Impetuous

Chapter 1: Nothing good ever comes out of an alley

Darling Niece,

It was so wonderful to hear from you and your mother again. I hope this letter finds you both happy and well. As to your request that I tell you the story about how your uncle and I fell in love, it is quite a long, complicated tale. However, as with most love stories it begins with a dashing hero suddenly meeting up with a lady in distress and sweeping her off her feet.

“Hey Anne.”

Just great, Buffy thought, throwing an irritated look over her shoulder at the owner of the greasy diner. He was still wearing his dingy shirt with the red stain smeared on the front from the chicken wings he had snuck off a customer’s plate. The same wings that he had lectured her for eating earlier when a customer complained. Glaring at him once more after that last thought, she forced her lips into what only an idiot would term a smile and asked Bob what he needed.

“Don’t forget the garbage,” he said, taking his eyes off of the blaring TV for the entire two seconds it took him to address her. He waved a fry that he had just fished out of his basket of crispy goodies, pointing to the general vicinity of the overflowed garbage container.

Buffy watched as a glob of ketchup flew off the fry and onto the floor that she had just finished mopping. She threw Bob another irritated glare. It was probably wasted since he was avidly watching his quality programming again, but the action made her feel marginally better. He really didn’t need to point towards the garbage; the rank smell coming from the back told her its exact location. From its neglected state she deduced that no one else had taken their turn at garbage duty. Just wonderful; it wasn’t as if she had enough work to do already.

Wiping the ketchup off the floor with a relatively clean napkin, Buffy reminded herself that she really, really needed this job. Who else was going to hire a minor without any references or even a permanent address? Pulling the garbage bag out of its grimy container and tying it up, she admitted that Bob was one of her few chances of earning an income that didn’t involve baring various body parts while dancing in front of cheesy lights. Some of the seedier places didn’t even insist on proof of age.

Hefting the bag up, she mumbled a tired goodbye. It was pretty heavy, she realized that if she didn’t have Slayer-strength she could have gotten hurt. Note to self: Bob is a caring employer who is always considerate of his employees. As she kicked the door to the alley open, she pondered the merit of buying Bob a bib for his birthday to thank him for his thoughtfulness. Something in a greyish-brown colour so he could blend right in with the butt-ugly couch he spent so much time on.

Her Slayer senses signalled the presence of a Vamp to her just as the door to the alley shut. Buffy quickly scanned the alley, searching for the stupid Vamp that had the temerity to show up after she had worked a 12-hour shift. On her feet. With crappy $15 K-mart shoes, her aching arches pointed out. It would be the last mistake this Vamp would ever make. Irritated and exhausted after dealing with her boss all day, she was going to dust this last aggravation in less time than it took Bob to wolf down a cheeseburger.

Extending her Slayer-senses Buffy tensed as she became aware that the Vamp was no fledgling and thus not going to be the easy kill she had planned on. Fuck, she thought, wishing she had just ducked back into the restaurant before the door had closed. Ok, so maybe she should amend her earlier prediction; she was going to dust this last aggravation in less time than it took Bob to wolf down a cheeseburger with fries and a coke. Facing the garbage bin she sensed the Vamp behind, she hastily added under her breath, “super-sized and a fudge sundae too.”

Despite her rising anxiety, Buffy only spent 5 seconds debating what her plan of action would be. She was the Slayer; it wasn’t a question of could she dust this Vamp, but rather how quickly she could dust this Vamp. Admittedly her weapon options were limited, and the only things she had on hand to use as stakes were the thin wooden chopsticks she had threaded through her hair. Shrugging and telling herself that size wasn’t everything, she prepared to charge around the garbage bin in a straightforward assault. Suddenly she felt another, younger Vamp, rushing in at her from behind. She spun around to face this immediate threat, realizing -too late- that she should have kept facing the more dangerous threat, which was now behind her.

But her momentum had already spun her around and so she met the charging fledgling with the narrow end of her chopstick. It snapped under the pressure from meeting a bony ribcage instead of a fleshy heart and the fledgling ran into her. Grasping the broken piece of chopstick she still had, Buffy muttered, “That’s it. I’m never eating at ‘The Orient’ again.” Shoving the fledgling off her so she could stake him with her shortened piece of chopstick, she didn’t notice the other Vamp behind her until he reached over her shoulders and grabbed the fledgling’s head, snapping its neck with a brutal twist.

Immediately after breaking the fledgling’s neck the other Vamp grasped Buffy roughly into his embrace, immobilizing her for the kill. He leaned over to her ear, on the side where her hair had slid away and left her neck bare and vulnerable, whispering softly “Did you really think those little toothpicks were going to work?” Then he ground the fallen piece of chopstick under the heel of his boot for emphasis.

“Fuck you” Buffy managed to get out while squirming desperately to escape the death grip he had on her body. His cold hands handled her as effectively as they had the fledgling just moments earlier, carrying out the will of their owner with absolute precision. They tightened noticeably as she voiced the profanity. Good, the Vamp hadn’t expected talkback. It got under his skin. And that was what was going to get him staked.

“Really Slayer, is that any way to talk to someone who just saved your life?” the Vamp queried silkily, his accented voice sending shivers down Buffy’s spine. He sounded so familiar. A prickling of awareness raised the hairs on the back of her neck where his unneeded breath tickled her skin. His smooth, amused tone established that he had his emotions back under control and wasn’t going to let her earlier insult distract him from his goal. Damn.

Done talking, the Vamp gripped her even more tightly, raising her slightly higher and bending his head down to her neck. He did it slowly; confidently illustrating the power he had over her. The Vamp paused for an infinitesimal moment over her pulse, just a quick instant to let the Slayer absorb what was happening to her.

Buffy felt the sharp fangs pierce her flesh and slumped in the Vamp’s arms, hoping to gain her freedom though his ensuing confusion. She held her breath, quietly listening to her own racing heartbeat as she waited for the chance to escape.

The Vamp chuckled against her skin at the tactic and continued to carefully drink in her powerful blood. He didn’t rush to drain her, but rather delicately sipped and savoured the warm nourishment. Every few sips he would stop and lick the puncture marks, pausing as if he meant to stop, then sink his fangs into her again, succumbing to the longing for her blood.

Buffy started to feel dizzy as the Vamp continued to drink, and so when he suddenly stopped drinking and released her, she just stood there on wobbly legs and turned her head to look up at the face of her death.

Her eyes widened in recognition as she mouthed the Vamp’s name.

“Sorry pet” the Vamp told her, knocking her unconscious with one blow to the head and sweeping her limp body up into his arms.

Chapter 2: Motels should always ask for a damage deposit

At first your uncle underestimated me, he didn’t see me for the special woman that I am. But I was able to knock some sense into him.

Oh. My. God.

Buffy grabbed her aching head, trying to get her pain-ridden brain to focus on remembering how she got into this state. Drinking, was I drinking? No, no I was working. Bob, um, that idiot owner of the diner, worked my ass off all day. Even made me take out the damned garbage by myself before I left, despite its monstrous proportions.

Garbage. Alley. Vamp. My Blood.

Oh Shit.

Buffy jumped up, opening her eyes on the way. She landed on some cheap carpet in front of heavily curtained windows. Turning around she saw Spike sprawled on the motel bed, shirt off and -strangely enough- wrapped around the middle of his torso. Buffy slapped her hand over the fresh bite mark on her neck, still tender and bruised from Spike’s deadly drink.

Her mind froze at that point; the only explanation it offered for last night’s events and her presence in Spike’s motel room was that she had been Turned.

Panic seized her muscles and left her standing motionless, staring at Spike’s slumbering form. She had to do something now her brain screamed, act while he was still asleep.

Commanding her muscles to move, Buffy walked over to the curtains holding back the sun’s deadly rays and whipped them open. Swallowing her fear, she leaped into the sunlight -ignoring the hollered curse and rapid movement from Spike- as she bravely sacrificed her Vamped body.

The floor rushed up to meet her, the impact making her teeth clack painfully together as she fell face first into the carpet. She lay there, stunned and feeling every inch of the carpet burn on her skinned chin, waiting to combust.

“What the fuck are you doing? You. Stupid. Bint,” Spike angrily asked, inching his blanket-covered form around the sunlight. He quickly shut the curtains and banished the threatening rays. The risk of an afternoon fry eliminated, he reached down and picked Buffy up, throwing her onto the vacant bed.

Flying through the air snapped Buffy out of her stunned state; she bounded up to stand on the bed as soon as she landed.

“It’s not going to work, Spike. I’m going to dust your pathetic ass and then… and then find a way to end my own Unlife. You won’t have a cute little Slayer-Vamp for a pet.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Unlife? I didn’t kill you. Can’t you feel your heart beating? I can bloody well hear it,” he told her, gripping his head with the intensity of a man regretfully experiencing the morning-after hangover. “I can’t believe you got me up at this hour,” he grumbled while scowling at the curtained windows.

Buffy glared at Spike, jumping to avoid the blanket he whipped at her feet while he cursed her lack of intelligence. She was concentrating on the comforting presence of her heartbeat when she heard him compare her IQ to that of a mere fledgling, commenting that he wouldn’t bother to turn anyone already so moronic.

“Too intimidated by the thought of a fledgling with more brains than you” she yelled, incensed. Taking a step towards him she continued, “Perhaps you need companions more in the style of Dru. Her ramblings made the nonsense you sprout at least sound like something a 5-year old could manage.”

Growling loudly, he pulled the sheet on the bed out from under her feet and then threw himself on top of her fallen body. He grabbed her hands and straddled her thighs, resting all his weight on her to pin her to the bed.

“Don’t you ever. Say that. Name.” Spike growled into her ear. He was fully Vamped, his yellow eyes staring down into her angry hazel ones. As she continued to struggle under his restraining hold he leaned even further onto her tightly muscled body.

She glared back at him, her own eyes promising him a painful death as soon as he released her. She didn’t even seem intimidated by his Vamped features or her vulnerable position. If Spike’s Vamp-senses hadn’t picked up her raised heartbeat he wouldn’t have known that she was afraid. Either that or the stupid bint was getting all hyped to stake him. Somehow he figured it was the latter.

“Get off of me Spike.”

“Oh? And get myself dusted for my trouble? I don’t think so, pet.”

“I’ll dust you quick instead of slow if you let go now. And don’t call me pet.”

“No.” Pause. “Pet.”

For a moment the room went completely silent as the insult registered and both opponents acknowledged that the gauntlet had been thrown. Then all hell broke loose. Even Spike, who had seen many things hellish, admitted that he had seldom seen anything more destructive than the infuriated Slayer.

Buffy felt a red haze of anger cloud her thoughts as the insolent Billy Idol reject smugly called her *pet* from his oh-so-superior perch above her on the bed. She gave Spike a grin that was just a shadow of the one she had bestowed on Bob last night. Instead of only conveying her irritation, it promised him total annihilation - in about two seconds. Spike couldn’t help but momentarily think her parody of a grin resembled the baring of teeth before a predator strikes. He tried to tighten his grip but his reflexes were much too slow for the angry Slayer.

Buffy sank her pearly whites deeply into Spike’s shoulder with relish, giving the impression that she was trying to tear his arm off at the joint with just the power of her jaw alone.

Spike knew the Slayer was like a pit bull and wouldn’t disengage her teeth until something really did give, so he released her hands allowing him to defend himself.

Buffy took immediate advantage and used her newly freed hands to get purchase on Spike’s struggling frame, pushing sideways to unbalance and flip him. Wasting no time, she drove her right knee firmly upwards, impacting solidly enough to drive Spike’s yell to a considerably higher pitch. Then rolling off of him, she ripped the nearby brass lamp off the night table and brought it down with an Amazonian like yell to his bleached head.

Suddenly Spike’s survival instinct kicked in full force and gave him no other option than to ignore his aching groin for the moment, and to roll over to avoid any potential strike. He grabbed the offending lamp by its screwed-in shade and wrenched it away from the Slayer before she could raise it and have another go at smashing his skull in.

Buffy desperately grabbed the brown lamp cord and yanked it from the socket, whipping it at Spike when he wouldn’t release his death-grip on the lamp. However, when Spike’s yellow eyes flashed up at her, she wisely choose to halt the spur-of-the-moment attack in favour of getting out of sight of that threatening stare. Definite regroup needed.

Infuriated himself now, Spike threw the lamp at the spot the Slayer had just occupied. She wasn’t just trying to kill him; she was trying to kill him painfully. Doing her best to bite, kick, smash and whip various parts of him into submission. Just the thinking of that word, submission, made him want to howl with fury. Never mind that the word was connected with a tiny blonde woman who just happened to be the Slayer. That just made it worse.

With a growl he leaped off the bed, scanning the tiny room for the enraged Slayer and whatever weapon she had in her hands now. Hearing her breathing coming from the bathroom he stormed over to it, only pausing momentarily when he heard a suspicious sound, like something being ripped from the wall.

Not wanting to give her time to think of how to use whatever she had acquired, he kicked the bathroom door the rest of the way open and yanked the shower curtains away to reveal the Slayer. Holding a metal pole. Spike’s peripheral vision picked up the towels piled up on the floor. A very solid looking metal towel pole his brain informed him, unhelpfully.

Buffy flashed her parody of a grin again, swinging the metal pole in a short yet brutal arc and connecting with the side of Spike’s head. Assuming once wasn’t enough when he remained dazed yet still standing, she swung again from her other side, in an uppercut that would have easily smashed the jaw of any human.

Spike slumped down to the cold tiles of the bathroom floor in an only half-pretend unconscious collapse, knowing that once again he was going to have to cheat to subdue the powerful Slayer. The irritation caused by having to use such tactics made him act more roughly and rashly when Buffy bent down to check him. He grabbed her head and yanked her down to him, using the cramped quarters to his advantage by pinning Buffy between the tub and himself, making it impossible for her to manoeuvre. Giving her little time to react, he bared her neck and buried his fangs into her soft flesh, drinking in her blood.

“No, please. Not again.”

Her quiet plea broke through the anger goading his demon and let him bring it under control. Retracting his fangs from the weak but still conscious Slayer, he picked her up and sat her on a wooden chair. Grabbing the ropes from his bag that he should have used from the start, he tied her securely and then sat opposite to her on the bed.

“Slayer, we need to talk.”

Chapter 3: Ex-lovers are always evil, scheming creatures

There was a slight misunderstanding early on in our relationship, something to do with our need to take care of each other. In the end we found that it was only when we took the time to sit down and talk that we were able to become closer.

Buffy raised her woozy head and glared accusingly at the Vamp that had her under his control for the second time in less than 24 hours. She focused on the colourful bruise starting to form on his jaw instead of his moving lips. Looked good on him. She smiled her first genuine grin of the day.

“Slayer?”

“What do you want?” Buffy insolently said, her tone conveying her lack of interest in hearing his reply.

God, she was so annoying. How could he have forgotten to tie her up before he fell asleep? “There are a lot of things I want. But this isn’t about what I want; it’s more about what I’m bloody well being forced to do.” Spike clarified. “And don’t doubt that this is entirely your fault” he added.

“My fault? Oh, that’s rich. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one who is half drained and tied up.” Buffy pointed out. “You are the one who broke your promise; the one who said he would take Dru and never come back,” she continued, glaring at him accusingly. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. Say what you want, then untie me,” she commanded queenly, pulling at the constricting bonds, which just seemed to tighten them even further.

Spike looked out of the window, careful to keep his skin out of the sunlight. “Did you notice we aren’t in Sunnydale anymore?”

“What’s your point Spike?”

“I said I would leave Sunnydale with Dru. It’s not my fault that you went exploring, Columbus.”

“Try again. You kidnapped me. You went looking for me. I didn’t just happen to wander on by you, Spike.”

“Did I say you did, Slayer? But I didn’t kidnap you. I actually saved your worthless ass last night. And where are my thanks? All I got was dust now, questions later.”

“I find Vamp-dust easier to interrogate. It’s less likely to fake fainting and then sucker-bite me when I let my guard down.

At that comment Spike leapt off the bed and started to pace in front of her. He walked over to where she was tied, petting her gently on the head, as one would to reward a puppy that had just fetched a ball. The significance of the gesture wasn’t lost on Buffy.

In a sugar-sweet, patronizing voice he told her “Don’t worry pet, I’ll play with you when you’re all grown up.” Switching back to his normal, although aggravated tone, he continued, “And unfortunately, you will grow up if I have anything to say about it.”

Buffy just sat silently in her chair, itching to dunk her head in a hot bubble bath and scrub it for hours to wash his touch off. Well, that was after she ripped his offending limb off of him and beat him with it for daring to touch her in such a condescending manner.

Catching the last part of his sentence she peered up at him and blinked her eyelashes ridiculously fast, saying in her own sugarcoated tone, “Oh, my hero. Spike, however can I thank you for doing everything to ensure I reach the ripe old Slayer age –of what- 24 years? I can see by your actions how dedicated you are already.” Her tone was rapidly degrading from the sweetness that gives toothaches to the shrillness that gives headaches. “Half draining me so I’m too weak to injure myself by attempting any defence and tying me to a chair so I can’t accidentally murder my own saviour are just some of the thoughtful gestures you have made.”

“Ha Ha Ha, Slayer. Stop blinking your eyes like a bloody beauty pageant contestant – you’re making me dizzy- and listen to why I’m going to keep your precious little self breathing.”

“I don’t care what your reasons are. Obviously Dru isn’t the only crazy one in the family. Remember, you vampire, me Slayer?”

“Stupid. Ignorant. Child.” Spike said, punctuating each word with a step towards the bed. Dragging out a large brown demon from underneath it –a thankfully non-smelly demon- he turned to face her once more. “Recognize this?”

“Kal’daren, any contact with humans causes instant paralysis and intense pain, which only stops when the demon is killed.”

“Not bad. Didn’t think that demon classification was a hobby of yours. Of course, you should remember all about the type of demon that made you scream in nightmares for weeks. Entire demon community talked about nothing else for a month after one almost killed you. Quite lucky for you that your Watcher was there. Prob’ly even luckier for him that he was able to hit the Kal’daren with an arrow in exactly the right spot.”

Buffy had tensed up immediately upon sighting the dreaded demon, and now was sweating profusely, with droplets of liquid fear sliding down the edge of her shoulder blades to pool at the base of her spine.

“I can smell your fear.” Spike claimed, dropping the arm of the demon and walking over to trace circles on her sweat-dampened nape. “This is what was really waiting for you last night in the alley. And there wasn’t going to be any Watcher to save you this time.” Flicking a piece of sweat-dampened hair off her shoulder he whispered, “The fledgling was just a distraction.”

“Given that you are the model of honesty and heroism, it must be true,” Buffy responded. Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Spike stepped in front of her and slowly unwound the shirt he had tied so securely around his torso.

Buffy gasped as she saw the familiar green and purple bull’s-eye mark marring his left side, the same type of mark that had taken two weeks to heal on her, even with her Slayer-healing.

“Vampires aren’t paralysed by the secretions on Kal’daren skin but it does burn. I took out that demon for you. Of course you nearly turned me into a dust bunny for housekeeping as a reward.” Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he looked into her eyes and promised, “I’m not going to harm you, Slayer.”

Buffy fought back the snort of disbelief; apparently nearly draining her and tying her to a chair with every knot known to boy scouts didn’t count as harm. She had broken a nail when he ripped the lamp out of her hands. That qualified as harm in her book. Suspending her disbelief, Buffy casually said, “Not to look a gift-Vamp in the fangs, but why should I believe you?” And his explanation had better be good.

“I brought the Kal’daren to give you proof. Knew you were going to be the queen of denial. Saw it when you made puppy eyes at Angel, until Angelus made an entrance.”

“Don’t you ever. Say that. Name” Buffy warned him, returning his warning to him in the same tone as he delivered it.

Spike eyed her tiny, angry form warily. She had the same look in her eyes as when she had nearly sent his balls back to their embryonic origins. “Fine, we won’t mention either of them.” When Buffy looked as if she was going to object he said more firmly “either of them!”

“So tell me why you suddenly decided to take on the role of knight in shining….”

“Dru cursed me” he injected, interrupting her sarcastic query.

Figuring this was an exception to the ‘don’t mention them’ rule Buffy jumped right in, “What? Your psycho-ho laid a curse on you that makes you rescue me? As if I would believe that.”

“Course not, you stupid bint. She gained a lot of power after we left. Angelus sent for a demon healer, who tracked us down and restored her to full power. And then some. Not suprisingly, Dru’s decided to get revenge on all of us who took her ‘Daddy’ away.” Even those of us who remained faithfully by her side for over a century, Spike thought bitterly. “And don’t call her a ho!”

“How could a healer restore her power if you weren’t able to bring it all back with the ritual?” Her tone reflected none of the inner turmoil Spike had caused by talking about Angelus again. Her old lover had been obsessed with doing anything that would cause her more anguish and grief. A powerful Dru, who had a grudge against Buffy, would have been icing on the cake.

“I don’t know. But she used managed to place a powerful witch under her thrall. Convinced the witch to promise any demon the prize of its choice if it brings your head back to Dru. With that kind of bribe every demon and even some humans will be willing to hunt you down.”

“So you let Dru start some kind of bounty hunt for me? Or at least for my head?” Buffy asked. Then she added disparagingly, “I never should have let you leave with her.”

“Hey this isn’t my fault, it’s Angelus’. He’s the one who sent for the healer. Wanker probably planned on using Dru to kill you once she was healed, though I doubt he foresaw this turn of events. Still, he would laugh his head off if he knew. But that isn’t what’s really important.”

Her heart was not breaking again. Not breaking. Think about the peroxide Vamp instead. The one who’s fangs you’re going to personally yank out before you dust him for feeding you this wild story. It was insulting that he thought she was this stupid.

Spike continued his story when Buffy remained silent. “The reason I’m here is that Dru had the witch cast a spell that will dust me right after you die. Said that if I wanted to aid the Slayer then she would give me all the motivation I’d need. She wouldn’t listen when I told her that I just wanted to rescue her; that it was all for her. No, all she cares about is her missing ‘Daddy’. Bother that you were the one who sent him to Hell and not me.”

“Untie me.”

Spike backed up from the Slayer, rubbing his bruised jaw. “I don’t think so, pet.” She had been eyeing him in a very intense, very unfriendly manner. That didn’t bode well, and he wasn’t really up for a second round so soon. Besides, he kind of like seeing the high and mighty Slayer tied up and helpless. Brought to mind all sorts of possibilities.

Buffy interrupted Spike’s unproductive thoughts: “I won’t hurt you.” Much. “What’s the saying; keep your friends close and your enemies even closer? Or something like that.”

Spike didn’t back up any more but he didn’t come closer either. “On two conditions only: one, you won’t make any attempt to kill me, and two, that you will let me drink from you whenever I want as long as I don’t drain you.”

Chapter 4: The power of beautiful blue eyes is highly underrated

Probably every woman finds one part of her husband irresistible. For me, it was always your uncle’s eyes; one glance from his stunning blue eyes made me weak all over.

“No, no, a million times no. Absolutely not! I will not let you bite me. How stupid do I look?” Buffy ranted. “Don’t even think about answering that” she was quick to add when she saw him open his mouth. “I won’t kill you if you don’t try killing me, or any other humans, but I won’t let you anywhere near my neck.” Her heartbeat sped up just thinking about Spike near her neck again.

“Then I suggest you start wiggling your fingers to ward off gangrene from having the blood to your hands cut off so long. Do you know what gangrene looks like? What it smells like? During the war I used to…”

“Shut up Spike” Buffy interrupted, while trying to unobtrusively wiggle her fingers behind her back. Maybe she would grind his fangs down first and then yank the stubs out before dusting him. Obnoxious Vampire.

“I’ll only take a little bit at a time, not enough to impact your fighting abilities.” And that was an unfortunate fact, Spike lamented.

“That statement is backed up by my experience of the last two times you drank from me.” Maybe she should have said the last two times you drained me. He pretty much had. Her body still was weak from the last ‘little sip’ he had taken.

“I didn’t take much then either. Well, I hadn’t intended to,” he amended. “Look, I just need a bit to help… ah… persuade you to calm down.”

“Persuade?” She so did not like that word.

Leaning over to touch her knee, Spike looked directly into her eyes and blinked.

Buffy almost toppled her chair over when the surge of her Slayer strength came rushing back. Then Spike looked intently into her eyes again, tilting his head in concentration, and weakness filled her body once more.

“It’s just for my protection. I can’t kill you, so I can’t fight you fairly, head on. It’s the only way that allows me to protect you while ensuring that you don’t stake me in payment for my good deeds. As does seem to be your habit.”

“You can steal my strength whenever you want just by drinking some of my blood?” Buffy yelled, outraged at this injustice. Suddenly things were much more serious. And Spike’s outrageous story didn’t seem quite so insane.

“You only get downgraded to Clark Kent if you threaten me. Even then it’s temporary. Just ‘til you behave. You already know that I won’t kill you. You have the advantage. I just want to even up the odds a bit.”

“I can barely stand upright when you steal my powers. Somehow I wouldn’t call that fair play, unless you play by the same rules Giles does at poker.” Who was she kidding? This was Spike; he probably cheated at a lot more things than just poker.

“Rupert and poker?” Spike couldn’t help but be momentarily sidetracked. From what he had gleaned about the Watcher, Rupert was as straight-laced as they come. Except for some youthful experimentation with Magicks, but that was long ago.

“He puts cards up his sleeve after his 3rd shot,” Buffy dryly related. Actually that was the whole reason that Buffy encouraged him to take that third shot. It was amusing to see her by-the-book Watcher do something so blatantly against the rules.

“Not that I don’t believe you, but Rupert actually drinks more than one shot? Doesn’t seem very proper of him,” Spike commented, raising his scarred eyebrow.

“Says I drive him to it. And we’re getting off topic. Untie me now and I will try not to stake you.” Buffy said, smiling brightly. Her cheeks hurt with the strain to maintain such a bogus smile.

She was smiling too brightly. Spike eyed her false grin with trepidation. “Not unless you agree to my terms.”

“No way. They are stupid. And you are stupid if you think I will let you do that to me.”

“Not stupid enough to release you if you don’t to the terms” he replied. “You’d live even with you arms cut off at the elbows because of gangrene, whereas I would not do so well with a stake imbedded in my heart.”

“Fine,” Buffy relented, grudgingly. This standoff was getting ridiculous. Besides, she rather liked the portions of her arms below her elbows.

Spike reached for her ropes, saying, “I’m sacrificing something too you know. I heard you say that you didn’t want me snacking on people. You’re going to make me bag it like that poofer Angel did. Still seems to me you get the better end of our little compromise.”

“For you we are talking a slight change in diet. I have to become part of you diet. I think I know who really got the best part of the deal. Just untie me right now!”

Spike wisely kept quiet and quickly loosened the knots holding her hands and feet bound.

Buffy remained sitting in the chair.

“Um Spike? Remember the part where you don’t suck my powers away like the sneaky little thief that you are and actually let me have the ability to defend myself? Might come in handy if some of the nasties that you swear Dru sent after me decide to show up.” Then she sweetly added, “Unless you want to keep them to yourself so you can try out all of your wanna-be Slayer fantasies.”

Spike picked up the limp Slayer and stared angrily into her eyes. “The only fantasies I have that involve Slaying are those where I slay your wit. You wouldn’t know funny if it bit…”

“Don’t mention the bite word around me. And. Give. Me. Back. My. Fucking. Powers.”

“Just saying that you haven’t got a sense of humour, is all. You don’t even have to stake the Vamps to dust them; just tell them a few more of your laugh-less one-liners and they’ll do themselves in to escape the torture.”

“Spike.” Buffy said his name very calmly, sounding just like the quiet in the eye of a storm. Glancing quickly over her shoulder and seeing the shambles his room was left in as a result of their earlier skirmish, he thought to himself, ‘the eye of a F5 tornado.’

“Just give me a moment, ok. You didn’t even say please,” Spike added, looking back into her eyes.

“Give. Me. Back. My. Fucking. Powers.” Pause. “Now.”

Buffy felt a surge of strength hit her as Spike unceremoniously dropped her to the floor. Despite having landed with a ‘bump’ she decided to return the favour and kicked his legs out from underneath him.

From his position on the floor Spike told her, “As much as I would like to play right now Slayer, I do believe there are some more pressing matters for us to attend to.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Not exactly what I was referring to but I’m sure we can grab something on the road.”

“Road? As in road trip? When did I agree to this?”

“Oh? Would you prefer to stay and wait for the nasties to come here? We don’t want to make it too difficult for them to find you. Maybe we could even hang a sign on the door to help the demon assassins out.”

She ignored Spike as she got up off the floor and peered out of the curtains, making him jump back to avoid the late afternoon sun that entered the gloomy room. “Where are we anyways?”

“Other side of town.”

That was descriptive. Sounded like Spike was keeping her in the dark. And that made her suspicious. “So now you propose that I just get in a car with you and drive to destination unknown, all because YOU say Dru sent some demons after me. Let’s not forget the most important part either; you know, the part where you get dusted if I die. That’s my favourite part of the story; it’s the part where I would have to be a complete idiot to believe it!”

“That about sums it up.” Spike said nonchalantly, stretching out on the floor far away from the window. He was so drained after their fight and now was losing the battle to stay awake. “Besides this isn’t a democracy. We will leave as soon as the sun is down. Might as well get some rest while you can. I’ll get you something to eat when we leave.”

Buffy looked down at Spike’s fatigued form on the floor, feeling the tug of sleep pull at her too. It must have been from all the recent blood loss. Her body felt half-drained despite Spike’s insistence that he hadn’t taken much. Maybe he hadn’t returned all of her powers. That thought had her glaring at him angrily.

Spike looked sleepily up at the Slayer. She was staring daggers at him again. What the hell was she upset about now? She was untied. She had her powers back, at his expense. His own body was complaining at the release of her Slayer powers when he still could have used them to heal. Not only did he have the Kal’daren wound to worry about, he also had Slayer-inflicted injuries that needed time to heal. Time, and sleep. And the only way he was going to get any sleep was if he had the Slayer close beside him, secure and far from trouble.

“Slayer, come lie down. We’ve only got about 2 hours left until sundown.”

“I suggest that you use them well,” Buffy said in response, walking over to the relatively more comfortable bed and settling under the covers. She mentally stomped down any thoughts of the dead Kal’daren still half under the bed.

“I’m sorry. That must have sounded like a request. Maybe that’s why you didn’t obey?” Spike said in a voice that didn’t sound at all apologetic. “Let me clarify that for you: it was an order. Get. Over. Here. Now.”

Buffy turned over, giving Spike her back. “You keep on chattering like that and we won’t get any rest,” she told him threateningly. She smirked into the pillow.

Spike summoned the reserves of his strength, got up and walked over to the bed. Staring down at the Slayer, he smiled in an eerie replication of Buffy’s previous grin, the one before the towel pole incident, and then abruptly yanked her out of the comfortable bed.

“We are going to sleep over in this nice dark corner of the room,” he told Buffy as she tried to squirm lose of his grip. “Luckily out of reach of the sunlight if the curtains should happen to accidentally be opened again.”

“There is no we, Spike.” She made herself ignore the flutter in her stomach as her hand closed around his rock-hard bicep. It was just the sleepiness letting these types of thoughts invade her head.

“Pet, you won’t even be able to take a piss without me right beside you. As long as my Unlife is tied to your all-too-mortal existence WE are going to do everything together. And that includes you lying close beside me while we sleep.”

Buffy mutely lowered herself to the floor when Spike set her down. She brushed off the arm he tried to wrap around her, curling up into a stiff ball and giving him her back once more. That lasted all of three seconds.

Spike grabbed the Slayer and yanked her body against his own, spoon like, confined to his embrace by the strong thigh he wrapped around her hips. That also lasted all of three seconds. She struggled free of his grip and jumped up, only to stare at him stubbornly. Obviously she objected to actual contact with him. He wasn’t insulted. Definitely not.

“Fine” Spike exclaimed, “you don’t have to touch me but I want you to sleep next to the wall.” He scooted over and indicated the area he wanted her to lie down on. When Buffy remained standing he threatened “your powers or…?”

Slowly, Buffy lowered herself next to the spot between Spike and the wall. Like he had really given her a choice. She counted the number of petals on the flowery wallpaper in front of her until sleep claimed her.
-----------

Buffy woke up surrounded by Spike; his scent and heavy limbs cocooned her into an intimate embrace. As she shifted to give the encroaching Vamp an annoyed glare, she became aware of how asleep he was. He was deathly still, without the reassuring movement from breathing even an unconscious person has. It was a tiny bit unnerving, but any fear she felt was over-ridden by the possible advantages to this situation. After the taste she received earlier of his blatant intimidation tactics she knew that she had to escape from the overbearing, power-stealing thief. She didn’t need him to protect her from Dru’s demon assassins.

Now all she had to do was untangle their limbs without waking him and quietly leave.

Ha. Much easier said than done. Spike had wrapped her so securely in his embrace while they had slept that it might take the Jaws of Life to extricate her. But… no one said she couldn’t wake him… the goal here was to get out of his restraining grip.

With that thought in mind she shifted to bring her lips within inches of Spike’s. Eyes closed in a mockery of sleep; she licked her lips and then brushed them softly against Spike’s. Nothing like a sexy little kiss to wake a guy up fast, she hurriedly defended her actions to herself. Never mind that she’d dreamt of more than just kissing Spike only two nights before. Those were just weird, greasy-food overdose and scary movie induced nightmares. Erotic nightmares, agreed. But since they involved the evil, soulless peroxide blonde they were definitely nightmares. Why was she arguing with herself?

Regaining her focus, Buffy licked her lips once more and kissed him again, lingering slightly when the pleasant feel of his lips under hers caught her by surprise. When he didn’t react she kissed him more firmly. Waited. Then she cocked one eye open and gave him another annoyed glance; how deeply could he sleep? Her single eye met his blue gaze with a start; the hastily devised plan left her thoughts as she stared at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“Um… ohhh Angel” she moaned belatedly as she opened her other eye. Then ignoring Spike’s bewildered look she abruptly shoved out of his arms and stood up shouting, “Ew, Spike?”

Moments later Spike reciprocated “Ew, Slayer?” However, he didn’t wipe the taste of her off his lips as she had. In fact he slowly licked his own lips, as if tasting the essence of her kiss out of curiosity.

Buffy quickly took a few strides backwards, putting her further from Spike and closer to the door. She was out of his arms and he was still lying only half-awake on the floor. Goal accomplished. Now all she needed was to keep him distracted for a few more seconds so she could slip outside the door. The sunlight peeping from between the curtain and the window teased her with its promise of freedom from Spike and his power pilfering ways.

“Slayer, come back down here. We still have half an hour to rest before sunset.” Spike told her. Then he added, rather grumpily, “Just keep your thoughts about the poofer to yourself.” Noticeably, he didn’t tell her to keep her lips to herself also.

Buffy glanced back over her shoulder and said distractedly, “Gee, I’m sorry Spike. I don’t know how I could have ever mixed the two of you up. It’s like mistaking cheap zirconium for priceless diamond. Think of how I felt when I woke up.”

Insulted and still drowsy, Spike just rolled over and gave Buffy his back. The girl was bloody lying and he didn’t know why. Unable to let her have the last word, however, he snidely replied, “Yes, that Angelus was real precious, wasn’t he? Can’t believe you let that treasure get away. Oh wait, you sent him away. Far away. Perhaps he wasn’t all he seemed to be? A flawed diamond? Or maybe you just don’t have the eye for diamonds that you thought you had. Can’t tell the fakes from the real thing?”

The whole time Spike ranted at her with his back turned Buffy gritted her teeth and ignored him, inching her way towards the door. Her hand grasped the knob at the same time Spike finished implying that she had bad judgement when it came to men. Big surprise. She had the bad taste to have erotic nightmares about him, didn’t she? Not that she was going to let him get away with his not-so-subtle insult. She had enough of a safety margin, now that she was at the door, to afford her time to get in one last come-back. “Don’t worry too much Spike, I think my judgement is suddenly getting better,” she yelled, twisting the knob. She slammed the door with a satisfactory bang, almost crushing Spike’s hand as he belatedly lunged for her.

Her good humour from getting the last jibe in was short-lived, however, when she realized how little time she had until sunset. As she rushed to the motel office to phone a cab she hastily put together a mental list of things she had to do in order to put a considerable amount of distance between her and Spike. Given the amount of time she had it was a short list: get paycheck from diner and leave town.

It wasn’t until she was sitting in the cab and being driven away from the motel that she wondered why Spike hadn’t sucked her powers away.

Chapter 5: Pinball isn’t appreciated as much as it should be

Hello sweet pea,

Your mum told me that you asked how your aunt and I fell in love. I knew that I had to write you right away to make sure they didn’t tell you some poofter story. It was your aunt’s efficient way of dealing with life’s unexpected demons that first drew me to her. Who could resist such a self-sufficient, resourceful and able woman like your aunt? Nothing more appealing than a woman who will jump onto her problem and twist things around to her own liking, instead of waiting for someone else to help her.

Ducking a swipe from the demon’s razor sharp tail, Buffy mentally listed the reasons she should have listened more carefully to Spike. One, he hasn’t actually tried to kill me yet – unless you count the look he gave me after I whipped him with the lamp cord. Two, he killed the Kal’daren demon, which I am now beginning to believe was waiting for me. Although, loss of points for leaving it under the bed… ugh!

The demon started hissing words at her, distracting Buffy from her mental reproof. It was scaly and kind of resembled a tall, human-sized lizard. A lizard that could stand on its hind feet, had long clawed hands and a tail with 3 whirling blades on its end. Bet that came in handy for making firewood. Fire. She felt like all of her muscles were on fire, having battled the demon for the better part of an hour. Unfortunately the demon was of the energizer-bunny variety, and due to her recent encounters with Spike she wasn’t up to a quick kill.

Another swipe with the power-saw tail had Buffy ducking into the pinball machine headfirst, unintentionally causing the machine to turn on. The lights and noise scared the demon, making it back up and giving Buffy time to stand up. Pinball really was an unappreciated game.

“That’s it, you brainless, reckless, bint,” Spike yelled, slamming the front door behind him. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t be here. No, I thought to myself, even the Slayer isn’t so bloody daft as to actually come back to the place where Dru’s demons last attacked her. But no, here you are, and playing pinball of all things. I don’t know how the Watcher ever put up with you. Get the hell over here. We’re leaving now before anything else finds us and decides to make a birthday present for Dru out of your head.” Spike kept on charging towards Buffy, unaware of the demon inching up behind him in the shadows.

When Buffy didn’t instantly scream some sort of come-back to him, Spike stopped for a moment and took in his surroundings. Three things became immediately apparent: the diner was in shambles just like his motel room; there was a dead man with his throat sliced open in the corner; and Slayer was going to take his head off with that folding chair.

“Bugger.”

Ducking, Spike heard the metal chair impact on something quite solid. As he spun around, still crouched, he saw a Tuyen demon shaking the stars from its head.

“Thanks for the warning Slayer,” Spike snidely remarked looking back at Buffy.

“Duck.”

“Well, it’s a little late now, isn’t it?”

“No, you idiot. Behind you.”

Spike obediently ducked and rolled out the way, hearing the swoosh of the Tuyen’s tail as it swung through the air where his head had been a second ago. He’d forgotten about that particular body part of Tuyen demons. And its tendency to wield it crazily like a Chinese chef would a cleaver when making a buffet for 100 in under an hour.

Spike watched as Buffy brought the folding chair up and smashed it into the Tuyen’s shoulder, which had been left exposed when it attacked him. Unfortunately it made little impact on the heavily protected demon. Its scaly skin was tough, with a thick layer of fat underneath that cushioned any blows it received. Damn demon was almost impossible to kill, even with weapons. The chair Buffy was wielding looked so bent out of shape from the first two blows that he didn’t know how much longer it would last.

When the Tuyen turned angrily back to Buffy after her last blow with the chair, Spike felt his Undead-heart squeeze in fear. “Oh that’s right Slayer. Do your best to *really* piss it off so it will saw your head off all the more sooner. You could show a bit more concern for me, you know. Remember the dusty ending I’m cursed to if your head rolls.”

“Excuse me if I have more important things to worry about then a little extra dust lying around here” she commented, her arms swinging to encompass the not-so-clean diner.

“A little extra dust” Spike sputtered. “But remember I don’t get my dusty desserts until you…”

“I didn’t forget” Buffy interrupted impatiently, ducking yet another swipe by the Tuyen. “If my head rolls, you dust. Because Dru is all-powerful now. She has a witch under her thrall. Blah, bla”

Buffy’s sarcastic monologue cut off with a squeak of surprise as the Tuyen grabbed her with his clawed hands, sharp talons piercing her back.

Spike quickly attacked the Tuyen from behind, levelling a strong forward kick to its lower back and knocking it off-balance. The demon let go of Buffy in a reflexive move to bring its arms out to its sides and regain balance.

Buffy spun around and knocked away the clawed hands reaching for her once again. Gathering up her strength, she prepared to charge the Tuyen when she heard a whirling sound. Cursing herself for having momentarily forgotten the slicer-dicer tail, she jumped out of its deadly path and right into Spike.

Spike let out a little oomph as Buffy knocked him to the ground while leaping away from the Tuyen’s tail strike. He saw her coming but wasn’t quick enough to do much more then cushion her fall with his body. The groan coming from her as she lay dazed on top of him told him his efforts weren’t all that appreciated. Of course, he hadn’t been able to prevent her head from smacking into the floor. Stupid, precious head.

“Get off me” Spike shouted as he spotted the Tuyen’s whirling tail descending rapidly upon them. When his verbal command didn’t generate an immediate response he shoved the Slayer’s prone body off of him and leaped up, grabbing onto the Tuyen’s tail just above the revolving blades. Holding the deadly tail, he hollered back to Buffy “A little help would be nice!”

Buffy glanced towards the area where Spike’s obnoxiously loud voice was projecting. She finally glimpsed his kneeling form with the Tuyen’s tail clasped tightly between his palms through the stars clouding her vision. Grabbing the back of her head with one hand she winced and stood up unsteadily. Then she fell right back down. She needed a few more seconds.

“Bloody hell” Spike grumbled as he heard the Slayer hit the floor a second time.

The Tuyen flicked its tail out of Spike’s grasp, abrading the skin of Spike’s palms with the friction from its scales sliding rapidly across his skin. Having decided that its tail was not such an effective weapon after so many misses, the Tuyen reached for Spike with its clawed hands instead.

Spike barely ducked out of reach of the Tuyen’s long, pointed claws. Taking a few steps back towards the safety of the bar, he glanced around to look for a weapon to use against the overgrown lizard. Spike’s eyes rapidly skimmed over smashed liquor bottles and a baseball bat lying against the mirrored wall tiles. As he reached for the bat he saw Buffy’s image reflected in the mirrored wall tiles, along with the Tuyen’s, which was abandoning its attack on him to assault the nearly unconscious Slayer.

Spike leapt over the bar, bat in hand, yelling at the Tuyen. “Stay away from her.” He swung the bat with all his strength at the back of the Tuyen’s head, trying unsuccessfully to draw its attention away from Buffy.

Buffy was rudely awakened from her painful haze by the even more painful feeling of the Tuyen’s claws digging into her ribs, once again. It was kind of strange because the Tuyen didn’t seem to be crushing her; it was just holding her in the air and letting its claws pierce her skin. Consequently, it was the combination of pain from the Tuyen’s claws and the oddness of its attack that brought Buffy rapidly back to full consciousness. That, and seeing Spike swinging a baseball bat wildly at the Tuyen. She wasn’t all that confident that he wouldn’t ‘accidentally’ miss.

Spike dropped the bat after one unsuccessful hit and grabbed the Tuyen’s tail, bringing its long length over the demon’s arm. He thrust the whirling end at the Tuyen’s elbow, causing the demon to drop Buffy and swivel around to face his other opponent. Ok now he needed the bat. He faced the demon, distracting it from the recovering Slayer.

“If you put your scaly hands on her again I’ll use your tail to slice off all of your limbs and then…” Spike trailed off, staring incredulously as Buffy jumped from the top of the pinball table onto the back of the Tuyen demon.

“What exactly are you going to do from up there?” Spike asked. He noticed she also didn’t have any weapons.

“This” she answered, squeezing the upper body of the demon with her thighs and twisting its head abruptly with her hands. The crack from the Tuyen’s neck snapping echoed in the diner as it slumped towards the floor. “It’s something I picked up last night. Very effective” she commented.

Buffy jumped off of the Tuyen’s back and headed towards the door at a brisk pace. “Are you coming Spike?”

“Excuse me?”

“Remember? Road Trip? Running away from Dru’s demon hit squad?”

Spike tilted his head, giving Buffy a full 30 seconds to enjoy his puzzled look before he told her “The car is out front.”

“Oh, that’s great, you won’t have far to carry me.”

“Carry you?” Spike said. And then he rushed forward to catch the falling Slayer. Cradling her limp body in his arms he sighed softly and whispered to her “Are we going to end every night like this?” Pause. “Because if so, you’re going to have to stop eating the large order of French fries.” When Buffy still lay deathly still in his arms, he said even more faintly, “A man could get use to sweeping you off your feet.”

Chapter 6: Strawberry lip-gloss should be used with caution

Conversation between Buffy and Spike, at their residence

“What the hell were you thinking, writing to our niece about us?”

“Just trying to give her the more accurate version, pet. None of that claptrap I hear you have been feeding her. ‘Dashing hero that swept you off your feet?’ Bollocks!”

