He approached the mausoleum silently, his finely tuned senses alert for danger. Spike could feel the Slayer within, along with the presence of three vampires—all young, two little more than mere fledglings. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of his beloved along with that of the whelp, Captain-bloody-Cardboard, and the other; he was still certain that it was familiar, that he knew from somewhere but just couldn’t quite place. So it looked like he had more than just Buffy to rescue. He wondered briefly if he could get away with NOT rescuing the sodding soldier-boy, but quickly decided that Buffy would not be too happy with him if he made that particular executive decision.  

He neared the entrance to the mausoleum; through the gap in the door, he could just make out Buffy chained to the back wall, her arms stretched painfully above her head, tear-tracks marking her face.  The rich scent of her blood hung in the air. He narrowed his eyes, trailing a clinical gaze down the Slayer’s body, searching for whatever wound was the source of the powerful blood hanging tantalisingly on the night air. As his eyes drifted down, he could clearly see her badly battered and torn feet; he realised with intense relief that her injuries, although painful, were not fatal. He fought down a furious growl that someone had dared to harm her in any way and silently vowed pain and death for whoever was responsible. Spike ghosted further forward, edging around the partially open door in order to see more of the interior.  

He stopped in his tracks, shocked by the sight of the three occupants of the large, garishly decked-out bed. Harmony! He knew he had recognised that scent from somewhere. The whelp and Riley were in the process of fawning all over her whilst she primped and preened and glared at Buffy, who Spike now realised was crying from laughter—not from pain as he had initially thought.  

Harmony was revelling in all the attention she was getting, aside from having to direct her two admirers’ hands back towards her body every now and then.  “Oh! I have an idea!” Manoeuvring Riley behind her, Harmony began wiggling as she tried to place his cock in just the right position; tugging Xander forward, she began to manhandle him with her other hand. “Two at once, double the fun!” she giggled. 

Unfortunately, every time she managed to get them into position, Riley’s small cock would slip back out.  Getting frustrated, she twisted around, her bare ass waving in the air. “Just stay still, Ri Ri; let mommy do all the work.” Her eyes widened suddenly, and she whirled back around, shoving Xander backwards. “How many times have I told you?  It does NOT go there!” 

Spike stared, mesmerised by their antics, until a sharp snort of laughter escaped; despite his years of experience as a silent and deadly hunter, some things you just cannot fight! 

All eyes were drawn to the entrance and the blonde head of the master vampire currently torn between rage and hilarity.  

“Blondie bear!” Harmony squeaked as she threw herself off the bed and over to him. Wrapping her arms around him, she peppered his face with wet noisy kisses. “I did it! Do you see, Spikey? I caught the Slayer. And you didn’t think I could.” She giggled excitedly, jumping up and down as she clapped her hands, oblivious to Spike’s growing frustration with her behaviour.  

“Harmony!” Spike growled. The resounding fury in his voice caused the two fledges on the bed to cringe in on themselves, huddling close together and whimpering in fear as every vampiric sense they owned screamed in unassuageable terror at the sight of the clearly pissed-off master vampire before them.  

Harmony, however, remained oblivious to the palpable waves of anger rolling off him, continuing on as if he hadn’t spoken. She reached up to ruffle his hair before launching herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and grinding herself into his crotch as she sing-songed, “Oh, we are going to have so much fun, my little platinum angel. First, we’ll kill the Slayer, and then…” 

“Harmony! Will you SHUT UP!” Spike’s eyes flared deep amber as he none-too-gently removed the now-pouting blonde leech’s arms from around his neck and her legs from around his waist. An involuntary shudder of disgust ran through him as he scented her arousal. Whatever had he been thinking? he wondered to himself.  

An almost demonic snarl sounded from the rear of the room, and he looked up to see Buffy glaring murderously at the unbelievably oblivious blonde he was now holding away from him at arm’s length. “Listen up, you stupid bint. I am NOT your Blondie Bear, or any other bleedin’ stupid name you want to come up with for me. I am not your ANYTHING, Harmony. Do you understand me? Now get off me, and get the hell out of my way if you know what’s good for you. I’ll be taking the Slayer, and if you and your pair of toadies wanna stay dust-free I suggest you get the fuck out of my town. Cause if I see any one of you again, I’ll rip your bloody heads off!” 

A low growl sounded from the bed as Riley reacted instinctively to protest both the threats being aimed at his beloved Sire and Spike’s noticeably rough manhandling of her. However, a flash of fang from the older vampire quickly had him cowering back in fear and cuddling his childe close to him for comfort; his own or Xander’s he wasn’t sure.  

