Once Upon A Dream

Author: Holly (holly.hangingavarice@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17 (For language and sexual situations)
Timeline: Season 5. Goes AU during Out Of My Mind.
Summary: Buffy storms to Spike’s crypt following his attempt to remove the chip. A heated encounter. Revelations are reached. Confessions are made. A vampire and a vampire slayer embark on a path less traveled together.

Disclaimer: The characters herein are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. They are being used for entertainment purposes out of respect and admiration, and not for the sake of profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is an answer to a challenge from Bloodshedverse in which Spike's life-changing dream wasn't a dream at all. The guidelines were simple and fairly self-explanatory, but I've placed them at the end of the fic.

*~*~*

He was honestly disappointed that it took her more than a half hour to storm to his crypt. A bloke goes to so much trouble to be the designated thorn in a slayer’s side, and she doesn’t even give him the time of day to make it seem like his efforts are noticed and taken in the bad humor in which they are intended.

It had been six hours. Six hours of brooding in the darkness of his home like some righteous ensouled gits that would go nameless. Listening to blessed silence after having booted Harmony for bloody good. He had pounded her into the ground when they got back, then told her to bugger off after she started talking about all the pink she wanted to introduce to his wardrobe. Why he thought he could ever tolerate her incessant nagging for more than an hour was beyond him. Even with the added luxury of sex, it simply wasn’t worth having to listen to her pattering about when he could easily pick up a floozy downtown to satisfy his carnal needs.

Fuck, who was he kidding? Without Harm, he was left to the comfort of his right hand. Right now, he was okay with that, having just been reminded of why he couldn’t tolerate the sad excuse of a vampire; he would start lamenting that decision in a week or so without a female around.

That didn’t matter, though.

He only required a female after he’d had a particularly heated encounter with a certain perky, holier-than-thou Slayer and needed to get his mind off her vanilla scent and the way her hair bounced when she was in the heat of battle.

And tonight, having been on top of her, having had his mouth near her throat, his erection cradled in the warmth of her pussy…yeah, he’d needed Harmony tonight.

Tonight he had nearly lost himself.

And it was all her fucking fault. Fucking Slayer. She ruined the best laid of plans.

So bleeding close to getting the chip out. So bleeding close.

He was just waiting now. Sitting in his chair, waiting for the Slayer to burst through the door and give him a good talking to. He suspected he’d drift in and out while looking for a way to snag the other half of the ripped bills from her scrumptious self.

It was difficult enough pickpocketing a slayer. A slayer like Buffy? Damn near impossible.

The crypt suddenly thundered with the echo of a terrible bang.

Ah. Here it comes.

Spike rose to his feet just as the door flew open. And inward stormed the Slayer, her eyes flaring, her hair bouncing, her breasts nice and perky.

Oh yeah. This was what he had been waiting for.

So bleeding gorgeous when she’s brassed.

Where in fuck’s name that thought had originated, he had no idea. Except that he was suddenly aware of a familiar tightness in his jeans. A tightness that was annoyingly persistent when she was around.

He was already beginning to regret having sent Harmony packing. Confrontations with the Slayer left him so damnably horny. Had ever since he met her. He remembered quite well growing frustrated with Drusilla’s illness after that first night at the Bronze. Seeing Buffy in her element made him hard enough to cut glass, and somewhere over the years, that provision had grown exclusive to seeing Buffy.

Seeing Buffy just as she was now. Looking pissed and gorgeous and in desperate need of a good tousling.

“Should’ve known it’s you,” Spike drawled, bored and unimpressed. “Been nearly six hours.”

Six hours and seven minutes, but it wasn’t like he was counting.

His flippancy only fueled her anger.

“Well, it would've been less if I wasn't busy cleaning up your mess,” she spat.

He arched his brows. “My mess? I jus’ borrowed the doc. The mess is yours, Slayer. Yours an’ the boy’s.”

Buffy’s eyes flared again dangerously. “I’m done.”

There was a note in her voice that hadn’t been there before. And he would be lying if he said the stake that she withdrew from her back pocket didn’t come as a massive surprise. And now she was coming toward him, her body wracked with resentment and determination.

Shit, she’s gonna do it.

“Spike, you’re a killer. And I shoulda done this years ago.”

And something within him snapped. Years ago. Years when she had been just a girl. A girl that drove him out of his mind, and only more so as time passed. A girl he had never been able to kill, even when she was under his hands. Even when her body was pressed against his, her throat just inches away from his hungry mouth. Never before had a slayer consumed him the way she did. Invaded his every thought. Driven his blood, obsessed his mind, dragged him by the dick like she did. There were a few slayers in his past that he hadn’t managed to kill, and he forgot those just as easily and went on to the next conquest.

Something about Buffy Summers kept him grounded in Sunnydale. And it wasn’t the promise of her throat. Not anymore.

He was terrified of what it was. What it meant.

And he was tired of ducking the face of reason.

Spike met her eyes and shot back the same determination she was giving him. The same irritation. The same resignation. It was over, one way or another. Things changed from here on out.

“You know what?” he replied heatedly. “Do it. Bloody just do it.”

That triggered something within her. Bloody right.

They wouldn’t be anywhere if they stopped surprising each other.

“What?”

“End. My. Torment,” he ground out. “Seeing you, every day, everywhere I go, every time I turn around. Take me out of a world that has you in it.” On a whim, if nothing more, he yanked off his shirt and whipped it to the ground. Give her a nice, clear shot of his chest. Make sure she didn’t miss. “Just kill me!”

She just stared at him for a minute, her pulse racing. The scent of her flooding his nostrils. God, she drove him crazy. Standing there in front of him. Chest heaving. Eyes searching his for something, though he had nothing to hide.

Then she lunged, stake raised. He winced out of reflex, but held his ground. And suddenly she was there against him, the stake frozen in the air above him. Inches from his heart, the determination leaking from her eyes. As though she was demanding a reason. An answer. An excuse to not go through with it.

And he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t handle her being so bloody far from him. Standing just inches from where he was. He couldn’t kill her; he had given that up long ago. Had he actually gotten the chip out tonight, he rather doubted he would’ve been able to go through with it. Even on top of her with his fangs grazing her throat. He had never been more turned on in his life than he had been then. On top of her. His cock cradled in the warm promise of the apex of her legs. He had wanted her so much.

Perhaps the only exception, then, was how much he wanted her now.

And she wasn’t walking away. She was practically daring him to do something.

So he did.

