This Might Hurt

For: spikefan
Rating: R
Request: Canon-based, Season 5. Buffy overhears Spike's soliloquy on why he got the "better deal" in "Into the Woods", is intrigued and hangs around after Riley leaves. R or NC-17 OK...thank you!

Response: As requested, this fic takes place when Buffy overhears Spike and Riley's little encounter in Spike's crypt and is from Buffy's POV.

Author's Note: Words in italics are straight from Riley and Spike's conversation in "Into the Woods."

“It’s easy. I’ll just ask him. I talk to him all the time. Okay, mostly I punch him, but I usually say something right before or after. So, yeah. Easy.” I shake my head, thinking this will be about as easy as dental work without anesthesia. I’ve spent hours trying to figure out what exactly drove Spike to reveal Riley’s betrayal to me and have come up with nothing. He didn’t seem to be enjoying my pain when I found out, which would have been my first guess. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was trying to help me. But that can’t be it. So, here I am...

I’m a few steps from Spike’s crypt door when I hear him yell in pain. I start to rush to the door when I hear another voice. A familiar voice. Riley? What the hell is he doing here? And what did he do to Spike? And why did my heart drop into my stomach at the sound of Spike’s scream? Usually I...well, I don’t mind it. But this time? I mind. Nobody hurts Spike but me, damn it.

I press my ear to the door, waiting to hear Spike’s voice again. Riley wouldn’t...dust him, would he? Of course, yesterday I would have said Riley would never let some vamp ho suck his arm, either. Apparently, I’m not all that up on what Riley is capable of. I feel immediately sick to my stomach. And then, I hear Spike speak. My heart beats hard, back in my chest where it belongs, and I am alarmed at how relieved I am to hear that obnoxious voice again. But still, Riley is, what, torturing him? I lean into the door, about to open it when I hear something that freezes me in my tracks.

“Look at you. All afraid I’m hot for your honey.”

What the? Hot for his who? That can’t be -

“Because you are.” No, he’s not. Riley, you have definitely got it all -

“Well...yeah.” Right? You’ve got it right? Spike is...? And there goes my heart again, beating like a jackhammer. Let’s not even discuss how the rest of my body is reacting to that admission. I can’t...oh god. I step back from the door a little, letting their voices fade into noise. The buzzing in my ears is distracting enough.

Let me get this straight. The perfect All-American boyfriend I had was actually letting vampire sluts get him off with a little bloodsucking. Meanwhile, the undead pain in my ass, also a bloodsucker, who has threatened to kill me and mine on more than one occasion, was actually looking out for my best interest by telling on said boyfriend AND is hot for me? Spike. Hot. For me. It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

And yet...I think I knew it. I didn’t let the words form in my mind, because hello, evil, but still...I think I knew. Flashes of recent events careen through my brain, which is still very close to lockdown. There’s the way he has helped out recently. The way he tried to actually kiss me a few weeks ago. The way he has been looking at me lately less like dinner and more like...dessert. I should have seen it. I didn’t want to see it. I still don’t think I want to see it.

I mean, I definitely don’t want to. Of course.

I take a few tentative steps closer to the door. Riley is still in there, which is...odd. As I get within a few inches, I can start to make out their voices again. What is this? A bit of one-sided violence and now some male bonding? No wonder I don’t get guys.

The first voice I hear is Spike’s and my mouth goes instantly dry.

“Ain’t love grand?” What, now it’s LOVE? What happened to lust and the being hot for me? When did we shoot three exits up to LOVE?

I have to strain to hear Spike’s next words. “Sometimes I envy you so much it chokes me. And sometimes I think I got the better deal. To be that close to her and not have her. To be all alone even when you’re holding her. Feeling her, feeling her beneath you. Surrounding you. The scent. . .No, you got the better deal.”

