Written for Caia.
NC17. Contains both Spike/Faith and Spike/Buffy and the barest hint of Faith/Buffy
He's Hers
As far as post-patrol activities went, conversation wasn’t high on
Spike’s list. And his expression must have said so because she asked:
“You’re upset?”
He snorted. “Do I look upset?”
“Yeah. You do.”
“Probably am, then,” he shrugged.
That earned him an almost-suppressed eye-roll from the woman in front of him. “You know we can’t deal with this by ourselves.”
“If you say so, Slayer.”
Standing from the bar stool, he walked into the hall and picked up his coat.
“Don’t!”
He looked a question back at her as he slid the coat on and pulled
cigarettes and lighter out. She seemed to hesitate on what to say,
giving up on trying to hold him back and settling instead for a request
she hadn’t voiced – hadn’t needed to voice – for several months.
“Don’t call me that.”
“You don’t want me to call you Slayer,” he exhaled with a puff of
smoke. “I didn’t want you to call them for help. Guess that makes two
of us screwed, Faith. And not in the good way.”
The apartment door banged shut behind him, two flight of steps and the
building door received the same treatment. It was snowing. Again. Damn
Cleveland and its weather from hell.
*****
It wasn’t the first time Spike didn’t sleep at her apartment. Heck, it
wasn’t even the tenth time. Faith was used to it, to him, to his mood
swinging faster than they could rip each other’s clothes off. She
didn’t mind. Really. She didn’t. He would be back, she was sure of it.
He always was.
He had shown up almost a year before, two days after Christmas. He had
seemed as surprised to run across her as she had been to see him there.
By New Year’s Eve, she knew what had happened to him, he knew how she
had ended up as Cleveland’s keeper, and they had started fucking. It
wasn’t anything more than that. It really wasn’t. They both needed to
unwind after patrolling, and this worked fine for both. No need for
either of them to pretend that they were anything else than a Slayer
and a vampire; no need to pretend being interested in commitment. No
need for small talk or promises. And if they sometimes argued about the
best way to deal with a nest or who would be on top, they always made
up. Spike always came back.
And he would this time too.
*****
When he had left the apartment, Spike hadn’t intended to be back, not
for a long while, if ever. But sometime between his seventh cigarette
and his fourth beer, he remembered that his car was hopelessly dead,
and that the crypt he had been using as back up was now the home of a
peaceful but not entirely friendly family of unidentified demons.
He had grown complacent; he could admit that to himself. It had been
too easy to fall into habits with Faith. Patrolling, fucking, little if
any talking, watching the telly side by side, more fucking, getting
drunk together… Easy. No need to think, no need to feel, just live and
enjoy the moment. He should have known it wouldn’t last. The one thing
he had ever asked from her – not to call the rest of the gang for help
as they expected some nasty business soon – she had ignored. Somehow,
that hurt more than it should have.
Sunrise was near when he left his dirty, snowy boots by the entrance.
She hadn’t locked the door, as usual. Her answer to his refusal about
having a key. He considered the couch for a moment, but eventually
stripped and joined her in bed.
*****
Faith awoke at the instant the front door creaked open, and she waited
with bated breath to see if he would come to her. And he did.
Without making any effort toward silence or gentleness, he slipped into
bed, naked judging by the noises of clothes falling to the floor before
the mattress dipped under his weight. The message was clear. He didn’t
care whether she was awake or not. And he didn’t care that she was even
in the bed, if the way he remained on his side of the bed rather than
hunt down her warmth as he usually did was to be believed.
She lay there, silent, eyes open in the darkness, hyperaware of his
presence but consciously not touching him, until light started seeping
on the edges of the Venetian blinds.
“I didn’t have a choice,” she said eventually, instinctively knowing
that he wasn’t sleeping. He did not answer. “I had to call them. What’s
the sense in getting ourselves killed if we can simply ask for backup?”
Still, there was no answer, and Faith gritted her teeth.
“Told them about me?” came at last his reaction.
She winced in the dark. “I didn’t have to. They knew.”
Spike swore.
*****
Faith had left hours ago for that class she was taking at the local
community college, and Spike had only moved to get the cigarettes and
lighter in his shirt’s pocket before lying down again. He hadn’t even
lit one, and was simply playing with the lighter, rhythmically zapping
the small flame in and out of existence. It was a little like him… one
second human, the next vampire. One century of mayhem, then the chip.
Drusilla, then Buffy. Dead in a fury of flames, then undead again. One
hellmouth, then another. Like this flame dying and burning at the mercy
of his thumb.
God, but his metaphors still sucked.
No need for metaphors to realize that the comfortable routine he had
eased himself into during the past few months was in jeopardy.
He didn’t doubt one minute that Faith didn’t give a damn about what the
new Council or whatever they were called now could think of her
sleeping arrangements. But he knew, with just as much certainty, that
the disapproval would be there when the reinforcements came, whether
blatant or subdued, and he had played that game too long already, he
wasn’t interested in another round.
*****
When she had asked for help, Faith hadn’t been very particular on her
request. There was some bad mojo coming on to the Cleveland Hellmouth,
she needed backup, and with hundreds of Slayers now on its roll the
Council could afford to send a couple her way.
