Awakening from her healing sleep, Buffy snuggled contentedly into the body curled around her. She smiled to herself as he murmured to himself before trying to move closer—an impossible task, really, without actually crawling inside her skin. She drew back and watched his eyes move with his dreams, a slight smirk alighting upon his lips, and joy filled her chest. This was a sight that she had resigned herself to never seeing again, and honestly, one that she had never fully indulged in. She didn’t know how it happened, but she decided that in her own little world, his reappearance—even if their reunion had been delayed by both vampires’ ginormous egos—was a gift to both of them from the Powers That Be.
 
She traced his lips, smirking when his mouth twitched. She turned her gaze lower, visualizing the broad shoulders and defined chest that were hidden from her gaze by the hateful t-shirt covering his lean frame. The shirt rose a little at the bottom, exposing a strip of pale flesh. She tentatively ran her fingers along it, desperate to touch him, but unwilling to awaken him. The skin along his waist was resilient, and she pushed up his shirt just a little so that she could lay her hand across his abdomen in a delicate caress. Her thumb brushed the button of his jeans, and she lingered before moving to squeeze his hip, her fingers digging into the muscles of his ass just a little. Her hand remained there, rhythmically squeezing, as she allowed her thoughts to wander.
 
She had come so close to losing it all. If Vi hadn’t called her, if she had called Giles or Willow first… Buffy had no illusions that Giles and Willow would have let her know—they may have kept the whole thing from her in an effort to ‘spare’ her from the ‘agony’ of seeing Angel. Again, always, they thought they knew best, and chances of them applauding her decision to be with Spike—or even respecting it—weren’t high. Angel had done his best to keep them apart, obviously, and Spike himself, the insecure ass that he was, didn’t help.
 
She had devoted so much thought to his memory since losing him that she could barely remember a time that she didn’t appreciate everything that he was, but she knew that she would have some convincing to do. Grinning in anticipation, she thought about some of the ways that she could persuade him to believe that she had absolutely decided that he was worth everything.
 
She shuffled closer to him again before realizing that her clothing was stiff with blood. ‘Eeewww!’
 
Moving as gingerly as possible so as to not wake her lover—and how she loved that title—she stretched her limbs, checking for residual soreness. Feeling nothing but the pleasant tingle of well rested muscles, she cautiously prodded the skin beneath her bandages. Finding nothing, she carefully sat up, hunching over and twisting her back to check for any internal pain. Smiling in satisfaction, she contemplated the speed at which her healing was taking place. It was definitely getting faster—that first time had taken her days to heal, and she knew she’d only been asleep for a few hours this time.
 
Buffy grimaced at the pull of dried blood, and placing a light kiss on Spike’s brow, left him sleeping. She glanced at him one last time to make sure he wasn’t waking up before stepping into the adjoining bath, intent on cleanliness.
 
She flicked on the light in the en suite, squinting against the sudden glare of naked bulb in the whiteness of the bathroom. Buffy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and grimaced at the horror show image. Although she logically knew that A, Spike had already seen her like this—she had, after all, awoken in his bed, with him in it—and B, Spike would not have cared anyway—vampire, duh—she was glad that she had the opportunity to prettify herself, at least a little. She had plans. Big ones.
 
She leaned into the shower and twisted the knobs, hoping that there was still hot water despite the Slayer brigade. Standing once more, she stripped the soiled bandages and the torn and bloody clothing from her body, checking the now-absent wound in her chest once more. It was unmarred. She had mourned the rapid healing when it first appeared, knowing that it meant she would be even more difficult to kill—not that she was suicidal, really, but heaven would not come to those who could not die. Of course, that was before she realized that Spike was back. Her heaven lived within him, everything and everyone else be damned.
 
Stepping under the stinging stream of water, she was relieved to realize that it was hot. Either the Hyperion had adequate heating, or the Slayers hadn’t started cleaning up. Or maybe she really had been asleep that long. Regardless, she quickly took advantage, stealing Spike’s shampoo from the shelf in front of her and lathering her hair. She rinsed and conditioned her hair before grabbing the body wash and bath poof--’must remember to tease Spike.’ She watched the water swirling the drain turn rust with her blood before finally running clear.
 
