The Bottom Line by Dirktavian

Chapter #1 - One- I'll Follow You

Disclaimer: Joss & Mutant Enemy own all, but I have to do something to make up for no BtVS on TV and no deleted scenes on the DVDs! Songs lyrics by Martin L. Gore of Depeche Mode’s album “Ultra,” published by EMI Music Publishing. Feedback: Yes, please—It feeds the muse! But please be kind—This is my first fanfic. Buffy recoiled in horror from that beautiful alabaster skin she had beaten and bloodied. Her eyes went wide as she stifled a cry with her hand over her mouth. Her actions had repulsed her so—He was only trying to save her from herself, yet again. But she ran from him and into the Police Station, as she had originally intended. Later that night, she had repeated those words to Xander and Anya that filled her with shame—“You only hurt the ones you love.” As she lay in her bed the following night, staring at her ceiling, she recalled every word he had said to her the previous night in that alley behind the Police Station, as well as every hateful thing she had spat back at him. Her face began to flush with embarrassment. Why was it so difficult to be with Spike? She knew Spike would do anything for her, as he comforted her every time she was willing to open herself up to him. But self-loathing is a funny thing. She had refused his words of love again last night, refusing to believe that he was capable of love, because she was too shut down to love anyone right now, including herself. After all, if Spike was capable of loving her without a soul, then why would Angel have treated her the way he did after their one night together? And if Spike really loved her, then that would mean she was worthy of love. But most of all, she knew that Spike loved her, even though she called him an “evil, soulless thing” time and time again, and even though she had said there was nothing good or clean in him. In reality, she knew she was the monster, and she had been talking about herself the entire time she was pummeling Spike into the pavement. She kept hitting him through her tears, even though his Vamp face had receded, replaced by his beautiful human form. He didn’t even attempt to block her bone-crushing blows, allowing her to vent her frustration, pain, and self-loathing onto him. He took it all, and she wasn’t worthy of that kind of love and devotion. It was so real, that it frightened her. And she didn’t think she could offer Spike anything other than his “crumb” in return. She took a deep sigh and tried to force the guilt and shame down, back into the land of denial and repression, where she had spent so much of her life. She made up her mind in that instant—It was time to seek out Spike and try to do a little damage control. Of course, she couldn’t actually say she was sorry, just like she had only thanked him once in his entire un-life. But she’d make it up to him. She got an evil gleam in her eye as she thought of the delicious ways she could make Spike understand how horribly she felt about hurting him, without saying a word at all. She threw back the covers from her bed, as she realized she wouldn’t be getting any rest tonight until she had settled her conscience. She put on his favorite color—black, and headed out of her window toward the cemetery. Buffy took Mr. Pointy with her just in case, but she was relieved that no demon or vamp would deter her from her destination. The Slayer began getting the tinglies as she approached Spike’s crypt; she loved that combination of sensing he was near and anticipation of the evening’s activities. She heard a low, thumping base of music being played in his crypt. Spike sprawled on the chair in the upper chamber of his crypt, with his leg draped over one arm of the chair. Propped up on his elbow, he rested his head on his hand so he could apply the ice-pack to his still very swollen shiner. He was so tired of trying to chase his beautiful girl—So tired of trying to convince her that there was nothing wrong with them being together. He had been playing on her fears of being a demon so that she would willingly leave her friends and be with him. He knew it was selfish, but he saw how trying to be “alright” for her friends was exhausting her. He hated to see that fake smile plastered on her face so that Red and the Whelp would leave her alone. He hated taking the brunt of her anger and pain—Playing another round of “kick the Spike” was getting old, fast. “Sod it,” he muttered, but he knew that was a lie. He would take the abuse again and again, if it meant he could be with her, even if for a little while. The blood and whiskey would deaden