A dappled light danced over them as they lay in bed. Spike woke
first, wondering why he felt so warm and comfortable… and how he'd managed
to wake up with his arms round the Slayer. 'Shame she's got her back to
me,' he thought, but didn't move.
Buffy woke soon after, though, and went through an almost identical thought pattern. She, however, tried to slide out of his arms, thinking he was still asleep. 'What he doesn't know…' only to find that his arms tightened round her.
"Oh, no you don't," he chuckled. "I like the feel of you there. Nice and warm. And anyway, you like it." She didn't respond, still trying to wriggle free. "Mm, you do like it, don't you?"
She tried to deny it, but the words wouldn't come out. 'No lies…' she thought despairingly. All he was doing was holding her, and yet…
"Tell me…" he teased. "Tell me if you like it…!" No reply. "Please, tell me…" he whispered pleadingly.
"Okay! I like it," she snapped. 'Bugger, didn't mean to say that!'
"Stop struggling, then, woman," he murmured. "No need to struggle if you like it…"
She relaxed slowly, not quite sure why she'd admitted to it. But it was true – she did like the feel of it, his strong arms holding her, his chest against her back. She closed her eyes. 'Yes… like this…'
She wasn't the only one who liked the feel of it. But Spike decided not to push his luck too far, too soon. 'Get her used to cuddling up, she'll soon want more,' he thought, grinning.
Eventually, hunger got the better of them and they got up, finding fresh clothes in the chest again, and breakfast on the table.
"So… you going to show me this beach?" he asked as he cut himself a slice of bread.
"If you want," she replied, giving him a small smile.
"Mm, I do want," he said. She blushed and tried not to show she'd even thought he might have meant something else.
"Okay, then, right after breakfast," she promised.
She decided she liked the beach better with company. 'Even Spike's company was better than that awful loneliness,' she thought as they sat watching the waves lap lazily on the sand. She yawned, stretched, and lay back, enjoying the companionable silence. 'Spike was okay to be around when he shut up,' she thought.
She became aware of something tickling her neck. "Stop that!" she warned, opening her eyes to see Spike wielding the offending feather, "Or you'll regret it!"
"Oh? Can't hurt me, Slayer!" he teased.
"No… but I can tickle you back!" she grinned, pushing him down onto the sand and sitting astride him, tickling him till he begged for mercy. She sat back and smiled. "That'll teach you!"
"Doubt it!" he quipped back, flipping her over and tickling her again, as she tried to wriggle from underneath him, squealing with laughter.
"Stop it! Stop it!"
"Mercy?"
"Mercy! Please, stop it!" He let her go, and she lay there panting, trying to get her breath back, realising she'd actually quite enjoyed it, even though she usually hated being tickled.
"Sorry, just too tempting. Fancy a swim?"
'God, thought he was going to say something else then!' "Uh – no bikini…"
"So? Who's looking?" he said, raising a scarred eyebrow.
"You, probably," she threw back amiably.
"Aw, Slayer's shy…" he teased. "Nothing to be ashamed of, love, you've got a neat little figure there. Anyway," he smiled disarmingly at her, "nothing I haven't seen before."
"Nothing you… when was that, precisely?"
"This morning when you were getting dressed. Took your time about it… lovely floor show, pet!" he grinned.
"You're…"
"A pig Spike?" he mimicked. "Oh, c'mon, love, what guy wouldn't have looked? Most would have jumped you by now, anyway," he added, trying to look virtuous and failing.
She scowled. "It's not fair. You're taking advantage!"
He chuckled. "And of course you haven't taken a single peep, have you, love?"
She blushed and refused to answer, knowing that she couldn't deny it.
"So…" he said lazily, "you coming for that swim or not?"
"Uh – yeah. Turn your back while I…" she looked away, realising that he was already half-naked.
"Sure you don't need any help?" he teased.
