Buffy woke up alone in
her apartment, thankful that not only was it the weekend and Dawn was opening
the store, but the apartment was empty. She thanked the powers that be for that
and started her day. Any attraction she felt towards Spike was purely physical
and could never be acted upon. He was just like Hank, always thinking with his
dick rather than his other head. Last night, he proved that point. Buffy rubbed
her arms where Spike had held her so tightly. Refusing to think about Spike and
Hank, she decided some artistic therapy was in order. Two hours later, Buffy
was cleaning her brushes when she heard the front door open. Glancing at the
clock, she noticed it was barely nine. Two thoughts went through her mind, was
it a burglar or something much worse: Spike. She made her way out to the front
room and was assaulted with the vision of Spike in a pair of tight black jeans
and t-shirt. She could see every muscle underneath said shirt as he walked
backwards into the apartment, carrying a huge carton. Another man on the other
end of the long box smiled at her as he helped haul the box in. Buffy stood in
the living room gaping at the two men when Spike noticed her. "There you
are, pet." Spike put his end of the box down and went over to her. "I
knocked but you didn’t answer. I see you’ve been painting. Missed a little
here," Spike kissed Buffy on her nose and continued to ramble. "This
is my friend, Clem." Clem waved his hand after he put his side of the box
down. "I saw that your couch was a little old, so I got us a new
one." Spike started to cut the box apart, while he kept talking. "Got
a right good deal, too. Didn’t I Clem?" Clem nodded his head vigorously.
"So, it’s blue, like your old one. No need to redecorate everything."
Spike continued to cut his way through the packaging, finally revealing a
beautiful midnight blue couch. Buffy couldn’t believe him; he was acting like
nothing was wrong, like they were lovers. He acted like he was moving in.
Realization dawned and Buffy’s blood pressure skyrocketed.
When Buffy managed to
get her voice back she said, "William… um… can I talk to you for a
moment?" Spike nodded and followed Buffy into the closest room with a
door, her bedroom. "What are you doing?" Buffy whispered loudly.
Spike knew we was going to get an earful, he just had to play it cool. Make her
feel non-threatened and then everything would work out. He would be in her
apartment, her bed, and her life. Before she knew it, she would like him and
soon would be in love with him. Smirking, Spike thought about all the delicious
things he could do with her if she loved him.
"Unpacking the
couch, pet. What does it look like?" Spike smiled as innocently as he
could. After leaving last night, he brainstormed all night with Clem, an old
college friend. After a bottle of bourbon they decided that Spike should move
in with her to get close. He could then prove that he could be the man that she
wanted.
"Who said… anything
about new furniture?" Buffy was confused; Spike was staring at her so
innocently.
"Pet, if I bring
any clients over, I have to impress them." Spike said like it was the most
natural thing to do.
"Why would they be
coming to MY apartment?" Buffy couldn’t believe her ears he wasn’t making
any sense. "We are supposed to be just dating… nothing more, Spike."
"Not just your
apartment, I’m moving in." Spike said smugly.
"You are not!"
Buffy’s voice rose in volume as she tried to keep her temper in check. So it
was true, he thought he was moving in. "That was not the deal!"
"Shh, pet. I know
what we discussed last night, but… we have to have hard ties. Living together
will give us that tie." Buffy stood still, looking at Spike and shaking
her head. Looking around the room, Spike took inventory. The room was large and
had an attached bathroom. Her full-sized bed was made up neatly with a floral
comforter and sheet set. A complimenting canvas hung over her bed; obviously
she made it to go with her sheets. A small dresser sat near the window, as did
an armoire. The closet door was open and he could see it was large.
"I guess… I could
move my studio in here and you could have the other bedroom…" she held her
bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it as she thought about the options.
"I think… I’ll come
by tonight and we’ll discuss it, yeah?" Spike started to formulate a plan
to get Buffy out of the apartment so he could move his bedroom suite in.
"What are you doing today? Clem and I are going to be coming back and
forth a lot today; maybe you should go to the shop so we don’t distract
you?"
"I… am heading
there shortly. Let me move my studio from the spare bedroom, so you can move
those things." Buffy walked out of the room and headed towards the other
room. Clem sat on the couch and gave Spike two thumbs up as he followed Buffy.
"Pet, let us do
that. Promise to be careful and all that rot. You go to the gallery. We’ll be
OK. Male bonding, you know?" Buffy nodded and headed back out to the
living room.
"It was nice
meeting you, Clem. Don’t have too much fun." Buffy grabbed her purse and
headed out the door.
"Wow, I thought she
was going to let you have it there, for a moment. She seems pretty nice."
Clem commented after the door closed.
"Yeah, she is.
Look, we have to take her furniture out of her bedroom and donate it to
Goodwill or something. We just have to get it out of here. Then move my stuff
in. That tiny little bed couldn’t hold a man half my size," Spike
chuckled. He made a quick call to the movers he had set up down the street to
come up. The two men worked on getting the old couch out of the apartment and
down the stairs. Coming back up, Spike and Clem moved Buffy’s clothes out of
the drawers and into boxes. The movers made their first trip up with Spike’s
bed, a king sized piece of art. A dark wood four-poster bed now dominated
Buffy’s bedroom. Spike watched as each piece of his bedroom entered the room
and he begun to unpack her clothes back into the drawers. He tried not to pay
attention to her delicate items, but couldn’t help himself. Little scraps of
lace and material filled the drawer when he finished moving every single piece
by itself.
The movers left and Clem
watched TV in the living room, waiting for Spike to come back out. Spike
finished unpacking his clothes and made room for them in the closet. He knew
she would be mad at this invasion into her life, but he hoped to God he could
convince her he wasn’t all that bad.
Clem left after he
helped Spike move and set up the rest of his necessities in the apartment: A
desk, his computer, and his entertainment system. Worrying what Buffy would do
if Spike left and she walked in, Spike ordered Chinese to be delivered.
Tense minutes passed as
Spike waited for Buffy to come home. The Chinese was staying warm in the oven
and a quick call to the gallery confirmed that Buffy was on her way home.
