::COSY LITTLE CRYPT FOR TWO:: by spikesdeb

COSY LITTLE CRYPT FOR TWO

CHAPTER ONE

Buffy wandered into Willy’s Bar and demanded a drink of anything that wasn’t demon in origin. Anya was broken after the debacle that should have been her happiest day and Xander was still missing. And what was with Spike and that trashy ho? Trying to make her jealous……….Buffy needed some alternate reality and figured she’d find it in the last place she should be looking. She still had on the Day-Glo green dress that marked her as a bridesmaid from hell and snarled and glared at the other patrons as she’d knocked back shot after shot of JD until the bar had emptied, leaving her alone with the bartender.

JD. That was his drink. Couldn’t she escape from thoughts of him even in her sad and lonely drinking? Willy cringed every time she made her drinking face, thinking it heralded a pissed off Slayer and expensive bar trashing. So far, thankfully, the only casualty appeared to be the nice bottle of bourbon.

“Hey, Willy! C’mere…” Willy slid over to the Slayer who was now rocking unsteadily on her stool.

“Yeah, Slayer. What can I get you?” He prayed she’d had enough.

“Whassat…….whassat say?”

Willy followed her gaze to the notice pinned up behind the bar. He swallowed nervously. No….she wouldn’t…..why would she? He chuckled to himself for his ridiculous mind warp.

“This? Oh, just need a waitress. Keep disappearing from here for some reason. Can’t think why?” Willy smiled his gap-toothed smile until he noted the furrowed brow and squinting eyes trying to focus on the notice. He went cold. Suddenly Buffy lurched off the stool and vaulted the bar, pulling the notice from the wall.

Grinning inanely and almost managing to speak without slurring, she slammed the paper down on the counter.

“Willy! Look no further….consider me in gainful employment.”

Willy groaned.

+++++++++++++

It had been a week since he’d last seen Buffy at the whelp’s wedding. He hoped the demon bird and the boy were getting it on somewhere to celebrate their union, because he sure as hell wasn’t getting any touch. Last skin he’d licked was golden and though he’d locked lips with his wedding date - otherwise known as ‘Miss Get Buffy Jealous’ - he’d been thinking of pink lips rather than scarlet and nearly choked on her studded tongue. Hell, he’d had everything offered up to him on a pale platter but he couldn’t raise the interest never mind the dick. The skanky ho had been a big mistake he’d dumped as soon as he’d left the wedding. She’d left him hate messages. Sweet.

Still there was always alcohol. Alcohol was his friend. He’d spent the past week getting intimately acquainted with the taste of every different brand of scotch he could lay his hands on – which on the Hellmouth was bloody lots of them. But now he was coming up empty. Grabbing his duster and his smokes he headed out to Willy’s.

Striding into the bar, his icy blue gaze raked the interior noting which demons were worth watching, which worth ignoring, which worth beating. Nothing doing tonight in the fight stakes, very poor turnout. Piss poor in fact. Polishing a bar stool it would have to be then. He strode through the room, duster hugging his hard body and flowing behind him as he walked. He took a seat between two no marks, not bothered in the slightest when they quickly downed their drinks and slunk away. He didn’t mind his own company as long as he had his old friend Jack Daniels to talk to every now and then. Speaking of….

“Hey! Little service over here, yeah?” He rapped on the bar top impatiently, eyes swivelling away to check out the far reaches of the room. Tinglies. Slayer tinglies. Here? What the…….

Giving up his initial search he spun back round to grab his drink. He smiled at the girl who’d served him and grabbed the glass, tipped it up, head back……and promptly sprayed it all over the bar as his brain caught up with his eyes.

“Ewwwwwww! You’ve made me all wet…….and stinky! You are so buying me a new shirt, Spike.”

Spike was speechless. The Slayer. Here. Behind the bar. Serving. Alcohol. To him.

Finally managing to work his voice box, he squeaked out, “What’re you doing here, Slayer? This a new ploy, hunt the vamps by selling ‘em beer?”

“Nah, but now you mention it…….hold on……customer.” Buffy wandered up the bar serving a vampire and two Fyarl demons with their many hued drinks, wrinkling her nose as she poured from dusty bottles. Spike watched in amazement as she garnished the yak’s milk and virgin blood cocktail she’d fixed for the Fyarls with a cherry and a paper umbrella, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out as she concentrated. He found himself shaking his head in disbelief as she handed the drinks to the two bemused demons and bounced back towards him.

Was this the same Slayer? The ‘stake up her ass, I’m so depressed keep sharp objects away from me’ Buffy of recent months? She was smiling, joking with the bar patrons as she made her way back to where he sat wide-eyed with amazement. Willy shouted from the back just as she reached Spike’s position.

“Yeah? What?”

The vampire caught the hollered instructions but Buffy didn’t seem to and asked for it to be repeated. She still stood there, head tilted quizzically obviously not hearing him despite the repeat.

“He’s asking you to check on the kittens, pet. Make sure they’re still wriggling, give ‘em some milk. Got a big poker game here later? Might be looking to be dealt in….”

“Oh. Right. And sorry – all the chairs are taken.”

Spike growled. Thoughts of scamming some kitties had piqued his interest a little but being brushed off so easily ticked him off. Did she forget who he was? Bloody hell! Was there nobody left in this damn town who would show him any respect? And whose fault was that?

“You know what, Slayer – sod your bloody kittens. Just give me that bottle and leave me be. Came in looking for some quiet alone time so go and hound some other poor bloke.”

What? Buffy thought back over what she’d said and done. Nope. Still couldn’t pinpoint the thing that had set him off. Truth be told, she’d expected Spike to come in sooner or later – oh come on, you wanted it to be sooner you little slut you – and had nearly convinced herself that when he did she’d totally ignore him because he meant nothing to her. Nothing at all. Nada.

But when he’d slid onto the stool and ordered his drink, something about that velvet smooth voice had her pulse racing and her lips curving into a small smile that she’d tried to hide when she turned round with the full glass. The look on his face when he’d spat the liquor out was priceless. Finally, she’d done something to shock him.

And now she’d managed to upset him without even trying, definitely something she was good at. She was about to continue their tense conversation, do the whole ‘Had a bad day? Wanna talk about it?’ gig when Willy came back through to the bar telling her he’d check the kittens himself and asked her to clear some tables. Reluctantly and without speaking to Spike again as she couldn’t catch his eye, she grabbed a cloth, laid it over her shoulder and went out onto the floor.

Spike knew she’d been trying to get his attention, had been watching her out of the corner of his eyes as he cradled the glass of JD against his chest. He wasn’t giving in though. Time was the Slayer just had to tug on his leash and he’d go all loyal hound on her. Well that was before she’d helped soldier-boy trash his crypt and walked all over his broken heart with her spike heeled boots. Never again. She didn’t want him? Good. Because he didn’t want her either.

Yeah……right……

Attacking the bourbon with a vengeance, Spike was quietly on his way to oblivion. Willy supplied him with a second bottle and nervously licked his lips. He was well aware that he had a mercurial vampire and a mightily powerful Slayer in the same room and he was not immune to the crackling tension between them. He did not want to light that blue touch paper. Thankfully, the Slayer was busying herself clearing tables still and the bar was busy tonight. With a bit of luck, Spike would finish the liquor and slink off home. What he did when he was off the premises didn’t concern Willy in the slightest.

Spike continued filling the glass and draining it, spiralling further down into a dark and evil humour. His unlife was a joke. He couldn’t feed, the chip buggering up his head wouldn’t let him. But if he got that out……….if he got that out what? What would he do, really? He couldn’t resist a wry chuckle. Sod all. That’s what he’d do. Because he’d been tamed by the bloody Slayer! Why did everything come down to the Slayer? He couldn’t seem to keep out of her way even when he tried. She haunted him. Dru had been right. He was covered in her. He closed his eyes and felt tears pricking at the back of them. That was it – time to go, no more drink for him. The soft arsed poet was threatening to come through and his Big Bad credentials were already at an all-time low without showing that face to the wankers who frequented Willy’s.

