One Good Lay | Arizona by Jypzrose

Arizona
Chapters 13-15

Written by: Jypzrose
Author's Website

Summary: Druscilla followed Angel into hell. Buffy did leave, but never went back to Sunnydale, due to an unforeseen circumstance of that day. Now known as Anne, she lives in a small town, outside of Tombstone, Arizona working as a stripper. Spike finds her. What secrets does she have to tell, and can they get beyond the pain of the past to start a future together?
Spoilers: Through the end of Season 2
Disclaimer: If I owned any of it, Buffy and Spike would be together, minus chip AND soul. All characters belong to Joss, except Mark, he is a creation of my own mind, and I intend to keep him! So there.
Distribution: Here and at Libidinous Desires, anywhere else, email me first, jypzrose@aol.com
Author's Notes: Special thanks- to my beta suzy, you are the best, and kumi, for without her, you would not be able to read this. Love you gals.
Feedback: jypzrose@aol.com

Chapter 13

Anne came awake just as the pre-dawn sun started to filter in through the window. Disentangling herself with little grace from Spike's arms, she hurried as quickly as her pounding head would allow to pull the curtains safely closed. With a sigh of relief, she turned back towards the bed, then choked back a giggle, which turned into a groan of pain from her head. Spike laid sprawled out on the bed, jeans around his knees, and his red shirt splayed open around him. Crossing her arms over her chest and enjoying the view, she remembered her own state and glanced down at herself with a grimace. She was only wearing her jean skirt, and it was pushed high over her hips. She was glad that Spike had the presence of mind to shut the door, or else Matt might've had the shock of his young life stumbling into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Trying hard not to groan again, she moved towards the dresser. Opening a drawer, she dug aimlessly through the contents, stopping when she saw it. She brushed her fingers over the soft black cotton of the long forgotten friend, and smiled. Pulling it out, she gave it a good shake, and slipped it over her head. She had worn his t-shirt all through her pregnancy, and for the first year of Matt's life, usually to sleep in. Then, one day, she folded it up and put it away, much like a child puts away his security blanket. She hadn't thought she needed it anymore, the pain of losing Angel, and the aloneness she felt after Spike left had decreased with the birth of Matt. The older he got, the less she wore it, until the day she tucked it into the bottom of her dresser, never to be worn again.

She realized now, as she looked back at the sleeping figure of the vampire, that she would always need it. Need him. With another smile, she dropped her skirt to the floor, and went in search of a fresh pair of panties. Relishing the sticky soreness between her legs, she slipped the plain cotton thong over her legs. A sharp wave of arousal sliced through her as memories of the night before flashed through her brain.

She and Willow had gone to the bar that Mark had played, and then proceeded to drink themselves silly, laughing and giggling like school girls the whole way. She had regaled Willow with the one and only time she had seen Mark naked (by accident of course). He had given her a key, not telling her that he had a habit of sleeping nude. She had gone in to wake him and found that he had kicked the blankets off. She hadn't been able to look him in the eye for a week. And Willow'd had her practically rolling on the floor with her tales of Xander's attempts to woo the new Slayer.

Then, when they realized they were both too drunk to drive Anne's car, they'd shared a cab to get home. One look at Spike when she had walked through the door, or stumbled rather, she'd had to have him. Nothing was going to stop her, and she was just glad that he hadn't protested too much. It was better than she remembered. Maybe because it was done out of want instead of grief. That one day had branded them, made them the other's, whether they wanted to admit it or not. There was no life for her without him and Matt. The thought of losing either of them made her head swim, and her stomach turn dangerously. She couldn't help wondering if he felt the same.

Walking slowly towards the bed, she let the desire overtake her again, washing away the sickness that had threatened with that last, terrifying thought. Moving as carefully as she could, she knelt down to unlace his boots, gingerly divesting him of the bottom half of his clothes. He didn't stir while she did this, and the inane thought that he slept like the dead slid through her mind. Stifling the giggle that caused, she moved with the grace of a predator onto the bed, her eyes trained on the thick shaft resting against his thigh. She gently ran her fingertips through the coarse curls at the base, her eyes widening when he jerked. She looked up at him, and found herself pinned by the blue, swirling depths of his eyes. She could almost see forever in those eyes, and the way he was looking at her right now, like she was the only being on the planet, almost made her whimper. Everything was in those eyes, everything he thought, felt. William was in those eyes, forever laid out for the world to see if they just took a minute to look.

