Disclaimer: Joss Whedon’t characters, I’m just playing.
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Chapter 10: Fallout
 
Spike had planned to spend the remaining daylight hours asleep, in the hopes of passing the time without masturbating constantly. His dreams had been wild and erotic, as before. He had moaned and tossed in his sleep to the point that an observer would swear he had an invisible bed partner.
After a particularly vivid dream involving Buffy, Faith, and a large quantity of oil, he awoke to the sound of a noise in the tunnel. Noiselessly he slid out of bed and over to his dresser. He reached for a wicked looking knife and stood to the side of the tunnel entrance, waiting. He was on various demons’ shitlists, and he knew it, and found it best to be prepared. He was totally unprepared, however, for a high pitched voice to say “Blondie bear? Are you here?”
 
“Harmony?” he said, stepping out so he could see into the tunnel. There stood Harmony, in all her ditzy splendor, wearing jeans and a pink top with a ludicrous sequined unicorn on it. “What in blazes are you doing here?” Thought I was shut of you for good.
 
The blonde vampiress giggled. “I was just passing through. I had been up in San Francisco with this guy Raoul, but he split on me. I’m on my way to L.A., but figured I would stop and say hi to my blondie bear first.” She unconsciously licked her lips at the sight of his naked form.
 
Spike’s cock, which clearly could not tell one blonde from another, started hardening again. “I guess you could stay here tonight,” he said reluctantly. “But I’m not really in the mood for long time house guests.” He fought a tremendous battle between his brain, which had had enough of Harmony for five lifetimes, and his cock, which would be glad to shag anything that could possibly work from an anatomical standpoint.
 
“I knew I could count on you, Spikey!” she squealed, hugging him tightly. At the feeling of her jiggling breasts pressed against his chest he hardened even further. His hands automatically moved down to cup her ass. His brain struggled to maintain even a semblance of a protest.
 
“Oooh, Spikey,” she purred. “Did you really miss me that much?”
 
Not really, I’m just dying for a shag lately. His brain waved a white flag of surrender and he pulled her into a kiss. Hardly saying a word he made quick work of her jeans and panties and had her down on the bed in about three minutes.
 
“Wow, you really did miss me!” Harmony exclaimed. Spike wasted none of his considerable foreplay skills on her. He moved automatically, as if he was controlled by some outside force. As soon as she was on the bed he was on top of her, grunting as he slid into her cool center.
 
“Oh yes, Spikey, I missed you too!” Spike gritted his teeth as he pounded her. Spikey. God I could rip her fucking head off every time she calls me that. I’m Spike, or William the Bloody, not Spikey. His cock had a mind of its own, however, and ignored her annoying voice in favor of getting some relief from the constant hard-on.
 
He shoved up her shirt and buried his face in her enormous boobs as he fucked her. After a quick few minutes of completely mindless rutting with absolutely none of his usual finesse, he roared and came, panting unnecessarily.
 
“That was quite a welcome, blondie bear,” she said, a little amazed at how fast it had all happened.
 
Spike got himself enough under control to become aware of where he was. This wasn’t the hot, tight body of the Slayer, with her vanilla scented hair and her sweet, warm blood. This was Harmony, with her cold, clammy cunt and her stupid valley girl voice and her annoying penchant for unicorns. This wasn’t witty quips and smartass remarks. This was vapid, self-centered prattle that he had learned to detest over the last month or two they were together. This was not even remotely what he wanted any more. He had tasted the Slayer, and nothing else would do after that.
 
Disgusted with himself, he practically jumped off of her and backed away. Harmony rose up onto her elbows and looked at him quizzically. “Blondie bear? What’s wrong?”
 
He turned away, clenching his fists and trying to keep it together. “You need to leave, Harm,” he said in a low, deadly tone.
 
“But… I just got here,” Harmony said in a confused voice.
 
“I know. I’m sorry. And I… I shouldn’t have done that,” he ground out. “But it’s over between us, Harmony. You need to leave. I’m really not… safe to be around right now.”
 
“But, you said I could stay the night…”
 
“Get out!” Spike roared, vamping out in frustration and turning on her with fire in his yellow eyes.
 
Alarmed, Harmony grabbed her jeans and pulled them back on. But she recovered enough to snap out, “Well fine! Just use me and toss me out! I can get better guys than you by the dozen in L.A.!” She glared at him with all the fury her ditzy little frame could muster. Turning on her heel she stomped back out into the tunnel. “You’ll miss me!” she shouted behind her
 
Not bloody likely, he thought, shaking off his fangs as her footsteps faded in the distance. He rubbed his hands on his face and went to take a shower. I can’t believe I just fucked Harmony. He looked down at his still semi-hard cock. What the hell were you thinking? Got a bloody mind of your own lately, mate. Then he reached for the soap thinking, and now, you’re conversing with your own dick. You’ve gone right round the bend this time, William. He rinsed himself off and got out, puzzling and puzzling over what could possibly be going on.
 
