Chapter 32

“She’s clomping up the stairs, should I make myself scarce so you can fight and fornicate. Or is it fornicate and fight? I can never tell with vamps.” Anya quickly began to pack her manicure box up and adjusted the hot pink toe separators and then waddled down the balcony with a small wave.

“Spike, be nice to her. I am tired of angst. It’s about time someone around here got some good orgasms.” She giggled and disappeared into her room.

“Seriously luv, you really are strange girl.” Spike laughed as he shook his head at the two fingers Anya waved at him as she disappeared into her suite. He reached over and scribbled a note for Buffy and then stuck it to the door.

He was filled with nerves. Trusting in the Poof was something that didn’t come easy, and he had to applaud Joyce for her subtle form of revenge on the broody nit. But it was a risky gamble. He was worried that whatever the schmuck had said might have her running for the hills.

But he trusted Joyce.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out onto the balcony and waited for her.

Buffy's determination to sort things out with Spike lasted as far as the top of the stairs. Fantastic! And typical. She froze at the sight of his suite door, realising that he was on the other side, waiting for her. The back of her neck began to tingle. His signature was ratcheting up, tiny tugs of arousal pulled at her stomach, making her entire body shiver. Her breasts swelled and her body hummed in anticipation of the reunion.

Taking a deep breath she gathered her courage and trotted to his door. Reaching for the handle she froze. There was piece of paper stuck to the door with her name on it. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the crisply folded paper.



Love,

I thought it’d be better we met somewhere else, to chat it all out…

Some how I can’t see ‘desperate for a shag’ would appreciate hearing you scream your brains out.

Follow your nose, Childe.

Yours Always,

William



Buffy's wavering spirit solidified and she took a deep breath, a broad smile pasted itself across her face. Clutching the note to her unbeating heart she sniffed the air; he was on the move. Running down the corridor parallel with her sire as he strode along the balcony, she smirked. The thrill of the chase was building within her, then suddenly his scent shifted and disappeared. Buffy frowned and extended her senses; he'd leapt down and was waiting on the sidewalk for her. She stopped briefly to hide the book Angel had given her in her rucksack and lovingly tucked his note in between the pages.

"Buffy?" Dawn's sleepy voice startled her.

Buffy peeked over at her sister, who was curled up next to their mom. "Shh. Go back to sleep, Dawnie. It's okay." She straightened and shot a small smile at her sleepy sister. Pulling out her leather skirt and a tank top, the diminutive Slayer wriggled into her clothes and then zipped up her black patent leather high-heeled boots.

"Here." Dawn appeared next to her sister and handed her some lip-gloss. Buffy quickly applied it as her sister brushed the knots out of her hair. "Do you want it up or down?" Dawn asked as she ran her fingers through the long locks. "I vote for down. You know how he loves your hair." Dawn smiled, proud of herself for not feeling the weeniest bit jealous over Spike and her sister.

"What do you think, Dawnie?" Buffy asked quietly, stunned that her usually hormonal sister was acting calmly and helping her out.

Dawn fluffed the blonde curls with her hands. "Down. It looks cute like this." She slipped a thin baby pink ribbon around Buffy's head and tied it in a small bow at the nape of her neck. "They’re pretty yet functional." She reached over and pulled a few wisps free to frame her sister's heart-shaped face. "Now Buffy, don't mess this up. Everyone has been working overtime to get you guys back together."

Buffy stared into her baby sister's big blue eyes and then gave her slightly taller sibling a quick hug. "I won't. Love you, Dawnie."

"Pish...now go get your vamp." Dawn pushed Buffy towards the French windows that lead to the balcony.

She disappeared out through the open doors and onto the balcony, her hazel eyes scanning the darkened street for a flash of platinum blond hair. She let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a meep, when in the distance she saw her sire striding towards a derelict building, dragging what looked like a mattress with him.

Swinging herself over the railing, Buffy leapt after him.

**********

Angel surged into Darla wetness; his hips moved jack rabbit fast, pumping away as fast as his body could move. He was entirely and selfishly focussed only on his own satisfaction. He held her hands above her head with one of his meaty fists, the other hand wrapped around Darla's throat, giving it a squeeze every time she tried to speak.

"Don't speak," he growled as his hips hammered into her over and over. He didn't want her squeaky voice shattering the illusion that he was making love with Buffy. Slamming his eyes shut, Angel's mind was filled with images of Buffy. He moaned happily and felt his cock twitch in excitement.

