Enthralled

Chapter Two

He looked down at her, at them. She was leaning against him, his arm around her shoulders, her face so close to his that he could smell her shampoo. He was touching her. Touching her, and not fighting. No punching or kicking. No resistance. He couldn’t begin to comprehend what was happening here, it had such a dream-like quality to it, and now she was asking him why he wasn’t kissing her? Something so low he was beneath her? He shouldn’t even be soiling her with his touch.

She looked around, everywhere but him, disappointed that he hadn’t answered. “Here we are, in the dark under the moon, crickets chirping and stars shining. You have your arm around me, holding me close. I’m not running, or moving away. We aren’t fighting. So, that isn’t even normal, but so not the point. You have the perfect setting for a kiss, so not a back alley behind a bar. Quiet, private, romantic. So, why aren’t you trying to kiss me now?”

“I…I couldn’t take advantage…. Not the…. Buffy….”

“Not the dance, huh?”

She moved away slightly, and he gripped her upper arms, turning her to face him. “Buffy…Slayer…do you know what you’re saying?”

She looked embarrassed. “Yeah, well…it’s not like we haven’t kissed before. Last year….”

“Last year was Willow’s spell. It wasn’t real. Not real.”

“It felt real enough, when it was happening.” She dodged his glance, looking at her hands where they lay in her lap, so close to his thigh…so close…. “It felt real enough. And still seems real enough…I’ve thought about it enough in the last year.” She gave in to impulse, and laid her hand on his thigh. “Spike….”

“Slayer, you don’t know what you’re asking. It won’t stop with a couple of kisses.”

“I know.” She brought her other hand up, caressing his sculpted cheek. “Maybe I don’t want it to stop there. Maybe…maybe I want more this time….” she whispered, then leaned forward to barely touch her lips to his.

He could taste her—the soft vanilla of her favorite perfume, the soda she’d drank at the Bronze, her own unique scent, the copper tang of blood underneath it all—and his grip tightened on her arms. He twisted without breaking the kiss, pulling her onto his lap and closing his arms around her to encircle her, to keep her from getting away. She gripped the front of his duster for balance, then slipped one arm underneath it around his back, feeling the tight muscles bunched under his tee shirt. She buried her other hand in his hair, fingering curls that he had raked loose with his own hand.

She felt her body begin to throb, and knew that he could feel it too. One hand stole down her back to her hip as he tried to keep her still in his lap. She could feel his excitement building, felt the bulge growing in his jeans again her hip. Impulsively, she slid her tongue into his mouth, tasting the beer and tobacco and something that was him alone, his essence, which made her throb harder and begin to squirm in earnest as it erupted through her nerves in a flashfire of sensation.

Tearing her mouth from his, she kissed her way across his jawline to the lobe of his ear. She nipped at the lobe, then sucked it into her mouth, her breath coming in short pants as she inhaled his scent.

Spike threw his head back and hissed between his gritted teeth. Did she know what she was doing to him, making him feel? He doubted it, he did. He knew he was holding her too hard, would leave a mark, it would, but God, he couldn’t stand it…her mouth on his ear, her breath sending shivers over his skin, her scent everywhere around him….

“Spike,” she whispered, and a shiver ran down his spine. “Spike, do you want me?”

“Buffy,” he groaned. “Are you playing me?”

“Just answer the question, Spike. Do you want me?”

He closed his eyes, fighting the good fight internally, and losing. He couldn’t, wouldn’t hide from her, not anymore. He was too tired of fighting. Tired of running away from this, these feelings that kept him here in Sunnyhell and close to her. “Yes, Buffy, I want you. Want you….”

“Then take me, Spike. Here is your once-in-a-lifetime chance at the Slayer.”

His eyes flew open, realizing what she said. “What? Here? Now? In your backyard?”

“Does it really matter where?” She stood, and led him to the darkest corner of the yard, underneath a weeping willow tree. Curtained by the drooping branches, she turned to him. “Is this any better?”

“It’s a start.” He took off his duster and laid it on the grass, leather side down. Knowing the gesture for what it was, she sat down and reclined, holding out her arms to the man standing nervously above her. He kneeled next to her, and she reached out her hands to cup his face between them.

“I’m tired of fighting this, Spike,” she said, eerily echoing his own thoughts. “I’ve fought this for a year, and I refuse to waste my time and energy fighting something that we obviously both want. Not anymore. Life is too short. Especially mine,” she said wryly. She sat up, and nibbled on his full lower lip. “Aren’t you tired of fighting it?”

“You’re hurt…” he said, panicking.

“I’m already healing.”

“And upset…”

“This will make me feel a lot better, Spike.”

“And you have a boyfriend…”

“Hello? Were you listening? Something missing there.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“You can’t, remember?” She huffed, and sat up all the way. “Spike, why are you trying to think up excuses not to fuck me?”

His head snapped up, shocked at her use of the f-word. He reached for her hands, and gripped them tightly between his. “Buffy—once we do this, it changes everything. There is no going back.”

“I know.” She pulled her hands away, and took off her jacket. He watched it slide off her shoulders, then she tossed it aside. Her boots followed soon after, then her socks. “Maybe…maybe I don’t want it to go back. Maybe I want things to change.”

Her face was hidden in deep shadow, and even with his vampire sight, he couldn’t distinguish her features. She held her arms out to him again, and whispered, “Please, Spike. Don’t make me beg you.”

He came to her willingly, in part because of his own need, and to fulfill hers. He knew she was aroused; her scent wafted around him, in his nostrils, and he detected the subtle change. He could smell it on her skin. “Buffy,” he started, about to confess his feelings to her, but she forestalled him, placing a finger across his lips.

“No more talk, Spike. Lots more action.” She pulled his head down to her, and their mouths crashed together in a violently passionate kiss, full of teeth and tongue.

She pulled his tee shirt out of his pants so she could touch his skin. She ran her palms up under his shirt and across the muscles of his back, pulling him on top of her. His erection landed exactly where it should, or would once they had undressed. Buffy ground her hips against his, craving friction, and he groaned against her mouth.

“Keep that up too long, pet, and we’ll never get any further,” he growled against her neck.

“Oh, yes we will.” She reached between them to loosen his belt, then unzip his pants. Reaching inside, she was happily surprised to find him bare beneath his jeans. Her fingertips grazed his balls as she palmed the underside of his cock. He felt bigger than she was used to, and she had a sudden urge to see what she held in her hand.

