Chapter Twenty-two

Late that evening, Buffy made her way to Spike's crypt. She had spent all day worrying about how to handle the situation, and she thought she had finally come up with a plausible solution.

Buffy flung open the door to the crypt and stepped inside. Everything was quiet. She crossed the floor, wondering if perhaps he was hiding somewhere, but there was no sign of him. Making her way over to the ladder, she lowered herself down to the lower level. Even if he wasn't home, at least she knew where to wait for him.

Once her feet where firmly on the floor, Buffy turned around and surveyed the room. Much to her surprise, there were candles strewn about the rubble and a certain warm, homey feel to the place. She took a tentative step forward and narrowed her eyes, searching for Spike.

"Well, it's about damn time," a voice said from somewhere behind her.

Buffy swung around to see Spike standing behind her. "I told you I had some things to do. I do have a life you know?"

"Yeah, sure. But I was rather hoping that I wouldn't. Are you here to honor our agreement? To keep your promise?"

"Yes, but we have to do this my way, or not at all."

"Fine Slayer. Whatever you say." Spike tore off his shirt and let it drop to the floor, in much the same way he had in her last dream. "So, where do you want me?"

A tiny smile pulled at Buffy's lips. Yes, this was going to be fun, wasn't it? "Well, I need to be sure that you're not going to change your mind at the last minute and try and kill me instead."

He gave her an angry look. "If that's what I wanted, I would have killed you the other night, while you slept."

"So," Buffy ignored his comment as she drifted toward the far wall of the crypt and picked up one of the manacles that was still chained to the wall, "you'll need to be restrained."

"What? You must be joking! Just do it Slayer. Come on, what's stopping you?"

"Look Spike, if you don't want me to do this, I'll leave right now. It's not like there aren't other vampires to kill. So," she leveled her gaze at him, "do you want it, or not?"

Spike narrowed his eyes and stared at her suspiciously. What the bloody hell was she up to?

"Don't you trust me?" she asked, pretending to be hurt.

"Is 'No' a strong enough answer?"

"I made you a promise. To give you what you want. I won't break it. I'll keep my word."

"Oh yeah, what I want. I've heard that one before. How big an idiot do you think I am?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Buffy. Slayer," he corrected himself. "Just get the damn thing over with!"

"And I will," she crossed the floor toward him and took him by the wrist, "as soon as you do as I say. This is my revenge after all, isn't it? Don't I have some say in how I get to exact it?"

Spike couldn't exactly argue with that. He didn't trust Buffy, couldn't tell exactly what she was up to, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it might not end with a piece of wood through his heart. Still, what choice did he have?

Spike allowed Buffy to lead him over to the opening in the wall. One of the manacles still had the key in its lock. Buffy pocketed it before taking a hold of Spike's arm and raising it above his head.

The chains she put on his wrists were the very same chains he had used to chain her up with once, the previous year. God, the memory made him cringe. Maybe it was only fitting that he should meet his end shackled to the same wall he had chained Buffy to when he had first professed his love. There was nothing quite like poetic justice to add that extra sting to a bitter death.

Once he was securely in place, Buffy took a few steps back and pulled a stake from her back pocket. "You know, I've thought a lot about this." She began pacing back and forth in front of him. "Wondered what it would feel like, to finally stake you. It really, after all, is just supposed to make things easier. It's like spring cleaning for my life. But in this case, instead of sweeping away the dust bunnies, I get to dust away something even more bothersome and annoying." She stopped and turned to look at him. "Wouldn't it be great if everything in life was that easy? You know, have a problem, just put a stake through its heart? And 'poof,' the problem disappears. I kind of like that."

Spike narrowed his eyes and glared at her. She was rambling. He wondered if she was going to talk him to death. "You're point, Slayer?"

"Oh, right, my point. Well," she came up to him and pressed the stake to his chest, "my point is . . . that it's not that easy." She lowered the stake. "It's never been that easy. I know why you're doing this. I know you think it's what you want. But I can't do it. Because I deserve better."

"You?"

