Disclaimer: Joss’ Buffy was a slayer. I made her a Vengeance Demon.

Author’s note: Many thanks to the fabulous Bloodytearsoflife for betaing!

Thanks to Opal, Chanel 5, Tasha, Wulfie and idk, for the fab reviews!
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Chapter 22: Bombs and Vampires

“Morgan’s going to blow up the building?“ asked Spike

Buffy smiled evilly. “Yep, Morgan, is going to blow up the building Spike, with you in it I might add.”

“Don’t you think, Christopher would call it amiss if he found out that you blew up papa?” inquired the vampire.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you bloody dare use Christopher against me! You don’t have that right!” she yelled, her voice echoing through the warehouse.

“Rixy!” chastised Morgan, trying to quiet his partner.

“No, there’s no one in here that would mind her caterwaulin’...” explained Spike.

“I do not caterwaul!” she protested, feeling very much like stomping her foot.

“Look!” shouted Morgan, standing up from his task with the explosive. “We have a job to do, there are Nazi’s probably alerted to our presence by the both of you yelling at each other and coming this way as you both caterwaul! Shut the fuck up or take your shouting outside!”

Buffy looked at the partner with just a little bit of fear. Morgan never raised his voice. But here was clear evidence to the contrary.

“How many vampires are here then?” asked Buffy returning to business and her normal tone of voice.

“Three,” Spike answered.

“Three? We’re blowing up a building for three vampires?” asked Buffy turning to Morgan.

“Yes, that’s what we agreed to do, Erixel.”

“Well it seems like a waste of resources. Can’t I just stake them and get it over with?”

“No!” shouted the two men, equally surprised that they shouted the same thing.

“What? You mean you don’t want to go up against another slayer Spike? Won against the last one didn’t you?” taunted Buffy.

“Ya, I bested a Slayer. I’m known for it. You aren’t a slayer, Buffy, you are out of practice and I’m not killin’ my son’s mother, no matter how much she bloody irritates me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I could so take you, you pompous moron.”

“Maybe, pet, but Christopher would never forgive you.”

Buffy knew he was right. And the truth was she would never be able to dust him. He was William and even after all this time, time that she had convinced herself that she wasn’t in love with him, she really still did.

So she punched him in the nose.

“Bloody hell!” His hands went up to his injured nose right away. “What’d you do that for?”

“What? You mean you didn’t deserve it?” she asked innocently. “How did you get captured anyway?”

The two secret agents looked at the vampire for a moment when he didn’t answer.

“You were drunk weren’t you?” Buffy finally answered for him, a smug smirk playing on her face.

“Might‘ve been,” he admitted finally, scuffing the ground with the tip of his shoe.

“Bombs’ ready,” declared Morgan, standing up from his work. “And set.”

Buffy nodded. “I’ll meet you back at HQ, alright?”

Morgan looked between the two former amours and nodded in understanding. William the Bloody wasn’t going to meet his doom in a warehouse. In a flash of light the warlock teleported away, leaving Buffy and Spike in the darkness, as the bomb ticked down the seconds.

“Where’s Drusilla?” asked Buffy.

“Got separated from her in Paris, suspect she’s still there, feasting on Nazis.”

“Christopher missed you,” she whispered into the darkness.

“Christopher is an old man, Buffy, he’s got kids himself now.”

“And those kids have kids and have moved to the four corners of the earth.” Buffy paused giving Spike a look like she was trying to figure him out. “Did you really see Christopher at school?”

Spike reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fag and his lighter. “Ya, I did,” he finally admitted, breathing out a puff of smoke. “Couldn’t very well see him when you lived in soddin’ Arashamahar. He’s my son Buffy. I couldn’t stay away forever.”

Suddenly, Buffy reached forward, grabbed Spike’s coat and pulled him towards her.

Across that sleepy German port, sirens blared as a highly secret warehouse was consumed in a ball of flame.
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“Put that out!” she shouted at him from beneath his hard body.

Buffy reached up and flung the cigarette across her bedroom. Casting her eyes back at the vampire that was covering her body with his as they lay on her bed, she was suddenly struck with the interesting trajectory of their portal entrance. Cocking her head to avoid his, she stared up at the stone ceiling of her lair. The tell tale burn marks of a portal were on the ceiling above her bed.

“That has never happened before...” she observed. “Why didn’t you tell me you saw him?” she asked pushing Spike off of her, and sitting up herself on the edge of her bed.

“Didn’t think it was your business,” he muttered, getting up.

“He’s my son, of course it’s my business. I spent his whole life keeping him safe!”

“And he’s past ready to take care of himself. He’s been doing a right excellent job for his sixty years.”