She kept her gaze locked with his, fascinated by the subtle darkening that occurred when she ran the tips of her fingers over the velvety soft skin of his now hard shaft. Still keeping eye contact, she fisted her hand around it, while bending over and barely sweeping her tongue over the tip. He hissed in unneeded air at the ghostly feel of her warm, wet tongue on his cool flesh. Blowing ever so lightly on the tip, she watched as those brilliant eyes changed to the dark blue of midnight. Her teeth nipped him next, and he nearly reared off the bed, eyes flashing yellow and a low growl rumbled in his chest. A smile of pure feminine delight curled her lips, and she experimentally flicked her tongue over the slit, tasting the salty pre-cum that had pooled there.

"Jesus, Buffy," he gasped, his voice hoarse, his accent thick. Anne felt a rush of pleasure flow through her at his whispered words. She felt powerful, and in control, with him at her mercy. He made no move to stop her, or encourage her to do more. Just kept watching her with those bottomless eyes that saw straight to her soul, his unneeded breathing shallow.

"What do you want, Spike?" she whispered back, the dampness in her panties growing by the second. Another swipe of her tongue made the growl turn louder, and his hips surge up, begging. "What?"

"Please, pet," Spike purred, feeling like he would die again if he didn't feel her mouth on him, surrounding him, right now. The contrast of her heat against his cool length was driving him insane, and he needed to feel it all. The sight of her in one of his shirts moving him.

"Please what?" She continued to play with him, barely touching him with her tongue, brushing her lips against the shaft with whispered touches. Her hot, tiny hand surrounded him, holding him where she wanted. All the while, their eyes remained locked, as if the spell around them would be broken if they looked away.

"Take it in, kitten. I want to feel your mouth around me," he gasped, coming the closest to begging he ever had in his unlife. She pulled back slightly, studying his face, the harsh planes of his cheeks, the smooth line of his jaw, the high slope of his forehead. Then, a wicked smile spread over her face, making him shiver with the felineness of it. He sighed in relief than nearly choked with pleasure when she finally eased her mouth over him. He finally closed his eyes, his head thrown back as she slid her tongue over the satiny skin of his pulsating member. It was amazing to her, that life could flow from this supposedly dead body. The doctor could never determine what had caused her pregnancy, finally deciding that Slayer and vampire physiology were just compatable. She had forbade Giles from looking for prophecies when she had finally called her mother and told her about her grandchild.

A thought struck her then. What if they had done it again? Neither had even thought about birth control the night before, and here they were getting ready to go again. What if they created another child?

An almost giddy feeling enveloped her then, and she sucked hard on him, her moan answering his. She ran her tongue over the underside of his shaft, just under the tip, making him writhe in ecstasy. His fingers convulsed in the quilt, and his legs were moving restlessly over the bed. She slid him all the way into her mouth, her tongue laving his skin as she went. When she felt him hit the back of her throat, she pulled back, allowing him to almost slip from her mouth, before doing it again.

Spike was sure he was dangerously close to exploding, her hot mouth and tongue burning him. Wave after wave of heat and want hit him, making him dizzy as she continued to devour him like he was her favorite treat. When she moaned again, the vibrating of her throat against him made his sac start to tighten, and he knew he was close.

"Buffy. . ." he tried to warn her, but his voice was lost when she did it again, sucking him so hard her cheeks hollowed out. He arched off the bed as he started to pulse in her mouth, her throat convulsing around him as she swallowed every shot of his cold semen. He growled loudly as the tremors rolled over him, and he saw stars burst behind his eyelids as he slowly came down. When she finally let him slip from her mouth, he reached blindly for her, dragging her up his body to claim her mouth with his, his tongue sliding in to taste the salty taste of his spendings. One hand fisted in her hair as the other sought out her heat, sliding past her panties and pushing two fingers deep inside. She gasped in his mouth, her hips rocking against his hand, pushing his probing fingers deeper still. His thumb circled her clit, turning her moans into mewls as the sensation built in her abdomen, slowly unfurling to explode brightly through her. Her scream was lost in his kiss, as she bucked wildly, her inner muscles clamping hard over his fingers.