Oh. My. God. I slowly let out the breath I was holding as Spike spoke. So, uh, there’s that lust I was talking about. He appears to...have it. In spades. Also, I am not blushing. No sir. Just, I think it’s a bit warm out here. Or perhaps, a fever. Yes, I am running a temperature. Not because of the way he described...and had clearly fantasized about...and with the beneath him and the surrounding.

I sit down on the stoop quite hard as I am suddenly on the dizzy side. Spike wants me. Riley wants suck jobs from vampires. When did my world go completely off axis? Oh wait. It’s always doing that.

By the time I hear Riley’s heavy steps coming toward the door, I am more confused than ever. But I don’t want to be found sitting here, so I scramble around the corner of the crypt and flatten myself there.

I hear Riley’s slightly slurred speech as the door swings open. “You still better just keep your hands off her, Spike. Or I’ll come back and finish the job.” Without waiting for a response, he stumbles away and into the dark. Now what? I can’t just go home and act like nothing happened. I mean, I could. But I can’t. I hear softer steps from inside the crypt and I realize Spike must be coming to close the door. He mutters to himself.

“Threaten all you want, Soldier Boy. She’s worth the risk.” I gasp and am thankful the door clangs shut at the same moment so he doesn’t hear me.

For a few painful minutes, I lean there against the crypt wall. I don’t want him to know I heard any of this. I’m on patrol. Yup, just on patrol. Patrolling, that’s me. And the reason I’m going to Spike’s crypt? That I don’t know. Maybe he won’t ask. I’ll just barge in like normal and y’know...wing it from there.

I stand with my hand on his door for a solid minute before I finally shove it open and stomp in.

Spike’s back is to me as I come down the steps and slam the door behind me. And by back, I mean his BACK. Bare skin, all smooth and muscley. Agh.

He barely reacts to me, his attention focused down. “Oh! I didn’t...um. Should I leave you...” Oh yeah. Be polite. That won’t make him suspicious at ALL. Sigh.

Spike glances over his shoulder from over by the fridge, looking very confused. “What’s up with you, Slayer? Come down with a case of manners?” He grimaces as he turns around, a white cloth held to his upper chest. I see red staining it from where I stand. Holy crap. Would you look at those abs?

“Oh! What happened?” Look away from the sculpted chest. Not a male model. Not a male model. Just Spike.

Spike glances at the spot on his chest where my eyes are focused. He shrugs. “Demon got in a lucky shot is all. Good thing his aim was a bit off.”

Huh. Not telling on Riley now, is he? Because he’s the one that got hurt this time instead of me. So before, he was really trying to protect me. To help me. And there goes my world again with the wildly spinning.

I know my eyes soften on him because he suddenly swallows hard. “What?”

“It looks serious.” Blood is soaking through the cloth as we speak. Spike pulls it away slightly and looks at the wound, frowning.

“It’ll stop. Think he hit an artery or something.”

“He?”

Spike answers too quickly and I see him covering once again. “The demon bloke. He had a pretty good arm on him.”

Yeah, I’ve seen those arms. Guess he uses them on people who can’t hit back now. My mouth slides into a hard line at the thought. Without thinking it through too much, I point at Spike’s chair. “Sit.”

Spike hesitates. I realize I can’t actually see all of him behind the sarcophagus. I...hope he has pants on. I do. He walks slowly towards me and I sigh in relief at seeing the familiar black jeans still there, slung low on his hips. NOT that I was looking at his hips. My eyes just drop like that sometimes of their own free will.

He walks by me, close enough for me to catch the scent of bourbon on his breath. He and Riley were drinking it together, I think. “What for?” Despite his question, Spike slumps into the chair, still holding the cloth against his chest.

“So, I can check it out.”

“Check what out?”

“Check you out.” His eyebrows shoot up and I instantly regret my choice of words. “Check your injury out, Spike. Pig.” He smirks up at me, faith restored in my disgust at him and his innuendo. Now that I see Spike all sprawled out on his chair, I wonder what I was thinking. I’m going to have to touch him. Knowing that he’s thought about me...naked. And, y’know, beneath him. And more than that...he loves me? How is that possible? He hates me. A day doesn’t go by hardly when he doesn’t remind me.