He debated whether he should go say bye to the Slayer….but he wasn’t talking to her so what would be the point? Looking at her, drinking in the shape of her face and the scent of her body – that would be the point. Love’s bitch alright. No point arguing about it. Why was he sitting there debating when he could be ogling? He swung off the stool and lurched unsteadily to his feet, gripping the counter to keep himself upright. The sound of a tray being dropped and raised voices drew his attention and he focused into the darkened corner where there was a commotion brewing. He recognised Buffy’s dulcet tones shrill with anger and made his way over.

One unlucky demon lay across the table with Buffy’s hand wrapped around his neck, squeezing the air out of him. “Now do you believe me? I told you, put those meaty hands anywhere near my butt and you’ll be sorry………..are you sorry?”

Spike’s snarl drew her attention away from her cowering victim. In a flash of peroxide blond hair, he’d rushed past her and dislodged her grip, pulling the whimpering demon to the vertical and holding him with his feet dangling inches above the floor. “Don’t……… you dare………lay a……fucking finger……on her, mate. You hear me?” Spike’s forehead was ridged, his fangs glinting in the dim lights of the bar. “I’m gonna rip your head off and piss down your neckhole. You’ve messed with the wrong bird, mate – mine!”

Buffy was torn between feeling all girly, having her man defend her and then realising that she just called Spike ‘her man’ albeit in her head, and feeling insulted that the vampire didn’t think she could take care of herself. The stupidity of him! She was the freaking Slayer! And ‘bird’ had better not be an insult. She so wasn’t his either…..

Small yet powerful fists started beating on Spike’s back to get him to let go. He ignored her, continuing to ooze menace and spit venom at his captive audience. Buffy tugged on his hair. He snarled but kept hold of the demon.

“Spike! Let go! I can handle myself – I don’t need your help. LET GO!” She yelled finally, her mouth right by his ear.

“Fucking hell, Slayer, you’ve perforated my eardrum!”

“Well, let him go – I can deal with this. I don’t want you to protect me. I don’t need anybody’s help to fight my battles.”

Watching her stamping her foot and with her hands on her hips, Spike felt cold fury descend upon him. He’d reacted instinctively thinking she was in danger and wanting to protect her. Any normal girl would be happy to have a handsome, resourceful, and strong bloke sort out a wanker who’d pawed at her……..but Buffy? No, not her. Fine then.

“Right, Slayer. God forbid I might want to give you a break, look after you a bit. Sorry to be so rude. I’ll leave you to it.” He threw the demon back onto the table and stalked off, throwing over his shoulder, “You’re welcome to her. She’s nothing special…..”

Buffy gasped. Alright, he’d done what she’d asked but……..a huge part of her was crushed by his words and sort of hoping that he’d stay and beat up the demon anyway. Said demon was cowering wondering what else could go wrong this night and expecting the death blow any minute. How was he to know the waitress was the Slayer – and he only touched her because he’d been dared to. He closed his eyes, silently wondering how he was going to explain this away to the wife when he regenerated tomorrow. He waited…….and waited………After five minutes he opened one eye. The Slayer was gone.

++++++++++++++++++++

Spike stalked back to his crypt cursing himself for not grabbing the bottle of JD off the bar counter on his way out. He vented his fury on a few innocent benches, gravestones, and trash cans. Wasn’t really doing much to satisfy his violent tendencies, but then the only thing that would likely see an end to this one was to see the dozy bint offed once and for all. She made him crazy. He heard the sound of running feet behind him and twirled round, crouched defensively.

“Spike! Wait! I need to speak to you.”

“Piss off.” When he saw it was the Slayer he continued on his way, turning his back on her.

“Spike! Please?”

And there it was, that little wheedling note in her voice that skewered his heart and had him doing exactly what she wanted. ‘Worse than a bloody dog whistle that sound is.’

He stopped, but didn’t turn round, head bowed down and hands balled tight at his sides. Buffy stopped behind him waiting for him to turn, but when he didn’t, she slowly walked round to the front and ducked down so she could look into his lowered eyes. He wouldn’t look at her; she laid a hand on his arm.

“Spike. I’m sorry. I know you were only trying to help but…….I’m the Slayer. Not used to the help really – I mean okay, Scoobies and all but they don’t really help with the violence as such. More book learning and strategy. I usually do the hurty killy thing myself. It’s just….I’m not really good at being taken care of. I’m not big with the helpless girl stuff. Are we alright?”

Spike raised his head a little and looked into her earnest face. Sunshine. That’s what she always reminded him of. The feel of sunshine on his skin that he hadn’t felt for over a hundred years. One look, one little word – and the cold dead heart that lay unbeating in his chest warmed and swelled and almost burst.

“Depends, Slayer. Can’t go round just messing with me. I’ve got feelings, you know. ‘m a real person. Got real emotions.”

“Well technically you’re not a person….”

And he was off. Buffy cursed herself. ‘Stupid Buffy. Stupid literal Buffy!’

She didn’t try to follow him. The way her mouth was working tonight they’d end up fighting to the death over a mispronunciation. Although she did hate to leave things like they were. She hoped they’d come to an understanding and now they were back to square one. And it was her fault.

She genuinely thought she’d done the right thing though, that day when she’d gone to see him in the burnt out ruins of his crypt; well, at the time she did anyway. Now……she wasn’t so sure.

After the horror of Riley finding them in bed together and the demon eggs debacle, she’d finally found the strength to stop using him to make herself feel. It wasn’t real; it was just sex and it was killing her. So why did she feel more dead now that she wasn’t feeling his arms encircling her? Why did she feel numb and aching for his lips to trail their icy kisses along her neck?

And more worryingly, she was beginning to think that when she’d said to him, ‘I can’t love you….’ it was more like ‘won’t.’

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

TBC

CHAPTER TWO

Spike really tried not to do it. Had a whole inner debate and even convinced himself to go to another bar. So here he was on his way to the Fishtank avoiding Willy’s Bar like the plague. After last night’s little contretemps he was not going to put himself in that situation again. It was time he faced facts. No matter what he did, no matter how much he helped her – Buffy would only ever see the demon and never the man. And he was both. Now more than ever he realised that. Sod Angelus and his ‘it was Angelus who did that, I’m good now – I’m Angel’ crap. Angel was Angelus just as much as Angelus was Angel. One and the same; like twins that shared one body instead of two. If that poofter couldn’t work that out for himself, he deserved to brood for eternity. And Buffy was obviously suckered into the same school of thought. Beyond his reach.

Not for the first time Spike thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t been cursed with a soul; he had a hard enough time with the chip in his head and adjusting his lifestyle to that. He still couldn’t get used to cold blood and it had been a bit of hit and miss with the microwave at first. Should really get himself one of those meat thermometers to check it was all human temperature when he’d zapped himself a mug. Yeah, that’d be great.

He stopped his musings and reached for the door handle.

Bloody hell. How had he gotten to Willy’s when the Fishtank was over on the other side of town? Was there a conspiracy? Still……..as he was here….

Maybe it was her night off…..

No. There she was, stupid blond hair gleaming like a beacon as he sauntered towards the bar. He took his seat on the stool without a word, holding Buffy’s gaze from about half way across the room and refusing to blink as he sat down. She looked away and he smiled a small smile of triumph. ‘Forgets who she’s messin’ with….’

It was obvious that she was avoiding him. She wouldn’t even serve him, sending Willy to fill his glass. The bar was packed too, and there was plenty of opportunity for her to be occupied elsewhere. Spike shrugged; didn’t matter to him. Didn’t want to speak to her anyway, just wanted to have a quiet night, maybe shoot some pool, play some poker. And most importantly – get rip-roaring drunk.

Buffy made a show of ignoring him, only glancing across under pretence of checking for waiting customers. He was knocking back shot after shot and seemed to be muttering to himself, waving his hands around as if he was disagreeing with what he was saying. That would be just like him; he had the knack of irritating, even unintentionally, so no doubt he was seriously pissing himself off. She grinned. More and more often, before she’d called a halt to their couplings, she’d found herself analysing him, watching him. Smiling inside when she knew what he was going to do next before he did it. To be honest, that was part of the reason she’d told him it had to end. He was getting too close to her. He made her crazy. She had to stop it before he realised.

