Sunshine, After Rain
Pairings: Buffy/SpikeWarnings: PG-13/R
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Spike or any of the other characters from BtVS. I just like to get them naked and roll them around in a bed ... or on a tomb ... under the table ... in the shower ... Um, you get the idea.
Feedback? Please, please, with chocolate and Spike on top!
“One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.”
- Sophocles -
Spike groaned and braced himself, hands against the shower tiles, as the hot water cascaded over his sore muscles and open wounds. Patrol was a bitch and the Slayer wasn’t much better.
Get over it, she said. Like the guilt of over a hundred years of killing was so easy to get over. He clenched his fist against the wall, gritting his teeth. He had gotten the bloody soul for her in the first place and now she had the nerve to say she had liked the old him better. Bloody bitch. He pushed away from the wall and grabbed the shampoo, wetting his hair before scrubbing it harshly, pulling it in his haste.
“Bloody hell,” he growled, the pain in his scalp forcing him to pay attention to what he was doing. He more gently rinsed the soap out and grabbed the frou-frou body wash that the girls used; bloody bints couldn’t use a bar of soap like normal people. He flipped the cap and grabbed a srunchie bath sponge, snorting at the thing and squirting the soap on it.
Running it over his arms and chest, he groaned as an explosion of vanilla scent assaulted his sensitive nostrils causing his body to harden. Slayer. He couldn’t get away from her. But he didn’t put the sponge down. He couldn’t; love’s bitch, willing slave to the end, even if it happens to be tonight. He snorted again. Worse than the bloody Angel, he was. This, her scent, was the only thing he could have of her and so he washed, slowly, enjoying the smell of her, the light scratching of her sponge against his nipples, over his taunt belly.
~
Buffy had tried waiting downstairs. She had, in fact, insisted that he shower first. She had felt so guilty for the things she had said to him earlier and in front of everyone. When he had joined her for patrol, she had almost gasped out loud at the long, black duster he was wearing. He hadn’t worn it since he had gotten the soul. She knew how hard it must have been for him to put it on, knowing what it represented, and all because she had said she wanted the old Spike. She really was a bitch.
She had seen the struggle that had been apart of him since...well, honestly, since well before last year, probably since before he had chained her up and declared his feelings. Since getting his soul back, he had been in constant pain from the guilt that coursed his entire being. The sad thing was, she knew what he had been feeling. The struggle. She remembered everything that Angel had told her about the soul and Angel had been cursed. Spike had knowingly and willingly fought and won his soul, for her. For her and instead of praising him, embracing him for his efforts and yes, for his love, she had been the same bitch she had always been to him. Because she was afraid. Afraid of how he loved her without his soul, afraid of how he loved her with it, and mostly, afraid of how she loved him.
She loved him and she was tired of being alone even while surrounded by her friends. She looked at them around her now and felt alone. He was upstairs in her shower and she was down here alone. She stood suddenly from where she had been perched on the edge of a straight back chair, not wanting to get demon blood on the couch.
The others started at her sudden move and looked at her questioningly, “I’m just, uh...” she stopped, mad at her self for stuttering, for letting them get to her when she only wanted to be with him. She sighed and tossed her hair back with a dirty hand, standing up straight, “I’m going to go take a shower; this blood itches.” She said, heading to the stairs, hoping they would let it go, but knowing that they wouldn’t.
Xander sputtered, “Buffy, Evil Undead’s up there, you know, showering, can hear it running still.”
She didn’t look back as she ascended, “Yeah, I know, thought he might need help with his back.”
She ignored Xander’s cries of outrage, Giles’ “oh dears” and Willow’s, “Buffy”. Sighing when she reached the closed bathroom door and knocking gently before easing it open.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, Slayer?”
“Can I, uh come in? I need to...” She broke off, blushing. “You know...”
“Sure, luv. Don’t mind me, just don’t flush,” he answered with a chuckle.
“I won’t.” She giggled and slipped inside the warm, humid room, closing the door and locking it behind her, before doing what she needed to do.
She peeled the stiff, blood-coated clothes from her body, dropping her bra and panties on top before moving towards the sink and the end of the tub where the curtain gaped. She looked in at him and smiled. He was so adorable; his eyes were closed tightly against the water spraying down on his upturned face, bubbles running over his gorgeous body on their way to the drain. She felt herself grow wet as she watched his obvious enjoyment of the hot water, her hands clenching into fists at the thought of touching his water-warmed skin.
“Spike,” she spoke, startling him into turning around to face her. She gasped as she took in the sight of his cock, gloriously erect against his toned abdomen. She forced her gaze up to surprised azure eyes.
“Can I...” she broke off motioning with her hand, hoping he would understand her unasked question.
He visibly shook his self from where he had been staring at her bared body. “Uh, sure, Slayer; just let me finish rinsing.” He stepped back into the spray all business.
“No! I mean can I join you in there?” She asked shyly, hazel eyes hidden as she stared at her feet, embarrassed, awaiting his answer.
~
Spike had been surprised when she had knocked on the door, but didn’t let her know it. He heard her moving around the bathroom and even using the loo, surprising him further. It seemed so intimate. He shrugged it off, turning to face the shower spray again, letting the hot water sooth his nerves and rinse him clean, ignoring her presence, until she had spoken his name again, causing him to spin in surprise to find her looking in at him.
He couldn’t help but to drink her in. His beautiful, golden Slayer; It had been much too long since he had last seen her naked flesh. His cock, all ready hard from the scent of her bath gel, hardened further at the sight of her and at the look she was giving him in return. When she spoke he at first thought she was asking to join him, but then realized that she probably just wanted to get the demon blood off of her before it gave her a rash or something.
But then she had spoke again, causing him to doubt his hearing. He looked at her, looking at her feet and couldn’t believe that she seemed...what? Embarrassed? After everything that they had done to each over the last year, she was embarrassed now?
He must have stood there, shocked for too long, because her saw blood rush to her face and heard a small whisper.
“Please, Spike?”
“Why?” He had to ask, even while his demon was screaming in his head telling him he was crazy. “Why, Buffy? This morning...”
Her head came up, hazel eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, for this morning, for every time I beat you down, used you. I’m sorry, Spike. I do care about you. I love you and I’m tired of denying it, tired of being alone, just plain tired.”
By the end of her speech, she was sobbing and he did the only thing he could do, stepped forward and gathered her in his arms gently lifting her into the shower with him. He pulled her against him under the spray, rubbing gentle hands over her arms and back, holding her close to him and cooing nonsense words into her hair.
She gripped him tightly to her and cried, relieved that he had taken the step, that he seemed to still care about her, but she had to ask, “Do you forgive me?” Her voice was quiet and trembled.
He pulled away from her and tipped her face up to his with a light touch so that he could see her face. “Say it again?”
She smiled shyly not even pretending to not understand, “I love you, Spike.”
His bright eyes filled with tears and he let out a sobbing laugh, squeezing her to him. “Yeah, I forgive you, Goldilocks. I love you, too. You’re everythin’ to me.”
Suddenly, she was laughing with him, in relief and joy, holding on to him with a strength that would have bruised another, but in which he gladly accepted and returned, both feeling completely loved for the first time ever.
THE END
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