She pushed him onto his back, and reached inside his fly to examine him more closely. Her small hand barely encircled its fullness, and it twitched in her grasp when she tightened her grip. She only intended to look, but gave in to other urges when she bent down to kiss the smooth, velvety head. She heard Spike gasp aloud above her, prodding her to slide her lips over the tip of his cock, saliva flooding her mouth as she swallowed him down.

Her mouth was so hot, it was setting his cock on fire, and it was all he could do to keep from shouting aloud. He growled instead, and dragged her mouth off his cock and against his. She tore at his clothes, overcome by the need to feel his cool skin against her heated flesh. She felt like she was burning up from the inside, she was so hot. He slowly unzipped her shirt in the back, then drew it down her arms and over her head. The cool air raised gooseflesh on her exposed skin, but she didn’t notice. Her only thought left was quenching the fire in her belly, feeling his long, smooth coolness inside her, filling her….

He unzipped her pants, and pushed them down her hips and over the curve of her ass. She kicked out of them, then ripped her own thong off of her to free her completely of all barriers. He arched his own hips to push his own jeans down, and found himself engulfed in her mouth again. Kicking his pants to the side, he pulled her on top of him, face to face, and reached between them. His cock was poised at the entrance to the heated, dripping center of her, but he hesitated a shade too long, uncertain….

Buffy wasn’t uncertain at all. She raised her hips, and sat down abruptly, driving his cock deep within her to the hilt. She gasped aloud at the sensation of him filling her, touching places deep inside that no one had ever touched. She flexed her muscles, and felt him arch into her, heard his gasp for air. He put his hands on her hips to steady her, and she used them as leverage to ride him, gliding over his sensitive skin smoothly. If her mouth was hot, her quim was hotter, and Spike felt like he was melting into her with every movement.

She sat back on him, moving only her inner muscles in a ripple over his cock as she raked her nails over his nipples. “Do you like that, Spike?”

“Oh, God, Buffy, the things you do….”

“Not even close to done yet, Spike.” She stretched out against his full length, locked her legs around his, and twisted, and suddenly he was on top of her. “Fuck me, Spike. Make me come. But I’ll warn you ahead of time—I’m a screamer.”

“I’ll just have to think of something, then, won’t I, to keep you from waking the neighbors.”

She arched her hips against him, and he raised himself on his elbows, positioning himself better. He glided in and out of her slowly, as deep as he could reach. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he slid in even deeper, to the soft, unyielding core of her. She bit her lip to stifle a moan at the painful pleasure of it.

“More, Spike. Harder. Faster,” she gasped, and he obliged. He buried his face in her neck, sucking the tender skin above the pulse pounding wildly under his tongue. He licked her heated skin down to the tip of one of her breasts, and captured the nipple between his lips, electrifying her senses. She dug her nails into his scalp, holding his head there as he ravaged first one breast, then the other.

“Spike…I….”

He could feel her building to her peak, and raised his head. “Buffy…what do you need from me, love?”

She tossed her head, her mind whirling. Words leaped unbidden from her lips. “Bite me, Spike.”

He pulled back, physically and mentally. “You want me to vamp? Now?”

“No—yes—I don’t know. Just bite me—you don’t have to draw blood….”

He bent his head, biting and sucking tender skin, then he felt her body begin to coil tensely beneath him. He raised his head to watch her face. Her lips were drawn against gritted teeth, her eyes closed, brow furrowed. He touched her face. “Open your eyes, Buffy. See me. See us.”

She obeyed, and hazel eyes crashed into a blue so deep she felt like she was drowning. “Don’t stop, Spike. Please don’t stop.”

She looked down to where their bodies joined, crashed together. “Harder, love. You won’t hurt me. Slayer, remember? We can take a lot….”

“Take this, then.” He brought his mouth down in a punishing kiss, grinding her lips against her teeth. It split under the pressure, and they both tasted the tang of copper as blood smeared their mouths. Spike found a renewed energy, and took Buffy at her word as he began pounding his pelvis against hers, his cock still growing with excitement as he tasted her blood in his mouth and felt her heartbeat on his tongue, stretching her wide and fucking her deep. She dug her nails into his tight ass, spurring him on as she arched up to meet his every thrust.

He knew she still was lacking, still needed…something. Something to drive her over the top. Looking down, he saw the corded muscles in her shoulder, her neck, and he licked the salt from her skin as she tossed her head, then clamped his normal teeth onto the muscles, slowly increasing the pressure with every thrust of his hips.

“God…Spike…yes! Fuck me, Spike…fuck me hard….” With that, her body exploded. She bucked and kicked and groaned. She raked her nails down his back and across his ass, then found her own place to chew on. It just happened to be his siring scar. She gripped it in her teeth, worried it with her tongue, and his demon roared inside him. He felt Buffy scream against his neck, and tore his mouth off her neck to kiss her and swallow the screams with his lips. Her lip still seeped blood, and it opened again, pouring into his mouth. He lapped at her mouth hungrily, driving his tongue deep into her throat and tongue-fucking her mouth to taste all of her. She bit it, chewed it, sucked it hard, and drove him past the point of reason. He felt her coming again, giving as good as she got, her slick inner muscles gripping him like a fist, and he erupted, groaning her name against her mouth, her neck, her throat.

He stilled, his head still buried in her hair, her blood sweet on his mouth, and she held him to her, still inside her. She stroked his curls, pushing them back from his forehead to kiss where they had lain. “Spike?”

“Mmm? Pet?”

“Please…tell me…this wasn’t a…one night stand, was it?”




Enthralled

Chapter Three

He leaned up on one elbow to look down into her face. He cursed Angel, Riley, and that other wanker she’d shagged last year, mentally vowing to beat them all to a pulp just because they had put that look in her eyes. That look of…uncertainty. Loss. Worthlessness. He stroked her cheek, pushing stray hair from her eyes, and said, “God, I hope not. But, we’ll kill each other if we do it too much.”

“Mmm—die happy.” She snuggled under him, and he felt the beginning of stirrings in his groin. He groaned aloud, and worry flitted across Buffy’s face. “Did I hurt you?” She said, running her fingers over scratches and bite marks, making his cock twitch inside her and his nerve endings sing.

“Buffy,” he said, capturing her hand. “Did I hurt you?”

She stretched like a cat, but still didn’t release him. “No. Not at all. I might be a little sore tomorrow, but tonight, right now…I feel yummy. All relax-y and such.”

She may be all relaxed, but her quim kept getting tighter around his sensitive cock. “Do you think we should maybe put our clothes back on?” he said.

