Oh,oh,oh, how wonderful!;)
That was my gut reaction.
Very many warm thanks to ReeseAnn (giggle "wuvs her") ;), Scarlet Ibis (lol Clueless, huh? Perhaps, perhaps.) :), kim (lol Very true he can train her better than anyone. And yeah with only the tai chi with Angel. Totally should get a lock and WHAT was that about his brother? 'S far as I know Spike doesn't have a brother!) :), SlaYeRGiRLkaL (heh, nice to read! Here's a bit more!), bloodshedbaby (oh, you like the bitey stff, eh? Heh, wait and see!) :), Courtney (patience, my friend! Very happy you like it, though!) :), MaidenRo (I am a tease, can't help it! And with the not thinking or reflecting… dunno!) ;), MBangel10 (lovely to see you found your way here! That's the worst thing, loosing readers who have been fabulous with supporting the story! But, yay, you're here:) So great to read what you wrote, girl! Glad to see your name up there, seriously!) :) and last but not least Brunettepet (wow, thanks a lot for the praise of the story. Can't describe how amazing it is to read and I'm very grateful to receive it! Thanks a lot!)
To ALL thank you! As always.
A.M.L, Annie.
¤
Nothing
¤
She put on a pair of sweat pants and a top, arranging her hair up in a ponytail before climbing back up into the crypt. He was wearing another one of those tight T's and she pictured his bare chest underneath it, how it had felt under her palm when she had touched it... That moment felt like ages ago now.
"So, what can you do?" he asked.
"You just wanna know 'cause it'll help you kill me later," she said, a teasing glint in her eyes and he smirked. "I don't get why you don't take those vampires' advice and get rid of me now, when you've got the chance. Blaming the chip or the wrath of a dead me doesn't quite cut it anymore..."
"Mostly you're attacked by fledglings," he blatantly swept past that comment and she smiled a little. "They're not the most skilled killers, but they..."
"Can hold their own?"
"This ain't some kind of a joke, Slayer," Spike grumbled. "I'll tell you this once, understand?"
"Sir, yes, sir."
"Buffy."
"Fine, where'd you want me?"
He gestured for her to come and stand before him, which she did. The candles were all blown out, and the only light they had to guide them was the bluish silver falling in through the windows and spread by the moon.
"We'll do it slow at first. I want to see how quick your head is working."
She braced herself and he gradually stretched out an arm, she raised her eyebrows and then couldn't help but giggle. He brought the arm down, looking annoyed.
"Sorry! I'm sorry. Okay, I'm ready," she said.
He glared at her, then repeated the movement, stretching his right arm forward and over her right shoulder, as though about to grab her neck. She countered it with her right hand and then turned around, stepping into him with her back to his chest and getting ready to throw him. His nose breathed in her scent and he pushed her away from him more brutally than he had intended as she stumbled a few steps and then turned back to him.
"Good," he merely said. "Let's continue."
She furrowed her brow, but prepared herself for his approach. He still moved slowly, stepping up to her and then mimicking a blow to her stomach. She grabbed his wrist with one hand, stepping forward and into him, bringing his arm to the side before she placed one hand by the side of his neck, sliding one leg between his.
He cocked an eyebrow and she smirked slightly.
"Now what?" he asked.
She didn't hesitate before she took a pinching grip on his earlobe, having him go down on his knees with a low:
"Oh, ow."
Her smirk broadened as he looked up at her with an expression mirroring hers, then she let him go. He kept his eyes in hers as he stood; her form still close to his. Then she took a slight step back.
He nearly pulled her back again, but it passed as he forced himself to focus on anything other than her. It wasn't the easiest thing to do.
"Let's speed this up, shall we?" he murmured.
"Whatever you say, Obi-Wan."
"Obi-Wan?"
"Whatever you say..." He gave her a look. "...love," she finished with one of those bright smiles.
Without warning he delivered a punch for her chin and one of her hands immediately moved up, grabbing the fist and blocking it. Both of their eyebrows rose.
"Whoa," she said.
"Let's speed this up," he repeated.