“I know. I’m his mother, I worry about him and all of them! And he won’t tell me where Henry and Isabella moved to.”

Spike sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. “He wouldn’t tell me either luv. It’s time you stopped trying to control everything and just live your life. Let him worry about his kids.”

With a sniff, she stood up from the bed, her emotions suddenly reined in. “I don’t have a life, Spike. I have my son’s life, I have vengeance and recently I have Morgan and what he does.”

Spike chuckled at that. “Morgan? Warlock boy got you hot to trot has he?”

“I don’t need to answer that question Spike. I don’t belong to you,” she replied with a hard glare.

“Like hell you don’t!” he protested getting up off the bed and closed the distance between them swiftly. “You are mine Buffy. You have my marks on your neck.”

Her hand slowly trailed to the marks he had left her before Christopher was born. “Yes, your marks are on my neck, but you didn’t claim me, Spike. You are mated to Drusilla. One mate, one claim Spike, that’s how it works. Dust till you part.”

“And just who told you that I’d mated with Dru?” he asked, the anger in his tone very apparent.

“Darla.”

Spike clenched his fist in rage, resisting the urge to take out his anger on the woman before him. “And she’s an authority on the love life of William the Bloody is she? I haven’t seen the bint since China.”

“You’re...You’re not mated to Dru?” she asked quietly.

“No, tried, she refused,” he explained in a defeated tone, going back to the bed. “I waited such a long time...after Angelus was gone, thought I’d given her plenty of time to get him out of her system...”

“She is still in love with her Daddy,” Buffy completed his sentence. “There are some women who just can’t bet past their first love, Spike.”

“You one of those, luv?” he asked, forcing her to look away with the intensity of his gaze.

“Not answering that Spike.”

“Why?”

“You already know the answer,” she whispered.

“And Morgan? How does he fit in to the equation? Just using him for sex? Isn’t that what Vengeance demons do?”

“I’m not Anyanka, Spike,” she noted as she sat down on the bed beside him.

“No, you are Erixel, the second most famous Vengeance Demon in the world. The mother of the Immortal’s child.”

“Oh he’s had a few more since Christopher’s birth. It’s too bad those children didn’t have super parents to keep them safe. I really wish that at least one of them would get old enough to wish him ill.”

“I thought you made the bugger sicker than a dog.”

“Yes but he didn’t die, stupid prat,” she cursed. “But one of our offspring will kill him. D’Hoffryn promised me.”

There was a long pause, as each other didn’t know what else to say.

“I miss this, talking to you. Why did it take us this long to find each other again?” she questioned, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Well, I’ve got the mayhem and the evil, and you’ve got...”

“Vengeance,” she nodded. “It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s all I’ve got,” he admitted in a sombre voice.

“Right.” Buffy stood from the bed and extended her hand. There was no point of dragging out this uncomfortable moment. “You ready to go back?”

“Where you gonna drop me?”

“Where I found you. Do you want to go back to Dru instead? I could manage that if you wish.”

“No wishes pet, you know that.”

Buffy nodded.

“Wanna go see Christopher,” he whispered grabbing her outstretched hand and standing from the edge of the bed.

“Really?”

“Haven’t seen him in years pet, got us a war on you know. Might be a good idea to check up on my property in town too, see how it faired in the bombing.”
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In the end, the two exited the portal into Spike’s London house, it was well after midnight. They had both agreed that there was no cause to wake Christopher, and decided to wait until morning.

The house was intact, more than Buffy expected.

“When was the last time you were here?” she asked, the dust on the tables and chairs more telling than anything else.

“Five or six years,” he responded absently, walking about the house looking over the various bits and bobs that decorated the house.

“Right, well, I’ll just leave you to your nostalgia,” she said, heading for the door.

“You don’t have to go,” replied Spike, his head looking up from a book he had been leafing through.

“Is there something to stay around for?” she asked, trying her hardest to keep the hope out of her voice.

“Might be.”

Buffy bowed her head, clenching her fists at her side. “Please, Spike don’t do that. Don’t dangle hope in front of me, only to pull it back again.”

“I haven’t seen Dru in two years, Buffy.”

“Uh...I’m sorry?” Buffy responded, sarcasm in full swing.

Spike left the book he had been flipping through and walked up to the vengeance demon with a smirk on his face. She just rolled her eyes.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” she questioned, her eyebrow raised.

“You’re here, I’m here, neither of us is tied down to anyone right now,” he whispered in her ear, his lips coming dangerously close to her skin. “Dru’s in Paris, and you cannot convince me that you slept with that Morgan fellow.”

“He’s Anyanka’s, not mine,” she finally admitted, cursing at herself for not following through with her plan.

“Glad to hear it, luv,” he murmured, his lips finding a spot behind her ear to kiss.

