Day and Night

Day and Night

Buffy lay there in bed, unmoving, keeping her breathing normal to prevent whoever it was lurking about her room to suspect she still slumbered on, oblivious to their presence. Another movement sounded across her room, like scurrying footsteps, and she couldn’t help but sit up abruptly in bed, eyes scanning frantically around for some sign of the perpetrator.

The sound came closer, like it was under her bed, and she nearly tumbled off the mattress to look beneath it. Spying nothing, she sat up, then let out a scream at seeing something sitting on her bed. Scrambling to her feet, she raced to the door, just as it opened and her mother appeared.

“Buffy, what is it?” she asked, her hand flicking the switch on the wall and flooding her daughter’s bedroom with light.

“In the bed… in the covers… there’s something…” the Slayer babbled.

“Where?”

Buffy walked back to her bed, feeling oddly secure by her mother’s presence.

“There’s something there,” the blonde told her as the elder Summers lifted the covers to reveal…

Nothing.

Joyce shook out the sheets and coverlet, and still, nothing revealed itself to the Slayer’s gaze.

“Well…well, there’s nothing there now. Are…are you sure you didn’t just have a bad dream,” Joyce asked, concerned.

“No! I…there’s something…” Buffy sighed. She couldn’t tell her mom that what she was pretty sure she’s seen had been a puppet – a real, live puppet (and probably a demon) – lurking around her room. Better to just run with the excuse she’d been given and plead a nightmare. “I… you’re probably right. I’m sorry I got you up.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Joyce replied, patting her shoulder affectionately. “I was dreaming about bills,” she added ruefully. Joyce trailed her hand down her daughter’s cheek, urging her to get some rest before leaving the room to go back to bed.

Buffy, unable to sleep just yet, walked to the window. She paused upon seeing the blackened out vehicle that was stopped on the street in front of her house. The window rolled down and the Slayer couldn’t help but gasp as she caught sight of the driver. The shock of white hair crowning an impossibly pale face. Impossibly gorgeous face, she couldn’t help but think.

For one fleeting second, she thought that he’d been the one to sneak into her room, then put that thought down as wishful thinking. It had been Sid that had attacked her. Not the male smirking up at her just before he gunned his engine and took off down the road.

It was a long while before the Slayer went back to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy stumbled into the auditorium, bleary-eyed, yet contemplative.

Giles, who had just escaped from Cordelia’s whining, thanks to an ingenious tip of Xander’s, saw his Slayer and walked up the aisle to greet her.

“Hello. You’re looking a bit worse for… uh…”

Buffy barely acknowledged her watcher’s greeting, turning her back on him to sit down in the row behind Xander and Willow.

“…uh… what exactly are you the worse for?” he asked, moving up a few rows to where he’d left his belongs.

“Where’s Morgan,” the Slayer asking, ignoring Giles’ question.

“Uh… I haven’t seen him,” the watcher replied.

Buffy briefly explained about the situation last night, her lack of sleep-age, and Sid’s role. She deliberately left out any mention of the pale-haired driver in the black vehicle, having put down the sighting as a sleep-deprived hallucination. No one could be that gorgeous.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Giles told the three after Buffy’s explanation, “I think I’ve found a possible demon culprit.” He held up the book he’d spent the previous night thumbing through. “There's a reference in here to a brotherhood of seven demons who take, uh, the form of young humans. Every seven years these demons need human organs, a-a brain and a heart… to maintain their humanity. Otherwise, t-they revert back to their original form, which is, uh, uh, slightly less appealing.”

“So, Morgan could be the guy, only demon Morgan instead of crazy Morgan,” Willow commented, having spotted the boy in question enter the auditorium with his puppet in hand.

Giles frowned, shaking his head. “It’s said that these demons are preternaturally strong, and… Morgan is…well, it seems like he’s getting weaker every day.”

Buffy stared at the boy and his puppet, Sid, for a minute before getting up to head to class.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy walked into the changing areas of the auditorium. With Xander keeping an eye on Sid, she’d taken the opportunity to seek out Morgan. Have a little chat with him, one-on-one. Unfortunately, nothing revealed itself – except for Morgan’s dead body.

