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banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008

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...part XI...
.:bad buffy:.
part one of two

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Her eyes were still wide-open about an hour later. What Spike had said to her so quietly, so secretly had effectively stunned her awake.

Why? Why did he have to go and say those words now of all times, when she’d just started to get used to their very... unique situation? Dammit, Spike! she thought, craning her neck slightly to look up at the smooth, porcelain beauty of his face. Why oh why did you have to make this so difficult now?

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about him -- she did care -- sometimes too much, she thought. It was obvious in the things she did with him, and besides, it was too exhausting to keep denying it. The playful teasing, the “couple fun” innuendoes, and days ago, when Riley had stabbed him and dislocated his shoulder. She’d spent an entire hour with him the day after it had happened, strictly business -- just taking care of him, and getting him used to rotating his shoulder again. And they’d had fun. Fun was not a word she normally associated with love -- er, relationships. Not the L-word, never that. But they'd been so relaxed around each other -- they’d poked and teased at each other, talked and laughed... she’d seen a side of Spike that no one had ever been allowed to see.

She’d seen him happy.

But what if he was just leading her on? What if he didn’t really love her? Maybe he’d sensed that she'd been awake, and had said that to throw her off? What if he was just gonna keep on with this little act, until she’d completely fallen victim to him, leaving her off guard enough so that he could kill her?

And it wasn’t just that. She didn’t love him back. She didn’t know what she felt for him, but it certainly wasn't love. Loving someone meant pain as far as Buffy Summers was concerned. She'd loved her father, and the bastard had left them in the divorce anyway, refusing to even talk to them anymore. Loving Angel had meant having to kill Angel. Then getting him back, only to lose him all over again when he left for her "own good."

Please.

Loving people other than Mom, Dawn, and the Scoobies was a bad thing. Her friends and Giles had stayed with her for five years already, and Mom and Dawn, fake memories of the latter or not, had always been a part of her life and always would be.

She couldn't let Spike in.

Besides... If she didn’t love him, then he couldn’t leave her.

Except that now she knew that he was in love with her. She was infinitely sure that she didn’t love him back... maybe... but this proved a difficult situation. Could she really let Spike stay around , knowing that he loved her, and not do anything about it? Was that fair to him?

And suddenly she realized -- he hadn’t meant for her to hear. If he’d wanted to tell her he loved her, then he would’ve said so, out loud, face-to-face. Spike had never done anything less than how he meant it -- despite who he was, he wore his heart on his sleeve, and if he loved her, he would have said it to her face, when she was awake, when he knew she would hear him. Instead, he’d made sure to say it when he thought she was asleep. He’d hoped she wouldn’t hear him.

Well, this could be a good thing. Maybe it meant that he didn’t really love her. Especially since he’d had the cowardice to tell her while she'd slept.

Or maybe it was just because... he did love her, but he loved her too much... and he was scared that she'd reject him...

Ugh.

She was his complete opposite. Spike was a revered member of the Undead Citizens of Sunnydale, the oldest and most powerful Master in Sunnydale. If it got around that he was in love with the Slayer, then he’d probably be killed. Or there would at least be attempts made on his life, because honestly, if his fighting ability was anything to go by, any demon that tried to attack him might as well have a coffin and a burial plot prepared for them a week in advance.

But Spike was never a very conventional vampire to begin with. He’d always broken the rules. Hell, he was breaking them right now, simply by being with her. If he couldn’t even follow through with habit and allow it to get around that he was even more of a traitor to his kind by being in love with her, then what the hell was the point?

She was starting to suspect that the very point was that he was ashamed of his feelings for her.

And somehow that cut worse than if he’d been planning to gut her in her sleep all along.

She couldn’t work with this. She had to find a way to turn him off of her. And she would do anything -- anything -- to do it.

---

A week later, and Buffy's head was still spinning from Spike's confession.

Spike hadn't said a word to her about the 'L'-word when they woke up the morning... or afternoon -- whatever -- after the Dawn rescue. He didn't need to. His feelings were in his eyes, and they were obvious every time he looked at her. It scared Buffy more than anything, because after all these years of trying to understand vampires, everything fell flat when she was faced with Spike. How could anyone feel so much? More importantly, how could Spike feel so much? With just a glance? Not to mention without his soul?

And if Spike, without the soul could... then how was it that Angel, without his soul... couldn't?

It was too mind-boggling to understand sometimes.