His hands closed around her upper arms and he yanked her to him. The stake clamored to the ground, and she was in his arms. His mouth attacked hers passionately, pouring his outrage and confused lust and endless need into her. Tasting her fully, warring with her tongue, drinking in those little whimpers and moans that she rumbled against his lips.

Then she was gone. Ripped away from his mouth, panting and looking at him in horror, her hand going to her lips as though reassuring herself that they were still attached.

She looked so wonderfully confused. So irrevocably lost.

So fucking perfect.

Oh bloody hell.

It was over, then. He’d ruined it on an impulse.

But something changed. Something in her eyes changed. Her hand dropped and the horror was gone. She was back against him, grasping his head and pulling his mouth down to hers. A rumble of relief coursed through him at the blessing of her taste. He was drunk with her in just seconds. Her lips. The needy whimpers that scratched at the back of her throat, the way she held him to her, thrusting herself against his cock with small gasps of pleasure.

As though he could ever wish himself away.

His arms were around her the next second, clutching her tightly. His mouth drew away from hers and ignited into an exploration of everything Buffy, brushing his lips against her cheek and trailing a wet, hot path of kisses down her throat.

She was panting. She was wet. Her arousal perfumed the air, teasing his tastebuds, making him painfully hard. “Spike…” she gasped. “I want you.”

God, those words. How long had he waited to hear those words?

They were nothing, though, compared to what he said next.

“Buffy, I love you,” he swore ardently into her throat, nibbling lightly at her delicious skin. A tremor ran through her body and he pulled back, finding her eyes glossed over in surprised passion. “God, I love you so much.”

“You…what?”

Wait…what?

Reality snapped back. The words were between them, but reality was there, too.

And he loved the Slayer? Since when?

“I love…” Spike balked and twisted away, his body consumed with horror. Her arousal was still tickling his nose, still tempting his cock, the rush of her warmed blood playing a dangerous game of chicken with his fangs. Only he didn’t want to kill her.

He wanted to love her.

How irreversibly fucked up was that?

“Bleeding hell.” He shook his head furiously, a growl tumbling through his throat. “Jus’ my sodding luck, right? Of all the bloody people in the world, of all the…why you. The sodding Slayer. I love the sodding Slayer?” He turned his eyes heavenward and cursed loudly. “You enjoy playin’ with me, do you? Think this is funny? Do you have any idea who I am?!”

Buffy was still behind him, her bravado vanished. The heat from her body had gone cold, and the next time her voice touched the air, there was no more determination. Simply the tattered remains of a girl that had been hurt too many times over. A girl wounded by love and abused by practically every man that had ever come within ten feet of her.

“Is it…” A long, wounded sigh rolled off her shoulders. “Is it so horrible?”

The man inside wanted to go to her automatically. Take her in his arms and apologize for hurting her feelings. But his emotions were on defense, and he wasn’t quite over the horror of realizing the reality of his true sentiment. The thing he’d known for awhile, but refused to acknowledge. The burning of his insides for her with not bloodlust—just lust. Lust that had transformed into love somewhere. Love for the Slayer. For his enemy. God, he loved the Slayer.

“So horrible?” he retorted bitterly. “So fucking horrible? Did you hear me, you daft bint? I love you. God, I really love you. Buffy Bleeding Summers, Vampire Slayer. Me, William the Pussy-Whipped Bloody, an’ I love you. I love you so much, an’ it’s wrong! I’m a vampire. I’m a vampire, dammit, not some soul-filled ponce who’d jus’ as soon look at you as shag your honey. Sod all, what the hell is wrong with me? In love with the Slayer. Why me?”

A scent that smelled suspiciously like tears consumed the air. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I…ummm…” Buffy released a deep breath and shivered. “I’ll…I should…leave. You’re obviously going through your…own little thing over there. I’ll leave.”

Bloody hell.

Cruel play of fate or not, he was not the kind of bloke to hurt the woman he loved. And God help him, he loved Buffy. He loved her. And if he let her walk out of his crypt like this, he would never forgive himself. When the initial revulsion of his loving her waned and he sank in to the inevitable acceptance that this was the way it was, he would regret letting her walk out of his crypt after scalding her with thoughtless words.

“No.”

Buffy paused. “No?”

Spike turned back to her, his eyes flashing. “You din’t hear me at all, did you?”

“Oh, no, there was a fair amount of hearing on my part.”

“You din’t hear the important thing.” He stormed forward heatedly. His objective was clear. He loved Buffy. He would love Buffy. He would love her well. He would love her like he had never loved anyone, because she was unlike anyone that had ever wormed into his system. He would love her beyond reason. With his heart and body, and he would start right now. “I love you.” His hands closed around her arms and he hauled her into him. Felt her heart jump, her pulse race, and he was suddenly swimming in the heady scent of her arousal. “An’ you want me.”

“H-how do you know?”

“You told me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeh.” His eyes flared. “Oh.”

Then he was kissing her. His mouth was on her, he was drowning in her taste, and she was not fighting him. She was kissing him back. Her arms went around him without struggle and his body rejoiced in turn. Oh yes. This was what he wanted. What he had wanted forever. Buffy against him, her lips on his skin, her hips thrusting against him needily.

“God,” he gasped, pulling his mouth away from hers and shoving her against the crypt wall. Her legs went around his waist automatically, and the soft warmth of her nearly consumed him. “God, Buffy…”

“Ohhh…”

“I’ve wanted this forever.” He wound his left arm around her middle, his other hand busying itself at her white camisole. “You’re so bloody hot.”

“Forever?” she gasped. “You were mad—”

“Blowin’ steam.” Her top sailed across the room the next second, and her supple flesh was under his eager fingers for exploration. She was wearing a white lace bra, and her skin was against his. Her nails were digging in to his chest, her hungry lips covering every part of him, taking his mouth whenever his journeying kisses brought him closer to hers. “’m over it.”

“Over it?”

“Bein’ mad.” He cupped a breast ardently, thumbing her nipple through the thin fabric separating them. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“You…were pretty…mad.”

He shrugged, suckling at her throat as his busy hands tugged her bra down. A strap snapped in retaliation, but he forfeited the struggle with her cacique and turned his attention to the clasp of her trousers. “Jus’ surprised me, is all,” he replied, sinking his blunt teeth into her shoulder. He tore her left leg free of her slacks before directing his hands to his fly.

How things had gotten so out of control so quickly, he didn’t know.

All he knew was that he needed to be inside her now.

Her hands beat him to the job. Her small, delicate fingers wrapped around his cock and he about drowned in fire. Her hand exploring him, pumping up and down the length of his shaft as though they had been doing this for ages. Caressing him sweetly, her thumb exploring his belled head with gentle reservation. The tenderness behind her touches did him in. In just a few seconds, any hesitation he’d harbored about this flew out the window. A throaty gasp tore through his lips, and his head collapsed against her shoulder. A sweet surrender into what he had known for so long.