And now, here she was again, watching him and feeling all warm when she just knew he would curl his lip at any moment………there! Full on snarl. Buffy shook her head. If he knew she was thinking of him constantly…..well, she just couldn’t let that happen. It was wrong, the two of them. She knew it……..but it always felt so right.

‘Bad Buffy!’

Breathing deeply to compose herself she made her way over to where Spike was sitting, convincing herself that if she could just speak to him, have a normal conversation without either of them slapping, biting, or running off, they might just be able to actually be friends. Or something. Because one thing she was sure of, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life without him being near enough to run to if she had to. She knew she was being selfish, that she should just tell him how she felt. But he’d want more than she could give and right now, she wasn’t capable of putting up much of a fight.

“Hey.”

The muscles in Spike’s jaw moved as he clenched his teeth. Bloody buggerin’ bint wouldn’t even let him drink in peace. He looked up slowly.

“What do you want, Slayer? I’m not here for any trouble, just having a quiet drink and contemplating my navel. Don’t really want to do that thing we do where you bug me and we scream then one of us has to leave. Not tonight, yeah?”

Buffy blinked. She bugged him? The arrogant bastard….ah, the cycle was starting again. Maybe they really shouldn’t have any contact. But she knew she was better than this bickering. Plastering a smile on her face, she started again.

“Spike. I don’t want to fight either. I’m here to work, so why don’t I get you a drink, on the house?”

“Fine. Bottle of JD – full one, mind.”

Right. Snarky as usual. Buffy gritted her teeth and turned to grab the bottle. She ignored Willy’s narrowed eyes as she took the liquor and handed it over to Spike’s outstretched hand.

“Do you want a fresh glass? Some peanuts perhaps? I don’t think we carry spicy wings but I can ask Willy to get some in for you.”

Spike looked at her earnest face. There didn’t seem to be any guile in her eyes, but the Slayer was tricky. Maybe this was a really sick joke and she’d kick him in the head any minute now.

“Pet, what’s all this about? This being nice to Spike gig you’ve got going on. ‘m not complainin’ but it’s not how you usually talk to me. Just doing your job, then? Or is this the last meal of a condemned man or something? ‘Cause if it is, I’d like to order up some Slayer blood and give the wings a miss, thanks.”

“Gah! Why do I bother!” Buffy stalked off, ripping the apron from her waist and slamming the door to the back through which she’d left. Willy eyed the vampire clutching the bottle of Jack and got ready to protect his glassware, as it looked as if the bottle was getting thrown any time now.

“Hey, Spike – you alright there? Got everything you need?”

“Oh piss off, Willy! Don’t know why I’m sitting in your rank hole anyway – and your staff are all……….bitches! Tell you what, bar me – go on! You’ll be doing me a favour. Go on!”

Willy was dumbstruck with fear. The last time he’d tried to bar Spike, the vampire had left him with a black eye and a bite on the leg for his trouble before they’d agreed to disagree and Spike was assured his patronage would always be welcome. So he was reluctant to actually do what he was being asked to do right now.

Willy laughed, nervously. “You’re a funny one, Spike. You know you’ve always got a stool waiting for you here. Take another bottle, on the house. Appreciation for your past patronage.”

Spike stood quickly, the stool falling backwards as he thrust it away from him. “Bloody hell! Right then – gimme that.” He swiped the bottle out of Willy’s hands, adding it to the other one held against his chest. Buffy was just emerging from the back, cheeks pink and eyes suspiciously bright. Spike glared at her before yelling.

“Oi, Slayer! I’m gonna leave you to it, right? So you won’t have to pretend to be bothered just because I’m a customer. Catch you around, unless I’m lucky and I see you first.”

Buffy stood open-mouthed as he swirled round and stalked through the bar’s front door. The last thing she’d done was offer him free food and drink………and he’d just gone off on her, shooting his mouth off for no apparent reason. Well! She wasn’t going to let him have the last word………

For the second night in a row, Willy watched Buffy stride out into the night after Spike. What the hell was going on there? Strike that……he really didn’t want to know.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Spike pulled the cap off one bottle as he walked – well, stomped – off towards his crypt. He did contemplate going to his original destination, but right now he might just be tempted to rip off the head of any petite blondes he came across. And that would set off the chip, give him one hell of a headache, and he’d still have the problem of Buffy bloody Summers after he’d slept the headache off. No. Better he spent some alone time at his crypt and get better acquainted with the two Jacks he carried. He stopped to take a good swig out of the uncapped bottle and then he heard the dreaded footsteps. He almost bit the lip off the bottle when he found himself snarling.

No. Not happening again. He increased the pace panicking a little when the footsteps behind him did likewise. Maybe it wasn’t the Slayer. Maybe it was just somebody on their way home, going his way. Yeah. And maybe he was the tooth fairy……

Sod it. He stopped and whirled round, crossing his arms as he waited for her to catch up. Buffy’s footsteps slowed as she drew near, her steps uncertain as she took in his seriously angry countenance where he stood bathed in the glow of the streetlamp. The soft light cast shadows down that accentuated the angular beauty of his face. Her breath hitched in her throat. He was stunning – all monochrome, black and white perfection. She took a few steps nearer so that she was within the circle of the lamplight.

“Buffy, if you keep following me, people are gonna talk.”

“Well, if you quit stalking me then ducking out, I wouldn’t have to!”

“Stalking you! Me stalking you? What the …. are you on crack or something? You took a job in my soddin’ local – stands to reason I’m gonna be there because it’s MY SODDIN’ LOCAL!” Spike was standing inches away from her, a bottle of bourbon in each hand, his brow furrowed with anger. “You, Buffy, are stalking me! And after you told me you didn’t want to see me. Well, love, you might do better not seeing me if you didn’t pull pints at the one pub I’m bound to go into.”

Buffy knew he was right, which incensed her even more. Hell, if she was honest she’d taken the job so that she had every chance of seeing him again. But he couldn’t know that and he damned well wasn’t going to get her to admit anything of the sort.

“But…….but……….you knew I’d be there tonight and you still came in. I’d call that stalking!”

“Wanted a drink, Willy’s is the nearest………sod it! I’m not bloody well explaining myself to you, Slayer! It’s a demon bar, I’m a demon – end of story. Now piss off home and stop following me.”

“I wanted to talk to you about before and……….HEY! Don’t turn your back on me when I’m talking to you!” Buffy grabbed at his shoulder as he walked away, jerking his arm so that the bottle he held clattered against the wall and broke spraying them both in bourbon.

An enraged vampire snarled his anger and turned round, Buffy backing away at the venom in his eyes. Her legs started shaking until she remembered that she was the Slayer and could dust him in a heartbeat. Well, theoretically. Somehow this vampire and her killing him were unmixy in the extreme.

“Get your hands off me! And look – you owe me a bottle of JD, Slayer.”

“But you got it for nothing!”

“Yeah, but I had to put up with you and your insults to get it. You owe me. Cough up the dough.”

“Oh this is pointless. Remind me not to talk to you ever again. You make me crazy!”

Buffy turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving Spike dumbfounded and reeking of alcohol. This was too much. Twice now he’d sought solace in a nice quiet drink and been forced to leave Willy’s, and twice she’d followed him and had him boiling with rage. He made her crazy? She should be inside his skin and see how she coped with the crap she came out with. Not that that made any sense. Bugger.

Spike stretched out his neck. He was not going to let her get away with this. Face set in angry lines he pounded off after her, tossing the remaining bottle onto the grass for later collection. Buffy was walking quickly, her entire stance showing her barely restrained anger. Spike used his vampire speed to dash in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. She looked down at the floor.

“Move out of my way Spike or I swear…”

“What, Slayer? What will you do?”

“I’ll….I’ll……..just move.” Her shoulders dropped. She was tired of this, tired of fighting him and fighting her own feelings at the same time. She was exhausted with the effort of not caring about him. “Please.”