Moving from couch, to the large desk in the corner to the dining room Spike
practically ran a hundred miles around the tiny space. He looked over at the
clock and swore the hands moved backwards, taunting him. Finally the telltale
click of the lock turning caught Spike’s attention. Standing behind the couch,
Spike greeted his new roommate. "Hello, pet!" Spike put a false smile
on, hoping that her head wouldn’t explode. "I hope you like Chinese."
He knew she liked Chinese, Willow told him so after he threatened to fire her.
"It’s warming in the oven; let me go dish it out." He walked into the
kitchen, preparing the dishes to put on the table. "I know you are
probably very tired and hungry. I know I am after a long day." His head
popped out of the kitchen when he didn’t hear a sound from her. She was standing
in the middle of the room looking around at all the new furniture in the living
room. Her eyes were round and wide as she took in the new entertainment system,
desk, and matching chair to the couch. "Pet? Here, sit down and tell me
about your day." Spike inwardly grinned at himself, he was being the
perfect boyfriend. Buffy made her way over to the dining room table and sat
down. Spike brought out dishes piled up with food. On his second trip from the
kitchen, he brought her a drink. They ate in silence again. Spike wasn’t sure
if it was because he was anticipating an ugly scene when she found her bedroom,
their bedroom, changed or if she just didn’t talk while she ate.
A satisfied smile
adorned Buffy’s lips as she finished her meal. She sat back and watched Spike
finish his plate of food. After all was done, she stood up and removed the
plates, "Looks like you and Clem were busy."
Spike followed her into
the kitchen, helping to dry the dishes as she washed. "All day."
"William, I’m… I’m
not sure this is the best." Buffy rested her hands on the sink as she
looked down at the suds. "I’ve… I’ve never lived with a man before,
and…"
"Shh, don’t worry,
Buffy. We’ll work it all out, yeah?" Spike stood behind her, wanting to
touch her, but he just stood still.
"William, my mom…
how can I… what am I going to tell her?" Buffy turned around and they were
practically inches from each other. "She’s going to find out. Someone will
tell her, they always do. I’d rather tell her before someone else does."
"You’re a good daughter
to your mum, pet." Spike wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close.
He felt her sigh and wrap her arms around his torso, taking comfort where she
could get it. "We’ll go see her this week, tell her in person."
She stiffened, "She
can’t know about Hank."
"Shh, sweetheart,
no, nothing about Hank. We’ll tell her that we’ve been dating and moved in
together. She’ll be OK, pet. I’ll charm her, just like I did you."
"Shaw, you did not
charm me, Mr. Winthrop." She looked up at him and fluttered her eyelashes.
Spike groaned when he
saw her eyelashes flutter. "Be the death of me, pet." Buffy smiled
and turned back to the sink, washing the remaining dishes. Times like this made
it all worth it for Spike. "Say, pet. Why don’t we watch a movie? Got the
entertainment system hooked up. I don’t know how you survived without a
television." Spike shook his head in wonderment.
"I used to have
one, but it broke. I never got another one." Buffy walked out of the
kitchen towards the couch. Spike grabbed another wine cooler for her and a beer
for him. He followed her out and sat on the couch.
"So what will it
be?"
"I don’t know.
Whatever you have." Spike got up and went over to the cabinet that held
his DVD movies. He briefly scanned through the collection and found what he was
looking for.
He popped the movie in
and sat back down, waiting for it to start. "Now, pet. If you tell anyone
that I have this movie, I will bloody kill you." Buffy looked up and
giggled as she saw the credits start. It was the "Princess Bride."
"Oh, I used to love
this movie!" Buffy sat on her feet as she began to watch the tale of
Wesley and Buttercup. Spike sat back arm flung over the back of the couch
watching her watch the movie. She watched intently, eyes wide open and mouth
agape bringing Spike joy in just watching her. Through the course of the movie,
she changed positions, eventually leaning back into the couch. Somehow, Spike
found the silken threads of her hair and started to wind them around his
fingers. She sighed peacefully at the end of the movie and he looked down at
her face. Her eyes were closed and a sweet smile showed on her lips. Too
tempted, Spike moved and rested his lips on hers. Softly, he kissed her lips;
he felt her shift in her slumber and kiss him back. Pleasure ripped through his
body, settling in his groin. Moaning, he deepened the kiss. His tongue moved on
her lower lip, beckoning hers to come out and play. Slowly, she woke up,
registering what was going on. Bringing up her hands to rest on his chest,
Buffy gently pushed him away. "William," her low whisper was music to
his ears. Grunting, he moved his head in closer to hers. She opened her mouth
instinctively, letting his cool tongue roam over hers. He tasted of beer and
tobacco. In the far recesses of her brain she asked herself when did he smoke?
Sighing into him, she let him set the pace of their kiss. Normally turned off
by smoking, Buffy liked his taste, it was nothing like the taste of ashes she
had expected. His hands found her waist and held onto her while he changed
their positions. Practically picking her up and pivoting her, Spike twisted
them around. Sitting down into the cushions, he held Buffy reclined on his lap.
He supported her with an arm behind her back and the other at her waist. His
slow smooth kisses became harder as his need increased. Licking down her jaw,
he concentrated on the soft skin of her neck, nipping and licking the smooth
area.
Fog quietly settled
around her senses as she enjoyed this treatment. Thinking that they would have
act like a couple in public she didn’t stop the slow seduction. It was actually
very nice. It had been too long since she had made out with someone and even
longer since she had been in a regular relationship. Unpleasant thoughts of
three years ago and Riley developed. He was a sweet man with a sweet heart, but
he couldn’t be a second fiddle to her mother’s sickness. He needed someone to
be there for him all the time and Buffy was unable to do that. Buffy understood
and hoped for the best for him, she even introduced him to his new wife, Sam.
