In The Comfort of a Loving Embrace

by Pipergirl

 

 

Summary: (This story follows The Healing Pool and Expanding Her Virtual Horizons--reading those first may help answer some questions, but it isn‘t necessary to do so.) Buffy and Spike escape Sunnydale for a couple of days to deal with new developments in their lives. Aside from the expected Spuffy lovin’, they reach an understanding and a new stage in their relationship.

 

Warning: NC-17 rating. Also--this is a Christmas fic. I know it’s a weird time, what with Spring having sprung (well, in Toronto, anyway) but I started writing this way back in November and I like it enough to post it anyway. To anyone who has a problem with this: um... nyah!

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, no matter how many prayers I send up to the Powers That Be...

 

(This story has been posted un-beta’d. If I get it back from my beta with any major changes, I’ll tweak it where necessary. And thanks to Keely for her help on this :)

 

 


In The Comfort of a Loving Embrace

 

 

“Here’s to two whole weeks without having to look at Snyder’s troll-like face.”

 

Buffy and Willow laughed at Xander’s toast, but couldn’t help but agree with their friend. “Hear, hear!”

 

“So, guys, what are your plans for the holidays?” Buffy leaned back in her seat and took a sip of her mocktail (the closest she could come to drinking alcohol--stupid laws...). She herself was planning on enjoying quiet holidays, with as little deviation from the norm as possible: lots of eating, even more gift opening, and minimal slaying.

 

“Uh, I plan on sneaking some food to the basement and trying to pretend that I don’t really live at home. You know, Never-Never Land can be a nice place to visit. Just call me Xander Pan.”

 

Xander often joked about his home life, but his friends knew that his parents’ fighting affected the young man more than he led on. He’d stayed over quite a few times at Willow’s house when the fighting was more than he could handle, and with the stress that people usually felt at Christmastime, well... they all knew he wasn’t joking about the hiding and pretending bit.

 

Willow patted the young man’s back affectionately. “That’s ok, Xander. My parents are out of town until the new year--some kind of aboriginal study committee, or something. You can sneak two platefuls and come over to my place.”

 

“Thanks, Wills.” It didn’t matter that they were pretty much adults at this point. Xander appreciated the offer--it would always be as if they were nine years old when it came to his family situation.

 

Buffy smiled at the two best friends, but blinked when a flash of black caught the corner of her eye. She turned around, scanning the main floor, but didn’t see anything out of place. Frowning, she turned back to a heated conversation, the beginning of which she‘d missed. Something about whether Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer should have agreed to join Santa, after being ostracized by the old guy...

 

She caught about two words before she felt a familiar tingling at the newest set of bite marks on her neck. Spike. She looked around again, but this time drew her gaze upwards. Her eyes fell upon his dark shape sitting at one of the tables on the walkway. Was he there for her, or just for a drink? Did he have Drusilla with him?

 

The Slayer’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes met hers for a brief moment before he turned away. He was alone. It had been over three weeks since their ‘meeting’ at the hotel, and she’d been waiting for a word or a sign from him, anything that would get her close to him once again. She knew that this attraction to the master vampire was wrong, but since when did logic have a part in matters of the heart--or of other body parts?

 

“Hello? Earth to Buffy!”

 

“Huh?” Buffy shook her head, turning her attention back to her friends. “Sorry, I... I must’ve zoned.”

 

“That’s ok. Thoughts of sugar plums and turkey do that to me too.” When he saw that his little joke didn’t garner much more than a distracted grin from his friend, Xander hunched his shoulders. Oh well... “I was wondering where Deadboy was. He hasn’t graced us with his broodiness in a couple of weeks now.”

 

The young woman shrugged indifferently. “Don’t know. I haven’t seen him either.” Truth was, she was relieved to put some distance between her and Angel. The whole Angelus threat meant that nothing could ever come of their relationship, so it was for the best if they weren’t constantly around each other--she was also tired of the stress of being close to someone who‘d once been her whole world, but no longer meant that to her. And with Spike now in the picture... well, it was best that the older vamp not be around for that. Although she was sure that he knew full well what had conspired between herself and his childe. His attitude in the days preceding his ‘disappearance’ was cold and distant, as if he were hiding something.

 

Willow and Xander exchanged curious glances. They’d never seen Buffy act this way when Angel was the topic of conversation. She usually got all dreamy-eyed, or really sad, but never indifferent. And what was with all the glances around the club, anyway? Was there someone else in their friend’s life that she hadn’t mentioned yet? Was she waiting to meet this someone?

 

The redhead looked up to where the Slayer’s gaze was set and noticed that there was someone familiar. Someone very, very familiar. And scary, evil, menacing...

 

Buffy couldn’t... Nah, she wouldn’t...

 

“Look, guys. I’m really sorry, but I’m not really in a celebraty kind of mood right now. I... I’m just going to go home. And rest.” Buffy could no longer fight the pull--she had to go up and see the bleached vampire. With a quick nod and a wave, she practically ran away from her table towards the back stairs.

 

Oh, goddess, she is...

 

***

 

Spike didn’t even see the Slayer approach his table until she’d sat down across from him. He couldn’t hide the acerbic tone in his weary voice as he acknowledged her presence. “Come to make my life difficult, too, pet?”

 

Buffy remained quiet, examining the vampire’s appearance. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days, his hair was mussed, and his clothing all wrinkled. The Spike she knew--proud, full of himself--seemed to have taken a holiday. She dragged her chair closer to him, as much to be close to him as to be able to hold a private conversation. “Spike?” Her voice was quiet and hesitant. “Is something the matter?”

 

It was the tone of her voice that did it. Like she cared--like someone in this world full of wankers actually cared about him and what went on in his unlife. Spike raised his eyes and looked at her--and saw worry and compassion in those large hazel eyes of hers. How could he have doubted her intentions, as well?

 

“Dru‘s gone.” It was the first time since he’d been left alone that he’d actually been able to form the words. The hand that held his beer shook a little--damn, that shouldn’t be happening, with an undead body...

 

She should have been happy, rejoicing even--put on a top hat, take a cane and dance her way along the railing. But Dru’s demise only created an ache in the pit of her stomach. Not because she missed the crazy vamp, but because of how truly devastated Spike must be. “Oh God, Spike. I’m... I’m so sorry. How...” She put her hand on his knee, underneath the table, trying to let him know that she was being genuine.

 

Wait a minute. The Slayer thought that Dru, a master vampire, was dead and she felt bad about it? Spike cocked his head and couldn’t help but let a small smirk form on his lips. “Dru isn’t dead, luv. She left me.”

 

“Oh, that kind of gone.” Buffy tried to pull her hand back, but it was held in place by the vampire’s own hand. In some demented, green-eyed jealousy monster kind of way, she was happy about the recent turn of events. Angel’s... wherever he went to, Dru’s out of the picture. Maybe she and Spike didn’t have to work so hard at hiding anymore.

 

“She found out about us.”

 

Ok, maybe they hadn’t done such a good job at hiding their encounters...

 

“But how?”

 

Spike snorted and took a long swig of his beer. “The poof, from what I can figure. She was waiting up for me one night, said that her daddy had come by and told her horrible things. Lies, she’d told him...” He looked up from the coaster he’d been playing with, and met the young woman’s eyes. “That was the worst of it, you know--the lies, the sneaking behind her back. I think that, even though she’s never been all there, she realized that I was the only one who was ever true to her. Until now.”

 

Buffy felt like a tramp. She’d been the ‘other woman’. Forget the young secretary who destroys a ten-year marriage, only to leave a mother and teenaged daughter on their own--she was the one who’d destroyed a century-old relationship. She truly didn’t know what to say to him. “Spike... I’m sorry... I mean, we shouldn’t have...”

 

Quicker than lightning, Spike had her chin in his hand, holding her gaze steady with his. “Don’t ever say that. This isn’t only because of you, so don’t play martyr here, Slayer. We were both responsible for what happened, and I don’t know about you but I don’t regret one minute of it. Not one touch,” he let his long fingers slide down from her chin to the column of her neck, “not one kiss,” his lips replaced his fingers, cool and dry, skimming down the heat of her skin, making her moan, “not one sound.”

 

He backed away, removing his lips and his fingers from her body. “Do you?”

 

Buffy’s only thought was snuh? His touch erased all clear thought from her mind; she knew he was asking a question--something she knew she should know, but all she could think was ‘why no more touch?’ “Do I what?”

 

Spike leaned in and spoke slowly, as if dealing with a child. “Do you regret what we’ve done, what we have?” His hand snaked over to her wrist, fingers massaging her pulse point. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of her body--her living body--all warmth, heart beating, lungs drawing in air, skin all flushed.

