Do What You Have To Do
Part XI
The midnight winds blew across the Sunnydale night, the coolness licking at the skin of the two former lovers, who remained unaware of the goosebumps dimpling their flesh. Their attention was singular in its focus, intent upon the warm feel of lips and tongues melding as one. In their minds, the world had fallen away, leaving Buffy and Spike as the only two inhabitants.
To Buffy, the solitude of kissing Spike was familiar yet distinctly foreign. As her hands roamed up and down the expanse of his back, kneading his hard muscles through his jacket, her mind wandered to the parallels of their previous couplings. The way he made her feel now, as if she were the only person in the world, was no different than when she had gone to him all those years ago just to feel. Though his flesh was warm, the way his hands roamed over her body and his hardness pressing against her stomach lit the same desire within her core that it always had. And just like before, she wanted nothing more than for him to fill her up completely, tripling the heat of her core with stroke after stroke.
For Spike, the arousal that had always snaked through him at the slightest scent of Buffy was in full swing. Two years and humanity hadn't dampened the hunger he had always felt for her. If anything, he wanted her more than ever, though he couldn't fathom how that was possible. His hands blazed along her petite body, appreciating the familiar feel of her curves. There was no part of her that he had not committed to memory and the feel of her against him was as natural as it was for him to breathe.
"Spike," Buffy moaned into the kiss when his hands cupped the bottom of her ass. Spike managed not to smile as she wiggled against his hands. She jumped into his body, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The momentum caused him to stumble but he quickly regained his balance. The erotic position only fueled the desire between the two and they kissed with an even greater tenacity as their hands explored one another even more greedily.
Buffy barely registered the coolness of the stone as Spike backed her into the wall of the mausoleum though she shivered in anticipation as Spike's hands furthered their ministrations and one stealthily maneuvered between her legs. Her tongue lashed at his with an even greater fervor and her hips ground against his fingers that rubbed her through the fabric of her jeans.
Spike's lungs burned at the lack of oxygen though he pushed the thought from his mind. His only concern was the burgeoning passion pulsating between them. He continued stroking at the heat given off from Buffy's core, her arousal intensifying his need.
"God, Buffy," he moaned at their lips separated momentarily, "I love you so much," and his lips devoured hers once more.
Buffy barely had time to take in air before Spike's lips were on her. She clawed at his back, wishing desperately for more contact with his skin though not wanting to pull away. His hand continued its purposeful mission to stimulate her and the building pressure in her lower abdomen slowly filter down to her more intimate parts. Her hips gyrated in sync with his prodding fingertips, anxious for her release. She moaned in disappointment when Spike broke the kiss but it was forgotten when Spike nipped at the flesh just above her jugular.
When they had been together before, Spike's teeth at her neck sent shivers of fear down her spine. It was the uncertainty of it all that aroused her. Though Spike loved her, he was still a vampire and Buffy was never sure that his love for her would override his primal instincts to take her blood that called out to him. It was an automatic stimulant for orgasm when he bit down on her neck, just hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to draw blood.
Tonight was no different.
Buffy screamed Spike's name as her body spasmed uncontrollably against his hand, her heat burning through the fabric to his palm. Spike silenced the convulsing slayer with a languid kiss, massaging his tongue against hers while his hands gently caressed her hips. He pulled away from the kiss and though Buffy's hands were tangled in his brown locks, she did not pull him forward. Instead, she stared into his cerulean eyes and Spike saw the still smoldering flame of desire behind her hazel jewels. But as he peered deeper into her gaze, he saw something else, something he had sworn he'd seen two years ago, something that he had wanted so desperately for her to admit the night he had almost…
Reality slammed into him and the intimacy of the situation sent a wave of nausea and disgust through the former vampire. With preternatural swiftness, Spike pushed away from Buffy and the slayer barely had time to brace her fall with her hands.
"What the hell?" she cried, rubbing her tailbone that had thumped ungraciously against the concrete. She turned fiery eyes toward Spike though they immediately cooled at the site of the former vamp.
