walking. "Spike, I'm really grateful for all this, I hope you know that. All this time you're putting into training and patrolling with me. I know it can't be easy for you."
"Why, because being a traitor to my kind has taken a slightly more active role? That doesn't really bother me."
"Actually, I meant... never mind," she trailed off, looking away.
His expression darkened. "What? Because of my feelings for you? You think I'm tortured by being this close to you? Awfully high opinion of yourself, haven't you, Slayer?" He began walking away from her.
Buffy stood there watching his retreating back, sorry that she had said anything. She chased after him and grabbed the sleeve of his coat, turning him to face her.
"I'm sorry, Spike, I don't know why I said that." She looked down. "I don't feel much like patrolling anymore. I think I'll just go home and curl up in front of the TV with some ice cream, then turn in early." She looked into his blue eyes again. "You wanna join me?"
He hesitated, torn between the enjoyment and pain that came with spending time with her. In truth, being close to her was a kind of torture. "Lead on, then," he finally said, indicating the way to Buffy's house.
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Buffy unlocked the door on the dark and empty house, Spike following her in. "Where's the Nibblet?" he asked.
"Spending the night with a friend." Buffy casually tossed her keys on the table, went into the living room, flopped onto the couch, and kicked her shoes off. She grabbed the remote from the table and started flipping through channels without really paying attention to the images that flashed across the screen. Spike grabbed the Ben and Jerry's from the freezer and a couple of spoons, setting them on the coffee table and sitting on the far side of the couch from her. He watched her for a time.
"Wow, it really is a vast wasteland, isn't it?" Buffy said, noting that the best things on were the Behind the Music on Donny Osmond and the E! True Hollywood Story on Three's Company. She flipped the TV off and turned to Spike. "So if you were actually a shy poet in your former life, what really happened the night Dru sired you?" She remembered the version she had gotten in the Bronze several months ago, and was fairly certain now that it wasn't true.
"You really wanna know?" He looked at her curiously. "Why?"
She wasn't really sure why she was asking. "Can't I be curious about your life?"
He shrugged. "I was at a party, as I said before. But the true story is that I sat quietly in a corner scribbling out God-awful poetry for much of the evening." He grimaced at the memory. "When I actually ventured out to mingle, I was humiliated in front of Cecily."
"Who?"
"Woman I was in love with. I was writing the poetry about her, you see. It was that night that I told her I loved her. And she said I was beneath her."
Buffy frowned, remembering that she had said much the same thing to Spike the night he had told her the reedited version of this story. Of course, he had been talking about killing her, but looking back on it, he was probably talking about loving her too. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, it was true. I was beneath her. Anyway, I was shattered, I ran out of the party in tears. That was when I met Dru. Thought she was a pick-pocket at first," he said, chuckling. "She offered me a new world. Didn't know what she meant, but I wanted it."
"So she drank from you, you drank from her, the rest is history, huh?"
"I suppose."
"Did you kill Cecily?" Buffy asked, swallowing hard, not wanting to know the answer. "You know, after?"
"You're thinking about Angel, right? Killed his family and his whole bloody village after Darla turned him." He stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. He was lost in the past. "I thought about killing her. Wanted to. I did kill several of the people who were at the party that night. I tracked her down. But I couldn't do it. Couldn't kill her. I ran from her." He looked at her, a crooked smile on his face. "So you see, Slayer, I've always been love's bitch. From the very bloody beginning."
She studied his face for a minute. For the second time in a few days, she noticed how attractive he was, something that her fear and loathing had never allowed her to see. And he loved her, she knew that now. She reached out and gently touched his cheek. "You aren't, you know."
His gaze was full of questions. "What, love's bitch? I beg to differ."
"No, I mean a monster. You aren't a monster," she said, remembering their last conversation before she died. She looked into his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you said you loved me. I didn't think you were capable of it. I was wrong." On impulse, she leaned toward him and gently brushed her lips across his. To thank him for standing by her, for protecting Dawn, for accepting her return from the dead with no conditions. When their lips touched, she felt something stir within her. She had planned the kiss to be chaste and brief, but for a few seconds she didn't pull away. He began to kiss her back, but with a certain amount of restraint. It was clear he wasn't sure what exactly was going on and was afraid of doing anything to shatter the moment. But when she opened her mouth to his, it was all the encouragement Spike needed. His cool hands went to either side of her face and he deepened the kiss, gently exploring her mouth with his tongue. She responded in kind and Spike moaned, melting against her. Buffy still wasn't very clear on how her thank-you kiss had developed into this, but she did know that this kiss was getting her more aroused than any kiss she could remember. Of course, it had been a long time, even longer if you counted the time she was dead. And, she had to admit, Spike was clearly an amazing kisser. She gave herself to it, pressing against him on the couch and wrapping her arms around him.
His hand drifted down to her thigh and ran slowly up her leg, then to her waist, where her bare skin was exposed between her T-shirt and pants. He ran his hand up her back under her shirt, trailing his fingers along gently in a maddening way that gave her little shivers of gratification. Buffy turned slightly and pressed him against the back of the couch, then climbed onto his lap, straddling him. She started moving the kisses from his mouth down to his neck while he deftly unhooked her bra and brought his hand around to touch her breast.
