Halloween Done Right

by SpikesKat

Buffy wasn’t quite sure why she was out.  It was Halloween – her one official day off.  It was also cold, and there was this cross between a fine mist and outright fog that she’d yet to come to appreciate since moving to London floating about.   

Rome hadn’t done it for her, neither had the Immortal for that matter.   

Buffy had wanted wild and dangerous thinking to replicate what she’d had with Spike, only it hadn’t been that… just a cheap copy of the original.  Having realized that, she’d severed her ties.  Eventually having to leave the country because he was turning into such a whining sniveling pain-in-the-ass.   

She wasn’t the only one that had relocated to London either.  Both Willow and Xander were there.  They’d done their distancing thing in the wake of the Sunnydale fallout, much like she had, but had found, like her, that they had too much history together – good and bad – to stay apart indefinitely.   

Xander had been the last to arrive, showing up at the end of the summer, looking for all the world like death warmed over.  He’d lost weight, too much, in fact.  Buffy had taken it upon herself to fatten him up just a bit, at least so his bones wouldn’t show quite so much.  Dawn had also had a hand in his rehabilitation. 

Buffy wondered when her sister and her best friend were going to announce that there was more than friendship going on between the two.  She’d seen the looks that passed back and forth when they thought no one was looking.  And she was all for the match; Dawn was at an age to contemplate a serious relationship, and her sister was just the thing Xander needed to keep him from wallowing in his misery. 

Willow, too, had seemed to find someone – another witch like herself.  One of the daughters of the coven she was a part of, though she was not nearly as powerful as her friend.  Danielle was nice, too.  Her soft-spoken manner reminded Buffy of Tara, though the two were nothing alike.   

Even Giles had a girlfriend.  His secretary.  She wasn’t the clichéd twenty-something built like Barbie.  No, Frances, was close in age to her watcher and was his exact opposite.  They’d hurled insults back and forth from the moment they’d met.  Much like she and Spike had, she couldn’t help but think.  It had been a running joke as to when the two were going to do the deed and whether or not they were going to bring the new Council Headquarters down around their ears when they did so – thankfully no one had been present when the two had finally caved. 

So now, everyone was pretty much paired up – except for her.  Which was ok.  She’d had her chance and remembered fondly her time with Spike there at the end.  It still hurt, seeing him like that, how the pendant had erupted with light, how he’d eventually told her to leave.  But she knew now why he’d done it, though it had taken her endless tears and a rebound bad boy to see. 

He’d wanted her to live. 

She was trying to, because that was his wish.  But it was harder now… now that she’d found out he’d been resurrected.  Only to die again.  All without her ever knowing, until it had been too late. 

She remembered staring transfixed at the television screen when the reports came in.  A helicopter had shot footage of a confrontation taking place in some back alley of Los Angeles.  Buffy had easily made out the features of Angel and Spike; there’d been two others – a black man, and a blue-faced chick in leather.  She’d learned later that Angel taking out a group known as the Black Thorn had triggered the attack… after she’d returned.  Giles had told her. 

Buffy had caught the first flight out of London, but there’d been nothing in the alley once she arrived.  The bloodied remains had been removed, the battle explained away as rioting gang members by the press.  Spike’s duster she’d found buried beneath a wooden crate, one she’d kicked when her anger had gotten the better of her.  It was mangled with cuts and holes, and seeing it, Buffy knew that he was gone again. 

Buffy shuffled along the path that skirted one of London’s cemeteries then crossed the street so she could peer into the darkened alleys on the other side, oblivious to the chill seeping into her bones.  She’d make another sweep and then head home.  Dawn was out with Xander at an all-night club, and with Xander having his own place now, she doubted she’d be seeing her sister before breakfast.  She’d take a shower and then warm up in front of the fireplace with a book and a cup of tea. 

Thinking about her sister and her best friend, the sounds of fighting didn’t penetrate her consciousness at first.  She hadn’t really been expecting to actually have to slay anything.  Had barely taken the time to tuck a stake into her pocket – thanks to Spike and his message of long ago to always have her weapon ready.   

“It’s… Halloween… you’re… supposed… to take… the night… off.”  Each word was punctuated by a punch or a kick and the sound of an answering groan of pain. 

Buffy tore around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks.  Her eyes seemed to clamp onto the vision in front of her, barely sparing the girl at her feet a glance. 

