By Ehann

Part 7: Clear Waters

It was the sound of the back door opening that dragged Buffy back from her semi conscious state. She lifted her head from Spike’s chest, where she’d been listening to his heart not beat. She sometimes wondered if she’d ever get used to that.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Buffy called back towards the house. She sat up, pulling Spike to a sitting position.

“Hey! I was—”

Buffy cut him off. “What exactly?” She sounded amused. “Laying around, reveling in the afterglow?”

“Well, yeah, Same’s you.” He cocked his head to the side and smiled.

Her stomach flipped and she swallowed... When he gave her that sexy smile, she could almost forget that he was a vampire. In fact, she decided, if she ever fell in love with him—her stomach flipped again at the mere thought—it might very well be that devastating smile that tipped her over the edge.

Buffy had to force her mind back to the situation at hand. All her clothes below the waist had been cheerfully shredded by her very enthusiastic lover. Her shirt lay in a heap a few feet away. Risking a glance at Spike, she noticed that he was hardly better off. His black shirt hung in tatters, and the buttons had all been ripped from his black jeans. As for the duster, well…Buffy figured that since the two of them had been lying on it for some time, it had probably had seen better days.

“Get up,” he said. She did so, and he picked up the leather coat, shaking it out. “Here,” he ordered, holding it out to her.

Buffy simply stared at him, dumbly, thinking of all the times she had fought him while he wore that coat, thinking about the original Slayer to whom it had belonged. She took it from him, and slid her arms into it, feeling wrapped up in his very essence. Her hand stole along the soft leather. “Thanks,” she told him finally.

He snorted. “Don’t go getting all attached now, Slayer. It’s just a loan, mind. I’ll be taking that back in a little while.” He peeled off the remnants of his shirt and tied it around his waist, covering up the fact that his pants were sadly lacking some buttons. “There. All presentable, love.”

“Come on.” She picked up her shirt and stuffed it into the deep pocket as they walked to the house.

“I’m coming with you?” He sounded…perplexed.

Buffy looked annoyed. “Look. Don’t get weird on me now, Spike. I told Dawn this afternoon, and—”

“You told the Bit?” Amazement was clearly evident in his voice.

She closed the distance between them. “Was I not supposed to?” she asked acidly. “They know. And you better get used to the idea of people knowing since I’ll be telling Xander and Anya next. Now, come on. I’m not going in there by myself.” And she stalked across the yard.

Spike stared after her for a long moment. She’d done it. She’d really gone and done it. Told her best friend and only family. That had to mean something. He strode quickly after her. Buffy was waiting for him by the door. He opened it for her, and followed her inside.

He gently shut the door behind him while Buffy craned her neck, listening for Dawn and Willow.

“Here’s a question, love. If Nibblet and the Wicca know about us, why are we sneaking around, still?” He leaned back against the door and gave her a penetrating look.

Buffy glared. “Hello? Half naked here.” She gestured at her ripped pants. “Really not wanting to make a first impression as a couple this way. She sighed and added, “Let’s go upstairs and find some clothes that aren’t shredded.” She took his hand and tugged him to the steps.

They heard the water running in the bathroom as they passed it on the way to Buffy’s room. She heard a tinny sound coming from Willow’s –Mom’s— room. Probably listening to a tape of her class, Buffy figured. Willow must have the volume on her walkman turned up pretty high though, if Buffy could hear it all the way out here.

Once in her room, she motioned Spike to come in, closing the door after him. Spike sat down on the bed and bounced experimentally. Buffy went to her closet and riffled though her clothes for something he could wear.

“Hmm,” she turned to look at him. “This ought to do,” she announced, yanking a long sleeved black silk shirt from its hanger. She tossed it at him. Then she stood next to the bed and shucked off the duster. She laid it on the bed and kicked off her shoes.

Spike had slipped into the shirt. “The buttons are on the wrong side,” he informed her.

Buffy shook her head. “It’s a woman’s shirt, Spike. They’re supposed to be on that side.”

“Well, it’s bloody awkward trying to do them up this way, Slayer.” Fumbling a little he did most of the buttons, leaving his neck and throat exposed. His eyes drifted over her legs as she peeled off the remains of her pants. Naked from the waist down, and shirt floating around her she looked—“Delicious.”

