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The mewl only broadened Spike’s grin as he spilled another drop of wine onto her stomach. “Thought you figured out I prefer you warm an’ wiggling, love,” he practically purred, his tongue indulging in a long lap of her succulent skin. She was delicious—warm and delicious and oh so his, and he felt it with every caress. His flesh hummed every time he touched her. His fangs itched. His blood sparked. He didn’t know what it was, only it was wonderful and he wanted it for always—he never wanted to not feel like this again.
“I do not wiggle,” Buffy protested, her bum squirming under his wandering mouth.
Spike chuckled in amusement. “’S that right?” he whispered, peppering kisses across her taut belly. “This isn’ wigglin’?”
“No. I’m…ahhh…” She moaned and lifted her hips in offering as his tongue wandered over her mound. “I’m…strata…strategizing…”
“Mmhmm…”
“Cocky bastard.”
He smirked, spilling another stream of wine onto her skin and watching hungrily as it rolled over her pelvis and drenched her quim. “Gotta say, you give me a lot to be cocky about.”
“Ass.”
“Mmm.” He dipped quickly between her legs and playfully bit at the ass in question. “Yeah, that’s right tasty, too.”
Buffy squealed. Loudly. She would have completely leaped off the bed had his hands not braced her. “Spike!”
He blinked, all innocence. “What?”
“You bit me!”
Spike arched a brow and waved. “Errr, vampire.”
“That was my ass!”
“An’ it happens to be very biteable,” he replied reasonably. “Should I show you again?”
“Spike!”
Another long chuckle echoed through his chest. He parted her pussy lips, pouring a waterfall of wine over her pink flesh with a groan. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, burying his face in her and inhaling. “Such a sweet li’l quim.”
Her hips rolled upward. “Ohhh…”
“You always been like this, baby?” he asked, running his fingers over her plump, hairless mound.
“Since I started slaying,” she confessed. “At first…’cause…short skirts…and then…”
Spike trembled, took a swig of wine, then placed the bottle on the floor. “An’ then?” he coaxed softly, eying the half-empty container of chocolate sauce. He’d already used a good quantity on her breasts…for his first taste of her quim, though, the wine would do nicely. Anything more would only rob her of her innate richness.
“And then…I…I got…used to it.”
The thought of her patrolling in those criminally short skirts and a pair of sinfully seductive knickers had him dangerously close to spilling himself like a virgin fledgling. He wasn’t worried, though, considering he’d made her scream herself hoarse. In every way except this. In every way save for tasting her, and certainly not for lack of trying. Every time he tried to dip between her legs, she’d eluded him by taking his cock into her hand or mouth and distracting him so well, he didn’t remember what it was he wanted until it was time for her to distract him again.
Spike, however, was parched for her pussy, and damn if she kept it from him. He decided to divert her in turn. His method was simple: make her come blind and then do whatever the hell he wanted until she recuperated.
And fuck, if it wasn’t fun trying to wear her out. Spike had always known they’d be brilliant together; he just hadn’t known how brilliant.
There was nothing in this world that could have prepared him for this.
Prepared him for Buffy.
“Spike,” she gasped, arching her hips. “You don’t…you don’t have to…”
“No, I really do,” he replied, sucking her labia between his lips.
Her head flew back to the pillow, an inhuman cry of pleasure pealing through the air. “Ohmigod!”
He winked and nibbled, taking one of her perfect breasts into his right hand as his other joined his mouth, exploring her clit with delicate intensity. “You’re a slow drink of whisky, you are,” he growled, leaving her labia with a parting lick as his tongue ventured to her opening. “So bloody rich.”
“Am…not…”
“Don’ think you’re in a position to judge, pet.”
Buffy whimpered, her hips crashing upward with a need she likely didn’t recognize. It amazed him that a creature as innately sensual as his Slayer would remain so ignorant as to her own allure. She blinked in wonder every time he whispered how beautiful she was or how good she felt. Her taste had him drunk, but she didn’t know why. She looked at him with eyes like saucers and asked him how he could tell her such things. How he could tell her what was, to him, wholly the truth.
