Buffy fidgeted, lightly biting her lip and tugging at her robe as her eyes roamed over the basement. It looked different than it had before the Bursting Pipe Incident. A few keepsakes had been damaged beyond repair – though not, thankfully, the tapes for Thursday and Aliena – but they’d mostly just used the space to store junk and do laundry. The washer and dryer were still in the basement, but it was divided in two, now.
One side, the one Buffy was in now, was a cozy living space. At the moment, it held a bed, a playpen that was half covered with a built-in bassinet, and a dresser. Also Buffy. And Tara, since she was still using the room, even though it had been a little over two months since Aliena had been born. Not that Buffy was complaining; it was nice having a pair of extra hands around the house. Especially on nights like this one, when she and Spike needed a sitter for the babies.
Buffy’s eyes lingered for a moment on the playpen. Thursday was sitting up on the sleeping pad they’d put in it, playing with her toys and making nonsense sounds. The bassinet part was empty, its intended occupant being held by Tara while she sat on the bed. The other woman knew what she was doing. She was really good with the girls and didn’t seem to mind watching them. Still though….
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
“It’s fine,” Tara assured her. “I know how to warm up both the blood and the pumped milk for them. And I think I could change diapers in my sleep if I had to. All of which you know.”
She did. And honestly, it wasn’t the babies she was anxious about it. They were just easier to focus on. She stared down at her toes, peeking out from under the hem of her long, comfy robe. She’d painted the nails. A sort of silvery pink. Normally, Spike would paint them for her while she did his, but this time she’d done them herself. It wasn’t a color she usually used, but it matched the “outfit” she was more-or-less wearing under the robe.
“Do… do you think he’ll… like it?” It wasn’t really the biggest question on her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask the one that actually was. Not yet.
“Honey,” Tara began, giving her a shyly seductive smile and eyebrow waggle, “If he doesn’t appreciate what you’ve got on, I’ll talk to Bethany about the possibility of a committed threesome."
Buffy couldn’t help a nervous giggle. God, it had been so embarrassing asking for Tara’s help with the ribbons, but it would have been even worse asking her mom or Dawn. At least asking Tara was better than a guy. She may have found Buffy’s lady parts enticing, but, well, she had the exact same parts on her own body. It made things feel a little less awkward.
Tara’s smile softened, and she stood up to gently put Aliena in the bassinet. Then she put a comforting hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “There’s no way Spike is going to turn down what you have for him. He loves you. The fact that you have two lovely little girls is proof of that. They wouldn’t exist if he didn’t love you.”
That was true. And thinking about that helped Buffy’s nerves. A little bit, at least. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Now, get,” Tara said, giving her a little shove towards the door. “Spike will be home soon.”
Buffy took a slow, deep breath. And then she got.
Spike pulled the DeSoto into the drive and parked, patting her steering wheel affectionately before getting out. There was a bit of a spring to his step as he strode back towards the boot of the car, his movements making his coat billow out behind him. Some blokes probably would have been annoyed to be suddenly presented with a grocery list and practically shoved out the door, but not him. It felt… nice. All domestic and whatall. And like he was part of the family, not just the odd boyfriend who was tolerated and allowed to stay because of the sprogs. The fact that there were things on the list that only he liked added to that feeling of acceptance, especially since he didn’t need human food anymore now that Aliena had been born.
A little voice in the back of his mind niggled at him, insisting that he didn’t deserve love or acceptance. That he’d done too many terrible things. The world doesn’t work based on who deserves what, he told that little voice, easily pushing it aside. The guilt would probably always be a part of him, but the regular therapy with Ben was helping him deal with it. He’d done terrible things, no question there, but there were humans what had done worse without even the excuse of no soul. Didn’t absolve him of his sins, just put them into perspective.
Ben’s words from their last session drifted through Spike’s thoughts as he started gathering up the bags and setting them on the drive. “You’ve said before that a vampire is basically a demon wrapped up in a coat of humanity and personality from the human who died to make them. You’re still that demon with the humanity and personality of William Pratt. Now his soul is in there, too, and it was the demon who made the choice. It wasn’t forced on you against your will. That’s a pretty powerful thing. And it doesn’t seem like the demon part of you particularly wants to go back to the way things were. I think that says something.”
It did. Spike wasn’t entirely sure just what it said, but it meant something. Especially considering some of Angel’s behavior after he’d got his soul. He’d even stalked Buffy just like one of his old victims, only difference being that his end game had been to bed her rather than kill her. Spike shook the thoughts away, closing up the boot and grabbing the grocery bags. No point in comparing himself to Angel. A bit like apples and oranges, wasn’t it? Both sweet fruits from a tree, but each their own unique thing.
