Spike paced around his bedroom, trying to find something to occupy his time. Finally, he settled on lounging on his bed and flipping through channels on the television. It had been a week since he and Buffy had the argument at that apartment complex, and he had been battling his inner demons ever since. On the one hand, he knew she was right about the sex and his using it as a form of twisted revenge… but she only got that part of it right. There was more. He slept with other women to pass the time. He was intimate with them because he couldn't be intimate with her. The pain that he felt when confronted with memories of Harmony was only there because he was also confronted with the realization that he was still alone.
He was scared to be alone, and not even Buffy knew that dark secret of his.
He growled and flopped onto his stomach on the mattress, desperately trying to concentrate on the commercials. Anything to keep his mind off of being alone, and of not having Buffy. He wished he could just tell her that he would drop all of those other women without a second thought for her, that he wanted to be with her as more than a friend. He knew, however, that she would instantly laugh in his face.
Either that or never talk to me again…
The phone rang, almost scaring him into rolling off the bed. He lunged at the phone, bringing it to his ear. "State your piece," he quipped to whomever was on the other end of the line.
"Spike?" Buffy's wavering tone came over the line to his ear. "Are you alone?"
His senses were instantly on alert, instantly realizing that something was wrong. "Yeah, pet, what's wrong?"
She sighed and he could hear rustling of something like tissue in the background. "Can you come over?" she finally replied softly.
"Of course, luv. I'll be right over."
He was out the door so quickly he barely had time to hang up the phone properly. He practically ran down the Strip to where Buffy's apartment was located at the other end. He was out of breath, sweat trickling down the back of his neck, but she was worth it. Even if they were just friends, he wanted to be there for her during whatever was hitting her this hard. He flew up the flight of stairs and knocked on the door to her apartment.
A muffled "Come in" was heard on the other side of the door. He cautiously opened the door, peeking around the other side to gather in the sight of Buffy sitting in the middle of the living room, a box of Kleenex in her lap and photos strewn all around her. He saw that most of the photos were of her and Riley, during their relationship. He tamped down his jealousy and went to her, gathering her in his arms. Rocking her gently while she cried against his shoulder, he murmured comforting words into her hair, stroking it softly.
She sniffled a bit, burrowing her face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent. Leather and cigarettes, she noted mentally before losing thoughts to her grief once more. Finally, through her tears, she heard him speak.
"It's okay," he said softly, still stroking her hair and rocking her back and forth. "What happened, luv?"
She sniffled and coughed slightly, wiping at her nose with the tissue in her hand. "He just called on the phone a few minutes ago. Said he just wanted to see how I was, I told him I was fine, et cetera." She sat back, blowing her nose and throwing the tissue in the nearby trash can before she allowed Spike to gather her back up against him. Continuing, she sobbed, "He tells me that he's the squad leader down at the Initiative now, tells me how everyone is doing back home, they all say hello."
"Riley?" Spike interjected, feeling her nod in the affirmative before continuing her story.
"Yeah. Then he says 'I have this news.' She works at the Initiative, too, apparently. Some commando-scientist or something. Her name is Samantha, but he says he calls her Sam, or whatever. He just met her. She was supposed to be his 'transitional girlfriend' or something like that, not supposed to be this serious." The tears began afresh. "All this time I've been saying that he didn't want to get married. Truth was, he didn't want to get married to me." She became incoherent with sobs.
He rocked her some more, squeezing her in his arms, gently.
"He didn't love me," Buffy wailed.
Running his fingers through her hair, Spike murmured in her ear, "If you could have him back, right now, would you take him back, pet?"
She pulled back to look at him with red, watery eyes. "No, but that's not the point! Why didn't he want to marry me? What's the matter with me?" She dabbed at her nose with a fresh tissue.
"Nothing," he assured her, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'm difficult," she mourned, staring at the carpet between them.
"You're challenging, pet," he corrected.
She shook her head. "I'm too structured. I'm closed off from people."
He squeezed her arm, meeting her eyes. "Yeah, but in a good way, luv."
"No, I drove him away. I drive them all away… They all leave." She cried into her tissue before wailing, "And I'm going to be forty!"
He stared at her like she'd just revealed herself to be Barbara Bush in disguise. "I beg your pardon? Forty? When?"
"Someday," she muttered.
He laughed and hugged her. "In sixteen years, Buffy!"
"Yeah, but still. It's there. Sitting there like a big dead end, mocking me with its big dead-endishness."
He took off his duster and laid it over the couch behind him, reaching out to her for a hug. "Come here, pet." He rocked her again and then started tickling her ribs till she giggled and batted his hands away.
Sitting up, she fingered his black t-shirt. "I'm making a mess of your shirt," she murmured, sniffling.
"Yeah," he shrugged, winking at her. "But I have thousands of the exact same color." They shared a laugh at the accurate comment regarding his wardrobe. He kissed her forehead and stood up. "I'll go make you a cuppa hot chocolate, with those little marshmallows you like." Her tugging on his hand stopped him.
