Part Four ~ Someone to Watch Over Me

Word from Willy the Snitch had it that there was a new nest of vampires in the burned out warehouse that had once been home to Spike, Drusilla, and later Angelus. Willie could be a traitorous liar, but with the proper incentive- such as a hard right to the chin- he occasionally came through with some truthful info.

It was nearing sunrise as Buffy stepped carefully through the window and onto the catwalk that circled above the main floor. It was a decent-sized nest. She counted twelve vamps, most of them fledglings. The leader, a female with stringy red hair and an extremely loud and obnoxious voice, wasn’t very old herself.

Staring down at them as they snapped and snarled and fought amongst themselves, Buffy made a eww face. The differences between these vampires and those from the Aurelian line were mind-boggling. She wondered idly what Giles would have to say about that.

The fighting was settling down as they all began to find places to sleep away the daylight. She decided to give them an hour and then she would get with the staking. Sleepy vampires equaled dust. It was the best way she’d found to take out a nest. Not that she couldn’t handle a dozen fledglings on her own, but why over-exert herself if there was no need?

Buffy stifled a yawn and blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the grittiness from lack of sleep. Her night had been a long one and she was more than ready to get the job done and find her warm bed, dreams or no dreams.

Dreams.

An all-over blush prickled her skin and she fought the urge to squirm. She knew she should be seriously wigged by the fact that she’d had the next best thing to sex with William the Bloody while she slumbered, but she couldn’t find it within herself to be even the slightest bit squicked by it all.

Angel’s spiteful comments about Spike had unnerved her, but obviously not enough to change her body’s reaction to her erotic sublimations.

There was no denying the fact that she’d been attracted to the brash, blond vampire from their first encounter in the alley behind the Bronze. With the looks and the leather and that delicious accent, he was every good girl’s fantasy of bad boy sex, even if he was a vampire. But she’d loved Angel and it was more than obvious that Spike was mad about his Drusilla, so she had firmly banished such thoughts from her mind.

Everything had gone to hell with the consummation of her relationship with Angel. The loss of his soul had sent him back into Drusilla’s faithless arms, leaving Buffy and Spike out in the cold and desperate to reclaim the loves they had lost. Was it any wonder they had found each other and hammered out that ill-fated truce?

The silence from below broke through her introspections and she moved cautiously to peek over the edge once more. All quiet on the soon-to-be-dusty front. It was time to get to work.

Buffy made her way down to the floor, her trainers not making a sound against the concrete as she crept up on the sleeping vamps. Her slayer senses were clamoring like a bitch, the ‘tinglies’ at the nape of her neck fiercer than usual, but that couldn’t be helped since she was in the presence of so many of them.

*Thump* poof! *Thump* poof! She worked her way from the outside in, fighting to keep from sneezing from the effects of so much dust.

Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twel-.

The stringy-haired female vamp leapt down on her from a pile of rusty machinery. Buffy cursed as she rolled with the impact, bringing her legs up and pushing the snapping creature up and over her head. Her stake clattered to the concrete and spun away tauntingly.

Dammit!

She jumped to her feet in time to avoid having her head smashed by a twisted metal bar. What the hell?

Where the thirteenth vamp had been hiding she had no clue, but he was there now. Big as life and twice as ugly as his mate, the obvious leader circled her and gnashed his teeth.

“Slayer! You’ll pay for destroying my dynasty!” he roared.

“Dynasty? Gimme a break! Who do you think you are, the Master?” she taunted. “Talk about delusions of grandeur.”

The female was trying to circle around behind her and Buffy moved quickly to keep her back to the soot-smeared wall. Miss Overachiever decided to give it a shot anyway and ended up with ‘Nike’ stamped on her forehead as she slammed into the slayer’s raised foot.

Enraged, Big Ugly rushed her and she somersaulted neatly over his head. While he was looking frantically around for her, Buffy ran and slid across the oily floor. Palming her lost stake, she climbed nimbly up the pile of machinery the female vamp had jumped from earlier.