The last word was whispered. And was that a sob she stifled?

“Slayer? Are you alright?” No reply. He stepped towards her, a hesitant hand reaching for her chin and raising her eyes to see tears swimming in their hazel depths.

“Buffy? Love?” Spike’s other hand came up to cup her face and he rubbed his thumbs soothingly across her cheeks. Much as he’d wanted to kill her mere minutes ago, he knew it was only bravado manufactured by his ego. He’d no more hurt her than stake himself, and seeing her so distressed felt like he was being stabbed by a thousand knives.

“Hey now; don’t cry. You know we always do this. Doesn’t mean a thing, just us lettin’ off steam. Don’t mean to beef at you, love.”

Buffy lurched forwards and buried her head in his chest, sobbing and muttering incoherently even to his enhanced hearing. He just let her cry it out, patting her back and stroking her hair, unable to resist lifting the silken strands and inhaling her scent. After a few minutes she calmed enough to push herself slightly away, still held within his embrace but her face not resting against his sodden chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need. Don’t like seeing you cry, Buffy. Did I do that?”

“No, it’s not you. Well, it is, but not how you think. Gah! I don’t know, I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”

Spike smiled and laughed softly. “Yeah, love. Join the club. You do something to my synapses, make me all ga-ga.”

Buffy chuckled. They were a right pair. A perfect match.

She breathed in sharply. She couldn’t do this………could she? All thoughts disappeared as she felt Spike shift slightly, the arms that were loosely wrapped around her back tightening to bring her flush against him, one hand travelling up her spine leaving a trail of goose bumps along the surface before it wrapped loosely in her hair. She blinked rapidly, tipping her head up, knowing that she’d see the face that haunted her dreams moving ever closer as his lips sought hers. She ought to fight it, duck out of his arms and run. But she didn’t want to.

Her lips parted slightly in anticipation of the soft whisper of his kiss, her flesh tingling as she felt his cool breath and smelled the heady mix of bourbon and cigarettes laced with pure Spike. She felt herself melting further into his embrace, her own hands wrapping around him and reaching up to tug on the platinum curls that responded to her fingers’ caress by loosening and wrapping around her fingertips. She loved his hair where it reverted to his natural curls. The hand that pressed at her lower back skimmed further down, cupping the globe of her ass and pulling her groin into contact with his obvious erection. Spike swallowed the moan that escaped her mouth, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with her own as the kiss deepened. Buffy’s hands were roaming up and down his back now, sliding over the leather of his duster as she grabbed him closer. She was grinding against him, her heat seeping through her jeans and burning him where they gyrated together.

By wordless agreement, Buffy pushed Spike onto his back, straddling him where he landed, their lips never losing contact. She reached between them and untucked his shirt, eager fingers seeking out the rock hard stomach and rippling muscles that led the way up to his chest. Her hand skated across his skin, a finger brushing a nipple to hardness and eliciting a sharp hiss from him when she tugged at it between thumb and forefinger. He growled against her mouth and Buffy felt the familiar tingle of an approaching orgasm. God knows why he had this effect on her. She was fully clothed and just kissing him and she was already limp with desire.

His cool hand cupped her breast through her shirt and she arched into him, her lips leaving his eventually as she gasped for air. Her eyes were closed, even white teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as she lost herself in the ecstasy of his touch. Instinctively, she rotated her hips where she straddled him, the seam of her jeans hitting her clit on every downward thrust. Spike almost swallowed his tongue as she reached for his free hand to cup her other breast, her own hands held over his and pushing him to stroke her as she moved more quickly.

Christ! She was bringing herself off, and using him to do it. That was so hot!

Fuck! He felt himself grow ever harder with her movements and desperately tried to buck her off before he spilled his load. She was too strong, lost in the moment and intent on her goal. Spike gave in to the inevitable and crushed her breasts to the point of pleasure pain, tweaking her nipples to hardened peaks and meeting her downward movement with an upward thrust of his own. The friction of his cock against the stiff denim of his jeans was building up to an explosive ejaculation that he would rather have spent inside her but the Slayer was too far gone to stop now. With a final thrust, she arched her back, screaming his name and digging her nails into the backs of his hands where they still caressed her breasts. Spike felt the flood of moisture that accompanied her orgasm, the scent wafting up to his flared nostrils and sending him over the edge to come in his pants like a useless teenager. He grunted his pleasure, jerking spasmodically against her sensitive mound. She responded with little mewls of pleasure as the movement against her engorged clit signalled a further fluttering in her passage.

She panted, totally spent and satiated, contentment washing over her. Suddenly limp, she fell forwards to rest against him, smug smile creeping onto her face. “Mmmmmm,” she murmured against his throat. “I like that kind of fighting, Spike.”

He closed his eyes. Opened them again. No, she was still here – wasn’t a dream. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling at her neck and kissing her hair. He was scared to speak, not wanting to break the moment, but they were lying on the grass in full view of any passers-by and they had to move.

“Buffy, love. Shall we move this to my crypt? ‘s not as it was, but I got me another bed……..we could……”

There. That did it. Mention of the word bed and Buffy stiffened in his arms and pushed herself upright. What had she done? Again? She got to her feet, wobbling on legs that wouldn’t obey her. “This never happened! I told you – I can’t do this. I have to go…….I’m sorry…I….this is over….”

She raced off, leaving him lying in a wet heap on the floor, jeans soaked through at the crotch by their mingled spendings. He watched her go and smiled. Yeah…….it was over. Right.

TBC

CHAPTER THREE

Buffy glanced anxiously at the door again then back to her watch. She’d been on edge for the past half hour, not even knowing if she did or didn’t want him to come in. She’d hardly slept a wink last night, playing over and over again in her head the fight then the heated make-out session. She blushed, the memory of her wanton behaviour – and out in the open too! – both horrifying and tantalising in equal measure. The door banged open and her head shot up. It wasn’t him. She was disappointed.

‘God Buffy! Contrary much? Don’t want to see Spike, then you jump his bones and wait for him like he’s your date or something?’

She was aware she was acting crazy, but like she’d told him – he made her that way. She nodded at Willy when he waved her through to the back for supplies, returning a few minutes later with a keg of beer and couple of bottles of O-neg that she put up on the optics. She shivered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Slowly, she turned round, her heart pounding.

Nervously licking her lips she moved towards where he sat, eyes naked with emotion and fixed on her hungrily. She smoothed down her apron, wiping her hands before resting them on the bar counter. What to say…..she really didn’t know. Seemed like Spike was similarly tongue-tied, because he just fidgeted with a paper napkin, shredding it between nervous fingers to become soggy confetti. Wordlessly, Buffy grabbed a glass and filled it with bourbon, pushing it towards him. Spike took it, raised it to toast her, and drained it, still silent.

Buffy busied herself wiping down the bar counter, tidying the bottles… basically doing anything but start a conversation between them. The tension between them was palpable and drawing nervous glances from Willy and the anxious demons lining the bar. Something had to give. She took up her place again directly in front of Spike and placed her hands flat against the wooden bar top.

Spike pushed the double chocolate chip muffin with his index finger to sit squarely between her splayed fingers. He grinned to himself; she wouldn’t be able to resist, the girl was such a chocolate whore.

“What’s this?” Buffy tilted her head in perfect imitation of his.

“What’s it look like, love? ‘s a muffin.”

“Uh huh, I can see that with my Buffy eyes…..why?”

Spike snagged the bottle of JD, suddenly nervous at the poncey gesture. “You’re too thin. Need feeding up, can’t fight the nasties if you’re fainting from hunger now, can you? I never see you eat, and I doubt you’ll like the grub here. Most of it’s still movin’.”

Buffy felt a hot flush suffuse her neck and throat. He’d brought food for her? And chocolate? He knew she loved chocolate. Of course he did; it was a way to get into her pants. Like he needed to give her a bribe……..But his face was so devoid of guile, his eyes so full of his feelings for her that, deny their existence as she may, she couldn’t ignore them. A clump of ice deep inside of her aching heart melted.

