Slayer For Sale Part 2


Buffy finally opened her eyes and saw a familiar bleached head bobbing in the crowd as he strutted to the payment window. She could picture his self-satisfaction in her mind’s eye, and she shivered at the thought of what he might want to do.

She looked at the Gren’oth down in front of the platform, his jaws still covered in drool. Could be worse.

At least she would be unchained from the platform. That was of the good. Naked Slayer on a platform was badness all around in her book.

The friendly demon led Spike back to the platform to claim his property. She took a tiny golden key to the manacles around Buffy's wrist, and after unchaining her from the platform, once again locked her wrists to them and handed the key to Spike. “Now, these are enchanted. Spelled them myself, made them strong enough to hold a Slayer. They go with her. You can take her to the viewing room whenever you’re ready, if you wanna make some cash.”

“Thanks, Edie. I’ll think about that option,” he replied, before giving the demon a nod and she walked away. He looked down at the chain in his hand and followed the long loop to the locked wrists of the Slayer. It was only natural to glance at the rest of her, and he was thankful that vampires didn’t blush. When he reached hazel eyes, sparking with anger and swimming with her humiliation, he lowered his voice and tipped his head.

“Have to play along a little bit, pet. There are forms to be observed. Things we have to do,” he amended at her confused look. “We have to walk through the crowd, and—”

“I’m not walking anywhere with you! Undo these manacles,” she hissed under her breath. “I can’t believe you bid on me like I was some kind of thing,” she spat at him, disgust clearly evident in the tone of her voice.

He yanked her by the chain and brought her face close to his. He could feel her breath on his face, warming his lips. “Listen, Slayer, this is a slave auction. For demons. That one,” he said, jerking his chin at the Gren’oth, “was wanting you for a snack. I can get you out of here alive and safe, or I can let him have you. Wanna pick?”

The anger melted out of her eyes, leaving them with the humiliation. “Y-you. If that’s my only two choices.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I thought so. So here’s how it is. You follow me on the chain. I parade you through the crowd. We get out of this place. Got it?”

She nodded and he turned to thread his way through the crowd.

Various comments were thrown their way as they walked. A tall demon with curly horns and long robes nudged his companions and said loudly, “She looks like a spitfire, Spike. You gonna bed her first?”

“Dunno, Kerlig. May just drink her. You know what they say about Slayer,” Spike replied back with his usual swagger.

Buffy gritted her teeth as her various physical attributes were discussed freely. The manacles were too short for her to cover herself adequately. If she crowded closer to Spike, he might get ideas. Well, he probably was getting ideas just by looking at her, knowing him.

She looked around at the eyes watching her every move, reveling in Spike exploiting her. She was the Slayer, not some kind of property for Spike to parade around to raise his status. Uncaring of what ideas might cross his fevered mind, she crowded closer to him, clinging to his sleeve and pressing her body to his side.

“Looks like she wants a taste of Spike,” someone yelled, and there was a burst of laughter.

“Izzat right?” Spike tucked her under his arm, his duster hiding her slender form. “Want a taste of me, Slayer?”

“Get me out of here, you stupid pig.” She buried her face in his shoulder so she wouldn’t see the faces staring at her anymore.

He lifted his head and curled his tongue behind his teeth. “Seems like she does, eh?” She could feel his chest vibrate as he laughed at her, and she reached underneath the coat and pinched him on the side under the coat. He yanked on the chain imprisoning her wrists, causing her to stumble against him. Her hands brushed a large bulge at the front of his jeans and she recoiled from him as far as she could and stay under the protection of his coat.

All fantasies Spike had about gratitude from her withered inside and he felt himself getting angry. All he wanted was to help the bint out, and she treated him like some kind of leper. He yanked her chain a little harder, and she fell against him again. He looked down and saw loathing and disgust in her features, and sorrow ripped at the still-fresh scars on his heart. First he was beneath her, now she was showing him exactly how far. Even now, naked and for sale to demons who would be just as satisfied if she were dead, she still couldn’t tell that he would do anything in his power to help her get out of here alive.

