And here’s my last chapter! Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.
At Play With the Gods (3/3)
Buffy threw open the door to the flat and ran in, colliding with Spike and nearly sending them both to the floor. As they untangled themselves, Buffy caught sight of the duster Spike was wearing and narrowed her eyes.
“You were leaving.” It wasn’t a question, and Spike flinched slightly before stiffening his back and nodding.
Buffy gaped at him, and suddenly it was too much. The stress from the previous evening had caught up to her, and her face crumpled as the tears finally came. “You know what?” she seethed. “Fine. Go! I can’t believe I expected you to stay and deal with this like an adult.”
Spike pointed a shaking finger at the front door. “Yeah, well I’m not the one who left first, sweetheart!”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I was talking to Giles, you idiot! Did you even read the note? You didn’t, did you?” Shoving past him, she barreled into the tiny kitchen and ripped the note she’d left off of the microwave. She threw it at him, and it crumpled to the ground like a dead leaf. “I was off getting answers. What’s your excuse? Were you even going to tell me?”
Spike slammed his fist against the wall, denting the plaster. “What am I, on a leash? I come and go as I please, Slayer.”
Buffy nodded, the urge to fight suddenly gone.
She swallowed hard. “Were you coming back?” she asked carefully.
Hold yourself in stillness, the first rule of the warrior. Her heart ached.
Spike blinked incredulously, deflated. “Was I….” He shook his head. “Are you mad? Of course I was coming back, you daft bint! I just needed a walk to clear my head, and seeing as how there’s no sun out today….” He hardened his gaze. “How can you even ask me that?” he demanded. “After everything we’ve been through, how could you think that I’d….”
“I don’t know!” Buffy burst out. “Look, everything’s so weird right now, and I know you have this whole big issue about prophecies, and….” She stopped, befuddled, as he began to laugh. There was a bit of a hard edge behind it.
“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “I couldn’t give a shit what some two-bit Powers have planned anyway.”
“Yes, you do,” Buffy said softly.
“Care. You care about the prophecy, just like you cared about the one with the shoes. What was it called?”
Spike’s face softened slightly as his mouth quirked in a smile. “Shanshu, love. And that all turned out to be a bunch of nonsense anyway, I’ll have you know, given that the both of us have managed to retain our undead status.”
“You still cared,” Buffy insisted. “And I care about prophecies too. You want to know why? Because after my first one I ended up dead. It’s not something I’m really anxious to repeat.”
Spike stepped closer and frowned. “Did you find something out about this apocalypse?”
“No,” Buffy admitted. “Not yet. Giles is working on it. But I did learn something else, something about the second part of that prophecy.”
Spike’s lips tightened and he turned away. “You mean the vampire champion, the one I’m not. Your soulmate, or some such rot.” He gave her a defiant look, but Buffy could easily see the cracks in his foundation. “I guess that means Angel’s your destiny after all.” He spit out the name as if it burned him.
“No,” Buffy said calmly, shaking her head.
Spike cocked his head curiously. “No? What’s it mean, then?”
“It means that I’ve discovered who my soulmate is. You were supposed to turn Riley into a vampire.”
And then they were both on the floor, howling with laughter while the tears ran down their faces. Buffy ended up with her head in Spike’s lap, clutching her stomach while she gasped for breath.
“Oh, is that all?” Spike croaked. “No worries, love. Just say the word, and I’ll scout out his hiding place and get right on that. After all, we’ve got an apocalypse to stop!”
And they were off again, the laughter a surgical lance to the pain and heartache of the previous night. By the time they finally calmed again, they were cuddled on the hard tile floor. Buffy held Spike’s hand, playing with his fingers.
“Seriously though,” she said. “I need to tell you what I found out.”
Spike heaved a sigh. “Right then,” he said heavily. “Let’s have it.”
“Okay,” Buffy said. “Here’s the thing about prophecies and soulmates and all that crap.” She caught Spike’s gaze, making sure he was looking at her. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Is that right?” Spike asked. “As simple as that?”
“Yup,” Buffy nodded. “Giles was telling me about how vague prophecies are, like I didn’t already know that, thank you very much. And he was saying how it could mean one thing, or it could end up meaning the exact opposite. You can’t tell. And I was all worried, wondering how to change the prophecy, or how to make it fit the way I wanted to. And then I realized something. See, the Powers can mess around with life and death, but they can’t change who I am. They can’t change my heart.” Lifting her head, she pressed a soft kiss to Spike’s mouth. “You’re in my heart, Spike. The Powers can’t control my heart, and they can’t mess with my free will. I’m with you, not because of some stupid prophecy, or to stop an apocalypse, but because I choose to. It’s my choice, and that’s more powerful than any prophecy in the world.”
Spike’s eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. For several long minutes they lay together in stillness, content to just be there together.
“You’re a bloody amazing woman, Buffy Summers,” Spike finally muttered. He trailed his lips along the skin of her cheek, stopping to drop soft kisses on her eyes, her nose, the corner of her mouth. “Thank you, beloved,” he whispered, and Buffy shuddered at the pet name that was still the sweetest sound to her ears. With a moan, she captured his mouth and let nature take its course.
