Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
Lovesbitch91

Chapter Six: Elsewhere

“I know this love is passing time,
Passing through like liquid,
I’m drunk on my desires.
But I love the way you smile at me
I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near.”

This is what she’d missed. How could she have forgotten? The thrill of it; the mounting excitement and explosive release. The ground whipped by beneath her feet, the trees a blur in her peripheral vision. In her mind and eyes and focus was one thing. The kill.

Her target was losing ground. She was close enough now to tackle him, and she did. Bearing all her strength down upon him, he fell beneath her. She tumbled over him, rising quickly to her feet and confronting him, fists raised.

There was no witty banter to fill the silence as he rose to meet her blows. As soon as he’d settled into his stance, she swung out at him with both fists. The blows met their marks, pushing him a step back.

This was good. This was her, unleashing all that pent up emotion and anger onto his body, pummeling him with her fists, and taking it back. Every move she made, he attempted to block, and retaliated with his own enhanced strength. And when she grew tired of the fight, she produced a stake and knocked him backwards with a quick blow. Stab, poof, done. The cloud of ash enveloped her for a moment, before it was carried away on the wind. Buffy straightened up, tucking the stake into the waistband of her jeans.

“An’ so another one bites the dust.” Spike had appeared out of nowhere, hovering near a drooping oak tree, ever-present cigarette lit between his lips. He took a last drag and flicked it away, the tiny glowing ember spinning off into the dark distance. “Feelin’ better after that, luv?” She fell into step with him silently; hands in her pockets, content look on her face.

“Much better. With a side of okay and a dash of peachy.” It was an experience, to be sure, seeing her all happy and bright, flying on that high that only comes with a good fistfight. There was no hint of sadness about her now, as she bounded along beside him.

But Spike knew it was still in her, that constant unhappiness that would rear up at a moment’s notice and transform her into a weak, mewling puddle of tears and longing. But this was good, right now, and he’d savor it later on.

******

“Buffy! Hey, haven’t been seeing you around lately!” Willow had caught her friend on the way out the door. She noted the dark circles beneath the Slayer’s eyes and her general weariness. But Buffy smiled, closing the door and turning to confront the witch.

“Seems like it, huh? Guess it’s been all the patrol - picking up the slack from the last couple months, when I was gone.” For some reason Buffy can’t explain, she feels jittery around the witch. Her blood fizzles at the proximity of her, even though Willow’s all smiles and happiness. Like she doesn’t know this girl, her best friend since forever. Like they’re two strangers, making small talk, and she finds she’s slightly scared of her. Perhaps it’s the old resentment she’s been feeling, the anger towards her friends rising up in her.

“It was hard, those few months. But you’d have been proud,” Willow smiled, stepped closer to Buffy. For a moment, she seemed about to reach out to her, but then her hand stilled and a small frown crossed her brows. “We’ve been worried about you, Buff. You haven’t been around much. And I know Dawn misses you; she never sees you between her school and your patrols. But I just wanted to make sure, let you know, that we missed you, and we know it’s taking some time to get adjusted.”

Buffy tried to force a smile, and it came eventually without the emotion. She nodded, let her eyes grow bright. “Of course. Time and adjusting and I’ll be good as new. Just been needing to work out some glitches is all. But really, we should have a Scooby night. Just the gang. Maybe we could go dancing at the Bronze?”

What was she doing? She didn’t want to go dancing, had no real desire to sit around with her friends and joke as if everything was sunshine and daisies, like she wasn’t still ripped up inside. She just wanted to run away from them all, go hide somewhere they couldn’t find her.

But Willow was smiling so brightly, obviously pleased that she’d wrung some response from her. She was proving to herself that she was right; right to bring Buffy back from the dead, right to stop her in the hall and ask her how life was going. Buffy didn’t know this Willow anymore, didn’t know Xander or Anya. Even the rare moments when she sat with Dawn on the couch were forced, unpleasant. And she realized how far she’d distanced herself from them in her own self-pity and anger.

“That sounds great, Buffy. I’ll tell Xander and Anya and we’ll go some night this week,” Willow grinned and sprung forward to hug her. Buffy smiled back, hugged her tightly. Told her of course, it would be fun. They’d not hung out in a while, and it was past-due, for sure.

