Author’s Note: This is the answer to a BSV challenge, and as before, I will post the guidelines at the end of the story. Similarly, this story is radically different from anything I’ve attempted to write before. It is Spuffy, and after two or three chapters, that should be very obvious…I just don’t want to freak people out too badly with the first few. It’s all set-up.

I’m molding some popular vampire traditions in some of the vampire romance novels I’ve read – *sheepish* – so I will be tampering with a bit of the myths outside Whedonverse. As far as I know, these new venues are wholly my interpretation.

Author: Holly (holly.hangingavarice@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17 (For language, violence, and sexual situations)
Timeline: Outside canon.
Distribution: Mandi, Yani, Stacy, Luba…it’s all yours. Everyone else, just drop me a line. You can have it as long as I know where it’s going.
Summary: For a hundred years, William the Bloody has led a trail of bloodshed and chaos across Europe and the Americas. That all comes to an end when the woman he’s devoted his existence to brings his mate to him in the guise of a late-night snack. A small girl with eyes of green and blonde hair. And suddenly, Spike is thrown into a world of color beyond the black and white, and his life is never the same.

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.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

[21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35]

Buffy watched in fascination as Spike moved about the kitchen, collecting ingredients for what he assured her would be a better breakfast than anything she’d ever had at the local Aunt Martha’s Pancake House, where she occasionally met her friends on Saturday mornings.

She was of the persuasion that ignoring the small things he knew about her life was a good thing. Much less chance of being wigged every second throughout the day.

Still, some things were hard to let go of. “I can’t believe you’re making me breakfast.”

She’d been saying something to that effect every few minutes now for the past half hour. Spike merely glanced up and grinned, masterfully maneuvering the spatula over the eggs that were cooking to yummy goodness in the frying pan. “After this mornin’, luv,” he said with a wicked smirk, “I think it’s the leas’ I can do.”

She flushed brilliantly and glanced down once more. “You’re never gonna let me hear the end of it, are you?”

“From where I’m standin’, sweetheart, I’m hopin’ for many more of these sleepovers.” He favored her with a lavish leer. “Wakin’ up to you…that was jus’ delicious.”

“I’ll have you know that I don’t wake up everyone with a handjob.”

The word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and the ground seemed to quake beneath her feet. She managed to give her actions this morning a term; a rather crude one at that. The blush burned deeper and she refused to meet his eyes.

Spike’s shoulders went rigid, but he didn’t bark his instinctive reply. The one she knew surfaced automatically, and though she knew he was thinking it, there was some comfort in the knowledge that he could tame his demon. That she was the motivation behind keeping the monster in line.

I’m the biggest hypocrite ever.

Instead, he muttered a noncommittal, “That’s reassuring.”

She was the first Slayer to have to tolerate thoughts that betrayed her Calling. And yet, how could it be betrayal if the Powers made it so? If the Powers mated her intentionally to the one she was supposed to kill; the one who was supposed to be her enemy. He fought his demon, she fought her slayer, and they would balance each other out for everything else that happened.

Clarity was still a ways off, but she was getting there. Slowly.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, smiling gently when he met her eyes. “You’d probably eat whoever I touched anyway, right?”

Spike studied her for a long minute, as though trying to gauge if the question was meant to trap him, then slowly grinned his thanks and nodded. “’m the only one you get to touch,” he retorted instead, still testing the waters, not trusting the calm. “’Specially like that. Anyone else who tries should be well an’ warned.”

“That you’ll eat them?”

“See, Slayer, there are certain things you’re not gonna get me to say, ‘cause I’ve found with as annoying as it can be, I do enjoy livin’ the unlife.”

“Well, I enjoy you living the unlife, too, so we can rule out death by slayer-stakeage.”

“Fair enough.” He scooped a helping of eggs onto a plate for her, where he had the potatoes and bacon already prepared. “You want orange juice or milk?”

“You really expect me to eat all that?”

“Every bite. What do you want to drink?”

“Are you fattening me up for Thanksgiving?”

“’m makin’ sure you don’ turn into a bloody beanpole, Slayer.”

She laughed uncertainly. “No chance of that. I have pouch-tummy.”

“In some mad world of Buffy’s Irrational Delusions, I’m sure you do.” He placed the plate at the island and flashed her a challenging glance. “’S nummy, baby. I’m a bloody good cook.”

“It smells good.”

“An’ you don’ eat enough.”

“I eat plenty!”

“Bollocks. You din’t touch that sandwich I made you last night. You haven’t eaten since your apple an’ yogurt yesterday at lunch.” Spike grinned wickedly when her eyes widened in shock. He tapped his nose and shot her a look of pure superiority. “Now eat.”

“You’re kinda creepy, you know that?”

The vampire barked a laugh. “In all my years, pet, that might be the tamest thing anyone’s ever called me.”

“I’ll bet,” she retorted wryly.

“Eat.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Death by greasy breakfast goodness?”

“Sweetheart—”

Buffy grinned and threw her hands up. The look on his face was treading on hurt that she apparently didn’t want to eat his food, and exasperation with her fixation on her weight. Well, that’s a girl thing. He has to get used to it. Instead, she walked to him, brushed a kiss across his lips, and said, “Okay. I’ll give it a try just because you’re pretty.”

If anything, that made him moodier. “Am not,” he scoffed.

“Well, I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing. I mean, you have been mirror-challenged for over a century.”

“Men are not pretty, Buffy.”

“Yeah, see, here’s the thing where I think my judgment is better than yours.”

“You’re off your bird.”

A frown crossed her face. “Didn’t know I was on a bird.”

Spike cracked at that; he laughed richly. “Eat your brekky, you saucy minx,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes glimmering.

Buffy smiled and took a bite of eggs, sighing as though it was a big inconvenience. “I guess this is okay,” she said, doing her best to suppress how good it tasted.

“Jus’ okay?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“I’ve totally had better.”

“Uh huh.”

She grinned and conceded without making a sound, rather lowering her fork to her plate to scoop up another mouthful. It was nice; just sitting with him as though they were normal. As though she wasn’t the Slayer. As though they weren’t so horribly complicated, and the burden of the future didn’t mean it would change her life forever.

Merrick had changed her life, but that wasn’t the same thing.

Spike looked at her and her world was different.

She knew he was being patient for her, and that she wasn’t making it any easier on either of them. Not with her actions the night before, not with the way she had woken him, not with the way she felt every cell in her body urging her to the solace of his embrace.

The faster she confronted what was holding her back, the faster she could be with him without a weight holding her down.

“Spike,” she said, nibbling at her bacon. “What’s going to happen?”

“When?”

“When we…I mean…what I feel now has nearly taken over me. Will it completely when we…” Buffy flushed and glanced down. “When it happens…is it going to get worse?”

“No, sweetheart.” He smiled. “It’s this bad now ‘cause we haven’ done it. It’s gotten worse with time. The more we’re around each other, the more we need to make it complete, I’d wager. Which is why it feels like this when we’re together.”

“Like this?”

“Always on the border of losin’ control.” Spike sighed and shook his head. “You’re feelin’ it as richly as I am…only you don’ have a demon, so when you lose control, it’s not nearly as bloody violent. An’ you don’ know why you’re doin’ it.”

“This morning?”

A grin. “That wasn’t a loss of control, pet. That was a girl bein’ a girl. You’ve never…this is all new to you.”

“But not to you.”

Spike paused, frowning as though he was weighing his words carefully. “I’ve been with women before, yes,” he said slowly, wincing when she winced. “But no, Buffy…’s never been like this for me before.”

“Liar.”

“I bloody swear to you.”

“I’m not exactly the best consolation prize. I mean—”

A growl tore through the air and he stormed forward, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her to him fiercely. “Never think that,” he snarled. “You irritatin’ thick-skulled chit, I wouldn’t say it if I din’t mean it. You drive me wild. I’ve waited for you, wanted you, dreamed of you for fourteen years. An’ now that I’m here…that I’ve touched you…tasted you…god, there’s no way to explain it. An’ I’ve never felt anythin’ like it. Ever.”

Buffy shivered, her insides rattling under the power of his gaze, but she refused to lose her footing. “But it’s because of the claim, right? Not because of me.”

Spike’s eyes squeezed shut, as though he was about to lose his last hold on control. “No,” he ground out. “Not the claim. Not the sodding claim. The claim jus’ means you’re mine; it doesn’ mean rot to how I feel about you.”

“How…you feel about me?”

“Right.”

“You feel…”

A small smile crossed his face. “Yes, Buffy. I feel many, many things.”

“Spike—”

She didn’t get another word out. The vampire seized her lips in a furious kiss, and she instantly melted into him. She flung her arms around his neck, sighing in relief as the distance between them that had tortured her all morning became nonexistent. His mouth was against hers, his hands on her body, his hips thrusting into hers. Her flesh was on fire, her panties were drenched, and the haze that threatened to overwhelm her completely suddenly didn’t seem so daunting. She was in Spike’s arms, and it was wonderful.

“God, Buffy,” he gasped between kisses. “I want you so much.”

“Uhhh…”

“’ve wanted you forever. Want to be inside you. Want your hot, sweet pussy squeezin’ me to oblivion. Want to taste you. Drink you. Fuck, I want it all.”

He was tugging on her slacks.

No. Not here. Not like this.

“Spike—”

“Want you so much.” He broke his lips from hers, mapping a wet path to her throat. “Want you to be mine.”

“Spike! I…stop!”

Buffy pressed her palms to his chest and forced him off her, even as her body cried out in protest. He crashed haphazardly against the counter, his eyes wide as he returned to himself.

“Oh God.”

She was heaving deep breaths that made her chest ache. The distance between them nearly tore at her skin, but there was something dangerous within her that would push her boundaries to unfamiliar territory if she dared touch him again. This was becoming insufferable. She needed him, but the need terrified her. The need was chipping away at her resolve. The need was devouring her whole.

Still, the look in Spike’s eyes told her plainly that it wasn’t any easier where he was standing.

“So,” she said between gasps. “This…this goes away when we make the claim official?”

“Well, partly.”

“Only partly?”

He flashed a weak smile. “There’s no way that my wanting you is ever gonna go away.”

“Oh.”

“It’ll jus’ be easier to control.” A pause. “Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

A wicked grin spread across his lips. “Once I’ve had you, baby, I don’ think I’ll ever get enough.”

“What if I suck?”

He waggled his brows. “I wouldn’t mind at all if you sucked a bit.”

“Spike!”

“Or called out my name. You can keep doin’ that.”

“I…” Her cheeks were burning. She cast her eyes to the ground and expelled a deep, controlled breath. “I really…so we mate…we claim each other. And that’s it? Nothing changes? Except I’ll be in control of myself and the mate of a vampire. Does that mean I’ll be all…submissive? ‘Cause buddy, I don’t think—”

Spike held up a hand. “Sweetheart, I don’ want you submissive, so you can wipe that thought right outta your pretty li’l head.” He smirked. “Though ‘f you ever feel the need to drop to your knees before me an’ do some of that aforementioned sucking, I won’ be one to stop you.”

“You pig!”

“Oink bloody oink. Never denied it, baby. Don’ you forget it.”

That much was true. Didn’t do much to help her blushing problem, but he was honest with her, and she appreciated it. Buffy just grinned and looked anywhere but his stormy eyes. That always got her in trouble. Those eyes were lethal weapons.

“So…no submissive-Buffy.”

“’Less she feels like it.”

She conceded that point. “Unless I feel like it. Will I…is there anything else?”

The teasing fire died from Spike’s eyes, and he glanced down.

“Spike?”

“There’s one more thing. Your Watcher told me as much last night.” He paused. “Buffy, the part of you that makes you the Slayer…the part of you that gives you your strength…that part of you will…I don’ know what it is, really, but Rupes implied that you have a li’l demon in you.”

Her body went numb. “D-d-demon?”

Spike didn’t say anything.

“There’s demon in me? What? I can’t…how is that—”

“’S where your powers come from, baby, an’ it’s not evil. Jus’ makes you a li’l more the superhuman than all the other girls your age. ‘S nothin’ to be ashamed of…or afraid of.” He met her eyes steadily. “But when it happens, when I claim you, that part will immortalize you.”

A long silence stretched between them. “What?”

“Slayer…”

“Immortal?”

There had always been a strange combination of fear and peace in the knowledge that her life would be short. Granted, while she didn’t crave death, the prospect of fighting the forces of darkness for the entirety of her life had always shrouded her future in darkness. And now…

Now…

“I…” Buffy shook her head and stepped away. “I can’t do this.”

“What?”

“I can’t do this.”

Spike’s eyes darkened. “I thought we covered that this isn’t somethin’ either one of us have a choice in.”

