Part Seven
Buffy didn't return to the house until after dark. She had spent time at the shop, gone patrolling and doing just about anything to keep her from having to return and face Spike. Buffy admitted to herself that she was also trying to avoid Tara. The witch was for more perceptive than was comfortable. All she could do is hope that Tara meant it when she said that she wouldn't tell anyone what she saw. That would be the worst thing that could happen right now. Or ever.
Deciding that she wasn't quite ready to face the other yet she detoured around the side of the house heading for the back porch. There had been precious few moments alone since she had been back and even less time to just sit and think. The events around her forced her to react, leaving her feeling out of control and set adrift, waiting for the next act of insanity to engage her.
Approaching the porch she felt a familiar presence and she let out a long sigh,
"Spike." Feeling thwarted and tired,
she slumped down on the step and buried her hands in her face.
Spike had felt her as soon as she turned onto the street and he had hoped that by coming out for a smoke on the back porch he could avoid her. When he saw her come around the side of the house he cursed, there would be no reprieve for either of them this night. "Slayer."
They sat there together, both lost in their own thoughts, neither one wanting to break the silence. Finally Spike's nervous energy won out, "The nibblet called earlier."
Buffy looked over at him, "What? Why are you answering my phone?" She didn't try to hide her irritation.
"Red answered the call."
"Oh. What did she say?"
"Not much. Said she was having fun with dear ol' dad and that she would ring back tomorrow." Spike stared straight ahead and into the darkness beyond the porch light. The quiet once again settled around them. This time it was Buffy who initiated speech.
"Is Tara still here?"
"No. When Red showed, she hightailed it out of here as fast as she could."
"Did-did she say anything? About
earlier, I mean. To Willow?"
For a moment Spike didn't say anything and Buffy began to get impatient. "Well?"
Taking another drag off his smoke he turned to look at her, "No, not that I'm aware of. Your dirty little secret is still a secret." After a moment he continued, "Ya know if you just told your friends about us-"
"No! No way! I don't want them to know anything. Ever! I mean it, Spike." There was no mistaking the threat implied by her statement.
Spike shook his head and took a drag off his cigarette before tossing it out into the yard. "Set myself up for that one, didn't I?"
Buffy felt a moment of regret at the bitterness in his voice but chose to ignore it. She just couldn't deal with Spike's hurt feelings right now.
"Thank you."
Buffy was surprised at the reluctant utterance from Spike, "For what?"
"Not takin' the opportunity to get rid of me once and for all, I know it would solve a lot of your problems."
"Oh." Buffy wondered at his implication that she would want him to be hurt or dust. They were sleeping together for cryin' out loud, and there was Dawn…
The tears that had been building for the past few days began to spill down her cheeks refusing to be held back any longer. As the deep sobs wracked her small body, Spike pulled her across his lap bending down to rest his head upon hers holding her as she gave in to her grief. Gradually the tears subsided and her sobs receded to whimpers as she tried to regain control of her breathing. Sitting up and wiping her face with the back of her hand she turned to look at Spike afraid of what she would see in his eyes. Unprepared for the raw emotion reflected in those arctic depths, Buffy panicked. Spike felt her absence even before she jumped up and ran into the house.
Spike remained on the back porch for a long time, smoking and starring at the midnight sky trying to convince himself that there was a future with her. That, despite her protest to the contrary, there was a time for the two of them together. Holding her while she cried had brought out feelings of tenderness and shared grief for her and he struggled not to follow her into the chasm of despair because that moment was for her. She was crying for all the guilt and shame and anger and pain that had been building for so long. Spike had not been surprised to see her run away from him, every time they were together it seemed like she was always getting ready to leave him.
Eventually Spike hauled himself into the house and sat in front of the television set in the living room not really seeing the pictures flashing on the screen. Only thinking of her and knowing that one day she would break him. He only hoped it was later rather than sooner.
A couple of hours before dawn, Spike stole up the stairs and entered Buffy's room, quickly stripping off his clothes and sliding between the sheets. So engrossed in his thoughts he failed to notice a small lump under the bedclothes until a dainty hand fluttered across his chest in a gentle caress. Looking over he saw the hazel eyes of his love staring up at him with sleepy desire and knew he could never refuse her.
