Author’s Note: Part the second. Thanks again to Kar, of course.


Chapter Three: Patrol


It was way too much fun watching him fight. He was graceful and quick and a really dirty fighter. Which was fine; it wasn't like the other demons were going to fight fair either. And yeah, it was probably wrong that watching him twist something's head off made her all flushed, but the whole situation was so wrong on so many levels that she'd given up on trying to do the moral math.

He swaggered back over to her where she was lounging against a tall stone. "Shirking your duty, slayer?"

She shrugged as he closed in. "You looked like you were doing fine on your own."

His fingers combed through her hair. "Use to you getting all out of sorts when I try to pitch in."

"Well I did invite you along this time, and I guess I didn't have as much steam to blow off tonight."

His eyebrows quirked up. "Feeling a bit less frustrated, are you?"

She had to look away, because, well, yeah. She was feeling a hundred sorts of scared and conflicted and nervous, but letting him get all touchy had certainly relieved a little tension. But not all of it. There was still plenty of tension. Maybe he could help with that.

She rubbed her forehead, like she could massage out the bad thoughts. But again, why was it so bad, she argued with herself. What was the worst that could happen? Then again, just because he hadn't killed anyone in a year or so, that didn't suddenly make him a prince. But he was also actively helping them now, and it was obvious he hadn't been getting his demon buddies to bring him his dinner, so maybe he really had changed. Maybe he actually meant all that stuff about turning his back on the whole evil thing.

Which was insane, but still seemed true.

Her brain hurt.

She tried talking to Willow, but the whole thing seemed to really freak out her friend. Willow just said a lot of things about how Buffy knew what the best thing to do for herself was, and how she would still be her friend whatever she decided. Willow had tried so hard not to express an opinion that she couldn’t possibly have made it any clearer that she thought Buffy had totally lost it.

"You alright, pet?"

"Just a headache," she replied.

"Got something for that," he assured her, taking her hand and leading her toward his crypt.

They were holding hands. It was strange. Nice, but strange. Spike didn't seem like a hand-holding guy. Eventually he dropped her hand and pressed his palm against her back, which seemed less bizarre somehow.

She sat gingerly on the couch while he poked around his kitchen area. Why did he still live in a crypt if he had money? Why not get a nice apartment? Would that make him feel completely defanged? Buffy took the glass he offered and swallowed it down despite the smell.

With a cough she threw the glass back at him. "Was that whiskey? Blerg!"

He chuckled at her as he joined her on the couch. "Christ, that's bloody adorable." Off her outraged look, he added. "What’s the matter, slayer, can't hold your liquor? Worked, didn't it?"

She frowned, but yes it had worked, although mostly by distracting her from all her thinking. He lifted one of her legs, pulled off the boot, and began rubbing her instep.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

He rolled his eyes. "What does it look like, love? Just relax."

She swung her other leg up and laid her head back against the arm of the couch. Buffy decided she was done weighing the pros and cons, because no matter how many times she went over it, the conclusion wasn't changing. It was wrong, but she didn't care.

So when his hands moved from her feet to her calves, then her thighs, then the button of her jeans, she didn't stop him, didn't say anything. She just lifted her hips to let him drag the denim off. She didn't stop him when he took her shirt off, or his, or when he pressed his naked body against hers.

Then finally she stopped just letting him do stuff and started doing things back.
Buffy shouted something incomprehensible and jerked her hips up, hard. She realized what she'd done and held her breath for a moment, afraid she'd broken his nose, but he just laughed, which felt amazing actually, under the circumstance. When she was able to think again instead of just moaning and thrashing against his tongue, she realized with a rush that she didn't have to hold back for once.
She licked her lips and frowned. "How does this work?"

She could hear his sigh behind her, and it pissed her off. She didn't have a century of experience in the bedroom. She wriggled a bit and he groaned. "Just lean back a bit, love."

With a sigh she did as he suggested, still not seeing what the big deal was. Then his hands clasped her hips and moved her and "oh!"

"Told you."

"Shut up," she grunted.

"Long as you don't," he agreed.

No danger of that, she quickly decided as he started moving faster.



"Wow."

"Right."

"So, again?"