Though it broke his heart that no one had abolished these fears long before he stepped in, a very real part of him was incredibly grateful to be the first. It meant he was the only man to truly know what he had. To know exactly how wonderful she was.
“You taste so good,” Spike whispered, his tongue dipping inside her. “Could eat you for hours.”
“Unh…”
“I mean it, kitten…this quim—”
“Spike—”
He grinned. “You love this, don’ you?”
He thought she would fight him or play dumb; she didn’t. Buffy nodded hard and thrust upward, her eyes wild. “Yes,” she agreed. “More.”
“More?”
“Inside. Tongue. Please.”
Her clipped tone only furthered the intensity of his onslaught. He plunged his tongue inside her sweet hole, licking her inner pussy walls and eagerly swallowing mouthfuls of Buffy-concentrate. His thumb occupied itself with her clit, massaging her tenderly and pressing down every time she thrust against him. Every time she pushed herself harder against his mouth.
“Oh…Spike…”
Hearing his name whimpered in her breathy, sex-hoarse voice had every inch of him hardening with lust. Spike growled into her flesh and drove his straining cock against the mattress. “Never gonna get tired of that,” he whispered.
Buffy blinked dazedly. “Tired…what?”
He grinned and nipped at her. “Hearing you moan for me.”
“I don’t moan.”
Spike arched a brow, indulging in a long lick of her pussy before answering. “Sweetheart…when you said that, you moaned.”
She gulped and curved upward again. “Less talky, more tasty.”
“I see I made a believer of you,” he observed, grinning.
“Wha…?”
“You din’t think I’d like this, did you?” His fingers abandoned her clit and dipped southward until he was prying her apart, sinking eagerly into her wet flesh as his lips tended to the swollen, needy little button aching for his touch. “Din’t think I’d enjoy lickin’ you from head to toe.”
He capped the sentence with a tap of his tongue against her clit.
An inhuman gasp clawed at her throat. “Oh!” she cried. “Again. More. More of that.”
“More of what?” he replied innocently.
“You know damn well what!” She fisted a handful of his hair and shoved his face against herself so importunately he would have collapsed with laughter were he not so turned on. Buffy by herself was a force with which to be reckoned; a Buffy who took what she wanted was nothing short of a sex goddess. “My…my…your mouth…there.”
He kissed her clit, evading a jerky thrust with a chuckle. “Where?”
Buffy glowered down at him. Well, she tried. She was panting hard, and the effect was lost with the rise and fall of her sweat-laced breasts. He couldn’t resist favoring one perky nipple with a pinch, and again when he earned another moan.
“I mean it, love. Gotta tell me where.”
The scowl deepened. “I didn’t…make you…tell me where.”
“Well, that’s because tellin’ you I want my dick sucked din’t make me blush like a virgin.”
“That’s because…ooohhh…you’re a…vulgar, bad…” She jerked upward again. “Bad…man.”
“I want you to tell me.”
“I want you to bite me.”
She didn’t mean in the fun way, though for the breathy note on which the words rode out, it didn’t matter.
“Not the sort’ve jibe you wanna aim at a bloke with fangs.”
“Spike! Just…do it.”
Soft chuckles met every needy thrust of her hips. “Do what?”
The glare she shot his way was feisty and serious, and all it did was further his lust. It fell, however, incredibly short of her words. Words she all but growled. Words accentuated with a tug of his head with one hand and soft caress of her pussy with the other.
Words he’d never expected to hear her say.
“Eat me.”
Spike stared blankly at her for a long moment, then moaned and fell forward, pulling her clit between his teeth and sucking hard. He lapped. He pulled. He fucked her with his tongue, worried her with his lips and shook his head to make her vibrate. He devoured her, his fingers pumping steadily in and out of her pussy, hungry eyes absorbing the way her body moved. The way she gyrated. The way she pushed herself against his mouth. Every whimper made his bones vibrate. She was a song he wanted to memorize; only the words kept changing. With Buffy, they always did.
“SPIKE!”
Growls fought through his throat. “Love this clit,” he whispered before drawing her into his mouth again.
“Ohmi…”
“Mmm…”
“So good. So…oh God.”
