There was chocolate in her underwear drawer.

Perhaps the most confusing aspect of it all was the amount of chocolate. It wasn’t a wrapped bar, pushed accidentally into an open drawer during a moment of inattentiveness. Nor was it a bag of smaller candies, tossed inside as some sort of prank or enticement.

Atop of her pile of folded panties lay one single deliberately-placed Hershey’s Kiss.

Buffy’s brow furrowed in confusion as she slipped her fingers around the fragile tip, delicately plucking the candy out of the drawer and holding it up for inspection. For all outward appearances, the Kiss was like any other Kiss – the silver foil covered the entirety of the chocolate and showed no signs of tampering, and the strip of paper waved at her as she moved.

Nothing was out of the ordinary – except, of course, for the fact that she’d found it in her underwear drawer.

Baffled, Buffy placed the Kiss carefully on top of her bureau and, keeping one eye on the mysterious chocolate, proceeded to inspect the remaining drawers, hoping to find another piece of the newly-presented puzzle. When her search came up empty, she turned to scan critical eyes over the rest of her room. Her actions were to no avail; the only piece of chocolate in her room was the one single Kiss.

She stared at the piece of chocolate for moments of stolen time, her gaze broken by a knock on her door and the unmistakable sound of her Tara’s soft voice, informing her that both breakfast and the rest of the household were ready and waiting for her in the kitchen.

Sighing, Buffy called out in response and pulled her pajama top over her head, her eyes glued to the Kiss on top of her bureau the entire time she dressed.

------------------

True to Tara’s word, breakfast was spread across part of the kitchen counter, with Dawn and her newly-adopted Wiccan roommates huddling on stools near the empty end, deeply involved in both their breakfasts and their idle conversations. They quieted when they realized that Buffy had entered the kitchen and had made her way over to the impromptu breakfast buffet, and Dawn stood and walked to envelop her sister in an enthusiastic hug.

“Good morning!” she chirped, her face splitting in a smile that reached past her eyes. Moving her gaze to the food, then back to her sister, she added, “We decided it would be fun to have kind of a breakfast buffet. I helped!”

Buffy blinked, and placed a bagel on the empty plate sitting next to the spread. She tampered down on the urge to ask the question floating in her head -- does “fun” include putting chocolate in my underwear drawer? -- replying instead with, “It’s good to know that you didn’t get the ‘bad at cooking’ part of the Summers gene pool.”

The smile immediately fell from Dawn’s face, and her brow crinkled as traces of despair began to fill her eyes, and she shuffled quickly past her sister and out of the kitchen. Buffy watched silently as Willow and Tara bowed their heads in quick and quiet conference before rising and walking out of the kitchen, each mumbling excuses for their sudden departure.

Buffy looked around the emptied kitchen in confusion before placing her plate back on the empty counter and scooping up the remnants of three abandoned breakfasts, carting them over to the sink and scraping the uneaten food into the trash can. Her mind played over the entire time they had all been in the kitchen – brief as it might have been – in attempt to try and gain some understanding as to why her sister and friends had suddenly left.

It hit her as she placed the final dish in the dishwasher and pushed it shut. It wasn’t what she’d said in response to Dawn’s cheery greeting; it was how she’d said it. In her mind, she had assumed that the then-present company would have taken her statement for the harmless quip that it was; instead, she realized that the tone of her voice had been much more harsh than playful. Just the way she’d been for the past several weeks.

She could hardly be asked to be as bright and chipper as Dawn, though. Buffy had been torn out of Heaven by friends who could never know where she’d been. When she’d first been capable of lucid thought, after her resurrection, she had been adamant in her decision that no one would know; her conviction, however, faltered when she realized the strain of bearing such a secret on her shoulders. So a week before, she’d told Spike, and was certain that her secret would remain safe with him.

Telling the vampire had begun to relieve the heavy burden she carried, and she knew that coming clean to her friends would only help facilitate her transition back into living, every day life. But she was still steadfast that no one was to know; in some sort of perverse way, she wanted the suffering to be hers alone, and not something else for her friends to steal from her.

So she would not tell them. She had already forgiven their selfishness for tearing her from the only peace she’d ever truly known, but that they expected her weeks later to be cheery and well-adjusted to her newly-alive status – to walk through each day as though nothing had ever happened – was asking too much from her.

Buffy stared at her own abandoned breakfast in contemplation before turning and walking out of the kitchen, intent on grabbing her purse from her bedroom and spending the day in town. She hadn’t the slightest idea how she would pass the hours, but she knew for certain that she had no intentions of returning to the house until well after her nightly patrol.

