Chapter 5
Title: Cake
By: remember_nomore & gwyddfid
Chapter: 5 of ?
Pairing: Spike/Tara/Lindsey - eventually
Word Count: 4444
Beta: strangecreature
Later that night…
Spike had nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. Looking at his cards and then up at Tara, he realised why he was losing as badly as he was. Her face was schooled into a blank, cold expression and she stared back at him, unmoving…god, did the bint have any tells at all? Bloody hell.
Still hadn’t asked her where she learned to play so well.
Truth be told, there were a lot of things he hadn’t asked her but he still wanted to, say for instance, what the hell was she going to do with all those damn kittens and could she actually turn anything into anything or was it all just a big act? Also there was the little question of what the fuck all that playacting in the alleyway earlier tonight was all about. Yeah, they’d definitely have to get into that one of these days. Soon.
Spike glanced down at his cards again, but he wasn’t seeing them. Oh no, all he seemed to be able to see since they’d gotten back there from that sodding dive was the way her eyes looked in the alleyway as she backed away from him. God, it would have been easy to have her right there…just take what ever he wanted from her, ‘cause she was willing to give it, and ready; he could see it in her eyes.
But that was the thing, see, her eyes; there was more in them than just lust, there was abandon, too, the kind the desperate get when they think there’s nowhere else to go, when they think they’ve hit bottom and it won’t hurt if they fall just a little bit further. But the truth was that there was always further to go, and for some reason the closer you got to the bottom the more it bloody hurt when you fell.
But she was young and she didn’t have any idea how low she could go, you never did ‘til you got there and for some damn reason at that moment in the alley, when she was spread out in front of him like a bloody all-you-can-eat buffet, he couldn’t bear to be the one that showed her. It must have been the fucking chip because instead of the images of her wriggling and sobbing beneath him while he put it to her tantalising him, they burned, hurt. Oh, they made his cock twitch with need all the same, but at the same time they made his gut twist with disgust.
Spike just couldn’t do it to her.
Fucking chip.
You know, they called him evil, but those Initiative poofs were sure running a close second. Could have at least done something about the cravings when they put the chip in ‘cause having this bit of plastic in his brain certainly didn’t mean he could stop seeing that glistening trail of sweet liquid painting her skin. Bloody hell, it would have been so easy to just take her right there, lick up the alcohol and just keep going, past her breasts and belly until he had his face buried…
“Spike?”
“What?” he said guiltily, looking up at her; startled. “I mean, what…what’s up, pet?” He said, trying to be more casual this time.
God, he needed another drink.
Suddenly that poker face fell away, and she looked really down.
"T-thought you'd w-want this..." she said, handing him the bottle of booze, only a little left, too. Well, they’d been at it for a while. Don’t know why she looked so bloody sad all of a sudden, kinda annoying, thought they were having a good time. Maybe she was a sad drunk? Or maybe it was 'cause her girlfriend’s funeral was this week, you dozy bastard! He grimaced slightly at his own stupidity. Bloody hell, he really was a wanker.
“Cheers,” Spike said, gulping down the last bit. “Hey, all gone,” he said, waving the bottle at her. “I take back what I said before; you do bloody drink like a man.”
Can’t help being a bastard son of a bitch, can you Spike? he thought to himself.
"So," he said, trying to perk her up. "What you gonna do with all these bloody felines then? Start a little army of familiars; make 'em do your witchy bidding?"
"Well, I could just keep them all and get an early s-start on being the cr-crazy cat lady everyone figures I'll end up." There was a sad tone to her voice, then again it seemed to live there now. "You can take them to the shelter for me." She nodded. "Actually, you're t-taking me. That's it. No discussion." He looked at her and she grinned, picking up the kitten and whispering something in its ear.
“Shelter’s open after dark are they then?” He asked, as the kitten started climbing up his leg; Tara looked amused so he let it go, nice to see her smile really. ‘Course then it decided to attach itself to his bloody neck, and that was the last straw. Who was the vampire here anyway?
"They can always do the things I won't,” she said, as it licked away at him. What did she mean by that, then? he thought, smirking.
“Oh yeah…Oi!” Spike said, pulling the cat off his neck by the scruff of its neck. At the last minute it decided to latch on with its claws. “Ow,” he grumbled, plonking the cat unceremoniously on the floor and touching his neck. Hand came away bloody, and he licked off the blood while eyeing Tara.
“Yeah, I’ll help you take the little rats to a shelter,” he said, angrily. “Bloody things.” Then as an afterthought, he added; “Maybe we should keep one around, you know for the nibblet. New pet might help keep her mind off Buf-“
As soon as the first syllable left Spike’s lips the memories started to come back. He decided that he needed another drink, and bloody fast too.
“You got any booze hidden around here?” God, he bloody well hoped she had. This was his un-life now, booze the night away so he didn’t think of Buffy and then sleep the day away, running from dreams of her, dreams where he couldn’t save her again, and again…dreams where he almost saved her…they were the worst…
"Ummm...Ohh!" She sat up and crawled over towards Spike. "I think there's something in here." She leaned over him, almost crawling over his lap and I reached into one of the side tables and pulled out a bottle of JD.
