Beyond Truth and Lies – 6

This entry is part 7 of 7 in the series Beyond Truth and Lies
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Oh God, last chapter. It’s 3am in Aussie land, but I’ll try and do the short fic now too, then I will be so in love with my bed. Helps that the baby is a wake!

Chapter 6

“You’re dumping me for ‘im?”

Buffy stared blankly at the Spike that had almost sent her insane with his hateful leering and out of control desire for blood. “Huh?”

“You’ve been with this wanker all this time?” her Spike exploded with more than righteous rage at his jealousy.

“Whoa, let’s just go back a step. Too many Spikes, and I can’t handle one on a good day. Now, no, I haven’t been with him. That would be… wrong.” Even Buffy cringed at that, quickly jumping in to cover the implication of those overused words with the truth. “I couldn’t be with him when I was still grieving the loss of the man I truly love.” Her eyes shone hopefully, almost boring into peroxided Spike so that he might finally get her message and believe it.

The intensity was shattered as Willow came tearing into the room, dragging an excited Dawn and Andrew with her. “I’ve worked it out. Spike, get ready. You’re going home tonight and then I’m on the first plane out of this crazy place.”

Dawn took one look at the longing on her sister’s face as she stared at the Spike she’d known and loved and saw the sudden importance of relocating for a couple of nights, if not for life.

“Willow, book me tickets too. I think it’s about time I got to know the British branch. Giles is gone already, right? And Xander is back with another slayer?”

Buffy didn’t even jerk to attention, allowing the sister she usually kept under strict lock and key from the way too friendly Italian boys to make plans that would take her away. She stared deeply into the soulful eyes of the vamp she wanted to reassure herself was really there and decided that British boys would be of the good. And besides, Giles was arguably worse than her.

And then Angel spoke and ruined the spell that had swept Buffy away.

“There is no way that this is happening.” He looked at the Spike he remembered fresh from killing his very first slayer, and then back to the pain in his ass that he’d allowed to tag along in his life for the past months. There was no hiding the monumental shift in behaviour—in outlook. And he hated it. Hated that it was Spike and he’d been capable of it at all.

“Oh it’s happening, Peaches. I won’t be seeing you back at Evil HQ.” Blue eyes melted as they met Buffy’s and got lost in the sea of her unexpected emotion.

Large shoulders slumped in defeat and the cursed vampire turned toward the door after one more deep soulful look at who he knew was the love of his life, but who he could never have.

His hand fell on the brass door knob and the Spike on borrowed time called out in panick.

“Hey! Where do you bloody think you’re going? You can’t let this happen. Don’t let me turn out to be this repulsive milksop. Surely after all we were to each other you have more respect for me than that? To let me be with a slayer… that’s just—” The distaste and revulsion was more than evident in his tone, but the look on his face proved too much for Buffy’s Spike and he strode forward, a finger angrily jabbing his younger, more disrespectful self in the chest.

“Oi! Mind your manners in front of the Niblet and the ladies. Your time isn’t now. An’ you should know better than to question who I…you fall in love with. Not like you’ll remember a bloody thing when you go back anyway. Go back to shagging Dru when she’s not off with one of her other pet demons and you’ll be right for another century.”

The sharp punch to his ribs from the little spitfire at his side might well have cracked one of them, but Spike revelled in Buffy’s display of jealousy. He almost gave in and kissed her for it, the relief in having his Buffy back—as sexily violent as ever—almost enough to make him come in his pants like an overwhelmed school boy.

Until his younger self opened up his mouth again. At least it was to piss off Angel, and who could get angry with that agenda?

“An’ look at you, all housebroken. Bet you’re off shaggin’ some dog-faced cow because the true love of your life makes you go all damage bound. You sicken me,” he said, his voice dripping with disgust.

“Righty who then, let’s go do this thing. Time’s a wastin’,” Willow reminded and then everything was full of bluster and purpose as Spike’s aplenty and a happy slayer followed the witch, the key and the loafer out the door into the night.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Buffy stared up through the dome at the swirling light show and squeezed Spike’s hand.

HER Spike.

