Chapter 18
 
Spike turned the car onto the drive of the run-down mansion on Crawford Street and parked neatly. Buffy opened the passenger door and looked up at the stark grey building with a discontented moue. The place didn’t exactly hold the happiest of memories for her. For Spike either, come to think of it.
 
Spike closed the driver’s door with a loud clunk. “Give me a couple of minutes, love?” He disappeared into the house in a swirl of black leather.
 
“Huh?” Slightly disappointed by his unromantic behaviour, Buffy got out of the car, stretched, and then shivered. In L.A. she had complained about the lack of air conditioning in Spike’s big old beast of a car. She shouldn’t have been surprised that there was no heating either.
 
She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, reclaimed her overnight bag from the back seat and followed her vampire.
 
Entering the huge, echoing building, she was suddenly hesitant. They had instantly reconnected emotionally and it was obvious that Spike was still attracted to her, but having Annie had made some changes to her body that she was still coming to terms with herself. She was suddenly anxious about how Spike would react. She could hear him moving around upstairs, but didn’t immediately follow him. Instead, she dumped her bag at the bottom of the stairs and walked further into the house.
 
In the great room, the big fireplace was alive with a cheery blaze and there was a big, thick-pile rug placed in the perfect position between it and a huge, comfortable-looking couch. The main overhead lights were dark, but a lamp on an end table added enough warm light to make the area around the fire in the chilly, cavernous space feel cosy.
 
Buffy knelt on the rug, holding her cold hands out to the flames. Very quickly she warmed up and shed her jacket, moving back from the heat.
 
She leant back against the couch and removed her boots and socks. Then she stretched out her legs, gave a contented sigh and gazed into the dancing flames while her toes defrosted.
 
“Warm enough, love?”
 
Buffy started. She hadn’t heard him coming. She raised her feet and wiggled her toes in demonstration as she smiled up at him. “Toasty.”
 
Spike had removed his duster, untucked his shirt and undone the buttons to reveal a pale strip of lickable chest. “The electricity and water are still hooked up from before, but vamps never bother with the heating. I didn’t fancy risking tampering with the gas supply to get the bloody boiler working, so this was the best I could do.”
 
“It’s fine, Spike. The fire is totally relaxing. Come sit down.” She patted the rug beside her.
 
“Don’t wanna relax. I had something a little more… energetic in mind.” He began to slink towards her, his eyes smouldering and his tongue curled behind his top teeth.
 
Buffy’s heart accelerated until it was thundering in her chest and her breathing quickened. She rolled to her feet and slowly backed away, smirking playfully. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
 
Spike chuckled. “Challenge accepted.”
 
Buffy stepped off the rug onto the cold stone floor and squeaked in surprise. In the second of her distraction, Spike darted forward and she barely avoided his grasp by grabbing the back of the couch and swinging around behind it. She ran on tip-toe in a full circle back onto the rug where she paused with relief. She’d intended to allow Spike to catch her eventually, but the soft rug was a far preferable location to the cold bare floor.
 
Arms like steel banded around her waist and chest from behind, clamping her arms to her sides. “Gotcha,” he breathed beside her ear.
 
She writhed, rubbing back against him. “Oh no!” she cried in a high, overdramatic tone, trying to hold in a giggle. “The Big Bad vampire has me in his evil clutches. Whatever is to become of me?”
 
“Gonna ravish you,” Spike growled, turning her in his arms. Their mouths met in a hungry kiss and Buffy struggled to free her arms so that she could touch him in return. Finally, his hold loosened and she wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on.
 
When she was forced to break the kiss so that she could gasp for breath, she shoved Spike’s shirt down his arms and ran her hands over his bare shoulders and chest. She was desperate to feel his cool, smooth skin.
 
He reciprocated by shrugging out of the sleeves and tugging her shirt over her head. He fumbled with the fastenings of her leather pants. “Bloody hell, woman! Are these things painted on? Why couldn’t you have worn a skirt? I like you in skirts.”
 
Buffy unbuckled Spike’s belt and ripped the fly open, the buttons flying off to clatter around the room. “Don’t pretend you don’t like watching my ass in these pants - and you can talk, ‘Mister my jeans are so tight everyone can see the size of my… uh, bulge’!”
 
Spike chuckled, then gave an impatient huff and muttered, “Bugger this for a game of soldiers.” He stopped trying to push her pants down past her hips and cradled her face in his hands. He pressed a kiss to her lips then gripped her by the waist - and Buffy suddenly found herself flying backwards through the air and landing softly, flat on her back on the rug.
 
“Spike? What?”
 
Spike toed off his boots and quickly shed his jeans. He stood between her legs, looking down on her with a predatory gaze. Buffy thought he looked more beautiful than one of those naked Greek marble statues. Even though he was whipcord lean, he still had muscles galore. Her eyes strayed downward and she licked her lips. A totally porntastic statue.
 
