Chapter 5: Not Like This

“I meant what I said,” she blurted out. She didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t need to.



Spike closed his eyes and sank down on the sofa, collapsing as though he’d lost the energy to hold himself up. “Buffy, please… don’t.”

“Spike…”

Resting his elbows on his knees, Spike raked his hands through his hair, his head bowed low. “Didn’t come here to go over the past.”

“Just… just hear me out, okay?” If he hadn’t come to talk about the past, Buffy wondered, what had he come here for? “I never stopped. Loving you. I thought I would, but…” She took a seat on the couch next to him. “I thought with time… and… you died, twice, but…”

“Doesn’t help, does it?” he said, a soft, patronizing smile on his lips. He’d been so sure, all these years, had never doubted that her last words were words of pity, nothing more. What else was he supposed to think, when only days before she’d been kissing Angel and saying things like, “Does it have to mean something?” and “Maybe when this is over…” when they both knew full well she didn’t expect them to get through it.

He had known she didn’t love him, and he’d made his peace with it, well before the end – told her as much that night in the abandoned house – so it didn’t bother him so much that she would try to send him out with that last comfort. He appreciated the sentiment, but he made sure she knew that he knew the truth.

It was her final gesture, more than anything, that kept him from going after her once he came back. He’d accepted it for what it was – a goodbye – and he didn’t need her to love him back anymore. So, rather than run off and get his heart broken all over again, he chose to stay and do something good in Los Angeles, and let her go on thinking he died a hero.

Seeing her now, Spike was absolutely certain he’d made the wrong decision.

He didn’t understand the woman she had become, couldn’t read her the way he used to. But he couldn’t deny the sincerity and earnestness on her face and in her voice, and it nearly broke his heart.

Buffy shook her head gently, remembering that he had once been in her shoes, had once loved in vain even after the object of his affection was dead and gone. But that was a long time ago, and his feelings for her had apparently turned to ash along with his body in the Hellmouth. Why else wouldn’t he have come for her?

Of course, that begged the question – why was he here now?

“So, um… before,” she said. “You… wanted to talk.”

Spike looked at her for a long moment, a thousand emotions flickering across his face. If she only knew how she’d just made the conversation a million times harder to start. He couldn’t do it – not now, not after this. He’d hoped, dreamed – but the last thing he’d really expected was to hear that she still loved him.

Then, his hands were tangling in her hair, and his lips were pressed against hers, and neither one could remember why they’d ever doubted the other.

“No talking,” he whispered against her skin, abandoning what he’d come there for. It didn’t matter; nothing mattered except that Buffy loved him. “Just this.” Then, he was kissing her again, and the years melted away, until it felt as though they’d never been apart.

Their bodies remembered each other, and rejoiced at the long-awaited reunion. As they made their way into Buffy’s bedroom, their clothing disappeared as swiftly as every other barrier between them, gentling tumbling into a memory so sweet it hardly felt real.

In fact, it wasn’t real, for their memories had never been like this. Never had they come together with such yearning, such tenderness. Spike bathed in her essence, sending her spiraling skyward with his fingers and tongue, still skilled despite their years of untapped talent. And he was there to catch her when she came floating back to earth, filling her up, filling in the cracks in her soul as his body joined with hers. They moved together in an endless rhythm, one that had carried them through years of sorrow, years of pain and suffering, of loneliness and self-doubt, bringing them back full circle to a moment that contained only love.

*****

Buffy snuggled up next to her lover, sated and spent. With one hand splayed on his chest and her head pillowed on his shoulder, she let out a contented sigh. Yeah, okay, they’d kind of skipped the whole “deep, meaningful conversation” thing where they told each other how much they loved and missed each other, and worked through all their unresolved issues… but then, they’d never really been good at the conversation thing to begin with.

This was perfect; Spike was perfect. Except, now that he wasn’t actually driving her to the brink of ecstasy, her stupid brain wouldn’t shut up.

“Spike?” she said finally, tilting her head up to see his face.

He placed a kiss on her upturned nose. “Yes, love?”

She hesitated over the words, unwilling to break the spell, yet unable to rest until she’d spoken. “You – you never came.”

“Sure I did,” he teased her, nuzzling his face against her temple. “Right after you did that thing… Where’d you learn –”

“I mean – to see me,” Buffy broke in, her voice wavering. “After you… I thought…”

Spike sighed. “Came to Rome once, with Angel. Heard you were all cozy with the bloody Immortal, so we left.”

His hand was stroking idly through her hair, and she leaned into his touch. “You never told me you were alive. If I’d known, I would never…”

“I know, pet,” he said soothingly. “Know that now.”

“I thought you didn’t want me, because you didn’t come.”

“Same here, pet.” He looked down at her. “Guess we’re both fools, then, aren’t we? Both waiting for the other, thinkin’ we weren’t loved…”

“But we are,” Buffy murmured. “I love you, Spike.” Her expression grew serious. “And don’t you dare tell me I don’t, or I will kick you out of this bed and leave you naked in the snow.”

Spike’s face broke into a broad smile as he caught the twinkle in her eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” he replied, rolling on top of her and covering her body with his, as he covered her face with kisses. “Love you, Buffy. Always have, always will.”

“Mmm… forever,” Buffy whispered, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him as he entered her once again.

