Chapter Ten

She'd been walking for over an hour now. She'd been to The Bronze, to the local coffee shop, to the park. She knew Spike well enough to know that when he was upset, he didn't seek company, he sought solitude. She was thinking though that all this walking was good for her. It was giving her time to relax, to think, to clear her mind. She hadn't really come to many conclusions, only questions. Questions that only Spike could answer if she could just find him.

Heading back home, she dug her hands in her jean pockets and said a silent prayer to whatever deity was listening that they grant her peace of mind. She had a feeling she was going to be needing it.

Climbing up to her window, she wondered if she should instead crawl into Spike's room and wait for him. She'd make him talk to her if it was the last thing she did that night.

"Where the hell did you go now?"

Buffy fell into her room, Spike's voice unexpected and therefore scaring the crap out of
her. She looked up at him from her spot on the floor and glared.

"You're not so good at this sneaking thing," he observed with a slight frown, arms
crossed.

"I've had no problems until you came back. It doesn't help when a certain someone
scares the crap out of me everytime I'm on my way in."

He held out his hand. "Sorry."

She took his hand and helped her up. He moved quickly away, turning his back on her. He found her bureau suddenly interesting and started picking up her bottles of perfume, lotions and hair accessories.

"Spike, we need to talk," she told him on a sigh, sitting on her bed.

He froze. "I know."

"So do you want to start or—"

He turned around and faced her. "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry."

That hurt. Her face fell. "You shouldn't have kissed me?"

He nodded, looking down.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked softly.

He nodded again.

"I'm kind of not sorry," she admitted.

His head snapped up. "What?"

"It was. . . nice."

"Nice?"

She nodded.

He shook his head. "No, Buffy, it was wrong."

"Well, see I thought it was wrong when I started having these feelings – or I called them
‘reactions', but Doyle just rolled his eyes—"

"Wait, what? You started having feelings? When?"

She gulped, squirming under his intense blue gaze. "Uh, yesterday. Wow. Yesterday
seems like so long ago, doesn't it?"

"You were having feelings for me?"

"Yeah, and I thought it was wrong."

"Thought? So you don't think so anymore?"

"Well, I'm starting to think it isn't. It still feels a little. . . icky."

He nodded, his eyes sad. "That's because it is."

"But it felt right, didn't it? It did to me."

"Buffy, kissing you is something I've—" he broke off, shaking his head. "If you only
knew how I'd wanted it for so long."

"How long?" she asked softly. The territory they were starting on was unknown and
terrifying and yet she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Buffy, I don't want to do this."

She jumped up, "Why not?"

"Because it's playing with fire."

"Fine, would you feel more comfortable talking about it outside, downstairs, with a
mediator—where? You can't just lay the best kiss I've ever had on me and then run off like that.
I'm confused, I want to know what's happening and you just – you just –RUN. Do you know
how damn annoying that is? I've got questions dammit. Legitimate questions that you should
be answering here."

"Sometimes it's best to leave things alone Buffy. Sometimes knowledge is a good thing,
but sometimes it can get you into trouble when you know too much . . . Best kiss you say?"

"You know all this time I always thought that some guy had some pretty big shoes to
fill because of you. I always wanted someone as cool and as courageous as my big brother—"

"That's just it right there, Buffy. BROTHER."

"Shut up and let me finish," she snapped.

He held up his hands. "Finish."

"So here I was thinking that you were the greatest thing ever. Here I was hoping that
some guy would be as sweet as you could be and as smart and as kind. I never really thought
until this afternoon that maybe what I was really wanting was you. I just placed all that on
some imaginary guy because, as you said –BROTHER. And then I started having these weird
feelings for you that I really think were just there all this time waiting for me to realize them ..." Her eyes welled up in tears. "And then you kiss me and run from me and . . . then you stand
here when I have all these questions and all these –fucking feelings—and you –you know
what? You're not as courageous as I thought you once were. You're a coward. So maybe you
helped me figure some things out. Maybe, just maybe all of those feelings were just me STILL
putting you up on a pedestal."

"I don't deserve to be put on a pedestal Buffy," he said softly, his voice trembling.

"You're right. Thanks for jumping down from your position. If you're not willing to talk to me about what all this means and what happened earlier and what's been obviously happening all along then I think you should leave."

Spike nodded abruptly, looking very much sorry, and walked out of her room. Buffy closed her eyes when the door clicked shut and started to cry. Sitting down on her bed, she blindly reached for her phone and called the one person in the world she could always count on: Doyle.

Spike heard her leave the house once more. Instinctively, he knew she was going to see Doyle. He swiped at his tears and buried his head in his hands. What the fuck was he thinking kissing her like that? And God, it was the best kiss of HIS life and he knew, just KNEW that no one could ever compare to her. No one ever could before and no one ever would. He could hear Dru's voice in his head, the anger in her voice, the hurt in her eyes. She asked him time and again why he couldn't push Buffy away, why she haunted him, why she always saw his Golden Princess dancing all around him. She'd said he was covered with her and despite how he'd tried to hide it, shove it from his mind, it was always there.

Dru had blamed him for it all. Said he was responsible for her ‘sampling other goodies'. Said it was because of him she was being driven round the bend. Because he couldn't let Buffy go and that it was sick and wrong and sick and . . . wrong. It played like a broken record in his mind. She begged him to fix her and love her, just her. Yet, he couldn't. He loved Buffy and because of that love, he drove Dru to insanity.

Buffy would hate him if she knew he was the one that drove Drusilla mad. And God, he did want to tell her. Wanted to find peace in her arms and have her tell him that it was all right, that he wasn't a bad person.

The doctors had told him that Drusilla had a history of being in and out of mental hospitals. They'd said that she was only trying to take her down with him, that she enjoyed power games. But Spike knew. He knew it was his fault, that he had locked her forever away to be treated by strangers, to have her mind gone and to never be allowed in the world again because he loved Buffy. He loved Buffy and the only reason he ever married Drusilla in the first place was to try and put Buffy behind him.

Now, despite it all, he still loved her as much as he had when he'd left, while he was away and ever since he'd been back.

He whimpered, "Forgive me," and succumbed to the tears.
 

Chapter Eleven

Buffy's attention span was minimal, which was why she'd opted to skip class the following day. Plus, she was exhausted from being up all night bitching and crying to Doyle about Spike shutting her out yet again. This time, it cut even deeper because there things there – feelings not ‘reactions' – that she'd never felt before and since Spike was the one stirring them all up inside her, he was the one she wanted to figure it out with. Yet, he didn't want her. Or, at least, he felt it was wrong to want her, which in turn made her feel as if she were dirty for wanting him. It was a dirty cycle.

Apparently she'd exhausted Doyle too since he was skipping class with her, lying beside her on the warm, soft grass in the middle of the quad with his eyes closed. She wasn't sure if he was actually napping, but her mind was racing too much to contemplate sleep.

"See, this is why you never get any boyfriends."

Buffy rolled her eyes. Just what she needed: Harmony. Buffy sat up and
stared at the blond twit. "Now my day is complete," she said dryly.

"Especially not with your bitch hanging around all the time," Harmony
continued on, ignoring Buffy's comment.

Doyle sat up then, and placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I'm her
bitch now? I was certain it was the other way around. Color me informed."

"What's wrong Harm? Spike leave your ego feeling a little dented when he
wouldn't take you up on your offer to be his whore for the night?" Buffy
smirked.

She was more than a little surprised when Harmony smirked back and her
eyes glittered in that ‘I know something you don't know and you're going to
hate it' way. She'd seen that look on Harmony before well enough to know
that was the reason why her heart dropped to her stomach.

"That what he told you? Such a gentleman, not wanting to hurt his paragon
of virtue."

"Oh. My. God." Doyle gasped mockingly. "Harmony – you really ARE
getting an education here and not just freeloading on Daddy's money. Such
a big word for you to use. Paragon. And you used it in the right context!"
Doyle golf clapped. "Well done."

Buffy ignored him though, only focusing on what Harmony said. She stood.
"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean, we . . . well, we had some fun," Harmony giggled, twirling her hair
with her hand.

"We saw the kissing you ignorant boob," Doyle said and stood next to
Buffy.

"That's not ALL the fun we had."

"You're lying," Buffy whispered.

"Am I? Then how would I know that Spike goes commando? Or that he
has a tiny little scar on his left thigh?"

"You're lying," Buffy whispered again, but she knew for once the girl
wasn't.

"Why don't you ask Spike? He was quite yummy," Harmony giggled again
and bounced off.

Doyle grabbed Buffy's arm. "Buffy—"

"I'm going to fucking kill him."