Buffy could feel her resolve melting under the light pressure of his kisses, as he travelled from behind her ear down her jaw line and towards her mouth. This felt good: it felt familiar and right.

And suddenly she wanted this. She didn’t care that she knew he would go back to Dru, ‘cause he always did that. She wanted this, she wanted to feel him, be with him, even just for a night. Once every sixty or so years was ok right? Her body seemed to think so.

Spike’s hands trailed down her arms and set about unbuttoning her wool jacket that matched ever so well with her skirt. She had no illusions about this. It was what they did.

A gasp left her lips as his cold fingers found their way past the waistband of her skirt and slip.

Yes, she had missed this. The way his lips felt on her skin, the way he made all the right spots tingle. Her own fingers found the opening of his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders revealing the tight shirt he was wearing beneath it. Their lips connected once more, this time Buffy sucked his tongue into her mouth, caressing it tenderly with her own. She pulled him even closer with her hands woven into his jet black hair.

Her skirt’s fastenings gave way to his nimble fingers, revealing the ivory slip she wore. The next to go was the slip itself. Followed by her blouse.

Spike took a step back for an appreciative glance. “Can’t say I miss the corset, luv,” he noted, his hands reaching for her bra encased breasts.

“That’s something we agree about,” she whispered, watching his hands make easy work of the bra clasp and pulling it from her body, leaving her clothed, in panties and heels.

It seemed to her that he was far too dressed for the occasion. With a flick of his wrist, the sheet that was covering the nearest couch was pulled off and Buffy suddenly found herself tossed up on it, and a vampire latched upon her right breast, his tongue making lazy circles around her nipple, one of his hands tracing the same motion on the other.

Her nipples puckered under his attentions, and she could feel just how much of a reaction he was getting from her body on the crotch of her panties.

His head rose for a moment as he very clearly sniffed the air and smiled. He bit down on her right breast hard enough to leave a mark with blunt human teeth before kissing down the length of her torso, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers. Slowly he drew them down and flung them to the side, parting her legs roughly.

His fingers found the bite mark that lay on the inside of one of her thighs. Leaning down, his tongue probed the mark tenderly.

Buffy found herself staring at the ceiling, hoping that he would bite her again.

Spike bit down gently with human teeth over his mark, his hands snaking up along her thighs, his thumbs coming to rest over her mound. One dipped lower and began rubbing her clit, sending a strangled moan into the still air of the house.

She tugged at his hair to get him to stop what he was doing. She didn’t need foreplay, she was wet and ready and Buffy needed him in her now, before she exploded.

He gave her weeping slit a long languorous lick on his way up her body, moving his hands from her thighs, to undo his trousers and pushing them down quickly before moving to position himself at her entrance.

The head of his cock bumped against her entrance unexpectedly, finally bringing her to take charge. She’d gone without for too long a time to be teased. Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him forward, his thick cock sinking into her wet folds.

“Oh D’Hoffryn,” she swore, at the ceiling, unable to put into words the wondrous feeling of his hard shaft filling her up.

“I’d rather you keep that pompous demon out of our shagging, Buffy,” groaned Spike, as he started pumping in and out of her slick channel.

“Shut up and fuck me, Spike,” she ordered, clenching her tight vaginal muscles around his embedded length.

His rhythm increased, his pelvic bone slapping against her clit in just the right way. With her ankles locked around his waist, she forced him deeper with each thrust, as if she wanted him in as far as he would go.

“God, I love it when you’re bossy,” he responded, nuzzling his face into her hair, inhaling her scent.

With a smile parting her lips, not other wise engaged in kisses, Buffy murmured something against his cheek. “Bite me, Spike.”

Before her eyes he shifted into his bumpy demonic visage, fangs at the ready. She tilted her neck waiting for the bite.

When he finally did slip his fangs into her waiting skin, just over his previous marks, she came hard and loud, screaming his name enough that he thought they might have been heard in the street. Her blood was sweet and tangy, not as yummy as it had been when she had been without her pendant and without her demon status, but he liked it just the same.

The after effects of her orgasm, her cum dripping along his pulsating shaft and the internal muscles clenching against his cock were almost enough to send him over the edge. He didn’t have a chance to let these things bring him off.

She bit him.

Spike roared in completion, his dead seed coating her fluttering insides.

Still intimately connected, his shaft softening slowly, he rolled off of her, forcing them to lay facing each other on their sides on the couch.

“You better not be tired, Mr Fairchilde,” she started, trailing her fingers down his T shirt clad chest. “You have sixty years to make up for, and if I’m going to get my heart broken tomorrow, I’m gonna need a lot of good sex to tide me over.”
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tbc...