“I don’t mean I…I need this…Spike, I can’t…I…” She shook her head again, and turned so she wouldn’t see the pain in his eyes. “I just…I need to think. I can’t just do this and…”

“So you’re kickin’ me out.” A beat. “Again.”

“When you’re here, I can’t think of anything but what it feels like when you touch me. I never act like this, Spike. Never. And yes, I know that it all serves a greater purpose, but where does that mean I have to be immortal?” She had started crying without realizing it; rich tears spilled down her cheeks, and her body was shaking with the weight of her confusion. “Please…”

There was a slow, controlled breath. She felt him step closer. “I don’ wanna leave you while you’re upset, baby.”

“I need you to.” She shook her head. “There’s the basement. I use it sometimes to sneak out when Mom’s made sure to lock my window from the outside, and I get out through the sewers to patrol.”

He nodded. “I know, kitten.”

“Yeah, I thought you would.”

Spike stepped forward once more and prompted her to face him. “I don’ wanna leave you while you’re upset,” he said again. “You don’ know what your tears do to me.”

“I know.” Buffy forced a smile. “But I can’t do this. I can’t just be with you until I’ve figured some things out for myself.”

“How long will that take?” he asked hoarsely. As though she had the answer. “I can’t be away from you for long, sweetness. Not now that we’ve…that I’ve gotten so close. I can’t—”

“I know. Me neither. I just…please, Spike.”

“I’ll make it worth it for you,” he swore ardently. “Immortality’s not such a bad gig, y’know. I’ll make it so you never regret it.”

“I don’t doubt it. I just…I have this thing and I have to sort it out without you here. You…my feelings for you are too strong for me to think for myself, and I just need some space.” Against her better judgment, she closed the space between them once more and brushed a kiss against his lips. “It won’t be long.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Like she could stay away from him any more than he could from her.

A sigh rumbled through him. He kissed her again before forcing himself away; he grabbed the duster that was hanging by the back door, and disappeared into the basement. She didn’t budge until she no longer felt him in the house, then allowed herself to collapse.

God, it hurt.

It hurt.

“What’s happening to me?” Buffy drew in a sharp breath and wiped her eyes. But it was a redundant question; she knew what was happening, and why.

She wanted him. He was gone only seconds, and already it felt as though part of her was missing.

She needed to talk to someone.

Thus she did what any girl in her shoes would do; phoned her best friend, and begged her to come over.

This required tissues, Terms of Endearment, and gallons of ice-cream prior to the part where Willow talked some sense into her.

After all, such was the contractual obligation of the best friend.

Chapter Sixteen

From Now Until Forever

“I think this milk is bad,” Willow said, making a face as she thrust the gallon jug away. “Or evil.”

“Evil milk?”

“It’s the Hellmouth. Everything here’s made with a heaping of evil.” The redhead turned her eyes back to the contents of the refrigerator, locating an unopened jug of milk behind some relatively ignored containers of cottage cheese and mayonnaise. “Why do you keep bad milk if you have good milk?”

“We didn’t know the bad milk was bad.” Buffy shrugged. “Mom and I typically don’t drink milk.”

“But Spike made you eggs this morning?”

“I think he was using other milk. We had three jugs in there. He must’ve gotten lucky and grabbed one that wasn’t evil.”

“You sure he didn’t cook with spoiled milk because he’s…you know…evil?”

The Slayer frowned at her friend. “Spike lo—cares about me. He wouldn’t make me eggs with spoiled milk.”

Willow released a sigh and uncapped the milk, reaching for the glass she had set out for herself on the island. “So,” she said conversationally, “start at the beginning. I only caught the part where he’s on his way to becoming your personal everything.”

“This isn’t a high school thing, Will.”

The redhead scowled. “I didn’t say it was. Me and Oz aren’t a high school thing. Nuh uh. I-I just think it might be, you know, too soon to say he’s the big it, especially since it’s only been a couple days…and the entire ‘he’s a bloodsucking fiend from beyond the grave’ thing.”

“Don’t. It’s not like that.”

Willow shot her a skeptical glance. “He’s not a vampire?”

“Will…he’s my mate.”

There was a heavy pause.

“Huh?”

Buffy licked her lips and turned her eyes to the counter surface. “This is…it’s a little strange. My mind is still trying to wrap around this entire crazy concept. But apparently Giles knows, and has known.”

“He’s your mate?”

“Yeah.”

“Like…penguins?”

The Slayer blinked. “Um…yeah. Okay.”

Willow released a deep breath. “It might be a good thing if you started at the beginning. Spike is your mate?”

“Yeah…apparently all vampires have mates. Like…predestined mates. When they find each other, their eyes flash a kind of gold and they’re pretty much…well, that’s it. They mate. I think there’s some kinda ritual involved, but that’s the gist.”

“But…you’re not a vampire.”

Buffy smirked. “Why thank you, Will.”

“You know what I mean!”

A sigh rattled through her body, and she nodded. “Yeah, I…Spike went to go see Giles last night. I kicked him out, and he went to go see Giles, then he came back to make sure that Angel…Angelus and the others didn’t come by and try to burn down the house or something.”

Willow’s eyes went wide. “Spike went to go see Giles?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s, you know, still all with the undead?”

Buffy arched a brow. “You think Giles would be dumb enough to stake my boyfriend?” She held her friend’s gaze for a minute longer, then glanced down and offered a sigh of concession. “Okay, so yeah, it confused me, too. But from what Spike’s told me, Giles has known something about this all along.”

“What? That’s impossible.” A pause. “Giles wouldn’t deliberately keep information from you! He’s…British. They don’t do that.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s the only one to keep his lips all sealed. This is evidently a huge cover-up thing. The Council didn’t want it getting out, and up until now, no one else has known about it.” Buffy expelled a deep breath. “And after Spike explained what he thought were the reasons behind it, I admit, it makes sense.”

“Spike explained to you? There was no Giles ‘splainy?”

“Will, Spike’s my…” Mate. “Boyfriend. I don’t typically see school-types on weekends.”

“Except Giles! And that’s the second time you’ve said boyfriend in reference to a vampire. And yes, I’m all with the liberal, political-correctness and what have you, but that’s kinda wigging me out.”

“You’re dating a werewolf!”

Willow flushed and glanced down. “Again…liberal, political-correctness.”

“A member of the slightly-furry society?”

“Well—”

“Spike found out that there are some vampires…that every slayer that’s ever lived has had a vampire mate. Well, there’s been one predestined to a vampire…like Spike and I are predestined for each other. But as far as we know…as far as the Council knows, or is willing to share…Spike and I are the first that have ever found each other.” Buffy paused. “The first…I’m the first slayer to have a vampire mate…and know about it.”

There was a long, deafening silence.

“Willow? You still with me?”

“You’re mates with a vampire?”

Buffy released a high pitched laugh. “Here I could’ve sworn that’s what I’ve been saying for the past ten minutes.”

“Oh my God!”

“And it finally hits her…”

“That’s so…oh my God!” There was a strange light of romantic intrigue in her best friend’s eyes; the last thing she would have expected from Ms. Sensible. “I can’t believe that! So, he’s like…he’s your match, then! If the Powers were all with the match-making and he’s the one…Buffy!”

The Slayer blinked. “Did the Pod People come by? Who are you, and where were you three minutes ago?”

“I’m just saying…that’s kinda dreamy.”

Buffy offered a weak smile. “Yeah, he—it kinda is. Spike’s…” Wonderful. “Pretty dreamy.”

Willow’s excitement deflated slowly. It wasn’t difficult to sense her friend’s dismay. The heavy barrier that kept her from embracing the lemons that life had handed her. “What’s wrong? He hasn’t…I mean, this isn’t a good thing? Buffy plus love equals happiness, right?” She sighed. “But then, if it was a happy thing, you probably wouldn’t have called me, jonesing for sad chick flicks and Ben and Jerry’s.”

“Ah. I see you’ve slipped into your secret identity.”

“Huh?”

“Willow Rosenberg—P.I of Loooove.”

The redhead flushed. “Well…I guess not really a secret identity if you know about it.”

“Ahh, secret identities are overrated…and totally easy to maintain. Seriously, there could be a feature called Buffy Summers—The Vampire Slayer That Could in the paper and people would still be clueless.”

The other girl heaved another sigh. “I just want you to be happy. And hey! Not saying that a vampire was my number one choice, but the Powers know better than I do, I guess. Why can’t this be a happy thing for you?”

Buffy was quiet for a long moment. “It’s…it’s complicated, Wills.”

“So…uncomplicate it. Explain it to me.”

There was a long, thick silence. “I…ummm, I…it’s just hard. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s…the longer I’m around him, the longer we’re around each other, the more attached we become. And not just emotionally…emotionally I could deal with. It’s a physical thing. Like…he’s been gone for a little while now, and I miss him. I miss him to the point where it almost hurts. Kinda like my leg was amputated and I’m still trying to feel my toes. He’s here…I can feel him, but I can’t see him, and he isn’t close enough to make the hurt go away.” Tears filled her eyes just thinking about it, and she cursed herself for her weakness. Buffy Summers was not a cry baby. Not the way she had been in the past few days. She didn’t cry. She refused. She was too tough to cry—she had a sacred duty to upkeep, and tears would only get in the way. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Willow frowned and placed a supportive hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“No!”

“Oh, Buffy—”

“I don’t want to be this dependent on someone! I don’t…and even if I wanted to say no, I can’t. Spike’s it. He’s the only one I can have…the only one that I’ll…” She held up a hand, foreseeing the other girl’s protest. “It’s something in our…aura…blood, I dunno. But it’s…it’s pretty much the reason why I haven’t been able to be with anyone else.”

“Because you and Spike…”

“Yeah.” Buffy sniffed. “I’m just…Spike’s been wonderful, Will. I don’t want you to think he hasn’t, because he really has. He’s just…he’s ideal. Like Prince Charming if Grimm’s Fairytales hadn’t been Disney-ized.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if it’s me he wants.”

“What?”

She exhaled slowly, her eyes finding a spec on the counter to focus on. The root of her fear was suddenly front and center and she didn’t know if she could handle it. Granted, Spike had done everything to convince her of the contrary over the past two days, and with as much as she wanted to believe him, she had too much experience with the general nastiness of people to place too much trust in good will alone. She didn’t want to judge Spike as a vampire, because he had earned more of her esteem than a casually branded stereotype.

So she judged him as a man, and that was almost worse.

Tying her deepest worries with the weight of eternity on her shoulders, and she was fairly terrified. And now, those fears were no longer blocked by the passionate storm of her vampire’s eyes. Now it was just Willow. Willow who was her friend, and fairly objective; Willow who wanted the best for her, and would not lie.

“When Spike…when we mate,” she began softly. “It’s forever.”

“Forever?”

“As in forever forever. I think it’s some sort’ve compensation…me being human and a slayer; i.e, the very thing that vamps are supposed to, you know, hate and kill.” Buffy paused. “Vampires don’t have to love each other, though. They can be mated and hate, and use each other for blood and sex and nothing else. I don’t want an eternity of that.”

“You think Spike is using you for—”

“What? No! God, no. I just…I don’t know if he knows…if he wants me because of me, or because I’m his mate. He’s been following me forever, Will. He’s waited for me to be old enough for him.” She shook her head at the dumbstruck look on her friend’s face. “Don’t ask—I don’t wanna go into it.”

“Okay.”

“But he’s been waiting. Whatever I’m feeling now, he’s dealt with it for years. And now that we’re…I just don’t know if he can tell the difference between warm fuzzies and his demon being all with the excitement that the wait is over. That it isn’t just the claim he’s feeling.” Buffy bit her lip. “I don’t want an eternity of being resented.”

“Why would he resent you?”

“He’s the only vampire who’s had a slayer for a mate. I’d resent that.”

“But it’s not your fault, Buffy.”

“Like that matters?”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like you’re giving him enough credit. If the man’s followed you around for so long and not acted on his first impulse for…well, years, you said…it can’t be all about the claim.”

“I don’t…this is forever, Willow. And I can’t go back on it. When it’s done, it’s done.”

“I understand that.”

“You don’t have the look and sound of someone who understands.”

The other girl shook her head. “Well…look, I don’t know Spike. All I know about him is what you’ve told me. But you said that claims don’t include love…so if he’s not feeling anything but the claim, he would’ve acted on it. He has to care for you, just a little. And you’ve said he’s been honest with you. If the guy was one-track minded, don’t you think he would’ve lied to you to get what he wanted while telling you what you wanted to hear?”

“No.”

Willow nodded. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because Spike’s not like that.”

“Then…well, Buffy, there’s your answer! If he’s not like that, then he’s feeling something other than the claim. If he’s all with the ‘give spacey’ and the honesty and the patience and the…well, don’t you think that if all he wanted was to get this claim business out of the way, he would’ve done it?”

