FOR MEGAN - HAPPY NEW YEAR!


Part IV

By the time Spike wandered back into the living room, the atmosphere was much more relaxed; so much so that he felt comfortable walking over to Buffy’s chair and sitting at her feet. It was clear from the expression on Xander’s face that, while his own feelings had obviously not changed, he had lost any ability to get anyone to agree with him and he did not say anything when Buffy rested her hand on Spike’s head briefly as she thanked him for doing the dishes.

As the guests began stirring restlessly and talking about getting home, the vampire stood up and walked over to the coat he had carried in from the kitchen. He took out his cigarettes and said casually, “I’m just going to slip out the back for a fag, so I’ll say ‘good-night’ now. I want to thank you for allowing me to share your holiday.” He surprised them all by adding sincerely. “I appreciate it.”

Xander stood up and glared a challenge at the vampire. “We’re all leaving now, Spike. You might want to think about smoking that cigarette while you walk back to your crypt.” There was no mistaking his intent when he stared meaningfully at the front door.

Spike took a quick look at Buffy to see if she wanted him to leave and come back later. He assumed she would want to stay home with her sister another night, rather than come to his crypt, but to his surprise and disappointment, she stood up also and handed him his coat. He took it from her in silence, trying not to see the flash of triumph in the brown eyes watching them so closely as Buffy walked with him to the front hallway.

Her eyes were twinkling with mischief as they stopped under the mistletoe ball.

“Oh look, Spike,” she said in her blondest voice. “We’re standing under that ball of mistletoe we put up last night. That means you have to kiss me.”

Spike’s answer was lost as Anya glared at the decoration and huffed, “I don’t know how that Druid plant became something to kiss under. Do you people have any idea what they used to use it for?”

“Uh, no, and I’m pretty sure we don’t want to, Anya.” Xander tried to head off a story that might ruin mistletoe forever for the whole group.

“But, it’s interesting. And people should know what they’re–“

“And on that note, I think we’ll say ‘good-night’,” he said quickly, pulling Anya out the door and on to the porch.

In spite of the flurry of “Merry Christmases" that followed them, there were none of the usual hugs as Xander pulled the still-protesting ex-demon towards the car. In his haste to get his girl friend out of there before she could remind everyone that she was, in fact, an ex-vengeance demon and had probably killed many times over the number of people Spike had in his pre-chipped days, he forgot that he was leaving the vampire in the house.

At the last second, Tara ran after him to ask for a ride back to her apartment, leaving Willow to gaze wistfully after her. Vampire, Slayer and witch stood with the thousands-of-years-old-Key and waved as the car pulled out of the driveway and drove off into the night.

Everyone except Spike stepped back into the house, leaving the vampire standing on the porch by himself. Buffy turned as she realized he wasn’t behind her and looked at him curiously.

“Are you going to have your cigarette out here instead of on the back porch?” she asked with a slight frown.

“I thought I was leaving,” he answered calmly, gesturing to his coat.

“Oh.” The disappointment was clear on her face. “Well, if you want to…”

“You handed me the coat, love. I’m just trying to follow the plan.”

“I was just trying to bug Xander,” she admitted. “I thought we’d kiss under the mistletoe and when he made a big deal of it I could say I didn’t trust him not to stake you, so you had to stay here. Anya kind of spoiled my plan,” she pouted.

“We can still kiss under the mistletoe,” he said softly, reentering the house and closing the door behind him. “Can stand here and kiss the whole bloody night if that’s what you want.”

“I kinda had other plans for the rest of the night,” she murmured, lifting her face to his. “Much better plans…”

Dawn’s “Get a room!” reminded them that they were not alone with the mistletoe this night, and they broke apart reluctantly, turning to face her and an embarrassed Willow.

“I think we will,” she said, blushing. She looked at her sister’s happy face and her friend’s concerned one and added, “I was planning to go home with Spike tonight anyway. I’d much rather not have to sneak out.”

“Buffy, I understand that you and Spike are closer than I realized, but are you sure you’re ready for—“

Buffy looked her friend in the eye and said quietly, “I’ve been sleeping with Spike for a couple of months, Willow. I’m not jumping into anything. I’m just bringing it out in the open.”

“So when you said earlier that Spike makes you happy, you meant he REALLY makes you….” Willow couldn’t finish her sentence when she caught the vampire’s smirk at her embarrassment. With a red face, she quickly amended for Dawn’s benefit, “You meant you want to spend as much time with him as possible and that’s why you are going home with him.”

Dawn rolled her eyes and started up to her room. Her voice carried down the stairs as she disappeared from view, “I’m not twelve, you know! I know what a ‘happy’ is!”