Spike was thankfully wrenched from that train of thought as Tara draped herself across his lap, like a big bloody cat, no less. He must’ve been pissed ‘cos before he knew it his fingers were reaching out to pet her hair. Thankfully she was up and holding a bottle towards me before his fingers made contact.
"How's this?”
Spike reached out and took the bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink…and another…
“What's wrong?" she asked and he just looked at her for a minute - maybe it was more than a minute, couldn’t be sure the state he was in - and she looked back, waiting for an answer, as if she actually wanted to know. Heh, yeah right, sure she’d love a peek at what was going on in his head.
“I dunno why I’m still here,” Spike slurred. “I should go away, find myself … somewhere …somewhere she’s not.”
He took another swig and stood up, knocking into the table. Fuck.
“She won’t even leave me alone now she’s bloody dead!” he yelled, kicking the chair, and then more softly, he added, “I can’t stand it.”
"Y-you can't go..." He heard Tara say through his alcohol induced haze. “I-I need you here...I can't do this without you...you've been the only thing keeping me together the past week. You're not alone..."
She just kept saying it…
"You aren't alone."
…and touching his cheek as if he wasn’t some sort of monster…treating him like he mattered.
She was so warm.
He reached up and curled his fingers around her hand, pulling it away from his face. Turning it over in his in my hand he studied it, running his thumb over the warm skin over her palm, following the lines etched there. Spike ran his nail down the middle one, the lifeline - remembered Dru telling him once that’s what it was called - and wondered how long Buffy’s was…Tara’s looked the same as his…
“’spose you’re right,” he muttered, staring at his fingers as they rubbed over her soft, creamy skin and he wondered for a sec if they felt as cold on her skin as hers did warm against his. “Guess we’re in the same boat here…even though it’s not the same…but it feels like it is.”
"No..." she murmured softly. "It's the same boat...I-I'm tired of floating alone..." she looked "I'm tired of alone...aren't you?"
Spike looked up from her hands as she spoke. Wasn’t fair, he deserved everything he got; he was a monster; death followed him ‘round like a shroud. But Buffy? So what if she was the Slayer and so what if Red was in on the action…why did that mean they deserved death?
And Tara; what the bloody hell’d she ever do to anyone? He bloody hated all this feeling! Times were he would have thought this whole thing was funny, grief used to be an aphrodisiac, a high, but now…
Spike looked into her eyes. All of her bloody front, all that toughness was gone, stripped away and now all he could see was how fragile she really was, just like Buffy was…in the end.
Before he knew it the fingers of his other hand were brushing a stray hair from her face and running softly over her cheek. She’d been biting her lip and they were impossibly red. He chuckled inwardly, guess she did have some tells after all. So red…bet they’d be warm
…and sweet.
“I am…” he murmured, answering her earlier question simply, before trailing off and cupping her cheek in his palm. Suddenly he was leaning towards her, then a moment later the world went away and all he could feel were her lips on his. He could taste the alcohol on her lips.
Her lips moved against his and they were warm and soft and sweet and everything that they should be, that he thought they’d be.
As Spike felt her hands on his back, pulling him close he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. God, she was so warm, and she tasted so good. He could hear her heart thundering in her chest and...
What the bloody hell was he doing?
He didn't know, and somehow, he didn't care, hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt so wrapped up in somebody, so...
Buffy.
He slid a hand into her hair and nudged at her lips with his tongue, all he wanted to do was get lost in her and forget everything else. Everyone else, but before he knew it she was pulling back.
"Spike..." she said, and Spike opened his eyes to look down on her. “W-will you stay...here...tonight?”
What the…?
“N-not like that...but..."
He tried not to smirk when a faint blush stained her cheeks.
"D-dawnie's not here...I-I." I don't want to be alone...the bed's so..."
Spike’s grin got wider.
"N-not like that!” Tara blushed hard. “...but..."
Spike knew what he was supposed to do, in theory at least. Yeah, in theory he was supposed to be chivalrous and respectfully decline and all that. ‘Course, it’d be nice if someone’d tell him how the bloody hell he was supposed to do that when he could feel her breasts pushing against his chest, when he could smell her. She was so warm. What the hell were his choices anyway? Go back to his crypt and if he was lucky, down enough whiskey to pass out, or stay here and sleep curled up with a beautiful girl.
Beautiful? Well, yeah.
“All right,” he said softly, running my knuckles over her cheek. “I’ll stay.”
"You will?"
Spike nodded and she kissed his cheek and smiled at him like he was some sort of prince bloody charming for saying he’d stay. Like he was doing her a favour, or something, really it was her doing one for him. Didn't want to disappoint the bird but...well, he would in the end wouldn't he? But maybe he'd just deal with that in the morning.
She didn't move and she looked a might nervous, probably thinking she'd made a mistake asking a vicious demon to share her bed. But he was set on the idea now and he didn't want her changing her mind.
“Can’t sleep standing up, can we, pet?” he said ducking his head and turning. Spike tugged on her hand gently and started walking towards the stairs.
