Chapter 74 - Assurances

Spike opened the apartment door for her, skirting around her as he closed it.

Buffy frowned, stepping into his space. “What are you doing?”

“What?” He shrugged.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re being distant.”

“No, I’m not.” He moved around her and headed toward the kitchen.

She lunged at him, catching him around the waist and pressing her face into his back. He tensed.

“I can’t do this,” Buffy said. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I need you to be here. I can’t handle this if you start acting all weird, too.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Look, I know things were a little…intense this morning, but we’re not exactly going to be sparring here.” She paused. “So will you stop looking at me like I’m going to shatter if you sneeze wrong? We have done this before, you know.”

After a moment, she felt him relax beneath her touch.

“All right,” he finally said.

Spike gently rested his hands over her own before turning around to face her. Buffy slid her arms around, clasping them behind his back.

“See?” she said. “Perfectly fine. Well, as much as I can be.”

“You figure anything out today?”

“No, not really. But Willow’s working on it. So is Giles.” She sighed, leaning into him. “And I just want to stop thinking about it, but I can’t. And I’m so tired. I haven’t done anything all day but think about it, and I’m tired.”

Spike’s hand was rubbing over her back. “You wanna go to sleep?”

“Not really. Could we maybe just curl up?” Buffy felt sort of pathetic asking that, even though she knew he wouldn’t mind.

“Sure, love.”

“Just let me change clothes,” she said, pulling back.

Buffy went into the bedroom, glad that Spike didn’t immediately follow her in. She quickly stripped out of her clothing and put on an oversize sleeping shirt—one with sleeves that hung down to her elbows. It wasn’t that she was hiding the bruise on her arm—but, well, she just wasn’t going to tell him.

Spike came in a moment later, leaving the door to the living room open and the lights on behind him. He switched the bedroom light off.

Propping the pillows up, Spike settled back on top of the covers as Buffy crawled into the bed. She flipped the comforter over herself, and Spike wrapped an arm around her. Buffy curled up against him, resting her head on his chest. She felt a little bad about being so clingy, but she needed it.

“What did you do today?” she asked.

“Couldn’t sense me?”

“No.”

“Came back here, then went out. Waited around for you.” She felt him shrug slightly. “Couldn’t leave you alone like that, somethin’ could happen.”

“I know this must be weird for you.”

“No more than for you.”

Buffy fell silent for a moment.

“Spike?”

“Hm?”

“What if I don’t come back?” she asked in a small voice.

There was another minute of silence. “You never left, Buffy.”

“But I’m not the same.”

“No, you’re not. And?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “This morning, you—you said we’d fix it.”

“Thought you wanted to fix it.”

“I do. Of course I do. But, the other day, when you got all turned on when we fought, what if—what if I can’t do that anymore?”

“Are you suggesting,” he asked tightly, “that I wouldn’t want you?”

“No. Not really.”

“You’re still you.”

She shifted. “I know, but—but wouldn’t you miss that? Fighting with me?”

“I guess, yeah. But if you can’t fight, I get to protect you. So it works out.”

“But what do you want?”

“You,” he said simply.

There was a silence.

“Yeah, things would be different for a while, but it wouldn’t matter.” Spike paused, running his other hand slowly up and down her forearm. “Buffy, what do you want?”

Her eyes focused blankly on the light spilling in from the living room. “I want to know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well, yeah. But beyond that.”

“I’m afraid it won’t come back,” she finally said. “Today, I was all about fixing it, but then I started thinking that maybe this was just it. What if there was some cosmic glitch? What if some other girl has already been called? What if I’m just me again?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I’d miss fighting with you. I never really thought fighting would be fun, but it sort of is. I wouldn’t miss patrolling. I wouldn’t miss having to do things. But I’d miss helping people, I think. I didn’t like being the Slayer at first, you know. But it seemed selfish and wrong—almost evil—to be able to do these amazing things and to not be doing them. But it wasn’t like I wanted to fight vampires. I fought them because I was the Slayer.”

Spike’s hand hovered over hers, lightly touching her fingers. “Do you want to be the Slayer?”

“Wanting never had much to do with it. There wasn’t a choice about it. I wasn’t; then I was, so I did it. I suppose,” Buffy said slowly, “that if I wasn’t again, I’d adjust. I’ve only been the Slayer a few months. But…if I’m not the Slayer, it’s not my fight. I might feel bad about it, but I don’t want to do it. Not like this.

“I know Giles and Willow and Xander do, but it was their choice to do this. No one made them. They don’t have a duty; they could walk away—well, maybe not Giles. But like, Giles is a Watcher who’s trained for years, Willow is a witch well on her way to flinging stakes with her mind, heck—even Xander’s more than twice as strong as me now.”

“You’d miss being strong,” Spike observed.

Buffy looked up. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Not that hard to figure out, pet. I’d miss being strong.”

“I’d miss being free,” she said, pressing her cheek to his shirt again. “I don’t think you really get it. I don’t think any guy can get it—the way being a girl is different. I mean, yeah, everyone should be careful, but it’s still different. The way you can be out late, but not too late, the way when you walk into a parking garage, you have to notice everything.”