"Yes, me. I'm the one who's been through hell here Spike. I should be the one who gets to make the decisions. You want to die to spare me pain? To spare me the heartache? Well, just what the hell do you think is going to be left of me when you're gone? Do you think I'll really just recover, get over it and forget all about you? You always thought Angel was dense? Well, let me tell you something, you're giving him a run for his money. I can't kill you Spike. I won't kill you. Not for your sake, but for mine."

She stepped away from him and Spike just stared at her, her words whirling through his clouded mind. She wanted him? In her life? Was she completely and totally insane? What had he done to her? "Buffy? You can't mean any of this."

"Every word."

"No. Buffy, you don't need me. I'm not the only man in the world. Surely someone else . . ."

"There is no one else."

"Buffy, I know someone hurt you. Don't think that this is what you deserve. That you deserve to be hurt."

"What are talking about?" She seemed genuinely confused.

"I heard you talking. The first night I came back to Sunnydale. The night before you saw me. I was stalking you, again. In front of your house on movie night. Remember? No romance?"

She leveled a steady gaze at him. "You really do want to die tonight, don't you?"

"I know you weren't brokenhearted over me, so there must have been someone else. I drove you to someone else in your grief."

"Oh please," she mocked. "Now who's the one who's insane? You, Spike, are the only man I've been involved with in more than two years. Do you really think I ran off to someone else that quickly? Do you really think that I didn't care enough about you for you to be able to break my heart? My heart bled when you left. There's been no one else. And there'll be no one else."

"No. No, I won't let you do this to yourself." He pulled at his chains, frustrated, trying to break free so he could shake some sense into her.

"It's already done," she said matter-of-factly, as she folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. "Maybe I am a very sick girl. Maybe I do need a good psychiatrist. But you know what Spike? I don't care. I can't do this without you. Any of it. Don't leave me. Don't force me to kill you."

Spike was beyond speechless. He couldn't do anything but stare at Buffy and shake his head. He tried to make some sense of her words. She was lonely and she was lost. She didn't know what she was saying. She was almost alone in this world. Most of her friends were gone, her father figure was gone. She was just grasping. Desperately trying to find comfort and solace in a harsh world. Well he couldn't be that solace. Not again. Not after last time.

"Buffy, I can't. You have to do this. You have to kill me. Sparing me is not the answer."

"Neither is killing you. I need you Spike."

"Don't. Don't even say it." He dropped his eyes and sighed heavily. "Bloody hell. Let's just get this over with."

Buffy drew closer to him, she took his chin in her hand and pulled his eyes up to meet hers. "Spike, look at me."

He closed his eyes and refused to meet her gaze.

"Spike, I . . . "

"Don't." He opened his eyes. "Oh God, don't. Buffy, let it go. Don't do this to yourself."

"I love you."

Spike felt like he was going to fall through the floor, in spite of the heavy chains that were holding him up. Now he knew she was completely off her bird. What was wrong with her? "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do." She let him go. "I know exactly what I'm saying, and exactly what I'm doing. Do you think this has been easy on me? Do you think it's been a picnic, having you gone after what you did to me? I've been tormented and tortured. I've tried everything I could think of to stop thinking about you, but nothing's worked. There's nothing on this earth pleasurable enough, or evil enough, to distract me from thoughts of you. Don't you think I know that it's wrong for me to feel this way? I know it. I'm not a complete idiot. But I can't help it. This goes beyond reason. You hurt me Spike. We both know that. But we've spent the past five years hurting each other and it's just become par for the course. What you did to me . . . what you did, may seem unforgivable, but it's no worse than the things I did to you this past year. I hurt you. I used you. You're not the only one who's sorry."

"It's not the same," he interrupted her.

"It is the same."

"No it's not. I tried to rape you."

"But you didn't."

"Because you stopped me. Do you really think we'd even be having this conversation if I had succeeded? No, I would have been dead a week ago."

"You have a soul now."

"Right, and that makes it all okay. Makes up for everything."

"No," she said quietly.

"Then why are you doing this? Why are you forgiving me and professing your undying love?"

"Because I need you. And because, believe it or not, you deserve it. Both my love and my forgiveness."

