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Running from the Inevitable by The Enemy of Reality
 
Chapter one
 
A/N: I wanted to wait until New Year to post this, but guess what... I couldn't wait! Yes, I'm sure you all condemn me for my impatience. Also, I'm well aware the title may suck hairy balls but I couldn't come up with anything clever. There are mentions of Angel and Dru... but that's what they are... mentions. Therefore I didn't think it warranted Spike/other, Buffy/other warning. And yes, I'm shutting up now so you can go on and read already. ;)

Beta'd by the amazing All4Spike and BloodyHell. Thank you guys!!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Chapter 1


Sitting on a couch in her very un-sexy sweat pants with a tub of ice-cream in her lap, Buffy sighed. Heavily. So what if it was a Friday night and she was home alone, having a pig out while wallowing in self-pity? She had more than earned the right. High school was over and while a part of her rejoiced in that, another part of her kind of missed it.


She missed the library sessions, though not so much the researching part if she was being honest. She missed walking with Willow and Xander down the halls. God, even trying to avoid Snyder as he followed her every move with his beady eyes. They had defeated The Mayor a week ago and now all there was left of Sunnydale High was debris and stench of burnt demon meat. Not that her heart was in a much better condition after Angel had decided to stomp all over it for her own good.


Buffy shoved a spoonful of chocolate ice-cream into her mouth as she scowled at the television screen. So many channels and not even one thing worth watching.


She knew she was being bitter. But who wouldn’t be? Even though she understood why Angel had left, she couldn’t help but feel resentful of him for not even trying to stick around for a while longer. It wasn’t like she would live long enough to see her first wrinkle. What’s a few years for someone who could live forever? He could have stayed and they could have worked things out. Tried to anchor his soul. Just… something. Instead there he went, all ‘we cannot be together, Buffy’ and blah, blah, blah.


Brows drawn together in a frown, Buffy switched from one channel to another, wishing her mom had stayed home.


Stupid buying trips.


Sulking wouldn’t feel nearly as pitiful if she didn’t do it alone, but Willow was on a date with Oz and Buffy had made an excuse of having to patrol instead. Willow adopted that kicked puppy look that made Buffy feel guilty for lying, but she was no third wheel agent this time. Xander wasn’t much help either since he was doing his part in supporting American economy by delivering pizza goodness.


As she ate more ice-cream, Buffy realized she must be the most pathetic person in Sunnydale right now.


Her head whipped around as she heard a crash outside. It had better not be a demon or she’d stick the spoon in a place where the sun didn’t shine. There was a tinny sound as trashcans hit the pavement.


Maybe it’s just a raccoon.


With her luck, it would probably turn out to be something slimy and disgusting that would ruin her favourite lounging sweat pants. Buffy stood up and approached the window, peering into the darkness as she tried to pinpoint the source of late night vandalism.


A black heap of something-- or more likely someone-- was sprawled across her front lawn. Buffy rushed to the door and swung it open. Her jaw dropped as she spotted the obviously drunken form of the obnoxious vampire.


“Slayer!” he snarled and knelt up, bottle of alcohol clasped safely in his hand.


“Spike, what the hell are you doing? And here?”


She couldn’t believe his nerve. Did he want to get even deader? Clutching the spoon, she graced him with her best ‘you’re dust’ stare. “I so don’t have time for this,” she muttered.


Spike managed to stand up and made his way toward her on wobbly legs. At one point Buffy thought he was going to trip over his boots and fall face first on the ground. Well, at least it would have made her night a lot more entertaining.


“You gotta… make things right,” he slurred and focused on making it up the steps.


“Do not even think of coming closer, buddy.”


“Or what? Gonna slay me?”


“If you’re coming any closer your booze breath will probably slay me instead,” she muttered.


Spike ignored her and dragged himself up on to the porch to stand nose to nose with her, separated by the door-step. “You’re the one to blame, you know. It’s all your bloody fault that Dru doesn’t want me anymore… daft cow.”


“You better not have been referring to me with that last comment,” she said with narrowed eyes.


“Is that chocolate?” Spike asked hopefully as he craned his neck to peer into the tub tucked in the crook of her arm.


“Yes and… What is your damage, Spike?” she asked incredulously. “Really. I’d like to know. You do realize I am the Slayer, right? Good with pointy wooden objects? Killing your kind? Ring any bells?”


“Yeah, yeah. I’m trembling in my boots,” he replied and took a swing from the bottle. “Can I have some?”


“Okay, what part of what I said did you not unders-”


“Please, Slayer. What’s a little snack sharing between enemies?”


Buffy stared.


Spike pouted.


She rolled her eyes and was about to slam the door in his face when Spike suddenly lost his balance and fell forward, knocking the ice-cream container out of her hand. As the impact with the ground knocked the breath out of her, the situation got even worse when she found herself squished by the vampire lying on top of her. A vampire who had obviously passed out, his face buried in her neck. Her eyes widened as she realized Spike had a free pass into her house.


She had totally forgotten to have Willow revoke his invitation! What kind of a Slayer was she?


Shoving his heavy weight off her with a huff of irritation, Buffy stood up and dragged him inside before closing the door. This was turning out to be a night out of bizarro world. And what was even stranger was that Spike managed not to lose the hold of the liquor as he lost consciousness. Go figure.


Hauling him on to the sofa, Buffy contemplated her next move. Maybe she should just stake him and be done with it. She would be doing the world a favour, certainly saving a lot of lives. How did her night go from watching crappy TV to having one of the most dangerous vampires passed out on her couch? The Powers That Be must get a kick out of playing with her this way.


He doesn’t look that annoying right now. Maybe because he’s not talking.


Buffy tilted her head as she regarded him, deciding to take off his boots. Mom would murder her if she found dirt on the upholstery. As she knelt down and took them off, it occurred to her how entirely ridiculous this situation was. She, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, was tending to William the Bloody. Taking off his boots, no less.


Huh, Spike has feet.


Of course, she knew that, but she’d never actually seen them. His feet looked oddly vulnerable dressed in socks. Her hands flew to her mouth as she desperately tried to muffle the onslaught of giggles.


Spike’s socks were… unusual to say the least. What in the world had possessed him to put on yellow ones with little red hearts was beyond her. He must have been completely wasted. Her eyes trailed up his stretched form and made an innocent stop to take in his crotch area where the top button was undone. She briefly wondered how that had happened. On the second very unpleasant note, those jeans might have as well been painted on for what little they left to her imagination.


No wonder he always swaggers around all cocky… okay, bad choice of words.


She blushed. His black t-shirt rolled up to reveal a patch of smooth skin. Buffy’s fingers twitched with a sudden urge to touch him there and trace the trail of soft hair disappearing into the jeans.


Oh, what do we have here? Damn… stupid teenage hormones.


What in the hell was wrong with her? Spike equaled major ick! What with his beacon like retro hair and outdated fashion choices, and obsession with the nutcase. Also, she was still staring. Damn him!


Spike shifted and her eyes quickly jerked to his face, then she let out a breath she’d been holding. If he had caught her ogling him, she would have to kill him because there was no way he’d let it slide. Her gaze flickered down to the parts she’d been assessing before the incredibly rude interruption. The black T-shirt had ridden higher with his squirming and Buffy parted her lips in a slight ‘o’. Spike’s abdominals were… nice. Very nice. Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to cover up their bodies with obnoxious clothes.


He’s not a man, he’s a vampire.


Looks pretty manly to me.


This is Spike you’re talking about!


I wish he would turn around so I could get a look at his butt. Stupid duster is always covering it up.


Would you get your mind out of the gutter, for God’s sake?


I’m a teenager. My mind is supposed to be in the gutter.


Why do I even bother?


That’s what I’d like to know.


Buffy shook her head. She really had to stop having inner dialogues. It was way creepy.


Spike’s hand rested on his chest and Buffy noticed that his T-shirt was turned inside out. The T-shirt, the unbuttoned jeans, the funny socks. What in the hell had he been doing? Her eyes widened.


So don’t want to know.


As soon as her gaze shifted to look at his neck, she got distracted. She never knew a man’s neck could be sexy, but boy had she been wrong. No wonder Drusilla wanted to sink her teeth into him. His throat was slightly arched, Adam’s apple barely moving under his smooth pale skin. The slope of his neck was graceful, vulnerable yet strong as it joined his jaw. And…


Oh God, she was doing it again. It must have been the ice-cream. It was evil! Probably made from some Hellmouthy demon milk or something.


Buffy bit her lip and inadvertently leaned closer. He really did have a beautiful face for such an irritating vampire. His lips looked soft and quite feminine when he wasn’t sneering or smirking at her. And what right did he have to have such dark thick eyelashes? Why did men always have to have those? It made her want to punch him. Something as evil as him had no right to have a face like that.


Warily, Buffy lifted her hand and poked his shoulder with her index finger to wake him up. Spike scrunched up his face and before she could react, he snatched her hand and tucked it against his cheek, still soundly asleep.


Crap, now what, you genius?


Trying to get it out of his strong grasp proved to be impossible. Spike growled every time she even attempted to take her hand back, his hold tightening.


“Mmmm,” he let out and smacked his lips, cuddling her hand closer under his chin. Then he tugged at her whole arm—hard-- and Buffy toppled half on top of him, noticing distantly that the bottle was finally released from his grasp and rolled away from the couch. Still sleeping, Spike hugged her close and let out a deep rumbling noise that reverberated across her skin.


Okay, this is bad. No cuddling with the soulless blood-suckers, Buffy. And hey, vampires purr?


“Slayer,” he muttered and Buffy’s eyes widened. His eyes were closed. Was he talking in his sleep? Why would he say her name, or title as the case may be? Then Spike’s hand wandered down her back to rest at her bottom before he switched their positions. Buffy found herself pressed into the couch, under him for the second time that night. Now this would be hard to explain if someone caught them.


God, she felt so pathetic that being so close to Spike of all non-people was kind of comforting. Even if he smelt like he’d been soaking in alcohol for a few days.


And on that mental note… Could I be any needier? Get it together, Buffy.


Spike nuzzled her cheek and Buffy’s breath caught in her throat when he ground his pelvis against hers. She could also hear the shift of his facial bones that set her Slayer alarm on a high alert and she finally realized what she was doing. Or more like lack of it. With as much force as she could muster, she pushed him off her with her face scrunched up in disgust.


He crashed to the floor with a loud thump and a groan. His hazy yellow eyes met hers in confusion before they melted into blue accompanied by a hopeful expression.


“Slayer? Can I have that ice-cream now?”


TBC


A/N: Let me know if you'd like to see more. I'm not a mind-reader, you know. ;) And I can hear what you're thinking right now.... "This puny human wants me to review?! *mwahaha* Like hell!" But I'd appreciate it more than you can imagine. *stares at you imploringly with her beady eyes*
 
Chapter two
 
A/N: Thank you gorgeous people who left me a review. :D You're made of win!!! I want to hand-feed you grapes as the proof of my gratitude, but it looks like my replies will have to sufice. ;)

Beta'd by the awesome ladies All4Spike and BloodyHell.

Disclaimer in full effect, baby.

Chapter 2


Buffy’s eyes widened before she bolted out of the living room.


Shit, the ice-cream!


There it was, all melted and spreading across the floor. Buffy rushed to grab paper towels from the kitchen to clean it up. Good thing there was no carpet in the foyer.


“Great,” she muttered. “What did I do to deserve this? Here I was, moping in private and that pest had to come here and-”


“Are you talking to yourself? Because that’s a first sign of insanity, Slayer. Hope you won’t go all bonkers on me,” Spike said as he sauntered over to her.


“Someone sounds a lot more sober,” she remarked with a frown.


“Yeah, well… vampire constitution. Gotta keep drinking pretty much non-stop to stay juiced. And ‘m not sober… don’t wanna be.”


Buffy rolled her eyes and wondered why she was still talking to him. “Why are you still here? Just go before I change my mind and stake you.”


Spike snorted and leaned against the door jamb as he rubbed his forehead. “Go on and do your worst. I don’t care.”


“A suicidal vamp. Great. Because my life has been so simple up to this point,” she mumbled and went into kitchen to throw the dirty paper towels and container into the trash. As soon as she turned, Spike was right there. Mere inches away from her. So close their noses were almost touching. Why didn’t she hear him move? And why wasn’t he dust yet? Apparently, Spike wasn’t the only one with a death wish.


“You have to help me,” he said. Was that desperation in his voice? She so didn’t care.


Buffy let out a humourless chuckle. “Really? And why would I do that?”


His eyes narrowed as his temper flared once more and Buffy found herself backing away as he stalked her. Her back hit the counter and she cursed her stupidity for even allowing him to get that close. Spike might be pathetic, but his fangs were still in working order.


“You’ll help me fix it because this is all your fault! Dru left me because of you! Do you think you can just prance into my life with your bouncy hair and short skirts and ruin everything?” Spike clenched his jaw and before he could get into his rant again, Buffy put her hands on his chest to shove him away.


Then the strangest thing happened.


Spike gazed at her and there was such softness in those eyes that it stunned her speechless. She was helpless to do anything but watch as he lifted his forefinger and pressed it to her cheek. Then he took it away and glanced at his fingertip.


“Eyelash,” he said and before Buffy could move, he was gone.


His words registered a moment later. “What’s wrong with my hair?”


“You got any more liquor, pet?”


“What? Would you stop searching the cupboards? I asked you a question!”


Spike swung around to face her and tilted his head. “What’s with the attire? Getting sloppy in your old age, Slayer?”


Buffy glanced down at her sweat pants and scowled. “It’s not like I was expecting anyone.”


“Not even Peaches?”


“Who?”


“You know… your poncy git of a boyfriend,” Spike said with a sneer.


“Oh. Angel. Yeah, that would be a big no. He’s kinda… not here anymore.”


“Why’s that?”


“You know, Spike… that’s none of your business,” she said.


“Couldn’t care less anyway.” He shrugged and opened the refrigerator. “Strawberries! Got any chocolate sauce?”


Buffy stared at him in disbelief then marched over to yank the box of fruit out of his hands. “Again I ask, what the hell do you think you’re doing, Spike?”


Spike arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with her unvoiced threats. “Thought it was pretty obvious. Never pegged you to be that thick, but can’t say I’m surprised. I’m stealing from your fridge,” he said with a cocked eyebrow and looked at her as if she lacked half of brain.


“Oh my God, you know that’s not what I meant!”


Fed up with him and too tired to play games with a soulless vampire, Buffy snatched a wooden spoon and pressed the sharp end against his chest. “Why. Are. You. Here?”


“Umm… already told you, Slayer. You gotta make things right.”


“What? Did Drusilla dump you again? Because as much as I do not care, I’m starting to get annoyed with you always getting back here to make trouble. Why me, Spike? Do you get a kick out of being obnoxious and complicating my life? Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe she cheats on you because she’s a ho?”


His posture tensed, jaw tightened. “Shut your mouth! Drusilla is ten times the woman that you could ever hope to be.”


“And yet you’re here,” Buffy said and put more force on the makeshift weapon.


“She left because of you and no matter what I say or do can convince her that she’s being… well… off her rocker. Or more so than usual.”


“And you want me to what?”


Spike’s shoulders slumped, his gaze darting around the kitchen to avoid looking at her. “Eh… dunno… I was planning on cutting your head off and bringing it to her on a silver platter.” He eyed the spoon nervously.


Was he for real? Surely even Spike had more sense than that, right? Then again, it was Spike.


“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end you.”


“Because I didn’t?”


Yup, his lack of sense had now been officially confirmed. Buffy rolled her eyes. “That’s it? You really are suicidal.”


“Come on, Slayer… I helped you save the world! Doesn’t that count as a point in my favour?”


Her lips pursed. She so had not needed his help anyway. But she’d throw him a bone. This time. “If I help you, will you stop coming back to my town to cause trouble?”


“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said with a hopeful smile.


“You’re already dead,” she replied with a scowl. Reluctantly, she removed the spoon from his chest but kept it handy. After all, she wasn’t that stupid.


“Yeah, well… it’s the thought that counts, right?”


“Just so we’re clear, there will be no trying to behead me. You try and I’ll personally cut off your testicles and make you wear them as accessories. Are we clear?”


“Bloody hell, woman. No wonder Angel left,” he muttered, but as he saw the coldness in her eyes indicating his impending demise, he added, “No beheading. Got it.”


“So what’s the big plan?”


“Err… you mean other than bringing you to her as my trophy? Nothing much.”


“You don’t have any plan?” she asked incredulously. Seriously? And why was she even surprised by this?


“Never think too much ahead, to be honest.”


“Not thinking at all would be more like it,” she mumbled under her breath.


“Oi! I heard that.” Spike leaned against the fridge, folded his arms across his chest. “Besides, it‘s not like you’re a thinker yourself. Got frumpy librarian for that, don’t you?”


“Giles is not frumpy.” Buffy furrowed her brows as one of his remarks registered in her brain. “What did you mean she left you because of me?”


Spike squirmed under her gaze, arms dropping to his sides as he glanced away. She got suspicious. What was he hiding from her?


“Ummm… the… ah… the truce!” He pointed at her. “Yeah, that’s right. Dru left me because you made me help you with the whole poncy world saving thing and now she thinks I’ve gone all soft. Which is a load of bollocks because just yesterday I-”


“Do not even think of finishing that sentence if you don’t want to see your unlife flash before your eyes,” Buffy said. “So I see the torturing her bit didn’t really work out for you. What a shocker.”


He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. And Spike being bashful? Kind of funny.


“I’ve never been really into the whole pre-show. That was more Angelus’ thing. Me, I’ve never really liked hurting her even though most times, that’s what she wanted,” Spike said without meeting her eyes.


While the Angelus comment stung, it wasn’t something Buffy could ignore and neither was the fact that Spike just admitted he didn’t like torturing someone he loved. He was either lying to get into her good graces or he was just really weird for a vampire. She was leaning towards the former.


“Have you ever thought about… you know… moving on?”


Spike stared at her like she’d sprouted a tail and horns. She glanced behind just to be sure. This was Hellmouth, after all. Also, he looked as though his eyes might pop out of his head. They better not. She did not want any eyeballs rolling down her floor. Mom made her mop it two days ago!


Moving on? I’ve bloody loved that woman for more than a century and you’re telling tell me I should move on?”


“Well, I hate to say it… actually, I don’t… but she obviously has. I mean what point is there if she doesn’t love you back?”


“She does love me! Maybe not in the same way as I love her, but she cares about me as much as someone so damaged can,” he said. “I miss her.”


His shoulders slumped; Buffy felt a fleeting moment of sympathy. Then she realized who she was feeling it for and stomped on the unwelcome feeling as quickly as she could. He didn’t deserve her compassion.


“You’re pathetic, you know that?”


“I can join your club then.”


Okay, be kind, rewind. He better not have been implying that she was pathetic. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked with just the right hint of threat in her voice.


At least she wasn’t the one who sniffled like a little girl upon seeing hydrants and dilapidated benches. ‘Oh, me and Queen of the Damned killed a homeless man here, yada freaking yada.’ He so had no right to cast any stones… because of the whole glass houses thing and stuff.


“I’m not the one who’s been holed up at home, eating ice-cream on a Friday night,” he pointed out way too smugly.


“No, you were too busy falling drunk on your face.” Ha! Take that, smart-ass.


“I had a good reason!”


“So did I!” she yelled back.


“Well, boo-hoo, Slayer. You and Angelus were together what… a couple of years at most? A few months? You couldn’t have been together that long before you spread your dimpled knees for him.” He sneered and eyed the knees in question. “Then his soul buggered off… which, thanks again for ruining my life. Like putting me in a wheelchair wasn’t bad enough. And the last time I was here, you two were very busy not dating.” He tilted his head. “So tell me, Slayer, how does that compare with what I and Dru had?”


Buffy opened her mouth and closed it again, not knowing which insult to address first and if she in fact had a valid argument. “It’s Angel, not Angelus and my knees are not dimpled!”


Spike shook his head, giving her a mock pitying look. “See? That just proves how little you really know him. Angel, Angelus, Where is the diff besides having the guilt forced upon him to restrain those urges? They’re still there, under the surface of those puppy-dog eyes. He’s still the same broody, manipulative wanker with a penchant for blondes that he’s ever been. The only difference is that he’s playing for the other team. And if you’re so naïve not to see that, then I feel sorry for you.”


Feeling the sudden urge to hit him and wipe that know-it-all expression from his face, her hands closed into fists.


“You know nothing about what we had, Spike and don’t even pretend to care. I love him.”


“No, you love the idea of him. Bloody Prince Charming, all dark and mysterious that saves the day and sweeps you off your feet.”


“I don’t need anyone to sweep me off my feet. I’m the Slayer,” she hissed through the clenched teeth.


“Ain’t that the rub, pet? No matter how strong you are, how independent, in your heart… deep down… you know what you want is not to be alone, to share the burden with someone else and to simply let them be the strong one for once. And whether you wanna hear it or not, Angel will never be that bloke. His ego is far too big to take someone else’s feelings into consideration for the long haul.”


“That’s not true. He loves me. I know he does.”


“Not saying he doesn’t. Just not enough to stay,” Spike said and stared into her eyes.


“He left me because it was the right thing to do. So I could have a normal life.”


Spike let out a laugh. “Is that what he told you? Bloody priceless! You’re the Slayer. Newsflash, you’ll never have a normal life. But you already know that, so who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”


Buffy turned her face away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. What right did he have to play mind games with her? He had no idea what he was talking about.


Spike stared at her profile. “I’d never leave the person I love, especially knowing how much danger you’re in every day. Even if I had to hide in the shadows and just watch your back without being able to touch you, I’d do it. Been with Dru for over hundred years knowing she’d never love me the way I love her, haven’t I? Never stopped me from being at her side and taking care of her.”


“Just… shut up,” she said. And the worst thing? She could feel the familiar lump burn and swell in the back of her throat. She would die before she let him see her cry.


“What? Did I take off those pink glasses off your nose? You should thank me.”


Buffy suddenly marched over to him and punched him in the nose. “Get out.”


“We have a deal,” he growled.


“Not anymore, we don’t.”


She grabbed the lapels of his duster and threw him out through the back door in the kitchen. “If you two love each other so much, you don’t need me to get her back, do you?”


With that, Buffy slammed the door before she slid down and let the tears fall down her cheeks as a million thoughts rushed through her mind.


She never noticed Spike was still standing outside the door.


TBC


A/N: Reviews make me happy, and when I'm happy, I write more. I am in no way insinuating anything by this. Just thought I should let you know. ;)
 
Chapter three
 
A/N: Thank you everyone reading and sharing your lovely thoughts. I love you more than I love winter sales! And coming from me, I assure you that's a huge deal.

Thank you All4Spike and BloodyHell for betaing this story. You're awesome!

Previously: Buffy and Spike had a verbal sparring match that resulted in Buffy locking him out of the house. But he's still there! Because it's Spike and he just doesn't leave, people. He's like a bad penny. And by 'bad', I obviously mean sex on legs.


Chapter 3


As he shuffled his feet, listening to the Slayer cry her pretty eyes out, he realized he’d never felt more out of place. Even though Spike meant every word, he almost felt guilty for what he’d said. He’d never really cared about something like that before, and the fact she made him feel like his worthless human self made his fangs itch.


Who the hell does the bitch think she is? Making me feel?


He should just barge in there, laugh at her distress and snap her neck. No, better rip her throat out and gorge on her blood. Yeah, he’d just kick down the door and grip that annoyingly luscious hair as he sank his teeth into her so slowly she’d melt right against him. She’d moan and beg him to hurt her just a little bit more.


Wait, that’s not right. Maiming and torturing, that’s the plan. Not some simpering love bite… oh, fuck. Not that word again.


This was Dru’s fault. Her and her bloody rants that had put the seed of doubt into his brain. Clenching his fists, Spike gritted his teeth as he raised his hand and banged on the door.


The sniffling stopped, thank God. There was a commotion on the other side and the Slayer yanked the door open as she stared at him with red rimmed eyes. He could see anger flashing in them and he almost grinned. That was what he wanted to see, not the pathetic sadness that made him want to do unspeakable things like nuzzle her cheek and stroke her hair while she was cuddled against him.


I really gotta stop doing that.


“What do you want? Haven’t you done enough already?” she asked and for one horrible second, Spike watched her lower lip tremble. His stomach clenched at the sight, so… disgusted he was. Yeah.


“I-”


“No! No ‘I’! I’ve had enough. You say one more word and you’re dust, got it?”


“But-”


“I’ll count to five. If you’re not gone by then, I’ll hunt you down and hack off your manly parts.”


Spike winced, but stood his ground. “If you wanted to handle my manly parts, all you had to do was ask, pet.”


Her jaw dropped open as her brain processed the innuendo and Spike waited for her outburst. Better make her furious than withstand one more second of her misery. It was making him sick in the strangest way.


Before Spike could react, she punched him in the nose with so much force he staggered and tripped over the edge of the steps, ending up sprawled on his back with a grunt of pain. The Slayer was on him in a blink. Not that he minded the straddling part so much, but the unreasonably angry gleam in her eyes didn’t bode very well for his health. Especially not for the possibility of him walking out of this with all his parts intact. One part in particular.


She raised her fist to deliver another blow, but he managed to block her hit in the last second, gripping her wrist in his hand. When the Slayer immediately raised her other fist, Spike caught it in his other hand and they ended up struggling. The parts she was currently wriggling on top of were very aware of the friction.


He groaned.


Buffy’s eyes widened as she finally realised what she was doing to him and they both froze, panting for breath. She was too distracted to notice anything was wrong. An arrow whizzed through the air and penetrated her shoulder. She let out a cry of pain and Spike rolled them over, noting they were surrounded by six attackers. They could probably take them out, but the Slayer had been injured and he didn’t like taking his chances against six tall women with crossbows. One of them was blocking the entrance to the house, so the smartest thing to do was run.


Standing up swiftly, he pulled the protesting Slayer upwards and dragged her with him as they raced down the street. He’d never admit it, but as they shot arrows at their backs, Spike purposely got behind Buffy to prevent her from being skewered. He winced as sharp pain exploded in his side.


It was probably his fault they were in this mess to begin with. Not that he’d tell her that. He didn’t much fancy fitting in an ashtray.


The DeSoto was a few meters away and they jogged towards it like a lifeline.


“Get in!” he yelled and yanked the door open before climbing in. Buffy followed him and he revved the engine. The car roared to life as he stepped on the pedal and as they tore down the street, relief spread through his chest.


********


“Why can’t life ever be simple?” Buffy asked with some difficulty as she felt around the wound in her shoulder. “This is your fault. I just… know it.”


“Ever thought it might be you they were hunting? You are the Slayer after all.”


“My life sucks. And … I hate you.”


“Would you shut your gob, Slayer?” Spike glanced at her, the smell of her blood so heady it distracted him from the pain in his side. It would be so easy to just stop the car and suck her dry. Except he should keep driving. And he wasn’t that hungry anyway.


“W-why would I when I know… it annoys you so much?”


“Here, hold the wheel, would you?” Before she could reply, he picked up her hand and closed her fingers around the wheel. “Hold it steady.”


“Wha-”


As quickly as he could, Spike closed his fist around the metal point of the arrow and broke it off before he slid it out and dropped it to the floor. His breaths came out ragged and sharp as he tried to regain control over the pain. He pushed it back and took over the wheel.


“Yours will have to wait until we stop,” he informed her.


“We could have… crashed! What the… hell were you thinking?”


“Yeah, yeah. But could you maybe save the lecture for later? It had to be done so I could drive. End of story,” Spike said and shot her a quick glance. “You’re getting really pale. More than me and that’s saying something. Try not to pass out, yeah?”


That was the last thing he needed, a passed out Slayer bleeding all over his car’s leather seat.


“What do you… care?”


“On the second thought, go on.”


“Spike?”


“Yeah?”


“I don’t feel so… good.” She let out a harsh breath and leaned her forehead against the cold window as the car hit a bump in the road, her complexion deathly sallow.


Spike furrowed his brow as he looked over at her. The bleeding hadn’t stopped yet, and she must have lost a lot of blood when the wound got jostled while they were running.


Bugger.


Her eyes were closed and Spike wasn’t sure if he should keep her conscious or let her fall asleep. Stupid humans and their body functions. His side hurt like hell, but it was just a flesh wound. A scrape, really. He’d had worse and it was already starting to heal.


He stopped the car at the nearest motel and killed the engine. Leaving the Slayer in the car for the moment, Spike stepped out and walked towards a small motel lobby.


The woman behind the reception desk that had seen better days barely even lifted her gaze from the magazine she was immersed in. Fortunately for Spike, living near Hellmouth made people turn a blind eye to lot of things. Either that or the woman was just plain daft. Before she could glance up at him and blink her false eyelashes, he was sliding his fangs into her neck and drawing in just enough blood to help him accelerate the healing. He dropped her unconscious but still alive form to the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. With a key in his hand, Spike made his way towards the car.


Calling at Buffy to wake didn’t seem to have much effect and Spike sighed, irritated. Now he had to carry her. Someone up there really had to have it in for him.


He opened the door and scooped her unconscious body into his arms. The blood trickled out of the hole in his side as he did but Spike ground his teeth and somehow managed to get car’s door closed and locked.


As he walked towards one of the dingy motel rooms, it occurred to him how light she was. Didn’t the girl eat anything? Felt like bag of bones, she did.


He kicked open the door and slammed it closed behind him before proceeding to stagger towards the bed. The wound in his side burned painfully and he could feel the wet material of the T-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin where the blood had soaked it through. His body protested with every movement and he had a half mind to drop the Slayer to the floor.


What was he doing playing a strapping hero? Spike scowled and gently put her down on her side then winced as he straightened up and assessed his own injury.


“Remind me to never pick up strange women again,” he muttered.


He was pretty sure some bird had hit on him when he was three sheets to the wind. Tall, beautiful, with a sort of feral look to her. Eerily similar to the women who attacked them. She and Spike had stumbled out of a bar and into the nearest alley, both determined to shag each other six ways to Sunday. In throes of passion, he had called out a wrong name. For some reason, the bird got real offended at that and stormed off with a promise of revenge.


Yeah, he was pretty certain the Slayer got injured because of him and his foot in the mouth disease. But she’d never get to know if he had any say in it. Neither did she need to know it was her name he had called. Now that he thought about it, this whole mess was actually really her fault.


“Stupid bitch, always ruining my life,” he muttered and grimaced as he lifted his arms to strip off the ruined t-shirt. He’d have to wash the damn thing in the sink. Couldn’t very well walk around shirtless, could he? She chose the moment to stir, hissing as she moved.


Spike rolled his eyes and marched over to the bed, helping her sit up.


“Scream if you have to,” he said and before the Slayer could comprehend what was going on, he broke off the tip and slid the arrow out. She cried out and clutched at the bleeding wound before slumping against him. He couldn’t help but notice how pleasantly warm she was.


Ripping off the horrible T-shirt she was wearing, he scanned over her half naked state with a slight leer. Then he ripped it in half, balled the ruined fabric up and pressed it against the injury from both sides to stop the bleeding. His nostrils twitched at the delicious smell of her blood and his fingertips tingled from where they came in contact with bare skin of the top of her breast.


God, but she was bleeding like a stuck pig all over the place.


She mumbled something unintelligible that sounded remotely like a threat before he nudged her to lie back. After dressing his own wound, Spike lay down on the twin bed next to hers with a heavy sigh.


********


Spike was having such a nice dream. If only the annoying buzzing would stop. Groaning, he opened his bleary eyes just in time to get smacked in the face with a pillow.


“What the-”


“Finally! God, do you sleep through anything?” The Slayer asked, seemingly in much better shape if she was already resulting to violence. Also, she was blushing. Why would she…


Spike glanced down and noticed his hand was halfway down his jeans. If he had any conscience, he’d probably be embarrassed as he slid his hand out. Instead, he smirked and rolled his tongue behind his teeth when he noticed where her eyes had wandered. “Well, aren’t you a right voyeur?”


She seemed to snap back to herself, her lips pulled taut in an angry line. Pity that. And why was she glaring at him like that? It wasn’t his fault his body was too hot to hide, was it?


“Where are we?” she asked.


Sitting up, Spike ran a hand through his messy curls. Great, now she had seen his hair was curly. His image was completely ruined. “No clue. Just stopped at the first motel I could find.”


“So you have no idea where we are?”


Did she have to shriek like that first thing in the morning? “Sorry,” he said sarcastically. “Was a bit busy bleeding and saving our hides.”


Then she glanced down, blushing again and surprising the hell out of him with the lack of insults. “Yeah… thanks.”


“Did you just say thanks? To me?” he asked, incredulous.


She seemed to shake herself out of whatever weird trance she’d been in and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”


“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


“Umm… Why did I wake up half naked?”


“Don’t worry. Didn’t sully your precious virtue or anything. I needed to stop the bleeding so I used your T-shirt… no loss there.”


“Hey! That was my favourite lounging T-shirt you’re talking about. And you better not have ogled me while I was all unconscious.”


Spike shrugged and grinned. “Can’t blame a bloke for catching a free peep-show.”


“Oh my God, I can’t believe you… you… pig!”


“That the best you can do? Must be the blood loss.”


Buffy tossed the pillow angrily at his head and swiveled on her feet to enter the bathroom.


TBC

 
Chapter four
 
A/N: A new update! Hope you're not too annoyed at that. ;)

All4Spike and BloodyHell beta'd this. Obviously, they rock.


Chapter 4


“Don’t use up all the hot water!” he called and slumped back against the bed.


She came out half an hour later wrapped in a towel, water dripping from her hair. “We need to go back.”


“Can’t,” he said.


“What? Why?”


“The sun’s up and I don’t feel like getting a tan right now,” he said with an arched eyebrow.


“Fine. Then I’ll go alone,” she said moodily.


Spike chuckled. “Now that would be a sight for sore eyes. The Slayer strutting down the highway in her knickers. Wager you could make some trucker give you a ride.” He grinned at her with his tongue tucked behind the front teeth.


Buffy glanced down at herself and at the bloodied remnants that used to be her T-shirt discarded on the bed. She still had her sweats, though there was blood on them too. Then her face lit up with a wicked grin. “Then I’ll just have to take your car.”


Spike shot to his feet and growled. “You’re touching my baby over my dead body!”


“That piece of junk? Please. And hey… you’re already dead,” she said with a smile and dived towards the car keys that were lying innocently on the bedside table. Before she could make it, Spike tackled her and they tumbled to the floor in a flurry of limbs. They rolled around, each trying to gain the dominant position when Buffy found herself straddling Spike’s hips. Her towel had come undone during the struggle and the only thing that covered her were two scraps of underwear. Not even sexy underwear but the kind one wears when they know nobody will see it. They didn’t even match. Her eyes widened in mortification.


Spike graced her with one of those evil smirks and raked his gaze from head to toes. “Nice, Slayer. Never pegged you for the boy shorts. I thought you’d be more of a thong kinda girl. I gotta say the whole Disney motif on the knickers doesn’t exactly instill much fear in me. Like the bra though. Black lace, eh? Hoping to flash someone, were you? Now that’s more like the Slayer I love to hate.”


“Oh God,” she said and shot to her feet, snatching the towel from the floor to cover herself. “Stop smirking! It was laundry day and anyway, it wasn’t like I was expecting anyone to see me half naked,” she muttered and tried to gather the tattered remnants of her dignity.


Spike sprang gracefully to his feet and snatched up the car keys before putting them into the front pocket of his jeans. And why couldn’t he cover himself up? His chest was distracting her. Because it was white, not because of any other, more perverse reason.


“You don’t say. Don’t worry, it’s not like the sight made me all aquiver. Seen much more beautiful women in my time.”


Okay, why did that remark hurt?


She scowled to cover her insecurity as the humiliation and lack of confidence swept over her.


“Well, excuse me if I don’t have fake boobs,” she muttered.


Spike just leered, inconspicuously drinking in her natural and very perky looking breasts. It wouldn’t do to let her know his hands itched to cup them, to take off that bra and lean down to…


There goes my sick obsession with the Slayer’s body parts again. I really gotta stop doing that. Damn, now she’s putting the towel back on.


Spike pouted.


********


As the sun disappeared below the horizon two hours later, Spike ducked a telephone flying at his head at the last second. How he loved the expression of pure rage on the Slayer’s face. All flushed, blood pumping, chest heaving.


“You really ought to watch that violent streak of yours. Someone might think you were abusive.”


“One more word from you and I swear I’ll put a stake through your heart!”


Nobody could really blame him for working her up into a snit with a few well placed remarks. Better to watch her spit fire than witness another hour of her sniveling.


Spike grinned, just because he’d noticed how it made her eyes narrow in ire. “Nobody’s forcing you to stay here. You’re more than welcome to have a stroll outside in all your… glory.”


He eyed her bare legs with a leer. The Slayer had taken his red shirt without asking; arguing he still had the black one to wear since he’d washed the blood out. She never neglected to complain how it stank of him. Bitch she might be, but the sight of her wearing his clothes made him hot.


“You said I looked like a stick!” She threw her hands up in the air to express her agitation.


“I was just stating a fact. Look at how skinny you are. It’s a surprise the slightest wind doesn’t blow you away.”


“Like you’re one to talk… you’re barely taller than me and… you have a scrawny butt.”


Spike merely arched his eyebrow. “Been watching my arse, have you? Should I be worried you’ll misbehave?”


“Oh please-”


“Come on… you know you want to pinch it and squeeze it-”


“Agh, you’re such a pervert!”


“Never said I wasn’t. At least I know how to have fun.”


“Yeah, maiming and killing… the regular fun hobbies,” Buffy said with a scowl.


“Don’t forget shagging.”


Buffy sputtered and threw her hands in the air. “You’re such a… male.”


Spike bit his lips and slowly traced his hand down his torso before resting it at his crotch. The way she blushed and averted her eyes made him chuckle. “Definitely got the parts.”



She made the trademark eye-roll though her cheeks were still red. “If that’s your pick up line, I doubt you ever get laid.”


“The Amazon chick from earlier would disagr-”


“Wait… what?” She stared at him. “Amazon chick? Like the ones that were chasing after us and nearly got me killed?”


Spike winced at the high pitched volume of her voice. Did she have to screech like that? Vampire with sensitive hearing here. “What? Of course not-”


“You’re such a bad liar! Oh my God… I’m gonna kill you, Spike!”


“But it wasn’t my fault. The daft bint threw a fit when I said y-… umm… let’s say she didn’t fancy me calling out a different name.”


“And now they’re after us because you’re still all hung up on your crazy ho ex-girfriend! As soon as the sun goes down, I am so going to turn you over to them. I’ll even cheer them on!”


“You still need me to get you home. Can’t very well steal my car if the keys get dusted with yours truly,” he pointed out.


“Why did you have to come to me… again? Is it your hobby to complicate my life? What-”


Her rant was interrupted by an arrow crashing through the window and embedding in the wall next to Spike’s head.


“Bugger. We’ve got company.”


Buffy graced him with a murderous expression. “You think?”


Spike shrugged. “There’s a window in the bathroom.”


The last thing she registered was Spike disappearing into the bathroom in a swirl of leather before another set of arrows whizzed through the front window. She cursed and followed him as the vengeful demon women started to pound on the door.


********


“What’s taking you so long?”


“Hold your bloody horses, I’m trying here!”


The stolen car sputtered to life when he finally managed to hotwire it just in time to see half a dozen tall skimpily clad women dash after them.


“Couldn’t you pick a faster car?” she whined.


“And here I thought you’d be bitching that I stole it.”


“It’s not like we’re keeping it.”


“I sure as hell am not. It’s a wonder that this piece of junk is still running. I hope they didn’t do anything to my baby.”


Buffy rolled her eyes. He thought it would be funny if they got stuck that way. That would show her.


“Has anyone ever told you that your obsession with that black monstrosity you call a car is bordering on sad?”


“You shut your trap when you speak of my car!”


“What? Is that like a compensation for your penis? Did I just offend your manhood? Because ‘go me’ if I did.”


Spike stepped fully on the gas, cursing under his breath about snail like cars and ungrateful Slayers. “Yeah, sorry for disappointing, but I think we both know I don’t need to compensate. You looked awfully flustered sitting on top of me a few hours ago.”


Her eyes widened, a tantalizing flush colouring her cheeks. Was she angry or just embarrassed? Either way, he liked it.


“I was not flustered. And for your information… didn’t seem that impressive to me.”


“At least try to look convincing when you’re lying,” Spike said smugly and the corners of his mouth curled upwards as she turned away from him, cheeks as red as the shirt she was wearing.