“Inna minute.” She curled her arms around his neck, snuggled close to him. “Let me enjoy this. Our first time.” Spike heard a promise in that sentence, and stilled, not even breathing. Buffy pulled him down to her, and kissed him softly. She gazed at his face, and reached out her hand to trace the knife-edge of his cheek, the hollow beneath it. “You’re a handsome one, aren’t you, Spike?” She purred. “Those eyes, that body, that cock…and your mouth. I can sometimes tell your mood from your mouth. Like, whether you’ll be good, or bad. What you’re thinking. And your eyes. They see right through me, don’t they. Into me. Is that a vamp thing, or is it just you?”

He watched her eyes while she mused on his face, afraid to move because it would break the spell she was under. His mind struggled with the concepts—she was attracted to him, she had thought about him, she knew—although, she didn’t realize what she knew, yet. “Just me, pet.”

“Thought so.” She touched his lip. “You tasted me. My blood.”

Better to face it. “I did.”

“It probably tastes different to you than me. Doesn’t it?” She saw him hesitate, and she added, “No, please. Tell me. I want to know.” She paused, bit her lip. “I’m not afraid, Spike.”

He took a deep breath, then said, “It’s like…fine wine. Uniquely you. Buffy. Slayer. Vanilla. Sweet. All rolled into one. And more…carries your essence. Made it even sweeter that it was freely given, didn’t have to bite you to get it. It was…another way for me to connect with you…during …lovemaking.”

“Wow. Didn’t see that one coming.” He felt her chest press tighter against his as she sighed. “You made it sound almost…poetic.”

Must have been the moonlight, he thought to himself, then said aloud, “I’m too heavy. Dead weight, so to speak,” and moved to lie next to her. She whimpered when he slipped out of her and seemingly so far away after their close contact. Squirming closer, she curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He reached across her to grasp the edge of his coat, and pulled it over her to keep out the chill night air.

She inhaled deeply, and he could feel her need. He looked down at the top of her head. “What is it, pet?”

“Can…can we keep this…thing between us quiet, for the time being?”

“What, you mean not telling the Slayerettes? Ashamed of being with me, pet?”

“No, not ashamed. Exactly. There are things I’ve got to do. Break up with Riley, for one. Tell my mom, and Dawnie. Tell Giles.” She pulled a face. “I can hear the ‘oh dears’ and ‘good Lords’ already.”

“Wot, you think that you’re the only slayer to ever have a vampire boyfriend? Think again, pet. To do it proper like, a slayer has to know her prey. Know us. Our motivation, our needs, our urges…sometimes the knowing…goes deeper. Friends. Boyfriends. Bugger, I have even heard tales of a slayer who turned, of her own free will…. Not to mention, I would be your second vampire boyfriend. Seeing a pattern here, pet?” He stopped, kicking himself for mentioning Angel on the one hand, and the look on her face on the other hand.

“Oh. Well…um….”

She didn’t voice her fear, but he felt it nonetheless. He touched her cheek, looked deep into her eyes. “Buffy, I would never turn you. Never. If you believe nothing else I say, believe that. Bad idea, that one is,” he said, looking away. “But, by all means, consult with Rupert. He’ll fill your head, but mind you, you’re not the first, and he knows it. It isn’t necessarily a good thing, you know, the whole sleeping with the enemy thing, but it happens.”

“But, Spike, my job…”

“I’m not going to do anything that warrants slaying me, Buffy. I can even help. I have before. And you could use the assistance with the new baddie in town….”

“I know.” She smiled. “But isn’t it the nature of the Big Bad to be…um…bad?”

“Didn’t you read the Slayer’s Handbook?”

“Huh? Giles said….”

“Oh, okay. Rupert again. The vampire’s nature depends on the strength of the personality. Every vampire has a demon, but a lot depends on the vampire’s ability to control the demon…and how much of his personality can assert itself. That’s what makes a master different from a minion.”

“I see…minions are weak…and masters aren’t. So, you have this control thingie…uh…under control?” she finished weakly.

“I do—now. Age equals practice. And there have been times when blending in was an important survival technique.”

She rested her chin on his chest. “Like when?”

“Well, there was this one time in France…” he chuckled, then ran his hands over her arms. “Doesn’t matter, pet. William has, and can, play nice with the other boys and girls without causing a ruckus. Have before, can again, if need be.”

“William. Spike. What do you want me to call you?”

“Whatever you like, pet. What ever suits your fancy.”

They talked until the sky began to lighten and Spike realized he needed to leave. Dressing quickly, he walked her to the edge of the stairs and stood staring down at her, an indescribable look in his eyes.

“So…uh…will I see you tonight?” Buffy stammered in the taut silence.

“Yes, pet.” His voice was soothing on her grated nerves. Why was she so nervous? He reached out his hand to smooth her hair, and she melted inside. When he lifted her chin, she looked at him expectantly, and he didn’t disappoint her. He touched her swollen mouth gently with his lips. “I’ll see you tonight, I promise.”

“Good morning, Spike.”

“Good morning, Buffy.” He kissed her once more, picked up the forgotten shotgun, and left her. He looked back once, just after passing through the hedge, and she still stood, watching his back, a look of wonder on her face. He started to run back to her, to take her again, his hunger for her was so strong, but he wrenched himself away from the sight and her house.

Last night was a fluke, he thought, as he made his way through the shadows still clinging to the night toward his crypt. A fluke, and as soon as she realizes what she’s done, she’ll be over to punch my face in again. He rubbed his stomach, then cupped himself in his palm. Still, if it was the one time…it was memorable. Not enough for a lifetime of cold nights. But it would have to do, if that was all there would ever be.



Chapter 4

Buffy opened the back door, and ran face to face with her mother.

“Buffy Anne Summers! Have you been out all night?”

“I was in the back yard, Mom.”

“All night? Doing what?”

“I…I was talking to Spike.”

“Oh, okay. How is William—I mean, Spike, these days? He’s not around much here lately.”

“He’s more of a night owl, Mom. What do you mean, been around much lately? And why do you like him so much, anyway?”

Her mother smiled. “He’s sweet, Buffy. Good-hearted. Do you know, when you first went to college and weren’t home much, William would stop by from time to time and talk for a while.”

“Spike? Here?” Buffy’s eyes widened over the cup she had raised to her lips.

“Not every night, and not in a bad way. Just…checking in on Dawn and me. It broke up some of the monotony, you know? And he’s really quite fascinating. He was a scholar, Buffy, did you know that? And he has met the most interesting people in his unlife….”

