By Ehann

Part 6: By the Starlight

 

“What are you doing here?” Dawn was surprised to see her sister waiting for her outside Sunnydale H.S.

Buffy shrugged. “Do I need a reason? I’m being all sisterly, here.” She paused and took Dawn’s backpack and slung it easily over one shoulder. “C’mon. I need to talk to you.”

The younger girl frowned. “I didn’t do it, I swear.”

The girls started off down the sidewalk. It was a short walk back to the Summers’ house, a mere four blocks. Dawn often wondered how Buffy had ever made it to school on time to the old school. She was glad that they’d moved the new and improved version closer to home. More sleepy time this way.

“I know you’ve been…I know I’ve been spending a lot of time away from home lately,” Buffy began.

Dawn shot her a sideways glance. “Yeah, well, I guess what with you recovering from death and heaven, and all…I know you have a lot on your mind.”

Buffy grimaced. “I’m not exactly sure how to say this, Dawn.” Her sister looked worried so Buffy added hastily, “It’s nothing bad…at least…I don’t think…It’s not. Nothing bad.”

“Uh-huh.” Dawn sounded skeptical.

“When I was gone…what was it like? With Spike,” she clarified. “What was Spike like when I was gone?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Look, I just do, okay?” Her voice sounded strained, thin. “Dawn, I need to know.”

The teen took a deep slow breath. Buffy had no idea the wounds she was reopening. “It was…different. Everything was…scary. We knew that with no Slayer on the Hellmouth, we were all in danger.” She paused then added. “Especially me.” She kept her eyes straight ahead as she walked, purposefully avoiding her sisters gaze. “Spike…he said he promised you that he’d take care of me.”

Dawn had to stop for a few minutes. It was too close. What if Buffy hadn’t come back? What would have happened to her? To them all? “A lot of times, we—Spike and me—we didn’t do anything special. He taught me how to play rummy.” She smiled a little. “He cheats, did you know that?”

Buffy’s lips twitched. “Yes,” she said softly. “I did know that.”

“Sometimes, he’d take me for ice cream. Stupid stuff. Sometimes, Willow and Xander would drop me off at his crypt and we’d hang out there. He was…”

“What?” Buffy prodded gently.

“He was quiet. He was different. He was…” She looked over at her sister. “He was…broken…after you died. He just…I don’t know. Sometimes I felt like I was the only…the only thing he had to hang onto, you know? Like if I wasn’t there, he just would have disappeared. Or watched the sunrise one morning.” Dawn stopped. “Buffy. What is this about, really?”

The Slayer looked troubled. “I…we…I’ve been…Spike…” She rolled her eyes in disgust and then blurted, “I’ve been seeing Spike.”

“Well, duh. I see him too.”

“I’m…sort of dating him.” She had told Willow of course of her relationship with the vampire, but the words felt odd coming out of her mouth.

Dawn snorted. “Took you long enough, dumbass.”

“Excuse me?”

Dawn looked incredulous. “Buff. He is so in love with you. You know this. And…you’ve been spending a lot of time with him since you…got back.”

Buffy glanced down at the sidewalk. “I guess. When just being here hurt…I could be with Spike and it wasn’t so bad.” She laughed hoarsely. “I told him once that I could still be alone with him.”

“Mmm-hmm. Dating, huh? I’ll bet he kisses really good.”

“You have no idea,” Buffy said without thinking, then covered her mouth in horror.

Her little sister erupted into giggles. “Ha! I knew it!”

“Knew what?” Buffy asked archly. “That he kisses like an expert?” Among other things…

The girls arrived at their house. They climbed the porch steps, then Buffy turned her key in the front door. “Willow has late classes today. She said she’s gonna try and make up some study time tonight from when she had to miss a few days…” She trailed off as she noticed the expression on Dawn’s face.

“Huh. I had to miss school too. And I have a broken arm!” Dawn snorted. “Ooh, poor Willow.” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

“Enough,” Buffy told her. “She’s trying, Dawn. She really is.” The Slayer dropped the backpack onto the floor by the coffee table in the living room. “What do you want for dinner, key girl?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn had wanted steak. Buffy fixed frozen pizza instead. It was the first time the two girls had eaten dinner together in…well, too long, Buffy decided. Willow had arrived back at the house around eight, guzzled two glasses of water, then went up to her room.

Mom’s room, Buffy still thought sometimes. It was just too weird to say ‘Willow’s Bedroom,’ and be talking about where her mother had slept. Buffy carefully dried the plates she had Dawn had used. She had to be careful—the robo-Buffy had broken a bunch of flatware and now there wasn’t very much left. Just add it to the list of stuff that had to be done, bought and fixed, Buffy thought bitterly.

Replacing the plates in the cabinet, she surveyed the kitchen. The dinner mess had been repaired. The counters gleamed under the light and for just a moment, Buffy let herself imagine that her mother was watching TV in the other room.

God, she missed her mother.

Apparently, death had not lessened her grief any. Strange. Been almost a year, and still…it seemed like yesterday.

She missed her mother.

Buffy wiped roughly at her eyes with her sleeve. If she started crying, she didn’t think she could stop. She went out the back door, letting it slam behind her. The air was mild, and the night clear. She stared up at the stars until her neck ached. Eventually she had to lower her head and she sat down on the back porch. She crossed her legs, and rested her elbow on her thigh, cradling her chin in her palm.

She closed her eyes. The periods of numbness were becoming more and more infrequent. Buffy found that she almost missed the numbness. It was better than the dull ache that filled her most of the time.

