Chapter Text
Buffy could hear the rain pattering on the roof of the little cottage, the gentle ticking of the clock, but was ignoring the noises that were familiar to her after spending so much time in the small home. Her ears were trained beyond that, waiting to hear the rumble of a car engine, to hear the crunch of boots in the dirt.
Her eyes jumped to the clock. It was nearly one in the morning, and she frowned.
She was going to stake him. Or kick his ass. Or fuck him into next Tuesday. Jury was still out on how she was going to handle the blonde vampire when he got home.
Standing and walking to the small kitchen, she looked out the window into the dark, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Letting out a huff, she turned and walked back to the living room, grabbing the phone to listen to the message that had been waiting on the machine when she’d arrived home from helping with training the girls at the castle.
“‘Lo pet,” Spike’s voice was staticky as it came through the recording. “Just landed in London, headed back to you. I’ll, um.” There was a pause, a rustling noise. “I’ll explain when I see you, ya? Don’t wait up. It might be a bit.”
The line clicked off, and the message hadn’t changed from the previous dozen times she had listened to it over. She placed the receiver down, refraining from slamming it, instead imagining slamming her fist into Spike’s head. It helped slightly, but only for a second before the guilt hit.
He hadn’t explained why he left, he never did. But, she knew the reason. She knew it better than almost anything else.
It was the same reason he always left. The same reason he had stayed in LA with Angel and his crew after he’d become corporeal again, the same reason he’d denied her declaration of love at the Hellmouth.
“I’m going to stake him.” Buffy muttered aloud to the empty room. Her words lacked any conviction. She crossed her arms over her chest, a bit chilly, but too stubborn to go put another log on the fire. She twisted the ring that sat snugly around the middle finger on her right hand, the cool metal of the skull familiar as the groove dug against her skin.
The click of the doorknob made her head jerk to the side, a familiar tingle travelling from the back of her neck and down her spine. She stood up as the door swung open, revealing a soaking vampire. His usually gelled hair was soaked to his forehead, and he at least had the decency to look ashamed.
“Alright,” he started, hands out like she was a wild animal. Her hands curled into fists at her side. “I think-.”
“No!” Buffy cut him off with a shout. “You don’t think! You never think, because if you did, you would have considered talking to your girlfriend before disappearing for two weeks without so much as a call to let me know you weren’t a pile of dust somewhere!”
“I left you a note!” He argued, and Buffy marched over to him, shoving him back against the door.
“A note?” She yelled. “You left a sticky note that said ‘be back soon, don’t worry’!”
“I didn’t want you to worry!” He yelled back, and Buffy felt hot tears welling in her eyes as she clenched her hands into fists.
“Then you shouldn’t have left!” She shouted back, feeling a few tears escaping. The anger from Spike’s face vanished, and before he could try to help her she turned on her heel and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind herself. She paced for a moment before walking to her side of the bed and dropping to sit on the edge, wiping angrily at her cheeks.
She could hear Spike moving quietly around the cottage, shutting off lights and locking the door. When their bedroom door opened, Buffy remained still, shutting her eyes as he padded around the bed, his socked feet hitting the wooden floor with barely any noise.
“Slayer,” his voice was soft as he came to a stop directly in front of her. His hands fell gently to rest on her knees, and Buffy opened her eyes to find him crouched down before her.
“Willow couldn’t find you with a locator spell.” She explained, voice cracking a bit. Her hands fell to the bed and she dug her fingers into the thick blanket. “I thought something had happened to you, and-.”
“Hey, hey.” He reached for one of her hands, pulling it towards his face, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Buffy squeezed his hand in hers. “I knew if Red could track me, you’d hunt me down.”
“You can’t keep doing this.” Buffy told him, voice feeling tight and raw. “I don’t want to keep begging you to stay.”
“You don’t-.”
“I do!” She pulled her hand back, voice cracking as she let her now free hand move to rest along the base of her throat. She took a shaky breath, looking up at the wall instead of into his eyes. “It’s been five years since Sunnydale, Spike. I don’t know how else to prove that I love you.”