********************************************************************************************



She wasn't aware of what Doyle was saying to her as she determinedly
made her way to the construction site to see Spike. All she kept see was
Harmony and Spike . . . doing things. All she could focus on was her anger
and her hurt. Granted, Spike didn't know that Harmony was the bane of
her existence, nor did she have any hold of him at that time but . . . But
dammit she was jealous! She was more jealous now than she had been that
night and so very angry. Not only had he lied but he went and desecrated
everything he'd told her about ‘waiting' and ‘being in love'. He was a
hypocrite! He kept Buffy as his virgin and made Harmony his whore. Not
that Harmony wasn't already, but he lied!

She saw him hammering away on a piece of wood, the sweat pouring off
him, his muscles rippling under his t-shirt and she paused in her
determination.

He was beautiful.

All that beauty was with Harmony, the voice in her head reminded her.
Yep, he was tainted beauty now. Her fists balled into fists and her jaw
clenched as she marched towards him.

Someone must have alerted him to her presence because he stood and
looked over, looking surprised. Then, he smiled gently for a brief moment
until she got closer and then he looked uncertain.

"Hey, pet, to what do I owe this honor?" he asked carefully.

Those lips that had been on her just the night before had been on
Harmony's lips and possibly—those hands, those strong hands and those
strong arms that held her had done the same—possibly more—to Harmony.


"Do you have a scar on your left thigh?" she asked angrily.

He furrowed his brow, "What?"

"Do you or don't you?"

"Yeah, a small one. I got it when—"

She never let him finish. Her rage bubbled forth and she hauled off and
punched him right in the gut with all her might. He doubled over.

Her eyes widened as she watched him hunch over, gasping for air.

"Okay, then, let's get you out of here Muhammad Ali," Doyle said and took
Buffy's hand, tugging on her to move.

She felt frozen, which explained why she nearly fell over her own feet
when she tried to walk with Doyle.

"Buffy—wait," Spike burst out.

Harmony's smirking face came back to haunt her and Buffy shook her
head, "No."

"What's going on, Buffy, wait!" Spike rushed after her, grabbing her arm,
one arm around his middle. "Buffy, I know you're angry with me but—"

"Tell me nothing happened with you and Harmony," Buffy interrupted.

His eyes widened, pretty much telling her everything she needed to know.

"You lied to me," Buffy hissed, her voice shaking with anger and hurt.

"Buffy, what did she tell you?" Spike asked, the panic rising in his voice.

"What does it matter? It's true isn't it? Just say it Spike. Just tell me you
lied to me."

He hung his head.

"I hate you," whispered, her eyes welling up in tears.

"Buffy, no, please don't say that," he begged, pulling her closer to him.

She slapped his hand away, "Don't touch me."

"Buffy—" he started.

"Buffy, honey, let's go," Doyle soothed, bringing her closer to him,
wrapping an arm around her to comfort and calm her.

"Doyle," Spike started to plead.

"Not right now," Doyle snapped. "Just leave it alone right now unless you
want one of these two by fours shoved up your ass and trust me, it WON'T be
by her!"

Spike stopped, nodding dumbly. "I'm sorry."

Doyle shook his head in disapproval before leading Buffy away as tears
seeped from her eyes.

"Dude, what did you do?" Xander asked, coming up beside him.

"I hurt the girl," Spike whispered.
 

Chapter Twelve

"Organs don't feel emotions," Buffy said as she was curled up in a ball on Doyle's bed. Doyle sat beside her, rubbing her back gently.


"Yes, that's true," Doyle said slowly.


"Then why does your heart ache when you're hurt? I don't understand it. It pumps blood, it doesn't . . . it's not supposed to feel. My spleen and my liver don't hurt when my feelings are hurt. So then what is it about the heart? Why does it feel as if someone is squeezing it?"

"Squeezing?"


"Yes, squeezing. Just enough to stop it from doing its job properly. Just enough to make this incredible ache that makes me want to rip it out so I don't feel it anymore. I feel like it could just stop beating. Like I could have a heart attack from it aching so much."

"Oh Buffy, I wish I could stop the ache for you," Doyle said sadly.

Buffy rolled over onto her back and looked up at him. "Why do you have to be gay?"


He smiled gently. "Why do you have to be a girl?"

She smiled wanly back and then rolled back over. "You don't mind if I
stay here tonight?"


"Of course not. And you know my parents think of you as the daughter
they never had. So really you're just letting them live out a fantasy by
being here."


"My parents are going to start wondering why I don't want to be home
anymore," she murmured into the pillow.


"Eh, not really. You still spend the same amount of time here as always."

"My mother was hoping Spike and I would get close."


"Which part hurts you more? The part where he lied or the part where it
was Harmony?"


She contemplated that for a minute. "Both," she finally said. Then, "Well,
to be fair he didn't know about my history with Harmony. . . but it's just the
thought that some girl comes around . . . And especially after all the crap he
spewed about how important it was to wait for someone special."


"Playing devils advocate here, but maybe he just meant that you should wait for someone special when it's your first time."


"So then all bets are off after that?" She shook her head. "He just doesn't want me to have sex. He wants me to stay all virginal and sweet—"

"After that punch you laid on him today, I doubt he'll be quick to use
‘sweet' as the first adjective to describe you."


Buffy giggled slightly.


"There's a little giggle," Doyle said lightly, poking her side.

"Still, Doyle. He went on about how he slept with the girl he loved –
and then married, mind you—but then Harmony comes along and—What is
that all about?"


"Did you ever think he took up with her because he couldn't have the girl
he really wanted?"


She rolled over and looked back up at him. "You mean me?"

Doyle nodded.

She wrinkled her nose. "Gross. Harmony was my substitute."


"It's just a theory Buffy."

"Then he lied to me. Why did he lie to me?"


"He didn't want you to be upset with him. He didn't want the wind knocked out of him with a swift punch to the gut. He was ashamed of his behavior. He didn't want you to think less off him."

Buffy sat up, scowling. "Doesn't make it all right."


"It doesn't," Doyle agreed.

"I fucking asked him and he fucking lied. Right to my face." She pointed at her face.


Doyle nodded. "I'm actually pretty surprised on both accounts. I never
pegged him as one to do anything with Harmony and I never pegged him as
one to lie – well, to lie to you anyway."


"You know stuff, don't you?" she looked at him curiously.

"Depends on what you mean by ‘stuff'."


She gave him a look. "You know what I mean."

"I have strong suspicions."


"You have all along."

"Since he flipped out on me in your bedroom that day."


"How is that possible?"

"Because Buffy, he didn't react like a simple protective brother. He was
over and beyond that. Don't get me wrong, he did want to make sure your
virtue wasn't endangered, but it wasn't just brotherly. He was jealous."


"You amaze me."

Doyle shrugged, "I know, I'm pretty amazing."


"Do you think he – I mean do you think he—?"

"Loves you?"


Buffy nodded.

"Yes. But he has the same hang ups you had—have?"


"Sort of still have. Though currently dissipating by the minute with all this
ache in my heart. It kind of makes you focus more on what the other
person means to you and sibling feelings don't make you ache like this."


"I also think that there's something else. You're right about something
haunting him. I bet it has a lot to do with his time on the east coast and his
ex wife."


"I wonder if he cheated on her. Ooo! Ooo! Maybe he's a serial cheater. A
nympho that just can't help himself. Maybe he's afraid he'll do the same to
me that he did to her and that's why he fights it so hard. Ooo! Ooo! Maybe
she went crazy because—No, she cheated on him. But maybe because he
did it first or—"


"Buffy, the plain and simple matter of it is, you're not going to know until
you talk to him about it."


"That's just it, Doyle. He's not talking to me about it, remember? And honestly, I'm a little too angry and hurt to talk to him right now."


***********************************************************


Somehow Buffy had managed to avoid him for three days. Three very long
days. He hadn't even had a glimpse of her, barely even heard her through
the wall in his room. Course, she'd spent one night at Doyle's, and then no doubt climbed through her window on the remaining nights to avoid him. She'd called Joyce with her plans and even Joyce was starting to get suspicious about all the time Buffy was starting to spend over at Doyle's and the reasons why. She'd asked him if they were getting along okay and he'd lied –again—and said yes, they were getting along fine.

On the third night, he'd had enough and decided he'd just wait in her room until she got home. But, the stubborn –and incredibly smart chit—had locked her door. The message was clear to him: Stay away.


But he was going crazy with not being able to see her, with knowing that she hated him, with knowing that she was hurt and he'd been the one that caused it. At first he thought time apart would be helpful, but now . . . Now he just wanted to do whatever he could to have her forgive him.