“Oh, and you tell it better? What was it you told my dad when he asked why you love me?” Pause. In a patently fake British accent, “She tastes like strawberries. Besides, she sure knows how to grab a guy and sink her teeth into him. There’s no escaping then.”

“Well, you don’t like your dad all that much… besides he was crashing our wedding. Made your mum cry. It did chase him off. Pillock. Though, showing my fangs might have had something to do with that too.” Pause. “And you do taste like strawberries.”

Buffy woke up to the pleasant feeling of a soothing coolness washing over her body, taking away the fire that raged internally. She fluttered her eyes open as a damp cloth was placed gently over her brow, catching sight of beautiful blue eyes staring down at her… And the wrist dripping ruby red droplets of blood onto her lax lips.

“Spike?” she squeaked, quickly spitting the blood out.

“Some people consider it rude to spit on the floor.”

“They also consider it rude to Turn an unconscious person. Doesn’t etiquette require you to at least ask your intended victim if they wish to become a member of the Pasty Skin club?” Buffy angrily asked, trying to use her fever-weakened arms to push out of the tub she was reclining in.

Spike used one hand to hold Buffy helplessly down. “Stay still. You’re going to make it worst thrashing around like that. Next, you will be hysterically screaming your head off.” He paused as he thought about it. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy that.”

Giving Spike a ferocious death glare, Buffy ignored his cowardly aspersions and asked him, “Make what worse?”

“Your fever, pet,” Spike responded in a more serious tone. “The Tuyen’s claws are poisonous to humans, and you got a hell of a dose.”

Figured. She had a knack for finding the most venomous demons.

She looked around, still confused by her surroundings after coming out of unconsciousness so abruptly. Last thing she remembered, she was heading towards the not-so-clean diner floor at Bob’s. Now she was in a tub half filled with cold water. Spike was shirtless, damp, and bleeding slowly from his left wrist. Her own wrist was propped up on the tub ledge, with a pair of suspicious looking holes…

“Decide to have a little snack while you were ‘helping’ me?” Buffy sarcastically asked upon sighting the fang marks decorating her wrist.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Spike defended himself.

“Funny, because I think it looks like you drank from me. What is it then?”

“Ok so it is what it looks like. But it was either that, or the ropes. You might have hurt yourself if you struggled in the ropes too much.”

“Ropes? What the hell is going on Spike?”

“Look, forget the bloody ropes,” Spike yelled, frustrated. “Just be a good girl and open your mouth for some medicine,” he told her, bringing his bleeding wrist back up to her mouth.

Buffy did her best imitation of a child being forced to take nasty cough syrup, clamping her lips shut tightly and turning her head, while staring defiantly at Spike. When Spike took his wrist away she used every last bit of her strength to stand up in the tub, grabbing onto the soap holder to remain upright. “Drink your blood? Why? Is it going to help me by providing some extra protein? No thanks.”

Spike stepped into the tub, ignoring the cold water, and grabbed onto Buffy’s dripping body. He could see her legs trembling, the strain in her fever-drained frame. Stupid, stubborn Slayer.

“Let go,” he ordered, lifting her legs up and wrapping them around his waist, leaning her into the tiled wall.

Deciding this wasn’t something worth arguing over, Buffy let go of the silly soap holder and let Spike support her weight. At least now they were eye to eye. Sitting in the tub had put her at a distinct disadvantage before. Not that having her bare legs wrapped tightly around Spike’s muscled thighs was really better. Wait a minute, her bare legs? What the hell happened to her skirt?

Spike hastily spoke up to distract Buffy when he saw her glance ominously at her bare legs. “You know I can take your power if I drink a little of your blood. You can do the same if you drink mine. You could heal. So open up.” He placed one chilled finger on Buffy’s chin to encourage her.

Buffy growled quietly at his insistent finger and opened her mouth… to snap at the trespassing digit. Spike yanked his threatened finger back in time, then smirked and eyed her with interest. She had forgotten that Spike liked women who bite.

Frowning, she said, “You can heal me from a poison that YOU claim is poisonous by making me drink your blood. By lucky coincidence you can also Turn me by making me drink your blood.” She didn’t sound like she thought it was so lucky.

“We already discussed the possibility of my Turning someone like YOU.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with me? I am good enough to be Turned!” Buffy indignantly replied without thought.

Spike leaned closer and nuzzled Buffy’s neck suggestively. “Why, pet, are you asking me to Turn you? Say pretty please.”

“Ugh, Spike. No. A world of No. Now let go of me,” Buffy demanded, squirming in his restraining grip. His cold lips lingered on her overheated flesh, causing a pleasurable tingle and trail of goosebumps to rise in their wake.

Spike tore himself from Buffy’s tempting neck. He was supposed to be healing her, not indulging himself with a little playtime. “Enough talk. We don’t have all night. Without my power you’ll be dead by tomorrow.”

Dead!? What? He had said poisonous, not fatal; she was sure of it.

His omission just made her all the more suspicious. Still, feeling her fever burning even hotter as her body shivered in confusion, Buffy acknowledged that Spike might be telling the truth.

She was dying. Again. All she had to do was drink a little of Spike’s blood to get better. But what if it Turned her? Spike had drunk from her and in her fever-weakened state she couldn’t tell how much. If it was too much and then she drank his blood…

The fever had her all confused.

“No. I won’t do it. How do you know it won’t Turn me? Have you done this often? Just get me to a phone. I’ll call… call Giles. He can help me.” Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not.

“He’d never get here in time. And I won’t Turn you. I only took a few sips from you earlier. You have to be nearly drained for me to Turn you,” Spike patiently explained.

Buffy thought he probably was telling the truth. Everything. It sounded familiar. But she still wouldn’t take the chance, especially given her confused state. Oh, she might have trusted him if it was just herself at stake, but if he tricked her, and Turned her, then it would be the world at risk.

She shuddered to think what a Turned Slayer would be like, powerful and unstoppable all in one evil demon package. She told him quietly, but firmly, “No!”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get the Slayer to budge, Spike wondered how he was going to save her. He was much stronger right now, so he could force her to take his blood. He could even cover up her mouth and nose and make her swallow. But that’s not how the exchange worked.

Power could only be transferred when the blood was taken willingly. Stupid rules. Spike looked at her stubborn countenance, which was still set in a childishly obstinate expression. If she had been a child he could have wheedled her into compliance, giving her candies and smiles. How to coax a nearly grown woman into letting him have his way?

Buffy stopped struggling to get out of Spike’s embrace when it became obvious she didn’t have any chance of escape. He just held her against the wall and looked, focused, upon her face.

As the seconds ticked by Buffy became increasingly aware of her position, wrapped around Spike intimately like his wet, skin tight jeans… which were delineating every bulge of his rock-hard butt and thighs… and his…

Oh God!

Suddenly she was achingly aware of her position. And that last bulge…

She licked her lips nervously and looked away from *there*, back up to his eyes. The evil way his eyes lit up had her tensing in defence. He couldn’t read her thoughts… could he? Then Spike produced a naughty, self-satisfied smirk that told her it was the nature of *his* thoughts she should worry about.

Whoops, looked like he was scaring off the prey. Without preamble Spike brought his hands up to cup Buffy’s face. Licking his lips and looking hungrily at her mouth he admitted to her, “I’m actually glad you chose this way, pet. It’s ever so much more fun.”

Buffy’s eyes followed the journey the tip of his tongue made over his lower lip. “Fun? I so did *not* choose this. Whatever this is. Nobody told me there were options. I was asked a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ question, not multiple choice. I hate multiple choice! There’s always a trick.”

Oh, did he *have* to shift his hips like that?

Ignoring Buffy’s protests, Spike brushed her lips with his; velvety soft brushes that barely touched. She stopped breathing. Her eyes were wide open, staring guardedly at him.

He licked the tight seam where she clamped her mouth shut against him. Broke off to nip the soft lobe of her ear and whisper, “Breathe, kitten.”

As she started breathing rapidly though her nose he returned to her still closed lips. Slow, gentle, enticing kisses with quick darting tastes of her strawberry flavoured skin. Tilting his head, he tried to deepen their kiss and wondered to himself if she tasted like strawberries inside too. In his dreams she had let him kiss her thoroughly and deeply.

Everywhere.

What was he doing? Kissing her, obviously, but why? Was she dreaming?

The whole fatal wound and Vamp bite aside, this scenario wasn’t that far from her most recent midnight thoughts. Ok, so there had been some dreams with Vamp bites. But the fatal wound thing was a twist.

‘Don’t even try the dream excuse’, her conscious piped up. ‘You know this isn’t a dream. Besides, does Spike ever do *that* with his tongue in your dreams?’

Maybe I forgot, she insisted, after all, I’ve been dreaming about him for quite a while. ‘Though that might not have been the best defence. As long as she kept her mouth closed it was still just him kissing her, right? Mouth closed. Mouth closed, she chanted to herself.

Spike knew Buffy was still resisting his seduction. Or at least trying to. Not that he had done much yet, just a few tiny kisses, but her lips softened under his anyway, becoming more receptive. She tipped her face up towards him, encouraging the erotic play on her lips by his tongue. Like that, did she?

He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbled it with his blunt teeth, and was rewarded when he heard a faint mewling sound. Moving to place butterfly kisses along the softly scented skin of Buffy’s jaw, he murmured, “Lean your head back, kitten.”

Buffy told her neck muscles not to relax. She shouted it. Apparently her brain was no longer in control of her body’s functions.

You want him to keep on kissing you, her neglected brain accused. Want him to keep brushing his hands through your hair. Most of all you want him to pull your legs closer, pull you closer, to him.

But that was all, she insisted to herself. Just a few kisses and caresses. Then she would put a stop to this. Honest. God, how could somebody’s lips feel so soft yet so powerful at the same time? Her brain utterly deserted her to her downfall.

Spike felt himself rising to the occasion as he laved the skin above the Slayer’s pulse. Both the man and demon within him were already protesting his slow and gentle pace. Reigning in control over both aspects of himself, Spike opened his mouth over the skin he had so tenderly licked, taking turns between wetly sucking it, and nipping it with blunt teeth.

Buffy quietly moaned as Spike continued to tease the skin above her pulse with his cool mouth and teeth. God, it was like he could read her mind; as if he knew the danger associated with him nibbling right *there* turned her on even more.

What if he let the demon slip?

Another, rougher and sharper bite had her catching her bottom lip between her teeth to stop an expletive from escaping. It didn’t work.

Spike glanced back up at the Slayer from beneath his lashes as he heard her sharply voiced ‘Fuck.’

‘Oh baby, I will if you let me’, he thought, goaded on by her obvious loss of control.

She had a look of concentration on her face, like when you try to hold back and wait for the pleasure. Except he knew she wasn’t holding back for pleasure, she was trying to ignore it, to ignore him.

‘Luv, you don’t know what kind of challenge you’re presenting’, he thought wickedly. He needed her to open her mouth fully -just for one tiny moment- then he could slip in past her strawberry flavoured lips to taste her more deeply.

And to give her a little gift.

Buffy felt Spike lean his weight over to one side to free up one of his hands, tracing it along her side and then placing the slightly callused fingers under her shirt, caressing her taut abs. He drew leisurely circles on her skin, increasing the radius each time until his fingers were brushing just underneath her breasts.

She felt her panties dampen from more than just cold water as she pressed her hips closer to Spike in response. Her nipples tightened in expectation of his cool, practiced touch.

Spike bit back a curse himself now. He hadn’t expected his body to react so quickly and strongly to the temptation the Slayer’s lithe body presented. He had to speed things up before he lost track of his goal.

He inhaled and then breathed out harshly, trying to ignore the sweet smell of arousal that lingered in the air. Don’t breathe it in you stupid sod, you don’t even need to breathe, he reminded himself. He shifted again, supporting Buffy with a hand under her bottom as he pulled back from her forward momentum.

The move left her thighs parted enticingly in front of him as she hung loosely from his hips and made the source of her tempting musk available for play.

Buffy realized that she was open and exposed to Spike in this new position, with just her wet cotton panties protecting her lower half.

In those few moments of shock, Spike brought the hand he had been drawing circles with down and cupped her mound firmly over her panties. Flicking his middle finger up and down over the wet cotton covering her highly sensitive nub, he brought her to a swift, hard orgasm before she even had the sense to clamp her legs shut.

Tensing up as the orgasm shuddered through her body, she finally did close her thighs, tightly, but to no avail since she only succeeded in trapping his tormenting hand against her quim. As a second orgasm started before the first even ended, building on it, she forgot to keep quiet, yelling, “Oh God, Spike…”

Spike forgot his purpose as he watched the Slayer unravel beautifully while the orgasm tore though her body. It was only hearing his name shouted during her second release that brought his attention back to his purpose.

Without hesitation, he shifted and brought his mouth down on her now open one. He quickly penetrated her sweet lips with his tongue, absorbing the rest of her scream into his own mouth. His tongue duelled with hers, ensuring she was engrossed with the fiery kiss. Now, his mind shouted at him, do it, before she remembers she hates you and is no longer willing. She’s got to be willing. He changed to his Vamp face, instinctively, letting his fangs slice only his tongue, then swiftly changed back to his human features.

Buffy was still shivering with pleasure from her orgasms, nowhere near her plateau. Her brain had turned off after the second orgasm and was resolutely ignoring her pleas for cool, rational thought. There was nothing rational about this; besides, the orgasms had bypassed her brain and headed straight for the more susceptible parts of her.

Growling her pleasure, Buffy deepened the kiss even further, pulling Spike’s head down more and sucking on his teasing tongue. Wait a minute, he tastes like…

Spike felt the Slayer willingly suck on his tongue, hell, eagerly, drawing a tiny trickle of blood from the cuts he had made into her mouth and down her throat. He broke the kiss, goal accomplished, and fought every primitive urge to Claim her. Hell, to Mate her. He had to… had to… damn it; Buffy’s erratic and passionate breathing was distracting him.

Buffy stared up at Spike, knowing he had tricked her, and was frightened she would now Turn. She waited for her body to change, for the demon conversion to start…

Ok, well she *would* have thought and done all of that if Spike hadn’t had his full erection straining against his jeans and pushing demandingly against her thigh. Spike, she thought, I need… I want…

Getting a hold of himself, just barely, Spike roughly seized Buffy’s face, looking into her eyes with intense concentration.

Buffy body felt like it was slammed into by the surge of power that hit her.

Almost instantly the fever and sickness disappeared; an aggressive strength replaced the weakness they had brought about.

Healthy again, she still held onto part of Spike’s demonic power. She felt her desire increase even more, urged on by the primitive instincts of the power she borrowed. Unwrapping her thighs from Spike’s hips she dropped down to stand before him in the tub. Then, grabbing him, she yanked the stunned Vampire around and slammed him back against the tiled wall. Growling loudly, she reached up to his exposed throat.

Oh, fuck! he thought, as the out-of-control Slayer rode the high from their combined strength and tossed him against the wall. Concentrate, damnit, you can yank that power back just as easily as you gave it to her. You know the rules; you know how to control the exchange. He tried to pull her head up so he could look into her eyes, but Buffy pushed away from him, running out into the bedroom.

Chasing her, he weakly tackled her onto the bed.

The Vamp strength was too much for her. How did Spike control it? It was so primitive. So barbaric. It played on Buffy’s arousal, urging her to take from Spike what her body wanted. No matter what. It took Buffy’s desires and magnified them. It tossed out all of her inhibitions.

She had used the last of her self-will to push herself away from Spike and run out into the bedroom, away from his presence, in hopes of controlling the demonic power. But then he tumbled her into the bed.

The demon took over.

Buffy was on top of him, grinding her pelvis against his rock-hard erection, rubbing his dick to an almost painful tension that was hardly relieved by the leaking of precum. He grabbed her hips firmly, trying to hold them still despite his diminished strength.

Bloody hell. He hadn’t even given her that much of his power, but combined with her Slayer strength she easily overwhelmed him. Then she bent her head down and bit his neck with her blunt teeth. Hard. Unflinchingly. And while growling against his neck, the deep throated sound vibrating thru his skin and down his spine.

He came instantly, coating the inside of his jeans with spurts of cum.

He had reached a violent orgasm just like the Slayer, swift and intense. But, unlike her, he came down from it quickly, stimulated by the knowledge that this tiny woman had make him lose total control, something he hadn’t done since his teens.

Eyes, make her look into your eyes, his brain reminded him. She was still biting his neck, raking her nails along the flexed biceps of his arms. Fuck the eyes he thought, feeling his desire climbing once again. She won’t notice that I didn’t need to look at them; I’ll have her flipped underneath me so fast it will leave her head spinning.

Unhesitant, he concentrated and grabbed his power back from the Slayer. It came back to him forcefully, carrying the desire that had overwhelmed her back into his body. Just as she had done moments earlier, Spike flipped the Slayer under him and growled.

His growl made hers sound like the pitiful cry of a cub; danger, aggression and desire pulsated through the air.

Buffy swallowed audibly as Spike returned to his position above her. She felt the demonic power leave her body suddenly, and now was trapped under a very angry looking Spike.

He growled and vamped while she watched, shifting the focus of his yellow eyes from her own eyes to her neck. Shit.

Goaded by his demon, Spike yanked the Slayer up into a half-sitting position, her hips still straddled by him. He bent down and pierced her neck with his sharp fangs, but restricted himself to only one sip of her addictive blood. Holding on tightly, he left his fangs in her neck, waiting for her to acknowledge his dominance.

His demon had been fully aroused and now it wouldn’t accept anything less.

Buffy partly froze when Spike dragged her up and then drank from her. She only relaxed when she felt him take one sip and then do nothing else. It didn’t hurt. In fact it kind of felt… she ignored that thought.

Letting go of the strong arms that she had been gripping, she ran her hands soothingly through Spike’s hair. “Please let me down. I won’t… I won’t do anything.”

He seemed to relax marginally, but still kept his fangs sunken deep into her throat. Instinctively, she knew what to do; tilting her head back further, she bared her neck fully to him.

After taking one more pull of her blood, Spike gently laid her down on the bed, human features once more in place. He hadn’t taken any of her powers, just enough blood to ensure he could if he had to. Understanding passed between the two of them in silence.

They both continued to say nothing, unable to form words, forget coherent sentences. Spike got out of the bed, taking time to pull the blanket over Buffy. Walking towards the bathroom door and shutting it behind him he brusquely told her over his shoulder.

“Goodnight.”

Impetuous

by Hang Nga & Chanel

Chapter 7: Vampires wake up grumpy in the morning

Email from Dawn to Spike

To: Spike_07@yahoo.ca
From: Dawn.S@uotoronto.ca

Subject: Finger nibbling

SPIKE! Your voice mail is full so I’m stuck yelling at you visually. I was just called in for a conference at the school regarding Jennifer’s proposed act for their talent show. I'm meeting the same teacher that was involved in the strawberry lip-gloss incident with my oldest daughter. Finger nibbling is NOT a talent! At least not a talent that any 8 year old should have.

Spike woke up to the scents of vanilla and strawberries and the feeling of warmth and softness. He inhaled Buffy’s unique scent and was reminded of what had happened the previous night. Thus his first thought of the morning was of how beautiful Buffy had looked as she came undone in his arms. Coincidence that, it was the last thing he thought before he fell asleep, too. What had happened before and afterwards… well, that was something he would like to ignore.

He stroked one hand lazily down Buffy’s side, opening his eyes slightly when the sleeping woman pressed closer to his lean form. He bit back a quiet groan, feeling her soft, firm bottom brush against his morning hardness. Wouldn’t do to wake her and end the fun just yet. He wasn’t so sure Buffy would be as willing to ignore certain aspects of last night as he had.

Buffy mumbled his name and pressed even closer to him, rubbing the curve of her bottom against him very suggestively.

What was the Slayer doing? There was no way this was accidental. Leaning down to lick the fading bite mark he left on her neck last night he whispered, “Pet, are you looking for trouble?”

“No,” Buffy sighed, all breathy and soft, turning in his arms and looking up at him submissively. She licked her lips and smiled lazily, looking deliciously kissable.

Spike tried to pull the Slayer up so he could capture her strawberry softness in a questing kiss, but was distracted when she hesitantly licked her lips again and eyed his bare chest. Then, to his astonishment, she licked him. Long, slow strokes; interspersed with short quick tastes, starting from the bite mark she had given him and trailing down.

He opened his eyes as the Slayer’s teasing tongue paused in its descent. Looked down at Buffy on her hands and knees with her golden hair draping onto his lean hips. The fiery trace of her hot tongue on his body and the feathery brush of her hair were unbelievably erotic. He couldn’t believe that she was doing this to him. The same woman who had nearly taken his head off with a towel pole recently.

Sweet words and seduction, his brain suggested. “Pet, Baby, please. I need your mouth…” He thrust his hips up slightly, unable to think of a *sweet* way to tell her where he wanted to put his impatient cock...

Oh fuck, she was reading his mind. She breathed hot, moist air over his dick, making it bob up in response. Her fingers lightly scratched his taut balls then traced a path up to the sensitive opening of his dick. She licked the fluid that had moistened his cock from the tip of her finger. All while staring straight into his eyes.

The squeak of bedsprings made Spike break off eye contact with the seductive Slayer… wait a minute, they hadn’t squeaked last night. Eyes open! Eyes open, his brain screamed. Light streamed into their room from the door Buffy was opening. A fully dressed Buffy, with his car keys clenched in her hand, was trying to quietly open the squeaky front door -despite it’s poorly oiled hinges.

Buffy gasped, trying to get back the air that had been knocked from her lungs… then she looked up at Spike’s furious yellow eyes and forgot anything other than staring back. He reached her so fast; just moments earlier he had been slumbering deeply. One squeak later he had her slammed against the wall.

Her legs were pressed around his thighs and her hands held above her head with one of his steely arms. This position was getting to be oddly familiar with Buffy, but it was Spike’s eyes that worried her more then her particular pose. They reflected nothing but pure demon, unrestrained and pissed right off about her insubordination. A tiny whimper escaped from her lips and she wished desperately that she had moved just a little quicker, and a little more quietly.

Buffy waited nervously for Spike to do something. He looked a lot more pissed than the first time she had run off. But this was his fault; what right did he have to be pissed? What if he had turned her last night with his actions? Of course, she hadn’t been Vamped, but still, he had persuaded her to take his blood. And his method of persuasion was just another reason she had to leave. She was attracted to Spike. Head over heels, completely and madly lusting over every inch of his body. Not that she would admit it to him, arrogant bastard; he already had enough power over her.

Spike lifted the Slayer even higher, fastening his mouth over his bite mark and sucking. When Buffy tilted her head back, giving him full access to her neck, he quickly took a few drops of her blood, then looked back into her wary eyes.

Trying to sound unimpressed Buffy asked, “Is that the only way you can handle me? Suck a little blood to assert your authority over us inferior beings?”

No, I’m only this patient and gentle with a Mate, he thought, anyone else this annoying I would have killed. He almost dropped her in that moment when his demon rashly claimed her as his. At least mentally. He still had enough self-control to restrict his Claim to his thoughts only. No actual Claiming. It was ludicrous; this was the Slayer after all. Stupid demon had gone all wonky on him. It was time to regroup.

Chuckling, Spike un-Vamped and looked arrogantly at the trapped Slayer, tilting his head sideways as he considered a plan of action. “At least you got the inferior part right,” he finally said, tossing her up onto the bed.

Buffy immediately tried to get off but Spike’s voice stopped her from across the room. His calmly put “I wouldn’t move if I was you” convinced her of the wisdom of staying put. Getting out of bed this morning had been what had gotten her into trouble to begin with.

Spike got onto the bed beside her and Buffy scooted backwards, letting out a little ‘oomph’ when her head hit the backboard.

He smiled wickedly at her, asking, “Are you ok, sweetheart?” as he crawled over her tense body and straddled her thighs.

His only answer was her rapid, shallow breathing.

“Good, we wouldn’t want you to get hurt accidentally” he told her. “I’m the only one allowed to hurt you, baby” he breathed into her ear. He abruptly flipped her over onto her tummy, placed one hand at the small of her back to hold her still and caressed the curve of her bottom with the other. “Next time you test me, Slayer, I’m going to spank your naughty little bottom until you can’t sit for a week without thinking about me. I wouldn’t want to bore you by just ‘sucking a little blood’ to correct your disobedience.”

Buffy tried to twist around, outraged by his words. Spank her? Was he insane? He was going to paddle her bottom like she was a wayward child in need of correction? “The only way you’ll get your hands on my ass is when you bend down and kiss it” she told him thoughtlessly. She ignored the fact that he had his hand on said ass right now.

Smack. Spike brought his hand down with considerable strength on the Slayer’s bottom, leaving it there to absorb the warmth generated by the stinging swat. “Do you really want to *test* me now, baby?”

Just barely able to hold back her shriek as Spike gave her a taste of what her impudence would cost her, Buffy shook her head in a negative. Stupid Vamp strength. Just wait until later she thought. If he had believed that the last time she had nailed him with a well placed knee he had sung soprano, his mistake would become patently obvious when she replaced her knee with the 4 inch heel of her boot. Bloodsucking, arrogant, conniving…

Spike lowered his body onto Buffy, shocking her out of the litany of names running through her head with the feel of his cool skin seeping through her thin skirt and soothing her heated bottom.

“So tell me, Slayer, were you just going to take my car out for a spin?” Spike asked in a dangerously quiet voice, still furious about her intended morning jaunt. “Perhaps a quick run down the road for some breakfast? Maybe you had some library books that were overdue?” he continued sarcastically. “Or maybe you were stealing my car, running away, because you were frightened by what I was able to make you feel last night.” Brushing against her bottom as he said the last words, he caused Buffy to let out a tiny, telling gasp.

“I wouldn’t put it that way” Buffy replied. “Having had a taste of your… well, I decided that it wasn’t… it lacked…” -she deliberately brushed her bottom up against his crotch- “you just didn’t measure up to my standards.” Buffy finished in a mocking voice.

Spike told himself not to fall for such obvious low blows. Unfortunately her last comment left his cock more in charge than his brain. He flipped her over and stared discerningly into her eyes.

“Let me get this straight” Spike said in a calm tone that belied the anger making his body tense. “You are telling me that you *aren’t* really attracted to me?” This issue was much more important than the near theft of his car.

Buffy nervously shook her head to agree even though she knew there was a trap somewhere in his words. She tried discreetly to use her hands and elbows to push herself out from under Spike’s rigid frame.

“And that must mean that yesterday the only reason that you responded to me was because you were confused by the fever?” Spike asked carefully, grabbing onto Buffy and halting her escape.

Buffy nodded again.

“So today you wouldn’t respond to me at all because the fever is gone, right pet?” Spike whispered into her ear, challengingly.

Buffy could almost hear the trap door snap shut. She was damned no matter how she answered and she knew it. Maybe she just shouldn’t answer.

Spike wasn’t going to be put off by her silent treatment. He licked the outer shell of Buffy’s ear and told her in a low, seductive voice “Do you need me to help you make up your mind with another demonstration of my skills?” Not waiting for her answer, he jumped up off of the bed and then yanked Buffy up onto her knees, facing him. Eyeing her stubbornly set features, he finally settled his gaze on her luscious mouth, letting the corners of his own mouth twitch into a teasing smile as she pursed her lips disapprovingly. That prudish look was almost habitual now. If she knew how it only encouraged him…

Buffy clamped her lips even tighter, determined that she would ignore the feel of his lips and prove that his kisses meant nothing to her. Spike already had an ego the size of some small countries; he didn’t need her puffing it up further by acting like a lust-crazed groupie. Anyone could resist one kiss, right? Even from a blue eyed, sexily toned guy who had over a century to perfect his technique. She thanked her brain for that last helpful thought.

Spike brushed Buffy’s hair back off her face and then cupped her chin, sweeping his thumb very gently over her bottom lip. Looking deeply into her eyes, he licked his lower lip to wet it and then bit it with his blunt human teeth, slowly and purposefully, his eyes conveying all sorts of naughty thoughts to Buffy. Having gotten her complete attention, he tilted his head and then descended towards her waiting lips, pausing just barely above her mouth.

Buffy was so busy getting lost in Spike’s eyes while trying to simultaneously keep track of where his mouth was headed, that it startled her when he brushed the fingers of his right hand against her left arm. However, it was when he trailed his fingers softly down her arm, and lifted her own hand up towards his lips, that she truly realized how much she had underestimated him. Buffy had been prepared to ignore the taste and feel of his mouth on her own, at least for a few moments, but she had no defence prepared to guard against the unforeseen, dangerous feel of his silky lips on the back of her sensitive hand.

Spike grazed his lips against the smooth, delicate skin on the top of Buffy’s hand, moving towards the tip of her middle finger with a series of butterfly kisses. When he reached his destination he sucked the entire digit into his cool, moist mouth in a blatantly dominant and challenging move.

Buffy inhaled sharply when Spike abandoned his slow, subtle kisses to swallow her finger into his cool mouth, flicking his tongue over it as he slid it in. He increased the pressure, sucking his cheeks inwards as he pulled her finger further in and outlined the beautiful curve of his cheekbones to her gaze. The pull from the negative pressure on her finger created havoc in all sorts of ‘restricted areas’. To Buffy’s dismay her body began to yield to Spike’s erotic attention to her digit. She shifted her legs, trying to keep her thighs close together to stem the sudden slipperiness materializing. There wasn’t anything she could do about her peaked nipples but hope that Spike wouldn’t look ‘there’.

Spike looked. And smiled around her finger. Looking back into Buffy’s eyes, he distracted her with a hot glance that told her how much he appreciated her response. Meanwhile, his free hand sneaked around to grasp Buffy’s right hip and yanked her body flush against his own. Before she could struggle out of this new intimacy, Spike turned his body slightly and fell backwards onto the bed, pulling Buffy down with him.

Buffy stared down at the hard chest that suddenly made up her line of vision, as she sprawled over the unexpectedly horizontal Spike. Pushing up against his chest with her only free hand -Spike was still sucking lazily on the middle digit of her left hand- she tried to sit half up. Only to freeze moments later when she realized that in her current position she was straddling him and her movements had placed her in an all-too-obvious pose above him.

Spike had to clench the sheets at his side with his own free hand to stop himself from wrapping it around Buffy’s hip and urging her down the last few inches separating them. Instead, he pulled her finger out of his mouth and licked the little bit of skin between her middle and ring finger. He trailed his tongue down her palm, swirling it around the sweat-dampened whorls as he headed towards her fragile wrist. Once there he nipped and sucked the thin layer of skin, leaving barely visible love-marks colouring her inner wrist. Then staring right into her eyes, he boldly Vamped and let one of his fangs lightly graze over a tiny blue vein. Just as quickly un-Vamping he leaned back to watch Buffy’s response.

Buffy felt her inner muscles clench down in need as she capitulated to Spike’s unusual seduction. When Spike bit her last night it had turned her on despite his obvious intimidation tactics. Spike inhaled noisily as if he knew she was aroused by the suggestion of another bite and that she had relented to his erotic kisses in that very moment. Buffy watched as his pupils dilated and his irises flashed a hint of yellow, revealing that his Vamp senses had picked up the scent of her arousal. It was primitive, possessive and it made her so very wet. She closed her eyes against his perceptive stare.

Spike was done playing with the Slayer. He had taken a slightly submissive pose, licking her finger while lying under her, toying with her senses by doing the unexpected. But his rapidly climbing arousal demanded that he flip her under him where he could more easily strip away the rest of her senses in a sensual onslaught. With his considerable experience he could have her screaming his name, in fact, screaming anything he wanted, within five minutes. He moved to roll Buffy under him.

Spike’s tensing muscles gave away his intent to flip her under him where he could do a lot more then just suck her finger and lick her wrist. That thought spurred Buffy nervously into action. “Stop Spike.”

Surprisingly, Spike released her immediately. He probably surprised himself more than her but he knew he had made his point. She couldn’t deny that he had managed to provoke a response from her. Pushing her further would just risk her fighting against him. Better to stop now that she had acknowledged her attraction to him, or at least her body had. There would be later, he promised himself. Giving himself a moment to get his own arousal under control, he turned to her and said very matter-of-factly “I’m going to have a shower.”

When Buffy stayed sitting at the foot of the bed not facing him, he got up and grabbed the rope from his bag. Guess she wasn’t up for shower games yet. He tied Buffy to the bed, sitting her against the backboard and securing her arms behind her back. All the time hiding the smirk on his lips. Not interested? Piffle! She just needed time to adjust. He eyed Buffy’s bound form and let his smirk widen into a full-fledged smile. She could have all the time she needed.

“The rope has a spell on it. Makes the knots tighten the more you struggle. Don’t,” he told Buffy, finally letting her see his cocky smile. It amused him to see her lips curl into an angry growl. Although, a niggling question of the wisdom in taunting the Slayer stayed in the back of his mind, taking the edge off his pleasure. He checked her bonds once more, feeling a little uneasier, then headed towards the bathroom for his shower.

Just before entering the bathroom, he turned around and said threateningly, “I will always be able to track you down. I know how you taste, how you smell. You can’t run fast enough or hide from me. So, pet, you don’t want to test me like that again. Ever.”

Buffy simply stared mental stakes at Spike’s retreating back. Bloodsucking, arrogant, conniving...

Chapter 8: Always lock the bathroom door

Email to Giles from Spike,

Watcher,
I don’t know why Buffy thought you could tell the nibblet’s youngest about how she and I fell in love. Imagine a refined Englishman like yourself trying to explain anything involving me to a young girl. Then remember that her favourite word is ‘why.’ She never outgrew that. Moreover, you don’t even know that much about what happened during our courting. For example, I bet you aren’t even aware of the appalling state of some of the showers in the motels we stayed in. Whoever installed the plumbing in motel #2 should be shot. Twice.

Spike had calmed down considerably after smacking the impertinence out of the Slayer and then leaving her tied up to stew a bit. The kiss afterwards, well that was just a bonus, but it would have been better if his stubborn Slayer could admit out loud that she wanted him. The Slayer, he corrected himself, even though he knew it was useless. Once a woman caught the attention of his demon it was either kill her or Claim her. Or Mate her. He thought of how long he had remained obsessed with Dru before she had violently ended their association. And thanks to said bint, he couldn’t kill the Slayer without doing himself in also, leaving him with only one option. Well two, but the latter was preposterous. But…

Fuck that.

As long as he stopped his demon from Mating her he could enjoy the benefits of being forced to stay around the Slayer –temporarily- and then take off when he finally figured a way out of this mess. He probably should stay away from Claiming as well… that could easily lead to something more permanent. He shuddered at the thought of being tied to that impulsive, dim-witted woman with her… sexy strawberry lips and hot pink tongue. Ugh, stupid dream.

Spike glanced down at his unrepentant erection, thinking about the bite mark the Slayer had placed on him last night. He could still feel the one she had placed on him during their tussle in the other motel bed, but this one was much more significant. This one she had given to him in passion. Although she didn’t know, it was the kind of bite that signalled she wanted to be Claimed and more, begged his demon to answer her challenging bite with his own, a Mating bite.

Gripping his cock firmly in one hand, he closed his eyes and gave it a few brisk strokes, remembering how close he had come to Claiming her that night.

“Spike hurry the hell up.”

I am baby, he thought. He didn’t dignify her command with a verbal reply. Snotty Queen Buffy was already yelling orders at him again. Maybe he didn’t smack her ass hard enough. Deciding that he could muffle out her orders better in a steaming shower, he turned on the water and stepped under the spray.

Buffy was gleefully thinking that Spike had slipped and fallen onto something wooden, given the silence coming from the bathroom. William the Bloody, done in by the cheap wooden handle of a toilet plunger. Unfortunately, she heard the shower turn on and that theory was tossed. The bastard is just ignoring me. Bloodsucking, arrogant, conniving…

As her mental anger overflowed into a physical reaction in her body, making her blood pressure rise and her breathing increase, she noticed the ropes tightened. Magic ropes that tighten if you struggle eh? Well she hadn’t struggled; her body had just acted as if she was engaged in physical activity. That was the thing about magic; it always was very specific. It seemed like the spell on the ropes responded to the physiological changes in her body common to exertion and not actual movement.

Buffy concentrated on sensing her body’s level of physical arousal and then tenaciously lowering it with techniques she had learned during meditation. Thank you Giles. The ropes slackened on her wrists and then fell off.

She rubbed her wrists and then bounded off the bed, heading towards the bathroom door. This time she wouldn’t run off when his back was turned. Buffy realized that he would chase after her and then they would be in the same dilemma again. He had threatened as much just 10 minutes ago. She would accept his authority to the barest degree necessary, given that he did know more about the current situation then she did. That meant she would follow him if she was *convinced* he was right, but that she wasn’t going to tag behind him like some insignificant minion. No more tying her up and stealing her powers. She wanted him to understand that the only way he was going to get her to listen to him, short of fighting her every inch of the way, would be to treat her as an equal, as…

‘Oh My God. What is he doing in that shower?’ she thought, getting an eyeful of Spike pleasuring himself though the glass shower door. His eyes were closed and he was stroking his hand single-mindedly over his cock, brushing his fingers over the top each time he reached the head. For the first time Buffy really got a good look at Spike’s body. All of it.

He was so hot.

She noticed his face tightening even more as he got closer to coming. Tearing her eyes away from the stimulating sight, she mischievously reached over and flushed the toilet. That would get him for leaving her tied up. Seeing him lunge out of the suddenly cold shower, Vamped due to the shock of it, she suddenly felt as if her bum stung a lot less.

“Don’t even think about doing that in the shower. I still have to get in there after you. Pig.”

Spike relaxed his features back to human, taking his time to absorb the message the Slayer was obviously trying to send him. Well that was after he repeated ‘killing her will dust you’ 10 times in his head. No rope and yet she was here in the bathroom, not half way down the street. She had asserted her displeasure with the current situation by wilfully ruining what had promised to be a mind-blowing orgasm. His dick urged him to lean the Slayer against the wall and let her help him finish what she had so rudely interrupted. Luckily for her, the dousing his dick had received left his brain more fully in control of his actions.

“Well, pet, it seems the shower is all free for you to enjoy.” He couldn’t help it if his voice sounded a bit bitter on the word ‘enjoy.’ He didn’t mention the ropes or anything else, silently telling her all she needed to know with one loaded look and heading out of the bathroom. Dripping wet.

He slammed the door.

Chapter 9: Goldilocks was a very bad girl with a potty mouth

Messages left on Spike’s Cell phone from Giles,

Message 1 – 10:00am: Quite frankly, Spike, Buffy didn’t want a repeat of what her oldest niece went through when you told her a story about your ‘courting’ after consuming a prodigious amount of alcohol. In case you don’t remember let me remind you of the incident. Dawn’s oldest… who was only 7 at the time… told everyone at the breakfast table the next morning your version of Goldilocks. You know the one with
BEEP
Message 2 – 10:01am: Stupid machines. You should set the time longer for messages. Anyways, the next morning we all heard about Goldilocks and the Big Bad Vamp. There was spanking, a monkey and an actual dead body involved. Thank God that sweet girl didn’t understand what she was talking about. Although the teacher at school certainly did when she told the story during show and tell. She showed strawberry lip
BEEP
Message 3 – 10:02am: You purposely set the time this short didn’t you? Are you sitting there right now, laughing?
SLAM (hang up)
Message 4 – 5:33pm: The girl does have a bad habit of asking ‘why.’ Did you know that the deluxe version of Webster’s contains some words that really aren’t appropriate for a nine year old? I’m going to be visiting England for a bit… so you can finish telling her the rest of the story. Just don’t mention it to Buffy, Ok? Or Dawn.
BEEP

“Hurry up, we’re going shopping.” Spike yelled at the bathroom door.

Buffy, just finishing her shower, turned the taps off. She deserved a long shower to help get rid of the tensions the last couple days had raised. Showers were useful in providing multiple ways to relieve tension. Multiple times.

Their overheated little room was becoming unbearable. The last few days had been tense, with the two of them exchanging insults as well as glances. At least, Buffy *thought* Spike was looking at her when she wasn’t watching. She would feel goosebumps rise on the back of her neck and arms and would turn around only to see Spike staring somewhere else in the room. Having employed that tactic herself she viewed him in a suspicious manner.

But Spike hadn’t tried to push himself on her after his unexpected cold shower. That was fine by her, she insisted to herself. She wasn’t interested. Well, maybe a little. Ever since he had seduced her into taking a little of his blood she had been thinking about other parts of him she would like to ‘take in.’ Damn him. But just thinking. Thoughts were not bad as long as they didn’t lead to actions. Nobody got in trouble over thoughts. Right?

The two of them had settled into an uneasy relationship that Buffy was afraid to spoil. Spike didn’t tie her up, although he did drink from her each morning and night, as well as before he’d left the motel room tonight. Buffy hadn’t left the room except for when she went for a walk around the parking lot to ward off boredom. Spike had picked a motel on the outskirts of town within walking distance of the diner across the road and nothing else. And he wasn’t sharing his car. Yet.

Spike persistently knocked on the door and tried to open it when he didn’t hear any signs of her hurrying. It was locked. Why hadn’t he thought of that earlier?

Hearing Spike rattle the doorknob impatiently, Buffy turned towards her dirty clothes lying beside the sink and reluctantly put them on. She opened the door, not trusting the hothead Vamp to wait much longer.

“Took you long enough” he complained, taking in her relaxed appearance. Wait a minute, she looked *relaxed*, like a kitten that had lapped up a bowl of cream – before it realized that cream wasn’t really all that good for kitties.

Spike stepped into the steamy bathroom, obtrusively sniffing the air for evidence of the Slayer’s indulgent play, but was overpowered by the stench that came from behind him. He turned around, looking offensively at the pungent Slayer. The heat and steam had really managed to bring to attention the state of Buffy’s only apparel.

Buffy managed to look oblivious to the insult she had given Spike’s nose. She walked over to the bed and picked up the car keys Spike had tossed when he came in. “Do you think I could drive a bit?”

“No.” Spike grabbed the keys from her hopeful hands, picked up his bag and indicated that she should follow him out.

Not liking the whole follow-the-leader tone she was getting from him, Buffy rushed ahead in pretence of wanting to open the door for him.

Spike snarled as the door slammed unexpectedly in his face. He heard the scampering of running feet and the Slayer’s giggles. So the brat wanted to play, did she?. She had an irresistible giggle. He wrenched the door open with a growl that made half the motel guests check for lightning outside; the other half duck in anticipation of an earthquake.

Buffy squealed in half-pretend fear, running towards the parking lot when Spike gave chase. She reached the car first but found it was locked, then threw a look over her shoulder to spy the monster chasing her close behind. This was so much better than sitting on the motel bed, watching pay-per-view. She felt younger than she had been allowed to for quite a long time.

Spike dropped his bag on the ground and grabbed the Slayer from behind, trapping her between the car and himself. Listening to her breath harshly with exertion, excitement and a tiny bit of fright, he seized both of her hands in one of his and reached out with the other to twirl a single strand of her damp golden hair to dryness. He could already feel the tension that had developed between him and Buffy melt away as he participated in the game. She was having fun.

“What are you going to do now, Goldilocks?” he asked, pulling gently on the strand he captured. “Now that the Big Bad has you in his clutches” he continued, biting her earlobe gently with his blunt, human teeth. He held an unneeded breath while waiting to see if Buffy would take him up on his ‘invitation.’ Being trapped with her in that tiny room, unable to touch her as he dreamed, had been a hellish torture akin to the torments Dru liked to deal out. Now that she was in a playful mood…

Buffy felt aroused, despite thoroughly having satisfied her needs earlier. Feeling bold, she stepped into the role Spike had created, turning her head to look teasingly into his eyes. “I’ll just have to convince you to let me go,” she said, licking her lips nervously. She ignored the little voice inside her telling her how ‘bad’ she was being. One look at his sinful blue eyes and she was ready to do all sorts of ‘bad’ things. She wanted to find out just what kind of secrets he was hiding behind his azure gaze.

Buffy’s stomach growled loudly, causing Spike to loosen his grip in surprise.

“Didn’t Goldilocks get to eat three bowls of porridge *before* she was caught?” Buffy reminded him, turning fully in his arms to face him.

“If I feed you will you try to run away or will you let me teach my little Goldilocks a lesson? Bad girl she is, sneaking into places and stealing stuff that isn’t hers.” He squeezed Buffy’s bottom and lifted her slightly, bringing their faces closer together.

Buffy, caught up in the role play, had started to anticipate letting the Big Bad catch her in their motel room later. But then he touched her bottom and she felt mild panic beset her. “Um,” she hesitated, and then said so quietly that even Spike had to strain to hear, “only if you don’t…”

Spike, reading her mind, chuckled into her ear telling her “I won’t spank you, baby, at least not that kind of spanking. I promise I will only play with Goldilocks. It’s the naughty Slayer that earn’s a sore bottom if she misbehaves.”

Buffy made a sound that started out as a sigh of relief but ended up as a growl of displeasure. Why did she ever think *this* would work? That arrogant, fanged, pathetic excuse for a… Suddenly thinking of something wicked she gave Spike an impish grin, nodding her approval of the idea.

“You promise?” she asked him. She tried to look timid and afraid, Goldilocks trembling in fear of the Big Bad. Actually, the tremble was to cover the involuntary movements she made as she fought off a fit of laughter. ‘Yes,-Mr-fly,-come-into-my-web,’ laughter.

Spike felt her tremble, but he also spotted her devilish little grin, so he decided to shock the naughty Slayer hiding behind Goldilocks. He bent down to her neck, Vamping when she wasn’t watching, and slid his fangs ever so gently down the column of her throat. Then he quickly un-Vamped and kissed her lips, trembling himself with a bit of real trepidation now, softly swearing against her strawberry skin that he promised to only *play* with Goldilocks.

