(no subject)
You Know You Want To Dance
Chapter: 4
Previous chapters: here
Summary: a darkly erotic twist on the events of “Fool For Love” and spinning off into an angstily Spuffy season 5.
Pairing: Spuffy, of course!
Thanks to: nemo_88 for the beautiful banner.
Rating/warnings: 18/NC-17. Angst and adult themes.
Word count: 2,291.
Since it’s been a long time, here is a summary of what happened in the previous three chapters…
Spike and Buffy’s sexually charged sparring match in Fool For Love led to an erotic encounter in her back yard. Buffy was disgusted with herself. The strain of her mother’s illness also began to tell on her. Eventually the sexual frustration became too much and Spike and Buffy had sex in a graveyard, which of course made Buffy even more guilty, and more withdrawn from Riley. Spike realised he had never really explained to Buffy the depth of his feelings for her. He went to her house to tell her he loved her. Meanwhile, Buffy had found out that her mother had a tumour. She allowed Spike to undress her, but he refused to have sex with her in a passive and unhappy state. She refused to tell him what was wrong, but allowed him to stay in her room until she fell asleep. This was where we left them: And so they lay, Buffy staring at the ceiling as Spike gazed at her face, until at last she fell asleep. Then Spike covered her naked body with a blanket and sat by the window smoking until the thin hour before dawn.
Buffy awoke slowly, tugging the covers over her bare shoulders that were goosepimpling slightly in the cool room. Bare shoulders? She blinked hard, puzzled, and then opened her eyes again, moving her legs against the blanket. Her legs were definitely bare too.
Then it came back to her. The crying and - Spike and - oh, God, was he still here? She sat up, protectively holding the blanket to her chest, but there was no one else in the room with her. The window stood open, explaining why she was cold, and on the sill lay a small row of cigarette butts. She stood up and went to the window, pulling down the sash, and she could smell a thin scent of smoke and bourbon. Her stomach tipped uncomfortably and she gave a low, rushing sigh. Then she pulled the curtains tightly closed and climbed back into bed.
She managed to avoid patrolling for a few days after that. The others didn’t ask why. Giles even said it was a good idea to take a break. She gave him a thin smile and let him think she was taking care of herself. One night she even let Riley make love to her. It was nice, mainly. She had a vague sense that once it had been more than just nice, but nice was still something. Comforting, almost. And not at all - wrong. Like certain other things had been.
Her mom went into surgery, and the whole scooby gang went to the hospital with Buffy. She felt simultaneously glad of and irritated by their presence. She hated the way they kept offering to fetch her things; if she had to drink another soda she’d scream. But all the same, she was glad she wasn’t sitting on a hard plastic chair all by herself.
Eventually the hours passed, and Dr Kriegel - kind, competent Dr Kriegel - appeared. She felt her heart in her chest. Really felt it, a physical pain pressing against the wall of her chest, making it hard to breathe.
“It was possible to visualize the tumor completely, which means I was able to get all of it. So, barring complications in recovery... I think your mother's going to be fine.”
Buffy felt her mouth open and close. Blood rushed in her ears, and she gave a small, yelping gulp. The relief was so great it was close to pain. She put her arms around the doctor, almost crushing him with the force of that relief.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she murmured into his white coat, until he gave a sound of protest and she flushed, smiling in embarrassment and joy. Mom would be ok. Everything would be ok. She could put all of this behind her. All - Everything.
*
Spike stood outside the Summers house, smoking his way through his sixth cigarette. It was stupid, being here. Stupid and masochistic, and whilst Spike acknowledged he was love’s bitch, this was going a bit far. Being here, knowing she was up there, screwing that lunkheaded prat - it was unbearable. But he couldn’t tear himself away. Had to twist the knife in his chest just a little bit more.
Dawn had broken the great news to him. She had appeared at his crypt, bubbling over with happiness, and at first he’d been swept along with it. It had been a while since he’d seen the Bit truly happy, and it made him smile. Then she had dropped the bombshell.
“I’m headed over to Xander’s,” she said, shrugging her bag back onto her shoulder. “Buffy suggested it. She said it would be fun for me. But I know it’s totally so she can boink Riley.”
