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banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008

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...part IX...
.:happy fairytale go boom:.

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"I'm gonna kill him."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, you're not. You're just moody because he can actually threaten to make you sit still for long periods of time. Attention Deficit Disorder, my ass."

Spike grinned for a moment. "And what a nice ass it is, too." He shook his head and growled, then, the smile leaving his face. "All the bloody same, though. I hate your fuckin' watcher, Buffy!" The declaration was punctuated by Spike slamming his fist into the wall. "He's kept me here for three days straight, it's a bleedin' wonder I didn't eat him yet!"

She hoisted herself up onto the pommel horse and looked at him seriously. "Spike, it's just for another day. I don't think Giles is getting everything he wanted. All he has on this is my reaction to you being in danger or pain. That and those weird glinties you get when you hear me walking in."

He frowned. "When was that?" he asked, eyeing her curiously from his position against the wall.

Buffy shrugged. "Day two. I came in with Willow after classes, and Giles said your eyes started glowing."

Spike raised his eyebrows at her, sufficiently stunned. Then his brow furrowed and he looked thoughtful. "Where the bloody hell was I? I wanna see that," he grumbled.

Buffy rolled her eyes at him and shifted on the pommel horse, straddling it and pushing herself up with her hands. "Honey, you don't have a reflection, so you can't see the glinties. Now stop whining and spot me," she commanded, twisting and grabbing the handles firmly.

Spike pushed off from the wall, pulling a box of Marlboros out of his duster pocket. He winced slightly as he slid his right arm out of the sleeve, then tossed the heavy leather coat onto the dummy in the corner. The dislocated shoulder hadn't taken long to heal since Buffy had popped it right back into it's socket, but it still hurt like a bitch to move it, not to mention the stake wound that was still gaping slightly.

Slipping his Zippo out of his jeans' pocket, he lit up, then tossed the box onto a chair. Cocking his head, he took in the curve of Buffy's lower back, and spoke as she brought her legs over her head, doing a handstand. "Are you sure you want me in here while you do that?"

Buffy lifted her head slightly in acknowledgement and grinned. "Well, it depends whether or not you can keep your hands to yourself."

Spike raised his eyebrow, following her body with his eyes until his face appeared to have become much like the woman-loving wolf from the Looney Tunes cartoons -- lolling tongue, wicked leer and all. "Uh... definitely can't promise that."

Buffy laughed, her eyes inviting him closer. "Are you gonna watch me or what? Cuz if you’re not, I could get Xander in here... I’m sure he’d be happy to do it."

Spike scowled, growling softly at her. "Oh, I’m watchin’, luv. An’ if you even joke about bringin’ that git in, I’ll..." He trailed off of the grouse, inwardly imagining ways to torture Xander. Buffy somehow sensed his thoughts and gave him a Look, complete with the scowly eyes.

"You’ll what?"

Spike moved closer and kicked the pommel horse, making her lose her balance. She yelped as she dropped and Spike grabbed her before she hit the floor, pulling her up, her back against him. Placing his hands on her hips, he softly kissed the shell of her ear and murmured, "I’ll do somethin’ not nice, pet. You have to remember..." His left hand ran up her side to cup one small, firm breast and squeezed gently, pressing himself full against her ass. His parts responded correctly to the sound of the soft, arousing gasp she gave. He bent forward slightly, his lips grazing her earlobe. "I’m a very... very... bad man."

Buffy sighed softly and leaned into him, her eyes closing as she tucked her head gently into the curve of his neck. Feels good... floated through her passive mind. His arms curled around her waist, and his lips softly kissed a path down her neck. Soothingly, he pressed his mouth against her jaw and chin. Buffy turned her head toward his and stared into his eyes, smiling as flashes of gold and silver rippled past, causing the deep, stormy blue to almost shimmer like a pool of water. Her hand moved up to touch his face, her thumb tracing his strong jaw.

"You have the glowy eyes again," she murmured, her voice sounding like the voice of a sleepy child. Spike smiled and bent his head, touching his lips softly to hers.

God, this was nice. He didn’t know what it was about finally giving in to his attraction to Buffy, but he was pretty sure that it had something partly to do with the fact that she wasn’t kicking him in the nuts and tossing him out in the sun.

It couldn’t be just that, though. Tender was good. Tender was nice. Tender soothed the savage Buffy Beast from emerging and kicking the hell out of him. But at the moment, tender also meant that... it meant that Buffy was falling for him.

Buffy... was falling for him.

Finally.