Passing Buffy’s room was definitely not a barrel of laughs for Spike, that’s for sure, but she kept on walking and all he had to do was follow. So he did. Soon as they reached her bedroom she went off to the little girl’s room to do…whatever the hell it was that women did in there. 121 years old and Spike still hadn’t figured that one out.
He looked around, taking stock of the room and its contents; pretty bloody girlie…magic stuff everywhere, some of the stuff didn’t look like it belonged to Tara, though, probably Red’s. No, definitely Red’s, he thought picking up a fluffy red…thing…top or something. Was it possible that women’s clothes had gotten more complicated? Then he remembered corsets, god they were a bugger to get off…
Spike walked over to the bed and sat down; taking off his boots would have to do, not like there was anything here for him to sleep in…and he didn’t think she’d take kindly to the way he usually slept. He grinned to himself, maybe he should just treat this as a normal night and sleep in what he usually sleep in? Christ, he’d love to see the look on her face when she came out and he was--
But Spike’s thoughts were interrupted when out she came, dressed in…bloody hell, bird had some legs on her…and then suddenly she was kissing him again. Spike wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into his lap, getting lost in her again and before he could help himself, his hand slid down her hip and stroked her bare thigh.
She pulled back and looked at him, running her hands over his face without a care in the world. Didn't seem too worried about where his hands were either, come to think of it.
Her eyes were still glazed over and Spike could see she was still drunk, but he, on the other hand, was sobering up. Vampire constitution had its benefits, but it also had its drawbacks, the biggest one at the moment being that the world was becoming clearer. What was also become crystal clear was that it would be bloody easy for him to take advantage of this situation. Yeah, he was sobering up, but he wasn’t exactly thinking straight. Having a beautiful, scantily clad girl in your lap tends to making thinking a might hard.
Spike’s mouth was watering and his cock was hardening, God, it'd be so easy to just...
But he couldn't, she wasn't just some cheap slapper he'd picked up in some bar, she was more. He'd earned respect for the bird tonight, that wasn’t something he had for many of the girls he met. Certainly didn’t have it for any of the girls he took home for a quick shag, and that’s what this would be…wasn’t as if she was going to turn over in the morning and ask him to set up house with her.
"Pet," he said softly, reluctantly taking his hands off her body. "You want me here to keep you company, fair enough. But anything else..."
"S-sorry..." She slid off Spike’s lap, looking and sounding embarrassed. He didn’t want to hurt the girl, but it was better this way, didn’t want her waking up in the morning with more regrets than were necessary.
As she sat down at the dresser and started brushing her hair - another thing Spike’d never figured out the point of. Why bother if it was just going to get all messed up anyway? - he adjusted himself discreetly, wouldn’t do to have her seeing that, after all his show of being the gentleman. "I-I'm sorry I don't h-have anything to give you to wear..." She said before getting into the bed, and then as if reading his thoughts, jumped up to close the blinds. "Thank you. I j-just...The idea of sleeping alone..."
“Doesn’t appeal to me much either, kitten, that’s for bloody sure,” Spike said softly, pulling back the covers and sliding into the bed with her.
“You getting in or am I sleeping alone after all?”
Slowly, she climbed into bed beside him.
"Awww, snuggles," she giggled and looked up at him as one of the kittens made its way up onto the bed.
Bloody cats…
"So I take it you're not going to take me to poker night again anytime soon huh?"
Spike picked up the cat and dumped it on the floor, before rolling over and wrapping his arms around Tara, pulling her against him. “Tell you what,” he began, brushing his lips against her neck and kissing her throat right at the pulse point. Spike could feel all that hot blood pumping away under the surface but he couldn’t smell a whiff of fear from her…wonder why? Guess she thought he was neutered like some bloody animal, with this chip. Then again, wonder why the sodding thing hadn’t gone off? Maybe it was ‘cos he wasn’t feeling any urge to bit her. Just kiss her, really.
“I’ll help you take these sodding rodents to a shelter,” he continued, stroking his hands up and down her back. “And then you and me are gonna play a proper game of poker. Sober,” he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. God, she smelled good. “See who bloody wins then,” he muttered, wrapping his arms tighter around her.
This was definitely better than going back to the crypt. Who the hell cared what she thought in the morning, as long as she didn’t decide to stake him of course.
"You've got a deal. I'll still beat you," she murmured confidently as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his. "I've been playing for a while. Saw my father play many times."
Yeah, but seeing wasn’t doing. Besides Spike’d met the wanker she called her father…can’t imagine he’d be much of a player. Poker took brains.
"Surprised you today, huh? Bet you didn't think Glinda had it in her," she teased, revealing that she knew his nickname for her; if you’d call it one.
“Wouldn’t be too sure about that pet,” Spike said, grinning. “Maybe you watched Daddy dearest play a few times but I’ve been playing for over a hundred years. Also, I’m evil, means I’ve got a great poker face. No emotions see,” he said softer. God, how he wished that were true, be a hell of a lot easier.
"No emotions? Spike. You've got more emotion, feeling and caring then people I know. You're more of a man then my mortal soulled father. Don't worry. I won't tell," she said, as she snuggled up against him.
