Out of My Head by AJ Hofacre

Chapter #1 - feelin' pretty damn good

Author's Note: OoMH has finally come to the Bloodshedverse! w00t! Disclaimer: These characters (and a good deal of the dialogue) belongs to the genius that is Joss Whedon. But if Spike were mine, I'd have treated him better. banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part I... .:feelin' pretty damn good:. Harmony watched quietly (for once), gripping her crossbow. It was a little weird watching that queer, funny smelling little doctor stitching up Spike’s head while he was awake. She began to fidget. Hurry UP, I’m hungry! she whined mentally. Spike had threatened all kinds of bodily harm to her if she didn’t be quiet for the remainder of the surgery. Spike, meanwhile, was glowing – a fairly incredible feat for someone who’d been dead for over 120 years. "Listen to me. My stomach’s growlin’, I’m so starved." The doctor’s eyes widened as he applied the bandage to the back of Spike’s head. "I’m afraid I’m gonna have to have me a little snack." Without trying to decipher who the vampire was thinking of for the snack, Overheiser knew, and he gulped audibly. Spike smirked to himself – just the reaction he wanted. Fear. He turned his head and peered at him over his shoulder, cold, sparkling blue eyes glinting dangerously with hints of gold. "Oh, don’t worry," he began in his (extremely bad) attempt at being reassuring. "I won’t fill up on bread. I’ll still have plenty of room for the main course." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, said course kicked open the door and stood there, a cold look on her face. Spike’s eyes narrowed. Captain Cocksucker was right behind her. Never mind him, the demon ordered. He’d let Harm drain the stupid prick later. Right now, that luscious, nummy little Slayer was waiting for him... and he couldn’t WAIT to sink his teeth into that silky smooth, elegant, creamy neck... "Slayer!" he growled, eyeing her neck lustfully as he jumped off the operating table. Harmony ran to his side, readying the crossbow. Buffy and Riley positioned themselves, facing off against the two vamps. Overheiser’s eyes widened in fear, and he tried to make his way around the four, scrambling for the exit. He heard, rather than saw, Spike’s bones shift as his game face appeared, and shuddered when the Master vampire let out a growl. "Suit up, Harm," the bleach blonde ordered, his voice muffled slightly as he spoke around his fangs. Harmony promptly responded, her own features falling away into her demonic visage. Buffy watched for a moment, her gaze falling first on the younger vampire, then Spike, before spinning around and grabbing Overheiser before he could make it up the steps. "Stay here," she muttered, shoving him to the ground. "We’re gonna need you." Spike focused on the bane of his existence, for once trying to keep the smug, saucy grin from appearing on his face. He bounced gently on his heels, trying to contain his excitement. Finally. "Buffy. I swear, I was just thinking of you. I wanted to tell you the great news. My head’s all clear now. No more bug-zapper in my noggin." Buffy favored the bloodsucker with a tight glare. "That means I get to kill you," she ground out. Spike smirked. That was the little bitch he loved to hate. "You get to try," he replied haughtily. He was the Big Bad again. Not even the Slayer could touch him anymore. Of course, he thought, eyes trailing over Buffy’s golden, agile body, the chip can’t stop me from touching her... Everything was quiet for a minute, each team sizing the other up, but neither side daring to make the first move until it was Harmony, as per usual, who broke the silence. A loud SPROIING! sounded, followed by a dull thwack! Buffy’s head shot around, her eyes widening as she saw where the bolt had landed – right in Riley’s right thigh. Riley didn’t even seem to notice. Harmony glanced down at the crossbow, then back up at Riley meekly (which was actually quite an amusing sight to see in her game face). Spike sighed. And I expected anything more of her? "Oops," Harm squeaked, having at least the grace to look sheepish – as best she could, anyway. Spike grinned internally when he saw the rage that flashed across his little Slayer’s face. FUCK, yes! The burlap sack lumbered toward Harmony as Spike watched, and yanked the crossbow away from her. Unfortunately for him, as he was distracted by that, he failed to notice Buffy following her boyfriend. He turned his head back just in time for Buffy’s fist to meet his face. Riley threw Harmony down on the table, then picked her up again and threw her into the wall. Several pieces of equipment suffered from the impact, clattering, rattling, and dropping to the ground. Spike, meanwhile, had become Buffy’s living (well, unliving) punching bag. Her fists met his face in rapid succession, each time pushing him closer and closer to the table. He grunted and stumbled back against it. His eyes gleamed in absolute, unadulterated bliss. There was NOTHING he liked better than fighting Buffy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Army Boy punch Harm, then toss her across the room before leaning back against the counter, gasping. Spike raised an eyebrow. Hmmm... Harm recovered quickly and shoved a wheeled chair in his path. Spike snorted and tried to hold in a laugh when the meat-head tripped and went down. Harmony launched herself at him, kicking him in the face. Spike returned his focus to the Slayer, jumping onto the table and grinning down at her. He paused for a second, when he realized his new position gave him quite a view down Buffy’s blouse. Shaking himself out of the one little world that vampires were NOT supposed to tread path on, he snarled softly. He could hear and see Riley and Harmony still going at it, but they were on the other side of the room. And, as he let his eyes rove over Buffy’s petite little body again, he knew that he had been waiting too damn long for this moment. "At long last," he growled, leaping at Buffy and carrying her down with him to the ground. He straddled her and pinned her hands above her head. His knees and thighs squeezed a vice grip around her legs, effectively spoiling any of her attempts to kick or punch him off. He took a long while and stared at her, hungry and power-driven. Slayer’s blood was the strongest on the face of the earth, and as he listened to it rushing, surging through her veins as she bucked and struggled underneath him, he found himself wanting it more than anything. But as he looked more closely upon the young beauty, he found that he wanted something more than her blood as well. He wanted her. Buffy’s head jerked to the side, glaring at her captor furiously, and Spike’s figurative breath caught in his throat. Fuck. Now THAT was a picture. A sweaty, flushed, angry, writhing, DELICIOUS looking Slayer, bucking and twisting right under him. It didn’t help that she kept bucking up against him and making their hips rub together. And those cute little grunts she kept making weren't doing much to help him, either. She finally stopped fidgeting and glared up at him with enough hostility in her eyes that not even Donald Trump would have dared to cross her. Trying to get loose had proven to be a difficult task. Now that Spike was chipless, the metal immobilizer wasn’t gonna come in and... well, immobilize him. The vamp could put as much pressure as he wanted on her, and nothing would happen. He had an iron grip on her, and he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. Her chest was heaving, her pulse was racing, her breathing was completely haywire, and a fine sheen of sweat had settled comfortably over her cleavage. He lifted his gaze then and licked his lips, and Buffy was momentarily stunned by what she saw there – lust. Her stomach refused to do the ‘roll over and churn’ reflex and it horrified her. What the hell was going on?! He watched, captivated, as her pulse began to quicken. The sound of her heartbeat was drawing itself out and pounding in his ears, driving him absolutely crazy with desire. The vein in her neck was throbbing uncontrollably and Spike’s own body was starting to respond in kind. He was enraptured. The scent of her sudden fear that he’d detected wafting up from her fragrant body was amazing. But those weren’t the only things about her that had captured his attention. What really had him enthralled was Buffy herself. She noticed his distraction and, fueled by her fear of her lack of nausea at her body’s reaction to his, she bucked like a bronco underneath him, trying to throw him off. She froze completely when, instead of cursing and smacking her, Spike let out a low groan of pleasure. He ducked his head and inhaled the wonderful scent her body was emitting, nudging his face gently into the crook of her neck. She tensed immediately, then frantically began trying to kick him off. Spike let out a soft growl, and Buffy stilled at the sound of it, the commanding tone of it stunning her into obeying him. His hips bucked against hers once. One hand trailed down her body, while the other continued to tightly clasp her wrists above her head. The free hand slid down the center of her chest before moving to the right and gently cupping her breast. Buffy’s eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped as she gasped, her body unconsciously arched at Spike’s touch. Spike purred softly, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "Slayer," he rasped, before tilting his head down. His moist, cool tongue slid out and made a path from the sensitive spot behind her ear, all the way down to her throat, licking along the vein erotically. Buffy attempted to call out to Riley, but his name never made it past her lips. Instead, she felt her nipples harden and a soft whimper escape her throat, her eyes wide in surprise. Whoa. This was new. Spike’s hand moved away from the Slayer’s firm, pert breast and slid down between her legs, spreading them. He situated himself between them, his erection becoming harder as soon as he felt the heat from her center through her jeans. He felt her shudder and heard her emit another whimper at the feel of his cock against her, and he smiled to himself. Spike had never followed the rules before. He wasn’t gonna start now. The Slayer was in his arms, willing and vulnerable. She was making him hard. He was making her wet. All in all, he felt pretty damn good right now. He bent down and licked her neck again, dragging the tip of his tongue slowly across her pulse point. His hips began moving of their own accord, and slowly began to thrust against her. Buffy moaned softly and stared up at him with glazed eyes. "Spike?" she whispered weakly, her voice bordering on disbelief and fascination. He replied with another soft purr, and another thrust against her pussy, and Buffy rolled her head to the side, dazed by his ministrations. And that’s when he saw them – two faint, jagged, vicious looking puncture scars on her neck. He sniffed at them for a moment, before recognizing the scent around them. Angel. He growled in anger. It figured. Bastard always had to have them first. Something overcame him at the thought of his Slayer and his Sire, and he grasped the girl firmly. He attacked her neck, biting down viciously. Holding on firmly to her hips and pressing himself tightly against her, he clamped onto her wound like a leech, sucking hungrily. Buffy let out a squeak when she felt him pierce her skin, and that should have been a clue for her to pull away and beat the tar out of him. But the anger in his attack had disappeared. Now he was holding her to him, suckling her blood slowly and sensually, and it all had nothing short of a possessive manner. The pain soon dissipated and her body became flooded with excitement. The things he was doing to her... they could never be matched by anyone else. She tentatively thrust up under him, still mostly in control of her mind, then gave him another, more confident thrust. She writhed against him like a bitch in heat, straining to feel more of that enormous bulge in his pants pressed against her. Spike’s nostrils flared as he smelled her arousal, and his eyes widened in awe; she was enjoying this. And she was responding to him. Holy fuck. He had a heap of difficulty trying to contain the roar of pleasure that made an escape attempt when the girl began grinding against him, and... oh, fuck, he was so hard he was gonna burst if he didn’t get inside of her. And her blood... oh, her blood was amazing. He’d never tasted any like THIS before. At his first taste, he’d sensed her darkness, her light, her own strengths and weaknesses, and her very essence combined in it. Rich, thick, delicious, aromatic, heavenly, extremely potent Slayer’s blood... Buffy's blood. "Mine," he growled softly between swallows, intent on drinking as much of the nectar as he could without killing her. He couldn’t kill her now. Not after how his body had responded to hers, and vice versa. No way was he gonna let this girl die. This was so different from Angel. Angel had practically torn her up. His demon had surfaced and clouded his judgment, wanting for him to do nothing more than drain her of life. Spike... Spike was making this all erotic. God help her, but she was gonna die if he wasn’t inside her soon. But... her vision was starting to waver. And she was... really starting to feel sort of... faint... ((BAM!)) Spike let out a howl of pain and pulled off of Buffy, who let out a soft, weak moan before her head rolled to the side and she passed out. His eyes widened when he saw her, then spun around, snarling, to see who’d attacked him. His mouth dripping with crimson, he shot up as he came face to face with the angry glare of one Special Agent Riley Finn. Holding a steel chair. Dumbass. Spike shot him a bloody, fangy grin, and contentedly began licking the blood off of his lips, looking for all the world the cat who’d just ate the canary. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he stopped when he caught sight of the fainted Slayer, two tiny little streams of blood trickling out of her wounds, her head tilted to the side. Spike tilted his head, studying her, and felt his body respond accordingly to her position. Spread legs, flushed face, sweaty, mouth open... Oh, damn... she looks... ((BAM!)) Riley had hit him again. "Get away from her, Spike," the boy growled in what Spike assumed was a threatening manner. "Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend!" Spike’s tongue casually slid out and licked the last trickle of crimson out of the corner of his lips hungrily, before he hauled off and slammed his fist into the frat boy’s face, knocking him down. He growled in pleasure, tossing his head back and laughing. No fucking pain; hell yes. "My chip's gone now, boy. An' believe me, I have no qualms against twisting your thick, beefcake neck around. So if you ever presume to play the poncy hero, and have the balls to tell me what to do, 'll take great pleasure in makin' sure you don' ever feel quite up to snuff with tryin' it again. Got me?" Spike chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't imagine yourself as her hero, Cardboard. She don't need one. You're lookin' at the hero of the soddin' tale right there. She can handle herself just fine." Riley struggled to get up, glaring hatefully at the unconventional master vampire. He attempted to lunge at him, but his heart suddenly pulsed, and he let out a loud gasp, grabbing at his chest and giving a loud groan of pain. "Spikey, come on! Hurry up!" Harmony yelled. She had a clean cut going straight down her arm, and was waiting at the door, clutching slightly at the wound, eyes wide. Spike grunted and smirked, walking calmly over to the doctor, who’d remained on the ground during Spike’s entire interaction with the Slayer, wide-eyed and shocked at the display. Spike’s face reverted back to human form, and he stared at Overheiser with his amazingly human blue eyes. He motioned to the two humans. "Help ‘em," he ordered. Overheiser nodded quickly and scrambled over to them, knowing better than to piss off such a powerful - and already pissed off - Master vampire. Spike smirked and swaggered up the steps. He wasn’t gonna kill the Slayer. Not now. Maybe not ever, but most definitely not now. And having Soldier Boy around would just make it even more fun. Stealing his girl, right in front of him; seducing her away and making him watch every second of it... Spike grinned. He looked back, staring at Buffy lustfully, hungrily. As it was... the minute he got home... He was gonna pound Harmony into the ground. Spike’s head lolled slightly to the side. He snorted softly in his sleep. A loud bang erupted from entrance to the crypt, and he shot straight up, his eyes snapping open. He tested the air until he recognized the scent of his visitor, then sighed and stood up when Buffy stormed in. He shot her a slight smirk. "Should’ve known it’s you. Been nearly six hours." Buffy glared at him. "Well, it would’ve been less if I wasn’t busy cleaning up your mess." Spike gave her a gaze that suggested indignation and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, rocking back on the heels of his feet. "My mess? I just borrowed the doc, an’ he’s lucky I didn’t eat him. The mess is yours, Slayer. Yours and the boy’s." It really figured. The Slayer, just barging into his home, trying to put everything on him, as usual. She just didn’t know when to quit. He eyed her quietly, noticing his mark on her otherwise flawless skin. A shock of excitement surged through his body and a slow grin spread across his face. "So, how’d you like what happened earlier, luv? You enjoy it as much as I thought you did?" The look on Buffy’s face went from angry to mortified, then back to anger within a second. "I mean, I’m a vampire. I could smell it, even if you deny it, baby. Is that what this little visit is for, then? You’ve come to get more from the Big Bad?" He grinned wickedly. "Or did you just wanna see how big an’ bad I really am?" Buffy’s face flushed and she shrank away for a second, then came back with more confidence. "I’m done," she muttered, shaking her head. She took a stake from her back pocket and advanced on him. Spike raised an eyebrow in surprise. Whoa. He sure hadn’t expected THAT (note the sarcasm.) Especially not after how she’d responded to him earlier. An image of a very nude Slayer suddenly flashed before his eyes and he tried to keep a groan from escaping. Her moans and whimpers from earlier infiltrated his brain and he mentally slapped himself to pay attention to what was happening now. Buffy didn’t even notice his inner conflict. Her gaze never wavered. "Spike, you’re a killer. And I shoulda done this years ago." Spike stared at her and sighed. She wasn’t gonna even play around with him. She just wanted to kill him. The thought irritated him more than usual, and suddenly he was sick of the Slayer. All previous images of her, bucking underneath him and crying out in the throes of passion from an orgasm he’d brought upon her vanished and he was disgusted. What the hell was wrong with him? Lusting after the Slayer? Was he looking for a death wish? Fine. If she wanted to kill him, fine. He wasn’t gonna fight it. At least, if he was dead for good, she wouldn’t drive him so crazy anymore. He’d be free of her. He gazed at her and finally shrugged, looking her in the eye. "You know what? Do it. Bloody just do it." Buffy looked bewildered. "What?" Spike was giving in? That was... impossible. He was just going to sit back and let her kill him, without a fight? And he COULD fight her now. But why wouldn’t he? Spike stared at her meaningfully. "End... my... torment. Seeing you, everyday, everywhere I go, every time I turn around." Spike paused slightly, realizing just how true his words were. Everywhere he went, the Slayer haunted him, her cheeky little smile penetrating his mind. He’d once even hallucinated, and thought he’d seen her, standing at the side of his sarcophagus one morning, her hand resting on his chest, with no stake. He continued. "Take me... out of a world... that has you in it!" He grasped his shirt and jerked it off, baring a pale but strong, smooth, compactly muscled torso. He tossed the shirt behind him and presented himself to her. He knew he was being overly dramatic, but he didn’t care. Just as long as it ended in his death. "Just kill me!" Buffy blinked once or twice, thrown a little off track by the sight of his chest, then stared into his eyes. Whoa. He... couldn’t really mean it... could he? The look on his face was completely serious. Oh, fuck, he does mean it. She bit her lip, and debated with herself for a second before taking a chance. Then she raised her stake and lunged at him. She saw him tense and wince, waiting for the final blow from her that would end him. He didn’t even close his eyes. Fortunately for him, Buffy realized what she was doing, and froze before she could finish the task. I can’t. I can’t kill him. I can’t do this. Why can’t I do this? she thought, blinking furiously to keep from crying. What? Crying? Now she was preparing to cry over Spike? Jesus Christ. Spike caught her eyes and held her gaze. She looked completely lost and confused, not knowing what to do with herself. And suddenly, the feelings for her that he’d fought against earlier came flooding back. Desire welled up inside of him and he drew in a sharp breath. Whatever this was, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted her. He had to have this girl, had to hold her, touch her, taste her... He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to him, not even thinking as he pressed his lips to hers feverishly. Buffy whimpered and clutched his forearms, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Spike groaned softly, drawing the girl flush against him, trying frantically to clutch at every part of her at once, refusing to let her go. Well, until Buffy jerked away with her hand over her mouth, wide-eyed and horrified. Trembling slightly, she stared at Spike, and he licked his lips, staring back at her. They were both panting heavily despite Spike’s lack of need for air. His eyes flickered to her hands. The stake was gone. But... Another could appear at any second. He watched her apprehensively, expecting her to lunge at him and rip his head off, or possibly something worse. So when Buffy dropped her hand and walked back to him, he was understandably nervous. Nervousness disappeared the second Buffy put her hands on the back of his head, pulling him toward her and assaulting him with another lustful, passionate kiss. Spike wrapped his arms around her tightly, clutching her with greedy fingers. His lips trailed away from hers, brushing over her cheek and moving down to her neck. When his icy lips pressed against her skin, Buffy let out a soft moan and arched into him. "Oh, god... Spike... I want you," she panted, her eyes closed and her fingers grasping at his hair and his body convulsively. Spike buried his face in her neck, kissing, licking, and nuzzling his mark. Not biting. Just cuddling. "Buffy, I love you," he murmured softly. Buffy pulled back, and stared up at him, eyes lighting up and staring at him in disbelief. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, smiling affectionately when she smiled and leaned into it. His heart welled up. "God, I love you so much," he finished with a whisper. Spike’s eyes popped open and he bolted straight up in bed with a gasp. His gaze shot to the female form next to him, and his upper lip curled in dismay when he realized it was Harmony. He looked around wildly, thinking someone was playing a major practical joke on him, just waiting to leap out at him and club him over the head or something. He looked down at his lap and raised his eyebrows when he noticed the tent in the blanket his hard-on had apparently pitched in his sleep. He looked around again, frowning as he recalled his dream... the words he’d said... the feelings he’d had. He’d told Buffy he loved her. "Oh, fuck," he sighed, putting his face in his hands and groaning. Then he looked up at the ceiling and scowled. "You’ve got to be kidding me." The Powers just had to kick a bad ass when he was down, didn’t they? Several blocks over, Buffy rolled out of Riley’s grasp and sighed, staring blankly at the wall. She shivered slightly as the cool air from her window blew over her naked body through the sheets. When they’d gotten back to her house after Riley’s mini-surgery, she’d practically torn him apart to rid her body of the lustful feelings she was having. Riley had pretty much been horrified at her actions, stunned and a little fearful that his "sweet, innocent" Buffy was capable of some of the things she’d displayed that night. He was out like a light after the first round. Stupid lightweight. The fact that it had been Spike that had given her these feelings by rubbing and grinding into her was more than a little freaky. But God help her, it felt good. Her hand unwittingly reached up and caressed her newest scar. The wound was still tender, having only been opened six hours earlier (and when she’d taken a look at them in the mirror after her shower, she’d noted with a hint of amusement that Spike had placed his mark directly over his grandsire’s). Thanks to her accelerated healing, they were now nothing more than two small pink bumps. But for some reason, they were affecting her a bit more than the others had. The Master – Spike’s great, great grandsire – had bitten her to escape from his lair and to wreak havoc on the surface. That had caused her nothing but pain and her (really, really short) death. The Master's grand Childe (Angel) had marked her in his own vicious way, nearly draining her to cure the poison in his body. THAT had been a major bitch. It had still hurt, long after it had healed, not just physically, but emotionally as well, for obvious reasons. Dracula had been mercifully kind when he'd bitten her. He'd smelled Angel's scent over the mark, and he'd ignored it – apparently, he and Angelus had never been on very good terms. Dracula was strange, but he hadn't been as psychotic as the darker Irish vampire. Dracula had bitten her because she'd intrigued him. Maybe he'd sensed something familiar about her or something. He'd wanted to show her the extent of her powers. So he'd held her under thrall. But Spike's mark... ... was driving her absolutely up the wall, for one thing. They kept tingling and dancing and making her body shiver. These marks, for some reason, held more power over her than even Dracula's thrall had. It was... Weird. And what was with him earlier? He'd bitten her and had been a little violent about it – he must've sensed Angel's presence in the scar. He hadn't minded the elder vampire until Angelus came into play and had begun sleeping with Drusilla. But after the initial puncture had been made, he'd been a little tender about it, sucking as gently as possible. And GOD, the feel of his body against hers... Was so beyond wrong it wasn't even funny! Her eyes widened in alarm and she mentally smacked herself. Bad Buffy! There will be NO lusty thoughts of Sp – of anyone! No one! No one at all! she chided herself. Didn't matter that he'd immediately zeroed in on her weak spot. Didn't matter that everything he'd done had completely turned her on. Didn't matter that he'd made her feel things that nobody else could or had. Didn't matter that he'd been getting off on it, too, grinding that big (massive, humongous, gigantic) erection against the apex of her legs in just the right - STOP that! she yelped mentally, positively terrified by the direction her thoughts were taking. Holy Christ. This was bad. Very, very... bad. Bad. Big bad. Spike was the Big Bad. A big bad with a knack for finding her pleasure spots. Bad, bad, very bad Spike. Naughty Spike. Dirty, lewd, naughty Spike – oh. GAH! What the hell was she thinking?! She cuddled up to her mattress, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her head, as if that would make the very wicked Buffy thoughts go away magically. Scrunching away from Riley, she made the extremely difficult first steps to falling asleep. Trying to ignore the sudden image of a pair of penetrating azure eyes and a cocky smirk. Trying to feel revolted at the sudden urge to cover those smug lips with her own. Trying to ignore HIM. Riley grunted softly in his sleep and fidgeted slightly, the sheet wrapping around his foot. That somewhat provided a distraction from the extremely annoying presence hovering around her, and she sighed, refusing to look at him. The stubborn dumbass would've been dead by now if it hadn't been for her. Buffy sighed and shifted away when his arm made an attempt to wrap around her. She was so beyond irritated with him. He'd actually thought she was so petty as to believe that the only reason she wanted to date him was because of his borrowed vampiric strength. He was insecure enough to think that she'd dump him if he didn't measure up to Angel's, or even Spike's standards, for Christ's sake! Suddenly, everything was competition with him. If he couldn't keep up with, or exceed her, he would get kicked to the curb. If she didn't love him so damn much, he'd be on an unscheduled ass-kicking back to Iowa! She sighed. And if he wasn't just getting over the surgery, she'd be seriously considering giving them a time out until he got some sense back into his head. But she couldn't do that now. Because he needed her. As... pressuring as that was. And suddenly, out of nowhere, her thoughts drifted right back to Spike. And she felt her stomach do flip-flops. THAT was disturbing. Since when did her stomach do flip-flops because of Spike? Had to be the... Her eyes widened. The bite marks. She nearly fell off the bed with her realization. Spike had bitten her. He'd had her. But she wasn't dead. Why wasn't she dead? He could've EASILY killed her! She'd been wide open (she blushed), vulnerable, and he was back to his Big Bad self again without the chip. He could've easily drained her or ripped her throat out, and bagged his third Slayer. But despite all his fronting and bravado about killing her the second he wasn't under government technological supervision... she was still alive. He drank from her, and she was still alive. She touched the mark again and shivered. She had an odd feeling about this... Spike yawned and stumbled around the crypt. He was alone; he'd sent Harmony through the tunnels to terrorize the people at the butcher shop, much to her confusion ("You're CHIP–LESS now, why do you still want that icky bagged blood?") He'd shrugged. He didn't know. It was probably just instinct, or... routine. Yeah. That. Anyway, he'd suddenly become threatening when she'd lingered too long, and cursed and bitched at her if she didn't get the hell out of the crypt right then. She'd run off in a fright. As a vampire, she knew better now than to argue with her elder. The truth was, he desperately needed time alone to think. With Harmony around, buzzing about like a goddamn gnat, it was easier said than done. Thoughts of Bu – er, the Slayer had been plaguing him all of last night, and all of this morning. Ever since the little incident at the office, and the dream he'd had, Buffy had been poking in and out of his head routinely every two minutes or so. He was THIS CLOSE to ripping his head off. Why the HELL was she affecting him this much? He couldn't love her. It was impossible, bad ass vampires did NOT fall in love with the Slayer! If anyone found out, he could be killed! Okay. What the hell did I do for her to have this much affect on me? Lessee... Snarked off at her, fought her... practically fucked her on the ground... no, that was fun. Er... bit her... claimed her... got hit in the head with a chair by Cardboard... ran off back home. Wait a second. One of those didn't seem right. Claimed her. Spike's eyes widened. "Oh bloody fuck. I claimed the Slayer!" Then he paused. "I claimed the Slayer." Something about that sounded REALLY good. He grinned. "I claimed the Slayer -- an' she let me." Let was a strong word. She... didn't actively participate in stopping him. There. That was better. "Bloody hell." Still. This was priceless! He hadn't meant to do it. It had all been an unconscious effort. The word 'mine' had simply slipped out while he'd been drinking her, and that definitely explained the damn tingling he got. She wasn't fully his, though. In order for his claim to be legit, she'd have to admit it, then exact her own claim on him. He'd never claimed a human before. The sensations were weird. And now to figure out that the human he'd claimed was also the Slayer he ... gulp... loved... "Bloody marvelous," he breathed (figuratively, of course). Seducing her away from Finn, though, was going to be easier than he'd thought. And a hell of a lot more fun, too. TBC.

Chapter #2 - obliterated

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part II... .:obliteration:. "You let him what?!" Buffy scowled at her big-mouthed boyfriend before turning to look at her bewildered friends, sister, and Watcher. She sighed as she focused onGiles. "I didn't let him do anything. He just... bit me, and I... didn't stop him. That's all. Honestly, he didn't hurt me; in fact, he was more gentle with it than Angel was when he bitme." Riley looked sharply at Buffy. "Angel bit you?" The young blonde mentally groaned. Shit; she'd forgotten to mention that part of her Angel history with him. And she could feel the jealousy rolling off of him in waves... no, not waves. The jealousy was producing a monsoon effect with Riley. Waving it off, she shook herhead. "Long story. One that I do not feel like going into right now," she added, narrowing her eyes at Riley when he opened his mouth to protest. Honest to God, he HAD to get the whole jealousy thing under control! Riley scowled and backed down. The entire group had quieted and were now staring at each other with worried looks. Finally, Dawn, who had had enough of the silence, sidled up to her older sister, her eyes lit up withcuriosity. "Did it hurt any?" Buffy turned a sharp eye to the fourteen-year-old. God, what was it with her sister's fascination with vamp -- oh, never mind. She shook her head, andyawned. "No, not really. But I guess I should be used to it by now. Vamps seem to like using my neck as a chew toy." She pointedly ignored the frown Giles gave her, and the withering Look Riley senther. Dawn grinned. The teen not only had a fascination with vampires, but with a particular vampire in question. When Angel had lost his soul, he and Drusilla had kidnapped her and stuck her in the same room with Spike, who had been confined to his wheelchair. He'd tried to posture with her, but had really kept Dawn more entertained than anything, and he'd eventually helped her escape from right under Angelus' big monobrow. Dawn had been enamored with the bleach blonde ever since, even after he had taken Dru and left. Buffy would know - her sister had continuously asked about him afterwards, hoping that the Slayer had happened to spot him somewhere around Sunnydale before he had come back to the townpermanently. Moving on. Buffy was beyond irritated with a certain boyfriend of hers. Before they'd left for the Scooby meeting, she had made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing of her latest vamp attack to be mentioned to her friends. Riley had walked into Giles' home right behind her and promptly blabbed all. From there, Willow, Xander, and Giles had delivered their reaction (dropped mouth, wide eyes) in perfect unison. Which would've been funny, if she hadn't been so damnpissed. Willow looked over at Tara, confusion etched all over her face, then back at Buffy. Walking toward her best friend of five years, she sat down next to her. Buffy's lack of disgust and spaz-filled reaction at something of this magnitude, especially since it had to do with Spike, was unnervingher. "Buffy, are you sure you're all right? I mean... you're acting awfully calm about this whole thing," she said, chewing on her lowerlip. Xander picked up where his friend left off. "Yeah, Buff. Where's you with the wiggage? Are you still in shock? Do I need to make some coffee foryou?" Buffy rolled her eyes at Xander, quirking her lips, then shook her head and sighed." No. Guys, I'm fine, I swear it! Like I said, I'm used to this now. Just be glad that Spike didn't do what he always said he'd doif he got the chip out." When everyone looked confused, Buffy sighed in irritation and brought her hands in front of her to help illustrate her words, making stabbing motions at herchest. "He-llooo.... Kill me?" Willow looked horribly guilty. Xander looked sheepish. Tara was quiet, a hint of sympathy touching the surface of herfeatures. Anya, meanwhile, was blatantly ignoring everything. She didn't really care about it. In fact, she'd stopped listening as soon as Buffy's giant Army man had made the "big" announcement. So what if Spike had bitten Buffy? The only reason the Slayer was still alive anyway was because Spike had a thing for her. And just because she never kept her thoughts to herself, didn't mean she didn't know how to. She knew full well how the slightly bigoted crew she belonged to would react to the idea of another vampire with their not-very-pure and pristineSlayer. Dawn, on the other hand, was as focused on the conversation now as she was in her art class, or at the gallery with her mother. Her eyes were wide, and she was grinning excitedly. Of course, she hadn't been with her sister the other night - Mom had made doubly sure of that - so Dawn wasn't entirely sure what went down, but if Buffy wasn't making a big deal about it - Buffy, who was forever going on about her disgust of the undead - then the younger Summers girl was fairly sure that it wasn't as big a deal as Riley was trying to make it out tobe. Giles was looking incredibly tired. He adored Buffy, he really did - but how had he managed to get stuck with the one Slayer in the world who could have such a fascination with theundead? Riley, of course, was pissed. His face was bright red, and the face that was normally so open and kind looked almost hostile as he stared at Buffy. He stompedforward. "Buffy, he's out free again. He's an animal! He can kill, and he will kill, you know it! You have to get rid ofhim!" Buffy folded her arms and sent him a scowl. "Are you actually telling me what to do? I don't listen to Giles half the time, what makes you think I'll listen to you? Spike has been harmless up until now. If he'd wanted to kill me, he would've. Instead, all he did was take a bite and drink - not drain, drink. And I say when Spike goes or not. If or when he makes a move, I will deal with him. Until then, if you can manage not to go barging into something that isn't any of your business in the first place, leave it be. This is between me and Spike - he's my responsibility. All demons and vampires are. Not your's - that's why I'm called the Slayer. Deal with it, Riley. If you go leaping into things way out of your league, you know you're gonna get yourselfkilled." Riley stared at his girlfriend in shock. Buffy glared at him for a minute longer before shaking her head. "I don't have time for this crap. Giles, call me if anything turns up." Turning, she walked out the door without lookingback. Riley looked toward Giles, trying to find a vote of support from the Watcher. Giles merely shook his head and replied, "Buffy has done everything her own way since the moment she was Called. She has refused to listen to Angel, to her friends, to me, and she even quit the Council." He took off his glasses and narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Therefore I'd suggest that if you want her to listen to you, don't force her. She will only push you away even more. And I doubt you'd wantthat." Riley merely nodded. As day passed EVER so slowly into night, Buffy had successfully managed to avoid every single person that was just looking to get on her bad side. She could sense that Riley had been trying to find her during patrol, and she hoped to God that he knew well enough that they were having what was called a fight, and would not be welcome in her home tonight. Still, just in case he didn't figure it out, maybe she should send Spike to "bump" into him and pickpocket the key off ofhim... No. NO! NO thoughts of Spike! Spike-thoughts were bad and, and evil, and wrong. She was going insane. As it was, Dawn had come up to see her earlier, and had found Buffy tearing apart her bed, talking to the sheets, and yelling at poor Mr. Gordo. She'd immediately made a U-turn and ran back downstairs, where she'd hidden for the rest of the evening until Willow and Tara had picked her up for amovie. Great. She was alienating her sister. "Throw me a couple of more curve balls, why don't you?" she yelled at the ceiling. Joyce Summers was incredibly lucky that she wasn't home tonight. Her eldest was a little more off her block than usual. They were lucky that there were only two vampires that had a free invite into their house. It was good then, that Angel had moved to Los Angeles. And Spike was harmless... well, not too harmless. Even without the chip to begin with, hehadn't been that bad. It would be a wise thing to never, ever, ever mention that little tidbit to him.Ever. Cursing the day she was Chosen, Buffy shed her clothes and cuddled up into her bed. Throwing a fit wasn't gonna do anything - there was nobody around to listen. So sleeping was pretty much her only alternative right now. She sighed and turned off herlamp. "Goodnight," she called out softly, to whoever might hear. She woke up to the sound of metal clinking lightly. Still groggy, she lifted her arm to rub the sleep out of her eyes, only to find that she couldn't move it. She tilted her head up and saw that it had been locked securely to her bedpost with handcuffs. She heard another clink and turned her head to the other side, eyes widening when she noticed the same of her otherarm. Okay. She was not gonna freak. She was NOT gonna freak. She was NOT gonna -- "What the fuck!" she shrieked. -- freak. She heard a low chuckle and turned her head frantically to search for the source. And that's when she saw the darkened figure in the corner of the room. Her eyes widened and she swallowedhard. "Uh... Riley?" she asked hopefully. She knew it was a long shot, since the idea of handcuffs was the equivalent of kissing a man to her narrow-minded boyfriend, but if it was Riley, she was gonna kick his ass the second she broke out of these goddamnthings. Besides... she'd rather it be her stupid boyfriend than the other man that she knew would do something likethis... The figure moved closer to the side of her bed, and the voice spoke again. "Now that is an insult," the man's voice said, the deep timber of the North London accent making itselfknown. Wait. North London? He was British? Mystery Stalker Guy was British? "Spike?" she asked meekly. The figure obliged to her question, moving forward and giving her the full glimpse at his white blonde curls, cerulean blue eyes and cocky, smug smirk plastered all over his pale face. His tongue curled against histeeth. "Hello, cutie," he murmured. Buffy swallowed again and threw back her head to scream. Maybe if her mom was back, or Dawn woke up-- Her thoughts were cut off the second Spike put his hand over her mouth. He 'tsk'ed and shook hishead. "Nah-ah, luv. Not gonna happen. You should know your sis better'n that, anyhow. She's a heavier sleeper than you are." He cupped her chin and tilted her head up to look in her eyes."Ain't she?" Buffy cursed inside her head. Fuck; she'd forgotten that fact. Buffy had once figured out that Dawn would wake up from being poked just once, but someone could scream bloody murder, California could fall into the Pacific, it could be the End of Days, and Dawn would sleep like a log through it all. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded. Spike smiled and removed his hand. Buffy shook her head slightly, then peered athim. "Why are you here? What are you doing?" Spike raised his eyebrows. "Well, luv. I quite liked what happened the last time we met. Been thinkin' about it a lot lately. Decided I needed to come visit; see if I could..." As he trailed off, his eyes lowering to her prone form, Buffy watched as his hand traced tiny patterns across her body. She gulpedaudibly. "You sick bastard... You don't want to kill me, so you'll rape me instead? Just wait until I get out of these cuffs, you'll never be able to use that dick again!" She punctuated her sentence by kicking at him and rattling the cuffs. Spike chuckled and moved onto the bed next to her, running one cold finger over her midriff and up her shirt. The effect it had on her burning skin immediately produced a gasp and she settled down, staring at him with wide eyes. He tilted his head as his hand slid out of her shirt, then moved up to cup herbreast. "I never said it was for my own pleasure... well, maybe a little for my own. Besides," he leaned down and gently licked her earlobe. "How do you know that you might not like this just a little more than I would?" She turned her head and stared at him, biting her lowerlip. "What are you going to do?" she asked in a whisper. Spike simply responded by directing his eyes to her abdomen. She followed his gaze, and Spike reached out the hand that was on her breast, placing it gently on her pelvis. Her eyes widened and she kicked outagain. "Spike, don't you dare. You know better than I do that these cuffs are not going to hold me for long! I will get out ofthem!" Spike laughed softly, slipping his fingers under her cotton pajama shorts and tugging on the front of her panties. "So get out of themalready." Buffy attempted to do just that, but at her first tug, Spike swooped down and held his index finger against her pussy lips. Buffy's eyes bugged out and she let out a gasp. Spike smiled with pride, then leaned down to kiss her cheek, nuzzling his forehead against hers. His finger continued forward, gliding between her lips and sliding down slowly. The feeling of his cold finger made shivers break out all across her body, and she turned her head to his, staring in wonder. Spike reached out his free arm and placed it behind her, tugging her close. His lips kissed her forehead as his fingers found her clit and gently began to circle it, never touching, always teasing, until Buffy began thrusting her hips up. Relenting, he gently pressed against the swollen wet nub, earning a relieved moan for hisattention. His head lowered and he lightly captured her vein between his lips, sucking softly. His hips began to move on their own as he ground his growing bulge against her thigh. His teeth gently bit down over his mark and Buffy let out another low moan, bucking herhips. Buffy felt like she was going to black out from the intensity of it all. She didn't think it was possible, but Spike was arousing her so far beyond arousal that it was hard to remember what part of her actually wanted this, and what part wanted to stop. Right now, it seemed like both the Buffy and the Slayer part were doing their best to make sure this didn't end. His fingers were doing unimaginable things to her, things that Riley had never even considered doing. She turned and buried her face in his neck to muffle a cry as he slipped three fingers inside of her tight, hot tunnel, stretching her. The feel of his hardened cock against her, the ministrations of his hand, the intensity and gentleness... oh... the way he was touching her was driving her mad. Her hips bucked up against his hand and she felt Spike pull away slightly. Her eyes opened and she found him staring down at her, a trademark grin and a devilish gleam in his eyes not giving away any of hisintentions. "Harder," she whispered, the only word she could force out of her mouth. Spike's eyebrows rose, and he obliged, pumping his hand to the limit inside of her. Buffy's breathing was erratic, and her entire sense of awareness was about to be obliterated; she was just seconds away from what was bound to be a massiveorgasm. Grinding himself roughly against her, Spike tilted his head and ran his tongue over her neck. He didn't stop there, though, and Buffy's entire body arched as Spike's tongue slid down to the valley between her breasts. He tugged her tank top away with his teeth, then sucked and nibbled lightly at the soft skin. Buffy was near tears from the passion mounting inside of her. Pinpricks of icy heat covered her skin, making her shiver all at once. Her green eyes opened and she stared at the ceiling blankly. She was actually seeing stars. Bright, bright stars, burning, white, blue, red, green, exploding, pulsing, shattering, breaking, falling,falling... Spike pulled his hand away after Buffy let out a strained, helpless shriek of orgasmic strength. He gazed at her heaving, glistening body, licking his lips. Oh, god, it would just be so sweet and so easy right now to just takeher... But he couldn't. He had to do this slowly, draw it out. Make her admit a few things, first. Make her want him back. Seduce her from that stupid prick of a boyfriend, before they actually consummated anything. Then, finally, he had to get her to reciprocate his claim on her. They would belong to each other, and nobody would be able to do anything about it. Then perhaps, he might be able to get her to feel something toward him, besides her usual disgust and hate. The thought of the Slayer falling in love with him was a little more than too good to be true, and pretty damn perverted if you asked anyone else, but damn it, he was gonna keep with it. He didn't care how hopeless it got. He had tasted hernow. He waited until she'd refocused and was staring at him again with heavy-lidded, amazed eyes, before his tongue snaked out and licked the result of her release off of his long, pale digits slowly. Buffy, mesmerized, licked her own lips as she watched his tongue. Then, as she realized what had just happened, the controlling part of her brain came back and screamed at her. She let out a soft wail of self-loathing and disgust, rattling thehandcuffs. "Let me out of these, you pervert! How dare you? How dare you even THINK to touch me like that? Take the stupid cuffs off, then get out! I swear to God, the next time you come near me, I will kill you!" She was sobbing now. Great. Cheers, mate. There's a point for you. You made the girl cry, you git, his brain reprimanded, and suddenly he felt guilty. He wanted to soothe her, and reassure her, and... He swallowedhard. "Buffy, luv, listen to me," he murmured softly. She shook her head furiously, refusing to stop crying. "Yes, pet. Look at me, listen to me, just for asecond." "No!" she cried out. "How could you do this to me? If you weren't sick before, I don't know what to call you now, Spike! You violated me, you fucking raped me! What, are you gonna tell me that it's not like that, then feed me some bull about you wanting - " The next sound Buffy made was a muffled "mmph!" as Spike shoved his lips passionately tohers. Gently cupping her face in both hands, his let his kiss tell her what he wanted to say. Buffy unconsciously responded to his mouth eagerly, letting out a soft moan of pleasure. Spike lightly slipped his tongue between her lips, just for a second, and smiled softly when she responded, sliding her own tongue into his mouth. He nibbled at her lips softly for a minute more before pulling away slowly and resting his forehead against hers. She gasped softly, trying to catch her breath, before tilting her head up to look in his eyes. Her nose touched his, and she gently pressed her forehead tohis. "Spike," she whispered softly. He lifted a hand to touch her cheek. "Shhh... Hush now, kitten." He slipped the key to the manacles out of his pocket and gently unlocked her arms. Lifting her wrists, he kissed each one, rubbing them soothingly, before looking up at the Slayer again. "You need to sleep now. Get your strength up, pet. You need to be strong to protect kid sis an' all." He leaned forward and kissed her lips, then her forehead before lightly pushing her down in the bed and covering her up. "G'night, sweet," he murmured, before walking to the window, preparing to jumpout. "Spike," she called out. He turned at the sound of her voice and tilted his head questioningly. She bit her lower lip. "I'msorry." He nodded his head and tossed her a smile. "Nothin' you said that I didn't deserve, pet. 'S alright," he replied good-naturedly. Hey, why should he lie? Technically, in a way, he had taken advantage of her. But hell, if she was going to apologize to him - the Slayer apologizing to William the Bloody - then he'd accept it. "Thanks,pet." Buffy nodded, still watching his every move. "Be careful." He smiled again. "Always, luv." With that, he climbed out the window and jumped down to theground. As soon as he got down to the ground, he put his face in his hands. Fuck. He hadn't meant to get so wishy-washy and goody-goody with her. Christ, he was supposed to be a bad ass, meant to be a bad ass, and he was comforting the Slayer because he'd made her cry. He grumbled and cursed at himself as he walked off to thecrypt. "I'm getting soft in my old age," he muttered. Buffy stayed awake for at least twenty minutes after Spike left. Holy shit, what a kiss. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed her before. The spell last year that Willow had bollixed up had left them crawling all over each other, always kissing, and if not kissing, then at least touching in some way or another. He was an amazing kisser, and until tonight, she'd forgotten just how good hewas. The difference between those kisses, and tonight's, though... Well, obviously, last year had been a spell. Maybe there had been some form of affection under there, but for the most part, they were acting out the roles of a pre-newly-wed couple. None of their kisses had meant anything, atall. Tonight's kiss had shot her straight into the stratosphere. There'd been something about it, something real, and emotional, and private. Like he'd wanted to tell her something, but hadn't actually had the nerve to say it. Well, damn, he sure picked a good way to tell me whatever it was. She sighed and fell back. She had to stop thinking of Spike. She had a boyfriend, one with whom she was pissed at for the moment. But nevertheless, she had one, and she couldn't just go off and let Spike do whatever he pleased to her. Even if it was for her. Even if it did make her feel like she was the only person in the world who was allowed to enjoy that sort ofthing. Argh. She rolled over and determinedly closed her eyes. Stop thinking. Sleep now. Thinking will resume tomorrow. Sorta. Pfft. Right. THAT was gonna be easy. TBC.