She hadn’t taken into account the oil that caked the soles of her shoes. Her feet slipped and there was just enough time to squeak ‘oh shit!’ before she fell, landing heavily on her back and knocking the wind completely out of her. The back of her head hit the concrete, causing stars to dance behind her eyelids.

Struggling to stay conscious, Buffy felt Big Ugly leap triumphantly on top of her while the female grabbed her arms and held them down over her head.

“Who has delusions of grandeur now, Slayer?” Big Ugly hissed as he neared her throat.

Globs of saliva dripped from his yellowed fangs onto her skin. Buffy shuddered and bucked frantically in an attempt to dislodge him. God! she prayed desperately. Don’t let me go out like this!

“Hey! Save some for me, baby,” purred the female, her yellow eyes gleaming as she stared down at their captive.

“You got her hands, stupid,” he scoffed. “Bite her wrist. We’ll both suck her dry.”

In spite of her determination not to react, the pain of the dual penetration of their fangs ripped a scream from Buffy’s throat. Oh, God, this is it! she thought as the darkness whirled dizzily around her.

A blood-curdling howl of outrage filled the warehouse, startling the two vampires from their kill. Both looked up in time to see a pale blur coming at them before it slammed into them, knocking them from the supine form of the slayer.

They never had a chance.

The female was first, her head simply twisted off. Big Ugly made a valiant attempt to fight back, but his efforts were wasted on the enraged creature that tore into him with fists and fangs.

Buffy’s vision faded in and out as she fought to sit up. Between the two of them, she had lost a lot of blood very quickly and she was so weak she could barely lift her head. She tried to force her eyes to focus on the two combatants but all she could see was a vignette of blurry white laced with ribbons of blood red.

The frantic screams of pain from the big vampire finally stopped. Buffy flinched back as the remaining figure approached her and knelt with preternatural grace at her side. She could feel him sniffing at her and heard the confused growls that rumbled forth.

Strong hands lifted her and her head fell limply back to expose the ragged holes in her throat. The puzzled growls turned to savage snarls. Another vampire then, she thought woozily. Must have come to finish the job. She tensed, bracing herself for the pain of that final bite.

Instead, she felt the cool roughness of his tongue as he lapped at her torn flesh, carefully tending her neck before moving to her wrist. An odd purring sound burst from him as he laved her wounds; the sound both soothing and disturbingly familiar.

Buffy gathered her scattered wits and lifted her head, forcing her heavy eyelids up. His face swam into focus. In spite of the ridged brow and golden eyes, she knew that face. A harsh gasp tumbled from her lips, giving breathless voice to his name before the darkness claimed her.

“Spike.”

The bed coverings were musty and smelled strongly of soot, but the pillow beneath her aching head was soft. In spite of her short nap, she still felt sluggish and weak. Buffy moaned softly as she tried to sit up.

A soft, warning growl floated out of the shadows at her movements and she glanced around warily, hazel eyes wide as she sought to pierce the darkness surrounding the bed.

Had she been hallucinating? Extreme blood loss had a way of messing with a person’s mind. No. No way possible. It couldn’t be. There was no way she could have seen… Whatever she thought she saw before she passed out. It had to be a vision. A mirage. Or plain old wishful thinking spurred by the intensity of her dreams of a certain blond vampire.

Then who had saved her? Who had brought her here, deep inside the belly of the burned out warehouse, and laid her out on this bed? She could feel eyes on her and the tell-tale signature that screamed ‘vampire’ itching furiously at the base of her neck.

She tried to quash the tremor of fear that tripped up and down her spine. She was alone in the dark with what was obviously a feral vampire, feeling limp as a dishrag and without even a stake for comfort.

The growling had ceased when she stopped moving around on the bed and now the only sounds she could hear were her own strained respirations and the panicky thumping of her heart. Keeping her movements slow, she cautiously edged her way to the side of the bed facing away from where she’d heard the earlier warning noises.