"I…I," he stammered, his oceanic blue eyes filled with unshed tears. Buffy watched Spike's chest heaved uncontrollably, his eyes wide in terror. Buffy ignored the pain in her lower back and walked cautiously over to her distraught friend.
"Spike," she said gently, her hand tentatively reaching for his trembling hand. He stood there, his eyes staring at her though Buffy doubted that he actually saw her. When her fingers touched his, he jerked away as if scalded and brought his hands up in front of him.
"Don't," he pled, "I'm a monster. Just stay away, please, stay away," he choked though the words were lost as he dissolved into tears. Buffy took advantage of Spike's distress, pushing his hands down and held them at his side. He put up a token resistance before collapsing his weight on her and Buffy barely had time to adjust to him. Placing her hands around his neck, she lowered them both to the ground as Spike clung to her waist in desperation.
"Shhh, lover," she cooed, as she stroked the back of his head, her own tears falling despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. "It's okay, William, it's okay." She sighed when he began to relax and she almost purred when his hands started massaging her lower back.
"Buffy fall down go boom," he whispered, his voice muffled by her hair. Before she could pull away, Spike poked her in the side and she jumped out of his grasp. She pushed him away none too gently and he chuckled on his back.
"You think that's funny?" She demanded, standing over him, hands on her hips.
"Well," he replied, his eyes staring up at the stars or the trees--anything but her. "You did do the whole 'eek' thing, love. And the look on your face; priceless."
"Well Mr. Sunshine," she scolded before her eyes lit with a childlike impishness, "If you think that is funny, you're gonna love…THIS!" And without further preamble, the slayer pounced on the unsuspecting Spike, knocking the air out of him. But she didn't give him time to catch his breath, instead attacking his ribcage with prodding fingers.
Spike was at a disadvantage and he knew it. It wasn't just the lack of oxygen that had him defenseless but the feel of the slayer straddling him that put all counter attacks on hold.
"Give up?" Buffy asked as her fingers danced across his ribs and she bit her lip to keep from laughing at the wriggling form beneath her. Though she was having fun, she was stalling, hesitant to prod him about his breakdown and even more apprehensive at discussing what had just happened between them. Of course, straddling the guy that just brought you to orgasm may not be the best way to break the ice, genius. Her inner voice scolded. Buffy agreed and moved to get off but as she dropped her guard, Spike sat up, seizing her by the hips.
"Going somewhere, Slayer?" He asked and Buffy needed nothing more than to look into the tumultuous storm of his eyes to pick up his returning desire. That and the deliciously stiff member that rubbed against her ass.
"Spike," she gasped though he had made no motion to stimulate her. His scarred eyebrow raised in amusement and his hands slid up and down her hips.
"That's my name, pet," he replied, cocking his head to the side. Buffy could hardly resist the sly grin that spread across his lips and, if she weren't paying attention, she would have missed the dried tear tracks along his cheeks.
"What happened?" she queried, her desire forgotten as her concern for Spike's earlier condition returned.
The mischief drained from Spike's face and he immediately lowered his head in shame. "Nothing," he replied and Buffy had to strain to hear him even this close. She sighed, knowing she would have to be quite the persistent slayer if she wanted to get any answers from him.
She stood, brushing the dirt from her pants before offering a hand to Spike. He took it, though his eyes never lifted from the ground as she helped him up.
"Come on," she said and started through the cemetery, never letting go of his hand.
Spike said nothing as they wove their way through the tombstones. Though he was not looking forward to her questions, he took comfort in the warmth of her hand in his. His mind wondered as he followed her. Not ten minutes ago, they had been on the verge of--of what, he didn't know--but they were on the verge of it. After two years of not seeing her, to kiss and touch her like that was too much to ask for, let alone do. But he had done it, had brought her over the edge and the sight of her eyes, dark with anticipation of more had been too much for him. Part of him had wanted nothing more than to taste her essence before immersing himself into her warmth. The other part of him, however, was disgusted that he would even touch her like that, not caring that she initiated it. He had had to get away from her lest he convince himself that he actually deserved anything more than her friendship.