Spike made to shove past the simpering princess, only to have her grab at him once more. “But, Spikey, that’s so not fair. I caught her, and we went to all the trouble of bringing her back here; the least you can do is share.” She stomped her foot imperiously, hands firmly planted on her hips and her lip stuck out in an even greater pout than before. He stared incredulously at her. Could she really be that stupid? One eyebrow quirked as he spoke very slowly and precisely, thinking that maybe even she would understand if he spelt it out carefully for her. “Harm, there will be no sharing of the Slayer. There will be no having of the Slayer in any way.” A slow grin stole across his face at the thought of having the Slayer. “Well, not in THAT way, anyhow, and certainly not by any of you lot. Now get out of my way. Me an’ my girl will be going now, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your slutty, oversized arse back over there to your pathetic excuse for childer.  Stay the fuck out of my way and I will let you live. For now.” 

Ignoring Harmony’s offended gasp, he moved once more towards the rear of the crypt, eager to get to Buffy; he was beset by an irrational need to assure himself that she was indeed alright. Despite the fact that all evidence clearly showed that she was, Spike would not be happy until he had held her in his arms and ascertained that fact for himself. 

“How dare you!” Harmony’s voice rose in indignation as she reached out and grabbed a handful of duster before continuing. “And if you think I am going to let you come in here and take what is ours… well, mister, you have another thing coming! I caught the Slayer, not you. You couldn’t do it! You with your high and mighty talk about how you’ve killed two slayers, and how you’re the Big Bad. You are nothing but a has-been, and you can’t stand the thought that I managed something that you have been trying to do for years and failed at over and over again. So you’re right; there will be no sharing of the Slayer, because YOU,” she poked him hard in the chest with one perfectly manicured finger, “are leaving. Pokey-bear, my little Xanie-wanie, come and help mommy throw this sorry excuse for a vampire out.” She jutted her chin in defiance, daring him to argue with her. 

Spike blinked incredulously before reaching out and grasping her firmly by the head and twisting quickly. The distinct sound of her neck snapping was followed immediately by a shower of dust; as she dissolved into nothingness, Spike stepped forward, brushing the last of her clinging remains from his hands and clothes. 

Spike winced as an unearthly wail rose from the bed. “Bloody hell!” He roared, finally turning his attention back to the pair sitting, huddled together, on the pink satin sheets. 

Riley was squirming frantically on the bed as he keened loudly over the loss of his sire.  Ignoring Xander’s attempts to keep him back, Riley flung himself towards Spike, before dropping to his knees, hands clutching at the dust that now lay before him.  Sobbing, he curled up at Spike’s feet, oblivious to those around him, his pale ass pressing against the tip of Spike’s boot. 

Grimacing, Spike stepped back, staring at the quivering mess before him before snorting in disgust and stepping over him, once again headed towards Buffy.  He threw Xander a quick glance, ensuring that the fledgling had wisely decided to remain as unobtrusive as possible. 

“Well, lookie lookie,” Spike smirked as he ran a fingertip lightly across Buffy’s bare arm. “Care to explain how you happened to end up like this?” 

Buffy frowned at him, rattling the chains above her head. “Let me down first and I’ll give you a blow by blow account.” 

Spike circled behind her, trailing his hands downwards until he reached the hem of her skirt, then slowly sliding them up her inner thighs.  “Blow by blow, huh?” He teased a finger across her clit. “Don’t think you’re in the right position for that, love.” Slowly, he inched one digit beneath the fabric of her thong. “But I’m sure I can come up with something.” 

Buffy gave a low moan, forgetting momentarily that there were ‘others’ present—as had Spike, apparently.  They both started when a low growl sounded around the room.  

Riley rushed towards them, a small broadsword arced back, ready for its downward swing.   

“Hey, that’s mine!” Buffy yelled indignantly as Spike attempted to twist her as far away from the lethal blade as possible, shielding her body with his own.  

Everything seemed to switch to slow motion as they watched Riley charge forward, stumbling as his big toe caught the edge of the fluffy white rug.  Yelping, he instinctively dropped the sword as he flung his hands out to stop his fall, the weighty hilt landing heavily on his other foot. 

Riley then began to hop from one foot to the other as he whirled in circles, cradling each foot in turn.  Each step was slowly propelling him across the room in front of the dumbfounded pair; he made steady, if hilariously awkward, progress until he reached a small satin cushion that lay discarded on the ground.  As his foot touched its slick surface, Riley once again lost his balance; arms flailing, he began to fall backwards towards the large wooden unicorn that sat to one side. 