She had followed Spike's cue from that night, and never said a word about what he'd said to her, choosing instead to act like everything was normal -- well, normal for her. Since the night of the Dawn Discovery, and despite her initial reservations, Spike had taken to sharing her bed with her, since she'd fight him tooth and fang about spending the night at the crypt.

Also, despite her confusion regarding Spike's feelings for her... and her feelings for him, which had now been called into question because Spike couldn't keep his damn emotions in check... she had to admit --

It felt really nice to share a bed with someone who... cared.

In fact, it was where they were now, curled against each other as they had done every night -- much to Giles' consternation when he had overheard Spike talking to Buffy about it in the kitchen.

Last night, when Spike had climbed into the bed behind her, he had wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her back against him. She had given a soft, contented sigh and snuggled into him, covering his hands with hers. They had slept like that for the better part of the night.

When her eyes opened the next morning, Buffy found herself being rolled flat on to her back, the sensation of soft, cool lips trailing against the shell of her ear, and an equally cool hand running up her thigh. Opening her eyes, Buffy looked up and was met with dancing, sparkling blue irises. Spike grinned, then ducked his head, pressing his mouth against her cheek, her chin, and her throat.

He’d woken up next to her, and the better part of an hour had been spent watching her face as she slept. Spike didn’t know how he’d managed not to revert into a primal state -- vampire, human, or otherwise -- right then and there, but he was semi-grateful to whatever self-control he had that had suppressed it. He had the feeling that if he hadn’t, he would probably have been rolled right out the window by now. He hadn’t been able to resist after a while, and his body began moving of it’s own volition, aching to kiss and touch her.

The black shirt that he had left behind at the house after they had started their affair had seemingly become Buffy's favorite night shirt -- actually, he knew it was, because she refused to take it off except when it needed washing. As it stood, she wore it tonight, to his great delight -- it was surprising how arousing it was to see Buffy wearing something of his in her sleep.

He was pretty sure she had nothing on under there.

He glanced up tentatively toward the window, noting with little surprise that the shades had already been drawn shut, save for a little slit where a tiny stream of light entered. He snorted, hoping against all hope that the thin sheet drawn across his hips was enough to keep his highly-flammable parts from combusting.

He turned his attention back to Buffy, who was gazing up at him. Her face was slightly bemused, and her eyes held a glazed sheen that made her look all the more drowsy. He placed his hand on her belly and returned to worshipping her skin with his lips.

Buffy sighed and slumped in his arms. Okay, so she wasn’t going to be breaking it off with him anytime soon especially since this was a really good thing to wake up to, like someone was preparing breakfast and was setting the measured amounts on the counter: she was the right amount of sleepy (and, frankly, horny) and Spike had just the right amount of "Dear God, I'm So Hot" radiating off of him -- and right into her with each hungry brush of his lips. And, hey, tongue. Buffy rolled to her side, pushing him back and tilting her face toward his, intent on capturing said tongue in her mouth. She was suddenly aching to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands roaming her body. It felt so wonderful when he touched her, and worrying about That Night was a hassle. In this moment, she couldn't care less.

She just wanted him.

Spike eagerly complied to her very clear request for lip-wrestling, pressing his mouth tightly against hers and pulling her close. Buffy’s arms slid around his waist, and her lips pressed back desperately, teasing and biting at his mouth until Spike was growling and overcome with want. He pushed her onto her back again, this time sliding his lithe body over hers, pressing her down gently into the mattress.

It helped immensely that Spike wasn’t a bulging, rolling heap of muscle like Angel and Riley had been. Otherwise, she might have suffocated.

“Buffy,” he muttered softly between kisses, sliding his hands slowly along her legs. Buffy moaned softly as Spike pressed against her, all-too-clearly feeling his want and need, hardening further with each passing second. As one hand grasped her waist firmly, he allowed the other to sneak under the long, black T-shirt, moving quickly up her side from her bare hip, up her bare belly, and to the bottom swell of her breast. Cupping the soft globe of flesh, his index finger and thumb affixed themselves on her nipple and gently squeezed, tugging on the tender nub. Spike’s lips covered her own, swallowing the loud moan she gave at the gratifying, but almost painful stimulation.