She backpedaled a bit, not expecting the sight that greeted her; she’d thought for sure that Morgan had been the demon, and coming across his lifeless body, the top of his head hacked off, had left her decidedly queasy.

Which was why she didn’t hear the chandelier falling towards her head until it was too late. The steel frame crashed into her head and knocked her out in one shot, the weight of it pinning her to the floor and making her easy prey to whoever happened along.

~*~

Buffy awoke slowly, eyes staring unfocused at her surroundings. The sound of footsteps, the exact replica of what she’d heard last night in her bedroom, drifted down to her from above, and she concentrated her attention there, willing her eyes to see clearly.

“Who’s ever out there, I’m gonna hurt you. Badly,” adding under her breath, “If you’ll just give me a minute.”

The Slayer concentrated on lifting the chandelier off of her chest, but the angle was all wrong and she couldn’t get the force of her arms beneath it. The breath was knocked out of her when Sid jumped on the circular structure pinning her in place. Her mouth opened on a shocked gasp at seeing the knife poised above her head.

Knowing that she wouldn’t be free in time…

Buffy closed her eyes and waited for the death knoll.

A scuffle of heavy boots and something flew over the top of her, taking the puppet with it. Sounds of a struggle came to her. A muffled, “bloody hell, that hurt,” then a snarl and a thud as Sid was obviously thrown against a wall.

“What are you doing?” she heard Sid demand of her savior. “She’s gotta be destroyed.”

“Normally, I’m inclined to agree with you, mate, but I need the bint. You’re gonna have to leave off messin’ with the Slayer for now.”

‘Slayer? He knows I’m the Slayer?’ Buffy thought.

“Slayer? The Slayer?” Sid asked at the same time, confusion evident in his voice. “I didn’t… I thought…”

“Yeah, well, she ain’t the one. Trust me,” the other said, and Buffy let his honey voice wash over her senses. She was such the cliché for letting his accent reduce her to mush, but gave herself a smidgeon of credit because Giles’ apparently had no effect on her. Maybe it was the whole rescue factor. Although, now that she thought about it, he’d said something about agreeing with her death.

That caused the Slayer to renew her struggle with the pile of metal and chain pinning her to the floor. Unhearing of the booted footsteps that walked over towards her until it was too late.

A shocked gasp escaped her lips as the blond from last night came into her line of sight. But, it was the knowing smirk and his greeting that turned her into that pile of goo she’d mentioned earlier.

“Hello, cutie.”

~*~*~*~*~

“If I pull this thing off you, you promise to play nice, Slayer?”

Buffy stared up at him dumbfounded. Taking in the sharp cheekbones and deep blue eyes, the way his tongue did this thing with his teeth.

Spike’s grin grew to epic proportions at her dazed expression. Practically handed to him on a platter, she was, and he could do nothing about it. He needed her. Needed her to seek his revenge. And that was more important than claiming his third Slayer.

“A truce, luv. I let you up. You keep the stakes where they’re hidden,” he explained.

Buffy’s eyes widened as she finally caught his meaning.

He was a vampire?

Well, hell. There went any possibility of a budding romance right out the window. Such a shame too, because he was – to coin Cordelia’s phrase – salty goodness. More so than the mysterious Angel ever thought of being.

She nodded warily, and a second later she was free and scrambling to her feet. Her body automatically coming into a defensive stance.

“Ah, ah… none of that, luv. We had a deal, you and I. I let you up. You play nice with Spike.”

“Spike? Your name is Spike?” she asked, incredulous. Ignoring that voice in her head that told her the name suited him perfectly.

“What of it?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Nothing…it’s just…nothing.” Buffy held up her hands in a placating gesture.

Hollow footsteps sounded somewhere behind Spike, and Buffy’s gaze narrowed as Sid walked towards them.

“You!” she growled at the puppet.

“Hey! I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” he placated, arms posed in a way similar to what she’d done with Spike. “I thought you were the last one. Who can blame me for thinking that? Look at you! You’re strong... athletic… limber.” He drew this last word out, wiggling his eyebrows.

Eyebrows that shot up at the possessive growl from the vampire beside him – he hadn’t missed the word play between him and what he now knew was the Slayer either.