Pushing back into her memory, she remembered Parker. He was after one thing and
one thing only: sex. When she refused him, he spread a rumor around the local
community college that she was a prude. The declaration didn’t bother her as
much as Parker telling her she wasn’t worth a go. Shuddering at remembering the
sneer he threw at her when she didn’t feel ashamed at not falling into bed with
him. Finally her memory traveled back to her first love, Angel. Romantic ideals
of a sixteen year old, intent on falling in love and then loving forever
clouded her judgment. Angel was older, 23, when they met at the local club. His
smooth words and actions enticed Buffy. She followed him around, worshipping
the ground he walked upon. Her first exploration into sexual desire was with
him. Patient and gentle, Angel coaxed her through the rites and revelations a
virgin makes. On her seventeenth birthday, his declaration that he was involved
with someone else, and that he was leaving her because she wouldn’t put out
shattered any ideals she’d ever had about love. Between her father and the
three men in her life, they destroyed any chance she ever had to find true and
everlasting love. Heartbreak and mistrust were all she had.
He first noticed a shudder
and then a moaning sob. Her breath quickened and muscles became tense. Not
realizing that her actions were not from lust and arousal, but from her painful
memories, he kept kissing and touching. The hand at her waist found its way up
her torso towards her breasts. They felt so smooth and soft; he wanted to rest
his head there forever. Suddenly, Buffy tensed even more and pushed away. She
scrambled to the other side of the couch, hugging herself and breathing hard.
"Pet?" Buffy
whimpered. Spike reached for her, hoping to calm her. He had no idea what was
happening. "What’s wrong?" Her eyes glared at him, accusing him of
things he had not done. Silent green eyes met intense blue for endless moments.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Spike asked, he couldn’t figure her
out. Buffy got up and went into the bathroom.
Minutes passed as Spike
stared at the bathroom door, willing her to talk to him. She finally came out,
tear streaked eyes and holding a tissue. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… let
it go so far. I’m sorry." She turned and went into her bedroom. Spike sat
on the couch trying to think what her problem was. She seemed to like kissing
him, why the sudden mood change? Then, he heard her gasp and yell,
"WILLIAM!"
A/N: Warning: Un-consensual
sex coming up.
Spike wiped his face
with his hand when he heard her. He knew this was it. Slowly, he walked into
the bedroom. A dim light on the nightstand illuminated the relatively large
room now filled with his furniture. Buffy stood at the end of the bed with her
hands on her lips looking like a pissed off angel. "Care to tell me where
my furniture is?"
Spike looked directly in
her eyes and saw the fire, the passion, he encountered when they first met and
it turned him on. Deciding to play with her, his lips turned into a confident
smirk as he came towards her. "Well, you see, love." Flames rose high
in her eyes as she bit her tongue. "My furniture couldn’t possibly fit in
the other bedroom. I didn’t realize how small of a space it was, so I made an
executive decision." Inches away from her, he inhaled her scent.
"How dare you move
my furniture out of my bedroom and put yours in here." She inched towards
him with her chin held high and eyes ablaze. This further embedded the idea
Spike was like her father, making unilateral decisions without anyone else’s
wants or needs in mind.
"Oh, pet, I tried
calling you, but the gallery phone was busy."
"That’s bullshit,
William, and you know it! So what? You moved my stuff into the spare bedroom?
Did you move my clothes too?" She stomped over to the closet and flung the
door open, almost off its hinges. Seeing her clothes neatly hung beside his,
she looked questioningly at Spike.
"Actually, that
mattress was lumpier than a fat mans ass. I gave it to Goodwill." Spike
turned his back towards her so he could hide the smile trying to erupt on his
face. "The bed’s big enough, we can share." He heard her gasp of
shock and could feel her ten feet away tremble with anger and indignation.
Still turned away from her he added, "Anyway, for this to work your
friends and my friends have to believe that we are living together…" Spike
turned around to look at her. "As a couple. No one would believe that I
would have a separate bedroom."
Her mouth opened and
closed several times, her brain trying to form words, but her vocal chords not
cooperating. She walked over to the dresser and opening the drawers. She found
her clothes and his, hidden away in the piece of furniture. Stepping back,
Buffy raised her hand to her mouth, muffling her sobs that now bubbled up. Her
green eyes met his and he saw her harden. Her body became rigid and he saw her
emotions in her eyes become opaque. She was building a wall around her soul,
never to let him in again. "I hate you, do you know that? You disgust
me."
"You know you feel
it, too." Spike stepped closer to her only to have her move away. Her
fingers trembled at the end of her arm, the only indication that he was
affecting her.
"You’re just like
him. You don’t care about others…" Her heart hardened as she came to a
realization of who William Winthrop really was. He was just playing a part when
he took her out for pizza, sent her flowers, ordered food, or helped her clean
up it really wasn’t him who was so thoughtful. It was just a means to get what
he wanted, her.
"I care about
you…" Spike answered her and tried moving closer.
"All you care about
is yourself. I should have known…" She turned around from him and strode
into the little bathroom, seeing his things scattered among hers. She came back
into the bedroom and looked at him. "When you were kissing me…on the
couch. I should have figured it out…" Distracted, Buffy looked over at the
furniture. "It was trying to tell me you were like them." Her voice
dripped with hatred. Without letting Spike interrupt, she continued,
"Hank, Angel, Parker, and even Riley. You all wanted something and you
didn’t care if it destroyed me as long as you got it." Anger and jealousy
flared in Spike’s eyes as she talked about other men. "You don’t care if
it destroys me. None of them did and you are no different. I can’t believe I
didn’t see it before. My subconscious was trying to tell me the whole
time."
"You were thinking
of them when you kissed me?" The deceiving calmness in his voice disarmed
Buffy and she nodded her head.
"You may have
wiggled yourself into my life, but you never will be here." She patted her
chest near her heart.
Spike quickly strode
over to her and grabbed her upper arms and shook her. "Don’t ever think of
someone else when you are with me." He smashed his mouth down onto hers.
Her harsh cry didn’t even faze Spike as he mashed their mouths together harder.
He felt her legs try to kick and push away from him, but it was too late, his
anger consumed him and blocked his thought process. Struggling to free herself,
Buffy slapped Spike across his cheek. The sting of her blow did nothing but
further infuriate him.
Spike threw her body
over to the bed. Buffy stumbled and hit her torso on footboard, bruising her
rib cage. She fell over the mattress and started to climb across, towards the
door. Spike followed her, climbing on top of her body. His knees straddled her
body as he turned her onto her back. Spike grabbed her hands, pushing them
above her head, holding them there. She wiggled and bucked, trying to free
herself. Cries and sobs came from her mouth as Spike peppered kisses along her
neck. "I know you feel it too, Buffy. Let yourself feel it."
