Only One

For: slackerace
Rating: R
Request: I love me some post NFA

Response: My first post-Not Fade Away ficlet. A beat-up Spike, survivor of the NFA battle, arrives on Buffy's doorstep.




When he showed up on her doorstep,dirty, bruised and all around wrecked, she cried out. The only parts of him that did not appear to be in pain were his eyes. They lit from within when he saw her and he smiled. Then, in the space of seconds, the light went out and he fell into her arms. Literally.

With the aid of a nearly hysterical Dawn, Buffy dragged an unconscious Spike into her apartment and to her bed. They pulled off his duster, partially shredded and covered with dried blood and who knows what else. He moaned, but did not wake up. Boots off, lightly covered in a blanket, he slept. And slept.

Buffy paced at the foot of the bed, tears in her eyes. After a few hours passed, Dawn tried to draw her out of the room with no success. “What if he wakes up?” she said. Dawn knew the real question was “What if he’s not here when I get back?” She finally left Buffy alone with him.

And he slept.

She asked her questions out loud but he did not answer. Why was he alive - or at least not a pile of ashes? Where had he been? What happened to him since then? What happened to him recently? How? When? Where? The questions swirled in her mind, each one creating another until she had to sit down under the weight of them. He was gone. She had mourned. And now...he was back? With fear in her heart, she walked closer and closer to his prone form. Fingers trembling, she touched him. First, on the shoulder. He moved slightly. Then, more brave, his face. One finger tracing a cheekbone. Felt real. Felt like flesh and bone once again. Buffy drew her hand back. He moaned quietly, twitched in the bed. So, he’s not a figment, not a spirit, not a ghost. He’s Spike. And still not breathing, so still a vampire. She bit her lip, the questions crushing into her again.

And still he slept.

. . .

It’s been ten hours and still Buffy is watching him. Now, she is perched on the foot of the bed, eyes scanning him for any movement. With a sigh, she stands up and goes to her dresser. It’s after 11 p.m. and she is physically and emotionally exhausted. Not even the arrival of night has sparked him into consciousness. Her fear and worry grows. Changing into pajamas, she stands and thinks. She can’t leave him alone in here. It’s all too bizarre, too uncertain. But should she...?

Buffy stands next to the bed, hesitates for a moment before lifting the blanket and sliding in next to him. The shift in the mattress tips his body to her slightly and she gasps. He is cold. Colder than he should be. Buffy realizes, and instantly berates herself. Blood. He needs blood. She thinks about her options and decides on one that should shock her. It doesn’t. Buffy reaches under her mattress and pulls out a dagger. A smart Slayer always has a weapon at hand, and the stake under there won’t do the trick. She clutches the dagger tightly, eyes searching his face again. Finally, she reaches out and rests her hand on his cheek, leaving it there long enough for the heat of her skin to penetrate his. He starts to stir, fitful in his sleep. Satisfied he is at least semi-conscious, Buffy pulls her hand back and takes the blade across her wrist in one quick, shallow cut. She flinches as a stripe of blood wells up. Before she can change her mind, she presses it against his lips. First, she simply stains them red but suddenly, she feels a pressure. She feels rather than sees his lips move against her, pulling on the wound lightly. After a handful of seconds, Spike sits up with a start, and her hand falls into her lap. Buffy gasps, and Spike’s eyes cut to her face in a flash.

“B-Buffy?” His voice is coarse, sounding rough and unused. “What were you - did you just - ?” His fingers brush his lips and come back red. He looks at them and then at her. “Is this yours?”

Buffy nods, too stunned to reply. After waiting ten hours to talk to him, she is struck speechless.

“Are you okay? Did I do that?” Spike gestures at her arm, the short cut nearly healed already. Buffy shakes her head quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay, love?”

Love. Buffy looks at him for a second and shakes her head. Her eyes fill with tears and she sniffs, trying to hold them back. Surprising himself as well as Buffy, Spike reaches out and takes her chin in his hand. Leaning forward, he kisses her. Soft and very gentle, his lips press against hers, asking. With a small sound, Buffy answers. She kisses him harder. Her hands come up to hold his face as she moves closer to him. Any doubt that this was not the real Spike come back to ‘life’ are removed as she kisses him. Only one vampire has ever turned her whole body into a live wire with a single kiss.

His hands slide over her body, skating over her curves like one who has driven them before. Only one vampire can make her panties melt and her blood race just by touching her.

Buffy finds the knot of questions in her mind and tucks them aside for the moment. Instead, she remembers that only one vampire has ever managed to get into her pants this fast after returning from the grave. She smiles.

And he’s back.