Lessons Learned

Darkness had fallen over the bucolic little town of Sunnydale. Families had retired behind the locked doors of their homes for the night, leaving only the swish of lawn sprinklers and the chirp of crickets to disturb the quiet evening. At a small park on the edge of town, the slides still held the warmth of the sun on surfaces polished bright by small bottoms and the swings stirred eerily in the faint breeze.

The roar of a powerful engine shattered the silence and with the squeal of rubber on pavement, the Welcome to Sunnydale sign was obliterated. The big car idled like some panting, futuristic beast surrounded by lethal splinters of wood.

Swinging open the door, the driver planted booted feet solidly on the street and emerged with a smug creak of treasured leather. He moved slowly and methodically, making his way towards the front of the car without sparing a glance for the desecrated sign. He paused and lifted his head, inhaling deeply of the night air before expertly flicking open his Zippo and delicately touching flame to the unlit cigarette clamped between his lips. 

Ahhh. There it was, faint but still enough to tantalize his taste buds with the unique tang that whispered ‘slayer’. It was tainted by the heavier, musty odor of his grandsire. Spike made a face. So, the great mick was still hovering around the chit. Didn’t surprise him overly much. Angelus had always had a powerful yen for petite, green-eyed blondes.

Her signature was only a faint tickle along his spine, which told him it had been several days since she had passed through the area. No matter. Her heady fragrance was as familiar to him as the weight of the beloved leather resting on his shoulders. He would find her.

Sucking in a deep draught of nicotine, Spike gave a fangy grin.

“Home sweet home,” he drawled. 

~*~*~

It was so hard, sometimes.

Take now, for instance. Willow was looking at her with her cute little quirky face and babbling about Angel missage, while Xander was flinging himself around the dance floor, a danger to himself and every other person brave enough to get close to him.

Sometimes, it was their very innocence that annoyed her to the point of screaming. And if it wasn’t her friends driving her crazy, it was a certain, dark-haired vampire. The one that hadn’t stopped pouting since she’d come back from her visit with her father in LA.

Absence certainly hadn’t inspired her heart to grow fonder. She was pretty much fed up with Angel’s whole mysterious vibe and the way he kept her constantly off balance emotionally. She was beyond frustrated with the way he kept avoiding anything remotely sexual between them.

Just last night they had been patrolling together. The more demonic denizens of Sunnydale had been out in force, and after one particularly grueling battle, Buffy hadn’t been able to resist. All that slaying had her motor revving. So, she had leapt into Angel’s arms and began kissing him passionately.

It had taken a few moments for her to realize that none of her ardor was being reciprocated.

At all.

In fact, Angel looked downright impatient with her actions as he pried her hands from his hair and plopped her back on her feet. After straightening his shirt and running a hand cautiously over his coif, he had proceeded to lecture her on being easily distracted and putting the both of them in danger.

To say she had been mortified by his casual attitude towards her advances was an understatement. Even now, the more she thought about it, the madder she got.

Dancing. Dancing was of the good. Dancing was just enough of a distraction from the evil inner Buffy moppet that Cordy claimed was in dire need of corporal punishment. The inner moppet that grew more and more frustrated as the days passed. 

She was playing a part and it was wearing her down. They all thought it was dying at the hands of the Master for those few minutes that was bothering her, but the truth was it went back further than that. Back to a night at the Bronze just days after her arrival when a bleached blonde had paced a tight circle around her, the impudent flicker of his tongue rough against her throat as his smoky voice breathed harsh in her ear.

It was insanity. She had only met him once, had barely exchanged a handful of cryptic words with him, but she couldn’t banish him from her thoughts. She had dreamed of him that night and nearly every night after. Wicked, sinful dreams that left her panting with unfulfilled lust amid the damp, twisted sheets of her virginal bed. The finer details were blurry. She couldn’t remember the color of his eyes and hadn’t touched him at all, but the feel of him moving against her, of his plundering her untried body and his fangs at her throat was so vivid that she was unable to sleep for hours after.

Whenever Giles questioned her about slayer dreams, her mind would turn inevitably to the erotic porn-fest that her nights had become. She would become flustered and usually made some hurried excuse to escape his version of The Inquisition.

Buffy shrugged off her discomfiture and tried to lose herself in the beat of the music. Tonight was supposed to be about relaxing, forgetting about slayery duties and disturbingly erotic dreams and just being a teenager.

The maddening itch on the back of her neck soon told her different, and the likelihood of vampires in the vicinity was confirmed when a vaguely familiar voice demanded the phone to call the police.

“There’s some big guy out there trying to bite somebody.”

With a growl of frustration, she whirled away from her friends and started out the back door.

A girl just couldn’t get a break some days.

*~*~*

They were blue.

His eyes.

Crystal blue and sparkling with mirth at her obvious confusion.