Part of him wanted to protect her. Another part, a darker side, wanted to add to the embarrassment and disgrace he knew she was feeling. He wanted to hurt her back. He was tired of his emotions ruling him, twisting his innards into knots at the thought of her.

If he would only have one night, he would have it. If this was his chance, he would take it. She would never see him, just as Cecily and Drusilla had never seen him. This time, she would take notice. She will see me, he thought. I’ll be the only thing she does see.

He jerked her out from under his coat and led her around the room, taking her the most circuitous route, until he got to the viewing room. Edie was waiting there for him, a gentle smile on her face. “Do you want to charge for the show?” she asked and tensed at the look of hatred that crossed his features. He hooked the chain between Buffy's hands to a crosspiece above her head and moved away from her to speak to the owner of the auction.

“Edie, this can’t be private?” he wheedled, and she shook her head sadly.

“Sorry, Spike, you know the rules. What you do with her once you get her out of the auction house is your business, but inside here, everyone gets to see. You can let them watch for free, or you can charge for it, but it is still demon domain here.” She touched his sleeve and he looked down at the clawed fingers. “She’s hurt you, hasn’t she?”

Damn empathic demons anyway. “Yeah, but only my pride. I was wanting to spare her any more embarrassment, but I need to teach her a lesson too, if you get my drift.”

“I get it. How about we set the price really high—like ten thou? That will keep the lookie-loos away, and maybe you can make some money on it as well,” Edie offered.

Spike considered for a moment, then chanced a look back at Buffy where she was twisting against the chains that held her tight and throwing hate-filled glances his way. “I guess that would be a bit of all right. Keep me in blood and Weetabix for a while, wouldn’t it?”

Edie patted his arm and leaned forward to whisper, “I’ll keep the announcement mum until you get her inside. No sense you having to fight her any more than you have to.” Spike tossed her a grateful look, then reached for Buffy's chains again and opened up the door.

He led her inside the room and closed the door firmly behind them, locking it securely from the inside. Buffy was still mortified, but she looked around the room suspiciously and saw a huge bed that dominating the center of the room. It was covered in satin, velvet, and lace, and had strategically placed bars at the top and bottom with hooks prominently displayed.

She expected Spike to take out the small key and unlock the chains at her wrists. Instead, he turned and gave her a look she couldn’t identify and went to the wet bar at one side of the room. She watched him jerkily open a bottle of Jack Daniels and down it in a couple of gulps, then turn back to her with that same look on his face.

She took a couple of huge, calming breaths, then said, “Spike? What’s going on here?”

He couldn’t meet her eyes when he answered her. “This is a tryout room, Slayer.”

“Tryout?” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the frisson of fear out of her voice or the slight shiver that raced down her body. “Tryout for what?”

He seemed tired all of a sudden; Buffy watched his shoulders sag under the leather duster. “Slayer, do you even know what’s going on? This is a slave auction. Slaves. Of the human and demon variety. Sometimes it’s for pleasure, and this is one of the rooms where demons can take their purchases to see…if they’re compatible.”

Sudden realization dawned on her, and she shuddered. “What if they aren’t…compatible?”

“Then they hose the place down.” His blunt statement made her shudder again and she dropped her eyes. “It’s the house rule that says we have to be in here. We have to…bring our purchases in here before we can leave with them…or leave the bodies behind.”

Her eyes widened and she wondered if he planned on offing her like he’d threatened to do for so long. She doubted that was his intention—she’d felt the hard length in his jeans when she had been against his body. Anger boiled her blood and she was speaking before she thought.

“If you think that you’re going to do anything to me, you’re so wrong, Spike. Now let me out of these manacles and take me home.” A thought struck her, and she spoke without thinking. “Are we still in Sunnydale?”

He snorted at the question. “Nope. Couldn’t get a thing like this past you if we were. We’re out in the desert, pet. Way out. And there’s a thousand plus demons outside that door thinking about what a lovely meal you would make—if you could get it unlocked.” He almost chuckled. “Not to mention the fact that you’re…naked,” he added with a leer, wiggling his eyebrows. “That would make an interesting story for the Watcher and Scoobies, wouldn’t it?”

