"Christmas & Chrome Polish"

Author: Sarahvampgrl
Feedback: generea2@msu.edu
Rating: NC17
Pairing: B/S
Summary: Spike comes over late at night to give Buffy her Christmas present. ;)

Buffy was idly picking up the glittering silver and red wrapping paper that littered the living room floor. The aftermath of the Christmas season lay scattered throughout the house on Revello Drive as if minions of sparkly evil elves had waged a war with paper and string their only weapons. It was after midnight and with no apocalypse sitting hunched on Buffy's horizon she had forgone patrol to stay home with family and friends. Let Spike deal with the bads tonight. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Buffy had an idle fear that a demon would crash through the front door and bring the fight to her, but the evening had gone pretty smoothly. She hadn't wanted anything to ruin this holiday for Dawn who'd had to deal with so much death and unhappiness. Buffy hoped Christmas at least could be happy and light. Luckily no demons had crashed the party and no vamps had showed either. The only thing to mar the holy day of capitalist domination was Anya's ill-timed sex comments and the uncomfortable achy tension between Tara and Willow.

Buffy's movements slowed and her lower lip pouted as she smushed the paper into a tighter and tighter ball. No vamps at all. None had stopped by. That was definitely a good thing. It's not like she'd expected a present from Spike. What with the whole *I love and worship* you thing.

Dawn was up in her room on the new computer all of the scoobies had chipped in to buy her. She'd squealed ecstatically when the Dell logo had appeared as she'd ripped open the wrapping and had immediately started to chatter about stuff with Willow that sounded like code to Buffy. Willow had suggested Dawn download Kazaa to listen to music and get whole episodes of TV shows and such, while Tara had mentioned some 'reliable Wicca sites' and told Dawn that she should check out some of her stories on some sort of fiction site. Then Tara had blushed a little and said fighting demons and apocalypses were good for writing. Buffy had noted Tara's blush and wondered what else had given the blonde witch inspiration.

As Buffy was shoving the last of the ribbons and bows into the overflowing garbage she heard a loud thunking knock on the door. Buffy rolled her eyes and groaned as she trudged to the door. People knocking after midnight, while common, did not often bode well. Buffy wrenched open the door to find the black coated figure that had just crossed her mind. "Speak of the devil," she muttered under her breath.

Spike's hopeful smile widened into a wicked grin as he ran a tongue across his teeth and a hand down his chest. "Thinkin 'bout me, were ya, luv?"

Buffy sighed and leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly. "Only in the dustiest of ways," she said with an annoyed look and slightly pursed lips.

Spike whipped his other arm from behind his back and gave the brightly wrapped package in his hand a contemplative stare. "Well, guess you won't be wantin this then. I'll just leave Dawn's present and be on my way with yours."

"Wait, Spike. Come in. I actually got you something, too," Buffy said. She still didn't know why she had. He *definitely* hadn't been on her shopping list but somehow she'd found a present for the vampire tucked in her cart with her other purchases as she'd turned into the checkout lane. Right between a fuzzy scarf for Willow and a Bruce Lee DVD package for Xander.

His eyebrows flew up and his eyes twinkled as he stepped towards her. "You do know just what I want Buffy."

She stood her ground and placed her hand on his chest as she gave him a hard stare and said, "Sorry Spike. They were all out of that at the Walmart in Sunnydale, but maybe I could stake you and you could see if they have something like that in the one in Hell."

Spike raised a bored eyebrow. "Yeah, yeah, one of these days you'll stake me good and proper instead of whipping snarky barbs. Can I come in now, or are you gonna stand in the door and ogle me all night?"

Buffy gave a far more startled gasp than was necessary and vehemently declared, "I was *not* _ogling_!"

They both stood for a long moment in charged silence. Buffy still stood blocking the door as her eyes betrayed her and slid down the hard expanse of Spike's black t-shirted chest that contrasted against the smooth, lustrous opal of his skin. Spike gave an amused chuckle and pushed past her, his hand glancing off her shoulder.

Buffy turned warily and followed him into the living room illuminated by a soft yellow lamp. Spike reached into the pocket of his long leather duster and pulled out a small, square, sparkly box. He leant over and placed the silver package on the end table. Buffy crossed her arms and gave him a quizzical look. "For the Little Bit," Spike said, his eyes wide and serious as he smiled defensively. "And now for the Slayer," he said as he thrust Buffy's present at her.

She grasped the edges of the box and then simply stood holding it, not sure how to proceed in this strange moment with Spike. His body vibrated with tension as he waited. Finally he sighed exasperatedly and said, "Well, come on then. Open it!"