Buffy felt his knees
pressed into her thighs, holding her still while he did as he pleased. She
looked up to the ceiling, the same ceiling she looked at when she fell asleep.
Tears blinded her as she felt Spike hold both her hands together with one hand.
His free hand moved down her body, touching her, molesting her. He lifted his
head from her neck and he watched his hand move over her breast, squeezing it.
Tears rolled down her face as she moved it back and forth, hoping that one more
moving part would throw him off. "Oh, baby, don’t cry. It’ll be good. We’ll
be good, you’ll see."
"Stop,
please." His head made it back to her neck, tasting the salty trails of
her tears as he held her down. She felt his fingers on her shoulder and neck
just before she heard him rip her blouse right off of her. There was no use in
fighting, he would overcome and she would have to submit. Shutting away her
heart and mind, she gave up. It was like a death wish, it was over, and she was
tired of fighting. If he wanted her body, that’s what he would get, the only
thing he would get. She felt like she was an observer, not really feeling
anything anymore. She couldn’t feel her arms held in a punishing grip or his
heavy body moving over her. Wordlessly, his mouth went down to taste her lace
covered nipples. Still holding on to her arms, Spike moved down to taste her.
Such a delicacy. Her pert nipple stood up through the lace material, begging
for him to release them. Not paying attention to her empty eyes, his hand came
down and unlatched her bra. Her arms stayed put as all his attention was
directed at her chest. Fabric was pushed to the side as his mouth devoured her.
Fingers made their way down to her jeans and they slowly came off. She allowed
him to pose and prod her body, hoping he would be quick.
Spike had other ideas.
He felt like he was worshipping her. Wanting to enjoy the whole experience, he
slowed his seduction of her body, kissing and sucking on her sensitive flesh.
She stopped moving and fighting him off a while ago as his hands trailed down
to her waist. Glancing up at her face, he saw the vacant look in her eyes.
Cursing himself at what he had done and what was about to do, Spike unbuttoned
her jeans and dragged them down her legs. She would never understand, not until
he showed her. They would be terrific together he just knew it. Her passion may
be locked away for now, but Spike was determined to bring it out again.
Smiling, his fingers ran along her bare legs, tiny goose bumps forming as he
passed his skin over hers. Her body stayed still as he moved over her, taking
off his own clothes, touching her, kissing her, making love to her. His fingers
passed over the coarse curls at the apex of her legs. Deliberately, he pushed
her legs apart, opening her up for his enjoyment. Her legs fell apart easily,
letting his fingers dip down. His long index finger probed her slit, running up
and down as he put more pressure on it. Dipping inside, he was amazed at the
slick heat he encountered. Nudging her lips open with his thumb, he flicked her
clit eliciting a betraying gasp from Buffy. Smiling, Spike dipped his head down
and kissed her inner thighs. Struggling again, Buffy tried to close her legs,
but between Spike’s head and his hands holding her legs apart, she couldn’t.
Her breathing increased as she felt Spike probe her tender skin with his
tongue. The pressure he built up inside her was ready to explode. His nose
nudged her clit and she grasped the sheets, Buffy screamed as her first orgasm
overwhelmed her. Breathing erratically, Buffy expected Spike to take her fully.
She didn’t expect him to continue to kiss and lick at her slick opening. With
one hand, holding onto her knee, he used the other to probe into her channel.
She idly wondered if he could tell that she was a virgin. Breathing shallowly,
she tried to lock herself away again, desperate not to take pleasure in his
plundering, but she couldn’t. Her body screamed for release and she could do
nothing to stop it. His fingers now caressed her inside as his mouth took up
residence on her clit, sucking it into his mouth and playing with it. Buffy’s
back arched as her second orgasm came and pounded her into the ground.
"See, I told you.
It could be wonderful, pet. Just let it happen, I promise to make it good for
you." Spike climbed up Buffy’s sweat slicked body, positioned to fully
take her. He kissed her hard on the lips, swallowing her scream as he swiftly
surged into her. Breaking off from her mouth, Spike looked questioningly down
at Buffy. His blue eyes were dark with lust and power as full realization of
what he had done hit him. Shifting his weight, Spike sank lower into her virgin
tunnel, waiting for her body to relax. There was no going back; he had taken
something from her that he could never give back. Resting his forehead against
hers he whispered sweet nothings, hoping his behavior did not damn him in the
future. Silent tears ran from Buffy’s closed eyes as her body protested against
the invasion. "Shh, kitten. Be all right. I promise. Relax, I’ll make the
pain go away."
But, her body didn’t
relax. It only became tighter, as her soul protested and rallied in her mind.
Opening her mouth, she let a sob out as she cried for the little girl that
still held delusions of love shattered. In her mind’s eye she watched Hank lead
the little girl away, and Angel lead the young teenager toward the pit of hell.
She watched Parker cheer them on. Now, they were all encouraging Spike as they
watch him rip the last vestige of her innocent heart away, throwing it on the
ground, shredded and beaten. Crying for the little girl that she once was,
Buffy’s body succumbed to the relaxation Spike talked about.
Spike started to move on
top of her. She felt his hot breath on her neck, the sticky fluids that they
currently shared, and his heated skin on hers. She felt him touch her clit
again as he moved in and out of her channel, slick with her juices and blood.
Refusing to open her eyes, she willed her body to relax, hoping Spike would
finish soon. It hurt, of course, but the thing she wanted to stop was the
pleasure. She felt another orgasm approach and she tried to beat it down,
knowing he wanted her to give in. Spike’s head nestled in Buffy’s neck, kissing
and nibbling on her skin when he felt her muscles grasp around his cock, almost
strangling it. Roaring to life, Spike increased his pace, emptying his seed
into her womb.
Spike collapsed on top
of Buffy, still embedded in her. Slowly, he became conscious that he was
crushing her and rolled off. Hearing and feeling the slight pop of his member
leaving her body, she immediately curled into a ball with her back to him.
Glancing down at his body, he decided to go get cleaned up. He walked naked
into the bathroom and didn’t close the door, Buffy heard him use the toilet and
running water.
