Author's Note: Someone pat me on the back for finishing this chapter! It took me five days to write! pant pant, wheeze wheeze Someone was beating me over the head with a writer's block. pout Short but sweet. And there's a reason for the first part of this chapter, something to do with the upcoming overhaul of the "Him" episode. That and gratuitous Spuffy moments that we all know and crave…
Review, please!
Chapter 10She slept fitfully that night. It wasn't that the bath hadn't been relaxing, quite the contrary. Her mind wouldn't let her rest, though. She tossed and turned, trying to get to a position in which she could attain sleep. None was forthcoming. Thoughts of Spike, who lay on his mattress less than six feet away, plagued her. In her dreams, she had nightmares. She dreamt of being ripped from Heaven. Only the Heaven she was ripped from was in Spike's arms. She dreamt of his love for her and how she had beaten him down, with physical blows and verbal attacks. She had ripped herself from Heaven. Or at least as close as she could have gotten to it here on earth. She was being given a second chance at that. Was she willing to take it? Or was she just too scared…
She tossed again, winding up on her side, facing Spike. She gasped softly, noting how she could see clearly into his open eyes through the darkness. He was staring at her, watching her, with what appeared to be deep concern.
"H-how long have you been awake?" she murmured, trying to recover from being startled.
"Never went to sleep. Been watching you all night," came the reply.
"Why?"
He propped himself up on one elbow. "I should think the answer'd be obvious, lu-… Buffy." His brow creased slightly. "What's got you so worked up that you aren't sleeping? Something wrong?"
"No," she lied. "I'm fine. Really. Just a little restlessness. I'm in need of a good slay."
Even in the darkness, she could tell he was raising an eyebrow at her in disbelief. When had she gotten so attuned to his mannerisms? She heard movements and in the dim light could see him propping himself up on one elbow to look at her better. The action caused the blanket to slide down off of his shoulders and pool around his waist, revealing a very sculpted, if scarred, chest and abdomen. She had to keep her eyes focused on his face… No! Do NOT stare at the sexy vampire… BAD Buffy…
She heard him speaking. "Buffy?"
Yes, my name. Good. That would be me… "Hmm?"
"You're staring." His voice rumbled softly in that low chuckle of his.
Nope, definitely hasn't lost his touch… Soul or no soul…And is he naked under there?… NO! Bad Buffy!
"See?" he chuckled. "What is it?"
Buffy blinked. "What is what?"
"You're going to play innocent now?"
Damn skippy. "Innocent about what?"
He growled softly. "Never mind. Try to get some sleep, eh, Slayer?"
Silence descended on the pair as Spike lay back down to try to catch some sleep. Finally, after tossing here and turning there a few more times, Buffy turned to face the vampire's form in the darkness. "Spike?"
"Yes?"
Pause. "Thank you for my bath."
She didn't know that his mind was now caught up in the memory of her lips on his. "I think you already thanked me enough, Buffy," he murmured softly. She heard him violently toss on the air mattress, then a subsequent POP! as the mattress revealed its distaste for the action. The high-pitched whine of air quickly leaking out of the mattress distracted her only momentarily from the sight of Spike flailing amongst blankets and rapidly deflating rubber. Soon, he was tangled up, and when the thrashing stopped and she could stop giggling, she made out a very distinct "Bloody hell!"
She poked her head over the edge of the mattress so that she was looking at him more closely. With an impish grin she said, "Now, now… Such language from someone with a shiny new soul… Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
Whipping the blanket off of his head enough so his face was showing, his hair skewed at a rakish angle, he smiled suggestively at her. "Come a bit closer, Slayer. We'll see who this mouth winds up kissing…" He struggled with the blankets and the deflated mattress a bit more.
Taking pity on him, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and went to the futile battle that was being fought. Apparently, the bedclothes were winning. "Here," she giggled, unwrapping the blanket from around his neck, his shoulders peeking through a bit more. Biting the inside of her cheek to distract herself from feeling those shoulders, she continued working on the knot that was Spike. She studiously avoided the hint of a glimmer that came from his eyes, which were currently staring at her.
He stopped struggling and let her work, content to watch her. He took his gaze off of her face only momentarily as he took in her spaghetti-strapped top and pajama shorts. With his advanced sight – the only time in recent months he had thanked anything for being a vampire – he could see the swath of abdomen that was showing between the two garments. He fervently hoped that Buffy managed to get him loosened enough to where he could handle the rest of the mess on his own, before she discovered the certain discomfort that had arisen not too far from where her hands currently were.
She continued working at the tangle of blankets and mattress, finally getting an arm free. She jumped slightly when his now-free hand snaked out and grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her from continuing her actions. She stared at him in the darkness, looking into his eyes, which were now cloudy with lust. It was a look she hadn't seen him give her, openly, in a long time. Certainly not since his return trip from Africa. No words came to her, she simply gazed back at him.
"Buffy," he ground out, huskily, "I can take it from here." Her lower lip jutted out in a pout and he groaned softly, fighting every instinct that he had to kiss her. "Luv, please don't do that…"
Something beneath the mess of covers jumped against Buffy's hand and her eyes widened in momentary surprise. Then a smile played across her lips. Now she knew that Spike had it just as badly as she did. Play time… "But, Spike," she said through her continued pout, "I was just trying to help. How was I supposed to know you were naked under there…?"
