A/N: Previously: Spike proved he's really just a big fluffy marshmallow when he bought Buffy a lopsided furry bastard named Mr.Donald. Also, they made out.

Awesome betas: All4Spike and BloodyHell.

On a completely unrelated topic, could you pretty please read this thread?? My life depends on it! http://bloodshedverse.com/forum.php?go=read&no=25121


Chapter 12


By the time Spike was making his way towards the car, the stupidity of buying her a stuffed animal hit him full force. He hid it behind his back, preparing to throw it away into nearby bushes when Buffy met his eyes from across the lot. Great, now he couldn’t because she’d see it.


Bugger.


How did he get himself into situations like this? Did he want her to make fun of him? Maybe he could somehow manage to sneak the toy into the car’s trunk without her noticing. It sure beat giving it to her and being laughed at while she threw it back in his face. Literally. Or having Buffy pull a Drusilla on him and pat him condescendingly on the head like he was some eager puppy not worthy enough to lick her heels.


Did he enjoy getting his heart broken?


Bloody masochist, that’s what I am.


“Here’s your stuff,” he said gruffly then handed her the bag with clothes in it, keeping his hand gripping the rabbit behind his back.


She took it and reached inside to pull out the contents, looking surprised when she encountered flip-flops.


“Oh, I totally forgot the shoes! Awesome. They even have tiny flowers on them,” she said with a teasing smile.


Spike’s mouth ran a little dry when she dragged the light pink shorts up her lean tanned legs, unwittingly giving him a quick gander at her knickers. Then she slipped into the flip-flops, wriggling her cute little toes experimentally.


“Ah, clothes. How I missed you.”


He certainly hadn’t.


“Right. I gotta… yeah.” He started to back away from her and towards the trunk, praying to any god she would not discover what he was hiding.


“What have you got there?”


He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes in frustration for a second.


Come on, someone give me a break!


“Nothing. Just a pack of cigarettes.”


“Oh. Did you want to light one up before we go? Because I’m not letting you stink up the car.”


“Not right now, no. Maybe at the next stop.”


 Buffy frowned. “Okay, you’re acting way weird. You’re all… twitchy and stuff. More so than usual, I mean.”


He backed further away while she began to stalk him, trying to see around him.


“Would you just leave it, Slayer?”


“Nope. Now you’ve got me curious.” She jumped towards him and yanked on his arm but he put an equal amount of strength to keep it behind his back.


After a few moments of struggling, Buffy said, “Come on, Spike. Show me? Please?”


His shoulders slumped as he let her pull on his arm, ready to face the humiliation. The excruciating silence that followed was so loud in his head he could almost hear the seconds of the clock within the gas station ticking by.


“It’s Mr. Donald,” she said quietly and looked up at him, her dark green eyes alight with bemused wonder.


“It’s stupid. I… um… I shouldn’t have… let me just throw it away.” He moved to do just that when she clutched at his arm with lightening speed.


“No!” She snatched the toy from his fingers and hugged it to her chest. “I like him.”
 

“You do?” She wasn’t making fun of him, was she? Why wasn’t she making fun of him? He had practically handed her the opportunity on a silver platter.


“Yes, Spike. Thank you.”


Then she closed the distance between them and pressed her soft lips against his cheek, leaving him completely stunned. Just that alone made him feel like William again, and he’d never been more thankful for his inability to blush.


“Welcome,” he mumbled when she pulled away, trying to shrug off the feelings Buffy evoked in him so effortlessly.


“Hey, want to see my T-shirt?” she asked with a grin.


He shrugged. “Sure.”


“Okay, just a second.” With that she climbed into the car and slammed the door behind her.


He could vaguely see the shape of her torso through the dark tinted windows as she slipped the T-shirt over her head. Soon she was sliding out of the car with a quiet amusement written all over her face and stretched the T-shirt so he could read the slogan. Admittedly, it took him a while to get his brain working when his eyes got almost permanently glued to her fabric covered breasts.


The T-shirt read: ‘I don’t bite.’


Spike snorted. “Nice, Slayer. Do I detect a dig at yours truly?”


“You know, maybe you should be the one wearing it. How would be that for irony? Though now that I think about it, they did have one that was totally you. Want to know what it said?”


“I bet it was ‘I’m drop dead gorgeous.’”


She shot him an indignant look and continued as though he hadn’t said a word. “It said ‘I’m only wearing black until they make something darker.’”


He smirked and took a step closer to her, his tone deep and low as he whispered, “You know you like me in black.”


She shook her head, swallowing audibly as he backed her against the car.


“You’re way conceited,” she said in a trembling voice. “I don’t like you at all.”


“Is that right, Buffy?” There was barely an inch separating their bodies, and Spike reached out to gently trace the length of her bare arm with his fingertips. “You don’t like it when I touch you like this?”


The way she shivered, her breath hitching in her throat just the tiniest bit, almost drove him wild.