Hearing Buffy’s tummy growl again, he slowly slid her down to the ground and unlocked the door for her. As he walked around to the other side of the car, he heard Buffy yell out “Good, ‘cause Goldilocks just wants to let you know that the only spanking you’re going to be doing will involve a monkey named “Mr. Cum in my Pants like an Adolescent...” She mumbled the rest under her breath when Spike actually entered the car.

Dubious that the Slayer actually had the audacity to say that to him he asked her “What did you say?”

Buffy smiled at Spike, telling him “Well it wasn’t something *I* said… just Goldilocks said… something about spanking, a monkey and premature ejaculation.” She said the last part with a squeak because Spike had his hands wrapped around her throat and wasn’t just pretending to strangle her.

“Goldilocks… Promise… No kill” Buffy managed to hiss from her tortured throat.

Spike let go reluctantly, telling the wheezing Slayer “Oh, I wasn’t trying to kill Goldilocks, I was just trying to get rid of that pesky Slayer. She’s a bad influence on my sweet Goldilocks.”

Buffy wisely held her opinion on the matter back, using the time Spike took to drive downtown to rub her mistreated throat. Bloodsucking, arrogant, conniving...

Inside his head Spike was cursing the Slayer for having a big mouth, and for having noticed his lack of control the other night. Vamp-staking, arrogant, conniving...

Chapter 10: Full coverage medical was created for designer clothes salesmen

Phone conversation as heard at Buffy’s and Spike’s residence.

Hi Sweet Pea. I hear you’ve been talking to your uncle Giles.
(Pause. Evil chuckle.)
Yes, Sweet Pea. You said everything right. Followed the plan…(Pause) Um, your aunt is here and she wants to say hi.
(Muffled conversation)
--Eavesdropping pet?
Give me the phone Spike!--
(Crashing sound)
And how is my most inquisitive niece today?
Mmm… I’m glad that you’re enjoying my letters. Did uncle Spike send you another one, too?
He did? Stealing, murder and gluttony eh? That covers quite a few sins.
Ok, sweetie, your uncle and I are going to write another letter for you straight away.
That’s right. I’m sharpening my pencil right now.
(Muffled voice further away)
--Pencils are supposed to have lead in them, pet. That looks suspiciously like a…--
We’ll call you back tonight when we’ve finished. Say hi to your mom for me, OK? And let her know that I’m taking care of that little pest problem we were talking about. Bye sweetie.
Click

Looking around at all the darkened store windows Buffy asked, “Where are we going to shop?”

“Here” he answered, parking the car and cutting the engine.

Buffy glanced at the dark store, then back at Spike. “Um… it looks kind of closed.”

“I know the security code,” he said in a reasonable sounding voice as he got out of the car and headed to the front door.

Buffy let herself out of the car and purposefully left it unlocked in retaliation for his slighting her and not bothering to open her door. Not that his car was worthy of being stolen.

Stolen… Money… Shopping? “How are we going to pay for the” –she looked through the window- “clothes?”

Spike glared at her condescendingly. “We’re not going to pay. We are going to steal, just like I stole the code to get in here in the first place. Now, I’ve picked out some things for you –none of them silly little skirts you can barely kick in,” he commented, looking disparagingly at Buffy’s current outfit. “But still, you might want to pick out some things yourself. However, first there’s something I need to tell you before… Slayer stop. Don’t go in there yet.”

Stealing is bad. Stealing is bad, Buffy thought, even as she stepped through the door Spike had just opened. She ignored what he was saying, as usual. Stealing is bad. Stealing is bad. She sniffed the sleeve of her well-worn outfit and amended that thought; Stealing is naughty. Stumbling, she looked down and saw that she had tripped over a man’s arm.

An arm. Still attached to the dead body. With fang marks in his neck. Murder is very bad.

Buffy backed up quickly, running right into Spike, who was closing the door behind her. She struggled to get away as he closed his arms around her.

Spike turned Buffy around so he could explain what she had seen. Which was a mistake. He realized that as he fell into a rack of clothing when Buffy kicked him across the room.

“You lying, bloodsucking fiend. I really hope you enjoyed your last meal,” she yelled, picking up a wooden chair sitting by the dressing rooms, and smashing it to form a stake.

Spike jumped up, yellow eyes flashing at the impromptu weapon in the Slayer’s hand. This wasn’t good. Fuck, why hadn’t he taken some of her blood before they left? He tried to call her power to him anyway, even though he felt a lack of connection to her Slayer-strength. But then, as he caught her hazel gaze and held it with his intense yellow one, he saw the Slayer freeze.

Buffy stopped advancing on Spike when he looked into her eyes, concentrating just like he did every other time he had stolen her power. Overwhelmed with the sudden fear of facing this deadly demon without her slayer strength, she panicked and closed her eyes to stop him. It was only moments later –much too late- that she realized closing her eyes around a Vamp -especially one you had just threatened to stake- was not the most brilliant idea.

Spike gasped in shock as the Slayer actually closed her eyes while he was stalking her. Foolish bint. Didn’t she know nasties like him wouldn’t quibble over taking her when she was unawares? Must be Goldilocks rubbing off on his brave Slayer this time. Surely the Slayer wouldn’t act so stupidly? Spike’s brain eagerly answered that mental question.

Hurrying, before she decided to open her eyes, Spike closed the distance between them and knocked the stake out of her hand. That made her open her eyes, but he already had his fangs in her neck, drawing her blood even as she fought to push him away. She didn’t manage to push him far, so he just grabbed her arm and yanked her to him, looking directly into her eyes and concentrating to pull away her power.

Buffy slumped against Spike as he sucked her strength away. Again. He threw her unresisting body over his left shoulder and then picked up a stack of clothing piled on the cashier table, heading back to the car. Leaning her against the rear door, he opened the trunk and stashed the clothing inside. Then he picked her up and took her back into the store, carrying her over to the man still lying on the floor.

Buffy watched as Spike picked up her unresisting hand and placed her fingers at the man’s slow but steady pulse in his neck. Slow but steady. Blushing, she realized that the man wasn’t dead. Well, he was gravely injured though; obviously Spike must have nearly drained him.

Spike took a little package of powdered herbs from his pocket. At least, she thought they were herbs. He sprinkled a tiny pinch of then under the man’s nostrils. The man woke up.

Buffy, still half-leaning against Spike’s body for support, was surprised. She looked up into his blue eyes and was jolted by the return of her power.

“Sir, are you OK?” Spike asked the somewhat groggy salesman. He helped the man to his feet and steadied him. “My wife and I saw your store door was open when we drove by and we were worried that something had happened. Then we found you lying on the floor, unconscious.”

The man focused on Spike, saying “I was closing up the store and then… someone attacked me from behind. His voice was muffled and he asked for the entrance code to the store. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“Well, it looks like someone robbed your store” Buffy said, guiltily, trying to help Spike out.

The man, who was rapidly gaining back his coordination, walked around his store, observing the damage. The damage that Spike and Buffy had caused.

“I’m not sure what happened to you, sir, but it looks like you were knocked unconscious and then you fell on something” Spike said, touching the bite marks on the man’s neck. You should go to the hospital and get checked out, X-Rays, blood work and everything.”

“Rabies shot too,” Buffy sweetly added under her breath.

“What did you say miss?” the man asked.

“Um… I said you should get a tetanus shot. You know, in case it was a nail that punctured your neck. A rusty nail from… um… the broken chair over there. Goodness, vandals can be so destructive.”

After getting reassurances from the man that he would visit the nearest hospital that night, Buffy and Spike got into the car.

“Spike, what…?”

“Tetanus shot?” Spike shouted, interrupting. “Maybe we should rush you to the hospital too, since you’ve also been bitten by my rabid self.”

Buffy ignored his outrage and insincere comment, counterattacking. “I thought we had an agreement. No killing or snacking on people. I definitely think this qualifies as snacking, if not a botched kill.”

“If I had wanted to kill that guy, he would be dead, and you never would have known. I wasn’t snacking on him either. I didn’t even bite him.”

“Spike, I saw your fang-marks in his neck” Buffy told him disbelievingly.

“No, you saw fang-marks in his neck. Not mine. While you were having your marathon shower, I drove around downtown searching for some young Vamps on the prowl. A lot of the newer Vamps are vain; they come from the material-generation, with Gap shirts and whatnot. Most of them can’t go long without placing a few shop owners on the menu, especially trendy clothing shop owners. It’s a high-risk profession really. Anyways, I just followed a few Vamps on the kill and interrupted them before they did too much damage. You should be thanking me. I never promised to stop other Vamps from enjoying their snacks.”

Buffy interrupted, unable to swallow the whole ‘she should be thanking him’ bit. The rest, however, she had to admit had a ring of truth to it. “If you haven’t been snacking on people, then where are you getting your blood from? I haven’t seen you feed.”

“Since Friday night it has just been a few sips of yours. If you think your stomach was growling earlier then you should come have a listen to mine.

Buffy eyed his stomach dubiously. She didn’t even know if stomachs functioned in Vampires.

“Well, if it did growl, it would be louder than yours” he said defensively. He wouldn’t admit that the few sips of Slayer’s blood were holding off the worst of his hunger. There was so much power in her blood.

“What are you going to eat, then?”

Spike noticed she said ‘what’ and not ‘who.’ “Well, I kinda hoped you would help me steal some banked blood, since I helped you steal some clothes.”

“I didn’t steal them… you put them in the trunk.” Although, they had been rather nice clothes… from what she had glimpsed. Not that she would admit it to him.

“Bloody hell, Slayer. You’re the one insisting on the plastic sealed liquid diet. I at least demand that you provide the bagged nourishment.”

“First, tell me what was in the herb-stuff you used to wake the guy up.”

Spike sighed. She was stalling, trying to avoid a yes or no. Nevertheless, he explained. “It’s a special powder that helps humans heal faster. I got it for you when I first found out about our special connection. It’ll even speed up your Slayer-healing, although it won’t fix anything that your own healing can’t eventually do on its own. That’s why I didn’t use it when the Tuyen’s poison attacked your body. That would normally be fatal and there wasn’t anything the Granciana powder could have done to change that. Besides, the stuff will make you really sleepy. Last for days in severe cases. It’s best for speeding up recovery time so you can make a quick escape to somewhere you can recuperate and rest. Now, are we going to get me some dinner, or what?”

Annoyed that all Spike’s answers seemed reasonable and left her with no excuse to refuse his request for a little assistance in some B & E, she just grunted out a single “fine!”

Chapter 11: Saying ‘stay here’ is as effective as saying ‘don’t look down.’

PPI (Post-Pencil Incident)
Letter from Spike to his niece; found inside the cover of the new CD he sent her:

Hey Sweet Pea,

I decided to continue writing you my own letters, separate from your aunt Buffy. It doesn’t seem like our efforts to write you a joint version are going to work. Having to pick the slivers out of my side after your aunt tripped and poked me with her pencil is the least of my problems with that venture. Perhaps you shouldn’t tell anyone about these letters though, just to be cautious.
… Your aunt is pretty cranky when she is hungry. And she’s hungry a lot. One time she actually stole these two guys lunches at the hospital. She didn’t even thank them either! Did I even mention the incident of truck vandalism that night?

“Why do these guys always deliver at night? Don’t you think that they would’ve learned by now?” Buffy bitterly complained, eyeing the two blood bank workers.

Spike just ignored the grumpy Slayer and started sneaking up behind the workers. He had to take them out before the hospital realized their delivery was here. Then security would tighten up. He looked back at Buffy and signalled for her to wait, missing the movement of three other Vamps around the other side of the truck.

Buffy didn’t miss the other Vamps. She ran towards a very annoyed looking Spike and yanked him behind a parked car in the lot. Unfortunately, Spike didn’t take kindly to her interference.

“What the hell are you doing Slayer? That’s my dinner… um, the, ah, key to my dinner… walking away. The objective here is to…

“Not get killed.” Buffy interrupted.

Spike scoffed, brushing her hands off of him. “I think I can handle a couple of humans, Slayer.” Looking at her aggravated features, he figured she was actually more worried about him killing the workers in order to ‘handle’ them.

“Pet, I’ll just give them a little tap on the head. I need to get their keys.” He looked anxiously at the workers as they approached the receiving door. “I have to do it now,” he told her distractedly, pushing away.

Buffy leaped up, lightening fast, and flipped Spike onto the ground, following his body down with her own. She leaned over to his ear and hissed, “There are three more Vamps behind the truck, you bleached moron.”

Spike ignored her insult and her tempting body above him, concentrating to hear the other Vamps. Frustrated by the limits of his human senses, he Vamped and let his demon senses pick out the footfalls of the intruding Vamps. As he heard the workers let out muffled cries he rolled Buffy over and looked straight into her eyes. “Stay here, Slayer. I’ll take care of it.” He paused a moment to let her know how serious he was.

Buffy automatically ignored Spike’s command to ‘stay put’ and crept up behind the Vamps from the opposite direction. She wasn’t a good little puppy dog, obedient to Spike’s every command. It wasn’t in her nature to sit back and let others do her work.

And, despite her absence from the Hellmouth, dusting Vamps was definitely her work.

Spike burst out of the shadows to take out the first Vamp and she leaped into the ensuing confusion. Her momentum carried her straight into the path of the last Vamp, who was fleeing Spike’s destructive presence. She kicked the frightened Vamp into the wall, but was denied the pleasure of finishing him off when Spike picked him up and broke his neck. Spoilsport. He obviously didn’t like to share.

“You are the most disobedient brat I’ve ever been saddled with.” Spike complained, upset that she had risked her neck when he had told her to stay away from the fight.

“I would rather be a disobedient brat then a senile, incompetent, washed-up Vamp who can’t even pick up the presence of three noisy fledglings five feet away.” Buffy ignored the fact that the Vamps hadn’t been noisy nor fledglings nor five feet away. The ‘saddled with’ part really got under her skin.

She stomped over to him and said, “In fact, you’re *lucky* that you were *burdened* with this brat since it’s obvious that you lack even the most basic observation skills. An entire army of Vamps could have stomped through here and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“I knew they were there.” Spike lied. “I had a plan but you ruined it when you pulled me from behind and *tripped* me.”

Buffy gasped in outrage. He made it sound like she had deliberately disrupted his ‘plan’ and then implied she did it in a backhanded way. Tripping him indeed. You didn’t label that kind of expert martial arts move a common ‘trip.’

He ignored her gasp and said, “Luckily I had taken out the two strongest Vamps before the only fledgling –he looked her right in the eye when he imparted this fact- happened to run right into your foot. I suppose you were going to stake him with your…” Spike looked at the Slayer, questioningly.

“I don’t need a weapon. You’re not the only one capable of breaking necks.” She looked at Spike disdainfully. “I can employ that… *primitive* method if necessary. Remember the Tuyen demon?”

Spike’s eyes flashed yellow as Buffy said the word ‘primitive’. That spoiled, haughty, contemptuous…. He was going to shove her Princess attitude right up her royal ass.

A sudden hunger pain distracted him from making diabolical plans for the insulting Slayer. As much as he enjoyed putting her in her place –and he could think of several such suitable places- they really needed to get moving. He couldn’t ‘set her straight’ right now, but at least he could put her to work. He gave her a wicked smirk as he thought about delegating menial duties to her, the Slayer..

“Grab about 15 bags of blood and put them in the cooler I have in the back seat,” he ordered. When she didn’t move he impatiently snapped out, “Now!”

“And what are you going to be doing?” she asked, not impressed with him sticking all the physical labour on her. Besides, she was enjoying their sparring. Not that she would ever tell him so. Anyway, it was his food and she didn’t see how it suddenly became her responsibility. Never mind that Spike had brought some food for her to the hotel room. It hadn’t been enough.

“I’m going to rob them,” he said frankly, bending down to search for their wallets. He had noticed their heartbeats when he stood over them and figured he should do something to cover their tracks. “When they wake up, or when they are found, they will assume that this was a mugging. It won’t hide the fact that some blood is missing but it will at least be a distracter during an investigation.”

Pausing as he found the first worker’s wallet, he added, “Not that they are ever going to trail us. We won’t even be in this city tomorrow.” ‘And it will give me money for gas’, he thought to himself but refrained from mentioning. Buffy didn’t need to know how ‘on the run’ they really were.

Buffy -only half-heartedly listening to Spike’s explanation since it was obvious that he wasn’t going to help her fetch the blood- focused back on Spike “We’re leaving LA? Where to?”

“Away from here.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Her pose screamed ‘I’m not moving a finger until you explain.’ So much for the ‘opportune moment.’

Spike felt another hunger pain and decided to give her a few more details. Tell her something while really saying nothing at all. Because if she really knew where they were going….

“I thought we head up the highway and get the ‘bounty hunters’ off our trail. We can’t stay here much longer.”

Buffy didn’t look satisfied by his explanation, if anything, she looked even more upset. ‘Shit, she’s going to figure it out’, he thought. He needed a distraction. Quick! Not surprisingly, his brain (or perhaps he shouldn’t blame that organ) came up with an immediate suggestion. Hey, at the very least, it would get Buffy closer to the truck, he justified before approaching her. Besides, their little Goldilocks game earlier had shown him she wasn’t totally unreceptive to his advances.

Buffy’s stubborn expression faltered as Spike suddenly walked over to her. Following surprise, a little nervousness flashed over her features. Spike was so unpredictable, for all she knew he was going to…

He inhaled her scent, nostrils flaring slightly as he crowded her. She still didn’t back up, although she did look up at him. The corners of his mouth twitched up. Her mulish expression was being replaced by wariness but her stance was still all aggression, even if it was false bravery. She didn’t trust him for a second and probably wanted to reach for the nearest weapon. Smart girl.

Buffy’s thought process slowed down as Spike bent towards her, lips inches from her own. She didn’t get as distracted as he had obviously hoped for, however. His cocky attitude needed to be taken down several pegs, preferably by her. He was trying to use the oldest ploy in the book, kiss the girl senseless and then take advantage.

Seconds before he reached for her, Buffy saw his eyes glance over her shoulder to the truck behind her. She simply grabbed him first and threw him into the truck. Then she threw herself at him, moulding her curves to his hard body, and kissed him senseless.

Spike grunted as his back smacked into the truck’s side. That was going to leave a dent, on both him and the truck. Then the Slayer wrapped her sweet smelling body around his and he forgot all about his aching back. It occurred to him that things weren’t going exactly as planned. His brain rationalized that Buffy wasn’t asking any more questions and they were at the truck. Well leaning against it actually, but this wasn’t the time to quibble over details.

A couple of moans from the men on the ground had the couple springing apart quickly, simultaneously clearing their throats as they prepared to face each other. With serious, I-wasn’t-that-distracted faces that actually looked a lot more like the guilty-as-charged variety.

“I’ll get the blood,” Buffy offered. She wondered if it had seemed like she was as lost in that kiss as she really had been. As if the arrogant Vamp needed to know how little she could resist him. ‘Way to teach him a lesson’, she mocked herself.

“Um, I’ll make sure our suppliers don’t wake up too soon” Spike replied, eager to get away from the Slayer’s tempting presence. At least for now. She had flipped their usual roles, and her unexpected aggressiveness in that kiss had thrown him off balance. Had she noticed how he had clung to her, needy and desperate to taste her sweet lips. ‘Way to distract her mate’, he mocked himself.

Minutes later Buffy and Spike were on their road trip, Spike’s cooler crammed full in the back and Buffy’s stomach equally full with their ‘suppliers’ lunches.

Both of them.

Chapter 12: Car radios are for preventing the swapping of life stories

PPI – (Post-Pencil Incident)
Letter written by Buffy to her youngest niece,

Darling Niece,

Your uncle is still recovering from his unfortunate accident so I guess I will have to continue writing you –alone- for a bit. Remember when you asked me why we didn’t have a radio in our car? Or even a tape deck or a CD player? I took them out because it was in a car without a working radio that I first started to let your uncle into my heart. Well, it was that and the unfortunate fact that your uncle doesn’t just borrow his look from the past; his music tastes are derived from the same era…

Spike gaped at Buffy as her stomach rumbled ominously yet again, loudly echoing in the car. He couldn’t believe she was hungry so soon after consuming the two workmen’s’ lunches. Bloody hell, now she was insisting on stopping to getting a ‘real dinner’ at the next town. God, he wished the radio worked so he could just pretend he didn’t hear her whining conversation.

“The sandwiches were really small. They were mostly lettuce, and the bread was kind of stale” Buffy complained.

“But they each had 3 sandwiches, plus soup, and one of the guys had half a box of crackers left. And a bloody six-pack of sodas.”

“Well all that carbonation made it so I couldn’t digest my food properly. My stomach needs some real food to help it along. Like a double cheeseburger, with fries, and maybe some onion rings too.”

“Yes, that sounds like a much better dinner than anything remotely healthy for you, such as the last two lunches you ate. You know I won’t carry you around any more if you continue eating like this. Last time you collapsed-”

“I didn’t collapse… I just… well, there was poison involved, remember? Anyways, I’m not fat. I just have a Slayer-metabolism and need a few extra calories.” She looked at him and asked the age-old question: “You don’t think I’m fat, do you?”

Spike knew there was only one acceptable answer to this, especially if he ever wanted to play with Goldilocks again. “Of course not, pet. I’m just saying you could eat a little healthier. Don’t worry, we’ll stop soon. I just want us to get a little further before sunrise. We’ll stay the night at a motel by a restaurant, ok?”

Buffy grudgingly agreed. Besides, his mention of wanting to ‘get a little further’ had her wondering where they were headed, again. She listened to the silence for a bit and then decided to risk asking him.

“Spike, where-”

“Slayer, why-”

Both Spike and Buffy paused as they interrupted each other. Spike cleared his throat and spoke up, guessing what Buffy wanted to know. He knew he couldn’t hide it from her much longer.

“We’re going back to Sunnydale.”

“No!” Buffy said the word quietly. Very quietly.

Spike had been expecting a loud outburst given her recent departure from her hometown. Somehow her quiet yet firm ‘no’ was even worse. He didn’t know everything about why she had left but her response indicated that what he didn’t know was significant.

“Why did you leave, pet?”

Buffy just sat in her seat, flicking the pine-scented deodorizer hanging from the glove compartment.

Spike didn’t see any reason to tiptoe around the subject… besides, subtle wasn’t his style. “I know that you had to send Angelus to Hell. I know Acathla was awakened. Dru told me from her visions what I didn’t see for myself. It was why she became so determined to kill you after she was healed. I realize it must have been difficult for you but…” Spike shook his own head at his attempt to *help* her. How ironic! He’d been the one to walk out and leave her to that very fate.

“ I was devastated,” Buffy corrected. “Difficult is a Chem exam you didn’t study for. It’s nothing compared to sending the person you love to an eternal Hell.”

“Angelus was not who you loved. He had taken over the man you loved. You sent Angelus to hell.” If anyone knew how different the two were, it was Spike.

“I guess Dru isn’t all-seeing after all,” Buffy said bitterly. She flicked the deodoriser hard enough to break its string. Then she whispered, “He changed back.”

Spike listened in absolute shock. He’d gotten his soul back?

Uncomfortable with Spike’s complete silence, Buffy rushed to finish her explanation. “We found the gypsy curse… and Willow… yes, it must have been her…. but Acathla had already been awakened. He didn’t remember anything that had happened… I kissed him goodbye… and then I stuck a sword through him. I sent Angel to Hell.”

Bugger, Spike thought, sifting through the nearly incoherent explanation, but he didn’t say anything. Angel was a poofer but that fucking Angelus; he was a twisted, sadistic bastard. I bet if it hadn’t required letting the soul back in he would have considered doing it to himself. He’d lived for causing the type of misery Buffy was suffering.

But sympathy wasn’t going to help the Slayer right now. It wasn’t going to help her dodge Dru’s assassins. He knew what needed to be said.

“So you were a good little Slayer and saved the world, again. Then you turned your back on it. But not because it had cost you your lover. No, it was because Willow gave you back Angel. Because you had to face him, forgive him and then make a choice. It was a revelation, wasn’t it? You’re not mad because you sent Angel to Hell, but because you were *able* to send him to Hell. Because you know you would do it again.”

Pausing, he looked into her eyes. She looked shocked. But he continued on, words pouring out, showing her a side of himself that he’d kept hidden before. “You were the Slayer. You were strong, courageous and resolute. It scared the hell out you. You’re punishing the world for making you face your true self and now you’re running away from it all, refusing to embrace your calling. But that’s where you made a mistake. It’s not a calling; you just *are* the Slayer.”

Buffy was crying by the end of all of this. No longer shocked silent and sitting stiffly in her seat, but shaking with great sobs and clinging to Spike’s shirt. She probably didn’t agree with everything he had said – he had accused her of cowardice, in a fashion- but it didn’t really matter because his words had uncorked the misery bottled inside of her.

He pulled over to the side of the road and dragged Buffy into his embrace. Cuddling her close, he kissed the top of her head, making soothing sounds. He never even thought of how strange it was for the Big Bad to be comforting the Slayer.

And stranger yet, neither did Buffy.

She needed to cry it all out, to cry for one of her final losses of innocence. The tearing of the veil from her eyes that hid her own inner strength and had allowed her to fool herself into thinking she was relying on others. Oh, her friends and family did help her and she did depend on them, but when it came between evil and the world it was her, the Slayer, who stood alone and steadfast.

It was a lonely revelation.

Eventually Buffy’s sobs subsided to the occasional sniffle, although she didn’t try to move out of Spike’s comforting embrace. It was only when her stomached protested its empty state, yet again, that they shifted apart.

“Let’s stop at the next motel, eat and get some rest. We can discuss everything later on, OK?” Spike told her.

“No… I mean I do want to stop and rest, but after that I guess we should go to Sunnydale.”

Giving him a more confident look she said, “I have a Hellmouth to protect.”

“I know it doesn’t mean much, but I am sorry for what you’ve had to face alone. I wouldn’t make you go back, but this isn’t something that you can just run away from. We’re going to have to make a stand, eventually, and Sunnydale is our town. It’s where we can not only put up the best defence, but also launch a good offence.”

“I know. It’s just, I didn’t exactly leave town on the best of terms.”

“Well neither did I, pet.”

“But there are… things… that you need to know.”

Spike looked over at Buffy worriedly. He thought she had left Sunnydale to escape the ramifications of sending her lover to Hell. To avoid facing her true Slayer side. It sounded as if things were even more complicated. What was that saying, ‘When it rained, it poured.’?

“Part of the problem is the police are after me for killing Kendra.”

“Kendra?”

“The other Slayer.”

“Oh, yes, I… remember now.” Buffy had told him about it when he had bargained with her for Dru’s get-out-of-jail pass. He cringed as he thought of his response at the time, ‘Dru bagged a Slayer? Good for her!’

Suddenly he was embarrassed that he hadn’t known the latest Slayer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know her name,” he admitted guiltily.

“How can you be sorry? You don’t have a conscience” Buffy told him bitterly.

“I do,” he whispered faintly. Wait a minute. No he didn’t. What was he saying? But it felt like his long dead conscience was raising its head. Puzzled and a little bit unnerved, Spike left it at that. For now.

“You can kill innocents, no worries, yet you feel guilt-pangs over my hardships?” Buffy asked him dubiously.

“It’s complicated. I do have one… a conscience…” The word tasted strange and foreign on his tongue. “I just kind of forgot about it. It’s a bit rusty from lack of use.” Liar, liar, his brain taunted. Except why should he even care that it was a lie? Why the guilt pangs? Those didn’t come with the Vamp un-lifestyle package.

Buffy remained silent at first, trying to think over what Spike was telling her. Maybe it was true; after all, Spike didn’t need to say anything to comfort her and yet he did. That indicated there was something inside of him, some part that might be labelled a conscience. Why else would he feel *bad* for her?

Still, it was difficult for her to meld the image she’d always held for Vamps, that of a selfish demon, with that of one possessing an imperfect conscience. Something strange was happening… She finally settled with telling Spike “Thank you, for saying it. She was a good person. A good Slayer.”

Spike didn’t know how to respond; after all, he didn’t even understand what was happening to him.

He gently prompted her to finish telling him about what had happened in Sunnydale. He wanted her to unburden herself to him, wanted to make the pain in her eyes fade away. “So Kendra’s death was related to your leaving Sunnydale because…”

Buffy swallowed loudly, thinking about that horrible day again, then let it all spill out. “I was bent over her body when the police came in. They thought I… that I killed her. I don’t know if they are still looking for me.”

“Sunnydale police don’t usually pursue murders too long. They’re quick to file them as unsolved. I wouldn’t worry about it, pet.”

“It’s not just that,” Buffy said. She wished it was that simple.

Looking up at the spot where the deodorizer had hung, she said, “They told my mom… she was shocked, you know. I don’t blame her. She told me if I left the house… I couldn’t come back. It was after we killed the Vamp out front. I told her *who* I was. What I am. But I left. I… I walked out on my mom. Then after what happened with Angel, I left permanently… I couldn’t go back to her and face any more condemnation. I was already condemning myself enough. You were right about that, sort of. I was afraid.”

In an almost child-quiet whisper, unsure and afraid, she confessed, “And now I just don’t know how to go back.” She looked up at Spike, her eyes begging for guidance.

Somehow Spike knew she didn’t open up like this with just anyone. Didn’t openly cry, revealing a weakness to others, very often. The knowledge made him feel honoured. So he stomped down his panic over his recent -uncharacteristic- kindness towards her and let the needed words pour out again.

He reached out to hold her hand and told her simply, “It’s not complicated, pet. You just knock on the door and tell her that you love her. Most moms come with a special guarantee to always take you back, especially when you’ve made a mistake. I know your mom is one of those.” Trying to get her to smile, he tried for a little levity. “A woman has to love her daughter a lot to smash a Vamp on the head to get him away from her. She loves you, Buffy.”

Buffy let out a half-muffled laugh through her tears, relieved. She didn’t fully understand why she had opened up to Spike. Maybe it was because she didn’t have anyone else. Spike was the only one who she could say anything to. Absolutely anything. No consequences. She smiled up at him, too relieved that she finally had someone to share with to ponder over the change in Spike’s behaviour towards her.

Spike quietly stroked his fingers through the silky hair of his fragile-strong Slayer. He would protect her now, keeping the loneliness tied to her calling at bay. At least for the moment.

He didn’t want to dwell on how his desertion, after they got rid of Dru’s assassins, could be most cruel blow of all.

Chapter 13: A little drink before bed guarantees a good sleep

Written on a card attached to unsalted sunflower seeds given to Buffy for Valentines from Spike,

In memory of the first time you asked me *in*

Written on a card attached to a stuffed monkey given to Spike a few hours later,

Look here --->
(Arrow on card points to a bite mark sewn into the neck with red thread)

Buffy jumped onto the motel bed as soon as she got her shoes off. Her emotional exhaustion was manifesting itself as physical now that there was a bed in sight. The rumbles in her stomach didn’t bode well for getting a good night sleep though, so she looked up pleadingly at Spike.

“I’m sooooo hungry. Could you please get me something? Anything?” she asked him, thinking of all the deliciously greasy foods the diner across the road would have.

Spike set his cooler of blood down on the floor and sighed resignedly. He had promised the chit some food. Exhausted himself, he muttered, “I hope you also have an insatiable appetite for things other than food.” Nonetheless, he took out ten dollars from one of the stolen wallets and headed out to fetch her something to eat. Bloody Slayer already had him wrapped around her dainty finger. Worse, she knew it.

Buffy stretched out on the bed and happily waited for her yummy, fried bounty to arrive. When Spike finally returned twenty minutes later and laid some bagged sunflower seeds before her on the bed -hardly deserving the label food- instead of the veritable feast she had been imagining, she showed her appreciation by throwing them at him.

Giving him her best irritated, spoiled princess voice she complained, “Food, Spike. I want food. Not bagged squirrel diet.”

“If I have to bag it I don’t see why you should be any different.”

She looked much too cozy lying underneath the comforter, stretched out over half of bed. He had paid for that bed! With stolen money, of course, but still, it was the principle of the matter. Pulling his boots off, he proceeded to ignore her.

“Food. Now.” Buffy had been reduced to cranky one-word orders. So what if she sounded all of five-years old. She was hungry!

Spike just glared down at her. He still felt sorry for what had happened to her in Sunnydale, but he wasn’t going to slave to her just because he had suddenly developed an appalling sense of guilt where she was concerned. Besides she looked a lot better yelling at him then crying on his shirt.

“Fine. Will this do, pet?” he asked her, opening the motel door once again and picking up some takeout he had left on the doorstep. It was going to get cold if he left it sitting outside, anyway. He might as well bring it in and see if she would change her royal tune.

Buffy drooled over the sight of the very foods she had been craving earlier. The burger was enormous, and the orders of onion rings and fries were separate, so they were larger. He had gotten her a strawberry shake too. How did he know strawberry was her favourite? Excessive saliva was suddenly becoming an issue. She eagerly sat up in the bed and reached for the takeout carton.

Spike held the food just out of her reach, waiting for her to realize that the bounty would only be surrendered when she asked for it properly. Preferably on her knees while she kissed his feet. Shrugging that impossible scenario out of his head, he just cleared his throat and waited for her to at least say ‘Please’.

Buffy wasn’t stupid. She quickly said ‘please’ and then gobbled down her food. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Spike tear into his bagged nourishment and suck it down with obvious distaste. It must have been cold and thick, and probably had tasted as good to him as the sunflower seeds would have to her. Unsalted sunflower seeds.

She eyed the pack of evil sunflower seeds still sitting on the bed with revulsion.

Spike watched Buffy inhale her greasy food with relish. His own stomach protested the lack of enjoyment he was getting from the bagged blood. Of course it wasn’t really his stomach complaining… because it didn’t even work. This was a mental thing. Just seeing her bite into the burger hungrily and then hearing her groan of satisfaction made him… jealous.

His recently awakened guilt-complex chose that moment to rear its head and tell him she deserved every moment of happiness, even if it was only derived from food. To appease it he decided to let her enjoy the rest of the night and not drink from her. That tiny sacrifice should placate his accusatory inner voice, wherever the hell it had come from. Who was he kidding? That wasn’t a tiny sacrifice. But he didn’t move to drink from her anyway.

Having finished her food, Buffy asked Spike to turn out the lights and then waited for him to come to bed. She rolled over close beside him and placed her hand on his chest when he laid down on the far side of their bed, making no move to drink from her.

“Spike?”

How could he have forgotten to bite her? The sudden change in their routine was disturbing. She didn’t fully understand why it troubled her, but it did! She didn’t think she would be able to sleep until he took some blood. Her skin felt tight now, as if she had too much blood stuck inside her, and she needed to let a little bit out.

“Pet, I’m tired.” -Please fall asleep, so I’m not tempted to yank you under me and take what I want. Sleep. Go to sleep.-

Buffy pulled herself partly onto Spike’s body, sighing as she made contact with his cool, bare skin. Just his touch could make her begin to relax. She brushed her hair to one side and laid her head on his shoulder, leaving her neck exposed to him. The next words out of her mouth surprised her, but only a little.

“Drink some. Just a little. To get rid of the taste.” The last was said partly as an excuse. She just needed him to take his daily sip. Wanted. She longed for the connection she felt to him when he drank her blood, something to help block out the despondency bringing up the past had wrought.

Spike lay rigidly on the bed, shocked that she would offer and terribly tempted.

When he didn’t immediately bite, she told him “Go ahead. I’m used to it by now.” She didn’t like it when he used her blood to take her powers away, but lately his bites had brought her comfort… and something else she didn’t want to examine too closely.

Bloody hell, he thought. She’s already craving the comfort of my bite. It was just instinct, something most Claimed females experienced, although some males also did. He knew that if he bit her now he would make her a Claimed female for real.

Swallowing, he tasted the distasteful bagged blood again.

Buffy licked Spike’s neck and then gently nibbled it. She was grateful for the darkness that hid her blushes and let her act more boldly. “I need you to do it, Spike. Take it. I’m offering myself to you freely.” Nipping him sharply she pleaded, “Please, bi… Oh…”

Yielding to his demon’s demands, he shifted to Vamp face and pulled her neck closer to his fangs. As he bit her and tasted the powerful Slayer blood his demon took over even more.

He pushed her onto her back to satisfy his demon’s need for dominance. Positioned over her in a protective embrace that screamed his possessiveness for the tiny warrior beneath him, he withdrew his fangs, sliced his tongue and licked his bite, letting their blood intermingle over the wound. Unbeknownst to Buffy, scar tissue formed around the bite, making it stand out in stark contrast to her skin, unlike her other barely visible bite mark. But another Vamp would be sure to notice.

She was his.

Buffy moaned as Spike finally bit her, satisfying the craving that had built up within her. He wasn’t taking much blood and he hadn’t taken any of her powers. When he flipped her onto her back she just sighed in pleasure, revelling in the feel of his power surrounding her, shielding her. She needed him just like this. She didn’t mind that he withdrew momentarily; the licking was soothing and sexy.

Spike fought for his human face. He had to stop now! She was lying underneath him, making little sounds of pleasure, just begging him to Mate her. The demon urged him to nudge her thighs apart, enter her and finish what she started. When Buffy wiggled enticingly underneath him and moaned again he thought, ‘Fuck!’

Buffy glanced up at Spike, watching him change back and forth between demon and human visages. It should have frightened her, but instead she found herself fascinated. She knew he was losing control. Not because he wanted to drain her but because he *wanted* her. Intuitively she knew that, and with Spike it seemed best to rely on instincts. She knew what he was feeling… she was as lost in the passion as he.

Reaching up and brushing her fingers over his sharp cheekbones, she pulled him back down to her. As he got close she brushed her lips against his jaw line and down his throat until she reached his pulse. There she bit him again over her previous bite marks, which were still visible. For some elusive reason she bit him hard, with enough strength to slightly break the skin. As her tongue made contact with his metallic tasting blood, she pressed her shoulders and feet into the mattress below, giving her leverage to push her hips upwards.

Spike, who was stuck in Vamp-face for now, had to physically restrain himself from taking all that Buffy was unwittingly offering as she tasted his blood. He clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from grabbing her hips and steadying her for his entry. He was not going to Mate her. He was not going to Mate her.

Then she pressed her hips against him, in an unmistakable plea. Spike froze; tense with the effort it took to check his demon’s impulse. Rolling off Buffy, he pulled her spoon like against his body. He grabbed her hand and placed it between her legs, pressing in gently. Maybe if he relieved one of her other needs, she would forget about this one.

Buffy laced her fingers with Spike’s and let him guide her hand over her covered folds. Together they pressed firmly against the crotch of her jeans, creating a steady pressure over the sensitized flesh. It was amazingly erotic for Buffy to feel Spike’s fingers tangle with her own against that responsive area. She turned her head back to look up at him, begging with pleasure-filled eyes for him to play with her mouth also.

Spike immediately complied, kissing her openly and deeply. His tongue duelled with hers, penetrating her mouth in a parody of what he wanted to do elsewhere. She breathed sweet little groans of pleasure into his mouth as their fingers brushed over her tiny, hidden bud. That was it! His body demanded that he become more involved.

Breaking off from her mouth, he paused to take in her flushed countenance and laboured breathing as she reached towards her peak. Then in one quick movement he flipped their position so that she was on her knees, legs spread, her forehead lying on the pillow. Their entwined hands never left her quim. He was situated above her, pressing the outline of his hard cock against her ass as she swayed back towards him.

The sudden change in pose fed Buffy’s desire; naughty thoughts about the powerful and dangerous Vamp behind her acting as a catalyst for her release. She felt the orgasm begin to ripple through her body at the same time Spike bit her shoulder. He kept applying pressure over her clit as she came, drawing out each individual wave of release until she collapsed under him, exhausted, but replete.

Hearing the Slayer’s heartbeat slowing down rapidly, Spike knew she was falling asleep and withdrew from the comfortable confines of the bed. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep in the state that the Slayer had left him in. And after the difficulty he’d had stopping his demon from making her his Mate, he decided that it might be *safer* to handle this one on his own.

Buffy vaguely registered Spike getting out of bed and tiredly asked him “Where are you going?” Although the ‘bite’ had become a lot more than what she had imagined, it certainly had left her as calm as her instincts had promised. She didn’t think it was the same for Spike though.

“I’m going to take Goldilocks up on her advice and join my monkey friend.”

Mostly asleep already, Buffy relied quite literally with her thoughts, “Oh, good. Don’t stay out too late.”

Chapter 14: A woman never dresses as a French maid to clean up

Letter to Dawn’s youngest daughter from Willow

…So cutie, how did that last levitation spell I taught you go? Were you able to float that bully Jake’s cap into the bear’s cage during the school trip like we planned? I think I’ve found a spell that will give whoever you choose a wedgie. Maybe we could test it out on your uncle Spike during Thanksgiving? Your aunt Buffy tells me that he certainly deserves some punishment, although I think she was planning to dish it out. She’s still mad because he dressed you up as a French maid for Halloween when he took you out. I know he tried to tell your mom the black dress was because you were pretending to be a witch but the white apron was a bit hard to explain.

Spike was just *finishing up* in the bathroom when he heard Buffy moving around in their room. He opened the door to find out what she was doing, getting his toes scorched before he could retreat back to the relative safety of the bathroom.

Apparently she was peeking out of the curtains to see something interesting outside. She really did have a bad habit of accidentally flooding the rooms he was occupying with sunlight. At least, he thought it was accidental.

“Dammit, Pet. Could you be a little more mindful of those of us with sun allergies?” Spike called out, slowly inching the door back open when he heard the curtains swish shut.

“Sorry. I just wanted to check who was outside; thought I heard something. I didn’t know you were there. I thought you were going out somewhere,” she told him sleepily. “Out with your mon-…” she broke off as the words made connections in her brain and shocked her fully awake. Then she mumbled something that sounded a lot like “I thought we discussed rules for sharing the facilities. Ew.”

Spike rolled the towel he was holding into a ball and threw it into the far corner.

Buffy scrunched up her face to give him a look of disgust and then stomped over to retrieve the used towel. “Throw it in the laundry bag, idiot, or else room service won’t give us a fresh one” she told him, picking up his dirty towel. “And I’m not about to share my clean one with you…”

Buffy broke off her rant as she sniffed suspiciously at the towel and then immediately dropped it. “Ew! That’s unbelievable Spike. You… you actually used the towel to… why not toilet paper or… Ew!”

“Clean-up” a woman conveniently interrupted, knocking on their door.

“Don’t open that, Slayer” Spike ordered from his position in the bathroom doorway.

Buffy rolled her eyes, walked over to the door and opened it up, glaring at the original cause of her disrupted sleep. Glancing at her watch Buffy realized that it really was clean up time. Normal people left the hotel at this time, unlike her and Spike who were just turning in. Well at least the clean up crew could get rid of Spike’s funky towel.

A pretty brunette in uniform looked up at her, arms full of fresh towels and toiletries. There was van parked behind her, blocking the glare from the sun by the shadow it cast over the doorway. It said ‘Hotel Cleaning’ across the side in stark, black paint.

When Buffy didn’t move out of the doorway the maid said “Hi. We only do cleanup in the mornings, so if I can come in I’ll get you some fresh towels and stuff.”

Buffy eyed the sleazy way the maid wore her uniform and suddenly changed her mind about getting the room clean. That’s just what she needed, front row seats to Spike drooling -or worse- over the maid. She had to put up with his not-so-hygienic habits, but she drew the line at watching him playing with a ‘French’ maid.

“We don’t need anything, thanks,” Buffy grumpily told her. Besides, Buffy’s fatigued body was screaming sleep first, clean later. She didn’t care what her watch said.

The maid ignored Buffy, looking past her to Spike, as if she was asking him to step in and veto Buffy’s decision to turn down the service she was offering. The way she looked at Spike made it obvious that cleaning wasn’t the only service she was offering either.

Buffy could tell by the way Spike was ogling the maid’s curvier frame that he’d also caught onto maid’s double offer. She slammed the door in the maid’s face.

Spike stomped across the room and spun Buffy around to face him. “Don’t just open the door to anyone. How did you know that wasn’t one of Dru’s demons?”

Buffy shrugged Spike’s grip off and said “The only people in danger from her are old men with a thing for French maids.” Looking at Spike with derision she quickly added, “Oh wait, you are an old man… don’t worry I’ll keep you safe.” But before Buffy could return to the bed triumphant in this last skirmish of words the knocking on the door began again.

Disbelievingly, Buffy opened the door –ignoring Spike’s vehement sound of protest- and glared at the insolent maid. “ I said we were fine. Go away!”

“I’m sorry. It’s just I have to get all of these rooms finished this morning. My mom is really sick and I need to be home early to take her to the doctor. Couldn’t you please help me out and just let me clean up quickly? A few new towels and toiletries at least?”

“Um towels? Yes, I guess at least one of us could use a fresh towel after the monkey’s visit” Buffy said grumpily, giving Spike the evil eye. She was not sharing hers with him. And the maid was here right now with more, so…

Suddenly remembering whom she was talking to, she turned back to the maid and smiled brightly. “Thank you ever so much,” she said, grabbing at the towels in the maid’s arms so she could shut the door and forget her embarrassing lapse.

The maid clung to the towels stubbornly, and told her “Um, Miss? I don’t mind putting them in the bathroom for you. I need to get the laundry too. Please don’t trouble yourself. If you don’t mind inviting me in I’ll be done in a jiffy.”

Spike, who had been half-heartedly listening while Buffy embarrassed herself in front of the maid, perked up in alarm at this work choice. Invite? Every Vamp knew the significance of that word. The Slayer should have picked up on it too, but obviously she wasn’t fully listening; acting rashly in face of her embarrassment.