Shyly, she inched her fingers towards the muffin that was so much more than chocolaty goodness. It lay between them, a symbol of something that she couldn’t risk thinking about. She felt the moist bun yield beneath her fingers, digging into the sweet pastry and picking off a chocolate chip. She raised fluttering eyes to meet his, startled by their icy blue intensity, her chocolate covered fingers pausing on their way to her mouth. On a whim, she changed direction and proffered up the sticky prize to Spike’s parted lips. His eyes never left hers, the blue deepening to stormy grey as he flicked his tongue out, wrapping around her finger and the nugget of chocolate and sucking them into his mouth. Buffy’s own lips parted in a gasp of pleasure, the bar and the assortment of demons disappearing as she focused entirely on the heady sensation of his tongue and mouth suckling at her sensitive digit. Her legs shook with the effort to remain upright, breathing ragged and shallow as she closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the rasp of his tongue against her flesh. She jumped when he nipped at her finger.

“Hey!”

Spike grinned, head tilted and eyes sparkling with mirth. “Sorry, love. Got a bit ……carried away….” He quirked his scarred eyebrow and poked his tongue between his teeth. Buffy couldn’t help but laugh.

This was nice. This easy chatter between them. After last night, she couldn’t really pretend she felt nothing for him. Even if it was only blinding lust. But she was scared that it was more than that. She moved off to serve some customers, eyes swivelling to watch Spike as he steadily made headway with the bottle of Jack Daniels while keeping an eye on her treat. He wasn’t drinking angrily tonight. He looked relaxed, happy almost. She thought back to the last time he’d sat and chatted with her over a glass of bourbon. That night in his crypt when she’d wandered in, not knowing where else to go to find somebody who would understand her. And he did. Understand her. He was the only one. Even now when her friends and sister knew she’d been ripped from heaven, they didn’t know how that affected her. She was dealing better with it, but every morning when she opened her eyes, she mourned what she’d lost. Hid it from them to spare them. And the only one she could really be herself with was Spike.

Silently willing her customers to go away, she quickly filled their drink orders and sped away from the counter before it could fill up again. She almost cried when she reached Spike’s stool – he was gone! She craned her neck, trying to find him, pouting when she couldn’t see him anywhere. The cool breath on the back of her neck startled her. “Lookin’ for someone, pet?”

Buffy spun round, finding herself backed up against the counter, Spike’s arms braced on either side of her. His lips were tantalisingly close, moist from the tongue that flicked along them. She stared as he caught his full lower lip between his teeth, aching to taste him but unable to move, frozen by the years of indoctrination in the ‘all vampires are evil’ school of thought. Spike watched her eyes, noting the struggle. Almost. He almost had her.

Slow, don’t wanna hurt the girl………….

He dipped his head, kissing her softly, a brief whisper of lips that was gone before she knew it. Buffy blinked, feeling the whoosh of air as he whipped away from her. She cursed her indecision.

Spike was sitting by the bar again filling his glass. He smiled as she turned back to him, throat and cheeks flushed, heart going pitter patter. It had killed him to draw back from her, especially with the scent of her wafting up his nostrils, but he was playing this game by different rules. The demon had tried to win the girl and failed; now it was the poet’s turn.

Buffy swallowed, mouth working soundlessly as she fought to make some sense of the thoughts whizzing around in her head. Her dilemma was solved when Willy hollered at her to quit goofing around with the customers and go clear some tables. As she scampered off she caught Spike’s chuckle of amusement – and frowned when the urge she got was to kiss him senseless instead of the usual one to stick a sharp wooden stick deep into his chest.

Buffy worked hard, clearing, washing down tables, collecting and delivering drinks. She was doing well for tips too, although half of the money was magical and would disappear before the morning. Fool’s gold. All the while she worked, she could feel the heat of his blue eyes following her every move. It felt good, somebody watching her back. Each time she returned to the bar for a drink order he managed to touch her, just briefly, a brush of his fingers across her arm, gently lifting her hair to tuck it behind her ear, the whisper of his fingers stroking her cheek. Seriously in danger of passing out from sensory overload, Buffy could do nothing but look at him through huge eyes, incapable of putting into words what she was feeling. The final time she came back for drinks, Spike eyed the clock and spoke softly. “What time d’you get off, love? I’ll walk you home, yeah? Don’t want any big bad getting a nibble of you. Maybe we could take a trip through the cemetery on the way, deplete the sorry vampire population some more?”

Buffy chuckled. Last night she’d been pissed at him for trying to save her from a demon making friendly with her butt; tonight he wanted to make sure she got home safe. Funny; tonight she wasn’t pissed at him at all, found herself nodding and saying she’d like that. Was looking forward to it in fact.

Amazing what a night spent tossing and turning and craving a cool, hard body would do to a girl.

+++++++++++++

The two blondes left a bewildered bar owner staring after them when they wandered out into the night. He’d been open-mouthed when Buffy stashed her apron and turned to put her arms into the coat Spike held up for her, thanking him in a little girl voice. He was astounded when the Slayer linked her arm through Spike’s, chattering and smiling at him as they left side by side. Willy reached for the half-full bottle of bourbon on the counter and downed a healthy swig, hand shaking the bottle against his teeth. Whatever was going on, he was terrified….

The linked arms became hand-holding a little further along the path, Buffy so giddy and happy that she couldn’t care less who saw her. The fact that the Scoobies were all wrapped up in their own lives and wouldn’t be venturing anywhere near where she was did flash across her mind when she first decided to go with her instincts…..Spike didn’t care about anything. All that he knew was that he was walking through Sunnydale holding hands with the woman he loved – no, adored – and she wasn’t slinking off with him into the shadows, was laughing and giggling with him for anyone to see.

They met a couple of vamps who stupidly decided that they were tasty morsels, but other than that, the night was uneventful until they found themselves standing in front of Spike’s crypt, both of them shuffling nervously as the silence stretched between them. Buffy eyed her feet, scuffing her toes on the stone step. The low rumble of Spike’s voice sent shivers down her spine and she found it very difficult to answer in the negative.

“Fancy a nightcap pet? Got some of that juice you like…”

“No…..I..I don’t think so, Spike. Not tonight. Dawn’s expecting me. I’d better get home.”

Disappointed, but not letting it show, Spike smiled at her. Dare he risk it? He leaned in to her, cupping her cheeks and raising her head so that he looked into her eyes. “Alright. But you be careful, yeah? Don’t go getting bitten……..except by me.”

The kiss was urgent yet not intrusive, his tongue swirling across her lips and sliding inside as she gasped against his mouth, eagerly sucking his tongue inside and nibbling lightly. Her hips moved forward to meet his, her hands coming to rest on his butt as she ground against him. Fast. This was all moving too fast………..

Gasping, Buffy moved back and away from him, panting for breath.

“Sorry……I’m…….I shouldn’t have…..Spike……I’m…..I have to go……”

Spike wanted to stop her, wanted to sweep her up in his arms and kick down the door, throw her to the floor and fuck her senseless. But he’d done that already. He wanted more now. He could wait.

Buffy turned to run but was stopped by his hand on her arm.

“Be careful, Buffy. And I’ll see you tomorrow……….”

God, she hoped so. With leaden legs, she stumbled away from him, fighting the urge to run back with every step she took.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Every night she waited for him anxiously, her hands polishing glasses over and over until she sensed his approach and quickly checked her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. By the time his butt hit the stool she already had a full glass of bourbon waiting for him, her smile filling his vision as she greeted him.

“Hey. You’re late tonight. Thought you weren’t coming.”

“Love, I’ve been here every night for the past five weeks. An’ I’m not late…….well not much. Gotta wait for the sun to set before I can toddle, Buffy, and I did have to take a detour.”

“Why, what happened. You didn’t get into any trouble did you?” Buffy’s eyes flitted over him checking for signs of battle.

“Well, caught a nasty scratch off these buggers.”

A dozen white roses appeared on the counter tied with a simple white satin ribbon. He pushed them towards her.