Buffy shook her head. “No…I’m not saying he’s trying to manipulate me or get me to…I’m just worried that he’s feeling things that don’t exist.”

“That’s stupid.”

The Slayer’s eyes narrowed. “So says she who was briefed on all this ten minutes ago!”

“Well…what do you feel for Spike? Beyond the pained achies that you’re away from him…is there anything else?”

That lent her pause. Was there anything else? Dammit, she was terrified that she was halfway in love with him, and that was just crazy. Buffy had never been in love before, and had never considered what love would feel like when—and more likely—if she found it. There were only hours of acquaintance between them. Hours. She hadn’t even known him yet for half a week, and she was afraid she could love him.

More over, she was even more terrified that it had very little to do with the claim.

“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “More than the claim.”

Willow nodded eagerly. “And you know it’s more than the claim?”

“Yes.”

“Then why the hell do you think Spike would confuse one for the other? Does he have a disability that you haven’t told me about?”

“No!”

“Then…are you sure this is the only thing? ‘Cause Buffy, being worried about forever isn’t something to be ashamed about. I’d be scared if I were you! Hell, I can barely look past college…an eternity?”

“That’s another thing…” Buffy released a steady breath. “It terrified me when he said it, but…the word stopped scaring me. I don’t know how…but I think I could handle it.”

“Then you’re a braver woman than I am…though I guess that goes without say.”

“Forever doesn’t scare me like it should. I’m wigged that it doesn’t, but honestly, the past two days have been jam packed with things that should creep me out to the inth degree but haven’t.” She paused. “It doesn’t wig me out. I think maybe I was just…since this was a possibility for me, being the Slayer…a possibility all along.”

Willow nodded again. “That makes total sense.”

Buffy released a steady breath. “I’m scared.”

“Of what? Give it a name. It’s okay.”

“Change.”

“That’s natural.” She waited a beat. “But you want it, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s all you need to know. You want it, Spike wants it…and you can’t make excuses like, he doesn’t really care about you. You know he cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be worried and upset. You’d be angry and with the throwing of sharp objects…hopefully while on patrol.” Willow smiled sympathetically. “But it is a big thing. I think you just need someone to tell you that it’s all right…and believe it.”

The Slayer shook her head. “I don’t understand how you can be so optimistic. You don’t know Spike…all you know is what I’ve told you.”

“Yeah. And you’ve told me all I need to know. I might not know Spike, but I know you. And I’ve never seen you like this. Never. You can’t tell me it’s the claim, because it’s not.” Willow paused a beat. “I’ve been on the Hellmouth and your sidekick long enough to know when something’s mystical and something’s not. Maybe not all vampires love who they’re mated to, but yours will. Else he wouldn’t be mated to a slayer.”

“What if this is the way of the Powers taking me out?”

“You think Spike would do that?”

Buffy didn’t even need to brood over that one. “No.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

“You know, I think there might be a reason you’re Valedictorian.”

Willow shook her head, blushing furiously. “Naw…honestly, Buff. Anyone could’ve told you that. You just needed to be heard by someone on the outside. People who know you know you, you know?”

“I know.” She smiled. “Thanks, Will.”

She discovered the hard way that pain increased when she was alone.

When there wasn’t someone there to distract her. To take up her time with chatter and distract the inner pangs that demanded the comfort of Spike’s embrace.

It began to hurt again just seconds after Willow left. Within an hour, the pain was unbearable. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt, or wanted to feel again. As though her body was failing her, split down the middle, and the leg she could no longer feel was now half of her being.

Everything that rises must converge, she thought bitterly.

She wondered if Spike was going through the same thing, or if he was so used to this that he could block it out.

He’d dealt with this for fourteen years. And he’d done it for her.

There was no way she could patrol tonight. She’d be dead before she could lock up the house.

Buffy hobbled to the sofa and turned on the television. Looked like another night for AMC and some of the golden oldies.

Only when she looked up, her breath caught in her throat and the tears she’d been keeping at bay all night came spilling down her cheeks.

“Spike…”

“Came in through the back,” her vampire said solemnly. “Sorry, sweetheart, I jus’ couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Take it?”

“Could feel you with every step I took.” He moved forward, eyes drowning away her sorrow. He’s here! He’s here! her mind shouted, and her body went numb with joy. “Till the end, I din’t know if it was you or me that I was feelin’ anymore.”

“Oh…”

A long beat stretched between them.

“’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve…” A sigh rolled off Spike’s shoulders and he turned again to leave. “I jus’ thought you needed me.”

Buffy sprung to her feet, her heart hammering. He was just feet away, and the ache had already begun to dwindle. Suddenly, the rest didn’t seem to matter nearly as much. “I do!” she cried. “Please—”

That was all he needed to hear. Spike pivoted promptly, his eyes awash in relief. “Oh thank God.” He spread his arms, and that was all she needed. Space between them no longer existed. She practically flew into the comfort of his embrace, her skin rejoicing with the feel of him against her.

Calming the rage that was snarling and clawing at her insides.

Giving her peace.

Spike murmured words of comfort into her hair.

The rage was quiet. Her mate was with her.

And for now at least, that was all that mattered.

Chapter Seventeen

Just One Little Dance

Things had changed. He could feel it with every move she made. Every time her eyes met his, shy and uncertain, yet resolved in something she had not yet voiced. She no longer had the look of a small girl, lost in the big bad world of otherworldly truths and faced with a decision that wasn’t so much a decision as it was a reality. No, it appeared she had made peace with it, even though she hadn’t told him anything.

She really hadn’t needed to. The cautious glances she gave him were not frightened, rather shy. Like she had emerged from childhood into adulthood in the time they were apart, and she wanted him finally in the way he wanted her. The way he needed her.

Her bashfulness enchanted him. She had touched him that morning like a lover, but without truly realizing the full impact of her actions. She moaned when he explored her, sighed into him when he kissed her, and looked at him like he was a giant among men.

She had been afraid of him before. And while some of that fear was still present, there was warm acceptance as well. She basked in it.

“I bloody hate musicals,” he growled, albeit good-naturedly, as she turned the channel to AMC, and Gene Kelly filled the screen. They had decided after an uneventful patrol to return to the house and attempt to talk things out, but had thus far made it no further than the sofa and a teasing argument over what to watch on the telly. “Dru used to drag me to every sodding flick that came out, an’ then she’d eat everyone who criticized her for singin’ along.”

Buffy stiffened in his arms where she had previously been soft and relaxed, and it took him all of six seconds to realize what he’d said and begin the many rounds of kicking his inner self.

Right. The girl finally wants you an’ you bring up your former.

He truly didn’t expect her to say anything, and for a few long minutes, she didn’t. However, after watching Gene Kelly dance in a rainstorm, she drew in a breath and turned over slightly so that he could see her eyes. “Do you miss her?” she asked gently.

“Miss her?” He was playing dumb and she knew it, but this was not a conversation he wanted to have.

Buffy didn’t call him on it. Instead, her gaze remained patient, and she elaborated the obvious answer. “Your old girlfriend.”

“Sweetheart—”

“It’s okay if you do,” she said. “You kinda…I mean, I know it’d be easier if she was the one you were supposed to mate with.”

She was a strong girl. A strong, brave girl. He knew from experience that even considering a mate with another was the source of cold shudders and raw outrage. And yet, even as she said it, Buffy refused to balk. She held his eyes, and the small, nearly indiscernible flickers of pain he found in hers broke his heart.

“It’d be easier,” he replied honestly, tightening his arms around her when she shuddered. “But I wouldn’t change this for anythin’.”

“Why?”

The immediate response on his lips startled him, and he nearly shoved her away with the blunt edge of realization. However, he refused to voice it now. The weight of the words was too heavy to consider, too earth-shattering for a world that he wasn’t ready to give up. And yet, there was no other way to explain it. What he felt for Buffy went beyond emotion. Went deeper than any feeling he’d harbored for Drusilla—those old pangs and longings that he’d already conceded were a falsity from the start. A trick his nature had played on him in an effort to guide him to the arms of his salvation; the girl who was looking at him now with wide eyes that demanded honesty. With a body she had entrusted to his touch. A heart she was giving him freely, even in the midst of her fears.

So why couldn’t he admit that he loved her? Why was that so difficult?

Because he did, he realized. He did. And he’d already promised himself that he wouldn’t love without having love returned to him. That promise was evidently forgotten; replaced now with a revised agreement to admit to nothing until he was certain that he would not be hurt again.

Ponce. Bloody ponce. You’re afraid of a girl.

Ah, but Buffy Summers wielded power over him that she couldn’t possibly comprehend. Not only did he love her, but she was his mate, and that gave her more control than anything else the earth could hand her.

Spike found himself choked slightly, and he forced his eyes away for a second.

I love her.

The realization was overwhelming. It liberated him, brought his demon peace, and sent him into a world of deeper reckoning. Not only did he love her, but she was the first woman in his life—his existence before and his existence now—that was worthy of the love he had to give. The love he had tried to give others, those he had mistakenly revered as goddesses. Now, the idea of anyone else made him feel ill. That hadn’t been love before. It had been infatuation, and he’d been used and taught that it was something it wasn’t.

Drusilla, Cecily…they were spiteful. They lived in darkness. They were born to it. They could not touch sunlight.

He could. Buffy had given him that. Buffy touched him, and he was lost in light. She wasn’t spiteful; she was innocent. And unlike the women in his past, she cared for him. When she touched him, it wasn’t to incite her own pleasure, it was to convey her affection in any way she could.

Spike had gone a hundred and thirty years without the love of a woman. And even if Buffy didn’t feel it yet, even if she never did, she had given him so much more than Dru ever had simply in letting him hold her without it turning into sex. Without using his body to satisfy her desires. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that until it was given to him.

Tell her. Stop bein’ a bloody coward, an’ tell her!

No. He couldn’t. Not yet. His history with love was dark and sad, and now that it was real for the first time, his courage was running on empty.

He hated himself for it. He was a vampire, he was a part of the most revered, feared Orders on the planet. He was the thing that went bump in the night. The creature made of nightmares…and yet, he was so terrified of the power the girl in his arms held over him. What she could do with his love if she wanted to.

She wouldn’t, though, he told himself. Buffy isn’t like that.

He knew it was true. He knew it. But that didn’t help budge his reservation.

My sweet, sweet Buffy. My gorgeous mate.

“What I felt for Dru…” he began carefully, mindful of the jealousy in her eyes. “…it doesn’ even begin to compare to what I feel for you.”

There. Told her without tellin’ her.

That didn’t make him feel any more of a man, but it would have to do for now. Even vampires were allowed their fears.

“It doesn’t?”

“God, no.”

“So…if the claim wasn’t a thing, and it was me or Dru, you—”

“Sweetheart, you’re…you’re everythin’ to me. An’ that much doesn’ have anythin’ to do with the claim.”

“But you loved Drusilla.”

I thought I did.

He didn’t say anything; merely looked at her.

“You loved her,” she pressed, “and you feel more for me than you did for her?”

Spike smiled. Clever girl.

“Spike—”

He shut her off with a kiss, determined to distract her away from this dangerous train of thought. She melted into him immediately, her tongue plundering his mouth with bravado that surprised him. He groaned and grasped her shoulders, twisting her so that she was under him. So that her hips were cradling his erection, her warm softness inspiring a symphony of heat through his skin.

Spike broke his lips from hers, trailing a wet path of kisses down her throat, his hands sliding down her arms. God, he needed her so much. “Christ,” he moaned, suckling at her throat. His demon roared and his fangs tingled. “Buffy…”

“Oh…”

“You’re so gorgeous. So pretty.” His fingers slid under her camisole, caressing the undersides of her breasts. “My li’l Slayer.”

She whimpered and arched into him. “Spike…”

He released a deep breath and drew his lips away from her skin reluctantly. The desperate little mewl that tore through her throat inspired a grin to his face. Gorgeous. “You’re not gonna kick me out, are you?”

Her lust-filled eyes fought for clarity. “Huh?”

“I need to touch you. Taste you.” He lowered his mouth to her neck again, nibbling at her skin seductively. “I need to make you come.”

Her face flamed. “Oh my God.”

“You want me. I can feel it.”

Buffy released a muffled sob and nodded fervently. “Oh yes.”

“But—hey, look at me.” He tilted her chin up and waited until he had her gaze. “I don’ wanna do anythin’ that makes this worse for you…the eternity thing, your fears about control. If you need me to leave, tell me now before I do somethin’ to bugger it all up.”

“No,” she gasped, tugging his mouth back down to hers. “Please, stay. I won’t kick you out again. I won’t. I just need…”

“I won’ claim you without permission,” he swore to her.

