A Loss of Pride by Mabel Marsters

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 :: 11 :: 12 :: 13 :: 14 :: 15 :: 16 :: 17 :: 18 :: 19 :: 20 :: 21 :: 22 :: 23 :: 24 :: 25 :: 26 :: 27 :: 28 :: 29 :: 30 :: 31 :: 32 :: 33 :: 34 :: 35 :: 36 :: 37 :: 38 :: 39 :: 40 :: 41 :: 42 ::

Chapter 41: Learning To Deal…

When Spike didn’t emerge from his bedroom after thirty minutes Brad went and knocked on the door. Getting no answer he slowly pushed it open. Spike was sitting on the edge of the bed, head low, staring at the phone in his hands. He glanced up as Brad walked towards him.

“I hit her.”

Brad bit back the retort that she’d allowed him to be chained to the floor of a goddamn cage, deciding that it would be hardly helpful.

“I know, but it was the addiction that made you.”

Spike looked back at the phone.

“But I hit her, I attacked her, I…”

Brad sat next to him on the bed and gently took the phone from his hands.

“She’s all right though. She loves you. She knows it wasn’t your fault,” said Brad.

Spike shook his head. “I hit her. I hurt the girl. Promised I never would and now I have.” His face crumpled and tears began to fall.

Brad watched in dismay. Spike had been doing so well that morning. He tried to talk to him but Spike seemed to withdraw and didn’t acknowledge his presence. When Spike curled up into a ball on the bed Brad knew that he wasn’t the one who could help him this time. He walked into the lounge before dialling the number. It was answered almost immediately.

“Yes?”

“He needs you,” said Brad simply.

He got no reply as the connection was cut off but he knew that she’d be there as soon as she could. A couple of minutes later there was a knock at the door. Frowning he went to open it wondering who it could be. No way could she have gotten here so soon. His eyes widened at the sight.

“Buffy! How did you get here so quickly?” He glanced around as if he expected to see something strange.

She smiled, “No weird tricks, Brad. I’ve been outside of the building since Spike hung up on me but I didn’t have the nerve to come up until you called.”

“Oh,” said Brad in relief, “Glad to see that teleportation is still in the realms of science fiction.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“No? Really? It happens?”

“Yeah, some demons can do it and witches too.”

“Christ.”

“So where is he? Why did you call me?”

“Um…oh…sorry,” stuttered Brad, “I found him after he’d spoken with you. He just kept going on about hitting you and something about hurting the girl.” He noticed Buffy stiffen. “You know what he means by it?”

“Yes,” replied Buffy, “It refers to something that happened a long time ago. Where is he?”

Brad showed her to the room and then left them alone. Her heart missed a beat when she saw Spike huddled on the bed.

“Spike?” she said softly as she sat next to him, “Baby, look at me, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt the girl. That was a long time ago, not now.”

He shook his head, “Spike’s a bad man. He hurt the girl.”

“Spike, look at me. See where we are. We’re in LA at Brad and Laura’s apartment. Come on, look at me, then you can see that I’m not hurt at all.”

His tearstained face looked up at her and his eyes met hers. “I hit you,” he whispered.

“Shh, I know but it’s okay. It really is.”

“I hit you. I hurt you. You’re right not to trust me,” he said, still somehow locked in the past.

“Slayer here, yeah? I’m tough and anyway you hit like a…a…ponce,” she said with a grin, pleased that she remembered the English insult.

Spike’s eyes widened a little and he sat up.

“You didn’t hurt me, Spike. You just got me out of your way so that you could get the blood. The other was a long time ago and you remember that I’ve forgiven you for that, don’t you? It’s the blood’s fault; Nemol’s fault, not yours.” She reached out and took his hand. “We’re in LA, not Sunnydale. I trust you with my life, Spike.”

Spike stared at her. She could practically see him trying to work things out in his head.

“It’s not like I haven’t hit you plenty of times, is it? I’ve damn near dusted you more times than enough. Remember that time in the alley behind the police station? I beat you to a pulp and all you were doing was trying to help me.” She stroked his hand.

“Nemol’s dead,” murmured Spike.

“Yeah, he couldn’t be deader,” replied Buffy, “I saw to that. No one gets away with kidnapping, selling and torturing my boyfriend.”

Spike gasped and pulled his hand away.

“What?”

“You said that to him.”

“Yeah, I did, right before…”

“You cut off his knackers.”

“And don’t forget the hand,” added Buffy, “Though that was a fluke. Didn’t aim for it. Hey, how do you know? I never told you the details.”

“Um…I had a dream last night,” said Spike, “I was back there but the Polgara had bought me, not George.”

“You had a dream?” said Buffy incredulously, “I had a dream too, that the Polgara had bought you and I went in and…”

“Rescued me. You threw an axe at the Polgara’s head and then you went for Nemol…”

“But I gave you the axe…”

“And I cut the bastard’s head off,” finished Spike.

They stared at each other. How could it be possible?

“But I wasn’t in time to stop you being hurt. In my dream Nemol had cut your leg before I got there.”

Spike pulled up the leg of his jeans until Buffy could see the dressing that Brad had put on over the sutures. She reached out and touched it gently with her fingers.

“That wasn’t there before…how…?”

“It happened last night during the dream.”

“But that would mean that…” said Buffy.

“The dream was real.”

“It couldn’t be though, could it? I mean that’s not how it actually happened. I wasn’t the one to get to you first,” said Buffy tearfully, “I was too focussed on killing Nemol to come to find you. And then…and then I nearly killed you by making you go through that door. If it hadn’t been for Brad…”

Spike pulled her into his arms, their roles reversed. He now was the one to offer comfort. His mind was safely back to the present.