He kicked out one leg, aiming for her stomach. She blocked it with one of hers and punched him in the nose. He made a face, then rolled his eyes at her sorrowful expression. And on it went for nearly twenty minutes. They switched turns attacking and blocking, Spike wishing he could get bored by the fact that he couldn't actually hit her, but it didn't take.
Finally she stopped a kick of his and saw an opening, delivering one of her own to his cheek that had him fall to the floor with a loud thump.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees next to him.
"Bloody hell, Slayer, don't apologize!" he growled, and then her hands were softly gripping either side of his face, moving it so she could take a better look at the spot which had taken the hit.
He stared at her as she inspected it, her fingers moving over the place gently.
"Doesn't look too bad," she said, having her eyes in his.
She smiled a little, letting him go carefully and sitting back.
"You for the Bronze?" he asked and her smile quickly widened.
¤
"Gilded Bronze for the lady," Spike said, forty minutes later, standing at the bar of the club. "And I'll have a beer."
"You always drink beer," she remarked.
"Not always," he smiled.
She returned it, looking out over the gathered people and nodding her head to the music.
"Not as big a crowd tonight," she said.
"Sometimes is that way on Tuesdays," he shrugged, handing her her drink and taking his bottle with him as they headed for a table.
"So then you're at Willy's?"
"Not necessarily..."
"Depends on if you've managed to scare up some kittens?"
"Will you ever let that go?"
"Not unless you swear to leave them alone."
"I swear to leave the kittens alone."
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"No, not at all, like carving a hole in my head."
She smiled, taking a mouthful of her drink.
"You know, owning a place like this would be pretty cool," she mused, her eyes going around the room again. "I bet it's a good income and it attracts all the cool clientele... 'Course, I'd set it up someplace else. Morocco, maybe. Or an island somewhere in the Caribbean."
"Any Hellmouths threatening to open over there, 'cause otherwise I can't see you putting little parasols in happy-color drinks, pet," he pointed out and she sighed.
"Wow," she then muttered, "now I know what I'm gonna be when I grow up. How weird. Wood carving as a hobby, my ass."
He smirked at that, taking a swig of his beer.
A waitress came up with a fresh drink for Buffy; as the former put it down on the table she said:
"With compliments from the man at the bar."
Spike looked skyward as Buffy casually turned her head to see a very fine young man raising his glass to her. She smiled, mirroring the gesture as thanks.
"I like the less crowded," she stated. "You have a better view."
Spike gave her a look.
"Please, save it."
"What?" she asked with a smile.
"He buys you a drink and sends it over with compliments? His originality boggles my mind."
She kept the smile on.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Buffy, cheap is something you should never go for, no matter where you are or why you're there."
"And he's cheap? He just bought me an eight dollar drink."
"I just bought you that drink, didn't see you swooning over it," Spike said to that and she eyed him for a moment.
"Straighten this out for me – you're comparing yourself to him or you're saying buying the exact same drink as he did is in fact better just 'cause that drink came from you?"
"I am saying..."
"Want to dance?"
The topic of conversation leaned in over Buffy's shoulder, offering her his hand, and Spike's gaze darkened.
"We're trying to have a bleeding conversation 'ere," he said, but Buffy smiled at the stranger, placing her hand in his and rising.
Walking passed Spike's chair on the way to the dance floor she briefly whispered in his ear:
"You're just jealous."
Spike glared at her back.
I am not sodding jealous, he thought angrily. Specially not of that pip-squeak!
But as he watched the Slayer slowly begin to move to the soft rhythms of the music and grinding closer to the other male he started to have questions flutter through his brain of her actually being attracted to the uglified mortal, of her wanting him to touch her, be that near her. Was she enjoying his scent? Spike thought he could smell the stench of the aftershave even where he sat! Was her heart beating quicker? Was she liking it?
Buffy smiled as she was spun around playfully. However, the spin went only halfway as she came face to face with a now close Spike, a feet parting the two of them as he had just concluded his approach. Her eyes fastened in his and as always she found it virtually impossible to break away from him.
