Two Weeks into Therapy

"Okay, when I tell you to, I want you to push against my hand," Buffy instructed, holding Spike's right foot.

Spike attempted to flex the muscles in his thigh that would propel his leg forward. There was no movement. "Well this works well," he commented. "I did it yesterday." He glared at his leg when it refused to obey him.

"Try again," she prodded.

Again, nothing.

"Hmm. Maybe tomorrow," she said, lowering his leg and lifting the left one. "Push." This time the pressure was strong, propelling her backwards slightly. She looked at Spike's face and saw that beads of sweat had popped up on his forehead in his exertion. "Relax," she said again.

"Must be left-legged," Spike commented, his tightly contracted leg muscles releasing.

"Yeah..." Buffy said as she placed his leg back onto the sheets. "You up for some more, or do you want your rubdown now?"

"Few more times with the other leg wouldn't 'urt," he said.

"You sure?" she asked.

"Yeah. Go for it."

She shrugged. "Okay..." she said as she hefted his right leg once more, cradling his calf in one palm and cupping the arch of his foot in the other hand. "Push..."

~*~*~*~*~

"Grraaahh!" Spike roared as his right calf siezed up, waking him. He grasped the trapeze bar overhead and pulled himself up until he was sitting in bed, and then, gritting his teeth against the pain, shifted himself over into the wheelchair, which he quickly rolled towards his door. He yanked the door open and propelled the chair down the hall, stopping outside Buffy's closed door.

He fisted his left hand and began to pound on the door, continuing until she yanked it open. She stood before him in a white camisole and panties, and if he'd been in less pain, he could've fully appreciated the view. "What's wrong?" she asked blearily. Spike gritted his teeth and pointed at his calf, not speaking. "Oh, god..." she mumbled, immediately falling to her knees in front of him and beginning to massage the fist-sized lump in his calf.

The wheelchair-bound man clenched his jaw, waiting for the pain to dissipate as Buffy continued to rub the cramped muscle. It slowly began to relax, and he sighed heavily. "Sorry I woke you," he said quietly, staring down at her while she worked.

"It's no problem," she replied, her hands still moving up and down his calf. Two more deep strokes into the muscle and the cramp was gone, and she looked up... directly at his naked groin. "Jeez!" she exclaimed, falling backwards on her butt. "Again with the nudity!"

"Sorry, luv," he chuckled. "Habit. Can't sleep in clothes."

Buffy rolled her eyes, standing. "All better?" she asked, forcing her gaze not to travel lower than his chest. Nice chest... her inner monologue admitted. No... I'm not supposed to think that my patients are attractive...

"Yeah. Thanks, luv." He turned the wheelchair, preparing to leave.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?" he asked, halting the chair.

"Goodnight."

"Night, Summers."

~*~*~*~*~

"Alright, Spike," Buffy encouraged, "You can do this."

"I bloody well can't," he argued, eyeing the parallel bars skeptically.

"You can rest all your weight on your arms if you want. That's what the bars are for. But," she huffed, "hurry up and make up your mind. You're getting heavy." She shifted her arms around his back slightly, redistributing his weight.

"I can't," he said again.

"Spike, if you grab hold of those bars right now, I swear I won't bug you for the rest of the day," Buffy promised.

Spike's arms slowly extended, his hands wrapping around the bars tightly. He locked his elbows and Buffy eased her arms away from his body. "I'm standin'."

"Yeah, you are." His knees buckled, and Buffy's arms immediately wrapped tightly around him. "Whoa there..." she soothed. "I've got you. The wheelchair is right behind you, if you need to sit down."

"Yeah, probably not a bad idea, luv," Spike responded, looking down at the top of her head. She lowered him to the chair, then rotated her shoulders and stretched the muscles of her arms out, wincing slightly. Spike noticed the small grimace and offered, "Want me to massage that shoulder for you, Summers?"

"You don't have to - " she protested.

"I want to." His expression was firm as he rolled backwards to give her room to get out of the bars. "C'mere," he coaxed.

Buffy sighed in resignation. "How do we do this?"

"Have a seat," he said, indicating his lap.

"Um..."

"I promise I won't bite," he chuckled. "Sit."

Buffy sat on his shorts-clad knees, and he immediately began to prod the flesh of her shoulder, pressing deeply into the muscle tissue. She hissed in pain as his hands reached the tender spot on her arm.

"Relax," he said, his breath fanning across the back of her neck, causing the fine hairs there to stand on end. "Spike's got you."

A tingle shot down her spine, and she stood suddenly. "Yeah, thanks. It's a lot better now," she said, stepping back. "I guess I'll leave you alone now." She turned toward the door.

Spike's hands dropped down to his lap. He cleared his throat. "Erm... luv... Buffy, I don't mind so much."

At the sound of her name, she halted and turned around. "Don't mind what?" she asked.

