Spike sat on the couch,
looking at the new painting over the mantle… a gray whale sticking its
grotesque head out of the water. He shook his head, only Buffy would find art
in that. He listened for the noise of her coming home, to him, but only silence
greeted him. He took another sip of his whiskey; the fire burned his throat,
making him feel something.
Last night was like an
epiphany that never was realized. They ended up sitting on a park bench in the
middle of the elementary school playground. They sat quietly, not quite knowing
how to fix the riff between them, but knowing the other person was ready and
willing. They just weren’t able. They didn’t talk about her absence or the
deal. She talked about the weather and he updated her on the different business
deals he was working on. When dawn approached, he asked her back to the
apartment, but she refused. She wasn’t ready for that. He watched her drive off
in her car as light broke over the horizon, leaving him to go home to the
apartment, now filled with Buffy’s belongings.
He walked into the
living room and saw the huge canvas filled with the whale breaking the surface
of the water, staring at him with his one big eye. He moved around the
apartment and saw that she dumped the rest of her belongings in the spare
bedroom. He noticed she hadn’t collected much. She had three suitcases and her
art supplies. Venturing into the room, he saw familiar and new paintings. Spike
didn’t sleep in the bed, too many memories, especially now that she was back.
So there he was on the couch, drinking his whiskey as the sun peaked in the sky
and the whale followed his every move. It felt like the whale was looking through
him and knew every little secret and nuance Spike hid. Rubbing the palm of his
hand over his eyes, Spike put his drink down and closed his eyes. Rest would be
good.
~*~*~
Buffy knocked quietly,
not really sure why she was knocking on her own apartment door. She was the one
that paid the rent all these months, it was hers, right? Losing her confidence,
Buffy stepped away from the door, ready to walk back down the stairs and out to
her car when the door flew open. A shirtless Spike leaned against the jam with
one arm above his head. His hair was ruffled and his eyes looked dark and
sleepy as he peered out into the hallway to see who dare bother him. When his
eyes fell on her she saw him change. He immediately stood straighter and tried
to tame his wild hair with his fingers. Without words, Spike moved to let Buffy
into the apartment.
Standing in the living
room, she looked around. Yesterday, she was not really surprised to find him
still living here, but she was amazed that he had not changed anything about
the décor. Most of it was still hers. She turned back to face Spike only to
find him looking at her like she was a steak and he was a starving man. With a
shy smile she sat on the couch, looking at the whale painting. "Hey you
moved it!"
"Yeah," Spike scratched
his eyebrow with his thumb as he made his way over to the chair. "he was
staring at me." The painting was leaning against the wall with the back of
the canvas showing.
Buffy laughed, genuine
laughter directed at him. "I think he can see into my soul."
"Bloody hard to get
any sleep when he’s staring holes through you," Spike shook his head.
Buffy looked around and saw his pillow and a blanket on the couch.
"You slept out
here, why?"
"Couldn’t sleep in
there," he pointed at the bedroom, "when I know you were near… it’s
ours."
"Oh." The
couple fell silent, still not knowing where to go. Were they together again?
Stepping into the apartment, Buffy wanted to throw herself at Spike and feel
him again. His kisses, his touch, his voice vibrating through her.
"I don’t know what
to say… what I need to say… what you need to hear." A tear formed in
Spike’s eye. "Whatever it is, I would say it and mean it… please, tell me
what I need to do, say, be…" he dropped down on one knee and crawled over
to her, kneeling a few inches from her. "I’ve been in hell these past
months not knowing, not understanding… not with you." His hands were
shaking when they came up and rested on hers. "I’ve missed you… not just
in the bed, but everywhere. I miss your company, your friendship. I just want
to start over, can we do that?"
"I don’t think we
can." Buffy whispered, moving her hands so their palms were together.
"Can we try?"
Spike looked in Buffy’s eyes, glistening with moisture. She smiled and nodded.
~*~*~
The day was spent in
quiet amazement. They touched and cuddled on the couch. Talking softly as if
they were revealing the most precious secrets of their world. "Where were
you, pet?"
She looked up at him,
"Huh? Oh, Bodega Bay."
"Oh, was it
nice?" Spike tightened his grip on her.
"Mmm, very nice.
But colder. Want to see some pictures?" Spike nodded numbly, he was
overcome with the need to know where she had been. She got up and held her hand
out to him. Taking it, he was lead into the spare room, filled with her
belongings. Buffy showed Spike some of the paintings she created during her
absence: the beach that she lived on, the harbor, the valleys of spring flowers
blooming, and her Uncle Rupert’s house.
"Looks like a
lovely area, pet." His hands rested on her hips while they stood back and
looked at the paintings.
"Oh, it was… so
peaceful." Her wistful tone cut at Spike, deeply cut.
Letting her go, he
turned and walked out of the room, "Guess that’s why you cut yourself off
from everyone."
Buffy followed him after
she heard his hurt tone, "What? What’s wrong, William?"