"Buffy," he tried to protest.

"No, Spike." She pulled the key from her pocket and reached up on her toes to unlock his shackles. "It's just time you accepted it."

She stepped away from him and Spike eyed her curiously, as he rubbed one of his wrists. "You don't need to get hurt again."

"There is nothing on this earth that you, or anyone else can do to keep me from getting hurt again. That's life. What you can do," she moved closer to him, "is stand by me, and try to keep it from hurting so much."

Spike tore his eyes away from her. What was he supposed to do? He loved her, he always had, but he certainly shouldn't be rewarded for it. He had hurt her. He didn't deserve to be handed eternal happiness on a golden platter. "No," he said. "I can't make the pain go away. I can only make it worse."

Buffy brought her hand up to caress his cheek. He raised his eyes and looked at her. "I love you Spike. And I know that you love me. Why else would you get your soul back? Why did you do it? To punish yourself? Even I know better than that. You did it because a part of you hoped that it would save you, that it would be your redemption. Let me offer you redemption Spike. You can be a better man. I believe in you."

Something inside of him broke as she said it. His heart was tearing into pieces and there was little he could do to save himself. He wanted her to love him, had always wanted it. And now she was offering it to him. It wasn't fair. He didn't deserve it. But how on earth could he ever say no to Buffy? "Buffy, luv. I . . ."

"Yes, Spike?" She moved in closer.

"You know that I love you. You know that I don't deserve this."

"I know."

"But if it's what you want, really what you want . . ."

"It is." She put her arms around his neck and closed the distance between them.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Buffy, I never meant to hurt you. Never." He was almost crying now, his voice choked with emotion. "If I could go back and . . ."

"It's all right." She smoothed a gentle hand over his brow and smiled at him. "I know."

He searched her eyes. "Promise me, promise me something."

"What is it?"

"Promise me, if I ever do hurt you again, that you will kill me. That you'll do it without even a second thought."

"Only if I can live without you. Which I doubt. But if the day ever comes, I promise. Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Is that all you want?" Her breath lightly caressed his lips as she asked.

"No. But I don't have a right to . . ."

"Yes you do." She leaned closer and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "You have every right. I'm giving you the right. I love you Spike. And it's time we started over. Left all the nightmares behind us. It's time."

Spike stared down at Buffy, unsure of what to do. He had honestly thought that he'd never be this close to her again. Certainly thought that he'd never have the chance to touch her again. But there they were, Buffy asking him to be with her. It amazed him that she wasn't repulsed by his touch. She wanted him and he knew there was nothing in this world that he could deny her.

Spike tentatively caressed her cheek. "If at any time you change your mind . . ."

Spike heard the stake she had been holding hit the floor somewhere behind his back. "I won't." She pulled him down to her and kissed him again, passionately this time.

A low growl escaped Spike's throat as he returned the kiss. He leaned in and picked her up, his eyes desperately scanning the room as he realized there was no bed anymore. He had spent the past few nights sleeping on an old blanket on the floor. He'd figured he didn't deserve much better, so he hadn't bothered to find something else.

Buffy laughed. "Maybe we should go upstairs."

"Believe me, it's not that much more comfortable up there." He swung his head upward to indicate the first floor.

"Well, it's not like we ever needed a bed before."

"Tonight, we do. Maybe we should . . ."

Buffy cut him off with a searing kiss. "It doesn't matter Spike. I just want you." She pulled his head down to hers again and kissed him heatedly.

He crossed the room with her still in his arms, and lowered her to the blanket. So there would be no bed tonight. That didn't mean they weren't in heaven. He knew he didn't deserve this, but Buffy did. And all he ever wanted was to make her happy. It was what she deserved.

Buffy felt her chest tighten as Spike lowered himself down beside her. Her heart was racing and she could barely catch her breath. She had wanted him for so long. Worse, she had spent that entire time berating herself for wanting him. But now, it didn't matter. Finally, everything was all right. She loved Spike. She trusted Spike. And she didn't care what the world, or anyone else thought. He had done the unthinkable for her, and she loved him all the more for it.

