a/n – Okay, so I apologize for not working on Who Am I? but Willow is being difficult and Spike just won’t let his evil come out and play like I want.  I’m going to have to beat them both into submission (ooo, sounds kinky! lol) but for right now, I really wanted to get to the smut. 

So.

For all you out there who asked for a sequel to A Day at the Beach, as Anyanka would say...wish granted. :-)  

Oh and, though, I TRY to write PWP, I seem to continue to be allergic to it.  If you want the smut, you, like me, have to put up with at least some story.  Sorry. **loud air kissy noise**

**hugs** sfg

Title:  A Night at the Beach Author:  scifi_gk
Claim:  BtVS (fandom)
Pairing:  Buffy/Spike
Prompt:  002 - Night
Rating:  NC-17 (duh, it’s SMUT. lol)
Summary:  After the events of Becoming pt 1 & 2, Buffy still has issues to deal with.  Set during Season 3’s Anne.  SEQUEL TO: A Day at the Beach.
Disclaimer:  I don’t even own my time.  Please don’t sue.  It’s just smut. ;-)
Author’s note:  For the LJ community of 50_Smutlets
Acknowledgements:  Thanks to Gail for her beta job.  You’re the best, my friend.

~~~***~~~

Los Angeles, California

Buffy sighed as she looked around.

Great.  This beach again.  Now all I need is an amorous bleached blonde to knock my socks off – literally – and turn to dust just as I’m experiencing the best orgasm of my life and it’ll be juuuust perfect.

As if on cue, a snarky voice rang out behind her.  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.  Drusilla, you dozy bint.  This was NOT my fault!  YOU were the one that worked the mojo.  Now get me the hell out of here!”

When Buffy turned, she saw him bathed in the moonlight, standing next to the scarred and pealing Lifeguard tower and he appeared to be talking to the night sky.

“Spike?”

He spun around, his leather duster flying out behind him.

“Slayer.  Just great.”  He patted his pockets for his cigarettes like he had back in Sunnydale when he’d approached her about their unusual truce.  He stopped abruptly, looking down at himself.  “Well, at least I’m not dressed like a nancy-boy this time.”

Buffy rolled her eyes.  He had looked really good in the rich wine colored shirt and dark linen slacks he’d had on the last time she’d dreamed of him, but she wasn’t about to say that to him.

Besides, he made her less nervous in his standard black on black covered by black ensemble.  It was a constant.  Something she understood.  Classic evil, soulless Spike.

Not disturbingly gentle and loving Spike engaging her in mystically initiated sexual acrobatics with someone she was supposed to hate but had wound up grieving for upon waking.

The stupid vampire.

When he shrugged out of his duster, she ignored the way the moonlight glinted off the pale skin of his toned arms and the way the muscles rippled as he laid the coat flat out on the sand. 

She did!  Okay, she tried to ignore it.

But when his hands went to his belt, his nimble fingers making short work of it, she balked. 

“What are you doing ?!”

He paused with his fingers on the top button of his jeans.  “’m here, right?  If the bint’s gonna muck around upstairs in the grey matter, don’t see any reason I shouldn’t get the shag as payment.  Serve her right.”

He popped the top button and Buffy’s eyes widened.

“Stop that!  There will be no Shaggy!  A-and no Scoobie, for that matter.”  He lifted an eyebrow at her and smirked.  “Don’t look at me like that.  Just because your girlfriend’s a ho, doesn’t mean you get to jump me whenever you pop up in my dreams.   Its, its disgusting what we did here last time!”

“Oh, ho!  Really?” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.  “That why you were pantin’ and clawin’ and whimperin’ my name when you came, luv?  Stranglin’ me with those bloody amazing Slayer muscles?”

Buffy’s mouth fell open.  “Oh my GOD!  You are such a pig, Spike!”  He didn’t deny it.  In fact, he looked really pleased with himself.  “You jerk!  You-you took advantage of me in my grief!  You-you...” 

He smirked again.

That was the last straw.  She’d been hurting and alone, grieving day after day, night after night.  Guilt weighing on her all the time, even in her dreams, choking her, crushing her spirit, robbing her of her calling and leaving a bitter taste in her mouth as she refused to acknowledge the largest part of herself.

Since Sunnydale, that emotional overload had shut her down, encasing her in a shell of numbness.

His smirk cracked that shell wide open and out spilled an emotion – anger.  Raw and hot.

Before she even realized what she was doing, her fist was connecting with the smirking vampire’s nose.

“Oi!  What the bleeding hell?” he cried, holding his bloodied nose and glaring at her.  After a moment, the angry look softened and a smile bloomed on his face.  “’ello, Slayer.  Thought you’d gone looking for your death, luv, but I can see you got your fire back.  How ‘bout you and me dance, then?”

Buffy let out an exasperated sigh.  “Look, Spike, as entertaining as this dream is...not …I’m not going clubbing with you, so why don’t you scurry on back to your skanky vamp hobag—”