Buffy stared in horror at the woman across the counter. “Mom, vampire, remember?”

“Yes, Buffy, I remember. But still, a gentleman.”

“Mom—what would you think if I said that…that I wanted to date Spike?”

“Buffy!” Her mother frowned at her, all good thoughts evaporated. “You know, I know that William has a chip and can’t hurt you….”

“How did you know that?”

Her mother ignored her question and continued. “…but your last relationship with a vampire didn’t end well. And I told you, William and I talk. He has some of the most interesting stories…. Anyway, Buffy, you really shouldn’t just jump into any relationship. And what about Riley?”

“Riley is history, Mom. Well, not yet. But he will be. History, I mean. And I’m not jumping into anything, not with Spike. And plus, I’ve known him a lot longer than I’ve known Riley. Anyway, Angel and I didn’t end well because of the whole evil Angelus thingie…and Spike helped me with that, remember? So he’s a good guy. Right?”

Her mother patted her hand, and said, “Just be careful, okay? William is a nice boy, but…”

“Mom, I will be the care-fullest, okay? There’s just something there, something about him…I need to find out, what it is, what I feel….”

“Are you attracted to him, Buffy? Have you…done anything?”

“I’ve kissed him,” Buffy admitted, not meeting her mother’s eyes. “And, when I did, he…moved me. There’s electricity between us. I don’t know—it could be something….”

“Electricity? That sounds like how your father used to make me feel.” A secretive smile curved her mother’s lips. “You have my blessing, Buffy.”

“What are you blessing?”

Both women turned to see the pre-teen bopping into the kitchen. “Nothing,” Buffy said hastily, throwing her mother a warning look she didn’t see, or ignored entirely.

“Buffy is going to date Spike.”

“Spike!” Dawn clapped her hands and squealed, then stopped abruptly. “What about Riley?”

“Riley is a done deal, Dawnie.”

“Good. I didn’t like him much, anyway. Too plastic.” Dawn grabbed an apple, ignoring her mother’s sputters, and headed out the door to school.

Buffy waited until the door had closed behind Dawn before turning to her mother. “Mom, you…going to the hospital now?”

“I’ll be leaving in about an hour.”

“Okay. I’m going to shower.” Buffy headed up the stairs to the bathroom, dreading the talk she would have to have with Riley, and the whole hospital thingie already.

~*~

Buffy was waiting for her mother to finish testing when she felt hands on her shoulders. She turned with a smile, somehow expecting to see Spike. Her smile quickly faded when she saw Riley instead.

Oblivious, he wrapped her in a hug that she limply returned. “We don’t know anything yet,” she said. “How did you find me?”

“You didn’t call me. I had to find out from Spike, who I found in your house, by the way.”

“Spike? You saw him? In my house?” Inside, she smiled. Outside, she frowned.

“Yeah. In your house, in your room, sniffing your sweater.”

“He was?” She suppressed a smile. “I’ll…talk to him about that.”

“I assured him that you would. Will you talk to him before or after you rip his arms off?”

“Before. Riley, we really need to talk.”

He led her into a quiet corner, and they sat across from one another. “What’s up, Buffy?”

“Riley—” Buffy bent her head, eyes swimming. “Riley, I care for you….”

“But you don’t love me, right?”

Her head snapped upright. “Huh?”

“Spike told me. He said I’d never be dark enough for you, no matter how hard I tried. I guess he’s right. About all of it.” He looked at the floor, and said, “I guess…is…oh, hell….” He stood, and raked his hands through his hair.

She jumped to her feet. “Spike told you what?” she asked, her voice flat.

“All of it, Buffy.” He could see the tense anger coiling in her muscles. “All of it,” he repeated dully.

Her teeth ached from the flexing of her jaw. “I’m sorry, Riley. I am. But Spike…he doesn’t know anything.” She willed herself to relax, and took a step toward him. “I really tried, I have. The spark is there….”

“There just isn’t enough to feed it. I know. I felt it. Actually, the lack of it. And I’ve woke up too many times in the middle of the night to an absent girlfriend and an empty bed.” He reached down, and picked his coat up off the chair. “Be happy. Be happy, Buffy, and be careful.”

“I’ll try, Riley. I really will. And you, too.”

She watched him walk down the long hallway to the hospital exit. Remembering, her hands fisted at her sides. As soon as Mom was done, she was going to deal with a pain in her ass.


Chapter 5

Buffy kicked open the door to the crypt, and was in between Spike and his television set before he could turn around. “Buffy, love…” he started to say when her fist connected with his nose, stunning him.

“Not even twenty-four hours, and you break your promise. You asshole!”

He straightened, and she punched him again. “Breaking into the house, I can handle. Sniffing my sweater, I can handle that too, though, ewww. But spilling everything to Riley, before I could even talk to him, that was crossing the line, buddy…” She punctuated her litany of his sins with punches to the face, and he managed to get his hand up, grabbing her fist in mid-swing.

“Wait a bleeding minute, Slayer. I didn’t….”

“He told me! He told me what you said!” She twisted her other fist in his tee shirt and yanked him face to face. “He told me everything.”

“Word for word, repeating the conversation entire.” She could feel his anger rising. “Bloody good of the boy. Or did he just give you ideas of what I said?”

Her grip loosened, her brow furrowed. “No, it wasn’t word for word. Close enough.” She sat down on the arm of his chair. “Why, Spike? Why did you have to betray my trust?”

He put his arm around her hips, and she knocked it away, so he didn’t try again. “I didn’t, pet. I didn’t say anything about us to Soldier Boy.”

“Then, how did he know?”

“He didn’t. I didn’t even hint.” He grabbed her arms, and pulled her down onto his lap. “Pet, do you really think that he thought you were deliriously happy? Everyone could see it, pet, if you didn’t.”

“Huh?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think that maybe the boy knew there was something missing too, love?”

Buffy was stunned to silence, her mind whirling, but the whirling came to a screeching halt when she felt Spike’s hand stroke along her spine under her shirt. “Better now than later, pet.”

“I know.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m just kicking myself because I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Spike nuzzled her ear with his nose. “You were slightly preoccupied, baby. Saving the world and all that?” He touched the back of her neck under her shirt, pressed his mouth to her pulse. “Now there is no one between us, love. No one and nothing to keep us from the dance.”

She shivered at the mention of the word. Turning her head, she caught his mouth with her own. Her heart raced in her chest, and she felt a throbbing…expectancy in the pit of her stomach. An emptiness he needed to fill….

She tore her mouth away from his, and looked into his eyes. “What are you doing to me, Spike?”

