Chapter 6 – Aftermath



“Bloody buggerin’ fuck!” Spike muttered as he rubbed his head in a misguided attempt to stop the pain. “Slayer, you’re goin’ to pay for that,” he threatened, finally mustering the strength to lift his aching noggin to treat the Slayer with his best glare.


But she was nowhere to be seen.


“Slayer!” he bellowed. “Where the bloody hell are you, you miserable bint?”


Ow. Note to self, Spike thought ruefully. Loud noises hurt.


She was gone, that much he could tell. He couldn’t feel her anywhere.


Spike cautiously sniffed the air, trying to scent her out, to discover in which direction she could’ve gone. He closed his eyes and concentrated, bringing to mind the musk he associated with this particular Slayer. The underlying stench of decay he knew as unique to Restfield Cemetery was the first thing he detected, but a lingering scent he couldn’t quite identify battled it for supremacy. If he focused his aching brain on the task, he could just make it out...


“Bloody hell!” he couldn’t help exclaiming when it hit him. That scent – that glorious odor teasing his sensitive nose – was arousal. And since the only person who’d been in the area recently besides him was...


Buffy.


Well, this was interesting. A thought his rapidly hardening cock heartily agreed with.


Based on this new – and delicious – information, he wouldn’t have to work too hard to implement his hastily developed ‘seduce the Slayer’ plan. It seemed little Buffy’s show of superiority had turned her on.


And embarrassed her, if one was to consider the fact that she had hightailed it out of Restfield without so much as a goodbye.


As the ache in his head slowly became manageable, Spike picked up Buffy’s discarded plastic cup – evil or not, he saw no sense in littering his backyard – and slowly made his way back to his crypt.


Massive amounts of alcohol, an amendment to his plan, and, possibly, a wank were in order.



--*--*--



I am such a slut, Buffy raged as she threw herself face down on her bed. Not only did I go all ‘big ho’ on Spike’s ass – literally! – but now I can’t stop thinking about it!


Buffy was not happy. She was upset – to put it mildly – with herself, with Riley, with her mom... the only person she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad at was Spike, despite the fact that he was, well, the only evil, soulless one of the bunch. He had obviously been really pissed at her for pushing him to the point where he made his chip go off, because that was totally her fault. He’d told her to get off – no, Buffy, don’t go there! – and she’d continued to grind against him like a depraved hobiscuit.


All that was left for her to do at this point was to pray that Spike hadn’t noticed. A long shot, since he was oddly perceptive at the worst possible times, but maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky this once and his vampiric sensitivities happened to be on holiday while she partook in the pleasures of his flesh...


Ugh. What was wrong with her? It’s not like she hadn’t made love with Riley the day before he left. Ok, so she hadn’t come – not even a teensy bit – but still! It had been nice and should have satisfied her. It’s not like she was really all about the sex, anyway. If her relationship with Angel had taught her anything, it was that it was fully possible to enjoy a deep, meaningful connection with another person without an intense physical relationship.


But damn, Spike had felt so good! All hard and strong beneath her, muscles staining and twisting as he’d tried to get free from her grip on his hips...


Buffy flopped onto her back and let her eyes drift shut. Of their own volition, her traitorous thoughts began tearing apart what had actually happened and reshaping it into what could have happened...


Before he could jump back to his feet, she was on him, straddling his butt and pressing the tip of the stake she’d pulled from the small of her back between his shoulder blades.


“Buffy – 1, Spike – 0, wouldn’t you say, Bleached Wonder?” Buffy leaned over to whisper teasingly in his ear, careful not to put any pressure on the stake.


“Why, Slayer, I didn’ think we were keepin’ score,” Spike drawled. “In that case...”


That was all the warning she’d get. He bucked up his hips and twisted, throwing her off. With a burst of vampiric speed, he pounced on her where she lay on her back. A strange, romantic mist covered the grass she now lay on and, somehow, her camisole’s right spaghetti strap had slid down her shoulder between the time she’d been airborne and when she’d landed. She lay there, panting, with his weight pining her into the ground.


“I’d say we’re now even at 1-1, wouldn’ you say, pet?” Spike asked, cocky smirk in place. To add insult to injury, he lightly ground his burgeoning erection into her core.


“Spike!” she protested, making a token attempt to push him off while rubbing her aching clit on his cock. “Get off of me!”


“Get off on you? Well, Slayer, I didn’t think you cared,” Spike replied. He bent down to lick his way from her collarbone to that sensitive spot beneath her ear. “I can make it so good for you...” he promised as his hand crept up her thigh and moved beneath her skirt, fingers lightly dancing across her skin towards her...


Ok, where did the skirt come from? She’d been wearing – still was, in fact – yoga pants!


Buffy sat up on her bed and shook her head in a misguided attempt to clear it of all Spike-related thoughts. There was something massively wrong with her if, in the space of twenty-four hours, she went from mildly tolerating Spike to having fairly wigsome reluctant, yet cheesy, fantasies about him.


Never one to dwell on thoughts that confused or bothered her, Buffy reached a decision. She would write a letter to Riley. Just ’cause she didn’t have his phone number in Wherever, Iowa didn’t mean she couldn’t be all concerned, loving girlfriend and write him a romantic little note. In fact, hadn’t Giles complained not too long ago that the increasing popularity of email would be the death of the proper written word? Well, she’d so prove him wrong!


One love letter to her absentee boyfriend coming up!


Right after that cold shower she’d been meaning to look into.



--*--*--



By the time he’d walked the short distance back to his crypt, Spike’s head was feeling marginally better. He’d still be consuming at least one bottle of whiskey, just to be sure, but the lingering need to give back to the Slayer as good as he’d got was waning.


In fact, he’d had a revelation.


There would be no forced seduction to relieve his loneliness. No wooing, no romancing, no reluctant calling on the remnants of his poncier side to attract the Slayer.


No, there would be nothing ‘forced’ about it. If Spike’s nose was telling the truth, Buffy would be falling into his waiting arms all on her own. He would just have to be patient and try to goad her into a repeat performance of tonight.


Sure, she’d need a couple of days to cool down – he wasn’t daft enough to think that she wouldn’t pop him one in the nose tomorrow on principle alone. But once she’d come to her senses and realized that she needed him for the release of all her excess energy as much as he needed her to ward off his boredom, she’d be back. And he’d be waiting.


But in the meantime, he now had almost an entire night to kill.


And it was only 10:30.


Bugger.



--*--*--



Dear Riley,


Well, you’re not missing much in dear old Sunnydale. No demons, boring patrols, and not much to do. I hung out with Willow and Tara today... we went to the mall! I bought the cutest shoes and a boatload of yoga pants to wear on patrol. My old pairs were getting kinda grungy.


I hope you’re having a good time back home. It must be nice to see your friends and family again! Try not to ‘psych 101’ them to much, ok?


I’ve got work with Mom tomorrow, and then maybe I’ll catch an aerobics class. The gym that just opened near the Espresso Pump is holding an open house in the evening, and who am I to say no to a free step class? Might be a nice change from weapons training and target practice with Giles!


Anyway, take care. I miss you.


Buffy




--*--*--



There, Buffy thought as she sealed the envelope. Girlfriend duty? Done!


Now off to bed. As long as her dreams didn’t betray her with images of an annoying blond vampire, she should be fine.



TBC...