Dru had never liked tender. She didn’t like cuddling. She preferred to be coddled, or pet, like a prize cat. And in bed, she was all for the kinky. Kinky was good. Yay, kinky. In fact, from the time Spike had been Sired by his mad ex-lover to the time that Darla had finally left to rejoin the Master, Spike and Dru had thoroughly used any means necessary to fulfill any and all sexual interests that were beyond the norm.

Dru really could be quite creative when she wanted to be.

Chains had become a constant when Angelus had taken his Childer back to Ireland. He’d killed off the owners of a castle, and while he’d been off searching out their wealth and looking for more victims, Drusilla had sniffed her way to a dungeon. That first night had proven to find a great deal of fun toys, and Spike had woken up from an already arousing sleep, to a more titillating surprise.

Harmony had been the same -- obviously, though, to a much lesser degree than Drusilla. No chains or shackles were ever present -- she used silk scarves and the like from what she’d take at that stupid shop named after the jokers' holiday. He had to admit, the scarves felt better on the wrists than the manacles did, and Harmony was sweet in bed, in her own little way -- Spike guessed that she’d been turned as a virgin -- but she lacked the creativity that Drusilla had had.

He was beginning to prefer it that Buffy had no experience with bondage. Maybe he could introduce it to her -- slowly. He winced inwardly as he remembered her first two introductions to his handcuffs around a month or two earlier. He really did have to learn to be more subtle and sensitive to her. She was probably a virtuous princess, thanks to Peaches and Commando Boy.

He was sure he could bring out her wild side. Hell, he’d already started.

At the moment, though, with her soft, strawberry-flavored lips on his, kissing him back so incredibly sweetly, he was beginning to think that bondage and wild, rushed fucking was overrated.

He grunted softly as he heard a creak come from the other side of the store outside the door. Sniffing, he scented Giles’ approach, and pulled away gently, giving Buffy a pointed Look. One that pretty much said, "Oh, balls," but nonetheless warned her of uninvited guests. Buffy pouted and pulled away reluctantly, returning to her stretches while Spike looked down and around himself, searching for his suddenly-missing cigarette. He rolled his eyes as he discovered it, mashed into the floor and completely, utterly useless. It figured; he must have dropped it while he’d been making smoochies with Buffy, then trampled it while he’d pulled away. He was lucky the damn training area hadn’t caught fire from the tip or anything.

Grumbling, he stalked over to his chair and grabbed the pack out of his duster pocket. Snatching another cigarette out, he flipped out his Zippo and lit up as he walked over to the other side of the horse, scrutinizing the tiny Slayer as she balanced on one arm on the beam.

The door opened and Giles walked through; Buffy’s eyes shot open, widening and darting to Spike. He made a shrugging gesture and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Bloody uninvited guests." Buffy grinned; Spike really did have good timing.

"Ah, Buffy... you’re training? With Spike?" The Watcher fought to keep a pout off of his face. He was an Englishman, damn it; Englishmen, especially one as distinguished as he was, did not pout.

Buffy pivoted herself carefully, managing to keep her position and not fall over. "Not exactly. Just a little prepping, you know, stretches, warm-up, whatever. Spike’s spotting me," she replied. Spike took that as a cue to move forward.

He was being extremely audacious doing what he was doing in front of the chit’s Watcher, but he figured it would get in a good laugh for later. He put one hand on her pelvis, and the other on her ass, righting her and lifting her down. Buffy realized what he was doing too late and could barely keep herself from giggling out loud as she turned to face Giles. Spike’s fingers ran over her cotton-covered ass, wedging between her legs as she made an attempt to talk with Giles. She squirmed slightly, moving her arm behind her and swatting his hand away.

"Um, Giles, if you, uh... don’t! Don’t mind, um, maybeeee! Spike could do the, uh... the, um..." Now she couldn’t stop from giggling -- Spike had ceased with the hanky-panky and was currently digging his fingers into her sides, looking for ticklish spots. She batted him away from her, giggling, and covered her eyes with one hand. Pointed to Spike with the other, she whined, "Giles, make him stop!"

Giles grumbled under his breath and frowned at the vampire. "Spike, please try to be more professional. This is hardly the time for you to be in one of your... hyperactive stages."

Their interactions with each other were getting more and more disturbing.

"Hyperactive my ass. Horny’s more like," the vampire muttered under his breath. Buffy pressed her lips together, forcing the stupid grin off of her face, and pulled herself together until she could talk again.

"Uh, like I was saying. Maybe Spike should train with me just this once. I’m gonna end up killing you if I give you another backflip-roundhouse combo like last time. And this way, you can take more notes on us, and our interactions and stuff."