“Then I have nothing to worry about.”

He felt for a second like a lying bastard. Bleedin’ hell, she’s so trusting. The last thing she needed to do was relax around him. The words were easy enough to say, and while he meant them with everything he was, he was terrified that his demon would get in the way. Hurt her before he could rein in the control he spent every second around her fighting for.

You love her, he thought. You love her. You won’t hurt her.

God, he hoped so.

“Spike,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I don’t expect you to be a saint.”

“I jus’—”

“I know.” A small smile flitted across her lips. “I trust you.”

He moaned in protest, sliding her camisole completely over her head. “Hope you know what you’re doin’,” he told her, licking one of her nipples. “I’m a bloody brute.”

“Oh…”

“Such sweet little titties.” He kissed the swell of her breast, laving a wet path around her areola, one hand palming her neglected breast as the other slid a languid path down her abdomen, circled her bellybutton, then began tugging at her sweats. She had forgone panties tonight; they’d gotten home, she’d changed, and she hadn’t put on panties. She’d wanted this, and the knowledge filled him with delight. “Fuck, you smell so good.”

Her heart was thundering, her pulse humming melodically against his fangs. She was nervous. Hell, she was petrified…but she also wanted him. He could feel how much she wanted him with every shiver of her skin. She was a girl on the edge of embracing her womanhood and the thought was appropriately terrifying. What she felt was new but natural. What she felt was the reason wars were fought. The reason man had come out of the cave.

She was feeling it all for the first time. He was guiding her into a new world, and fearful as she was, she followed. She craved. She moaned her pleasure when he nipped at her breast, when his skilled fingers slid over her pussy and teased the juices that told him—in no uncertain terms—how desperately she wanted him. How her body wanted him in ways that she couldn’t yet comprehend. Mechanics aside, he knew the power of sex beyond the simple union of bodies. He knew, because Drusilla had used sex to make him believe he loved her. Used his inexperience to make him believe that the one he gave himself to would be the one he was with forever.

God, he’d been so horribly naïve then. Such a bloody pathetic wanker. Duped so easily. Old fashioned, even for then, when the term meant something else entirely. Hell, old everything. An old man at twenty-eight. He’d thought that love was the way the poets wrote it. That, despite the debauchery of underground London, most people equated love with sex.

Dru had known that about him. She’d used her sex as well as her power over him as his sire to get what she wanted, and she’d done it for over a hundred years.

She’d used sex to make him believe he loved her, and he never wanted Buffy to be in that position. He wanted her to love him before he took her body. Before he sank his fangs into her throat and made her completely his.

Now that he loved her—now that he knew he loved her—everything changed.

God, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her so badly.

“Buffy,” he murmured, releasing her breast with a soft plop.

“Oh…” She arched beneath him again, her fingers threading through his hair. “Spike…”

His mouth wandered southward, peppering soft kisses across her stomach.

“I need…”

“Gonna give you what you need, sweet.” He nipped at her skin. “Gonna eat you up.”

“What…”

“Let me?” He had already sat back and was edging her sweats down her legs. “I wanna taste you so badly. Your sweet li’l puss is jus’ beggin’ for my mouth. Lemme give it to her, yeah?”

“What about…” Buffy whimpered slightly and attempted to sit up. He licked at her cleft, sending her back to the cushions with a long mewl. “Oh God!”

“Fuck yeah. Lemme taste your honey. You want it, don’t you?”

“Spike!”

He chuckled against her, and he couldn’t help but grin when she moaned at the vibrations he sent shuddering through her body. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“What about…oh god…what about you?”

“Me?”

Her skin was turning a charming shade of red, and it took only seconds to decipher what she meant.

“Oh Buffy…” His mouth returned to her sodden folds, nibbling gently, drinking in every pleasured moan that erupted from her lips. “This is what I need,” he promised her. “Right here.”

She gave him so much in simply letting him touch her. Be with her. Share her home, share her sofa, share any part of the world that had been graced by her.

“I want to…Spike, I wanna make you…” His lips wrapped around her clit, and she trailed off with another throaty moan, her head digging further into the cushions as her hips thrust against his hungry mouth. “Oh!”

He shuddered at the implications of her open-ended sentence, sinking two fingers within her tight sheath. “Such a tasty quim,” he growled, teasing her swollen pearl with the hint of his teeth. “You like that?”

“Oh!”

“You like me licking your clit?”

She trembled, and he trembled with her. His thrusting fingers venturing just a bit further with every plunge. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was so warm. So bloody hot. So open and inviting, even if she didn’t know it. And her innocence about ripped him apart. Somehow, he knew that there was no other man—alive or dead—that would ever begin to understand the gift Buffy had to offer. She was his for the taking. She was all his.

“Spike!”

“Want my tongue inside you, baby?” He thrust his fingers deeper within her. “Want me to taste you here?”

She was flushing so brilliantly, he honestly didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or arousal. He hoped the latter—as much as her shyness enchanted him, he never wanted her to feel ashamed of what they did together. As crude as he was, whatever happened between them was natural, and poncy as it might sound, beautiful. She’d given him beauty where he thought it couldn’t possibly exist anymore.

“Don’t be shy,” he murmured, suckling her clit into his mouth again. “Tell me what you want.”

“Spike…”

“You got that.” He grinned. “You got that for life.”

“Uhhh…”

“What do you want Spike to do? He’s all yours. He’ll do whatever you ask.”

Buffy moaned and thrust her hips forward. She was blushing hard, her eyes avoiding his.

“Tell me, pet.” He tongued her sensitive button roughly, coaxing another long whimper. “’S all right. It’s all right to want. To know what you like. I wanna know. I wanna know exactly what you like. You like my fingers inside you, or would you rather have my tongue? Don’ be shy.”

“Ooohh…”

“Don’t be shy, kitten. No one here’s gonna laugh at you. It’s jus’ you an’ me.”

That seemed to relax her a bit. “I want…”

“Tell me.”

“Your tongue.”

He nodded his encouragement. “Where?”

“Inside me.”

Spike grinned and pressed a parting kiss to her clit. “Good girl,” he growled appraisingly, slipping his fingers out of her wet sheath and plunging his tongue inside. She arched back again, howling in pleasure, panting hard as his thumb settled over her abandoned clit and began stroking her roughly.

“Oh my…oh my God!”

“Mmmm…” He pulled back for a beat, smacking his lips. “You taste divine. Like milk an’ honey.”

“Spike!”

“You like this, baby?”

She nodded furiously. “Oh God.”

She was like wine. Pure ambrosia. He couldn’t get enough of her taste. Her juices trickled down his throat, bathed his tongue, and he couldn’t get enough. He felt immersed in purity. Like he was touching the heavens without fear of dusting. God, she tasted even better than she had the night before. When it had been rash and passionate, when he had taken her pussy with his mouth out of anger turned to lust, and lust that demanded a taste of what was his. The promise of what was his.

Now, right now, with her…with her cries of pleasure in the air, the taste of her in his mouth…this was the reward for his patience. This was the reason he’d waited for her for fourteen years. Her legs were around his head, her delicious cunny was thrusting against his face, and he was where he belonged. Where he’d always belonged.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

Buffy didn’t answer; he doubted she’d even heard him. The next second, she clutched his head again and held him to her as she came. He was awash in her spendings, lapping up everything she had to give him. Drinking her greedily. Holding her as she fell back from the stars.

Stars he’d given her.

Bloody hell.

She was so amazing.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, prying her eyes open almost reluctantly. “Oh my God.”

Spike grinned, resting his chin against her pubic bone. “You like that?”

Her chest was heaving and she sat up weakly. “You’ve turned me into goo.”

He smirked, sliding a finger into her pussy. “I’ll say.”

“Oh God, I can’t again.”

“Ohhh, I think you can.”

“Spike, no, I—”

It was too late. He was gone; determined to prove her wrong.

And he did. Twice. He could have stayed between her heavenly thighs all night.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Buffy asked, pulling her sweats over her hips before he could dive in for fourths. “This is the way you do it. Death by orgasm.”

He was surprised she managed to say the word without blushing, though he figured if she grew any redder she might burst into flames. “Yeh, that’s it,” he drawled. “This is how I did in the other slayers.”

From red to green in point two seconds. Interesting.

“What!”

Spike chuckled and tugged her into his arms. “Kidding, luv.”

“Better be. I’m still not wild about the idea of you and another woman for a hundred years. That’s hard to compete with.”

“No, sweetheart. Not you.” I love you. “I’ll never want anyone but you. Never.”

“Never’s a long time.”

“I promise.” He kissed her. “You think you can promise me that? Forget the claim for a moment. You think—”

“Easily.”

The word meant nothing compared to the conviction in her voice. She meant it. God, she really meant it.

She was his.

Buffy adjusted herself so she was sitting completely in his lap, her pussy rubbing his straining erection. He would have thought she didn’t know what she was doing had there not been a wise, womanly look in her eyes that explained, in no uncertain terms, that she knew all too well exactly what she was doing. “Tell me what you like,” she murmured, nibbling at his throat. “Tell me what to do for you.”

Oh God.

Spike drew in a breath. The weight of her offering had him ready to come in his pants, and he figured that would be one hefty mood spoiler. “Buffy—”

“I want you.”

“Fuck, I want you, too, but we can’t—”

“Why?”

Why?

Yes, that was a very good question.

“You don’ owe me anythin’, luv.”

Buffy frowned and drew her head back. “You don’t want me to—”

“Bloody right I want you to. I jus’…” He sighed and cast a hand through his hair. Stupid git, how the hell did he explain this without coming out looking like the mother of all wankers?

“I think we should go to bed.”

“We?”

His eyes narrowed. “You don’ want me to stay?”

“I want you to stay…I just didn’t know if you were going to.”

“Sweetling, the only way to get me out now is to kick me out, an’ we’ve established that’s something you’re not likely to do anytime soon.” Spike smiled and tugged her further into his arms as he rose to his feet. “You’re tired. I don’ want you doin’ anything now ‘cause you feel like I expect it. Like you owe it to me.”

Buffy looked offended for a minute, then flushed again and glanced down. “I just wanted to…I wanted to make you feel good.”

“You do, baby. You think I don’ get off from tastin’ you?”

“Well, I’ve read—”

“Forget what you’ve read. None of that rot applies to me, an’ since I’m the only one touchin’ you—now or forever—you don’ need to waste your time with anythin’ else.”

She smiled sleepily and didn’t offer further objection; rather let him carry her upstairs.

She didn’t speak again until he was settling in bed beside her.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“What do we do about Angelus?”

He drew in a breath and froze. Angelus. Christ, it was so easy to forget the presence of his family when he was in his goddess’s arms. He’d seen them only the night before, but it felt as though so much time had passed. As though Buffy had the ability to alter time and reasoning, and he’d lost himself completely.

Angelus wouldn’t remain silent for long. The sooner he was dealt with, the better.

“Tomorrow,” he told her, kissing her brow. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Rest now.”

“I wanna know…”

“Tomorrow.”

“…what you like. What to do for you.”

His cock stirred at that. God, this girl was going to be the death of him. His death, salvation, and rebirth. She was everything.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated hoarsely.

“Promise?”

His cock wouldn’t let him hold off any longer, he feared. His cock wanted tomorrow to start right now.

But she was tired, and he loved her so much. Too much to ever use her as means to physical gratification. That wasn’t the way he loved, and certainly not the way he loved her. At the same time, he wasn’t a saint, but she made him want to try.

“Promise,” he said.

That seemed to satisfy her, and the questions stopped. She curled in his arms, and was still in seconds.

For the second night in a row, he was given the sanctuary of her embrace. Only now they were both older—they had both wizened and would not repeat the mistakes of that morning.

He held her now as she slept. Held her with love he hadn’t known to recognize the day before.

Held her in the solace she’d given him without even realizing it.

Held her in peace.

Chapter Eighteen

The Devil Is A Gentleman

He’d only been asleep an hour and a half when the feeling jarred him awake. Spike’s eyes flew open. He was still in Buffy’s room, his little goddess pressed intimately against him, slumbering sweetly. Her head was tucked just under his chin, her arm draped over his chest, her right leg resting over his. He could hear her steady heartbeat; feel the rush of her pulse. It was slightly irregular—not in a worrisome way; rather as though she was alert despite being lost in sleep. As though her body knew that he was near.

Spike drew in a deep breath. He wanted desperately to ignore the stirrings that had jerked him from sleep, label them as being paranoid delusions of an over-active subconscious, but he couldn’t. No force on earth could recreate the presence of family. Angelus was near. Angelus was outside. Angelus was at Buffy’s house.

