Chapter Eleven: The Invitation
Several hours later, Spike woke up to find Buffy sleeping soundly beside him. He pulled out of the comforting warmth of her embrace and pushed himself up on one arm, so he could reach up and grab the blanket and pillows off the sarcophagus. Once he had them, he arranged them around Buffy and snuggled in next to her.
Spike couldn't believe that this was happening, that he was here with Buffy and everything was okay. She had told him that she loved him the night before the Apocalypse, but now there was no Apocalypse coming - at least none that they knew of anyway - and she was still here beside him. She still wanted him, even if it wasn't her last night on earth. She wanted him forever.
Spike hardened his jaw and steeled himself against the nancy-boy tears that were threatening to come. There was no reason to cry now. Buffy was here, beside him. Everything was all right.
A few minutes later she began to stir. Spike turned onto his back and Buffy cuddled herself up against his side.
"Mmm. Spike," she whispered, half-asleep and half-awake.
Spike smiled and ran a loving hand up and down her bare arm.
"Spike."
He felt her eyelashes flutter against his chest and a moment later she was pushing herself up on her elbow to look down at him.
"Beneath you luv," he said. "Always beneath you."
"Isn't that the way you like it?" she asked, moving up and placing a sensual kiss against his lips.
"Sometimes. I can't really complain with you pet. The things you do." He captured a lock of her long blond hair and let it slip through his fingers slowly, memorizing the feel. "You make me crazy, you know that don't you?"
She smiled at him. "And you wouldn't have it any other way."
Lowering herself back down to the floor, she rested her head against his bare chest and placed her hand over his heart. Her eyes drifted shut as she silently marveled at the life beating beneath his skin. She could feel the steady pulse thumping against her ear, feel it thrumming against her palm. A small smile tugged at her lips as she let the muffled rhythm lull her senses once again.
Absently, she began tracing a circle around his heart with the tip of her finger, concentrating intently on the sound within his chest.
Spike brought his hand up and captured hers, stopping it's progress. "Buffy, luv?"
"Hmm?"
"You know I love you, don't you?"
"Yes," she mumbled contentedly.
"This . . . my being human . . . are you all right with it?"
"What?" Buffy opened her eyes and pushed herself up to look at him.
"I'm not Superman anymore. I'm not even bloody Batman. I have no superpowers. I can barely keep up with you."
"I thought you were doing just fine."
"Yeah, tonight, when anything would be good enough." He dropped her hand and pushed her away slightly, propping himself up on his elbows so he could face her. "But Buffy, tonight is just one night. Tomorrow, I go back to being a pumpkin and you'll still be the Slayer."
Buffy wrapped the blanket around her chest and sat up. "Where is this coming from?"
"I just want you to be prepared, that's all. You know, I always said you needed a little monster in your man." A bitter laugh escaped his throat. "Remember tellin' Captain Cardboard that. Now look at me. No better than him. I'm not a monster anymore. You need to know that you're stuck with a bloody poet."
Buffy reached out her hand and put it against his cheek, pulling his eyes toward hers. "Listen to me Spike. I love you. You. Spike. I don't care if you're not a vampire anymore. It doesn't matter to me. And you're no Riley. Sure, we'll have problems. But we'd have problems anyway." She let her hand drop and stared at him hard. "And I seriously doubt I've seen the last of the demon in you. I mean come on? Who knows how to piss me off better than you? It's like a gift!" She moved closer to him, leaning her chest against his. "I'll always find the evil in you, Spike," she whispered softly. "I promise."
She closed her eyes and kissed him again. Spike pulled her closer and slid back down on the floor, taking Buffy with him. Turning her over on her back, he got ready to make love to her all over again.
Suddenly, the door burst open.
"Oh, I love the night life. I got to boogie on the disco 'round, oh yea!" Clem waddled into the crypt singing at the top of his lungs. He padded over to the fridge and began rummaging through its contents.
"Bloody, bloody hell," Spike cursed, as he pushed himself off of Buffy and rested back on his arms. He stared up at Clem with murder in his eyes, waiting for the floppy giant to notice them. "Ahem," Spike cleared his throat.
"Spike?" Clem asked from the other side of the sarcophagus.
Obviously, though they could see him, Clem couldn't see them.
"Hey buddy." Clem moved around to see what was on the other side of the big stone box. "What're you doing down there on the . . .? Oh, sorry, my bad," he said. He raised a wobbly arm to shield his eyes. "Hey Buff, how you doing?" he asked without looking at her. "Life been treating you well?"
"Just fine Clem," she replied, her tone slightly amused.
