Buffy wakes to bird song, and daylight trying to pry its way through the blinds of her bedroom. Her head feels fuzzy and far away. And there's a heavy weight across her chest and shoulder.
She massages sleep out of her eyes with the heel of her hand, trying to dispel some of the fog that continues to linger in her mind. The weight on her chest moves a little. An arm, snaking closer around her, wrapping more tightly around her ribcage.
Buffy turns, coming face to face with the sleeping form of Spike. Last night comes back in a shocking uncontrollable wave, but none of it seems to penetrate through her mind as he pulls her in closer, still asleep but gripping her tightly. Pale muscles relaxing around her like a snake uncoiling a little at the feel of her skin under his. His head is nestled against her neck and in sleep he shifts in closer, wraps a leg over hers, his cheek flush against her neck.
Buffy gasps a little as his lips touch her skin.
His skin is warm from being close to her underneath the covers all night. Sleep lends him a softness that clashes with the wire cut of his jaw, the sharp angles of his face. Thick black eyebrows offset by white ragged curls, almost glowing in the morning's half light-
Oh shit- morning, what time is it?!
Buffy turns her head to her the nightstand, checking the clock-
HOLY CRAP HOW IS IT NEARLY NOON!?
"Spike!"
He stirs, but doesn't wake. Instead he winds tighter around her, his hand dipping underneath her waist anchoring her completely to him, face nuzzling deeper into her neck, hips sliding against hers-
Oh.
Buffy swallows. Even in sleep his body seems completely aware of her, and as she tries to shift back out of his grasp he rouses a little out of the depths of unconsciousness, purring lightly and pulling her back in.
"Spike, wake up!"
"Buffy..." It comes out as little more than a sigh but it sets her spine tingling. An achingly soft whisper but with a growl beneath it. The way he murmurs her name, like he was dreaming of her all night, pining for her all his life-
Get a grip!
"Spike, you have to wake up! It's morning!"
"M'nocturnal, pet." His moving lips catch a soft patch of skin at the base of her neck and she bites her lip, trying to edge back from him. Eyes still heavy lidded he's pulling her closer still so she's lying flush beneath him.
"You have to go!" She hisses, shaking him by the shoulder as she tries to pull herself out of his grasp.
"Can't."
"Why!?"
"Because it's morning, you just bloody well said so."
"I'm serious Spike!"
"So'm I. I've really rather outgrown my bursting into flames phase. Takes sodding ages to get rid of the blisters." Instead of moving off her he's moving further down. She tries to slip away but he yanks her back hard, sharp teeth grazing over already sensitive and sore skin. Caressing bruises with his tongue, scratching the love bites he's littered down her chest with his teeth. He traces her collarbone and she shudders, angry at how her own body betrays her. Resolve crumbling from nothing but the slightest touch.
He groans against her neck as he pushes her knees apart with his own, before slipping in between her legs, making the bed creak loudly.
She winces, edges her hips back from his.
"Spike! Shhh!"
"If you want me to be quiet, I'll happily take a bribe, luv."
"With what?"
"A kiss." He levels himself off her a little, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers, catching her chin and pushing it up so she meets his gaze. "Say good morning properly."
She sighs exasperated and kisses him quickly on the lips. He chuckles.
"You can do better than that. Kiss me the way you did last night."
"Spike, off-" He smirks, and wraps his fingers around the bars of the bed frame, pretending to thrust against her, making the bed howl with a cacophony of squeaks.
"Alright, stop!"
She checks the time again before biting her lip. Weighing her mothers raised eyebrow with the desire to stay under the covers with him all day.
Just ten more minutes... I've missed feeling so wanted, I can have ten more minutes, right?
She slips her arm round his back, pulling him down to her a little more. She runs a thumb over his lips and can see he's already mesmerized, his eyes turning from blue to near black as his pupils dilate into huge dark oceans.
She pushes her lips gently against his, and he lets her take the lead, his hands relinquishing the bed-frame to pull her closer, slipping round her shoulders, fingers curling up the nape of her neck into her wild hair. She cups his face, pulling him in as she widens their kiss, her tongue darting across his lips before entwining around his.
Her leg slips around his waist anchoring herself to him as she pushes up against him and he groans, low and deep, lost in her kiss completely. She breaks away from his lips and trails hers down over his jaw, moving round to his nuzzles in closer, wrapping around him in an embrace that sinks heat into his skin. She feels him sigh a little from the enveloping warmth, the easy intimacy. She let's herself feel it just a little too, letting the weight of him press her back into the bed, feeling completely surrounded.
"There. Now get dressed." She pushes him back and maneuvers herself out from under his arms.
He rolls his eyes.
"Women."
Buffy slips out of the bed, pulling on her clothes.
"How're you going to get back to your crypt?"
"How'm I what now?"
"You can't stay here, Spike."
He huffs.
"Why not?"
"Because my mother's in the house!"
He catches her hand as she moves past the bed, holding her own hand up in front of her face, forcing her to look at the chunky, silver ring nestled against her knuckle.
"And what exactly happened to not skulking about?"
She pulls her hand back, reaching for a sweater to accompany the jeans she's found on the floor.
"It's not skulking, it's... strategically not giving her a heart attack to accompany her recent brain surgery."
"Sure. Fine. But I still can't bloody well leave, darlin'. It's broad-sodding-daylight."
"I'll lend you a blanket." She grabs one that's slipped off the bed and holds it out to Spike. He raises an eyebrow at the fluffy blue florals.
"You are kidding."
"Just get dressed!"
She hustles him down the stairs as quietly as she can, practically pushing him, but he's not cooperating. He drags his feet, going deliberately at a snails pace, holding the blanket in one hand and letting his boots thump down heavily on every step.