"Sorry, mate," he said to the other male, without taking his gaze from hers, "lady's choice."
She had the hint of a smile on her lips, feeling a need begin to beat its power within her as the glittering desire she held for him easily spread through her. When he took a light hold on one of her wrists, having her step into him, her heart beat elevated and her breath caught.
They began to move to the music, her free arm placing itself around his neck, her forehead to his before his nose slid from her cheekbone and down to her jaw, her eyes closing and one of her hands taking an almost desperate hold on the leather of his duster, clutching it tightly.
She didn't want the moment to end. She couldn't have him snap out of it and look at her with bewilderment... with denial. She had seen it on him every time they'd gotten somewhat close to each other and now she felt like she might rip in half if he did it again.
Then his voice sounded in her ear, husky and low:
"Want to leave?"
Her heart slowed. In fact, everything did as she pulled back to meet his gaze.
She wanted him. So badly it nearly hurt.
She nodded.
"Yeah," she answered.
He seemed to wonder what was happening for just one split second, and then his hand slid into hers, entwining their fingers right before he moved them both off the dance floor and up to the exit. They stepped into the chilled evening air and she stopped, having him do the same as he turned to her. She reached up the hand that wasn't holding his and touched his cheek, her eyes suddenly catching movement down the street.
She looked over and squinted, then her eyes grew as she made out a girl being dragged away by two larger figures and she let Spike's hand go, beginning to run.
She brought her stake out, the two vampires turning at the sound of her pounding feet and they dropped their unconscious victim to the ground as the Slayer attacked, kicking one in the stomach and then sweeping the legs out from under the other. The first one moved forward and she ducked skillfully, kicking it in the chin and sending it flying before she crouched together and then delivered another kick to the second vampire as it was back on its feet. It tumbled back down and she was on it in an instant, sinking her stake into its chest before throwing the weapon straight into the heart of the first vampire, the two assailants combusting simultaneously.
Spike was awestruck. The poetry of her movements; how easily, gracefully she delivered every blow, was something that had to be admired. The strength which rested within her petite form was never to be overlooked. He had seen it before – but wondered if he had ever actually allowed himself the quiet pleasure of truly acknowledging it.
No, he hadn't.
The sudden power on her was drifting at him through the air. And there was no selfishness that had triggered this, it was the mere act of the slay, and the saving of that girl on the pavement. The heritage of the Slayer. The truth of goodness...
Bloody hell, he growled in his head, but something else could do nothing but stare at her.
This girl could accomplish this. Could step outside herself and become a warrior. There was an aura around her in that moment, of perfect peace.
He approached her cautiously. She was still on the ground, but as he got closer she stood, brushing the ashes off. And then she turned to him; her face beaming.
"Did you see that!" she exclaimed. "I rocked! I did it! It was like before: I didn't even have to think about it, but this time it was just... there! It was incredible. I wish I could share this high with you, it's totally outrageous! Wow!"
She was around his neck the following moment, hugging him tight and jumping up and down. He smirked as she let him go, turning to the girl who was just sitting up, disoriented.
"It's okay now," Buffy said, walking up to her and helping her to her feet. "How do you feel?"
"A little woozy," the girl mumbled.
"Go home and get some rest. It'll all be fine in the morning and don't go with strange men at night, let this be a lesson!" she reprimanded and the girl smiled weakly before seemingly following the first part of the advice.
Buffy watched her go.
"Ah, yes, the Slayer's work is never done," she said in a dramatic tone. Then she began jumping up and down again. "God, I feel like running around in circles 'till I can't stand anymore," she said.
Spike merely smiled at that, beginning to walk and Buffy followed him, bouncing around him making zig-zag patters across the street. He looked at her, thoughtful. It was all so problematic, wasn't it? And he didn't approve of this new sensation in his chest, this disgraceful and sudden understanding... of her. For the very first time he thought himself have actually seen what the slayer was.
It must be that I've spent so much time with her, he thought. Too much time. I've seen the Slayer kill dozens of vampires before, and every time it merely ticked me off. Why the bugger would this be any different if it wasn't for the fact that...