Suddenly he crouched, grabbed her feet and raised them over his shoulders. He then grasped the waistband of her pants and underwear and standing, peeled them up her legs.
 
He flung the inside-out garments away and dropped to his knees, snapped open the front fastener of her bra and flipped the cups to the sides. He murmured, “And there you are. My glorious slayer.”
 
He cupped a breast, flicking the distended nipple with his thumb. “Love the new boobs, pet. Motherhood has done you a favour.” He traced a prominent rib with one gentle finger. It tickled and she wriggled slightly. “Gonna have to feed you up, love. Damn that bloody interfering witch.”
 
When his fingers began tracing downwards from her ribs to her belly, she shyly tried to cover herself, but he batted her hands away.
 
She panicked, reached up and grasped his shoulders, pulling him down onto her, simultaneously spreading her legs wider and raising her knees to cradle him.
 
Supporting himself on his elbows either side of her, he claimed her mouth in a deep kiss while gently rocking, sliding his erection up and down her soaking crease.
 
By the time she was forced to come up for air, she was frantic for more. “God, Spike. Stop teasing me! I need you in me now!”
 
“As you wish, my lady.” Grinning smugly, Spike positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pushed into her.
 
Buffy felt long-unused muscles stretching and pulsing around his girth in a most delicious way. Her breathing hitched and her eyes closed as she relished the exquisite sensations that such a simple, natural process generated.
 
After what felt like hours, but must only have been seconds, Spike was fully buried within her and Buffy opened her eyes to see his face hovering over hers. His eyes were squinched closed and he was panting raggedly.
 
She stroked one hand down his back to hold him close and with the other, grabbed him by the back of his neck and drew him down into a deep soul kiss. “God, I’ve missed you. Missed this,” she murmured when their lips finally parted.
 
“I’d forgotten…” Spike gasped. “Never get over the heat…”
 
In an attempt to heighten the feeling of being filled to the limit, Buffy deliberately contracted her inner muscles around him, then relaxed and did it again.
 
That was when Spike lost it.
 
With a groan, he rocked back and thrust forcefully into her, making her yelp in surprise as she slid a couple of inches across the rug.
 
She panted, “Oh yeah…” and clung to his shoulders as he repeated the movement.
 
It wasn’t the romantic, gentle reconnection she’d anticipated. What it was, was wild and passionate and exciting, and as Spike pounded into her accompanied by the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and breathless moans and grunts, Buffy realised it was exactly what she needed.
 
She hung on to him tightly with arms and legs as the force of Spike’s thrusts gradually slid her further and further across the rug until her shoulder caught on the corner of the heavy couch. At last she had a solid enough purchase to be able to respond with her own demanding counter-thrusts, her hips rising to meet Spike’s at full power as she ground against his pelvis.
 
Unsurprisingly, after such a long wait and having set such a frantic pace, it wasn’t long until they both crashed over the edge into spectacular, noisy orgasms.
 
As she came down, Buffy lay splayed out gasping for breath with the comforting weight of Spike pressing her into the floor. “Oh Boy!” she finally panted.
 
After a few moments, Spike lifted his head from her shoulder and raised a hand to brush her hair from her sweaty brow. “Sorry love. I didn’t mean to… but when you did that thing…”
 
“I know. It’s fine.” Buffy giggled. “More than fine actually.” She struggled to take another breath. “Uh… this is great, but seriously needing to breathe here…”
 
With a grunt of protest, Spike drew out of her body and rolled to one side, allowing Buffy to take a long deep breath.
 
Lying on his side with his head propped up on one elbow, he gently ran a hand down her chest to her belly, and began tracing patterns in the slick sweat that covered her. She shivered, partly from the tickling sensation and partly from the rapidly cooling sweat.
 
After a minute, she recovered sufficiently to raise her head to watch what he was doing and cringed when she saw he was tracing the silver spider’s web of stretch marks marring her belly and the tops of her thighs. “Don’t…” She whispered uncertainly, reaching down to still his hand. “They’re ugly.”
 
“Are you totally daft? They’re as far from ugly as you can get!”
 
“But…”
 
“You don’t get it, do you, Buffy? They’re like… like a medal of honour. You should wear them with pride. They’re the symbol of the most wondrous gift that any woman can give her man. Uh, her vamp. You’ve taken my essence and from it created new life and nurtured it within your body. I still can’t believe…” He shook his head, his eyes looking suspiciously bright.
 
“Oh!” Buffy gulped and her own eyes teared up. “I… That’s beautiful. I never thought of it like that. I just thought…”
 
“Well, don’t.” He smirked and tapped her on the forehead with one finger. “You know, I read somewhere that too much thinking is bad for you.”
 
