With All My Heart
Chapters Four ~ Six
Chapter Four
What the fuck am I doin’ here?
It wasn’t the first time in the past few months that he had asked himself this question. Spike rolled his eyes in irritation as Peaches and that Immortal git continued to bandy words behind him. He stared unseeingly through the tempered glass, doing an admirable job of ignoring the others in the room.
God, he was getting almost as bad as the broody one. Not for much longer, though. He clenched his jaw in determination. One last look, a final metaphorical stake to the heart, and he was gone. Sod his Sire. Sod the fucking Shanshu. And most of all sod that irritating bitch that had crushed what was left of his battered heart under her stylish yet affordable little boots. Ol’ Spike was done. Finished with being the Slayer’s lapdog. Love’s bitch no more.
It was time to cut his losses and head off into the sunset. Cozumel was nice this time of year, or so he’d heard. No way was he hanging about to get sucked into that mess that Angelus was stirring up back in LA, especially if Little Miss Destiny was going to be at his side. He may like a little pain, but even he had limits.
Fuckin’ hell, would those two prats ever shut up? Reminiscing about the bad old days with Darla and Dru. Why bring up old shit? Get the show on the road, for fuck’s sake. He had a hot date to keep with a bottle of mescal. Spike flung himself away from the view and into a chair, throwing his head back to glower at the ceiling.
To quote the Slayer, this sucked beyond the telling of it.
His efforts to compartmentalize his feelings for Buffy were failing miserably. Who was he trying to kid? He loved the stupid bint from the top of her head to her dainty toes and every shag-able inch in between. Those last days on the Hellmouth had given him a faint hope that she might finally allow herself to admit her feelings for him, but he should have known better. The second that amulet fell into his palm he knew that he wouldn’t be walking out of that cavern. She must have known it, too; else she would never have said those three little words.
‘I love you.’
‘No, you don’t. But thanks for sayin’ it.’
Could it have been any more bleedin’ tragic? Probably. But he’d known with absolute certainty that had he given her the answer she craved, she would never have left him. She would have cheerfully continued to grip his hand, following him out in a blaze of glory.
Coming back had pissed him off beyond measure. And apparently he hadn’t suffered enough for his transgressions, because of all places to be sent back to the bloody PTB had picked Angel’s stomping grounds. Talk about irony. And all was most certainly not as it seemed in Happyland. In fact, the situation was fast approaching critical. The Cheerleader was gone, Fred was now some kind of ass-kicking Smurfette, Oxford was a mess, and even Gunn was getting twitchy. That was saying something.
In the midst of all this was his Sire. A Sire that acted more and more like the Angelus of old, even with the anchored soul. Angel had taken great pleasure in relating the gossip about the Slayer and her bizarre sex-capades, and when this prophecy had come to light, he had crowed about it for days.
That, more than anything, had made up his mind. He’d had enough. Enough of the constant fight for even a sliver of her affections. Enough of always coming in second to The Big Giant Head. He. Was. Done.
One last look. One last breath of her scent. Once he’d done that, he was gone. Angel didn’t know it yet, but he would be heading back to Los Angeles minus one souled vamp.
Spike lifted his head when the intercom announced Buffy’s arrival. Showtime.
While Angel and The Immortal strutted and preened, he merely made the concession of getting to his feet. He jammed his fists into the pockets of his duster to hide a sudden case of the shakes and waited.
The door swept open and she walked in. For a moment, he was as blinded as the other two by her bright smile and wholesome beauty. That first impression lasted a whole two seconds before he took a deep breath and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.
‘Dunno who this bint is, but she sure as FUCK ain’t Buffy!’
He opened his mouth to denounce her to Angel then clamped it shut so fast he nearly bit off the tip of his tongue. Now, why would I want to do a stupid thing like that? He took a step back, an evil smirk settling over his face as he watched the award winning performance being played out in front of him.
“Tony!” she exclaimed, smiling as The Immortal pressed a fervent kiss to her cheek. “Miss me?”
“Always, cara mia. You had a nice rest?” he asked, solicitously leading her over to his desk and pulling out the chair for her.
“Wonderful. Everyone is so nice.” Buffy waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I can’t sit, Tony. I haven’t greeted Angel yet!”
Angel held out his arms and she smiled as she moved into his embrace, her own arms twining around his waist as she snuggled close. “Angel…” she sighed. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again.” Pulling his head down to hers, she kissed him passionately.
Unable to keep still, Spike paced a slow circle around the couple. Surely Angel could sense the difference now that she was plastered right under his nose?
Apparently not. The first thing Angel did when he lifted his head was give Spike a shit-eating grin. A grin that said, 'I told you, didn’t I, boy? She’s mine and she’ll always be mine!’
