Nothing and Everything

Despite being sure that Spike knew he was behind him, Steven closed the kitchen door as quietly as he could. He hesitated for a second then, unsure of what kind of welcome he could expect. If Spike had been only half as surprised by Dawn’s little speech as Steven had felt, it probably still had been a shock. Knowing how protective the vampire was of Dawn, a really nasty shock, as nasty as it had been pleasant to Steven. Not that he wasn’t willing to wait – they had all the time in the world. But not waiting could probably be nice, too. Very nice. Unless, of course, it meant he and Dawn might lose Spike’s friendship. Yes, the vampire was - very slightly - smothering at times. But Steven knew he meant well. And so did Dawn, deep down, which was probably why she hadn’t protested when he had told her he needed to talk to him.

Finally, the teen sat down on the deck steps next to Spike. The vampire pretended not to notice, and kept pulling deeply on his cigarette. The silence was heavy, too heavy between two people who always had something to talk about.

“If I had known, I would have told you,” Steven said at last.

Spike snorted. “Why?”

The question took the teen by surprise. He didn’t know why, actually. It just felt normal to discuss these kinds of things with Spike. He had been Steven’s confidante for everything that was Dawn-related, and even more, almost since they had met.

“Because I want to tell you. Isn’t that reason enough?”

The still smoldering cigarette was suddenly thrown to the ground. Spike got to his feet and stepped on it as he started pacing, hands thrust deep in his duster’s pockets.

“What if I don’t want to know?” he asked, never looking toward Steven.

“I thought you cared,” the teen replied carefully.

“Apparently, I care more than what I’m allowed to!” came the biting reply.

Steven watched his elder in silence as he pulled out his cigarettes and lit yet another one. There was almost an art behind the practiced motions. He had seen the vampire go through his smoking act so often that he could recognize all the different emotions hiding behind the gestures, depending on how deeply he inhaled, how often, even the way he held the cigarette. This was the
“I’m-two-seconds-away-from-going-to-kill-something-to-soothe-my-nerves” Spike. It came with a compulsion to pace furiously as well as a tendency to say things without thinking.

“She didn’t mean it,” Steven offered quietly.

The pacing stopped, but only long enough for Spike to give him a hard look and say:

“Yes she does. And she’s right. I’m nothing to her. Only her big sis’ bloody boyfriend. Just like I’m nothing to you.”

“It’s not true!” Steven protested vehemently. “You’re family! To me, and to her too.”

He paused briefly, before adding, more calmly:

“You just need to realize we’ve grown up.”

For a while, Spike kept pacing angrily. Steven couldn’t help but wonder what had been going on in his head in the last couple of days. First he had all but denied his link with Angel, even though he had admitted to Steven that he was a father figure to him. And that was without mentioning the revelations from their drinking night, which Steven preferred to forget. Now he was rejecting Dawn and him. Granted, Dawn had started it, and maybe she could have voiced it differently. But Spike hadn’t really taken all she had said seriously, had he? No, he knew better than that. She had just let her irritation take over, an irritation that had been growing for quite a while, actually. It was a wonder Spike hadn’t seen it coming.

When the vampire finally stopped walking back and forth and turned to Steven, there was still no trace of gold in his eyes, which was a very good sign. However, he was not simply looking at Steven. Instead, he was gauging, weighing him, and Steven felt like he was about to be judged and sentenced.

“If you ever hurt her…”

The end of the calm threat was not voiced, but it felt still very real to Steven. Yet he couldn’t help grinning as he nodded. That was probably as close to a blessing they would get before a long time.

“Yeah, I know.”

“What if I hurt him?”

Steven turned toward the door as Dawn came out. They shared a smile, and when he raised his hand toward her she took it and pressed it briefly, warmly. That simple touch sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach and actually made him a little dizzy. Her eyes left him then, settling on Spike, and Steven’s gaze followed hers. The older man was simply watching them, quiet, his face abnormally void of all emotion.

“Will you do anything if I’m the one that hurts him?” Dawn insisted softly.