"Sure. Thanks." She undressed, knowing full well he was watching her. Without turning to look at him she walked towards the shore.
She was waist deep when she found her legs pulled from under her. "You bastard!" she spluttered when she resurfaced. "I'll get you for that!" and with that she began splashing him, finding she wasn't nearly as irritated as she could have been. 'It was – fun, in a strange kind of way,' she thought, as she tried to dodge his attempts to duck her. Diving down under water, she swam round him before jumping onto his back. Only to find herself being pulled under with him. She came up spluttering, finding herself in his arms. 'Not quite how the plan went…'
"Well, now, here's a turn-up for the books," he grinned, noticing her discomfort, and holding her against him for longer than was necessary for her to get her breath back. Only when she was really blushing did he let her go, watching her swim back to shore with admiration – and not a small amount of lust. He decided not to follow immediately.
She was already dry and dressed when he got back to shore, studiously ignoring him. So he lay down to dry off right in front of her, his naked body glistening with drops of water. 'Now try and ignore me!' he thought.
She did try to ignore him, but found her eyes being drawn back to him time and again, desperately trying not to show it, much to Spike's amusement. He was very well aware of the effect he was having on her.
"Enjoying the view, love?" he taunted her, watching her blush in confusion.
"Uh… yeah. Um. Nice sand," she said inanely.
"Weren't looking at the sand, though, were you, pet?"
"Uh – no," she squeaked.
He smirked. "Didn't think so." He stretched, blatantly flaunting his nakedness. "Looking at me, weren't you love?"
"Uh – well, I – that is – not deliberately."
"Liked what you saw?"
She couldn't look him in the eyes, knowing that he already knew the answer, and was only asking because she couldn't lie. "Um," 'you could just not answer. But that would still be admitting it.' She could feel his eyes on her, daring her to answer as she watched the last few drops of water sliding down his muscular body. And almost wishing her fingers could take their place. "Um. Yeah." She flushed, refusing to look at him.
He chuckled. "Thought so."
"Uh – I think I'll head back," she stuttered. "Need a drink." She fled.
He smiled to himself as he watched her go.
She wondered how he could be so blatant. 'Just lying there in front of me – no shame – no flaws… except the scar on his eyebrow. Which actually was quite – attractive…' She shook herself. 'No more thoughts like that!'
She drank the water thirstily. Her mouth had gone very dry. But she'd actually enjoyed the morning. Leisurely breakfast after lazing in bed, having fun on the beach… 'You know, he's actually very good-looking. Very attractive,' whispered the voice in her head. 'I kind of noticed!' she sniped back mentally, annoyed at admitting it even to herself. 'God, that body…' her fingertips itched.
Spike was wise enough not to inquire into her thoughts as he sat down beside her. "Still got sand in your hair," he commented.
"Mm. I'll wash it out after lunch." She knew he was watching her. "So, what did you do yesterday?"
"Oh, explored a bit. Found a nice glade, stream running through – just sat and enjoyed the sunshine, really." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Show you later, if you like."
She nodded. "Mm, sounds good."
After cleaning the sand from her hair, she followed him to the glade, delighted by its beauty.
"Come here," Spike called from the stream, "and I'll teach you how to tickle trout…"
"Not nearly as much fun as tickling vampire!" she giggled as she followed his instructions.
He raised an eyebrow. "Bard, please!"
She giggled again. "So, how did a vampire – sorry, Bard – learn to tickle trout?"
"Learnt when I was a boy. Had a friend I stayed with in the country sometimes. Rob. Real country boy at heart. Parents' groundsman had taught him… course, they didn't approve of it. So he did it all the more, and taught me…" He smiled quietly, sadly to himself. "Poor Rob…"
"Why?"
"Thrown by his horse and killed," he said abruptly.
Buffy wished she hadn't asked. The memories were obviously still painful, even after all this time. 'Must've been good friends,' she thought, wondering if anyone would grieve for her for that long. 'Angel, maybe…' she thought, a little voice inside her trying to suggest that Spike also would.
