I'd like to apologise profusely for not being around for literally months! To cut a long story shot, I was in a boat accident on holiday, and when I came back to write my beta couldn't help anymore, so I have been frantically searching for a new one!

A huge thankyou therefore goes to Nicole, who has been lovely enough to take on and beta a story mid-way and has given me some great words of advice. :D




Buffy scurried to the window, pressing her back against the cool glass. She gulped as she heard the unmistakeable roar of a chainsaw revving to life.

Hardly a reassuring sound.

Smart move Buffy. Real smart. Let’s piss off a Master Vampire, and just for kicks taunt him a little before realising how bad the consequences are going to be…

The noise outside reached a crescendo, with jubilant cries from minions as the wooden door began to groan and splinter. Buffy suddenly snapped to attention, eyes frantically searching for a weapon of any kind.

But Spike had obviously taken notes from their last encounter. A single iron bed, table and a matching cupboard were fixed to the floor. Lacking any wood to use as a makeshift stake. Buffy stared hard at the bed, willing it to move with her mind.

Move, she chanted silently, beginning to panic. The bed began to tremble making the iron bars rattle, but the restraints were too strong.

She was running out of time.

The door was on its last legs, leaving Buffy one last alternative. Sneaking forward and taking care to avoid the saw, she snapped off a shard of wood, wincing as splinters embedded themselves in her hand. Hurrying back from the door, she slipped it into the back of her jeans as she stared at the disintegrating door.

Wood chips and dust floated down, until a figure jumped over the debris.

“That’s two doors you’ve ruined now, pet.”

Buffy gave a reluctant smile at that.

“Oh no… and you had such a beautiful home,” she retorted sarcastically.

Spike stalked towards Buffy, his duster billowing behind him. Her breath caught as she admired his chiselled face, her gaze resting upon his sensual mouth. A mouth that had kissed her brutally, had made her shiver and give in.

He was beautiful.

The beauty came with a price. Spike’s hands clenched in anger. Danger radiated from his body; he was a warrior ready to pounce.

Minions swarmed to the doorframe, peering in to watch the inevitable show-down, murmuring and chattering excitedly.

Spike spun round, growling at their insolence.

“Leave. Now.” he snarled, baring gleaming fangs.

The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving the two in eerie silence.

“These stunts are becomin’ tiresome Slayer.” Spike spoke quietly, his voice laced with menace.

Buffy spluttered indignantly, but Spike flashed her a look.

“Quiet.”

He stalked forward, his eyes glittering darkly.

“The time for games” he spat, “is over. I’ve been more than fair. Allowed you to have whatever you wanted – with Elise catering to your every bloody whim.” Spike slammed his hand down on the bed-side table.

“An’ what do you do?”

Buffy glowered at him, colour rising in her cheeks.

“WHAT DO YOU DO!” Spike roared.

“I fight back!” Buffy yelled angrily. “Until you let me go, until you stop this endless waiting! I’ve been stuck here, for weeks in this… this… prison with no light at the end of the tunnel! When will you fight me Spike? A month? Two months time?”

Spike’s eyes flashed fire as he stared at her.

Buffy carried on heatedly.

“Should I wait for you to come and kill me in my sleep? Or will you make me a vampire? You’re the one playing games Spike,” she accused, pointing her finger at him. “How dare you tell me I’m not appreciating how good you’re treating me!”

Spike walked up to Buffy, until he was inches apart.

“Is that what you’re waiting for Slayer? For me to make my move?”

Breathing heavily, Buffy titled her nose upwards. “Damn straight I am.”

His mouth curved into amused smile at Buffy’s petulent tone.

“Why then,” Spike said smoothly. “I apologise.”

Confused, Buffy wrinkled her brow. This wasn’t turning out how she had expected. Something was off. Spike was now leaning up against the wall, his stance deceptively casual. She had expected her words to anger him, but he seemed to find it hilarious that she had been waiting for him to do something, anything.

The thought made her blood boil.

Arrogant prick.

Well, if he found it so funny perhaps it was high time she made the first move. Fingering the stake hidden in her waistband, she gripped it tightly ready to spring forth and attack.

It seemed Spike had other ideas.

Quick as lightening he rushed her, his hard body pressing hers into the wall.

“Tut-tut, pet. None of that.”

Buffy immediately began to struggle, her body squirming against Spike’s. Unable to move she lashed out, viciously swiping her nails over his arms. Yet Spike didn’t register any pain. He simply grabbed her more firmly, stilling her movements and closing his eyes as he relished the feel of her back in his arms.

Moving closer he opened his eyes, mere millimetres away from Buffy. Suddenly she froze, realising what an intimate position they were in. Blushing profusely, she tried to edge backwards but found herself irrevocably trapped.

