Chapter 48 – The Book of Love
The book of love is
long and boring
No one can lift the
damn thing
It’s full of charts
and figures and instructions for dancing
But I love it when you
read to me
And you can read me
anything
Peter Gabriel
Spike sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers drifting across Buffy’s shoulder. She was sound asleep, tucked against Faith, resembling a child after a nightmare who’d crawled in with her parents. Except Buffy’s nightmares never ended, and every day she dealt with monsters of the human and demon type. He wished he could keep them at bay for her, god knew he’d been trying for years, but even he couldn’t make the world a happy place for her.
“She’ll be okay,” Faith whispered, opening her eyes to gaze at him.
“Will she?” Spike asked, brushing back the hair from Faith’s face. He tilted his head as he realized how warm her skin felt. Sometimes he almost forgot. “You taking care of her for me?”
“I tried,” Faith said, leaning on one elbow above the subject of their conversation. “She seems so lost. All she wants is to feel safe, and I wish I could give her that.”
“You and me both,” Spike replied, with a wry chuckle. “It’s her fear that chokes me sometimes. But I’ve always loved her, and I try to make her happy,” he paused, and then sighed. “But I can’t do it.”
“It’s something she’ll have to figure out on her own.”
Spike nodded. He knew it was true; it was just hard sometimes to accept. He was supposed to be her savior and he wasn’t. He couldn’t. Not anymore. There were too many other things to do, and besides he was tired. Not tired of Buffy, or their marriage, but tired of always trying and it never being enough. He kissed his wife’s cheek, and then stood.
“I need to talk to Angel,” Spike said. “If you need us, we’ll be in the study.”
“Okay,” Faith said, settling back into the bed.
Spike waited until Faith’s eyes drifted closed again before he left the room. Angel was waiting for him, but Spike hesitated outside Cordelia’s room. He stared at the door as if he could see through it. He didn’t need to, the rasp of the oxygen machine, and the beeping of the IV machine told him all he desired to know. Cordelia was still hanging on. He held his breath listening for her heartbeat. It gave a soft thud, paused for almost too long, before it gave another weak beat.
He couldn’t imagine how it would feel if it was Buffy lying near death. Memories of that long summer without her clenched at his heart, and almost brought him to his knees. During even their most difficult times, just knowing Buffy was somewhere out there always brought him a measure of comfort. How could he ever let her go again? He couldn’t, and he wondered if he’d done everything he could to reassure her of his love? He’d just told Faith that Buffy’s fear weighed heavier on their relationship then their love, but was it true? Did she know in her head, not her heart, of how much he loved her?
It was a question worthy of soul searching, but one that was too overwhelming to deal with at this time.
“Spike, is…is everything all right?” Angel asked, his large frame filling the hallway, and blocking the light, thus casting everything into shadows between them.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Spike was quick to reassure the other man. He slipped into his demon visage so that he could see his Sire better in the darkness. “I was just checking on Cordy. She’s sleeping.”
The sigh of relief Angel gave was clearly visible as his frame shuddered, and he rubbed his cheek. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. There would be no rest for Angel until his wife passed away. Nor could he ask for any measure of peace without being racked with guilt. It had to be an impossible road to walk, and one that made Spike regret every wish of harm he’d ever uttered toward the other vampire.
Spike stepped toward Angel, squeezing his shoulder with one hand, hoping that it conveyed his sympathy and support for his Sire. Together they turned and walked into the study. An unspoken destination for the talk between them. Spike was looking forward to relishing every word of the tale of how Angel defeated the monster who tried to harm Raven. Grinning, Spike plopped into his usual chair, draping one leg over the arm, while Angel took the seat next to him. This time they skipped the ritual of the whiskey they shared in these moments of victory. Everything in their lives was too volatile to risk not being clearheaded.
