Spike tucks himself back into his jeans, picking his duster up off the floor as she runs to the doorway of the training room.
"Hi! Xand... hi." She's blocking the entrance, her breath still out of sync. Voice still breathy.
"Everything all right?" Xander takes in her disheveled hair, her slightly off-centre clothes. Maybe they made up? But the red rims to her eyes tells him otherwise. Shouldn't of left her. What was I thinking...
Buffy swallows.
"Yeah. It's fine."
"Riley?"
"Huh?"
"He still-?" He motions behind her.
"Oh... no uh. He left." Her voice cracks and she coughs trying to get the croak out of her throat.
"Left?"
"Left left. Gone left."
"Buffy... I-"
"I don't want to talk about it right now, Xand." Or maybe ever. Would be too much to ask that he slips from everyone's memory immediately.
Xander nods, swallowing the words he was going to say.
"Look, me and Anya and Will are heading to the bronze. You coming?"
"Um..." She blinks, not sure what direction to take.
There's a soft click behind her of the alleyway door closing, making the decision for her, but Xander doesn't seem to notice it. She glances back into the empty training room.
"Come on Buff, I'll even aid in sorrow drowning, first round's on me yeah? Tall frosty glass of forget coming your way?"
"Uh... Ok. Sure. Why not."
"Atta girl. Things get roudy I might even spring for the pretzels."
She chuckles, unable to stop herself relaxing a little.
The Bronze is busy, crowds of patrons swarming the floor and the bar. Xander and Buffy push their way through until they spot Willow and Anya perched at a table.
Willow sees Buffy and waves frantically.
"HEY! Buffy, Hey. Hi. Help me get drinks. Lots and lots of drinks." She drags Buffy off by the arm towards the bar. "Save me, Anya keeps talking about her and Xander's sexcapades and I think I'm gonna hurl. As if I wasn't gay enough..." she shivers. Buffy smirks, casting an eye back towards Anya, who's interest in everyone else has entirely melted away, eyes clearly seeing only Xander.
She swallows. Dwelling on the way Spike's eyes do the same thing. Hyper-focussing on her. Stealing her breath...
Snap out of it.
"Where is Tara tonight anyways?"
"She's got a final tomorrow. Deep in the books."
"She kick you out for hogging the covers? The... book covers?"
"Uh huh." Willow glances over to their table, rolling her eyes as Xander sticks his tongue in Anya's mouth. "Ugh. Think she'd take me back if I grovel?"
They fetch a pitcher of beer and four cups and head back, settling on the bar stools.
"Anyway, where's Riley tonigh-"
"ZZzzt-" Willow's cut short by Xander's manic throat-cutting gesture.
"We're not mentioning the Riley tonight." He interjects.
"Why, what happened?"
"ZZT!"
"It's Ok Xander." Buffy soothes. "Uh.. we... we broke up. Rather definitively."
"Oh Riley's gone?" Anya pipes up. "I didn't like him. He was very demon judgemental. And he always smelled of soap-"
"Anya-" Xander tries to stop her.
"Riley's gone?" Willow looks heartbroken by proxy, "Oh Buffy. I'm sorry, I-"
"It's fine. I don't want to talk about it."
"You'll get over it quickly, I'm sure. He was all righteous. And bossy. Righteous, bossy men are bad news. Trust me, I set fire to thousands of them." Says Anya, taking a sip of her beer.
"Anya! ...And speaking of bad news." Xander motions over to the bar.
Buffy catches a glimpse of Spike, pulling a cigarette out of a fresh packet with his teeth before lighting it, beer bottle in hand. He doesn't look over, leaning against the bar, casually watching the crowd. His gaze roams lazily, and the cut of his figure tightens a knot in Buffy's stomach. The way he's holding the cigarette between index and middle finger, slightly curved makes her shiver, violently remembering earlier. What he could do with those fingers. She presses her legs together underneath the table.
"Buffy?" Xander interjects her train of thought and she jumps, nearly spilling her untouched beer, suddenly deeply thankful for the Bronze's low lighting. She can feel the heat in her cheeks spreading downwards uncomfortably.
"Uh, sorry, what did you say Xander?"
"I said you wanna join us on the dance floor? Shake off some of those Buffy blues?"
"Oh, uh. No I think I'll just... guard the table. You guys go."
"Come on Buff, we cant leave you here all on your lonesome?"
"No really, I'm not very dance happy."
"I'll stay." Says Willow, smiling resolutely.