Buffy was warm and willing. Her hand was around his cock, and she had a look in her eyes as though she had just come awake after a thousand years of darkness.

Perhaps he wasn’t alone, then, in this sudden feeling of his.

“Oh, fucking hell.”

“Ohhh…”

He fisted the material of her panties and tore the scrap of cloth away from her, wasting no pleasantries before plunging two fingers into her wet sheath.

“So hot.”

“Spike—”

“So wet.” He kissed her again as his thumb settled over her clit, speedily massaging her into her next life. The passion that stormed her eyes set his own insides ablaze. “Have you always been this wet for me?”

“Oh God!”

“’S what you wanted, right?” he demanded hoarsely, deftly removing his touch from her core as his erection brushed her moist folds, eliciting a sharp gasp as he position himself at her opening. “This mornin’. You want this right now.”

“Oh yes.”

“Tell me.”

The mist abandoned her eyes for just a minute, and she found him looking at her with flecks of guarded adoration sparking his gaze.

“I want you.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but Spike could no longer deny his body’s craving. He sank into her with a groan of completion, and found himself swallowed by the warmest homecoming he had ever known. Buffy gasped around him, her walls tightening as her nails found his upper arms and dug trenches into waiting skin. She moaned something unintelligible, squeezing him almost to the point of pain before the shock of his intrusion waned, and she relaxed around him.

He rested at her shoulder a minute, simply enjoying the feel of their union. “Did I hurt you?” he demanded.

“No.” Her eyes met his meaningfully and she squeezed him again, wrangling a moan through his lips as he withdrew from her pussy and entered her again. “Did you want to?”

A wry smile tickled the corners of his mouth. “No.”

“Good.”

“I’m past wanting to hurt you, pet.” He cupped her ass and molded her into him, moving inside of her in slow strokes that nearly took them both by surprise. For as much as he wanted her, for as much as the past few minutes had changed his life forever, he would have assumed his claim of her body to have been a hard, fast rutting to leave them both sore in the delicious afterglow.

He didn’t want her sore yet. He wanted her soft and complacent. He wanted her effulgent.

He wanted to take her downstairs and worship her with his tongue. Taste the juices dribbling down his hand and discover if she was as delicious as she smelled. His hips were moving against hers, his eyes glued on her face. And she watched back. Her eyes were on him, and he saw no anger. No hatred. Most importantly, the hurt he had put there with his earlier outburst was gone. Instead, she was Buffy at her best. Buffy watching him with something he hesitated to call affection. Buffy contorting in pleasure as his cock glided in and out of her slick passage.

It was Buffy that locked her arms around his throat and arched her mouth to his.

He was lost. Irrevocably lost. The thought that he could have escaped this was made ridiculous in a matter of easy seconds. She was all around him. Her scent, her softness, her taste. So many months burying himself in denial of this. In attempting to lose himself with faceless women who meant nothing to him while the one he loved was a few city blocks from his crypt. The one he loved who also happened to be the one he was meant to kill, but would never touch again in anger. She was moving with him, her pussy squeezing him with tender veneration; making it hurt sweetly, burning him alive for the feel of her.

It wasn’t possible. God, was it possible?

There were mingled pants between them after their lips parted, his mouth taking chart down her throat again, thrusts gaining speed as the demands of his body kicked in over sensation. “You feel so good,” he murmured into her skin, his other hand slipping over her thigh and skating between them. “So bloody wonderful.”

“Spike—”

“So good.”

“Spike!”

His thumb settled over her clit once more and began caressing her softly to counteract the growing fierceness of his thrusts. She was growing tighter and wetter around him, and he couldn’t take it. He needed to feel her come. Needed to hear his name tearing from that glorious throat of hers in the throes of release.

Needed to taste her blood in his mouth, only not in the face of death.

No, now that he had sampled this, there was no way he was giving it back.

“Spike! Oh God.”

“Come for me, baby.” His fangs had emerged when he wasn’t paying attention. His fingers were playing her to climax, his cock stabbing her at a new angle with every plunge. The haven of her body was too much. He was burning from the inside out, and he needed to bathe in her orgasm before he gave into his own. “Buffy—”

“Ohhh…GOD!”

Then his fangs sliced into her milky flesh, and she rocked the world with her explosion. A hoarse scream slashed at her throat and her muscles tightening around him. He felt every shudder that vibrated through her blood. Tasted every wave of pleasure that coursed over her skin. The sounds she made only aided his fervor, and her rich blood was in his mouth. Her life in his hands. There was no pain, only pleasure. Buffy coming hard around him, screaming her release into the stillness of his home, and he could not help himself.

She was his. She belonged to him. And she was about to know it.

“Mine!” he growled, lapping at her throat as his body gave in and he tumbled off course. Spilling himself inside her, thrusting into her madly, demanding all he could from her sweet softness as her muscles constricted around him all over again. “You’re mine, Buffy.”

“Ohhh…”

“Say it!”

“Yours,” she agreed weightlessly, collapsing against him. “Oh God, so yours.”

It took a few seconds for his body to quiet, still thrusting gently into her sinuous haven. His fangs reeled inward and he calmed, head spinning with the reality of what had just happened between them. The reality of what he had just done.

He had just claimed the Slayer. And at his command, she had accepted.

Oh God.

“Oh God.” Buffy slowly untangled her legs from Spike’s waist as he lowered her to the floor, his cock slipping out of her with a dueled moan of complaint. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” he agreed tenderly, nuzzling her hair. He had claimed her. She was his mate. And just like that, a century and a half of emptiness came to an end. Buffy was his. How was it that Buffy was suddenly his?

Fuck, he didn’t care. She was his.

“Spike…”

He froze. “You’re not gonna kick me in the head an’ run outta here, virtue fluttering, are you?”

She frowned. “No.”

“Oh.” A smile crossed his face. “No regrets?”

“I don’t know what just happened here…” Her hand flew to the fresh bite mark on her throat. “You bit me.”

“Yeh. I did.”

“You did something else, didn’t you?”

A beat. “Yes. I claimed you.”

“You what me?”

“Claimed. An’ you accepted.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you’re mine.” He enjoyed the irritation that flushed across her face. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t get huffy. You accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I was accepting!”

