By Ehann

Part 5: Impossible Dreams

He was dreaming of her. It had to be a dream. In real life she would never kiss him so tenderly, never run her thumb over his lower lip so all he felt was a wisp of sensation. He kept his eyes closed and returned the kiss. It had been years since he’d had a dream this vivid. The scent of her, tangy and fruity, rose up all around him coating his skin until all he could sense was her. Her scent, her skin, her lips…no, this must be a dream. Only in his dreams, did she lay her head down on his chest and simply be.

Spike slid without protest into deeper sleep.

The next time the feathery caresses brushed his lower lip, he made himself open his lids, just to prove that this wonderful delusion was just that—a delusion.

He jumped. The object of his affections had straddled his groin, and was leaning over him, staring directly into his eyes. “Buffy,” he breathed.

“Alive and in the flesh,” she answered softly.

“What are you doing here?” Watching me sleep again? Twice in two days…must be some sort of record. Either that or she’s about to give me the bloody send off.

She bit her lower lip and looked down. “Nothing, I just…” Her fingers traced light circles over his chest.

Spike caught her hands with his and stilled them. “What, love?”

Buffy’s mouth tightened. Then she looked toward the ceiling and rolled her eyes. “It’s stupid. I…just wanted to see you.”

He blinked. “Oh,” he said, surprised at her honesty.

“Look,” she said. “If you want to sleep for a little while longer that’s fine. I’m gonna…” She shifted her weight as if she was contemplating climbing off of him.

He slid his hands up and squeezed both of her upper arms. “Didn’t mean to sound so unappreciative, Slayer.” With a blurred motion, he had her pinned next to him. He stared into her stormy eyes. “Matter of fact, I’ve never woken up so nicely. Except for…” Yesterday. “A man could get used to it.” He waited for the stinging retort that she was sure to issue. But she gave him only a small smile. He saw her hand raise up and instinctively stilled, waiting for the blow. From the looks, probably gonna be a cross that would land on… his…cheek…what the fuck? Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear?

Her face froze. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“What way?”

“Like I’m some freak or something. God. Spike, I’m…sleeping with you. Why shouldn’t I—” She stopped abruptly, as if she’d said too much.

“Tell me,” he said husky tones.

Her eyes dropped to his neck and only his heightened hearing allowed him to interpret her mutter. “Why can’t I act like it?” She cleared her throat. “Is this just about sex for you? Bagging the slayer, like some notch or something, some prize?”

Spike looked at her, disbelieving. “Is this your idea of a joke, Buffy?” He pulled her arm away from his neck. “If I was a different man…” His jaw set, and he threw back the covers. He reached for his clothes and pulled them on with jerky movements. “How dare you!” His voice shook with fury, and he felt his face contorting, sliding for a moment into the demonic visage. He curled his lips and focused. Forced the demon down.

With all of his speed, he circled the bed, and jerked Buffy out of it. He held her arms just above the elbows. “What game are you playing at, Slayer? Taunt the lovesick vampire, just because you can?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Stuff it!” He lowered his face until their noses were nearly touching. “How many times am I supposed to tell you that I love you, and let you throw it back at me like it means nothing? This your new angle, pretend like you care? Oh, I haven’t forgotten your pretty words, ‘You’re not convenient, Spike,’” he mimicked in a falsetto.

“I’m not pretending.” Buffy said through gritted teeth. “Why are you acting like this? Do you even hear what I’m telling you?”

He let go of her so abruptly that she stumbled and nearly fell onto the bed.

“This is getting old, Slayer, and I’m sick of it. Just…” He shook his head and turned away. “Just go home to your sister and friends who can’t live without you. I’m not even alive to you…just stay away from me, Buffy.” His voice was flat. Final.

“Do I get to have my say now, you idiot? Because I pretty much think I’m due.” She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around roughly.

“Hurry up, Slayer. Like I said. This is getting old.”

“Fuck you.” She announced, and watched his eyes widen. “Please. Enlighten me. You go on and on about what an animal I am, how good in bed, whatever. Have you ever said one reason about caring about me, Buffy? No. All I get is ‘The only thing better than killing a Slayer.’ And I get that you say you love me, and maybe I even believe you. So tell me how come all we ever do is fuck?”