More over, Angelus was there because Spike was there. He’d brought Angelus to Buffy’s house. He didn’t know how he knew—it was simply there. An understanding. A truth. Angelus wasn’t outside for the Slayer; he had made the midnight visit to torment the youngest member of his family.

Spike wasn’t one to disappoint. With a deep sigh, he cautiously extracted himself from Buffy’s embrace. He didn’t want to disturb her, or worry her with what was about to happen. Though he hadn’t the faintest idea why Angelus would seek him out, especially since the enormous sod had done all he could to ignore him while he was an active part of the Order, there was no reason for the Slayer to get involved. Not now. Not if it was avoidable.

The vampire sighed again, turning back to Buffy. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. So warm and inviting, even in sleep. And she was safe in her room. Angelus couldn’t get inside, and if he did try one of the less-conventional methods of getting humans out of their homes, Spike would get to her first. As her mate, any alternative was impossible.

As the man who loved her, it was even more so.

Spike slid his discarded t-shirt over his chest and proceeded downstairs. He found Angelus where he knew he’d be; outside, a demon without shame, looking in through the paned side-window with a half-curious, half-bored look on his face.

God, he hated the sod. He hated him so much.

Irregardless, he had to find out why his grandsire had decided to visit. It wasn’t like him; Angelus liked sneaking around and leaving surprises for those he targeted. Until he was ready for the big show-down, he used lackeys to deliver his messages outright. He rarely showed his face until he was ready. Until he felt it was time.

He really was the greatest wanker of them all.

Spike pried open the door and greeted his grandsire with a dry, unimpressed look. “What?” he spat.

The dull, faintly amused but overly indifferent eyes of Angelus met his outrage, looking at him as though he was the intruder. As though coming to Buffy’s at all had been a drastic inconvenience, and that the younger vampire should be honored to be graced with the presence of his elder.

“What?” Angelus spread his arms with a condescending smirk. “No hug?”

“Get the hell outta here.”

“You know, we really never did perfect your people skills.”

“I can see this is gonna be one of our more enlightenin’ heart-to-hearts, so let’s skip the small talk. You’re a heartless bastard. Now leave.”

“Well, yeah.” Angelus’s brow furrowed, his tone deepening in condescension. “I am heartless.”

“So you decided to pop over here an’ share this li’l revelation?”

“I don’t see why you’re being so hostile.” The elder vampire shrugged. “I came here in peace. I’m not snarling. Not name-calling. I’ve been rather pleasant, I must say, even in the face of unreasoning resentment. Why don’t you hear me out before you throw stones?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “I got a better idea. Why don’ I close this door an’ forget your miserable face came within a hundred feet of my mate tonight. That sound good to you?”

“Ahh, yes, that’s exactly what I’m here to talk about.” Angelus’s eyes twinkled maliciously. “Your mate.”

His chest tightened and the demon snarled. He knew what the other vampire was pushing at, and he wasn’t about to forfeit the reaction he knew the other was garnering for. He would keep his outrage to himself. That was that.

“Uh huh.”

“See…your mate’s the Slayer…”

“Thank you for that. Havin’ been born yesterday—”

“Tsk tsk tsk. No need to get snippy.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. He could talk all he liked, but he knew Angelus wasn’t going anywhere. Hell would freeze, thaw, and freeze again before he abandoned the sanctuary of Buffy’s house, abandon Buffy, simply because there was bad blood between him and his grandsire. He didn’t fear Angelus—no, he’d never feared Angelus. But he knew him well enough to know that complying with what he wanted was likely the stupidest thing anyone could ever do.

Angelus was an arrogant son of a bitch, but he wasn’t stupid. If he was here, there was a reason.

“What is it?”

The elder vampire arched a brow. “Hrm?”

“What do you want?”

“Can’t a vampire visit another—”

“No. Get on with it.”

There was a sigh and he shook his head. “Fine, have it your way.”

Balls. It was never his way. Never Spike’s decision. Angelus didn’t give a fuck about him, or anyone else for that matter. He barely conjured enough empathy for his own mate. He helped Darla because when she was in pain, he was as well. It was all self-serving. And in that regard, it was to everyone’s benefit that vampires lacked reflection. If Angelus could see himself in the mirror, he wouldn’t be able to draw his eyes away from his own visage long enough to feed himself.

Though, in retrospect, that wasn’t a bad thing.

“I came here ‘cause Dru wanted me to make a direct appeal. For whatever reason, she thinks you’re important.”

Spike took the insult with a grain of salt. He wouldn’t allow Angelus the pleasure of seeing him flinch. “For what?”

Angelus shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Just got tired of her yapping. You know how she is.”

He was trying to provoke a violent response. It wasn’t going to work.

“So you’re over here to recruit me for a job that you don’ even have the inside info on? Sorry, mate. With as miserable as these last few years have been, I’ve taken certain pleasure in not havin’ to deal with you an’ the merry band.”

“Ah, that’s right.” His eyes twinkled as though he had just remembered something. “You’re housebroken now.”

Spike shrugged. “’F that’s what you wanna call it. We’ve already traded pleasantries, Angelus. I don’ give a rip ‘bout you or the rest of them, an’ I certainly don’ care what you think of me.”

“Spoken like a true protestant.”

“Point. I’m sure you’re gettin’ to that, right?”

“Thought I’d already made myself clear. For reasons beyond me, Dru seems to think you’re valuable. And since I find shutting her up is the best way to keep her off my back when I don’t feel like playing nanny, here I am.” He spread his arms as though he was a saint. “Come on. You can’t seriously be happy like this.”

“Every minute I spend away from the lot of you is the happiest of my unlife. Now bugger off.”

“You really don’t think it’s going to be that simple, do you?” Angelus sighed and shifted. “Listen, we’re not here, regardless of what you may think, because of your precious mate.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “You jus’ bleedin’ said you were here to talk about her—”

“So I lied.” He shrugged. “Partly. Had to get your attention somehow. She is a source of concern, and of course, when Dru told us that she was who you’d been with these past fourteen years…well, that was just funny.”

Ah. So that’s how word had gotten out. His former had had a vision, or an inkling, or whatever it was she had. That didn’t change anything, though. Angelus was still at his mate’s home. His demon sensed a predator—a threat—and it was all he could do to keep himself from barreling over the threshold.

“Dru’s had a lot of interesting visions lately,” the elder vampire continued conversationally. “The one that brought us here is particularly…well…one doesn’t want to use the word ‘delicious,’ but at times, one must. I just love a good apocalypse, don’t you?” He grinned. “Anyway, Dru thinks you’re important for what we need. I’m here to prove her wrong.”

That made him freeze. God, no. “What?” he demanded. “What has she—”

Angelus roared a long, mocking chuckle. “Good God. Do I have STUPID tattooed to my forehead? You’re with the Slayer. Do you honestly think I’m going to sit here and divulge my big, evil plan with all the incriminating details?”

“Well, it was worth a shot. After all, ‘f you think I’d do anythin’ to help you miserable—”

The elder vampire just grinned. “See? Just as I thought. Not important at all.”

“Whatever you have planned, she’ll stop you.” A pause. The words tumbling from his mouth were almost foreign. Something big and evil was going down, and he found himself, for the first time, on the side of humanity. Placing his hope in the forces of good, almost without realizing it. Buffy was sleeping upstairs, and her life centered on saving the world. Therefore, as her mate, his did as well. “We’ll stop you.”

“Oh. I’m counting on it.” A familiar scent hit the air just as Angelus’s eyes traveled to the staircase, a slow grin spreading across his face. “And I’m certainly counting on her.”

Spike froze. “Buffy,” he said calmly, not turning around. “Go back to bed.”

“What’s going on?”

There was no suspicion in her tone like he’d expected. After all, a vampire she’d known only for two days who had all but barreled into her life was talking with a member of the Order he had long ago abandoned. It could look bad, but she had faith. The notion warmed him thoroughly.

God, he loved her.

Still, that didn’t mean he wanted her to be any part of this. He didn’t want to drag her into the wretched bowels of his hollowed existence before she lit up his life. Angelus was here for him, despite all his huffing; he wasn’t interested in Buffy, other than collateral. A slayer to finally add to his belt. And even if he didn’t get to kill her—which he so obviously wanted, simply because he loved tormenting Spike—there would be another slayer after her. Another girl to kill. And another, and another. In terms of forever, his possibilities were endless.

Unless he was dust. And Spike would see him dust. Before this was over, he would see the son of a bitch scattered in particles on the earth.

“Ah, look what we have here!” Angelus drawled. “A little morsel has come out to play. Hello there, Buffy.” He drew in a deep breath. “I was just telling Spike here what—”

“He’s not staying.”

Her voice was lost and confused. “Spike—”

“Go back upstairs, sweet. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Oh, he will.” Angelus nodded. “He’s not enough of a vamp to actually defend your honor. He’ll curl in bed, whisper niceties in your ear, and pretend to not wanna nice fuck while he dreams of women of experience.” He smiled condescendingly. “Isn’t that right?”

Spike’s eyes flared. “Get outta here!”

“See what I mean? You know, Darla and I keep having this argument, so maybe you two could help out.” His smile turned malicious, his eyes focused on the Slayer. “Would it be funnier to tie Spike up and make him watch as I fuck you to death, or to take you from behind while Darla and Dru teach you why no mortal girl could please a vampire?”

Spike saw red. Fury as black as anything he’d ever experienced flooded his veins. The last strains on his control had finally snapped. The bones in his face shifted and he roared his outrage…and had the demon not been immediately drawn to the presence of his mate, he feared he would have foregone every strain of his personal reserve.

He’d never felt Buffy move so fast. Never. In one second, she was at the top of the stairs; the next, she was barreling downward, all but flying over the threshold and toward Angelus’s waiting grasp.

No. Not like this.

Spike acted without thought. He caught her around the middle just seconds before she flew past the door, ignoring the cackling ring of Angelus’s entertainment. “Oh, yeah!” the elder vampire cried gleefully, clasping his hands together. “Big man!”

“Get the hell outta here!”

“You’re sure he’s the one you want making you a woman, little Buff?” he continued nastily, his eyes focused on Buffy in ways that made the younger demon want to forget the claim, if only for a second, so that he could deal with his grandsire without worrying about his mate. Without worrying for a fraction of a moment. “Spike’s still a child. Not capable of handling what a slayer needs. A disgrace of the Order. Christ, the boy wouldn’t know where to put his dick without a manual.”

Buffy growled and struggled against Spike’s hold on her. Holy fuck, she growled.

“Ohh, feisty!”

“Get outta here!” Spike snapped. “Get the hell out!”

“She’s not gonna want to be caged up forever, boy,” Angelus said, shrugging. “Just tell her where to find me when she wants the real thing. I’d love to have a taste.”

“Let me go!” Buffy screamed. “I’m gonna rip his head off!”

“Come on, Spike! Let her go!”

Spike slammed the door closed before his control snapped completely. He released his struggling mate, avoiding the glare of her eyes as he double-checked the locks, peeked through the window panes to make sure Angelus was gone. And he was. His grandsire had accomplished what he wanted. He’d distressed the Slayer, infuriated the only vampire in history to walk away from his Order, and planted a seed of doubt.

Something was coming. They weren’t here for Buffy; they were here for something else. Dru had had a vision, and he was supposed to play a part. Dru wanted him, for whatever reason.

Bugger. That. He would never do anything to bring danger to his mate.

“Why?” Buffy demanded, drawing him back to the present. “You can’t protect me, Spike! This is my job! A vampire was at my house, and—”

“A vampire is still at your house, luv.”

“You should’ve let me kill him!”

His eyes flared. “He would’ve torn you apart.”

“Thanks. It’s so nice to know that my mate for life…or eternity…or whatever has so much faith in my—”

“He would’ve used me against you, you daft bint. That pain you were feelin’ earlier? You can’t control it. Not without makin’ it complete. Your emotions are tied with reactions, an’ yeh, that doesn’ go away, but you do learn how to temper it.” Spike shook his head furiously. “An’ you don’ know Angelus. He’s an arrogant sod, but he’s lived two hundred an’ fifty years for a reason.”

“I could’ve taken him!”

“No, you couldn’t have. Not like this. Not with the pain you’re feelin’. He would’ve used me against you, an’ then you against me. He would’ve used us against each other.” Spike took a step forward. He knew he was being redundant, and he didn’t care. Whatever he had to do to get through to her. “You’re stronger than he is, but you don’ know how to fight him. Strength doesn’ mean rot if you don’ know how to use it. If you think for one second I’m the type to stand aside an’ let the woman I love put herself in danger, you’re off your sodding nutter. I’d sooner walk into daylight.”

Buffy blanched, anger vanishing.

Spike froze, recounted, and cursed.