“Should I?” Spike asked, his voice too neutral.

“Sure. Not that I want you to kick my butt…just give me a wake up call.”

The faintest smile emerged on Spike’s lips, answering to Dawn’s. “It’s a deal, then.”

Dawn took the few steps needed to stand right in front of the blonde.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. With another apocalypse on its way and all, I guess it’s not the best time to get angry with my best friend. Not when any of us could die soon.”

Steven blinked several times. Apocalypse?

“Don’t say that, Nibblet,” Spike replied immediately. “Nothing bad will happen. I pro…”

The girl’s hand, the same one that had touched Steven’s a moment before, rose and covered Spike’s mouth before he could finish.

“Don’t promise. You don’t know what will happen any more than I do.”

“But I do know I will die before letting you get hurt again,” Spike said softly. “I won’t break that promise twice.”

Something passed between the two of them, and then they hugged. If it had been anyone else but Spike, Steven would have been immensely jealous.

“Protect him too, please,” Dawn whispered to the vampire, and Steven felt his breath catch in his throat. “Because I would die if anything happened to him.”

From behind the kitchen door, Buffy heard her sister talking about the coming apocalypse, and her hand froze on the door handle. Giles had said he hadn’t told her anything, but apparently she had figured out from his presence and his study of moldy books that something bad was coming their way. Smart girl. Too smart, sometimes. Buffy could only hope she wouldn’t figure out that she too had a part to play in this one before they knew exactly what her role was.

She pushed the door open finally, and stepped out onto the deck next to Steven, who was getting to his feet from his seat on the steps. Dawn and Spike hugged briefly, then the vampire placed a kiss on the girl’s forehead and she came back toward the house. Toward Steven rather, who wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Time for patrol,” Buffy announced, feeling a little sorry about breaking the moment.

Steven gave her an apologetic smile. “I’ll pass for tonight.”

Now, why was he blushing as he said that? Realization hit Buffy as the teens exchanged one of those looks. She glanced at Spike, expecting him to declare he wasn’t coming to patrol either, with the clear goal to keep an eye on Steven and Dawn. Yet, all he did was return her glance and say:

“Shall we go then, Slayer?”

Half an hour later, the two vampires were visiting their second graveyard of the night.

“So, in short,” Spike said with more than a hint of annoyance, “we have to wait until old Rupert is done with his little puzzle game before we know anything?”

He was sitting on a tombstone, smoking what was probably his fourth cigarette since they had started patrolling. As she staked a newly risen vamp, Buffy thought to herself that she needed to do something about his smoking habit; it seemed it was just getting worse all the time.

“Yep,” she replied, brushing ashes off her shirt, “nothing to do but wait. And we all know how good you are at waiting.”

Giving him a smirk perfectly mimicking his trademarked one, she plucked the half smoked cigarette from his lips and crushed it under her boot. Before he could protest, she planted a quick kiss on his mouth.

“What if whatever it is happens before he’s done?” Spike asked as she took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“He translated enough to know it won’t happen for another five weeks. Something about the position of the stars and moon. He’ll be done long before that, and we’ll have time to get ready.”

Spike nodded absently as they continued their patrol. Buffy was hesitating about telling him that Dawn might be a part of the Prophecy when tingles down her spine distracted her. She gave Spike a look, and he nodded again as she pointed toward a nearby crypt. A rather bulky vamp was entering it, and even from a distance they could hear noise coming from inside.

“Nest,” Spike whispered.

“How many do you think?” Buffy asked just as quietly.

“No idea. Awfully noisy. Might be quite a few. Let’s find out.”

With no further words, they strode to the crypt’s entrance, two predators gliding smoothly and noiselessly in the shadows. Each had a stake in hand when they burst through the door, expecting at least a dozen opponents. Instead, they found only three loud and apparently drunken vamps. They were dust before they even had a chance to get a good look at the intruders.

“Bugger. I would have sworn there would be more in here.”