Right. Time to go back to the Magic Box. Slayer’ll probably stake me on sight, but maybe the watcher has some ideas on what the bloody hell is wrong with everyone. His senses told him that it was past sunset, so he got dressed, threw on his duster, and headed out across Restfield.
 
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“Buffy you killed him!”
 
The words echoed in Buffy’s ears as she stepped back, shaking her head in disbelief. “No,” she whispered. “No. No. No.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she kept shaking her head again and again.
 
“Buffy,” Giles began, reaching a hand toward her.
 
“Get away!” she screamed, and she turned and bolted out the door. Two feet outside the door she crashed headlong into Spike. Spike hit the ground, cursing, but his presence barely registered on Buffy. She picked herself up and sprinted off into the night, leaving a bewildered vampire in her wake.
 
Something’s up, Spike thought. He dashed into the store and took in the sight of Giles dialing 911, Xander on the floor bleeding, and Anya weeping at his side. Willow came rushing in from the training room with a towel that she pressed to the back of Xander’s bleeding head.
 
“What happened?” he asked, crouching down next to Willow.
 
“Buffy hit him and knocked him across the room. She just totally lost it.” Willow replied.
 
“Oh God! Is he going to be ok?” Anya wrung her hands as tears ran down her cheeks. Please don’t let him die! I didn’t really want to leave him!
 
Spike listened to the whelp’s steady heartbeat and looked him over. “I think he’ll be alright, pet. Scalp wounds bleed a lot. Might have a broken jaw.” Xander’s face was bruising up already, and something was definitely out of place under Spike’s probing fingers. “But his heartbeat’s steady, breathing’s fine. Probably gonna have a hell of a headache when he wakes up.”
 
Giles hung up the phone. “The ambulance is on its way. Anya, you had better go with him.” He turned to the witch. “Willow, you should go find Tara, make sure she’s ok. By non-magical means this time,” he added pointedly. Willow gulped and nodded.
 
“I’m going after the Slayer,” Spike said, standing up. “She’s gonna do herself an injury in that state.”
 
“Agreed. Just… be careful,” Giles said. I can’t believe I just told the Slayer of Slayers to watch himself around Buffy. What is the world coming to?
 
Spike raised a scarred eyebrow at that last comment, then turned to go. Outside the door he vamped out and sniffed the air for the Slayer’s scent. He caught it and his erection returned instantly. Not the time, mate. Concentrating on his quarry, he took off into the night.
 
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Buffy ran blindly from the Magic Box, her guilt like a whip spurring her onward. I killed him. Oh God, I killed Xander. He stayed by me all these years and I killed him over a stupid misunderstanding. No, oh no… She kept running and running until even her Slayer strength waned and she collapsed on the ground, weeping hysterically. Xander I’m sorry I’m so sorry… She lost track of how long she sat there, shaking and crying.
 
“Aw, is the Slayer upset?” hissed a voice. She looked up to see five vampires approaching. “You took out the rest of our gang the other night. Payback time, bitch.” They all carried chains or metal pipes, and swung them menacingly.
 
Buffy got to her feet and wearily assumed a fighting stance. The nearest vamp swung a pipe at her head. She ducked in time and managed to kick him in the ribs, but another vamp whipped his chain around her ankles and yanked her off her feet. She managed to roll to avoid having her skull crushed by another pipe, but it was very close. She cried out as she blocked more blows, her arms becoming bruised and battered as she struggled to free herself. Two of the vamps managed to grab her arms and pin her down while their leader straddled her. He licked his lips. “This is going to taste soooo sweet,” he growled. He had started to bend toward her neck when he stiffened. His eyes went wide with shock as he dusted, followed immediately by two more of the gang. Buffy looked up to see Spike, in full game face, turning on the remaining two vampires.
 
“If it isn’t the Slayer’s pet,” one of them snarled. “I heard you couldn’t fight any more.”
 
“Heard wrong, mate,” Spike said, squaring off against them. The fight was brutal, but short, and within a few minutes the last bit of dust fell to his feet. He shook off his game face and turned to the Slayer, who had remained on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. “Buffy? Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling beside her.
 
“No,” whispered Buffy. “I… I killed Xander. I got so angry and it was about nothing but I couldn’t stop myself and I killed him…” Her voice rose into a hysterical torrent of words.
 
“Buffy, stop!” cried Spike, shaking her by the shoulders. “You didn’t kill him. He’s going to be alright. You knocked him out, might have broken his jaw, but he’s not dead.”
 