Buffy stepped back a bit and told the maid “come in” making scooting movements with her hands at Spike to clear out of the way. The sooner this was over the sooner she could go back to bed.

Spike leapt towards Buffy, trying to grab her before the brunette, who Vamped while Buffy’s back was turned, pulled her out of the room. His hands closed on empty space.

Buffy stumbled backwards as the maid pulled her from behind out into the parking lot. She turned around to face her attacker and caught sight of 5 more Vamps piling out of the parked van and into the shadow cast by it. They ignored her and aimed straight for Spike, who was trying to get out of the room without getting burnt.

Spike growled at the fledglings that blocked his path to Buffy. He Vamped and faced the attackers keeping him from her; they had all just signed on for a dusting. He grabbed at the Vamp closest to him, getting a good grip, and threw him out of the safety of the shadows and into the sunlight.

The airborne Vamp caught fire and dusted right in front of the brunette, who was shoving Buffy against the wall. Spike paused; jaw falling slack, as he took in the sight of the brunette vampire holding Buffy in the full morning sunlight. His surprise cost him the advantage with the four remaining Vamps. One kicked him in the leg, knocking him slightly off balance. Then the other three attacked together, driving him down to the ground.

Buffy struggled in the strong grip of the brunette Vamp. Her head was spinning from being knocked about. Pieces of brick littered the ground from where they had broken off the wall when her body had been forcefully slammed into it.

“So, we finally meet, Buffy Summers,” the Vamp said theatrically, giving Buffy’s straining frame the once over. She raised an eyebrow and said, “Funny, I thought you’d be stronger. Smarter too.” Clucking her tongue in disappointment, the brunette leaned closer to Buffy and whispered, “Legends are always blown out of proportion.”

Buffy glared at the Vamp that had her pinned to the wall. “That’s why you had to take me from behind I suppose? Didn’t feel you were up to challenging me face to face? Oh, excuse me, I meant my face to your butt ugly wrinklies. You know they do have face creams to help with that. Paper bags too; you might even be able to get them in extra ugly.”

Then taking a real good look at her surroundings, Buffy added, a little more hesitantly under her breath, “Of course, avoiding sun exposure is the best wrinkle prevention method there is.”

“Ah, well at least the lame sense of humour wasn’t exaggerated. Don’t worry sis, I’m sure with time we can fix that,” the brunette finally responded.

“Sis? Even my lame sense of humour can’t…”

Buffy broke off as she heard Spike’s cry of pain. He was lying on the ground, arms wrapped around his ribs, trying to ward off further blows from the four Vamps kicking him. She called his name, fear for him vibrating through her scream.

The brunette cut Buffy’s call short by slamming her against the wall, yet again. This time part of the roof gutter was knocked off the wall by the force. “Shut up, sis” the brunette told her impatiently.

Looking pointedly at the fallen gutter pipe and then back at the sluttish way the brunette wore her ‘uniform’, Buffy commented, dryly, “Gutter, appropriate.” It earned her a backhanded blow across the face.

A blow the brunette had to free up a hand to deliver.

“Careful you don’t lose your grip” Buffy exclaimed, grabbing onto the only hand left restraining her and twisting it brutally.

The brunette cursed and released Buffy, instinctively pulling her injured hand towards her body.

Buffy pivoted away from the brunette and yelled for Spike again, who was valiantly trying to fend off the three remaining fledglings. He had dusted the forth, snapping its neck, and was standing now, although he was favouring his right side. She stepped into the shadow to help even the odds further. The brunette kicked her from behind, knocking her into one of the fledglings and in turn pushing him into the sunlight, where he poofed into a cloud of dust. ‘Thanks for that,’ Buffy said as she punched the female Vamp in retaliation.

“Don’t thank me so soon.” The brunette spin kicked Buffy while avoiding the erratic blows the fledglings were throwing at Spike. Buffy wasn’t as lucky, tripping over a fledgling and falling to the ground as the brunette landed another hit. “I didn’t say were finished yet,” she remarked, bending over Buffy’s fallen form. She looked at the three vamps still fighting. “Forget about him. He’ll be a dusty memento soon.”

Buffy watched Spike land several blows… the odds were now a much more promising 2 to 1. “I wouldn’t count on that, Bitch.”

The brunette grabbed Buffy up off the ground and threw her against the truck, advancing on her as she crumpled onto the ground. “Name calling, sis? Does the thought of a dusty Spike get under your skin?”

Buffy restrained her natural response, letting the brunette’s words wash over her. After her second confrontation with Spike she had learned the value of the old I’m-injured-come-and-finish-me-off routine. She couldn’t help but wish that this time it was more of an act; constant slamming into immovable objects was leaving her tired and sore.

“The great Buffy Summers isn’t giving up so soon? Just when I was starting to have fun.” The brunette bent down and hauled Buffy’s unresisting body against her own. “Worn out already?” she complained, dragging Buffy towards the back of the open van. She threw Buffy into the van, hard, and yelled “Maybe you should have a nap then.”

Spike watched as the female Vamp threw Buffy’s limp body into the van and then followed her in. Ducking a punch by one of the two remaining Vamps fighting him, he growled his displeasure. The sight of Buffy being thrown around violently automatically aroused his protectiveness.

It was time to end this.

It took everything Buffy had to remain still, to not jump up and throw the brunette back out of the van. Remember what Spike did, she thought. Last time, with the Tuyen demon, his technique worked out pretty well for me, so why not this time? Patience. The van isn’t so bad. We have cramped quarters, just like in the bathroom. I could pin her and then her greater strength won’t matter.

The brunette kicked Buffy’s prone body, impatiently, sighing dispassionately as Buffy smacked into a metal bench inside the van. “You’re just as bad as Dru’s minions, only worth a five minute scrap, and that’s if I’m really bored. I thought you were going be different. You’re suppose to have super powers, sis. Even I put up more of a fight,” the brunette exclaimed.

Smiling, the brunette gleefully told Buffy, “Soon you’ll be my match. It’s not what Dru wanted… but I haven’t been a perfect Childe.”

The brunette pulled Buffy’s body up, picking her up from behind and then wrapping an arm around Buffy’s waist to support her dead weight. She used the other hand to bring Buffy’s neck closer to her fangs.

Buffy used her free hands to attack the unsuspecting brunette before she could bite. A quick, distracting poke to the eyes followed by an elbow to the stomach got her released. Buffy immediately spun around and attacked the temporarily disabled brunette, taking advantage of the Vamp’s inability to move out of the way of her strikes due to the space constraints inside the van.

The brunette was helpless to defend herself, just as Buffy had been in the tiny motel bathroom against Spike. Thinking of the still outnumbered Spike, Buffy landed an uppercut to the brunette’s jaw that snapped her head brutally back and knocked her out. Not even waiting for the brunette to fall to the van floor, she hurried out of the van to assist Spike.

Spike was battling the last fledgling, a large, bald Vamp that had so far eluded dusting with a few shrewd moves. Spike managed to land another bone crunching punch to the Vamp’s head as he saw Buffy emerge from the van. Impatient to run over and make sure she was ok, he threw the last of his remaining strength into moving just a little bit faster, grabbing the Vamp and throwing him into the sunlight like his other victims.

Buffy rushed over to Spike as he threw the last Vamp and collapsed to the ground. He was struggling to reach her, obviously fatigued. Buffy ran the rest of the way and pulled him into her arms, hugging him close. Cupping his head, she looked into his blackened eyes and whispered gently, “You’re going to be ok. I promise.”

Chapter 15: Beware of anyone who doesn’t like knock-knock jokes

Email from Buffy to Dawn’s youngest Daughter
To: SweetPea91@hotmail.com
From: Goldilocks09@hotmail.com
Subject: Uncle Spike’s sense of humour

…Ok, so it isn’t that your uncle Spike doesn’t like knock-knock jokes…it’s just, sometimes he seems to lose his sense of humour. It’s temporary. It’s kind of like he has ‘British moments’ every so often – and unfortunately they’re always at the worst times. You know when he gets all ‘stuffy’ and lecture-y like Giles does… well like Giles does all the time. (Grin) Except for that during this particular ‘British moment’ Spike acted in a very non-Giles way. But enough about that…

“Well, sis, I wouldn’t make promises that you can’t keep.”

Buffy let go of a groaning Spike and grabbed her hair, which the brunette Vamp was trying to yank out… with Buffy’s head still attached… as she dragged her away from Spike.

“Let go of my hair, you Neanderthal bitch!” Buffy shouted, calculating how much hair she would lose if she engaged in a tug-of-war.

As Buffy dug in her heels, preparing to sacrifice a substantial amount her blonde strands, she saw Spike lunge for her. A surge of Vamp strength rushed into her body as he reached for her and desperately grabbed her lower leg, looking into her eyes.

Spike collapsed onto the ground, totally helpless, with most of his power drained. He watched through the swollen slits of his eyelids as the Slayer used her borrowed power to break free of the Vamp’s hold.

The look in the Vamp’s eyes as she faced the supercharged Buffy was one of shock and dissatisfaction. She looked like a spoiled child that had just had the silver spoon ripped from her mouth. It was enough to make Spike scrounge up the energy to smirk at her, letting her see how much he was anticipating her dusting.

Buffy backhanded the brunette, knocking her into the ground with a bone-jarring thud. Thinking of how the female Vamp had taken great pleasure in throwing her into immovable solid objects, Buffy reached down, picked her up and threw her into the side of the parked van.

The sound of the brunette’s body thumping into the van’s side was like sweet music to Buffy’s ears. The Vamp sprawled unconscious in the spot her body had bounced to. Buffy hoped the bitch would have black paint on her ass from the impact.

Buffy looked back to where Spike was groaning in pain. She realized that when he transferred his power to her he had lost his Vamp healing too. Now he felt, intensely, every one of the injuries inflicted earlier.

She was torn between going to Spike’s aid or finishing off the female Vamp. Reluctantly deciding that it would be better to fully eliminate the threat the brunette represented first, she swivelled around to face the vicious female again.

The brunette was gone!

How had she recovered so quickly? She seemed nearly invincible, able to stand in direct sunlight and shrug off body slams. Kick ass body slams! Well, there weren’t many things that would survive a stake to the heart.

Grabbing a stake off the ground -left by Spike’s dusty attackers- Buffy charged towards the truck, intent on finishing this off with an ‘old reliable’ staking.

Buffy was still a couple feet from the truck when she heard its engine turn over with a rumble. What?! Did the bitch think she could just run off now that Buffy had gotten juiced? She ran towards the truck, intending to leap in through its still open back doors.

The sound of Spike’s barely audible cry stopped her.

Looking back in the direction of Spike, she could see the shadow cast by the truck moving away from him as the brunette drove off. Desperate, Buffy ran back towards Spike and picked him up, throwing him through the open motel room door.

Spike hissed with pain as parts of his exposed skin were scorched when Buffy’s toss took him out of the protective shadow for a precious second. He didn’t voice any complaints however, glad to still be in an un-dusty state.

“Spike, oh my God, are you ok?” Buffy frantically yelled.

“Gonna survive” Spike responded, trying to get to his feet.

Buffy reached down and helped him up but Spike shook her off when she tried to guide him to the bed.

“No time for rest. We have to go after her now.” Spike told Buffy, trying to gather up the remnants of his strength in his power-drained state. He grabbed a blanket off of the bed and said, “You drive and I’ll just lie in the back.”

Buffy eyed the weary and injured Vamp disbelievingly, crossing her arms in a serious pose, as she stood steadfastly in front of the doorway. “We. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. At least not until you are feeling better” she insisted. “Besides, I need a bit of time to recover too. You didn’t even ask about my injuries, Mr. Inattentive. An ‘are you ok?’ or ‘how badly are you injured?’ wouldn’t have hurt.” Buffy complained, miffed. As an afterthought she reminded him “We are almost out of gas anyways, so we wouldn’t be able to track her for long.”

“She’s going to come back again. For you.” He didn’t bother to explain that he already knew that none of her injuries were that bad. It was the kind of thing Vamps could sense about those they Claimed. But still, the female Vamp that caused Buffy’s injuries was going to pay for every little bruise and cut. She was going to pay for making Spike helpless to protect Buffy.

“I…” looking at Spike she hastily amended “We… will be prepared for her next time.” Buffy told him, brushing off his concern.

He glared at the nonchalant Slayer, who’s lack of concern over her own safety was making him see red, “Oh, you mean preparations like breaking all of your fingers and duct taping your mouth shut so you don’t open our door and invite another Vamp in? Maybe we should take down the ‘Welcome Dru’s Demons’ sign too, while we’re at it!”

“Don’t be stupid Spike. I took that sign down at the last hotel. The one I put up here said ‘Welcome Sleazy Maids.’ The way you were looking at her, *you* should have noticed the ‘I’m a super bad-ass Vamp’ stamped on her ass. I’m sure if I didn’t invite her in you would have anyway.”

He was starting to feel weak. Spike staggered backwards towards the support of the bed, falling back onto it with a sigh of frustration. Stubborn slayer. He needed his strength back to ‘talk’ to her.

“Come here then. I need some power back to start healing,” he reminded her. He looked pointedly at her nearly healed body. Their combined strength had exponentially increased Buffy’s already super-powered healing ability.

Actually it kind of shocked Spike to see how quickly she had healed; maybe it was some kind of side effect of the Claim on a Slayer. Or it could have to do with the spell that allowed them to exchange power. He had felt immensely uneasy using Magiks he knew nothing about, but Dru’s curse had left him with no other choice.

Buffy headed towards Spike. She felt guilty when she saw how battered he was. She may have faced the strongest Vamp, especially given the brunette’s strange abilities, but Spike had faced 5 vamps on his own, all of them intent on dusting him.

Spike pulled Buffy down to lie on top of his body. Looking into her eyes he reversed the transfer of power. He felt his strength return with a little of hers borrowed too. He tightened his arms around her and rolled over to his side. Now she was going to listen to him…

Every! Word!

Buffy cautiously peeked up at Spike’s healing but upset features. He had the same look as Giles got right before he lectured her for doing something he considered foolish. Something like taking on a Vamp nest alone or forgetting to bring along her weapons during patrol and other such incidental stuff. Damn, he was undeniably in overprotective mode. And she definitely felt like he had mooched some of her strength.

“Slayer” Spike said calmly. “Do you remember me saying something about not opening the door to strangers?” He managed to say that calmly too, with only a little more emphasis on the word ‘not.’ “Of course all 5 year olds know that rule, but you, you-.” This was said with a bit more heat.

Buffy just shook her head, indicating that she agreed. Her experiences with Giles had taught her that this was the fastest way to end a lecture. The sudden tensing of Spike’s jaw, however, seemed to indicate that Spike was not as easily appeased. Apparently he could see right through her I’m-only-agreeing-to-shut-you-up technique.

Probably employed it himself on occasion.

Regaining his calmness Spike firmly said, “Repeat after me. I promise to never open doors to strangers. I will never invite a stranger into my room, especially when ASKED for an invitation”

Buffy could understand where Spike was coming from. Really, she could. But she wasn’t going to repeat it. She was an adult, after all. She avoided Spike’s eyes, finding interest in the brown and yellow pattern of the curtain. God, she thought to herself, anyone could have made the same mistake and she wasn’t going to let Spike treat her like a child. She mentally crossed her arms over her chest.

“Buffy!”

“Spike” Buffy whined, obnoxiously. “I’m not going to repeat that. Don’t be stupid. It was a maid. How could I have known what she was? What did you want me to do, turn it all into some lame knock-knock joke? Knock-knock. Who’s there? One lame-o-stereotypical French maid who just happens to be a psycho-Vamp and her 5 sidekicks to boot.”

Buffy could hear Spike grind his teeth in response. So he didn’t like knock-knock jokes. It wasn’t as if he was Mr. Funny himself. Unfortunately, Buffy didn’t take Spike’s lack of humour as the warning it really was, muttering “Careful you don’t grind your fangs down, or we’ll be calling you Spike-less.”

“Maybe you could have tried closing your chatty little mouth,” Spike suggested, placing a shushing finger against her lips, “and opening your eyes a little wider. You’re the bloody Slayer. You should be able to spot a Vamp from 50 paces easy, forget a mere foot.”

Looking at her with exasperation he added, “You should check everyone over before you INVITE them in.”

“Oh I’m sorry. You’re talking about my Slayer’s checklist, standard with all of us Slayers,” Buffy replied flippantly. “Do you suppose the whole ‘standing outside in the middle of a sunny day’ is on my checklist for Vamps?” Buffy sarcastically continued, oblivious to Spike’s obvious anger. Pretending to yank out a notepad, she casually scanned her palm said, “Oh, would you believe it? That isn’t on the list? I better add it. Right next to…”

Spike quickly sat up and yanked Buffy face down over his lap in an unmistakable position. Thanks to their combined powers, he’d experienced as nearly as quick a healing time as Buffy. Perhaps it was time to remind her who was supposed to be in charge.

“Do you remember what I said I would do if you were naughty, Slayer?” Spike queried in a dangerously furious voice. He had her legs tucked between his tightly clenched thighs and a strong arm across the small of her back. When she brought her hands up to protect her vulnerable bottom Spike just grabbed them and twisted them up against her back.

Buffy gave her jean-covered ass a little wiggle, confirming to herself that she was completely trapped by Spike’s grip. Panicking and outraged, she screamed at him “I’ll kill you if you do this Spike. I swear I will. Dru will never get the chance to dust your sorry, chauvinistic, old-fashioned ass because I will personally stake you. This is the 21st century, in case you have forgotten. The only spanking men are allowed to do nowadays involves Mr. Happy.”

Spike ignored everything she said and repeated, “ I promise to never open…”

Buffy interrupted Spike’s patronizing words with an ineffective nip to his jean covered thigh. Damn it. It had been a lot easier to bite his uncovered shoulder. The tough jean material protected Spike’s leg from the worst of her teeth’s impact.

Spike shifted Buffy under him, lifting her swaying bottom higher. This was going to be the last time she bit him like that. The Vamp in him didn’t respond well to aggressive bites, especially from one he had Claimed. She should only bite if invited.

Buffy actually screeched in fury when she felt Spike bite her bum with his blunt human teeth in return. It hurt, and even with his human teeth it was going to leave a mark. With a renewed sense of rage she turned her head and bit his side, which was now in her reach. Luckily the t-shirt he had on didn’t provide the same type of protection his jeans had.

Caught by surprise Spike dropped Buffy back onto his lap when he felt the sharp pinch of her teeth on the skin over his ribs. She was such a handful. A squirming, biting and now scratching handful. Reminding himself of his original purpose he pinned Buffy back down over his lap before she could squirm away.

“Slayer, let’s try this again, minus the impression of your teeth on my skin.”

“I don’t talk to soon-to-be dust-bunnies.”

Growling in aggravation Spike finally brought his hand down to smack her impertinent ass. (Smack!) Then once more for good measure. (Smack!) Raising his hand up again, he said for the third time “I promise…”

“To dust your domineering, meddling, conceit-”

Smack!

Buffy mumbled the rest of her sentence, although Spike’s Vamp hearing allowed him to make out the various threats she was making against him. And every ‘inferior, idiotic fledgling he had ever created.’

Smack!

Apparently dusting was too good for him. Smiling despite his exasperation with her, he listened to her threaten all the things she was going to do to him before she finally dusted him. Of course he smacked her after each additional threat.

“Oh my God. Sir? What are you…”

A maid entered their room through the slightly open door, uninvited, and marched over to them, demanding that Spike “unhand that poor woman right away.”

Buffy took advantage of Spike’s inattention to her, pushing out of his grip. But before she could get to the relative safety of the maid, and sunlight, Spike yanked her behind him.

“Stay back” Spike commanded angrily.

Buffy nervously eyed Spike and the maid. Seeing Spike focus on the maid’s uniform, she realized he was reacting to the danger the last maid represented and now was protecting her from this one. “Stupid man” she muttered out loud while her more susceptible ‘heart’ sighed over the idea of Spike jumping to her protection. Obviously her heart was too far away from her bum to realize what a jerk Spike really was. She would set it straight later, right now she had to get the maid away from Spike before he pounced.

Looking up at the approaching maid, Buffy decided to extract a little revenge for Spike’s autocratic attitude at the same time. Hastily devising her plan of action, she told the maid, “Oh, uhm… I’m sorry we didn’t know that the door was open.”

Spike looked back at Buffy and decided to play along. At least it would get rid of the maid so he could finish dealing with his naughty Slayer. Looking back at the maid to get her attention, he licked his lips and focused a salacious look on Buffy. “Pet, I thought you didn’t mind an audience.”

Slapping Spike none-too-gently on the back of his head she yelled, haughtily, “You idiot! I told you to make sure the door was locked.” Rolling her eyes she told the maid “God it is so difficult to hire a good…” then pretending to catch herself she finished “uhm… companion.”

The maid just stood there incredulous but Spike turned around and gave Buffy an outraged glare.

“Listen here Sla-”

Buffy drew her hand back and slapped Spike hard across the face, knocking the words right out of his mouth. Then she hurried over to the maid’s side before his shock wore off.

“Spike, I want you to think of a way you can make this up to me. You have embarrassed me and no doubt you have embarrassed her also. I’m going to give you 10 minutes to think up your apology,” Buffy said superciliously. Pulling the stunned maid behind her, she quickly exited the room, nearly closing the door on Spike’s hand as he belatedly rushed up to grab her.

Once outside the door, Buffy turned towards the maid with the intent to apologise again.

“How much?” the maid asked.

“Excuse me?” Buffy said.

“How much does he charge… because if you don’t want him anymore…”

Perhaps the idea of Spike spanking her wasn’t what had shocked the little maid silent earlier; obviously it was her reaction to his extravagant good looks… and perceived foreplay techniques. Damn him and his beautiful blue eyes. Shocked and feeling a little bit possessive Buffy stammered “Too… too much. He’s overpriced.”

The maid looked at her, disappointed, but then shrugged and said, “Well I wouldn’t waste any time then if I were you, especially if he costs so much.” Then she inquired, hesitantly, “Do you know where he got the nickname ‘Spike’ from?”

Buffy just shook her head… hoping she could shake the dirty images suddenly swamping her thoughts away. Her face suffused with heat as her dirty thoughts brought back the memories of just a couple of hours ago: on her hands and knees with Spike behind her, his talented fingers playing with hers over her clit, giving her the release her body demanded…

The maid just smiled and walked away, heading to the next room.

From behind the door Buffy heard Spike say with a great deal of humour “Not sharing Pet? That’s pretty selfish of you. That sweet little thing looked like she would…”

Buffy yanked the door open, making Spike jump back to avoid the daylight.

Before Buffy could open her mouth and berate him for ogling yet another maid, as well as eavesdropping, Spike stepped around the sunlight and shut the door firmly behind her. Then in one swift motion he forced her back against the door, imprisoning her between his arms. Leaning down he stared into her eyes, letting her see his unspent anger.

Buffy stared up at the handprint marring Spike’s left cheek. She swallowed, loudly. Or, at least, it seemed loud to her ears.

Touching the starkly red mark she whispered, “I promise to never open doors to strangers. I will never invite a stranger into my room, especially when ASKED for an invitation.” She looked into Spike’s eyes as she recited the words. The fear for her safety she saw reflected there gave her words an honesty that she originally hadn’t intended. She had planned on placating him at first, but now she felt that Spike’s concern warranted that she take his fears seriously.

He really was worried about her.

Hearing the words whispered to him so faintly but sincerely, the anger seeped out of his body. All the tension caused by the fear he had felt since the brunette Vamp had attacked Buffy was alleviated by her earnestness. He didn’t know what had made her change her tune but he was grateful she had. Overcome with relief, and finally letting his joy that she was still alive to show, he bent down towards her and brushed his lips against hers. “I don’t want to lose you” he told her, voice gravely with emotion.

Buffy absorbed the knowledge that Spike was worried about her being taken away from him. Her own mother had said the same words to her after she had grounded her for skating on the thin ice of a lake near their house, despite it being forbidden. Suddenly she wasn’t quite so angry with him for the spanking. Not that she was going to EVER let him do anything like that again. He had to learn to stop being so domineering.

Looking into his eyes she brushed her lips against his own again and promised against them “You won’t.”

Spike gently picked Buffy up; cradling her in his arms as if she was the most precious burden he ever carried. He set her on the bed, trying to ignore his guilt pang when the pressure on her sore bottom meeting the bed made her hiss painfully. Maybe he had gone too far. He shouldn’t have spanked her when he was that angry. Although the throbbing in his cheek stopped him from apologising. He had already paid his price.

Buffy waited for Spike to lie down and then crawled on top of him, lying face down on his chest. That hurt a lot less.

Spike played with Buffy’s hair, reassured by the simple feel of her silky strands between his fingers. “We’ll rest a couple hours and then leave,” he told her. “You can drive while the sun is still up and then I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

Buffy nodded her agreement on Spike’s chest, saying, “the sooner we get there the better. I don’t want to run anymore.”

Spike lay still beneath the exhausted Slayer. When he was positive she had fallen asleep he whispered the words he had held back all day; words that he wasn’t ready to admit even to himself, although his lips were all too ready to form them.

As if those words had the power to knock him out, he immediately fell asleep too.

Chapter 16: Is there any saying more classic than ‘I’m bored’?

Spoken by Dawn to her youngest daughter while driving her to school

“It is unlikely that your uncle Spike meant it when he told you that Buffy was a brat, who couldn’t spend more than 5 minutes sitting still in a car. My sister is quite the active woman and so she prefers moving around and being in action instead of being confined in a car. There is nothing wrong with that, right? Why you could even say that her habit of tapping her fingers on the dashboard is just a sign of her musical aptitude. Anyone can tap out a verse of ‘99 bottles of beer on the wall,’ but the entire song, from 99 bottles to 1, well, that is true talent.”

Then giving her daughter a conspiring look Dawn added, “but if you heard her sing it out loud… well that would be her musical un-talent.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Spike scowled at Buffy, looking pointedly at her drumming fingers on the dashboard. Finally exasperated with her annoying tapping he barked out “Stop that now.”

Buffy looked up at Spike managing to create an expression of surprise and innocence on her face. “Oh, I’m sorry Spike” she sweetly apologised. Score one for her; he was at least talking to her again. This whole road trip was about the most boring thing she had ever had to endure. She would rather submit to an hour-long lecture by Giles on the Slayer’s duties than spend 5 more minutes stuck in this car. Who had ever heard of a car without a radio? All she could do was sit here and think. Think. Think. Think. Stupid brain.

Spike knew something was up with Buffy. She had been doing various things to annoy him for that last half hour. Buffy’s apparent boredom had quickly escalated after he took over the driving at sundown. With nothing to do but stare at the moving scenery through the sections of window that weren’t covered by paint, she had resorted to wilfully vexing him.

First she had turned the heat on full blast and then a minute later off. Then on. Then off. Then on. He had just reached over and turned it off, politely mentioning that considering it was summer they might not need the heat on. She had agreed readily and opened the window a bit to get some fresh air. Then shut it. Opened it. Shut it. Opened it. Shut it. Spike restricted himself to only tightening his hands, noticeably, on the wheel, determined to pay no attention to her antics.

That was when she took off her shoes and socks, placing her sweaty feet on his dashboard. Feet that had probably gotten sweaty because she had turned on the heat so high earlier. Then leaning back she stretched her toes towards the roof of the car. Then she shifted one leg out towards his side of the car, just brushing the tip of her toes over his gelled hair. After a quick, obviously fake apology she turned in her seat and let her feet hang slightly out of the window, which was opened once again, leaning her back against his side. He was proud that he managed to not give her a swift elbow to the ribs and scream, “stay on your own bloody side, Slayer!”

But this tapping was the last straw. He thought he could wait her out. I mean how difficult could it be to ignore a little tap-tap noise. It was barely audible. Well, ok, he was a Vamp and so maybe it was a bit louder to him, but nothing extraordinary. Those were exactly his thoughts 20 minutes ago. If he hadn’t said anything at long last the silly bint would have tap-tapped her fingers into bloody stubs. Stubborn idiot! As it was he was sure the tips of her fingers were pinkish and sore.

Buffy peered up through her lashes at the once again silent Spike. He hadn’t even acknowledged her apology. Bored with trying to get his attention ‘subtly’ she decided to take a more direct approach. In a pitch perfected during childhood car-trips she whined, “I’m bored.”

Spike replied in a dusty tone that rivalled even Giles’ starchiest pitch, saying, “I’m sorry I hadn’t noticed.”

Attempting to choke back her laughter, Buffy finally surrendered to the silliness of the situation with a staccato of chuckles, sniggers and the occasional snort. Suddenly Spike was the funniest person on earth.

Spike look bewilderedly at Buffy holding onto her stomach as her mirth started up an ache across the middle of her abdomen.

Buffy looked up at Spike, and in an attempt to explain her amusement mimicked his earlier sentence in the Giles tone. Although her snort of laughter at the end kind of ruined the effect she was aiming for.

Spike sighed with a sense of surrender. He pulled over to the side of the road thinking quickly of how he was going to comfort Buffy. It was becoming more and more obvious as he drove along that she was using the childish tactics to draw his attention, but not because she was bored. She was afraid. The uncontrollable, on the verge of hysteria laughter just seconds ago confirmed her high state of nervousness. God, he didn’t know if he could deal with this properly. Females were so bloody sensitive and the Slayer was worst than most with her always-keep-my-true-feelings-bottled-up attitude. Well at least most of the time. There was nothing to do but hit the nail directly on the head.

“Buffy, they are not going to turn their backs on you. I promise,” he said, looking searchingly into her eyes.

Buffy started to deny comprehension but then signed and asked in a whisper-quiet voice “How do you know?”

Spike sat there quietly considering the various ways he could explain it to her: that her friends had already stuck with her through tough times and wouldn’t desert her now; that her mother had never given up on her despite the rocky road they had already travelled and so she wouldn’t give in now, but in the end he settled for “I just know.”

Buffy looked up at Spike with the most forlorn face he had ever seen. “Please, Spike, we need to plan this out. We can’t just show up and expect them to open their arms,” she told him, throwing her own hands dramatically in the air. “Do you think it will be easy? That I will just show up say ‘Hi guys. How’s it going? Me? Well Dru has sent her demon hit squad to kill me,” she mocked, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Oh, and I’m hanging out with the evil Undead too by the ways. Well, no, he doesn’t have a soul. Yes, I do remember that he tried to kill us, numerous times. No, Wait I can explain. Willow? Giles? Xander?” Buffy yelled, finishing her pretend reunion. Then looking sardonically at Spike she added, “In case you didn’t recognize it, that is the moment in which all of my friends in this world turn their backs on me. They would never accept me if I’m with you.”

Well on the plus side at least the Slayer was sharing her feelings and not hiding them inside, Spike tried to console himself, momentarily. Oh hell, this was going to be nearly impossible. He should have just kept quiet and dragged her back home. Once she was there things would just happen instead of her sitting here and imagining the worst-case scenarios. Besides he didn’t appreciate being referred to as the ‘evil Undead’ in that tone. She said it like she was talking about associating with a slimy pimp or a lowly drunkard. Unluckily for Buffy, her last comment roused Spike’s anger more quickly then any of her earlier antics could have.

Looking resentfully at her he bit out “Well isn’t that convenient? Your own personal scapegoat. If your friends turn their backs on you it isn’t their fault or because of something you did. Nope, it is because of me. The ‘evil Undead’ who has risked his own life saving yours –more than once I might add- and is now returning you back to your bosom buds and mum.” Grabbing her chin firmly he tipped her face back and slowly pronounced “You Ungrateful Bitch!”

Buffy bit back the apology that was on the tip of her tongue. She wouldn’t apologise. She wouldn’t. Her friends would never accept the two of them being together. Then there was Giles and her mother. Her mom didn’t even accept her being a Slayer. What would she say if Buffy told her she was in a relationship with a Vampire? “Look you know they won’t accept you. They don’t know about what you are like… now. Just let me… just give me some time to tell them. I already have so much to discuss… so much to catch up on. I need some time. Some distance,” Buffy pleaded.

“Time not distance” Spike insisted, finally. “I won’t say anything, but I will stay right by your side. I’m not going to give some nasty the chance to gobble you up, Slayer.” You belong to me, he finished saying in his head. Mine to protect.

Buffy could see that Spike was very firm about this point. At least he hadn’t tried to stay as close to her as he had implied the first night… so far she didn’t have to be in the bathroom with him when he took a piss. But if she pushed him then it might come down to that. It wasn’t a point she felt was in her best interest to argue for the time being. Throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight she acknowledged his terms. Inside, she gratefully admitted that Spike was one of the most important people in her life right now, despite what she had said. She needed him so much. Who else would have seen right though to her fears so quickly, and called her on it? It was just that the approval of her friends and family had always been so important to her. And Spike still was evil, her inner voice alleged.

Spike used his sleeve to dry up the few tears that had escaped when she had talked about losing her friends. Quietly he whispered to her “I will be right by your side Slayer.” Pause “Buffy.”

Putting on her brave face and ignoring her inner voice Buffy said, “Take me home, please.”

Chapter 17: Moms have great cookies, good right hooks and built in lie detectors

Xander’s Message on Buffy and Spike’s Wedding Tape
…The thing I remember most about Buffy’s homecoming was the mud. I swear she still had crusty bits of it coming out of her ears three days later. Of course Spike still made with the man-in-love-looks for her, although the rest of us didn’t see it then, except perhaps for her mom. He even brushed bits of the slimy brown off the tip of her nose. And let me tell you, Buff, I don’t think all of it was mud. He must have fallen head over heels for you right at the start. Then again, you are the Buffster, who wouldn’t have fallen madly in love with you. Spike, man, you never stood a chance. And I’ll have you know, Buff, despite what our fanged, bleached friend accused, I did not yell out ‘Woo, mud wrestling.’

Boom!

Thunder rumbled on as the next jagged shaft of lightening cracked the dark, starless sky. Buffy shivered despite the warmth in the car. She hated storms. They always seemed to portend something, usually something nasty.

When she was eight she had told her mom that she believed storms were evil. Of course her mom had laughed and asked her, “Why?” She told her, “Because something bad always happens after them.” Her mom had hugged her close and said, “Buffy, honey, the bad things don’t happen because of the storms. Bad things just happen. Kind of like the storms just happen.”

Buffy remembered that she had looked up at her mom, unconvinced. Her mom had tried to explain it further by saying, “Remember how daddy use to tell you that if you kill a spider then the next day it will rain?” When Buffy nodded she asked, “Well, does it always rain the next day when you kill a spider?” Buffy shook her head no, waiting for the importance of spiders and rain to be explained. Her mom continued carefully, “but sometimes it does rain the next day when you kill a spider, right?” Waiting for the predictable nod, her mom told her, “So that is a coincidence.”

Naturally Buffy had asked, “What is a coincidence?” Today, with the recent events and the raging storm, Buffy thought about her mom’s reply: “A coincidence is when two things happen that appear to be connected, but really they are not. Like sometimes when you kill a spider it rains too, but not always. When they happen together it is a coincidence. That’s all. You don’t have to be afraid of coincidences.”

Later on Buffy had learned that some people use coincidences to their advantage, relying on the probabilities of certain events happening to writing horoscopes or act as fortunetellers. But she had also learned that her mom was wrong. Some coincidences were to be feared. And however you wanted to label it, fate or coincidence, storms always portended something bad. Something evil.

Something for a Slayer.

“Spike? Spike! Wake up,” Buffy called out to her slumbering companion.

Boom.

Buffy glanced over to see Spike illuminated in a brief flash of cold brilliance that reached through the unpainted sections of glass. Still sleeping. So much for the glorified Vamp hearing. Not prepared to spend even one more second alone in this storm, Buffy reached over and poked Spike in the ribs. Hard.

“Piss off,” Spike warned the poking finger. Couldn’t a body get a couple winks anymore? A few seconds away from returning to his sleep, he remembered exactly where he was, and more importantly, who would be poking him.

“Alright Pet, I’m going wake up. Just give a bloke a few seconds to wipe… Ouch, What the…” Opening one eye to glare at Buffy he protested, “I was about to wake up. No need for any more finger daggers. Thank you.”

“Sorry,” Buffy offered. “I had to be sure. You sleep heavier than Xander in history class.”

“I was talking before you poked me. Something commonly accepted as a sign of wakefulness,” Spike complained. “Besides, I don’t have anything in common with that sodding friend of yours.”

“Well there is sleep talking you know, Spike.”

Boom

“I slept though this?” Spike asked, disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Buffy answered, exasperated. “Although it just started,” she amended, not prepared to grump-ify Spike. She needed him to be happy and talkative, not grouchy and giving her the silent treatment.

“Well, that explains it then,” he said, appeased.

Buffy wisely kept silent. She was getting good at figuring out when not to say things. Spike was so prickly and emotional. Not that she would tell him that she thought so. That would just offend his stupid manly pride. Besides he would deny it.

“How far are we from Sunnyhell?” Spike inquired, sitting up and peering through the tiny crack of clear glass at the edge of the windshield.

“A few miles, maybe.” She glanced out at the lone gas station that marked the outskirts of town. Its dark windows flashed back at her in the lightning, giving her goosebumps. Shaking off her apprehension, she turned back towards her companion.

“Listen, Spike, when we get to my house… could you just wait here, in the car? I need to go in and talk to my mom first, ok?”

Spike sucked his cheeks inwards; a habit she had come to recognise meant he was contemplating something. Usually the recipients of that particular gesture ended up hearing something they didn’t want to, like one of his signature snide remarks. Or some unwanted advice.

“I can’t let you do that, pet,” Spike finally said.

Bingo. She could read him like a book.

“Who knows what’s waiting for you in Sunnydale. I can’t leave you unprotected,” he insisted.

“I can protect myself, Spike.” -Despite recent events- “I am the Slayer, a fact you conveniently seem to keep forgetting.”

“Yeah, and you were doing a real swell job against that Tuyen demon before I arrived.”

“I was just deciding on how to kill it. So many choices. Unlike some people, I don’t rashly jump into things. I like to…” Buffy broke off as Spike obnoxious laughter drowned out her words.

“You aren’t exactly known as the coolest, calmest, most collected Slayer, pet. It’s gotten around that you are a bit impulsive. Guess it was that time you…”

“Fine, Spike,” Buffy interrupted. “So I’m a doer, not a thinker. Doesn’t matter. I get the job done.”

Spike acknowledged this with a nod. “I know, but still, we both saw what the female Vamp was capable of. She held you helpless against a brick wall in full sunlight. Not a whiff of smoke. She tossed you like a rag doll. Not even a bit exhausted. If I hadn’t transferred my power… God, Buffy, do you know what could have happened?”

“She would have Turned me,” Buffy said.

“What?” Spike snapped. “You didn’t tell me this. You never mentioned… why would she? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. She said she was going to make me her match.”

“Make you her match? Dru wants you dead, not Turned. She fears you too much to allow you to be Turned.”

“It was weird. The Vamp said she was ‘disappointed’ by my powers, like I couldn’t put up a good enough fight for her. She knew I was the Slayer and she kept on calling me sis. Right before she tried to bite me she said that she was going to ‘make me her match’, even though Dru wouldn’t like it.” Buffy explained, if somewhat belatedly. “I’d forgotten about all that, what with your near fatal sunburn and then your sudden brainless need to play some S&M.”

Before Spike could respond she yelled, “Oh my God. I just remembered something else. She said she hadn’t been the perfect Childe. When she was going to Turn me she said, ‘it’s not what Dru wanted, but I haven’t been the perfect Childe.’”

“Dru’s Childe?” Spike whispered, incredulously. “She made a new Childe?”

“I don’t think she could have been new, she was too strong. How do you know this isn’t one of her other Childer, from before?”

“I’m the only Childe she ever made. Before. I was the only Childe before. This female is new. I couldn’t figure it out when you were fighting her. She was so powerful, but she hadn’t seemed old. And a Childe… I never suspected.”

“Maybe whatever that witch did to Dru to restore her strength altered her powers too. Now she can make super-Vamps. But that doesn’t explain why her Childe wanted to Turn me.”

“I don’t care why. She’s never going to get that chance again,” Spike growled, Vamp faced. His demon was furious that another Vampire had nearly bit Buffy. She was marked. That the other Vamp had even tried to sink her fangs into Buffy was a direct challenge to his demon.

“You’re right. Next time that I see that bitch…”

“You will run,” Spike interrupted. “She’s too strong for you to take alone.”

“She’s strong, but I can handle her. She just caught me by surprise. As I believe I’ve mentioned before, I am the Slayer. The Vampire Slayer.”

“You’ll run, Buffy,” Spike insisted.

Buffy decided not to comment as they pulled into Revello Drive. “Spike, we’re here,” she said, instead. Getting out of the car, she walked up to the door and knocked.

Quietly.

“She’s not going to hear that,” Spike criticized, knocking more loudly himself.

“Just move over,” Buffy grumped, pushing him out of view of the door. “I don’t want her to see you right away.” So much for him waiting in the car. As Buffy waited she combed her fingers through her hair and licked her lips. Knocking again, Buffy asked, “Do I look ok?”

“Beautiful.”

Smiling her appreciation, Buffy faced the door again.

“You’re mom isn’t a heavy sleeper, is she?” Spike asked as they continued to wait.

“No, she wakes up if a pin drops on the floor. Made it hell whenever I had to sneak out to patrol…” Buffy looked up at Spike in alarm.

“What is it, pet?”

“What if something’s wrong? That Vampire could have gotten here. She knew I was the Slayer, knew my name. What if she knew where my mom lived?” Buffy frantically screamed.

Buffy immediately kicked down the door, shouting for her mother. She ran up the stairs, heedless of Spike’s demands for her to invite him in. She couldn’t hear him over her heartbeat anyway. Adrenaline pumped her blood furiously through her veins, urging her to run up the stairs. Slamming doors open as she checked each room, Buffy grew more frantic and upset. Coming back down the stairs, she caught sight of Spike throwing himself futilely against the invisible barrier blocking his entrance.

“Spike, come in,” Buffy yelled, watching him tumble though the door as she spoke the invitation.

Spike picked himself off the floor and ran over to Buffy’s side. Anger and worry flashed yellow in his eyes, but given the situation he fought them back. “Buffy, she’s not here. I can’t smell her strongly. She must have gone out.”

“No, no,” a panicked Buffy denied. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t here. I didn’t protect her. I let the Vamp get away. And now she has my mom. Spike, please, help me,” Buffy pleaded, falling to the floor in a hysterical heap.

Spike bent down and picked her up, carrying her towards the car. He soothed her, telling her all sorts of platitudes: your mom just went out to pick something up; she’s staying late at the gallery; she’s out on a date. He didn’t mention the fact that it was after midnight.

Buffy felt so light in his arms, almost childlike, and it make him realize how young she still was. He felt the need to take care of her and protect her even more strongly.

He placed a slightly calmer Buffy in the passenger seat. She still was ranting about the Vampire taking her mother, but the rant at least was comprehensible. In accordance with Buffy’s pleas, he drove to the graveyard. Buffy wanted to check there first. He didn’t question her instincts.

Buffy didn’t even wait for Spike to park the car, jumping out of the moving vehicle as soon as he slowed. She dashed into the graveyard.

Spike left the car in the middle of the road and chased after Buffy. She had a good ten meters on him, which he was steadily decreasing. Steadily but slowly. He didn’t bother to waste his breath calling for her. Obviously she wasn’t going to listen. He switched to his game face, alert for danger and prepared to tear apart anything that attacked her.

Buffy’s voice had already deteriorated to a hoarse croak, but she still called for her mother. In between calls she muttered: “Please let her be safe. Please let her be safe.” Racing around the headstones she looked rapidly side-to-side, searching for any glimpse of her mother or friends. Or the brunette Vampire.

Spike spotted the group of people at the far end of the graveyard before Buffy, his yellow eyes catching the dull glow of lamplight off of Joyce’s hair. Then he saw a fledgling charging towards Joyce.

“Buffy, on your left. Hurry,” he yelled to her, realizing that she could handle the fledgling and her mum needed help fast.

Joyce looked up from the fledgling she was about to stake as she heard her daughter’s voice calling her name. Her daughter. HER DAUGHTER. The fledgling ran into her, pushing Joyce to the ground under him.

Giles yanked the fledgling off of Joyce, still unaware his Slayer rushing towards them. Only a mother could have picked up such a faint voice. “Joyce, you have to keep focused,” he lectured. “Now try again,” he advised, stepping back to watch his newest pupil. He called for Xander and Willow to catch up so they could step in if needed. He preferred that his students got to do the actual staking when possible, instead of himself. It was the only way they would learn this particular art.

Joyce staked the Vamp that was unknowingly keeping her from looking for her daughter. The fledgling didn’t stand a chance.

Buffy leaped towards the fledgling standing threateningly in front of her mother, hands out to grab him and take him flying hard into the ground. Except all her hands met was dust.

Spike watched as Buffy leaped past her mum and headed face first into a puddle the size of Lake Michigan. He finished jogging towards Joyce, who was focused totally on her airborne daughter. Unfortunately, he was focused entirely on said daughter also.

Giles wasn’t so distracted. He had spent too many nights of late carrying out the tiny bit of his Slayer’s duties that he could. The time he spent had trained him to fully use all his senses, to be much more aware of everything going on. And that usually meant ignoring what was going on in front of him because danger almost always came from behind.