“For me? Spike, you shouldn’t have!” She was delighted, grabbing the bouquet and searching about for something to put water in. They ended up in an ice bucket, proudly displayed on the back shelf. Spring in her step, she set about her duties, returning frequently to primp the flowers and make sure Spike’s glass was full. He almost burst with happiness when her hand lingered as she passed the glass over to him, her fingers tightening around his hand. He smiled, head bowed over his drink. Spike couldn’t remember ever feeling this contented. Buffy had started to spend a few hours in his crypt with him after their nightly patrol and it was a completely different relationship they had now. She was relaxed and happy in his company, content to sit and rib him gently about ‘Passions’ and his obsession with Monty Python films. He gave back as good as he got, ridiculing her interest in makeover shows and the way she’d sob at the weepy movies. It was a standing joke between them that he’d cried first while watching ‘Love Story’ – although he’d deny it until he was dust!

The poet was puffed up with pride and pleasure, embracing every courtly gesture, every soft and gentle touch of lips or hands. And Buffy was happy. He could see her filling out, her rosy cheeks replacing the pallor of recent months and the shadows disappearing from beneath her eyes. He’d done that. Spike. William. She laughed more than frowned now, and he was proud beyond telling. He’d earwigged on a Scooby meeting a couple of days ago. They hadn’t noticed him hanging around and were talking freely, chiefly about how perky Buffy seemed these days.

“Yeah, I was worried about her at first, working at Willy’s – but it really seems to agree with her. She’s smiling all the time now, singing in the shower. What do you think Dawnie? She’s eating more too, isn’t she?”

“She is. She even ate that concoction you made the other night. Honestly, Xander – it was so gross!”

“What? It was ………experimental cooking. I followed the recipe……….”

“What in? The Cookbook from Hell? Bleaaargh!”

“You should have sent for the man, Wills. A man’s job is to eat what the woman cooks. And stop with the glare – you cook, I swallow.” Xander grinned at his oldest friend. Buffy’s mood was infectious, partly due to the resulting lessening of guilt at having dragged her from heaven. All of the Scoobies were happy these days. Him too. Mostly. Until he realised what he’d lost when he’d left his beautiful girl all decked out in white and nowhere to go. “So the Buffster’s all keyed up? Haven’t seen much of her…….but then I’ve been doing the wallowing in self-pity thing. Good to know somebody’s happy.”

Rolling his eyes, Spike had wandered off then, incapable of listening to another ‘poor me’ rant from the sorry sod who’d left Anya at the altar. But at least he knew that Buffy wasn’t putting on an act for him. He’d grinned all the way home through the sewers.

And now she was proudly showing off her flowers to her co-workers and shooting him shy glances when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Heaven. He must be in heaven.

Buffy eagerly threw her apron underneath the counter and grabbed her roses, sailing out and cheerily shouting ‘night’ to Willy. He’d gotten over his initial shock at the increasing friendliness between the Slayer and the biggest, baddest vampire in town and was now capitalising on their relationship by quietly advertising by word of mouth. Sooner or later he figured there was going to be a meltdown, was counting on it, in fact. Business was up 30% on the strength of the impending doom. And to think he didn’t want to give her the job……..

+++++++++++++++++

A nest of vamps was dusted quickly, Buffy stashing her flowers safely before slaying with a passion missing from her fights since she’d returned from heaven. Spike watched her, on alert to give her a hand but not needing to do so, delighting in the fluid movements and her obvious enjoyment in her calling. She was a vision, whirling in the moonlight, hair loose and wildly tangled and surrounded by the cascading dust of ex-vampires.

Unable to stop himself, Spike rushed towards her, grabbing her up and spinning her round, his arms around her wrapped around her back and his head buried between her breasts. He inhaled her scent, cock hardening instantly. Buffy laughed, head back, completely at ease with the world for the first time in ages, arms outstretched to the sky as she enjoyed the moment.

They both became aware of the change in mood as she slid down his body, his hands caressing her back, her shoulders, before fisting in her hair. They were breathing into each other’s mouths – one breathing out of necessity, one from habit. Buffy’s pulse was racing; she’d felt this moment building and was incapable of stopping her body’s response.

More importantly, she didn’t want to.

Spike whispered against her lips. “You comin’ in, pet?”

Buffy nodded, boy was she! Spike stifled a surprised yelp when she kicked open the door and pushed him through the opening to land in a heap on the floor. His body reacted, remembering the last time she’d been astride him. Delicious pressure built at his groin, his cock straining to be let free of the restrictive denim. Eagerly, he reached for her, groaning when she jumped up and wandered over to the refrigerator leaving him lying desperate and unfulfilled on the cold stone floor. He watched her warily, unsure what was going on and expecting her to zoom out of the front door any minute.

“You got any juice? All that’s in here is beer and you know how un-mixy I am with alcohol. Oh, never mind – found one. Come sit with me?”

Spike slowly drew himself up off the floor, puzzled and increasingly amused by her actions. Buffy was seated in front of the tv, back resting against his easy chair, and flicking through the channels. Wordlessly, he walked towards her, taking the proffered bottle of beer and the tv remote and settling into his seat. Buffy leaned back against him, his legs apart with her in the middle, hair cascading across his lap.

“Stroke my hair, Spike. I love it when you stroke my hair.”

This was new. He’d stroked her hair, sure – but never by request, more him seeing how far he could go before she freaked. But she liked it? He’d never, ever stop…

Buffy sighed; she was dog-tired but Spike’s fingers were doing delicious things to her scalp, her neck, her body in general. She shivered….

“Cold, love?” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her, and in that instant, Buffy’s world shrank to the two of them, the moment, the feeling of his cool arms surrounding her and keeping her safe. She put down the juice and turned in his arms, kneeling up so that her face was level with his.

“No, Spike. I’m not cold, far from it. Kiss me.”

Slowly, Spike narrowed the distance between them, softly brushing her lips with his, tongue ghosting over the sensitive flesh as his hands cupped her face reverently. He closed his eyes, willing her to feel his love, to know deep in her gut that what he felt was real. Buffy’s fingers caressed the back of his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss as she felt the final barrier erected by years of propaganda melting away. It might be true of other vampires, the whole “evil, will kill you as soon as look at you” label – but this vampire was unique. And he was truly hers.

As she was his.

There; she’d admitted it to herself. If she could just admit it to him they had a good chance of making it work……

TBC

CHAPTER FOUR

Buffy broke the kiss reluctantly, breathing definitely becoming an issue. Clear blue eyes gazed at her flushed face, eyes full of adoration. She almost ignited with the passion blazing in their depths. Why hadn’t she seen this before? During the whole time they’d been having sex – because there was no doubt about it, Buffy’s participation in their earlier couplings wasn’t any deeper than that – she’d avoided looking at him. Even when her eyes were on him, she’d been thinking of something else. Anything else to hide the fact that the place she ached to be was right where she was. In his arms, and in his bed.

But with her walls crumbling, she could drink in the sight of him, the way his pupils dilated and the blue of his eyes became almost violet as his ardour increased. She took the time to capture every nuance of his face and commit it to memory, the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the way they led down to his full lips, pink from his blunt teeth nibbling on them nervously. She watched his nostrils flare as he drew in unneeded air, feeling the flood of moisture between her thighs as his lids lowered and his tongue moistened his lips. She knew he could smell how much she wanted him, his sensitive vampire nose picking up the heady scent of her arousal and the knowledge set off more tingles between her legs. Buffy reached out a finger and ran it along his even brow, lingering on the scarred eyebrow and reminding herself to ask him how he got it. She liked it. She wanted to lick it. Later. Stroking down, she felt the swell of his cheek and moved onwards to rub softly over his lips which parted, eagerly awaiting her ministrations. The finger was withdrawn and replaced with her tongue and mouth, tracing the same path with moist kisses to culminate in her claiming his lips again. Spike growled, the sound hitting her right in the solar plexus and making her gasp for breath.

“Did I ever tell you I love your sexy growl?”

Spike’s eyes darkened to an unbelievable shade of blue, his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain control. Little minx. She had no idea how close she was to being stripped naked and shagged into the stone floor, gentle poet be damned.