Chapter #3 - ponciness is an extension of poofiness

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part III... .:ponciness is an extension of poofiness:. When Buffy woke up the following morning, she felt sated, relaxed and... completely astonished. She recalled what had happened last night with Spike pretty clearly (and when she did – recall it, that is – she wound up with a burning blush on her cheeks and a delicate throb between her legs for her trouble.) She couldn’t believe she’d allowed him to get away with... doing that to her. Not that it was a bad thing. Far from it. On the contrary -- it felt amazing. She couldn’t fathom some of the things his fingers had done to her, the extra areas he’d found, and the motions his fingers had introduced. Spike had lit an ice fire inside of her, making her insides melt, freeze, clutch, and burn all at once. Her eyes flashed and her head fell back as she remembered the feeling of her orgasm. Christ; she could’ve sworn there had been fireworks going off. Sigh. This was not good. Thinking of Spike was gonna drive her insane. And in her mind, Crazy Buffy somehow just didn’t seem as effective as Sane Slayer Buffy was. Besides. She had to focus on what she was gonna do about her stupid, self-righteous, overbearing, bossy, controlling, over-protective, bordering right on the freaking edge of becoming an ex, boyfriend. Suddenly, the phone's shrill ring startled Buffy out of her slightly homicidal thoughts. Speak of the devil. She sighed heavily and wearily picked up the phone. "Hello?" she asked. A sharp intake of breath was heard on the other line. "Buffy?" She sighed. Well, duh; who else would have the misfortune of having to wake up at this hour? "Hi, Riley," she replied, making sure to keep a cool, curt tone in her voice. "Buffy. We need to talk." Buffy paused for a minute to roll her eyes. He probably thought he was being the "Big Man" of the relationship. Ugh.. "Yeah, we do." Riley gave a soft, relieved breath, and Buffy almost laughed. He was scared shitless of her! "Yeah. So, I’ll come over tonight, uh, around nine. We’ll, uh... talk before you go on patrol. If we can, um, get something sorted out, then I’ll go with you. Good?" "Sure, good, yeah. See you tonight, then, Riley." "Okay. I love you." Buffy froze. She didn't want to say the "L" word back because there was no way in hell that she was feeling any kind of "L"-wordiness toward Riley right now... But she wanted to get off of the phone with him so she wouldn't have to talk to him anymore. Damn it! Buffy Auto-Response set for: Lie your freaking ass off! "I love you, too. And I really hope we can work something out, sweetie. I’ll be waiting for you. Bye," she said in a sickly sweet innocent voice – the one Riley enjoyed listening to over (and over, and over, and over again) in bed. "B—" click! Buffy growled as she slammed down the phone and got up to get dressed. Right now, she didn’t love Riley. She hated Riley with a white hot passion and was ready to cut off his dick. And she wasn’t anywhere near hopeful for a reconciliation. She didn’t get a chance to be angry too often anymore, and she wanted to relish it. And a good way to release anger was either by pounding on Giles, or by hearing what Riley had to say, then pounding on Riley. For "training." Damn. Well, THAT was a fantastic way to start the day. Spike smirked as he walked around the upper level of the crypt, barefoot. He’d brought off the Slayer. And he knew that she'd had no choice but to think of him - though she already had been - when she came. Maybe then things would be a little more even between them - he couldn't seem to stop thinking of her, and as his chosen mate, an aspect of the claim, she couldn't help but think about him. Even though she hadn’t acknowledged the claim, he’d had her blood. Without her even knowing it, she was bonded to him. He could sense her every feeling, and hear her every thought, even though she couldn’t sense his feelings, or hear his thoughts. Yet. That grin had been stuck on his face ever since he’d gotten back to the crypt. After his initial irritation at his poofish attitude toward Buffy last night, he had eventually been overtaken by pride at what he'd done to her, for her. He’d made her scream, cum, and moan – things he'd never dreamed would ever happen. Not with her. And that muscle-bound moron of a boyfriend of hers had no fucking clue. Yet, he thought, giving a soft chuckle. He rubbed his hands together with a superior smirk on his face. God... he was SO gonna be there when the shit hit the fan. The dickhead had it coming, after all. Spike had been put through hell when he’d first discovered the chip, and it was ALL Army Fuck’s fault. Him and the bloody Initiative. He blinked and shook the thoughts from his mind, sighing. He needed to contemplate his next move in this new plan to seduce the Slayer.. He was still awed that he had kissed her, and that it had been so good. Her fire and her passion did not, apparently, only reside in her love of combat. She was the Slayer, after all, and no matter how much she denied it, fighting and sex were as closely tied within her being as tightly as they were with Spike. And yet... she seemed to crave softness, tenderness... That was why, for so long, she'd harped on about Captain America's virtues. She wanted a taste of normal, and she'd found it in the corn-fed Iowa boy. Judging by the way her relationship with Finn had been progressing as of late, it appeared that "normal" was getting boring. Maybe if he mixed it up a little, then? Gave her tenderness, and flowers, and all that poofy human shite one night, laid her back on a bed of roses and roused her passion so slowly that she would still feel it hours, days, weeks later. Then the next night, take her so violently, in the midst of a fight, teeth bared, nails scraping, pounding into her so roughly that, alternately, she wouldn't be able to walk for hours, days, or weeks later. Spike grinned. He's found the ideal plan. He grunted as his mind drifted to the previous night, and he laid back, growling softly. She’d been so tight. Of course, she had only been with three people (he was very pointedly blocking any of these thoughts out), but still, her entrance had been nearly virginal. Perhaps he could test the limits of her limberness... His thoughts took a different turn as he imagined the way the rest of it would go. He would draw her in, make her feel comfortable and safe around him, draw out her need for him and assure her that it was okay. She’d soon want him enough that she’d go crazy if she weren’t touching him in some way. He’d smile as he watched Buffy kick the prick out of the picture. Then he'd find the bastard and kill him. Slowly. Then, finally, once Buffy was fully reassured about him, finally comfortable, and happy, and with him... possibly in the throes of passion... he’d finally kill her. Good plan. All of it, except for the bit about killing her. Because at this point, he was really just fooling himself. The Scooby crew had most likely been told of Spike's little visit to the land of Slayer’s Blood Euphoria. If Buffy hadn’t been completely, fully affected by his claim... and hadn’t jumped in to defend him, or at least calm them down... God, then Giles himself was going to plow into his crypt any second now and rip him a new one before dusting him. Spike’s eyes widened. Please let the claim have worked, please let the claim have worked, please let the claim have worked... A half-hour later, and he was still chanting the litany. Luckily, nobody had come storming in through the door of the crypt with the flames of hell blazing after them, so he figured he was safe. For now. Sigh. He was the Slayer of two Slayers. And now he was falling for his third – the one he couldn’t kill. The one he wanted to kill. Didn’t want to kill. Fuck. Where the hell did his demon stand in this damn decision, anyway?! He couldn’t help it though. Sometimes, he just felt connected to her, and not only by way of her blood. There was something electric in the air whenever he was around her, even a mile within her vicinity. And he was always thinking of her, now. It was blissful and frustrating at the same time. Back when Dru had dumped him, it had been because of his seemingly endless obsession with the Slayer. Now it was obvious that Drusilla had been seeing what he couldn’t. She could see the Slayer, invading his thoughts. And it hadn’t been visions of Buffy's death that Dru had seen. Buffy smiling. Laughing. Sad. Angry. Dancing. Brave!Buffy. Buffy fighting. Fighting him. Pounding on him. Straddling him. Fucking him. ONLY him. A lot. Moaning, screaming, cumming (and hard, all over him)... Okay, so Dru hadn't exactly seen the more sexual aspects of those thoughts (God forbid what would have happened to him if she had), but she had seen Buffy swirling around in his brain, and that had been enough. Now he had naked Buffy images swirling around in his brain. So now, he was horny. Great. After a moment, he opened his eyes and shrugged. Eh. He had a while till sunset. More Buffy-fantasies wouldn't hurt anything. He grinned, ran his hand over his taut stomach, then plopped back in his recliner. Not even a second later, and his jeans were on the ground, his head rolled back, eyes shut, smile on, hands stroking feverishly, hips thrusting desperately. Sigh... sweet release. A loud scream pierced the air. Anya, busily rummaging amongst Giles’ belongings, jumped out of her skin (figuratively speaking, of course. You had to be really careful of what you said on the Hellmouth), nearly dropping an extremely old Tiki ‘god of wine’ statue. At least, that's what she thought it was. Turning, she looked over Giles’ couch where she found Willow and Tara with comforting hands on Buffy’s shoulders. Buffy herself had her face in her hands, letting out little whines of unhappiness. Dawn sat across from them, flipping boredly through one of her school books while smirking her amusement at her sister's actions. Buffy captured their attention once again by banging her head down on Giles’ coffee table and whining. Again. "I hate this! Riley is being such a... God, I can’t even say anything bad about him! I know he means well, and I know he wants to help and worries about me, but he nearly died because he wanted to be freaking Superman! I really want to give him more credit, but the more he interferes, the more he’s liable to die. He thinks he’s the super-hero; he thinks he has to match me for everything I do! He doesn't get that I just want him to be there for me. I want him to stay behind the scenes, but he wants to be out there so he can protect me, like I can’t take care of myself!" "Well, he’s got good reason to want to protect you. You are his girlfriend, and he loves you, Buffy. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, ya know?" Willow stated, rubbing soothing circles across Buffy's back. But not in a sexy way. Because, hey - Tara. Buffy glanced up for a moment, a frown on her face as she looked at Willow. "For the record, I blame you. You encouraged me to be with him. You're all Super-Wicca, you couldn't have seen his aura or something and told me he was going to turn out like this?" Willow flinched back, slightly hurt. Okay, it was true, she had encouraged Buffy to go out with Riley... in fact, she'd probably shoved having a relationship with him right down Buffy's throat... But Buffy had been trying to get over Asshole!Angel and Poophead!Parker, and the red-head had been with Oz, and Buffy had been all alone, and she had just wanted Buffy to not be alone anymore, and was that so wrong? "I-I'm sorry, Buffy," she murmured quietly, looking down. Buffy gazed at her, instantly feeling bad as Willow's unconscious "kicked puppy" look appeared. The tiny blonde shook her head and sighed. "No, Will, it's not your fault. Witch or not, you couldn't have known what he could turn into. I'm sorry." Willow frowned sympathetically, but she was still trying so hard to understand why Buffy had suddenly become so Anti-Riley. And to think, it had all only started last week. And over what? Spike getting his chip out. That had resulted in the Scoobies’ main couple having their relationship slipping and sliding, and occasionally free-falling downhill. Spike hadn’t even been seen since then. He was completely incommunicado. Unless Riley had gone out against Buffy’s orders and dusted him. Willow truly, truly hoped that wasn’t the case, because as much of a sinister force as Spike was now without the chip, she kind of liked the Master vampire. Well, save for his jabs at Xander, even though her best guy friend did sometimes deserve them. But otherwise, he tended to be a pretty good listener. He gave good advice, and he really, truly did seem almost human at times. He had feelings, for God’s sake. All in all, Spike was a nice guy when he wasn’t threatening to kill them... although that hadn’t happened in a really long time... oh, and that was another thing. Killing. There’d been none. There hadn’t been any reports of Spike going on a psychopathic rampage and killing everyone and everything in sight. Buffy, on a whim, had gone to check out the butcher’s, and received some startling information – Spike was still getting baggy blood there. Oh. Yeah. And then there was the minor fact that Spike hadn't killed Buffy. Yet, a tiny, timid voice inside her mind whimpered. She shrugged off the bad vibes and turned her attention back to Buffy. She was describing the talk she’d had with Riley the day after they found out about Spike’s little bite-an’-slurp. "... and he had the nerve to say that HE forgave ME for yelling at him last week! Like I'm the bad guy here! I mean... not that Riley’s the bad guy, but... UGH, this is so frustrating! I thought I loved him, and I liked being with him, and I’m glad he hasn't fallen victim to the Buffy Summers' curse. The thing is, I used to love hearing him talk big and see him take charge when he was coming with me to take out baddies. But now, it’s like... every time he opens his mouth, I just want to strangle him! I never knew exactly how biased he could be sometimes. I mean, Angel has a soul, and Riley tried to kill him! And, I don't mean to bring up icky memories, sorry," she offered in apology to both witches with a cringe, "but if I hadn't been so gung-ho about plowing into the Initiative to go after Oz last year, would Riley ever have helped?" Buffy was close to tears. Feeling this way was so exhausting and heart wrenching. And, god, to top it all off, Spike had apparently developed some sort of sexual interest in her, and that in itself had thrown her for a loop. Not just a normal loop. Oh, no, this was Spike she was dealing with here. Spike had loops, and Spike’s loops were the kind of loops on a freaking roller coaster; the kind that tossed you around three or four times until you were completely immobile for fear of puking. First, there had been his little impromptu grind session with her on the floor of Doctor Overheiser’s office. Then there had been that little incident in her bedroom, when he’d tied her up, lit her on fire, then ignited something she'd never even felt before with Angel when he’d... kissed her... She caught her eyes glazing and bolted upright again. Whoops, train derailing. Get your thoughts back on TRACK, Buff! The other night, Spike had returned to her bedroom again, with the handcuffs. He’d done the exact same things to her. Except this time, he had prolonged it. And it was a little more... lewd. The image of something long, thick and hard, with shiny, light blue plastic - something that happened to belong to her - popped into her head, and she tried valiantly not to become a ripe tomato. Instead, she turned her focus back onto her griping. "Seriously, you should’ve heard the condescending tone he was using with me. He was treating me like a four year old, and God, I was so ready to just slap him across the room! Who the hell gives him the right to talk down to me the way he did? Oh, 'Mr. I'm-A-Psych-Major-And-I-Know-Everything-Under-The-Sun-About-Buffy-And-Blahbbity-Blah...'" Willow didn’t exactly know what to say to her. When Angel had been the problem, she'd somehow known exactly what to do, exactly what to say to try and comfort the Slayer. But now, with Riley... they’d seemed so perfect at first. Now... it appeared that Riley wanted the active role in what Buffy could or couldn’t do. He wanted to take control and commandeer Buffy’s life. Buffy was beside herself, not knowing what to do. And Willow, for once, had no idea what to do for her. The guilt inside of her for setting Buffy up with Riley in the first place was almost overwhelming. She hated to say it, but it looked like break-up was imminent in the future. Poor Buffy was aching over the way things were going. Willow frowned. Her only question was, why did Buffy seem more annoyed than heartbroken about Splitsville? Fighting. GOD. The rush of it all. The adrenaline pumping through your system. The blood rushing through your veins. Buffy rolled back on the balls of her feet in excitement as a particularly large vampire approached her, baring his teeth and snarling. He tilted his head, sniffing once. A large smile curled on his face as he recognized her scent. The scent of strength and power. The scent of... "Mmmm. The Slayer," he hissed through a row of ugly, gnarled teeth. Buffy grinned back wickedly. "Compost," she greeted back, then whipped out her stake. Seconds until dusting: ninety and counting. The vampire barged toward her, and Buffy scooched to the side, just barely avoiding being bulldozed by the behemoth. Instead of turning around, she cartwheel-ed forward, then flipped once, landing in a crouch, facing him. Then she rushed him. The dull thud of skin against skin echoed across the graveyard. Buffy was thrilled. She hadn’t had a good challenge in a while, since a certain someone (*cough*spike*cough*) had decided to avoid her for the past two days. It had already been two minutes and forty seconds since she had begun this fight, and Buffy wasn’t planning on ending it any time soon. Apparently Big, Gross and Burly had other plans. He grabbed Buffy by her neck, lifted her up and slammed her down painfully hard onto a large, flat tombstone. Buffy moaned softly from the pain. Fuck... if that hadn’t broken her back, then it at least had to have cracked some ribs. This could prove to be bad. Still, she got up and continued to fight. Ever the trooper, Buff. Right hook, left upper cut, roundhouse kick, quick right jab, knee to the groin. Hah, that always got 'em -- 'Kay. She hadn’t expected that. Suddenly, Buffy was flat on her back, looking up at the sky, with a big, heavy vampire on top of her, lowering his face to her neck. She tensed and bucked roughly, letting out a whimper of displeasure. She felt something cloudy surround her immediately, covering her with a powerful haze and suddenly, the vamp bolted straight up, staring at her and glancing around himself in fear. He got up to run and made it about five paces before a swish of green and brown dashed past her. And then he was dust. Buffy sat up and looked around in confusion until she found her savior. Then sighed in annoyance as Riley got in her line of sight. He walked toward her with a stern, angry look on his face before grabbing her arm and jerking her up. She let out a cry of pain and grabbed at her ribs, then jerked away from him furiously, glaring with an almost feral look about her eyes. Either Riley didn’t even notice, or her played it off really well. He shook his head. "God, what is it with you, Buffy? I think you were right about being a vampire chew toy. Only difference is that I think you like it. You can’t seem to get enough of it!" She scowled angrily at the man that she had once been blindly devoted to. "Oh, yeah, Riley. I just love feeling teeth in my neck and getting drained of my life. That’s the reason I let Angel, Dracula and Spike all have me, you know. In fact, that’s why I keep Spike around. I’m like his very own little blood tap. If he’d just drank the tiniest bit more, I could be free of this life, and free of you, Mr. Bossy... Controlling Guy!" she finished lamely. Ferocity entered his eyes the minute she had mentioned Angel and Spike, the two vampires that happened to be "related," and who both had an interest in the Slayer. On different levels, of course, but Riley was starting to suspect a common connection working in with the younger vampire. The same sort of connection that the Hostile's Sire had had with Buffy. Buffy lowered her eyes and watched his fists clench and unclench. She looked back up at his face, and saw that his teeth were clenching tightly as well. "Maybe I should get some vamp to turn me, then. Seeing as how only walking corpses can get your attention, maybe I should get your precious Spike to turn me. Since you seem to like being such a vamp whore --" Her eyes widened, then reacted on instinct, hauling off and punching him brutally in the face. He let out a cry and fell, clutching his nose, his eyes staring up at her in astonishment. She’d hit him. She’d actually hit him! "You asshole. Get the hell away from me. Leave. Before I tear you apart and shove a goddamn telephone pole up your ass! Stay the fuck away from me, and don’t ever try to talk to me again! You... god, you disgust me right now, and I have no idea how I could’ve put up with your bullshit for so long. Go!" Riley stared at her, breathing harshly out of his mouth, before his eyes lowered. Talk about the Royal Fuck-Up. This one truly took the cake. He’d reacted too strongly on some strange form of jealousy, and now she hated him. He got up, still holding his nose, and started to walk off. He turned back hopefully when she called his name. "Riley," she called, tilting her head. "About getting Spike to turn you... Don’t ever joke around about that..." Her expression hardened. "Because Spike wouldn’t even bother to wet his boots with your blood, let alone drink from you." Riley’s eyes widened with hurt, and he turned away again, stumbling out of the cemetery in shock. No... THAT was the Royal Fuck-Up. Buffy drew a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes. And amazingly, a calm, settling peace washed over her. She smiled. Hah! Who’d’ve thunk it? Breaking it off with Riley had done the trick. She felt more calm and relaxed now than she’d been since Spike had last left her. Speaking of... Her neck tingled and a shiver ran straight down her back. She turned around, yelping when she came face to face with the vamp in question. He gently ran a single finger down her bare shoulder. "Been wondering when you’d get the hint." He hadn’t been spying on her. Really, he hadn’t. Okay, so maybe he had, early on in the night, but up until around ten minutes ago, he’d been cuddled up in his crypt, trying to watch Nick at Nite through the crappy antennae view. He’d felt something shoot through him, and a warning light go off in his head. The feeling was directly linked with Buffy, and he figured something was wrong, so he’d jumped up and dashed out of his crypt. When he’d gotten to the little clearing, he’d spotted a fat-ass vampire about to chow down on the tiny girl. He’d smirked when the vamp had suddenly sensed Spike's presence, then leaned in and scented the mark, right when the claim took control, protecting her from the oversized blob. The grin had grown wider when Fat-Ass jumped up and ran off in fear. That grin had become into a frown when he saw that Finn had taken him out. The grin had come back when Buffy had decked him, then told him to get the hell out. And by the time Buffy had told him the bit about his blood, Spike’s entire head could’ve been considered one huge, fangy grin. Two thoughts ran clearly and coherently through his head. The first was About fucking time! The second was GOD, I love her. Buffy stared up at the bleached vampire, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Spike licked his lower lip. Damn it; he’d wanted to mess with her head a little first, piss her off and tease her a bit. But now... looking at her, all hot and blushy and sweaty and tousled and almost anticipating of what he’d do... Fuck. Now he was just horny. Hungry, too, but mostly horny. His dick seemed to be doing all of the thinking for him the more he was around Buffy. He pulled her close and flashed her a pleased smile as she gasped. His erection, fully hard and straining, reaching out to her, was nestled firmly against the taut muscles of her stomach. Buffy whimpered softly as heat flooded between her legs. Ohhh, bad. So... so, bad... but good. Oh, good. Oh, god, so good... no, no, no, BAD! Come on, Buff, you can control yourself in front of him. Don't let him completely turn you into a big pile of Buffy mush. Don't let him control you. Stay strong. All you have to do is just... stay... strong. Spike leaned into her and nuzzled her neck for a moment, placing a kiss softly over her scars. Lifting his head, he kissed her forehead, then led a trail down to her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and her chin, gently trying to coax her out of the little shell she seemed content to stay in. When she finally let her guard down, Spike grasped the back of her head roughly, and shoved his lips to hers, his unwittingly elongated fangs providing extra brutality in what was otherwise a completely passionate kiss. Buffy let out a sharp, pained, muffled cry and braced her hands against his chest, trying to pull away. When Spike refused to let go, Buffy resorted to violence, and brought her knee up between them. Spike let out a howl and grabbed his midsection, backing away and staring at her with flashing yellow eyes. And suddenly, he was met with a hard, cruel punch to the jaw, one so powerful that it sent him flying back ten feet. He promptly shot up, and let out a vicious growl, launching himself at her and grasping her shoulders tightly, switching instinctively to game face. He cocked his head, smirking at her evilly. "You’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that, luv," he growled. Buffy jerked out of his grip, and threw another punch at him. "The only thing I’m wishing is that I’d dusted you when you came back to Sunnydale, Spike," she spat, punctuating her sentence with a fist to the gut and, as he doubled over, a kick to the back of his legs, sending him down. Spike grasped her leg as he hit the grass and jerked her down with him, catching her completely off guard. He grinned. "So we’re gonna dance, then, are we, Slayer?" She jumped up before he had a chance to cover her, and executed a kick to the head. "This isn’t dancing, Bleach Boy. This is me, kicking your sorry ass all over town for the five-hundredth time!" She stood over him and bashed him in the side of the head as soon as he got onto his knees. A complete and utter mistake, as Spike now had easy aim toward her middle and assaulted her with a barrage of punches to the gut. She gave just as good as she got, returning a punch for a punch, jab for a jab, kick for a kick. Spike was in heaven. Or as close as he could get, anyway. He was getting harder by the minute, and was eager to finish the fight so that he could take her back to the crypt and engage in some, uh... Olympic acrobatics. It was probably a bad idea for his more southern brain to bring that up, because now he was fully distracted. He didn’t even notice it when Buffy somersaulted over his head, landing behind him. He did notice, however, when she kicked him down and shoved his face to the ground. She sat on top of him and dug her knee into his back, grasping his hands and holding him down forcefully (which was probably a mistake; Spike seemed to like that too much.) She leaned down to speak in his ear, and he had to hold back a moan as he felt her small, humble, soft breasts press against him. "I don’t know what you’ve been thinking about lately, or what weird fixations have been dancing around in your head, but I want it to stop. Now. Whatever this sick fascination is that you have with me, I want you to get over it. No more coming into my room at night, no more chaining me to the bed, no more following me on patrol," she narrowed her eyes, and he had the decency to look sheepish through the un-smooshed part of his face, "no more anything. Don’t toy around with me. I have a job to do, and you’re keeping me from doing it. But for some godforsaken reason, something is telling me not to just be done with you right now. For now, Spike, just back off. Because next time I won’t hesitate to put a redwood through your chest." Spike let out a quiet growl – much like the one that he’d used to subdue her at the doctor’s – and Buffy instantly quieted down. For some weird reason, she felt chastised and apologetic. From Spike’s growl, he sounded like he was reprimanding her for disobeying him, like a mother would a child. And abruptly, she yelped as Spike knocked her off of him, then crawled on top of her, holding all her limbs down. His icy fingers ran over her cheek and down her neck as his body settled comfortably over hers. "Now I know you don’t mean any of that, pet," he replied in a deep, rumbling voice. Buffy avoided his eyes – somehow, she knew that staring into those hypnotic blue pools would immediately incapacitate her. It was a definite weak spot, and a big no-no. "I’m sure you know better’n to threaten me. Be a good little chit, or I’ll hafta punish you..." He smiled at her satanically. "Unless you want me to punish you." The tone of his voice indicated that Spike’s idea of punishment was very obviously anything but an actual punishment. He lowered his head to her neck, his teeth sharp and at the ready to pierce her skin. She felt cool, useless air on her neck, and suddenly, she panicked, bucking him off of her and scrambling to her feet. Staring at him, breathing hard and wide-eyed, she raised a finger at him. "Stay away from me, Spike. I mean it. Leave me alone. I don’t know what’s going on with you, or me for that matter, but I don’t want to kill you. Don’t give me a reason to." She continued to back away slowly, keeping an eye on him the entire time until she was about twenty feet away. Then she spun and bolted away. Spike growled in frustration as he got up. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Now he was hungry and horny, and he couldn't do shit about it! Well, that wasn’t true. He could enjoy a nice toss off right in the middle of the cemetery, but then he might be caught by some big ugly, and that... would be BAD. But he’d forgotten that he was no longer restricted by the government. He could feed now. He could kill. And he would kill. He’d fucking show that fucking bitch cock tease just how fucking scared of him she should be. He wasn’t gonna let his hormones get in the way. Next time he saw her, he was gonna rip her throat out. Of course, he knew he would never actually kill her. Leave me to my own fucking fantasies, damn it! he thought defensively at the rational, know-it-all part of his brain. He smiled at the comforting thought, then shrugged. He was free now, and apparently wasn’t gonna get any tonight unless he resorted to Harmony (fat fucking chance in hell. He'd barbecue his balls, first), or his own hand. He might as well go get someone to eat. Walking out of the cemetery and onto the street in a path that led in the direction opposite of Buffy’s home, Spike grumbled, rubbing his stomach. Shit. The little bitch kept getting stronger. That punch had really hurt! Deciding to try the playground at Sunnydale Elementary School, Spike growled and grinned in pleasure when he saw the inevitable group of teenage kids hanging about and bullshitting around. Stupid kids; most of them had been brought up with rules forbidding them to stay outside in Sunnydale during the night, yet they all still did it anyway. Regular Sunnydale occurrences were quite famous amongst the children who were dumb enough to test the legends. He walked toward the group and switched on a cool, suave demeanor. Three girls, five boys. All the boys were jock types. Two blonde girls, one brunette. They looked to all be around sixteen or seventeen. Picking up on a sense of nervousness in two of the girls – one of the blondes, and the brunette – Spike turned his attention to the slightly bolder girl. As if sensing him, she turned her head and caught his eye. Her own eyes widened in awe, and took on that dopey love struck look. She bit her lower lip and deftly adjusted her shirt, pulling it down slightly to bear her cleavage. Spike grinned and winked at the little bint; hook, line, and sinker. And all he’d had to do was look at her. Saying that she needed to go over and check something out (Thank bloody God for his preternatural hearing) to her friends, he watched her approach the area he’d hidden in questioningly. Stepping out, he gave her a smoldering gaze and tilted his head. It definitely came in handy looking as good as he did. Even if he couldn’t ever see himself. "Hullo, luv. Whatcha doin’ out here at this time a night?" he questioned, softening his voice and giving his accent a more uppercrest adjustment. He watched as her smile widened at his accent and chuckled to himself. She looked as if she was about to swoon. Stupid cunt had no clue what was in store for her. "Uh, j-just hanging out, w-with my friends, mister." Spike frowned disdainfully. "Mister. Makes me sound old as all get out. Call me Spike." She nodded quickly and swallowed hard. "Okay... Spike. Um... what are you doing out here all by yourself?" Spike smiled and walked forward, putting his hands on the girl’s shoulders gently. Just before he answered, he shifted into game face and bared his fangs in a wide grin. "Lookin’ for a midnight snack," he growled. Clamping one large hand over the girl’s mouth as her eyes widened in fear, he dove lightning quick toward her neck, nearly dying (again) from hunger. He stopped the second his teeth touched her neck, hearing a terrified little whimper escape her throat. Her heartbeat was drumming to an insane beat. Her blood was rushing in her veins, thrumming about in his ears, and driving him wild with bloodlust, but it was that one sound, that one little whimper, that made him stop. Slowly, he pulled away, his hand still over the girl’s mouth, and peered at her through the haze. And in the instant that he looked at her, he saw Buffy. The girl had Buffy’s eyes. They weren’t exactly Buffy’s eyes, since the Slayer’s were a unique swatch of almost every fucking color under the sun, but they were close enough as possible to the real thing. And instead of as before, when her fear would’ve delighted him and made him hunger for her more... it made his stomach churn, and he felt sick for what he’d been about to do. Oh, bloody hell; he felt guilty. His eyes closed and his thoughts withdrew as his demon and William began a mental battle inside of him Buffy would hate you if you killed this girl. Shut the hell up, you stuffy little ponce... I'm fuckin' hungry. You could go to the bloody butcher's and get some blood from there! She's an innocent, she's done nothing wrong! She's here in front of me, all nice, fresh, and warm, and stupid enough to be hangin' about the bloody Hellmouth at night. It's not like anyone would miss the stupid little bitch, anyway. That isn't true, and you know it! God damn it, you ignorant little fuckin' pansy, she's food! I eat gits like her! I'm a vampire, a demon! I've been with you for over a hundred years, why the fuck don't you get it?! I know what you are. I've had to put up with you for far too long... Very well, then. You have a choice. You can eat this girl and never look back from it-- Choice A, please! May I finish? Fine. You can drain the innocent and never look back on it... and lose Buffy in the process. Or you can let her go, take my advice and go to the butcher's, and Buffy will never be any the wiser about what you've tried to do. Choose. Which is more important? A snack? Or Buffy? ... I hate you. Likewise, mate. Spike gave a soft sigh as the two warring sides each backed away. He shook his head to clear it, staring at the girl, who was white with fear, then closed his eyes. "Just had to sprout a ruddy conscience, didn't I?" he muttered. Sighing again, he reverted to his human form and looked kindly at the shaken girl with bright blue eyes. "Get movin’, luv. Don’t stay out at night in Sunnydale, you should know better. You might run into someone like me that won’t let you go so easy." He tilted his head at her, taking his hand off of her mouth. "Not a word of this to anyone. I might get my ass kicked if anyone found out that ole Spike’s gone soft. I’ve got a rep to maintain," he said, grinning at the girl. The girl nodded quickly, awed and frightened at this monster/man that she’d encountered. She turned to leave, when Spike called out to her again. "Be careful out here, pet. There’s lotsa nasties runnin’ around. Gather up your chums and get on home, quick as youcan. An' if you ever do run into trouble -- go to the Magic Box downtown." The girl nodded again, then ventured a tiny smile at the vampire. Spike smiled back gently, then made a shooing motion. He felt like he was with the little Bit right now. Hmph. Dawn’s innocence; Buffy’s soul. What a way to bring a man down. When the girl was gone, he turned and walked toward the butcher’s, shaking his head and growling. "Bloody git... the hell kind of a vampire am I? I'm turning into fuckin' Angelus..." He stopped, his eyes widening in horror. "She's fuckin' defanged me an' turned me into the soddin' poof!" TBC...

Chapter #4 - ooh. spike lips.

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part IV... .:ooh. spike lips.:. He walked up to Giles’ flat, letting out a sigh. Things were bad. Very, very bad. He figured that since the Scoobies seemed to need a meeting place, they would most definitely be here. Maybe they’d have some sort of information for him. Anything right now – from any one – would help him out. He knocked on the door as he opened it. And was met by five very, very angry Scooby faces. The ones that probably worried him the most were the ones from a certain red head and a former Watcher. A certain angry redhead that also happened to be a witch, and a former Watcher that had dabbled in the black arts as a youth This could be bad, he thought. Finally Xander spoke up, standing up and letting go of Anya ( who looked more excited about the vengeance of the coming exchange, rather than angry). Xander shot him a sarcastic smirk. "Riley. To what do we owe... this?" he asked, spreading his arms out and indicating that he really meant, "This isn’t your place anymore. Why the fuck are you here?" That was definitely bad. Xander was giving him the attitude that he only reserved for a particularly annoying bleach blonde vamp Riley Finn took a deep breath and looked around at the group. Please, please, at least ONE friendly face that wouldn’t cast any harsh judgment on him... Okay, okay, so he’d called Buffy a vamp whore. That was at the very top of the Very Big List of Very Wrong Things to Say to a Slayer. Every single person in this room was close to Buffy in some way – well, except for Willow’s, um, girlfriend (the thought that Willow was a lesbian still stunned him, though he'd found out around the time Buffy had). So there was no way that anyone would be on his side here. Willow looked like she was restricting herself from zapping his eyelids shut and blasting flesh-eating scarab beetles on him. Xander cleared his throat and folded his arms, while Giles stood up, a silent vigil behind him. "Are we gonna hear an answer sometime today, Commando Boy?" Riley winced. Definitely. Bad. Xander - who he had gotten along with perfectly until then - was calling him those – the names that – that Hostile 17 had taken to calling him. Damn it, he’d made one mistake, and he’d already been dropped down lower on the ladder than a soulless, murdering vampire. The thought made him shudder. "No, uh... I mean, yeah. Listen, guys, she’s really mad at me, and I really want to apologize, believe me, but she won’t let me anywhere near her. I was out of my head that night, I don’t know what I was thinking. I know I hurt her, and I’m really, incredibly sorry about it. But I need your help. I have to talk to her." The minute he’d started talking, Willow had gotten up and walked out of the living room toward Giles’ study, content to stay angry at Riley, and Tara had followed to calm her down. Anya, sensing some big male thing was coming, had wanted to stay, but knew better. She got up and left the three men alone in the living room to sort things out. This could be bad. He was up against Buffy’s surrogate father, and surrogate older brother. There was no way he wasn’t gonna get shot down. Xander looked at him. "Man, you are so lucky that Anya’s not a demon anymore, and that Willow just let you off with a Death glare. Otherwise, you’d be Crispy-Fried Riley, right there on the floor. And I doubt Giles is up to cleaning your mess –" Giles held his hand up and shot the dark-haired boy a look. "Quiet, Xander." Turning to Riley, he considered him for a moment before speaking. "You called her nothing short of a prostitute, Riley. You had the nerve to call that incredible woman a whore. She has never asked for vampires to bite her," he said. "She forced Angel to in order to save his life. The Master took her blood by force. Dracula held her under thrall. She may have been star struck to meet him, but she would never willingly have given him her blood. It is a miracle in itself that Spike didn’t kill her – she and I were both certain that he would’ve drained her given half the chance. She is the Slayer; every vampire in the world wants a taste of her. Spike has even mentioned to us before that her blood is a powerful and strengthening force. They want it. It’s not her fault." Riley rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I know, I know. It’s just, that night, when I found her, I was still a little angry about what she said to me last time. About me trying to control her? I was angry, and frustrated. And then it was coupled with what she’d said about being a vampire chew toy. And when I found her, this big vamp was on top of her, getting ready to bite her. I don’t know what she did, though. He was perfectly ready to sink his teeth into her, and then he just took off." Xander raised his eyebrows at the fair-haired boy, thoroughly unimpressed. "And how exactly did that make you think that she’s a vamp whore?" Xander shook his head. "Riley... I don’t know what your deal is. And if it’s jealousy issues, you need to get them way under control. Otherwise, just get the hell out of Sunnydale now, and leave Buffy alone." Riley watched quietly as Xander turned and left the room. Uh-oh. Alone with Giles. This could be life threatening. Giles remained quiet for a bit, not facing him. He watched as the older man lifted his hand up to rub his brow. His glasses weren’t on. Was that a bad sign? He’d only been around Buffy’s friends for a year, and he hadn’t exactly gotten a handle on their habits. He was jolted back to reality when Giles turned his head and looked up at him, clearing his throat loudly, his eyes cold and unfeeling. "I have no idea what possessed you to refer to my charge like that. Buffy is a remarkable girl, and for her to have survived as long as she has, despite the numerous attempts on her life make your words the very pit of ignorance. Fortunately for you, I have found a way to control my anger over it." He stalked up to Riley, steeling his gaze and looking pure Ripper. "But my method shan’t last long. If, and when you make another mistake, you will truly wish you had never tangled with the Slayer." Giles turned to follow the younger ones, then stopped to say something else. "I will do anything to see that Buffy is happy. And I will ensure that my Slayer stays happy. If keeping her far away from you is the way to go about that, then I shall continue to do so. As long as she is content and relaxed in the situation she is in, and competent in her slaying, as she is now, then rest assured you will not come within striking distance of the girl ever again. Do not think that you can manipulate one of us to help you get to her. We are not your way to Buffy. There is no way to Buffy." He scowled, his eyes narrowing. "Get out of my house." Wow. He’d never encountered Giles in full Ripper force before. He sighed as Giles left the room before he himself turned to walk out of the door. Buffy was happy without him? To borrow a Scooby phrase, this was not of the good. He thought she was happy with him. At least, that was what she’d always told him. Something was wrong, something had to be wrong. He couldn’t just be out of the picture like that, could he? He couldn’t live without this girl. And he was pretty damn sure it was the same on her end. Something had to be manipulating her, making her seem happy and fine, when truthfully, she must be miserable inside without him there! * Calling all ego-maniacs, please report to Riley Finn. We repeat, all ego-maniacs, please report to Riley Finn at headquarters. Make sure your ego has been fully inflated. Twenty times its own size is the minimum limit. * Something was up with Buffy, and he had a vague feeling that he knew who was behind it. He’d get to the bottom of this, even if it killed him. Unfortunately, in Sunnydale, that was entirely possible. Spike stormed through the graveyard, kicking down headstones left and right and snorting with satisfaction when they hit the ground and crumbled. Needless to say, he was pissed off. It was three days later, and he was still stewing over it. He hadn’t killed that girl! Instead, he’d actually let the little bitch go , listened to his poncy inner self, and went to the fucking butcher! It's all her fault. It was her face he had seen when he’d attempted to eat the girl. She had stopped him. He’d nearly thrown fits – thank God he’d kept his cool. But when his mind’s eye had seen Buffy’s face in the girl’s, he’d honestly thought that he’d made a mistake and attacked the wrong person. The person he had the warm, fuzzy feelings for (he still couldn’t bring himself to say the ‘L’ word – yet) instead of some stupid unsuspecting brat. That did it. Buffy was dead. He sprang over a headstone, and darted through a few more, never stopping, always running in the direction of her home. "I’ll show her," he muttered, arm shooting out and stabbing a minion without even looking. "I’ll show that little bitch. I’ll make her pay for tryin’ to give me a fuckin’ soul. I’ll make her pay for gettin’ me to pay attention to her an’ that stupid brat sis of hers, an’ that stupid hair an’ stupid perfume. An’ those big, puppy dog eyes of hers. An’ the way they crinkle when she laughs. An’ that silly, soddin’ bump on her nose. An’ that... GAH! I’m gonna kill her!" He ran smack into a tree from his passion on the topic. That’s when he realized that he was right outside her house. Grumbling, he hoisted himself into the tree and climbed to her window. Looking about as he sat on her sill, he sighed, then climbed inside. Buffy was content. There wasn’t much else to be said but that. Riley hadn’t bugged her since that night at the cemetery, and while she felt thoroughly disappointed that he wasn’t going to humiliate himself in front of her by getting down on his knees and apologizing, she was glad that she didn’t have to put up with his stupid bullshit anymore. Willow had called her and told her that Giles had told Riley off, which made her even more giddy. Buffy was actually pleased to be away from her boyfriend. True, they hadn’t officially broken up; they were just apart. Far apart. But there was a nasty tension between them whenever they were in the same vicinity anymore, and at the moment, she was relieved to, well, be relieved from that. The only thing she wasn’t sure about was Spike. She hadn’t seen him for three nights, either. It worried her a little. Spike was as free as a bird now. Nothing could stop him from killing, and she was wigged that he might be hiding out, making plans for her demise. Despite all the touchy-feely-ness that he’d suddenly seemed to develop when he was near her, she was still... scared... that Spike’s full reemergence as the Big Bad of Sunnydale would result in her death. Otherwise, she was just peachy. "No, really?" "Yuh-huh. Tara, Anya, Xander, and I were listening from the door. Giles was mad... He was going all Ripper and everything. It was pretty darn freaky, but at the same time, it was so cool!" Buffy laughed. "It serves him right for calling me a whore! I told you he was getting all passive-aggressive on me!" Willow giggled on her end of the line. "Well, it was fun to watch. Riley didn’t even say anything when Giles told him to get out. He just stood there, kinda all ‘dur, what do I do now?’ until Giles left, and then he walked out the door. I think Giles freaked him out a little too well. The funny thing is, I think Giles is proud of himself for it!" Buffy snorted, turning a corner and heading up the steps to her room. "Okay, yeah, that’s funny. Giles all puffed up like a peacock because he scared the hell out of my ignorant boyfriend? God, I wish I could’ve seen that! Anyway, I’ve gotta go, Will. Professor Randall is gonna shit a brick if I fall asleep in class one more time." Willow agreed. "Same here. And we thought Professor She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was a stickler, right? I’ll see you tomorrow, Buffy." "Can do, Wills," Buffy replied, yawning as she turned down her hallway and knocking gently on Dawn’s door as an indication to turn off the music and go to sleep. She heard the teenager grumble and moan, but do as was implied. "G'night, Buffy!" she called out. ""Night, Dawnie!" the older Summers' girl called back, then returned to the phone to reiterate the same to Willow. "’Night, Buffy. Tell Dawnie I said goodnight!" "Willow says goodnight!" Buffy called through the door. Dawn hollered back a ‘goodnight’ for the witch before her lights went out. Chuckling to herself, Buffy relayed Dawn's message to her friend before she turned off the phone. After a short stop in her mother’s room for a hug and kiss goodnight, Buffy retreated to her bedroom. Where she heard voices. Well, not so much voices as one voice. One specific voice. "What the fuck did you do to me, you stupid bitch?" was the growl she heard as she made it to her bedroom door. Buffy winced. Shit. Why was he in her room? Hadn’t she told him to leave her alone? She peeked through the doorway and saw that he was pacing and gesturing emphatically, dressed in his usual black tribute to punk. A pair of tight black jeans (really tight - so tight, in fact, that he was lucky he had no circulation); a black T-shirt that looked as if it had been spray-painted on; his usual black leather duster, swishing about and lapping at his legs with his every move; and a pair of thick, black, clunky army boots that looked right at home on the pale, goth–like vampire. He turned then, and she caught a glimpse of a heavy silver chain around his neck, and a big, silver-buckled belt around his waist. "Bloody bad enough when that stupid piece of tin was in my head, shocking me every damn time I tried to do something, but this is just bloody ridiculous! You’ve made me bloody powerless! Again! I swear this is how you get your kicks, innit? As if you didn’t do enough to destroy my life ever since I bloody met you, now this!" Okay. It was a really good thing that Mom and Dawn – pardon the expression – slept like the dead. She pushed the door open fully, her eyes darting about, and stared incredulously at what she saw. Spike was yelling at a picture. Her picture, to be precise. He’d propped a photo of her, Willow, Xander and Dawn up on the dresser, and now appeared to be losing the one-sided rant. It took everything she had not to drop on the floor and laugh hysterically. "What the hell are you doing? Have you finally cracked?" Spike spun around, his blue eyes widening into a ‘deer-caught-in-headlights’ stare. The shock lasted barely one second before dissolving into rage. "I may very WELL have, and it’s your fuckin’ fault! You ruined me, you stupid bint!" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Spike, WHAT are you talking about? What the hell did I do?" Spike rushed her, pulling back an arm and hitting her. "You made me fuckin’ impotent! I tried to eat a kid the other night, but when I fuckin’ looked at her, I saw your prancy, martyr-y, holier-than-all-thou-scum-of-the-earth face, and I couldn’t kill her!" Buffy barely heard him. She was too busy returning his punch. "Don’t fucking hit me! You don’t even have the right to be in my room, Spike, get out! I told you to leave me alone!" Abruptly, he held his hands up in surrender and backed away. Smirking, he tossed himself onto her bed, combat boots and all. "Yeh, you did, luv. Not that I'd listen to you anyway, but you never said I could stop vistin’ either. So here I am. An’, might I add, was damn ready to beat the tar outta you, you little twig." Buffy scowled and threw a stuffed animal at him. The miniature teddy flew through the air and bounced off his forehead, but all he did was laugh. "Get off of my bed!" Spike raised his eyebrows and wriggled his long body against the mattress, making himself more comfortable. "Nope. Don’t think so, kitten. I rather like it where I am." He grinned dementedly. "It really is quite comfy, you know. Why don’t you come and join me? I’m sure we could think of something productive to do." He winked. Buffy marched over to him, lifted him up by the shirt (not that there was much shirt to grab on to) and threw him bodily across the room. Spike was still shooting her that insane grin. "Ooh, getting the urge to man-handle me, are we, luv?" Well, damn. It figured – Spike liked being thrown around. Buffy shot a glimpse at him, sprawled on her floor, cocky, seductive grin in place, and a really big get your eyes back up here right this instant, Buffy! She turned away from him, blushing and flustered. William the Bloody absolutely, positively did NOT exist below the waist! "Spike, you need to leave. Now.. Please, just get out. I’m sure you have other things to do, and really, you’re just wasting your time here right now and – and –" she caught a glimpse of something floating in her vanity mirror, and frowned, gazing at where Spike's invisible body lay on her bed. Her eyes widened and she spun around. "What the hell are you doing?!" she squeaked. Spike had a hold of Mr. Gordo. He was now sniffing at the stuffed pig as if it was some interesting sort of fungus, curiosity as well as mild amusement written on his face. "How long have you had this thing, pet? Ever think to wash it up a bit once in a while?" Before she could stutter out an answer, his attention had drifted elsewhere, and he tossed Mr. Gordo over his shoulder. He turned and began rummaging through her dresser drawers. Buffy, wide-eyed and horrified -- hello, perverted, depraved vampire going through her underwear drawer! – caught the airborne piggy and returned him to his rightful place on her bed before dashing to Spike’s side and pulling at his jacket in an attempt to get him away from her things. "Spike, stop it! Get away from my stuff!" A sharp kick to the shin made him yelp, but he still didn’t budge, and just brushed her away, burrowing deeper. "Leave it be, luv, what’ve you got to hide in here? Lemme – ow, ow! – lemme look!... well, well, lookie here!" Buffy’s eyes bugged out, and she swiped at Spike. "Put that back!" she hissed. Spike grinned wickedly, dangling her dark blue teddy (a present from Riley – one that was probably gonna find a resting place on the scrap heap) above her head. She growled at his immaturity and jumped up to grab it, Spike laughing all the while. "You want it back so badly, put a little effort in it! Hop to it, luv!" he teased. He actually managed to keep her going for about a minute, yanking it out of her reach every time she neared it, until something clicked, and Buffy stopped. "What am I doing?" she asked out loud, then aimed a punch at Spike’s stomach. Spike yelped and kicked at her as he doubled over, sending her sprawling right on her ass. Snickering, he pounced on her, only to immediately find himself being flipped onto his back, Buffy straddling his waist with one leg on either side of him. She yanked her lingerie out of his grasp and shoved it quickly under the bed. When she looked down again, Spike was watching her. The look on his face read more of curiosity and contemplation, rather than 24/7 lust-y thoughts. She frowned and thumped him hard on the chest. "What is wrong with you? My mom and Dawn are asleep, and you have to come in here, crashing around like you’re in a goddamn zoo? Do you think that they’re deaf? And what’s with you digging around in my stuff? There’s a reason they are called privates, Spike!" She sat up, staring down at him. "Why are you here anyway? Why won’t you leave me alone? It’s not rocket-science to figure out that I don’t –" "Buffy." Spike was smiling. Not leering, not smirking, not sneering. Smiling. The sight of one very rare, genuine Spike smile threw her off track. She realized that she had never actually seen him just... smile before. It was hot. She replied with a very eloquent, "Wha?" Spike shook his head, gazing at her almost fondly. "Shut up." That snapped her back to the real world, and she scowled. "I most certainly will –" Shut up now. Ooh. Spike lips. Spike pulled Buffy close, letting out a soft purr. His lips softly danced over hers, his arms wrapping around her waist. He’d tried to be mad at her, he really had. But she looked too damn cute when she was embarrassed and blushing. It was a decidedly couple-ish thing that he’d just pulled, yanking the negligee about, always out of her grasp... but he was really starting to not give a fuck. She was an amazing fighter. The most powerful Slayer he had ever come across in all his 121 years, including the two he'd killed. An absolutely glorious being. And as long as he didn’t do anything to fuck up the tiny sliver of a chance he was uncovering with her, he’d still have the feel of those soft, sweet, strawberry lips against his own. Besides. Those growing warm and fuzzies were something he hadn't felt before... not for that bitch Cecily... not even for Drusilla. They were making him feel pretty good. Grunting softly, he rolled over, pulling her with him. He stumbled as he attempted to stand up and gently tugged her up with him, nearly tripping over their feet as he fumbled his way to the bed. His tongue slid out lightly and pressed against her lips, and she sighed softly as Spike playfully pushed her back on the bed, not straying too far as he fell right on top of her. His kisses grew more firm and demanding, but were soothing and caressing at the same time, as if he knew she would freak out any other way. She breathed one last sigh before any protests were gone, and gave into his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and responding sweetly. Her hands trailed into his hair, tugging lightly on his flaxen curls. He responded with another low purr and nuzzled her, moving his lips away from her mouth and down to her neck. Lightly nipping at her skin, he brought his hand up to run over her stomach, making her shirt shimmy its way up. He felt her tense, then relax. Slowly sliding his hand up her shirt, Spike trailed a thumb along the swell of her breast. Buffy whimpered and writhed under him, her hands moving of their own volition, reaching down and tugging at his shirt. He grunted softly and complied, shrugging off his duster and tossing it to the floor, before he tugged his shirt off. Buffy’s fingers immediately darted to his chest, stroking, rubbing, pinching at his nipples, and making him want her farther beyond all reason. Spike pulled his lips away from hers and ducked down, his cool tongue making contact with the taut muscles of her stomach and moving upwards. Buffy arched up, revealing more skin, and a low rumble escaped from his throat. "Lift up your arms," he mumbled hoarsely, and Buffy obeyed, raising them above her head. Spike slowly pushed her shirt up, over her stomach, over her breasts, her head, and finally tossed it to the floor. His gaze was a mix of heated passion and desire. His eyes showed something else entirely... something she couldn’t exactly decipher. Since the shirt she’d been wearing had been nothing more than a scrap, she’d worn nothing under it, and Spike was treated to a wonderful view. Hunger welled up, and he dove down on her, latching his lips onto one of her soft little nipples, sucking roughly. His cool fingers found her other breast and cupped it lightly, massaging it as his thumb stroked the nipple. It became a rosy-brownish hue in his grasp and hardened considerably quickly. Buffy moaned and lifted a hand to his hair, stroking the altered blonde locks as she pressed his face down against her breast at the same time. Sparks began flying in front of her eyes, and she could feel herself becoming dizzy from Spike’s ministrations. Spike’s lips parted and he pulled away from the raw, hard nipple he’d been sucking on. Choosing not to torture her by attacking the other, he tilted his head down and licked her chest, creating a cool, wet path to her throat. The heat from her skin was absorbed into his, and Spike groaned loudly, his arousal becoming evident against Buffy’s right leg. Buffy likewise let out a moan from the touch of his cold skin against her overheated body, and she tugged him closer. Her movements left absolutely no space free between them. But it still wasn’t close enough. The tip of his tongue made a circle around his mark before brushing roughly over the twin punctures. Buffy cried out softly, a burst of several feelings colliding with each other inside of her, and if she hadn’t been aroused before then, she most definitely was now, several times over. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she realized that this reaction was a little odd, since all he’d done was lick the scars he’d left on her. But right now, it all felt too damn good. So she gave it the brush off. Spike’s hands moved down and he began fiddling with the buttons on her pants. His desire for her was getting the best of him, and it might’ve proved to be bad if a certain annoying pang didn’t keep distracting him. He snarled softly and shoved it away, trying to concentrate fully on Buffy. His hands moved slowly and surely, gently, teasingly over her body, igniting those same little paths of ice fire that she’d felt the first time that he’d ever touched her like this. Oh, god, he wanted to feel her, taste her, be inside of her, feel her sweet, rich blood running down his throat, and for the love of God he HAD to get her to reciprocate his claim! Buffy heard his snarl and was jolted back. She pulled away from him and looked up at him in bafflement. She’d never seen Spike be so beast-like, yet so gentle at the same time. Well, not with anyone except Drusilla. It was unnerving, but it felt... good. Really... really... good. Nice, gentle Spike. Not mean, hurtful Spike. I can live with that. This was Spike. Bad, mean, rude, annoying Spike. The one that had rampaged all over Sunnydale last year to get the Gem of Amarra. The one that had told her that Parker and Angel had thought her not worth a second go. And now, he made her feel things that were infinitely stellar compared to all three of her past lovers. How did that work? "Spike," she whispered. He was so close. So, so close. One more kiss would do her in. She knew it would. She couldn’t control herself. God, one more kiss, and she would give into him. She would let him take over, take control, and let him in. He was right there, and she was finally willing... It couldn’t hurt. Right? Spike frowned down at her, feeling something twitch inside of him from the way she was staring. The human side of him that had been hidden when his demon had inhabited his body... William was pushing his way through, making himself known. His conscience was coming back, and Spike was especially aware. This is wrong. You can’t do this to her. You’ll hurt her more than anyone could if you keep showing her your bestial hormones and allow this to continue, dragging her along. You’ve got to stop now, before you ruin it all. Before I ruin what? Everything. Whatever it is that’s growing between you two. You’ve got to stop pushing and teasing her. If there’s something there, and you keep on like you are, you'll destroy it. Bugger off for a while. Leave her be. He must’ve been slightly off his nut. The ponce was making sense. Spike made a decision. He slid off of the Slayer. Sliding on his duster, he grabbed his shirt and walked toward the window bare-chested. Buffy sat up in alarm. "Spike? Where’re you going?" Spike paused at the sill, his head down. Moonlight streamed in through the darkness, illuminating him, and if she didn’t know any better, she would swear that he was an angel. Pfft. That’d be the day. He looked up, his head cocked at an angle, and gazed at her. Flushed cheeks, tousled honey colored curls, topless, small perfect breasts heaving, green eyes lit with desire, blood pumping with exhilaration, heart pounding with intense need. She was an Aphrodite. Damn it all to hell. "Home, luv." His tone of voice let her know that he wouldn’t answer any questions, but that he was leaving reluctantly. He would just go, then reemerge when needed, as usual. But she couldn’t just let him go. Not now. She stood up and grabbed a shirt, covering herself up with it. Walking over to him, she tilted her head, then reached up and tentatively touched his face. Then carefully, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Will you be all right?" Spike tossed her his usual cocky, casual smile. Albeit only on the cheek, he was slightly stunned that she’d kissed him – of her own volition. Not to mention pleased. "Just fine, Slayer." He wiggled his eyebrows. "See you in a coupla nights." He started to leave, then, unable to resist, looked at her again, bent his head, and kissed her lips, mischievousness glittering in his eyes. "Make sure I’m there when you finally grab the big nit by the short an’ curlies an’ toss him out, won’t you, ducks?" Buffy put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a brilliant grin. "You’ll have a front row seat," she promised. Spike drew a sharp breath, trying not to let on to his astonishment. She’d freely offered him a smile. Maybe that poofy git William was right. Maybe they were on their way to something. Something good. He grinned back at her. "Right, then. Ta, Slayer. An’ make sure you keep that little bit of yours away from me. She’s gettin’ too nosy," he replied, chuckling. Without waiting for a response, he climbed out of the window and slid into the tree, then jumped gracefully to the ground. Buffy peered out of her window, watching him leave. A small frown touched her lips. Her good mood slowly drifted away, and now she was just confused and weary. She put her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had just done, and with whom she’d done it with. Turning away from the window, she sat on her bed, the waves of humiliation welling up inside of her. Tears formed in her eyes. What was going on? Why was he doing this to her? Hadn’t it been enough when he’d simply broken her with his words, but now he had to go and physically torture her, too? She leaned into her pillow. "Oh, god," she whispered. Her willpower snapped, and she began to sob. As soon as Spike was sure he was out of sight, he looked back toward the big house on Revello Drive and shut his eyes tightly, a huge frown drawing down his once smiling face. He leaned against a tree and slid down to the ground, covering his face with his shaking hands. The moonlight glinted off of the bared expanse of the alabaster smooth skin that was visible beneath his duster. Fuck. It was happening. It was really happening. He’d let himself do it. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself sink so deeply. It was one thing to lust after the Slayer. It was an entirely different thing to fall in love with her. His dream had told him the truth. He’d fallen in love with Buffy. If the demon world found out about this, he’d be nothing but sod on the pavement. He prepared to shove his shirt into his duster pocket, when the wind blew, and a heady scent set off the neon light in Spike’s mind that was marked BUFFY. He looked down, scrutinizing the ‘scrap of lace’ he’d pulled off of her. A plain white halter-top. He’d been so distracted that he’d grabbed her shirt by mistake and left his own on the floor of her room. He nodded slowly, then sighed. Then let out a frustrated growl. He got up and stormed down the road, both disgusted and confused by his strange reactions to a love that broke all the rules three times over. He growled in fury, a perplexed look in his eyes. "I need to kill something," he muttered, ducking into the nearest cemetery. Stupid fucking entities. Why couldn’t the miserable buggers just leave him be? Eight days. Eight miserable days, and not one single glimpse of her. She hadn’t let him come near her in eight miserable, awful days. He was dying. Everyone had even taken Giles' words to heart. No one was helping him get to Buffy, because as the Watcher had said, "There is no way to Buffy." God, all he wanted to do was to apologize. If she would just let him near her to do so! "Fine," he muttered. When he hadn’t been out trying to get close to her, he’d been holed up in his apartment. No one had been able to contact him – he refused to talk to even Graham. He pulled his boots on, grabbed his gun belt, slid it on and pulled his vest over it. "If she won’t let me see her, I’ll just have to –" he cocked his gun and set the safety, "—force my way in." Sliding the gun into its holster, he grabbed his keys and walked out. It didn’t take long to get to her house – he could’ve taken his Jeep but, well, he hadn’t. He’d been on foot, and most of the way to Buffy’s, he’d been running. He arrived just in time to see her taking off for the cemetery with a purpose. Thinking it better if he didn’t call out a very temperamental Slayer’s name, he followed quickly and quietly. Now was not the time to be knocked on his ass by a very pissed girlfriend. Although by the end of this night, he most likely would be. TBC...