She curled into a
tighter ball when she heard the water stop and felt his presence in the room
again. Spike sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at her, watching her
through half hooded eyes. "Sweetheart, going to clean you up a little,
kay?" Spike received no answer, but she didn’t pull away when he started
to lave her lower regions with a washcloth. Finished, he threw the washcloth
into the bathroom again. He climbed into the bed behind Buffy, spooning against
her. His arms came around her, holding her firm to his chest as he peppered her
neck and shoulders with kisses and little bites. "I didn’t know
Buffy…" a few more open mouthed kisses placed on her neck, "I would
have been gentler." He felt her shudder and knew he just lost any chance
of gaining access to her heart.
Spike woke up with a
start. He reached over the bed only to encounter cold sheets. Spike sat up and
looked around the room. The sun had started to peek its golden head through the
blinds of the window. He stumbled out into the living room, buck naked as he
frantically searched for Buffy. Moving from room to room, Spike started to
panic. Had he just pushed her over the edge? Was she gone? He went into the
spare room that she used as a studio, he found a wet canvas and felt relief.
She wasn’t gone. She wouldn’t have started a canvas if she were leaving. Spike
went back into the living room, trying to find some clue at where Buffy had
gone. Sitting next to the phone was her personal phone book flipped to the XYZ
section. One entry adorned the page: Christoph Zambockwitz: special coordinator,
Sunnydale Ice Rink, 555-9697. Remembering seeing her skates the previous day,
Spike quickly went to the closet that Clem had found yesterday to check. They
were gone. Buffy must be at the rink. Yesterday when Clem found them, he
commented he had seen Buffy skate at a competition a while ago and that she was
quite good.
Spike dressed rapidly in
the same clothes he had worn yesterday and grabbed his car keys. He drove
through an unfamiliar part of town, looking for the building that held the ice
rink. Finally, finding the building, he parked and went in. Soft music piped
through the speakers as Spike stepped into the arena. On the ice, Buffy
gracefully glided past with one leg extended behind her. The shallow arc of her
blade turned her direction. Her eyes were closed as she communed with the ice,
instinctively knowing where the edge of the rink was. Her long hair floated
behind her as she moved away from his position. She picked up speed to head
down to the other side of the rink. She wore dark skin tight pants and purple
workout top. Her skates were white with a glint of sharp steel edge underneath.
Spike sat down on the bleachers as he watched her practice, unaware of his
presence. Her face was flushed pink from the cold and stress of working out. He
watched as she positioned herself for a salchow, landing perfectly. If she
noticed his presence, she didn’t show it. She kept skating from one end of the
rink to the next performing a couple different jumps and maneuvers Spike didn’t
know the name of. She slowed her speed, and rested her hand on her knees as she
cooled down. Twisting, Buffy relaxed her muscles as she continued to make slow
laps around the rink. Over the sound system, Spike heard a cough, "Getting
better, Buffy. Going to have to work on that double axle going into the
salchow. I don’t think your ankle is strong enough yet, it keeps
wobbling." Buffy looked up into a lighted booth and smiled. Her teeth were
bright and if Spike didn’t know better, she would look like she had no worries.
But, he did know better and he knew he was the cause of one very big one.
"Meet you in the weight room in fifteen." She gave the man in the
lighted booth a thumbs up and continued to slow her pace. She practiced hopping
from foot to foot, changing the blade that was on the ice.
She came near to his
position and suddenly said, "Aren’t you bored yet? How did you find
me?" She skated away, but looked back to where he sat.
Spike got up and walked
over to the small door to the rink and leaned against the wall. His hands buried
deep into the pockets of his black leather duster as he watched her come back.
He shrugged, "How long have you known I was here?"
Stopping a few feet out
on the ice she put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side,
"Well, if you were trying to hide your arrival, you didn’t succeed."
Spike’s face broke out
in a grin. "Yeah, love, I didn’t try to hide. I saw your address book
opened, wasn’t very hard to figure out." Spike stepped carefully out onto
the ice, trying to come towards her. He needed to feel her, if just for one
brief second. Buffy smiled flirtatiously and started to skate backwards.
"Come here, pet."
She looked around the
rink making sure no one saw her and she shook her head. "I don’t think
so." It was time to take some dignity back. She pushed harder and flew
back a couple more feet. Spike kept stepping closer, trying to maintain balance
on the slippery floor. She watched as he struggled to come towards her. A small
giggle wanted to bubble up inside her. He was on her turf and she was going to
win this round.
"Please, pet. I
need to touch you." Spike started to run towards her, thinking she was
playing a game. Suddenly, Spike found himself falling forward and smacking his
body onto the ice. "Umph."
Buffy cautiously skated
around his prone body, far out of arms distance. Spike sat up and rubbed his
forehead, watching her circle him. A little voice inside her asked, ‘how could
she let him do that last night?’ She should have fought harder, longer. She
should have, but she didn’t. "I hate you, you know?" The venom in her
voice startled Spike. He looked at her face and saw nothing but disgust.
"What you did last night… it was disgusting."
Spike reached his hand
out, wanting her to stop the dizzying motion. "Stop! I can’t talk to you
while you bloody circle me like that!" Buffy stopped her movement, but
stayed far away from him. Spike struggled to stand up, "Look, I… I messed
up last night, right? I just lost it, Buffy. I didn’t mean to hurt you like
that."
Buffy’s frown deepened,
"You still did, William, and I’ll never forgive you." She started to
slowly back away from him. He almost didn’t hear her say, "I’ll never
forgive myself." Turning back towards him, she said loud enough for him to
hear, "I have to go weight train. Be gone when I get back." She
stepped off the ice and affixed the guard to the bottom of her skate. Spike
stood out on the ice for minutes after she left, just staring after her. She
had slipped through his fingers again.
~*~*~
Buffy walked slowly
through the town of Sunnydale. Dawn was manning the gallery, insisting Buffy
was in a bad mood and needed to go home. Buffy didn’t want to go home. Spike
was at home, the bed was at home, and she didn’t want to face either one. She
turned the corner, heading into a dark ally that separated two main streets of
Sunnydale. Barely looking where she was going, Buffy passed a group of bikers
hanging out near the backdoor to a bar. She didn’t notice when a man started to
following her. She almost made it to the opening on the other side, but she
suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, "Where you going, doll face?"
