Oh God! She never knew her head could hurt so much.

Buffy opened her eyes and, instantly regretting the action, squeezed them tightly shut in a futile defence against the sun streaming through her window. Her head alternated between pounding and spinning, and the heat that came streaming through the window along with the blinding light was rapidly increasing her already overpowering nausea.

Clasping her hand to her mouth, Buffy bolted for the bathroom, only just reaching her destination before emptying the contents of her stomach. Finally, her stomach completely void and the muscles in her throat and abdomen aching from the strain of dry-retching, Buffy sank slowly to the floor; she curled in on herself, arms wrapped defensively around her knees as she rested her head on the cool hard surface of the tiles and drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

****

Hours later, Buffy awakened, stiff and sore from her unusual choice of sleeping venues. She raised her head tentatively, steeling herself for the blinding pain and subsequent nausea that this morning’s rousing had brought on. A dull thud in her head and an empty ache in her stomach were all that greeted the movement, though, and she slowly uncurled, carefully
stretching each tortured muscle. Only then did she realise that she was naked. Completely, absolutely devoid of clothes!

She tried to remember what had happened the previous night. How could she have gone to bed without any clothes on? Try as she might, Buffy could not remember anything after going to the Bronze with her friends; she was supposed to meet Angel there, and had been looking forward to seeing him. Beyond that, her mind was a blank. And what was wrong with her? She didn’t get sick. Not ever! And this felt awful—the worst she could remember ever feeling.

Slowly and carefully—her legs trembling slightly and her head shooting occasional warning stabs of pain that told her in no uncertain terms she would pay dearly if she moved too quickly—Buffy eased herself to her feet. She turned the taps on and climbed into the tub, sighing gratefully as the hot water rained down on her aching head. She stood under the water until it
started to go cold, then made her way to her room to dry and quickly pull on some clothes. Checking her clock, she saw that she had slept most of the day away and that her mom would be home from the gallery soon. She needed to speak
to Willow before her mom got home.

The shower had done much to ease the throbbing pain in her head and the stiff ache in her muscles. She sat down on her bed and grabbed the phone, quickly dialling Will’s number and waiting for her friend to pick up.

The front door opened as Buffy was replacing the phone on its cradle; Willow hadn’t been a lot of help. Apparently they had waited, but Angel had not shown up. Xander and Willow had left and tried to convince her to go with them, but she had wanted to give Angel a little more time so she had stayed behind.

Buffy went downstairs. Her mom was in the kitchen unpacking some groceries she had bought on her way home from work.

“Hi, honey.” Joyce looked up as Buffy entered the room. She squinted worriedly, her brow creasing slightly with concern as she took in her daughter’s strained look and pallid features. “You look terrible. Are you coming down with something?” Her hand immediately placed itself across Buffy’s forehead, searching for any trace of fever.

“Gee, thanks, Mom! Just what a girl wants to hear,” Buffy pouted. “But yeah, I guess I might be coming down with something. My head hurts and my stomach feels all funky.”

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?”

Buffy screwed up her face in disgust at the very thought of food. “Nah, I think I might just go back to bed.”

“Ok, honey. Get some sleep, and hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning.”

*****

Buffy was pulled slowly from her dreams by the most delicious sensation. Soft lips ran trails down her neck and along her collarbone before dipping down to trace icy fire between her breasts. She moaned softly, eyes still closed against the pleasure, and shifted slightly to accommodate the lean body that rested lightly on top of her. As the figure settled comfortably between her legs, a nimble tongue and teeth quickly undid the buttons holding her top closed. Her eyes opened with a gasp of pleasure as that amazing mouth latched on to one eager nipple, suckling gently and nipping lightly to draw
further hungry moans and whimpers from her before soothing once more with gentle licks. Buffy’s pleasure-soaked brain was unable to comprehend anything beyond the incredible sensations the lips, tongue and teeth currently lavishing her
body were eliciting; her body was writhing in ecstasy from the unfamiliar, but oh so welcome, touches.

She fought through the fog of pleasure-induced delirium, finally registering the fact that she was actually awake and this wasn’t just some incredibly realistic dream.

Spike? How could Spike be here—in her bedroom? And, oh God, how could he be making her feel the things she was feeling? She summoned every ounce of self-control she possessed and forced herself to scoot backwards, away
from the mouth that was delivering these intensely exquisite sensations that shot through her body and left her weak with longing.

“Spike? What are you doing here? How?” She crossed her arms quickly in front of her, pulling the pyjama top closed in the process. Her eyes widened in panic when the last vestiges of lust swept away, leaving her with the knowledge that ‘the Slayer of Slayers’ was somehow here, in her bedroom—in her house! Buffy tried to stay calm, tried not to let the rising panic take over, and tried also not to think about the things his mouth had been doing to her when she woke. A deep throaty chuckle brought her quickly back to the present, and more specifically to the vampire who remained settled comfortably between her legs looking like he had no intentions whatsoever of leaving his resting place anytime soon.