His fingers slipped out of her just long enough to take her clit again. She was close. He felt how close she was, and he wanted his tongue inside her when she came. Therefore he dove into her quim again without ceremony, slurping her up. He licked every inch he could reach, and she consumed him. She drenched him. She drew him in and still left him wanting more. And when she finally triggered, trembling and coming hard, there was nothing left of him to take.
No. Buffy had claimed every bit.
It seemed hours passed before she moved, which was fine with him. The night had only truly opened. Had only now given him insight into what the future held. No matter her assurances—no matter how much he felt she loved him—a part of him had admittedly expected to walk away from this forever changed…but without Buffy. A dream, perhaps, or at least a night to replace the one which had long stood as the best of his life. But alone. Perpetually alone. He’d never been anything but.
Until now.
Buffy was with him. Her warm, sated body lay under his. His cheek was pillowed against her belly, her skin scented with sweat and wine and the aroma that was solely hers. Her fingers ran lovingly through his hair. She was with him now; she really was.
He knew then. He knew what he truly couldn’t have known before.
This wasn’t over. It was only beginning.
Buffy had been more vulnerable with him than he thought possible; even allowing him to do what he’d just done took trust. While eating her pussy ostensibly served the sole purpose of providing her pleasure, it implied, on a larger level, something he wasn’t sure she even recognized. Something he could barely grasp. The fact that his fangs had been against her most precious spot—that she’d allowed him access to her femininity—spoke for all the things remaining unsaid between them. The line boundary they’d crossed together could not be denied: with him, just now, Buffy had forever shoved the Slayer out of their relationship.
With him, Buffy was a woman. A woman with the man she loved. Nothing more or less. Just Buffy.
Just Buffy.
“You really do, don’t you?”
Buffy paused. “I really do what?”
Spike inhaled sharply, lifting his head and resting his chin against her. “Love me.”
There was no hesitation, even if the words weren’t immediate. Instead, he watched as warmth and adoration swarmed her eyes. As a tender smile tickled her gorgeous mouth. No words were needed.
No words were needed, but he wanted them anyway.
“I love you, Spike.”
Then she coaxed him up her body so she could reach his mouth, and as he melted into her kiss, the weight which had burdened his heart for what felt like centuries finally dissolved.
Buffy loved him. She really loved him. After being alone so long, he was finally found.
“I love you,” she whispered again. “I’m sorry it took so long, Spike. I’m so sorry.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Shhh…”
“I’ve been dumb.”
“’S all right.”
“Don’t doubt me? Please?”
Spike smiled softly and took her face between his hands and kissed her soundly. “I don’t doubt you, love. I never have. It’s me. Yeah?”
“Well, don’t you doubt, either.”
“I love you.”
Tears swelled in her eyes. “Oh, Spike…”
“What? Like you’ve never heard that before.”
She made a face and thwacked his arm. “It’s different now and you know it.”
He grinned but didn’t reply; there was nothing to say. He did know it. He really did. He had Buffy’s love. Buffy was his.
The world was brand new.
Still, Buffy had been apprehensive about Christmas. It was her first as head of the family, and she wanted to make it good for Dawn. A calm, traditional, quiet Christmas.
She wanted to make it good for herself, too.
This didn’t stop her from squealing at the top of her lungs, tossing off the covers, and racing downstairs the moment Spike let it slip he’d left her a present under the tree.
Patience, thy name is not Buffy.
Mindless of her nudity, she collapsed to her knees before the Christmas tree, clapping giddily and searching through the sloppily-wrapped boxes to find the aforementioned red package.
“Here’s somethin’ I never thought I’d see.”
Buffy glanced up, meeting Spike’s dark, amused eyes. He looked particularly nummy, cross-armed and leaning in the entryway. “You’re naked,” she said.
“Not one to point fingers, love, but…”
“Yes, well, I have a prezzie.” She rocked eagerly on her legs, blushing when his eyes followed the bounce of her breasts. For someone who had so little to bounce, she seemed to do an admirable job of keeping Spike’s attention. “What’s your excuse?”
The bouncing had him occupied. “Hmmm?”