“Whoa! Wait! You thought I was this demon? Does anyone else see something wrong with this picture? Good here!” She pointed at her chest, nodding to punctuate the point.

“My bad,” Sid replied. “But, in my defense, no one else here has exhibited anything remotely near your strength, discounting Billy Idol here.”

“Watch it, Pinocchio. You’re not one to cast names,” Spike growled.

“Just calling ‘em like I see ‘em,” the puppet went on.

Spike made a move towards the puppet, but Buffy intercepted him.

“Wait. Stop.”

Reluctantly, the vampire did like she asked. And, again with the surprise.

“What’s your story,” she burst out, her gaze directed at the vampire. Curiosity getting the better of common sense.

Spike was back to looking mutinous. Or, maybe it was angry. She wasn’t quite sure. But, whatever it was, he wasn’t pleased.

“Came to town looking for a demon. Apparently the same one you’re both after.”

“Why?”

“He killed my sire. Caught her unaware. She’d been sickly of late, and the bastard had her heart ripped from her chest before he realized what she was. That it was no good to him.”

Buffy cringed at the mental picture. Somehow her hand found its way to Spike’s leather-clad arm in a show of empathy.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. The sincerity in her voice surprised even the vampire, and he’d nodded his thanks before he could stop himself.

“Ta, luv.”

“Wait! You said he, as in not she, as in, we can narrow our search?” In her excitement, she gripped his arm tighter. “We’ve got to tell Giles!”

“Who’s Giles,” Sid asked, at the same time Spike barked out a denial of meeting her watcher. Knowing that that was who she was referring to. Slayers were all the same in that respect.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy couldn’t help but giggle at seeing Giles’ expression when she walked into the room with both Spike and Sid.

“Buffy! I-I say… what—”

“This is Sid. He’s a demon hunter that’s been cursed to live inside a puppet.” She’d learned that bit of trivia as they’d walked from the auditorium, down the hall towards the library. “And, this… this is Spike.”

“Spike. What an odd name,” the watcher murmured, his watcher-like mind already coming up with clues as to the man’s identity, before he stopped short. They had more important things to worry about than his Slayer making new friends. “But, I don’t understand… Buffy, we have that….that situation—”

“It’s ok, Giles. Spike knows who you are. He knows who I am, too, for that matter.”

“How?” His confusion showed on his face.

Spike clarified the matter by allowing his fangs to drop, and the ridges to appear on his forehead. Then laughed outright as the tweeded man nearly tumbled arse over end to get away from him.

“Buffy!” Giles exclaimed, still scrambling to put distance between himself and the vampire.

Buffy backhanded Spike in the arm, not softly. She glared at him, until his human mask graced his face once more.

“So not helping, Spike,” she grumbled, then walked away to assist her watcher to his feet.

“It’s alright, Giles. Spike’s not here to hurt us. Are you, Spike?” She glanced over her shoulder to seek his agreement. Smiling when he nodded. Then she turned back to her watcher. “He’s actually after the same demon we are. And, he can point out what he looks like. Sid has a theory that it’s someone in the talent show.”

“Show? Show! Oh my god, the talent show. I completely forgot! It’s about to start.”

He made to leave, but Buffy’s next words halted his progress.

“I found Morgan. Giles, the demon got the brain he needed. He’ll probably be leaving soon.”

“Gather the group on the stage. A pre-show pep talk. Whoever isn’t there has got to be the demon,” Sid told the man, planting himself on a table.

“Pep talk? I—”

“Just bloody get the lot on stage. Make up an excuse. We’ll do the rest,” Spike growled.

“Right. Pep talk. I can do that,” the Englishman stammered out and left the library, taking a wide berth around the blond vampire.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy stomped into the library. Their plan had been a bust. Everyone had shown up for the pre-show pep talk, which threw Sid’s idea of it being one of the performers out of the equation.

Now, Giles was seeing to last minute preparations. Sid and Spike were still hanging around the auditorium, the latter hoping for some sign of the demon that had killed his sire.

Which left Buffy in the library researching with Xander and Willow.

“Hey, Buffy! Come here,” Willow called out.

“What is it, Wills?”

“I was doing some background checks, because, hey, it pays to be thorough, right? And um—”

“Spill it, Wills.” Buffy didn’t have time to listen to her friend babble on for hours, no matter how endearing.