“Thought the ‘what’ was pretty obvious, Slayer. As for the how, have an invite, now don’t I? Can come in here whenever I want now, pet.” A hungry smile lit his face, and his eyes burned with lust as he ran them slowly over her barely hidden body. He had both smelled her body’s reaction to his ministrations and felt the rapid rise in her heartbeat that told him in no
uncertain terms that his attentions were not entirely unwelcome.

“An invite? How?” Buffy’s panic rose another notch. Had her Mom let Spike in the house, and if so, why were they still alive? Why hadn’t he killed them in their sleep? Then a fresh thought stabbed cold fear to her heart. Her mom—she could be dead! Spike could have already drained her mom, and then come in here to toy with her before claiming the life of his third slayer.

He chuckled again. This was going to be even more fun than he had thought. The bint didn’t remember a thing, and he was going to get a great deal of pleasure out of enlightening her.

“Well, love, if I remember correctly, the invite occurred somewhere between you stickin’ your pretty little tongue halfway down my throat and you tryin’ to rip my clothes off and have your wicked way with me. Couldn’t get enough of running your hands over my hot little body, Slayer. Quite the little vixen, aren’t you, Slayer?”

“What?” Buffy’s voice rose indignantly. “I don’t know what sort of game you’re playing, Spike, but don’t try…”

“How’d you feel when you woke up, love? How was the head? An’ maybe you felt a little under the weather? Bit not so right in the stomach?”

“Oh my god! What did you do to me?”

“Me?” he scoffed. “Don’t go blaming me for this! ‘S all your own doin’, so if you’re lookin’ to lay blame, Slayer, look no bloody further than your own dainty little feet.” He ducked his head and gently nibbled on the warm golden stomach that now rested beneath his mouth, his tongue flicking out to trace slow teasing circles before it plunged into her belly-button to elicit an involuntary moan of pleasure from her. Spike smiled knowingly against her skin. She wanted him, every demon-enhanced sense he owned told him so—hell, they were practically screaming it at him.

Once more Buffy fought against the pleasure of Spike’s agile tongue to remind herself that she was the slayer and this creature in her bed was an evil master vampire who took great delight and pride in killing her kind.

“No. Stop!” Buffy squirmed under him, pushing at his head to make him stop. When he raised his head to look at her, her breath caught. Blue eyes sparkling with lust and humour peered up at her out of his stunningly beautiful face. Why had she never noticed before how gorgeous Spike was? Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she reluctantly admitted. She had noticed that first night in the Bronze, but then there had been the whole big distracty thing with the vampire attack and the gorgeous blonde newcomer turning out to be a vampire himself—and a kills-slayers-for-a-hobby type of vampire to boot.

“Ok, you say you didn’t do anything to me. So how is it you know what was wrong with me when I woke up, then, Mr Smartypants?”

“’s common knowledge what the symptoms of a hangover are, Slayer. An’ I’m wagerin’ you had one hell of a hangover goin’ on, what with the state you were in last night.” He dropped his chin and rested it lightly on her abdomen, trying to fight the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at her shocked face.

“What?! How?” She glared at the vampire, positive that somehow this was his fault entirely.

“Well, I would be inclined to say in the usual manner, love—you lifted a few too many glasses an’ applied them to that pretty little mouth of yours. As for the actual reason behind your sudden fall from your bloody platform of virtue, I wouldn’t have a clue, an’ I don’t give a toss anyway. Found you staggerin’ through an alley way outta your usual jurisdiction, singing some god-awful crap at the top of your lungs an’ smellin’ none too pleasant too, I might add.”

“But… I… How?”

“Thought I just established that I have no bleedin’ idea!” he answered derisively, his scarred eyebrow raised as he smirked at the slayer’s obvious discomfort. She was so damned cute.

Buffy stared at him, indignation flaring. She was about to tell him that there was no way she would have got drunk when a quick flash came to her of the inside of Willy’s bar, an all-but-empty pitcher of beer on the table in front of her and one terrified weasel of a bartender asking if there was anything more he could get for her because it was just about closing time.

“I… I think I was looking for Angel,” she stammered. “I went to Willy’s.”

“Right. Cause that’s exactly where you’re gonna find the poof. Hangin’ out with all his demon mates.” Sarcasm dripped from Spike’s tongue, his eyes narrowing angrily at the mention of his despised grandsire’s name. What the hell did the chit see in the soddin’ brooding bastard anyway? He’d make her forget she’d ever heard of bloody Angelus. By the time this night was over, he intended to hear the Slayer scream; whether from ecstasy or agony, he didn’t much care—although his painfully hard cock was definitely leaning towards the ecstasy side of the equation.

“He was supposed to meet me at the Bronze, and he didn’t show up,” she confided quietly. “I thought maybe Willy might know where he’d be. Or that maybe he might be there. Oh, I don’t know what I was thinking… that
I’d been stood up… that I wasn’t good enough…"

“That you weren’t good enough?” Spike snorted. “He’s the one who’s not bloody good enough for you, pet. You could do so much better.”

