A/N: I won Runner Up Best Characterization at round 6 of the Rogue Poet Awards, and
Most Original Plot Judge's Choice and Judge's Pick at round 15 of the Spuffy Awards. Thank you!

-----

Chapter 69 - Connections

Buffy wasn’t sure how long they stayed in the basement. She slipped in and out of sleep, waking up long enough to remember why she was draped around Spike before drifting off again. The mats were really not so soft beneath them, but she didn’t want to move away from him even to walk upstairs.

However, at some point she felt herself being carried, and then they were in the living room. Spike laid her down across his lap, putting a pillow under her head as she settled in.

“Mm.” She frowned slightly as she closed her eyes. Her head hurt a bit, probably leftover from the ‘trying not to cry’ cry she’d had earlier.

“What, pet?”

“Just a little headache.”

Which was how she ended up with Spike rubbing her head with one hand, tracing circles on each side of her temple. His left arm fell across her chest, pressing against the underside of one breast and resting on top of the other.

It was intimate because it was so casual. He didn’t squeeze her or jiggle her, but his hand was draped there like it belonged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His palm lightly cupped her, blissfully reminding her of everything that had just happened.

She wasn’t going to cry anymore. It seemed like she had been crying a lot lately—sad cries, happy cries, a single random tear—but she was finished. No more fights, no more wishing that things were different, no more wondering how long this could last.

No more tears.

Spike continued to rub her head.

It wasn’t that Buffy was naïve; she didn’t think that she and Spike would never have another problem or disagreement. But the thing that had been twisting her heart to pieces was suddenly gone, removed by his words, his promise.

She had spent so long thinking that they could never have anything lasting that what had happened this afternoon left her floating. There was nothing between them anymore, no reason that she had to try to hold a piece of herself back.

They were still lying that way when she heard her mother’s car pull up.

Buffy opened her eyes, tensing slightly. “Do I look like I just had sex?”

His hand paused over her head. “Well, you smell like you just—”

“Well, good for me Mom is not a vampire,” she snapped. Buffy paused. “Do I really smell bad?”

Spike leered down at her as he ran his hand through her hair. “Did I say it was bad?”

Buffy heard the steps on the front porch. She moved Spike’s other hand from her breast to her waist.

Then she quickly rethought it and sat up completely.

“Your neck.”

Buffy frowned slightly before remembering that he had bitten her just an hour ago. Definitely not something she wanted her mother to see. She pulled all of her hair in front of her right shoulder.

A moment later, Joyce opened the door. Buffy heard her set her purse down before she came into the living room.

“Hi, honey. Hello, Spike.”

“Hi, Mom.”

Spike nodded in her direction. “Joyce.”

“Did you have a good day, Buffy?”

“Yeah, um, it was fine.”

Joyce looked at Spike again as she sat down in the chair.

“Would you like to stay for dinner? I haven’t decided what we’re having yet, but I’m sure I have enough for three.”

“Nah, that’s all right. Maybe some other night.”

She nodded. “Buffy said you have an apartment here.”

“It’s really nice,” Buffy added. Okay, so maybe that was a lie, but it wasn’t not nice. It was just your average apartment, if slightly on the below average side.

“Yeah, I got it a little while ago. When I came up here.”

Buffy noticed Spike’s left arm creeping over the back of the couch, resting around her without touching her.

“So how do you like Sunnydale?”

“I spent a little time here before. Not bad.” He smirked. “It’s got character.”

“Oh yes, it’s so much nicer than the city. Small towns are always so…unique.”

“Mom, he knows about the Hellmouth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Her mother continued after a moment. “So, are you able to find work here?”

“I came into a bit o’ money before, so not really a problem.”

“Well, that’s nice.”

Buffy was glad her mother didn’t press for the source of said money. While she didn’t want Joyce to think that Spike was jobless and sat around in his crappy apartment all day, whatever money he was referring to couldn’t have been gotten legally.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Joyce excused herself to fix dinner. Buffy walked Spike to the door.