“Oh, pet, no.” Spike moved up so he was sitting on the bed beside her. Buffy frowned and met his eyes once more. “It’s not on you, you have to know that.”
“But you don’t believe it, do you?” She asked, and Spike sighed heavily. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I know you love me.” He told her, and Buffy shook her head, the tucked strand of hair falling free again.
“Do you?” She asked, tears starting to spill over again. “I can’t handle not knowing if you’re going to come back to me, Spike.”
“It’s not-.” Spike cut himself off, sucking in a sharp breath, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “It won’t happen again.”
“But it will!” She argued, voice breaking. He moved back to kneel back in front of her, tucking two fingers beneath her chin to force her to angle her head up enough that when she opened her eyes, she was staring into his.
“It won’t.” He repeated, voice firm. Buffy felt her lips wobbling, and could feel all the exhaustion from the past few weeks starting to catch up to her. They could finish their argument in the morning when she had the energy, so instead of speaking, she leaned in to kiss him.
Spike responded eagerly, as he always did, pushing up from his spot between her knees to meet her lips. Buffy let her hands knot into his wet hair, holding on tightly in a futile attempt to keep him there, to keep him with her.
He groaned at the tension, pulling his mouth back just enough to drag his lips down to press kisses to her jaw and throat, chilled from the rain against her own heated skin.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered against her barely-there tan, and she hooked her knees around his hips, locking her ankles behind his ass to drag their bodies closer together.
Spike continued to map out his own path across her throat, leaving no trace of skin untouched, hesitating at the base of her throat where a few sets of scars sat; from the Master, from Angel, from Dracula, and most recently, from him. Her breath hitched, but he moved on, pulling back just enough to drag her shirt up and off her body, his mouth finding her breast as her arms looped around his shoulders, his own hands wrapped tightly around her waist, cool fingers digging into her lower back, the chill of his metal rings a sharp reminder that he’d only just come home.
“Spike.” Buffy breathed out on a soft moan as his teeth scraped over her nipple, arching her back to press into the touch. She could feel his grin as he released her breast, pressing a chaste kiss to the now damp skin, before moving to give the other side the same treatment.
As he continued, Buffy let her head drop back between her shoulder blades, holding tightly to his head as her eyes fluttered shut, letting herself just enjoy his touch. If she had thought the sex was good when they were what she had once classified as a ‘dirty little secret’, it was mind blowing now that they had the love and trust and familiarity that had taken years to build up. He knew her body just as well as she knew his, knew how to build her up fast, how to make her come so hard her vision would go spotty, or how to draw it out.
He seemed keen on the latter option, his tongue tracing patterns into her sternum as he pulled her to the very edge of the bed, fingers pressing so tightly to her skin, he might actually leave bruises that would stay until the sun came up.
Then, he paused, for half a section. A younger, angrier, sadder version of herself wouldn’t have noticed. It was barely a fraction of a second, his nose pressed into the inside of her left breast, a small puff of cool air against her sweaty skin, a flutter of lashes, before he tried to continue on. Buffy caught him, hands in his hair, pulling him away from her chest and forcing him to look up at her.
“Hey,” she kept her voice soft, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. His eyes shut. “Hey, what’s going on?”
Instead of answering, Spike pushed up to kiss her again, more forcefully this time. Catching her off guard, he managed to knock her onto her back, swallowing her gasp with his mouth as he followed her to their bed, pressing the full line of his body against hers. The material of his shirt had warmed slightly, soft against her bare skin as his fingers slipped below the waist of the pants she wore, chilled enough against her hips that she broke the kiss with a gasp, jerking against him.
He didn’t let her get far, kissing her again, soft lips familiar, tongue meeting hers as she felt a flush starting to cover her body.
“Fuck, I love you.” He told her, voice firm as he ground his hips against hers, hard in his slightly damp denim jeans. Buffy sucked in a sharp breath.
“Then stop leaving.” She breathed, sliding one hand from his hair down his back to start pushing his pants off, using her heels to help the material along as it stuck to his legs. Spike pulled back, tugging his shirt up and over his head, shoving his pants far enough to kick them off, rushing but not so much that Buffy didn’t get to appreciate the flex of his muscles.