“Yeah? Like who? You, maybe?” she asked, bitter resignation colouring her tones.

“Yeah, like me! An’ why bloody not? ‘m a fine catch I am.”

“Spike, you kill slayers.” Buffy could have kicked herself the second the words were out of her mouth. Yeah, way to go, Buffy. Remind the evil undead bloodsucker that has you pinned to the bed that he kills your kind. Great survival instincts!

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t kill you last night, now did I? Not that there woulda been a lot of challenge in it. What with you so bloody drunk you could hardly stand.”

“So, what—you just brought me home?” Buffy questioned, disbelievingly. “Without feeling the need to gnaw on my neck while you had the chance?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I did. Why the hell would I want to fight you in that condition? Where’s the bloody glory in defeating a paralytic slayer? Besides, you were all over me like a bleedin’ rash—what was I s’posed to do? Couldn’t have pried your tongue out of my mouth long enough to bite you, had I even wanted to.”

“You’re lying! There is no way. Nuh uh.” Buffy shook her head vehemently, despite the nagging in the back of her mind that told her just how full of it she was, that of course she would love to get her lips on the sexy piece of vampire flesh currently resting in oh-so-tempting a position and looking up at her with those unbelievably beautiful blue eyes. There was no doubting he was evil—something that tempting just had to be evil!

“That’s right, pet. I’m lyin’. That’s how come I’m sitting here right now, invited into the slayer’s holy bloody sanctum. An’ why I know for a fact that you went to bed starkers last night; was a right pretty little striptease you did, too, I might add. Hardest thing I’ve ever done, getting outta here with all my clothes intact.” His eyes sparkled in recollection, and he felt himself harden further.

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, to claim he was lying, when she was assailed by the vision of Spike tucking her carefully into bed while trying to avoid her eagerly grasping hands. She remembered his parting words as he ducked out her window, blowing her a kiss before fleeing into the safety of night. “Tomorrow. When you’re in your right mind. You still want me then, an’ I’m all yours, love.”

She felt the colour burning her cheeks as she ducked her head in shame at her behaviour. She remembered now, well bits and pieces anyway, not how she had ended up in the alley… but she remembered Spike walking her home, making sure she was safe and trying to fend off her advances at the same time. She remembered stripping and trying to rip the vampire’s clothes from his body after inviting him in to her room, as he’d had to carry her up the tree over his shoulder to prevent her falling and killing herself as she snuck back in.

“Oh, God. What did I do? You must think I’m such a …”

“No. Shh. Nothing of the sort, love. C’mere.” He moved up her body, wrapping her in his arms and flipping them so he lay on his back, the slayer’s head resting on his chest as he stroked her hair soothingly. “I think you had a few too many drinks, an’ you were lonely, ‘s all, pet. Trust me, I know how that feels,” he sighed, revealing more than he had meant to in his
inexplicable urge to comfort the girl in his arms.

“But you love Drusilla. I know you do.” Buffy turned her sad green eyes on the vampire; she longed for the kind of love she had seen shine in this undead creature’s eyes as he gazed at his dark princess.

“Yeah, I do. Doesn’t mean the feelin’s reciprocated, though. The only place in Dru’s heart has a fuckin’ big ‘RESERVED’ sign on it for her bleedin’ ponce of a daddy. Never mind that yours truly’s the one has taken care of her, an’ loved her, an’ looked out for her for the last bloody century; that counts for shit as far as she’s concerned. All I ever hear from her is how her daddy will be coming home to her soon, the stars or Miss bloody Edith, or some other such rot, told her so.” Spike’s voice rang with sadness and hurt and betrayal so deep it made Buffy’s heart ache for him; she tightened her arms around his strong body and snuggled a little deeper into his chest, offering silent comfort for the pain he had unintentionally disclosed.

They stayed like that for some time, each giving comfort to the other as they cuddled quietly, stroking each other softly. Spike’s fingers ran rhythmically through her hair, and Buffy’s hand gently stroked the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. In time, their touches grew less comforting and more arousing; Spike’s other hand came up to inch below her still unbuttoned top, easing the shirt open to once again reveal her breasts for his inspection. He gently cupped one soft mound, flicking his thumb across her nipple and receiving a startled gasp of pleasure as his reward. He felt his cock harden
once more, from both her pleasurable reaction and the hot little hands wandering ever closer across the dips and ridges of his stomach.

He moaned hungrily and pulled her up to him, his head dipping to plant a searing kiss on her welcoming lips. His tongue sought and gained access, tangling lightly with hers as his fingers continued their ministrations to her now-hardened nipple, gently twisting and tweaking before rolling the hungry little bud firmly between thumb and forefinger only to tweak once more. He caught her cries and moans with his mouth, each new whimper of longing and delight bringing new levels of urgency to his painfully hard cock. He shifted slightly to try to ease the pressure and moaned as the sudden move
caused her hand to brush against his aching erection, making it jump painfully against the restrictive denim and causing her to squeak with fright.