“No love, don’t think you did. But feel free….”

Buffy peppered him with little kisses and nips, all over his face, his neck, catching his earlobe between her sharp little teeth and nibbling before letting it slip from between her lips with a soft pop. Her warm breath stirred his platinum curls, released from their usual gelled condition by her roving fingers. “I love your sexy growl”. The husky whisper was his undoing. He surged to his feet, grabbing her to him as he rose and wrapping her legs to lock round his waist. He strode towards the opening to the downstairs cavern and jumped through, air rushing past them, Buffy’s head on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his back to hold him to her. He hit the ground with a thud, striding away to the bed as he landed. The devastation from the grenades after soldier boy’s visit was still apparent but he’d tried to clean it up, hanging tapestries on the walls to hide the burn marks and covering the floor with rugs. The bed was new, the covers too, and the soft golden shade complemented her hair as it spread out beneath her where he’d laid her, leaving her momentarily to light the candles scattered around the room.

They were both fully clothed and horny as hell, but there was something different in the air affecting the way they were with each other. Buffy leaned up on her elbows watching the way he moved, gracefully, sparingly, each stretch of his limbs precise and with minimum effort. His back was outlined by the tight black tee he wore and she thanked the powers that be that he’d ignored every fashion dictate since the eighties and stuck with his own particular style. Because it suited him. Made him unique - apart from the copy cat look of a certain Mr Idol. She’d ridiculed his hair so many times when she’d really wanted to tug at its gelled perfection and allow the curls she could see straining to be free of the sticky product set loose. The colour was just right too, the pale sheen setting off his equally pallid features and highlighting the black eyebrows and full, pink lips. And then there were his eyes. God. She could write poetry about his eyes.

She chuckled to herself. One thing about her, when she decided to go for it, she really went for it wholeheartedly. Where were these thoughts coming from? Anybody would think she’d spent years staring at Spike’s obvious attributes and committing them to memory so that she could recall his beauty in the cold, empty hours of the morning while she lay, alone and aching, in her bed. Oh. Well, yeah. They’d be right.

Spike turned back, the candles all lit now and shining behind him to outline him in a halo-like soft glow. She couldn’t stifle the gasp that tumbled from her lips. Spike smirked. “What’s so funny, love?”

“Oh, nothing. Just kicking myself. Thinking of all the times I could have been here with you instead of watching everybody else be happy. I’ve been so stupid….”

Was he hearing her right? Was this actually Buffy admitting she felt something for him? Okay, not in so many words but she couldn’t mean anything else.

His eyes widened when she patted the bed beside her and shifted over to make room. “Come here.”

His feet obeyed before his mind told them to, his hand straying to the fastenings of his jeans as he walked. Buffy stared, spellbound, as his fingers popped each button until a sliver of pale skin shone through the open fly. She moistened her lips. Her pulse raced even faster in anticipation when the bed dipped with his weight where he knelt. She heard the thud as his boots hit the floor, and without conscious thought, her own boots were removed by her shaking hands to tumble off the bed. With one hand gripping the neck of his tee, Spike yanked it off to reveal his sculpted chest and abdomen, his pink nipples hardened to biteable peaks and just at mouth level as he knelt besides her.

Trembling with barely suppressed desire she reached for him, her small hands stroking the firm planes of his chest, his stomach, and snaking down to dip below the open waistband of his jeans. She swept her eyes up to watch his face as he closed his eyes in ecstasy, sucking on his bottom lip and letting out a small moan of pleasure. Her fingers tugged at the coarse curls hidden by the denim, searching for and finding his stiffening cock and circling it at its base with a firm grip. She stroked him, once, twice, the guttural moans that emanated from his mouth proof positive that he was lost in the moment. Still stroking him slowly, she leant forwards to lick and bite at his nipples, tongue circling one then the other, delighted with the response she got from him more than evident from the further hardening of his jutting member.

Spike gripped her hair and pulled back her head so that she was looking up and directly into fathomless blue eyes, stormy with passion. “Lie down,” he commanded, and she obeyed without thought, eager to feel his weight on her. She heard the swish of heavy denim when his jeans were dragged down his legs and off to leave him standing naked in the flickering candlelight. Beads of sweat speckled her skin as her body responded to him, her throat and shoulders flushed with her heated blood where it raced through her system. Firm, cool hands set to opening the buttons on her shirt; carefully at first, but suddenly pulling hard to part the garment, buttons popping and rolling away across the floor. His hand caressed her stomach and up to cup a lace-clad breast rolling her nipple between finger and thumb to tingling intensity. She was on fire.

Buffy lifted her hips to ease the removal of her unwanted trousers, eager to join him in his unabashed nudity. Cool fingers tapped up her legs, pushing her knees apart to come to rest with his thumb pressing the damp gusset of her panties along her slit and slowly circling her clit. Spike flicked at the front clasp of her bra which popped open immediately, falling to her sides and leaving her breasts uncovered to his hungry gaze. He bent his head to take one nipple between his teeth, chewing gently and rolling the nubbin with his tongue, moving his free hand to pay attention to her other breast while continuing his assault on her pussy.

Buffy’s breathing was speeding up as the sensations of his teeth, his tongue, his fingers, all centred and focused on her sex. She was moaning, eyes closed, incoherent sounds and pleas for satisfaction. Spike smiled against her breast as he snagged her panties to one side and slid two fingers inside her wet passage. She arched off the bed, the stimulation almost too much for her, her heart-rate rocketing and her hands grabbing for him frantically. Spike relented, releasing the nipple he was teasing with his teeth and moving up her body, brushing her hair from her face before capturing her lips with a searing kiss, tongues and teeth clashing as they fought for dominance. His cock pressed into her hip so she shifted to seat him fully between her open legs. Spike slipped his fingers free and ripped the tiny scrap of lace that passed for her knickers from her body then moved to press his throbbing length at her opening. Buffy’s eyelids were fluttering, and she was scrabbling at his back, fingernails digging in as she desperately tried to get him to enter her.

“Please, Spike……..please.”

He thrust inside her, filling her entirely, the warm heat threatening to have him coming before he could move again, his lips moving away from her mouth to trail along her cheek and down the side of her neck. He whispered against her skin - her name, his love, the raw things he wanted to do to her. His voice was stroking every erogenous zone she had, and she was rapidly racing to a bone-melting orgasm. Spike started to move slowly, withdrawing his cock almost fully before sliding back home, sensing that she was near to the edge and wanting to draw it out for her, make it good. Buffy locked her ankles behind his back, thrusting up to meet him as he increased the speed slightly and begging him for something, anything…..she didn’t know what she wanted but she knew she wanted it. She wasn’t making any sense, her head simply processing the sensation of his body with hers and nothing more.

Spike was in trouble; the combined assault of Buffy’s scent, her fingernails drawing blood on his back, her little nips at his lips and the way she was moaning and begging him, saying his name over and over like a prayer were seriously undermining the last shred of control he had over the demon. He’d played nice for weeks letting the softer side of Spike’s psyche come to the fore while he wooed the girl but now, with her lying prone beneath him and begging him to….. whoa! Begging him to bite her? She was actually saying the words………

So yeah, in trouble.

He shook off the demon, increased momentum with his thrusts and clutched at her hip hard enough to leave bruising finger marks – but try as he might he couldn’t shut out the little cries of ‘bite me’ that she was whimpering. He found himself nuzzling at her neck, the pounding of her blood through her veins sounding loud in his ears and calling to him. His primal urges were getting harder to control. Brow ridging and fangs lengthening, he gave in, Buffy’s last whimper swallowed by her cry of ecstasy as he pierced the skin of her throat gulping down the crimson nectar that washed over his tongue. Buffy started to shudder, screaming his name, her hips bucking as the dual penetration of fangs and cock set off the most powerful climax she’d ever experienced to pulse through her body. Her pussy gripped him tight and his ejaculation was seconds behind her orgasm leaving him satiated and falling forward to lay heavy on her, his fangs still embedded in her throat. Slowly, he withdrew them licking and nuzzling at the marks he’d left, sealing the puncture wounds and adrift in a haze of vampiric pleasure.

