A/N: Song used is Billy Idol's Eyes Without a Face
Buffy's knuckles had barely touched the surface of Giles' door when he answered.
He had one arm in the sleeve of his winter coat and was struggling into the other. "Ah, good, you remembered the blood. He was running low," Giles muttered distractedly and she got the impression he was avoiding eye contact. "Again, thank you for doing this," he continued, while buttoning the thick wool coat. "It's one thing to leave him for a few minutes, quite another for hours on end—"
"Yeah well, everyone seems to be extra busy tonight, heck even Mom, so…" she trailed off, not wanting to process the pinkish tinge suddenly coloring Giles' ears and she let him rush out the door without much more than a perfunctory farewell.
The door clicked with his sudden departure, leaving Buffy standing alone in front of the door staring at the corpse on the couch, and holding a large container of blood from the butcher's.
She scrunched her nose as she set the blood in the fridge and tried to settle in. The sun would be setting soon, and it occurred to her that Spike was normally awake by this time. The fact that he wasn't niggled at the inside of her brain uncomfortably. She started to wonder if he'd slept as poorly as she had, then wondered why the hell she cared.
Buffy took a seat in the chair between the couch and the television where she could simultaneously watch both, fully expecting Spike to awake as she flicked through the channels looking for something to watch. As such, she wasn't surprised in the slightest when he let out a groan.
She shifted in her seat, readying herself for whatever nonsense was about to come out of his mouth when he repeated the sound. Only this time it was utterly obscene. The sound sent a jolt of electricity through her body and she shot out of her seat ready to make any number of denials if he so much as smirked at her.
But he didn't.
In fact, aside from shifting his head slightly, he hadn't moved, eyes closed, mouth slightly agape and relaxed. He looked—good.
"That's right, luv…" Spike whispered, his voice holding a desperate note.
She took a step back, brows furrowed. "Spike?"
The hand laying on his flat stomach twitched. "Want you…Need you…"
Buffy pressed her palm to her forehead.
The idiot was talking in his sleep, and from the sound of it she really didn't want to know what about. She strode into the kitchen to get a glass of water and managed to down over half of it when Spike resumed his sleep-talking.
"God, Buffy… I love you so much…"
(*)
"Eyes without a face
Eyes without a face
Eyes without a face
Got no human grace
You're eyes without a face…"
Spike held her against his chest as they swayed to the sound of Billy Idol singing in the background. He tried to look around at their surroundings but he didn't recognize the gray walls. He could have been almost anywhere and it wouldn't have mattered, because he was with her.
Buffy, the Slayer… He watched in awe as she looked up at him with shining green eyes, so vast he could get lost in them, and then she did the unthinkable. She kissed him.
"I spent so much time
Believing all the lies
To keep the dream alive…"
She pulled back coyly. "We're finally alone…"
"That's right, Luv," he replied, pulling her back in for a heated kiss that burned through him like whiskey, setting him aflame.
Her hands roamed all over his body and yet he couldn't get enough. Her nails clawed into his scalp, gripped his neck, and dug into his shoulders. The black shirt he'd been wearing was suddenly gone—along with Buffy's clothes, much to his delight, and he gripped one arm around her while the other twisted into her hair.
"Spike?"
"I want you—need you…" He rasped as he guided her down onto a silk covered bed.
He didn't even stop to think about where it had come from. Not with Buffy's legs wrapped around his hips. Skin pressed against skin. Her lips were on his throat, lavishing him with kisses and nips as he murmured sweet devotions in her ear.
"God, Buffy… I love you so much…"
A scream ripped through the air, and Spike jerked up only to be sent back into his pillow on the couch with a hit to the face. Pain serried within his skull as white hot stars erupted behind his eyelids. He righted himself, clutching his bloodied nose and glared into a pair of extremely pissed-off green eyes. She only held his gaze a moment though before flouncing down the hall, slamming the bathroom door behind herself.
And here I thought we were mending bridges… He thought ruefully as Billy Idol's voice resonated within his mind…
"Now it makes me sad
It makes me mad at truth
For loving what was you
Eyes without a face
Eyes without a face
Eyes without a face
Got no human grace
You're eyes without a face…"