Riley’s eyes widened in surprise as the sharp wooden horn pierced the soft flesh of his back, before sliding through his body and out his chest.  “I’m coming, Mommy,” Riley yelled as he screwed his eyes shut and waited to join his sire.  The others held their breaths as seconds ticked by and Riley remained undusted. 

“Huh?” Riley attempted to sit forward, the horn making a soft sucking noise as it slowly began its journey in reverse. “Looks like it missed.” Carefully, he moved his feet so that they rested firmly on the ground. “Xan, come give me a hand, will you?” 

Xander threw a furtive glance towards Buffy and Spike, the pair still staring at Riley in stunned silence.  Reaching for Riley’s hand, he grasped it tightly and began to ease him the rest of the way off the lethal unicorn.  Xander almost had his sire free when a small gust of wind managed to waft into the dank crypt, stirring up Harmony’s ashes and sending them in the pair’s direction. 

Xander could feel the tingling in his nose that signalled the beginnings of a sneeze; scrunching up his nose tightly, he tried to wiggle it from side to side in an attempt to stave it off as his eyes began to water from the strain.  In an almost violent outburst, the sneeze erupted from him, and Xander let go of his Sire as his body bent over from the force.  Riley yelped as he once again landed on the unicorn, its horn this time finding its target. 

Xander continued to sneeze and cough, unaware that his Sire’s dust now filled the air as well. 

“Well, that was disappointing.” Spike let his shoulders slump. “I could have at least got in one punch,” he grumbled as he turned to look at Buffy.  Pain lanced through him as he saw her trembling shoulders and the silent tears that streamed down her face. 

Buffy caught sight of the sorrow that now filled his expressive face, taking a deep breath, she tried to speak up and reassure Spike that everything was fine.  All he heard, however, was the bout of giggles that erupted from her as soon as she opened her mouth.  “Oh. My. God. Riley was the dumbest vampire I have ever met.”  She giggled again. “Although he did manage to do something that you never could,” she taunted, giving Spike a playful smile. 

“And what would that be, love?” Spike pressed himself up close to her, relieved now that he knew that her tears were from laughter and not from grief.

“Well, you never managed to stake yourself.” Buffy snorted loudly as another bout of giggles burst from her lips.

Spike smirked and sidled closer to her, the pair so caught up in each other and Riley’s demise that neither noticed the dark-haired fledgling edging his way towards the exit. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Xander stood at the entrance of the crypt, a bundle of clothes clutched in his hands.  Casting a quick look around, he shuffled around the side of the building, flinching slightly as he leaned his soft backside against the coarse stone.  Slowly he began to sort through the bundle in his hands.  Somehow, he had managed to salvage his chaps, one of Riley’s battered boots as well as one of his own—spur still attached, and Harmony’s top.   

Shrugging, Xander began to dress himself carefully, his pale white arse shining in the moonlight as he tugged on the mismatched boots.  Unable to bring his game face to the fore, Xander peered through the gloom at stare at the chaps he held high, puzzling over just what was the right way to wear them. 

A small noise sounded in the darkened cemetery; Xander, however, was too engrossed in his task to notice.  It wasn’t until a cool hand slid its way across his naked buttocks that he realised he was no longer alone.   

“Well, ain’t you just a cute little thang,” came a slow Texas drawl, the hand continuing to trace a path across his pale body.  “I could just eat you all up.”   

Xander squealed loudly, jumping away from the source of the voice; dropping the clothing he held, he darted his hand down to cover his privates.  He gulped audibly as he took in the vampire… vampiress?... that had accosted him. 

The creature stood before him, towering above him by a good foot.  Xander’s eyes widened in fright as he let his gaze sweep upwards.  Thick legs were encased in skin-tight black lycra, leading upwards to a thicker stomach.  A small pouch of skin hung lightly over the waistband; a tight, fluorescent green bustier thrust her ample breasts skywards to spill over the top.  Bright orange hair framed a chubby face, and Xander shuddered as a thick tongue thrust outwards to lick across her lips slowly. 

“And who would you be, darlin’?” she asked, eying him hungrily. “And why would such a tender little piece of sweet meat be out here all by his lonesome?”  She dragged a hand slowly across her breasts. 

Xander opened his mouth to do… something, but the only noise that emerged was a tiny squeak.  