I snap out of my thoughts to find Spike watching me closely. His eyes are dark in the dim light of his crypt and the intensity in them catches me off guard. I jump a little and swing into action.

I step closer, leaning down so I can put my hand on the rapidly saturating white cloth. “Eww.” I feel the wetness under my fingers. “It’s not stopping.”

Spike is staring at me. Again. “Hello? Spike? It’s not stopping.” He blinks rapidly and moves his eyes away.

“Can’t bleed to death, pet.”

“But you can get...all weak and stuff, right?”

He frowns. I notice he already looks a bit paler than his normal pale. “Yeah. Guess I need to replace the blood.” He is still studying me and I bet he’s wondering why I care. I never have before. But somehow I feel responsible for this. For Riley going insane on him just because he got caught doing something wrong. Least I can do is help a little, right? Seeing him half naked? Bonus.

Where did that come from? Oh right, from the fact that he is actually quite good looking. Duh. The blatant evilness has blocked my ability to notice that until now. And then there’s the way he talked about me to Riley. It wasn’t lewd and disgusting, as I might expect. It was...sweet. For god’s sake, how can Spike be sweet?

I slowly peel the cloth back and I hear him draw in his breath in pain as air hits the wound. The nasty, right into his heart, big old hole in his chest wound. I can’t help it. I gasp, too. Spike closes his eyes, grimacing.

“Oh god. What the...this looks like it is in your heart, Spike.” I reach toward it slowly, fingers stopping short of the gruesome hole.

He shifts in his chair, clearly in pain from the continually bleeding injury. “Yeah. Wasn’t wood, so I survive. Just hurts like hell.” I turn around so he can’t see the expression on my face. Riley. Riley stabbed him in the heart with something other than wood, making Spike think he was being dusted. That’s just...evil. I feel nauseous. And god, sympathy for Spike. Can this night get any weirder?

I walk away from him. “Got any more clean rags around here? This one’s done.”

“Box by the fridge has more first aid stuff, love.” I feel myself react a little to his words. He calls me love all the time. With a sneer, usually. Now, it just rings differently. I kneel down and rummage through the box, thankful the sarcophagus blocks his view of me. I have to get a damn grip on myself. I don’t love Spike. Don’t even like him, right? It’s ludicrous. I’m just...used to him, is all. But...but I have to recognize that he was looking out for me. And apparently, cares for me. As screwed up as that sounds. It seems to be true. When I think my face is no longer flushed, I bring back a bunch of gauze and a roll of tape.

I put on my best nurse face as I return to Spike, who has his eyes closed, head against the back of the chair. “Spike?”

He doesn’t open his eyes. “Yeah?”

“This might hurt.”

I take another clean piece of gauze and press it against the wound. Firmly.

“Holy fucking hell!” Spike flails to attention, eyes blazing. “Slayer, what are you doing?!”

“Applying pressure?” Yep, he definitely looks pale. I keep holding the gauze against his chest and try to avert my eyes from said chest at the same time. Not easy, I might add.

“You don’t say?” Spike frowns, eyebrows drawn as his fingertips dig into the arms of the chair.

“It won’t stop bleeding unless I do.” He answers by glaring at me.

After a couple minutes of awkward silence, I lift the gauze and am glad to see his chest is not actively bleeding. “See? Much better.” I smile at Spike, who risks a small one in return. I rarely get to see him smile. Kind of nice.