Bloody hell.

“W-what?”

“Nothing.”

“Spike—”

It was too soon. He wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready for a conversation about love. He had only tonight realized the true extent of his feelings, and she was still terrified of him. Of everything. While she had aged significantly emotionally in the past few hours, he was all too aware of how much love could change things. Could terrify a girl her age who hadn’t felt anything like this before. In any regard, shouting it at her had been the last way he’d wanted to tell her.

Bollocks up everythin’.

And yet, she looked so torn there in the entryway. Fury had faded and she was Buffy again. Just Buffy, not the Slayer. Buffy who was looking at him as though he had just fallen from the heavens. As though the concept of anyone loving her was so out there, that even the one designated to be her mate for eternity would be hard pressed to voice the words.

Before he knew what was happening, she had launched herself into his arms and attacked his mouth with hers. And he melted into her. His arms came around her in a fury, hauling her against him as her tongue found his, stroking him into oblivion with the simple sweetness of her kisses. Her body was so warm and inviting; her heart pounded furiously against his unanswering chest, her pelvis thrusting against his needily, small whimpers scratching at her throat as he guided her back toward the staircase.

God, he needed her so much. Every kiss tested his resolve. Every time he touched her warm, welcoming flesh. Every time her arousal permeated the air. Every everything she gave him. And now, she was surpassing her shyness by letting lust guide her actions. He wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer. His need for her, eclipsed only by his love, had tormented his restraint long enough.

But not now. Christ, he wanted it, but not now. He wasn’t going to let her give herself to him because she thought she had to. Because she’d heard the words, mistake as it had been.

“Tell me,” she pleaded softly between kisses, and the voice of her insecurities broke his heart. “Please, Spike.”

He melted.

God, I’m already damned.

“I love you,” he gasped against her mouth, his hands exploring every soft curve her warm body had to offer. “I love you so much, Buffy.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

She kissed his lips again, then pressed her mouth to his throat, shuddering against him as his fingers found her nipples. “Spike…”

God, she’d opened a gate. “I love you,” he murmured again. “I love you.”

Suddenly, the rest didn’t matter at all. His earlier agreement with himself was forgotten. Buffy was crying again, but for the first time, he’d given her tears of happiness.

Whatever Angelus had planned, he would make sure it never saw fruition. The woman he loved was holding him, crying because he’d told her how he felt. There had never been anything like this. Never.

He would fight for her until the end of the world. No matter what it took.

No matter what it cost.

Chapter Nineteen

Forever In Your Eyes

Spike released the breath he’d been holding as Buffy shoved him back to her bed, a womanly, hungry look in her eyes. The sight was enough to make his frozen blood boil—the expression on her face was so intent, he felt the flames of his own demise licking his insides. Gone completely from the girl he had known just a short time ago; he’d made Buffy into a woman. And she was learning to take what she wanted.

She tore his shirt off, and before he could get a word in—teasing or otherwise—her hot, perfect mouth dropped to his chest, pressing wet ardent kisses into his skin. She was moving over his denim-clad erection in long, womanly strokes, and she was driving him out of his mind.

“Oh God.”

He felt her smile against him. “You like?”

“Fuck, what are you doing to me?”

Unwinding him completely—that was what she was doing. He’d been kissed before, but not like this. Not to the degree where he felt certain every part of him was on fire. When every brush of her lips against his skin made his body tremble with the wealth of adoration she fed him.

“I’m finding out what you like,” she murmured, her fingers dancing over his abdomen, dangerously nearing the throbbing predicament in his trousers. “Finding out what you…what I can do for you to make you feel good.”

God, her words haunted him. Teased him. He remembered her asking, but knowing that she actually wanted to please him made everything different. Made everything real.

This wasn’t returning the favor. This was her feeling for him pouring through, and it touched him in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“I said…tomorrow.”

“Yes. It’s after midnight.” She nipped at one of his nipples. “It’s tomorrow.”

There was reverence in her tone that hadn’t been there before. The words he’d spoken not ten minutes ago hazed around him, and he knew with sudden certainty exactly what she was doing, and why.

“Buffy,” he choked, hissing as his eager cock sprang into her waiting grasp. “You don’ have to…not because I said—”

“I want to. I wanted to before we went to bed.” He watched her adoringly, the warm haven of her touch curled around his shaft, pumping him steadily. She was watching the movements of her hand with mixed fascination and embarrassment, which charmed him even more. She was so innocent, and that wasn’t betrayed by her girlish pursuit of him. Her eyes swallowed his cock with almost unbearable intensity. He grew harder simply by having her silent appraisal. By having her study the movements of her hand hungrily, wringing moans from his throat without even realizing it.

“Buffy…”

“I’ve never seen one before.”

“One?”

“Your…” Rouge tinted her cheeks. “I’ve never seen…”

He arched a brow. He already knew to never pass up a good opportunity to turn her a deeper shade of red, despite his eagerness to see her bashfulness cast aside. “A dick?”

It worked. Her flush deepened. “No.”

A grin tickled his lips. “Yeh? Not even in books or dirty films?”

“Well, you know my whole sordid history, don’t you?”

His grin broadened.

“I don’t watch those movies.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m just saying, I had some idea of what they looked like…if that’s what you’re asking.” She tentatively touched his sensitive head, and a long groan tumbled through his throat. A groan that grew louder when she withdrew her hand and looked at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Does that hurt?”

“Fuck no. Do it again.”

“You sounded hurt.”

“Buffy, please.”

She bit her lip and touched him again, watching his face hesitantly as he released another long, unconstrained whimper.

“I didn’t know they stood up like that when they got…” She avoided his eyes. “Hard.”

“An’ you’ve made it this far through public school how?”

“Hey!”

He merely smiled. Truth be told, her questions and observations charmed him. The less she knew of the male anatomy in her pre-Spike years—the ones she didn’t know about—the better.

“Well…how was I supposed to know?” she replied defiantly. “I didn’t exactly get to any base with my past…and I say this loosely…boyfriends.”

He growled.

“Loosely!”

He huffed and licked his lips, watching her small hand as she stroked him fervently, almost unaware of her actions as she spoke.

“It looks kinda funny.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, sweets,” he said lowly. “A man’s manhood is nothin’ to be taken lightly.”

“I don’t mean in a bad way,” she assured him. “I like it. I just haven’t seen one, and I guess I thought they’d look different.”

“Uh huh. How so?”

“Smaller?” she offered, blushing again as though realizing that they were still talking about his cock as she pumped the hard length of him. “And not quite so…stick-uppy.”

Spike grinned. “Not bad, though?”

“No…” There was a flicker of hunger in her eyes that had him moaning all over again. “Not bad.”

Her attentions to his cock were becoming more boisterous. That small hand of hers worked magic on him. He’d never felt so lost in anything—anyone. Like he was on the verge of losing the entirety of his being, but he didn’t fear the fall. Buffy didn’t claw. She didn’t grab him by the balls and use her sex to bend him to her will. She did nothing of the sort. She was soft and warm and loving, and he would never get enough of her.

Her timid fingers ran up the length of his cock, brushing gently against his head. He melted into another whimper, and thrust needily into her hand. “Buffy…god, baby, please.”

“What do you need?”

“You.”

She blushed and grinned but shook her head. “Spike—”

“I answered honestly.”

“What do you like?”

“You,” he said again, eyes twinkling. “I like you very much.”

“What do you want me to do for you?” Buffy looked at him imploringly. “Please, Spike, I wanna know what you like. What I can do to make you feel good. I’m…” She glanced down. “I don’t know if you…I’ve heard stories and stuff, about…” Her eyes dropped shyly to his erection, and her skin flushed redder. “I just don’t know what I’ll do that you’ll like.”

“I like anything.”

“Spike…”

He felt dirty. Vile. He was the murderer of hundreds, but he couldn’t fathom tainting her with his nasty fantasies. What did he want? He wanted that gorgeous mouth of hers wrapped around his cock, deep-throating him into oblivion. He wanted the feel of her velvet tongue against his skin, lapping at his head, suckling at his balls as she fingered herself. He wanted to see her hand buried in her sweet little quim as she sucked him off. He wanted to tunnel his fingers through her hair and hold her to him as he fucked her mouth, and he wanted to empty himself in her throat.

But he didn’t. As potent as his desires were, he wouldn’t degrade her by asking. By putting a name to his desires. He knew all too well the views of women when it came to blowjobs, and he didn’t want her to ever resent him for what he wanted. Despite his yearnings, simply touching her was enough. Feeling her hand wrapped around him was the sweetest solace he’d ever known. He loved her too much to ask for anything more.

And amazingly, she read his mind.

“Spike, I want to know. I don’t care what it is.” She paused shyly. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

He whimpered and drove his hips forward. “Christ, Buffy!”

“I’ll do it.”

“Oh, God.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“Buffy, I—oh fuck!”

Her tongue wrapped around his head, suckling sweetly. She was nervous. He could hear her heart pounding, the thunder of her pulse as it raced through her veins. She was a goddess. His hot, fiery goddess. And he was lost in her.

“Buffy,” he moaned, thrusting into her mouth before he could help himself. “So hot.”

“Is this okay?”

He nodded fervently, releasing a choked sob. “Oh God!”

“Spike…”

“So good. Buffy, please…” Spike threw his head back and whimpered. “Please…need your hot mouth.”

She brushed a tender kiss across the head of his cock, and he nearly yelped. “Tell me what to do,” she murmured. “Please…I wanna—”

“T-take me into your mouth,” he pleaded. “Need you. Oh God, Buffy, I need you so much.”

Her lips slid over his head once more, venturing down the hard length of him tentatively, her eyes remained on his face, her small hand circling the base of his erection and squeezing gently. He threaded his fingers through her hair, thrusting only slightly deeper into her. God, she felt wonderful. So good. She was nervous, but her inexperience charmed him. If anything, the knowledge that he was the only man who had or ever would know this bliss made the act itself even more sacred than before. Heightened it to euphoric levels that he had never before fathomed.

Buffy murmured around him, bobbing her head experimentally, venturing a bit more of him into her mouth with every drive.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so hot,” he gasped, arching into her. “So perfect.”

“Mmm…”

“Such a sweet li’l mouth.” He hazarded a glance at her and nearly lost himself. “Buffy…please.”

She looked at him.

“My…” The request felt so vulgar. She was giving him something precious, and he had the audacity to want more. “Please…”

Buffy’s lips left him completely, and he bit the impulse to cry out in protest. “What is it?” she asked, her hand pumping him rhythmically in the absence of her mouth. “Please tell me. I wanna know.”

God, she really did. She wanted to know how to please him. She’d been saying the words for a while now, but only at that moment did he actually hear them. She wanted to know how to bring him pleasure. How to make him feel the way he made her feel. The notion itself was enough to make him fall over the edge. No one in all his years had ever made an attempt to know his body like this. Know what he liked, what he didn’t like, and actually care for him and his needs beyond what he could do for whoever was sharing his bed.

Drusilla, obviously. Always Drusilla. Their sex life had been all about her, and because he’d believed himself in love, he’d allowed it.

Buffy was giving him something he hadn’t known to want. All at once, he felt like a virgin clinging desperately to his last strands of control.

“Spike—”

“My balls,” he gasped. “Please.”

She flushed and he about lost it again as her eyes shyly lowered once more to his sac. She cupped him with her free hand, testing the weight of him in her palm, and licked her lips before raising her gaze to his once more. “You want my mouth there?” she asked softly. “Or—”

“Your mouth.”

Buffy reddened even deeper but lowered her head once more, and suckled his sensitive skin between her teeth. The hand wrapped around his cock remembered itself after a few seconds, and began pumping him ardently once more, her thumb caressing his sensitive slit with every lap.

“Ahhh…” Spike screwed his eyes shut as she bathed him with her tongue. He would have to redefine ecstasy after this. The cold, lonely nights of watching her from afar were over. After so many years, he was where he needed to be. He had the touch he craved with more feeling than he’d ever thought possible. He had everything.

He had Buffy.

“Buffy—”

She glanced up. He curled his own hand around his cock and directed it back into her mouth. For a minute, he thought he might have offended her for the way she paused and looked at him questioningly. That thought died just as easily. She graced him with a small, saucy smile, and took his length back into her haven, resuming the natural rhythm she’d been perfecting before his request.

Watching her suck him off was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. The way her eyes remained on him, careful, curious, unaware of how much every move she made reverberated through his entire being. How effortlessly she drove him crazy.

“God, I love you,” he sighed.

Awe filled her eyes, and for a minute, he thought she might cry.

It was that look that did it for him. That look that sent him over the edge.

“Buffy, I’m gonna…stop!”