Rolling over her he slanted his lips across hers in a kiss that spoke of urgent need and decadent cravings. This parody of love plays out with no beginning and no ending only two people destined to destroy one another coming together, imprinting themselves on one another. The one knowing that he will never experience another like her and the other knowing that she will suffer for her wanting of this creature. Yet they ascend beyond conscious thought, willfully and deliberately, to delay the inevitable hoping that maybe while they weren't looking the world became their sanctuary.
So the lovers shift and strain voicing their pleasure as the witch listened in horror.
Willow was downstairs the next morning fixing breakfast and trying to sort out what she had heard last night. Could Buffy and Spike really be having sex? Willow shuddered. Of course not, Buffy wouldn't do that would she? Spike was a vampire and unlike Angel, did not possess a soul. And, hello, Buffybot? That was just gross. He was evil.
"Hey, Will." Speak of the evil doer.
"Oh-hey Buffy. Hungry? I made some pancakes." Willow tried to hide how uncomfortable she was feeling by gracing Buffy with one of her super bright, cheery smiles.
"Wow, pancakes. Again." Maybe instead of making pancakes all the time you could pay rent. Buffy fought the bad Buffy down. "Sure why not? I seem to have worked up an appetite last night."
That innocent comment created a disturbing mental image of Buffy and Spike having sex causing the orange juice that Willow was currently swallowing to make a surprise comeback and she began to gasp and choke. A concerned slayer ran over to Willow and began to pound her on the back.
Willow sucked in air as tears streaming down her face finally able to breathe. "Wh-what do you mean you worked up an appetite last night?"
"Being a good slayer of bad monster types, of course. God, Will, did you get the extra pulpy kind or what?"
"I think I was inhaling instead of exhaling or something." Willow's voice came out raspy from her battle with the killer oj.
Maybe she should just come out and ask Buffy about the scary sex noises that she had heard coming from her room last night. That way Buffy could tell her that it was some late night sex movie on Showtime and Willow could try to regain her sanity.
"Um, Buffy? I was wondering…did you want to…well talk to me about anything? Ya know, whatever. I've been kinda out of it with the whole recovery girl routine but I want you to know that you can talk to me."
"Nope. Nothin' goin' on here what with Dawn in L.A. and all. Well there is the fact that I need a job and like, yesterday. Hey what do you think about me working at The Bronze as a waitress? There seems to be a lot of Hellmouth action there so I could work both jobs at the same time. Waitress slash Slayer. Serving drinks inside the club and saving the world from the evil that exists in the alleyway on my breaks. Good idea, huh?" Buffy was shoveling a forkful of pancakes in her mouth while she talked.
Willow gave Buffy an impulsive hug. "Oh, that's a great idea, Buff. Good luck job hunting. Gotta go, late for class."
"Uh yeah thanks." Puzzled Buffy watched
Willow slip out of the kitchen hearing the front door click shut a few moments
later. With a laconic shrug she
finished off her breakfast and cleaned up the dishes Willow had so thoughtfully
left for her, planning out her day. It
was time to find some steady income because waiting for the sky to open and
rain money just wasn't cutting it.
Quietly entering her room thinking that Spike was still asleep, she moved towards the closet to find something to wear that would look fabulous while begging for gainful employment.
Leather? Nothing says don't-hire-me-I'm-a-party-girl quite like leather.
Denim? Oh, yeah, the unprofessional college student look was much better.
Finally settling on a long mint green cotton skirt and a white peasant blouse she moved quietly around the room gathering the rest of her toiletries. Pausing at the door to look back at Spike, Buffy was startled to feel tears threatening. He looked vulnerable and so astonishingly beautiful that she had to fight the impulse to join him in the bed and spend the day in more pleasurable pursuits.
After Responsible Buffy won the mental tug-of-war she reluctantly walked out of the room and away from its tempting occupant.