“Spike. No. Stop. Please.” She breathed urgently into his mouth as she tried to shuffle away from him, but this time his arms tightened around her even as he complied with her wishes, removing his hand from her aching nipple and reluctantly breaking off the mind-numbing kiss.

“Slayer, just stake me, will you, and stop bloody torturing me like this,” he growled in frustration.

“Spike. This is wrong. We shouldn’t. I mean... we’re enemies… you hate me…”

“Don’t bloody hate you. What gave you that idea?"

“Oh, let me see… You wanting to kill me might have had something to do with it.”

“Wanting to kill you has nothing to do with hating you. Don’t hate you at all. Killing Slayers is just what I do. ‘s nothing
personal.” He sighed deeply in an attempt to calm his frustration, and to gain a moment to think of what to say to quieten her fears and ultimately lead things back to where they had been before she had once more interrupted the beginnings of what had the potential to be a perfectly good shag. “Look at me, Slayer.” He tilted her chin up so she looked him in the eye. “I give you my word—I will never enter this house to harm anyone. If you want to get your watcher over here
to uninvite me, you can go ahead. But there is no need, love. I will never harm anyone inside this house.”

Buffy stared at him for a while. His eyes never wavered and, despite every instinct screaming at her that she could not take the word of a vampire, she knew she could believe him, knew that if Spike gave her his word he would keep it. She nodded slowly, never losing eye contact with him. “I believe you.”

“Good.” He smirked at her. “Course, having said that, if I see you out on the streets in fit enough condition to fight, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” With that he leaned down and once more captured her mouth in a bone-melting kiss. When he finally allowed her up for air, he continued on. “Just cause we’re enemies doesn’t mean we can’t have a little,” he looked her up
and down before his gaze came to rest on her face, lust burning obviously in his eyes, “fun.” His eyes drifted back down from where seconds ago they had searched her own to gaze hungrily at her still-exposed breasts. He flipped them over,
settling her comfortably on the bed and regaining his previous resting place between her legs. Licking his lips in anticipation, he leaned in slowly to capture a taut pink nipple gently between his teeth, his tongue flicking out to tease as his teeth slowly increased the pressure.

Spike lavished attention on her breasts with tongue and teeth, sometimes suckling gently, sometimes nipping harshly to elicit a sharp gasp of need and a fresh flood of arousal before gently soothing once more, licking and suckling at the abused flesh. While his mouth alternated from one breast to the other, his hands roamed across her body, stroking and teasing until Buffy was whimpering and moaning helplessly beneath the vampire’s deliciously cruel assault.

The tantalising scent of the slayer’s arousal sent waves of longing and need coursing through his body. He forced down the urge to rip her clothes off and bury himself to the hilt inside of her. The slayer was young, and he suspected still a virgin; it would be worth the effort and the control it took for him to do this properly. He found himself wanting to teach her the
joys and pleasures that two people could find in each other, for some reason he couldn’t quite understand, he wanted this to be memorable for her for all the right reasons. Whether this wish stemmed from the tenderness that the girl
seemed to evoke in him despite his best efforts to deny it, or from a certain manly pride in knowing that all who came after would be compared—and he believed unfavourably—to him, he was unsure; neither did he care.

Moving almost regretfully away from the breasts he had lavished so much care and attention on, he worked slowly down the slayer’s body, kissing and nipping along the way, his tongue tracing trails of icy fire across her abdomen until once more unerringly finding the way and dipping into her belly button. The girl’s moans increased in volume, and her hips lifted
involuntarily from the bed, urging him lower; despite her silent pleas, he took his time, sucking and licking her golden skin, revelling in the feel of her strong lithe muscles below the silky soft surface. His hands continued to wander over her body, fingers lightly teasing as they danced across her, seeking out and attacking her most responsive regions. One hand took over the work in which his mouth had previously been employed, teasing her rosy nipples to further tautness; each moan and whimper from the slayer’s lips, each gasp of air or urgent thrash of her body as it experienced for the first time the delight of a lover’s competent touch, urged him on to greater levels of blissful torture and his own aching need was temporarily ignored, though not forgotten.

He moved lower down her body with agonising slowness; without removing her satin pyjama pants, he kissed and nipped his way down one thigh. Purposefully avoiding her centre, he worked his way down her leg, kissing and nuzzling the delicate curves and licking light trails of fire across the bare skin below her knee. When he reached her foot, his strong hands lightly massaged it before he nipped and licked at the sole, causing tremors of want to course through her; grinning with self-satisfaction, he gently sucked on her instep once more, eliciting further tremors of ecstasy caused by the almost
painfully delicious sensations. He swiftly moved to the other foot and forced it to endure the same exquisite ordeal as its counterpart, his blunt human teeth employed on the sole of her foot just hard enough to cross the line between ticklish and sensual.

After working his way up this leg, having treated it in the same manner as the first, he ran kisses gently along her hip bone; her mewling cries increased in both need and volume as he continued to avoid the aching heat at the junction of her thighs. His hands, finding themselves once again within reach, returned to their assault on her exquisitely tender nipples.

