Chapter Eight: Magic

(This chapter contains lyrics from "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" written by Gordon M. Sumner aka Sting)


*** That night Spike had followed Buffy all the way to her motel, which was just outside of the Los Angeles city limits. He watched her enter her hotel room. He pulled out a pack of Marlboro's from the pocket of his leather duster. When he came back, he was in the same clothes he was wearing that day. He had burned all his other clothes, but couldn't seem to part with the soft, black leather duster. It had become a part of him, and he didn't want to let another thing he loved so much go. He looked at the door. Debating whether or not to barge in right now, or wait till the brink of dawn.


"Though I've tried before to tell her
Of the feelings I have for her in my heart
Every time that I come near her
I just lose my nerve
As I've done from the start"

He muttered angrily under his breath. "Damn girl. Gonna be the death of me." He put the cigarette to his lips. First one he had had in five years. He had given up drinking and smoking when he came back. Besides, he wasn't allowed to smoke inside Wolfram & Hart and didn't like going outside every time he had a nicotine craving. He dropped the butt and stepped on it. He wasn't going to wait till morning. He had to see her again now. He walked up to the door, wiped his sweaty palms on the seat of his jeans and pounded on the door

Buffy threw the door open. "What?!" She asked angrily. Spike looked at her. Her gorgeous green eyes were red, her nose runny. Her hair was still wet from her shower and her robe was disheveled. His heart leapt. There she was, in the worst possible shape and she still looked beautiful.

"Every little thing she does is magic
Everything she do just turns me on
Even though my life before was tragic
Now I know my love for her goes on"

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"No she said. She stood in the doorway, blocking him.

He shook his head and scoffed. "Fine," He pushed past her. "I don't need an invite."

"Her eyes widened. "You're not... You came in."

"Yeah, I did. It's a public place, Buffy," he told her.

"Oh," she closed the door. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk, Buffy."

She raised her eyebrows, "Really? Funny, I don't feel the need to talk. I feel the need for you to leave, though."

He rolled his eyes, "Still with the snappy remarks. You need a new shtick." "Did you come here just to heckle me?"

He sighed, "Listen, I know you're mad..."

"Mad?" She laughed. "I'm way past mad. In fact, I think I'm somewhere in uncontrollable rage."

"Fine, whatever. I wanted to explain..."

"Explain what?!" She yelled.

"Bloody hell, woman, let me finish!"

"No!" She screamed. She flew at him, fists flying. He cowered down, letting her hit him. Finally, he grabbed her arms and shoved her up against the wall.

"Buffy, settle down."

She twisted. "Then explain. Why you're here? Why you've been gone? Why you didn't come to me when you got back from wherever you were? Why you let me spend every day for five years without you? Without kissing you, or holding you, or without falling asleep in your arms. You..." Her bottom lip quivered. "Weren't there." she finished.

He let go of her and she slid to the floor, sobbing those horrible gasping sobs. He sat on the lumpy bed and hung his head. What had he done? What did he do to her? He thought he was doing what was right, staying away from her. It would've been just fine if they never saw each other again. Living what lives they didn't have, going through the motions, deadened to what surrounded them. That's how he had been living. And he was pretty positive that's how she had been living.

"Do I have to tell the story
Of a thousand rainy days since we first met
It's a big enough umbrella
But it's always me that ends up getting wet"

He looked back at her. She was on the floor, crying into the dingy carpet. He watched her. Like he had done a million times before. Memorizing every curve, every line of her body, every pore on her face. She was older than when he last saw her. There were the tiniest wrinkles around her eyes, but only he would notice them. She seemed worn, older too. He watched as she clawed at the carpet. On her left hand, on the finger next to her pinky was a gold diamond ring and band

"You're married?"

"Yes," she mumbled her voice muffled by the carpet.

He nodded. "Oh."

She looked up at him. "What'd you think I was going to wait for you? You were dead."

"I'm not dead."

"I didn't know that."

Spike looked down, holding back burning tears. "Is he... uh... is he good to you?"

"He was."

"Was? Did he leave you?" His eyes flashed. "He left you didn't he!" He stood up. "Does he know wonderful you are? Poncy bugger, I'll kill him.

She shook her head and sat up against the wall. "Spike, sit down."

He didn't listen, he kept pacing around yelling, "Left you. Stupid git. How could he leave you?"

"Why don't you ask yourself?" She said.