“Think you might be right there, pet,” he said, smiling sheepishly. But he couldn’t help being a bit pissed. What the hell did she know about him? She had no idea how he felt…and that was the point, he didn’t feel. He wasn’t soft, he was just temporarily out of commission, but the big bad would be back! Bugger Buffy, bugger Dawn, he wasn’t up to being what they wanted. He moved to turn away from her. Bugger her too…he didn’t have emotions he was…a killer…Buffy knew that and…
"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you're not all big and grr anymore. At least you don't have cold toes."
Right, he needed to get the bloody hell out of here; this girl didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. He wasn’t bad any more? He’d bloody show her who wasn’t bloody bad anymore
"Why do you do that? Pretend you don't care and you don't have emotions? You're a really good person Spike. Least I've always thought that. You're so great with Dawnie and you helped me so much in the summer,” she mumbled sleepily.
That’s it! He jumped out of bed and paced to the other side of the room, trying to get as far away from her as possible. But why wouldn’t he leave? Why wouldn’t he tell her to toss off and just stop with the jibes about all his sodding emotions and feelings?
“Just ‘cos this chip doesn’t let me kill any more doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he shouted, running a hand through his hair.
“You know that I wanted to do to you in that alleyway tonight, you dim cow?” he said, lowering his voice and walking towards her. “I wanted to tear your throat out and leave you for dead. And if this chip wasn’t in here,” he continued, slamming the heel of his hand into his forehead with enough force to bruise. Tara recoiled back as far as she could from him, her body started to shake slightly. “I bloody would have, too. Would’ve enjoyed it, would’ve taken what I wanted from your body and left you lying in the dirt.”
Spike stood back and crossed his arms, a cruel smirk pulling at his lips as he watched her watch him. But he didn’t feel pleased with himself, no, that’d be too bloody simple wouldn’t it? What he did feel was a sickly knot of guilt in his stomach. Great, he was turning into fucking Angel, now.
“So what’s the verdict now then, pet? Still prince bloody charming?”
"Liar,” she spat, suddenly feeling a bit more on the sober side and getting up from the bed. “If you were so cold and unfeeling then what I said wouldn't have bothered you. If you were as 'dead' as you want people to think you wouldn't be spending any time with me. You wouldn't be mourning over Buffy, a Slayer no less, which you claimed to love even though you knew she'd never ever look at you for anything more than a punching bag. She saw you as a monster. But I don't. I don't see you like that Spike. I see a man when I look at you, I see someone that wouldn't have killed me in the alley as you claim because you couldn't bear to do it. You wouldn't be able to bear doing that to Dawn. She's had enough pain and suffering in her life and you're one of the people who don't give her that. You're not going to change that."
Bitch! He was so angry...so fucking angry...suddenly the chip didn't matter, all he wanted to do was tear her pretty little throat out.
"No matter how much you try you will never be able to kill William. Never Spike, you can kill and try to hurt people from now till the world really does fade away. But he'll always be there." With every word she moved towards him, confronting him to the point where he couldn’t ignore it.
Oh yeah? Never mind the pain, how dare she...
William? What? How did she...?
"You use that chip as a crutch. You don't want people to know that you've managed to do something that Angel could never do without a soul. Control the demon. If you really wanted to you wouldn't let that chip stop you from what you wanted. I know you. You and I are alike Spike. Except you have the ability to act it out. I don't." Tara spun on her heel and walked away from him, obviously finished with her attempt to pour salt into every wound he had.
As she reached the bathroom door her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees went from under her. Thinking quickly Spike grabbed her before she hit the ground, but part of him wanted to let her fall, part of him wanted to put her on the ground myself. But something held him back.
William.
No. It bloody was not, not that tosser, he wasn't William, not anymore. He never brought him any thing but p-- trouble. Cecily didn't want him, Dru didn't want him, and Buffy...well he never bloody knew what she wanted. But that's why he'd buried William long ago, he was a waste, he was nothing. End of sodding discussion. Bloody stupid bint, can't hold her liquor, he thought as he gathered her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
She was out cold. What did she think she was playing at? What did she know about him? Not a sodding thing, that's what.
Spike laid Tara down, placing her head on the pillows and pulling the blankets over her. She was beautiful...couldn't help but see it now, and what she said? That took guts, she was something all right. He wondered briefly if he'd always be stuck in this place, somewhere between wanting to hurt her and wanting to be with her every second of the bloody day and night.
He smoothed her hair back from her forehead and tucked the blankets tightly around her. She wouldn't be waking up any time soon, so it didn't matter if she slept alone or not, she'd never know.
Spike pulled on his boots and picked up his duster. Looking back at her one more time before turning to go, he suddenly realised he really didn’t want to leave. He could just go over there and lay down beside her...give in, it'd be so easy.
But instead, he picked up a pen and some paper...
Tara,
Be round tomorrow night to help you take those sodding ferrets to a shelter.
Thanks for the whiskey and...thanks, all right?
Spike.
Backing away, he left the note on the pillow beside her and walked quickly from the bedroom and out of the house. It wasn't 'till he got outside that he realized that he hadn't even glanced at Buffy's room when he walked past it.