He moved back to kiss her, and Buffy grabbed his shoulder, trying to flip their positions, but Spike stopped her. He caught her hand, turning it to press a kiss to her palm, before looking back at her face. “Let me?”
She nodded, letting him slip his hands back below the waist of her pants, giving her ass a gentle squeeze, before he eased them down her legs, tossing them to the floor with the rest of their clothes. Buffy adjusted on the bed so her head was on the pillows, letting him follow her body, her arms open as he climbed into the V of her legs, meeting her in a kiss that was just on the right side of filthy.
She wasn’t surprised when he broke the kiss, moving his mouth down her body until his head was nestled between her thighs. Her hands threaded through his hair, eyes shutting as he pressed a gentle kiss to her core, chaste in comparison to what she knew was to come.
“Please.” She whined, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he spread her apart, gently kissing every inch of exposed skin, not enough. “Spike.”
“Do you trust me?” He asked, and Buffy forced her eyes open to look down, finding him staring up at her.
“Of course I do.” She told him honestly, mind racing to figure out what was going on in his head, but then his tongue was licking into her, and she lost her train of thought.
Spike had long since mastered the art of giving head, and had finessed his talent to what worked for her. He had once spent the better part of the afternoon going down on her, making her come until she was on the verge of blacking out, grateful that their little cottage was far from any neighbours who would most definitely have made noise complaints about them.
His hands wrapped around her thighs, fingers digging into the muscle as he proved just how much he didn’t need air, teeth grazing over her clit as his tongue pressed in deep. Buffy keened high in her throat, hands tangled in his mess of blonde, arching her back to press closer to his face, earning a growl from Spike that sent sparks of pleasure up her spine.
Releasing one of her thighs, he pressed a finger into her, curling it with a practiced ease in a way that made her breath catch, heels digging into his back.
“Oh fuck.” She gasped, nails digging into his scalp, her orgasm catching her off guard, her fingers tingling as she came down. Spike pressed a gentle kiss to her skin, before letting her legs slip from his shoulders, crawling up her body in a way that reminded her of a predator, eyes set on her face.
She accepted his kiss easily, tasting her own release on his tongue, barely having a moment to lose herself in the kiss before he was drawing back. She blinked up at him, his eyes soft but far away, lost in thought.
“Spike?” She asked, unease filling her chest, despite the endorphins still filling her system.
“Do you trust me as much as you love me?” He asked, and Buffy felt her own brow furrow. This was very far from the usual words exchanged in their bedroom.
“Spike, what’s going on?” She asked, starting to push off the bed. His hand pressed to her chest, forcing her back to the pillows, eyes dancing around her face in a way that made her stomach clench with nerves.
“Do you?” He asked, voice softer, eyes finally meeting hers. Buffy frowned, but pulled him down to kiss him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders to keep him there, a hollow ache trying to make itself known in her chest. Spike kissed her eagerly, as he always did, like it was their first and last kiss all at once; like it was new and magical, and like he may never get a chance again.
“More than you kn-oh.” Buffy moaned out the end of her sentence as he pushed into her, the initial stretch always rendering her a bit speechless. Spike ground against her, pressing several kisses against the sweaty skin at her temple, his own skin warming from the friction and heat of her own body.
“How do you want me?” He asked, voice a low rumble against the shell of her ear. Buffy dug her nails into his back.
“Fuck me,” she gasped, one knee hooking over his hip, her heel digging into his ass. “Please, fuck.”
Spike nipped at her ear with dull, human teeth, before pulling back from her, the sudden cool air against her chest a shock as he used a hand to grip their headboard, drawing his hips back frustratingly slow, before fucking back into her with enough force to slide her up the bed slightly. Buffy moaned, holding on tightly as he started fucking her in earnest, just on the right side of painful.
He dropped his hand from the headboard to the pillow beside her head, using his free hand to curl under her back, forcing her to arch up against him.
She could hear the bed knocking against the wall, the noises coming from her mouth barely intelligible, but she loved when he took control just as much as she enjoyed doing so herself.
