thatotherperv | That Hole in your Life, part 8

Title: That Hole in Your Life
Author: Mel (

btvslover82)
Pairing: Spike/Buffy human AU
Rating: NC-17
Summary: this series is pretty much self-indulgent smut to humor several various kinks. I’ll try to fit some substance in there somewhere <nods earnestly> Anyway, Buffy is the 16-year-old babysitter for Spike and Dru, who have an open marriage. Dru encourages her husband to go after her, and he thinks this is a great idea until things start to go a little wonky.
Warnings: eventually dark, underage sex, increasing levels of kink, and utterly unrealistic demands on Spike’s stamina : ) it will * remain consensual *. I’ll try to mark any special kink warnings on a chapter-by-chapter basis.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss and ME...alas, alack.
Feedback: please. I need it like plants need….soil. gimme the dirt.
beta'd by

goddessofmercy. truly, she is a goddess. Thanks so much!

previous parts here

I almost fell into that hole in your life,
You weren’t thinking bout tomorrow,
Cause you were the same as me,
But on your knees…
--Goo Goo Dolls' Black Balloon

Previously:
“I have responsibilities,” he heard himself say. “I can’t just be your bloody Prince Charming. Nothing is going to change about that just because you’ve decided you fancy me.”

Buffy looked as though Spike had kicked her in the face, and his stomach cramped painfully. “I don’t think you have to worry about being confused with Prince Charming. Your impression sucks.” Her small show of backbone was ruined when her face crumpled and her body seized up again in painful sobbing. “I know, I sh-shouldn’t, but you’re the best thing—”

The rest was lost to the incoherence of inconsolable weeping. Spike felt like a right bastard. He stepped forward. “Kitten, I—”

Bawling, Buffy shoved away the hand that reached for her. “Don’t touch me.” He faltered. “Just get the hell out of here, Spike.”

Spike hesitated, then heart in his shoes, turned and walked away.

Part 8

Friday was Independence Day in America, a fact that Spike had almost forgotten in the turmoil of the preceding days. It was sort of a joke, wasn’t it, for the anniversary of the official secession of the American colonies to come the day after his little American had blurted out her love for him. There was something to that—not a symmetry, but certainly a big bleeding irony.

Spike’s mind shied away from the topic. He wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge that Buffy loved him, or thought that she did, in her young way. As a result, he had avoided her like the plague ever since. It tore at his heart that every time he had seen her, Buffy’s eyes had been red and swollen with crying. Spike was positive things couldn’t get any more awkward and complicated.

And then things got more awkward and complicated.

~*~*~*~

“Coming!” Spike sang out, jogging from the kitchen to the front door at the sound of the chiming bell. He swung the solid wood open to reveal a boy, taller and broader than himself, but obviously youthful in the roundness of his face. Not to mention the ridiculous spiky hair—kids these days favored it, God knew why. “Sorry, kid, whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying. Happy Fourth of July!”

Spike started to swing the door shut in the Eagle Scout’s face, but one meat hook of a hand shot out and stopped it from closing. “Wait!”

Spike pulled the door back towards him enough to look at the boy.

“I’m not selling anything, I’m here to see Buffy. Could you tell her Angel is here? Or better yet, could I come in and surprise her? I drove up from Portland, but she doesn’t know.”

Spike took a renewed interest in scrutinizing the boy. So, this was Angel, the git who had broken Buffy’s heart in Portland. Spike didn’t see what was so worthy in the boy. Good enough looking kid, but with a Neanderthal forehead like that, he couldn’t be brighter than your average crock pot.

Spike studied him coldly, body still blocking the entryway. “How did you know to find her here? Didn’t get the impression Buffy wants you two to keep in touch.”

Angel looked thrown. “Um…I showed up at her apartment to surprise her—I got that address from her friend Willow in Portland—and her mom told me I could find her here.” He frowned at Spike for a moment. “Why do you care? That’s kind of a nosy question for her boss to ask.”

Spike folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, well it’s my home, innit? Not just going to let crazy stalker boys in to molest my nanny.” This prat was annoying Spike just by breathing. Who was questioning whom here?

Angel was obviously losing his temper, sputtering at Spike’s words. “Stalker boy? Mol—I’ll have you know I’m her boyfriend!”

