banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008
...part I...
.:feelin' pretty damn good:.
Harmony watched quietly (for once), gripping her crossbow. It was a little weird watching that queer, funny smelling little doctor stitching up Spike’s head while he was awake. She began to fidget. Hurry UP, I’m hungry! she whined mentally. Spike had threatened all kinds of bodily harm to her if she didn’t be quiet for the remainder of the surgery.
Spike, meanwhile, was glowing – a fairly incredible feat for someone who’d been dead for over 120 years.
"Listen to me. My stomach’s growlin’, I’m so starved." The doctor’s eyes widened as he applied the bandage to the back of Spike’s head. "I’m afraid I’m gonna have to have me a little snack." Without trying to decipher who the vampire was thinking of for the snack, Overheiser knew, and he gulped audibly. Spike smirked to himself – just the reaction he wanted. Fear. He turned his head and peered at him over his shoulder, cold, sparkling blue eyes glinting dangerously with hints of gold.
"Oh, don’t worry," he began in his (extremely bad) attempt at being reassuring. "I won’t fill up on bread. I’ll still have plenty of room for the main course." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, said course kicked open the door and stood there, a cold look on her face. Spike’s eyes narrowed. Captain Cocksucker was right behind her. Never mind him, the demon ordered. He’d let Harm drain the stupid prick later. Right now, that luscious, nummy little Slayer was waiting for him... and he couldn’t WAIT to sink his teeth into that silky smooth, elegant, creamy neck...
"Slayer!" he growled, eyeing her neck lustfully as he jumped off the operating table. Harmony ran to his side, readying the crossbow. Buffy and Riley positioned themselves, facing off against the two vamps. Overheiser’s eyes widened in fear, and he tried to make his way around the four, scrambling for the exit. He heard, rather than saw, Spike’s bones shift as his game face appeared, and shuddered when the Master vampire let out a growl.
"Suit up, Harm," the bleach blonde ordered, his voice muffled slightly as he spoke around his fangs. Harmony promptly responded, her own features falling away into her demonic visage. Buffy watched for a moment, her gaze falling first on the younger vampire, then Spike, before spinning around and grabbing Overheiser before he could make it up the steps.
"Stay here," she muttered, shoving him to the ground. "We’re gonna need you."
Spike focused on the bane of his existence, for once trying to keep the smug, saucy grin from appearing on his face. He bounced gently on his heels, trying to contain his excitement.
Finally.
"Buffy. I swear, I was just thinking of you. I wanted to tell you the great news. My head’s all clear now. No more bug-zapper in my noggin." Buffy favored the bloodsucker with a tight glare.
"That means I get to kill you," she ground out. Spike smirked. That was the little bitch he loved to hate.
"You get to try," he replied haughtily. He was the Big Bad again. Not even the Slayer could touch him anymore. Of course, he thought, eyes trailing over Buffy’s golden, agile body, the chip can’t stop me from touching her...
Everything was quiet for a minute, each team sizing the other up, but neither side daring to make the first move until it was Harmony, as per usual, who broke the silence. A loud SPROIING! sounded, followed by a dull thwack! Buffy’s head shot around, her eyes widening as she saw where the bolt had landed – right in Riley’s right thigh. Riley didn’t even seem to notice. Harmony glanced down at the crossbow, then back up at Riley meekly (which was actually quite an amusing sight to see in her game face). Spike sighed. And I expected anything more of her?
"Oops," Harm squeaked, having at least the grace to look sheepish – as best she could, anyway. Spike grinned internally when he saw the rage that flashed across his little Slayer’s face. FUCK, yes!
The burlap sack lumbered toward Harmony as Spike watched, and yanked the crossbow away from her. Unfortunately for him, as he was distracted by that, he failed to notice Buffy following her boyfriend. He turned his head back just in time for Buffy’s fist to meet his face.
Riley threw Harmony down on the table, then picked her up again and threw her into the wall. Several pieces of equipment suffered from the impact, clattering, rattling, and dropping to the ground.