Chapter #5 - illusions of the mind

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part V... .:illusions of the mind.:. She just needed someone to talk to. It had nothing to do with the way he’d been with her last week. Nothing to do with how sweet and gentle and kind he’d been. Nothing at all with how he possibly could have taken full advantage of her, fucked her to death, drained all her blood and left her for dead, but chose not to at the last minute and instead climbed out her window. Nope, nothing at all. Totally innocent. Ugh. It was getting extremely hard to put Spike in the same group she reserved for people like... Quentin Travers. And Ethan Rayne. Especially when he seemed to be playing the part of a bad puppy with a good streak. Heh. He would kill her in an instant if he ever heard her say that out loud, and she damn well knew it. The thought still made her grin involuntarily. Spike the wonder pup! Now THAT was a major funny. Well, anyway, she had to get some things off her chest. She was to be due at the Magic Box’s brand new training room – courtesy of Giles and Xander (and it was really a miracle that the Magic Box Owner’s Curse hadn’t yet fallen on him - of course, he'd only owned the store for a little less than two weeks) -- in an hour for a round of sparring with Giles. But it wouldn’t hurt to stop by to just... check on Spike. She hadn’t seen him since their mini rendezvous the week before and it was starting to grate on her nerves. O-kay, so she was going mad. She just could not understand what was going on. The world was starting to crash down around her. Not for the first time, but it had already passed the way-too-many-times-to-count mark. Riley was nothing more than a completely annoying hassle anymore. Mom had just recently had some sort of sick spell. It had come out of nowhere, and she just couldn’t understand it. Something was wrong with her mommy... and it scared Buffy. Really, really scared her. And on top of it, Dawn wasn’t real. She had performed a spell to see if anything magical was attacking Joyce– a very useful Willow suggestion – and everything had been in a daze. Everything had been real, had felt normal. But pictures of her family had confused her, Dawn’s bright, happy image flashing in and out eerily. She’d passed by Dawn’s room – a room that also flashed in and out of focus. The room wasn’t really Dawn’s. It was filled with cardboard boxes, belonging to her mother. And then there was Dawn herself. Dawn was flashy, too. So who was it that was screwing around with her family now? Monks. And how did she know this for certain? Well... after she'd made a fool of herself, hurt Dawn, and made her not-really-there sister cry, she'd followed her nose to a warehouse-type setting, was attacked by a blonde bitch with a really bad perm who was strong in the "really" sort of way, and was told by a monk that her innocent little sister was actually a mystical Key that didn't really exist. Her sweet, beautiful, annoying pain in the ass sister wasn’t real. Nothing that was remotely associated with Dawn was real. So if Dawn wasn’t real, then why in the hell was she here? Because the monks knew of her calling. Had created Dawn from Buffy's own blood - and how had they managed that, anyway? Buffy didn't just bleed for anyone, after all... well, except for the few times when someone had caught her off guard, anyway - and then zapped her into Sunnydale and into Buffy's life so seamlessly that it really was like Dawn had always been there. That dead order of monks that had been screwing around with her – and the whole damn town, apparently -- had done a damn good job. Nobody else realized that her "sister" was just a little bit different than was passing for regular in Sunnydale. Even Spike hadn't been able to tell. Which was odd, since he was a supernatural presence, and should’ve been able to detect other supernatural presences. For Christ’s sake, she herself was the Slayer, and Spike could probably scent her from the other freaking side of California. Why was that? She could wait until she got to the shop. But she didn’t want to risk letting the others know. Xander tended to have a big mouth, and would blurt it within a five to ten minute time span. Willow... Well, Willow was good with the secret keeping. Sometimes. She winced as she remembered several times before when Willow’s extra-hyper ‘I-know-nothing-see-nothing-hear-nothing’ attitude with secrets tended to become part of the ‘I-know-and-I-wanna-tell-but-I-can’t-tell-and-oh-god-I-can’t-keep-it-to-myself-anymore!’ variety. Since Anya couldn't even keep her mouth shut about her and Xander's sex life, she could not be trusted to keep her mouth shut and that was final. And she didn’t have anything against Tara, really. She just didn’t know her all that well, but Buffy assumed that since Willow and Tara were usually in on everything together, if Buffy were to confide in Tara, the taller blonde would probably tell her girlfriend as well. Riley was absolutely out of the question. So that left Giles. And Spike. She didn’t know what it was, but something made her feel like she could trust him. She stopped for a second, inquiring the annoyance that was Buffy’s Life. She stomped her foot. "Dammit! It was so much easier when he hated me!" It was too hard. She was just going to have to tell him to leave her alone again. The feelings he’d invoked in her the other night were still shrouding her, and making her dizzy. If Spike would just leave her alone, then she wouldn’t feel so damn confused, and needy, and fluffy, and stupid, and so damn girly, and Jesus H. Christ what the hell was wrong with her? Ugh! "Okay. This is silly. I am not nervous about seeing Spike! I’ll just... go to his crypt and talk to him about Dawn. I’ll tell him to leave me alone. And then I’ll go. Far away. Very... very fast." She turned in the direction of the crypt and took a deep breath. "I can do this. I can go. Now. Now. Go NOW." Her legs refused to budge. She gritted her teeth. Must move legs. Must move NOW. Move, legs, move! She forced one leg forward, then the other. And finally she started to move. And once she started to move, she found that she couldn’t stop. Her legs acquired a mind of their own, leading her nonstop to Spike’s home. She grumbled. It figured. Looking up at the sky, she threw her hands up. "Why me?" Spike’s eyes glittered excitedly as a young minion rushed toward him, trying to look (snort) dangerous. The elder vampire grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, raising his knee and slamming the fledgling’s face into it so brutally that it broke the twit’s nose and shattered his teeth. Spike chuckled to himself, his entire being practically glowing with malice. Hmph. Too bad vamps can’t get dental plans. It’ll take this one at least a week to heal. The minion groaned and threw a weak punch, and Spike jumped back, one leg whizzing through the air and knocking the fledgy in the head. The force of impact sent him flying right into a gravestone, cracking his head open, and Spike pounced, stabbing the twerp with gusto. Or not. He grunted and rubbed his nose, wiping himself off from the moron dust before it decided to infect him. Then he hit the ground as another little toad attempted a weak sneak attack on him, jumping off from the top of a mausoleum. Christ, another few inches to the right, and the dunce might’ve actually gotten him. But he hadn’t. Spike stood up, grinning insanely. Thank god. He’d been hoping that the fight wasn’t over. He’d needed this. He’d really needed this. He had to take his damn aggravations out on something, after all. Too many annoying things had been going on since last week, and it was really making him hate the world. FUCK the world... well, no. None of the Happy Meals deserved that. Much. No, better yet, fuck Buffy. This ensured very bad, naughty and thought-provoking terminology, but it got the point through. She was driving him batty, and he hadn’t even seen her since the Watcher had opened his store! Well, he supposed it was better him seeing her than that prick of a boyfriend of hers – Buffy had kept Riley away at the distance of a one-hundred foot pole for the past week or so, while Spike had felt like a damn ping-pong ball, bouncing between his crypt and the house on Revello. And when he wasn’t watching her sleep through her window, he was daydreaming about her in the crypt. She was always on his damn mind. This could NOT continue. Pfft. Yeah. Because William the lovesick fool would quit just because Spike threatened him. On top of that, White Bread had been snooping around in his crypt. Prolly lookin' for a scrap of the Slayer's unmentionables, Spike thought now, his grin widening and giving him a truly psychotic quality that Dru had never had. He’d instantly recognized that repulsive woodsy, outdoors-y scent when he’d entered the crypt yesterday (he’d been out and about Sunnydale, fighting the "good" fight and nicking a few packs of ciggies – you know, the usual). And he’d literally had to dig his fingers into the walls to keep himself calm. Jesus, he was gonna hafta smoke up a hell of a storm to get rid of that nasty-ass smell. BUT... he decided not to go kill the git. Mainly because he still had bouncy, happy, giddy thoughts dancing around in his brain of Riley bursting into the crypt only to find Buffy in Spike’s arms in the throes of passion. And, even better, he was praying that it would eventually culminate into one bitchin’ fight. That’d teach the little schoolboy to mess with Big Bad. And it was really – really – fun to torture him. Now would be a real good time to practice. The nit’s face transformed into Riley’s and Spike abruptly snapped. He dove onto the vampire and proceeded to beat the un-living shit out of him. Fledgy never knew what hit him. Buffy had heard the sounds of a fight from a long way’s back and, really, it only figured that it was occurring in Spike’s area of the burial grounds. She raced over and stopped short, staring at the spectacle presented before her. Wow... He’s really whaling on that vamp. ...Yeah. He really was. Spike was visiting nearly every single physical torture that he’d been taught as a fledgling by Drusilla and Angelus. All except the very one that had given him his name. The vampire he was utterly destroying couldn’t have been more than a week old, and was enduring a huge amount of torture. He wasn't faring very well. From what Buffy could see, the newbie’s nose was broken, and there was a sharp, jagged slice right down the center of his forehead about an inch and a half long. Several teeth had been broken, and the thing’s borrowed blood was gushing out of every single injury. It was limply cradling its hand, and it looked like Spike had actually broken – no, shattered it. She winced as Spike began to ram the vampire’s head into a large, wide gravestone. Repeatedly. By the time he let up, there was nothing vaguely recognizable about it. Baby Vamp’s face was nothing more than a mushy mess of bone, blood, and flesh, and he was nearing unconsciousness. It nauseated her. Not to say that Buffy didn’t enjoy the hunt. She loved it, and she loved the fighting, but that was as far as it went. She wasn’t absolutely brutal about it... she wasn't Faith. On the first open shot she got, Buffy would dust the sucker. She fought when she had to, and she dusted as was necessary. She did her duty. But Spike had tortured this little piss, and he’d enjoyed every blood-soaked minute of it. Spike jerked the minion upwards and prepped himself to torture the little prick more, an insane grin plastered on to his lips, blood splattered on his face. Okay. This was bad. And disturbing, but really, really bad. Even Buffy had her limits when it came to stinky, smelly, stupid little vamps. She waited until Spike stepped back to kick him before she grasped a stake she’d brought with her, and chucked it with perfect precision into the younger vampire. Poof. Bye-bye. Spike did a double take, then looked in Buffy’s direction, before grunting and rolling his eyes. "Well ruin my fun. You can come out now, Summers." Buffy carefully crept out from behind the bushes, feeling extremely weary around the Master vampire. What the hell was I thinking? she thought. Not even a minute ago, she’d been worried that as soon as she saw him, she'd pounce on him and fuck him to death! But now, after what she’d just seen him do, she’d come to her senses. This guy was a vampire, a killer. He enjoyed it. And she’d been ready to rape him? Ewwww... She folded her arms, a look of disgust on her face. "What the hell was that? Why didn’t you just dust him? Why’d you hafta abuse him?" she asked. Spike rolled his eyes and glared at her before turning away, lighting up a Doral (one of his many nicked ciggy packs). Yeah, NOW the bitch gets self-righteous. When he turned back, Buffy was right next to him, reaching up and grabbing the cigarette right out of his mouth. Spike sputtered in surprise, trying to snatch it back. "Hey! Give it! Buffy, give it! Damn you, bitch, give it back!" It fell to the ground, meeting an extinguished end underneath Buffy’s very thick black heel. Spike exploded and dove on her angrily, knocking her to the ground. Buffy let out a surprised yelp and wriggled around, trying to get away. "You stupid bitch, why the fuck did you do that?!" he howled. Wait, what the fuck? Why was he so mad? It was just one fucking cigarette, and he had plenty more packs at home! As soon as this clicked, he stopped, which gave Buffy a clear shot. She bucked him up and kicked him three feet away before hopping to her feet. Walking toward him, she kicked him in the side, making him groan and roll onto his back. She watched him solemnly as she pinned his arms down, straddling his waist and sitting on him. Spike whined, growled, hissed and struggled under her, trying to wrench his arms out of her grasp. Damn it, he kept forgetting – he was the Slayer of two Slayers. He’d bested two of them, but it sure as hell didn’t mean that he was stronger than them. There was a reason that he hadn't beaten Buffy after all the times he'd tried. "Lemme go, dammit! Leggo! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" he griped, finally flopping back and glaring at her, his lower lip jutting out in a sullen pout. Buffy drew out another stake, one that she’d hidden under her jacket, and brought it slowly to his chest, pressing the sharp point gently against his heart. Spike gulped hard, a real fear flickering in his eyes as the point of the stake lightly poked through his black T-shirt and pricked his skin. "Now listen to me," she started quietly. "Listen to me good. I have to talk to you. I need to tell you something about Dawn. Don’t ask me why I feel the need to tell you of all people, but I do, so you’re gonna shut your hole and listen." Spike frowned, his head tilting to the side. Then he realized that this was just Buffy’s way of calming him down. She wasn’t gonna stake him. Well thank bloody god. He’d thought that the claim had malfunctioned. She took the stake away gingerly, but didn’t move otherwise – because honestly, she really liked the position she was in. Spike sat up carefully, leaning back on his elbows. He stared up at her curiously. He didn’t mind this position either. He sensed her need to be serious, though, and figured he could somehow manage to keep his beast-y hormones in check. There would be no flipping of Buffy and no fucking her into oblivion. Yet. Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair. She closed her eyes, then reopened them and looked earnestly at Spike. "I don't know much about the world outside of Sunnydale. In fact, I've lived here for years, and I still don't know all there is to know about Sunnydale. But one thing I have to be familiar with is the supernatural. And the supernatural aspect is killing me, because it doesn't just affect my friends... it affects my family. What I'm trying to say... is that Dawn’s not real." Spike’s eyebrows shot upwards and he reacted with confusion. "Bitty isn’t real? Whassat mean?" "It means I did a spell. A spell to reveal if something magical was attacking Mom. And instead, I discovered that my sister is made of magic." Spike stared at her in disbelief, utterly stunned. "Jesus... Any of the Scoobies know?" Buffy shook her head. "Just you and Giles." Spike scowled. "Take that back! I am NOT a bloody Scooby!" His indignant reaction made her laugh. "Fine, then. Just Giles. I don’t know, I don’t trust the others to keep it quiet." Spike chuckled and relaxed, laying back and folding his arms behind his head. "I take it you're thinkin' of the whelp an' his demon bird, then? What about Red, an’, uh... Tara, is it?" Buffy shrugged. "Willow isn’t exactly secret-keeping competent. And I have nothing against Tara. I just don’t know her that well." Spike smirked. "An’ Cabbage for Brains?" Buffy giggled, instantly knowing he was speaking of Riley. "I haven’t even seen him since the last time he tried to talk to me. And I get this weird feeling that he was only nice to Dawn for my sake." Spike grunted. "Nonsense. The bit's a little baffling when you first meet her, but she grows on ya. She's sweet an' peppy enough to cheer anyone up, anyway." Buffy grinned down at him. "We are both talking about the same Dawn Summers, right? The one that spills various liquids on my favorite pants, or steals my clothes when she thinks I won't notice them missing?" Spike was quiet for a moment, smiling up at her. His brain had gone on leave, and he’d barely heard what she’d just said; this position was getting to him... "Y’know... you look awful lovely up there, pet," he purred. When he’d sat up, Buffy had slid down onto his hips, and Spike’s entire, ahem, anatomy was sick of keeping its immediate reaction under wraps. So to speak. Buffy's grin disappeared and she froze completely as she finally noticed the rising hardness against the inside of her thigh. Quickly, she stood up and bolted away like a frightened colt. I will not be turned on, I will not be turned on... There will be no turning on of me by the evil blood-sucking demon! "No, Spike, don’t even start! That’s the other reason I came to see you. I want you to stay away from me. Don’t touch me, don’t tease me, don’t mess with my head, just back off and let me be. Leave me alone." She ignored the constriction inside her chest and the warning twinge that ran down her spine at her words. Spike slowly stood up and smirked. "Right. Like you really want that." Buffy frowned. "I do!" she whined. Spike rolled his eyes and made as if to stomp away. When Buffy reacted, taking a step forward to follow, Spike spun and grabbed her arm, flinging her against the wall of his crypt. Following quickly, he pressed himself up against her, his hardened cock pressing right into her stomach. Buffy drew a sharp breath, her head dropping back against the wall. She bit her lower lip and refused to close her eyes, watching him wearily. He ran a hand from her hip up slowly to a soft, small breast, squeezing gently, then a little harder when Buffy whimpered. Leaning against her, his lips pressed to her ear, he murmured, "You sure about that, pet?" Pulling away, he gave her a knowing look before rounding the corner and walking into his home. Buffy watched him move away from her, and growled in anger, stomping her foot. Damn it! Why did she keep letting him do that? She flung herself after him, kicking down his door. Something about that entire encounter made him tense. Buffy had looked upset, then happy, then upset, and now she was angry. Holy shit, he thought, as he saw his girlfriend literally kick open the door to Spike’s crypt. He felt giddy. She was finally going to kill him! As he expected, the sounds of a very loud fight began to echo back and forth across the cemetery, Buffy shouting obscenities, (Buffy knew obscenities?) and Spike shouting them right back (Spike knew... actually, that was nothing new.) He’d nearly been ready to run over to Spike and bury a stake in the vampire’s back when he’d seen him press against Buffy, fondling her. The odd thing about it was that Buffy hadn’t done anything to stop him (well, she hadn’t right then. She was more than making up for it now, he supposed). When he’d been following her, he’d gotten the hint that Buffy was coming to see Spike, and he’d seen that odd little exchange when Buffy had taken Spike’s cigarette. When Buffy had straddled the vamp and held the stake to his chest, Riley had been praying with all his heart that she would finally kill the stupid piece of scum, but then she’d taken it away and had just sat there. On top of him. Riley shuddered at the image. He’d realized that they were talking by the hand motions and the jerking-of-heads they kept making, but he couldn’t hear one word of the conversation. Apparently, though, Spike had said something that Buffy didn’t like because she jumped up and away from him. And after another short exchange, Spike had thrown her against his crypt, acting very depraved. He snapped out of his little reverie when he heard Spike let out a startled yell. Dammit! He was missing all the fun! This wasn’t usually the way he got his rocks off, but he was gonna take what he could get. Buffy was on top of him, hitting him in the face, chest, and anywhere else she found would cause him pain, except... He’d noticed she’d steered plenty clear of one – big – happy spot. He cupped her ass and flipped her over, shoving her against the dusty floor, aiming a punch at the side of her head. Buffy jerked at the blow and sat up between his legs, pushing him onto his back. Looking down at him, she smiled. Yeah... she could get used to this position. She crawled up his body like a cat and sat bluntly on his chest, rising up with each useless breath he took. She was trying incredibly hard to keep herself under control, but ye gods, she was horny as hell now. What she wanted was to just rub herself all over him, make him moan and squirm a little (more) and forget about everything that had been plaguing her. But she couldn’t do that. It was wrong. Spike noticed her distraction and took the open opportunity to roll her over onto her back. Sliding up, he pressed himself against her and his hips gave their own involuntary thrust. He could smell her desire – even if she didn’t realize it – and it was driving him crazy. Before he could dive down on her, Buffy kicked him off again and jumped up, grinning wickedly. Spike’s breath caught and he licked his lips. Christ, did she have any idea of just how sexy she was with that look on her face? Buffy administered a full spin, kicking him right in the center of his chest, then leapt on him, hooking her legs around his waist. She gave him a sharp uppercut to the jaw, and Spike growled, acknowledging the slight pain before he jerked her against him and shoved her to a wall, kissing her fiercely. Buffy responded in kind, thrusting her warm wet tongue into his mouth. All too quickly, though, she jerked away, and it was back to business, hitting him and causing him much pain. Spike dropped her to the ground and backhanded her roughly, as ecstatic as he could be that he was able to fight the Slayer again, and not just take her punishing hits. Dropping to the ground, he stuck a leg out and spun, making an attempt to bring her down, but his leg met with empty air as Buffy had jumped up when she saw his intent. Pouncing on him, she kneed him in the ribs, then – in a rather bold move for her – reached down to grasp him outside his pants, squeezing almost painfully. Spike let out a startled cry and arched up, thrusting once into her hand. Buffy leapt on him, shoving her lips to his in a brutal kiss, biting his lower lip and making him cry out for joy. "Minx!" he gasped, eyes flashing delightedly. He growled and rolled them over again, grasping at her shirt and trying to tear it off. He needed to see more of her, needed to feel more of her. But Buffy apparently didn’t want that. She jerked away from him and lashed out, smashing her fist into his nose. She obviously wanted to continue the fight. Maybe that was just how she got off. On one hand, he was getting frustrated. He wanted to shove her down, rip her clothes off and fuck her to death. But on the other, he was ecstatic. Human. Animal. Equal. In every way. Just like him. God, he wanted her. Grabbing her by the front of her lacy peasant-style shirt, he lifted her up, then tossed her like a rag doll across the crypt. Buffy cried out from the impact of her back against the wall, but recovered quickly, and came back just as hard. Her hits were merciless, unrelenting, vicious, bloodthirsty, always accurate, always landing exactly where she wanted them. Spike was equally brutal, equally vicious. The first time he’d fought with Buffy, the first time he’d seen her moves, he’d been hooked. He couldn’t get enough. But now it was something new. He wanted to fight her, always wanted to fight her. Hell, he’d always wanted to fuck her, too. Now... Now, he wanted to love her. Wasn’t there some big cosmic rule somewhere up there stating that this was bad? Oh, god, who cared? He thrust his leg out and kicked her behind the knees, sending her to the ground. Buffy grabbed his own legs and shoved him back, making him fly right into the wall. Getting up, she ran for him, leaping on to him once again, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Spike cried out softly as he felt her thighs squeeze around his middle, so hard that his ribs were nearly cracking. Stabilizing herself with one hand on his shoulder, and one leg around his waist, she came at him with a one-two hit that involved a punch to the jaw and a swift kick to the head. Spike, for all the dizziness he was feeling from the punches, still managed to right himself and grabbed her leg in mid-air, sweeping his large hand down from the calf to the thigh. Buffy stared at him, refusing to let any emotion whatsoever appear on her face, nearly biting her tongue in two when Spike’s hand drifted down between her legs. His hand gently brushed over the hinge of her inner thigh, stroking slowly before allowing his fingers to settle right at her jean-clad clit. He pressed his thumb against it and Buffy’s hand suddenly shot out, grabbing the back of his head. Her lips came down on his, sucking, licking and kissing fervently. Her tongue slid along his lower lip teasingly before plunging into his mouth, and Spike groaned, hiking her up in his arms. Stumbling across the crypt, he made an attempt to find the big stone slab he napped on and, giving up, finally just drew her to the ground. Almost instantly, Buffy rolled on top of him, her kisses becoming fierce and nearly savage. Spike growled, and Buffy’s anxious motions stilled. She pulled away and looked at him. Spike snarled softly. He wanted this girl. He wanted her more than anything, and god damn it, he was going to have her. He thirsted for her. Now or never, mate, his demon growled. Spike grabbed the back of the Slayer’s head. Peering into her eyes, he slid into game face and opened his mouth. Buffy stared at him, licking her lips anxiously. She made no attempt to get away. Is that the claim, or is it her? he wondered silently. Either way... He pulled her down and gently sank his teeth into her neck. Buffy let out a small whimper, clinging to him tightly. Spike rolled them over, landing on top, and slowly began to grind into her, his hands tracing a pattern across her body. Buffy moaned, her hands reaching up to stroke his hair. "Oh, god," she whimpered. Spike hardened even more, and let out a purr, which came out garbled through the blood in his mouth. Swallowing, he pulled away for a moment, licking her wounds, then put his lips against her ear, licking at her ear lobe. "Mine," his voice rumbled contentedly, and Buffy felt a spark shoot through her body. All at once, she realized what had happened back at the doctor’s office. She understood it all. And she grinned. She grabbed his head and pulled it back down to her bite marks, a silent invitation to drink more. Oh, she knew what he was hoping for. She fully realized that he’d claimed her. But he’d teased her mercilessly. And she wasn’t exactly content to sit back and let him gloat around to everyone that he owned her. Because he didn’t. Her smile grew as Spike hungrily drank from her. She was so gonna make him wait. Riley watched in horror at the scene before him. A random thought occurred in his head. If he’s such a great hunter, then why hasn’t he sensed me, yet? The answer? Because his Buffy was busy blowing Spike's mind away. He thought he’d faint the second he saw Buffy smile at the vampire and bring his face back to her neck. And he’d heard the whispered claim. Oh, shit, not good, not good, this was not fucking good. He turned on his heel and raced toward the Magic Box. He knew, better than anyone else, how much the Scoobies (except for Buffy’s sister) hated Spike. Maybe once they heard about this, they’d accept him again and finally put the damn vampire out of their misery. Contrary to what everyone (apparently) thought, he knew quite a bit about vampires. Through Giles’ study sessions, and Maggie Walsh’s intense analyzations, he’d heard quite a bit about vampire rituals. The vamping processes, the claims, thralls, et cetera. And he was judging that Giles knew a helluva lot more about it than he did. He had to get to the shop, fast. Buffy’s life was in danger! Spike purred softly, nuzzling into his former enemy. No, he hadn’t fucked her. In that short amount of time? Pfft, yeah right. Spike was proud to say that he had about five times the stamina of a regular vampire. He used to have Drusilla to please, after all. No, at the moment, he was curled against Buffy's warm body, his arms around her waist, a hand gently stroking her abdomen, his face butting gently into her neck like a cat begging to be pet. Buffy in turn was nothing short of bewildered but she looked contemplative. What the fuck was he doing? Spike looked up and observed her. "You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?" he asked, his voice a soft deep rumble, echoing in the crypt. Buffy stared at him, thinking, her head tilted to the side. "I know," she replied wearily. This was too fucking weird. She was curled up on the floor, her former enemy in her arms... the one who’d been looking for her blood since the moment he’d met her. Well, he had her blood now. But she wasn’t dead. And now he was lying here, telling her that he would never hurt her. Buffy mentally groaned. Oh, no, my life isn't strange. Nothing strange about it at all... She’d pleaded with him to stop drinking the second she’d felt herself becoming weak. He’d complied, albeit a little reluctantly. What exactly was it about her blood that made everyone want to drink her? Anyway, that was what had surprised her. Spike had stopped, and she hadn’t had to bash him over the head with a really big heavy object to get him off of her. He’d had complete control of himself. Not like Angel. She looked over at him. She had to make sure. "Have you killed anyone?" Spike lifted his eyebrows. He was genuinely surprised. Hadn’t he told her that night back in her room that she’d made him... ahem, impotent, once again? He hadn’t made an attempt to kill after that. He’d still been attacking demons and vampires and such. Once a traitor, always a traitor, he thought with a sigh. "No, pet. I told you I couldn’t. I haven’t even tried since that little rank bitch popped up, looking like you an’ all." He tilted his head and looked at her. "It is all your fault, y’know. I’m the saddest excuse for a vampire ever there was." Buffy snorted. "Yeah, I’m so sure it’s my fault that you can’t kill." She paused. "Oh... so... you want to kill?" He sighed. "I’m a vampire. ’S in my nature. Y’know, havin’ to satisfy the demon, all that rot." Buffy looked queasy. "Oh come on, then! You’re not gonna let that spoil it all, are you? At least I don’t wanna kill you!" Buffy scowled and jerked away from him. "Oh, yeah, so that makes it all okay? You don’t want to kill me, but you still want to kill other humans? Yeah, Spike, that makes it all better! Go on, wreak havoc, kill people, just as long as you let the Slayer live. She has to allow that!" Spike stood up quickly, scowling. "Oh, sod off, Slayer. You act as if this is new, like you never realized this before! If you paid some attention, you’d realize that me, evil vampire," he pointed at himself, "does not wanna kill you, goody-goody vampire Slayer," he pointed at her, "an’ that in itself is a huge bloody step up from where we were last year!" Buffy folded her arms, silently fuming at him. "Am I supposed to be impressed, then? Ooh, Spike doesn’t wanna kill me. I think I’ll give him a cookie!" She shook her head, starting to pace. "You know, you are one amazing vampire. You have such gall sometimes, and I can’t believe that I’m still putting up with you, when I really should have killed you the second you came back. Again." Spike growled. "Well, it was soddin’ Harmony! What with her destroying my brain cells with her talkin’... All her ‘Spikey, I need to eat, take me out to eat, treat my like a soddin’ material-y mother fuckin’ princess,’ YOU never would’ve even fuckin’ known I was back, an’ I coulda killed you an’ be done with it!" She managed the most disgusted Look to cover up the sting she’d felt. "I almost fell for that ridiculous act! I can’t believe I was so stupid! You are so easily fucking readable, and I’m amazed that I actually let you get away with what you’ve been doing to me lately! I know you claimed me, but don’t fucking think it means anything. I’m NOT yours. I never was. I never will be. This... thing you put on me, it’s gonna wear off, and the second it does, you can kiss your stupid ass good-bye!" She watched as Spike's eyes clouded over with hurt before unbridled rage replaced it. He stomped over to her and grasped the back of her head, twining his fingers through her soft blonde locks and shoving her head back. "I wouldn’t be talking to me like that if I were you, pet. After all, like you said, I’ve claimed you. An’ whether you think so or not, you are mine. I could play with you like a cat with a mouse for hours, or I could just kill you straight off. Your life is pretty much in my hands, an’ bein’ your endearin’, Almighty-Bitch self ain’t gonna help your odds any." Maybe it was the cold deadly glare in his stony blue eyes that made her want to back down. But to be truthful, Buffy was about as bull-headed as Spike himself was, so having a glaring match with Spike for dominance wasn’t going to help things much. She leaned forward, making as if to kiss him, and when his face got close enough, she head-butted him, sending his head jerking back as a roar ripped out of his throat. Letting go of her, he jerked his arm back and hauled off, sending a sharp, punishing blow across her face. Leaping up, he kicked her in the head with one heavy, boot-clad foot, knocking her to the ground. Buffy let out a sharp cry when she hit the floor, but had enough sense in her still to roll out of the way when Spike reached for her again. No, wait... no... Damn that stupid vampiric speed. Spike caught her, picked her up around the waist and threw her against the wall. Buffy stumbled and let out a soft, low moan of pain. A patch of skin at her forehead had broken open, and now she was bleeding. The dark crimson trickled down her forehead and started to blur her vision as it seeped over her eyelids. She wiped it away impatiently and looked up, just in time to catch the panic-stricken stare on Spike's face. She tilted her head a little in confusion. Just a second ago he’d been ready to kill her. And now he was wigged that he’d made her bleed, by throwing her into a wall. God. Hot and cold much, Spike? Well, anyway, the look was gone now, and Buffy was struggling to get up. She looked down at her blood-smeared hand, then up at the one who’d caused it. Now she was pissed. Spike let out a strangled grunt as Buffy threw herself at him, beating him anywhere and everywhere, leaving no part of his body unharmed by her hands. Okay, so throwing her into the wall had been a little much, but she had pissed him off! It had been a natural fighting reaction; that was all. Buffy’s fists were coming in rapid succession now, one after the other, aiming at different sections of his face. He could feel his left eye swelling, and blood was dripping down from the lip that she’d managed to split four times in four different parts. Yeah, he could safely say that he’d goofed. No, wait. Why the hell was he letting her hit him? He could damn well defend himself at least. Didn’t fucking matter if this prissy little bitch was pissed at what he’d done. She only had one little injury by him, but now he had several by her hands. He was the Big Bad, god damn it, and he was not about to let a prudish stuck-up bitch like Buffy forget that. Throwing her off of him, he grabbed her by her hair and hauled her over to the sarcophagus, a deep, resonating warning growl emanating from his chest and past his lips. He watched as she attempted to stand her own, but he caught the flinch that was nothing but two-twentieths of a second and imperceptible to the human eye. Good. She knew who was boss. His fingers tangled in her long blonde curls, his hand still clutching the back of her head, he snarled, "I told you to watch what you did around me. You never did take orders well, did you, luv?" Buffy growled and struggled against him, trying to get him to loosen the death grip on her hair – it was starting to hurt! Spike chuckled, entirely amused by her attempt at resistance. Shaking his head, he punched her again before jerking her head up to meet his. Perhaps he was a little too pleased by that pained yelp she let out. "I told you, pet. Your life is essentially in my hands. An’ if I were you, I’d get my act together, an’ treat me with some respect. But since you don’t seem to wanna do that, methinks ‘m gonna have to punish you." Buffy looked up into Spike’s blue eyes, which had changed from a teasing, sparkling cerulean to an angry, deep, churning navy. And maybe, for the first time since she met the peroxide blonde, Buffy was scared of him. Way to go, Buff. Care to piss off any more master vampires while you’re at it? Let’s call Angel up, shall we? Or how about Drac? We’ll have a fucking party! Desperation tended to make her have Stupid Thoughts. Calling up Angel was definitely not the way to go, and summoning Dracula up was most certainly a big no-no. Was this another one of her ‘open mouth, insert foot’ moments? She snuck another peek at Spike’s extremely brassed-off baby blues. That was a definite yes. Oops. TBC. Thanks so much for your reviews, guys ^_^ Keep 'em coming, please!

Chapter #6 - whoever said...

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part VI... .:whoever said "the truth will set you free" never met buffy:. They had to listen. They positively had to. If anything else, even though he wasn’t on their good side right now, he knew how they all felt about Spike. Unless they were all completely stupid, they would most definitely take his side against an evil soulless bloodsucking monster. He lunged for the door of the Magic Box, only to find it locked. Right. Store hours were from eight to nine on weekdays, and after hours were Scooby meeting times. Of course the door would be locked. He anxiously pounded on it, and after a brief hesitation, the door opened a crack. When he looked through, he saw a pair of cornflower blue eyes peering out at him. "Hello, Riley," Anya said with a tight, forced smile on her face. "You aren’t welcome here. Please leave now." She began to close the door but Riley stuck a foot in, stopping her. "No! No, Anya, you’ve gotta let me in, I’ve got to tell you guys something!" Without thinking, he shoved Anya to the side as he pushed the door open. In the back he could see Giles, Dawn, and Xander getting up from their seats, and a shock of red and strawberry blonde told him that Willow and Tara were there as well. Yay. The gang's all here. Xander frowned, pushing his way to the front of the store while Anya shot a disdainful glare at the big idiot commando, rubbing her arm. "You don’t have to be rude. And I believe that when someone means to shut a door in your face, it’s implied that you are not wanted in that general area. I attempted that, and you shoved me, so I insist that you –" "Buffy’s in danger!" he blurted out. In under a second, everyone in the shop had shot up front, surrounding him. Giles appeared to be the calmest of the group when he began to speak, but it was apparent from the outright panic on his face that he was faking it. "What do you mean she’s in danger?" he demanded. "What’s happened?" Riley swallowed. "She’s at Spike’s –" and a collective sigh of near-relief that went up had his jaw dropping. They were okay with her being at Spike's? Goddamn it, he knew they were all fucking insane. But no, he put up with them for Buffy's sake, because they were Buffy's very best friends since high school, and everything else she'd ever been through, and blah blah blah... "You’re worried about her being with Spike? Geez, frantic much? She can take care of herself, Cardboard Boy," Dawn snarked. Dawn didn't hate Riley - on the contrary, she'd thought he was the first decent boyfriend that Buffy had ever had. He'd taken her out for ice cream a few times, even. But that had been before he and Buffy had gotten really serious. It was like, as soon as he realized that he was already in Buffy's good graces, he didn't need to try with her family anymore. He was always polite to Mom, but he never stopped and talked with her for hours, the way Spike did. Wasn't that what a boyfriend was supposed to do? Honor and cherish his girlfriend's mother? Either way, Riley had lost any affection from Dawn long ago, when he had started monopolizing her sister. Riley shook his head, staring dumbfounded at Dawn. Quickly, he said, "No, you don’t understand, listen to me. I was going to your house... to apologize, but she was leaving as I got there, so I followed her -–" "Ew, you followed her? Gotta tell you, Riley-boy, not liking the Stalker-Guy chic that you’ve picked up here," Xander chuckled, wrapping an arm tightly around Anya’s shoulders. Riley shot him a frustrated glance. "That’s not the... Can I finish here, please?" At their silence, which was accompanied by expectant (and hostile) stares – Willow was really going to have to ease up on the protective best friend bit – he continued. "Anyway, I followed her, and yeah, she went to Spike’s. Well, they had their usual fight and everything, but then they went into his crypt, and when I got to the door, he was on top of her, with his teeth in her neck. She didn’t fight him or anything, and then... Guys, Spike claimed Buffy." Giles’ jaw nearly hit the floor. "Good Lord, he’s what?" Riley looked exasperated. "He’s claimed her!" The four non-supernatural experts in the room gaped at the Watcher and Riley. Riley stared at them. "Do you have any idea what that means?" When the silence dragged on, Anya piped up. "It means he owns her!" she declared excitedly. Xander, Willow, Tara and Dawn stared at her. "WHAT?" was the only word out of their mouths, and in perfect unison as well. If this hadn’t been such a crucial situation, Riley might’ve laughed. The Scoobies were vaguely familiar with vampire rites and rituals, but obviously not as well as their very own ex-demon was. She was all too happy to explain. "Spike drank some of Buffy’s blood and placed a claim on her, which none of her other vampires have done, specifically, not Angel. Vampires don’t usually bother putting claims on humans since they just hunt and eat them, but since Spike seems to be extra fond of Buffy in the way that means plenty of orgasms for the both of them," -- Riley began sputtering in fury before Anya continued to talk over him, this time quite loudly -- "it looks like he wants to keep her all for himself. All in all, the claim pretty much means that Spike can sense if anyone touches or harms his property, i.e. Buffy. It protects her from other vampires that might want to kill her, and it connects him to her thoughts and emotions. Like, say a vampire attacks her and gets the upper hand, and goes to bite her. Well, he can’t, because Spike put his mark on her, claimed her. And Spike will know instantly, and most likely go after him. So the magicks surrounding Buffy would scare the vamp off. But the whole thing isn’t fully legit unless Buffy reciprocates it, which I doubt she will, since it’s never happened between a vampire and a human, much less a Slayer before. At least, it hasn’t to my knowledge." Slack-jaws all around. Anya sat back with a smile, seeming proud of herself. Giles was the first to clear his throat. "She left out one other little detail – with the claim, Spike can easily control Buffy with as little as a look. If she infuriates him, one growl would subdue her. It’s the same way that a Sire commands his Childe," Giles added, his hand over his eyes. A look of despair was crossing over his worried features. Riley continued. "Which means that Spike could kill Buffy after subduing her, and she wouldn’t be able to fight back." His voice was urgent. He was praying to God that these people were like he thought they were, and hated Spike enough to trust him once again. They needed to save Buffy from that disgusting demon. He looked around. "Are you guys getting this? If we don’t help her, Spike could be slitting her throat right now, and she won't be able to do a thing about it! He isn’t chipped anymore, and since he blamed Buffy for it, he’ll be gunning for her. The only way to stop him is to dust him, we have to go, NOW!" How quickly he’d forgotten that he’d been part of the organization that had installed Spike’s chip in the first place. If anything, Spike would have been gunning for him. A despondent but nonetheless angry look grew in Willow’s eyes, and he could’ve sworn he’d seen pink sparks of energy at her fingertips. Tara wrapped a comforting hand around Willow’s wrist, and the red-head took a deep breath. Giles echoed the witch, heading towards the door. "I’ll kill him if he’s harmed her," Riley heard the elder man murmur, and grinned widely, following Giles. Finally! "That’s the idea, let’s go!" he urged. Xander immediately jogged after him. Anya followed reluctantly, muttering something about ‘leaving the poor formerly neutered vampire alone’ and how he probably had 'more interesting things to do to a Slayer as sexually repressed as she was.’ All pleas fell on deaf ears. Willow slowly took a step forward. This couldn’t be right. She’d watched Riley, and it had seemed like he was way too eager to be rid of Spike. Yeah, maybe he was worried about Buffy, but there had to be a better way to save her, right? And what if she didn’t even need rescuing? And couldn’t they find a way to not hurt Spike, too? He was a vampire, an evil one, and one that had probably holding on to a grudge for the past few years... but he was still a nice guy. Right? Tara began to follow after the group, restraining herself from mentioning aloud the violent, conflicting marks in Riley's aura, knowing that what she said would fall on deaf ears anyway. When she noticed that someone in the group wasn't following, she stopped and turned around, seeing Dawn standing stock still, her face like stone, eyes narrowed in suspicion at Riley. Her arms were folded tightly against her chest, and her lips were set in a tight, narrow line. Tara moved back to the 14-year-old. "What’s wrong, Dawn?" Her query caused the others to stop and look back at the two. The teen looked up at the Wicca. "Spike would never hurt Buffy," she replied in a loud, clear voice. Dawn noticed that at her pronouncement, both Anya and Willow's eyes lit up; the redhead and the ex-demon both had a tiny, hopeful smiles on their faces, looking like they were thankful that someone had stood up for the vampire. Giles, however, was frowning. "Now, Dawn, we’re not entirely certain of that. He does hold a grudge against her for the chip, and he does believe it to be her fault that it was placed in his head in the first place." "Yeah, Dawnie, remember? Spike is the evil dead? He’s done nothing but pout, whine and moan over the past year about how he wants get the chip out to kill things, and, more specifically, kill the Slayer. Well, he most definitely has his chance now, and he's gunning for Buffy," Xander added. Dawn rolled her eyes, looking entirely disgusted at the men. "Okay, first: if Spike would be gunning for anyone because of the chip, wouldn't you think it would be Riley? After all," she narrowed her dark blue eyes, "he's the one that put the chip in his head in the first place, and then spent a year chasing after him, trying to do more experiments on him, even though Buffy told him to let it go." Riley got a decidedly shifty look in his eyes at that. Dawn continued. "And, hey? Hello? Did you guys even hear what Anya said? About Spike being fond of Buffy? About the claim being more protection-y than kill-y? And what about the past three weeks since he even got the chip out? He hasn’t even been killing, he’s still living on baggy blood from Willy’s and the hospital! And if Spike wanted to kill Buffy so bad, don’t you think he would’ve done it by now? He’s had plenty of chances! "I don’t care what you think of him, but I would trust Spike with my life! When Angelus and Dru had me, they were so big with leaving an extremely dead little sister on the porch as a message to Buffy, like they did with Miss Calendar. But Spike protected me. He didn’t have to, and he didn’t have the chip then, so what in the hell makes you think that he’ll take advantage of not having the chip now?" Dawn scrutinized the less-smarter men and noticed that the overgrown Boy Scout was starting to fidget nervously. I knew it she thought bitterly. That stupid prick just wanted to get rid of Spike so he could be deemed the hero and be accepted in the group again. Giles pondered over her words for a bit, inwardly wondering how a not-really-there thousand year old green blob of energy in the form of his Slayer’s teen sister could be so perceptive in the extremely short span of two months that she’d actually been with them. Then he sighed. She was right. But still... "All the more, Dawn, I’d feel much better if I saw her safe with my own eyes. Being that she is with Spike I am, needless to say, not entirely worried since I am aware that she can take care of herself. I am not entirely positive that she will come out unscathed, however, since Spike is a Slayer of two Slayers. But... I trust your words, Dawn. Let’s pray that Riley is mistaken about Spike only claiming her for the death." Everyone began to file out the door, and Anya shut and locked it securely. As they walked to Spike’s cemetery, Dawn heard Xander mutter, "Yeah, sure, right. Spike’s probably made her his nummy treat by now." She sighed. Not exactly something she wanted to hear. She hadn’t been expecting this. Not at all. But she supposed it was a better deal than having Spike rip her throat out with his fangs, the way he’d always talked about. "Mmmph," she grunted, feeling the urge to give a protest, despite wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer in to the kiss. Spike gave a low murmur of pleasure, and responded eagerly. When he’d said he was going to teach her a lesson, she’d been honestly afraid that he was going to rip her limbs right off and beat her to death with them, or something equally worth a major ‘ew’ but that hadn’t been the case. In fact, she’d seen something flicker in his eyes the moment he had taken in her now helpless position. And then he’d pounced on her, all but ravaging her. She paused for a moment to look into his eyes, then ardently resumed the kiss full-force. Yeah, definitely better. No throat-ripping for Buffy. Tonsil-swabbing with Spike was much better. A lot more fun, too. Spike growled ecstatically when Buffy continued the kiss with much more vigor than before. It was like she was using their lips to pull him into her. Not in the full-fledged hot, sweaty, naked, ‘woohoo! Fun!’ sense, but more... spiritually. Which was a huge gaff since he didn't exactly have that type of spirit. And actually, it made what she was doing to him make all the more sense, since he felt like she was sharing her soul with him -- just with a kiss. He shrugged it off, though; must be a mortal’s version of a claim. And suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He remembered back to that night last week, and the feel of his naked skin against hers... Gods, he needed to feel that again. He craved it. So once again, he began tearing at her top. And he all but cheered when she didn’t protest. "God I want you," he growled, jerking the shirt over her head in one clean swipe. Taking one moment to appreciate the smooth, flawless, ample golden breasts before him, he dove down and captured one automatically hard, rosy-pink nipple in his mouth. Buffy cried out immediately, arching her back against him, her hand darting to the back of his head and clutching him to her. Spike’s free hand drifted up and cupped her other breast, kneading it roughly and toying with the other nipple. Buffy’s head fell back, her mouth open. Oh, god, so good... so, so good. The moment Spike’s other hand moved between her legs was probably when all coherent thought processes crashed and burned. She clamped her legs down and pushed her hips forward anxiously, trying to gain some form of friction by rubbing against his hand. Her own hands trailed down his back and began ripping at his shirt. Spike growled. "Oi, watch it, luv! I like this shirt!" Buffy giggled, sitting up and tugging his shirt off all the way. "Like you don't have fifty more just like it!" Spike snorted and gently pushed her back down, pressing his cool skin against her. "None as comfortable, princess." The Slayer replied with a contented ‘mmmm’ in a tone similar to a purr, and Spike groaned, hardening rapidly. He ground against her lightly, and a pleased grin quirked his lips. Good, she liked this. Now what if he just slid his hand down here... "GNNAAHHHHHH!" Yeah, she liked that. That was probably the best sound that he had ever heard. He snickered, releasing his hold and moving his hand to her clasp and zipper. Unclasping the button, he allowed his fingers to dance around above her mound, teasing her by dipping them downward sporadically. When the small fingers on the back of his head gripped hard and jerked his head up, he chuckled. Buffy glared down at him expectantly. "Dammit, Spike, stop teasing me!" Spike chuckled and unzipped her pants, sliding the scratchy material over her hips slowly. "Don’t worry, luv. It’s coming. Or rather, you are." Buffy managed a soft giggle as Spike began tugging the pants down from around her calves. Finally he yanked the black slacks to the ground, followed quickly by her white floral lace thong. Buffy hissed softly, squeezing her eyes shut as the cold stone touched her burning skin. Then she looked up at Spike, who was staring down at her nude body, slack-jawed. Sweet holy fuck he thought, refusing to allow his eyes to move even a single inch away from her body. If he thought he couldn’t get any harder, he was dead wrong. Buffy’s eyes lowered to his crotch, and a slow grin spread across her face. Ooh. She really liked making that happen to him. She raised a strong, smooth leg between his, rubbing her thigh slowly against the throbbing bulge. Spike groaned loudly and ground into her harder, steadily. Grunting, he supported himself with one hand, while his other ran down her perfect left leg, spreading her wide open. Buffy’s eyes shot open as Spike thrust two chilled fingers inside of her, eliciting a loud passionate moan from her throat. "Oh, god," she whimpered, arching into him. Her hips began to lift up, meeting each of his slow, measured thrusts, and her right leg, entwined between both of his legs, began gliding over his crotch, slowly at first, then gaining in speed. She threw an arm around his neck and concentrated on the feel of his hand inside of her as well as pleasing the very hard muscle between his heavy, well-shaped thighs. Spike let out a growl of gratitude for her attention to his aching cock, and in response, his fingers pumped faster. Buffy squealed. "Ahh! Oh, god, Spike," she mewled again as Spike’s lips closed on her quickly healing bite wounds, pulling them open again with a gentle suck of his lips. He began drinking as the smooth, sweet, rich blood began flowing into his mouth, and with each pull of his lips, the feeling traveled down to her crotch. It made her muscles twitch around his fingers, made her thrust harder and higher. Spike moaned, his eyes rolling up. Her arousal was absolutely intoxicating, and he had to say it: this was better than his last kill. Buffy was driving him up the wall. He jerked suddenly, pulling away, her warm blood splattering on his lips. His fingers slid out of her, and he ignored the disappointed cry that escaped her lips. His cool mouth began raining soft, worshipping kisses over her hot skin, starting at her neck and leading to her breasts. Pausing for a bit, he sucked and nibbled on the hard pebbled nipples, pressing harder kisses against her, moving down her tight, taut belly, to her hips, to her -- "Holy shit!" Buffy shot straight up only to be pushed right back down again by a very persistent Spike hand. She got up again, attempting to close her legs and kick him away at the same time, but he gripped her firmly, holding her down like a steel clamp... Well, a heavy, pale, blonde, annoying, pressuring, muscular, positively gorgeous steel clamp. She vainly tried to kick at him, twisting on to her side and trying to crawl away. "Stop it, Spike! Leave me – ow! I can not believe you just did that!" she squawked, rubbing a hand over the red handprint on her rump. Spike grinned mischievously, pushing her down on her back again and firmly setting her legs apart. He trailed his finger slowly down her stomach. "Believe it, baby. Now HOLD STILL. Or do you want me to get rough?" Buffy gaped at him, momentarily sidetracked by what the implications of his words could lead to, then squirmed again, snapping out of it and trying to protest. "Spike, don’t. Please don’t, Spike, no – oh!" Her cry resonated in the crypt, contradicting her attempted resistance. Spike chuckled softly, his face nuzzled happily right between his Slayer’s thighs. His tongue slid out and ran slowly along her slit, then pushed past her lips, touching the pointed tip just above her clit. Buffy’s eyes were killing her. They had opened so wide, it was a wonder that they hadn’t fallen out yet. She was dying to grab Spike’s head and force him to go deeper, but as luck would have it, Spike had her hands pinned to the concrete. Damn. Hold on. She experimentally thrust against his mouth. She wasn't surprised when she was rewarded by an eager groan and a tongue pushing its way inside of her. "Nnnghhh! Oh... Spike, yes... uhhh..." If she didn’t stop moaning like that, Spike’s head was gonna explode. As it was, he had to grind against the stone slab beneath him to keep himself somewhat sane. She tasted amazing. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Warm and luscious... like a fresh, ripe peach. Delicious. He finally released her arms, and her hands instantly made a grab for his head, the blonde locks curling around her fingers. Spike slid his tongue around before finally focusing on the clit. He licked a circle around it once, then rapped it sharply. He grinned to himself when Buffy responded, her hips jumping up, and he finally gave in to the poor girl, pulling the swollen nub between his lips, sucking it slowly but with an edge that made Buffy feel like she was being sucked by a vacuum cleaner. Her head lolled about above him, her face picturesque in her natural beauty, her lips letting slip soft moans and mewls that made him want to stay buried in her forever with each plunge of his tongue. A gasping cry slipped out of her mouth as Spike sank his teeth gently into the sensitive swell. "Sp-ike! What... wh-wha... oh, god..." she choked out, her insides beginning to clutch. Thrusting frantically, she dug her fingers into his scalp, jerking his head down to meet her hips each time. "Harder... harder! Oh, god, harderharder, god, please, Spike!" Spike really had to fight to keep control at the sound of the Slayer moaning, gasping his name, and begging – actually begging – him to go harder. He complied to her desperate pleas, his tongue pressing coarsely against her clit, pushing into it mercilessly. Whatever you want, baby. Harder, slower, faster, faster, rougher. He pulled out all the stops for her. He lashed at her relentlessly, and god, he was going to come right in his jeans if that beast inside of her got any louder. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, thrashing around up there, like an untamed animal, her eyes shut, sweating, her beautiful hair all mussed up and - He gave a loud growl and swallowed. Buffy moaned, spasming into his mouth, her hips arching off the stone while her entire body convulsed. And she thought his fingers were talented. This was incomparable, and the feeling she was being bombarded by was ten times the way she’d felt when he’d first introduced her to the intimate side of his hand. It was somewhere between the last quakes of her orgasm, and her settling emotions when she realized a few things. First... this was fun. Second... She was really, really late for training. But her third and fourth realizations shocked her the most. Third, she didn’t care if she was late, and fourth, she didn’t want to leave. Sitting up, her eyes lowered once more to Spike’s swollen crotch. Buffy REALLY didn’t want to leave. Spike lifted his head to stare at her face, licking his lower lip clean of her juices, then tilting his head. He watched as the emotions flickered through her eyes. Slowly, Buffy leaned forward, pressing her lips gently to his. Spike's purr rumbled softly inside his chest and he threw an arm around her, kissing her back feverishly. "Buffy," he gasped, pulling away from her kiss for a bit to nuzzle her neck affectionately. Buffy pulled away and studied him for a moment, looking into his eyes. Her hand slowly reached forward, moving toward his jeans, and Spike watched silently, shivers racing up and down his body in anticipation. Suddenly he looked up. Uh-oh. He jumped to his feet and helped Buffy off of the sarcophagus. He gathered her clothes and shoved them at her. "Get dressed luv. Come on, put your things on, quick." Buffy gave him a confused look but obediently began fumbling for her things, hopping on one leg as she squirmed into her panties. "Why, what is it?" she asked, hopping into the slacks and pulling on the peasant top. Spike shot a paranoid, despairing glance at the door of the crypt, then looked back at Buffy. "Hit me." Buffy did a double take, staring at him, astounded. "What?" Spike gazed at her, grasping her shoulders. "HIT ME." Buffy jerked away from him in shock. "How can you expect me to do that? After what we just did? I’m not gonna hit you, Spike, no way!" Spike growled. He shouldn't be surprised. Not listening to him was one big Stubborn!Buffy trait. He knew that the only way to make the bull-headed little chit listen (usually) was to piss her off. Luckily, he happened to excel in that particular department. "HIT ME, you stupid bloody bint!" he yelled, tossing an effectively powerful, violent punch across her face. Buffy’s head snapped to the side, and her hand promptly rose to her cheek, covering the mark. Her head slowly turned back to scrutinize him, incredulous. Then, instinctively, she hauled off and gave him a blow that sent him flying right onto his ass in the middle of the crypt. And Here Enter Scoobies. Buffy glared down at Spike angrily, nearly ready to strangle the stupid blonde bastard, until she saw his eyes flit to something behind her. She followed his gaze and turned, finding several shocked friends and an extremely unwelcome boyfriend gaping at her. She turned back quickly to stare at Spike in astonishment. How the hell... Oh, god. Her face fell. Spike had known that they were coming. He’d known, and he’d told her to hit him so they wouldn’t be caught in any compromising positions. She stared at him quietly, her heart nearly breaking at his pained expression. She couldn't ever just listen, could she? She turned back to her friends and watched them nervously. "Um, hi, guys." Giles looked over the top of his glasses at his charge, frowning heavily, glancing around Spike's completely trashed living space. "Buffy, what is going on here?" Buffy shifted on one foot, but made no attempt to come closer to the gang. "Oh, uh, nothing. I, uh, I came here to talk to Spike. To get some info. On a vamp nest somewhere downtown. And he, uh, pissed me off. So I hit him. Because, uh... that's what I do." Spike was now getting to his feet, wiping a streak of blood from his mouth and licking it off, shooting the entire group (Riley in particular) a dirty look. He stood a little ways to the side, behind Buffy. Xander cocked his head. "Well we can see that, Buff, not that he probably didn’t deserve it, whatever he did, but –" And that did. Spike was fed up. "Why is it that you lot never see fit to knock on my bloody door, but even if I’m not invited, I go out of my way to knock on yours?" he growled, effectively shutting Xander up for a moment with his icy glare. "I don’t see why it is that you can’t fuckin’ respect me. I am a powerful, irreconcilable force, now, people! I can kill you all in one single instant, but hell knows why I haven’t! It’s one thing when you’re searchin’ for some bloody info, but this is my fuckin’ home! I don't give two shits if you like me or not, learn to fuckin' respect me, an' more importantly, learn how to fuckin' knock! Now get out!" At that instant, Dawn pushed forward, moving toward the extremely pissed off vampire. Riley reached out to grab her and pull her back, but Dawn shoved him away angrily, running to Spike’s side and grabbing his arm. Giles reacted with apprehension. "Dawn, get away from him!" The teen glared rebelliously at the group in front of her, then turned to the vampire, her gaze softening. Spike, who meanwhile had been glaring at the three men of the group hatefully, jumped lightly when Dawn tugged on his arm. He'd been so incensed that he hadn’t even realized she was next to him. "Spike? You okay?" Spike looked down at the little brown-haired morsel in confusion. When he realized that the girl was actually concerned about his welfare, his eyebrows rose, the hard angry lines vanished from his face, and he gazed at the fourteen-year-old in wonder. Dawn knew he’d gotten the chip out. She knew that he could rip her apart at any moment. And she still wasn’t afraid. This girl was officially his now. He didn’t need to claim her to show that. The Summers girls -- all three of them -- were his. He nodded slowly, reached a hand up to cover hers, and gently squeezed it. "Yeh, luv, I’m fine. Don’t worry your pretty head about me," he murmured. Then he lifted his head and glared past Buffy at the men. "Watcher, I respect you. Honestly, I don’t know why, seein’ as you’ve never treated me with one ounce of respect since we met. But I do. Harris, I... tolerate you on the good days. An' Cardboard, get this one thing straight – I hate you. Can’t stand you. Despise you, want you nowhere near me. Right now, though, I can’t stand lookin’ at any one of you pillocks, an’ I want you to get the bloody hell out of my home, now." Giles, who had managed to become stunned by Spike's obvious affection toward Dawn, nodded wearily to show that he had heard the vampire. If anything, Spike had looked touched that Dawn had been worried about him. And he’d also noticed that Spike was being completely civil to the girls. He wondered if he had always been this way - if he had always had a softer spot for women, and viewed other men as nothing more than beasts intruding on his territory. He sighed. It wasn't likely that he would find out anytime soon. "Come along, Dawn, Buffy. Your mother will be fretting, and we really shouldn’t leave her alone too long." Dawn nodded at the Watcher, and as Giles left, she turned to Spike and threw her arms around his waist tightly, completely taking the vampire off-guard. His eyes widened, and he awkwardly patted the girl’s back. "Uh, thanks, pet. Go on, now. Mum’ll be wonderin’ ‘bout you." Dawn nodded again, giving him a final squeeze. "Take care. Don’t let Buffy act like she’s on top of the world and push you around or anything, kay? 'Cause you know she's not," she said, grinning. Spike favored her with a smile and chuckled. "Natch, pet." Dawn grinned and bounced out the door. Tara shot Spike a weary but grateful smile, then worriedly hurried out the door after the fourteen-year-old before she could find and/or create a calamity. Anya fidgeted slightly and tugged impatiently on Xander’s arm. "Can we go now, please? Buffy’s fine, see? She’s hitting Spike like normal! And I've just been struck by that damn monthly ritual that human females go through. You know, the menstrua—" Xander clapped his hand firmly over his girlfriend’s mouth, blanching. He gave everyone a sheepish grin, shot a scowl at Spike (who had a huge grin on his face, managing to keep himself from laughing his ass off), then dragged her out the door. Willow drifted toward Buffy, her head tilted to one side, and she gently put her hand on the blonde’s shoulder. She’d been watching her friend before, and noticed that the blonde kept shooting guilty looks at Spike, though the bleach blonde was pointedly ignoring them. He was now shuffling about the crypt, gathering the things that had been knocked out of place and setting them right. Buffy looked up at the touch of her friend’s hand, and she gave Willow a weak smile. "Hey, Wills," she murmured, watching Spike as he finished cleaning, before lifting himself up onto the sarcophagus. Lying down on his back, he folded his arms behind his head. Willow looked at Buffy. "Are you okay? You look kinda... conflicted, y’know?" Buffy smiled. "Yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired. You know, with the... the bursting in, and the... fighting, and... well, the bursting in and the fighting." She sighed. "I don’t know." Willow frowned sympathetically, then leaned in. "Buffy, did he bite you again? I-I mean, not that he... uh, but, um, Riley said t-that he did, and I, uh, just wanted to m-make sure." Buffy’s eyes shot to a suddenly stoic Riley, standing as a sentinel at the door of the crypt. Hmph. A soldier through and through. She narrowed her eyes, then sighed. "Yeah, he did. BUT," she added quickly, holding her hand up to cut off an inevitable Willow ramble, "I let him. I didn’t stop him. In fact," she turned a paranoid eye towards the vampire," I... I kinda... made him. I... wanted him to bite me." Willow’s eyes widened. "Buffy!" "Shh! Vamp hearing!" "Sorry, sorry!" Willow shifted on one foot, looking around nervously. "So, you, uh... wanted him to? Really?" Buffy bit her lower lip, peeking up at Willow from under her lashes guiltily. "Um... yes?" She sighed and pouted. "I don’t know why. I can’t explain it really well... I just wanted him to. It’s... intense, y’know? It's kind of like... like he's a great big Spike magnet, and I can't help but be little magnetized Buffy, heading for him at full speed. I can’t understand why but... I sort of... like being around him!" she whispered in the lowest possible voice. She truly hoped it was low enough to slip past Spike’s already spectacular hearing, but she knew she was asking for too much. Once again, this was Spike. Willow smiled gently. She knew that Buffy was probably writhing in agony over this. She probably didn’t even realize that it was the claim having that partial effect over her. "Buffy, you might be happy to know that there’s a reason for all this. Riley said that Spike claimed you." Buffy looked up, surprised. "What? He saw that?" She blinked and shook her head. "No, no, Will. I know he did, but that’s not why. The Spidey goes extra wiggy when he’s around, yeah, and I feel connected to him, even when he isn’t around, but that's the claim. I don’t know where the hell these other feelings are coming from." Willow looked at her in surprise. "So you knew? A-And the claim, how do you know what’s the claim and what isn’t?" "Well I only just found out when he bit me again, cuz I heard him. And it’s just a feeling. A Slayer has never been claimed before, so there might be some different effects. I dunno, Giles told me. I wasn’t paying much attention." Willow nodded slowly. Was this bad? Buffy was shaking her head, sighing. "I don’t know. I’ll figure it out eventually. You should probably go. You have that Sociology class tomorrow, while I have to deal with a moody vampire and a neglected ex who can’t take a hint." Willow smiled gently. "You’ll be careful?" Buffy grinned. "As always, I shall deal. See you later." "Later, Buffy!" Willow called, walking out the door. When Willow had disappeared, Riley turned toward Buffy, folding his arms. "So. Are we gonna –" "No," Buffy said firmly. "Get out, Riley. I don’t want to deal with you right now. In fact, I don't want to deal with you ever. I thought I’d made it pretty clear when I said I never wanted to see you again. Would you please listen to me this time? I'll say it again, really slowly: I never, ever want to see you again. That means don’t come near me. Don’t come near my family and friends. And stay the hell away from Spike, I can take care of him on my own." Spike’s head shot off the stone at the mention of his name. What now? Oh. Buffy was telling the Ring-A-Ding Dick off. Sounded like she was breaking up with him. Wait, what? Oh. Yes! Fuck yes, she was dumping him! She’d remembered his request for the front row seat! Riley stared in disbelief at Buffy, unwilling to accept what he was hearing. "Buffy, are you insane? You’re breaking up with me? I thought we had something good here, what’s going on?" Buffy straightened, folding her arms. "What’s going on is that I’ve finally gotten some... stones," she replied, hazarding a glance at Spike, her eyes widening slightly in surprise when she saw him watching the scene intently. She looked back at the commando. "Riley, you think everything has to be a competition between us. I let you lead me around on a short leash when I’m with you, because I felt bad about my strength, and my purpose in life, and I felt bad that you had lost yours. But now, you’re always clinging to me. You expect me to drop everything I’m doing and run to your side the minute you say my name. "You don’t seem to understand or care that my mother is sick, and I have to take care of her and my teenage sister. And on top of that, I have to continually try to save the world and protect this stupid town night after every fucking night from demons and vampires and, and demony-human hybrid things! I refuse to balance on my fucking head every fucking time you want me to, and I have finally had it with you! We are through!" Riley’s hand shot out, shoving her to the wall. He grabbed her, squeezing her shoulders tightly. "Wait a minute—" The second his hands touched her, Buffy’s fists instantly flew out, punching him and wrenching out of his grip. She tried desperately not to shudder. What had once offered calmness and comfort now gave her a sense of filth, and a really strong urge to vomit. "Don’t touch me!" she shrieked, "Don’t put your hands on me ever again! Get away, stay the hell away from us! Get out!" Riley gazed at her, his shock stilling him enough to keep him from reacting on his anger. Dammit all to hell, this was all Spike’s fault! It had to be! Turning on his heel, he stormed out of the crypt. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, glaring in the direction the bastard had gone in. Thank God; she was finally free. It was so weird; once, he’d been sweet and dorky, doing anything to win her affection. Then the moment she gave in, he turned into some freakish psychotic tyrant. History had a really bad habit of repeating itself. When a cool presence behind her alerted her of Spike, she gasped and spun around, staring into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Spike tilted his head, watching Buffy with the utmost curiosity and intrigue. Wicked. Righteous. Powerful. Beautiful. Strong. Vulnerable. Brave. Timid. Warrior. Yet, through everything that she was, no matter how old she was, or what she’d seen, Buffy was still one thing. A girl. She was still just a little girl, though her eyes had shown her way too much of the world. Such a brave, brave girl. Yeah, he was definitely in love with her. He gently took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it with a gentleness and sincerity that she hadn’t expected, not from him. She began to shake. Why hadn’t she been this nervous earlier? There he’d had his head between her legs, and she hadn’t even twitched with embarrassment, but this... All he’d done was kiss her hand, and she was ready to faint from the fright of it all. She let out a shaky breath as Spike wrapped an arm gently around her waist, pulling her close. With an equally tranquil hand, he brought her chin up and cupped her cheek, his thumb idly stroking it. Oh, boy. This was gonna be big, he could feel it. The sensations were running rampant from his toes to his scalp, bouncing around inside of him. He had never felt this way around a woman, not since William had found the courage to speak to a particularly cruel, selfish, aristocratic bitch all those years ago. One that he knew now he had been foolish enough to declare love for. Spike prayed to God that didn't listen to his kind that he wasn’t making the same mistake. Damn him if he didn’t know any better. He could swear his heart was beating off the charts, banging around aimlessly inside of his chest. He leaned in slowly, licking his lips and swallowing hard. He was fully prepared to kiss this girl right off her feet. The second before Spike’s lips touched hers, Buffy made a dismayed sound and jerked back, ruining Spike’s vision of the most perfect kiss of his entire existence. Trembling violently, she began to walk backwards, then spun around and shot out the door at light speed. And in that moment, Spike felt his heart stop beating once more, before it completely shattered. Watching her leave, with a pained expression on his face, he sank to the floor. Buffy raced down the street toward her home. Screw the Scooby meeting. She could throw off patrolling until later. This was getting out of hand. No one was supposed to make her feel like this, no one except for Angel, and she was long past her romantic teenage views of him. But he’d been the only one who had ever made her feel so quivery and weak. And that was something that Spike should NOT have access to. But he did. Something different had happened when Spike had tried to kiss her. At first, this whole thing had just been some weird sort of hidden attraction, then later, a way to keep her mind off of Riley. It never meant anything... to her, anyway. The way he’d moved... the way he’d touched her had shown her a completely different side of Spike. A side she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see. He’d been mean, evil, icky Spike for so long, and seeing sweet, gentle, yummy Spike with the evil, sharp teeth was... well, it was wiggy. (Actually it was more like a kick in the gut – the yummy Spike part was big and disturbing enough as it was). What was even more wiggy about it was that she liked sweet, gentle, yummy Spike with the evil, sharp teeth. She looked up and realized she was in front of her house. Mom would be in her room. Dawn was either at Janice’s or watching TV. She should probably check in. Instead, she sank down on the porch steps and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, and she involuntarily let out a sob. Her entire body shuddered, and her crying deepened. Oh, god, what was happening to her? TBC. Please continue to review me ^_^

Chapter #7 - a vision of you...

