Cold Comfort
Buffy shivered as she stepped across the cold stone floor of the Mansion’s courtyard, wishing she’d worn something warmer. It was dawn, and the pale sunlight – Buffy’s only ally, bar Mr. Pointy – was stirring over her shoulder as she carefully opened the door. Of course, the sunlight couldn’t follow her inside, so she would have to tread carefully. It was a gamble, coming here, she knew. There was a chance he would be awake. But after discussing it with the scoobies, everyone had agreed that Buffy had a better chance of killing Angel as he slept, than in a straight fight.
Everyone except Buffy. She hadn’t been able to do it before, when she’d had a clean shot at him. Perhaps, in a fight to the death, with her blood up, the fight in her would kick in and she’d do it to save her own skin. But could she look at her lover and kill him in cold blood? Stake him as he slept?
Buffy shook her head to clear it, steeling herself to do what needed to be done. People had died because she hadn’t been able to kill Angel. Jenny had died. Next it could be Giles, or Mom, or Willow…She had to do it.
Creeping softly across the floor, Buffy headed towards the inner door, when she was startled by a voice in the gloom.
“Hello, pet,” Spike said, in his usual mocking tone, edged with the hint of bitterness that had been there ever since he had fallen victim to a falling organ and been confined to a wheelchair.
“Spike!” Buffy hissed, whirling round to confront him, stake raised. He wheeled out of the shadows, and Buffy’s grip on her weapon relaxed as she remembered that the vampire wasn’t at full fighting capacity.
“If you’re looking for Angelus, you’ll have to wait,” Spike sneered, “He’s busy shagging Dru at the moment.”
“Angel and…Dru?” Buffy repeated, voice faltering as a sick feeling rose in her stomach. Angel and Dru. Of course Angel was with Dru.
“Yeah, love. But just start a line at the door, all of Angel’s sluts can queue up waiting for their turn with him.”
“I am not Angel’s slut!” Buffy protested indignantly.
“Sure, love. And it wasn’t you playing the whore for your precious Angel and spreading your legs for him that brought old Angelus out?” Spike mocked her.
Buffy hung her head. Spike was right. She was a slut. It was just what all her friends thought ever since they had found out why Angel had lost his soul.
“Still, love,” Spike continued, “I’m not sure he’ll be interested, however willing you are, he’s had his fun with you, taken your virginity. I doubt you’re skilled enough to amuse him for long.”
Incensed by his taunting, Buffy raised her arm and lunged at him with the stake, but her anger made her sloppy, and the blow was easily intercepted. Spike’s arm shot out and took hold of her wrist, immobilising her stake hand. He was surprisingly strong, and Buffy wondered just how much of his strength he had regained. She made a mental note not to underestimate him. Or to let his taunting get to her. Two could play at that game.
“And I suppose an experienced old whore like Dru is much more skilled at pleasuring him,” Buffy retorted, determined to hit him where it hurt, and was rewarded by a flicker of pain passing over her enemy’s face. Still he did not let go of her arm.
“Shut your mouth about her,” Spike insisted, pulling her roughly, so their faces were level.
Just then, a loud scream of pleasure could be heard from the other room, Dru’s voice calling Angel’s name.
Spike flinched and Buffy bit her lip. Then their gazes met in a brief moment of mutual sympathy and raw need. Before either had time to think, Spike’s free hand shot out and pulled Buffy’s head down to his, crushing their mouths together in a bruising, hate-filled kiss.
Buffy had no time to think, her mouth responded hungrily to her enemy’s kiss, a cruel kiss that was as much about causing pain as finding comfort, all teeth and tongues, her fingernails raking cruelly and desperately down the side of his face.
It lasted only a few brief seconds before Buffy realised what she was doing and with whom, and pulled away in shock, her stake clattering to the floor and her hand flying to her mouth, where it lingered, fingering her lips, nipped and swollen from the vampire’s kiss.
If Spike had smirked at her, or made a sarcastic quip, she would have staked him there and then and run out, virtue fluttering. But instead, she saw her own confused look of shock and disgust, hurt and need for comfort reflected in his blue eyes. Funny, she had never noticed that they were blue, before.