Spike grunted in pain as Giles outstretched leg sent him flying into the ground just short of the muddy swamp Buffy was lying in. As he impacted the soggy ground face first, feeling his nose crunch, it occurred to him how bad it must have looked with him chasing after Buffy.

“Joyce, quick, your stake,” Giles shouted at the shocked woman.

The word stake had Spike picking himself off the ground rather rapidly. He spun around and caught the kick Giles had aimed at his lower back. Dropping the Watcher’s foot he yelled, “Wait. Stop.” The words had no effect on Giles, who just reached over to pluck the stake out of Joyce’s fingers, intent on dusting this latest threat to his long absent Slayer.

Spike was able to kick the Watcher’s own legs out from under him as he reached out. Content that Giles was temporarily rendered less of a danger to him, Spike turned back towards Buffy.

Buffy pushed up off the ground, feeling the squishy, cold clay squirt between her fingers. The mud dripped off of her face, plastering pieces of hair to her cheeks and making it nearly impossible to open her mouth without getting a generous taste it. She heard Willow’s voice screaming Xander’s name, telling him, “Hurry, they need help.” Then she heard Spike call for her and turned towards his voice, daring to open one mud caked eye to see him.

Joyce watched as the Vamp took out Giles and headed towards her daughter. Buffy was still struggling to get out of the mud. Joyce’s protective mother’s instincts were aroused. Raising her hand she brought it down to the Vamp’s back, staking him right though the heart as Giles had taught her.

Buffy’s anguished scream pierced the air, making Spike grab his ears in a protective gesture. He had seen Giles grab Joyce’s stake earlier, but apparently Buffy hadn’t. Joyce had merely tapped him in the back with her closed fist. He had never been happier to see Buffy so miserable. She cared.

Joyce pulled her fist back in astonishment. Her stake. What happened to her stake? Determined to pummel the evil creature with her bare hands in order to protect her precious daughter, she drew back another fist and let it fly. Right into her sweet daughter’s slime covered chin.

Buffy staggered slightly under her mom’s solid blow. She had quickly jumped up in front of Spike when she realized he hadn’t dusted. Hadn’t been staked. Spike caught her around the waist and supported her. That’s when Buffy decided it would be prudent to shriek like a banshee.

“STOP!”

“Ok, ok. We’ll stop if the mud creature stops her caterwauling,” Xander bargained.

Giles spoke from behind Joyce, “Buffy do stop that noise at once.”

“Buffy?” Willow and Xander simultaneously voiced.

Buffy immediately stopped shrieking but spit out, “Don’t hurt Spike.”

Joyce gave her daughter the you-have-some-explaining-to-do stare and asked the Vamp still holding her daughter, “Is that you, Spike?”

“Yes, mom. It’s Spike. And he’s not going to hurt me, or anyone else. He’s my… friend,” Buffy lamely finished. She tried to ignore the tightening of Spike’s grip on her arms. He obviously didn’t concur with her labelling of their relationship.

Giles wearily enquired, “He doesn’t have a soul too, does he?”

Deciding that she could buy some time Buffy vaguely replied, “Um, it’s complicated.”

Looking at the familiar way that Spike was holding her daughter, Joyce repeated, “Friend?” Her bullshit-o-metre was blinking.

Spike stepped around Buffy to face the others. “Look, your daughter is telling the truth. I won’t hurt anyone. I promise. But we have a long story to tell and it would be better done at your house. Bu… the Slayer needs to clean up and rest,” Spike pointed out, reaching out to brush some of the gook off her nose. “She’s injured,” Spike added, smelling his hand suspiciously. Oh, bloody brilliant. On that thought he finished, “We all could do with some cleaning up.”

Author’s Note: Where’s Cordy or Oz? (Embarrassed shrug) I dunno. They were gonna be in here, but they just wouldn’t write themselves. So big leap from canon. No Cordy or Oz (though I love ‘em to pieces). It’s my first fic and I’ve got enough *issues*, so I decided to let this one slide. Hopefully, you will too!

Next chapter (coming soon...)

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Impetuous

by Hang Nga & Chanel

Chapter 19: All reunions require hot chocolate, some tears and big-fat lies

A letter from Joyce to her youngest granddaughter,

Dearest granddaughter,

…Your uncle Spike said a few things that worried me that night. Not to mention I thought he had a strange kind of tic; he kept on jerking his hand away whenever he brought it close to his face. But I kept thinking to myself, how bad can a man who likes little marshmallows in his hot chocolate be?

“My door!” Joyce exclaimed, disbelievingly.

“Um, sorry mom,” Buffy responded. Toeing the ground and looking down guiltily, she said, “Spike kind of kicked it in when you didn’t answer. We were worried about you… afraid that something had…”

Spike gave Buffy a ferocious look.

“No sweat, Buff. Giles and I should be able to fix it,” Xander offered. Then looking more closely, he asked, “Are you sure the door was locked when Spike tangled with it?”

Willow popped her head next to Xander’s running her hand over the deadbolt. “There isn’t much damage to the deadbolt or to the door frame for the lock…”

Blushing under her impromptu mud facial, Buffy replied, “I…um…Spike… forgot to check.”

Nearly caught herself out on that one, Spike thought.

Overjoyed that her daughter was back and afraid of saying anything to chase her off again, Joyce just wrapped an arm around her daughter and said, “Don’t worry about it honey.” Then more quietly, for her daughter’s ears only, she whispered, “Thanks for rushing to my rescue. You’re my hero.”

Spike’s Vamp hearing had picked up Joyce’s whispered declaration. He watched as Buffy’s hazel eyes, made even more prominent by the mud that covered face, lit up with happiness. Thank you Joyce, he mouthed soundlessly. They were perfect welcoming words.

Giles ushered everyone into the house, carefully shutting the broken door. “Why don’t we all sit in the kitchen? That way we won’t drip on the carpet.” Then looking at Joyce he asked, “That is, if it is alright with you, Joyce?”

“I’ll make some tea and hot chocolate for everyone.

“Dibs on the shower,” Buffy shouted, heading for the stairs.

“We would pay you to shower. No need to call dibs,” Xander said, subtly pinching his nose shut against her odorous presence.

“Xander!” Willow censured. “Buffy doesn’t smell that bad.”

“Gee thanks, Will,” Buffy responded.

“It’s nothing that scrubbing twice… or perhaps three times wouldn’t cure,” Willow mumbled.

“Well I’m for a vanilla scented sudsy steam-a-thon,” Buffy told them. Then leaning over to Spike she whispered, “I’ll be back down in a jiffy.” She was worried about him being alone with people who were still practically strangers to him.

Giles turned to Xander and asked him to grab the toolbox from in the basement. Relieved that her Watcher was going to be too busy to harass Spike, she plodded up the stairs, weighed down by the heavy mud and gladly headed towards the bathroom, with its promise of a steamy, clean shower.

Fifteen minutes later Buffy came back down, her wet hair smelling like her favourite shampoo. Everyone was sitting around the table sipping their hot drinks. Seeing Spike had little marshmallows bobbing around in his, she gave him a quick smirk.

Willow was the first to notice her entrance. “Buffy, come sit over here. Did you want tea or hot chocolate?”

Smiling gratefully at her best friend’s welcome, Buffy told her “Hot chocolate please.”

When everyone was seated again Joyce stood up to get their attention. “I have something that I need to tell Buffy and I think you all should hear it too.” Pausing for a second she began, “Buffy and I didn’t come to Sunnydale under the best of circumstances. We moved here hoping to start over, to make things better for ourselves. A clean slate.”

Looking at her daughter, she continued, “But you didn’t get that second chance to start over because you couldn’t leave everything behind. Your slayer duties stayed with you. You had a whole other life that I knew nothing about. Buffy, honey, I was so busy trying to change things for us… I didn’t see what was really happening to you. And when you finally told me, on one of the most difficult… most difficult days of your life, I forced you out of our home because I couldn’t accept that things weren’t as normal as I wanted them to be.”

As Joyce broke off, crying, Buffy pulled her mom close for a hug and told her, “Mom, it’s ok. I just blurted it out to you. You weren’t prepared. I should have known you didn’t mean it.”

“No Buffy, it really isn’t ok,” Joyce insisted. “I can’t take back that mistake, but I can tell you that I feel differently now. Rupert has helped me understand some of what it is like to be the Slayer, what sort of things you go through, and I want to be a part of your life, your entire life. I realize that Slaying is a part of you that can never be taken away, even by a misguided mother.”

Touched and at a loss for words, Buffy just hugged her mom close. Spike had been right. Her mom loved her. She wanted her.

“Joyce, that was a difficult day for all of us. We may all have acted differently if we got to do it over again,” Giles admitted. “I think I speak for us all when I say we are happy you’re back, Buffy. And if Spike was the one to bring you back to us, I thank him too.”

Everyone paused as a moment of strong emotions silenced the room.

Xander, unable to hold back any more blurted out “But Spike? You do still slay vampires, right?”

“He’s with me because…”

“She’s in trouble,” Spike interrupted, not prepared to let Buffy wiggle her way out of this one.

“Trouble?” Joyce and Willow echoed, clearly disturbed.

“Danger,” Spike clarified.

“Shut up, Spike!” Buffy whispered, furious with him. Great, now she had to do damage control. She smacked the back of his head, unimpressed with his honesty.

“They had to know, Lu… Slayer. You’re going to have to tell them about the curse,” Spike pointed out, rubbing the back of his skull.

“Curse? Is Spike’s soul cursed too? Like An…” Xander broke off, belatedly deciding mentioning Angel’s name wouldn’t be prudent. When Giles had told Joyce that they all might have done something differently before, he’d felt guilty over his own *omisson* to Buffy about *that day*. It would probably be best if he didn’t mention it to her now… they couldn’t change things anyway… and he didn’t want to lose Buffy, again.

“No, I wasn’t cursed with a soul like the poofter,” Spike was quick to respond, upset at be compared to his brooding sire. “I’m perfectly soulless, thank you very much.”

Willow and Joyce eyed Spike apprehensively as Giles took control of the conversation. “Buffy could you please tell us EXACTLY what is going on? All of it.”

Oh, yippee. Thanks to Spike she was going to have to change her ‘planned’ story on the fly. Buffy started, “Angelus… mom that is the guy…”

“I know who he is” her mom replied. The temperature of her voice gave Spike goosebumps.

“Well, Angelus, he sent a demon healer to Dru… she’s a female Vampire that Angelus made… and the healer, she made Dru very powerful. Dru was mad because… when I sent Angel to Hell… because of Acathla…”

Nobody picked up on Buffy’s reference to sending Angel to hell and not Angelus, except for Spike. It was too subtle. Although Spike noticed that the boy flinched. Interesting. When he realized that Buffy couldn’t finish her story he helped her out.

“Dru wanted revenge on anyone involved in giving the poofter his one way ticket to the place of everlasting toasty toes,” Spike continued for her. “She put a witch under her thrall…”

“So Vampires have a ‘thrall’?” Willow interrupted, clearly intrigued by the idea.

“Some do,” Spike explained. “Anyways, with the witch under her power, Dru had the lure to allow her to organize a little bounty hunt, with the objective being the Slayer’s head.”

Ok, she hadn’t planned on saying it like that at all, Buffy lamented. In fact, she wasn’t going to tell them any of that. Just the necessary parts like… well, none of that. Demons and Vamps were after her all the time. No one had to scare her mom by telling her about one particular Vampire wanting her head… literally.

“My daughter’s… head? What? Rupert, you are going to have to do something about this. That Vampire wants Buffy dead,” Joyce yelled, agitated.

“Joyce, we won’t let that happen. This Drusilla will be dealt with.”

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Buffy warned him, realizing she had to explain more now. She needed them to understand that she had to face this danger on her own. Well, maybe with Spike too. This was partly his fault. She couldn’t think of how it was his fault, but somehow it was. Looking at Giles she decided to tell him about the Brunette. “Dru is a lot more powerful now, and she has a witch to help her. Also, she made a very powerful Childe.”

“A Childe is another vampire, right?” Joyce asked, looking at Giles.

“Yes, but special… and what do you mean she made a powerful Childe. If the Childe was just recently made, it would be weak, like a fledgling still. Unsure, inexperienced and easy for a Slayer to kill.”

“Giles, this Childe attacked us yesterday. She was stronger than me and she could stand in the sun without combusting.” There, that was enough to let them know that this was strictly Slayer-only business, Buffy thought.

Spike noticed that Buffy hadn’t mentioned the attempted Turning.

“Buffy are you ok? Did she hurt you,” Willow asked, looking worriedly over Buffy’s body.

“I’m fine Will, thanks. It was just a surprise.”

Xander said, “I’m glad you’re ok Buff. Now can you tell me where the bleached…”

“Hey,” Spike objected, well aware that the sidekick was about to insult him. Pretentious idiot. What make him so perfect that he could go around throwing stones?

“Xander, do be quiet,” Giles ordered. “Now then, Spike, maybe you can tell us how you fit into all of this?”

“Dru was angry because I helped the Slayer. Bu… The Slayer and I had a deal. I helped her get in to free you and she let me leave with Dru. Anyways, Dru got the witch to curse me. Now, is that any way to repay me for all I did for her? I give her the best bloody century of my unlife and what do I…” He broke off with a look from his Slayer. “Right. So now I’m dust if the Slayer dies.”

“You have to ‘protect’ Buffy?” Xander asked, incredulous.

Buffy answered, “He chose to help keep me safe. We made our own deal. He’s not killing, in fact he’s…”

Spike elbowed Buffy in the stomach before she could announce that mortifying little tidbit. Bagging it like the poofter.

“He helped me fight off the demons Dru’s sent after me so far… and he got me back home.” Well, he got me back home after fighting off a couple of demons, robbing a blood bank, fighting more Vamps, and other such stuff; those were the unnecessary details.

“Well, it’s good that you brought her back, Spike,” Giles said. “Buffy, we can do some research tomorrow to see if we can find out anything about this witch and why Dru was able make such a powerful Childe.”

And he could also interrogate both his Slayer and the uneasy looking Vampire more easily. That is, separately, so he could blow holes through their respective stories.

“And the curse,” Buffy insisted, “We have to research the curse too.”

“Of course.”

“Buffy, you say this super-Childe had unusual powers. Was she able to enter your house without an invitation?” Willow asked. She still remembered what it was like when Angelus was able to enter their homes. Of course he’d had an invite then.

“No, she asked and I let her in.”

“She *asked* and you *let* her in?” Giles said, dubiously.

“We’ve already had this conversation,” Spike told them, protecting Buffy from yet another lecture.

“Buffy… how could you?” Giles said, still shocked that his Slayer would be so careless.

“She was standing in the sunlight,” Buffy said in defence.

“That explains it. I mean, how could she have known,” Willow perked up, defending Buffy after unintentionally getting her into trouble.

Giles looked up at the clock, and seeing the near morning hours said, “I think we should all get some rest and then meet this afternoon at the library, after school. We can discuss everything further then”

Joyce gathered the empty cups, leaving them piled up in the sink, and walked Giles, Xander and Willow out. Shutting her newly repaired door gently, she turned around to her daughter, behind her.

“Buffy, I’m so glad you are back,” she said, hugging her close once again.

“I am too mom,” Buffy told her.

Releasing each other, mother and daughter looked to where Spike was standing by the stairs, after having closed all the blinds and drapes on the lower level.

“Buffy your room is still… it’s still the same. Um, Spike, you could have the office for now. There’s a cot in the closet. I’m sorry, but with all the work I’ve been taking home I had to get rid of the guest room.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve slept in much worse. If it’s alright with you, I would like to have a shower first,” Spike said, uncomfortably aware of the smell still on his hand.

“Sure. Buffy, if you could set up the cot then I’ll show Spike where the shower and towels are.”

Ten minutes later Spike walked into the office, spying Buffy making up the cot in the middle of the room.

“Where’s your mum, pet?”

“She’s exhausted, passed out in bed already. Her first appointment is in 5 hours at the gallery.” Placing two pillows over the covers, she wryly commented, “I had to practically drag her to bed. She wouldn’t sleep until I promised, twice, that I would be here in the morning. And that I would have a ‘talk’ with her about everything later on. Some one-on-one.”

“Can’t blame her, luv. If I was her I would be awfully tempted to chain you to your bed. Of course I still could be tempted to…”

Buffy rolled her eyes, causing Spike to leave that sentence hanging. “Do you think we are making things worse by coming here?” Buffy asked. “I’m kind of a demon magnet right now. Won’t it just be like bringing the danger to my mom and friends?”

“Maybe. But what if you weren’t here and some demon decided to come up and kidnap your mom. Or hurt her. Or your friends. You wouldn’t be here to protect them. Your not being here won’t prevent the nasties from trying to use your mom and friends to get to you. But you can stop that from happening if you are here. Remember, this is your turf. Your rules.”

Then pausing, he added, “Besides, you need them, Buffy.”

She walked towards him, hugging him close when he opened his arms. It was comforting being cradled by his strength. Reassuring. Safe. Loved. No, not loved, she insisted to herself.

Releasing her, Spike said, “About the sleeping arrangements, I don’t know if…”

“My mom can’t know about us. No one can know. I told you before that they wouldn’t accept…”

“So I’m good enough to risk my life for yours, but not for you to tell the truth about us to others?”

“No, it’s just… Look, it was your girlfriend that screwed things up this way.” Buffy accused, defensively. “Besides, there is nothing between us…” she continued. Then eyeing Spike she back-pedalled, “What I mean is, what is between us is personal and should be kept secret.”

“I know what you meant, Slayer. You of unfailing purity and light. Can’t sully that unsoiled reputation by revealing your relationship with me, a dirty, evil Vampire,” Spike angrily pronounced, trailing one finger across her collarbone and down her arm.

Then capturing her hand and turning it palm-forward in his grasp he taunted, “But you aren’t so spotless after all, are you Slayer? There speckles of dirt here,” Spike pointed to her immaculately clean skin. “I’m not the first Vampire you have rolled in the dirt with, am I?” Spike said, sardonically.

He didn’t know why he said it. Why he was pushing it. He didn’t need her. He was just using her. A quick little roll because she was convenient. ‘Nice try’ his demon laughed inside him. Stupid self-mocking.

“Look, we had a deal, ok. We stick to the deal. You won’t kill me or anyone else, and you bag it. I let you drink. Period. If you tell anyone about us I’ll...”

“You’ll what? You seem to think I’m your tame little pet. You forget who I am; what I am.” Spike warned, looming over her.

“Let’s just exchange,” Buffy said abruptly, brushing the hair off her neck and leaning back temptingly.

“Exchange?” Spike said, questioningly. “The deal was for me to drink, not for you, pet.”
He was a little surprised she still wanted to bite him, to take active part in an exchange instead of just passively letting him bite. He had thought Buffy would do everything possible to avoid this once she was home. A lot had happened to them the last few days. A lot had been said. And in typical Buffy fashion he had expected her to draw back and put up her walls. He may not have been part of the Slayer’s inner circle before but he was a good observer. And Buffy was definitely an isolationist. Most Slayers were.

“We have to, so we’ll be prepared. Like when the Childe attacked us. If we hadn’t exchanged before…” Buffy explained, but even to her ears it sounded like an excuse. There really wasn’t much doubt that this was what she wanted. After that night in the motel when she had asked him to drink… and what had happened during… well, what was the point in denying that she wanted it too? Fine, she let her inner self win and asked, “Will you let me also? I… I need to.”

“Lean back more,” Spike commanded, not answering her question. Fisting a hand in her hair he guided her head backwards. Pulling her body flush against his own with his other arm, a reminder of his strength and his dominance at that moment, he lowered his head and bit. Taking one long, slow drink, he savoured the moment as long as he could.

Then she moaned, just a tiny, breathless sound.

Crushing her against him, he growled in response and sank his fangs deeper. He lifted her off of her feet, desperate to pull her up and into his body. Her breasts were crushed low against his chest and he could feel their hardened tips through their clothes. Her blood was so addictive, and when she moaned her appreciation of his bite he had to keep sipping it. Greedy wench, she was wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding him as close as she could to her neck. They had both craved this all day and couldn’t get enough of each other.

Without breaking contact, he lowered them both onto the cot. Continuing to sip small but precious amounts of her blood, he thought that as much as she denied their relationship she couldn’t deny this connection between them. There was no way she would react like this, like a Mate, if she’d disliked him. His demon bristled at the reminder of her denial of their *relationship*, and he drank more deeply.

Buffy tilted her head back further, unafraid of Spike’s prolonged drink. She knew he was still angry and it made his actions more aggressive, letting the demon out more. But she also knew he wouldn’t take it too far, wouldn’t hurt her. She trusted him.

His leg came to rest between hers and she moved her hand down along his back until it rested on his firm behind. His hand came up between them, sliding around her side and moulding itself around her breast. As her breathing became shallower she closed her eyes, awash with the feelings his hands, his mouth and the rest of his body, were bringing her. She was so close… she pulled his groin into hers, moaning encouragingly when he pressed his leg deeper between her thighs in response, sliding himself against her quim as he took a final sip from her neck. The culmination of all the sensations quickly pulled her over and he held her tight as she came against him, moaning into his neck so as not to make much noise.

Finally releasing her, he took his hand out of her hair so she could relax her neck, resigning himself to yet another cold shower. Bringing his own wrist to his mouth, he bit it roughly, tearing the skin to let a small trickle of blood dribble out. Placing his wrist over her mouth, he watched as she cautiously sucked some of his blood before his Vamp healing sealed the wound. Her nose wrinkled; the coppery taste wasn’t as appealing to her as to him. But he hadn’t forced her to do it. She had wanted it, he reminded himself.

Buffy looked up as she licked the last few drops from Spike’s wrist. She felt reassured by their exchange. But she also felt like there was something else, another step for them to take. Leaning up towards him she asked, “How do you do it?” Biting his earlobe with tender-roughness she entreated, “Teach me to share power with you.”

Spike leaned down to Buffy’s own ear, pausing and then whispering softly, “No.” Surprising her by licking her ear instead of reciprocating the bite, he offered, “Maybe someday, but not yet. You’re not ready.” He wasn’t ready. She was already underneath his skin, pricking his demon into doing uncharacteristic things. Last thing he needed was her further inside him. He might never get her out.

“Oh God. That so sounded like Giles,” Buffy said, whipping a pillow at him and slamming the door behind her.

Chapter 20: A stroll through the graveyard is perfect for a family outing

Sweetpea,

Now, your aunt Buffy isn’t telling the story all-proper like. Sounds more like a Pinocchio tale to me… though the nose she grows will hopefully not be wooden. Anyway, what really happened was that I was helping to train your aunt to hone her unique skills. To tell the truth, your aunt had been a bit rusty… and she had a slight hearing impairment that I kindly pointed out to her. Most of the time people don’t realize that they’re losing their hearing… and then they can’t get treatment. So you see, I was just doing my best to get your aunt Buffy back into shape. And I didn’t even get paid. Nope, all pro-bono since I’m such a generous guy. I wouldn’t ever charge my friends when they need help. In fact I’ll be the first to point out the areas they need to improve in and to make some thoughtful suggestions on how they could change. Ask your uncle Xander. He’ll tell you how I always told him what needed fixing and how to fix it. For example, Xander use to wear these Hawaiian type of shirts…

“Pig’s blood was not part of the deal. There’s no way I’m going to drink that swill.”

“But Spike, mom made a special trip to the butchers. I told her how you went all Blood-a-holics Anonymous and swore off human blood. She said that if you set a good example maybe the other Vamps will change too.”

That sent Spike off into another rant. “Set a good example? If the other Vamps find out that I’ve been reduced to bein’ the Slayer’s bloody pet, domesticated, slurping farm animal blood…” Glaring at her he said, “I refuse to do it. You can’t make me.”

She was tempted to take him up on his challenge personally, but it was so much more fun to blast him with her big gun. Her mom. “Your right, I can’t. So go tell my mom that you don’t want the pig’s blood. I can’t wait to see that.” Meeting his stare she challenged, “Go on. It’s your dusting.”

Spike watched Buffy stomp on ahead of him, checking for any fresh graves. Joyce was such a nice woman. How did she ever end up with such an obnoxious brat for a daughter?

“I expect you to microwave it next time,” he mumbled, knowing he was beat. At least he still had some human blood stashed from the blood bank robbery. He could cut the pig stuff with it.

“Slurping cold pig’s blood is the least you deserve after the way you screwed things up with Giles. He made me read an entire book on Kal’daren demons after you told him about the one you took out by the diner,” Buffy complained. “The book was at least an inch thick. And it was dusty. It was more dusty than my chemistry text.”

“You didn’t tell me that I couldn’t mention the Kal’daren.”

“Well, I noticed you conveniently forgot to tell Giles about how you nearly sucked me dry the first time…”

Spike scoffed, dismissing her claim. “It was only a few drops. Besides, you haven’t said peep about the Childe trying to Turn you yet.” She also hadn’t said anything about his daily sips of her blood. Or that he sometimes ‘borrowed’ her power. And he knew when Giles found out what he was doing to the her…

“Do you know how much that would upset Giles?” Buffy asked him, vexed. “Its not the first time some stupid Vamp has been curious about what it would be like to Turn a Slayer. And it won’t be the last. But curious is all they’re ever going to be, ‘cause I’m never going to let it happen.”

Spike remembered Buffy’s moronic but brave jump in front of the opened curtains when she had thought she had been Turned. Poor thing. She didn’t realize that if she was Turned the demon inside of her would never let her pull a stunt like that. The demon was strong. Its sense of self-preservation was strongest of all.

“Pet, the point of coming back home was so you could get help. You can’t get any if you keep all these secrets. You can’t take on this Childe on your own.”

“That’s my decision. Just don’t screw up your story any more, Spike.”

“Fine. We’ll play this your way then. By the ways, duck.”

“Duc…”

Ok that hurt. The Vamp had her plastered to the ground, face smashed into the grass. She was going to have to start wearing her old clothes during patrol if she kept ending up face first in the dirt each night.

“Suppose you didn’t hear that one coming, pet? Funny how the ‘senile, incompetent, washed-up Vamp who couldn’t even pick up the presence of three noisy fledglings five feet away’ did.”

“Shut up Spike,” Buffy ordered, elbowing the Vamp above her. Once. Twice. Ah, three’s the charm.

Spike watched as Buffy elbowed the Vamp off her and quickly rolled to safety. Then she looked up at him, expectantly.

“Oh no, I don’t think so. I didn’t agree to play,” Spike protested. Then aside to the Vamp he loudly whispered, “her left hook is a bit weak… she leaves her ribs open.”

“Spike!” Buffy screamed in disbelief. “Just shut up.” Swinging at the Vamp with her much-maligned left hook, she concentrated on not leaving her side open. “Besides, you obviously don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Vamp shook off her first blow and faked opening up on his right side. This drew out another of Buffy’s left hooks. Unfortunately she forgot to protect her ribs like she had the fist time. Not that Spike was correct. It was just, she couldn’t concentrate with Spike calling out pointers to the Vamp and egging him on.

Buffy stumbled backwards, hard, against a big gravestone. The Vamp, realizing he had the Slayer, rushed forward to claim his prize.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Spike called out, annoyed. “This is the part where you run away, mate.”

“You’re kidding right?” the Vamp replied, greedily advancing on Buffy.

Spike hurried up behind the Vamp, saying in the dangerously silky voice that Buffy had learned to respect, “She’s Claimed.”

“Who cares? This is the Slayer, man. Finders, Keepers.”

“Well I found her first,” Spike said, his demon’s hackles raised at the thought of another Vamp looking to drink from his almost Mate. Brandishing the wooden stake Buffy had forced him to take earlier, he yanked the young Vamp around, dusting him quickly. Blowing dust out of his face he muttered, “That’s the problem with the young these days, no respect for old traditions.”

“Claimed?” Buffy hissed, reaching none-too-gently for her belated hero. “What do you mean, Claimed?”

“Buffy, honey, are you ok?” Joyce’s voice rang out as she and the rest of the Scoobies rushed up to them.

“I’m fine mom,” Buffy called out, pleasantly. Then to Spike she furiously whispered, “We will talk about this later.”

As her mom finally reached them she gushed, “It’s a good thing Spike was able to patrol with you. Can you imagine what would have happened if he wasn’t here?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Buffy muttered under her breath, imagining a dusty Spike.

“What was that, Buffy?” her mom asked, not quite catching Buffy’s words. Spike just eyed Buffy warily.

“Well, I imagine that things would have turned out very differently,” Buffy sweetly said . “Thank goodness Spike-y was here.”

Giles eyed Buffy kind of strangely when she said “Spike-y” but made no comment. Not right now, at least. Taking off his glasses and polishing them, he said, “We didn’t find much, just a couple fledglings. Apparently the news of your arrival has been spread,”
Giles announced, putting his glasses back on.

“Gotta respect the demon grapevine, but we were still able to practice our moves a bit,” Willow said. “Your mom threw a stake and just missed a Vamp’s heart by like this much,” Willow raved, placing her fingers a mere inch apart.

“That’s great, mum. Did you throw it like I showed you at the library?” Spike asked, kissing up to her mom like he had all day. Momma’s Boy, she thought, mentally sticking her tongue at him. She hoped he strangled on the apron strings.

“I did, but my wrist still turned a bit.”

“It just takes practice, mum,” Spike reassured her. He exaggerated the ‘mum’ just a little bit, giving Buffy a knowing glance.

Who did he think he was, Buffy fumed. And how could her mom let him call her that. She was Buffy’s mom. Mine. Mine. Mine, Buffy childishly ranted in an internal dialogue.

“Who’s for heading out? I think I’ve had enough excitement for one evening,” Xander said. “Buffy, we’re going to have to find something else to do for fun that doesn’t involve me having a date with a steak at the end of the night,” he grumbled, pointing to his black eye.

“I’m right there with you. At this rate I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe by the end of the week,” Buffy griped, brushing the dirt stains around on her pants.

“Well, I guess you are due some back-to-school clothes anyways,” Joyce said, tsking over the grass stains on her daughter’s knees.

“Ooh, shopping goodness. I’ll come with. I need to get another calculator.” Willow informed everyone, “Mr. Smythe says we’re going to be using three new buttons this year.”

“Don’t you think you should get some duds for fang-breath too? If you’re gonna convince Snyder to let your ‘nephew’ from England work in the library for a few weeks, he should at least look the part.”

“Are you saying I don’t look like a Nancy Boy?” Spike mocked.

“Not so much. Maybe we should get you a pair of spectacles and dye your hair a nice, boring brown.”

“Hey!” two English voices protested.

“Well at least they sound alike,” Willow offered.

“I’m not bloody frump-ifying!” Spike declared.

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It'll be worth it, I promise... for example, just wait until you get to read the next chappy. The next chappy is a must-read... holy, moly is it ever. From here on out I'm gonna knock you on your ass with the chappies... er, in a good way ::smirk:: Begging me to post the next chappy is allowed... begging my beta is encouraged :p Just don't let her know I sent you!

Chapter 21: ‘Five minutes’ is as misused a phrase as ‘productive meeting’

Giles’ list of Buffy translations, last entry made today:
…
Going home to study = going to the Bronze
Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine = Something’s wrong, I’m not fine
I’ll be 5 minutes = I’m sneaking off
…
I’m writing letters to my niece = I’m corrupting my niece with stories about Spike

“Well… we have a lot to catch up on, young lady. If you want to re-register for school you are going to take these classes. Don’t interrupt me, Miss Summers. It doesn’t matter what your mother told you, there are no other classes open… to you.

‘There are no other classes open… to you’ Buffy repeated silently in her head, remembering Snyder’s gloating features. That slime. He had totally planned this; some sick type of vengeance. Why else would he have her taking advanced chemistry, calculus, physiology, physics and history? And to top her morning off, Snyder had asked her three times, ‘Why can’t you be more of a model student like William Giles?’

William, who was an honours student from London… some tiny town that nobody cares if you can’t find it on a map. William, who was working with his Uncle Giles in the library during his spring break, not partying like she, Miss Summers, would likely do. She was going to wipe that insipid, bogus smile, which she knew was really just a smirk in disguise, off that…

“Ahem, Earth to Miss Summers.”

“Yes, Mr… um… Mrs…”

“Mrs. Lowndes. Do you remember what class you are in at least, Miss Summers?”

“Physiology?”

“Good, then perhaps you could be so kind as to help us answer my question?”

“What question… I mean, could you repeat the question?”

Swallowing a sigh of impatience, Mrs. Lowndes pointed to the board.

“What has a higher affinity for Hg, oxygen or carbon monoxide?” Buffy read out loud, saying the letters HG since she didn’t know what they stood for. Then realizing the teacher was waiting for her answer, she guessed, “Oxygen?”

“Oxygen has a higher affinity for hemoglobin?” Mrs. Lowndes repeated in a tone that all students knew meant change your answer.

“Oh, Hg stands for Hemoglobin. See, I didn’t realize that. I knew that oxygen, I mean carbon dio… mono…monoxide has a higher affinity for hemoglobin.” Buffy rapidly corrected.

Watching Mrs. Lowndes nod her head perceptively, Buffy snidely thought to herself, ‘There are no other classes open… to you.’ This whole day started off bad and had only gotten worse. And she was feeling deprived since she hadn’t let Spike bite her last night. She had needed it, damn it, but until he explained… Ugh… Stupid Snyder. Stupid William Giles. And most of all, Stupid Hemoglobin!

Meanwhile in the library…

Stupid Xander. Stupid Slayer. And most of all, Stupid Glasses.

Yanking the glasses off his face, Spike rubbed the sore bridge of his nose. Buffy had managed to dig up a pair from her basement last night, after being inspired by Xander’s words in the graveyard. Still uncomfortable, he undid the top buttons on the Nancy-boy shirt Giles had, so kindly, provided him with. How could Giles stand to dress like this all the time?

And how could he spend so much time in this stuffy library without going bonkers? Oh, that’s right, he does research. Hours and hours of research, broken up by yet more research. And so far they had exactly nothing on Dru’s new strength or the Childe’s strange powers. Well, not nothing, he had two paper cuts and eyestrain brought on by trying to read with his own perfectly good eyes through somebody else’s spectacles.

Thankfully the makeover madness hadn’t extended to his hair: style or colour. Not that they wouldn’t have tried, if Joyce hadn’t stopped it all by sending everyone home or to bed.

Afterwards he waited in his temporary office-bedroom for Buffy to come to him so he could drink. But she didn’t come. Despite her earlier insistence that they should stick by the deal. And this morning when they had parted ways she’d threatened that until he told her exactly what he meant by her being Claimed, there wouldn’t be any more nightcaps.

“Spike, could you handle the checkout desk?” Giles asked him, calling him away from his thoughts.

Great, he got to play errand boy again. Giles had decided there was no good reason to tear himself away from his precious books since Spike was there to do his job. Signing out books to annoying teenagers he before would have eaten for lunch, was not his idea of a good time.

Putting his glasses back on, Spike jogged over to the counter where a pretty blonde was waiting, noisily smacking her gum.

“Can I help you?” Spike asked impatiently.

Smack. Smack. The girl chewed her gum with her mouth open, slowly looking him over from his head to where the rest of his body disappeared beneath the desk.

“Well… hello,” the girl said, emphasising the ‘hello.’ “Jennifer wasn’t kidding when she said the new librarian was hot. In a geeky kind of young Brad Pitt way.”

“Excuse me?” Spike said, guarded. “I’m not a new librarian. I’m Mr. Giles nephew, William.”

“Well Willy, I’m Harmony. Now let’s see, I’m sure we can fix you up. Maybe we could just take these off,” she said, leaning over to remove Spike’s crooked glasses.

“Sp… William, what are you doing?” Buffy’s not-so-dulcet voice rang out.

Jumping away from the blonde twit that he supposed was the cause of Buffy’s anger, he stuttered, “N, n, n… Nothing.”

Harmony giggled and pulled Buffy aside, signalling for Spike to wait a minute. “Buffy, nice to see you back.”

“Um, thanks Harmony. But what the heck are you doing? Fraternizing with the librarian?” Buffy said, saying the word ‘librarian’ like she would calculus – that is with absolute horror and disgust.

Giggle. “Fraternizing?”

“Socializing? Hanging out?”

“No. It’s just a bet. I’m supposed to flirt with the geek.”

“Why,” Buffy asked coldly, familiar with Harmony’s hateful games.

“Jennifer has a book overdue and doesn’t want to pay the fine. You know how stodgy Mr. Giles is about that kind of thing. His nephew, though,” Harmony said eyeing Spike, “has some potential.”

“He has zero potential. Go away, Harmony.”

“Well I can see your rudeness is still the same,” Harmony huffed, walking back over to Spike.

Spike looked past Harmony to Buffy who was pointing rather insistently at the hours sign on the door. He could take a hint.

“Listen, uh,”

“Harmony,” the blonde supplied.

“Harmony. Listen, Harmony. The library is closed. Maybe you could come back tomorrow?” Spike offered.

Harmony huffed again and spun around, staring daggers at Buffy. “Sure, I’ll leave so you can frat-er-nize with your librarians, Buffy.”

“Did Spike manage to alienate Harmony already?” Xander asked as he entered the library and saw the blonde rushing out. Placing a friendly arm around Spike he said, “You’re well on the road to geek-dom.”

Spike brushed Xander’s arm off and sauntered over to where Buffy was standing. Speaking so only she could hear he asked, “So where would you like to start fraternizing, pet? I’ve been checking out the possibilities and there’s a spot behind the third bookcase that looks promising.”

Buffy smiled at him while she crushed his toes under the heel of her boot. “No fraternizing. No drinking. No Nothing. Not until you explain the Claiming,” she hissed under her breath.

Mind made up, Spike grabbed Buffy’s sleeve and called out, “Giles, the Slayer and I will be back in five minutes.”

Giles didn’t even bother to look up from the books he was studying so intently, just murmuring, “Fine, but don’t be long. We all need to research this together. Oh, and don’t call her that here.”

“Where are we going?” Buffy demanded, doing her best to yank her arm out of Spike’s hold. She was still irritated with him. And worse, she was miserable because her anger was keeping them apart, when what she really wanted was the closeness they had shared when they were in the last hotel room. This was all his fault. He messed up. He made her angry. That made her even madder.

“Here.” Spike pulled her into a dark, empty classroom and shut the door behind them. Throwing her into the desk at the front of the class he said, “I think we could use a little privacy for this conversation.” Then he advanced on her, purposefully.

“Well you thought wrong because we are NOT having a conversation.” Where did he get off with the domineering, order-giving, my-word-is-law attitude? Well he could have a little chat all by his lonesome self if he was going to keep it up. She’d had enough control freak from the principal this morning.

Buffy tried to walk right past him but Spike caught her and pushed her back against the desk again. Grabbing a meter stick by the chalkboard, he quickly turned her and pinned her body face first over the wooden desk. Slapping the meter stick sharply against the desk, next to Buffy’s head he slowly uttered, “Oh, we ARE having this conversation.”

“Sod off,” Buffy told him, stealing one of his phrases.

“That sounded naughty, pet. Picking up some bad habits? Or maybe just reverting to some because you think I’ll let you get away with it now that you’re surrounded by your buds?”

“Like I ever listened to you, Spike.”

“True, but you did learn what the consequences would be when you’re naughty, right?” Spike asked softly, tapping the meter stick against the edge of the desk. He was so angry right now that he wasn’t sure it was just a threat. A few stokes of the ruler might do them both good.

“That happened once. Once. It won’t happen again.”

“Twice, actually… now, it doesn’t have to happen if you’ll just stop being such an obnoxious brat. We had a deal. I bag it and play nice with humans. You let me drink.”

Ok, so he wasn’t really going to spank her, despite how much unspent anger that could burn. She had a legitimate complaint, after all. He hadn’t told her about the Claim earlier. But his demon was aroused since she hadn’t automatically accepted it. And until she did his demon wasn’t going to rest. So, he smacked the ruler down on the desk and bluffed, “Promise to be a good girl and play nice, or else I’ll have to start acting out some of my naughty school-girl fantasies. Doesn’t just have to be the ruler, pet. There are plenty of implements around here to warm your bottom with if you insist on…”

“There are plenty of *wooden* implements for dusting you, too. Question is, who’s going to be holding what they need first?” Buffy said. Elbowing him just like she had the Vamp last night, she got him to lift his weight off her. Grabbing the math text on the desk, Buffy swung around and smacked Spike into the chalkboard. She grabbed his stupid meter stick and broke it in half, holding it like a spear as she advanced on him.

“Not the same this time, is it, Spike? Just what does a chauvinistic pig do when the girl he planned on playing a little slap-and-no-tickle with decides she wants to switch roles?”

Spike switched to Vamp face, suddenly aware of the need for all of his senses and strengths.

He wouldn’t be expecting an aggressive move from her this soon, so Buffy charged Spike, backing him up into a corner and holding the pointed end of the meter stick strategically against his chest.

“Now, Spike, we can have that little chat you went to all this trouble to arrange. Except I’ll be the one asking the questions and you’ll be the one answering them.” Looking triumphantly into his yellow eyes she asked, “What did you mean by I’m Claimed?”

Spike asked her in a deceptively calm voice, “You want to know what it means to be Claimed, Slayer?”

“Of course I do, it’s only what I’ve been asking about since the graveyard!”

Knocking the broken metre stick out of Buffy’s hands, he reversed their positions and trapped her arms against her sides. Speaking the words possessively into her ear, he told her, “It means you belong to me.”

Buffy listened to Spike’s quiet breath as she absorbed his words. Funny how he always seemed to breathe around her, or at least when he was this close to her. He didn’t move to bite or subdue her, despite her attack; in fact he released his tight hold on her arms. It was just the soft comfort of his breath and echo of his words in her head that held her still in the corner. But as tranquil as the moment appeared, neither participant was feeling serene. It was just the calm before the storm.

“I *belong* to you?” Buffy finally repeated, doubtfully. She must have misheard him. Although her voice sounded uncertain, there was a thread of steel to it; a warning for Spike to recant now while it was still an option.

Spike thought of a million ways he could explain, all of them much less blunt and chauvinistic. But he didn’t. He just breathed against the shell of Buffy’s ear, “Mine,” shifting her hair so he could see the little scar causing so much upheaval.

“You think you own me?” Buffy asked him, outraged. “And let me guess, this bite,” she said, pointing wildly at the puncture marks still visible on her skin, “this is what tells all the other Vamps that I belong to you. That I’m yours.”

It sounded suspiciously like a notch on the bedpost. A little ‘I was here.’ And she definitely didn’t like the look that came onto Spike’s face as his gaze was drawn to that scar, dangerous and primed to take on anyone that challenged his Claim. Even her.

Spike shook his demon off. He handled that really well. Buffy pushed away from him, obviously upset. Although she was visibly angry- outrage written all over her face- uncharacteristic nervousness glimmered underneath, in the quick brushes of her sweaty palms over her skirt and the way she stayed well out of his reach. It made him feel guilty. He turned down the possessive attitude. “Pet, it protects you.” Unfortunately the look that appeared on Buffy’s features told him that wasn’t a much better choice of words.

“No. No, Spike,” Buffy shouted, walking across the room. Anger had finally overrun her nervousness. “Listen to me, you neanderthal. I do not belong to you,” she told him, stabbing her finger furiously in his direction to punctuate the words. Irate, she paced the room, using up her pent up energy. “You can’t just take me Spike; Bite me and Claim me. You don’t get to make decisions for me. If I want protection I’ll ask for it. I’ll ask. You don’t take.”

“Oh give up your martyrdom, Saint Buffy,” Spike told her impatiently. “I didn’t take anything from you. You gave it to me. You gave me the right to protect you. The only thing I’ve done is not let you take it back. This isn’t something you can just take back.”

“You blackmailed me!” Buffy reminded him. “You forced me to let you bite,” she insisted, although she knew that wasn’t true of his most recent nips. She conveniently left out the times she bit him.

Spike, frustrated, captured the pacing Slayer from behind, holding her in his embrace as he had in the diner alley. He gripped her just a fraction tighter to evoke her memories of that night. As he held her constrained but protected, he felt the stirrings of her repressed body. She did remember and fear wasn’t the emotion he was arousing. He realized instantly that she needed the comfort of his bite as much as he wanted to give it. She couldn’t hide her instinctive reaction to his proximity to her neck. She was still inexperienced, which pleased him. And he was definitely going to use it to his advantage.

“Last time I drank from you like this, my first time,” he said, sinking his fangs into her skin unexpectedly, but then withdrawing before he imbibed, “that was forced. I didn’t Claim you then.”

Buffy tied to hold back her moan as he sank his fangs into her neck, but when he withdrew the sound slipped from between her lips, breathy, soft and needy. He was overwhelming her senses, standing behind her, powerful, and teasing her with the bite her body wanted so badly. Stay angry, she told herself determinedly. It would be so much easier to ignore the feelings he stirred if she hadn’t gotten so attached to him. Both physically and emotionally.

“Give into it, baby,” Spike murmured. “Don’t hold back. Your body recognises this. It knows what it wants. Just like that last night in the motel,” Spike’s wicked, tempting voice reminded her. Licking the already healing puncture marks from his bite, he whispered, “You asked me in. That’s when I Claimed you.”

“Spike,” Buffy whimpered, warring with her own desires and the anger still thrumming through her body. She felt her anger draining as the need for Spike to drink from her overwhelmed her. The craving came on suddenly and strongly.

“Do you acknowledge my Claim, Slayer?” Spike asked, not giving her what she craved just yet.

“I just felt guilty because you got stuck with cold, bagged blood that night and I got my artery clogging cravings,” Buffy responded, trying to avoid a yes or no.

“Do you acknowledge my Claim?”

