A/N: Millions of thanks to Karyn for the gorgeous banner to go with the story! *Hugs Karyn*



What A Girl Wants

The battle raged around them, but they were the only two people in the world, as far as either of them were concerned.

Buffy looked at the bright light emanating from the jewel around Spike’s neck, fear electrifying her body. She only had one night, damn it. Only one night, in the thousands of nights she’d had with him, to show him how she felt about him, show him how she needed him. To let him know by touch and taste that she loved him, he was her all, and there would never be another for her. She didn’t say the words exactly; she really hadn’t even imagined that the two of them wouldn’t make it out alive. Now, with the sun shining down on him and the light pouring out of his chest, she wondered if that was wishful thinking.

She reached for him, and he put his hand out to keep her from touching him. He couldn’t…wouldn’t hope, not now, not ever. Hope was something that he couldn’t afford, not if he was going to save the world. Instead, she clasped his hand in her own, and flames engulfed their joined palms, rising incandescent from their fingers, lighting her face.

He’d always loved her face in candlelight, and now was no exception. Her eyes sparkled, and he looked at her, really looked, for the first time since their doomed relationship came to an end, there in the bathroom.

She tried to show him her love. It vibrated through every cell in her body, twisted every fiber of her being into knots of painful desire—not only to love him, but to save him. Save him from this—from himself—from the rejection she’d dished and dished, until rejection exploded in their faces.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried to keep them from spilling down her cheeks. She gripped his hand tightly, aware of the flames joining them, but feeling no heat from them. “I love you. I always have.”

He looked at her, sadness etched in his features. “No, you don’t. But thanks for sayin’ it.”

Rejection now. When she finally opened her heart and soul to him, finally let him inside her deepest, secret feelings, and he threw them back in her face. “I do love you, Spike. I do.”

He just looked at her sadly. “Go. Go now. I want to see how this ends.”

She closed her eyes, and refused to let go of his hand. He made her decision for her. He let go first, dropping her hand, and she reached to touch him again, to feel him again. Oh, for the chance to kiss him one more time….

“God, I wish that I could go back and change this—make you understand that I love you. I wish….”

She heard Faith calling her name from a great distance, and then there was a flash of golden light. She watched Spike burn, dissolve into dust, and then the blackness overtook her, and she saw no more.


She was the first to awaken in a darkened room, the streetlights outside the only light to penetrate the gloom. She looked around, and a memory struck her. A memory of this very room, this very place, and these people….

And Buffy knew. The Powers That Be had heard her, and granted her the wish. She knew the ending of the story as it was written. They had given her the power to change it—change everything, if she wanted. And she did. She wanted to change the end of the tale, never wanted to see Spike burn to ashes before her eyes. She moaned at the memory, and her moan seemed to rouse the others in the room.

Willow’s spell. Her mindwipe spell, the one that had affected them all. She needed to play along, and pretend she didn’t know who she was. Okay. Not hard.

She watched her friends and family going through the motions. She searched the room, found Spike lying on top of the counter, and could barely suppress a giggle when he rolled off the counter and onto the floor. Her eyes drank the sight of him hungrily as he jumped up and straightened his clothes. They dealt with Xander’s paranoia; they found their names, all except her.

“I think I’ll call myself Joan.”

Spike was searching for some identification, and looked inside the tweed jacket he was wearing. “If you’re my da, what did you bleeding name me. Randy? Randy Giles? Why didn’t you just call me Horny Giles, or desperate-for-a-shag Giles? I knew there was a reason I hated you!”

Buffy smiled, and a familiar sensation clenched deep in her gut. “You don’t have to be desperate for a shag. I’d shag you.”

The entire ensemble turned to stare at her. “What? Like you all know me. Randy might be my…boyfriend.”

Rupert stepped forward, concern furrowing his brow. “Do you remember something?”

Buffy started, remembering she wasn’t supposed to remember. “No. Nothing. I just…know that I…feel something…when Randy talked. No remembering.”

“I see. Perhaps you are Randy’s girlfriend, that’s why you’re here in the shop.”

Buffy listened to the by-play around her, and wondered how she would be able to get Spike alone.


It was only after the vampire attack that Buffy realized the perfect way to get Spike off by himself.

“They seem to be wanting to get their hands on Randy. We’ll run out the front of the shop and distract them, while you all escape through the tunnel in the back room.”