Her head shot around in surprise. She took in his admiring gaze, the heat from his eyes. “I could say the same about you,” she said slowly. And it was true. The black silk brought out both the incredible blue of his eyes and the whiteness of his skin. His hair was mussed from their previous exertions and his lips were curved into a gentle smile, showing his dimples.

He held the smile, saying, “You better finish getting dressed, Slayer, or you won’t be wearing anything in a moment. And it wouldn’t do to have Little Sis find us.”

Buffy couldn’t look away from him. She swung a leg over his thighs, perching herself on his lap. She took his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. His hands were everywhere, turning ordinary skin into the most sensitive of erogenous zones. “Spike,” she murmured. His mouth slid along her neck, sucking gently at the skin, drawing the blood just under the surface. She moaned at the sensation.

He lifted his face from her neck and tangled his fingers in her hair. Squeezed her rump with the other hand. “Best get dressed now, Buffy,” and he sounded strained.

I did that, Buffy thought. Without even trying. It was heady, the feelings he elicited from her. Her heart was beating faster than it should, she knew. About time, part of her thought. She had been numb for so long…This sudden excess of emotion and sensation made her really understand that she had been walking around nearly catatonic for months.

Until Spike.

Now, it felt like a thousand watt bulb went off in her body every time he came near. A commotion that began with her heart and moved from there to all systems.

Yes. It began with her heart. Buffy could no longer that her heart was involved. She felt it as soon as she laid eyes on him—the clenching in her chest. When they argued, the twisting made her feel like her air had cut off. The very air felt different when she was close to him…like it felt right before a summer storm. Thick…tense…electric…

Perhaps emotion had become air to her, not unlike the way she breathed water in her dreams.

She shook her head, disbelieving. “What you do to me,” she whispered, holding his cheeks cradled against her palm. “It scares me to death. But at the same time…I feel like…” She tore her eyes away from his face and stared at the far wall of her room. Something hitched within her. “Like there’s this empty space in me when I’m not with you,” she whispered through a constricted throat. “And I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because it has to, it always does.” She laughed harshly, but there was nothing of humor in it. “Every time, I’ve ever had something good…it gets twisted.”

“Buffy…”

Buffy gathered her courage. “Even my life got so twisted…Jesus Christ, I can’t even die without it getting screwed up!”

Spike flinched. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, it’s true. You know it is. This…with you,” she gestured wildly at him “…is one of the few things in this world…” Her mouth worked but no sound emerged.

“Tell me,” he encouraged her. “Let it out, Buffy.” Finally, he thought, she’s dealing instead of punching. Trying to somehow find her way through the mire and be human enough to feel again.

Biting her lip, she slid off his lap. She went over to the window and stared out into the moonless night. “You heard me singing before, right?”

“Yeah,” he agreed warily. “What of it?”

“Before you came …I hear the music in my mind, from that night, you know? When I sing the songs…when you’re not there to sing your part I feel…” She swallowed. “Like I’m stuck between one breath and the next. Like my whole being has paused…resting between beats.” She turned, meeting his eyes.

“When you came to me…sang your part…everything in me that was tense, just wanted to relax, to melt.” Her lips trembled. “I could breathe again.”

Spike went to her. He stood behind her and gently gathered her hair, moving it away from her neck. “And…?” The word was barely a whisper. His lips brushed her skin. “Is that so bad?” His hands slid along her shoulders, down her arms. He wrapped his arms around her waist and he felt her lean back against his chest.

“I’m afraid that one of these mornings I’ll wake up and…maybe you’ll be gone.” She turned in his arms…faced him. “What would I do, then?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Buffy. If you believe anything, you can believe that. Hell, you’ve been trying for years to get me to leave town, and I’m still here.” He smiled then, crinkling his eyes and giving her the dimples. “And you barely tolerated me, then. D’you really think I’d walk after I finally got the chance to touch you…” He lowered his head, until his lips were a fraction away from hers. “Finally got to taste you…know you…I don’t think so.” Spike’s blue eyes were serious as he continued, “All the angels in heaven couldn’t tear me from you…”

Buffy had fixed her eyes on his mouth. Time was, when those lips had smiled at her, the only purpose was to inflict cruelty, to torment… How could it be possible, she wondered, that this man… no, this vampire could love her…could in fact love at all? Does it really matter why, she asked herself in the space between breaths. Some things simply are…He shouldn’t love me, and I…I shouldn’t…

“But I do,” she said, raising her eyes to meet his. He blinked, and Buffy realized that she hadn’t made any sense to him. “I do love you,” she clarified then held her breath.