Giles grimaced slightly, but he knew Buffy would continue pressing until she got what she wanted. So... he nodded.

"All right," he mumbled, relinquishing the punching bag title to Spike -- who in all truth, should have had it to begin with. He’d been Buffy’s punching bag for quite sometime now, and Buffy would take her frustrations out on Spike, more than she would on her own Watcher.

He just didn’t know exactly which frustrations she took out on the vampire.

Spike turned toward her. "All right. Flip me. Just use one foot. Come at me with a front flip, stay in the arched position and hook your right foot under me, then heft me up."

Buffy gave him an odd look, but shrugged.

Suddenly Spike felt a swift kick to his stomach, and as he was doubled over, he sensed a delicate leg between his and let out a yell as he was hoisted up and slammed into a training room wall. Sliding down, he groaned in pain, then twisted, trying to pull himself up. His eyes lifted to look at the Slayer, who was raising her eyebrows at him, her hands on her hips.

"What? You told me to flip you -- I did. You never said anything about not using any other technique."

Spike glared at her and grunted. He pulled himself up, saying, "Cute, Slayer, real cute. Aren’t you just the little smartass."

Buffy nodded, beaming. "Yes! I am!"

Spike narrowed his eyes at the Slayer and leaned in, his face so close that they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Just be glad that I don’t seem to have the urge to snap your neck anymore, luv," he muttered in a low voice. Buffy tilted her head to the side and folded her arms, the grin still firmly in place. Giles, who seemed to have been forgotten in the last three minutes, watched the pair very closely and noted, with surprise and no small amount of alarm, the identical gold flashes that appeared in both of their eyes. He furrowed his brow and made a note in his journal, then observed the warriors quietly.

Spike was quick to realize that he and Buffy were just standing there, ogling each other, and that the Watcher was still in the room... watching them (and didn’t they have the most awful habit of actually watching their Slayers?). He straightened and backed away. A silent communication passed from him to her, then Spike abruptly lashed out, capping the Slayer in the jaw. Buffy stood still for a moment, testing the momentum of the blow, then returned a punch of equal strength, striking the vampire in the side of his head. Spike paused, feeling the familiar surge of power run through him at the prospect of fighting her, then shook his head, his eyes glowing a blindingly bright yellow as his human face faded into his demon countenance. Leering at the Slayer, he growled, and his lips curled up over his fangs in an evil smirk.

Then he lunged.

Buffy gave a grunt of surprise, nearly getting knocked off of her feet from Spike’s attack. She thrust forward, head-butting him in the chest. As soon as he was propelled away from her, she flew at him, performing a spin-kick to his head. Spike roared and grabbed her foot, shoving her back. Buffy hit the ground and groaned as Spike pounced on top of her. Fists met her face with hit after hit, and after a moment, she snapped back to reality, realizing that Spike was straddling her breasts. She snorted mentally. He is such a perv. She was entirely positive that if Giles hadn’t been in the room with them, Spike would be -- well, they wouldn't be fighting, that was for sure.

Typical Spike behavior.

But Spike was enjoying this way too much. A smile of unadulterated bliss was on his vampy face, and every punch he was able to lock in was made with great flourish. Buffy managed to snap out of her mini-daze and dragged her arm up, snapping it across his jaw. Spike snarled and dropped back, his head hitting the floor as Buffy switched their positions. Sitting on his stomach, she dug her knees into his sides and punched his nose.

Giles was worried. He knew that Buffy enjoyed her fighting, especially when it was Spike who she was fighting with -- there was no doubt about it. In fact, noting Buffy’s ecstasy when fighting Spike had become a normal occurrence in the group.

It was just the arousal and lust that was so plainly apparent on both their faces right now that disturbed him.

Normally, Buffy had a look of complete determination when she was sparring. At the moment, both she and her counterpart had gotten to their feet, and Buffy was battling him across the room with a dagger she’d snatched from a wall mount, delivering quite a few perfect hand flips and snap kicks. That was generally a good thing, as Giles had rarely ever seen her let go so easily and be so fluid and focused with her brawling. She was pretty much wiping the floor with Spike, and once again, that was a good thing. Except, this time she had a huge smile plastered on her face and her green eyes were unusually bright. Not to mention that fact that Spike seemed more than happy having his ass handed to him.

Yeah, he was definitely disturbed.