"Nothing,
everything is bloody perfect. You had a perfect house on a perfect beach near a
perfect bay. Your life was bloody perfect!" Spike’s voice rose with every
word.
"What? William?"
Spike stalked over to his whiskey, pouring a half of a glass and swallowed it
quickly. "What’s gotten into you?"
"What’s gotten into
me? Come on, love, what do you expect from me? A happy dance? You left
me." Spike pointed at his chest. His lips twitched into a self-deprecating
smile, "I loved you and you left me." His lips jutted out in a pout
with his declaration, Buffy’s heart melted. "You were…" he waved his
hand towards the paintings in the spare room, "there, and I was here. No
one would tell me anything." She saw him fight the tears in his eyes.
"Bloody uncle of yours returned all my letters."
His jaw twitched and
Buffy was afraid he would break the glass he was holding, "Calm down
William… no one knew, at least…" she stopped and inhaled, "not many.
The ones that did know, well… they stayed quiet because I didn’t want to be
found."
Spike collapsed on his
knees, staring at Buffy, "Was it so awful? Was I that awful?"
Buffy quickly walked
over and knelt in front of him, "Oh no, William. Don’t think that."
Her hand came up and cupped his jaw. His tears ran openly down his face.
"I needed time. I was so confused." She felt her tears run down her
own face. "I… I didn’t know how I felt, I was so confused."
Spike looked up into her
wet eyes, "What do you feel?"
"I… uh… I… William, I was so confused."
"Are you still
confused?"
"I… uh…
William…" Buffy looked into his eyes, knowing he knew her secret.
"Are you still
confused?" His voice dipped low, caressing her with words.
"No," Buffy
took one deep breath. "I love you."
Hope bloomed in Spike
when he finally heard her words, "Really? You mean that?" Buffy
nodded as Spike grabbed her and hauled her closer. His arms banded tightly
around her and he let the tears and insecurities wash out of him. "I’m so
sorry, pet. I just wanted you, needed you, loved you so bloody much."
Buffy smiled through her
tears and labored breathing. "I love you too, William."
Buffy clung to Spike and
Spike clung to Buffy as their emotions finally made it to the surface, refusing
to be pushed down. Spike moved his head back to look at her. With tear tracks
down her face and makeup smeared, she couldn’t be any more beautiful. They
melted together: lips, arms, torso, legs. It didn’t matter. They were together,
they were one, they were perfect.
16 months later…
Spike sat behind his
desk, diligently working. Proud that the company did a total turn around in the
past couple years. The stockholders were happy, the employees ecstatic, and
most of all Spike was happy. The silver band on his left finger glinting in the
fading daylight brought his thoughts from work. Running a hand through his
bleached hair, Spike smiled to himself. This life, his life, was wonderful and
couldn’t get any better. He looked at the picture on his desk and smiled. It
was their three-month anniversary today and he wanted to go home.
Gathering up the
paperwork to bring it home, he closed his black leather briefcase, a Christmas
gift from Buffy. Spike walked past his secretary and out to his car. Oh life
was good! The sun was out, birds sang their melody, and he was going to see his
wife. Spike drove through the streets easily and headed to the gallery. He
stopped on the way to pick up a dozen blood red roses for Buffy. He hopped out
of the car and headed into the gallery. Dawn glanced up when he entered the
front of the store. She had graduated college and stayed on to help Buffy with
the business management side of it. Grateful that she freed Buffy up for more
important things like him, Spike always had a smile for the kid. "Hey,
Spike. She went home early." Dawn said quickly, avoiding eye contact.
"Is she
alright?" Spike set the roses down and looked at her.
"Um, yeah. All
right. Just a little woozy." Dawn turned around, and started to shuffle
papers.
"Dawn?" Spike
growled her name.
Dawn sighed, she hoped
he wouldn’t come into the store today she hated lying. "She’s fine
Spike." Spike eyed the girl warily and picked the roses back up. He walked
out without saying goodbye, his thoughts directed totally on Buffy. The past
week she had been whiney and picky. Nothing he did seemed to please her. Spike
wondered if she came down with a flu or a cold.
Driving up to their
house, Spike’s wedding present to Buffy, he cut the engine off. The house, a
two story three bedroom colonial sat on a quiet cul-de-sac. Buffy parleyed the
enclosed sunroom as her new studio. Her argument was that it was best to paint
in natural light. She gave him the basement, allowing him to decorate it as
his. Black paint, a brand-new stereo system, built in speakers, wide screen
T.V., wet bar, and a leather couch transformed it into what Buffy lovingly
nicknamed ‘The Crypt.’ Spike let Buffy make all the rest of the design choices
in the house. She always asked his opinion, but Spike insisted she had better
taste and if the design didn’t include flowers, he would be all right.