the pain while she was gone, and his heart would sing like the nancy-boy poet he really when she was with him. He had this love-hate relationship with the Slayer from the moment he saw her luscious hips undulating at the Bronze four years ago, so he was used to the merry-go-round by now, even though it wasn’t getting him anywhere. His bleedin’ head hurt, so he decided not to think anymore. He took a drag off the cigarette that had slowly been burning in his other hand, and just concentrated on the low-tones of the music he had playing in the background. He bit out a harsh laugh as the words of the song cut to his quick— “Like a cat dragged in from rain, who goes straight back out to do it all over again, I’ll be back for more. It’s something that is out of our hands; something we will never understand. It’s a hidden law—The apple falls, destiny calls, I follow you. Like a pawn on the eternal board, who’s never quite sure what he’s moved towards, I walk blindly on. And heaven is in front of me; your heaven beckons me enticingly. When I arrive, it’s gone. The river flows, the wise man knows, I follow you. I’m yearning, I’m burning, I feel love’s wheels turning…” Just then, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The corner of his mouth crooked up in a wicked smile when he sensed his Slayer approaching. He thought about meeting her at the door, but he didn’t want to rush over like the git he really was. ‘No,’ he thought, ‘let her come to me.’ Just then, he could hear the door to the crypt slowly squeaking open—not the usual approach for the Slayer who so often had kicked open his crypt door and boldly sashayed into his living quarters. No, tonight she seemed more respectful, more… penitent. Against the more rational part of his brain, his betraying body slowly stood and turned to look at her. She was a vision in black with a tight-fitting, low-cut, long-sleeved top, leather pants, boots, with flushed cheeks and eyes hazed over with lust. He could smell her desire from across the room, and the words of the song that continued to play in the background spurred him on and propelled his feet toward her—“Like a moth on love’s bright light, I will get burned each and every night—I’m dying to. The sun will shine, the bottom line, I follow you.” By the end of the song, he was standing in front of her. She had frozen in the doorway with her lips parted slightly; her deep, ragged breathing making her chest rise and fall quickly to match the increased beating of her heart. He knew instantly she wanted him, but as always, he would wait for her to make the first move. He tried to read the look in her eyes—the big green eyes that had looked so lost and cold for the last several months since Red brought her back was replaced by a sheen of unshed tears. His eyes followed the hard lines of her jaw to her luscious, full lips, down the elegant curve of her neck, to her beautiful chest as it rose and fell in expectation. She reached out a trembling hand to lightly touch his swollen eye. He couldn’t help but wince a little from the pain, and her eyes immediately found something very interesting to look at on floor of the crypt. Spike put his index finger under her chin and forced Buffy to return his gaze. He softly spoke to her, “Luv, you have nothing to…” “Shhh,” she said as she softly put her finger to his lips. “No words tonight. Just let me…” and with that, she gently cupped his cheek and guided his lips to hers. It was the barest whisper of a kiss. Their lips tingled as they ghosted over each other, slowly parting to deepen the kiss. Buffy felt her nipples stiffen under the soft fabric of her shirt, and she began to feel even more aroused. Spike instantly hardened—‘Love’s bitch, alright,’ he thought to himself. ‘One kiss from her, and I’m worse than bloody Pavlov’s dog!’ Buffy softly broke away from the kiss, but held his intense gaze. He looked at her in wonder, but he never knew if they’d be fighting or shagging next. ‘Probably both before the night’s through,’ he thought, somewhat bitterly. Buffy placed both of her hands on Spike’s forearms and gently urged him to walk backwards toward the couch. With Spike’s leg between hers, they scissor-stepped the entire way, not wanting to lose that contact. When he felt the couch at the backs of his knees, he sat down, and grabbed her by the hips to straddle his lap. Buffy proceeded to slowly brush soft kisses over his face—first the scarred eyebrow, and then the other, followed by his cheekbones, and his nose. When she placed the lightest kiss on his swollen and bruised eye, Spike willed himself not