But you do, came the argument from his more rational side of thought, she's forgiven you. Remember? The trouble was, though he knew forgiveness was something he ultimately needed, he wasn't so sure that he deserved it so soon.
Spike was broken from his reverie when Buffy came to a halt and he walked into her.
"Clumsy much?" she scolded though her lips twitched into a smile and Spike returned the gesture and absently scratched at the back of his head.
"Just playin' 'follow the leader', pet. Wasn't expectin' to stop so soon," he noticed where they were and his eyes scrunched in confusion, "or to stop for a visit at my once humble abode." She quirked an eyebrow at his bewilderment and waved her hand at the surroundings.
"Well, no one expects the unexpected."
"What? Watcher-Man teach you that one?"
"No," she muttered and suddenly found her shoes quite interesting, "I heard it in a song when I was in high school."
"And my that be from the Aged Wisdom of the Backstreet Boys? No, wait. Must be Britney." He chuckled at the look of horror on her face.
"You are so off base with that one. Britney? Don't you think that I have at least a shred of dignity? Don't answer that," she ordered and slapped him in the arm when he waggled an eyebrow at her. Shaking her head, Buffy studied the side of the crypt, taking in its height. After a moment of silent analysis she turned to Spike while bracing her hands against the cool stone of the monument.
"Boost me up." Spike looked at her skeptically and with a hint of mischief in his eyes and Buffy blushed, and shook her head in annoyance. "Not like that, you pig. Like this," she lifted her leg and motioned towards his hands. When he didn't comprehend, she groaned in frustration. "Put your hands together so I can climb to the top."
"And you want to do this for?"
"Just do it, please." Spike sighed and cut his eyes playfully before complying with Buffy. He bent his knees and locked his fingers together and bracing herself, Buffy put her foot into the palm of his hands.
"So," he said as he hoisted her up to the roof of the crypt, "who's the philosophical genius you've patterned yourself after?"
"What?" She asked as her hands gripped the edges of the roof. Buffy pulled herself up in one fluid motion. Lying on her stomach, she glanced over the edge and reached her hand out. Spike took in and she pulled him up.
"Thanks," he said and they both brushed the dirt from the front of their clothing. Spike removed his jacket and placed it on the stone surface, gesturing for Buffy to sit on it. She nodded her thanks, a childlike smile creeping across her lips before she positioned herself on it, hugging her knees to her chest.
Spike imitated her posture, aware of the sizzling air between them.
"So," he drawled, "who's that philosopher of yours? The one spewing the rot about expecting the unexpected?"
"Eight-Ball," she replied sheepishly. The Brit cocked his head to the side and regarded the petite woman next to him. Her strength of body and spirit were so great, that he sometimes forgot how small she really was. She was twenty-three now and yet she reminded him so much of the sixteen year old girl he had seen dancing in the Bronze all those years ago. It had been the first time in two days that he realized how dead she really was when she had come back. The vibrancy that radiated from her now, though still not as bright with the innocence of her youth, still caused his heart to swell and he wanted nothing more than to shield her from the creatures of the night that would continue to prowl in the shadows, waiting for that one good day.
Forcing himself from the depressing and painful thoughts of her death, Spike refocused on her answer. With his patented smirk firmly in place, he replied "Didn't think you were one for the narcotics, luv."
"Huh? What? Oh, no Spike." She snorted derisively. "Not that kind of Eight-ball. Eight-Ball as in the rapper." Buffy laughed at incredulous stare aimed at her and responded before he could ask. "It was an LA thing, okay." She chuckled silently to herself, catching Spike shake his head in disbelief.
"Buffy Summers listening to the negative influences of hip hop music," he said sarcastically, "I will never look at you the same."
"You're a dork, Spike," she joked, bumping him playfully.