Buffy had begged him to bite her, had craved the feel of his fangs in her flesh. His bite had made her come. Nothing could be better than this. He continued licking at her flesh, cleaning up the last remnants of her delicious blood, and murmuring his love for her against her neck.

Buffy’s eyes opened with a start. Panic. Huge panic. She struggled to move with Spike’s dead weight on top of her, his cock still buried deep inside her and his fingers twined in her hair. And his tongue……what was he doing? Oh god, he’d bitten her. She’d asked him to…..oh god………

Buffy shoved at his shoulders, wriggling to get away. “Off, Spike. Get off me!” Finally getting leverage she pushed hard, Spike tumbling to the floor in a heap of confused limbs. He sat up, hair in disarray, face masked with hurt and perplexed questions.

“Buffy…….” He didn’t know what to say, what had caused her to change so quickly. Whatever it was, she was up and grabbing at her clothes and yep…….up the ladder to the crypt. The slam of the door confirmed that she was gone.

Deja bloody vu.

Kicking at the single boot she’d left behind like some twisted Cinderella he took his anger and frustration out on the new furnishings, vamping out and using teeth and claws to shred them.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next night he waited until dark and was up and out the minute the sun dipped below the horizon. He walked angrily towards Willy’s, determined to have it out with her one last time. Either she wanted him – man and demon – or she didn’t. He’d had enough of hiding one side or the other, and truly thought over the last weeks they’d become friends and more. He knew she felt something. She’d been so close to admitting it last night. And what was with the ‘bite me’ thing if she didn’t want him?

He shoved open the doors hard enough to have them bounce off the walls. More than one startled demon dropped their glass as he stalked through the room and pulled up a stool at the bar. He’d expected see her serving drinks but she wasn’t there. Well, he could wait. He’d reacquaint himself with a bottle of bourbon while he was there.

“Oy! Willy! Usual over here, make it a bottle.”

Willy sidled over, trying to weigh up the vampire’s mood. He knew something was up. He was a waitress down for a start.

“Here ya go, Spike. You need a glass?”

“No. Just leave the bottle.” Spike pulled on the stopper with his teeth, spitting it out to ping off the mirrored back wall. He took a huge swig of the fiery liquid, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Where is she?”

Ah.

“She quit Spike. No reason, just stalks in here says she’s through. And I’ve got folk coming in here solely on the strength of the Slayer waiting tables. I tell you, the girl’s irresponsible. I’ve a good mind to…”

“You’ll do nothing to her. You hear me? You lay a finger on her, or get somebody else to….” The threat was spoken softly but was none the less menacing for that. Willy backed off, palms held up and out in supplication. He could do without a pissed off master vampire on his tail. He was just mouthing off anyway. Although he would lose some business….

Spike turned his attention back to the bottle, mind racing as he figured out what to do next. Try as he might, he couldn’t hurt the girl. Couldn’t let anyone. What a piss poor excuse for a vampire he’d become. Sitting alone in a demon bar and warning a sorry wanker off the Slayer? He drained the rest of the bottle and signalled for another.

An hour later, he’d finished off two bottles and was ready to start on his third, well on his way to drunken oblivion. He felt the tap on his shoulder and angrily told the dickhead to piss off.

Another tap.

He wheeled round on the stool, fangs in place and ready for a fight.

“I told you to fuck off………….oh!”

Buffy stood in front of him, nervously rubbing her hands and biting her lip. Her hair shone, face made up, nails painted. She wore a strappy black dress with a plunge front and back that barely brushed her knees. Long, tanned legs finished in high heeled mules, her toenails painted scarlet to match her fingers. Spike was stunned. He’d never seen her looking so beautiful. In his confusion, the vampire visage faded. He couldn’t speak, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he struggled to think.

Buffy reached out a hand, bangles jangling together.

“Take me dancing?”

There was no sound in the bar. Every single occupant waited for the drama to play out. Willy cursed himself that he hadn’t thought to sell tickets for the inevitable showdown between vampire and Slayer. Well, inevitable in the ‘everything’s clear with hindsight’ way.

There was a collective ‘aw’ when Spike stood and took her hand in his, all eyes watching them as they walked out, their gazes never leaving each other’s face.

The door shutting behind them cut off the uproar their departure had caused. They carried on walking, Buffy’s heart racing with nerves and Spike rendered truly speechless by what had just transpired. Was he really walking hand in hand with a scantily clad Slayer and heading – so it appeared – towards the Bronze? He chanced a glance at her. She was still nibbling nervously on her bottom lip, cheeks high with colour.

“Buffy, love……not that I’m complainin’, but last I saw was your arse scooting up the ladder. What’s this all about?”

It was here. The moment she’d dreaded. She’d not slept a wink last night trying desperately to sort out what the hell was going through her head. First off, she’d pounced on him, demanded he kiss her. Then she’d gone all husky with his sexy growl. Hell, she was about to drag him downstairs herself when he stood up and did it for her. And he’d fixed up the room and she’d gone all mushy when she was watching him get undressed, musing and thinking poetic thoughts about his eyes. Then he was on her and she delighted in what he was doing to her, her nerve endings fizzing with pleasure. She blushed as she remembered her shameless begging for something more. And oh god! Then she’d pleaded with him to bite her?

She stopped, tugging on his hand to halt him too.

“Spike….I…really don’t know how to explain. But…..it was just…….”

Spike sighed, letting go of her hand to rub at his eyes. “It’s alright, pet. I’m a bad rude man, I know. Shouldn’t have let myself bite you even if you asked. I know it’s wrong. Been kickin’ myself. Trust me, Buffy, I won’t ever do it again.”

Buffy swallowed, hard. No – that wasn’t it.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to him gripping both of his hands with fingers made clammy with nerves. Huge hazel eyes turned on him and speared him to the spot. “Spike. Don’t apologise. That’s not why I ran. I was……..scared.” Spike bowed his head. He was so ashamed.

“Hey! Spike? Look at me. I wasn’t scared of you. I don’t even know how to explain…..see....” Buffy paused, brow furrowing as she tried to find the right words. “What I’m trying to say is, the last weeks we’ve become closer. I never let myself feel anything for you before, when we……well, when I was Queen Bitch Buffy and just hit on you for sex.” She shook her head as Spike tried to speak. “No, let me finish. But just spending time with you……..I like you. No, more than like…….I…..” oh just say it Buffy! ‘I…feel more than like for you. And I want you.”

Spike’s whole world was turned topsy turvy. Good thing he didn’t need to breathe because he doubted he’d be capable. He stared at her as she spoke.

“Last night, with the flowers and all..” she smiled as she recalled fleeing from the crypt like the devil was on her tail but still finding time to search out the roses from where they’d been placed out of harm’s way and clutching them to her chest. “I allowed myself to admit things I’ve felt for a while.” She smiled at him, a hundred watt smile that dazzled and astounded. “I was all set to tell you, too. But then…..well, you know….”

“I bit you.”

“Uh huh. And before you apologise again, I wanted you to. Really, really wanted you to. Ached for it, craved the feel of your fangs in my flesh. And it felt so good………”

Was he dreaming this? The Slayer saying she’d enjoyed his bite?

“And that’s why I was scared. Why I ran.” Her eyes became lustrous with tears, Spike hurrying to wrap her in his arms and pull her safely to nestle on his chest.

“Hey, hey….no tears, Buffy. It’s fine, it’s alright. I promise I won’t ever bite you again.” He strained to hear her reply smothered as it was by her face buried in his chest.

“But I want you to….”

Startled blue eyes sought out hers, his fingers gripping her chin to raise her face. His voice was a whisper of hope. “Buffy……?”

“I want you to bite me. I want you to kiss me. I want you to hold me. I just….want you.”

Howling with elation, Spike gathered her up in his arms and turned around stalking away from the bright lights of the Bronze, all thoughts of dancing forgotten.

TBC - Last chapter coming right up!!!!