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part VII... .:a vision of you, standing out in the crowd:. She had done a very stupid thing. She should’ve just stayed at home and looked after Mom and Dawn. And instead, she’d allowed her friends to drag her into another Bronze night. Why? Because they’d felt that she needed ‘cheering up.' Whatever. They’d already had a Bronze night earlier that week, for Tara’s birthday. It had been a very welcome diversion after the chaos that was Tara’s family and a bunch of invisible Lei-Ach demons. Not to mention the bruises Buffy was still sporting from that fight with Glory, that stupid bitch who thought she was a god or something. Spike had entered the training room just as she was being attacked by two of the demons (she figured that his link to her had given him fair warning). But the spell Tara had used to mask her so-called demon side had instead masked everything of demonic origin -- including Spike -- from her eyes, so she hadn’t even known he was there until the spell was reversed. He’d managed to save her from one of the more aggressive demons, and he’d even scared off Tara’s "family" during their attempt to drag the Wicca back home. It really was quite funny watching Mr. MacLay turn tail and run, screaming like a little girl, from a vamped, snarling Spike. True, Spike had said at first that he hadn’t really cared, but she guessed that when it looked like bloodshed was inevitable, he wanted in. Bloodshed always reeled them in. Later on, Spike had scented Tara... or at least that was what Buffy had told everyone. She didn't think Willow would react too well if she'd been told that Spike had bitten her girlfriend, even if it was just to help. Actually, Tara had been happy enough to not be taken away that she had allowed Spike to gently bite down on her finger, to test her blood for any demon residue. Which, Buffy realized dumbly a minute later, that Spike could do. Obviously, Tara was demon free. Having a vampire around really came in handy. Anyway, that minor interaction with him was one of the only times that Buffy had spoken to him since the sweet, gentle, yummy Spike with evil, sharp teeth incident. I have REALLY got to get a shorter name for that. Otherwise, it was all business. And when she went patrolling, she always dragged someone else along with her, lest she ran into him. She just didn’t trust herself alone around him. She mentally snorted. Would anyone? "Oh, Buffy! Eve where air balloon and craft out jam crackers in Bali." Buffy jumped to attention, nearly knocking her untouched glass of Coke right off the table as she looked at Willow. She creased her brow, blankly trying to put together the words and hopefully comprehend the phrase she’d just heard. "Wh... what?" Willow sighed. "I said... oh, never mind" The Willow Pout© was affected. "Ruin all my excitement, you pooper of parties." Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she really wondered if Willow was as old as she said she was. "Buffy, are you okay? You’ve been so out of it ever since you broke up with Riley. Are you regretting it?" Tara asked, a frown marring her gentle features. Buffy looked up sharply, then snorted. "Hell no! Breaking up with Riley was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I swear, by the time I dumped him, I was so ready to just wrap my hands around his throat and strangle him till he turned black and blue," she muttered, completing the disturbing image with hand motions. She looked up at the sudden silence and caught the wide-eyed gaze that both Tara and Willow were giving her. Buffy grinned sheepishly. "Uh... pretend you didn’t hear that." Both girls nodded quickly. "No problem," Willow mumbled, eyeing Buffy wearily and taking a sip of her (virgin) drink. The girl was gonna snap any day now. "Whoo! The Xan-Man is on fire tonight!" Xander bellowed, doing a little dance and spinning once before flopping down onto his seat. Anya, shaking her head, followed right behind him with a smile on her face. "Do you guys want anything more to drink?" Xander asked as he wrapped an arm around his girlfriend and tilted his head at the other three girls. Both Tara and Buffy shook their heads, but Willow raised her glass to him. "I do. Can you get me another of these? What's it called, anyway?" Xander grinned evilly at Willow as he peered into the remaining dregs of the swirly liquid. "A Virgin Pussy." Willow's face immediately went red, and she averted her eyes as the group at the table suddenly roared with laughter. She gave them all a tiny, sheepish grin, still blushing as bright as her hair. "Never mind then." Xander coughed once to get rid of his giggles, then sat up straight, releasing Anya. "So what’s up, guys? We’ve ceased to get our groove on tonight? They're still playing that Sublime song on the speakers if you'd like to join me and Ahn." Buffy shrugged. "Eh. I’m not really up to boogying down right now, Xander. But you all can go on, I don’t mind." Xander pouted, Willow armed herself with a puppy dog look, complete with jutting lower lip, and Tara frowned, looking concerned. She had taken it upon herself to be attentive to the diminutive blonde, especially since Buffy had been her biggest champion in throwing out her father, brother and cousin the previous week. "Are you sure, Buffy? We can stay here and talk. The song’s over anyway." Buffy smiled reassuringly at the blonde witch and nodded. Good old Tara. I'm glad I'm getting to know her better. Plus, she must still be feeling guilty about the whole, 'I'm a demon' whatsit. "I’m okay, Tara. You can go on." Feeling someone's eyes on her, Buffy turned her head slowly, coming face to face with Xander, noticing with some alarm that he was studying her a little too intently. "What?" she asked, drawing out the word, feeling just a little too self-conscious with his brown eyes glued to her like that. "Does this moodiness have anything to do with Riley?" "No!" ‘Well are you sure this thing with Spike hasn’t made you paranoid or something?" He leaned closer. "Did he do anything, force himself on you so he could bite you?" It was quite convenient of Xander to completely forget that Riley had mentioned that Buffy hadn't resisted Spike at all. "Do we need to make with the poofing?" He pantomimed himself sticking a stake into Spike -- although in this case, his hand actually hit the pizza in the plate in front of him. He pulled his hand back and grimaced, wiping it off. Buffy shook her head in frustration. "No. Guys, god, I didn’t let Spike do anything to me that I didn’t…" She quickly began backtracking when she realized how much TMI she was about to give. "I... mean... I let him bite me. And I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me. I know about the claim and everything." She sighed and put her head in her hands. "I just don’t know why he claimed me." Xander shrugged. "To control you? If he's got control of you, then that would make it easier for you to be killed, wouldn't it?" Anya fidgeted in her seat, shaking her head. "It's because he likes her!" Four heads shot up to stare at her in shock. Buffy’s face paled. "W-what?" she whispered. Anya rolled her eyes when she realized she'd said one of those taboo things that probably shouldn't have been... oh. Oops. Well, for D'Hoffryn's sake, she couldn’t help it! It was hard being perceptive and keeping your mouth shut! Besides, she'd seen the way the incredibly hot vampire always looked at Buffy -- only a complete moron would miss the fact that Spike had taken a more personal interest in the Slayer. She sighed again and looked around her at the dumbfounded faces. Right. How could she forget? Fortunately enough for her, she’d spent a thousand plus years learning how to cover herself after unconventional means of vengeance. "Well we were commenting on what could possibly make Spike want to claim you. There's a very vague possibility that he likes you. Mind you, just a possibility. But a big one. Don’t worry, Buffy. Xander’s probably right. Spike probably just wants to control you so it’ll be easier for him to kill you later." She smiled and crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt and grabbing on to Xander’s arm. Buffy gaped at her. Okay... so Anya hadn't been human all that long... she was still learning the ropes of trying to comfort people... No, that still wasn't comforting. Come my lady, come, come my lady You’re my butterfly, sugar, baby Come my lady, you’re my pretty baby you're my butterfly, sugar, baby "Oh! Oh oh oh! It’s CrazyTown! Get up get up get up, we HAVE to dance to this!" Xander whooped, jumping up, grabbing Anya and racing onto the dance floor. Willow and Tara grinned at each other and grabbed hands, following the first two. Buffy watched her friends as they submerged themselves into the sex-charged crowd of people, all who were now writhing and grinding against each other. She couldn’t help but notice that neither of her friends had stopped to say anything to her before racing out to the floor with their significant others. Damn. She felt lonely. Maybe she should’ve held on to Riley, just for... No. No, definitely not. Breaking up with that maggot was the best thing she’d ever done. Such a sexy, sexy, pretty little thing fierce nipple pierce, you got me sprung with your tongue ring And I ain’t gonna lie, cuz you’re lovin’ gets me high So to keep you by my side, there’s nothin’ that I won’t try She hated him. Two-syllable, five-letter word. Could also be rearranged to spell what she dolled out for fledglings every night. Right. Digressing. Okay, so maybe she didn’t hate Riley per se, but she really, really didn’t like him anymore. He didn’t have what she needed. HE wasn’t what she needed. She didn’t need him. In fact, if anyone needed anyone, it was HIM who needed HER! Well she didn’t need him, didn’t need anyone for a relationship, or for some stupid dance. She’d danced by herself before. So fuck it. She’d dance by herself now. Butterflies in her eyes and the looks to kill Time is passing and I’m asking could this be real? Cuz I can’t sleep, I can’t hold still The only thing I really know is she got sex appeal Standing up, Buffy was the walking definition of the well-written lyrics. Walking to the dance floor, switching her hips to the beat of the song, she exuded an air of confidence that succeeded in turning heads, both male and female. Or maybe it was the strappy blue halter-top and the tight black leather skirt that was grabbing most of the attention. So what? Making her way to the center of the floor and closing her eyes, she listened to the churning punk rhythm. The music took over her body, and her hips began to gyrate, her waist began to twist, her arms rising above her head in a bewitching dance. She lost herself to the song. I can feel too much is never enough you’re always there to lift me up when these times get rough I was lost now I’m found Ever since you’ve been around You’re the woman that I want so yo I’m puttin’ it down Come my lady, come, come my lady You’re my butterfly, sugar, baby Come my lady, you’re my pretty baby I’ll make your legs shake, you make me go crazy Demoness. That was what she was. She moved like a demon, fought like a demon, it’d only make sense that she'd be one. She hadn’t really talked to him since that night at his crypt, and it was driving him insane. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand... why had she run away? He’d felt things he never thought he’d feel again. Things he'd forgotten, things he hadn’t felt since the last happy times he’d had with Dru. I don’t deserve you unless it’s some kinda hidden message to show me life is precious then I guess it’s true But to tell the truth I never really knew till I met you He growled low in his throat at the lyrics of the song. They were hitting way too close to home. That was it, he couldn’t stand it. He had to touch the girl. He chugged back the last of his imported beer and extinguished his cigarette in some preppy school boy’s Coke, earning a resentful Look from the twit. Spike gave him a purely evil smirk, flashed his fangs, and slammed the beer bottle down on the bar, chuckling inwardly as the boy paled and jumped. Getting up in one lithe surge, he sauntered onto the floor. I was lost and confused, twisted and used up knew a better life existed, but thought that I’d missed it My life style’s wild, I was livin’ like a wild child Trapped on a short leash paroled, the police files So yo what’s happening now? I see the sun breaking, shinin’ through dark clouds And a vision of you, standing out in the crowds Gods. She was so gorgeous his heart felt like it would break in two. He growled as he neared her. The poor chit had a bunch of mangy frat boys slobbering all over her. One braved the seductress’s dance and slid forward, putting a hand on her hip. Buffy made no move to bring herself closer, but Spike’s demon still flared, and he growled gently to keep it from emerging altogether. No one, but no-fucking-one, least of all some pussy-faced, pimple-popping little college kid who didn’t know his dick from a twig, touched his girl. The aura of menace that he'd authenticated his claim as the Big Bad appeared as he moved through the crowd, which parted instantly, like the Red Sea for Moses. When he arrived at the throng of wankers surrounding Buffy, most of them moved out of the vampire’s way, somehow sensing how fruitless it would be to pick a fight with him. He shook his head as he watched Buffy and the four remaining lugs enclosing her. Really. What in the blue hell made these stupid gits think they even had a scrap of a chance with his Slayer? Come my lady, come, come my lady You’re my butterfly, sugar, baby Come my lady, you’re my pretty baby I’ll make your legs shake, you make me go crazy She could sense his presence behind her – she'd sensed it practically since he'd walked in. Her Spidey sense went off the charts when Spike was around, almost like it knew that Spike was a special one, a vampire to be held in higher regard than other vampires. She knew she should be slightly wigged at his proximity, but right now, she was having way too much fun to worry. So she thought nothing of it when two of her admirers went flying, and she pressed into him when Spike’s cool, sensual hands wrapped around her waist. Spike peered over Buffy’s head at the college boys and smirked in victory, leading his hands up her body and cupping her breasts, squeezing them possessively. Buffy let out a low moan and pushed into him more, one arm wrapping around his neck. Spike ground his crotch into her ass, fully aware that she could feel every inch of him awakening, and truly not giving a flying fuck. The frat boys glowered and shoved off, knowing that the blonde girl had made her choice – she hadn’t let either of them get that close to her. And they weren't about to mess with the freak behind her. Spike slid his hand under the Slayer’s skimpy top and captured a rosy nipple, twisting and turning it, rubbing it until it ached. Buffy moaned again and threw her head back against his shoulder, hearing his ragged voice mutter in her ear, "Fuck, I want you." She replied by pressing into him, rubbing her ass up and down his cock with a powerful, dizzying friction. He could see her skirt riding up her thighs, and oh god... if they hadn't been in public right now, Buffy would have been on the ground, riding something a little harder than his thigh. Spinning her around, Spike hoisted her into his arms, and she quickly hooked her legs around his, ankles wrapped around his calves, fingers gripping the thick leather of his duster almost hard enough to bruise. They were face to face now, hooded blue eyes meeting heavy green ones, both aroused, both proud and secure in their sexuality, neither giving a damn now about where they were. Buffy began to move against him, the skirt sliding up around her hips. Spike quickly draped his duster over her, intent on keeping the view of her body from anyone’s sight but his own. He let out a soft groan as he felt her burning crotch grind into his, the wet spot on her panties rubbing a hole through his jeans and making his cock jump towards her. Her excitement was filling the room and Spike was dizzy from the scent of it. He was drowning. Hey, sugar mama, come and dance with me the smartest thing you ever did was take a chance with me whatever tickles your fancy girl, it’s me and you like Sid and Nancy Fuck. Fuck. He was gonna come, and fast. There was absolutely no fucking way on earth that he could be here, dancing to this song, in this position with the Slayer, and not come. His balls were aching, and his cock felt like it was going to explode any second. He could hear Buffy’s harsh breathing in his ear as she ground into him, and knew that she was having a bit of the same problem. His eyes focused on a droplet of sweat that appeared at the nape of her neck, and slid over her collarbone, moving down her chest, trickling down the very visible valley between those sweet, supple breasts... His head darted forward, and his tongue traced the path, licking up the saltiness, sucking her skin momentarily. Buffy cried out, throwing her head back, and arching up, the wetness of her panties soaking the lump in the front of Spike's jeans. So sexy... almost evil talkin’ ‘bout butterflies in my head I used to think that happy endings were only in the books I read But you made me feel alive when I was almost dead Recognition of the lyrics flashed through both their minds, and their eyes locked, each understanding the implications of the words. A crooked smile crossed Buffy’s face as she wrapped both arms around his neck, and Spike returned the smile, tugging her closer. God, he loved this girl. Buffy was pressed up against Spike enough so they could... um, "dance" comfortably, but she wasn't so close to him that anyone who looked would see and have a heart attack. Like Xander. Which was probably a good thing considering that Xander, at the moment, was very well on his way to a heart attack, just from the sight of them not hitting each other. Buffy... and Spike... dancing? "Holy Toledo! What in the sacred name of Zeus is that?" he yelped, nearly dropping Anya. The ex-demon turned, following her boyfriend’s gaze. She grinned slightly. Anya loved it when she was right. "It’s Buffy. And Spike. They’re dancing. We should dance, too." She tugged on his arm, trying to convince him of the sense in her words, and made a small noise of frustration when he pulled away. "Dancing? Buffy’s dancing with Spike?" he yelped. "It doesn’t look like they’re dancing! They look like they’re about to eat each other alive, like they’re going at it in the middle of the floor!" Anya grinned to herself; by the flushed looks on their faces, it seemed that was exactly what they were doing. But she couldn’t tell that to Xander. He might go into cardiac arrest. "Xander, take it easy. Buffy’s been stressed lately with all this Riley stuff piled on top of the normal demon stuff. Maybe she just wants to relax for one night. She’s put the minor fact that Spike is an evil vampire to the side for evening, and if she can, then so can you." Xander looked at her. "But –" "Xander..." Anya gently touched his shoulder, her voice softening. "Look at her." He did. "Does she look disgusted? Like she’s gonna back away and stab him anytime soon?" Xander frowned and shook his head. He saw Spike lean in and whisper something to her, then gawked in surprise when Buffy giggled and hid her face in his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck. Anya continued. "No, she doesn’t. She looks happy for once, doesn’t she?" Xander sighed and nodded. "Yes..." "Right. She’s happy. So just leave them alone." She took his hand and pulled him close to finish the dance. He really didn’t want to. He looked toward the center of the floor again. But it made Buffy happy. You filled that empty space with the love I used to chase and as far as I can see, it don’t get better than this So, butterfly, here is a song, and it’s sealed with a kiss And a thank you miss "You know you’re bloody well beautiful, don’t you?" Buffy grinned. "You might have mentioned it a few times." She leaned in, burying her face in his neck, breathing in his scent. "Any particular reason for bringing it up?" Spike pulled her closer, kissing her neck. His hands cupped her ass, and his grinding became quicker, his breathing coming in shallow, erratic bursts. "Just checking, luv." Buffy moaned blissfully, resting her cheek against his. She whimpered in his ear, then playfully licked his earlobe, sending shivers running up and down the vampire’s spine. She paid for it when Spike slammed his pulsing bulge against her scantily clad clit. Her fingers curled into his hair as she moaned, and she arched backwards, her head falling back, her hips thrusting against him blindly. Spike groaned and quickly unzipped his pants, knowing he was close and not particularly wanting to wash out any stains from his jeans later. Come my lady, come, come my lady you’re my butterfly, sugar, baby come my lady, you’re my pretty baby I’ll make you legs shake, you make me go crazy As the final lyrics of the song played, the words seemed to be ordering Spike and Buffy to comply and Spike slid his hand between himself and the Slayer, gripping his cock and squirting the liquid out onto the hem of Buffy's halter. His head flopped down on her shoulder and he let out a soft groan. Buffy gave a long, satisfied sigh, her insides clenching and spasming as she approached her own release. When she did, she buried her face in Spike’s neck and bit down gently, her blunt teeth lightly imprinting his skin. Nevertheless, the feel of her teeth against his skin made instinct rear up. He lifted her hand, allowed his fangs to slide out, and gently bit into her wrist, lapping at her blood. After a moment, he withdrew and licked the wound clean, placing a gentle kiss on them. Buffy slid down, looking up at him with dazed eyes. She lifted a shaky hand and touched a finger to his lips, wiping off a smear of crimson. She sighed. "You really have to stop doing that," she murmured. Spike gave her a small smile, discreetly zipping himself up with one hand. "Why?" She slid a finger down his chest and splayed her hand over his abdomen, rubbing his muscles gently. "Because then I won’t be held accountable for what I’d do to you." He wasn’t sure whether to curse the non-existent vampire refractory period, or thank the Powers That Be over and over for it. He tilted his head. "Show me?" Buffy smiled. "Maybe." She brushed past him to the bathroom, a mile-wide grin plastered on her face. Spike dipped his head, inhaling the heady scent of her orgasm, and he physically had to restrain himself from going in after her. His eyes followed the Slayer as she disappeared through the crowds. When she was out of his line of sight, he sighed and turned around. Then, he chuckled as he realized how deep in shit he was when Buffy grasped what he'd done to her shirt. He looked back over his shoulder toward her. And he smiled. Buffy walked into the bathroom, fully unable to wipe the smile off of her face. God. If they had been that intense just grinding, would the world implode if they actually had sex? She went to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing the cold water on her face. Okay, make-up was definitely finito. And it figured -- she hadn’t brought her bag to touch up. Glancing in the mirror, she studied her reflection -- and for the first time since Angel had left her alone and bereft, she liked what she saw. Her cheeks were a bit fuller, and were rosy red. Her eyes were glittering and alight with joy. And... Her shirt was covered with cum. She was going to kill Spike if this stained. She shook her head and set about attempting to wash the goop off, thanking the powers for all the glitter and rhinestones covering the actual fabric. It would still be a little crusty, and she probably wouldn't be wearing it for a while -- in fact, she'd probably make Spike buy her a new one -- but it would be fine. What was below the waist, however... Her panties felt too slippery. She turned the tap off and ducked into a stall, shimmying her skirt up and squirming out of her soaked, useless white thong. She laughed softly to herself as she cleaned up her little mess. Wow. The fact that it was Spike that was evoking these feelings in her was no longer an issue. The only thing that mattered was that he could. She hadn’t felt so happy and so relaxed in such a long time and, once again, because of dancing and grinding? With Spike? She was thinking that this was a big yay. Should she curse the Powers, or thank them for getting her involved with Spike? Stupid mystical beings... they always had to complicate things. But if they hadn't, then she probably wouldn't have discovered how many advantages a vampire without a soul could have. Specifically, a vampire that wasn't Angel. Buffy left the restroom, tossing her soiled panties into the trash. Another smile crawled its way onto her face. Complications always made things a lot more fun anyway. Heavy combat boots clomped into the room and Xander froze. Last night at the Bronze had been a step up for him in not picking on the evil, blood-sucking fiend (especially since the puppy had his chompers back). In fact, he’d held himself in check pretty well, even when Spike had joined them at their table at Buffy’s behest. He had to admit, having the vampire there, even if the vampire's attention had been entirely focused too much on Buffy for Xander's liking, had definitely lightened the mood. Xander had even engaged in some pleasant banter with him. That didn’t mean he was going to hand out the invitations and pick out china patterns. Anyway, there was only one person he knew that sounded like that when coming into the room, and he had to steel himself so as not to bitch, lest Buffy followed him in. Surprisingly enough, the owner of the boots was Buffy. Should he be wigged? He couldn't believe that he'd forgotten about the Buffy Anne Summers wall-to-wall Shoe World. The girl had used to live in Los Angeles; she probably had every type of shoe known to mankind just in her closet. However, these, he thought, were new. He didn't remember seeing these on her feet before, and he had that freaked feeling again. The combat boots on her feet all-too-closely resembled Spike’s, but with a skin-tight white T-shirt emblazoned with blue flames and a tight black skirt that reached mid-thigh, however, she was all Buffy. Except for her apparent new love for all things restricting. It seemed that she was taking fashion tips from Spike -- really creepy fashion tips. Xander suppressed his gag reflex as an involuntary picture of Spike walking around in Buffy’s clothes with sunglasses on popped into his head. How disturbing. Maybe the claim was having more of an effect on the Slayer than they’d originally thought. Xander stood up, his finger pointing at her. "My my my! Look who decided to play Anti-Social Girl for the day!" Buffy’s head jerked around, focusing on him, and he shrank back, wiggling his fingers sheepishly. "Please don’t hurt me. Loving the new look, really." Buffy shook her head and turned away again, taking off her sunglasses. "Shut up. FYI, I just wanted to try something new. And I’ve had these clothes for, like, ever, so I figured I’d get some wear into them. Okay?" Xander held both hands up. "Okay, okay, sorry." Buffy frowned, then shrugged. "Whatever." Whoa. Buffy was going back to pre-Slayer, Los Angeles Buffy days. Creepy. Xander shivered. "Hey, Xander, Anya, Buff -- whoa." Dawn bounced into the room from the training room's direction, glancing over her sister’s outfit in awe. "Wow, look at you! All punk-ish and goth-y... now all you need is that dark make-up you always wore when you dated Angel, and you’d actually be cool." Buffy scowled at her sister, but a tiny smile was twitching at the corners of her mouth. "What are you doing here? Did you follow me? Or did Willow teach you teleportation?" Willow’s head poked out of the training room, and she waved meekly. "No teaching of any things magic, Buffy, I swear. I was just coming here and Dawn was walking around, so I brought her with me." Buffy stilled, then looked at the Energy Blob. "You told me you were going to Caitlyn’s. Who, as I happen to recall, lives right down the street from us." She turned back to Willow. "Where was she walking?" The red-head froze up. She felt like her throat had globbed over. "Um... um, she was... just around..." A sleek blonde eyebrow rose up, and Buffy looked wearily at her friend. That whore-bitch Glory she’d encountered had been looking for the Key. Dawn was the Key. What if this woman had found her? From what Buffy had seen of the chick, she had more strength than two Buffys put together. She grabbed Willow’s arms. "Where was she, Will?" Willow took one look at the Slayer and broke down. "She... she was at Spike’s cemetery with him. I’m sorry, so, so sorry!" Buffy felt relief wash over her immediately, and she looked down at the teen, who was glaring at the witch for her betrayal. "You were with Spike?" she asked. Dawn turned to her and nodded meekly. "Yes..." Buffy smiled and nodded. "Okay." She turned toward the training room. Dawn blinked. Willow gaped. Xander choked. Anya pretty much ignored them all. The other three looked at each other, before Dawn raced after her sister, with the two Scoobies on her tail. Catching up to her, Dawn grabbed her shoulder. "You mean, you don’t mind that I was with him?" Buffy turned to her. "No. I don’t. Because I know you’re safe with him." She turned to walk again, but spun back just as quickly. "But I am a little miffed that you lied about where you were going." Dawn pouted. "I’m sorry... I just really wanted to see him. He was so cool about what happened with Tara’s family and everything." Dawn paused, thinking for a moment. "I think I scared him when I showed up. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?" Buffy laughed. "For some reason, little girls have a way of unnerving big manly vampires. You saw how Angel wigged every time he saw you. Don’t know why." She put a hand on Dawn’s shoulder. "Okay, you’re off the hook this time. Don’t do it again... someone could..." Buffy trailed off. Dawn didn't know about Crazy-Chick. Dawn didn't know about the Key. Dawn didn't know that she was said Key, and that Slutbomb 2000 was after her. She reworded herself quickly. "You might scare Mom." The two shared a meaningful look, and Dawn nodded. "I gotcha. Thanks, Buffy." Buffy nodded, touching a lock of Dawn’s hair. "No problem." Dawn grinned giddily, then flounced off to somewhere in the store, most likely to bother Giles. After a brief pause, Xander and Willow walked up to Buffy. Xander had his hand over his face. "Did I just hear what I... thought I heard?" Buffy looked at him, unclasping her skirt to reveal workout shorts underneath. "What would that be?" Xander glanced at her in disbelief. "You? Saying that Dawn was safe with the Evil Dead? Are you nuts? He’s got his fangs back! He could go after Dawn to get to you, and you’re saying that she’s safe with him?!" Buffy turned and glared at him, tying her hair up. "Did you even see how he was with Dawn the day I broke up with Riley? He couldn’t even believe that she liked him! And did you see her just now? Did you see any marks on her? Did you see her shaking, and crying, and, and scared to death?" Xander started to reply, but Buffy cut him off. "No, you didn’t. What, Xander, do you think I’m stupid? That Spike’s claim on me has completely clouded my judgment of him? Because it hasn’t. In fact, with the claim, I’m thinking more clearly than before. Dawn is fine with Spike! She didn’t come back maimed or torn! He wouldn’t hurt her, he wouldn’t do anything cruel to her, and do you know why? Because he cares about her. I know he does. And I know he wouldn’t bring her any harm. I trust him." Xander’s jaw fell open and he stared at Buffy in shock. Willow’s eyebrows had risen up on her forehead, and she stood silently, just watching her two friends. Buffy turned away, slightly more stunned than the others were at her own words. But as she slid her boots off and taped her hands up, she knew the truth, and repeated it with more resolve. She had confidence in him. "I trust him." TBC. As always, thank you, and please review ^_^

Chapter #8 - how do you explain an invisible claim pain?

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part VIII... .:how do you explain an invisible claim pain?:. Xander's mouth was still gaping about five minutes later. "Did I... Did I step into the Twilight Zone or something? Did she really say that she trusted him?" Xander asked, his eyebrows raised, his face holding a look nothing short of confusion. Willow nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, Xander. She did. A-And please don’t go all... um, Psycho on me, but... I think she likes him." She winced when Xander whirled to face her, and put her hands up protectively. "Hey, I said no Psycho! Believe me, I don’t understand it, but I think she likes him, and... and..." she paused before plunging in. "I think it's more than like on his part, too." Xander snorted. "So, what are you saying, Will? That a chipless, soulless, evil vampire is in love with Buffy?" Willow bit her lower lip. Xander’s eyes closed and he grabbed at his stomach, trying to avoid his sudden bout of nausea. "Oh, god." He ran for the door to the cellar, intent on crashing right into the bathroom. Willow waved her hand at his back apologetically. "Sorry!" she called. The door slammed open upstairs, echoing off the walls. Damn it; he had to get a secure bolt for that damn thing. As if it hadn’t been startling enough to finish the work on his shower and walk upstairs, then get scared out of his bloody wits when he found Dawn waiting for him that morning; he didn't want to chance his crypt being intruded on by all manner of beasties hell bent on being the next Big Bad. He growled and put down the hammer he’d found at the dump, opting to carry his chisel with him. It wasn’t a railroad spike – that had stopped being his signature after his first quarter of a century as a vampire – but it would do for now. He sniffed, testing the air around him, but the must and stone dust had thickened the air so much, he couldn’t even tell which nostril was where. So, holding the chisel at his side, he climbed up the ladder. Damn. The must had drifted all the way to the upper level. He looked around. "Who’s here? Show yourself." There was absolutely no response. "I swear, if I find you, they’ll be diggin’ your body up for a millennia! You hear me, you fuckin' prick? Get your ass out here!" Still no response. Suddenly, there was a sharp sting in his torso and Spike dropped the chisel, letting out a small gasp and wincing in pain. He looked down slowly. He didn't know that stakes could be that big. It was protruding from his shoulder; just above his lung, and, thankfully, way off from his heart. The aroma he hadn't been able to identify earlier drifted toward him from the wood and the recognition flared instantly. He growled dangerously. Well, well. If it wasn't Agent Shrink-a-Dick. He turned slowly, being extra careful in case the ass aimed again and got a good shot this time. A feral smiletwisted his lips and he yanked the stake out, ignoring the pain as well as the gaping hole that was bleeding uncontrollably. "Well. Look who got himself a pair of stones," he drawled, tilting his head. The agent's fury flared, recalling the term that Buffy had used when she had broken it off with him. Riley took Spike’s words as his cue to step forward, and did so, armed with a crossbow. "Wish I could say it was good to see you, Spike. But then, it never really is good to see you, is it?" the boy said, drawing himself up straight. Spike raised his eyebrows, thoroughly unimpressed. "Oh, come now. Don’t be so harsh, boy." He jutted out his lower lip at the mortal. "You just might hurt my feelings with those witty barbs." Spike sighed and hooked his thumb in the front of his jeans. "So... what, now? You’re here to fight for Buffy’s honor or somethin’? Cuz I think you’re about ten or twelve centuries too late to apply for the chivalrous knight role." Riley inched closer, grasping his taser with his free hand. He looked completely calm and determined, but Spike could hear the git’s heart beating off the charts. "Shut up, Spike. I’m not here for the small talk. I know you’ve done something to Buffy. Yeah, you claimed her – I know about it, the whole gang does. But you didn’t just claim her, did you? You put some sort of spell on her, a spell to cloud her judgment. You’re a real piece of work, you know that, Spike?" Spike smiled proudly, straightening. "Glad you noticed, mate." He stretched (carefully; that stake wound hurt like a bitch right now), arching his lean, toned body. He glanced down, appraising himself. "I am pretty, aren’t I?" Riley’s disgusted gaze never wavered. "Yeah, Spike. You’re pretty --" Spike's eyebrows raised, and he chuckled, interrupting. "I knew you were a poofter." Riley's scowl deepened, and he continued, like Spike had never spoken. "A pretty big pain in the ass. Stay away from Buffy or I swear to God, I’ll use this," he ground out, holding the crossbow up. Spike smiled coldly, his face shifting into his demon visage. "You do remember that your little metal tinker-toy isn’t in my head anymore, right? An’ that means I can kill you. Do you even know what you’re up against, mate? I’m not afraid of you." Spike advanced on the boy, his white, white teeth glistening. "Not in the least." Without warning, his foot shot out and knocked the crossbow and the taser out of Riley’s grasp. Spike laughed at Riley's startled stare. "Anyone can use a sword or a gun, or a stake to get what they want. 'S not how real men fight, though. You think you’re a real man? Then fight me with your fists, pillock." Riley stared at him stonily, then nodded, getting into a rather amateurish fighting position. "Fine. Let’s fight." Spike growled, an insane grin appearing on his face, and he launched himself at Farmboy. This would be a piece of cake. "Ungh!" Left foot down, right foot in the air. Jump kick. Right foot down, left in the air, this time. Roundhouse. Right hook, left uppercut. Circle around, right jab, left jab, right, right, right, left, right, spin kick. The punching bag flew off of its hook and hit the ground with a thud, the bag splitting open on its side. Buffy’s eyes widened and she winced. "Oops. Sorry, Giles." Giles sighed and stood up from his place in the corner, walking over to her. He put a warm, fatherly hand on her shoulder. "It’s all right, Buffy. I’m sure Xander and I can manage to fix it." They looked down at the bag simultaneously. The sand inside had poured out of the split cloth, and it looked like someone had massacred the Sandman. Giles sighed again, then looked at Buffy. "Any unreleased aggression I should be warned about?" Buffy grinned up at him. "Just a tiny bit," she said. Giles nodded. "Care to explain why?" She peered up at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Just a little annoyed with Xander." A faint smile graced the Watcher’s face. "Ah, yes... I’m all too familiar with that feeling, unfortunately," he said. Buffy laughed, pushing him playfully. "No, that’s different because he’s been annoying to you ever since you met him. This is new for me. Xander’s suddenly decided that Buffy needs psychiatric help all because I’ve decided to trust Spike." Giles’ eyebrows rose in surprise. "I... er... you have?" Buffy glanced at the baffled Watcher, then groaned at the look on his face. "Oh, no... Giles, please don’t get on my case about this. I have a century’s worth of criticism from Xander as it is!" Giles shook his head quickly. "No, Buffy, I, uh... there is no ‘getting on your case.’ I-I’m just a tad surprised. What’s the reason for this?" The Slayer shrugged. "I..." She sighed. "I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. Like you said, no Slayer had ever been claimed by a master vampire before. So the results are all up in the air. Well, I think this is one of those results. Something’s, like... nagging me, telling me that it’s safe with him. That he’d never hurt me, or... or Dawn, or any of us. Well, except maybe Xander. Xander and Spike just like pissing each other off. But... yeah. It’s something I can just... sense, y’know?" Giles nodded, frowning. "I see..." He paused for a moment. "Buffy, I’d like to get you and Spike in the same room together. This is a unique opportunity, and I want to record the full extent of response on your part to Spike’s claim in my journal. But, er... Buffy?" She looked up, a sudden queasy feeling pricking at her stomach. "Yes?" she asked. Giles eyed her closely. "Have you reciprocated the claim?" Buffy shook her head and hid a wince. The queasiness was intensifying rapidly, and now it was starting to hurt. Something was wrong. Spike. "At first, I-I didn’t realize that I had to... I didn’t know he’d done it when he bit me the first time. I figured it out when he bit me again. But no, I haven’t... um... traded bities with him." Giles frowned, and suddenly Buffy really didn’t like the expression on his face. "What?" Giles drew a deep breath. "In order to see the effect of a claim on a Slayer and a master vampire, I... I believe you may have to..." He stopped when he looked at her and noticed the considerably pale look on her face. Her hands were clutched to her stomach, fingers digging into the material of her top. "Buffy?" he queried, alarmed. At first, Buffy didn’t respond, her face contorting in pain from the pangs in her stomach. Then she scrutinized Giles. "Something’s wrong," she mumbled. Giles noticed that despite the immense look of pain on her face, her voice was still strong and clear. Abruptly, she turned and grabbed her skirt, pulling it up over the shorts and around her legs. She slid her feet into her boots and started for the door. "Something is really wrong, Giles." He hurried after her as she ran out, the bell above the door chiming loudly to signal her departure. He lunged for the door, ignoring the confused looks that Anya and the others gave him. "Buffy!" he called. Buffy kept running. "That all you got, White Bread? Come on, now. Give it to me," Spike growled, motioning Riley closer. Bruised and bloody with a swollen eye, the boy complied, aiming a punch at Spike’s injured shoulder. Spike easily deflected it, but punched back with the same arm, forgetting himself. He made contact, capping Riley right in the jaw, but as a result, he’d pulled the torn muscle in his arm out too far. He’d already lost quite a bit of blood from the wound, but it had started to heal during the scuffle. Now, the skin had broken once again, and blood began pouring out, more copiously than before. He let out a weak cry and clasped his arm, closing his eyes in pain. He cursed at himself. Couldn’t have waited till it was healed, could I? Riley saw Spike falter from the wound and took advantage, getting up and plowing his foot into Spike’s stomach. At the vampire’s gasping wheeze, Riley felt encouraged, and began kicking him repetitively. Spike closed his eyes as the steel toe of Riley’s boot once again connected with his midsection. He felt himself being rolled over, and then he felt nothing but absolute agony as Riley’s foot slammed down on his shoulder wound, making the blood spurt out even more. A kick to his head – yet another injury turned bloody. He wrapped his arms around his waist and attempted tofold himself into a fetal position, but Riley shattered the effort. Why wasn’t he fighting back? He could easily destroy the presumptuous little bastard in the blink of an eye, yet here he was, lying on the ground and just praying for the pain to stop. But until now, it hadn't occurred to him exactly how bad the stake wound was, or how much blood he’d actually lost. It wouldn’t kill him, but he was now otherwise incapacitated. And that was something that Finn would take full advantage of. Oh, god, he was going to die. Buffy raced along the streets, stumbling every so often on a dislodged piece of sidewalk or an ousted tree root. The pain in her stomach was getting stronger and more torturous with each step she took. She was about twenty feet away from the entrance to the cemetery, and another fifteen from Spike’s crypt. Would the pain kill her before she made it? Buffy let out a loud cry as a particularly sharp jolt occurred right below her ribs, just above her stomach. She stumbled against a tree, holding on tightly until the pain started to dissipate. What the hell was that? Was this part of the claim? And was it normal for a claim to go this deep? Either way, she definitely knew something was wrong with Spike now. Scrambling against the tree trunk, her head beginning to throb, she fairly shot towards the crypt, thanking the Powers for the preternatural speed given to Slayers. She was gasping for breath from several more abdominal attacks when she got to the door of the crypt, and when she saw what was happening, she lost air altogether. Spike was on the floor, his face bloody, his body coiled into itself. Riley was above him, tormenting him with his taser, kicking him everywhere with his steel-toed boots. From her vantage point behind them, Buffy could see that Spike easily had a dislocated shoulder from this attack, and -- Oh god. Stake wound. Stake wound in the heart area. Left shoulder. Not good. "Spike," she mumbled. She limped forward; god, it was horrifying to think that Riley, of all people, was capable of something like this. Why hadn’t Spike fought him back? From the look of Riley’s face, Spike had really laid into him, but she wasn’t used to seeing Spike down on the ground, getting the absolute hell beaten out of him. Well, unless it was her that was doing the beating. Her gaze narrowed on him again, and suddenly it clicked – he’d lost blood from his wounds. Her heart twisted painfully, and her eyes drifted down his face. His eyes were open, and he was squinting at her weakly; she deduced that he’d heard her whisper his name. She looked up sharply when she saw Riley reach for a stake. Her eyes widened. "Spike! No!" she yelled out, stumbling forward and grabbing Riley by the back of his shirt, then flinging him effortlessly into the wall. He groaned with pain at the impact, then let out a yell as Buffy grabbed him around the neck, slamming him into it again. "You idiot. You stupid, sadistic bastard. Maybe you didn’t get it the first time I said it. I’m pretty sure I told you to stay the hell away from Spike. Now, why could you not understand that?" she asked, her grip squeezing around his neck. Riley wheezed and coughed, trying to answer, but nothing came out. A backhand from Buffy got at least one noise out of him. "I’ve given you plenty of fucking chances to get out with your dick intact, Riley, but you don’t get it. You just don’t fucking understand it!" Her knee came up and delivered a painful kick directly between his legs. Riley’s eyes widened and he emitted an agonized groan, doubling over onto his knees. "Buffy?" he choked out. Buffy glared down at him, then grabbed him up, dragging him out the door. "I want nothing to do with you. Ever again. I don’t know you. If I ever find you even two inches outside of the city limits, I will rip your head off and shove it up your ass." She shoved him out into the graveyard. "Get out of my town." Riley looked up, desperate to plead his case, but was faced with a closed door. Buffy turned and strode quickly to Spike’s side, struggling to pull him up without jarring either of his arms. Wrapping her own arms around his waist, she stood him up and tugged him gently to the sarcophagus. Looking around for some sort of cushioning, she discovered a pillow stashed haphazardly into the corner. Grabbing it, she placed it on the stone, then gently laid Spike’s head down on it. She sat down next to him and gazed at him as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Buffy reached out her hand, touching his face with her nimble little fingers. Spike gave a soft purr and leaned into her touch, his eyes shutting. Her hand moved up, stroking his soft, white-blondelocks. "God, what did he do to you?" she whispered. Spike coughed softly, then turned his head to nuzzle her hand. Considering the pain that was ripping up and down his arms and chest, this felt really good. "You know. You can see." Buffy frowned and he looked up at her. "I’m fine, pet. I’m not as off as I look. Quick healin’ an’ such, though I’m kinda surprised. That bastard did a number on me." Buffy looked to his shoulder. "He tried to stake you," she murmured. Spike yawned slightly. "Operative word bein’ ‘tried.’ As you can see, I’m still here." She managed a tiny smile, then leaned down, resting her forehead against his. "I’m so sorry, Spike. I really am." "An’ if I could move my arms, I’d show you that there’s nothin’ for you to be sorry about. It was my fault, I baited him an’ told him to fight without his toys. Don’t know why it actually sunk into that peanut brittle brain of his," he replied, nuzzling her cheek. This time, Buffy’s smile wasn’t forced. Especially with the way he was rubbing his face against her like a cat. It was cute. "But other than the stake wound and the shoulder thing, you’re fine?" He pulled away and cut off his happy sounds, smiling softly. "Peachy, pet. Just a little winded. Did that great ugly prat play rugby or something?" She raised her eyebrows, ignoring his question. "And I suppose now you’ll tell me that since my ex did this to you, I should play nursemaid?" The smile widened. And then it became a leer. "Well... I wasn’t gonna say as such, but if you really feel the need to go struttin’ about in a nurse’s duds, and play servant girl to my every whim, then--" Buffy scrunched up her nose, swatting his chest. "Oi, watch it! Walkin’ wounded here!" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mr. Walking Wounded. I’m gonna close the door. Just lay back and relax. It’d be beyond bad if a demon walked by and found out that William the Bloody is temporarily down for the count," she said. Spike glared at her, emitting a warning growl low in his throat, before shifting from formidable master vampire to five-year-old child, sticking his tongue out at her. Buffy snorted, shaking her head, and stood, walking to the door of the crypt and pulling it closed. She looked back at him, biting her lower lip. "Do you want some blood?" she asked tentatively, preparing to pull the shirt away from her neck. Apparently, Spike didn't get what she meant to do. "Get me the type O pack, it’s behind the jar and under the AB," he called, surprising her. Wait, he didn’t want to drink from her? Okay, weird... Wouldn’t her blood help him heal faster? And, hey, weirder. She wanted him to bite her. Again. Shrugging it off, she ambled to the mini-fridge, getting out the abnormally large packet of blood. And, since the door to his fridge was open anyway, she did what any woman would do in her man's, um, bachelor pad. She snooped. Not much to go on. Three water bottles in the back. The large jar of pig’s blood that Spike got at the butcher’s. The very rare bags of human blood Spike got as special treats for himself. A couple of bottles of beer, and finally, a half-full plate of buffalo wings, spicy barbecue sauce congealed on top, that he’d most likely taken from the Bronze, the thief. Hesitating, she reached in and grabbed a bottle of water, then took it and the blood baggie over to the sarcophagus. Sitting down again, Buffy gently helped him up and handed him the packet. "Drink up. I’ll have to clean up that stake wound..." she bent her head to look at his other arm and tugged on it gently, wincing when Spike roared in pain. "Sorry, sorry... Okay, relocation is necessary." Spike shot her a glare that basically emphasized any British curse words he could throw at her before his face shifted. Raising his eyes to look at her (which was a bit difficult with his brow ridges dipping over them), he bit into the baggie with relish, happily milking the blood inside for all it was worth. "This ‘nursemaid’ stint's already goin’ to your head, innit?" he asked in amusement. Buffy glared at him and shoved him on to his back, grabbing the bag away and tossing it on the floor. Grasping his shirt at the collar, she jerked, tearing it right down the center and making him jump. He looked up at her with a truly gleeful grin on his face. "Now, Slayer, if you wanted to see me shirtless—" She gave him a warning glare, her hand hovering dangerously over the big hole in his shoulder. "Shut up, Spike. All I’m doing is cleaning this up. That’s it." He sighed, looking at her. "Get the whiskey, then. It’ll clean it up better than the water would." She nodded, then slipped off the tomb to find it, digging around Spike’s various Piles O' Crap – all of which had been found at the junkyard or dump, no doubt. When she finally figured out which of the musty old bottles was the whiskey bottle Spike wanted (after he'd yelled at her twice for attempting to use "the good stuff" - like there was a difference, anyway), she strode back over to him and tore a bit off of his T-shirt, dousing it with the cool liquid. "Hold on to my arm or something -- this is going to hurt like hell," she murmured, lowering the cloth to the raw, bleeding injury. Spike grunted in response, but grabbed onto her with the arm anyway. "Ya think I don’t know that?" Buffy grimaced slightly as the scent of the liquor wafted up, permeating her senses. She tried to ignore it, instead trying to focus on cleaning him up. "Shut up, Spike." She pulled him toward her in a half-hug, barely noticing Spike’s wince when the cloth and the fiery liquid came in contact with his skin. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his head onto her shoulder, jerking slightly as the drops of liquor seeped into the gash. When Buffy pulled the rag away and squirted some water on it, then replaced it on his shoulder, he sighed with relief. The sting of the whiskey wasn't entirely gone, but the coolness of the water helped relieve it a little. Buffy gently pulled away from him, then ripped off another piece, using it as a gauze for the wound. Behold. The Black T-Shirt of Versatility. She squirmed over him until she sat on his other side, then handed him the whiskey bottle. "Drink," was all she said and Spike, though curious, obediently lifted the bottle and gulped down the burning liquid. She lifted her head to look at him. "Do you have anything here, something to use, some wood?" Spike grinned. Buffy instantly scowled and rolled her eyes, despite the fact that her momentary lapse of open-mouth, insert foot had caused a bright blush on her cheeks. "You know what I mean! Is there something here to bite down on? You know, so you don’t bust your teeth when I pop your shoulder back in? Something to distract you?" Spike pondered it, then observed her. "What about you?" he asked, trailing a hand down her arm. "I’m sure you could... easily provide somethin’ to..." he quirked his lips, adding a mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows, "occupy my interest." Against her better judgment, a smile cracked her lips. "And what am I supposed to do exactly?" Spike regarded her innocently. "I'm sure you can think of somethin’." Buffy smirked at him and got up, pulling the rest of his shirt off and shoving it in his mouth. The vampire grunted, scowling at her -- this wasn't the sort of distraction he'd had in mind -- but nonetheless placed a hand on her shoulder. Buffy braced her hand on his chest and grabbed his injured arm with her other hand. She peered at him. "On three?" she asked. Spike nodded curtly and inhaled deeply through his nose before exhaling. Buffy nodded back. "Okay. Ready? One --" Before he could brace himself, she jerked his arm, hearing the bones grind and shift before a loud pop signaled that the joint was back in place. Spike’s howl of displeasure resonated through the crypt, and he ripped the shirt out of his mouth with his free hand, seething. "You bloody great bitch! That fuckin’ hurt!" he yowled. She bit her lip, crawling over to him and touching his cheek gently. "I’m sorry. I had to do that. But hey, at least it’s back in place now. You aren’t walking around, waving a ripped off arm in your other hand are ya?" Spike narrowed his eyes at her words. "Yeah, because it wasn't the Slayer with the extra strength or anythin' that was tryin' to relocate my arm! You'd better watch yourself, you wench -- my arms may be gimp right now, but I can still knock you down to your knees!" Buffy grinned and said her next words before she could stop herself. "Don’t have to knock me down to get me on my knees," she said mischievously. When she realized the words that had fallen from her lips, her hand flew up and clapped down over her mouth, her face turning bright red in anguish. Spike’s eyebrows went up in surprise and he snorted with laughter. Reaching out his arm, he tugged the girl into his lap, wrapping his left arm around her waist and pulling her close. "That so, pet?" He tilted his head down and began kissing her neck. She whimpered and attempted to pull away, thoroughly embarrassed by her big fat mouth. "Care to show me?" he asked, then lunged for her, his lips suctioned firmly over his bite marks. Teasingly, he began to suck slowly and sensually as he slid his hand over her thigh, across her ass (she let out a yelp when he squeezed), up her back. Buffy moaned softly at the sensation and quickly stopped fighting, turning in Spike’s arms and straddling his lap. Moving both hands to her ass, he guided her hips in a gentle rock against his. Pulling his mouth away, he lifted his hand to touch her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her lower lip when she looked at him. Buffy automatically stopped her movements, tilting her head as she gazed at him. Well, damn. She’d just looked in his eyes again. She had to stop doing that. Spike’s eyes had equal power to a thrall, without actually having a thrall, and all he had to do was look at someone. Not that he didn’t already have her under his little spell. Smug, gorgeous bastard. Why couldn’t she do the hypno-thingy with him? He seemed to be just as enthralled with her as she was with him, so how come HypnoEye didn’t work for her? Oh, well. A tiny smile crossed her face and she leaned in, pressing her lips gently to his. She couldn’t resist. His soft pink mouth, with the full, pouty lower lip looked way too yummy to ignore. He drove her crazy when he pouted at her – half the time she was trying to resist from pouncing on him right in the middle of a conversation [read: argument], just to make out with him. Soft, pink, pouty lower lips on tall, pale, yet incredibly hot vampires were a dangerous combination. Spike smiled under her mouth and tugged her closer, kissing her back feverishly. Such a little vixen. Truth to tell, he hadn’t expected that kiss. He’d figured she was still a little embarrassed about her little ‘down on my knees’ slip. The genuine affection he’d seen in her eyes and on her face when she’d smiled at him had startled him in the best way. Was she falling for him? "Oh, luv," he murmured softly, his fist running through her hair and convulsively clutching at the blonde locks, his lips nibbling and seeking something from hers with soft, sweet, chaste kisses. Her hands moved up and cupped either side of his face, drawing him closer to her, to feel his lips against hers even more. And finally, when she had to breathe, she pulled away and rested her head in the crook of his neck, her nose nuzzling the strong muscles in his throat. His eyes closed and he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the sweet lavender scent decorating the tresses. Actually, it’d be better to stop doing that. The scent was having a positive effect on him in the most physical sense, and this was a bit of a tender moment. He was not going to ruin it. His arms closed tightly around her, hugging her close. Buffy breathed softly, running her fingers up and down the hard, corded muscles in his back. "Spike," she sighed, snuggling contentedly against him. She was happy. She was actually happy. How many times had that not happened to her in the past five years? Spike looked down at the tiny woman in his arms in surprise. If she'd been anymore relaxed, she’d be purring in pleasure. Which wasn’t that bad of a thought... The Slayer purring for him was a really good thought that could lead to the beginning of one hell of a fun night... Stop thinking with your dick, you git. Romantic moment an’ all that, don’t you fuckin’ ruin it! The Slayer’s havin’ a snuggle with you. Not Finn, not Peaches, not the whelp -- you. Get your brain out from between your legs! Strangely enough, talking to himself seemed to do the trick sometimes. As weird as it seemed. "I don’t want to move," he heard the Slayer whisper, and pulled her more protectively into his embrace. "I don’t want you to, either. I like you here," he murmured. Buffy pulled her head up and smiled brilliantly at him, and he could swear his heart gave a beat. "I have to, though," she said, attempting to squirm off of his lap. Spike let out a little petulant growl, pulling her back down. Buffy paused and stared at him, then grinned. "We need to leave, Spike. Giles wants to do a study on us. He’ll be pretty renowned for being the only Watcher that has a complete account on the claiming rites between a Slayer and a vampire." Spike snorted, completely uncaring. "And?" The normally not-there end to the word came out hard and annoyed. "I’m supposed to be dazzled by this? Rupert wants to write out a review of me for those Council wankers just because I’ve claimed his Slayer?" Buffy frowned at him. "No. Well... yes, I guess. I mean, according to him, you're the only vampire in history that's gotten away with claiming a Slayer, so it's got to be a little about us, at least. But it’s not going to be about you and me altogether. He just wants to observe us and figure out the effects of a vampire’s claim on a Slayer. It’ll have nothing about either of us mentioned. What, you think Giles likes those bastards in England? He hates them almost as much as I do." Spike rolled his eyes and Buffy sighed. "Spike, on my eighteenth birthday, the Council attempted the Cruciamentum on me. They basically wanted to lock me in a room with a psycho vamp, with none of my powers, and they expected me to survive. Obviously I did, because, hey," she gestured. "Standing right here. But what that bastard Travers didn't tell us was that it was a test more for Giles, not me. Giles told me about the Cruciamentum, so it would nullify the test, but because he did that, he failed his own test." Spike glanced up at her, frowning. She nodded slowly. "Spike, they fired Giles because he didn't act in the vein of a Watcher -- he acted in the vein of my father. They fired him because he cared for me like a father does." Spike growled. "Those soddin' bastards. I oughta --" Buffy laughed. "Is the protective stream coming out for Giles because the Council fired him, or for me because of the not-so-fun test I still had to take?" He stopped, furrowing his brows. "Both. Maybe. Wait, you still had to take it?" She nodded. "Yup," she said, popping the 'p'. "The vamp they set me up against, Kralik? Apparently he had a thing for moms. And he escaped... and came for my mom. I had to get back into that warehouse to stop him and save her. Tricked him into swallowing a glass of Holy Water. This happened after you came back the second time. You know, when Dru dumped you for the --" "Hey!" Buffy grinned and shook her head. "Anyway. Do you get where I'm coming from now, though? Giles won't give you away to the Council. I think he’s figured out that there won’t be any co-op from you if he mentions anything about your life anyway." She tilted her head. "Why do you hate talking about Pre-Vamp Post-Vamp so much?" Spike shrugged. "Most of what I’ve done after Dru Sired me... It’s already been written down somewhere in those bloody journals. An’ the only person allowed to know ‘bout me before I was Sired is me. It’s private, an’ it’s the past. I want to leave it behind. That good ‘nough for you?" Buffy sighed. "I guess. Anyway, get up. I need to make a sling for you till your arm heals. Then we’ll leave." Spike smirked as she turned away, saluting her in the most unconventional way, accompanied with a leer as he stood up. "Yes, ma’am!" She turned and grinned at him. "Shut up, Spike." "That’s all you've got?" "Well, as a matter of fact, Xander, yes, that is all I have, considering she ran out of here like a hellion was after her without stopping for one second longer to tell me what was going on." Xander didn’t look convinced. "Giles, Buffy wouldn’t run from a hellion." Giles sighed, rubbing his eyes. God, he was ready to strangle the boy. "Yes, that is true, Xander. However, I still don’t know why she ran out. Now kindly back off?" Xander sheepishly moved out of the Watcher’s way, sitting down at the table. As Anya walked by, Giles began reshelving the Menkhari root water, setting them down next to the Abrigan baboon’s feet. Anya paused momentarily to observe him, and her eyes widened when it registered what two things he was putting together. When he turned away, she ran for the products, looking around wildly and pushing the water away. However, she accidentally knocked one of the glass bottles over, spilling the root water that was inside of it. She winced as a loud pop permeated the air, and a baboon’s foot shattered, pieces flying onto the meeting table. Giles spun around in alarm, looking questioningly at his employee. "What on earth was that?" he queried, his brow creasing. Anya shrugged and pointed at him. "You put the root water and the baboon’s feet together like a complete idiot. Don’t look at me," she said, then turned back toward the cash register, grabbing a few sales slips. Giles frowned as he stared after her, then shook his head, walking back to the table. Willow and Tara, clearing off the remnants of the baboon's foot and discussing one of their classes (and Buffy’s newest foe when Giles was watching), looked up when the Watcher approached. Willow grinned slightly as she looked at his face - a rain cloud must have lost its way and settled on his brow. She cocked her head. "What is it, Giles?" The Watcher shook his head, frowning. "What? Oh... oh, it’s nothing. It’s just..." He turned to look at the witches. "Buffy’s been gone an awful long while now. I suppose I’m just a bit worried about her, that’s all. I shouldn’t be, I know. She can take care of herself. But she seemed... so unsettled earlier, before she left." Willow grinned. "Awww, Giles is being the Worried Daddy. How sweet!" Giles managed a wry smile. "Yes, I am. I can’t help it," he said, turning away and tinkered with the Tibetan lobeman reeds. "She does that to me." Willow looked on sympathetically, then jumped nearly fifty feet as the Slayer crashed right through the door, a dark-haired vampire attacking her. The blonde kicked at the fledgling’s stomach, shoving him up off of her and tossing him in the air. Anya was freaking out. "Not in the store, not in the store! You’re gonna wish I was still a vengeance demon from what I’d do to you if you break anything!" Both Slayer and vampire ignored the frenzied ex-demon, continuing on with the fight. A few quick kicks to the midsection, then a kick between the legs, and Stinky was ready for dusting. However... "Damn it, someone throw me a stake!" the Slayer hollered. Xander jumped to attention and flung a stake toward her. Almost like magic, the stake glided right to Buffy’s hand, and her arm swung down, embedding the wood into the vampire’s back. A puff of dust, and the mini-war was over. Buffy didn’t stay for long, though, running back outside and cutting off everyone’s congratulatory praises. She rounded the corner of the Magic Box and ducked into the alley, dropping to her knees to haul up a blonde head that was resting on the ground. "Spike," she murmured, pulling his head into her lap and looking over him. "God, are you okay?" she asked, tenderly rubbing the gash in his left shoulder through his new shirt and duster. Spike grunted at the words and made an attempt to sit up by himself. His arm flailed and he grabbed a hold of Buffy, pulling her head down. She looked down, mildly amused. "Was that accidental or on purpose? Or perhaps accidentally-on-purpose?" Spike grinned. "Depends, luv." "On what?" Spike lifted his head up to peer into her eyes. "Oh. Just this." He pressed his lips gently to hers, his silky, cool tongue slipping out and lapping at her lower lip. Buffy giggled and pulled away. She stood and gently tugged him up, slipping an arm around his waist. Thank God he was injured. If she walked into the shop like this with him any other day, the Magic Box would have transformed into a zoo from all the noises and the ‘what-the-hell-are-you-doings’ that would be thrown at her. Slowly, they made their way into the shop. Surprisingly, Giles was the first to comment. "Good lord, what happened?" Then Tara, Anya, Willow and Dawn rushed her. Willow and Tara each grabbed one of Spike's arms to relieve Buffy of his load and helped him to the table while Anya and Dawn followed behind quickly, both girls entirely too intrigued in his injuries. "Oh my god, Spike? Are you okay?" the youngest Summers gasped, wide-eyed. "Was it demons?" Willow questioned, biting her lower lip. "Was it that demon lady that Buffy’s been fighting, Glory?" Spike’s blue-eyed gaze rested on the Slayer’s little family in disbelief. He shook his head, nearly laughing. He really had to find whatever it was that these gits were on and take a hit of it himself. It still wasn't registering with them that he wasn't chipped - or that they never gave a shit before. Why was it that when he was harmless, he was still the big evil, not to be trusted, but as soon as he was chipless, everyone was rushing over to him, eager to help? Did these people have a lick of sense in their heads? At all? "Riley attacked him," Buffy stated quietly, causing all eyes to turn to her. She folded her arms and sighed. "When I ran out, I went to his crypt, and there was Riley. Torturing him." She said the words with an air of utter disgust. "From what I saw, Riley dislocated his shoulder, and tried to stake him, twice. He missed the first time, but if I hadn't been there the second time..." "And you stopped him?" Xander scoffed quietly (but not quietly enough for Spike’s hearing not to catch what was said). The blonde vampire turned his head slowly in Xander's direction, giving a low, threatening growl. "Watch. Your. Mouth. Mate," he snarled softly, flecks of yellow rippling through his eyes. At the reminder that Spike was no longer one of Buffy's training dummies anymore, Xander wisely shut up. And stayed shut up. Buffy, who had turned to glare at Xander when she heard Spike's growl, finally tore her gaze away from Xander and her lo -- well... her lover. "Anyway, that’s all you need to know, really. Um, Giles, Spike’s agreed to the observing thingy. Is there anything particular that we need to do? Interaction with each other, fighting, body language, what?" Giles looked at his charge rather sheepishly. "Er, yes, there is. I attempted to tell you, but you ran out before I could finish. Ah, so I may record all findings correctly, it would probably be best if you were to... ah... oh, dear." Giles couldn’t finish his thoughts, but Spike seemed to be reading them. He stared at the man incredulously. "I’m not gonna let her bite me so you can do your little study, mate. A claim is sacred, intimate. You think I’m gonna make her do it with all you gits standing out here an’ gawkin’ at her like some sorta freak? Bugger that, Watcher." Buffy looked toward Giles, disturbed. "You want me to bite him?!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed. Giles sighed. "Well, as I said, it would only be for the best recordings... however, I obviously didn’t think this through. This would link you to him forever – there would be no way to cancel the claim and separate you from him. We can’t have that at all." A snort from Spike, which was ultimately ignored by the Watcher. "I suppose we’ll just have to make do with Spike’s side of the claim for now. If anything would show up." Spike rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and chuckling at the sheer stupidity of it all. Rupert was a brilliant man – he really was – but sometimes he was just so bloody dense... "Eh, mate? I‘m just tossin’ my two cents in here ... but just how the bloody hell do you think Buffy knew about me an’ her ex grapplin’? Psychic powers and that whole bloody lot?" Giles paused, frowned, and took off his glasses. Then he glanced at Spike. His gaze slowly moved towards Buffy. Then once again back to Spike. Realization dawned on him and he sighed. "Bloody hell." TBC. Please continue to review; those are what keep me going ^_^