The one she’d mistakenly pulled in from the past was sitting across from Willow, his eyes intent on her neck as he subconsciously licked his lips. He made her nervous; Buffy could see that. He’d been more reluctant to don his original garb than she’d expected, wanting to take the easier t-shirt back in time with him to the extent of a vicious punch up with her that had left him bruised and the definite loser. Besides, she was keen to see again that shade of blue offset against Spike’s white hair. She had memories that at the time weren’t so happy. Now she could make them so while being able to guiltlessly drool.

After the turmoil of his arrival, Boxer Rebellion Spike’s return was remarkably quiet and natural disasters free. And this time they’d kept to their feet and there was barely any wind at all.

Willow bounced to her feet, chipper and eager to leave as she collected up her candles and other magical paraphernalia. She’d gathered Dawn in, spoke quietly to the girl and then they’d both hugged the happily reunited pair and left, leaving a slightly confused Andrew to wander off behind them.

Buffy had never been so glad to see their retreating backsides.

But now it left her alone with him—a mile of unsaid words and misunderstood feelings between her and the man she wanted for always.

“Can we start again?” There was so much yearning inside her that Buffy just couldn’t wait. Both her hands were held in his tepid ones, his thumbs gently stroking her palms in that breathtaking way he had of touching her deeply with the lightest brush of his flesh against hers.

“What exactly do you want, Buffy? I’ll be here for you no matter what. Don’t think I won’t be. But you have to tell me what you want from me, because I just can’t decide that anymore.”

“Do we have to talk? Can’t I just show you?”

No matter the warmth of her eyes as she soaked him in, Spike couldn’t dismiss the feeling of panic that those words set in motion. But he’d said he’d be there, he’d be anything she wanted him to be, though it was frightening to finally be where he’d longed for without the words that would reassure him of his position.

The nod of his head cost him buckets of self-esteem, but he held her hand all the way back to her apartment, and he took off his duster and shoes like he thought she expected him to. He stood in just his jeans when Buffy left to go to the bathroom, not having moved even an inch by the time she’d returned.

He’d never before seen her wear any kind of nightwear, the few times he’d managed to share her bed being when she was fully clothed and prepared for an attack of Bringers. The outfit this time was skimpy, but it was enough to show him that it wasn’t her naked body she’d wanted to show him, and just that small amount of covering gave him hope.

Without words he positioned himself on her bed, allowing her to pull out the covers and then covered themselves as she crawled into his arms. She had left a light on, and the relief Spike felt at that fed his awe that he finally had Buffy in his arms. With approval. From every quarter he had approval to be with her, and it was like the best feeling in the world.

She never looked away from him, staring intently with watery eyes and a wobbly bottom lip until the emotion spilled over and her face dived into his chest and she let months of sorrow go. Her small hands settled against his flesh, squeezing him and holding him tight to her as she muffled her gratitude to have him back into his chest.

Spike was overwhelmed—and stupid. Rupert had done his best to warn him in typical cryptic fashion about his earlier self being in existence—though to be fair no one would likely have picked up the clues and put the mystery together. And he’d tried to tell an ignorant vampire that the one woman he’d spent so much time loving and fighting for was desperate for his return—so desperate she’d summoned an earlier version that would rip her throat out as soon as ask her name.

It felt better than good to be back in this position—even if it never went any further. But it brought back memories, feelings, promises that Spike was hard pressed to get out of his head now that he’d been reminded.

Wasn’t now the time she’d told him they could discuss what had happened that night? The one that had first seen them snuggle together guiltlessly and on the verge of something neither had expected to ever revisit their relationship again? Spike wanted that discussion now, wanted it out in the open what it all meant, what her hopes were for bringing him into her room and sharing her bed—even if they were decent and not touching in the way that led to naughtiness.

When she finally spoke, he knew that the same memories were running through her head. The same issues needing to be resolved.

“I told you once that we would talk when the fight was over. I was such a fool. I know better than anyone how stupid it is to leave things unsaid—feelings ambiguous. I was trying to fix that, you know? At the Hellmouth, when you were all shiny and pretty thanks to the impending death. I was too late and you didn’t believe me—or if you did, it was too late to let you feel what it meant for us.”

Spike stayed still, his jaw locked and tears gathering at the hope of hearing what he’d waited and wanted to for so long. What did it mean for Buffy? What did loving him translate to her?

“This is our bed. Ours. I want you in it every day for the rest of my life. Well, unless my old and ugly body needs the space later on. But while I’m young and pretty, I want you with me, loving me, showing me how wrong I was to let you go all those times I was an idiot.”