The house was quiet when he went in, most of the lights off and no one about other than him. Was a bit odd, that. Yeah, Joyce was often in bed by this time, and the Nibblet and Tara at least in their respective parts of the house, but Buffy should have been up and about. She’d be out patrolling by now on most nights, but they’d all managed to convince her that, barring an impending apocalypse, she should get two nights off a week. Tonight was one of those nights.
Could be having a bath, he thought as he started putting things away. Or maybe Aliena had got hungry while Thursday was being put down for bed, and Buffy had just decided to nurse her there. Either way, he’d finish up with the groceries, look in on Thursday, and then invite his slayer for a bit of a cuddle. Maybe make her some dinner after. Boredom had led him to apprentice with a chef for a spell back in the eighties, and he’d recently been watching a lot of cooking shows. Would be fun to experiment a bit and have Buffy try a few things.
Of course, the real experimentation would require Dawn as the Guinea pig. Spike grinned at the idea, then put the last item away – a bag of his favorite crisps – before heading for the stairs. A note on the door stopped him from going into the nursery.
Spike, Thursday and Aliena are down with Tara for the night. Come on to the bedroom. I’ll be waiting.
His head tilted to the side as he considered the note. Hmm. The wee ones with a sitter and Buffy ready and waiting for him in their room. Sounded like his slayer had something special in mind for the night. Licking his lips in anticipation, Spike crossed the short distance to their room and flung the door open.
Soft music spilled out, proving that Buffy had activated the soundproofing spell Tara had set up for them. Candles were set up on all of the flat, stable surfaces. And there, sat on the edge of the bed, was Buffy, wrapped up in a robe. The moment he stepped inside and closed the door, she stood, letting robe drop to the floor, revealing what hid beneath in all its glory. A swath of silvery pink ribbon covered her nipples, wrapping around her back before coming forward to cover her nethers. It all ended in a large bow nestled just above her firm little ass like a rabbit’s tail.
“Well, hello there,” he purred, lips quirking into a predatory smile.
She was waiting for him, just as she’d said in her note. Ready to play.
Nerves skittered along Buffy’s spine like creeping spiders as Spike looked at her. God, that look… like he wanted to devour her, both figuratively and literally. No. No, there was no like about it. He did want to devour her. Both figuratively and literally. The thought of that, of his fangs sinking into her flesh as he drank her blood, made things clench down low and her nipples tingle. They brushed against the silk ribbon, sending another kind of shiver down her spine.
Spike slowly licked his lips as he stalked towards her, then curled his tongue behind his teeth. His inner predator was right up at the surface, ready to pounce. Sometimes, she was able to play the innocent little victim for him. Other times, though…. Her own predatory nature sang through her veins, burning away the nerves. Vampire slayer and vampire. He was her natural prey. Want. Take. Have. Mine.
She was the one who pounced, catching him by surprise as she tackled him to the bed. Her thighs wrapped around his hips, and her hands clamped down on his shoulders. And there was a flicker of fear in his eyes for just a split-second that had her starting to pull back even as part of her howled in triumph. Most of the time, he was okay with her holding him down like that, but every once in a while, he’d flash back to that night in the cemetery when Thursday had been conceived. When she’d….
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the fear was gone, replaced with an excited gleam. “Fierce little rabbit then, are we?” he murmured huskily.
She blinked, pulling herself from her own memories. Rabbit? Huh, well, the bow did sort of look like a bunny tail. She hadn’t been thinking about that when she’d planned things out. She’d been too focused on the thing she’d hidden at the base of the “tail.” The nerves rushed back in, only to be chased away by Spike’s hands gliding up her thighs and towards the bow. Her own hands went from his shoulders to his arms, pinning them down.
She stared into his eyes, watching as he considered fighting her. Considered making it a wrestling match. She felt his muscles tense beneath her. And then he relaxed, smirking lazily as he realized she didn’t want a play fight right now. “Not time for opening my prezzie yet, I take it.”
Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. It used to piss her off, back when they’d still been enemies, how well he could read her. Now, though…. She leaned forward to brush her lips against his forehead in a delicate kiss. Then the bridge and tip of his nose. Both checks. A firmer kiss against his slightly parted lips.
He loved her. She’d known that. Like Tara had said, the babies were proof. But it really hit home in that moment that he loved her. Buffy Summers. Not some imaginary girl on a pedestal or who he thought he could turn her into if only she’d stop being herself and let him take care of her. And she loved him.
“Not until after I’ve opened mine,” she said huskily, pulling away so she was sitting upright.
Then she ripped his t-shirt open, exposing the pale flesh of his chest and stomach. There was a soft sound, a sort of gasping moan, and he gazed up her with eyes that had gone dark with desire at her show of force. She loved that. Loved that it didn’t bruise his ego to acknowledge her strength. That he was proud of her strength and didn’t mind at all that it was greater than his.
