Chapter 1.04
Monday, May 6th, 2002
Monday
Over the course of the night and the following
morning Spike and Buffy slept for short periods. In between times,
they made love, they shagged, they fucked like a dockside whore
and a sailor on his first shore leave in years and covered a fair
few variants in between. Despite Dawn's assurances Buffy had set
her alarm in time to get Dawn up for school, but since she could
already hear her sister in the bathroom when it went off she hadn't
actually bothered leaving the bedroom. True to form at some point
in the evening the bed had been abandoned, the pair and a selection
of bedding having found their way to the floor.
It was only mid-morning, when Buffy's stomach
started making rumbling noises, that the pair actually made it
out of the room. Buffy led the way to the kitchen, checking for
open curtains en route. She filled the coffee machine on autopilot,
while Spike checked out the fridge and cupboards. He passed the
almost empty milk carton to Buffy for her coffee. He didn't like
to comment, but in his opinion there wasn't much in the way of
food in the house to feed even Buffy and Dawn. Factor in Red,
Pixie and him and things looked even worse. It was no wonder the
slayer was starting to look like a big-eyed waif. From here it
looked like half their grocery money went on bottled water, and
not even big bottles just lots of the little ones.
"Not enough milk for cereal or pancakes. Reckon
I can do you toast or scrambled egg on toast and that's as much
of a choice as you get, unless you're weird enough to want an
omelette with nothing on." He looked across to where Buffy was
pulling mugs from a cupboard, his shirt from last night only just
covering her bottom as she reached up.
"Scrambled egg sounds good. Have you always been
able to cook or is this a recent thing?" Buffy asked.
"Bit of both. Used to knock around the kitchens
with the cook's sons when I was a kid, but didn't have any call
to do much till I ended up lookin' after Niblet. Had to learn
most of it all over again since tastes have changed and your average
suburban kitchen doesn't have a wood-burning stove, but hey. Even
watch some of those god-awful cookery programs they have on daytime
television. Have to get Bit to check the seasoning on some things
what with vamp taste-buds working a bit different but mostly they
turn out okay if I stick to the recipe." As he spoke, Spike moved
efficiently around the kitchen collecting together what he needed
and making a start on Buffy's breakfast.
"To judge by how well you know your way round
the kitchen you must have looked after her a lot?" Buffy came
up behind him sliding her arms round his waist while he beat the
eggs with some seasoning and a little water.
"An odd time the Wiccas wanted to go out, but
mostly it was just covering for Scooby meetings or movie nights
or whatever."
"Wait a minute. You're saying that when the rest
of the people you patrolled with got together socially, you wouldn't
get invited? You'd be expected to watch Dawn?"
Spike couldn't actually see Buffy's face but
he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was getting herself
worked up again.
"Well, yeah, but way I see it, I got the better
deal. D'rather spend the night playin' rummy with either of the
Summers girls than watchin' some chick flick and listenin' to
Harris makin' asinine jokes. 'Sides, meant they never asked me
to do any of that research that gets you lot all excited either."
"Despite the fact you probably know more languages
than any of us with the possible exception of Giles, and know
demons like that Glar Gluck Cash Machine thingy on sight whereas
it took us half a day to work out what it was."
Spike smirked, putting the bowl on the counter
next to the cooker and turning to face Buffy. "Not my fault your
mates assume that I must be thick 'cause I can fight." He gave
her a chaste kiss, determined not to get distracted till after
she had eaten, then, turned back to his cooking.
"Hey, I could take that as an insult. Just so
long as you realise you won't be getting off that easy any more
now your secret's out."
"If it means spendin' more time with you 'n'
the Bit you won't catch me complainin'... Well, you probably will
but it'll be more to get up Harris's nose than anything."
"You're Evil."
Spike reached behind him with one hand to briefly
squeeze Buffy's butt. "'N' don't you forget it." In response,
Buffy nuzzled in against his shirtless back and tightened her
grip around his waist content to remain there until he finished
preparing her breakfast.
