Hey, BTVS Fam! You guys know the drill - I don't own anything here. I'm just having some fun with Joss's characters. Enjoy!
Spike picked the dusty punching bag off of the basement floor and hung it back on the hook from where it flew off during his assault against it. For the fifth time.
That bitch, he thought again, except this time he wasn't sure if the thought was still directed at Buffy, at Angel, or himself.
Watching the two of them suck face like it was the end of the world, though he supposed that was true, hurt. He was still getting used to all the emotions that were once dulled against his soulless conscience. Before he had won it back, he still felt emotions - Especially those born of pain, but it was like he was numb to them. Now there were so many emotions and they were overwhelming him as he tried to sort through them all. It had been so long since he had a soul that it was like he was a child again, learning how and control his what he was feeling.
Unfortunately for him, the woman he had fallen madly in love with spurred within him every emotion there ever was and probably some new ones to boot.
An especially hard punch to the bag sent it flying across the room again as he replayed Angel showing up this evening in the crypt where Buffy had been fighting that wanker henchman of The First. He was there and then they were kissing, Spike completely forgotten as he stood in the shadows.
Spike pinched the bridge of his nose and took an intentional steadying breath before retrieving the bag for the sixth time. Just as he had returned it to its hook, he realized it was missing something.
Scanning the basement, he went to the work station Xander had setup for the numerous repairs he had been making to the Summers residence. After rifling around the different cubbies, he found everything he needed and got to work.
He stood back, admiring his masterpiece now taped to the face of the punching bag. A portrait of Angel, complete with vertical hair and all.
"That's more like it." He said with bitter cheerfulness and landed a hit right on Angel's large forehead, leaving the bag rocking wildly and a smug smile on his face. Reeling his arm back for another attack, he paused hearing the door to the basement open and close followed by light footsteps.
Buffy leaned against the wooden railing, taking in the scene before her. Spike's disheveled hair, hard jaw line, tight fists, and the still swaying bag. Her eyebrows shot up and she blinked at him, trying to figure out what had set him so on edge.
Spike couldn't help but look at her and be amazed by her beauty, even though she had just gotten finished with a brutal fight not two hours ago. The urge to go to her and touch her mixed with the hurt and frustration of seeing her and that ponce back together caused his snark to make an appearance first.
"So, where's tall, dark, and forehead?" He asked, not bothering to soften his tone.
"Let me guess," She said, rolling her eyes and making her way down the rest of the stairs until she stood in front of him, "You can smell him?"
"Yeah, that and I also used my enhanced vampire eyeballs to watch you kissing him."
Buffy's eyes widened at his underlying admission of watching her with Angel. No wonder he was on edge. Angel was never his favorite and now... Well, things were even more complicated with him now, if that were even possible.
"It was a hello." She stated calmly.
Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Most people don't use their tongues to say hello." He narrowed his brows at the realization of what he just said and quickly began to backtrack, "Or, I guess they do, but -"
Thankfully, she interrupted him, "There were no tongues," She said, waving her hands in front of her. "Besides, he's gone."
She sent Angel on his way? Spike tilted his head at the thought, but quickly recovered.
"Oh, just popped by for a quickie then?" He quipped, turning from her. He knew he was being an ass, but he was having a difficult time sorting through everything. That meant any hurt he was feeling was showing itself in the guise of snark and sarcasm.
"Good," Buffy huffed, "I haven't had enough jealous vampire crap for one night."
"He wears lifts, you know." Spike lamely threw over his shoulder.
Buffy crossed her arms and shook her head, catching Spike's artwork of Angel, now crinkled from where he had hit it.
She shook her head again at the silliness of it. "One of these days I'm gonna put you two in a room and let you wrestle it out."
"No problem at this end." He cut in, turning back around to face her.
"Oh! There could be oil of some kind involved!" She mused out loud, as if she didn't hear him.
Now it was him shaking his head at her. He would always wonder what went on in that brain of hers.
"Where's the trinket?" He asked, deciding to change the subject. Angel had gotten enough attention that night.
"The who-ket?" She asked, though she knew exactly what he was talking about.
Spike rolled his eyes, exasperated.
"The necklace your sweetie gave you. The one with all the power. I believe it's mine now." He answered her, holding his hand out.
She didn't even glance at his open hand, but continued to look into his eyes. "How do you figure?"
"Someone with a soul, but more than human? Angel meant to wear it. That means I'm the qualified party."
"It's volatile. We don't know -"
He cut her off, "You need someone strong to bear it then."
When she didn't so much as blink, he pressed on, "You were planning on giving it to Andrew?" The exasperation in his voice gave way to full sarcasm, "Angel said the amulet was meant to be worn by a champion."
He jerked his still open hand toward her, prompting her to hand the necklace over, but she just continued to stare at him.
Spike let his arm drop back to his side, readying himself for her to tell him that she would never give something so powerful to him, that he couldn't handle it, that he was far from a champion.
Instead, she grabbed his hand and pressed the amulet into his palm, her fingers closing over his.
He stared at their hands. "Been called a lot of things in my time..." He whispered more to himself than to her.
The rest of the thick, golden chain slid from her hand and into his as she stepped back. Her warmth still lingered on the metal and it took everything he had not to bring it to his cheek and imagine her touching him there.
She believed in him.
The realization made him snap his head up to meet her eyes and she smiled softly at him.
"Faith still has my room." She said, her gaze bouncing to the floor before meeting his again.
All of his emotions were ricocheting around in him, so his response tumbled out of his mouth before he had time to properly think it through.
"Well, you're not staying here. You can't buy me off with shiny beads and sweet talk. You got Angel breath," He said pointedly. "I'm not going to to let you whack me back and fourth like a rubber ball. I've got my pride, you know."