“I get that bit,” he said in a low voice. “From the reverse perspective.”

Spike didn’t say anything else, and it took Buffy a moment to process his words. He meant that he knew how to tell who was easy pickings.

“Right, well…” Buffy trailed off. “But for once, I didn’t have to think about any of that. One of the first nights after I was called, I went to this club. And for the first time ever, I was by myself and I didn’t have to worry about anything at all. It was so…”

“Liberating,” Spike finished.

Buffy couldn’t help but feel that he was thinking of when he was turned. She could imagine that that was freeing, in a different way.

“I realized that I wouldn’t have to worry about everyday dangers again,” she said. “I just had to worry about the big bads. So yeah, it’d be nice to have the powers and not have to go slaying, but that’s not how it works. No something for nothing.

“If whatever happened to me sticks… I might not miss fighting itself, but I’d miss being able to fight. The daily dangers are back, for one. But now…I’d worry about more than just bad people.”

He didn’t say anything, and Buffy realized he was waiting for her to speak again.

“I know too much,” she said. “I’ve seen too much. I can’t go back to how I was. Even if it turns out that my powers are gone, and I don’t want to fight, I still know. I know what’s out there. I know what happens at night.”

Spike pulled her closer, and he stilled as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “You know I’d always keep you safe,” he whispered.

“I do.”

“You don’t need to be scared.”

“I know,” she said. “But I like being able to keep myself safe, too. I don’t want to be afraid to set foot outside by myself.”

“You knew about vampires before you were the Slayer.”

“Yeah, but not quite so much or quite so many. And this is the Hellmouth.” Buffy paused. “I did know this one vampire in particular…” she said playfully, running her hand up his chest.

He chuckled.

Buffy glanced up, making out his features in the dim light. She tilted her head slightly as she studied him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Protectively. Did you like me better when I was human?”

Spike exhaled, frowning at her. “Bloody hell, I can’t win. ‘Do you like me better now that I’m the Slayer?’ ‘Did you like me better when I was human?’”

“I never asked if you liked me better since I was the Slayer. I asked if you liked my blood better.”

“Same difference.”

Buffy shoved him. “Hey!”

“Kidding. I’m kidding.”

“And right now I’m asking because you suddenly look like you’re very warmed up to the idea of fragile Buffy.”

“I like you. I liked you when you were a girl. I liked you when you were the Slayer—thought I shouldn’t at first, but that didn’t mean I didn’t.” He paused. “Yeah, it’s sorta strange right now. ‘Fragile Buffy’ was the first Buffy I met. Haven’t thought of you as fragile in a long time. It’s like a piece of the past—you like this. Not an unpleasant piece, mind. Just makes me remember what it was like.”

Buffy thought about that for a minute. An unexpected question sprang to her lips.

“Back then, would you have told me that you were a vampire, if I hadn’t seen?” she asked quietly.

“No.”

“Why?” She scooted up, turning to look at him.

“It would have made it easier to walk away.”

“Even though you liked me.”

“I thought it was better that way.”

“Why did you get to decide what was better?”

“So sorry,” he said flatly. “Thought I might accidentally eat you.”

Buffy couldn’t think of an argument to continue with. As a reason to leave someone over, that was pretty good.

“Did you really?” she asked after a moment. “I know you said that, but did you really?”

“Didn’t have much reason to think I wouldn’t. Didn’t exactly have the best track record. But then, I never tried before, either.”

Buffy leaned back down, draping herself over his chest and wrapping her arms around him. “I don’t think you could have.”

She felt Spike exhale as his hands came up to rest on her back.

“Probably not,” he said. “I imagined it, though. But I never imagined doing it. I just thought it would happen somehow. Even when I knew I wouldn’t, I still had no idea what to do with you.” He laughed once. “I never got as far as thinkin’ about what it’d be like to stay with you.”

Buffy giggled in spite of herself. “Just a vacation romance?”

“Vacation?”

“From, you know, vampire things. Change of pace. Though, I can’t imagine it was easy, considering.”

“Yeah—fancy house, soft bed, premium cable, pretty girl—it was hard.”

“You know what I mean. Although, I think you sort of liked pretending to be human.”

“Did not. And pretendin’?”

“Okay, so maybe that’s the wrong word,” she said. “It’s not like you invented a fictitious life story. But there was some part of you that got a big kick out of playing the game. Even in an ‘I know something they don’t know’ way.”

“All right, I’ll give you that.”

Buffy propped herself up, even as she continued to lay mostly across him. “You liked it.”

“Must have,” he said, grinning. Spike ran his fingers through a strand of her hair, pulling it out to the side before letting it drop. “Cause I know I couldn’t have liked protectin’ some helpless girl.”

Buffy caught his arm. “You liked me because I was a helpless girl?”

“Because you needed me. I think I’d missed that—being needed by someone.”

“I still need you.”

“I need you.”

She leaned closer. “I always will.”

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Make love to me.”

Spike suddenly tensed beneath her.

“Unless you don’t want to,” she said.

“Of course I want to.”

Buffy stretched to plant a kiss at the base of his neck. “We’ve done this before, remember?” she asked. “You won’t hurt me.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he breathed.

