CHAPTER 18
The feel of empty space next to her awoke Buffy from her slumber. She moaned grumpily before her eyes shot open in fear. She sat up anxiously calling his name as her heart hammered in her chest.
"Spike," she called to the darkness, her voice husky from sleep and, prior to that, her screams of pleasure. "Spike?" she whispered into the darkness before her again. Was it all a dream? She asked herself. All of this? Faith. Him with me? She clutched the thin sheets tightly against her breasts, fearful of what was going on. Then the thought hit her. What if he's dead? I saw him die. No, it can't be.
"What can't be, luv?" a familiar voiced questioned through the shroud of lightlessness that blinded her. She glared over toward the sound and jumped as an orange flame blinked into existence. The orange beast rested atop a black altar. Then another and another. She stopped counting after awhile, her eyes closing in silent prayer. She could feel the warmth of the candles that now illuminated the once void of the crypt. Buffy exhaled raggedly as she laid her head back against the satin pillows, tears threatening her once again. It wasn't until the cool comfort of a familiar body lay next to her that they fell.
"Miss me, pet?" he asked seductively as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer. He knew the chance he was taking, with her being the queen of rejection and all, but his slight confidence in the matter was bolstered slightly by how she had held onto him not an hour ago as they fell into a post-coital embrace. And of course, there were the words she had spoken to him in the forest.
Relieved at her discovery that the last few hours wasn't just some torturous apparition in her mind, Buffy melted into Spike, her hand resting lightly on his chest. She tried to stave off the tears, or at the least hide them from him, neither goal being accomplished.
Spike was instantly aware of the all too familiar warmth of her tears as they fell upon his cool flesh. The arm wrapped around her brushed her hair absently while his free hand caressed her wet face.
"What is it, luv?" he asked, his concern evident as his guts tensed. He always hated to see women cry, especially Summers' women.
She didn't speak for several minutes and her breathing returned to its regular intervals, or as normal as it could get this close to him. All the while, her right hand traced over to the rapidly fading scar of his the stake had made when it was driven through his chest, only inches from his heart. She hadn't given much thought to it before, but it had healed unusually fast.
"You healed fast," she said, her fingers still wandering over the wound. She had tried for casual and failed miserably. Just the thought of how close she had been to losing him made her want to cry all over again but she refused.
Spike's cocked his head to the side, both her face and hand in his immediate vision. Though her eyes were hidden at an angle where he couldn't see them, the lines of grief at the corners of them were clearly visible. That, and the way her body tensed when she spoke.
"Seems I did," he offered, miffed at the fact just as much as she did. He absently ran his hand through his tousled blond locks before returning it back to her skin. This time, he rubbed gently against her forearm, feeling her hairs prickle at his touch.
"Guess it's the new O-neg I've been drinking. Gives a vampire healthy bones and all that rot." She chuckled and his face cowled at her indignantly. "What? Just 'cause a bloke's immortal doesn't alleviate him from ingesting the proper vitamins." She laughed again, softly but Spike couldn't help but feel enveloped by the warmth of her. It was a reminder as to why he first fell in love with her in the first place.
After a minute of residual chuckles, she fell silent again. Spike didn't mind the silence. At least she's not kickin' n screamin' for me to let her go, he mused. And it was true. The only times Buffy had ever hung around were when she passed out from exhaustion. After she awoke, however, it was ultimately, 'Thank you for that right proper scratchin', gotta go.' She never knew how much it hurt him every time she did it. Damn her, he thought, pouting inwardly. But it wasn't her fault, well not entirely. He was the one that always answered her call. True, he did tell her to leave that one time, but how long had his resolve lasted on that one? All the way until the next time she came calling.
Bloody poofter I am, he admonished himself, unaware of his muscles tensing. Buffy, though she was on the verge of dozing back off, felt the tension marinating within the vampire's cool body. Her dormant hand again began its circular jaunt around his chest. Some of the tension eased from him though there was still too much in reserves for her tastes. Her fingers lazily massaged his chest before she caught his nipple between her thumb and forefinger. He gasped as she kneaded it, his body filling with a more welcoming anxiety.