“And?” Spike’s eyes darkened. “You accepted it. You accepted me. You din’t run outta here when I told you that I love you, you grabbed me when I kissed you, an’ we just had the shag of a lifetime against my wall. Don’t run out of here an’ claim it din’t mean anything to you.” A sudden pleading note touched his voice, and his defense dropped for the stronger case of his need for this to be mutual. For the feeling of elation that had given him a strong high for the past few minutes to not be a brief side effect. “Don’t tell me you regret what jus’ happened.”

Her eyes softened. “Spike—”

“Oh bugger this!”

“Spike—”

“You know, Summers, you are some piece of work. Here I am, pourin’ my heart out, an’—”

The next thing he knew, Buffy had grabbed his head and tugged his mouth back down to hers. His anger instantly dissolved for the feel of her lips against his, and his arms came around her. God, there was nothing like this. Their mingled scents fragranced the air, Buffy’s mouth was against him, her hands exploring his body as though she could possibly want this as much as he did.

“Downstairs,” he growled heatedly. “Need you again.”

“Downstairs?”

“There’s a bed downstairs.”

Buffy smiled kittenishly. “You have a bed?”

“What, you think I sleep in a coffin?”

“Well, I know how you relish the stereotype.”

“Bint.”

She scowled. “Asshole.”

A warm chuckle rumbled through him, and he tugged her further into his arms. “Downstairs,” he growled. “Not through with you yet.”

And for once in the years of their acquaintance, she didn’t argue.

*~*~*

Buffy released a shuddering breath as Spike settled her on the bed. Her mind was still spinning from what had just happened, confused thoughts colliding with logic and what years of conditioning had taught her about love and vampires. She had no idea what to make of what she had just experienced. The passion that had taken her by storm was unlike any she had ever felt. The addictive taste of his kisses revived a memory she had buried deep within herself following the fall of Willow’s spell the year before. She remembered feeling like this. Feeling loved in his arms, bathed in the glow of rich adoration. Sitting on his erection in Giles’s house, copping feels and murmuring scandalous dirties into each other’s ears.

She had loved him then. For a couple hours, she had loved him.

And now? What happened now?

She had a boyfriend waiting at home. A boyfriend she had dedicated the past twelve hours to saving. She had sobbed over him in the Initiative caves and demanded that he save his life for her sake. And now that the threat was over, she was at Spike’s crypt in Spike’s arms. Spike was stripping her of her remaining clothing, murmuring his awe and approval of her body as his fingers pebbled her nipples and his mouth worshipped her throat. There was something she had denied herself for so many years. Something she hadn’t felt since her sophomore year in high school, only much more potent for reasons she didn’t care to explore.

“You’re tremblin’,” Spike murmured, stripping his jeans down his legs.

“I’m nervous.”

“You weren’t nervous upstairs.”

“Upstairs it was…quick and impulsive and you loved me and I kinda just reacted to that.”

“Still love you.”

“You do?”

He smiled. “It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision to get you in the sack.”

“If it was, it worked.”

“Yeah. Only it wasn’t.”

“I remember you got kinda mad at God.”

“Not mad anymore.” His teeth skated across the column of her throat, his hand gliding intimately against her inner thigh. “I remember tellin’ you this a couple times already.”

“That could’ve been to get me in the sack.”

“It wasn’t.” His mouth brushed against hers, two fingers sliding within her. A shrill gasp clawed at her throat and she fell back against the bed, arching herself into his touch, whimpering at the feel of his sinful strokes. “I don’ say things like that if I don’ mean it.”

“You mean it.”

“This is what I’m sayin’.”

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

“Oh.” Another sharp gasp tore at her throat as his thumb found her clit, his body sliding down hers until his face was nuzzling her pussy. She didn’t need to be looking at him to see his smile. “Oh…oh God.”

“You like that?” he rasped, lapping delicately at her moist folds.

She arched her pelvis into his touch. “It’s okay,” she whimpered.

He chuckled into her, and the vibration felt so good she thought she would break down weeping. “Jus’ okay?” he replied, licking a wet path up her slit. “’Cause I happen to think it’s rather wonderful.”

“Some ego.”

“Well deserved.”

“That’s up for debate.”

Spike arched a brow and delved his tongue into her sodden pussy, and she released a loud, hoarse scream and threw her legs over his shoulders. “No,” he murmured into her, “I don’ think it is.”

“Ohhh…”

“See?”

“Spike…”

He raised his head, nuzzling her delicately before suckling her clit into his mouth. “Such a sweet li’l quim.” He lapped at her eagerly, a long moan coursed through his body. “Fuck, you taste so good. Like fine wine.” He shuddered and glanced up, meeting her eyes. “You understand, right?”

“Fine wine?”

“I love you.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.” His head dipped as his tongue sank into her pussy again, nimble fingers stroking her sensitive button tenderly. “I want to hear you say that you understand,” he said softly. “Say that you know that I love you, an’ you’re here because you wanna be.”

Buffy whimpered and thrust herself against him. “Spike…”

“Say it.” He pinched her clit. “Say it, baby.”

She arched again, a small sob of pleasure erupting from her lips. “You love me.”

“Yes I do. Very much.” He tongued her eagerly, massaging her clit with a bit more fury. “Tell me where you wanna be.”

“I’m where I wanna be.”

“Really?” Spike arched a brow, nibbling softly at her folds. “Right where you wanna be?”

“Oh yes.”

“With who?”

“Spike.” A long sigh rumbled through her lips and she cupped his face, meeting his eyes. “I’m with you. And you love me.”

He smiled and rose up on all fours, prowling up her body like a sleek jungle cat. She gasped again when his cock brushed against her pussy, and her fingers dug into his skin as he slid inside her.

It was somewhat disconcerting that in the nineteen years of her life, she had never felt anything quite like this. Spike was inside her, over her, his eyes trained on hers, his hands caressing her skin. Cupping her breasts, running his touch over her abdomen, skimming his fingers along her thighs, his eyes swallowing her face with every gasp of pleasure that rumbled through her mouth. And she knew it. She knew it then. He was moving inside her, reaching places she hadn’t even known existed. There had never been anything like this.

She was making love with Spike. She had come here with the pretense of staking him, and had somehow ended up in his bed. And she was making love with him now. He was whispering words of love in her ear as he thrust into her, while upstairs the thought of being here had been so far placed, even he had balked in horror.

“You think you could love me?” he asked, tugging at her ear with his teeth. “Jus’ a little?”

There was a tightening in her stomach, pinpricks of pleasure setting her skin afire. Love Spike? She could barely fathom that she was in his bed. That she was with Spike. That his cock was moving inside her body, that he was doting kisses across her skin, and that he loved her. His fangs had slid into her throat and somehow she didn’t care. He had claimed her, and while she didn’t know what that meant, she sensed it was big. Significant. Life-changing.