And all he could think about was Tara.
By: remember_nomore & gwyddfid
Chapter: 5 of ?
Pairing: Spike/Tara/Lindsey - eventually
Word Count: 4444
Beta: strangecreature
Later that night…
Spike had nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. Looking at his cards and then up at Tara, he realised why he was losing as badly as he was. Her face was schooled into a blank, cold expression and she stared back at him, unmoving…god, did the bint have any tells at all? Bloody hell.
Still hadn’t asked her where she learned to play so well.
Truth be told, there were a lot of things he hadn’t asked her but he still wanted to, say for instance, what the hell was she going to do with all those damn kittens and could she actually turn anything into anything or was it all just a big act? Also there was the little question of what the fuck all that playacting in the alleyway earlier tonight was all about. Yeah, they’d definitely have to get into that one of these days. Soon.
Spike glanced down at his cards again, but he wasn’t seeing them. Oh no, all he seemed to be able to see since they’d gotten back there from that sodding dive was the way her eyes looked in the alleyway as she backed away from him. God, it would have been easy to have her right there…just take what ever he wanted from her, ‘cause she was willing to give it, and ready; he could see it in her eyes.
But that was the thing, see, her eyes; there was more in them than just lust, there was abandon, too, the kind the desperate get when they think there’s nowhere else to go, when they think they’ve hit bottom and it won’t hurt if they fall just a little bit further. But the truth was that there was always further to go, and for some reason the closer you got to the bottom the more it bloody hurt when you fell.
But she was young and she didn’t have any idea how low she could go, you never did ‘til you got there and for some damn reason at that moment in the alley, when she was spread out in front of him like a bloody all-you-can-eat buffet, he couldn’t bear to be the one that showed her. It must have been the fucking chip because instead of the images of her wriggling and sobbing beneath him while he put it to her tantalising him, they burned, hurt. Oh, they made his cock twitch with need all the same, but at the same time they made his gut twist with disgust.
Spike just couldn’t do it to her.
Fucking chip.
You know, they called him evil, but those Initiative poofs were sure running a close second. Could have at least done something about the cravings when they put the chip in ‘cause having this bit of plastic in his brain certainly didn’t mean he could stop seeing that glistening trail of sweet liquid painting her skin. Bloody hell, it would have been so easy to just take her right there, lick up the alcohol and just keep going, past her breasts and belly until he had his face buried…
“Spike?”
“What?” he said guiltily, looking up at her; startled. “I mean, what…what’s up, pet?” He said, trying to be more casual this time.
God, he needed another drink.
Suddenly that poker face fell away, and she looked really down.
"T-thought you'd w-want this..." she said, handing him the bottle of booze, only a little left, too. Well, they’d been at it for a while. Don’t know why she looked so bloody sad all of a sudden, kinda annoying, thought they were having a good time. Maybe she was a sad drunk? Or maybe it was 'cause her girlfriend’s funeral was this week, you dozy bastard! He grimaced slightly at his own stupidity. Bloody hell, he really was a wanker.
“Cheers,” Spike said, gulping down the last bit. “Hey, all gone,” he said, waving the bottle at her. “I take back what I said before; you do bloody drink like a man.”
Can’t help being a bastard son of a bitch, can you Spike? he thought to himself.
"So," he said, trying to perk her up. "What you gonna do with all these bloody felines then? Start a little army of familiars; make 'em do your witchy bidding?"
"Well, I could just keep them all and get an early s-start on being the cr-crazy cat lady everyone figures I'll end up." There was a sad tone to her voice, then again it seemed to live there now. "You can take them to the shelter for me." She nodded. "Actually, you're t-taking me. That's it. No discussion." He looked at her and she grinned, picking up the kitten and whispering something in its ear.
“Shelter’s open after dark are they then?” He asked, as the kitten started climbing up his leg; Tara looked amused so he let it go, nice to see her smile really. ‘Course then it decided to attach itself to his bloody neck, and that was the last straw. Who was the vampire here anyway?
"They can always do the things I won't,” she said, as it licked away at him. What did she mean by that, then? he thought, smirking.
“Oh yeah…Oi!” Spike said, pulling the cat off his neck by the scruff of its neck. At the last minute it decided to latch on with its claws. “Ow,” he grumbled, plonking the cat unceremoniously on the floor and touching his neck. Hand came away bloody, and he licked off the blood while eyeing Tara.
“Yeah, I’ll help you take the little rats to a shelter,” he said, angrily. “Bloody things.” Then as an afterthought, he added; “Maybe we should keep one around, you know for the nibblet. New pet might help keep her mind off Buf-“
As soon as the first syllable left Spike’s lips the memories started to come back. He decided that he needed another drink, and bloody fast too.
“You got any booze hidden around here?” God, he bloody well hoped she had. This was his un-life now, booze the night away so he didn’t think of Buffy and then sleep the day away, running from dreams of her, dreams where he couldn’t save her again, and again…dreams where he almost saved her…they were the worst…
"Ummm...Ohh!" She sat up and crawled over towards Spike. "I think there's something in here." She leaned over him, almost crawling over his lap and I reached into one of the side tables and pulled out a bottle of JD.