“Well, come on, Angel,” Spike prodded. “How did it feel to close him down? Did you make sure that he knew he’d messed with the wrong man’s daughter?” His exhilaration was dampened when Angel suddenly leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. Something was wrong. Spike’s feet hit the floor, his body tensing for the news he knew he wasn’t going to like.
“No,” Angel said. His voice is so quiet that Spike almost couldn’t hear him.
Spike’s mind told him that he should be enraged, ready to fight for his daughter’s honor, and to defend his territory by making sure Angel knew he was wrong by letting it go. Instead, he was filled with weariness. He didn’t want to fight. He was tired of the constant battles, being angry, and a disappointment that had become almost too much to bear. He whispered a tortured why as tears splashed onto his hands that were clenching his thighs. The last twenty-four hours of his life had finally broken him in so many ways.
All he wanted was peace. Closing his eyes, he searched his mind for the last time that he felt happiness…a real delight in living. It came to him in a blinding clarity of remembrance; the day they were riding in the mountains. Buffy holding him tight as he maneuvered his motorcycle through the winding roads. The view had been breathtaking and his woman even more so as she let him know that she felt safe in his care. He yearned for that moment again. He looked up when he realized that Angel was speaking again.
“I have to prove my loyalty to the Senior Partners,” Angel was explaining in a hushed tone. “If I’d closed down the nightclub it would have proven to them that I had a loyalty stronger than the one I had for them.”
“What in soddin’ hell are you trying to accomplish?”
“I know I can’t defeat them, but I can give them a big kick in the ass. Mess up their plans for awhile.”
“It’s always going to be there,” Spike commented, leaning back into the chair. He stared with disinterested resolve at the ceiling. “No matter how many times we think we’ve defeated evil, it always comes back stronger than ever.”
“Maybe, but I can put a big dent in their operation. Make them start from scratch again,” Angel said. He paused for a second. “Make Cordy’s death stand for something.”
“And you’ll die in the bleedin’ process.”
“If necessary.”
“You know what,” Spike shouted, jumping to his feet. He pointed at Angel. “It’s a bloody excuse so you don’t have to face the future without your wife.”
“Come on, Spike,” Angel yelled back. He stood so that they were face to face again. “You have the future I always wanted. Me…I have nothing, and it’s never going to happen for me. So, why the hell should I keep trying for something I’ll never get?”
“Because it’s what you do,” Spike said. He hung his head while his hands found purchase on his hips. “You keep trying no matter how bad it gets.”
“That’s you,” Angel replied. “Not me.”
In the end, Spike couldn’t argue with Angel. What could you say to someone who’d lost more than any man ever should? This wasn’t the time to push. To do so would only cause more pain. He understood how helpless Angel felt, so he let it go. Hopefully, there would be time after Cordelia’s death to talk some sense into her husband. Angel’s plan was the thread that was keeping him going. To take it away would lead to consequences that were possibly worse than Angel’s death. He could lose his conscience, and allow Angelus free reign again. A man could only take so much before he would snap.
“If I could change things, I would,” Spike answered. He looked Angel in the eyes. “It’s not fair, and it never will be.” He sighed. “Look, I’m too tired to even be angry with you. I’m going to go and get some sleep. Talk to you in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” Angel said.
It probably wouldn’t be, but a man could hope. Spike nodded, before leaving the room. He was surprised to see Faith asleep on the couch. The message was clear. He needed to be with Buffy. It didn’t seem to matter how he felt about it. And it didn’t seem to matter how Buffy felt about it. Wanting to delay the reunion with his wife, he stopped in the other guest room to check on his children. They made him smile. They were curled up like their mother and Faith were only a short time ago. Their innocence gave him the peace he’d been looking for earlier.
Suddenly, he wanted to see the woman he shared his life with, the mother of his children, and his lover. Buffy was still sleeping. Spike pulled his shirt off, throwing it over a chair before he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. He felt Buffy’s hand on his back, and he stiffened, unsure of the welcome he would receive. He froze as he listened to her shift in the bed. Without saying a word, she kissed his wound. When he didn’t argue, she slipped her hand down to his waist. Her tongue lapped at the scar tissue making him arch from the sensuality she was giving to the act.