“Morgan’s emergency contact with the school lists a Dr. Dale Leggett, California Institute of Neurosurgery, Cancer Ward.”

“Brain cancer?” Xander asked.

“Which means that the brain the demon took from Morgan is no good. Which also means that the demon is still here and he could have been one of the performers,” Buffy deduced. “We can also safely assume it’s looking for his next victim – a nice, healthy, brainy-type victim.”

“Which means I’m safe!” Xander deadpanned.

“And Willow is with us…” Buffy added. “And Giles is in the auditorium… Giles!”

Buffy tore out of the library and raced towards the auditorium. Bypassing the rows of aisles, she made her way to the side entrance and burst onto the nearly deserted stage just as Spike shoved Marc to the ground and grabbed the severed rope attached to the guillotine falling towards Giles’ head – halting its progress.

The Slayer jumped into the fray, driving the enraged boy back so that Spike could free her watcher. A roundhouse kick or two, a right and left hook, followed quickly by an uppercut kept him at bay, but didn’t damage him too much. She didn’t want to. Was only keeping him busy until Spike finished up.

“My turn, Slayer,” he told her, then attacked the boy. Only he wasn’t a boy any longer. His time to get a brain had run out, and he’d reverted back to demon form. Which made it a lot easier for Buffy to stomach the beating it received.

Finally, Spike had had enough, and he twisted the demon’s head clean from his neck, letting the headless body fall heedlessly to the stage. Sid suddenly came into view wielding the knife he’d had earlier.

“It’s not finished,” he told the vampire, knife poised over the demon’s heart. “It’s not enough. He’ll come back. You have to get the heart.”

Spike nodded at the puppet demon hunter, allowing him to finish. Knowing what the end would mean. The two shared a look and Sid slammed the knife home, then collapsed on top of the demon, his curse finally lifted.

“I n-never thought I’d say this to a…a vampire…” Giles began, breaking into the unusual quiet of the stage. In his agitation at his near-death experience, and that it had been a demon – a vampire – that had inadvertently saved him, he stuttered his way through his gratitude, wiping furiously at the immaculately clean glasses he held to give his hands something to do. “…but, thank you. Your quick…reflexes… quite saved my…er…head.”

Spike’s gaze flicked from the watcher to the Slayer. He frowned at seeing the slight smile play about her lips, but she quickly squelched it when she found him looking at her.

“I…I’ll see Spike out, Giles,” Buffy told her watcher, walking over to stand next to the disgruntled vampire. “You better get ready to start the show. I’ll be back soon.” She turned away before the other three had a chance to object and ushered Spike off the stage and into the wings opposite the others.

~*~

Buffy watched him as he placed one hand on the door leading to the outside. And the cover of darkness that would take him away from her. She didn’t think he was going to turn around. Acknowledge whatever it was that seemed to have struck them the first moment they’d looked upon the other. Just slip out into the night and steal away from Sunnydale, never to be seen again.

She watched as he stood there in indecision.

The creak of the door knob as he began turning it seemed unusually loud in the silence, and the Slayer closed her eyes around the hurt she couldn’t hide. She expected to feel a blast of cold air as the door was thrown open and Spike made his escape. Instead, she was suddenly enveloped in strong arms, the leather soft against her bare skin, and then his lips touched hers and Buffy was lost.

~*~

Spike stood there like a fool, berating himself. It was wrong this instant attraction he felt for the blonde Slayer. And if he was smart, he’d hurl himself out the door and get as far away from the Hellmouth as he could.

But, Spike was never one for being too smart. His track record since being turned bespoke that truth. His hand, gripping the partially turned knob, stilled. He could hear the Slayer behind him, sense her upset – though he wasn’t quite sure why.

And he caved.

His hand released the knob and in a few short strides he was in front of her. Cupping her face and lowering his head to hers.

She tasted like sunshine. And innocence. And all the other things he, the Slayer of Slayers, shouldn’t want. But, he found himself drawing her closer anyway. Pulling her lush body flush against his chest. Thrilling to the sound of her slight whimper when she felt the evidence of his desire. The way her body stiffened for a mere moment before melting like liquid fire against him.