“Ex-boyfriend. Left out the key qualifier, mate.” Spike rocked forward menacingly. Gloating. Piker like this needed to be cut down to size.

Angel was just leaning forward in aggression when Spike felt a small hand on his shoulder. Without a word to Spike, Buffy nudged him aside and slipped past, throwing her whole body into the git’s arms. Angel caught her, buried his face in her shoulder and laughed, hoisting her off the ground and twirling her.

Spike was so livid that he completely missed the fact that Buffy’s responding laughter sounded suspiciously like sobbing.

Buffy pulled back from Angel and pushed past Spike into the house, pulling Angel behind her. “We’ll be in the backyard, I’m taking an hour off. Consider this my lunch break if you want,” she informed Spike tonelessly over her shoulder, and then they were gone, out the sliding glass door and into the sunshine.

Spike scowled.

~*~*~*~

Buffy knew she should feel conflicted to see Angel. But after the week she was having, she’d felt nothing but untarnished joy and relief at hearing his voice coming from the front door. He was something familiar, someone that had known her before her life had taken a nosedive into Sucksville. And somehow, in the last seven months, the pain of his rejection had faded just enough to be bearable.

She wondered if she would ever feel that way about Spike. Right now, she couldn’t imagine it. Right now, she could only imagine feeling as shattered as she did right this minute.

Buffy settled them onto the deck lounge chairs, both perched on the edge of their own seats, facing each other, knees touching reassuringly. Angel was holding both of her hands in his larger ones, studying her face as though he didn’t like what he saw now that he’d had a good look at her. She could only imagine that it was too obvious from the puffiness of her eyes how much she’d been crying. Angel looked suspiciously back towards the sliding glass door of the house, as if he could wrench an explanation from it.

He couldn’t, though, so he was going to try to wrench one from her.

“What’s going on here?” The no-nonsense tone was the same. He looked the same. Was it only her that was so wildly different?

“Nothing,” she replied by rote.

Angel shook his head, denying her denial. “You’ve been crying, and that guy was acting all weird. Something is going on between you.”

Buffy looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She laughed through her words in disbelief at the suggestion of such a thing, but…well, she wasn’t winning the Oscar.

“Bullshit.” His voice was quiet but lined with steel. Buffy’s eyes snapped back to his. Angel never talked to her like that. “Buffy, what the hell are you involved in?”

She suddenly located the anger she was supposed to have for him, and shot to her feet. “Oh no, you don’t get to talk to me like that. And you don’t get to act all concerned and proprietary after what you did.”

“What I did? I did what was best for you, which I can guarantee hasn’t been a consideration for that creep. I didn’t let you go so that you could have an affair with a married man. Because that is what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

Only half of his tirade penetrated, but she heard the last part loud and clear. She said nothing to that, just pressed her lips together and crossed her arms defensively over her body.

“God, I was afraid of that. Buffy, he’s married, what are you thinking?”

When her tears welled up at that, Angel pulled her down gently by the elbow onto his deck chair. She didn’t have the energy to fight him…his admonishment had hit home—what the hell was she doing?

Angel took a deep breath. “You’re better than this.”

Buffy looked up at him, and Angel looked so sincere. Her mind clouded. How could he say she was better than anything? After he had left her?

“You didn’t think so,” she accused.

Angel just stared at her, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What?”

“You didn’t think I was better than this, when you stopped loving me. You obviously didn’t think much—“

“Hey, why…where did you get that idea? I never said that. I still love you. I always will.”

Tears blurred her vision and she shoved at him viciously, lashing out. “Don’t fuck with me, Angel! Don’t you fuck with me too, I can’t handle it right now.”

Angel banded his arms around her and made little shushing noises, holding on until she stopped shoving at him, until she was just small and limp in his arms.

“I’m not messing with you, Buffy. We were just going to be so far apart and it’ll be years until you can come back to Portland on your own. I didn’t want you to be tied to the phone all the time, always missing me. I know how you are.” Buffy was sobbing into his shirt. “I wanted you to be free to have a normal life up here, make new friends…even meet someone knew, if you wanted. But I haven’t been with anyone else, since you left. Ask Willow.”