“Gotcha.” Xander led the girls to the basement, Giles and Anya prepared for the attack on the Magic Box, and Joan and Randy ran out the front door and through the kiss of vampires that had gathered in front of the shop.

She had to remember to be frightened when she saw his game face for the first time. She had to remind herself to run. Run away from him. It tore her heart to do it, but she had to. She couldn’t change things very much, she knew that. But this second chance—it was exactly what she needed.

She ran until she felt her heart would explode from the exertion. She could hear him right behind her, calling for her. When she finally had to stop to catch her breath, he was right there with her, on top of her, before she knew what had happened. She threw him onto the ground, and straddled him, forcing him to be still.

“You’re a vampire. Check the lumpies. And the teeth.”

She watched as realization dawned on him, and tried hard not to grind her pelvis into his. “Randy…shake it off.”

He shook his head, and his game face magically disappeared. “Now, let’s fight these vampires, and then maybe we can….”

She let the sentence hang between them, and he couldn’t help but smell the arousal perfuming the air. “I’m a vampire, and you still want to shag me?”

“I told you back in the shop. I remember…feelings for you. Maybe I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Maybe…it isn’t that big a deal.”

“Maybe I’m a noble vampire, helping the helpless, fighting for the weak.”

She tried not to scoff. “Yeah, and maybe I’m really Joan of Arc. Come on.” She climbed off of him, and extended her hand to help him up. Pulling a stake from her back pocket, another from her jacket, she tossed one to Spike. “Don’t mess with them. Just kill them. We’ll figure out the rest of it later.”

The vampires were on them then, and there was no more time for talking. They whirled and spun in a feral ballet, dust flying, and when all the vampires were gone, Joan stepped closer to the shark that had been calling them orders during the fight.

“You need to leave Randy alone now. Whatever debts he has with you, he’ll pay them. I suggest you scoot, before we find out what a stake does to a loanshark.”

As the shark moved quickly away, she grabbed Randy by the hand, knowing the end of the spell was nigh. “Come on. I want to be alone with you. Now.”

She ran like the wind through the streets, dodging cars and people alike, until they arrived at Restfield Cemetery. Instinct alone drove her to the crypt, his crypt, and they were inside, winded, panting for breath.

The door barely closed behind him when she was in his arms. She grabbed him, pulled him to her, and pressed her lips to his, feeling the magic of his kiss again.

He was trying so hard to be a gentleman, she knew. He tried not to allow her to strip him out of the strange looking suit, unsuccessfully so. He tried to talk sense to her, without succeeding. He stopped trying when she fell to her knees before him, unzipped his trousers, and took his cock in her mouth.

He was so cool, so hard, so familiar. She tried not to feel, and failed miserably. Her hand wrapped around him, her tongue laving his shaft from bottom to top in long swipes, and she watched his face until he threw his head back, groaning, and buried his fingers in her hair.

She opened her mouth wide, and took him all in, relaxing her throat and timing her breathing to her downstrokes. Her hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently in her soft palm, then stroking his inner thigh with her nails; she sensed the tension building in him, in his gut.

The magic pulled tight at them, and then broke, snapping him back to himself. Buffy relished the look that crossed his face, the utter shock and surprise at his cock buried in the Slayer’s face, her throat massaging its length as she cupped his ass in her hands to keep him from pulling out of her.

Buffy waited until he relaxed, then gripped him with one hand as she drew back to talk to him. “Is this what you really wanted, Spike? Is this your dream? To have the Slayer on her knees before you, sucking you, tasting you? Didn’t you tell me…” /was it just last night?/ “to suss out what I wanted, and stop tormenting you?” She smiled, and he squirmed. “Maybe I sussed out what I wanted. Maybe…I want this. Maybe you need to make me want this.”

She didn’t give him the chance to reply. She ran her tongue down a prominent vein, then back up to swirl around the spongy, velvety head. “Watch me, Spike. Watch the Slayer drive you complete bonkers while I suck your dick.”

She filled her mouth with saliva, then wetted his cock down from the top. Covering his head with her lips, she slid them slowly down his shaft, breathing shallowly as her nose nestled in his pubic hair. She swallowed, knowing her own strength, and he gasped aloud, eyes and mouth wide open.