He was even willing to tell her everything about Dru.


Now he just had to corner her long enough to get her to talk to him. Well, if she was going to lock him out of her room, then he'd just wait outside for her. Right behind that damn tree she climbed to get in.

*********************************************************

He was starting to fall asleep. He shook his head and tried to check his watch. He tilted it toward the moonlight when he heard voices coming closer.


"Thanks for tonight Buffy." Male. A male voice. Spike narrowed his eyes and quietly stood, maneuvering himself so he could observe this, and yet not attract attention.

It was the tall guy she'd been talking to at The Bronze that fateful night. His hands balled into fists.

"Well, thank YOU for the ice cream, Riley," Buffy told him.


"So maybe we could do this again?"

"Of course, just give me a call. Night!" she started for the tree and waved. The doofus she called Riley waved and crossed the street.


He could hear her humming to herself as she came closer. She reached out to put her hand on the first branch when Spike decided to strike. He moved out from the shadows and sidled up behind her, clamping a hand over her mouth.

He managed to get out "It's me," just as her elbow connected with his gut. He doubled over stumbled back as she spun around, eyes wide and slightly horrified.


He rubbed his sore stomach and gasped for air. "Bloody hell, Buffy. Guess I never have to worry about you being able to defend yourself huh?"

She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. "What are you doing with the waiting behind the tree?"


"You locked your door."

"Take the hint," she told him and turned, reaching for the branch again.


He grabbed her wrist, halting her. "Buffy, we need to talk."

She tried to free herself, but he held on. "We need to talk now? I see. When
you're ready we talk. But when I wanted to, you couldn't be bothered. Well,
you know what? Now I can't be bothered. Now let me go."


He shook his head, "No."

"I have another arm left and my legs. Let. Me. Go."


"If I have to tie you up, I will. Just . . . just at least hear me out."

She sighed heavily. "Fine."


"Mean that?"

She nodded. "Now let me go."


He released her, but was prone for action should she make a run for it. She
didn't. Instead, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You have
five minutes. Make it good."
 

Chapter Thirteen


"Five minutes? That's all you're giving me?" Spike asked, exasperated.

"And how many times have I asked you over the past week to tell me what's going on? You sat right in my room and said that we needed to talk and instead I got a goddamn sermon on how it was ‘wrong' that we – and that I – and then you walked out of my room after I gave you the option to
talk to me. So do NOT act as if you're getting the shaft here, Spike."

"I know, you're right," Spike nodded, hanging his head. "You did try and
I—"

"Ran away? Avoided? If the shoe was on the other foot, you'd be just as
fed up."

He looked up and met her eyes. "You're absolutely right."

"Four minutes left."

"I didn't have sex with Harmony," he blurted out.

The angry expression on her face wavered, her cold eyes softening, but
moving towards hurt. He preferred anger rather than her pain.

"You didn't deny it though," she pointed out.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, let me try this again. I was in the
process of oral—"

She shut her eyes and he stopped. "Do you want me to continue?" he
asked.

"Yes."

"She was, well, she was –"

"I get it. Did you –do the same to her?" her voice sounded so small.

He shook his head, "She didn't even get to uh, finish."

Her eyebrows knit. "I thought you couldn't just stop in the middle – I
mean, doesn't it hurt?"

"Would you have rather I finished?" he asked lazily.

She shook her head. "No. But that doesn't even matter—Why didn't she
finish?"

"Because of you."

"Me?" she squeaked.

"I was . . . Buffy I was thinking of you and I said your name while—"

"Oh my God!" she slapped her hand over her mouth. Then she dropped
the hand and pointed at him. "You were" And then she pointed at his groin
area, "—While she was--" Her hand flew back to her mouth. "Oh my God!"

He looked at her sheepishly and then at the ground. "I was thinking of
you, yes."

"I think I'm too stunned to actually feel anything about that. I know I
probably should. I mean . . . I should. Why did you – Why did you hook up
with her in the first place? Why were you thinking of me—does this have to
do with Drusilla? Does it have to do with what you started to tell me before
our kiss?"

"This is going to take longer than five minutes, Buffy."

"It's already probably been over five minutes anyway."

"Shall I start at the beginning?"

"The beginning being...?"

"The beginning being when you were fourteen and I was seventeen."

Her eyes widened.

"Do you want to go inside maybe?" he asked.

She shook her head and plunked right down on the grass. He smiled down
at her and slowly sat himself down across from her, their knees touching as
they both sat Indian-style.

"All right luv, we'll start from the beginning. You ready?"

"Yes," and she nodded again.

"Buffy, there's really no easy way to ease into telling you this . . . and I'm
sure it might not be something you want to hear. But it's the whole reason
why I had to leave and why Dru went crazy and—" he stopped, his eyes
filled with tears. "It's all my fault," he whispered.

She reached out and placed her hand on his arm in comforting gesture for
a moment. "Tell me, please Spike."

He met her eyes and nodded. "Buffy, the thing is – I love you. I am in love
with you pet. I have been since I was seventeen, hell probably even before
that . . ."

Buffy stayed immobile, her expression unreadable. That unnerved him,
but he continued. "I left home because I had to get away from you. You
were growing so much and so fast and so—God, Buffy, you have any idea
how gorgeous you are? Make my blood burn, you do. Turn my world
upside down and off its axis.

And you were fourteen. Still barely a teenager. Hell, you didn't even care
about boys at that time. And here I was, supposed to be your older brother
and I wanted you for myself. I was supposed to protect you from blokes
like me. I was even worse than that—I'm your brother—"

"STEPbrother," Buffy said quietly.

He stared at her hopefully. "Buffy, what does that mean?"

"Please finish," she said firmly.

He nodded abruptly, "Right. I fell in love with you Buffy when you were
still no more than the ten year old girl I met. It was ingrained into me how
we were going to be a family. How Dad was so happy because he had met
someone to spend his life with after being so heartbroken over my Mum,
and how he was going to be a father again – to you. He let me know how big
brothers treat their little sisters. It was nice. I was excited about it. I had
someone to look after and it made me feel . . . needed. I wanted a sibling
before and now I was going to have one. One that I could talk to and hang
out with and have a special bond with. And you . . . " He grinned, "You
loved me. You hung on my every word, you thought I was cool and I knew
it. I soaked it all up and thought that I had the best sister in the world."

He shook his head and paused for a minute to gather his thoughts. "Then
you started to grow up. One day it seemed . . . one day was all it took and
you‘d grown into this beautiful young woman and I found myself thinking
things that I shouldn't have been thinking. I found myself thinking things I
would have pummeled any guy for thinking about you. But God, Buffy, you
had me enraptured. You were everything I could have ever wanted in a
girl: Smart, funny, gorgeous, independent and feisty . . . I fell hard. How
could I not have? And you still thought I was the coolest guy. I felt as if I
were betraying you, betraying Mum and Dad and our family. I wasn't
wanting you as my sister anymore, I wanted you as my girlfriend, my
lover, my best friend, my . . . Everything.
So I did what every guy does who believes he's twisted and perverted – I
took off. Had to get away from you, Buffy. Thought if I put some distance
between us, I'd get over you."

She raised her eyebrows. "SOME distance? A whole different coast of
distance."

He nodded, "And it still wasn't enough. I never stopped loving you Buffy. I
tried so hard too. I chose a girl that wasn't the Golden Girl you are. I chose
someone a little dark, rough around the edges, ‘touched' I guess you could
say. That was Dru. I called her my Dark Princess. She saw something in me
and it drew her to me. I was drawn to her too. Mainly because she was so
different than you and I thought that was what I needed to put my love for
you behind me.
Dru knew after a while that something was up. She never said much in the
beginning, just hints here and there about how my mind was on ‘sunshine'.
We were just chatting one day about our families and she asked to see
pictures. I took them out and showed her the album Mum made me before
I left home. Course, I had added my own to the pile; mainly pictures of you.
Dru, she started shaking and moaning and muttering to herself. She
pointed to your picture and stared me down and said with perfect clarity ‘That is your sunshine. You're covered with her.'
I knew what she meant then and I clammed up. I couldn't tell her. But she knew. She would whisper to me that she'd help me, that she'd get me to forget. I put my all into our relationship. I took care of her on days she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. I made sure she took her meds. I married her."

"To help her?"