"Had enough, baby?" Spike growled, grabbing her arm with one hand and wrapping the other around her waist. Jerking her back side against his front, he ran his hand -- the one blocked from the Watcher’s line of sight -- straight down the Slayer’s body, cupping her ass. Buffy shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment, then discreetly pushed him away, spinning out of his grasp. Doing a no-hands back flip, her legs swung up with her, colliding with his face and sending him flying back. He smacked against the wall and groaned as he slid to the ground. Buffy gasped for breath as she landed on her feet. She tossed her hair back, gasping.

"Not yet, Spike."

An enormous smile overtook Spike’s face and he leapt up, running for her. Swooping her up, he chuckled menacingly when she unintentionally let out a small shriek as he pinned her up to a wall. Pulling back, he hauled off, hitting her cheek hard, then hit her again before she could retaliate. This time, Buffy head butted him and pushed him away, dropping to her feet. Spinning, she lifted her leg and kicked him, then flowed directly into a roundhouse, combined with an uppercut in an adaptation of the move she had mentioned to Giles earlier. All was followed by a barrage of punches, and Spike suddenly found himself on his back on the ground, with Buffy sitting on him.

Oh, this could be a bad position to be in, considering that the Watcher was still in the room with them, and had access to a countless number of weapons. He could feel his lower half jump in response to the heat flowing from her own crotch.

"Had enough, Spike?" she asked, extending her hand. Spike clasped it, then yanked her down on top of him. Her hand remained clutched in his, squished in between their bodies.

"Not even close to it, luv," he murmured in a husky voice. He felt a tremor go through the Slayer’s tiny body, and his nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal doubled all at once. Okay, this was not doing his cock much good. At this rate, his balls were gonna burst, and he’s be useless till next Tuesday.

Right, that was that, then. He had to get her out of here.

Buffy pulled herself up, then tugged Spike up by their still-attached fists, clearly thinking the same thing. She eyed him hungrily, her lust all too evident, and she chewed lightly on her lower lip before dropping his hand and turning quickly to Giles.

"Uh, Spike and I should probably... patrol. You know, check and see if there’s any action or... something from that hellbitch that’s looking for... for Dawnie."

Giles looked up in alarm, eyeing Spike. "Buffy, don’t you, ah, mean --"

"I told him, Giles. He knows," she interrupted.

The Watcher glanced back and forth wearily between the two blondes. "He knows?"

Spike nodded his head in confirmation, then shrugged. "I know."

Giles scowled. Well, damn. He wished Buffy had told him about this sooner. "What, er... possessed you to tell him?" he asked uncertainly, not holding his footing too well with his words.

Buffy looked at him, then looked at Spike, shrugging. She replied, simply, "I trust him."

Spike’s head shot up, and he stared long and hard at the Slayer. She looked at him meaningfully, a barely perceptible twitch of a smile gracing her face.

Oh. Just give him a bed, some cuffs, whipped cream, wine, and about ten hours, and he’d show her just what he thought of that. As it was, he was fully prepared to fuck her right into the ground.

Giles eyed the vampire, and bristled slightly at the look on his face. This entire situation was making him nervous. But what he absolutely hated was that he could voice his opinion about Buffy and Spike and their new-found... attachment to each other all he wanted, and Buffy would ignore every single word coming out of his mouth. Spike would tease and hassle him about it. Both Slayer and Vampire were so damn bullheaded that any warnings Giles issued would be neglected entirely. Which meant that...

He could do absolutely nothing. He sighed and nodded, feeling a sudden lack of energy to argue with his Slayer, and being very much in need of a large amount of Scotch. "Go on, Buffy. Please remember to check in if you come across anything out of the ordinary."

Buffy nodded quickly. "Yup, you got it, Giles. Check-In Girl, that’s me!" She gave a shrill giggle as she started for the door. Spike followed her promptly, nodding his head at the Watcher.

"Later, Rupert," he muttered, stalking out the door. Giles crossed his arms and waited.

A second later, Spike sheepishly poked his head back in, grabbed his duster and cigarettes, then walked back out without a second look.

Giles sighed.

---

"Buffy, where ya going? And -- hey, why’s he going with?" Xander queried. He was about as nervous as Giles was about the situation between those two.

It took almost everything Buffy had in her not to turn around and say, "Because he's not going to scream and run like a ten-year-old girl, and there's more of a chance that I can jump him when you aren't around." But then she thought of the look of stark terror that she would probably see in Xander's eyes -- either that, or utter hatred -- and forced herself to be nice. She turned and looked at Xander with wide, innocent eyes as Spike brushed past her and waited at the door, giving Xander an insolent glare.