“Oh, Love,” Spike groaned, as he felt her tongue flat against his back, then the sound of her swallowing the blood she’d coaxed by reopening the wound. Her arousal was heavy in the air, and he suddenly needed her. He turned, pushing her back against the bed. Her eyes were wide as he covered her body with his. There was no protest, so he buried his face in the soft curve of her neck. Sniffing at his mark, he let the deep joy of possession wash over him. Buffy was his, and only his. His growl was muffled by the closeness of their bodies, and she answered him with a submissive mewl.
Buffy wrapped her legs around him, her fingers buried in his hair, keeping him close to her. This was as close to paradise as he’d ever gotten, or ever hoped to be. She was all softness and strength beneath him. He could feel his body responding to hers, his cock hardening against the sweetness of her mound, his heart racing to match the beat of hers, and his instincts demanding that he take her in every way possible.
Her lips moved across his cheek, moving as she murmured her love and desire for him. There was too much between them, his jeans and her boxers, and he moved to rid them of the obstructions.
“You’re still bleeding,” Buffy whispered into his ear. She sucked lightly on the lobe, before releasing it. Her hand wiped at his back, smearing the blood across his flesh. “Let me lick it off.”
“In a minute,” Spike said, not caring if he would owe their hosts a set of sheets. The combination of the scent of blood and sex was creating a humming in his ears that was taking him out of the very reality he was enjoying. A high that only vampires could enjoy this much. He bit the flesh of her neck with gentle nibbles, sending her into frantic writhing beneath him. She arched her hips, pressing against his erection in a mating call that was all too obvious.
It was time; he slid off her to lie on his stomach beside her on the bed. She uttered a small noise that was a cross between a giggle and a groan. Without wasting a second, she followed him, settling on her knees beside him, and her hands pressing him down into the bed by his shoulder and lower back. Then she attacked him with a ferocity that almost made him cum by the sheer passion of it. His hips moved of their own violation, rubbing against the bed in rhythm with her tongue, licking and sucking the blood from him.
“Roll over,” Buffy commanded, in a voice satiated with lust. He almost expected to see her in vampire guise, but she wasn’t. She was still human, still in command, and oh, so very sexy. She didn’t waste anymore time. She pulled her t-shirt, throwing it to the floor, the boxers she wore quickly followed. He waited, enjoying the show with wrists crossed above his head. It was too bad they weren’t at home, he thought with regret. He knew the rules even without the physical accompaniment of the handcuffs though. She undid his jeans, yanking them down to his knees, leaving them there to bind his legs. He’d taught her well in the past few years. “Do you want me?” But beneath it all, she was still the girl she’d once been; he could see a flicker of doubt in her hazel eyes.
“Yes, I want you,” he was quick to reassure her. “I want you more than you will ever know.”
Her hand cupped his cock, trailing fire with her fingertips as she lifted it so that she could position it at her entrance. She rubbed it along her slit, wetting it before she slid down on it. His eyes rolled back in his head from the sensation of her velvet walls squeezing him. He couldn’t help it. He arched up, forcing himself deep into her. Buffy threw her head back, moaning as she ground against him.
“I love you, Spike,” Buffy called out as she began to ride him.
She held herself steady with her hands on his belly as she rose and fell, almost letting him slip out of her before she would engulf him again. Their lovemaking was powerful, driving all of his doubts from his mind, until only Buffy existed. It was a quick coupling. They came within a few minutes. The need between them too much for them to delay. Spike pulled her down on top of him, caressing her back in long strokes while he peppered kisses along her brow.
“Always yours, Buffy,” he whispered, hoping she would hear him.
“I know,” she said, kissing his chest. “I know you are.”
To be continued…