Spike was thankfully wrenched from that train of thought as Tara draped herself across his lap, like a big bloody cat, no less. He must’ve been pissed ‘cos before he knew it his fingers were reaching out to pet her hair. Thankfully she was up and holding a bottle towards me before his fingers made contact.
"How's this?”
Spike reached out and took the bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink…and another…
“What's wrong?" she asked and he just looked at her for a minute - maybe it was more than a minute, couldn’t be sure the state he was in - and she looked back, waiting for an answer, as if she actually wanted to know. Heh, yeah right, sure she’d love a peek at what was going on in his head.
“I dunno why I’m still here,” Spike slurred. “I should go away, find myself … somewhere …somewhere she’s not.”
He took another swig and stood up, knocking into the table. Fuck.
“She won’t even leave me alone now she’s bloody dead!” he yelled, kicking the chair, and then more softly, he added, “I can’t stand it.”
"Y-you can't go..." He heard Tara say through his alcohol induced haze. “I-I need you here...I can't do this without you...you've been the only thing keeping me together the past week. You're not alone..."
She just kept saying it…
"You aren't alone."
…and touching his cheek as if he wasn’t some sort of monster…treating him like he mattered.
She was so warm.
He reached up and curled his fingers around her hand, pulling it away from his face. Turning it over in his in my hand he studied it, running his thumb over the warm skin over her palm, following the lines etched there. Spike ran his nail down the middle one, the lifeline - remembered Dru telling him once that’s what it was called - and wondered how long Buffy’s was…Tara’s looked the same as his…
“’spose you’re right,” he muttered, staring at his fingers as they rubbed over her soft, creamy skin and he wondered for a sec if they felt as cold on her skin as hers did warm against his. “Guess we’re in the same boat here…even though it’s not the same…but it feels like it is.”
"No..." she murmured softly. "It's the same boat...I-I'm tired of floating alone..." she looked "I'm tired of alone...aren't you?"
Spike looked up from her hands as she spoke. Wasn’t fair, he deserved everything he got; he was a monster; death followed him ‘round like a shroud. But Buffy? So what if she was the Slayer and so what if Red was in on the action…why did that mean they deserved death?
And Tara; what the bloody hell’d she ever do to anyone? He bloody hated all this feeling! Times were he would have thought this whole thing was funny, grief used to be an aphrodisiac, a high, but now…
Spike looked into her eyes. All of her bloody front, all that toughness was gone, stripped away and now all he could see was how fragile she really was, just like Buffy was…in the end.
Before he knew it the fingers of his other hand were brushing a stray hair from her face and running softly over her cheek. She’d been biting her lip and they were impossibly red. He chuckled inwardly, guess she did have some tells after all. So red…bet they’d be warm
…and sweet.
“I am…” he murmured, answering her earlier question simply, before trailing off and cupping her cheek in his palm. Suddenly he was leaning towards her, then a moment later the world went away and all he could feel were her lips on his. He could taste the alcohol on her lips.
Her lips moved against his and they were warm and soft and sweet and everything that they should be, that he thought they’d be.
As Spike felt her hands on his back, pulling him close he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. God, she was so warm, and she tasted so good. He could hear her heart thundering in her chest and...
What the bloody hell was he doing?
He didn't know, and somehow, he didn't care, hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt so wrapped up in somebody, so...
Buffy.
He slid a hand into her hair and nudged at her lips with his tongue, all he wanted to do was get lost in her and forget everything else. Everyone else, but before he knew it she was pulling back.
"Spike..." she said, and Spike opened his eyes to look down on her. “W-will you stay...here...tonight?”
What the…?
“N-not like that...but..."
He tried not to smirk when a faint blush stained her cheeks.
"D-dawnie's not here...I-I." I don't want to be alone...the bed's so..."
Spike’s grin got wider.
"N-not like that!” Tara blushed hard. “...but..."
Spike knew what he was supposed to do, in theory at least. Yeah, in theory he was supposed to be chivalrous and respectfully decline and all that. ‘Course, it’d be nice if someone’d tell him how the bloody hell he was supposed to do that when he could feel her breasts pushing against his chest, when he could smell her. She was so warm. What the hell were his choices anyway? Go back to his crypt and if he was lucky, down enough whiskey to pass out, or stay here and sleep curled up with a beautiful girl.
Beautiful? Well, yeah.
“All right,” he said softly, running my knuckles over her cheek. “I’ll stay.”
"You will?"
Spike nodded and she kissed his cheek and smiled at him like he was some sort of prince bloody charming for saying he’d stay. Like he was doing her a favour, or something, really it was her doing one for him. Didn't want to disappoint the bird but...well, he would in the end wouldn't he? But maybe he'd just deal with that in the morning.
She didn't move and she looked a might nervous, probably thinking she'd made a mistake asking a vicious demon to share her bed. But he was set on the idea now and he didn't want her changing her mind.
“Can’t sleep standing up, can we, pet?” he said ducking his head and turning. Spike tugged on her hand gently and started walking towards the stairs.