They drove down a narrow deserted road as quickly as the old car would allow. It was then that she realized she didn’t recognize any land marks. There were only occasional bushes. “Wait. Where are we going?”


“Changing the subject, are you?”


“Spike! I’m serious. Where the hell are you taking me? I thought you were supposed to take me home!”


“Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to get rid of your constant yammering, but I’ve got no clue where we are, have I? Don’t have a sodding map!”


“Gee, chill out. Just stop at the nearest gas station and we’ll ask. Then you take me home… after I kick your ass of course… and we’ll hopefully never see each other again.”


Spike let out a sigh and nodded.


********


“Would you stop hitting me? I’m trying to drive here!”


“I just remembered that this entire situation is your fault,” she said indignantly. “Besides, I like hitting you.”


“Bitch,” he muttered.


“Did you say something?”


“Me? Not at all.”


“The leather is sticking to my skin. Do you know how uncomfortable that is?”


Spike’s eyes flickered to her bare legs and he gulped. Impossible to be around she might be, but the Slayer had a decent pair of legs on her. All smooth and tanned. He could just imagine the way they would tighten around his hips as he…


“Spike, watch the road!”


“Huh?”


He returned his gaze to the road just in time to see a stray dog sitting in the middle of the road. He couldn’t care less if he ran over the blighter, but the Slayer seemed to have other ideas as she yanked the steering wheel to the side. Spike cursed as the car swerved sharply to the right. Stepping on the brakes with all his might saved them from getting flattened along with the car, but it didn’t prevent the car from leaping off the road and into trees. The force of impact made him jolt forward before his head hit the windshield.


Blackness threatened to engulf his vision as little stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. Touching his forehead, he could feel the wetness of blood trickling from the wound just as well as he could smell it. Steam rose from behind the smashed hood.


So much for giving the car back.


For some completely screwed reason, Spike’s stomach dropped at the sight of a pale bleeding Slayer. He reached over and gently ran his fingers down her cheek. If anyone asked, he would deny it fervently, but when she stirred and groaned, he felt relief flood his entire being.


She stared at him with a dazed expression and frowned. “Oh God, two Spikes. Have I died and gone to h-” Sharp pain raced through her brain. “Ow.”


“Bollocks. I think you’ve got a concussion. Barmy woman touching the wheel. What the hell where you thinking? You could have been killed because of one scabby dog. Now if it was a cat, that I could understand, but a dog? Really? You’ve got issues, Summers. No wonder the Great Poof’s puppy eyes worked so well on you. Don’t you fucking dare fall asleep!”


Buffy jumped in her seat, obviously not expecting him to shout so loudly in her face. “W-what?”


“Right. That’s it. You need to go to the hospital.”


“No! No hospital!”


“This isn’t up for discussion. And stop pouting. Doesn’t work on me, sweetheart.”


Spike stepped out of the car and rounded it before he yanked open the door of the passenger seat. Despite her protests and weak blows to his chest, Spike managed to sweep her into his arms with a sigh. Now to just get to the nearest phone booth.


Why was it that every time he returned to Sunnyhell, his unlife got turned upside down? Why can’t I stay away?


TBC


A/N: Let's hear your thoughts, kind readers. Did you like?
 
Chapter five
 
A/N: I should be writing analysis that I have to hand in at uni tomorrow. Instead I'm updating and eagerly awaiting your response. Go figure. You better enjoy! ;)

All4Spike and BloodyHell beta'd this. Why, you ask? Simple. Because they rock.


Chapter 5


His feet hurt like hell. It felt as though he’d been carrying her for miles. Only three cars had passed them by in the last hour without stopping. Not that he blamed them.


“I can walk, you know,” she remarked.


“No, you can’t, Slayer. Last time you tried, you fell right on your arse.”


“I slipped!”


Spike sighed and let her down for what seemed like the tenth time. Her stubborn streak was slowly but steadily getting stale. And as predicted, as soon as her feet hit the road, she swayed and clutched at his shoulder in order to stay on her feet.


He didn’t even bother telling her ‘told you so’.


“Okay, so maybe I’m a teensy bit nauseous,” she finally admitted.


“Teensy? You look about ready to drop. And you know what? I’m bloody tired of your squabbling, so you either let me carry your annoying little self or I leave you here. And believe me, with the way you stink to high heavens, it’s just a matter of question when some wild bear sniffs you out and makes you his dinner.”


“I stink?” she asked in a small voice.


In the most bitable way. Not that he’d tell her that. “Oh, for the love of…”


He picked her up again, noting she was probably too tired to argue anymore when she let him. Not for the first time, Spike wondered why he didn’t just dump the Slayer on the side of the road and bugger off. His unlife would be so much easier if he stopped going all soft on her. He had even lent her his coat so she wouldn’t get too cold. His coat!


Then again, she’d owe him one and he planned on juicing that for all he was worth. Maybe he’d make her provide him with life-long—hers not his—supply of smokes.


“So what did you dream of being when you were all bite sized?”


“What? Why would you even want to know?”


“Just answer the question, would you? I’m bored and if talking to you distracts me from it at least for a few minutes, I’m all for it. Now tell me.”


“Okay.” Buffy blinked. “A ballerina. Always loved the fluffy pink skirts they wore. For a bit I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. And an ice skater. That one lasted pretty long. And I must have hit my head pretty hard since I’m telling you this.”


He loved the way her breath tickled his neck even if she was kind of insulting him. He chose to ignore the last comment for the sake of tentative camaraderie. “Suits you. Not that I know you all that well, but it goes with the whole girly thing you’ve got going on.”


“You think I’m girly?’


“Well, yeah. Pretty sure none of the Slayers before you wore skirts that short or hunted in heels.”


“I don’t hunt. I patrol. And what’s wrong with my skirts?”


“Absolutely nothing,” Spike said with a happy sigh. He really liked it when she did those high kicks in them. Left little to the imagination. How many times had she gotten close to staking him because he got sidetracked?


“Stop leering.”


“Sorry, couldn’t help it. Happy memories and all that.”


Buffy’s eyes starting to droop again. “I’m tired.”


Didn’t they say victims of concussion shouldn’t doze off?


“You fall asleep and I’m dumping you on the ground.”


Her eyes shot open. “You wouldn’t!”


“Is that right? Don’t get too comfy, Slayer. I’m a vampire. Grrr!”


“Then why haven’t you bitten me yet? It’s not like you didn’t have the chance when I was unconscious.”


Spike shrugged and tightened his hold on her. “Don’t want a pity kill. I want you to fight me. No fun otherwise.”


“You’re strange.”


Spike raised his chin and sniffed haughtily. “No, I’m a rebel.”


“You sure are. And it might be my concussion talking but I think I see a gas station.”


Spike peered into the darkness and sure enough, there were lights in the distance signaling civilization still existed after all.


********


Sneaking into the blood bank didn’t prove to be that difficult. After much protest, Buffy was finally being treated by a doctor. All the exertion made him ravenous for some good old plasma, especially after the unsatisfying meal the receptionist unwillingly donated. Better a few gulps than nothing at all, he reckoned. Since he was already here, he might as well take advantage. What better place to nick blood than a hospital? No way was he feeding off all those diseased people smelling like depression and disinfectants. And the nurse scowling at him in disapproval sure didn’t whet his appetite for the hunt either.


After drinking down a couple of plasma bags and cleaning the wound on his forehead, Spike managed to sneak past reception, and headed to the Slayer’s room. Just to get his duster back before he high tailed it out of there. That was the plan. Forget her help with the Amazon chicks. She had already made it clear she wanted to go home as soon as she could.


A silly grin stretched across Buffy’s face as she spotted him standing morosely in the doorway.


“It’s Spike,” she whispered with a giggle to the nurse examining her. “He’s a vampire.”


Spike’s eyes darted to the nurse before he scowled at Buffy. “Right funny you are, Sl-... Buffy. How’s the head?”


The nurse turned her attention to him. “You shouldn’t be here, Sir. It’s past visiting hours.”


He sauntered closer and fixed her with a seductive look. “Come on, pet. I’ll be just a while and then I’m off. Just making sure she’s all right.”


The nurse darted a glance between Buffy and him, biting her lip. “Are you family?”


He nodded, knowing he’d already won her over. “She’s my little sis.” Pressing his hand to the side of his mouth, he whispered, “She’s adopted.”


“Okay, you can stay. But only for a little while. I’m going to see more patients but I might come by to check on her later.” She turned to go.


“Wait.” He saw her glance over her shoulder with an expectant expression. “How’s she?”


The nurse smiled. “She had a mild concussion. She’ll be fine in a few hours, don’t worry. I just gave her some medication so she’ll be a bit out of it for the time being.”


Don’t worry? He wasn’t worried at all. “Good. Cheers.”


Spike watched the nurse walk out of the room and he came up to Buffy’s bedside, feeling at loss as he rubbed the back of his neck.


“You lied to the nurse,” she whispered with wide eyes.


“Yeah, guess I did.”


“That’s not very nice of you.”


“You want me to go?”


“No.” Buffy glanced up at him, pouting. “You didn’t bring me any grapes. Giles brought me grapes when I was in the hospital last year.”


“Do I look like a sodding Watcher to you?”


“Sing for me then.”


“What?” Now he was appalled. What was he, her personal entertainer?


“You have a sexy voice. You have to sing for me or I’ll... I’ll throw my pillow at you.”


“Go easy on the scary threats, would you?”


Her eyes filled up with tears.


“Oh for Christ’s sake… turn off the waterworks. I’ll sing, alright?”


The tears seemed to have miraculously disappeared as she grinned at up him. Spike opened his mouth and sang quietly.


“Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated. Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated-”


“Now dance.” She seemed to mull it over and her eyes lit up with wickedness. “Oh… dance and strip!”


“What? I bloody well will not!”


“Fine, you lousy stuck-up vampire.”


Was the queen of repression actually calling him stuck-up? Now that stung.


“What kind of medication did they give you anyway?”


“It’s making me loopy!” she said with a wide smile and latched onto his arm. Unprepared for the sudden move, Spike fell half on top of her.


He was assaulted by her scent and it made him want to do unspeakable things. Things that involved candles and chocolate. He truly was damned.


“Hug me.”


Spike recoiled in horror. “Have you gone off your rocker? What am I asking? Of course you have.”


“Hug me!”


He regarded her, noting the resolved expression on her face. “Alright! Has anyone ever told you how annoying that ordering people around is?”


She sat up and he awkwardly put his arms around her shoulders, his jaw clenching. Her hair tickled his neck as she curled against him, her knees tucked under her chin. His arms tightened around her possessively as she sighed in contentment. If anyone ever told him that he would one day willingly cuddle with the Slayer-- the very bane of his existence-- he’d rip their throats out and laugh at their stupidity. Now he couldn’t deny how marvelous it felt.


Spike leaned his cheek against her hair and breathed her in against his will. He wanted to bottle her scent up and carry it in his pocket. Better yet, carry her around everywhere. All small and feminine yet strong enough to crush his bones into powder. God, he wanted to lay her in the middle of a bed covered in rose petals and worship her.


Why don’t you wear a pink tutu while you’re at it, Big Bad?


Her arms unfurled from around her legs as she tucked them under her and circled his waist, turning a bit to the side to be able to fit against him better. “Spike?”


“Yeah?”


“Have you always smelled this nice?” Her breath warmed the side of his neck as she leaned her head on his shoulder.


“Uh… think so.”


“You’re not wearing your coat.”


“Lent it to you, remember?”


“I’m not giving it back,” she said with a teasing smile.


Stroking her spine, he lifted his scarred eyebrow. “Aren’t you now? And why is that?”


She shrugged against him. “Because then… you’ll have to stay.”


“I thought you were all eager to get rid of me.” He frowned, ceasing the movement of his hand. Why would she even want him around? It wasn’t like she hid her dislike of him. When she wasn’t pumped full of drugs, that is.


“Not really. Now can I have jell-o?”


“Avoiding the subject, are you? Just this once I’ll let you, but don’t think I won’t bring it up when you’re back to your bitchy self.”


“I’m not bitchy,” she said morosely, slid out of his arms and relaxed against the pillows. “Now feed me the cherry goodness.”


“You can’t eat while you’re lying, pet. Sit up.” She did and Spike arranged the pillows against the headboard so she could lean back on them as she sat. He took the tray from her bedside table and arched a brow at the wobbly red substance, all the while wondering what the hell he was doing, playing nice with the Slayer. “This looks disgusting. You sure you want to eat it?”


“Give it here, Mister.” She opened her mouth and stared at him expectantly.


Spike rolled his eyes and put a spoonful of jell-o into her mouth. She closed her lips around the spoon and actually moaned. The fact that the sound turned him on didn’t bode well for his sanity at all. He coughed and glanced away from her ecstatic expression as she swallowed it.


“You’ve got hands… you can feed yourself.” He thrust the spoon into her hand.


Her bottom lip quivered as she gazed at him with those doe like eyes. “I always have to do everything by myself. And my hands are all shaky.”


Spike resisted the urge to groan and gazed upwards at the ceiling. “Why me?”


Now she began to sniff miserably and he snatched the utensil from her fingers before dipping it into the plastic cup to scoop up more of the treat. “No need to bawl. Now open up.”


She bestowed him with another pitiful look and wiped her nose with the back of her hand before eating the spoonful. “Thank you,” she whispered.


He shifted uneasily on the bed and shrugged, hating the warmth spreading through his chest from the way she was gazing at him. “Don’t mention it. And don’t get used to it either… I'm not your sodding slave.”


“Oh. Spike slave… that’s something I wouldn’t mind having,” she muttered and his eyes widened. Did he just hear her say she wanted him to be her slave? She stared back at him, a very picture of innocence as she chewed. Maybe he’d just imagined it.


She voiced her pleasure with another provocative moan as he fed her and he inconspicuously adjusted himself when she wasn’t looking.


“Oh, come on. It can’t honestly be that good, Slayer.”


She smirked.


Bloody hell, she’s gonna be the death of me.


TBC

A/N: Did you like drugged up Buffy? I dare say she's a sight more pleasant, isn't she? ;)
 
Chapter six
 
A/N: Here's more. :D Thank you everyone rwho is reading and reviewing for being so amazing!

Awesome betas: All4Spike and BloodyHell.


Chapter 6


Two hours later, Spike was still at the hospital. The nurse had come back, but one look at the sleeping Buffy in his arms, and she’d let him stay. Now he was drifting asleep, carried away by the steady staccato thudding through the veins of his enemy. The enemy currently snuggled into his side. Her arms were still entwined around his waist though the tenacious grip had long gone lax quite a while ago. He should just get up and leave. He should, except… he was so tired.


He’d rest his eyes for a little while. No harm done.


Already, Spike could feel himself hovering between sleep and wakefulness, the smell of the human beside him drowning him in its strange familiarity. And then she was all around him. Everywhere he looked, the Slayer was there. They were surrounded by night but she pierced the darkness with life radiating off her in waves.


Dressed in a pink fluffy ballerina skirt over a tight black leotard, she stretched her arms out towards the moon and tilted her head back in a private rapture. Eyes closed, she twirled in the pale gleam of moonlight, her bare feet moving effortlessly on the dewy grass.


Spike stared, every muscle poised and taut. Ready as he watched his prey. Or was she? Her eyes opened and met his gaze as she danced around him, circling him. Was he the gazelle, ready to be slaughtered?


Rocking on the balls of his feet, he stalked her. A tiny smile hovered on her lips. As though she had a secret. As though she was taunting him with knowledge he couldn’t quite grasp.


“Spike,” she breathed. “Dance with me?”


He was close enough now and she’d never stopped moving. He couldn’t watch and wait anymore. She was so graceful yet deadly, calling to him. Electricity ran up his fingers as he closed them around her forearm. His every nerve ending throbbed with the ache to touch, to possess. The Slayer only smiled, stroked the side of his face then shoved him away.


She was poised to make a run for it again and he clasped her wrist, rolling her back into his arms. The warmth of her body seeped through the fabric of his T-shirt, her breath hot on the side of his neck as she tilted her head to the side.


“Is that what you want?” he asked. “To dance with me?”


“What else is there to do?”


She sneaked her way out of his arms, fingers trailing a fiery path across his chest and stomach. Then she was behind him, her breasts pressed into his back as she bit his shoulder blade. Hard.


Vulnerable.


That was what she made him feel, so he reeled back, ready to hit her with his elbow. The hit never connected and she grasped his arm, spun him around. Blue clashed with green as their eyes met, adrenaline pumping. Then all bets were off.


They traded punches, each of them blocking with forearms, always ducking. Touching each other through violence. She dropped to the ground and he had to jump to avoid getting his legs swept from under him. Ready now, he grasped her ankle as she prepared to high kick him in the head and he pushed her away. Never falling, Buffy molded the momentum into a cartwheel.


Before he could catch a breath he didn’t need, she ran and leaped into the air, her legs locked around his waist so hard his ribs creaked in protest. Twisting around, she brought them to the ground, the impact of the fall hard. Spike reacted instinctively and grasped her waist then hoisted her above his head. She rolled into a somersault and jumped to her feet. Following her motion, Spike did the same and they circled each other, panting. Savage and greedy to dominate the other. To make contact again.


She came at him, her eyes blazing as she aimed a punch at his face. Expecting it, he caught her hand then the other and twirled her in his arms. For the second time, she ended up with her back to his front. The tension between them was crackling, her spine arching as she rubbed against him. Immediately his harsh grip softened, fingers splayed across her quivering stomach.


One of her arms reached back and fingers twined themselves in the curls at the nape of his neck. Her head rolled to the side, the skin of her neck sweet and salty as he traced it with the tip of his tongue. The taste fogged his mind and she managed to spin away from him, the corner of her lips curled in a secretive smile. She let herself fall back with her hands fisted in his T-shirt as she threw him over her head.


Wind knocked out of him, he could only watch as she appeared above him and sank down to straddle his hips. Her fingers scratched down his chest, marking him as hers. Buffy bent down, the tips of her golden hair tickling his cheeks. How could he do anything but surrender, eyes falling shut as pleasure leashed him as its slave? The way she smelled had him clutching her hips. She was liquid sin seeping into his flesh, a drug he could never get out of his system.


She leaned in, her lips a feathery whisper across his. And he was falling, being thrown into the skies, blinded by the sun that didn’t burn…


There was a crack right before pain exploded on the back of his head, bringing him harshly back into reality.


“Fuck!” he said, still trying to blink the cobwebs of the dream out of his eyes. As the aftermath, the jeans he was wearing had become painfully tight across his groin. Also, he could smell blood, and it was his.


Sure enough, as soon as he touched the back of his head, his fingers encountered slickness. A quick glance around told him, his head had made a brief but impressionable acquaintance with the night stand. Didn’t mean it made him any less hard. Bloody annoying, that.


“I’m sorry.” Then he remembered he was not in fact alone. Buffy was peering down at him sheepishly, semi-apologetic smile on her face. “I didn’t mean to.”


“Do you usually kick blokes out of your bed?” He stood up and picked up the sheet to press it against his wound.


“Just you,” she said with a nod. “I woke up and the sight of you so close freaked me out.”


Well, there was a compliment if he’d ever heard one. And he’d been dreaming about her. What kind of sadist was he?


“Right then. Some gratitude I get. It was your bloody idea too.” He added in a falsetto voice, “Oh, Spike, you big strapping vampire, you have to hug me!”


She blushed to the roots of her hair. “It was the stuff they gave me!”


“Sure it was,” he replied with a grin.


“Oh, shut up,” she said with no heat behind her voice. “Anyway, we have to go.”


“No kidding.”


“I mean it! I have this feeling… we should go.”


He tossed the bloodied sheet on the bed. “Think the birds would crash a sodding hospital of all places?”


She shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”


Spike spotted his duster on a nearby chair and went over to take it. When he turned around, Buffy’s bare feet hit the tiled floor.


“The hospital gown’s a nice look for you,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. Truth was she’d look good in a sand-sack. Except, this was even better, since she was currently offering a rather nice view of her pert arse while she was searching the room for a pair of spare hospital slippers. And ignoring him. Well, that just wouldn’t do.


He leered. “Hey, Slayer?”


She spun around, annoyed. “What!”


“Not feeling cold?”


Her brows drew together in confusion. “What?”


“You know… no breeze making you all goose bumpy?” He pointed at her lower half.


It was hilarious to watch her eyes widen to epic proportions. Her hands immediately flew to her backside to hold the open gown together.


“You’re so… ugh!”


“Don’t be embarrassed on my account, pet. Now move that bitable bum and let’s roll, yeah? Time’s wasting.”


“I’m going, jeez.” She picked up his red shirt which she obviously already deemed to be hers. “Don’t look. And turn around.”


She waited for him to do so and he heard the rustling of fabric as she took the hospital gown off. Being an evil vampire, he glanced over his shoulder. His mouth ran dry at the sight of her slipping into his shirt. All he saw was her bare back and the soft curve of the side of her breast, but it was enough to make his arousal return with a vengeance. Forcing himself to look away so she wouldn’t catch him peeking proved to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.


“I’m decent. We can go now.”


Shuffling in slippers a few sizes too big for her delicate feet, she approached him and snatched the duster from his hands with her chin held high. As he watched her slide into the leather, he couldn’t find it in himself to argue, and followed her out of the hospital room.


*******


She had not flashed Spike. Again. Just as she had not enjoyed waking up in his arms. If only he hadn’t smelled like something very edible. Not that she wanted to eat Spike… Oh God, she was going straight to hell where she’d be forced to watch bad teenage movies for eternity.


They melted into the shadows and sneaked down the corridor. It was dead in the night, so not many of the personnel were around, which was exactly what they needed to get out undetected. Just as she was about to pass a hospital room, Spike’s arms shot to her waist as he drew her back and against him into the shadows.


Her heart was thundering in her chest as she watched a nurse come out of the room. That was the only reason for her accelerated heart beat. Yes, Sir. His arms disappeared and she forced herself into moving again.


Soon they were out on the fresh air. Good thing too because those hospital fumes were influencing her in the strangest way.


“I reckon we should steal another car,” Spike said.


“Okay.”


He stopped dead in his tracks “Did you just agree with me on committing a crime?”


She shrugged. “It’s not like we have money for a taxi, right? And I’m too tired to argue right now.”


He shook his head and caught up to her. After a moment he asked, “How’s your head. You feeling better? Sure you shouldn’t have stayed at the hospital for a bit longer?”


She glanced over at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. “Um… I think so. Still not feeling 100% Buffy but I’m getting there. Slayer healing and all that. I just need a bit more sleep, I think.”


“Good.” He stopped near a car and smirked. “So, Bonny, fancy a ride?”


“Huh?”


He rolled his eyes. “You know… the famous criminals? Bonny and bloody Clyde?”


She stared at him blankly and he sighed in disgust before picking a lock and opening the door for her. “Just get in, would you?”


“I knew that,” she said with a pout and got into the car. “So, any idea where we are?”


“As a matter of fact, yeah. I did some asking about at the hospital and we’re just north of LA. Some small town near Pasadena,” came his muffled voice from beneath the wheel as he tried to hotwire the car.


“I’m hungry.”


The engine kicked in and Spike let out a triumphant whoop that almost made her smile. Just almost though.


He sat back and stretched, his hand resting on his crotch as he waggled his tongue at her in a rather crude fashion.


“Eat me then.”


“Eww!” Definitely regretting the almost smiling now.


“Oh come on, Slayer. Don’t be such a prude.” He stepped on the pedal and peeled out of the parking lot.


“I’m not a prude. I could be very… adventurous, you know.”


“Could you now? Care to demonstrate?”


How funny would his expression be if she actually said yes? She snorted then burst into full blown laughter. Spike was looking at her like she’d lost her mind which only made it worse. She was laughing so hard now she might just pee herself.


“Oh God…. Your face!”


“What’s wrong with my face?” he said and frowned deeper which only spurred her on.


“Stop it… I can’t… anymore.”


He shook his head and chuckled. “I think the hunger might be making you delirious.”


Eventually her laughter tapered off into occasional giggles.


“Care to tell me what was so funny?”


“I imagined what you’d look like if I actually said yes. Crazy, right?”


She missed the way he shifted in his seat and the way his answering snort was just a little too forced.


“Bloody insane.”


“Spike?”


“Yeah?”


“I want to… thank you,” she mumbled.


He glanced over at her, eyes widened in shock. “Uh… what for?”


“Come on, are you really going to make me say it?”


“Guess so.”


“Thank you for saving my life.”


Spike rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah. That. You’re welcome.” He seemed to pull himself together and shed whatever weird bashfulness that had overcome him for a moment. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You owe me.”


“I don’t think so. I’d say we’re even since this whole thing is actually your fault. A little tryst with an Amazon chick rings any bells?”


He looked as though he wanted to argue her point but then his shoulders slumped.


“Not even a little taste of your blood?”


“No!”


“Couldn’t blame a bloke for trying. Your blood is the sweetest thing there is, you know. Fucking ambrosia.”


That was equally gross and kind of cute. Just like Spike himself. And she still must be suffering the after effects of concussion.


“In your dreams, pal,” she said, starting to feel a bit drowsy.


“Yeah.”


Comfortable silence settled over them as Spike turned on the radio. Classical music played in the background as she leaned her forehead against the cool window and watched the scenery pass them by. Her eyelids were too heavy so she closed them, letting the hum of engine lull her to sleep. The last coherent thought that flitted through her brain before she succumbed was how easy it was to do so in the presence of her so-called mortal enemy.


TBC

 
Chapter seven
 
A/N: Thank you so much everyone who has left me a review!!! Love you!

Wonderful betas: All4Spike and BlodyHell


Chapter 7


Sleep was of the good. Of the best, really. So why was her mom obnoxiously shaking her shoulder?


“Just five more minutes, Mom,” she muttered and tried to plunge right back into sleep. Or she would have if it weren’t for someone still shaking her hard enough to make her teeth rattle.


Her eyes popped open, heart hammering.


“What!” she said, glancing wildly around. Why was she in a car?


“Wakey wakey, Slayer.”


Oh, right. She and Spike were temporary traveling companions. And he looked way too entertained by her momentary disorientation.


“Geez, could you wake me up any gentler?”


He bit his lip. “I thought you liked it rough.”


Groaning, she climbed out of the car and closed the door. “Really. Predictable much? And can I just say ‘icky’?”


“If you say so,” he said, amused and proceeded to swagger towards the lobby of a small motel like he owned it. She wrinkled her nose and followed him. Ritz, it was not.


She watched him dig a few crumpled bills out of the front pocket of his jeans and toss them on the counter in exchange for keys.


The walk towards their room was short and fortunately innuendo free.


“Home, sweet home,” Spike said sarcastically as he stepped over the vampire friendly threshold, slid out of his duster that he’d wrestled back from her and folded it over a nearby chair. He had nice shoulders, for a bloodsucking fiend.


“How far away are we from Sunnydale?” she asked.


“Not by much. We’d be there in a few hours if it weren’t for my sun affliction.”


“So it’s your fault,” she pointed out. “Go figure.”


“Aren’t you tired? You should catch a few winks. Stop giving me a headache.”


“Nope, no can do, Spikey.” She collapsed on the motel bed with a blissful sigh, listening to him moving around the room and fiddle with the curtains to avoid flamey death when the sun came up in half an hour or so. “I’m hungry.”


“Well, so am I. You offering?”


She replied by picking up a pillow and throwing it at his head with deadly accuracy.


“You know, you keep throwing pillows at me instead of kicking me in the head… I might get funny ideas.”


“Kicking your ass would require me actually bothering to stand up and walk over to you.” She toed off the slippers and drew a blanket to cover herself before rolling onto her stomach.


Spike sat down on the twin bed next to hers. It was that exact moment her stomach chose to growl. Loudly. Embarrassed, Buffy burrowed her face in the remaining pillow. Anytime now Spike would make a scathing remark or make fun of her.


But it never came.


She lifted her head just in time to see him reach to the night stand to pick up the phone.


“What are yo-”


He lifted his hand palm up. “Shh.”


Then he asked the person on the phone—probably the receptionist—for a phone number on the nearest take away pizza place. Her jaw dropped.


Five minutes later, Spike put the phone back on its cradle and turned on the TV.


“Do you think they’ve got pay per view porn here?”


“You are not watching porn with me in the same room,” she said dryly and propped her chin up on her crossed arms. “You ordered a pizza. For me.”


He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and shifted on the bed. “Who said it’s just for you? I happen to like junk food.”


The amount of thanks she was due to say to him was starting to get pretty ridiculous. So she smiled and said instead, “Then you’re going to have to race me for it. You have no idea what you just got yourself into. When it comes to pizza, nothing stands in my way.”


He arched a brow. “You don’t say. Is that a challenge?”


“You’re so on.”


*******


Buffy lay on her back and rubbed her stomach. “Ugh, I feel sick.”


“Bloody hell, Slayer, you practically inhaled the thing.” He stared down at her in awed astonishment from his sitting position with his back leaning against the bed. “You weren’t kidding.”


She stared longingly at Spike as he reached out to pick up the last slice, happily munching on it. Which was actually the second slice he managed to steal from the whole box before she got her hands on it. If only she weren’t bursting at the seams already, she might even fight him for it. The melting cheese stretched from the slice to Spike’s mouth until it finally snapped and landed on his chin. He pulled it into his mouth with relish and licked his lips.


“You eat like a pig,” she said.


He sucked the sauce off his fingers, the cheekbones even more prominent at the motion. “Correction… I eat like a man.”


She shrugged. “Same diff.”


He swallowed and inclined his head in appreciation. “Touché.”


Suddenly something occurred to her. “Aren’t you uncomfortable wearing those boots?”


He glanced down at his stretched out legs. “Uh, guess so.” Then he pulled the boots off. By the time his gaze landed on the yellow heart socks, Buffy was giggling like a crazy person and pointing at his feet that were currently only inches away from hers.


He chuckled and shrugged. “What, Slayer? My diverse fashion sense too much for you?”


She snorted, which only made her laugh more. She didn’t remember the last time she laughed as much as she did in the last couple of days with Spike. She hadn’t even thought of Angel… until now. She sobered a bit.


“What’s with the sudden frown?” He cocked his head to the side, regarding her. “Lactose intolerant?”


“What? Ew… no,” she said, wrinkling up her nose. Better steer the subject into less Angel polluted waters. “So, what happened with the socks? It’s quite an interesting choice.”


“Don’t rightly remember, to be honest. Must have been somewhere between the first and… the indeterminate number of bottles that followed.”


“I’ve never been drunk,” she admitted.


His eyebrows almost shot up to his hairline. “Never? You’re yanking my chain, aren’t you? Surely even such a goody two shoes like you must have had a taste of the wild side.”


“There’s not even a chain to be yanked… stupid saying doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered and sat up, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. “It’s not like Mom would just hand me the liquor, you know. And I’d get grounded for at least a year if I came home wasted.”


He shook his head ruefully. “Oh, Slayer. One day, I’ll drink you under the table.”


“Getting drunk with a vampire… sounds like a safe plan,” she said in a voice heavy with sarcasm.


It would be a terrible, dangerous plan because she might actually find him attractive.


Like you don’t already.


Shut up, brain.



“If I wanted to off you, I would have done so already, alright?” And he actually looked a bit hurt. That shouldn’t make her feel bad, but it did, which naturally made her lash out.


“Well, excuse me for being paranoid. But you were trying to kill me the whole past year! You sent the Order of Taraka assassins after me!”


“Well, yeah, but… actually I don’t have an excuse. At least I haven’t tried to kill you recently, have I? Had you all drowsy and delicious smelling right under my fangs and never even took a nibble.”


He thinks I smell delicious?


She had nothing to say to that.


“Oh….shit,” she said, remembering something. “I should call Giles! I bet he’s out of his mind with worry.”


“Or he’s throwing a party, happy you lot gave him bit of a free time for a change.”


She sent him a threatening glare that she’d perfected over the years of slaying. But this was Spike, not some pimple faced fledgling, so his eyes sparkling with amusement really shouldn’t have surprised her. And the fact he was cute when he did that? She had to stop noticing such things.


Realising she’d been staring at him, Buffy shot to her feet, sat down on his bed and picked up the phone. Giles answered after a several rings, his voice groggy with sleep.


“Hello?”


“Giles! Hi. It’s me, Buffy.”


She heard his sheets ruffle. “Buffy? What on earth are you calling me for at… half past four in the morning? Is there an apocalypse?”


“Umm… no? Just thought I’d call you because I didn’t want you to worry about me, which obviously… you haven’t. Sorry.”


“I always worry about you, Buffy. I just thought you took some time off after… so you would…”


“You can say his name, you know.”


“Ah, yes,” Giles said. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”


I’m with Spike and I almost died twice, but he saved my life. Instead she said, “We might have a problem. These Amazon chicks are after u-… me. After me.”


There was a grunt on the other side of the line then squeak of the bed springs as Giles probably sat up. “Amazon, you say. Fascinating.”


“Not so much.”


“And they’re after you? They a-are very vengeful from what I’ve read. Persistent. Once they’ve set their eyes on you, it’s hard to get rid of them.”


Buffy’s shoulders sagged. “Great. I'll take care of it, I guess.”


“Are you going to be okay? Do you need my help?”


“No, I’ve got it. I might have to tail them, so tell my mom I’m peachy keen in case she comes home sooner than me,” Buffy said. “I’ll update you as soon as I can.”


“I’ll tell her. Call me if you need help. I mean it.”


“I will. Thanks Giles.”


“You’re welcome,” he said. “Good night, Buffy.”


“Good night.”


Spike poked her in the calf to get her attention. “What was that all about?”


“He hadn’t even noticed I was missing,” she mumbled.


“Hey, now.” He awkwardly patted her knee. “Thought you wanted some time off, didn’t he?”


Compassionate Spike was so not something she could deal with right now.


“I’ve got a plan,” she said.


“Lay it on me then.”


“Okay, plan A is you driving me home and me hoping they’ll only come after you.”


“Never pegged you for a coward, Slayer.”


She pursed her lips in irritation and continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “And plan B is we divert them to a secluded location and fight. Giles said they’re persistent and I assume once you pulled me into this whole crappy situation, I’ll have to count on them coming after me as well.”


Spike tucked the tip of his tongue against the front teeth, thinking. “So you figure we have a better chance joining forces rather than taking them on our lonesome.”


He was expecting a reply? Now? Damn that evil tongue. With great effort, Buffy tore her eyes away from his wicked mouth. “Y-yes.”


Spike suddenly sprang to his feet and clapped his hands. “Right then. I’m itching for some action.”


The overwhelming grin spread across his face was both annoying and a little contagious. She bit it back as well as she could.


“Don’t get overly excited. It’s not like we can go out right now.”


“Oh, cheer up. Don’t tell me you don’t crave some rough and tumble.” He waggled his eyebrows.


“Of the fighty kind! No other… stuff.”


“Someone’s got a dirty mind,” he sing-songed and traced his long artistic fingers down his chest. Helpless, her eyes followed the motion without her consent.


“Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t being all Mister Innuendo guy.”


“Not like you’ll ever know,” he said, turning on his heel to disappear inside a small bathroom. “Gonna take a shower now. Try not to miss me too much.”


“Jerk,” she muttered.


His only reply was a deep laugh that tugged at her very core. The sooner she was away from the strange temptation Spike seemed to represent, the better.


TBC


A/N: I wouldn't mind knowing if you liked or not. Just saying. ;)
 
Chapter eight
 
A/N: What the hell happened in the last chapter, you ask. Well, Spike went to take a shower! What more do you need to remember?! *g*

Beta'd by lovely All4Spike and BloodyHell.


Chapter 8


She was bored. If anyone thought lounging around in a cheap hotel room sounded like fun, they were deeply mistaken. And while Spike was still in the shower, singing as loud and as obnoxiously as possible, she had to find amusement elsewhere. Fifteen minutes of being alone and she was ready to climb the walls.


“Oh, a cheesy picture,” she commented and poked at the picture frame to right the lopsided side.


Never really knowing her strength, Buffy pushed it too hard and the frame crashed to the floor with a glass shattering impact. She stared at it with her eyes wide, index finger still up in the air.


“Oops.”


As if agreeing with her, a bit of plaster fluttered to the floor as well.


“Can’t I leave you for a few minutes without you resorting to vandalism?” Spike’s voice carried to her ears. How come she’d never noticed the shower turning off? Sneaky vampire.


She turned on her heel, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to.”


“With that piece of crap, you did the world a favour.”


She was about to say something when the image of Spike finally registered in her brain.


Mmmm…


His lips were moving and there was sound coming out but the only thing she could focus on were the tiny droplets of water clinging to his skin, shivering before finally succumbing to gravity and gliding down the velvet of Spike’s bare skin.


To better appreciate the sight, Buffy tilted her head to the side and her gaze slid from the graceful arch of his neck to feast on his muscular chest. It was rising and falling as he took in breaths he didn’t need. Greedy for more, her gaze traveled to the slightly concave flesh of his equally muscular abdomen which tensed slightly under her inspection.


Somewhere in the back of her mind, the alarms were going off, but she couldn’t get her brain to work enough to do something about it. Couldn’t tear her eyes off. At that moment, it seemed imperative to appreciate the half naked male masterpiece in front of her. Surely even her mother would commend her on taking interest in art. And Spike’s big beautiful hands attached to the wiry strong arms were art enough in her opinion.


Oh, happy trail.


She felt very happy just looking at it indeed. And the way his tight black jeans were unbuttoned at the top and rode really low on his narrow hips? She needed a glass of water to chase away the sudden dryness in her mouth. She really, really, shouldn’t be looking at him like this. It had to be wrong. If only her traitorous eyes, which had traveled back up to his face, listened to her brain.


Somehow she’d inched her way closer to him.


If she lifted her hand, she could touch him. Caress the smoothness of his pale skin. The silence was disrupted only by the swishing sound of the air conditioner swinging around above their heads. It must have been uncomfortable for him to stay so wet in the cool room. Maybe she should help him out. Lick those droplets of water off his skin.


You’d know about being wet, wouldn’t you? her subconscious whispered mockingly.


Yuh huh, was her only coherent response.


He stared into her eyes, dark and intense, hypnotising her with a promise of the sweetest sin. The most forbidden ecstasy. His nostrils flared right before one of his hands tangled in the mussed hair at the nape of her neck to pull her close. The contact made the breath escape her throat in a sharp exhale, made her chest burn.


Dazed, her fingers trailed up his stomach to finally rest on his chest. What a nice chest it was. Firm, moist, the scent of his freshly showered skin invading her nose in the headiest way. She could almost taste the burn between them, just enough electricity crackling everywhere they touched each other to run a small power plant.


His fingers tightened in her hair to tug her closer before his lips crashed into hers. The breath got caught in her throat before she exhaled a drawn out moan into his demanding lips. God but he was talented. Using just enough pressure to make the blood in her veins boil and teasing her swollen lips with the tip of his tongue but never quite giving her what she needed. Teasing her.


Not one to be outdone, Buffy suckled on his lower lip until his body tensed against hers and she bit him slightly, knowing it would make him hot. Somehow, making Spike plead for her touch seemed imperative at the moment. And plead he did. Breathless little whimpers, the length of his body pressed against hers in a desperate need to be closer. To melt into her.


Her fingernails raked down his naked back, leaving red welts in their wake. She wanted to mark him. To possess him. To make him hers. She’d never desired anyone as much as she did Spike right at this moment. She craved everything. His body on hers, skin sliding against skin, those rumbling sounds within his chest as he deepened the kiss.


His hands dropped to her hips, gripping tightly as she touched the tip of her tongue to his, massaging it and chasing it back into his mouth with a thirst she’d never before experienced. Every slant of his lips was igniting fire within her core.


She was going to burn up.


Slayer!” Spike called, successfully tearing her out of the daydream.


Her eyes went impossibly wide upon the realization she had been daydreaming. And that it was, in fact, a fantasy. “W-what?”


Such a good question too. What the hell had she been doing?


“Bloody hell, I’ve been yelling at you for at least a minute straight.”


Oh God, I was thinking of making out with Spike. With Spike! What is wrong with me?


“I…” Work brain, work! “Umm… what w-were you saying?”


“Just that we should rest up while the sun’s up. And possibly get you some clothes that aren’t bloodied up. The scent is driving me insane.”


Every step he took to get closer had her barely repressed urge to run skyrocket to unbearable levels. He was peering at her face now as though he could see whatever was wrong with her tattooed on her forehead.


“G-good. Yes. Clothes are of the… best.”


Must look away from his…. Oh no, no, no. I cannot be lusting after the pest! It must be the leftover drug influence. It must be!


