A/N: Yes, I know, another long wait... Sorries and thanks to those still following! And thank you to whoever gave me the Fang Fetish Noms! ::Blows kisses::

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Buffy’s blood was boiling as she stalked back out of the sewers. It was the sort of state that was not healthy for someone of her nature to be in, since it distracted greatly from her senses. But her mind whirled with what she’d seen.

The Gustuuks had been organized in a way that showed serious planning. She’d hidden in a nearby tunnel and listened in on their fearless laughter as they discussed her and her father’s demise.

There had been too many to take on alone, never mind her magickal or Slayer abilities. So bitterly she'd headed back to her Nissan.

It was because of her whirling mind that what happened next came so unexpectedly.

She was slammed suddenly against the wall with brute force, and felt the bricks scrap her back through her thin jacket.

“Going somewhere, Slayer?”

Even before he spoke she knew who it was, could smell his musky scent tinted by the faint smell of smoke. She felt heat rise, tampered only by guilt for her earlier behavior and quickly squashed by misdirected rage.

“Get off me, Spike!”

“Now, now, pet. We have issues, you and I.”

“None that I wanna talk about. Now get the fuck off of me!”

“I’m thinking not. Need to get a few things straight first, I’m thinking.” His knee wedged between her legs, forcing her up the brick until her feet dangled in the air.

“Spike!”

“I’d shut up if I were you, Slayer.”

His hands were rough beneath her shirt. Part of her rebelled against the touch, the Slayer in her balking at anyone taking the bit. But the woman in her, that part of her was traitorous as his skilled fingers spanned up her ribcage, wrists forcing her shirt up as his touch rode higher.

"This isn't a game, Slayer. I tasted you."

His mouth was wet on her throat as he traced where his mark had been.

"You may have erased the evidence with your witchy ways, pet, but your flesh knows me."

And it was true. Against her will, her body throbbed to life, shivering as goosebumps puckered up her skin. He bit down on her with blunt teeth, and she gasped.

"I'm not gonna be any man's play thing," she managed, trying to keep her head above the lust.

"It's a good thing I'm not a man, then."

Spike dropped her suddenly, a hand snaking out to open her pants.

Her jeans and panties were forced down to her ankles. Spike lifted her against the wall again and stepped through her pant-bound legs, pressing his jean-clad self against the most tender of flesh.
Despite the roughness, Buffy found herself aroused beyond measure.

He used his left hand to pop the button of his own jeans. The zipper made a metallic hiss as he tugged it down and freed his straining erection. He slid it against her, over and over, until he was slick with her and she was beyond reason.

Spike parted her hard, sinking deep enough to touch the womb. Buffy cried out, sank teeth into her bottom lip as she watched Spike’s face contort in a sneer.

Cool flesh, sliding in, stretching her until it was almost too much. She writhed, pinned mercilessly to the wall. Spike’s leather coat covered her naked knees and flapped over her bare skin with every thrust. It was a symphony of sensations, tangent after tangent as he took her to new peaks.

And his eyes, they held hers captive, ruthless, unblinking blue. Even as her thoughts grew soft and vague and her mind knew only the ecstasy of his touch, his eyes claimed her attention, refusing to let her hide in her pleasure. They knew her, parted power and walls and saw naked soul.

She twisted her head sideways as rapture finally came, her cheek rubbing against rough brick. She felt Spike falling with her, and his head bent fast to her exposed neck.

His lips were bruising, parting over her flesh as fangs extended and pierced deep. She gasped, another orgasm bowing her back as he drank deep.

He was growling against her flesh. Her hands cupped the back of his neck, holding him closer, body rocking with each pull.

It was slow, coming down, but he stayed at her throat, the pull growing softer, sluggish, but still steady.

“Spike,” she whispered as she grew weaker, her hands shaking as they dropped from his neck to clutch at his shoulders in protest.

“Gods!” He pulled back finally, and she looked into his demon face, watched yellow eyes slide to blue and demonic visage fall away to reveal the mask of a man.

“Scared, Slayer?” he asked as she stared at him with dull eyes.

“Too much.” She felt herself fading, and panic rose in her.

“Ah yes. Perhaps I’ve been a bit greedy, pet. Perhaps my demon was just a bit affronted by that little power tantrum you put on earlier. Maybe he wanted to prove himself a man, he did.”

Buffy was quiet, the words slipping into her dulled brain.

Spike felt his bitter smile slip as he saw her considering his words, watched fear and understanding wash over her pale face right before her eyes fell shut. He was lost to the curve of her cheek, and brushed it with his knuckles as his anger receded.

He zipped himself back up, then slid out from between her legs, bending down to pull up her jeans and panties. She made a half protest as he swung her up into his arms and made his way to his car. But his touch was gentle and it calmed her.

“Sorries,” she mumbled as he set her gently into the passenger seat. Her lips brushed his cheek as he leaned down to fasten her seatbelt. The soft touch sent a wave of almost human emotion through him.

“You’ll do alright, pet.” He smoothed his rough hand down her blond hair, the calluses in his palm catching on several strands. Lifting his hand, the strands came with it, stretched in a glimmering line from head to hand.

He tugged gently and the strands fell back to place, as if they’d never been disturbed. He closed the door just as gently and walked around to the driver’s side.

The car started up with a deep purr, and Spike looked at Buffy’s pale, now sleeping form. He almost felt guilty for having drained her so much, but he knew that she’d needed to learn the lesson from someone. And he rather that it be him, since he knew he’d pull back.

He let out a long sigh.

“Shouldn’t poke caged tigers with sticks, love.”

He put the car into drive and left the alley behind them.


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Coming soon! Chapter 17: Split Loyalties ...