Summing Blue

By: Lizerrrbeathan
Summary:  Takes place during 'Something Blue'--Spike intuits time running out and pressure Buffy to consummate their relationship before the wedding. Warning:  Not PWP--but the male/female thing is a big part of this 'heart to heart chat.'
Disclaimer: Fiction for private sharing only.  Author owns nothing of BTVS, no commercial or trade purpose is intended to infringe on copyright held by official parties.
Rating: NC17
Contact:  Sure.

 

It was the shock of being deep inside her--hot velvet slick and so tight, so tight he had had to push slowly but insistently to get all the way inside.  He had stretched himself all the way inside her, crooning quietly, talking her through, all the way through to being all the way inside.  It was the shock of being completely surrounded--it was his last stand and he was encircled by the enemy; he was completely surrounded--she would end him she would, she would end who he was…in that moment of shock he shook--he had a flash--he had a premonition of his future--lap dog licking begging to lick her sweet juice, begging for a drop, living to service, and then a brokenback brokenheart journey for better and so long away from her golden body and then years down the road, years to win her, loving her on a basement floor, loving her to his death--he was inside her and hands up!--she had him surrounded--but he would go down fighting…he would take her with him--he began to thrust because just five minutes ago he had been--

--Like a randy teenage boy he had begged his almost virgin girl, his bride to be to let him in now, oh god please, Buffy, please…we’re getting married, you know I love you…and then no more words just his silent hard body begging against hers as she sat on him in the chair.

Giles had passed out on the couch.  Combo scotch and fatigue and prayer for oblivion had been answered and now all Buffy could be aware of, was the rock hard request, Spike’s cock begging her, begging her, she could feel it press up against the fabric of his jeans pushing, twitching at her entranceway trying to find a way to get inside.

It sent strange frissons of electrical hot current shooting up through her body--his kisses had been exciting, lovely and passionate in turn, but this…this was the real thing, the thing beyond playing, and teasing…

He said nothing just put his head in the crook of her neck taunt like a bow ready to snap, ready to cry…the silent (…please…please…)

Buffy was scared, she really was, sex with Angel had been sweet and nice but…then…but then…disaster complete disaster and it was only once, just that one time--so how could sex not equal bad somewhere in the machinery of her mind? 

But she loved Spike, she did, she felt it sure and safe like something, some treasure you had hid so well, buried so deep somewhere when you were eight years old and even if you went back now, right now, back to that old house, that old neighborhood where you lived, you would still be able to find it buried there, exactly where it had been left--that small sweet secret kept safe.

And she wanted to please him and god!  What was that hot tightness in her lower belly, her body was already sopping, staining the surface of her jeans, as her wet juice seeped it’s way down to greet his cock--he groaned like his body was breaking…

“I know you’re scared luv…and it might hurt a bit at first…but let me love you Buffy, let me inside you…can’t bear it out here alone, god I’m so lonely for you….please…please…”

Without another word she had gotten up, taken him by the hand and went into Giles spare bedroom off the ground level bathroom.

It was hurried and rough and an almost crying Spike pushed her down on the floor not even making it to the bed.  He seemed to be scrambling against her clothes as if not knowing how to get past them to his Buffy.

He finally worked her shoes off, stunned, she lay still as he pulled her slacks and panties off, unzipping himself, his engorged member sprang free looking for the hole--find the hole, find the hole--Oh god help me find the hole--he pulled her knees apart.  She still lay still on the floor watching him struggle to find her--Oh god! He was inside--He’s inside me!

He had worked the head of his cock into the tight interior of her entranceway--no time for anything ‘cept to be inside--to mark her his own--as if a clock was ticking or they were running out of time, which was just crazy cuz they were getting married but he had to have her now, hard and fast, had to take her before she was taken away.

She cried out beneath him in shock and something else…

“You’re inside me…you…”

“Shhh luv…shh he leaned over and kissed her neck and that place he had found behind her ear that made her juices-jelly--it helped calm her down as he pushed inside her.

She took a sharp intake of breath--something was changing…he…he…Spike…

Inch by inch he claimed her all the while nuzzling her neck and soothing her

“Has to be done pet…has to be done…”

He didn’t know what it was that had to be done, but the words felt right and he felt her nod against his head accepting his claim.  She was being changed from a Miss.

God he loved her--and pushed hard the rest of the way--when he hit her high wall they were both smashed with an electrical spasm that left them weeping.  The round peg in the square hole had been rammed and jammed and now somehow fit with a cosmic bang.

He looked down at her in shock; her head lay lolled to the side as she spun in the organic gold. 