It was Spike.  Her Spike.

And he was beating on some vampire. 

His back was to her, but she’d know that voice anywhere… 

She watched as he threw his opponent against a wooden crate.  It splintered beneath his weight and the vamp exploded into dust. 

“Well, that was a bit of a letdown,” Spike muttered under his breath.  He turned around to see if the girl he’d rescued was alright, and froze upon seeing the Slayer.  His Slayer.  Not one of the many now inhabiting the planet. 

Bloody hell. 

He’d felt the tinglies, but discounted them, figuring it was some other bird.  Not Buffy. 

She was supposed to be in Rome. 

“I left,” she told him, and Spike realized he must have voiced that thought out loud. 

“Oh.”

He ran a hand through his streaked hair, unsure how to proceed.  His gaze ate her up like a starved man suddenly being offered a seven-course meal. 

Buffy was busily conducting her own assessment.  She devoured him from head to toe, taking note of the t-shirt and blue jeans, and his ever-present Docs – though they were new by the looks of them.  His duster was gone, but then, she’d known that; it was tucked away in a bottom drawer, hidden even from her sister. 

“You look…” Good, she thought.  “… different.  Your hair…” 

One corner of his mouth turned up. 

“Haven’t had a chance to bleach it yet,” he told her. 

The Slayer nodded. 

The two lapsed into silence again, neither sure what to say.  It eventually was too much for Buffy because she blurted out, “I thought you were dead.” 

That seemed to open the floodgates on her emotions, and she burst into tears. 

Spike was beside her in an instant, drawing her against his chest, his arms closing around her back and holding her tight. 

“Oh, luv… don’t cry,” he whispered into her hair.   

His pleading tone only made her cry harder. 

Unmindful of the drizzle that was threatening to develop into a full-blown rain, Spike sat down on the ground right there in the alley, his back resting against the building.  There’d be no point in trying to talk until her tears were spent.  No point in getting her to move either.  The wet ground soaked his jeans, but he didn’t care.  The Slayer huddled on top of him was more than enough to keep him warm. 

Spike wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat there.  But, when the skies opened up and drenched them in a matter of minutes, Buffy seemed to rouse enough to realize where she was… and what she’d been doing.   

She was a mess, she had to be.  Between the tears and the rain, she knew she was looking anything but Slayer-ly. 

She leaned back, intending to invite Spike to her place to get out of the rain.  Their eyes met and held.  His head lowered.  Hers lifted.  Their lips met somewhere in between. 

The kiss started out soft, both scared the other would bolt.  Finally Buffy sighed, and that seemed to be all the encouragement Spike needed to deepen the kiss.  His tongue sought entrance to her mouth, and Buffy eagerly complied, her hands winding around the back of his neck to pull herself closer. 

Sighs turned to moans, and then to growls as their desire for each other grew.   

Spike was ready to roll the Slayer to her back and take her right there on the ground.  Which is why he broke away, panting heavily, his eyes squeezed shut as he head rested against the building, trying to fight the demon inside him.  To will away the raging hard-on he was sporting. 

Buffy was also trying to catch her breath, but for an entirely different reason.  There was no mistaking the bulge beneath her ass, and she couldn’t resist a teensy wiggle in his lap. 

He groaned, begged her to have mercy. 

“My place isn’t far from here…” 

That got his attention.   

He set the Slayer on her feet and stood.  Then he grasped her hand and started out of the alley; at her silent prompting, he turned right.  A crack of thunder startled an un-Slayerlike meep out of Buffy, and Spike increased his pace until they were all but running. 

“Here,” she yelled over the deluge, tugging him to a stop before a brick townhouse.  They hurried up the walk and Buffy fumbled to get her hand in her pocket to reach her keys.  With her pants practically painted on her thanks to the rain, it was proving a difficult task.  Then there was the added bonus of Spike at her back, nudging her backside with his obvious desire. 

“Need some help, luv,” he whispered in her ear, his hand seeking out her pocket.  The other came around and cupped her crotch. 

“Spike…” she whimpered, her head falling back on his shoulder. 

Foreplay was fine, if it wasn’t being conducted in a monsoon.  Better to be inside, Spike thought.  So, he put off his teasing and pushed his hand deep into the Slayer’s pocket.  They closed around the keys, though it took him a few tugs before his fist came free. 