An hour later Buffy walked into the kitchen to find a very much awake vampire leaning against the sink sans shirt. Buffy didn't acknowledge him as she made a direct line to the coffeepot telling herself that the clenching in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with the sight of his strong arms and smooth chest.
"Well, don't you look all spiffy. Goin' somewhere?" Spike's patented smirk was in its usual place, all irritating and-well-smirky.
"Yes." Buffy's chose not to elaborate on her comings and goings since it was none of his business.
Spike waited for the explanation that wasn't for a few moments before crossing the small distance between them and getting all up in her personal space. "How about you stay here instead and we could cuddle up in your soft fluffy bed and play hide the stake." His roaming hands had taken to rubbing her ass as he spoke and Buffy quickly smacked the offending limbs away.
"Real fucking charming, Spike. No wonder your such a hit with the high-school girls." With a roll of her eyes she sidestepped around his gorgeous self to rinse her cup out in the sink, the coffee suddenly loosing its appeal.
"You don't seem to mind."
"Oh, I mind plenty, I'm just temporarily insane at the moment and unable to access the part of my brain that deals in logic and reason." Thinking that this conversation needed to be redirected Buffy inquired about his injury. "So, how's the ouchie? All better now?" She looked him up and down checking for any errant trace of the poison.
Spike held his arms wide and looked down at his exposed side, "Yeah, seem to be. Thanks to your tender loving care."
"Spike, it is way to early for corny clichés." It was my tender loving care that almost turned you to dust. "Why are you up so early anyway, isn't this your nighttime or something?"
"Never was one to sleep much, too many things to do." Spike's gaze traveled around the room looking at everything but her. No way had he turned so poofy that he would tell her that he didn't want to sleep without her next to him. Nope, not this wanker, no sir.
"Spike, what do you have to do? Especially during the day when you can't go outside due to a serious case of sun allergy? Never mind. I have to be going now. Try not to eat all the food in the house and I'll bring more blood when I come back."
Spike grabbed her arm as she was walking towards the back door. "Back from where?" Before she could utter the flip reply that was hanging so enticingly off the tip of her brain Spike continued, "That demon is still after you Buffy."
Intense quiet voice, eyes devoid of humor and or horny motives, crap, he must be serious. Buffy turned and sighed, "Spike, the mortgage payment waits for no demon. I have to get a job and I can't wait for the demons to call a time out. Bills piling up equal urgency. Besides, he could show up here just as easily as he could out there."
Spike was incredulous. "A job? In case you haven't noticed you already have a job its called being the slayer and it's more than full-time."
"Yes but being the slayer doesn't pay actual money, ergo me getting a job that does."
Spike's ire was gaining momentum and Buffy was wondering if this pointless conversation would end and she could leave already. It was hard enough not throwing him down on kitchen table and taking him in every rude and immoral way she could think of and thanks to the past few weeks spent in his company, she could think of plenty.
"I have an idea, how bout those soddin' friends of yours chip in? Does Red pay rent? The whelp and his demoness should be rollin' in it, have they offered to help you out? Maybe after all the time you've saved their friggin asses not to mention the world, they could pitch in a little and help you and the platelet out a bit! And where the hell is your watcher, he just up and leaves you high and dry, bleedin' prince he is!"
"Spike, stop! It doesn't work that way, Willow and Xander don't owe me anything and they do help out with Dawn and frankly I am not up to dealing with Giles' hasty departure just yet. Please don't make this harder."
This was too much. Why did he have to say those things and give volume to her own petty thoughts on the subject. It would be nice if they offered monetary help but she truly didn't expect it, hoped for it definitely but didn't expect it. Stupid Spike anyway. Always knowing what she was thinking before she knew them herself. Maybe she talked in her sleep.
Spike lowered his voice and let some of the steam out of his temper as he grasped her upper arms in a gentle grip.
"Buffy, we can find another way."
That's it! "Spike there is no other way and there is no 'WE'. Drop it!"
She abruptly grabbed her bag and jacket and made with the quick feet to the door, slamming it shut behind her for emphasis.
Spike stood where she had left him yelling after her retreating form, "I could help if you'd just let me!"