She pulled herself up, putting her hands on his shoulders. Her lips brushed his, and Spike responded, kissing her in turn.

Buffy’s hand traveled down to untuck his shirt, and after a minute Spike carefully moved her aside as he sat up and twisted around on the bed. He pushed his jeans down to the floor, and she could hear him tugging at his boots.

While he was busy, Buffy slid to the middle of the bed and shimmied out of her shirt and panties. She crawled under the covers. A second later, Spike joined her.

“I’ll always want you,” he said, sliding over her.

Then he was inside her.
.
.
He would never get tired of the sensation of sinking into something so warm and alive. Never get tired of her.

But there was so much more to her being alive than being warm. The heartbeat that pushed her pulse, the quickening of her breath, the dampening of her skin—everything about her body.

He was careful as Buffy squirmed beneath him, as her body locked around him.

Delicate now—like she’d been the first night they’d shared.

He’d been careful then not to grab her, bruise her. Careful to enjoy her without digging his fingers into her so soft flesh. So careful not to bite her.

Mainly, just to not get too carried away.

It was when they’d first been together in the basement that he’d realized he didn’t have to worry about being too heavy, or too fast, or too hard. Realized that he wouldn’t hurt her by accident.

Lately, they’d been a bit rough with each other more often than not.

But he remembered, remembered how to move—how to give her what she wanted and take what he needed without taking too much. Their union now wasn’t overly gentle, but it was by no means wild.

Buffy had her legs up, hugging his sides without actually wrapping around him. She rocked slowly, her feet tracing up and down the backs of his thighs.

Spike reached back, bringing one of her legs up to hook over his shoulder. Then he moved her other leg. A pleasured gasp escaped her lips as he folded her in half, pressing himself deeper into her.
.
.
Her feet peeked over the edge of the comforter. The air of the room felt cool against her heated skin.

The things he did to her body never disappointed her. Of course, that would have been more of a feat had a greater deal of time had passed. Everything was new between them now.

Secretly, she thought it would never get old.

The way Spike looked at her would also never get old.

There were the everyday looks, of course, and the stares when he thought she wasn’t watching. But then there was the look. The look she’d seen the first time they’d been together. The look he’d given her when they had desperately come together in the basement.

It wasn’t strictly an ‘enjoying sex’ look; Buffy had seen that before. It was deeper than that. Raw. Bare. A look he only wore when he was connected to her in every possible way.

The first time he’d looked at her like that, it was almost like some part of him had had an epiphany, but the rest of him had failed to realize it. As if he had found what he desired most, even if he hadn’t known he was looking for it until that moment.

It had been in that intense instant that she had known Spike would never hurt her. No matter what. She never could have predicted how many ‘no matter whats’ there would be, but she had always known.

The way he was looking at her now—it was like there was nothing in his existence but her.

Buffy was never entirely certain what she had done to deserve such a worshipful gaze. But she knew if she could figure it out, she would never stop doing it.
.
.
When she came, she constricted around him. He quickly followed, spilling into her as her body continued to shake with quiet shudders.

It wasn’t until he felt the flesh of her throat in his mouth that Spike realized he’d slipped into game face. He hadn’t bitten her, though. He lingered on her neck—the feeling of the blood rushing so close to the surface was almost as good.

Slowly, she untangled her legs from around him, sliding them down and open. Her soft little breasts pressed into his chest, arching upward with every breath she took. Remembering that he was still sprawled on top of her, he started to shift.
.
.
Buffy wrapped her arms around him, holding Spike to her. She knew he didn’t like this position; he felt like he was crushing her. But after sex or after blood, she loved the feeling of him unmoving on top of her, the feeling of his weight pressing down on her, anchoring her.

Like this, there was absolutely nothing but the two of them. She was completely covered with him.

However, she realized that while she could have previously stayed this way forever, her current situation wasn’t the same. Having Spike’s dead weight on top of her was not something she was going to be able to manage for long.

After another moment, she pressed her hands to his shoulders. “Okay.”

He slid off, and she took a deep, long breath, filling her lungs up all the way.

Spike lay on his side, one arm draped over her. He was out of game face, but he still hovered near her neck.

“You can if you want to,” Buffy said.

“No.”

“But if you want to, you can. Being the Slayer doesn’t make it hurt less. Just don’t take as much.”

Spike was silent.

“Don’t you want to know what I taste like by myself?”

He seemed to freeze. She had him with that one, she could tell.

“You want me to?” he asked.

“I want to do something for you,” Buffy said. “I want to give you something.”

Finally, Spike moved, crawling to hover over her. His body slowly pressed down on hers, but he kept his weight off her. He glanced at her neck and then looked at her seriously. “You want me to stop, you let me know.”

Buffy rolled her head back, a silent invitation.

Spike leaned down, kissing and nipping at her before he began to suck, bringing the blood to the surface. A moment later, he sank his teeth in.

He jerked back almost immediately, blood-smeared lips curling back from long teeth in distaste. She felt a twinge of pain at the quick removal of his fangs from her flesh.

Buffy wasn’t sure what to think. Am I bad or something?

But before she could ask what was wrong, he spoke.

“You’ve been drugged.”