Buffy had never imagined such sensations could exist. Spike was carrying her body to levels of bliss she had never dreamed possible, and all semblance of coherent thought had ceased moments after his mouth had descended upon her breasts. The desperate ache building inside of her, the need for something more, something beyond her grasp and yet so close within reach had her crying and whimpering unashamedly. Spike’s every touch drove her to greater depths of need, and she knew she would do anything in order to find the completion her body was screaming for. Her hips reached longingly towards him as he neared; she whimpered with loss as his talented lips ignored her pleadings and moved away from the throbbing bundle of nerves desperate for his touch, only to moan with pleasure as he traced nips and kisses along her hip bone,
increasing her need further with each contact of his mouth against her hungry body. Her hands dropped to his head and her fingers twined in his hair, freeing the soft white curls he fought so hard to control. She tried helplessly to push him lower, to encourage his cool mouth to where her clitoris ached and throbbed in urgent need. He stubbornly refused to move, his only answer to her silent plea being to suck harder still on the skin stretched tautly over her hipbone, gently pulling her blood to the surface within tantalising reach of his questing tongue; desperately, she gave her plea breath and whispered beseechingly, “Spike, please.”

At her spoken request, he moved swiftly to envelope her satin-covered mound in hungry open-mouthed kisses, licking and suckling through the fine material. Her hips rocked against his face, pressing against him in an unconscious effort to increase the pressure and drive herself closer to the release he had brought her so near and yet refused her.

Grasping the waistband of her pants, he quickly pulled the obstacle down her slim hips and off. He resettled himself once more, but as he lowered his head to finally savour the taste of the slayer’s juices direct from the source his eye was caught by a splash of colour. Using his hands to still her thrashing, he pinned her trembling thigh to the bed and bent to examine that which had distracted him from the task at hand. On the inside of the slayer’s finely muscled thigh, only a fraction of an inch from the delights he was about to savour, was a small tattoo; it was clearly recent, although courtesy of her slayer enhanced healing powers well healed, and depicted a small heart pierced by what was unmistakably a railroad spike. A surge of pride swelled in him, followed rapidly by a burning jealous rage when he realised that someone, most likely a man, had been in the position to place the little pretty there in the first place.

Before he could control himself, his fangs surged forth and sank deeply into the tender flesh, placing his mark on her body right next to the symbolic one she had willingly placed there herself; the two combined to mark her as indelibly his. He took long deep pulls on the powerful slayer’s blood that flooded his mouth, and her moans increased to a new level as she
cried her need; her fingers tightened painfully in his now loosened curls as she bucked beneath him in an effort to regain the pleasurable sensations his mouth had been causing, while at the same time never wanting him to stop drinking
deeply of her blood. She had no idea what had inspired him to bite her, no comprehension of the reason he had growled so possessively before sinking his fangs deep into her flesh; all she knew was that she never wanted him to stop, would gladly lay there and allow him to drain her so long as the feelings coursing through her body and concentrating in her womb never ceased.

Spike reluctantly drew back, gently licking the puncture wounds to stop the blood and start them healing. Her blood was intoxicating, a potent elixir imbuing the drinker with strength, power, and no small amount of lust. He had tasted the blood of a slayer before, drinking greedily as her life had slipped away and revelling in the power her death had brought. This slayer—his slayer, the demon in him growled possessively, licking once more at the two marks gracing her thigh—tasted of power far greater than any he had known before.

She thrashed beneath him, but not in an attempt to free herself from the master vampire whose teeth had so recently rested within her flesh as he drew her life-source from her. Rather, she bucked in desperate lustful need of the selfsame vampire whose mouth hovered scant inches above her needy flesh.

He grasped her hips, pinning them tightly to the bed with his fingers digging painfully into the tender flesh, and reached out with the tip of his tongue to trace gently from her entrance to her pleasure centre; he nipped it gently before sucking the hardened nub into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue as he suckled. Her hips fought against their imprisonment, seeking to
buck upwards and force a greater contact between her aching flesh and the vampire’s hungry mouth. His hold clamped down even harder, and her movements ceased even as her desperate mewling grew all the more urgent, his name barely
distinguishable amongst the incoherent babbling. He suckled harder and nipped again at her sensitive clit.

In just moments, her body exploded as wave upon wave of pleasure engulfed her, and her thighs clamped closed around her lover’s head, locking him into place. He thanked all who would listen that he had no need to breathe before again dipping his tongue between her folds to lap hungrily at the flood of abrosia, his eager ministrations prolonging her orgasm. His hold on her hips relaxed as his hands travelled over her now wildly thrashing body, and his moan of appreciation against her heated flesh caused yet another flood of juices to coat his tongue as it delved into her depths. He continued to lap tenderly at her, avoiding her clitoris as she slowly came down, small shocks continuing to course through her body for some time as his tongue gently explored her virgin passage.

