Disclaimer: I only own Buffy's family, excluding Joyce. The poem Spike reads is "A Magic Moment I Remember" by Pishkin and Buffy's poem is "The Night Has A Thousand Eyes" by Francis William Bourdillon, Spike's second poem is called "My Suburban Girl" by Samuel Alfred Beadle.
Previously: Buffy and Spike have shared their first "real" kiss...but unbeknownst to them, Kevin, Buffy's cousin, was watching. Later, they finished the night with some good, old-fashioned "'Twas the Night Before Christmas"-ness...
(---)
Spike was in the midst of a dream. A beautiful dream--in which Buffy was his--not that she wasn't when he was awake--but...Anyway, it was a good dream- -one he wasn't likey to forget anytime soon--and now someone was trying to steal that dream away from him.
He turned on his opposite side--away from the offensive limb. When they shook him again, Spike--still in his traces of sleep--smacked back. And then he didn't need to be shaken. The pain that shot through his head was enough to wake him.
"BLOODY HELL!" Spike sat up, holding his head. Buffy reeled back falling on her butt on the floor.
"Spike?" Buffy sat on her knees against the side of the cot. The vampire had returned to a lying position--still holding his forehead.
"Hate that goddamn chip!" Spike fumed--less menacing than before.
"Sorry about that. I didn't know you'd hit back," Buffy apologized.
"It's okay, Pet. Just a bit of a shock--literally--I'll be fine," Spike assured her, pushing the blankets away from him.
"Good. 'Cause guess what?" Buffy smiled at him--child-like--.
"What, Pet?" Spike asked pulling a shirt over his head.
"It's Christmas morning!" she squealed. Spike had to think over the implications of that statement--but before he could reply he was being tugged up the stairs.
"Hey! Buffy!" Judy waved from her spot on the floor--the discarded wrapping paper making it impossible to see the carpet. Buffy pulled Spike to the floor and grabbed at a box. The tag read 'Spike', so she handed it over.
The vampire was surprised when Buffy handed him a gift. He hadn't really been expecting to get anything from the family. But here he was--holding a present from Judy, Hank and the three girls. Spike smiled and tugged at the wrapping. The paper slid away easily to reveal a box from April Fools'. Spike's brow creased as he pulled off the top. Nestled in the tissue paper were three black tee shirts.
"Hey, look, more black," Buffy said, looking into the box.
"We weren't sure what to get you," Judy said.
"I wanted to get you some literature books for school but Judy said that was 'inappropriate'," Hank joked from Judy's other side.
"I can always use new shirts." Spike put the box aside and leaned back on his hands when Buffy tossed another present at him. This one was from Joyce. He glanced up at her--but Slayer-Mom was talking with her other sis. Carefully, Spike ripped away the paper. Inside was a plastic wrapped box.
"Season one of Passions! On DVD! All right!" Spike exclaimed. Buffy looked at the gift--then quirked her eyebrow at him.
"You are so weird," she commented. So far she'd gotten: new boots from her mom; a couple of shirts from Judy; a book by Stephen King from her dad and Denise; hand-drawn pictures from the three girls and a whole new make-up kit from Joan.
"Yeah, so?" Spike pulled a present from behind her--and put it in her lap. There was no tag but she could easily figure out whom it was from.
"Spike--you really shouldn't have--the basement thing was enough," Buffy whispered but she still accepted the small box. Gently, she pulled the paper off. Inside was a small, brown sachet. She took off the top and placed it aside. Within the cotton was a delicate, golden, locket.
The Slayer gasped softly as she lifted the locket up. She opened it. On one side was a picture of her mom and on the other was a picture of Xander, Willow and Giles. Buffy could've cried. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. On the front, a tiny rose--surrounded by the triquetra-- was etched in the faintest pink tone.
"Symbol there--means unity," Spike pointed to the triquetra. Buffy handed the necklace to him and held her hair away from the back of her neck. Spike leaned back--to slip the chain around her thin neck and clip it together.
"It's gorgeous," Buffy breathed, fingering the gold again.
"It's nothing," Spike replied.
"Oh, it's something. Now my gift will be--like--boring," Buffy countered holding up the blue-wrapped gift.