Meanwhile Spike watched the Slayer turn as red as the blood he’d poured on his pancakes two weeks ago. Her elevated heartbeat jack hammered so loudly it in his ears he almost couldn’t hear his own thoughts. She wasn’t getting sick, was she? He wasn’t hauling her arse back to hospital again.


He was not!


“Are you feeling alright, Slayer? You’re turning an interesting shade of purple.”


She jumped up and put on the fakest smile he’d ever seen.


“Peachy! With the… you know… keenness and all.”


“I thought the concussion was all cleared up. Should we go back to the hospital to have them check you out?”


There went his resolution again.


Buffy paced around the room with the scratchy motel blanket trailing behind her. And she was avoiding eye contact. Women were the most puzzling creatures. And he counted all the demon species as well.


“No! No hospital. It’s just… I think maybe the drugs haven’t fizzled out completely yet. Feel kinda wonky.”


He frowned. “You seemed alright before I went to shower.”


“Oh my God.” She sat down on the bed and put her face in her hands, mumbling something unintelligible.


Feeling awkward, Spike fidgeted in the same spot while he contemplated the bug that had flown up the Slayer’s skirts. Now that he focused, he couldn’t smell any sickness on her. Not like he could when she had concussion. It had to be something else then.


He sniffed the air, stopped in his tracks, and repeated the process again.


Well, well…


Did the Slayer get her knickers all in a twist by staring at him? Now that he thought about it, all the signs pointed towards yes. The glazed over eyes glued to his half naked form before he snapped his fingers in front of her face, the parted lips, the frantic heartbeat. He couldn’t really blame her. After all, he knew how hot he looked without his tee on.


The grin that appeared on his face was positively evil.


“Slayer,” he murmured huskily.


“What?” she squeaked out without looking at him.


“You know… I don’t think this air condition is top notch. I’m all… hot. Aren’t you?” He smirked.


“Bathroom!” She leaped to her feet. “Need to go.”


Yeah, most likely to take a cold shower.


Sure enough, few seconds later he could hear the water running. Immensely proud of finding a new way to torture the Slayer, Spike sprawled back on his bed with a satisfied grin.


*******


Buffy climbed out of the shower stall, her morose mood clinging to her even after the water washed away the wrong lusty feelings. To sometimes engage in a very innocent dream she could pretend was just her subconscious being wacky was one thing. But this? This was wrong. On the scale from one to ten, this climbed so far up the ladder it passed the dreaded ten with a wave and a crude middle finger straight to the ten’s imaginary face.


With a groan, Buffy wrapped a towel around her and tucked the end behind the top hem. Her clothes -- or should she say Spike’s shirt -- looked pretty much disgusting at this point. There was blood splattered on it from where she hit the windshield. And her underwear? In a dire need of a wash.


Buffy felt icky.


Really icky.


She stepped closer to the mirror and wiped the steam off the surface with a weary hand. Equally weary face stared back at her as she ran her fingers thorough her hair in a fruitless effort to untangle the strands. Then she turned the water on to fill the sink and dumped both the shirt and the panties in. Nothing better than to do than wash her clothes the old fashioned way.


Yay.


She rubbed the bar of unscented soap all over the soaked fabric and proceeded to wring them in the water that slowly caught a pinkish hue. After she managed to get some of the grime off, she pulled out the plug and watched it drain away before filling the sink again and repeating the process. Not that she was all that meticulous or knew what the hell she was doing, but it beat getting back into the bedroom and facing the object of her very misguided fantasy.


Maybe she could spend the night here in the bathroom. Who needed a comforter anyway? She could just camp out in the tub. That sounded reasonable enough. Right?


Knock. Knock.


Buffy stilled her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she was really quiet, he’d think she gave him a slip. Except there weren’t any windows. Oh, crap.



“Slayer!”


She took in a calming breath and yelled back, “What do you want?”


“You didn’t slip and crack your head in there, did you?”


“No! Would you just leave me alone?”


There was silence on the other side for a few seconds before Spike replied, “Alright then. No need to get touchy all of a sudden. Just got worried is all.”


She heard him stomp away from the door. She got her mind back on the menial task, desperately trying to force her thoughts away from him. Why did he always have to complicate her life? And why was she letting him? What was it about him that always stilled her hand every time she was about to deal the final blow? He was evil. Evil vampire equaled getting impaled by Mr. Pointy.


And why hadn’t he killed her yet?


What scared her even more than the unexplainable -- and completely evil -- pull between them was how easily she could trust him. So effortlessly she often even didn’t realize she was doing it. Like falling asleep next to him in the car or in the same room. And she was still fervently repressing the brief flashes of memories from her time at hospital. There was something… did she really ask -- no, demand -- him to hold her? And why did he comply? Why not take his damn coat and swagger off after his precious Drusilla?


A headache started to pound in her temples.


Buffy’s tumultuous thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door crashing open.


Ah, not now!


Immediately, she pushed all her doubts away, unlocked the door and jumped into the bedroom to face the threat. She just hoped the Amazons hadn’t fully infiltrated their room yet.


TBC


A/N: Do you hate me for teasing you with fake kissage? ;)
 
Chapter nine
 
A/N: All4Spike and BloodyHell= awesome betas!

People who have left a review= made of win! Also, one day I might massage your feet in graditude. Unless your feet are stinky, then we have to think of another way to express my thanks.


Chapter 9


Spike was cursing loudly as he struggled with a very slimy demon that actually looked quite human. Also, it dressed like one and strongly resembled a slimy Cary Grant. That made Buffy stop, puzzled. That was so not what she’d been expecting and the fact she even knew who Cary Grant was? Really worrying. She really had to stop watching movies with Mom.


The two rolled around on the floor, Spike in game face as he tried to get a hold of the slippery man-demon.


“Little help here, Slayer?” Spike wheezed out from where the demon squeezed its fingers around Spike’s neck.


Dressed only in a skimpy towel, Buffy dashed to the chair and picked it up just to smash it against the floor. The wood splintered and she bent down to retrieve a makeshift stake, courtesy of the chair’s leg. Someone from the next room pounded on the wall, demanding for them to ‘shut the fuck up’.


Spike punched the demon in the face repeatedly and pushed him off. He then jumped to his feet fluidly and wriggled his fingers at the demon in invitation.


“Come on then, you slimy wanker.” Spike grinned around his fangs. “Give it to me.”


Buffy was prepared to strike but it seemed Spike was having way too much fun as he pounced on the weaker demon and smashed its head against his knee. Spike then fisted the demon’s shirt and slugged it hard in the face. The fake Cary Grant was trying to fend off Spike’s hits, but it stood no chance as Spike shoved it onto her bed, straddled it and tore into its neck with his fangs.


Crimson blood sprayed the sheets and Spike’s face as he fed noisily, making Buffy pretty nauseous.


Eww.


Spike climbed off the demon and turned to her. “Well, that was disgusting. Tastes a bit like fish. Better than nothing though.” He yanked a sheet from under the demon to wipe his face and chest clean, which made the slimy Cary Grant roll over the mattress and fall to the floor. “Toss me the stake, would you? Better make sure the bugger’s dead.”


She did so and watched as he snatched it from the air before dropping to his knees to ram it home. The demon melted. Thank God for small favours. If a favour could be considered having bloody walls, demon slime on the carpet -- which would be a bitch to get out – ruined bed sheets, possibly the mattress too and a smashed chair. Somehow, Buffy thought Spike wouldn’t be getting his deposit back.


“What the hell was that?” she asked.


Spike rose to his feet and then licked the stray droplets of blood from his bottom lip. “A demon. Looked kinda familiar actually.”


“Well, duh. I knew it was a demon. And is it just me or did it look like Cary Grant?”


Spike’s frown melted away into sudden enlightenment and he uttered a non-committal sound of agreement. It was kind of freaky to see the expression while he still wore his game face.


“What I meant was… what was it doing here, in our room?”


Spike shrugged and shook off his demon, his eyes turning blue once again. “Must have been the scent of your blood from the injury or from the shirt you were wearing. It’s a half-breed, and it likes tasty flesh. Or maybe he fancied giving out autographs.” He pointed his forefinger at her. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”


“Oh yeah? Well… I’m not buying you a new one.”


Spike cocked his head to the side and ran his eyes from head to toe in a way that instinctively made her cross her arms over her chest.


“You know, love, you keep losing clothes. Is it because of my charm? All you had to do was tell me ‘Ah, Spike, you handsome beast, shag me senseless.’ You don’t look half bad. I might just go for it.”


Her jaw dropped and she sputtered. It was only one fantasy! And they just kissed. Okay, more like had sex with their mouths, but still! He didn’t know that. And could he be any more insulting? What did he mean, ‘half bad’? He wished he could ‘shag’ a girl like her, the arrogant bastard!


“Cat got your tongue?” He bit his lip and leveled her with a hooded gaze that made her tremble against her iron will. “Or do you wish I would?”


“Maybe it’s you who wishes it.” Oh yes, she’d turn the tables on him. Let him see how he liked being in the spotlight. “And my tongue will in no way, shape or form go anywhere near you.” Probably.


“Pity that. Could have had a spot of fun. Bet you could be all kinds of nimble.”


“I can’t believe you’re even talking about my… nimbleness.” Buffy tucked the towel closer around herself and raised her chin defiantly. “Here I thought you were pining after Drusilla. Aren’t you her little lap dog?”


“Watch it,” he said with narrowed eyes. “I’m nobody’s lap dog. And I wasn’t professing undying love to you, just talking a one night stand.”


Like she was a one night stand type of girl? The nerve of him! “I’m not a floozy.”


“No, that you’re not,” he said like he wished the opposite. “You’re way too uptight. And obviously have a bloody tragic taste in men.”


“If that was true, then I would hook up with you,” she retorted with a fake saccharine smile.


“No, that would mean your taste has vastly improved.” He stepped closer and gazed at her from beneath the fringe of his dark lashes, making her breath quicken. “Unlike Angel, I might actually give you a second go.”


Whatever attraction or misguided sympathy she felt towards him had just fizzled out with that insensitive comment. It did! At least it was supposed to…


“You know, Spike, sometimes I really hate you.”


He straightened up, his nostrils flaring as he glared at her. “The feeling’s more than mutual.”


She threw her arms in the air and stomped over to sit on the non-slimy bed. “Fine.”


“Fine!” he said and kicked at the floor sullenly.


They both pouted and avoided each other’s eyes.


*******


The Slayer was only wearing a towel. A tiny one that barely covered her ass and rode really high on her thighs as she sat on his bed. And he didn’t see what she got all upset about. Well, maybe that Angel comment went a bit too far. Should he apologize? No, that would be just stupid.


“Slayer?”


“What,” she said tersely and shot him a look that would scare any lesser man half to death.


“Uh… listen, that thing I said… about the Big Pooft-”


“If you want to keep all your parts, you’ll stop talking. Now.”


He ignored her and trudged over to sit on the bed next to her with a heavy sigh.


“I didn’t mean it.”


Silence.


He should probably wait for her reply. Well, either that or a solid punch to the nose. She was probably leaning towards the latter.


When she still refused to say anything, he got impatient and resisted the urge to shake her. “Slayer.”


“Leave it.”


He dropped his head forward, shoulders slumping. “But-”


“No. No buts. This is a but free zone where you just shut your mouth and leave me the hell alone.”


So she really was angry. Somehow, that didn’t sit well with him and the feeling of something eerily reminiscent of remorse expanded inside his chest.


“I’m sorry,” he said, edge of desperation riding on the last syllable. “Look, I’m sure Angel would have-”


She jumped to her feet and rushed into the bathroom without sparing him a second glance. The door slammed closed. Not before he caught a glimpse of her pointy little chin quivering. Now he felt like the residual grime soaking into the cheap motel carpet. And the worse thing was he couldn’t even fix it. No matter what he’d attempt to do, it would no doubt result in a catastrophe and he’d possibly end up saying something like ‘I’m sure Angel would have shagged your luscious peach of an arse if it weren’t for his soul buggering off.’ Probably a good thing she fled before he could finish the sentence.


Me and my bloody mouth.


Spike heaved himself to his feet and rummaged in the pockets of his duster for cigarettes. Two of them left. He pulled one out and tucked the crumpled package back into his pocket before opening the window to at least not pollute the room. That had to count for something, right?


The sun was still up though the deadly rays beat on the front door rather than the currently open window opposite it. He’d be fine if he didn’t jump through it. Not that the Slayer would mind if he did. She’d probably whoop with joy then piss on his ashes.


With a click, Spike opened his Zippo and lit the cigarette. The first drag flooded his lungs and he held it in for a second before exhaling it in a stream of smoke. The drugged up Buffy was so much easier to deal with than this version. She’d wanted him to stay, for whatever reason. But maybe it really was just the effect of medicine talking.


Did he want her to want him to stay? Just the thought alone made his head throb with an impending migraine. He closed his lips around the filter and inhaled with his eyes closed then slowly let it out. What about Drusilla? They’d been together his whole existence. How could he manage without her?


His whole universe revolved around Dru.


Then why was it so hard to recall the colour of her eyes ever since he had been around Buffy?


Why did he want the Slayer so badly? Was it just lust or was it something more that would render him to ashes after it ran its course?


Spike watched the smoke curl into the air before it dissolved completely. He took one last drag and flicked the stub through the open window.


*******


Buffy wrung out the soaked shirt and panties with quick jerky twists, water dripping everywhere. Not that she would have cared even if she had noticed. She didn’t even know why she was being emotional all of a sudden. Spike running off his mouth wasn’t anything new nor did it warrant any hurt feelings on her part. And while that comment about Angel had truly stung, there was no reason for her to get so upset.


She slapped the damp clothes on the bathroom counter and gripped the edge with both hands, leaning into it. Angel loved her. If it wasn’t for his curse… they would what? Live happily ever after? Have a house with picket fence? Listen to him read Proust and pretend to be interested? Had she ever been that naïve? To actually believe her and Angel were forever?


With all that had happened between them, the way she’d been intrigued by the older mysterious guy all of sudden popping up and knowing things. The fact that maybe she’d met someone with whom she could be herself and not hide her sacred duty… it had been liberating. Liberating, intense and full of first time discoveries. But she’d never stopped to think whether she really knew Angel. Who was he, in the deepest darkest corners of his psyche?


Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the counter, the wood straining under her strength. She’d been so convinced Angel was the love of her life and that some day they would beat the odds separating them and be together. Was it really what she wanted? Or was it something she felt she had to crave because if it weren’t… then all the people that had gotten hurt, all the people Angelus had murdered… it was all on her shoulders. And for what? Because she got swept off in the current of first love? How could she ever forgive herself?


Buffy lifted her eyes to look at the reflection staring back at her from the mirror. Was she the same girl that drew little hearts all over her notebooks and marked every page with Buffy&Angel4ever signs? All of a sudden the incredible childishness of the gesture hit her hard like a slap to the face.


She loved Angel.


But maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t in love with him anymore.


Unable to help herself, she started chortling. Once she did, she couldn’t stop and kept laughing though there was no humour in the epiphany. Holding onto the counter, she bent over at the waist and laughed so hard her stomach hurt. So hard she had trouble staying upright.


It felt so good to finally release all the pent up emotions. Good and horrible at the same time for she feared once she stopped… once she stopped laughing, there would be nothing else to do but cry. For her lost innocence, the weight of her actions that cost Giles someone he loved.


All of it.


And apparently, she’d forgotten to lock the door because Spike was standing in the doorway with a worried expression on his face.


“You haven’t gone off your rocker, have you? Just thought I’d ask if I should make a run for it before you went all Texas chainsaw massacre on me.”


She snorted through her laughter and straightened up. “I don’t have a chainsaw.”


He let out a relieved sigh. “Good.” He bit his smiling lip as he pointedly looked over her towel clad body. “Not sure where you’d hide it anyway.”


“I was washing the clothes,” she said in defense of her current skimpiness and glanced towards the damp heap next to the sink.


He stepped inside the bathroom and tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans then tilted his head. “Are you alright?”


The sincerity in his voice had more impact than a punch to the stomach would and she ran a hand through her tangled hair. She contemplated lying, but one look at his concerned expectant eyes had her resolve crumbling.


She shook her head, already feeling the salt of oncoming tears in the back of her throat as she took a shuddering breath.


Before she knew it, she was crossing the small distance and burrowing in Spike’s arms. His arms tentatively encircled her, patting her back as though he had no idea what he was doing. But it was enough.


It was just what she needed.


TBC


 
Chapter ten
 
A/N: Beta'd by lovely All4Spike and BloodyHell.

Previously: Buffy had an epiphany about the whole Bangel ordeal and ended up hugging Spike. And yes, he is an excellent cuddle buddy.


Chapter 10


Spike entered an alternative universe where everything had been turned upside down. A world where a half naked Slayer stood pressed up against him. Needing him. Well, actually, it was his comfort she needed but that didn’t change the fact she was only one skimpy towel away from being shagged.


Yeah, like that wouldn’t get her to kick my balls so far up my body I’d spit them out.


On that lovely thought, Spike very platonically patted her back and tried to think of anything beside the sizzling hot body of the Slayer. But then she started crying against his bare chest and all thoughts of copping a feel and risking her wrath fled his mind. What had she done to him? Making his heart constrict with sympathy and his blood boil with the sudden urge to hunt down the reason for her tears as she trembled in his arms?


He wanted to scream and throw a tantrum that would leave the room in an ever bigger mess. Instead he buried his fingers in her hair to hold her close, the other hand resting tentatively on her lower back. She tightened her grip around his waist in response, and the way the warm skin of her palms slid down his back had him tensing.


Just a single touch from her had him feeling so exposed and raw he almost shoved her away. He couldn’t.


Because she was hurting.


Something he should have rejoiced in, but suddenly couldn’t stand.


“What’s this all about then?” he asked.


She shook her head against him, pulling away. Leaving him cold again.


She turned away from him to hide her face, wiping her tears discreetly as she said, “Just me being stupid, I guess.”


Spotting a small hand towel on the rack next to him, Spike grabbed it and held it out above her shoulder. “Nothing stupid about having a good cry.”


She took it to wipe her face and shot him a thankful glance. “Yes, well, Slayer here. I’m not really used to having a melt down in front of… anyone, really.”


“Think it would make you look weak?”


She shrugged.


“I don’t think any less of you now, Buffy.”


She spun around to face him, her eyes reddened. He shouldn’t have found her to be still gorgeous, but he did.


“You don’t,” she said with disbelief. “So you don’t think I’m pathetic now. You’re not gonna say ‘That was a bloody sodding riot, pet. Now I’m gonna tell all my mates what a bloody crybaby the Slayer really is.’”


Spike gaped at her. “I don’t sound like that at all!”


“A little bit,” she said with a grin then wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand.


So ladylike.


“You can blow your nose into the towel too. They’ll wash it.”


“Ew,” she said but did it anyway.


“And to your previous accusation… No, I would not say that. Never mind that terrible excuse for an accent.” Spike grabbed the clothes she’d washed. “We should hang these somewhere. Air them out so they dry faster. I should probably wash the hospital stink out of my T-shirt.”


She jumped towards him, her cheeks flushed as she snatched the articles from his hands.


“What?” he asked.


“There are my… panties in there,” she whispered scandalously.


He couldn’t help but chuckle. “So what? I just touched Slayer unmentionables? Doesn’t really bother me.”


She hugged them to her chest and strode out of the bathroom. “Of course it doesn’t. You’re a pervert.”


Spike followed her, gazing at her as she folded the damp shirt and knickers over the chair they managed not to destroy.


“Am I? For all you know, I might be all about vanilla sex.”


“I didn’t mention any sex! There is no sex here. We are not talking about... that.” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest then uncrossed them again, fidgeting with her hands.


“Well, call me a pervert and that’s the first thing that pops into my mind.”


And oh, how he loved the way she blushed when he lay down on the bed and stretched, the muscles of his torso taut under his skin. Finally, he crossed his arms behind his head and bent his leg at the knee.


“So are you going commando now?”


“Not voluntarily!” She clutched the towel closer around her and tugged the hem a bit lower though for all the coverage it added, she could as well have left it alone.


“Hey, I’m not judging. Not like I can throw any stones in that department.” He smirked.


She sat down on the chair rigidly, frowning. “What is that supposed to mean?”


He lifted his eyebrow, glanced down at his crotch then back at her. She looked positively mortified.


He loved it.


“You’re not wearing any underwear?” she said in a high pitched voice. “Why?”


“Easy access.”


It was funny to see her try to work out what he meant, her quirky little nose scrunching up so adorably once she got the meaning behind the words.


“Eww.”


Adorable and the biggest prude on the planet. He’d go to a special kind of hell just for wanting to defile her. In the most pleasurable way that would leave her with a voice hoarse from screaming his name all night, of course.


“Nothing ‘ew’ about sex.” His brows drew together as he mulled that one over. “Well… I guess there could be.”


She was talking about sex. With Spike. That was oh so very wrong and, “Like what?”


“Well, unless you’re into bestiality…”


Loving animals had suddenly gained a whole new meaning. Seriously? That was disturbing. She leaned forward in her chair. “People do that?”


“Some. Not my cuppa tea, but to each his own I figure.” He licked his lower lip. “I’d rather have a warm willing female writhing under me. All supple flesh and soft skin.”


The way he stared at her was making her entirely uncomfortable and breathing slowly had suddenly become an issue. She squirmed on the chair.


“Yes, and unless you forgot… that’s what got us in trouble in the first place.”


“At least you’re not sitting at home, getting bored stiff by watching telly. Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this,” he said in a teasing voice.


“Oh yeah. Getting skewered with an arrow, being in a car crash and getting a concussion is my idea of a fun time,” she dead panned though a smile tugged at her resistant lips.


“See? I knew you’d agree with me.”


The smug bastard. He made her cheeks hurt from trying to suppress a grin!


“I was being sarcastic,” she pointed out with her nose high in the air.


“Sure you were,” he said nonchalantly like he was some… big nonchalant guy.


Spike’s eyes were already dropping close when he added, “You should catch a few winks. No use sitting about when the sun’s still up.”


“Huh?” Was that English he was speaking? Stupid British people and their wacky talk.


One of Spike’s eyes fluttered open to pin her with an annoyed look. “Get some sleep.”


“Oh. I knew that.” And wait, who was he to order her around? She would sleep whenever she wanted to. She’d stay awake just to spite him!


“Or don’t. I don’t care either way,” he muttered and rolled over onto his front, half of his face buried in a fluffy pillow.


Well, she was kind of tired. Maybe she’d just lie down and close her eyes for a second, at least until they were ready to leave some place else and get some clothes. Buffy stood up and walked over to her bed. How could she have forgotten there was disgusting slime splattered all over it? She was not picky about stuff like that but she definitely drew the line at sleeping in demon snot.


And hey! Whose fault was this? Not hers, that was for sure. And there Spike lay, his hair mussed up and cute as he hugged the pillow closer to him. The nerve of him!


“I want to sleep in your bed,” she whined.


Only when the words sprang from her mouth to stir the silence around them did she comprehend the not so hidden meaning her brain had failed to pick up on before she opened her mouth. Why did her parents teach her to talk?


Spike’s eyes snapped open as he stared at her with undiluted astonishment, obviously lost for words.


“N-no! I didn’t mean… I meant… your bed. I-” She took a deep breath. “There’s goo all over mine! And it was you who jerked the demon down on my bed and made him shoot it-”


Oh. My. God. Somebody shut me up!


Spike sat up slowly, watching her with his head tilted, his eyes glinting and his cheeks sucked in as he held back his amusement.


She was becoming more flustered by the minute. “Not jerked as in… you know… fiddled with his penis… but you rolled him all over my bed, and then… Oh, God, this is coming out so wrong! What I mea-”


She did not say penis.


Did she?


Spike started laughing. He guffawed and slapped his palms on his knees then pointed at her face that had probably passed the red and gone straight to purple. It was quite rude. And startling. She never even knew Spike could laugh so hysterically. It was… hilarious, and more than a little contagious.


“S-stop that!” she said but couldn’t keep a straight face.


He clutched at his stomach, giggling like a maniac on crack. All she could think of was ‘evil vampire should not giggle’, but all it did was make her laugh so hard she had to lean on the night stand near his bed to be able to catch her breath.


“Jerked him!” Spike called uproariously and went off again, falling back on his back.


Oh, she’d show him making fun of her! That pillow on her bed was just calling her name, pleading with her to pick it up and smash it against Spike’s face. Who was she to refuse?


She grabbed it, still fighting back giggles, and proceeded to thump it right into Spike’s face. Oh, his expression was priceless.


“That’s for making fun of me,” she said with a smirk that could rival his.


Only she’d never anticipated his swift retaliation and the hit on the side of her head caught her completely unaware.


He chuckled at her surprised expression, challenge in his eyes as he wielded his feathery weapon.


“Come and get it, Slayer.”


And then he winked. It was so on.


She clutched her pillow and aimed another hit, but missed as he rolled off the bed and effortlessly sprang to his feet. Somehow he managed to slip behind her and whack her right on her ass. Jumping up, she covered it with her hands, outraged.


Then all hell broke loose.


She chased him all over the room, both of them managing to hit the furniture as often as they hit each other in their fearless pursuit. A lamp crashed to the floor but neither of them cared. At some point she had probably stepped into the gooey remnants of Cary Grant soaked into the carpet. Buffy realised how childish they were being, but she just didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, she was actually having fun.


Spike hit her in a double combo on the back of her legs then on her arm and she squealed then holding onto her towel, she jumped over the mattress to put the bed between them. Only she got herself in between two beds, which was quite a tricky place to be. They squared off, both of them breathing heavy, Spike’s hair a tangled mess crackling with a bit of static from the nylon cover of her pillow. She snorted a giggle.


“Getting scared?” he taunted and made a mock dash to the right. She let out a high pitched noise and mimicked his movement instinctively.


“Oh, bring it on you big bad vampire. I’m so gonna slay you with my… pillow!”


They both grinned and then Spike jumped on the mattress to tackle her, which made her fall on the bed behind her. Spike seized the moment of surprise to yank the pillow out of her hands and fling it over his shoulder. She shot him her best offended look. Naturally, he just raised his hand holding the pillow, smirked then hit her in the face twice.


“Come on then. That the best you’ve got?”


“Oh, you have no idea!”


She clutched at his pillow mid-swing and they struggled to gain hold of it. They both pulled too hard and there was a loud tearing sound right before the bits of fluff flew all around them. As the object of their tug-of-war fell victim to their violence, Spike lost his momentum and fell on top of her with oomph. His bare chest pushed against her breasts, his strong thigh fitting between her legs in a way that made the breath catch in her throat. It felt kind of amazing and utterly wrong in the best possible way to feel his slightly cooler skin in contact with her heated one.


And his eyes? The sultry heat with a glint of mischief held her captive. All she could do was stare back at him as her fingers trailed up his firm biceps. Spike licked his lower lip, his gaze flickering between her eyes and parted lips.


In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to kiss him.


TBC


A/N: Did I make you smile? I did, didn't I?!
 
Chapter eleven
 
A/N: Previously: Buffy and Spike worked out their (sexual) frustrations in a pillow fight. Buffy's towel refuses to drop and most importantly... is there going to be a make-out session??

Awesome betas: All4Spike and BloodyHell


Chapter 11


Bloody hell, how he wanted to kiss her right now. Her sweet looking lips, parted in invitation, were just a hairsbreadth away from his. There was nothing more that he craved. Not even her blood. For the first time he truly understood how much he longed for her. For Buffy. The realization was startling.


Then her fingernails scratched a path up his arms and he had to suppress a purr of approval. And when her leg curled up around his thigh and she did a little shimmy of her hips, he wanted to just tear that tiny towel off and give her good seeing to. Preferably cover her in chocolate sauce and lick it off so slowly she’d beg him to get to her sweet spot to release the tension.


Buffy’s fingers tangled in his hair, and then her lips were on his. No introduction, no shyness, no apology. She was both soft and demanding at the same time, and he couldn’t do anything but sink into her. Drink her in.


She nibbled on his lower lip right before she teased the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue. If he hadn’t been damned already, he’d have sold his soul all over again just so he could savour Buffy for eternity. She tasted like the apples he used to love when he was a little boy. Sweet and fresh and making his mouth water. He didn’t know how he could have gone on with his existence, and not found it lacking, without the feel of her, the taste of her lingering on his tongue as she finally slipped it past his unresisting lips and into his mouth.


She moaned. He grunted. She growled. Wait… she growled? Who knew the Slayer could be such an animal?


He twisted them around so she straddled his hips, their mouths never sliding apart.


*******


Their tongues touched, twining and making Buffy’s heart pound. She was the one who’d attacked him like some kiss starved floozy. She couldn’t care less right now. The only thing that mattered was how his body perfectly countered and complimented hers in all the right places. His hands roamed up her thighs, fingers splayed to rest right under her buttocks with just the right hint of teasing to leave her shivering.


Her hands rested on his chest, her nails digging into the rippling muscles with enough pressure to border on pain. He hummed approvingly into her mouth, his lips slanting over hers with bruising force. Somehow her lower half deemed it necessary to rub against him like a harlot in heat. Buffy didn’t mind. Not when his kisses drugged her up full of something she never knew she could crave.


Oxygen was becoming an issue but she breathed through her nose as well as she could to prolong this seemingly endless wave of rapture. His kisses turned long and deep and so languorous she could feel herself melting against him without reserve.


Nobody had ever kissed her like this.


Nobody.


He made her toes curl. A feat she’d always deemed a fantasy made up in novels. Not with Spike. Spike made fantasy turn into reality in blindingly real, excruciating detail that left her breathless and aching for more. And the fantasy she’d had? Didn’t even come close to this.


Oh, how she wanted more. To just throw her already precariously positioned towel off and strip off his tight jeans. She longed to climb his body like it was a tree and let primal instinct take over completely. Instead, Buffy sucked his lower lip into her mouth, nibbled on it then soothed it with the tip of her tongue. Her skin felt too tight everywhere he touched her, igniting a raging inferno in her veins.


Then a really loud bang sounded on the wall near their heads, turning into a steadily increasing staccato that betrayed the activities of their neighbours when it was followed by a loud scream for Lord. Somehow, Buffy thought God wouldn’t appreciate having his name called in a situation like that. She certainly didn’t.


She and Spike pulled away at the same time, her lips tingling as she stared into his shocked face. He looked exactly like she felt right now. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence-- apart from the moans coming from the next room-- then Buffy scrambled off him.


Her towel chose that moment to come undone. Spike’s gaze that shifted to her exposed breasts turned even more dazed.


She squeaked and quickly clutched it against her naked body. They glanced at each other, her brain tripping to find a safe topic of discussion.


“I’m hungry!” she exclaimed and pointed to the phone.


Spike nodded. “Right. I gotta…” His eyes darted around the room until they landed on his black T-shirt. “Gotta wash that. Yeah.”


“You should… all the dirtiness… so not good.”


“No. It’s very, very wrong.”


He stared at her intensely and she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about laundry anymore. She found herself leaning towards him, almost toppling over in the process before she snapped out of it.


Why can’t I stop blushing? Damn summer heat!


Spike seemed to shake himself out of it too and sent her a look that straddled the line between embarrassed and lustful. Why did he have to be so talented? Now all she could think about was tossing him back on that bed and continuing what they’d started.


Spike rushed over to pick up his T-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom.


Buffy plopped down on the bed then grimaced when her palm landed in a blob of slime. Great. That was just great.


“Ugh. I’m the worst Slayer ever.”


She totally blamed this on Giles for not giving her the Slayer handbook.


*******


The place was completely ransacked. Smashed furniture? Check. Gooey substance and blood covering the bed and floor? Check. Pillow stuffing strewn about from their impromptu fight that had resulted in her acting like Buffy the Big Ho? Double check.


She couldn’t believe Spike had refused to pay for the damages. Yes, actually, she could. What she didn’t quite get was how quickly she had given up on convincing him after a few arguments and now they were fleeing the motel like a pair of criminals. He had a really bad influence on her morals. By the time they separated, she would be riding a bike in leather pants, smoke like a chimney and wear a red lipstick titled Slutty Crimson or something. She’d be like Faith! Worse even!


Spike opened the car door for her then rounded the car to slide into the driver’s seat. “Come on, Slayer. Hop in.”


Spike had opened the door for her. And he didn’t even make a big deal out it, looking as though gentlemanly behaviour was a given between two hated enemies. Then again, she couldn’t really call them that anymore.


She climbed inside and shut the door. What were they then? She didn’t hate Spike anymore. Kind of hated that she wanted to jump his bones and kiss him senseless, but she didn’t hate him. She was doomed.


Spike hotwired the car, straightened up in his seat and pressed his foot against the pedal. Tires screeched as they peeled out of the lot, the sudden movement pushing Buffy further into her seat.


“Um… we should find a gas station. Buy some clothes,” she said, tucking a strand of errant hair behind her ear and glancing at Spike’s profile from the corner of her eye. The clothes she washed were still a bit damp, which wasn’t the most comfortable thing to wear.


He nodded. “Gotta fill the tank too. We’re running a bit low on gas.”


She caught herself staring at him, her fingers twitching with the urge to ruffle his hair.


“Where do you get the money from anyway? You always have some. Do you keep it in your magic yellow socks or something?”


Spike shot her a smirk, eyes glinting with mischief. “Pick pocketing, love. You should try it sometime”


She gaped. “What? When did you do it? I was with you the whole time!”


“At the hospital. This old bird got all snooty when I asked her about the town we were in, so I paid her back.” He grinned. “Or I guess she paid me.”


“Spike! You can’t take money from some poor old lady! And what if she was there because someone she loved got hurt, and top of that, she’ll find her purse missing!”


What had he been thinking? And why couldn’t she get he had no conscience? Stupid, stupid Buffy.


The muscle in his jaw ticked in a clear sign of irritation. And the fact she even knew that was more than worrying. Since when was she the expert on Spike’s facial expressions?


“She practically screamed money, right down to the expensive heels she was wearing.”


“Since when do you know what expensive shoes look like? You’re not a closet gay, are you?”


The corner of his lips lifted in an arrogant smile. “Think you knew better by now.”


She was so not ready to talk about the major make out session they had indulged in.


“Really? You want to tell me that not once in all those years have you ever done anything with a man?” She folded her arms over her chest and gazed at him expectantly.


“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked with a lewd look in her direction that made her insides do a funny floppy thing.


“Would there be oil involved?” she mumbled, zoning off at the thought.


“Someone’s having nasty thoughts,” he taunted in a deep rumbling voice that drove her to distraction.


“Oh, shut up.”


He laughed.


*******


They were at a gas station, and Spike had a half mind to strangle the Slayer. He was fairly certain he had never before met anyone who took so much time to pick one T-shirt.


“Oh for fuck’s sake, just take one already!” His temples were starting to throb.


“But there’s so many of them!” She pouted and stared at the novelty T-shirts folded on the rack.


He clenched his jaw and slowly exhaled to resist the urge to shake some sense into her. Instead he stomped closer to the rack, grabbed the first T-shirt his eyes landed one and thrust it into her hands.


“Here. This one’s bloody marvelous. Can we go now?” He may have whined a little.


Holding the article arms length away from her chest, Buffy inspected it and wrinkled her nose. “It’s orange.”


“And?”


“I won’t be caught dead in it,” she said, giving him a firm look.


“No, but I might kill you if you won’t choose one in the next bloody minute!”


“Geez, chill out.”


She could be such an insolent brat. Who knew? Spike had the urge to slam his head against the nearest wall just to end the torture. Or quite possibly slam her against the nearest surface and kiss that attitude right out of her.


“I want this one,” she said with a sheepish smile, holding a simple black T-shirt with a slogan his tired brain had no interest in resolving.


He swore he could hear the heavenly choir in his head, so relieved he felt. That was until she exclaimed she needed shorts. God help him, this was torture. She could give Angelus lessons.


He gave up following her and slumped against the nearest wall, watching her as she went through shorts he kind of couldn’t wait to see on her. So much better when he didn’t have to listen to her whining about the terrible gas station fashion offerings.


She was quite the sight, wearing his red shirt and hospital slippers without much else, really. Apparently, the cashier didn’t get the memo that he had no right to stare at what was Spike’s. And she was, damn it. Even if she didn’t know it yet. The kiss she gave him had him well and truly craving more of her sweet lips.


His narrowed eyes shifted to the cashier, waiting until the clueless idiot finally realised he was being watched. When their eyes met, Spike put on his best threatening glare that spoke for himself. And if his irises flashes gold for a second? It wasn’t his fault.


The cashier swallowed hard and dropped his eyes to the counter where he quickly started to leaf through a magazine. Spike grinned in satisfaction. That was more like it.


Just as he turned his attention back to Buffy, he found her standing in front of teddy bears with a sad look on her face. Now what the hell could have happened with the furry bastards that would upset her?


He pushed himself away from the wall and approached her.


“Got everything?”


She nodded and picked up a fluffy rabbit that only had one eye. Now that he looked closely, the rabbit had one ear longer than the other. The same went for his limbs.


“Looks like he’s been in a fight or two. Nobody is going to buy that thing,” Spike commented which earned him a stern look from Buffy.


“Do you have to be so mean? Just because Mr. Donald isn’t the prettiest rabbit of the bunch doesn’t mean he’s not just as good… better even!”


“Wha-”


“Don’t you dare eat the guy at the cash register,” she hissed out in a whisper.


With that Buffy put the toy reluctantly back, thrust the T-shirt and shorts she’d chosen into his arms and walked out of the gas station without another word. Spike stood there, still trying to comprehend what had happened and what he had said to make her mad. And did she already name the thing?


Shaking his head, Spike stood there fidgeting, trying to push back the urge to buy her the blasted rabbit. He took a step away from the toy selection then huffed, rolled his eyes and turned around again to grab the fluffy toy before turning to walk towards the cash register to pay for it. He was completely, utterly whipped.


TBC

 

 
Chapter twelve
 

A/N: Previously: Spike proved he's really just a big fluffy marshmallow when he bought Buffy a lopsided furry bastard named Mr.Donald. Also, they made out.

Awesome betas: All4Spike and BloodyHell.

On a completely unrelated topic, could you pretty please read this thread?? My life depends on it! http://bloodshedverse.com/forum.php?go=read&no=25121


Chapter 12


By the time Spike was making his way towards the car, the stupidity of buying her a stuffed animal hit him full force. He hid it behind his back, preparing to throw it away into nearby bushes when Buffy met his eyes from across the lot. Great, now he couldn’t because she’d see it.


Bugger.


How did he get himself into situations like this? Did he want her to make fun of him? Maybe he could somehow manage to sneak the toy into the car’s trunk without her noticing. It sure beat giving it to her and being laughed at while she threw it back in his face. Literally. Or having Buffy pull a Drusilla on him and pat him condescendingly on the head like he was some eager puppy not worthy enough to lick her heels.


Did he enjoy getting his heart broken?


Bloody masochist, that’s what I am.


“Here’s your stuff,” he said gruffly then handed her the bag with clothes in it, keeping his hand gripping the rabbit behind his back.


She took it and reached inside to pull out the contents, looking surprised when she encountered flip-flops.


“Oh, I totally forgot the shoes! Awesome. They even have tiny flowers on them,” she said with a teasing smile.


Spike’s mouth ran a little dry when she dragged the light pink shorts up her lean tanned legs, unwittingly giving him a quick gander at her knickers. Then she slipped into the flip-flops, wriggling her cute little toes experimentally.


“Ah, clothes. How I missed you.”


He certainly hadn’t.


“Right. I gotta… yeah.” He started to back away from her and towards the trunk, praying to any god she would not discover what he was hiding.


“What have you got there?”


He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes in frustration for a second.


Come on, someone give me a break!


“Nothing. Just a pack of cigarettes.”


“Oh. Did you want to light one up before we go? Because I’m not letting you stink up the car.”


“Not right now, no. Maybe at the next stop.”


 Buffy frowned. “Okay, you’re acting way weird. You’re all… twitchy and stuff. More so than usual, I mean.”


He backed further away while she began to stalk him, trying to see around him.


“Would you just leave it, Slayer?”


“Nope. Now you’ve got me curious.” She jumped towards him and yanked on his arm but he put an equal amount of strength to keep it behind his back.


After a few moments of struggling, Buffy said, “Come on, Spike. Show me? Please?”


His shoulders slumped as he let her pull on his arm, ready to face the humiliation. The excruciating silence that followed was so loud in his head he could almost hear the seconds of the clock within the gas station ticking by.


“It’s Mr. Donald,” she said quietly and looked up at him, her dark green eyes alight with bemused wonder.