“You’d bloody well better not!”

Spike’s roar startled both Buffy and Willow, not to mention sending Dawn scurrying into her bedroom in a very undignified fashion. When Buffy had recovered she asked him with a smile, “When are you going to admit that Dawn is old enough to be thinking about boys and sex?”

“When she’s thirty. Maybe.” He was clearly not amused at the way Willow and Buffy were laughing at him.

“She’s not a whole lot younger than I was when you first came to town. And I was already dating Angel.”

“And look how well that worked out,” he growled, unhappy about the reminder of his grandsire’s claim on her affections.

“I think it worked out pretty well in some ways,” she whispered, sliding her arms around his waist. “It gave us a reason to stop trying to kill each other and form that truce.”

“I guess it did at that,” he agreed, pulling her in even closer and dipping his head down to nibble on her lower lip. Neither one actually noticed when Willow said a quick “good-night” and ran up the stairs.

“So, you’re coming home with me tonight?” he said hopefully. “Is that what you said?”

“That, or you could stay here. With me, in my room, in my bed,” she murmured, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

“And the advantage of that would be…?”

“It’s not very far away. We could be in bed in a few minutes instead of walking all the way to your crypt.”

“Definitely has a lot to recommend it, then,” he agreed as he slid his hands under her sweater to stroke the warm skin on her back. Her own hands were busy unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it out of his pants so that she could tickle his flat stomach.

“On the other hand,” he said, pulling away from her mouth with groan, “there are no little sisters or friends a thin wall away when we’re in my bedroom. Nobody to hear us but the dead.”

“Also a good point,” she said with sigh. “Help me close up the house, then, and I’ll race you there.”

They reluctantly separated and went in different directions, turning off lights and locking doors and windows. When things were closed up to Buffy’s satisfaction, she grabbed a coat and followed Spike out the front door. Rather than the race that she had joked about, they strolled through the quiet streets, their hands clasped together and swinging loosely between them.

They reached Restfield Cemetery without encountering another being – alive or undead. Unlike Buffy’s usual entrance to his home, this time Spike opened the door and held it for her as she went in, ducking under his arm with a soft smile. He jumped down to the lower level and turned around, holding up his arms to her.

“Come to me, love,” he breathed reverently. “I won’t let you fall.”

“I know you won’t,” she whispered back as she stepped fearlessly off the top run of the ladder and dropped into his waiting arms. “I know you won’t.’

She could feel the vampire trembling as he held her to his chest, his nose buried in her hair, his mouth moving across her neck with soft kisses.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t you want to unwrap your present?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he growled, responding immediately to her playful tone.

His hands went to the hem of her sweater and he started to pull it up slowly.

“Be careful with my good clothes, okay?” she said anxiously, remembering how often he became impatient and ripped things off of her. If she was honest, she would admit that she had inflicted her own damage on his wardrobe as well, but she had no intention of ruining his nice shirt or good pants. She was gratified to find that the thinner dress pants gave her a much better feel for his growing erection as it pressed into her stomach and she couldn’t resist giving it a little squeeze.

“Don’t worry, pet,” he answered with a small gasp. “Don’t plan to rush anything tonight. I want to make love to you for the rest of the night and I’m not going to spoil it by ripping your fancy clothes and getting you brassed off at me.”

He slowly pulled the sweater over her head, pausing to kiss her stomach and breasts as they came into view. When it was off, he carefully folded it and put it on the dresser before turning his attention back to the girl waiting for him. Before he could remove any more of her clothing, she began to unbutton the shirt that she’d started on before leaving her house. It was quickly done and she slid it off his arms, running her hands over his biceps as she did so.

He made quick work of her lacy bra, unfastening it and tossing it aside with his usual abandon. He took the time to kiss each small breast, pulling the nipples into his mouth and smiling at the way she arched into him, small whimpers of appreciation coming from her throat.

When her hands reached for his belt and she began to pull it off, he searched for and found the fastening on her skirt, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. The two zippers made matching sounds as Buffy’s hand tugged on his pants at the same time, and they shared a small laugh at the synchronicity.

Spike’s pants dropped to the floor and he toed off his shoes before stepping out of them. As always, he was unencumbered by underwear and his desire for her was plain to see. Buffy stepped out of the skirt puddled at her feet, clad only in a scrap of red lace that matched her already discarded bra.

“Beautiful,” the vampire breathed, taking her hand and leading her to the bed. He pulled her down on top of him, his hands stroking the silky skin of her back while he buried his nose in her neck and continued to praise her beauty and its effect on him.