Chapter #9 - happy fairytale go boom

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part IX... .:happy fairytale go boom:. "I'm gonna kill him." Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, you're not. You're just moody because he can actually threaten to make you sit still for long periods of time. Attention Deficit Disorder, my ass." Spike grinned for a moment. "And what a nice ass it is, too." He shook his head and growled, then, the smile leaving his face. "All the bloody same, though. I hate your fuckin' watcher, Buffy!" The declaration was punctuated by Spike slamming his fist into the wall. "He's kept me here for three days straight, it's a bleedin' wonder I didn't eat him yet!" She hoisted herself up onto the pommel horse and looked at him seriously. "Spike, it's just for another day. I don't think Giles is getting everything he wanted. All he has on this is my reaction to you being in danger or pain. That and those weird glinties you get when you hear me walking in." He frowned. "When was that?" he asked, eyeing her curiously from his position against the wall. Buffy shrugged. "Day two. I came in with Willow after classes, and Giles said your eyes started glowing." Spike raised his eyebrows at her, sufficiently stunned. Then his brow furrowed and he looked thoughtful. "Where the bloody hell was I? I wanna see that," he grumbled. Buffy rolled her eyes at him and shifted on the pommel horse, straddling it and pushing herself up with her hands. "Honey, you don't have a reflection, so you can't see the glinties. Now stop whining and spot me," she commanded, twisting and grabbing the handles firmly. Spike pushed off from the wall, pulling a box of Marlboros out of his duster pocket. He winced slightly as he slid his right arm out of the sleeve, then tossed the heavy leather coat onto the dummy in the corner. The dislocated shoulder hadn't taken long to heal since Buffy had popped it right back into it's socket, but it still hurt like a bitch to move it, not to mention the stake wound that was still gaping slightly. Slipping his Zippo out of his jeans' pocket, he lit up, then tossed the box onto a chair. Cocking his head, he took in the curve of Buffy's lower back, and spoke as she brought her legs over her head, doing a handstand. "Are you sure you want me in here while you do that?" Buffy lifted her head slightly in acknowledgement and grinned. "Well, it depends whether or not you can keep your hands to yourself." Spike raised his eyebrow, following her body with his eyes until his face appeared to have become much like the woman-loving wolf from the Looney Tunes cartoons -- lolling tongue, wicked leer and all. "Uh... definitely can't promise that." Buffy laughed, her eyes inviting him closer. "Are you gonna watch me or what? Cuz if you’re not, I could get Xander in here... I’m sure he’d be happy to do it." Spike scowled, growling softly at her. "Oh, I’m watchin’, luv. An’ if you even joke about bringin’ that git in, I’ll..." He trailed off of the grouse, inwardly imagining ways to torture Xander. Buffy somehow sensed his thoughts and gave him a Look, complete with the scowly eyes. "You’ll what?" Spike moved closer and kicked the pommel horse, making her lose her balance. She yelped as she dropped and Spike grabbed her before she hit the floor, pulling her up, her back against him. Placing his hands on her hips, he softly kissed the shell of her ear and murmured, "I’ll do somethin’ not nice, pet. You have to remember..." His left hand ran up her side to cup one small, firm breast and squeezed gently, pressing himself full against her ass. His parts responded correctly to the sound of the soft, arousing gasp she gave. He bent forward slightly, his lips grazing her earlobe. "I’m a very... very... bad man." Buffy sighed softly and leaned into him, her eyes closing as she tucked her head gently into the curve of his neck. Feels good... floated through her passive mind. His arms curled around her waist, and his lips softly kissed a path down her neck. Soothingly, he pressed his mouth against her jaw and chin. Buffy turned her head toward his and stared into his eyes, smiling as flashes of gold and silver rippled past, causing the deep, stormy blue to almost shimmer like a pool of water. Her hand moved up to touch his face, her thumb tracing his strong jaw. "You have the glowy eyes again," she murmured, her voice sounding like the voice of a sleepy child. Spike smiled and bent his head, touching his lips softly to hers. God, this was nice. He didn’t know what it was about finally giving in to his attraction to Buffy, but he was pretty sure that it had something partly to do with the fact that she wasn’t kicking him in the nuts and tossing him out in the sun. It couldn’t be just that, though. Tender was good. Tender was nice. Tender soothed the savage Buffy Beast from emerging and kicking the hell out of him. But at the moment, tender also meant that... it meant that Buffy was falling for him. Buffy... was falling for him. Finally. Dru had never liked tender. She didn’t like cuddling. She preferred to be coddled, or pet, like a prize cat. And in bed, she was all for the kinky. Kinky was good. Yay, kinky. In fact, from the time Spike had been Sired by his mad ex-lover to the time that Darla had finally left to rejoin the Master, Spike and Dru had thoroughly used any means necessary to fulfill any and all sexual interests that were beyond the norm. Dru really could be quite creative when she wanted to be. Chains had become a constant when Angelus had taken his Childer back to Ireland. He’d killed off the owners of a castle, and while he’d been off searching out their wealth and looking for more victims, Drusilla had sniffed her way to a dungeon. That first night had proven to find a great deal of fun toys, and Spike had woken up from an already arousing sleep, to a more titillating surprise. Harmony had been the same -- obviously, though, to a much lesser degree than Drusilla. No chains or shackles were ever present -- she used silk scarves and the like from what she’d take at that stupid shop named after the jokers' holiday. He had to admit, the scarves felt better on the wrists than the manacles did, and Harmony was sweet in bed, in her own little way -- Spike guessed that she’d been turned as a virgin -- but she lacked the creativity that Drusilla had had. He was beginning to prefer it that Buffy had no experience with bondage. Maybe he could introduce it to her -- slowly. He winced inwardly as he remembered her first two introductions to his handcuffs around a month or two earlier. He really did have to learn to be more subtle and sensitive to her. She was probably a virtuous princess, thanks to Peaches and Commando Boy. He was sure he could bring out her wild side. Hell, he’d already started. At the moment, though, with her soft, strawberry-flavored lips on his, kissing him back so incredibly sweetly, he was beginning to think that bondage and wild, rushed fucking was overrated. He grunted softly as he heard a creak come from the other side of the store outside the door. Sniffing, he scented Giles’ approach, and pulled away gently, giving Buffy a pointed Look. One that pretty much said, "Oh, balls," but nonetheless warned her of uninvited guests. Buffy pouted and pulled away reluctantly, returning to her stretches while Spike looked down and around himself, searching for his suddenly-missing cigarette. He rolled his eyes as he discovered it, mashed into the floor and completely, utterly useless. It figured; he must have dropped it while he’d been making smoochies with Buffy, then trampled it while he’d pulled away. He was lucky the damn training area hadn’t caught fire from the tip or anything. Grumbling, he stalked over to his chair and grabbed the pack out of his duster pocket. Snatching another cigarette out, he flipped out his Zippo and lit up as he walked over to the other side of the horse, scrutinizing the tiny Slayer as she balanced on one arm on the beam. The door opened and Giles walked through; Buffy’s eyes shot open, widening and darting to Spike. He made a shrugging gesture and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Bloody uninvited guests." Buffy grinned; Spike really did have good timing. "Ah, Buffy... you’re training? With Spike?" The Watcher fought to keep a pout off of his face. He was an Englishman, damn it; Englishmen, especially one as distinguished as he was, did not pout. Buffy pivoted herself carefully, managing to keep her position and not fall over. "Not exactly. Just a little prepping, you know, stretches, warm-up, whatever. Spike’s spotting me," she replied. Spike took that as a cue to move forward. He was being extremely audacious doing what he was doing in front of the chit’s Watcher, but he figured it would get in a good laugh for later. He put one hand on her pelvis, and the other on her ass, righting her and lifting her down. Buffy realized what he was doing too late and could barely keep herself from giggling out loud as she turned to face Giles. Spike’s fingers ran over her cotton-covered ass, wedging between her legs as she made an attempt to talk with Giles. She squirmed slightly, moving her arm behind her and swatting his hand away. "Um, Giles, if you, uh... don’t! Don’t mind, um, maybeeee! Spike could do the, uh... the, um..." Now she couldn’t stop from giggling -- Spike had ceased with the hanky-panky and was currently digging his fingers into her sides, looking for ticklish spots. She batted him away from her, giggling, and covered her eyes with one hand. Pointed to Spike with the other, she whined, "Giles, make him stop!" Giles grumbled under his breath and frowned at the vampire. "Spike, please try to be more professional. This is hardly the time for you to be in one of your... hyperactive stages." Their interactions with each other were getting more and more disturbing. "Hyperactive my ass. Horny’s more like," the vampire muttered under his breath. Buffy pressed her lips together, forcing the stupid grin off of her face, and pulled herself together until she could talk again. "Uh, like I was saying. Maybe Spike should train with me just this once. I’m gonna end up killing you if I give you another backflip-roundhouse combo like last time. And this way, you can take more notes on us, and our interactions and stuff." Giles grimaced slightly, but he knew Buffy would continue pressing until she got what she wanted. So... he nodded. "All right," he mumbled, relinquishing the punching bag title to Spike -- who in all truth, should have had it to begin with. He’d been Buffy’s punching bag for quite sometime now, and Buffy would take her frustrations out on Spike, more than she would on her own Watcher. He just didn’t know exactly which frustrations she took out on the vampire. Spike turned toward her. "All right. Flip me. Just use one foot. Come at me with a front flip, stay in the arched position and hook your right foot under me, then heft me up." Buffy gave him an odd look, but shrugged. Suddenly Spike felt a swift kick to his stomach, and as he was doubled over, he sensed a delicate leg between his and let out a yell as he was hoisted up and slammed into a training room wall. Sliding down, he groaned in pain, then twisted, trying to pull himself up. His eyes lifted to look at the Slayer, who was raising her eyebrows at him, her hands on her hips. "What? You told me to flip you -- I did. You never said anything about not using any other technique." Spike glared at her and grunted. He pulled himself up, saying, "Cute, Slayer, real cute. Aren’t you just the little smartass." Buffy nodded, beaming. "Yes! I am!" Spike narrowed his eyes at the Slayer and leaned in, his face so close that they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Just be glad that I don’t seem to have the urge to snap your neck anymore, luv," he muttered in a low voice. Buffy tilted her head to the side and folded her arms, the grin still firmly in place. Giles, who seemed to have been forgotten in the last three minutes, watched the pair very closely and noted, with surprise and no small amount of alarm, the identical gold flashes that appeared in both of their eyes. He furrowed his brow and made a note in his journal, then observed the warriors quietly. Spike was quick to realize that he and Buffy were just standing there, ogling each other, and that the Watcher was still in the room... watching them (and didn’t they have the most awful habit of actually watching their Slayers?). He straightened and backed away. A silent communication passed from him to her, then Spike abruptly lashed out, capping the Slayer in the jaw. Buffy stood still for a moment, testing the momentum of the blow, then returned a punch of equal strength, striking the vampire in the side of his head. Spike paused, feeling the familiar surge of power run through him at the prospect of fighting her, then shook his head, his eyes glowing a blindingly bright yellow as his human face faded into his demon countenance. Leering at the Slayer, he growled, and his lips curled up over his fangs in an evil smirk. Then he lunged. Buffy gave a grunt of surprise, nearly getting knocked off of her feet from Spike’s attack. She thrust forward, head-butting him in the chest. As soon as he was propelled away from her, she flew at him, performing a spin-kick to his head. Spike roared and grabbed her foot, shoving her back. Buffy hit the ground and groaned as Spike pounced on top of her. Fists met her face with hit after hit, and after a moment, she snapped back to reality, realizing that Spike was straddling her breasts. She snorted mentally. He is such a perv. She was entirely positive that if Giles hadn’t been in the room with them, Spike would be -- well, they wouldn't be fighting, that was for sure. Typical Spike behavior. But Spike was enjoying this way too much. A smile of unadulterated bliss was on his vampy face, and every punch he was able to lock in was made with great flourish. Buffy managed to snap out of her mini-daze and dragged her arm up, snapping it across his jaw. Spike snarled and dropped back, his head hitting the floor as Buffy switched their positions. Sitting on his stomach, she dug her knees into his sides and punched his nose. Giles was worried. He knew that Buffy enjoyed her fighting, especially when it was Spike who she was fighting with -- there was no doubt about it. In fact, noting Buffy’s ecstasy when fighting Spike had become a normal occurrence in the group. It was just the arousal and lust that was so plainly apparent on both their faces right now that disturbed him. Normally, Buffy had a look of complete determination when she was sparring. At the moment, both she and her counterpart had gotten to their feet, and Buffy was battling him across the room with a dagger she’d snatched from a wall mount, delivering quite a few perfect hand flips and snap kicks. That was generally a good thing, as Giles had rarely ever seen her let go so easily and be so fluid and focused with her brawling. She was pretty much wiping the floor with Spike, and once again, that was a good thing. Except, this time she had a huge smile plastered on her face and her green eyes were unusually bright. Not to mention that fact that Spike seemed more than happy having his ass handed to him. Yeah, he was definitely disturbed. "Had enough, baby?" Spike growled, grabbing her arm with one hand and wrapping the other around her waist. Jerking her back side against his front, he ran his hand -- the one blocked from the Watcher’s line of sight -- straight down the Slayer’s body, cupping her ass. Buffy shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment, then discreetly pushed him away, spinning out of his grasp. Doing a no-hands back flip, her legs swung up with her, colliding with his face and sending him flying back. He smacked against the wall and groaned as he slid to the ground. Buffy gasped for breath as she landed on her feet. She tossed her hair back, gasping. "Not yet, Spike." An enormous smile overtook Spike’s face and he leapt up, running for her. Swooping her up, he chuckled menacingly when she unintentionally let out a small shriek as he pinned her up to a wall. Pulling back, he hauled off, hitting her cheek hard, then hit her again before she could retaliate. This time, Buffy head butted him and pushed him away, dropping to her feet. Spinning, she lifted her leg and kicked him, then flowed directly into a roundhouse, combined with an uppercut in an adaptation of the move she had mentioned to Giles earlier. All was followed by a barrage of punches, and Spike suddenly found himself on his back on the ground, with Buffy sitting on him. Oh, this could be a bad position to be in, considering that the Watcher was still in the room with them, and had access to a countless number of weapons. He could feel his lower half jump in response to the heat flowing from her own crotch. "Had enough, Spike?" she asked, extending her hand. Spike clasped it, then yanked her down on top of him. Her hand remained clutched in his, squished in between their bodies. "Not even close to it, luv," he murmured in a husky voice. He felt a tremor go through the Slayer’s tiny body, and his nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal doubled all at once. Okay, this was not doing his cock much good. At this rate, his balls were gonna burst, and he’s be useless till next Tuesday. Right, that was that, then. He had to get her out of here. Buffy pulled herself up, then tugged Spike up by their still-attached fists, clearly thinking the same thing. She eyed him hungrily, her lust all too evident, and she chewed lightly on her lower lip before dropping his hand and turning quickly to Giles. "Uh, Spike and I should probably... patrol. You know, check and see if there’s any action or... something from that hellbitch that’s looking for... for Dawnie." Giles looked up in alarm, eyeing Spike. "Buffy, don’t you, ah, mean --" "I told him, Giles. He knows," she interrupted. The Watcher glanced back and forth wearily between the two blondes. "He knows?" Spike nodded his head in confirmation, then shrugged. "I know." Giles scowled. Well, damn. He wished Buffy had told him about this sooner. "What, er... possessed you to tell him?" he asked uncertainly, not holding his footing too well with his words. Buffy looked at him, then looked at Spike, shrugging. She replied, simply, "I trust him." Spike’s head shot up, and he stared long and hard at the Slayer. She looked at him meaningfully, a barely perceptible twitch of a smile gracing her face. Oh. Just give him a bed, some cuffs, whipped cream, wine, and about ten hours, and he’d show her just what he thought of that. As it was, he was fully prepared to fuck her right into the ground. Giles eyed the vampire, and bristled slightly at the look on his face. This entire situation was making him nervous. But what he absolutely hated was that he could voice his opinion about Buffy and Spike and their new-found... attachment to each other all he wanted, and Buffy would ignore every single word coming out of his mouth. Spike would tease and hassle him about it. Both Slayer and Vampire were so damn bullheaded that any warnings Giles issued would be neglected entirely. Which meant that... He could do absolutely nothing. He sighed and nodded, feeling a sudden lack of energy to argue with his Slayer, and being very much in need of a large amount of Scotch. "Go on, Buffy. Please remember to check in if you come across anything out of the ordinary." Buffy nodded quickly. "Yup, you got it, Giles. Check-In Girl, that’s me!" She gave a shrill giggle as she started for the door. Spike followed her promptly, nodding his head at the Watcher. "Later, Rupert," he muttered, stalking out the door. Giles crossed his arms and waited. A second later, Spike sheepishly poked his head back in, grabbed his duster and cigarettes, then walked back out without a second look. Giles sighed. "Buffy, where ya going? And -- hey, why’s he going with?" Xander queried. He was about as nervous as Giles was about the situation between those two. It took almost everything Buffy had in her not to turn around and say, "Because he's not going to scream and run like a ten-year-old girl, and there's more of a chance that I can jump him when you aren't around." But then she thought of the look of stark terror that she would probably see in Xander's eyes -- either that, or utter hatred -- and forced herself to be nice. She turned and looked at Xander with wide, innocent eyes as Spike brushed past her and waited at the door, giving Xander an insolent glare. "Oh, we’re just going for patrol, that’s all. Take care of Dawnie for me?" she asked. Willow nodded. "Of course, Buffy. She’s safe here, snug as a bug in a rug," the Wicca quipped, grinning. Buffy smiled back in relief. "Good, great. Thanks, guys. I should be back around..." her eyes strayed to Spike for confirmation. "Midnight." He nodded discreetly. "Okay, ah... where is Dawn?" she asked, looking around. Xander raised his hand. "Anya conned her into doing some inventory with her. I don’t know how, please don’t ask." Buffy nodded. "Gotcha. Well. Okay. Leaving now. For patrol," she said, an enormous grin on her face. She strode out the door and Spike nodded to the girls, then smirked at Xander, offering him the one-fingered salute. He rushed after Buffy. Xander watched the hurried exit, then turned to Willow. "They’re going to patrol, right? Please tell me they’re going to patrol?" Willow just looked at him. Running halfway down the street, Buffy suddenly turned and yanked Spike into a darkened alley, pinning him to a wall and mashing her lips to his. Spike responded in kind, his hands grabbing at every possible part of her. His kisses could have bruised her, but right now, she all but gave a damn. Not touching him was driving her absolutely crazy. Spike had never wanted someone so much in his life. Her arousal was flaring and any second now, he was gonna rip every single shred of clothing off of her, to hell with decency. His cock was going to combust in a nanosecond, damn it! His hands roved over her taut body, cupping her breasts and palming them roughly. A passionate moan rumbled past Buffy’s lips into Spike’s mouth, and he attempted to hoist her up, but she resisted, pulling away. Spike was confused, for obvious reasons, and the Look he gave Buffy voiced his hurt and unspoken complaint. Her response was much more than he anticipated. His shirt was a button-up, which was probably a good thing as he thought back on it, since Buffy seemed hell-bent on ripping and destroying his clothes. True to form, Buffy gripped the collar of the silky black shirt and jerked it apart, the buttons snapping right off and flying in every which direction. Spike’s eyes widened, and he made an attempt to speak that never made it past his lips, but damned if he didn't love this aggressive side of his Slayer. Buffy’s mouth descended on his chest, licking and kissing her way to his nipples. Her nimble little tongue swirled around the right nipple before her mouth fixed itself over it. She began to suck. Spike’s head rolled back and smacked the wall, moaning low. Her hot little mouth was so much better than he’d even imagined. "Buffy," he mumbled softly, his eyes shutting. He groaned when Buffy replied with a bite to the nipple. His hand moved up to clutch the back of her head and he pressed himself against her. Buffy gasped, a dinging sound coming from somewhere inside her head when she felt the bulge in Spike’s pants poke into her stomach, then harden further. Okay -- now she was curious. What exactly did he have in there? She’d only actually seen two male... parts in her life. Parker’s was slightly above average length by maybe a quarter of an inch, and Riley had the regular, proper one that most men had. Nothing to brag about, and certainly not at all spectacular. She’d never even gotten a good look at Angel’s, since they’d only been together that one night. They’d only made love once, before her utter exhaustion had consumed her, and she had passed out, only to wake up to the horror that become her life. Spike was just rubbing against her at the moment, and she was getting the impression that he had a few eighty pound boulders in there. Time to find out. Her hand moved down between them, and she grabbed the button clasp, pulling it open. Her fingers grasped the zipper as her lips moved up to suck on his neck. Spike wasn’t reacting to anything she was doing, so he really must’ve been out of it. Zipper slid down, pants opened, and suddenly there was something really hard... really long... and really pointy stabbing her stomach. Buffy pulled back and Spike stared at her with a glazed expression in his eyes. The Slayer looked down. She certainly felt safe saying that Spike was above average - in every possible way. She looked back up at Spike, an awed expression on her face. Spike stared back at her, licking his lips, and suddenly he couldn’t resist. He pulled her to him and mashed his lips to hers. Buffy moaned and kissed him back, clutching at him frantically as both bodies began to rock accordingly to their positions. Spike ground his newly bared cock against her mound, thrusting as hard as he could as Buffy pulled her lips away, kissing and licking his neck. Her tongue slid in a straight path down his smooth white chest, then through the soft hair below his navel and the courser hair surrounding the base of his cock. And wasn’t it lovely, standing straight up, ivory and mahogany, looking like a new tower standing amidst the rubble of an old one. She trailed her tongue up the shaft before allowing her lips the pleasure of engulfing the head. Spike’s eyes promptly rolled back and he cried out, his head falling back and repeatedly smacking against the wall. His hands shot toward Buffy’s head, his long, slender fingers twisting and entangling themselves in her blonde curls. Buffy pushed forward, beginning to bob her head, her mouth forming a tight suction around the whole of his cock. Damn -- and he’d thought her mouth on his chest was heaven! It was odd -- he’d always had some sort of attraction to her. The first time he’d seen her, he’d been simply enthralled. The way she moved was unlike that of any of the Slayers he’d ever encountered. Buffy was lithe, agile, quick on her feet with a bitching, quick-witted attitude, and hot to boot. Granted, he’d had more of a lust for her blood at first, but sometime after their first truce, the lust had cooled to more of a ‘fuck-her-unconscious, then-drink-her-when-she-wakes’ type thing. Right now, it had pretty much digressed to a simple "must-fuck-woman" frenzy. Of course, he had yet to actually fuck her. Which was exactly what was gonna happen if she even thought of taking that glorious mouth off of his aching cock. He’d never thought that bloodlust and hate for someone that was so much his equal could give way to passion and lust of the primal kind. This definitely wasn't normal, of course -- what the hell was normal about the Vampire Slayer and a vampire, especially two as renowned as they were, getting it on? He was supposed to hate her; supposed to want to kill her, to drain her of her blood. When he’d first gotten the chip out, that had been what he’d initially meant to do. He’d been dying to kill her, practically salivating at the thought of draining her. But lying on top of her in the doctor’s office, drinking her thick, luscious blood, breathing in the intense headiness of her distinct arousal, his body rubbing against hers in all the right places and fitting against hers so perfectly... Something had happened, something in the air had snapped and he’s been left wanting nothing but her. He wanted to feel her heat forever, feel her essence surround every inch of him, envelope him and draw him in even further. That was why he had claimed her, he realized. He had the chip out, yeah, he could gloat as much as he wanted to the vampires and demons at the bars he went to. William the Bloody was back and even badder, and his first act of business as the One True Big Bad had been to sauce the Slayer and claim her as his. Yeah, he could do that. But why? What on earth would be the point of it? He’d been aligned with Buffy, albeit reluctantly at first, since last year, and all the demons he knew no longer trusted him. He was still evil -- damn straight he was -- there was no way in hell that some dinky little chip was taking that away from him. But it obviously wasn’t going to be top priority anymore. There was something much more important that had gained his full attention now. He wanted her -- not just her body, her blood, or the damn sex (which he still wasn’t getting) -- Spike wanted the woman. Wanted her to be his. Always his, and always there. He -- he wanted to go to sleep next to her every night, and wake up next to her in the mornings and why for the love of the bloody Powers was he turning into such a goddamn poofy git? He was jolted back to reality when he realized this. It hit him, much like Buffy’s punches did when she was extra pissed at him: he was really in love with her. He’d thought his dream, and his first realization had just been some strange, fucked-up flukes, things that had only been brought on by his arousal that night. He had, after all, been simultaneously drinking Slayer’s blood and grinding against her -- after all, he'd figured out after his first taste of a Slayer's blood that the vampire who drank it was suddenly overcome with arousal. He had not been aware, however, of just how spectacular the coupling of a vampire, a vampire slayer, and their blood would be. That dream had actually done him some good -- at least it had awakened him to his attraction. And now it looked like it had helpfully pushed him toward something earth-shattering: he truly was in love with Buffy Summers. Of course it would be so much easier to hate her. Not now, though. He couldn’t ever hate her again, not after what they’d shared. He couldn’t go back, even if he wanted to. He could try to hate her as much as he wanted, but the truth was that he’d admitted his love for her. One day, loving Buffy would get him killed. But it didn’t matter now. Because every second he was with this girl made his inevitable death more worth it than he could imagine. Especially in this position. Buffy’s hot, tight little mouth had him right on the edge of his climax, and her sneaky little hands slid into his pants, cupping his firm ass and digging her nails into his skin. Spike gave a long, heady moan, pitching forward and pushing his cock further into her mouth. Buffy gave a muffled protest but pushed forward anyway. Her hands moved to his front, the nails of one hand stroking his scrotum while her other hand gently cupped his balls, rolling the large smooth orbs in her palm and squeezing them. Spike groaned again, his fingers nearly digging right through the Slayer’s scalp as he shot his load into her mouth. Nearly completely dazed, and only half-conscious, he barely noticed as the Slayer swallowed each pump of cum he gave as he thrust himself desperately past her soft lips. If he had, he probably would’ve been shocked right back to life. Not even Dru had swallowed -- actually, Dru hadn’t even been keen on sucking him off, either. She’d do it once in a while, yes, but she much rather preferred to be on the receiving end of she and Spike’s naughty fun time. All this simply made Spike fall even more in love with Buffy. Not only was she beautiful, a walking weapon of devastation, the most gifted fighter he’d ever met, the best Slayer in the history of Slayers, and his match in every comprehendible way, but she had to be the world’s best, most gifted cocksucker, too. If it was possible - and legal - he would marry this girl. Buffy stood and wrapped her arms around Spike's neck, meeting his lips for a passionate, hungry kiss. Buffy began to back up against the other wall, running her hands over the chiseled muscles that his torn shirt was playing peek-a-boo with. He grinned against her mouth, taking this to mean that she wasn’t finished with him just yet. At least, he hoped to God she wasn’t. He took the open opportunity she gave him to shove her against the bricks, his lips sucking and nibbling eagerly at hers as he tasted himself, his large cool hands running up her sides and under her shirt. The Slayer moaned softly as Spike’s fingers captured one hardened little bundle of nerves through her smooth satiny bra, twisting it ever so slightly. Gripping his shoulders tightly, she hoisted herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist. One hand thrust between them as Buffy made an attempt to shimmy out of her workout gear. Spike twitched as he realized what she was doing, and suddenly their whereabouts came slamming into him. No. Oh, no, not here. Here was bad! "Buff -- no, luv, not -- baby, stop! Not here, pet, not here," he growled softly, trying to tug away. Buffy mewled loudly in displeasure and unwrapped her legs, dropping to the ground. She stared up at him, hurt and confused. "What? Why?" she asked, her eyebrows scrunching up. Spike tilted his head down to look at her, lifting his hands and placing them firmly on her shoulders. "Look around, Buffy-luv. This place isn’t even fit for you to spit in. You deserve better than this." He moved a hand from her shoulder to cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "I am not gonna bloody ravish you in a moldy, rank alley." Buffy stopped, staring at him. He cared about where they were. He actually gave a damn about where he wanted to have sex with her. That was so unlike the Spike she expected, and yet it was everything she’d been hoping. She could’ve raped him right then and there, alley or no alley. She looked up at him, flashing a bright smile at him as her hand moved to cover his. "Ravish me, huh?" Her other hand moved down to zip up his fly. Spike smiled down at her, his entire body relaxing as he sighed with relief. He chuckled softly and pressed his lips to hers quickly. "This is gonna sound poncy as all get out, but... I don’t know how I put up with things if you’re not around. Half the time, I’m getting my ass beat down." Buffy grinned. "You’re right. You do sound... poncy," she teased. Spike growled playfully, poking her in the side until she was full on laughing with her head tossed back. He shook his head and grunted, pulling her up and sighing. "Come on, luv. We best be gettin’ to patrol, lest your Watcher discovers that we were actually havin fun out here." Buffy favored him with a pout that featured a lower lip jutting out about a foot. "Boo. I want a break." She peered up at Spike. "How mad d’you think Giles’d be if we flew shotgun to Tahiti?" Spike snorted. "About as mad as anyone would be if the town protector flew off and left Lunchables to get eaten by the demon populace." "Wah." "’Sides, you know sunny days don’t really do too well for my complexion." A long pause followed as they began walking off toward one of Sunnydale’s twelve (thirteen? fourteen?) cemeteries, their fingers touching lightly but not quite. Then Buffy piped up. "I think you’re long overdue for a tan, Spike." Spike growled and chased her down the road as she shrieked with laughter. A week later, Dawn entered the front of the Magic Box, to the incredible not-noticing of everyone else who was either researching or sleeping. Well, Xander was really the only one who was sleeping. She didn’t want to think about why, but she could be damn sure it had something to do with Anya. Everyone was a little on edge, especially Buffy, and for good reason. A few days before, the Watchers’ Council had done what they’d always done best: they stuck their snooty noses into Sunnydale business, as per usual, drove them through the wild runaround, and then ended their trip by informing Buffy that Glory was a god. That pretty much reserved an uh-oh. Needless to say, Buffy wasn't happy. In the meantime, and she was probably being silly about this, but Dawn felt like everyone was going out of their way not to speak to her. They didn’t usually ignore her; in fact, if anything, she was friends with all of them in their own respect. But lately, every time she’d go to even look at them, they would turn their heads away or look down. Assholes. Of course, how was she to know that Buffy, Spike and Giles had finally told the others about her huge secret - the one she didn't even know she had? One that could end up killing them all. Buffy had seen fit to finally tell them after the Council had warned them that Glory was a hell god. Dawn sighed and leaned against a display, only to have Anya rush at her, balking and screeching. She scowled. At least she could still get a reaction of any sort from the manic store clerk. Anya could be sweet if she really tried (when it suited her), but how the hell Xander put up with her every single waking moment was beyond her. Wandering over to the cash register, she poked around through the little odds and ends surrounding it until she came upon an open book. Not a magic book. Journal. With really tiny handwriting -- it had to be Giles’. Xander’s handwriting resembled a car wreck. Anya’s flowed smoothly, Buffy’s was large and neat, Willow and Tara both wrote in upright cursive, and Spike had a cross between flourishing, expressive cursive and vampire punk. Besides, the only people she knew that kept journals were her, Buffy, and Giles. She hadn't snooped much through Spike's things to figure out if he did - yet. And she knew better than to leave her own journal lying around, especially at the store. Buffy barely touched hers anymore. So it had to be Giles’. He probably has some really juicy stuff in there. All it took was that one thought (and visions of future blackmail on the gang -- especially her sister) to get her to pick up the book. She stole into the empty training room with it, hiding it under her jacket to keep herself from being noticed. This was going to be good. What she read when she flipped to the journal’s most recent entry was anything but good. In fact, it was traumatizing. She dropped the book and ran. "Dawn’s missing!" Buffy’s head jerked away from Spike and the new punching bag at Willow’s exclamation, throwing her aim off so much that she socked Spike right in the gut. He doubled over and groaned as Buffy ran to her best friend. "What? When? How long?" she implored, grabbing the redhead's shoulders and shaking her. "Buffy. Buffy! Stop, please! Dawn is missing, we just realized it, and we have no idea how long. But she’s gone!" Buffy looked frantic, looking back and forth desperately between Willow and Spike, who was now standing up, rubbing his aching stomach. "Oh my god. Oh my god! We’ve gotta find her! What if Glory’s kidnapped her? What if she finds out that Dawn’s the Key? Where could she be, what could’ve made her – " The Slayer stopped mid-tirade as she spotted a small, flat lump on the floor. Spike furrowed his brow as he watched her walk toward something near the training mats. He exchanged a glance with Willow, then walked up behind Buffy. "Luv? What is it?" Buffy crouched and scooped up the open Watcher’s journal on the floor. Her Watcher's journal that happened to be open to the most recent entry. She stood up again, holding the notebook in both hands as she stared down at it. Willow moved up behind her, quickly reading the tiny writing in it. She put her hand to her mouth as she read the writing. Buffy looked up at Spike. "She found out," she whispered. "She knows she’s the Key. Giles wouldn’t have left his journal in here, he’s not careless. Dawn must’ve found it and read it. There’s no other way." Spike frowned. "Why didn’t you tell her in the first place?" Buffy shook her head. "She wouldn’t have –" "Understood?" Spike interrupted, scowling. "Buffy, it would’ve made a difference! It would’ve been better had she heard it from her sister, ‘stead of findin’ out from Rupert’s little diary! What the bloody hell’s wrong with you? Didn’t you realize it was gonna be traumatizin’ for her?" Buffy gave him a sour look. "Spike, back off. You really have no right to lecture me about this, anyway, it was none of your business!" Spike's eyes flashed and he gave her an outraged glare at her audacity. "You fuckin' bitch, you made it my business when you decided to trust me! Don’t you even fuckin’ deny it! Figure it out, Buffy! I care ‘bout the Bit, I worry ‘bout her much as you do, so don’t treat me like I don’t matter! You included me, an’ I’m here to stay! If you wanna revoke it, fine, fuck you, too! But don’t even think for a minute that the Nibblet doesn’t matter to me. She’s the only lot of you that I actually give a damn about." With a final growl, Spike spun and left, snatching his duster up. Buffy stood in the center of the training room with Willow, staring after him in shock. "Where does he even get off -- how - how dare he!" Willow hazarded a glance at her friend. Yeah, Buffy sounded angry. But the look on her friend's face warranted tears. She looked hurt and guilty, and Willow knew that she’d realized that Spike was right. She really should have told Dawn the truth about who she was, and where she'd come from. Right now, they just had to find her. If they could. If she even wanted to be found. TBC.

Chapter #10 - summers' blood

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part X... .:summers' blood:. Willow put a comforting arm around the Slayer’s shoulders, then flinched back when the Slayer shoved her away and walked quickly back into the store, clutching the suddenly despised journal. Willow followed briskly, worry and fear etched on her small, pixie face. Xander was bouncing on his heels in anticipation when the girls came out. He had seen Spike storm out just a minute earlier and was praying to every entity there was that once again, Slayer and Vampire had pissed each other off. Then it would finally give Buffy the chance to put a stake through the jerk’s undead heart. "What happened?" he asked, voice sounding all too cheerful, when there was no reason it should be. And even more annoying, even after he’d gotten the question across, he continued to repeat himself. He sounded like an excitable puppy that was dying for someone to throw a ball. Damn it. Buffy narrowed her eyes at everyone in the group and looked up when Giles walked down the steps, motioning for him to take a seat. She looks toward Willow, her grim features asking the same of her. Once everyone had been seated, Buffy all but threw Giles’ notebook into his lap. "I found that in the training room. Open," she began quietly. She furrowed her brow, tilting her head at Giles. "By any chance, did you happen to leave that laying around somewhere out here?" Giles blanched, picking the book up and looking it over. "Uh... p-perhaps. I-I may have... left it on the counter at the register," he stuttered. Then he looked up at Buffy, his eyebrows raised. "It was open, you say?" Buffy nodded. Pursing her lips, she clasped her arms behind her back and looked around at her friends before continuing. "Can I ask you guys what you were doing for the last two hours or so? I mean... did any of you happen to notice my sister walk in? At all?" Xander’s excitement from earlier had pretty much shattered from the moment Buffy first opened her mouth, and now he raised a sheepish, guilty hand. "Uh... we weren’t really paying much attention to her, Buffy." The Slayer’s countenance darkened. "You weren’t paying attention to my sister." She turned and began to pace. "All right. So... none of you even saw her come in to the store. None of you saw her take Giles’ journal right off of the counter. None of you possibly saw a completely shattered girl run out of here like a bat out of hell?" The entire group looked at each other shamefully. "Right. Of course not. And, um... how long have you guys not been noticing Dawn?" Willow bit her lower lip. "Uh... possibly since you told us about the... the, uh... situation with her?" Buffy stared at Willow, silent for a moment, then laughed in disbelief. "Three days. You’ve been... ignoring Dawn for three days." She ran her hands over her face and through her hair, then looked back up angrily. "What in the hell is wrong with you?!" Anya frowned. "Well, you told us to keep it all on the down low, you know." Not a good answer. Anya's eyes widened and she quickly backed up as Buffy’s eyes narrowed in rage. "By that I meant not to mention it, out loud, in front of her, ever! I didn’t mean to treat her like an alien or, or the Invisible Man! And now she knows! She found out that she’s the Key, and she’s run away! What the hell is gonna happen if Glory finds her?" Panic suddenly seemed to force it's way back into Buffy's system, and the Slayer dropped, gasping for air. "Oh my god, why didn’t I tell her?" Buffy clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes glistening and filling with tears. She started again, her voice slightly muffled. "I should have told her, I should’ve listened to Spike!" One would have thought she was crying, but instead, Buffy began to hyperventilate, her breathing coming in quick, harsh bursts. She began to rock back and forth. "Oh, god, I should have, I should have told her the second I found out! Spike was right, he was right, I should’ve told her the truth!" Everyone was silent, not one of them sure what to do. Giles finally moved forward, setting his hands on her shoulders, starting a little in surprise when she spun around and hugged him. "Giles, what am I gonna do? She must be furious with me," Buffy mumbled into his shirt. Willow stepped up and put a hand gently on Buffy’s. "We’ll look for her. We’ll find her, Buffy. It won’t be too hard. I mean, we can," she looked to Tara and grabbed her girlfriend’s hand. "We can get some ingredients, and, and do a-a spell to find her. And we can... form search parties, and --" "Get Spike," Buffy murmured. The group looked at her, and she let go of Giles to stare at them. "Spike’s a vampire. He knows Dawn’s smell. He could find her, track where she went, I know he could." She stood up. Xander began to protest Spike’s involvement, but Giles raised his hand to shut him up. "We’ll make certain that Spike is retrieved, Buffy. And we will find Dawn, I promise you that." The Slayer nodded distractedly but didn’t turn around. Instead, she made her way back toward the training room. The instant Buffy disappeared, Xander spoke up. "Why do we have to get the peroxide abuser on this?" he complained. "Dawn’s part of our family; he’s not. I think between me, you, Wills, Tara and Buffy, we can find her pretty easily, without dragging Dead Boy into this." Giles sighed. "As Buffy said, Spike is our best bet on finding Dawn. He does know her scent. And from the way he acts around her, I believe he considers her to be his own family." "Not to mention the fact that in the training room is one mighty scared and pissed off Slayer, ready and waiting to attack something," Anya piped up, still looking shaken. "Xander, whatever you do, don't open your mouth around Buffy. At all. You might say something that will get you killed, and to be perfectly honest, I'd like you to stay alive." Willow nodded. "Sorry, Xand, but Giles and Anya are right. Right before he left, Spike even said that he cared about Dawn. And you know he never truthfully admits to something unless it’s really important to him. The favor’s in Spike’s court right now. And I think that if you do try to say anything to Buffy against him, she just might go off the deep end." Giles turned to watch the red-head. "I take it Buffy and Spike had an argument?" She nodded. "About her not telling Dawnie. He left pretty mad." Giles nodded. "Then I suggest you go after him, Willow." The Wicca's eyes widened and nearly fell out of her head. "Me?" she squeaked. "Why me? I like him and all, but he's still chipless, and, and mad as hell right now, and... and... Does it have to be... me?" Giles eyed her. "Spike won’t harm you; it appears he seems more fond or, or tolerant, of the girls than of Xander or I. He is angry at Buffy, and Buffy is upset -- it wouldn’t do to send her after him with both of their emotions twisted up inside of them. If he does attempt to harm you, for whatever reason, you are more than adept at being able to defend yourself." He looked away from Willow to eye Xander. "Besides -- I believe you are the wisest choice amongst the three of us." Willow didn’t look convinced -- in fact, she was verging on frantic, near-spasmodic terror. "But--but.... ME. In Spike’s crypt? And with him, all... grrr, and argh?" In a tiny voice, she pleaded, "Can’t someone come with?" Giles frowned at her. "Willow, I know you to be braver than that. I’ve already told you that Spike will not hurt you." At her desperate, beseeching look, he sighed and relented. "But... if it worries you that much, you can take Tara with you." Willow bounced up, suddenly much happier, and let out a relieved gasp. "Okay. Round-up squad can-do!" She grabbed Tara’s hand. "You can bet we’ll be back here in twenty minutes," she called as she followed Tara out the door of the Magic Box. Xander folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, scowling, feeling sullen and overly cowed from the sudden Pro-Spike uprising. "With two full-fledged witches against one vampire, they better be." "Are you sure this... barrier thing around us is really necessary, Will?" Tara asked tentatively, waving her arm around in front of her. It really was pointless -- the barrier she was talking about was magical. Willow had conjured it up in her lingering fear of a mad, chipless Spike, and had employed it as a sort of invisible restraining order, not allowing the vampire any more than seven feet near them. Willow looked up at her girlfriend, wiping a bit of dust off of the hem of her skirt. "Just a safety precaution, honey," she reassured. "I trust him, really I do. Just not that much." Tara gave Willow an amused grin before both girls turned toward the big iron door of the crypt. Cautiously, Willow raised her hand to knock, and froze as still as possible as the harsh, guttural thuds echoed from the inside out. They waited quietly. No answer. They looked at each other, then Willow carefully pulled open the door, poking her head inside. "Spike?" she called out as she and Tara walked in. "A-are you here?" A grunt sounded from the corner of the room, making the girls jump simultaneously. They looked in the direction of the noise and saw a platinum blonde head resting against the wall. Seated on the sarcophagus, Spike turned his head, fixating his stormy blue eyes on the witches. "Hmph. Least you knocked." The vampire sighed as he scooched off of the slab, then stood up, grasping something -- oh. A flask. So he was drunk. Or at least on his way to getting drunk. Better to deal with him when he was slightly tipsy. He still understood, but he couldn’t be bothered to have a fist-fight. Much. "Why’re you here, witches?" Willow spoke up. "Buffy--" The second the Slayer’s name was mentioned, Spike snarled and turned away, lifting the flask and taking a good, solid chug of whatever was in there. Willow ignored him and continued. "Buffy told us to come get you. She said you were the only one who could really stand a chance at finding Dawn." Spike turned, an irritated look on his face. "So the Princess wants me to come to the rescue? Like a bloody knight in shinin’ armor. She want me to save Nibblet, then? Yeh, I’ll find the Bit, but ‘m not doin’ it for Buffy. Stuck up little bitch." He turned and flopped onto the chair in front of his television. "Thinks she can toss me ‘round, order me about. Drags me into somethin’, then wants me out the second I counter her. Bitch can’t bloody do that, needs to learn the rules. Thinks she’s so fuckin’ high an’ mighty an’ all, acts like I’m a speck of dust she takes precious time out to pay attention to. Can’t do that, ain’t allowed to do that; I’m higher up than she is, anyhow! Should be beggin’ me for my attention." Tara exchanged a look with Willow, then walked up to the vampire... who was immediately bumped back seven feet due to the magical restraining order. He fell on the floor of the crypt, nearly spilling the contents of his flask, and looked around in surprise. "What the bloody hell --" Tara quickly made a cutting motion toward Willow, and Willow waved her hand hastily, removing the restriction. Tara moved forward again and gently put a hand on Spike’s arm, helping him up. Spike looked up at her, frowning. "You should be afraid of me. Deathly afraid." Tara returned his gaze with a gentle smile. "Yeah. I should be." Spike allowed her to help him up, then turned away from her, shaking his head. "I’m a monster, luv, you should be runnin’ in terror as we speak. Why the hell are you treatin’ me like a human bein’?" he asked, sighing. The blonde witch stood still, biting her lower lip for a moment before answering. "Because you act like one." Spike turned to look at her curiously, before allowing a infinitesimal smile to touch his lips. "That so, ducks?" Tara moved up to him again, putting a hand urgently on his arm. "Buffy’s starting to realize it, too. She knows she messed up, but now isn’t the time to dwell on that. Spike, we need you. Buffy and Dawn need you. We’ve got to find her, and we have to have your help. There’s no telling what could happen to her with Glory around. Please, come back to the Magic Box with us." Spike stared at the girl for a moment. She’d always been so shy whenever she was in his vicinity. Hmph. It really did take times of crisis to show the truth in people’s natures. "Slayer good an’ ready?" Tara bit her lip. "She’s getting there. She asked for you specifically." The witch looked down, as Willow looked on in awe. "She was pretty upset." Spike nodded. "I would be too, being as the Bit’s her only sis." Tara shook her head. "Because of you. Because she knows she upset you." Spike’s eyebrows arched in surprise. "Cos’ of me?" He was silent for a bit, contemplating this information. He looked up then, sharing looks with each of the witches. "What're we waiting for? Let’s go then. Nibblet needs her Big Bad." An’ so does the Slayer Spike thought internally, closing the flask and dropping it onto the lounge chair. He walked over and picked his duster up off the floor, draping it around his shoulders, then walked out the door of the crypt. Tara turned to Willow with a pleased smile on her face, noticing that the red-head was gazing at her with a look of extreme shock and admiration. "What is it, Willow?" she asked softly, her demeanor becoming quiet and soft-spoken once again. Willow gazed at her lover in amazement, an enormous smile gracing her face, before she slid an arm around Tara’s waist. "Tara, that was amazing! How did you manage to get through to him like that?" Tara’s hand moved down to clasp the hand around her waist, then wrapped her free arm around Willow’s shoulder. The blonde smiled sweetly as she spoke. "Spike needed someone that didn’t have a one-sided opinion of him. And since I-I’m not... e-entirely an outsider, o-or an official Scooby... I could sort of see both sides. Try as you might to be nice to him, Willow, you s-still don't trust him, a-and he can sense that. And I could see his aura... Spike was hurting. He acts all mean and scary, and he is -- he really is -- but it doesn’t matter what he is. He still has feelings, and I think Buffy hurt those feelings earlier. He just... he wants to be treated like an equal -- like a man, not a monster." Willow tilted her head. "How do you figure that?" Tara shrugged. "The look in his eyes. I didn't even need to see his aura to see how much he hurt, I just needed one look in his eyes, and I could tell. You told me that Buffy said that what he thought didn't really matter, that none of it was his business anyway? Well, Spike's eyes said something else -- they held betrayal. Which means that Buffy did trust him and his opinion enough to make Dawn's secret his business. He just needed that trust in him reaffirmed so that he could do his job... But Buffy still needs to sort things out with him to make it all right again. That's all." Willow’s smile grew even bigger and she hugged her girlfriend tightly, giving her a soft kiss. "Baby, you are brilliant!" Buffy put her fingers on her temples and rubbed gently as she sat down next to the table in the back of the magic store. The bell above the door rang loudly and Buffy looked up, hope shooting across her features, then relief as Spike stormed in, followed closely by Willow and Tara, both who were wearing huge smiles of pride. Spike moved around the table to lean against a display, ignoring Anya’s immediate squawking. He caught Buffy’s gaze, and gave her a small nod of reassurance. She nodded quickly, then looked around to the rest. "Guys, we have to find her," she began quietly, looking around the table at her allies. "Fast. Before Glory figures out what - who she really is. Mom's gonna stay at home in case she shows up. I figure we split up and sweep the city." The Slayer stood up and directed the first assignment toward the ex-demon. "Anya. Will you stay here in case she shows up?" Anya nodded quickly, her face grim. Normally, she ignored things, let them fly right by. But Glory finding Dawn meant an upset Slayer, and the end of the world as they knew it. And the end of the world meant no more Xander, or friends, or money. And that was bad. So she was getting her ass on the ball this time. Buffy turned toward the men. "Xander, Giles, you guys take the center of town. Willow, Tara, west side. Spike, you and I'll get the east side." A quick nod from each group gave her confirmation and Spike moved to stand beside her as everyone stood up. Buffy exchanged a look with him, then turned to everyone again. "Just find her... please." A small, lanky figure moved through a playground that night, looking about sadly. Dawn eyed the swing set with despondence. Flashback... In a park somewhere in Los Angeles, a younger Dawn sat gleefully on a swing as a younger Buffy with darker hair, and no knowledge of what was to happen to her when she turned fifteen, pushed her from behind. "Betcha can’t push me all the way around!" Younger Dawn yelled, an enormous grin covering her happy, chubby little face. Younger Buffy giggled in response. "Oh yes I can!" she answered, and set out to prove herself to her sister. "No you can’t!" the younger Dawn shouted, despite her sister immediately proving her wrong. Their laughs and giggles filled the air, marking the last bit of innocence the two would ever have. Dawn snapped back to reality, her and Buffy's laughter from the past echoing in her mind. She stared at elementary school's dark, empty swing set in front of her, her face scrunching up, tear tracks covering her cheeks. She turned and walked away. It wasn't real. Xander walked along steadily beside Giles, peering behind and into a dumpster, as the elder man searched behind a few trash cans. Their search had taken them to downtown Sunnydale and, at the moment, a very creepy looking alley. Xander sighed. "There's so many things I remember. Seeing Dawn ... hanging with her ... listening to Buffy complain about her. Mostly that last one." He looked somberly at Giles. "How could it be that all those things never really happened?" Giles sighed. "Well, it takes some getting used to. The idea of a ... bright fourteen-year-old actually being living energy thousands of years old." The two continued to stroll along, though it was obvious that their search was not warranting anything. "I'm guessing some kind of super-powerful in her raw form," Xander commented, swiping at an empty bag. Giles nodded resignedly. "People have killed, died for it ... summoned armies to control the key." There was a moment of silence, then out of no where, Xander piped up with, "You know, uh ... she kinda has a crush on me." Giles glanced at the boy, his face not revealing any enthusiasm over the subject. "Your point being?" The look on Xander’s face was mulish and self-satisfied at the same time. He stopped walking and answered, "Well nothing, no, uh ... just saying, powerful being ... big energy gal digging the Xan-man." He grinned, and Giles regarded him with a frown. "Some guys are just cooler, you know?" Giles shook his head, giving Xander a look of deep disgust before he turned and walked away, rolling his eyes and praying mentally for patience. Why was it that he always got stuck with Xander, anyway? Xander followed quietly. As she and Spike strode through the playground at Sunnydale Elementary, Buffy repeatedly called out, "Dawn? DAWN!" Spike was starting to get that old, irritated feeling again. "Yeah, that should do it." Buffy’s head whipped around and she glared at him. "Shut up." Spike scowled at her. "The Nibblet scampered off to get away from you. She hears you bellowing, she's gonna pack it in the opposite direction." They stopped walking, and he gave her a meaningful Look before glancing around at their surroundings. "Can’t say I blame her," he muttered. Great. As if she wasn’t feeling guilty enough. She moved closer to Spike, cautiously touching his hand. "You were right," she said softly, staring at the ground. Spike’s head whipped around and he looked at her in surprise, his eyebrows rising. "This is my fault," she continued. "I should’ve told her." He stared at her for a moment, and felt himself soften, his heart twisting and aching for her. She looked so... vulnerable. Helpless. No Slayer should ever look that way, least of all his. Balls, he thought, irritated. He was supposed to be mad at her, but one pitiful look, and she had him cornered. He carefully put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. He sighed. "Look, she probably would have skipped off anyway, even if she never found out," he began softly, rubbing her arm. "She's not just a blob of energy, she's also a fourteen-year-old hormone bomb." He sighed again, shaking his head. "Which one’s screwin’ her up more right now, spin the bloody wheel." He looked down at her, pleased to find that she was now looking up at him; listening to him. "You’ll find her, just in the nick of time, that’s what you hero types do." Buffy grasped his arm tightly, looking up at him hopefully. Do you mean that? her eyes asked. Spike raised a hand to stroke her hair, then gently kissed her forehead. "You’ll find her," he said in a firm, quiet voice. Buffy leaned into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. "And then what?" she whispered as they continued to walk. Dawn sat quietly in a chair, a mixture of fright, awe, and confusion on her face. She could not have just... Ben had just turned into Glory. Dawn had wandered to the hospital after she’d left the playground, feeling an urge to listen to what the psychos had to say about her. They’d all known, each of them had known, had seen a green light coursing around her. She’d tried to make them talk, tried to get them to tell her what she was, when one of them had mentioned something about the Key being a link, and the link needing to be severed. When he started repeating, "Such is the will of God," she got even more freaked out. She’d backed up and ran right into Ben, the trainee doctor who had been there when Mom had needed to come in the morning before Spike had first bitten Buffy. Ben took her to the locker room of the hospital and made her some hot chocolate. They’d started talking, and suddenly everything had just spilled out -- she wasn’t real. She was a thing. Ben had begun to freak out and scared her badly -- "You're what she's been searching for! I am telling you, run!" -- and then... Right in front of her eyes, Ben had turned into the woman before her. Glory. The so-called hell god. "Ugh, cotton!" The hell god who apparently had no patience for comfy materials. Dawn’s attention snapped around and she stared at the blonde woman, who had her back to her, squirming out of the blue scrubs that Ben had been wearing. "Could a fabric be anymore annoyingly pedestrian?" she muttered, reaching into the locker she stood in front of. "Now this is what I’m talking about," she continued, smiling as she pulled a red silk dress over her head. "Makes your skin sing." Dawn swallowed hard. "You’re -- you’re Ben..." Stretching her arms behind her to button the blouse, Glory sniffed. "Uh, it’s an eensy more complicated than that. Family always is, isn’t it?" Okay. Now, she was beyond freaked. Dawn looked anxiously toward the door, wondering how fast she could run to get there before Glory would catch her. "You’d never make it." Dawn’s head spun around and she looked toward Glory, whose back was still facing her. She gulped again. "I'd rip out your spine before you got half a step. And those little legs?" Glory smiled over her shoulder at the girl. "They wouldn't be much good without one of those." And suddenly, Glory was right there next to her, bent down in order to see eye to eye with the fourteen-year-old. "Would they, Dawnie?" Dawn gasped, jumping back in surprise. Don’t freak out, don’t freak out... "Now... what I’m trying to noodle is what in the world is the Slayer’s little sis doing here with gentle Ben?" Glory asked, tilting her head. Dawn tried as hard as she could not to scream. "Y-You don’t remember?" It was funny. As terrifying as this was, Glory looked as sweet and gentle as could be as she brushed a lock of Dawn’s hair off of her shoulder. "Remember what? You were talking to him, not me." Then she gasped, and grabbed Dawn’s chin, forcing the girl to look at her. "Oh, he wasn’t being naughty, was he?" At that moment, a guard happened to walk into the room. Dawn's eyes widened, her hope soaring -- the guard would call the cops, Glory would be taken away, and Buffy would come and save her -- Except that the guard had chosen the wrong moment to enter. Seeing Glory and Dawn, he frowned and moved forward. "Excuse me, ma’am, this area is for hospital personnel--" Glory turned and, grabbing the guard’s head viciously, she twisted it around, snapping his neck. The guard fell to the floor and Dawn gasped in fear. Glory turned around and bent down to Dawn again. "Rude! I was talking!" She sighed, then pulled Dawn off of her feet. "What do you say we find a nice place off the beaten," she suggested, grabbing Dawn by the front of her blouse and spinning her around, "Where you and I can have a long uninterrupted chat." Horrified, Dawn was pushed out the door. They’d followed a trail to the hospital, and were having absolutely no luck whatsoever. Buffy turned away from the reception desk and looked dejectedly at Spike. "She wasn’t brought in," she murmured. Xander tilted his head. "That’s a happy thing, right?" Buffy sighed, rubbing her hands over hers eyes. "I don’t know... I --" A doctor hurried by, followed by a group of security guards. "..found him on the floor in the break room. You guys gotta see him. His head's almost twisted clean off." Buffy’s head shot up and she watched as the doctor disappeared down the hall. She swallowed hard. "Glory." They ran. Glory seemed to be getting a little more insane as the minutes passed. She had dragged Dawn into an exam room, and the idea occurred to Dawn as suddenly as a light bulb flash from a camera: Glory wanted the Key. That had to mean that Glory knew what the Key was, and what the Key... what Dawn... did. So the teenager started asking questions -- not very subtle ones -- about the Key, its origins... if it was evil. "Totally!" Glory answered, her eyes lighting up in joy. Dawn gasped, horrified. So it was true... she was bad. Then Glory giggled. "Well, no, not really. I guess it depends on your point of view." Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. So she could go either way. That was better than just being straight evil. She was like Spike that way, then. She drew a deep breath. "So what's it for? I mean... if it's a Key, then there's gotta be a lock, right?" Glory quirked her head. "Yes, we have a winner." Dawn bit her lip. "S-so what does it open?" Suddenly, Glory's eyes narrowed, and Dawn's widened at the sudden change. The goddess sighed. "I smell a fox in my henhouse." Her nose scrunched up in irritation. "Is that why you've been playing sugar and spice with old Uncle Ben? Trying to get a peek at Glory's unmentionables?" She dropped down from the table she'd been sitting on. Dawn started backtracking quickly. "N-No, I --" "Shh! I kinda want to hear me talking right now. Me talking." As she'd spoken, she had gotten closer and closer, until she was right up into Dawn's face, staring the terrified teenager down. "You know what I'm starting to think? I'm thinking... that maybe you..." Dawn began shaking. Glory stood straight up and snapped away from her. "Don't know where my Key is." The goddess's words began to flow faster. "Very irritating. Irrational. Know what I mean, tiny snapdragon? Like --" Her elbows smacked down on the counter, startling Dawn so badly that the girl gave a soft shriek. Glory leaned forward, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. "... bugs... under my skin. And, say," she stood up again, looking disoriented, sighing and closing her eyes. "I'm feelin' a little..." Dawn tried to back away, fear tainting her voice. "What's wrong with you?" Glory suddenly opened her eyes, a slow smile appearing on her face. "Hey. Hey. This doesn't have to be a complete waste of my precious time." She walked back over to Dawn again, eyes narrowed. "I've been meaning to send the Slayer a message. And I could use a little pick-me-up. Two birds, one stone, and --" she clapped her hands, right in front of Dawn's face, causing the terrified girl to jump in her seat. The goddess smiled wider. "Boom. You have yummy dead birds." Enter the cavalry. The door to the exam room burst open, revealing Buffy standing there with her leg poised in midair, a look of determination and hatred on her face. Spike was poised right behind her, scowling, followed by the others. "Get the hell away from my sister," the tiny blonde growled. Dawn nearly sobbed in relief as she ran behind her sister. Glory's face lit up. "Hey, we were just talkin' about you!" she exclaimed. Buffy was most definitely not flattered. "Conversation's over, hell-bitch." The Slayer lunged at Glory, doubling up her fists and punching with a right and a left as hard as she could, before she ducked the retaliation from the goddess. Spike grabbed a hold of Dawn, pulling her behind the trashcan in the room. "Stay here," he breathed, and Dawn looked up with her terrified blue eyes, nodding frantically. He turned and jumped into the fray, just as Buffy spun Glory around and knocked her into a display case. The Slayer grunted when the hell-god kicked her away. "Ugh, you bitch! If you tore this dress, I'll rip your head off!" Glory snarled, punching Buffy in the face. The Slayer yelped as the hit connected, and suddenly grinned as Spike dove on to Glory from behind, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her. Struggling, she gave an outraged cry as Buffy returned the favor, punching her in the face as Spike held her fast. Spike kneed her in the back for good measure, grinning. "Luv, I thought you said this skank was tough?" "Spike, she--" Buffy started, then gasped when Glory broke free of his hold, grabbing his arm and flipping him over, throwing him against the wall. As Xander moved around behind them, picking up a tire iron he had found, Glory picked Spike up and head-butted him before throwing him across the exam table and into the medical equipment. He slid off the other side, unconscious. Buffy and Dawn both let out twin shrieks of dismay. Glory turned her attention back to Buffy, smiling. "When your boyfriend wakes up, tell him to watch his mouth." Buffy looked infuriated, and was far from the point of caring what the hell the others would think of her at this point. Glory had hurt Spike - and now Buffy was going to hurt Glory. "When my boyfriend wakes up, I'll tell him that he deserves full honors for telling the truth!" Glory's eyes widened, and the goddess growled. In the background behind her, Giles was fumbling with his crossbow, attempting to get back on track despite the statement he had heard Buffy make. When he'd gotten the bolt secured, he attempted to aim it, but found his target to be blocked by his very own charge. As Buffy began punching Glory again, in furious retaliation for what she had done to both her sister and Spike, the Slayer could hear Willow and Tara chanting a spell in the background, and prayed that it would work. Pushing back from the goddess, Buffy leaped up and attempted to kick her, but nearly fell to the floor when Glory grabbed her foot. "Hey, those are really nice shoes!" the hell god exclaimed, studying Buffy's foot before pushing the Slayer away. Buffy fell into a backflip, her legs flying up behind her and kicking Glory in the face as she came down. Turning and staring wildly at her Watcher, she cried out "Giles, now!" before diving out of the way. Giles fired the crossbow bolt, and stared in disbelief as the bolt harmlessly bounced off of Glory's stomach. Glory looked down, then looked up, an expression of annoyance on her face. "Oh, please, like that's --" Xander came up behind the goddess and slammed a tire iron down on her head. Glory spun around and grabbed it away from him, glaring angrily. "Hey! Watch the hair!" She flung Xander away from her, sending him flying right back into Giles. The two men crashed into the x-ray screen, sending an explosion of sparks all over the place. Dawn shrieked, covering her head and cowering. Glory pointed the tire iron at both of them. "Time to start the dyin’!" she called, then spun around, sensing Dawn and pointing the tire iron at her. "Start with the whelp!" The tire iron was thrown like a javelin at the fourteen-year-old, and Dawn screamed again, her eyes widening in horror. Buffy looked up instantly. "Dawn!" she gasped, then threw herself in the path of the iron, allowing it to impale her upper chest. Buffy hit the ground and moaned softly in pain. Dawn’s eyes widened and she began crawling towards her older sister. "Buffy!" she cried out. Buffy looked up. "Get back!" Glory grinned menacingly. "Nice catch. Is that the best you little crap-gnats can muster?" She watched in amusement as Buffy pulled the tire iron out of her with a wince of pain. "Cuz I gotta tell ya, so not impressed." She stormed toward them, walking between Willow and Tara on the way. Fortunately, the witches' chants had reached their crescendo. The Wiccas each threw a handful of sparkling dust on the goddess, covering her entire dress and body in the shimmer. Glory’s eyes widened in outrage. "Look what you did to my dress, you little--" Willow clapped her hands once. "Decede!" As Glory exploded and disappeared into a cloud of dust, Willow dropped to the floor. Tara looked over at her and gasped, running to her side. "Willow!" Buffy’s look was one of amazement as she stared at Willow, and then she was brought back as she remembered her sister. "Dawn," she gasped, then pulled the girl to her, hugging her tightly. She looked back at the witches curiously. "What did you do to her?" Willow panted heavily, her hand wiping at the blood dripping from her nose. "Teleportation spell. Still working out the kinks, you know, here and there." Buffy frowned. "Where did you send her?" Willow bit her lip and looked at Buffy. "Don’t know. That’s one of those kinks." Buffy let out a small, relieved laugh as Giles stood up and made his way over to the girls. He leaned down and helped Tara stand Willow up, shaking his head. "That was an incredibly... dangerous spell for an adept at your level," he chastised, frowning. Willow looked around, dazed. "Yep. Won’t be trying that one again soon." Xander got up from his little mass of x-ray wires at the same time that Spike sat up, with a superbly pissed off look on his face. He promptly stood up and glared around. "Where the hell did she go? Don’t tell me I missed it!" Xander glanced at the vampire, and couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his face. "You missed it all, buddy." Spike growled and kicked a tray of operating utensils. "Goddamn it!" He glanced at his surroundings, then finally noticed Buffy and Dawn sitting huddled on the ground next to each other. Both girls were wounded, and he strode over, standing over them at their shoulders. Dawn looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. The smile faded as Buffy spoke. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" she asked desperately. Dawn looked away. "What do you care?" Buffy looked at her in amazement. "Because I love you. You’re my sister, Dawn." Dawn’s head stayed down. "No, I’m not. I’m not real. I’m just something that was made up, then dropped into your life. You don’t care about me because I’m your fake sister, you care because I’m your job. You have to protect me from Glory. If I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t even have to worry about her. I shouldn’t be here anyway. I’m not your sister." She looked blankly at the floor. "I’m not anything." Buffy eyed her sister, noticing the bleeding wound along her arm. "Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. Yes, you are. You are something. You’re Dawn Summers, you’re my sister, and you’re Joyce’s daughter." She lifted Dawn’s bloody arm, a miserable looking wound trailing down her shoulder from the glass of the x-ray screen. "Look. Look at this -- it’s blood. It’s Summers blood." Buffy’s free hand pressed into the tire iron wound in her chest and she bit her lip, wincing from the pain. Swallowing it up, she pressed her bloody hand against Dawn’s, holding them together. She looked her sister directly in her eyes. "It's just like mine. It doesn't matter where you came from, or... or how you got here. You are my sister." She paused for a second, lifting her other hand up to touch Dawn’s cheek. "There’s no way you could annoy me so much if you weren’t." Dawn stared at Buffy, sniffling softly. Her eyes filled with tears, and she let out a tiny sob, moving toward Buffy and hugging her tightly. Buffy swallowed hard and tried to blink back her own tears, hugging Dawn back in a death grip. "I was so scared," Dawn whispered, crying softly. Buffy gently stroked the girl’s hair, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "Me, too, honey... me too." A small smile came to Spike’s face as he watched his girls, and he looked about, noticing the others staring at them. Willow was rubbing at her eyes while Tara looked on fondly, a gentle smile placed on her soft mouth. Buffy took no notice of them, and instead took a deep breath. "Come on." The Slayer stood, and pulled Dawn up with her. "I have to get you back home. Mom's freaking out." Dawn’s eyes widened. "Oh... how bad did I scare her?" Buffy tilted her head. "I think you sorta have a get-out-of-jail-free card on account of big love and trauma." Dawn gave a relieved sigh. "Really? Okay. Good." She grasped Buffy’s hand, then looked up at Spike. She tentatively reached for him, and Spike raised his scarred eyebrow in surprise, then shrugged and let her hang on to his arm as Buffy led them out of the room. The four Scoobies behind them exchanged glances, before Willow and Tara grinned, hurrying after the three. Xander and Giles grimaced, but followed, catching up in time to hear Dawn asking for a raise in her allowance. Buffy gave her a Look. "Don’t push it." Dawn grinned. "Hey, it was worth a try." Buffy scrunched her nose up at the fourteen-year-old, then smiled and kissed her forehead. "You’re lucky I love you, little Miss JD." There was a knock on the door of her bedroom. "Come in!" Dawn called. She figured it would be Mom, running in for the hundredth time to scold her and coddle her all at once. She started in surprise, however, when she saw Spike saunter in, melding with the shadows of her room; whatever little lighting there was glinted off of his blonde head. If she hadn’t seen the change in him after he'd been chipped, she would have been scared out of her wits by now. He was in Stalker Mode. She sat up on her bed, looking at him. "What’s up, Spike?" The vampire got down on his knees in order to see eye level with her. After the thing with Glory at the hospital, he’d walked the girls home, much to Xander’s dismay, and had been regaled with the tale of what he had missed when he'd been knocked unconscious. He'd smirked knowingly in Buffy's direction when Dawn let slip what the Slayer had said to Glory about him in the exam room, entirely enchanted at the flush that had rushed to her cheeks, and the way she'd ducked her head down to avoid looking at him. When Joyce had seen him walk in, she’d been startled. When he and Buffy grasped Dawn and pulled her in, she’d actually gone right up to him and hugged him. If he wasn't so fond of Joyce in the first place, Spike would be the one freaking out. "Can I ask you one thing, luv?" he began, not looking at Dawn. Dawn shrugged. "Sure. Go ahead." Spike lifted pleading eyes to her. "Could you an’ your mum not get so.... touchy-feely with me an’ all? I’m still the Big Bad, an’ a story gettin’ ‘round that Spike’s gotten soft on the Slayer’s mum and kid sis is gonna be murder on me, chip or no chip." Dawn grinned delightedly. "I can’t promise you that I’ll stop with the mushy. I can get Mom to, maybe, but I can only restrict myself to inside the house whenever you come around." She eyed him. "Which you will be doing a lot more, right?" Spike smirked. "I concede nothin’. Stop bein’ such a nosy little bint. You nearly scared the Slayer to an early grave tonight, Bit." The teenager looked down remorsefully. "I know. She knows I’m sorry, though, doesn’t she?" Spike nodded. "Yeh, she knows. Don’t mean it’ll go away that easy. You’re gonna hafta build up a helluva lot of brass to get them to trust you again. You saw Joyce when you walked in. She nearly had a heart attack; she was bloody mollified seein’ you, all safe an’ sound." He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face up to meet his gaze. "Take it from me, pet. Don’t do things that you’ll regret, ‘specially to your mum. Believe me, you’ll feel like rippin’ out your own heart later on to make the hurt stop." Dawn watched him. "I don’t suppose you’d want to talk about..." He looked up sharply. "No. I wouldn’t." She backed away meekly. "Okay, okay. Sorry." Spike grunted, looking around the violet colored room. Hmph. Parental Advisory Warning label blown up fifty times its original size and stapled onto the wall. He liked this girl. He stood up, then looked down at her. "One more thing, ‘fore I go." She raised her eyes to him. "Yes?" His hand grasped her arm and twisted it to the side, revealing the long, harsh cut from earlier, which was only now beginning to clot. Dawn winced and bit her lower lip, trying not to look at the wound. "Buffy thought it was from the x-ray in the exam room. Been cuttin’ yerself, though, haven’t you, kitten?" "Yes," she mumbled softly. She glanced up at Spike, frantically. "Please don’t tell Buffy or Mom. I'll quit doing it, I swear. You won’t tell them, will you? Please don’t tell, Spike!" The vampire sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. He looked at her again after a moment. "Not a soul, luv. I won’t tell a soul." A relieved smile appeared on Dawn’s face, and she threw herself at the vampire, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. "Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!" she squealed. Spike growled, hugging her back reluctantly, then peeled her off of him. "What did I tell you? Keep the lovey-dovey crap down to a minimum, damn it!" Oh, like it mattered. Dawn was too damn happy right now to give a damn. She grinned brightly at him. "I will, I promise! Thank you, though! Thank you so much!" Spike rolled his eyes, smiling, then turned around and waved her away. "Yeah, yeah..." He closed the door to Dawn’s room and made his way down the hallway, looking at Joyce’s door. He listened, trying to discern if she was sleeping, then nodded his head as her heard her light breathing and soft snores. He turned toward Buffy’s room, then reeled slightly as he came face to face with her, standing in her doorway with a long black T-shirt on... A long, black, tight, very familiar looking -- oh. It was his, right. He smirked slightly. "You kept it, then? Was certain you would’ve tossed it on a pile of rubbish." Buffy shrugged, looking down at herself. "Well... I have all these... strappy tops and blouses and stuff... not nearly as comfortable as the might look, by the way... I don’t own enough T-shirts. So I figured... what the hell, you know?" Spike nodded slowly, gazing at her for a moment. "Yeah, I know," he murmured softly. He would’ve given anything at that moment to pull her into his arms, kiss her breath away and tell her he loved her. Except that... he remembered he was supposed to be mad at her. Damn. He forced his gaze to harden. "Well. Best be headin’ out. Got stuff to do tomorrow. Evil, an’ all that. Wouldn’t wanna get dragged into any plans of yours or anythin’. Wouldn't wanna be told the I don' matter, after all." Buffy winced. He really could be the King of Blunt when he wanted to be. Spike groaned. Damn it, if that lower lip started trembling, he was going to stake himself. Buffy looked up at him, ambivalently. "I’m sorry about today, Spike. I’m in the wrong, I know." Spike crossed his arms, clearly expecting more. Buffy bit her lip and continued. "I was... rude, and... heartless with everything I said. I shouldn’t have been. You hit me a few home truths, and I reacted like a child. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, and please for the love of God, say something or my head is gonna pop! Come on, Spike!" Spike just smirked at her, refusing to say a thing. Buffy stomped her foot, pouting. "Spike, come on, please! I’m sorry, I really am, you know I am! I didn’t mean it, I was being stupid, and you were just trying to help! I know this, I know it all, now forgive me before I kick your ass all the way back to your crypt!" Spike snorted and started laughing. "Well, how can a bloke resist an apology like that?" Buffy lower lip began to jut out and Spike growled. "All right, all right, I forgive you! Jesus... damn women..." Buffy smiled at him then, taking his hand. She moved into his arms, resting her head on his chest. "Spike," she whispered softly. "I really am sorry." Spike stared down at her and took a deep breath, closing his eyes and hugging her back tightly. "I know, luv," he whispered back into her hair, kissing the top of her head. She moved slightly and tilted her head up to kiss him softly, her lips gliding gently over his for a single moment. "Spike?" she continued softly when she pulled away. He tilted his head toward her. "Yeh?" She bit her lower lip and chewed on it for a moment. Then: "Would... would you stay the night with me? No strings attached. No, uh..." she blushed. "No extracurricular activities or anything. Just... us." She peered up at him to see if he’d understood. "You know?" He knew all too well. The Slayer was asking him to spend the night... and to hold her in his arms. He nodded slowly, then kissed her again as she led him into her bedroom. A moment later, the two were lying on Buffy’s bed, Spike on his back with Buffy slowly falling asleep against him. Her arm was draped across his waist, and her body was half on top of his, her head tucked neatly under his chin, and Spike in turn had one arm wrapped around her own tiny waist. He’d never felt more comfortable in his life. This was... This was actually something. He actually had something here. He was here, with the Slayer. She was in his arms, falling asleep. This was what he’d been wanting so desperately. To fall asleep with her at night, to wake with her in the morning, in his arms. It was real. It had become reality, and it was right. Nothing had ever felt more right before. This was where he was supposed to be. Right here, with his girls. With Buffy, Joyce and Dawn. Tara's kindness had produced a profound change in him before. With the exception of Buffy’s Watcher and Harris as Buffy’s surrogate brother figure, Spike had come to the sudden realization that... he was accepted amongst the Scoobies. To the women of the group, Spike was someone to care about. Maybe it was just his devilish grin and roguish good looks. Women went for bad boys -- wasn’t his fault. He grinned to himself. Just my pleasure. Whoops. Not allowed to do that anymore. He had a... a thing now. He wasn’t sure what to call it. A relationship? An... understanding? How the hell could he define this thing with the Slayer? Point was, he wasn’t allowed to hit on women anymore. He was a one woman vamp. He was Involved. He was... he was... Oh, bloody... he’d figure it out later. It didn’t matter right now. What did matter was the tiny woman lying asleep in his arms. He looked down at her, noticing that her breathing had evened out, and she indeed was asleep. He stared at her quietly for a moment, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of her face. Spike sighed, contemplating this... this oddity. He must be completely out of his head to be in love with her. But he was. And it felt so... incredibly... right. He leaned down, kissing her mouth softly. It didn’t even matter to him anymore, if she claimed him back or not. He was in love with her. That was enough for him. And since she would probably shrink away with horror if he ever said it out loud to her face... this would be his only chance to say it to her face-to-face without being killed. Even though she wouldn’t hear it. He leaned back, pulling her with him, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly. "I love you, Buffy," he whispered softly, kissing her forehead. Finally, he allowed his head to fall back against the pillow. From his vantage point, Buffy slept on. But inside Buffy’s brain, connections were being made, pieced together and registering with her, being shot up to the forefront of her mind. The Slayer’s eyes slowly opened, then grew wide as Spike’s words forced their way through her foggy mind. She turned her eyes upward toward the ceiling, as if glaring at the very Powers themselves. Oh... great. Those sick fucking bastards. TBC. AN [2]: Remember, I wrote this long before season 7 ever aired. Did anyone catch the allusion that I didn't even know I made about Spike's mother, Anne? And for those who were wondering, no I didn't do the Buffy-wearing-Spike's-shirt just to please you. That, in fact, was already in there. Also, there was an extended scene in here that I added to honor those that had requested it the first time I posted this story. If you've read this story before, and you know which particular scene I'm talking about, then you understand ~_^ As always, keep reviewing!

