The fabulous banner is by the awesomely talented Ben Rostock.

Chapter 7

It was easy to say that it couldn’t happen again, easy to tell herself that it must not—but way hard to put into effect.

“I don’t want you to patrol with me anymore,” Buffy said abruptly when Spike turned up as usual in the graveyard the next night. “It’s too...”

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other and awareness ran through them like molten lava, a wildfire blazing along every nerve. He’s ten feet away from me, she thought blankly, and I can feel him. Feel his body against mine, his skin, the taste of his mouth...I want him too much.

“Can’t stay away, Slayer,” he said under his breath. “It’s like the Hunger. The blood hunger. You know? Hard to fight. Need to be close. Need the...proximity. Won’t touch you. Swear. Won’t do anything you don’t want me to. It’s just...Feel at peace when I’m close to you.”

It was like that for her too. That peacefulness that came from just being in his presence. Oh, she wanted more, but just the sight of him brought a certain amelioration of the need, and that allowed reason to surface and her brain to remember why she could not permit anything more to happen.

Then it hit her, the thing that she had forgotten about, maybe deliberately blocked from her mind the last few weeks.

“The Hunger,” she said sharply. “Spike...”

“Don’t have to say anything, pet. Haven’t been killing. Feeding, yeah, but not killing. Not since I came back to Sunnydale. Catch and release. Told the minions that’s all they could do too and they’ve been obeying.”

“You’re...not...”

He shrugged ruefully. “Didn’t want that getting in the way when a compromise was possible. Is it enough for you, Slayer?”

It was in fact a huge concession.

“You did that for me?” she breathed, utterly shocked.

“Yeah, well. Knew it would bother you. Kind of a conflict of interest for you, right, if I were killing?”

If he was willing to do something like that...She was starting to believe that he really...

“I-It’s enough for now,” she mumbled, trying to get her head together, then gave him a panicked look when he took a step towards her.

“Won’t jump your bones, Slayer,” he said wryly. “You’ll have to jump mine.”

She laughed involuntarily and he gave her a twisted smile. That was utterly unlikely to happen and he knew it.

Except she kept thinking about it. All that UST, and the problem being that it was unresolved. A certain traitorous portion of her mind kept whispering, ‘Maybe if you resolved it. Maybe then it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. It’s just curiosity, you know. Do it and you wouldn’t have to wonder any longer. It would be behind you then, you could forget about it, it wouldn’t matter...’

Except it would matter, and something like that couldn’t be forgotten. That portion of her mind was lying to her, trying to give her all the excuses she needed to fling caution to the winds. She couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t, however much she wanted to.

The school year wore on. It was autumn now, Halloween just around the corner. Snyder was stalking the halls, grabbing people at random in the corridors.

Willow gave him a dirty look behind his back. “Snyder must be in charge of the volunteer safety program for Halloween this year.”

“Note his interesting take on the volunteer concept,” growled Xander.

Buffy looked around, surprised. “What's the deal?”

“Oh, a bunch of little kids need people to take them trick-or-treating,” shrugged Xander. “Sign up and get your own pack of sugar-hyped little runts for the night.”

“Yikes. I'll stick to vampires,” muttered Buffy.

“Miss Summers!” said Snyder just behind her. “Just the juvenile delinquent I've been looking for.”

“Uh...”

“Halloween must be a big night for you. Tossing eggs, keying cars, toilet-papering respectable homes. One pathetic cry for help after another. Well, not this year, missy.” He held up a pen and a clipboard. “Sign. Now.”

Xander grinned as he watched Buffy sign; he thought it was funny. But Willow had a sick look on her face. Her expectations were confirmed when Snyder thrust the pen at them next, a menacing look in his eye. Xander’s face fell comically.

“I can't believe this,”muttered Xander as they slouched gloomily towards their next class. “We have to get dressed up and the whole deal?”

“Snyder said costumes are mandatory,” sighed Willow.

“Great,” groaned Buffy. “I was gonna stay in and veg. The one night a year things are supposed to be quiet for me.”