Something had changed within her and she didn’t know what it was. She was terrified.

But Spike loved her. In her crazy world with a boyfriend she pretended to love, a former vampire lover that she had somehow gotten completely over in the past hour, she was making love with Spike and that was what made sense to her.

“Do you think you could love me?” Spike asked again, sinking his blunt teeth into her neck. His thrusts were gaining momentum. She was lost with every parry. There was an alien sensation building inside; his flesh sliding against her, his mouth dancing over hers, engaging in a playful ballet with her tongue. He had wheedled a hand between them and was caressing her clit furiously while he inspired her to a new life with the sinful strokes of his lips. “Buffy…”

“Oh God…”

“You feel so good.”

She smiled at him, and melted at the look that overwhelmed his eyes. “You, too.”

“Tell me you could love me.”

She nodded furiously as her body pushed toward crescendo. Spike had unlocked something within her. Something large and powerful. Something unbelievable. Something she hadn’t even known existed. In such a short amount of time from being upstairs and listening to his confused screams at realizing his love for her to being underneath him; his tongue worshipping her as his thrusting hips pushed her closer to the edge. The slow slip and slide of his flesh from hers, the smoldering fire between her thighs, his fingers pulling at her nipples, his mouth nibbling at her throat…it was more than she could take. Sensory overload at its richest, and she was plummeting so fast. So fast, and there was nothing there to break the fall.

“Tell me.”

“God, Spike…”

The small fire within her was about to explode with color. Spike was driving into her fiercely now, shoving sensation aside for the need to feel the world collapse around them. Her nails were scratching rivers into his skin, and she was about to fall over a cliff into a universe she had never contemplated.

“Tell me.”

Whether or not the words ever truly escaped her lips, she didn’t know. Pleasure consumed her, and she was gone. Lost in a sea of ecstasy. Lost in the rapture of his kisses, his whispered vows, his hands that could not keep content exploring just one part of her body. His fingers were massaging her clit, his mouth swallowing her cries, and he was there to catch her as she crashed back to earth.

God, there had never been a feeling like this. Never.

And then his fangs pierced into her throat, and her body spiraled into another euphoric detonation of sensory. He was growling his delight into her, drinking her blood, thrusting inside her with guttural grunts of need as he came. The pain of his bite was nearly nonexistent for the shards of pleasure that overwhelmed her, and she clutched him as he came down. Held him as he pulled back from her throat and lapped sweetly at the wound he had given her, purring his contentment.

“Mine,” he growled again.

Her body positively hummed. “Yours.”

“Mmmm…” He nuzzled her tenderly. “That’s the second time you’ve accepted my claim.”

“That’s the second time I’ve not known what a claim is.”

“Means you’re mine.”

A long sigh ran through her body. “I don’t belong to anyone,” she retorted. “Least of all you.”

He pouted, head dipping as his mouth captured her nipple. “Not even a li’l?”

“Spike…”

The hand that was still between them revived a tortuous massage of her clit. “’Cause I think you’re mine, Buffy,” he replied amorously. “You’ve said so twice. You’re mine. I love you…an’ you can love me.”

“I said that?”

He grinned.

“Spike, you’re a vampire.”

“Hasn’t stopped you yet.” He brushed a kiss to her breast and met her gaze. “I mean it, luv. If we do this, we do it all the way. None of this bollocks about me not havin’ a pulse or you havin’ a calling. You’ve accepted my claim twice now. You’ve let me taste where you live. Furthermore, you wanna be here.”

“I…” Her eyes fell shut. “Spike, I had…I had a plan when I came here, and none of what I planned has happened.”

“You an’ me both.”

“I’m confused.”

Spike sighed and said again, “You an’ me both.” He raised his head and brushed a kiss across her lips. “I love you, though. An’ you said you could love me.” He studied her for a minute longer, then heaved a sigh and turned, pillowing his cheek against her breast. “’S not like I had this planned, you know. You came in tonight and knocked me off my bloody feet.”

“I did?”

“Din’t know I loved you.”

A long, silent beat. Her eyes opened again. “You didn’t? You just…suddenly…wham! Buffy loveage?”

He chuckled and shook his head, dropping a kiss against her breast. “No, luv,” he replied softly. “I knew it. I jus’ hadn’t realized it yet. It’s been with me forever, I guess. Dru knew it. ‘S why she left.” He squeezed her hand and rolled them to their sides on an impulse, his cock sliding from her warmth, rousing another dueled moan of protest from their lips. “Why she ran off with the Chaos Demon. Said I was ‘covered’ in you. Din’t figure it meant I loved you until I had you in my arms tonight.”

“You’ve had me in your arms before.”

“Was tryin’ to kill you then, an’ vice versa.”

“I meant the spell.”

He smiled. “Well, I said I loved you then, too, remember?”

“Did you?”

“’F I din’t say it, I bloody well felt it. Maybe it was a given, so sayin’ it wasn’t necessary.” Spike stilled and studied her. “Stay here,” he whispered. “Stay with me tonight.”

“It’s morning.”

“Well, stay with me through the day. You’ve gotta be knackered. Out all night, lookin’ for your soldier.” Buffy could’ve sworn he winced as the words left his mouth, but he hid it quickly and continued. “Wrestlin’ with yours truly, shagging me to bloody oblivion, an’ comin’ so hard you’ve prob’ly woken the dead.”

She blushed. “I shouldn’t…stay here.”

His arms around her tightened. “Please?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“For once, Buffy, please do what you want, regardless of whether or not you should.”

“And here I thought that was what I’d been doing since I got here.”

A shadow crossed his face. “’F you wanna leave, you know where the door is,” he growled.

Buffy wet her lips and shook her head. “I don’t want to leave. I’m confused, yeah, and…well, confused just about covers it. But there’s something else.”

“Somethin’…?”

“Yeah.”

“You could love me.”

“There’s a chance.”

“Good, ‘cause I claimed you, an’ you accepted. Twice.” Spike flashed a pleased smile and opened his arms, welcoming her to snuggle into him. And she did. The prospect of sleeping while wrapped in the embrace of her enemy had her shaken, but god, she wanted this now. Before reality stepped in. While she was claimed by a vampire she had hated just hours before. A vampire that somehow loved her and had shown her in ways he hadn’t even realized.

The fact that she could love him after hating him so richly had her thoroughly shaken, but like Spike, Buffy supposed she was the last to run from her feelings…especially when they were potent. Especially when they were all consuming.

Especially when they were true.