He sauntered from the shadows, clapping in mocking approval of her performance. The sound of his hands coming together seemed too loud in the tense silence that bloomed between them in the alley.

“Nice work, luv.”

Ignoring Willow’s shrill ‘eep’ of distress, Buffy dared to take a few hesitant steps in his direction, her eyes greedily hoarding all the small details she hadn’t thought to seek out during their first encounter.

“Who are you?” she asked, fighting to control the quaver in her voice. God, he was too gorgeous. It should be illegal that something so beautiful had to be considered prey.

“You don’t remember me? I’m crushed, Slayer.”

Smug bastard.

Buffy was closer to him than her friends now, but her voice still dropped to a more intimate octave when she spoke. “Oh, I remember you. Still doesn’t tell me who you are or why you came back.” 

He moved nearer, hips leading the way in the cockiest swagger she’d seen on a man to date. That annoying little smirk stayed in place until mere inches lay between them, then it melted away. He sucked in a deep breath and those beautiful eyes flickered topaz for an instant before he spoke.

“You want to know who I am? Ask your great hulking guard dog. If you want to know why I came back…you’ll find out on Saturday.”

“What happens on Saturday?” She could vaguely remember Giles babbling about some big vampire holiday thingie that was coming up, but of course she hadn’t really been paying attention to him. And guard dog? What…oh. Angel. Wait a sec. How did he know Angel?

Before she could ask, he crowded close to her, so close that she had to fight a wave of dizziness as his scent washed over her. Smoke and leather and a whiff of something earthy and wildly exciting to her.

“I kill you.”

It took a moment for his harsh words to register, and when they did she couldn’t hide the wounded look in her eyes. What the hell was wrong with her? Vampire, Buffy. Keep forgetting that and you’ll end up as his entrée.

She was so bemused by his threat that she didn’t even see him move. One second they were standing almost nose to nose, the next he had vamped and grasped her forearms with punishing force. He whipped her around and up against the metal doors she had bounced off of earlier, pinning her in place with a hand at her throat.

Xander’s shriek of fear rivaled her own surprised squeak of fright. Both he and Willow started towards them in a misguided attempt to rescue her. A savage growl and feral yellow eyes froze them in their tracks.

“Don’t, guys. Stay back,” Buffy rasped out. He wasn’t squeezing hard, but it was enough to alter her voice. She met those otherworldly eyes without flinching, but she couldn’t stop the shudder that clamored up her spine when he kneed her thighs apart and slid between them with practiced ease. Her loins exploded in a blaze of heat as he ground the hard bulge of his cock into her crotch. “Thought you said Saturday, big guy,” she managed to gasp out.

God, she hoped that long coat of his was doing a good enough job of hiding what he was doing from her helplessly gawking friends. The last thing she wanted to do with the rest of her evening was tell Giles why she had allowed what was obviously a master vampire to hump her.

“I did.” His answering chuckle vibrated right through her. With a barely audible grinding noise, the bumpies and golden eyes were gone and she was lost once more in an ocean of blue. The scarred eyebrow arched sardonically at the faint moan that escaped her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do this…does it?”

And then he kissed her.

Firm, cool lips closed over hers. The point of his tongue slicked aggressively over the seam of her lips and she sucked in a shocked breath, her mouth falling open under the onslaught.

Oh, God…his lips…and he was still thrusting steadily against her…undulating…hitting her just right…right there…that spot…again…and again…oh… oh yes…and she was gonna…gonna…

He tore his lips from hers and she caught a flash of gold in his eyes just seconds before he buried his face in her shoulder and sank his fangs into her vulnerable flesh. The world exploded in a shower of sparks and Buffy screamed out her release right before he slammed into her one last time and growled his own climax out around the teeth latched at her neck.

Aftershocks rippled through her as he pulled away just enough to lave the raw edges of the wounds with his tongue. He gave her only a few precious moments to calm herself before he released her and stepped back. She expected to see gloating satisfaction on his face when she lifted her eyes to meet his, but instead she found uncertainty and a nervous confusion that mirrored her own.

Mesmerized, she watched as he lifted a thumb and swiped a bit of her blood from the corner of his mouth. He stared at the blood-smeared digit thoughtfully before lifting it to his mouth and sucking it clean. His eyes rolled closed and the look on his face was pure ecstasy as he relished the taste of her. Buffy felt her thighs seize in reaction to his obvious pleasure.

He recovered much faster than she was able to, and the cocky mask was firmly back in place when he hauled her against him and gave her one last hard kiss before turning to leave.

“Until Saturday, luv,” he quipped as he swept down the alley in a swirl of black leather and attitude.

Buffy stared after him until he disappeared into the shadows, her body still thrumming from his touch. A delicate cough broke through her daze and she turned to find her friends gawping at her.

Great.

So much for keeping anything from Giles.