“I touch the fire, and it freezes me,” she sang under her breath. The words fell away into the night air. She had not forgotten any of the lyrics that she had sung, that night, last month. If she concentrated she could remember the music, could remember how her words had melted into one glorious mountain of harmony. But the last time she had uttered those lryics, it had been part of a duet. The music that still played in her mind ( for the spell had never really ended, as far as she was concerned, since she could burst into pitch perfect song at any moment) reminded her that something lacked.

“I touch the fire and it freezes me…” She sighed, ready to go in, when she heard it.

“I died, so many years ago…”

The strong baritone drifted to her ears. Buffy opened her eyes. “Spike.”

Dressed in his uniform of black, his eyes burned into her. He stood there like a statue, beautiful in the starlight. His cheekbones where thrown into sharp relief and there was a shadow under his lower lip. His hair was slightly curly tonight—he had started wearing it like that.

“Miss me?” The thorough inspection had not escaped his notice.

Her steps were light as she went to him, barely making a sound on the wooden porch. She stopped in front of him, her body not quite touching his. The air hummed between them, as it had always done. In the past it had been charged by hate, or anger…or an emotion unutterable. Now…now…

“I look into it, and it’s black,” she whispered to him. He didn’t move; just stared down at her. She leaned close, cupping his jaw with her palm. Her thumb brushed across his lower lip, and his eyes drifted shut. She felt his hands at the small of her back. “This thing is real, and you can make me feel…”

His eyes flew open. “Those aren’t the words,” he said slowly

“They are now.” She flicked her tongue over his lip, then bit it a little. “And you missed your cue.”

Spike tightened his arms around her and bent her nearly backwards with his kiss. Her hands threaded through his hair, catching in the thick curls. The world faded away. There was only Spike, keeping her from falling backwards onto the ground, making her blood burn. His scent surrounded her, and she reveled in it. She slid her hands down to his shoulders, pulling him still closer.

He growled deep in his throat, and pulled his mouth away. He leaned his forehead against hers and took an unnecessary breath. “I want you,” he said. He slid one leg between her thighs, pressing his erection into her.

She forced her hand down between their bodies, and massaged the straining bulge. She loved the way he fit in her hand. She wanted to hold him, squeeze him… Her fingers nimbly worked at his jeans, unbuttoning them and freeing his stiff length.

Buffy stared into his eyes as she played with him. She rubbed her fingers against the heavy sac, massaging it. Then she slid her thumb across the tip, over and over, spreading the drop of moisture that leaked there. She used it as lubrication now, and pumped her hand up and down.

“Buffy…” the word was forced from him. He sounded drugged. His pupils were wide and dark, nearly obliterating the clear blue of his eyes. Her eyes never left his as she worked him. His hips were moving now, catching the rhythm of her movements.

“God, Spike…I am so wet right now.” Her voice was thick with arousal, and she wanted nothing more at that moment than to rip her clothes off and mount him.

He grabbed her hand, and held it still upon him. “This way.” He drew them deeper into the backyard, behind the picnic table. There was no moon out tonight, and they could not be seen from the house. “Alright. Now,” and with one sharp motion, her pants were in shreds, falling from her thighs.

Buffy felt a tugging around her hips, then heard something rip. Spike tucked her thong into his back pocket. He made to lift her up, but she shook a finger at him, and went to her knees, instead.

Her hands returned to his thick length, stroking the pulsing shaft. She tilted his cock up, and leaned down, taking the head into her mouth. She sucked gently, letting her tongue rub against the sensitive underside. With her every pull of her mouth, she licked the underside, squeezing the base at the same time.

“Buffy, my god.” He could barely speak. He never wanted this to end, it felt so good.

She stiffened her tongue, rolling it over and over the tip, then easily took him deep. With her left hand she stroked his balls, massaging them. She let her mouth linger over the head, lapping at it, while she increased the speed and pressure of her handjob.

Spike couldn’t take his eyes off what she was doing. Her mouth was so wet, so hot…She was so hot… His balls tightened, and he knew he was lost. “Buffy,” he said warningly, but she glanced up at him and then swallowed every drop.

When he could think again, and he could only imagine that a few minutes had passed, he pulled them both to the ground. Her feminine wetness and warmth pressed into his groin. She was so ready, so turned on. That heat was for him, Buffy wanted him…

He saw the need in her face, the desire. He slid his hand under her shirt and found her breasts. They were small and firm, the nipples very hard. Very hard and very sensitive, he knew. He bent at the waist and twisted his head, suckling through the thin cotton of her shirt. She yanked it impatiently over her head, then guided his mouth back to her.

Obligingly, he flicked his tongue over the stiff peaks, until he felt her hand disappear between her legs. “Ah-ah, love. No fair, that.” One blurred movement later, he had her straddling his face. He growled again, possessive, this time.

He used every technique he had ever learned about women, especially his woman. She was so slick her moisture glistened along the inner surface of her thighs, very near her center. He fucked her with his fingers, loving the mewls and gasps she offered him. He knew what she really needed, though, so he separated her folds and found the tiny hood. She loved this best of all. He lapped at her favorite spot until she rocked against his face, wanting him closer still. Spike held back nothing, working his tongue on her and making his fingers slip rhythmically in and out.

She grabbed his head as she came, nearly tearing it off his head in the process. He stroked her with the length of his tongue, and she shuddered, convulsing around him again.

When her quakes finally ceased, she gingerly—everything hurt!—backed down his body and collapsed on top of him.

He cupped his hand around the back of her head, tucking her face into his shoulder. He was lying naked in the grass in Buffy’s backyard. Any one of the little super friends, or hell, even the Nibblet could come across them.

He couldn’t have cared less.

Clear Waters