"Doubt it, Pet," Spike took the heavy present from her and opened the paper. He almost fainted at the sight of the six thick volumes of the Poetry Collection she'd bought.
"You like?"
"Jesus, Pet, this has got--I know these guys--I haven't read him in years-- Buffy look--no, it even has--I don't believe it--I didn't know he was a poet--!"
Spike's reaction satisfied Buffy. Considering, she'd only spent a hundred bucks on those books--he seemed fascinated by every author there. He probably knew some of them back in his day, she mused, thinking about how he'd probably sat as a young boy reading away the hours--loosing track of time while he did so--starting at dawn and not looking up again until dusk. She could totally picture him doing that--even if now he had the shortest attention span of anyone she knew.
"Buffy, breakfast is going to be ready in about an hour--why don't you and Spike head back down stairs for a bit," Joyce suggested.
"Do you really think that's such a--." Jim started.
"Shush, Jim, I believe I was talking to Buffy," Joyce's voice didn't falter from the cheeriness. She was even still smiling when she looked over at him.
"I think that's a good idea, Mom," Buffy answered. She stood up and grabbed her presents, before nodding to Spike to follow.
(--)
They hit the cot in a fit of giggles. All Buffy could think about was watching her father's face when Joyce had told him to shut up. She laughed so hard--her stomach was beginning to hurt.
"God, you're beautiful." The simple phrase--which escaped Spike's lips inadvertently--made Buffy freeze--her eyes locking with his.
Damn, Spike thought, now, I've gone and scared her off. Me and my bloody mouth! Can't keep the damn thing shut even if it means the death of me!
"Thank you," Buffy replied softly, blush creeping up her cheeks. She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and regarded him with a shy, schoolgirl, first-crush kind of smile. God, Buffy thought, I can't believe I'm acting like this around him. It's Spike for god's sakes! Just five minutes ago we were laughing our asses off at my father--now it's all shy-Buffy and stuff!
Spike needed something--anything--to draw her back--to make her less self- conscious. He looked around the basement quickly--there wasn't much to use as a diversionary tactic. The air in the room was thick with tension--Spike could've sat watching her like he was for hours on end--leaving the 'beautiful' remark in the open--if he wanted to--but Buffy seemed uncomfortable by it--and his first instinct was to make her as happy and carefree as humanly--or inhumanly--possible.
That's when his eyes landed on the collection of poetry book Buffy had given him. He'd remembered to bring them down when the pair had retreated to the basement. The vampire stood up--he wanted to be inconspicuous so Buffy wouldn't suspect he was trying to change the subject--and walked over to the tiny table where the books were. He picked a book and turned around-- his mouth open to speak--
"Will you read to me?" Buffy asked before Spike could even process the right words. Her question caught him off-guard and stumbled through his next thoughts.
"Sure, Pet," he finally answered, bringing the book back over to the cot, "who do you want to read?" He leaned back against the wall, opening the book in his lap.
"You pick," Buffy settled herself in the crook of his shoulder, laying her head back against his chest. Automatically, Spike's arm curled around her waist--so he could employ this hand to assist in the book holding.
"Give me a minute--," Spike flipped through the pages gracefully, stopping when one caught his attention, "here's one...
A magic moment I remember;
I raised my eyes and you were there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare.
I pray to mute despair and anguish,
To vain pursuits the world esteems,
Long did I hear your soothing accents,
Long did your features haunt my dreams.
Time passed. A rebel stormed-blast scattered,
The reveries that once were mine
And I forgot you soothing accents,
Your features gracefully divine.
In dark days of enforced retirement
I gazed upon gray skies above
With no ideals to inspire me,
No one to cry for, live for, love.
Then came a moment of renaissance,
I looked up--and you again are there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare."
With the last lines of the poem, Buffy was captivated. She couldn't move or breathe for fear that it would break the spell that the words had cast. She felt Spike begin to sigh behind her--and she knew it was okay to taint the air with her own whisper for content.
"That was--ah..." Buffy compliment quietly--still she unable to put her admiration towards the poem into coherent phrases.
"Glad you liked it, Pet," Spike said, looking down at her as she grasped the book from him.
"Can I read one now?" she asked lightly, already flipping the pages.