Keeping his face carefully blank, Spike completed his circuit and waited patiently for her reaction to his presence.
It was almost laughable. She narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. “Spike. Why are you here?” She looked up at Angel. “Why is he here?” she whispered dramatically.
Angel chuckled derisively. “Not sure. He always was a glutton for punishment.”
Even knowing that this Buffy was an imposter, the words still stung. He was seconds from losing his temper when the air conditioning kicked on and a familiar, mouth-watering fragrance began to fill the room. Vanilla, sweat... and power.
Slayer. Buffy.
Spike was instantly hard. His nostrils flared and he lifted his head, his eyes unerringly finding the air vent high up on the wall. He casually strolled closer and stood directly underneath, not missing the faint movement behind the metal slats. Narrowed blue eyes instantly found sparkling hazel staring down at him. Turning in a swirl of leather, he faced the others with a casual smile.
“Well, I’ll just be off then. Let you lot sort out this nasty prophecy business. May the best man win, yeah? Peaches, I’ll catch up with you later.” He reached the door and gave them a casual salute, slipping out before a word of protest could be uttered. The dumbfounded expression on his Sire’s face was priceless, but he didn’t have time to savor it right now.
He had himself a Slayer to track.
Out in the hallway, he stopped and looked upward. His sensitive ears picked up the stealthy, shuffling sounds above his head. He grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he matched his pace to hers.
“Someone’s in the ceiling,” he sing-songed.
The movement stopped and an infectious giggle reached his ears.
“Slayerrrrrr. Here kitty, kitty…”
Another burst of mirth and more muffled thumping as she started off again.
Spike spotted the next vent just ahead and sprinted towards it, snatching up a small bench as he ran. As quietly as possible he climbed up on the bench, pulled the metal free, and boosted himself up and in.
An overwhelming sense of elation filled him as he spotted her coming towards him, her head down as she slid along. He lay there, not making a sound, until she was almost upon him. Suddenly sensing that she wasn’t alone, she lifted her head and found herself nose to nose with a grinning Spike.
“Hello, cutie…”
She gave a little shrieking laugh and reared back, hands and feet scrabbling for purchase against the dusty surface. Getting away became a moot point when she found herself pinned beneath an extremely aroused and impressively hard vampire. They shared one heated glance before he lowered his head and captured her lips in a lusty, toe-curling kiss.
When he finally allowed her to break away for some air, Buffy buried her face in his neck. “Oh God, you smell so good,” she moaned, unable to stop touching him and reacquainting herself with every hard, beautifully sculptured inch of him.
“Mmm, Slayer.” His teeth caught and worried at a velvety earlobe. “Knew it was you the instant I smelled you. Even caked with five pounds of dust, I knew it was you. My Buffy…” The possessive words were tinged with desperation as he covered her mouth with his once more.
Buffy pushed his coat off his shoulders, refusing to let him break the kiss as he impatiently jerked his arms free and tossed it aside. He slipped a hand under her bottom and lifted her to meet the grinding thrust of his hips.
“Buffy…Jesus, baby…missed you so much!” he rasped, his free hand tangling in her hair to hold her still as he devoured her lips before skimming a wet path along the curve of her throat to her pulsing jugular.
“Ever had sex in the ceiling before?” she gasped out. “’Cause, you know...just askin'. Plenty of Italians doing it in these offices. Was thinking we could be kinda… different.”
Her shirt was pushed up, her bra unfastened, and her jeans undone before she even finished speaking. She kicked one leg free while she attacked his belt and the button fly of his Levis. There was a rough, tearing sound and her panties went flying. Shoving his jeans down with her still-sneakered feet, she reached down and caught hold of his throbbing length, hissing and throwing her head back as he drove inside her sopping warmth.
Heaven. Nirvana. Elysium. Shangri-la. None of them could hope to compare to the complete and total rapture he felt as he buried himself in her incredibly tight heat. He growled as she sank her teeth into his shoulder and bucked her hips upwards, driving him even deeper if possible.
Buffy writhed demandingly under him, her eyes blazing like emeralds in the dark. “Screw finesse,” she panted. “Fuck me. Hard. Make me burn, Spike.” Her eyes widened and she hastened to qualify her remark. “You know, in the good, non-fiery dusty-ending on the Hellmouthy kind of way. The ‘You-fuck-me-so-hard-and-so-good-I-want-to-melt-into-you-and-be-one-with-you’ kind of way."
He smothered his laughter against her breasts and began to move, slamming into her so hard she slid a few inches against the slick metal surface with each thrust. She gloried in his savagery, reveled in it, primal grunts and moans escaping through lips that were bruised from his continued biting kisses.