She never expected that they would send fifteen Slayers, along with
five Watchers. She had never expected either that it would be Buffy
leading the troops.
And that was how she found herself slack jawed in Cleveland Hopkins
International, facing twenty-one people when she had expected two or
three. Her brain went on overdrive as she tried to find housing
solutions – the sofa just wasn’t going to cut it. She must have voiced
the thought out loud because Buffy gave her a tight smile.
“Don’t worry about it. We have hotel reservations.”
“Oh. Of course.”
She would need to think about asking for a raise; if the Council could
afford airplane fares and hotel rooms for more than twenty people, they
could certainly pay for her car.
A bit numb, she guided everyone toward the baggage claim area. Only
when Buffy asked, trying and failing to sound cool about it, whether
Spike was around, did Faith realize the kind of mess she had stepped in.
*****
Buffy had known Spike was alive ever since Andrew had come back from LA
with the news. She had waited for him to come to her. She had even
tried to lure him with jealousy tricks from grade school. It had all
been for nothing. He hadn’t come.
And then, almost by accident, she had learned that he had been sighted in Cleveland. Working with Faith.
Living with Faith.
It had hurt. More than she would have imagined it would.
But she tried to put all that behind her when she asked Faith if they
could patrol together that night, two Slayers on the Hellmouth as they
had done what felt like centuries before. And when she agreed, it was
only natural to ask if Spike would be there when Buffy picked Faith up,
as she wanted to say hi to him.
And saying hi was basically all they did. He looked at the same time as
though he was drinking the sight of her and as though he’d rather not
have looked at her at all. With Faith only a couple of steps away,
Buffy refrained from reaching out to him.
“I’m glad you’re OK,” she told him, and the words were anything but adequate.
*****
“You and Spike have been… partners for long?”
“Partners, Buff? Is that what it’s called these days?”
“I don’t know. What would you call it?”
“Not sure. Partners is probably right. And I’d think your sources told you when it started.”
“My sources? You make it sound like I’ve been spying on you.”
“Haven’t you?”
“God, no! Of course not!.”
“Hey, don’t get excited, I’m just asking. In your place, I’d have kept tabs on my ex if I still had feelings for him.”
“Is that what you think is going on?”
“I’m not blind, Buffy. I’ve seen how you look at him.”
*****
“What are you on about, now?”
“Oh, come on, Spike. Don’t play the innocent act. I’ve already heard it from Buffy, I don’t need your version too.”
“And I tell you I don’t know…”
“You don’t know that you look at her like she’s naked and you haven’t touched a woman in ten years?”
“I don’t…”
“You do. I knew you would, I mean, I never deluded myself…”
“Faith…”
“… but at least you could pretend when...”
“Faith!”
“What?”
“Whose bed am I in?”
“Mine. But for how long?”
“Probably longer if you stop that nonsense now.”
*****
The near apocalypse came, not soon enough as far as Faith was
concerned. The faster they fought the big uglies, the faster Buffy
would pack her bags and her baby Slayers, return to Europe and leave
the Hellmouth to her care.
And yeah, leave Spike to her care, too.
The fight was a mess. Too much happening all at once, it was hard to
follow what was going on, and for a while Faith fought without trying
to see what the others were doing. But eventually, she caught a flash
of black leather and peroxided hair amongst that mess, and she took a
second to gloat to herself that this man, currently fighting three
demons at once on the growing pile of those he had already killed, was
her lover. Her partner, as Buffy called him. Hers.
Her smile faded when she noticed who had his back. She should have
expected it, she told herself as she started fighting again, but that
didn’t stop the rage from filling her veins. And every time she got a
glimpse of them, every time she noticed how fucking well they fought
together even after all this time, she wanted to shout, and weep, and
just remind that bitch that Spike was hers. Not Buffy’s.
*****
Buffy wasn’t sure how she ended up going to Faith’s apartment after the
fight. She was exhausted, they all were, but Spike’s offer of a drink
together to celebrate the victory was impossible to refuse. Even if she
didn’t really drink alcohol. Even if Faith’s glare spelled quite
clearly that she wasn’t inviting Buffy or offering anything.
Beers were produced and they sat in the kitchen, the three of them. The
conversation however was two sided, as she and Spike reminisced on old
battles, old big bads they had fought together. It was easy to forget
Faith was there. Easy to forget everything that had ever gone wrong
between Spike and her. Easy to forget that he had moved on, and so had
she. Hadn’t she?
It wasn’t just the words. It was the way he looked at her, and yes, now
she understood what Faith had meant. His eyes never left her. It was
the way he smiled, too, like he was happy. She hadn’t seen him smile
like that very often. And after the way they had so easily found their
marks earlier and protected each other’s back, Buffy felt as though
they had never said goodbye.
*****
Tired of watching the two birds play, Faith jumped in, and reclaimed
her rights. Reclaimed him, right in front of Buffy, with a kiss and
roaming hands that didn’t take long to get his full attention.
“I think it’s time for bed,” she said with a smile, maybe a little too
bright, directed at Buffy. “Just call yourself a cab, and you know your
way out.”