Stepping out, she wrapped a towel around her body. She was pleased to find a hotel style hair dryer alongside Spike’s hair products. She didn’t have her lotion or makeup, but decided that it really wasn’t worth leaving Spikes suite to retrieve her toiletries. After drying her hair, she again checked her reflection. Her eyes were a touch tired, the stress from the last year still showing, and her skin was less than the golden tan that had been the heritage of her California girl days. She pinched her cheeks to add color, then blew air through her lips in frustration. She was dawdling, a little fearful of facing Spike’s questions, though she knew that he would be accepting of her, no matter. She straightened her shoulders, and with a long last look at the mirror, opened the door to the bedroom, allowing the remaining steam to come billowing out.
 
*~*~*
 
Spike was dreaming. Buffy, his slayer, his golden goddess, was with him. Her scent filled his sinuses, her heartbeat echoed in his chest. His mind’s eye was filled with ephemeral images of her, laughing, loving, fighting, fucking, oh god, so hot. Blood. He frowned. She was bleeding, but no, she’s okay. She’s okay. Kissing. Kissing the girl, oh god, her lips caressing his, nerve endings firing, breath hitching—his or hers? His hands on her back, lower, lower, grabbing the sweet curves of her arse, lifting her, her legs around his waist, kissing again. Her tongue tracing his lips, softly. Tickles.
 
Wait.
 
What?
 
His lips twitched with sensation, and he woke to find Buffy gazing at his chest with a… fascinated look in her eyes. He quickly shut his eyes again, careful not to breathe, eager to see what she would do.
 
He almost groaned when her fingers stretched beneath his shirt, lifting it up. His cock filled with a hot rush of blood when she brushed over the fastening of his jeans, and he did groan, ever so slightly, when her hand left his buttons to rest instead on his hip. He cracked his eyes open again, almost panting, when her sweet hand started grasping his hip. He was so, so tempted to shift, let her pumping hand fall to his cock instead, but he resisted. She was obviously lost in thought, frowning slightly, and besides, he had thought that this would be her deathbed only hours earlier. He closed his eyes again, breathing deeply, but only smelled dried blood, nothing fresh or flowing.
 
She moved closer to him briefly, but he heard her soft exclamation of disgust before she moved away again, and he knew that she realized that she was covered in blood. He kept his eyes closed and his chest still as she maneuvered her way out of bed, obviously doing her best not to disturb him.
 
How could she possibly think that he could sleep through that little grope-fest? Dozy bint.
 
Spike cracked an eye as he heard the shower turn on, frowning over the thought that his girl, although mortally wounded mere hours before, was healthy enough to leave the bed with no assistance. Although he was ecstatic at the possibilities that led to—namely, the idea that she would never again die and therefore leave him mourning her loss—he was simultaneously angered and saddened by the conclusion that she would never again be wrapped in the arms of Heaven. Lost in the dichotomy of his thoughts, he was startled when she flopped down on the bed beside him, wrapped in a towel. Her hair was dry and styled, but her face was make-up free. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
 
“Deep thoughts?”
 
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re all healed up, then?”
 
“Yep. Good as new. Some of those things I wanted to talk to you about.” She looked down, tracing the design on the bed covers. “I’m not sure where to begin…”
 
“Dawn told me there was an accident,” he prodded.
 
“Um, yeah. Car accident. I was hit, smashed my head in.” He flinched, and she grabbed his hand in comfort. “I don’t really remember it, actually, it happened so fast. I was… lost in thought… just walking and thinking about…” you “…stuff. And the next thing I knew, a week had passed, and I had a headache the size of Angel’s ego.” He smirked appreciatively. “We don’t know a lot, really. Giles and Willow think different things. He thinks it’s because Willow messed up the resurrection spell. She thinks it’s a slayer thing.” Buffy shrugged. “The only thing that they agree on is that it’s getting faster. And they’re right. At this rate…”
 
“At this rate, you’ll be… immortal.”
 
“Yeah.” She pursed her lips and blew out her air, rolling her shoulders. “It’s been rough. And scary. And lonely.” She smiled sadly. “I realized a little after it happened, that it would mean that I was going to lose everyone I loved. They’d all grow old and die, and I wouldn’t. For the first time, I understood why Angel left me.”
 
She grinned at his growl. “Bloody wanker.”
 
“But, I’ve been learning to cope. Talking to people. And now, I have you.”
 
“Too right.”
 
She grinned and moved so that she was snuggled beside him. “I love you.”
 
He squeezed her tightly. “I love you, pet. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.” He paused, trying to think of a way to bring up the Immortal without sounding like a huge prat. Luckily, his girl seemed to know what he was thinking, and brought the pain in his arse up for him.
 