Her legs unclamped as her orgasm subsided, and after once more laving her folds and indulging in a parting suck to her clit Spike moved up her body, gathering her in his arms as he lay beside her on the bed. He captured her mouth and kissed her breathless, the taste of her own juices on his lips at first startling and then exciting her as she recalled exactly why he tasted of her.

When he released her mouth to allow her breath she nuzzled into his neck, burying her face from his sight. The slight tremor of her shoulders and the tiniest trace of sound put him on alert, and he pulled her slightly away from his body, his fingers gently lifting her chin so he could see her face. A lone tear traced its way down her cheek.

Concern etched his features as he stared in shock at her face. “Shh. Ah, love what's wrong? Did I hurt you?” He was certain that he hadn’t, but her tear gripped him with a sudden panic; the last thing he had wanted was to cause her pain, either emotional or physical.

Buffy shook her head vehemently and tried to find the words to explain. “Spike, that was… I never knew anything could be so… amazing.” Her words were so quiet, hidden beneath the uncertainty of inexperience and the dread that he would laugh at her reaction to something that had been nothing less than a revelation; had Spike been anything but a vampire, he couldn’t have made them out despite the close proximity they currently shared.

A smile curled the corners of his mouth once he realised that her tears were of joy and not sorrow or pain; relieved, he claimed her mouth once again before murmuring softly against her lips, “Ah, Buffy, love, you scared me. I thought I’d hurt you, kitten, and that’s not what this night is about.” His chest puffed with pride that he had given her such pleasure, and he
pulled her to him to once more kiss her thoroughly, his tongue dancing a slow tango with hers as his hands tangled in the golden waves of her sweetly scented hair.

They finally drew apart, allowing Buffy to draw a deep lungful of much-needed air. Spike stroked gently down her back, easing the open pyjama shirt down off her arms and onto the floor. His eyes wandered appreciatively over her naked body, committing to memory every dip and curve, the silky texture of her golden skin, the sheen of her hair as it fell in a dishevelled tangle about her shoulders, the still lust-clouded eyes that gazed up at him, the kiss-swollen lips slightly parted as if awaiting his return to ravish them further. Every detail was filed away for later recall, for he couldn’t comprehend such an opportunity being open to him again, even as his demon protested such a thought. To the demon, it was a simple matter—the girl belonged to him, he would have her when he pleased and allow no other to touch her.

Buffy balked under the intensity of his gaze; she found it strangely unsettling, even after all he had just done to her and where he had just been, to have his smouldering blue eyes so openly digesting her naked form. Her embarrassment shone brightly in her cheeks as she ducked her head to hide against his chest, burrowing her face into his t-shirt. Her mind raced to catch up to her body. She had just shared the most intense experience of her young life with a vampire who had vowed to kill her, to drain the life from her body and… wait a minute.

“Spike. You bit me!”

“Yeah, pet, I did. You only just catching on to that now?”

“But you promised! You said you didn’t come in here to harm anyone.” Her voice was quiet but rang clearly with hurt and betrayal.

“Didn’t do it to harm you, kitten. If I had, you wouldn’t be breathing now.”

“Then why?” She remembered the intense pleasure that had accompanied every pull of her blood. Was that his intent? Had it been purely for pleasure? If he had derived even half the pleasure from it that she had, she guessed she could understand his motive.

“Just saw red at the thought of some bloke playin’ around that close to places he had no bleedin’ right bein’ near, is all. Much as I ‘preciate the thought, couldn’t you have got it somewhere else? I’m sorry if I hurt you, Buffy. I just… I needed to mark you as mine. An’ before you say anything—I know I don’t have any rights to you, but, well, ‘s not the way the demon looks at things. An’ you had already marked yourself as mine… I was just doin’ it properly.”

His words left her spinning; she had tried to follow him around the bend, but try as she might she was unable to keep up.

“What are you talking about, Spike?”

“Your little tattoo, love. Like I said, ‘s a right pretty little thing and I do appreciate it, it’s just…”

“Tattoo? Spike, I don’t have a tattoo.”

He quirked his eyebrow at her. “Really? So the pretty little heart with a railroad spike through it is what… a figment of my imagination?”

Buffy sat up, forgetting her embarrassment at her nakedness in light of what he was saying. “What? Where? I can’t have…? How?”

Spike couldn’t help the laugh that burst free at the sight of her distraught face and the million bloody questions to which she was petulantly demanding answers. He took her hand and dragged her to sit on he end of the bed, in front of the full length mirror standing on the far side of the room. Grasping her knee, he gently pried her thighs apart and watched as shock washed across her face at the sight of both his mark, livid against her skin, and the bright little tattoo so clearly representing him emblazoned just above it on the tender flesh just shy of the soft brown curls.

She stared disbelievingly at the tattoo. Her fingers delicately traced the lines, as if the tactile contact could summon forth the
memory of its origins. She lifted her face to look at Spike, to tell him that she had no memory of acquiring the mark which had both pleased and enraged him, only to see his face clouded with desire, his eyes fixed on her fingers, mesmerised by their movements as they ran gracefully across her flesh, alluringly close to her damp folds.