The situation made her want to giggle, being fucked into a sliding rapture as her butt skidded along the dusty metal. Trust her reunion with Spike to be so bizarre. A devastating ashy end to her love, a miserable period of mourning after an escape from horribly unloving friends-all while her own face was transplanted on one who was more than a little disturbed. Yeah, trust Spike that on top of all the other difficulties, he had to fuck her brains out while hanging over the top of another Buffy knock-off. Her life was so ironic, but it hurt so good.
Her first orgasm ripped through her as he ground his pelvis into her clit, his steady litany of harsh praise hissed against the sweaty flesh of her neck driving her screaming over the edge.
Both were oblivious to the squealing protests of their metal prison. Spike could feel her inner muscles clamping down on his cock as he hurtled towards completion. He growled, viciously determined to have her fall with him this time. Meeting her dazed eyes, he silently begged her permission.
Buffy didn’t hesitate. After pulling him down for a hard, hungry kiss, she tilted her head and pressed his face back into her neck, feeling the ridges of his forehead against her cheek as he called his demon forth. A ragged sob of joy slipped from her panting mouth as she felt the sharp fangs slide home.
“Yes!” She cried out, her body convulsing around his once more. After taking a few mouthfuls of her intoxicating essence, Spike threw his head back and howled her name as he came with one final grinding thrust. He spilled what felt like two years worth of himself inside her before he finally slumped over her, his harsh, unnecessary breaths matching hers.
“Wow, that was…”
She never got to finish that sentence. Her wide eyes flew to meet his as there was an ominous grinding noise and the bottom of the air shaft began to pull away from its moorings with a screech of protesting metal.
Spike had the foresight to wrap his arms around her and pull her head into his chest. “Hold on, pet. Gonna be a wild ride,” he had time to say before it gave way completely and they began to fall. Managing to twist in mid-air, Spike took the brunt of the impact. Buffy received her third orgasm when their still joined bodies hit, driving him so far up inside her that her eyes crossed.
“Holy shit!” she gasped.
“You all right, luv?” Spike sat up, keeping her on his lap while he ran his hands over her, anxiously checking for injuries. Other than a cut on her cheek that was sluggishly oozing blood, she looked fine.
“Bugger! We brought the bloody ceiling down this time, Slayer.”
Still seeing stars from that last brutally sharp climax, Buffy could only nod, a goofy smile on her face when she felt him lapping at the small wound on her cheek. Spike’s fingers tightened on her hips as she squirmed on his still rampant erection.
“Uh, Buffy?”
“Mmm?” she purred, head thrown back and eyes closed in pure bliss as she swirled her hips for maximum friction.
“Much as I love your kinky side, luv, I draw the line at fuckin’ in front of this particular audience, yeah?”
Spike’s amused voice cut through the lust that fogged her brain. Her eyes flew open to meet the shocked stares of the people that surrounded them. Angel, The Immortal, the Buffy Clone, that harridan from the reception desk, and a few secretaries all stood around with expressions of complete disbelief. Face flaming; she turned back to her lover.
“Oops?”
Chapter 5
“What is this ‘Oops’? And who is this person that impersonates my Slayer?” The Immortal’s thin nose quivered.
“Now, Tony. We talked about this, remember? My place is with Angel. We had some good times, lover, but Angel is my destiny.” The faux Buffy stroked his arm soothingly before turning to press herself to Angel’s side once more.
Angel was staring down at them with narrowed eyes, his disbelieving gaze flicking from Buffy to Spike and back again.
“Spike, what the hell is going on here?” he demanded.
“’S called sex, Peaches. I realize it’s been a good long while since you’ve had a good shag, but even you can’t be that thick,” Spike said with a smirk. He slipped his hands under Buffy’s rump and bounced her a few times, making her eyes widen comically. “And surely you remember this little treasure.”
“Buffy?” Angel looked back and forth between the woman on his childe’s lap and the one clinging like a limpet to his arm. “But-“
“She’s obviously an imposter!” squeaked the Clone.
Buffy batted Spike’s hands away with a pout. She pulled herself off of him, grimacing at the wet, sucking sound, and staggered to her feet. After yanking her shirt down, she hopped on one leg while she tried to get her leg back into her jeans. The more she struggled the madder she became.
“Oh, now you’ve done it. Got her hoppin’ mad, you did,” Spike chortled, leaning back on his arms and grinning as he waited for the whackiness to ensue.
Zipping her jeans, Buffy finally turned to face the others and saw the Clone staring down at Spike with a look of intense fascination. She was practically drooling. Following her lustful gaze, Buffy rolled her eyes. She thrust a hand in front of his gloating face. When he took it, she hauled him to his feet.
“Hey, studmuffin, how ‘bout we put your tool back in the shed? You’re attracting way too much attention and you might give the other guys a complex.”