"Course. Look for one you like," Spike replied. It only took her three books later to find the perfect one to read to him--but she did. Her voice rang sweetly into the air morning.
"The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies,
With the dying sun
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies,
When love is done."
"I like that one," Spike concurred. It was a pretty poem--and from someone who knew poetry like he did--that was a relatively well-off compliment. That was one of the few things he'd hid from his dark princess--his continued interest in poetry. Angel and Darla never understood Spike's fascination with literature--which made him poncy in Angelus' eyes--but Dru never failed to amaze him by how much she pretended to care about his passion.
Eventually, he stopped stealing poetry books--making Dru believe she'd destroyed the poet and was left with the killer--he'd write down verses that came to him--mostly during the daylight hours when he was alone--or after Dru had begun her rhyming rants. Drusilla would almost always speak in rhymes when she was having a vision--and then it stopped being just during the visions--as her insanity grew to an all-time high.
"Pick another," Buffy suggested. And so they went back and forth for hours until Spike came upon a poem that struck him.
"This one's a bit of coincidence, Luv," Spike said pulling the book from her Slayer grip.
"Please, I don't believe in coincidence," Buffy attested.
"Then this is one hell of a lot of weird," Spike said...
"I know a suburban girl,
She's witty, bright and brief;
With dimples in her cheeks;
And pearl in rubies set, for teeth.
Beneath her glossy sunbeam hair
There beams a hazel eye--."
"It doesn't say that," Buffy chided, she grabbed at the book.
"Are you calling me a liar?" Spike smirked.
"Yes, a big, fat, slightly obnoxious liar!" She reached again.
"Now, I'm hurt!" Spike joked, holding the book farther from her hand.
"No you're not--but you will be if you don't give me that book!" Buffy warned playfully, jumping across his lap to make one last effort on the book. Fortunately, Spike wasn't nearly as quick as Buffy and she was able to pull the book away before he even had the chance to move.
She scanned the page--reading the lines of the poem in her heard--finding his change. She smacked him on the shoulder with the book.
"It says 'raven hair'! You idiot! Not sunbeam!" She laughed in spite of faux anger she was portraying.
"Called poetic license, Pet. You should learn it," Spike mocked. And with that she tackled him to the bed. The foolish games took a pause--as she was a bit out of breath and he--well, he pretended to be out of breath. Spike lay on his back with Buffy draped along the length of him--her head resting on his chest. They lay there for a few minutes--each silently hoping there would be no unwanted interruptions.
"Spike, can I ask you something?" Buffy's voice was quiet and muffled--but that was due to her cheek being pressed into Spike's abs.
"What is it, Pet?" Spike's chest rumbled when he spoke--making Buffy smile.
"Have you ever wished you--um--died--instead of being turned," Buffy knew she was stepping into uncharted territory--but she was willing to take a hit for the team.
There was a moment of silence before Spike struggled to sit up. In doing so, the vamp moved Buffy to his lap--making it easier for her to look into his eyes. But all the secrets those azure depths were holding couldn't be spilled so easily. The Slayer was about to coax his answer when he spoke.
"I've been around for nearly two-hundred years, Pet, and there wasn't a day that went by when I didn't wish it--till I met you," Spike breathed.
In four words, the vampire managed to kill whatever part of Buffy was still debating her feelings for him. That little voice--the one that came out when she thought of her friends or even Riley--had been squashed by the answer he'd given her.
She looked up at him--her hazel eyes soft--the same delicateness resembled in his electric blue ones. He grinned gently--strengthening the feeling behind his words. She could only smile in return. This being the second moment--that morning--she'd felt talking was a monumental No-No.
Deep, beneath the quiet façade, Spike's heart was screaming out to him. Out to tell her how the vampire felt. About how much he loved her. Even he knew that the meaning behind those words probably surpassed the Slayer's early- morning logic. I'm a bloody prat! Spike thought, I can't even tell her what I feel. Course, she'd most likey laugh or hit me--break my bloody nose, the stupid bitch--not like the feelings would be reciprocated. I'll be damned if the Slayer's not just using me to get over Captain Cardboard! But, what if--what if she does understand--what if she knows--what if she feels-- what? The same? She's made it clear these past years how she feels about me. It's just--these last few days--things have changed--but--a couple of kisses isn't love, you idiot! She had gotten him the poetry books--and she had slept with him the past few nights but--no! I don't give a damn how she feels--it's all about how I feel around her, even though he knew that wasn't true.