Embarrassment flooded her and Spike's nostrils flared at the combined scent of fear and blood that permeated the room suddenly. He looked up and saw her staring at him. Tears were glistening in her eyes, a lone escapee drifting silently down her cheek. “You won’t tell them, will you? I don’t know if I could stand it if they knew….”

He crossed the room and cupped her face in his hand, brushing the tear away with his thumb. “I won’t tell a soul, pet. Will you?”

She shook her head mutely and looked up at him. She took a deep breath and then asked the question she’d been dreading to ask. “So what do we have to do? To get out of here in one piece, I mean.”

Oh, she wasn’t going to like his answer, he thought. “Well, since I’m a vampire, they figure I either bought you for a meal or a shag. Since I won’t bite you—” He let the idea formulate inside her overactive imagination, and watched as her eyes widened and her blush deepened.

“So we have to…?” she squeaked, unable to even form the words.

He nodded. “One or the other. Sex or blood. I’ll let you pick.”

“Let me pick? Like either one is a good choice?” She turned away from him and stared at the huge bed, thoughts whirling chaotically in her mind. If she chose blood, he would get a boost from her Slayer-ness, and then what could happen to her? If she chose sex…?

Maybe he could be gentle and caring, she thought. Maybe he could be the kind of lover she wanted—not like Angel, who turned all uber-evil.

He interrupted her thinking by clearing his throat. “Slayer? Come on—you have to make a decision soon. Else….” She looked at him and sound drifted through the cacophony of blood rushing in her ears. Her spine tingled with the demon-awareness, buzzing through her and making her entire body vibrate. The sheer numbers…. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and looked over at Spike, who only raised his scarred brow.

“See, Slayer, it’s like this. The demons come here for a little fun and a little relaxation. Sometimes there are auctions, sometimes not, but when there are, it gets their blood up for some mayhem. Sometimes the auctions are pretty wild—at least, some of the ones I’ve been to. They move constantly with the change of the wind, and they only take dross of the human race for auction. But you’re a Slayer, the bane of most of their existences, because you slay without thinking. Kill without consideration. And even though most of them wouldn’t touch you for fear of contamination, ‘cause humans carry some pretty nasty bugs that don’t set well with demons, they want your blood. Doesn’t matter to them who gets it. Me. Some other vamp. Even the one bidding against me, the Gren’oth. They like to wear the entrails around their neck for a while. I’d wager he’d have had yours bronzed.”

His voice hypnotized her and sent a frisson of fear down her spine, and she barely noticed him moving closer to her until he was nearly on top of her. His cool breath caressed her neck as he spoke softly in her ear. “So, better make a choice of the lesser evil soon, pet, because either way, they want their pound of flesh. Blood or humiliation. Blood or a public fucking, so they can all watch and glory in it.”

She shivered and his hands came up to ghost over her arms where they were crossed over her chest. “Then they know I’m…” she started, and he took up the thread of thought seamlessly.

“Intact? Wonderful thing, Slayer healing and all. Yes, you were examined by the best while you were out. Best demon doctor, that is. Virgo intacta, that’s what you are to them. They don’t know about my poncy grandsire and his one attempt. They do know that you are relatively inexperienced, except for the gnaw-marks on your neck. From the Bat-face and Angel, I take it?” At her nod, he continued. “Can’t change any of it now, Slayer. I’m your best shot at getting out of here alive at all.”

“Why are you doing this?” she groaned, and he smiled at the defeat lacing her voice.

Like it wasn’t bloody obvious? But no, the chit doesn’t get it, even if it smacks her right in the face! Spike hardened his resolve and his voice took a cool tone. “Because you’re the Slayer. Because one of these days, bitch, I’m going to drain you dry and laugh over your corpse. Can’t do that if you end up in some demon belly or bit by another vamp, can I now? So pick your poison, sweetheart, and hurry up, or I’ll pick it for you.”