Breathless, he leaned his forehead on her shoulder. “Exactly what I was going to say, pet.”

“Were you thinking….”

“Lusty naked thoughts? Yes. You?”

“Yes! What is it?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, only looked at the ceiling. “Blood. I tasted your blood. Off your mouth last night, when we kissed, while we….”

“Yeah, so? You aren’t my first…vampire. You know?”

“Yes, pet. I’m aware of your history. Past and present.”

“But I didn’t feel this…connection. Feel them…like I feel you. Like, I know you’re telling the truth about Riley. Like, I know you wouldn’t hurt me, even without the chip. Like…I can…see some of the things that you do want to do with me.” She shook her head. “Spike….”

“Maybe it was the two things combined. Blood and sex. Even though I didn’t bite you….”

“And if you did?”

“I don’t know. Now we definitely need to talk to Rupert, huh?”

“I need to talk to Giles. You need to stay here.” She kissed him, and climbed off his lap. “I’ll be back later. Sooner. As soon as I can.”

She leaned over to kiss him again, and he snagged a look at her high firm breasts when her blouse gaped away from her chest. “Hurry love, faster than fast. I…need you. Need to dance with you.”

She ignored the throb the word sent through her body. “Do you now,” she said, licking her lips. “Soon.”

And she was gone again.

Buffy found Giles in the workout room at the rear of the Magic Box. She let out her held breath, glad to have found him alone. “Giles? I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, Buffy?” her Watcher said, turning to face her.

Ignoring the bats in her stomach and the throbbing that continued in her groin, she plunged in. “Giles, have any other Slayers ever been…involved with vampires?”

Giles looked at Buffy closely, then cleared his throat. “Ahem. Er…yes, Buffy, it has happened. In the past. Even with you—Angel.”

“I’m not talking ensouled vampires like Angel. Regular vampires.”

“Yes, well…yes, since Angel is the only ensouled vampire we know. Yes, Slayers have been involved with er…regular vampires.”

“What happened to them?”

“Buffy, why?”

“Just answer the question, Giles. What happened to the slayers?”

“Hmm.” Giles took his glasses off and polished the lenses. “One, I believe, was actually turned. She was staked by her Watcher.”

“And the others?”

Giles replaced his glasses. “Buffy, what is this about?”

She plunked herself down on the bench, and looked Giles dead in the eye. “I had sex with Spike. Now I can…feel him…sense his thoughts…see mental pictures. Is that normal?”

“Oh dear Lord.” Giles sat down heavily next to her, and cleaned his glasses again. “Buffy, why?”

“Giles.” She turned to face him. “I’ve…I’ve felt drawn to him, ever since Will did that ‘will be done’ spell last year, when we were going to get married. Our fights, our sparring, even our spats, all felt like…foreplay. There’s…” She hesitated, then threw herself into the abyss. “There’s a spark there, Giles. Something I’ve never felt before, with anyone. A connection.”

“Buffy, you know who Spike is….”

“Yes, and I also know that he can’t hurt me, or anyone else, for that matter. And, he’s helped us in the past.” She sighed, then added, “And he could help us even more with our…other problem. With the key,” she said, referring to the nameless bleach blonde babe that had thoroughly kicked her ass.

“I should have never let you go last night.”

She stood, eyes blazing. “Giles, you’re my Watcher, not my warden.”

“I’m fully aware of that fact.”

“So, tell me now—what happened to the other Slayers? Not the staked one, but the ones that didn’t turn?”

Giles rested his head on the wall behind him, and sighed deeply. “They were some of the longest-lived Slayers. The Chronicles say they could…fight like the demons themselves…take an inhuman amount of pain and injury…and nearly anticipate their enemies moves.”

“So, this is a good, right? I could…gain some power from this?”

Giles reached for her, grabbing her upper arm. “Buffy—are you absolutely certain that this is a good thing? I think you are making a grave mistake.”

She looked down at his hand, and he dropped her arm. “Giles…that bitch kicked my ass all over that warehouse. I need every advantage in this. Every advantage I can get, to protect Dawn.”

“I see.” Once again removing his glasses, Giles massaged his aching temples. “Just be careful, Buffy.”

He looked up, and found he spoke to an empty room. The back door of the shop drifted closed with the light breeze.



Chapter 6

Riley stalked into the crypt, dragged Spike out of his chair, and threw him across the room, slamming a stake into his chest. Spike groaned in agony, more at not seeing the Slayer again than the pain, then realized he wasn’t turning to dust.

“Wood-grained plastic. Pretty effective, huh?” Riley sneered into the vampire’s face.

Riley felt a hand on his shoulder, then a fist connected with his jaw. He looked up to see a very pissed Slayer staring down at him, then watched her as she helped Spike over to his chair, stake still in place. She pulled it out and threw it across the room where it clattered in the corner.

“Buffy?” he said, confused to the core.

“Riley. What gives?” She reached down, and hauled him upright with one hand. “Didn’t get the point earlier? We’re done. Back off. Go away.”

“Buffy? Why are you so concerned about Spike?”

“That is none of your concern, Riley.”

Realization hit him, and his eyes widened in disbelief and disgust. “Him!? You broke up with me for him?” His lip curled with disgust. “You never stooped this low before, Buffy.”

She sniffed, about to deliver a scathing retort, and smelled…something. She closed her eyes, and saw a scene in her mind…Riley…and some vamp bitch…and she was feeding off of him.

She was in front of him in two steps, grabbing his arm and yanking up the long sleeve of his sweater. She found exactly what she thought she would—bite marks in the bend of his elbow. Fresh bite marks, and old ones as well. “I’m low? At least I’m not paying for it!” she growled. “Get away from me, Riley. I never want to see you again.”

He started out the door, then paused long enough to point at Spike. “This isn’t over yet, Spike.”

“Yes, it is, Riley. He can’t hurt you—but I can.”

He turned to look back at her, then left the crypt, slamming the door behind him.

Buffy turned to Spike where he sat in the chair. “Spike?” she said, her voice filled with fear.

“I’m okay, pet. Not fatal.” He still held his hand to his chest.

“What can I do?”

“I’ll be fine, pet. Just grab me some blood out of the fridge.” She turned, and moments later, brought him a quart jar of blood. She planted herself on the arm of his chair, and watched him drink it down.

“You…how did you know about Riley? And that vampire bitch? Even though, you know, it was kinda distracting.”

“Could smell it, pet. Couldn’t you?” He gasped, feeling the tissues in his chest burn as they began mending themselves.