“For the naked?”
He glanced up lazily. “My excuse?”
“Yes.”
“You’re naked. ‘S criminal for me not to not be naked, too.” He watched her a minute longer, the persistent grin on his face broadening when she squealed again after locating the present. “Christ, you’re adorable.”
Buffy perked a brow, picking at the wrapping. “Adorable?”
“Mhmmm.” Spike’s eyes roamed lower, following the curve of her stomach. “An’ edible.”
The reminder only deepened her blush. Never had she envisioned any man being so—err—receptive to her girly parts. While she certainly was no novice to cunnilingus, she’d always received it as a sort of thank-you for blowjobs. Once from Parker, and a handful of times from Riley. Never enthusiastically. Never with the outcome of a not-faked orgasm.
Never with someone who loved her as Spike loved her.
Granted, she supposed it was only fair. Her efforts at giving oral sex had been, pre-Spike, craptastic at best. Always laced with fear and feelings of supreme inadequacy. Always coupled with the knowledge there was no way she was going to be any good, but she should try because that was what good girlfriends did.
With Spike, though, it wasn’t obligation. It was desire. Something she knew she wanted to do because she loved him—because she wanted his eyes to go wide as his chest heaved with air he didn’t need. She wanted to unmake him because realizing her love for him had completely unmade her.
Perhaps it was the same realization which made him like to explore her girly parts. Riley had never battled her for the right to lick her clit; if she said he didn’t need to touch her, he didn’t. The end.
Spike was different. Spike objected and overruled her. Spike wanted to taste her, and taste her he did. He’d told her he would before she even took his cock into her mouth, and while she’d wanted it, while the words had made her ache like nothing before, a part of her had resisted.
Not now. They were completely open together. She was in her living room, naked, because it felt right. Never before had she just wandered around naked with her boyfriends.
Spike changed everything, and she loved it.
“Buffy?”
She blinked and glanced up. While thinking, her eyes had apparently landed on his cock, which now stood proudly at attention. “Mmm?”
“You’re staring again.”
She fidgeted. “Well…so are you.”
Spike grinned. “Better hurry now, pet, unless you want me to shag you under the tree.”
Ignoring him, she pointed to his erection. “Doesn’t that thing have an off-switch?”
He arched a brow and took himself into his hand, long fingers running a tantalizing lap up his length. “Around you?”
She squirmed slightly and turned her attention back to her present. “Now you’re just trying to distract me.”
“You’re the one who was starin’ at my bits.”
“I was not staring!”
“Buffy…”
“I wasn’t! I was…thinking…and that’s where my eyes naturally fell.”
He chuckled richly and pushed himself off the entryway, finding a seat beside her on the floor. “Tell yourself whatever you like, Slayer. I know the better of it.” Spike leaned in and mischievously sucked her earlobe between his teeth. “You want me.”
She rolled her eyes, not even convincing herself. “Whatev.”
“It’s all right to want me.”
“You are so full of it.”
He took her hand and placed it on his cock, which ended up costing him the advantage, as there was nothing to do then but give him exactly what he wanted. “You wish you were…ahhh…”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Buffy replied, sticking up her nose in mock-superiority and squeezing him again. “Now let me open my prezzie so you can get back to making me bed-ridden.”
“Bed-ridden?”
“Inability-to-walk-due-to-Spike-lovin’. That kinda bed-ridden.” She withdrew her hand but placated his moan by offering him a soft kiss.
“I love you,” he whispered when their lips parted, swallowing her with his eyes.
“I love you, too.” Buffy smiled and offered him another kiss. Then, without further delay, she returned to her present, ripping the red-wrapping to shreds.
“Patience is a virtue,” Spike murmured playfully, nipping at her ear again.
“I must have missed that day in school.” She didn’t even give herself time to oooh and ahhh appropriately at the unmistakably jewelry-shaped box. It was impossible to go slow with her heart thundering and the shrieky-girly bells in her head going off prematurely. She didn’t even pause to consider how she knew it would be something sweet and melt-worthy and oh so romantic. She just knew.