The punch sent her reeling and hurt like a son of a gun. 

Ow.  Isn’t this supposed to be a dream?  That freaking hurt.

“I wasn’t talking about ‘clubbin’’, luv.  I was talking about—” he swung and she instinctively blocked, “—the Dance.”

“You.”  He swung, she ducked under his arm, shoving him away with an open handed blow to the sternum.

He stalking back toward her, regaining the lost ground.  “Me.”  He said and swept his leg out.  She easily jumped it and landed a blow to his cheek when he popped up from his crouch, which he absorbed by swinging round and channeling the momentum back into a punch that sent her sprawling on the sand five feet away.

She struggled to regain her breath and looked up at him.  A trickle of blood had bloomed in the corner of his mouth and when he touched his tongue to it his demon surged to the fore, fangs elongated, forehead bumpy, eyes a feral yellow. 

He grinned.  “The Dance, luv.  You’re outta practice.  If we’re not gonna fuck, then at least let’s fight.”

Buffy was stunned.  “You have a death wish.”

Spike quirked an eyebrow.  “I could win.”

She snorted.  “No, Spike.  You really couldn’t.”

Like lightning, he was on her and they grappled until she gathered her strength, tossing him off her and regaining her feet.  They circled each other warily. 

And for the first time in weeks, Buffy felt a smile tug at her lips.  She felt...alive.

After a moment, Spike’s nostril’s flared and he grinned, his fangs gleaming white in the moonlight.  “Ah, there it is.  Slayer’s awake again.  Show us what ya got, then, luv.  And no holdin’ back or I’ll rip your throat out and bathe in your blood.”

Buffy actually did smile at that, a dangerous, feral smile.  “You can try.”

She spun forward, her fist connecting solidly with his chin and followed up with a couple of blows to his torso.  Spike just laughed and returned the blows, strong and vicious.  With each mark she pummeled into him, each bruise that bloomed on her own body from his responses, Buffy regained a piece of herself. 

They were both bruised and bloody, breathing heavily, though Spike didn’t need to, when they finally came to a stop.

Through his huffing breaths, Spike said, “You did what you had to, luv.  He was gonna end the world.”

Buffy, hands braced on her knees, didn’t meet his eyes.  She let her breathing even out a bit before she replied.  “He had his soul.  At the end.  When I was going to...I saw it light up his eyes.  But...it was too late.  Acathla was open and I had to...”

Buffy found herself unexpectedly in Spike’s arms, his hands stroking soothingly down her back.  Hands that inflicted the recent aches and pains on her body, vicious, deadly hands, gently comforted her. 

“Oh, luv, I’m sorry, so sorry you had to do that.   But, gods, Slayer, you’re amazing.  So strong.”  He nuzzled her hair and whispered, “So beautiful.  You’re a treasure, you are.”  He pulled back and tipped her chin up so her eyes met his.  “You’re wastin’ away here, Slayer.  Hidin’ isn’t your style.  You’re strongest when you have a purpose, luv, you know it’s true.”

Buffy stared into his clear blue eyes, wondering at the compassion she saw there.  “I thought you were going to rip my throat out and bathe in my blood.”

He grinned, his lips close enough to breath cool air over hers as he spoke.  “You didn’t hold back.”

Buffy dropped her eyes to his mouth, slightly battered and bloody but still luscious, and murmured, “I can’t seem to hold back with you, Spike.”  When he lowered his mouth toward hers, she flinched and pulled back as far as she could in his iron embrace.  “No.”

His eyes narrowed.  “Why not?”

“Why not?” Buffy repeated, incredulous.  “Why not?  Do you not remember what happened last time?”  She slapped him on the shoulder.   “You turned to dust in my arms, you big dope!”

“Yeah,” he sighed, remembering.  “Stung like a bitch, too.  But what a way to go.”

Buffy’s mouth dropped open.  “Are you insane?”

Spike’s eyes held hers.  “Buffy.”  She shivered at the sound of his voice caressing her name.  “Tell me that you don’t want me.”  When she opened her mouth to say that very thing, he cut her off.  “And don’t lie to me, Slayer, ‘cause I have vamp senses and I’ll know.”

Buffy swallowed.  What could she say?  As gross as the whole sniffing people was, she couldn’t exactly claim no reaction, especially in light of the fact that even she could smell her own arousal after their sparring match.  Still...

“I don’t want...” She winced as his arms tightened around her.  “...to kill you.”

She was unnerved by the expression on his surprised face and began squirming a little in his embrace until he clamped a hand on her chin and stilled her.

“You care.”  He sounded so shocked that she actually flinched, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

“Well, you did help Giles and—”

“You.  Care.”

“I’m just—”

Spike’s mouth covered hers, stopping her words as effectively as he stopped her thoughts.  That amazing tongue of his slid along the crease of her lips, teasing the sensitive skin, inviting her own tongue to come out and play. 