“Was that what that smell was? I didn’t know.” She leaned over and pulled his shirt up to look at the depression in his chest. “You’re healing fast.”

“Blood. Blood does it.”

“Blood.” She picked up the jar, looked into it. “Blood magick.” She thought of an old rock album, and looked at him under her eyelashes. “Sex magick too?” she said innocently.

He looked up at her in shock, then watched as she ran her finger around the curve of the jar’s inside. She reached out with a blood-drenched finger, and touched it to his mouth. “You missed some,” she said, and his lips welcomed her finger between them.

He ran his tongue from base to tip of her finger where it rested inside his mouth. It was pig’s blood, kind of bland, but underneath, there was her—her essence, her scent, her flavor. His demon screamed for release, and even without the chip firing, he clamped down on the thought. Not food, he thought to himself.

Buffy leaned close to whisper in his ear, “No, not food, Spike. Better than food.” She traced her tongue around the curve of his ear, then exhaled lightly, eliciting a gasp and freeing her finger.

“Buffy,” he said, grabbing her arms. “What in the bleeding hell…?”

“Spike,” she groaned. “Are you going to make me go through this virginy stuff every time? Funny, but it should be the other way around,” she said, eyes shining and a grin on her face.

“What did Giles say?”

She sat back on her heels. “Oh, that. Well, you were right.” She leaned forward. “Now, can we, uh, get down to business?”

“Buffy! What did Giles say—exactly?”

“Well, you know Giles. Blah, blah, blah, enhanced powers, great speed, faster healing, blah, blah, blah. Do you have a bed around here?”

“Downstairs. Buffy, please!”

She looked up, and stopped stroking his thigh. Her thoughts came through to him clearly—him on his back, her on top, touching each other, buried in her…. He shook his head, then looked into her eyes. “Buffy, why are you acting like this?”

She looked up at him, pouting. “You think all these nasty thoughts all day, and I can see them in my mind. We…connected. You and I. And you…made me feel like nobody else, ever. Not Riley. Not Parker. Not even Angel.” She saw his look, and hurried on. “Spike, it was good. It was better than good. I want you. I need you. Isn’t that enough for now?”

He consciously blocked all romantic thoughts from his head. “I just want to be sure that you know what you’re doing. And with whom.”

She put her hands on either side of his head. “Yes, Spike, I know. Yes, I want this. Yes, I want you, and need you, Spike.” She leaned forward, and kissed one eye. “I want you, Spike.” She kissed the other eye. “I need you…inside me.” She planted tiny kisses over his cheekbone, to his temple, down his jaw. “I want to touch you.” She trailed her mouth over the underside of his chin, to his throat. “I want to make you feel good too. I want you to scream my name,” she murmured against his neck.

She ran her tongue over his Adam’s apple, back up his throat, and hovered over his mouth. “Make love to me, Spike. Or fuck me. Or something. Just do it, and quit teasing me.” She closed her eyes and kissed him, opening her mouth for his tongue as it thrust itself at her.

She moaned against his mouth as she felt herself lifted into his arms. He pulled her onto his lap, his hands on her ass, cupping it and tilting her pelvis toward him. Her groin pressed against the bulge growing in his jeans, and they both groaned aloud.

“Bed, Spike?” she said, dragging her mouth from his.

She stood, dragging him with her by the shirt. She backed toward the hole in the floor, leading them into the basement below the crypt. She descended the ladder, still pulling him, and, on reaching the bottom, pressed him against the rungs, gripping them behind him, and kissed him again.

She grabbed his hands and walked him backward toward the bed. She stopped next to it, and raised her eyes to his. “Spike, I just want to make sure you want this…” she said mischievously. At the disbelieving look that crossed his face, she said, “Please—undress me.”

His hands were trembling as he undid the clasp in her hair, tossing it on the bedside table. He ran his hands through the waves, tousling them, her scent filling his nostrils. His hands went to her waist, touching a line of bare skin between her pants and sweater, and she gasped. She lifted her arms, and he pulled the sweater off, tossing it to the floor. His hands grazed her shoulders, pushing aside one of the spaghetti straps that held her camisole in place, and bent his head to press his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Her arms coiled around his head as he explored her skin with lips and tongue. She threw her head back, and he ventured further. Her pulse was a throbbing cherry beneath his tongue; he could taste the copper beneath the skin. His demon raged, wanting him to share the wealth, and he slammed it inside an iron cage in his mind.

He stroked her back as he lifted the camisole, feeling the silken play of her skin beneath his fingers. It, too, landed on the floor, and she was bare from the waist up, warm and golden in the flickering candle and torch light. He dropped to his knees, and worshipped her body with his mouth, touching her everywhere he could reach.

His hands fumbled with the button on her leather pants until it snapped open. She watched as he glided them off her hips, leaving her in her tiniest pair of black underwear. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised, then pushed her gently to sit on the edge of the bed.

Looking at her feet, he saw her in boots again. Always boots for this one, he thought. He picked up one foot, found the boot’s zipper, and drew it down, pulling the boot off with the other hand. He tossed it away, and its mate soon joined it. He pulled off one sock, stroking her foot with his palm, and kissing the tip of her toes. She giggled, and pulled away, but not fast enough. “We’ll have to explore that one another day, pet,” he said, then drew her great toe into his mouth, sucking gently. “I think you’ll like that.” He ripped away the other sock, and she scooted up onto the bed, bare but for a tiny scrap of material.

She leaned back against the headboard of the four poster, and said, “Now,” she said, with an evil glint in her eye. “Undress for me.”

He pulled his tee shirt off, abs rippling. He turned to sit and take off his Docs, and felt her hand stroke his back. He turned to look at her, and she wagged her eyebrows at his pants. “Those have to come off.”

“They are, pet,” he said, standing again. Turning, he let her see the bulge in his jeans. He undid the button at the top, then slowly drew the zipper down until the pressure made his cock force its way out of its confinement. He pushed the jeans down and kicked them aside. He watched her eyes travel hungrily over his body, smelled her arousal throughout the cavern. For that moment, she was his world, and he felt like hers.

The feeling scared him, and he reacted the only way he knew how. He put on the Bad Boy. He stood, hips cocked, sneer on his lips, dangerous look in his eye, and put his hand on his growing erection. “Are you sure, absolutely certain, that you really want this, Slayer?” he said, in his best Big Bad voice.

She knew better than to laugh. “Positive. Absolutely. Come here.” She licked her lips, and reached for him.