Her hands—her hands were busy of themselves. She filled them with his asscheeks, firm and sculpted like all the rest of him. She teased his balls with her fingertips, scratching them lightly as they drew tight against the underside of his cock. She explored the loose skin behind his balls, knowing that she would have to taste it later. He moaned, arching his hips and clenching his cheeks.

She wrapped both hands around his cock, and it popped out of her mouth with a juicy sucking sound. Leaning down, she ran her tongue over his balls, sucking the loose skin into her mouth, then nipped at the loose skin behind them with blunt teeth. Her hands stroked him lightly as she crawled between his legs to draw his testicle into her mouth, sucking gently while she barely grazed the skin with her teeth. She repeated her actions on the other, and his knees buckled. She propped him up with her hand as she kneeled before him again, looking up into his face, slack with overstimulation.

“Spike,” she said, as she rolled her palm over the head of his cock. “What do you want to do now?”

He yanked her to her feet, and she found herself pressed hard against a very confused vampire.

“Buffy, what--?”

She put her finger over his lips, hushing him. “No, Spike, not now. Just go with me, baby. Go with me.” She replaced her finger with her mouth, and the passion ignited between them. She allowed it to flow through her this time, gave it permission to inflame her senses with the magic that was him and her and them together.

Her lips parted, and she waited impatiently for him to take the hint, then teased his mouth with her tongue. He finally noticed, and swept his tongue over her teeth, searching deep inside her mouth. She sucked his tongue like she’d sucked his cock, deep inside her mouth, massaging its length against her palate. He began purring, a deep rumble in his chest that tickled her nipples, and she had the overwhelming urge to feel him naked against her, cool and hard against her heated flesh.

She pushed him away, and saw pain flash through his expressive eyes, then understanding on its heels as she yanked her shirt over her head, tossing it to one side. She yanked her boots off, then her socks, and finally tore her pants down over her hips, breaking the side of her thong herself. She stood in front of him, naked and glorious in the dimly lighted crypt, and waited, tapping her foot.

He pulled off the poncy shirt, the tweed trousers that were barely hanging on his hips, toed off the shoes and socks, until he was as naked as she. A thrill rippled through her at the sight of him, sculpted alabaster and ivory, his cock proudly jutting in front of him, pearlescent dew on its very tip…her pussy contracted painfully, and she wanted to feel him, wanted him inside her now.

Reaching out, she traced her hand over his skin. Muscles knotted beneath flesh and her breath caught in her throat at his beauty. She couldn’t keep her hands off him, couldn’t stop touching him, and then she was kissing him again, all thought emptying from her mind.

“Spike, I want you.”

She knew he could smell her arousal—hell, she could smell her arousal. She advanced on him and he backed away, suspicion in his eyes.

“The Slayer doesn’t want me. She just wants to stake me.”

“Right now, buddy, the Slayer wants you to stake her.” Frustration furrowed her brow, and she backed him up to the other wall of the crypt. “Spike….”

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you just tell me yesterday that you were my willing slave?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Didn’t you just basically tell me to make up my mind about you, so you could either be with me or without me?”

“Yeah.” He dropped his head, staring at the floor. “Yeah, I did.”

“Didn’t you kiss me last night, like I was your last hope? Your lifeline? Your lover?”

“Yeah. And then you told me that a kiss didn’t mean anything. That’s what I don’t get. Why are you here now?”

Closing the distance between them, she pressed herself against him, peppering his face with kisses. “I’m here to tell you—I sussed it out—I want you—I want to know you—I want to make love with you—I love you, Spike. I love you.”

He made a choked sound, and she drew back far enough to see tears welling in his eyes. “No teasing, Buffy. I can’t stand it. I can’t.”

Her heart hurt inside her chest, seeing the utter torment she put him through. “I’m not teasing, Spike. Touch me. See if I’m teasing you.”

Of it’s own volition, his hand reached for her, grazing the upper slope of her breast, and she groaned, leaning into his caress. He grabbed a handful of hair, and pulled her back to look deep into her eyes, then crushed her mouth with his, plundering its depths with his tongue.

She gave over all control then, and he pushed her shoulders against the wall and pinned her there with his body, his hands skimming her bare skin and setting flames of desire through her. She grabbed a cornice to support herself, and he stood poised between her thighs, his cock brushing her sodden flesh.

She reached one hand between them to position him, then wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him forward with pressure from her heels. He slid into her, their bodies interlocking perfectly, her walls stretching to welcome every inch of him.