Buffy couldn’t help raising a questioning eyebrow at the disappointment she could hear in Spike’s voice. He was pulling out his cigarettes, yet again, and she snatched the packet from him before he could light one.

“OK. Clue one, you’re smoking non-stop. Clue two, you’re itching to kill, even more than usual. Clue three, you left Dawn and Steven alone without a word of protest. Are you ill or something?”

Spike watched her warily for a while, before shaking his head and sitting on one of the sarcophagi that graced the crypt.

“Bit and I had a little talk,” he said slowly. “Or rather, she talked. And told me in no uncertain terms to mind my own business.”

Buffy moved in front of him, fitting her hips between his legs where they dangled off the stone coffin. She ran her fingers through his hair as she detailed his features. He looked a bit down, and that was an understatement.

“What did she say that hurt you so much?”

A hesitation, a flash of pain, and then a quiet but firm declaration.

“Nothing but the truth.”

By the determined light in his eyes, Buffy could tell he wouldn’t answer any further. She didn’t press the matter, but made the mental note to ask Dawn.

“Are we doing a few more sweeps? Or did you have enough patrol for tonight?”

He made a face as he answered.

“Don’t really fancy going home to listen to them.”

Buffy laughed at that, remembering how Dawn had once promised her to get revenge for all the times her sleep had been disturbed.

“Let’s get back to work then, Big Bad.”

Before she could pull away, his legs suddenly surrounded her, trapping her against him.

“No work,” he purred. “Big Bad wanna play.”

As he spoke, his hands had found their way under her duster, and suddenly it was on the floor.

“Here?” she said doubtfully, eyeing the dusty crypt and its inhospitable stone furniture.

“Why not?” he whispered as he nibbled on her earlobe. “You used not to mind crypts.”

Getting caught up in his game, Buffy divested him of his duster as he had removed hers, before attacking the buttons of his shirt.

“Your crypt was much nicer than this,” she jokingly protested. “And you had a bed.”

“Which we barely ever reached,” he reminded her smugly.

Twin shirts, one red, one black, came off almost simultaneously, leaving Buffy clad in her jeans and bra and Spike bare above the waist.

“Whose fault?” Buffy continued as she trailed her lips on his chest, “You were always all over me.”

“I was? As in, I’m not any more? As in, it was just me doing everything?”

He cupped her chin with his right hand and brought her face up toward his. Oh, that smile…it was hers and no one else’s. Only with her did he ever share his true smile…not a smirk, so tender, so loving, so purely him.

She approached his lips, certain that they tasted as good as they looked, but he stopped her.

“You didn’t answer, Slayer. Is it only me? Or do you crave my touch as I crave yours?”

As the soft words passed his lips, his hand glided along her face, stroking down her neck and shoulder, then following her arm. Buffy shuddered at the caress, moving closer to his body to press her skin to his.

“Crave too,” she managed to reply. “Always.”

The smile returned, even softer than before.

“What am I to you, Buffy?” he murmured.

His mouth was on her face now, pressing burning kisses on every inch of her forehead, cheeks, nose, chin. Both his hands were now running over her arms, shoulder and back. All of it felt so good that she didn’t even realize her own hands were resting, immobile, on his thighs.

“You’re the man I love,” she replied huskily. “My lover. My Sire. My friend. My partner.”

Her voice grew quieter with each word, until it was nothing but a whisper against his lips. At last he allowed their mouths to join, sending a wave of desire through Buffy. So soft, these lips. She could never tire of them. When he let her, she could spend hours just kissing and touching them. Slowly they parted against hers, and her tongue accepted the invitation eagerly. It caressed his gently for a second, but quickly they were battling for dominance. Somehow, as they devoured each other’s mouth, Spike managed to remove her bra and unfasten her jeans, which Buffy only noticed when they separated, both panting.

“Your turn,” she breathed heavily, resting her forehead against his. “What am I to you?”

He stilled completely then, his hands on her hips, his eyes looking deep into her soul. He said just one word, and the sound was a caress to Buffy’s mind.

“Everything.”