"You know... you hangin' about. I don't mind. Truth be told, it gets sort of... lonely 'ere." He looked up at her, his blue eyes mesmerizing.

Buffy tore her gaze from his, looking at a spot on the wall just above his head. "I was just gonna go downstairs and see if I could beat your Playstation, but if you want..." she trailed off, her hands gesturing in the air.

"I could kick your ass at Playstation, Summers," Spike declared, an evil glint in his eyes.

"Oh, really?" she asked, a perfectly-shaped eyebrow rising. "I'll have you know that I've beaten almost every guy I know."

He rolled over to his dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out a shirt, which he placed in his lap, then closed the drawer again. The threadbare tee with the Manchester United insignia printed across the front tousled his hair as he yanked it over his head. "Race you," he laughed, wheeling quickly out the door and down the hall. He stopped at the elevator, jabbing the button with his thumb, then rolled into the car, riding it down to the first floor. He got out of the elevator and made a sharp left into the lounge.

Buffy arrived just seconds later, slightly out of breath from sprinting. "You could've at least held the elevator," she complained. "Meanie." She walked over to where he was sitting, by the cabinet that held all his video games. "Let's play this one," she said, plucking an auto-racing game from the shelf.

Ten minutes later, Buffy exclaimed, "Hey! No fair!" as Spike's car cut her off, sending hers careening into a barricade.

He chuckled, steering the car through a few more obstacles. Buffy's car sped up behind his, and he now began swerving in an attempt to keep her from passing him. The track branched off ahead, a dirt road going off to the right, and Buffy veered onto it, speeding up to the highest that the car could go without flying sideways off the gravel. She squinted in concentration, speeding up just a little more as a jump appeared. The car flew over the jump, landing on the track just ahead of Spike's.

"Oi!" he shouted, braking slightly as she sped onward.

"Told you I was good at this," she said smugly as her red racecar crossed the finish line just before Spike's black one did. She jumped up and did a little victory dance, pumping her arm in the air. "That's seven guys who can't beat me." She sat back down in the easy chair. "Wanna play again?" she asked, grinning widely at him.

He was silent, gazing openly at her.

"What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"You're beautiful when you're happy," he murmured, his eyes on her mouth.

Buffy stood up and began to pace. "Not good," she said. "This goes against the doctor-patient ethics. Just because you're gorgeous and you think I'm..."

"Beautiful," he finished for her.

"Yeah, that, but it doesn't mean we can act on it. You're my patient, and it's just... wrong, and..."

Spike's hand shot out and grabbed her forearm, yanking her to him. He cupped the back of her head in his other hand, pulling her mouth toward his. "Shut up, Buffy," he murmured huskily, right before his lips claimed hers.

Their first kiss was gentle, lips tasting and caressing tentatively. They pulled apart, gazing into each other's eyes, before their heads dipped inward again for a second taste. Spike sucked Buffy's lower lip into his mouth, his tongue running back and forth over it, and she responded by opening her own mouth and allowing his tongue access. She climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs in the wheelchair, then wrapped her arms about his neck. The moment that their tongues touched, they began a passionate battle for dominance, thrusting and parrying in the warm caverns of their mouths. Buffy's hands travelled down to his chest, bunching the soft fabric of his shirt as one of Spike's hands snaked underneath her tank top and caressed the skin just beneath her right breast, then his fingers enclosed the soft mound of flesh.

They both moaned low in their throats at the contact, deepening the kiss. Lack of oxygen soon made them light-headed and they pulled apart for a moment, resting their foreheads against one another as they gasped for breath.

"Bloody 'ell," Spike whispered reverently, dragging a stray lock of hair away from Buffy's face with a shaking hand.

"Yeah," Buffy replied, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she attempted to regain organized thought. He kissed her earlobe and a delicious little shiver ran through her. "Stop that," she said weakly.

"Stop what, luv?" Spike asked as he sucked her lobe into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

The tips of Buffy's fingers trailed up across his neck. "Stop making me want to drag you upstairs and jump into bed with you."

"Why?" he half-moaned as his hard cock twitched from the imagery.

"Because it's wrong...?" she feebly argued, attempting to extricate herself from his embrace. She stood up. "I'm hungry, do you want something?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.

"I'm fine," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed as she walked out of the room and toward the kitchen. She padded on bare feet into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a pint of red raspberries that she'd asked Gina to make. She opened the plastic container and popped a few of the fruits into her mouth.

The telephone rang as she chewed. "Casa de Spike, what can I do ya for?" she answered.

There was a small pause, and then a polite female voice addressed her. "May I speak with William, please?"

"Sure. Hold on a sec." Buffy held her palm against the mouthpiece and shouted, "Spike! Phone!"

She was greeted with silence for a moment, and then Spike's voice echoed back to her. "I got it in 'ere! You can hang up now!"