Ten minutes later they faced each other across
the kitchen island, Spike sipping at a cup of coffee and Buffy
tucking into her perfectly prepared breakfast.
"Not bad for someone who can't taste what he
cooks. Thank you." Buffy said after the first couple of bites.
"Least I can do when you spend so much of your
time cookin'."
"Not just the cooking. Being here, really being
here for me. It's sort of new. Riley was sort of. you'd go to
bed with Riley and wake up to Agent Finn - all vitamin supplements
and push ups and not the naked kind. Soon as he woke up, his mind
was at least partly on what he had to do that day. Angel and Parker
weren't even there when I woke up. Kinda nice having somebody's
undivided attention."
"Prob'ly 'cause I'm still tryin' to convince
myself I'm not dreamin', love. If it wasn't for the fact I'm Evil
I could think I'd died and gone to heaven, except then there'd
be some blood in the fridge. which is my unsubtle way of asking
if it's okay to stock up your fridge a bit?"
"Sure," she smiled over at him. "If everything
hadn't happened all at once I would have probably tried to get
you some."
"So, you got anything you've got to do today?
.Other than making an old man very happy, that is" Spike raised
his eyebrow and treated Buffy to the trademark leer.
"I've got work, late shift, four till twelve.
Patrol. But nothing till this afternoon. Need some groceries though,
or Dawn'll have to order in."
"Wasn't me cooking when you work late part of
our deal? I'll make sure Niblet gets something to eat, love. It
still leaves me plenty time to do a sweep of the graveyards before
it's time to meet you from work, unless of course after eight
hours at a grill you need to kick some demon ass to let off steam."
"You're joking, come midnight it's Buffy the
Zombie Vampire Slayer. I'd normally blow it off, but I did that
last night, so."
"So, Spike here gets a spot of violence before
bedtime."
"Spike, last night, you were joking about driving
to LA, weren't you?"
"Yes 'n' no. I'd rather get it out of the way,
but seein' as I've got a busy night planned it can wait."
"How about I ring Cordelia and maybe arrange
a visit. Tell her my boyfriend's bringing me to town and I thought
we could meet up. If we had already arranged a visit there'd be
no reason for him to come here."
Spike shrugged. "It's all going to end up the
same way however you try to come at it, but feel free."
"Maybe, you should have kept those balls you
gave to Xander a bit longer," she teased.
"Not a hope, slayer. That'd ruin all my fun,
there wouldn't be any challenge to a fight then. There's no glory
in beating up on things as don't have a chance against you. Remember,
pet. Death, glory and sod all else, other than love."
His hand reached out to where hers rested on
the counter, covering it until her fingers moved to intertwine
between his. Buffy looked up from her empty plate, into a pair
of soft blue eyes. "Death and love, kinda unmixy, least not fun
mixy. Don't ever want you any more dead than you already are,"
she said shyly.
"Feeling's mutual, love." Without loosening his
hold on Buffy's hand he walked round the island to stand beside
the slayer's stool, Buffy turning to face him. The knuckles of
his free hand brushed her cheek as his head moved in, tilted slightly
to one side, bringing his lips ever closer to hers. Buffy flicked
her tongue over her lower lip and then her eyes drifted shut and
everything except the feel of his lips on hers ceased to exist.
The kiss had nothing to do with foreplay and everything to do
with laying bare their feelings to the other.
With a breathless gasp, Buffy tilted her head
so she sat forehead to forehead with the vampire, both reluctant
to end the moment of total intimacy. Finally as her breathing
returned to normal Buffy was the first to speak.
"Can we go back to bed and just talk and cuddle
for a bit?"
"As you wish," Spike's response was barely louder
than a whisper.
"You've been watching 'The Princess Bride' again,
haven't you?"
"Guilty as charged, princess. But how many films
are there where the handsome yet evil pirate, renowned for leaving
no survivors gets to find true love. Not to mention the fact that
that he's blond, dashing, good with a blade. though my personal
preference is for an axe rather than a sword and pretty much love's
bitch."
"Ooh. Over-identify much?"