"Oh, God, Buffy," he whispered.
She pulled back and looked at him. "Let's go upstairs."
Spike examined her closely. "Are you sure?"
"Is that a requirement?"
He smirked. "If I said yes, I'd be pretty much the biggest wanker in the world. I want you so badly I can hardly see straight."
"Then I say again: Lets. Go. Upstairs." She punctuated each word with a kiss.
"OK."
She slipped off his lap, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to a standing position. Then she turned and led him up the stairs and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. As soon as it was closed, he slammed her against it, kissing her with a longing that could only be born of a year of needing her. She reached around and grabbed his ass, pulling him against her and feeling the physical manifestation of his need pressing into her. He was devouring her and she couldn't get enough.
Buffy pushed Spike away, aware of the fact that she didn't have to temper her strength with him. She reached down and pulled his T-shirt off over his head. He did the same for her, her unfastened bra discarded along with the shirt. He led her to the bed and sat down, pulling her onto his lap again. He took one of her breasts in his mouth and she gasped with pleasure and threw back her head, grasping the back of his neck as he teased her with his tongue. She ground against him on his lap and he moaned appreciatively.
"You know, pet, I've got to get these boots off at some point in these proceedings," Spike commented. She rolled off his lap and he bent down and began unlacing the boots in question. In the meantime, Buffy stood up and took off her pants and panties so that when he had finished with the boots he looked up to find her standing naked before him. He gazed at the vision in front of him. "You are so beautiful."
He stood and kissed her, and then reached to his belt and began unfastening it. Buffy lay back on the bed and watched him finish undressing. Then she took his hand tenderly and pulled him onto the bed with her.
The feeling of the length of his body against hers was heavenly. His skin was smooth and cool but not cold. He kissed her passionately, running his hand gently down the length of her body. When he touched her between her legs she cried out and arched her back, and he played with her until she was close to the edge and wild with desire. He climbed on top of her and moved his hips against her, and she spread her legs for him, yearning for the feeling of him inside her. When he entered her, she clutched his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.
They had sex like the fought. It was wild and instinctual and in perfect harmony. A few times Spike lost control of the demon and vamped out, only to shake it off and kiss her, finding himself again in her eyes. At one point they rolled over and Buffy was on top, riding him with her head thrown back and her long hair trailing down her back. When she came, she screamed his name, and the sound and sight of her ecstasy brought Spike to an equally mind-searing climax. Buffy collapsed on top of him and he clutched her hair, kissing her shoulder and murmuring in her ear. After a few minutes she rolled off and lay next to him, her arm trailing over his chest as her breathing and heartbeat gradually slowed. Without another word between them, she fell asleep. Spike reached over and turned off her lamp, careful not to disturb her slumber.
She woke a couple of hours later to see Spike by the light of the street lamp outside, his head propped on his arm, watching her intently.
"What?"
He smiled. "I figured I probably wouldn't ever get this chance again, so I shouldn't waste it by sleeping."
"Besides, you do sleep during the day."
"True."
"I'm thirsty," Buffy yawned, "I'm going to get some water. Can I get you anything?"
"Nothing, luv."
Buffy stood up and walked to her closet, grabbing a bathrobe and shrugging into it. As she walked down the hall, she shook her head. Had she really just had the most amazing sex of her life with Spike? She still wasn't sure what had come over her; her brain had been pretty firmly in the off position throughout the entire encounter. She had realized an attraction for him over the last couple of weeks, but it was a decidedly gigantic step from that to sex. She began wondering how big a mistake she had actually made tonight.
When she returned with the water, Spike had modestly covered himself with the sheet. She sat on the edge of the bed and sipped her water.
"So ... " she said.
"So ... " he replied.
After a long pause she laughed shortly. "Isn't the awkwardness supposed to start in the morning?"
"Well, you're leaving in the morning, so I thought we'd get a head start," he joked.
"Right." She took another sip of her water. "It was .. nice."
"Nice?? Are we talking about the same thing? Cause it was a lot more than 'nice'."
She grinned. "You're right. It was a lot more than nice."
He sat up and kissed her tenderly, cupping her face with his hand. All thoughts of mistakes and consequences and awkwardness flew out of her head and she returned the kiss. They made love again, slowly, each movement seeming to take an eternity. Afterwards, they both fell asleep entwined with each other, the only sound Buffy's slow breathing.
She woke again briefly to a gentle kiss on the lips. "It's almost dawn, so I better go, luv," he said.
"Um-hmm."
"Say hi to the Motherland for me, and give those Watchers hell."
" 'Kay."
He kissed her again, slipped from the bed, dressed, and quietly left the room. Buffy drifted back to sleep as a joyful vampire raced across Sunnydale to beat the sunrise and a pint of ice cream melted in a gooey mess on her coffee table downstairs.
TBC!