And everywhere she touched him he burned.

Spike couldn’t prevent his own moan of satisfaction.

The hand about the back of her neck coaxed her head to a new angle and he attacked her lips with vigor. His tongue, never idle during his self discovery, plundered her lips, acquainting himself with the unfamiliar territory.

Thrust and then retreat.

Until he thought the action would cause him to burst in his pants.

He tore his mouth away before he embarrassed himself like some untried virgin. She was the virgin in this encounter, not he. His lips ghosted along her jaw, marveling at her taste, her intoxicating heat. Her sigh of happiness, the eager way she allowed her head to fall back and expose the sun-kissed column of her throat to his gaze nearly did him in.

His demon burst forth, and the Slayer’s accelerated heartbeat, already pounding in his sensitive ears, seemed to slam into him tenfold. His fangs itched where they scraped along the rapidly beating pulse in her neck. The heady scent of her arousal made his mouth water and wish for a tiny taste.

As his mouth continued to tease the surprisingly erogenous zone of her neck – he mentally filed away that tiny tidbit for later reflection – one hand snaked its way under her tunic-style top and into the painted-on black pants she wore. Thank god for stretchy material. He toyed with the edge of her knickers, one cool finger half touching the imaginary line they made across her abdomen, half touching her heated skin. Surprising himself with his restraint as another wave of the aroma he’d forever associate with this girl, this Slayer, tickled his nostrils.

Patience was never his strong suit, and he quit his play to delve his hand beneath the silky barrier the cloth provided to finger her moistened curls. Her creamy response seemed to sear his questing digits, much like holy water, and he was surprised he couldn’t smell the acrid smell of burning flesh. Back and forth, his fingers trailed along her slit, coaxing her to even further wetness. The tiny moans nearly made him give up his vow of just a taste.

But a truce was a truce, and William the Bloody would keep his word in this. Besides, she had granted him his vengeance against Drusilla’s killer, and taking her life just now didn’t sit well with the vampire.

Spike slid his index finger into her moist sheath… and forgot to breathe. Which was kind of ironic given that he was a vampire and didn’t need to, but he’d always been the exception to the norm, and that particular human characteristic always managed to slip in during love play. But he wasn’t now. If he thought her skin was hot, the heat of her channel had to be the sun. He eagerly slid another finger inside with the first, thrusting it in and out of her pussy.

Pleased when her legs spread of their own accord, allowing him more room to maneuver.

“Spike,” Buffy moaned, arching into his touch, needing more. Her body had become a slave to his skilled hands. It mattered not that they were standing at the rear exit of the auditorium. Even though it was dark where he had her, pressed up against the wall, anyone could happen by. A lost student. Principal Snyder. Her watcher.

Buffy didn’t care. The feel of this vampire, the things he was doing to her, had wiped her of common sense. She felt herself stretch as another finger was added, never detracting from the seamless rhythm he’d struck up at her core.

She should be shoving him away from her, staking him. Not allowing him to play her body as he was. But right and wrong had gone by the wayside the second their lips had touched. And she was helpless but to respond, eagerly riding his fingers, her hips bucking into his hand…

Spike lifted his head from where he was nibbling lightly at her neck to look down at the Slayer’s face. Even in the darkened corridor, he could see that her face was flushed. He thought it endearing the way she’d taken to biting her lip to keep quiet. But that was nothing compared to the desire written plainly on her expressive face, the way her slight frame was tense with its need for release.

Here he’d thought he could get away with just a taste. Should have bloody known he’d never be able to do that. That the first touch of her would make him crave it all.

“Shhh, kitten,” he soothed. “Spike’ll make it all better.”

He ignored her groan of protest when he pulled his fingers free of her quim. Just dropped to his knees in front of her, working her pants down her legs. Spike didn’t give her time to thing about what he was doing, his lips and tongue eagerly taking up where his fingers left off. Attacking her clit before she could come to her senses. He employed ever trick he’d learned over the past century to keep her body poised on the precipice while he worked the tight material past her knees. Further still, until he’d swept a shoe off with one pant leg.

When he was finished, Spike surged back to his feet, grinding his denim-clad hard-on against her cleft. His lips seeking her own. Whipping his own lust up a notch when she met him with open mouth and aggressive tongue.