Emboldened by his obvious desire, she allowed one finger to trace across her outer lips, running slowly up before dipping between the folds to tease gently at her clit. Her breath caught at the touch of her own hand even as she longed for a cooler touch, for his fingers to trace the path her own had followed. Spike’s appreciative moan, however, encouraged her further,
and she experimented with different pressures against the sensitive nub. Twisting and tweaking it gently, tracing lazy circles then pressing down to rub firmly, all the while keeping her eyes fixed with wonder on her lover’s expressive face. The sight of the slayer timidly touching herself for his pleasure caused a dual swelling in both his unbeating heart and his eager cock.
A hiss escaped him as his already painful erection strained harder against the restrictive denim, and he moved in an attempt to ease his discomfort.

His movement broke the spell under which the sight of his obvious desire had held Buffy; embarrassment coloured her cheeks and a soft distraught whimper escaped her as realisation of her actions hit. She scampered quickly back up the bed to take refuge under the covers, her mortification clearly evident as she clutched the sheet tightly around her body. “Oh God, what did I do? I’m sorry, you must think…”

Spike laughed softly as he moved once more to her side and wrapped his arms around her unyielding body. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, pet. Was a bloody lovely sight.” He gently grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “You never need to apologise to me for anything we do in bed, love. There is no right and wrong, you understand me? There is only what is right for us. If you ever don’t like something I do to you, you let me know. If you like something in particular you can let me know that too, though your body does a good enough job of lettin’ me know that.” A self-satisfied smirk graced his beautiful face before his features softened once more with genuine concern. “I mean it, kitten. ’s never anything we do together or to each other that is wrong or dirty or any of that other bloody rot that people come out with. If it feels
right, or good, for you… chances are it will for me too.” His head tilted to the side, his blue eyes holding hers with their intent gaze. “Okay?”

At her slight nod of acquiescence he released her chin and captured her lips in a soft, sensual kiss, astounding her with his tenderness. She relaxed into his arms once more, allowing the sheet to slip as her hands reached out to hold him, one snaking behind his head to tangle again in his unruly curls and one dropping to trace patterns across his back. The kiss
deepened and they lost themselves in each other, touching, tasting, exploring.

Desperate for the touch of his skin beneath her eagerly adventurous hand, Buffy grasped a fistful of his t-shirt and pulled it up out of his waistband. She slid her hand beneath the now-freed material to delight in the smooth silken skin stretched over taut rippling muscles and gasped; he was just beautiful.

Spike broke their kiss reluctantly and pulled away, ripping the shirt off over his head and dropping it to the floor before ducking his head to capture the soft golden skin of her neck with his mouth. He kissed and nipped his way slowly to her pulse point and suckled hungrily; the sweet tease of her blood just below her flesh made his mouth tingle, and with a deep groan of longing he sucked harder, her body writhing in pleasure beneath his wandering hands.

He rolled to his back to pop the buttons of his fly and, with a relieved sigh, allowed his straining erection to spring free. He noted with pleasure the deep crimson mark adorning her neck and smiled to himself at the thought of her friends and her Watcher’s reaction to that. Sitting up, Spike removed his boots and socks and then turned and pulled the sheet that was still draped across her body, uncovering her once more for his inspection. Satisfaction lit him as her hands reached urgently to try and pull him back to her. “Patience, kitten,” he chuckled as he fended off her quick little hands. He slipped the jeans down his slim hips and muscled legs to pool unwanted on the floor before he turned back to her.

Buffy’s eyes widened as she took in for the first time the sight of a naked man, her lover, and licked her lips subconsciously. Her hand reached out hesitantly to timidly touch his cool pale length, and she gasped as it jumped unexpectedly under her gently questing fingers.

With a soft hiss Spike moved closer, his quiet words encouraging her to continue in their exploration. When her hand closed lightly around him wrapping him in her heat, a groan of longing escaped and he desperately urged her to continue. “’s alright, love. You won’t hurt me, kitten… a little tighter. Oh yes, Buffy, that’s it. That’s my girl.” His obvious pleasure and babbled words buoyed her to further experimentation and she began to stroke his length more confidently, squeezing him firmly and stroking the soft head lightly with her fingers as she reached it. A few drops of precome had gathered, and she rubbed them in lazy circles over the sensitive flesh before carefully rolling back his foreskin and tracing the newly exposed ridges beneath the soft head. Lost in her own captivated explorations, she missed the look of adoration and tenderness in the vampire’s eyes that was quickly followed by a deep burning lust as her hand ran once more down his shaft to the base and beyond to cup and gently caress his balls. With a growl he grasped her shoulders and in one move lay her down and covered her body with his own, settling himself between her legs as his mouth devoured hers.

Buffy’s hips arched up to meet him, urging him with unspoken pleas to continue. He broke off the kiss, allowing the girl beneath him the opportunity to breathe. “We don’t have to go any further, pet. ‘s up to you,” he rumbled, voice thick with desire as he took in the sight of the beautiful slayer, dishevelled and wanton, her eyes bright with lust and fixed longingly on him as she allowed her hands to roam hungrily across his back.