 

“No.” The answer was easy and obvious to the Slayer. Whatever it was that they had--because she couldn’t deny it, there was something between them, a bond of some sort--she didn’t regret it for one moment. It wasn’t logical, but when did physical attraction (it couldn’t be more than that, could it?) work from the brain? It worked from the heart, and the gut, and the soul. It was pure intuition, and when it came to Spike, her intuition was telling her ‘full steam ahead!’

 

They shared a quiet moment, both lost in their thoughts. Before she knew what she was doing, Buffy stood up and held her hand out to the blonde vamp. “Come on.”

 

Spike hesitated but for a moment before rising up beside her. Placing his hand in hers, and throwing a tip on the table--melancholy brought out the weirdest in him--he let the young woman lead him away.

 

***

 

In the shadows of the upper level, a young red-headed woman remained glued to the spot.

 

Buffy and Spike. No wonder Angel’s gone. He would have been able to sense this a mile away... Was it some sort of spell, some strange prophecy that had pushed them together? She hadn’t been able to hear what they’d been saying, but their body language was more than obvious. Spike was in the dumps, and Buffy was consoling him.

 

This was weirder than weird. Slayers and vamps--especially non-souled ones--weren’t supposed to be together, especially not in the sense that these two seemed to be. They were way too comfortable being close to each other, touching each other... This was obviously not their first encounter.

 

But now that she thought of it, Willow had found that Buffy seemed happier these past few weeks. She hadn’t been gloomy-girl like when she was with Angel. Was Spike the one who made her happy? Could the bleached vampire actually cause happiness instead of pain?

 

Argh--she had to get to the bottom of this. Not because she wanted to meddle, not because she thought an answer was owed to her, but simply because Buffy was her best friend and she’d managed to keep this from her. This was mega news, the kind that was usually shared over a steaming cup of hot cocoa, laying squished together on a twin bed, shoulder to shoulder and giggling...

 

Yep. Willow needed to polish up her resolve face and find out just what was going on between the two blondes.

 

***

 

Buffy silently followed Spike out to his car. When he opened the passenger door for her, she hesitated. “Are you sure this thing is safe?”

 

The vampire rolled his eyes. “This baby is made of steel--you’re safer riding in this than you are in any of those poncey fibreglass cars they make nowadays. Now hop in and buckle up.” He watched her as she dusted the seat off before settling in. When she was properly seated and buckled, he closed the door. Why was it that folks no longer appreciated the fine form of older cars?

 

Buffy looked around the inside of the car. The windows were painted over with black spray paint, except for a small circle directly at the driver’s eye level. Yeah, real safe. There was garbage all over the floor--liquor bottles, paper bags, empty cigarette cartons, McDonald’s wrappers... Huh? She picked up a crumpled wrapper with the tips of her fingers and pulled it open a little. Filet-O-Fish...

 

Spike hopped into the driver’s seat only to have garbage dangled in front of him.

 

“Guess your diet doesn’t only consist of ‘Happy Meals on two legs’, does it?” Buffy couldn’t help but smile when the paper was ripped from her fingers and tossed to the back seat. Pushing at the remaining garbage with her feet, she couldn’t help but tease the driver. “Wonder what other dirty little secrets I might find down here...”

 

“Hey!” Spike’s mind sped a mile a minute, trying to think of anything else he might have lying around that might be construed as anti-Big-Bad. “You just keep your feet still. It’s none of your business what’s lying around in my car.” The nerve of her! Just like a woman to start pokin’ around a bloke’s personal stuff...

 

Buffy laughed out loud this time. “Afraid I’ll find your Kinder Egg wrappers?” At the look he gave her--deer caught in the headlights--her laughing turned to outright guffaws. Now she knew why she’d led the vamp out of the club. There was so much more to him than he let on. A former scourge of Europe who now had a taste for fast food and sweets (or was it the toy?)--she just needed to know what else made him tick...

 

Spike was at a loss. Wasn’t he supposed to be sulking? Where was the melancholy, the depression? He hadn’t even thought of Dru since they’d approached the DeSoto. Five minutes with the Slayer and she had him grinning, damn her. Shaking his head, he started the car. Now he knew why he’d let her lead him out of the club. From darkness to light... And he wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

***

 

They’d been driving for over half an hour before Buffy spoke up. This would be so much easier if she could see out the windows. “Spike? Where are we going?”

 

“There’s a place up in the mountains, just a small cabin. Thought you might like to see it. Figured we could have a nice, uninterrupted talk there.” He just wanted to get away. Leave Sunnyhell, leave every trace of Dru, of Angel, of the Scoobies... even if just for a night or two. “It’s still a little ways, but it’s not altogether that far.”

 

Buffy frowned. A cabin. Up in the mountains. That meant away from everything, no doubt in the middle of the woods. If he wanted to, he could pull any trick out of his sleeve and have an advantage over her. She wouldn’t know the area and although the moon was out, his eyesight would serve him better than hers would her. Damn it, Buffy. Stop fretting. Just for once, go with the flow--push the Slayer back, relax and enjoy what life brings. He’s had tons of chances to kill you and he hasn’t, so why go to such lengths now?

 

“I’ll have to call my mom, to let her know I’ll be out.” Then, more to herself, she muttered. “I can tell her that I’m at Willow’s, she’ll buy that...”

 

Spike took his eyes off the road for a second or two and popped open the glove compartment. “There should be a cell phone in there. And, before you ask, no--you don’t want to know where I got it...”

 

The Slayer rolled her eyes. No use pestering him about it now... She keyed a much-dialled number before calling her mom. “Hey, Wills. No, I’m not home, actually. I’ve got a favour to ask you. I’m...” She looked over to the vampire, who was trying hard to pretend he wasn’t listening. “...going out of town, and I need to tell Mom that I’m staying at your place while she‘s away--she‘s gone until Christmas eve, on some kind of buying seminar or something. Is that ok with you?”

 

Oh, Goddess--she’s spending the next two days with him. Out of town! Willow tried to keep her voice even. “Of course, Buffy. But only on two conditions.”

 

Buffy hesitated. This was different... Usually her friend would readily agree to such plans, no questions asked. “Uh, ok. On what conditions?” She looked over at Spike, who raised his eyebrows--he was no longer pretending not to listen.

 

“One. That you be careful. And two--when you get back, you have to tell all about your two days out of town with Spike.” Ok, she’d let the cat out of the bag. Now Buffy knew that she knew...

 

Buffy’s hand flew to Spike’s arm, clutching the leather in a death grip. Oh, God--she knows! But she’s not flipping--actually, she seems to find it funny... “Ok, Wills. You got me. Lots of talking when I get back. And don’t worry, I’ll be safe. Good night, Willow.”

 

The Slayer ended the call and, before Spike even had a chance to ask out loud, she called her mom‘s cell phone. “Hi, Mom? Yeah, I know it’s late. I’m actually gonna stay over at Willow’s while you‘re gone; yeah, I don‘t feel like staying at home alone, especially during the holidays. The phone number? Uh--Willow’s Mom is on the phone and I’m using the cell phone they have. It comes up as a Walter Price? That’s weird... No, I don’t know. Maybe it’s someone who works with Mrs. Rosenburg. Yeah, I’ll be good. No, I won’t eat too much popcorn--I remember all too well what happened last time.” Her voice strained and exasperated, the young woman ended the call. “Look, Mom--the phone’s beginning to beep--I think it’s running out. I’ll see you when you get back. No, I haven’t forgotten that I promised to help you with the Christmas dinner--I wouldn‘t miss it for the world. Love you too--gotta go, Mom.”

 

Groaning, Buffy leaned over and hit her head against the dashboard. “You know, sometimes I think it would be easier if I just told her that I’d landed in jail. She’d just hang up and let me rot for the night.”

 

Spike couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mums are there for that, luv. They worry about you, they fret over you and they embarrass you. It’s just their nature.”

 

Closing the glove compartment, Buffy rolled the window down a little. The air was beginning to get cooler, but its freshness helped keep her awake. “Was your mom like that?”

 

The vampire closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the memories. Oh, Mother... He reached into his duster pocket and, with shaking hands, lit himself a smoke. He was trying to find a way to talk about his mother without, well, without telling the Slayer what he’d done. She’d jump out of the car for sure if she knew...

 

The young woman noticed his unease with the subject. Oh, Freud would have a field day with this one. “Never mind, Spike. It’s not important. It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Mum was a great woman. So full of love, always smiling, always happy--even after Dad died. She was a strong woman--well, strong of character. She... she got sick, right before I was turned.” He hoped that was good enough for the Slayer, that she wouldn’t prod any further. If she asked outright, he might not be able to lie. After all, he was the worst liar on the face of the earth.