"Spike," she whispered his name as he hovered above her, staring down into her eyes.

"Yes luv?"

"I love you." Buffy's eyes slowly drifted shut as she pulled him closer and covered his mouth with her own. Sweetly, tenderly she kissed him, wanting to savor every last moment of their coming together. It had been so long.

Buffy had spent a couple of weeks having sex with Spike in her dreams, but as real and vivid as those encounters were, they couldn't compare to reality. They were nothing compared to reality.

A desperate sob escaped Buffy's throat, as Spike broke away and began kissing her neck. With gentle, almost tentative, grace, he caressed her skin with his lips. She could feel the heat building up inside of her; a slow, burning hunger that was beginning to consume.

Slowly, Spike slid two powerful hands up under Buffy's blouse. The feel of his cool hands skimming her heated flesh sent a chill up her spine. Before Buffy could even protest, Spike pulled away from her again, and in one swift move, pulled the offending garment right over her head.

Buffy lay resting on her elbows now, staring heatedly at Spike. His gaze was boring into her, his eyes dark with passion and desire. Even so, Buffy sensed a feeling of reluctance on his part. The last time they had been this close had been that fateful night last Spring. That night that she had thought would forever hang over their relationship like its own dark cloud. She couldn't blame Spike for being reluctant. But she needed him now.

Buffy refused to move. She just continued to stare at Spike, hoping that her own arousal would be enough to urge him on. It was. After tearing his eyes away from her for the briefest moment, Spike turned back to stare at her, pure, animal heat burning behind his sapphire eyes, setting his newfound soul ablaze.

He crawled forward, catlike, languidly spreading his body over hers in a predatory fashion. Buffy felt her body tense; every muscle instantly aware of his nearness, every nerve humming with excitement.

Spike pulled back slightly, sweeping his eyes possessively over every inch of her body. Buffy could feel her limbs trembling, just with his phantom caress. She wanted him. And soon.

Just when she thought she could stand his scrutiny no longer, her body yearning for him to do with his hands what he was doing with his eyes, Spike finally brought his fingers down against her flesh, and began to, ever so slowly, remove her clothing.

Buffy sucked in a sharp breath as Spike's hands grazed her skin. He refused to touch her directly. Instead, he tortured her by only touching her clothing, occasionally allowing the briefest contact with her bare flesh.

First, he unhooked the clasp on her bra. He watched intently as the straps slowly slid down Buffy's arms to reveal the creamy expanse of her breasts. His eyes upon her were almost enough to send her over the edge. The way he looked at her. She could feel his eyes burning her skin, the sensation nearly unbearable.

"Spike," she whimpered, wanting to feel him for real.

Next, he lowered his hand to the waistband of her jeans. He skimmed a tantalizing finger under the band, before finally undoing the button. As he pulled the zipper down, he was sure to use just enough pressure to make her moan. Buffy threw her head back and closed her eyes, desperately enjoying the feel of his hand moving over that most sensitive part of her body. "Spike." Buffy arched up into him, wanting to feel more, trying to increase the pressure. But he pulled away.

Buffy opened her eyes, her vision barely able to focus on the man in front of her. Spike was smiling wickedly and Buffy felt the overwhelming urge to slap him.

Apparently taking pity on her, Spike moved forward, and in one deft move, freed Buffy from the confines of her tight, black jeans. A moment later, her panties followed, and suddenly, she was lying naked in front of him.

Buffy could feel the heat pulsing between her legs - begging, crying out for him. She wanted him so desperately and he wasn't giving her anything. Wasn't he the one who was supposed to be getting tortured here? Wasn't he the one who thought he deserved this kind of abuse? It just wasn't fair.

Before she had a chance to tell Spike exactly what was on her mind, he pulled away from her and stripped off the remainder of his own clothing. And suddenly, Buffy didn't feel so neglected anymore. Just the sight of him, naked and aroused, was enough for her. She knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Whatever torture he was putting her through, they were on equal ground.