“What... What are you doing?” Buffy mumbled weakly.

Spike smiled wolfishly.

“Makin’ my move of course.”

And with that, he kissed her.

He was tender and soft – at first. Light, butterfly kisses that made her grow weak, as she sank into his embrace. Somewhere, somehow, Buffy could hear a voice screaming this was wrong, that he was evil - but she ruthlessly pushed the thought away.

It felt too good.

Pushing away from the wall, Buffy kissed Spike back, twining her arms around his neck. Her abandoned stake clattered to floor. Spike growled his approval, turning the kiss wild. Like lovers reunited, they clamoured to touch each other, burning with need. His lips feathered her throat, until he skimmed down to her pulse, making intricate patterns with his tongue. Buffy trembled in response, moaning and tilting her neck to allow him further exploration.

Spike hid his shock at Buffy’s wanton behaviour, greedily taking what was now freely offered. After days of tormenting himself that locking up such a creature of beauty and innocence would lead nowhere – he had been rewarded. Spike had done nothing to deserve it, but it sparked hope in his chest. She wasn’t shying away from him any more. She was frantic, wild, her scorching hands teasing every part of his body. She was his.

“Oh God…” Spike thrust his erection against her, making her moan in delight.

“More,” she gasped, grinding against him and arching her back. Spike hissed, his eyes melting to gold as he gazed upon her exposed breasts. His shaft throbbed, and he clutched Buffy’s bottom to thrust even harder.

“Buffy,” he hissed desperately. “I won’t be able to stop…” he trailed off, struggling not to take the writhing woman in his arms there and then.

Got to slow it down. Have to gain control.

But it was so hard.

He ached to possess her, to thrust himself inside her. He panted, taking deep breaths to clear his head and quell his burning desire.. Buffy shivered as she felt his cool breath tickle her neck. He was so intoxicating to her, a dangerous drug that she simply couldn’t get enough of. Tonight, she would give in to all her traitorous feelings, and banish her fears. Writhing in his arms with increasing frenzy, she clung to him as if he was a life-line.

Surprised, Spike stumbled back, keeping his strong arms curled around Buffy’s body and supporting her slight weight. Unable to resist, he bent his head to press cool lips on the dip of her breasts. His tongue began to trace her heated skin, pulling down her bra so he could feast hungrily on every inch. Buffy shuddered, her mind becoming hazy, as she cried out for more.

Dear God, don’t stop…

Sucking lightly on her skin, Spike shuddered, revelling in being so close to his woman. His mate. After being denied her touch for so long, his demon quickly became aggressive, insistent. It began to whisper, compelling him to claim her, make her his and his only. Spike shook his head frantically, grappling for control.

It’s too soon.

The demon’s whispers turned into a roar, demanding that he take her with or without her consent. Closing his eyes, Spike buried his head in her neck whilst his hands continued to squeeze her bottom. The possessive way he kneaded her skin sent frissions of desire dancing up her spine, making her moan throatily.

Spike slowed his movements as he concentrated on regaining control of his demon. Noticing that he had stilled, Buffy took the opportunity to skim her hands up his muscled back, kneading the tight muscles there. Groaning with delight, Spike clutched Buffy tighter resuming his exploration of her neck.

“Witch.”

Buffy arched one eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

Spike chuckled, his rich tones sending a flood of heat through Buffy’s body. He leant into her once more, swinging her into his arms and striding out of the room. Buffy didn’t protest, tucking her head into Spike’s shoulder.

Spike ran up a flight of stairs and opened a door along the hallway, kicking it shut. He gently lay down on the bed, cradling Buffy’s body next to his.

They lay in silence for a few minutes until he finally spoke. “Think you’ve cast some sort of mojo on me, Slayer. Making me act like a bleedin’ nancy boy.”

Buffy untangled herself from his embrace to curl up on his chest. Spike’s arms immediately reached for her, running his hands through her hair.

“You’re some kind of sickness. A disease that has infested my body and now I can’t get you out.” Buffy retorted.

Spike scoffed. “Well that’s just rich! At least I’m nice about it Slayer.”

Buffy giggled then abruptly stopped. She’d failed to stop this thing with Spike again, further complicating a horribly twisted situation. She lifted her head to look at him with serious eyes.

“This,” she gestured to the both of them “isn’t right. You know that. We’re too…” she searched helplessly for the right word. “Different.”

Spike nodded slowly.

“We can make this work. I want you with me always.”

If she could learn accept his status as a Master vampire and understand that he could be good to her despite his evil nature, maybe they would have a chance. He frowned. It would mean going against everything she’d ever been taught, breaking the chains of responsibility that had bound her since she was called. Foolish as it might be, Spike longed for her acceptance and a change to show her that they were true mates.