Or, at the very least, open the door to let him in. 

One more flick and she lost the fight, groaning and giving him his entrance.

Buffy was still stunned at the flavor of Spike.  He was spicy and sweet.  Tangy and the slightest bit coppery from the blood he’d swallowed.  Picking up that faint tang did something to Buffy and she deepened the kiss, devouring his mouth with her own, running her tongue over his teeth and teasing his sheathed fangs, causing him to growl low in his throat.

She pulled back, ending the kiss and noticed that her rough ministrations had reopened the cut at the corner of his mouth and it was bleeding a little bit again.  He made to run his tongue over it but before he could, she snatched his chin in her hand and he froze, giving her a questioning look. 

She didn’t even spare him a glance, so enthralled by the bead of blood pooling on his pale skin.

“Spike,” she whispered.  “What’s it like?”

His eyes had gone nearly black with desire and he was breathing rapid, unnecessary breaths.  “Go on, baby.  Give it a taste if you want to know.”

She shook her head, “No, I don’t want to...be...to change.”

“It won’t vamp you, luv.  I’d have to drain you for that.  Just a taste, is all.  Satisfy that Slayer curiosity.”

“No, I...” she paused, shifting her eyes to his.  “You want me to, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, baby,” he groaned. “So bad.  But if you don’t want—”

His words locked in his throat and his eyes fluttered closed as she tentatively ran her tongue over the small bleeding wound.  She let it sit on the tip of her tongue as she waited for him to open his eyes.  When he did, she brought her tongue back into her mouth, swirling the flavor over her taste buds.

She had done it partly out of curiosity and partly to please him, but she was unprepared for the visions that assailed her when his blood slid down her throat.  She jerked in his arms and her eyes rolled back.

Running.  No.  Chasing.  No.  Hunting!  Yes, hunting.  Blood pumping through her, freedom, passion, challenge. 

Alive, alive, alive.

She launched herself forward and tackled her prey, sliding the stake from her waistband, a black aura shone from the faceless vampire beneath her and it seethed around the undead, oily and viscous and foul.  It angered the beast inside her, calling for retribution, and she plunged the stake into its heart.

Falling, falling, falling.

She landed hard on another vampire’s back, forcing it to the ground and reaching again for her stake but before she could grasp it, she was flung off and set upon by the creature.  Pinned, arms trapped beneath strong knees, the Slayer growled and hissed and looked up to find a glowing aura glaring, blinding her.  She flexed and bucked, tossing the vamp off her, and she quickly regained her feet. 

A strange voice came from her as she stared at the brilliant aura before her.  “You fight the darkness in you.  Find the path or I must slay you.  And I would not choose to extinguish your light for it is beautiful to me.”

“Luv?  Buffy?”

Spike’s concerned voice brought her out of the visions, yet when she looked at him, she saw a ghost of the beautiful light hovering about him.

“Beautiful,” she whispered in awe.  “So beautiful.”

Shock registered on his face first, followed by amazement and then a flare of raw need.

“God, Buffy, let me in, gotta be inside you, luv, please.”  Desire made his voice quaver and that sound sent a rocket of lust through her.  She grabbed two fistfuls of her dress and leapt up on him, hooking her legs around his hips.  He caught her and held her firmly to his straining erection. 

She wiggled enough to get her hand between them, pulling the zipper down and freeing him from the confining denim.  It was a simple matter to push her panties to the side and guide him in to her, and then he was there.

Cool and hard and oh so perfectly matched to her.

“God, Spike, don’t dust this time, please, don’t dust,” she muttered over and over again as his hands guided her hips and she rode him with fervor, the passion quickly building to a crescendo.

“Won’t matter, luv.  I’ll come back.  I’ll always come back.  For you.  My Buffy.  My beautiful Slayer.  My love.  Oh, fuck, you burn me so good, baby.”

His words went through her, stunning her, filling her, healing her, and sending her over the edge.

“Spike.”

And then he was joining her, shuddering and spilling himself in her depths, the look of joy and amazement on his face the last thing she saw as he faded away.

~~~***~~~

The words, “I’ll come back.  I’ll always come back.  For you.  My Buffy,” whispered on the wind stirring the curtains in her dingy apartment and Buffy’s eyes fluttered open, a hint of a smile on her lips.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, looking around the sad little apartment.  Dream Spike was right.  Hiding wasn’t her style.

“’Strongest with a purpose’, huh?  Alright, Spike.  Let’s go back to the blood bank and find out what that nurse was hiding.  For Lily.”