Spike grinned before turning his attention back to the sky. The clear night gave him a perfect view of the twinkling stars and he inhaled the cool air, thankful for its calming effects. Right now he was content to say nothing and enjoy the companionable silence between he and Buffy but he knew that wouldn't last. She was going to start asking him questions sooner or later—questions he did not particularly care to answer though he would not deny her queries. How could he, when he had several questions of his own for her to answer?
Might as well enjoy the peace now, he thought, because it won't bloody last. And that was so true. Nothing between him and the slayer ever had.
"You know," Buffy's words cuts through the silence, "it is beautiful up here." I've always been able to gauge Buffy's mood through her voice. Like her eyes, it gives her away and its now dulcet melody expresses her content to just sit here. I'm happy to hear her so whole though I can't help but feel unwarranted bitterness creep up my spine at the thought her finally coming up here. How many times had I asked her to just sit and gaze at the stars? How many times was I shot down for it? I wanna say it doesn't matter, though, but for some reason I can't.
"Would've been nice if you would've come up here with me before," I say and my tone is a little to sour for my tastes. She lowers her head shamefully and I instantly feel like a heel. But before I can apologize, she props her head up and glances at me sideways.
"I know," her voice is small but in the next moment it's almost hopeful, "better late than never, though, right?" I peek at her from the corner of my eye and see the timid and confused look on her face. Okay, the timid I get but not sure where the confusion's from. Guess I better store that tidbit for later observation. Instead, I throw her a wink and she relaxes visibly.
"That's what they say," I add before turning my attention back to the stars. It's not that I'm so interested in them any more, but they are a distraction, and that's something I need considering that I want nothing more than to reach over to Buffy and ravage her till the sun comes up. And, whatta ya know? No bloody sun allergy to interrupt. Of course, the thought of ravaging her brings forth memories of the bathroom…and the trials. Bloody hell. My stomach is churning, threatening to spill whatever contents are resting in it. S'not like I'm not used to it. Every time I think of that particular trial—marathon, more like it—I get the urge to toss my cookies though I haven't in over a year. Gotta thank Rachel for getting through to me to put it out of my mind. Don't know where I'd be right now if it weren't for her. Not here, that's for sure.
"Spike?" Buffy's voice breaks through my cloudy thought and I turn to her, eyes downcast. What the bloody hell? If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was feeling a tad bit guilty thinking of Rachel like that. Whatever…
"Yeah, pet?" I watch her play with the tips of her boots, her nails glistening in the moonlight. Her head lolls back and forth, a telltale sign of her reluctance to start. "Come now, Slayer," I encourage, turning her chin up with my finger, "none of that. I know you wanna be one with the questions. Ask away." She smiles at me and my heart flutters at the beauty of it. When she looks at me like that, I am helpless to resist her. I would travel through every hell dimension known to man and back again just to get her to smile at me like that again. For a moment, I envision the content that I feel at seeing her like this is exactly what heaven offers—Buffy's smile. And I know that that smile would last me throughout eternity.
"What happened? Earlier." Her question breaks me from my temporary attempts at again becoming the pathetic poofter of a poet. Of course, it's not without consequence as the joy immediately simmers and I am left with the memories of my breakdown not one hour ago.
My mind goes blank in how to answer that. How do you tell the one person you love above all others that you had to endure thirty days of nonstop violations of her all in the blink of an eye? Doesn't matter if it was an illusion or not, the point was that I watched as I tore her clothes, penetrated her amidst her cries and pleas for me not to. It was me that ripped at her throat, reveling in the taste of her warm blood as it coated my throat. It was me that laughed as she gurgled on her own fluids while I pounded into her harder, cackling unmercifully.
"Spike," she calls and reaches a hand out to me. I pull away instinctively, my body coiling with tension. I look at her, guilt clouding my vision. That and a bloody influx of tears spilling from my eyes.
I swipe my arm viciously across my eyes, desperately attempting to push the tears into oblivion. I've had to fight so many internal demons in the last two years, holding most of them at bay. But that one memory of Buffy, her robe torn, and the subsequent trial relating to that are the only things I cannot defeat. They haunt me even when I am smiling and I know that, one day, if I don't do something, they will destroy me.