Spike, meanwhile, had become Buffy’s living (well, unliving) punching bag. Her fists met his face in rapid succession, each time pushing him closer and closer to the table. He grunted and stumbled back against it. His eyes gleamed in absolute, unadulterated bliss. There was NOTHING he liked better than fighting Buffy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Army Boy punch Harm, then toss her across the room before leaning back against the counter, gasping. Spike raised an eyebrow. Hmmm...
Harm recovered quickly and shoved a wheeled chair in his path. Spike snorted and tried to hold in a laugh when the meat-head tripped and went down. Harmony launched herself at him, kicking him in the face.
Spike returned his focus to the Slayer, jumping onto the table and grinning down at her. He paused for a second, when he realized his new position gave him quite a view down Buffy’s blouse. Shaking himself out of the one little world that vampires were NOT supposed to tread path on, he snarled softly. He could hear and see Riley and Harmony still going at it, but they were on the other side of the room. And, as he let his eyes rove over Buffy’s petite little body again, he knew that he had been waiting too damn long for this moment.
"At long last," he growled, leaping at Buffy and carrying her down with him to the ground. He straddled her and pinned her hands above her head. His knees and thighs squeezed a vice grip around her legs, effectively spoiling any of her attempts to kick or punch him off. He took a long while and stared at her, hungry and power-driven. Slayer’s blood was the strongest on the face of the earth, and as he listened to it rushing, surging through her veins as she bucked and struggled underneath him, he found himself wanting it more than anything.
But as he looked more closely upon the young beauty, he found that he wanted something more than her blood as well. He wanted her.
Buffy’s head jerked to the side, glaring at her captor furiously, and Spike’s figurative breath caught in his throat. Fuck.
Now THAT was a picture. A sweaty, flushed, angry, writhing, DELICIOUS looking Slayer, bucking and twisting right under him. It didn’t help that she kept bucking up against him and making their hips rub together. And those cute little grunts she kept making weren't doing much to help him, either.
She finally stopped fidgeting and glared up at him with enough hostility in her eyes that not even Donald Trump would have dared to cross her. Trying to get loose had proven to be a difficult task. Now that Spike was chipless, the metal immobilizer wasn’t gonna come in and... well, immobilize him. The vamp could put as much pressure as he wanted on her, and nothing would happen. He had an iron grip on her, and he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. Her chest was heaving, her pulse was racing, her breathing was completely haywire, and a fine sheen of sweat had settled comfortably over her cleavage. He lifted his gaze then and licked his lips, and Buffy was momentarily stunned by what she saw there – lust. Her stomach refused to do the ‘roll over and churn’ reflex and it horrified her. What the hell was going on?!
He watched, captivated, as her pulse began to quicken. The sound of her heartbeat was drawing itself out and pounding in his ears, driving him absolutely crazy with desire. The vein in her neck was throbbing uncontrollably and Spike’s own body was starting to respond in kind. He was enraptured. The scent of her sudden fear that he’d detected wafting up from her fragrant body was amazing. But those weren’t the only things about her that had captured his attention. What really had him enthralled was Buffy herself.
She noticed his distraction and, fueled by her fear of her lack of nausea at her body’s reaction to his, she bucked like a bronco underneath him, trying to throw him off. She froze completely when, instead of cursing and smacking her, Spike let out a low groan of pleasure. He ducked his head and inhaled the wonderful scent her body was emitting, nudging his face gently into the crook of her neck. She tensed immediately, then frantically began trying to kick him off. Spike let out a soft growl, and Buffy stilled at the sound of it, the commanding tone of it stunning her into obeying him. His hips bucked against hers once. One hand trailed down her body, while the other continued to tightly clasp her wrists above her head. The free hand slid down the center of her chest before moving to the right and gently cupping her breast. Buffy’s eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped as she gasped, her body unconsciously arched at Spike’s touch. Spike purred softly, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.
"Slayer," he rasped, before tilting his head down. His moist, cool tongue slid out and made a path from the sensitive spot behind her ear, all the way down to her throat, licking along the vein erotically. Buffy attempted to call out to Riley, but his name never made it past her lips. Instead, she felt her nipples harden and a soft whimper escape her throat, her eyes wide in surprise. Whoa. This was new.