Passing Buffy’s room was definitely not a barrel of laughs for Spike, that’s for sure, but she kept on walking and all he had to do was follow. So he did. Soon as they reached her bedroom she went off to the little girl’s room to do…whatever the hell it was that women did in there. 121 years old and Spike still hadn’t figured that one out.
He looked around, taking stock of the room and its contents; pretty bloody girlie…magic stuff everywhere, some of the stuff didn’t look like it belonged to Tara, though, probably Red’s. No, definitely Red’s, he thought picking up a fluffy red…thing…top or something. Was it possible that women’s clothes had gotten more complicated? Then he remembered corsets, god they were a bugger to get off…
Spike walked over to the bed and sat down; taking off his boots would have to do, not like there was anything here for him to sleep in…and he didn’t think she’d take kindly to the way he usually slept. He grinned to himself, maybe he should just treat this as a normal night and sleep in what he usually sleep in? Christ, he’d love to see the look on her face when she came out and he was--
But Spike’s thoughts were interrupted when out she came, dressed in…bloody hell, bird had some legs on her…and then suddenly she was kissing him again. Spike wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her into his lap, getting lost in her again and before he could help himself, his hand slid down her hip and stroked her bare thigh.
She pulled back and looked at him, running her hands over his face without a care in the world. Didn't seem too worried about where his hands were either, come to think of it.
Her eyes were still glazed over and Spike could see she was still drunk, but he, on the other hand, was sobering up. Vampire constitution had its benefits, but it also had its drawbacks, the biggest one at the moment being that the world was becoming clearer. What was also become crystal clear was that it would be bloody easy for him to take advantage of this situation. Yeah, he was sobering up, but he wasn’t exactly thinking straight. Having a beautiful, scantily clad girl in your lap tends to making thinking a might hard.
Spike’s mouth was watering and his cock was hardening, God, it'd be so easy to just...
But he couldn't, she wasn't just some cheap slapper he'd picked up in some bar, she was more. He'd earned respect for the bird tonight, that wasn’t something he had for many of the girls he met. Certainly didn’t have it for any of the girls he took home for a quick shag, and that’s what this would be…wasn’t as if she was going to turn over in the morning and ask him to set up house with her.
"Pet," he said softly, reluctantly taking his hands off her body. "You want me here to keep you company, fair enough. But anything else..."
"S-sorry..." She slid off Spike’s lap, looking and sounding embarrassed. He didn’t want to hurt the girl, but it was better this way, didn’t want her waking up in the morning with more regrets than were necessary.
As she sat down at the dresser and started brushing her hair - another thing Spike’d never figured out the point of. Why bother if it was just going to get all messed up anyway? - he adjusted himself discreetly, wouldn’t do to have her seeing that, after all his show of being the gentleman. "I-I'm sorry I don't h-have anything to give you to wear..." She said before getting into the bed, and then as if reading his thoughts, jumped up to close the blinds. "Thank you. I j-just...The idea of sleeping alone..."
“Doesn’t appeal to me much either, kitten, that’s for bloody sure,” Spike said softly, pulling back the covers and sliding into the bed with her.
“You getting in or am I sleeping alone after all?”
Slowly, she climbed into bed beside him.
"Awww, snuggles," she giggled and looked up at him as one of the kittens made its way up onto the bed.
Bloody cats…
"So I take it you're not going to take me to poker night again anytime soon huh?"
Spike picked up the cat and dumped it on the floor, before rolling over and wrapping his arms around Tara, pulling her against him. “Tell you what,” he began, brushing his lips against her neck and kissing her throat right at the pulse point. Spike could feel all that hot blood pumping away under the surface but he couldn’t smell a whiff of fear from her…wonder why? Guess she thought he was neutered like some bloody animal, with this chip. Then again, wonder why the sodding thing hadn’t gone off? Maybe it was ‘cos he wasn’t feeling any urge to bit her. Just kiss her, really.
“I’ll help you take these sodding rodents to a shelter,” he continued, stroking his hands up and down her back. “And then you and me are gonna play a proper game of poker. Sober,” he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. God, she smelled good. “See who bloody wins then,” he muttered, wrapping his arms tighter around her.
This was definitely better than going back to the crypt. Who the hell cared what she thought in the morning, as long as she didn’t decide to stake him of course.
"You've got a deal. I'll still beat you," she murmured confidently as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his. "I've been playing for a while. Saw my father play many times."
Yeah, but seeing wasn’t doing. Besides Spike’d met the wanker she called her father…can’t imagine he’d be much of a player. Poker took brains.
"Surprised you today, huh? Bet you didn't think Glinda had it in her," she teased, revealing that she knew his nickname for her; if you’d call it one.
“Wouldn’t be too sure about that pet,” Spike said, grinning. “Maybe you watched Daddy dearest play a few times but I’ve been playing for over a hundred years. Also, I’m evil, means I’ve got a great poker face. No emotions see,” he said softer. God, how he wished that were true, be a hell of a lot easier.
"No emotions? Spike. You've got more emotion, feeling and caring then people I know. You're more of a man then my mortal soulled father. Don't worry. I won't tell," she said, as she snuggled up against him.