“I didn’t know what I was getting into that night. I thought a quick nip and then goodnight.” It wasn’t fair that he had all the control. That he got to tease her. She decided that he needed a taste of what he was making her feel.

Buffy twisted around in Spike’s slackened grip, kissing first his shirt covered shoulder and then the bit of bare skin exposed where his shirt was unbuttoned. She remembered watching him unbutton it unconsciously as soon as Harmony left. He hated that shirt. It made her smile as she continued to kiss her way up Spike’s throat.

That was, until he grabbed her shoulders and tried to push her away.

“That’s cheating, luv,” Spike told her, Un-Vamping. “You haven’t answered my question. Do you acknowledge my Claim? My right to protect you? That you belong to me?” He growled as she continued to arouse him with kisses along his biceps as he held her back. He was losing this battle.

Buffy surprised Spike with a sudden surge of strength, throwing him into the chalkboard, much the same way she had thrown him into the blood delivery truck. Following Spike’s body, she climbed up onto his lean frame, wrapping her legs tightly around his firm hips. She needed it now. She wasn’t holding back anymore.

“Spike,” she desperately whispered between kisses layered over his sexy cheekbones. “I’m not angry anymore. Just kiss me. Touch me,” she ordered, demonstrating by brushing her lips urgently over his and reaching between their bodies to caress his chest.

When he didn’t respond she let slip a keenly frustrated whine and grabbed his shirt, which was impeding her contact with his bare skin, ripping it free to hang on his shoulders. The buttons popped unnoticed by them both onto the floor, scattering in every direction. Running her hands over his chest and shoulders, Buffy pulled Spike closer and roughly bit his earlobe.

Then she confessed, “I. Need. You.” Soothing her bite with the gentle laving of her tongue, she explained her exact need, “Sunk deep inside. Ease the ache. Your fault. You bit me. Now you have to make it better.” She licked his ear once more, making her bite ‘better.’ Leaning back, Buffy tilted her head, exposing the ivory column of her throat to Spike. She waited for him to sink his fangs in her soft neck and then to kiss it better.

Unfortunately Spike wasn’t thinking of his fangs at the moment. Another, more insistent, part of his anatomy rose at Buffy’s request, eager to meet her needs.

Losing most of his control under her seductive touch and words, he put one hand under Buffy’s bottom and urged her even more snugly against him. Three firm thrusts upwards, letting Buffy feel his hardness and telling her succinctly how much he wanted to be ‘sunk deep inside.’

Deciding that standing wasn’t going to be the best position for him to begin with Buffy -she was still fairly inexperienced- he carried her hastily towards the desk, sitting her down on it. “Lie down,” Spike ordered, following her down as she obediently descended. She had her head bent fully back, baring her sweet smelling neck to his view. It was as good a spot to begin as any, he thought, bringing his lips to play over her soft, vulnerable flesh.

Buffy was nearly lost in the whirlwind that Spike was creating, a maelstrom of feelings. She couldn’t help but notice that he was fully aroused, he was grinding against her wet panties, amplifying her own arousal exponentially with the friction and pressure. They were no longer braced against the chalkboard; he had her lying on her back on the sturdy wooden desk, spread out like a feast before him.

And he was feasting: licking, sucking, kissing her neck. But he didn’t bite. Didn’t give her what she asked for. What was he doing, she wondered, a bit apprehensive. “Spike,” Buffy said, pulling his mouth even closer to his previous bite mark. “Bite. Sink your fangs. Don’t tease me. I need you too much,” she pleaded with him.

‘Bite. Don’t tease. Need you too much.’ Buffy’s impetuous words echoed in his head, driving him to speed things up. She couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait. They could just do things slower the second time, or maybe the third.

He was going to make her his Mate. Now.

Phrases like, ‘this is only temporary’ or ‘you can’t make the Slayer your Mate’ had been staked, burned or otherwise eradicated in his head. In other words, he turned his brain and its interfering logic off. He was acting instinctively, and it was that instinct that guided him as he picked out the exact spot he was going to place his Mating bite on Buffy.

Buffy felt her mouth go dry with a little bit of fear and a lot of anticipation, as Spike looked her in the eyes and Vamped. She couldn’t swallow… couldn’t think… and couldn’t wait for him to give her the bite that she needed so much. The need to be bitten by him had haunted her the whole day, but when he had briefly teased her by sinking his fangs into her and then withdrawing, he had started an inferno that only he could put out.

She didn’t bother to ponder how much power that gave him over her.

All she could focus on was bringing her neck closer to him as she pushed up on her elbows. Although, Spike reaching under her skirt, ripping her panties down and off in one quick, sudden move certainly distracted her from that focus.

Reining in a meagre amount of control, Spike left his jeans on for the moment. He had to hear her say she was his. He’d needed her to say the words all day, and he knew that he couldn’t go even one more minute without hearing them. He didn’t bother to ponder how much power that gave her over him.

“Buffy, say you are mine. My mate. Mine to protect. Mine to Mark.” When she didn’t tell him yes right away, he placed one finger on her slippery quim and stroked teasingly light over the sensitized flesh. Not enough pressure to bring any relief though. Then he brought his other hand into play, tweaking her pebbled nipples gently between his thumb and forefinger.

“Mate? Yours?” Buffy mumbled back, almost incoherently. It was rapidly becoming clear to her what Spike was planning to do to her. Do with her. And that word Mate had all sorts of implications. He said it with emphasis, just like when he said Claimed. Somehow she didn’t think he meant the word literally. Like looking at the tip of an ice burg, it was what you didn’t see that really counted.

Her thoughts jumbled when Spike stopped his teasing touch and inserted one unmistakably male finger into her tight passage. Then two, using his thumb to rub over her swollen nubbin of flesh. “Sp… Spike… Yesssss,” Buffy managed to squeak out, arousal rising quickly. Lifting her hips to push the fingers deeper. Just a few more seconds. She stomped down the inner voice screaming, ‘what the hell are you agreeing to?’ She knew… kind of. Oh, who was she kidding? Right now she just didn’t give a damn. Consequences were for later, when Spike didn’t have his magical fingers playing pleasurably over her body.

Yes. That was the word he was waiting for. Finally. He was getting worried that she would never let that all-important word pass through her lips. He stopped rubbing her with his thumb immediately. She was quivering on the verge of orgasm and he wanted her to wait until he bit. It might distract her from the pain a little, although he wasn’t ignorant enough to think she wouldn’t notice the pain at all. Undoing his pants one handed and shoving them down the necessary amount, he placed a third finger into Buffy’s tight channel, preparing her body.

He stopped. He. Stopped. He wasn’t allowed to stop. He couldn’t, not now. She was so fucking close. Then another cool finger was inserted, which soothed her a bit, stretched her even further. In and out, noisily urging her hips to move in rhythm with his hand. Then he replaced his hand with his cock, the head of it brushing against her slippery folds, playing with the entrance to her body. She drew in a deep breath. This was real, not a dream.

Spike paused and looked into Buffy’s eyes, giving her a brief moment to bring all of this to a halt. Moment passed. He descended in a blink of an eye to Buffy’s neck, to the spot he had picked out earlier. Using one hand he gripped her hair in his fist and pulled her head back even further, preventing her from hiding her neck from him. The other hand gripped her hip tightly, imprisoning her underneath him. Then he thrust fully into her body, both cock and fangs. It wasn’t gentle, but he knew she was so close to coming that it didn’t really matter.

Buffy’s body accommodated him. Welcomed him. And it finally allowed her to reach the peak that had been just out of her reach. She lost control as her body contracted with pleasure. The bliss of her orgasm overrode all of her other senses, but as it subsided she started to feel a burning sensation in her neck where Spike was still biting. He was still drinking. The burning intensified and Spike gripped her even more tightly, pulling hard on her hair to hold her still when she tried to jerk away. She was trapped.

Spike struggled to hold Buffy still as he finished giving her a Mating bite, the burning from his injection of his own blood directly into her blood vessel causing her to panic. Just a couple seconds more. She probably thought he was still drinking, maybe taking too much. But he couldn’t stop to explain. He kept his own hips still, not thrusting despite the temptation to do so. She was already upset enough, no need to confuse her by doing too many things at once. But she was so very tempting; so hot, so wet, so wonderfully tight.

Buffy stomped down her fear. Spike wasn’t doing what her brain was screaming. He wasn’t draining her. He wasn’t draining her. Nonetheless, she was greatly relieved when he lifted his Un-Vamped face up and looked at her. The burning remained but it was lessening quickly. Then he mouthed sorry and kissed the tears that sat unshed on her eyelashes away.

And he moved his hips. Oh God. Suddenly she wasn’t so worried about the burning anymore. She just wanted him to keep doing that. It was so good. He was stretching her completely, a pleasure-pain feeling like when she had played with ice in a baggie once. You would think the sensation would be unpleasant; it was anything but when done properly.

Spike thrust carefully back into Buffy’s snug passage, angling downwards so his cock slid against her aroused nubbin of flesh as he impaled her. The suck and slide as he pleasured her made him want to go harder and faster but he denied himself. She already had to deal with the Mating bite; she didn’t need him rushing towards the finish like an inexperienced schoolboy too. She was propelling her hips upwards, meeting each of his slow, deep thrusts. He rewarded her by contracting his muscles to make his dick shift slightly when he was fully inside her, increasing the sensations. But when she squeezed her own velvety inner muscles, clenching him greedily deep inside her, Spike lost control.

Buffy grabbed onto the edges of the desk, bracing herself for Spike’s increasingly hard and frenzied thrusts. Extending her arms out to grab the desk forced her breast up towards Spike, drawing his immediate attention. She moaned as he leaned down and laved her neglected nipples thru her shirt and bra. The change in position made him slow down his thrusting long enough for Buffy to catch up. Then it was she who was grinding upwards impatiently, trying to reach the next peak.

Spike felt Buffy shifting under him, trying to get to her second release. He kissed his way from her breasts up to her mouth. Pausing just above her mouth he whispered, “Hang on, luv,” and then plunged into her body with a new intensity. He captured Buffy’s lips with a silencing kiss that muffled her whimpers of pleasure and her scream as the second orgasm finally rippled thru her. The pulsing of her muscles started his own orgasm. Grabbing onto Buffy’s sweat slicked curves possessively he thrust five more times, spurting his seed deep into her womb.

At Spike’s final thrust Buffy screamed out his name again. The burning pain had returned, 10 times more intense than before. Spike quickly covered her mouth with his hand, but the scream had already echoed down the halls. Bollocks. No doubt the Watcher had heard that.

Buffy brought her fingers up to feel the biting mark Spike had placed on her. Already the pain was subsiding, again. This time she hoped it was for good. There was a weird area of raised skin close to the bite. “What did you do?” Buffy shrieked, anxiously trying to think of how she was going to hide what felt like a hickey the size of Texas from her mom.

Spike bent down and licked her fingers and then the wound, soothing her. Gentle, lathing licks that washed away the last stings from his bite. As he licked her neck, he brushed his fingers over her thighs, sweeping them up towards her wet quim.

Buffy gasped as Spike’s fingers and mouth played wickedly over her body, arousing her once again. She felt intense pleasure as he licked and sucked the tiny wound on her neck. His fingers trailed along her sensitive inner thighs, the slightly calloused tips in such contrast to her silky skin. The contrast served as a reminder that it was Spike touching her there, not her own soft fingers in the middle of the night.

Spike groaned as Buffy responded so quickly to his touch. Just the lightest brush of his fingers near her quim had her arching upwards for more. He stroked her clit to wet his fingers then plunged two of them into her welcoming quim. With his thumb providing stimulation to her hard nubbin, he stroked in and out, sucking on his bite mark in rhythm.

Buffy shattered within moments, still highly sensitive from earlier. She pulsed around the fingers stretching her, pulling them further inside. She clenched her thighs shut as her orgasm shuddered through her body. She made Spike a trapped, though willing, witness to her release.

Spike didn't remain a passive witness. He watched his Slayer, her features so beautiful as she came around him, her neck smelling so sweet. He brought his mouth back to the mark he placed on her neck. Buffy's breath hitched as she started to come down from her orgasm. Sucking hard this time, he made Buffy peak again, giving her her first double orgasm. She could do no more then whimper, the intense pleasure taking away her ability to think, let alone speak actual words.

Buffy collapsed bonelessly over the desk. That was… She pressed her fingers against Spike’s bite mark again but this time with amazement, not anger.

Spike didn’t know about Buffy but he needed a second to recover before he talked. He knew she’d want an explanation about the mark before they left, and given the noise Buffy had made in the last 5 minutes they were going to have to leave soon.

“It’s a Mating mark,” he finally explained. Doing up his pants and pulling her skirt down, he debated whether to tell her that it marked her his. Permanently his. No, that was the kind of thinking and language that had gotten her all riled up to begin with. Instead he said, “When I bit you, I injected some of my own blood into you. Made you my Mate.” Trying to lighten her mood he commented, “And when I came into you, you got this nifty mark as a souvenir. It’s shaped like a nice little crescent. Quite fetching really.”

The presence of footsteps in the hallway made Buffy bite back her comment on how enthused she was to have a mark the shape of a popular snack as well as a celestial body on her neck. Never mind the thought of Spike’s blood running in her veins. She shoved Spike backwards and jumped off of the desk. Pointing towards the windows, Buffy headed towards their best escape option. Thankfully the sun had already set, or else they would be stuck. Or at least Spike would have been. She wasn’t sticking around to hear the lecture of her life from Giles.

Oh God, Giles. He had been waiting for them to return. Worse, what was he going to say when he found out what she and Spike had done? And her mom. Groaning out loud as she yanked the stiff window open she muttered, “Mom was right, bad boys will only get me into trouble.”

Impetuous

Chapter 22: Secrets: When everyone knows something you think they don’t

Sweet Pea,
… I could tell your gram was right upset with me that night. She made me a hot chocolate with that no-name cocoa she keeps at the back of the cupboard. You know that one where they misspell hot chocolate as “not chocolate” on the can. Or maybe that wasn’t a mistake?

“So let me get this straight. You and Spike saw a Vampire in the school. You chased this Vampire, by yourselves, out of the school and all the way to the graveyard. And when Spike caught the Vampire… it ripped off his shirt?” Joyce looked disbelievingly at first Buffy and then Spike.

“Guess it was offended by Spike’s lack of fashion sense,” Buffy responded, trying to distract her mom. “You know how clothing takes a beating on patrols.” She elbowed Spike sharply when he looked like he was going speak up. She noticed him avidly watching her mom pick out all of the tiny marshmallows in the hot chocolate she was preparing for him. That was her mom, subtle signals. After Angel, she wasn’t going to let another Vamp get her daughter in trouble again.

“Giles was worried about you two. He said you just disappeared after promising to be back in the library within five minutes. Where did you want to go, anyway?”

“Buffy was showing me where the wooden weapons were kept. There are lots of everyday items you would never expect could be turned into stakes, mum.”

“Oh, I know. It’s surprising what necessity can inspire. Why, I could even use this chopstick as a stake if provoked, I mean, if it was necessary,” Joyce replied. She turned to give Spike an icy look as she put down the chopstick she’d taken from the silverware drawer.

Ok, that wasn’t even the least bit subtle, Buffy thought. She quickly piped in, “Actually chopsticks aren’t as reliable as one would hope. Too fragile. Although you couldn’t fault anyone for trying them… once.”

Spike squirmed a little in his seat. He looked out of the kitchen window into the darkness beyond and wondered if he should start planning possible escape routes.

“And this classroom is where you found the Vampire? Do you think it tracked you there, Buffy? Did Drusilla send it after you?” Joyce asked, fear of possible danger to her daughter beginning to override her disbelief in their story.

Buffy swallowed her guilt at manipulating her mom. “It might have been.” She transferred the marshmallows her mom had put in her hot chocolate to Spike’s. She hated marshmallows in her hot chocolate. Of course, her mom knew that.

“Joyce? Buffy?” Giles hollered from the hallway as he burst into the Summers’ house.

“We’re in here, Rupert,” Joyce responded, getting up to boil some more water for tea.

“Oh, don’t bother with that, Joyce,” Giles said, grabbing her hands before she could reach the kettle. Giving her fingers a quick squeeze he told her, “I’m just glad that you phoned to tell me these two truants were safe and sound. After I heard Buffy scream and I couldn’t find her…”

Giles patiently listened as Buffy explained her madcap tale once again. This time she could actually see her mom frowning as she reached the part about Spike’s shirt. Why, oh why, did she rip it off? Without the conservative shirt hiding his toned chest and abs he looked all smutty-romance-novel-guy. It did not help her story of woe at all.

Joyce smothered a yawn.

Catching Joyce’s yawn, Giles suggested, “Buffy? Joyce? Why don’t you two go on upstairs? You both look exhausted.”

Buffy jumped onto the excuse to postpone her interrogation. Grabbing onto Spike’s arm she pulled him up and put their cups in the sink. Halfway to the stairs Giles called them to a halt.

“Actually, Spike, would you be able to come outside and help me change the flat I incurred on the way over here?” Giles asked, polishing his glasses.

“No problem,” Spike said, nonchalantly. He whispered to Buffy, “We’ll talk later.” During their frenzied escape from the school he’d listened while Buffy babbled on about the trouble they were in. The story she created was a spur-of-the-moment explanation inspired by necessity when Joyce caught them walking in through the back door. Hopefully they could flesh out that flimsy story better tonight he thought, heading outside with Giles.

Joyce followed Buffy upstairs, offering to run a bath for her tired daughter before turning in herself. Buffy just sat on the closed toilet and watched as her mom created a vanilla scented sudsfest for her to soak in.

Looking up at her daughter, Joyce wryly commented, “This has to be the earliest you have gone to bed in since you had the flu. That must have been some Vampire you two fought to tire you out like that.” Wisely pouring some Epson salts into the bath she asked, “Are you hurt, baby?”

Buffy automatically responded to the concern in her mother’s voice. “I’ve been reminded of muscles I forgot I had, but nothing major was injured. Just exhausted, mostly. I need some intermission time before the next fight.” She fingered the silk scarf tied around her neck that she’d insisted Spike buy for her on their way home. You would think that after all this time she would have gotten better at lying to her mom but if anything, she’d gotten worse.

“Well, maybe you ought to take more that just an intermission, honey. You should sit out a few games. It wasn’t that long ago that you had to go thru some terrible things no young girl should have to deal with. Just jumping right back into things might be like leaping back into the fire.”

Uh, oh… here were the mixed metaphors… that was never a good sign. “Mom, I’m the Slayer. I don’t get vacations. It’s kind of a 24-7 job with no dental and questionable safety. But I can handle this.” It was Spike she wasn’t confident she could handle. He was more likely to try and handle her.

Joyce turned the taps off. The sudden silence in the room raised goose bumps on Buffy’s arms. She started to re-run her mom’s conversation thru her head.

Getting up and standing before her daughter, Joyce told her, “A mother’s instinct is to protect her child. She sees her child hurt once and wants to do whatever is necessary to stop that pain from coming back again.” Brushing the hair out of Buffy’s face she continued, “So as a mother I want to tell you don’t charge ahead alone and rush your fences; you’ll just end up knocking them all down. You can get back into the game, eventually, but take it slow, ok? Let me and Giles help you find your bearings first. Make a game plan.”

“Mom, I’m not impulsive. I always plan ahead. I’m preparedness girl; ready for anything.”

Her mom smiled thoughtfully. “Buffy, please remember that although you are the Slayer you are also a teenage girl. There’s nothing wrong with that. And anyone who would forget that, who would try and force you into a situation you aren’t ready for, well that person would have to deal with me. I’m not going to let anyone take you apart like Angel did.”

Ok, mom had dropped the metaphors and subtlety and had headed straight to transparent threats against Spike. But she couldn’t fault her for it. In fact, her mom’s role of a lioness protecting her cub made Buffy feel even closer to her. And she didn’t doubt that her mom would come out swinging, like she had that night when she took an axe to Spike’s head at the parent-teacher meeting. She pulled her mom down for a hug and told her, “No one will ever do to me what he did. I learned hard, painful lessons and won’t fall into that trap again. I promise.” She deliberately avoided playing with the neck scarf.

Her mom kissed her cheek and left, closing the door tightly behind her. Buffy gave a sigh of relief, quickly stripped and buried herself in heaps of scented bubbles and steaming water. She had reason to be thankful for the mounds of bubbles when her mom entered again after a quick knock, eyed her foam-covered neck and picked up her clothes to be washed. Maybe she wouldn’t notice Buffy’s lack of underwear, either. She locked the door this time before leaving. Ha. Subtle, that was her mom. How she’d never figured out that Buffy was the Slayer was baffling. Even Giles could take lessons from her mom.

Meanwhile, outside the Summers’ home…

Spike walked over to the Watcher’s car, looking for the tilted side where the flat would be. The car was totally level. Feeling a bit uneasy, he walked around the car, looking carefully over the 4 perfectly inflated tires. In fact, the tires looked practically brand new. He didn’t need his Vamp senses to smell something fishy about this scenario.

“Looks like the flat-tire fairy came along and fixed you up good an’ proper while you were in the house, mate.” Spike mocked.

“I never had a flat, Spike.”

“Well then, I’ll be heading back inside. Kind of frosty out here, what with my Nancy-boy shirt having gone all Harlequin,” Spike said, trying to make a quick retreat. The Watcher suddenly didn’t look as Nancy-boy as he usually did. Of course, the stake he had gripped tightly in his hand had something to do with that.

“Is she Claimed?” Giles asked dangerously soft.

Claimed? Yes. Worse? Yes. Mated for life? Definitely. And he wasn’t about to consider divorce. Not in his vocabulary. But, probably not something to discuss with the man holding a stake. Was that a mini crossbow he saw tucked under the Watcher’s coat?

“Why?” Giles continued, taking Spike’s silence for the admission it was. He continued to slowly advance on the wary Vamp.

“Hey now, I never said I Claimed her,” Spike weakly defended himself. He hated retreating from the Watcher but Buffy had wrung a promise from him. Absolute silence. And frankly, even with the Watcher’s new dangerous aura, he still feared the Slayer more. She had boots with 4-inch heels. Those kinds of things were never intended for walking. They were made for only one malicious purpose.

The Watcher pulled his other hand out of his pocket, thankfully not with another stake, and held his closed fist out to Spike.

What kind of weapon was the Watcher planning on dropping into his hands? Spike wondered as he casually held open his palm. Was it some sort of magic powder or herb? He had heard that the Watcher, once known as Ripper… had more than dabbled in Magicks.

Giles slowly dropped a handful of buttons into Spike’s outstretched palm. He placed the stake he held in his other hand on the hood of his car, beside Spike’s hip.

Spike watched, realizing he was screwed, as the buttons tumbled into his palm. His peripheral vision picked up the broken piece of ruler on the hood of the car that Giles was using as a stake. Bollocks. This didn’t look good for him. He might as well take his shirt the rest of the way off, and bare his chest fully for the Watcher to stake. Would give him about the same chance of surviving this encounter. It never occurred to him to kill Giles, or to refuse blame and punishment. He was so far gone from the Vamp he’d been just a couple of weeks ago that he didn’t even reflect on this abnormality.

It wasn’t something that Giles missed. He had the crossbow ready to fire, primed and on a hair trigger. After his Slayer’s absence for so long, he had re-trained himself for battle and felt confident he could defend himself from Spike’s outlash. Only, Spike didn’t attack. He didn’t defend himself after that first outlandish attempt. He just looked Giles right in the eye and told him, “She’s my Mate.”

The menace dropped from Giles voice as shock and surprise took over. “Mate?” he shouted. “What the… well this is just bloody brilliant.” Giles muttered, overset. What did Spike have to gain by making Buffy his Mate? It didn’t make sense. He’d suspected that Spike had seduced, or even more likely, given his evil, soulless state, forced her to… - but Mate? It was supposed to have maybe been an accidental Claim; something Spike’s demon had done instinctively. Some Vamps were just like dogs that pissed on every slightly vertical object within their territory, Claiming like crazy. But Mating, from what he understood, is an irreversible act. And it came at a cost.

“How long,” Giles finally uttered.

Spike broke eye contact with Giles. Figured. He thought the difficult part was over when he told the Watcher he’d made the Slayer his Mate. Now he wanted details. And somehow Spike reckoned that the Watcher wasn’t referring to how long the actual act took. Pretending to cough, which actually was hard since Vamps don’t even breathe normally, he muttered as incoherently as possible, “3 hours.”

Giles, unluckily in Spike’s view, was fluent in gibberish. “Today?” he bellowed, starting to turn back into Ripper-Watcher again. “You… today?” Apparently Giles didn’t only understand gibberish, he spoke it too.

“I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”

“Just happened?” Giles took his glasses off and started polishing them vigorously. Spike tried to move a few steps away from the agitated Watcher. Giles had picked up his makeshift stake again when Spike had imparted the info on just how long Buffy had been his Mate and now he was swinging it wildly around as he held it in the same hand polishing his glasses. Didn’t seem like the Watcher remembered that he had a deadly wooden implement in his hand. And that kind of inattentiveness could end up as a dusty disaster. An accident, of course…

“Well, I didn’t plan for it to happen. Of course, I knew what I was doing when I… um, but I hadn’t intended to do it. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“No one would ever accuse you of thinking, Spike.”

Now was not time to take offence. Besides, the Watcher wasn’t far off in this instant. What was between him and Buffy was highly instinctual.

“She said yes,” Spike quietly added, trying to defuse the Ripper bomb.

“As in, yes, I would like to be tied forever to an evil, soulless Vamp, which has tried to kill me numerous times?”

Ignoring Giles particularly demeaning tone, Spike said, “The word forever was mentioned… I think.” At the Watcher’s continued glare Spike mumbled, “Well, I thought it, at least.”

Giving up on this un-informative conversation, Giles replaced his highly polished glasses to their perch on his nose and asked casually, “What colour do you prefer, beige or white?”

Deciding to humour the obviously overwhelmed and temporarily daft Watcher, Spike responded, “Actually, my favourite colour is black.”

Giles opened his car door and dryly related, “I don’t think that Joyce will agree on that colour for the wedding stationary.” He lightly threw the ruler stake at Spike, underhanded, smirking when it just bounced off the shocked Vamp and fell to the ground.

“What wedding?” Spike choked, taking his turn at responding in Jeopardy mode. “Vamps aren’t all that good with churches, crosses, and little old priests. Things tend to get either flame-y or dusty, messes up the bride’s dress something awful.”

“Don’t tell me, tell Joyce. After we’ve had an informative conversation tomorrow over lunch…” Giles responded, happy to see the tables turned on Spike. About time the Vamp was bewildered himself for a bit.

“Ha, ha, Watcher. Laugh yourself into a painful cramp. Just keep in mind I won’t be the only one facing the wrath of the Summers’ women. What do you think Buffy will say when she finds out you had your proper, shiny looking shoes under her mum’s bed until our arrival? In fact, I think tea’s not the only thing you and Joyce enjoy at lunch.”

The Watcher’s jaw dropped gratifyingly as he gaped at Spike, looking like a fish gulping air. “How… Who told…”

“Vampire, remember? Could smell you two all over each other. Besides, you don’t buy friends specially imported English tea just to serve it to them whenever they drop by. Or keep a mug saying librarians like to do it…”

“I get your point, Spike. Is this blackmail?”

“Who came up with the plan to interrogate Buffy and I like this today?” Spike asked.

“Joyce.”

“Don’t underestimate the Summers’ women. I don’t have to tattle, Buffy will figure it out all on her own.” Walking back towards the house Spike called out over his shoulder, “What colour do you prefer, Watcher, beige or white?” He laughed bitterly as Giles muttered something that sounded awfully like sod off. Bloke knew a few good English curses after all.

Giles drove off as Spike walked slowly up the Summer’s porch. He thought about the complicated mess he was in now. Placing his hand in his too-tight, prissy-pants’ pocket, he caressed the bag of herbs wedged there, the Granciana powder. Dru’s captive witch had given it to him. Stupid girl, with her ‘go to the Slayer and protect her’ and ‘through her you can undo this curse, take away Drusilla’s power.’ Fat chance.

All the Slayer got him was hot chocolate without marshmallows.

Sires told their Childler that Slayers would just get them into trouble. When he got his hands on that witch he was going to suck the Wicca right out of her. Last time she would mess up a bloke’s Unlife with her flawed advice. Whispering a threat he hoped made the magical busybody’s ears burn off and ring incessantly, he said, “Tara, just you wait ’til the Watcher and mum find out it was all your idea.”

Chapter 22: What moron decided to call it a *slumber* party?

Dearest Niece,

Your uncle and I would love to hold a slumber party for your birthday. Of course, your mom has to approve. And I’m not sure she’ll let your Uncle Spike hold a party for you unless she’s here too. She’s aware that your uncle doesn’t believe in doing much sleeping during such events… and the the way he defines ‘pillow talk’ worries her too!

Spike crept up the darkened stairs. He had waited outside for an hour, smoking as he killed time until Joyce went to bed. Maybe she thought he was just a dusty memory by now. She certainly had set him up. But moments later he regretted his thoughts. Joyce had done what she needed to in order to protect her daughter… she wasn’t vindictive or cruel. The crossbow had most likely been Giles idea. He peered into the office-bedroom and saw that his cot had been newly made. The sheets smelled like lavender and Joyce. Reassured, Spike silently opened Buffy’s door, quickly picking up the outline of Buffy bundled under her bedclothes.

“Spike,” Buffy whispered almost inaudibly from under the covers. She motioned furiously for him to join her there.

Naturally Spike didn’t hesitate to join Buffy in her comfy bed. He paused, intending to shuck his jeans and his designated-for-the-rag-bin shirt but Buffy just yanked him onto the bed. Snuggling beside her, fully clothed, he bent over to nuzzle her soft shoulder while he thought of which explanation he practiced outside would suffice.

“Stop that,” Buffy ordered. “We have to talk.”

“I know that, luv. It’s why I came in here… but we don’t have to turn it all girly slumber party, complete with hiding under the covers and whispering secrets. Unless… you want to pretend it’s a co-ed party and we’re doing more than just talking?”

“There is no party,” Buffy said. “Mom suspects something. She’s probably going to start purchasing sub-grade blood products for you from the butcher in the morning. Not to mention the lifetime grounding I’m going to get when she finds out that I…”

“You should enjoy your limited time as a free woman. That grounding may be more imminent than you think. Giles knows everything.”

“Everything?” Buffy shrieked, forgetting to keep her voice at a whisper.

“He knows we’re Mates… not in the chummy friends way either. Threatened to tell it all to your mom.”

“What didn’t you get about ‘absolute silence’? You promised to say nothing. What, did Giles threaten to make you read his 12 editions of Ursrukla if you didn’t squeal?” She had read them herself. Twice.

“He had a crossbow,” Spike told her defensively, sneaking a hand under her silk pyjama tank. What would it take to convince her to sleep sans clothes?

“If your gonna lie, at least try to be convincing. Giles would never…”

Spike cupped her soft, round breast. It was high and just a little bouncy, kind of like that goldilocks hair she had. “Well he did. I was kind of insulted that he only carried one. He even put the stake down, on the car, like I wasn’t capable of…”

“Yes, yes. So if you weren’t worried about being staked then why go all confess-y? Are you deliberately trying to mess up my entire life?” She shifted her breast away from his hand. His cool hand on her warm breast was causing her nipples to harden. It was distracting her.

“Actually if you want someone to blame, you should…”

“I’m blaming you, Spike,” Buffy interrupted.

“Well, fine then. It seems Giles was tipped of by a couple of items, one of which I remember was thrown recklessly around the room and left lying around.” Spike grabbed a couple buttons and the piece of ruler-stake that he had taken as evidence for the defence from his pocket.

“I didn’t mean to,” Buffy said, looking at the items dejectedly.

“Those were my exact words.” Spike decided to see if Buffy would be more receptive to some caresses further south. He slipped his hand under the loose waistline of her pants. Hmm, no underwear… that made things more interesting.

This time Buffy didn’t try to remove Spike’s hand. In fact, she shifted the tiniest bit closer to him. Sliding her own hand under his mangled shirt, she trailed her fingers along the hard planes of his chest.

“Did Giles say how long my un-grounded life was going to last?”

“Until afternoon tea tomorrow. He and your mum are having lunch, as usual.” That wasn’t tattling… just subtle hinting.

“Afternoon tea? My mom and Giles have afternoon tea… at lunch?” That was strange. Mom never left the gallery to go out for lunch… Shrugging, Buffy inched just a fraction closer to Spike.

Spike brushed his fingers through Buffy’s hidden curls as he began strategizing how he could get her to permit a bit more intense play. “Kitten, I know something else we could do with your silk pants,” he told her, caressing her smooth pyjama clad bottom with his other hand.

“Spike, be serious,” Buffy whined. Still, she didn’t shift away from Spike’s magical fingers.

“I am serious, pet. Haven’t you ever played with them before? Silk and your sweet…”

“No. No playing. This is the kind of stuff that got us into trouble in the first place.”

“But wasn’t it worth it, luv? This afternoon was mere foreplay. Things were a bit rushed. Come on, kitten. I have all night to satisfy you. Now that we’re Mated,” Spike added, brushing her hair aside to see the Mark he had placed on her, “there won’t be any more pain, just pleasure.”

Buffy nearly brought her hand up and slapped herself for even contemplating it. Instead, she just removed said hand from Spike’s chest. She couldn’t very well get angry at him when she was shamelessly brushing her fingers over the tempting ripples of his abs. Besides, he had mentioned the Mating, and that was what she really wanted to talk about.

But… she let him continue to play with her shower-soft curls, spreading her legs very slightly, so he could just brush his fingers over the tip of her sensitive… oh, that was nice. She didn’t even mind that he had insinuated one finger snugly… ohhh, that was very, um, nice. Right then her much neglected, and often ignored, brain piped up, saying to her ‘way to get him to explain the whole Mating thing to you.’ Talking. That was what they were supposed to be doing.

“Mmm… Mate,” Buffy managed to mumble.

“That’s right, kitten, I’m your Mate. Why don’t you slip those pants off and spread your legs a bit more. I’ll show you how much fun silk can be,” Spike promised. Using one hand to help her out, he leaned over and kissed her sweet lips. Take it nice and slow, he reminded himself, when Buffy fought him on removing her pants. Maybe she was still shy around him. Women have an amazing sense of modesty that allows them to run around you naked one day and has them blushing over a bared ankle the next. It was actually kind of sexy; a sweet, ingenuous and utterly feminine idiosyncrasy.

Pants have to stay on. Pants have to stay on. Buffy wiggled away a little from Spike’s persuasive caresses and clamped her thighs shut. Maybe after, as a reward, she could spend some time with Spike learning about the alternate uses of silk pyjama bottoms. An image of her wrists tied to the bed with silk bonds flashed through her thoughts. It was corny but… bad thoughts… concentrate.

Getting back some focus, Buffy clarified, “No Spike, I mean, I want to talk about being your Mate. What it means?” She pointed to the tattoo-like stain that had formed when the raised crescent mark had disappeared. “Does this ever wash off?” It was some intricate design that baffled her.

Spike pulled Buffy close to his body again, and looked carefully at the final Mating mark. So it was official. Not that he had really doubted it. “It’s permanent, pet, just like our Mating.” He trailed his hand lazily along Buffy’s thigh, from her hip to just behind her knee, and then firmly pulled her leg to lie between his own strong thighs. She’d been too far away from him.

“Permanent?” Buffy said, apprehensive. “That sounds suspiciously like forever. Are you sure? They have some really great lasers now. You can’t even see where the Mark of Eygon used to be!” Oh God, she inwardly groaned… mom’s going to ground me in my next life too. She freaked over the idea of me getting a henna tattoo.

“Thought you wanted to be serious.” He leaned over and nibbled gently on Buffy’s earlobe while he had her distracted and on the defensive.

“I do. Sorry, it’s just… this isn’t something that happens to me everyday. Seems people my age are too busy going to cheerleading practice or the Bronze, then to go out and get themselves Mated… for life.” She ignored Spike’s possessive growl when she said the word Mated. However, the sharp nip he delivered as she hesitated to say ‘for life’ made her gasp sharply in acknowledgement. He wasn’t going to be ignored.

“Do you regret it?” Spike whispered, soothing the bite with his cool tongue.

“No,” Buffy told him, first faintly, but then more loudly and firmly. It felt right to be tied to Spike in this way. She didn’t pretend to understand much about it. Ok, any of it. But it seemed almost as much a part of her destiny as being a Slayer was. She wouldn’t be able to explain it to anyone, but during their short time together, Buffy had reached a point where she couldn’t imagine her life without Spike in it. Of course she couldn’t have lasted much longer without Spike inside her too, but that was a different issue. Destiny seemed kind of above crazy-lust motives.

“Well, you might have regrets when I tell you everything you got along with that accessory.” Spike warned her, brushing his fingers absentmindedly over her Mark.

Ok, gulp. That sounded ominous.

“First,” Spike said, cupping the back of her head with one hand and bringing her lips to his for a quick, deep kiss, “you are going to have to put up with lots of this. Kisses, touches,” he plunged his tongue into her mouth again, “and me, deep inside you, stretching you, filling you, and making you come so often that you will quiver just when you hear my voice.”

“I think I could live with that,” Buffy told him, pushing onto his chest and rolling on top, so she could kiss him like she wanted. And yes, she quivered.

Breaking off their kiss, Spike said, “Second, I don’t know a bloody thing about what Mating is like between a human and a Vampire. Never been done that I recall. But I don’t care. I’m not letting you go. You’re mine.”

Instead of berating him for acting possessively, Buffy returned his claim. “You’re mine.”

“I mean it Buffy; not your watcher, nor your mum, nor your chums are going to take you away from me.”

“Spike… we can’t just… my mom, well she’s my mom and I’m still too young to…”

“I’m going to explain it to her tomorrow. All of them… the watcher, Red and the nancy boy too.” He resumed caressing Buffy’s silky skin, first in a soothing motion along her arms, and then in a teasing manner over her belly button, peaking out between her shirt and pants.

“Explain? Explain what… how you spread me over Mrs. Lowndes desk and…?” She completed the rest of that yummy thought in her head.

Smirking Spike said, “Don’t think they could handle it luv.” Holding onto Buffy with one hand he pulled himself up to a sitting position with the other. Reaching into his pocket, Spike pulled out the powder. “Remember this?” he asked her.

Buffy nodded her head, wondering what the powder had to do with their Mating.

“Well now, the witch that Dru’s got under her power, she’s the one what gave it to me. She’s not a big bad, pet. Her majick is white. Only Dru never figured it out. Course, now that the witch is under Dru’s thrall it doesn’t matter what colour her majicks are. Dru makes her cast some powerful, dark and dangerous stuff. But Dru isn’t the only one with the ability to get into someone’s brain, I can have a peek every now and then.”

“The witch is good… And you have the… thrall… too?” Buffy muttered. “When exactly were you going to share all of this?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. She reached out to trace one of Spike’s shoulders, trailing her fingers down to measure the spread of his bicep. It overfilled her palm nicely.

“Anyways, if the interruptions are over?” Spike said, waiting for her to nod her assent. He flexed his biceps for Buffy to shape her fingers over and continued, “I don’t have the thrall. Well not really. I tried it a couple of times, Dru is my sire, after all, but all I can do is get a glimpse of a person’s thoughts. I can’t control people like Dru can. And with the witch, she actually came to me. I had dreams about her. She spoke in the dreams… told me where to get the powder… and gave me some new dreams too, I suspect.” Spike lifted Buffy up and onto his lap.

“New dreams?” Buffy managed to get out. Spike had her legs spread wide, feet resting on the pillows behind him, and her thinly covered mound pressed against his full arousal. Then he lifted her hips up and down, rubbing her against him, alternating between light pressure that let her soft, silky pants slide teasingly over her clit, and then rougher pressure that keyed up her arousal even further as the outline of his cock pressed the silk pants firmly against her, massaging her intimately. He didn’t even need her to take her pants off to show her a, um, nice way to play with them.

“Dreams about you. Started just a few weeks ago. And they weren’t PG-13 either. Course none of my dreams are PG-13.” It seemed like Buffy was figuring out the benefits of silk pants fast. Now she was even taking over the pace, experimentally shifting her hips to increase the pleasurable friction as she rode over him. Oh, God… she was a very quick learner.

Buffy finally registered Spike’s last comment and blurted out, “I had dreams too. Of you, that is. Started… the… same, uh… time…” Mmm, the soft silk slid so nicely over her clit as she rubbed against Spike. And now that arousal had soaked her pants, it had changed the texture of the silk, her secretions making it even more slippery.

“Well then, I guess you could say that Tara has been playing matchmaker.” Spike resisted the urge to thrust up against Buffy’s grinding hips. This was the important part of the story he was approaching. Afterwards he could concentrate fully on what he wanted to do with Buffy and her silk bottoms.

“Tara?” Who the hell is Tara? Buffy stopped moving her hips.

“It’s the witch’s name. Anyway, in one of my dreams she said that together, you and I could break the curse. Said it was our fate to come together, although I don’t know exactly which context of the word she was referring to. At the time I told her she could shove all her fate and destiny crap, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe your Watcher can figure it all out, flip through his dusty tombs. A Vampire and Slayer, Mated? There’s bound to be something mentioned about that.” He tried to encourage Buffy to continue her movements, since the explanation was over as far as he was concerned. She complied almost unthinkingly.

Buffy and Spike paused both their mutual caresses and conversation when they heard the hallway floorboards creek. As soon as the bathroom light flickered on, moments later, Buffy took immediate action. She yanked Spike out of her bed and pushed him over to the window. Quietly easing the glass pane up, she motioned for Spike to exit quickly, shoving him when he didn’t move fast enough. Unfortunately he slipped and fell to the ground. From the second story. Well, served him right. After all, she had ended up face first in the grass when he’d let that Vamp take her from behind in the graveyard. Her belief in karma restored, Buffy shut the window and crawled back into her comfy, warm bed.

That was when she realized that Spike hadn’t finished showing her how to play with silk pants. And somehow she didn’t think grass-stained, dirt encrusted Spike, when he returned back upstairs, was going to do so. Maybe this was what mom had meant by rushing her fences and knocking them down. If she hadn’t acted so rashly she would have thought of stuffing him in the closet… where she still had a bag full of wooden weapons, crosses and holy water. That would have put Spike into a more amorous mood. Not. Maybe they should try this in the office next time. Sure, with it’s non-existent soundproofing.

Geez, no one ever tells you how difficult it can be to get in a little *play* time. How did mom ever do it, Buffy couldn’t help wondering suddenly. Ew, gross thought, gross thought. Still though, her practical voice injected, she couldn’t honestly believe that her mom was a nun. Then a wicked thought occurred to her: maybe her mom avoided having Buffy find her in that position, which no child should ever witness, by going to the guy’s house. Too bad Spike didn’t have an abode, humble or otherwise. And no way was she going to anyplace that Spike and Dru had shared. Grr… But still, they could find some isolated part of the school during lunch and… Lunch. Lunch!

Sitting up in her bed, abruptly, Buffy mouthed the words, “Oh my God. Mom meets Giles for lunch. Every day.”

Chapter 23: The punch at a party is always spiked, especially the virgin punch

Darling Niece,

…Your uncle is a terrible dancer… It’s true; he tends to be easily distracted and trips all over the place. At your grandma’s art gallery gala we always end up spending the night standing in the corner… I do make a lot of sacrifices for you uncle. So no, dancing is not something that your uncle is good at, but he does posses other talents...

“Is that your mum and the Watcher disappearing into the office… alone?”

Buffy tripped as she craned her neck in the direction of the gallery office door, straining to catch sight of her mom and Giles. There was nothing to see but the closed door, which was still dark underneath. Then she spotted her mom talking to a client…

She kicked Spike in the shins. Hard.

“Jerk. That wasn’t funny. Nobody knows.” Stepping back into their waltz she muttered, “I still don’t want to know.” How she ever got talked into this black tie affair was beyond her. Spike brushed his hand low on her back. Oh, that’s right, mom didn’t trust her to stay at home alone with Spike.

The gallery was a different place tonight. Her mom had done a great job of turning Sunnydale’s small art gallery into a beautiful venue for a party. The fairy lights and white and gold decorations made the place look magical and yet still managed to accentuate the new pieces of art the party was for. The centre of the room made way for a dance floor and Buffy and Spike were dancing to the sound of the string quartet playing near the entrance. Well, Buffy was trying to dance… Spike kept tripping her and making stupid but funny comments about the people they saw. She was just glad her mum wasn’t looking at them now, as she had been for most of the night.

Spike didn’t even bother to hide his smirk. She was so easy to bait, and honestly, he couldn’t resist. Whirling Buffy around another couple he said, “Well, that rock your mom is sporting will certainly announce things soon enough.”

Buffy stiffened in his arms, shifting mechanically through the dance steps as she absorbed that little fact. She had forgotten about the diamond. After school she had confronted her mom about sleeping with Giles. Deciding the best defence was a good offence, she’d brought it up before her mom could say anything about her becoming Spike’s Mate. As a result they had come to a stalemate. Both were embarrassed but stood steadfast in their allegiance to their current lovers.

And so, here they were now; Buffy not grounded but still under her mom’s watchful eye, and Joyce legalizing her relationship with an immediate engagement. As in, an engagement that was about 5 hours old. But given that she had been Mated, without parental consent, for just over a day, Buffy figured there was a limit to how much she could protest.