It had hurt. Course, Spike wasn’t stupid. He knew Buffy was still going out with Captain America, so what did he expect, that they’d play canasta? Yet it still hurt, hearing it spelled out like that. He’d sort of hoped that after the other night that… What, Buffy would dump Riley for him? Not bloody likely. Couldn’t stop him wanting it, though. Love wasn’t about thinking sensibly, after all. So here he was, standing underneath her window like soddin’ Romeo, ‘cept in this case Juliet was shagging boring Paris and Romeo was going to have to go home and have a solitary wank.
Eventually the low sounds, just about within Spike’s hearing range, stopped. He smoked another cigarette and wondered when he should call it quits and bugger off home. Just as he was ready to grind out his fag and set off, the front door opened. His first reaction was disappointment when he realised it was Riley instead of Buffy. Then he felt curious. What was the tank commander doing out of bed? He was the clingy sort; shouldn’t he be wrapped around his Buffy now?
Silently, Spike slipped out from behind the tree and began to follow.
*
Buffy rolled over. The space next to her was cool… and empty.
“Riley?”
“I’ve got something I need to show you.”
Not Riley. She sat up, then realised she was naked. Having given Spike an eyeful of breasts, she pulled the sheet up to her chin.
“Spike, what the hell are you doing here?” she said, trying to ignore the way her stomach had lurched as he had given her chest an appraising look.
“Told you. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Spike, just because I’m naked doesn’t mean I’m going to -”
“Wasn’t talking about that kind of showing, pet, but if you’re in the mood -”
“Tell me what you’re talking about now or I swear to God I will stake you,” said Buffy tightly. Her heart was thumping hard. God, she was pathetic. One sleazy comment from Spike and she was practically panting over him. What was wrong with her?
“Can’t tell you,” he said. “Have to show you. Get dressed.”
Buffy stared at him.
“Oh, right. I’m not s’posed to look. Not like it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he smirked, but turned around. Buffy quickly slid out of bed, pulling on the first things that came to hand, and they set off into the night.
“If this is a ruse to get me on my own, Spike -” she started saying, after they had walked for a while in silence. Spike waved a hand to shush her.
“We’re here,” he said, stopping outside a dilapidated warehouse.
“This had better be worth it,” said Buffy grimly.
“Oh, I think it will be,” said Spike, his tone unreadable, and he pushed the door open.
Buffy stared around her in a slow horror. The place was littered with trash, rusted bath tubs and fallen masonry mixed up with empty pizza boxes. It managed to smell both acrid and musty. Worse, though, were the people. Lying on stained mattresses, pressed against the wall, they were letting vampires drink from them. Letting them. Buffy was automatically reaching for her stake, but Spike put a hand on her arm.
“Leave ‘em, Slayer. That’s not what we’re here for.”
Spike stepped over a couple entwined on the floor and led her up a rickety staircase. Buffy felt oddly afraid. She was certain somehow that she was going to see something very bad here. There was a low, sick feeling in her stomach; a similar sensation to the feeling she’d had the morning she’d cooked breakfast for her mom and Joyce had mentioned CAT scans for the first time. She had a strong impulse to just turn around and run down the stairs, but she forced herself to keep walking. She was the Slayer. The Slayer didn’t run away.
Spike reached the end of a long hallway. She could barely see him in the gloom, only taking in his silhouette and the gleam of his white hair. Buffy could, however, tell that he had stopped moving. She kept walking towards him, and he stayed still.
“There’s nothing he-” she began. Spike lifted a hand in a gesture for silence, and pushed open the door at the end of the hall. The room was dark, lit only by a solitary candle, and for a moment Buffy saw nothing.
Then her eyes adjusted, and she saw everything.
Riley. Her Riley. Good, sensible, dependable Riley, sitting in a filthy armchair, his shirt crumpled on the floor. A girl knelt on the floor next to him, her head over his lap, and for a moment Buffy thought she was giving him a blow job. Then she realised what the girl was doing, and it was worse. She was a vampire, and she was feeding on his arm, her mouth making a horrible low sucking sound.