I turn to business, arranging a fresh piece of gauze on Spike’s chest gently. My hair swings forward to brush against his cheek and I hear him take in a breath. I am very close. I see his hand lift from the chair arm out of the corner of my eye and concentrate very hard on putting the square just so. I wonder how a few candles can generate so much heat, as it is decidedly warm in here. I lean back a little, and see his hand drop back to the chair. I lick my lips as I pick up the tape. My leg knocks against his knee accidentally and I realize I am standing between Spike’s legs. Crap. Well, his knees are in different time zones, how could I help it?? Explains a bit of his nervousness, though. And mine. I tear off two pieces of tape and lean back down, hair swinging forward again. This time, his hand appears out of nowhere to catch the hair just before it hits him in the face. I freeze as he tucks the loose hair behind my right ear gently. His hand goes to the other side, tucking that hair behind my left ear. I see his hand hesitate near my cheek before returning slowly to the armrest. And this whole time, he’s looking at me. I feel very weird. Butterflies are bouncing around in my stomach. Over Spike.

I break the eye contact and the moment slides away. I press the tape down on two sides firmly and turn to grab the roll again. This time his hand grabs one of my arms. I look at the hand for a few seconds before glancing at Spike. “Thanks, Slayer.” His voice is softer than I think I’ve ever heard it. It’s incredibly unnerving and the damn butterflies start thudding against my ribcage once again.

“Uh, sure. No big.” Spike doesn’t let go for a few more seconds, but then I feel his fingers unwrap and drop to his leg. I tear two more pieces of tape and lean forward, feeling very shaky. He is doing a number on me. Does he have a thrall? Am I under it? I never thought to ask Giles. Would be good to know. My fingers tremble as I lean back down to place the tape. My face is only a few inches from his. When I secure the last piece of tape, I find that my hands are still there, resting lightly on the tape, smoothing it. I take a deep breath, not looking at Spike, but focusing my eyes on the white square of gauze.

“So. I wanted to say thanks.” I cut my eyes at him once, and read confusion there. “For...telling me about Riley.” I swallow, mouth suddenly very dry. The very recent hurt over Riley’s betrayal wells back up in the form of wet eyes. Shit. I start to stand up and Spike’s reflexes are too fast for me again. He grabs both my wrists tightly, leaving both my hands on his chest. I almost lose my balance and fall on him.

“Look at me, Slayer.” I do. “Riley is a wanker.” I shake my head, pulling away. He doesn’t let me go. “A bloody wanker, love. Don’t shed a tear over a man who can’t see when he’s got a great...when he’s got...you. He doesn’t deserve you.”

His hands loosen on my wrists, but I still lean there. Hands on his cool, firm chest. Spike’s words bouncing around in my head. I close the last few inches, licking my lips once before I press them to his. Very lightly. Only for a second. I feel his muscles tense under my hands. I’d swear those butterflies just tripled in my stomach. There is a moment when neither of us move. I start to stand up, but his hands encircle my wrists again and I don’t fight it. I dive back down for another kiss, this one longer. And harder. I feel his legs tighten around mine, holding me there. My hands slide up to his shoulders, Spike’s hands still clutching my wrists. I keep kissing him and hear him moan as I open my mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lip. In a moment, I am falling into him, his tongue touches mine and I am nearly lost. How can Spike kiss me like this? So tenderly? So...so...god.

“Oh, Buffy.” His soft words against my lips make me gasp. He never calls me... I ... this can’t... he does...I jerk back, my hand going to my mouth. The taste of him still there. My body screaming for me to continue. I stumble back a step and he starts to rise from his chair.

“I have to go. I...have to. I’m sorry. Um, thanks.” I break for the door and am out and running before he can even get all the way up. It’s five minutes before I stop running and stop to lean against a fence. My breath comes in gasps and my legs shake, none of it from the running. Spike’s words echo in my mind. The feel of his hands on my wrists, his mouth on mine. The cool night air helps me think again, the fog of being near him finally lifting.

It wasn’t a thrall at all. I wanted him. And he wanted me more than I would have thought...possible. No. Not a thrall.

A thrall would make the way I’m feeling a lot easier to explain.

Damn.