One long, tanned leg wrapped around his hip, and her bare foot gently nudged his rear, tugging him closer to her. Her sneaky little fingers scrabbled at the bare expanse of his chest, thinking how utterly grateful she was that Spike hadn't worn a shirt to bed tonight. Spike followed her lead, nearly tearing the shirt she still wore in his fervency to get the bloody thing off of her. Almost as soon as it had been thrown across the room, probably never to be found until six months in the future, he dove face first into her naked breasts, attaching his lips to the nipple his fingers had favored moments before and sucking fiercely. Buffy managed to clap her hand over her mouth before she let out a scream to wake the undead and grasped at the back of his head with the other, pulling him closer and closer to her.

She couldn’t get enough of him. Which was probably going to be very bad, considering she still had to tell him that he needed to back off and she couldn’t love him.

God, Buffy, you are such a fool. You don’t want to be in a relationship with him, but you still can’t get enough of his touch? Bad Buffy! Stupid, hypocritical Buffy!

Stupid voices. She willed them to shut up. Shh. Go away. Fooling around with Spike. Fight later.

Against their will, Buffy pushed the voices into the very back of her mind, far, far away where she could forget about them. If she couldn’t hear the voices, they weren’t really there.

Focused now, she pushed herself close to the vampire’s searching mouth. Suddenly frantic for the full sensation of his body against hers, her fingers moved between them, jerking his jeans apart with one sharp yank. Spike, through the red haze in his mind, vaguely realized what she was doing and conceded, allowing her to shove the jeans down his strong legs. He pulled away from her breast and forced his mouth against hers once more as he kicked his pants off of his feet and onto the ground.

Naked Spike! the (somewhat stunned) working part of Buffy’s brain informed, her inner self squealing in childish glee. She could feel his rock-hard erection pressing firmly into her thigh, so, so burningly close to her aching pussy, and her arousal doubled almost instantly. She was craving him, and it was a wonder that she hadn’t yet thrown him below her and ridden him into oblivion yet.

Actually, she didn't need to -- Spike was taking care of that part.

He couldn’t stop -- didn’t want to stop, and probably never would be able to, even if Buffy asked him. Straight-minded tunnel vision, he saw the object of his desire, and went for it.

Cool, experienced fingers found their way inside of her and Buffy had to do all she could not to scream and sob in pleasure. Spike nipped her lower lip gently, then sucked it into his mouth as he began to work her, his hand flush against her pelvic bone, his thumb running circles all around her sensitive clit before pressing right into it and rubbing. His tongue pressed against her lip, and suddenly Buffy felt him bite into it, then suck it in even further.

Yeah, like she wasn't already as wet as the Pacific -- Spike was making it worse, rather than better. Desperately, she maneuvered her hips, forcing his body to settle between her legs, the velvety tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. She kissed him heatedly, one hand on the back of his head, and wrapped her left leg firmly around his right. The other leg floundered, then arched at the knee, settling her foot firmly against the mattress. She thrust her hips up.

Spike gave a low growl and pulled away, looking down at her. Buffy looked back at him as calmly as possible, which wasn’t working too well because if he didn’t start moving within the next minute she was gonna pin him to the floor and fuck him right back to death.

Spike slowly began rotating his hips, pressing the head of his cock against her clit, refusing to enter her just yet. Buffy’s arms began to thrash and she nearly started to weep in frustration. A lock of her sweat-drenched hair fell across her brow and Spike tenderly pushed it away, pausing in his impromptu torture session. “What is it, luv? What do you want?” he asked, voce sotto.

She gazed up at him, fingers clenched in his platinum curls, her eyes wild and frenzied. “Spike, please,” she gasped hoarsely, “please, I need you inside of me."

He swallowed hard. Well, here it was. The big step. The one he'd been waiting for. Did he really want this? This was a sin, this was; his demonic body defiling the body of a Slayer? It had to be a sin to fuse God’s light with the Devil’s darkness, to completely and entirely corrupt a Slayer and divest her of her purity.

Ah, fuck it. He was a vampire, he was fucked for eternity no matter what he did. Might as well add the sexual corruption of the Slayer to the list. Not like Buffy was all that innocent, anyway.

His eyes blazed gold for one exact second as he slid into the Slayer’s body. Both eyes widened, and breathing exploded into shocked gasps.

And time actually stopped. They stared, stunned, into each other's eyes for a countless number of minutes before either reacted. It was Buffy who broke the silence, giving a low moan as her hips twitched, her inner muscles fluttering around Spike's girth.

“Spike,” she whimpered, grabbing at him convulsively.

He buried his face in her shoulder, giving one loud groan. “Oh, god, Buffy..."