Buffy turned around and
was faced with a hulky giant standing in front of her. Standing well over six
foot, he had tattoos and various piercings throughout his uncovered flesh.
Wanting to gag, Buffy looked the stranger in the eye, "Home."
She turned around and
was five feet from the street, when her body flew against the brick wall.
Struggling to get up, Buffy felt a fist connect with her jaw. "Think
you’re better than me?" The man kicked her in her stomach. "Can’t
talk to me?" He punched her again. "Next time you might want to be
nicer." The other bikers came up and pulled the man off of Buffy, telling
him that was enough. The group walked back into the bar, leaving Buffy bleeding
and supported by the wall.
Struggling to stand up,
Buffy looked around. People didn’t even notice her or the attack. Tears ran
down her face as she felt her ribs, at least one was cracked. She started to
walk towards the gallery; it was only a few blocks away.
Buffy stepped into the
back door into her workroom. Dawn heard her come in and came into the back. She
saw the bruises and cuts on Buffy’s face. Gasping, Dawn quickly dialed Buffy’s
doctor; she knew Buffy would refuse to go to the hospital. Buffy sat on her
workbench, holding her ribs when the doctor came in. Dawn stayed out in the
main shop as the doctor examined Buffy. The doctor started wrap up Buffy’s ribs
when Spike walked into the outer gallery shop Dawn glanced up and noticed him,
"Hey Nibblet, is Buffy in?"
Dawn looked at Spike and
noticed the bruise on his forehead from the ice. She knew that Spike moved into
Buffy’s apartment and they had a fight the first night he was there. Buffy was
in too much of a bad mood for it to have gone well. Dawn also surmised that
they couldn’t be in a real relationship. Buffy never lived with anyone after
she moved out of Hank’s house. It just didn’t make sense that Buffy would allow
a man to move in with her after a few weeks. "She’s in the back with the
doctor." Dawn watched as Spike dashed into the back of the store. She
wondered if Spike was the one that beat Buffy up, but dismissed the idea as
soon as it entered her mind. His fists didn’t look bruised and he looked
genuinely startled when she told him about the doctor.
Whatever Spike expected
when he went into the backroom, it didn’t prepare him for what he did see.
Sitting on the workbench, a bruised and battered Buffy sat with an ice pack
against the right side of her head. Her shirt was off, but she still had a
sports bra underneath from her earlier workout. Another female stood in front
of her with bandages, wrapping her torso up. He saw Buffy wince as the other
woman continued to pull the bandages tighter. Spike assumed she was Buffy’s
doctor. "You OK, love?" Spike stepped closer as Buffy looked at him
with cold, scared eyes.
Her eyes narrowed and
she mumbled over the ice pack. "Got attacked. I’m fine." She looked
away, not wanting to ruin the illusion she was supposed to create.
"Nothing to worry about." The doctor grunted with disagreement but
finished wrapping up her up anyway.
Spike looked over at the
doctor and knew Buffy would play her part so he stepped closer to her. Gently,
he took the ice pack away from her face. Her eye was swollen shut and a deep
gash below it oozed a little blood out of it. He replaced the ice, holding it
to her face, "Who did this?"
Buffy looked up at him
when she heard the rough tone of his voice. "I don’t know." The
doctor started to clean up the supplies and let the two talk. Buffy could tell
Spike didn’t believe her, "Seriously, I don’t. One moment, I’m walking
down an alley between Main and Vine, the next thing I am up against a
wall."
"Which alley?"
She could feel the anger rolling off of him.
Buffy took a glance at
the doctor still in the room and whispered, "The one behind Willy’s, but
Spike, please, leave it be. I’m alright."
Spike stepped closer,
practically on top of her now, "Buffy, they hurt you." She saw his
jaw clenching and the steel in his eyes as he tried to reign in his anger.
"Spike, please. I
don’t want to deal with it. Just got knocked around a bit…been through
worse." She gave him a pointed look, reminding her he did worse last
night.
Spike stepped back; the
blow of her words hit him straight in his gut. "Buffy, look love."
She sent a scathing look his way, but sat quietly because the doctor was in the
room. "I care about you. Deep down here." Spike pounded his fist into
his chest. "All I see is you. I’m drowning in you, Summers." He took
her hand in his. "No one touches what is mine." Spike looked
earnestly into her eyes as the doctor left and begged her, "Please, who
did this?"
Their eyes met. Tears
rolled off her face as Spike gathered her up, holding her firmly against his
chest, letting her cry. It broke his heart, listening to her tears of sorrow.
They were like daggers through his soul. The pain on her outside didn’t even
come close to the turmoil inside her. Being held in his arms felt like sweet
torture. On the one hand she craved his tender, comforting touch but on the
other, she was mortified that she allowed her rapist to touch her like this.
His hands slowly caressed her back, encouraging her to let her pain out. She
couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the sweet persona that Spike was
sporting. Everything in his body language and eyes told volumes of his
understanding. But, the nagging voice inside her head reminded her of the
previous night. Buffy couldn’t help it. This man holding her was such an enigma:
anger, jealousy, compassion, and possessiveness all rolled up into one man. The
sobs subsided and her emotions rolled up into a ball, ready to be put away in
her mind. She became aware of the low humming coming from Spike as he held her.
It sounded like a sad, yet soothing, lullaby. The last of her tears rolled off
her face and onto Spike’s shirt. Her breathing, still irregular, was calming
down. She felt Spike shift, making it easier for him to support her weight. His
hands still stroked her back. She became aware of her fingers clutching Spike’s
shirt, crushing the fabric between her digits. She relaxed her hands, letting
his shirt go. Buffy pulled away while she smoothed the crinkled fabric on his
chest.
No words passed between
the two. Spike backed away towards the front area of the gallery. A few moments
later, he came back to Buffy and picked her up like a damsel in distress. He
quickly strode out the back door and into the alley where he had parked his
black car.
Buffy fell asleep on the
way home, her energy and emotions were spent. Spike carefully carried her up to
the apartment and tucked her into the bed. He quietly left the room, letting
her rest. It was time for him to go into action. He’d make sure that she was
safe from now on.