Not the best thing to scream. Her lips froze around him in confusion and shades of hurt. Spike cursed inwardly, drew in a deep breath, and jerked his cock out of her cavern, fisting her linen sheets and coming hard in the fabric that wasn’t nearly as warm and welcoming as her mouth had been. It seemed to last forever—that split second of paradise. In a room that smelled of her, tasted of her, with her juices still flavoring his throat from earlier that night and his cock warm with the feel of her, he knew he had touched the hand of God.

It was just a wonder he hadn’t burst into flames in the process.

His body positively hummed as he fell back to earth. Back into the Slayer’s bed, with Buffy curling up beside him. Back to the place he belonged.

“Spike?”

He grinned, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the post-coitus basking. “Baby?”

“Are…” Her voice was small, fragile, and wiped the smile off his lips immediately. “Was that…did I do okay?”

Spike’s eyes flew open and he looked at her. There was such uncertainty buried in her gaze, and though he didn’t know his crime, he was ready to place his head on the chopping block for ever making her doubt herself.

“Buffy…that was bloody brilliant. I’ve never felt anythin’ like it. I mean it.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, frowning when she didn’t look convinced. “Why would you—”

“You pulled away. I just thought…maybe I’d done something wrong, and—”

Fuck.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He cupped her cheeks and drew her mouth to his, kissing her worries away. “I did it because I din’t think you’d…you’d never done that before, an’ I din’t wanna…most girls don’ like swallowin’. It was your firs’ time, an’ I wasn’t about to take advantage of that by—”

“I wanted to.”

There was no way she could know what that meant, but the notion, the innocent sincerity behind her words, had him hard and ready to go. “Buffy—”

“I wanted to. You…for me, you did—”

“There’s a difference. I like doin’ it, an’ I’ve done it before.” He flinched when she flinched. Bloody careless git. “I only mean—”

“I know what you mean. I just…” Her eyes averted to the few inches of mattress that separated them. “It was good, though?” she asked a minute later. “You really liked it?”

“Buffy, you took me to the stars an’ back, an’ I still landed next to a goddess.” He smiled and kissed her lips again. “Please don’ get upset. I din’t wanna ruin it for you. It was…you have no idea what you jus’ gave me.”

A few seconds passed, then she smiled in relief. “Good.”

He waggled his brows. “I’ll say.”

“I wanted to make sure you know that you’re my guy. I know I don’t have a lot as far as experience goes—”

“Stop right there. You’re perfect.”

It was her innocence that charmed him. Had she been sexually active before he staked his claim on her, what had happened here, as well as all that had happened between, them wouldn’t have meant nearly as much. Not to him, anyway. He knew there were women who had a lot more practice, but not more to offer. Buffy was everything he wanted, or would ever need from life. He was with her now, as she explored her newfound sexuality, and he would be there at the end when they were shagging like bunnies, pushing each other to physical and emotional plateaus that poets only dreamed about.

If he feared dust now, he couldn’t wait for the burn she’d give him down the road.

“Perfect? Hardly.”

He caught her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “Believe it.”

Then he was kissing her, rolling over until her body was under his. Her warm, inviting skin teasing his fingers, the steady hum of her pulse crying out for his fangs.

“Spike—”

He sank his blunt teeth into her neck. “Ah, ah, ah. I’ve had mine. Your smell is drivin’ me batty. ‘S your turn, now.”

A shiver ran through her body. “I’ve already had my turn.”

“An’ I’ve had mine. We’re back to you, kitten.” Spike glanced up, eyes dancing. “That’s the way it works.”

“So you get a turn after this?”

Her camisole flew to the ground, eager hands palming her breasts. “Love the sentiment, but if I’m gonna be a responsible mate, I gotta make sure you get your rest.”

“I wanna give you a turn!”

“Had it.” He licked at her nipples. “’S yours now.” He glanced up, chuckling deeply at the look on her face. “Get used to it, pet. I don’ quit until I win.”

That sparked a fire behind her gaze.

“Oh really?”

Her legs scissored around his waist, and the next thing he knew, she’d flipped him over and was astride his hips, pinning his wrists to the mattress and drawing him into a heated kiss.

Despite his surprise, the move had him so thoroughly horny that it was all he could to keep himself from ripping her sweats away and making a full night of it. Instead, he smirked and thrust his erection against her clad pussy, loving the widening of her eyes as she felt the full length of him. “Gotta love me a girl with nice, strong thighs,” he purred once their lips parted.

The words inspired fire to her cheeks, but she didn’t forgo the high ground. “Bad idea, Spikey,” Buffy replied heatedly, mapping a wet path of bitey kisses down his throat. “Never stand between a slayer and what she wants.”

He shivered in anticipation. “Oh? An’ why’s that?”

God, I love her.

She drew her head back, eyes flickering mischievously. “Watch and learn.”

Chapter Twenty

Shine Until Tomorrow

Buffy was certain everyone would know, simply from looking at her, what she’d been doing all weekend. She was even more convinced that those who knew her best would be able to tell how often and with whom. No one, however, stared at her impolitely or paid her more mind than usual, thus her theory was readily discarded.

The day went by fast, which surprised her. For how much work her teachers had decided to pile on—especially in the last throes of her high school career—to the careless daydreams of platinum blond vampires she caught herself in the middle of during virtually all of her classes, Buffy counted her blessings that she was relatively ignored by the day’s instructors.

For instance, she found her mind wandering as Mrs. Adams discussed the Pythagorean Theorem. Buffy heard tha which translated to thigh which ultimately led to a silent appraisal of Spike’s thighs. She was similarly fortunate to have eluded attention in English, for she might have answered, “Spike’s killer abs,” when asked about the dominant themes of Animal Farm.

The day didn’t provide much chance to talk with Willow about her weekend beyond the breakthrough her friend had encouraged. The redhead spent lunch period in the library, working on her English paper with Oz proofreading pages as she shot them out. Rather, Buffy found herself seated across from Xander and Cordy, who predictably only came up for air to greet her and to comment on the cafeteria food.

As it was, Buffy was looking forward to speaking with Giles, especially after all that Spike had divulged over the weekend. Her daydreams kept her company in the midst of boring classes, and by the time the dismissal bell rang, she found herself in good spirits, and more than a little anxious to see her Watcher.

“Buffy!”

Somehow, over the casual herding of students as they attempted to flee school grounds as quickly as possible, she heard Willow’s cries and eventually snapped from her latest Spike-filled reverie. Buffy turned with a grin and waited patiently for her friend to catch up with her.

“Paper done?”

“I’m halfway through relating the second major theme to my thesis,” Willow replied, catching her breath. “Oz helped me chop out all the stuff I don’t need.”

“What stuff?”

“The stuff that I think is super interesting but will make my paper not so much a paper as a short novel.”

“Ah. So you’re that into…who are you writing on again?”

“Vasily Aksyonov’s Generations in Winter. It’s about the Stalin era.”

Buffy made a face. “Definitely more a you thing than a me thing.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Willow grinned. “So…are you feeling better? The last time I saw you, you were all with the doom and gloom.”

“Not the entire time!” the Slayer pouted before the infectious smile that had been itching her lips all day bloomed into radiance. “Spike came over after you left.”

The redhead’s eyes flashed excitedly. “Oh?”

“…and he left this morning before sunrise.”

“You had him over all weekend?!” Willow looked impressed. “Buffy!”

“Not all weekend…he was gone for that time on Saturday when you were over.”

“For what, four hours?”

“It was six.” She flushed. “Six long, miserable hours.”

“Buffy…you two didn’t…” Her friend’s eyes widened scandalously. “You didn’t…did you?”

No, they hadn’t. They really hadn’t.

They’d practically done everything but, but they hadn’t.

“He said he loves me, Will.”

“But you—”

“No,” she replied. “We did not have the dirty sex. But he…we…did other stuff.”

Willow grinned knowingly, and it occurred to Buffy for the first time that her friend was in a relationship with a guy, just as she was, and had more than once confessed that she and Oz loved each other. She hadn’t, however, gone into illicit details of what the two did when they were alone.

“He loves you?” the redhead repeated as the library came into view. “He told you that he loves you?”

“Yes.” Buffy smiled, her mind already on a fast-track pace back to her sin-filled weekend. “At first it was an accident…him telling me…but then he…just kept saying it.”

In bed. Making breakfast. In the shower. On patrol. When he woke me with his tongue in my—

Buffy pushed the library door open, shaking the thought away before she lost herself again.

Only a familiar stirring stabbed her insides, and she felt him just seconds before she saw him. For a beat, she thought her mind had finally left her, and her naughty fantasies had come to life. But no, Spike was there. He was talking with Giles about something heated from the looks of it, only to be interrupted when he sensed her near.

For long seconds, they seemed deadlocked. As though years had passed since that morning, and they were old lovers that hadn’t seen each other in a lifetime or two. The moment passed and she released a breath when she realized how silly it was to ogle her boyfriend when she had spent the better part of two days curled in his arms, but her skin felt hot and her heart was thundering, and not even logic could change that.

“Hey,” she said awkwardly, breaking through the silence.

Spike smiled. “Afternoon, kitten. Was jus’ comin’ by to tell your Watcher what happened this weekend.”

Her face flamed and she stared at him, mortified.

“Angelus…he dropped by?” The vampire arched a brow. “Remember?”

Her shoulders sagged. Oh, of course. Angelus. He had come to tell Giles about Angelus…not about the dirty almost-sex. Which, obviously, Spike would never do…because he loved her and he would never do anything to embarrass her, especially in front of her Watcher.

Moreover, she was ashamed that her first thought centered on her sex-life with Spike, rather than the imminent danger of his family. She was the Slayer, and she couldn’t forget that.

He’s totally polluted my mind.

A mind he could read all too well. The next thing she knew, he was grinning wildly and wagging his brows.

“Yes,” Giles said, clearing his throat. “Spike arrived about ten minutes ago by means I’m not entirely sure of…all to tell me that the Order of Aurelius is evidently planning the apocalypse.”

“That’s Spike?” Willow asked, as though awaking from a stupor. “Wow, Buff, you weren’t kidding.”

Spike’s grin broadened. “Huh’s that?”

“Nothing…Willow’s just being…funny.” Buffy blushed furiously and lowered her backpack to the ground beside the check-out counter. “Funny Will, that’s what we call her.”

“I don’t suppose it’s unreasonable to focus on the apocalypse part of Spike’s presence here,” Giles said tiredly. “After all, if Angelus is meaning to end the world, we have all the reason to believe that he’s capable of it.”

“He wanted to hunt down Acathla once,” Spike said. “Dru had a vision an’ he spent a good five years tearin’ up the world to find him.”

“Oh dear lord. Acathla?”

“I’m taking it that Acathla isn’t Latin for hugs and puppies,” Buffy commented dryly, hoisting herself atop the counter.

Spike shot her a wary grin. “Hardly. Acathla’s an ancient demon who got himself speared through with a sword. Legend has it, remove the sword, an’ the world gets sucked into Hell.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that,” Giles protested.

“Yeh, well, my version’s simpler. I know how you Watchers get.”

Buffy made a face. “Honestly, what is it with vamps and ending the world?”

“Oh, watch it. Only a couple vamps you’ve faced have ever had aspirations that high.” Spike shrugged. “I figure it’s Angelus’s soddin’ complex bleedin’ through. He wants to destroy the world to make a name for himself.”

“Won’t that not matter if the world is, oh, I dunno, gone?”

Spike shook his head. “See, I don’ think I can credit the wanker for thinkin’ that far ahead. He jus’ wants the glory of destroyin’ it, even if he only gets to enjoy it for half a bleedin’ second.” A pause as he fiddled through his duster pockets and retrieved his cigarettes. “Most vamps hate the thought of Hell as much as anyone else, luv. In the spectrum of all things unholy, half-breeds are the lowest of the low. We’d be hunted out as much as you pulsers if the world was handed over completely. True demons can’t stand the thought of human blood taintin’ demonic lineage. So vamps enjoy the world up here. Only the oldest of the old, like the Master, would’ve ever thought they stood a chance among the full-breeds.”

Willow frowned. “Then why does this…Angelus want to destroy the world?”

“’Cause of his amazin’ ego. He thinks if he pulls it off, I’d wager, that’d earn him some credibility.” Spike lit his cigarette, ignoring Giles’s protests and observations that smoking on school grounds was against the rules. Rather, he tossed the Watcher a mean look, effectively shut him up, then turned to Buffy. “Angelus wants notoriety in Hell. He’s already considered one of the baddest of the bads up here, even among those who are above the pains of bein’ half-breeds. He used to brag about how the Scourge even thought highly of him.”

“The Scourge?” Giles echoed. “I thought you were the Scourge.”