Xander looked surprised. “Halloween quiet? I figured it'd be a big old vamp scare-a-palooza.”

“Not according to Giles. He swears that tomorrow night is, like, dead for the undead. They stay in.”

“Guess looking at all the bad fakes offends them,” said Willow dryly. “I hear that there’s a new place opened up on Main Street that’s got some great costumes. How about we all go take a look after school’s over?”

“Sounds good.”

Ethan’s did have some good costumes and the place was packed. Buffy could see its proprietor, a thin dark man, smiling smugly as customers surged around him. She picked up a black and white Morticia wig, considered it dubiously, then put it back. Willow stopped beside her, a costume in her hands.

“What'd you get?” asked Buffy.

“A time-honored classic!” Willow held up a ghost costume.

Buffy sighed. “Okay, Will. Can I give you a little friendly advice?”

Willow looked at the ghost costume. “It's not spooky enough?”

“It's just... you're never gonna get noticed if you keep hiding. You're missing the whole point of Halloween.”

“Free candy?” grinned Willow.

“It's ‘come as you aren't’ night,” said Buffy. “The perfect chance for a girl to get sexy and wild with no repercussions.”

Willow shook her head firmly. “I don't get wild. Wild on me equals spaz.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I’ve got the perfect outfit for you at home. Boots, black leather mini, burgundy crop top...Xander would notice you then.”

“Hey, Xander!” gasped Willow, flushing, as Xander came up behind Buffy. “What'd you get?”

Xander held up a toy military rifle.

“That's not a costume,” Buffy objected.

“I got fatigues from an Army surplus at home,” explained Xander. “Call me the two-dollar costume king, baby!”

“Not a bad idea.” Buffy was studying a billowy 18th-century gown hanging on a mannequin. “Look at this.”

“It's amazing,” agreed Willow.

Ethan Rayne, the store’s proprietor, suddenly turned up beside them.

“Please. Let me.” He took the dress off the mannequin, held it up in front of her and turned her towards a mirror. “My. Meet the hidden princess.”

Buffy’s eyes glazed over at the suddenly ethereally feminine vision in the mirror. “Ohh, it's...”

“Magnificent,” said Ethan Rayne. “Yes, I know. I think we found a match, don't you?”

“I...”

“Come as you aren’t, right?” teased Willow and Buffy made a rueful face at her.

“No, no,” said Ethan. “You look exquisite!”

“I-I'm sorry,” said Buffy wistfully and with genuine regret. “There's no way I could ever afford this.”

“Oh, nonsense,” purred Ethan. “I feel quite moved to make you a deal you can't refuse.”

Buffy took the dress from Ethan and held it up to her chin, smiling dreamily at her reflection. Then she noticed another costume reflected behind her and turned, her eyes widening.

“Wait.”

“But it suits you so perfectly!” exclaimed Ethan in sharp disappointment. Then he saw what she was looking at. He started to smile widely. “Oh, that might be even better!”

***

A lover of chaos was Ethan Rayne and he was looking forward to that delicious chaos that he would cause to occur during Halloween tonight. No malice behind it really, no purpose, just the love of random, destructive disorder. How disastrous! How delightful! And to have the Slayer involved in it all was icing on top of the cake. He smiled down at the Janus mask, the candles and the other ingredients laid out carefully on the table, waiting for his words to activate the spell.

It was time. He stretched out his hands and began to evoke the spell.

“Janus, evoco vestram animam. Exaudi meam causam. Carpe noctem pro consilio vestro. Veni, appare et nobis monstra quod est infinita potestas.”

In his head, the translation ran silently. ‘Janus, I invoke your spirit. Hear my plea. Seize the night for your own purpose. Come, appear and show to us that which is infinite power.’

“Persona se corpum et sanguium commutandum est. Vestra sancta praesentia concrescet viscera. Janus! Sume noctem!”

‘The mask transforms itself into flesh and blood. Your holy presence curdles the bowels. Janus! Take the night!’

The mask flared and Ethan smiled.

“Showtime!”

***

Spike strolled through town, grinning widely, while chaos broke out all around him. Several monsters were chasing people down the street, things were being thrown and windows broken.