Her continuing reluctance burned in his belly like a brand until his temper finally snapped. With a roar that vibrated her bones, he grabbed her by the chain dangling between her wrists and tossed her onto the bed. He wrapped the chain securely around one of the huge, protruding hooks on the headboard, then straddled her supine form. She was pinned to the bed by the look in his bluer than blue eyes, her squirming stopping immediately when she noticed the lust in their depths.

Gasping, she pleaded, “Promise you won’t hurt me. Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Oh, I won’t hurt you, love. I’ll destroy you.” He yanked off his duster and tossed it to the floor. “I’ll make you crave what you hate, and want what you can’t ever have again—that’s worse punishment, I think.” His red overshirt joined the duster, followed by the tee shirt. His body glistened in the low light, shadows highlighting the defined muscles and smooth skin. “I’ll make you wish that you’d never been born,” he finished, yanking open the button of his jeans, then stopping as an idea struck him. “But first I think I’m gonna make you beg.”

She put on a brave face and glared up at him. “I will never beg you for anything, Spike!” she said through gritted teeth.

“Oh yes you will, Slayer. Oh, you will indeed.”

Although he wasn’t close to being fully recovered, he had masked it well through the night, but now he felt his knees tremble with overuse, and one look at the Slayer showed that she felt it as well. He leaned over and pulled her head to the side as he slipped into his game face. “Feeling a mite peckish, love. Need a nip before we go on.”

She tried to turn her head, but stopped when his grip tightened on her hair. “Don’t want me to rip out those lovely golden locks, do you now, Slayer?” She bit her lip and held herself still in his grasp, waiting for the pain of his bite.

Spike licked his lips in anticipation, considering his approach. If he hurt her, it would be good, but to make her blood boil with lust would taste better in the long run. He mouthed her neck, sucking her blood closer to the surface, then slid his fangs gently into the baby-soft skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She gasped and tensed, expecting pain and totally surprised by the pounding of her heart as it sent shivers of pleasure straight to her groin.

Spike let his normal face slide to the fore. The perfume of her arousal made him smile around her flesh as he took several sips of her powerful blood, then he leaned back to look down into her face. Her green eyes stared at him full of horror as she felt the blood trickling down her neck and saw it staining his lips, making her pull weakly at the chain binding her wrists above her head. He threw back his head and laughed as her blood buzzed through him, invigorating him.

He felt stronger and more powerful than he had in months.

He looked down at her body. Her curves were lusher than Dru’s, her breasts heaving and flushed with embarrassment at his open perusal. He raked his booted feet down her legs to spread them open and smirked at her grimace of pain, then brought his face closer to hers. Cleaning his mouth with his pinkie, he licked her blood off his digit suggestively and his smile widened at the increased scents filling the air.

“You know, Slayer, you really do give a bloke the wrong idea. Why, with the way you dress and the way that you dance, I was certain that you’d already parted your dimpled knees a few times. Color me surprised that Angelus was the first.”

She refused to answer his gibe, staring up at him with hate in her eyes. “Do tell now, pet, wasn’t there ever any other choices for that honor? Some pimply-faced bloke with a knob he’d be needing you to polish? No, I think not. You’re a tease, you are, with your writhing and twisting and a kiss at the door, weren’t you?” His hands cupped her breasts, and he raised his brow as her nipples pebbled in his palms. “Oh, but your body—it has its own mind now, doesn’t it pet? Wants to be touched and stroked, I think.”

“God, you just love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” Her snarled comment grated over his sensitive nerves, having heard that earlier from Angelus, and his hands tightened on her breasts and made her gasp in pain. He ignored the sudden spark of the chip firing in his head, sneering into her face twisted by arousal and the sudden, painful awareness of him.

“And you love to be a right bitch, don’t you? Okay, you don’t want me to talk, then fine.” He bent his head and gripped her nipple between his teeth. His voice was muffled, but she could hear him clearly. “We can be nice, or we can be evil…which do you prefer?”

“Nice, nice! Please, you said that you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Her eyes pleaded with him, and he chuckled around her nipple still clenched in his teeth. “Never said that, pet. You said it.”

He reached up and covered her eyes with his hand. “Think you can be nicer if you can’t see.”

