Spike watched from behind a crypt as the Slayer took on two vamps. He wasn't worried; the vamps were no threat to her. She played with them, punching, kicking, teasing. Watching her was like watching an artist paint. He remembered the taste of her, the feel, her scent. He remembered sinking his fangs into her sweet white neck, and he closed his eyes as another part of him reminded him that he wanted to sink something else into her. He recalled how she had shivered when he had blown his breath into her ear; how he had caught the slight scent of arousal when he had licked the blood off of her neck. It was making him insane. He was the Slayer of Slayers, but this one...this one he didn't want to slay. Oh no, this one he wanted to...

One vamp got in a lucky punch that knocked her down, but she flipped back up and swinging around, caught him with a kick to the face that sent him flying into a headstone. Tired of her sport, she quickly staked the second vampire, then turned her attention to his fallen comrade. As the vamp struggled to his feet, she kicked him in the head and shoved the stake into his chest. After brushing vampire dust off of her clothes, she twirled her stake like a movie gunslinger and returned it to the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back.

Spike chuckled at the theatrics and Buffy went still. Head up and alert like a deer sensing danger, she looked around her.

"Spike?"

He didn't answer, but moved from his hiding place. Walking slowly, sensuously towards her, he looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Looks like you're no worse for wear, Slayer," he mocked.

She drew out her stake and readied herself for his attack. There was no reason why "the dance" shouldn't begin this time. Tonight would prove either his or her last night on Earth.

"I'm fine, Spike. All healthy and my blood level's topped off.

"Good to hear, Slayer. I hate it when I'm still hungry after the main course."

"You won't have to worry about being hungry ever again after tonight, Spike. You'll just be more dust for the wind to blow away."

"Pretty tough talk, Slayer, considering how you've never been able to best me on your own yet."

Buffy flushed with anger. "I'm stronger now than I've ever been, Spike. I'm more than a match for you."

Smiling, Spike began to circle her, beginning the first steps of the dance.

"Oh, I've always known you're a match for me, luv," he said. "I'm just not sure what exactly we're matched for."

Buffy stiffened. She knew what he was implying, but she denied it to herself and to him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Spike? Our match is quite simple, I'm the Slayer and you're the Slayee."

At that, Spike chuckled. Leaning in he teased in a low, growly voice, "Oh I think we're matched in more ways than that, Slayer. I can smell it you see."

Buffy involuntarily took a step back. "I don't know what you're talking about. In fact, I don't care what you're talking about. I think it's time I killed you." With those words she attacked. Spinning, she kicked out just missing him as he jumped back. The fight was on. Punch, kick, jab, flip, roll. She was deadly serious, he toyed with her. The finale, when it came, was quick and unexpected. One minute, he was retreating from her attack, the next he was on top of her, once again restraining her. She looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes. He merely grinned down at her with smug assurance.

"I told you you've never been able to best me on your own, Slayer." She struggled, but once again he controlled her with pressure of arms and thighs. "Beg me not to kill you," he whispered in her ear.

"Go to hell," she ground out.

His chuckle irritated her, made her furious. "Oh, I'm going there all right, Slayer. Just not tonight." With that, he started nibbling at her earlobe, her neck. Buffy felt a white hot flame of desire shoot through her. What the hell was he doing to her?

"I smell it, Buffy," his voice was low and throaty, full of want and heat. She started struggling again.

"No! Get off of me, Spike! Get off!"

He leaned back, confident of his effect on her. "Do you really want me off of you, pet, or maybe closer?"

Leaning down again, he trailed soft kisses over her eyes, down her cheeks and then lightly brushed his lips against hers. She gasped, involuntarily opening her mouth. It was the chance he was looking for. Quickly he placed his mouth over hers, tongue invading, drawing out a response from her. She moaned softly, tried to move her head but ended up returning his kiss. Their tongues dueled. At some point he had released her hands, and she was running them through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back. His hands had made their way to her breasts, teasing her nipples to hard peaks. He was rubbing himself against her; she was thrusting her hips up to him. She had never felt anything like this. It was overwhelming, consuming, almost painful in its intensity.

It was his voice that broke the spell. A low soft "God, I want you, Slayer."

Buffy stiffened realizing exactly what they were doing, what she was doing. Placing her hand on his shoulders she gave a shove and threw him off of her.

Scrambling to her feet, she went into attack stance ready to renew the fight. This time she was determined she would kick his ass. No more games and certainly no more defeats.

Spike laughed at her. "What's the matter, Slayer. Afraid you want me as much as I want you?"

"You're a pig, Spike. I don't want you. I would never want you."

"'S right? Funny, didn't seem that way to me when you were grinding your hot little pussy against me."

Buffy gasped at his crudeness and swung out, landing a kick on his chest, knocking him back. Spike staggered but quickly came at her. A punch caught her on the face, but she quickly countered with her own fists. Neither gave quarter. It was Spike's mistake that ended the fight this time. His foot slipped on uneven ground and Buffy smashed him into a headstone, stunning him.

Quickly she straddled him, stake poised over his heart pressing into his flesh. He looked up at her with surprised eyes. Then a mocking smile curled over his lips.

"Well, Slayer. Looks like you win after all. Guess if I gave you enough chances, you were bound to win sooner or later."

Buffy just narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, Spike. Too bad for you that I don't feel the need to give you another chance to try and kill me."

With that Buffy began to press the stake further into his chest.