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Could Be You (Chapter 6/?)

Author: Abby
Title: Could Be You
Chapter: 6 Word Count: 1661
Rating/Warning: NC-17 for sexual situations
Summary: You know you wanna dance. Spike knew it, the fans knew it, and this time, Buffy knew it, too.  Begins in the alley scene outside the Bronze during Fool for Love and moves swiftly off-canon.
Disclaimer: The characters herein are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. They are being used out of respect and admiration, and not for the sake of profit. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta: dampersnspoons , who deserves every ounce and more of her "best beta" nomination at the Sunnydale Memorial awards.
Banner: xtanitx 
Chapter Five

 

Chapter Six

*~*

The tiniest little sunbeam sneaked past the curtain’s edge, waking Buffy when its warmth reached her toes, sticking out as they were from the hopelessly tangled mess of bed sheets.  She watched it slowly meandering further into the room as the sun rose higher, hyperaware of its potential danger yet completely lacking the desire to do anything more complicated than blinking and taking the occasional breath.

 

Spike lay behind her, safely hidden for now from the sunny intruder, his arm and a corner of the blanket tucked tightly around her middle.  He was breathing in perfect rhythm with her, the mimicked breaths punctuated here and there by a little sigh or a mumbled word.  Buffy wanted to turn and watch him, having caught only glimpses of his sleeping face on those few occasions through the night she woke first.  She didn’t want to wake him, so she  remained content lying still and watching the world rise around her.

 

That, and she didn’t think she was capable yet of movement.

 

Little specks of dust danced in the beam as it moved across the bed, creeping in just as the day was creeping up on her.  Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, silently begging the universe or whoever was in charge of these things to let her linger just a little bit longer in the sweet exhaustion of the morning after.  Her mind felt deliciously numb in the sanctuary of Spike’s arms, even though the real world was dancing in front of her just like the dust motes, waiting  impatiently for her to pull out of her blissful haze and invite it back in.

 

It wasn’t difficult to make her thoughts drift away from the places she didn’t want to go.  A little tremor rolled through her as images of the night whirled past her mind’s eye, clouded in the ecstasy of the moment but no less powerful because of it.  Last night was phenomenal.  Staggering.  Epic. 

 

An eye-opener, too, and not just for the obvious — though it wasn’t every morning she awoke to drool on her pillow and a sweetly aching body with the strength of a rag doll. 

 

Spike snorted behind her, another sleep sound she found inappropriately adorable.  The sunbeam was nearing the danger zone and if she was going to stop him from a not-so-spontaneous combustion, she needed to do it now.  Buffy untangled her legs from the blankets and started to ease out of Spike’s arms, pouting a little even though nobody could see her.  She wasn’t even remotely ready to get up yet, and cast a glaring glance at the sunbeam.

 

She was almost out when a low growl sounded behind her and a strong arm tightened around her waist, hauling her back toward the centre of the bed.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Spike asked, the effect of his husky bedroom voice ruined by the yawn in the middle.

 

“I was—” 

 

Spike ran his tongue over the still-tender bite marks and the words fell away, forgotten, as icy-hot bursts of pleasure enveloped her body.  The rest of her answer came out in a rush of nonsensical babble that made Spike chuckle his rumbling laugh into the tingling flesh of her neck.

 

Spike pulled her onto her back beneath him, gazing down at her with eyes that were very blue in the bright light of the morning.  Buffy felt a familiar hardness pressing into her thigh, and a smile came to her lips.  After last night, she no longer had any doubts about Spike’s staying power.

 

“Mmm,” Buffy said, letting her legs fall open so he could settle between them and gasping as he entered her. 

 

The sense of connectedness swelled to life the instant he was fully sheathed inside her.  It surrounded her, caressed her, bound them together, and it didn’t matter how tender she was or that she had wanted to tell him something, because nothing, not even an impending apocalypse, could pull her away from him now. 

 

“Morning, love,” Spike said, brushing his fingers over her cheeks, hips moving with slow, almost lazy thrusts.

 

Buffy yawned, heard him laugh softly, and smiled when his lips pressed a kiss into her forehead.  “Good morning,” she said, as his fingers tucked into her hair.

 

She let out a quiet moan, loving the tingly feeling in her scalp as he combed his fingers through tangled strands.

 

Good,” he said, sexy voice back in full force, “doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

 

“You can say that again.”  The words were out before she realized she was speaking, and she could feel her cheeks growing redder under Spike’s amused smirk.

 

“Caught you,” he said, nipping at her nose with blunt teeth and trailing his fingers across her cheek.  “Love that colour on you, by the way.”

 

“Oh, stop it,” she said, looking away from his eyes even as the grin crept onto her face.

 

“All right,” he said, sliding all the way in and stopping there.  “Stopping.”

 

“Hey!”  She bucked her hips, only to have him press her hard into the mattress.  “I didn’t mean stop that!”

 

“No?”  His tone sounded innocent, but the tongue-in-teeth grin certainly was not.

 

Buffy dug her fingernails into his shoulders.  “No.”

 

His grin widened.  “So I shouldn’t stop it, then?”

 

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” she said, tightening her muscles around him and watching his face as his eyes blinked shut and the smug grin faded away amidst a throaty groan.

 

“No stopping,” he said with a nod, withdrawing slowly against her tight grip and making them both moan in response.

 

Buffy relaxed her grip on his shoulder to run her fingertips down his back.  “Ooh, much better.”

 

“Minx.”  His eyes opened, the grin returned, and the slow, lazy thrusts from before gave way to deep, rolling ones that made her breath quicken.

 

“I don’t know what that means,” Buffy whispered, reaching up to nibble on his chin and thinking now nice this was, Spike and banter and morning sex.