Seeing that she wasn’t running away, Spike reached out and pulled her into his lap, where his mouth found hers again. He grabbed fistfuls of her blonde hair, pulling her close to him as he kissed her greedily, as though she were the tonic that would take away his pain.
Spike didn’t understand why his body was responding so eagerly to the touch of the girl’s warm skin. He could hear her heart thumping in her chest. He traced the pale white skin of her neck with his tongue, but strangely felt no desire to bite. Instead, he lowered his mouth to the v of her neckline, as his hands simultaneously slid up her back. Spike peeled the straps of her vest down until her breasts were laid bare to the cold air and the warmth of Spike’s mouth on her nipples. Buffy’s head was thrown back in ecstasy as she snaked one hand around the back of his head, pulling him closer. Spike’s hands slid down to her thighs and began pushing her skirt up. Buffy panicked slightly.
“What are you doing?” she gasped. Spike pulled his mouth away from her breast to reply.
“What’s the matter, love? Don’t pretend you don’t want this. I can smell your arousal, you know,” he said cockily, inhaling deeply and unnecessarily for effect.
“You’re a pig, Spike,” Buffy said, colouring, pushing at his chest, but making no effort to move from her position on his lap. Spike merely chuckled and ignoring her squeals of protest, lifted Buffy and set her down so she was straddling his lap, where he resumed his exploration of her thighs, sliding his hands further and further up until Buffy could feel herself getting wetter and wetter, despite everything.
Spike groaned as his fingers finally reached their destination, moving her flimsy panties aside and plunging into the soft wetness beneath. Buffy covered her mouth to keep from crying out, instead making a muffled sound that fired Spike to move his fingers faster and faster.
The sight of the young, warm, Slayer writhing in ecstasy above him caused Spike’s jeans to tighten unbearably over his cock, and he began to fumble with the zipper, pulling Buffy close to whisper hotly in her ear as he did so.
“You little slut,” he whispered, “Do you get this wet for every vamp you fight? You really are - “
“Shut up, Spike,” Buffy said, silencing him with a needy kiss. She was too turned on now to be offended by his words, now. If anything, they only served to fuel her growing desire. Maybe she was a slut, that’s what everyone thought, so why not be what everyone already thought, a whore spreading her legs for any horny vamp she came across. And yet, at the same time, she knew that was not what was happening here, although if pressed she would not have been able to define exactly what was happening. All she knew was that it was something they both needed, beyond either of their control, and she reached down to help Spike free his erect cock from his jeans, groaning involuntarily as she took hold of his hard length.
Just then there was another exaggerated moan from the other room, and Spike growled. Without another word, Spike slid her panties down, and Buffy kicked them away before lowering herself onto him, flinging her head back again as he entered her, filling her up, giving her the comfort and pain she needed all at once.
She tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head to reveal his pale but well muscled chest. Cruelly, Buffy raked her fingers over his back, drawing blood. God, she hated him, she thought as she fucked him hard, moving her hips with speed and stamina that only a Slayer would be capable of. Spike pulled her head down to his for another kiss, a kiss that started off hard as their first kiss had been, but slowly, inexplicably, changed into something gentler, no less desperate, but closer to passion than violence.
It took only a few more thrusts to bring Buffy to climax, and she pulled her mouth away from Spike’s to let out a loud cry which drowned out the moans from the inner room, until Spike forgot that he and Buffy were not the only people in the world. God, she was beautiful, he found himself thinking in spite of himself, as he came hard inside her.
For a while they stayed, still, in the sudden eerie silence, Spike’s head cradled against her bare chest, rising and falling with her breath.
What have I done? Buffy thought to herself, and peeled away from Spike as realisation kicked in. Quickly, she covered herself up, searching on the floor for her underwear and her stake. Once dressed, she looked at Spike, and for a while, their eyes held, uncertainly.
“Look, Spike, if you tell anyone about his…” Buffy began.
“Hardly!” Spike scoffed, “Wouldn’t do much for my reputation, now, would it, love?”
“Fine.” Buffy said.
“Fine.” Spike said.
And like that, the spell was broken, they were back to being mortal enemies… if only either one of them could shake of the nagging feeling that things would never be quite the same between them again. Buffy turned to go, turning her back on the cold comfort of Spike’s arms and walking back into the sunlight. Too late, she remembered her plan to stake Angel as he slept.
tbc
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