“Harder,” said Riley, in a voice Buffy barely recognised. It was guttural. Almost animal. “Do it harder.” Riley had never sounded like that when he was in bed with her, Buffy realised, and she gave a soft gasp of hurt.
Riley’s eyes met hers, and Buffy saw there a reflection of herself, of her guilt and shame and self-disgust. It was too much, and she turned and fled. On the way out she took out half a dozen vampires with furious efficiency, hands and feet blurring as she spun and kicked and staked.
She ran for a couple of blocks, heart racing, until she came to a deserted warehouse. Buffy pushed open the door and stepped inside. For a moment she stood still, her breath tearing in her lungs, and then with angry deliberation she punched the wall, driving her fist into the brick. Blood splashed her knuckles; but the wall looked worse.
“Make you feel any better, pet?”
“Go away, Spike,” she said in a tight voice, not bothering to turn around.
“Can think of other ways for you to work off that frustration,” Spike said, his voice light and mocking, and she whirled around, her face furious.
“What is this to you, just a game? This isn’t funny,” she spat.
“Well, not for you, it isn’t,” he said. “But it gives me a bit of a chuckle, I can tell you.”
“You’re a prick, Spike,” she said with weary disgust, leaning against the wall.
“Reckon I am, at that,” he said, closing the distance between them. He put a hand against her cheek. His fingers were cold against her rage-flushed skin, and she pushed his hand away.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
*
Buffy rolled her hips. Spike groaned as she rode him, her motion fast and furious. They were both still clothed; Spike’s flies were open, and Buffy’s panties had been pulled off, but that was all. She ground her hands into his t-shirt as she rocked, her fingers bunching the black cotton. She had closed her eyes tightly shut, and she ground her teeth together, her mouth opened into a snarl as she drove herself down onto him, his cock bruising her, filling her. Spike’s hand moved under her skirt and found her clit, his fingers rubbing her hard, painfully. Her moan sounded close to a growl as she jerked towards him, driving him to rub harder.
They came together with angry intensity, and as they did so the warehouse door opened.
“Oh, bollocks,” said Spike from beneath her, and Buffy opened her eyes, turning her head towards the door, already knowing who was there.
Riley stared at them both. The strange thing was that he barely looked shocked. Buffy pulled herself off Spike, leaving him to hastily tuck himself back into his jeans. She and Riley looked at each other for a long moment.
“They want me back, Buffy. The military.”
“The Initiative?” she asked after a moment, her voice strange. Too normal. He shook his head.
“No. It’s - something else. Deep undercover. No contact with civilians.”
“Are you going to go?” she asked quietly. How did she sound so calm? She felt as if she were watching herself have this encounter instead of it actually happening to her.
“I… Graham asked me if I had anything worth staying for. Do I?” he asked, looking at her. Buffy stared back at him. She couldn’t even begin to frame a reply. I don’t know, Riley. I don’t know what I feel about you, about anything. I had sex with Spike and it was the best sex I ever had and also the worst, because it’s made me hate myself. And I hate you sometimes, too, and sometimes I love you, and often I don’t think about you at all. But it was too hard to say that, and so she just stared at him, her face frozen. Riley’s jaw tightened and the corner of his mouth trembled. He gave his head one hard, jerking nod, and then he turned and headed out of the building.
As the door slammed shut behind him, the strange frozen sensation that had been holding Buffy melted, leaving behind it a feeling of intense panic. She ran for the door, pulling it open.
“Riley, wait!” she shouted, but the jeep was already roaring away, its tail lights disappearing into the distance.
Spike appeared at her shoulder.
“Don’t take it too hard, pet,” he said. “Captain Dependable wasn’t in it for the long haul. You and he both knew that, I reckon. ‘S why he went to a two-bit vampire troll, and you - Well, we know you need a little more monster in your man.”
Buffy turned to him. Her eyes were angry slits, and her face had gone white.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” Before Spike could answer, she punched him hard in the face, sending him flying into the wall. She stood over him as he lay slumped on the floor, pressing a hand to his bleeding nose. “Stay away from me,” she hissed, and stalked into the night.