Buffy glanced at him uneasily before she sat down on the couch and pulled at the shiny red ribbon binding the box. She felt him slide onto the couch beside her, his cool breath brushing her cheek and the supple leather of his coat brushing her arm. She looked into the crystal blue of his eyes for one dangerous moment, lost in the startling vision of his sharp cheekbones, spiky platinum blonde hair, and lean muscular body. She took a deep hurried breath and turned her attention back to her present. And immediately wished she had a stake handy. Buffy lifted the black leather bustier out of the crinkly tissue paper and watched as a bottle of equally black nail polish tumbled out of its folds back into the box. She raised a sculpted blonde brow and said through clenched teeth, "Inappropriate much, Spike?" She turned to face him, holding the bustier against her unconsciously. "You got me a *leather bustier*?"

Spike's gaze was firmly fixed on the leather draping across the swell of her breasts as he muttered absentmindedly, "Yeah, saw it and though of you. There's a bottle of chrome nail polish in there with the black too. Couldn't resist the thought of you all punked out."

"God Spike! I _should_ stake you for this and end my misery. You *know* I'll never wear that," her lip curled as if the idea was too disturbing to say, "for you."

"Never's a long time, luv," Spike grinned lasciviously and leaned back on the couch, his arm crooked behind his head.

Buffy sputtered incoherently and surged to her feet. She turned back in the doorway and gave Spike who was sprawled in utter relaxation a little glare. "Don't get too comfy, Spike."

"Don't worry Buffy. I'll be a good little boy," Spike said sarcastically, his hand sliding across his chest as he stretched into a more comfortable position, giving Buffy an eyeful of the cut lines of his body beneath the leather he wore.

She sputtered again and whirled on her heel, stalking up the stairs. Spike's lips were pressed together in a satisfied smile as he gazed around the slayer's living room and wondered what she could have possible gotten him for Christmas. The whole gang must've been here earlier because there were boxes and paper in piles all across the room. He wished he could have been here earlier to see Dawn unwrap her gifts and to tease the soddin boy. He really was turning into a bleedin softie. Bloody hell, he still wished he coulda been here. Buffy slowly walked back into the room, a rather large box wrapped in black paper in her arms.

Spike's eyes widened and he blurted out, "What the bleedin hell did ya get me, slayer?"

She placed the box at his feet and sat stiffly beside him on the couch. He hesitated a moment, gazing at her questioningly. She said not a word but tilted her head towards the box. He dug his black nails into the paper and ripped it savagely to reveal the nondescript cardboard box beneath. He popped open the flaps and looked into the box wonderingly. Inside was a thick black comforter with a plaid trim attached with big silver safety pins. His face was slack and surprised as he lifted the blanket out and looked at Buffy questioningly.

Her hands were pressed between her thighs nervously and she was lightly biting her lip as she met his startled azure eyes. "Well, I know you're always running around in the daylight despite the whole vampire bursting into flame thing." Buffy reached over and pointed to the tag, "See, it's flame retardant...and, I don't know, it kinda screamed Spike."

"Thanks Buffy. That's...nice of you." Spike said, picking his words carefully, still stunned by such a thoughtful and unexpected gift from Buffy.

"Shake out the blanket." Buffy said.

Everything in Spike ground to a halt, *Did she mean? Right here?* He looked in her eyes but there was no hint of sensual desire so he obediently pulled the blanket the rest of the way out of the box and felt something drop to the floor. Pink nail polish. *Bright* pink, baby girl, nail polish. He whipped his head around to a smiling Buffy. She was holding up the black polish he'd given her and she said, "I'll let you do mine if you let me do yours."

Spike wasn't one to turn down a challenge and the chance to add a little punk to Buffy's look was too incredibly tempting but, GOD, he'd never worn PINK in his mortal or vampiric existence. The scales were tipped in Buffy's favor, however, as they always were, and Spike didn't deliberate long. "Alright, luv. I'll let you candycoat my nails, but you gotta try on my other present."

Buffy was already jumping up and shaking her head in swift denial. "NO way Spike! Nuh-uh!"

"But luv it's pink!" Spike said, holding the polish and splaying his hands in a supplicating gesture.

Buffy exhaled and rested her hand on her hip thoughtfully. "We'll see, Spike. Give me your hand."

Spike stuck his hand out warily and the slayer grasped it, kneeling before him. He had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning at having the Slayer kneeling before him, but he calmly handed her the nail polish. She unscrewed the cap and swiped the edge of the brush against the glass edge letting the excess paint slip back into the bottle. Then she leaned forward and aimed at Spike's hovering hand. Before the brush touched Spike's nail she pulled back with a dissatisfied frown on her face. She looked up at him for a second, then said, "Sit on the floor with me so I can do this right."