 

“She sounds like she was a wonderful woman, Spike.” Buffy took his hand in hers and squeezed. She knew there was something he was keeping from her, but it seemed like he hadn’t even reconciled it with himself--it wasn’t fair to ask him to share it with her.

 

Her eyes roamed the console, wondering if he’d mind if she put some music on. He looked like he needed it. “Is there a tape or something you want me to pop in?”

 

Grateful for her tact, Spike let his body relax. “Actually, I got a CD player installed a while back. If you reach under your seat, there’s a bunch of them there. Don’t know if you’ll like any of them, though.”

 

Buffy did as he instructed, and came back up with a handful of CDs. She flipped through them--boy, he really was stuck in the eighties, wasn’t he? The Clash, Blondie, Sex Pistols... Ok, well, here were some bands she knew--Metallica, White Zombie, Nine Inch Nails... Ok, there was something she could listen to...

 

“How about Nine Inch Nails?”

 

Spike’s eyes grew wide and he took his eyes off the road for just an instant to stare at her. “Fine by me, pet. Didn’t know you were into that kind of music.”

 

“Well, seeing that I don’t know half the bands you‘ve got here, and I can’t stand the other half, I went with something I knew I could listen to. And anyway, I actually like a lot of their stuff.” She slid the CD in the player and sat back while the music started.

 

It was odd for both of them to be in such a casual situation with each other. This encounter didn’t have any of the surprise or impetuousness of their first time in the cave; it wasn’t planned or organized like the hotel room--no internet access in the car!. It was... well, it was just them, together, doing whatever came to mind. If they just wanted to sit and chat once they got to the cottage, that would suit them; if they wanted to rip each other’s clothes off the minute the door slammed shut--well, that would be fine, too.

 

Buffy leaned in to turn the music down a little. “So, what’s up with this cottage we’re going to?”

 

“Cabin, luv. It’s not really a cottage. It’s pretty much four walls with a roof, although--before you panic--there is a loo, and there’s a wood stove for heating, so you won’t be cold.” Thoughts of the Slayer spread out on blankets beside the cast iron stove had the vampire squirming in his seat--stupid tight jeans.

 

“That’s ok. When I was younger, my parents had a cabin like that, that we used to go to every now and then. I can‘t even remember where it was--all I recall is that it took forever to drive there.” She sighed, then chuckled. “Actually, I remember one of the first times we stayed there. It was in winter, and there wasn’t any insulation on any of the walls--and they were just made of plywood or something stupid like that. There was a crazy ‘snowstorm of the century’ blowing outside, and all we had was some old wood stove and about twenty sleeping bags. God it was cold that night...”

 

Spike smiled at the memory. He knew from experience that sometimes all it took was a fond memory and it seemed like everything was ok. “So I take it that you guys don’t go there anymore?”

 

Buffy’s posture slumped at the vampire’s question. Steeling her gaze ahead of her, she spoke so quietly that had he not had superior hearing, Spike would have missed her answer. “No. My parents split before I moved to Sunnydale. My dad found his secretary more interesting than his wife and daughter...” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “It’s ok, though--I mean, he gets his secretary to remember to send me birthday and Christmas gifts.”

 

He honestly didn’t know what to say to that. It happened all the time--relationships staled, they ended. Hell, he had just been handed the literal boot in a century-plus relationship. But that had been between himself and Dru. Buffy’s dad, on the other hand, hadn’t given any thought to the little girl he was abandoning. “’M sorry, pet.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. Maybe this trip was about healing for both of them.

 

“Can you pull over?” Buffy’s words surprised her, as did her intentions. “I just... I just need...”

 

She didn’t need to finish that sentence--Spike felt the same way. He waited until he came upon a clear shoulder wide enough for the car, and then he pulled over, turning off the engine. Before he knew it, he had an armful of Buffy on his lap, hugging him like her life depended on it. He returned the embrace in earnest, needing the contact as much as she did.

 

They remained locked together, Spike’s strong arms surrounding the Slayer’s small body and her breath tickling the hairs at the back of his neck. When the next song started, Spike couldn’t believe it. Of all the bloody worst timing... He felt Buffy stiffen before she pulled back to cast a heated gaze on him.

 

“I know this song...”

 

Before Trent Reznor’s voice broke through the music, her lips were upon his in a frenzied, desperate move. It took Spike a moment to realize that not only was the Slayer not offended by the timing of ‘Closer‘, it was turning her on. Bloody hell... He returned the embrace with as much passion, parting his lips to allow her tongue to enter his mouth.

 

She pressed her body against his, grinding her centre against his groin in time with the pulsating rhythm of the music. This song had always turned her on, and here she was with all the opportunity to act out any of the various fantasies that it had inspired.

 

 


I want to Fuck you like an animal

 

I want to feel you from the inside

 

I want to fuck you like an animal

 

My whole existence is flawed

 

You get me closer to God

 

His cool hands were under her shirt, trying to soak up her heat. Her skin was so smooth, her form sleek and feminine. The vampire’s hands slid up Buffy’s taut stomach until they reached her bra. On a whim, his fingers lightly travelled to the centre of the undergarment--a sly grin broke out on his lips as he felt the front clasp slip apart. Breaking their kiss, he pulled her top up, freeing her breasts from their confines.

 

Buffy looked down at her lover and saw the undisguised lust in his now almost-black eyes. Continuing to grind down on him, she pulled his face to her chest, twining her fingers in his blond locks. She couldn’t even begin to describe the sensations that flowed through her at his ministrations. The Slayer-Vampire link had something to do with it--that much she was sure of. Because no human male could ever make her feel so good just by the touch of his lips on her. He made her feel like her body was on fire and frozen to the core all at once. His cold mouth spread fiery trails against her skin as he placed wet, open-mouth kisses over her breasts.

 

She leaned back to give him more room; the change in angle caused her to catch her breath. Oh, wow... If only she could feel that, just one more... oh, there it was again...

 

Her climax came out of nowhere; her body stiffened in his arms, and she wailed his name as her body arched backwards, setting the car’s horn off.

 

Spike held her close to him--he’d nearly come just from the sound of her orgasm, and he was afraid of losing control like some teenage prat. Her small body, writhing on his still covered cock, her sweat coating his hands and his face, the smell of her release... It was almost more than he could take. He tried to slow his breathing down--damn it, he was a vampire, he shouldn’t need to breathe!--to no avail.

 

He raised his eyes to meet hers, and found understanding in them. Buffy leaned down, kissed him almost chastely on the mouth, and whispered “now it’s your turn” before crawling off his lap. Watching her scoot back on the seat, he was sure his heart would start to beat again. What plan did she have in that dirty young mind of hers?

 

As if in answer to his silent question, her hands went to his fly, popping the button open and lowering the zipper.

 

Buffy’d never wanted to taste him as bad as she did right that moment. For once, there was no hesitation, no internal debate. Her hand grasped the vampire’s erect cock and began to pump up and down its length, using the precum as lubrication. She looked back up at Spike and smiled warmly. Taking his hands in hers, she put them on her head, hoping he’d get the hint. Blowjobs were nice and all, but they were no fun if you spent half the time pulling your hair out of your mouth...

 

It took a moment for Spike to understand what it was she wanted from him. Closing his eyes and leaning back, he swept her hair back into a messy ponytail. He didn’t hold back the groan that passed his lips at the sensation of her tongue pressing up against the underside of his erection. The fact that this act was making the Slayer just as horny as him--ok, maybe not quite as much--made the vampire’s insides twist with more than desire, more than lust. As stupid as it sounded, it made him feel wanted, like Buffy was doing this not just because she was incredibly randy, but because it was something she wanted to share with him.

 

As disappointing as it was--because hey, what man wouldn’t like to be able to hold off for the eternal blowjob--Spike felt the onset of his impending release. “Buffy, luv, I’m gonna come...” He relieved the hold he had on her hair, giving her the chance to pull back if she so wished.

 

Which she didn’t. Nothing short of the abominable snowman pulling the roof off the car would distract Buffy from finishing what she’d begun. She relaxed her throat muscles, taking in strand after strand of Spike’s thick cum, swallowing everything he had to release. She only pulled back once she was sure he was done--which was obvious when the vampire’s body went slack, sliding down a bit on the seat.

 

Snickering to herself, she sat up and, propping herself against the back of the seat she leaned in and pulled one of his eyelids open. “Spike? You in there?”

 

When “ugh...” was the only response she got, she playfully smacked the vampire on the chest. “Come on, Spike. There’s a cabin that we need to get to. It’s probably freezing in there--we’ll have to work hard at warming it up...”

 

In the blink of an eye, the vampire was sitting up and had pulled her back up against him. Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss against her lips. “Right you are, luv. We’re still about an hour away--might as well be on our way.” He started the engine and pulled back onto the road, his own version of ‘warming up the cabin’ flowing through his mind.