The tension broke as, to her surprise, Buffy caught a trout, holding it in the water a little before letting it go.
"Real natural you are, love," he said approvingly. "Took me much longer to learn!"
She was amazed at the glow of pride his praise caused in her. Amazed at how much she'd enjoyed the day, enjoyed his company. 'When he wasn't being antagonistic in any way, he could be – well, nice, in a funny sort of way,' she thought, looking sidelong at him as he gazed up at the sky, humming quietly.
He noticed her watching him. "What?"
She shook her head. "What was that you were humming?"
"Oh – nothing, really, just something I made up…" he said, looking embarrassed. "Has some words to go with it…" he added.
"Can I hear it?" she suddenly seemed eager.
"Uh – well, yeah, if you want…" he was flattered, though nervous, knowing what the usual reaction was to anything he wrote. 'Still, give it a go.'
She smiled. "Well, don't bards serenade ladies? I mean, it's kinda part of the job description…"
He smiled back at her in the dusk. "Sure…" He cleared his throat, and started singing in a soft, warm baritone:
"Soft starlight becomes you well, my love,
Under a summer sky; when high above
Shines the fair, pale, bride-like moon,
And the nightingales warble their tune;
When around us, the scent, summer-sweet
Of grass rises, crushed under our feet,
Mingled with the salt of the sea
As she sings her low song, tranquil, free;
And in the cool and lulling breeze,
Sleepy and gentle wave the trees."
Silence fell for a while.
"That – was beautiful…" she murmured. It had been.
He blinked, surprised. "You – you liked it?"
"Yeah…"
"I…" he looked suddenly bashful. "I wrote it for you." He looked at the ground, expecting derision and rejection. 'Like Cecily all over again,' he thought, wondering why he'd let himself be talked into it. 'Because you wanted to,' taunted an inner voice.
"F-for me?" She felt tears stinging her eyes, suddenly touched. "C- can I – have a copy some time?"
He looked up at her, suddenly hopeful as the starlight glimmered on her unshed tears. "You – like it that much?" He couldn't believe it.
She nodded, reaching out and touching his hand gently. "People don't tend to write poetry and songs for me…" she said. "Can't explain, really, but – you know, it's nice that someone thinks you're worth writing for."
Suddenly he saw her as a girl, not the Slayer. Just a girl, with all the insecurities that came as part of that. And the loneliness of her calling. Not being able to have a normal life, have fun… tickle trout, and… and have nice, romantic guys writing soppy love-poetry for her. No normal, teenage things. 'Poor kid,' he thought, a pang of compassion sweeping through him. 'Yes – they were both isolated, in a way…' "I'll do you a copy tomorrow. There's paper… no, I'll give you the original."
"Signed?"
He wondered if she'd ever cease to amaze him. "Yeah. If you want."
She nodded. "Mm." Something struck her. "I thought you said you were a bad poet?"
"Well – I am usually. Don't know how it happened. It just – well, it just – kind of – happened…" he tailed off.
"Well. I like it, anyway," she said decidedly, getting to her feet. She smiled, holding out her hand to him. "Supper?"
"Mm," taking her hand to pull himself up.
Supper was companionable, and Buffy found herself less uncomfortable when it came to bedtime. She nestled willingly into Spike's arms, welcoming the chaste kiss on her forehead.
He didn't care to admit how much her reaction to the song had touched him. No one had really liked any of his poetry before – even Dru had laughed, sometimes. But Buffy – had liked it. 'Almost cried, she liked it so much.' He felt the lump in his throat, and scolded himself for being soft. It didn't help. 'You are soft, when it comes to the blonde in your arms…' whispered the voice. 'In my arms!' he smiled, gently touching the blonde hair scattered on the pillow, a few locks curling onto his shoulder and chest.