"But I'm not," Spike bit back. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were out for the night."
"Well I was. You know, was gonna stay out all night? Get down and boogie?" He shook his fleshly figure in illustration. "But there was this really nasty chaos demon, getting slime all over my hot wings - so disgusting. I figured I'd just come back here, eat in my crypt in peace. But I can see . . . well," he peeked around the barrier of his arm for a brief second, and them quickly shielded his eyes again, "that I'm not going to get much peace tonight. I'll just be going then." He turned to leave the crypt.
"No wait," Buffy said, stopping him at the door. She reached down under the blanket and felt around for her clothes. "We'll be out of here in a second. No problem."
"Like hell we will!" Spike moved to get up, but Buffy reached out her hand and stopped him.
"I'm sure we'll be a lot more comfortable at my house," she said reasonably. "Now I'm sure Clem will give us a minute to get our things together and get out of his way. Right Clem?" she called across the room, never taking her eyes from Spike's.
"Oh yeah. Yeah Buffy. Whatever you need. Take a minute. Take two minutes if you like," he stammered, as he felt his way to the door, his eyes still covered. "I'll just be outside."
They heard the door close, and Buffy removed her hand from Spike. She found her bra and panties beneath the cover and started getting dressed.
"It wouldn't have killed him to find another place for the night."
"No. But it wouldn't have been right. I thought you wanted things to be different," she said, turning her head and staring at him quizzically. "Does it get any more 'different' than my bed?" She pulled on her jeans and zipped them up.
Spike just stared at her. "You're taking me home?"
"Duh," she swung her head heavenward and rolled her eyes. "God you vampires - ex-vampires," she corrected, "can be so dense. How did you ever survive a hundred years of living - non-living - being so completely and totally lacking in common sense?"
"I have plenty of common sense," he said resentfully, as he jammed his left leg, and then his right, into his jeans.
Buffy stood up and finished zipping up her boots. "Oh right. You know what sounds like a real good idea? Chaining a girl to a wall and telling her you love her. Now that will really win a girl over! Where on earth did you ever learn your people skills? The Manson Family Guide on How to Make Friends and Influence People?"
Spike stood up in front of her and pulled his black T-shirt over his head. "Oh, like you're the little social butterfly? How many vampires have you had for boyfriends? Let's count." He brought up his left hand and numbered them with his fingers. "First there was soul-boy. Boy that was a stroke of genius! Totally normal in every sense of the word. Not only a vampire, but a bloody poofter! Poor, poor Buffy." He shook his head at her sympathetically.
Buffy crossed her arms over her now clothed chest and glared at him. "And what about vampire number two? It's not my fault he was a total sadomasochistic psycho. What the hell did I know? I had just come back from the dead."
"Well now we're even."
They stood there in an awkward silence for a long moment, neither one knowing exactly what to say.
Finally, Buffy spoke. "Do you have any other stuff here?" she asked. "You should get it before we leave."
Spike shook his head, in serious denial. "You can't be serious about this. Taking me home to little sis? She hated me before, she's not gonna--"
"She doesn't hate you," Buffy interrupted him. "She was just angry. She misses you so much Spike. She'll be so happy to see you she won't even remember that she was angry."
"Right bloody chance of that happening. She's too much like her damned sister. Bitty Buffy till the end."
"Are you coming?" She cocked an eyebrow at him in question.
Spike sighed and gave her an exasperated look. "Yeah. Fine. Whatever." He walked past her and made for the door. "I'll get my stuff tomorrow. Which . . . reminds me." He turned back on his heels and stared down at Buffy, who had been following just a few steps behind him. "I want my soddin' duster back. I said the Nibblet could borrow it. Not give it to her sister to use as a second-string Mr. Gordo."
Buffy's eyes narrowed. "How did you know about that?"
"I'm psychic," he said, turning back toward the door. "I just want it back."
"Wait a minute." Buffy reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him around to look at her. "How did you know about the duster?"
"It doesn't take a bleedin' genius to--"
"How?"
A ragged sigh escaped his lips and his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. Buffy let go of his arm and Spike pulled back a little, dropping his eyes. "I had to see you. I had to know that you were okay. The morning I woke up, I went to your house. Crept into your room and watched you sleeping. Not as easy as it was when I was a vamp. Couldn't hear you breathing through the walls. Couldn't sense your Slayer self with instinct." He looked up at her, his blue eyes deep with emotion. "All I could do was seek you out and look at you with my own eyes. I had to know that you were safe. That you were alive."
"Spike." She moved forward and captured his mouth in a hungry kiss. When she pulled away, she whispered softly, "Come on. It's time to go home."