Chapter: 4
Previous chapters: here
Summary: a darkly erotic twist on the events of “Fool For Love” and spinning off into an angstily Spuffy season 5.
Pairing: Spuffy, of course!
Thanks to: nemo_88 for the beautiful banner.
Rating/warnings: 18/NC-17. Angst and adult themes.
Word count: 2,291.
Since it’s been a long time, here is a summary of what happened in the previous three chapters…
Spike and Buffy’s sexually charged sparring match in Fool For Love led to an erotic encounter in her back yard. Buffy was disgusted with herself. The strain of her mother’s illness also began to tell on her. Eventually the sexual frustration became too much and Spike and Buffy had sex in a graveyard, which of course made Buffy even more guilty, and more withdrawn from Riley. Spike realised he had never really explained to Buffy the depth of his feelings for her. He went to her house to tell her he loved her. Meanwhile, Buffy had found out that her mother had a tumour. She allowed Spike to undress her, but he refused to have sex with her in a passive and unhappy state. She refused to tell him what was wrong, but allowed him to stay in her room until she fell asleep. This was where we left them: And so they lay, Buffy staring at the ceiling as Spike gazed at her face, until at last she fell asleep. Then Spike covered her naked body with a blanket and sat by the window smoking until the thin hour before dawn.
Buffy awoke slowly, tugging the covers over her bare shoulders that were goosepimpling slightly in the cool room. Bare shoulders? She blinked hard, puzzled, and then opened her eyes again, moving her legs against the blanket. Her legs were definitely bare too.
Then it came back to her. The crying and - Spike and - oh, God, was he still here? She sat up, protectively holding the blanket to her chest, but there was no one else in the room with her. The window stood open, explaining why she was cold, and on the sill lay a small row of cigarette butts. She stood up and went to the window, pulling down the sash, and she could smell a thin scent of smoke and bourbon. Her stomach tipped uncomfortably and she gave a low, rushing sigh. Then she pulled the curtains tightly closed and climbed back into bed.
She managed to avoid patrolling for a few days after that. The others didn’t ask why. Giles even said it was a good idea to take a break. She gave him a thin smile and let him think she was taking care of herself. One night she even let Riley make love to her. It was nice, mainly. She had a vague sense that once it had been more than just nice, but nice was still something. Comforting, almost. And not at all - wrong. Like certain other things had been.
Her mom went into surgery, and the whole scooby gang went to the hospital with Buffy. She felt simultaneously glad of and irritated by their presence. She hated the way they kept offering to fetch her things; if she had to drink another soda she’d scream. But all the same, she was glad she wasn’t sitting on a hard plastic chair all by herself.
Eventually the hours passed, and Dr Kriegel - kind, competent Dr Kriegel - appeared. She felt her heart in her chest. Really felt it, a physical pain pressing against the wall of her chest, making it hard to breathe.
“It was possible to visualize the tumor completely, which means I was able to get all of it. So, barring complications in recovery... I think your mother's going to be fine.”
Buffy felt her mouth open and close. Blood rushed in her ears, and she gave a small, yelping gulp. The relief was so great it was close to pain. She put her arms around the doctor, almost crushing him with the force of that relief.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she murmured into his white coat, until he gave a sound of protest and she flushed, smiling in embarrassment and joy. Mom would be ok. Everything would be ok. She could put all of this behind her. All - Everything.
*
Spike stood outside the Summers house, smoking his way through his sixth cigarette. It was stupid, being here. Stupid and masochistic, and whilst Spike acknowledged he was love’s bitch, this was going a bit far. Being here, knowing she was up there, screwing that lunkheaded prat - it was unbearable. But he couldn’t tear himself away. Had to twist the knife in his chest just a little bit more.
Dawn had broken the great news to him. She had appeared at his crypt, bubbling over with happiness, and at first he’d been swept along with it. It had been a while since he’d seen the Bit truly happy, and it made him smile. Then she had dropped the bombshell.
“I’m headed over to Xander’s,” she said, shrugging her bag back onto her shoulder. “Buffy suggested it. She said it would be fun for me. But I know it’s totally so she can boink Riley.”