“It’s stupid. I… um… I shouldn’t have… let me just throw it away.” He moved to do just that when she clutched at his arm with lightening speed.


“No!” She snatched the toy from his fingers and hugged it to her chest. “I like him.”
 

“You do?” She wasn’t making fun of him, was she? Why wasn’t she making fun of him? He had practically handed her the opportunity on a silver platter.


“Yes, Spike. Thank you.”


Then she closed the distance between them and pressed her soft lips against his cheek, leaving him completely stunned. Just that alone made him feel like William again, and he’d never been more thankful for his inability to blush.


“Welcome,” he mumbled when she pulled away, trying to shrug off the feelings Buffy evoked in him so effortlessly.


“Hey, want to see my T-shirt?” she asked with a grin.


He shrugged. “Sure.”


“Okay, just a second.” With that she climbed into the car and slammed the door behind her.


He could vaguely see the shape of her torso through the dark tinted windows as she slipped the T-shirt over her head. Soon she was sliding out of the car with a quiet amusement written all over her face and stretched the T-shirt so he could read the slogan. Admittedly, it took him a while to get his brain working when his eyes got almost permanently glued to her fabric covered breasts.


The T-shirt read: ‘I don’t bite.’


Spike snorted. “Nice, Slayer. Do I detect a dig at yours truly?”


“You know, maybe you should be the one wearing it. How would be that for irony? Though now that I think about it, they did have one that was totally you. Want to know what it said?”


“I bet it was ‘I’m drop dead gorgeous.’”


She shot him an indignant look and continued as though he hadn’t said a word. “It said ‘I’m only wearing black until they make something darker.’”


He smirked and took a step closer to her, his tone deep and low as he whispered, “You know you like me in black.”


She shook her head, swallowing audibly as he backed her against the car.


“You’re way conceited,” she said in a trembling voice. “I don’t like you at all.”


“Is that right, Buffy?” There was barely an inch separating their bodies, and Spike reached out to gently trace the length of her bare arm with his fingertips. “You don’t like it when I touch you like this?”


The way she shivered, her breath hitching in her throat just the tiniest bit, almost drove him wild.


“No,” she protested weakly and for a few seconds that could as well have been hours, their eyes met in the equal submission to desire. Desire for each other, for fulfilling the insatiable lust that couldn’t be denied any longer. Their lips met halfway, burning a fiery path of sensation from his lips right to his very core that made his blood race south.


Buffy’s fingers tangled in his hair just as he pressed her forcefully against the car, the heat of her body seeping into his skin separated by two layers of fabric. The taste of her when the tips of their tongues met in a rapturous symphony had him gripping her hips tight enough to bruise, their moans and whimpers stirring the silence of the parking lot.


Their lips slanted together, rubbing each other raw with the need for more. More feelings, more fire, more everything. The hardened tips of her breasts were pressed against his chest, making him growl with the need to whip the T-shirt over her head and suck them between his lips just like he was currently doing to her tongue. Buffy gripped his hair tighter, her breath getting heavier when he pressed his thigh between her legs and urged her to rock against him.


She threw her head back, gulping in air as she rasped, “We really shouldn’t be doing this… wrong, wrong kissing.”


“Yeah.”


Then they were kissing again, his hand sliding under her T-shirt to graze the hot skin of her stomach, feeling goose bumps rise under his touch. When she didn’t stop him, his fingers crawled up her ribcage until they brushed the underside of her breast. He was learning to crave the sound of those little noises in the back of Buffy’s throat when she was desperate for more.


When he palmed her breast, squeezing lightly, she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, arching her back. He didn’t mind. The fact she must have tasted it and yet had not recoiled in disgust made him harder than anything thus far. If such a thing was possible.


Buffy had wormed her way under his skin. Spike hadn’t even noticed when or how, but the way he craved the very feel of her was enough to convince him Drusilla might have been right all along. By tasting the Slayer, he’d opened Pandora’s Box and now he had to have even more. Her heart, body and soul. He wanted it all, for nothing less would stifle this incredible thirst raging through his body.


Too absorbed in each other, neither of them noticed they were being followed by five pairs of cat like eyes hungry for revenge.


Buffy’s heartbeat was thunderous against his own chest, the rush of her blood so loud in his ears he never noticed the enemy creeping up behind him.


Sharp pain raced up the back of his skull, and then he was yanked away from Buffy’s arms, the roughness of the pavement skinning his palms when he was shoved down. He caught a glimpse of Buffy falling to the ground as well before someone hit him over the head again and the world melted away.


*******


The first thing Buffy acknowledged when she opened her eyes was the pain shooting through her brain, beating at the walls of her skull with the force of a vicious demon. She fought to recall what had happened, and why she was currently lying face-down on the ground in a place she didn’t recognize. The last thing she remembered was Spike. Spike and his lips chipping away at her practically non-existent resistance.


Maybe this was the sign of higher powers throwing reason in her face, literally smacking her with it. One moment of unguarded passion in the arms of her former enemy, and the universe showered her with buckets of doubt.


She wanted him.


The notion of it utterly terrified her, but she couldn’t do anything but crave the taste of him enough for it to physically ache. What was wrong with her? With both of them?


She pulled herself into a sitting position, absentmindedly rubbing the side of her head and musing whether the constant assault on her brain would have lasting effects. Maybe she’d sober up for a change and realize how thoroughly insane she was acting where Spike was concerned.


Where was he anyway?


She glanced around, squinting through the pain pounding behind her eyelids. She was in some sort of roughly built shack or a really big tent of some kind, the walls tightly corded by leaves and branches keeping out the outside elements. There was a narrow cot -- if one could call it that -- constructed from heaps of animal skins and furs. Then it all came back to her. The reason why she was here, and what must have happened.


It was them. The Amazons.


How could they have been so stupid to not have noticed?


What did they do to Spike?


Buffy climbed to her feet, staggering a bit before straightening up to rush to the exit. Cold sweat had erupted on her skin at the thought of Spike being dust. The very thought of it made her nauseous, her stomach rolling rebelliously against the possibility.


She stopped in her stride briefly to gather her bearings. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this. To care. Not for Spike. No matter how his kisses turned her world upside down. Not when she shouldn’t have allowed that to happen in the first place.


When Buffy reached out to brush away the fabric covering the makeshift door, she came face to face with a woman. She was at least a head taller than her, her expression just as startled as Buffy felt.


Snapping out of her shock quickly, Buffy said angrily, “Where am I?”


“Middle of a forest,” the woman replied calmly and her arm grazed Buffy’s slightly when she entered the shack.


“Where’s Spike?”


The woman frowned. “You mean him.”


She said the world ‘him’ with distaste one would use if they stepped in a horse poo.


“Yes! Tell me where he is. What did you do to him?”


The woman sighed. “Nothing. Well, not yet anyway. It hasn’t been decided yet.”


That didn’t sound reassuring at all. She wouldn’t waste any time engaging in a meaningless conversation. Buffy pivoted on her heel and set out to leave. Just as her foot was about to cross the doorstep, an invisible force bounced her back into the room.


TBC

 

 
Chapter thirteen
 
A/N: Previously on RftI: Spike and Buffy got too distracted with groping each other and now Amazons have them! Oh damn.

All4Spike and BloodyHell beta'd this. Aren't they the best? Yes, yes they are.


Chapter 13


Buffy leaped to her feet and swiftly turned around to glare at the woman.


“What is this?”


The woman’s eyes darted between Buffy and the door in confusion then she said in a voice that suggested Buffy was a moron, “It’s a magical barrier.”


Buffy gritted her teeth. “I can see that. Fair warning, lady. You really don’t want to piss me off. This is the way it’s gonna be… either you let me pass, or I’ll break every single bone in your body. And believe me, just because I’m shorter doesn’t mean I can’t wipe the floor with you.”


“We only punish the man.”


“Yes. And by hurting him, you’ll piss me off even more. Nobody gets to hurt that bleached jerk but me!” As soon as the words leaped off her lips, Buffy realised how incredibly proprietary it sounded. And how much she actually meant it.


The Amazon avoided Buffy’s intense stare, seemingly uncomfortable as she whispered, “You’re her, aren’t you?”


Buffy was getting irritated. She was so not in mood for an idle chit-chat. “Wha-”


The Amazon turned her earnest eyes to her. “I didn’t know he already had a mate, I swear. He said he didn’t. Don’t you see? He’s playing you for a fool. He deserves to be punished!”


Okay, now Buffy was even more confused than ever. Was it because she didn’t speak the angry-feminist language? Wait, she kind of did. But it was more than obvious there was something between the lines she was simply not getting.


“Okay, slow down. I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I take offense at being called a fool.”


The Amazon raked her slender fingers though the thick long hair reaching to her waist that was only a shade darker than Buffy’s.


Stupid shampoo commercial hair.


“When I engaged him in sexual intercourse, I was under the impression he was free. Then he called out the other name.” The Amazon’s lips pursed, and she looked away as though speaking of it brought immeasurable shame upon her. “Before we took yo-”


“Kidnapped me, you mean.” Anger prickled Buffy’s skin, and she wasn’t sure whether it was about getting smashed over the head or something else entirely. Something eerily reminiscent of jealousy.


The Amazon held in a breath, exhaled it slowly and continued as though uninterrupted, “Before we took you from the parking lot, I heard him call you by name.” She looked at her expectantly.


Buffy raised her eyebrow. “And you hated my name so much you hit me on the head? You people need to learn some manners.”


The Amazon frowned. “What?” She shook her head. “It was the same name he’d called when we reached the climax. If I knew he had already been branded by someone else I would have-”


But Buffy wasn’t listening anymore. She couldn’t even if she wanted to and barely even registered as she slowly walked to the heaps of furs and dropped down, her mind reeling. It was her name Spike called? Not Drusilla’s? But that had been before the heated make out sessions and buying her a stuffed animal. Back before they surpassed the status of ‘mortal enemies sworn to a mutual hatred’ to reach the one labeled ‘mortal enemies who can’t keep their hands off each other.’


“- so it could be your choice,” the Amazon finished.


Buffy snapped back to the conversation—or more like a yawn-worthy monologue—at hand and pushed herself to her feet.


“Huh?”


The other woman sighed heavily once more. “I said I am not the only one who has been wronged.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I am sorry. I was not aware he belonged to another woman. As my apology, you can be the one to decide on punishment.”


Maybe she could use this to her advantage. Somehow. Or punish Spike for lying to her since the very beginning. What had been his motivations for seeking her out? Had he planned to kidnap her from the very beginning, feeding a perverse obsession of some kind? It didn’t sound likely, but trusting men had never turned out in her favour. And with a start, she realised she really did trust Spike. How stupid was she?


“Oh, now you apologize? You almost got me killed!”


The Amazon stared at her with the orange cat-like eyes. “You were in our way.”


“So you aimed at me too?”


“You do not understand my species. Nothing or no one gets in the way of our vengeance.”


Buffy raised her hands palms out in a defensive gesture. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?”


The Amazon’s narrowed eyes flashed with streaks of red, her fists clenching. “He humiliated me! You could never understand what shame it has brought upon me. The clan will not respect me again until he gets what he deserves. In front of everyone.”


“Sheesh, chill out.”


Fingers slowly unclenching, the Amazon folded her arms across her barely covered chest as she asked, “So, will you participate in his punishment or not?”


*******


Spike could sense the sunlight seeping into the earth above him slowly but steadily getting cooler as the day wore by. His ankles and wrists had been manacled and secured together and the bloody chains must have been enchanted as well because no matter how hard he pulled, they remained solid. If they wanted to hurt Buffy there was nothing he could do about it.


In a burst of rage, Spike punched the wall of what seemed to be an old well gone dry, snarling as the pain shot up his arm. He felt more claustrophobic by the minute, feeling the rounded walls closing in on him. The only exit was several feet above his head and there was no way he could get to it. He’d tried and failed. Mainly because the walls were slick and his chains barely allowed him to shuffle around.


“Come on, you fucking cowards! Let me out! Let’s fight! Are you scared, is that it? Shaking in your knickers at the sight of a real Big Bad?”


No one answered. Not that he was very surprised.


Spike let out a sigh and sank to his knees, not caring that mud was now ruining his jeans. Fuck, this would be a long day.


*******


It was after the sun had set that Spike got stirred from his daze by the sound of the lid above being dragged to the side. Moonlight spilled inside, forcing him to blink to adjust from spending God knew how long enveloped in complete darkness. Then the end of a rope dropped down, swaying in the air.


He stared at it, hesitating.


“Either you take it or we leave you here for eternity,” called a female voice from above.


Well, when they put it that way.


He grasped it, legs crossing around it as they pulled him upwards. When his body rolled on the grass covered earth, Spike could feel himself relax for a fraction of a second. There was nothing he hated more than being stuck in a dark narrow space. Nothing.


Soon two tall women were dragging him behind them as though he was a sack of stones. He could bloody well walk by himself!


Primitive music echoed throughout the forest, making the birds fly out from the tree crowns. His gut tightened at the anticipation weaving into the tapestry of night. The anticipation for blood. Probably his. He could practically taste the excitement making their demonic blood pump a few beats quicker and it made him sick.

 

He hoped Buffy was all right.


The sound of the gongs and what he now recognised as drums got louder the further they dragged him down a forest path. His yellow eyes darted about frantically, trying to spot some sort of weapon he could use if the opportunity arose. Or more like when.


The figures of tall women materialised from the shadows, their skin gleaming under the moonlight streaming through the branches. He was shoved to his knees and his eyes rose to focus on the stone steps leading to a small stone stage. In the middle was an altar that looked way too sacrificial for his liking. Two Amazons stood in front of it but it was the third figure that caught his attention.


“Buffy?” he murmured to himself.


He let out a secret sigh of relief that she appeared to be unharmed but frowned when she refused to meet his eyes.


“We bring you forth, man, to punish you for offending the pride of one of our own.”


“Oh come, on. Made her come, didn’t I? Bet it was more than she got-”


He was struck on his back with what had to be a whip. Sharp pain slammed into him, spreading like wild fire all around the wound that wouldn’t help the already half-ruined state of his T-shirt. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming, his whole body straining to escape the pain.


“Speak out of turn again, and you will be struck.”


Some of the women clapped in appreciation of the violence and murmured excitedly among themselves. Bloody feminists. It took all his willpower to keep his mouth firmly shut so he settled for fierce scowling instead.


“We have decided our guest will be the one to choose punishment.”


Spike’s eyes snapped to Buffy’s and she returned his gaze for a second. Now, he knew the Slayer and even though her face was contorted in a stoic mask, her eyes communicated a different story altogether. He nodded almost imperceptibly and lowered his gaze.


“There are three options.” The woman who spoke turned to Buffy. “Removal of intestinal organs, cutting off the testicles or gouging out the eyes and the tongue. Your choice.”


All eyes shifted to Buffy as the entire company waited for her to speak. Spike gulped despite his trust in her ability to get them out of this. But she would, right? Surely she had some kind of elaborate plan. She screwed his more than once with her annoying habit of winning over the bad guys.


Yeah, but your plans weren’t exactly foolproof, were they?


Oh bloody hell, he loved his testicles!


“Oh, wow,” Buffy said with a forced nervous laugh. Spike cringed. “There are so many… tempting choices. What was the second one again?”


The woman repeated it and Spike was hard pressed not to tremble in fear.


“Yeah that one.”


Oh, he would bloody kill her if they got out of this.


Two women pulled him to his unsteady feet and yanked him up the steps, closer and closer towards the altar. As soon as he dug in his heels, the woman behind him struck him with the whip again. Shocked by the blaze of sudden pain, Spike screamed and almost fell. Weak and dazed, he barely registered as they removed the chains.


“Now!” Buffy yelled and he had to gather strength from every cell of his body that didn’t scream in fatigue and pain. He clenched his jaw, seized the cut off chain and swung it around.


Adrenaline pumped through his veins, granting him the power he needed. He hit the woman with the whip right across her face so hard half of her face got almost completely ripped off. He grinned and kicked the whip out of her hands.


“How do you like that, bitch?”


The battle cry of angry Amazons pierced the air, and Spike’s eyes widened as he took in the mass of bodies rushing the stage.


“Oh, crap,” Buffy said from next to him. “I don’t think I thought this through.”


Spike chuckled and saw her bury the dagger she’d been holding into her opponent’s chest before she turned to another.


The Amazons shrieked inhumanly, their eyes turning red, the bones of their limbs lengthening in a macabre transformation, making them appear beyond anorexic. They charged them all at once from all sides and Spike felt Buffy with her back against him as they fought for their lives.


Gleefully, he licked his fangs and wrapped one end of the chain around his hand.


TBC

 

 
Chapter fourteen
 

A/N: Previously: Spike and Buffy got captured by the Amazons and Buffy found out whose name Spike called at the 'crucial moment'. Also, Spike's testicles got threatened and now they'll have to fight against the odds to get out fo the mess.

All4Spike and BloodyHell beta'd this because they rock.

 

Chapter 14


“Bloody die already!” Spike yelled and planted his heavy boot in the middle of an Amazon’s sternum. The force of the hit made her fly through the air, at least half a dozen Amazons that had been standing behind her falling to the ground like domino pieces. It was marvelous.


“How many did you get?” he called at Buffy over his shoulder.


“Five.”


“I got six. You’re slacking off, Slayer.” Twist of the head, another bird was dead.


“Seven! Take that, vampire.”


“Still plenty to go around, Slayer. No need to hog them all.”


With his teeth bared in a vicious grin, Spike roundhouse-kicked another opponent in the head. The powerful blow sent the Amazon’s head rocking to the side so hard it snapped her neck. As minutes trickled by, the bodies began piling up, littering the ground and steps leading to the altar like broken dolls cast away by an uncaring child. This was what he needed. Both of them. To indulge in violence that had been steadily making them antsy for a good fight. In that moment, as Spike leaped and kicked and choreographed his movements to mold them to Buffy’s, he realised that fighting Buffy could never compare to the feeling of fighting by her side.


Back to back, together they were fluid and deadly, wreaking havoc on the female demon community with bone crunching impact. Buffy had surpassed him in the number she had slain but they were constantly neck and neck, chasing each other to the finish line. Spike let his instincts take over, the staccato of Buffy’s heart the soundtrack to spur him on.


Fifteen minutes into the battle, the unwavering stream of enemies kept swarming both him and Buffy in a relentless pursuit. Unable to avoid the sharp blade of a dagger as it swept towards his shoulder, nicking his skin, Spike dropped to the ground, sweeping the legs from under his attacker. The Amazon fell, knife clattering on the stone beneath their feet right before Spike rose and slammed his foot hard on her neck. By then he was already fending off another three attackers at the same time. He slashed at them with a dagger he’d swiped from one of the previous attackers and blood sprayed across his face. He licked his lips, his demon roaring at the hint of a taste. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until the drop hit his tongue.


The bloodlust overwhelmed him, making him falter just for a second. One second long enough for his enemy to seize the chance and thrust her knife into his belly. He roared in pain, lashing out with the chain in his other hand as he pulled the knife out of his abdomen. The chain wrapped around her throat and Spike twisted, barely registering as she sank to the ground. Another two took her place. It seemed as though no matter how many he and Buffy killed, they kept coming, strong and resilient. He could feel the fatigue and pain creep into his muscles now, making him tremble with the effort to keep fighting.


There were at least thirty more of them and Spike was getting tired. Still he ignored the blood seeping from the slashes on his back and the open wound on his belly. Tried to ignore Buffy crying out in pain before the scent of her blood hit the air. There was nothing more he wanted than to turn around and make she sure she was fine, but he couldn’t for the woman in front of him was currently aiming a vicious kick to his midsection. He deflected her kick at the last moment, yanking her close to tear into her throat with his fangs. He barely got a sip before he had to let her fall and punched another Amazon in the face.


Right now he was running on pure adrenalin, hoping it would last long enough for them to make it out alive. In the darkest corner of his mind doubt flickered, threatening to blaze up into sheer panic.


They weren’t going to make it.


Behind him, Buffy gasped in pain right as the Amazon in front of him buried her knife into his chest, twisted and yanked it out. The agony exploding inside him almost rendered him blind. Spike’s knees buckled. Buffy’s heart beat frantically, skipping erratically as she struggled to fend off the attackers in desperate attempt to make a fatal dent into their numbers.


She’d never noticed him fall.


Right before his knees hit the ground, Spike punched the Amazon in the face hard enough to send her staggering down the steps. Sweet oblivion called to him, a Siren’s song promising bleak painless unconsciousness.


Buffy held fingers to her wounded side, slashing at her adversaries with one hand clutching a long sacrificial dagger. Drops of sweat welled up on her upper lip, her breath coming out short and ragged. It was when she slew another Amazon that she sensed something was wrong. She shot a quick look over shoulder. At the sight of Spike kneeling on the ground, one bloodied hand clutching at the altar, her heart froze.


“Spike!”


With a scream, she swept her dagger in a wide arc, killing four Amazons at once and rushed to Spike’s side. His eyes were barely open but still he fought to rise, his legs not listening to his commands. Then the ground beneath them rumbled with echoes of a small earthquake, wind whipped and howled as the oppressive energy of magic erupted around them.


Everything seemed to freeze all at once, the female warriors glancing around them in confusion. They didn’t know one thing Buffy did. They’d never considered that by trusting in her supposed need for revenge-- by trusting her-- they had dug own their own graves. It was either them or her and Spike. In the end, the choice was an easy one to make.


Only now did Buffy realize that the solution she’d been waiting for was as obvious and as simple as the fact they were going to survive. The answer was staring her right in the face, the crimson handprints staining the protruding stone altar.


It had been Spike’s blood since the beginning of the charade, and now Buffy rose to her feet, her fingers clutching the sacrificial dagger that was the key to everything. The key to commanding the enormous beast constructed by the sheer will of ancient magic, appearing from the rumbling earth as though it had just climbed out of the hell itself. It was a mass of rocks and molten lava, turning its glowing crimson gaze to her, ready to do her bidding.


What Spike didn’t know was that the torture she had been assigned to enact was merely entertainment for the bloodthirsty crowd. The way for his blood to flow upon the ancient stone and bring forth the real punishment. The beast commanded by Amazons since the very origin of their existence, their own mercenary to carry out their dirty work and tear apart those who wronged their kind.


And now Buffy held the power. And she was going to use it to save them both.


“Kill the Amazons,” she said, exhausted and triumphant all at once.


The screaming and feet pounding on the ground in the remaining Amazons’ fruitless attempt to escape the beast’s wrath faded into the background as Buffy collapsed next to Spike. The fear and pain and exhaustion slammed into her like a sledgehammer.


“Spike?”


He emitted a low pitched sound, barely moving.


“It’s over. We won.”


“Knew you’d… do it,” he gasped and coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You alright?”


She smiled despite herself. “Asks the walking shish kebab.”


His answering chuckle sent him into a spasm and made her feel bad for joking.


“Don’t make… me laugh… Buffy.”


Spike calling her by name rather than just Slayer was a rarity that made her skin tingle with pleasure despite her aching muscles. Right at this moment, surrounded by carnage and hurting like hell, Buffy could admit to herself that she loved the way it flowed off his lips. Like her name was something to be cherished. Like she was.


“I can’t believe… you agreed to hack off… my balls,” Spike wheezed, offended.


Buffy rolled her eyes.


*******


After the beast annihilated the entire Amazon community, Buffy had bid him to go poof and never come back, broke the dagger in two pieces and buried it in the soil so nobody could use it for summoning ever again. Well, right after she had located the flip-flops that had flew off her feet as soon as she started to fight. She wrinkled her nose as she glimpsed the dirt etched under her fingernails. The whole Slayer gig sure was a bitch on her looks.


The skies were still dark but they had no idea where they were or if they’d find shelter once they decided to take the risk and travel tonight rather than wait one more day.


Also, she was starving and not in one stupid tent did she find anything even remotely resembling human food. What had the Amazons been eating? Buffy was sure she didn’t want to know.


She’d kill for pancakes right now.


“Spike?”


He was in pretty bad shape but at least he hadn’t passed out. That was probably due to the blood he had sucked out of the fallen warriors. She should be squicked. Really, she should. Except she spent half of her free time buried in demon guts, being the Slayer and all. At least this time there was no slime.


“Yeah?” he asked from where he was leaning with his hip propped against a tree.


“Do you think we should go now, or wait for tomorrow?”


“I say we go. Had enough of this hellhole for one day.”


Buffy approached him, peering up at him through darkness. “But what if we can’t make it to a shelter before the sun comes up?”


“Worried about me, love?”


“What? Of course not!” immediately sprang from her lips. It was a reflex, more than anything.


Spike shrugged as though her reply didn’t bother him at all but he wouldn’t quite look her in the eye. For a moment she wondered if she had the power to hurt him.


“Yeah, let’s get going then. Wouldn’t wanna waste any more time, would we?”


“Spike…” She had no idea what she wanted to say. Apologize? For what? A couple of kisses didn’t mean they’d travel down the road of star-crossed lovers complete with cheesy music and longing stares. Been there, done that. Too many people had gotten hurt.


“Just leave it, Slayer.”


Somehow the remote tone of his voice when he called her that stung her more than she’d like to admit.


“You should take your T-shirt off,” she suggested as he pushed himself away from the tree.


“Knew you wanted me naked.” He smirked, though it seemed a bit forced. “I’m hurt. You should know a man like me isn’t easy. At least buy me a dinner first. Take me to a movie, buy me flowers. Really, Slayer, is that too much to ask for a tad of respect?”


“So you’re saying you’ll strip if I buy you some junk food?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow.


“Make it spicy Buffalo wings and that fried onion stuff and you’ve got yourself a striptease.”


Buffy shook her head. “You’re so weird.”


“And you’re the one asking for a dance number. Again.”


“What? I’ve never—”


“Little hospital trip ring any bells?”


Oh. Right. She had. Damn him and his elephant memory.


“That doesn’t count.” Her lower lip jutted out in a pout. “And that’s not why I suggested it. It’s completely ruined. But keep it if you want. I don’t care.”


She turned on her heel and set out down the forest path.


“Buffy!” His footsteps sounded close behind and she slowed down so he could catch up.


His face was half-hidden by shadows, his pale skin almost gleaming with its own inner light under the moon. He was breathtaking.


“We made a pretty good team back there,” he mumbled, almost shyly.


“Yes, we did,” she said with a hint of a smile.


If only she knew what that meant, and why she couldn’t stop thinking about how being in Spike’s arms made the whole world with its petty problems disappear.


TBC

 

A/N: Don't hog your thoughts. Let me hear them! ;)

 

 
Chapter fifteen
 
A/N: Previously: Spike and Buffy finally defeated Amazons! Now all they have to do is figure out their non-relationship. That should be easy, right? 

Lovely All4Spike and BloodyHell beta'd this!

 

Chapter 15


This was the first time Buffy had ever walked through a forest at night—in flip-flops at that-- and she was steadily getting more irritated by the minute. Sure, walking in cemeteries was a piece of cake what with the street lamps and lights from actual civilization close by. This here was just a big pile of darkness, branches constantly hitting her in the face and stray holes in the uneven ground that kept tripping her up.


Nature was such a joy.


For the hundredth time, Buffy swatted away a low hanging tree limb angrily, grumbling under her breath. Of course, as soon as she stepped forward, her foot entangled in a low bush and she fell face first on the ground.


“Ow,” she said and rolled over on her back.


Spike let out a sigh, no doubt annoyed by her lack of grace that considerably slowed down their progress despite him being the one with more injuries.


When he offered his hand, she ignored it and climbed to her feet on her own. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the gesture. She did, really. Only she was angry and upset by being so clumsy and kind of pissed off that Spike had no problem seeing in the dark at all. One would think the Chosen One would receive the same benefits as the slayees to even out the odds. Guess not.


“What’s your problem, Buffy?”


“I don’t have a problem,” she said stubbornly.


“Listen, do you want to get out of here or not?”


“Of course I do! What, do you think I keep falling on purpose, Mr. ‘I’m a vamp so watch me strut through a dark forest without getting hit in the face every other second’?”


Men were stupid, and so was she for getting so frustrated with herself that she could feel her eyes well up with tears.


Spike gritted his teeth. Watching Buffy fumble to keep her footing had been fun for a while but then it got on his nerves when she wouldn’t ask for help. Naively, he thought she’d stop being so proud. If she wasn’t so determined to do everything by herself, they would both be much better for it.


Spike glanced at her sullen expression, tears gleaming in her eyes, and his heart softened. Without a word, he clasped her hand in his.


She stared down at their entwined fingers.


“Don’t let go, yeah?” he said and slowly resumed their pace, being careful not to go too fast and keep the branches from scratching her skin.


“Okay,” she answered meekly and tightened her grip on him.


Her warmth seeped into his skin, her palm rubbed intimately against his with every step and Spike couldn’t help but feel as though he would never be able to let go.


“Thanks,” she said almost too quietly, but he caught it.


The simple word stirred up so many emotions he had trouble remembering he was just a vampire, not a man with his heart racing hundred times a minute.


“Don’t mention it.”


*******


Three hours later and exactly one hour twenty-five minutes away from sunup, Spike had a feeling they were close to a road. Good thing too because he didn’t fancy dusting after the struggle of getting out of the hellhole of a forest.


“Umm, I should probably have asked this before, but do you have any idea where we’re going?”


“Sure. I heard there is a Big Foot colony just up north. Thought you might like to take a gander.”


Buffy’s jaw dropped open. “This isn’t the time for joking, Spike!”


“Who said I was joking?” he said with a grin.


Buffy stared. “We’re lost, aren’t we?”


Spike rolled his eyes. “No. Have a little faith in me, would you? We’re almost out. I heard a car passing by a minute ago so we gotta be close to the main road.”


“I didn’t hear anything,” she said with a frown, looking around as though she’d see a car whizzing right in front of their noses. Silly bint.


“Last time I checked, you don’t have vampire hearing.”


“You know, this really isn’t fair. It seems to me like the bad guys have all the advantages while all I have is a pointy stick and an expiration date.”


Spike squeezed her hand. “Don’t forget the perky little tits and spankable arse.”


“Spike!”


Oh, he loved it when her cheeks turned red.


“What? It was a compliment.”


“It was pervy,” she complained but he could see the tiniest smile tugging at her lips. Oh yeah, she loved it when he was rude.


Then she pouted. “You think my boobs are small?”


“They’re just perfect, love. Fit right into my hands they do.” He bit his bottom lip and shot her a heated glance. She pretended not to notice but her body couldn’t lie to him. Especially not her heart which was pumping the blood at twice its normal speed.


“Oh. The trees are thinning out!”


Spike shook his head, amused at her blatant change of topic. She was right though. They emerged from the forest fifteen minutes later, more than happy to be rid of bugs and bushes with thorns.


“Yay, more walking,” Buffy said and wrinkled her nose. “My new clothes are ruined again. You know, Spike, Being around you is proving to be hell on my wardrobe.”


“Feel free to fling the stuff away. I won’t mind.” He waggled his eyebrow and eyed her from head to toe.


“Okay, mind in the gutter man, where to now?”


Spike grinned, turned her around and pointed forward.


Buffy’s eyes widened. “No way!”


There it was: the gas station they’d been abducted from, just a few minutes walk away.


“How did you know it was here?”


“Thanks to your head injury. I just followed the scent of your blood, faint as it may be. Like breadcrumbs, but more delicious.”


“Ew. You're like the gross version of Hansel.”


“You’re welcome, Gretel.”


The closer they got, the more evident it became that luck was not on their side. A police officer stood near the stolen car they had planned on reclaiming.


“Crap,” Buffy said.


“My duster is in the bloody car,” Spike whined.


“So is Mr. Donald!”


Spike tugged her forward and they crouched behind a big black SUV, peeking out to observe the situation.


“Okay, I’ve got a plan,” he said.


“Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that.”


“Shut up, Slayer.” He got to his feet, reluctantly letting go off Buffy’s hand. “Wait here. I’ll come and get you.”


Fortunately, at that moment, the policeman tucked his notebook under his armpit and disappeared inside the gas station. No doubt buying doughnuts and coffee, the pillock.


Spike rushed to the car in a flash of vampire speed, snatched his duster and Mr. Donald then suppressed a whoop of joy when he noticed the cop had left the key in the ignition of his motorcycle. With a smirk, Spike hopped on it and started the engine. He saw Buffy’s face turn pale when he stopped next to her.


“Come on, get on.”


“Are you insane?”


“You might save the lecture for later, love. Kinda in a hurry here.”


She sputtered and cursed but straddled the bike and wrapped her arms around his waist, being careful not to lean into his wounded back.


And then they were off, leaving the gas station in a cloud of dust.


*******


“I can’t believe you stole a police vehicle! I can’t go to jail!”


“You won’t go to jail, Buffy.” He came to a halt near a small bridge. “Hop off now. Gotta get rid of the evidence.”


“Oh God.”


Spike pushed the bike to the edge and let if fall into the water with a big satisfying splash, if he did say so himself.


“There should be a motel close by. We’ll make it before the sun is up, I reckon.”


They did, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Buffy ran to phone to call Giles, sitting on the bed that was big enough to fill half the room.


He picked up after the first ring.


“Buffy?”


“How did you know it was me?”


He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank Lord, I’ve been answering the phone like this for the past two days. Where have you been? Are you alright?”


“I’m alive and the Amazons are done with. Mission complete. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for my wardrobe.” She poked the dirty hem of her T-shirt.


“Ah, yes. I’m sorry to hear it. Regardless to the casualties to your wardrobe, are you sure you’re quite alright?”


“Yes, Giles. I swear. I mean, my feet could use a good masseuse so once I get home, you can totally pay for one,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.


“We’ll figure something out. Tell me where you are and I’ll come fetch you.”


“Oh, that’s okay. We’ll get there.”


Silence.


“We?”


Oops. “Umm… me… as in me will get there.” She cringed. “You know me and my wacky grammar. Can’t speak English to save my life. Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.”


“Buff-”


She slammed the phone down.


Spike chuckled. “Smooth, Slayer.”


“It slipped out!”


“No worries, it’s not like he’d ever suspect you were on a road trip with me.”


“You’re right. But I bet he’s throwing a massive wig right now.”


Spike tilted his head. “You really can’t speak English, can you?”


She glared at him.


*******


Buffy came out of the shower, feeling decisively better now that she had slipped out of the dirty clothes. At least this motel was fairly decent and had nice fluffy bathrobes. She found Spike with a scowl on his face as he struggled to take off his T-shirt, which was filthy with dried blood and dirt, sticking to his skin.


“Could you help me with it? Bloody thing won’t come off.”


“Why should I?“


He offered her a charming smile that did not work on her at all. “Because you’re a lovely bird that always helps those in need?”


She pursed her lips in mock annoyance and approached him. “I expect a favour in return.”


“Whatever you want.” He gazed at her with challenge in his eyes.


Pulling the T-shirt off proved to be a difficult process and Buffy winced every time Spike’s muscles jerked as she peeled the fabric away from the slashes on his back. The blood had dried and with every pull, she aggravated the wound, making it bleed again.


“We’ll need to clean the blood off.”


“Yeah, taking a shower would sting like hell.” Spike let out a relieved breath when she finally dropped the tatters of his T-shirt to the floor. “Should I lie down?”


“Sounds good to me.”


“Naughty.”


She slapped him on the shoulder and went to bathroom to wet two fluffy towels in warm water.


“Okay, let’s get to business now,” she said when she came back.


“I would have liked a little foreplay first but if this is what you want,” he said, his hands making quick work of his belt buckle before sliding it out of the loops and dropping it to the floor.


Buffy slapped her free hand over her eyes, not peeking at all. Nope, Sir. Not even when he popped the top button open, making the jeans slip low on his narrow hips.


“What are you doing?”


“Getting to business.” He pressed the tip of his tongue against his front teeth, grinning and cocking his scarred eyebrow. One of his sexy mannerisms, she could take. But three of them at the same time? She was doomed.


“W-well, that’s not what I meant!”


And, oh no, he was coming closer now. Damn it where was her breath when she needed it?


“Isn’t it?”


His hand caressed her collarbone, his fingers sliding down to rest on her chest and stopping just millimeters shy of sliding within her robe to cup her breast. And hey, since when was Spike shy?


Not that she wanted him to cup her breast. Not again anyway. And who was she kidding?


“N-no?”


“Are you asking me?”


Did he honestly expect her to answer? He clasped the hand covering her eyes and made her drop the charade when he lowered it to her side.


“It’s just… pants on are a good thing. The best, really,” she said, not sure if she sounded convincing enough.


“The jeans are bloody. Wouldn’t want to get the bed even more dirty, would I?” he said, voice pitched low, making her shiver. “Not anymore than we’re going to make it, anyway.”


And how in the world did he manage to twist her cleaning blood off his back into an assumed sex romp that would leave the bed in disarray?


Then the sound of his zipper being lowered reverberated through the silent room and she gulped.


Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t…oh, holy crap! How the hell did he fit that thing into those tight jeans?


Her eyes snapped up to meet his amused ones and she couldn’t help but whimper when he winked, stepped out of the jeans, turned around and swaggered butt naked to the bed. She was still trying to get her brain to work again when he stretched on the mattress, his tight ass displayed for all to see as though he did this every day. As though being naked in the presence of his mortal enemy-- that wasn’t really an enemy anymore-- didn’t faze him at all. Well, she was all with the fazage, and she was so not used to getting to ogle a pair of absolutely perfect pair of buns that she really wanted to pinch right now.


Oh God, he’d totally turned her into a pervert!


“Coming anytime soon, kitten? I‘m getting lonely here.”


“Uh… umm… I’m…” Can I squeeze your ass, please? Jesus, shut up hormones! “I’m c-coming.”


“Not yet you aren’t,” he mumbled hotly against the pillow and leveled her with a gaze that made her weak at the knees.


I’m doomed.


TBC

 

A/N: Hmm... what would you do if Spike dropped his trousers in front of you? Just a scientific inquiry. ;)

 

 
Chapter sixteen
 
A/N: Uni is kicking my ass, hence the later-than-usual update. My brain feels like a wrung out sponge. *SIGH*

Lovely betas: All4Spike and BloodyHell.

 

Chapter 16


Buffy’s fingers twitched around the towels that would soon be caressing the smooth expanse of Spike’s back. The fact his skin was covered in slashes should be enough to divert her thoughts to a less lusty variety and away from those eyes and lips and the… other stuff. The stuff she most certainly hadn’t even glimpsed.


“Come on, pet. I won’t bite.”


She hated the cute little nicknames he used. She really did. Especially because they made her stomach flutter like mad.


Only when she was few inches away from the mattress did her brain finally catch up on the room’s furnishings. Or lack of them, in this case.


“Spike?”


“Yeah?” he purred into the pillow.


“Why is there only one bed in this room?”


He gazed at her, all apologetic smile and sincere gaze. Like it would keep her from getting pissed? He wished, the sneaky vampire.


“I only have so much cash on me and we’ll need it to get to Sunnyhell, won’t we? Especially since you won’t let me steal. This room came cheaper. That’s it. No ulterior motive.”


“B-but… one bed!” Her cheeks turned red at the mere thought of sleeping in the same bed as Spike. Separated by nothing but the sheer will of distancing herself from his glorious nakedness and magnetic lips.


“What? Worried you won’t be able to keep your mitts to yourself?”


That was outrageous. And completely true if she was being honest with herself. Just that knowledge alone, and the thought of Spike finding out just how inept she was when it came to matters of sex, scared her witless.


He would laugh. And that would hurt more than anything.


“You know what? You can take care of your back yourself!” She was about to storm off and sulk about his ability to make her uncomfortable when he rolled onto his side and grasped her wrist.


“Wait, Buffy. I didn’t mean to upset you. You know my mouth has tendency to run ahead of my brain.” He let her go when she stopped struggling to get away and looked at her earnestly. “This bed is big enough for both of us and I’ll keep to my side. But if you really want me to, I’ll sleep on the floor.”


How could she act all bratty if he was suddenly the voice of reason and gentlemanly behaviour? Her shoulders slumped.


“No. It’s fine. Sorry I spazzed out. It’s been a long day.”


“That it has.” He fell back on his belly, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. “Will you do my back, please? I’ll massage your feet later. Quid pro quo and all that.”


She had no idea what that last sentence meant but a foot massage sounded heavenly.


“Deal… I guess.”


Spike chuckled and closed his eyes as she climbed on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.


She then proceeded to gently clean the skin around the slashes with the damp towel. It was difficult to reach over to clean the dried trickled blood on the other side of his ribs without toppling on top of him so Buffy did the most practical thing she could think of.