She just didn’t want to deal with her housemates for a while.

------------------

The chocolate was gone when she returned later that evening.

She hadn’t noticed until she had begun to change into her pajamas, but the Kiss she’d placed on top of her bureau was suddenly absent, with not even a balled-up discarded wrapper to indicate that it had simply been enjoyed by an intruder of the roommate kind.

It wasn’t until Buffy pulled open her underwear drawer that she found it. Meticulously-placed on top of a pair of folded underwear, along with two others, wrapped in different-colored foil.

Buffy plucked the original silver-wrapped Kiss from its mates and in a mimicry of her actions earlier that morning, stared at it for a length of time before pursing her lips and nodding, making a decision. Turning her fingernails to the tip of the wrapper, she carefully peeled away the foil before dropping the treat onto her tongue, sucking contentedly, letting the melting chocolate slide thickly down her throat.

As she bit into and swallowed the rest of the chocolate, Buffy allowed a tiny smile to tug at her lips: the first since her return to life, or her mockery thereof.

It felt good.

------------------

A week, and several more, and Buffy began to come back to herself.

It continued to be a slow and tedious process, being thrust back into a life she had no business leading, but for the past several weeks she had honestly tried, as opposed to simply going through the motions of day-to-day.

Willow strutted around with an undeserved sense of pride, masking the outrage that she still had not been thanked for restoring Buffy to life. And while Buffy wanted nothing more than to yell at her friend, to scream that she’d been happy, and safe and secure, she stuck by her convictions and kept her mouth shut. Willow had been of no help, and the rest of her friends hadn’t, either.

It had been the chocolate.

Since that first day, when she’d found the single Kiss in her underwear drawer, Buffy hadn’t gone a single day without finding some sort of chocolate stashed away for her to find. In her bedside table, on top of her pillow or nestled between her sheets, lacing the pockets of the blouses in her closet, or propped against her favorite pair of boots. She never found chocolate hidden outside of the sanctuary of her room, and most of her was glad: the hidden treats were her secret, and her friends could not take it away from her.

She never ate all the chocolate she found – for there was usually too much – but it didn’t stop her from trying, and now, weeks after she’d found the first Kiss, her gaunt face had begun to fill out, and her skin had lost its pale and sickly hue. It had started with the chocolate, but she had begun to eat regularly, and her body had nearly recovered to its state before she’d gone to Heaven.

And most importantly, Buffy had begun to smile again, to laugh. Smiles which had once only been drawn from the taste of chocolate on her lips now emerged in front of her friends, and every so often, she found herself indulging in a laugh.

Her friends, of course, had taken the credit, thinking that they must have done something right to restore Buffy back to her original state. And as long as the chocolate kept appearing in her room, she could live with her friends’ mistakes.

------------------

Another week, and a handful of days, and she returned to her room from a patrol ended early to find Spike climbing through her bedroom window with a bag clutched in one hand. He froze, and as his eyes met hers she could detect within their blue depths a twinge of guilt.

“Slayer,” he breathed, and shifted, attempting to hide the bag behind his back. His free hand ran nervously through his hair as he managed, “I…you--you’re back early.” A flinch accompanied his arm dropping back down to his side.

Buffy ran a critical eye over his tensed form and stepped towards him. “And it’s probably a good thing,” she replied. “Mind telling me why you’re in my room?”

Although their speeds were evenly matched, Buffy wanted her answer more than Spike wanted to hide it, and she snatched the bag from his fingers and began to root through it. Inside lay a the contents of half a bag of Hershey’s Kisses, a handful of bite-sized Snickers, several assorted chocolate bars, and a single chocolate rose.

Spike huffed out a sigh and ran a hand over his neck, his eyes trailing down to the carpet. “I can explain,” he offered lamely. At her silence, he rambled in continuance, “You told me…that day, you told me where you’d been, and I—Buffy, you were so unhappy and I…I just wanted you to—smile.”

Buffy stared into the bag of chocolates before reaching in and plucking out a single Kiss, she dropped the bag onto the floor, cradling Spike’s hand in her own and placing the Kiss on the center of his palm.

Spike looked up at her, then at the chocolate in her hand, his brow furrowing in confusion. “’s for you, pet,” he murmured. “But I can stop if--”

His words were cut off by the enthusiastic pressing of her lips on his, and he groaned at the feeling of her tongue begging for entrance into his mouth. The shock passed in a moment as he growled and raised his hands to tangle in her hair, pressing his hips firmly against hers, allowing his erection to seek out her answering heat.