“Well! This is just...neat!”

He caught sight of Xander Harris, now the compleat military man with an honest-to-God rifle in his hands which he was aiming wildly at the riot and pandemonium around him. People seemed to be transforming into whatever their costumes had been, becoming the devils and demons and werewolves that they had dressed up as. Someone had clearly cast some kind of spell. He wondered whether anyone shot by Harris’ bullets would stay dead once the spell was over. It would be interesting to find out.

Slayer would probably be freaking right now, but Spike found it hilariously funny. Hey, evil here, and he couldn’t help enjoying the madness.

There was Buffy’s little friend, Red. He had passed her earlier on, all covered up in a sheet with eyeholes, so he wouldn’t have known who she was except for recognizing her scent under that ghost costume. Now the sheet was gone. What she had been wearing under it was a black mini that barely covered her arse and a clingy vee-necked top that stopped just under her breasts and showed off some truly great abs that Spike had never even suspected she was hiding. Wish she dressed like that all the time, Spike thought, looking her over appreciatively. Now that was hot!

She brushed past a tree as she ran towards Xander and, unknown to her, her shoulder passed right through it. Ghost, right. That was going to send the Slayer ballistic.

Slayer was probably gonna turn up any second and grab him by the throat, demanding to know why he hadn’t warned her this was going to happen. But how could he? He hadn’t had a clue. But he didn’t know whether she’d believe him, especially when he couldn’t stop snickering the way he was, relishing the bedlam all around him.

“Ooh, pretty,” purred a voice behind him.

He looked around. Then his jaw dropped.

“Whuh?”

Buffy smiled at him. His gaze ran down her incredulously, came back up lingering helplessly every inch of the way. Black boots with mile-high stiletto heels. Black leather pants that could have been painted on. Black leather strapless bustier that pushed up and revealed half her breasts and a hint of coral pink nipple areola, puckered and hard. His cock went rigid in an instant in his jeans.

A tease, that was what it had been intended to be, that whole outfit. Deliberately meant to turn him on, with the sultry eye makeup and the vivid red of her mouth and her golden hair tumbling on her bare shoulders. Then, to turn the whole thing into a joke, the plastic fangs.

Except those fangs weren’t plastic now. They were real—delicate, sexy, little points showing at the corners of her mouth.

“Seems that you like what you see,” she purred, smiling.

“God, yeah!” All his blood had gone south. He was on fire, burning. “But...but...”

“But what?” She ran her fingertips tantalizingly along his jaw, her eyes heavy-lidded, her parted lips a millimeter away from his.

Cool fingertips, cool breath against his mouth, fangs, no heartbeat...

“You’re a vamp!”

She made an amazing vamp. A dream come true. He’d never have turned her, but that hadn’t kept him from having fantasies about what it would be like if he did.

“Well, so are you.” Long fingernails—press-ons that had turned real—scored his cheek in light scratches that stimulatingly drew blood. He shuddered involuntarily. “And a ve-ry pretty one too.”

She took his lapels delicately between her fingertips and drew his duster wide. Her gaze ran over him appreciatively.

“Oh, yeah,” she purred. “I can’t allow that body to go to waste. It would be unfair to female kind.”

“Buffy...”

“Who’s Buffy? My name’s Elizabeth.” The tip of her tongue explored the corner of his mouth. He damn nearly grabbed her right then and there. “What’s your name, hot stuff?”

“Spike.”

“Ooh, I like that. Will you...spike me?”

God, he wanted to! But he knew it was wrong. She’d never forgive him. She’d come back to herself the minute the spell was off and hate him for taking advantage of her.

“I’d like you to. And you want to.” Her hand ran down his stomach, closed upon his rigid cock through the denim of his jeans, squeezed. His whole body bucked. “Oh, yeah, you want to. Quite a spike you got there, lover.”