She felt as though nothing could be more perfect than this moment, wanting it to last for as long as possible. But her eyes were determined to close. She slept, a smile lighting her face.
Buffy woke soon after, though, and went through an almost identical thought pattern. She, however, tried to slide out of his arms, thinking he was still asleep. 'What he doesn't know…' only to find that his arms tightened round her.
"Oh, no you don't," he chuckled. "I like the feel of you there. Nice and warm. And anyway, you like it." She didn't respond, still trying to wriggle free. "Mm, you do like it, don't you?"
She tried to deny it, but the words wouldn't come out. 'No lies…' she thought despairingly. All he was doing was holding her, and yet…
"Tell me…" he teased. "Tell me if you like it…!" No reply. "Please, tell me…" he whispered pleadingly.
"Okay! I like it," she snapped. 'Bugger, didn't mean to say that!'
"Stop struggling, then, woman," he murmured. "No need to struggle if you like it…"
She relaxed slowly, not quite sure why she'd admitted to it. But it was true – she did like the feel of it, his strong arms holding her, his chest against her back. She closed her eyes. 'Yes… like this…'
She wasn't the only one who liked the feel of it. But Spike decided not to push his luck too far, too soon. 'Get her used to cuddling up, she'll soon want more,' he thought, grinning.
Eventually, hunger got the better of them and they got up, finding fresh clothes in the chest again, and breakfast on the table.
"So… you going to show me this beach?" he asked as he cut himself a slice of bread.
"If you want," she replied, giving him a small smile.
"Mm, I do want," he said. She blushed and tried not to show she'd even thought he might have meant something else.
"Okay, then, right after breakfast," she promised.
She decided she liked the beach better with company. 'Even Spike's company was better than that awful loneliness,' she thought as they sat watching the waves lap lazily on the sand. She yawned, stretched, and lay back, enjoying the companionable silence. 'Spike was okay to be around when he shut up,' she thought.
She became aware of something tickling her neck. "Stop that!" she warned, opening her eyes to see Spike wielding the offending feather, "Or you'll regret it!"
"Oh? Can't hurt me, Slayer!" he teased.
"No… but I can tickle you back!" she grinned, pushing him down onto the sand and sitting astride him, tickling him till he begged for mercy. She sat back and smiled. "That'll teach you!"
"Doubt it!" he quipped back, flipping her over and tickling her again, as she tried to wriggle from underneath him, squealing with laughter.
"Stop it! Stop it!"
"Mercy?"
"Mercy! Please, stop it!" He let her go, and she lay there panting, trying to get her breath back, realising she'd actually quite enjoyed it, even though she usually hated being tickled.
"Sorry, just too tempting. Fancy a swim?"
'God, thought he was going to say something else then!' "Uh – no bikini…"
"So? Who's looking?" he said, raising a scarred eyebrow.
"You, probably," she threw back amiably.
"Aw, Slayer's shy…" he teased. "Nothing to be ashamed of, love, you've got a neat little figure there. Anyway," he smiled disarmingly at her, "nothing I haven't seen before."
"Nothing you… when was that, precisely?"
"This morning when you were getting dressed. Took your time about it… lovely floor show, pet!" he grinned.
"You're…"
"A pig Spike?" he mimicked. "Oh, c'mon, love, what guy wouldn't have looked? Most would have jumped you by now, anyway," he added, trying to look virtuous and failing.
She scowled. "It's not fair. You're taking advantage!"
He chuckled. "And of course you haven't taken a single peep, have you, love?"
She blushed and refused to answer, knowing that she couldn't deny it.
"So…" he said lazily, "you coming for that swim or not?"
"Uh – yeah. Turn your back while I…" she looked away, realising that he was already half-naked.
"Sure you don't need any help?" he teased.
"Sure. Thanks." She undressed, knowing full well he was watching her. Without turning to look at him she walked towards the shore.