Buffy grabbed the cordless handset and started
leading her very own peroxide pest to back to her bed.
"Hey, I could have said he was intelligent, well-travelled
and had an English accent and a girlfriend with perfect breasts,
but I didn't."
"Want me to start calling you Westley?"
"Hell, no. That's a poofy name, only thing they
got wrong, shoulda called 'im William." Spike delivered this last
absolutely deadpan. Buffy took advantage of the turn on the stairs
to steal a furtive glance back at him only to see him wiggling
his eyebrow at her in a way that brought her to a giggling standstill.
Undeterred Spike bent down and before Buffy realised what he was
doing she was over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.
"Who are you?" Buffy asked in between taking
advantage of the view from her new position. "And what have you
done with sarky Spike?"
"If you must know Sarky Spike went off looking
for his soul-mate Bitchy Buffy, so when you run across one of
them I'm fairly certain the other'll be close by."
Buffy landed once more in the middle of the bed.
She climbed in under the covers as Spike peeled off his skin-tight
jeans before joining her. He felt her feet rub against his legs
as he climbed in but she made no move to bring her upper half
closer, so he settled into position facing her far enough apart
to watch her face. Their legs intertwined seemingly of their own
volition and his hand reached over to hold hers once more.
"What did you want to talk about, pet?"
"You. What you like, what you don't like. Places
you've been. Stuff you've done. minus the killing and maiming.
Want to know a bit more about what's inside that head of yours.
You've been part of my life for years and apart from Passions,
The Princess Bride, The Sex Pistols and The Ramones I haven't
got a clue about anything you like. I've seen you with a book
in your hand but I've no idea what you read.
Help me understand who you are. Starting with
why you hardly ever go into "game face" any more? Why did it make
you feel awkward last night?"
Spike's eyes darted nervously downward and she
gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He met her gaze again, his
eyes constantly gauging her reaction as he spoke. "I fell in love
with you because you treated me like a man. Even though I know
I'm a monster, you made me want to be that man. Bringing the demon
forward reminds me how far I am from what you deserve, that I'll
always be beneath you."
"Oh Spike. You said it often enough. I can't
believe you don't know it, don't feel it deep down. I need a bit
of monster in my man. I need an arrogant, confident guy who doesn't
get intimidated by a strong woman. I need a strong guy who can
stand by me in a fight without me worrying whether he's going
to break. I get hot for the predator that crawled into this bed
last night and made me come so often I gave up trying to count.
Get the picture. I'm attracted to you. As you are. The whole package.
When you're in game face you're more difficult
to read. I kinda miss those blue eyes of yours and you're right
the fangs aren't practical for every situation but it's still
part of you. The things I said, the way I treated you, they're
to do with me being screwed up. You didn't do anything to deserve
them. You've got no reason to be ashamed of what you are. As for
you being beneath me, I think we both know who's been the better
person since I came back. I can't guarantee next time we have
a fight I won't fling it in your face. Sometimes Bitchy Buffy
just takes over, but I can guarantee that I won't mean it.
Maybe, if I was a normal girl, with a normal
life in some quiet little town then I could have fallen in love
with that shy guy in your dream if I ever got to know him well
enough. But that's not how my life went. I am who I am. My life
is a mess and I need someone who's more than a man. I need you."
"You're trying to tell me this," Spike morphed
into his demon façade, "isn't repugnant to you? That it
doesn't remind you of the thousands of inhuman beasts you've executed
since you were called?"
Buffy threw the hand, which she had been holding,
away from her in disgust, anger flashing in her eyes.
"What makes you think you can fall in love with
a slayer, but the slayer can't love a vampire? It's all you. Snaggle-toothed
yellow-eyed demon or the most gorgeous bloody hunk of man-flesh
to ever walk the planet, it's still you.
Get over yourself already. I'm not that shallow
that I can't accept what you are. Except for times like last night
I'm probably not going to ask you to change, but I know it's kinda
natural for it to come out when you're 'emotional' and that's
okay. You said when I had sex with Riley I would be holding back
all the time, well, evidence tends to suggest you haven't exactly
been letting yourself go when we're together. Stop being a hypocrite.