to wince in pain. He knew she was trying to make things right with him, and he didn’t want to add any guilt to the fire that had been fueling Buffy for the last several months. She again approached his mouth, and the kisses became more intense, more passionate and needy. Their tongues caressed each other and then explored lips and teeth, making Buffy moan as she ground her pelvis against Spike’s very hard, denim-clad erection. Spike moved his hands to grab at her ass, encouraging her to grind herself against him again. Without breaking the kiss, Buffy’s fingers fumbled to open all of Spike’s shirt buttons. She caressed the smooth, hard planes of his chest, and she felt his kisses become even more intense. He was so turned on that he began taking unneeded gasps of air. He couldn’t wait to have her again. She had run from him last night. After his self-satisfied smirk, she bolted from the crypt’s door before even coming in. He had felt the intensity of her longing for him through the door—had known she was on the other side warring with herself, but she had left before either of them could be satisfied. Then she had been ungrateful—no, make that hateful, when he had tried to take care of that terrible accident. He pushed those thoughts aside. No sense in being a ponce, focusing on hurt feelings. ‘Specially not when there was the Slayer’s hot, tight little body writhing on him like a bitch in heat. For a moment, he could hear the lyrics of the music that was still playing in the background through the haze of lust that was clouding his mind— “Sister of night, when the hunger descends, and your body’s a fire, an inferno that never ends. An eternal flame that burns in desire’s name. Sister of night, when the longing returns, giving voice to the flame, calling you through flesh that burns, breaking down your will to move in for the kill. Oh sister, come for me, embrace me, assure me. Hey sister, I feel it too. Sweet sister, just feel me—I’m trembling, you heal me. Hey sister, I feel it too.” He couldn’t take it anymore. Oh, yeah, she had gotten her fire back—there was no doubt about that. Spike had to feel that velvety heat that only she could give him. He started to lift her to remove the clothes from her leather-clad bottom, but she had stilled his hands and had broken away from the kiss. “No,” she said huskily. Before the hurt and confusion could fully register in his eyes, she continued sweetly, “It’s my turn to show you...” With that, she extricated herself from astride his lap, and kneeled down on the floor in front of him. Her hands finished unbuttoning his shirt, and she stroked his chest with feather-soft touches that sent his skin buzzing with excitement. She unbuttoned all five buttons on his Levis, and his beautiful erection finally sprung free from its denim prison. Spike gasped quietly in relief and anticipation. Buffy gingerly took his cock in her hands and slowly stroked it ever so lightly. Spike sucked in an unneeded breath. Then Buffy slowly licked the tip of his rigid shaft. Her tongue circled the head and flicked over the underside of the sheath, making his hips jerk a little. If he wasn’t careful, he could lose it quickly in her soft, warm, wet mouth. ‘Specially with the wicked things her cute little pink tongue was playing at. “Mmmmm…” Buffy moaned, and the vibration around his cock made Spike continue to take large gulps of air as he fought for his control under Buffy’s ministrations. While one hand held the base of his rigid shaft, her other hand softly caressed his balls and tickled the underside of his sac. She licked him up and down, swirling her tongue around the head when she reached the top of his member. Buffy couldn’t believe how turned on she became while pleasuring Spike. As her arousal grew, she began to rake her teeth lightly over his cock as she took him deeper into her mouth. Automatically, Spike snaked a hand into Buffy’s hair, grabbing at her possessively. “Fuck, Buffy. You’ll be the death of me if you keep this up, luv.” She kept her hands firmly on him, but drew her mouth away from his cock to quirk her eyebrow and gave him a lascivious half-grin. He loved that smoldering look in her eye that spoke of things to come. Spike grabbed Buffy under her arms and bodily hauled her up so they were face to face again on the couch. He crushed his lips to hers in a demanding kiss, trying to convey his fierce passion for her that nearly consumed him. “Need you,” he said in that delicious, bedroom voice of his that oozed sexual prowess. ******** More Spuffy lovin’ a-comin’! I promise!!!

Chapter #2 - Two- Trust me?