Xander and Willow already knew about the *surprise* engagement. She didn’t really care who else found out… although it was sure to downgrade her coolness factor at school when the news hit. Luckily, Willow and Xander had taken it in stride. Well, at least Willow had. Xander was still obsessed with trying to find a way to reverse ‘It.’ ‘It’ being the term he’d given to their Mating. The permanency hadn’t sunk in for him yet.

But Xander’s denial was the least of her problems. Just because her mom and Giles were allowing her and Spike to stay together, for now, didn’t mean they were off the hook. Giles had announced that he was going into full research mode to find their prophecy. The one Spike’s witch said foretold their *destined* coming together. And full research mode meant everybody else was directed towards the dusty tomes too. All this trouble because of some stupid buttons and a broken meter stick. Oh, and a stupid Vamp who’d decided to get all confess-y.

Buffy kicked Spike again.

“Hey, watch the shins pet. They’re already black and blue from those fancy stones your mum has decorating the backyard… you know, from when you bloody shoved me out your bedroom window.”

“When you fell,” Buffy amended. “That’s the least you deserved for getting the brilliant idea to tell Giles everything. You’re the reason mom forced me to come here tonight… this is all your fault.” She kicked him again. High heels should come with steel toes; it wasn’t as if you could squeeze even one real toe into the narrow V-shaped crevice anyway. Waste of space, but steel toes could make use of that…

Spike growled warningly, distracting Buffy from her shoe-engineering thoughts. “Hey, if you want a repeat performance of last night’s activities all you had to do was ask. You don’t have to re-injure me. I’m still plenty annoyed enough to tie you up and…”

Buffy tripped again. Spike was making her look like the world’s clumsiest dancer. About as graceful as a hippo in a tutu… and not the animated Disney kind. Nope, the twirly-challanged, stomping kind that nobody thought were cute. “Shut up,” she told him, embarrassed.

Nonetheless his words unleashed a torrent of memories from last night. He’d snuck back into her room after she’d fallen asleep and somehow managed to get her silk pyjamas off. She woke up on her stomach with her hands bound by her silk pants to the bedposts, just as she had briefly imagined.

He had come back for her after all.

He’d whispered softly in her ear. His voice had been tinged with a hint of annoyance, he was probably still upset from hitting the ground at an unexpected and undesired velocity earlier. “Choose Slayer. I’ll leave you tied up ’til morning… or I fuck you like this and untie you right after.” She’d known that she could break the flimsy bonds easily, but the silken material wasn’t what Spike had really tied her with. It was the thread of steel in his voice, in his actions… his innate dominance that demanded and earned her respect. It turned her on. Giving up control to him without fear because she had total trust that he wouldn’t hurt her.

Spike interrupted Buffy’s continued silence and brought her attention back to the present. “Last night was fun but… This time I could tie just one of your ankles to the bed.” He traced light circles over the back of her hand with his thumb. “You’ll have more freedom but you would feel more restricted. You’ll forget that your foot is tied until the bond pulls tight when you try to move too far.”

Gripping Buffy’s hand more securely, he led them to the edge of the dance floor, away from the crowd of whirling people. “Every time it pulls, you will remember that you are tied to the bed for my pleasure. Unable to escape me.”

He pulled her into a secluded corner of the room… the strong steady tug of his grip made her feel as if he’d already tethered her.

Discretely whispering into her ear he said, “I might even use a long rope to tie you with so you can run off a couple of feet… and I can pull you back to the bed. I’ll tug the rope slowly… let you struggle a little, pet.” He twirled Buffy into the corner, pressing her back against the wall, and gave her a scorching look that promised he’d enjoy her struggles.

Buffy whimpered in response. He had gotten her so hot so quickly… and now she was on the edge.

Spike boxed her in with his arms and leaned in to lick the shell of her ear with one slow swipe. He softly uttered her name, his desire for her evident in those two syllables. Then he whispered the rest of his naughty plan into her ear. “You’ll have just enough time to think about what I’m going to do to you as I pull on the rope... And when I’ve dragged you back to my bed I’ll lick… and kiss… and bite… and fuck… every sweet inch of your body.”

And that easily, Spike made her more than just quiver with his voice. She bit her lip hard and gripped his shoulders with Slayer strength, as his words triggered an orgasm. He’d made her come right in the middle of her mom’s black tie gala at the art gallery while she was dancing the waltz. It wasn’t fair that he was able to do this to her! She went from wilted pleasure, skipping recovery, straight to queen bitch. Stomping on Spike’s toes with her stiletto heel she muttered, “Why didn’t I tuck a stake up my sleeve?”

Spike let his furiously embarrassed Mate go. She was still so damn innocent… and so very passionate. Only he knew that her panties had suddenly gotten a lot wetter. It had been their own private moment. But his sweet Slayer was convinced that the whole dance floor knew and her passionate nature had heated her temper to boiling point instantaneously. He would apologise later… when she’d cooled down. And he knew just the way to make his remorse clear. Luckily, his method also involved her well-used silk pants. Maybe he would buy her another dozen pairs. All in blood red coloured silk.
-------------

“I think the neck scarf is kinda cute, all retro like. Buffy looks cool,” Willow defended her friend. She shuffled along the dance floor to the not-so-smooth waltz Xander was trying to lead. Would he notice if she took the lead? Then again, she wasn’t feeling super steady on her feet at the moment.

“Please, Willow. It practically screams ‘I let my boyfriend chow on my neck’. What she really needs in terms of accessories is a one of them full coverage neck things, like those, um, way-back-then English ladies use to wear. You know, with the every inch of neck covered up and lots of pokey things to get in Spike’s eye if he tries to place another tattoo memento on her neck.”

“A ruff?” Willow just shook her head and said nothing… it was too easy. Besides, Buffy was approaching them with a storm cloud trailing not far behind her. A metaphorical storm cloud, that is, ‘cause a real cloud, inside, was so not of the good.’ Watching her normally bubbly friend rampage across the dance floor as she approached them, Willow decided to play it safe and whirled Xander around so he could act as a buffer. A Buffy-buffer. Ha ha.

Oh God, Willow was starting to think that the ‘pink lady’ punch she’d been drinking wasn’t as lady-like as its name claimed. Looked like these gallery black tie affairs weren’t so stodgy after all. Of course, the punch had likely started out ‘virgin’, but then Spike had gotten near it… and he had that little flask. Another corny joke occurred to her but she didn’t dignify it with acknowledgment.

Xander turned around when he felt a finger trying to poke a hole through the back of his tux. Facing the owner of the pokey finger, he took in his friend’s flushed features. Uh, oh. Maybe he should just pretend that he hadn’t noticed. Safer that way. “Hey Buffy. Willow and I were just saying how, ah… retro, you look tonight. Very cool.”

Willow glared at Xander… not that she was shocked by his blatant negation of his real thoughts. Then she looked back to Buffy. “Do you want to get some punch?” Hopefully the punch would make Buffy forget about whatever had her storming.

Buffy read Willow’s invitation as more than just getting re-hydrated. Nodding her head, she looked to Xander. She didn’t want to desert him, but she needed some girl chat time… and as feminine as Xander could sometimes be… Oh, that was a mean thought. Spike had put her in a really bad mood. She had to try not to take it out on all men.

“Buff, Will? If you guys will excuse me, I’ll see if I can find our fanged friend. We can’t leave him all by himself, causing mischief. Imagine what the critics will say about your mom’s gala if some of her guests are eaten.”

Willow breathed a sigh of relief. Pulling Buffy towards the refreshment table before she could say anything about Spike’s changed diet, Willow looked back and gave Xander a grateful smile.

“Spike doesn’t eat people anymore,” Buffy belatedly muttered.

Willow tried to ignore the word ‘anymore’. She didn’t want to think of how Spike had happily snacked on people not too long ago. All that was holding him back now was his word to Buffy. Big deal… he didn’t have a conscience to guilt-trip him if he decided to give into temptation. So what was really holding him to it? She would just have to put her trust in his promise to Buffy. Of course, she would continue to carry the holy water, two stakes and blessed rosary in her schoolbag until Spike left Sunnydale again. Wait, he probably wasn’t ever going to leave now that he and Buffy were Mates. Willow groaned.

“Do you have a headache? Need some fresh air?” Buffy asked, forgetting her own concerns when she heard her best friend let out a pained groan. She poured them both a glass of punch and handed one to her suffering friend.

Willow gulped down the pink liquid, and then grabbed Buffy’s and drank that too. Spiked punch… that should help her forget about Spike… and his diet. Oohhh… now she was buzzed by the Spike-y alcohol… and the room was kinda spin-y. Maybe she should have let Buffy have her own punch. Of course, Buffy was already Spiked, just… in a different way.

Please, God, Willow thought. If you can just, somehow, let me wake up under my covers in bed… and make this all over with… I will be so thankful… and I will promise to be good… and I will not drink… and I will stay away from pink lady punch from now on… well, just the pink lady punch that Spike spikes… and, also, could you please not let Spike eat me because I…

Buffy caught Willow as she gracefully fell forward. Grumbling, “Gee, that was a great cheer-me-up talk,” she helped her friend outside to some sobering fresh air. Well, it wouldn’t really sober her up, but at least Willow could barf in peace. Obviously the punch was extra special.

She sure wished she’d gotten a glass. Damn it.

Willow regained her bearings, slightly, as the breeze hit her face. “Sorry Buffy, I’m not much of a… what did Spike put in that punch anyway?”

Spike fortified the punch? Figured. Mark another X beside his name. “I don’t think either of us want to know. Lets just sit on the bench and take a breather, ok? Mom has got to be breaking fire code regulations with the crowd she has in there tonight. It takes 20 minutes just to find the end of the line for the bathroom.”

Willow laughed -everything was super funny tonight- and sat on the stone bench. “So, um, what’s got you all grr-grumpy?” she asked when Buffy sat beside her. Willow was tipsy, but she still had a sacred duty to vilify whoever pissed Buffy off. Not that she really needed to be told who it was. Spike managed to annoy everyone… usually sooner than later.

“Are you packing a stake?” Buffy asked.

“Of course,” Willow automatically replied. Then her alcohol slogged-down brain caught up to her mouth… she hastily backtracked. “Oh, wait. I, um, left my stakes in my… schoolbag. Forgot to put one in my jacket. Whoops. Sorry, Buffy.”

“That’s ok,” Buffy reassured her nervous friend. “Staking is probably too fast. Do you have a lighter? Matches? Gasoline?”

Willow laughed again as she realized Buffy wasn’t serious. At least she hoped that Buffy wasn’t serious. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t hurt to keep Buffy away from the smokers in case she decided to borrow a lighter. “The honeymoon is over?” she asked. It was still really weird to think of Buffy and Spike as a couple.

“Well actually…”
 

Chapter 23(b): The punch at a party is always spiked, especially the virgin punch

Part B

“The honeymoon is over?” she asked. It was still really weird to think of Buffy and Spike as a couple.

“Well actually…”

“Excuse me, Miss, would you happen to be Joyce’s daughter?”

Buffy looked up to see a handsome, dark-haired man addressing her. He was expensively dressed in the usual black & white, but the jade cuff links he had on immediately jumped out at her. Probably because they was so large. She had never seen cuff links like those before.

“Yes, I’m Buffy,” she answered, peering up at the gentleman.

The gentleman broke into a polished smile, extending his hand to first Buffy and then Willow to shake. “I’m Wesley Wyndham-Price. It’s lovely to meet you both.” He turned around and offered them both a glass of punch. The girls both took a cup; Willow looking a little green, and Buffy putting hers on the small stone table. He took a small sip from his own cup and placed it next to Buffy’s.

Willow eyed the punch the gentleman offered them with suspicion. If he’d brought punch out for them then he’d had to have seen them exit, and no doubt he’d known who Buffy was before introducing himself. Something was weird. What did he want? She still felt tipsy, but now the aura of danger modestly sharpened her awareness.

“Well ladies, I apologise if I interrupted your conversation but I just had to come over and make your acquaintances. Miss Summers, your mother told me that you were responsible for arranging the setup of the exhibit in the charcoal room. I must pay tribute to your efforts. It’s marvellous, absolutely marvellous. The use of space is outstanding, and I do believe the sequence of the display brings out many of the photographer’s small details.”

Buffy blushed under the exuberant praise and ducked her head to hide a wince of guilt. She had tried to set the room up badly when her mom had forced her to hang boring pictures of some stupid bridge she had never seen, around the grey room.

Willow piped up, “Gee, Buffy, I didn’t know you set up one of the displays. Maybe we should go in and take a look. I haven’t seen it.” She set her full glass of punch aside and got up. At least people would surround them again. Willow didn’t trust this guy… he was too suave, too willing to charm the young daughter of a business associate. She turned her nose up at him, which actually wasn’t a smart idea in her tipsy state, and reached for Buffy’s arm.

“Miss? Please, if I may be so bold, could I request that we wait for a few moments before we go to admire Miss Summers’ handiwork? The room is so overcrowded that I do not think all three of us could manage to squeeze in there. It truly is a popular display, a credit to your talents, no doubt, Miss Summers.”

“Thank you, really.” Buffy said, overwhelmed. “But I’m sure that the photographer’s own talents are the true attraction. My mother only takes on quality art.” Glancing at Willow she saw that her friend wanted to go back inside. Spike and his smug smirk would be ready to descend upon her if she returned to the dance floor. Speaking volumes with her eyes Buffy said, “Why don’t you both go first? I’ll catch up. I just want to take in another minute of un-recycled air.” Of course she’d probably breathe in some dust when she staked the Vamp hanging out in the darkness. She had just sensed him. The leg off of that side table would do.

A little bit of violence would do wonders to restore her good humour.

“If you don’t mind, I will remain with you and partake of the fresh air myself for a while longer. Perhaps your friend could go on ahead without escort?” He gave Willow a charming smile. “I hope you won’t mind if I steal the company of your talented friend for a couple of minutes. I promise not to exhaust her with dozens of questions on how she designed the charcoal room’s set up.”

Interpreting Buffy’s ‘trust me and play along’ look, Willow murmured her agreement and carefully headed back inside. She was proud that she managed to walk the distance to the doors without tripping over her own feet. Thank goodness she hadn’t drunk that last glass of punch. Now, where was everyone?

The vampire Buffy sensed hidden out in the darkness was moving closer… her senses niggled something else to her, but she was too distracted by the presence of Mr. GQ. She nervously drank a glass of punch down while she pondered how the heck she could get Mr. GQ to leave her alone. He was sweet and admiring, but much too old for her to pay any attention to. Besides, she had a staking to attend to. Finishing the drink quickly, she faked a cough, as if the punch had gone down the wrong way.

The gentleman smacked her on her back, rather unhelpfully and very firmly, asking, “Miss Summers are you ok?” He rubbed her upper back and held her shoulders.

Buffy almost choked for real. The Vamp behind her had pretty much smacked the breath right out of her. Fuck. How come she hadn’t sensed that GQ was a Vamp? Even now her Vamp senses weren’t going off for him, they were signalling something further outside, beyond the light. But his super-naturally strong blow to her back was nearly definitive. All she needed was to see some bumplies.

GQ bent closer to Buffy’s neck… no it was her ear he was getting close to. He politely inquired, “Would you like another drink?”

She took advantage of his offer… it would mean that he’d have to go back inside for a few moments. There would be plenty of time for her to make a stake. Nodding her assent, she coughed once again for effect.

Her coughs ceased as soon as a glass of punch was placed under her nose… the glass that the GQ Vamp hadn’t sipped from yet.

“I would get you a new one, but the situation lends itself to urgency and what is on hand. Please, drink it and soothe your throat.” He bent down on one knee and stared at her.

She didn’t want to tip GQ off by refusing his drink, but that first glass was racing towards her brain much too quickly for comfort. Why did Spike have to dump more alcohol in the punch than fruit juice? She still had a staking to complete… and she didn’t even have a stake yet.

Then, suddenly, Buffy sensed the Vamp she had sensed first closing in on them. Shit. Just what she needed: two Vamps and no weapons. A little panicked, she tossed the glass away and untied her neck scarf as a last resort. It might at least provide a momentary distraction so she could go inside and get reinforcements.

GQ stood up and tightly gripped her shoulders from behind. He chuckled. “So you know who I am, little Slayer? What gave it away?” He ripped the neck scarf off before Buffy could untie it fully. “I know you are Mated. I could sense it from across the room. That little piece of decorative material can’t hide your Mate’s Mark.”

He had the advantage, standing above and behind her seated position, but she didn’t intend for him to keep his advantage. The other Vamp was practically upon them. Buffy grabbed onto the edges of the stone bench and used it to bear her weight as she swung her legs up over her head and wrapped them around GQ’s neck, squeezing. Hanging upside down from his neck, she re-gripped the bench, lifted it up and threw it at the direction she could sense the other Vamp charging from. GQ had to take on her weight and the bench’s since she was suspended from him. As he stumbled, she dropped her hands forward to the ground into a handstand and kicked him backwards. She had meant to use him as a springboard, the momentum flipping her backwards to land gracefully on her feet. The spiked punch, combined with being upside down, had dizzy-fied her brain. So the flip worked - only she didn’t land on her feet… her bottom would be sore for days. Looking into the darkness for the other Vamp, she cringed as she saw Spike’s angry form step into the dim light.

He was carrying the stone bench and limping badly.

Spike growled as the man Buffy had attacked recovered quickly and reached for her. Spike reached her first, although the man managed to reach Buffy’s golden hair and pull out several strands. That’s when the man showed his own bumplies, Vamping in frustration and shocking the heck out of Spike. He hadn’t sensed that the man was actually a Vamp. And he should have. Spike realized now that only loudly thudding heartbeat was Buffy’s.

Safe in Spike’s arms, Buffy turned and watched as GQ madly dashed into the darkness. Coward. And he fought like a girl. Pulling hair? How lame was that?

Spike pressed his lips against Buffy’s Mark, reassuring himself of her safety. He should have approached her earlier but he was afraid he would break his no-drinking-humans promise if he got anywhere close to the guy who was flirting with his Mate. Dangerously aroused after his dance and conversation with Buffy earlier, a little violence would have been a perfect outlet. If he had known the sodding ponce was a Vamp, he would have dusted the idiot within seconds for going near his Mate.

Buffy turned to face Spike, reaching up to smother him with relieved kisses. She was so glad that he was ok… that she hadn’t seriously injured him with the bench. What the hell had he been thinking, charging up like that without saying anything? What if she had thrown a stake?

Spike kissed Buffy back hungrily. His demon seethed just under the surface, aroused by the recent threat to his Mate. She tasted like the pink-hangover he had concocted earlier. It was probably the reason why the Vamp had managed to get away. Was staking the Vamps with a clear mind not enough of a challenge for her anymore? Naturally he didn’t blame himself for spiking the punch to start with.

“Ew, Willow. I’m not so sure Buffy is in danger, unless you consider Spike-cooties dangerous… which, actually, I would. Of course, if we were Joyce or Giles, then they’d be in danger.” Xander’s voice obnoxiously commented. “For the sake of my eyes, please, stop doing that!”

Buffy hastily broke off the kiss and spun around. There was Xander to match his Xander voice, and Willow was standing just behind him.

Stuttering, Willow apologised to Buffy. “I’m… I’m sorry. We’re sorry. It’s just; I thought you were in danger. That guy was weird… and I thought you gave me the go-and-get-reinforcements look, not the go-and-don’t-come-back look. You know, those are really similar looks… one wrong blink and it’s a whole other story.” Willow stubbed her toe against the cobblestones, hanging her head.

Surprisingly, Spike spoke up. “Don’t worry Red. I’m glad you scampered off to get reinforcements.” He gave the word reinforcements emphasis and looked at Xander questioningly, but nonetheless said, “And you too. Thanks for rushing in.” Spike omitted his preferred choice of ponce or boy to label Xander and just stuck with an impersonal ‘you.’ The poncy boy should be grateful.

Xander didn’t look grateful. “Well, if I’d known I was going to be rushing out here to watch you stick your tongue down Buffy’s throat, I might have stayed next to the punch bowl instead.”

“Ew, Xander,” both Buffy and Willow said.

Spike couldn’t really find fault with Xander’s comment… he honesty would have done the same thing if he were in the boy’s shoes. And he was impressed with the way that the Slayer’s friends had rushed to her rescue. Red, and the Ponce, hadn’t even stopped for weapons -he would have to talk to them about that later- but there was no doubt that Buffy’s friends were loyal.

Limping over to Buffy’s would-be rescuers, Spike took out the silver flask he had hidden in his coat pocket. He sniffed it to be sure it wasn’t the one filled with his O-neg snack then threw it to Xander, who managed to catch it pretty deftly for a guy who was naturally clumsy. “What say we have a friendly little nip and forget about this incident?”

Willow eyed the flask with trepidation, but she didn’t say anything. Buffy on the other hand vocalized her thoughts quite loudly. “I don’t think so, Spike.”

“I wasn’t offering you any, pet,” Spike bluffed.

Buffy walked up to Xander, grabbed the flask, opened it, and tipped a good mouthful of its contents down her throat. Then she choked, gasped, and coughed out something about steel toes.

Willow eyed the flask even more warily as she watched Buffy wipe tears away. Then she saw the look of admiration in Xander’s eyes as he hooted, “Way to go, Buffster!” One little sip couldn’t be that bad.

It was.

As Xander finally got the flask back from the two ladies and brought it to his lips, he heard a polite cough from behind him. Then Joyce’s voice called out, “Xander Harris, what are you doing?” He sprayed very good spirits all over Spike’s jacket.

“Hey, mate,” Spike yelled, surprised.

“Xander, give me that,” Giles said authoritatively, taking the flask away. He tipped the confiscated flask to his own lips and took a generous swallow.

Spike grinned widely as the Watcher drank, noting that unlike all of the rest he didn’t choke and gasp like a novice.

“Giles,” Joyce said, stunned.

“After the day we have had?” Giles responded.

Joyce took the flask and finished it off.

stay tuned folks... the next few chapters have some of my favourite scenes/dialogue :)

Impetuous

by Hang Nga & Chanel

Hey, Impetuous is up for the reader's choice at Vampire Kisses awards. Please, oh, pretty please, go vote for me: Go Vote

As a *cough*bribe*cough* here's the next chappy...

Chapter 24: Tea, Pooh Bear and a little Role-Playing can fix anything

PART A:
Darling niece,

…I didn’t know the office in your grandma’s art gallery had a two-way mirror. Did you get to spy on all the people in the gallery? Did anyone do something gross? I can just imagine how much fun you had playing with that mirror…

“I’m going to kill him… stake him, leave all the blinds in the house open, put holy water in his mug of blood before I microwave it…”

Giles looked up from the book he was currently perusing to eye the kind, caring woman he had recently engaged himself too. Her bloodthirstiness would have been disturbing, except that it was directed towards Spike. Still, perhaps it would be best if he discovered what had prompted the sudden burst of homicidal tendencies from his fiancée.

“Joyce, not that I want to discourage you, but why are you planning to dust Spike?”

Joyce flipped the cover of her book up so Giles could read the title.

Giles immediately took off his glasses and started polishing. He could have sworn he’d hidden that book away. He gave Joyce what he hoped was a calming look and tried to pacify her. “That is the translated version. There is bound to be errors and misunderstandings when going from the original text. I’m sure that the actual Vampyric Mating ritual is nothing like that passage describes. I mean, really, do you think that Buffy would let Spike do anything as barbaric as…”

Obviously barbaric wasn’t the best word choice. He probably should have pretended ignorance of the contents. In all honesty, he hadn’t reread that reference since he acquired it 6 years ago. All he remembered from his perusal was the sense of animalistic power that threaded throughout the ritual. Joyce didn’t look at all appeased by his rambled excuse… it actually made her grip the book tightly enough to cause a page to tear. He bit back a moan of concern as his nearly irreplaceable book was mangled by his murderous fiancée.

“How could he do this to her? First Angel and now… now my poor baby is stuck to another vicious demon, and we can’t just send this one to some convenient hell dimension.”

“Well actually,” Giles said, and then paused as Joyce avidly listened to his words. “Never mind, what’s important is that we find out *why* Spike did this. He made Buffy his Mate and that is not something to be taken lightly. Like Spike said, there has to be something mentioned about their Mating; a prophecy or some other passage among my books.” Giles placed his right hand over the solid, trustworthy book in front of him. Just touching it brought him a sense of assurance.

Joyce gave Giles a look of utter disgust, totally unconvinced. “Oh, I’m sure there’s lots of obscure, vague passages… but you’d have to read the books to find them! When was the last time you read this?” she asked, thumping the book in question onto the table. “Aren’t you supposed to know about these things? You’re Buffy’s Watcher; the one who is supposed to prepare and help her.”

“Well, it was a while ago that I read it, er, maybe 6 years, but that book references things that no Watcher should ever have to research. I mean, what are the chances that I would be the first Watcher who’s Slayer is Mated to a Vampire?”

Joyce’s eyes flashed murderous intent…

Giles chuckled nervously. That probably wasn’t the best thing to say to the mother of the Slayer. He tried some damage control. “What I mean is there are many prophecies and rituals, and I, as a Watcher, limit my study of them to what I believe are the most relevant to the Chosen One.” There, that sounded reasonable, and it justified his failure to know that particular book inside out.

Joyce threw the book at Giles head.

“That’s my daughter you’re talking about there. Not just the Slayer. Not just she who was Chosen. My Daughter!” she screamed, grabbing up more books and scrolls from the table and whipping them at Giles. “You don’t get to just sit there and tell me that you *limited* yourself to what was the most relevant,” she ordered, voice cracking with emotion. She backed up as Giles approached her, swallowing awkwardly as her suddenly sore, dry throat closed up preventing further speech.

“Joyce. I never meant… you know Buffy is not just a Slayer to me. She never was, not even from the first day. She refused to be, you know.” He tried to pull her into a comforting embrace, but Joyce brushed him off, hands trembling with distress. He took another tack, doing the one thing that had never failed him. He walked over to behind his desk and plugged in the kettle to make tea: bracing, reassuring, dependable English tea
.

Joyce’s scratchy voice asked in a faint whisper, “What do you mean ‘she refused to be’?”

Giles kept his back to Joyce, allowing his face to express the emotion he had to mute in his voice. That was one thing that the English taught their children well, the so-called stiff upper lip. Or in his case the un-scratchy voice; Joyce needed his strength right now.

“She never allowed me to make her the perfect Slayer. At first she tried to ignore her calling. I had to chase her down at that club, the Bronze, just to talk to her. And when my *faithful* books told me a prophecy concerning her death, she refused to bend to it. She told me to find someone else as she was quitting. She reminded me that she was 16 year old girl too… she didn’t want to die so young.” he said with a thread of bitterness, “Of course, she wasn’t able to ignore her fate in the end. She even knocked me unconscious when I tried to stop her.” He rushed to grab the kettle as it clicked, grateful for the distraction, and poured boiling water into some mugs.

Joyce watched as Giles casually prepared tea. He had made tea the night she had come raging to his house, after Buffy had run away. He had made tea when he found her crying over the basket of Buffy’s clothes she had finally laundered, a month after her daughter had disappeared. And now he was performing the familiar ritual again: drop in teabags, set saucers over the mugs to trap the steam… She watched as his motions shifted the material of his shirt and was soothed by the normalcy of his ritual. Her anger faded as quickly as it had risen. But as Giles finished his preparations she saw how he’d become stiffer. He handed her a mug with all the appearance of effortless informality, but his motions were too perfect, too controlled.

Giles set his mug of tea down on the table, too tense to try and sip the hot beverage. He looked up and was caught by Joyce’s perceptive stare. She didn’t say anything to him, didn’t offer empathy, or worse, sympathy through a barrage of hollow words.

He accepted her guileless kiss, pulled her quietly into his embrace to partake of her gentle understanding.

Joyce tipped her face back welcomingly and encouraged Giles to accept comfort from her simple kiss. She smiled against his lips as she felt the usually tightly controlled Watcher clutch at her shoulders, impassioned. He probably wasn’t even aware that he was fervently running his hands through her hair, messing it up and unmasking his true, volatile emotions to her. How could he have forgotten that with her he could take off the mantle of Watcher and just be Giles?

---------

She eagerly parted her lips as her lover licked them, begging for entrance. Their tongues met; first gently exploring, and then passionately tasting. She moaned as her tongue was ardently sucked into her lover’s mouth and then gently bit. Why had she waited so long to share these feelings? How could she have denied herself this pleasure? Sighing as she tumbled onto…

“Willow?”

“Hmm… um… Xander!” Willow discreetly hid the book under her pillow. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Xander sat down on Willow’s bed, leaning back to rest on his elbows. Looking over at her he asked, “Headache?”

Willow slowly nodded her head… gentle and gradual movements were the key to not making it worse. Of course, not drinking to begin with…

Xander smiled sympathetically. Neither Willow nor Buffy were very mix-y with alcohol. “What are you reading?”

“Um, just school stuff… a book for school…”

Groaning Xander said, “You’re the only person I know who does homework when you have a hangover.”

Switching topics, Willow asked, “Did Buffy and Spike finish cleaning up the gallery?”

“Not sure, I didn’t see them yet. I’m still avoiding the Summers’ house. Buffy’s mom was pretty mad when she saw the charcoal room display.”

“Well, generally photographs of a bridge should be hung with the bridge making a ‘n’ shaped curve, not a ‘u.’ I don’t think her mom bought the whole I-was-trying-to-be creative line. And Spike defiled the virgin punch, so he was on the crap list too.”

Xander let himself fall all the way back to rest on Willow’s bed, hands under his head. At least he and Willow were able to spend a bit of time together. Things had been hectic since Buffy returned to Sunnydale with a Spikey pet in tow. He wasn’t sure that the Vamp could be trusted. And he needed to talk to Willow about it… Ok, he needed to complain to her.

“So how come you here? I thought we were meeting up at the library later to research Spike’s witch.”

“Spike,” Xander spit out, grouchy. “What was Buffy thinking, bringing him back with her?”

“Xander, I think it was more Spike brought Buffy back here, not the other way around.”

“He’s a Vampire. She should just dust him. End of story! The curse won’t kill Buffy if she stakes him, so why not? We don’t need him. He’s evil.”

“Evil? Yes. But Buffy does need him. What about the maid-Vamp… the one who was stronger than Buffy and could stand in sunlight? It’s going to take both of them to dust her.” Willow looked pointedly at Xander and added, “Besides, didn’t you share a buddy-buddy drink with him last night? What’s with the about-face?”

“Hey, everyone had a drink except me.”

“Not for lack of trying, Xander. It’s like you took the olive branch and then threw it in the fire when he had his back turned.” She frowned at him.

“He would do the same to us. Again I say, Evil Undead. He’ll hand Buffy over to Dru gift wrapped if Dru removes the curse. He has no loyalties, no ties to us.”

Sighing, Willow lay back on the bed beside Xander. He could be so perceptive sometimes, but he could also be very opinionated and narrow-minded. Of course, even at his worst he was still saying something the rest of them only dared to think, a glimmer of doubt in the back of their minds. None of them would have accepted Spike into the group if Buffy hadn’t insisted on it. None of them really trusted him… and with good reason. Like Xander said, evil undead. But as Willow pondered all of this she realized Xander was wrong in one respect: Spike did have ties. He was tied to Buffy through the Mating. She and Xander had gotten the abbreviated version, but she had gleaned that Mating was permanent. So, permanent ties.

“I think he has to protect her now that she’s his mate. He can’t just give her to Dru. It’s all demon-y instinct or something. Anyway, it’s none of our business.”

“If we don’t pay attention, no one else will. Giles and Joyce are too busy having ‘afternoon tea’ to see what’s happening to Buffy.”

“Xander!” Willow scolded. She didn’t need that mental picture.

“Fine, we won’t talk about it. I’m just saying we have to keep our eyes open… watch Spike.”

“Ok,” Willow agreed. “We’ll watch him, but you have to try and be more tolerant for Buffy’s sake. Things are difficult enough as it is with Dru’s assassins and everything. I don’t want her cutting us out of her life again. She’s our friend, Xander, and we need to stand by her side. That’s what friends do.”

Xander just grunted in response.

Willow reached over and grabbed Xander’s hand resting on her cover, squeezing it reassuringly. She smiled when he squeezed back. Looking up at the stars he had helped her put up on her ceiling in the 5th grade she whispered, “‘We will be friends until forever, just you wait see.’”

Xander smiled sideways at her and said, “The great philosopher Pooh Bear?”

“Nothing but the best for you.”

PART B

The cold glass fogged up around the edges of her spread fingers. She stayed perfectly still, as he had asked, except for the slight movement of her ribcage as she breathed slow and deep. She stared out into the empty gallery through the mirror. It was the sort they have in shops and police stations, which are reflective on one side and see through on the other.. She focused on listening to his approaching footsteps. He returned to stand just behind her. Not breathing, not touching. Just standing silently, inches away from her naked skin.

Spike dropped down into a crouch, reaching for Buffy’s left leg. He curled his fingers gently around the supple curve of her calf, caressing its full length, and marvelled that such power could be disguised as a delicate limb. Not delicate, his Slayer. Strong. Resilient. Trailing his fingers from the back of her leg to her shin, he bent forward and licked the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Buffy parted her legs further at Spike’s whispered request. His hair brushed against the sensitive, seldom touched skin there. Only centimetres measured the distance between the top of his head and her quim. Her breath hissed out in a rush as he nipped and sucked, leaving a trail of love bites to mark his progress to the back of her knee. He swirled his tongue into the shallow hollow there while he used both hands to lift her leg up to hang over the arm of an office chair. Buffy felt her leg muscles stretch to accommodate her new, revealing, position. At least, revealing from Spike current perspective; on the ground between her knees.

Spike placed a supportive hand on Buffy’s bottom as he positioned her the way he wanted: slightly bent over, hands on the mirror and one leg propped on the chair arm. He stood up behind her, running his hands up her arched back and around to her soft breasts. Whispering into her ear, he reminded her of their game. “Can you see them, pet? Dancing past… staring right at you without knowing? Can you feel their eyes?”

Buffy stared at the empty gallery, but Spike’s words easily conjured up the image of the people that had filled its rooms yesterday. People watching her… just like she had imagined when Spike had made her come in that darkened corner last night… shamelessly. Except today she didn’t feel the mortification that had overwhelmed her before… She trembled with anticipation instead.

“I think that one likes seeing me play with your pretty titties, luv. See how he keeps looking back? He’s so distracted he keeps on stopping in the middle of the dance floor, struck motionless by your beauty.” Spike cupped her breasts and lifted them up, displaying their plump bounty to their *observers*. “Should I let him have a taste?” he asked, nipping her ear when she nodded yes.

Spike growled, hands tightening a little as his body tensed in refusal. He’d make short work of any fool that approached his Mate.

Buffy just managed to smother a giggle… she didn’t want to ruin the mood. Oh God, only Spike could make himself jealous of someone he’d made up! But then Spike yanked her tight against him, pressing the hard length of his cock between their aroused bodies. She forgot all about giggles… a moan slipped out instead.

“I’m going to make him watch instead, luv. Let him see me take you… show him that you’re mine. And you, pet… you get to watch his face as I touch, kiss and fuck your body… What do his eyes tell you, pet? Does he think you’re naughty? Let’s not disappoint him then…”

Buffy felt unashamedly naughty as Spike’s words conjured up a secret admirer looking at her from the other side of the mirror. Her admirer pursed his lips in disapproval as she let Spike lick his way down to a kneeling position between her knees. She laughed at her admirer with her eyes, flaunting… Spike’s wicked role-play was tearing down her inhibitions.

Spike ducked his head back in between Buffy’s legs, licking and nipping the soft skin of her inner things. When he reached her extended knee, he turned his head back up to look at her beautiful quim, fully exposed. “So lovely, baby,” he told her, breathing in the scent of her arousal deeply.

“Spike, please, now,” Buffy pleaded, lowering herself towards his talented mouth. He’d already made her wait so long…

Spike reached up and grabbed her hips, halting her movement. “Not yet,” he chided. Using her hips as leverage, he pulled himself forward so he was facing her nicely trimmed triangle of light brown curls. Unable to resist, he threaded the fingers of one hand through her springy hair, massaging the skin underneath.

It was driving her crazy having him so close, making her achingly aroused, yet knowing he wouldn’t touch her there… yet. She braced herself against the mirror as he moved his hands around to the curved cheeks of her bottom, grabbing and massaging them. The first lick of his cold tongue on her abdomen was startling.

He swirled his tongue around her belly button, clasped his mouth over it and sucked. Continuing to play over her skin with his tongue, he slowly stood up, running his hands up over the delicate swells of her hips and the indentation of her waist. Looking up, he told her possessively, “Mine.”

Spike’s demon was aroused at his declaration. Fighting back Vamp features, he took a moment to get a rein on the demon. Not time to unleash it yet. He noticed Buffy staring at him as he forced the demon back, a sweet shiver running through her body as his eyes flashed yellow at her. Growling his pleasure at her reaction, he told her to spread her arms and stood up fully between them, momentarily blocking her view of the room. Bringing his hands up, he cupped both of her breasts, lifting and caressing them. He thumbed her nipples, making them harden and stiffen into succulent nubbins. Those he would savour in a moment, first he had to taste her mouth.

Buffy eagerly met Spike’s kiss, taking her hands off the glass to grab onto his shoulders. She mewled in disappointment when he broke their kiss abruptly.

Spike grabbed Buffy’s hands and placed them back on the mirror behind him. “You know the rules, pet. Got to stay like this for me. Please, kitten, I promise to make it so good for you.”

He didn’t have to ask her twice. She kept her hands pressed against the glass, curling her fingers as he continued caressing her breasts. Her moan of desire as he brushed his thumb over her aroused nipples was smothered by another kiss.

“Tell me you’re mine, luv. Let me taste you saying it,” he begged her, nibbling the corner of her mouth open.

“Yours, Spike,” she whispered, feeling the words come from deep inside her. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, determined to at least use her mouth to play since her hands were forbidden. His cold tongue tangled with hers until she nipped it gently, reminding him that this was her mouth and her rules. He couldn’t have all the control, she thought, soothing her bite with gentler licks.

Breaking off from Buffy’s lips after she thoroughly kissed him, Spike lowered his head and sucked an erect nipple into his mouth. Tonguing its sensitive tip, he licked his way to the underside of her breast, lifting the soft mound and gently squeezing. Flitting his tongue across her chest to the other breast, he repeated the process. He could smell Buffy’s quim juices strongly now as her arousal mounted. Unable to hold himself back from going down and tasting that sweet fluid much longer, he gave her breast one last squeeze and stepped under her arm to move behind her.

She was unbelievably ready for him. Wetness coated her thighs already, a mixture of sweat and slippery arousal that formed as his mouth and hands played over her body. Bending forward further she proudly displayed her bottom to him, tempting him to stroke his hands over its firm roundness. She gasped in surprise when he complied with her silent request, squatting to lick the skin just above her ass. His tongue laved her softly, moving downwards. Wait! He wouldn’t kiss her *there*, would he?

“Trust me, baby,” Spike said, grasping her hips firmly so she couldn’t evade his mouth. He traced his tongue over the skin of her lowest vertebrae to calm her and then returned to the concave area before the swell of her gorgeous ass. Releasing one hip, he placed his freed hand between her legs, fingers seeking out her clit to distract her from thinking about where his mouth was. He rubbed her aroused clit and sank one finger deep into her tight passage. When she moved her hips, asking him for more, he inserted another finger and then pumped them in and out to the rhythm she set. She was softly panting now, her body flushed with arousal. He let his tongue slip from her lower back to between her cheeks, smiling as her body trembled with pleasure from the novel caress.

“Spike, please. I need you to… ohh, like that,” Buffy moaned as he moved down to her swollen clit. Her left leg ached a bit from being on the chair for so long but Spike’s mouth made her forget all about that slight discomfort. If being posed this way allowed him to bury his head between her thighs and *kiss* her so thoroughly then she wasn’t going to shift one inch. He continued to pump his fingers in and out, sucking on her clit in rhythm with the stoke of his hand. As he sucked he wiggled his tongue, pressing it against her engorged flesh and sending sparks of pleasure into her quim.

She tasted like ambrosia. He knew it was trite, but there truly was no other word that could justly describe it. It was so hard for him to tear himself away from her lovely quim as she trembled on the verge of an orgasm. She had made him promise that they would come together. Giving her a few more soothing licks he pulled his dripping wet fingers out of her body. He was going to replace them with something much better. Buffy whimpered as he withdrew, probably regretting her decision to wait for him, but she didn’t say anything. Stubborn; maybe next time she wouldn’t be so insistent.

Her fingers had curled all the way into fists, knuckles against the mirror bracing her for Spike’s thrust. But he slid into to her slowly, one careful inch at a time as his lips searched for his Mark on her neck. She tilted her head to allow him better access, sighing his name when he found the Mark and proceeded to suck on it. Gentle, measured and cautious thrusts kept her on the verge of coming, making her wait while he caught up. “Spike!” Buffy complained, squeezing her inner muscles to hurry him along. When he continued with his leisurely pace, she shifted her hips back, rotating them to multiply the delicious friction of his thrusts.

“Naughty girl,” Spike gasped. He grabbed her hips and stilled her mischievous movements. He couldn’t do anything about her muscles clutching his dick greedily every time he slid inside her, wrapping him in heat and moisture. So fucking good. Pulling all the way out, he nudged the head of his cock against her hot clit.

“Not fair,” Buffy panted. She tried to nudge the head of his cock back inside, but he eluded her wet quim with a quick backwards movement. Frustrated, she started to take her hands off of the mirror, but his sharply voiced, “Slayer!” reminded her of their rules. Stupid rules. Given no other choice, she pleaded, “Please. Need… Want.”

Spike rubbed against her sensitized flesh, and listened to her sweetly beg him to put it back in. Such delightful pleading deserved to be rewarded, so he did put it back in; out and in, with long, full strokes that had them both climbing to their peaks.

He was almost there. Buffy could tell by the way his fingers clung more tightly to her hips and how he began to propel into her more powerfully. Thank God! She didn’t think she could have held off much longer. “Almost there, baby,” he whispered, confirming her thoughts. Without looking back she knew that he had Vamped and let the demon come out to play. These last few moments, when he was so uncontrolled and wild with passion for her, were when their lovemaking became almost primitive. Their rythym increased. Both of them functioned solely on instincts, driving towards the fulfillment of their elemental needs. Neither worried about how their actions would be perceived, they just freed themselves and took exactly what they wanted.

Spike sunk his fangs deeply into Buffy’s shoulder on the side of his Mark as he shot his seed into her pulsating channel. He heard Buffy scream his name as she came, pushing her hips back against his to bring him even more deeply into her body. They stood there for endless moments, bodies tense, as the pleasure ripped though them.

Appetite sated, Buffy slumped, exhausted, in Spike’s arms. Grabbing her around the waist with one hand for support, he lifted her tired leg off the chair and turned her to face him. Smiling smugly he asked, “So, pet, how’s the hangover?”

“Hangover? What hangover?” Buffy mumbled.

Chapter 25: Family: more stressful than the IRS and less avoidable

Spike’s comment to Giles after observing Dawn’s children fighting… again:

“How can anyone hate their kid enough to give them a sibling?”

“I suppose that’s exactly what dishwater blonde is… mousy and boring and weak. Appropriate for such a powerless witch.”

Ignoring the brunette’s cutting remarks, the witch in question flicked her dark honey coloured hair out of reach. How could anyone have radiant tresses after weeks of being denied a shower? Her light coloured hair showcased the built up dirt like a white car did road dust.

“She’s not powerless, she’s just… stupid.”

The witch let her full attention fall to the stylish speaker. This was the one she had to watch, the one to worry about. Most of the time the brunette was too absorbed in obtaining the attention of her dearest ‘Mommy’ to be a real threat. But this one, Wesley, was as dangerous as they came.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice him, sweet witch? They’re all a pathetic lot, predictable creatures that barely know how to use a phone, or, heaven forbid, send an email. Stuffy… traditional… conservative to the core. Of course, the *first* thing he would do is come rushing to the Slayer’s side to tell her, in person, about the prophecy.”

The witch grimaced.

“Oh, don’t worry. I made sure to meet the junior Watcher first. He wasn’t too hard to find… a man carrying an ancient text stands out, even in Sunnydale. Not too many people interested in prophecies regarding a Slayer and a Vampire… except, perhaps, a nosy little witch… and Rupert Giles.” The last name was uttered with distaste.

She tried not to flinch when Wesley threw the frightened, beaten man he was holding at her feet. Oh, the poor Watcher she thought. Why hadn’t he just phoned the Slayer? She’d sent the dreams to him, done what she could. She’d nearly fainted when the Watcher had headed to Sunnydale. And now her greatest fears had been realised… he’d been captured.

Darn, but this put a kink in her plans. When would those council morons figure out that wearing tweed and carrying a book of prophecies around in Sunnydale was like waving a big red flag? And red was an especially noticeable colour to Vampires. She wished she could do something to help *this* moron, but after spending weeks with these Vampires she knew better than to show affection towards anyone… or anything. She knew better than to show any emotion at all. It always made things worse. She couldn’t help him now, no one could. Directing her gaze back towards Wesley as he stepped closer, crowding her, she fought to keep her expression uncaring.

“So, perhaps you could tell me what went wrong with the spell?” Wesley asked, his sarcasm making it obvious that he already knew the answer. “Everyone on the council is supposed to have forgotten about that pathetic Slayer, Buffy.” –He yanked the brunette over to him- “My little darling here was supposed to be who they thought was Slaying. Buffy is history!” Kicking the cowed young man he said, “But this one was looking for *her*… I grabbed him only 10 feet from the Slayer’s door.”