She didn’t know what she felt yet. Only that her body was tired but satisfied, and Spike’s arms were around her.

There was so much waiting for her on the outside. Right now, it didn’t matter.

Right now, she was wrapped in his arms.

Right now, she knew peace.

*~*~*

She stared at him for a long time.

Sometime in the course of their rest, he had rolled onto his back and taken her with him, his arm snug around her middle. His other hand was curled around hers on his abdomen. She had wormed a leg over his, the apex of her thighs pressed intimately against his hip. Her head was pillowed at his shoulder, and she felt more loved than she had in her entire life.

It was slightly disconcerting to wake in the arms of her mortal enemy only to discover that she had never slept as well as she had as he held her. Even more disconcerting to realize that the revelations reached just hours before had not been a dream; that she had really spent the day in Spike’s embrace. That she really had rekindled her memory of his flavorful kisses, and that her body was sated for the first time in years because he had loved her so thoroughly well.

He loved her.

Something had changed, and she didn’t know what. In a matter of minutes from storming into Spike’s crypt and announcing that she was going to stake him to drowning in his kisses and feeling her heart leap at his whispered confession. The leap that plummeted just as quickly when he realized what he had said and stormed away in a huff, screaming at the Powers for bringing his epiphany to the limelight. For making him realize that he loved her. For telling him that he was in love with Buffy.

It was a strange sensation, being so elated but then ripped in two by someone she wasn’t supposed to care about. Someone that she had fought just hours before. Someone whose fangs were now intimately acquainted with her throat, even after what had nearly transpired in the laboratory. He had been there with another woman, trying to get the chip out with the sole purpose of killing her.

How he had gone from that to loving her, she didn’t know. How she had gone from weeping over Riley and begging him to not forfeit his life because she didn’t need a superhero to lying in the bed of a monster, she didn’t know. Only now her obligation to Riley seemed over. He wasn’t dead. He hadn’t allowed his heart to explode because he felt she needed him to be strong for her, thus eradicating her guilt. Lessening her conscience in forcing him to a realization that she had known was true for a long time now.

She didn’t love Riley. If she loved Riley, she wouldn’t be with Spike. She wouldn’t be feeling things with and for Spike that she had never felt before. He was a monster, but he had treated her with more tender adoration today than any man, even the man she used to hold on a pedestal, had ever begun to touch.

There was passion and fire with Spike, something she hadn’t felt since Angel. Something that was more potent now because she was a woman—not a girl—and she understood how she was supposed to feel. Something more intoxicating because she knew on some subconscious level that this had been one of her guarded fantasies ever since she saw him at the Bronze so many years ago, challenging her namesake and telling her that she was his for the killing.

Spike was a monster, but he had never truly been the vampire he was rumored to be. Not with her, anyway, and she was to be his greatest conquest. So how was it that she felt more with a vampire that had wanted her dead for so long than any man she had let touch her? That from the moment his lips had touched hers upstairs, her guards were cast aside and an emotional floodgate of what she had so nearly attained last year was suddenly hers for the taking.

Willow’s spell had never said anything about loving Spike, but she remembered loving him. She remembered the blessed feeling of having her reservations shoved aside, everything that had ever kept her from even entertaining the thought. As though the inner debate had already taken place and she had the answers, no longer caring for the argument surrounding her decisions. And more so, she had known why she loved Spike. The same way Xander had known military codes and maneuvers after his brief stint as a soldier. He hadn’t simply been a soldier; he’d known everything about it. And that was the way it had been with her during the Will Be Done spell; she hadn’t simply loved Spike, she had known him, and the feelings that were unlocked had taken months and Riley to bury. And now she was in Spike’s arms, and he loved her again.

And he wanted to know if she could ever love him.

She was so afraid that she had never stopped. That she had masked her feelings for him after the Will Be Done spell, the things her heart had touched. Had turned herself away from every little revelation that had taken her by storm out of hurt and outrage. She had covered her feelings for him with sarcasm and the pretense of disgust; and true, the initial horror that had overwhelmed her when the spell was broken had been genuine. Truer yet, she had spent a week growing close to Riley hoping the feelings would go away.

They hadn’t. Spike’s revulsion remained, and hers did as well. And she had convinced herself that the spell was a spell, and that was all there was to it.

Only she hadn’t convinced herself well enough, for now that excuse no longer applied. She was in Spike’s bed, his arms were around her, his cock was nudging her sensually, and she felt thoroughly complete for the first time in months.

Spike had claimed her. Twice. And twice she had accepted.

She remembered him whispering in her ear during the spell that he wanted to claim her on their wedding night. Even without knowing what it meant, she had bubbled with delight and agreed. And now, less than a year later, here they were.

Could she love him?

Buffy wet her lips and trailed her eyes down the length of his body and back to his face again. His boyishly peaceful face, the hint of a happy grin tugging at his sleeping lips. Oh yes, she could love him. Quite easily.

More so now for the realization that she already did.

There were things she would have to do beyond the revelation that she and Spike were in love and she had been using Riley as a means to forget what her heart had touched last fall. She would have to deal with her friends’ shock and horror, Xander’s supreme wigging, Giles polishing his glasses and possibly lecturing her like she was sixteen. Oh yeah, and break up with her boyfriend right after she had convinced him that she could love him when she, in fact, never had.

That could wait, though. Right now she was with Spike, and she was realizing that there was nothing wrong with that. Whatever happened after today was fine, because he loved her and she loved him. They could face the storm together.

And right now, she wanted him awake so she could tell him.

“Spike…” She tugged her hand away from his and ran her fingers down his chest. “Are you asleep?”

He murmured something unintelligible, but the boyish grin on his face had broadened.

“I think you’re not asleep anymore.”

Spike shifted slightly under her. “You have nothin’ to go on to prove your theory,” he murmured, his eyes remaining shut.

“You’re talking to me.”

“I talk in my sleep all the time.”

“Coherently?”

“I’m multi-talented like that.”

“It’s a shame.”

“That I’m multi-talented?”

“That you’re asleep.”

“Mmmm, really, pet?”

Buffy sat up completely, an involuntary whimper tumbling through her lips. “Uh huh.” She cast the blanket covering them aside, shivering slightly as the cold air hit her skin. But she shoved her displacement to the back of her mind as she slid down his body until she was face-to-face with his erection. She didn’t have too much practice in what she was about to do, but for what he had given her, she was willing to sacrifice her pride.

Though if he made a comment about her inexperience, there was a good chance there would be no more blowjobs in Spike’s future.