*~*~*

He’d left Dru in their room- hopefully eating the supper he’d brought her- on the pretense of joining the others for chanting and cleansing. Instead he found himself on the roof, sprawled out on his back and contemplating the constellations while chain smoking and knocking back whiskey like water.

His mind should have been on his dark princess and finding the ritual that would bring her back to him. Her moments of lucidity were few and far between these days, and she was steadily growing weaker. He had to practically force her to feed and she was driving him to distraction with her attempts to walk into the daylight to pick daisies that didn’t exist. It was even worse when she turned on him, spitting and clawing in a fit of rage, demanding to know why he was keeping her from her precious ‘daddy’ and ‘grandmum’.

Instead, he found himself reliving his encounter with the slayer.

Spike groaned as his cock surged to life. The whole purpose of tonight’s mission had been to find the girl, test her fighting abilities with that twit of a fledge, toss out a few threats, and then leave. Humping her like a rabid dog in a smelly alley certainly hadn’t been part of the plan, nor had he meant to bite her.

So much for his carefully laid plans.

He could lie to himself. He’d been doing it for years with Drusilla. Lay the blame on the fact that it had been years since he’d been able to slake his baser needs with his sire’s willing body. Which was true, but self-control had never been an issue for him until his trip to the Hellmouth last fall. Since then, the little slayer had become his private obsession. Might have known that rushing to do Dru’s bidding would end up fucking up his well-ordered unlife. Now his dreams were plagued by shiny golden hair and luminous hazel eyes grown slumberous with passion as he pounded his way between her smooth golden thighs and sank his fangs into the tender column of her throat.

Scarcely a night went by now that he didn’t bolt upright in the bed he shared with his sire, eyes wild and body screaming for release. It was a bloody miracle his hand hadn’t been melded to his dick as much as he’d taken to wanking off to relieve the pressure brought on by his slayer-induced nightmares.

How in the hell was he supposed to resist when he was dizzied by the scent of her arousal and captivated by the lush curve of her lips? The moment he’d laid hands on her tonight he’d been hopelessly buggered. One touch and he’d been panting after her like a hound chasing a bitch in heat.

A snort of disgust escaped him as the warning itch of the rising sun joined the throb in his loins. He flung the empty whiskey bottle over the edge of the roof with a snarl and then reached down to undo his belt. His cock sprang into his waiting hand, rock hard and nearly purple with his need.

Might as well get this over with, he thought bitterly and began to move his hand with practiced ease. 

*~*~*

Tattletales!

Buffy sat on the edge of the table, shoulders curled defensively inward and a mutinous pout on her face. All three if them were staring at her with varying expressions. Giles was buffing his glasses to a blinding sheen. Willow was still an alarming shade of crimson and there was an annoying twitch at the corner of her mouth. Every few minutes, Xander would give an all-over shudder and then make the most irritating noise she’d ever heard.

“Uh-buh-buh-bub. Ubbah.”

There. He was doing it again. Buffy was giving some serious thought to getting up and gently snapping his neck when Giles cleared his throat in a brave attempt to break the stunned silence.

“Perhaps he went by another name in…times past.”

William.

Buffy wisely kept this bit of information to herself. The explanations about how she’d come by this bit of knowledge would be long and involved. All she wanted to do was get out of here, do a quick patrol, and then head home to her bed.

“Well, whoever he is, we’ll need all the help we can get come this Saturday,” Miss Calendar chimed in. Buffy found it odd that the computer teacher was the only one that wasn’t looking at her like she’d sprouted a third head and cloven hooves.

Strange.

“Well, he can’t be any worse than any other creature you’ve faced,” Giles ruminated aloud, popping his glasses back on his nose.

“He’s worse.”

And my night is complete. Buffy fought the urge to roll her eyes as Angel continued. Yay for Mr. Cryptic Guy.

“Once he starts something he doesn't stop until everything in his path is dead,” Angel intoned with a dramatic air of foreboding.

“Hmm. So, he’s thorough, goal-oriented.”

Letting Xander’s quippy reply to Angel’s comment sail right over her head, the slayer made sure her hair covered the raw bite marks on her neck and turned to face the dark-haired vampire. She couldn’t help but wonder how much of their conversation he had overheard while he hung back, lurking in the shadows.

“We were at the Bronze earlier. Thought you said you might show?”

Angel’s facial expression barely flickered. “You said you weren’t sure if you were going.”

“I was being-” Her intended lecture on the intricacies of dating in the 20^th century was brutally cut-off by a madly grinning Xander.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, dead-boy. The Buffster found herself another fangy pet to swap spit and bump uglies with,” he gloated. “Sorry, dude. You snooze, you lose.”

“What?” Wounded puppy-dog eyes turned in her direction. “Buffy, what does he mean?”