That what? That he was seeing a recap? The early years – uncensored? That he was witnessing with his own eyes what the experience had been like for her. That he could nearly taste the absolute power on her, and that he could sense the light it held. But it also held darkness... Perhaps that was what attracted him to her. Because he sure as hell was attracted to her.
She's just a child, he thought ruefully.
Suddenly she jumped up on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and he merely reacted as he hooked his arms under her knees.
"I feel so alive right now," she stated. "Like nothing can stop me."
They arrived outside the crypt and he set her down before continuing inside. She followed, having calmed down slightly.
"You know, I never said thanks," she said, "for the sparring before."
"Don't mention it," he replied, fixing her with a look as he added: "Ever."
She smiled self-consciously, suddenly dreadfully aware of where they had left off before.
Oh, God, why did I have to run off like that? she whined in her head. Saved a life. Saved a life, she then chose as a mantra.
"Spike..." she began, only he moved up to the ladder.
"I'm going to bed," he said, descending.
"Sure," she agreed. "You enjoy that now, while I crawl under the couch and die."
"Did you say something?" he asked, sticking his head back up.
"No," she smiled. "Nothing special." He disappeared. "Only that I wanna crawl under the couch and die," she hissed, hiding her face in her hands.
Finally she dragged herself over to the loveseat and lay down on it. It wasn't late, but she felt exhausted. She closed her eyes and slowly drifted off.
Spike lay in bed trying to go to sleep, but unable to as he was waiting – for her. He lost his patience after fifteen minutes and kicked the covers off with a growl, still in his jeans he headed upstairs. Glaring around the room he stalked up to the loveseat and paused, having the oddest sensation of warmth in his chest as he looked down at her.
Dammit, he thought, but couldn't stop himself from sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to watch her soft features.
His eyes went to her hand, resting right by her nose, and he moved his arm to let his fingertips softly grace her palm before he let his own meet it. Linking their fingers together he brought her hand away from her face, a slight smile playing on his mouth. He reached out his free hand and gently stroked her blonde locks to lie behind her shoulder.
I can't, he then thought, letting her hand go and standing abruptly. I can't!
He was about to walk back downstairs when his gaze caught on her and he hesitated, then made up his mind. Lifting her up in his arms he held her tight as he carried her down the ladder, placing her on the bed and pulling the covers up he eyed her for a few more moments before turning, going back upstairs to take her place on the loveseat.
¤
She woke at noon. It took only a few seconds for her to be wide awake once she realized where she was, since she couldn't remember how she got there. Looking under the covers she saw that she was still very much dressed, and she furrowed her brow quizzically. Turning her head to the side she noted Spike's absence and she brought the covers aside, rising and stretching and walking up to the ladder.
Climbing it she yawned, stepping up into the crypt and immediately seeing his feet sticking out over one of the armrests of the loveseat. She felt herself melt at the mere insinuation of what he must have done last night and she smiled as she approached the place of rest. She walked around and kneeled next to him. He was on his stomach, his face turned to her and she reached up a hand, stroking his hair tenderly. Then she straightened up into a standing position, kissed him gingerly where she had just stroked him, and fetched her pocketbook. Checking how much money she had left she decided on breakfast; heading out she closed the door quietly behind her.
¤
He was dreaming of fried eggs and toast and the scents followed him out of the dream as he opened his eyes, blinking sleep out of them before sitting up. His gaze landed on Buffy, who was partially out of sight in the so-called kitchen. She was dancing – to music. He frowned. Where was it coming from? Then he saw the small radio placed on one of the sarcophagus. She leaned back to get a better view of where he was seated and noticed that he was awake.
"Afternoon!" she greeted with a smile, flipping one of the eggs onto a plate and grabbing the mug filled with blood she had prepared.
"What time is it?"
"Sometime in the afternoon," she shrugged. "Last I checked it was ten minutes passed two and I was on my way back with this beauty," she added with a nod to the radio. "Someone had just thrown her out on the street, poor thing. Imagine that."
