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Chapter 11

Willow, coming into the room a while later, stopped abruptly when she saw the two of them sleeping in each other's arms. Ohhhhhhh! She thought. Thank God. Then she turned round and quietly tiptoed back outside. There, she sat herself down on one of the plastic chairs and took out the book she was reading. No one was getting in that room, not for a while yet. Not if she had anything to do with it!

It was still dark when Spike woke up, with that vampire's innate instinct for when it was dawn or dusk. They had left the blinds open, so the room was still dark; though he could see the faintest pink light coming from outside. His chin was resting on the Slayer's golden head, which gleamed even in the darkness, and both his arms were around her. Her hand was resting on his stomach, under his t-shirt. He decided he would have to try to move away from her, without waking her, so he could pull down the blinds before the sun came in and reduced him to a not so attractive pile of Spike dust. He had thought she was still asleep so he gulped when that delicate hand began tracing small circles on his abdomen. Round and round that slender finger went. Then it moved southwards and traced its way around his navel. If I were a breathing man, he thought to himself, this is where I would stop breathing.

'Buffy?'

'Hmm?' This was said in a sleepy voice that sent a jolt of electricity straight to his groin.

'What are you doing?'

'Nothing.' The finger moved a little further south. Spike laid his hand on top of hers to halt its progress.

'Doesn't feel like nothing!'

'Just…. I'm just…. remembering.'

'Remembering what?'

There was silence. Then she spoke in a very quiet voice. 'Remembering what your body feels like.'

His head lifted up at that, but she was still resting hers on his chest, her eyes firmly shut. Right.

When he had given his vocal chords a chance to start working again, he spoke, equally quietly, afraid loudness would shatter this fragile moment they were having. 'Er…. So…, that's something you want to think about right now?'

'Why not?'

'Ahh. Well, uh, um…..'

'You sound like Giles when one of us talks about sex.'

Oh, God. She did not just say the s-word, while her hand is this close to…..!

'Spike, I couldn't wrestle a mouse to take its cheese at the moment, so please don't get any ideas. I'm in no shape for anything…. strenuous.'

'…' His mind went blank, apart from certain images from their past together.

She removed her hand from under his and moved it back up his torso, coming to rest on his chest, still under his t-shirt.

'Buffy! Could you stop doing that?'

'Why? I'm not hurting anyone.'

'I thought you were mad at me?'

'Well, I am, but I'm in no condition to show you either how furious I am at you, or how much I've missed you. So let's just rest.'

'The meds must be getting to you. Did you just say you missed me?'

'You must have heard me wrong.'

He felt the movement of her head as it tilted upwards. So he looked down and this time her eyes were open. They were full of mischief, yet the dark circles under them were not better, and he felt his heart contract with love for her. She thought she might be dying, she had thought he was dead, and yet, here she was, teasing him once more. He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears.

'Spike, don't be such a sap. I'm not a goner yet, and you're going to help me make sure it doesn't happen.'

'I…. I'm not sure I can.' He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

'Spike, look at me. Look at me!'

Reluctantly he did so. She moved so that their heads were nearly on a level. Their noses were almost touching, and he could feel her warm breath on his skin. He shivered, just a little, and the tiniest of smiles touched her lips when she felt that almost imperceptible vibration.

She whispered into his mouth, with that little uplift of her lips softening the words, 'Don't think I've forgotten that you let me mourn for you all these months. Don't think there won't be consequences for that. But right now, we have a bigger problem, so retribution can wait. Do you understand that?'

'Yes. Ok, I get it. So what…'

But he did not get to finish his question because Buffy pushed herself just a little further so that her lips came into contact with his. At the first taste of each other, she sighed and he groaned. She had meant it to be the lightest of embraces, but the sensation of that firm, cool mouth on hers made a million minute tendrils of desire rush through every part of her body, weak as she was, and she was drowning in him. He lost the power of coherent thought the moment she initiated contact.

He pulled her closer and took control, that clever mouth moving over hers, his tongue brushing over her lower lip and then pushing forward. Tongue met tongue, teeth nibbled and bit softly, and lips soothed the almost pain away. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and whimpered at the taste of him. Oh, that taste that she thought she would never experience again. As she bit on his lip, he groaned again and whispered her name into her mouth.

They could not get close enough, hugging each other tighter and tighter, limbs tangling with limbs, until she gave a little cry of pain. The world rushed back and Spike pulled away to look at her in concern. 'God, Buffy, we shouldn't be doing this. You're not strong enough.'

She was breathless and flushed, and it took her a moment to answer.

'There are probably a thousand reasons why we shouldn't be doing this.'

The stricken look in his eyes made her give him a brief but passionate kiss. 'No, I don't mean it like that. Ok, maybe I do. But I just couldn't bear to think that I might die, never having kissed you again.'

This completely unexpected and un-Slayer-like admission made his mouth fall open and his eyes widen, an expression that made Buffy laugh out loud.

'Spike, I'm done playing games. You know, you should have believed me in the Hellmouth.'

'What do you…..' He stopped when he realised what she might be talking about. His eyes got even wider.

'Yes, you know what I'm talking about. You thanked me, but you didn't believe a word of it. Idiot. All this time wasted. Trust William the Bloody to get it all wrong.'

She said it all with a smile that made her words sound almost loving.

She resettled herself so that she was again resting her head on Spike's chest, with his arm around her protectively.

After a while, she spoke softly to him. 'It's you and me. The vampire and the Slayer. Don't expect violins and roses, and some slow-motion romantic reunion. I have no ideas beyond getting well. I have no clue about us or if there can ever be an us. But, for now, you're here and if I had the words to tell you what that means to me, I would. But I don't. I'm a doer, not a talker, as you know. That kiss was me saying all the mushy stuff, get that? Now close those blinds and let's get some sleep. Just promise me you'll be here when I wake up.'

So he did just that, and then came back to the bed. He took his boots off and climbed in beside her, his arms immediately finding their place around her slight body. 'I'll be here, ok. Always.'

When Willow poked her head in a couple of hours later, they were both asleep, curled up together.

Later, when the medical staff came in to check on Buffy, Spike went to find some blood. He'd been forgetting to eat, and he knew that he needed to be at full strength for whatever lay ahead. When he came back, the look of relief on Buffy's face when she saw him, made him want to sweep her up in his arms and never let her go. He settled for sitting next to the bed and entwining his fingers with hers. She made no effort to pull away. They sat like that for a whole, talking of not very much, enjoying the moment.

Then the door opened and Angel walked in. His eyes flashed when he saw their conjoined hands. Spike expected Buffy to let go, but she just tightened her grip, as much as she could in her weakened state.

'Any news? Any more information to help me leap out of this bed full of Slayer-y vim and vigour?'

Angel decided to ignore the sickening sight of Buffy and Spike holding hands like love-sick teenagers. 'We've got people working on it. But the guy at the library's been found dead and the manuskript is gone. No clues, except one of the other librarians remembered seeing our guy talking to an old lady just before the library closed.'

'Myrsina.' Spike stated it as a fact, rather than a question. 'So now what?'