She tore her lips from his and gasped for air, shivering as Spike trailed a feather-light touch up her arms.

“Kitten?” he asked quietly, ducking in attempt to meet her eyes.

She looked up, and Spike sucked in an unnecessary breath at the sight of her swelling pout and flushed cheeks. His heart nearly jerked back to life as he saw the smile grow across her lips and fill her lustful eyes.

“Spike,” she breathed, as she ran her hands down the front of his shirt, tugging at the hem and drawing it over his head. Her heated touch burned his skin, and left little doubt in his mind that this was exactly what she wanted.

The familiar smirk settled on his face as he pushed her hands off of his chest, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her jeans, and shoving them down her legs, dropping to his knees as he went. Pushing at the inside of her thigh to get her to spread them, he began to tongue her wetness through her panties, reveling in the scent of her intensified arousal from his actions.

“Shouldn’t wear these, pet,” he murmured, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her panties and yanking them down to join her abandoned jeans. Placing a kiss on the soft curls he revealed, he added, “Like you better this way.”

“Oh God,” Buffy gasped as his lips returned to her clit, sucking insistently. Her fingers twisted in his hair as she thrust her hips unabashedly against his face, moaning as he thrust two fingers into her hot depths.

“Christ, Slayer,” he groaned, dancing his tongue across her swollen clit and scissoring his fingers inside her wet folds. “You’re so hot. Gonna burn me alive, you are.” And as her gasps sounded musically in his ears and her pussy clenched tightly around his fingers in the wake of her impending orgasm, he added, “And there’s no sodding way I’d rather go.”

Buffy tugged at his hair, forcing him back to his feet. Her lips caught his, her tongue catching traces of herself on them, and her fingers turned to the waistband of his jeans, desperate to feel the vampire before her in his entirety.

“Inside me,” she panted, as she pushed the denim down his legs and wrapped a small hand around his cock. “Want to feel you inside me.”

Spike’s answering growl sent shivers running across her skin as he tore her shirt and bra from her body and shoved her onto the bed before she’d even drawn a single breath. Pinning her body beneath his, Spike trailed a possessive touch up the side of her thigh before running his hands across her breast, squeezing at one as he ran his tongue around the nipple of the other.

“Spike,” she moaned, and she shifted below him, cradling his hips between her legs. “Please.”

“’ve got you,” he breathed, his hand abandoning her breast to position his cock against her wet heat, thrusting inside of her in one long stroke. His awed pant was answered by her own, and her fingernails dug into his back as he began to move.

Hips locked and bodies writhing, both slayer and vampire became lost in the world they’d created around them, finally broken away as Buffy cried out in release and Spike allowed her name to tumble from his lips worshipfully as he came.

------------------

Buffy woke to the strange feeling of something scraping lightly against her skin. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked down to see Spike running the chocolate rose over the length of her arm. His gaze met hers as he stopped his movements, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t have a real one,” he said, shrugging. “Had to improvise.”

Spike’s mouth pulled into a satisfied grin at the sound of her laughter, and he leaned down to catch her lips with his, nibbling at her bottom lip as he moved to cover her body with his.

Tangling her fingers in his hair, Buffy broke the kiss by pulling gently on the blonde strands, staring into his confused eyes and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before asking, “Why did you put the chocolate in my underwear drawer? I mean, I understand why you hid chocolate in my room, and I love that you did, but…why my underwear drawer?”

Spike’s familiar smirk resurfaced as he answered, “That was more for me. Thought it was the closest I’d get. Never been so bloody happy to be wrong.”

Buffy’s hands fell from his hair to wrap around his neck as she pulled him towards her for another kiss. “Pig,” she murmured against his grinning lips.

“Slayer,” he retorted, sliding a finger into her depths, savoring the moan that fell from her lips, and if the look in her eyes was any indication, he reveled in the fact that whatever undefined path they’d just embarked upon was one that would continue.

He would ask her about it later. For now, he had a girl to satisfy, and he was craving the sound of his name wrought from her lips.


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A/N: Title taken from Wonka’s combination from the Gene Wilder film. Because when I think chocolate, I think Wonka. :)

Written for the lj-community 20_hot_prompts, for the prompt “chocolate” (obviously :D). In addition, dedicated to HollyDB, who made me a wonderful layout for my livejournal, as well as gave me a collage that has inspired another story (I’m still kind of mad at her for that one, considering that I have seventeen more prompts to write as well as two “Art Before Fic” challenges, Chirality, and another fic idea that’s been bouncing around in my head…but I’ll get over it).

I do so love your reviews; please take a moment to leave one!