| Alone No More by spikeskat |
| Chapter #12 - Ch. 12 |
| A/N: For those of you that may have read this at my site, I've tweaked the scene in this chapter for posting on this archive. If you want to read the chapter in it's entirety, check out my site. ^_^ Instead of going right and heading back towards her motel room, Buffy turned left, heading in the direction of the nicer parts of Sunnydale. Since the Slayer knew that she was going to catch flack from the vampire – who was no doubt pacing back and forth within the small confines of their rented room – she may as well make the most of her time. He’d said there were seven, which meant that she and Spike had missed one. A mistake that could have proven fatal. And she chalked the discovery into the column of why-I-needed-to-meet-the-bus-from-Vegas-even-if-you-couldn’t-go-with-me as a ready excuse for why she’d gone out without him. Even he would have to see the logic in that. Oh, who was she kidding…Spike dealt in one hundred percent emotion. He flew by the seat of his pants, even if nine times out of ten it ended up biting him in the ass. Only in this joint quest had he played the levelheaded vampire, thinking before reacting. The Slayer ignored that inner-voice that told her she would do well to emulate the vampire. No, she needed to identify all the players at once. Then as darkness fell, the two would split up and make short work of the remaining Order’s assassins that had stuck around Sunnydale. The death of the assassin that had chosen to oversee the bus station should alert the other members that she was back in town…thus, hopefully sparing the lives of her friends and family. She’d honor her pact with the man on the telephone. Right down to where she claimed that hers would be the last face they’d see. True, so blatant a kill had now altered their plans of taking them off one by one in rather quick succession, but honestly… A sudden thought struck her and she halted in her tracks. Her mind worked through several locations until she realized that she was going to need the vampire’s input as well. Abandoning her earlier (irrational) plan of maybe taking out a few more before nightfall, Buffy turned around and hurried back to the motel room she shared with Spike. ~*~*~*~*~ She barely had the key card in the slot when the door was suddenly yanked open and the Slayer found herself hauled inside the room and pinned against the wall. ‘Yep! Pissed off,’ was the thought that flashed through her mind as she opened her mouth to tell him why she’d gone off alone; his face mere inches from her own as he glared down at her. “Spike, I can expl—” ‘Or not.’ The explanation died on her lips, Spike ravaging her open mouth. Thought flew right out the window and she wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering herself to him...to what he was making her feel. Spike could smell the blood on the Slayer, his demon reveling in her obvious kill, although it raged at her for leaving without telling him. It had been an unspoken agreement between the two that while they were in Sunnydale, neither went anywhere without the other. But, she’d completely disregarded their plan and gone out alone. And he wanted to beat her for blatantly putting herself at risk like that. For making him pace the tiny walkway allotted by the furniture arrangement while he waited for her return – the worry he’d felt at her prolonged absence just increasing his ire. When he’d felt her draw near, he was all set to punish her, to spank her delectable ass until she couldn’t sit down for at least a week. Instead he was kissing the breath out of her, invading her personal space. Grinding into her as he held her immobile against the wall. That she wasn’t protesting in the least his rough treatment of her just goaded him to further manhandling. He released her long enough to shred her pants, the material no match for his claws or his impatience. The tiny scrap of lace convering her mound provided even less resistance. A snap and a hiss of a zipper, and then he was buried inside, his entry rough, but not terribly so, due to the moisture pooling at her opening – her legs lifting to wrap around his hips as he took her against the wall. In and out, over and over, the pumping of his hips grinding her back up and down against the wall. Until even that wasn’t enough, and he turned to lay her back against the dresser. Clothes, weapons…they all went flying as the Slayer sought purchase against something stable with her hands. Finding nothing useful, she gripped his upper arms and he braced himself against the dresser’s surface. Their grunts and groans as his cock slid in and out of her pussy mingled with the increased slapping of flesh on flesh. Neither minded the raw passion of their coupling. The act alleviating the worry of one, while being a natural conclusion to the adrenaline rush of the kill for the other. Spike pulled out of her suddenly and flipped her onto her stomach. The slayer groaned at the loss, but a moment later she felt his hard length slide back into her quim to continue the bruising pace of before. She arched beneath him, thrilling at the new angle of penetration this position afforded her. He was talking dirty now. Crude explicit words that were turning her on...and making her wetter. And, if she wasn’t so swept away with how he was making her feel, she might have answered him with a few choice words of her own. She, however, was reduced to babbling, and pleading. “You wanna come, Slayer?” he asked between gritted teeth as he tried to stave off his orgasm. Beneath him, she nodded helplessly. With his free hand, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and hauled her up off the