Chapter #11 - bad buffy, part 1/2

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part XI... .:bad buffy:. part one of two Her eyes were still wide-open about an hour later. What Spike had said to her so quietly, so secretly had effectively stunned her awake. Why? Why did he have to go and say those words now of all times, when she’d just started to get used to their very... unique situation? Dammit, Spike! she thought, craning her neck slightly to look up at the smooth, porcelain beauty of his face. Why oh why did you have to make this so difficult now? It wasn’t that she didn’t care about him -- she did care -- sometimes too much, she thought. It was obvious in the things she did with him, and besides, it was too exhausting to keep denying it. The playful teasing, the “couple fun” innuendoes, and days ago, when Riley had stabbed him and dislocated his shoulder. She’d spent an entire hour with him the day after it had happened, strictly business -- just taking care of him, and getting him used to rotating his shoulder again. And they’d had fun. Fun was not a word she normally associated with love -- er, relationships. Not the L-word, never that. But they'd been so relaxed around each other -- they’d poked and teased at each other, talked and laughed... she’d seen a side of Spike that no one had ever been allowed to see. She’d seen him happy. But what if he was just leading her on? What if he didn’t really love her? Maybe he’d sensed that she'd been awake, and had said that to throw her off? What if he was just gonna keep on with this little act, until she’d completely fallen victim to him, leaving her off guard enough so that he could kill her? And it wasn’t just that. She didn’t love him back. She didn’t know what she felt for him, but it certainly wasn't love. Loving someone meant pain as far as Buffy Summers was concerned. She'd loved her father, and the bastard had left them in the divorce anyway, refusing to even talk to them anymore. Loving Angel had meant having to kill Angel. Then getting him back, only to lose him all over again when he left for her "own good." Please. Loving people other than Mom, Dawn, and the Scoobies was a bad thing. Her friends and Giles had stayed with her for five years already, and Mom and Dawn, fake memories of the latter or not, had always been a part of her life and always would be. She couldn't let Spike in. Besides... If she didn’t love him, then he couldn’t leave her. Except that now she knew that he was in love with her. She was infinitely sure that she didn’t love him back... maybe... but this proved a difficult situation. Could she really let Spike stay around , knowing that he loved her, and not do anything about it? Was that fair to him? And suddenly she realized -- he hadn’t meant for her to hear. If he’d wanted to tell her he loved her, then he would’ve said so, out loud, face-to-face. Spike had never done anything less than how he meant it -- despite who he was, he wore his heart on his sleeve, and if he loved her, he would have said it to her face, when she was awake, when he knew she would hear him. Instead, he’d made sure to say it when he thought she was asleep. He’d hoped she wouldn’t hear him. Well, this could be a good thing. Maybe it meant that he didn’t really love her. Especially since he’d had the cowardice to tell her while she'd slept. Or maybe it was just because... he did love her, but he loved her too much... and he was scared that she'd reject him... Ugh. She was his complete opposite. Spike was a revered member of the Undead Citizens of Sunnydale, the oldest and most powerful Master in Sunnydale. If it got around that he was in love with the Slayer, then he’d probably be killed. Or there would at least be attempts made on his life, because honestly, if his fighting ability was anything to go by, any demon that tried to attack him might as well have a coffin and a burial plot prepared for them a week in advance. But Spike was never a very conventional vampire to begin with. He’d always broken the rules. Hell, he was breaking them right now, simply by being with her. If he couldn’t even follow through with habit and allow it to get around that he was even more of a traitor to his kind by being in love with her, then what the hell was the point? She was starting to suspect that the very point was that he was ashamed of his feelings for her. And somehow that cut worse than if he’d been planning to gut her in her sleep all along. She couldn’t work with this. She had to find a way to turn him off of her. And she would do anything -- anything -- to do it. A week later, and Buffy's head was still spinning from Spike's confession. Spike hadn't said a word to her about the 'L'-word when they woke up the morning... or afternoon -- whatever -- after the Dawn rescue. He didn't need to. His feelings were in his eyes, and they were obvious every time he looked at her. It scared Buffy more than anything, because after all these years of trying to understand vampires, everything fell flat when she was faced with Spike. How could anyone feel so much? More importantly, how could Spike feel so much? With just a glance? Not to mention without his soul? And if Spike, without the soul could... then how was it that Angel, without his soul... couldn't? It was too mind-boggling to understand sometimes. She had followed Spike's cue from that night, and never said a word about what he'd said to her, choosing instead to act like everything was normal -- well, normal for her. Since the night of the Dawn Discovery, and despite her initial reservations, Spike had taken to sharing her bed with her, since she'd fight him tooth and fang about spending the night at the crypt. Also, despite her confusion regarding Spike's feelings for her... and her feelings for him, which had now been called into question because Spike couldn't keep his damn emotions in check... she had to admit -- It felt really nice to share a bed with someone who... cared. In fact, it was where they were now, curled against each other as they had done every night -- much to Giles' consternation when he had overheard Spike talking to Buffy about it in the kitchen. Last night, when Spike had climbed into the bed behind her, he had wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her back against him. She had given a soft, contented sigh and snuggled into him, covering his hands with hers. They had slept like that for the better part of the night. When her eyes opened the next morning, Buffy found herself being rolled flat on to her back, the sensation of soft, cool lips trailing against the shell of her ear, and an equally cool hand running up her thigh. Opening her eyes, Buffy looked up and was met with dancing, sparkling blue irises. Spike grinned, then ducked his head, pressing his mouth against her cheek, her chin, and her throat. He’d woken up next to her, and the better part of an hour had been spent watching her face as she slept. Spike didn’t know how he’d managed not to revert into a primal state -- vampire, human, or otherwise -- right then and there, but he was semi-grateful to whatever self-control he had that had suppressed it. He had the feeling that if he hadn’t, he would probably have been rolled right out the window by now. He hadn’t been able to resist after a while, and his body began moving of it’s own volition, aching to kiss and touch her. The black shirt that he had left behind at the house after they had started their affair had seemingly become Buffy's favorite night shirt -- actually, he knew it was, because she refused to take it off except when it needed washing. As it stood, she wore it tonight, to his great delight -- it was surprising how arousing it was to see Buffy wearing something of his in her sleep. He was pretty sure she had nothing on under there. He glanced up tentatively toward the window, noting with little surprise that the shades had already been drawn shut, save for a little slit where a tiny stream of light entered. He snorted, hoping against all hope that the thin sheet drawn across his hips was enough to keep his highly-flammable parts from combusting. He turned his attention back to Buffy, who was gazing up at him. Her face was slightly bemused, and her eyes held a glazed sheen that made her look all the more drowsy. He placed his hand on her belly and returned to worshipping her skin with his lips. Buffy sighed and slumped in his arms. Okay, so she wasn’t going to be breaking it off with him anytime soon especially since this was a really good thing to wake up to, like someone was preparing breakfast and was setting the measured amounts on the counter: she was the right amount of sleepy (and, frankly, horny) and Spike had just the right amount of "Dear God, I'm So Hot" radiating off of him -- and right into her with each hungry brush of his lips. And, hey, tongue. Buffy rolled to her side, pushing him back and tilting her face toward his, intent on capturing said tongue in her mouth. She was suddenly aching to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands roaming her body. It felt so wonderful when he touched her, and worrying about That Night was a hassle. In this moment, she couldn't care less. She just wanted him. Spike eagerly complied to her very clear request for lip-wrestling, pressing his mouth tightly against hers and pulling her close. Buffy’s arms slid around his waist, and her lips pressed back desperately, teasing and biting at his mouth until Spike was growling and overcome with want. He pushed her onto her back again, this time sliding his lithe body over hers, pressing her down gently into the mattress. It helped immensely that Spike wasn’t a bulging, rolling heap of muscle like Angel and Riley had been. Otherwise, she might have suffocated. “Buffy,” he muttered softly between kisses, sliding his hands slowly along her legs. Buffy moaned softly as Spike pressed against her, all-too-clearly feeling his want and need, hardening further with each passing second. As one hand grasped her waist firmly, he allowed the other to sneak under the long, black T-shirt, moving quickly up her side from her bare hip, up her bare belly, and to the bottom swell of her breast. Cupping the soft globe of flesh, his index finger and thumb affixed themselves on her nipple and gently squeezed, tugging on the tender nub. Spike’s lips covered her own, swallowing the loud moan she gave at the gratifying, but almost painful stimulation. One long, tanned leg wrapped around his hip, and her bare foot gently nudged his rear, tugging him closer to her. Her sneaky little fingers scrabbled at the bare expanse of his chest, thinking how utterly grateful she was that Spike hadn't worn a shirt to bed tonight. Spike followed her lead, nearly tearing the shirt she still wore in his fervency to get the bloody thing off of her. Almost as soon as it had been thrown across the room, probably never to be found until six months in the future, he dove face first into her naked breasts, attaching his lips to the nipple his fingers had favored moments before and sucking fiercely. Buffy managed to clap her hand over her mouth before she let out a scream to wake the undead and grasped at the back of his head with the other, pulling him closer and closer to her. She couldn’t get enough of him. Which was probably going to be very bad, considering she still had to tell him that he needed to back off and she couldn’t love him. God, Buffy, you are such a fool. You don’t want to be in a relationship with him, but you still can’t get enough of his touch? Bad Buffy! Stupid, hypocritical Buffy! Stupid voices. She willed them to shut up. Shh. Go away. Fooling around with Spike. Fight later. Against their will, Buffy pushed the voices into the very back of her mind, far, far away where she could forget about them. If she couldn’t hear the voices, they weren’t really there. Focused now, she pushed herself close to the vampire’s searching mouth. Suddenly frantic for the full sensation of his body against hers, her fingers moved between them, jerking his jeans apart with one sharp yank. Spike, through the red haze in his mind, vaguely realized what she was doing and conceded, allowing her to shove the jeans down his strong legs. He pulled away from her breast and forced his mouth against hers once more as he kicked his pants off of his feet and onto the ground. Naked Spike! the (somewhat stunned) working part of Buffy’s brain informed, her inner self squealing in childish glee. She could feel his rock-hard erection pressing firmly into her thigh, so, so burningly close to her aching pussy, and her arousal doubled almost instantly. She was craving him, and it was a wonder that she hadn’t yet thrown him below her and ridden him into oblivion yet. Actually, she didn't need to -- Spike was taking care of that part. He couldn’t stop -- didn’t want to stop, and probably never would be able to, even if Buffy asked him. Straight-minded tunnel vision, he saw the object of his desire, and went for it. Cool, experienced fingers found their way inside of her and Buffy had to do all she could not to scream and sob in pleasure. Spike nipped her lower lip gently, then sucked it into his mouth as he began to work her, his hand flush against her pelvic bone, his thumb running circles all around her sensitive clit before pressing right into it and rubbing. His tongue pressed against her lip, and suddenly Buffy felt him bite into it, then suck it in even further. Yeah, like she wasn't already as wet as the Pacific -- Spike was making it worse, rather than better. Desperately, she maneuvered her hips, forcing his body to settle between her legs, the velvety tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. She kissed him heatedly, one hand on the back of his head, and wrapped her left leg firmly around his right. The other leg floundered, then arched at the knee, settling her foot firmly against the mattress. She thrust her hips up. Spike gave a low growl and pulled away, looking down at her. Buffy looked back at him as calmly as possible, which wasn’t working too well because if he didn’t start moving within the next minute she was gonna pin him to the floor and fuck him right back to death. Spike slowly began rotating his hips, pressing the head of his cock against her clit, refusing to enter her just yet. Buffy’s arms began to thrash and she nearly started to weep in frustration. A lock of her sweat-drenched hair fell across her brow and Spike tenderly pushed it away, pausing in his impromptu torture session. “What is it, luv? What do you want?” he asked, voce sotto. She gazed up at him, fingers clenched in his platinum curls, her eyes wild and frenzied. “Spike, please,” she gasped hoarsely, “please, I need you inside of me." He swallowed hard. Well, here it was. The big step. The one he'd been waiting for. Did he really want this? This was a sin, this was; his demonic body defiling the body of a Slayer? It had to be a sin to fuse God’s light with the Devil’s darkness, to completely and entirely corrupt a Slayer and divest her of her purity. Ah, fuck it. He was a vampire, he was fucked for eternity no matter what he did. Might as well add the sexual corruption of the Slayer to the list. Not like Buffy was all that innocent, anyway. His eyes blazed gold for one exact second as he slid into the Slayer’s body. Both eyes widened, and breathing exploded into shocked gasps. And time actually stopped. They stared, stunned, into each other's eyes for a countless number of minutes before either reacted. It was Buffy who broke the silence, giving a low moan as her hips twitched, her inner muscles fluttering around Spike's girth. “Spike,” she whimpered, grabbing at him convulsively. He buried his face in her shoulder, giving one loud groan. “Oh, god, Buffy..." So hot. Scalding, almost. Incredibly tight. Maybe he was wrong about her innocence, because she felt almost virginal. Why the hell was that? She was practically ripping the skin right off of his cock, and neither had even moved yet! Moving. Right, he should probably do that now, even though it felt like he could come right then and there just resting inside of her. He slowly began to withdraw from her tight passage, before sliding equally slowly back in. Oh, this wasn’t going to take long. A few more strokes, and he'd be set off like firecrackers. Faster and faster, he began to pump, murmuring soft, tender words at first, then moving on to blissful obscenities as movements increased. Buffy’s hips arched off of her bed at each stroke, the Slayer lulled herself into a joyfully pre-orgasmic state by the feeling of entirety her lover was giving her. Moans and kitten-mews and gasps were voiced loudly as she writhed under him, thrusting her hips right back at his, their pelvises colliding with vigor. God, he'd been enormous just looking at him, just having him in her mouth, but she hadn’t really had any idea of how big he really was until he’d buried himself in her body. She had a feeling that she now knew where half of his more dicey monikers came from. It was so incredible, unlike anything she’d ever even felt before. He fit her completely, in every single way, his body pressed tight against hers, interlocking in all the right places, and even his cock fit her perfectly. Just the right length, right to the center, and it pushed at her belly with each thrust. Wait -- why was she thinking of breaking things off again? She couldn’t remember. Her brain had gone on sensory meltdown as soon as Spike had started touching her. She might as well have brain damage now, because there was no possible way she was going to even remember her own name after this. All she knew right now was that she and Spike were having sex, and it was the best experience she’d ever had. Spike snarled softly at the touch of Buffy's nails scratching down his back. If the Powers struck him down right then for banging their warrior of light, Spike would die a very happy man. He’d thought That Night - and the past week since then - had been perfect, just holding her and falling asleep with her in his arms. This beat that by about a million to one. This was like being transported to his very own Utopia - like he could bear to touch the sun. That big stupid bleeding yellow ball in the sky had finally found the perfect way to get to Spike, transferring its light from Buffy to him, and though it was scalding him, setting him on fire, it was only in the best possible way. He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of the Slayer’s gasps, which were becoming increasingly louder and higher with each push closer to the edge. “Yes,” she repeated, panting each time Spike’s hips slammed into her own. “Harder, more,” she begged, and each plea ignited something inside of him, making him work harder to give her the best orgasm of her life. One hand moved down slowly as his lips founds hers again, and dug between her legs, easily maneuvering to her clit. Fingering it, he forced himself to wait until his hand had finally been soaked by her juices, then pulled his mouth away from hers, lifting his hand to his face and slipping the wet fingers into his mouth. Buffy allowed an aroused moan to escape her lips before pulling his face back down to hers. Spreading her legs apart farther and lifting them over his shoulders, he pushed into her faster and harder, angling himself to find the delicate patch of nerve endings inside of her, causing her to bite at his lips in an effort to keep her cries down. Something inside of Spike snapped when she bit his mouth and he drove his body viciously into hers, slapping his hand down over her mouth to keep the Slayer from waking up the other two women in the house. It was an ungodly time to get up, being seven in the morning, and it was a good thing that both Dawn and Joyce slept like the dead, but with Buffy's luck, they'd hear a pin drop and wake up, so as far as she was concerned, Spike's hand over her mouth was of the good. She wiggled her body under Spike’s, then bucked harder, squeezing her muscles and strangling the cock within her. Spike’s eyes popped open and he dove down, burying his face in her neck and letting out a choked groan of pleasure as her legs tumbled down, refastening themselves around his waist. His fingers made their way up her body, back to her nipples, and he pinched each one, forcing Buffy to give a yelp. She countered with a bite to his shoulder with her blunt teeth -- Spike drew an astounded breath before finally taking a chance and allowing his game face to appear, opening his mouth. He attacked like a viper and slid his fangs into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, covering his own markings. Quick and painless. Suctioning his lips around the wounds, his feeding grew hungry and sensual. The sensation overpowered Buffy -- it was true that usually a vampire’s bite hurt. But that was when they intended to kill someone. She got the feeling that killing her wasn’t particularly what Spike had in mind any more. A vampire bite during sex was supposed to equal the most intense pleasure a body had ever known. But it had never been experienced between a vampire and a willing human before. And never had that human been a Slayer. The results? Buffy buried her face in Spike’s neck, opening her mouth and crying out, her screams muffled by the vampire. The girl was catapulted through her orgasm as clearly as a rocket was shot from a launching pad into the outer limits of space. Her body tensed, then began to convulse, jerking spasmodically against Spike’s as her insides clutched and tightened. She grasped at him tightly, then threw her head back and let out a long, low moan as she spasmed and came hard, her juices flooding and scorching him. Spike allowed a growl to rip past his lips from the heat, and plunging his hips into hers twice more, he came, barreling right behind Buffy, his come firing into the depths of her body. His body shivered and as the last drop was expelled from him, he collapsed heavily on top of her. Weakly moaning, she allowed her legs to drop from his waist, cradling his hips between them. Both brains were on hold for the next ten minutes, neither sure what to say other than ‘wow.’ Finally Spike looked up, staring her directly in the eyes, his expression thoughtful. He raised a hand and gently ran his thumb down her jaw until his palm cupped her chin. Shifting, he kissed her lips gently, then rolled onto his back next to her. “Go on wash up, pet,” he suggested softly, a slightly bewildered smile one his face. Buffy couldn’t resist a grin at the tone of his voice. He sounded as though he’d just been shown the ancient hidden treasures of King Tut. Not greedy -- just extremely awed, and amazed. Also, his voice was cracking. Haha. Spike’s going through puberty again. She took his advice and stood up, looking for her robe and wrapping it around her when she found it. Buffy fumbled her way toward the bathroom, then securely locked the door behind her. She turned to look at herself in the mirror. The realization of what had happened hit her as soon as she saw her reflection. She sighed and clapped her hands over her eyes. “Shit. I just had sex with Spike." This was definitely not going to help things along. Glory rolled her eyes as she lay on the couch in her apartment, her foot lolling about. Needless to say, the goddess was supremely annoyed. “He’s getting stronger. I’m losing him. I’m losing control of him!” She pulled both legs up and threw them across the arm of the sofa, nearly kicking two of her demon lackeys, Jinx and Murk. Despite nearly being knocked unconscious by a pair of bright red Gucci pumps, Jinx gazed at her with eyes of adoration. “You're speaking of Ben, most glamorous yet tasteful one?” he asked. It really was quite amazing how the disgusting little blobs flattered her. Glory glared at him. “He stabbed you in your body,” she grumbled. Murk held his hand up, as if asking permission to speak. “Jinx is all right, your highness. And we do have the new knowledge that the key is a human being.” Glory grumbled and sat up, gazing at the foul little beast. “If time runs out on us and all we're left with is info? Then we're screwed,” she informed. Right. Like the morons understood that. “Oh, surely not!” Jinx cried, beginning the first wave attempt at comforting the goddess. Glory shook her head quickly, her blonde curls going everywhere as she leaned back. “No, we’re screwed!" “But you are a god! The sacred Glorificus!” Murk said, joining in with the effort. Glory sighed. “I’m a god in exile. Far from the hellfires of home and... sharing my body with an enemy that stabs my boys in their,” she paused momentarily, poking Jinx in his stomach, causing the demon to wince and groan in pain. “Fleshy little stomachs." She leaned back once again, ignoring Jinx, and closed her eyes. “Ugh! I’m in pain!" “How can we help?” Jinx asked quickly. “We will lay down our lives!" Glory stopped for a moment, tilting her head as she pondered the question. Then she stood up and looked around at her minions. “The Slayer and the Key are connected. She's going to have contact with it. For all I know it could be those stupid witch bitches, her freak boyfriend with that radioactive hair, or that exasperating little sister of hers. I don't care -- but I do know that it has to be someone in her circle. Watch her. Find out who she cares for most." Murk nodded hastily. “We can do that O... thou.” A confused look appeared on his face at his last word. It was clear that he’d run out of steam in preparation for a new term of endearment. Glory continued, gaining speed. “I want to hear about everyone she has contact with! That girl has my Key --” The demons instantly bowed their heads, “-- and I’m trusting you boys to get it for me. If you love me...” The demons looked up again, eyes filled with devotion to the goddess. “... get it for me." The monks looked back at each other, smiles wide on their ugly little faces. Glory smirked. Those ugly little scabs were so... helpful. “I had sex with Spike. I had sex... with Spike. Spike and I had sex. Oh, boy." No matter how many times she said it, it still wouldn't entirely sink in. And if she wasn’t careful, Buffy was going to find herself a nice little VIP spot on the Wall of Insanity. It was bad enough that she’d been doing this mentally from the moment Spike left this morning. She’d come out of the bathroom with the true meaning of ‘dazed and confused’ spray-painted all over her face. After they’d dressed, Buffy had ushered Spike as quickly and quietly down the stairs as she could, and had begun to lead him toward the kitchen, only to be stopped short by the sound of pans banging together against the stove. Shit! Mom! She backtracked, yanking Spike toward the foyer and looked at him, wide-eyed. “How fast can you run?” she asked. He gave her a Look, then rolled his eyes and bared his fangs as an answer, interpretation being, “Duh. Vampire." Buffy looked down sheepishly. “Right,” she muttered. “Look, if you don’t want to go poof, you’re gonna need to be like a gunshot, Spike. Are you going to use the tunnels or just run straight to the crypt?" Spike shot her his lower lip. “Why can’t I just stay in the basement till nightfall?" She glared at him. “Because my mom actually goes in the basement, and she would find you. Easily. And then she’ll wonder why you’re here, and I don’t particularly feel like explaining to her that when you spent the night this time, we woke up... doing things to each other." Spike grinned, a full eye-crinkling, teeth-baring grin. “Is that how you're referrin' to it, Slayer? Cuz usually I just call it --" Her hand slammed down over his mouth. “Not another word out of you if you wanna make it home with everything on your body intact and in correct working order." Spike casually ran his tongue over her palm, smiling when he felt Buffy shudder and a small thrum of desire bolt through her. She took her hand off his mouth and he grabbed it, then wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’s all right, luv. I’ll go, an’ you won’t have to explain a thing to your dear old mum. An’ if she happens to see me, just let her know that I came to check up on you an’ the Nibblet. Right, pet?” He touched her chin, lifting her face up to meet his gaze. Buffy nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip. Spike ducked his head a bit, touching his lips to hers quickly. “Don’t need to tell anyone, pet. ‘S just between you an’ me.” He pulled away and Buffy nodded again. Like she’d been planning on telling anyone anyway. She’d just fucked her mortal enemy/ally/sometime-comrade -- in her bed! As opposed to fucking him off the bed, right, Buff? Goddamn that stupid sarcastic inner voice. Shut up! she yelped, firmly shoving it away. She watched at the door as Spike stepped onto the porch, gathered his duster over his head, then took off down the street, stopping at a sewer entrance, lifting the lid and jumping into the tunnels below. She giggled to herself. Spike was the only vampire she knew who ran around town under the sun, despite the whole "ouch" factor in his regards. Actually... Spike was the only vampire she knew personally. That had stayed in Sunnydale, anyway. Shaking her head, she’d turned back into the house, and gone about her business, all the while cursing herself. “He’s in love with you, and you sleep with him when you say you want to turn him off of you,” she chided herself. And it went on like that for the rest of the day. Buffy ranted and raved, cursing at herself for her stupidity. Horny!Buffy, the part of her that had taken over when Spike had started the entire situation, finally replied to the contradicting voices that she had shoved to the back of her brain. That is enough! You wanted it, and you know it -- stop acting like a child! Okay, true. She had wanted it. But she hadn’t been entirely in control of her body then. She hadn’t had sex in a while. All she and Spike had been doing was fooling around orally. Actual penetration was a completely different thing, something Buffy had been lacking for a bit. She hadn’t meant to give in to Spike. Even though it had been an earth-shattering encounter. Especially when he’d sunk his teeth -- Ack! No! Bad Buffy! No thinking of the evil vampire and the bities! This was not good. Actually, it was good, but in a very different context than she would’ve preferred it to be. Thoughts of Spike were taking over her mind, when she should have been concentrating more than ever on Glory. The goddess was getting closer and closer to finding out the truth, and that was so beyond the realm of everything good and bad. She was not going to let someone she loved, someone innocent, get hurt, all because she couldn’t keep her hands off of a pushy, gorgeous vampire. That did it. She had to be serious this time. She wasn’t going to let Spike take over. She was going to be strong, and selfish for the right reasons. And as much as she wanted him to be, Spike was not the right reason. Dawn was. Her mother was. Giles, Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara were. She was not going to jeopardize the lives of the countless innocents the world over just for Spike. No matter how much it hurt. Continued in part 2...

Chapter #12 - bad buffy, part 2/2

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ... part XI ... .:bad buffy:. part two of two As night fell, she took to the streets, not to continue her nightly patrols, or to search for the demon goddess. Instead, she wandered around in a graveyard that was about five streets away from Spike’s, trying to get up the nerve to go and tell him that their short-lived romance had to come to an end. Abruptly, Buffy made an about-face and began heading down those five streets to confront the latest addition to her list of Relationships That Start Out Badly. As she arrived at the crypt, Spike swung the door open, bare-chested and smug, startling her. He grinned and nodded toward the inside of his crypt. Obviously, he’d been expecting her. Stupid presumptuous vampire. “Have a good day, luv?” he questioned, tilting his head and fumbling around the sarcophagus for something... the sarcophagus that was covered in silk sheets that she was positive Spike had stolen, no matter how pretty and comfy they looked. She shrugged. “It was... uneventful, I guess,” she answered. Spike stood up straight and raised an eyebrow, shooting her a smoldering look. Buffy felt her cheeks flush as she realized what that look was inquiring. “Um... except for that." The 1000-watt grin reappeared and he resumed his search. “Good to know.” He straightened again, holding a bottle of bourbon around the neck in his fist. Hah! I knew it. My boyfriend's an alcoholic. She eyed the drink as he unscrewed the top and took a gulp. Then he set it back down and motioned to her, holding out his hand. “C’mere,” he said softly. Instantly, she knew what he was thinking. Her mouth opened, preparing to decline his hand, but no words came out. Looking in his eyes, and seeing the hope and desire for her, she relented. Okay... one more time wouldn’t hurt. One more time, and then she’d tell him it was over. He'd at least be left with a good memory that way. Right? Buffy took a hold of his hand and allowed him to pull her into his arms. Both of his hands spanned her waist, and he lifted her onto the silken sheets gracing the stone casket. His hands quickly began to unbutton her blouse, and as he slid it off her shoulders, he looked up at her, his face serious. Buffy stared back at him silently, then wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him fervently, closing her eyes to his so that he wouldn't see the wetness pooling there. She didn't want to let this go. But she had to. For the sake of her innocent little sister and the world, she had to. Spike held her tightly and kissed her back, then trailed his lips down her neck, sucking on the skin lightly. Her fingernails ran up and down his back, stroking gently as he pushed her back and climbed on top of her. Reaching under her, Spike grasped for her bra, then growled softly when the hooks refused to release. “I swear to God, the bastard that made these infernal contraptions should’ve been hung by his toes and had his neck snapped, and if he didn’t, I should’ve done it!” he growled, getting very close to biting right through the damn straps. Buffy's mood lightened momentarily, and she gave a soft peal of laughter, arching her back and unclasping the “infernal contraption” easily. As Spike’s focus drifted to the top of one of her breasts, she stroked his hair, and tilted her head back as he began raining kisses over the soft mounds. Unconsciously he helped Buffy pull the cursed thing off of her shoulders, revealing the rest of her breasts to him, and she gave a soft cry as his lips moved down to suck on a nipple. Unheedingly, she threw the bra across the room, not caring where the hell it landed. For the second time that day, Buffy reached down and unfastened his pants, helping him slide them down his legs and leaving him strong, visibly aroused, and completely nude as the day he’d been born. Spike’s hand shot for her own pants, yanking the things down her legs and leaving her in a tiny black lace thong that, unfortunately (for Buffy), did not last long when Spike’s arousal got the best of him, causing him to rip them right off and chuck them over his shoulder. His mouth once again met with Buffy’s skin and he kissed an insane, winding path over her neck, chest, breasts, stomach and down to her pelvis, nuzzling the insides of her thighs. He breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of her arousal, indulging in the fact that it was all for him, that Buffy savored this as much as he did. He lips pressed against the mouth of her pussy and he slid out his tongue, tracing the lips. But he didn’t linger. He stopped long enough to get a small taste and a soft moan from Buffy, then began to kiss his way back up her body. “God, I love you,” he mumbled, half-realizing what he’d just said, partly horrified that he’d let it slip, and partly relieved because he’d finally said it, and he relished the salty tinge of her skin from the beginnings of her perspiration. Buffy heard him quite clearly. And that alerted her, reminding her of her mission. She swallowed hard, and looked around frantically. Spike wasn’t gonna stop without just cause and she needed one hell of a cause to get him off and away from her. Damn it, what would Giles tell her to do? What would Mom say, or Angel... Wait. Angel. That was it. “Buffy,” she heard her name tumble softly from Spike’s lips. Closing her eyes tightly, in part to play the role, and in part to avoid the look of horror she knew she would see, Buffy breathed deeply, leaned back and moaned. Someone else’s name. “Angel." The pang of regret was so instantaneous that it felt like she'd been slashed through the heart with a blunt knife. But it worked. Tentatively opening her eyes, she was met with the exact expression she'd been so desperate not to see. Spike had stilled and then straightened almost immediately, and was now staring down at her with wide, shocked eyes. Betrayed eyes. The hurt she saw dug deep inside of her, making her heart twist, making her wince internally, making nausea well up and giving her the intense urge to vomit at what she’d just pulled. At the stupid, stupid thing she’d just said. Spike was still staring at her, disbelief clouding his eyes. And he was backing away from her fast. “Angel?” he whispered. “You were thinking of... Angel?” he asked, stunned, the disgust clear in his voice. And suddenly, Buffy was not herself anymore. The cruel, heartless part of her -- the Slayer part of her -- the one that kept insisting that this entire thing she’d started with Spike had been nothing but a mistake from the very start, took over and forced her to nod. The part of her that had formed a loving attachment to Spike was abruptly shoved to the back, shackled and chained in the cerebellum, unable to do anything but watch in horror at what was happening. Spike swallowed hard. “And... that first time...? You thought of Angelus when I was inside of you.” He wouldn’t look at her. He was staring sullenly at the wall, his expression slowly becoming blank and void of any emotion whatsoever. “Of course,” she replied cruelly, her inner mind unable to believe the hostility in her words. She saw Spike flinch and Buffy-the-Slayer continued. “You don’t think I actually gave a damn about you, do you? You were just something to tide me over until I found a replacement for Riley. Have to say though -- you gave great bone. At least you were good for something." No... No! Stop it! Stop right this minute! What are you doing? Buffy-the-Girl shrieked from her confines. How can you say that to him? There was nothing but silence for a few minutes. Buffy kept her eyes on Spike, waiting to see his reaction. Slowly, he began to move, picking up her clothes. He handed them to her, then waited for her to dress again. He, however, remained nude. When she was fully dressed, she looked to him again. Buffy-the-Slayer spoke once again. “Look, I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea. You do realize that you’re a vampire, right? And I’m the Slayer. It could never work. Not that I wanted it to, you know, but come on, Spike. You can’t actually think that I was falling --" “Get out." Buffy looked at him quickly, noticing the muscles in his jaw beginning to twitch. “Seriously, if you really think --" And suddenly she was slammed against the wall, a naked, angry vampire snarling at her, eyes glowing a fiery gold. His hand was wound tightly around her throat. “Get out,” he growled, his upper lip curling in hate and disgust. Not disgust with her. Disgust for himself. For allowing himself to fall so deeply, only to get burned much worse than he’d ever been burned before. And suddenly, Buffy-the-Slayer dropped back in fear, finally slapped silly for the stunt she’d pulled, and Buffy-the-Girl was free, scrabbling desperately at the last scraps of hope to pick up the pieces of what her Slayer self had done. Buffy snapped to, gasping and gazing at him. “Spike? Spike, please, oh, god, I’m so sorry! I am so, so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me, please, Spike, I’m sorry, I didn't mean it!" Spike’s jaw clenched once again, and he flung her down, turning away from her. “Just get out. Don’t come back." She moved toward him, grasping his arm. “Spike, no, please --" Spike snarled viciously and swung his arm back, throwing her into the wall. “GET OUT!” he roared, his eyes blazing a hellish orange. Buffy stared at him, eyes wide with fear, and she began scrambling backwards toward the doors of the crypt. Standing up, her chest began to heave, and she gave a soft sob. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, giving a sob. As she turned and left, Spike sank to the floor against the sarcophagus, putting his head in his hands. Suddenly his fist shot out and slammed into the wall, and he screamed in pain when the vessels and the skin of his hand split at the knuckles, beginning to bleed. “Dammit,” he sighed softly, shutting his eyes. Outside, Buffy cursed her Slayer self several times over, crying quietly. Yeah, she hadn’t wanted to endanger the people of the world because of her feelings for Spike. The problem was... Spike was one of those people. It had slammed into her the second those cruel, cruel words had slipped out of her mouth. The minute she’d seen the hurt in his eyes, she had practically died. Though he could not hear her with the crypt door shut, and though she knew he would probably ignore anything she had to say from now on, she pressed her hand to the door, still crying. "Oh, god, Spike, I'm sorry... I love you so much.... and I'm sorry." As she suspected, the door didn't budge. He wasn't going to come back to her. She had said that she didn’t want to hurt the people she loved. So why had she? Her eyes shut and she gave a soft sob before walking off, her face in her hands. What an interesting turn of the tide. All was clear. A small demon was making sure of that. He motioned back into the bushes about ten feet to the west of Spike’s crypt as the Slayer walked off, her arms wrapped around herself. This was it, this had to be it. They’d been keeping a close eye on the Slayer the entire day, and the only person they had seen come in contact with her had been her vampire lover. The vampire was the one they wanted. Jinx walked out of the bushes confidently, his crumbly little chin high up in the air. Five more demons followed him. Time to get the Key. Spike shifted slightly as his jeans slid over his narrow hips. His face had become a mask of despondency, and after slamming his hand into the wall a few more times, nearly shattering his fist right along with the wall, he refused to make any sound at all. What was the point? He was a fool. He’d been a simpering, puppy-faced fool for even thinking that this bloody thing with the Slayer could ever mean anything to her. All she’d wanted was to get off. And since Spike had shown interest... the victim had been easily established. He should have known better. He could sense it in her when she was dating the Farmboy prat. Riley had just been rebound after she’d lost Angel. And Angel had been the love of her life. Her first love. She would never care about another the way she’d cared about his stupid, fucking, soul-filled Sire. How lovely. That morning, he’d been worried about corrupting the Slayer’s body with his own. This, apparently, was his punishment. He rubbed at his eyes as he fastened his pants. He had barely pulled his shirt over his head when he sensed a demon entering. Turning quickly, he faced the door, then frowned. “Who the hell are you?" Jinx appeared out of the shadows by the doors, followed by several other demons who looked almost exactly like him. “Forgive me for our intrusion, my friend, but I would like a word with you." Spike stared blankly at the little twit. “Nope. Sorry. Not really in a mood to get all talkative." Jinx smiled. “But I insist." Spike tilted his head, noticing that the demons were beginning to circle him. “Well, since you put it that way, lemme think... Uh, still no. Get the fuck out!” He managed to duck in time as he sensed one of the bastards take a swing at his head, then dropped to the floor and swung his leg out, tripping the demon up and sending him flat onto his back. Growling now, Spike looked up, eyes glowing, at Jinx, then ran him down, knocking him to the floor and kicking him. He managed two more kicks before two of the demons grabbed him by the arms. He snarled and sank his fangs into the arm of one, then head-butted the other. Though his rage at Buffy’s betrayal fueled his fight, the demons managed to gain control of him, reducing his efforts to violent struggles. Jinx struggled to stand up, glaring in disgust at the vampire. “Tie his hands! Glory will want him restrained!" Instantly, the demons followed orders and Spike hissed as his arms were drawn sharply behind him, being tied together. With one last-ditch effort to escape, he spun once and kicked the first demon that had attacked him swiftly in the head, his foot landing right in the creature’s upper spinal cord, shattering his neck. He landed in a heap on the ground, dead. Horrified, one of the demons holding the vampire’s arms grasped a brick off the ground and smacked it into Spike’s head. The blonde bloodsucker let out a cry of pain, arching backwards as he attempted to close his eyes to the thrums of agony. “Let me go!” he howled, his attempts at struggle not stopping, but becoming less effective. Jinx stomped over and violently smacked the demon that had hit Spike. “Careful with him! Did it not occur to you that she would want the Key intact?!" Spike’s breathing had become harsh, labored gasps, and his head shot up at the mention of the Key, his eyes wide. “Key? Who’s a Key? I’m not the --" Jinx angrily stuffed something into Spike’s mouth, to Spike’s desperate but now-muffled protests. His struggles did not cease, and he kept shouting through the dirty-feeling cotton that had been used as a silencer as he was dragged away. They think I’m the Key? Oh, bloody hell... Spike, ol’ boy, you’ve gotten yourself into it now. The remaining demons took no notice of their dead comrade, lying on the ground with his neck in such an awkward position. They lugged Spike out of the crypt. The door of his crypt slammed shut. “Dentist appointment go okay?” Tara asked as she walked Dawn out of the orthodontist’s office. Dawn nodded arrogantly, baring her teeth in a wide grin. “Proud to say no cavities, no need for any fillings, no teeth falling out, and no tell-tale signs of the vampire pointies. Statler was glad. He gave me a Blow-Pop. Does that make any sense? A dentist giving you sugar to rot your teeth? Well, I guess it makes sense, you know, so that you can go back and get screwed out of lots more money for it. Hey, doctors are pretty smart!" Tara just giggled at the over-exuberant teenager. “Are you sure Dr. Statler didn’t put you on the happy gas before you left?" Dawn stuck her tongue out. “Very funny.” Then she turned to Tara excitedly. “Ooh, can we go visit Spike before we head to the Magic Box? It’s okay if I go see him, Buffy just says that I need someone with me just in case some of Glory’s goons are around. Please can we go?" Tara smiled, nodding. “Sure, Dawnie. But we can’t stay long, because after we hit the Magic Box, I hafta get you home. We don’t want your mom to worry." Dawn squealed, jumping up excitedly. “Definitely! Thank you!” She grabbed the witch’s hand and began racing to the crypt. “Come on!" When they arrived at the crypt, the first thing Dawn noticed was that everything was in disarray. Which was odd, because whenever she’d been to Spike’s before, everything had been in perfect place. Spike was a closet neat freak, just like how Buffy was a closet pig. Tara followed her in, a slight frown on her face. “Where is he?” she asked, confused. Dawn frowned. She was starting to get an uneasy feeling. The feeling only intensified when she saw Spike’s adored leather duster lying on the ground. “I don’t know, but his duster’s here... Tara, something’s wrong, Spike would never go anywhere without his duster. This thing is like his child, he never lets it out of his sight!" Tara eyed the coat. “Well, maybe he was in a hurry. An emergency came up, or --" “Tara, Buffy, Mom and I are his emergencies. And there’s nothing wrong with any of us. Something happened, and I’m gonna find out -- is that blood?” Dawn had caught sight of the dents and blood spills covering the walls next to the sarcophagus. Okay, now she was scared. “Oh... oh, Tara, it’s blood. What if it’s Spike’s blood? What if something awful happened to him? And -- oh, god, there’s more right there, look!” The teen pointed to a spot on the floor where the brick had fallen. It clearly had to have been aimed at Spike if it had opened a wound in his skull big enough to dribble such a large amount of blood. Dawn began trembling violently. Oh, god. Spike had been attacked. Tara didn’t want to admit it, but it did look as if something had happened to Spike. She moved over to Dawn and wrapped her arms around the frantic girl, hugging her close. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay, Dawnie, I promise. We’ll find out what happened, I promise you." Dawn gasped and sniffled quietly into Tara’s sheer green floral-print shirt, until she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She lifted her head, still sniffling, and wiped at her eyes. In a slow, quiet voice, she asked, “What’s that?" The Wicca looked behind her and noticed a big brown boot on the floor next to the sarcophagus. She let go of Dawn for a moment and walked over cautiously. Bending down, Tara none-to-eagerly poked at the thing, then rolled it over, revealing the dead demon. The witch quickly pulled away, putting her hand over her mouth and grimacing. “Oh... oh, god... His neck was snapped. I think the only other person that could do something like that besides Buffy is Spike, so he must have had a fight in here.” She stood up and sighed. “Dawn, come on, we should -- Dawn?” Tara looked at Dawn, who’s face had crumbled and was now a mask of horror as she stared at the dead heap. “That’s... Isn’t that one of Glory’s minions?” the girl asked in a shaking voice. Tara gazed at Dawn with trepidation, then quickly looked back down at the demon. “Oh my god.” She looked to Dawn again, who was beginning to visibly shake in fear. “She’s got Spike,” the teen whispered, her voice taking on a high-pitched, deranged note. “She’s taken Spike. Oh my god, Tara, Glory has him! We have to get him back, we have to get to him! Tara, please, let’s go find Buffy, please, we’ve got to get him back!" Dawn’s pleas had become frantic shrieks, and tears were flowing down her pale cheeks. Tara quickly wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl and walked out of the crypt, heading directly for the Magic Box. And suddenly, Dawn regained her senses, breaking into a run. “Dawn!” Tara called desperately, then chased after her. Her eyes were still rimmed red from a crying session the likes of which she hadn't had the strength for since her parents had divorced so long ago. Staring blankly at the training room wall, Buffy felt numb -- nothing except Spike could seem to affect her now. And he wasn't going to forgive her. She loved him. She had fallen so deeply, head over heels in love with him that she could lose herself in that love. And he wasn't going to come back to her. She could sense Willow approaching her even before the door to the training room opened. Not turning to face her friend, she stated flatly, “I’m a horrible person." Willow froze, confusion etched on her face. “What?” She didn’t understand. All she could comprehend was that Buffy had scrambled through the door of the Magic Box, tears streaming rapidly down her cheeks, refusing to talk to anyone. And now she was curled up against the wall in the training room, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her chin rested on her knees, and her breathing was erratic, but for all Willow could tell -- Buffy might as well have not been alive. “I’m a horrible person, Willow,” she repeated. The wall she'd constructed seemed to break down again, her face scrunching up as she gave another sob. Willow sat down next to her, her eyes wide. What on earth could make Buffy -- one of the most caring, passionate, loving people that Willow knew -- think something like that? What could make such beautiful person that had befriended a shy, almost friendless girl think she was horrible? Willow shook her head in denial. “No! No, Buffy, you’re not--" Buffy finally looked up and growled, “Oh, cut the bullshit, Willow! I’m a bitch, plain and simple! I’m awful to people, I’m mean, and hurtful, to people that don’t deserve it, even to people I care about!" Willow jumped back, her eyes widening further. “Buffy, did you have a fight with your mom, or Dawn?” The Slayer shook her head quickly, burying her face again. Willow frowned. “What happened?” She remained quiet, refusing to answer. The red-head grumbled under her breath, then shouted, “Buffy, TELL me! I thought we weren’t gonna keep secrets from each other anymore, not after what happened last year!" At that, Buffy seemed to return and looked up again, wiping her eyes. She was silent for about a half a minute more, then drew a deep breath before speaking. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you.” Willow nodded in anticipation. Buffy glanced at her, a bit fearfully. “For the last few months, or however long it's been... I’ve been seeing Spike.” Willow didn’t even have a chance to react before Buffy was off and running again. “The whole thing started the night he got the chip out and bit me, and I tried to push him away, but the more I was around him, the more I wanted to be with him, and Wills, you should’ve seen us the other day, we were teasing each other, joking around, tickling each other and I felt like I was in a real relationship again, and I know this is wrong, but I’ve never felt more happy until we...” Buffy hazarded a look at her best friend, then swallowed hard. “Willow, he’s in love with me." Imagine the Slayer’s surprise when Willow smiled, instead of putting up an enormous, frantic curse on Spike’s head for manipulating her. “I know,” she said softly, touching Buffy’s hand. “I could tell." Buffy looked at her hard, then looked away again. “And I ruined it. He has to hate me now... oh, god, Wills, the things I said to him... no humane person would ever say the things I said to the person that loved them!" Willow’s eyebrows rose and she looked at Buffy in confusion. “What did you do?” she asked. Buffy swallowed hard, covering her face in her hands. “Willow... we... had sex. For the first time this morning. And... when I went to see him again tonight, it was to tell him that we needed to cool it for a while... at least until the Glory thing was blown over... but we kinda got a little... occupied... and he told me he loved me." The Slayer suddenly looked away in shame, tears filling her eyes again. "And I-I called him Angel. Purposely. Right to his face." Willow gaped at her in astonishment. “Buffy! How could you do that?" Buffy shifted and turned toward the Wicca. “I don’t know, it was like something possessed me and forced me to tell him those things, and when I got back in control, I tried so hard to apologize, but he just wouldn’t hear it... And now he’ll never forgive me, I know it. I did the worst thing imaginable that anybody could ever do to him. Willow, I feel so awful, the second I realized what I’d said to him, I’d felt like throwing up, and right now I just wanna die and --" Willow held up her hand. With Buffy rambling so much, it was damn hard trying to wrap her mind around everything. Now she knew Buffy felt awful, because Buffy never rambled. “Wait, wait a sec, Buffy. How do you feel about him?" Silence. Buffy looked away, then buried her face against her legs again. Willow got the feeling that the Slayer was never going to stop crying if she didn’t help, and so she placed a hand on Buffy’s back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t know." “But that’s just it,” Buffy’s choking voice replied. “I do know. Willow, I’m in love with him. And I didn’t even realize it until he kicked me out of his crypt." Willow pulled Buffy into a hug, resting her head on top of the blonde’s. “I kinda got the feeling that you did." Buffy’s face scrunched up, and she started to weep again. “Willow, what am I going to do? I have to get him back, I need him, I love him so much!" Willow looked down at her. “Then tell him. Tell him you love him. It’s the only thing you can really do, and if he doesn’t believe you, then the only thing you can do is just give him time to get it --" “Where’s Buffy? Buffy? BUFFY!" The Slayer instantly shot to attention at the sound of her sister shrieking her name. She wiped her eyes quickly and stood up, walking to the door. Dawn shot through and barreled right into her, grasping at her tightly, screaming and crying at the same time. “She has him! Buffy, she’s got him, Glory took him! We have to get him back, please, we’ve got to save him, Buffy, we’ve got to bring him back!” the teen sobbed hysterically, crying into Buffy’s neck. Dread overcame the Slayer and she looked down at her sister numbly. “Glory has... who?" Tara’s voice came through the doorway, overpowering Dawn’s frantic cries. “Spike.” Buffy looked up at the blonde witch, eyes widening. Tara walked into the room, looking tired and saddened. “We went to visit him, and when we got there, one of Glory’s minions was dead on the floor. Everything was a mess and there was blood on the floor and walls... we figured it had to be Glory that took him. Buffy, you’ve got to go after him, for Dawn’s sake -- look at her." Buffy did just that, staring down at her younger sister. Dawn looked as if she was having a conniption fit, the frenzied, frightened glare shining in her tear-filled eyes doing nothing except confirming it. She hugged Dawn to her tightly, refusing to fall to tears herself. “We’ll find him, Dawnie, I promise. Tara, take Dawn home, please --" “No, I want to go with you, I want Spike back!” Dawn protested, her voice reaching a shriek again. Buffy grabbed Dawn’s face in both hands and looked her in the eyes. “We will find him. But Glory is too dangerous. She’s already got her hands on Spike, I’m not letting her get anywhere near you. I swear to you, the second we get him back, I will call, I promise you that, okay? Let Tara take you home, stay with Mom, it’s safe there." The audible shift in the room startled everyone. The Slayer's eyes hardened, looking like green ice. Her back straightened, and her jaw was set. General Buffy was in charge once again. She turned to Willow. “Come on.” The four of them stormed into the store, catching Xander and Giles’ attention immediately. Anya looked up from the cash register and shuddered at the authoritative aura the Slayer emanated. Instantly, she walked over to the group. Something big was going down, and she most definitely was going be a part of it. “Listen up,” Buffy began, looking around. “Glory’s got Spike. There’s no way in hell that she’s invited him for tea and cookies, so we’re going after him, NOW. He’s vital to the team... and to us,” she looked over at Dawn, then continued. “I have a feeling I know where Glory’s place is, so follow me until we get there. Soon as we hit it, Willow, stick with Anya, make with the magic, Xander, Giles, come with me, get as many goddamn weapons you can get your hands on and use them.” She turned to her sister again, hugging her tightly. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be home in no time, calling you stupid pet names and everything, I promise you." Dawn hugged Buffy back tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. “Be careful. Please come back safe. And please don't leave without him?” Buffy's eyes softened and she kissed Dawn's forehead, then motioned for Tara to take off. Tara quickly embraced Willow and gave her a kiss, whispering, “Please be careful, and don’t over-do the magic, okay?" Willow nodded. “Of course." Tara gave her a weak smile, then took Dawn’s hand and hurried out the door. Giles lugged out his weapons chest and began pulling out all the weapons, tossing Xander a crossbow and an axe. A sleek silver sword was handed to Buffy and she scrutinized it with a fire of fierce determination in her eyes. Grabbing a crossbow and about thirty bolts, she strapped the bow to her back, and slung the sword through her belt. She didn’t even wait for the others to get their things together before she stormed toward the door. “I swear to God, if she so much as looks at him, I’ll rip her skull out through her ass and then beat her to death with it." Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Slayer. TBC.