Spike blinked again, and stared down at her, saying nothing. Finally, he managed, “You do? When did that happen?” He looked cautious, as if he was afraid that she was about to recant. Like he was steeling himself for rejection.

Buffy smiled a little. “I don’t know exactly…I just…I know that I do…”

His brows lowered and he searched for words. His face was nearly naked in vulnerability.

“How…?”

She shushed him with a gentle finger against his lips. She let her thumb brush his beautiful lower lip, savoring the sensation. “Look,” she began quietly. “After I …died…I know you were…broken. And after I got back…” She had to look away for a moment. “You were the only person I wanted to be with. That feeling kept getting stronger and stronger until…” Since I’m only dead to you, I’m saying stay away, and let me rest in peace…let me take my love and bury it…till you do, I’m telling you- stop visiting my grave…it hurts me more than you’ve ever guessed…but I can see you’re unimpressed, so leave me be…

“Until what, love?”

“Until you sang to me in your crypt. It…hurt me when you told me to stay away from you. You…weren’t supposed to be able to hurt me.” That curious clenching in her chest again. Was it this hard for everybody to confess pain, or was it just her?

He snorted.

“And that night, in the house behind the Magic Box…you were right. What you said.”

Now his brow furrowed. “I said a lot of things that night, love. Care to fill in the blanks a bit?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You asked me if I was afraid you were going to…hurt me, I mean.” She said soberly, “You were right. I was…I am.”

“Are you even real?” His voice was harsh, gravelly. “My luck, I’m bloody dreaming this entire conversation, and I’ll wake up any second…and you’ll be gone.” He pressed his lips together. One hand stole out, tangled in her hair at her nape. His fingers flexed, cupping her neck, pulling her closer.

She smiled at him, a real smile that reached her eyes as well as her mouth. Spike had never seen that particular look directed at him before… “Buffy…Buffy, I love you so much…”

Her smile widened, then, and she tugged at his head, kissing him, until all he could feel was her lips and tongue and body against his. The world spun crazily on its axis, and all he could do was wrap himself around this one girl, the last girl he should be with, really…His hands were everywhere, snaking up under her shirt, in her hair, pressing and touching every inch of skin he could reach…

A sharp rap sounded at Buffy’s bedroom door and Spike growled, he couldn’t help it. Buffy was staring at his face, and he realized that his visage had slipped into ridge and fang mode. He motioned with his head, like he was about to shake the gameface off, but she halted him with a look.

“Who is it?” She called through the door, without budging a fraction.

“Buffy?” Dawn’s voice floated in. “You’re back?”

The Slayer’s eyes never left Spike’s yellow ones. “Yeah, Dawnie. I’m back. We’ll be down in a few minutes, if you want to watch TV with me and Spike.” Her statement turned apologetic. As much as she wanted to keep doing what they had been doing—again!— she needed to spend some quality time with her sister.

They both heard the squeal from the teenager. “Hey Spike! I didn’t know you came by. I’ll go put some popcorn on, kay?” Then they heard Dawn thunder down the steps.

Buffy turned her attention back to Spike. He hadn’t changed back yet, and she peered at him almost critically. “I don’t know. You don’t look that much different.” At his shocked statement, she added, “What? You just…look like you, that’s all. Not like I haven’t seen you vamp out before, you know.” She grinned. “Randy.”

“Now, that’s bloody below the belt, Slayer,” he grumped. “No cause to be insulting…” His forehead smoothed out and his eyes faded into blue.

She shook her head and headed to her armoire to find a pair of sweats to watch TV in. She watched Spike watch her as she dressed. When she was ready, she took his hand, and said, “Come on. We have to do battle with a bin of Jiffy pop.”

But he tugged on her hand, instead. She turned back to him, expectantly. “Tell me again,” he said. “So I know I’m not dreaming.”

Buffy didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She stepped closer, pressing her hip against his pelvis. She leaned up and whispered it in his ear, “Even though it’s crazy…I do love you.” She paused, then kissed his lips softly. “Dawn’s waiting. Let’s go, Spike.”

Dreams of Light