Her glare alone should have fried him to a crisp, but Xander played oblivious to Buffy’s frantic shushing motions. It wasn’t every day he got to lord it over the undead competition for the slayer’s favors. He was enjoying himself immensely at Angel’s expense.

“Yeah, this new guy- Spike, is it? He seems to be quite the stud. Had our little Buffy up against the wall and panting just a few minutes after they met.”

“Xander!” Buffy’s humiliated screech was followed by a ringing slap upside the boy’s head.

Giles rolled his eyes, completely fed up with their actions. “Uh, we do have slightly more important matters to discuss.”

Ignoring the pleading looks Angel was sending in her direction, Buffy struggled to calm herself and concentrate on the subject at hand. “Yeah, like keeping my mom away from Principal Snyder tomorrow night?”

“And not dying on Saturday.” Miss Calendar offered a sympathetic smile when Buffy gave her an irritated scowl.

Giles was paging through one of the dustier tomes in his vast collection. “Angel, do you know if this Spike fellow goes under any other name?” he queried.

Silence greeted his question and the library doors swished shut behind the departing vampire. Xander rubbed his aching head and muttered about collars and bells while Buffy fought the urge to chase Angel down. She knew instinctively where he was headed and the temptation to follow him was strong, but she managed to show admirable restraint and return to her perch on the table’s edge.

“So, Giles,” she said, her narrowed gaze daring any of them to comment on Angel’s swift departure. “Got anything else on this vampire rave I’m supposed to bust up?”

*~*~*

He had been beyond pissed. Pissed and in some major pain from the huge lump on the back of his head, courtesy of the girl’s tigress of a mother.

“You get the hell away from my daughter!”

Beating a hasty retreat had seemed the wisest choice at the time. Didn’t mean he had to be happy with said choice. He had been close…so bloody close that he could almost taste all that powerful elixir pouring down his throat once more. It was a drug, her blood. One taste and he was an ardent junkie.

After exchanging a heated glance with the stunned slayer, he’d made his ignominious exit through the broken window and high-tailed it back to the factory to nurse both his wounds and his battered pride.

Drusilla’s attempts to comfort him were appreciated and went a long way towards soothing his irritation, but that still hadn’t stopped him from grabbing the evil little midget and stringing him up in a cage to meet the sunrise. Lay down his life for that little pisser? Not bloody likely!

Once the runt had been dealt with, Spike had taken it upon himself to ensure that his new minions knew who their new master was. Only a few had dared to protest his presumptuousness, and they had been quickly and brutally dealt with. When the dust had settled, the rest had surrendered with embarrassing speed and pledged their fealty to him. Too wound up to sleep, he had spent the day whipping them into shape and making sure that there was always someone tending to Dru.

Now it was dusk and his temper was much improved. He was feeling downright jaunty as he left the lair and set off to find a meal. If he happened upon the slayer during his wanderings, so much the better.

*~*~*~*

Several hours later, he dropped the cooling corpse that was his dinner behind a handy dumpster. He licked his lips clean and started off once more, intent on finding a nice, plump drunk for Dru. She’d become quite the finicky eater, his girl, and while she often complained that they smelled bad, the added bonus of the alcohol in their blood helped sedate her somewhat.

His meandering path took him down another dank alley and he halted as a wave of familiarity swept through him. The fates must have been guiding his footsteps tonight, because he found himself in the same alley where his confrontation with the slayer had taken place.

To his delighted astonishment, she was right there in front of him, leaning back against the same metal door he’d pinned her to just a few days before. Cool green eyes assessed him as he sauntered closer, a self-satisfied smirk twisting his lips.

“Figured you’d show up here sooner or later,” she murmured, not in the least bit threatened by his proximity.

“Hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long,” Spike replied. His hand lifted to brush back a lock of her wispy bangs, wanting his view of her gorgeous eyes to be unhindered.

Buffy shrugged but made no move to dislodge his fingers from her hair. “Not really. I had to ditch someone first. Thanks to someone spilling all the juicy details of our little groiny episode, he’s been kinda overbearing and protective.”

Spike chuckled. “Angelus, I assume.”

She gave him a stern frown. “Angel,” she corrected. “And what the heck is it with you two? How do you know each other? Every time I ask him about you, I get the look of death and he storms off.”

“You mean he hasn’t dished up all the family dirt? I’m crushed. Really.” A pale, well-shaped hand splayed across his chest and he affected a wounded pout. She flicked a sleek eyebrow at him and he sighed. “Not buyin’ that, are you?”

“Not even.”

“That’s a fairly long tale, sweetness. Sure I can’t talk you into a quick snog beforehand?” he evaded hopefully, daring to move in just a tiny bit closer.

Her hand landed on the same place his own had rested, but with slightly more force and a pointy piece of wood to back her up. “Not unless you want to be on very intimate terms with the street sweeper come morning,” she denied him airily, tickling his breastbone with the stake.