"Oh, we’re just going for patrol, that’s all. Take care of Dawnie for me?" she asked. Willow nodded.

"Of course, Buffy. She’s safe here, snug as a bug in a rug," the Wicca quipped, grinning. Buffy smiled back in relief.

"Good, great. Thanks, guys. I should be back around..." her eyes strayed to Spike for confirmation. "Midnight." He nodded discreetly. "Okay, ah... where is Dawn?" she asked, looking around.

Xander raised his hand. "Anya conned her into doing some inventory with her. I don’t know how, please don’t ask."

Buffy nodded. "Gotcha. Well. Okay. Leaving now. For patrol," she said, an enormous grin on her face. She strode out the door and Spike nodded to the girls, then smirked at Xander, offering him the one-fingered salute. He rushed after Buffy.

Xander watched the hurried exit, then turned to Willow. "They’re going to patrol, right? Please tell me they’re going to patrol?"

Willow just looked at him.

---

Running halfway down the street, Buffy suddenly turned and yanked Spike into a darkened alley, pinning him to a wall and mashing her lips to his. Spike responded in kind, his hands grabbing at every possible part of her. His kisses could have bruised her, but right now, she all but gave a damn. Not touching him was driving her absolutely crazy.

Spike had never wanted someone so much in his life. Her arousal was flaring and any second now, he was gonna rip every single shred of clothing off of her, to hell with decency. His cock was going to combust in a nanosecond, damn it! His hands roved over her taut body, cupping her breasts and palming them roughly. A passionate moan rumbled past Buffy’s lips into Spike’s mouth, and he attempted to hoist her up, but she resisted, pulling away. Spike was confused, for obvious reasons, and the Look he gave Buffy voiced his hurt and unspoken complaint.

Her response was much more than he anticipated. His shirt was a button-up, which was probably a good thing as he thought back on it, since Buffy seemed hell-bent on ripping and destroying his clothes. True to form, Buffy gripped the collar of the silky black shirt and jerked it apart, the buttons snapping right off and flying in every which direction. Spike’s eyes widened, and he made an attempt to speak that never made it past his lips, but damned if he didn't love this aggressive side of his Slayer. Buffy’s mouth descended on his chest, licking and kissing her way to his nipples. Her nimble little tongue swirled around the right nipple before her mouth fixed itself over it. She began to suck. Spike’s head rolled back and smacked the wall, moaning low. Her hot little mouth was so much better than he’d even imagined.

"Buffy," he mumbled softly, his eyes shutting. He groaned when Buffy replied with a bite to the nipple. His hand moved up to clutch the back of her head and he pressed himself against her.

Buffy gasped, a dinging sound coming from somewhere inside her head when she felt the bulge in Spike’s pants poke into her stomach, then harden further. Okay -- now she was curious. What exactly did he have in there?

She’d only actually seen two male... parts in her life. Parker’s was slightly above average length by maybe a quarter of an inch, and Riley had the regular, proper one that most men had. Nothing to brag about, and certainly not at all spectacular. She’d never even gotten a good look at Angel’s, since they’d only been together that one night. They’d only made love once, before her utter exhaustion had consumed her, and she had passed out, only to wake up to the horror that become her life.

Spike was just rubbing against her at the moment, and she was getting the impression that he had a few eighty pound boulders in there.

Time to find out.

Her hand moved down between them, and she grabbed the button clasp, pulling it open. Her fingers grasped the zipper as her lips moved up to suck on his neck. Spike wasn’t reacting to anything she was doing, so he really must’ve been out of it. Zipper slid down, pants opened, and suddenly there was something really hard... really long... and really pointy stabbing her stomach. Buffy pulled back and Spike stared at her with a glazed expression in his eyes. The Slayer looked down.

She certainly felt safe saying that Spike was above average - in every possible way.

She looked back up at Spike, an awed expression on her face. Spike stared back at her, licking his lips, and suddenly he couldn’t resist. He pulled her to him and mashed his lips to hers. Buffy moaned and kissed him back, clutching at him frantically as both bodies began to rock accordingly to their positions. Spike ground his newly bared cock against her mound, thrusting as hard as he could as Buffy pulled her lips away, kissing and licking his neck. Her tongue slid in a straight path down his smooth white chest, then through the soft hair below his navel and the courser hair surrounding the base of his cock. And wasn’t it lovely, standing straight up, ivory and mahogany, looking like a new tower standing amidst the rubble of an old one.