“You didn’t want me to stay, did you?” he asked. “Cause I can. I just didn’t figure—”

“No, it’s fine. See you later?”

“Yeah.”

As soon as the door shut, Buffy heard her mother call from the kitchen.

“Buffy, could I talk to you for a minute?”

“Um, sure!”

Buffy walked down the hall, unsure of what to expect. It didn’t sound like the old about-to-get-in-trouble ‘could I talk to you,’ but there was a slight catch in her mother’s voice.

“What is it?”

Joyce paused chopping vegetables.

“You and Spike seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah. We are.”

“I take it you worked out the issues, then?”

“We did. So, I guess we’re going out or whatever.” She watched her mother, who didn’t show a reaction one way or another.

“Well, I’m glad.” Joyce started chopping again. “However—”

Here it comes…

“—I’d rather he didn’t sleep in your room.”

For a moment, Buffy just stared. “Huh?”

“He has been sometimes, hasn’t he? I heard you two arguing the other night.”

She must have heard them when they were fighting last Saturday.

“Um…yeah?” Buffy tried to look meek.

“Honey, you’re a big girl. If you want to spend time with Spike, I’m not going to try and stop you. I’d just rather you not do it over here. If you want to stay around here during the day that’s fine, but…”

Buffy zoned out for a minute. Was her mother telling her to spend more time at Spike’s? Wait—

“All we do at night is sleep,” Buffy blurted. “It’s not like—while you were a door away—we were…together—cause that would just be—” She cut herself off with a shudder.

“All right, all right.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You do…like Spike, right?” Buffy asked.

“I like Spike fine. And I understand that you want to spend time with him. As long as you let me know where you are.”

“Um, okay. Well, I’m probably going over there tonight after patrol.”

“All right, honey.” She turned to put the vegetables on the stove. “And Buffy? I’m glad you’re happy.”

Buffy smiled. “Me, too.”

-----

Patrol was uneventful. She and Spike went back to his apartment afterwards, and Buffy wrapped her arms around him after he took off his coat.

“Have I told you how happy I am?”

He smiled, pulling her closer. “You might have mentioned it.”

“Are you happy?”

“Course I am.” His brow wrinkled slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

At his blank stare, she continued. “What you did for me. Chose to give up for me.”

Spike’s hand moved up to her face, cupping her cheek. “I could never regret you,” he said softly.

For a moment, she was speechless. Then, “But…I mean, you never said anything before, that you were even thinking about—”

“I realized something.”

“What?”

“That I couldn’t lose you,” he said simply. “That if you weren’t here, nothin’ mattered, that I had to keep you no matter what.”

Once again, Buffy was speechless.

Then she slowly kissed him, pulling his head down to hers. “Have I shown you how happy I am?”

-----

Much of Tuesday was spent in bed. Waking up was slow and pleasant, and she realized it was only the second time that they’d had a real morning after together. And only the first time that they had lingered. It was early, and Buffy had no intentions of leaving the spot that she was so comfortably curled up in.

She knew without checking that Spike was already awake. She happily snuggled into him, wanting to feel every inch of his skin against hers. He pulled her closer, pressing her into his chest as his arms tightened around her. His hands ran down her back and she sighed against him, relishing the feeling of being with him completely.

Buffy could hear the hum of morning traffic outside and the sound of cars leaving the parking lot, but it barely seemed to penetrate her mind. The bedroom was peaceful and still nearly dark, and everything beyond it seemed distant and unimportant. She felt like she was in a cocoon—she and Spike wrapped in nothing but the sheets and each other.

It might have been minutes later or an hour later that she felt his leg beginning to edge between her thighs. She wordlessly opened herself to him, craving his touch. Soon he was slipping inside her, lifting her leg over his hip as they both lay on their sides. She was slightly tender from their desperate and somewhat rough sex the night before, but she didn’t care. She wanted him inside.

They made love, soft and slow, a blissful union that didn’t quite seem to end. He stayed inside her long after they shuddered, and she clung to him as her body relaxed, hanging in that place between sleeping and waking. Sometime later, Spike was hard and started to move again, a gentle rocking that brought her back to awareness, and set the pattern for the rest of the morning.