Spike nodded, "Yes. I thought it was what she needed, what I needed. I thought if I married her, she'd see that I loved her, not you. But it was a lie, a sham. And she knew that too. She started having fits. She would go through spells where she'd yell at me and blame me for making her sick. She told me I was sick and perverted and I should be locked up. Towards the end when we . . . when I made love to her, she started taunting me, telling me she knew I was thinking of you." He broke off, not able to stop the tears that were falling. He was trying to gain control so he could finish telling her what had been kept inside for so long, but the memories of it were raw and it racked him with such guilt to remember.

He did not expect Buffy to crawl into his lap, but that was what she did. When he looked up at her in shock at her gesture, he saw tears in her own eyes. He sat there dumb, unsure of what to do and unable to make a move as she wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Spike. Let me help," she whispered.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and he sobbed into her shoulder, wetting her shirt. And still, she held onto him, rubbing his back and murmuring words of comfort and support.

When his sobs quieted down, she urged him to continue.

"She wasn't functioning in reality much anymore," Spike said, holding onto Buffy tightly. "She had these dolls she'd had since she was a child. She spent hours dressing them up and having ‘tea parties' with them. Her favorite doll, Miss Edith she called her, she would carry around and talk to. About me. About you. She started saying how Miss Edith knew I was unfaithful in my heart and in my thoughts. I begged her to stop, I told her over and over that she was wrong and I wanted," he stopped, taking a deep breath to keep the new onslaught of tears at bay, "I wanted it to be true. But the thing was . . . the sicker she got, the more I missed you.
I stayed away and kept you away from me because I couldn't bear it Buffy. I felt so guilty for what I'd done to her . . . It was my fault she got so sick. If I didn't love you, if I could have let you go, if I wasn't so twisted for loving you –"

"No, Spike. No," Buffy said softly, squeezing him. "You're not twisted. You're not perverted. You're not wrong. She was already sick Spike. She tormented you to bring you down with her. She enjoyed it probably. You took care of her and did all that you could and she wanted to make you just like her. Spike. . . " she pulled back just a little and cupped his face with her hands, her own eyes glittering with tears. "You're not wrong, Spike. Believe me. Listen to me. You're not wrong. You're not twisted. Please, believe me, please."

She pressed her lips against his and he let out a moan; a mixture of anguish and relief. Pulling her close, he kissed her desperately, finding his solace in her embrace, in her touch. Tears fell and blended as they sought peace from one another.

 

Chapter Fourteen

Buffy was the first to break the kiss, gasping for air. Spike stared at her, he too left panting. He pressed his forehead against hers.

"How could something wrong feel so right?" he asked reverently.

"Because it's not wrong," she whispered. "I thought it was at first too, but Spike…there's no blood between us. It's not incest. We're step siblings by marriage only. It's different, a little awkward, but not wrong."

He shut his eyes and breathed in her scent, burying his face in her neck.
"How did you become so wise?" he mumbled against her skin.

She let out a short laugh. "I'm not wise. I'm just fumbling through life like everyone else. Occasionally I get something right, but then Doyle likes to take credit for it. He knew, you know."

His head snapped up. "He did?"

"Yep. He's intuitive like that. And not once did he think it was icky or wrong."

He chuckled half-heartedly.

"Spike, those phone calls with Mom – Did you tell her? Does she know?"

He shook his head, "No, she doesn't." He brushed some hair from her face as he spoke. "She knows Dru got really sick and that she was difficult to deal with. When I called and talked to Mum, I didn't tell her the parts about you. I told her everything else that Dru did—the dolls, the days she couldn't get out of bed. I left you out of it Buffy. How could I tell my step mother that I was desperately in love with her daughter?" He kissed her quickly.
"Buffy," he moaned. "I love you so much. I've waited so long to have you in my arms like this. I never thought . . . God, I never thought you'd be here in my arms." He kissed her fervently, desperately. Lustfully. He was filled with unrequited passion for her and even virginal Buffy knew these kisses were filled with the promise of something other than just rejoicing in knowing she reciprocated his feelings. Well, for the most part. . She couldn't blame him for taking that turn so quickly. Six years was a long time to want and not have. To yearn and to think you were wrong for it and that the one you yearned for was off limits; untouchable. However, she also knew that taking that step was not something he was ready for, not even if his body was saying otherwise. She knew she definitely wasn't ready, but if she had been . . . the ramifications of it for him would be difficult. There was no way he could reconcile his mind so quickly after years of being conditioned to think it was dirty. She could not and would not do that to him; to them.

She pushed at him slightly. "Spike, stop."

He looked wounded by her halting him.

"Don't look at me like that," she told him softly. "I'm not . . . I'm not
rejecting you. But I'm also not going to let you do something that you—and
I – will regret later. And, well, I'm not ready for that."

"I'm sorry, I'm pushing."

"You're not pushing, not yet anyway. But those kisses are intense and . . .
Spike, you've told me so much tonight and I haven't been able to process it
all and you're so upset by it all . . . I don't even know where to begin."

"Do you love me Buffy?"

"The way you love me?"

He nodded.

"Not yet."

He looked away from her; hurt.

"No, stop, look at me," she urged, putting her hand under his chin and
gently forcing him to look at her. "Spike, I've only just begun to process my
feelings for you. I haven't been in the same place as you for the past six
years. I think a part of me was there, but . . . not enough to fully realize it. I
know that I am falling for you. I know that I want to help you sort through
what Dru did to you—"

"It's what I did to myself," he murmured.

"No," she shook her head. "She really did a number on you. Brainwashed
you. You've spent so much time feeling guilty and twisted. . . I might not be
the only one that can help you."

He met her eyes, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that with all the stuff that Dru did to you, the way she
tormented your mind and made you feel dirty, maybe you need to see
someone Spike."

"Like a shrink?"

"Yes. Having dealt with what you dealt with—it's got to have done stuff to
you."

"I never considered the possibility. I thought if I went . . . "

"You'd be judged. You thought the answers were black and white. Sister,
brother equals incest. Except, step sister, step brother equals no incest.
Shades of gray, I'll give you, but no longer black and white."

"And those shades of gray?"

She smiled gently and kissed his brow, "One step at a time. One day at a
time. Nothing has to be decided tonight, or even tomorrow."

"You forgive me for Harmony?" he asked softly, averting his eyes.

"Was she a botched experiment to get over. . .? "

"You? Yes."

"After you went on about how sex was special and that I should wait," she
pointed out dryly.

"I was desperate Buffy. Desperation can do things to you."

"Just promise me—"

"I would never Buffy. I'm so close now, don't you see? You're not disgusted
by me . . . "

"You thought that I--? Oh Spike, how could you—Never mind, I know how
you could. Spike, I don't blame you for what happened with Drusilla. I get
it, I understand. I know because I felt wrong too. . . but I know it's not."

He smiled softly and buried his face back in her neck. "You're my angel,"
he murmured, causing her to break out with goosebumps at the feel of his
breath on her skin. She shivered.

"Are you cold, sweetheart? Do you want to go in?" he asked, looking up at
her, concern on his handsome face.

She smiled warmly at him. This was the side Drusilla had gotten to see that
she was only beginning to see. Spike as the lover. The concerned, gentle
lover that wanted to cherish and protect, that wanted to take care of the
one he loved. She could imagine him taking care of Drusilla, being calm with
her and patient with her. Warring with himself while he tried desperately
to do the right thing. How hard it must have been for him to project
compassion and understanding when inside he was being ripped to shreds.
Her heart ached for him. She wrapped her arms around him, and held him
tight.

"Sweetheart?"

"I'm so glad you're home," she whispered, not wanting him to know she
was crying.

"So am I sweetheart, so am I." It was the first time Buffy thought he
meant it.

***************************************************************

For the first time in years, Spike woke the next morning not feeling burdened by guilt and misery. His heart felt lighter, his mind at more peace than he'd known in what felt like forever.

Buffy had given him the sweetest kiss good night before retreating to her bedroom and he went to bed with a smile on his face. He wanted to bask in her purity and loveliness for the whole night, but knew that was not in the cards yet. They still had things to work through—his demons just lurking beneath the surface and yet quieter now. Then, there was Mum and Dad. But that would have to come later. Buffy was right. He had to find a way to reconcile what he'd thought about loving her and what he'd been told about loving her from Drusilla to now; to feeling it wasn't a dirty, wrong thing.

"Spike, get up! You're going to be late!" Buffy called through the door.
She was such a bossy chit and God, he loved it. She was down the stairs before he could get to the door. Whistling, he pulled on his clothes, brushed his teeth and combed his hair before practically running down the stairs to greet his Golden Girl.

He was about to lunge at her to bring her in for a greedy kiss when he saw Joyce upon entering the kitchen. He nearly halted in his tracks and Buffy shot him a knowing look.