Darla growled at Angel and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. She'd forgotten what a sloppy lover he was, when he was actually conscious and not in a drug induced passion. She flexed her internal muscles experimentally, trying to get some sensation from his less than impressive erection. 'I miss the Master...' she pondered wistfully, recalling the long days and nights of ultimate pleasure with her sire, his large cock filling her unlike any other.

Gritting her teeth, the small blonde rubbed her breasts against Angel's chest, hoping for some kind of stimulation. She was very...very disappointed in her childe. Angel had forgotten all her lessons in how to take care of a woman. Sighing, Darla turned her head and stared at the door, her soft breasts juddering in time to Angel's thrusts and wondered where Dru was. She sighed. At least Dru knew how to take care of her needs. The silent vampire raised her legs. Peering over Angel's hulking shoulder she examined her toenails. Eyeing her chipped big toenail, Darla pondered whether she'd have time to get a pedicure soon.

Angel kept the image of Buffy in his mind, trying to pretend that the woman's body below him wasn't his sire's but instead his lost love's. He knew that this was the only way he'd be free, if he achieved ultimate happiness.

Darla bit her lip to stop herself from groaning in pain; she was starting to get lino burn on her ass cheeks from the speed in which Angel was pumping into her. She wished he'd get his happy and ditch the goddamned soul. Then she would chain Angelus up and remind him that his satisfaction came second to hers.Also she wanted to retrain him in the art of sex and remind him where her clit was.

*********

Buffy landed lightly on the balls of her feet and then sprinted off in the direction she had last seen Spike heading. Her golden hair streaming behind her as she ran towards the building he had disappeared into.

Sliding to a halt she swung through the door and slammed it shut behind her. Vamping out, Buffy scanned the room. It was a crumbling mess, plaster missing from the walls and the floorboards where gaping here and there. Her lavender coloured eyes easily picked out the safest route to traverse the floor. Tiptoeing carefully over the holes, she moved to the centre of the ground floor of the dust filled building. Extending her senses she tried to pinpoint the location of her sire.

"Spike?" Her whispered call shattered the peace of the building. "Where are you?" Buffy called out, inhaled a mouth full of dust and sneezed loudly.

"Well...what a pretty lil' morsel. Have you been a good girl and listened too your Elders?" Spike's voiced echoed from the gallery that ran along the end of the massive room. His loud voice disturbed some pigeons from their rest. They flew up and out of a large hole in the roof, their wings flapping loudly as the squawked their disapproval for being disturbed.

"Spike?" She turned to face the direction his rough voice had come from. But he wasn't there.

"Well, little girl?"

Buffy spun to her left, her eyes peering into the gloom, trying to locate him. She could sense his anger at being forced to wait. Forced to leave everything in his cack-handed grandsire's hands. He was a vamp of action and deeds and to be forced to wait must have been agony.

"Spike, quit playing. We need to talk." She growled and stomped her foot. She was starting to worry. He was playing some weird ass game with her and she didn't get it.

"Never been one for games when it came to matters of the heart, love." His disembodied voice echoed around her. It was filled with a poignancy that filled Buffy's eyes with tears. He sounded so insecure and hurt, and it was her fault that pain was in his voice. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and tried to stop herself from sobbing out loud. She'd done this to him, with her pushy ‘bite now, ask questions later.’

"Here now, none of that sweetness," Spike whispered. He appeared at the broken railing of the gallery and stared down at his weeping childe. He leapt down onto the top of the crates that he'd climbed earlier, and with a series of loose-limbed jumps he began to leap from box to box, making his way down to her. His duster flared up dramatically with the impact of his doc-clad feet on the boxes. Rolling his shoulders, Spike slinked his way towards her.

Buffy stood immobile, unsure as to what to do. She clutched her arms around her waist, steadying herself in the maelstrom of emotions that were buffeting her. She was confused and lonely. The talk with Angel was still fresh in her mind and despite her bravado, she was confused about Spike. Also, the book had filled her mind with images of raw sex, blood and biting and her demon was pushing at her to let it come out and play. But after her last attempt she was feeling inhibited, worried that she'd get it wrong again and Spike would leave her, just like every man she loved or was intimate with.

"Open those pretty peepers of yours, pet." Spike's hand cupped her stubborn little chin and tipped her head back. His azure eyes searched her scrunched up face worriedly. "Come on, love," he cajoled when she screwed her eyes shut even more. If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation he would be smiling at her antics.