She straddled his thighs.


“Is this okay?”


“Yeah,” he drawled in a low, content voice.


Her hands hovered just above his bare buttocks and she had to swallow down the urge to squeeze the tight muscles. Instead she pressed the towel against his back and resumed the task that was less grope-y Buffy.


Still, she couldn’t help but brush the velvet of his skin with her fingertips every now and then.


“I’m not hurting you, am I?”


“No, love. You’d make a mighty good nurse. All you need is a tight little uniform.”


She smiled despite herself. “Pig.”


“Always,” he replied with a grin.


Buffy had to admit that sitting astride Spike was quite a comfortable place to be. After she cleaned the blood off, she was reluctant to leave her position so she idly traced his skin with the second towel. Just because it was clean, and it would be better to be sure there were no blood traces left. That was all.


Spike groaned and slightly wriggled under her, which she took as a sign of impatience. Now she felt guilty for prolonging the moment.


“I’m done. You’re all squeaky clean now.”


Spike said something, but his voice was muffled by the pillow. Considering he probably said something inappropriate that would make her flee to the bathroom with her cheeks flaming, she was better off not knowing.


She tossed the towels to the floor then pressed her hands in the dip of his lower back to keep her balance as she rose to her knees. And if the heels of her hands grazed the top of his buttocks? Well, that was just a coincidence. Nothing more.


With a sigh, Buffy fell on the mattress next to him. “You owe me a massage.”


Spike turned his face to look at her with heavy lidded eyes. “Just give me a sec here and I’ll be right at your disposal.”


Oh boy did she like that idea. A lot.


She pouted. “But I want it now.”


Spike squeezed his eyes shut for second to seemingly regain control. Of what, she wasn’t sure.


“You’re making it very hard for me. Literally.”


“Huh?”


A brief chuckle whooshed past his lips as he levelled her with a gaze that left her squirming.


“Buffy, you just had your hot little hands all over my body, bloody straddling me no less. A man can’t help but react.”


Oh.


Oh!


“W-well… I didn’t mean to! And it’s not like I actually touched you anywhere… you know… exciting.”


Spike smirked. “Gonna grab me a robe. You better close those peepers of yours unless you want to get an eyeful.”


So what? Maybe she did. She was eighteen and curiosity was an unfortunate side effect of her hormones. And she had never seen an excited man up close and personal.


Still when Spike rose, she let out a cowardly squeak and closed her eyes. Not before she caught the barest of glimpses though. The sight was so totally unimpressive she wanted to yawn. Or so she told herself as she tried to slow down her breath and pressed her heated cheeks against the cool sheets in order to calm down.


Does he have a license for that thing?


She jerked slightly when she felt the mattress depress few moments later.


“Now about that massage,” Spike said teasingly.


Buffy opened her eyes to see Spike wear a robe identical to her own plus a wicked grin on his face. Obviously, he felt very smug about his ability to fluster her. She’d show him flustered!


Not exactly confident in her feminine wiles, Buffy tried it on for size as she rolled on her back. Arching her back to stick her breasts out, she stretched her arms above her head and lifted one dainty foot before resting it on Spike’s thigh. From the glazed look on his face, it seemed as though she wasn’t completely useless.


He shook himself out of his stupor and slowly caressed her ankle. As soon as his fingertips brushed her skin, she drew in a sharp breath. Now she wasn’t so sure who would be teasing whom and if she wouldn’t be the one to end up utterly frustrated.


With professional intent, Spike skillfully wrapped his fingers around her foot and massaged out the ache. Being ticklish, she half expected to burst out laughing as soon as he touched her but found herself melting under his ministrations instead. She could feel the stress of walking for hours slipping away with every stroke.


Her eyes never left his face and she could feel a strange kind of intensity building around them as he returned her gaze. He switched her foot for the other, repeating the same motions that left her mellow and sighing in contented bliss.


“How come you’re so good at this?” she whispered, unwilling to break the spell around them.


Spike shrugged. “Not many things I’m not good at.”


“Cocky.”


“Experienced,” he countered and pressed some spot that shot electricity right into her core.


She bit her lip, letting the feelings wash over her.


Spike’s fingers unhurriedly shifted higher as he kneaded her calf, his knuckles grazing the back of her knee. Good thing she had the sense to shave her legs in the shower.


He looked at her, asking for permission. “Is this fine?”


She nodded, unsure if her voice would work at the moment.


Spike dropped his gaze but she could feel his eyes burn with desire as he caressed her skin almost lovingly. She would never have thought him to be capable of such tenderness. Not before. But the way he touched her, seemingly taking as much pleasure in it as she did, she couldn’t help but admit that nobody had ever made her feel so cherished. Cherished and incredibly turned on.


As she did a little hip shimmy to alleviate the tension, she was past caring that her robe had slipped down her thighs and she was without a doubt flashing Spike her panties.


His nostrils flared as he shifted his attention to her other leg.


Buffy moaned at his ministrations, succumbing to the mix of relaxation and arousal his capable hands had stirred up. Her fingers clenched and unclenched around the sheets when his massaging turned into caressing. She wanted him. Craved him. So when his hands spread her legs enough for him to settle between them, she didn’t object.


Instead she let him stroke her outer thighs and tightened her legs around his waist to pull him closer. Spike needed no further invitation and his eyes rolled up in their sockets when she pulled him down and ground her pelvis into his. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from her own, a whisper of his cool breath tickling her skin.


That was when someone knocked on the door.


Buffy’s eyes widened and she quickly released him and wriggled from under him. “Who is it?”


Spike stared at the door uncomprehendingly for a moment before he regained his senses. Oh yeah, now he remembered. Being the wanker that he was, he had ordered some Chinese.


“I ordered food while you were in the shower.”


Reluctantly, Spike climbed off the bed, grabbed a few bills and went to open the door. He could kick himself now, and especially the delivery boy who was standing there with a bored but polite look on his face as they exchanged the goods.


But the time Spike closed the door and turned on his heel, Buffy was sitting up and tugging the robe to cover her thighs. Apparently, whatever spell had woven around them had been broken and now she once again clung to her silly morals.


Bloody hell, all he wanted to do was dive right on top of her and taste her skin from head to toe, stopping in between to drink her in. She probably wouldn’t appreciate it.


“Oh, I love Chinese!” She grabbed the bag from his hands and pilfered through he contents with child like glee. “Thanks.”


Well, he could suffer a case of blue balls as long as Buffy was happy. Which she was, considering the smile on her face as she wolfed down the kung pao chicken.


“Mmm… Yummy.” She glanced up at him guiltily and offered him the box. “You want some?”


Spike sat on the bed opposite her and smiled. “You eat it. I’ll get some spring rolls.”


She wrinkled her nose and continued eating.


He’d have thought the whole thing had been conjured by his sleep deprived mind if it weren’t for Buffy’s red tinged cheeks and the smell of her arousal still lingering in the air.


His mouth watered and he shot her a heated glance before he bit into the roll, his tongue flicking out to lick a crumb off his upper lip.


Buffy let out a quiet whimper.


TBC
 

A/N: Be kind to me and review? Scientists said it lessens (my) stress level. ;)

 

 
Chapter seventeen
 
A/N: I have been nominated at the SunnyD awards!!! :D Whoever did it, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'd love to snog your face off right now.

Previously: Buffy played a nurse to Spike though he wished she was wearing a naughty uniform. Then Chinese delivery man interrupted possible coitus. Foiled again!

All4Spike and BloodyHell beta'd this because they're that awesome.

Chapter 17


After they finished eating—Spike once again having witnessed the astounding amount of food Buffy was capable of consuming—he had washed his and Buffy’s clothes the old fashioned way. In the sink.


Of course she had washed the unmentionables by herself first before leaving to go to bed.


Like he’d steal her knickers? Who did she think he was? Yeah, okay, the thought might have briefly flashed through his mind but he wouldn’t do that.


Probably.


The sun had already come up but thick curtains shielding the only window in the room kept it shrouded in darkness. The television was on, casting a flickering bluish hue to the room as he hung his jeans over the chair to let them dry after he finally managed to get the mud off. Buffy seemed to have fallen asleep, looking small and incredibly adorable curled in the middle of the huge mattress.


He tiptoed over to the bed, hesitating with his fingers on the sash of his robe. She’d have a cow when she found out he’d slept naked within touching distance. Then again, he couldn’t bloody well sleep in it and actually find any rest.


Decision made, Spike untied the robe and let it fall to the floor before climbing on the bed and under the duvet. With a relieved sigh, he rolled onto his front and let his head drop on a fluffy pillow. Buffy was turned towards him, her heartbeat steady as she tucked her hands under her chin.


A line appeared between her brows when a strand of hair fell into her face, tickling her nose. Without any thought, Spike reached out and brushed it away, his fingertips tracing the soft curve of her cheek.


She was gorgeous and he felt a strong urge to lean in and kiss her. Instead he pulled away and reached over to grab the remote in order to turn the television off. He closed his eyes, letting Buffy’s heartbeat lull him to sleep.


*******


Buffy woke up dazedly, feeling something unusual was going on. She almost jumped when her still sleepy brain processed she was draped over Spike like some slutty Slayer blanket. Of course Spike was respectfully keeping to his side, while she—being the pervert she was—had been all over him while they slept.


Untangling herself from him without waking him in the process proved to be quite a challenge. But hey, she was nothing if not resourceful, right?


Every time she moved a muscle, Spike reacted in a subconscious manner. There was nothing dead about him. The constant spark of life and barely restrained energy apparently carried with him into slumber as well. Always restless, that was him. Smacking his lips, mumbling under his breath and worst of all, turning on his side to hug her to his chest. This was so very wrong. But the worst thing? She kind of liked it. Not to mention Spike smelled really, really good. Definitely yummy enough for her to postpone the escape plan for just a bit longer.


I’m just regrouping here.


Buffy leaned slightly away, just enough to be able to look into his face. After all, it wasn’t every day she could have her fill of ogling Spike without him catching her red-handed, so to speak. And there was lots and lots of stuff to ogle.


His lids flickered every now and then as he dreamt- probably of mayhem. Dark thick lashes rested against his pale skin in stark contrast, lending him something she could only dub as vulnerability. One word she’d never have thought to associate with the bane of her existence. But here they were, their respective sheets twisted around their entangled legs, Spike’s arm resting loosely on her waist. Like they were lovers who couldn’t find repose without the shared warmth and skin touching skin. The thought was equally thrilling as it was terrifying.


But there was nothing scary about the Spike she saw right in front of her eyes. His pouting lips were relaxed rather than smirking, an occasional breath whispering past. And that curly hair he acquired by rolling around in his sleep? Major cuteness alert. Not that she’d tell him that. But since he was all in the land of unconscious, Buffy took a deep breath and reached out to do something she’d been longing to for a while now.


She ran her fingers gently through his hair. And oh, it was soft. Softer that she’d imagined, considering how much gel he used to tame it on a daily basis.


At that, a purr rumbled deep through his chest and sent tremors of desire tumbling through her veins. Still asleep, he pulled her close and bumped his nose against hers, whispering her name.


Well, at least she knew it wasn’t the goth skank he’d been dreaming about.


And shouldn’t she be more freaked out about this entire scenario? His tasty lips didn’t change the fact he was still a vampire. One without a soul who had threatened to kill her on numerous occasions though it never really panned out well for him. One who reveled in being true to his nature.


But then he mumbled something else and he might as well have screamed it into her ear for the effect it had on her.


“Love you.”


He nuzzled against her cheek, still blissfully unaware her entire world had just tilted off its axis. Her entire body screamed at her to stand up and run as fast as her feet would allow. To escape while she could because this could never end well. How could she have been so reckless? And why did she have to catch a glimpse of the man crouching behind the protective front of the Big Bad?


She’d never meant to see his human heart. Never meant for it to touch hers in a way she refused to understand


As quietly as she could, she crawled out of his arms and off the bed. For a moment, she stood there, the room spinning around her so fast she felt her legs wobble.


Love?


He couldn’t… Why would he?


She was everything he was supposed to abhor.


It was just a dream. He didn’t mean it. If he were awake, he’d never have said it. He just… wasn’t aware.


She watched as a crease appeared between his brows before he buried his face in the pillow where her head had rested just a few seconds ago.


The question that slowly surfaced in her mind in the next second left her so utterly confused she didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.


Did she want him to love her?


*******


Needing to clear her head and get away from the temptation spread across the bed for her to nibble on, Buffy had gone to scour about the small town while it was still light out. She felt vaguely guilty for using some of the money Spike had stolen at the hospital and kept in the front pocket of his jeans. Then again, they needed stuff. Luckily, she’d found a tiny mall and finally bought both of them some spare clothes that hopefully wouldn’t be ruined anytime soon.


Now she and Spike were sitting in a small diner and she had successfully pushed the strange confession into the back of her mind. She wasn’t thinking of it at all. Nope. Not even as she stared at Spike searching the menu with the tip of his tongue wedged in the corner of his mouth. And in no way, shape or form, was she imagining him saying those words to her out loud with a crumpled box of Belgian chocolates in his hand.


“You alright?” Spike asked.


Buffy had been acting weird ever since she’d come back to the room. And for a fact he knew it wasn’t his fault. At least he thought so. Maybe she’d gotten a gander at his manly bits and now she was all skittish about it? Not that she hadn’t seen it before. Maybe she’d sneaked a peek, the naughty minx.


Spike opened his mouth to tease her when a waitress approached the table. Spike cringed at the sight of a washed out middle age woman. Her fake eyelashes were so big blinking must have been an effort and unevenly applied layers of blue eye shadow could only be explained by lack of steady hands. Or mirrors.


“So what can I get you, kids?”


“Pancakes with maple syrup and orange juice,” Buffy said.


“Do you have those flower onion thingies?” Spike asked, wriggling his fingers.


A long blink. “No.”


“Bugger. Something spicy then.”


The waitress with a nametag ‘Sally’ rattled off at least six spicy dishes, looking at him expectantly.


“Uh… the second one.” Not he could remember what it was but he figured it all tasted the same.


“Do you want potato wedges, rice, fr-”


“Surprise me,” he interrupted, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. “And bring me coffee.”


She opened her mouth, but he clarified before she could ask him if wanted a bloody cappuccino.


“Black, that’s it.”


She trudged away and Spike turned his attention to Buffy. “So what’s got your knickers in a twist?”


Her eyes widened, colour draining from her cheeks. “Nothing! No… knickers twisting”


Spike bit his lips and slid closer to her on the vinyl red bench seat.


“Is that right, love?”


“Buffy! My name is… Buffy.”


Spike cocked his eyebrow. “Really? Thanks for enlightening me.”


She snatched a paper napkin from the table, tearing it to tiny bits and avoiding his eyes.


“Come on now. What’s this all about then? You can tell me.”


She shook her head, shoulders slumping. “Just had a wacky dream, that’s all. Still feeling kinda spacey, I guess.”


“Hmm… would that dream involve getting frisky with yours truly?”


The corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “Frisky? Do people even say that anymore.”


“Trying to change the topic, are you?” Spike shifted even closer, earning him a suspicious look from Buffy.


“Nope. But there wasn’t anything… frisky going on.”


“And I here I thought you were being all skittish because you played peek-a-boo with my goodies.”


“You were naked?” she asked in a shrill voice that left his left ear ringing.


“Yeah. You didn’t notice?”


“Not exactly. You were all covered up down there.”


And there it was, the blush he loved putting on her cheeks so much.


He smiled. “Well then, for future reference, I always sleep naked so feel free to let your hot little hands wander around under the sheets. I won’t mind.”


“Spike!” She glanced around as though her Watcher was leaning over her shoulder, able to hear their conversation. Then she whispered, “There will be no wandering hands!”


He graced her with a wicked glint in his eyes, letting his fingers slowly trail the worn out leather of their seat before they landed on Buffy’s knee. And did she put that mini skirt on just for him?


“You mean like this?”


She shook her leg but he just chuckled and caressed her inner thigh higher and higher until his knuckles brushed against her knickers. Buffy jumped in her seat, slamming her knee against the low table.


“Ow.” She slapped his hand and he reluctantly retreated, satisfied with the fast excited beat of her heart.


“Not here!”


“Oh, you mean I can put my hands all over you when we’re back at the motel room?”


“No, that’s not wha-”


“Sure it’s not.” He grinned and put on his best innocent face when the waitress came back with their orders.


Buffy immediately stuffed her mouth full of pancakes so she wouldn’t have to talk and try to explain her Freudian slip. And the blond pest looked like he was aware of it as he winked at her, dipped his finger in the hot sauce then sucked it into his mouth with a moan.


She almost choked on her pancakes.


Only then did she notice Spike had just dumped several heaped spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee and drank half of it before she could say a word.


Spike plus caffeine plus sugar?


Her eyes widened.


This would not end well.


TBC

 

 
Chapter eightteen
 
A/N: Thank you everyone sticking with this story... each of you is a tremendous dish. ;)

Thank you All4Spike and BloodyHell for swift betaing!
 

Chapter 18


Buffy was mortified. The sugar infested coffee Spike had gulped down like it was a glass of water seemed to have a strange, very unpredictable effect on his behaviour. His pupils were slightly dilated and a permanent grin that bordered on maniacal was fixed on his face.


But that wasn’t the worst. Spike had tipped over the salt shaker until it all spilled on the table and he now used it as a canvas for drawing crude images with his index finger. What it depicted, she didn’t even want to contemplate.


She kicked him on the shin.


“Keep those feet to yourself, pet.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Unless you want me to bite them off.”


She banged her head against the table but the reprieve didn’t last long and soon Spike was shaking her shoulder, giggling.


“What!”


“Look.”


She did and rolled her eyes. “You can’t draw boobs in a public restaurant.”


“But they’re your boobs,” Spike said, jutting out his lower lip.


“My nipples are not lopsided.” She glanced down at her chest with a frown.


“Mmm, maybe you should let me have a look then, yeah? For accuracy and all.”


He stared at her breasts with dazed eyes.


“No way, Mister. Now let me finish my pancakes in peace so we can get out and never come here again because I‘m sure they’re about to kick us out.”


Spike bounced his knee up and down rapidly, making the whole seat vibrate. Just as she was about to put the fork in her mouth, Spike grasped her wrist and tugged it in his direction. His eyes closed for a second as he wrapped his lips around the fork to suck the bit of pancake into his mouth with a groan of enjoyment.


“Hey, that was mine,” she protested though it came out a lot breathier and far less threatening that she’d planned.


“Yummy.” He licked his lips and pinned her with a lustful gaze. “Though not as sweet as your pussy is, I bet.”


“Ugh…”


Who knew dirty talk could be a turn on?


She might have squeaked out something barely resembling human speech before finishing her pancake in a hurry.


“Let’s ditch this place,” Spike said with a suggestive grin.


“Well, go pay first.”


“What if I don’t want to?” He tapped his chin with his forefinger, pretending to mull it over. “Yeah, I’m not gonna.”


He made a move to dash but she was faster and clasped her fingers around his wrist, yanking him back to the seat. “If you leave I swear I’m gonna find you and… do something. Something painful and humiliating.”


Spike lifted a brow. “Strikes fear right into my unbeating heart. But I’ll bite… figuratively. Pay then, love.”


“But you have the money.”


“I do, don’t I?”


She pouted. “Spike…”


He relaxed into his seat with mischief twinkling in his oh so blue eyes, his legs splayed. “It’s in my front pocket.”


Her eyes darted to the pocket in question. “So? Take it out.”


“Nope. If you want to pay, you take it out.” A grin.


The sneaky bastard. Like she’d be embarrassed to put her hands near his… his… stuff? She’d show him!


She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, glancing around to check if anyone was watching. Then with a nod of determination she delved her hand into the front pocket of his jeans. They were snug. Very, very snug. She fumbled around until she found a thick wad of bills, single-mindedly ignoring anything else her questing fingers might have come in contact with.


Spike growled and shot her a look that threatened to melt her right into the cheap vinyl seat.


Finally, she drew out her hand and counted out the bills to pay for their dinner before putting the rest into the front pocket of her skirt. As she stood up and walked out of the restaurant she could feel Spike hot on her heels. In fact, Spike’s presence was definitely making itself known when he entwined his fingers with hers and tugged her against him.


“Spike, what are yo-”


She really wanted to finish that sentence. And she would have if he hadn’t pressed her up against a random car in the parking lot, his mouth swallowing any resistance she might have offered.


Her arms fell to her sides as she sighed into his mouth. As though his lips devouring hers were that one thing missing in her life and as soon as they made contact again, all the doubts evaporated. It was just her and him and the incredibly taste of sugar and Spike.


His tongue twisted around hers, his hands always touching and sending sparks of electricity across her skin. Her need to touch him became irresistible and her own hands sprung into action, roaming the expanse of his back. It was hard to breathe as her heart picked up in speed, making her blood race through her veins. But oxygen didn’t matter. Not when he commanded her every sense with expert brushes of his fingers against her bare thighs. Not when he sampled her lips with a groan of enjoyment that made her shiver. Nobody but Spike had the capacity to render her utterly speechless and completely willing to let him have her in the middle of a parking lot.


He wedged his thigh between her legs, rubbing against her and quite frankly driving her out of her mind with the rising tension. Any last barriers fell down with a thunderous crash and her fingers traced the dip of his lower back until she was squeezing the tight muscles of his ass.


The kiss deepened until Buffy thought they were going to eat each other alive, their tongues clashing in a silent war for dominance as they clutched at each other with barely restrained desperation. He pulled away long enough for her to draw in a breath, tearing his lips down her throat, one of his hands sliding up to cup her breast.


“Been wanting to do this all day,” he rasped and before she could make her brain work enough to come up with a fumbled reply, their lips were joined again, her every nerve ending raw and sensitive to his ministrations.


She nipped at his swollen lips, urging him to rock against her faster. Spike complied, his other hand sneaking under her skirt to caress her bottom. And now she knew for sure Spike was evil because the way he teased the edges of her panties almost had her jumping out of her skin with the need to feel him everywhere. Fire was licking her skin now and she whimpered into his mouth, moving against him with arched back, pushing into his capable hands that were driving her closer and closer towards the edge.


“Ehm… ehm… excuse me!” a man called from behind Spike, the voice penetrating Buffy’s lust-addled mind.


She pushed Spike off, mortification making blood rush to her cheeks. Spike didn’t seem to get the memo, his lips still puckered as he made a move to dive in for another kiss.


“Spike… stop it,” she said and held him off with outstretched arms.


The middle aged man who had interrupted the happy ending Buffy was about to indulge in frowned at them in disapproval.


“That’s my car,” the man said, irritation clear in his voice.


It was that moment Spike chose to make his presence known. “Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something here, mate?”


The man’s jaw dropped and sputtered something unintelligible in response. By then all Buffy wanted to do was dig a nice big hole in the ground and crawl into it until she stopped feeling like a skank caught with her hand in a cookie jar. Or squeezing Spike’s butt as the case may have been.


“I’m sorry. W-we’re going. Right, Spike?”


Not waiting for his response, she seized him by the T-shirt—definitely not noticing the firm muscles beneath—and dragged him away, her legs still wobbly.


She made it to the edge of the lot when Spike banded his arms around her waist and growled. Her knees almost buckled as his body molded against her back, making her heart gallop once again. This was utterly insane. This unexplainable need she felt for him. For his touch. His taste. All of him.


“Buffy,” he whispered her name in a husky voice, his hold loosening as his hands slid up to cup her breasts.


She wriggled in a half-hearted effort to shake him off. “We can’t.”


“Why not? I can smell how hot you are. Almost came back there, didn’t you?” He pinched her nipples, making her gasp and quiver. “Want you so much, Buffy. Can you feel it?”


Oh boy, could she ever. The way he pressed against her behind and kept touching her in no way made it easy for her to think. There was a reason they shouldn’t be getting so close. She had it on the tip of her tongue. Only Spike’s taste seemed to have chased it away with a triumphant middle finger to prove its victory.


Reason didn’t stand a chance.


Spike’s whole body practically vibrated with repressed energy. Probably the influence of the sugar high that had made him overly affectionate and incredibly hyper. She should never have let him order that coffee in the first place.


“We c-can’t… because… we should be on our way! Before the s-sun comes up.”


“We still have our stuff back at the motel. Wouldn’t want to abandon Mr. Donald now, would you?”


He brushed her hair to the side and nibbled on the shell of her ear, his wicked tongue playing with the piercings. How did he know it was her weakness?


“But we only… to get the stuff.” Did that even make sense? God, what was he doing to her?


They somehow managed to stumble down two blocks to the motel, Spike constantly stopping to steal kisses that rendered her almost unable to walk, not to mention think rationally.


After what seemed like ages they finally made it to the motel room, Buffy fumbling with the key and trying to fit it into the lock while Spike slid his hand under her top and caressed his way up her torso. When he reached her breast and squeezed slightly, she dropped the keys.


With an impatient growl, Spike gripped the doorknob with his free hand and broke it off. She opened her mouth to protest but she found herself pushed against the door, slamming it closed behind them as Spike’s lips covered hers.


Too weak to deny him, she wound her arms around his waist to pull him closer. She could feel his body moving against hers, her heartbeat frantically beating against his still chest. But that way okay, her heart could beat fast enough for both of them.


Spike tilted his head to the side, kissing her long and deep until she forgot her own name. All she needed was him. Suddenly touching him seemed the most important thing in the world and she pulled the T-shirt from his jeans, her fingers tentatively slipping under the material to caress his trembling stomach.


He sighed into her mouth before nibbling on her lower lip.


“Spike… please,” she whispered between kisses, unsure of what she was pleading for but knowing she was going to burn up if he didn’t quell the fire.


He slowed down the kiss, his hands softly tracing her curves until he reached her bare thighs. Shivers erupted on her flesh when he stroked the place her legs met her ass, his fingertips dangerously close to the place she needed him the most.


“Gonna make you feel so good,” he murmured against her lips then kissed a hot trail along her jaw before sucking on her neck in just the right spot to make her gasp. Her leg automatically hooked around his hip.


Spike’s left hand wandered to the front, his touch tickling her inner thigh before he slid upwards and brushed her panties aside. Harsh breaths filled the silence of the room. Then he caressed her, his expert fingers slipping over her flesh with ease that made her throw her head back against the door.


Her hand flew to clutch at his forearm and she didn’t know whether it was to stop him or to keep him from doing just that. He made the decision for her and she feared she wouldn’t be able to stand anymore when he slid two of his fingers inside. It was a tight fit and she bit her bottom lip before locking her eyes with his. What she saw there made her tremble.


Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Like she was a piece of chocolate fudge cake he couldn’t wait to take a bite out of. Like her every moan and whimper as he slowly pumped his fingers nearly drove him out of his mind with lust. He leaned in and kissed her desperately, sucking at her tongue in tandem with his thrusts.


Her knees trembled and if it wasn’t for him holding her up she would have crumpled to the floor. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades when the heel oh his hand pressed against her clit and he crooked his fingers inside her to hit something really interesting.


“Oh God, Spike!” She rocked her hips in time with his movements, his growl against her cheek pushing her higher and higher until she thought she’d pass out from the sensual overload.


“So beautiful,” he whispered roughly.


Then he swapped long and deep thrusts for settling on that one spot inside her that made the breath catch in her throat when he massaged it rapidly. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her toes curl as the tide started to crest. She just needed one… little… push. Spike bit on her neck with blunt teeth and she flew off the edge, falling and falling, blackness tinting the edge of her vision with the force of her release.


Spike slowed down his movements, drawing out her pleasure, guiding her down from the high until she slumped against him. He drew out his fingers, the friction making her spasm in an aftershock and she watched with wide eyes as he sucked them into his mouth with a groan that could only be identified as the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.


Their gazes locked, tension between them so thick she could hack it with an axe. Someone banged on the door, making her jump.


“If you want to stay another day, you’re gonna have to pay up! And I’m charging you for the broken lock!” came a grumpy voice through the wooden door.


Oh, come on! Spike thought desperately, resigning himself to another case of blue balls.


TBC

 

A/N: Yay for blue balls?!

 
Chapter nineteen
 
A/N: In case anyone is interested, I set up a blog very recently. There's just one entry so far but IT'S THE FUNNIEST THING YOU'LL EVER READ!!! Just kidding, but some of you might like it if you share my weird sense of humour. ;) Apparently, if I get enough views and people comment and stuff, I could be earning money with it. No need to say more. *g*

And now to the thing that actually does interest you... previously: Spike went on a  sugar high and he and Buffy had some pretty good times. Buffy got hers but Spike was left with blue testicles. And now, are they finally going to have 'the' talk??

Awesome ladies All4Spike and BloodyHell beta'd this.


Chapter 19


Spike’s jaw clenched and he cursed under his breath. Immediately he could sense Buffy withdraw as the outside world intruded on their private moment.


He reluctantly let go of her, torn between feeling sexually frustrated like never before and feeling hurt for the way she avoided his gaze and folded her arms over her chest in an obvious show of keeping her distance. Didn’t he make her feel good? He knew he did. So why was she turning away from him like she hadn’t come apart under his hands, like she hadn’t breathed his name with such urgency it had made him quiver?


“Buffy…”


“Can we not talk about this right now?” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the beige motel carpet.


The muscles in his jaw ticked. “So that’s it? You got what you wanted and now you go back to denying anything ever happened?”


“Sp-”


He threw his arms into the air, frustrated and hurt beyond measure. Why was he so bloody stupid to always long for something he could never have?


“That’s just fucking grand, isn’t it? You know, I wish I was as cold hearted as you are because you have obviously no problem rubbing against me like a bitch in heat and then turning into an ice queen in a few seconds flat!” He clenched his fists, clinging to the anger with everything he was.


When she finally lifted her gaze, his anger wavered and crumbled to dust upon the sight of her eyes welling with tears.


“So that’s what you really think of me,” she whispered, smiling bitterly. “You know, I thought you were… Never mind.”


Spike stood there with his feet rooted to the floor as he watched her push past him and heard the bathroom lock click after she closed the door behind her. What the hell just happened? One moment he was buried fingers deep in her warmth and tasting the silk of her skin and the next the fragile connection slipped out of his grasp and shattered, leaving him standing in the wreckage of words he hadn’t even meant.


He trudged over to the bed and sat down heavily, rubbing his chest. Even that didn’t ease the painful pressure squeezing his heart and he didn’t know what to do to make it better. Because as much as he would have liked lying to himself, he was never much for false pretenses. That little slip of a girl was so much more than just an object of lust or rebound from Drusilla. She was… Buffy. Everything he was supposed to despise but secretly craved.


And now he’d hurt her and the feeling of remorse pressed down so hard he thought he wouldn’t be able to draw in a breath he didn’t even need. All because he couldn’t handle being rejected and having the most incredible moment in his existence thrown in his face as something to be regretted.


Wanker.


Silently, he stood up and approached the door, pressing his forehead against it as he listened in on the sound of water flowing from the tap.


*******


She should have known it would end like this. That Spike would open his stupid big mouth once again and say something to hit her where it hurt the most.


Buffy splashed cool water on her face, trying to get her rampant emotions and thoughts under control. If he hadn’t been such a bonehead he might have realised she wasn’t about to pretend the make-out session had never happened. God, didn’t he see how confused she was? It was all too much. The way he made her burn and lose control was unlike anything she’d ever felt.


It terrified her.


That in a mere week, she came to trust him more than she’d ever trusted Angel. That Spike had made her laugh and treated her more like an equal and a woman that anyone else ever had. Not even repeating to herself that he had no soul quelled the butterflies in her stomach every time he glanced her way, or the way he made her heart skip a beat with every innuendo.


She was way in over her head here, fumbling to reach some kind of understanding where Spike was concerned as she shut off the water and patted her damp face with a towel. How nice would it be to be able to simply put her feelings in a box and label them appropriately? All clean and neat. What she felt for Spike was anything but those things. It was raw and blazing hot, a tangled mess of tenderness and passion, trust and wariness.


With a sigh, she slid to the floor, leaning her forehead against the door.


*******


This was third car they had stolen and as Buffy climbed inside before Spike could hold the door open for her, she realised she didn’t much care. Being on a road trip with a vampire put a hell of a damper on one’s morals, apparently.


Neither of them had said a word since they’d left the motel room and Buffy found herself experiencing something she and Spike had never shared before.


Awkward silence.


The tension was prickling her skin, making her shift in her seat, her fingers playing with the hem of her top in an effort to find some distraction. Not even the rumble of the engine diffused the awkwardness. Still, she refused to open her mouth. Just as she refused to look at Spike from the corner of her eye.


“Buffy…” Spike said in a voice that was a bit rough.


She turned her head to the side to stare out of the window. Even if she couldn’t quite recall what it was supposed to be, she had a point to prove.


“Look… I’m sorry, yeah? I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”


Damn him, she wouldn’t reply. She would not!


“I know you’re pissed at me, and I deserve it. You’re not cold hearted, don’t know why I even said that. Sometimes my mouth isn’t connected to my brain.”


Buffy bit down on her tongue.


“You can be a bitch though, but I do regret saying it in that context.”


She sent him a glare though she hated the way his apology melted all her reserves. “I’m not a bitch.”


“A little bit,” he said with a smile. “But I like that about you.”


She rolled her eyes, more at her lack of control than at his preferences of her moods. “You seem to take a weird pleasure in being slapped around.”


“Only when you do it.” A smirk briefly crossed his lips and she had an insane urge to nibble it off.


Apparently, upsetting her was not exclusive to still wanting to feel every inch of his skin electrifying hers.


“I’m sorry too,” she said and realised that she really was.


Spike glanced at her, eyes squinted as he regarded her like she was about to laugh her apology off as a joke.


“I’m sorry for the way I cut you off. I didn’t mean to, but this whole… thing we have… it’s all so… it scares the crap out of me and I didn’t want to talk because I have no idea what it means,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to her hands.


“You think I’m not scared? You’re the Slayer. I’m not supposed to want you.” His voice wavered and he wrapped his hands tighter around the steering wheel. “But one thing I learned is that life is too short to be denying yourself something that feels so… right. Even if it is the wrongest thing.”


“Easy for you to say, Spike. You have nothing to lose.”


He laughed then, but it sounded more like a mockery than anything else even to his own ears. Didn’t she see? He had everything to lose. He was one step away from handing her his heart despite the reason in his head screaming she would tear it apart. It was just a matter of time.


“Don’t I?”


“You’re… free. You can do anything you want without people telling you how incredibly wrong the choice is.” She paused before saying, “I envy you.”


“You can too. It’s your life and it’s up to you to decide what to do with it.”


“Except the choices I make affect people around me. I don’t want to be that selfish again.”


Ah, it all came back to Angelus, didn’t it? The wanker always had to bugger everything up.


“You’re not selfish, Buffy. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be happy.”


“I’m not so sure about that,” she said.


Suddenly all he wanted was to pull her out of the sadness hanging over her head like a big stormy cloud. But he knew she’d never give him a chance. Not now and certainly not once they blasted their way past the Sunnydale sign.


He wanted to tell her he was nothing like Angelus, that he could make her happy if she let him. That all he was and all he had, he would give to her without wanting anything in return. Because… because he was in love with her.


Spike, the self proclaimed Slayer of Slayers, loved Buffy. He didn’t know how and when it happened, could not pinpoint the precise moment he fell off the edge. Perhaps it had slowly crept up on him. Perhaps it had always been there, buried under the bricks of denial that crumbled one by one the longer he spent in her light.


All he knew was that she could never know.


“Spike?”


He almost jumped at the sound of her voice. “Yeah?”


“Would you mind if I turned on the radio?”


He shrugged. “Not at all. Just no bubble gum pop songs that will make my ears bleed.”


“What’s wrong with some Britney?” she asked seriously but he saw the small smile she was trying to hide.


“Where do I begin?”


She turned on the radio, leaving it on something that wasn’t exactly to his tastes but at least didn’t make him want to bash his head in.


“Wuss,” she said.


“Brat.”


She poked out her tongue at him and leaned back before kicking off her flip-flops to prop her feet up against the dashboard. Just like that, the tension around them eased. A different one started to build as he was left frequently glancing at her bare legs, wondering whether she was torturing him on purpose or if she was naïve enough to think he could drive without wrecking the car with all his blood rushing south.


“We’re going to return this car, you know,” she said after a while. “Oh God, what if police stops us and they find out you have no registration? I swear it will be miracle if I don’t end up in jail thanks to you.”


“Not a problem. I’ll just suck them dry.”


“You’d better be joking.”


He chuckled. “Relax. I’d only take a nibble.”


“You’re not being funny, Spike.”


“Then why is your mouth twitching?” He winked as she pressed her lips together, blush rising to her cheeks.


“You’re supposed to be watching the road, not me.”


“No worries, I’ve got both things covered.” His gaze once again strayed to her legs, an image of having them wrapped around his waist as he pounded her against a wall flashing through his mind. If he kept it up, he’d end up with a permanent case of blue balls around her.


“I bet you do, handsome,” she said, almost making him swerve the car into the opposite lane.


“D-did you just call me… handsome?”


“It slipped out!”


“So you do think I’m handsome.” He couldn’t help it. He smirked. “I bet you think I’m so gorgeous the mere sight of me makes you want to climb right into my lap and give me a happy ending. Care to prove it?” He shot her a hopeful look.


“You’d like that, huh?”


He shifted in his seat, cursing the fact he couldn’t even adjust his uncomfortable position without her noticing. “You’re a tease, Slayer.”


“Who said I was teasing?”


He gulped and tightened his fingers around the wheel, feeling her gaze travel all over his body. Oh hell, this was torture.


TBC

 

 
Chapter twenty
 
A/N: Previously: Buffy and Spike finally cleared the air a bit and then Buffy started to tease the poor vamp once again.

Thank you All4Spike and BloodyHell for editing! :D

 

Chapter 20


Spike gulped at the way her gaze tickled his skin.


“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll stop this car right now so we can hash this out,” he said. The visual of how he would shag her right on top of the bonnet refused to disappear.


“Hash what out?”


And than being the cruel temptress she was, she sat in her seat sideways with her back leaning against the door. One small delicate foot pressed against his thigh and her toes kneaded the muscle as she stretched out.


“Buffy…” he said in a warning voice.


“But I’m all uncomfy.”


“Well, you’re gonna end up a whole lot more uncomfortable when I bite those toes off.”


“You wouldn’t.” She poked her tongue at him and closed her eyes, her back arching as she tried to work out the kinks in the muscles and distracting him with the sight of her breasts. He wondered whether she was aware of the effect she had on him.


“Uh, Buffy? Mind moving those toes? It’s right distracting,” he said carefully. “Besides, thought you wouldn’t want to touch me with a ten foot pole right now.”


“I never said I didn’t want to… touch you, Mr. Grumpy. Can we just see where it goes and not worry about labeling it?”


He frowned. “What happens when we get back to Sunnyhell?”


Buffy let out a heavy sigh and retracted her feet. He didn’t know whether he should feel relief or disappointment.


“I don’t know. I just… I don’t know,” she answered.


Bugger that. They both knew what was going to happen. As soon as she glimpsed the faces of her friends, he would be left behind, discarded like a bad memory. A fling to be regretted.


“Do you even like me, Buffy? And I’m not talking just about the naughty touching or the snogging though that’s been pretty spectacular. I mean do you like me? As a …as a man.”


She blushed and hugged her legs against her chest. “I feel something for you. I’d never have let you so close if I didn’t. And this makes me pretty much the worst Slayer in existence, but I trust you more than I…” She fell silent. “But maybe I should be asking you the same thing. How do I know you’re not just doing this out of boredom or convenience? What do you feel?”


I’m in love with you so much it chokes me.


He swallowed back the words threatening to spill out. “I don’t know. We both know I can’t keep my hands off you and it’s not only because you’re here. It’s you I want. Don’t ask me why because I don’t bloody well understand it myself. I just know I’m not ready to let go of this.” Ever.


 She ducked her head. “Spike?”


“Buffy?”


“How far from Sunnydale are we?”


He looked over at her, his heart sinking. “Not too far. We’ll have to stop once more and then that’s it.”


She nodded. “I’ll miss this, you know.”


“What’s that?”


“This whole being on the run thing. It’s been fun… more fun that I remember having in a long time. Demon skanks notwithstanding,” she said with a grin.


The corners of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Yeah, me too.”


*******


Spike squinted against the harsh neon light as they walked down a supermarket aisle. Buffy had proclaimed she needed something to eat, so he’d stopped. Looking at all the other shoppers steering their trolleys despite the late hour made his fangs itch. Buffy wasn’t the only one hungry.