Ignoring her whimpers, he bent his head to her nipple once again, this time laving it with his tongue. She squirmed beneath him, overwhelmed by new sensations that were heightened by her impeded sense, and he chuckled again. “See, I was right. You are nicer now.”

He turned his attention to the other nipple and paid thorough attention to it as well. She tossed her head, trying to dislodge his hand from her eyes. Nothing that she’d ever experienced felt this good, she thought, and she couldn’t believe that Spike was the one making her body throb and pulsate like this.

He heard her pulse speeding up inside her and smelled the increased secretions she was pumping out and smiled around her sensitized nubbin. She could lie, but her body couldn’t—she was enjoying the attention if her reactions held any truth. She shivered as his mouth trailed down her side to her hipbone and he paused to savor the aesthetic pleasure her warm scent and skin were feeding his poet’s heart.

Her hips bucked upward as he settled himself between her legs, his arm reaching the full-length of her wiggling form to keep her eyes blinded to his actions. “Spike, please—don’t—”

Spike reluctantly took his hand away from her face and she raised her head to look down at him. Her face blanched when she saw where he was resting and she began babbling frantically to distract him, to no avail. “Spike, listen. I understand now what you were saying. I appreciate the help, I really do, but don’t you think that this is taking it a bit too far now? Really, I don’t think…ahh….”

He barely heard her breathy moan as he lowered her head to tease the sopping slit between her legs with the tip of his tongue. He found himself listening instead to the rising rhythms of her body—the racing pulse, the throbbing beneath his fingers, the twitching of her nethers under the ministrations of his tongue. He smiled at her loss of control; not a position the Slayer usually found herself in, if his observations were correct. Not with Soldier Boy, at least.

She strained against the chains holding her wrists above her head, arching her body into the seeking, borrowed warmth of his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the pearl of flesh peeking out of her glistening folds and was rewarded with a piercing shriek of delight. He swirled his tongue around the very tip of her to watch her writhe in sensuous delight. Her feet still unrestrained, she pulled him closer to her, wrapping her calves around his shoulders and hunching herself against his mouth. His muffled chuckle sent a burr of sensation up her spine and she moaned appreciatively above him.

She could feel her body reacting to him differently than she’d ever experienced before. It was like a double-edged sword. She wanted him to increase the pressure and back off at the same time; she needed him to speed up and slow down to let her savor and memorize these sensations so she could recreate them in the future. This was almost like the sensations she gave herself while masturbating, but so much more—she couldn’t imagine this happening with someone else in the room, yet it was happening now.

She felt a tightness beginning in her groin that seemed to spread through her whole body. Every muscle grew taut with expectation as Spike continued to do the unexplainable to her, then she felt like an electrical shock ran through her from her head to her toes and back to her heated core where his mouth was connected so intimately with her. Without volition, her body arched into him and she heard herself keening his name and gasping for air in a voice so not like her own.

Spike looked up in surprise at the Slayer as she came under his mouth. The way she was acting, you would think that she never had an orgasm before, he thought, then his thoughts flew out of his head with the bucking of her body and the drumming of her heels on his back. His eyes caught a glimpse of the glistening tears that were streaming down the sides of her face and he slowed his movements as she jerked uncontrollably beneath him, aftershocks rocking her with every movement of his mouth.

Spike moved up to lie beside her on the wide bed, swiping his hands down the sides of her face to wipe away the silvery tears. “What’s the matter, pet?”

Her eyes were wide with awe when she finally looked up at him. “What was that?” she finally gasped, when her breathing had slowed considerably.

His brows furrowed as he looked down into her face. “What do you mean, pet? That feeling? That was an orgasm. Haven’t you had one before?” he asked, strongly resisting the urge to tease her.

“Only—only by myself. Not with…someone else….” Her voice trailed off in embarrassment and he kicked himself mentally. No wonder the bint was crying like that.

Spike began to remove his boots and clothes, his eyes trained on her face. “And did you enjoy that, pet?”

She refused to look at him. When his face filled her vision, she finally closed her eyes and kept her mouth closed, declining to answer his question. Spike stripped quickly, not wanting her body to come down off it’s high quite yet—he was as hard as steel and needed release as well, especially after a taste of that ambrosia flowing between her legs.