Spike’s hand moved away from the Slayer’s firm, pert breast and slid down between her legs, spreading them. He situated himself between them, his erection becoming harder as soon as he felt the heat from her center through her jeans. He felt her shudder and heard her emit another whimper at the feel of his cock against her, and he smiled to himself.
Spike had never followed the rules before. He wasn’t gonna start now. The Slayer was in his arms, willing and vulnerable.
She was making him hard.
He was making her wet.
All in all, he felt pretty damn good right now.
He bent down and licked her neck again, dragging the tip of his tongue slowly across her pulse point. His hips began moving of their own accord, and slowly began to thrust against her. Buffy moaned softly and stared up at him with glazed eyes.
"Spike?" she whispered weakly, her voice bordering on disbelief and fascination. He replied with another soft purr, and another thrust against her pussy, and Buffy rolled her head to the side, dazed by his ministrations.
And that’s when he saw them – two faint, jagged, vicious looking puncture scars on her neck. He sniffed at them for a moment, before recognizing the scent around them.
Angel.
He growled in anger.
It figured. Bastard always had to have them first.
Something overcame him at the thought of his Slayer and his Sire, and he grasped the girl firmly. He attacked her neck, biting down viciously. Holding on firmly to her hips and pressing himself tightly against her, he clamped onto her wound like a leech, sucking hungrily. Buffy let out a squeak when she felt him pierce her skin, and that should have been a clue for her to pull away and beat the tar out of him. But the anger in his attack had disappeared.
Now he was holding her to him, suckling her blood slowly and sensually, and it all had nothing short of a possessive manner. The pain soon dissipated and her body became flooded with excitement. The things he was doing to her... they could never be matched by anyone else. She tentatively thrust up under him, still mostly in control of her mind, then gave him another, more confident thrust. She writhed against him like a bitch in heat, straining to feel more of that enormous bulge in his pants pressed against her.
Spike’s nostrils flared as he smelled her arousal, and his eyes widened in awe; she was enjoying this. And she was responding to him. Holy fuck. He had a heap of difficulty trying to contain the roar of pleasure that made an escape attempt when the girl began grinding against him, and... oh, fuck, he was so hard he was gonna burst if he didn’t get inside of her. And her blood... oh, her blood was amazing. He’d never tasted any like THIS before. At his first taste, he’d sensed her
darkness, her light, her own strengths and weaknesses, and her very essence combined in it. Rich, thick, delicious, aromatic, heavenly, extremely potent Slayer’s blood...
Buffy's blood.
"Mine," he growled softly between swallows, intent on drinking as much of the nectar as he could without killing her. He couldn’t kill her now. Not after how his body had responded to hers, and vice versa. No way was he gonna let this girl die.
This was so different from Angel. Angel had practically torn her up. His demon had surfaced and clouded his judgment, wanting for him to do nothing more than drain her of life. Spike... Spike was making this all erotic. God help her, but she was gonna die if he wasn’t inside her soon. But... her vision was starting to waver. And she was... really starting to feel sort of... faint...
((BAM!))
Spike let out a howl of pain and pulled off of Buffy, who let out a soft, weak moan before her head rolled to the side and she passed out. His eyes widened when he saw her, then spun around, snarling, to see who’d attacked him. His mouth dripping with crimson, he shot up as he came face to face with the angry glare of one Special Agent Riley Finn. Holding a steel chair.
Dumbass.
Spike shot him a bloody, fangy grin, and contentedly began licking the blood off of his lips, looking for all the world the cat who’d just ate the canary. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he stopped when he caught sight of the fainted Slayer, two tiny little streams of blood trickling out of her wounds, her head tilted to the side. Spike tilted his head, studying her, and felt his body respond accordingly to her position. Spread legs, flushed face, sweaty, mouth open...
Oh, damn... she looks...
((BAM!))
Riley had hit him again.