It was Spike. He was a softie. Beneath the hard—erm, extremely hard—shell of the Big Bad, he was very quixotic. Passionate. Loving. And he seized every opportunity to show her just how much.
In small gestures. Gestures that meant the world.
I couldn't live, her being in that much pain. I’d let Glory kill me first. Nearly bloody did.
I know you’ll never love me; I know that I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man.
Are you all right?
And now this. With Spike at her side, teasing her ear with soft little lovebites. With the bond between them and the future at their feet. Seated naked on her living room floor with the man she loved more than she’d known she could love, his present to her in her lap.
“Don’ let anyone tell you that you kill suspense,” Spike said, his voice oddly high and slightly strung. Like he was nervous. It occurred to her a second later, though, that she’d again faded off and had yet to open the box. Not like she could help it; he gave a girl a lot to think about.
Like everything.
“I know. Big overture.” She grinned. “I’m wrapping-paper’s worst nightmare.”
“Yeah, an’ then you sit and stare at it for six weeks while the rest of us age.”
“Okay, there were about ten things wrong with that sentence.”
Spike fidgeted. “I only counted two, but okay.”
“It’s been thirty seconds at best.”
“That’s one…”
“And you don’t age.”
“That’d be two.” He nudged her impatiently. “Open it, or I’ll open it for you.”
A dramatic, mock-gasp fluttered off her lips; she clutched the package to her breast. “And spoil my surprise? I don’t think so, Fang-Face. It’s mine.” She smiled brightly, kissed him again, then popped the lid open without further delay.
The air between them grew thick. Words filled her, yet she said nothing. There was nothing she could say. Her jaw fell slack, her heart thundered, and though she tried to look away, no force on the planet could move her eyes.
“I know it’s overdone,” Spike said quickly. “I know…it doesn’t seem…but I thought…I din’t know. A ring felt too…an’ a necklace? I wanted to give you somethin’ you’d like. But I din’t know where we were. I knew where I wanted to be, but—”
Buffy slipped the bracelet over her wrist and twisted around, catching him in the tightest hug she could manage without worrying about breaking something valuable. “It’s wonderful,” she whispered, sighing happily when he wrapped her in his arms. “It’s gorgeous. Spike…is it…”
“Real? Absolutely. I don’ buy knock-offs for my girl.”
“But…”
“No buts. ‘Cept maybe yours, which I maintain is entirely biteable.” He concluded with a teasing pinch to her derriere. “If I’m gonna be a traditionalist, I’m gonna do it proper. My Slayer gets real diamonds. No bloody exception.”
Buffy pulled back to properly maul his lips, sucking his tongue greedily into her mouth. The emotion-thing was something which required attention, as her ability to properly express her thoughts had abandoned her years ago. There was so much she wanted to say, though; so much she wanted to convey. So much he needed to know. And until she learned how to play the part of wordsmith, she would have to rely on other forms of communication.
Every inch of her vibrated.
“Thank you,” she whispered, reassuming her bear-hug when her lousy need for oxygen forced their lips apart again. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Nothin’ less than what you deserve.”
“That’s debatable.”
“No, it’s not,” Spike murmured into her hair. “’ve never felt anything like this before. Not once in all my life. You understand? An’ since we…I feel everything you do. I feel your…your…your every…an’ it’s amazing.”
“Mmm. I’ll say.”
“I mean it. I’ve never…every time you breathe, I feel it.”
She smiled and kissed his shoulder. “You too…anyone ever tell you that for a vamp, you breathe a lot?”
“Matter of fact…wait.” He paused and pulled back, his eyes widening comically. “No…I…I really haven’t felt anything like this before.”
Buffy frowned. “Me either. I thought that was the point?”
Whatever bend he’d taken, she clearly hadn’t followed. His expression went from confused, to contemplative, then alarmed. It happened so quickly she barely had time to blink; the next thing she knew, he’d inhaled deeply and pulled himself to his feet, shaking hard with some unforeseen realization. “Oh bollocks.”
“Spike?”
“’m such a dolt.”
Alarm shot through her veins. “What?” she demanded, doing her best to keep calm. “Don’t you dare ruin tonight by scaring me.”