When he slid over her still-restrained body, she opened her eyes, shocked to the core. “What do you think you’re doing now?” she tried to growl, but her voice came out more airy than she hoped. Spike cupped her breast with one hand, teasing the nipple and sending pleasurable shocks through her.

“Time for me to have some fun, sweetling. Come on,” he said, settling himself between her legs. “I think that you’ll like this too.”

She gritted her teeth. “I don’t think there’s anything that you could do that I would like, Spike,” she said, mentally adding ‘except maybe what you just did.’

His eyes had a strange glow as she looked up at him, on his elbows above her. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too quick about sayin’ that, pet.” She felt something incredibly hard and frighteningly huge prodding her thigh and looked down to see his cock pressing against her soft skin. As she looked, his fingers probed her still sensitive pussy and spread the multiple folds to allow him to rake the head of his prick against her wetness, teasing them both at once.

She gasped at the sensation of him pressing himself into her. “Spike, no! You’re too big—you’ll tear me apart.”

“Don’t think so, pet. Just let me take care of things, right? Done this a couple of times in my life.” He lowered his head to touch his mouth to hers, more to silence her protests than for the kissing, but the kissing quickly took precedence as he relished in the flavors of her. Blood, pussy, and now her mouth mingled on his tongue to form a melange of flavors that he would always identify as Buffy. She moaned as he slipped his tongue into her mouth and his fingers into her pussy, first one, then two, feeling for the small, fleshy barrier that would cause her pain if he entered her now.

When she began humping his hand and breathing raggedly against his mouth, he judged it was time. He nudged the head of his cock against her, then began easing into her heated pussy with exquisite care, reining in his demon’s urge to plunge into her depths and holding himself in reserve until he was seated fully into her core. She looked up at him, watching the play of emotion across his face as her tight muscles encompassed him fully to the base of his cock.

It was heaven, or as close as he would ever get. Heated and tight and wetter than anything that he had ever felt before, his eyes closed and jaw tightened visibly as he restrained his more animalistic urges to allow her time to accustom herself to his girth and length. She gazed up into his face, fascinated by his expressions as he buried himself fully inside her, trying and failing to keep the wonder off her face at the sudden influx of sensation that flooded her whole body with awareness of him.

When he started to move slowly against her, the sensations nearly overwhelmed her again. She felt so full inside, stuffed with cock to the brim and beyond, but his careful ministrations prior to entering her prevented her from having any pain with the pleasure. She almost wished that her hands were free so they could feel the rippling muscles that seemed to writhe across her skin, muscles that she could feel with the calves of her legs where they wrapped themselves around his sides. She threw one leg around his back, pulling him deeper inside and was rewarded with his eyes flying open to look deep into hers.

She was panting uncontrollably, but managed to speak. “You’re not hurting me, Spike. Go ahead—I can take it, whatever you can dish out.”

He took her at face value and began thrusting in earnest, his balls slapping her ass with each thrust and somehow adding to the unbelievable pleasure building deep inside her. She grunted as his head dipped to the side of her neck once again, his tongue laving her skin and licking up the droplets of sweat that had started running down her neck, dampening her hair.

He reached above her and unhooked the chain from the hook above the bed, leaving her wrists bound but giving her free arm movement again, and she wrapped them around his neck, her fingers trailing over the muscles of his back. When she grabbed his head, he started to protest until she dragged his mouth back down to meet hers. Their tongues battled for dominance as their bodies strained together for completion, driving harder and harder against one another.

Spike raised himself on his hands to watch the flushed face of the Slayer, lax with passion and sensuality and changing the angle of his thrusts to hit a bundle of nerves deep inside her. She drew a sharp breath as he began to thrust deeply into her against those nerves, feeling the tension building again as she reached down to grip his hips with her bound hands, pulling him deeper and harder. Her face grew in a grimace of pleasure as she drew closer and closer to orgasm, then she began bucking against him once again as the feelings overwhelmed her once more.