"Spike, for Gods sake! Move!" She hisses.
"Can't help it luv, you've got me weak at the knees."
"Stop it!"
"In fact I think I'm going down." He slumps against her as they reach the front door, wrapping an arm over her shoulders for support as his teeth graze the shell of her ear.
"STOP IT!" She gets the door open behind him but he doesn't budge.
"Don't I get a goodbye kiss?"
"Spike-" she pleads.
"Spike?" They both jump, heads whipping round to face Joyce standing in the entrance to the dining room.
"Uh-" Buffy pales as Spike closes the door behind him.
"Morning Joyce. How's the head?"
"Much better, thank you." She raises an eyebrow at Buffy.
"Uh.. Spike just came by for... for uh.. uh-" she stammers.
"For band practice?" Joyce smiles, ironically.
"Well it's definitely not bible study." Dawn bounces down the stairs, smirking whilst Buffy turns a deep shade of pink. She disappears into the kitchen.
Spike smiles innocently and Buffy turns an even deeper red.
"Just thought I'd stop by. Check on Sunnydale's favorite patient."
"Well that's very thoughtful." Joyce smiles back, "I'm making coffee, would you like some?"
"Love some-"
"No!" Buffy interrupts, trying to re-open the door Spike's leaning against. "Spike's really got to get going. He's got a... thing that needs taking care of. Big, evil thing. Can't wait. Right Spike?"
He snaps his fingers.
"Oh right, knew there was something I forgot to tell you. All a big misunderstanding. Whole day of fighting evil just totally blown over." He grins, watching as she purses her lips. "My day's wide open, pet." He hands her back the fluffy floral blanket, following Joyce into the kitchen as Buffy glares at his back.
"So really, how's the battle wound? All healed up?"
"Not quite, but much better. I'm just trying to work up the nerve to change the dressing. Stitches always give me the heebie jeebies." She hands him a cup of coffee.
He takes a sip.
"Want me to do it?"
Joyce blinks, taken aback by the offer.
"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that."
"S'no trouble." Spike sets the coffee cup down. "Your eldest has given me enough cause for stitches, and I know my way around most cuts and bruises." He drags the first aid box lying open on the kitchen island towards him, expertly fishing out what he needs.
Buffy watches from the doorway, too stunned to protest, as he washes his hands in the sink before carefully scooping her mother's hair back away from the old bandage and gently peels it off.
A row of dark stitches grace her forehead.
"Oh cooool." Dawn murmurs around a mouthful of cereal, before catching Spike and Joyce's raised eyebrows. "Uh, I mean gross."
"You ghoul." Joyce chuckles.
Spike carefully cleans it with an antiseptic wipe and applies the new bandage with deft fingers, squeezing her shoulder to let her know he's finished. "Good as new."
Joyce smiles warmly, patting her hair back into place.
Buffy shakes her head. Really didn't think this rabbit hole could go any deeper.
"So what's everyone's plans for today?"
"Janice's." Dawn slurs through another mouthful of cereal.
"And I'm heading to the gallery," replies Joyce.
"Uh, really? You sure you're up to it?" Buffy opens the fridge and pours herself a glass of orange juice. "The doctor said it's super duper rest from now until... well he didn't actually give a cut off point but I expect forever."
"I'll be fine Buffy. I'm getting a ride there and back, and all I'm going to do is sit in a comfortable chair and say yes or no to the new shipment. Just a very easy, restful, somewhat judgmental day."
Buffy mock glares. "Alright. But it better be mega restful. And super judgey."
"Agreed. Actually I should get my things together, I'll be off in ten."
She checks her watch, and heads out of the kitchen. A car horn blares outside and Dawn jumps, spilling milk across the counter.
"That's Janice. See ya!"
"Ugh, teenage slob!" Buffy calls after her but she's out the door.
She bites her lip, realizing Spike and her are alone.
And that oddly he hasn't taken his eyes off the newspaper lying on the counter even as milk starts to puddle towards it.
"Something interesting?"
He spins the newspaper round so she can read it.
...Six Found Murdered On A Train At Sunnydale Station...
...police investigating the bizarre case of a traincar massacre for which there are unconfirmed reports of severe trauma to the throats of one or more of the victims...
...No apparent witnesses...
"Bye Buffy!" Joyce calls from the hallway.
"Uh huh." Buffy mumbles as her eyes skim through the rest of the article, before Spike snatches it back and bats her with it. "What- Oh! BYE MOM!"
The front door closes and a strange hush falls between them. Buffy swallows. Spike's eyes linger on her.
"Sounds like work's calling, luv." Spike downs the last of the coffee and leaves the mug in the sink. "Wanna check it out later?"
"Yes... I mean uh. I'll take Xander. We'll head over after he finishes work."
Spike leans against the sink. Clenching his jaw at the obvious exclusion.
"Suit yourself."
"Don't pout."
Buffy reaches for a cloth to wipe up the milk that Dawn spilled. He catches her wrist, drawing her closer in.
"How about you give me a reason not to pout?"
She rolls her eyes but it's not sincere. He pulls her in, arms snaking round her waist, holding her tight as his lips touch hers, tongue weaves passed her teeth to wrap around her own.
Spike feels like his fingers are melting. Each piece of skin in contact with hers feels like it's being thawed.
But it's not quite enough to keep his attention this time. A thick ugly knot has corded itself around his guts.
The newspaper had a photograph of the carriage, and it keeps flashing up in his head.
I'm wrong. I've got to be wrong.
I'm wrong, or it means nothing. Just a coincidence.
But it doesn't stop the thought of it settling in his mind like a poison.
On one of the luggage racks, hanging off from the edge, nearly obscured by the camera's edge... what appeared to be a china doll.