"You all right, Mum?" he asked as he poured himself an orange juice.

"What are you doing home still?"

Joyce let out a sigh. "Oh, I'm being sent to L.A. to help out with the exhibit there this weekend. Your father is coming with me. I'm going to pack and check on things at the gallery before we leave tonight. Will you two be all right here alone?"

Spike nodded calmly, while inside he was doing the Snoopy dance. A weekend alone with his Buffy. Time together without having to hide. Just what they both needed.

"I don't know if we can handle it Mom. You think Gram can come and stay with us? I might be too afraid. Or tempted to have a raging party," Buffy said, deadpan.

Spike chuckled and Joyce shot her a sour look. "Very funny," she said.

"Couldn't resist," Buffy shrugged. "I think we can handle it. I'll make sure Spike eats and showers and gets to bed at a reasonable hour."

Joyce rolled her eyes and left the room.

"You're such a bitch," Spike chuckled.

"I know. I love it," she said and giggled.

"I love it too," he said softly, meeting her eyes. "Well, sometimes," he grinned.

She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, leaving him wanting more, but when he reached for her she said "Mom", and he stopped.

"Have Chinese take out tonight?" she asked as she rinsed her breakfast dish and stacked it in the dishwasher.

"Sounds good, luv."

Creeping across the kitchen, she listened for Joyce and then leaned in and gave him another kiss. "Have a good day, Spike."

"Buffy, I love you," he couldn't help himself from gushing.

She smiled, "I know. Bye for now."

"Miss me?" he said hopefully.

"I always do." And he could tell she meant it.



 

Chapter Fifteen

"You were right," Buffy told Doyle later that day as they sat in the quad having lunch during their hour break before their next class.

"About?"

"Spike having feelings for me."

"Buffy, a deaf, dumb and blind person could have figured that out," he said
rolling his eyes.

She gave him a look.

"Okay, you're right. It was my powers of intuition that deduced that," he
grinned cockily.

"Well, there's more to the story."

"Buffy are you telling me that you and Spike finally talked?"

She nodded slowly.

"Tell me!"

She bit her lip.

"What?" Doyle asked.

"I feel like I'd be betraying him by telling you and yet . . . I feel like I need
you on this. I'm torn."

Doyle nodded, "Buffy, if you feel you can't tell me because you feel you'd be
betraying Spike, then you don't have to tell me. I understand completely.
However, you do know that I'm your best friend and I love you to bits. I
would NEVER do ANYTHING to hurt you. I would never do anything to hurt Spike either because he's yours and you love him—"

"I never said I loved him—"

"Please," he waved her off. "It's coming."

"Yes, that's true," she agreed, nodding slowly. "Just not there yet. There's
so much to work through first," she sighed. "Not the least of which are the
rents beyond what damage Drusilla did to him."

"Ah, so the evil bitch did do something to him."

"Yes, and she sounds like a piece of work."

"Buffy, why don't you start at the beginning so I'm not getting bits and
pieces here that are impossible to piece together."

Buffy took a deep breath. "Okay, well, see, it all started when I was
fourteen and Spike was seventeen . . . "

When she was finished, Doyle let out a low whistle. "The poor guy."

"I know. Do you think it was. . . Do you think it was controlling of me to tell
him he should get help?"

"Not at all, why would you think that?"

"Because Drusilla spent so much time telling him he was wrong and trying
to control his life."

"Which," Doyle started knowingly, "She didn't succeed at. You were ever
prevalent in his mind and in his heart."

"And she knew it."

"Yes, but, it wasn't what drove her round the bend Buffy. It was all her.
She was already there, Spike was just her outlet. He was fighting his
demons and she knew it. She fed off it. She was losing control over her own
life and she wanted to take him with her so she'd feel she had control over
something."

"I'm sure it hurt her to know that he harbored feelings for me while he was
married to her."

"No doubt. I'm not saying that Spike's actions were the best, but his
reasons for doing them make sense."

Buffy nodded, "Yes, I know."

"So, no, I don't think telling him he should get help is wrong. When you
have to deal with someone who has a sickness like that, it does do stuff to
you. That's why they have support groups for those who have a friend or
family member who is an alcoholic or has bipolar disorder—there's a reason
why, Buffy. So telling him that is not wrong or controlling. It says to me
that you care a great deal about his well-being and realize that you can't do
it all on your own. Being with you I'm sure helps, but you're not his ‘cure.'"

Buffy smiled broadly and lunged at Doyle, wrapping her arms around him.
"I so love you Doyle. I knew I couldn't not tell you. I need you."

"You have me, you know that," he smiled at her. "Now get off me before
everyone thinks I'm straight. I've got a rep to protect."

Buffy giggled and sat back down. "Meanwhile," she continued as if there
had been no interruptions in their conversation, "the rents have left for the
weekend."

Doyle raised a brow. "Playtime for the kiddies?"

Buffy started to fidget. "I—I'm nervous Doyle."

"Why?"

"Because Spike has been having these feelings all this time and he's been
tortured by it, but it helps to know that I feel things back and what if he –
what if he wants to do stuff?"

"By stuff are we talking sex?"

"Yes. I told him already that we weren't ready for that."

"Absolutely right."

"But even virginal me knows there's other things to do . . . " There was a
slight whine to her voice.'

"Like what he didn't complete with Harmony?"

Buffy shot him a look, "Thanks for reminding me of that."

"Sorry. Look, Buffy, there is nothing wrong with showing affection for one
another. Of course he's going to want to because not only is he in love with
you, but he's a man. I hear that straight men just can't control themselves."

Buffy laughed.

"So," Doyle continued. "You go by what's comfortable for you."

"Which isn't much right now."

"Exactly."

*************************************************************

"Spike!" Buffy called as she entered the house. "Honey, I'm home!" she giggled and went for the kitchen to get something to drink.

"Hey darlin'."

She nearly jumped a mile as Spike's hands closed around her hips and spun
her around to face him from her position in front of the fridge.

He swooped in immediately and kissed her fervently. "I've been waiting all
day to do that," he breathed when he parted long enough to allow them air.

Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled shyly. "Hi."

He grinned, "Hi."

"How was your day?"

"Insignificant until now, although . . . "

"Although what?"

He met her eyes, "I made an appointment. With a psychologist."

Her eyes widened, "You did?"

He nodded.

She smiled brightly and hugged him tight. "I'm so happy."

"Never thought my seein' a shrink would fill you with such joy."

"It's just that what she did and what you convinced yourself of—"

He pecked her nose. "I know, kitten. It actually felt good to make that
appointment. Like I was making a first step onto something."

"You did."

"Now, I want to lavish my girl with attention. Spent so bloody long wanting
you with me Buffy. I don't want to waste a second."

She kissed his cheek.

He pulled his head back, searching her face. "You are my girl right?"

"Of course I am," she told him and he kissed her again until they were both
panting for air, relief evident.

"And your girl is hungry," she said when they'd caught their breath.

He grinned, "Chinese right?"

She nodded.

"Did you want to go out or stay in?"

"I want to stay in. I don't . . . I don't want to share you yet."

The look of adoration and love that swept over his face nearly made her
fall over with its intensity. No one had ever looked at her like that before.
She'd never seen anyone look at someone like that before. It was
exhilarating and frightening all at the same time. Somehow she knew that
no one aside from Spike would ever look at her like that again, and, she
didn't want them to.

She also felt guilt for lying to him. Well, it was partly a lie anyway. While it
was true she didn't want to leave the sanctuary of their home and their
ability to show their love for each other there without the hindrance of
public awareness, she was also afraid. For people who knew them, Spike
was still her stepbrother and she was still his stepsister. Their parents
didn't even know yet. She was courageous in wanting to forge ahead from
the non existent taboo of their relationship, while at the same time feared
the odd looks and possible comments being together would garner.

Seems she had just as many issues to work through as he did.


 

Chapter Sixteen

They sat, Indian style, across from each other on the couch doing something that Buffy had wanted them to do for so long. They were talking. Just talking and eating and to her it was the best night simply because of this simplicity. Tonight they were Buffy and Spike, having been separated for a long time and were now catching up –focusing on the positive for Spike and both negative (Harmony and high school) and positive (Doyle and college) for Buffy. The undercurrent of their siblingdome was there, but not prevalent and therefore not a hindrance. They were connecting as friends with enough flirting to promise that there was more going on.

The world had slipped away from them it seemed. It was just them; Buffy and Spike.

"Buffy?" Spike asked tentatively.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I hate it when people ask a question like that. It never leads to good
things."

He grinned. "Depends on you and how you take it I suppose."