It had hurt. Course, Spike wasn’t stupid. He knew Buffy was still going out with Captain America, so what did he expect, that they’d play canasta? Yet it still hurt, hearing it spelled out like that. He’d sort of hoped that after the other night that… What, Buffy would dump Riley for him? Not bloody likely. Couldn’t stop him wanting it, though. Love wasn’t about thinking sensibly, after all. So here he was, standing underneath her window like soddin’ Romeo, ‘cept in this case Juliet was shagging boring Paris and Romeo was going to have to go home and have a solitary wank.
Eventually the low sounds, just about within Spike’s hearing range, stopped. He smoked another cigarette and wondered when he should call it quits and bugger off home. Just as he was ready to grind out his fag and set off, the front door opened. His first reaction was disappointment when he realised it was Riley instead of Buffy. Then he felt curious. What was the tank commander doing out of bed? He was the clingy sort; shouldn’t he be wrapped around his Buffy now?
Silently, Spike slipped out from behind the tree and began to follow.
*
Buffy rolled over. The space next to her was cool… and empty.
“Riley?”
“I’ve got something I need to show you.”
Not Riley. She sat up, then realised she was naked. Having given Spike an eyeful of breasts, she pulled the sheet up to her chin.
“Spike, what the hell are you doing here?” she said, trying to ignore the way her stomach had lurched as he had given her chest an appraising look.
“Told you. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Spike, just because I’m naked doesn’t mean I’m going to -”
“Wasn’t talking about that kind of showing, pet, but if you’re in the mood -”
“Tell me what you’re talking about now or I swear to God I will stake you,” said Buffy tightly. Her heart was thumping hard. God, she was pathetic. One sleazy comment from Spike and she was practically panting over him. What was wrong with her?
“Can’t tell you,” he said. “Have to show you. Get dressed.”
Buffy stared at him.
“Oh, right. I’m not s’posed to look. Not like it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he smirked, but turned around. Buffy quickly slid out of bed, pulling on the first things that came to hand, and they set off into the night.
“If this is a ruse to get me on my own, Spike -” she started saying, after they had walked for a while in silence. Spike waved a hand to shush her.
“We’re here,” he said, stopping outside a dilapidated warehouse.
“This had better be worth it,” said Buffy grimly.
“Oh, I think it will be,” said Spike, his tone unreadable, and he pushed the door open.
Buffy stared around her in a slow horror. The place was littered with trash, rusted bath tubs and fallen masonry mixed up with empty pizza boxes. It managed to smell both acrid and musty. Worse, though, were the people. Lying on stained mattresses, pressed against the wall, they were letting vampires drink from them. Letting them. Buffy was automatically reaching for her stake, but Spike put a hand on her arm.
“Leave ‘em, Slayer. That’s not what we’re here for.”
Spike stepped over a couple entwined on the floor and led her up a rickety staircase. Buffy felt oddly afraid. She was certain somehow that she was going to see something very bad here. There was a low, sick feeling in her stomach; a similar sensation to the feeling she’d had the morning she’d cooked breakfast for her mom and Joyce had mentioned CAT scans for the first time. She had a strong impulse to just turn around and run down the stairs, but she forced herself to keep walking. She was the Slayer. The Slayer didn’t run away.
Spike reached the end of a long hallway. She could barely see him in the gloom, only taking in his silhouette and the gleam of his white hair. Buffy could, however, tell that he had stopped moving. She kept walking towards him, and he stayed still.
“There’s nothing he-” she began. Spike lifted a hand in a gesture for silence, and pushed open the door at the end of the hall. The room was dark, lit only by a solitary candle, and for a moment Buffy saw nothing.
Then her eyes adjusted, and she saw everything.
Riley. Her Riley. Good, sensible, dependable Riley, sitting in a filthy armchair, his shirt crumpled on the floor. A girl knelt on the floor next to him, her head over his lap, and for a moment Buffy thought she was giving him a blow job. Then she realised what the girl was doing, and it was worse. She was a vampire, and she was feeding on his arm, her mouth making a horrible low sucking sound.