The vampire knew in just three day's time, he's be heading back to Rupes' house and the Slayer would be joining up with her Scooby pals. They'd never accept him--let alone accept anything between Buffy and him--but when she went back--would she forget him--was he just that vacation fling?
Spike frowned. For the first time in a while--he was afraid. Not because he would still be on the Scooby hit-list or that he'd end up chained back in that bathtub--but because he was gonna loose Buffy--loose her somewhere he was likely to never get her back.
(--)
Joyce and Jack stood at the top of the stairs--the place where Kevin had been the day before--watching the scene unfold below them. Joyce could practically hear Buffy falling in love even as Spike's heart was breaking. Her father motioned to the door, and they slipped out.
"She doesn't know, does she?" Grandpa Jack asked.
"I don't think so," Joyce replied.
"Are you going to tell her," Jack continued.
"She needs to find out herself," Joyce answered curtly.
"This could ruin it," Jack whispered fervently.
"Buffy needs to learn." Joyce started down the hall. Her father caught her hand and turned her to face him again.
"Buffy needs him--and he needs her--no matter how much they don't believe so," Jack protested.
"It's there business." She turned away again.
"You know it's all of our problems." Jack called down the hallway.
Joyce turned on her heel and stomped back to her father. She looked him in the eye--her face set in resolve.
"I will not be the one to tell her. I'm sorry," Joyce said.
"Spike'll tell her," Jack stated.
"Then Spike should. He'll have to deal with it firsthand anyway," Joyce barked.
"Buffy's gonna need her mom." Joyce didn't answer--instead she continued her path away from her father. The elder man turned away and started up stairs.
"Buffy's gonna need a therapist," Jack muttered, "especially with a new baby on the way."
TBC in Chapter 9: Christmas Day...
A/N: Nope, I'm not gonna tell you who's pregnant. You may be able to guess it. You may not be able to. In the coming chapters:
There's a fight... There's a pregnancy... There's a phone call... There's a snowstorm... There's a car accident...
Previously: Buffy and Spike have shared their first "real" kiss...but unbeknownst to them, Kevin, Buffy's cousin, was watching. Later, they finished the night with some good, old-fashioned "'Twas the Night Before Christmas"-ness...
(---)
Spike was in the midst of a dream. A beautiful dream--in which Buffy was his--not that she wasn't when he was awake--but...Anyway, it was a good dream- -one he wasn't likey to forget anytime soon--and now someone was trying to steal that dream away from him.
He turned on his opposite side--away from the offensive limb. When they shook him again, Spike--still in his traces of sleep--smacked back. And then he didn't need to be shaken. The pain that shot through his head was enough to wake him.
"BLOODY HELL!" Spike sat up, holding his head. Buffy reeled back falling on her butt on the floor.
"Spike?" Buffy sat on her knees against the side of the cot. The vampire had returned to a lying position--still holding his forehead.
"Hate that goddamn chip!" Spike fumed--less menacing than before.
"Sorry about that. I didn't know you'd hit back," Buffy apologized.
"It's okay, Pet. Just a bit of a shock--literally--I'll be fine," Spike assured her, pushing the blankets away from him.
"Good. 'Cause guess what?" Buffy smiled at him--child-like--.
"What, Pet?" Spike asked pulling a shirt over his head.
"It's Christmas morning!" she squealed. Spike had to think over the implications of that statement--but before he could reply he was being tugged up the stairs.
"Hey! Buffy!" Judy waved from her spot on the floor--the discarded wrapping paper making it impossible to see the carpet. Buffy pulled Spike to the floor and grabbed at a box. The tag read 'Spike', so she handed it over.
The vampire was surprised when Buffy handed him a gift. He hadn't really been expecting to get anything from the family. But here he was--holding a present from Judy, Hank and the three girls. Spike smiled and tugged at the wrapping. The paper slid away easily to reveal a box from April Fools'. Spike's brow creased as he pulled off the top. Nestled in the tissue paper were three black tee shirts.
