Previously in "Sum": A freak accident has split Buffy into two not-so-equal pieces. The Scoobies are trying to find a way to fix things, while the girls are up to tricks. Buffy needs to talk to Spike about last night . . .
Chapter 9 In the now
She sat on the stairs, watching him sleep.
Above, the house was finally quiet. Buffy had pitched in, making twelve
breakfasts, helping to find book bags and weapons and hair brushes, but her
heart wasn’t in it.
She had wanted it to mean something. The passion, the vulnerability, the joy he
had shown her last night seemed meaningless now. She was the pale copy. He
wasn’t interested in what she had left to offer. She dropped her chin, blinking
back tears.
When she looked back, he was watching her.
“You’re awake,” she said pointlessly.
He propped his head up on his hand. “Where’s everyone?”
“Dawn and Willow are at school, and Xander’s at work. Slayer Buffy has all the
Potentials out for a run and then weapons training.” She began fidgeting
nervously with her hands, her words running together. “Andrew made Anya take him
grocery shopping. He’s taking the whole supply sergeant role way too seriously.”
He eyed her quizzically, sitting up on the edge of the cot. “Something wrong,
luv?”
She tried not to let her agitation show. “Course not. What could possibly be
wrong?”
“You tell me,” he said patiently.
“I mean, so what if I’m in pieces?” She began pacing. “So what if my friends are
going on with their lives? Who cares that some unspeakable evil wants me and a
bunch of girls dead? What difference does it make that I can’t do anything about
it? And what could possibly be wrong with the fact that you had sex with her
last night?” The hysteria bubbled forth, making her words a high pitched screech
as she rounded on him angrily.
He dropped his head with a growl. “She’s got a big mouth.”
“Oh, that’s not even the best part! She didn’t have to tell me. I felt it all
for myself! I get to know the joys of your touch when you’re touching someone
else!” She was not going to cry, dammit!
“Christ.” He stepped towards her, reaching out. “Buffy, it didn’t mean
anything.”
She struck his hand away. “No, I’m sure it didn’t mean a thing. Except that now
we know, don’t we?”
“Know what?” She could hear the anger rising in his voice.
“We know that given the choice, you prefer the strong, brutal part of me to the
normal woman.”
“You’re daft!”
“Am I? I can’t believe I bought all that crap about waiting and talking and
doing it right. You just aren’t interested in a woman who can’t knock the shit
out of you, are you?”
“Funny how I can’t seem to tell the difference.”
“Oh yes, I’m sure. But you still didn’t say no to her, did you?”
The gathering of his eyebrows was barely perceptible, but it sent a stab of cold
fear through her. “Oh my god, you did. And she still . . .” Her hand flew to her
mouth as a wave of nausea overwhelmed her.
“No.” He grasped her shoulders, looking square in her eyes. “No, Buffy, she
didn’t. It was totally consensual. Eventually.”
She sank down on the bed. “Eventually?” she asked in a small voice.
He sighed and sat down next to her. “She was very . . . determined.” He took her
hand in his, tracing gently along the veins mapping under her skin. “I didn’t
choose, Buffy. I can’t. You’re both her. Strong and soft. Brutal and gentle.
Hard and giving. It’s all Buffy. Just because it’s split up into little yin-yang
packages doesn’t mean I can pick and choose.”
“And last night?”
“I meant what I said at Harris’ place. I thought I was gettin’ a second chance
with you, and I wanted to do it right. When we got back here and found out . . .
well, I knew there was no second chance. What happened between me and her last
night wasn’t about love or desire. It was about seeing to her needs.”
“And you hated every second of it.”
“Not entirely, no. But it was like putting myself back into the hell we made of
last year.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because she needed it.”
“What if I need it?”
His eyes softened as he reached up to brush her cheek with his knuckle. “I’m not
going to deny you any more.”
“What about her? Afterward, when we’re all one again?”
He shrugged. “I’ll give her the stake myself. I can only be in the now. And I
promised to take care of her. That means taking care of you. Both of you, ‘s
long as you are here.”
One small hand reached up to tenderly stroke his cheek. That’s when he saw the
mottled bruise on the inside of her bare arm, a dark purple oblong almost the
size of a half dollar.
“What happened?”
“My better half. We were experimenting on each other.”