While she was still riding the waves of her orgasm, he flipped them, managing to shrug out of his shirt. The kiss never ended, the constant thrust and retreat of their tongues in time with his thrust into her core. Whimpers and moans filled the room, a sensual music for their bodies to dance to. One strong hand gripped her thigh, pulling it up so he could push deeper, the tip of his shaft hitting her inner sweet spot, just as his pelvic bone hit her clit. She nearly sobbed as her second orgasm crashed over her, and she ripped her mouth from his to bury her teeth in his neck, trying to keep her scream inside. The feel of her blunt teeth in his throat, and her heat ruthlessly squeezing him sent him careening after her, and he buried his lips against her throat, the feel of his fangs sending her into her most powerful climax.

They lay trembling in each other's arms, Spike's tongue lazily drawing patterns in the blood on her throat. She nibbled lightly on the teeth marks she'd left in his alabaster skin, soothing it with kisses. When those eyes sought hers out again, she felt herself drowning in them, an unnamed emotion swimming in their depths.

"I love you," he whispered. She felt joy bloom in her chest at his soft confession, the uncertainty in his eyes nearly breaking her heart. Raising a finger to trace over his scarred dark brow, she struggled for a moment to find her own voice, tears leaking from her eyes. He gently kissed them away, concern marring his brow.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, her words so choked with emotion that he almost had to struggle to hear her. Wonder and awe softened his face, making him seem so young. Their arms tightened around each other, faces buried in throats once more as they both trembled, the force of their admissions making them weak.

After a few moments, Spike felt calm enough to raise his head again, and look into the shiny depths of her hazel eyes.

"How long til Matt gets up?" Confusion drew her brows again as she craned her neck to look at the clock.

"About an hour," she said after she cleared her throat. Her breath hitched as he began to rock inside of her again, his blue eyes nearly black.

"Not nearly enough time for me to show you how much I love you. But, it's a start."

~*~*~

Mark raised his hand and knocked loudly on the door, snickering when he heard the mumbled curse on the other side. He crushed his cigarette out under his boot, and smiled wide when Willow opened the door, looking a tad worse for wear. She struggled to focus her eyes on him against the glare of the hot Arizona sun at his back, glaring at him for disturbing her from dying. The glare disappeared when he produced a large cup of coffee under her nose. She snatched it from him, then turned to walk back into the room, leaving him to follow. She didn't care about manners at the moment, her head hurt too bad. Chuckling, he walked inside, closing the door behind him to shut them in the dark interior of the room.

"Good morning," he said in a voice that was way too chipper for the hungover Willow. Grunting in response, she crawled back onto the bed, savoring the hot brew like it was ambrosia. "Somebody not feeling too well this morning?" She glared at him again, whimpering against the pain behind her eyes.

"Shut up," she growled. He pursed his lips to keep the laugh back, not feeling like being turned into something small and slimy.

"Looks like you need a little hair of the dog," he suggested, moving to sit next to her on the bed. She practically turned green.

"No, no hair of the dog. Drinking is bad. I should have learned my lesson the last time," she grumbled.

“What happened last time?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in question. Her pallor changed from pale to a bright crimson when she realized what she had let out. Yes, drinking was definitely bad.

"Nothing," she replied, most of her answer lost in the Styrofoam cup she held. One look at her told him it wasn't nothing.

"What, did you do something really embarrassing?" he goaded, reaching out to pull one tiny foot into his lap and running his thumb over the arch. She hummed in response.

"Sorta," she admitted, hoping to leave it at that.

"Oh, come on. You can tell me. I can assure you, I've done some crazy things in my twenty eight years. I don't judge," he said with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

"Trust me, you don't want to know this," Willow insisted, trying to concentrate on the feel of his hand on her foot, and not the hazy memories of the past.