The feel of Buffy's hands as she cups my face pulls me back into the present. Not even realizing that I closed my eyes, I open them to find my slayer in front of me, her legs are splayed on either side of me. The kindness in her eyes is almost too much and I choke back a sob.
"Hey," she chides, "none of that." I smile ruefully at her wording and she rewards me with another brilliant smile of her own. Immediately, I feel the pain dissipate though its shadow continues lurking just beyond the periphery of my thoughts.
"Sorry, pet," I say and rest my hands on her ankles. Her smile fades and her eyes fill with a determined solemnity. Bugger, that's the Buffy resolve face, not as effective as Red's by half but it gets the job done nonetheless.
"So, can you tell me what that was about back there?" I move to drop my eyes but her hands hold my head firmly in place. Sighing dramatically (which grants me a trademark Buffy eye roll) I fix my gaze to hers, scrambling for words. Finally, I know where to begin, though I know the pain that will be in her eyes will only compound her guilt.
"Remember when I told you about the trials I went through in Africa?" I ask and run a shaky hand through my light brown locks. I idly think about dying it again but put that thought on hold when she answers.
"Yeah," her hands fall to my boots and she plays with the laces though her eyes never leave mine. "And from the way you were talking about them I'd say you were quite proud at beating your opponents."
"Yeah," I smirk, thinking about how good it felt ripping Fire Boy and Demon Two-Heads apart but my skin crawls when I think of the beetles that burrowed into my flesh.
"All but those beetles, I'd say," she smirks as my hands rub up and down my arms.
"Yeah. The thing is, Slayer…Buffy…the thing is that demons with two heads and fists of fire weren't the only things I had to endure. I only told you those because I was proud of besting those gits."
"And the beetles?"
"Well, a man's gotta boast about his stamina sometimes," I joke but she sees through my hubris right away.
"What is it?" She asks and her tone brokers no argument. This time I do drop my head, fumbling for words, how to make her understand without repulsing her. I don't know if the latter is even possible. No matter how I sugarcoat it, she'll be disgusted, wholly and completely. Hell, she'll probably stake me where I sit; though a stake isn't even necessary anymore.
She waits patiently for me to begin, her body still and calm though I can almost hear her heart beating. She knows it's something bad, awful even, but I doubt she really understands…but doesn't she?
"What was the worst moment of your life?" I ask and already know the answer.
"When I had to kill Angel," She doesn't even hesitate to say it and I'm proud of her. The slight flinch in her eyes betrays her calm exterior but I say nothing, offering her an understanding smile in support.
"I've done some horrible things, Buffy. Things that aren't in your Watcher's books. I don't really think you'd even be this close to me if you knew some of the things I've done. Things I have to live with for the rest of my life. I deal with them quite well, I should say, because I know I can't change what I did. Still, that doesn't make it all go away. It'll always be there, in the back of my mind, the soddin' guilt, like a faithful companion. I don't even try to ignore it, just acknowledge it and move it.
"But there is one thing that I can't shake. Two things, actually. The night I failed you up on that tower," I hold up my hand when she motions to speak, "I know, I did my best and considering the job that hell bitch did on me the week before, it's a wonder I was still vertical. Knowing that doesn't change the fact that I failed you. It's okay now, though, seeing you better, alive." My hand comes to my face and I stroke the short stubble on my chin thoughtfully. I want to tell her that as ecstatic as I was every time she came to see me, a part of me died. It wasn't because she was using me but because I blamed myself for all of it. If I 'd stopped the Doc, she wouldn't have had to sacrifice herself. But I dare not tell her that. S'enough already what I am about to say.
"Up until the…up until the bathroom, failing you on that tower was the worst moment of your life. But that night in your bathroom, that night distances my failure on the tower by…it's just worse, Buffy.