“Not better. Just different.” And he bent his head to gently kiss the tender
injury.
Her soft gasp was enough to encourage him to continue. He softly drew his lips
along the length of her muscle in slow, ever-widening circles. A fleeting
contact with the inside of her elbow drew another soft gasp from her, and he
focused on the tender skin there as her fingers tangled into the soft curls at
the base of his neck. He sketched delicate curlicues into the crease of her
elbow with the tip of his tongue, then freed his head to run lines up the length
of her forearm, pausing to lip at her wrist before descending again.
Her pulse pounded against his lips as he kissed the joint of hand and arm. He
outlined the circle of her palm in the softest of kisses and slowly dragged his
lower lip up the length of each finger, closing his lips over the very tip.
When he looked up at her, her eyes were closed, head tilted back, mouth slightly
open. She opened her eyes and he could see the hazel turned dark with desire. He
lifted her other hand and gently reversed the attentions he had paid to the
first, never breaking the connection of her gaze.
He continued back up along the length of her arm, slowly mirroring the caresses
he had placed on the other, watching her the entire time. But when he reached
her shoulder he continued up, gingerly stroking her collarbone, suckling
momentarily at the heartbeat fluttering at the base of her neck, up along the
column of her throat and the angle of her jaw to settle a soft, generous kiss on
the warmth of her mouth.
She sank into him, her arms drawing his head and chest closer as she returned
his kiss, lips and tongue meeting softly but with a new kind of hunger, the
desire to know, so different from the possessive kisses they had shared in the
past. Slowly they explored each other, mouths soon joined by the soft foray of
hands, each tenderly roaming faces and shoulders and backs. It was a gentleness
she had never allowed them to share before, but now she gave it willingly,
opening up to him and drawing him in to her.
The warmth of her hand on the bare skin of his back drew a gasp from him and he
arched into her, savoring the sensation. Her womanly smile made him tremble as
her other hand joined the first under his shirt to gently stroke the planes of
his back, sliding around to map out the definition of his stomach and chest, her
eyes closed in pleasure. Without separating, the two of them worked the shirt up
until he pulled it off over his head, dropping it to the floor as he recaptured
her mouth, his hands settling on the curve of her back to toy nervously with her
zipper.
“Please, Spike,” she murmured against his lips, arching against him.
Slowly he dragged the tang down with one hand, the other following over the bare
skin he revealed. The zipper stopped at the curve of her behind, but his hands
continued, cupping and caressing the firm roundness of each cheek, stroking her
closer against his hips before returning back up the vee of her now open dress
to slide the straps off her shoulders. She stepped back reluctantly, allowing
the soft fabric to slide down her body and pool at her feet, leaving her nude
before him save the soft white panties she wore.
He drank in the sight of her, exploring every inch of her with his eyes until
she turned her head aside, flushed in embarrassment. He stepped closer and
dropped his head to slide his lips along the top swell of her breasts. He
followed the curve along the outside edge, nibbling lightly at the sensitive
flesh where breast and rib met. She cried out softly, weaving her fingers deep
into his hair, not guiding or restricting but just holding.
He continued slowly circling the roundness of her breast, lips and tongue
spiraling slowly inward, covering every inch of the round flesh until he reached
its peak. He ran the flat of his tongue over her nipple, savoring the feel of it
crinkling and tightening against his skin before he sucked at it and released.
She mewed, arching her hips against him, but he refused to be guided, turning
his attention to her other breast, his hand cupping and pulling at the now
bereft one as he circled and stroked the other to equal sensitivity, rolling the
pebble of her nipple across his tongue in ecstasy.
He dropped to his knees, coursing soft, wet kisses over the velvet of her
stomach as he caught the elastic of her underwear in his fingers and slowly drew
them down, stroking the outside of her legs in his descent. He softly explored
the junction of leg and hip, resisting the desperate urge to bury his face in
the center of her arousal, so close to his sensitive nose. His palms slid up the
backs of her round thighs, fingers curled around to stroke the insides,
caressing so close to her center without touching. When his lips dropped to
follow his fingers, she collapsed to her knees with a sob.
His hands returned to her head, lifting the hair off the back of her neck as he
kissed her gently. “All right, luv?” he whispered.