"What, did you have indiscriminant sex? We all do. Not the most fun to be had, but, it happens." She blanched at that, wondering if Buffy had told him. That was a little too close to the truth. He looked up at her then, and noticed the look on her face. "Ah, that was is it." He grinned a little, delighted that there was a touch of bad girl lurking under her shy facade. He found himself imagining that liaison with him in the starring role with her, knowing full well that he wouldn't have been able to leave it at just once.

"Why do you want to know so bad?" She sounded harsher than she had meant, and his thumb stilled in its ministration.

"You don't have to tell me," he said, sounding a little hurt. Sighing in disgust, she cursed the fragility if male egos.

"Look, it was Xander. Not exactly something I like to admit. I had just gotten dumped, he was still hurting from Cordy leaving, and we got drunk. I don't remember much, other than waking up in the morning feeling like I had just slept with my brother. Not altogether a pleasant feeling," she snapped, trying to pull her foot out of his lap. He tightened his hand over her ankle, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she finally did, he started to stroke the soft flesh of her ankle.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed," he said, sounding sincere. She felt her ire deflate, and offered him a tight smile.

"No, I'm sorry. It still kinda squicks me out, and I don't like to remember it so much," Willow told him. He smiled at that, running his hand higher up her leg. When she shivered, she became acutely aware that she was only dressed in a pair of old boxer shorts and a tank top. She had managed to change before falling into bed, and she had grabbed the first thing she could find. Heat coursed from the spot under his hand straight the very center of her. Her emerald eyes shot to his, and she saw the burning desire shining in their black depths.

"Mark," she began, finding her voice lost when his fingers grazed the inner side of her knee. He didn't say anything, just kept up the light strokes, venturing ever higher, idly wondering if she was going to stop him. She whimpered when he reached the bottom of her shorts, feeling her nipples pebble in response. She watched in fascination as he raised her leg, and brushed his lips across her ankle. "Ah" was all she could manage as his hand continued forward while his tongue darted out to taste her skin. She hadn't realized he had moved closer, her already cloudy mind becoming even more fuddled with his touch. When his searching fingers brushed against the cotton of her panties, her hips surged forward, desperately seeking his touch.

"Willow," he gasped, raising to one knee, and turning his long frame towards her. She was laying back against the pillow, her skin hot and cold at the same time, her heart galloping in her chest. This was it, she knew somewhere in her conscious. This was her decision. Did she tell him to stop and walk away, or did she take a chance, and allow him into her life? Staring up into the black pools of his eyes, she suddenly realized that she had never had a choice. He was everything.

"Mark, please. . .touch me," she breathed, sighing in relief when he did just that. Two long, guitar roughened fingers slipped past the barrier of cotton and plunged deep inside her tight, wet core. She cried out in pleasure as he stroked her, her entire body trembling as he brought her to a swift, long overdue orgasm. His name fell from her lips as she writhed helplessly against the bed. She cried out when he pulled his fingers away, only to hiss in a desperate breath when he quickly stripped her of her shorts and panties. Rearing up, she pulled her shirt over her head, exposing the creamy, rose tipped softness of her full breasts. He groaned in response, reaching one hand up to the collar of his shirt to pull it off. He stood to kick off his boots. She watched in avid interest as each inch of bronze skin was exposed. Hard planes, and long length defined him, from the tight muscled of his calves and thighs, over his flat, ridged stomach, to the well defined pecks. Her eyes widened when she finally allowed them to drift to the very obvious evidence of his want for her. Long and thick, she had a moments panic at whether or not she could take it. Then, his mouth was on hers and it didn't matter any more. She accepted him between her thighs, feeling as if they were made to fit together.