"Ask," she said waving her hand at him.

"When did you start having feelings for me?"

She blinked. She hadn't expected that question. She shifted in her seat,
suddenly uncomfortable, suddenly needing to move. She plopped her fork
in the carton of pork fried rice and climbed off the couch. "I'm going to put
this away," she told him.

He followed, not surprisingly.

"Buffy," he said deeply behind her, "No more secrets remember?"

Shoving the carton in the fridge, she shut it and turned to him. He was
leaning against the counter, watching her with an eyebrow raised.

"Well, see, the thing is, it's embarrassing."

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, why do I have to tell you exactly when? Isn't all that's
important here is that I do have feelings for you?"

He grinned. "Come on, tell me."

"Well, I think I started having feelings for you the first day you came back.
I was just so happy you were here."

"And then you realized for sure when --?"

She looked at the sink, avoiding his gaze, "When I woke you up on your
first day of work. I uh, I noticed you."

"Noticed me?"

"You had the sheet just kind of draped across your middle and I could see
everything else exposed." Her face was on fire.

"Buffy, look at me."

She slowly met his gaze.

"You don't have to be ashamed to tell me something like that. After what I
told you the other night—"

She threw her arms around him. Partly to give him reassurance and also
so she didn't have to look at him anymore while she confessed her feelings
had started out as lust. "You don't have to be ashamed either," she told
him.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. "I was a
pedophile at seventeen."

"You weren't a pedophile. You never did anything about it."

"I thought it."

"People think weird things all the time, Spike. Kinky things. Doesn't mean
they act on them or that they are wrong for letting them drift into their
minds. You didn't do anything wrong. Three years isn't that much of an age
difference you know."

"I was supposed to protect you," he whispered. "I was supposed to keep
you from guys like me."

"And you did. You still do and you still will. You're the only one that can
defile me. You're still doing your job, just means something different now."

He pulled out of her arms and walked away from her. "Don't say ‘defile'
Buffy. Makes me feel dirty."

"I didn't mean it to be dirty, Spike. I just meant that you're the only one
that can do the things that . . . that boyfriends do."

He looked up at her, "Am I your boyfriend?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, Spike it isn't every day that I put myself out on a limb
like this, that I engage in something akin to a relationship with my . . . my .
. . "

"Stepbrother?" he supplied.

She swallowed and said nothing.

He walked away from her, out of the kitchen and she could hear his
footsteps going up the stairs. Tears sprang to her eyes. That had come out
all wrong, so very wrong. She'd inadvertently made him feel worse and she was trying to make him feel better. She felt at a loss, unsure of which way to go and what to do to make it better. Time. This was going to take time. It wasn't like it would just go away over night with a few simple words, with a few "it's going to be all right's". The thing was; if they couldn't get past this hurdle with it just being them, they wouldn't get past the next few hurdles.
With that thought in mind, Buffy marched herself up the stairs intent on confronting Spike. She paused in front of his door, and raised her fist to knock. She dropped her arm and stared at his door. Then took a deep breath and knocked softly.

"Buffy, not right now," he called to her.

She bit her lip. Go or stay? "No, Spike, I'm coming in," and she pushed the
door open. The room was dim, the only light being a lamp on his dresser
that seemed to shed the barest light it could.

He was on his side, his face turned away from her. She knew without being
able to see his face that he was crying. She took a mental breath and
crawled in next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing
her face into the back of his neck. She placed a kiss there.

"Spike, listen to me," she started. She continued when there was no
response. "I didn't mean to make it sound dirty. I didn't mean to make you
feel worse. I was actually trying to make you feel better by letting you
know that you're the only one I want to experience things with. You're the
first guy in a really long, long time that I've ever wanted to put my heart on
the line for. I'm falling in love with you Spike, and I'm falling rapidly by the
minute.
All this stuff –all this stepsibling stuff, it's there and yeah, it's still gonna
mess with our heads. There's no way it can just disappear overnight and its
going to take some time but we HAVE to work through it. That means no
running away, no avoiding. If you and I can't get through what we feel for
each other together, then how are we going to get through it when it comes
to telling Giles and Mom? I don't want you to give up and I don't want to
give up. This is the first time I've wanted to fight for someone so hard. Please tell me you want to fight too because I can't do this on my own. And I want so much for you to feel good about this—"

He turned to her so fast if she'd blinked she would have missed it. His lips covered her and he engaged her in a desperate kiss filled with longing and need. He broke apart, panting, and buried his face in her neck, holding her tightly, laying a leg over hers possessively.

"I want to fight, Buffy. I just –It's so hard after what I thought was wrong
for so long and God, it feels so right to have you in my arms, to touch you
and kiss you . . . I love you so much . . . it's like I can't breathe . . . "

"Gives a whole new meaning to ‘Take your breath away' huh?"

He chuckled against her. "I'm scared of what's next," he whispered.

She rubbed circles on his back, "Don't be. Not yet anyway. First there's
just us. You and I need to be strong before we take on the rest. If you and I
can't get it together then we won't make it with the rest."

He looked at her then, brushing away tears that had formed during her
speech. "There's only you for me, Buffy. I knew it when I was seventeen
and I know it now at twenty –three. I want it all with you. I want your love
and your friendship. I want to be the bloody world to you because you're
the bloody world to me."

She gasped, "God when you say stuff like that you take MY breath away."
This time she buried her face in his chest, squeezing her eyes shut. "I have
to get used to it. And it's not because you're my step brother. It's the way
you love me. . . It overwhelms me. I'm not used to it."

"Did I scare you?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I'm not . . . no one's ever. When you tell me you've
loved me all this time it makes me wonder what I've done to warrant it, to
DESERVE it."

"Buffy, look at me kitten, please."

She looked up at him.

"It's you, sweetheart. It's just you. You didn't DO anything, you were and
are just YOU."

"Spike?"

"Yes, kitten?"

"Would it be okay, do you think it would be pushing things if I stayed in
here tonight with you?"

"I'd like that," he said, smiling softly.

"I just . . . I just want you to hold me. And I want to hold you."

"God," he breathed and pulled her closer to him. "I don't think anyone's
ever wanted to do that before. Dru never. . ."

"I will, I will."


 

Chapter Seventeen

It was amazing to Buffy that Drusilla had never held Spike. Watching him as he slumbered the next morning, the way his arms fit loosely around her and he appeared so untroubled by his demons and fears; Buffy thought him an angel. He was so many things, she realized, that he did not know he was. Things he deserved to know to help him heal.

Reaching out gently she smoothed the unruly curls springing forth from his crown back and ran her fingers gently through his silky hair.

He nestled in closer to her and she smiled. There was still a little boy inside him that needed reassurance, gentle touches and simple kindness to show him that he was good and worthy of love. He'd beaten himself up for far too long and had made himself a victim to Drusilla's own craziness because of it. He'd gone above and beyond trying to purge himself of what he considered ‘sin' and impurity. She'd berated him and made him feel twisted; unworthy.
In a way, she almost did feel sorry for the woman. Someone could have hurt her once the same way; dragged her down and kept her there, made her feel unloved and worthless. And, in a way, Spike staying with her hadn't helped her. Or him. Especially since she knew whom his heart really belonged to. Sometimes trying to do the right thing led to more pain before the light at the end of the tunnel is revealed.

When did life become so complicated? A week ago she'd been simply excited about the prospect of Spike coming home. She remembered balking at love, thinking it a waste of time. Thinking that if all it did in the long run was hurt, why did one seek it out, run for it and grab onto it? Now she was in the beginning stages of a relationship with the man she'd considered to be her stepbrother for ten years. More than just a little daunting. But something she knew she wouldn't trade for anything.

In a way it kind of made sense that Spike would evolve into this for her. She'd put him on a pedestal for so long, she wanted to be part of his life—just part of HIM—it was a wonder it took her so long to figure it out. She supposed however, that it didn't matter how long it took her to figure it out, just that she had.

"What are you thinking about, pet?" Spike's groggy voice startled her from her thoughts.

She looked down at him, his blue eyes seeming bluer than she'd ever seen them. His face still had that peaceful look and she hoped that it was she that
brought him some measure of peace.

"I'm thinking –right this second—that I want you to look as peaceful as you do right this second for all day."

He smiled sleepily. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It suits you. No frown lines, no distant look in your eyes. Just peace. I think I'll have to find ways to make you feel like that – or at least look like that more often. Because, I'm thinking if you look like that, then just maybe one day you'll feel it."

He stared at her, awe washing over his features. "You do care."

She rolled her eyes. "I only said it like a hundred times."