A/n: Thanks again Char,
your suggestions and editing are wonderful!!
The next day was spent
in quiet reflection as the two occupants of the apartment tried to forget the
previous two days. The doctor that Spike had arranged to make visits insisted
on bed rest for a couple days for Buffy. Buffy wasn’t happy when the doctor
told her she would not be able to put on her skates for at least a month,
probably longer. Buffy’s injuries seemed pretty superficial, no bones totally
broken and the bruises and cuts on her face already started to heal. Her ribs
were tender and when she tried to move, they hurt, so she couldn’t really argue
about the bed rest. The doctor also set up a home rehabilitation schedule for
Buffy. Spike left for a short time after the doctor’s visit to grab some things
to make it easier for Buffy. Buffy sat in the bedroom, filled with his
furniture, fuming that she was stuck. It hurt too much to move off the bed and
walk around. But, it also hurt to lay in the bed... his bed. Buffy sighed;
Spike really was sweet yesterday when she got hurt. He stood by her the whole
way, making sure she had everything she needed. One thing was for sure he was a
possessive man. Between the sweet words and kisses and the rampage of jealousy
that resulted with him raping her, Buffy didn’t know who Spike really was. She
lay there, wondering who the real Spike was.
Spike came back a few
minutes after he left, carrying a bag from the local pharmacy. He came into the
bedroom, intruding on Buffy’s private thoughts. Setting down the bag, he showed
her a pager that would allow him to move around the apartment and even the
neighborhood, but still be in contact with her if she needed something. He also
bought a grab bar to help her get into the bathtub, in which Buffy vehemently
declined the use of and told him to take it back. Complying with her wishes, he
took the bar away. He attended to her, like a new mother fussing over a newborn
baby. She shooed him out of the room a couple times, only to have him trot back
in a few minutes later baring some sort of peace prize either hot food,
trinkets, or most importantly chocolate.
Glancing at the clock,
Buffy noticed it was getting late. Her back was hurting, once again, and she
picked up the pager. Buffy hadn’t used it yet, since he bought it, Spike was
always hovering around the room, not giving her chance to want anything. After
dinner, she made Spike leave the room so she could have some peace. Buffy
assumed he was working on his computer when she heard little clicks of the
keyboard. She pressed the button and heard a commotion as Spike flew through
the door, looking at the room. "What’s wrong?"
The look on his face
almost made Buffy laugh. His cheeks were red and his brows furrowed with worry.
He crouched down a little, looking like he was going to tackle a burglar. She
looked at him, realizing he might be the most attractive man that ever came
into her life, and the ugliest, too. She stifled a giggle, trying not to jar
her sore abdomen. "Did that thing shock you?"
Spike stood up straight,
trying to calm himself down when he realized she wasn’t hurt or in danger.
"Uh, no, pet. Just… are you alright?"
Buffy nodded,
"Could you get me my pain pills." Spike nodded and went into the
bathroom. A minute later he came out with a glass of water and her pills. He
helped her sit up and waited until she finished swallowing the pills down. He
went back into the bathroom and came back with a new glass of water and her
pills.
"Getting late, pet.
Time to put you to bed." Spike helped Buffy lay back down. He went back
out into the living room and shut down the computer. Coming back, he had a
paperback novel in his hands and started to get ready for bed, too. Buffy was
amazed at the lack of shyness Spike had. He stripped down naked and put on his
silk pants. Buffy tried not to star at the chiseled form, but she couldn’t help
it. His butt looked like it was chiseled marble, smooth and muscular. Glancing
away when he turned in her direction, her face flushed and lips pursed. He saw
her looking at him through the mirror, Spike knew she would deny it if he
called her out on it. He couldn’t help but chuckle inside.
Spike climbed in between
the cool sheet, propped up by his pillow. He noticed after a few minutes that
Buffy hadn’t fallen asleep yet. She laid flat on her back, staring at the
ceiling, listening to him turn the pages of his novel. "What’s wrong,
pet?" Spike was staring down at her when she turned her gaze over to him.
Her eyebrows rose in
surprise, "Oh, well… someone made me stay in bed all day with nothing to
do… kind of not sleepy."
Spike’s whole body shook
in a chuckle. It was true he made her stay flat on the bed all day, hoping to
heal her ribs a bit faster. "Want me to read to you?"
Buffy’s eyes widened
with shook, she remembered Joyce reading to her when she was a child. With some
consideration, Buffy raised her head to look at the book jacket, "What are
you reading?"
Spike smiled and showed
her the worn book. "Count of Monte Cristos, one of my favorites."
"What’s it about? I
hope not some philandering Victorian Count deflowering into young
maidens." Her eyes rolled when she thought of all those romance novels
Joyce read about a strong man saving the virgin and then plundering her
himself. Buffy smiled innocently and almost laughed at Spike’s reaction. She
didn’t mean for her comment to mirror them.
If Spike’s eye sockets
could have gotten wider, his eyeballs would have popped out of his head.
"No, it’s about a man falsely accused of a crime and sent off to prison.
While in prison the people who set him up become rich. His life falls apart.
When he escapes, he wants revenge."
"Does he get
it?" Buffy scooted, as much as her injuries would allow.
"Here… let me start
from the beginning," Spike turned to the beginning of the book and scotted
closer to Buffy, letter her rest her head on his stomach. "‘On February
24, 1815, the watchtower at Marseilles Signaled the arrival of the three-master
Pharaon, coming from Smyrna, Trieste and Naples….’"
Buffy stayed awake long
enough for Edmond Dantes to escape from the Château d’If. Spike put a book mark
into the book at the start of the new chapter and carefully placed Buffy back
onto her back. Turning off the light, Spike settled down next to Buffy, lightly
clasping her warm hand into his.
A/N: The Count of Monte
Cristos by Alexander Dumas is TRULY one of the best novels I have ever read
(like 20 times, I don’t think that’s an exaggeration) and encourage everyone to
read it.