“I jus’—”
“Well?”
“Upstairs…when we…” He met her eyes, heavy, then turned away and shook his head, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I din’t even…I didn’t know what I was doing, sweetheart. You took it all from me. Every bit of it. I wanted you, an’ I…I lost it. I made you…”
Buffy bade herself not to panic. His words, out of context, could be taken very much the wrong way. But he wasn’t saying what it sounded like he was saying; of that much, she was certain. No one could fake love, especially Spike. “What are you talking about?”
When he met her eyes again, they were weighted with contrition. “I…I think I claimed you.”
A pause. “You what me?”
“Claimed. Upstairs. I din’t…when I bit you, an’ I said you were mine. I think that’s a claim. Old vampire stuff. But it’s—”
“That’s what you’re wigging about?”
He sighed in exasperation. “You don’ understand. I—”
“Oh no. I understand. I understand a lot.” Buffy climbed at last to her feet. “Claims are…what? Like the vampire equivalent of matrimony? You married me upstairs.”
Spike frowned defensively. “’S a lot more complicated than that.”
“It takes a bite and an exchange of two monosyllabic words. Not too complicated, from where I’m standing.”
“Buffy—”
She perked a brow. “Is claiming me a bad thing?”
His reaction was the right one: complete stricken. “What? Are you off your bird? Sweetheart, bein’ claimed with you’s the best thing…but I don’…you don’t understand. You can’t understand. Not what it means.”
“Why?” Buffy demanded indignantly, crossing her arms. “Am I in any way learning impaired?”
“No. But—”
“Spike, I got it. I know what it means. I actually kinda figured we’d do it eventually.” She shrugged. “Maybe not, you know, tonight, but I’d definitely considered this. I mean, even before I knew I loved you, I knew I was done. I knew you were the one I wanted to spend my life with. And if my life should have a few extra years, so be it.”
“A few extra…”
A soft smile commanded her face and she stepped forward, taking his cheeks in her hands. “You love me, right?”
“Of course I do. Buffy—”
“I’ve known about claims a long time, Spike.”
There was a pause, then a numb nod. “How?” he asked hoarsely. “I…din’t think mating rituals of the undead were anythin’ Rupes would have you—”
“He didn’t.” Buffy wet her lips self-consciously. He wasn’t going to like her answer in the slightest, but it was the truth, and she was determined not to withhold it. “You’re not my first…vampire boyfriend.”
The reaction was as expected. Spike’s blue eyes burned yellow and for a second, it looked as though his demon was about to come out swinging. “That wanker actually tried—”
“No. Let’s be perfectly clear. He did not try—”
“I’ll rip his throat out.”
“Spike—”
“You’re mine, Buffy. Mine. You understand?”
She nodded quickly, swallowing his lips in a quick kiss before his temper flew completely out of control. “Completely and undeniably yours,” she agreed. “And once we do the claim all proper like, we’ll make it so you’re mine, too.”
“Buffy…”
“But Ang…” She eeped when his eyes again darkened dangerously and quickly amended, “the A-word…he didn’t bring it up. He didn’t even…suggest it. I was wondering about ways that we could stay to together…ways that didn’t involve turning Buffy all fangy. He told me…reluctantly…but said he’d never do it ‘cause I didn’t know what it meant and all that jazz.” Buffy rolled her eyes and batted a dismissive hand. “What the hell did he know?
“Ahhh…”
“I did know what it meant. And if I didn’t then, I sure as hell do now. I’ve been thinking about it for a long, long time. And yeah…it wasn’t always with you…” She kissed him again before he could protest. “…you’re the one I was meant to do the claimy thing with. I don’t even know when it happened…when your image just kinda…took over Angel’s in my little fantasy world of forever. But it did. Sometime like…last year, even.”
The foray of emotions in his eyes began to fade, and suddenly there was nothing but the awe she knew and loved so much. There was no accounting for her balance when Spike looked at her like she was crafted by the gods. “Really?” he asked softly; needing, imploring for reassurance. Breaking her apart for how lost he looked. For how much of himself burned beneath the surface. It would take centuries to undo the hurt inflicted in his past, and it was a challenge only she could conquer.