"Buffy," he whispered as her leg draped between his teasingly moved up and down, her thigh every so often bumping against his burgeoning erection. His around her shoulders fell limply against the pillow as he felt her petite hand grip his member.
"Buffy," he shuddered as her warm palm stroked him up and down, rekindling his insatiable desire for her. He was so lost in her gentle yet firm strokes that he was barely aware of her moving until she straddled his thighs. The warmth bled from her core as she moved it closer to his throbbing form of masculinity.
Buffy continued to massage the hard member in her hand as she stretched her legs out against his. She smiled at the content etched in is face and knew what she had to do.
Without warning, she raised her hips just enough to accommodate his entrance into her. Spike gasped, flinging his eyes open at the unexpected pleasure. He glared down the length of their bodies touching. Her legs rested artfully on his as if she was mirroring him exactly. To finish the image, her arms rested on his as the two lovers' fingers intertwined in a passionate embrace. Spike felt the ecstasy of her embrace though she barely moved. She chuckled at the surprise that registered in his eyes.
"Slayer muscles," she whispered to him as her lips traced his jaw line and her teeth gently closed around his bobbing adam's apple. He shuddered as she clamped down harder, this time against his jugular and a low growl echoed against her lips though she wasn't sure from whom it had come from. She smiled into his neck at the thought of her growling and tried to stifle it before he caught it.
"Something funny, Slayer?" he teased. Damn, she thought at being discovered, which only made her smile even more so. "Wanna let me in on the jo…oh," he said. She interrupted him by a purposeful squeeze of her inner walls. She knew this had caused the look of confusion on his face earlier but this time she had put most of her muscle into it. Needless to say, it accomplished the desired task.
"No talking," she cooed into his ear, simultaneously biting down on his earlobe. "Except for me," she added before he could protest. She found his slightly parted lips with her own and they joined in a passionate dance between lips and tongues. Several seconds passed before she had the coordination to implement the steady grind and rotation of her hips against him. He moaned, almost purred, inside her mouth, as she spilled her desire into his with every kiss. Every desire, she thought and broke their tangled kiss. She felt him tense with desire for renewed contact but she pulled away just enough to be out of reach of his patrolling tongue.
"Look at me," she commanded softly and his eyes fluttered open. She continued her deliberate rhythm, her swollen peak grinding against the base of his shaft. The kinetic pull of his body to hers was still unbelievable to her and she didn't want anything more to be enveloped by it. That's when she truly realized the reasons she had come to Spike in the first place.
She stopped the grind of her hips and looked at him…really looked at him. He motioned to speak but she placed a trembling finger over his lips. She stared into those blue orbs of his, barely able to hold his gaze. But she had to. She had almost lost him today and she had to convey the rest of the message to how she felt for him. When she said she wanted to make love, she had meant it. With those few words, she had lowered her walls just enough to admit that she did care for Spike. She cared for him a lot more than she was willing to admit. The point of it her migration to his friendship then to his loving embrace was never because he was convenient (she shuddered at the cruelty of that word). True, he did make her feel when she thought all her senses were dulled beyond retrieval. He made her feel with a capital 'F' but that was not the only reason. Nor was the reason the comfort of trading barbs with him; that only was an extension of feeling for the fire she had lost. Though all of it had been important, there was one thing she was loathe to admit about his presence.
It made her feel safe.
Buffy didn't truly understand how feeling something and feeling safe were different, she just knew that they were. Try as she might, during the whole Glory ordeal, she felt his protective shroud around her. The absurdity of it was astounding. How could you feel safe with someone you didn't completely trust? She didn't know the answer and again she only succumbed to the fact that it was true.
Buffy removed her other hand from his and rested her palms flatly on his chest. He deserved to know that. All of it. He needed to know that he was something more than just a 'convenience'. Despite his bravado, Buffy could read his insecurities about their trysts. Even now, after they had made love on her behest, still there was that certainty in his eyes that it was only a matter of time before she kicked him to the side, all the while wiping her feet from the dirt rubbed onto her from him. There was no way she could alleviate all his fears, but she could lighten some of the burden at least.