 

Spike smiled.  “That’s likely a good thing.”

 

“Know what else is a good thing?”  He arched an eyebrow at her, and Buffy grinned.  “Buffy on top!”

 

She wrapped one leg around him and used her strength to flip them both over, but her knee came down at the very edge of the bed and they toppled onto the floor.  Spike landed on his back with a startled oof and Buffy came down on top, somehow managing not to break him in the process.

 

Her panicked apology was cut short when she realized he was laughing, and the sheer oddity of Spike doing anything but chuckling evilly brought on a giggle of her own.  Strong hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her, and she took him in, feeling the vibrations of his laughter through her entire body. 

 

“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he said, when the laughter died down and their heavy breaths and pleasured sighs again filled the room.

 

She had been thinking the same thing.  “No dreams,” she answered, sliding her hands into his.  “Just us.”

 

The phone rang, loud and shrill, a sound that didn’t belong in this non-dream and caused her heart to skip inside her chest.

 

“Don’t—”

 

But the receiver was already in her hand, and as she brought it to her ear she heard Dawn’s voice, trembling, panicked, throaty as though she’d been crying.

 

“Mom?  Mom, is that you?”

 

Spike’s fingers gripped her thigh.  Buffy’s body stilled but her heart kept running, thumping and pumping away the dreamlike bliss and filling her chest with a heavy sense of dread.

 

“Dawn—”

 

“Buffy!”  A sniffle, a hiccup, a little whimper that tightened a band around Buffy’s chest.  “Buffy, i-is it true?  J-Janice—her mom, she said...but I didn’t—and nobody—”

 

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut.  No.  No, this wasn’t supposed to happen this way.  Stupid Janice and her big-mouthed mother!  “Dawn, shhh, honey, calm down—”

 

“Is. It. True?” 

 

Buffy could hear the steel in her sister’s voice, and knew she couldn’t skirt the truth, not this time. 

 

“Mom’s at the hospital,” she said, her vision blurring with tears and the band around her chest drawing tighter with each breath she took.  “For tests.  Dawnie, I’m sorry—”

 

“Can you just come get me?”  Somebody in the background said something, and Dawn answered them with a muffled reply.  “Buffy, please?”

 

“All right.”

 

She placed the receiver in its cradle.  Spike’s hand set at her shoulder but she jerked away, startled, only now remembering where she was and what was happening, and how easily she had made herself forget her mother’s illness and everything else. 

 

“Oh, my God,” she said, sounding pitiful even to her own ears.

 

“Buffy—”

 

She pulled herself off him, struggled to her feet and backed away even as he rose from the floor and followed her. 

 

“I—I’m sorry,” she said, looking down and grimacing at the sight of their naked feet only inches apart.  “Dawn, a-and Mom...”

 

“Come here.”  Spike gripped her shoulders, nudged her forehead with his until she looked up at him. 

 

The moment their gazes met she remembered everything, every moment when being with Spike felt like the most real, natural thing she had ever experienced.  Buffy realized that it still did, even now that the real world had butted its ugly head into her dreamy paradise.

 

But out there her mother was still sick, her baby sister was scared and alone, and she couldn’t think about this, not now.  “I need to go.”

 

“I know,” Spike said, tightening his arms around her, cradling her head as she laid it on his chest.  “They need you.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Spike eased her out of his embrace, brushed his thumb across her face.  “Don’t be,” he said, cupping her cheek.  “Go, do what you got to.  If you need me...”

 

Her smile felt weak, but she meant it just the same.  “I know where to find you.”

*~*
 

Comments

( 8 have spoken — take the speaking stick )
kaitlyn_lehman
Mar. 16th, 2010 12:22 am (UTC)
LOVE LOVE LOVE

Just caught up on this and I am totally in love! It's so nice to see Buffy have a pleasant morning after experience.

Cant wait to see more!
abelina
Mar. 18th, 2010 08:30 pm (UTC)
<3 Thanks, darlin'!

I'm glad you're liking it! Buffy deserves some happily morning afters, I think. Hope not to keep you waiting for too long for the next update!
maddie2927
Mar. 16th, 2010 05:07 am (UTC)
This is just...

made of everything awesome with chocolate and cherries and happy spuffy endings on top.

Loves it.
Funny and lovey and smutty and ten kinds of great. maybe not in that order. hee =]
abelina
Mar. 18th, 2010 08:32 pm (UTC)
That sounds like my kind of sundae! But really, thank you so much! I'm so glad that you are enjoying this.
peroxidelove
Mar. 16th, 2010 07:51 am (UTC)
I'm so in love with this story! Part of me is just screaming for more after every chapter, but I like the surprise of seeing an update :) The dreamy feel of this chapter was beautiful!
abelina
Mar. 18th, 2010 08:33 pm (UTC)
That's the problem with WIPs, isn't it? I like following along with stories as they happen, too, but sometimes it's so hard to wait!

And dreamy? I like dreamy, very much. Thank you!
sarian71
Mar. 17th, 2010 04:12 pm (UTC)
Yay, this chapter was more than well worth the wait! :)

'Good morning!', indeed! It's such a delight to see the two of them so comfortable and happy together. Gotta agree with Buffy, Spike and banter and morning sex is a great combination... ;)

Why, oh why did that phone have to ring... *sigh*
abelina
Mar. 18th, 2010 08:56 pm (UTC)
I'm glad to hear that -- I always wonder, when it takes a while to update, if anyone even misses this...

It was a nice combo, wasn't it? I'm sure none of us would say no to that...

Alas, unfortunately, something had to intrude eventually, as ignoring Joyce and her predicament isn't something I'm going to do. A phone call does that effectively without having them actually caught by somebody...
( 8 have spoken — take the speaking stick )

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