“No,” she protested weakly and for a few seconds that could as well have been hours, their eyes met in the equal submission to desire. Desire for each other, for fulfilling the insatiable lust that couldn’t be denied any longer. Their lips met halfway, burning a fiery path of sensation from his lips right to his very core that made his blood race south.


Buffy’s fingers tangled in his hair just as he pressed her forcefully against the car, the heat of her body seeping into his skin separated by two layers of fabric. The taste of her when the tips of their tongues met in a rapturous symphony had him gripping her hips tight enough to bruise, their moans and whimpers stirring the silence of the parking lot.


Their lips slanted together, rubbing each other raw with the need for more. More feelings, more fire, more everything. The hardened tips of her breasts were pressed against his chest, making him growl with the need to whip the T-shirt over her head and suck them between his lips just like he was currently doing to her tongue. Buffy gripped his hair tighter, her breath getting heavier when he pressed his thigh between her legs and urged her to rock against him.


She threw her head back, gulping in air as she rasped, “We really shouldn’t be doing this… wrong, wrong kissing.”


“Yeah.”


Then they were kissing again, his hand sliding under her T-shirt to graze the hot skin of her stomach, feeling goose bumps rise under his touch. When she didn’t stop him, his fingers crawled up her ribcage until they brushed the underside of her breast. He was learning to crave the sound of those little noises in the back of Buffy’s throat when she was desperate for more.


When he palmed her breast, squeezing lightly, she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, arching her back. He didn’t mind. The fact she must have tasted it and yet had not recoiled in disgust made him harder than anything thus far. If such a thing was possible.


Buffy had wormed her way under his skin. Spike hadn’t even noticed when or how, but the way he craved the very feel of her was enough to convince him Drusilla might have been right all along. By tasting the Slayer, he’d opened Pandora’s Box and now he had to have even more. Her heart, body and soul. He wanted it all, for nothing less would stifle this incredible thirst raging through his body.


Too absorbed in each other, neither of them noticed they were being followed by five pairs of cat like eyes hungry for revenge.


Buffy’s heartbeat was thunderous against his own chest, the rush of her blood so loud in his ears he never noticed the enemy creeping up behind him.


Sharp pain raced up the back of his skull, and then he was yanked away from Buffy’s arms, the roughness of the pavement skinning his palms when he was shoved down. He caught a glimpse of Buffy falling to the ground as well before someone hit him over the head again and the world melted away.


*******


The first thing Buffy acknowledged when she opened her eyes was the pain shooting through her brain, beating at the walls of her skull with the force of a vicious demon. She fought to recall what had happened, and why she was currently lying face-down on the ground in a place she didn’t recognize. The last thing she remembered was Spike. Spike and his lips chipping away at her practically non-existent resistance.


Maybe this was the sign of higher powers throwing reason in her face, literally smacking her with it. One moment of unguarded passion in the arms of her former enemy, and the universe showered her with buckets of doubt.


She wanted him.


The notion of it utterly terrified her, but she couldn’t do anything but crave the taste of him enough for it to physically ache. What was wrong with her? With both of them?


She pulled herself into a sitting position, absentmindedly rubbing the side of her head and musing whether the constant assault on her brain would have lasting effects. Maybe she’d sober up for a change and realize how thoroughly insane she was acting where Spike was concerned.


Where was he anyway?


She glanced around, squinting through the pain pounding behind her eyelids. She was in some sort of roughly built shack or a really big tent of some kind, the walls tightly corded by leaves and branches keeping out the outside elements. There was a narrow cot -- if one could call it that -- constructed from heaps of animal skins and furs. Then it all came back to her. The reason why she was here, and what must have happened.


It was them. The Amazons.


How could they have been so stupid to not have noticed?


What did they do to Spike?


Buffy climbed to her feet, staggering a bit before straightening up to rush to the exit. Cold sweat had erupted on her skin at the thought of Spike being dust. The very thought of it made her nauseous, her stomach rolling rebelliously against the possibility.


She stopped in her stride briefly to gather her bearings. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this. To care. Not for Spike. No matter how his kisses turned her world upside down. Not when she shouldn’t have allowed that to happen in the first place.


When Buffy reached out to brush away the fabric covering the makeshift door, she came face to face with a woman. She was at least a head taller than her, her expression just as startled as Buffy felt.


Snapping out of her shock quickly, Buffy said angrily, “Where am I?”


“Middle of a forest,” the woman replied calmly and her arm grazed Buffy’s slightly when she entered the shack.


“Where’s Spike?”


The woman frowned. “You mean him.”


She said the world ‘him’ with distaste one would use if they stepped in a horse poo.


“Yes! Tell me where he is. What did you do to him?”


The woman sighed. “Nothing. Well, not yet anyway. It hasn’t been decided yet.”


That didn’t sound reassuring at all. She wouldn’t waste any time engaging in a meaningless conversation. Buffy pivoted on her heel and set out to leave. Just as her foot was about to cross the doorstep, an invisible force bounced her back into the room.


TBC