She trailed her tongue up the shaft before allowing her lips the pleasure of engulfing the head. Spike’s eyes promptly rolled back and he cried out, his head falling back and repeatedly smacking against the wall. His hands shot toward Buffy’s head, his long, slender fingers twisting and entangling themselves in her blonde curls. Buffy pushed forward, beginning to bob her head, her mouth forming a tight suction around the whole of his cock.

Damn -- and he’d thought her mouth on his chest was heaven!

It was odd -- he’d always had some sort of attraction to her. The first time he’d seen her, he’d been simply enthralled. The way she moved was unlike that of any of the Slayers he’d ever encountered. Buffy was lithe, agile, quick on her feet with a bitching, quick-witted attitude, and hot to boot. Granted, he’d had more of a lust for her blood at first, but sometime after their first truce, the lust had cooled to more of a ‘fuck-her-unconscious, then-drink-her-when-she-wakes’ type thing. Right now, it had pretty much digressed to a simple "must-fuck-woman" frenzy.

Of course, he had yet to actually fuck her.

Which was exactly what was gonna happen if she even thought of taking that glorious mouth off of his aching cock. He’d never thought that bloodlust and hate for someone that was so much his equal could give way to passion and lust of the primal kind. This definitely wasn't normal, of course -- what the hell was normal about the Vampire Slayer and a vampire, especially two as renowned as they were, getting it on?

He was supposed to hate her; supposed to want to kill her, to drain her of her blood. When he’d first gotten the chip out, that had been what he’d initially meant to do. He’d been dying to kill her, practically salivating at the thought of draining her. But lying on top of her in the doctor’s office, drinking her thick, luscious blood, breathing in the intense headiness of her distinct arousal, his body rubbing against hers in all the right places and fitting against hers so perfectly... Something had happened, something in the air had snapped and he’s been left wanting nothing but her. He wanted to feel her heat forever, feel her essence surround every inch of him, envelope him and draw him in even further.

That was why he had claimed her, he realized. He had the chip out, yeah, he could gloat as much as he wanted to the vampires and demons at the bars he went to. William the Bloody was back and even badder, and his first act of business as the One True Big Bad had been to sauce the Slayer and claim her as his.

Yeah, he could do that. But why? What on earth would be the point of it? He’d been aligned with Buffy, albeit reluctantly at first, since last year, and all the demons he knew no longer trusted him. He was still evil -- damn straight he was -- there was no way in hell that some dinky little chip was taking that away from him. But it obviously wasn’t going to be top priority anymore. There was something much more important that had gained his full attention now.

He wanted her -- not just her body, her blood, or the damn sex (which he still wasn’t getting) -- Spike wanted the woman. Wanted her to be his. Always his, and always there. He -- he wanted to go to sleep next to her every night, and wake up next to her in the mornings and why for the love of the bloody Powers was he turning into such a goddamn poofy git?

He was jolted back to reality when he realized this. It hit him, much like Buffy’s punches did when she was extra pissed at him: he was really in love with her. He’d thought his dream, and his first realization had just been some strange, fucked-up flukes, things that had only been brought on by his arousal that night. He had, after all, been simultaneously drinking Slayer’s blood and grinding against her -- after all, he'd figured out after his first taste of a Slayer's blood that the vampire who drank it was suddenly overcome with arousal. He had not been aware, however, of just how spectacular the coupling of a vampire, a vampire slayer, and their blood would be.

That dream had actually done him some good -- at least it had awakened him to his attraction. And now it looked like it had helpfully pushed him toward something earth-shattering: he truly was in love with Buffy Summers.

Of course it would be so much easier to hate her.

Not now, though. He couldn’t ever hate her again, not after what they’d shared. He couldn’t go back, even if he wanted to. He could try to hate her as much as he wanted, but the truth was that he’d admitted his love for her.

One day, loving Buffy would get him killed.

But it didn’t matter now. Because every second he was with this girl made his inevitable death more worth it than he could imagine.

Especially in this position.

Buffy’s hot, tight little mouth had him right on the edge of his climax, and her sneaky little hands slid into his pants, cupping his firm ass and digging her nails into his skin. Spike gave a long, heady moan, pitching forward and pushing his cock further into her mouth. Buffy gave a muffled protest but pushed forward anyway. Her hands moved to his front, the nails of one hand stroking his scrotum while her other hand gently cupped his balls, rolling the large smooth orbs in her palm and squeezing them.