“I… I want… this. I want you, Spike, want to do this. Now. Please,” she responded breathlessly as she arched her hips towards him once more, seeking the contact she craved.

“Shh, love. Let me do this… don’t want to hurt you.” Spike captured her eyes with his own, needing to know that his words had made their way through the fog of lust and need and had been understood. When she nodded her comprehension he leaned in to kiss her tenderly. “Want to make this so good for you, Buffy love.”

He nuzzled against her neck and kissed her throat, his hands moving across her body and drawing moans of pleasure and need from both of them as he carefully positioned himself at her entrance and edged fractionally inside her. His breath caught with a hiss as he felt her warmth enclose his head, and drawing on every ounce of willpower he possessed he fought the urge to plunge into her hot welcoming channel. With agonising slowness he eased further into her, and when he encountered the barrier he knew he would find he slowly withdrew and gently eased inside once more. Slowly, little by little and with infinite care, he stretched the membrane barring him entrance to her depths, all the while continuing his relentless assault on her body with hands and mouth; when the barrier finally gave, allowing him to press forwards and fill her completely, if there was any pain from the rendering she didn't notice it, lost as she was in the exquisite torment Spike was wreaking upon her. Spike stilled his movements, allowing a few moments for her body to adjust to him and for him to regain the control over his own body that the feel of her hot velvet walls enclosing him fully had all but torn from him.

He gazed into her eyes; her lust was shining clearly, evident for any who looked, but there was something more than that. As she stared back into his, she noted a similar look in his gaze; beyond the obvious hunger, Spike’s eyes were tender and loving. She had dreamed of one day being looked at like that, like she was the world to someone; she had
never imagined that she would find it in the beautiful face of her mortal enemy.

Buffy reached up to stroke his face tenderly, tracing the strong line of his cheek before tangling her fingers in the gorgeous wildly tousled curls and drawing his mouth down to hers for a long slow kiss. As the kiss broke off, Spike began to move within her, gently at first; as her hips rose to meet him and her breathing quickened, however, his movements intensified.

She was drowning, lost in the sensations her beautiful vampire was inflicting upon her. She clung desperately to him, Spike her only anchor as he swept her away on a wave of desire. His mouth was everywhere, peppering her with soft kisses, nipping her flesh gently, tracing her body with his tongue. Anywhere his mouth did not torture his skilled hands sought out
instead, teasing her blissfully abused nipples, gliding across the dip of her waist, cupping her butt to lift her hips to a new angle as he plunged into her depths. All the sensations combined to leave Buffy reeling with their impact as her body raced toward the completion it so desperately craved.

He felt her walls tremble around him, noted her breathing become more ragged as her moans intensify to needy mewls. With a slight change in the angle of his hips, he ground himself harder against her clit, his mouth crashing down to claim hers as her body bucked beneath him and her hot silken walls massaged him closer to his own completion. He captured her cries of pleasure with his mouth, and her final adoring whimper of his name as he drove once more into her welcoming heat was enough to steal the last of his will; helpless to fight it, he felt his balls clench as his body followed hers into bliss. As his orgasm ripped through him, her name slipped from his lips only to be seized in turn by hers as she pressed her mouth desperately against his.

He held her tiny form, gracefully wrapped around him and snuggled peacefully against his chest. A smile played across his face as he stroked her hair and watched her sleep. The curtains had been firmly secured by the anxious slayer before she had allowed herself to succumb to the rest her body so desperately required after their night of pleasure. She had turned moist green eyes upon him, asking quietly for him to stay with her, to hold her while she slept and to be there when she awoke in the morning. He had known that he should say no, should grab up his clothes and disappear back to Dru, to the
woman who had held his loyalty for over a hundred years; instead he had found himself agreeing, cuddling up to the slayer and holding her tenderly as she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a soft contented smile on her kiss-swollen lips.

As he watched her he tried not to wonder what the morrow would bring, tried not to lose himself in doubts. He didn’t know how, or why, but he could no longer believe that his future lay with his dark princess; rather, something deep inside him knew with perfect certainty that he belonged with the golden beauty asleep in his arms. How they would face their future, contend with the obvious problems of their very different natures, he didn’t know. All he knew was that with this small girl, whose life he had sworn to take, whose sole purpose was to destroy his kind, he felt complete in a way he
had not until that point of his existence. He would do whatever it took to keep her, whatever was required to continue to see the love shining in her eyes when she looked at him, to continue to feel the wonder of her wrapping herself trustingly around his body and sleeping peacefully, knowing that the master vampire at her side would dust before he allowed anyone or anything to harm her.

She carried his mark twice over; it having been placed there once by the hand of a stranger and once by him in the ancient vampire tradition—his fangs marking her undeniably to the rest of the demon world as his. Now all he had to do was find a way to show the human world—her world—that they belonged to each other. He placed a gentle kiss against her hair and allowed her soft breathing, her beating heart, and the warm sweet scent of her to pull him down to join her in slumber.