“The Immortal, I think, has been the most helpful. I wanted so badly to talk to someone that had made it, survived for centuries without going crazy. Most of them out there are pure evil. Not that I really think that he’s not, but the only other one that I really knew was Angel. I was so mad at him, though. And that was before I knew that he kept you from me. Besides, he’s kinda nice to hang around once you get past his enormous ego. In a totally platonic way, of course.”
 
Spike smirked. “As if there was any doubt.”
 
“You know, you’re kinda nice to hang around with, too.”
 
“In a not-so-platonic-way?”
 
She smiled and brushed her lips against his. “In a very un-platonic way.” Deepening the kiss, she slipped the bath towel that she had been wearing off, leaving her nude to his appreciative eyes. She smiled and began removing his clothing, laughing as he growled when she moved to make room to maneuver.
 
He caught her waist and rolled her under him when she’d removed his vestments. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
 
“I think that I won’t be if you don’t get on with the anti-platonic part soon.”
 
He snickered before nipping at her lip. Her breathing quickened as he began moving down her body. His body was rumbling with a constant purry-growly sound, and she longed to push the throbbing, buttery need between her legs against him.
 
Her scent called to him, the arousal perfuming the air doing more to settle his concerns than anything words and actions combined. He flattened his tongue against the protrusion of her hip bone, tasting the skin, already lightly salted despite her recent shower. Buffy. She carded her fingers through his hair and arched her hips in invitation, but he moved his head back up, past the junction of her thighs, to nip at the flesh below her belly button. His hands caressed her sides, leaving trails of goosebumps.
 
She tugged his shoulders, silently asking for his lips against hers. Their mouths met, parted, and her tongue slipped past his lips, teasing his retracted fangs. She shivered, smiling, at the resulting growl. Her hands ran across the muscles in his neck and shoulders, testing the texture, feeling the cords across the back of his neck as he lifted his head to gaze at her.
 
His eyes swung down to the unblemished skin between her breasts, and he tentatively touched her breastbone. The skin looked and felt completely normal, belying the image of her pierced and bleeding body that threatened to blur his vision. She trapped his hand against her chest, pushing his palm down over her heart, which thrummed reassuringly. She reached for his other hand, allowing his unsupported body to rest against her, and gently bit his palm. His eyes swung up to meet hers, pupils widening, blue bleeding towards gold, and growled when her teeth nipped against the nerve endings in his hand and then his middle finger. He took a panting breath when she slipped the digit inside her mouth, against her tongue, and sucked.
 
‘Finally,’ she thought, as she watched him struggle against vamping out and pushed away from her and down her body. She lifted her hips again, hoping he would take the hint this time, and was gratified when one hand curled around her hip, bringing her pelvis up to his face. He buried his nose against her and breathed in, moaning. A whine rose from her throat and he looked up, clear blue eyes sparkling. “Come on,” she pleaded with him, causing a smirk and his tongue to curl against his teeth. “Please, Spike!”
 
With a huff of laughter that sounded suspiciously like ‘bossy’, he took pity on her and brought his mouth down, licking a long path along her slit before stabbing it into her folds. Her back arched and her hands fisted in the bed sheets. Thighs trembled, the tendons in her neck corded, her head thrashed to the side, and her chest heaved as she panted in time to the rhythm that he set. A keening wail broke from her throat as he replaced his tongue with long fingers, tapping against the spongy flesh within her clenching vaginal walls and moved his mouth up to cover her clit.
 
He was unrelenting, sucking, allowing his fingers to dance inside her, as she shattered around him. Her entire world narrowed to the vampire laying between her shaking thighs, her orgasm unremitting, waves crashing over her again and again without recession. Her hands gripped his hair, pushing and tugging, unsure if she needed less or more when the final flood came over her without warning, leaving her body limp and sated. He lifted his mouth from her and gently removed his fingers. His head rested on her thigh as his hand softly petted her mound, calming her quivering muscles.
 
She came back to herself, stretching and dislodging his weight. He crawled up the bed, lusty eyes taking in her flushed breasts and tangled hair. She wriggled out from under him and he threw himself down in her vacated spot, smirking at her as she leaned over him. She wrinkled her nose at his overly smug expression, and reached down to grasp his firm cock, determined to wipe all thought from his brain.
 