Disclaimer: Joss & Mutant Enemy own all, but I have to do something to make up for no BtVS on TV and no deleted scenes on the DVDs! Feedback: Yes, please—It feeds the muse! Previously, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Spike grabbed Buffy under her arms and bodily hauled her up so they were face to face again on the couch. He crushed his lips to hers in a demanding kiss, trying to convey his fierce passion for her that nearly consumed him. “Need you,” he said in that delicious, bedroom voice of his that oozed sexual prowess. ******** Spike stood up, still holding his hot little Slayer to his body. His jeans were still open and hanging onto his hips, and Buffy could feel his velvety shaft pressing urgently against her. Buffy's fingers played at the nape of his neck while her legs remained wrapped around his strong hips. Spike had moved his hands to support the Slayer under her delicious little bum, and he gave it a squeeze for good measure. She only ground her hips harder against his erection, and her panties were starting to get soaked with her excitement. Spike began to walk toward the opening in his crypt floor that led to his bedchamber. He loved kissing his Slayer when she was clutching to him like this; it reminded him of their first, torrid coupling. He groaned and breathed out, “Slayer...” Buffy loved that voice of his, the little nasties he would whisper only got her more revved up. She slid down his body and landed on her feet. She pulled on Spike’s hand as she headed down the stairs to his bedroom below. Buffy knew that Spike wouldn’t truly be satisfied until he could give her some satisfaction. She wanted so desperately to remain in control of the situation, but she also wanted to surprise Spike and show him how very sorry he was. She cringed again when she looked at his swollen eye. It suddenly hit her—She knew exactly how she could make it all up to poor Spikey! “Do you trust me?” she asked, echoing his words from two nights ago. Spike quirked the eyebrow above his unaffected eye, and a wolfish grin began to spread across his lips. “Singing my tune, are we, luv?” Spike imagined a replay of two nights ago, with his hands shackled and Buffy riding his cock into oblivion. Buffy led Spike by the hand toward his bed. The golden sheets shimmered in the candlelight. She picked up the handcuffs that were laying on the end table beside the bed, and dangled them from her index finger. She offered them up to Spike, and said, a little too sweetly, “Help me put these on?” Spike’s jaw just about hit the floor, and he replayed what she had just said in his mind. Quickly, Buffy removed her tightly fitting shirt, revealing a lacy black bra. She turned around and motioned for Spike to undo the clasp. She then turned back toward him, revealing her beautiful, pert breasts to his open, wanton gaze. She backed up and laid herself out on his bed, for his eyes to drink in the sight of her. Spike dropped his already unbuttoned shirt to the floor. Then, he grabbed each of the Slayer’s boots and unceremoniously pulled them off her as fast as he could. He planted his knee between her legs and leaned over her, grabbing her wrists with his free hand. Then she heard the ‘click’ of the handcuffs fastening her hands together. Buffy realized that, ironically, by submitting to Spike and putting herself in this vulnerable position, Spike would be thrown for a loop. She was, in a sense, more in control by giving up the control. At that moment, Spike began to slowly and reverently worship her body with his trembling hands. He ran his fingertips along her stretched out arms, almost tickling the sensitive undersides of her limbs. His thumbs caressed her face, and he ran his index finger along the curve of her lips. She nipped at his finger, drawing it into her mouth to slowly and sensually suckle on it. He drew in a shuddered breath, remembering her soft tongue on his cock just minutes ago. Spike’s fingertips glided down the long column of her neck, and with a feather-light touch, he continued the movement over her breasts and stomach. Spike began to knead her breasts and roll her stiffening peaks under the palms of his hands. His tongue joined in, flicking over her nipples. Then he sucked them deeply in his mouth — first one, then the other. Buffy couldn’t believe she was becoming even wetter as the feel of his tongue on her breasts went straight to her womb. But then again, Spike was pretty unbelievable in the things he could make her feel and do. The increased scent of her arousal only increased the desperation with which Spike worshiped her breasts. God, how he loved this woman! She drove him out of his fuckin’ mind, but he knew he wanted to be gentle with her. She would never allow such slow adoration of her body before, and this was his chance. He wanted to show her what she was missing by skipping to the pulse-pounding rough and tumble. Spike lowered himself to the top of her black pants, and began to slowly unbutton and unzip