"What?"

"Ask yourself that question."

He blinked at her, realizing what she was talking about. "Oh, Buffy." He sat back down on the edge of the bed. "God, I'm so sorry. Buffy, I am so sorry. But you have to understand what I did, I did for you."

"You mean saving the world?. I do. I don't understand why you stayed away. If you came back, why didn't you come for me? Was it because you didn't believe I loved you?" She asked.

Spike looked at her, flashing back to the cavern crumbling around around them.


*** "I love you."

"No you don't. But thanks for saying it." ***

"Buffy I love you."

"Yeah, but you didn't believe I loved you. That's why you didn't come for me." She said starting to cry again. She pulled her knees to her chest and set her head down.

Spike crawled over to her. "I did believe it." He lifted her chin up. "I knew you loved me even before you knew it. But I couldn't tell you I love you then. If I did, then you would've stayed. And don't give me that look. I know, Summers, only too well. I wasn't going to let you go down with me in my moment of flame and glory."

She bent her head down, crying again. He kissed the top of her head. Her hair was drying and he ran his hand through her hair. IT wasn't as long as before. Just past her shoulders, perfect. "Shh, love. Don't cry." He cradled her in his arms. "Hey, you want me to go out and beat your so-called husband senseless?"

She sighed. "No. You can't."

"C'mon, Buffy. It'll make both of us feel better."

"You can't because he's dead."

"Dead?"

"Yeah, two months ago. Vampires."

"Tiny Tim?"

She nodded, trying not to cry anymore. "He wanted to send me a message. Did a good job, too. Now I'm going to send him a message by sending my stake through his heart."

Spike shook his head. Leaning his head back, he put the pieces together. That's why Angel had sent him looking for a vamp named Tiny Tim. He said the the bloke was organizing a cult of vampires. He never said anything about him killing Buffy's husband. He chucked, "Oh, Peaches, you damned, silent martyr."

"What?"

"Nothing, pet. Just marveling at the irony. "

She frowned at him. She got up to her feet. Stretch her arms out and lied on her bed. He watched her from where he sat. He smiled and tilted his head in a such a way. She stared back at him. He was sitting, back against the wall, left leg straight out, right leg bent up, his right arm resting on his knee. That smirk, the way he tilted his head when he looked at her. Like he knew something about her that she didn't.

"Are you just going to sit there all night?" She asked.

"I could. Sit here, staring at you all night. I haven't done that in a good while." He replied.

She propped herself up on her elbow. He breathed in.

"Every little thing she does is magic
Everything she do just turns me on
Even though my life before was tragic
Now I know my love for her goes on"

"Tell me something." She said.

"Anything, love."

"Where were you?"

"Don't know," he confessed. "All I remember is you, the cave collapsing, a incredible burning sensation, then nothing. Not nothing. Peace. I felt peace. And I heard a little voice telling me that you, the nibblet, and everyone had made it out. Then I opened my eyes, and I was still in god-awful town. I thought it was hell." She giggled. He smiled at her and continued. "I climbed out of the crater and hitchhiked all the way to L.A, stopping and resting during the day."

"You were in L.A?"

"Yeah. I hooked up with Angel and he welcomed me with... Well, he didn't really welcome me as much as he did turn ghost white and glared."

"Angel never told me anything."

He shifted, "Yeah, 'spose he didn't. I told him not to mention anything 'bout me. Figured that was best, you not knowing."

"You guys have really stop doing that."

"Don't I know it. Anyway, I've been staying in L.A ever since. Helping Angel out whenever he whistles for me."

"That's it?" She asked. "That's what happened. The Powers That Be just sent you back?"

He shrugged, "That's the lot of it."

She shook her head, "Whatever." She yawned.

"I should get going. You're tired," Spike said getting up and going to the door.

"No!" She said rushing to him. He raised his eyebrows at her. She looked down, then back up at him. "You don't have to. You can stay."

That's all it took. That one little eye roll up from her big green eyes peering at him through her thick lashes. "Okay," he cupped her face in his hands kissing her deeply, desperately. He needed her and she needed him. She pushed him back against the door, kissing him passionately, tugging at his bottom lip. He squeezed her by the shoulders, lifting her up and spinning her onto the bed, not missing a beat. She let her hands wander down undoing his pants as he wriggled off his jacket and tore off his shirt. He tried to do it fast, he didn't want to stop kissing her. He never wanted to stop kissing her. He untied the belt on her robe and slid his hands under her, caressing her smooth skin.