He was pressed against her, his lips feasting on hers, his tongue urgent and demanding. The tip of his shaft rested at the opening of her tight entrance, his hands claimed her breasts, teasing and pulling on the nipples until they peaked even tighter, sending pulses along her nerves, making her moan. Her fingers tangled in the long length of his hair, then coursed restlessly over his back, her hips grinding against him, begging him to take her. He tore his mouth away from hers, to stare deep into the dark emerald of her eyes, as he slowly began to enter her. Inch by agonizing inch he slid inside, allowing her to adjust to his girth, struggling not to just pound into her until they were both a quivering mass of nerve endings.

She arched into him, urging him to move quicker, fill her more. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he lowered his head to capture a dusky nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue and gently grazing it with his teeth. She rocked against him, her beautiful dark warrior, wanting to be with him, inside of him, filling him with the same incredible feeling he was filling her with. She brought her legs up and hooked them behind his back, thrusting up with her hips, telling him silently that she wasn't waiting anymore. He never ceased his feasting on her flesh, just moved to the other soft mound, while he began to move, his body taut with his fight for control. She was so tight, so hot, the taste of her skin so sweet. She ran her hands through his hair, and over his back, then up again, her body moving rhythmically beneath him, trying to race towards release. Responding to her urging, he pumped harder, faster, longer pushing them both closer and closer to the edge. She met him, thrust for thrust, soft moans and groans filling the air around them.

Suddenly, heat exploded around her, through her, and she keened long and high, his name almost like a prayer on her lips. With her moans echoing in his ears, and her body clenching around him, he roared against her skin, thrusting as far as he could, his shaft pulsing deep within her. They lay, wrapped around each other while the tremors ran their course, a peace like they had never felt before settling over them.

Raising his head to kiss her once more, he rolled them until she was sprawled against his chest, his already hardening cock still buried deep in her tiny body. She pulled away from him, and sat up, rising above him to take charge, feeling free and wild and desired. He sat back and let her control the depth and speed, his black eyes taking in her pale skin, the wild toss of her vivid hair, the deep green of her eyes. Bringing a hand between them, he stroked her clit through the russet curls at the apex of her thighs, relishing her cries of pleasure. His other hand steadied her as she began slamming against him harder, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. She shuddered above him as she flew over the edge again, her inner muscles clenching hard around him, and sending him flying after her. Her name fell from his lips as he came inside of her, buried to the hilt.

Exhausted and sated for the moment, Willow slumped over his chest, her tiny body shaking as he wrapped her in his strong embrace.

After a few moments, his whispered question made her giggle.

"Hangover gone?"

Chapter 14

"Why are we here, Mommy?" Matt asked, watching his mother as she knocked on the door. He wanted to go home and see Daddy, not stop and talk to Willow.

"Because, honey, I need somebody to drive my car back to the house. And Mark's not home," she answered for what seemed like the millionth time. She stifled a yawn behind her fist, then knocked on the door again. "Come on, Will. If I've gotta be up, you gotta be up." Or maybe that's the problem, she thought with a giggle. She had seen Mark's car parked outside her room, and had jumped to the obvious conclusions. She didn't feel bad about interrupting them, either. Anne and Spike had managed to scramble into some clothes when they heard the small voice on the other side of the door that morning. Matt had been ecstatic when she had pulled it open, and he saw his father sitting on the edge of the bed, looking decidedly yummy to Anne, with his sleep tousled, white locks, and just his jeans on. He had launched at his father, erupting into a fit of giggles when he, then Anne, started to tickle him. He had then started to pout when he asked if his daddy could take him to school. They'd had to remind him that Daddy couldn't go out in the sun, but, since Mommy's car was still at the bar, he could ride to school in Daddy's big, black car. Matt had decided that that was cool, since Daddy's car had the nifty blacked out windows. Anne, however, didn't find it so nifty when she had to drive the tank to the school, her only means of seeing a small patch of glass the size of her forearm.

Once she had returned home, the day was spent with more love making. Anne was surprised that she could still walk at this point, and it was an uncomfortable chore. Then, she had picked Matt up and went to Willow's hotel hoping to get her to drive her car home. Now that she saw Mark was there, she was going to con him into driving the DeSoto home. *If they ever answer* she thought testily, pounding on the door this time. Finally, she heard some muffled cursing, and a grin split her face. *Oh, yeah. Something was definitely up, alright*

When the door swung open, she was presented with the very surly face of her manly best friend. His long locks were in disarray, and he only had on his jeans. A quick peek around him showed that the room was empty, so she assumed that Willow was in the bathroom.