And then Buffy pulled away. Her hand itched to wrap itself around the door knob and wrench it open, run away from this red-head that looked like Willow, talked like Willow. But this wasn’t her best friend, and she couldn’t catch onto that feeling of trust and love she knew had existed before. So she smiled, said she had to go, that she had errands to run.

“Yeah, yeah of course Buffy! I’m about to go, too. Just wanted to see that you’re okay.” And then she was gone, and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. As she looked towards the door Willow had just exited, a twisted feeling pervaded her gut.

What happened to her life, while she was gone? She used to be happy; she’d loved these people, connected with them. When she’d died, it had been for them. Everything had been for them, that the world would be a better place to live in. Now she hated them, and their presence made her sick with fear. And the person she’d feared and hated most was the only one she could stand to be around.

******

“It’s bullshit! I can’t stand to be around my own friends because they’re so wrapped up in their own selves, so proud; ‘Oh, we brought Buffy back from the dead, yay us!’ They don’t even think about it; what they did, what it really means.”

She stormed around the crypt, arms flailing as she ranted. Spike merely watched her over his tumbler of pig’s blood, a bemused expression on his face. This was an improvement, her tantrums; all her anger, spitting out of that pretty little mouth like razor blades.

“How could they even think I was in hell? I’m the Slayer, goddammit! Don’t I deserve heaven?” She turned her face from him, hiding the hot tears. He tsk’d under his breath, rising to his feet. She resisted him, as he tried to pull her in close. “And the most fucked up thing? What makes it worse? Is that I’d rather be here, with you, than with my own friends…”

He raised a hand, smoothing away the hot tears. She met his eyes hesitantly, her mouth a small crease of worry. “They don’t understand, love. Your bloody friends… thick in the head, all of them. But I’m here, an’ I’m not leaving you. Not ‘till you’ve bloody well killed me.”

Bloodyfuckinhell. She was holding onto him again, pressing her mouth urgently to his, sucking the very life from him with her fervent kisses. Her hot little hands pulled him closer, held him tighter. And he gripped her just as close, just as tightly, kissing her back. BuffyBuffyBuffy.

It was unreal, the sensation of her pressed tight to him, arms wrapped around his neck as she tried to meld her skin into his. And then they were tumbling backwards, amid an array of the debris that littered the crypt floor. There was dust in his eye, something sharp digging into his side. But he didn’t care, not as long as she was kissing him like this, so full of desperation and longing and pure want.

Her hands were wrestling with his jeans, shoving them down, freeing his erection. Her own skirt had slid up around her waist, exposing her silk panties to his fingers as he sought her out through the fabric. Her breath was coming in sharp, hard pants, her eyes glazed over as she kissed his mouth and cheek and along his jaw. Fighting through the barrier of clothing, his fingers found her wet folds, and she squirmed up against his hand.

All that blood, hot and heated, rushing through her veins. His mouth found her neck, at that sweet place where the blood pumped strongest, surging up against the skin. He kissed it, bit at it with blunt teeth as she reached between them for his engorged shaft. She brought the drooling tip to her pussy, rubbing the silken head against her swollen folds as he bucked uncontrollably, lost in the ecstasy of her touch, the scent of her blood.

And then he was sheathed up inside her, her inner muscles flexing around him, squeezing him tight. He moaned into her neck. “Bloody… fuck, Buffy,” he ground out into her ear, as he pumped hard into her. She lifted a leg, hooking her ankle over his shoulder.

As she did, he buried his face into her neck, mouthing at it with blunt teeth. The scraping of his canines against her flesh caused her to moan, arching into him. Her fingers twisted into his hair, holding his mouth to her as she slid into a hard, rocking orgasm. His mouth remained locked around her neck, forming a perfect seal without ever breaking skin as he continued to pump himself within her.

And then he bit down, and came hard within her.

Before he knew it, blood was pumping, hot and powerful, into his mouth, sending them both reeling as she immediately seized up around him for a second time. At once he pulled away, mouth stained red and a look of panic in his eyes.

“Buffy, the chip-”

She scrambled away, turning out of his arms and staring, dumbfounded, at his red stained lips. He at once slipped out of game face, though the apprehension didn’t melt from her face.

“It can’t be.”

“It is.”