"Hey, look, more black," Buffy said, looking into the box.
"We weren't sure what to get you," Judy said.
"I wanted to get you some literature books for school but Judy said that was 'inappropriate'," Hank joked from Judy's other side.
"I can always use new shirts." Spike put the box aside and leaned back on his hands when Buffy tossed another present at him. This one was from Joyce. He glanced up at her--but Slayer-Mom was talking with her other sis. Carefully, Spike ripped away the paper. Inside was a plastic wrapped box.
"Season one of Passions! On DVD! All right!" Spike exclaimed. Buffy looked at the gift--then quirked her eyebrow at him.
"You are so weird," she commented. So far she'd gotten: new boots from her mom; a couple of shirts from Judy; a book by Stephen King from her dad and Denise; hand-drawn pictures from the three girls and a whole new make-up kit from Joan.
"Yeah, so?" Spike pulled a present from behind her--and put it in her lap. There was no tag but she could easily figure out whom it was from.
"Spike--you really shouldn't have--the basement thing was enough," Buffy whispered but she still accepted the small box. Gently, she pulled the paper off. Inside was a small, brown sachet. She took off the top and placed it aside. Within the cotton was a delicate, golden, locket.
The Slayer gasped softly as she lifted the locket up. She opened it. On one side was a picture of her mom and on the other was a picture of Xander, Willow and Giles. Buffy could've cried. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. On the front, a tiny rose--surrounded by the triquetra-- was etched in the faintest pink tone.
"Symbol there--means unity," Spike pointed to the triquetra. Buffy handed the necklace to him and held her hair away from the back of her neck. Spike leaned back--to slip the chain around her thin neck and clip it together.
"It's gorgeous," Buffy breathed, fingering the gold again.
"It's nothing," Spike replied.
"Oh, it's something. Now my gift will be--like--boring," Buffy countered holding up the blue-wrapped gift.
"Doubt it, Pet," Spike took the heavy present from her and opened the paper. He almost fainted at the sight of the six thick volumes of the Poetry Collection she'd bought.
"You like?"
"Jesus, Pet, this has got--I know these guys--I haven't read him in years-- Buffy look--no, it even has--I don't believe it--I didn't know he was a poet--!"
Spike's reaction satisfied Buffy. Considering, she'd only spent a hundred bucks on those books--he seemed fascinated by every author there. He probably knew some of them back in his day, she mused, thinking about how he'd probably sat as a young boy reading away the hours--loosing track of time while he did so--starting at dawn and not looking up again until dusk. She could totally picture him doing that--even if now he had the shortest attention span of anyone she knew.
"Buffy, breakfast is going to be ready in about an hour--why don't you and Spike head back down stairs for a bit," Joyce suggested.
"Do you really think that's such a--." Jim started.
"Shush, Jim, I believe I was talking to Buffy," Joyce's voice didn't falter from the cheeriness. She was even still smiling when she looked over at him.
"I think that's a good idea, Mom," Buffy answered. She stood up and grabbed her presents, before nodding to Spike to follow.
(--)
They hit the cot in a fit of giggles. All Buffy could think about was watching her father's face when Joyce had told him to shut up. She laughed so hard--her stomach was beginning to hurt.
"God, you're beautiful." The simple phrase--which escaped Spike's lips inadvertently--made Buffy freeze--her eyes locking with his.
Damn, Spike thought, now, I've gone and scared her off. Me and my bloody mouth! Can't keep the damn thing shut even if it means the death of me!
"Thank you," Buffy replied softly, blush creeping up her cheeks. She pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and regarded him with a shy, schoolgirl, first-crush kind of smile. God, Buffy thought, I can't believe I'm acting like this around him. It's Spike for god's sakes! Just five minutes ago we were laughing our asses off at my father--now it's all shy-Buffy and stuff!
Spike needed something--anything--to draw her back--to make her less self- conscious. He looked around the basement quickly--there wasn't much to use as a diversionary tactic. The air in the room was thick with tension--Spike could've sat watching her like he was for hours on end--leaving the 'beautiful' remark in the open--if he wanted to--but Buffy seemed uncomfortable by it--and his first instinct was to make her as happy and carefree as humanly--or inhumanly--possible.