“Shh, pet, you weren’t to know and you did save me. You always do. I’m no good without you.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and pulled her towards him until their lips met. She melted into his body.

“Oh, Spike,” she murmured, kissing him deeply.

Spike’s doubts and self-loathing were forgotten as he kissed Buffy. Aware only of her. He knew that they’d be all right, that he’d be all right. Somehow between them they had killed the demon haunting Spike and he felt he could move on as long as she was there to ground him.

Spike grinned at her and rolled them both over until they were lying on the bed, its springs pinging in protest. His hand went under her top, reaching for the fastener on her bra.

“What about Brad?” asked Buffy, aware that the apartment was small and not wanting to have him able to hear them. She was never very quiet; she couldn’t help it.

Both laughed as, as soon as the words were out of Buffy’s mouth, Brad called saying that he was going out for a couple of hours and that he had the cell if they needed him before that.

“I like Brad,” said Spike, smirking up at Buffy who was straddling him.

“I think that I might love him,” chuckled Buffy, “Don’t worry, nowhere near as much as I love you.”

Spike put a hand behind her head and drew her into another kiss.

“I know,” he said quietly, understanding that she felt just as strongly as he did for her. “Hey, did you call me a bloody ponce?”

With a flick of his fingers Buffy’s bra popped open. She’d never known anyone able to undo a bra with one hand as deftly as Spike could.

“No, I said that you hit like one.”

She took off her top and then her bra and leaned down to kiss him. She moaned as he brushed his lips against her erect nipples. Then put his arms around her waist and an instant later she was beneath him.

“I can do all the work now, pet. I’ll show you that I’m no bleeding ponce!” He grinned at her.

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that he had nothing to prove to her but she stopped herself. He needed to do this and she was more than happy to let him. She tugged at his jeans.

“About time that you lost a few layers, Spike.”

He shifted, undid his jeans and slid out of them. Her eyes were drawn to how lean his body was, with not an ounce of spare flesh on him. She wriggled out of her own pants, both giggling as they got stuck on the shoes she’d forgotten to discard. Spike grumbled under his breath as he fumbled to get them off.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” she teased, stroking her breast as he looked up.

Spike finally dragged the clothes off her.

“Come here, wench,” he said, pulling her down the bed towards him.

“Some sweet talker you are,” stated Buffy sarcastically, “Y…”

She couldn’t finish as Spike’s questing fingers found their mark and his mouth locked onto hers. His tongue demanded admittance; she yielded willingly, her hands reaching down to stroke him. She smiled as his erection jumped at her touch.

“I think this is wanting to be someplace,” she said, opening her legs wider and inviting him in.

Spike’s eyes bored into hers as he entered her, both of them arching their backs at the sensation.

“Oh, God, Buffy,” he muttered breathlessly, then he smirked as she was unable to speak as his fingers continued to stimulate her in time to his thrusts.

The rhythm increased and their world narrowed until all it consisted of was the bed and each other.

As they lay in each other’s arms after following their frenetic lovemaking with a slower version, they were grateful that Brad still hadn’t returned despite being gone for well over two hours.

“Welcome back, Spike,” sighed Buffy, resting her head on his chest.

“If that’s what I get when I’ve been away, I think I’d better go away again more often,” joked Spike, grunting as she elbowed him in the ribs.

A half hour after they’d finally disentangled from each other and showered, Brad arrived home, knocking loudly on the door before walking in.

“You’d better be decent by now!” he called, “I’d really like to be able to sit in my lounge for a bit.”

“Yeah, mate, you’re safe,” laughed Spike when Brad found them sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. “Want one?”

“No thanks. I walked about for a while and then I hit Starbucks. I think it’ll be a week before I can sleep,” replied Brad.

“Thanks Brad,” said Buffy, “And I mean for everything.”

“Yeah…well…it’s okay,” said Brad, looking embarrassed. “Are you okay, Spike?”

“I think so. My head feels clearer than it did. There’s one thing though.” He glanced at Buffy. “No offence to Peaches but I really don’t want to go back to the Hyperion. The place has caused me nothing but pain. Was bad enough being there with the memory of the Shanshu kicking in but now…”

“What was that like?” asked Brad curiously, “How did it feel to become human again?”

“Like bleeding everything that happens to me, it soddin’ hurt,” replied Spike wryly.

“Hey!” protested Buffy.

Spike smirked, “It’s okay, love. You make it hurt in all the right places.”

“Too much information!” yelled Brad.

“Sorry, mate,” said Spike, actually anything but. “It hurt then it just felt really weird you know, feeling my heart start pumping. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins for a while. I’m glad that faded away.”

“Why didn’t you want it?” asked Brad.

“Lots of reasons but mostly ‘cause I’d wanted so badly to be the man that Buffy deserved and then I died and I thought that she’d moved on so I never got in touch. Wanted her to be happy…”

“I couldn’t be happy without you,” interrupted Buffy, reaching out and holding his hand.

Spike smiled at her, his eyes full of love, “I know that now, pet. But back then I didn’t want to be human if I couldn’t be with you. I could do more good as a vampire. I didn’t want to be weak.”

“But you’re more than human, aren’t you?” said Brad.

“I seem to be but I didn’t know it then.” He turned to Buffy, “And you said that I hit like a ponce.”

“You’re not going to let that drop, are you?” she laughed, “I’ll get you up to snuff in no time. You just need to do some training and sparring.”

Spike quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head, “Wouldn’t mind the sparring.”

Submit a Review!