Spike groaned again, his fingers nearly digging right through the Slayer’s scalp as he shot his load into her mouth. Nearly completely dazed, and only half-conscious, he barely noticed as the Slayer swallowed each pump of cum he gave as he thrust himself desperately past her soft lips. If he had, he probably would’ve been shocked right back to life. Not even Dru had swallowed -- actually, Dru hadn’t even been keen on sucking him off, either. She’d do it once in a while, yes, but she much rather preferred to be on the receiving end of she and Spike’s naughty fun time.

All this simply made Spike fall even more in love with Buffy. Not only was she beautiful, a walking weapon of devastation, the most gifted fighter he’d ever met, the best Slayer in the history of Slayers, and his match in every comprehendible way, but she had to be the world’s best, most gifted cocksucker, too.

If it was possible - and legal - he would marry this girl.

Buffy stood and wrapped her arms around Spike's neck, meeting his lips for a passionate, hungry kiss. Buffy began to back up against the other wall, running her hands over the chiseled muscles that his torn shirt was playing peek-a-boo with. He grinned against her mouth, taking this to mean that she wasn’t finished with him just yet. At least, he hoped to God she wasn’t. He took the open opportunity she gave him to shove her against the bricks, his lips sucking and nibbling eagerly at hers as he tasted himself, his large cool hands running up her sides and under her shirt.

The Slayer moaned softly as Spike’s fingers captured one hardened little bundle of nerves through her smooth satiny bra, twisting it ever so slightly. Gripping his shoulders tightly, she hoisted herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist. One hand thrust between them as Buffy made an attempt to shimmy out of her workout gear. Spike twitched as he realized what she was doing, and suddenly their whereabouts came slamming into him. No. Oh, no, not here. Here was bad!

"Buff -- no, luv, not -- baby, stop! Not here, pet, not here," he growled softly, trying to tug away. Buffy mewled loudly in displeasure and unwrapped her legs, dropping to the ground. She stared up at him, hurt and confused.

"What? Why?" she asked, her eyebrows scrunching up. Spike tilted his head down to look at her, lifting his hands and placing them firmly on her shoulders.

"Look around, Buffy-luv. This place isn’t even fit for you to spit in. You deserve better than this." He moved a hand from her shoulder to cup her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "I am not gonna bloody ravish you in a moldy, rank alley."

Buffy stopped, staring at him. He cared about where they were. He actually gave a damn about where he wanted to have sex with her. That was so unlike the Spike she expected, and yet it was everything she’d been hoping. She could’ve raped him right then and there, alley or no alley. She looked up at him, flashing a bright smile at him as her hand moved to cover his. "Ravish me, huh?" Her other hand moved down to zip up his fly.

Spike smiled down at her, his entire body relaxing as he sighed with relief. He chuckled softly and pressed his lips to hers quickly. "This is gonna sound poncy as all get out, but... I don’t know how I put up with things if you’re not around. Half the time, I’m getting my ass beat down."

Buffy grinned. "You’re right. You do sound... poncy," she teased. Spike growled playfully, poking her in the side until she was full on laughing with her head tossed back. He shook his head and grunted, pulling her up and sighing.

"Come on, luv. We best be gettin’ to patrol, lest your Watcher discovers that we were actually havin fun out here."

Buffy favored him with a pout that featured a lower lip jutting out about a foot. "Boo. I want a break." She peered up at Spike. "How mad d’you think Giles’d be if we flew shotgun to Tahiti?"

Spike snorted. "About as mad as anyone would be if the town protector flew off and left Lunchables to get eaten by the demon populace."

"Wah."

"’Sides, you know sunny days don’t really do too well for my complexion."

A long pause followed as they began walking off toward one of Sunnydale’s twelve (thirteen? fourteen?) cemeteries, their fingers touching lightly but not quite. Then Buffy piped up.

"I think you’re long overdue for a tan, Spike."

Spike growled and chased her down the road as she shrieked with laughter.

---

A week later, Dawn entered the front of the Magic Box, to the incredible not-noticing of everyone else who was either researching or sleeping. Well, Xander was really the only one who was sleeping. She didn’t want to think about why, but she could be damn sure it had something to do with Anya.

Everyone was a little on edge, especially Buffy, and for good reason. A few days before, the Watchers’ Council had done what they’d always done best: they stuck their snooty noses into Sunnydale business, as per usual, drove them through the wild runaround, and then ended their trip by informing Buffy that Glory was a god.

That pretty much reserved an uh-oh.

Needless to say, Buffy wasn't happy.

In the meantime, and she was probably being silly about this, but Dawn felt like everyone was going out of their way not to speak to her. They didn’t usually ignore her; in fact, if anything, she was friends with all of them in their own respect. But lately, every time she’d go to even look at them, they would turn their heads away or look down.