them. Buffy wordlessly complied when Spike urged her to lift her hips so he could remove her pants. “I love your teeny knickers, Slayer—Have I ever told you that?” Spike asked as he looked at Buffy, clad only in the small, lacy black thong that was soaked with her delicious aroma. “Think I got the message when you started pocketing my panties after our, our—interludes,” Buffy managed with a weak smile. “Do you know what Victoria’s Secret really is?” she asked huffily. “Sell the teeniest scrap of fabric for the most amount of money possible. Your penchant for steeling my unmentionables hasn’t been easy on my budget.” “’Spose you could just go ‘commando’ like me,” Spike offered suggestively. And with that last comment, he moved her panties aside and buried his head in her heat. “So wet for me, my delicious Slayer,” he murmured against her pussy. “Love the way you taste, pet.” He licked her up and down in long, sanguineous strokes. Buffy began to jerk her hips every time his tongue flicked over her clit. Soon, Spike started to suckle on the sensitive bundle of her flesh, as he slowly slid one long digit into her aching sex. He began pumping his finger in and out, sucking greedily on her clit, and Buffy felt the pressure building. Spike moved his finger in, out and around, until he zeroed in on the feel of the spongy spot inside her tight walls. Buffy instantly clamped down harder on his fingers, titling her pelvis down toward the bed, intensifying the feeling. “Spike, I need…” Buffy began to gasp, as she felt her climax building. “Anything for you, baby,” he said in that husky, bedroom voice. He continued to pump his finger in and out of her, hitting her g-spot deep inside. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want to make you come for me, luv.” Then he returned his mouth to her lips, which were now swollen with her blood and need. He began to lick her juices from her beautiful pink pussy, and his inner demon sang while hearing the thrum of her racing heartbeat in her thighs which were now gripping his head tightly. “So close—I need… more. Please…” Buffy begged. The cold metal handcuffs were only serving to heighten each sensation. She couldn’t touch him, and he had full access to every inch of her—it was delicious to be this vulnerable and open to him. Her nipples were as hard as jewels, and she felt a flush spread along her chest, as her insides continued to be increasingly coiled tighter, waiting for her release to spring her free. Spike slid a second finger into her tight cunt, and the feel of his fingers stretching her threatened to push Buffy over the edge. Then Spike’s talented lips and tongue returned to her clit, and began sucking and flicking hard and fast, as he pumped his fingers in and out of her at a quick pace. Spike took a quick break from working her clit to whisper, “Come for me, kitten,” and then he returned to laving her clit with his tongue. That did the trick—Buffy felt like she was going to fly apart into a million pieces. Her low moan turned into a wail—“Spike, yes! I’m coming!” He stilled his fingers deep within her, as she arched her hips violently off the bed. His mouth was still sucking on her clit, drawing out the delicious but overwhelming feeling of her orgasm. She came so hard that Spike had to hang on for dear life, as she slowly came down from her climax. Spike’s head was practically spinning, as his now painful erection was pressing into the bed. Her ambrosia was delicious, and he felt as if he could get drunk on this nectar for the gods. He slowly withdrew his two fingers from her pussy, and gently kissed his way up from her pelvis, over her stomach, to her breasts, and up to her soft, full lips. Buffy could faintly smell and taste herself on his lips, but was too turned on to care. She felt his cock pressing urgently at her entrance, and she bucked her hips forward, urging Spike in. Spike squeezed his eyes shut and muffled a moan, as the feel of her liquid heat engulfed him. Her strong muscles were still fluttering as a residual effect from her orgasm, and he loved the feel of her silken sex gripping his shaft. When he opened his eyes, her deep, hazel orbs were locked onto his face. He felt a knot grip him in his stomach, as she typically wouldn’t hold his gaze eyes during sex. She might briefly glance over at him, but then she quickly looked away or closed her eyes in an attempt to escape the feelings he tried to convey with his soft expression. His lips parted a little in a stunned expression, but he refused to break eye contact. Spike squeezed the muscles in his tight ass together as he began to push deeper into her core, forcing a breathy moan from Buffy’s lips. Her arms were still locked together and stretched above her head. Spike shifted positions so that his knees were helping to support his weight, and his arms snaked possessively around her body—one beneath her head, and the other around her waist. Buffy had locked her legs around his hips, as Spike drew his cock slowly out of