“Does this lighting make me look dead?” he asked and Buffy turned to him with amusement shining in her eyes.


“Being dead makes you look dead.”


“Thanks ever so,” he grumbled.


She grinned and playfully punched him in the shoulder. “I was just kidding.”


“Too late. You hurt my feelings.” He sniffed in pretense sadness. “You have to make it up to me now.”


“I do, don’t I? How about… a kiss?”


Spike eyes lit up but he played it off by nonchalantly shrugging and saying, “Yeah, okay. I guess.”


Buffy shook her head in amusement at his antics and stepped so close to him she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Then she rested her hands on his chest and leaned in to kiss him.


On his cheek.


She bounded off before he could catch her.


“Hey, not fair, Slayer!”


She giggled. “What? I kissed you. You never said it had to be on your lips.”


“It was implied,” he whined and chased after her.


He caught up to her in the fruits section and banded his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back against his chest.


“I’m gonna punish you,” he whispered huskily into her ear, reveling in the shiver he caused.


“Okay.”


He chuckled and swept her hair off to the side so he could nuzzle her neck. She went practically boneless against him and he grinned evilly before he started to rain loud smacking kisses on the side of her neck, his fingers deftly tickling her ribcage.


“Spike!” She squealed, wriggling in his arms in a futile effort to escape the assault.


He couldn’t help but laugh when she started giggling uncontrollably. Not even the glare a middle aged woman was sending at them from beneath her rounded spectacles could foul his mood.


“I’ll g-give! Stop!” Buffy gasped out.


“Why should I?”


“I’ll… do anything!”


He gave her one final tickle and murmured into her ear right before nibbling on her lobe. “Anything, you say?” He propped his chin on her shoulder. “Alright. I want my kiss now. A proper one, mind you.”


Buffy twisted around in his arms until she was facing him, rolling her eyes though she couldn’t hide the grin curling up her lips. “You’re so childish.”


“Please?” He chewed on his bottom lip in a way he knew she couldn’t resist. “Or I might be forced to find more of your ticklish spots.”


Buffy sighed and leaned in to kiss him. His hands immediately delved into her hair to pull her closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Finally. His whole body relaxed at the taste of her, the feel of her sweet soft lips rubbing against his. If it was up to him, he’d stay like his forever.


She nipped at him, making all kinds of little noises in the back of her throat that made him ready to lift her up and prop her up against the shelf of oranges just before he divested her of the skirt she was wearing. And whatever she wore beneath it as well. Instead he slid his hand down her side and wheedled it under her skirt to squeeze her ass.


Spike grinned when he heard a gasp of outrage and a little kid asking, ‘Why is that man’s hand under the woman’s skirt, Mommy?’


Buffy seemed to be oblivious so he gently pulled away, drinking in the sight of her half-closed eyes and swollen lips.


“Why did you stop?”


He smirked. “We were corrupting impressionable youth. Not that I mind but I thought you might.”


Buffy glanced around then finally noticed a woman glaring daggers at them right before she hurried away with what looked like a four-year-old that curiously looked at them over his small shoulder.


“Oh God! I forgot we were…” She blushed.


Spike gazed at her from beneath lowered lashes. “You forgot we were… in a public place?”


“Kinda,” she said sheepishly and redirected her attention to the array of fruits. “Look! Apples! All that sweet crunchy goodness.”


She took one in her hand to distract herself from Spike’s smoldering gaze. But even that didn’t help. Not when she could sense him stepping closer and closer until his breath fanned across her cheek when he whispered, “Let’s take it then.”


He trailed his fingers down the length of her arm before his fingers grazed hers, making her stomach flop. He took the apple from her loose hold and pressed a brief kiss to her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize he’d swaggered away, leaving her standing there with glassy eyes.


She shook her head to clear it from Spike inspired lusty thoughts and glowered after his chuckling form.


He sent her a glance over his shoulder, that insufferable smirk plastered on his unfairly handsome face. “Come on, pet. Stop ogling me and move that cute little tush of yours.”


She so had not been ogling! She had been glowering, and if her eyes lingered in a few strategic places while doing so, well, who could blame her? Certainly not him, Mr. ‘I like undressing you with my eyes’.


She caught up to him in the breakfast cereals section and watched with amusement as Spike let out a whoop of joy upon spotting some bland looking wheat thingy.


“Weetabix! Been craving those for ages, I have. It’s a bloody miracle you Yanks even have them here.”


Buffy scrunched up her nose. “What’s the big deal about them? They look pretty boring to me. I’d rather eat Doritos.”


“It’s all about the texture, love. I’ll make you an addict, just wait and see.”


He already kind of had, but not to a weird British snack. Unless she counted Spike as one of those. Actually…


“Choose whatever you want. I’ll be in the butcher section. Gotta get me some blood.”


By the time his words registered in her brain, Buffy was left staring after him with her jaw dropped. Wait. Did he say ‘blood’? As in, blood blood?


She ducked into snacks section to quickly grab some cheese Doritos from the shelf and hurried after Spike. And did he get a kick out of making her chase after him? Annoying irresistible vampire.


“Spike! Wait up.”


He slowed his pace. “Got the snacks?”


She nodded and tugged at the sleeve of his duster to stop him. “Spike.”


“Buffy,” he said with a tilt of his head, smile tugging at his lips. She had to drag her eyes away from the lips in question so she could gather her thoughts. Thoughts that didn’t involve pouring chocolate on Spike’s chest and licking it off.


“Something you wanted?”


“Oh. Right. Umm… what did you mean by getting blood?”


He straightened up. “Not sucking the butcher boy dry, if that’s what you mean.” He shrugged though she could sense how tense he was. “They probably have some residual cow or pig’s blood. I’m hungry, Buffy. I figured you wouldn’t let me go around snacking on citizens.” He stared at her expectantly.


“No, but… why would you? I mean I know why, but… why?”


He sighed. “Doesn’t mean I like this, but I do realize you’d kick me out on my arse if I resumed my usual feeding habits. I don’t want this… thing between us… to end. So I’m making concessions, you could say. If I have to choose between being with you and having a nibble from a tipsy coed, I’m gonna choose you.”


That probably wasn’t supposed to touch her, but it did. The fact that Spike-- a soulless vampire—offered this alternative without having to be asked. That he’d trade his long ingrained habits just to be with her. Well, it did make her heart feel melty.


“O-okay. I’ll just… wait for you here.”


“I’ll be right back.”


He smiled nervously and brushed an errant strand of her hair behind her ear, his palm briefly brushing her cheek before he turned on his heel, his duster swaying at the motion.


As she gazed at him, trying unsuccessfully to stave off the butterflies in her belly, someone gripped her forearm. Buffy jumped and looked with surprise at an old lady looking up at her from beneath a feather-stacked hat.


“Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to tell you what a nice couple you two make.”


Huh? “Couple?”


The old lady nodded and patted her hand. “You two remind me of me and my George when we were young. It’s obvious he’s smitten with you and you with him. Better keep hold of that one, dear. He’s quite an eye candy,” the woman said with a wrinkled wink.


Buffy was still trying to process the fact an 80-year-old lady called Spike an eye-candy so she only managed to mumble thanks and stared after the woman as she walked away.


A couple? Her and Spike were so not a…


Oh. My. God.


They weren’t, were they? Except with all the kissing and groping, and him buying her a stuffed animal, and feeding her and sleeping next to her and… god, she probably shouldn’t continue the long list of how Spike acted more like a boyfriend than Angel ever had.


Was that what Spike really was? And was she his girlfriend? When and how did they get to this point without her even noticing?


She stared at him, her whole body tingling at the sight of his broad shoulders and ruffled bleached curls she couldn’t wait to stroke and that tight T-shirt that clung to his muscular chest… wait, why could she see his chest?


She looked up to see him arch his brow as he made his way towards her. “See something you like?”


Damn, why did he always catch her staring? Did he have a Buffy-staring-radar?


“Nope, not at all,” she lied. Unconvincingly at that.


“Where to next, princess?”


“Liquor!”


Yes, that was exactly the thing she needed right now. Lots and lots of liquor.


TBC

 

A/N: Who wants to see a drunk Buffy? :D

 

 
Chapter twenty-one
 
A/N: Previously:Spike and Buffy corrupted a four-year-old by making out in the supermarket and an old lady called Spike 'eye-candy'.

Awesome ladies who beta'd this: All4Spike and BloodyHell.

Muchas thanks to everyone who reviews, you always make me want to write more. :)

Chapter 21


“You want me to buy liquor?” Spike asked.


“Yes.” He wouldn’t say no, would he?


“Mind if I ask what the occasion is?”


“Oh, you know. Just… getting drunk.”


Spike chuckled. “Don’t I remember a certain Slayer saying she’d never get drunk with me around?”


Buffy blushed. “Well… that was then. This is now, and I want to get drunk. We’ll have lots of time before another nightfall so I might as well try it,” she said. “So will you buy or not?”


Spike shrugged. “Sure. What do you fancy then?”


She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Umm… you choose.”


He smiled knowingly, obviously having figured out she had no idea what kind of alcohol they even sold.


“Alright then.” They walked down the aisles until they found the right one.


“So, did you get the… blood?” she whispered.


“Yup. Got it for free even.” He patted the pocket of his duster. “Nice bloke, the butcher. Not too chatty but he didn’t even blink when I gave my order. Guess people aren’t as clueless as they make out to be.”


He took Jack Daniels off the shelf. “Love this one. Me and Jack go back a while.”


Buffy raised her eyebrow. “Want me to leave you two alone?”


“Jealous, pet?” Spike bit his smiling lip. “No worries. We can make it a threesome.”


Oh, Spike and his innuendos. They were inseparable. She grabbed a bottle of Vodka. “How about a foursome?”


“Naughty.” He perused the shelves. “Anything else?”


“I’m thinking this is enough to render me unconscious.”


Spike laughed. “We’ll see.”


As they made their way towards the cash register, with Buffy stopping to add chocolate glazed doughnuts to the pile in their arms, something occurred to her. “Spike?”


“What is it?”


“Will we have enough money to pay for a room?”


 “Don’t you worry about that.”


She frowned. “But I do.”


“I can get more money if we need it, alright?”


She opened her mouth to speak.


“And not by stealing,” he interrupted her. “I’ve got some cash stashed away if we need it, but I figure we should make do with what we’ve got.”


“You do? Have cash, I mean.”


“You sound surprised.”


“That’s because I am,” she said.
They evaded the scattered late night shoppers and finally made it to the cash register. Spike dropped the bottle of Jack Daniels, the apple and his precious Weetabix on the conveyor belt before taking the rest from Buffy’s arms.


“I thought you said we had to sleep in the same bed because we were saving money.” She was kind of amused when he avoided her eyes and scratched the back of his head.


“Yeah, about that… uhh… Well, I couldn’t exactly withdraw money right then and there, could I? It’s not like I’ve got any debit card on me.” No need to tell Buffy about Wolfram & Hart and the fact he didn’t exactly need a card to get some of the money he’d acquired by letting it sit there and let interest rates multiply it throughout the century. He never used it anyway, being a vampire and all. He straightened up and nodded his head as he grasped this new thread of plausible excuses. “And hey, evil here.”


He put down the bottle of Vodka, Doritos and a bag of doughnuts. Eating healthy, she was not. Her mom would scold her something fierce if she could see this.


“Uh-huh,” she said, not convinced. “So us sharing a bed was absolutely inevitable and practical.”


“Now you get it.”


Buffy bypassed him to start packing the purchases into a small plastic bag while Spike paid. She should have been angry at the way he’d plotted to get them in the same bed but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. After all, he hadn’t molested her or anything. It had been the other way around, actually.


“Are you mad?” he asked with that kicked puppy look. How could she be angry when he gazed at her like that? It wouldn’t do to let him know he was off the hook though. Certainly not when a devious plan popped into her head.


“I am so very, very mad!” She bit her lip to keep the smile at bay. “There’s one thing that might change my mind though.”


“There is?” He took the plastic bag from her hand as an afterthought, but the gesture made her all tingly. It felt weird. Not bad, just weird. As though they were a couple on one of their regular shopping trips.


“Umm… I’ll forgive you for you lying to me like that if you… strip.”


Spike faltered in his step before he shot her a bemused glance. “You’re taking the piss.”


“What? I am so not with the peeing right now, as you can tell.” She wrinkled her nose.


Spike laughed slightly as they walked through the door, fresh warm air welcoming Buffy’s skin.


“Means you’re making fun of me,” he explained.


“Seriously, sometimes I feel like there should be a manual to come with you just so I can understand what you’re saying. And no, I’m absolutely serious. I keep asking it of you but you never strip!”


“It’s not like you haven’t already seen my goodies, nurse Buffy.” He waggled his eyebrows in a way that would have made any man look foolish. Any man but him. When Spike did it all she wanted to do was slam him against the nearest wall and jump his sexy bones.


“W-well… that doesn’t count! Because there wasn’t any music. A-and I didn’t know you’d drop your pants.”


“Is that right? So you want the whole pre-show then? Hmm… that’s right naughty of you.”


Seriously, how could a girl walk without tripping when he said the word ‘naughty’ in that deep rumbling English accent? That just wasn’t fair.


“So you’ll do it?” Her breath picked up at the mere thought.


“No.”


“But Spike!”


He scowled at her. “I’d look like a poof.”


“No you wouldn’t!”


“Believe me, you’d start giggling and that would be right emasculating.”


“No giggling. It would be an entirely giggle free zone. Only whistling… and maybe some crude shouting.”


Spike gave her a dirty look.


“Please?” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.


Spike just shook his head and stopped next to the car. He tossed the bag on the backseat and opened the door for her. She still couldn’t get over the fact he did such things.


“You’ll be the death of me. And not the little one.”


“What’s a… oh. You mean the French orgasm thingy?”


Spike let out a laugh and climbed into the car.


Buffy pouted. “You’re laughing at me.”


“Only because you’re so cute. Just makes me want to pinch your cheeks.”


“On my face! Not… you know, any other cheeks.”


Spike winked at her and started the ignition. “Well, look who’s got her mind in the gutter now.”


She smiled against her will and turned her head to stare out of the window so he wouldn’t see.


“But I’m still not stripping.”


Damn.


*******


The minute they entered a motel room, Spike asked, “So how are we going to-”


Buffy opened the bottle of Vodka and took a swig before Spike could blink twice.


“That will do it,” he muttered and watched as she promptly spit it all out.


“Hey now, careful there, love.” He closed the door and went to Buffy to pat her on the back as she gasped and coughed.


“That was disgusting!”


“Well, what did you expect? You practically inhaled it!”


The grimace on her face was hilarious and he couldn’t help but chuckle.


“Laugh it up, bleach boy,” she said with a scrunched up nose. “I’m not giving up until I get it right.”


“You’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”


“Yup,” she said and seized and grabbed his hand to lead him over to the bed.


“We could totally play a game,” she suggested and his mind immediately jumped right into the gutter. It didn’t help when she put the bottle down in order to slide her hands up his chest and under his duster to push it down his arms. It fell to the floor with a whoosh.


“Could we now?”


“Uh huh. Like one of those drinking games. To make it fun, you know.”


Oh so many possibilities to get his hands on Buffy’s dirty little secrets. Well, he couldn’t say no, now, could he? He smirked.


“Take your boots off,” she said.


He didn’t even protest her ordering him around and kicked his boots off eagerly before jumping on the bed. He landed spread eagled on his stomach and turned his head to the side to follow Buffy’s progress as she walked around the room.


He sighed as she bent down to pick a remote control from the coffee table to turn on the telly. And when she made her way over to the high window, stretching to close the curtains? He couldn’t help but smile lazily and eye the smooth patch of skin her movement had exposed. God, but she was bloody gorgeous. He bit down on his bottom lips when he imagined laying her down on the bed and rolling the top she was wearing up so he could trace the dip of her lower back with his lips and tongue.


The mattress depressed as she sat down and pushed herself up to the headboard to lean against it, one hand reaching for a doughnut. His eyes made a slow trek from her lean tanned legs to her lovely face. The face that was currently tinted with adorable spots of red as she stopped chewing and blushed under his unhurried perusal.


“What are you looking at? I don’t have any food on my face, do I?” She ran her hand self-consciously across her mouth as though she could be anything but perfect in his eyes.


“No, just admiring the view.”


She smiled as she took another bite. He swore she was doing this to him on purpose and he couldn’t believe that even seeing her eat made him hot. Well, her licking the chocolate off her fingers probably had a lot to do with it. The vixen.


“Oh. Well… do you like the… the view?”


He rose to his knees and slowly crawled over to her then he sat down right next to her, their arms in a sizzling contact. Spike turned to the side, his fingers brushing sensually down her cheek. As soon as he did, she put the half-eaten doughnut back into the box resting on the bedside table.


“Yeah, I do.” He smiled at the way her heart started hammering as he caressed her collarbone, stroking her hair away from her face and over her shoulder so he could trace the shell of her ear with his tongue.


“The view is downright breathtaking. Your silky skin.” He kissed the spot behind her ear that made her heart speed up even more. “Your juicy lips.” His thumb slowly rubbed against her lower lip, her hot breath teasing him. “Your curves.” He shifted his attention away from her lip, his fingers stalking the shape of her breast, of her waist before settling on her hip. “There isn’t one thing about you that isn’t turning me on.”


Buffy cupped the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. She consumed him. He couldn’t do anything but succumb to the yearning quest of her lips as she insistently pressed them against his. Hot. Passionate. And tasting good enough to eat. She was all these things and so much more, her chocolate flavoured tongue fluttering against his, her hands burning his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt as she settled them on his chest.


If this was her reaction to his words, then he’d bloody well tell her what he thought of her every second of every day. She wriggled and moaned into his mouth, making him bite down on her lip before sucking it into his mouth. He wanted her. Badly.


Unable to deprive himself of feeling her skin, he caressed her inner thigh, drowning in her responses. Every little sigh. Every shudder. Every slide of her lips. She was branding him as hers with every move she made. Then she slipped her hands under his T-shirt and pushed him to lie on his back before straddling him and sweeping down to kiss him again. He about lost his mind.


Once again, he cursed the tightness of his jeans when she started tantalizingly gyrating her hips, grinding against him with burning intent. She had to be aware of the effect she had on him, had to feel him hard and desperate under her. If she kept up this sweet torture, he’d lose control and take it much further than she probably wanted to.


He gripped her hips in an effort to stop her but when she slid her lips down his throat, her teeth barely grazing his skin, he gave up. Gave in to her. She was nothing if not a temptress intent on stealing his heart. And now she was rubbing against him, scalding hot through the fabric of his jeans and her barely there knickers.


“Fuck, Buffy.” He moaned when she ground against him and bit his Adam’s apple. With a growl, he rolled them over and wound her lean legs around his hips, drinking in the sight of her glassy eyes and parted lips that begged to be tasted. Well, what kind of man would he be if he left her wanting?


Eagerly, Spike closed the distance and kissed her deeply, luxuriating in the soft texture of her lips, the slickness of her tongue teasing his. They both started panting as Spike undulated his hips, being sure to hit just the right spot to make her breath hitch in her throat.


Buffy bit down on his bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth and letting it out with an audible plop. A single drop of sweat gathered at her temple and he leaned down to lick it off before it could spill down her skin.


“Spike… oh God. Uhh… harder.”


He hissed as she dug her heels into his ass to force him closer, her fingers raking down his back in a way that made him wish they were both naked. He’d never been harder in his entire existence. Who knew this hot little Slayer could have him teetering on the edge of bliss within a few minutes?


His name whooshed past her lips in a needy little whisper right before her eyes slammed shut, her head craned backward to expose the long graceful column of her throat to his enraptured gaze as she shattered and clenched her thighs around his hips. The smell of her release hit his nose and it was all he could take. Spike dropped his head against her shoulder and growled, the tension coiling in his groin exploding with the last thrust. Colours burst behind his closed eyelids, leaving him slightly disoriented.


They lay there, panting, hands fumbling to caress each other in any way they could.


Buffy reached out to stroke his hair, giggling. “Wow. That was something.”


“Second that.” He rolled onto his side and tugged her against him, their foreheads pressed together. “Buffy?”


“Hmm?”


“I…” Love you. “You’re amazing.”


She smiled and kissed his chin. “And you’re pretty.”


“Hey, I’m not pretty. Handsome and sexy? Yes. But not pretty.”


“Nope, sorry. I’ve already said you are and I’m always right. Deal with it.”


“Bossy minx.” He growled playfully and tightened his hold on her. “Are you sure you’ll be up to getting sloshed?”


“As long as you won’t let me run around the streets naked.”


He grinned, stroking her hair away from her face. “I’ll look after you.”


“Promise?”


“Always.”


TBC

A/N: Liked it? ;)

 
Chapter twenty-two
 
A/N: Buffy is about to get pretty drunk.

Thank you All4Spike and BloodyHell for betaing, and you gorgeous people who have left me a review! :D

Chapter 22


So here they were, sitting opposite each other on the bed, their knees inches away from making contact as Buffy eyed Spike’s devilish grin. She didn’t know why but every time he grinned like that, all she wanted to do was tackle him to the mattress. Again.


“Ready to play?” he asked in a husky voice that made her all tingly. All she could do was nod.


“Alright then. You know the game ‘Never have I ever’?”


“Yup.” The question was, how did he plan on winning this game when there weren’t any things he hadn’t done?


“Good. Now what we’re going to do, Goldilocks, is play it my way.”


“Goldilocks?”


Spike winked. “We’re going to play ‘I have’ instead.”


“Huh?” Damn him and his cryptic-ness.


“I say something I have done, and if you haven’t done it, you have to drink.”


“Well, that’s going to get me drunk pronto.”


“Now you get it.” Spike grinned then apparently starting mulling over some less gory things he’d done as he wedged the tip of his nimble tongue into the corner of his mouth. She was the one who should be playing with it! Buffy pouted.


“Alright. I’ve run naked down the square in Madrid.”


“You have no—,” she paused, “What am I saying? Of course you have. Okay, pass it.”


He uncorked the bottle of Vodka and handed it to her. “Careful now, don’t chug it all at once like the last time, yeah?”


Buffy wrinkled her nose and took a swig. The stuff was pretty much terrible and she coughed as it burned its way down her throat. Bastard that he was, Spike chuckled at her predicament.


“God, you make the most adorable faces,” he said and tilted his head, a small smile playing around his lips. Every time he’d say something like that, the butterflies in her stomach would start flapping their wings again.


“This stuff is vile,” she said.


“You get used to it after a while.”


Buffy eyed it and grimaced. “That’s because your taste buds go all numb. Now tell me about the naked thing.”


“You’re out of luck on that one. Last time I checked this wasn’t truth or dare, was it?”


If she was standing, she so would have stomped her foot. “Spike,” she said in a whining voice, pleading with him with her eyes for good measure. “Tell me?”


“Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that.” He sighed in defeat. “It was 1897. Let’s just say one angry mob caught us with our pants around our ankles. And let me tell you. Spanish folk are like dogs with a bone.”


“Was it your bone, you mean?” She snorted, feeling more than a little jealous when she thought of the reason his pants were down for the count.


“Hey, I’ll have you know it’s a bloody misery to run with your bits flapping in the breeze.”


Only then did something occur to her. “Wait. Did you say pants around our ankles? I thought women wore dresses back then.” She frowned, trying to work it out.


Spike’s eyes widened and he let out a nervous laugh that immediately raised her suspicions. “Yeah, I meant my ankles! Right.”


Well, if it weren’t a woman… “Oh. My. God. Were you having fun with another man? Like naked kind of fun?” Her eyes lit up. Well this put all kinds of images in her brain, and the visuals were surprisingly erotic so the jealousy receded considerably. Not to mention it had happened before she was even a twinkle in her parents’ eyes. And ew, so not thinking of her parents making babies. Only about the hot man-on-man action. She grinned. “Was there oil involved?”


“We were drunk! And I didn’t even enjoy it. Much.” Now it was his turn to pout.


“So who was on top?”


“Buffy,” he said with a warning tone.


“Who was the lucky guy? Was it some hot Spanish toreador?”


Spike groaned and yanked the bottle of Vodka out of her hands to take a gulp.


“Angelus,” he muttered.


Her jaw dropped open. “You and Angel?” Oh, the visual. The rippling muscles and deep growling as they strained against each other, skin on skin, touching, kissing.


Spike snapped his fingers right in her face. “You in there?”


“Uhh… sorry. Just, you know… you and Angel. Never would have thought.”


“Makes you hot, doesn’t it?”


She squirmed. “It’s my turn now! So… I have… well, I wanted to say I’ve had sex with a man but I can’t really use that now.” Spike shot her a dirty look. “Oh I know. I have a period every month.”


Spike licked his lips. “Is that a hint, love? Offering me a treat?”


“What? Eww, Spike! You’re disgusting.”


He shifted closer to her and trailed his fingers up her inner thigh. “Not to me it isn’t. More like gourmet cuisine. All the best flavours in one delicious Slayer package.”


She slapped at his hand, blushing. “No treats for you, Mister. Now drink.”


“If you insist.” He smirked and bent down to nip at her inner thigh, lips trailing a hot path higher and higher.


“Spike!” she squealed.


He straightened up and looked entirely too satisfied at the way he had made her breathless. “Sorry. Got confused there for a moment.”


He reclaimed the bottle and she watched as his lips caressed the smooth rim. When he tilted his head back, her eyes remained glued to the muscles of his throat as he swallowed. Just as he was pulling the bottle away, a translucent droplet escaped the corner of his mouth.


Buffy closed her fingers around his wrist to prevent him from wiping it off. Their eyes locked before she slowly shifted closer and leaned in to lick it off, his skin cool and smooth under her tongue. Spike cupped the back of her head and turned his head to catch her in a deep kiss. Alcohol tasted so much better off Spike’s lips.


She pulled away and slowly opened her eyes. “Yummy.”


His eyes had softened with emotion she wasn’t quite ready to say out loud and the intensity of his gaze made her weak all over as she slowly caressed his firm chest.


“Love the way you taste,” he whispered, the back of his hand sensually caressing her cheek.


“Love… the way you taste too.”


And if she was being honest with herself, that wasn’t the only thing she loved about him. What she felt for Spike, she couldn’t compare to the way she felt for Angel. Because what she had with Spike didn’t feel like standing on the brink waiting for something bad to happen, always being suspended in longing for something she knew wouldn’t come.


Spike made her laugh rather than cry and now that she had come to know him, Buffy realised what it felt like to be with someone who was her equal. How well they fit together. How it was futile to keep pretending she wasn’t falling in love with this incredible man that made her feel like a woman rather than a girl. And the way he was gazing at her with such adoration in his eyes, open and so much like her, had her acknowledging that even if given the choice to be with Angel, she would choose Spike.


“What are you thinking so hard about?” he asked and smoothed the crease between her brows with the pad of his thumb.


She smiled crookedly. “About how amazing you are.”


He stared at her, seemingly caught unaware, and her heart melted just a little bit more when his eyes wrinkled at the edges as he smiled. She carefully straddled his lap and wound her arms around him in a hug. Without any hesitation, Spike returned the embrace, his cheek smooth against hers as he rubbed her back in wide slow circles.


“What’s this all about then?”


“Just felt like hugging you.”


“Oh. Alright.”


She buried her face in the crook of his neck and inhaled the manly scent of his skin. She could spend hours just breathing him in. The crispy fresh scent mingled with something deliciously spicy and something just a bit bittersweet that reminded her of dark chocolate. Before she attacked his neck like a woman starved, Buffy pulled away.


Right after she quickly stole a kiss from his soft lips, Buffy crawled off his lap and swallowed a giggle at the silly smile on his face.


“Your turn, Spike.”


*******


One hour later Spike watched Buffy in an ever growing amusement. She got tipsy after taking two more gulps. For a Slayer, she really had a miserable excuse for a constitution when it came to alcohol. She had long since passed the stage of tipsy and gone straight to sloshed.


“Spike,” she slurred. “Gimme some more Danny.”


“If it’s Jack Daniels you meant, then no.”


“But I wanna more drinky now!”


“No way in hell. You’ve had enough, and as of right now, I’m cutting you off.”


“You’re mean!”


She went to slap him on the shoulder but missed and fell against him instead. Spike toppled on his back with a whoosh and before he could get up, Buffy straddled his lower legs and pressed her face against his stomach.


“Umm… what exactly are you doing?”


“I want to nuzzle your belly,” she said and exhaled hot stream of air against his quivering abdomen.


“As much as I’d like that, we’ll have to postpone it a bit, yeah?”


“Wanna lick your belly button.” She rolled up his T-shirt and he groaned helplessly as she stuck out the tip of her tongue to circle his belly button.


“It’s so cute,” she said and giggled. “Cutesy little button!”


Against his better judgment, Spike rolled them over. With a great deal of effort, and fighting off Buffy’s wandering hands, he pushed himself up to his knees and tugged the hem of his T-shirt down. He was a bloody saint, he was. What kind of an evil vampire resisted the very warm and insistent woman?


The kind of a vamp that’s in love with a slayer. That can only happen to me.


He had gotten himself into quite a pickle this time, and the worst thing? He didn’t mind at all. But once the alcohol had worn off, all bets were off. He’d snog her little knickers off, the insufferable tease.


She stuck out her tongue and poked it with her forefinger.


“What are you doing?” he asked, laughing.


“It’s floppy,” she said, frowning, and smacked her lips.


“I happen to like your tongue.” Spike smirked and edged her way closer to her. “So… any dirty little secrets you want to share?” Oh yeah, now this, he could take advantage of.


“Sometimes I steal Giles’ cookies.” Her eyes turned wide as she looked around, probably expecting to see Giles hovering over her shoulder. “Don’t tell him.”


“I won’t. On one condition.”


“What?”


“Tell me something juicy because I can’t believe a naughty little Slayer like you wouldn’t have anything embarrassing to tell.”


She turned bright red and picked at the comforter. “My mom almost caught me once.”


Now that sounded promising. “Doing what?”


She crawled closer to him and whispered, “Not gonna tell you.”


“Oh, come on. Did she catch you diddling yourself?”


“Diddlenening?” As soon as the tangled word passed her lips, Buffy started giggling and propped her hand up on his thigh to stay somewhat straight. Except, her sense of coordination seemed to have gone downhill with the alcohol she’d consumed and her hand slipped.


Spike almost jumped in surprise, grunting when she ended up squeezing his bits for a couple of torturously blissful seconds.


“Oopsie!”


He’d already had to wash his spare pair of jeans after she’d rubbed against him, making him shoot off like a rocket a couple of hours ago. No need to get excited again and ruin these too.


Tell that to the little head, Spike. He shot a reproaching look at his unruly privates.


Buffy snorted and in her effort to sit back lost her balance and toppled off the bed. Concerned, and determined to ignore his arousal, Spike glanced over the edge.


“Are you okay?”


“Shh!”


“Wh-”


“Shhhh!” She staggered to her feet and made her way over to the window. “It’s raining!”


Before he could gather his thoughts, never mind respond, Buffy let out a whoop and darted out of the front door.


“Bloody hell!”


She was quick as a lightning of the storm rapidly brewing outside and he ran out after her. Promised he would look after her, hadn’t he? The sun would be rising in a few minutes and his only saving grace were the thick dark clouds rolling across the sky.


Barefoot and dressed only in a short skirt and tank top that were quickly becoming drenched by the sheets of rain, Buffy slid down the slick grass with a squeal of enjoyment. He couldn’t help but grin and run his gaze from her soaked hair to her cute little toes, appreciating the way her clothes clung to her body.


“Spike!” She stumbled towards him and threw her hands around his neck before she planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. “Don’t be a poop head and just stand there.”


He let out a mock indignant gasp at being called such name. “Did you just call me a poop head?”


“Yup!” She smiled drunkenly and gazed at him with mischief in her eyes. “I know a secret.”


He lifted his scarred brow, running his hands down her sides. “Do you now?”


She leaned into him and bit his earlobe before whispering, “You said my name.”


Spike frowned. “I said it many times.”


She shook her head wildly then swayed on her feet as the movement induced dizziness. “When… the chick told me. And she was ugly, you know. With… ugly hair and… tall. Too tall.”


“Pet, what are you talking about?”


She blinked water out of her eyes and furrowed her brows. “The Ama… the umm…”


“Amazon?” Spike asked, his stomach sinking with the hint of where this was going. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know.


“Yes! She told me, but you didn’t!” She poked him in the sternum. Hard. “Jerk.”


She knew? All this time she knew and she didn’t say anything about it? Didn’t taunt him that he’d had the hots for her even before they embarked on this insane adventure? Why?


“But I’m not angry,” she said.


He tried to focus on her eyes through the falling rain. “You’re not?”


She shook her head. “At first I thought… that you wanted just sexy times. And if that was true, I’d have… I’d kick your ass. Just have sex once and go, but… you wouldn’t now, would you?”


“No, no I wouldn’t,” he sad quietly.


She chewed on her lip and gazed up at him. “’Cause you love me?”


TBC
 

A/N: Sooo? Disappointed? Satisfied? I'd love to know. :)

 

 
Chapter twenty-three
 

Previously: Buffy was under influence of the mighty Vodka and asked Spike whether he loved her. Is he going to fess up or skedaddle???

Love you kind readers and my betas (All4Spike and BloodyHell). :)


Chapter 23


Spike blanched as the words passed from her sweet lips. Not even the falling rain could wash away his shock. Was he that obvious? Did she see a lovesick fool every time she glanced his way? Could she see how much he was hers already? Because if she did, there was no way he’d get out of this with his heart intact.


“Do you?” she asked and through the sheer panic of having his heart exposed, he had failed to notice the insecurity veiled in her gaze.


“Yeah, I do,” he said in a shaky voice, expecting her to laugh, to tell him he was insane and that she could never love him back. After all, he’d never be her precious Angelus.


Instead she rose up on her toes and brushed her lips against his in the softest, most tender kiss they had ever shared. He cupped her face and stared into her eyes, confused and dizzy and absolutely clueless as to what he should do next. Did it mean she was okay with it? Or was she saying goodbye and trying to be gentle about it?


“Buffy?” God, how he hated this. That she held his entire existence in the palm of her hand. That he’d never been able to shake off his humanity that still stubbornly clung to his very core even after all the decades spent trying to purge it out.


“I don’t…” she said and he could feel his eyes tear up, expecting the unavoidable rejection. He’d never be good enough. Hadn’t he learned that lesson already? Maybe the alcohol finally gave her the courage to stop this insanity.


“I don’t understand. Why? Why would you love me?”


“What?” He struggled to process her words, the fact she hadn’t said she could never love him back. That she could doubt herself when she was the embodiment of everything he didn’t deserve but couldn’t help but crave.


“I… I’m not… Everyone leaves. And it’s got to be my fault. Beca-”


He palmed her cheeks and kissed the words right off her lips. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this. Hurting because his selfish bastard of a Grandsire didn’t appreciate her for what she was. “No. Don’t you dare say it. You’re the best bloody woman I’ve ever met. You care. And if there’s any man stupid enough to not realise then I say… their loss.” I’ll stay for as long as you let me.


She pressed her face against his chest and the warm breath sinking into his flesh made him realise they were standing there getting soaked to the bone. That the outside world still existed and if he didn’t get her into the room, she’d start getting cold eventually, even if it was a summer day.


“Let’s get you in, yeah?”


She nodded and let him pull her inside.


*******


When Buffy woke up, the sun was beginning to fall behind the horizon and she quickly squeezed her eyes shut at the headache pounding inside her skull. All the things she’d said last night came rushing back to her. Yes, she had been pretty drunk, but not as drunk as she’d let Spike believe. She’d just… she’d wanted an excuse to let go. To just be for one night without having to worry about consequences. Whoever said that alcohol was liquid courage had most definitely been right.


She then noticed the arm wrapped around her waist and the solid presence of Spike spooned against her back. With a slight smile, she traced the length of his fingers. He had such beautiful hands.


After they’d gone back inside, Spike had ordered her to take her clothes off so she wouldn’t catch a cold. Of course, lacking her usual coordination, her elbows had gotten trapped in her tank top. To Spike’s credit, he acted a perfect gentleman and didn’t laugh much when he helped her out of it and eased his spare button-up shirt over her shoulders, his fingers brushing over her skin when he buttoned it up from top to bottom. Not to mention he even blow-dried her hair.


“You up?” came a groggy voice from behind.


“Yes.”


“How do you feel?”


“Like I’ve been run over by a truck, pretty much.”


She felt him tense suddenly. “Do you… do you remember last night?”


She could have lied and said she didn’t remember a thing that she didn’t know he loved her, but was it really fair to him? Then again she wasn’t quite ready to confess her own feelings yet and she didn’t know what was the right thing to say anymore.


“Bits and pieces,” she finally said.


“If you… if you want to say something or… well, just let’s get it out in the open, yeah?”


She twisted around and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you for taking care of me.”


Slowly, he relaxed against her and said quietly, “You’re welcome. Told you I’d look after you.”


She pulled away enough to be able to look him in the eye. “I knew you would. I trust you.”


Spike smiled, a hesitant shy quirk of his lips that squeezed her heart. “Slayer trusting a vampire. You sure there isn’t apocalypse just around the corner?”


“Spike, there’s always an apocalypse around the corner.” She kissed his collarbone. “But the two of us are badass enough to handle it, right?”


“Right you are.”


And she had a feeling he understood what she was trying to say. That she did want him in her life and his answer had just told her that he wouldn’t mind staying. Still, they only had a couple of hours before they would be in Sunnydale and she prayed everything would turn out okay in the end. She tightened her arms around him and closed her eyes when he kissed the top of her head.


*******


They had made it far enough to retrieve Spike’s DeSoto and she was sitting on the bench seat next to him. With every passed kilometer, her stomach tightened with anxiety she couldn’t shake nor she could pinpoint the reason for it. It felt as though Sunnydale was a completely different planet rather than home and once the reality intruded, the entire world she had built around Spike and her would come crashing down like a house of cards.


She didn’t want him to leave.


The scary thing was, she had come to need him, to want him by her side, always making with the innuendos and naughty touching, smiling in a way that made her heart jump in her chest. She had come to crave the things he made her feel, talking to him and just being close enough to touch him.


Spike’s hand landed on her knee and she realised she had been bobbing it up and down in a nervous tick.


“Are you alright?”


She interlaced her fingers with his, reveling in the slight callous of his skin, the security of his larger palm enveloping hers. She really loved his hands.


“I’m okay.”


Spike let out a sigh and she glanced up from their hands to take in his expression when he suddenly killed the engine and parked the car off the road.


“Why are you stopping?”


“There’s something I want to do.”


“Like what?”


Her curiosity got piqued when he let go of her in order to open the car door and climb out. Before she knew what hit her, Spike was holding the door on her side open and offering his hand with a roguish grin.


“May I have a dance, Buffy?”


She stared at him and then let out a shocked laugh. “What are you doing?”


Nonetheless she took his hand and felt him effortlessly haul her to her feet. She couldn’t help but stare around and the deserted road and up at the clouded sky, wishing it was clear so she could see the twinkle in Spike’s eyes better.


“You know, I had a dream once,” he said and pulled her into his arms.


“What about?” She circled his waist and smiled against his collarbone, feeling both silly and elated as they started to sway to the beat of the silent night.


“You. Me. You wore this tight little number.”


“Really? Well, at least I wore clothes.”


“Oh, love. Believe me, it wasn’t too far off from me tearing it off.” Spike chuckled and rubbed her back. “The thing is, we were dancing, I guess you could say. There was some fighting involved too.”


“Did I kick your butt?”


“You wish, Slayer.”


“So I take it I did.”


He growled and bit her earlobe. “Minx. Now stop interrupting me. I was about to get to the point.”


She grinned, closing her eyes at the feel of his breath tickling her ear. “Sorry, go on.”


“The point is… that ever since I woke up all I wanted to do was this. Just have a dance with you. Your body against mine, bathing me in your scent, your skin at my fingertips,” he said. “Does that answer your question?”


She shivered and tried to control her breathing. “There was a question?”


She couldn’t see his face but she knew he was smiling against her hair. “You asked me what I was doing.”


“Oh.” They stopped moving and simply stood there, surrounded by the dust covered main road and the sounds of crickets. Just hugging. As she wrapped her arms around him tighter, she wished they could stay like this forever, enclosed within their self created world under the safe cover of darkness


Neither of them wanted to go back but neither said a word. Buffy couldn’t help but feel the desperation mounting in his every touch and every unnecessary breath he exhaled and she had no idea what to say to reassure him nothing had to change. The future was a shaky ground and she could barely keep her footing as it was. Just something over a week and he had made her world careen off its axis.