10 feet, Tara thought. If only she could have maintained the cloaking spell for a little longer… but Dru had interrupted, demanding she play tea with the dolls. It had broken her concentration. She couldn’t do extra magic near Dru… it took all of her focus just to keep the powerful Vampire from taking mental control over her as she had in the beginning. The memory of the black Magicks that Dru had made her perform chilled her. She had been infected with evil.

Wesley ignored the terrified Watcher and his ‘little darling,’ who was obviously going to make a snack out of the whimpering fool. He focused solely on the witch. “Why did he come to Sunnydale? Head for the true Slayer? A little lapse in your memory spell? Are you weak like our dear Faith proposed?”

The witch paid as much attention to the insult as she had the first time she’d heard it.

Wesley cut directly to threats when she remained mute. He dropped his voice down to a deliberate menace. “Or maybe the spell backfired and you forgot what will happen to you if the Slayer finds out about the prophecy.” He grabbed the witch’s chin, peering into her impassive eyes, trying to see the answer she wouldn’t verbalise. He hated that she could hide her thoughts from him.

They stared.

“Are we playing a game?” Dru’s childish voice broke the tense silence as she entered. She twirled around and clapped her hands. “Oh, I do so like games. What are the rules?”

Swallowing back a sigh of impatience, Wesley didn’t even turn to face his sire. Sometimes he thought that she wasn’t truly insane anymore, restored to both mental and physical health by the demon healer. No longer the Drusilla of legend. He believed instead that she just enjoyed playing at it… she knew she could throw people off balance that way, making them easier to manipulate. That was how she had gotten into the witch’s mind to begin with. But he hadn’t been able to confirm his suspicions.

“Mommy!” his useless darling screeched. God, did she realise how unpleasant her voice sounded at that octave?

The Witch shook off the hand clenching her chin and broke off eye contact, lowering her eyes demurely. Behind the shadow of her lashes hatred sparked. As much as the brunette was obsessed with Dru, Wesley was obsessed with her. It was sickening.

She was fading, unable to stand against the selfish, dark demons imprisoning her much longer. And now that the thoughtless brunette had dropped the limp head of her latest hope… If only he had contacted the Slayer… the Slayer needed to understand her role in all of this… needed to embrace her new strengths.

“Faith, my lovely Childe, are you playing the game too?” Dru asked, cupping the brunette’s adoring face.

“No, mommy. They’re *playing* again. Together, and nobody else’s allowed.” She tried to keep the jealousy out of her voice. Wesley had been her watcher… he was hers… like her older brother. A *wicked* older brother. She smiled as she thought of their happy Vampiric family. But that silly, weak witch had stolen his affections. She stopped smiling.

Wesley suppressed yet another sigh. Faith always changed to a more childlike personality whenever Dru was around. Not that her regular personality was much more mature, just smuttier. More wild child than the sickly sweet child she acted as for her mommy. He was bloody grateful he hadn’t developed the same unseemly devotion to his sire that his former Slayer had. Still, he wouldn’t cross her… not out of any misplaced sense of loyalty, just… a healthy dose of fear and respect. Dru was not to be underestimated.

Dru was annoyed. Her other Childe was ignoring her, once again. She dealt with the distraction. “Well, maybe I can get Wesley to share his toy.” She grabbed the witch’s arm, pulling her away from the simmering gaze of the male Vampire. “You should include your little sister or mommy’s gonna have to punish someone…”

“Your witch is the one who’s playing games behind our backs,” he defended himself. Dru already looked angry… and when she found out about the Slayer being Mated to Spike… Thinking of his convenient scapegoat, he pointed a finger at the witch and accused, “She let a member of the council sneak into Sunnydale… he wasn’t under the spell. And he had the prophecy with him. I barely got to him in time.”

Dru focused on the witch’s silent profile. “Naughty girl.” She looked strangely upon the witch’s lowered head. “What games have you been playing?” Then suddenly she looked away and hummed, seemingly oblivious to Wesley’s impatient glare.

Wesley continued his blame monologue despite Dru’s loud humming. “You were lucky the first time you had the witch cast a memories spell… right after Faith and I disappeared. But, even then, it barely worked. And now, with another one of their members missing, there’s more memories to be *fixed*. Eventually the spell will give under the strain. We can’t have any more mistakes.”

Wesley smirked at the witch, satisfied that he’d managed to put the blame squarely where it belonged. If the little goody two-shoes wanted to play silent games… well then, she couldn’t talk her way out of this one, could she? Maybe if he could get her alone he’d be able to get those lips to open… as long as Dru wasn’t watching. But, so far she’d watched very closely.

“Buzzing bees, stinging, annoying… but I’m not allergic. I just swat them out of the air… squash them under my boots.” Dru stomped on the dead council man’s hand, crunching bones.

Wesley sighed, yet again… who knew if Dru was really following their conversation. She was still stomping about, encouraging her youngest Childe to stomp on pretend bees also. “It’s not the sting you have to worry about,” he said, trying to follow her metaphor, “all it will take is for one little bee to tell the queen bee… then all sorts of annoying…”

He broke off the awkward explanation. “Oh, for god’s sake, forget the bloody bees. If the council members regain their memories and contact the Slayer, they’ll tell her about the prophecy and her powers. Then she’s going to come running with something wooden, which, in case you’ve forgotten, you are allergic to. Deathly allergic!”

Dru growled in response, warning Wesley that his tone and words were going too far.

The witch couldn’t hold back the words that came out of her mouth next… too many times over the last few weeks she’d bitten her tongue. And she’d had enough of Wesley’s veiled threats… it was nice to see him at the receiving end of some intimidation. “Oh my, a vulgar phrase. Has something upset you?” she taunted softly, chastising the Vampire quietly so only he could hear.

Wesley whipped his gaze back to the impudent witch. She’d finally decided to break her silence with him and those were her words? How dare she speak to him that way?

Tara’s eyes sparkled with a little hope. Wesley was quite distressed. Normally he was careful to mask his impatience with indifferent politeness but he’d lost control and spoken hastily to Dru. That was his weakness. When he lost his tightly held control over his emotions… that was when he made mistakes. Mistakes that she could take advantage of. .

Wesley grabbed the witch’s arm and yanked her beside him. Looking at Dru he said, “She’s warning them. Faith was kind enough to torture the Watcher into admitting it. The witch sent him a dream about the original Slayer and the prophecy. Lucky for us, the spell still worked over the rest of the council and he wasn’t able to convince any others that his dreams were prophetic.”

Darn it, the witch thought, that was probably why the Watcher had rushed to Sunnydale alone, in a moronic but brave attempt. Giving Wesley a sideways glare she covertly muttered, “Weren’t strong enough to torture him yourself? Tell me; did junior laugh at your attempts? Did you resort to using Faith’s brute strength to make up for your impotence, er, weakness?”

Wesley tried to ignore Dru’s inquiring stare, clenching his hands into fists instead of responding to the witch’s private insults. Still, he couldn’t keep the anger from his face.

The witch smirked at his expression. Hmm… so although silence annoyed him, it was really comments on his *inadequacies* that made him lose control. That was his trigger…She would have to pull it again, to distract him, and while he was distracted, she’d try to contact the council once more. Perhaps she could even attempt to reach more than one council member at a time, so if one failed… But, that would be very risky. The kind of power that took would increase the possibility of exposure.

Dru looked at first Tara and then Wesley. She was annoyed. “Well, it sounds as if you have been a very busy little bee…” she said. Ah, now she had the witch’s full attention. She grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her close. Whispering directly into her ear she said, “Silly little bee. I’ve got you trapped in my glass jar. But still you think you can fly away.” She chuckled, unpleasantly.

The witch was getting tired of being yanked around. She ignored Dru’s thinly veiled threat. After the last few weeks it was going to take more than that to scare her. Anyway, Dru needed her to maintain the memory spell over the council and to keep the demons happily hunting the Slayer. No witch to provide a reward… no demons to bring in the Slayer’s head. Not that the headhunting was going well. She allowed herself an inner smile.

Faith was tired of being ignored. Just because she acted more like a child around Dru, everyone assumed that she was as ignorant as one. Especially Wesley. Determined to teach them all a lesson, she decided to drop the bomb. The dead Watcher was going to be yesterday’s news…

“Mommy!” Faith waited for Dru to face her again.

Wesley could see the fiendish glow of his treacherous darling’s eyes. She knew something. And worse, she was about to tell all of them. He’d no doubt that this was her idea of revenge. She did hate it when he spent time with the witch. Possessive little bitch.

Grinning, Faith asked, “Could you tell me what it means to be Mated? Last night one of Wesley’s minions told me that the Slayer was Mated to Spike. Does this mean he isn’t *yours* anymore?” She paused and placed her hand innocently over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot… Wesley wanted it to be a secret.”

What a wicked, wily little brat, the witch thought. She reassessed her earlier judgement of Faith. The brunette could be a threat, if provoked.

Dru uttered one word: “No!” It spoke volumes.

He was going to kill whatever minion had opened his mouth to Faith. This was going to cost him. He’d been able to placate Dru over the whole Watcher business but now she knew the events of the prophecy were unfolding… and quickly…

Dru released her hold on the witch and grabbed Wesley around the throat. She slammed him into the crypt wall, easily overwhelming his initial struggle with her strength.

Faith smiled. Now this was much more fun. What little sis didn’t like seeing her brother get in trouble after she tattled?

“Mated? You let them Mate?” Dru screamed, incensed.

Wesley figured that this wasn’t the time to point out he hadn’t *let* anything happen. If Dru hadn’t started with the whole stupid curse to begin with, practically shoving those two together for the sake of her vengeance… Guess he wasn’t the only one with a convenient scapegoat. Thankfully he did have one little gift that might mollify Dru’s anger.

“My pocket,” he squeaked.

Dru held Wesley against the wall one handed while she dug into his pocket. Her long nails scratched his skin through his pants, deliberately inflicting pain. When she pulled out an ugly twisted stick with bits of blonde hair tied around it, she gave the Vamp she had pinned an unimpressed look.

“It’s a charm,” Wesley explained. This could get him out of the mess Faith had created for him. Good thing he’d kept that wonderfully malevolent piece of Magicks away from the witch’s eyes. She might have destroyed it if she’d seen it earlier, but now it was too late. She wouldn’t dare attempt a stunt like that in front of Dru.

“It’s ugly,” Dru commented. Her tone revealing her displeasure all too well.

“It’ll make Buffy helpless… take away her Slayer strength. When she touches it, willingly, her powers will be bound to it, temporarily. Should last at least 10 minutes.”

Dru suddenly eyed the ugly little charm with a bit more interest. Releasing Wesley and handing it back to him, she said, “That should be 9 and a half more minutes than you’ll need.” She pointed to Faith and said, “You’ll go with him. Now. And this time don’t even think about trying to make the Slayer your playmate.”

Faith inwardly pouted. Dru knew everything that happened. Eventually. It would have been nice to have a sister, equal to her in strength. She so wanted one, however, she only mumbled, “Yes mommy.”

Satisfied that she had gotten her Childler back under control, Dru reverted back to her normal persona, as if nothing had changed. Humming the same tune she had before, she motioned for the witch to follow her into the next room, dismissing her Childler.

The witch brushed past Wesley as she followed Dru. He’d obviously gained control back over his emotions and that, combined with the charm, would spell trouble for the Slayer when he went after her. She slyly whispered into his ear as she passed, “Buzz, buzz.” Just a little nudge…

He never noticed her brief touch on the charm.
 

Chapter 26: The chance of being seen is equal to how stupid you’ll look if caught

Sweet Pea,

Don’t let that little twit of Xander’s bother you. I’m sure the boy was just trying to show you how cool he thought you were by offering to let you pet his snake. He only laughed at you because… well, that’s what we guys do. We’re all prats, sweet. But we’re not as tough as we say we are. Girls are powerful too. For example, luv, it just takes your aunt Buffy’s tears to bring me to my knees…

Thud… Thud…

She felt her heart thump against her chest. The predator behind her would hear it… would track her through its telltale beats. Drawing her tiny red jacket around her body, she made an ineffective attempt to muffle the revealing noise.

Thud… Thud…

He was gaining on her. She would catch glimpses of his form altering the play of the shadows behind her. Not because he accidentally stepped out of hiding, no, he was letting her see him. Intimidating her with brief flashes of him, getting closer and closer… Too close! She ran.

Thud… Thud…

Now her pounding feet revealed her position, noise from the racing beat of her heart no longer mattered as she sped noisily through the graveyard. She weaved around the headstones, looking back to catch another glimpse of her pursuer. He was moving quickly too, still shifting between shadows and light. Then he called out to her:

“Run, little red riding hood… run fast… or the Big Bad Wolf’s gonna get you.”

She ran. Her red, hooded jacket flapped open, letting the cool night air sweep across her sweaty skin. His footsteps hammered the ground only seconds behind hers.

Thud… Smack…

“Oomph,” Buffy complained from under Spike’s larger frame. He had her pinned face forward over a gravestone.

Spike ignored Buffy’s complaints and whispered into her hair, “I’m gonna eat you all up, little red.” He proceeded to make good with his threat, nibbling the edge of one ear.

Buffy’s moan turned into a squeak of surprise as Spike Vamped and let one fang glide along her neck, close to his mark. She wiggled more, getting him to lift up a bit so she could turn around and face him. “Oh, what big teeth you have, Mr. Wolf,” she said, touching one gleaming fang with a fingertip. “So pointy, Mr. Wolf…”

Spike gave her salacious look, curling his tongue up to touch one fang. “All the better to eat you with, pet.” Pausing he added, “Or, if you’d rather I begin with my tongue…”

Buffy gave herself a moment to absorb his delicious words before replying, “Hmm… teeth are just fine… used properly. Tell me, Mr. Wolf, do you…” Buffy trailed off, stiffening into silence. She could smell cheap perfume polluting the air. Voice serious now, she whispered, “Spike? I think we have company.” Despite the sense of danger, Buffy felt her cheeks flush bright red at the thought of someone catching them acting out fairy tales. Adult fairy tales.

Spike moved closer to Buffy, shielding her from sight. He couldn’t sense any Vamps but he trusted her instincts implicitly. Whispering into her ear he asked her, “Do you have any stakes?”

She nodded, grabbing a stake from her pocket and scanning the left side of the graveyard. By wordless agreement Spike checked the right side. Her senses were tingling but it was nothing more than what she normally felt when Spike was this close to her… background noise. Still, she could smell the perfume, and only a Vampire would think that outdated scent was in.

Squinting, Spike could make out a lone figure slowly approaching. He didn’t like the figure’s cocky swagger. Everyone in this town knew the Slayer, and even if they didn’t they certainly would have sensed Spike’s strength. This could only mean trouble.

Spike stepped in front of Buffy, his body language telling her on no uncertain terms that she was to stay behind his protective presence. Not that the impulsive woman would stay back there once a fight broke out but at least he could take the brunt of the first assault this way.

Buffy sniffed the air again. She could see someone approaching, likely a Vamp … but that didn’t seem to be where the scent of perfume was coming from. The perfume wafted more strongly from… behind them! Pivoting around, she caught sight of a dark head ducking behind the nearest crypt. Buffy realised this wasn’t just some casual blunder, a Vamp running into her while out getting a meal. This was a planned attack.

Spike felt Buffy turn around behind him but he kept focused on the Vamp in front. He recognized him now; it was the overdressed Vampire that had attacked Buffy at her mum’s gala… Wesley! The pompous buffoon was still dressed up in a tux, strolling through the graveyard like it was a grand ballroom and he was on display. He couldn’t wait to muck up the peacock’s perfect clothing.

Taking a step back towards Buffy, Spike smelled a strange perfume… a very faint flowery scent. It was so faint that he hadn’t picked up on it earlier. When he spared a quick glance back at Buffy, he noticed that she had already picked up on their flanking attacker.

Feeling anticipation thrum through her body, Buffy crouched down a little and gripped her stake more tightly. She was worried, but the chance to fight side-by-side with Spike again had her pumped. They were both powerful, dangerous creatures that few would dare to attack… this rare opportunity promised to afford them some fun.

Spike stared at Buffy in awe for a moment longer. She was balanced on the balls of her feet, a sleek, coiled predator prepared to strike. And her face showed… eagerness. He felt a smile play over his lips as her frank appreciation of the fight dawned on him. He loved how confidently she approached each fight, the way she relied on her instincts as much as her training. Biting his bottom lip decisively, he stepped towards Wesley. He’d leave the poor fool sneaking up from behind to Buffy’s capable hands. Too bad he’d be too busy to watch her deal out some dusty lessons.

Buffy spared a quick glance towards the male Vampire, recognizing Wesley immediately, and then focused solely on the flanking attack. There was something that niggled her about the hidden adversary.

“So sorry to have interrupted your game. It was just getting interesting,” Wesley said, oozing politeness.

Spike whipped his gaze back to Wesley as he spoke. He replied with the same mocked civility that the Vamp had employed in his apology. “Sorry, mate. The Slayer doesn’t like an audience. But if you toddle on over here, I’ll show you another game we can play.”

Wesley picked up his pace, only 12 feet away now. “What are the rules?”

Buffy immediately responded. “No hair pulling.”

Wesley chuckled… patting his coat pocket. “I couldn’t resist taking a souvenir…” He gave Spike a smug look and pulled one golden strand out of his pocket.

Spike didn’t dignify the challenge with a verbal reply. He threw the stake Buffy had given him onto the ground and prowled towards the big-mouthed Vampire, quickly closing the distance between them. He couldn’t dust this one fast enough, anxious to feel Wesley’s neck snap between his hands. If Buffy hadn’t thrown herself into his arms last night, he’d have taken care of this already.

Buffy stalked down her own quarry as Spike took off towards Wesley. How dare they interrupt her and Spike’s… playtime? She felt her cheeks flame again at the thought of being spied on.

The brunette Vampire that had attacked her at the motel slid into view from behind the crypt. “Oh, look, little red riding hood is red in more than one way. What’s wrong, sis? You put on such a good show.”

“Really?” Buffy said, trying to calm her blush and sound nonchalant. She wouldn’t let this slut see her squirm. “You should see the after show then. It’s a killer.” Giving the brunette Vamp a once over, Buffy saw that she was dressed as scandalously as last time. Did they even call it a shirt when a bra gave more coverage?

Spike stopped in his tracks as he heard a familiar female voice taunting Buffy. Fuck! It was- he was stopped from completing that thought when Wesley lunged at him.

The grunts of the two men as they smacked violently into each other told Buffy that Spike had already begun his fight. She dropped to the ground and rolled away as the brunette reached for her. Great, so this was their plan… distract Spike and leave the super-powered bitch free to play with her. Original. Still, Buffy could remember the aches from being slammed into the motel wall the first time… she didn’t want a repeat performance against the crypt wall next to them. That meant she’d have to stake the brunette fast, and stay out of her hands.

Jumping up, Buffy stared in shock as the brunette ignored her and ran towards Spike. She had a stake in her hand.

Spike held Wesley helpless, one hand wrapped tightly around his throat. He was going to enjoy this. Problem was, how come there wasn’t any fear in the bloke’s eyes? In fact, the Vampire almost looked gleeful…

“Spike! Behind you!” Buffy shouted, racing to catch up with the brunette.

Spike tensed as Buffy shouted the warning. Dropping Wesley, he turned just in time to catch the brunette’s wrist. She was only inches from staking him. But the brunette’s wrist only paused momentarily in its descent… arms trembled as he tried to keep the stake from reaching his chest. The brunette was easily overpowering him.

“I’ll take that,” Buffy yelled, reaching over and grabbing the stake out of the brunette’s hand with a firm yank. Only later on would she reflect that it had been much too easy.

Spike watched as the stake Buffy had grabbed glowed white hot in her hand. She dropped the still glowing stake to the ground, and then followed it down herself, in a half faint.

“Uh, oh… looks like little red riding hood is all tuckered out,” the brunette commented, giving Buffy’s body a kick. She smirked at Spike’s growl, yanking her wrist out of his grip. She’d accomplished her task.

Buffy held back her groan as the Brunette’s kick cracked a rib. It wasn’t the first time she’d broken something on patrol but the pain seemed so much more intense this time. She saw Wesley rub his throat and stand up behind Spike. Ignoring the still glowing stake beside her, she leaped up from the ground to take him down before he could touch Spike.

Mid-air, she figured out that something was seriously wrong.

She felt her rib fully break as she slammed into Wesley. The Vampire didn’t fall down from the impact; he just twisted and let her slide past him. Her hands burned across the grass as she slammed into the ground; the impact sent her breath rushing from her lungs, leaving her gasping in shock and pain. What the hell was happening? She felt… powerless? Wesley had swatted her aside with as much effort as he’d swat a fly.

Spike watched Buffy collide with the ground for the second time that night. Those bastards had done something to her… He reached out and grabbed Wesley, who was eyeing Buffy with hunger, baring elongated fangs. The daft prat couldn’t honestly think Spike was just going to stand there and let him get a taste of her sweet blood.

Faith ignored Wesley’s shout for assistance as Spike yanked him off his feet and tossed him head first into the nearest head stone. She still hadn’t forgiven his earlier behaviour; besides, mommy had made it very clear that the Slayer was their target. Spike would dust as soon as she decapitated the Slayer anyway. Wesley could play with the bleached troublemaker.

Spike turned towards the female Vamp after he tossed the other wanker. She was already heading towards Buffy, totally ignoring his presence. It irked him that she thought he was of such little significance that he presented no danger to her. That one had a serious ego problem. Ignoring the inner voice that said ‘with her strength it didn’t really matter’, he rushed after her.

Wesley scraped himself off of the gravestone and headed back towards the melee. His darling would only need 30 seconds with the incapacitated Slayer to end this. He intended on making sure she had them.

Spike growled as he was yanked from behind… he’d almost had the brunette in his grasp. “Looking for more, mate?” he asked, swinging a fist toward the interfering Vamp’s too perfect nose. It crunched satisfyingly.

Buffy cradled her sore ribs, wheezing shallow breaths as the waves of pain constricted her lungs. She knew that the longer she laid there, the greater the danger, so despite the pain she grabbed at a gravestone and tried to pull herself up.

“Oh, dear… that looks painful… let me give you a hand,” the brunette said. She reached down and yanked Buffy off of the ground by the collar of her shirt. But she didn’t want to snap the Slayer’s neck just yet. It seemed like such a waste… Buffy would have made the perfect sister…

“Faith, you stupid twit, stop trying to think and just kill her,” Wesley ordered, placing a hand over his bleeding nose. He ducked Spike’s next punch, learning quickly.

Buffy observed the annoyance that flashed over Faith’s features… so the brunette Vampire didn’t like Wesley’s condescending attitude? Seemed like there was room to cause trouble there. Noting the discord, she used the one part of her body that wasn’t screaming with pain… it had worked last time.

Faith dropped Buffy, mostly in shock not pain, as the bitch bit her shoulder. You would think the Slayer was already Turned the way she sank her teeth vigorously into Faith’s skin. Must be Spike’s influence.

Oh God, her ribs were definitely broken… Sucking in a fiery breath, Buffy began to crawl towards the faintly glowing stake still lying on the ground.

“Biting? Crawling on all fours? Guess your true characteristics are coming out, bitch!” Faith said. She looked down at Buffy with derision, kicking her under the ribs and sending her sailing through the air.

Spike blocked another punch from Wesley as Faith kicked Buffy viciously. He was having difficulty getting the upper hand this time and suspected the only reason he’d beaten Wesley at first was because he’d been allowed to. They’d used him to set Buffy up. Frustrated, he continued to try and fight his way past Wesley to reach his struggling Mate.

It was as if her ribs had been kicked all the way to her spine, but at least she was near the stake now. It was glowing so dimly now that Buffy had trouble spotting it amongst the long grass. As soon as her fingers curled around the wood, Faith grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her around.

Spike felt momentarily paralyzed by fear as he watched Faith grab his helpless Mate with murder in her eyes. That lethal look was all the impetus Spike needed to move just a little bit faster. Wesley probably never even saw what hit him, as he went flying back into another headstone. Spike tore across the graveyard, rushing to intercept Faith before she could snap Buffy’s neck.

“I’m tired of playing games with you,” Faith whined. “Say ‘goodnight’, Bitch.”

“Goodnight, bitch,” Buffy repeated, feeling her power return as the stake in her hand flickered and stopped glowing entirely.

Faith said, shocked, “It’s too soon.” But she wasn’t able to defend herself in time as Buffy slammed the stake home in her chest. It was only due to Spike grabbing Faith and ripping her away from his Mate that the stake hadn’t embedded into her heart. He’d been trying to get her away from Buffy and hadn’t seen the stake yet.

Wesley shouted Faith’s name, trying to motivate her to move. Her eyes rounded with fear as she stared at the stake, petrified by how close she’d come to dusting. She didn’t shake free of her trance until Wesley yanked her onto her feet, ripping the stake out of her chest and tossing it.

Spike stood only feet away from the two Vampires. He wanted to rush forward and tear them apart with his bare hands… eliminate the threat to Buffy permanently, despite the improbability of him surviving a lone encounter against the two of them. Instead, he watched them take off and turned back to his Slayer. Buffy needed him more then he needed to extract vengeance.

Buffy moaned, awash in pain, as Spike dropped down to his knees and lifted her into his arms. Her lungs rattled as she breathed, refusing to inflate properly even though she continued to suck burning breaths in. This was so bad, so bad. And she was scared. How could anyone survive this; surely so much pain signalled death?

“Shhh, baby. Oh, luv… no, don’t cry.” Spike used one hand to wipe the tears wetting her cheeks. “It’s gonna be okay.” He cringed when she whimpered with pain as he touched her ribs. Christ, she was a mess… broken and bleeding. He could barely comfort her, the words strangling in his throat. Swallowing thickly, he managed to whisper, “I’ll make you better, pet… take the pain away.”

“Not… pain,” Buffy said. “Dying… I… I don’t… want to die.” Her eyes shone with mortal fear.

Spike almost cried himself at hearing her broken words. His proud, brave Slayer, reduced to tears, not from pain, but the fear that had been forced upon her. He pushed himself to be strong for her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the Gracianna powder, blessing the witch under his breath. “Here, luv,” he said, fumbling with the precious bag of magic in his haste.

Buffy opened her mouth as Spike’s trembling hand held a generous pinch of the powder above her lips. How could such simple thing fix her? Nonetheless she caught the tasteless powder on her tongue and prayed for the Magicks to ease the pain.

Spike watched with panic as Buffy’s laboured breathing continued. The rattling sound of her lungs echoed in his ears, a death knell he’d heard too often before. Not enough… he hadn’t given her enough powder. This was the Slayer, not some normal, mewling human. She needed more. He forced her mouth open wider and dumped powder in. Shit. Too much! She couldn’t swallow it… she was choking. Despite her cry of pain he yanked her up further in his arms, willing gravity to fix what he’d fucked up. He was wild with fear, tears running down his face unchecked as he tried to get Buffy to swallow the lump of powder down.

Buffy whimpered in relief as the dry powder squeezed down, unclogging her tortured throat. Spike had eased his grip somewhat when she managed to swallow. He held her cradled against his chest, her cheek next to where his heart once beat. She knew that his whispered words were meant to comfort her, but as her lungs kept on fighting her efforts to take in air, she realized that the words were just that… comfort, not truth. She was going to die.

Oh God, Spike screamed silently, cursing and entreating an entity he’d almost forgotten. The powder was supposed to work instantly. Hadn’t the salesman practically leaped to his feet once he’d had some? This couldn’t be happening… there was no way that such an injustice like this could occur. Buffy saved the world… she deserved to be healed more than some wanker salesman. But Spike remembered the witch’s words… the powder would only heal those wounds that wouldn’t have naturally been fatal on their own. Fatal. Buffy… his Slayer… his Mate… was dying.

“No,” Spike screamed, shocking Buffy’s pain-closed eyes open. His demon refused to let go of her… to give up. The demon shoved the man’s pain aside and took over. Ripping into his wrist with his fangs, Spike opened his veins to let his powerful blood out. He shoved his wrist against Buffy’s mouth, demanding she drink. Heedless of the copious amounts of blood he was losing through the brutal wound, he tipped Buffy’s head back slightly and entreated her to drink more. He’d let her drain him dry if it was required. Instinctively, he attempted to transfer his demon strength to her.

Buffy sucked weakly at the blood. She couldn’t breathe with Spike’s wrist mashed against her mouth like that, but it didn’t really matter… she couldn’t breath, period. However, her body wouldn’t allow that. It forced her to protest… sucked air harshly into her lungs around Spike’s wrist, sucking a good deal of blood in also. She choked on the fluid instantly. Choked, as her lungs heaved the blood out.

Spike loosened his grip on Buffy, taking his wrist away from her mouth as she violently choked. After a few dry heaves she settled into a spate of coughing. He’d never been so happy to see anyone cough in his life. She was breathing! Not properly, but her lungs were working, powerfully expelling air. She no longer feebly wheezed. Then the sweetest sound he’d ever heard… Buffy croaked his name.

“Spike,” Buffy said, trying to force his name thru her dry throat again.

“Shhh… luv. Don’t try and speak yet,” he told her. He held onto her while her body healed. The broken bones dissolving as the new bones knitted. The bruises disappearing and her lungs, oh, her wonderful lungs, filling with precious air. She drooped in his arms as the healing process neared its conclusion… the Gracianna powder he’d forced down her throat extracting its price for her remarkably quick repair.

Buffy whispered Spike’s name once more, her throat now nearly healed. She felt him lift her into his strong arms and carry her out of the graveyard. She trustingly wrapped her arms around him.

As she fell under the powder-induced sleep, she momentarily reflected on all those times she had fought Spike, and how in the end, it had just taken her tears to bring him to his knees.

Hey, Impetuous is up for the reader's choice at Vampire Kisses awards. Please, oh, pretty please, go vote for me: Go Vote.

Chapter 27: Whenever you’re late, everyone else is 5 minutes early

Sweet Pea,

Did you and Willow have fun searching though your attic? All sorts of neat things up there, I suppose, since that’s where your grandparents stored all the Sunnydale stuff. But that book you found, the one with the torn pages and a dent in the hard cover? Do me a favour and keep that away from your Grandma!

“Stop.”

Spike halted at Buffy’s whispered request. Shifting her in his arms so he could peer down at her sleepy face, he said, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

“It’s morning?” Buffy squeaked, opening her eyes fully. She gave Spike a stake worthy glare when she realised he’d just been using a cliché. But the weakness still affecting her body prevented her from coming up with an appropriate comeback. At least, that is what she told herself. Instead of verbal sparage she just stuck her tongue out in addition to the glare.

Spike laughed. “Oh, luv. How sweet. You’re injured, but still you go out of your way to amuse me.”

That was it. Buffy tried to wiggle out of Spike’s hold, letting out a growl of frustration when her efforts only made him chuckle harder.

“Let. Me. Down!” When he kept on ignoring her request, tightening his grip on her squirming body, she did the one thing guaranteed to get his attention.

“Ow! Slayer. I’m shocked.” He watched as Buffy lightly growled again, showing the sharp little teeth she’d sunk into his chest.

“Let me down now, Spike,” she grumped, in no mood for his sense of humour.

“Now, luv, we’re gonna have to wait at least a day for you to rest before we can play those games. I can wait, I’m not a selfish man.”

Buffy mumbled some games under her breath that they could play. All of them involved something wooden. “Spike, be serious. Just let me down. I don’t want to be carried anymore. I’m fine.”

“Oh, famous words, from you. Everyone knows what that means. Giles let me see this little dictionary yesterday…”

“What dictionary?” It sounded like a Giles-y thing to her, but for Spike to like it? And from his tone, Spike had liked it a lot. Something wasn’t right…

“Never mind. Now, stop wiggling. Another minute and we’ll be there.”

Realizing how close they were to the library, Buffy renewed her efforts to get loose. “Spike, you can’t carry me in there. What will my mom think? I’m warning you, she’s gonna stake first and ask questions later.”

“I think I can defend myself, besides, she’d wouldn’t want to get dust all over your pretty red jacket.”

Why wouldn’t Spike be serious? His snark was something she’d gotten use to, but this… this was excessive. She’d just been tossed all over the graveyard like a Raggedy Ann doll, nearly died as a result, and now he was acting like…

Buffy’s thoughts halted as she found herself caught in his concerned gaze. No humour danced in their blue depths… they shouted pain and anguish. He’d quickly looked away when she met his eyes, but it was too late. She’d unmasked him.

“Spike,” she entreated.

He tried to say something snarky. Hell, even something as lame as Xander’s jokes, but it wouldn’t come out. Stopping for a moment, but still holding her tightly, he said, “Buffy, you are not fine. I almost lost you...”

“I’m here,” she reminded him. “You never let go.” Then in an almost voiceless whisper she said, “You saved me.”

Oh, damn. He’d been trying to avoid this. As if the ponce needed to see him sniffling like a whipped puppy. He tried to think of another joke. Anything to stop Buffy and the scoobies from seeing inside of him.

“Please, Spike, let me down. I need to walk into there. For me.”

Spike knew that the Vampires had done so much more than just taking her powers. They had stolen her confidence… her pride. He flashed to her lying broken in his arms. That moment had taken so much from her and she just wanted to take it back. Walking into the library to meet the scoobies was her way of saying they hadn’t beaten her. She deserved that.

Buffy wobbled as Spike lowered her to stand next to the library entrance. She was much weaker now then she’d felt in Spike’s arms. Of course, she always felt stronger around him… his presence fed her strength.

Spike had to check himself when his hands automatically reached out to steady her. She needed to do this on her own. Standing back only as much as necessary, he watched her push the doors wide open and followed her in.

It was a hell of an entrance. Jaws dropped, rendering the room instantly silent.

“Buffy,” Joyce finally said. Then, “you’re late.”

Uh, oh. That didn’t sound like the joyful reception Spike had thought would accompany their grand entrance. In fact, it sounded like there was something else that had made the room so quiet on their arrival.

Buffy smiled up at her mom, trying to concentrate on not falling down. She’d overestimated her strength considerably. Leaning back against the library checkout counter, she tried for a casual, “Hi mom.” From her mom’s face, casual hadn’t been a good choice.

“Buffy!” Giles added, giving her a parental stare.

Great, Buffy thought… and he wasn’t even married to her mother yet.

“We’ve already been over that, Mate,” Spike said, trying to draw attention away from Buffy. He could tell she was tiring quick. She certainly didn’t need to stand there and listen to a lecture.

“Where were you, Buffy? You were supposed to come straight here after cleaning up the gallery.”

Xander interrupted. “Gee, twigs in your hair… grass stains on your knees…”

“Xander, do be quiet,” Giles ordered. “Now, Spike, perhaps you could explain.”

Willow squeezed Xander’s hand reassuringly, but she looked worried as both Giles and Joyce turned their accusatory stares onto Spike. Poor Vamp. They were going to dust him with words alone. Although it really had been too bad of them to come to the library looking like… that.

Buffy felt a bit better now that she had the counter to lean against. Still, she felt relieved when Spike winked at her, letting her know he could handle this.

Joyce spoke next, still fired up about her discovery of *the* book earlier. “Don’t tell me … let me guess, Spike. Another Vampire attacked you two… in the graveyard, alone.”

Spike nodded and opened his mouth to explain. However, Joyce thumping a book rather loudly on the table in front of him gave him pause. If the innocent little book was getting it, what was he in for?

“And this evil Vampire had the same urge to rip your shirt?” Even Xander picked up on the sarcasm.

Spike looked down at the tear in his shirt, momentarily baffled. Then he remembered.

The tension was broken by Buffy’s laughter.

“Oh, it’s bloody hilarious, luv. See what happens when you cry Wolf? Now you mum thinks the worst of me.” Not that he cared. He was glad to hear her laugh. It helped her push back the blackness that had tried to steal her away from him. He’d have to give Joyce a hug to thank her later.

Buffy decided not to point out that Spike had been doing everything her mom suspected and worse, before they left the art gallery. False protestations of innocence! She realized they needed to get serious and tell everyone what had really happened. She wiped away the last of the tears her laughter had squeezed out and stepped forward to sit down with the scoobies.

Spike just reached Buffy in time to catch her fainting body.

This time the scoobies didn’t watch them in shock. They rushed forward en masse, crowding Spike as he cradled Buffy in his arms.

“Back up,” Spike gruffly ordered. The powder must still have a hold on her… she’d just been playing up her strength for the benefit of all the rest of them. “Stubborn Slayer,” he whispered for her ears alone.

Buffy chocked a little… but the sound headed straight to his own lungs. He couldn’t breath... his chest tightened in a panicked second. Then he remembered… Vamp; don’t need to breath, you stupid ponce. “Back off,” Spike shouted, much louder this time. He pushed Xander out of the way and dragged Buffy back with him a bit.

“Spike, what…” Giles sputtered, shocked.

“She needs air. She can’t breathe.” He rubbed her throat gently, murmuring, “Breath, luv.”

Joyce approached the alarmed Vampire holding her daughter. “Spike,” she said, touching his shoulder tentatively. “She’s breathing.”

Spike heard the air rhythmically enter and exit Buffy’s lungs. Relief flooded him for a moment before reality came crashing down. He’d just made a bloody fool of himself. Looking up, he saw Xander staring at him with… well, he was staring. And Willow, she had to be giving him a look of pity… because there’s no way she’d…

“Spike, if you’ll let me, I’d like to see her.” Giles kneeled next to Joyce, reaching over to touch Buffy’s cheek. “What happened?” he asked Spike, his voice full of concern and none of the anger from before.

“We were set up… attacked. Two of Dru’s Vamps, the one that pretended to be a maid before and the one from the art gallery gala.”

“What Vamp from the art gallery gala,” Joyce asked, upset.

Willow answered, “Um, I think he means that Wesley guy… I knew something was weird about him. But Buffy handled it, I thought…”

“She almost dusted him,” Spike admitted, proud. “If she’d had a stake…” Brushing a bit of her hair that had fallen forward on her face he said, “But the coward ran off.”

Giles gave Spike a look that told him they’d have a talk about his later. It made Spike feel as young as the human he’d once been, called onto the carpet by an elder family member.

Xander cleared his throat and pointed to Buffy. “Shouldn’t we be taking her to the hospital?” He stared at the unconscious body of his best friend, shaken.

Spike answered. “No, I gave her a special powder from the witch. It’s healed her injuries… she just needs to rest now. Nothing the hospital could do, unless they’re willing to use iron restraints?”

Giles nodded his assent, trusting the Vampire had his Mate’s best interests at heart. Spike seemed very sincere in his concern for Buffy’s well being. In fact, it had shocked Giles to see just how upset Spike got when she fainted… but is also reassured him that Spike wouldn’t do anything to harm her.

The rest of the scoobies didn’t seem so convinced. It was a shock to see Buffy, usually so vibrant, lying pale and still in Spike’s arms. Joyce was the one to voice their doubts. “Rupert, I’d rather we did take Buffy to the hospital. God knows what injuries she got when fighting.” Looking at Giles she revealed her greatest fear. “I’m so afraid of losing her again.”

“She’s going to be ok, mum,” Spike said. He took one hand off of Buffy to grasp Joyce’s. It was colder then his own… as if fear for her daughter had sucked the energy and warmth right out of her. He wished Buffy could wake up and restore her mother back to normal. He’d even go back to drinking Joyce’s hot chocolate minus marshmallows.

Willow was among the wary, but, ever practical, she suggested, “Spike, do you think we could move her somewhere more comfortable? You said she has to rest…”

Xander rushed to the table and removed the books left there. Taking off his jacket and laying it out, he motioned for Spike to lay Buffy down.

Spike mumbled thanks and lowered his Mate down onto the soft jacket. He turned to face the scoobies. He knew they deserved a full explanation. It would have driven him mad to see her in this condition and not know why.

“If you’ll all take a seat, I’ll tell you what happened.” Spike remained standing while the others sat down, determining where he’d start. Looking at Buffy’s red hooded jacket, wrapped tightly around her body to keep her warm, he thought, start anywhere but *there*.

God, he was such a stupid wanker.

Spike realized this as he stared at the faces of the expectant scoobies. It was the first time he’d heard the group of them so quiet. And he’d volunteered to fill in the silence. There was no way this could go well for him. But, like a binge eater who’d just opened a box of cookies, he figured the damage had already been done when he offered so why stop now?

Taking a deep breath, he prepared to talk himself into a whole lot of trouble.

“They attacked us in the graveyard. We fought. They sucked Buffy’s Slayer strength into a glow stick. It worked for a bit, but the stick ran out of batteries. Then Buffy staked the girl… missed her heart. They ran.”

Giles took his glasses off and polished them. “Er, Spike, do you think you could elaborate a bit more?”

“Oh, I think they headed east when they ran off.” When Spike got no response he pointed east.

Joyce spoke, still staring down at her peacefully resting daughter. “More.” Her quiet but firm voice made the word an order that was impossible to refuse.

Spike paced. Looking back at Joyce gently holding Buffy’s limp hand as she slept, he suddenly felt tired of all the lies and omissions. These people, Buffy’s family and friends, were the ones that made her strong. They were the reason she’d survived things that would have killed any other Slayer. And if he wanted his Mate to pull through this latest threat to her life, he needed their help.

“The male Vampire, Wesley, distracted me while the female, Faith, drew Buffy away from me. Faith is the Vampire that attacked us at the hotel, the super-powered one. She attacked me from behind when Buffy wasn’t expecting it… and was going to stake me. I couldn’t have stopped her, not with the kind of strength she has. But Buffy did. She grabbed the stake and that’s when her power got sucked out. It made her faint and the stake began to glow.”

Willow looked thoughtful as Spike described the loss of Buffy’s powers to the stick. But Giles didn’t look at Spike at all.

“With nothing to hold her back Faith really attacked Buffy. Lucky for us, the stake let go of Buffy’s power and Buffy was able to stake Faith. Stupid ponce that I am, I pulled Faith away, thinking I was saving Buffy. All I did was make Buffy miss the heart. Faith and Wesley ran off. And Buffy… Buffy was left really hurt. She couldn’t breath, I think her lung was punctured by broken ribs.”

Joyce looked up at him. “You’ll be sure to point this Faith out to me if we run into her?” It wasn’t really a request.

Spike nodded. He’d point out Faith’s ashes, no problem.

“How bad was she injured?” Giles asked. He looked guilty, as if he felt responsible for her wounds and wanted an accounting to be laid at his feet.

“She nearly died.”

Willow grabbed onto Xander’s arm for support, grateful when he pulled her into a hug and whispered a reminder that Buffy was okay now. She just wasn’t ready to lose Buffy again, so soon.

Giles flinched, as if Spike brusque words had cut into him.

Joyce’s eyes revealed the anger seething within her.

“The powder,” Spike pulled out what was left, tossing the pouch to Giles. “It didn’t work at first.”

“Graciana powder,” Giles said, not even opening the bag. “It only has an effect if the wounds aren’t mortal.” He levelled his gaze on Spike and asked, “How?”

“I performed Ma’alia the first time, when I took her from the diner. It saved her tonight.” He didn’t elaborate on what Ma’alia was for the others. Joyce might stake him as a warm-up before heading out for Faith if she knew what it meant.

But Giles knew. His jaw tightened and the guilt that had been in his eyes banked somewhat as anger at Spike fired up.

Willow interrupted the look exchanged between the two men as she said, “Ma’alia?”

Joyce answered. “He drank her blood. The first time he did it, he must have cast a spell over her, spoke the ancient words Vampires have used for centuries to make their blood children. It allows him to steal her strength whenever he wants. Master Vampires sometimes keep a blood childe to heal their injuries. Of course, the exchange can work both ways. He can give Buffy his strength too, if he chooses to do so.”

Spike gaped, slack jawed, as Joyce calmly explained the ritual to Willow. He took a closer look at the book she had on her lap.

Xander looked as if he was going to throw Willow off his shoulder and stake Spike while he stood, paralyzed by Joyce’s explanation.

“It saved her?” Willow asked.

“Yes,” Spike answered.

Willow tightened her grip on Xander’s hand. “Good.”

Spike’s gaze whipped from Joyce to Willow. Was it possible to dust a Vamp through shock?

Giles sputtered, “Willow… he made her little better than… less than a slave… she had no choice!” He turned back to glare at Spike.

Xander tried to free his hand from Willow’s grip. When had she’d gotten so strong? Or stubborn?

Joyce quietly asked Spike, “Was she a slave?”

“No, I was hers” he answered, almost whispering. Meeting her gaze he said, “I did it at first because the witch had told me it was the only way… sold me on the not having to count the stake marks on my back all the time. Your daughter’s rather hasty to dust a fellow.”

Joyce’s lips harboured a ghost of a smile.

Spike continued. “But the witch didn’t tell me about the bond. The power Buffy held over me through that bond far exceeded what I could take from her, physically. I craved her, needed her… I became desperate to take care of her… would have killed anything that even looked at her wrong.” Quieter, he admitted, “It wasn’t the deal that we made that stopped me from killing humans for blood.” He looked them all in the eye, letting them see that the demon inside him would have gladly murdered without remorse despite his *deal*. “I stopped because she wanted it… anything she wants…”

Xander wasn’t satisfied. “But her power didn’t stop you from taking what you wanted from her, did it?”

For the first time that night Spike threw one of them a threatening look. He waited for Xander to recoil from the restrained violence he emanated before speaking. “You stupid ponce. You’ll never understand what we have.” Striding over to Buffy, he looked down at her and said, “I love her.”

The sound of Joyce dropping her book made everyone jump.

But it was Buffy’s whispered declaration of love in return that truly shocked them.

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