“Here’s the part where it’s a shame,” Buffy murmured, wrapping her fingers around his cock. She smiled at the long whimper that spilled through his lips, his pelvis thrusting forward needily. “Since you’re asleep, you won’t be able to enjoy this.”

His eyes popped open the minute her tongue curled around his belled head, a shrill gasp touching the air. “God, Buffy…”

“Ah, I guess you’re awake after all.” She smiled around him, suckling at his sensitive skin delicately. “You know, I think I liked it better when you were asleep.”

Spike frowned. “Gee, Slayer, you sure know how to romance a fella.”

“I just mean, if you’re awake, it makes me nervous.” She lapped at his length sensually, planting wet kisses along the sides of him, the hand coiled around the base of his erection squeezing him rhythmically. Her other hand dropped to cup his balls, massaging out the weight of him. “See, now I have to do this right.”

Spike moaned and arched into her touch. “I din’t know there was a way to do this wrong,” he replied gutturally.

“Well…” A thousand conversations she’d had with Riley surfaced. “Trust me.”

He read her mind. A scowl crossed his face and he sat up on his elbows. “Buffy…”

“In the meantime, though, I’ll be doing this.” She took his cock completely in her mouth, effectively drowning out whatever remark had been waiting on his tongue and sending him back to the mattress with a long moan.

“Bloody hell,” Spike whimpered, unable to keep his hips from thrusting into her. “Such a hot li’l mouth.”

“Mmm…”

“So fuckin’ good.”

She grinned, trailing her tongue along the underside of him until her lips enveloped his head once more. “You don’t have to pretend,” she replied, suckling at him gently.

“Does it sound like I’m pretending?”

“You could be a good actor.”

“Trust me when I tell you I’m not.” Spike gasped and arched into her again, his fingers threading through her hair. His hold on her was not commanding; more like he needed to touch her in some way that conveyed what she meant to him. She squeezed his erection in turn, dropping a kiss over his head once more as her lips dropped to taste his sac.

“Oh bloody hell.”

“You like that?” she asked, suckling his tender skin into her mouth.

“God, Buffy…”

Her tongue laved him lovingly, drawing him further into her. Her hand pumped his length speedily for the lack of her mouth, then dropped once more to cup him tenderly as her lips kissed another trail along his cock until he was engulfed in her wet heat all over again.

“You’re so perfect,” Spike groaned. “So hot. So bloody perfect.”

“Ahhh…”

“I can smell you. You’re so…”

She threw her head back. “Oh God.”

His eyes flashed. “Get up here.”

“Don’t you want—”

“Fuck yeah, I want. But I want this…” He hooked his hands under her arms and hauled her up the length of his body until her pussy was hovering above his mouth. “A lot more.” His tongue plunged into her without formalities, and she found herself grasping the headboard as he steadied his fingers on her hips.

“Oh my God.”

He rumbled something unintelligible into her, and the vibration felt so good she had to fight forfeiting control with simply that. He was stroking her from the inside, lapping at her juices with tender adoration, pushing her to new levels.

Riley hated putting his mouth anywhere south of her bellybutton. He absolutely hated it. He did it every now and then to return the favor, but he wasn’t too keen about the favor to begin with. At least not from her. She would have thought it was just a Riley thing, but Parker hadn’t reacted like he overly enjoyed himself when she explored him during their one-night stand, either. And over the past few months, she had reached the conclusion that she just didn’t give a good blowjob.

Her body was trembling, and there was a fire in her belly that only Spike could give her. His tongue was discovering parts of her that she hadn’t even known existed, inspiring sensations she thought were solely the inventions of trashy romance authors. Her hips were moving over him. His fingers left her thighs to find her clit, massaging her furiously when she gasped at his touch.

“Oh my God.”

“Mmm,” he gasped into her, “you taste so good.”

“Oh God.” Then his tongue slipped out of her channel, and her body collapsed in mourning. “Spiiike!”

“Need your clit,” he replied gruffly, plunging two fingers into her in absence of his mouth as his lips wrapped around her sensitive button. “Need to taste you as you come.”

His words only made her hotter.

“Oh my God.”

His fingers thrust into her almost painfully, as though he could feel her pleasure. As though every rapturous shard that shot through her body was for him as much as it was for her. His tongue was caressing her clit roughly, and she had never felt anything like this. There was nothing like this. Nothing else in the world.

“Come for me,” Spike growled into her. “Come for me, Buffy.”

The fire had escaped her insides and was spreading steadily across her skin. A sharp gasp clawed at her throat and she exploded into him. Her body dissolved into tremors of pleasure, and her hips moved needily against his mouth as he devoured her release. He drank her until she was sure there was nothing left of her, her body deliciously sated but raging for more.

“Delicious,” he growled, edging her down his chest until her damp curls were pressed against his cock, his wet mouth level with hers. And he swept her into a fiery kiss that set her skin ablaze, his tongue tangling with hers as his arms came around her. And then he flipped her under him, and plunged himself into her willing body.

Buffy’s lips tore from his with a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Oh my God!”

He smiled against her lips, kissing her again before resting his brow against hers. “Think I’ve made you lose all mastery of the English language.” A pause. He withdrew just slightly, then thrust into her again. “Not that you had one to begin with.”

“Jerk.”

“Yeh,” Spike agreed, burying his face in her throat as his body set a hard but similarly tender tempo. “I love you so much.”

Her heart sang. He had said it again.

“Fuck, it gets better every time.”

Buffy sighed deeply and tugged his head to her shoulder. She felt so close to him, now. Closer than she had felt to anyone. His arms were around her, thrusting into her, stroking her to perfection from the inside out. A hand cupped her breast as his lips skated down her throat, sighing soft kisses into her skin. The slide of his flesh from hers was unlike anything she had ever felt. Her legs wedged from under him and curled around his waist, her body hot with desperation to recapture him every time he withdrew. It was a soft but hard loving at the same time.

“Jesus,” he gasped, laving a wet path around a nipple, agile fingers caressing her neglected breast. His thrusts deepened needily, her muscles choking him with every plunge. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“Uhhh…”

“You feel so bloody good.”

“Yes, yes,” she gasped in agreement, tugging his mouth to hers once more. “So good.”

“So hot. So bloody warm.”

“Spike…”

He smiled against her, his thrusts intensifying. “Love you, baby,” he murmured against her lips. “Feel like heaven. You burn me up. So tight. So hot. So fucking perfect.” He slithered a hand between them, the mutual demands of their bodies growing too strong to ignore. Their mouths met with desperation, tearing into a frenzy of frantic kisses. The room was quiet except for the creak of noisy springs, the mutual pants tumbling through their lips, and the slap of melding flesh. It was somehow more intimate, more real, than anything she had ever experienced.