The instant that her toe touched the floor, she blanched. This time the growls were harsher and came from right behind her. With a startled cry of fright she threw herself back into the middle of the bed and whirled to face her would-be attacker.

He stepped from the stygian darkness, an isolated beam of diffused light from some broken window high above them creating a deceptively angelic halo around his white blond hair.

“S-Spike?” Her voice sounded unnaturally loud. In truth; it was the barest whisper of breath that she struggled to force over her taut vocal chords.

Not a stitch of clothing hid the marble perfection of his hide as he stood proudly before her. The tawny eyes that met hers unflinchingly did so without a spark of recognition in their depths. His demon never flickered, the heavily ridged forehead, slightly snubbed nose, and wicked sharp fangs keeping to the forefront as he glared at her distrustfully.

He prowled silently forward until he stood right beside the bed, his sleek muscles tensed to leap if she made the slightest movement that could be construed as aggressive.

Being confronted with so much naked male flesh was disconcerting to say the least. Buffy tried to keep her gaze fixed intently on his face, but the temptation was far too irresistible. The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as her eyes drifted downward.

Gah!

The man was hiding some serious muscular definition under all that black leather! No wonder he was so lethally graceful when he fought, there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t honed to perfection. Her eyes flitted from broad shoulders and defined pecs to the rippling muscles of a truly mouth-watering abdomen. They lingered on the tasty indentation of his naval before following the faint dusting of curly hair that pointed the way to his…

Ohmigod...

Her one night of passion with Angel hadn’t allowed for a lot of mutual exploration of their bodies, let alone up close and personal knowledge of his body below the waist. She’d seen pictures before, of course, but nothing compared to her first sight of the real thing.

Even at rest she found it beautiful. Pale as a slice of moonlight in a nest of honey brown curls. She studied him carefully, eyes widening as it seemed to feel the weight of her gaze and began to visibly stir and lengthen. A low, purring sound, so obviously different from the others he’d made, rumbled through his chest.

Buffy blushed every shade of red on the spectrum and lifted her eyes.

She waited with nervous expectation for him to spout some typically smart-assed Spike-ism that would result in her complete and utter humiliation.

Nothing. Only that same, almost suggestive purring sound once more.

“Spike?” she queried nervously. “Are you… in there?”

His head tilted at the sound of her voice, saffron colored eyes narrowing as he leaned over her. He made a harsher noise of reprimand when she shied away from him. His hands found her arms in a bruising grip as he buried his face in her hair and inhaled a deep, deliberate breath of her scent.

Okay, major wigginess with all the Buffy sniffing. Maybe she was a little slow on the uptake, what with the massive blood loss and all, but something was seriously wrong with the former bane of her existence.

“Do you know who I am, Spike? Slayer? Ringing any bells?”

Judging from the reaction she got, he at least knew what that word meant. His head jerked up and he snarled in her face.

Things to remember; don’t remind feral vampire of her status as killer of his kind.

In spite of her fear, Buffy softened her voice cajolingly. “Hey Spike. It’s Buffy. Remember; Buffy?”

More grunts and growls. He was obviously getting impatient that she couldn’t understand him.

“Well, I’m sorry that I don’t speak ‘grrr’!” she huffed, losing what little patience she possessed.

Without any warning, he snagged the hem of her top and whisked it over her head.

“Hey!” Buffy couldn’t stifle the shout of indignation as the shirt went flying without regard over his shoulder.

“Spike!” she shrieked as he broke the front clasp of her bra and dragged the straps from her shoulders. “What the hell are you doing?”

She swatted at his tenacious hands and aimed a punch at his jaw that he dodged easily. Her strength was coming back, but she was nowhere near being a match for him. She was suddenly truly afraid that he might finish the job the other vampires had started.

Ignoring her ineffectual slaps, he bound both her small hands in one of his. Climbing up on the bed, he pinned them above her head and quickly subdued her kicking legs by flinging a heavy thigh across them. Once he had her fully restrained he merely lay there, waiting patiently for her to tire herself out.