He leaned forward until the lethal point pressed deeply into his flesh, eyes hooded and a smirk on his lips. “Can’t say I came here to chat about Angelus, luv.”

“So why are you here, then?”

With a few lightning fast moves, the stake clattered to the pavement and her arm was twisted behind her, forcing her up high and hard against his body. His very hard and extremely aroused body.

“Take a guess, Slayer.”

Even with the proof prodding insistently at her belly, Buffy refused to give him the satisfaction of a struggle. She held herself taut, her eyes sliding closed as he slowly bent his head and nuzzled the healing bite mark from the other night. His soft laugh sent a burst of cool air over flesh dampened by his wayward tongue and she couldn’t help the tremor of reaction that rushed over her skin. Her inner slayer might be going haywire over the fact that a vampire was lipping his way up and down her neck, but her teenage hormones were doing a helluva job of beating it down.

“I came here…for you,” he clarified. The rough promise in his voice sent delicious chills racing over her skin.

“To…ah! To kill me, right?” she countered, a breathy sigh escaping her as he found the hot spot behind her left ear. A slow burn had started low in her belly and it intensified with each stroke of his tongue. He still held her to him with her arm behind her, but his grip had loosened and his free hand was busy undoing the buttons of her blouse and pushing it aside.

“Yeah.” But there was more than a hint of uncertainty coloring his voice. He tried again, more decisively this time. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“So, why haven’t you yet?” she breathed, rubbing his jaw caressingly with the point of her chin. “Right here at my throat, ya know. What’s stopping you?”

Spike heaved an impatient sigh and finally left off teasing the highly sensitive line of her throat. “Gee, I don’t know,” he drawled. “Maybe your incessant yapping is distracting me?”

Her hand slid over his hip and curved around the bulging denim to give him a firm squeeze. “You’re a really crappy liar,” she chided with a confident smirk of her own.

A harsh groan rumbled through him at her touch. Lifting his head, his eyes met and held hers for a beat and then he was kissing her, his mouth ravaging hers with devastating skill.

There was nothing reticent about him. Nothing the least bit shy or genteel. His lips and tongue were rough as they plundered hers with raw sensuality. There was none of the frustratingly hesitant overtures that she had come to expect from the few times Angel had deigned to reward her with kisses. The faint tint of blood from her abused lips only spurred him on, and Buffy willingly lost herself in the urgent motions of his body undulating against hers.

Spike finally realized he still had her arm pinioned behind her and let go of her wrist. Breaking off the kiss, he left her gasping for much needed air as his lips swept an icy-hot path over her collarbone to her lace-bound breasts. In a move reminiscent of their first encounter in this very alley, he crowded her up against the wall, hands gripping her thighs with bruising force as he guided them around his hips.

A door burst open behind them and the last of the Bronze employees piled out into the darkness, their loudly complaining voices startling the entwined couple into wary stillness. Too distracted with their bitching about rude customers and their slime ball of a boss, the group never noticed the blonde couple as they headed for home.

*~*~*~*

Eyeing the slowly closing door, Spike made a split second decision. Dropping the slayer unceremoniously to her feet, he ignored her squeak of indignation as he caught her hand and dragged her along behind him. They barely made it through the narrow opening before the heavy steel door clicked shut.

“What the hell?” Buffy raged in a harsh whisper. “Warn a girl next time, will you? You made me twist my ankle. God-”

A rough palm slammed over her mouth and he shoved her back into a dark corner. He made sure his black-clad length shrouding her completely from the eyes of the departing manager before replacing his hand with his mouth. There was some muffled grumbling and a rattle of keys behind them and then he was gone.

Without breaking the lip-lock he had going with the bemused slayer, Spike opened his eyes and gave the place a quick once-over before daring to move deeper into the club. Still attacking her panting mouth with his, he walked backwards, drawing her with him until his butt hit the edge of one of the pool tables. Perfect. Dropping back onto the green felt covered surface, he pulled her along with him until her slight weight was sprawled out on top of him.

Buffy was completely oblivious to the fact that her blouse was barely clinging to her shoulders and her skirt was hiked up nearly to her waist by the eager hands kneading her ass. With a tug and a tear, her lacey thong went flying and he squeezed the firm globes hard, crushing her against him as he arched his hips into her.

She shouldn’t want this- want him- so badly. Shouldn’t come undone at the mere touch of his skin against hers. But she did. She was. She felt fear, but it wasn’t fear of who and what he was. It was fear of the unknown, the typical nervousness that any virgin would feel. She had thought it would be Angel, but she had dreamed it would be Spike. Her every instinct told her it was him. It was inevitable and she surrendered without a qualm.