Spike massaged her clit furiously, his eyes blazing yellow. “I love you,” he gasped. “I love you so much.”

“Yes, yes!”

“You’re so close, kitten. I can taste it.”

Her eyes flew open and found his demon gaze burning her through. And she knew then. She knew. She could feel it scorching through her body. She loved him. She loved him, and she needed him to know it. “Uhhh…Spike…bite me.”

“Buffy—”

She closed her arms around his neck and jerked his fangs to the pulse point of her throat.

“Bloody hell,” he growled, nibbling softly on her flesh.

“Do it!”

His head reeled back, a daring sneer tickling his mouth. “You first.”

Her eyes widened, but she refused to run from a challenge. Especially a challenge as important as this one. The next instant, her mouth lunged forward and she sank her blunt teeth into his throat. Biting into him hard enough to taste his coppery essence as it flooded her mouth. She had drawn blood. They were even now.

“Oh fuck!” Spike gasped, thrusting into her furiously.

“Mine.”

“FUCK!” He jerked his throat away from her teeth in horror, searching her eyes needily. It took only a second for him to find what he needed, and his gaze widened with hope. “Yours,” he replied, his mouth lowering to her jugular.

And then his fangs slid into her skin, and her body ignited into the most intense orgasm she had ever known. His name tore through her lips, color blinding her as her blood rejoiced. The tremors clamoring her insides found home, and she captured everything he had to give her. Triggering his orgasm as the words possession floated around her, and she accepted his claim again. Accepted his claim as he had accepted hers. Falling back to earth with the knowledge of what it meant. Falling back to earth but not quite touching the ground. He had introduced her to a place of elevated paradise.

At last his hips stilled against her, and they collapsed onto the bed once more. Spike purring gently against her, nuzzling her sweat-laced hair with tender veneration. “My God,” he gasped. “That was…”

“Yeah,” she agreed hoarsely.

“You understand what you did?”

“I claimed you.”

“Yeah…” He buried his face in her throat and licked at the proud bite he had given her. “But you…you said you din’t know what it meant.”

“I don’t.”

“But you did it.”

“I did.”

“Buffy—”

“I love you.” She smiled when his eyes widened in shock. His cock hardened within her with a vengeance, and in seconds, he was moving sensually inside her once more.

“You what?” he gasped.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his throat. “I love you.”

“You said there was jus’ a chance.”

“Well, that chance has taken a massive leap forward and I love you.”

“Since when?”

“Honestly?”

He nodded, his head lowering to her throat. “Honestly.”

“I think since last year…and Willow’s spell.” Her smile widened when his eyes shot upward again in astonishment, his thrusts intensifying. “I’m just…good at…repressing.”

“Oh Buffy…” His thumb settled over her clit once more, massaging her tenderly, his hungry gaze taking in every wave of pleasure that flashed across her face. “I love you so much.”

“Love you.”

It was a quick rise and fall, but no less divine because of that. They fell together in euphoric bliss, muffling their cries of ecstasy in the sweet union of their lips. Spike collapsed against her with a sigh of completion, burying his face in the crook of her throat, kissing his claim mark tenderly.

“This is forever,” he murmured against her gently. “We’ve claimed each other now. You’re mine.”

“You’re going to have to explain this claim thing to me.”

“Oh, I will.” He kissed her lips. “Jus’ as soon as you send the soldier packin’.”

“Hey, you have to get rid of Harmony.”

A cynical chuckle rumbled through his throat. “Already done,” he told her. “I told her to bugger off long before you showed up.”

“You did?”

“Yeh.”

“Why?”

Spike shrugged. “Well, other than the fact that a rock would get higher marks than she could even count in school, I don’ fancy cheap substitutes for what I really want.”

“That’s me, right?”

He nodded, brushing his lips over hers again. “Yeh, sweetheart. That’s you.”

Buffy grinned happily. “So, this is what we’re doing now. No more fighting.”

“Well, I wager you’re gonna piss me off at some point.”

She frowned. “Uh huh. And you’re an example of perfect behavior.”

“Glad you agree.” Spike chuckled again at the look that flashed across her face. “No, it’s not gonna be perfect, baby. ’S jus’ gonna be real. I love you.”

A long sigh sailed through her lips. “I love you.”

“An’ you’re gettin’ rid of the enormous Boy Scout.”

“Well, I think telling him that I’m in love with someone else, he might just leave all on his own.”

“He’s gonna be crushed, isn’t he?”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah.”

“Can I watch?”

“Spike—”

He scowled. “Hey. The overbearin’ hall monitor’s been nothin’ but a spiteful ponce since he wheedled his way into your bed. That place you jus’ admitted should’ve been mine since last year.”

“I know. But that’s not his fault.”

“That he’s been a spiteful ponce?”

“No, that…” She shook her head. “I never should’ve gotten involved with him.”

“We agree on that much.”

“That much isn’t his fault.”

“Well…” Spike frowned. “Don’ focus on that part. Focus on the spiteful ponce part, an’ come back here when it’s over.”

“Oh, you can bet I’ll be doing that.”

He smiled gently and rolled them over. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you decided to come over an’ kill me today?” he asked.

“No.”

“’m glad.”

“Me, too.” She snuggled into him, dropping a kiss on his chest. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetling.”

“And we’re mated now.”

Spike grinned. “That we are.”

There were things they both needed to face. The world outside the crypt waited with friends who would not understand, a boyfriend to dump, and the next apocalypse somewhere down the road. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered right now. Spike’s arms were around her, and there was nothing else. Nothing but this.

Today belonged to them. Tomorrow the world would return. And they would face it with the lessons learned here. With what they had touched in a few simple hours. The love they had found in each other’s arms. They had this now. They had each other, and that meant everything.

The rest could wait a day.

fin

Challenge Guidelines

Challenge: 122 at Bloodshedverse

I couldn't have been the only who was holding my breath, hoping and praying that the end of "Out of My Mind" wasn't really a dream. Not that I didn't enjoy Buffy and Spike's tumultuous affair in season six, but I think it would have been better if they had given into their mutual UST during season five instead. That's why I want someone to write a fic where OOMM turned out to be real. You can write it as a standalone, but I would prefer if you would tell about the aftermath too.

Please don't woobify Spike or portray Buffy as a cold unfeeling bitch without reason. All I ask is that you just make their character voices ring true.

Note: I'm not entirely sure what "woobify" means, but I interpret that as a love-stricken sap. While true, he was love-stricken, to portray him as NOT wouldn't be true to his character. I just attempted to take out the "sap" part.

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