And then it was the full shock like waking up inside her hot velvet, the flashes of the future, flashes of his future struggling toward her and white gold gluing them together.

“What was that?”  He breathed

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her eyes clearing, clearing seeing him, feeling him deep, the strange contact of intimate flesh waking something up in her, her look of pleasure turned to shock (What’s happening?  Why is Spike inside me?) And then back to pleasure again as he shifted somewhat and another jolt of electric gold shot through them both.

He was stunned…The Slayer…he was inside the Slayer.  No it was Buffy…his Buffy, the girl he was going to marry…

“Slayer…”   He almost puzzled--he thought he was having the slayer, his Buffy, he thought he would have her, just take her, but once deep inside her he felt, he feared, he might never have her but she would always…have him…

“Spike…”  Buffy was groggy the gold jolts fading she looked up at him in vague surprise “What are you doing?  Spike…”  Her arms reached up as if to push him off or hold him--not sure--but then he started to move…and her hands gripped his shoulders pulling him to her.

He made love to her, he fucked her, he loved her…on the floor of her Watcher’s spare bedroom he writhed on top of her body and pumped slowly at first, getting her used to the feel of him and then with desperation almost devoid of rhythm or grace.

They would come in and out from under the influence of the Red’s Blue spell--out to fuck--slayer and vampire--in to love--buffy & spike.

Or was it the other way ‘round?

Her body spasmed and gyrated beneath him as Buffy screamed out in protest and reverence:   “Spike…oh god, oh god Spike…”

“Buffy…” He was crying he couldn’t fight this horrible feeling of deja vu in forward like he wouldn’t be inside her ever again or she would never love him they way she way she was loving him now and he couldn’t stop…he drew out her orgasms until she was sobbing--couldn’t leave her never to come back.

Buffy rocked her body beneath him easing his wildness, easing them into a rhythm, she tamed him, she loved him, she loved him, (…how he needs me, how he loves me…)

Oh god, he fucks her like the world is chasing them…warm hot current flows from the center of her being and reaches out to him to ease him, to hold him--(see it will be o.k., I’m here always here) she holds on while he rocks her--Oh God!  Fuck!   Her body jackknifes into the most violent soul filled orgasm of her young life--and she falls crashing and thrashing, she hangs on to her Spike and forces him to come with her---“Come…” she grits out  “don’t leave me please…Oh God!...”  Another spasm and he cries and screams his body arching into hers--roaring his joy, his love, his desperation…and body spent and twitching, he lay on top of her, slightly to the side, humbled and weeping. 

After a time…she kisses his neck and finds the words for him.

“Shh…what is it love?”  Buffy asked him stroking the back of his head.

“Do you Buffy?”  He couldn’t raise his head.

She held onto him, gripped him tight and breathed these words into his neck…

“I love you…I love you so much…I think…I think it hurts my heart…”

“Yeah…yeah…”  He agrees.

He held her tight, breathing into her--and thought about how quickly the whole world could change.  He had loved her before--it had hit him hard and fast like a surprise party there in the Watchers living room and it was strong, strong enough to get him to propose …but something had changed now…or better described something and sprung alive in him that would soon, very soon obliterate him and who he was.

But isn’t that what love should do?

“I love you forever Spike…”  Buffy breathed almost chanted, she intoned in a voice beyond her years.

“Whatever happens, I love you through…time… She choked on the cliché but was still surprised at the news.  “Always…”

He still lay tight, still not quite there with her.

She tried again, she spoke with a smile and a tease in her voice, but meant it more than prose, cuz, cuz it was her words, her way:

“Even like the smallest sliver of wood stuck in my toe, it’ll always be there--even if my love ever got so small as a sliver that me and nobody else could see it, even if it was that small--you would still make me limp and be the biggest pain in my butt…”

He sighed and chuckled against her throat.

“That an invitation luv?”

“Eww..” 

She pushed at him

They chuckled and nuzzled but held on.

Relaxed now, they lay together clothing askew hugging, holding tight, couldn’t, wouldn’t let go of each other, burning love into each others tissue as if time itself at any moment would chase them into separate corners and make then come out swinging.

*   *   *

Giles was awake on the couch, more scotch in glass at the ready.  Drunk, still drunk, too drunk to even move much, but he had heard, of course he had heard but more importantly…he had felt.

In the occult, as the practitioner that he was and with some notable degree of acumen, he had the ability to perceive energy--he had felt, quite distinctly, seeping through the house a wave of love that emanated from the back bedroom. It had awoken him--well perhaps, perhaps it was Spike roaring out ‘Buffy,’ that did that--but, he had felt, and felt it still--the smooth energy they had started with their lovemaking now filling the house and cozying around him like cupid settling in for a cuddle.