"Yes, imagine that," he said. "And who was it again that said picking stuff up off the street was something of an offense?"
"That chair's still here, innit?" she countered, handing him the mug and coming around to sit next to him, grabbing the fork she had brought for herself and digging in on the eggs.
He drank his blood in silence, finishing half of it and putting the mug down on the coffee table; facing her as she was just putting the plate down as well, but as he opened his mouth to speak she suddenly jumped to her feet.
"You won't believe what else I got," she said, walking up to a corner of the crypt and making something, which had been rolled up and leaned against the wall, fall over with a thud.
He squinted, then rose as well, coming up to where she was kneeling, untying the thick string tied around – what he now concluded – was a rug. She got the knot open and rolled it out. He stared at it.
"You got...?"
"Oriental as they get, baby," she smirked, standing. "Or at least for being made in Kentucky. And there's three more of them. I think they'll go nicely downstairs. Make the floor less cold when you wake up, you know."
"When you wake up, you mean," he remarked and she met his gaze with a small smile. "Buffy..."
"Well, who am I to decorate this place without your full consent?" she interrupted. "I can let the curtains go, that's fine. But you live here and you need to have stuff that makes it feel like your home. I saw a few chests that I think might be good for keeping weapons in and... clothes or whatever you want. The guy selling them is leaving for New York and he doesn't want them with him so he's willing to take less than nothing for them..."
"Buffy."
"Yes?"
"I can just go take them."
"No," she disagreed. "You can't. He needs the money."
"Then I have money. Don't spend more of yours on me... 's not... right," he murmured, looking away from her and turning, walking back up to the loveseat.
She watched him go, then followed, taking her plate and looking at the blood left in his mug.
"You're not hungry?"
"It's too early," he muttered.
"So go down and go to sleep," she said, heading into the kitchen. "I'm fine. I got some magazines and I was thinking about taking a better look at the town. I feel like I've only seen it at night."
She put the plate and the mug aside, leaning against the counter for a moment catching her breath before she put on another smile and headed back into the room. She couldn't get her nerves to act the way she wanted them to. Every time he looked at her she had a feeling of falling backwards come over her. She couldn't stop the dizziness or the subtle ache which produced it. And she didn't want him to go to sleep. And she didn't want to leave the crypt again.
He looked at her as she took her previous seat, folding her legs under her and meeting his gaze calmly. Why was she so calm? He couldn't get the image of her last night out of his head; for once he found himself speechless, the words pressing somewhere in the back of his throat, but his mind too entangled in her to be able to sort them out.
He wanted to go downstairs, fall asleep, and wake up with her gone. And really gone, this time. Her old self back to kick his ass if he so much as glanced at her the wrong way. That was clearer, simpler, easier to respond to than this.
"Why do you?" he asked silently and she looked questioning so he elaborated with: "You said you didn't know why you bothered... What is it that makes you bother with me?"
She didn't answer for a short while, eyeing him with a gaze that was gentle before she said:
"There's good parts to us, and there's bad parts. I've grown up with the bad parts... My parents fighting... " She smiled, though it was sad, and then continued: "But then there's been the good parts too... My mom and I have always been close, and I've always felt like I could tell her anything; even when she's been arguing about me with my dad. I was barely surprised that he isn't here, you know? We talked about it, her and me... but it's like I told her, I never felt like it was my fault because neither of them let me.
"They made me realize pretty early on that there are different sides to everyone. Really different. I think it's helped me a lot, when I make friends and stuff. I try not to get stuck on the cover. Like with you... The cover was..." He cocked an eyebrow and she smiled again, this time warmly. "... neat," she finished the sentence and he smirked. "But I had to see what was... under it."
His smirk widened and she beat back the blushing sensation on her cheeks with a laugh.
"You have this warped image of yourself," she said. "And believe me, I'm a pretty good judge of character. You act like you don't have a choice in who you are, but you do. I know there's a demon in there, and it's fierce and argh and makes with the blood; but there's also a remaining human being, Spike. You may not think so, but I've seen him. I've seen you. ...That's why I bother."