“What do we do? I mean, is it just me, or-”

“Dunno.”

She was struck by how not eager to go out and kill he was, but was instead more upset about her reaction. He was, in fact, practically shaking, one hand pressed to his temple. It was beginning to creep into her mind that he had changed, for her more than anything. She crawled across the bed to him, taking his face into his hands and smiling.

“We’ll figure it out.” She kissed him softly, and when she pulled away to nestle in his arms, he stared at her, unsure he’d really heard what she said..

He seemed silenced, without words to answer.“What was that, pet? Buffy?”

But her eyes were falling closed; her arms warm against his skin as she twined herself around him and sunk swiftly into sleep.

******

Xander didn’t normally come through this particular cemetery, and especially not on Halloween. But the search party had been instigated by Giles to find Dawn, and Xander had been volunteered by Willow for Spike-duty.

Not that he didn’t enjoy every opportunity to tease and belittle the peroxide pain-in-his ass, but he wasn’t fond of searching him out to ask for his help, either. He half-wished that Spike wouldn’t be in, but instead with Buffy on patrol. But then, of course, that would mean he was around Buffy.

“Creep,” he muttered, approaching the crypt. He’d known of the vampire’s sick fascination with Buffy since it had begun last year. Always in subtle clues, but if anyone knew what a Buffy-crush looked like, it was Xander. Hell, he still got a little too excited when he saw her in a bikini, or dancing around at the Bronze. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Anya; he did, with his whole heart. But Buffy… she was every man’s crush.

And, as he pushed the crypt door open, wrapped up in the arms of Spike. The sight of them, asleep in a flurry of dust and odd-ends that littered the floor, released a flood of agony in Xander. At once he shut the door between them, setting off for Revello Drive.

******

“Willow? You here?” Xander slammed the door behind him, turning right into the dining room to find Giles and Dawn seated at the table, full of grim faces and sour expressions. “Oh, you found Dawn. Meanwhile, I just happened to walk in on Spike and -” At once Giles cut him off, rising abruptly and ushering him into the hallway.

“So you know, then?” Giles eyed Xander warily, whose expression grew incredulous in return.

“You knew? And you’re letting her do it anyway? I mean, I understand she’s having a hard time – we’ve all noticed – but sleeping with Spike? Not seeing how that’s going to make things better.”

“Xander, I am not her father, nor am I her Watcher. Buffy’s decisions are her own, as are her reasons.” He paused to remove his glasses, perform the expected by wiping them clean, and replaced them. “But you will not interfere. Do you understand?”

Xander gawked, eyes bulging comically out of his face. His mouth opened and closed in a desperate attempt at words, and a moment later he was gone, banging the door loudly behind him. Giles stared after him for a moment, rubbing his temples, before turning back to Dawn.

******

Buffy woke up a sometime in the early morning, still wrapped within Spike’s unmoving embrace. Finding her brand-new cell phone in her jean’s pocket, she dialed the house number, fingers crossed that Tara would answer.

“Hello?”

“Tara! Hey, I have something I need you to find out or me…”

******

“She’s whatting who?”

Xander had a hangdog air about him, sitting with his head in his hands across from Willow. She suspected he’d been drinking from his sour breath, and his hair was unkempt.

“Spike. Fucking Spike,” he spit the words out, face twisted into a disgusted grimace. “I walked in on them last night, when we were looking for Dawn.” He turned away from Willow, slamming his fist into the table. Willow sat, contemplative, a frown etched into her lips.

“Have you talked to Buffy about it?”

“Yeah, well what do I say? ‘Hey Buff, how’s sex with the Undead? Again?’ We can’t let her do this to herself. Not after Angel.”

“So… what do we do?”

The two sat across from each other, heads hung. Willow picked at a loose thread protruding from the comforter of her bed, forehead rumpled in thought.

“We could always kill Spike,” Xander offered at last. Willow gave him an exasperated look.

“Well, maybe we should just talk to her, y’know? But subtly, and without the confrontation? Maybe at the Bronze tomorrow night – you are coming, right?” Willow was smiling widely, happy with her suggestion.

“Yeah. Ahn’s doing dress shopping with her demon friends. Which, have you seen what vengeance demons look like? D’you think Anya…?” He shuddered violently, ridding himself of the mental image.