Rude, yes, and Buffy’s frown said as much, but she couldn’t have cared
less. Spike was hers. He had come to her, not to Buffy after he had
left Los Angeles. He had fought with her, lived with her, fucked her
most nights, and then again most days, for months. She was not –
emphasis on the not – letting anyone steal him right from under her
nose.
He didn’t protest when she led him away from the kitchen and into their
bedroom, her mouth on his the whole way, kissing, nibbling, licking,
biting, the kind of kisses that she knew drove him wild. She wanted
wild, right now. She wanted him to forget everything that wasn’t her.
And she wanted to do the same.
And it worked, because she forgot to close the bedroom door.
*****
Faith’s actions weren’t all that unexpected, especially after the talk
they had had that first night, but they still took Buffy by surprise.
She had been enjoying Spike’s company, just chatting, just feeling good
with him, and now she felt… bereft.
The way Faith had recaptured his attention and taken him away didn’t help, far from it.
And neither did the small sounds she could hear, coming from their
bedroom. Gasps, moans, indistinct murmurs… They were like a beacon,
calling to her, and slow step after slow step Buffy followed their
lead, until she was in front of the bedroom door. The not quite closed
bedroom door. And through the gap, she could see them, on the bed.
She had missed Spike – God, how much she had – and seeing him in the
last couple of days had been like a balm on a painful itch. This
however… To see him make love to someone else, to see his hands and
cock play another’s body as they had once played hers… it made her miss
him even more intensely. It made her remember his touch, and crave it
more than she ever had during these long and lonely nights.
*****
It was the scent of her arousal that first gave away her presence, but
Spike tried to ignore it, tried to ignore her, and concentrated solely
on the woman in front of him. Faith was writhing under him, trying to
get the upper hand but he wasn’t letting her, one hand pinning both of
hers above her head, the other pinching and caressing her nipples in
turn as he continued to thrust into her, long, slow thrusts, too slow
for her, for both of them, but somehow he wanted to make this last.
She could have taken over, they both knew it, but the fact that she
wasn’t told Spike that she didn’t mind the slow pace as much as her
words could have made him believe.
Buffy’s scent became too hard to ignore though, as did her shallow
breathing and small, almost inaudible moans, and each of them spurred
him on until he was pounding into Faith, hard and fast, rushing the
both of them toward bliss. She came with a shout of his name; his own
cry was wordless.
Only then did he turn toward Buffy, surprised that she was still there.
Surprised, even more, that she came to him when his hand rose toward
her.
*****
Over the time they had spent together, Spike had never left Faith
wanting. He took his pleasure when they fucked, but he also never
failed to make her come, to the point that it sometimes seemed he took
pride in his skills.
But as, satiated and her body still humming from her high, Faith
watched him worship Buffy with hands, mouth, tongue and cock, it became
all too clear that he had never touched her quite like that. That he
had never even looked at her like that. That no one ever had.
And she wanted it. She wanted to be loved and desired like Buffy was at
that moment. Once more, she wanted what Buffy had, and it was a very
bitter realization to see that she was back to square one.
Tentatively, she reached out to them, caressing him, and her, trying to
get in on their game, trying to be included at last instead of being
left to watch from behind the window. But both of them were oblivious
to her touch, too lost in each other to notice anything. She gave up
and left the bed, unable to watch them any longer and witness what she
would never have.
*****
Months before, Spike would have given the world to wake up like this,
curled up in bed with a naked Buffy, her breath a slow tickle against
his collarbone. They had fucked often enough, but back then she always
ran off before giving either of them the chance to fall asleep. And the
couple of times she had actually slept in his arms in the past, before
the battle, nothing had happened. Was it really the first time he had
ever had this?
This realization made him tense, and he carefully extricated himself
from her arms. Picking up his clothes and dressing quickly, he left the
room without a glance back. She would never accept him fully in her
life; he knew it. He refused to delude himself and accept the crumbs
she was willing to give. Once upon a time, he would have taken them;
not anymore.
On his way out, he saw Faith, in the living room. She was curled on the
sofa, and watching the telly with the sound cut off. Their eyes met for
a brief second, and, when she looked like she was about to say
something, he turned on his heels and left.
*****
As she awoke, surprise was the first thing Buffy felt. Surprise that Spike wasn’t in bed with her.
And then, relief that neither was Faith. She shook the goose bumps off;
she had wanted Spike, Faith had just happened to be there. And now,
they were both gone. She stood, dressed and slipped out of the bedroom,
hoping to find him, and more than a little disappointed to find her
instead, in the living room, watching television.
“Hi,” Buffy said, uncomfortable and not quite meeting Faith’s eyes.
“Hey.”
“Is Spike around?”
“He left.”
Buffy frowned. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
Faith shrugged, and returned her attention to the television. Buffy
hesitated for an instant, unsure as to what to say or do. She needed to
get back to the hotel, at least to get a change of clothes.
“Could you give him a message when he comes back?”
Faith didn’t look at her, but her jaw tightened visibly. The tension –
no, not tension, it was more than that… grief? – was present in her
voice too when she coldly said: “I doubt either of us will ever see him
again. He’s gone, Buffy. And this time for good.”