"What?" he practically growled. Anne just grinned at him.

"Hi, Unca Mark. What're you doin here? And where's your shirt?" Matt asked, confusion marring his brow. Anne snorted, turning it into a cough when Mark glared at her. Her eyes were dancing while she looked at him, wondering how he would answer the innocent question.

"I spilled something on it," he answered, smiling down at the boy. Luckily he seemed to accept it. "What are you guys doing here? Come to see Spike and decided to stop by?"

"Nah, Daddy's at home. He was there when I woke up." Mark's eyebrows shot up, and he gave Anne his own grin, snickering at the red staining her cheeks.

"Did he spill something on his shirt too?" Mark asked, biting his lip to keep his laugh back.

"Yeah, something like that. Want to help do car duty?" She asked, hoping to shift the conversation. Just then, Willow emerged, dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Her face was flaming, and she had that glow. Anne couldn't have been happier for her friend. "Hi, Will."

"Hi. What's up?" she asked, pushing her red hair out of her face.

"Came to see who wants to help me get my car back to my house." She looked between them expectantly. Mark sighed, and went to pull on his shirt.

"Why don't we all go. That way, nobody's stuck. Can you drive a stick?" He looked at Willow, ignoring the snorting Anne was doing.

"Now, that's a loaded question," she mumbled, delighting in the flustered face of Willow, and the glaring face of Mark. Matt stared between the three adults, wondering what his mommy was laughing at, and why Mark was putting his shirt back on if it was dirty. "We'll just wait over here," she said with a snicker, pulling Matt with her back to Spike's car. Just as their door slammed, the one next to it opened, and Anne froze. There, looking for all the world like he had been on a three day bender, was Xander. They just stared at each other for a long moment, each noting the differences that were evident in the other. Xander was more muscular then she remembered, and his hair was cut shorter than he used to keep it. He was dressed in his usual blue jeans and weird shirt combo, with heavy work boots on his feet. He looked pale, save for the swollen nose, and the two sick looking black eyes. Anne felt her anger grow as she looked at him, the reason he had those bruises coming back to her.

Mark and Willow exited the room, just as the tension got to be unbearable. They had been smiling like teenagers, but almost as soon as they saw the stricken look on Anne's face, they sobered.

"Oh, goddess," Willow murmured, as she looked between her two friends. Matt ran over to Mark, not liking the feeling he was getting from his mommy and the stranger with the hurt face. Mark immediately handed Matt to Willow, who in turn, took the boy back into her room, whispering to him quietly.

"Xander." Anne finally found her voice, the word coming out sharp and angry. He flinched a bit, but took a step forward. Mark just watched them both, waiting.

"Buffy." He ducked his head a bit, his dark eyes imploring her to say something. She stood rod straight, one hand braced on the hood of the DeSoto, the other fisted at her side.

"I don't know what you expect me to say to you," she said, tilting her head to the side, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes were snapping with hurt, and anger, her jaw set tight.

"Nothing. I don't expect you to say anything," he said, hazarding another step. He felt like he was in the tiger's cage at the zoo, and he had to approach carefully or risk getting mauled. She just watched him, her stance prepared for anything.

"Then why did you come?" Xander sighed, thankful that she was going to listen to him, before she reminded him that she was the Slayer, and finished the job Spike started.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. So sorry for what happened," he started.

"Sorry for what?" she bit out, cutting him off. "For telling me my child was a freak, or for attacking Spike while his back was turned?" Anger flared across his face before he could reign it back. She merely arched a brow, waiting for his excuses.

"I never told you your child was a freak," he defended, deciding to stay away from the Spike issue for a moment.

"Didn't you?" Her voice was mocking, and she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "Maybe not in so many words. But, I definitely think the phrase 'it doesn't have to ruin your life' could be construed that way. And that still doesn't explain what happened with Spike," she reminded him, not letting him off the hook.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said about that. I just hadn't expected you to actually WANT a child of a vampire. Especially if that vampire wasn't Angel." Anne shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her.