"Need a minute, pet."

She huffed a laugh and pushed sweat-soaked hair off her face. "Thought you vampires were supposed to be able to go all night," she teased. She kissed him before he could get a comeback in. If they stopped, she would have to start thinking again, and that was bad.

Running her fingers through his hair, she clambered over him. She knew he was trying hard to impress her, which, mission accomplished. But that didn't mean she couldn't return the favor. "Let me drive for awhile," she suggested.

That got the necessary reaction.



They were both exhausted, but not quite ready to stop. Limbs all tangled and bodies barely moving. Little climaxes tripped through her every few breaths. When she felt him tense up again, she let herself relax, let the drowsy feeling settle over her. She lacked even the energy to roll away from him. So she just let herself drift off in his embrace.



Chapter Four: Morning After


She woke up to the scent of coffee and bananas, which was confusing. Her clothes were all upstairs, so she wrapped the sheet around her body and slowly climbed the ladder on shaky legs. Buffy heaved herself onto the couch, feeling worn and wobbly. But in a good way, she guessed.

Spike handed her a warm Styrofoam mug and dropped a sack next to her on the couch. She peaked inside and tore off a chunk of muffin. When she swallowed it suddenly occurred to her how hungry she was. Her hair was probably a complete wreck and she could barely move, but Spike was still looking at her like she’d hung the moon.

So far the plan was not exactly a great success. Probably she should have been more upset about that.

“What time is it?” she asked after imbibing enough coffee to form short sentences.

“Little after seven.”

She eyed him dubiously. The coffee was still hot. “You went out for treats after sunrise?”

The smile he gave her could not have been more gloating. “After sunset, love. Was quite a nap you took.”

Buffy choked on a sip of coffee and blinked at him. But actually, it made sense. It had been late by the time they’d gotten to his crypt after patrol, and then a truly impressive amount of time had passed before they conked out. She also vaguely remembered waking up a few times to do it again. No wonder she’d slept through the day.

“Mom!” she realized aloud. “I’ve got to--”

Spike gripped her elbow. “No need, slayer. Little sis came by all in a tizzy. Told her you’d had a vigorous bout of monster wrestling and you’d crashed here.”

Her jaw dropped. “You told her what! Are you insane?” She buried her hands in her matted hair.

“Figured it was close enough to the truth.”

“A little too close,” she grumbled. Dawn was never going to stop teasing her.

He nestled in next to her, and she didn’t bother to pretend she minded when he put an arm around her. “Tuckered you out, did I?”

Buffy sighed. “Yes. Your staying power is truly impressive,” she replied with a disdain she didn’t really feel.

His expression turned serious. “Right you are. And I am staying. You’re not going to run me off, love.”

She rolled her eyes at his bad pun, but didn’t argue with him. Right now he was all smitten because he’d gotten what he thought he wanted. They’d had a good round of fighting and a whole lot of orgasms, so he was feeling good and thought everything was perfect. A few weeks and he would see what a drag it was, what a drag she was. At least she wouldn’t be bored in the meantime.

The coffee and food were making her feel awake and his arm was actually pretty comfy. She relaxed against him and even let him feed her a chunk or two of muffin. No point in counting the calories, she’d burned a week’s worth with him already. It was nice and cozy there with him, and she didn’t want to think too much about how she might actually miss moments like this when he did inevitably get fed up with her.

So instead she actively tried to think of something else, which caused her to remember something. She jumped up off the couch. “Crap! The party! Do you still have my blue sweater in your shrine stuff?”

He looked a little indignant, but finally answered, “
Yeah.”

Good. She could do second day jeans, but wearing the same top two days in a row was not done. “There’s this spring break party tonight. I’m supposed to meet the gang.” She took a deep breath. “Do you want to come too? I need a comb.”

At the party they watched the others dancing, had some awkward conversations with the Scoobies, and then they had to go track down a despondent robot. As they walked along the streets together, she decided she just hadn’t given the plan enough time. Eventually he would get tired of her, and in the meantime she might as well have some fun. And if he didn’t? Well, that wouldn’t exactly be the end of the world.

And if there was anything she knew, it was the end of the world.


fin

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