Spike felt her muscles clenching him rhythmically inside her body and he felt his own release close behind. He moved to the side of her neck and slipped his fangs into her, sipping her blood delicately as it trickled down the side of her neck. Her eyes opened wide as she felt the ecstasy of the double-penetration and her body flew into overdrive as orgasm after orgasm rippled from one end of her nervous system to the other and blew her mind.

Spike arched into her, burying his cock deep inside her as his come jetted from him with the force of a speeding train, splashing inside her and trickling back out with every thrust. Her muscles clenched him like a fist in a glove until he could barely move, until he finally collapsed on her chest, panting unnecessarily from the exertion.

Buffy looked down at the blond head resting on her chest, breathing heavily even though he didn’t need to breathe. She wanted to hate him, but somehow found herself unable to—tonight she had found out why her other lovers had been so unsatisfying, and the revelation had nearly undone her. He had been so caring and so gentle, something that she never expected from him, especially in this situation.

He felt her studying him and kept his head to her chest, avoiding the accusations he knew that he would see in her eyes. It wasn’t technically rape, what he’d done—call it more like seduction of a sort. If she had protesting, he wouldn’t have done anything to her. The last thing on his mind was hurting her.

“Spike?” she called out. “Spike, are you awake? Breathing becoming an issue, Spike.” Reluctantly he raised his head to meet green eyes glittering with critical appraisal and appreciation of his naked form. “So, now that we’ve…um, done our thing for the demons, can we get out of here now? Because I really don’t want to get stuck here all day.”

He let his cock slip out of her and rolled off of the bed to stand beside it. “Do you think you can stand to wear my duster out, Slayer?”

She gave him a dubious look. “Does it matter? I don’t have anything else now, do I?”

He shrugged. “They might have saved your clothes. I can ask, if you want me to.”

She shook her head, holding out her chained wrists. “I don’t care at this point, Spike. I just want to go home.”

He took the key for the chains from the pocket of the jeans hanging limp in his hands. He unlocked her chains and let them fall to the floor with a clatter, then handed her his red shirt and watched her as she put it on and buttoned it around her slight form. She waited patiently as he dressed and then together they walked to the door to leave the room. He paused with his hand on the knob, then handed her his duster to cover her more completely. She wrapped it around herself almost twice, then looked up at him, waiting for him to open the door.

He stood there, his head bent in thought. “Slayer…Buffy, I….” His voice trailed off to silence when he raised his head and found her staring at him, a mixture of acceptance and patience written on her face.

“Spike, don’t. Don’t explain, don’t apologize, just don’t. Let’s get home and we can think about this later, all right?”

He nodded and took a deep breath before opening the door and grabbing her hand, which she let him do with no protest.

He led her through the warehouse full of demons and saw noses perking at the scent of Slayer blood. He slipped into game face until they were out the door and back into the cool night air, then led her to the De Soto hastily and tucked her securely into the passenger seat.

As he started the car to drive away, she slid over to his side, a secretive smile on her face as she placed one small hand on his thigh and rested her head on his shoulder. Hope leaped to life in his dead heart as she sat there next to him all the way back to Sunnydale and the house on Revello, never moving her hand or her body until they slid to a stop at the curb.

She didn’t speak as she shrugged off the duster. “I’ll get the shirt back to you tomorrow,” she said, moving to get out of the car, but he was faster by far. He ran around to her side and opened her door, then walked her to the base of the tree outside her window. She stood there, uncertainty in the lines of her stance, then put a slim hand on his muscled chest. “I didn’t thank you for helping me back there,” she said, then raised up on tiptoe to kiss his mouth one last time. Shimmying up the tree quickly, she was inside the house before he knew what hit him.

He walked back to the car in a daze, missing her shining face as she watched him out her window. She turned to climb into bed, wondering if he realized that he’d lost his shirt forever. Snuggling into its warm folds, she cuddled deep into the blankets with his scent around her, and drifted off to dream of a blond wonder with a poet’s heart of gold and the body of a sex god. It was the best sleep she’d had in years.



Author's note: This was only going to be two parts, but due to the overwhelming positive response, you get a whole fic! Pat yourselves on the back, and I hope that you enjoy it!