"Spike..." she gasped.

"Shh... love," he whispered. He ran his lips down the middle of her body, kissing her throat, her collarbone, along her breastplate to her belly button. She ran her hands through his hair. It was still bleach blond, but didn't have as much gel. He started kissing her on the lips again and back behind her ear. He slid into her gently and it was just like he remembered. They fit together, and nobody could tell him different. Not the Powers, not Angel, not death, not even Buffy. He knew they belonged together. They both reaching the breaking point and just laid there afterwards. She snuggled up against him, head on his chest, feeling the rise and fall every time he breathed, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. She sat up. "You're heart. It's beating!"

He closed his eyes. "You just noticed."She covered his mouth and nose. He coughed. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

"You're breathing!"

"Yes, it's what humans do." He coughed out.

"You're human?!" She shouted.

"Yeah."

"When were you going to tell me?"

He shrugged, "The day I came back."

"Augh!" She screamed. "Get out!"

"What'd I do now?"

"You didn't tell me that you were human!"

"What? You can't tell the difference?"

"No!" She yelled. "Get out!" She pushed him off the bed, and out the front door to daylight. He grabbed his duster. And she slammed the door.

"Pants!" He bellowed. She opened the door and threw his jeans out at him. He looked around. A family and a man at the ice machine stared at him. "Right." He pulled on his pants. "Nothing to see here." ***


Spike downed the last of his forty. He wasn't the slightest bit drunk. Not even a tiny bit buzzed. "Good lot that did me," he chucked the bottle into a garbage can. That night had been something. But that's what their relationship had always been. Something. There was no title for what they had. You couldn't call it a marriage, or even a boyfriend/girlfriend thing, they weren't just snogging buddies either, because they both had feelings for each other. He didn't know what to call it, but he liked it. He got in his car and turned the key. The ignition roared on. He flipped the radio to a station of classic rock and pulled out of the parking lot. Buffy told him to come back tonight. It was already close to midnight and he didn't want to come in the morning. Eight years of being a human again, and he still couldn't do the day thing.


*** He waited outside for her on a car parked in front of her room. until dusk. She came out, pulling her arm through her sleeve. She looked up and glared at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." He handed her a styrofoam cup of coffee. "Here."

She glared at him again and accepted the cup. "This doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."

"Fine."

She sipped the drink. It was just the way she liked it. Sweet, not a lot of cream. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"No. Figured I could just tag along with you, watch your back," he replied.

"Uh huh."

They went back to the bar they were at last night. Buffy pounded some guy for information and they found Tiny Tim's lair. Of course, it was swarming with vampires, but most scampered off, when they saw the slayer, afraid that more were on their way. They battled Tiny Tim, who was anything but tiny.

He knocked Buffy back into Spike. "Y'know, they really should start using the right words to describe themselves," she told Spike.

"C'mon, slayer," he growled. "I've been waiting for this."

She kicked him hard and he stumbled. He retaliated by grabbing her by the head with his massive hand and throwing her across the room.

"Buffy!" Spike called out, but he was fighting off two vampires at a time.

Buffy pushed herself up and Tiny Tim walked over and pressed his foot down on her chest, cracking a rib. He laughed, "Don't win this time, slayer." He forced her into the concrete. "Say hello to your hubby for me." Buffy's eyes flashed and she grabbed the vamp's foot, twisted it and he spun onto the ground. She flipped herself up. He got up and made to punch her but she blocked it easily. Punch, punch, back hand, she sent him flying with a kick into some boxes. She grabbed him and pulled him up, she picked up a piece of jagged wood. But before she could dust him, Spike yanked her back, and drove his own stake into the vamp's heart.

"Why did you do that?!"

"Hey, a little gratitude, here," he said.

"He's the one who killed David!" She yelled.

"I know. I couldn't let you kill him.'

"Why?"

"Because you would've killed him out of anger. You kill someone out of anger and hate, be it vampire or not, it sears into you." She stared hard at him. She wasn't sure what he was talking about. "Don't look at me that way," he said. He stepped over the large pile of ashes and took her hand. "I couldn't let you kill him. Any other vamp, sure, but that one you would've killed out of vengeance, and that leads down to a dark path."