Get over worrying what I'm going to think and let yourself go."
Spike's face changed back to his normal human
form about halfway through the slayer's little speech, a self-satisfied
grin splitting it in two.
"What did you just call me, slayer?"
"A hypocrite, a stinking, lousy hypocrite." Buffy's
arms were crossed beneath the duvet and her lips had formed into
an irritated pout.
"Before that, pet. Right after the snaggle-toothed
yellow-eyed demon bit?"
"Oh, then." Suddenly shy, her voice was tentative
and as she dug herself in deeper she spoke faster and faster.
"I think I said something like you were the most gorgeous hunk
of man-flesh to ever walk the earth, but then I am biased. I have
seen you naked. To be totally objective I'd really have to see
all the others naked too and let's not go there."
A low rumble issued from Spike's throat and at
first Buffy was unsure whether it was a laugh or a growl, until
she looked at his face. "How the hell do you manage to be the
wanton sex goddess of my dreams and still blush at the very idea
of seeing a bloke naked? And do you have any idea how bloody adorable
it is?"
"Stop it!" She prodded him in the chest. "I'm
supposed to be angry at you, not all shy and happy and squidgy
feeling."
Spike's voice was soft and gentle and Buffy wondered
if he knew how the tone and the accent combined to make her go
weak at the knees. "I thought this was "learn about Spike" time,
not "get mad at Spike" time. And in answer to your point before,
if now and again I hold in the demon, it's because I don't want
to get carried away and bite you or claim you or something without
you being fully aware of what's going on and a willing participant.
I understand what you're saying and when we're both ready I'll
take you up on what you said. Until then things will have to stay
as they are because I'm not going to muck this up a second time.
Next question?"
"Okay, what sort of stuff do you read?"
Spike shrugged. "Anything I can lay my hands
on as long as it's well written and not total bollocks like that
Anne Rice stuff. Can't be arsed with all that "I feel so guilty",
"I cry blood" crap."
"Okay, so no Le Stat in Spikey's Christmas stocking,
but what do you like? What were you reading when I came in that
night when Riley was in town?"
Spike looked sheepish and his response was all
but inaudible.
"What was that?" Buffy asked unwilling to believe
her ears.
"I said poetry. It was a book of poetry." He
looked so embarrassed and almost angry at being caught out, she
just had to kiss him. As she drew away from him she once again
took his hand in hers.
"What's your favourite poem? Do you know any
by heart?" she asked.
"I don't know. Poetry's a bit like music. There
are times when you want to listen to the Ramones and times when
maybe you'd rather have a bit of Enya or Sarah Maclachlan, and
yeah, I can recite more than a few."
"Give me some examples," Buffy suggested.
"The wind was a torrent of darkness among the
gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor," Spike
recited, his diction automatically falling back to the more precise
tones of his human days, stopping when he saw Buffy shake her
head.
"Great poem, wrong mood. Too much blood and guts,
try again and not 'The Charge of the Light Brigade', or Graves
or Sassoon or any of the rest of those depressing First World
War ones."
"Okay. How's this then?
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden
Paw-
For he's the master criminal who can defy the
law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard.
What, pet? Still not the right mood?"
Buffy was now in a definite pout. "Your century's
version of Dr. Seuss is not going to win fair lady. Want smoochie
type poetry."
A half smirk on his lips and laughter in his
eye, Spike responded. "T. S. Eliot's twentieth century, pet. As
I recall that particular volume was published in 1939, but if
Buffy wants smoochies, smoochies she shall have.
The fountains mingle with the river
And the river with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle -
Why not I with thine?
See the mountain's kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another," Spike was stunned
to see Buffy's lips moving along with his as they finished the
rest of the poem together.
"No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?"
As they recited the last verse they moved gradually
closer, their lips meeting as soon as the last word was spoken
and tender seconds passed before the two broke apart.
(Poem is Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe
Shelley.)
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