"Even though you died because of me, seeing you in pain like that, clutching your robe in pain, physical and emotional, was worse than seeing your body on the rubble. At least you had a look of peace about you then. But my violation of you—what I almost did…"
"But you didn't," she says emphatically.
"But what if I had?" My voice is a whisper even to my ears and I doubt that Buffy hears what I said. By the look on her face, however, she does.
"But you didn't," she repeats. I shake my head in frustration. Not at her, but at the situation.
"But you're wrong, Slayer. I did."
"Uh, Spike," her tone is one of annoyance, "I think I would know if you had r-raped me. Don't you think?"
"Don't you see, Buffy? I know I didn't do it, but in here," I point to my head, "I did it. Not once or twice, or, hell even three bloody times. In here, I did it over and over again, nonstop for thirty days. Didn't matter that those thirty days happened in an instant because, to me, it was thirty days…" When I finish, I realize that I was half shouting though at Buffy's look, I know that it was necessary. Confusion turns to comprehension to horror as her brain processes it all. I shut my eyes tightly when I watch a tear fall down her cheek. I will not bloody cry again. I will not bloody cry.
I feel her stand and my heart breaks. I knew she would be disgusted and I doubt after tonight I'll ever see her again. Fine be me, I don't deserve…
But as quickly as self-pity threatens to tear me apart, reed thin arms with the strength of a dozen men wrap around my neck as delicate legs stretch out on either side of me. Buffy pulls me to her and at first I resist but those little slayer arms don't take no for an answer.
She rocks me like that for several minutes and I cry silently in her embrace while I tell her the rest of what went on during those thirty days. My tears are partially from relief at telling her and her acceptance of me. The rest are left over from that night and I don't think I will be ever rid of those.
"I can't imagine," she says, "living the day I had to kill Angel over even once. But to see it, to have to live through it like that, I couldn't do it. I would go insane."
I chuckle humorlessly. "Think that was the general idea, pet. Have someone live out their worst fear like some bloody movie marathon doesn't usually end with the contestant with the soundest of minds. Way of thinning out the herd. Not many have kept their sanity, you know."
"But you did. You did," she whispers the last part in my ear and kisses me on the side of my head. I can't help but smile at the gesture and the admiration in her words. Never thought I get that from Buffy but hey, never thought I'd get a soul either.
As my hand idly caresses her forearm still wrapped around my neck, I can't help but wonder what other things out there that I never thought I get that are within my grasp. I purposely refuse to think about the beautiful woman whose limbs are holding me. Of course, just because I refuse to think about it doesn't mean that my mind cooperates. And instead of fighting it, I embellish the thought but remind myself to take it slow.
Baby steps.
"Your turn to spill, Summers," Spike said after twenty minutes passed. Buffy still had not relinquished her hold on the former vampire, instead drawing him closer with her chin resting on his shoulder.
Buffy sighed, closing her eyes tightly. There was so much in her mind that she didn't know where to begin. She didn't know what to tell him and what to save for a later date.
"Stop plotting Slayer and out with it," he teased and nudged her. Buffy squeezed him tight enough to be called uncomfortable before letting go.
"Remember whose in whose hands, buddy boy."
"No place else I'd rather be, pet," he countered and Buffy couldn't help but sigh at the heartfelt comment. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent permeating from Spike, a mixture of the new and the old. Gone were the smells of blood and cigarettes and alcohol, replaced by some sort of killer after-shave that made her swoon. But the staple musk that made Spike was still there and it was comforting.
Resigning herself to being honest, Buffy forced the words out of her mouth.
"I'm scared, Spike," she said and was taken aback by her own directness. Spike moved to turn around but she held him in place. "Don't," she murmured, "I don't think I'll be able to finish if I have to look you in the eye."
"Buffy," Spike began but she put two fingers over his lips.
"Promise me," she said, her fingers trailing the angle of his jaw, "that you won't interrupt. I know I said I've changed but right now the old Buffy is kicking and screaming to get out and make me run for the hills. Just keep me here and listen, and I promise I'll get through it the best I can." She closed her eyes, waiting for his response, which he gave by bringing her fingers back to his lips and kissing them.