“Hey!” Angel yelped indignantly. The Immortal merely shrugged and nodded. The old bat from the front desk had taken one look and fainted.
“Oh come on, Peaches! You didn’t really think Darla and Dru meant it when they said size doesn’t matter, did ya? What about Darla’s little experiment that almost went horribly wrong? You remember, with those elastic bands?” Grinning smugly, Spike made a great show reeling it in and tucking it away.
The disappointment on the Clones face raised Buffy’s temperature a few more notches. She pasted on the biggest fake grin she could muster and stepped up until she stood nose to nose. “You and me are gonna be best buddies, Kimmie.”
The clone blanched when Buffy used her real name. “Who? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered, trying to play dumb. Desperately she tried to reach into the Slayer’s mind and seize control of her thoughts. To her shock, she came up against a barrier that had her reeling backwards from the jolt it gave her.
Buffy smirked at her. “Did you REALLY think that would work on me? I know all about your little mojo tricks, so save it, sweetie. You might have stolen the look, and you might have SOME of the memories—” With that, Buffy turned and winked at Spike. “But they’re all gonna know the truth once I start wiping up the floor with you. Slayer strength. I have it. And believe me, I’m SO gonna enjoy proving that you don’t.”
She was so riled she almost missed the conversation among the three vampires.
“My Buffy has bigger…tits? Yes, tits!” The Immortal said.
Spike was instantly pissed. “More ‘n a mouthful is a waste, you git! ‘Sides, at least my mouthful isn’t a bloody trumped up plastic imposter with delusions of grandeur who can’t keep ‘er bleedin’ legs together!”
“Now that I see them together I don’t know how I was fooled. I just thought Buffy had put on some weight,” Angel mused.
Buffy/Kim had been preening, certain that she looked better than the scrawny little Slayer. If Angel’s comment hadn’t upset her, Spike’s next comment certainly did.
“You’re blind as a fuckin’ bat, Peaches,” he scoffed. “On her worst day, Buffy could outdo this slag. No offense, honey, but I’ve only seen one other ass as lopsided as that and she was a Hellgod, so you’ve got no hope.”
Buffy couldn’t stifle an indelicate snort of laughter at Spike’s reference to Glory. “Aww, that is just so sweet of you, Spike,” she cooed.
He stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, bending his head to give his bite marks a good suck. “Call ‘em as I see ‘em, pet.”
Buffy/Kim made a big show of wrinkling her nose and looking him up and down. “As much of a hottie as you might be, everyone knows you’re just a soulless demon. I would rather be fucked to death by a Fyarl demon than let you touch me!” she spat.
It was a good thing Spike had his arms around her, because Buffy snarled and leapt forward to rip that self-satisfied smirk from her face. Angel and his new appendage leapt back so fast they fell to the floor in a tangled heap of arms and legs.
“Whoa, tiger!” Spike laughed as Buffy swung from his grip. “Might want to get some info from her before you go tearin’ her into tiny bits, luv.”
Buffy let him pull her close and attempt to sooth her, her eyes shooting fiery hatred at the imposter all the while.
“Let me give you a little newsflash, princess. You only swindled a small part of my memories from my friend. You’re missing about three years worth that were the most important. You’re looking at the reason they were so important, and he’s one hundred percent with the soul-having. Best of all? He’s MINE. So I’m thinkin we all know who the imposter is now. Thanks so much for that enlightening stroke of ignorance.”
The girl flinched from each word of the Slayer’s verbal lashing, cringing against Angel in hopes of some protection. When he moved to put as much distance between them as possible, she cast a look of entreaty towards The Immortal. Her big eyes and trembling lips only earned her a contemptuous glare and his elegant back as he stalked back in the direction of his office. Completely abandoned on all fronts, she huddled in a dejected heap on the floor.
The secretaries had finally managed to revive the old harridan and helped her solicitously back to her fortress up front, leaving the four of them standing beneath the gaping hole in the ceiling. Buffy tipped her head back and nuzzled Spike’s neck yearningly.
“Better be careful or you’ll be getting’ what you’re askin’ for, Slayer,” he growled softly in warning.
She sighed her irritation. “I know, I know. Too much to get straightened up here. But the minute we’re done, your ass is mine.”
“And any other parts you might want, pet.” The promise was made with a leer as he took her hand on a journey between their bodies and pressed it to his straining erection.
Angel’s growl of warning brought both blonde heads up to glare at him.
“Sod off, Angelus. You made your choice a long fuckin’ time ago when you walked away from her,” Spike snarled, more than ready to fight for the girl this time. There would be no stepping aside for Buffy as there had been for Drusilla. This time, there would be fists, fangs, and rivers of blood if necessary.