So hot. Scalding, almost. Incredibly tight. Maybe he was wrong about her innocence, because she felt almost virginal. Why the hell was that? She was practically ripping the skin right off of his cock, and neither had even moved yet!

Moving. Right, he should probably do that now, even though it felt like he could come right then and there just resting inside of her. He slowly began to withdraw from her tight passage, before sliding equally slowly back in.

Oh, this wasn’t going to take long. A few more strokes, and he'd be set off like firecrackers.

Faster and faster, he began to pump, murmuring soft, tender words at first, then moving on to blissful obscenities as movements increased. Buffy’s hips arched off of her bed at each stroke, the Slayer lulled herself into a joyfully pre-orgasmic state by the feeling of entirety her lover was giving her. Moans and kitten-mews and gasps were voiced loudly as she writhed under him, thrusting her hips right back at his, their pelvises colliding with vigor.

God, he'd been enormous just looking at him, just having him in her mouth, but she hadn’t really had any idea of how big he really was until he’d buried himself in her body. She had a feeling that she now knew where half of his more dicey monikers came from.

It was so incredible, unlike anything she’d ever even felt before. He fit her completely, in every single way, his body pressed tight against hers, interlocking in all the right places, and even his cock fit her perfectly. Just the right length, right to the center, and it pushed at her belly with each thrust.

Wait -- why was she thinking of breaking things off again? She couldn’t remember. Her brain had gone on sensory meltdown as soon as Spike had started touching her. She might as well have brain damage now, because there was no possible way she was going to even remember her own name after this. All she knew right now was that she and Spike were having sex, and it was the best experience she’d ever had.

Spike snarled softly at the touch of Buffy's nails scratching down his back. If the Powers struck him down right then for banging their warrior of light, Spike would die a very happy man. He’d thought That Night - and the past week since then - had been perfect, just holding her and falling asleep with her in his arms.

This beat that by about a million to one. This was like being transported to his very own Utopia - like he could bear to touch the sun. That big stupid bleeding yellow ball in the sky had finally found the perfect way to get to Spike, transferring its light from Buffy to him, and though it was scalding him, setting him on fire, it was only in the best possible way. He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of the Slayer’s gasps, which were becoming increasingly louder and higher with each push closer to the edge.

“Yes,” she repeated, panting each time Spike’s hips slammed into her own. “Harder, more,” she begged, and each plea ignited something inside of him, making him work harder to give her the best orgasm of her life. One hand moved down slowly as his lips founds hers again, and dug between her legs, easily maneuvering to her clit. Fingering it, he forced himself to wait until his hand had finally been soaked by her juices, then pulled his mouth away from hers, lifting his hand to his face and slipping the wet fingers into his mouth. Buffy allowed an aroused moan to escape her lips before pulling his face back down to hers. Spreading her legs apart farther and lifting them over his shoulders, he pushed into her faster and harder, angling himself to find the delicate patch of nerve endings inside of her, causing her to bite at his lips in an effort to keep her cries down.

Something inside of Spike snapped when she bit his mouth and he drove his body viciously into hers, slapping his hand down over her mouth to keep the Slayer from waking up the other two women in the house. It was an ungodly time to get up, being seven in the morning, and it was a good thing that both Dawn and Joyce slept like the dead, but with Buffy's luck, they'd hear a pin drop and wake up, so as far as she was concerned, Spike's hand over her mouth was of the good.

She wiggled her body under Spike’s, then bucked harder, squeezing her muscles and strangling the cock within her. Spike’s eyes popped open and he dove down, burying his face in her neck and letting out a choked groan of pleasure as her legs tumbled down, refastening themselves around his waist.

His fingers made their way up her body, back to her nipples, and he pinched each one, forcing Buffy to give a yelp. She countered with a bite to his shoulder with her blunt teeth -- Spike drew an astounded breath before finally taking a chance and allowing his game face to appear, opening his mouth.

He attacked like a viper and slid his fangs into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, covering his own markings. Quick and painless. Suctioning his lips around the wounds, his feeding grew hungry and sensual.

The sensation overpowered Buffy -- it was true that usually a vampire’s bite hurt. But that was when they intended to kill someone. She got the feeling that killing her wasn’t particularly what Spike had in mind any more. A vampire bite during sex was supposed to equal the most intense pleasure a body had ever known. But it had never been experienced between a vampire and a willing human before. And never had that human been a Slayer.

The results?