She was waist deep when she found her legs pulled from under her. "You bastard!" she spluttered when she resurfaced. "I'll get you for that!" and with that she began splashing him, finding she wasn't nearly as irritated as she could have been. 'It was – fun, in a strange kind of way,' she thought, as she tried to dodge his attempts to duck her. Diving down under water, she swam round him before jumping onto his back. Only to find herself being pulled under with him. She came up spluttering, finding herself in his arms. 'Not quite how the plan went…'
"Well, now, here's a turn-up for the books," he grinned, noticing her discomfort, and holding her against him for longer than was necessary for her to get her breath back. Only when she was really blushing did he let her go, watching her swim back to shore with admiration – and not a small amount of lust. He decided not to follow immediately.
She was already dry and dressed when he got back to shore, studiously ignoring him. So he lay down to dry off right in front of her, his naked body glistening with drops of water. 'Now try and ignore me!' he thought.
She did try to ignore him, but found her eyes being drawn back to him time and again, desperately trying not to show it, much to Spike's amusement. He was very well aware of the effect he was having on her.
"Enjoying the view, love?" he taunted her, watching her blush in confusion.
"Uh… yeah. Um. Nice sand," she said inanely.
"Weren't looking at the sand, though, were you, pet?"
"Uh – no," she squeaked.
He smirked. "Didn't think so." He stretched, blatantly flaunting his nakedness. "Looking at me, weren't you love?"
"Uh – well, I – that is – not deliberately."
"Liked what you saw?"
She couldn't look him in the eyes, knowing that he already knew the answer, and was only asking because she couldn't lie. "Um," 'you could just not answer. But that would still be admitting it.' She could feel his eyes on her, daring her to answer as she watched the last few drops of water sliding down his muscular body. And almost wishing her fingers could take their place. "Um. Yeah." She flushed, refusing to look at him.
He chuckled. "Thought so."
"Uh – I think I'll head back," she stuttered. "Need a drink." She fled.
He smiled to himself as he watched her go.
She wondered how he could be so blatant. 'Just lying there in front of me – no shame – no flaws… except the scar on his eyebrow. Which actually was quite – attractive…' She shook herself. 'No more thoughts like that!'
She drank the water thirstily. Her mouth had gone very dry. But she'd actually enjoyed the morning. Leisurely breakfast after lazing in bed, having fun on the beach… 'You know, he's actually very good-looking. Very attractive,' whispered the voice in her head. 'I kind of noticed!' she sniped back mentally, annoyed at admitting it even to herself. 'God, that body…' her fingertips itched.
Spike was wise enough not to inquire into her thoughts as he sat down beside her. "Still got sand in your hair," he commented.
"Mm. I'll wash it out after lunch." She knew he was watching her. "So, what did you do yesterday?"
"Oh, explored a bit. Found a nice glade, stream running through – just sat and enjoyed the sunshine, really." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Show you later, if you like."
She nodded. "Mm, sounds good."
After cleaning the sand from her hair, she followed him to the glade, delighted by its beauty.
"Come here," Spike called from the stream, "and I'll teach you how to tickle trout…"
"Not nearly as much fun as tickling vampire!" she giggled as she followed his instructions.
He raised an eyebrow. "Bard, please!"
She giggled again. "So, how did a vampire – sorry, Bard – learn to tickle trout?"
"Learnt when I was a boy. Had a friend I stayed with in the country sometimes. Rob. Real country boy at heart. Parents' groundsman had taught him… course, they didn't approve of it. So he did it all the more, and taught me…" He smiled quietly, sadly to himself. "Poor Rob…"
"Why?"
"Thrown by his horse and killed," he said abruptly.
Buffy wished she hadn't asked. The memories were obviously still painful, even after all this time. 'Must've been good friends,' she thought, wondering if anyone would grieve for her for that long. 'Angel, maybe…' she thought, a little voice inside her trying to suggest that Spike also would.