“Oh no you don’t. On your stomach, Slayer.” At her puzzled look, he said, “You told me to do anything to you, so it’s my choice. On your belly, now, or you won’t get this,” he threatened, wagging his cock at her.

Obediently, she turned over. He covered her with his body, his erection between her firm buttocks. She tried to arch her hips, and he pressed down, holding her still. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, then brushed it to one side to expose the back of her neck. He kissed her neck and shoulders, single-minded in his quest to taste every inch of her skin. She writhed beneath him as he kissed down her spine, her tender sides, and her hypersensitive thighs, to the backs of her knees.

She moaned. She squealed. Gasping, panting, she tried to roll over without success. Spike held her still, and worshipped her with his mouth, and she had to lay there and take it. Then he ran his tongue up the crack of her ass, and she nearly jumped off the bed.

When she was near tears and dripping wet, he rolled her over, yanked off the pretend panties, and covered her with his body again, face to face. “Spike, please…I can’t take much more.”

“You’ll take it all, Slayer. Remember, you wanted this.” He kissed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She ran her hands over his back, feeling the muscles flex under his skin as he dipped his head to engulf one of her nipples with his mouth, drawing it tight. He thought of tasting her juices that were copiously flowing, dampening her thighs and staining his sheets, and realized that neither one of them could hold out that long.

She was moaning, whispering, but he heard her clearly. “Spike, please…please…I need you inside me…fill me…feel me…God….” She raked her hands through her hair, then pulled him up until they were face to face again. “Please, baby, please, now….”

She reached down, and her hand gripped him hard, positioning him to enter her. She arched her back, and he slid inside her effortlessly. She felt like liquid silk against his sensitive skin, fiery hot the deeper he went. She reached down, cupping his ass with her hands, and pulled him into her as deep as he could go.

He looked into her eyes, and was unable to tear himself away. Truly the mirrors to her soul, she looked at him with such longing and passion it could have stolen his breath. Cupping her cheek, he began to move slowly with long deep strokes that penetrated to her core.

They danced, their bodies moving as one in an undulating wave that built them both toward their ultimate crescendo. Ancient rhythms driving them, every movement, every touch built counterpoint to the beat of her heart. She begged him to go faster, and still he kept to the same maddening pace, even as she clawed his back. She tried to touch him, or touch herself, he wasn’t sure which, and he grabbed her hands and held them over her head with one hand.

He kissed her like he was fucking her, with slow deep thrusts of his tongue into the wetness of her mouth. She arched her hips, she writhed, she locked her ankles around his waist, but still he kept his rhythm steady.

Then he stopped, and Buffy nearly cried out loud.

He looked down at her flushed face and glistening body. “Now, Slayer. Let’s put you in the driver’s seat.” With a twist of his hips, he rolled them, and she was on top of him. She looked down at him lying beneath her, and felt her body stretching pleasurably to accommodate him at this new angle. She arched her hips, flexed her thighs, and she was riding him. She reached over his head to grab onto the headboard for leverage, and he saw her nipple mere centimeters from his mouth. He snagged it as it brushed his cheek, sucking it between his lips. A bolt of pleasure shot through her, and she grabbed his head with one arm, urging him onward. He ran his hands over her ass, guiding her hips onto his throbbing cock.

“Spike, I need more…so close…harder, love….” She twisted, and he was back on top again, watching her toss her head frantically side to side. “Make me come, Spike…make me come, please….”

With vampire strength he began thrusting into her wetness, their flesh slapping together violently as he ran his hands over her breasts, her face. She opened her eyes and their gazes locked as she continued to talk to him. “Oh, God…that’s it, Spike…fuck me hard…hard…fast…deep…can you feel it? My body…Slayer…sweet Slayer meat…fuck it hard, Spike….” She tossed her head, sweeping her hair to one side. “Bite me, Spike. Put your mark on me. Please.”

“Buffy, are you sure?”

“Bite me. Teeth or fangs, I don’t care. Just bite me, please.”

Discretion warred with valor, and won. Spike dipped his head to her neck, capturing her pulse with blunt teeth where it beat wildly like a captured bird at the side of her throat. Control, he thought. Control. He increased the pressure slowly as he drove himself inside her, until he was afraid he would break the skin. Tension lay thick on the air as she continued to climb to her peak.

Suddenly, she grabbed his head and held it in place. Surprised by the move, his teeth grazed her skin harder when his jaw flexed. Blood flooded his mouth, overwhelming his senses, and as her slick inner muscles clamped down on his cock, her body erupted in a frenzied heart-pounding climax that had her writhing beneath him, her nails buried in his head as his teeth were buried in her neck.

His last conscious thought was, bloody hell, I’ve marked her, when his cock erupted, joining her in driving, thoughtless need. He drank deep of her, the taste gone completely to his head as he drowned in the sight, the smell, the taste, the feel of the Slayer. Blood magick. Sex magick.

She pulled at him, sought out his mouth, and tasted her blood on his lips. Without thought, she bit his lip, her sharp teeth breaking the skin, and sucked hard, his cool blood sliding into her mouth and down her throat. Together, they tasted their blood on each other, mingling on their lips as they kissed, their bodies still throbbing. As they kissed, something tightened between them, the mysterious connection, and she shuddered as another orgasm wracked her body, and Spike pulled back, surprise on his face, as he began coming as well.

Limp and completely spent, he collapsed onto his back, still touching her as he lay there, panting. Realizing what he had done, he said, “Bloody hell, Buffy, I bit you. I broke the skin. Pet, I’m so sorry…did I hurt you?”

She leaned up on her side, eyes sparkling. “No, you idiot, you didn’t hurt me. And I bit you back, remember?” She touched his lip, and his cock twitched. She grinned at the power she had over him, and reached down to lightly touch the head. “Again, love? So soon?”

He grabbed her hand, and held it to his chest. “Not quite yet, love. Let me recover from your last assault.”

She looked down where their hands rested, expecting to see the depression where Riley had stabbed him. His chest was perfectly smooth; the only marks were the scratches she’d put there at some point. “Your chest. How?”

He looked down. “Blood magick, love. A Slayer’s blood is very…potent, you know. Also an aphrodisiac, I hear.”

She grinned widely. “Aphrodisiac, huh?” She swept her hair to one side, and said, “Then bite me again, and let’s…well…you know…” she said, dropping her eyes.

He looked at the seeping mark on her neck, nearly healed now. “I can do just as well without it, pet. You’re my aphrodisiac. Just…touching you…tasting your skin…” he ran his finger down her throat to her chest. “Don’t need anything more than be around you.” He closed his eyes, and she looked down to see his physical reaction to her presence.