"Promise, luv."
Taking another deep breath, she continued. "I was crying earlier because I'm scared. Before I saw you two days ago on stage, I didn't know what would happen when I saw you. I told myself I had forgiven you and I did. I do. But still, there was that uncertainty about things likes how I would react seeing you. Gotta say, not too well at first although…"
"Although what?"
"You did look kinda sexy in that tight shirt on stage." Spike's body shook with silent laughter though he remained silent. "Anyway, the point is that the first time I saw you on stage, I wanted you. That shook me up a bit and when I confronted you in the office, a part of me--the old Buffy--was disgusted with me wanting a guy who tried to r…to force himself on me. I was so confused at what I should feel for you, Spike. I mean, yeah, we were mortal enemies but we became friends somewhat. And then after I came back--well, we know what happened there. The point is that you brought this mess of emotions within me to the forefront and they were warring for supremacy. Old Buffy won for a moment as you saw with the bitch Buffy mode I was in. But after I got that out of my system, as bad as it got between us, I didn't want to lose you again. I wanted you in my life."
Spike's heart shot up at Buffy's confession though he remained calm on the outside. She had said something similar in the Blue Song but for some reason, the words touched him in an even deeper way now. He didn't know if it was her saying it a second time or her tone but he hoped her next words would enlighten his mood.
"Going to the Waffle House, talking about us was a new experience. We've never done that before, though I know I have to take the blame for that one. Still, I felt so comfortable with you, like we've been together for years. My mind wasn't thinking about Dawn or the bathroom or Garrett," she felt him tense ever so slightly at the mention of Garrett but ignored it, "it was just me and you; Spike and Buffy having a good time. It felt so natural. Does that make sense?"
"It does," he assured. Truth be told, he had felt the same way. It had surprised him that they had gotten along so well, and continued to do so, despite the Garrett situation and the bathroom incident. Buffy had been right when she said their lack of talking was her fault. There had been several times when Spike had tried to get her to talk instead of shag but she wouldn't have it. If anything, she would throw him against the wall and ravage him until he complied. He always went along though it hurt him to do so. As he thought about it, Spike wished that just once he had had the courage to tell her no and mean it. Maybe they would have ended up differently but, then again, maybe he wouldn't be here now.
"I really do love Garrett," she said and Spike couldn't help but jerk in response. Way to change gears on me, he thought bitterly before settling back into her embrace.
"I know, Buffy," Spike replied, forcing all emotion from his voice. He didn't see Buffy wince at his callous tone but, at that moment, he really didn't care.
"I…I'm sorry," She stuttered and motioned to get up but Spike held her wrists firmly into place. Though he didn't turn to face her, his words were enough to keep her there.
"Don't ever be sorry about what you feel, Buffy. Never. Once you do that, you'll just start tailoring yourself to what the people around you want and you won't be you anymore.
"Yeah, it may not please people all of the time, but that's just too bad. Not to say that you need to be cruel about it, but being honest to yourself and to others about your feelings may be the only way you can remain sane in this bloody world."
Buffy smiled though she knew he couldn't see it. She squeezed his hand in affirmation and continued where she left off.
"I said that because that's part of what I'm scared of." Spike cocked his head to the side and Buffy knew he was confused. "I mean, I'm happy with him, I really am. I am happier than I've ever been. I mean, I was head over heels in love with Angel, but I really can't say that I was happy with him. It was like a bloody soap opera, what with all the angst between us. Plus, hello, sixteen, a walking hormone bomb waiting to go off at any minute. I was just a tad bit emotional--not a good mix with the mysterious and broody.
"I settled with Riley, I know that now. He was a good guy and I really did care for him but I didn't love him. Even if I wasn't holding back with him, I don't think that I would have been happy with him.