“Come on then. We should go.”


She clutched at the back of his T-shirt before letting him go. They would make it.


They had to.


*******


The surroundings turned familiar and she vaguely recognised the buildings lining the side of the road. Never bothering with the seat belt to begin with, she scooted over to Spike and rested her head against his shoulder, her hand landing on his firm thigh.


“I can’t believe we’re almost there,” she mumbled, more to her than to Spike.


“Your chums will be glad to see you’re back.”


“I guess. They have been pretty busy lately… they probably didn’t even notice.”


“Sure they did. I bet the little Witch is hankering for a good sit down and a girly chit chat. You’ll be painting each other’s nails in no time.”


Buffy snorted. “How old do you think I am?”


“Spoken like a true pensioner.”


“Hey! Watch it, pal, or there will be no kisses for you.”


He ran his heated gaze all over her exposed skin. “Love, I’d be hot for you even if your tits got all saggy.”


“How romantic of you,” she said with sarcasm and swatted his thigh.


“Resulting to violence, I see?”


A slow smirk that could rival his curled her lips. Oh, she could punish him in so many better ways that would shut him up real quick. She gave his thigh a good squeeze.


Spike shot her a glance, his eyebrow cocked. “Getting awfully friendly with my leg there, love.”


“It was winking at me.”


Spike waggled his eyebrows at her. “I’ve got other things that could be winking at you.”


She giggled. “That must have been the worst innuendo I’ve ever heard.” Then she dragged her fingers higher and higher until her pinky skimmed the edge of the considerable bulge between his legs. That wiped that smart ass grin right off his face.


When she finally cupped him through the jeans, Spike gripped the steering wheel hard and swallowed heavily.


“If you keep that up, I’m gonna wreck the car.”


“No, you won’t.” She squeezed the rapidly hardening flesh under her palm and licked a path up the side of his throat then nipped at the tender skin with her teeth.


“Christ,” he managed to mumble in a husky voice that instantly turned her into jell-o. The plan was kind of starting to backfire on her. But it was all his fault! Him and his sexy growling noises that made her press her thighs together to stifle the ache resulting from touching him.


“Do you like this?” she asked in a breathy voice, reveling in the way the muscles in his jaw ticked as he fought for self-restraint. Still, his eyes remained glued to the road ahead even when she started to rub him slowly but firmly, making him gasp and splay his legs wider to grant her easier access.


“Bloody hell, yes.”


The teasing was a double edged sword and she had to force her hand away and plant it on his thigh instead before things got even more out of control. “Good.”


“W-what?” It took him a while to shake of the daze and she would have snickered if she weren’t aroused as well. Still, he totally deserved to be teased. After all, he did it every chance he got, the sexy fiend.


“Why did you stop?” he asked.


“That was for the saggy boobs comment.”


Spike groaned.


All of a sudden, she couldn’t get to Sunnydale fast enough.


TBC


 

 
Chapter twenty-four
 

A/N: Coming up: Back in SunnyD!

Every single one of you who left me a review, I owe you inappropiate smoochies. Or a massage- it's up to you. The same goes for you, my lovely betas (All4Spike and BloodyHell). ;)

Happy Easter everyone!! HELL YES to me flying back home for a month. Oooh, yummy home cooked meals, how I have missed you.
 

Chapter 24


Spike narrowed his eyes at the Sunnydale sign and resisted the impulse to plough right through it. It wouldn’t do to endanger Buffy’s life, especially since she had dozed off and was now curled against his side. A heavy sigh rolled past his lips as he caressed her arm and pressed a kiss against her temple. Would it be awful of him to turn the car around and dash in the opposite direction?


It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Buffy. He did, really. More than he should, considering his track record with women who always ended up screwing him over. No, it was all about her bleeding friends and their holier-than-thou attitude. The prejudice against his kind was understandable, thanks to the Big Forehead and his own actions, but it put him in the position of a pariah.


Yeah, he couldn’t really see them throwing him a welcome party once they found out he and Buffy were together. What he expected was a chest-full of stakes and threats for him to keep his mitts off the Slayer. Buffy may believe she could ignore their opinions but he knew her, and her friends were one constant in her life she wouldn’t be able to bear losing. So if it came to a choice between him and her mates… well, Spike didn’t like his chances.


He took a grudging turn into the street leading to her house, cursing the fact Sunnydale was so small it took him only a couple of minutes to get around to Revello Drive. He squeezed Buffy’s shoulder and slowed the car down to a halt a few blocks away from her house.


“Wake up,” he whispered into her ear and peppered kisses on her face.


She mumbled something unintelligible and followed it by a grumble of protest as she buried her face in his neck.


“Open those peepers, love. We’re here.”


She yawned loudly and he couldn’t help but chuckle at her disoriented face when she finally opened her sleepy eyes.


“Mmm… you let me fall asleep.” She pouted and glanced out the window. “Why didn’t you stop by my house?”


“Well, I figured someone would be there and I don’t exactly fancy a stake through the heart,” he said with a cocked eyebrow.


“Oh. Good plan.” She stared out the window. “Do I have to go?”


Spike picked up her hand and lifted it to his cheek before kissing her palm. “As much as I’d love to steal you away, I think it would be better if you went… we can meet up later if you want.”


“Sounds like a plan. Got to say I am so not looking forward to the Spanish Inquisition. How am I going to tell them I’m dating you of all former arch-nemesis. Or is it nemesis-es? Huh.”


Spike chuckled and bit her thumb then sucked it into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the digit. “Well, just tell them I can make you come with your clothes on and I bet they’ll be all for it.”


“Pig.” Her eyes zeroed in on his mouth as he sucked her finger deeper into his mouth. The nimbleness of his tongue was making her all kinds of dizzy. The things he could do with it…


“Mmmm,” he purred and let the finger pop out of his mouth. “Wanna lick you all over.”


Was he reading her mind now? “Uhh…”


Spike leered and leaned in to nibble on her jaw. “Someone’s articulate today.”


“Your fault. Now kiss me.”


“Oh, I love it when you’re boss-”


Impatient, Buffy cut him off with her lips pressed to his and straddled his lap. The wheel was digging into her back but she couldn’t care less because Spike was languidly tracing her lips with his tongue, his fingers crawling up her ribcage to rest right beneath her breasts.


She loved the way he growled when she settled herself down on his lap more firmly, the bulge at the front of his jeans cradled between her thighs. He was all consuming and passionate, devouring her lips and rubbing her nipples with the pads of his thumbs through the fabric of her halter top. If he kept it up, she’d explode.


Then he tugged on the strings tying her top at the back of her neck and let the material slide down her skin until it revealed her to his hungry touch. She gulped in air when he released her lips and winked at her right before he swept down to kiss her chest.


“God, Spike. What are you…”


“Shh, gotta have a taste.” He circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue, making her squirm and pant as she threaded her fingers in his hair to hold him in place. Right as she was ready to plead with him to do something, he closed his lips around the tip of her breast and sucked it into his mouth.


She bit her lip so hard it started to bleed, arching her back. Accidentally, her elbow hit the steering wheel right smack dab in the middle and the horn let out a jarring loud screech. She jumped up, dislodging Spike’s heavenly mouth and glanced wildly around. How was it that he made her forget herself so easily with a mere kiss and a few touches? Oh, who was she kidding? The way he kissed and used his body should be considered illegal.


“You should go before I shag you right now,” he said roughly and gave her cleavage a last parting kiss before tying the strings of her halter, his hands falling away to rest on her shoulders.


“And that would be… bad?”


“Wanna do it right.” He shot her a shy look that made her whimper, he was so irresistible. “Take my time worshipping every inch of your body. Making you so wet you won’t be able to take it anymore and then… then I’ll…” He pressed his lips against her ear. “Slide right in to the hilt.”


She swallowed and gripped the front of his T-shirt. “That’s just mean. How am I supposed to make my brain work now?”


Spike slid his hands down her sides to her bottom and rolled her hips against him. “You’re not the only one with a big problem here.”


“Oh, I hate you so much,” she said in a breathy voice and kissed him swiftly on the lips.


“Yeah, I hate you too.”


*******


They couldn’t help but indulge in another make out session before she finally unglued her lips from Spike’s and climbed out of the car. He winked at her in that irresistible way that curiously always left her itching to drop her clothes. Well, wouldn’t that make him hit a trashcan if she did it right now? With a giggle she waved after him, knowing he could see her in the rearview mirror even if she couldn’t see him in return due to the blackened windows.


Buffy was actually grateful for the short walk towards her house as the night’s summer breeze helped her calm down from the mindless haze Spike’s touch always seemed to instill. The closer she got to the house, the more her stomach tightened with nerves though. How exactly did she plan on dropping the bomb on them? They would totally wig.


Well, maybe she would be lucky and nobody would be at the house. She kicked at a pebble and watched it skip down the sidewalk in front of her. She knew well enough Giles would be there to make sure she came home safe and sound since she’d called him before they retrieved the DeSoto.


Stupid, stupid Buffy.


All too soon, the front door was looming in front of her and Buffy wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. Time to face the music.


So as to not give her mother a heart attack, she knocked rather than retrieving the spare key hidden in the flower pot. Within seconds, the door was flung open and she was enveloped by her mother’s arms and the scent of jasmine.


“Are you okay? Rupert explained you had to hunt down some demons. I was so worried.” She ushered Buffy inside and straight into the kitchen. “I cooked pot roast, you must be so hungry. Are you sure you’re okay? I hate when I don’t have you home and see you’re safe with my own two eyes.”


Buffy grinned and sat down on the stool. “I’m fine. No need to go all extra freaky mom on me.”


“Well, you wait until you have your own children one day.” Her mother smiled and rubbed her back before hustling away towards to put heaps of food on the plate.


Sometimes her mom didn’t seem to realise babies weren’t exactly what the future held for her and Buffy couldn’t find it in her heart to bring up the fact she’d probably die before she even thought of wanting them.


Instead she asked, “Where’s Giles? I thought he’d be here and all.”


“Oh, he called right before you turned up. He should be here any minute.”


The plate was put in front of her and Buffy had to force herself to take a bite. Would it be better if she told her mom now or just say it in front of everyone at the same time? Tear off the band aid in one go, so to speak. Nah, probably not.


“Mom?”


Joyce sat down opposite Buffy and folded her arms on the kitchen island. “Yes, honey?”


“I’ve got… something to tell you.”


“You’re pregnant!”


“No! God, no. Would you stop with the baby talk, please? This is important.”


Joyce pressed her hand against her chest and let out a relieved sigh. “Sorry. It’s just that you’re too young to have kids.”


Buffy put her fork down. “Okay, I need you to not freak out. Can you do that?”


Joyce furrowed her brows but nodded. “I can try.”


Well, that was probably as much as Buffy was going to get. Right as she opened her mouth, the door bell rang.


It must have been Giles and Buffy was torn between feeling frustrated and relieved she didn’t have to spill the beans yet.


He gave her a warm but a slightly awkward hug that was so completely Giles-like she wanted to laugh. After he assured himself of her well-being—repeatedly and to the point she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes-- they relocated to living room where Giles whipped out his notebook. Then he started questioning her with an eager grin, slightly scary in its enthusiasm. He had already filled three pages in his notebook.


“Can you describe the habitat in which they lived?”


“Habi-huh?”


Giles huffed and pushed the glasses further up his nose. She had missed riling him up. It never failed to amuse her. Not that she’d let him know she was kind of doing it on purpose most of the time.


So she told him what she knew in the hope it would be enough to keep him busy and not question-


“So, how did you get home? I can’t imagine you had enough money to both travel and buy food.”


Oh, crap. She’d gone and jinxed it and now he was staring at her curiously, expecting an answer! She was absolutely terrified of telling him the truth. He’d flip and look at her in such disappointment it would make her sick to her stomach.


“Umm… you know…” Oh God, I can’t tell him! “Hitchhiking!”


“Buffy, such way of traveling is not safe. I wish you would have told me you needed help. I would have come and helped out.”


“Ah, you know, Slayer here. I can take on some redneck with wandering hands. Not there were any!”


“Are you sure you’re quite alright?”


She nodded a bit too energetically and the movement made her slightly dizzy. “Yup. And if you ask me that one more time, I’m going to bite your head off.”


He stared at her. “Buffy, we’re on the Hellmouth. Please don’t joke about such matters.”


“Got it. No bite-y jokes. But honestly, Giles, you can chill. It was all… quick and mostly painless.”


“So how many of them were there?”


“Uhh… I don’t know about you but I tend to skip mathematics when I’m fighting for my life.”


“Buffy, please… you skip mathematics anyway.”


She gasped. “Giles!”


He took off his glasses to give them a good polishing but she could see he was trying to stifle a grin. Was he teasing her? That was so not cool.


“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”


She glanced around in panic. Okay, good. No Mom hovering around to hear something that might get her in a world of trouble.


“Still! Grounded Buffy means no slayage. And the fact I’m eighteen has no merit here, believe me.”


“I do apologise.” He put his glasses back. “So, can you tell me approximate number then?”


“Umm… lots?”


He gave her an exasperated look.


“Okay… fifty or so. I think.”


His eyes widened. “Fifty? How ever did you manage to handle so many adversaries on your own?”


Oh, shit. I am so busted!


“Uh… erm… w-with the spell. I already told you about that, and I was mostly fending them off as it worked. Just spilled a bit of my blood on the altar and poof, instanto presto or… whatever.”


Good save, Buffy. Now let him ask about how she knew about the blood to begin with.


She watched with trepidation as he opened his mouth to question her further.


“Giles! I… it’s getting kind of late and, you know…” She faked a yawn. “I’m a bit tired.”


His cheeks turned a bit red and she would have relished seeing him flustered at what he probably thought was lack of manners if it weren’t for the fact she was holding her breath, praying he wouldn’t ask for any more details.


“Of course. Of course. I’m sorry. You’ve had a rough time and need some rest.” He stood up and gathered his notes.


“We can totally catch up tomorrow at your apartment. Call Willow and Xander and we’ll make it a party. A very tame, very non-alcoholic party.”


“Well, perhaps a bit of malt whis-”


Buffy lifted her eyebrow.


“For me, not for you! You’re still underage after all,” Giles said, adjusting his glasses.


“And I’m sure you were all prim and proper when you were our age.” Oh yeah, she remembered and still shuddered at having seen Giles revert to his rebellious young self.


Giles chose to ignore the comment though he couldn’t quite look her in the eye. “I’ll let them know. Goodnight, Buffy.”


She couldn’t help but grin at his hasty retreat. “Goodnight, Giles.”


As he started to walk, he bumped into her mom who was apparently about to check on them. Oh, she could feel the awkwardness as they traded a polite chit-chat as her mother saw him out. And were they blushing? Eww, the mental images of what inspired them to act like that brought up all sorts of nasty images with them doing the groiny horizontal mambo and… so not going there.


She slumped into the cushions when the door slammed shut. A big chicken. That’s what she was. A big cowardly chicken that couldn’t admit to having started dating a soulless vampire that had tried to kill them all at one point or other. She didn’t think that way about him anymore, but her friends still did. They didn’t know Spike as well as she did. Didn’t know how shy and vulnerable he could be. That he loved her. That what he lacked in the obscure soul department he more than made up by having heart of a good man.


She’d tell them all.


Tomorrow.


But first things first. It was time to woman up and face the biggest, scariest challenge of all. Her mother.


TBC

 

A/N: If you review, you'll make my day! It might even prompt me to type faster. ;) Also, I have a question: Is the skin on the end of your elbow really called 'wenis'? And why the hell does it sound so much like 'penis' and 'wiener' combined?!? This is outrageous. No one should have wenises on their elbows.

 
Chapter twenty-five
 

Chapter 25


The talk with her mother had drained Buffy of her very last ounce of energy. The welcome scent of her bedroom and familiar squeak of her mattress as she sat down heavily only deepened the hollow feeling within. It didn’t exactly go well. It just… went.


Naturally, her mother gave her a concerned look, the wrinkles around her eyes somehow more pronounced under the realization her daughter was a big screw up who couldn’t keep her hands off the undead population. But she didn’t kick her out of the house and she seemed to have come to terms with the possibility of Spike being around.


After all, she was her mother and she loved her no matter what.


In the end, all her mother wanted was to know she was safe and happy, and if Spike was what it took, Joyce wouldn’t stand in their way. But her mother wasn’t fully aware of the whole big fiasco that was the aftermath of Angel becoming Angelus, courtesy of one Buffy Summers and her sucky track record of birthday celebrations. Her mother didn’t know just how much wreckage that event had resulted in.


Buffy’s muscles screamed in exhaustion as she collapsed on her back yet her eyes refused to close. All she could think about was how much worse things would turn out once Giles, Willow and Xander found out.


Then there was Spike.


Just a couple of hours bereft of his presence and she already wished they hadn’t come back. As soon as she rolled onto her side, she clutched the closest pillow to her chest, missing the lingering scent of his skin on the linen.


She wished they could have always been enclosed in the little bubble of their self made world. She wouldn’t even mind the crappy motels as long as she could just be. Because with Spike, he never expected her to be anything but herself. She didn’t have to be a hero, untouchable and faultless. She didn’t have to be a good student and a perfect daughter. She was just Buffy.


And she wasn’t willing to give him up.


*******


They all acted so normal. Too normal. It raised her suspicions until all her mind was screaming was that they somehow knew, that they were aware she had a giant secret she was keeping from them. The fact turned her from nervous to downright paranoid until she thought she’d snap. Maybe it really was just her nerves playing tricks on her and Xander wasn’t looking at her suspiciously from the corner of his eye as he stuffed his face full of sugar glazed doughnut and made snappy remarks designed to drive Giles crazy.


“So how are you doing?” Willow asked as she sat down next to her on the ratty couch. “I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks. Giles told us you went to hunt down Amazons. What was it like?”


Good old Willow. She had missed her and she felt a pang of guilt that she left Willow out of the loop. That wasn’t what best friends were supposed to do.


“Ah, you know. It was okay. Just your regular slayage day.” Liar, liar, liar… “What about you? Did you and Oz go to LA like you planned to?”


Willow’s eyes lit up at the sound of Oz’s name and Buffy found herself happy for her as Willow animatedly described the trip. Maybe it was selfish but she’d always felt a bit jealous of the connection between Willow and Oz. But not now. And maybe, just maybe, Willow would find it in herself to feel happy for her too.


“Will? We’re friends, right?”


Willow frowned, looking at her with unspoken question in her eyes. “Of course we are.” Her face fell. “It’s me isn’t it? I’m a bad friend. Are you telling me I’m a bad friend? Because I can do better! I’m sorry I haven’t been much around lately. And I know with the whole Angel badness and missage of him I should hav-”


“No, that’s not what I… You’re not a bad friend. You’re my very best one. And it’s not about Angel. I just… there’s something I need to tell you and you’re not going to like it.”


“What is it? “


“Actually, I think I should tell everyone.” She stood up and cleared her throat until Xander and Giles stopped bickering and turned their attention to her. Her knees were definitely not shaking. Not even a little.


“What’s with the serious look, Buffster?” Xander shook the doughnut box in his hands. “I didn’t eat the chocolate ones, see?”


She took a deep breath and before her brain could catch up to her actions, she blurted out, “I’m in love with Spike!”


Silence.


She could barely catch a breath and she thought she might be hyperventilating because the sudden laughter that left Xander holding his stomach barely squeezed past the cotton filling her ears.


“Good one, Buff!”


Willow laughed nervously and Giles only stared at her, his brows furrowed.


“I’m not kidding,” Buffy whispered.


As abruptly as the sound burst forth, it died down and the buzzing of silence returned full force, worse than ever. Her own heartbeat was barreling in her ears and she wished she could just run out and be swallowed by the sound of outside traffic as they all stared at her. She wanted to but couldn’t because her feet wouldn’t move.


“I’m in love with Spike,” she found herself repeating just to override the sudden tension.


It didn’t help.


“He stumbled drunk to my front porch a couple weeks ago and he passed out and then we fought and we ended up running from the Amazons because Spike said my name and I got shot and Spike got shot and we had to keep running.” She took in a ragged breath, unable to stop the barrage of words spilling forth from her lips.


“This whole time, we’ve been together. He saved my life twice and fed me jell-o and after that I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him or do other stuff, and then we got closer and he makes me laugh. Do you know the last time anyone made me do that? But he can, and he’s so… he’s different and he sees me. He even bought me a stuffed rabbit and even if he can be a jerk, he’s still sweet. I don’t expect anything from you. I know you must think I’ve gone crazy and maybe I have, but please I couldn’t take it if you hated me because of this.”


She couldn’t lift her eyes to take in their expressions. Trying to suppress panic gnawing to claw its way to the surface, she plopped on the couch and ran a tired hand through her hair.


They started to talk all at once.


“You shacked up with Deadboy Junior?”


“Are we talking the-bottle-in-your-face Spike?”


“I knew you were hiding something from me. I should have gone and found you…”


“Are we sure she’s not under some kind of spell?”


“Spike as in William the Bloody?”


Suddenly, something within her snapped and she couldn’t take it anymore. She jumped back to her feet, stunning them into silence. Xander regarded her with disbelief and a healthy dose of anger while Willow seemed to be trying to figure out the facts. And Giles? Giles wasn’t even looking at her anymore.


“This isn’t up for discussion.” She raised her hand when Xander opened his mouth to protest. “Believe me, I know what you think. Got the message loud and clear but honestly… it’s none of your business. I don’t need you to approve of who I’m dating.”


“Tell that to Miss Calendar,” Xander said and Buffy could feel her eyes well up with tears despite her resolution to keep it together.


But then Giles spoke and it shocked her more than anything.


“Enough, Xander!” He pulled the glasses from his face and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “That was uncalled for. Jenny… what happened was not Buffy’s fault. It’s not fair to place it on her shoulders.” He turned to Buffy. “Don’t take this as a sign of my approval because if what you’ve said is true… I think you’re being stupid. Do you honestly think he’ll stop killing? He has no soul, no conscience. It’s his instinct.


“But I can’t tell you what to do. As you said, you made your choice and you’ll have to live with the consequences of your actions,” Giles said.


She swallowed through the lump in her throat and nodded. “You’re right. It is my choice. But you’re wrong about him.”


“For all our sakes, I hope you’re right.”


It didn’t feel right to stay there any longer so she picked up the house keys from the coffee table and left. Right as she strode away from Giles’ house, steps patted down the sidewalk before someone touched her shoulder. Buffy tensed up and spun around to see Willow standing there with a pained expression on her face.


“You walk really fast,” Willow said.


“Yeah, kinda not keen on getting yelled at. Don’t know if I can hear you say you hate me now so if that’s why you follo-”


Willow’s eyes widened. “No! No I don’t. And neither does Xander or Giles. They’re just… we’re all just a bit shocked. And worried. I mean, two weeks ago you hated Spike. Right?”


Buffy shrugged. “I didn’t know him then.”


“And let’s not forget he was hell bent on making you very dead last year.”


“Yeah, there’s that.” Buffy sighed. “But it’s different now. It’s crazy and weird, I get that. But… he kinda makes me happy.”


“So it’s really true then? You and Spike are … with the, you know… smoochies?” Willow stared at her with curiosity.


“That and some.” Buffy tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans, her shoulders hunched.


“You got groiny with Spike?” Willow’s cheeks reddened as she said it but the lack of judgment in her voice made Buffy believe her best friend would have her back once she worked through the shock.


“I think we’ve already established it’s Spike,” Buffy said with a spark of amusement. “And no, we haven’t… not yet. But God, I want to jump his bones. Like asap.”


“Buffy!”


She jutted her lower lip in a pout. “Sorry for the TMI. I know you don’t approve, but I could really use a best friend. I have all these feelings and no one to talk to about them. ”


“W-well… we could talk. You can walk me home,” Willow announced and patted Buffy on her back as they started to walk. “So what are Spike smoochies like?”


Buffy grinned.


*******


As the day trickled by, Buffy’s day got suckier and suckier, the only positive point being Willow’s support even if it was a bit reluctant. Seriously, just how many goo covered things planned on attacking her tonight? It was like a huge flood had washed them right into the Hellmouth just to make her miserable. Considering they stank like fish as well, she wouldn’t be surprised if someone told her the assbutts up above had it in for her today.


The last one she’d beheaded a couple of seconds ago got in the last laugh and knocked her down, right into a headstone.


“Arrgh!” She swiped a glob of yellow slime off her cheek and winced at the dull throbbing in her lower back where she’d hit the stone.


For a minute she just lay there, the hard ground under her like sandpaper grating her skin. With a teeth clenching determination, Buffy propped herself up and staggered to her feet. Great. Now the throbbing stepped aside to invite in slicing agony that had her gasping for breath, her shoulders tightening under the pain of strained tissues.


The walk home seemed to take forever and she had never been more grateful for the lazy squeak of the front porch when she finally stepped on it.


She unlocked the door and dragged her tired form inside, fumbling in the dark to switch on the light in the hallway.


“Mom?”


Nope. Nothing on the Mom front. Joyce had been planning on sorting something out at the gallery though Buffy’s suspicions had popped up like a persistent Jehovah witness when she’d seen her mom put on her diamond earrings and dab her neck with expensive perfume.


The thought of her mother on a date with some hairy-chested, gaudy jewelry wearing gigolo was way too squicky to handle. She was at the gallery, all alone and definitely not smooching some stranger…


God, what if he has a moustache? And a golden tooth!


Buffy’s shoulders dropped even lower as she trudged up the stairs to her room, upset and stinky.


Just one bubbly bath, that’s what I need. Just one lovely, soothin-


The door bell rang and for a moment Buffy gave the option of not answering a serious thought.


She so shouldn’t have turned on the freaking light. Great. She couldn’t get a respite, apparently. And why should she, when almost everything had gone straight to hell for the entire day?


Buffy grouched as she went to answer the door. She really didn’t need to deal with more lecturing and accusations from anyone right now. The door’s hinges whined in protest as she swung it open with just a little more force than necessary.


“What do you wa-”


Spike was standing there, obviously trying not to fidget, his hands behind his back


“Hello, Buffy.”


“Spike,” she said, surprised. “You rang the bell.”


“Isn’t that what people usually do when they come visit?”


“What if my mom was home?”


Spike shrugged. “Didn’t think that far ahead.”


She couldn’t help it. She grinned. Leave it to Spike to lift her mood.


He frowned and tilted his head to the side. “Why do you smell like fish?”


Or not.


She glanced down at her ruined top with a sigh of dismay. “Patrolling. Goo demons. The rest is stinky, gross history. I was just going to take a bath when you arrived.”


“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bugger up your plans,” he mumbled and dropped his gaze to the faded wooden porch. “I got you something.”


“Like a present?” She craned her neck to see what was behind his back when it occurred to her she was being rude. “Oh, sorry. Come on in.”


He slipped past her and when she closed the door and turned around, Spike was handing her a bouquet of wild flowers with a bashful smile on his face.


“Do you like them?”


Invisible fingers wrapped around her heart and squeezed. “I love them.”


Their hands brushed as she took the flowers and her skin tingled all the way to the kitchen. No card, no flashy wrapping, just some kind of vine tying them together. Did he go and pick them himself? Somehow, the thought of Spike picking flowers and without a doubt grumbling and casting stray glances around to scan the area for potential tattlers that could ruin his Big Bad reputation made her all warm and fuzzy inside.


As soon as she stretched out to grab a flower vase from a cupboard above her head, sharp pain lanced up her back, needles prickling her muscles in the aftermath.


Fingers splayed across her back. “Are you alright?”


With a flick of her wrist, she turned on the faucet and watched the water slosh around as it filled the vase.


“I’ll be fine. Just fell down during patrol. No biggie.”


“But it hurts, yeah?” Spike asked, his voice resonating with concern.


She shrugged, not too willing to admit weakness. That just wasn’t in her make-up. She was supposed to be strong, after all. “I’ve had worse.” Well, that much was true.


Spike made a clucking sound of displeasure and she turned off the faucet before placing the flowers in the vase.


“No need to go all heroic on me, Buffy. You know that.”


She turned on her heel. “I’m not. I was just trying to say that you don’t need to worry about me.”


“Like that’s ever gonna happen.” He leaned in and kissed her shoulder, his cool lips a relief on her heated skin.


“Don’t kiss me when I’m gross like this.”


He shook his head and rested his hands on her sides, trapping her between the counter and his muscular body. “Don’t care. Now, you’re going to let me take care of you.”


He squished her lips with his forefinger when she opened her mouth to argue.


“I know you don’t need my help. This isn’t about that. Now nod.”


“It’s just a-”


Spike tapped her lips with his finger and raised his eyebrow. “You’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t you. Alright. How about this? I’m not giving you a choice here. Now, this is how it’s going to go. You’ll get your tight little arse into the bathroom, strip down until you’re all luscious and naked and then you’ll slip into the nice warm water to soak. Maybe put in some of the fruity girly stuff you chits fancy so much.” He pressed his body into hers and caressed the spot behind her ear with his lips, his hand shifting to cup the back of her neck. “Then I’ll sneak in all quiet like to help you out. Wash your back and all those achies away. What do you say?”


Well, if he put it that way… “Well… maybe. I mean my lower back does hurt,” she said.


“See? Good thing I happened by then.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “I’ll take good care of you, love.”


Her eyes dipped shut when he started to play with the piercing in her ear. “Okay.”


“Good girl,” he whispered in a deep baritone that vibrated through her every cell.


She jumped when he gently slapped her ass. “Now get your gorgeous self into the bathroom. I’m right behind you.”


She could only whimper.


TBC

 

A/N: This was the longest chapter yet. There's about four more to go before the end! :)

 
Chapter twenty-six
 
A/N: How quick am I?! I think I deserve a cookie. ;)

Beta'd by awesome All4Spike and BloodyHell.
 

Chapter 26


Buffy dropped her clothes next to the sink and carefully stepped into the empty tub. Turning on the water after she climbed in had always been her ritual. Ever since she was a child, she relished watching the water cascade down in a miniature waterfall and feel it lap at her feet as it splashed against the ceramic.


Apparently, there was still a bit of the child in her as she eagerly dumped a load of bubble bath under the flowing tap and squished the thick, freshly formed foam between her fingers. Her hair was tied up in a hurried, messy bun on top of her head so it wouldn’t bother her as she slumped into the curve of the tub, the chill of cold ceramic making her wince as it touched her back. Soon the water level was rising higher and higher, the warmth seeping into her tired flesh.


Feeling much better, Buffy palmed a heap of the bubbles and carefully applied them to her cheeks and chin to form a mock beard. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be silly. And apparently, she’d forgotten Spike had told her he’d let himself in after five minutes or so. Except he’d never mentioned the not knocking part, and she swiveled around at the sound of the door opening.


Spike stared at her and promptly burst out laughing.


Oh, right. The foam beard.


Blushing, Buffy wiped it off her face. “I thought you’d knock first.”


Still snickering, he dropped next to the tub and sat on a small, light blue fluffy rug. “Is this what you get up to when no one’s around? Should I worry you’ll turn into a bloke?”


“I don’t think I’d like having a penis. It’s all… dangly.”


“Oh, love.”


She folded her arms on the lip of the tub and rested her chin there. “What?”


“You’re adorable, that’s all.” He wiped a residual bit of foam from her cheek, making her skin burn in the spot he touched.


“Well, you tell me. What’s it like to have the man thingy?”


Spike looked at her from beneath lowered lashes and worried his smiling lip. “Man thingy,” he repeated in a teasing drawl.


She shrugged. “Yup.”


“Around you? Always har-”


“Okay! That’s way too much information.”


Now it was his turn to shrug. “Still true.”


The water sloshed around as she shifted her position and cast an innocent glance at the area in question.


“Someone’s peeking where they shouldn’t,” Spike commented. “Unless you want to be cruel and tease me even more.”


“I wasn’t…. Okay, but I didn’t even see anything. It’s your fault for pointing it out and it got me all curious if it was true or not.”


“Oh, believe me, it’s true. It’s bloody torture to be around you sometimes.” His gaze roamed over her face then dipped lower to trace the line of her neck. “Especially now that you’re all… naked,” he said, the last word dripping from his lips like a drop of honey.


“It goes with the getting clean thing,” she murmured equally quietly but she knew he’d hear her even through the rush of water.


Speaking of, she should probably turn it off. After briefly glancing down if the bubbles covered her boobs, Buffy reached out and turned off the tap.


“I promised to wash your back,” Spike said hopefully.


“Then what are you waiting for?” She gave him a lazy smile and handed him the sponge, shivering as he took it from her. It felt really weird to be so close to him, what with the nakedness while he was still dressed, but it made her heart quicken just the same.


For a few seconds, Spike just sat there staring at the silky smooth skin of her back and tried to get his brain to work.


“Spike?”


He shook his head like a dog would shake water from its fur. “Yeah, I’m on it.”


He dipped the sponge in the hot water, gathering bubbles on its way. His fingers trembled slightly before he skimmed the length of Buffy’s spine with his fingertips. Then he remembered the sponge in his other hand and started to wash her back. Buffy’s shoulders slumped and her head dipped forward as the water from the sponge sluiced down her back. Succumbing to gravity, it also trickled down his forearms to teeter on his bent elbows before dripping down to wet his jean clad thighs. But he couldn’t give a shit when he was all too consumed with the woman sitting in front of him. He’d never in million years thought she’d allow him this close, that she’d trust him like this.


“You’re so beautiful.”


The muscles under his hands tensed for a second before she let out a drawn out exhale.


“You really think so?”


“Yeah.” He nodded even though she couldn’t see him and dropped the sponge to let it float in the rippling water. His palms ended up resting on her shoulders and he leaned in to press a brief kiss to the back of her neck.


“Just gonna give you a bit of a massage, alright?”


“Okay.”


Her skin was hot, drawing extra heat from the water and it made his palms tingle as he gently kneaded out the knots in her shoulders and neck.


“Can you do this every day?” she asked sleepily and swayed with the movement of his hands.


“What’s in it for me?” he replied playfully, his thumbs digging into her Trapezius muscle.


“Ah, anything you want. You have the best hands ever. I think they might have a thrall or something.”


He had to close his eyes to gain composure though it didn’t much help with the X-rated images suddenly popping into his mind, starring a naked Buffy in all kinds of compromising positions.


“I can do all sorts of nice things with my hands,” he said, relishing the way she moaned under his ministrations. “So… you’d do anything, eh?”


“Pervert,” she said with a smile in her voice. “I know exactly what you’re thinking right now.”


“Nah. I was just hoping you’d bake me chocolate chip cookies.” Naked. And letting him lick the crumbs off her belly.


“Liar.”


He caressed the length of her arms, his fingers grazing the sides of her breasts.


“Spike?”


“Yes, love?”


“What would you say if I… if I…” Suddenly, she was turning around, her skin flush from the warmth, her lovely breasts half-covered with bubbles. “Will you stay here tonight?”


Bloody hell, yes. Was she seriously asking him this? “But what about your mum?” Wanker.


“She’s a heavy sleeper, and… I don’t think she’s coming home tonight.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought but turned serious again, her gaze dropping to rest on the glimmering surface of the water as she awaited his response.


“I’d love to.”


She glanced up at him. “Really?”


“Buffy, there’s nothing more I want than to lie you down on your frilly bed and kiss every single inch of your body.”


“Every inch?”


“I’ll even lick your armpits.”


She snorted and flicked tiny droplets into his face. “You’re so gross.”


“Believe me, there’s not one single part of you I don’t wanna taste.”


She gulped and chewed the inside of her cheek, looking cute enough to kiss breathless. He was tempted to do just that.


“I feel the same way about you.”


Well, fuck. If that didn’t made him even harder than he already was.


“How’s the water? Turning cool? Maybe you should get out before you catch a cold.”


Buffy giggled. “Look who’s all eager.”


“You have no idea.” He leaned in to kiss her, gripping the edge of tub when she bit his lower lip.


“I think my skin’s turning all prune-y. Better get out.”


“Marvelous plan.” He stood up and fetched a big white towel, holding it open for her as she rose to her feet, shedding water from her skin. The first sight of her completely naked made him growl. She was perfection.


Grudgingly, he wrapped the towel around her and swept her up into his arms.


“Oh God, be careful!”


“I’ve got you, no worries.”


“I forgot to pull the plug.”


“Sod the plug.” He nudged the door open with his foot and stepped over the threshold. “Which way?”


“I can walk, you know,” she said, amused, but tightened her arms around his neck. “Right down the hall, first door on the right.”


“Got it.” He strode down the narrow corridor, catching brief glances of a kiddy Buffy smiling at him from the walls. “I bet you were bossy even then.”


“Huh?”


“Oh… the pictures. Bet you drove Joyce crazy back then.” Luckily, the door to her room was open so he walked in without any trouble.


“You betcha. She used to tell me I was stubborn as a mule.”


Spike grinned before setting her down to her feet. “Haven’t changed much then, have you?”


Buffy put her palms on his chest. “I’m a handful.”


“Hmm… that you are.” He cupped her breast through the towel, squeezing gently. “I like your handfuls.”


Her pupils dilated and she tugged the hem of his T-shirt from his jeans before whipping it over his head and carelessly flinging it over her shoulder. The hunger in her eyes as she stared at him was enough to make any residual blood left in his brain relocate south of the border. He swept in to catch stray droplets of water from her neck with his tongue, shivering at the beat of her pulse beneath her smooth skin.


“I should dry you up.”


“Uh-huh.”


Spike parted her towel almost reverently, not even realizing he was purposely holding his breath when she was fully revealed to his eyes once again. He stifled the urge to groan at the glorious sight and gently dried her arms from shoulders to the tips of her fingers.


“Are you sure you want to do this?” And he could have punched himself in the face for asking that if it weren’t for the fact he wanted her to be certain. If she ended up regretting this moment, it would hurt more than he was willing to admit.


“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” she whispered and closed her eyes when he passed the fluffy towel down her torso and belly, paying more than adequate attention to her breasts.


“Wanna bet someone’s gonna come knocking the second things get even more… heated.”


“God, don’t even joke about that!”


With a grin, he dropped to his knees and licked his lips at the sight in front of him as he gently picked up her foot and put it on his thigh, being sure not to miss a single drop of water as he toweled her legs.


“Spike, are you teasing me on purpose?” She buried her fingers in his hair as he pressed a moist kiss to the hollow next to her hip bone, his arms reaching around to dry her bottom.


“I don’t know what you mean.”


She couldn’t believe she didn’t feel like running away from his intense gaze. That she didn’t feel the need to hide. But it was him. Spike and the hungry passion in his eyes that fueled her confidence enough to stop thinking about anything that might be wrong with her body. How could she when he stared at her like she was drenched in chocolate?


Then his cool breath caressed the sensitive skin under her belly button right before his arms banded around her thighs, his lips tickling her belly and she could hardly think at all.


“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this to you? You’ve been driving me right insane, you have. Swaying that tight arse in front of me.” One hand slid up to squeeze her ass cheek, his teeth nipping on her navel. “And your scent. It makes my mouth water.”


She glanced down, her fingers tightening in his hair when he trailed soft kisses lower and lower, making the muscles in her abdomen clench in anticipation. Then he licked her. Long and soft and moist and, oh God, how come she’d never realised how incredibly good this could feel?


“Mmm… what are you-”


He growled into her increasingly soaking flesh and stole another tentative lick like a cat having its first lick of cream. Her knees trembled.


It took her few beats to realise his arms loosened and he was standing in front of her.


“Why did you stop?” she whined and clutched at his bare shoulders to keep herself steady.


He rolled his devilish tongue behind his front teeth as though he knew exactly how much it would make her mind dive straight into the gutter.


“Let’s get you more comfy, shall we?”


And with that, he grasped her waist and backed her up against the bed until the back of her knees hit the mattress. With a quick, deep kiss, he pushed her down, sank to his knees and threw her legs over his shoulders.


“Ready?” he asked with a wink and all she could do was grip the sheets and make a high pitched keening noise he’d hopefully understand as ‘hell yes’.


TBC

 

A/N: Anyone here that fancies a bit of foreplay? ;)

 
Chapter twenty-seven
 

Chapter 27


Why couldn’t she breathe? Such a common thing. Exhale. Inhale. She did it every second of every day but now as Spike pressed wet open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh, his long dark eyelashes fluttering against her skin as he coasted higher and higher, all she could manage were shallow bursts of air.


She was losing control.


He’d barely even touched her and here she was, a prisoner to his wicked mouth and the lustful adoration in his half-lidded eyes. Hoping she wasn’t gross but too unwilling to sound like an insecure child to ask. Unable to do anything but clutch at the bedspread, hoping it would ground her and knowing it wouldn’t.