"Spike, could you…" she trailed off, then looked up at him timidly. "Could you hold me just a little longer?"
He sat back down, gathering her up against him in his lap. "Of course, pet."
They sat like that, with him holding her and her burrowing her face against his neck, breathing in his scent. After a few minutes she shifted in his lap, and he looked at her to see that she was searching his face, as if looking for something. He was about to ask her what he could get for her when she crushed her lips against his in a passionate kiss. The kiss took him by surprise with both its being there and its intensity, for it was almost more passionate than the one they had shared on New Year's. He allowed himself only a moment's hesitation before twining his fingers through her blonde strands and slanting his head to return the kiss with his own passion. He felt her moan into his mouth as his tongue pushed past her lips to battle hers. She stroked his tongue in return with her own, running her fingers through his bleached hair.
Whereas before she had been sitting sideways in his lap, she now pivoted so that she was straddling him, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning in as closely as she could. He thought he was dreaming this, but that if it was a dream, he hoped he never woke up. He felt her hands begin to roam over his chest, exploring the well-defined muscles that lay hidden beneath his t-shirt. He returned the exploration, stroking down her neck, over the tops of her breasts, grazing her nipples with the tips of his fingers. He relished in the sharp intake of breath she emitted from the contact and furthered his examination of the firm globes of flesh. Through her shirt, he cupped her breasts with his hands and squeezed gently, feeling her moan into his mouth and arch against him for more contact. They both broke the kiss to breathe, staring at each other with hooded eyes.
With a feral growl, he pushed her onto her back on the carpet behind her, sweeping all the pictures aside with one forearm. She felt him hovering over her and wrapped her legs around his hips instinctively. Propped up by his hands so that he was looking down at her flushed face, he moaned and leaned in to nibble on her lower lip, playing his tongue over her mouth before she parted her lips and allowed him entrance. Reaching up under her shirt to feel her heated skin directly, Spike's hand immediately traveled to one breast and tweaked the nipple gently. She let out a muffled scream of pleasure into his mouth, arching her back so that her breasts were pressed flush against his chest. He stifled a groan, rolling his eyes back in his head as he fought to keep control of his body. He pulled away from the kiss, lifting her shirt instead to attack her breast with his mouth. He rolled the tightened nub of one rose-colored nipple between his teeth, flicking his tongue over it so that her moans increased, both in frequency and volume. He felt her reach down to grip his shoulders as he played his hand over her abdomen, exploring her body, continuing his assault on her breasts. He suckled at her so hard she was afraid she would burst from the sensation.
Feelings washed over her in a tide as she felt Spike gently kiss his way down her abdomen to where her waistband to her sweatpants was. He locked gazes with her as he pulled them down her legs with excruciating slowness. Bending her legs, she helped him ease the pants off. The scent of her was driving him nearly insane and he suddenly lost patience, ripping her thong away instead of easing it away like he had her pants. He couldn't help but lean in to part her folds with the tip of his tongue, tasting her. Slowly, he pushed one, then two fingers into her, developing a deep thrusting rhythm. She cried out and bucked her hips against his hand as he hit her sensitive spot deep within, palming her clit in lazy circles as he continued to thrust into her. She felt every nerve ending as if it were on fire within her, as she suddenly spiraled off the edge, screaming his name.
Hearing his name on her lips during her moment of ecstasy was enough to shred what little control he had left, and he quickly shed his clothing. Settling again between her legs, he kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue. She gasped as she felt the length of his arousal pressed firmly against her sensitive folds. Locking gazes with him, she rolled her hips as she locked her ankles around his lower back, pressing him deeply into her. His eyes widened as her heat enveloped him, tight warmth that was excruciatingly sweet. He filled her completely, a perfect match to her body, and they both moaned as he pulled back. When he was just barely still inside her, he gathered her in his arms, pressing her against him as he thrust deeply into her again. She threw her head back and cried out senseless words as he began to fill her again and again, thrusting hard and slow. The world faded away for the two of them as they lost all sense of anything other than their own joined bodies. Moans and gasps filled the room as they rocked together, expressing all their lust and passion, as well as deeper feelings that they were too embarrassed to express in any other way than this.
Raising her hips with each thrust to meet his, they felt the waves of orgasm begin to wash over them. As her inner walls clenched tightly around him he moaned his own release, capturing her mouth in a kiss that stole what was left of her breath. Thrusting deeply a few more times to prolong the heaven they both were in, he finally settled atop her, tracing kisses down her jawline and neck. She sighed contentedly, stroking his back with the tips of her fingers, savoring the feel of him inside and all around her. As she drifted slowly to sleep with their bodies still joined, she heard him murmur her name, almost as if it were a sacred prayer. Reflexively, she tightened her embrace for a moment before she allowed her body to fade into rest.
The last words she heard were whispered from his lips, followed by a kiss to her temple as he followed her to sleep:
"I love you…"