The fact that he was still fully clothed while she was practically naked finally penetrated her lust fogged brain and she broke away from his demanding lips, determined to remedy the situation. She scooted back onto his thighs and grasped both hands full of black cotton, tearing it open from neck to waist. She laughed softly at his stunned expression, running her hands over hard muscle and purring her appreciation. Her heated gaze never left his as she leaned down and gave the flesh above his navel a sharp nip.

“Ah! Bloody-” Spike yelped. Gold dust sparkled in his eyes. “Vixen.”

“Complaining?” she asked playfully. She batted her eyelashes at him, her expression of feigned innocence at odds with the sultry sparkle of her eyes as she trailed her fingers over his belt buckle.

“Fuck, no,” he rasped reaching eagerly for the front clasp of her bra as she busied herself with his belt and the buttons of his fly. Twin sighs of relief flowed from them as needy flesh escaped confining cloth.

Without giving her a chance to get a glimpse of the goodies she’d unwrapped, he caught her arms and dragged her back on top of him until her bare breasts were bobbing gently in front of his face. He buried his face between them with a lusty growl before anointing each with a series of impassioned licks and nibbles that had her heart racing in her chest.

Determined to satisfy her curiosity, Buffy wormed a hand between them. Skimming over his taut belly, she eagerly wrapped her fingers around his straining erection. Her vivid dreams had lent her knowledge of him, and what she lacked in expertise, she more than made up for in enthusiasm as she explored every ridge and vein with a delicate touch.

Spike left off teasing her nipples, his head falling back onto the table with an audible thud. “Oh, fucking Christ,” he hissed with a guttural moan. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around hers, guided it in a steady pumping motion. “Just like that…so good…God, Slayer…”

An unexpected twist of his body left her flat on her back, gasping at his sudden show of strength. He buried his face in her shoulder and shuddered against the unrelenting movements of her small hand. With quick, jerky movements and an irritated snarl, his coat and the remains of his shirt were shrugged off and flung away. A small sound of distress escaped her as he pulled her hand from his cock.

“Sorry, sweets. You can play more later,” he rumbled, lifting his head to blaze a path of fiery kisses along her jaw.

A low, purring moan was his answer as she reciprocated his move, ending with a sucking bite to the point of his chin. Yanking her hands free of his, she pushed his jeans over his ass and down his legs with feverish urgency. She parted her legs, humming her pleasure as his hips settled between them and she felt him, long and hard and insistent, cradled between the dew-slicked lips of her pussy. She curled her hips up, gasping as his entire length glided over the taut nub of her clit. Again. And again. And…

Oh, God, yesssss!

Spike threw his head back, his brow furrowed and nostrils flared as he exhaled a slow, hissing breath, fighting to control the demands of his body. His hips jerked as she tilted her pelvis until the very tip of him breeched her scalding channel.

Warning bells that should have been clamoring were mute. Rational thought had long since fled the scene. She’d tasted a hint of the darker side of her nature in him and now she wanted the full of it, consequences be damned. When he took his cock in hand and steadied himself at her entrance, Buffy wrapped her quivering limbs around him and held on tight as he covered her mouth with his and thrust inside her.

Her cry of pain was muffled by his kiss and she unthinkingly sank her teeth into his bottom lip. He growled in reaction to her bite, but refused to pull away. Instead he held himself still above her, giving her a few moments to get used to the feel of his invasion. Perfect.

Spike kissed her once more, purring his approval as she licked the blood from his lip in a show of contrition, then letting out a surprised yelp when she whapped him on the shoulder and glared up at him.

“Bloody-! What the fuck was that for?” he barked irately.

Buffy glared harder. “Oww?” she enunciated the word dramatically. “Did you have to be so…rough?”

“Look, pet,” he argued. “It was your first time. S’not supposed to tickle.” His eye roll of mock-disgust was completely at odds with the gentleness of his touch as he stroked his way over her belly to tangle in her damp curls. His thumb settled over her clit with maddening strokes and he grinned as she cried out and arched upwards. “This, however, IS supposed to tickle, yeah?”

She cried out as she bent and twisted beneath him, striving to get closer to those magic fingers. Sensing that she was sufficiently distracted, he began to move within her, his slow, measured thrusts creating incredible friction and slick, hot need. There was still a faint twinge of pain, but pleasure won out. Her hands clenched desperately at his shoulders and then swept over his heaving back, her nails scoring his flesh as she bucked her hips against his with every stroke.

“Fuck…so bloody perfect,” Spike murmured his approval into the hollow of her throat as she wrapped her legs around his hips, her body clenching and releasing around his girth.

He growled and arched his back, driving deeper, his eyes shut tight with bliss as he reveled in the scorching velvet heat that surrounded him. What had been intended as a hot, wild rut was rapidly escalating into something that was almost frightening in its intensity. Couldn’t think. Didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered right now but her. This girl.

Buffy trembled, his name a choked rasp falling from her lips. Nothing in her life could have prepared her for this. For him. God, he was everywhere; his hands all around her, his lips consuming her.