She kissed his chest. She loved that, too. He was beautiful and well-toned. And all hers. She kissed her way down his chest, giving each nipple a playful nibble. Then she nuzzled his belly. After two and a half months, he’d gotten most of his muscle tone back. Not all of it, though, and she loved that, too. There hadn’t been any choice with Thursday, but he’d carried their second child in part because Buffy would have had to drink human blood if she’d been the one to do it.
She was gentler with his pants, taking the time to unbuckle the belt and undo the zipper before tugging them down. She took a moment to gaze at the hard length of him. Before Spike, she’d never really had a chance to just look at a penis. Things had happened too fast with Angel, and with Parker, she’d been too nervous to really pay attention. As for Riley, well, sex with Riley had been all about him putting Mr. Winky into a raincoat as soon as possible and then buried away in her bits.
Spike let her look and touch as much as she wanted. Even when the estrogen flooding his system had been enough to keep him soft, he’d let her fondle and suck, experimenting with the feel of a flaccid penis. She reached out and brushed her fingers along the silky skin, watching him twitch and swell. She loved that. And the sounds that meant Spike loved it, too. He wasn’t afraid to be vocal. Another of the so many things she loved about her man.
She scooted down his legs and leaned in, her tongue darting out to catch a bead of pre-cum. Then she drew him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks while flexing her tongue. More sounds from Spike, and then his hands buried in her hair, strong fingers massaging her scalp as she used her entire mouth – tongue, teeth, cheeks, and even the roof of her mouth – on him. After a moment, he tugged at her hair, trying to pull her up.
Buffy growled low in her throat, biting down just hard enough to make Spike cry out in both pleasure and pain. She knew he wanted to pleasure her, too, but she wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. She focused on what she was doing, on making him feel good. He’d done this for her so many times, taking care of her needs whether he got his or not. She’d already done this a few times since Aliena’s birth, but she wanted to do it again. To feel this power again.
“Buffy,” he groaned out, gasping for breath that he didn’t need.
She deep throated him, fighting her gag reflex to take him all the way in. Then she quickly worked her way back up.
“Don’t….” She stopped talking to lap at him before gently nibbling at the head. “Don’t hold back.” She wrapped her hand around his shaft, and he shuddered, hips bucking. “Give me what I want.”
Her mouth joined her hand, fingers and tongue working feverishly until Spike’s entire body seemed to clench and shudder. He gave a strangled, inarticulate shout, and then she was drinking him down, swallowing all he had to offer. Mine, she thought. Mine, mine, mine.
He was hers. Her vampire. And she was his slayer. The little surprise at the base of the bow – and what it represented – was just a formality. It wouldn’t change anything, and there was no reason to fear rejection. Spike would never reject her. Because he loved her.
She gave him one last lick before crawling up his body to snuggle beside him. They didn’t speak for the next few moments, just basking and trading sweet, lazy kisses.
“Now you can open your present,” she finally murmured. “But you have to untie it. No ripping.”
She was on her side facing him which gave easy access to the bow. Instead of going right for it, he skimmed his palm along her skin, trailing down her side, over her hip, and caressing her thigh. Then his hand came back up, curving along her ass before plucking at the knot of silk ribbon. After a moment, it came undone, and Spike went utterly still against her.
Then he slowly pulled away to sit up, staring at the skull ring the ribbon had been threaded through. He didn’t say a word.
And the nerves and insecurity Buffy thought she’d overcome came flooding back.
Spike stared down at the ring in his hand like he’d never seen it before. Utter bollocks, of course, he knew every centimeter of the bloody thing. It had been his, hadn’t it? Until he’d given it to Buffy a couple years back when one of Willow’s spells had made him propose to the slayer. Technically, they’d never called off the engagement. Was she correcting that bit of oversight, or….
He shook his head and snorted at his own idiocy. ‘Course she bloody well wasn’t trying to call it off. She’d gone through all the effort with the ring and the ribbon and whatall. And there was the way she’d smelt during it all. Nervous. Almost afraid. He’d chalked it up to being self-conscious about the ribbon. Sometimes sharing a skimpy outfit could feel more revealing than being naked.
He glanced over at her. She was sitting up now, eyes wide and anxious. “So, you know Xander and Anya got married,” she blurted. “Of course you know. You were there. As the best man. And I was there…. Which you also know. ‘Cause, you know, there and um…. It all got me thinking.” She had to stop to take a deep breath. “W-will you marry me?”
Would he…? Spike tried to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat. He didn’t deser– Oh, shut your bloody gob, already, he told that part of himself. Then he slipped the ring on and answered Buffy with a kiss. One that said it all.
Yes. With everything I am, yes.