As she looked towards the hardened flesh in her hand, Spike’s eyes rolled up and his mouth fell slack. He shoved one hand under the pillow under his head, nails digging into the soft material, and allowed the other to trail over her hair, brushing it back over her ear and giving him a full view of her actions. She ran her tongue over his inner thigh, teasing and tasting, as her fingers lightly traced the veins on his cock. Her hand moved down, lifting the heavy, full weight of his testicles, and she darted her tongue out to lap at the pre-come beading at the tip. She moved fully between his thighs, pushing them wider, and rested her weight on her elbows. She heard him panting above her, his voice whispering her name, as she allowed her hand to continue to cradle his balls, and her other hand to firmly grasp the base of his erection. Her mouth moved over him, tongue prodding his foreskin, and began to move over him. She let her teeth drag over him, ever so delicately, and he groaned and thrust up, immediately trying to still himself, keeping his movements in check.
 
She ran her tongue over the glans, caressing, but denied him the strong suction that he craved. Instead, she built a slow burn, relishing breaking his control as his buttocks began steadily clenching and releasing, unconsciously attempting to increase the sensation. When the hand at her head joined the rhythm, changing from a caress to a demand, she looked at him from under her lashes. His head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth clenched. The muscles of his abdomen rippled as he strained up, down, searching for something, unable to stop himself and unwilling to stop her.
 
She took pity on him and refocused her attention on his cock, increasing the suction and motion, allowing his head to brush the back of her throat. His voice became louder, words tangled together in a constant stream of Buffy, love, yes, sweetheart, like that, Buffy, oh God Buffy, my love, fuck yes.’ His hips shifted in an unconscious thrust, and she swallowed around him. His body froze, his hand shook against her head, and his orgasm erupted, sending a stream of semen down her throat. She swallowed all of the bitter fluid that he gave her, continuing to give him light pressure, letting him slowly come down from his peak.
 
When his hand released its grip, she slithered her way back up his body, stopping to wipe her lips before coming face to face with him. He smiled lazily and pulled her in for a kiss, tasting both of them, the mixture incredibly erotic for the vampire, who relied on his senses so heavily. He leaned back, fingers, stroking her neck and jaw, and whispered his love to her. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his, lips curved up with happiness and completion.
 
His fingers moved to her side, thumb rubbing the ribs on her side below her breast. The thought that she was skinny crossed his mind without voice, and he determined to himself that he would take care of herself even if she wouldn’t. He watched, captivated, as her nipple pebbled, and leaned down to take it in his mouth. His hands moved over her body, squeezing, testing, and holding her. He kissed his way up her chest, listening to her heartrate to increase as his lips skimmed her throat. His blunt teeth nipped, almost without thought, against the side of her neck, and he knew in that moment that he would one day claim her.
 
Once again aching with want, feeling hollow but with the only possible solution readily available, Buffy framed Spike’s face and placed her lips upon his in a loving kiss. “Spike, please, need you inside me.” His breath shuddered as he moved over her. He covered her body with his, grasping her waist and lined himself up with her.
 
He smiled, love shining in his eyes, as his cock slipped within her wet folds and he set a gentle rhythm. Her arms held him tightly, her legs moving up to hug his hips. Her head tilted back, presenting him once again with the column of her throat. He didn’t hesitate to latch onto it, nibbling gently as she stretched and murmured beneath him. As the pressure rose, she lifted her head and latched her teeth on his neck over his still artery, causing him to groan and his hips to jerk erratically. The sudden change brought forth the onset of the orgasm for which she had been waiting and she bit down hard, breaking his flesh and causing his blood to fill her mouth. She swallowed quickly and growled“Mine!” into his ear.
 
He nodded frantically, hips still moving while his demon showed its true face.  “Yours! Oh, god, Buffy, I’m yours, forever.” She released the breath she hardly knew that she had been holding and turned her head to give him free access to her neck.
 
“I love you, Spike. Claim me back?”
 
Not stopping to ask if she was sure, because he felt that she was, felt the power of her love, and not pausing to wonder where she had even learned about claims in the first place, he roared and bit. Sweet, sweet blood ran down his throat, and he licked the wound tenderly, claiming her in action before he claimed her in words. “You’re mine, Buffy. Mine, forever.”
 
“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “Yes.”
 
As her words hit his ear, he let go of the last bit of control he had, coming inside her. Their shared emotions bounced across the surface of their spent bodies, their hearts weaving together in an unbreakable bond as the claim took hold.
 
“I love you. I love you, so much.”
 
TBC