“Think you might be right there, pet,” he said, smiling sheepishly. But he couldn’t help being a bit pissed. What the hell did she know about him? She had no idea how he felt…and that was the point, he didn’t feel. He wasn’t soft, he was just temporarily out of commission, but the big bad would be back! Bugger Buffy, bugger Dawn, he wasn’t up to being what they wanted. He moved to turn away from her. Bugger her too…he didn’t have emotions he was…a killer…Buffy knew that and…
"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you're not all big and grr anymore. At least you don't have cold toes."
Right, he needed to get the bloody hell out of here; this girl didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. He wasn’t bad any more? He’d bloody show her who wasn’t bloody bad anymore
"Why do you do that? Pretend you don't care and you don't have emotions? You're a really good person Spike. Least I've always thought that. You're so great with Dawnie and you helped me so much in the summer,” she mumbled sleepily.
That’s it! He jumped out of bed and paced to the other side of the room, trying to get as far away from her as possible. But why wouldn’t he leave? Why wouldn’t he tell her to toss off and just stop with the jibes about all his sodding emotions and feelings?
“Just ‘cos this chip doesn’t let me kill any more doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he shouted, running a hand through his hair.
“You know that I wanted to do to you in that alleyway tonight, you dim cow?” he said, lowering his voice and walking towards her. “I wanted to tear your throat out and leave you for dead. And if this chip wasn’t in here,” he continued, slamming the heel of his hand into his forehead with enough force to bruise. Tara recoiled back as far as she could from him, her body started to shake slightly. “I bloody would have, too. Would’ve enjoyed it, would’ve taken what I wanted from your body and left you lying in the dirt.”
Spike stood back and crossed his arms, a cruel smirk pulling at his lips as he watched her watch him. But he didn’t feel pleased with himself, no, that’d be too bloody simple wouldn’t it? What he did feel was a sickly knot of guilt in his stomach. Great, he was turning into fucking Angel, now.
“So what’s the verdict now then, pet? Still prince bloody charming?”
"Liar,” she spat, suddenly feeling a bit more on the sober side and getting up from the bed. “If you were so cold and unfeeling then what I said wouldn't have bothered you. If you were as 'dead' as you want people to think you wouldn't be spending any time with me. You wouldn't be mourning over Buffy, a Slayer no less, which you claimed to love even though you knew she'd never ever look at you for anything more than a punching bag. She saw you as a monster. But I don't. I don't see you like that Spike. I see a man when I look at you, I see someone that wouldn't have killed me in the alley as you claim because you couldn't bear to do it. You wouldn't be able to bear doing that to Dawn. She's had enough pain and suffering in her life and you're one of the people who don't give her that. You're not going to change that."
Bitch! He was so angry...so fucking angry...suddenly the chip didn't matter, all he wanted to do was tear her pretty little throat out.
"No matter how much you try you will never be able to kill William. Never Spike, you can kill and try to hurt people from now till the world really does fade away. But he'll always be there." With every word she moved towards him, confronting him to the point where he couldn’t ignore it.
Oh yeah? Never mind the pain, how dare she...
William? What? How did she...?
"You use that chip as a crutch. You don't want people to know that you've managed to do something that Angel could never do without a soul. Control the demon. If you really wanted to you wouldn't let that chip stop you from what you wanted. I know you. You and I are alike Spike. Except you have the ability to act it out. I don't." Tara spun on her heel and walked away from him, obviously finished with her attempt to pour salt into every wound he had.
As she reached the bathroom door her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees went from under her. Thinking quickly Spike grabbed her before she hit the ground, but part of him wanted to let her fall, part of him wanted to put her on the ground myself. But something held him back.
William.
No. It bloody was not, not that tosser, he wasn't William, not anymore. He never brought him any thing but p-- trouble. Cecily didn't want him, Dru didn't want him, and Buffy...well he never bloody knew what she wanted. But that's why he'd buried William long ago, he was a waste, he was nothing. End of sodding discussion. Bloody stupid bint, can't hold her liquor, he thought as he gathered her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
She was out cold. What did she think she was playing at? What did she know about him? Not a sodding thing, that's what.
Spike laid Tara down, placing her head on the pillows and pulling the blankets over her. She was beautiful...couldn't help but see it now, and what she said? That took guts, she was something all right. He wondered briefly if he'd always be stuck in this place, somewhere between wanting to hurt her and wanting to be with her every second of the bloody day and night.
He smoothed her hair back from her forehead and tucked the blankets tightly around her. She wouldn't be waking up any time soon, so it didn't matter if she slept alone or not, she'd never know.
Spike pulled on his boots and picked up his duster. Looking back at her one more time before turning to go, he suddenly realised he really didn’t want to leave. He could just go over there and lay down beside her...give in, it'd be so easy.
But instead, he picked up a pen and some paper...
Tara,
Be round tomorrow night to help you take those sodding ferrets to a shelter.
Thanks for the whiskey and...thanks, all right?
Spike.
Backing away, he left the note on the pillow beside her and walked quickly from the bedroom and out of the house. It wasn't 'till he got outside that he realized that he hadn't even glanced at Buffy's room when he walked past it.
And all he could think about was Tara.