"Get away from her, Spike," the boy growled in what Spike assumed was a threatening manner. "Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend!" Spike’s tongue casually slid out and licked the last trickle of crimson out of the corner of his lips hungrily, before he hauled off and slammed his fist into the frat boy’s face, knocking him down. He growled in pleasure, tossing his head back and laughing. No fucking pain; hell yes.
"My chip's gone now, boy. An' believe me, I have no qualms against twisting your thick, beefcake neck around. So if you ever presume to play the poncy hero, and have the balls to tell me what to do, 'll take great pleasure in makin' sure you don' ever feel quite up to snuff with tryin' it again. Got me?" Spike chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't imagine yourself as her hero, Cardboard. She don't need one. You're lookin' at the hero of the soddin' tale right there. She can handle herself just fine."
Riley struggled to get up, glaring hatefully at the unconventional master vampire. He attempted to lunge at him, but his heart suddenly pulsed, and he let out a loud gasp, grabbing at his chest and giving a loud groan of pain.
"Spikey, come on! Hurry up!" Harmony yelled. She had a clean cut going straight down her arm, and was waiting at the door, clutching slightly at the wound, eyes wide. Spike grunted and smirked, walking calmly over to the doctor, who’d remained on the ground during Spike’s entire interaction with the Slayer, wide-eyed and shocked at the display. Spike’s face reverted back to human form, and he stared at Overheiser with his amazingly human blue eyes. He motioned to the two humans.
"Help ‘em," he ordered. Overheiser nodded quickly and scrambled over to them, knowing better than to piss off such a powerful - and already pissed off - Master vampire. Spike smirked and swaggered up the steps. He wasn’t gonna kill the Slayer. Not now. Maybe not ever, but most definitely not now. And having Soldier Boy around would just make it even more fun. Stealing his girl, right in front of him; seducing her away and making him watch every second of it... Spike grinned.
He looked back, staring at Buffy lustfully, hungrily.
As it was... the minute he got home...
He was gonna pound Harmony into the ground.
Spike’s head lolled slightly to the side. He snorted softly in his sleep. A loud bang erupted from entrance to the crypt, and he shot straight up, his eyes snapping open. He tested the air until he recognized the scent of his visitor, then sighed and stood up when Buffy stormed in. He shot her a slight smirk.
"Should’ve known it’s you. Been nearly six hours."
Buffy glared at him. "Well, it would’ve been less if I wasn’t busy cleaning up your mess."
Spike gave her a gaze that suggested indignation and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, rocking back on the heels of his feet. "My mess? I just borrowed the doc, an’ he’s lucky I didn’t eat him. The mess is yours, Slayer. Yours and the boy’s." It really figured. The Slayer, just barging into his home, trying to put everything on him, as usual. She just didn’t know when to quit. He eyed her quietly, noticing his mark on her otherwise flawless skin. A shock of excitement surged through his body and a slow grin spread across his face.
"So, how’d you like what happened earlier, luv? You enjoy it as much as I thought you did?" The look on Buffy’s face went from angry to mortified, then back to anger within a second. "I mean, I’m a vampire. I could smell it, even if you deny it, baby. Is that what this little visit is for, then? You’ve come to get more from the Big Bad?" He grinned wickedly. "Or did you just wanna see how big an’ bad I really am?" Buffy’s face flushed and she shrank away for a second, then came back with more confidence.
"I’m done," she muttered, shaking her head. She took a stake from her back pocket and advanced on him. Spike raised an eyebrow in surprise. Whoa. He sure hadn’t expected THAT (note the sarcasm.) Especially not after how she’d responded to him earlier. An image of a very nude Slayer suddenly flashed before his eyes and he tried to keep a groan from escaping. Her moans and whimpers from earlier infiltrated his brain and he mentally slapped himself to pay attention to what was happening now. Buffy didn’t even notice his inner conflict. Her gaze never wavered.
"Spike, you’re a killer. And I shoulda done this years ago." Spike stared at her and sighed. She wasn’t gonna even play around with him. She just wanted to kill him. The thought irritated him more than usual, and suddenly he was sick of the Slayer. All previous images of her, bucking underneath him and crying out in the throes of passion from an orgasm he’d brought upon her vanished and he was disgusted. What the hell was wrong with him? Lusting after the Slayer? Was he looking for a death wish?