That's when his eyes landed on the collection of poetry book Buffy had given him. He'd remembered to bring them down when the pair had retreated to the basement. The vampire stood up--he wanted to be inconspicuous so Buffy wouldn't suspect he was trying to change the subject--and walked over to the tiny table where the books were. He picked a book and turned around-- his mouth open to speak--
"Will you read to me?" Buffy asked before Spike could even process the right words. Her question caught him off-guard and stumbled through his next thoughts.
"Sure, Pet," he finally answered, bringing the book back over to the cot, "who do you want to read?" He leaned back against the wall, opening the book in his lap.
"You pick," Buffy settled herself in the crook of his shoulder, laying her head back against his chest. Automatically, Spike's arm curled around her waist--so he could employ this hand to assist in the book holding.
"Give me a minute--," Spike flipped through the pages gracefully, stopping when one caught his attention, "here's one...
A magic moment I remember;
I raised my eyes and you were there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare.
I pray to mute despair and anguish,
To vain pursuits the world esteems,
Long did I hear your soothing accents,
Long did your features haunt my dreams.
Time passed. A rebel stormed-blast scattered,
The reveries that once were mine
And I forgot you soothing accents,
Your features gracefully divine.
In dark days of enforced retirement
I gazed upon gray skies above
With no ideals to inspire me,
No one to cry for, live for, love.
Then came a moment of renaissance,
I looked up--and you again are there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare."
With the last lines of the poem, Buffy was captivated. She couldn't move or breathe for fear that it would break the spell that the words had cast. She felt Spike begin to sigh behind her--and she knew it was okay to taint the air with her own whisper for content.
"That was--ah..." Buffy compliment quietly--still she unable to put her admiration towards the poem into coherent phrases.
"Glad you liked it, Pet," Spike said, looking down at her as she grasped the book from him.
"Can I read one now?" she asked lightly, already flipping the pages.
"Course. Look for one you like," Spike replied. It only took her three books later to find the perfect one to read to him--but she did. Her voice rang sweetly into the air morning.
"The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies,
With the dying sun
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies,
When love is done."
"I like that one," Spike concurred. It was a pretty poem--and from someone who knew poetry like he did--that was a relatively well-off compliment. That was one of the few things he'd hid from his dark princess--his continued interest in poetry. Angel and Darla never understood Spike's fascination with literature--which made him poncy in Angelus' eyes--but Dru never failed to amaze him by how much she pretended to care about his passion.
Eventually, he stopped stealing poetry books--making Dru believe she'd destroyed the poet and was left with the killer--he'd write down verses that came to him--mostly during the daylight hours when he was alone--or after Dru had begun her rhyming rants. Drusilla would almost always speak in rhymes when she was having a vision--and then it stopped being just during the visions--as her insanity grew to an all-time high.
"Pick another," Buffy suggested. And so they went back and forth for hours until Spike came upon a poem that struck him.
"This one's a bit of coincidence, Luv," Spike said pulling the book from her Slayer grip.
"Please, I don't believe in coincidence," Buffy attested.
"Then this is one hell of a lot of weird," Spike said...
"I know a suburban girl,
She's witty, bright and brief;
With dimples in her cheeks;
And pearl in rubies set, for teeth.
Beneath her glossy sunbeam hair
There beams a hazel eye--."
"It doesn't say that," Buffy chided, she grabbed at the book.
"Are you calling me a liar?" Spike smirked.
"Yes, a big, fat, slightly obnoxious liar!" She reached again.
"Now, I'm hurt!" Spike joked, holding the book farther from her hand.
"No you're not--but you will be if you don't give me that book!" Buffy warned playfully, jumping across his lap to make one last effort on the book. Fortunately, Spike wasn't nearly as quick as Buffy and she was able to pull the book away before he even had the chance to move.
She scanned the page--reading the lines of the poem in her heard--finding his change. She smacked him on the shoulder with the book.
"It says 'raven hair'! You idiot! Not sunbeam!" She laughed in spite of faux anger she was portraying.