Her mouth took his, avid and consuming, deliberately inciting, the way her hand was, rubbing and squeezing his cock and balls like that. The points of her fangs, that she hadn’t properly gotten control of yet, pricked his lower lip. His own fangs extended involuntarily with that stimulus and she made a growling, satisfied sound in her throat, flicked her tongue at them, intentionally cutting herself. Slayer blood spilled into his mouth. That remained the same, despite the change. An aphrodisiac. Overwhelming his senses, the way her body pressing and arcing against his did, and her tongue twining and thrusting about his.

Right or wrong went out of the window.

“Never get a chance like this again,” he muttered. She’d keep holding him off, holding him off, without the spell. Forever. No Slayer could get involved with a vamp.

“Got that right,” she growled into his mouth. “You don’t want me, I’ll find someone who does.”

She would too, the way she was. Vamps had no compunctions. But no one was gonna have her, only him.

“Christ, I want you!”

Just once.

Oh, he knew it was wrong. Knew he was betraying everything that had grown between them so far. He had made a vow to himself, that he would protect her. He had so far, even from himself. But this!

Her hands upon him, her body writhing against his. He was so aroused his cock was like a steel rod in his jeans and his brain was frying. Didn’t care about anything anymore, not when she was offering herself like this. And, hey, he was a vamp. No soul. No conscience. Evil here, dammit.

“Got a place, Spike-alicious?”

He tried to think past the red haze of imperative desire that had taken over his brain. “Uh...”

“Or right here will do.”

Her thigh was wound around his hip, stiletto heel digging into one buttock. She was pulling him down onto the grass in the midst of all the screams and running figures. He suddenly remembered that people might be looking for her, that they’d want the Slayer to help them get rid of the spell. He might lose his whole chance if her Watcher or Willow stumbled across them.

“Oh, no,” he snarled. “Oh, no. No distractions. Nothing to get in the way.”

“Fine by me,” she laughed.

“Come on.” He caught her waist and yanked her forward.

Vamp speed got them to his flat in no time, even with her running her hands all over his arse and groin as they went so that he ended up stopping every block or so to crush her to him and damn near eat her alive. She ate him right back greedily. They stumbled through the door, falling over each other’s feet, ended up against the wall, kissing passionately.

Her hands were under his duster, running down his back, thrusting past the belt of his jeans. Cool fingers grabbed the cheeks of his ass, kneaded. She laughed as he groaned aloud.

He shoved her head back, sucked his way down the line of her throat, ran his lips over the creamy mounds of her breasts, inflaming above the edge of her bustier. She laughed and tiptoed to press them harder against his mouth. Her hands were shoving at his duster, pushing it off his shoulders. He let it fall to the ground behind him, his own hands busy trying to figure out how to get the bustier open. If it had had laces, he probably would have ripped them apart in exasperation; but it had a concealed zip, thank God. He yanked that downwards, then froze halfway when her breasts spilled out.

God! Beautiful breasts, small but perfectly shaped, candy-tipped with deep pink nipples puckered into hard points with desire. His mouth closed hungrily over one, sucking hard; his hands found their soft weight, rubbing and kneading. She arched against him, her head falling back against the wall, her body shuddering and melting into his.

“Oh, I like that,” she purred. “More!”

Like he was going to stop. He feasted on her breasts. This was Buffy, for all she was a vamp and called herself Elizabeth now. Her lips on his skin and her scent all around him and the taste of her flesh in his mouth. Even the coolness of that flesh and the lack of heartbeat did not get through the haze of his brain. It was what he was accustomed to, after a hundred and twenty years of making love to Dru; it was familiar and made it easy to surrender to the flow. Both the demon and the human sides of him had wanted this too long.

His fangs kept extending, even though he tried to keep them back, pricking and raking over her skin. But she only made a throaty sound of pleasure and writhed against him. When she yanked the neck of his T-shirt sideways, ripping it, and her own small fangs sank into his shoulder and he hissed involuntarily in helpless pleasure, he remembered just how stimulating bites could be to any vamp.

She was yanking at his tee now, pulling it upwards. He let her drag it over his head and fling it away.

“Oh, my,” she purred. “Even prettier than I expected.”

He couldn’t help grinning, pleased by the heat in the way she was looking at him. Then her hands and her mouth were running over his torso, fangs biting softly. He gasped, his breath shuddering in his mouth.