 

***

 

The Slayer was sound asleep by the time Spike pulled off the road onto the cabin’s private drive. It was hard to call 500 yards of road a driveway... He hadn’t been there in years--he hoped beyond hope that it was still there, that the caretakers (whom he still paid) were actually doing their job. It was the only thing, aside from the DeSoto, that he really owned, and tonight he was grateful for both.

 

“Pet? Wake up--we’re here.” He shook Buffy’s shoulder, but she didn’t budge. Shrugging, he left her in the car--she’d be warm long enough for him to get a good fire started. They probably wouldn’t feel the stove’s heat until morning, but he doubted they’d have to worry about that.

 

The crisp air woke him up as it hit his nostrils. Up here, you couldn’t smell the cars, or the garbage, or any of the other smelly things that the city had to offer. What he could smell was the pine trees, the rich earth, and snow. It was coming soon--that much he could tell. Not a whole lot of it, but enough for Buffy to enjoy, he imagined. Shrugging, he pulled a key out of his wallet and walked up the cinder blocks stairs to the front door.

 

It fit easily into the lock--that was a good sign. On one hand, it meant that no one else had claimed the cabin as their own; on the other, it meant that the caretakers were keeping the place up. Now all he had to worry about was if there was enough wood inside the cabin. There was enough moonlight for him to go out and fetch some, but it was much easier to have it at hand.

 

The door swung open easily, and he walked in. The people had been here recently--he could still smell them. Good. Kicking the dirt off his boots--good ol’ Victorian manners were hard to shake--he made his way to the stove that lay just to the door’s right. He kneeled in front of the old cast iron fixture and swung the handle over, opening the door. There were still ashes, but they had died a long while back. To the left of the stove lay a box full of kindling and bark, and to the left of that box was a stack of medium-sized logs; that would allow him to start a good fire. Pulling his lighter out of his duster pocket, he set to work.

 

Buffy slowly came to, realizing that the car was no longer in motion. Stretching, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Where the hell were they? Actually, where the hell was Spike? She undid her seatbelt and opened the car door.

 

Her breath caught as she stepped out of the car. She was surrounded by trees--not the decorative shrub-sized trees they had in Sunnydale, but 30 and 40 foot high pine trees. It looked beautiful, it smelled wonderful... it felt great. She shut the door and turned around--that must be the cabin, she thought to herself, looking at the smallish structure behind her. Shivering--she was, after all, not wearing appropriate clothing for being up in the mountains--she spent a few seconds taking in the view of the structure.

 

The door was still open and inside she could see a faint reddish glow. Stretching once again because, well, nothing felt better than a lungful of clean air, she walked towards the building. The stairs were a bit rickety, so she walked up them slowly--she was still wearing her Bronzing boots, and chunky heels weren’t the best for climbing poorly constructed steps..

 

When she peeked inside the doorway, she was met with an image of Spike working on the fire. A warm rush flowed through her at the sight. It was so... well, she couldn’t put a word to it. Not quite domestic. Maybe a bit rugged--but that wasn’t all of it. She shrugged--so she wasn’t word girl tonight. Whatever.

 

“You looked too peaceful to wake, luv. I tried a bit but figured you’d wake up on your own.” Spike’s attention was still focussed on trying to get the medium-sized pieces of wood to stay lit, but he still tossed a glance her way.

 

“Thanks. I think I needed a bit of sleep. Exams just finished at school--I feel like I studied for two weeks straight. Ugh.” She walked over to his left, crouching to his level. “You want a hand with anything?”

 

“Actually, if you could fix up one of the beds--I’m sure we’re going to need about a dozen blankets. I forgot how bloody cold it is up here.” The vampire wasn’t used to this side of the Slayer--the helpful, tell-me-what-I-can-do side of her. He was even more surprised when she leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek.

 

“No prob. Consider me blanket girl.” Buffy got up and took a look around the cabin. Not bad, really--much, much better than the little white cabin of her childhood. Her back to Spike, she faced the rest of the cabin. To her right was a kitchen area, with a small armoire and a table with four chairs. To the left there was a couch, set against the far wall. Lots of space in between--maybe there was supposed to be something there when it was built?

 

She passed the kitchen/living room areas, finding herself in a framed-in hallway. The two-by-fours were all set up, but the walls had never been built. Yup. Definitely a work in progress... On either side of the makeshift hallway were bedrooms, each containing one double bed.

 

Eeny meeny miny moe... She turned to the one on her right, which was more in line with the stove--slightly. Pulling the blankets back, she saw that there were only three, if you counted the sheet. Nope, that just wouldn’t do. She crossed over to the other bed and stripped it of its two blankets, dragging them over to the other bed. Four blankets and one sheet. Would that do?

 


“Spike--are there any other blankets around? I don’t think there are enough on the beds...”

 

The vampire looked up from his successful fire. “There should be a set of drawers out back, past the bedrooms. Right across from the loo. If I recall, that’s where all the bedding was kept.” He turned his attention back to the task at hand and poked at the fire. One more log was thrown onto the fire before he closed the doors; he played with the vents on the doors until they were opened just so, letting in the right amount of oxygen. No good burning down the cabin...

 

He locked the cabin door, out of habit more than anything, before turning towards the bedroom. Buffy sat on the bed’s edge, shivering and arms folded close to her. When he began to disrobe, she gave him the widest stare.

 

“Are you insane? It’s freezing in here--don’t you keep long underwear in this place?”

 

Spike chuckled before sliding under the covers. “Take it from someone who grew up in 19th century England, luv. You’ll warm up faster if you’re in the buff--’specially if there are two of us.” He raised his eyebrows and pulled the blankets away from her side of the bed.

 

Muttering under her breath about crazy vampires and catching colds, Buffy did as Spike had suggested. Squealing when the cold air hit her skin, she dove under the covers--which were no warmer than the ambient air. “Aargh! God, it’s cold! You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” She shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering, legs and arms pulled close to her body.

 

“Piffle, luv.” The vampire moved over to her shivering form and pulled one of her arms over his slender waist. He leaned in and placed his lips against hers, cupping a hand over one of her breasts, massaging it and tweaking its nipple. He let his hand slide down to her legs, which were still bent up against her, and straightened one out, curling it over his own legs.

 

He broke the kiss and, rubbing his thigh against her core, whispered soothingly. “You’ll find it hot in here soon enough, Slayer.”

 

Strangely enough, Buffy felt her skin warm a little at the vampire’s actions. When she’d initially crawled into the bed, she didn’t think that there was anything short of a steaming shower that could warm her up. She rubbed her leg up and down his, the friction adding its own heat to their embrace. Rolling onto her back, she pulled him on top of her. “Maybe I need more than blankets on top of me to keep me warm...”

 

Spike felt his cock harden at her actions and words. “Cor, Buffy...” The words escaped him as her lips smashed up against his, her teeth biting his lower lip. She pulled back and cast an amused gaze on him.

 

“Less talking--more warming up.”

 

The vampire threw his head back and let out a loud laugh. “Yes ma’am!” His lips returned to her neck, nipping and licking, while the hand that wasn’t holding him up travelled down her rapidly warming body.

 

He’d missed having such a responsive lover before. It had been like this with Dru, before Prague. But since becoming ill, she hadn’t been able to participate as freely in the bedroom.

 

But Buffy gave it her all. She liked the slow as much as the fast, if not more. She liked the gentle and the rough, the traditional and the kinky. She was perfect for him. And right now, she was writhing beneath him, responding to his delicate touch like her body lived off of it.

 

The things he did to her, the way he made her feel. Buffy could only hope that she made him feel a tenth as good as he made her feel. His left hand was presently clutched at her hip, massaging--or was it holding on?--and squeezing. His lips had left her neck and were now pressing butterfly kisses against her clavicle. Under his ministrations, she’d quickly forgotten about the cold. Actually, now that she gave it a second’s thought, the bed seemed to have gotten somewhat toasty.

 

“Still cold, luv?” Spike took his attention away from her body to look up into her eyes. Eyes that were clouded over, that were gentle, and loving, and appreciative of his attention. He cursed his unbeating heart at that moment--he would have wanted to feel it skip a beat under the emotion of that gaze.

 

“No. I’m perfect. Absolutely, undeniably, perfect right now.” Buffy took his face in her hands and pulled him up to her lips. Their kiss was slow and wet, tongues sharing an intimate dance, exploring each other’s mouths. “Make love to me, Spike. I don’t care about the foreplay right now. I just want to feel you inside me, filling me. I want it to be slow, to last for hours.”