Buffy woke up enclosed
in a familiar cocoon of warmth. The past two weeks seemed to fly by. Her ribs
didn’t hurt too much unless she moved too fast. She could sleep on her side,
instead of on her back, a big plus, Buffy thought. Every night she would fall
asleep with her head resting on Spike’s stomach, listening to him read to her
about the devious and sometimes dubious adventures of Edmond Dantes just to
wake up wrapped up in his arms. He only read a couple chapters a night, drawing
out the story, but she didn’t care. It felt so natural to listen to him read.
That realization made Buffy reel. She hopped up from the bed and staggered out
into the living room as fast as she could. It felt natural, with Spike? That
wasn’t right. She shouldn’t feel so comfortable with him, shouldn’t trust him.
She regretted it the last time. But the fact remained that she did feel
comfortable with him and somewhere, very deep down, she trusted him and it
scared her.
Spike walked into the
living room, looking for Buffy. He was enjoying holding her warm pliant body
next to his when he felt her stiffen and crawl out of the bed. She practically
ran out of the room, making Spike wonder what was wrong. He gave her a minute
or two alone and decided to head out after her.
She was standing next to
the empty mantle; the owner of the painting came yesterday to pick up the
piece. Her eyes were wide and her skin pale as he watched her pace. He wondered
what had her that agitated but decided to let her walk out her energy. The
doctor still had not given her his consent to skate or weight train and he found
she had an extraordinary amount of energy. The second day after her attack, she
refused to lie in bed like how he wanted her. It seemed to Spike that every
time he would turn his back, she would sneak into her workroom. When he came to
check on her, she was missing from the bed and he would find her standing
stiffly in front of a canvas, moving the brush delicately across it. Each time,
he would get her back in bed, only to have her sneak down the hall again.
A couple days ago, Spike
escorted Buffy to the facility that held Joyce. Normally, Buffy would walk or
grab a cab if she had a painting with her, but Spike refused to let Buffy go
alone. Buffy lead the way into the facility. Spike didn’t know what to expect.
On one hand this woman was Buffy’s mother, someone she respected and loved
dearly. On the other hand, she married the weasel Hank and stayed with him all
those years. Buffy rounded a corner and entered a room, Spike following her. In
the center of the room was a single bed with a frail woman sitting up, drinking
hot chocolate. She looked over at her visitors and smiled. The resemblance was
amazing. Despite the difference in age and hair color, no one would ever
mistake the relationship between them. Buffy, without hesitation, went over to
hug the diminutive woman. Her short, dark ash blond hair hung limply, curling
at the ends, it contrasted with the long, straight, light blond Buffy sported.
The premature wrinkles around Joyce’s face stretched as she smiled at her
daughter. "Buffy, I’m so glad you came."
Buffy smoothed down an
errant hair on Joyce’s head. "It’s Thursday, isn’t it?" Buffy sat
down next to her mother, holding on her hand. Buffy was thankful Joyce had not
picked up on the fading bruises on Buffy’s face or her stiff gait.
"Of course, dear.
Who do we have here?" Joyce’s soft eyes landed onto Spike’s white head.
"My name is
William, Ms. Summers." Spike came slowly to the bed, on the same side as
Buffy. He took Joyce’s hand and kissed the thin skin.
Joyce in turn smiled
brilliantly, "Call me Joyce, please." Spike nodded and rested his
hand on Buffy’s shoulder. "Are you a friend of Buffy’s?"
"Yes, Ma’am."
Spike squeezed Buffy’s shoulder, afraid she would ruin the agreement with her
mother.
"Oh, don’t ma’am
me, mister." Joyce gently scolded Spike. "Would you two like a cup of
Cocoa? Or tea?"
"None for me, Mom.
William?" Buffy looked at Spike for the first time since the entered the
room. He saw trepidation in her eyes.
"Do you think they
have some of those little marshmallows?"
Joyce’s kind eyes
crinkled up as she smiled. "I believe they do." After Joyce called
the cafeteria to ask that they bring another cup of cocoa with marshmallows,
Spike sat down next to Buffy, holding her hand. The gesture was not lost on
Joyce and she gave Spike a knowing wink. Spike got along very well with Joyce,
his seemingly natural charm wooed Buffy’s mother, having her insist he come
back and see her again.
Spike chauffeured Buffy
to the gallery whenever she wanted to go. He was too afraid to go to work the
past week, knowing Buffy would try to walk wherever she wanted to go if he
wasn’t there. Buffy found it incredibly funny how Spike would jump at her every
whim, enjoying the faux relationship. Every once in while Buffy would remember
the first night and the anger bubbled within her. A few times Spike had caught
her in the memory and ended up with his feelings on the floor, totally
eviscerated by Buffy’s callous words, but knowing he deserved them.
Their life started to
calm down into a routine. Spike started going to work in the afternoons,
spending the mornings cuddling with Buffy, watching her paint, and making sure
she was safe at the gallery. He started to bring work home to toil on at night
while Buffy painted or did her rehabilitation exercises. To Buffy’s dismay,
Spike would pick her up at six from the gallery. The one time she walked home
with Dawn before he came to pick her up, he virtually ripped her a new ass. She
was amazed at how angry Spike was, even while they ate dinner with Dawn. Dawn
was astonished at the show of concern Spike displayed, even though he was
volleying from yelling to sulking. He finally got over it when Buffy promised
not to walk home again and wait for him. She would have promised anything to
get rid of the sulky Spike. Yelling and anger she could handle, but his pout
was driving her crazy.
Spike took the whole day
off on Thursdays to go see Joyce with Buffy. They were getting along
wonderfully, even when Spike would visit Joyce without Buffy. He found that
even in her weakened mental state, she was a kind woman. Even on her bad days,
Spike would drink a cup of cocoa or two while he sat and held her small hand.
Life progressed for
Buffy. She finally got permission to skate again. She found that her injuries
and subsequent break from the ice made it a bit harder to do her jumps. She
worked heavily on the weights, trying to make her legs and abdomen even
stronger than before. She trained hard, starting practice at six in the
morning, a fact that Spike had tried to talk her out of.
Days turned into weeks
as the couple became more comfortable with each other and their new lives.
Buffy never questioned Spike about Hank and what was happening on that end, but
she did find out from her mother that Hank had retired from the company and now
was living a life of leisure.