Buffy pressed the 'talk' button on the cordless phone, setting it down on the counter. She ate a few more of the raspberries, then put the container back into the refrigerator and got herself a bottle of water, hopping up onto a barstool and unscrewing the cap. After taking a few absent sips, she closed the bottle and left the kitchen, going back upstairs to her room. She set the water down on her dresser, then shed her clothing and pulled on her bikini. She went back downstairs, preparing to do a few laps in the swimming pool. She walked into the pool room and was poised to dive in when Spike's voice stopped her.

"That was Dru," he said. "She's comin' out to visit."

"Oh," Buffy responded, diving under the water. She came up and began to tread water. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Neat," she said, taking a deep breath and allowing herself to sink to the bottom of the pool. She stared up, the water causing the glass room to appear as if it were the set of a surrealist film. Her lungs began to ache and she popped up to the surface again, ihaling the fresh air. "Guess you two will want some alone time then," she commented, shifting her weight so she floated on her back.

"Probably."

"I'll just... give you your morning session and then go to LA I guess."

Spike made a consenting hand-gesture. "You need a car?" he asked. "Go ahead an' take one of mine."

"Thanks." She dove beneath the surface of the water again, kicking furiously until she reached the wall at the shallow end. "Spike? What say we forget about what just happened in there?" she suggested, cocking her head toward the lounge.

"Yeah... if that's what you want."

"I just think it would be better... you know?"

"Yeah."

~*~*~*~*~

Drusilla Chapin strolled up the walkway at 8:30 AM, expensive sunglasses firmly planted on her nose. She rang the doorbell and then stepped back, folding her slender arms across her chest.

"Ah, Miss Chapin. So nice to see you again," Gina greeted kindly.

The brunette handed her coat to Gina. "Likewise, I'm sure," she said drily. "Where is William?"

"He should be in his room, I think," the older woman responded.

"Thank you, Gina. That will be all."

Gina nodded and watched as Drusilla walked purposefully toward the staircase, then sighed and carried away her coat.

The figure skater made her way down the hall, planning on waking her lover. She opened the door and quickly slunk inside the room.

"Buffy?" Spike asked blearily, hearing the door close.

"It's me, my pet," Drusilla purred, climbing onto the bed and straddling Spike's waist. "Did you miss your princess?"

"Dru?"

"Who else?" the brunette asked, nipping lightly at his jawline. "Do you have some time to play before the nasty therapist comes?"

"Yeah, pet. I do."

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy walked down the hall, carrying a tray laden with breakfast foods. She stopped at the door at the end of the hallway, turning the doorknob and swinging the door open. "Spike, wake up. I brought you some break - " she stopped speaking abruptly as she noticed the scene before her. Spike was very much awake, passionately kissing a petite brunette whose hands were roving all over his chest.

Spike broke away from Drusilla, inhaling shakily. He noticed Buffy standing frozen in the doorway, staring at them, and he spoke. "Buffy?"

"I'll just... come back later..." she mumbled, turning to leave.

"No, no it's fine," he insisted. "Dru, playtime's over..."

The brunette got off Spike and straightened her clothing, then turned to the blonde woman that still stood in the doorway. "Ah, you must be the therapist," she said. "Look, William, she brought us breakfast." She motioned for Buffy to come forward. "Well, don't just stand there," she snapped. "Bring it here."

"Yeah. Sorry," Buffy said, carrying the tray into the room. She set it down on the nightstand, clearing her throat. "Tell you what. Why don't we skip your therapy for the day?"

"An excellent idea," Drusilla commented, looking at Spike hungrily. "Run along now."

"Alright. I'll just go... go." Spike didn't get a chance to protest as the blonde woman left the room, then hurried to her own room and changed from her exercise clothes into a pair of dark blue flares and a white halter top. On her feet she wore black leather boots, and she slipped a pair of sunglasses onto the top of her head before grabbing a short leather coat and her handbag. She then walked stiffly down the stairs, straight into the kitchen. "No therapy session today," she said to Gina. "I need the keys to Spike's fastest car."

Minutes later the red Mustang convertible roared out of the garage and down the drive, the tires squealing as it turned onto the main road. Buffy unzipped her purse with one hand and pulled out a cell phone. She dialed and then held it up to her ear.

"Hey, Faith?" she said above the noise of the wind that whipped through the car. "You're still in LA, right? Wanna do something today?" There was a pause as she listened to the voice on the other end. "I'm on my way to the city... yes, right now... great. I'll be there in two hours."

Author's Note: I really do need to be doing things other than writing this story. And hey, you didn't think that it was gonna stay all happy forever, did you? Don't worry, I'll make it all better. This has definitely become an accelerated storyline, because everyone in chat over at Spuffy Archives was begging me to write some Spuffy lovin'. Huh. First time I've had to cut out 3 chapters of storyline to appease my readers. Maybe sometime I'll sit down and write this chronologically day by day, but that's not likely. Thanks to all my great reviewers, and to Kella and Flames, I hope that you get everything sorted out. ~*~ Magz

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