dresser, leaving his hand in place for a moment until he was sure she wouldn’t move – only then did he return it to her hip. His tongue licked a trail along her neck to tease his recent claim marks. Her eyes widened as that spot seemed to be linked directly with her sex, and Buffy felt him groan into the sweat-slickened flesh of her throat as her body unconsciously squeezed him. “More?” he murmured huskily at her neck, to which she just nodded again. And again he teased the marks, this time with blunt teeth. The next time it was fangs, scraping softly along her flesh. All the while, he never let up on his punishing pace. Each time he teased his marks, he seemed to know the moment the slightest bit more would send her over the edge…and he’d draw back. Leaving her whimpering and poised on the edge. Her frustration continued to mount and she began to wonder how he’d managed to not come yet himself. Then he was biting her. Deep like before. Her body seemed to splinter into a thousand pieces, lights dancing before her eyes as wave after wave of untold ecstasy slammed through her body, the only sound coming out of her mouth a choked gasp. Her brain unable to function. Nearly weak in the aftermath, she practically collapsed face first onto the dresser; Spike’s fangs were still buried in her neck so he ended up draping himself over her back. Suddenly, he tore his mouth away, rearing up to pump furiously at her pussy, on the brink of orgasm. His grip where he held one side of her tightened almost painfully, his thrust almost spasmodic. Then he was filling her, causing a mini shockwave through her system, his bellow of completion reverberating around their tiny room. After the last tremor passed through his body, Spike managed to slowly ease from her abused passage before collapsing against the wall, struggling to remain standing. The slayer, for her part, was still unmoving on top of the dresser, her body heaving as her heart rate took its own sweet time slowing down – not caring in the least the picture she made with her jeans in tatters around her ankles, bare to the waist and slumped over the dresser. The vampire wasn’t fairing much better; though he didn’t need to breathe, he was mimicking her actions, panting and struggling to recover. After a minute or two, he shimmied out of his jeans, pulled the Slayer off of the dresser and placed her on the bed. The shirt and bra came off, then he knelt at her feet and quickly removed her boots and socks. He settled them beneath the covers, his arms automatically wrapping around her and drawing her back against his chest. “Wanna tell me what you were doin’ out alone, pet?” Spike asked after a bit. He patted himself on the back for voicing the question without any of the anger he’d carried before. “Went to the bus station—” “Rather gathered that much. What ‘m wantin’ to know is why you thought you should go without me.” “Well, there was the small matter of it being daylight. Oh…and wait…you being shot!” “Don’t think ya wanna go there, pet. Or, we could discuss the fact that you didn’ seem to have your tanks topped off either…li’l matter of bein’ Slayer on tap.” “I rested…and beside, you didn’t take that much anyway.” “Didn’ take that much! Bloody hell, Slayer! When I woke to the taste of your blood, I couldn’ even think for the bloodlust. Just a taste of you is enough to make me lose control…an’ me not completely awake? Any other vamp an’ you woulda’ been dead!” “Wouldn’t’a done it for any other vamp,” she mumbled. But he heard. And his eyes closed in wonderment, his arms tightening his hold about her. The gift of her blood… It left him speechless for once. Before it had been something that was his due. His prize upon defeat of the Slayer. Now…to have it freely given to him. It just made it more precious. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and the two lay there entwined. The only sound in the room, the faint echoes as other guests were heard either exiting or entering their rooms. When he felt he could speak past the lump that seemed to have lodged in his throat, Spike asked her about the bus station. “There was one…waiting for me. I got him to talk before I slit his throat.” She said it so calmly, as if his death were nothing of importance. And, it was true. Although he’d been human, he’d been summarily lumped into the category of “Order,” thus sealing his death warrant. Spike waited, letting her speak. “We missed one. There’s seven…well, six now. I was all set to make the most of the daylight hours and take out a few more, but then I thought of something.” “Wha’s that, luv?” “Even if I did…say…get a couple of them. The Order’d know. And punish them. My mom. Giles. My friends. I’m good, and I’m fast. But not that fast.” “Which was why we were supposed to wait until tonight.” “Yeah, but how would the Order know that I’m here? And, who’s to say when they’d start—” “We won’t let them hurt your family, Slayer,” Spike interrupted. “I know…and I know how we’re gonna do it.” ~*~*~*~*~ As soon as it was possible the pair slipped out of their motel room. Clad head to toe in black, they easily blended with the shadows. Their destination was a pay phone, still in the seedier side of Sunnydale, but far enough away from their motel that they wouldn't draw notice. Spike stood by her side as Buffy placed the call, and she drew upon his silent, unwavering support like she once did with her friends. She felt the stillness wash over him as the connection was made and the line began to ring. “Hello!” Giles answered on the second ring. “Giles?” “Buffy! Buffy, is that you?” But like before, she didn’t answer. Was already conversing with the one that had drawn her to Sunnydale. |