“Forever,” Spike echoed, rocking them together into a slow, blissful climax.

*****

Buffy dropped onto her stomach when her arms and legs dissolved into a quivering mess, Spike collapsing on top of her, his weight solid on her back as he pulled out with a groan.

“You’re so gentle,” she remarked, thinking back to when he used to pound into her mercilessly from behind. “Even like this. You never used to be.”

“You never let me be gentle, pet,” Spike reminded her quietly, pressing soft kisses along one shoulder, as light fingertips traced a path down the pebbles of her spine. “Liked it better when – when I… hurt you.”

“It made it easier,” Buffy admitted, rolling over to look at him. “Easier to pretend it didn’t… mean anything. But if you were sweet to me, I couldn’t… I didn’t…”

She broke off, her eyes squeezed shut as though holding back tears. Spike lifted one hand up to brush her hair out of her face and kiss her forehead. Before he could muster up the comforting words, though, a wicked grin crossed her face. “But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to, you know… hurt me, a little bit.”

“Don’t wanna break you,” Spike replied, kissing a trail between her breasts to her stomach.

Buffy giggled. “Slayer, silly.”

But that wasn’t what he meant, and as his lips dotted across her skin, he was glad she couldn’t see the expression on his face.

*****

Spike leaned back against the headboard, his legs sprawled out in front of him. He longed for a smoke, but he knew Buffy wouldn’t allow it. His eyes raked over her body, splayed bonelessly at his side, her feet resting on the pillow next to him, her head near his ankle, where she was teasing him with soft licks and nibbles.

He let one hand slide up his hardening shaft, running his thumb over the head as he fixated on Buffy’s tongue, darting out and leaving shiny trails on his skin. She caught him touching himself and, with a giggle, tilted her head and sucked his big toe into her mouth. Spike’s eyes rolled up, and he began to stroke harder and faster.

“You like that?” Buffy asked, smiling mischievously.

“Could watch your wicked tongue all day, pet.”

“Watch this,” she replied, flipping around and laying across his leg. Her small hands came around his, gently taking over his motion as she flicked her tongue across the tip of his cock.

Spike groaned, and his hand left hers to tangle in her short hair. “God, pet… yeah, like that,” he murmured, as she began to work her mouth farther down his shaft, her hands sliding down to his balls. She’d hardly ever done this for him during their short time together; it was beneath her. The few times she’d consented, it was almost as though she were doing it to punish herself. He got off all the same – not like he could withstand her precious little mouth – but there was never any joy in it.

But this – with her tasting him so earnestly, her eyes so hopeful, so desperate to please – was a sensation he’d never felt before.

Spike’s hips arched off the bed, thrusting himself deeper into her mouth. Moaning a stream of unintelligible words, he gripped the headboard behind him with one hand, the other pressing her head to his crotch. She swallowed around him, her throat tightening against his cock, and then he succumbed, releasing into her with shudder and a mix of colorful obscenities.

Then, she was in his lap, straddling him, and his cock was hardening again before it even had a chance to go fully flaccid. She lifted her hips, squirming until he was inside her again, and then sinking back down against him, her chest pressed against his.

“Do you forgive me?” Buffy asked softly, her forehead touching his as she began to move with him.

Spike’s brow furrowed. “Nothing to forgive, pet.”

“Of course there is! So many things I…”

“Hurt each other plenty, didn’t we? Let’s just call it even and move on, yeah?”

“But if I hadn’t been so…” Buffy made a disgusted face. “If I’d been better to you, maybe you’d have believed me, and you wouldn’t have stayed away so long.”

Spike grasped both sides of her face in his hands. “Here now, aren’t I? ’S what matters.”

“Spike, I…”

The seriousness of her expression stilled his movement. “What is it, love?”

Buffy gazed into his searching eyes, as he tried to understand her sudden melancholic turn. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them. She dropped her eyes to his chest and rolled her hips to resume their rhythm. “Nothing. Just… I love you.”

*****

As soon as Spike had fallen asleep, Buffy slipped out of his arms and crept to the bathroom. Her shaking fingers fumbled with the prescription bottle until she managed to get the cap off. Gulping down two pills with a swallow of water, she gazed at herself in the mirror, taking in her reflection. She was glowing, in a way she hadn’t for years, and she looked, despite the lines, almost like the young girl she’d been when Spike first wormed his way into her life and into her heart.

Suddenly, the face in the mirror crumpled, and she gripped the sink as harsh sobs wracked her small frame. This was wrong, all of it, so wrong. She shouldn’t be lying here with him. He shouldn’t even be here at all. Not now, not like this. He deserved better than what she could give him. She hadn’t even been able to be honest with him.

After splashing water on her face and patting dry with a towel, Buffy crept back to the bed and snuggled up against Spike. He let out a puff of unneeded breath and unconsciously wrapped his arms around her again. But as she settled into the pillow of his body, she couldn’t sleep. Her heart ached, guilt gnawing at her conscience for what she’d kept from him. She longed to tell him the truth, to open herself up and confide in him; but she couldn’t bring herself to form the words.

It wasn’t fair to him, to welcome him back into her bed, to allow what they’d just done, knowing what she knew, knowing how it would hurt him. No – it would destroy him.

But she was selfish. She wanted him to stay.