“Stop teasing me,” she managed to say between those little moans she couldn’t keep from escaping her mouth. Was that husky rasp her voice? She’d never thought she could sound that way.


“I’m not. I’m just relishing the moment, is all.”


Finally, he traced the tip of his tongue over the smooth skin just shy of touching her folds, making the muscles in her thighs quiver with anticipation. She was just about to plead with him when Spike slipped his tongue between her soaked lips and slowly licked from bottom to top, letting out a low rumbling sigh of pleasure that reverberated all the way to her core.


“You’re delicious,” he mumbled, laying her fears to rest, and used the tip of his tongue in a way that even thinking of it was making her blush. She took in a gulp of air.


“Spike… please… you can play later but I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t do something.”


“I am doing something,” he countered with a grin and plunged his tongue so deep inside her, goose bumps erupted on her skin. This was the single most decadent thing that had ever happened to her and she was already an addict. Addict to his every whim and every sensation of his fingertips skidding across her stomach as his tongue moved inside her.


“God! Uhh…”


“Mmm,” he moaned into her flesh and slowly slid his tongue out to trace nonsensical patterns over her fevered flesh before kissing her distended clit. “Like that?”


 “L-love it!”


She squeezed her eyes shut and she couldn’t give a damn that he looked smug because oh God, he definitely deserved every praise her scrambled brain could think of.


When she thought nothing could possibly feel better, Spike slanted his lips across her pulsing nubbin before suckling it into his mouth, his tongue flickering across her flesh in a way designed to drive her wild. She gripped the sheets so hard her knuckles turned white and she couldn’t help but thrust her hips up to meet him halfway. The control she had over her own reactions and responses snapped, liberating her. Making her succumb.


Spike growled against her and suddenly his finger was pushing inside her, making her bite down on her lip hard enough to draw blood.


“Christ, I could spend hours drinking you in,” he whispered roughly.


Yes, please do, her mind screamed but she couldn’t make her mouth voice it because Spike was excruciatingly slowly licking her clit, another of his amazing fingers finding its way inside her. It was just enough stimulation to make her wriggle and gasp, enough to keep her on the edge but not enough to push her off. He was going to kill her.


Spike glanced up at her face every so often to gauge her responses, to learn what made her tick, what made her absolutely crazy with need. Her brows were drawn together and she could barely keep her hazy eyes open but every time she glanced down to meet his gaze, it felt as though he touched a live wire, the electricity shocking his heart into beating again.


Buffy’s skin was radiating more heat with each pass of his tongue, each slide of his fingers and he absorbed her every expression, every little sound. Just like the way her stomach would tense under his palm when he switched from gentle suckling to a few quick rubs of his tongue. Her essence was flowing into his mouth and the flavour was so heady he could easily dine on her for days.


So lost in her. He felt like a faded reflection in the mirror, her every response tumbling back to electrify his own skin, her every gasp of pleasure echoing in his own throat. She was so genuine, so uncorrupted, that all he could think of was claiming her for himself. Even more so when she untangled one hand from the sheets and hesitantly slid it into his hair.


Not demanding or forceful but tender as she scratched his scalp until he felt like purring.


When his fingers slowly increased their massaging of the muscles within her passage, she started to tremble, her belly tightening more frequently as she moved her hips in time with his movements, her heart now galloping so fast he wished he could rest his head on her chest and listen.


He could easily keep her on the precipice for hours until she was practically incoherent with the need to come but he craved her too much right now. Needed to know what it felt like to have Buffy come apart under his mouth.


He crooked the two fingers in a come hither gesture, smirking when she let out a particularly loud moan when he grazed her G-spot. She started to whisper his name and it made him even harder in his tight jeans. The torture definitely worked both ways.


Letting out a shuddering breath echoing hers, Spike suckled at her nubbin and pushed down at the swollen little spot within her walls, rubbing unrelentingly. She started panting, her thighs clamping around his ears, her eyes sliding open as she watched him with such a desperate, pleading gaze it almost made him come in his jeans.


Tongue lashing, fingers thrusting, he groaned into her hot flesh and felt her shudder right before her walls swelled around his fingers, her back arching off the mattress as she spasmed hard around him with a silent cry. He didn’t let up, keeping up the stimulation until she went limp and he slid his fingers out to lap at any stray drop he hadn’t caught.


She stroked his hair and smiled at him, her cheeks flushed as she struggled to catch her breath.


“Wowie.”


With a parting kiss to her belly, Spike climbed up her body and nuzzled her cheek. “Did you like it?”


“Couldn’t you tell?”


“A fella likes to hear it anyway.”


“It was… ugh.” She caressed the nape of his neck and pressed a kiss to his temple. And the look in her eyes… God, he wanted her to look at him like that every day.


“I think you killed half of my brain cells,” she said with a breathless laugh.


“Well, that means I still have to off the other half, don’t I?”


Buffy giggled and hooked her leg around his hip, her calf rubbing the back of his thigh. Then with a sudden frown, she pushed at his shoulders and he felt a fleeting moment of panic, thinking she was about to send him on his merry way.


“You’re still half-dressed,” she said. “I don’t think I like that.”


Spike let out a relieved laugh and rolled off her. “Are you sure you want to do more?” Gently rubbing circles on the dip above her buttocks, he said, “How’s your back feel? Still hurting?”


“The bath definitely helped. I feel hundred times better now. Gotta love the perks of Slayer healing.” Her face appeared above him, a strand of flaxen hair falling down to tickle his forehead. “I want this, Spike. Really,” she said then gave him a cheeky smile. “I can’t wait to see you all naked and yummy again.”


“Yummy, eh?”


“Good enough to eat,” she confirmed and leaned down to kiss his chest.


Bloody hell, she would be the death of him.


“You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever met. Not to mention you’ve got the most delectable quim I’ve ever tasted.”


She bit his nipple, making him hiss at the cross between pleasure and pain. How did she know it made him hot?


“Stop it, you’re going to make me blush.”


He caressed her silky back. “I love making you blush.”


“Then you should get out of those jeans.” Buffy circled his belly button with her tongue, her fingers crawling down his navel to rest at the waistband. Then she glanced up, all rosy cheeks and hesitant smile. “Can I?”


He didn’t trust himself to talk so he nodded and inhaled sharply as she unbuckled the belt then popped the top button open. The heat from her hands was already seeping through the fabric and he had to bite down on his tongue to stifle an unmanly keening noise tickling the back of his throat.


The sound of his zipper being dragged down reverberated through the silent room, making him hold his breath even though there was no need to. When Buffy’s hot little hands reached inside and pulled him out, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. This was the first time she had ever touched him like that and he wasn’t all that sure he could keep himself in check.


As soon as he forced his eyes open, he noticed the green of her irises dim with insecurity. Despite her playfulness and eagerness, Buffy was still so young and he often forgot. Forgot that she probably wouldn’t know what to do, how to touch him and now she was biting her lip, her eyes big and unsure as she tentatively caressed his length, her fingers not fully reaching around the girth. Well, he couldn’t have her doubting herself. Not when her mere touch had him bursting full to the brim with bloody awful verses of poetry he thought long buried and forgotten.


“Look at me,” he whispered and tried to reassure her with his gaze when she did. “Anything you’ll do is going to be perfect for me, yeah?”


“I just want to make you feel as good as you made me, but I… I don’t exactly know what I’m doing.”


“All I need is for you to touch me. Like this.” He wrapped his hand around her own and guided her movements. Up and down. Feeling the muscles in his neck strain as he fought to let the pent-up release take him over.


“Your skin is so soft here,” she said with a touch of awe and he let go of her hand, unable to speak for the moment as she explored him, watched him respond.


“A bit tighter.” He was immensely proud of the steadiness in his voice.


“Like this?”


“Mmm, perfect.”


Then her thumb swiped across the tip and the knots of hot white pleasure in his abdomen tightened in response. Needing to feel her, he grasped her wrist and halted her movements.


“Gotta take my kit off.”


He needed a few seconds to gather his composure, to regain control and stop acting like a teenager who never had a hand job before. But with the way her cheeks gained a rosy hue as she raked her gaze all over him as he kicked off his boots, peeled the socks and wriggled out of his jeans to stand before her naked… well, he’d be hard-pressed not to make a mess of it the second he was inside her.


She held her arms out to him and he followed eagerly, willingly, reveling in the softness of her curves molding to him as they lay down, their naked bodies pressed together. Her forehead rested against his and the feel of her skin so hot against his sent sparks running across his nerve endings.


“You interrupted me.” And damn her but she was pouting. “I was just getting into it. And you were supposed to… show me how.”


How did she expect him to not take her then and there when she said she wanted to touch him?


“Want me to tutor you, Miss Summers?”


“You make it sound so kinky,” she said, stifling a grin.


He hummed in agreement. “Why, yes, I do indeed. But it’s not going to be free, you know. I don’t just tutor lovely little Slayers like yourself out of the goodness of my heart.”


She rested her palm over his heart and smiled. “You don’t?”


And the way she looked at him, so accepting yet he felt as though she had a secret he couldn’t quite work out.


“You’ll have to pay me,” he murmured into her skin.


“What do you want?”


“I just really want you to kiss me.” He closed his eyes then peered at her with one half-lidded eye. “Well?” He puckered his lips.


She rolled her eyes, a secretive smile curving the bow of her lips and then he let his eyelids fall. Sweet and hungry, familiar yet new, kissing her was like bathing in the sunshine from which he’d been banished for over a century. Yet with Buffy kissing him like she was submerged in him, he felt as though his heart could beat. As though he could be the man he once had been, only better. He’d be everything she wanted him to be and all she needed to do was smile.


Her hands skimmed the expanse of his back and she pulled away, drawing in a breath.


“Spike?”


“Hmm?” he asked, his eyes still closed, his fingers buried in her hair that smelled of apples and something fresh and sweet that was uniquely her.


“Can I tell you something?”


Now that sounded serious, so he opened his eyes, somehow hoping he’d be able to read her thoughts in the expression on her face.


“You know you can.”


“Okay, here I go.” She let out a resolute exhale as though preparing for a battle. “I think… I think I might be falling in love with you.”


TBC

 

A/N: A bit of sappiness to cheer you up. :)

 
Chapter twenty-eight
 
A/N: Guess what's coming in this chapter?! Yes, your mind is allowed to go straight into the gutter. This means you probably shouldn't read this at work. ;) Or, you know, don't get caught! *g*

Lovely betas: All4Spike and BloodyHell.

Btw, if you're bored I have this silly little poll on my blog... topic is your favourite current sci-fi TV show. I'm kinda curious what you guys would choose. :)
 

Chapter 28


Spike would swear the ground shifted.


He stared at her, willing his mouth to work but unable to do so. What happened next was instinct. Pure and simple like the fact the sky was blue and fire burned. His body reacted before his brain could process and catch up and then he was rolling Buffy on her back, winding her leg over his hip as he whispered her name, seeking out the truth in her eyes.


Her almost imperceptible nod was all he needed to bury half of his length inside her tight, wet heat. She inhaled sharply and dug her nails into his shoulder blades and he realised what he’d done. That he’d acted on impulse, that he should have been gentler.


“Oh God, Buffy, I’m sor-”


“No.” She cupped the back of his head and crashed her lips into his, her other leg shifting to cradle him between her thighs, her feet on the back of his thighs urging him to push in even deeper. “You’re perfect. This is perfect. Don’t you dare stop now.”


“God, you’re so....”


He sank in even further until he was buried fully within her, wrapped in her scalding warmth. A drawn out moan tumbled from his lips. Just staying inside her without moving surpassed anything he’d thought was the best moment of his existence. Making love to her for hours until they both lay on her girly bed exhausted and spent sounded bloody brilliant right now.


Buffy leaned in to bite his earlobe before she pulled him into a kiss. The feelings blazing in his chest expanded even more until he thought his heart might explode from the intensity. She loved him. The way she glanced at him, the way she touched him, the way her tongue danced against his. She’d meant every word and he couldn’t believe… He could hardly draw a breath.


“Buffy...” He nuzzled her neck, connected to her unlike he’d ever been to anyone. “Love you so bloody much it’s doing my head in.”


His lips traced the line of her jaw as he slowly ground into her, on the verge of laughing and crying and being overwhelmed by his love for her. By being in her, so surrounded and drenched by everything she was.


“You’re incredible.”


“I know,” she said with a breathy laugh and slid her hands down to squeeze his ass. “So are you. Mmm your butt is-.”


“Edible? Best bloody arse you’ve ever seen?” He chuckled, rolling his hips.


Buffy’s snort turned into a moan when he pulled out and slammed his way back in. “N-nope. Not at all.”


She must have been the world’s worst liar. Couldn’t even keep a smile off her face as her nails scorching a path down his back made him growl.


“Mmm… well, yours is.” Shudder. Gasp. “Gonna take a bite out of it.”


“Uh… promises, promises.”


“The things I can show you,” he said with a wistful smile. “Wanna be on top?”


“Umm… I don’t know.”


“You’ll love it, I promise.”


“Okay.” Well, she trusted him so it wouldn’t hurt to try, even if she didn’t know what to do once she was there. Clamping her thighs harder around his hips, Buffy rolled them over and settled herself down with her eyes fluttering shut. “Oh God… this feels so…”


Spike rested his hands on her waist, caressing his way up to her breasts. “Deep?” he asked in a low rumbling voice.


Did he expect her to answer? She was glad to find enough coherence to nod with the way the waves of pleasure pulled her under and wouldn’t let her surface. But she didn’t give a damn. She’d drown if it meant not having to let go of this feeling.  This was definitely of the good.


Spike was stretching her to the limit as she sat on top of him motionless, shuddering. Soon it became too much, but not nearly enough, and her body started rocking without any conscious thought. Up and down. Hips circling. Her hands braced against Spike’s firm chest, his eyes locked with hers as she welcomed him into her body again and again.


“Like this?”


“Yeah,” he growled and kneaded her sensitive breasts. “Could watch you ride me like this all day.”


“I could let you.” Damn the duties and demon slayage. She’d just found a funner way to spend her free time.


His lips parted in a guttural grunt of pleasure and the sound of him so entirely lost in her spurred her on to move faster. His hands fell to her thighs, fingers gripping tightly enough to leave bruises if she wasn’t the Slayer.


The sound of flesh meeting flesh, harsh pants, all of it should have grossed her out but instead just expanded the hot ball of fire in her belly that was threatening to burst any second now. Then Spike rubbed her lips with his thumb and she greedily sucked it into her mouth, her tongue laving the rough pad as she continued to move on top of him.


Their glassy eyes met as he slipped the finger out and settled it against her clit. With that her eyes slammed shut and she felt herself race towards explosion as he circled his thumb once, twice…


“Spike!”


The climax built and built until it left her breathless and lightheaded when it finally exploded. Her muscles clamped down around Spike’s length so hard she could hardly move and the warmth spilled all over her skin like liquid fire. Her toes curled and her earlobes tingled before she finally collapsed against Spike’s chest.


But apparently, Spike was nowhere near done with her and she let out a surprised squeak when he banded his arms around her back and started to gently thrust up into her.


“Not too tired yet, are you, love?”


What shocked her was the sudden almost overwhelming hunger for him. It was as though the orgasm only intensified her need rather than quenched it.


“Nuh-uh.”


“God, you’re perfect.”


His deep voice rumbled against her cheek and she let the demanding pull to have him again take her over. It was near impossible to resist it when she was so aware of every shift of his muscles, every breath he exhaled, every throb of his flesh within her.


“Talk to me,” she mumbled, not sure if she actually voiced it or if it was a fleeting thought.


“Want me to talk dirty to you?”


She gasped for he swiftly sat up, the suddenness of the movement pushing him deeper into her.


“Yes.”


“Want me to say how you feel around me?” He tipped her over his forearm and circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue, a whisper of a touch meant to drive her crazy. “Want me to tell you how you feel wrapped around my cock?”


“How?”


“Tight. Wet. Hot. Like satin, like you were made just for me.”


She whimpered and stared into his darkened eyes as he finally sucked the nipple between his lips.


“You too. You’re like… you fit me so well.” And he did. His body was a comforting presence rather than a stifling burden, his height just perfect for her to tease his lips with hers.


The pleasure rippled down her spine and she slowly circled her hips.


“You taste so sweet. How do you taste so sweet, Buffy?”


“I do?”


“Mmhmm.” He purred and licked a path up her throat before pulling her into a heated, languorous kiss. Their lips slanted together, uncoordinated but desperate, their noses bumping.


He urged her legs to wrap around his waist and her arms around his neck. Buffy did so without asking. His hands slid down her spine and under her ass to support her weight as he rose to his knees. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t already made her all putty in his hands.


Spike settled her on her back, slipping out of her in the process. Arms above her head, she opened her mouth to complain when he just sat back on his heels and stroked her inner thighs.


“Why did you stop?”


Spike smirked, playful but his eyes were bursting with sinister intent. She liked it when he was sinister.


“Just giving you a breather.”


“No breather needed here. I’m all breathed out!” She pouted and reached out to trace the ridges of his taut abdomen, fascinated with the hard muscle contrasting with the velvet of his skin


“You don’t, eh?” He shifted closer and knelt between her thighs, letting his heavy length slowly rub back on forth over her slippery flesh.


If he thought he could tease her like this, he was mistaken. With what she hoped was a sultry smile, Buffy reached down and wrapped her fingers around him right before she guided him back inside. Now, that was more like it.


“Minx,” he mumbled but stroked his way into her. “Lift up, kitten.”


His pelvis met hers and he was fully inside. This is what she’d missed. Feeling so absolutely complete.


And he had asked her something. “Huh?”


Yup, the sexy bastard was snickering as he tapped her hip. “Up with your bum.”


She did and he slipped a fluffy plump pillow under her ass, changing the angle of the penetration.


Ooh, nice…


“I like it,” she said.


“Thought you might.”


Then he pushed her legs together and rested her ankles on his left shoulder. She’d swear her eyes crossed. She could only pant and moan at the intensity of not being able to move as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Her closed thighs somehow made him feel even bigger, if such thing was possible.


“Spike,” she whispered, watching his nostrils flare and knowing it meant he loved her saying his name in that way. He nibbled on her ankle and set a pace that left the headboard rattling against the wall in a staccato of thuds.


“Buffy, Christ, you’re so bloody gorgeous. Can’t get enough of you.”


He grazed her skin with his blunt teeth and she spiraled into another orgasm. Spike’s arms tightened around her legs when she convulsed and she felt his muscles go taut. The most imperative thing in the world was to see his face as he followed her into oblivion, so she forced her eyes open and watched as his lips parted in a gasp, his face twisting in agonising pleasure.


He called her name, eyes squeezed shut. The sight and feel of him coming was so overwhelming her eyes widened in shock when a sudden orgasm raced through her, followed by another series of smaller explosions.


Spike let her legs fall from his shoulder and sagged against her, breathing as though he had run a marathon, his hips moving slowly as though in an afterthought, allowing them to slowly come down to earth.


“I think… you just killed the other half of my brain.”


He chuckled and leaned back to shoot her a wicked glance, his scarred eyebrow arched in challenge. Then she felt him harden within her walls and her jaw dropped open.


“Seriously? Again? And so soon?”


Spike shrugged and ran his talented tongue over his front teeth. “Love, you’ve been teasing me for what feels like forever. I can guarantee I won’t be done with you for hours.”


Swoonage, how nice to meet you.


******


The bed was broken.


Spike still felt a palpable amount of satisfaction and couldn’t stifle his grin at the memory of it letting out the last squeak before the right side collapsed roughly three hours before sending them tumbling off the side still joined at the hip. And his Buffy hadn’t even blinked. Vixen that she was, she’d giggled and continued to ride him into the ground.


He really loved that woman.


After a six hour shaggathon, Buffy was slowly starting to drift to sleep. He could tell from the way her muscles were relaxing as he caressed her back, her lips that rested against his tasting him slowly and lazily. Not that he was complaining because if he was being honest with himself, she’d pushed him to his limits when it came to vampire stamina. And that was saying something.


They had been going at it practically non-stop, gluttonous and starving for each other with occasional breaks for Buffy to replenish liquids or use the little girls’ room. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon but the bloody birds had been chirping so loud he wanted to maim them before the feathery bastards woke his girl.


Spike gave Buffy’s slack lips a peck and tucked a comforter around her to keep her warm.


TBC

 

A/N: Okay, this was probably the most anticipated chapter, so I'd really like to know if you liked or not. :)

 

 
Chapter twenty-nine
 
A/N: This is it, folks! The last chapter. :) I want to thank all of you who left me a review along the way and gave this story a chance even when it was a WIP. Obviously, you are made of win.

And muchos thanks to my lovely betas All4Spike and BloodyHell! :D
 

Chapter 29


Spike woke up some time later, squinting at the light that was spilling into the room through the thick curtains. Indirect sunlight though, so he was safe as houses as long as he stayed away from the window.


Buffy mumbled something in her sleep, making him grin. She looked gorgeous, all devoid of make-up with her hair sticking out in all directions- courtesy of being shagged six ways from Sunday by yours truly. So he snuggled closer to her and started purring like the lovesick ponce that he was.


At that, Buffy’s heartbeat increased as she slowly stirred awake. “Mmm, hi.”


“Hi yourself.” He pushed her hair away from her forehead, earning him a sleepy smile. “How are you feeling?”


Buffy stretched, drawing his greedy eyes to every shift of her muscles. “Are you sure you’re not a woman? I thought only we asked about feelings and stuff.”


“Oh, I’m all man.” He pulled her tighter against him so she could feel just how manly he really was.


Buffy blushed and hid her face in his neck. She was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.


“Now that we’ve established your manliness, does that mean you won’t make me breakfast?”


“You hungry?”


“Starving.”


He couldn’t cook for shit but she had him wrapped around her little finger so he’d bloody well whip up a fresh croissant if he had to conjure it out of thin air. “What do you fancy then?”


“You.” She batted her eyelashes. “Covered in chocolate ice-cream.”


“Oh, why you little tramp.” With a growl, he kissed her, hands roaming down her back.


Buffy pressed back against his chest with a mewl that shot a dose of lust through his veins. And then her stomach growled, her cheeks turning hot.


Grinning, he nipped at her lips before pulling away and rising to his feet. Her eyes widened as she perused his naked body. If she wanted a show, he’d give her one. With an easy smile, he growled deeply in his throat and stretched his arms above his head, being sure to give her a good gander at his rippling muscles. The fiery look in her eyes had him stirring in all sorts of inconvenient ways. Inconvenient because his girl was hungry and he better move his arse to whip her up some breakfast before he dived back in to quench his own thirst for her body.


With a sigh of regret, Spike bent down to retrieve the jeans and yanked them up his legs then zipped up.


“I told them.”


His hands stilled at the top button as he cast her a questioning glance. “Come again?”


“Giles and Willow and Xander and… Mom. I told them we were together.”


Funny how she could make him speechless with one simple sentence. “Y-you did?”


“They weren’t exactly thrilled but they’ll come around.” She grinned. “I thought Willow’s head would explode when I told her you could make me… you know… even with my clothes on.”


In two seconds flat he was kneeling next to her and kissing her slow and deep. The minx had actually said that. What he wouldn’t give to have seen the expression on the poor little witch’s face.


Buffy leaned away, gazing at him from beneath heavy lids. “Mmm… not that I don’t enjoy this a lot, but food? Please?”


He gave her a soft smile and nuzzled her cheek. Buffy had told her friends and that meant… well, it meant more that she probably realised.


“Thanks,” he mumbled, reluctantly standing up.


She just nodded and tucked the sheets around her naked body. “You can thank me later.” And there was that impish sparkle in her eyes he loved to see. “With a massage or… something.”


“Is that right?” With a wink, he added, “You better take a nap then. You’re gonna need it.”


*******


Blinds in the kitchen drawn with just a minor singe on his wrist, Spike set a few eggs and vegetables on the counter. Just how much did humans eat exactly? He had seen the alarming quantities of food Buffy could consume so he wasn’t sure just how much he should make without offending her. Not to mention how he’d do it considering he’d never cracked an egg in his existence.


Spike clasped an egg in his hand and absently scratched his chest.
 

That was how Joyce found him when she walked in through the back door.


Startled, Spike squeezed the egg and it cracked, the slimy substance running through his fingers to drop to the floor with an audible plop.


They stared at each other, Spike only dressed in his jeans, Joyce in her wrinkled dress, their hair equally tousled. A bit of the cracked egg shell broke off and fell to the floor, rousing Spike out of his shock.


“Uhh… good morning, Mrs. Summers.” He forced his leaden legs to move towards the sink where he turned on the tap and stuck his hand under the flowing water to get rid of the sticky mess. “I’ll clean the floor up, I promise.”


If there was a slight tinge of panic in his voice, who could blame him? He hoped Buffy’s mum didn’t have an axe handy because that could be potentially lethal to his limbs. Although, considering his state of undress, she might aim for different places. Why was it that being around Buffy, threats to his goodies increased tenfold? More importantly, how the hell did they both forget about Buffy’s mum? Must have been because Buffy shagged his brains out. Which inevitably lead him to recall the memory of Buffy’s lips wrapped around his… yeah, probably shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.


Joyce shook her head and finally closed the door behind her. “Buffy didn’t tell me you would be… cooking her breakfast.”


“Uh, right. She didn’t… she didn’t know I’d come around.” If he could blush, his cheeks would be burning. Almost felt like he’d been caught red handed by his own mum.


Joyce dropped her purse on the kitchen island and sat on the stool. “So, you and my daughter? You know, somehow I never imagined her future being with a vampire. I told Angel as much.”


So, straight to the point, was it? He could deal with that. Spike busied himself with soaking a kitchen towel and bending down to wipe the bits of egg from the floor. “Yeah, well, Angel is a tosser. Not saying I’m a saint because we both know better. Hell, even Buffy does. But I can be good for her. Where it counts.”


“So you can give her children? Take her out to the park? Because I love my daughter and I only want what’s best for her,” Joyce said. “I just… I want her to have that bit of normal that was stolen from her the minute she became the Slayer.”


Spike rose to his feet and tossed the rag on the counter. “Normal?” he snorted, not really caring if he offended her. “Normal is overrated. Look around, Joyce.” He spread his arms. “The fucking world is full of not normal. What’s it matter if she has a good boring human boy if he can’t make her happy? I can, and I’ll try my best if it kills me. And if you truly want what’s best for her then you’d try and see that.”


He raked a hand through his hair and clenched his jaw. “Once I figure out how to make a bloody omelet.”


To his surprise, Joyce laughed and stood up before approaching him. If his nose didn’t lie, Joyce sure had fun activities of her own during the night. Good for her. Spike imagined she didn’t get to go out much what with being a single mother and having to take care of Buffy and work at the same time.


“You know, I like you better than I ever liked Angel,” she remarked and cracked two eggs into a bowl so effortlessly it made him feel like an idiot.


“Well, of course you do. I have a sense of humour.”


With a smile, she pushed the vegetables towards him and handed him a knife. “Chop.” Yup, as bossy as Buffy. He was a sucker for Summers women. “Do you love her?”


He almost dropped the knife but gathered himself and started to chop the green peppers. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”


Joyce gazed at him with a serious expression. “Good. Because if you screw up, Buffy showed me how to use a weapon. And I won’t be shy about using it.”


Spike swallowed back the urge to flinch and nodded instead. “Yes, ma’am.”


*******


With a great deal of help from Joyce, Spike managed to cook an omelet that didn’t look half bad. It sort of gave him hope that while Joyce might not be the happiest about him and Buffy being together, she didn’t disapprove either.


After a shower and a change of clothes, Joyce had left the house, telling him she wouldn’t be back until sundown. Spike thought that was a sure sign of her giving them the green light. Probably a good thing she hadn’t walked in on them and noticed the broken bed, which he’d have to fix once he figured out how. But there were more pressing matters right now. Namely a certain Slayer. Not taking advantage of an empty house and naked Buffy would be just wrong, so since he’d converted to be a goody-two-shoes he might as well be really, really good.


With a wicked grin, he pounced on Buffy as soon as she finished her food.


*******


When Spike went to visit the Watcher few days later, he’d fully expected the man to shove a crossbow in his face. He hadn’t been wrong. But dealing with Rupert’s mistrust was a small price to pay to get all Buffy’s loved ones in his corner. Yeah, she’d said she didn’t give a damn whether they agreed with their relationship or not, but Spike was well aware it bothered her. Not that Buffy would admit it even to herself.


So he went to see Rupert and got quite a surprise when he recognised the scent. The scent he’d very clearly already smelt once before. Surrounding Joyce the morning she walked in on his attempt to cook. Who knew good old Rupes had it in him?


They had argued at the door until Giles finally conceded and invited Spike in. No Watcher could resist the promise of a full autobiography from one of the deadliest vampires in history. Humiliating as retelling some of the details from his human life had been, Spike would give anything to forge a bridge between himself and Buffy’s father figure.


In the following months, Spike found out that he and Rupert had quite a lot in common, including their tastes in music and their common goal to keep Buffy safe. While it would be farfetched to call it a friendship, they tolerated each other enough for Spike to be able to attend the little meetings once some demon stirred up troubles on the Hellmouth.


Did he give a piss about being called a traitor by other vamps? Not in the slightest. As long as he got in his spot of violence, he was good. Not to mention watching Buffy kick some demon ass had him hard as a rock every single time. The times he’d get to take her right after fighting were always furious and primal. Vampire and the Slayer locked in a deadly dance, tapping into the darkest parts of what they were.


“Aaaah,” came a girly scream as a newly risen vampire knocked Xander to the ground. With a roll of his eyes, Spike shook off naughty memories starring Buffy bent over a tombstone screaming his name to the high heavens. Instead he casually strode towards the struggle and planted a stake in the vampire’s heart right as he was leaning towards the whelp’s neck. They could barely stand each other but he kind of enjoyed riling the boy up. And likewise.


“He was gonna bite me!” Xander pressed his palm against the side of his neck and shakily rose to his feet.


“Yeah, I’m surprised myself. That’s what I call not having good taste.” Spike smirked and stuck a cigarette in his mouth, flame from the lighter flaring up as he clicked it open.


Xander sputtered and brushed the seat of his pants. “You wish you could bite me!”


“Seems to me like you do, doughnut boy. Any latent homosexual tendencies perhaps? You ought to sweep out that closet you live in.”


“I’m not the one who paints his nails,” Xander pointed out with a haughty glance at Spike’s hands.


Spike exhaled a stream of smoke. “’S called style. Maybe you should look into it, Hawaiian boy.”


“Hey, these shirts are cool! You’d be surprised how quick they sell.” Xander pointed index finger at him that suspiciously smelled of fruit rollups. “Want to buy one?”


Spike grimaced. “No, thanks. I still have an ounce of dignity left.”


“Dignity? What dignity?” Xander chortled and made a whipping sound. “Buffy has you by the short hair.”


“Xander! I’m bored,” Anya exclaimed and walked towards them with a pout. “Let’s go home and have sex. I’ll even use the strap-on like you wanted.”


As he was finishing his fag, Spike lifted his eyebrow, immensely enjoying the violent shade of red Xander was currently sporting.


“A strap-on, you say?” Spike asked Anya.


Her eyes lit up, ignoring Xander’s fumbled protests. “Sometimes it’s fun to switch roles, you know. Besides, I’m really good at dominating.”


“I bet.” Spike sent Xander a wicked glance. “And you said I’m whipped.”


“Oh, whipping can be fun too,” Anya said and looped her arm around Xander’s waist as he just stood there with his shoulders slumped in defeat, waiting for the torture to end.


“What can be fun?” Buffy asked and he wasted no time in dragging her against him and planting a kiss on her lips. Xander made gagging noises, making Buffy snicker against Spike’s lips.


“Ah, you know… just your regular Friday night topics,” Spike said. “Sex toys and such.”


“O-kay. I’m regretting asking now,” Buffy said and licked her lips. And she had that look in her eyes. That look that promised he’d be busy for the next few hours. “Think I’ll do one more sweep.” She glanced at Xander and Anya. “But you guys go home and have fun. Or go to Giles’ and help him and Willow research.”


“We’ll pass,” Anya said and dragged Xander away.


Once they were out of sight, Buffy slipped her hands underneath his duster and trailed down to squeeze his ass.


“I’m hot.”


He nuzzled her neck and sucked at her pulse point. “Yeah, you are.”


“Cool me down?” she asked with a mischief glinting in her eyes. His woman was a goddess.


“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you even… hotter.”


She bit at his neck, the length of her body rubbing against his and he could see her eyes further darkening with that primal deep seated need that always pulled his demon to the brink.


“Do you know that we’ve been together for over seven months now?”


“Mmm… guess time does fly when you’re having fun.”


She laughed and scratched his abdomen through the fabric of his T-shirt.


“You know, Slayer, if I knew just how randy fighting made you, I’d have taken advantage a long time ago.”


“Oh yeah, do you know what I’d have done?’ she whispered into his ear in a husky voice.


“Uhh… what?”


“Punched you in the face.”


She started laughing at his shocked face, twisting away from his arms to flee. Oh hell, she knew her running away triggered his instinct to hunt, to catch her. The scenery flew by as he chased after her, the lusty glances she threw over her shoulder twisting the knots in his belly to a white hot pulse of need.


He was catching up and dashed right after her into an abandoned crypt. It was musty, the air a bit damp and cold as he came to a halt, every sense tuning in on the sounds of her excited breathing. The pounding of her heart. The intoxicating smell of her arousal. She stood there before him, shedding the denim jacket as she rolled her shoulders and let her hair loose to tumble down in long waves.


“Looks like you got me,” Buffy said. “What are you going to do with me?”


Biting back the urge to tackle her, Spike swaggered closer with his thumbs hooked in the loops of his jeans. “Gonna shag you, Slayer.” Just few inches between them now, her breath fanning across his chest. “Make you scream and come until you can’t walk.”


“Someone’s cocky.” Her gaze burned into his. “I don’t think I believe you.”


Playing cat and mouse, was she? Baiting him to prove otherwise? “Well, that means I’ll have to show you just how very wrong you are, won’t I?


With a smirk, he yanked her up against him, his tongue tickling her upper lip. As soon as their lips made contact she parted hers, trying to draw him in. The soft, wet glide of her mouth drove him wild and he couldn’t hold back anymore. The barrier crashed down and he let the lust for her flood his entire being. Their tongues tangled, moans whispered into each other’s mouths as they staggered to the slab of a smooth, marble sarcophagus in the middle of the crypt.


Buffy tilted her head back to allow him free reign over her slender throat, drawing his demon even closer to the surface. Every glance, every gesture was a challenge for him to take her, to make her his. And he’d be double damned if it didn’t turn him on.


He gripped her hips and spun her around, bending her over the stone.


“Is this what you want? Shall I take you just like this?” He inched her skirt over her ass and caressed the smooth flesh.


Her arms stretched in front of her, her fingers slipped across the smooth stone in effort to find purchase. “Spike, please.”


That was about as much as he could take. It was so raw, and the demon in him couldn’t resist the sight of the Slayer offering herself in supplication. Hooking his thumbs in the sides of her lacy knickers, he pulled the flimsy fabric down Buffy’s tanned legs, and sank to his knees to help her step put of them. To savour her sweet flavour right from the source.


God, but she was wet.


He couldn’t wait anymore. Not with her juices lingering on his tongue. His jeans were undone in a flash and he was rising to his feet, nudging her legs to spread even more, right before he pushed inside her in two deep strokes.


The thrum of Buffy’s heartbeat and her quick desperate breaths were a constant echo in his mind, a soundtrack to his every thrust.


Spike’s hands shifted from her hips to her waist to pull her up against his chest so he could roll her top up and over her head. He needed to touch her skin, to feel every shudder passing through her in tandem with the pulse of her wrapping around his unrelenting cock. Letting the top flutter to the floor, Spike swept her hair to the side and tugged at the rings in her ear with his teeth before sucking her earlobe into his mouth. For a moment he let his lips wander down her throat to rest against the wild flutter of her rushing blood, his hands cupping and massaging her breasts. He loved it when she skipped wearing a bra.


Her hand tangled in his hair to tug him closer and the desire to bite and posses her utterly almost overwhelmed him. With one parting lick, Spike pushed her back against the sarcophagus.


Never had he seen a more gorgeous sight. Buffy was a canvas and he the admirer stricken by the red of her passion painted in broad uninhibited strokes tangled with the pure white of her soul and heart. The expanse of her back stretched before him, the golden silk of her skin sliding under his hand as he stroked down her spine.


Despite the animalistic position, his hips took on a slow sexy beat, driving every thought but the need for more out of her head. A bead of sweat gathered at her temple and slid down as she dug her fingers into the marble beneath her.


Spike always knew just where to touch her to stoke the fire, just how fast and how rough to go, and her hips moved of their own volition to meet his increasing thrusts. During times like these, when they were revved up by fighting, sex with him was not only gratification and emotional connection. It was also a way for them to sate the darkness inside, to merge on a supremely primal level.


He quenched her thirst for violence and death stirred up by her being the Slayer, and she quieted down the urges of his demon. When he stroked her back so tenderly in contrast with the now rough rhythm of his hips, all she wanted to do was purr and let him do it for hours.


“More,” she muttered and turned her head to the side, drinking in the sight of his face twisted in pleasure, his dark eyes flashing yellow.


Quickening his pace, he clutched her hip before sliding his hand to the front to tease her clit.


She panted.


He groaned.


Her knees started to tremble as she reached around and squeezed his hip, pleading with her eyes. As nice as this was, they needed more. No words were needed. Spike slowed down to a stop, deeply breathing to calm down as he pulled out and turned her around in his arms.


“Want to see your eyes,” she said and pushed him down to the floor. The duster splayed beneath him as he fell, black spilling around his pale skin.


“Come here,” he urged and yanked her down.


She sank down on his length inch by torturous inch until her thighs rested on his. Still it wasn’t enough and she needed to feel his skin.


“How much… do you like this T-shirt?” Damn, breathing was a serious issue.


“Huh?”


She tore it in half and shuddered when her fingertips finally came in contact with his chest and quivering belly.


“Gonna kill me,” he said and gripped her hips when she renewed the rocking of her hips.


As she stared down at him, flashing between his demon and human guise, all she felt was the almost delirious need to melt into him. They were like puzzles, interlocking and completing each other in every shape and curve. Months, years, hours. She didn’t give a damn how long they had been together. All she knew was Spike had imprinted himself deep into her flesh and soul. He was the one who would always be waiting for her at the end, her other half.


There was just one little thing. Just one. Something she’d wanted him to take.


Hips still moving, Buffy’s upper half slumped forward and she nibbled his jaw.


“Bite me,” she murmured. “Tell me I’m yours.”


His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, searching hers for indisputable truth. Whatever he sought, he must have found because he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her against his lips. The anticipation was excruciating. Every suction of his lips and brush of his tongue just drove her closer to the edge.


His fangs sliced through her skin like a hot knife through butter. The pain didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was being so full of Spike it felt as thought they were one subliminal creature, whose every cell crackled with rapture. And as Spike drew in the first mouthful of her blood, colours burst behind her eyes. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as her eyes slammed shut when the orgasm ripped through her with the force of a rushing train. Her hips jerked frantically up and down and still the tides continued to crash into her as he drank.


Soon Spike pulled his fangs out and slammed her down, her walls spasming around him with such force he couldn’t hold back anymore. With a roar, he came in bursts that left him half-unconscious.


“T-tell me,” she whispered. And he knew exactly what she wanted.


“You’re mine, Buffy.” Saying the words out loud only made it all the more real. The fact they were together and he’d found the woman who loved him with as much intensity as he loved her. That by stumbling drunk to her front porch nearly eight months ago he’d set his own fate in motion.


“I love you,” she said and he banded his arms around her, lulled by the sound of her heartbeat.


“Love you, pet.”


The weight of what she’d started slowly crept into his mind. It wasn’t a claim but it was pretty damn close to how the ritual went and he knew Buffy was aware of it. Knew it meant she was willing to tie their essence together eventually. That she had chosen him. Not bloody Angelus or some college boy. Him.


With her very life coursing through his veins and her flesh still wrapped around him, Spike grinned and drew her into a deep kiss.


Unlife was bloody great.


THE END

 

A/N:  It would mean a lot to me if you let me know your thoughts. :) Whether you read the story as I updated it or or are reading it now as it's finsihed. If not, I'm gonna have to spank you. Or should that be used as an icnentive, you kinky readers you? ;)