Chapter #13 - the trials of a hero, part 1/2

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part XII... .:the trials of a hero:. part one of two Two terrified demons managed (with difficulty) to drag a snarling, pissed off man with snapping jaws into the room, despite the fact that his arms were tied securely behind him, and his legs barely had the room to walk. Upon hearing the colossal noise, Glory dropped the magazine she'd been boredly flipping through and stood up from the couch, her eyes wide and gawking. "Wait, I was right? The Slayer's groin buddy is really a green glowy ball of my energy?" she asked, obviously torn between total disgust and delight at the prospect. Her current favorite minions, Jinx and Murk, struggled to get Spike upright before they straightened and gazed at her in adoration, nodding fervently. "Oh, Stunning One, it is true - we believe he is the Key!" Murk stated, Jinx pitching in on the last two words. Spike, meanwhile, looked back and forth between the demons and Glory in disgust, shaking his head and snorting in disbelief. Glory gave a cold, satisfied smile. "Really? That's fantabulous!" she exclaimed, walking toward them. But as she neared Spike, she frowned again, then turned and shoved Murk. "And impossible." She eyed Spike warily, then began to circle him like a shark. Spike kept his eye on her the entire time. "He can't be the Key, because, see, the Key? Has to be pure." She stopped in front of him, and sniffed twice like a dog at a fire hydrant. Spike grimaced, backing up and looking thoroughly uncharmed by her sudden need to see if he had that nice, fresh feeling. Straightening, she looked at him in surprise, then began laughing. "Oh, wow. You're a vampire? The Vampire Slayer is dating a Vampire? How freaking funny is that?" Spike stared at her in alarm. Bloody hell, she can tell what I am by sniffing me? And -- what exactly about Buffy and me? This whole situation was screaming, What the fuck?! Glory's laughter suddenly died, and she spin around to glare at her minions, smacking one upside the head. "Rule number one, idiots -- vampires equal impure!" Okay. Spike was beginning to see why Glory was insane. At the moment, the bitch's hot and cold taps could give Drusilla a run for her money. "Yeah, you're damn right I'm impure!" he sputtered. "I'm as impure as the driven yellow snow, now lemme go!" Glory ignored him. "You can't even brain-suck a vampire," she sighed, patting Spike on the chest. "He's completely useless." Spike frowned at that, opening his mouth to protest indignantly, when the Panic button in his mind was pressed. Idiot! Don't argue with the Hell God! He quickly changed tactics, nodding fervently. "Right! So, I'm just gonna let myself out then --" he said, attempting to dart away. Unfortunately, he was stopped in his tracks by the smug, ugly grinning little face of Murk. He grimaced and backed up again. "Or, not," he muttered. Jinx gave Glory a confused look. “But, your holiness... we observed the Slayer. She preferred the company of this one above all the others.” Glory looked over her shoulder at Spike, who was glaring at Murk and eyeing her carefully. “She treated him as precious." “Really? Precious?” Glory asked, the final consonant of the word becoming a hiss. She tilted her head, pushing Jinx aside and walking over to Spike again. Looking him up and down, she said, “Let’s take a peek at you, precious." Spike managed to muster up some of his trademark insolence, despite knowing how stupid is was of him to taunt a woman who could bench press an entire football stadium of people and not even break a sweat. “Sod off,” he growled softly, scowling at her. Glory raised her eyebrows, and laughed. “Oh...” The amusement disappeared and she grabbed the front of Spike’s shirt, bringing him in close to her face. “Watch what you say, sweet cheeks. Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to piss off a god?” With that, she hauled off and punched him in the nose. Spike went flying, catapulting backwards until he hit the wall. He moaned softly in pain as he slid down it, blood trickling out of his nose and down over his lip. Glory walked toward him and tilted his head up, forcing him to look at her. She sighed. “He doesn’t look very fancy to me,” she muttered, then grabbed Spike’s bottom lip, lifting him up. Spike yelped. “Hey! Watch the lip!" Glory continued. “But if the Slayer protects him, maybe appearances are deceiving." She threw Spike onto the circular mattress that was her bed and grinned in approval when he landed on his bound wrists, crying out in pain. She followed and climbed on top of him, straddling him, then trailed one long, perfect red nail down his chest. She looked up and caught his eye. “Maybe there’s something on the inside." With that, she thrust the finger into Spike’s stomach, laughing in pleasure when Spike screamed out in agony. Leaning over him as she twisted and wriggled her finger inside of his stomach, she brushed his chest with the other hand in a comforting gesture. “Shh... What do you know, precious?” She jabbed at him once, harder. “What can I dig out of you?" Spike writhed in anguish. At the same time, about two hundred feet outside the apartment complex, Buffy screamed in agony and dropped to the ground, grabbing at her stomach. Giles rushed over immediately, bending down to help her up. “Good God, Buffy, what is it?" Xander stared at them in confusion. All he knew, all he could see, was that something was hurting Buffy, but... there wasn’t anything around to hurt Buffy. Maybe it was cramps. “What’s wrong, Buff?" Buffy moaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s the claim. Something’s going on, Glory, somebody, is hurting Spike,” she groaned. Taking a deep breath, she managed to get to her feet with Giles’ help, then wrapped her arms around her stomach, pushing against the pain. “Oh... Christ, we have to get to him!" She began walking off toward the compound again, holding her own quite well despite the pain she was under. Xander and Giles exchanged a look, then raced after her. The group had gathered as many weapons as they could carry, and Buffy had sent Willow and Anya ahead to stake out the complexes in an effort to see which apartment could be the one that Glory was holed up in. Now, as Buffy, Giles and Xander approached them, the two girls stood outside the very building where Spike was being held captive, staring almost reverently. Then a loud scream pierced the air, and Anya jumped, then jumped again when Buffy echoed it, keeling over into Giles. Willow’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. Oh -- it’s the claim, isn’t it? What are we gonna do, Giles? How can we help her? Ohhh, this is not good, not good at all, what’s going to happen if the Slayer is under assault injuries that haven’t even happened to her, huh, Giles, what’s going to--" Buffy stood straight up, cutting off Willow’s rambling by holding her hand up. “I’m fine, Will. But right now...” she swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. “Right now, we have to get to Spike.” Sucking up every ounce of sheer will and strength she had, she forced the effects of the claim away and drew a deep breath. She looked toward the buildings, then turned her head to the side in Xander’s direction. “Xander?" The dark-haired boy instantly recognized the unspoken command and began unloading the weapons they had taken from the shop from a duffel bag that hung at his side. Earlier, when Buffy had tried to walk out on her own, he’d run out after her, talking her back in, and convincing her that a sloppy Slayer was going to get Spike killed. She’d complied and they’d sorted through every single piece of weaponry that Giles owned -- or at least stored -- at the shop, and now Xander pulled out two crossbows, handing them to Willow and Anya, along with several bolts. He offered the Slayer a machete and a dagger, and she fingered the trigger of the crossbow she still carried impatiently as Xander gave the Watcher a very long sword with a very broad blade. Xander himself took the handle of an axe with a very large, very sharp looking edge, and yet another crossbow, which he slung over his shoulders. Buffy slipped the machete onto her back, then mimicked Xander’s actions, slipping the crossbow around her shoulders. The dagger she holstered through the belt loop of her pants, and she grimaced as she rubbed the tender skin of her stomach. She glared hard at the room where Spike was apparently being tortured. “Let's go,” she growled in a tone that would very much rival Spike’s own. She stalked toward the buildings, gold-colored fury building in her eyes. The Scoobies swallowed at the threat in her voice, but nevertheless followed the Slayer. They arrived inside the building and Buffy again became into general. “All right, here we go: Anya, Willow, stick together, search the second floor, Xander, Giles, explore the lobby, I’m going up to the third floor to see if I can find Spike. Go!" She began moving up the staircase, Anya tailing after her and Willow pulling up the rear. Only they heard her quietly utter, “Bitch is gonna pay." In her head, Buffy’s subconscious echoed that sentiment. Yeah. And if you don't get to Spike in time -- then so will you. Willow watched Buffy worriedly as the Slayer continued up to the third floor of the building, until the Wicca forcibly had to turn her head away, stopping off at the second floor with Anya. The former demon was looking around nervously, and she jumped slightly when Willow cleared her throat. The ex-demon whirled to face the red-haired witch. “Could you not do that, please?” she hissed. “There’s a god somewhere in this building, torturing Spike, an incredibly strong supernatural entity in his own right, and I really don’t want to see what happens if she decides to see what the difference between a demon and an ex-demon is." Willow pursed her lips apologetically. “Sorry... But do you... I mean..." Willow shook her head, cursing herself for even thinking the thought, let alone wanting to say it out loud. She looked back up at Anya, frowning. "Do you think this is worth the trouble of... of saving Spike?" Anya turned her gaze on the red-head in disbelief. “What are you talking about? There’s no question about it, Spike has to be saved, otherwise everything goes ker-plooey. And not only that, but he’s claimed Buffy. So if he dies, she is going to be in some serious physical pain." Willow chewed her lip as they began to walk carefully down the hall. “I-I know, but... but what if Buffy doesn’t get there in time? A-And Spike tells? Having a god torture you can’t be all that fun and, and Spike wasn’t ever really reliable in the past anyway." She stopped, then voiced what was really bothering her. "What if he tells Glory about the Key?" Anya glared at her. “Spike wouldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell -- have you even seen the way he is with Dawn? And he’s crazy about Buffy, so if he told, heh, well so much for the lovin’ there." Willow sighed. “Again, I know. I’ve seen how he looks at Buffy. He’s in love with her, and she told me that she feels the same way. But still, this is Spike we’re talking about. He’s the one that held a broken bottle in my face and threatened to cut me two years ago, he’s the one that started a massacre at the high school on Parent-Teacher Night just because he was impatient... Maybe he has changed, but torture could make him unchange in an instant. I know he loves Buffy, but...” She looked up toward the third floor as another pained, very Spike-sounding scream rang out. She glanced down at her feet. “What if it’s not enough?” she finished quietly. Anya followed the Wicca’s gaze up the steps and frowned, worrying her lower lip. If that wasn’t enough, then oblivion was imminent. If love wasn't enough... then what did that mean for the rest of them? Glory was having fun. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t tortured someone since she’d been banished from her home sweet hell and latched on to that stupid bastard, Ben. And that had to have been, given Ben’s age, almost 26 years ago. Maybe less, but who was counting, really? Point was, she had her very own vampire to maim and break and cut, and sooner or later, he was going to give in. And if he didn’t, she would make him. At the moment, though, the vampire wasn’t talking, and that was just giving her more opportunities to test her torturing skills. God, it was fun trying to weasel the info out of him. Her minions were standing in a circle around them, in order to keep him from escaping, which was pointless since the little bloodsucker was chained to the ceiling, his boots barely touching the ground. The demons were watching in eager fascination -- or not so much fascination as it was apprehension. Glory knew that they realized that this could happen to any one of them if they pissed her off the slightest bit. She was proud of that fact. Glory was insane, but she wasn’t to the point of humbling herself. Spike, meanwhile, was fighting a losing battle for consciousness, though he kept trying, simply for the fear of what the crazed deity would get the urge to do to him if he did conk out. He’d already endured so much from her as it was. For starters, his nose was broken. Again. Glory had taken an interest in his face, and he was now sporting two black eyes, both so swollen that he could barely see save for squinting. Glory had gotten extremely brassed off and frustrated at one point, and there were scratch marks across his face to show that -- dark, bleeding furrows dug deep by her claw-like nails. He could barely see from the blood that was trickling down through his eyes. His chest was beaten to a pulp, black and blue bruises all over, and there was one, perfectly circular, perfectly ugly wound where Glory had pushed her finger into him. She'd somehow decided to leave his legs alone, probably figuring that he couldn't run anywhere as it was. Glory finally turned away from him, and he allowed himself to relax a bit, unable to do much else besides hang there. He’d been attached to a chain that had been looped around something in the ceiling, and all his muscles were straining downwards. Any second now he was sure they were going to rip right off of his bones. Oh, god, what would it take for her to stop? Oh -- wait. Telling the bitch about Dawn. Spike took a deep breath and braced himself for the next round of punishment. Glory turned around again and he raised his head, swallowing hard and tensing up when he saw her hands behind her back. Whatever was coming next could not be good. Christ, this woman was worse than Dru was when at her best. How could this be happening to him? Glory walked up to him, a falsely innocent smile on her face, and Spike shied away from her wearily, unable to get very far due to his suspension. Casually, the goddess brought out her hands and Spike’s eyes widened in fear: a stake in one hand, and a long, ornate silver dagger in the other. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. The stake had its up side, because she could stab him, and the pain would last but a second. On the other hand, she could push the thing in as slowly as possible, and torture him even further. Besides, he really didn’t want to die. And then there was the dagger. And he knew -- he knew -- that Glory would use the sharp blade to every single advantage, and he’d look like a demolished Rose-Phase Picasso painting when she was done. But at least he couldn’t die from it. Unless he lost all his blood. Either way, he was now scared shitless. Glory smiled at the terrified look on his face, and pretended to dither between which weapon to use, then slowly put the blade down. Walking up to him, she gently pushed away the shreds of his destroyed T-shirt and lightly trailed the tip of the very pointy, very lethal wooden stake over his chest. Spike let out a soft whimper, trying to push away from her, and Glory reached up to touched his cheek. “Shhh... I know, precious, I know,” she said in a soft, kind voice. “Do you want the pain to stop?” Spike nodded his head desperately. Glory smiled. “Then it will,” she continued, running her hand from his cheek to his pecs. “All you have to do is tell me who the Key is. Then the pain will stop for good, and I promise that I’ll let you go." She said it sincerely enough, but Spike was looking in her eyes, and he knew instantly, as well as from common sense, that he would die whether he gave up Dawn or not. He braced himself for the "not." His hesitation was quick to irritate Glory, and her impatience rose. She moved the stake up toward his heart, settling it in about two inches above the vital, un-beating organ. “Now, now, baby doll. Tell me who the Key is. Unless you actually enjoy the feeling of wood going through your skin." He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly, not saying a word. Glory scowled. The stupid vampire still wasn’t talking. Shaking her head, she pushed the stake in, pressing it into the same area that had been abused by the stake from Riley just a few weeks before. Spike threw his head back and cried out as she pushed it in one, two, three inches. The stake was now lodged above his heart, right between his shoulder and collarbone, and blood was seeping out of the wound, drenching the wood and running down his chest. The goddess let out a soft, irritated growl. Either this guy was really loyal, or he was really stupid. She just couldn't understand it -- his unlife rested in her hands, but he wouldn't talk. What the hell kind of vampire was he? For all her experience with the disgusting little half-breeds, they only cared about three things: sex, blood, and violence. This guy was not fitting the mold. Frustrated, she yanked the stake out violently, and somehow it caused him more pain than it had when the stake had pierced his skin. Blood gushed down his chest from the injury like a waterfall, but Spike kept his head down, shuddering and whimpering in pain. Glory sighed and tossed the sullied stake over her shoulder, unknowingly beaning one of her demons on the head with it. She walked back to where she had left the knife, then moved behind Spike with it. “I have a riddle for you, precious,” she began, stroking his face with her free hand. Grabbing the back of his head, she pulled him backwards until he was suspended horizontally, his legs hanging limply in the air, then rested her cheek against his, smiling. “How is a vampire that won’t talk... like an apple?" She raised her dagger-occupied arm, then pressed the blade into his skin, dragging it viciously down his chest. Spike moaned in agony, tears of frustration running over his cheeks and bloodying up his vision even more. The blade ran cleanly through his skin, cutting it up like butter, digging through the muscle, and it was all he could do not to give in to the beckoning oblivion. Glory grinned, proudly displaying the large ‘G’ that she’d carved into his torso to her minions. “Think I can do you in one long strip?” she asked, positioning the knife horizontally, preparing to slice down. That was it. He couldn’t take anymore. “Enough. No more,” he wheezed weakly. “I’ll tell you who the soddin’ Key is." Buffy winced and knelt to the floor as another scream sounded and a sharp pain ran though her chest. She’d barely been given a few moments to recover before another, sharper pain ran along her stomach. Great. Thanks for the claim, Spike she grumbled inside her head. It took all her willpower to stand up once again, one arm pressed against the pain in her stomach, the hand of her other arm pressed against a section near her shoulder. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut until the pain faded away, then sighed in relief. She wiped her hand across her face, then frowned as something sticky, with a coppery smell to it covered her skin. She looked down at her hand. Covered in blood. She looked at her other arm. Yep, that one too. Glancing down at her shirt, her eyes widened in horror. The pain in her chest had taken the form of a circle, and blood was seeping down her front like she’d been wounded. Further down, on her stomach, blood had pooled out into the form of a letter ‘G.’ Quickly, she pulled the shirt up and searched for any wounds. Nothing. And the same went for the circle on her chest. “Okay, this is getting a little too weird for my tastes,” she said out loud. No wounds, but she was bleeding. The same way the pains appeared even though nothing was around to cause them. It was Spike’s claim. It had to be; there was nothing else it could be. Which meant that Glory was starting to get stake-happy. Buffy’s eyes widened in panic at the thought, and she raced up the rest of the stairs. She passed a window in the hallway as she ran, noticing that the sky was beginning to lighten, signifying morning. They’d been out all night. If she didn’t get Spike back by the time day broke, she was never going to forgive herself. Glory sighed as the walking, talking corpse in front of her panted and gasped -- he wanted water this time. Snapping her fingers, one of her minions ran off to the kitchen, and was back within a minute, wielding a glass. This was the second thing the vampire had asked for since he'd broken down and agreed to spill the beans, and Glory’s impatience was again getting the best of her. She took the glass and lifted it to Spike’s lips, carefully tipping it as he swallowed greedily. Blood ran down his face and into the water, but Glory really couldn’t care less. He was a vampire -- he drank blood, anyway, it didn’t matter if it was slightly diluted with water; also, he was nothing but an informant to her. Why the hell should she be hospitable? When he was done, she pulled the glass away, and put on her tender, loving face. “Is that better?” she asked gently. Spike coughed softly as a reply. She smiled softly. “Do you think you can try to talk again now?” Spike nodded slowly, swallowing and exhaling the air he didn't need as he looked up at her. “Good." The women seriously needed anger management. She whirled on him. “Because I’m tired of these games!” she yelled, smashing the glass into his face. It shattered into pieces, hitting the floor. She turned away, throwing her hands in the air. “’I need time, I need a drink,’ you’re a very needy little bloodsucker,” she accused, flopping onto the sofa and crossing her legs. “And it’s not very attractive.” Spike scowled at her, mentally stirring up ways to maim and torture her -- if he could, anyway. “So start talkin’,” she continued, folding her arms. Buffy crept up to the door she’d seen open. Crashing noises had emanated from it, as well as the sound of Glory’s eternal bitching, so it was obvious that this was the place. Peering in, she caught a glimpse of a room overflowing with satin pillows, silk sheets, and cashmere drapery. And in the middle of it all was Spike. Oh my god she thought, eyeing his body. He’d been brutalized. Glory had truly gone overboard. Unless the goddess was only just getting started, in which case, Buffy had to get Spike out of that room now. How had he managed to survive this long? It was impossible! If he'd been human, Spike would’ve been in a very deep coma or worse, dead by this point. Of course, given that he was a vampire, and already dead... Something caught Buffy’s eye on the floor of the room, and her eyes widened in alarm. She had just come incredibly close to losing her lover. The stake. And by the looks of it (the small puddle of blood around it probably gave it away), it had been thoroughly used on Spike. He had a big hole in his chest, in the same position that the circle of blood had appeared on Buffy’s shirt, and it was looking really bad. Buffy's eyes narrowed as her gaze lowered to Spike's stomach. Glory seemed to have put a little claim of her own on Spike. It should’ve been obvious when that big ‘G’ had shown up on her shirt. Her head lifted and she watched silently when Spike cleared his throat and began to talk. Spike nodded. “Yeah. Okay. The Key. Here’s the thing...” he began, fiddling with the chain binding his wrists together. He was weak, but it was worth a shot at getting away anyhow. He twisted them around, trying to loosen them. “It’s that guy... on TV... what’s-his-name?" Glory frowned at him, not comprehending. “On the television?" Spike nodded again. “That show... the prize show... where they guess what stuff costs?" Murk, who had approached Glory with Jinx the moment she’d thrown herself on the couch, tilted his head. “The Price Is Right?" Jinx’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Bob Barker!" The demons twittered excitedly, and Murk stepped forward. “We will bring you Bob Barker! We will bring you the limp and beaten body of Bob Bark --" Glory jumped up angrily. The demons instantly shrank back. “It’s not Bob Barker, you scabby morons! The Key is new to this world...” She turned to glare at Spike. “... And Bob Barker is as old as grit.” She smiled coldly. “The vampire... is lying to me." Spike weakly broke into a case of hysteric giggles. “Yeah... but it was fun. An’ guess what, bitch?” He tried tugging at the chains again, desperate freedom before Glory could really do some damage for what he was about to say. “You’re never gonna get your soddin’ Key. ‘Cos you might be strong, but in our world?” He leaned forward and glared at her. “You’re an idiot." Buffy’s face could’ve cracked; she was grinning so hard that even the Mona Lisa's secret grin couldn't compare. True, Spike was doing something incredibly stupid by baiting an extremely volatile hellgod, but then again, this was Spike. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t; he was practically known for doing incredibly stupid things. Glory was getting beyond angry, she could tell, and Buffy officially had Spike to thank for that. The second they got out of there, the moron was getting a kiss. Maybe more. A kiss was all she could offer at the moment, though. It wasn’t like she could throw him down and rape him. Vampires liked pain when it came to sex, but not in the situation Spike was in. That was too much. And besides, they would be in the middle of a battle, and she couldn’t abandon her friends. Couple fun would have to wait. For now, though, Buffy just sat up and enjoyed the show. continued in part 2...

Chapter #14 - the trials of a hero, part 2/2

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part XII... .:the trials of a hero:. part two of two Glory’s eyes widened. This thing, this mere vampire actually had the nerve to insult her? “I am a god!” she yelled, jaw clenching. Spike snorted. “Yeah, the god of what, bad home perms?" Glory’s jaw dropped and her hand went up to her hair, patting it defensively. “Shut up!” she yelped, moving forward menacingly, and wondering exactly why the vampire didn’t seem to be scared of her anymore. “I command you, shut up!" Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, sorry, but I just had no idea that gods were such prancing lightweights.” You’re pushing it, you stupid sod, he thought. Glory scoffed at him in disbelief. His voice dipped down to a threatening, vicious note as he stared at her. “Mark my words, hellbitch... My girl... is going to kick your skanky, lopsided ass... “ Glory’s eyes widened and her head turned as she checked out her ass, still unwilling to believe that his fear had disappeared and that he was actually talking to her that way. “...Back to whatever place would take a... “ He looked her up and down and scoffed, glaring at her, his upper lip curling in disgust. “... A cheap... whorish... fashion victim... ex-god... like you." Each word had been said with Spike’s biting malevolence, accents being placed on each and every syllable in order to spite her. And it worked. Perhaps too well. Glory’s rage took advantage of the situation, and she spun around, delivering a devastating kick to Spike’s solar plexus. He winced as he heard something snap, realizing full well that the bitch had probably just broken three or four of his ribs. The chain binding his wrists gave way, and he flew backwards, crashing into the hallway outside the door. Doing a (completely unintentional) back-somersault, he slammed into a chair, splintering it. Inside, Glory stared stonily at the chain that had been holding Spike before she’d literally kicked him out. Her demons surrounded her, looking up questioningly. Glory stayed silent for a moment, then said, in a dangerous voice, “Bring him back." Buffy jumped when Spike flew past her into the wall, and she scrambled over to him, still toting the crossbow and machete. He groaned, muttering, “Good plan, Spike,” then looked up, startled, when Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him up. “Buffy?" She nodded quickly, looking behind her at the minions, then back at him. “Yeah, baby, it’s me. I’m gonna get you out of here, I swear I will.” Together, they ran down the hallway toward the open elevator doors (well, Buffy ran; Spike sort of ran-walked-limped) as the hordes of little hobbits-with-leprosy charged after them. However the doors closed before they could get inside, and in a fury, Buffy screamed, “No!” and slammed her foot into the door. Spike moaned softly and slid down the wall, looking up at her. Buffy spared a worried glance at him, then looked behind her. Abandoning the task at hand for the moment, she grabbed the crossbow, aimed, and pulled the trigger, shooting one of the charging demons in the chest. He let out a funny little ‘eeee’ sound and flew up, landing on his back with his feet in the air, instantly dead. His comrades ignored their fallen man and continued after the Slayer as Buffy pried open the doors, shoving them apart. She bent down to Spike and cupped his chin. “Spike, I need you to get down there, can you do that for me?” Spike gave a soft whimper that broke her heart but he nevertheless grunted and turned over on his stomach, sliding into the elevator hatch. Grabbing the machete off of her back, Buffy slashed it across the face of one of the demons nearing her, then jumped down the hatch with Spike, being careful to avoid his already heavily injured body. Opening the latch at the top of the elevator, Buffy gently lowered Spike into it as Jinx and another demon watched them from the open elevator doors. She peered up at them, then lowered herself in as well. He stood up shakily and Buffy caught him in her arms before he fell over, brushing her fingers over his face. Reaching out her other hand, she took his and squeezed gently. “Can you run?” she asked. Spike wobbled again and Buffy grabbed at him, wincing. “Whoops, guess not.” The elevator ‘ding’-ed and the doors opened, revealing the demons, led by Murk and Jinx, running down the staircase. Anya and Willow had run back down to the lobby at the sound of their descent, and now all of them stood at the ready for the attack. Murk started toward the elevator as Jinx initiated the war. “You do not insult Glory by escaping!” he called out. Buffy and Spike scowled at him and simultaneously thrust up their middle fingers. Murk seemed surprised by this reaction; apparently, he’d been expecting them to be quivering in actual fear. Buffy jerked the crossbow in front of her again and fired a bolt, purposely hitting Murk in the right-of-center of his chest. The little demon cried out as he flew back, his eyes widening at the clear sight he now had of the short, powerful blonde girl. “Slayer!” he cried out. “That would be me,” Buffy muttered under her breath, then turned toward Spike, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then again to his lips. “Stay in here, baby, you’re too weak." Spike fell back against the wall feebly, lifting one arm to try and clutch at her. “Buff --” he choked, then squeezed his eyes shut as an overwhelming stretch of pain assaulted him, finally succumbing to senselessness. Buffy swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that were trying to force themselves down her cheeks and ignoring the angry voice inside her head that said that she had caused this to happen to him. Convincing herself that he would be safe inside the elevator, she ran out toward the action. Xander saw her out of the corner of his eye and took a moment to wave. “Hey! Welcome to the chaos!” he called out. Buffy shot him a grin and saluted, then dove headfirst into the fray. Anya was standing on the final step of the staircase, shooting the bolts from her crossbow wildly at the demons that were attempting to attack her, at times taking the crossbow itself and smashing them frantically over the heads with it. Willow had discarded her own crossbow in favor of her rapidly advancing witchcraft. There was a circle of absolute calm surrounding her, several of the demons being stupid enough to bounce off of the barrier she'd erected, and as her chanting reached a crescendo, her head shot up and her already green eyes glowed almost blindingly brighter. She threw her arms up, capturing the twenty or so demons that had been surrounding the barrier. With one motion, she slammed them into the ceiling before throwing her arms toward the right and sending them flying out of the windows in a rain of broken glass. Xander spun around as a demon lunged toward him, catching the little bastard with the axe and flipping him over his shoulder. As another demon ran at him from behind, he whirled around just in time to brace the attack. Buffy looked around and snatched her crossbow up, taking out another demon, until Murk, who had removed the bolt from his chest, advanced on her and kicked it out of her grasp. She spun to look at him and received a punch to the face. Recovering quickly, she kicked Murk down to the ground, then ducked as another demon decided to attack. Kicking Murk twice more, she punched the second demon, then spun around and kicked a third. Leveling the handle of the axe like a quarter-staff, Xander smacked a demon in the face with it, then fended him off before swinging around and stabbing a second demon in the chest. The first demon recovered and attacked him again, punching him twice. The first demon made an attempt to punch him a third time, but Xander ducked and caught him on the chin with the axe handle. Smacking him a few times, he shoved the blade into his belly and jerked upwards before retrieving it and spinning around. Murk shot back up to his feet and assaulted Buffy again, aiming a fist at her face. Buffy blocked the punch, brought her leg up in a snap-kick, then ducked another punch. Pulling her arm back, she snapped her fist at him, a punch which he blocked. Knocking him upside the head with a foot, she punched him twice more, catching him fully off guard. Then, spinning, she thrust her foot out and caught him on the side of his head, sending him flying. As Xander slashed at yet another demon -- where the hell were these guys coming from? -- one more of the little bastards snuck up behind him, catching him in a headlock and pointing a very sharp knife at his throat. Xander gurgled and let out a strangled cry. Giles, who had been slashing demons left and right with his sword, heard him and rushed to his side. Lifting his sword above his head, he brought the hilt down hard on the demon’s skull. The little bugger fell backwards and Giles brought the blade of the sword down, stabbing him in the belly. Free now, Xander gave Giles a grateful grin, then dove headfirst toward a reviving demon, tackling him to the ground. Straddling said demon, Xander began punching him gleefully. Now he knew why Buffy enjoyed this so much. It was a kick-ass stress-reliever! Finally, he grabbed the dagger that he had swiped off of the other demon before he’d been set free and drove it down into the belly of the demon he was sitting on. Standing up and brushing himself off, Xander began glancing around. He spotted Jinx and Murk running back up the steps and called out, “Buffy!” before he was tackled from the side by another demon who hadn’t had the smarts to escape with the ones that had gotten away. The Slayer jerked her head up in time to see Jinx and Murk retreating, then rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Her head twisted in Anya’s direction, the former demon shrieking as one of the few demons left began grabbing at her. Buffy darted toward the girl and struck a blow to the back of the demon’s head. Grabbing either side of his face as he turned around to her, she twisted, snapping his neck cleanly. Looking around to Xander, she saw that the demon he was now combating with had his arm wrapped tightly around Xander’s throat. The boy jabbed his elbow into the demon’s stomach, then turned and began punching him in retaliation. “Xander!” Buffy called out, hefting her machete up in the air. Xander turned and, seeing what Buffy had planned, ran and hid behind Giles. The Watcher turned and scowled at him. Buffy threw the machete, watching grimly as the sharp silver metal flew through the air and embedded itself into Xander’s assailant. And suddenly, all was silent. Buffy looked around and noticed that the lobby was now littered with nothing but dead demons. Her eyes latched onto the elevator and she rushed down the steps. “Giles!” she called out. “Get that thing off of my machete, I’m not leaving it here!" Hurrying toward the elevator doors, she sank to her knees and crawled in, taking in Spike’s face. She wasn’t sure what was worse: that he was so bloody that the red cascade hid most of his serious injuries, or the fact that he had even more serious injuries underneath the blood. She drew a deep shaky breath, then pulled him into her arms, grunting softly as she lifted him. It was easier picking him up when he wasn’t unconscious, mostly because he helped her boost up, but carrying a sack of one-hundred and fifty-eight-odd pounds of dead weight vampire was putting a serious strain on her muscles. She carried him out of the elevator, staggering slightly under the weight, and walked to the middle of the lobby, viciously kicking aside one of the dead demons, as if it was redemption for what their master had done to her lover. Xander, who had otherwise been occupied (Anya had thrown her arms around him in relief a few seconds earlier and had a grip like an octopus), stopped kissing his girlfriend and froze in absolute shock at the sight of Spike’s battered body, Willow and Giles parroting him with their silence. Anya glanced at him and held her hand over her mouth, her skin tinting a bit green and hinting at nausea. “Oh, my god,” she whispered. Buffy, her body trembling and the tears she'd pushed away earlier threatening her eyes again, remained quiet for a moment, studying his face. She’d been so incredibly close to losing him, and the last thing he would have remembered of her was her voice calling out his Sire’s name. How incredibly stupid was she, exactly? She lifted her head and peered out the doors of the apartment building, eyeing daybreak wearily. She turned slightly, protectively hiding Spike from any stray rays of the rising sun. She glanced at her mentor. “It’s morning. I’m not gonna let him fry. We need to get him out of here." Giles stared at his charge quietly for a moment, examining the girl’s ravaged face. Carefully, he removed his coat and placed it over Spike, draping it over the vampire’s torso. Buffy looked up at him slowly and he smiled gently at her. “I’ll go collect my car,” he said softly. Buffy returned his smile with a weaker one of her own. As he turned to leave, she called out, “Giles!” He turned slightly, looking at her. She bit her lip. “Thank you.” Giles smiled, nodding his head, and continued walking. Buffy lowered her head, returning her gaze to Spike. She shifted him slightly and sat down cross-legged on the floor, placing him in her lap. Willow moved over and wrapped an arm comfortingly around Buffy’s shoulders, and the Slayer gave a deep sigh, then allowed her shoulders to shake from the sob that escaped her throat. Anya pulled away from Xander and moved to sit in front of Willow, murmuring something to the witch about a healing spell. The ex-demon placed a gentle hand on top of Buffy’s, and gave the Slayer a tiny, brave smile. Buffy sniffled, but managed a smile back. It wasn’t very often that Anya expressed sympathy. Buffy had a feeling that Anya somehow knew how deeply her feelings for Spike ran. Xander quietly stood back, gazing at his three women. Willow -- his best friend since diapers and the only champion he'd had throughout the years; Anya -- his other half, his girlfriend and lover... and Buffy. Jesus, what could he say about Buffy? She’d been his crush, his best friend, his consort, his muse, his savior (more times than he’d like to admit)... most of all, she was his idol. He’d stood by her for so long, and watched every single torment that the Powers had put her through; he saw her fly through each and every opposition, maybe not with ease, but with sheer grace and determination of spirit. She’d had her heart broken more times than the Powers should have allowed. She’d been put through the ringer because of her duties, and once, four years ago, she had even died because of those same duties. And she just kept going. She amazed him with every breath she took. He watched her now, staring at her face; he took in her distraught form, cradling Spike so close, being so protective of him. She looked utterly devastated. Yeah, he hated Spike, but the truth was, the blonde jerk had grown on him. He’d begun to anticipate their barb-slinging fights and pool matches, the name-calling competitions and what-not. And as much as he hated to admit it... ever since Buffy had dumped Riley, ever since Buffy had latched on to Spike... He had never seen the girl happier since before Angel had become Angelus. And it grieved him to know that it was Spike’s doing. One night, after they had rescued Dawn from the hospital, Xander had followed the Slayer on her patrol after watching her exhibit some of that brand new perky attitude -- he and the others had deduced that she must have been seeing someone but that the relationship was still too new to thrust the guy past her attack-dog friends. He had stayed at least two-hundred paces behind her, but followed closely enough to have a good view. When Spike appeared the instant she stepped on to the cemetery’s grounds, he’d expected Buffy to become cold and distant, telling Spike to stay the hell away from her, as she'd done in the past. Instead, he’d had to turn away in shock and surprise when Buffy had grinned and thrown her arms around Spike, obviously euphoric to see the bloodsucker. He hated the idea of Buffy being with another vampire. This girl had become like his sister, and the thought of any harm coming to her from another vampire, after all the chaos that Angel’s evil twin had caused, drove him crazy. She was worth so much more than that, his Buffy was. That was why he'd agreed with Angel's reason for leaving -- Buffy deserved a normal life. One that didn't include the undead as potential boyfriends. But the thing about Buffy was that she wasn't normal. She was built like a human, yeah, but everything about her spoke supernatural. Even if she still wanted that normal life anymore - which she apparently didn't - she'd never be able to keep it. Buffy had always had things in common with Spike. What stood out the most in his mind was their ability to challenge tradition in every which way, and their ability to love with all their beings. Xander hadn’t forgotten Drusilla. He wished he could, the damn psychotic bitch, but he’d been there when Spike had returned to Sunnydale after the whole Acathla mess. Granted he'd been knocked out most of the time that Spike had held him and Willow captive, but he had still caught a glimpse of how empty and hollow Spike had been because the cracker had broken up with him. And he’d seen Spike the year before that, almost always adoring, almost bending over backwards when in the company of his beloved Princess. Spike had adored Drusilla, had worshipped the earth at her feet. Buffy had likewise adored Angel, though not to the same extent. Angel had been her first everything, almost. She had loved that bastard with every part of her being, and unfortunately, it had nearly killed them all. It had taken Xander a while to admit it, but it hadn’t been her fault. All she’d done was love him -- she hadn’t known anything about the repercussions of his curse. He thought back to past times that he’d seen the Buffy and Spike together. Thanksgiving last year; the horrible Willow-spell-gone-awry that had convinced them that they were engaged; their intimate little dance at the Bronze a few weeks ago, and countless other times. Spike was enamored with the blonde Slayer, and Xander knew now, for sure, that Buffy was just as enamored with Spike. He didn’t like it, and he probably wouldn’t for the rest of his life. But Spike made Buffy happy. And if Spike was what she needed, then Xander would make damn sure that Spike was what Buffy would get. He walked over as Willow and Anya moved about a foot away -- probably to do a spell -- and slipped off his jacket. He sat down next to Buffy and gently nudged her arm. She looked up at him and he smiled slightly as he spread the jacket over Spike’s bottom half. Buffy’s eyes widened as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He shrugged. “Hey... somebody’s gotta stick around to beat me shamelessly at pool,” he explained. The tiniest of grateful smiles cracked Buffy’s face, and she openly sobbed, resting her head on his shoulder. Xander sighed softly and wrapped his arm around her slight form, resting his head on top of hers as she cried softly. About ten minutes later, a honk signified Giles’ return. Buffy had kept her word to Dawn. She had pulled an E.T. and phoned home using Xander's cell phone to alert her sister that Spike had been recovered. She’d needed to hold the phone about a foot away from her ear when Dawn had shrieked, and Buffy had heard a very distinct 'thump' and 'crash,' which she assumed meant that her sister had gotten overly excited and had bounced either Mom or Tara and knocked them down, dragging a vase or lamp along in the process. If she wasn't feeling so guilty and miserable, the thought (and the image it brought to mind) would have amused her. That was why her mother, Dawn, and Tara were all standing at the door impatiently when they arrived. Joyce clapped her hand over her mouth at the sight of Spike’s prone body under Xander and Giles’ coats. Dawn’s eyes widened and she gave a soft, terrified sounding whimper when Buffy entered carrying Spike; Giles, Willow, Anya and Xander all followed. Tara immediately went over to her girlfriend, looking at Spike sadly, her eyes filled with concern. She exchanged a glance with Willow, but the red-headed Wicca shook her head, remaining silent. A hysterical scream cut through the air when Giles and Xander removed their coats and Dawn’s eyes fell on Spike’s bloody form. “Oh my god! Spike, oh my god, what happened to him, what did she do to him?!” the teenager bawled, rushing towards Buffy and grabbing at the body of her protector. Buffy jerked away from Dawn desperately, trying to keep a firm hold on her lover. “Dawn! Dawn, stop, otherwise you’re gonna make me drop him!” she cried out. Joyce, her jaw dropped in horror, walked up behind Dawn and wrapped her arms tightly around the girl, turning her tear-streaked face away from the gruesome mess of Spike’s face. Buffy looked around uneasily, her movements jerky and unsure. She focused her gaze on her mother. “He needs to stay here... somewhere. I won’t leave him alone in his crypt." Joyce responded immediately, pushed on by the heartache she felt at the sound of her youngest daughter’s sobs and the fear and worry she saw in Buffy’s eyes. “He can stay in my room as long as he needs. I’ll stay with Dawn until then." Buffy shook her head. "No, stay in my room." She looked at Spike's prone, unconscious form again, biting her trembling lower lip. "I need to stay with him." Joyce gave a small nod and Buffy sighed, looking around anxiously before carrying him up the stairs. Giles followed behind her, quietly asking her about heavy blankets for the windows. The rest of the Scoobies and the remaining two Summers women watched as the three disappeared, and finally Willow sunk heavily onto the couch, her face in her hands. “I feel awful about Spike, and horrible for Buffy, I really do... but what if he told Glory about the Key?” she asked quietly. Xander wrapped his arm tightly around Anya, stared up the staircase quietly, then looked back at his best friend of twenty years. “He didn’t, Will. Don’t know how I know. He just didn’t." It was the shock of hearing the hint of sadness and support for Spike in Xander's voice - Xander, who hated anything undead with a vengeance - that stunned Willow to the core, and gave her relief. She nodded. Giles had helped her clean him up as best he could. Now she wasn’t sure why they'd gotten rid of all the blood, because honestly, Spike looked worse without the gore all over him. Her lover was now sporting two, blue-black shiners on both eyes. His lower lip had been busted open. His nose was broken. Deep, red furrows covered his cheeks. The brand new stake wound in his chest was bright red and throbbing, no where near healing yet; it had only now just started clotting, and the slightest movement would break it open again. Bruises covered his arms and chest. There was a big, ugly round wound in his stomach. She assumed that had been the first claim-affect wound she’d felt, outside the apartments, and she honestly didn't want to know how it had gotten there. From the looks of his middle, he had a few broken ribs. And then there was that big, hideous signature Glory had left on his torso. Buffy had insisted that they wrap him up to get rid of it faster. Her Watcher had stayed a little longer to toss some heavy winter blankets over the windows of Joyce’s room, and they’d spread a canvas sheet out on the bed to keep the blood from damaging the covers. He'd gone home now, as had most everybody else except Willow and Tara. Willow was downstairs, doing her best to explain to Dawn in very minor details what exactly had gone down. Dawn may have thought she was old enough to hear all the gory details, but the truth was, she'd be up having nightmares for about five months if she heard what exactly had been done to Spike. Buffy herself had been up here since she’d brought him home. That had been about two hours ago. Eight-thirty AM, the most ungodly time in the world to be up. She hadn’t closed her eyes once in the last fifteen hours. She was standing in the door now, a cup of tea that her mother had brought her warming her hands as she silently gazed at her boyfriend -- no, not boyfriend. She didn't reserve the right to call him that, not after what she'd done to him. She only hoped that he could forgive her for it, and they could start over. What else could she do? He was so still right now... true, he was only unconscious, but if he'd been human, she would be staring at her lover's corpse right now. Christ, if he'd been human... and how foolish was she to base everything on humanity? Glory's minions had come after Spike because he was close to her, because Buffy had admitted that he was her boyfriend, and because it was obvious how much she cared about him. If he'd been human, she wouldn't be waiting for him to wake up. She'd be mourning his body and his spirit, because he'd be dead. God, she was the biggest bitch in the world. She had allowed her fear of her past relationships get the better of her, and she'd ended up doing something she had never thought she was capable of -- she’d broken Spike’s heart. What kind of a woman did that to the man she loved? A bitchy, cold-hearted, insecure one, her subconscious responded in a reproachful tone. Buffy lowered her head and stared into the tea cup. Chamomile, with just a bit of eucalyptus and lemon, something to help soothe her, her mother said. Soothing. Pfft. Yeah, right. She was wound up tighter than a bed spring. Spike hadn’t moved once in the last -- she glanced at the alarm clock -- two hours, fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Not even to moan or shift. He was dead to the world. Dammit, there was that word again. Dead. Dead, dead, dead. That was what Spike would have been if she hadn’t gotten there in time, only in this case, it would have been permanent. That was what she would be if Spike ever woke up and reverted back to hating her. She liked it when he loved her a lot better. But she knew she deserved whatever was coming to her. An Angry Spike was fun to mess with, a Drunken Spike was amusing to watch, but a Heartbroken Spike was a force to be reckoned with. She wondered briefly just what kind of torture it had taken him to win Drusilla back from that Chaos demon. He had obviously managed to get her back, despite the fact that she'd later dumped him again, and he'd ended up visiting Hell with the Stupidest Vampire Who Could. She wondered what sort of torture she would be in for when he was feeling good enough to repay her for her cruelty. Of course, there was one tiny little upside in this. Back at Glory’s lair, when Spike had been insulting Glory and doing his best to rile her up, he’d mentioned something about ‘his girl’ kicking Glory back to her little hellhole. That had to be good, right? He was referring to her as his girl? Unless ‘his girl’ was Dru or Harmony, which she truly doubted since Dru didn’t seem to care enough about her boy anyway, and Harmony was... well, Harmony. She might be in the clear after all. She looked toward the bed again, and jumped in barely contained excitement. He was waking up. She darted to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and grabbing his hand. “Spike, honey?" The vampire’s head turned slightly to the right, and when his scratch marks met the cool pillow, he hissed in pain, grumbling under his breath. “Bitch,” he muttered, his hand shrinking out of Buffy’s grip. Buffy looked down at her empty hand. Then again, maybe she was screwed for all life, because she had driven the man who loved her away. She sighed miserably. “I deserve that. I am a bitch. I’m so sorry, Spike, I... I was just scared...” Spike grunted softly and shifted again, and Buffy nodded. “No, you’re right, that’s no excuse. I should have talked to you, told you. I shouldn’t have said all those awful things to you. I’m so, so sorry, Spike.” She bit her lip and decided to try her luck. “Can you forgive me?" He growled softly, then gave a soft ‘hmph’ and cracked his eyes open. “First off, luv, I was talking ‘bout the hellbitch. I wanna know where she went so I can fuck her up for doing this to me.” Buffy gave a tiny smile. Which disappeared in the next second. “An’ second, I’m not so sure I want to forgive you. That was absolute bullshit what you pulled back at my crypt, Slayer.” Ooh, ooh, bad, he was back to calling her ‘Slayer.’ He only did that when he was truly pissed at her. She sighed. “I know, I know, I never should’ve--" “Bloody right, you shouldn’t have!” he snapped. When he saw her visibly shrink back, his gaze softened and he sighed, his voice taking on a plaintive, pleading tone. “Why would you do that to me, Buffy? You know how I feel about my sire. It wasn’t enough that the jackass had to lose his soul and take Dru away from me, but how do you think it feels to know that his poofier, self-righteous half was the one you loved? He was your first love, Buffy, how in the bloody fuck can I compete with that? Then to hear his name come out of your mouth when...” He trailed off and turned his head away. “I wasn’t thinking about him, Spike,” Buffy said, catching his hand again. “I was thinking about you... nothing but you... I can’t think of anything else. You... I don’t know what you do to me, Spike. But I like it. Because it makes me feel... because it makes me happy. I didn’t have that with Angel. I never had that with Riley.” Spike grunted at the use of the soldier’s name. Buffy smiled and continued, reaching up and touching his cheek. “So why do I feel happy with you? I guess that’s the major extra-credit question. And I think I know the answer to it." Spike’s eyes quirked upwards to it with barely disguised interest. Buffy leaned forward and kissed the shell of his ear. “I love you,” she whispered. He froze and stared up at her, eyes widening in awe. Unfortunately, they were also tinged with disbelief, and Buffy felt it her duty to remedy that as soon as possible. She pushed him down onto his back gently, then tilted her head, pressing her lips softly to his. “I love you, Spike,” she murmured again, smiling. Spike stared up at her, looking as though he had something to say, but he remained silent for the moment. Finally, he sighed and looked away. “I still don’t know if I can forgive what you did. You can’t just do that, luv, whether you love me or not.” He sighed again. “I'm sorry, pet. Give me some time to mull it over. Alone." The smile dropped off of Buffy’s face, and she looked down, stinging tears pinpricking her eyes. “Right. I understand. I’ll just... leave you alone.” He nodded absently, and Buffy sighed, wiping at her cheeks as she walked towards the door. She was halfway out when he called her back. Frowning, she tilted her head at him. He quirked his lips to the side in an imitation of his renowned sardonic smile and shrugged. “Had enough time to think it over. An’ to be honest, sweetheart, you know I’ve never been much of a thinker. More of a ‘get up an’ do-er.’ Point I’m getting at is, I’m a sorely whipped, fluffy little puppy... an’ I’m yours. You’re forgiven." Buffy stared at him for a moment, not comprehending. Then one of the little voices in her mind kicked her ass into gear. A stunned smile grew across her lips and she exhaled in astonishment, then gave a soft, happy, ‘I-can’t-believe-it’ laugh and ran over to him, hugging him as hard as she could without stirring any of the wounds under their gauze and dressings. “Oh, god, thank you,” she whispered, kissing his neck. “I’m so glad you’re all right." Spike glared down at her. “All right? You think this is all right? Woman, go get your top checked!" Buffy grinned and scrunched her nose up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Spike." He gave a one-armed shrug. “Not your fault. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Now stop saying you’re sorry." Buffy nodded quickly. “Right, you’re right. Sorry.” He growled. She giggled. “Okay, okay, last time, I’m sorry for being sorry!" “Slayer!” he barked. “Knock it off!" Buffy nodded. “Right. Sorry." He turned an irritated gaze at her. “Buffy..." She giggled. “Okay, I’m done, I promise." He grunted. “Good. Now get over here an' gimme a kiss." Never one to disobey -- actually, always one to disobey, but not when it came to something like this -- she leaned forward and covered his mouth with her own. And oh, the world of Spike-kissage. She figured that to him, the only thing that would be better than being kissed, was being kissed by her. That, or other activities that required limber bodies and a little more athletic training. But, soft, warm, melty kisses that turned her insides to mush and if she was standing, she probably would’ve had to lean on him for full support. From his point of view, this was just the first step toward the pinnacle of All Things Buffy. She was so warm, so hot, so scalding, her nimble, impertinent little tongue dashing in and out of his mouth, flicking his lips, tracing his gums and reaching nearly to the back of his throat, which reminded him of the fact that he needed to have that little mouth on areas other than his own lips more often. The sound of a throat being cleared from behind them made Buffy jump and break the kiss. She turned around, startled, then scowled at the tall, lanky form of her sister. Dawn stood at the door, blue eyes mischievously bright, and pink little mouth quirked in an amused little curl. “So busted. Is Buffy being good to you, Spike? Anything I need to call her on?” she asked, turning her gaze to the slightly-frustrated vampire on the bed. He looked at her, affection warming his frustrated gaze. He lifted his arm, wincing slightly at the pressure it placed on his ribs, and wrapped it around Buffy’s shoulders. “Actually, big sis here isn’t such a bint after all, Pint-size. Second 'fore you came in, she was admitting to being a bitch and lowering herself to apologize to me." Dawn’s eyes widened. “You mean Buffy came off of her pedestal? And I missed it? Dammit!" Buffy glared at her sister. “Watch your mouth. And that qualifies for a hey. Hey!" Spike chuckled and motioned to Dawn. “C’mere, Nibblet." Dawn happily bounced over and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here!" she mumbled into his skin. "I don't know what I would've done if Buffy hadn't gotten you back." Spike closed his eyes and smiled slightly. "Well, I'm here. In helluva lot of pain, but here. No worries. I'll heal." Buffy tilted her head. "Are you supposed to be up here?" Dawn immediately became defensive. "Mom's in the kitchen making Spike hot chocolate and warming up some blood; she didn't say I couldn't come up here, she just said I had to be on the couch when she got back!" Buffy grinned at her sister's interpretation of Mom's orders. "Then you should get back now. Mom has a Spidey sense, too, y'know. Remember? The one that tells her when her daughters aren't listening to her?" Dawn grimaced, then nodded. "Right." She turned and headed toward the door. "Now, no channeling the Discovery Channel bunnies, okay? Unless you want Spike to strain a few different muscles," she said slyly, looking at her sister. Spike jaw dropped and he shot up reaching for her, regardless of his injuries. "Why you cheeky little--" The repercussions of his actions caught up to him and he slithered back against the bed in pain, whimpering. Dawn giggled and ran off down the hallway. Buffy smiled down at him, stroking his forehead. "No moving, Spike. You'll start to bleed even worse." The vampire grunted and glared at her. "Yes, Mum." Buffy's grin grew wider and she squirmed onto the bed next to him, her hand still attached to his, and rested her forehead against his. Spike smiled, and sighed, breathing in the sweet vanilla of her skin and the aromatic lavender of her hair. This was how it was supposed to be. This was where he belonged. With Dawn running around the house, taunting them and humiliating Buffy like a good little sis would. With the woman he loved cuddled up next to him, loving him back -- and he had no doubt that she loved him now, not after what she'd done to get him back. And hell, Joyce was downstairs in the kitchen making him some hot chocolate and blood, for God's sake! Granted, it was going to take a while for Joyce to get used to the idea that her daughter was in love with another vampire, and vice versa after all the shite that the poor woman had gone through. First Angelus, who'd been pretty much as stupid a wanker as they came. Then the army poof, with that smarmy grin that let everyone know how much better he thought he was than them. And now, him. Buffy's second vampire. Granted, Joyce liked him a hell of a lot better than she'd ever liked Angel -- enter smug grin here -- but Spike had once been hell-bent on killing the woman's daughter. His mind fondly called up his first meeting with the brave, brazen older woman -- more particularly, an especially painful axe to the head, and a vicious "Get the hell away from my daughter!" Now he saw where Buffy got it from. He had never expected this Slayer to have friends and family on her side. Maybe Joyce wouldn't be happy that a vampire was putting the life-time commitment-y thing on her eldest, but then maybe she'd just be happy that her daughter had found someone who would literally drop eternity to be with her. It would take a while, either way, but Spike could prove himself to her. After all, he wasn't Angel. Angel ran away when the going got tough. Angel gave up the most precious thing in existence, and then demanded from far away that she follow the rules he set down for her. Angel had ruined Buffy's life. Spike was slowly putting her back together. Spike wouldn't ever leave. And even if it did become a problem, Joyce would just have to get used to it. Especially since it seemed that 1630 Revello Drive was his new home. Buffy had dragged him in, and he was pretty sure he was never going to come out. But Gods, it'd be nice if they could be accepted. Spike already seemed to have made an impression on the Scoobies - and that alone was a major surprise, considering he had never thought that they'd get past Buffy's Watcher. But Joyce, Dawn and Buffy were the ones that really mattered -- the matriarch of the family, the one who fixed him hot chocolate with the squishy little marshmallows in it, who had comforted him when Drusilla had broken his heart; Dawn, the inquisitive little wench, the snoop, the one with the college-level vocabulary and the sarcastic dry-wit; she truly was a Bitty Buffy. And then, of course, his Buffy. His Slayer. His enemy. His lover. His everything. The beautiful woman with a heart of gold, the Slayer that had broken all the rules by falling in love with a vampire, the Slayer who had actually been brave enough to quit the Council, and in his eyes, the most powerful Slayer to ever walk the earth. She had eternally tainted him. Not that it wasn't a good thing. Very, very good, in fact. No other soul-less demon could claim that they'd fallen in love with the Slayer and had her love him back. He actually belonged somewhere, now. He was welcomed with open arms into the Summers' household. He was respected and treated as an equal by Joyce, Dawn adored and admired him (and he could swear the little chit held quite a fancy for him, too), and to Buffy... he had suddenly become the world. He was her happiness, her joy. And Buffy herself had given him so much already. Just by trusting his love and loyalty, and allowing him to freely enter her home for four straight years, she had given him... everything. She'd given him a family. She'd given him a home. She'd given him a reason to live. That was a lot more than he'd ever been given before. And as for the whole evil thing...? Well, he was pretty sure there were other areas in and around the house where he could truly unleash it on Buffy in his own creative way. Up against a wall, the doors, the bathroom, the washing machine... The thought brought a truly blissful grin to Spike's face. Yeah. This could do. TBC. review please! It does my heart good ;)