He braced himself up on his forearms and stared down between them, his eyes glowing yellow and his nostrils flared. She couldn’t help but look down also, her eyes following his unerringly to where they were so intimately joined. He slid smoothly in and out of her body, his thick length smeared red with the proof of her fallen purity.

When Spike lifted his eyes to hers once more, his demon had burst fully to the fore. A hard shudder rippled through her at the change in his features. What was it about him, she wondered wildly as she brought one hand up to trail shaking fingers over his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. Why did the sight of him this way have such an affect on her?

Her inquisitive digits came to rest on his mouth and tiny electric shocks shivered up her arm and down her spine as he nipped and sucked at the pads of her fingers. A ragged moan filled her throat and she tipped her head back in supplication, baring the creamy smooth column of flesh to him.

A soft, predatory growl rumbled from his chest at her gesture of submission. He fisted one hand full of her hair and jerked her head back, his tongue tasting the flavor of her jugular before his mouth voraciously consumed hers. He lost the edge of finesse as he drove into her, the forceful push of his hips sliding her supple form across the green felt. She dug her knees into his ribs as her body clenched around him, his uninhibited thrusts just what was needed to detonate the climax that had been building within her since his first touch.

It was then, feeling her inner muscles squeezing and releasing, that he sank his fangs into her throat. 

Stars burst behind her eyelids and her body quaked with the intensity of her release. Her mouth fell open in a soundless scream of ecstasy. Each shallow pull that he took brought more waves of rapture so intense that she could only sob his name in a broken voice and cling to his shoulders, tears streaking her face.

Spike was lost in Nirvana. Her sweet blood infused him with warmth and his skin prickled deliciously. Every muscle tensed in anticipation as it swept over him in a blinding rush. He howled his release against her moist flesh, driving his cock as deeply into her as he could get, his plunges weakening as he emptied himself inside her.

He collapsed against her, carefully withdrawing his fangs and closing the wounds with his tongue. He shifted to his side so he wouldn’t crush her beneath him, keeping snug inside her as he pulled her along with him. Supremely content, he lapped lazily at the fresh bite marks, smiling as she jerked and sighed with each pass of his tongue over them.

Buffy lay over him, her body soft and pliant.  “It’s funny,” she mumbled tracing arcane symbols on his chest with an idle fingertip. “Just when I think I have a handle on my life, you had to come along and screw it all up.”

He chuckled at her choice of words. “Wasn’t like I planned this, pet.”

“It just happened,” she whispered, nodding in agreement. “I know it wasn’t supposed to happen, but I-I’m not sorry. I just wish…” Blinking rapidly, she cast her eyes to the side. “I wish things could be different when we walk out of here.”

He felt everything inside him seize up at her words. Words that implied far more than what this encounter was supposed to mean to both of them. “Slayer…” he began before his tongue tangled up and he fell mute.

She knew the minute he froze that it had been a foolish thing to say, but she couldn’t take it back. Instead, she looked up at him with eyes sheened with needy tears. “Look, just lie to me and tell me that it meant something to you, okay? That I was more than just a conquest to you. Lie to me. You’re evil. You can do that, right?” she pleaded.

Spike nodded slowly, not bothering to correct her naïve assumption that it couldn’t mean anything to him. His gaze dropped to her quivering bottom lip and suddenly he was kissing her again. Ravenous. Demanding. Even a little harsh in his desperation to get that much closer to her.

He ruthlessly pushed away all thoughts of Angel and Dru. Confrontations could wait for tomorrow. This time, these last few precious hours before dawn, was for them.

*~*~*~*

Buffy let go of the last rung of the ladder leading from the roof of the Bronze and dropped to her feet. Her movements lacked their normal feline grace and she winced slightly as she straightened. Every muscle in her body was singing from over-exertion and she wanted nothing more than to drag herself home and submerge herself in a tub of hot water.

“Buffy?”

Or not.

Her eyes slid closed and her shoulders slumped in defeat as she turned to face him.

“Angel,” was all she said. She made no move to approach him, mindful of the warnings that had been whispered urgently to her just moments ago on the rooftop. When he made as if to come closer, she held up a hand to ward him off. “Just…don’t, okay?”

His broad shoulders slumped and he cast his eyes down to the pavement in dejection. “You’re still mad at me for not telling you about Spike, aren’t you?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a pointed look. “Well, let’s see. You withheld information from me, and in the process you endangered my watcher, my friends, countless parents and fellow students, and- last but not least- my mother, Angel. The only possibly redeeming thing that happened that night is that one of Spike’s minions almost ate Snyder. Almost. So, yeah, I’m a little pissed!”

Angel sighed, aiming for contrition and only managing to look slightly irritated. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I thought I could handle Spike on my own,” he mumbled.