"No, you go. I'm feeling all... inner reflection with beer. I might head home soon anyway. Check in on mom and Dawn."
Xander nods, giving Buffy's shoulder a squeeze before being dragged away by Anya. Willow doesn't move immediately, looking at Buffy with fresh eyes of concern.
"You sure you won't come join us for a little shimmy? Might make you feel... well maybe not better, but certainly sweatier? I've heard top notch things about this new thing they call endorphins? Maybe we could get you some of those?"
Buffy chuckles.
"I'm fine really. I'll table guard, find me after you've shimmied."
Willow nods, smiling a consoling smile before slipping off her seat following Xander and Anya into the crowd. Buffy relaxes a little, exhausted from putting on a brave face. Strung out on the whole evening. The whole day.
The whole week.
...The whole life.
She glances over to where Spike is leaning and gets an electric shock as she realises he's staring at her. His cigarette has burnt down to the stub. He grinds it out, eyes leaving hers only for a second.
He raises his eyes pointedly to the back of the club, deeper in the shadows, where only a few couples are dancing together, locked around each other. Some swaying. Most lost in each others eyes. Buffy's skin prickles but she slips off her seat.
She makes her way through the crowd. She can sense his eyes on her back, feel him just behind her as she makes her way underneath the stairs.
His hand catches hers and she jumps, the breath in her throat catching as shE turns to face him. He doesn't say anything, pushing against her. His hand travels up her back and grazes a nerve making her lurch upwards into him, and he catches her lips in his. Cool but soft, pulling her in closer. She slips her tongue against his, tasting his cigarettes, and a sweeter hotter taste underneath. Warm and sort of peppery. The taste of him. He groans, pushing her back further under the stair well.
Her hands are fluttering around his shoulders, not resting in one place and he grips her a little harder, trying to push her to grasping him back.
Put your hands on me. Want you... under my coat, want those warm hands at my back.
He pulls her hands down from his shoulders, pushing them under his coat, around his waist and she hugs him tighter.
"Come back with me." He whispers between her lips, his leg pushing against hers, grinding his hip against hers. She shakes her head.
"Need to check on mom and Dawn."
"They're fine. Safe as houses, luv. Come back with me." His lips dip to her neck, tasting her, biting her softly up towards her earlobe. She gasps as his hands slip into her hair holding her head against his mouth. Her nails dig into his back suddenly as he growls, pushing harder, wanting more of her.
"I can't wait any longer Buffy."
Buffy freezes. Riley's pushing his way through the crowd, eyes searching. Clearly looking for her. He spots Xander, Willow and Anya who've returned to the table. Heads in their direction.
"Spike-"
Spike tears his head away from her neck, brows creased in confusion at the sudden sound of panic in her voice, then spots him too. He rolls his eyes, jaw clenched as he bites his lip. Stepping back away from her.
Thought we got rid of that wanker...
He sighs. Rubs his chest, reliving earlier, wondering if he's had a chance to swap his plastic toy for a wooden one, fingers trying to loosen the tension there after having to let her go.
"What's wrong with your chest?" Buffy says eyeing his fingers, and he pulls them down, shoving them into his coat pocket.
"Nothing."
Riley moves passed them, and Buffy's eyes glaze over in anger. Spike sighs.
"Tomorrow? Come by?"
Buffy blinks, checking Riley's still headed in the direction of Willow and Xander. She nods.
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
He nods, taking a last lingering look and disappearing into the crowd.
Buffy waits, watching Riley from the back. Approaching their table. Seemingly asking if they've seen her. She can see Willow and Xander shaking their heads. Anya looks like she's about to say something when Xander clamps a hand over her thigh and she yelps.
Riley casts another look around the crowd. Checks his watch.
Transport's leaving tonight.
I'm not going to stop him. Something inside her settles. Making a choice. Choosing not to run after him. The pained look on his face does nothing to her, no pity rises to the surface. No sudden pang of regret or remorse.
He says some final thing to Xander, nodding his head before slipping out the back door. Gone.
Buffy releases her shoulders. Exhausted. She waits a few minutes longer in the alcove of the stairs before heading back to the table.
"Buffy!" Willow exclaims, "you just missed Riley. He was- he went out the back you could still catch him if you-"
"I know. I'm good here." She downs her beer taking a breath. "Nowhere I'd rather be."
"You sure Buff?" Xander asks.
She nods, thumping her cup down.
"More refreshments please." Xander fills her cup again and she glances to the bar.