her body, only to slide luxuriously back into her depths. The vampire and slayer didn’t take their eyes off each other—there were no words, no kisses, just a deep, penetrating gaze to accompany the incredible feelings of being locked together in this embrace. It was getting too intense, so Buffy had to break the silence. “I do trust you,” she said, almost too soft for a mere mortal to hear. Spike stilled his hips, and pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes squeezed shut again, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill. It was killing him to know that this was a brief moment of intimacy. Buffy had broken down her walls and let him into her heart, as well as her bed, but it wouldn’t last — It never did. After the shag, she’d be off and running. She wouldn’t acknowledge what he meant to her except on rare occasions after their, how had she put it? Oh yeah, their “interludes.” Still, hope springs eternal in the heart of a poet, even if it no longer beats. Buffy began undulating her hips again, signaling to Spike to keep up the pace. Spike placed his weight on both his knees and pulled his upper body away from Buffy a bit. Wanting to deepen the angle, Buffy lifted both her legs and placed them in front of his shoulders. Spike gritted his teeth to keep from losing it entirely right then and there. He frantically began to thrust into her, using his legs and one arm as leverage. He brought his left thumb to rub roughly against her clit. Buffy began panting and moaning loudly, “Yes, oh yes! Right there, baby. Give it me good!” Spike just clenched his jaw, his lips twisted in a snarl of feral intensity when he heard his own words come flying back at him. He knew he was in her blood and her brain when he heard that. His cock began to swell even more, indicating his eminent release. He kept slamming his hips against her, feeling her walls start to quiver, feeling his balls slap against her upturned ass. “Buffy, luv, I’m so close…” he ground out between thrusts. Soon, Buffy felt her orgasm overtake her, and Spike quickly followed her release as a roar of pleasure escaped his throat. After she caught her breath, she removed her legs from over his shoulders, and lay still underneath him. Spike slowed his unnecessary breathing, and supported his weight on his forearms, elbows and knees as he pressed his forehead to hers. “You were amazing, luv,” he panted. Without another word, he withdrew from Buffy’s heated body, and got the key to the handcuffs from the table. He released her from the silver shackles, and Buffy slowly sat up on the bed, rubbing at her wrists a little. “That was more fun than I thought it would be—the, um, handcuffs, I mean.” Spike smirked at her bumbling admission. He rose and put on just his black denim pants, and he handed Buffy her shirt. She took it from his hands with a puzzled little look on her face. Wasn’t it Spike who always wanted her to stay longer? Now he was rushing her out the door—Talk about your ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am!’ She pulled her shirt over her head sulkily, but she couldn’t quiet the little huff of air she let escape as she did so. When she refocused on Spike, she saw he had moved across the room and was pulling out a small, white box from behind the bar. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, but sat down in front of her while his hands kept fiddling with the box. She thought he looked almost nervous. “Now, this isn’t much, Slayer,” he started, “but I know that your birthday’s around the corner. Thought this little bobble might brighten your special day. Figured I wouldn’t be there to help you celebrate, and since you’re used to having your cake and eating it, too, cheers!” At that, he risked a glance at her eyes and extended the plain, unwrapped box to Buffy. Buffy knew his words, while true, were just his bravado trying to cover up for what she was now sure was uneasiness. She took the box from his extended hand, and opened it. She was stunned, to say the least. Of course, she figured it was jewelry of some kind, but she thought it would be like the silver skull ring she wore while she was engaged to Spike while under Willow’s spell. She pulled the tasteful gold locket and chain from the box and held it up in her hands. “I love it, Spike. Thank you,” she whispered, meekly. Spike looked relieved that she had liked his gift. He wanted to present the gift to her under perfect circumstances. Course, it figures that anything as twisted as they were involved in would require the mood be set with bloody handcuffs! But at least for this brief moment, when Buffy was really there with him, body and mind, his un-life couldn’t have been better. Spike gave a half-grin at his beautiful golden goddess, and said softly, “Happy birthday, Buffy.” Fin. ******** Aw… Our heroes, happy at last. Well, the big-O tends to do that for ya! Hope you enjoyed as much as I liked writing it. Please give feedback—thanks!

Chapter #3 - Three- I'm drunk.....