“I told you…my feelings changed a long time ago. I just didn’t…I didn’t know it until tonight.”
There was nothing for a long minute. Nothing but the endless abyss of his ocean-like eyes. Nothing but the hard breaths crashing against her lips. Nothing but the tremors seizing his body. Nothing but raw disbelief. And then slowly, the clouds parted and she saw hope. Hope…then euphoria so blinding she would have fallen had they not been holding each other.
“This is real,” he said.
“Oh yeah. Very real.”
“Buffy…”
The front door crashed open without ceremony, effectively shattering their moment. And in the two seconds it took to remember she was naked, Spike had possessively shoved her behind him, aiming a growl at the sudden crowd of intruders.
Very noisy, unwelcome intruders.
“If I know anything about vampire stamina,” Anya was saying loudly, “they’re still at it. I tell you, we’re interrupting invaluable happy time.”
Willow, however, had already seen them. So had Tara.
“Eeep!” the redhead cried, shielding her eyes. “Ummm…hi guys.”
Spike scowled and pushed Buffy further behind him, totally mindless of his own nudity.
“Oh, there they are,” Anya said conversationally, offering a wave and a bright smile. “Greetings, sexually satisfied friends!”
Xander was the last to walk through the door. When he saw Spike, he tripped and slapped a hand across his face. “Ahh! I’m blinded by the whiteness!”
It took a few seconds, but eventually, the staunch possessiveness of Spike’s stance faded into something more grounded: something resembling stark awareness. And it wasn’t until he began babbling that Buffy realized she hadn’t told him her friends already knew pretty much everything. There was, therefore, no saving him from his assurance that this wasn’t what it looked like and there was a perfectly rational explanation. Nor could she save him from the narrowed glances and amused smirks inevitably aimed his way.
Well, she could have had she not been occupied stifling giggles into his back.
Spike tossed her a careless glance. “Not helpin’, love.”
“I’m sorry; I can’t think of any explanations that involve us naked in our living room.”
Anya raised her hand eagerly. “I can! I can!”
Willow seized the former demon’s wrist and forced it down again, flashing an apologetic smile. “It’s okay, Spike,” she said, doing her best to sound normal. “We know.”
A pause. “You know?”
The redhead nodded.
Spike tossed Buffy another glance. “They know?” he repeated.
“We know,” the group verified in unison.
“Though I could have done without the visual,” Xander added, and then mimed puking into his hands.
“Willow and I helped Buffy plan your night of sex,” Anya announced loudly.
“Plan?” Spike echoed. “You…” He twisted again, likely giving the group a nice visual of at least one ass-cheek. “You discussed this with your mates?”
For as casual as he was, Buffy couldn’t be as nonchalant about the fact that her friends were two steps to the right away from seeing her in the full buff. As much as she figured she would laugh about this in about a gazillion years, for the moment, she wanted something around her. Something preferably in the shape of clothing. “Spike, sweetie,” she said, plastering on a fake smile, “maybe we should discuss this when you and I are less…indisposed.”
“You are very naked,” Tara added, then flushed and aimed her eyes downward. “I just…I can’t be the only one to have noticed that…”
“Yeah,” Spike agreed, “an’ I’m in a room with two birds who like other birds, a demon who dreams in pornography, an’ a bloke who’s either very gay or havin’ size issues.”
Xander shrieked, averting his eyes again.
“So unless—”
“Dawn’s on her way up the drive,” Tara said quickly.
That did the trick. Spike yelped and grabbed the nearest throw-pillow off the sofa and covered himself with only seconds to spare before the youngest Summers made her entry.
“Hey guys, sorry, I—eeeaaaahhhooowww, why are there naked people in the living room?!”
Buffy moaned in defeat and buried her face in Spike’s back. “Hey Dawn.”
“Oh my God,” the girl cried, “I am so going into therapy for this.”
“We were just dropping by,” Willow promised miserably. “It…it didn’t seem like such a horrendously bad idea at the time. We wanted to see how it was going.”