He hooked his thumbs in her lacy panties and pulled them down as far as he could without removing his mouth from neck, allowing her to squirm on top of him until she could push them the rest of the way down.

“Knew there was a good reason I usually rip those things off,” he growled impatiently.

Buffy giggled and pulled away from him to sit on his thighs. When he reached for her she shook her head, saying, “We have all night now. You don’t need to take your impatience out on my underwear tonight.”

“Says the bossy bint who usually bangs her way in here pulling off her clothes before she gets to the bed.”

“Are you complaining?” she asked with a mock pout. "Cause if you are, I’m sure I could find some where else to take my clothes off, somewhere it will be appreciated....”

His eyes flashed amber at her for just a second as he let out a deep growl. “Over my dusty remains.”

“Don’t want your remains dusty. I like them just the way the are,” she murmured, dropping her head and running her tongue up the side of his cock. “All undusty and smooth and tasty.” She ran her tongue around the head, dipping it into the little slit exposed when she pushed the foreskin away.

The vampire had stopped trying to talk and was making inarticulate sounds as she took him in her mouth and began to suck in a steady rhythm. She rolled his balls around in one hand, feeling them begin to tighten and prepared herself for the explosion in her mouth. Instead, Spike grabbed her head, stilling it and delaying the release that was so close. He tugged on her head until she reluctantly raised it, letting him go with a soft slurping sound.

“What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously. “Wasn’t I doing it right?”

He bit his lip, still struggling to control himself before answering hoarsely, “I want to be in you the first time tonight. Need to be holding you.”

“But I wanted to give you a Christmas present,” she said with a small pout.

“You’ve already made my Christmas, sweetheart.” His eyes were full of the adoration she usually didn’t allow herself to see or acknowledge and she colored lightly at the look he was giving her.

“ ‘K, then,” she whispered, moving forward to lie on top of him. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just let me love you, Buffy. That’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted.”

He rolled them over, his hips dropping between her open thighs, his cock nudging at her entrance. At her whispered, “That’s what I want too,” he slid into her with a groan, his lips seeking hers as if he was seeking to connect as many intimate body parts as possible.

Their mouths and hips moved in unison, giving and taking pleasure in a way they never had before. For all the episodes of violent and inventive sex they’d indulged in over the previous few months, neither of them had ever opened up to the other the way they were this night. Spike had always feared rejection if he tried to make their coupling about feelings rather than sensation, and Buffy refused to admit to herself that she wanted more from him than just the physical release he provided so well.

As they built toward a mutually fulfilling conclusion to their first real love-making, Buffy could see Spike’s eyes changing and saw the struggle he was making to remain in his human face.

“It’s all right,” she gasped with sudden understanding as she felt herself losing control. “Do it. Do it now.”

She felt him shudder just before his fangs slipped easily through the delicate skin of her throat and he took the first long, hard pull of her blood. With a muffled scream, she felt herself fall into a spiral of continuous rapture; each mind-blowing orgasm succeeded by another with every deep pull the vampire took. Her body continued to quiver and quake long past the point where she was aware of what was happening to her. For the first time in her short life she had given herself completely to another person, to a lover, to a man who was both more and less than human. She felt herself lost and found all at the same time.

Spike was closed off from everything except the woman beneath him – the taste of her blood, the power inherent in it, as well as the feel of her shaking and clenching around him was too much for his demon and the man could only whisper silently his undying devotion. Only Buffy’s gentle pushing against his chest and her sharp, “Spike!” brought him back to himself long enough for him to release his grip on her neck. He quickly licked the wounds closed and drew back to gaze apologetically into her sated eyes.

“Oh, bloody hell, love. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to… just love you so bloody much—“

“I’m fine,” she hastened to assure him. “It’s just that you went away and I wanted you to come back to me.” In a rare show of affection, she caressed his face with one hand.

He leaned into her hand, turning his head to kiss her palm as he said earnestly, “I will always come back to you, Buffy. I promise you. I will always come back no matter where I am.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, my love.”

“All right. If you promise,” she murmured, as he rolled them over so as not to be crushing her with his weight. “Merry Christmas, Spike.”

He pulled the blankets up over their bodies and held her tightly as she curled trustingly into his side. “I wish I’d gotten you a present,” she mumbled just before her even breathing told him she had drifted off to sleep.

The vampire who had his every wish fulfilled within the space of twenty-four hours shook with silent chuckles at the idea that she had not given him anything for Christmas. “Merry Christmas, Buffy,” he whispered into her hair just before he joined her for a post-coital nap. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

The End