It wasn’t the first time they’d had sex in the kitchen — and the tile floor hadn’t gotten any more comfortable, even for a vampire and a Slayer — but the raw earthiness of their setting made the whole thing incredibly erotic. Spike knelt on the floor, resting back on his heels, and held Buffy against the counters while he thrust into her. The knobs of the drawers were digging into her back and her head hit the counter with every thrust, but she was too happy to want to move. She held onto his shoulders with one hand and fingered her nipples with the other, staring at Spike’s face while he gazed down at where their bodies were joined.
“I’m here,” she whispered, her eyes locked on his as she rode him, her sweaty body sliding slickly over his. “I’m here,” she repeated, the words torn out of her in gasps as she let him slam her body against the row of counters. “I’m here,” she gasped as her body shook in release and Spike pulled her tightly against him before burying his face in her shoulder with a loud moan.
An hour later, and the tile floor seemed to be getting harder and harder.
“Ow,” Buffy complained good-naturedly.
“Hmmm,” Spike purred, nuzzling the valley between her breasts. “I hope that’s the good kind of ow.”
“I think I’m numb down there,” Buffy admitted sheepishly. “I was thinking more in an, ‘Ow, my back, my back,’ sort of way.”
“Huh,” Spike mused. “I suppose that means we should move.”
“Probably,” Buffy agreed, snuggling closer to him and making absolutely no effort to get up. They were just getting nicely started on round two when there was a knock at the front door.
“Leave it,” Spike growled, laving the underside of her breast with his tongue, but Buffy reluctantly pushed him away.
“It could be important,” she groaned, pulling her pants back on and looking around frantically for her bra before giving up and shrugging on Spike’s t-shirt. “Come on, make yourself presentable,” she called, walking towards the front door. “I’ll get rid of them as soon as possible, and then we can go back to doing…Giles!” She had flung open the door right before the last word, and stared in shock at the sight of her Watcher with his hand raised to knock again. “Uh, hi!” she said brightly. “Would you like to come in?”
Giles cast a dubious glance at the flat and stepped inside gingerly. Of course, Spike chose that moment to walk out of the kitchen, shirtless and barefoot, his pants partially unfastened. He had total post-sex hair, and he was sporting a new set of hickeys on the side of his neck. Buffy cringed.
“Rupert!” he said jovially. “Long time, and all that. Care for a spot of tea?”
“Yes, tea!” Buffy said in a rush. “We were just…um…making tea. And doing absolutely nothing else.”
“Yes, I’m glad to hear it,” Giles muttered. “And I’d thank you not to bring it up again. I was just coming by with some information I’ve uncovered about your recently acquired dagger and this new apocalypse.” He dumped several books and a stack of photocopied papers on the small table that stood opposite the sofa.
“Wow, fast service,” Buffy said. “Why didn’t you call? I would have come down.”
“I did,” Giles said pointedly. “It seems your phone was off the hook.”
Oh, God. Buffy vaguely remembered knocking into the damn thing during their most recent sexcapades. She cringed for the second time, wondering vaguely when she’d manage to grow up enough to stop being embarrassed at the idea that Giles knew she was having sex. “Uh, thanks,” she stuttered. “I’ll get right on it.”
Giles nodded. “Now, about the other matter we discussed, relating to the, er, champion.” Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Spike stiffen. Giles drew a folded slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. “I was unable to uncover any relevant information relating to that portion of the prophecy. However, I do have a lead on a source that might be able to give you the information you’re looking for, if you’re interested.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the stack of books. “In the meantime, I believe we have more than enough work to do. I’ll be examining several more volumes back at my office. If you’d like to meet me there later this afternoon, we can compare notes and discuss options.”
Buffy nodded. “Thanks,” she said quietly, fingering the slip of paper and giving Giles a small smile. She closed the door behind him as he left, then turned to face Spike. He hadn’t moved, and was staring at the paper as if it was a snake.
“Hey,” she said, and Spike blinked and looked at her.
“Well,” he said heavily. “I guess you’ve got some answers.”
Buffy shrugged and walked over to him, tucking the paper into his rear pocket. “I told you,” she said. “I already have all the answers I’m looking for.” And without another word she led Spike into the bathroom, watching in satisfaction as he tore the piece of paper into little shreds and dumped them in the toilet. Buffy pressed the flush, and together they watched the tiny scraps disappear.
“So that’s that,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “You sure you didn’t want to know? It could have led you to your destiny, whatever that is.”
Buffy shook her head, letting Spike follow her back into the living room where she collapsed on the couch. “I make my own destiny,” she said, settling in comfortably next to him. “And this is it. No fairy tales, no prince charming, no happily ever after.”
“You sure about that last one?” Spike asked with a suggestive leer.
“Stop it,” she fussed, slapping his grabby fingers away. “I’m trying to make a point here. And the point is…I’m Buffy, and you’re Spike, and we’re here because we choose to be. And in the end, that’s all that matters. We don’t need a supernatural seal of approval. We’ve got everything we need right here.”
“Right you are,” Spike said with a contented sigh, resting his chin against the top of her head. “Here we are.”
“Yup,” Buffy agreed. “Right here.”
And it was good.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/103801.html