He shook his head at her.
"That's... the dumbest thing I've ever heard," he stated.
"Of course it is," she said.
He was taken aback with her frankness, with her misled opinion of him. How could she say that? How the bleeding hell could she!
"Moving on," she said: "Why can't you wear something of the things I bought you? I know you like red 'cause you have some of that already, and the sweaters would..."
"Don't," he murmured and she blinked. "Don't try to change me. You think all you bleeding well have to do is bat your eyes at me? Doesn't work that way, pet. So, don't."
"I wasn't," she replied softly. "I like you the way you are," she assured, suddenly sliding over to him and before she could even think or react to what she was doing, she gently straddled him. This was what she had been waiting for ever since she woke up that morning, she realized that. An opening to be close to him. She rested her eyes in his as she continued her previous statement with: "Bleached." A mischievous smile finding a momentary home on her lips as she buried her fingers in his hair, adding: "'Cause it does make you stand out in a much too dull crowd." His hands slipped up her jeans-covered thighs and for a second she couldn't breathe, but then she went on: "Scarred," sliding one hand to his eyebrow and gently tracing the markings there, before pulling her head back slightly meeting his gaze.
Her heart was beating so fast, her thoughts were a faraway blur, all she could focus on was the moment. He could push her away, she thought; but she wouldn't withdraw. She brushed the tip of her nose with his before she slowly moved her mouth to his. She paused, then let her lips meet his carefully.
He parted his slightly and she kissed him softly on first the upper, then the lower, before deepening the kiss. His hands had moved to her back and his grip on her hardened, his tongue meeting hers. The kiss was languid, her breathing slowing with growing arousal. She moaned quietly and he felt how the desire he had somehow kept at bay began to lick its flames through him, making him take a hold on her arms and pull her away from him.
He glared up at her; her gaze surprised and nearly pleading.
Then his mouth caught hers again and he understood that reason was no more an issue. Nothing was, nothing mattered. Nothing apart from her.
Buffy had never been kissed like that before. So that every movement he made sent pleasurable shivers through her whole body. He took hold of the hems of the top she was in and brought it over her head, her hands in his hair again as his mouth found her breast. She gasped silently. His tongue trailed up to her throat, to her ear, to her mouth and she met it with her own, the kiss still slow and deep. His thumbs teased her already erect nipples and she groaned right before he slid them together to the floor, placing her on one of the cushions and propping himself up on his hands, looking down at her.
She touched his cheek and then trailed her hand down his chest, her eyes not leaving his. She unbuttoned his jeans with deliberate movements and he smiled a small smile before kissing her cheek, continuing down to the side of her throat before pulling back to take off the pants. She swallowed, tingling all over, not really used to the explosiveness of this craving that told her to touch him, touch him, touch him!
She sat up as he got the pants off and her arms were around his neck, her lips kissing his shoulder, his jaw line and then he kissed her, tilting her back again. Their tongues were getting rougher now, his hands going to the button in her jeans and getting it open in a second, taking his mouth from hers to trail it down between her breasts, past her bellybutton and farther. Her eyes widened as her pants were done away with and she drew a sharp breath as his tongue found her clit, arching her back she grabbed the cushion, gasping and writhing from the unexpected sensation coursing through her.
When she thought her body was about to fall apart he moved up, entering her, and she moaned loudly. His lips were at her throat, her hands once more in his hair as she held onto him, meeting his thrusts as easily as if she had never done anything else.
She climaxed, but he kept moving within her, producing wave after wave of untamed ecstasy before he followed the same path, her mouth finding his and she kissed him fervently.
She was still breathing hard when they ended the kiss, her eyes were closed as he gently pulled out of her, and then she looked at him. He stared back at her, still in a daze as well, but distantly aware that he had just crossed a line he could never step back over.
Then she wrapped her arms around him, cuddling close to him, and he felt the most alarming tranquility settle over him. When she met his gaze he smiled, and she returned it. Then she kissed him, and he kissed her back, and the world was them.
Nothing more.