He shook his head, "Sorry, you just – it just—"

"Overwhelms you? The way it overwhelms me?"

He nodded, his eyes clearing, "Yes," said ardently.

"How does it feel to be overwhelmed?"

"Knowing the source of it? Exhilarating. It's the best feeling I've had in a
long time."

She smiled. "Good. Then I've already started doing my job."

"Your job?"

"As your girlfriend."

He smiled, "I love you."

"I know."

He pulled her close and hugged her tight. "What would you like to do
today?"

"Don't care. Just want to spend it with you."

"I think that sounds perfect."

******************************************************************

The day was spent being lazy. After a leisurely breakfast and showers –separate showers—the couple finally made it outside in their backyard to the hammock Giles had set up there. Spike lay down first and held out his hand, bidding Buffy to join him. She did with a smile on her face and cuddled up next to him, her head resting under his chin. He kissed her forehead softly.

"Not ready to face the big bad world, are we pet?"

She looked up at him, startled. "So I'm not the only one?"

He grinned. "Not at all. Figure a lot of folks in this town know who we are. If they see us out and about acting like more than just . . . well, that might be something that could bite us in the ass later, yeah?"

"Especially since Mom and Giles don't know."

"I wager those are one of those hurdles you were talking about?"

"Yeah, all . . . both of them."

"We will get through it though, right pet?"

"Yes. Spike, you not having faith in us scares me."

"It's new to me still," he said softly. "It hasn't sunk in yet, Buffy. I thought
I would never have you and now you're here. With me. It throws me."

She leaned up and kissed him softly. "That help?"

His eyes still closed, he had a faint smile on his lips, "Definitely. Do it
again."

Kissing him slowly and sweetly, she felt him wrap her closer to him and
put his leg over hers possessively. This position allowed her to feel his
arousal. She tried to calm herself, her heart suddenly beating rapidly, the
blood in her veins racing.

He pulled back, "What is it?" he asked breathlessly. "Too much?"

"No," she quickly reassured him. "No, it's just that I can . . . I can feel
you," she finished shyly.

He started to move and she grabbed him, stopping him. "No, Spike. Don't
move."

"It's too soon. You think it's sick—"

"NO," she said emphatically and wrapped him back in her arms, purposely
grinding her center against him which warranted a hiss. "Not too soon
because of . . . that. I've just never . . . It stunned me. But I don't want to
stop. I'm not ready to go all the way yet Spike, but I'm ready for you to
start teaching me. I want you to touch me and I want to learn how to touch
you—"

He cut her off with a hard and demanding kiss. She moaned into it, letting
herself melt and letting him feel free to explore as well. She felt his hand at
her waist find its way under her shirt, just resting at the flesh of her waist.

"That ok?" he rasped, resting his forehead against hers.

She nodded and he kissed her again, sliding his hand slowly up her shirt
until he cupped her bra covered breast. She gasped in his mouth at the
sensation.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked. "No, it just. . . I never thought it would feel so
good. Am I supposed to break out in goosebumps?"

He chuckled lightly and gave her breast a little squeeze before brushing
his thumb across her nipple back and forth. He watched her intently,
gauging her reaction. She shuddered as her nipple instantly pebbled under
his touch. Curious, she reached under his shirt, gliding her hands up slowly,
letting her fingers trace over the hard muscles of his abs and chest. He was
well-defined. He watched her heatedly as she took her time feeling every
part of his torso and when she reached his own nipples, he gasped as well.
He bent his head and kissed her passionately and she stroked her thumbs
across them, wanting to feel them pebble as well. When they did, she felt
triumphant that she had been able to make it happen.

"Goose bumps?" she asked.

"God, yes," he said huskily. He started to pull her shirt up so that just her belly was exposed. "May I?" he asked.

She nodded, gulping.

"Won't do anything you don't want me to do, kitten. Anytime you want me to stop, you just say ‘stop' okay?"

She nodded her assent and soon, her shirt was off and she lay bare to his gaze. Well, bare except for the bra she still wore. Sliding the straps down ever so gently and slowly, Spike made sure to kiss and caress every inch of skin that was exposed. His lips left a hot, wet trail to the tops of her breasts and she felt her pussy clench with what she knew was next. She was sure if her nipples became any harder, they could cut glass.

He took his time covering every inch of one breast with his mouth as he massaged and stroked the other. He lifted his head and watched her, looking for signs of any discomfort as he peeled the bra slowly down her chest, baring her breasts. His gaze dropped and the look of awe and reverence on his face made her want to weep. What woman didn't want a man to look at her in such a way? If he looked at Drusilla in any way like that, how could the woman have tortured him so? She felt as if she'd given him a precious gift and in the recesses of her mind, she knew she had. The gift of her body. So many were careless in who they gave theirs too. Until that moment she hadn't given much thought to it herself. She simply hadn't had sex because she could barely stand any guy long enough to have a conversation with them, never mind allow them to enter her body. But this man . . . her Spike, he brought so much to the act of love making, and this was love making even if they hadn't gotten to actual intercourse yet. The feelings they felt while touching each other, basking in their newfound relationship – this was all making love.

"You're so gorgeous Buffy. Creamy and soft," he leaned in and took one pebbled nipple in his mouth and sucked, sending bolts of pleasure rocketing through her. Instinctively, she threaded her fingers through his hair, wanting to keep him doing what he was doing. "Taste so good," he murmured and swirled his tongue around the nub. His other hand idly stroked her nipple with the pad of his thumb, brushing it so lightly that she ached for more, wanting it harder somehow.

She closed her eyes as he suckled on her breast and when he released one, he went to work on the other. She held him to her, not even aware of her hips grinding her center against his.

Her orgasm took her by surprise. Though of the two, he was more surprised than she.

"Buffy, did you--?" he asked, his head popping up to look at her when her whole body shuddered and she sputtered his name.

She grew red, mortified, thinking there must be something wrong with her. She looked away from his reverent gaze.

Placing his hand under her chin, he made her look at him. "You had an orgasm," he stated.

She nodded shyly.

"Why are you upset by it?"

"Because I thought that . . . because you just touched my breasts and I went off like a rocket. Is that abnormal?"

He broke into a wide smile, "God no. It's wonderful Buffy, don't you see? My touching you did that . . . I did that. It means your body is in tune to mine, it means I drive you wild and make you feel so good… I made you feel good, didn't I?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, not at all. When I touch my boobs, I get off all the time—of COURSE you made me feel good. You're . . . You're really good at that."

He grinned and kissed her sweetly.

She pulled back just a smidge, "Should I--? Do you want me to uh, help you--?" She wanted to ease his situation and yet feared it. She wasn't sure she was ready to get ‘groiny' just yet.

He shook his head. "No, baby, you don't have to do that. When you're ready okay? Just knowing that I . . . That you . . . God, that was all I needed."
Feeling exposed, she pressed herself up against him, hissing when her hardened nubs rubbed against his t-shirt. His hands splayed against her back as he kissed her leisurely, slowly trailing kisses down to her neck. He nuzzled her neck and she shivered.

"More goosebumps?" he mused.

"Hmmmm," she replied.

"Ever hear Mom talk to her friends about the good old fashioned necking her and Dad used to do?" Spike asked against her neck, then licking her pulse point.

"Yeah. . . " she breathed.

"Let's see what all the fuss was about."




Chapter Eighteen

Spike watched Buffy putter around the kitchen, setting out their plates and cups while they waited for their pizza to arrive. He decided to participate in her preparation by lighting the candles on the table and dimming the lights.
She looked at him with a sweet, sappy smile on her face. She opened her mouth to tell him something when there was a knock on the front door. She scrunched her eyebrows together, clearly confused. "That can't be the food."

He glanced up at the clock, "No, can't be. I called just five minutes ago."
Looking at each other they said at the same time, "Doyle."

"I'll get it," Buffy told Spike, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before
heading toward the door.

Spike smiled, his cheek tingling from just a simple kiss. His smile turned
into a frown however when he realized the voice he heard talking with
Buffy was not Doyle. In fact, it sounded very much like the wanker she'd
been talking to two nights ago. Jealously raged through him and he made
his way determinedly into the foyer.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that Ri, I hadn't checked my messages this
morning," Buffy was saying.

"That's okay, Buffy. I just figured I'd stop by to find out—" The oaf stopped
talking as Spike made his way up behind Buffy and wrapped his arm
possessively around her waist.

"Who's this kitten?" he asked, sizing up the tall man looming in the
doorway.

"Oh, Spike this is Riley, Riley this is Spike."