When he was in her fully, nudging the end of her passage, he stopped to allow her time to accommodate him. Pressing their foreheads together, he looked deep into her hazel eyes, then closed his eyes.

“Oh, Slayer, if you only knew what I really wanted, you would stake me on the spot.”

“First, I want you to call me Buffy. Or pet. Or love. Not Slayer. Second, I do know what you want. You want to be my mate. You want this to be permanent. You want my love. Don’t you?” His eyes flew open, and she found the courage to continue. “I told you—I love you, Spike. I. Love. You. Maybe I should have told you before now, but I didn’t. Love you, Spike.”

She ran her hands over his face, memorizing each curve, each plane. She touched his arms that held her tightly, supporting her weight, reveling in their strength. Then he began to move slowly, and she marveled at his control, when she felt she had none. There was a wondrous look in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe this was happening, and she held that look close, locked it in her heart for future times.

He moved slowly, almost gentle with her. She wanted more, and spurred him in the ass with her heels. His eyes widened, and he began to thrust more aggressively, bending his head to tease her nipple as it swayed seductively before him. She threw her head back, dragging air into her lungs, and he picked up the pace, grinding against her clit with every push into her and rubbing against her sweet spot with every withdraw from her. Her nerves knotted into corded ribbons of flame, and she started clenching her inner muscles around him, grasping him tightly and making it harder for him to move.

His mouth was on her neck, skimming over her flesh, and she knew without doubt what he needed. In the past, she had always denied him. She would never deny him again.

She whispered in his ear. “Spike—Spike—lover, I want you to fuck me hard. Make me yours. Ruin me for anyone else, because I don’t want anyone else to ever make me feel like you do. Fuck me, Spike, and when I start to come? I’m going to ask you to do something. Don’t question it. Just do it, okay? Just do it for me, baby. Please.”

He growled against her neck, “Anything Sl—Buffy. Anything for you.”

He slammed his hips against her now, pelvises crashing together, bruising flesh. She was close, so close, and she knew exactly what would send her over the top. She held his head where he’d been kissing her neck and the pulse beating wildly beneath her skin, and gritted, “Bite me, Spike. Fill me with fang and make me come, baby!”

She had a familiar tingle in her gut, and knew that he was in game face now. His fangs slipped into her as easily as his cock had, and she threw herself over the edge. She was suspended in time, her climax rippling from one end of her body to the other, and she lost herself in sensation. She could hear herself speaking, but lost all the meaning of the words as she came, over and over.

Without warning him, she reached her head down and gripped his scar between her teeth, tearing into him with her Slayer strength. Blood flowed freely into her mouth and down his chest, and she cringed at the ruin she’d made of his neck, but she still drew back to look him in the eye as she said, “Mine. My vampire. For now and always.”

That was when he dropped her. Her blood still on his mouth, he staggered back, clutching his chest. “Buffy!”

“Mine. You’re mine, Spike, until I loose you.” She looked at him, suddenly sad. “Don’t you want to be mine, Spike?”

He realized he had her blood on his tongue, and stepped forward, the Big Bad coming to the fore. His demon growled, “Mine.” Spike shook off his demon visage, and sat on the floor in the dirt, sobbing.

She rushed to him, kneeling at his side, and drew his head to her chest. “Spike, baby, don’t. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“You don’t understand, love. Nobody ever loved me enough to claim me. Dru didn’t love me enough to claim me.” He lifted his face to her, unashamed at the tears staining his cheeks. “You really do love me, don’t you?”

“Silly vampire, of course I do. Didn’t I tell you enough?”

“I’m yours, Buffy.”

“And I’m yours, Spike. As long as you want me.”




Is this the end of the story for our blonde duo? Will there be more? More love? More hot sex? More romance? Review today, and tell me—should I continue this saga? I’m waiting….




Challenge Rules
Name: redwulf50
Email: redwulf50@hotmail.com
Seasons: season 6
Challenge: 160
Post "Chosen," possibly even Post "NFA," Buffy somehow, (you decide how) is sent back in time to the episode "Tabula Rasa" in her younger body. She gets there just as Spike is doing the "Randy Giles" rant about why not just name me 'Desperate for shag’ Giles. Without thinking Future Buffy replies, "You don't have to be desperate, I'll shag you anytime." then go from there. PWP. ^_^