His eyebrows raised suddenly in shock, then he smirked back at her. "Some things never change, you know."
"Oh," she said lightly. "I just figured, you know, with the new soul and guilt tripping and all, you'd be decked out in flannel pajamas or something." She shrugged, ignoring the errant strap that slipped down her shoulder, exposing the tops of her breasts.
Somehow finding the strength to suppress another groan, Spike threw his head back in frustration. "Arghh… I feel guilty about killing people, pet. Not about sleeping bloody naked!"
"Well you should," she replied blithely, flipping her hair back over one shoulder. "Evil vampire."
A raised eyebrow. "Something bothering you now, luv?"
A retaliatory smirk. "Apparently not as much as it's bothering you, Spike, dear." Giving his throbbing area a pat, she stood, offering her hand out to him. "Come on."
"Beg pardon?"
"You can't exactly sleep on the floor, vampire or not."
Tentatively, he grasped her hand and stood, careful to keep the blanket secured around his waist. She reached behind him to pick up his pillow and guided him around the end of her bed to the other side. His eyes widened and he backpedaled, crashing to the floor as his feet tangled up in the blanket once more. "W-hat the hell…?"
Irritated, she blew air through thinned lips. "Spike, you never used to be this afraid of getting into my bed… If I recall, you used to try for it regularly."
He shot her a dirty look. "Yes, but that was before I completely lost my mind. Apparently, it's catching," he muttered as a finishing statement.
"I heard that. Now get up. You're not sleeping on the floor, and I won't have you naked on the couch when Dawn comes home." She hauled him up and pushed him to the bed. "Don't worry. You stay on your side, and I'll stay on mine."
"I don't know if it'll be that simple, Buffy," he murmured.
Climbing into her side of the bed, she stared into his eyes. "Spike, things have really been going the way of the wacky lately. And when it comes to you, nothing is ever simple." She continued talking as she settled him in, tucking the blanket securely around him and settling the pillow under his head. "I don't know where things are going, but know this: Things are up for a major overhaul in Buffyland."
His arms were crossed protectively over where the blanket ended around his abdomen, and he couldn't take his eyes from hers. "Still doesn't explain you lettin' me in your bed, after…"
"Spike? Shut up." She sighed and lay back down, resting her head against his where his shoulder met his neck. "I don't have an explanation. Not yet anyways. But this… feels right." She lifted her head slightly and planted a soft kiss against his cheek. "You never know what you have till you lose it… Or in my case, push it away. But I swear to whatever gods are out there that if you leave me again I will find you and shove a stake up your ass."
He chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she snuggled up against his chest. "Seeing as how that'd be a mite uncomfortable, I think I'll just stay here then, Buffy."
A brief pause, then, "Call me pet."
He brushed his lips over her forehead before closing his eyes to sleep. "Whatever you say, pet."
I will never get over how the collision of a mass of sweaty bodies is still considered a sport, Buffy mused as she and Dawn ate lunch, while watching the Sunnydale High School football team practice. For me, that's just a good evening of slayage…
"So what is it?" Dawn interrupted her thoughts.
"What's what?"
"Well, anytime I've talked to you you've told me you weren't helping Spike out of pity, so what is it?"
Buffy raised the soda can with the straw in it to her lips, pausing to look at Dawn through her sunglasses. "It's a good question." There was silence as she sipped her soda and stared at the sweaty teenage males on the field.
"Is sitting there drinking soda some kind of a Zen non-answer?" Dawn quipped.
"No, I just… I don't know what I'm feeling. I think I can't stand him, but sometimes…" Her voice trailed off as she replayed last night's events in her mind.
"You love him?"
"No," she said, a little too abruptly for it to be truth. "I feel for him."
Dawn flipped her hair as she peered at her sister. "Feel what, exactly?"
Buffy shook her head and looked away. "Dawn…"
"No, I'm just trying to understand. I mean, none of it makes sense. First you say Spike disgusts you but secretly you two are doing it like bunnies. And then Spike says he'd die for you but he tries to rape you." Dawn's brow furrowed as her hands waved in the air.
Buffy sighed deeply. "For the record, Spike knew how wrong it was. That's why he went away."
"But to get a soul? Like that would make him a better man? Xander had a soul when he stood Anya up at the altar. And now he says he still wants her? I just don't think it's the school basement that's making people crazy." The younger girl shook her head in dismay.
Buffy started to gather her things, glad to get this conversation over with. "I should really get back. You coming with?"
Her sister didn't move, still gesturing wildly in the air with her hands. "I just don't see why people bother. I mean, you put all this energy into chasing and having and brooding and— I just don't understand these relationships where you all do insane things."
Buffy smiled and waved. "Bye, rant girl."
Dawn stared at her sister's retreating back as she continued speaking. "Well, you could like paint a beautiful mural on every ugly wall in the world and then you could paint a beautiful mural on every ugly mural in the wor—" Her words failed her as her gaze fell on the quarterback of the football team, sweaty, panting, and putting on a well-worn letterman's jacket. He doused his face with water, shook his head, and slowly made his way off the field.
Mesmerized, Dawn followed him with her eyes until she leaned too far forward. With a scream, she fell off the bleachers.
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TBC!