Buffy looked up at him, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. “He’s… are you sure? He was bleeding and Anya said he was…”
 
Spike interrupted her again. “It was a scalp wound. They bleed like crazy. Anya was just freaking out. He’s not going to die, Buffy.”
 
Buffy was still shaking like a leaf. “Spike, I can’t control myself. I can’t stop the rage.”
 
“Shh, Slayer,” said Spike. He helped her to her feet and looked her over. Her arms were a mess, and she had a pretty good gash on one calf from the chain. “You need to get cleaned up, yeah?” He bent down to catch her gaze with his concerned blue eyes. She bit her lip and nodded. “Come with me, love. My crypt’s not far.”
 
Buffy allowed him to put his arm around her shoulders and gently lead her across Restfield to his crypt. She was unaware of how she had gotten there – her panicked run was a complete blur to her. Spike held the door for her as she stepped in, her arms wrapped around herself. Spike shut the door behind her and said, “Come downstairs, pet. Get you taken care of.” She followed him down the staircase into the darkness below. “Just a minute,” he said, as he pulled out his lighter and started lighting candles. Buffy’s eyes adjusted to the glow, then widened in amazement.
 
“I had no idea all this was down here,” she said. The room wasn’t tidy by any stretch of the imagination. But he had made it comfortable, and the soft candle light was warm and inviting.
 
“Been fixing it up,” he said shyly. He sat her down at the edge of the bed and went to get a wet washcloth from his makeshift bathroom. He rolled up her jeans and cleaned the gash on her leg, which turned out not to be as deep as he had originally thought. He tore up a towel to fashion into a bandage and tied it gently around her leg. Her arms were just bruised, but he found another cut at her temple. “Hold still, pet,” he murmured as he tenderly dabbed at it.
 
Buffy was baffled by his tenderness. When they had sex it had been quick, wild, almost brutal in its intensity. But here he was treating her as something precious and delicate. She didn’t think her own mother would have hands so gentle, so concerned in their ministrations. She focused on his face, running her eyes down his sharp cheekbones, his long nose, and those rich eyes. He noticed her staring and his hand fell away as he stared back, trying to read her expression. “Buffy?” he said uncertainly.
 
The rage only stops with him. Why? But even as her mind tried to figure it out, her hands were moving. They tenderly caressed his face and pulled him gently to her lips. Spike closed his eyes and reveled in the soft warmth of her hands, her mouth, her darting little tongue. The kiss lengthened and deepened as their hands began slowly exploring each other’s bodies. Their previous couplings had been so frantic that Buffy realized she hadn’t really noticed how sculpted his muscles were. His arms were so strong, his abs were rock-hard, and he moaned into the kiss as her hand grazed his bulging crotch. Spike fought with every fiber of his being to stay in control. Gonna make this good for her, even if I explode, he resolved.
 
He eased her down onto the bed, with one hand buried in her beautiful silken hair and another running slowly, tenderly down her body. He reached the edge of her shirt and slipped his hand under it, stroking each lace covered breast in turn, then pulling the shirt over her head and casting it aside. He deftly unhooked her bra and addressed her nipples, licking and sucking, nibbling and caressing until Buffy thought she would drown in the flood of her own arousal. Spike’s need was painful, but he took an unnecessary breath and continued working his way down her body. He swirled his tongue in her navel as he unfastened her jeans. He paused to slide the rest of her clothes carefully down her legs, mindful of her bandaged calf. There she lay, panting and golden, and the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Holy Christ, the anticipation is gonna kill me. But what a way to go.
 
Buffy’s body was vibrating with the sensations. He’s barely touched me and I’m ready to come. This man is an artist. Spike stood and began stripping, slowly pulling off his t-shirt and unbuckling his belt. He kicked off his boots and slid his jeans down, finally freeing his straining cock. Buffy stared appreciatively. Scratch that. He’s not an artist. He’s art itself. For the first time in days, the anger was almost a memory as desire washed it away like a flood.
 
Spike knelt on the floor and pulled her toward him, settling between her thighs. He spent endless minutes caressing her sex, pulling apart the labia to see her hidden depths, sliding in one finger slowly, slowly, until she was twisting and moaning on the bed. He finally bent and took her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it expertly while first one, then another finger joined the first in probing her wet quim. Her moans became nearly constant, overlaid with babbled, frantic pleading. “Spike, oh fuck Spike so good, oh God…” She arched her back and grabbed his hair with both hands, grinding herself madly into his delicious tongue and questing fingers. Finally, he curled his fingers one more time to hit her g-spot and she went over the edge, screaming his name over and over as she came.
 