Buffy turned in his arms, slipping one small hand up under his t-shirt and rubbing his back soothingly. There was a world of indifference in her green eyes as she faced her first love. Angel had lost all claims to her heart when she had discovered his perfidy over the prophecy. His treachery was equaled only by his unmitigated gall in thinking that she would still choose him over Spike. When she spoke, it was with devastating certainty.
“There was a time in my life that I would have done anything just for the chance to be with you. I used to think we were doomed to forever be star-crossed lovers, worshipping each other from afar. Kind of like Romeo and Juliet, only without the whole matching suicide thing. Believe me when I tell you that time has passed.”
“But, I still love you, Buffy.” He was doing that kicked-puppy thing with his brown eyes, not realizing that it only served to drive her further away.
“You love an illusion of who you think I should be. I haven’t been that girl for a long, long time, Angel. You simply refuse to see that because you’re so completely selfish. You always have been. I just refused to see it. My eyes are wide open now, and do you know what I see? Someone who never did a thing for me. You never risked your life for me, never took a beating to save my sister because you knew I would be devastated by her loss, never tried to change everything you were simply because you thought it was what I deserved. You never tried to save the world, Angel. You only tried to destroy it.”
“I’m not completely blameless. I built you up in my mind to such a degree that you were bound to fail. But when you could have stayed and fought with me to make things work between us, you turned and walked away. You always walked away. I wasn’t worth the effort then, what makes me so special now? Because I’m no longer attainable to you? Because Spike has finally won something he should never have had to fight for; something I should have been able to give him freely?”
Buffy turned to Spike, bringing her hands up to frame his face, thumbs tracing his sharp cheekbones with infinite tenderness, her eyes never once straying from his as she bared her heart to him. “If he let’s me, I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to him. Spike stayed. He always stayed, and he always fought for me, and he’s saved the world more times than even you can know. He’s in my heart and I love him more than I ever thought I was capable of loving someone.”
Her tears flowed freely and Spike lofted a shaking hand to gently wipe away the slivery rivulets. His own eyes were more than slightly damp, and the expression on is face was one of pure, unadulterated jubilation.
“Got nothin’ to make up for, you silly bint. Always knew you cared, you were just too stubborn to admit it.”
The kiss they shared would have been an achingly beautiful testament to the long awaited admission of love were it not so rudely interrupted by a loud crash and a muttered, “oh, dear Lord!”
All eyes turned to the pale, shocked faces of the Watcher, the Witch, and the Whelp.
“This just keeps getting better and better,” Buffy quipped sarcastically, not moving an inch from Spikes side. If anything she moved closer. “All we need now is my traitor of a younger sister and hail, hail the gang’s all here!”
That last bit drew a frowning glance from Spike. “Nibblet betrayed you? Well, aside from booting you out on your ass in Sunnyhell?”
Buffy slid her hand into the back pocket of his Levis and gave his ass a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure we’ll get to that, baby. Just be patient for a little longer, k?”
He shrugged in good-natured assent, flinging an arm around her shoulders when she turned to address her friends.
“I think I know why you’re all here. I really hate to be the one to break it to you, but you missed the big pow-wow. Also, I kind of unmasked your latest attempt to fuck with my life. Although, I guess it would be safe to say I’m not the only one that got fucked out of this deal, am I?” she asked snidely.
When an extremely ill-looking Giles started to speak, Buffy held up an imperious hand. “Save it for now. I’m staying at the Hotel Tiziano. Everyone standing here right now will show their faces at my suite at noon tomorrow.” She shot a scathing look at Buffy/Kim. “And I do mean everybody. Anyone that shows up before noon will be staked or shot, whichever is necessary. Got it?” Nods all around. “Good. For a little added incentive, I think you should all know that I have the only true translation of the prophecy. I’m sure you’ll all be interested in taking a look at it.”
Having said her piece and sparing a glacial stare for each of them, she took Spike’s hand in hers and gazed up at him adoringly. “Come on, lover. We’ve got all kinds of catching up to do.”
Chapter 6
The Hotel Tiziano was just a short distance from the Spanish Steps. They received more than their fair share of curious looks as they entered the vast lobby. It wasn’t unusual for the locals to see a couple kissing in public, but seeing them literally trying to swallow one another’s tongues while running their hands under clothing and trying to walk at the same time was a bit much even for the Roman’s relaxed moral code.
Buffy didn’t even pause to see if she had any messages at the desk. She hauled Spike into the elevator and shrieked with laughter when he forced her up against the wall. Three indignant nuns and a pair of elderly matrons scurried out with puce faces before the doors could trap them with the amorous couple.
“Honey, you scared the nuns,” she giggled against his lips as he pushed his way between her thighs. Bracing herself on the convenient handrail, she arched her pelvis against him, grinning wickedly as she rubbed her damp crotch up and down on his steely erection.
