A/N: This chapter contains adult content (sexual situations).
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CHAPTER FIVE
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She reached down, fondling and stroking him, coaxing him back to life.
Not that it took much effort on her part.
He lifted his head from the pillow, gazing at her quizzically.
She grinned. "My turn."
He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Yep," she confirmed, a wicked gleam in her eye.
He met it with a smirk of his own. "Well, then. Best get to it."
"I will. As soon as you turn over."
"What?"
"You heard me. Turn. Over. Now."
She didn't have to order him twice. Okay, three times. He obediently flipped over onto his stomach.
She placed her lips to his ear. "Now get that sweet bum of yours in the air."
"What?"
She blew out an exasperated sigh. "Spike!"
His ass shot up and his knees spread apart at her silent urging, muscles quivering in anticipation as she ran her hands lightly across his flanks. Then, before he could even get acclimated, she was sliding between his legs, head strategically positioned just below a very aroused, very impatient part of his anatomy.
He lifted his chest a bit to get a better view of the action to come and shivered as he saw her little pink tongue peeking out between her lips. Her head craned upwards, mouth opening wide…then stopped.
"And Spike?"
"Yeah?" His voice was hoarse.
"Don't move a single muscle until I say you can." Then flashing him a wicked grin, she went to work like a hungry woman with a double chocolate mint ice cream cone.
He groaned long and loud and pretty much non-stop.
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"You still love me," she told him solemnly, one questing finger tracing an aimless pattern across his chest. "I wasn't sure until you tried to hook me up with Angel. It's sort of like that book about the two guys? 'A Tale of Two…Somethings.' The one guy got his head chopped off so the girl could be with the other guy. He loved her enough to give her up. To die for her."
Buffy's head tilted back, soft lips brushing against his ear. "Just like you."
The warm breath on his neck sent a fresh shiver coursing through him, but Spike was suddenly too aware of the passing time to act on it. Instead, he sighed. "Got the wrong vamp, pet. I'm not the noble, self-sacrificing one. That's Angel's gig, remember?"
As soon as the name tumbled from his lips, he silently cursed himself for a bloody pillock. Right. Every post-coital chat should include singing the praises of the ex. Why didn't he throw out a few compliments on Captain Cardboard's posture while he was at it?
Buffy pushed herself to a sitting position. "Really," she challenged, staring down at him with crossed her arms that perfectly framed her pert breasts. "I know a hellmouth that would disagree. If it could talk." She frowned. "Which it can't, of course." She squinted at him uncertainly. "Can it?" Then shrugging, she moved to straddle him, leaning down to rest her weight solidly on his chest. He stared back at her, mesmerized, as her lips grazed the exquisitely sensitive spot where his jaw joined his neck.
"Honestly? I wasn't really surprised. That you didn't let me know you were back, I mean. Mad as hell but not exactly picking my jaw up off the floor. The old you would have fought for me – fists and fangs, like you used to say. Whatever it took. This you? He gets a little confused." She tilted her head. "A little broody, even. Over-thinking things. Making big decisions that affect certain people without even asking that certain person how she felt about it. Just like another souled-up pain-in-the-ass vampire I know."
Now there was a mood-killer.
"I am NOTHING like An—"
Her mouth descended on his, thoroughly kissing all inclination to protest right out of his head.
"I love you. Love you…so much," she whispered into his mouth.
A slightly hysterical giggle bubbled up in his throat and Buffy pulled back, staring quizzically.
"What?"
"You. This." Reaching up, he touched her hair, twining a strand of it around his finger. "When Angel told us all to go out and have ourselves a day to remember…never dreamed mine would turn out this way."
Her questioning look dissolved into a frown. "Oh, great. Now I don't know whether to melt into a mushy pile of goo or start worrying. What's going on?"
He drew in a deep breath. "Buffy…" His voice was gentle.
"I knew it," she declared flatly. "Why does this always happen? Just once, couldn't my timing not suck?" Collapsing beside him, her breath escaped in an annoyed whoosh. She lay silent a second, then, "Tell me."
It was his turn to sit up. "Figured Angel would've already done that."
"Well, he might have if I'd seen him. Which I haven't since I came straight from the airport. So you get to do the honors."
He blinked. "If you haven't seen anyone, how did you know where I live?"
"Andrew told me."
"Yeah. 'Cause he pops over here on a regular basis. How the bloody hell did Andrew know?"