Which didn’t take long. By the time she gave in, she was drenched with sweat and tears streaked her flushed cheeks. The fear in her eyes was palpable as she stared up at him.

For the first time since she had awakened in his presence, he allowed the demon to fade away and reveal his human features. A frown drew his eyebrows together and he shook his head slowly. He leaned down, nuzzling and purring into the softness of her neck until his lips came to rest against the shell of her ear.

“Shhh.” The sibilant whisper against her ear made her skin prickle pleasurably. His free hand was in her hair, petting her; the long fingers sifting through the tangles until it framed her face in shades of gold.

Spike kissed a path from her ear to the corner of her mouth, his tongue coming out to tease at the trembling seam of her lips until she opened her mouth to its invading coolness.

All of her fear evaporated in the face of that steamy, toe-curling kiss. A tug at her still imprisoned wrists brought immediate release and she brought her hands up to curve over his shoulders.

He kissed her with the same fervent intensity he’d shown in her dream, pausing only to allow her a quick gasp for much needed air before launching his assault on her senses once more.

When his hand found the waistband of her track pants, she made no move to impede him; instead she lifted her hips from the mattress to aide in their swift removal. Another quick sweep of his hand down her legs and her white cotton thong joined them on the floor.

Giving her no chance to shield her nudity, his mouth left hers to nibble a path to her breasts. He nipped and nuzzled at them almost playfully before drawing one hard peak into his mouth. Lips, teeth, and tongue all came into play as he worried at one taut nub before moving to the other.

Buffy arched into his mouth, tiny sounds of frustration tumbling from her lips as she dug her nails into his hard shoulders and left red half-moons to decorate his pale skin. He obviously enjoyed the sting as she dug in, groaning his pleasure around a mouthful of her nipple and grinding his cock into her hip.

His hand swept over the soft skin of her tummy, fingers tracing her belly button before sliding down to tangle in the soft curls shielding her sex. When she instinctively tightened her thighs against him, Spike lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at her with a domineering grunt.

She couldn’t say how she understood what he wanted of her, no more than she could explain why she was lying here with him and not fighting like a wildcat to be free. Her body understood that imperious tone, though, and responded accordingly as she spread herself submissively beneath him.

Spike purred his approval of her actions and bent over to claim her lips in another deep, wet kiss as his fingers probed her cleft and spread the copious moisture up and down her slit before finding the hard nub of her clit and rubbing it with firm but lazy circles.

Gasping against his devouring mouth, Buffy lifted her hips eagerly upwards, seeking more from those talented fingers. He didn’t disappoint. His thumb continued to swirl around her clitoris as he slipped his two middle fingers inside the dripping heat of her tight sheath.

“Spike!” Buffy cried out his name as the unexpected intensity of her first orgasm slammed into her, making her body twist and dance beneath his. It had barely abated when another was upon her and they continued in an endless wave of pleasure.

He kept at it, refusing to stop until she collapsed bonelessly back into the musty mattress, her breath a harsh rasp in her throat. She opened passion glazed eyes to see him kneeling between her sprawled legs; one hand smoothing the top of her thigh with a feather light touch as the other slowly stroked his burgeoning erection. He stared at her expectantly, his eyes almost black with desire as he waited.

Buffy was aware of her body once more giving in to his unspoken demands as she let her head fall to one side, willingly baring her neck to him. She didn’t flinch as he moved over her, his lips and tongue eagerly tracing her pulsing jugular while he used his hand to stroke his dick up and down the length of her pussy, coating it with her creamy moisture. He aligned himself with her entrance just as he found the fading purple blemish on her neck.

His demon surged forth once more and cock and fangs slid simultaneously into her. Buffy screamed as the consuming pleasure-pain swept her away, her body quaking beneath him.

Spike held himself still within her as her blood flowed over his tongue, grunting ecstatically against her flesh. After taking a few shallow pulls, he lifting his head and staring down at her. When Buffy turned her stunned eyes back up to his, he spoke his first word.

“Mine.”

NEXT~