Buffy buried her face in Spike’s neck, opening her mouth and crying out, her screams muffled by the vampire. The girl was catapulted through her orgasm as clearly as a rocket was shot from a launching pad into the outer limits of space. Her body tensed, then began to convulse, jerking spasmodically against Spike’s as her insides clutched and tightened. She grasped at him tightly, then threw her head back and let out a long, low moan as she spasmed and came hard, her juices flooding and scorching him. Spike allowed a growl to rip past his lips from the heat, and plunging his hips into hers twice more, he came, barreling right behind Buffy, his come firing into the depths of her body. His body shivered and as the last drop was expelled from him, he collapsed heavily on top of her. Weakly moaning, she allowed her legs to drop from his waist, cradling his hips between them.

Both brains were on hold for the next ten minutes, neither sure what to say other than ‘wow.’ Finally Spike looked up, staring her directly in the eyes, his expression thoughtful. He raised a hand and gently ran his thumb down her jaw until his palm cupped her chin. Shifting, he kissed her lips gently, then rolled onto his back next to her. “Go on wash up, pet,” he suggested softly, a slightly bewildered smile one his face.

Buffy couldn’t resist a grin at the tone of his voice. He sounded as though he’d just been shown the ancient hidden treasures of King Tut. Not greedy -- just extremely awed, and amazed.

Also, his voice was cracking. Haha. Spike’s going through puberty again.

She took his advice and stood up, looking for her robe and wrapping it around her when she found it. Buffy fumbled her way toward the bathroom, then securely locked the door behind her. She turned to look at herself in the mirror.

The realization of what had happened hit her as soon as she saw her reflection.

She sighed and clapped her hands over her eyes. “Shit. I just had sex with Spike."

This was definitely not going to help things along.

---

Glory rolled her eyes as she lay on the couch in her apartment, her foot lolling about. Needless to say, the goddess was supremely annoyed. “He’s getting stronger. I’m losing him. I’m losing control of him!” She pulled both legs up and threw them across the arm of the sofa, nearly kicking two of her demon lackeys, Jinx and Murk. Despite nearly being knocked unconscious by a pair of bright red Gucci pumps, Jinx gazed at her with eyes of adoration.

“You're speaking of Ben, most glamorous yet tasteful one?” he asked.

It really was quite amazing how the disgusting little blobs flattered her. Glory glared at him. “He stabbed you in your body,” she grumbled.

Murk held his hand up, as if asking permission to speak. “Jinx is all right, your highness. And we do have the new knowledge that the key is a human being.”

Glory grumbled and sat up, gazing at the foul little beast. “If time runs out on us and all we're left with is info? Then we're screwed,” she informed. Right. Like the morons understood that.

“Oh, surely not!” Jinx cried, beginning the first wave attempt at comforting the goddess.

Glory shook her head quickly, her blonde curls going everywhere as she leaned back. “No, we’re screwed!"

“But you are a god! The sacred Glorificus!” Murk said, joining in with the effort.

Glory sighed. “I’m a god in exile. Far from the hellfires of home and... sharing my body with an enemy that stabs my boys in their,” she paused momentarily, poking Jinx in his stomach, causing the demon to wince and groan in pain. “Fleshy little stomachs."

She leaned back once again, ignoring Jinx, and closed her eyes. “Ugh! I’m in pain!"

“How can we help?” Jinx asked quickly. “We will lay down our lives!"

Glory stopped for a moment, tilting her head as she pondered the question. Then she stood up and looked around at her minions. “The Slayer and the Key are connected. She's going to have contact with it. For all I know it could be those stupid witch bitches, her freak boyfriend with that radioactive hair, or that exasperating little sister of hers. I don't care -- but I do know that it has to be someone in her circle. Watch her. Find out who she cares for most."

Murk nodded hastily. “We can do that O... thou.” A confused look appeared on his face at his last word. It was clear that he’d run out of steam in preparation for a new term of endearment.

Glory continued, gaining speed. “I want to hear about everyone she has contact with! That girl has my Key --” The demons instantly bowed their heads, “-- and I’m trusting you boys to get it for me. If you love me...” The demons looked up again, eyes filled with devotion to the goddess. “... get it for me."

The monks looked back at each other, smiles wide on their ugly little faces. Glory smirked.

Those ugly little scabs were so... helpful.

---

“I had sex with Spike. I had sex... with Spike. Spike and I had sex. Oh, boy."