He had hope.

Buffy shook her head vehemently.

“No. Never.”

I could never become a vampire.

An unnatural chill seeped into Spike’s body at her words, creeping over his limbs and filling his stomach with dread. The borrowed warmth of Buffy’s body drained away as if he no longer held her in his arms. He longed to rub his body warm, to reawaken the warmth that had been his in life, but his body remained rigid and colder than usual. The room grew silent, her small breaths and racing heartbeat the only noises. With stricken eyes, he gazed at Buffy, wondering why he desired a mate who constantly remained so far from his grasp. Always out of reach. Suddenly, his eyes hardened.

He would not give her up.

Whatever it was between them – and he’d be buggered if he could explain it – he wouldn’t let it go. With steely resolve, he shook off the initial shock over Buffy’s rejection. Spike brushed a hand against her bare arm, watching her shiver before moving away. Buffy turned to look at him.

The golden flecks in Spike’s eyes appeared to flare. He gritted his teeth, as Buffy began to edge away. He reached for her, to draw her back in but her quiet voice stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Spike balled his fists into the bedsheets, radiating danger. “You will admit you want me Slayer. An’ when you do, this game is over. Because then I won’t be forcing you. I’ll know you really want to be mine then.”

He rolled off the bed, and walked to the door.

Buffy sat up. “Wait!”

Spike turned round, his face angry. “What?”

Buffy winced at his harsh tone. Ducking her head down, she began playing with the comforter before regaining her courage.

“Where am I?” she asked meekly. “This room is different than the rest.”

It was true. The room was plush, the centrepiece a large wrought-iron four poster bed, with billowing red and gold curtains. Pillows completed the sumptuous image, highlighted by flickering candles dotted round every available space.

Spike turned back round, and opened the door.

“My room. ’Night Slayer.”

He slammed the door shut with a bang, followed by bellow for a minion to stand guard.

Buffy huddled in the middle of the bed, gathering the duvet around her. It smelt of Spike. Horribly confused, Buffy lay back and wished that she could find the courage to tell Spike how she felt. As she stared unblinking at the dark ceiling she wondered why the words just couldn’t come.

*

Buffy tossed and turned for the millionth time that night, yet still couldn’t get to sleep. Her mind kept re-living the conversation she had with Spike. He’d been so still, his body rigid when she told him she couldn’t be one of them.

A creature of the night.

Yet, Buffy still felt this ache in her stomach – that she and Spike had no future. Whatever drew them two together would never be explored. Never be granted a chance.

She was a Slayer, with a duty to kill his kind to protect the innocent. How could she condemn hundreds to die to join Spike and his clan.? Not only that, she was a teenage freaking girl! Explaining to her friends and mother that she had fallen for a souless vampire could never end with well-wishes and smiles.

Buffy couldn’t rest until she tried to make Spike understand that she couldn’t sacrifice herself or hundreds of innocents because of her weird infatuation. If she could find the right words, maybe he’d let her go.

Springing out of bed with a hopeful smile, she searched until she found a scrap of paper and a pen. Thinking hard, she scrawled a quick message before propping up the note on the table.

Feeling much better, she settled down to sleep.

“Goodnight Spike,” she whispered.

*

As Buffy slept soundly, Spike returned.

It felt good having Buffy in his room. Her golden hair tangled in his pillows, her bronzed limbs caught up in his bed sheets. It didn’t seem strange that the most feared assassin of his kind was slumbering peacefully in his bed.

It was however, disconcerting that she snored.

Smiling slightly, Spike turned to leave, comforted that his Slayer was all right. A piece of paper, crudely positioned on the table caught his eye. In red, a large ‘S’ was smeared on the top. Curious, he opened up the note and read the message inside.

“Spike,
I’m sorry about this evening, I don’t want to lead you on. You seem to forget that we come from different worlds, My destiny is to kill your kind and protect the world. This attraction between us has to end. I won’t let you take away my destiny by making me a vampire. We don’t have future together. Please let me go.
Buffy.”

Spike spun back to Buffy’s sleeping form, his jaw slack.

The chit thought he was going to turn her? Spike silently groaned. No wonder she had so firmly rejected him! He was simply asking for a chance and Buffy thought he intended to make her a vampire.

Spike grinned. If he could get her to understand that they could be mated without his turning her, maybe Buffy would give into her feelings. True, giving in would mean going against values that had been instilled in her since she was called. But if she gave in, it would me that she wanted to be with him – mind, body and soul. Tomorrow, he would begin his campaign to win Buffy over.

Things were about to get very interesting.