“Sod the nuns,” he growled. “Worse meal I ever had. Ever see a vamp with indigestion? Not a pretty sight, luv.” His eyes were almost black as they locked with hers, his fingers bruising as they dug into her hips.
She moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair and tugged his mouth back to hers. The elevator bell dinged as it reached her floor and the doors swept open. Refusing to release her mouth, Spike slid his hands under her ass and backed out into the hallway.
“Which one?”
“Left. Third door.”
When they reached it, he reluctantly let her slide down his body so she could deal with the door. While she struggled with the card, he attacked the back of her neck and her ears. Buffy shivered and whirled on him, leaving the card in the slot. Grabbing his arms, she lifted them above her head to brace against the door.
“Stay right like that. Don’t even think of moving,” she whispered.
Before he could voice any complaints at the delay, she had dropped to her knees and dealt with the fastenings of his jeans. Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head and he nearly swallowed his tongue. His hoarse shout echoed off the high ceiling when her hot little mouth engulfed his throbbing cock.
The sides of his duster were pulled away from his body by his upraised arms and made the perfect cocoon to hide her from view. Confident that no one could see her, she went to work on him. She knew everything he liked and used it shamelessly to her advantage, his guttural moans and fragmented endearments all the encouragement she needed to double her efforts to bring him off.
As aroused as he was, it didn’t take long. He came with a roar, his “Jesus Christ, Buffy!” coinciding with the elevator doors opening once more and dispersing the same flock of nuns they had chased out of it earlier.
Hearing their shocked gasps, he lifted his head and gave them a sated smile. “Sorry, sisters. Just had a genuine religious experience,” he said. He took a wobbly step back and held out a chivalrous hand to assist Buffy to her feet. With a cheeky grin he turned to face the startled sisters, fully aware that his pants were still gaping open and his bits were hanging out.
Realizing his intent, Buffy let out a horrified squeak and turned to shove the door open. Grabbing both hands full of his coat, she dragged him into the room and slammed the door behind them.
Sister Angelina sighed as she looked down at her fellow travelers. “I suppose we should give thanks to the Lord that we are on the other end of the hallway; else we would never get any sleep, eh sisters?”
They could only nod in agreement as they followed her to their room.
~@~@~@~
“I can’t believe you were going to flash those poor nuns, Spike! What if one of them had a heart attack?” She had to stifle a giggle at the mental image of the three nuns dropping like flies at a glimpse of what Spike was packing.
“Don’t bloody care, Slayer.” He bent over, putting a shoulder to her stomach and heaving her up and over his shoulder. “Where’s the bathroom in this joint? Posh outfit like this is bound to have…Christ, Buffy! Where’s the rest of you?” She felt like a little sack of bones.
All traces of humor left her and she found herself on the verge of tears. She had tried to make herself eat more over the past few days, but at most had only managed to add a few pounds to her thin frame. Stupid vampire. It was his fault, in a roundabout way. Eating just hadn’t been a priority when she was miserable with missing him.
Spike carried her into the bathroom, suitably impressed with the opulent décor. The huge shower with it’s dual shower heads held his attention the longest and he wasted no time in turning them on full blast. Dropping his precious burden to her feet, he busied himself with divesting her of her clothing as quickly as possible.
Since he had expected her to do a little stripping of her own, namely his own dusty clothes, her dejected sniff caught him completely by surprise. Spike grasped her trembling chin and tipped her face up to meet his, concern evident in the frown that marred his forehead.
The sight of her tears cutting a path through the dirt on her face brought a twist of remorse from his gut. With her only a few hours and he had already made her cry. He cursed himself as she crossed her arms over her bare breasts and turned away.
“Buffy…” He sighed heavily, catching her before she could bolt from his side and hauling her tightly against him. “Sweetheart, ’m sorry. I’m a cruel, thoughtless bastard who should have his tongue cut out.”
“You think I’m too skinny, don’t you?” She tried to shove him away “Well, I’m sorry! Some nasty, inconsiderate vampire burned up right in front of me and it made me wish I’d gone right along with him. Can I help it if I missed you, you big jerk? Yes, I could hardly eat. Hell, I rarely slept. All I wanted was you.” Her voice faded to almost nothing at the end before gaining strength enough to accuse him. “And then, I find out you were back, and didn’t bother to come to me. So maybe I’m not what you want any more. Maybe if you hurry you can find that psycho Buffy wannabe and give her a try. And why not? Everyone else has.”
Their encounter in the air duct had in no way prepared him for the sight of her fully nude body. Spike held her still in front of him, his eyes widening with dawning horror as they traversed her wasted frame. Tears stung his eyes as he beheld the truth of her misery over his loss.