No matter how many times she said it, it still wouldn't entirely sink in. And if she wasn’t careful, Buffy was going to find herself a nice little VIP spot on the Wall of Insanity. It was bad enough that she’d been doing this mentally from the moment Spike left this morning. She’d come out of the bathroom with the true meaning of ‘dazed and confused’ spray-painted all over her face. After they’d dressed, Buffy had ushered Spike as quickly and quietly down the stairs as she could, and had begun to lead him toward the kitchen, only to be stopped short by the sound of pans banging together against the stove.

Shit! Mom!

She backtracked, yanking Spike toward the foyer and looked at him, wide-eyed. “How fast can you run?” she asked. He gave her a Look, then rolled his eyes and bared his fangs as an answer, interpretation being, “Duh. Vampire."

Buffy looked down sheepishly. “Right,” she muttered. “Look, if you don’t want to go poof, you’re gonna need to be like a gunshot, Spike. Are you going to use the tunnels or just run straight to the crypt?"

Spike shot her his lower lip. “Why can’t I just stay in the basement till nightfall?"

She glared at him. “Because my mom actually goes in the basement, and she would find you. Easily. And then she’ll wonder why you’re here, and I don’t particularly feel like explaining to her that when you spent the night this time, we woke up... doing things to each other."

Spike grinned, a full eye-crinkling, teeth-baring grin. “Is that how you're referrin' to it, Slayer? Cuz usually I just call it --"

Her hand slammed down over his mouth. “Not another word out of you if you wanna make it home with everything on your body intact and in correct working order."

Spike casually ran his tongue over her palm, smiling when he felt Buffy shudder and a small thrum of desire bolt through her. She took her hand off his mouth and he grabbed it, then wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’s all right, luv. I’ll go, an’ you won’t have to explain a thing to your dear old mum. An’ if she happens to see me, just let her know that I came to check up on you an’ the Nibblet. Right, pet?” He touched her chin, lifting her face up to meet his gaze. Buffy nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip. Spike ducked his head a bit, touching his lips to hers quickly. “Don’t need to tell anyone, pet. ‘S just between you an’ me.” He pulled away and Buffy nodded again.

Like she’d been planning on telling anyone anyway. She’d just fucked her mortal enemy/ally/sometime-comrade -- in her bed!

As opposed to fucking him off the bed, right, Buff?

Goddamn that stupid sarcastic inner voice. Shut up! she yelped, firmly shoving it away.

She watched at the door as Spike stepped onto the porch, gathered his duster over his head, then took off down the street, stopping at a sewer entrance, lifting the lid and jumping into the tunnels below. She giggled to herself. Spike was the only vampire she knew who ran around town under the sun, despite the whole "ouch" factor in his regards.

Actually... Spike was the only vampire she knew personally. That had stayed in Sunnydale, anyway.

Shaking her head, she’d turned back into the house, and gone about her business, all the while cursing herself.

“He’s in love with you, and you sleep with him when you say you want to turn him off of you,” she chided herself. And it went on like that for the rest of the day. Buffy ranted and raved, cursing at herself for her stupidity.

Horny!Buffy, the part of her that had taken over when Spike had started the entire situation, finally replied to the contradicting voices that she had shoved to the back of her brain. That is enough! You wanted it, and you know it -- stop acting like a child!

Okay, true. She had wanted it. But she hadn’t been entirely in control of her body then. She hadn’t had sex in a while. All she and Spike had been doing was fooling around orally. Actual penetration was a completely different thing, something Buffy had been lacking for a bit. She hadn’t meant to give in to Spike.

Even though it had been an earth-shattering encounter. Especially when he’d sunk his teeth --

Ack! No! Bad Buffy! No thinking of the evil vampire and the bities!

This was not good.

Actually, it was good, but in a very different context than she would’ve preferred it to be. Thoughts of Spike were taking over her mind, when she should have been concentrating more than ever on Glory. The goddess was getting closer and closer to finding out the truth, and that was so beyond the realm of everything good and bad. She was not going to let someone she loved, someone innocent, get hurt, all because she couldn’t keep her hands off of a pushy, gorgeous vampire.

That did it. She had to be serious this time. She wasn’t going to let Spike take over. She was going to be strong, and selfish for the right reasons. And as much as she wanted him to be, Spike was not the right reason. Dawn was. Her mother was. Giles, Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara were.

She was not going to jeopardize the lives of the countless innocents the world over just for Spike.

No matter how much it hurt.




Continued in part 2...