“Oh huuney-pie… cat got your tongue?” 

Xander began to stutter as he tried to back-pedal, tripping over a low headstone and ending up on his back.  Xander yelped as the vampiress moved to stand above him, searching desperately with one hand for the clothing he had dropped before. 

“Here.  Why don’t you let Lulabelle get that for ya.” She reached down and snatched up his missing chaps, glancing at them momentarily before tossing them out of reach. “But then again, I don’t think you’ll be needin’ those.” 

Lulabelle grasped Xander firmly under the arms, hoisting him up and over her shoulder, patting his naked backside firmly.  “You just sit tight, and ole Lulabelle will take good care of you.” 

She turned to stride through the night with her new prize, Xander sobbing softly as she told him just how she was going to take care of him. 

***** 

A slow smile spread across Spike’s face, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now what are we going to do with you, kitten?” He sauntered leisurely towards Buffy, reaching out and allowing his fingers to trail slowly, teasingly down her arm from her chained hands, ghosting past her armpit to brush feather-light caresses across her breast. 

“Just get me out of these chains, Spike,” Buffy demanded, even as she arched towards him in an attempt to increase the contact with his oh-so-clever fingers.  

Spike leaned close, nipping softly at her neck and breathing deeply, assuring himself once again that she was unhurt before continuing. “Patience, pet. All in good time. Right now, I’m thinkin’ that I like you just the way you are.”  The deep husky voice against her throat tingled through her body; a rush of wetness dampened her panties as a soft, longing moan escaped her lips, betraying her to the smirking vampire. “Like the thought of that, do you, kitten?” He nipped once more at the tender flesh of her neck before suckling gently on the abused skin. His hands ran lightly across her body, one thumb teasing her aching nipple, the other hand skimming up one golden thigh to brush tantalisingly across her clit before repeating the journey back down to her knee. 

Buffy whimpered, the need to touch him suddenly overwhelming; she pulled frantically against her chains, her hands desperate to feel him beneath them. 

“Shh, pet,” Spike stepped closer and gathered her against his body, stilling her actions and soothing her with soft kisses. “’m sorry, Buffy. Hush, love, ‘s’alright. I’ll get you down, kitten.” 

Before he could move to undo the chains that held her suspended from the ceiling, Buffy had pressed against him, lifting herself and snaking her legs around his waist, grinding her aching sex against his hard, denim-covered length; her lips found the soft, sensitive skin of his neck. A hungry growl escaped him as her blunt little teeth nipped and worried at his neck, and all thought of unchaining her left his mind completely. Sliding his hand beneath her skirt, he tore the flimsy little knickers from her body. He pressed her back hard against the rough, cold brick of the mausoleum, her arms stretched almost painfully taut above her head as the chains reached their limit. Lifting the slayer slightly and reaching between them, he quickly popped the buttons of his fly, allowing his eager cock to spring free from its prison. He lowered Buffy once again, his gaze capturing and holding hers as he filled her, a quiet gasp of pleasure escaping each of them as their bodies joined.  

He moved slowly, deeply, his hips setting a languid rhythm even as his mouth claimed hers in a slow, sweet tango, lips and tongues coming together in an age-old dance. 

Buffy moaned softly as his hands traced lovingly across her body, and yet her own were denied the pleasure of reciprocation. She kissed and nipped gently at his lips, his neck, and his face, anywhere she could reach in her desperate need to touch him. 

Spike allowed his hands to wander, reacquainting himself with her body, eager hands tracing every inch; touching, teasing, stroking, he steadily built the flame within each of them until their bodies quivered with the need for release. 

Buffy’s head dropped to one side, silently granting him access. Without thought he allowed his fangs to drop, sliding them gently into the soft, golden skin of his lover’s throat and drawing deeply on her powerful slayer’s blood as the thrust of his hips quickened, driving deeper and harder into her until he felt the first telltale signs of her impending orgasm. Withdrawing his fangs, he licked tenderly at the tiny wounds, closing and healing them as he murmured a litany of praises against her throat between soft, nibbling kisses. 

Her strong internal walls clenched and unclenched around him as she moaned longingly against his ear, her legs clutching him desperately to her; with one last thrust, he followed her into bliss, her name slipping reverently from his lips. 

***** 

They made their way slowly through the night towards the slayer’s home, each caught in their own thoughts.  