Spike complied with a strained, rueful grimace that quickly melted as she grasped his hand again and placed it on her thigh so she could neatly paint his nails with the offending pink. Buffy bent forward over his hand as she carefully concentrated on each nail and the swipe of her brush. Spike reveled in the feel of their knees touching and Buffy's warm, supple thigh beneath his palm. His lids lowered sensually and his unneeded breath rasped through his softly parted lips. Buffy continued to calmly turn his nails a bright pink that could probably be spotted at fifty yards

"Done," Buffy chirped with an evilly satisfied grin, "Next hand." Spike held his hand up to the light and snorted in disgust before obediently sticking out his other hand. Buffy quickly positioned his hand on her strong thigh and diligently began her work on the still black tinged nails. When each nail had been evenly coated a nice pepto bismal Buffy screwed the brush back on the bottle with a decisive twist and offered her hands to Spike.

He smiled and gripped her left hand in both of his. He leant forward and brushed a soft kiss across it before placing it on his thigh. He unscrewed the brush from the black bottle and swiped the color across her index fingernail. Buffy watched with intense curiosity as Spike scrutinized her nails, occasionally darting his tongue along his teeth or bottom lip. He painted her middle fingernail, ring fingernail, and pinky nail before grasping her right hand, brushing a similar kiss across her knuckle and laying it on his other thigh. On this hand he carefully painted every nail except the pinky. Buffy was about to ask him what he was doing when he reached for the chrome bottle still nestled in the present box. He return to her thumbnail and pinkynail with this color. He leaned back and cocked his head as he studied his work. Satisfied he looked up and met Buffy's hazel eyes. "These polishes dry quick. Bet you could slip into that little leather number, no problem," Spike said as he waggled his brows at her. He was still lightly gripping her wrists and Buffy didn't quite feel like pulling away and punching him so she settled for rolling her eyes. "Come on Buffy! Try it on. I'll bet you'll like it. Besides I let you make me wear this god awful pink." He wiggled his bright tipped fingers under Buffy's nose and was shocked when she smiled and grabbed his hand lowering it to her knee.

Buffy didn't know why she moved Spike's hand to her knee, or why she was even halfway contemplating putting on what was basically leather lingerie for him. She just knew she was having fun with him tonight and that it felt right to be sitting on the floor close to him.

Spike cleared his suddenly tight throat and said, "Um, I got you something else. In the bottom of the box." He nodded his head almost imperceptibly to the box laying on the couch behind his head. Buffy's brows knitted but she reached for the box, bringing it down onto the floor beside them. She pushed the tissue paper aside and stilled at what she saw. Slowly she pulled out the mahogany framed picture of herself, Dawn, and their mom. Buffy didn't say a word as she stroked the image of her mother through the glass. Spike began to babble into her silence, his accent thickening. "I didn't get the picture from stalking you. Dawn gave it to me. I just had it blown up and framed. It looked like the three of you were having a real good time and I thought you could use a reminder of that. You know, happy memories. Not all this darkness all the time."

Buffy had to admit it. That was sweet. Really, really, heartbreakingly sweet. She turned to Spike and he reared back defensively at the intensity of her face. "Shut up, Spike," she said, her voice quavering, and she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Spike didn't move for a startled moment then he wrapped his arms around her possessively and slammed her body to his. He leaned back against the couch and Buffy slipped to her knees and followed, straddling his lap.

He felt so good to Buffy, and she didn't have to worry about crushing him with her strength or how he really felt about her. He wanted her and, as much she had grown to believe him when he said he cared for her, a part of her had even begun to believe he was right when he said she cared for him deep down inside too. So she let herself feel. Let herself sink down into the happiness Spike could give her, their pasts and normalcy be damned! Spike suckled her lip as his hand moved down the smooth line of her back to grasp her arse. Buffy wiggled her bottom against his thighs and smiled at the soft groan he pressed to the curve of her neck.

Spike surged to his feet, an arm clasped around her waist holding her to him. Their mouths were fused together as Spike strode to the stairs, Buffy's feet dangling off the ground. He bounced onto the landing as he gripped Buffy's thigh, pulling her leg up to wrap around his waist. Buffy arms were around his shoulders and her eyes softly closed as she let hiss passion pour over her through the sweet pull of his lips and the strong grip of his hands. He headed straight for her bedroom door and turned, bumping it open with his hip and booted foot. The next thing Buffy knew she was arcing through the air to land with a bouncing groan on the soft downy mattress of her bed.

Spike stood like a conquering warrior resplendent with the glow of a battle won as he stood at the foot of Buffy's bed. He ripped his leather coat off and flung it to the floor. He lifted his shirt over his head and gave it a little spin before it joined the coat. He leaned back and stumbled a little as the door gave beneath his weight and clicked shut. He gave a startled groan but continued ripping his clothes off. A boot thudded to the floor by his side. The other flew out of his hands and past Buffy's head to thud into the wall. Buffy's gaze had followed the flying combat boot and when she turned her eyes back to Spike he was completely naked.