 

The vampire simply blinked, then nodded. His lips came back down to hers as he pushed his way into her, slowly--just as she’d asked. He didn’t know about hours, but he wanted it to last a long, long, time. Her channel was moist and hot, and her muscles grasped around him in a welcoming gesture. He would be forever lost in her eyes, would crave her arms’ embrace till the end of his days, would summon up the warmth of her body and her heart in his coldest moments. He realized, at that moment, that in just over a month, he, William the Bloody, had fallen in love with Buffy Summers, vampire Slayer.

 

This realization led him to clutch her closer to him, to increase the passion of their embrace.

 

This is what she’d wanted with Angel, when she’d first met him. What she needed, then and now. Someone who gave themselves completely, without reserve. Spike, she realized, didn’t do things halfway. He’d hated her with his entire being, and now he--loved her, perhaps? Well, it sure felt like it to her. They weren’t fucking, they weren’t having sex, they were making love. No, wait--she was being made love to. The vampire’s hold on her, his almost still movements in and out of her, his possessive kisses--it made her feel loved. There was no other word that fit. Did she love him? She honestly couldn’t answer that. Could she love him? Yes. There was no denying that she could easily love the vampire--nay, the man--she was with.

 

The cabin was silent but for the sounds of their intimacy. The slow squeaking of the bed, the breaths taken between kisses, and the occasional escaped whimper or moan.

 

It seemed like they’d been in each other’s arms for hours, yet it wasn’t long enough. Buffy was the first to feel the tingles begin to course up her legs, the warmth radiating from the point of their union. Letting out a low, drawn-out moan, she pressed up against him quicker and harder. Opening her eyes, seeing the adoration in Spike’s blue gaze, she lifted her head and kissed him lightly on the lips. Without breaking eye contact, she muttered her first words. “I want you to taste me. This isn’t just lust, or hunger--it’s more than it was when we were in the cave.” Her breath hitched as she began to shake. Bearing her neck to him, she whispered. “Please, let me share this with you...”

 

Spike didn’t hesitate to abide by her request. He was afraid that if he did wait too long, he’d wake up and still be alone, in the factory, drunk out of his right mind. When her body stiffened and her internal muscles clenched around his shaft, he let his demon out and tenderly sank his fangs into her exposed neck. The taste of her rich blood, the sound of her keening--howling his name, the feel of her gripping him inside and out led to his own fall over the precipice. Pulling his fangs out of her, he let his forehead drop to her shoulder before clutching her hips and pumping inside of her, finally finding his release. Energy drained, he fell limply to her side.

 

They both lay there, a tangle of limbs and blankets. “You were right,” Buffy managed to say, in between deep breaths, “I’m not really cold anymore.” Giggling, she asked. “Do you think we can open a window, or something?” She felt more than heard Spike’s laughter at her joke before he found the energy to turn towards her.

 

“Come here, you.” He pulled her against him and pulled the covers over them both. “If you open a window now, you won’t be too happy come morning. That fire I built won’t last till then, so you might as well hog all the heat you can.”

 

Buffy snuggled closer to the vampire, mumbling an okay before letting herself get taken over by exhaustion. This time, she knew that come morning, she’d still be in her lover’s arms. And that was all the fodder she needed for sweet dreams.


 

Oh, that vampire’s gonna get it...

 

Buffy had awakened from a deep slumber just a few minutes before, only to find herself alone. Again. She was certain that, this once, she would finally get to wake up in her lover’s arms. Angel and Parker (Mr. Poophead) had kept that experience from her, and Spike--well, they really hadn’t had the chance, now had they?

 

Not a little miffed, she sat up in the still-warm bed and ran her fingers through her hair. Or, so she tried to. Brow furrowed, the young woman lifted her hands to the sides of her head and felt... braids? Her hair had been worked into two long braids, which hung over her shoulders. What the hell was...

 

“Argh!”

 

She made the mistake of looking down at herself and saw that she was dressed in a light green dress and white frilly pinafore. Although she didn’t really know what a pinafore was, she was willing to bet she was wearing one. Throwing the blankets off of herself, she hopped off the side of the bed. Looking for some footwear, she groaned, shaking her head. Figures...

 

There, just by her feet, was a pair of wooden clogs--and just her size, to boot. Grumbling, she slipped them on and clomped over to the door. She muttered to herself as she negotiated the distance in her size 6 spruces. “Stupid vampire. When I get my hands on him, I’m gonna tear his head clean off--after I make him walk in these stupid shoes.”

 

Once outside--why on earth was she looking for a vampire outdoors during the day, anyway?--she began to scan the grounds for Spike. As she headed over to the woodshed (maybe he was gathering some firewood or something), she felt a raindrop hit her nose. Funny, she thought to herself, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. She could hear chuckling, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

 

The Slayer felt dizzy as the scenery around her changed back to that of the bedroom. She was back in bed, but for some reason it was still raining. The chuckling continued as she wiped the wetness from her nose.

 

“Mornin’ luv.”

 

Ok, that would explain the chuckling. Buffy turned to her left and saw Spike lying beside her, clad only in his black jeans. She looked down at herself and saw that she was still naked under the sheets. Combing her fingers through her hair, she was glad to feel that it was braidless. Thank God for the little things...

 

Propping herself on her elbows, she gave him half a smirk. “You know, you came this close to becoming a pile of dust just now.”

 

The vampire kept his eyes locked with hers, although he was trailing a cold, wet finger down her neck, along her clavicle and just along the edge of the covers that still hid her breasts. “That so?”

 

“Mmm hmm... I had this horrid dream, where I was, like, Heidi or something. My hair was braided and I was wearing some stupid green dress with an apron--oh! and I had to wear those wooden shoes, whatever they’re called.”

 

“Clogs?”

 

“Yeah, that’s it--clogs. Anyway, I thought that you did it, and I went outside to look for you... And then it started to rain, even if the skies were blue...” She trailed off and squinted her eyes at him. “Wait a minute... I know why your hands are cold, but why are they wet?”

 

Spike raised a tin cup, dipped a finger in it and traced the tip of her nose with the wet digit. “Had ourselves a bit of precipitation last night, pet. Thought you might be interested an’ all,” he showed her the contents of the cup, “but it melted before you woke up.”

 

Buffy’s eyes grew large before she jumped up on the bed to look out the window. “It snowed?! Oh my God, did it ever! You can’t even see the ground!” She danced around, excited like a young child the night before Christmas.

 

She squealed when she was pulled down back onto the bed. Before she had a chance to gather her wits (or catch her breath), Spike covered her body with his own, blue eyes almost black with lust.

 

“Christ, Slayer, don’t you know what that does to me--seeing your beautiful body bouncin’ around like that?” He had pulled back a little, resting his weight on his forearms, but his eyes never lost their hunger.

 

Snow forgotten--for the moment--Buffy looked up coyly at the vampire, batting her eyelashes. Tracing a finger down the length of his hard chest, she teased him. “Why, Spike--I have no idea what you mean. Why don‘t you show me?”

 

Growling low in his chest, the vampire muttered “vixen” before thrusting his lips onto hers in a passionate embrace.

 

Buffy opened her mouth to Spike’s probing tongue as her hands reached down to undo the demon’s jeans. His left hand was already wandering south, tracing invisible lines down her side, making her squirm both in anticipation and because she was ticklish.

 

Spike’s chuckle at her sensitivity turned into a moan when he felt the Slayer’s hot little hand grasp his cock. He knew he’d never ever have a problem performing with her; everything about this young woman drove him nuts--her taste, her smell, her humanity. When her toes grasped his pant legs and began to pull down, the vampire got the hint. Pulling himself up, he sat on the edge of the bed to rid himself of the denim barrier.

 

Concentration was difficult to come by, as the Slayer had moved to press herself up against his back, one leg on each side of him. Her arms were coiled around his waist, hands tracing the outline of his abs. The vampire didn’t even attempt to suppress the moan that rose at the feel of her tongue drawing a hot, wet line down his neck and along his shoulder. If this is what fresh air did to her, he’d have to permanently keep her at the cabin.

 

Buffy didn’t know what possessed her to act out like she did. She didn’t often initiate anything in the bedroom, but for some reason she felt like she had to--she couldn’t just sit there and watch this god of a demon undress without feeling him, or tasting him, or heck--wrapping herself around him. His body was cool and felt good against her flushed skin. She loved the feel of his muscles underneath his smooth skin--so soft on top, yet so hard underneath. It was the opposite of his personality, she realized: Spike himself had woven an image of the Big Bad, all tough and uncaring, yet when you scratched below the surface, he was all soft and sensitive.

 

Not that you’d live long if you ever told anyone that...