“Inside me. Please. Now,” she begged. Spike couldn’t have held off another second if his unlife depended on it. He flowed up her body and into her depths, gasping at her heat. “Yes, my Slayer, my beautiful Slayer, so ready for me, so hot for me,” he chanted as he hooked her knees over his shoulders and thrust deep into her again and again. She moaned incoherently and squeezed her interior muscles, milking his cock for all it was worth. He wanted to fuck her all night long, but he was so pent up, so nearly insane with lust that he found himself unable to hold out for very long. The orgasm started building from his toes, from the tips of his hair, all his nerves and senses rushing headlong toward his cock. Finally he could bear it no longer and cried out, “Buffy, God, Buffy I love you!” as he shuddered and spasmed inside her.
 
Buffy’s eyes flew open. She watched him struggle for control as the orgasm subsided. What did he just say? He all but collapsed on top of her, his forehead sinking down to rest on her shoulder as he shook and vibrated with the aftershocks. Unconsciously her hands found the back of his head, stroking his hair as his body gradually stilled. “Spike, I need to breathe,” she said finally.
 
“Sorry, pet,” he said, closing his eyes and shuddering anew as he pulled out of her and shifted his weight to the side. Never experienced anything like that. Ever. He had had many women over the years. But this woman, this little slip of a thing with muscles like iron and a tongue like a whip, she was beyond anything he could have imagined. Her stamina, her strength, her unexpected moments of tenderness, the sheer mystery of how she came to be here, in his bed – his brain just couldn’t process any of this. Then with a sudden shock he realized what he had said. Did I just tell her I love her? Nervously he opened his eyes to meet hers.
 
“Did you mean that? What you said?” Buffy asked, in a voice barely audible even to a vampire.
 
Spike swallowed, carefully considering his options. In the end, he decided that he was probably screwed no matter what he said, and went with honesty. “Yes. I’m… in love with you. Been building up to it for a while, I guess.”
 
Buffy shook her head and started sitting up, moving away from him. “That’s…that’s not possible. You have no soul. You can’t love.”
 
“Who says? Loved Drusilla for a century. I was there, I think I’d remember.” Should have kept your bloody mouth shut, William.
 
“That couldn’t have been love. True love can’t happen without a soul.”
 
“What do you know about love?” he retorted. His brain seemed determined to join his cock in a conspiracy to get him killed, but he couldn’t seem to stop the words pouring out of his mouth. “Angel can’t love without a soul, but his soul didn’t stop him from leaving you, did it? Parker had a soul – was that love? When he used you and dumped you? Riley had a soul. Didn’t stop him from cheating on you with vampire whores!”
 
“Stop it!” Buffy yelled. She got up and backed away further, not wanting to hear any of this.
 
“What do you think love is? Huh?” Spike continued, getting angrier by the second at the girl’s pigheaded ignorance. “I cared for Dru in sickness and in health. I listened to her ravings, saved her fucking life a few times, took beatings from Angelus to shield her, came to this shithole town to try to heal her. If that isn’t love, what the hell is?”
 
Buffy shook her head over and over. “Everything I’ve read says demons can’t love. All the books…”
 
“Were written by watchers, who couldn’t bear the idea of their Slayer getting chummy with the prey,” he interrupted.
 
“You don’t love me,” Buffy spat out. “This isn’t love. This is sex, not love.”
 
“Love is not being able to sleep unless you’ve seen someone that day. Love is getting the shit kicked out of you by every demon in town because you’ve joined the White Hats. Love is staying in this godforsaken California nightmare to get abused by you, and the Scoobies, because the alternative is unthinkable!” Spike shouted, his emotions spilling out uncontrollably.
 
“What?” Buffy had gotten lost somewhere. “What alternative?”
 
“Never seeing you again,” Spike went on in a quieter voice. “I’d rather get dumped on by the entire population of Sunnyhell than leave and risk not seeing you again. Watching you fight. Listening to your ridiculous puns. Seeing you dance at the Bronze. The sex, that’s the icing on the cake. It’s the rest of you that moved the Slayer of Slayers to switch sides. That’s love. Whether you believe in it or not, that’s love.” They were both standing by this point, a foot apart, looking straight into each other’s eyes.
 
Buffy turned away and grabbed for her clothes. Spike just stood and watched as she viciously pulled them on. Then she turned back to him. “So you love me? What am I supposed to do about that? I can’t love another vampire. Not now. Not ever.”
 
“Can’t always control who you love, pet,” he said softly. His hand reached up to touch her hair, and ended up intercepting her customary punch in the nose. “No more of that, Slayer. Had quite enough of the blows to the face this week, thanks.”
 
“Fine,” Buffy said. Then she kneed him swiftly in the groin and stormed out, leaving Spike to collapse groaning on the floor.
 
TBC