The tension broke as, to her surprise, Buffy caught a trout, holding it in the water a little before letting it go.
"Real natural you are, love," he said approvingly. "Took me much longer to learn!"
She was amazed at the glow of pride his praise caused in her. Amazed at how much she'd enjoyed the day, enjoyed his company. 'When he wasn't being antagonistic in any way, he could be – well, nice, in a funny sort of way,' she thought, looking sidelong at him as he gazed up at the sky, humming quietly.
He noticed her watching him. "What?"
She shook her head. "What was that you were humming?"
"Oh – nothing, really, just something I made up…" he said, looking embarrassed. "Has some words to go with it…" he added.
"Can I hear it?" she suddenly seemed eager.
"Uh – well, yeah, if you want…" he was flattered, though nervous, knowing what the usual reaction was to anything he wrote. 'Still, give it a go.'
She smiled. "Well, don't bards serenade ladies? I mean, it's kinda part of the job description…"
He smiled back at her in the dusk. "Sure…" He cleared his throat, and started singing in a soft, warm baritone:
"Soft starlight becomes you well, my love,
Under a summer sky; when high above
Shines the fair, pale, bride-like moon,
And the nightingales warble their tune;
When around us, the scent, summer-sweet
Of grass rises, crushed under our feet,
Mingled with the salt of the sea
As she sings her low song, tranquil, free;
And in the cool and lulling breeze,
Sleepy and gentle wave the trees."
Silence fell for a while.
"That – was beautiful…" she murmured. It had been.
He blinked, surprised. "You – you liked it?"
"Yeah…"
"I…" he looked suddenly bashful. "I wrote it for you." He looked at the ground, expecting derision and rejection. 'Like Cecily all over again,' he thought, wondering why he'd let himself be talked into it. 'Because you wanted to,' taunted an inner voice.
"F-for me?" She felt tears stinging her eyes, suddenly touched. "C- can I – have a copy some time?"
He looked up at her, suddenly hopeful as the starlight glimmered on her unshed tears. "You – like it that much?" He couldn't believe it.
She nodded, reaching out and touching his hand gently. "People don't tend to write poetry and songs for me…" she said. "Can't explain, really, but – you know, it's nice that someone thinks you're worth writing for."
Suddenly he saw her as a girl, not the Slayer. Just a girl, with all the insecurities that came as part of that. And the loneliness of her calling. Not being able to have a normal life, have fun… tickle trout, and… and have nice, romantic guys writing soppy love-poetry for her. No normal, teenage things. 'Poor kid,' he thought, a pang of compassion sweeping through him. 'Yes – they were both isolated, in a way…' "I'll do you a copy tomorrow. There's paper… no, I'll give you the original."
"Signed?"
He wondered if she'd ever cease to amaze him. "Yeah. If you want."
She nodded. "Mm." Something struck her. "I thought you said you were a bad poet?"
"Well – I am usually. Don't know how it happened. It just – well, it just – kind of – happened…" he tailed off.
"Well. I like it, anyway," she said decidedly, getting to her feet. She smiled, holding out her hand to him. "Supper?"
"Mm," taking her hand to pull himself up.
Supper was companionable, and Buffy found herself less uncomfortable when it came to bedtime. She nestled willingly into Spike's arms, welcoming the chaste kiss on her forehead.
He didn't care to admit how much her reaction to the song had touched him. No one had really liked any of his poetry before – even Dru had laughed, sometimes. But Buffy – had liked it. 'Almost cried, she liked it so much.' He felt the lump in his throat, and scolded himself for being soft. It didn't help. 'You are soft, when it comes to the blonde in your arms…' whispered the voice. 'In my arms!' he smiled, gently touching the blonde hair scattered on the pillow, a few locks curling onto his shoulder and chest.
She felt as though nothing could be more perfect than this moment, wanting it to last for as long as possible. But her eyes were determined to close. She slept, a smile lighting her face.