Buffy's heart sped up at the sight of Spike coming in the back door of her kitchen, six-pack of beer in hand. She secretly hoped he'd show, but then she remembered Richard. Poor Xander really didn't have a clue, she thought. If only he knew it was no use-- She had tried "normal" once, but that wasn't nearly enough for her. Even with his shiner, Spike was the sexiest thing going. And the way he could wag those eyebrows and quirk a smile really got her going....and his body.... She had to stop this before she drooled in front of her company. At least she knew she'd be saved from herself and her out of control libido tonight, with all of these people around. ‘Although, it wasn’t as if the fear of ever being caught stopped Spike at the Bronze the other night,’ she thought with a bit of excitement. The evening had passed with the usual birthday rituals: cake, presents, some flirting with Spike, as well as some snarky comments that made the Big Bad sound an awful lot like he was jealous of the merely human Richard. The tunes were playing, and Buffy desperately wished she could just dance with Spike, without all of her friends freaking out. Well, Dawn would be freaking in a different sort of way, but she couldn’t stand the looks she’d get from Willow, or Xander. So as she listened to the music, playing some bored (I mean board) game on the floor with Spike, she let her mind wander back to a time when she allowed herself the pleasure of dancing with her vampire. Buffy clearly remembered the night when she nearly gave herself to Spike for the first time-- a night that didn't end bringing down an abandoned house. She had a lousy day after the trio had messed with her, and she went to Spike's to see if she fit in any better there. After some shots ("ble-e-e-h-h"), she went out with Spike to a demon bar, but looking like a trophy girlfriend while her guy played kitten poker wasn't her idea of a good time, either. She much preferred being "Action Girl" to sit-around-and-do-nothing girl. She had thought the evening was a bust -- instead of beating heads, she had the run in with the demon that disappeared in the puff of smoke that left her sitting on her ass in the parking lot. Instead of doing something cool, she had to rescue a bunch of cute kittens by making them "scamper." She silently followed Spike back onto his motorcycle. At least being under the influence allowed her to mold her body tightly to Spike’s back, as she snaked her arms around his midsection. At first, she had thought he'd given up on the night, too. She thought the motorcycle was pointed in the direction of Revello Drive. She thought she'd blown the "date" with her expectations, and that Spike was taking her home to tuck her into her beddie-bye. But she turned her head to realize they were passing by the Bronze. She could hear the steady pulse of the music that lay behind those walls; the primal drum beat which called to her to let go, forget, and just feel. Quickly, she silently signaled Spike about the nature of her desire by tapping his elbow and pointing tot he Bronze off to the right. He pulled the bike over and parked. They could hear the sensuous beat of Nine Inch Nails playing as they entered the club. Immediately, Spike pulled Buffy by the waist onto the dance floor. He held her possessively, closely, and she didn't object. The lyrics floated through her slightly liquor-addled brain— "I'm drunk….. and right now I'm so in love with you. And I don't want to think too much about what we should or shouldn't do. Lay my hands on Heaven and the sun and the mood and the stars, while the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car. nothing quite like the feel of something new. Maybe I'm all messed up, maybe I'm all messed up, maybe I'm all messed up in you….. This is the only time i really feel alive….” That was it exactly. She felt *so* alive at that moment. She recalled that her veins were thrumming from the rapid beating of her heart. Spike was nuzzling her ear and smelling her hair, and Lord help her if it wasn’t giving her goose bumps….Hot with a fine sheen of sweat from all the bodies pressed together in the club, but the coolness of his beautiful hands ghosting over her arms, and then firmly grabbing her hips again. He ground his erection into her mound, and Buffy swore he inhaled her deeply, as if he was taking a drag off his favorite brand of cigarettes. She finally registered what he was doing…. ewwwwww. What was it with those vampires and their need to *smell* things. Yes, he had turned her on, and he was reveling in the evidence of her lust for him. The sultry beat of the music continued. The blonde pair looked as if they were practically mating on the dance floor, as there wasn’t even a millimeter separating the two of them. Spike lowered his hands from her hips and grabbed a hold of her ass, rubbing her against him again. She figured he needed that friction~ Hell, she certainly did! “I swear….. I just found everything I need~ the sweat in your