“Come on, vampire,” she growled against his stomach. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

He was beyond words. He just scooped her up, swept her into the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced, giggling, and he caught her feet, one after the other, and yanked her boots off.

“All right!” she exclaimed as he unzipped her leather pants and peeled them off her.

He stepped back to toe off his Docs and tear his own jeans off. She lay there, laughing, her arms flung over her head, wanton and abandoned, with her breasts spilling out of the half-open bustier and her legs sprawled shamelessly wide in the minuscule scarlet thong left after he had ripped her pants off. Red and black, colors guaranteed to turn on a vamp. He wondered whether she had known that when she had dressed for tonight, whether she might possibly have intended it to go this far. He wanted so much to believe that she had.

He was so hard now, it was painful. Naked, he moved towards her and she came up like a striking snake, caught his fully aroused cock in her fisted hand.

“Velvet over steel,” she purred. “Yeah, you want me.”

She bent and her mouth closed over the head of his cock.

“Oh, Jesus!”

He nearly came right there and then like a teenager, his mind blanking out in total disbelief at the sight of her doing that, the exquisite feel of her sucking on him.

“Pet, stop!”

She looked up at him incredulously. “Why?”

“Wanna be in you the first time I come.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. I like that.” She smiled at him. “We can do that later then?”

“Oh, God, yes..!”

She frowned suddenly. “But maybe you didn’t like it.”

“Are you insane? I nearly shot my load right then!”

She smiled, but the frown remained. “Yeah, but you didn’t, so I can’t have been doing it right. I want to, but I don’t know how!”

Vamp desires, human inexperience. Turning vamp had given her the freedom to give in to her appetites, indulge her sexuality without any restraints. But this was still her first time.

“Never done it before, is why.”

“Then show me!”

“Oh, pet, I’d love to!” he muttered and fell upon her.

She laughed, her arms and legs closing on him demandingly. They twined around each other, hands and mouths raking each other’s bodies. Her nails clawed his back, drawing blood; her fangs bit him all over in the harsh, rough, frenzied, unbearably stimulating fury of vamp lovemaking.

“Buffy,” he muttered drunkenly, lost in that endless maelstrom of pleasure. “Buffy...”

“Elizabeth!” she snarled. “Oh, come on, damn you! Don’t make me wait! Come on!”

They had both reached the point where further restraint or stimulation was unendurable. He couldn’t wait either, yanked her thighs up around him, came into her as carefully as he could.

“God, you’re tight!” he gasped.

This being her first time, she would have been tight even if she had been an ordinary human, she was so small. But being a Slayer, with that Slayer sheath, those Slayer muscles, she would most likely always be tight. He heard her catch her breath as the broad head of his cock breached her entrance and stretched her.

“Oh, God, that feels...” She gulped. “Wonderful!”

“Oh, Christ...” He shut his eyes for a moment in ecstasy. It felt unbelievable, to be finally taking her.

He worked his way carefully into her, came up against the barrier and paused. If she had still been human, he could have made it easy for her, could have bitten her and let the rapture of his taking her blood blot out the pain. But she was a vamp right now and that only worked on humans.

She clenched upon him suddenly and even though he was only partially within her, it almost fried his brain. He hissed in helpless pleasure.

“Fuck gentle!” she snarled, grabbed his ass and surged against him, impaling herself.

His whole length slammed into her, balls-deep, and he gasped. She yowled, but it was in pleasure not pain.

“Yes! Just like that!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

And then she bit him. Right at the junction between neck and shoulder, that trigger point for a vamp. His brain shorted right out and he rammed into her helplessly, beyond thought, lost to everything but sensation.

“Harder,” she was muttering. “Harder!”

Vamp or Slayer, she could take it, he realized and simply let go, hammering into her, moving faster and faster, unable to stop, unable to hold back. She thrust right back at him demandingly, the two of them driving each other higher and higher, snarling and frenzied.

He felt her seize up, her sheath clenching and rippling upon him, fell over the edge himself, spurting into her in blind ecstasy.