(Lovemaking?)

He was drunk, he was, he admitted it, so maybe his senses were heightened somewhat BUT.  It was there.

It was that feeling left there in the room after many people had been laughing, praying and celebrating life together.   You were just walking into it, the room was empty now--but my god something wonderful must have happened here for the air to feel so…light.

A Champagne wedding waterfall trickling over cups, over cups, over cups…

(…Jenny…Oh Jenny…)

That’s what it felt like sitting here alone in the living room with them--those two back…there…doing that. 

(…Body sense memory or some such rot…)

Poor Buffy.  How would it end?  What will she do when she comes back to herself?

And this:

How could he have been so blind?

Spike and Buffy.

Oh god, it was really all in the summing up wasn’t it then? --do the math…

He had seen them fight together hadn’t he?  In the church--their intensity had struck him--he remembered.  And the very air always sparkled and cracked when they were within 15 feet of each other. Something was making her act this way, but still he knew basic physics--there had to be a catalyst--something for the magics to accelerate toward, to adhere to--something else…something blue, something of the intensity of Spike’s strange blue eyes and the way he always studied Buffy. 

Killing; the big death, fornication; the little death and he wouldn’t say love, he wouldn’t think love.

Yes it all could add up and now if only he wasn’t drunk enough to get up and put a stop to it all.

(…Jenny…)

He paused, she could always pause him.

He really did not want to look at this

He picked up his glass with ice cubes doing the gentle clink and clank and rolled it over his burning eyes.   (Bloody hell--what was wrong with his vision?)

He also thought, in the way only one man can for a fellow, fellow who he had just heard roar his love to the cosmos--and granted it was very, very, very small, but it was there; it was this:

(poor spike)

To love a slayer…bloody hell…he stopped and then amended:   to love at all…

Something blue indeed.

He took a large swallow of the scotch and enjoyed the after burn as the alcohol went running, flamethrower in hand, terrorizing memory, burning down the house. 

A Molotov cocktail for the mind.  

Best to pass out before they came back.

Mercifully, he did.

*  *  * *  *

Epilogue Petite

She couldn’t look at him.  Could not.  Simply could not.

He on the other hand was doing his best to burn a hole through her body with blue icy eyes.   He sat tied to the chair, spell gone, bereft of bliss and turned every dark intention he had ever had ever toward the Slayer or any Slayer into shards in his blood to come out as sharp stabbing slicing with his eyes.

Worse.  She was ignoring him.  Sitting casually across from him almost like he wasn’t worth the effort to look at.

She turned slightly to the side at something Red had said as she furiously made make-up cookies for the blighted.  She turned and her leg opened slightly to the side--

He caught a draft of the Buffed one, his love--

Oh god…bloody hell…his poor dead heart was slammed by the electric paddles of emergency room resurrectionists. 

It was impossible.

He would kill her…he would just have to kill her.  

She looked at him with a deliberate blankness (…she could, simply could not look at him, his mouth…) She caught the look in his eye.  Yes she could deal with that--the look of hate (…no it hurt…) yes hate could work for her, she watched his eyes turn gleeful and knew just knew what he was thinking.

He spoke for the first time…since…

“I may not be able to hit you with my fists but I can hit with words then can’t I?  What would your friends think--“

She rose quickly at full attention steel for bones--couldn’t hit him, didn’t want to touch him (her body was still humming because of…him for god’s sake--twist, twist, twist the world)

She spoke, she said, and he knew her meaning, knew her like they were old marrieds.

“One word…just one more word…just one…”

She looked him dead in the eye and he shut his mouth but would not look away, at least he had her gaze, he held her gaze--he had something of her eyes, of her inside him now and he wouldn’t be the first one to let go--

She swore something and moved violently past him, as she did, she stubbed her toe with a hard thwank on the leg of the chair he was tied to.

She winced, lifted her foot in pain and muttered: “You are such a pain in my ass…” --She broke off suddenly…kept her head down not looking at him--don’t look, don’t let him see you remember…anything…

And she limped away from him to join Willow in the next room.

She limped away.

She limped.

Almost like someone with a bad sliver in her big toe or whatall 

Spike stared after her the harsh planes of his face softening, softening almost imperceptibly. 

He watched her retreating backside, brows furrowed as he tried to remember something important, something she had said,  a sliver of something back there...after...that--he was angry sure, he was still angry, but something else now, anger wrapped around a very soft center of…hope…