His heart was breaking at her sadness, and Spike touched her cheek, feeling the beauty of her make his fingertips tingle.

“I’ll be sticking with you even then, Goldilocks. P’raps we should invest in a King?” He smiled in relief at her giggle, wondering if she even knew the surprise that was waiting on down the line for her. His girl had taken a fatal wound to her belly, and had stood straight back up to decimate the uber vamps who had tried to take her world away from her. He had a feeling that the larger sized bed would be used more for fun than elderly recuperation. Though he could see it being a bonus when they came home bruised and bloodied from yet again saving the world.

Not that his girl wasn’t imaginative in her own ways.

“So we’re okay?” The insecurity in her voice was heartbreaking and Spike nodded, holding her tighter until she pushed away from him and looked intently into his face.

“Can we kinda make with the smutties now? You have no idea what it’s like to—”

“Buffy, don’t finish that sentence. How ‘bout we begin with a kiss?”

The Slayer smiled as she leaned in with eagerly, gasping softly as his lips settled against hers and she finally knew what it was like to be in love and on the same page with her future.

It was a kiss of fire, doing little but remind them exactly of the passion Buffy had doused prematurely when Riley had swooped down to the Hellmouth. When his presence had forced her to own up to her behaviour and she’d abandoned the only thing that had made her feel alive. Accepting that she finally was now only added to the intoxication of his lips and Buffy died a third death to know he was forever hers. His tongue was a revelation and she kicked herself for having forgotten the slick heat of it as he tasted her mouth. It kick started her heart in ways that resurrection spells and resuscitation hadn’t. Her face fiery red, Buffy let her lips be manipulated by a master, letting the buzz that she felt from the contact move throughout her body.

When his hand settled on her hip, Buffy moaned and moved closer. Her leg slipped up and over his until she was straddling Spike and lying fully over his body. She shouldn’t have felt self-conscious. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in this position with him—and many other positions she’d been in with him should have drawn a much redder blush to her cheeks.

His hands slipped up the back of her thighs and under the slip of her nightgown, finding flesh at her hips and circling it with his thumbs. His fingers rested in the waistband of her panties and Buffy found herself cursing the fact that she’d tried to be demure, wishing now that she’d left caution to the wind and come to their bed naked. Only she’d known he was worried about them starting from there, and she really hadn’t wanted to begin with that kind of statement. She wanted him, absolutely, but she loved him now in so many ways that defied expression, sex being the main one they’d never had trouble with. Or at least the not so tender side of the argument.

“Buffy,” he almost gasped, his eyes droopy with passion and hesitation. “You sure this is what you want, pet? You want me like this?”

Her heart broke. After all they’d shared, he still thought she’d think the passion and love she’d find only in his arms was a mistake.

Calloused fingers rubbed up and down her back and Buffy could feel his worry. Goosepimples rose on her skin and she felt the burst of her love almost overwhelming the moment.

“I never stopped wanting you like this, Spike. Now I just want it all. I want everything, and you’re just the vamp to give it to me.”

And then they were lost in the pleasure of skin, amazement lending an intensity that had been absent from any other time but their first. They stared straight into each other as naked flesh settled together and Spike’s smooth length filled Buffy up whole. She stretched comfortably, feeling the bliss that came from accommodating the man she loved and surrendered to the happiness of having him inside her once again.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, finding it difficult to talk and breathe as he slid out of her then thrust his determined return.

“Buffy,” he whispered and she felt the salty tang of his tears on her lips. It was the gift that she should have given him so long ago, and she’d denied herself as much as she’d tugged all of his hope away from him. But now she was giving it back and would spend the rest of her life proving it. He’d never have reason to doubt her sincerity again; never have reason to believe she could love another with the depth of passion that she loved him.

Each time he brushed against a spot that made her start, she whispered the words. Not that they were passion induced only, but because they were perfect moments to capture his awed gaze and compound the enormity of the moment.

They came together more gently than any of the times they’d been together, and despite not breaking any furniture, houses or sound barriers, Buffy felt like it was the most beautiful moment of her life. She snuggled into her boyfriend’s warm embrace and gave thanks to a Power that finally knew how to give rewards.

She fell asleep with a different rush of tears on her face and to the words of love and forever on her vampire’s lips.

This time she would have her happily ever after.

The end

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/100851.html

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