Fine. If she wanted to kill him, fine. He wasn’t gonna fight it. At least, if he was dead for good, she wouldn’t drive him so crazy anymore. He’d be free of her.
He gazed at her and finally shrugged, looking her in the eye.
"You know what? Do it. Bloody just do it." Buffy looked bewildered.
"What?" Spike was giving in? That was... impossible. He was just going to sit back and let her kill him, without a fight? And he COULD fight her now. But why wouldn’t he? Spike stared at her meaningfully.
"End... my... torment. Seeing you, everyday, everywhere I go, every time I turn around." Spike paused slightly, realizing just how true his words were. Everywhere he went, the Slayer haunted him, her cheeky little smile penetrating his mind. He’d once even hallucinated, and thought he’d seen her, standing at the side of his sarcophagus one morning, her hand resting on his chest, with no stake. He continued. "Take me... out of a world... that has you in it!" He grasped his shirt and jerked it off, baring a pale but strong, smooth, compactly muscled torso. He tossed the shirt behind him and presented himself to her. He knew he was being overly dramatic, but he didn’t care. Just as long as it ended in his death. "Just kill me!"
Buffy blinked once or twice, thrown a little off track by the sight of his chest, then stared into his eyes. Whoa. He... couldn’t really mean it... could he? The look on his face was completely serious. Oh, fuck, he does mean it. She bit her lip, and debated with herself for a second before taking a chance. Then she raised her stake and lunged at him. She saw him tense and wince, waiting for the final blow from her that would end him. He didn’t even close his eyes. Fortunately for him, Buffy realized what she was doing, and froze before she could finish the task.
I can’t. I can’t kill him. I can’t do this. Why can’t I do this? she thought, blinking furiously to keep from crying. What? Crying? Now she was preparing to cry over Spike? Jesus Christ. Spike caught her eyes and held her gaze. She looked completely lost and confused, not knowing what to do with herself. And suddenly, the feelings for her that he’d fought against earlier came flooding back. Desire welled up inside of him and he drew in a sharp breath. Whatever this was, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted her. He had to have this girl, had to hold her, touch her, taste her...
He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to him, not even thinking as he pressed his lips to hers feverishly. Buffy whimpered and clutched his forearms, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Spike groaned softly, drawing the girl flush against him, trying frantically to clutch at every part of her at once, refusing to let her go.
Well, until Buffy jerked away with her hand over her mouth, wide-eyed and horrified. Trembling slightly, she stared at Spike, and he licked his lips, staring back at her. They were both panting heavily despite Spike’s lack of need for air. His eyes flickered to her hands. The stake was gone.
But...
Another could appear at any second. He watched her apprehensively, expecting her to lunge at him and rip his head off, or possibly something worse. So when Buffy dropped her hand and walked back to him, he was understandably nervous.
Nervousness disappeared the second Buffy put her hands on the back of his head, pulling him toward her and assaulting him with another lustful, passionate kiss. Spike wrapped his arms around her tightly, clutching her with greedy fingers. His lips trailed away from hers, brushing over her cheek and moving down to her neck. When his icy lips pressed against her skin, Buffy let out a soft moan and arched into him.
"Oh, god... Spike... I want you," she panted, her eyes closed and her fingers grasping at his hair and his body convulsively. Spike buried his face in her neck, kissing, licking, and nuzzling his mark. Not biting. Just cuddling.
"Buffy, I love you," he murmured softly. Buffy pulled back, and stared up at him, eyes lighting up and staring at him in disbelief. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, smiling affectionately when she smiled and leaned into it. His heart welled up. "God, I love you so much," he finished with a whisper.