Buffy swallowed hard. This was a new one. Her wide eyes started at the slash of his vibrant blond hair down the hard angles of his face and chest glowing a soft pearl in the bluish light to the thick evidence of his erection revealed. Spike was across the room in a flash crawling up her body with an animal grace. He wrapped his arms around her and locked his lips to her. Buffy wanted to feel him against her skin and pushed to her knees sending him sprawling onto the bed beside her. Buffy slid her corded red turtleneck over her head then slipped off her pinstriped cotton pants. She reached for the straps of her black cotton panties but stopped at Spike's impassioned, "No, luv. Let me." And then he was leaning over her and grasping the edge in his sharp teeth and pulling the scrap of material down her long golden legs and off her feet.

Spike grasped her heel and kissed her instep softly thinking back to all the damage that little foot had inflicted on his face and body in the years he had known Buffy. His pink nails flashed against her honey skin as he stroked her sweet flesh reverently. When his lips traced her jaw Buffy clasped his head and slammed his mouth back to hers. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips and pulled his body into hers. Spike gasped and almost lost control as he felt himself enveloped in her warm wetness. He gazed into her half-lidded eyes and had never felt so incredibly close to Buffy, his beloved. He slowly dipped his head and tasted Buffy's cherry lips and gasping breath as he began to move his hips, his cock stroking within her. Buffy pressed her black nails into his shoulders and angled her hips up to catch his hard flesh against the sharp ecstasy of pleasure released from her clit.

She gave a shuddering groan and he a long moan as they thrust against each other. Buffy hovered for a sharp moment on the precipice of pleasure. Spike slid his hand down her tight belly and pressed his fingertips against the hard nub buried in her nest of softly curling honeybrown hair. Her inner muscles shuddered around his cock and she screamed his name with a long low, "Spiiike!"

He groaned and exploded his cool seed inside her. "God, luv. You did know the perfect present," Spike murmured into her ear before rolling onto his back and pulling her across his chest. She sighed and mumbled something unintelligible as she smiled softly against his neck. Spike stroked his hands through her hair, his bright pink nails shining through her silky cascading locks. "I love you," he rasped softly.

Buffy's eyes were open and wide as she bit her lip lightly. "I know, Spike."

Spike had to be satisfied. She hadn't jumped up and run away or staked him. She hadn't even denied him. But it still hurt his heart a little. This was a girl he'd gladly give his unlife for, walk into a burning pit of fire for, take a bloody stake for. He wished she could give him something. Just admit that she really_felt_something here!

Buffy pulled up and rested her chin on her folded hands to meet his vulnerable azure eyes. "Spike, I can't say I love you. But you make me feel. You make me feel mad and angry and excited and," she swallowed and paused, "you make me feel happy. That's all I can offer... For now."

"Hell, pet, I've been loving you on a lot less than that for a while now," Spike's face grew more intensely serious and he stroked his fingers across her cheek, "You make me happy, too."

Dawn knocked lightly on her sister's door and called softly, "Buffy, are you getting up? I'm making omelettes! Yummy, cheesy, omelettes," she finished cajolingly. She heard a sleep-heavy protesting groan and muttered, "I'll take that as a no." She jauntily skipped down the stairs and turned into the living room. She stopped dead and smiled gleefully at the little silver box on the end table. "Oh, cool, post-Christmas-unopened-gravy-on-top-present-joy!"

Dawn plopped onto the couch and plucked the little card out of the bow. She smiled as she read the looping words written in black ink.

Dawn,

Made it for you special.

Love,
Spike

Dawn wondered when Spike had come by to drop it off as she popped open the little wrapped lid of the box. Something silver sparkled inside and she reached in to pull it out. A thick star dangled from a delicate chain. As she peered closer she noticed a hinge at one point. She wedged her fingernail into the edge and the star popped open. Dawn gasped at what she saw inside. A delicately painted rendition of Buffy was on one side, her mom on the other. Dawn felt a tear well up at the visions of her family so lovingly painted in detail on the inside of the silver star locket. Dawn clasped the chain around her neck and cast a curious look upstairs as she heard a dull thump. She fingered the star as she moved to the wooden banister and stealthily climbed upstairs. She pressed her ear to Buffy's door and heard a soft sigh followed by gentle rustling. She bit back a giggle and called out, "Thanks Spike." There was utter silence then she heard a distinctive embarrassed groan from her sister.

Spike hugged a red faced Buffy as she buried her face into his neck. He almost laughed but instead he stroked a hand through Buffy's golden hair, pressed a kiss to her shoulder and called out, "Merry Christmas, LittleBit. Got any blood in the fridge?"

The End

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