"Called poetic license, Pet. You should learn it," Spike mocked. And with that she tackled him to the bed. The foolish games took a pause--as she was a bit out of breath and he--well, he pretended to be out of breath. Spike lay on his back with Buffy draped along the length of him--her head resting on his chest. They lay there for a few minutes--each silently hoping there would be no unwanted interruptions.
"Spike, can I ask you something?" Buffy's voice was quiet and muffled--but that was due to her cheek being pressed into Spike's abs.
"What is it, Pet?" Spike's chest rumbled when he spoke--making Buffy smile.
"Have you ever wished you--um--died--instead of being turned," Buffy knew she was stepping into uncharted territory--but she was willing to take a hit for the team.
There was a moment of silence before Spike struggled to sit up. In doing so, the vamp moved Buffy to his lap--making it easier for her to look into his eyes. But all the secrets those azure depths were holding couldn't be spilled so easily. The Slayer was about to coax his answer when he spoke.
"I've been around for nearly two-hundred years, Pet, and there wasn't a day that went by when I didn't wish it--till I met you," Spike breathed.
In four words, the vampire managed to kill whatever part of Buffy was still debating her feelings for him. That little voice--the one that came out when she thought of her friends or even Riley--had been squashed by the answer he'd given her.
She looked up at him--her hazel eyes soft--the same delicateness resembled in his electric blue ones. He grinned gently--strengthening the feeling behind his words. She could only smile in return. This being the second moment--that morning--she'd felt talking was a monumental No-No.
Deep, beneath the quiet façade, Spike's heart was screaming out to him. Out to tell her how the vampire felt. About how much he loved her. Even he knew that the meaning behind those words probably surpassed the Slayer's early- morning logic. I'm a bloody prat! Spike thought, I can't even tell her what I feel. Course, she'd most likey laugh or hit me--break my bloody nose, the stupid bitch--not like the feelings would be reciprocated. I'll be damned if the Slayer's not just using me to get over Captain Cardboard! But, what if--what if she does understand--what if she knows--what if she feels-- what? The same? She's made it clear these past years how she feels about me. It's just--these last few days--things have changed--but--a couple of kisses isn't love, you idiot! She had gotten him the poetry books--and she had slept with him the past few nights but--no! I don't give a damn how she feels--it's all about how I feel around her, even though he knew that wasn't true.
The vampire knew in just three day's time, he's be heading back to Rupes' house and the Slayer would be joining up with her Scooby pals. They'd never accept him--let alone accept anything between Buffy and him--but when she went back--would she forget him--was he just that vacation fling?
Spike frowned. For the first time in a while--he was afraid. Not because he would still be on the Scooby hit-list or that he'd end up chained back in that bathtub--but because he was gonna loose Buffy--loose her somewhere he was likely to never get her back.
(--)
Joyce and Jack stood at the top of the stairs--the place where Kevin had been the day before--watching the scene unfold below them. Joyce could practically hear Buffy falling in love even as Spike's heart was breaking. Her father motioned to the door, and they slipped out.
"She doesn't know, does she?" Grandpa Jack asked.
"I don't think so," Joyce replied.
"Are you going to tell her," Jack continued.
"She needs to find out herself," Joyce answered curtly.
"This could ruin it," Jack whispered fervently.
"Buffy needs to learn." Joyce started down the hall. Her father caught her hand and turned her to face him again.
"Buffy needs him--and he needs her--no matter how much they don't believe so," Jack protested.
"It's there business." She turned away again.
"You know it's all of our problems." Jack called down the hallway.
Joyce turned on her heel and stomped back to her father. She looked him in the eye--her face set in resolve.
"I will not be the one to tell her. I'm sorry," Joyce said.
"Spike'll tell her," Jack stated.
"Then Spike should. He'll have to deal with it firsthand anyway," Joyce barked.
"Buffy's gonna need her mom." Joyce didn't answer--instead she continued her path away from her father. The elder man turned away and started up stairs.
"Buffy's gonna need a therapist," Jack muttered, "especially with a new baby on the way."
TBC in Chapter 9: Christmas Day...
A/N: Nope, I'm not gonna tell you who's pregnant. You may be able to guess it. You may not be able to. In the coming chapters:
There's a fight... There's a pregnancy... There's a phone call... There's a snowstorm... There's a car accident...