Sometimes it seemed they barely pushed against each other, as if trying to draw the act itself out for as long as they could. Sometimes she didn’t even come. But it wasn’t about release; it was about being as close to him as possible. Loving the way he felt inside her, loving being connected.

She would slip in and out of a contented haze afterward, drifting into an almost sleep for a few moments. Until he—or sometimes she—moved or twitched, pulling her back and starting their joining over again. Though once, it seemed that she had only stirred just in time to tremble around him.

The morning passed in an unhurried blur of her being cuddled against his body, of him being nestled within hers.

Buffy couldn’t remember even a word being spoken. The silence almost seemed too precious to break. And like this, they didn’t need words.

Their bodies shook once more, first her and then him, and Buffy found herself gliding into sleepy darkness once again.
.
.
.
When she next opened her eyes, she realized several things at once. One, she must have really fallen asleep last time, because it was definitely several hours later now. Two, Spike was no longer in the bed with her. And three, she was a bit sore.

It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable nor particularly pleasant, but just an expected effect of the hours that Spike had made himself at home between her thighs.

Buffy rolled over and stretched once before sitting up. The bedroom door was open, and she could see the brightness of the midday light spilling in from the living room. After a moment, she wrapped herself in the blanket and walked to the doorway. She blinked against the light for a moment before her eyes landed on Spike.

He was by the open front door, sitting against the frame as he smoked a cigarette. He was barefoot, and had on jeans and his rumpled T-shirt from the night before.

Buffy smiled. His hair was an adorable mess.

Spike looked in her direction.

“Hey,” she said.

“Morning.”

“Is it? Still morning?”

“No.”

Buffy walked over and sank down against the wall a few feet away from him, under the window where she couldn’t immediately be seen by anyone walking by. The open door made the room brighter than usual, and the crisp afternoon air slowly drifted in.

Spike blew some smoke out the door, resting the arm holding the cigarette on his knee.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I mean, it is your place.”

He seemed to consider. “Yeah, well…” He sniffed. “Fragile human lungs and all.”

Buffy realized that he never smoked around her unless they were outside. Even his apartment no longer smelled of smoke since she’d been spending more time in it.

For a moment, there was silence.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she blurted. “Be in a real relationship.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Seemed like we were doin’ fine when we weren’t in a relationship.”

“Yeah, but it’s like official now. Like there’s a certain way we should be or something.”

Spike regarded her for a moment. “Tell you what, pet. You just be Buffy and it’ll work itself out. Don’t worry about what should be.”

“I guess.”

“Had a bloke before, didn’t you? A real relationship?”

“We put notes in each other’s lockers and went to football games together. Kissed in the hall between classes and drove around in his dad’s sports car. It was all so…high school. It seems so far away, even though it was less than a year ago. Everything’s so different now. More…real.”

Spike was silent as she continued.

“Not just us, what we have. And not being the Slayer. I feel like I’m more real. More grown up, more me.”

“Gettin’ outta high school does that.”

Buffy arched a brow. “Says the vampire who has no idea what high school is like.”

“Or so I’ve heard.” He took a drag from the cigarette.

“From who?”

“The telly.”

She smiled. Buffy had noticed that Spike watched some shows that she wouldn’t have expected him to be interested in.

“High school can sort of suck you in,” she said. “It almost felt like I should be dating someone, so why not him? Did I ever tell you why we started going out? When I was sixteen, I almost drowned. A bunch of us were at a mutual friend’s house, messing around in the pool, and I went under wrong and hit my head. They said I stopped breathing for almost a minute. He gave me CPR. I don’t think we’d even spoken before that. We went out to dinner, and then it just seemed like…why stop?”

Spike snorted, flicking the cigarette butt out the door. “You dated someone you barely knew cause he saved your life?”

“Don’t knock it. You saved my life—I’m dating you.” She paused. “Oh God, do I like have a complex or something?”