She shrugged, a move that again pulled his gaze to her uncovered breasts. Question forgotten, he stared transfixed until she cleared her throat. His eyes jumped back to hers to find open amusement gleaming in their depths. She sat up, reaching behind her to plump the pillow as she settled herself against the headboard, all without knocking him to the floor. It was no mean feat, either, considering the narrow width of his bed.
"He called Wesley. Told him he needed your address so he could send you a Christmas card."
Keeping his gaze squarely on her face, his eyebrow rose. "In the middle of May?"
She smiled brightly. "He likes to plan ahead." The smile faded as she traced the outline of his lips. "Still waiting."
Depositing a kiss on her fingers, he moved to sit next to her, lifting his arm to gather her against him. She rested her head on his shoulder, and with a few succinct words he filled her in on Angel's plan. In general terms, of course, since he still didn't know the specifics.
By the time he'd finished, the little crinkle between her brows had made a return appearance. She looked at him in disbelief.
"That's it? That's his big plan? Throw a rock through the window and run like heck?"
"It's a bit more involved than that, pet."
"It's insane, you mean. What is he thinking? What are you thinking, following blindly along with it?"
His jaw clenched. "Not blind and not followin'. Made a choice."
"A crazy choice."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Right. Cazier than thinkin' a handful of bouncy teenagers with shiny new slayer powers could win out against a few hundred thousand uber-vamps?" he asked testily.
"It worked, didn't it?" she demanded.
"The amulet worked! All that she-power mumbo jumbo was a waste of time and lives. Could've bloody well done the whole thing without—"
The stricken look on her face cut him off in mid-tirade. It was fleeting, gone almost before he realized it, but it stopped him cold.
He spoke softly, his tone gentle. "Didn't mean it, Buffy. Was just blowin' off at you. It was bloody brilliant."
"No." She shook her head, her face taking on that pinched look he'd always hated to see. "It wasn't. I really thought it would be enough, but there were too many of them. We couldn't have held them off indefinitely. If you hadn't been there with the amulet..." Her voice trailed off as she looked away. "Instead, it was all for nothing."
"Wouldn't say that. Got slayers all over the world now, takin' care of business, yeah? Keepin' people safe. Don't have to do it all on your own anymore."
She met his gaze. "I never did." She took his hand between hers, twining their fingers together. "Thank you. For being there. You could have given up on me. I didn't make it easy for you."
He smiled faintly. "Reckon I could say the same."
"At least you had a good excuse. You were evil. I wish—"
He silenced her with a long, thorough kiss. He broke it off slowly then shook his head. "No use wishin' for things that can't be, pet. Rather we put that time and energy into the here and now."
"That's really nice. Except there won't be any here and now after tonight if Angel gets his way." She bit her lip, forehead crinkling. "Giles was right. He was worried from the start that Angel would get too tight with the corporate evil. That he might get confused…lose his way. But I didn't really believe it, even though I knew we couldn't take the chance. You can't get in bed with evil and stay clean."
Her head shot up, eyes wide. "I didn't mean—"
"It's okay, I know what you meant. And you're right. Said as much m'self. But he was doin' what he thought he had to. Got sucked in but never went over, no matter what Rupert might have thought. He's a self-righteous son of a bitch with delusions of Gary Cooper-hood, but he's nobody's kept vamp, least of all Wolfram and Bloody Hart."
She stared at him. "Oh. My. God."
He frowned. "What?"
"You're defending Angel."
He glowered. "Defen--? Rubbish! No such thing. Just pointing out--"
"You are. You're defending him. Which is odd and kinda disturbing. Has hell frozen over? 'Cause I left my ice skates at home."
His jaw clenched. "I'm just sayin'…he's got his reasons. Somethin' you might know if you hadn't been off playing disco queen with—"
"I'm not seeing him anymore."
Spike halted, mouth half open, then shifted awkwardly and sniffed. "Seein' who?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Her sigh was exasperated. "You know who. I'm not going to play this game with you. I know you were there. I know you saw us. He's history, okay? It was never serious."
Spike gave up the pretense. "Not according to Andrew," he muttered.
"Really. And would this be the same Andrew who told the potentials that Faith killed Mr. Spock?"
He blinked. "Yeah…" He squinted. "History, you say?"
"Less than that. Not even a footnote."
"Well…" Pulling her closer, he settled her head on his shoulder. "Guess that's all right then."
He felt her smile against his neck and turned his head to drop a soft kiss on her forehead.
She sighed, snuggling closer for a moment then abruptly pulled back. "How much time do we have?" Looking up at him, she frowned, nibbling on her lower lip as she seemed to mull over their situation.
He shook his head, eyes caressing her mouth. "Not enough time to send for reinforcements, love, if that's what you're thinking."