"Oh, I'm sorry Buffy, I didn't realize you had company," Riley apologized,
turning red. "Uh, call me tomorrow or something if you get a chance."

"Excuse me?" Spike growled. The git had the nerve to STILL make a play
for his girl even when it was obvious she was taken?

Buffy hit him in the ribs with her elbow lightly, a silent signal for him to not
make a scene.

"Okay Ri, will do. Bye!" and she shut the door, leaning her back against it
and looking up at Spike.

He lunged at her, placing his hands on either side of her head and eliciting a
gasp of surprise from her. Spike growled, "Who is that? What does he want
with you?"

She blinked, "Are you—you're jealous!"

"Yes, you're bloody right, I am. I'll rip his head off and shove it up his arse
if he comes near you again. And as for you, I'll lock you up all Rapunzel like
if you—"

She cut him off by wrapping her arms around him instead and kissing him
sweetly. "We really need to work on your gaydar, honey," she told him
after.

He paused and then straightened. "You mean--?"

"Yes, honey. Riley is gay. He's in one of my classes and he asked me for
some help since he knows I get all A's. He's got a crush on Doyle. Though
Doyle's got a crush on your friend Xander."

"Riley's gay?"

She nodded.

"He's got a crush on Doyle?"

She nodded again.

"So he's not hitting on you?"

Buffy shook her head.

"Oh."

"You're cute when you're jealous though," she smiled up at him. "It's
actually kind of hot."

He grinned, "Is it now?"

"Well, makes me feel like I'm worth getting jealous about."

"You are. Buffy, when you started having an interest in boy's way back when, I wanted to take them all out. Didn't want them near you. Why do
you think I flipped that day I came in and Doyle was on top of you?"

Her eyes widened. "Doyle said the same thing! He told me you were
jealous. I thought he was crazy."

Spike smiled, "Now you know."

"Wow. Am I that oblivious?"

He shook his head, "I kept things from you, put you at a distance. How
were you to know? I didn't want you to know. From the minute you ran out
to meet me when I came home, I knew I was in trouble. Thought you were
the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I'd missed you so much . . . and then
you ran into my arms like you'd missed me just as much . . . " he shook his
head in wonder.

"I did miss you. Tons. I didn't think you missed me."

He brushed some hair from her face, "I did. So much."

Her eyes filled with something heavy, something he could see she wasn't
ready to give voice to. Love. He could see it in her eyes, and he guessed
that perhaps she knew he could read it there because she buried her face in
his chest, a shiver rippling through her.

He held onto her, finding for the first time some comfort and peace in his
love for her. She felt the same, he knew it; he felt it. At that moment, he felt
as if they could weather any storm threw at them. He knew the big hurdle
would be in telling their parents, but he felt stronger in the knowledge that
she was right there with him, lending him strength.

He felt weak compared to her. It was amazing to him how brave she was.
She'd always been such a tomboy –even when she had started becoming
interested in boys. She preferred the ones that would play baseball with
her, or engage in burping contests with her. She liked a challenge. She was
never one to put her heart out there for just anyone; they had to be
deserving her eyes. Not many gained her loyalty and love. Doyle, her gay
best friend, had. Spike was pretty sure, though she never said and maybe
didn't know that he was a buffer for her. With Doyle there, there was no
pressure from the opposite sex. Doyle presented no threat to her; he had
no interest in her sexually. In this way, she could protect herself from
getting hurt.

He had made it through though. That spoke volumes to him; that told him
that it was meant to be. And God knew he needed such signs to quiet his
mind. He had penetrated the walls of Buffy Summers. He was the one she
was putting her heart on the line for. He was the one she wanted to be with
– even before she knew how he felt. She had been the one pursuing the
truth of his feelings. She was fighting for him, for them and it humbled him.
She made him strong. Made him feel he wasn't wrong, made him feel that
what they had was something worth fighting for. She made him feel that
they were right and that the world was wrong. He wanted to hold onto that.
He was afraid if he didn't, he'd be sunk back into the desolate world he'd
been living in thinking he was a twisted perv for loving Buffy the way he
did. In that world, he didn't have her love and her love was the greatest
thing he'd ever known. So he had to cling to her, had to put his faith in them
as much as she had. And as long as she was by his side, he was sure he
could it.

He hoped.

*******************************************************************
Halfway through the movie they'd chosen to watch, Spike realized that Buffy was no longer paying much attention to it. Her gaze kept drifting to his as he held her in the safety of his arms. He looked down at her curiously.

Her gaze skittered away and he bit back a smile. When she was ready, she'd tell him. Of that he had no doubt. She pulled out of his arms a minute later and stared at him.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Earlier."

"On the hammock?"

She nodded.

His jeans suddenly got tight at the mention of their time outside. How her
body felt under his touch, how she responded to him, how she tasted.
"What about it?" he asked cautiously.

"I've never seen a penis up close before," she told him bluntly.

His jaw dropped to the ground. "What?"

"I've never seen—"

"Yeah, I heard you, I just – Buffy, what are you trying to do to me here?"

She knit her brows together. "What do you mean?"

"When you talk about those things with me—Buffy, God, you really don't
have any idea how much I want you do you?"

She blushed profusely and bit her bottom lip. Then she met his eyes. "I
want to touch it."

He was going to have a heart attack. "What?" he managed to nearly
squeak out.

Seeming to gather her courage about her, she reached out and placed her
hand over the now prominent bulge in his pants. She looked up at him, "I
want to touch it," she said again.

"Buffy," he groaned.

Her fingers drifted over his zipper, "Can I?"

"Buffy, you don't have to—"

"I know. I want to. I'm curious."

"Buffy, you're not ready—"

"If I say I want to touch it, then I'm ready. Trust me."

He stared at her, at the determined look on her face.

"Are YOU ready?" she asked, starting to take her hand back. He grabbed
it and placed it over his cock.

"I'm ready," he said hoarsely. "With whatever you feel comfortable giving
me."

She smiled broadly and leaned up to kiss him. He kissed her deeply, letting
her feel the depth of his fathomless emotions for her.

She pulled back and kneeled before him, setting to the task of
unbuttoning his jeans. His breath hitched and held, his fantasies coming to
life. All of them were coming to life and he felt so unworthy. His angel trusted him, wanted him and felt the need to please him. It was overwhelming and the greatest gift he'd ever known.

It seemed an eternity for her to unzip him.

"Buffy—" he started and then his cock sprang free. She reared back just a
little bit, gasping. "I go commando," he finished.

She stared at his cock, her head tilted to the side. He grew harder. And
when a bead of precum oozed from the slit on top, she leaned forward and
delicately swiped at it with her soft tongue.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, his head dropping back.

"Was that—"

"Fucking brilliant," he choked out. He looked down at her and found her
watching him curiously.

"What do I do?"

"T-touch me."

She fisted her hand around his cock. "Like this?"

He nodded, unable to form words at the feel of her hot little hands on his
cock. He was going to die right there and it was going to be because of her.

"Stroke it Buffy," he managed to choke out.

She unknowingly squeezed just a fraction harder and glided her fist up his
shaft, and then down, slowly. More precum oozed and when she glided back
up she swirled her thumb around it, coating the head, watching in
fascination. Then she leaned in and covered just the head of his cock with
her mouth and sucked hard.

He went cross eyed and fought the urge to surge his hips forward and bury
more of himself in her sweet mouth.

She leaned back and looked up at him, gauging his reaction as she stroked
his shaft. After three strokes she leaned in and covered the head again,
sucked, and proceeded to engulf more in her mouth.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy," he babbled, his head lolling. She was driving him out
of his mind. Her curiosity combined with her inexperience but her
willingness to experiment was driving him round the bend.

"F-faster Buffy, please," he begged. She jerked him faster, harder.

"Buffy, fuck, I'm going to… I'm going to . . . "

"Cum?"

"Yes, baby, move before I—"

"I want to taste more," she whispered and that was it.

Just as her mouth closed round him, he spurted off in her mouth, coming
harder than he ever had before. He was panting, his heart was racing and
he felt as if he were gliding to heaven.

When he was able to think clearly, he reached down and hauled her up to
him so that she straddled his lap, his semi hard cock just resting between
her ass cheeks.

He devoured her lips, tasting himself. He pulled back to allow her to
breathe and stared at her, feeling himself in awe of her.

"Buffy . . . " he whispered. "That was . . . amazing."

"Really? I didn't really know what I was doing. I just went by what you
seemed to like."

He shook his head and held her close, burying his face in his neck.
"Anything you give me is more than I deserve."

"Not true," she told him firmly. "You deserve it. It's my love to give and I
choose you. Only you."

 

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