“By using Xander for bait? Gee, Angel, that was real intelligent.” Buffy shook her head derisively. “You know, for someone with over two hundred years of living under their belt, you can be pretty dense, sometimes. What in the world were you thinking?” she demanded.

He gawked at her, stunned by her acerbic tongue. His Buffy had never, ever taken that tone with him before. “I told Xander I was sorry, and I tried to tell you about Spike earlier, but you disappeared on me. I’ve been out looking for you all night.”

Buffy had to wonder if another vampire- a blonde haired, blue eyed menace with a penchant for black leather- would have let her slip away from him as easily as Angel had earlier. A slight smile curved her lips. Something told her she wouldn’t have had the chance to slip away in the first place.

Angel mistook that winsome smile as an indication that her temper had sweetened towards him and eagerly stepped towards her again, intending to take her in his arms and soothe away any lingering doubts she might have about his devotion.

In the next instant he was nursing a stinging hand and Buffy had put even more space between them. Her angry scowl was back, too. Damn.

“Sorry.” She sounded anything but. “Not so much with the touchy-feelies tonight, I guess.” She shrugged one shoulder in a feminine shrug. “I tend to get that way when someone lies to me, even if it is by omission.”

“Look, I apologized. I made a mistake. Are you going to punish me forever?” Angel surreptitiously rubbed his sore hand. Damn, she could pack a wallop sometimes. “Look, let’s just go back to my apartment and I’ll tell you everything you need to know abo-”

“About Spike?” She cut him off brutally. “So not necessary, Angel.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. She could be so childish at times that he found it hard to believe that she was the Chosen One.

It means that I already found out all I need to know about William the Bloody.” And she had. In between bouts of the most inventively intense, toe-clenching, spine bending sex she could have ever imagined, he had answered any and all questions she had asked, even if the facts he related painted him in a less-than-rosy light.

“What? How?”

Buffy might have found his confusion amusing if the conversation weren’t treading on seriously dangerous ground. Promises had been made and secrets must be kept.

No matter how badly it hurt.

Angel was looking way too suspicious and a diversion was needed. Fast.

She opted for frustration, with a hefty side of sarcasm.

“From Giles, Angel, who do you think? What, you think I just walked up to Spike and asked him nicely?”

“Well, no I-”

“Good. Glad we got that cleared up. Can I please go home, now?” She injected so much whininess into her voice, she could swear she heard Angel’s spine shatter from the shrillness. 

“Ow!” Angel hissed softly as he left off massaging his head and rubbed vigorously at his ear. “Uh…sure, Buffy. You do that. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow and we can talk some more.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Buffy started to flounce off, only to be brought up short by his plaintive, “don’t I even get a kiss?”

She whipped around to face him, her eyes wide and incredulous. “Maybe when I’m not so mad at you would be a better idea.” She rolled her eyes, the picture of teenaged scorn. “You have a lot to learn about women, Angel.”

With a flash of golden hair, she was gone. Mystified by her strangely evasive behavior, Angel scowled after her until a still-smoldering cigarette butt bounced off the top of his head and coated him with a shower of stinging embers. Slapping frantically at his abused coif with his unbruised hand, he looked up in irritation to see a wickedly grinning Spike looking down at him.

“Spike,” he snarled an abbreviated greeting.

“Angelus,” Spike returned jovially. “Fancy us meeting in an alley. Again. It’s starting to give me ideas about you, mate.”

Angel ignored his jibe. “You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Buffy, weren’t you?”

“Eavesdropping? Please!” Spike scoffed. “As if anything you’d have to say interests me in the slightest. Was on my way home, is all, and didn’t fancy a run in with that little hellcat of a slayer.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you. Please. Feel free to leave at any time.”

“Oi! No need to take it out on me ‘cause your hot little honey wouldn’t come up off the delectable goods.” He bit his bottom lip and tilted his head as if contemplating the slayer’s charms. “She is a precious little thing, isn’t she? All…ripe and juicy. Wonder if you’ll have to drive this one insane before you can crawl between those dimpled knees, too.” Take that, you sanctimonious prick, Spike thought.

Angel bridled with impotent rage. “You lay so much as a fang on her and I’ll rip your head off!”

“Yeah. Real worried about that, Peaches.” With a glance at the rapidly lightening sky, he turned to go in a swirl of leather. Snapping his fingers as if just remembering something, he turned back. “Oh, and speaking of Dru, you might want to keep an eye out for her. The little minx has a gift for slipping away at the worst times, and lately you’re all she can blather about…Daddy.”

With a mocking salute, the blonde disappeared from his line of sight. Angel huffed his frustration at the bizarre turn his night had taken and began making his way back to his apartment. He was halfway there before he realized one little detail that had been niggling at him since Drusilla’s hell spawn had popped up on that roof.

The ladder that Buffy had been descending when he’d found her led up to that roof.

THE END

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