“Unbelievable. The reason why we only fuck,” he said coldly, “is because that’s how you like it. Ever since we kissed behind the Bronze, you made it perfectly clear that I was only good for one purpose.” He snorted. “Make that two. Can’t discount demon hunting with the gang, now can I?” Buffy simply stared at him, so he went on. “Calling me a thing,” he spat. “Convenient.”

“You know I didn’t mean that,” she whispered. “The only reason I said that was because…I wanted to hurt you.”

“Congratulations,” Spike sneered. “It worked. That made you happy, I’m sure.”

“Do I look thrilled, Spike? Anyway, if you hadn’t—” He still didn’t understand, Buffy thought. “I can’t even believe we’re fighting because I want to—”

“It’s called finishing a sentence, Buffy. Look into it.”

“Because I want it to be real,” she shouted. “Why is it,” she continued in a much quieter voice, “that I can only touch you if it’s about sex?”

He stared at her blankly. “What?”

“I mean…don’t you want to…” She swallowed over the rising lump in her throat, and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. “I don’t know…Sometimes I want to do this,” she said, stepping towards him. She hesitantly reached out, touched his shoulder lightly. His blue eyes stayed locked on hers. “And sometimes, I feel like…” Her fingers rose to play with the stray curl just behind his left ear. She shifted closer to him. “But mostly,” she said, “what I really like to do is…” Her thumb brushed across his lower lip.

“I need you,” she said baldly. “And I’m not talking about scratching an itch, as you put it. And I’m sorry that I haven’t told you before now, especially…especially since I know how much you needed to hear that. And could you please say something?”

“What part of ‘Willing Slave’ didn’t you get, Buffy?” His voice was gentle, in spite of the barb.

“Spike, I have to tell you something.”

He waited.

“What you said, the morning after we first…The Slayer thing? It really hurt me.” Why was it, she wondered, that it was always so hard to say those words. To tell someone the depth of the wound they’ve created.

His eyes widened. “No, love, you don’t understand. I told you, what, over a year ago, when the best night of my life was. He lowered his head. “I was trying to tell you that you were the best night of my pathetic life. Wasn’t supposed to be…It wasn’t supposed to hurt you.” He touched her hair.

“I told Willow about us,” Buffy said.

His hand stilled. “Are we an ‘us’ now?”

She blinked. “I am still standing here, right?”

A glimmer of a smile lingered on his face. “Right. Then it’s within bounds to do this.” His eyes never left hers as he lowered his head and kissed her. He put all of his emotion into it, making love to her mouth.

She was nearly panting by the time he pulled away. “That was…wow.” She paused, tried to form a coherent thought.

“You never answered my question,” Spike told her.

Buffy frowned. “Which one?”

He rolled his eyes. “Are we an ‘us’? You told Willow what exactly?”

She sat down on the bed, and tugged on Spike’s hand until he came down next to her. “I told her that we’ve been…involved since the big sing along. I told her that I…care about you—”

“You told Will that?” If she was telling her friends then she must be telling the truth. Spike couldn’t imagine her setting herself up for the Scooby backlash on a whim.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m gonna tell Dawn next. I think she’d want to know.”

“I miss her.” At Buffy’s questioning look, he glared and said, “Oh, that’s right. I forgot that my watching her all last summer was about getting into your pants.” His expression darkened as he remembered exactly where she’d been last summer. “After you…jumped…Dawn was the only one who…” Cared, even a little. Sometimes he looked at Buffy and still couldn’t believe that she was back. Alive and mostly well.

Buffy’s back was starting to ache so she lay back against the soft mattress. In a moment, Spike relaxed next to her. She shifted over until their bodies touched. She slipped an arm around his waist. She pressed her face into his chest. He rested his chin against her head, and inhaled her scent. Fruity and tangy, all at the same time. Delicious.

“Spike?”

“Yeah, love?”

“You told me once that you could be good.” It was a statement.

He stiffened. “And you said I was evil.”

“Which one of us was right?” A long pause. “Do you really think you can?”

“What’s the worst thing I’ve done lately,” he asked dryly. “Usually has to do with you anyway. So tell me. Am I evil?”

“I could never love someone who was evil,” she told him.

The shaft of pain was familiar at least, and not unexpected. Well, how many different ways had she said it already? I’ll never love you, Spike…The only chance you had with me was when…It could never be you…You’re just convenient…She was speaking again, and he shook his head, because that—she must have misspoken. He thought that she’d just said—

“Mind repeatin’ that Slayer?”

“I said no, Spike. I don’t think you’re evil.”

By the Starlight