She had always been petite in stature; small breasted, but with a lush curve to her hips and bottom. Now her breasts were practically non-existent, each rib outlined beneath her bronzed skin, her hipbones jutting prominently. Her arms and legs were so thin that he feared they would snap like so much kindling if he embraced her too tightly.
His fingers trembled as they traced the new angular lines of her face, his soul crying out over the dark shadows that lay like bruises under her eyes and in the hollows under her cheekbones. He brushed his thumb over the plump pillows of her lips; the only thing that he could see that had remained unchanged by her grief.
A grief that he had unwittingly abetted.
All those months since his return of hiding behind his insecurities, of doubting the love that she had given voice to during their last moments together, and acting on the advice of those he knew for a fact would rather see him as dust than at her side had resulted in this.
He had never in his wildest dreams imagined that losing him would affect her so deeply, but the proof was so painfully obvious that it couldn’t be denied. The tears that had been threatening during his perusal spilled over as he lifted his anguished blue eyes to meet the abject misery in hers. In spite of her pain, she lifted her chin in a show of pride.
The tender kiss he bestowed on that stubborn point of flesh and bone nearly broke her, as did the arms that gathered her against him, cradling her as though she were made from the finest porcelain. He buried his face in the fall of her hair and allowed his own grief a sweet release.
Buffy wound her arms around his shoulders, small hands stroking his back and raking through the short platinum curls. With a wild sense of hope, she dared to think that maybe this time they might actually be able to make it work for them.
Her arms tightened convulsively as she felt a surge of dogged determination roiling up inside her. This time no one, NOBODY, would come between them. She refused to allow it. Not her friends. Not her Watcher. Not even Angel would be exempt from having his head forcibly removed from his ass if he chose to butt in. No. One. She felt fully at ease with the fact that she would kill anyone that tried to separate them now.
Lifting his head from her shoulder, she ran her fingers across his cheeks in an attempt to dry his tears, though her own still flowed freely. Her busy hands continued to roam over his body, pushing his coat from his shoulders, raking his t-shirt over his head, and moving nimbly to shove his opened jeans down over his hips. A tiny smile quirked her lips at the involuntary groan that rumbled forth as her hand pushed aside the imprisoning denim and closed around his hardening shaft.
She fondled him for a few torturous moments before stepping away to adjust the temperature of the water while he divested himself of his jeans and boots. He followed her beckoning finger under the spray, his own touch a little hesitant as he returned her caresses.
Buffy made a face at him, wrinkling her nose a little at his reticence. “Stop treating me like I’m going to break if you touch me. I think that little ‘happy-to-see-you’ in the air ducts proved I’m not going to fall to pieces on you. Well, physically I won’t, emotionally is another matter.”
“Can’t help it, I guess. There’s so little of you left to hold on to,” he murmured as he began stroking his soapy hands down her back and over her bottom.
Returning the favor, she lathered up her own hands and covered every inch of his magnificent body with the rich scent of vanilla, her fingers rediscovering every ridge of muscle and sinew. They took turns washing each other’s hair before rinsing the fragrant foam down the drain. She reached to turn off the taps and turned back to find him waiting with a huge terrycloth bath sheet. Snuggling her in its voluminous folds, he pulled her against him.
“I meant it when I said I was sorry. You of all people know I have a habit of speakin’ before I think, and it never entered my head that it might be because you were pinin’ away from missin’ me.”
Spike pushed her wet hair back from her neck and lowered his head to run his tongue over the fresh bite marks. “I love your body, don’t get me wrong,” he murmured against her throat. “But it’s what’s inside your body that I love most. This. Your heart. You.” One hand lifted to cover the area just above her left breast, the rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing the outline of a heart on her water-slick skin.
Buffy’s eyes filled once more, but this time the moisture was induced by complete and utter happiness. “Missed you so bad,” she breathed, arching up on her toes to meet his descending mouth.
“Show me how much.” His voice was raw with sudden need as he swept her up and carried her towards the turned-down bed.
There was so much that they needed to talk about, issues that needed to be resolved. But for now, both needed this to reconnect, to reaffirm their feelings for one another and rejoice in their newfound freedoms. For Buffy, it was knowing that she had finally grown up, had reached the point in her life where she would no longer allow others to dictate her affections. For Spike, it was about finally being able to show her the more tender aspect of his feelings for her, something she had always shied away from before.
His eyes never left her face as he unwound the bath sheet and moved slowly over her. Tears stung his eyes afresh as his hands moved over her seemingly fragile form.
Seeing the shine of moisture clouding the ocean of blue, Buffy curved her hand over his as it moved from her neck to her stomach. “Spike?”
“Don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough in the darkness.
“Then don’t leave me. Ever again,” she returned just as softly, using her hand to guide him lower until his fingers moved gently to stroke her blossoming warmth.