"I've killed hundreds of vamps when I've been angry," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but not one who killed someone loved," he told her. "Remember Faith? Her mother was killed by a vamp and she she killed that vamp. That was the beginning of the end for her."

"I thought she was crazy before that," Buffy said.

Spike chuckled, "Probably, but do you understand?"

She nodded, "Yeah, thank you." He looked into her eyes, he was still holding her hand, she hadn't yet pulled away. Usually this would be the part she kneed him in the groin or punched him in the face and ran off. She moved into him and caressed his cheek. She kissed him, lightly at first, then parted his lips with her tongue, meeting with his and stroking it. The kiss became more heated when she pushed him against the wall. He let her have her way with him. Let her run her hands down his chest and under his black shirt. Let her bite his bottom lip, it drove him wild. Let her claw her nails into his back. Let her reach down, passing ever so gently over the throbbing in his jeans.

"No," he reluctantly pushed her back. He opened his eyes to see her looking up at him, bewildered. He sighed. 'Bollocks,' he thought. 'You're completely mad, Spike. Y'know that?' He smiled at her, "Let's get you home."

They went back to her motel room. "Stay here," she told him. "I'm going to take a shower. There's some Ho-Ho's on the dresser, if you're hungry." She left him sitting on the bed while she went into the bathroom. She had been here for a good while. There was a bag on the dresser, various toiletries were scattered about. There weren't just some Ho-Ho's, there was a whole arsenal. He shook his head. How could she eat all that junk and still have that hot little body? He passed up the sweets, he was never one for junk food. He poked around her stuff he found a couple bottles of anti-depressants. The girl had been living on nothing but junk food and pills.

He opened the bottles and poured out the medication. All pills were accounted for. She hadn't been taking them. He grabbed the bottle and walked to the bathroom door. He put his hand on the knob. He hesitated.


"I resolve to call her up a thousand times a day
And ask her if she'll marry me in some old fashioned way
But my silent fears have gripped me
Long before I reach the phone
Long before my tongue has tripped me
Must I always be alone?"

He didn't want to get into another fight with her. He stuck the bottle in his pocket. He could hear the water running. He turned the knob. She left the door unlocked. Sly little minx. He slipped into the bathroom. Steam rose from the shower. She hadn't yet seen him. He stripped off his clothes and pulled back the shower curtain. She let him run his hands down her slippery body. He kissed the back of her neck and she leaned into him.

They made love in the shower. Something they had never tried before. Surprisingly enough. They spent the rest of that night lying on the bed, facing each other. Buffy watched him sleep. He must've been dreaming because his eyes were moving beneath his lids. His lashes were quite long, she loved his sharply defined cheek bones, and full bottom lip. She traced the scar on his eyebrow he still had. He didn't stir. She looked at his pectoral muscles and washboard abs. He really had washboard abs. She had never realized how small he was. Angel had strong, broad shoulders, and Riley was like a football player, muscular arms. Even David was bigger than Spike. Yet, Spike was strong, toned, and had a perfectly sinewy body. She lightly kissed his lips. His eyelids fluttered open.

He looked at her and smiled. "Hello love," he whispered.

"Hi."

He closed his eyes again and flipped over onto his stomach. He was drifting back to sleep. Buffy kissed his cheek and fell asleep. Spike reached out for Buffy but instead he felt emptiness. He opened his eyes. She wasn't there. He stumbled towards the musty curtains and pulled them open, blinding himself. He shut the curtains, it had to be after twelve. He pulled on his jeans and looked around the room. None of her stuff was there either. She left him. She took off while he was sleeping. Guessed much hadn't changed. He got the rest of the way dressed. He didn't bother looking for a note, it wasn't her style. The pills were still in his pocket as was a pack of cigarettes. He peeled the label of the bottle and poured them down the drain. He went outside, lit his cigarette and walked away. She hadn't left a number, or an address of course. He started back to L.A, back to Angel, back to what life he didn't have before he saw her. He planned to give Angel a piece of his mind, maybe threaten him a bit and then demand to know where Buffy was. But decided against it, Buffy obviously didn't want him to know where she was, or else she wouldn't have left. He smirked to himself. ***

"Every little thing she does is magic
Everything she do just turns me on
Even though my life before was tragic
Now I know my love for her goes on"

(To be continued...)

(It's been really fun writing these last two chapters. I'm glad everyone's enjoying it. If anyone's confused, just e-mail me.)