He threw his arm over his eyes. “God help me, Buffy—this is wrong, me and you—I know it is. Vampire, Slayer. But I can’t—can’t get you out of me. You’re there, every minute, every day….” She put her hand over his mouth, stopping him.

“Maybe it isn’t wrong, Spike. I mean—you’ve been helping me anyway with demons and vamps. I can count on you—I trust you.” She thought of Dawn, and he picked up on her thought.

“The Niblet? Why are you worried about the Niblet?”

“That girl—the one that kicked my ass? I don’t want her to hurt Dawn.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the Niblet for you. It’s the least I can do.” He paused, then added, “Uh, speaking of…what did she and your mum say…about us?”

“Well,” Buffy said, settling against his chest again, “Dawn squealed, which is Dawnspeak for yay, and Mom actually gave me her blessing. Which reminds me,” she said, eyes narrowing, “You’ve been hanging out with my mother?”

“Uh—Joyce is a nice lady. She listens. And she makes great cocoa, always has some of those tiny little marshmallows….”

“Uh-huh.” She gave him a skeptical look, and he caved.

“I wasn’t there a lot—just pop in once in a while for a look-around, making sure she and the Niblet were okay. Not like you were there all the time, now, was it?”

Buffy had the good grace to look guilty. “She thinks you’re a nice guy. And she calls you William.”

He looked embarrassed. “She told me that Spike didn’t fit. Asked for my given name. Didn’t feel right to be rude, so….”

She grunted, then climbed off the bed. He watched her wander around the cavern, then saw what her eyes were drawn to—a canvas covered table in a dark corner. He leaped from the bed, but was a shade slower than she was. She pulled the canvas off the table, and saw what lay underneath.

There was a dresser, or something, she saw, and it was covered with photographs, drawings, papers with hastily scribbled words…of her. About her. Images of her stared back at her. There was one, a simple line drawing of her sleeping face. High school pictures. Baby pictures. She reached for a stack of papers, and jumped back when Spike insinuated himself between her and the table.

“Spike, what is this?”




Chapter 7

“I…. Buffy….”

“Spike?” Pieces fell into place, and she turned to look at him, realization plain in her eyes. “You’re in love with me.”

He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t bear to see the look in her eyes, the disgust. “I tried…not to, I mean…but I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t get you out of my mind. Seeing you…working with you…but, I guess we’re all done with that now, aren’t we?” He stared at the ground between his feet, his eyes half-closed, waiting for her to punch him and leave.

She was shocked, at first, but then it all just seemed to make sense. The attempted kiss outside the Bronze. How many coincidental meetings? The back yard, the other night. Just now. And all the unspoken, unnamed emotions that she always saw in his eyes, every time they looked at her, so many times when they talked, slayed, fought. Every time they were together, in fact.

She took a step, then another, and saw him flinch slightly, as if bracing himself. The little movement broke her heart—was she that big a bitch? What did he think she would do, hit him? She thought of kissing him, and he raised his head, eyes blazing and nostrils flaring.

“Buffy?” Then she was kissing him, touching him, and all thought left him with the intense sensations she roused.

“Spike,” she said, against his mouth, “You weren’t going to tell me?”

He pulled away from her then, and went over to snag a cigarette. He took a drag, then exhaled the smoke, studying her face through the artificial haze. “Well, pet, I think that it was just yesterday that I told you of the events that made me who I am. Part and parcel was my infatuation with Cecily.”

He felt her bristle at the name, and smiled inwardly, then continued. “I know they say, once a fool, always a fool. But still—sometimes a man can’t handle that kind of rejection. Especially not…more than once.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought it was a fluke. Last night. I thought…I thought that things would go back to normal after you…got it together, and that…you would kick me in the head, virtue fluttering…and it would be all my fault, the big bad, seducer of virgins and all that.”

“You had that little faith in me. I am amazed. And I am so not a virgin!”

“Pet, I didn’t have that little faith in you. Just figured that you would…revert to type, I suppose. Have that little faith in myself.” He tossed the half-smoked cigarette away, and began to pace. “Maybe you missed the hidden undertones in my story, pet. Perhaps the subtext was too subtle, the lesson didn’t ring true for you.” He stopped in front of her, looked down at her. “I’m a loser, pet. Always and forever a loser. Always bollixing things…Cecily…looked at me, and saw a loser. Dru…Dru left me for a bleeding Chaos demon. And you…you never see me as anything…worthy of you.” He turned his head, but not before she saw the shine of tears filming his eyes. “Never worthy…never worthy enough for anyone…beneath you.”

His words, simply spoken in a trembling voice, hit her in the stomach and knocked the wind out of her. Beneath you. That was the exact words she had used to him last night, the ones she had so carelessly picked to toss in his face as she left him on the ground. Beneath me. You’re beneath me. They mocked her with their cruelty.

His back to her now, he looked at the ceiling. “So, pet, how the bloody hell was I supposed to tell you I loved you? So you could kick me in the teeth again? Tell me I have no soul, so I can’t love? Tell me that there’s no good inside me, that love that feels this good can’t live in someone evil and soulless like me?”

She thought about what he was saying. It was true, all of it—she saw the world in black and white, no gray areas—good and evil—right and wrong. Even with Angel, she thought. When he had a soul, he was good—and therefore, worthy of her love. When he lost it, because of her, and their actions together, she…she cast him away. Cut him loose from her heart, and even killed him in the end.

She shook her head to clear her mind, and looked at the man studying the room as if she wasn’t there. She could almost see anguish rising off his body like steam, his torment so evident in his posture. His shoulders were slumped in defeat, and he waited. Waited for the shoe to drop.

She stepped toward him, and ran her hands lightly over his shoulders and down his sides to his tapered waist. “You’re right, Spike. You’re right. But that was…before.”

He stood completely still, stiff and unmoving, not even breathing. “Before what, Buffy?”

She kissed him between his shoulder blades, ignoring the sparks the simple gesture ignited in her groin. “Before we talked. Before I knew you…better. Maybe rejection made you the monster you were…but maybe…maybe love could make you the man that you were meant to be.”

She spoke softly, but knew that he heard every word. She laid her cheek against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I can’t promise you anything, Spike. But I can…try. I want to know where this will lead. Where this will take us. But, I won’t ever know…if I don’t let it happen.”

“But do you want this to happen, Buffy?” She felt him move away, then suddenly he was across the room from her. She stared, trying to remember him moving away. “Do you want this?”