For her part, Buffy was dreading the impending discussions, heartbroken at the thought of having to tell Willow that her oldest friend and long-time crush was dead… or undead, as the case may be. She wasn’t sure which of those two options Willow would prefer, although she vowed not to let slip his behaviour as a vampire; let Willow at least have the comfort of remembering him the way he had been.  

Spike was worrying frantically over Joyce’s reaction to their new ‘couple’ status. He knew that Joyce liked him, and he had all the time in the world for the slayer’s mum, but he wasn’t so sure that her goodwill would continue once she knew the new nature of his relationship with her daughter. In short, Spike was terrified that the reality of her family and friends’ disapproval of their relationship would be too much for Buffy; he was desperately afraid that he would lose her, the thought of which cut him to the core.  

His steps slowed noticeably as they left the cemetery, dragging so much that Buffy was pulled from her own musings. “Spike? What’s wrong?” She turned to face him, taking in the worry in his oh-so-expressive blue eyes. 

“’s nothing, love. Just me bein’ silly is all.” He tried to shrug off her concern, painting what he hoped was a confident smile on his face. 

Buffy watched as his face shaped itself into a positive façade; no matter how hard he tried to fool her, however, his attempts did nothing to relieve the apprehension in his eyes. “Spike?” She stepped toward him, cupping his face gently with one hand and stroking his arm in rhythmic soothing motions with the other. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.” The deep concern in her voice and the tenderness in her eyes were his undoing. 

“’m just worried ‘bout what’s gonna happen to us, love. You know, when your friends, an’ your Watcher, an’ maybe even your mum let it be known how much they don’t approve.” He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, fighting the urge to grieve for something not yet lost. 

Buffy’s face softened as a gentle smile curved the corners of her lips; she brushed her thumb up and down the strong, beautiful cheekbone before stepping closer to claim his lips in a soft, almost chaste kiss. “They’ll just have to deal. ‘Cause this,” she pointed to each of them in turn, “us, I think can be really good. And I don’t plan on letting anyone or anything ruin our chance of finding out.” 

Spike folded her in his arms, holding her close as he kissed her deeply, pouring every ounce of his love into the kiss. “Right then, love,” he grinned as they finally broke the kiss, “how ‘bout we go break the good news to your Watcher?” Raising one hand, he indicated the light shining from the watcher’s window just a few doors up the street. 

Buffy couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at the vampire’s enthusiasm, even as she held tightly to his arms in an attempt to steady herself after the rather dizzying effects of the mind-numbing kiss.  As they watched, the light flicked out, leaving the flat in darkness.  “Nah, we’ll let him get one last night’s peaceful sleep,” Buffy laughed; linking her arm through Spike’s, she headed off once more towards home, this time with a much less reluctant vampire in tow. 

***** 

Giles placed a glass of water on the bedside table and climbed into bed; removing his glasses and placing them neatly beside the drink, he pulled the covers up and flicked off the bedside lamp. 

With a deep sigh, he relaxed back against the pillows; it was good to be home.  There really was nothing like one’s own bed. Even though he enjoyed his forays into LA, he was always infinitely glad to return home again. His eyes immediately drifted closed as he allowed himself to give in to the gentle pull of sleep. 

The world tilted suddenly, and he woke to find himself hurtling towards the ground, frantically conjuring memories of what he should do in the event of an earthquake. He hit the ground hard, pain lancing up his arm from his shoulder, his glasses and the water joining him on the floor. He lay for a moment, regaining his equilibrium, wiping the water from his hair and eyes and catching his breath as he took mental note of his injuries; his shoulder ached, and was badly bruised, but he was fairly certain there was no more serious harm done than that. It was moments before he realised that the room was not shaking; in fact, nothing was disturbed beyond that which had joined him in his fall. 

Carefully regaining his feet, he inspected the cause of his sudden tumble. The leg of the bed was snapped clean through. He rescued his glasses from the mess on the floor and bent to examine the bed. 

Removing the glasses once more, he shook his head. “Bloody shoddy American craftsmanship.  You certainly wouldn’t hear of an English-built bed falling apart in such a manner. I’ve a good mind to complain; damned cheek selling a man an inferior quality bed,” he muttered quietly to himself as he set about gathering up his blankets and pillows before making his way down the stairs to spend the night on the couch. 

***** 

As they passed Giles’ flat, Spike broke into a grin, snorting softly in amusement before turning wide, innocent eyes on the bemused slayer in answer to her unspoken query. “Just something I heard, love. Nothing to worry ‘bout. C’mon, kitten, let’s get home to your mum.” 

With a shrug, Buffy followed her vampire into the night. 

the end