"Look at me, Spike," she said, her hips discovering that familiar rhythm. He gasped and his long lashes fluttered. "Don't close your eyes," she prodded and he complied, albeit with great difficulty.
Spike looked at the beauty above him in reverie. I don't deserve this, he scolded himself. I am the antithesis of all she stands for. I can only hurt her in the end. How can't I? I'm just a soulless monster, incapable of love…
Buffy saw the wavering in his eyes and knew where his thoughts were heading. Though he was strong and hard inside of her, she could see him breaking, withering within. A tear escaped from her hazel eye and splashed onto his pale skin. When he didn't look up, Buffy knew his despair was growing. Finally, he did look up, concern flashing over his eyes and despite it all, she knew it would be fleeting. This creature's…no, this man's love for her, was slowly eroding him. All the times he had declared his love for her, she had only thrown it back into his face, violently. Sometimes with her fists, other times with words that were far more damaging. How could she fix this? The only way was for her to be honest with him. But how could she when she couldn't be honest with herself?
Buffy rocked against Spike, his erection exploring her deeper with each grind. His wide eyes, temporarily clear from the pain, were transfixed as her body moved up and down on him. She knew what he needed, what he needed to hear. And the more the thought crossed her mind, the more she realized that it was true. Of course, there were the parts that denied it as well, but as her lover would scoff, sod all else.
She cupped his angular cheeks in her hands, her gaze never wavering from the marveled vision of love staring back at her. The warmth she felt from that look quickened her pace. It was only a matter of time before they spilled over the edge of ecstasy into indescribable borders of pleasure. She had to say something now. Something she could bring herself to say.
"Look at me, Spike," she repeated her words from several minutes ago. Their eyes locked and she knew there was no turning back. "Remember this. If you ever doubt how I feel about you, remember how I'm looking at you now," her core tightened around his shaft and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. But she had to finish now while the iron was hot, before she lost her nerve.
"Remember the way my…body responds to you," she stuttered as the first wave hit her, "and the look in my eyes. Promise me…" she screamed his name as the orgasm ripped through her petite body. Still, her gaze never wavered. "Promise me," she choked as another heated spasm rocked her core.
Spike was in awe of her. She was, as best she could, baring her soul to him. He didn't know what to say and was unaware as the words "I promise" fell from his lips as he simultaneously began his extensive release into her.
"Tell me," she panted as the second orgasm slowly crept into her loins. "Tell me…"
He didn't need her to elaborate as the needful look in her eyes spoke volumes.
"I love you, Slayer…Buffy, I love you," he gasped as his explosion died into languid spurts.
Finally, as her second tide of pleasure ebbed, Buffy fell forward onto Spike's chest, her face nuzzled between his shoulder and neck. The lovers' pants were in sync though only one required oxygen. They lay there, for several minutes before her body tensed again. Spike wanted to ask her what was wrong but, surprisingly, she beat him to it.
"Don't leave me," she forced out in the voice of a child begging not to be scolded. His undead heart seized at the raw fear in her voice. His mind raced. He wanted nothing more than to spit her a litany of soothing words to assuage her fears. But whether it was ten words or a hundred, it didn't matter. What mattered was the conviction behind them. So he answered succinctly.
"Never, luv."
He felt her body slightly relax before she said, "Promise?" He thought that word over. Could he actually promise that? What if she threatened his life? What if he had to go away to protect her? What if…?
"Promise, luv," the simplicity of his reply cutting away all his what-ifs. All but one.
Spike felt Buffy relax and almost immediately fall into a resting sleep at his assurances. He did know one thing and one thing only; that no matter what happened, what she said or did, he would never leave her alone. Even if that meant staying away from her yet being there when she needed to be, he would do it regardless of the pain it would cause. He would do it because he loved her, wholly and completely.
He closed his eyes and drifted off to the land of dreams next to his love. The last thought he remembered had been the only 'what-if' that refused to die. She had made him promise not to leave and he had done just that.
But what if she was the one that left him?
That last thought was enough to drive away any chances at a peaceful slumber.