He quickly walked
through the garage and into the house. The kitchen was dark, as the rest of the
first floor. Stepping up to the second floor, Spike spied a light on their
empty spare bedroom. They hadn’t gotten to decorate it yet. Spike walked into
the room, surprised to see Buffy laying on the floor with her hands behind her
head. Her legs swayed a bit as she hummed a childhood song. "Buffy?"
She jumped a bit when he spoke, she didn’t hear him run through the house. She
greeted him with a bright smile and patted the carpet next to her. Her
engagement and wedding ring glinted in the light. Spike came in and sat down
next to her. Grinning, he swooped down to capture her lips. "What are you
doing in here, petal?"
Buffy smiled again and
looked around, "What do you think? Green walls?"
"To match your
eyes?" Spike teased and lay down on his side, facing her. His head propped
up on one hand, allowing his other to play with her hair.
"Hmm, no, not to
match my eyes." She looked shyly over at Spike. His face was alight with
curiosity. He bent down to nuzzle her cheek. "I was thinking green is
pretty neutral and cheery."
Confused, Spike propped
his head up again, "I thought we decided to keep the rooms white until we
figure out what to do with them."
"Well, I know what
we are doing with this one." Buffy smiled and laid her hands on her
stomach, watching Spike.
"Another studio?
Pet, don’t you think two is enough?" Spike teased Buffy.
"No, not another
studio. I thought you loved my paintings?"
"I do, love. So not
another studio. What then?"
"A bedroom."
Buffy looked at the ceiling, suppressing her smile. Sometimes he was so dense.
"Another bedroom?
He already have ours and the guest room. We don’t need another bedroom."
Spike pouted.
"Yes we do."
Buffy took her hand and reach for his. She brought his palm to her stomach and
let it rest. "Or, to be exact in eight months we will."
Spike’s eyes widened in
comprehension, "Do you mean? Are you?"
"Pregnant? Yes, I
am." Spike moved so fast, Buffy didn’t even see him. He covered her face
in kisses and his hands explored her stomach. Every inch of her was covered by
the time Spike came up for air, both panting with want and need.
"Oh my god, am I
hurting you?" Spike slid off of Buffy quickly, afraid he had done
something.
"No, it’s ok. I’m
ok." Buffy rolled on top of Spike, straddling his hips. "I’m more
than ok."
Spike grinned up at her
with his hands on her hips. She looked radiant. Her golden hair tousled from
his fingers, lips swollen from his kisses, and eyes dreaming of their child.
Naked desire flared in his eyes. Buffy say the moment when the mood changed.
His hands stilled and his pupils dilated. Smiling as sweetly as she could,
Buffy swiveled her hips on his, grinding her groin into his growing erection.
Spike whispered, "Guess we’re going to have to celebrate."
"I supposed we have
to." Buffy smiled and started to unbutton Spike’s shirt. His tie already
gone, she displayed his chest. "Mmm, celebrate it real nice."
Buffy squealed as Spike
rolled them on the floor, switching positions. "No alcohol for you, so
what does that leave us? Seems to me, Mrs. Winthrop, someone is a little over
dressed." Spike quickly divested Buffy of her clothes, leaving his panting
and writhing on the carpet below him. He shucked out of his pants and boxers
rapidly
Lying down, Spike
watched Buffy. Her skin glittered with perspiration, and eyes watching him
watch her. Everyday, he fell more in love with her. Her strength, her energy,
her enthusiasm. Buffy, knowing he had slipped into his poetic and reflective
thought reached out and grasped his cock. Squeezing it lightly, she ran her
thumb around the tip. "Think someone wants to join the celebration."
Groaning, Spike touched
her breast reverently. "It’s hard to believe that there’s someone growing
inside you." Spike’s lips touched hers. Breaking away, he continued,
"In a few months these will be ripe and full with milk." His head bent
and he sucked her nipple into his mouth. "Mmm, delicious." Spike
moved his head to her other nipple, laving it with the same treatment the other
on received. He inhaled her sweet scent. Such power and grace, the best part
was it was his. Buffy wrapped her legs around Spike when he moved over her.
Wanting and needing to feel him slide into her. Feeling his thrusts. Spike
moaned when Buffy positioned him right at her entrance, not leaving her intent
a mystery. Sliding over her, he captured her mouth, sucking on her bottom lip.
Simultaneously, he sunk down, penetrating her. Twin sighs of relief echoed
through the empty room.
Moving gently, Spike’s
eyes watched Buffy’s. Blue and green collided, speaking to each other. Buffy’s
hips moved, meeting Spike’s. The energy swirled around them, creating a cocoon
of love. Spike shifted, allowing deeper penetration, hitting Buffy’s g-spot
just right. Her eyes widened as the pleasure overwhelmed her. She felt her
muscles start to contract, free from her mind, the fluttered around Spike.
Feeling the exquisite contraction of her muscles, Spike fell over the
precipice, too, spilling his seed into her womb. Rolling over, Spike brought
Buffy up on his chest to rest.
Oh, yes, his life just
got better.
A/N:
Now, this is the
END