“Like this?” He rasped against her jaw, licking the sweat away, and Buffy nodded, unable to make any real words. He tucked his face against her throat, pressing wet kisses to the skin there.
“I love you.” She gasped out, needing him to know, needing him to stay.
“Yeah? Slayer loves the big, bad, vampire?” He asked, and in any other situation, she would roll her eyes at him, but found herself babbling out something that sounded like an agreement. “Can you come like this?”
Buffy shook her head, needing more. She tried to turn her face down to kiss him, but he dodged her lips, nosing under her jaw to make her look up again, lips wet against her already damp skin.
“Do you love me?” He asked against her throat, and she nodded, a chill going up her spine as she felt the sensation against her throat of his bones shifting, anticipating making her clench down around him. When he spoke again, it was with the faintest of lisps. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” She gasped as he continued to pound into her, dropping her head back to bare her throat to him.
The sharp sting of his teeth piercing her skin had her screaming as she came, nearly blacking out with pleasure. He kept a steady pace, taking only a few small pulls of her blood as he worked her through it, simply holding his lips against the bite mark as she regained feeling in her toes.
Slumping back into the pillows, Buffy gave Spike’s shoulder a squeeze, her silent tell that she was good, that he could let go. His nails dug into her back, coming with a deep groan after a short time, holding her tightly for a long few moments.
As soon as he pulled out and fell to the bed beside her, Buffy followed his movements, curling against his side. His arm circled her shoulders, pulling her close and turning his head to kiss her gently, both still coming down from their highs.
“Go clean up, pet.” Spike told her after several minutes. “I’ll go out the fire and meet you in the shower?”
“Mm.” Buffy hummed into a final kiss before letting him pull away, too sated and sleepy to put up a fight. They got up and she made quick work of heating up the shower while Spike made sure the fire was safely out - they’d had a close call once when they’d both been drinking and had nearly had to rebuild their cottage, and he’d been intense about it ever since.
Buffy was just starting to scrub herself with her pink loofah when Spike slid into the large shower with her, taking it from her to clean her body. She let him, slumping back against him as he took extra care to clean the bite mark, kissing her skin when he was done.
Back in bed, Buffy pulled him close, his head pillowed on her chest. She let her fingers trail sleepily around his back as she started to fall asleep.
“Love you.” She murmured, unsure if he was even still awake, before dropping asleep.
Buffy had long since missed the sun when she woke up; the light grey sky consumed by clouds was enough to let her know it was time to get up. She stretched, limbs stiff from a restful sleep, when she froze, Slayer senses kicking in.
She was on a chest that felt familiar and wrong all at once; the muscles were right, but the skin too warm. He smelled the same, but the gentle beating of a heart was unfamiliar, as were the rise and fall of unconscious breaths that shouldn’t have been happening.
Slowly, she turned her face up, their positions having switched as she slept, the same sharp cheekbones and bleached hair she knew coming into her sight as she tried to figure out what could have happened over night and if she needed to kill whatever this was.
Then, he shifted, lips moving slightly as he started to wake up, and Buffy froze. He blinked a few times, before glancing down, alarm overtaking his blue eyes just as her instincts kicked in. They both jumped out of the bed, Buffy immediately grabbing the knife she kept between the mattress and box spring, holding it over the bed, towards the man who was pressed against the wall.
“What are you?” She snapped, fingers clenching as he glanced up at her, face pinkening as he took in her naked body, immediately averting his gaze.
“I - I’m sorry, Miss.” he stammered out, voice wrong. His accent, too soft.
“Where’s Spike?” Buffy demanded, not really caring about his discomfort.
“Please, I don’t - I don’t know!” He nearly cried, hands trying to cover himself. The blush was creeping down his chest. “I must have drank too much, I apologize. I just-.”
“How did you get here?” Buffy asked, grip relaxing on her knife as a sinking feeling hit her chest.
“Please, I’ll get my clothes and-.”
“William?” Buffy cut him off, praying she was wrong.
His eyes snapped open, meeting her gaze, and Buffy wanted to cry. He looked at her bare body again, before turning away again, but she caught the recognition of the name enough behind his eyes to want to scream.