“Harder,” said Riley, in a voice Buffy barely recognised. It was guttural. Almost animal. “Do it harder.” Riley had never sounded like that when he was in bed with her, Buffy realised, and she gave a soft gasp of hurt.
Riley’s eyes met hers, and Buffy saw there a reflection of herself, of her guilt and shame and self-disgust. It was too much, and she turned and fled. On the way out she took out half a dozen vampires with furious efficiency, hands and feet blurring as she spun and kicked and staked.
She ran for a couple of blocks, heart racing, until she came to a deserted warehouse. Buffy pushed open the door and stepped inside. For a moment she stood still, her breath tearing in her lungs, and then with angry deliberation she punched the wall, driving her fist into the brick. Blood splashed her knuckles; but the wall looked worse.
“Make you feel any better, pet?”
“Go away, Spike,” she said in a tight voice, not bothering to turn around.
“Can think of other ways for you to work off that frustration,” Spike said, his voice light and mocking, and she whirled around, her face furious.
“What is this to you, just a game? This isn’t funny,” she spat.
“Well, not for you, it isn’t,” he said. “But it gives me a bit of a chuckle, I can tell you.”
“You’re a prick, Spike,” she said with weary disgust, leaning against the wall.
“Reckon I am, at that,” he said, closing the distance between them. He put a hand against her cheek. His fingers were cold against her rage-flushed skin, and she pushed his hand away.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
*
Buffy rolled her hips. Spike groaned as she rode him, her motion fast and furious. They were both still clothed; Spike’s flies were open, and Buffy’s panties had been pulled off, but that was all. She ground her hands into his t-shirt as she rocked, her fingers bunching the black cotton. She had closed her eyes tightly shut, and she ground her teeth together, her mouth opened into a snarl as she drove herself down onto him, his cock bruising her, filling her. Spike’s hand moved under her skirt and found her clit, his fingers rubbing her hard, painfully. Her moan sounded close to a growl as she jerked towards him, driving him to rub harder.
They came together with angry intensity, and as they did so the warehouse door opened.
“Oh, bollocks,” said Spike from beneath her, and Buffy opened her eyes, turning her head towards the door, already knowing who was there.
Riley stared at them both. The strange thing was that he barely looked shocked. Buffy pulled herself off Spike, leaving him to hastily tuck himself back into his jeans. She and Riley looked at each other for a long moment.
“They want me back, Buffy. The military.”
“The Initiative?” she asked after a moment, her voice strange. Too normal. He shook his head.
“No. It’s - something else. Deep undercover. No contact with civilians.”
“Are you going to go?” she asked quietly. How did she sound so calm? She felt as if she were watching herself have this encounter instead of it actually happening to her.
“I… Graham asked me if I had anything worth staying for. Do I?” he asked, looking at her. Buffy stared back at him. She couldn’t even begin to frame a reply. I don’t know, Riley. I don’t know what I feel about you, about anything. I had sex with Spike and it was the best sex I ever had and also the worst, because it’s made me hate myself. And I hate you sometimes, too, and sometimes I love you, and often I don’t think about you at all. But it was too hard to say that, and so she just stared at him, her face frozen. Riley’s jaw tightened and the corner of his mouth trembled. He gave his head one hard, jerking nod, and then he turned and headed out of the building.
As the door slammed shut behind him, the strange frozen sensation that had been holding Buffy melted, leaving behind it a feeling of intense panic. She ran for the door, pulling it open.
“Riley, wait!” she shouted, but the jeep was already roaring away, its tail lights disappearing into the distance.
Spike appeared at her shoulder.
“Don’t take it too hard, pet,” he said. “Captain Dependable wasn’t in it for the long haul. You and he both knew that, I reckon. ‘S why he went to a two-bit vampire troll, and you - Well, we know you need a little more monster in your man.”
Buffy turned to him. Her eyes were angry slits, and her face had gone white.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” Before Spike could answer, she punched him hard in the face, sending him flying into the wall. She stood over him as he lay slumped on the floor, pressing a hand to his bleeding nose. “Stay away from me,” she hissed, and stalked into the night.