It was the most words Buffy had ever heard Angel string together in their entire life. Even as a little kid, he’d been sort of monosyllabic to her carefree babble. He liked to tease her that it was the only reason they’d become friends at all—she had a captive audience for all thoughts Buffy. But however wordy, the tone of the message was nothing new.

Stupid, self-sacrificing, understanding, overly-solicitous idiot.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Buffy accused weakly, thumping a fist against his chest. It came out sounding like a sob.

Angel smiled at her sheepishly. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I miss you so much.”

Buffy looked up at him, eyes flat. She felt hollow from the outburst, as if all of her will and laughter and spirit had leaked out her eyes and now she had nothing. She didn’t even have Angel, because he would be leaving again, too soon. His words were the ones she’d wanted for months after the breakup, but they didn’t touch her like she’d thought they would, except to maybe settle something still lurking deep in the pit of her stomach.

She looked down and sniffled, wiping at her nose. “You were right. It would have been too hard, saying goodbye again and again, only seeing you every few months.”

Angel averted his eyes and added quietly, “I know that too.”

They were quiet for a while, just sitting side by side, Angel’s hand soothing up and down Buffy’s back.

“Buffy,” Angel finally said, approaching his topic carefully, “What’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this, you’re….”

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and scooted away from his hands. “Just don’t, ok? I really can’t talk about it.” Her chin trembled dangerously.

She could feel him studying her, worried. Angel always worried about everything, always worried about her happiness. Did Spike? God, what was she doing with him?

“Just tell me what I can do to help,” Angel offered.

“Just—” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, gathered her emotions. “Just let’s not talk about it, ok? Can we just be normal all weekend? The way we were before we ever thought of dating?”

Angel kissed her temple and smoothed a hand down her hair, and it was all so familiar. He was like a warm blanket. Her friend, her next door neighbor, the boy who had pushed her down in the dirt when they were ten, but never let anyone else look at her cross-eyed. “Whatever you want, babe.”

Buffy stood. “Right now I want to go home. Like, right now.”

“We can do that. I have a car now. Drove it up from Portland.”

Buffy smiled thinly. “Look at you, big man with the transportation.” She poked at his ribs, attempting to change the mood, and he smiled gamely.

When they stepped back into the kitchen, Buffy didn’t miss that Spike was scowling at the sink, which overlooked the backyard. She thought about how the two of them must have looked from inside, where he couldn’t hear. Fine, let him think whatever. Take a walk in her ill-fitting, jealousy-green shoes for five minutes.

“I’m leaving,” she informed him.

“What?” Spike shouted, whirling around. His whole body was rigid with nerves, and he stared at her in shock before turning a suspecting glare on Angel. Buffy could feel Angel bristle beside her, and the last thing she needed was blood on the linoleum floors, so she placed a hand on Angel’s arm to calm him. True to the universal laws of physics, it had the equal and opposite reaction on Spike, who appeared unable to tear his eyes away from where her hand rested.

“For the weekend,” Buffy clarified. Spike’s eyes flickered back up to hers, and comprehension was followed quickly by relief. She should have let him think it was forever, but he looked so panicked. She didn’t have the heart; mostly because she’d given hers to him. And now they both knew it.

God. She needed to get out of here, and self-medicate with frozen dairy products.

“I’m knocking off early for the day,” she continued. It wasn’t a question. Spike would have to have some nerve to insist that she stay, and she knew he knew it.

Buffy watched him regain his cool composure. “Oh…guess that’s alright then. It being a Yank holiday and all.” Spike smiled benignly at her, like a benevolent employer. The act he was putting on for Angel’s benefit made her snort derisively. Not like it was fooling a single breathing soul in this room.

“Yeah. Anyway…bye.” Buffy turned. “Come on, Angel, let’s get out of here. I’m sooo ready for the weekend.”

She let Angel guide her out to the car, aware how it looked, and aware that Spike was looking. When she caught a glimpse of Spike’s face in the window as they pulled down the drive, she knew she shouldn’t care that he looked hurt.

She shouldn’t. But she did.

~*~*~*~

part 9

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

tamibrandt.livejournal.com

I sense some groveling to come to some extent, and maybe a knock down drag out between the British boy toy and the avenging neanderthal lol (I think my days as a wrestling fan just came back to haunt me) lol

From:

That Hole in your Life, part 8

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