Buffy giggled. “Well, that explains a lot about you.” She shivered again and her skin broke out in goosebumps. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to hold in the warmth.
 
Spike frowned at the fire which had burned down to a deep red glow. “You’re cold. Come on slayer, got a way to fix that.” He clambered to his feet, grabbed her hand to pull her up after him and led her towards the stairs.
 
Again, Buffy squeaked when her bare feet met the cold floor and without breaking his stride, Spike caught her around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.
 
 
~*~*~*~
 
 
Spike took the stairs two and three at a time, ignoring Buffy’s laughing protests, and headed for the room he’d selected for them. Not one which had been used during the Angelus days, but rather one which had lain empty throughout. He’d cleaned it as well as he’d been able, aired it out and made the bed with fresh linens. He just hoped that Buffy would find it acceptable.
 
Just inside the door, he stopped, swung her down to stand on the edge of the area rug and pulled her back against his chest.
 
“Oh,” Buffy exclaimed softly.
 
Spike glanced around to check that all the pillar candles were still lit and that although the fire in the decorative little grate had burned down slightly, there were still enough flickering yellow flames to add warmth to the ambient lighting.
 
“Is it okay, Buffy?”
 
“Okay?” She twisted in his arms and raised a hand to cup his cheek. “It’s lovely. You did all this for me?”
 
He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. "Wanted tonight to be special."
 
“I’m with you. That’s special enough for me.” She turned back and gestured widely. “But this just makes it extra special.” She hunched her shoulders into a shiver and scurried across to the bed. “Time to get warm…”
 
Spike grinned smugly when she paused and exclaimed, “Oh! Pretty!”
 
She gathered some of the pink and red rose petals that he’d scattered over the coverlet, raised them to her nose to inhale their sweet fragrance and then let them fall again. With a happy sigh, she burrowed under the covers and holding up the corner of the comforter invitingly, reached a hand out to him. “What are you waiting for, honey?”
 
Spike didn’t need to be prompted twice. He closed the bedroom door and loped across the room to slide into the bed beside her and into her waiting arms.
 
They lay nose to nose, kissing and fondling each other as Buffy warmed up, all urgency gone from their love-making after their frantic, pressure-releasing coupling.
 
“Been thinking, love.”
 
“I thought you said that was bad for you?”
 
Spike snorted a laugh. “Yeah, well…” He was abruptly serious. “I’d been thinking we’d look for a small place. You know, just for us and the Bitlet. But that’s not going to suit, is it? I’m new to all this so I didn’t realise that she can’t be left alone when we patrol.”
 
“God, no. She’ll need a sitter.”
 
“Well, what I was thinking was; we should get a three bedroom place and ask the Turtledove to move in with us.”
 
“The Turtlewho, now?”
 
“The shy little Wicca. What’s her name?”
 
“Oh! You mean Tara!”
 
“She needs a place now that she’s left the bloody witch, and she’d be kinda like a resident sitter. The babe does get on okay with her, doesn’t she?”
 
“Yeah, Annie loves her. You’re so sweet. That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll have to ask her, but I can’t see her refusing.” After a minute she added, “Although… perhaps we could try for a four bedroom house? Do you think we’ll be able to afford that? Dawn is definitely gonna want to come stay over now and then.”
 
“Have to wait and see how much treasure there is, but you never know…”
 
The kissing and fondling continued for a while, gradually gathering passion until Buffy moaned, “O, God. Love you so much. Gonna have to start looking for somewhere now. Now I’ve remembered this… it’s gonna be hell spending nights apart.”
 
“God, yeah. Have to get working on finding that treasure soon then, love. I know where to start, but I’m gonna need all kinds of excavating equipment and some minions to help with the heavy work…”
 
Buffy grinned at him. “I guess you didn’t know, but Xander works in construction. I bet he could find us all the stuff we need—and why bother with minions you’d just have to kill afterwards, to keep the secret? Totally motivated super-strong slayer here. I bet we could work just as quickly without.”
 
She suddenly sat up in bed and looked around. “Where’s my jacket? I need my cell phone. It’s not too late to call Xander and tell him what we need and see if he can help. We could start with the digging tomorrow!” She grimaced and wriggled. “But first… I really need to pee.”
 
Spike chuckled and pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. “Bathroom’s over there, pet. Have at it.”
 
Buffy made a dash for the bathroom and Spike lay back with a sigh. He’d thought they would spend all weekend in bed, but perhaps that had been unrealistic of him. He had to admit that finding the treasure quickly would be good too. The sooner they could move in to their own place, the better he’d like it. They’d been apart for far too long already. He started making a mental list of the equipment he thought they’d need.
 
Buffy’s hesitant voice from the bathroom broke into his musings.
 
“Uh, Spike? Where’s the toilet paper?”