"Not a problem. And not what I meant. How much time do we have."
Already he could sense dusk approaching and with it, the enforced end of their all-too-brief time together. Part of him wanted Angel to find them here like this, but part of him…didn't. Not just for Buffy's sake, either.
He squirmed uncomfortably, not willing to explore that thought too deeply.
"Not long. They'll be here soon." Head tilting back, he stared bleakly at the dingy ceiling above the bed. "Can't bloody believe I'm saying this, but you'd best get dressed now unless you've a mind to give the others an eyeful." He shifted then, about to rise, but stopped when she grasped his arm.
"Come with me."
"What?"
"To Rome. Come with me."
"Buffy…"
"Please. We can leave now. I can change my flight. We'll get tickets at the airport."
His brow arched. "And what about Angel?"
"He's being stupid. We'll hit him over the head, stick him in a crate, and ship him to England until Giles and Andrew can talk some sense into him."
Spike snorted. "Drive him round the bend, more like." He sighed. "Buffy, love…I know you don't understand why we're doin' this…"
"Spike, I understand. I just—"
"Don't agree. I get that. Thing is…it's not your place to say, one way or the other."
That stopped her cold. She stared at him, mouth agape.
His voice was gentle. "It's not your fight, Buffy. Not this time. There's nothing you can do here. Best head back. Prepare for what might come. If this thing spreads…gets out of hand…you and the other slayers will have your work cut out for you."
"If I stay here, it might not get to that point," she insisted.
The stubborn glint in her eyes sparked a familiar warmth deep inside him, and he smiled. But as he stroked her cheek, the tiny quiver of tightly compressed lips betrayed her. "You're good, slayer…the best ever. But that's no guarantee it would be enough to turn the tide. You know where your duties lay. Don't need me tellin' you."
She stared at him a few beats more before averting her gaze. "And the miracle is he didn't just haul off and deck me," she murmured.
"Come again?"
Head turning back, she met his puzzled eyes. "Angel. When I told him—" She broke off with the ghost of a pout. "Never mind. It just really sucks to walk a mile in someone else's shoes."
Sighing, she slid free of his embrace to retrieve her clothes from the floor, leaving him suddenly cold and bereft, and for a brief instant he had a bleak idea of what his final moments might be like. Then she turned, and the unreserved love and pride in her gaze filled him with a sense of tremendous warmth.
He stared back. Several moments passed.
Eyes brimming, she nodded. "Yeah…know the feeling." She straightened. "Bathroom?"
He gestured with his head and watched as Buffy vanished through the door. By the time she emerged again, fully dressed, he'd pulled on his jeans and replaced his tattered t-shirt. Finger-combing her hair into place, she crossed the room, walking into his arms without hesitation. His eyes closed as her arms tightened around him and her head came to rest on his chest.
"I don't have to leave yet."
"Yeah, you do. Got to be safe away from here before it all goes down."
She pulled back slightly, looking sternly up at him. "You don't want me to see Angel."
He shrugged. "That, too."
She snorted softly then sighed. "You're really in this."
He nodded. "Really am."
"Our timing sucks."
Instead of answering, he captured her mouth in a deep, soul-searing kiss, pulling her closer as her fingernails dug hard into his shoulders. When he let her up for air, she was gasping, clutching at his shirt as their foreheads touched. Then, with a soft brush of her lips against his, she released her hold. Gaze fixed on him, she stepped back and silently retrieved her duffle bag before disappearing once more into the bathroom.
This time when she emerged, her hair was pulled back in a loose bun and her shiny lip gloss was perfectly applied. He tried to catch her eye, but she avoided his gaze, instead pausing by the chair that served as a makeshift coat rack for his duster. She reached out to caress the soft leather and he had to look down, fighting the urge to sweep her into his arms and hold her tight until they both wasted away. When he looked back, she was already at the door, with one hand resting on the knob as her eyes finally met his.
"You'll call me…when it's over? Let me know you're okay?"
He tilted his head. "Do you one better. I'll come tell you in person." He hesitated. "But just in case it takes me a bit, tell Dawn—"
"Uh-uh. At the risk of sounding like a tired old movie cliché…tell her yourself."
His gaze held hers for what seemed like forever. "Reckon I'll just have to do that, then."
She nodded, smiling faintly. Shifting her grip on the duffel bag, she opened the door and paused, looking back. "You know I love you. Right?"
A terrible, bittersweet joy assailed him. "Right," he acknowledged gravely. "Near as much as I love you."
She shook her head. "More."
Then she was gone.
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TBC in Part 6