Spike is nowhere in sight.
Can I wait until tomorrow? She swallows. Every nerve in her body is strung out like piano wire. Need to catch my breath. This whole day has been infinitely too much.
The beer seeps into her system, easing her tension by degrees. Xander cracks a joke and she laughs, Willow gets talking about college, and then Tara, and then magic with Tara, Xander cracks another joke and Anya says something blunt and the evening winds on a little at a time, normality shrugging itself back into place.
Just going to be here for now.
She relaxes. Breathing out. Smiling a little.
The TV is off when she gets in, just gone passed midnight. There's a fresh glass of water on the coffee table, and Buffy notes how neatly Joyce and Dawn have been tucked in underneath a blanket. She closes the front door as quietly as she can shrugging out of her coat and hanging it up when she spots it.
A thick leather duster hanging over the banister.
There's not a sound from upstairs but her skin prickles, goosebumps raising up her arms.
She swallows, picks the coat up, starting up the stairs.
Her bedroom door is closed. Buffy realises she's kneading the leather underneath her hands.
He's in there waiting for me. Broke in, tucked mom and Dawn in, and now is in my bedroom.
Still can't get my head round him.
Inside he's leaning against her bedside table, a darker outline of black and white in the shadows, backlit by the window.
"... Couldn't wait for tomorrow?" Buffy raises an eyebrow, as he moves closer out of the shadows.
"It is tomorrow. M'through waiting." He mumbles. His hands are by his side curled into tight fists, and she can see he's nearly shivering, ready to burst. "Bloody well through waiting."
He can hear her heart beating like a deafening drum. Could hear it as soon as she was in the house. It's like his vision has gone completely, leaving just a shadowy strangling impression of her heat.
His hand reaches out, lightly gripping a wrist feeling the pulse hammering underneath. It makes him swoon, legs feel like they're buckling. The warmth of her burning his fingers. So close.
"Don't I get a choice in the matter?" Buffy raises an eyebrow.
He can smell her scent, the sweet scent of her skin. The fresh lemony smell of the shampoo she uses. Traces of alcohol still on her tongue. He swallows hard.
His fangs are itching to move down. Fingers aching from holding back. All his muscles are straining not to crash against her.
Want to be in her. Tongue, teeth, fingers, cock. In her. Inside. In her mouth. Everywhere. One more second without it all and I'll go mad.
"You get a choice, luv..." he moves in until he's only millimeters apart from her, still only touching by the wrist, but her breathing is already changing, deepening. "Bed or floor?"
She shoves him hard, smirking, and he grabs both wrists in his hand pinning them above her head against the door.
"You're a pig." The heat is already rising off her. Tell tale signs of arousal spilling out of her. Pupils dilating, lips parting. The pulse under his hands throbbing.
He pulls one of her wrists off the door, kissing the palm.
"Got interrupted last time. Want me to start over?" His teeth grip the mound of her thumb, lips dancing over each digit, sometimes sucking, sometimes biting. Buffy's eyes flicker shut, shivering at the overwhelming burn spreading up from between her legs.
Spike leans in, releasing her wrist from his hand so he can wrap round the back of her, pushing her up into him. One hand on her back and one still pinning her other wrist to the door, like a stationary waltz, and his mouth crashes over hers, teeth biting her lip.
Each kiss emits a sweet mewling sound from Buffy making him feel dizzy and he pushes against her harder. His hand leaves her hand and slides down her waist, down to the front of her red leatherette pants, pulling the zipper down and slipping a hand underneath.
"Make a choice."
Buffy's breathing is gasping, hot air in his ear, hot skin underneath his hands. He slips his fingers down further underneath the edge of her underwear, carefully prying her lips apart, dipping a finger into the flood inside her before gently bringing it back up, slipping down, spreading her open more. There's a vibrating in her legs from the effort not to grind down on him and as he slips two fingers inside she jolts, banging her head against the door with a soft thump.
"Oh God... Spike..."
"Make a choice."
She swallows. His thumb is kneading her clit in hard little circles in time with his fingers dipping in and out of her.
"The... Bed squeaks." His thumb exudes a sudden jolt of pressure and she stifles a scream.
"So do you." He grins.
He drags her off the door, pulling his hand out of her pants so he can unlatch the bra under her shirt. Her hands are on his waist, moving the bottom of his shirt up and over his head, pulling it off him roughly before her lips crash into his, her tongue dancing in his mouth...