 

Her musings were interrupted when the vampire turned to face her, leaning back against the head of the bed and pulling her onto his crossed legs. Hmm... never tried this before. She was pulled flush against him, her hardened nipples rubbing against his chest, her bent legs at his sides, pressed against the cabin wall. When he pressed his lips against hers, opening his mouth to her tongue, Buffy couldn’t help but bring her hands up to play in his hair. When mussed, it defied the gel he copiously applied to it and became soft and curly. Which allowed the Slayer to twirl her fingers in them--something she didn’t think she’d ever get enough of.

 

Spike knew she’d never been in this position before from the surprised look in her eyes when he pulled her onto his lap. It wasn’t something that everyone would be comfortable attempting--the angle being awkward and difficult for most who didn’t have the abs and muscle control they both had. His hands went to the Slayer’s hips and lifted her so he could position himself at her entrance.

 

When she felt him slide in--slide home--Buffy’s head dropped back and her grip on his shoulders tightened. “God, that feels better every time...” She lifted her head back up and, lips slightly parted, directed her hazel gaze straight through his blue one. Her hands moved up to his face and began to explore it as if they were feeling it for the first time.

 

As the Slayer’s fingers traced his scarred eyebrow, his sharp cheeks and his cool lips, Spike couldn’t tear his gaze away from hers. He felt hypnotized, as if he were drowning in vast greenish-brown pools that reflected the awe and admiration he was experiencing at that moment. She was right and he knew it. It did get better every time. Although he didn’t only think that in the physical sense. Spiritually, emotionally, or whatever the hell you want to call it--he felt like she was sharing her soul with him, little by little. Every time they parted ways, he was more of a man.

 

And for some cosmically fucked-up reason, that made him happy.

 

Spike’s hold on her hips tightened, and Buffy took that as a hint to press herself down onto him even faster. She knew this wasn’t the emotionally-charged encounter they’d shared the previous night--it was, simply put, just a good bit of lust that needed to be worked out of their systems. Feeling his lips on her neck, where she’d allowed--okay, asked--him to drink from her, she realized that this made her almost as happy. Just as long as she was in his arms.

 

The vampire’s release spurred her own on, and they gasped each other’s name in unison. Breathing erratically, Buffy let out a chuckle.

 

Faring no better than the human, Spike managed to ask in between breaths “What’s funny, luv?”

 

The young woman pulled him in for a quick kiss on the lips before falling back onto the bed. “I was just thinking how nice it would be to wake up to this every morning. It would sure beat having Mom pull the blankets off me...”

 

Spike smiled at that, but said nothing. He just wanted to savour the moment--and memorize everything about the woman lounging in front of him: the rise and fall of her chest with every deep breath, the rosy spots on her cheeks, the curve of her stomach and hips, the gurgling of her stomach...

 

“Oh!” Buffy’s eyes grew wide and her hand went straight to her stomach. “Guess that means it’s time to get dressed and get some food in me.” She hesitated for a moment. “You do have food here, right?”

 

Pulling his jeans back on, the bleached blonde nodded. “Yeah, I sent word to the caretakers so they would leave a bit of food up here for you...” Oh, bugger.

 

Her hands stopped in mid bra-clasping. “What do you mean, food for me? Spike--how did you know I’d be coming up here? Is this all some kind of trick? Is Dru really gone?” If this was all some sort of sick joke...

 

Spike handed Buffy her shirt and pants. “Look, Slayer. Everything I said was true. Dru is gone--the only thing I didn’t come out straight and tell you is that I was really hoping that I could get you up here. It was a lucky coincidence that you were at the Bronze, but if you hadn’t been there, I was prepared to find you. Even if it meant going to your house and facing your mum. Axe or not.”

 

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what she would have done had this all been some sort of ruse to get her up here just for sex. When she’d seen the vampire at the club, and the dejected mood he was in, her feelings for him had surged. Call them what you will--maternal, sympathetic, compassion--she’d wanted to do anything in her power to make him better.

 

Pulling her shirt on, she shivered. She hadn’t really been ready for this kind of weather, not knowing that they’d end up hours from Sunnydale. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she looked around. “You wouldn’t happen to have any extra clothing, would you? Something that’s warmer than this?”

 

She wasn’t going to press the issue any further, Spike realized. He really didn’t have the energy to get into a fight--well, not mentally, anyway--and he appreciated her understanding. “There should be a couple of sweaters in the same set of drawers that had the sheets. And before you ask, yes--Dru did wear them. She was always so cold...” Before his emotions could get the best of him, the vampire stood up and walked to the kitchenette area. “I’ll take a look and see what kind of food they left us...”

 

Buffy knew better than to say anything about Dru; it wasn’t really the right time to complain about vampire cooties and anyway--she was really cold and didn’t rightly care who the hell had worn the damn things. She noticed the change in Spike’s demeanour at the mention of his recent ex and figured that she would have to talk to him before long.

 

But for now, her main objective was to find a sweater that wouldn’t make her look like Laura Ingalls...

 

***

 

Having found herself a nice dark blue cable-knit sweater--God, this thing is warm--Buffy walked over to the kitchenette to see what Spike had found. There was no saying what kind of freaks a vampire would hire as caretakers--she so didn’t want to end up eating spam omelettes for breakfast.

 

Spike looked up from the stove, where he had a cast-iron frying pan heating up. Hopefully he’d be able to pull off cooking an edible breakfast. He’d already had his blood, but was sure that the smell of some warm human food would make him hungry all over again. Nodding towards the armoire, he spoke up. “Dishes and whatnot are in there, if you don’t mind setting the table. You’ll want to grab the syrup, too.” He scrunched his brow as his gaze scanned the shelves. “Don’t think we have butter, though...”

 

Buffy shrugged. “That’s ok. You cook, I eat--I’m not about to complain about a lack of condiments.” She set about gathering the dishes and the cutlery and set two places at the small table. Since her task only took about two minutes, the Slayer allowed herself to sit down and watch the vampire at work.

 

It was funny, really--she had to bite back giggles at the sight he made. The object of her amusement was barefoot, shirt still unbuttoned, shock of almost-white hair sticking straight up--and he was cooking French toast. He really, truly had to feel comfortable around her to let her see him so... un-Big-Bad-like. Ok, so it’s not a real word, but it suits him right now. She really wished he hadn’t put the shirt on--she could only imagine the play of his muscles as he lifted the heavy pan.

 

Buffy was lost in a dream-like state, visions of a shirtless Spike dancing before her eyes, when a plate was placed in front of her. She shook her head and found herself looking into the vampire’s amused gaze. Blushing, she twisted the top off the syrup. “Fine. So you caught me staring--can’t blame me, can you?”

 

Spike bit back the smart retort that had almost spilled from his lips. It was more than enough that she was admitting to admiring his body. Hey, even sexy vampires need a bit of an ego boost... “So, they edible?” He took the syrup from the Slayer and began to pour a copious amount onto his own plate.

 

The young woman arched an eyebrow, watching the gallons of sweet stuff pour onto the vampire’s plate. “Doesn’t much matter, does it? It’s not like you’re going to actually be able to taste them, with all that syrup.”

 

“Hey! This is real maple syrup--don’t get to indulge in this stuff often enough...”

 

“I’m just teasing, Spike. They’re actually really good...” She was surprised. She’d hardly expected them to be properly cooked, never mind actually edible. “Oh... yum, even.” Looking up from her plate, she asked around a mouthful “how did you make these so light?”

 

“Uh... well... Actually, I’ve never made them before. I just followed the recipe that Mrs. Crawford left me.” The vampire took another bite, wishing he’d doubled the recipe. He knew he could have eaten a few more and by the way the Slayer was packing them away he figured the same went for her.

 

Pointing her fork at him--and dripping syrup on the table in the process--Buffy couldn’t help but laud him. “Well, Mr. First Time, I know who I’m bringing along when I leave home.”

 

Spike raised his scarred eyebrow and responded in a warm voice. “I’d hope you’d bring me with you for more than my culinary talents, pet.” Smiling as his breakfast companion rolled her eyes, the bleached blonde reached over and wiped some syrup from the corner of her mouth. Licking the gooey substance from his fingertip, he gave her a ’what?!’ look. “Well, can’t let any of this go to waste, can we?”

 

“Whatever.” Buffy got up and stretched. “So, what’s there to do around here, anyway? You got a Game Cube stashed away or something?”

 

Now it was the vampire’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, but there isn’t any electricity in this cabin, hence no video games. Once you finish washing the dishes, we can go out for a walk.” He turned towards the bathroom to wash up with the melted snow he’d brought in earlier.

 

“Are you insane?” Buffy took the dishes and put them in what she hoped was a wash basin--she wasn‘t going to argue about the dishes; after all, rules always were that if one cooked, the other cleaned. “How the hell are we going to go for a walk--in the daytime? Or have you forgotten, in the clean, crisp air, about your sun allergy?” She filled a kettle with water and rummaged around the kitchen, in search of some dish soap.