Spike snorted. “Two is not a complex. And you know me.” He stood and closed the door.

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

“Such as?” He sank down beside her.

“Something that you think I, as an official girlfriend, should know. Like…when’s your birthday?”

“Not really important.”

Buffy pouted. “Then how am I supposed to get you a present?”

“Haven’t had a birthday in a long time, love. Not gettin’ any older.”

She supposed he had a point there. And there really was no reason vampires would be into birthdays.

“Please tell me you don’t celebrate your death day or whatever.”

“Nope. Don’t pay it any mind.”

She was oddly relieved at that, though something still felt like it was missing. But maybe things like birthdays didn’t matter after such a long time.

“Feel free to buy me presents whenever you want, though.” He grinned.

“Ha ha. Okay, well, what’s your last name? I’m guessing it isn’t ‘the Bloody.’”

Spike was silent for a moment. “One condition, though.”

She frowned slightly, but agreed. “Okay. What?”

“Don’t go tellin’ anyone else,” he said seriously. “I don’t need anyone diggin’ through my past.”

Buffy started to say that his past was already pretty dug through, before she realized that he meant his human past. From what little he’d said to her about it, she’d realized it was something he was sensitive about. She hadn’t meant to get into it now, really. But birthdays and last names were usually common and safe subjects to inquire about.

“I won’t,” she said.

“It’s Pratt.” He paused. “And I was born in May.”

“Thank you.”

He gave a half shrug.

“Here, I’ll tell you something about me that you don’t know. My middle name is Anne.”

“Knew that.”

“How—?” she started. Then she remembered another conversation where he’d admitted to knowing her phone number, among various other facts. “Wesley and his forms take the fun out of everything. Well, at least you’ll have no excuse if you forget my birthday, which I very much celebrate, by the way. Feel free to buy me presents.”

“Noted.”

Buffy thought for a moment more. “Okay, no one knows this. The day you left our house in L.A. and said that you couldn’t see me again, that night I went into the guest room and slept on the bed. Mom had already taken your sheets off, but I still felt…closer to you. I wondered where you were. I think I wondered about you all day that day.”

Spike didn’t say anything.

“What did you do that day?” she asked.

“Tried not to think about you.”

“We had messy timing, huh?”

“Yeah.” Then Spike smirked. “You should’ve crawled into the bed before, love. When the sheets were still on it.”

“And you were still in it?” Buffy laughed. “Easy for you to say now. That wouldn’t have happened for so many reasons, and you know it.”

“Yeah.” Spike paused. “Once, when you were in class when I was watchin’ you, I was bored and was scribbling stuff. Don’t even remember what I was writing. But your name was there, mixed in with all of it.”

Buffy couldn’t help it, she giggled. “Oh my God, that is so cute.”

“Shut up,” he said without feeling.

“But it totally is.” She grinned. “That’s like writing your name with your crush’s to see how they look together.”

“I didn’t write it on purpose. I was just messin’ around, and suddenly it was there.”

“I know. But that’s even better.”

He was beginning to look somewhat put off.

“Don’t start with that,” Buffy said. “You teased me about the bed thing, saying I should have jumped in there with you.”

Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth. “We could jump in right now.”

“Maybe later. I want to get cleaned up. And I’m starving.”

“All right.” He stood, pulling her with him. “You take a nice bath and I’ll go get you somethin’ to eat.”

“You don’t have to go out. I’ve got stuff here.”

“I don’t mind. Need some smokes, anyway. What do you want?”

She paused, considering. It was the afternoon, so she wasn’t really in the mood for breakfast, but she also didn’t feel like anything heavy or too ‘real food.’ “How about some cinnamon sticks from the pizza place on the corner? Maybe a salad?”

He nodded.

Buffy discarded the blanket and went into the bathroom. She knelt and turned on the faucet in the tub as Spike sat on the floor by the bedroom door, lacing up his boots.

Swirling her hand around in the water, Buffy mixed the cool water with the warm that had begun to flow. Maybe real wasn’t so hard after all.