“Here…” He jingled the ring in front of her face, smirking behind her back when it took her another minute to actually reach for them. 

They stumbled in through the front door and ended up sprawled on the floor when their wet shoes slid on the hardwood floor.   

Buffy started laughing, and once she started, she couldn’t stop.  Tears were streaming down her face, happy ones this time, and her hands clutched at her sides. 

Spike smiled too, seeing the Slayer so carefree. 

“Come on, luv.  Let’s get you in the shower before you catch cold.” 

He climbed to his feet and held out his hand.  She took it, and Spike felt as if his heart kick-started for a moment. 

Buffy was pulled to her feet, her laughter dying abruptly as Spike’s look, the intensity of his gaze.  She swayed forward, her eyes drifted shut and she met… nothing but air.  Her eyes blinked open and she saw Spike’s solemn look. 

“Shower first, Buffy.  Then we can talk, yeah?” 

She nodded.  He was right.  They had a lot to discuss.  Things that needed to be said before they could indulge in the physical side of their relationship. 

They showered quickly, their touch impersonal as they washed each other off.  Afterwards, they curled up in front of the fireplace. 

And talked. 

At some point, the Slayer drifted off.  Spike watched her for a time, amazed by her revelations, not the least of which that she loved him still, and had never stopped, even when she’d been seeing the Immortal.  He had every intention of picking her up and putting her in bed, then crawling in beside her, but his eyes had shut and he’d fallen asleep too. 

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy awoke to the most delicious sensation.  Someone was nibbling lightly on her neck.  Cool fingers had skimmed their way down her stomach and were now teasing the curls at the apex of her thighs. 

She sighed happily, her legs falling open to allow his fingers – Spike’s fingers – easier access.  They brushed back and forth along her slit but refused to slip inside and put an end to his teasing. 

The front door opening cut short their play and had the two blondes scrambling to cover themselves.  Dawn came through the door, which was bad enough.  But then Xander walked in behind her. 

He was the first to notice Buffy and Spike curled up beneath a blanket in front of the fireplace; Dawn had gone ahead to the kitchen. 

“Hey, Xander,” Buffy called out weakly. 

“Buffy…” he greeted somewhat stiffly. “Spike…” 

“Coffee’s on,” Dawn announced, bouncing back into the living room.  The pep went out of her step at seeing Xander’s somber expression, and her head turned to where he was staring. 

“Hi, Dawnie.” 

“Buffy!” Dawn squealed.  It went up another notch when she called out Spike’s name.  “Spike!” 

“Hey, Bit.” 

Buffy looked back over her shoulder and she could have sworn that Spike was blushing.

She grinned.   

“Spike’s alive,” the Slayer told her sister unnecessarily. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” 

“And we’re together.” 

“Yeah, I can see that too,” Dawn grinned. 

“I’m just saying.” Her gaze swiveled to look at her friend, and how he was taking things.  “You have a problem with that, Xander?” 

Xander pursed his lips, then sniffed.  “Nah,” he said.  “Figure if you don’t have a problem with me and your sister being together, then I can’t really say anything about you and Dead Boy Jr.” 

The nicknamed rolled off his tongue easy enough, though it lacked any of the malice it used to have.  Spike realized it too, because he grinned. 

“Mighty generous of you there, Whelp.” 

“Yeah, well… I’ve mellowed in my own age.  Either that, or I’ve lost what’s left of my mind.” 

“Fair enough.  Now, would you two get lost?  Slayer and I were in the middle of a reunion here.” 

“Spike!” Buffy hissed. 

“Wot?” 

“TMI much?  Sheesh!”  

“Come on, Slayer.  We’re layin’ here beneath a blanket without a stitch of clothing on… what do you think they think we were doin’?” 

“What we’re going to be doing if you don’t shut that big mouth of yours.  Absolutely nothing.” 

“See… that’s why I love you.”  He wiggled his eyebrows and Buffy dissolved into giggles. 

“Ok… and on that note, we’re gone,” Xander announced.  “Come on, Dawnie.  No sense trying to hide that I was sneaking you back in before big sis got up.  Her bloodhound’s done sniffed us out.” 

“And just remember, this bloodhound has fangs if you ever hurt her,” Spike called out as the two reached the front door. 

“Same goes for you, Spike.  Same goes for you.”

The End  

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