Spike’s eyes popped open and he bolted straight up in bed with a gasp. His gaze shot to the female form next to him, and his upper lip curled in dismay when he realized it was Harmony. He looked around wildly, thinking someone was playing a major practical joke on him, just waiting to leap out at him and club him over the head or something. He looked down at his lap and raised his eyebrows when he noticed the tent in the blanket his hard-on had apparently pitched in his sleep. He looked around again, frowning as he recalled his dream... the words he’d said... the feelings he’d had.
He’d told Buffy he loved her.
"Oh, fuck," he sighed, putting his face in his hands and groaning. Then he looked up at the ceiling and scowled.
"You’ve got to be kidding me."
The Powers just had to kick a bad ass when he was down, didn’t they?
Several blocks over, Buffy rolled out of Riley’s grasp and sighed, staring blankly at the wall. She shivered slightly as the cool air from her window blew over her naked body through the sheets. When they’d gotten back to her house after Riley’s mini-surgery, she’d practically torn him apart to rid her body of the lustful feelings she was having. Riley had pretty much been horrified at her actions, stunned and a little fearful that his "sweet, innocent" Buffy was capable of some of the things she’d displayed that night.
He was out like a light after the first round.
Stupid lightweight.
The fact that it had been Spike that had given her these feelings by rubbing and grinding into her was more than a little freaky.
But God help her, it felt good.
Her hand unwittingly reached up and caressed her newest scar. The wound was still tender, having only been opened six hours earlier (and when she’d taken a look at them in the mirror after her shower, she’d noted with a hint of amusement that Spike had placed his mark directly over his grandsire’s). Thanks to her accelerated healing, they were now nothing more than two small pink bumps. But for some reason, they were affecting her a bit more than the others had.
The Master – Spike’s great, great grandsire – had bitten her to escape from his lair and to wreak havoc on the surface. That had caused her nothing but pain and her (really, really short) death.
The Master's grand Childe (Angel) had marked her in his own vicious way, nearly draining her to cure the poison in his body. THAT had been a major bitch. It had still hurt, long after it had healed, not just physically, but emotionally as well, for obvious reasons.
Dracula had been mercifully kind when he'd bitten her. He'd smelled Angel's scent over the mark, and he'd ignored it – apparently, he and Angelus had never been on very good terms. Dracula was strange, but he hadn't been as psychotic as the darker Irish vampire. Dracula had bitten her because she'd intrigued him. Maybe he'd sensed something familiar about her or something. He'd wanted to show her the extent of her powers. So he'd held her under thrall.
But Spike's mark...
... was driving her absolutely up the wall, for one thing. They kept tingling and dancing and making her body shiver.
These marks, for some reason, held more power over her than even Dracula's thrall had. It was...
Weird.
And what was with him earlier? He'd bitten her and had been a little violent about it – he must've sensed Angel's presence in the scar. He hadn't minded the elder vampire until Angelus came into play and had begun sleeping with Drusilla. But after the initial puncture had been made, he'd been a little tender about it, sucking as gently as possible. And GOD, the feel of his body against hers...
Was so beyond wrong it wasn't even funny! Her eyes widened in alarm and she mentally smacked herself. Bad Buffy! There will be NO lusty thoughts of Sp – of anyone! No one! No one at all! she chided herself.
Didn't matter that he'd immediately zeroed in on her weak spot. Didn't matter that everything he'd done had completely turned her on. Didn't matter that he'd made her feel things that nobody else could or had. Didn't matter that he'd been getting off on it, too, grinding that big (massive, humongous, gigantic) erection against the apex of her legs in just the right -
STOP that! she yelped mentally, positively terrified by the direction her thoughts were taking.
Holy Christ. This was bad. Very, very... bad.
Bad. Big bad.
Spike was the Big Bad. A big bad with a knack for finding her pleasure spots. Bad, bad, very bad Spike. Naughty Spike. Dirty, lewd, naughty Spike – oh.
GAH!
What the hell was she thinking?!
She cuddled up to her mattress, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her head, as if that would make the very wicked Buffy thoughts go away magically. Scrunching away from Riley, she made the extremely difficult first steps to falling asleep. Trying to ignore the sudden image of a pair of penetrating azure eyes and a cocky smirk. Trying to feel revolted at the sudden urge to cover those smug lips with her own. Trying to ignore HIM.