Assholes.

Of course, how was she to know that Buffy, Spike and Giles had finally told the others about her huge secret - the one she didn't even know she had? One that could end up killing them all. Buffy had seen fit to finally tell them after the Council had warned them that Glory was a hell god.

Dawn sighed and leaned against a display, only to have Anya rush at her, balking and screeching. She scowled. At least she could still get a reaction of any sort from the manic store clerk. Anya could be sweet if she really tried (when it suited her), but how the hell Xander put up with her every single waking moment was beyond her.

Wandering over to the cash register, she poked around through the little odds and ends surrounding it until she came upon an open book. Not a magic book. Journal. With really tiny handwriting -- it had to be Giles’. Xander’s handwriting resembled a car wreck. Anya’s flowed smoothly, Buffy’s was large and neat, Willow and Tara both wrote in upright cursive, and Spike had a cross between flourishing, expressive cursive and vampire punk. Besides, the only people she knew that kept journals were her, Buffy, and Giles. She hadn't snooped much through Spike's things to figure out if he did - yet. And she knew better than to leave her own journal lying around, especially at the store. Buffy barely touched hers anymore. So it had to be Giles’.

He probably has some really juicy stuff in there.

All it took was that one thought (and visions of future blackmail on the gang -- especially her sister) to get her to pick up the book. She stole into the empty training room with it, hiding it under her jacket to keep herself from being noticed. This was going to be good.

What she read when she flipped to the journal’s most recent entry was anything but good.

In fact, it was traumatizing.

She dropped the book and ran.

---

"Dawn’s missing!"

Buffy’s head jerked away from Spike and the new punching bag at Willow’s exclamation, throwing her aim off so much that she socked Spike right in the gut. He doubled over and groaned as Buffy ran to her best friend.

"What? When? How long?" she implored, grabbing the redhead's shoulders and shaking her.

"Buffy. Buffy! Stop, please! Dawn is missing, we just realized it, and we have no idea how long. But she’s gone!"

Buffy looked frantic, looking back and forth desperately between Willow and Spike, who was now standing up, rubbing his aching stomach. "Oh my god. Oh my god! We’ve gotta find her! What if Glory’s kidnapped her? What if she finds out that Dawn’s the Key? Where could she be, what could’ve made her – "

The Slayer stopped mid-tirade as she spotted a small, flat lump on the floor. Spike furrowed his brow as he watched her walk toward something near the training mats. He exchanged a glance with Willow, then walked up behind Buffy. "Luv? What is it?"

Buffy crouched and scooped up the open Watcher’s journal on the floor. Her Watcher's journal that happened to be open to the most recent entry. She stood up again, holding the notebook in both hands as she stared down at it. Willow moved up behind her, quickly reading the tiny writing in it. She put her hand to her mouth as she read the writing. Buffy looked up at Spike.

"She found out," she whispered. "She knows she’s the Key. Giles wouldn’t have left his journal in here, he’s not careless. Dawn must’ve found it and read it. There’s no other way."

Spike frowned. "Why didn’t you tell her in the first place?"

Buffy shook her head. "She wouldn’t have –"

"Understood?" Spike interrupted, scowling. "Buffy, it would’ve made a difference! It would’ve been better had she heard it from her sister, ‘stead of findin’ out from Rupert’s little diary! What the bloody hell’s wrong with you? Didn’t you realize it was gonna be traumatizin’ for her?"

Buffy gave him a sour look. "Spike, back off. You really have no right to lecture me about this, anyway, it was none of your business!"

Spike's eyes flashed and he gave her an outraged glare at her audacity. "You fuckin' bitch, you made it my business when you decided to trust me! Don’t you even fuckin’ deny it! Figure it out, Buffy! I care ‘bout the Bit, I worry ‘bout her much as you do, so don’t treat me like I don’t matter! You included me, an’ I’m here to stay! If you wanna revoke it, fine, fuck you, too! But don’t even think for a minute that the Nibblet doesn’t matter to me. She’s the only lot of you that I actually give a damn about."

With a final growl, Spike spun and left, snatching his duster up. Buffy stood in the center of the training room with Willow, staring after him in shock.

"Where does he even get off -- how - how dare he!"

Willow hazarded a glance at her friend. Yeah, Buffy sounded angry. But the look on her friend's face warranted tears. She looked hurt and guilty, and Willow knew that she’d realized that Spike was right. She really should have told Dawn the truth about who she was, and where she'd come from.

Right now, they just had to find her.

If they could.

If she even wanted to be found.





TBC.