“Great. Just the four of us, then.” Xander rose to leave, his angered expression gone. He bent to hug Willow quickly around the shoulders and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Bye, Wills. Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, of course.”

******

Buffy sat on the couch, arms wrapped around herself. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she could breathe freely. Tara had just left, leaving some notes on the coffee table that seemed too complex for Buffy.

It was just her, as far as Tara could tell, that the chip failed on. And no, it didn’t mean she was a demon, but had something of a “cellular tan”… something like that.

When Tara had politely questioned Buffy as to why she needed the information, Buffy had felt such an urge to confide that the entire tale spurted out of her – while leaving out the whole “I was in Heaven” tirade.

And Tara had smiled, hugged her; practically giving her blessings and approval.

It felt nice, she thought, that someone should know the secret she’d been harboring so long.

******

Coming to the Bronze wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.

No, not after she’d spotted Spike, hovering above them all on the catwalk. His blue eyes were so dark, staring out at her from that pale face covered in shadows. Willow and Tara and Xander were lost in the sea of dancers, but she had hung back, holding her plastic cup close and contenting herself with watching them.

But now she set the cup down, made her way up the steps towards him.

“Enjoying the view?” she asked, coming to stand next to him, looking down at the dance floor. He was gazing at her, though, his eyes dark and lustful.

“I am now.” She blushed, smiling to herself. The music was changing now, the lights dimming. Some slow song full of rhythm and lyrical expression was filling the air now, and he extended a hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

******

Xander joined Willow back at the table, sending Tara off for refills. They huddled together, looking around the dance hall.

“Where’d she go?” Xander asked first, scanning the crowd. Willow shrugged, turning her face upwards.

“Oh. Ohhh. I’m thinking up. On the catwalk. With Spike.”

******

Her fingers were curled into the soft hairs at the base of his neck, face tilted upwards to look him in the face. Their bodies were held close by his hands, the fingers digging into her hips. They weren’t really dancing, simply moving side to side with the music, more absorbed with each other than the rhythm. He dipped his mouth to hers, captured and held her with a kiss.

It was like high school all over, kissing and holding in the shadows, hiding as if it were a game not to be caught. Which, really, was an issue. Xander and Willow and Tara were probably looking for her, and she could care less.

Nothing was more important than this, not now. She couldn’t care less if Angel himself showed up, if Riley were whispering in her ear. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face.

“Happy? You finally got your dance.” She had remembered his offers from before, how he’d asked her to dance and she’d rejected him. But it was good now, and she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. He smiled down at her, too.

“Very.”

******

Willow couldn’t stop Xander, only watch as he bolted from the table and up the stairs. She followed behind him, weaving through the crowd to the staircase leading upwards onto the catwalk.

He stopped at the top of the staircase, looking across the narrow catwalk at them. Her arms, thrown around his neck and face smiling up into his. His fingers, grasping her tight against him as he kissed her. Xander stormed across the catwalk, shoving Spike away from Buffy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Xander shoved him again, spitting his words out as he shouted the vampire down. Buffy took half a moment to recover, before flinging herself a Xander.

“Xander! Stop it, now.” She came to stand between them, a hand to Xander’s chest and her back to Spike. Xander deflated instantly, stepping back.

“I see how it is. Protecting him now?” he sneered. There was a fiery anger in his eye, and he seemed antsy to lay his hands on Spike, beat at him as hard as he could with his balled fists.

Buffy raised her hands to him, taking a step closer. “Xander, it’s not what it looks like. I mean - ”

“Not what it looks like, luv? Then what is it?” Spike had spoken up, anger painting his features as he pushed Buffy aside, turning her to face him. “I’m worth your bed, but not your friends?”

“Spike, don’t say that.” Everyone seemed to be attacking her, throwing accusations of disloyalty and hurt at her. And five minutes ago everything had been fine, wonderful. But Spike shouldered past her, stormed off the catwalk. She was left facing those two who were supposed to be her best friends. But Xander had a disgusted face himself, and he followed quickly after Spike.

And then it was just Buffy and Willow, who stood still near to the head of the stairs. Her hands were clasped before her, and she studied Buffy with an uncomprehending look.