“Oh, yeah,” she whispered against his ear when the world came floating back to him at last. “Oh, that was something else, lover. Want more. Go again?”

He grinned against her hair. “Sure. Won’t take but a minute.”

Her face nuzzled against his neck. “I like this. I like you. Do you like me?”

“You have no idea,” he breathed. “God!”

“That sounds like something more, lover.”

“Is. Love you. Vamp or Slayer, I love you.”

Her open mouth slid up and down his neck, sucking lightly. “What’s a Slayer?”

“Give it a few hours,” he sighed ruefully, “and you’ll remember.”

Her fangs slid into his neck teasingly and he shuddered in pleasure.

Then he felt the draw as she sipped at his blood.

“Mine,” she purred.

His head jerked up and he stared at her.

God, it was tempting! Accept the claim. Claim her back. Then she would be his. Forever. Once made, the binding could be broken only by death. No one could take her from him. Not her Watcher, not her friends, not the sodding Council. And the bond would not be affected by the spell she was under now, would hold unalterably. It would be so easy!

All he had to do was say yes.

“No!” he said violently. “No! Not like this! Not under a spell. Won’t take away your choices. Won’t cheat you like that. No!”

It was bad enough that he had done this, taking what she would not have given him if she hadn’t been under a spell. But at least he could tell himself that it was only for the duration of the spell.

For the length of the spell, yes. But not forever. He wasn’t that evil, couldn’t do that to her.

“Don’t you want it?” she asked, a little hurt.

He dropped his forehead against her shoulder, his eyes shut, shuddering. “Oh, God, I want it! So much. But I can’t.”

“Then I’ll bring it up again later,” she smiled. “I want you and you want me. I’ll wear you down, pretty demon. I can be persistent. Maybe you’ll change your mind tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Tomorrow.”

But tonight she was his. And wild. And willing. And even though she was a vamp and not really Buffy, she was still Buffy, so he couldn’t give up a moment of this. And it was becoming painfully obvious to him as that delirious night wore on and they turned and twisted and coiled about each other, taking each other again and again, that there was no form she could take, no creature she could become, that would ever keep him from loving her, wanting her. In whatever guise, she was Buffy.

‘I am so screwed,’ he thought, driving into that cool body while she laughed against his mouth and clawed welts down his thighs. ‘I’m a goner. Sodding, hopeless idiot.’

More of a fool now than he had been when he was that stupid, useless poet all those decades ago. Past praying for.

Heat exploded around his cock. That tight sheath he was forcing himself into again and again suddenly became a furnace.

“Oh, bloody hell!” he groaned into her warm neck. “And I thought it couldn’t get better!”

It was infinitely better now. He had never felt anything like this before, the heat of the human body wrapping around him, clenching upon him. It was a wondrous, excruciating rapture.

Then it hit him. The heat of the human body. His head jerked up in shock and he froze. It was Buffy looking back at him, her eyes huge.

Someone must have found a way to defuse the spell. Spike’s brain went appallingly blank. No justification possible for this.

Oh, my God! Buffy was thinking, horrified. What the hell happened? How the hell had she gotten where she was? With Spike on top of her, inside her...

And the way he felt! So enormous, that unfamiliar thickness of him felt within her unaccustomed body. So...wonderful. The heavy weight of him and that skin satin against hers and his gasping breath panting against her face. She was wound so tight, he had driven her so high, that her body screamed for release. She was teetering on the edge, arms and legs wound around him. One more thrust would send her over that edge and, oh, she wanted that thrust.

She saw the look of shame and guilt pass over his face, then a kind of despairing recklessness take its place.

“Show you,” he muttered. “Show you all of it. What it can be between us...”

His fangs sliced into her neck and he drank. And at that draw, a blaze of white fire shot through her every nerve. She came blindingly hard, her sheath clenching and gripping involuntarily upon his cock within her, heard him groan around the fangs still drawing her blood, came again helplessly when, unable to keep still, he powered into her.

Her brain blanked out in absolute ecstasy under the double penetration of his cock and his fangs.

TBC