Spike was mesmerized by the expression of quiet enchantment on her face as she gazed up at him. During their first disastrous relationship, avoiding his eyes had been her way of denying that there might be something more than lust between them, that he might actually be capable of loving her even without a soul. It didn’t escape his notice that she now refused to turn her head or even close her eyes unless she was kissing him. He took it for the gift that she intended it to be. The metamorphosis that had begun the day she had found him in the school’s basement was now complete.
Finding her slick with need, he slid one hand under her bottom and tilted her hips up to receive him. A soft moan sighed from her lips as he slowly sheathed himself completely in her aching core.
He held himself above her, reveling in this moment of perfection. Nothing had ever compared to this. Her soft, wet heat surrounded him, those incredible muscles gloving tightly around his cock, sucking him in and holding him a willing prisoner. This was heaven.
Buffy’s breath caught in her throat as he began to move; slow, measured strokes that had her arching against him in an attempt to quench the burning need inside her. There was none of the fevered urgency of that impromptu coupling in the ceiling. No hint of the barely suppressed violence that had tainted their earlier affair. There was only love and acceptance and heart-melting tenderness. The slide of his skin against hers, his voice rough as it filled her ears with promises of sensual delights. She shivered deliciously, her nails digging into his shoulders and her knees pressing into his sides as she clung even tighter.
“Spike?” She nipped his chin and ran her tongue lightly down his throat.
He groaned as her warm breath puffed over the damp trail she left on his skin. “Luv?”
Arching her hips insistently upwards, she bit down over the faded scar on his neck, worrying a tiny bit of flesh between her teeth. “Make me yours forever.”
Not even the shock he felt at her unexpected plea could stop the demons reaction to those sweet little nibbles at his throat. His hips involuntarily slammed into hers, pressing her down into the mattress and grinding into her softness.
“Fuck, baby,” he panted. “Do you know what you’re asking?”
She nodded, feeling the first fluttering down low in her pelvis that signaled the beginnings of her climax. “Yuh-huh.” She gasped.
Spike couldn’t help but smile at that. Such an eloquent and purely Buffy response. He gave her one last chance to back down. “You’re positive? And you understand what I need from you as well?”
“Spike, please!”
What the lady wanted, the lady got, Spike thought. Demanding little chit! He was suddenly conscious of a blissful euphoria spreading throughout his being. Leaning back on his haunches, he pulled her onto his lap without missing a stroke.
Buffy’s eyes were suddenly shadowed with apprehension. Her hands settled on his shoulders, sharp little nails leaving half-moons on the alabaster skin.
Y-you want it too…Don’t you?” she asked in a voice fraught with uncertainty.
His hands threaded through her hair, twisting it around his fingers. “More than anything,” he assured her, tugging lightly to position her perfectly. His free hand slid around to cup her ass, urging her to meet his quickening strokes, knowing she was close by the way her muscles clenched around him.
He watched her changing expressions, carefully gauging her reactions and waiting for the perfect moment. Ahh, yes. There. That was the look he was waiting for. That intense mix of pleasure and pain as he filled her, the head of his cock bumping repeatedly against her hot spot. He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck, his tongue finding Angel’s old mark. His demon burst forth, howling with glee as his fangs sank into her sweet-smelling flesh, biting down hard and tearing the tender skin a little, both to eradicate Angel’s scar and seat his own pattern over it.
Buffy screamed as the first tug of his lips over the bite seemed to rip her orgasm from deep inside her. Scalding waves of pleasure continued to rise with each sip he took of her blood. Feeling his hand at the back of her head, she allowed him to push her face into his neck. Blindly following his lead, she found Dru’s marks once more and bit down as hard as she could, nearly fainting when his blood washed over her tongue.
Spike lifted his head and pulled hers up at the same time. His amber eyes glowed like fire as they met hers.
“MINE!” he growled savagely.
“Yours,” she agreed. Her reddened tongue slipped out to dab a drop of his blood from the corner of her mouth. “MINE!”
“Always yours,” he affirmed, his hands curving over her shoulders as he shoved her back into the bedclothes and proceeded to pound her into the mattress. Buffy cried out, sobbing incoherently as he drove them both to completion, his roar of satisfaction enough to make her ears ring.
Not that she cared.
Her arms snaked around him, holding him tightly as his arms finally gave out and he collapsed against her own limp and trembling form. She turned her head to find him staring at her, love and amazement dancing in the opalescent blue of his eyes.
“I love you,” she said, her breath hitching in her chest and a single tear rolling down the side of her face to moisten the pillow.
“Love you, too.”
They lay there, unwilling to move, silently basking in the afterglow until he spoke again.
“Buffy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for sayin’ it.”
To be continued
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