Finally, Spike lowered himself over her again. He wrapped one arm about her waist and pressed her into the blanket beneath him. She could feel all of him now, his cool flesh instantly warming with her raging body heat. It was heaven. Buffy wanted to touch him everywhere at once, to feel every inch of his skin making contact with hers. She couldn't get close enough to him, even as she pressed her body against his.

Without saying a single word, Spike kissed her again, this time with a passion and ferocity they had both been long denied. Buffy nearly cried, as Spike pulled away again and began kissing and licking his way down her body. It was the most exquisite torture, the feel of his mouth worshipping her quivering flesh. He lavished her with the sweetest, most torturous attention, making sure to touch every one of her most sensitive spots. Buffy wanted to scream. She was through playing. She needed him, now. There would be time for foreplay later.

"Spike. Please," Buffy begged.

He must have believed the desperation in her voice, because he finally pulled himself away and looked her in the eyes. "Buffy." He nearly choked her name, his voice heavy with desire.

"I want you. Now. Please," she whimpered.

A small smile pulled at the corner of his sensuous lips. He stared down at her mouth, sending a new wave of heat coursing through her body. A moment later, he was kissing her again, only this time, he laid down on top of her, nudging her legs apart and settling himself between them.

Buffy moaned as she felt his hardened flesh press up against her moist warmth. She arched forward, desperately begging him to enter her. He willingly obliged.

Before she knew what was happening, Spike had eased himself inside of her. Instantly, Buffy began to rock her hips forward, trying to make deeper contact. She wanted to feel all of him within her. She wanted to be one with him.

With slow, measured thrusts, he moved within her. Buffy clasped onto his shoulders, unconsciously digging her nails into his back. He was torturing her on purpose. Holding back just enough to keep her going, to keep her dangling on that precipice, desperate for release.

He knew her so well. Too well. Knew exactly what she liked, what she wanted, what she needed to send her crashing over the edge. And he was keeping all that from her.

Buffy was nearly ready to scream, to flip Spike over and take control herself, when he finally relented and began to pick up the pace. Buffy raised her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, urging him onward to his own fulfillment. She had no desire to be selfish. She wanted this as much for Spike as she did for herself. It was what they had waited for for so long. What they deserved. To finally stop fighting, to finally stop hurting, and to actually love.

With a low, animal roar, Spike thrust inside her one last time. He knew exactly how her body would react. Instantly, she began to contract around him, her body pulsating with sweet release. Tears were stinging behind her eyes, as she felt herself spasming around him.

Spike had found his own release, she knew. She had felt the change in his body, felt him come inside of her. It was wonderful. Complete and utter fulfillment.

When they had both finally recovered enough to move, Spike moved away from Buffy. Reaching across her, he pulled the edge of the blanket over them, wrapping Buffy in tightly by his side. She rested her head against his chest and let her eyes drift closed.

With a gentle tenderness, Spike began to stroke the flesh of her bare arm. Buffy couldn't help but smile at the sweet, familiar gesture. She remembered him touching her in much the same way in her first dream.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?"

"Why did you torture me?" Buffy pushed up on her elbow to glare down at him.

"What? Torture? Torture's not my thing pet. I know the old grandsire likes it, but I've never really gone in for--"

Buffy cocked an eyebrow and cut him off with a sharp glare.

"Oh, all right. Fair's fair, s'all."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'."

"Nothing?"

"Just that, you remember those damned awful nightmares I was having? We were having?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, last one? You used me as your very own human pincushion. That's all. Sorry luv, but payback's a bitch."

"Oh really?" Buffy said, cocking an eyebrow and sliding her hand below the blanket. "So, let's get this straight." She put her hand on his thigh and began tracing light patterns there with her fingers. "I tortured you. Then you tortured me. You know what that means, don't you?"

"That we're even?"

"That it's my turn to torture you again Spike. You think you're up for it?"

She saw the muscle in his neck tighten as she brought her fingers dangerously close to his hardening flesh. She refused to touch him just yet.

"Yeah, pet. I'm up for anything," he said tightly, barely able to speak.

"Good," Buffy said, lowering her face to his, "because, I think this is what you deserve."

END