Chapter #15 - the door's locked and nobody's home

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...part XIII... .:the door's locked and nobody's home:. He probably wasn't the best person to ask, all things considered, but life was good. In fact, if you asked Spike, the only way life could be better was if you had Buffy Summers at your side. Which he did. Heh. Buffy had really gotten into the whole nursemaid thing for the last week or so. She bustled around Joyce's room, cleaning, straightening... bringing him his nummies (and it was damn hard to keep a straight face she brought him his blood-n-hash browns combo). She even brought him random prezzies -- surprisingly, he'd even received something from Harris and Rupert. Xander, for the sake of a really stupid joke, had given him two black leather cuffs with silver spikes sticking out of them. Giles, however, had given him a beautiful reddish-brown leather-bound journal. It had made him wonder -- he'd been needing to go and nick a new one for a while now. How the hell could the Watcher have known? He was positive that nothing vaguely bookish in appearance was visible at the crypt. Later, he just chalked it up to a very nosy little girl, her nosy older sister, and their even nosier friends. Goddamn fucking meddling humans. Buffy was in the room with him at all times, day and night. She'd been so protective and possessive that if it hadn't hurt so goddamn much to laugh, Spike would have been rolling on the floor in hysterics. His Bit had entertained him but good with the arguments she and her sister had at his expense. But the worst of it was the fact that Buffy teased him. Mercilessly. Yesterday morning, in fact, she'd come up the stairs to give him his brekky, and her robe had slipped open as she bent over, revealing everything underneath. Shockingly, "everything" in this case translated to "nothing." His mouth had been hanging open for nearly ten minutes. And then, this morning, the little bint had gone and changed right in front of him -- she'd literally stripped down all the way, bearing all. He'd been left panting, with a very painful erection that he couldn't do much about. A day after his rescue, Buffy had discovered that he'd fractured his right arm. It had only had hairline fractures when he'd been under Attack-by-Hellbitch, but when he'd dropped down into the elevator, the entire bone in the forearm had shattered into pieces. The only reason he hadn't been able to do anything about his hard-on had been because Buffy had wrapped him up in about fifty pieces of gauze, stiffening his arm to the point of no use altogether. For some reason, while he could do everything else with his left hand, whacking off required both hands. Perhaps she'd forgotten that vampires healed quickly, because his arm was feeling much, much better now... Buffy, at the moment, was wearing an outfit designed purely for the premise of torturing the male anatomy -- a tie-dyed black, red, and purple halter top with one thin string roping around her neck and her back. The material was completely sheer, and Buffy, given the lack of being able to hide anything anywhere on her upper body (at least from behind), had cheerfully neglected the need for support. Considering the fact that everything was, erm, perky as normal in the front, she didn't really need it. She wore a gauzy black blouse over it. And over her boots, a pair of dark, tight-fitting flares clung to her hips and ass, with a silver link belt circling the waist. Her neck was bare, and when she spoke or was spoken to, she proudly turned her head to show off his mark -- an action that stupefied him, but nonetheless turned him on even more. He was trying to decide when the best time to ambush her would be. Problem was, neither of them was in a position to make for any of the hot monkey lovin' at the moment. They were in Joyce's bedroom, for one thing. Spike wasn't going to insult the lady; having sex with Buffy in Joyce's bed would probably give the poor woman a coronary. And besides that, Joyce's bedroom had become Scooby Central, and all of Buffy's mates were milling around, annoying the hell out of him. Okay, so they weren't really that annoying. Not all of them, anyway. Willow and Tara just kept asking if he was comfortable or if he needed anything, as did the rest of the women (and the pint-sized Niblet), so that was a bit of all right. But Giles kept shooting him a quirky British eyebrow that Spike was about ready to set fire to, and Xander kept making fun of his hair. Bah. Like the whelp had any room to talk. He was seriously beginning to wonder if Buffy would really care should he take it upon himself to eat Xander. It wasn't like anyone would miss him too much, except for maybe... well, all of them, he supposed. Except probably Giles. And anyway, it wasn't Spike's fault that his slicked back locks had turned into poodle curls during his forced immobility. It was Buffy's. She'd refused to allow him to style it using anything but water. And worser still, his roots were starting to show. He was beginning to have the horrifying suspicions that Buffy liked his hair the way it was. Also, he'd have to give the Scoobs quite a bit of credit. Buffy had been curled up in his arms on the bed for almost an hour now, and not one of them had said anything to the contrary about it. If they had, he was finally assured that Buffy would have set them straight. The Slayer's friends had been there for almost two hours now, and Spike's brain felt like it was going to explode. Ker-plow -- gray matter everywhere. Used to be fun watching that happen to his victims when he shoved a spike through their brains, but somehow, Spike just didn't fancy that happening to him. Giles had been droning on and on about Glory for going on ten minutes - basically repeating the same information over and over - and Xander kept giving his ill-timed quips, and really, if Buffy had not been curled up soundly with her arms wrapped around his waist, he might have grabbed the whelp and ripped his tongue out by now, just to shut him up. "Spike. Spike," Buffy whispered, poking him lightly. The vampire looked up from his thoughts, his eyes darting around in confusion. Nobody was paying any attention to him, and so he looked back down at Buffy and frowned. "What?" Buffy smiled and shrugged. "Just wanted to see how long it would take to snap you out of the funk. Are you as bored with this as I am?" Spike grunted. "I've died from the boredom twice over, now, sweetheart." Buffy's amused grin managed to get a responsive smile on his face and he tugged her closer, touching his tongue slyly to the back of his teeth. Without realizing it, a soft rumble emanated from his chest, and Buffy shivered, her eyes clouding with desire. And just as quickly as that desire had come, it disappeared when Giles loudly cleared his throat, making her start as if she'd been smacked. Spike turned his head away from her and narrowed his eyes at the Watcher. "Yes, Rupert?" he asked in a pleasant tone, though the look on his face was borne of many wanting-to-rip-out-your-innards feelings at the same time. The Watcher gave Spike a stern scowl, and Spike grunted, his lower lip lightly jutting out as he reluctantly backed down. Bloody Watcher was always going to get on his case no matter what, wasn't he? Giles cleared his throat again, this time preparing to actually talk. "Do you two have any questions, or shall I just declare you both chronically ignorant from here on in?" Buffy, recovered slightly from the scare Giles had given all of her Lusty-Spike Thoughts, grimaced at him and stuck her tongue out. "I'm not ignorant. I just don't use my knowledge when necessary except in battle." Spike snorted at the same time that Xander squawked with laughter, and, eyes widening in annoyance, Buffy delivered a swift but painful elbow to Spike's left arm, then kicked Xander equally as hard (but with a fraction of her strength - she was still the Slayer, and Xander was still Wimpy Human Boy) in the thigh from his seat at the foot of the bed. She turned her attention back to Giles. "And as a matter of fact, I do have a question chock full of claim-y goodness, so go find your tweeds and listen." Giles sighed, refusing to dignify her order with a response (and ignoring the soft giggles from the other females in the room); instead, he ceased his pacing and waited patiently for her to begin. Buffy looked around and sighed, then sat up slightly. "At the apartments. When I was heading upstairs to find Spike. Something... happened. The claim's hold on me got -- worse or something, because when Glory hurt Spike, I felt it even more than usual. It wasn't just the gnawing ache or anything, this was actual pain, like I was the one Glory was actually hurting. But here's the weird thing, okay? When I looked down, I was bleeding --" Giles frowned. "That doesn't seem too unnatural, Buffy, after all, we were in the middle of what could be classified as a war zone." Buffy raised her eyebrows at him, sighing in frustration. "Can I finish, please?" At Giles' sheepish nod, she continued. "I wasn't hurt, Giles. I had no wounds, nothing, until I got down to the lobby and that little bastard tried to stick a crossbow bolt in me. I was definitely feeling the pain, Spike's pain, and this was before we even made it to the apartments. You remember, I almost collapsed on the sidewalk." She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled a deep breath. "But this time, inside of the apartments, when I looked down -- I had blood pouring off of me -- in the exact same locations on my body where Spike had been injured on his." She stopped for a moment to indicate Spike's bare chest (at the moment, he was shirtless as the button-ups he'd taken to wearing were irritating his still-healing wounds), which revealed each mark that Glory had gleefully branded him with, then continued. "The problem here is that where he got the absolute shit beaten out of him," she pulled aside her shirt to reveal her collarbone and abdomen, "I don't have a single mark on me. I started bleeding, but I wasn't injured. And what was even more wiggy was that it was most definitely my blood on my clothes. I've seen it enough times by now to know." Giles's eyes widened slightly, then his brow furrowed and he frowned, revealing his Giles-Think face. "Goodness... how utterly peculiar!" He stood and began to systematically pace in the confined area of Joyce's bedroom. "I'll most certainly have to look into this, Buffy... It may be dangerous for both you and Spike if something of this nature continues. I don't even want to think about what could happen to you both should someone - God forbid - succeed and strike a death blow." Buffy's eyes widened, and she groaned under her breath. Crap. That meant that they were going to be stuck researching for the next couple of days, just trying to figure this thing out. Pouting, she plopped her head on Spike's shoulder and sank into the burrow of his arms, glaring at the rest of the gang as they glared right back at her -- well, except for Willow. The thought of research never failed to perk the resident homework guru right up. She looked up at her boyfriend when she felt his sides begin to shake, then glowered when she realized he was laughing. Thwapping him hard on the stomach, she grinned with satisfaction when he yelped, then took the opportunity to check out his healing progress as he bitched and moaned. All in all, he was looking all right. The worst of his bruises had dimmed to a very revolting, yet very imaginative pukish-yellow color (namely, his black eyes, though they were quickly fading). The wound on his stomach from Glory's finger, which had settled there for days like a second, diseased belly-button, had fully (finally) closed up. All that remained was a slightly faint, meager whitish-pink circle. The stake wound, which rested on his shoulder, covering the one that Riley had so thoughtfully bestowed on him, was still pretty caustic-looking. But it had healed over well, and, though still deep, it had clotted over nicely. It did look pretty odd, though, the pink, recovering flesh surrounded by the mass of Anne Rice ivory perfection. Oddly enough, she felt the urge to compare scars, though she felt a glimmer of knowledge that she would definitely lose to him. There was just something about seeing him this way - covered in battle wounds, for her, because of her, because of his devotion to her and her family - that, quite frankly, turned her on. In fact, if they hadn't been in the middle of a meeting, and if she didn't have her self-control (or what was left of it since she had started seeing Spike), she would've jumped him right then and there. It was utterly morbid, but hell - he had really sexy wounds. Yeah, she thought she was hanging around Spike too much, too. His other cuts were better. His fractured arm was not-so-fractured (she just kept it tied up so he couldn't use it on her -- just after she'd brought him back home, she'd discovered that a horny vampire with a wounded arm could come up with very clever ways to use it. Unfortunately, that didn't assist any in the healing process). His ribs were pummel-worthy once again, and his nose was no longer broken. She grinned to herself as she recalled herself sitting on his chest, with Scoobies on either side to hold him down as she popped his nose back into place, Spike howling like a wolf and thrashing around the whole time. "Maybe something's wrong with the claim," Anya piped up out of nowhere. Buffy snapped out of it then, realizing that Spike was staring right back at her, and that they'd apparently been having a no-blinking contest while she'd been thinking. She glanced at Spike, then at Anya, then back to Spike again, before staring dumbfounded at Giles. "Wha?" she asked. Spike grinned. "Very articulate, luv." She shoved him. "Shut up. Anya, what about the claim?" Anya shrugged. "Well, have you accepted his claim on you? You have to speak it before him, most preferably while you are both having intercourse, and even more preferable when you both orgasm." It was a testament to how everyone had gotten used to the way Anya talked that not a single one in the room (save for Xander, who frantically covered Dawn's ears) blushed. Sharing a grin with the other women in the room when Dawn viciously kicked Xander in the shin, Anya continued. "If you haven't accepted his claim, then that's probably the reason why you're suffering his injuries." Buffy frowned. "I didn't think of that." The ex-demon snorted. "Well, obviously. When was the last time he claimed you?" She tilted her head. "Claimed me as in said the words out loud?" Anya nodded. Buffy furrowed her brow, thinking. Her eyes widened, and somehow she kept herself from jolting with surprise when she realized that Spike hadn't whispered the claim the morning that they'd made love. That should have been the pinnacle for him. She glanced at her boyfriend, aware that he should be able to zone in on her thoughts. He refused to lock gazes with her, just as she'd expected. "Um, the last time was that, uh, night that you all busted into the crypt. Remember? Riley saw Spike claim me?" Xander's upper lip curled at the mention of Buffy's former beau. "I remember." He looked toward Dawn and grinned. "I also remember that our little Dawnie was the bravest one to go up against the G-man that night." Dawn accepted his attempt to apologize for earlier and beamed proudly as Giles shook his head. "Xander, I have told you repeatedly not to call me that!" he grumbled. "Sorry!" Xander replied with a huge grin, not looking the least bit sorry. Buffy rolled her eyes. Xander seemed to be regressing -- instead of maturing with every year, he was immaturing - if that was even a freaking word. It was going to get annoying. "Okay, off-topic here, guys." She turned back to Anya. "What does it mean? I mean, how long are you supposed to let a claim go without replying to it?" Anya shrugged. "Normally, when a vampire claims someone, it's usually another vampire. So if they don't reply, then the claim is pointless, lost on them. But you're the Slayer, so it looks like it's having physical effects on you. Bleeding your own blood, but you have no wounds to show for it, feeling when Spike is hurt or in danger... It's not supposed to become a physical manifestation. And the claim at the crypt was around two or three weeks ago, maybe longer. Since you felt Spike's injuries first, then bled when he did second, my guess is that it's just going to get worse from there until you finally accept the claim. Otherwise, you'll be in trouble." Buffy frowned. "What kind of trouble?" Anya tilted her head, shrugging. "Oh. Possibly the life-threatening kind. I don't know, I've never seen a Slayer claimed by a Vampire, remember?" Buffy's eyes widened, and she turned, staring at Spike. "You were letting me die and you didn't tell me?!" She frantically began to smack him wherever she could reach: his ribs, his arms, shoulders, legs -- anywhere that he couldn't keep arched away from her. Spike shrank from her hits, trying his best to fend her off with his hands. "Oi! 'S not like I knew what was gonna happen, luv, I've never claimed anyone before, much less a Slayer!" Everyone stopped and Spike inwardly winced at his admission. Fuck; him and his goddamn big mouth. Buffy stared at him in disbelief. "Wait... you've never claimed anyone?" Spike closed his eyes and sighed, nodding. Buffy's jaw dropped slightly. "But... what about Dru? You were with her for over a century, didn't you ever try to claim her?" There was a very long pause as Spike held Buffy's eyes, before turning his head away miserably. "I tried... she didn't accept." Rather, she had refused to accept. Throughout the century that she and Spike had been on their own, she'd become obsessed with searching for Angelus, even though he'd had his soul when he'd left and had made it more than clear to them that they were not to come after him. Angelus had been a cruel bastard, he and Darla raising torture to a divine art with their victims, but he had never been so cruel when it came to his Childer. The words he had spoken could have surpassed Angelus' cruelty as he attempted to keep Spike and Drusilla from seeking him out. The words had delivered an instant impact on Spike, and though he at times had missed his Sire terribly, his hurt and disgust with the elder forced him to hold on to his grudge. To Drusilla, however, Angelus, or Angel, or whoever the hell he was these days, was still and always would be her 'daddy.' He was the creature that had created her, and he would forever be Drusilla's obsession. Angelus had instilled in her the necessity to adore torture and hate. The words his souled counterpart had spoken had probably sounded like a love poem in Drusilla's fragile mind. Therefore, when Angelus had left them, and hadn't reappeared within a decade, his mark on Dru had become officially null and void. To everyone but Dru, it did. Spike had finally attempted to claim her one night in 1914, just a few weeks before the First World War had broken out, and Drusilla had not only mentally but physically rejected him in their bed. The nights following, they had resumed their normal schedule -- feeding, fighting, and fucking -- as if Spike's attempt at a claim had never happened. As he came back to himself, he was at least grateful for the fact that the group had the sense not to say anything to him -- even Xander had managed to keep his fat mouth shut, though Spike felt he owed it more to Anya's not-so-discreet kicks to her boyfriend's shins -- but they were all staring at him now. And even more of a kick in the ass, he could see the sympathy in their gazes. Fuck, but this was too much. He tugged his arms away from Buffy and scrambled to stand up, then walked impassively out of the room, refusing to look back. When he left, Buffy quietly sat up, moving forward until she was seated at Anya's right. "Anya... what does it mean to be claimed again?" Anya was silent for a moment. When she looked at the Slayer, her brow was creased, and she had a frown on her face. "A claim is... a form of protection from other vampires in some cases. Um... when it happens between vampires... it's supposed to mean that they'll be mates for eternity. Spike isn't exactly the rarest vampire on earth, or recorded in history. He holds his own, and certainly he's one of the most renowned, but he wasn't -- still isn't, in fact -- the first or only vampire capable of love. When a claim takes place between vampires, it's showing the world that they are in love, and that they belong to each other forever. Usually, the other vampire -- the one who is receiving the claim -- completes the circuit. Then, they've claimed each other, and no one else can touch them, or their mate." Giles took a deep breath, picking up the explanation from Anya. "But if a vampire does not accept the claim, then, as Anya said before, the claim is lost. To a vampire it means that they've lost a life-partner. That the other vampire either wasn't capable of caring for the same person for eternity, or wasn't capable of caring for that vampire at all." Dawn looked stricken. "Oh god. Spike loved Drusilla enough to be willing to spend eternity with her, but she didn't accept his claim." "And that means she didn't want to spend eternity with him," Willow continued, frowning. "Poor Spike," Tara murmured. "That means... that means that..." "It means that Drusilla didn't love him," Buffy mumbled, putting her face in her hands. A horrible, sinking feeling swathed her heart. "God..." She had a flash back. Back in the crypt, when she'd realized that Spike had still wanted to kill, she had told him that she knew about his claim, and that she wouldn't accept it since she wasn't, and would never be, his. What if he had taken her seriously? It would have explained why he had only bitten her wrist that night at the Bronze, and why he hadn't claimed her when they'd made love. Oh, god, was this Super Bitch month or something? What the hell kind of a woman was she? And she wasn't even PMSing. Poor Spike probably thought he was doomed to being alone for the rest of his existence. Xander frowned. Even he looked sympathetic. "Well, she had to have cared about him a little bit, right? I mean, she was with him for a hundred years." Buffy sighed, shaking her head. "No. Correction: he was taking care of her for a hundred years. Dru was weak and insane - well, more insane - before they came to Sunnydale, remember?" Willow glanced at Xander as she began speaking. "She cared about him, yeah, he was her Childe. She just didn't love him, or at least not like he loved her. If she did, Angel turning into Angelus wouldn't even have mattered to her. She cheated on Spike right in front of his face when Angel changed." "In other words, she cared about him, but he was more or less a plaything to her. Just a toy she could pull out and bat around like a cat when she got restless," Tara added. "I didn't know Spike way back then, like you did, but the vibes coming off of him are... unbelievable. I get the feeling that he was completely devoted to Drusilla." Buffy nodded. "He was. You guys all saw him when he was with her. He loved her more than anything. Xander, you and Will saw him when he first came back, after Drusilla left him. You guys saw how broken he was." Buffy looked down. "And it never even mattered to her." Silence ruled the room once again, until Buffy stood up and looked around. The revelation she'd just had was enough to force her to make one more final decision. "Meeting's over, guys." Giles jerked, suddenly zeroing in on what his charge might have been thinking, and he rose, looking hard at her. "Buffy, just a moment--" Buffy stared at him hard. "Giles. The meeting is over." The implications behind her words were clear: If you know me, respect me, and trust me the way you say you do, then do NOT stand in my way. I know what I'm doing. It was in her eyes, and it was understandable to everyone in the room. Giles cringed, but he slowly, finally nodded, understanding that if he stopped her, there would be hell to pay. "Very well, Buffy. Please... do be careful," he murmured as he turned to leave. Buffy folded her arms and nodded. When the room was finally empty, save for Dawn and the witches, the teenager looked at her sister. "Do you want me to get gone, too? I can stay with Tara and Willow. Would that be okay?" Buffy paused, then nodded. "Yeah, you can go with them. Uh, Willow, set up a protection spell, just in case some of Glory's goons try to make a move." Willow nodded. "Sure thing, Buffy." She turned to the fourteen-year-old girl next to her. "Come on, Dawnie. I think we have some Rocky Road in the freezer," she said, grinning. Buffy watched them leave, following them to the front door. As they headed out of sight, she turned and looked up the stairs. Spike was finally going to get what he deserved. And if she was completely honest, so was she. He felt like such a ponce. He felt like a drama queen, too, but that was beside the point. The point being that he'd let his emotions get the best of him, again, and he was now positive that every single person inside Joyce's bedroom finally knew the truth. He'd known all along, really. He had been Drusilla's little darling when he'd first been turned, but as the years progressed, he just hadn't been able to keep his hold on her. The way she had treated him had not been, My Spike, my lover, my everything, it had been, My Spike, my toy, my pet. It had always been Angelus first. Dru had always run to her sire. And by a chance of fate, when Buffy had slept with the bastard, the crazier version returned and stole his Dru right out from under him. ... Literally, at one point. Dru had never really loved him. Not like Spike had loved her. It had all been an elaborate act -- Spike had been nothing more than a replacement for Angelus. A toy to keep her fancy, to keep her satisfied, until the asshole returned. He'd realized that this was just going to keep happening, that Dru would no longer keep her hands and body only for Spike. And it had started after his attempt to claim her. She'd rejected him that night, and not twenty four hours later, he had found her screwing around with a bloody Bavrok demon, of all fucking things. She'd rejected him for Angel and Angelus -- the fucker was the same goddamn person! -- and then she'd rejected him for a Chaos demon, and then a fucking Fungus demon! Spike had thought that all he had to do was show the insane beauty just how dangerous and violent he could be. Because that was all that had really mattered to Dru anyway. How violent and vengeful and determined her current sex toy was. But, if he had done that, he wouldn't have ended up in Sunnydale again. He never would have fallen under that spell that Red had screwed up. He wouldn't be with Buffy now if it had not have been for his mad, traitorous Sire ruining everything by boning Fuck-face right in front of him. And Spike truly loved Buffy. The Slayer's voice, however, still echoed in his mind from that day at his crypt, telling him that she would never belong to him, she would never fully be his. It had stuck with him -- what if she was being honest? What if she would never allow herself to be his? He'd been tentative about claiming her during sex as it was. From what she'd said, it appeared she didn't want to be claimed at all. He wanted Buffy to be his, more than anything he'd ever wanted. He wanted her to realize that she was his mate, his lover, his everything. He wanted her to know that his world revolved around her, and that all he wanted was to be with her, and to love her like she deserved. He wanted to be her everything. He wanted someone he could trust, someone to be his willing companion. He'd thought Dru would be willing. He really had. He smelled Buffy's scent and heard her footsteps before she even entered the room. Of course it was a bit stupid of him to be where he was in the first place if he'd wanted to remain in hiding -- he was in her room, after all. But now he could hear her footsteps outside the door, and without hesitation, she had crept through, walking toward him steadily and slowly, but with certain purpose. He wasn't sure if he should be amazed or annoyed -- she had known exactly where he was. Buffy moved toward him until she was seated on the bed, far enough away so he wouldn't attack her if he was pissed off, but close enough to hold his hand. One never really could tell how Spike was going to act -- lately he was PMSing worse than she did on her bad days. Spike sat silently, allowing her to loosely clutch his hand. She hadn't said anything, and if she hadn't been keeping him in place with steely eyes and her hand, he would've started pacing. And pacing was something he was all too familiar with these days. "Are you okay?" she finally asked, tilting her head. Spike responded with a grunt. Buffy rolled her eyes. "I guess that's a no." She sighed and lifted a hand toward his face, cupping his chin and turning his head until his eyes met hers. Her eyes softened and her hand moved up to cradle his cheek. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly. "I didn't mean to bring up painful memories." She scooted up towards him on the bed, then stretched herself out against him, resting her head in the crook of his neck and gently stroking his jaw. "I don't know exactly what went on between you and Dru after you left Sunnydale, but I know... maybe... maybe she thought you couldn't handle her, and the lifestyle she wanted. But maybe the truth of it is that she couldn't handle you. Maybe you were the one that was growing, and she didn't want to deal with that. And if so..." She sat up slightly and gazed into his eyes, leaning in slowly and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "It's her loss." Spike stared down at her, contemplating it. And in his mind, he suddenly heard his voice, and Drusilla's, arguing in the park in Brazil. "I haven't said a word about the bloody Slayer since we left California -- she's on the other side of the planet, Dru!" "But you're lying! I can still see her, floating all around you! Laughing... Why? Why can't you push her away?" "But I did, pet, I did it for you. And you keep punishing me..." "I have to find my pleasures, Spike. You taste like ashes." "So this is my fault now?" "You can't blame a girl, Spike. You're all covered with her. I look at you... all I see is the Slayer." Maybe Dru hadn't loved him, but the reason for their first break-up had been clear. No matter what she had done in the past to him, Spike was hers. He had always waited for her. But things had changed. She'd been cheating on him, but only because she'd been jealous. He had clearly been haunted by the Slayer since he'd met her, and Drusilla hadn't known what to do. Obviously, it didn't matter when she cheated on Spike, because she knew he would still be waiting for her at the end, no matter what. But when the shoe was on the other foot, so to speak, Drusilla had no idea what to do with herself. Simply put, if Spike was beginning to show signs of moving on, of no longer bestowing his love and devotion on Drusilla, but on someone else entirely, someone who for all intents and purposes was meant to kill him, then it meant that Drusilla had been the one to do wrong. Drusilla wasn't able to hold on to the one she'd refused as mate. So this entire time, while he'd thought it had been him that had shattered the links of his relationship to Drusilla, the fact of the matter was that it was Dru's ego that had ruined it. The bloody sanctimonious spoiled little bint. It certainly put a fresh new spin on things. Spike smiled slightly and leaned down to return Buffy's kiss. "I think you're right about that, love." Buffy smiled and crawled up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed his jaw and cheek. "I usually am. Dru really screwed up by letting you get away. And now you're mine, and you are not going anywhere." Spike chuckled softly, rolling on top of her. "What if I want to leave?" Buffy raised her hand and traced his lips with it. Spike felt the other hand delve lower and lower, then let out a yelp as she squeezed the lump in his pants particularly hard. Buffy smiled. "Then I guess you want to live out the rest of your unlife as a eunuch. Is that right, Spike? Because, you know, I can totally make that happen." Little bitch. Spike gave a low, defeated growl, scowling at her when she let go. "No, Mistress Buffy, it would be a foolish an' brainless thing if I did," he muttered sarcastically, complete with rolling-of-the-eyes and a tight, annoyed smile. Buffy giggled, and drew his face to hers, kissing him softly, sweetly. "I love you, Spike," she murmured, tilting her head as she led her lips to his neck. He allowed a soft smile to grace his face. Those three words pouring from her lips freely sounded like the bells of Heaven tolling for him. Those words were gold. Spike gave a low, rumbling purr and placed a kiss on her neck. "I love you, too, baby." Buffy's head raised toward his and she gave him a brilliant smile. Wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling his head down, she pressed her lips to his, nimble little tongue daintily licking the hidden crevices of his mouth before touching his own tongue and mmm, Buffy her taste flooded his system. Spike likewise wrapped his arms around her, capturing that sweet little tongue and sucking on it lightly. Buffy whimpered, and the hand that was holding the back of his head clamped down on his hair so tight that she nearly tore it free of the roots. Spike gave an ecstatic laugh and draped his arm around her waist, hauling her up against him. His hand ran down to the small of her back, then back up again before clutching the sheer black shirt she had worn over the halter. Snarling softly, he jerked it down her shoulders, having to forcibly push her hands away in order to yank it off. Buffy's hands refused to remain idle, and in response to Spike's desperation, she began tugging relentlessly at the clasp of his jeans. Her other hand ran up the smooth, bare skin of his chest, obviously happy that the expanse of finely toned ivory wasn't hindered by something so annoying as a T-shirt. Her fingers brushed over his nipple and Spike gave a hiss before making yummy growly noises in her ear and shifting himself against her. He slid both hands down to her ass and cupped it before lifting himself up and hiking her up along with him, his lips worshipping the smooth golden skin of her neck. He pulled back for one critical moment to ask, "Is the door locked?" Buffy looked up, replying breathlessly, "Nobody's home." Spike grunted, then stalked over to the door, Buffy still in his arms. "Rather prefer us not giving a peep show should anyone come home early," he grumped, flicking the lock shut. He looked up at Buffy then, a sly grin crossing his handsome, angular face. "'Sides, doors have their uses." To prove his point, he yanked her against him and pinned her against said door. Buffy let out a gasp and a slight wince, then wrapped her arms around his neck as he allowed her to slide down. Raising his left leg, he pinned it between hers, then gazed at her for a moment, before pressing his lips to hers. Buffy moaned as Spike's tongue snaked its way in to her mouth, and she arched her lower back up, lifting both of her legs and wrapping them around his waist. Spike growled and tugged at the flimsy little strings holding her top up. How the hell did these things manage to hold her up? Sure, they made everything... perkier with it than without it, but the only things holding it were strings thinner than a strand of hair. He reached around her back. Whoops, there went those straps. The thing was more or less hanging on her like a bib now. Whether Buffy noticed or even cared didn't really matter -- she was much more engrossed in sucking his earlobe and nipping his neck and holy shit, so that where that little hand had gotten to! Buffy moaned as she felt Spike's hand move under the loosened halter, his fingers rubbing and eventually squeezing the soft globe of flesh underneath. Her own hands worked harder to undo his jeans. Slip here, button there, he just had to have worn his damn button-flies today, the idiot. Oh well, one more button, and there was not-so-little Spike, standing straight up between their bodies, making the vampire's entire being straighten up and salute its oh-so-favorite Slayer. Spike's hands moved up her bare back, tugging once, twice, and there went the halter, right over Spike's shoulder. She wasn't going to find that thing for another three months after this -- oh, god, Spike lips, nice and cool, right on her collarbone, leading down, down and teasing the very peak of ice cream scoop breasts, hands fondling, lips sucking, tongue caressing an erect pink nipple. Buffy threw her head back and moaned loudly, then decided to return the favor, ignoring her lover's very eager friend for the moment while she sank her blunt teeth into his right nipple. Spike yowled in surprise and shoved her harder against the wall, his head lifting up until his eyes met hers. Foreplay was no longer in the itinerary after this. Naughty, naughty Slayer, playing Bite The Big Bad with the oh-so-BIG Bad. Buffy toed her boots off as best she could, each flopping to its own place on either side of Spike. Spike tore her pants off, knowing he'd probably catch hell for it later but not really caring as the silver links of her belt flew through the air and smacked against the heavily shaded window. All she was left in now was a tiny black lace thong, and he was left with the belief that she really did pick these clothes out to torture him. He could see her dark brown curls peeking out from the edges and god the little bint knew how to make a man's cock explode. And he was still in his bloody jeans? Okay, right, not a necessity. Pressing himself up against Buffy in order to keep her from falling to the floor, he squirmed his narrow hips out of the jeans then kicked his legs until the bloody evil things had found their way down into a puddle on the floor. Kicking them as far away as possible, he turned his attention back to his beloved, her strong smooth thighs still locked in a vice grip around him. He growled softly, and Buffy's head immediately rose up, her flashing green eyes looking right back into the depths of his blue-gold irises. Wait a minute -- her flashing eyes -- eyes that were glowing. That shouldn't be happening. But by the Powers, it was. Buffy's eyes were glowing like a vampire's, and she was whimpering, oh, her sweet little mewls and whines, begging for him to spread her. He was plenty hard, he knew, and if he hadn't been in the room with the girl, he probably could have smelled her arousal from the very outskirts of Sunnydale, but he just had to get her ready, first. Figuring out what Buffy's glowing eyes meant could wait until he wasn't otherwise occupied with fucking her raw. He growled again and Buffy obediently moved her head forward, pressing her lips savagely to his. Spike snarled and kissed her back with just as much inhuman brutality that he possessed within him. His left hand pressed against the wall to steady him, and he slid his right hand down between them, running a cool finger between Buffy's legs as he teased open her swollen lips. Another pleading whimper that seeped into his own mouth, one that he savored, and gently he parted her lips before pushing first one finger, then two into her sopping channel. Buffy mewled and arched against him, her lips never once moving from his own. As slowly as possible, he began moving his now-drenched fingers in and out of her, each exit resulting in a thoroughly disappointed whine, each entry resulting in an elated, desperate moan for more. When he began to feel the fluttering of her muscles on the inside quickening, he sped up his pace, and was rewarded with Buffy's high, piercing keen. It nearly shattered his super-sensitive hearing, the noise almost so high-pitched that only a dog or a vampire could hear it. Withdrawing his soaked hand, he licked it clean, then bent in to lick and suck her lower lip as he hoisted her up again, pressing the swollen head of his cock against her tight entrance. Buffy, All Hail the Queen of Impatience, thrust her hips up, engulfing the tip in her moist, tight inferno. Spike hissed loudly, burying his face in her neck and groaning. Once again, barely within her, not even moving, and she was stripping his skin off. He let out a low, resonating growl as he slid the rest of the way into her. Buffy gave a soft, gasping cry as he stretched her, filled her, completed her, teased every nerve ending she knew of, and naturally, the ones she didn't even realize she had. She was positive that this was going to be what killed her. Although, from what she could already tell, her la petite morte was certain to be a happy one. There was no need for caution; Buffy had allowed Spike in to her body that first night, and Spike no longer needed his invitation. Their need and desire for each other could be seen by every one and their vampire's Sire, and as Vampire and Slayer, mortal enemies and destined lovers, locked eyes with each other, Spike began to rock against her, his hips thrusting and pumping and pistoning deep inside. Buffy slowly began to rock her hips in time to Spike's thrusts, gazing into his eyes the whole time, almost as if she were under thrall. God, was this what it was like to touch Heaven? Her mind was forming hazy thoughts, and everything was a blur around her, save for Spike -- her Spike -- and eyes that were such a magnificent, tumultuous shade of blue that she was sure the sky envied them. She found her sanctuary in this face -- ironic enough that her sanctuary was the face of a vampire. But it was there: in the jut of his chin, the angles of his jaw, the razor sharpness of his cheekbones... the soft poutiness of his delectably smooth pink lips, the arch of his nose, the gaze of those soul-searching eyes, and the curved scar on his left eyebrow. Everywhere, everything she saw -- on his beautiful ivory skin, his expressively emotional face... he was her refuge. A loud, commanding growl escaped Spike's throat, and Buffy instantly pushed off the wall, wrapping her arms around his neck, continuing to lift herself on and off of his rock hard arousal as he staggered toward the bed. He refused to extract himself from the confines of her body; instead, he allowed his legs to smack against the bed, then fell forward, covering the Slayer with his hard, marble-carved body. A deep rumbling ran from his chest into Buffy's skin, and she trembled against him, grasping his shoulders. "Spike, faster," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. Spike grunted, closing his eyes as he shifted his hips, pounding into her at a faster pace. The sweat that was beginning to pour off her forehead ran onto his skin, and he nudged her nose with his, asking for a kiss. Buffy acquiesced, tilting her head up to capture his lips in a firm lock. Her hips thrust up beneath them, her mound meeting Spike's pelvis with each pressing plunge into her. Spike ducked his head down to capture her carotid artery between his lips, sucking slowly as his hands moved up to caress her heaving breast. A light squeeze, and Buffy was whimpering all over again, arching into his cool palm, the hard point of her nipple stabbing his palm. Spike took the hint and captured the nipple, squeezing and twisting as their bodies began to buck in unison to the pleasure evading them. They were both so, so close, and yet still as far away as could be. In the background, Buffy could hear a faint thudding noise, as if someone was watching and playing a drum, the beat spurring them on and providing a primal, driving rhythm to their dance. And then she realized that Spike was actually fucking her so hard that the whole bed was squeaking and thudding against the wall. She'd be worried if this was anyone else. But it wasn't -- she was with Spike. So, no, there was no need to worry at all, not when Spike's hand was running down her side, tweaking her nipple, tickling her bellybutton, brushing through the course curls hiding her warmth from the rest of the world but him, sliding between their sweat-slicked bodies to capture her clit, rubbing and teasing the little ball of nerves. Buffy's back sprang off the bed and she let out a loud cry, her vaginal muscles clenching and strangling the cool, hard pillar inside of her. Spike was grunting with exertion and while his hand saw to the Slayer's pleasure center, he scooped her ass up from underneath with the other, angling her sharply in order to reach the more sensitive areas inside of her. His tongue slid out and began licking along her shoulder and her collarbone, before focusing solely on the area of her neck where he'd bitten her last. The hand cupping her ass slid down the back of her thigh, lifting her leg and holding it over his shoulder as he drove into her faster and harder. At the first sign of her orgasm, Spike struck, vamping and sheathing his fangs in her neck. Buffy screeched, holding his head to her throat as he drank greedily from the thick, empowering essence dripping off of her skin. Her hips began bucking right off of the bed, slamming into his with more force than she had probably intended, as her body shook from the overpowering orgasm washing over her. Spike snarled, forcing his face away from her neck. He glared lustfully at her, his teeth stained with crimson, as he sliced his tongue and lapped at the wounds. "Mine," he growled in a low voice. Buffy's body went rigid for a moment, sparks the size of meteors flashing in front of her eyes, before she head butted him abruptly, sending him onto his back. Spike reeled with surprise, then calmed down as the Slayer slid on top of him, her hips riding him hard and violently. "Always," she gasped. Spike's jaw dropped, and he attempted to say something to her, to alert her of what she'd just done, but it was a bit difficult to protest with a set of extremely powerful Slayer muscles strangling his aching cock. Spike's eyes rolled up and he groaned loudly, the sound slowly mutating into an animalistic howl. "Buff--" he attempted to cry out, as his hips sprang up, carrying the Slayer with them. One thrust, two, and Spike was launched into space as he released his seed into her. He wasn't sure if the sight he saw next was amazing or horrific -- he was leaning toward amazing -- because Buffy's eyes glowed gold once again. Bending down, she buried her face in Spike's neck, licking and nibbling, and suddenly, Spike felt the all-too-familiar sensation of fangs pricking his skin. His eyes widened in disbelief, but disbelief was short-lived, and incredible arousal flared up in its stead. Buffy had bitten him, and was in the process of -- perhaps drinking was too strong of a word -- lapping at his blood. She sliced her tongue and mingled the blood, murmuring "Mine," in a soft, quiet voice. If possible, Spike's climax intensified, and he replied "Yours," in wonder. As he came down, Buffy flopped on top of him, her head resting in the crook of his neck, her nose nuzzling his throat as she licked her mark clean. Spike lay silent, almost frozen, in shock and disbelief. She'd just claimed him in return, and -- well, to be honest, he had no fucking idea what to do, and for once, he was speechless. On top of that, Buffy had just randomly sprouted fangs in order to bite him! When in the hell did that happen? How the hell was he supposed to know what to do about this? Oh, god, Giles was going to kill him... When he snapped to his senses, his head shifted a bit and he peered down at the tiny blonde resting on top of him. "Do you realize what you just did?" he rasped, staring at her in something akin to awe. Buffy tilted her head, looking up at him and running her fingers through his poodle curls fondly. "I have a vague idea," she murmured. Spike's lips quirked the tiniest bit. "Do you have any idea how you did it?" Buffy shrugged. "I bit you, I drank you, I cut my tongue, big orgasms... what's the problem?" The quirk became a full-blown grin. "The problem, sweetness, is that you grew fangs to do the biting." Buffy rolled her eyes. "What? I did n--" she started, then froze. Pausing momentarily, she raised her hand to her mouth and felt around inside. Her canines were still elongated. Her eyes widened in horror and she quickly searched her face, fearful to feel any demonic ridges that might have formed while she wasn't aware. Nothing. Just the teeth. Spike's grin didn't waver, but his face softened. "Don't have any bumpies, pet. Just the teeth. Oh, an' your eyes were glowing." Buffy's eyebrows went up. "I have glowy eyes?" Spike chuckled. "Yeah, luv. You have glowy eyes." Buffy's nose crinkled up. "I don't know how to feel about that." Spike grinned and pulled her down, rolling on top of her. "I think I do." Buffy grinned back, and as Spike began to move rhythmically inside of her once more, all she could see was him, and his beautiful eyes. A loud growl was coming from -- not just his chest, she realized with a start, but hers, as well. As their moans gained volume, and the slap of their bodies became more and more frequent, the two both failed to hear the squealing groan beneath them. As Buffy and Spike threw their heads back in astonished orgasm, the groaning became louder. The bed cracked and gave way. Buffy gave a startled little scream, clinging tightly to Spike as he was brought forcefully down on top of her. The collapse of his body into hers after her initial orgasm resulted in a third - which exploded into multiples. For moments, Buffy could see nothing but bright lights flashing behind her eyelids. Then finally, as they both drifted down from their high, a soft giggle expelled itself past Buffy's lips. Another giggle followed, and a fairly unladylike snort followed that. Spike, startled by the random noise, began to laugh helplessly while a mortified Buffy buried her face in his shoulder before giving in to the silliness. When their laughter finally died, Buffy looked at him mischievously. "Wanna help me find a new bed?" Spike grinned wantonly. "Let's jus' stick with this one for now." "So Lauren said that Kevin was definitely planning to ask me to the dance, but I have no clue whether to believe her or not, because I've caught Kevin looking at me a bunch of times, and he's always stuttering and stuff when he's around me, but she's lied to me before about the guys I like," Dawn whined as Willow and Tara followed her through the door of the house. The dark-haired girl had figured that three hours was plenty of time for Buffy to give Spike a 'see here' -- or two, or three -- and the Wiccas were gladly walking her, as well as listening to the love trials of a soon-to-be high school sophomore. "I mean, remember the Mark Potter incident? What if she's just pulling another scam, so she can get close to Kevin, and say she's my 'ambassador' or whatever, just so she can go with him to the end of the year dance?" Willow tilted her head, frowning. "I thought Lauren was the friend that could be trusted? Why are you hanging out with her if she's just planning on stealing the guy that you like?" "Well, it's just that --" "Um, guys?" Tara interrupted, looking up the stairway. "I think we came at a bad time." Dawn frowned. "What do you mean?" Tara made the universal 'shhh!' gesture, and pointed up the stairs. Willow and Dawn lent their ears. Faint grunting noises could be heard, as well as a faint thumping. There were several crashes, and the faint shattering of something quite possibly expensive before, suddenly, a high-pitched shriek sounded. Dawn's eyes widened. There was no mistaking Buffy's voice, no matter how... high it sounded. Willow 'eep'ed and motioned a hand toward the door. "Oh, goddess. Come on, let's go! We'll stop back later." No sooner were they out the door when all three heard Buffy's desperate plea: "Oh, god. Oh -- god! God, Spike, take me, take me now!" Willow's face shone a bright red as her jaw dropped and Tara had her mouth covered to keep from laughing. But Dawn, whose wide grin of absolute elation at the knowledge that her sister and Spike were officially serious, summed things up the best she could with a loud, squealed, "Eww!" Willow and Tara burst into laughter, and the three turned to scurry down the walk. TBC. Please leave a review! It's much appreciated ^_^

Chapter #16 - epilogue

banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008 ...epilogue... .:OCD watchers and really big rats:. It could have been rats. Really, really big rats, like the kind that attacked Westley in the forest in The Princess Bride. Those were the kind that wanted to literally chew on you till you bled. It should have been rats. Dawn wished it was. At least then, it would justify all the pounding -- er, banging... No, that isn't much better she thought, blushing. Ah. Maybe rats would justify all the sounds that had been emanating from Buffy's bedroom all last night and early on this morning. Don't they ever take a break? she thought, using Spike's patented rolling-of-the-eyes. It was quite likely that Spike and Buffy had not left Buffy's room at all within the last thirty-eight hours. Which kind of made Dawn's stomach churn. God, how much longer can they keep on going? Her sister and surrogate brother were like the Energizer Bunnies of Porn. All of this, though, had been expected of them. Giles had dispatched Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara to take over patrol for Buffy and Spike while the duo were indefinitely, erm, indisposed. Dawn giggled out loud as she recalled the look on Giles' face as he'd given orders. It had kind of looked like a migraine had launched a full front attack on his head, while he'd been caught between stepping in something awfully rank and eating a really sour lemon. Poor Giles. First, he'd had to deal with the whole Romeo and Juliet thing with Buffy and the schmuck, then there had been Buffy and Spike's 'engagement' last year, and now he had to deal with the knowledge that whatever Buffy and her utterly devoted, soulless, chipless, slightly evil with a side of good Vampire were doing behind closed doors, it was most definitely not Tae-Bo. Since the night that Willow, Tara and Dawn had unwittingly confirmed Spike and Buffy's relationship status, Spike had been chasing Buffy into her room after patrol, both of them flinging the door closed, and within minutes... there was howling. Dawn had no idea where it came from. She didn't want to know. For all the girl knew, Spike -- hell, even Buffy -- were possibly channeling an inner petting zoo. Neither her sister nor Spike were seen by anyone but each other. Until now at least. The animal noises had finally ceased, and the Primitives seemed to finally be emerging from their cave. Dawn wasn't alone at the moment. Willow and Anya were sitting up with her in the living room, watching the aforementioned Princess Bride. Tara was in the kitchen with Joyce, fixing more popcorn and snacks while the Slayer's mother ever so cheerfully attempted to block out the wild animal mating calls coming from upstairs in her own home. Xander had gone on a quick patrol with Giles, rounding up and cuffing -- or rather, staking -- any nasties that hadn't gotten the hell out of Dodge before the Hellbitch's rage had struck. He'd been paged for a Scooby Movie Night by none other than Buffy herself, who had taken out a rare fraction in time to inform him of it. Though why, how, and most importantly, why the thought had come to her was certainly anybody's guess. She had also ordered both Xander and Giles to bring the refreshments for the night before there had been suspicious male chuckling on the other end of the phone, and the Slayer had abruptly hung up. Really, now that Dawn thought back on it, Spike and Buffy were sort of well-deserving with their inability to remain sated of each other, since two days prior to now, the shit had almost truly hit the fan. Glory had officially grown sick of waiting, and had taken the fight to them, blowing out the front window of 1630 in her rage. Several of the crazies that Glory had created from her compulsive brain-sucking had followed her. One in particular had noticed the green aura surrounding Dawn, and as such had completely blown the gang's cover. Glory, ecstatic that she finally knew who the Key was, wanted Dawn, and wanted to get home, and not even the combined strengths of a mated Slayer and vampire, and two extremely powerful witches had been able to keep the the goddess from hauling a terrified, screaming Dawn right down the street. Frantic, and as close to hysterical as one could be without completely losing their head, Buffy had grabbed Spike and headed for the door; startled, he had snatched Willow's arm. Alarmed, the red-head had immediately grabbed her girlfriend, who, in her surprise, grabbed an irritated Giles. The Watcher had quickly urged Xander and Anya to hurry the hell up and grab Buffy before she got them all killed. After a ten minute period in which Buffy violently lashed out and affectively alienated everyone around her except for Spike in the span of an hour, Giles had finally managed to talk her into being slightly rational when she fought Glory, and the group led the infuriated Slayer to the Magic Box. When Giles had skimmed a few manuscripts left behind for them by the monks who had created Dawn, he realized that the girl's kidnapping did have some significance, after all. It wasn't that Glory was just bored -- well, not entirely, anyway. It was the fact that the ritual Glory wanted to perform to return to her dimension was scheduled to take place that very night at nine. The older (looking) Englishman revealed that the scripts informed that the Key was to be funneled into a certain place at a certain time, and since the Key had been made human, it was understood that the essence of the Key was in her blood. A stunned Spike had then come to grips with the situation exactly: should Glory succeed, then Dawn would have to be cut. The Vampire's righteous fury, along with his mate's, grew when the Watcher said that the portal created from Dawn's blood wouldn't close until the blood stopped flowing. In this case, stopped flowing meant Dawn dies. No one had liked that situation. Action had been effective immediately, and the group had set out after Glory and Dawn, essentially hijacking one of the lingering loonies and following them to Xander's construction site, where a very big tower had apparently appeared overnight. Buffy had attacked Glory the second she'd appeared with a troll hammer that Buffy had stolen from an ex-boyfriend of Anya's (who had actually been the troll in question - ew), and the match quickly became one-sided, because Buffy was basically beating the shit out of the goddess with it. She managed to defeat Glory, but not before discovering that the leech's human host was the doctor that had been with Dawn when her sister had nearly been killed at the hospital. Ben had still been alive, but he wouldn't remain that way -- every impact that the hammer had made on Glory had been made on Ben, and the boy had been mortally wounded. He wouldn't have survived ten more minutes. Meanwhile, Spike had spotted Dawn being forced up the staircase of the tower by a lizard-like demon named Doc. Giving a silent command to Giles, Anya, and Xander to back him up if necessary, Spike had grabbed Willow and Tara, who had then combined their powers; he catapulted himself through the throng of crazies as the witches blew them apart, parting them like some inane Red Sea. Shooting up the steps of the tower, Spike tackled Doc, receiving a knife in his gut for his troubles, but not before launching himself and the demon off of the tower to the ground. The schmaltzy little bastard had been preparing to cut Dawn with the knife he had stabbed Spike with, but no serious damage had been done to the girl aside from her terror at seeing Spike fling himself nearly two hundred feet down. In a slow and painstaking way, Spike had taken the demon's knife and had proceeded to cut Doc's head off of his body, not trusting that the fall would have killed him. However, when he'd attempted to head back up the tower on a broken leg to check on Dawn, Doc had remerged with his head. Buffy, from across the construction site, had turned around to focus on her sister and Spike, had seen the unusual threat, and had screamed a warning to her lover at the sight of the really big plank spear in the demon's hand. Spike turned around, just as Doc shoved the relatively thin, but equally dangerous piece of wood through Spike's chest, missing his heart by scant inches. That didn't make it hurt any less, though, and with a roar of pain, Spike had turned enraged, disbelieving eyes to the demon. It got sort of messy after that. After they'd managed to separate Doc's pieces so he couldn't merge together again, and then got the piece of lumber out of Spike's chest, the vampire voiced his complaint: "When the bloody fuck am I gonna stop bein' used as a pin cushion?!" At that point, Buffy had given him a wickedly suggestive half-grin, and had leaned forward to whisper in his ear. After that, the duo had disappeared. Apparently, not even a 2 by 2 inch square through his chest could devastate Spike's sex drive. The two were certainly here now, though, grinning and laughing together as they came down the steps. Spike threw an arm around her lovingly, leaning in and placing a kiss on her forehead, and Buffy leaned in to his touch, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. At the same time, Xander and Giles pushed through the front door. When Buffy and Spike noticed them, Spike's arm fell back to his side. Sheepish grins appeared on both Buffy and Spike's faces as the four stood there staring at each other. Xander gazed at them silently, then smiled, nodding his head. He snorted then and gave them both a thumbs up before wandering into the den, shouting, "I come bearing gifts of foodage; come and get it!" Buffy's smile shrank off her face and she bit her lower lip as she watched Giles gaze at her proximity to Spike. This was the important one; she loved Giles like a father, and though he was well aware of what was between Buffy and Spike, it didn't mean she didn't long for his approval of it any less. She didn't have to turn around to know that Spike's smile had gone missing as well, but she relaxed a tiny bit when he gently squeezed her shoulder. Giles took in the movement, then nodded to Spike slowly. "I trust you to take care of her?" he asked. Spike moved down until he stood on the steps next to Buffy, replacing his arm around her. "Until she kills me." Buffy scowled and jabbed him in the stomach, but succeeded only in making her mate smirk at her obnoxiously. Giles hid his own smile, then cleared his throat when Buffy glanced at him. "We need to tell you something, Giles," she said, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip. The former Watcher tilted his head to the side, curious. "What is it?" Spike glanced at Buffy, then spoke. "Uh, first off... she an' I are mated. Don't go getting all flustered, mate, it's not a bad thing -- at least to us it isn't." Buffy elbowed him again when she saw that Giles was gaping at them in disbelief. "But, uh, right. What we really want you to know, is that, uh... when time came for, er... Buffy to... to, uh, complete the claim... her eyes were glowin'." At that, Giles straightened up and took notice, forgetting all about his shock that Buffy had mated herself willingly to a vampire -- for the moment. "Her eyes were glowing, you say?" Buffy nodded. "Like a vampire's. And that's not even half of it. When I went to bite him, Spike says that I sprouted fangs. No bumpies, just fangs. Giles! I. Had. Fangs!" Giles frowned. "I heard you, Buffy. However, I cannot even begin to say that I know what's happened. I've told you before, there are no records of any Master vampires being mated to a Slayer." Buffy's eyebrows crinkled. "Well, yeah, I know, but aren't you even going to take notes? I mean... you're Watcher-Man. You... scold me on stupid behavior, and... mock my Californian upbringing... and yell at me when I pull a bad battle technique. And you take notes. It's what you do, you take notes! You're not gonna take notes?" Giles chuckled, shaking his head. "No, Buffy, I'm not going to take notes. Tonight is a night for relaxation, after a particularly heinous battle. We will take a break tonight, and research this further tomorrow." He nodded for emphasis, then turned and took the drinks he'd brought with him into the kitchen, passing by Joyce and Tara on their way inside with the popcorn. Spike looked down at Buffy, eyebrows raised. "Watcher's giving us the night off, pet, I say we take it." Buffy nodded slowly, frowning. "Yeah, I agree. But still. Giles? Not wanting to do anything book-ish? This is so majorly of the weird." Her vampire followed Giles's path with his eyes. "Yeah... you're right. But what can we do? If he doesn't want to research, then he's prolly just feeling ill." He shrugged and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Now let's go get pizza before Harris eats it all." Inside the kitchen, Giles sorted through the soda bottles until he'd found the scotch that he had brought for himself and Joyce... and Spike. Peering at the entrance to the kitchen in an almost paranoid manner, he slid his journal out of his jacket, and took up a pen, quickly beginning to scribble in it. 24 May 2001 My Slayer and Spike have informed me that they are mated. I suppose it should be a tragedy to me; however, Slayers have been intimate with vampires in the past. Buffy is not as unique in that department as she would believe herself to be. They've also told me that at the height of their... er, stimuli, and upon Buffy's apparently imminent reciprocation of Spike's claim, Buffy's eyes began gleaming, and her canines extended into fangs. There certainly is a need for research, here. However, I believe that neither Buffy nor Spike are in any danger from it. Or so I hope. It has been two days since the battle with the Hellgod, Glory, a battle that has left all of us utterly exhausted, and yet Buffy... Buffy continues to amaze me, and it seems that in her joining with Spike, she has become an even more irreconcilable force against the damned. She has defeated a god -- my dearest Buffy, with only the limited powers of the Slayer, has taken on a deity -- and she won. Most Slayers' strengths were forged by impeccable detail in training, and cutting off all contact with the outside world, remaining in the underground to hone their skills. Buffy shunned the teachings of the Council, and surrounded herself with people that know of her duty and stand by her throughout it, helping her in her cause; they love her for, because, and in spite of it. Her strengths were forged from her emotions, as anyone who has seen her first three apocalypses (perhaps apocali?) can attest to. I take exceptional pride in her and what she has become. Surprisingly, I am not as angered or fearful of the news that Buffy has taken another vampire to her bed -- as I had believed I would be. Somehow, I sensed that this would be the result of her three-year long... affair, shall we call it, with Spike. As I've said before, Buffy is not the only Slayer to bed a vampire, but of course, I am biased; I still hold her in higher regard than the others. Buffy remains different from the other Slayers in that, while her predecessors had intimacy with vampires, they had never been claimed, nor had been mated to them; those vampires were usually their reason of death. With Spike, the very idea that he would place a claim on Buffy in the first place speaks volumes. Perhaps he had not meant to do it at first, but there is no doubt in my mind about him now -- Spike does care for her. I am certainly not in a place to judge that. And here in itself is where Buffy remains unique: she remains the only Slayer to have ever loved two vampires, to have ever had two vampires turn their backs on their clan for her; and she remains the only Slayer in history to be mated to a vampire, a vampire who is notoriously known in the underground as William the Bloody. I have told her we will research the nature of the claim tomorrow. Tonight will be a night of enjoyment, only. She, Spike, and the others - particularly Dawn - deserve it after what they've gone through. There will be more tomorrow evening. Rupert Giles Watcher Closing the book with a small contented sigh, he turned to get out a few glasses. Filling them with ice and grabbing the bottle of scotch, Giles nearly dropped them when he heard two throats pointedly being cleared. He turned to see Buffy in the doorway and leaning against Spike, who was behind her with his chin resting on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist. Both were smirking insanely. Buffy shook her head at the Watcher's journal on the counter. "I knew it!" Giles sighed and rolled his eyes. Fin Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it more than you know ^_^ This story has so far been the first and only that I have completed -- but trust me when I say that it definitely won't stay that way. Again, thank you all so much for reading and enjoying and giving me so much encouragement. Spuffy fans are the best fans in the world! All my love, AJ