“I explained it was ridiculous,” Anya said. “Combine vampire stamina with slayer stamina, and—”
Tara squeaked and quickly made to cover Dawn’s ears, though it was wholly unnecessary. Dawn’s eyes were practically sewn shut and she’d glued her hands to her ears the second she saw the former demon was going to speak. Then, she announced loudly, “I—AM—GOING—BACK—TO—WILLOW—AND—TARA’S—WHERE—THERE—BETTER—BE—NO—NAKED—PEOPLE. HAVE—A—GOOD—NIGHT—PLAYING—CHECKERS—AND—I—WILL—SEE—YOU—TOMORROW—FOR—A—VERY—CLOTHED—CHRISTMAS!”
And with that, Dawn spun on her heel and marched determinedly out the front door, bumping once into the coat-rack, but everyone was still too stunned to cough up the slightest laugh at her expense.
“I guess Janice was a no-go, then?” Buffy asked, voice small.
Willow shrugged. “Something about Christmas Eve being solely about families.”
“Whoever heard of such things?” Xander asked.
“We’re taking care of her,” Tara added helpfully.
Buffy nodded and said, “So I noticed,” before resuming her method of maybe-they-will-disappear-if-I-hide-my-face-in-Spike’s-back-long-enough. She hoped said method would be recognized and supported by her lover, who was likely as eager to get her friends out of the house so they could return to the naked-goodness they’d been enjoying before the untimely interruption.
No such luck. Instead, Spike arched a brow. “Playing checkers?” he asked.
Tara waved. “Yeah…that’s something I…I’ll explain later.”
“We needed something to tell her about the Buffybot,” Willow said.
“An’ that’s what you came up with?”
“Again with this not being the right time?” Buffy said through her teeth. “Could you guys…I dunno how to say this nicely…get the hell out? Spike and I are…well, we’re busy. And I’d like to get back to our night. I’d also like for him to stop molesting the pillow made by my Great Aunt Mildred.”
Spike glanced down. “Oh right. Guess I can—”
“No, keep it up!” Xander barked. “Keep it well up until we’re very much gone. Buffy, Spike…it’s been ahhh…ummm…mortifying.” He offered an awkward wave, then tumbled out the front door.
“I’ll follow him,” Anya said. “We haven’t had any naked time of our own tonight. Good night, guys! See you tomorrow.” Then, with a careless shrug, she turned and calmly followed her boyfriend.
Buffy moaned, hooking her chin over Spike’s shoulder. “Will,” she said shortly. “Can we…tomorrow…”
“Pretend this never happened?” Willow asked, grabbing Tara’s arm and making her hurried way to the door.
“That’d be nice.”
“Consider it done,” she said.
“Mum’s the word,” Tara agreed, zipping her lips. Then they were gone, and the house again fell silent.
Buffy and Spike stood railroaded.
“Well,” the Slayer said. “I’m gonna…ummm…lock the door.”
“Good thinkin’,” Spike said, tossing the pillow back to the sofa and whirling to face her. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yeah…near as I can figure it, one of us here is a li’l more claimed than the other.” He grinned devilishly and cupped her cheeks, kissing her softly. “Needs fixin’, if you ask me.”
Buffy had no idea how he could erase the image of her friends’ horrified faces with a simple kiss, but she loved it. He reclaimed the mood with a blink.
And he was right. They did have unfinished business.
Business that simply, when put it in terms of Spike’s kisses, couldn’t wait.
Not even to lock the door.
But it wasn’t snow that saved Spike. Buffy knew it by the way he whispered to her. Murmured how he loved her. Caressed her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Tonight when it snowed, it meant something completely different. She didn’t know what; she didn’t even know if it was her snow. All she knew was what it meant for her. What it meant in standing next to Spike beside the bedroom window, leaning against the rocker in which he sat and absently stroking the mark she’d given him. What it meant in these moments following the largest change of her life.
The path she’d chosen was the one she was meant to choose. The others would be lost under a blanket of pure white. The ground was a blank slate; it merely awaited their footsteps.
The ones they would take together.
And when they finally collapsed into each other’s arms and tumbled toward sleep, the world was remade.
It was theirs.
fin
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