“How could you, Buffy? It’s Spike…” Her eyes flashed dark for a minute, and she met Buffy’s eyes. “We’re not good enough for you? We brought you out of hell, Buffy. We saved you. And instead of thanking me, instead of showing the people who love you the most how grateful you are, you sleep with Spike? What’s wrong with you?”

And then she disappeared down the stairs, and Buffy was left alone, suspended over the sea of happy people; all smiles and warmth and love as they danced and crooned along with the band, so happy in their own existence.

******

They all went silent when she walked into the Magic Box. Dawn and Adia looked up first, sitting together at the table. Willow caught her eye, looking up with a frown on her face, while Tara looked abashed and glanced away. Xander tore himself away from Anya’s side, advancing halfway across the room before Giles and Anya had the chance to look away from their ledgers.

“Able to tear yourself away from Spike’s lips for longer than two seconds?” Xander sneered, his lips pulled back in disgust and anger. Buffy crossed her arms defiantly about herself, looking around the room. Her eyes settled on Willow, and she stepped closer.

“You are all so selfish, thinking I should bend down and kiss your feet. You don’t know anything about what it’s like for me, being back here. You don’t know what you’ve done, what you’re talking about.”

“What are you taking about?” Dawn was on the verge of being frantic, oblivious to the rift between her sister and her friends. She stood up, came to stand behind Xander, uncertainty fixed in her eyes.

“You thought I was in Hell. Thought I was being tortured, and that I was damned.” Her eyes were so wide and pained, even as her voice filled with anger. “I wasn’t.”

The room seemed at once to contract around her. Willow raised a hand to her mouth, gasped sharply. Everyone else seemed stilled in their collective shock.

“Where were you?” Xander’s voice had lost its hard edge, gone all limp and sad. His eyes, too, were round and disbelieving. Buffy looked to him, hardly bearing to meet his gaze.

“I think I was in Heaven.”

******

His hands were swimming in front of his face as he steadied himself against the side of the mausoleum. A brown bag, concealing a near-empty bottle of Jack, swung from his right hand. He lifted it to his lips, dashing it to the ground after he had swigged the last mouthful. Stumbling towards the crypt, he could here her moving around, waiting for him.

“An’ so she is, here to torment me endlessly,” he muttered to himself, throwing open the door. She rose swiftly from the armchair in which she had just sat, wringing her hands nervously.

“I told them,” she blurted, before he could even open his mouth. “I-I told them about Heaven. How I was in it. And about you. Me, and you.”

“Yeah?” Fuck, he was drunk, but he wasn’t going to show it to her. Instead he stood apart from her, watching her fumble with her words. “Told them about what we do? How we fuck? How you let me bite you?” His eyes flicked to her neck, and then her face, aware of how his words were spilling rather stupidly out of his mouth. But it merely made her more nervous.

“I did. I told them that we were together, that we were sleeping together.”

“You did?”

“And that it wasn’t going to change.” She met his eyes, uncertain of herself and searching him for affirmation. “It’s not, is it?”

He couldn’t stand aloof from her another second. Instead, he dropped his sharp tone, and his eyes softened. He was before her immediately, capturing her mouth in a kiss as he gathered her close in his arms. She seemed to exhale a long-held breath, and a smile spread across her face.

“Thank God, I don’t know what I would’ve done…” She nuzzled closer to him, kissing his neck and mouth and cheeks.

“We alright then, love?” He pulled away to look her in the eye, his own so full of a need to be reassured. She smiled, shrugged a bit.

“They’re not exactly cheering our names, but they’ll get over it. They kinda have to.”

She was kissing him again, and he couldn’t believe he’d really been furious with her not two minutes before. Now they were tumbling over onto the sarcophagus, and her breathing was getting heavy, her eyes dark with desire. He flipped her onto her back, grinding against that flutter of heat between her legs.

She continued to kiss him, tongue exploring his mouth between sharp nibbles from her blunt teeth on his lip. She seemed desperate for him, pressing her body to his. And then she pulled away, just for a moment, to look into his eyes. Her face was flushed, hair coming undone around her shoulders, and her pretty pink lips were blooming into a smile as he pressed his mouth to her ear.

“This is my Heaven.”


“I believe this is heaven to no one else but me
And I’ll defend it long as I can be
Left here to linger in silence if I choose to
Would you try to understand it?”