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64 Touches
 
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Chapter 64 - Touches

Buffy had eaten breakfast while her mother worriedly fussed over her. She supposed she couldn’t blame her. It was bad enough when Joyce just knew what she did; now that she’d seen what could happen, Buffy expected her to be on worry-overload for a while.

After her mother had finally left for work, Buffy had fallen back asleep. She didn’t have class on Thursdays, not that she would have gone if she had.

She woke up to a ringing noise, which she recognized as her phone. It was Willow, who was at the front door and unable to get in. Buffy told her to go around back. She hoped the back door was open, because she really didn’t feel like dragging herself downstairs.

A moment later, she heard Willow coming up the stairs.

“Hi, Buffy, how’re you feeling?” she asked, sticking her head in.

“Better. What time is it?”

“Just before three.”

Three?” Buffy grimaced slightly and propped herself up. “Talk about your marathon sleeping.”

“Guess you needed it. Oh, I brought you some special ointment. It’s the kind I made to help with the scarring. Some oil, some vitamins, and just a little bit of witchy blessings.”

“Thanks.” She watched as Willow set the jar on the dresser. “Say, how are you at blood and ick?”

“Um, not wonderful, but okay. Why?”

“Think you could get the first aid kit from the bathroom and change my bandage? Giles has got it winding all the way around and I’m not sure if I can do it yet. And I can’t have Mom worrying more than she already is. I should have asked Spike to—oh, Spike! I was going to call you last night. I’m sorry about Spike bothering you at the Bronze. But he’s really not going to hurt you. He was just…being Spike. He’s, um, got a sick sense of humor. But—”

“Buffy, I believe you about Spike,” she said, sitting down on the bed.

“What exactly about Spike?”

“Pretty much anything you wanna tell me about Spike.” She shrugged. “Not that I didn’t before—I mean, I did, but I was still sort of careful, you know? But, last night…you didn’t see the way he was looking at you. Buffy, he’d do anything you asked.”

Buffy looked down. “He wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know. He looked really worried. I mean, he wasn’t worried you were gonna die, cause he was the one who said you didn’t need a transfusion. It was more an oh-god-I-almost-lost-her worried.”

“Well, I mean, I know he likes me.”

“Buffy, I like you, and I’m sure my face didn’t look like that.”

“Okay, so he more than likes me.” She paused. “I just don’t know where we stand. Last night we had this huge fight, and now it’s like it never happened. Picking me up from Giles’s, doing little things for me… Except he’s still sort of being weird. He acted like he wanted to stay and talk or something, but then he didn’t.”

“He looked really worried,” Willow repeated. “It was like, like you were the only thing in the room. He didn’t even see Giles; he barely saw me.”

“Spike hasn’t mentioned what happened. Not really.”

“Do the talky thing.”

“I guess. He’ll be back later.”

Spike hadn’t said he was coming back, but she knew he would.

-----

It was after dark when Spike climbed up to Buffy’s room. The window was open, like she was expecting him.

Buffy was sitting at her vanity, her profile to him. He knew she realized that he was there, but she made no movement, only kept staring into the mirror. Her hair was twisted up in a clip and the bandage was unwound from her neck. A first aid kit was open in front of her.

Spike slowly walked over and sank down on his knees beside her. She twisted to look at him. Putting light fingers on her chin, he turned her head until he could clearly see the left side of her neck.

The wound was closed and on its way to healing. But it still looked ugly. There were two long curving scabs that traced over her skin in dotted lines. The flesh around them was purple and bruised.

Buffy glanced back in the mirror. “It looks so different than when you do it.”

He didn’t know how to respond. “I—”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“I’m so sorry, Buffy,” he blurted. “Sorry he hurt you, sorry I wasn’t there—”

“Spike, it’s not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “It’s not my fault. It’s just, bad luck. Bad timing.”

Spike slowly leaned in, brushing his lips across her cheek, and kissing his way to her ear. “I’m still sorry,” he whispered. “It shouldn’t have happened to you.” He slid his head down, planting feather light kisses along her jaw and down the unmarked side of her throat.

Then he froze, lips open against her skin. The last thing she probably wanted was a vampire on her neck.

He jerked back, but Buffy’s hand came up to the back of his head. “It’s okay,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “It’s you.”

The pressure against his head became more insistent, and Spike let her guide him back. His mouth trailed down her neck, exploring the hollow of her throat, slowly tracing to the edge of her collarbone. Then he turned his head to the side, letting his cheek brush over her shoulder as he slid down her arm.

Pausing at the smooth skin in the middle of her arm, he pressed his lips into the fold of her elbow before unhurriedly dragging his mouth down. His teeth lightly scraped over the skin on her wrist as he opened her hand.

Spike looked up at Buffy as he kissed her palm. She had her eyes closed and had a relaxed look on her face. He turned her hand over, pressing his lips to the other side of it as she opened her eyes to look at him.

He lowered her hand back to her lap and straightened up to look at her.

“What was that for?” she whispered.

“Because.”

Spike reached out to tilt her head to the side again.

“I need to put the bandage back on,” she said.

“I will.”

She didn’t need any more antiseptic, but he gently applied cream from the jar she said Willow had given her. Buffy sat perfectly still as his fingers ghosted over her skin. There was no more need for pressure on the wound, so he taped a square bandage in place and put the long fabric strips back into the kit.

Then Spike reached up and opened the clip at the back of her head, letting her hair fall down.

“All done, pet.”

“Thank you.” She carefully twisted her head, freeing her hair the rest of the way. “I never thanked you, not really.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to.”

For some reason, Spike was unable to tear his eyes away from the spot on her neck, even though it was covered.

“Did it—” He wasn’t going to ask if it had hurt. He knew it had hurt. “What did you—were you—” Bad enough that she had been alone. But he couldn’t stand it if she had been alone and frightened.

“Was I scared?” she asked. “Not really. I knew what was happening, and I didn’t want it to happen, but I didn’t have time to be scared. I was fighting him, and then I wasn’t.”

Spike surprised himself, saying, “I was scared. That you were going to die in front of me.”

There was a long pause as she looked at him.

“I didn’t think I was going to die,” she said. “I didn’t think I was going to live. There was nothing but right then. No thoughts, no feeling but him in my neck.”

Her eyes were suddenly full of water.

“I thought maybe it would just go on forever. That it wouldn’t end. Wouldn’t stop.”

She blinked rapidly as she seemed to realize it, looking a little stunned. “Maybe I was a little scared,” she whispered.

Then she moved, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face against his as her chin found his shoulder.

She held on to him for silent minutes. She shook twice, and then grasped at him in a death grip, like she never wanted to let him go. He wanted to say something, anything, to let her know that he was there. But he was afraid it would sound like he was reassuring himself that she was really there.

He settled for holding her back just as tightly.

She didn’t ask him to stay, and he didn’t say that he had intended to. But it was understood.

When she finally went limp against him, Spike turned off the lamp and pulled her up with him as he stood. They fell together on the bed, and he tugged the comforter up to cover her. She melted into him with a sigh, resting her head against his chest.

Spike wrapped both arms around her.

“Everything’s fine,” he breathed. He wasn’t sure which one of them he was saying it to.

She answered. “It is now.”
 
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