The Slayer had obviously gotten into the swing of things.

His artful seduction was gone, his finesse, right along with it. He had to be inside her.

Right now. Had to feel the heat that, thus far, only his mouth and fingers had known.

Spike made quick work of the button on his jeans, hissing when his cock was finally freed. His upper body had her pinned against the wall, and he used one hand to shove the black denim off of his hips, until gravity took over and they fell to the floor about his ankles. His hand was back at her pussy, easily driving three fingers into her moist channel, giving a handful of pumps before he removed them and angled the head of his cock at her entrance. One hand wrapped around her bare thigh and urged it up on his hip.

Then he rammed his way home. Through the barrier that proclaimed him being her first, all the way until she’d taken him to the hilt. Swallowing her scream at his invasion into his mouth.

At the gifting of her maidenhead, the least he could do was pause until her body adjusted to his size, and Spike did just that. Ignoring the seductive lure of her blood at his forceful penetration. He shook off his demon, pulling his head back to look at her face.

Saw the pain in her eyes that was eclipsed by something else. Something stronger. Something he dare not think about, or he’d never leave.

“Pain’ll subside in a second, pet,” he murmured softly, shocked by his need to reassure her. The way his hand lifted to brush a stray lock back from her face. His fingers sought the clip at the back of her head and pulled it free, allowing her hair to fall down around her shoulders. Spike looked oddly at the hair fastener before tossing it aside. As he looked down at the soft waves of brown mixed with sunlight, he wondered why she’d ever want to hide it away.

So caught up in staring at her hair, he didn’t feel her body relax, or that she’d lifted her head from the wall, her eyes opened and staring at him.

“Spike,” she whispered, and he jerked.

Refocusing his gaze back on her face, he murmured, “All better now?”

Buffy nodded, unable to speak. Embarrassment at such a compromising position finally worming its way in her consciousness. That is, until he moved. She felt him slide out of her until only a slight stretching could be felt at her opening. Then, inch by inch, he pushed his way home.

It was indescribable, the feelings he was evoking with such a simple action. For the first time in her young life, she felt complete. Like she’d waited forever for this. The touch of this man. This vampire.

Her other leg lifted to lock around his back. Sounded like a broken record when his name was murmured yet again as the movement seemed to pull him even deeper inside her core. She heard him grunt, and knew he felt it too.

Her fingers lifted from his shoulders to play in his hair. The bleached locks were surprisingly soft, even with the gel that slicked it to his skull. She grabbed two fistfuls of hair and tugged, exposing his pale throat, and the scars that made him what he was. Unaware of what it would do, the response it would generate from the vampire, Buffy sought the marks with her mouth and laved them with her tongue.

He growled, a sound that seemed to vibrate in her pussy, and the Slayer had to catch her breath as she was driven back against the wall with the force of his thrust.

But, it was nothing compared to when she sank her blunt teeth into his flesh.

Whatever control he’d seemed to harbor was gone, and Buffy could do nothing but hang on as he began to pound into her in earnest. Each slam into the wall pushing her teeth into his skin, driving him even crazier. His hands were digging into her ass, gripping her tight, and she knew she’d have the bruises to show for it later.

For now, it didn’t matter.

Just the feel of him did. This one moment.

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t last. That they were day and night. Good and evil. Opposites.

Buffy could feel herself nearing a peak. Of what she did not know. Her blood was roaring in her ears, her muscles beginning to tense…

Spike was lost. Lost in the feel of her. Lost in the scent of her. Soon to be lost in the taste of her.

There was no way he was leaving the Hellmouth without marking the girl. It didn’t make sense. This need to possess her. Proclaim to all others that she belonged to him. Her innocent bite had set things in motion. Things he was powerless to resist. He could feel his balls tightening up, signaling his impending release. And knew it was time.

One hand sought the bundle of nerves between her legs, knowing it would be enough to send her over the edge.

His fangs sliced into her neck as her walls contracted around his length. Marked her with both fangs and cock, drawing her blood into his mouth as he filled her full of his come. Was comforted by the fact that while his scent on her would fade, the scars on her neck would not.

And all would know that she belonged to William the Bloody.

The End

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