 

“That’s the point, Slayer. Sun allergy. Not much of that right now, if you look outside.” He could only hope that the weather would remain as such, or he may just have to swallow his words--before burning to a crisp.

 

Buffy looked out the window. Sure enough, the sky was heavily overcast--it was even snowing a little. She was surprised that he could go out in daytime at all, but hey--who would know more than the vampire himself? “Ok, but if it looks like it’s going to clear up we’re heading back.”

 

Cleaned up as much as was possible, Spike sat himself at the table. A deck of cards in hand, he began to deal himself a game of solitaire. “Fine by me, luv. I don’t plan on getting crispy any time soon.”

 

***

 

“Are you sure we’re not lost?” Buffy cast a nervous glance around her--they were surrounded by trees, and the falling snow was beginning to cover their tracks. White cabin aside, she’d never had much experience roughing it.

 

Fists clenching at his sides, the vampire bit back a growl. “You ask me that one more time, I’ll make sure you never see that cabin ever again, Slayer.” He’d stopped in his tracks, trying to rein in his temper. “How would you put it? Oh, yeah: ‘Hello, vampire!’ or some such rot... I’ve got heightened senses, and the fact that we’ve pretty much travelled in a straight line helps!”

 

The young woman mumbled an apology before resuming the leisurely pace they had set. She was surprised when she felt Spike take her hand in hers. This was way too girlfriend/boyfriend, but hey--they were out in the middle of nowhere. It had the dual bonus of feeling nice and not being noticeable to anyone she might know.

 

The next while was spent in silence as both vampire and Slayer took in the serenity of their surroundings. A much different pace to what they were both accustomed, even if Sunnydale wasn’t exactly the most bustling metropolis of California. Spike had been brought up in London and had spent most of his time in the larger cities of Europe and the US--well, except for that short trip to Bethel, New York in 1969--and Buffy had lived in LA before moving to the Hellmouth. Walks in the wilderness weren’t exactly the norm for either of them.

 

Suddenly, Spike stopped in his tracks, holding Buffy still next to him. He put his index finger to her lips, quietly instructing her to remain quiet. His demon had heard the rabbit’s rapid heartbeat long before his eyes had set upon its shape. Pointing to an area about twenty yards ahead of them, he singled it out for the Slayer to see.

 

He had no idea why he’d even bothered. What the heck kind of poncey act was it to be gawking at fuzzy rabbits with the Slayer, anyway? But as he watched her face light up, her hazel eyes grow large, her mouth stretch taut with a wide grin, he cast aside any doubts. Wanker, he chastened without much conviction. Love’s bitch all the way...

 

The rabbit turned around to watch them as intently and as still as his observers, before shooting off to the left out of their sight.

 

Still caught up in the moment--the last fuzzy creature she’d seen in Sunnydale had been a Gar’oth demon--Buffy stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on Spike’s cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered.

 

Spike began to worry as the snow began to fall harder. The tiny specs of snow had changed to large, fluffy Christmas flakes, clinging to the two blondes’ lashes and clothing. “You ok to keep goin’, pet, or are you getting cold?” Spike had to force himself to remember that his companion was human, thus more susceptible to the elements. He pulled her in closer to him, draping his arm around her.

 

“I’m still good. This sweater is really warm, anyway. No wonder Dru brought it here...” The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. Of course, they had come out here to talk things over, but it didn’t change the fact that Spike still flinched at the mention of his sire’s name. The best she could come up with was an awkward “sorry.”

 

It wasn’t her fault, really it wasn’t. It wasn’t as if the memory of Dru would be erased from all their memories just because he willed it. And anyway, by losing his sire he‘d gained more freedom to be with the Slayer. Which, in his books, was becoming more and more of a win-win situation for him. “S’alright, luv.”

 

Buffy watched him walk away, but she remained rooted on the spot. They had come to this retreat of sorts to get certain issues out of their systems. Now, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by the placating silence of nature, might just be the perfect time to get things off their chests, so to speak. “Spike?”

 

“Yeah?” The vampire turned around to see that the Slayer hadn’t moved.

 

“Do you want to, maybe, talk about it?” There. The offer was open; now it was up to him to act on it.

 

At that moment, the vampire had an epiphany concerning himself, Dru and the Slayer. “Actually, there’s nothing to talk about.”

 

Great. Now she was going to have to get all Sigmund Freud on Spike. Stupid avoidy vampire. “Look, Spike--I know it’s not something you want to discuss, but that’s kinda the reason you brought us here.”

 

The bleach blonde shook his head, turning his gaze from the vast expanse of the forest back to Buffy. “I’m tellin’ the truth, pet. Being here, with you, I’ve figured it out.”

 

“Oh? And what is it that you‘ve figured out?” Buffy felt her stomach sink. If he said he was going after Dru, she was sure she‘d sit down and have a good cry.

 

“That I’d be kidding myself if I said that I cared more about Dru than I do for you.” There. It was out in the open, a realization for him and a revelation to her. Spike was entering a new phase in his unlife. Of course, the pig’s blood in the DeSoto’s trunk confirmed at least that much.

 

The vampire held his breath. How would the Slayer take his declaration? Would she swoon, or laugh at him?

 

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat at Spike’s words. He cared for her. More than he did for Dru. Had he not been looking straight at her, his clear blue eyes unwavering, she would have thought that he was teasing her. Cruel, it would have been.

 

But it wasn’t a lie. How was she supposed to react? Hell, what were her own feelings towards the vampire? The answer came easily. Angel’s leaving had caused her only minimal worry, but the thought of losing Spike made her stomach turn.

 

Buffy had feelings for Spike. Deep feelings.

 

The young woman mulled the idea around in her mind much in the same way that a wine taster might swish a sip of pinot noir in his mouth. Yup. Sounded good to her. “So,” she asked, “where do we go from here?”

 

Spike let out the breath he’d been holding. There was a ‘we’ after all. “Don’t know, luv. Figure we can play it by ear.”

 

The young woman paused, then smiled up at the vampire. “You know, that sounds good to me.” She looked around them and noticed that the wind had picked up and the snowfall was even heavier. “But how about we head for the cabin before even your vampire senses can’t get us back?”

 

***

 

They’d spent the remainder of the afternoon alternating between cards and a crossword book that had been left behind by the caretakers. Now, after a dinner of canned baked beans and Kraft Dinner, they had let the fire die down and retired to their bedroom, which was lit by the flame of a sole candle.

 

Perched on the edge of their bed, Spike patted the space beside him. “C’mere, love.”

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“No. I want to watch you.” The words came out as a whisper.

 

Ok, now he was confused. “Watch me what, luv? Watch me undress?” As much as the thought of undressing for the Slayer turned him on, the act itself wasn’t new. Wasn’t something she should be coy about.

 

Deep breath, Buffy, or you’ll never get this out. “I want to watch you... touch yourself.” There. Out in the open. Hopefully, he’d get her meaning and she wouldn’t have to pull out a sketch pad and draw it out for him.

 

If it wasn’t for her increased heartbeat, her flushed cheeks and the smell of her arousal, the vampire wouldn’t believe for a minute that she meant... But she had to. And the thought of performing something so personal for her viewing had him harder than he could ever imagine. He bit back a dozen smart remarks--if he didn’t go about this the right way, she’d retract her request and brush it off as a misunderstanding.

 

His voice hoarse with desire, he managed to whisper “whatever you wish, luv” before lifting himself off the bed to undress.

 

His eyes never left her as he undid the buttons that ran down the front of his shirt. One by one, Buffy watched them pull apart, revealing to her heated gaze the alabaster length of his chest, awash in shades of gold and red cast by the candle‘s flame. Of its own will, her own finger made its way to her mouth, slipping in and then out, tracing the swollen flesh of her lips.

 

He wouldn’t last. Nope. For the first time ever, Spike was sure that he’d come in his pants. Not even Dru had ever excited him like his Slayer did at that moment, lost unto a world of her own, eyes hazy with lust, finger tracing paths where his tongue should in all rights be. He managed to pull his pants off before settling across from her, back leaned against the bed’s headboard. He had no scruples when it came to his body--quite the contrary, he knew he looked good and was vain enough to flaunt it.

 

Stretching one leg out and keeping one bent to prevent his slipping down the sheets, his voice broke the silence. “You gonna undress too? It’s much more fun if the temptation is stronger, pet.”

 

She wanted to say no, she wanted him to be at a distinct disadvantage, to know how she felt whenever she was near him. Even if they were both dressed, he had a way of making her feel vulnerable, of giving himself the upper hand. But she couldn’t refuse him. She knew he didn’t have a thrall per se, but those bedroom eyes, half-lidded with want, and the need in his voice easily broke down all her barriers.