Buffy shook her head.

"Look at me." Spike rubbed her thumb over her lower lip, trying to coax her out from hiding.

"Spike, just wait, lemme say this," Buffy muttered.

Spike stepped away from her frozen form; his hand cupped her cheek briefly and then he crossed his arms. "Right then."

Buffy peeked out from under her lashes at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered dejectedly. "I messed it up...I messed everything up. I'm so sorry. I was wrong to try and do the, you know, it was a big mistake." She gestured to his neck.

Spike's stomached dropped at her words; she was sorry she'd tried. Thought it was all a mistake. He ground his teeth together, his actions causing his cheekbones to sit out in relief against his pale skin. "Right...well, I'll be off then." He whirled to leave only to be stopped by a small tug on his elbow.

Buffy's fingers latched onto the worn leather and clung on with all her might. "Don't …I love you, Spike...Please, god, don't break me by leaving…I co...co...couldn't cope. I love you with all my soul, Spike." Her stomach dropped and she began to shake. There, she'd finally said it. Laid herself open to him. She gulped hard, trying to dislodge her heart, which had leapt into her throat with her stuttered admission. Buffy firmed her lower lip into a determine pout and waited for a bolt of lightning or a plague of locusts to descend on her. She'd admitted to loving him and now she knew there'd be a backlash.

Spike froze in place at her panicked admission. He could feel her fingers gripping desperately at his elbow. He could scent her fear at his leaving her, it was pouring off her small frame in waves. His eyes flickered amber at the taste of her fear. But something overrode the demon within. His inner William surged to the fore. She had done what no other woman in his life and un-life had ever done. Declared her absolute love for him. Spike, William the Bloody awful poet was loved! He wanted to howl it to the moon.

The light of his unlife loved him, no one else, just him. He wasn't second best in her estimations, unlike his sire. Buffy the Vampire Slayer loved him, one quarter of the Scourge of Europe. Buffy's impassion plea loosened the coil of despair and doubt that was wound tight around his heart.

There was a harsh grating noise as he turned on his heel to face her.

Spike's face filled with hope. "What did you say, love?" His hands fisted in the pockets of his duster. If he could've, he would be sweating bullets as he waited for her sweet mouth to say the words again. Spike cocked his head to one side and waited anxiously-- he needed to see her as she said it. His heart was too battered; the eternal optimist within him was huddled under his metaphorical duster and shivering. Beaten down by Cecily, Dru, Angelus and his childe.

Buffy remembered something Whistler had mentioned, something about the big moments and not being able to help them, but it was what came after that was what counted. She took a breath. This was a big moment and it was one that she could help, and also what came afterwards would be momentous if they allowed themselves to be happy.

She reached over and pulled his fisted hands out of his pockets and brought them to her lips. Brushing soft kisses over them she kept eye contact with him.

Spike stared down at her as she kissed his knuckles. Tension slowly seeping out of his body with each brush of her soft lips: the confusion, hurt and anger slowly was replaced with hope, happiness and love.

She pulled away from his now lax hands and pressed them to her heart. Spike leaned in as Buffy’s pouting lips opened, his eyes riveted to their pink plumpness. If his heart could beat it would be bursting out of his chest.

This was it.

He stared at her soft lips as they began to move.

*****

"Yes…Yes…uhhhh." Angel bellowed as he spilled himself into Darla's frustrated depths. With a goofy smile he slumped onto her small form and began to snore.

"Angelus...get off me!" Darla gasped as she wriggled out from under him, not
even noticing when his limp cock slipped out from her.

She shoved him onto his side and eyed his snoring face with contempt. "Hope this worked, I am not doing that again," she muttered sulkily as her fingers trailed down to her cleft and began to rub her clit.

Angel snorted in his sleep and rolled onto his back and stretched out, one hand scratching at his stomach as a small river of drool escaped his mouth and ran down his cheek.

Darla wrinkled her nose and rolled onto her side, firmly placing her back to the lump slumped beside her. She rubbed her fingers furiously over her nubbin and finally sighed in release.

Flipping over onto her back, Darla propped herself up on her elbows, watching and waiting for her darling boy to come back to her.

It was about time. She was bored with the do-gooder with the whiney soul. She wanted her restored childe at her side when she and Dru tortured the turned Slayer before dusting her. She had been practising on minions trying to work out how long a vamp could be hurt before it dusted.

And she had learnt one thing.

Buffy would be screaming for a very long time before she died.