She nodded quickly, her eyes closed. “Too much,” she answered huskily. Her hands
slid up his stomach and chest, out along his arms and slowly back. Her mouth
slowly followed, caressing the line of his collarbone and pectorals with warm,
open kisses and long, wet strokes of her tongue. She continued down, outlining
the definition of his stomach with fingers and tongue.
Her warm hand sliding along the length of his rock-hard cock broke him.
He was on his feet in a moment with her in his arms, and in three strides was
gently lowering her into his unmade bed. Her eyes and arms were open and
welcoming as he lowered himself between her knees.
“Yes, Spike, please!” she whispered so softly, the silk of her thighs against
his trembling in anticipation. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he
slowly pushed his length into her. “Oh! Oh god, yes! Spike!” She cried out, and
he watched in amazement as she broke around him, coming even as he finished
sheathing himself in her. He held her, placing gentle kisses on her face, softly
smoothing her hair back as she came back down.
She smiled beautifully at him, her eyes barely opened. He knew he was grinning
as well, but he didn’t care. This moment was perfection.
“I love you, Spike.”
He froze, the grin falling away. She clutched at him as he made to move away
from her.
“What? No, please, don’t go! What is it?”
“This,” he cursed hoarsely. “This isn’t real. You can’t love me.”
She held him tightly in place, her legs wrapped around his hips. “Yes, I can.”
She stroked his back and face and chest soothingly. “You said it yourself. We
can only be in the now. She may not let herself love you, but I do. Let me love
you while I can. So we both have that after.”
She kissed him then, warmly, erotically, soothingly, as the tension slowly
flooded out of him. She licked and nibbled along his neck and ears as he allowed
the passion to fill him again. Finally he raised his head, looked her in the
eyes.
“I love you, Buffy.”
She smiled as she kissed him, tears filling her eyes. “I love you, Spike! God, I
love you so much!”
He began moving his hips slowly, short strokes building into long ones as he
buried himself body and soul in her welcoming depths. He supported himself on
his elbows, his hands twisted in her hair, guiding her into his kisses as he
thrust against her. Her wet heat tightened around him as their kisses became
hungrier, the soft strokes on his back scratches, the gasps in his ear moans. He
rose up to look her in the eyes as he felt the familiar tightening inside. He
clutched at her hair, pulling, arching her up as he slammed deeper and deeper
into her, never breaking eye contact. The pressure building inside him came out
as a growl, the bed rocking so hard to their rhythm that it rattled the shelves
on either end. “God, Buffy . . . love you . . . so . . . damn . . .much . . .”
She clutched at him. “Please . . . god yes . . . Spike!”
He felt her seize around him, drove harder, swallowed her scream in a kiss as
she exploded. He gathered her close, kissed her hard and with one powerful surge
erupted deep inside her, his howl of ecstasy swallowed by her kiss.
They lay tangled in each other, slicked in her sweat as her breathing calmed,
sharing soft kisses and gentle, meaningless words. Finally, though, sounds from
the outside world filtered in, the voices of half a dozen girls ringing in the
back yard.
“Time’s up, pet.” He kissed her gently on the temple. “They’ll be looking for
you.”
She sighed and stretched, kissed him warmly and rolled to the edge of the bed,
snagging her panties with a groan. She smiled as she stepped into them, though,
watching him pull up his jeans. “Makes me wish Willow would take her time with
that solution.”
He smiled softly and cupped her cheek.
“What the hell is going on down here?”
The Slayer stood at the bottom of the stair, fist clenched in restraint. An
enormous bruise covered the goose egg pulsing just above her temple.
Spike went to her, barely touching the contusion as Buffy finished dressing.
“What happened?”
“I got . . . distracted.” She didn’t take her eyes off Buffy. “One of the girls
hit me.”
“With what? A club?”
She shrugged.
“What could have distracted you enough that one of those little bits could
wallop you like that?”
Buffy smirked. Slayer glared.
“I sense her, she senses me.” Buffy was unusually nonchalant.
“Yeah, and what am I supposed to do about it now?” The hostility and lust
seemed to pour off her in waves.
“Same thing I did last night.” She grabbed Slayer’s right hand and moved it to
her crotch.
“Girl’s best friend.” She started up the stairs. “C’mon, Spike, let’s get her
some ice while she takes care of . . . things.”
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