They stared at each other for a moment, both of them in shock. He half expected her to fight him on his answer and insist that it was her house, she could stay where she wanted or that he owed her since she gave him the amulet.
Instead, her features dropped slightly though she was calm when she said, "I understand," turning towards the staircase.
Do something do something do something!! Ran through his brain as more unprepared words fell from his tongue, "Clearly you don't because the whole "having my pride" thing was just a smokescreen."
Buffy turned back to face him and chuckled lightly. "Oh, thank God."
Her laugh, whether chuckle, giggle, or from deep in her belly was one of his favorite sounds in the world. He found himself smiling softly at her, his earlier hurt and frustration mostly forgotten.
"I don't know what I would have done if you'd have gone up those stairs." He told her gently.
She took a step closer to him and reached out, caressing his cheek with her hand. It was exactly what he had been wanting just a few minutes ago, to feel her warmth against him. The feeling was so soothing that he unconsciously closed his eyes and turned his face to nuzzle her palm, not catching that she had stepped even closer until her lips were brushing against his.
He responded immediately, by pressing his chilled lips more firmly against hers. She tasted sweet, as she always did, and smelled like the warm California air mixed lightly with coconut, but underneath it all he could still smell Angel's scent lingering on her skin. It brought his demon's possessiveness front and center, sending his hands to clamp down around her waist like magnets before leaving her lips to trail kisses over her jaw and down her neck, replacing his grandsire's scent with his own.
Mine mine mine, he thought, now sliding his hands to the back of her thighs with her humming appreciatively as he did so. His hands guided her legs around his waist and he spun her, backing her until she sat on the workstation's top.
They continued like that for what felt like years and mere seconds at the same time. Ironically enough, it was her hands sliding under his shirt that tugged him back to reality.
He gently grabbed her wrists before they slid up his body any further and made him forget his reasoning.
"Buffy... luv." He spoke gently, leaning his forehead against her own.
"Right. Probably not a good time." She agreed breathily. He probably would have been gasping for air himself, were he still human.
"Bloody hell, you know I want you. But the world is ending and I don't want this to just be a final hoo-rah."
"What do you want it to be?" She surprised him by asking.
Well, he already told her she was the one and she knew she was the motivation behind his deadly fight for his soul. No point in holding anything back now.
"I want it to be mutual. Not one of us dominating the other. Not because we're trying to escape one thing or because we're obsessing after another. Not because it may be our last bloody night alive and there's nothing left for us to do. I want it to be you and me, looking at each other with nothing but love in our eyes and in our hearts..." A resigned laugh left him. It seemed his inner poet still existed after all. Love's bitch, indeed.
"I want it to be intentional. I want it to mean something, because you mean something to me and I don't think I would survive if we just picked back up where we left off. I'm not that man anymore, Buffy. So if that means I have to wait one year or twenty... or more even, then that's what I'll do."
Her bright green eyes bore into his. Their faces were just a breath apart and it was taking all of his control to not lean back down to her lips.
"Spike..."
He braced himself then, for the rejection that he felt was bound to come sooner or later. She had already shocked him tonight by showing she had faith in him, but asking this of her... to love him... it was crossing the line.
"I'm just scared."
Spike pulled his head back to get a better look at her. He was going to have to stop keeping count of the surprises of this evening.
Buffy must have taken his silence as a cue to elaborate so she continued, "Every time I put my heart on the line... it's never good. Angel. Riley. Giles. My parents. My friends. Everyone has either left me or pushed me away at some point and... I think I've forgotten how to love someone the way you're asking me too. I can lead and I can fight, but I can't love."
"Rubbish." He said simply.
"What?" She asked, her eyebrows knitting together.
"You lead and you fight because you love. I've seen it. I meant what I told you the other night when I said I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. I've hurt people. I've killed people. I've been left, rejected, and discarded. But all this time, I never forgot how to love so I know you haven't either."
Now she was the one who was silent. He could see the battle waging through her eyes and more than anything, he just wanted to show her how good he could be for her now. Whether or not she would give him that chance was completely up to her.
"I want those things too."
Spike tilted his head in wonder, his mouth parting as disbelief and joy surged through him.
Though all he could manage was, "What?"
"The mutual thing. The looking at each other... and our hearts... I want that too." She said, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
He didn't bother with words this time. He lifted her off the top of the workstation and spun her around as she let out a girly squeal and he laughed in ecstasy.
Though he put her feet back on the floor, he held her close. His emotions were overwhelming him again and all he could think to say was a whispered, "I'm so happy."
Buffy's soft smile returned briefly before fading as she spoke, "Let's just hope we survive this thing."
He put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back to look her in the eye.
"I know you will. And it's in my best interest to do so myself, but if I don't, know that I will leave this world the happiest man ever to walk it."
Then he pulled her back into an embrace, never wanting to let go. Minutes passed before she spoke again.
"Do you hear that?"
"I don't hear a thing, surprisingly." He answered, looking pointedly at the ceiling where a dozen little slayers were on the other side.
"Exactly." She said, amusement coloring her voice.
Buffy took his hand and led him to where his cot was against the wall. He quickly kicked off his shoes and slid under the blanket, extending his arm in an invitation to join him.
Buffy stepped out of her own shoes and, though he didn't think it was possible after this night, shocked him further by sliding her jeans down her strong, sun kissed legs. His eyes widened as he took her in, her little smile telling him she saw his reaction to her.
She slid in beside him so that they were facing each other and he wrapped his arms around her, relishing in her warmth and the feel of her body molding so perfectly against his.
Her fingertips trailed over his cheekbone.
"Goodnight." She whispered.
He tilted his head so that they slid downward, kissing her index as it passed over his lips.
"Sleep tight, luv."
They closed their eyes then, both wanting to sleep in feigned ignorance that everything would be okay in the days to come.