eyes, the blood in your veins are listening to me. Well I wanna wrap it up and swim in it until I drown. My moral standing is lying down. Nothing quite like the feel of something new....” The breathy moan and sound of release at the end of the song signaled Buffy’s need to get out of the club. Buffy clearly remembered the look of shock in Spike’s wide eyes when she abruptly pulled away from him. She quickly grabbed the sleeve of his duster and turned her back to him, proceeding to pull Spike out of the Bronze after her. Poor guy probably figured she had sobered up, and the bossy chit was ready to pop him in the nose again. As soon as they went out the back exit, Buffy pushed Spike against the wall that faced the alley. “I once told you that you were beneath me….On your knees, boy.” And Buffy’s wicked little grin slowly spread across her face. Spike could tell she was still inebriated, but with the arch of a perfectly scarred eyebrow, he complied. Buffy took a hold of Spike’s hands and forced them down a path over her throat, along her breasts, and finally to rest on her hips. Spike closed his eyes and inhaled her fragrant musk deeply. “Mmmmm….so wet and ready for me, kitten,” he rumbled in a low voice. Spike pulled her pelvis closer to his face, and like a cat asking to be petted, he began nuzzling her lower abdomen. “Wanna see you, touch and taste you.” Instantly, Buffy felt her panties dampen in need. “Fuck,” she moaned breathily. “That pretty little mouth of yours says some of the damndest things.” Buffy closed her eyes and threw her head back. She couldn’t help but thrust her hips forward a bit, just for good measure. Spike gently eased the zipper of her jeans down, and started to pull the offending denim lower on her hips. His left hand moved her panties aside, and his long tongue stiffened and took a swipe along her slit. He was right, she was so wet and ready, and it was all for him. He began sucking hungrily on her clit, and she was drenched. Spike sneaked his hand into her panties, and slowly slid his fingers along her slippery, swollen folds. He began a measured pace, and moved his damp fingers roughly over her bundle of need. She bucked, and then her eyes snapped open. “Buffy, luv, come with me,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. Buffy remembered thinking that his voice was like warm honey and liquid sex. But, she couldn’t… “No,” she whispered back. “We can take the bike back to my crypt. Or just a few blocks over, my De Soto is parked,” he offered in an increasingly desperate tone. “No. I….I can’t,” her voice more firm this time. Just then, she felt it. The booze was wearing off, and the nerves were taking over. Her stomach clenched tightly with the thrill of what Spike was asking her to do. No, not clench….suddenly the right word struck her. Her stomach was lurching. Oh, great googly-moogly, she was going to hurl right here, right now, with Spike. It might not have been a date, but she sure as hell didn’t want to puke in front of him! Or worse yet, on him! She broke free of his grip once again and ran, pants still undone and hanging low on her hips, to hide behind the dumpster. She lost it right then against the side of the Bronze. Lovely. “And now my day is complete,” she said, her eyes shutting in frustration. “Come on, luv. Let’s get you home.” He knew she didn’t want to be seen, so he just approached the dumpster without turning the corner. Buffy straightened her clothes and zipped up. She had a disgusted look on her face when she finally approached Spike. Apparently, the alcohol was as “ble-e-e-h-h” coming up as it was going down! Buffy remembered going home and being sick several more times until all of those shots, and everything she’d ever eaten, were completely out of her system. But she still felt flushed from remembering that little interlude, before she had to go and kill the mood. Spike’s low rumble finally broke her out of her reverie, and forced her to respond~ “Penny for your thoughts, Slayer?” “Uh, a world of ‘NO’,” she said, with a little grin. Just then, a song by Nine Inch Nails started playing on the dance mix tape, and Buffy’s blush deepened a shade or two. “Just remembering some of Trent Reznor’s other works.” She couldn’t keep a straight face, but she managed to hide her sly smile pretty well. Spike’s eyes lit up at her admission, before his wide smile became a knowing smirk; his glance growing predatory and dangerous as the lust dilated his pupils and darkened the shade of his eyes. “Mmmm, luv, such pretty memories. Sure wish I could have had your cake and eaten it, too. Could sure do with some of that cream frosting,” he snarked, waggling his eyebrows shamelessly. He softly hummed along with the tune, keeping his intense stare on Buffy’s beautifully blushing face. Buffy playfully slapped at his arm. “Maybe later.” Evil grin.... I hadn't touched this fic in months, but here is a new chapter. Hope you liked it! Please send some loves....It feeds and inspires the muse!