"But with Garrett," she sighed, "with him, it's different. I mean, he does have me on this pedestal but it's not like I can do no wrong. Like I told you, he's not scared to tell bitch Buffy to take a hike when she comes out. He's not mean about it or anything, but he gets the message across. But he accepts that every so often, it's not all peaches and daisies with me. That helps because I know I don't have to put on a front for him and I almost feel complete." He raised an eyebrow at the 'almost' though he let her continue.
"He's dependable but not boring. Hell, sometimes he even surprises me with things. I couldn't have it any better. And that's what scares me."
"Sorry pet, but I don't think I followed you round that last bend," Spike said.
"The fact that I have a man who loves me, a man that I love and yet I don't know whether or not I want to be with him."
"Why?" Spike had a feeling where this was going though he tried to remain calm.
"Because, not one hour ago, I was ready to make love to you with barely a second thought." Okay, he thought, taking a very necessary breath didn't know it was going there.
"I mean, I just cheated on Garrett and even though I feel guiltier than sin, I can't help but hold you right now."
They were both silent for several minutes, both uncertain of what to say next. Spike was torn between elation and dejection. The former because Buffy admitted that she wanted him--wanted to make love to him. Of course, the dejection surfaced from the fact that she really loved Garrett and still wore his ring. Saying he was thoroughly clueless as to what to do was a vast understatement. Guess I'm gonna have to play this by ear.
Buffy was shaken by her honesty. Spike's comments about not being sorry for what she felt had unleashed an invisible barrier within her. Of course, there were still a few things that she had yet to tell him and was hesitant to do so. I don't want him to get his hopes up, she thought to herself.
His hopes, Buffy, or yours? Another voice countered. She wanted to discount the validity of that last statement but couldn't. She may have been greatly invigorated, but baring such intimate feelings terrified her. And that's not even taking into account Garrett. God, Buffy--why oh why do you get caught up in these situations?
Sensing Buffy's distress, Spike turned towards her. "Let's get out of here."
"Huh?" She asked, her thoughts still a mess.
"Let's get outta here. Go home watch a movie."
"Spike…"
"Listen, Summers; we're just gonna watch some telly. I promise to keep my sexy digits to myself. We'll just be a couple of friends watching some movies together."
"But we haven't finished…" he silenced her with a kiss. Her breath caught in her throat at the touch of his lips and her mind went out of focus. She shook her head, desperately fighting the desire that threatened to consume her.
"Don't worry, luv. I won't do that again," he could see the disappointment cloud her features and smiled inwardly. "The next time we do kiss is when you are sure what you want. I know you love Garrett, I do. And as hard as it is for me to say this, I do respect the bloke. S' decent. But I know you feel something for me and, in case you don't know, I still love you. As much, if not more than I did before. But I want all of you. I don't know if I deserve it, but I won't settle for a night of love making only to wake up and have you regret it."
Buffy stared at Spike in disbelief. She never would have guessed those words would come from his mouth. She knew that he wasn't happy about it by any circumstance--his twitching jaw muscles laid claim to that. But regardless of what he felt, he had told her what she needed to hear.
Opening her arms, Buffy embraced Spike in a friendly hug, thankful for his support. A few minutes later they were back to the ground, heading back to Revello Drive.
Giving Buffy his support had hurt Spike more than she knew. It was not lost on him that he was possibly driving her back into the arms of her fiancé and out of Spike's forever. But he had to risk that for her. After all, wasn't her happiness the most important thing?
One time he had thought that he was the only one for her, the only one could understand and accept who and what she was. Seeing Garrett and the love the man held in his gray eyes had him doubting that particular line of thought.
Walking side by side with Buffy, Spike couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't the demon that she couldn't love but William. He tried hard to fight the feeling that washed over him. Wouldn't that be ironic? He thought. Buffy not loving the human part of me.
He smiled hollowly when Buffy nudged him when he didn't answer her question. As he started chatting with her, his thoughts wondered if he wasn't good enough. After all, he wasn't for Cecily or Drusilla.
Why would it be any different with Buffy?