Spike smiled dryly and puffed on his cigarette. “The Order of Aurelius—Darla an’ her offspring—are called the Scourge of Europe. I’m not talkin’ about that. The Scourge itself is a demon organization of full-breeds that declares war on anythin’ with human blood in it. They’re like Nazis, sans the humor. Like I said, vampires are the lowest of the low. An’ unfortunately, I think Angelus’s braggin’ rights on the Scourge are legit.” When he received nothing but another questioning look, he sighed and continued. “Fine. It was 1956. We were in Singapore when the Scourge attacked, targetin’ this clan of Frylik demons an’ any other half-breed that crossed their path. Angelus got us out of that mess by means I’m still hazy on, but even Darla—who doesn’ brag as much—said that the leader of the Scourge was impressed with my grandsire’s lack of humanity.” He shrugged and blew out a stream of smoke. “Din’t help the lot of us any. Almost wished they’d offed us for as much as the old sod bragged about it for the next three years.”

“You have issues with Angelus, don’t you?” Willow asked.

“Other than the fact that he threatened my mate the other night, you mean?” A dangerous glimmer flickered in Spike’s eyes. “The pages of history at its bloodiest can’t even begin to touch how deep my hatred for him runs.”

“So…yes, in other words.”

He smiled. “Yeh, we have a few issues.”

“However,” Giles added, sighing deeply, “seeing as we can’t begin to know what specific plans Angelus has in store, as he refrained from telling Spike, we’re having a meeting to discuss an entity we can’t fight.”

Buffy frowned. “And here I could’ve sworn that was our job…fighting evil.”

“Perhaps if Spike had decided to not shut his elder out so rapidly, we would have a more detailed account on what we can expect.”

“Are you outta your bleedin’ mind?” the vampire growled.

“He’s British,” came the response as the library doors swung open and Xander, Cordelia, and Oz paraded inward. “So let’s not rule anything out.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Xan…”

“Good day, all.” Her friend stopped and nodded in Spike’s direction. “I see we’re now associating with Billy Idol wannabes?”

Spike sighed. “I swear, one day I’m gonna kill that wanker.”

Xander threw his hands up in protest. “Me? What I’d do?”

“Not you, you prat, Billy Bloody Idol. Some day when his teeth are rottin’ an’ he can’t sing anymore.” At the Slayer’s look, he shrugged and indulged a puff of his cigarette. “What? He might be a git, but the boy’s got good music.”

“Is this the guy?” Oz asked, pecking Willow on the cheek.

Buffy flushed madly. Spike looked especially pleased with himself.

“Yeah,” she said, sliding toward her mate self-consciously. “This is the guy.”

“What guy?” Xander demanded. “Have I missed something?”

“Oh, judging by it being, well, you,” Cordy drawled, slipping coolly into the frosty-bitch persona she always put on when around people and Xander at the same time, “I’d say yes.”

Her friend sighed heavily. “Why do I put up with her?”

“And so say all of us,” Willow muttered.

Spike just grinned and curled an arm around Buffy’s waist, sliding her down the length of the counter until she was beside him. “Nice lot you hang out with, Slayer.”

“Shut up.”

“Who’s the guy?” Xander whined. “Come on.”

Giles cleared his throat. “Spike,” he said contemptuously, tossing the vampire and his Slayer a disapproving look. The coldness of his regard had Buffy in knots. He looked as though she had willfully chosen this fate for herself, and that he couldn’t be more disappointed with her decision if she had decided to abandon her duty completely.

Even so, her feelings over the past few days had blossomed radically, and it was no longer a matter of mates or claims. Not to her, and not to Spike. She felt it with every glance he gave her, every time his lips touched her skin. Moreover, he’d said it himself, and there wasn’t any reason to doubt it.

Spike loved her. And what’s more, she loved him. She loved him, and she wanted him to know it.

She’d wanted to say it all weekend, but hadn’t summoned the nerve. Ever since he whispered it to her on Saturday night, the words had been itching at her throat, begging for voice.

She hadn’t said it yet for several reasons. She wanted desperately for him to believe her; wanted there to be absolutely no doubt that she spoke the truth, and was not trying to simply return the words in kind. No, she needed him sure. She needed him to believe her.

When they had awoken the previous day, she’d set about ways of telling him, but the timing was always off. No matter what they did, it hadn’t felt right.

She didn’t want to gasp it as he brought her to climax. She wanted it real.

Tonight.

“Okay,” Xander said, shaking her back to the present. “I’m taking it that Billy Idol is Spike.”

“Spike is a vampire,” Giles explained. “As well as Buffy’s mate.”

Xander and Cordelia were the only people in the room that reacted.

“He’s a vampire?” the former screeched, newfound fear pouring into his eyes. “Then why is he all…cuddly with the Slayer? There should be no cuddlies between vampires and slayers!”

“You have absolutely no idea how much I agree with that sentiment,” Giles remarked.

“This just makes her an even bigger freak,” Cordelia decided.

Spike growled.

“Okay, sense is not being made here!”

Willow scowled. “There’s plenty of sense to be had!” she protested. “Spike is Buffy’s mate. He’s not like other vampires.”

“What bizarre-o world are you referring to, there, Will?”

“Willow knows?” Giles demanded.

“I told her on Saturday,” Buffy replied, feeling all of three inches tall. “I was going through some stuff and she helped me.”

“Okay, so everyone knows except Xander,” Xander said irritably. “Everyone always knows except Xander.”

“Oh calm down,” Giles snapped. “Buffy is Spike’s mate. Vampires are predestined to mate with other vampires. It’s eternal, unbreakable, unavoidable, and one of the most potent connections that ever was or ever will be. Though it has not happened before now, it was foreseen that all slayers are similarly destined to have vampiric mates, as slayers and vampires are of the same mold, and there is only one slayer at a time. Spike is the first vampire to have ever found this out…rather, he’s the only vampire who knows how and why it’s possible. And now, other than the Council, the lot of you are in on it as well.” He paused. “Spike is Buffy’s mate. He’s also a slayer killer, and he’s brought his family to Sunnydale to start the apocalypse.”

“Now hold on,” Buffy intervened sharply, hand going to her mate’s and squeezing tightly. “Spike’s been here ever since I’ve been here, and I don’t think we can say the same for the rest of those guys.”

“Huh?” Xander asked, lost. No one looked at him.

“And even so, Giles, Spike is my mate. And you just said that, like it or not, there’s nothing anyone can do about it. So start getting used to it.”

At that, the Watcher glanced down, almost ashamed. It seemed that much had somehow escaped his notice.

“Authority is addictive,” Spike murmured in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “An’ you wear it very well.”

“As for him killing slayers,” Buffy continued, flushed, “yes, it happened. It happened before he knew anything about me or the fact that we’re mated.”

“Have you claimed each other, then?” Giles asked softly.

No. I’m waiting.

For what, she did not know. Just as confessing her love didn’t seem right, she wanted to perform the ritual that would tie them together for eternity after everything was on the table. She didn’t want him wondering about how she felt, or if she could ever love him the way he seemed to love her.

Though she felt if they waited any longer, she would burst.

Tonight. It has to be tonight.

“The Slayer’s waitin’,” Spike explained, squeezing her hand again. “I jus’ dumped this on her recently. Don’ wanna push the girl in too far yet.”

“If it’s unavoidable—”

“Because somethin’ is unavoidable, Rupert, doesn’ mean you get careless about it. This is both our eternities we’re talkin’ about. If she’s not ready, I’m not, either.”

Oh yeah. She totally loved him.

“Very well,” Giles said with another long sigh. “I think it might be best, then, if you two take patrol tonight. We need to know what sort of apocalypse Angelus has in mind. Spike?”

“I’ve been tryin’ to track ‘em down for a few days,” he admitted. “Ever since I saw them the other night. Dru’s either gotten better at magic, or she’s kidnapped a warlock or what all, ‘cause their scent’s everywhere. I keep runnin’ into all these bloody dead ends.”

“We’ll hit it tonight, though,” Buffy said. “This town’s only so big. They can’t hide forever.”

“I am so confused,” Xander muttered.

“Imagine our surprise,” Cordy retorted.

“I’ll come by your house tonight,” Willow suggested. “To talk tactics…for if you find him, and if you don’t. Somehow, I don’t like the idea of an uber creepy vampire out there, just hiding until it’s time for him to push the ‘start’ button on the apocalypse.”

“Sounds good,” Buffy agreed. “What time?”

“Eight-ish? Will that give you enough time to make with the patrol?”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance.

“Should be fine.”

“I’ll try to head over around eleven, unless that’s too late.” Oz offered a shrug. “Band practice. Devon learned a new chord, and he wants to wow all of us with his now multi-chord tricks of magic and wonder.”

The Slayer grinned. “Should be fine. My mom’s not due back for another week.”

Cordy’s brows arched. “You get the house to yourself and Mr. Sex-On-Legs with a sacred duty to screw his brains out?” She cursed to herself. “I think I kinda hate you.”

Spike beamed. Oz shrugged. Everyone else looked uncomfortable.

“Ummm, right,” Willow said hurriedly, breaking the ice. “So…eight-ish? Your place?”

“We’ll be back by then,” Buffy said, hopping off the counter and tugging Spike along with her. “Now we’re heading back.”

Xander frowned. “Back where?”

“My house.”

“Isn’t it a little sunny outside?”

Spike whirled around at that, his arm closing over Buffy’s middle. “No worries, mate,” he said, waggling his brows. “We’ll take the scenic route.”

They made three uneventful sweeps of all the hot spots that night. Though he didn’t say anything, Buffy could tell that her boyfriend was getting irritated with himself. He’d pick up a trail and follow it for about a half hour before meeting a dead-end. There was simply no catching up with the Order. If they were even staying in town—which both Spike and Buffy agreed they must be—they were somewhere well hidden with all the anticipatory moves a vampire would make with the mindset of avoiding other vampires.

It was a quarter past seven. The town was dead—seriously dead. No fledglings, no demons, no nothing.

Nothing but forty-five minutes to kill before they met up with Willow.

Forty-five minutes, and a very agitated vampire who needed to blow off steam.

Which was why, Buffy supposed, she tackled him without warning. She couldn’t decide if she wanted him to fight her or kiss her, but found herself in the welcomed mercy of his arms either way. Spike caught her with ease, his bumpies bursting through. With a quick twist and some very primitive growls that had her all kinds of horny, he shoved her against the side of the nearest mausoleum and attacked her lips.

There was something so primal, so wild, so wanton, about kissing him like this. When his demon was out to play. She loved playing with him, even if she was coming closer to lighting a match to gunpowder. She stroked his tongue with hers, teased his fangs with soft caresses that elicited whimpers of such passion that she thought at first that she was hurting him. His hands were everywhere, teasing her, bringing her body to life in ways that hadn’t been possible until she knew him. Until she had someone who was hers.

“Christ, Buffy,” he gasped into her mouth. “I need you so much.”

“Spike…”

“I can’t wait much longer, sweetheart. I need to…” He drew his lips from hers and lowered his mouth to her throat, his fangs teasing her skin but not drawing blood. She shivered at the feel of it, wondering who got the worst of this torment. Spike, no doubt. His fangs had wanted her blood for fourteen years, and these last few days had known an endless strain on his patience. “I need to taste you. I need to…god, I need to be inside…I need to make love to you so bloody badly.”

Buffy didn’t know what turned her on more. The fact that he said it, or the fact that he’d called their sex-life an act of lovemaking, rather than the cruder fucking she’d expected.

“Spike…I need to tell you…something…”

He drew away from that, eyes wide. “Sweetheart?”

“I just…here’s the thing.” She released a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you all weekend, ‘cause I wanted you to know I meant it and that I wasn’t just saying it to say it, you know?”

Awe coincided with the rush of realization. “God, Buffy—”

“I love you—” She found herself mauled with hungry kisses before she could finish, and her body rejoiced. “I love you,” she gasped again as his mouth began tracing a wet path down her neck. “And tonight…we can…tonight.”

He growled, face buried between her breasts, but he didn’t say anything.

“After Willow…and Oz…leave.”

He jerked down the front of her jeans and shed the fabric off her left leg so fast it nearly burned. His force knocked her shoe off along with it.

A thrill raced up her spine.

He lost control. I said it, and he lost control.

Her power over him was terrifying at times, but then, he held the same power over her.

They were true equals.

“Spike—”

“Love you,” he replied with soft ferocity, ripping her panties away as he cast her liberated leg over his shoulder. “Gonna show you how much.”

“Tonight—”

“Save tonight for tonight,” he said, nibbling at her clit. “My mouth wants this pussy now.”

Buffy threw her head back and gasped. Spike held her thighs and feasted.

There had never been such a night.