Riley grunted softly in his sleep and fidgeted slightly, the sheet wrapping around his foot. That somewhat provided a distraction from the extremely annoying presence hovering around her, and she sighed, refusing to look at him. The stubborn dumbass would've been dead by now if it hadn't been for her. Buffy sighed and shifted away when his arm made an attempt to wrap around her. She was so beyond irritated with him. He'd actually thought she was so petty as to believe that the only reason she wanted to date him was because of his borrowed vampiric strength. He was insecure enough to think that she'd dump him if he didn't measure up to Angel's, or even Spike's standards, for Christ's sake!
Suddenly, everything was competition with him. If he couldn't keep up with, or exceed her, he would get kicked to the curb. If she didn't love him so damn much, he'd be on an unscheduled ass-kicking back to Iowa!
She sighed. And if he wasn't just getting over the surgery, she'd be seriously considering giving them a time out until he got some sense back into his head. But she couldn't do that now. Because he needed her. As... pressuring as that was.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, her thoughts drifted right back to Spike.
And she felt her stomach do flip-flops.
THAT was disturbing. Since when did her stomach do flip-flops because of Spike? Had to be the... Her eyes widened. The bite marks.
She nearly fell off the bed with her realization.
Spike had bitten her. He'd had her. But she wasn't dead.
Why wasn't she dead?
He could've EASILY killed her! She'd been wide open (she blushed), vulnerable, and he was back to his Big Bad self again without the chip. He could've easily drained her or ripped her throat out, and bagged his third Slayer. But despite all his fronting and bravado about killing her the second he wasn't under government technological supervision... she was still alive. He drank from her, and she was still alive.
She touched the mark again and shivered.
She had an odd feeling about this...
Spike yawned and stumbled around the crypt. He was alone; he'd sent Harmony through the tunnels to terrorize the people at the butcher shop, much to her confusion ("You're CHIP–LESS now, why do you still want that icky bagged blood?") He'd shrugged. He didn't know. It was probably just instinct, or... routine. Yeah. That. Anyway, he'd suddenly become threatening when she'd lingered too long, and cursed and bitched at her if she didn't get the hell out of the crypt right then. She'd run off in a fright. As a vampire, she knew better now than to argue with her elder.
The truth was, he desperately needed time alone to think. With Harmony around, buzzing about like a goddamn gnat, it was easier said than done. Thoughts of Bu – er, the Slayer had been plaguing him all of last night, and all of this morning. Ever since the little incident at the office, and the dream he'd had, Buffy had been poking in and out of his head routinely every two minutes or so.
He was THIS CLOSE to ripping his head off.
Why the HELL was she affecting him this much? He couldn't love her. It was impossible, bad ass vampires did NOT fall in love with the Slayer! If anyone found out, he could be killed!
Okay. What the hell did I do for her to have this much affect on me? Lessee... Snarked off at her, fought her... practically fucked her on the ground... no, that was fun. Er... bit her... claimed her... got hit in the head with a chair by Cardboard... ran off back home.
Wait a second. One of those didn't seem right.
Claimed her.
Spike's eyes widened.
"Oh bloody fuck. I claimed the Slayer!" Then he paused. "I claimed the Slayer."
Something about that sounded REALLY good. He grinned.
"I claimed the Slayer -- an' she let me." Let was a strong word. She... didn't actively participate in stopping him. There. That was better. "Bloody hell." Still. This was priceless!
He hadn't meant to do it. It had all been an unconscious effort. The word 'mine' had simply slipped out while he'd been drinking her, and that definitely explained the damn tingling he got. She wasn't fully his, though. In order for his claim to be legit, she'd have to admit it, then exact her own claim on him.
He'd never claimed a human before. The sensations were weird. And now to figure out that the human he'd claimed was also the Slayer he ... gulp... loved...
"Bloody marvelous," he breathed (figuratively, of course).
Seducing her away from Finn, though, was going to be easier than he'd thought.
And a hell of a lot more fun, too.
TBC.