 

But she still wasn’t completely at a loss... Nodding, she replied, “only if you start.”

 

His eyes never left hers as his hand moved to his cock, swollen with borrowed blood. Tracing his thumb over the head, he gathered enough lubrication to begin sliding his hand up and down its length. He watched as she pulled her top over her head before seeming to hesitate. She wasn’t going to bow out on him now, was she?

 

When she slowed down, Buffy saw the flash of disappointment pass through her lover’s blue eyes. Did he really think she would be so callous as to stop? Really, he must know by now how insane he drives her... Pulling herself into a kneeling position, she sat back on her feet. She offered him a shy smile, letting him know that she was in no way reneging on their deal.

 

His breath hitched when the Slayer reached to unclasp her bra. Her eyes never wavering from his, she seductively peeled the garment from her body, slowly slipping it off one arm, then the next. The thing that undid his resolve to take is slowly, though, was when she began to play with her breasts. Head bent back, one hand on the footboard holding herself steady, one hand pulling at her erect nipple, she seemed oblivious to the effect she had on him; heck, she seemed oblivious to his presence.

 

The vampire’s up and down motion quickened and lost its steady pace as he watched his Slayer touch herself. At some point, this had turned out to be a two-person game; one which he wasn’t loathe to lose. Not when the prize was across from him, working her pants’ zipper down, the smell of her arousal thick to his demon’s senses.

 

Buffy forced herself to open her eyes. After all, she was supposed to be watching him, teaching him a lesson on how it felt to be at a disadvantage. And when her eyes rested on his quivering form, blue eyes turned black, breathing erratic, muscles (more than one!) twitching, she knew that she’d been playing the game just right. How could she not have figured out that staying just out of his reach, doing things to herself that he was used to doing, would turn him to jelly? Slipping out of her pants, she kept her panties on. She smiled like a vixen as she slipped her hand beneath the cotton fabric, knowing that the imagination always fuelled desire that much more than actually seeing.

 

“Christ, pet...” Spike knew he couldn’t last any longer. He felt the burning sensation in his groin and let his head fall back as he pumped his release out.

 

The young woman couldn’t take her eyes off of the vampire’s cock as string after string of cum shot out of it onto his belly and hands. She’d never actually watched a man ejaculate before, not this closely. It was the most erotic sight her eyes had ever beheld.

 

As his orgasm abated, Spike was finally able to lift his head back up and watch the Slayer. He was keen on seeing her reaction. He watched her pull her hand from her knickers--from the rate of her heartbeat, it was obvious she still hadn’t found her own release--and move towards him. Curiosity rendering him immobile, he just sat there, still covered in his own ejaculate, and watched her approach him. She held out her fingers to him, tracing them along his lips until he took them in his mouth, licking her juices off them. At this rate, he thought to himself, he wouldn’t have any trouble getting hard again in about... oh, now.

 

Buffy looked down and saw that the vampire’s erection was returning. Smiling devilishly, she said “that’s my vampire” before taking his left hand in hers and bringing it up to her mouth.

 

The sight of the Slayer meticulously licking his hands, thighs and, well, everywhere else, clean had him as hard as he had been before. He could easily have used the bedsheets to clean himself off--it wasn’t as if they had no other option--but the thought that she wanted to minister to him did more than make him hard. It warmed somewhere deep inside of him--added fuel to a spark that had laid dormant for over a century.

 

But he was being selfish, now, wasn’t he? Being on the receiving end of such wonderful naughtiness, and the Slayer still squirming around waiting for her own release. Gonna have to fix that, mate--show her that you can give as well as you can receive.

 

Spike’s moans of pleasure as she licked him clean nearly drove Buffy to her own release. God, he tasted good. Never in a million years would she have imagined herself so eagerly ingesting semen. But then again, never had she seen herself having sex with Spike. The demon in him called out to her Slayer, leading her to do things that would definitely have been out of character for Buffythegirl. She felt his hands slide down her back as she leaned in to swirl her tongue in his navel. Long cool fingers played along the edge of her panties before pushing underneath their cotton fabric, moving down to knead the soft flesh of her rear.

 

When the Slayer took his hardened cock in her mouth, the bleached vampire could hold out no longer. As much fun as it was to be catered to, he felt like he was missing out on half the fun. Placing his hands on her head, he stopped her motions. “Buffy luv, stop for a sec...”

 

The young woman sat back on her knees, eyebrows bunched in curiosity. Since when did Spike turn down oral sex? She watched him slide further down onto the bed, into a lying position. On an attempt to move over to give him some space, she found herself held in place.

 

“No, pet. Don’t move away.” He placed a hand on her hip and tugged lightly. “Turn around, facing away from me.”

 

Although she had no clear idea of what the vampire was trying to achieve, she did as he instructed. Turning around and facing the other bed, she wondered what the heck this was going to accomplish.

 

That was until he began to pull her back towards him.

 

Spike inhaled deeply as her quim floated just a few inches above his nose. He found it strange that after everything they’d done in between the sheets, this wasn’t one of them. Tilting his head up and dragging his tongue along her wet cleft, he sighed. Yup. This was what he’d been missing. When he noticed that the Slayer remained immobile above him, obviously unsure of what to do next, he very gently nudged her back down towards his hard-on. In a calm, patient voice, he simply instructed her to proceed as she’d been doing before he stopped her.

 

Buffy’s body shivered at the dual sensation of Spike’s tongue in her pussy and his cock in her mouth. The act itself was so intimate to her--both man and woman giving and receiving at once, both deriving pleasure from an act that seemed so selfless. It was a good thing that the vampire had a good hold on her hips, because she wasn’t sure if she could rely on her thigh muscles to keep her upright.

 

As much as she was turned on--God, the things that man could do with his tongue, Buffy’s need to feel him inside of her was greater. In a swift move, she pivoted and placed herself mirror-image above her lover. Her lips descended upon his at the same time as her pussy swallowed his cock. She could taste herself on his lips and his tongue, and the pungent tang of her juices only increased her excitement as she slid up and down his hard shaft.

 

“Cor, pet. You’re gonna burn me...” Spike could hardly keep up with the whirlwind above him. His hands were everywhere at once--massaging her breasts, rolling her nipples, following the soft curves of her hips and ass... He held her tightly to him as he felt her stiffen and her inner muscles clamp down on him. When her lips broke away from his, only to take in a silent gasp, he let himself follow her over the precipice. Endurance be damned, he’d rather be in the moment. Not for the first time since he’d paired up with the Slayer, Spike felt the inner stirrings of William try to push through. He knew he was pussy-whipped when he fought the feelings less and less.

 

Rolling onto her side, Buffy let out a deep breath. “Wow. That was... different.” Her eyes twinkled as she looked over at the equally out-of-breath vampire. “Any more of those little surprises up your sleeve?”

 

“Got a century’s worth to share, luv. We’ve still got lots to go over.” He paused, waiting to catch his breath. “But maybe in a while, though.”

 

Both blondes couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that. They were both knackered and weren’t so proud that they couldn’t admit it. After all, it had to be a really good shag to wear out a vampire and Slayer...

 

***

 

Morning saw the two lovers preparing to leave the cabin. They didn’t have the option of waiting until nightfall because of Buffy’s promise to help her mom with the Christmas dinner preparations. As much as they would have liked to stay there for another day, they knew they had to get moving.

 

Standing outside the cabin, snow falling delicately around them, they took a moment to stand silently in each other’s presence. In less than two months they had gone from bitter enemies to lovers. It was more than that, though, and they both realized that. People who were simply lovers wouldn’t change the way they think and act for one another; they wouldn’t be satisfied with just being in each other’s presence.

 

It was more than the sex and that was much, much more than either Spike or Buffy had bargained for that night in the cave, what seemed like so long ago.

 

“Well, pet--time to head out if we want to get you home to your mum on time.” The vampire opened the passenger door for the Slayer, proper Victorian manners shining through his tough outer appearance. Before Buffy had time to sit down, though, he stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. “Look, Buffy. If I haven’t said so yet, thanks.”

 

She nodded, not needing to ask him why he had thanked her. This weekend had been about leaving their pasts behind them, about starting anew. And although they were both eager, they were more afraid than they’d admit. There were so many obstacles--his reputation, her friends--that would test their mettle.

 

But for Buffy, it was a change she was eager to embrace.

 

“So. What’re you doing tomorrow? Cause if Mom’s gonna give in to her usual habits, she’s going to cook enough for an army...”

 

Please Review this fic!


Author’s Note: Please excuse the fact that I’ve taken a liberty with vampire lore in my allowing Spike a daytime walk. The scene was embedded in my brain from the beginning, and I just couldn’t part with it.

 


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