"You never really knew me, did you?" she asked quietly, glancing over at Mark, her constant champion, and then back to Xander, her constant judge. "He gave me a life. A life I was never supposed to have. I was supposed to keep saving the world until it killed me. Most likely before I turned eighteen. And it almost did. He was there when the one I thought I could trust wasn't." She looked pointedly at him, glad that he hung his head in shame. "He helped me when you didn't. And when I found out that I was pregnant, after the initial WTF wore off, I was thrilled. It didn't matter to me what Spike was, or wasn't. He was the father of my child, and that's all that mattered. The world isn't as black and white as you like to make it."

"Oh, and you're trying to tell me that Spike is all good now? He's SOULLESS Buffy. He can't be the only soulless demon walking around that doesn't like to do evil," Xander shot back.

"How do you know? Have you walked up and personally asked any?" He didn't answer her, and she heaved a weary sigh. "I don't know what makes him different than all the others, Xander. Nor do I care. I just know that he is."

"How?" he shot back.

"Because he loves me," she replied defiantly. When Xander laughed, she nearly launched at him.

"He can't love, Buffy. He's a demon. It's only a matter of time before he remembers that you're the Slayer and tries to kill you again. And your son." Rage twisted her face at his words, and it almost blinded her with it's white hot intensity.

"He's been looking for me for FOUR AND A HALF YEARS Xander. Because he couldn't stop thinking about me. He wants me, and his child. NOT for a snack. He's had plenty of opportunity to kill me, and Matt, and he hasn't. Don't sit there and tell me things that you THINK you know." Mark watched the exchange with a growing dislike for the man, wanting to pummel him himself.

"He's just lulling you into a false sense of security."

"Man, do you EVER change your tune?" Mark's voice was dripping with disgust. Xander just glared at him, then turned his attention back to Anne,

"He's a VAMPIRE, Buff. No sunlight, no parent-teacher meetings. No taking the kid to the park for a game of catch. What kind of father can he be after dark?" he asked her, deciding to change tactics. He could tell he had hit on something that she had worried about herself, when she shifted away from him slightly. "How do you plan to explain that to your son?"

"He already knows," she shot back. She nearly laughed at the way Xander's eyes bugged. Although, the busted vessels in the whites made it look grisly.

"You told him?"

"No, he guessed. We just confirmed. Want me to lie to him?" She took a step forward, keeping her arms crossed so as not to be tempted to add to the destruction of his face.

"No, but isn't it scary for him? God, he must be terrified." Xander's heart contracted for the tiny child.

"You just saw him, did he look terrified? He thinks it's cool." She and Mark shared a smile over that one. Willow chose that moment to come out, motioning for Mark to go inside with Matt. These were her friends, and she knew their history. She felt that she should be the one moderating, and Matt was more comfortable with Mark. The tall Indian glared at Xander one last time, before slipping into the room. Willow turned to her friends, anger and guilt crossing her features. Xander now found himself faced with the two women that he loved more than anything, who were looking at him with such contempt it hurt.

"Xander, enough. You can't make her decisions for her anymore than you an make mine. If you want even a slim chance at staying in her life, you're just going to have to get over it. Spike is in their lives, to stay. Deal with it, or go back to Sunnydale," Willow said, walking closer to them.

"What about you? Just going to stay here and play house with the Indian? What about school? And the Hellmouth? Or are you just going to conveniently forget evil, too?" She flinched back like he had struck her, and her eyes widened.

"Don't start that. I don't know what's going to happen. But you can't expect it to be the three of us, only, forever. You fucked it up with Cordelia because you couldn't let go. You haven't been in a decent relationship since. All because of your fixation on Buffy. If her Watcher can get over the fact that she had a baby by a vampire, why can't you?" She asked, huffing at the end. Anne watched the two, waiting for Xander's reply.

"Because, Giles has gotten wrapped up in Joyce's emotions, and all they want is Buffy back. They can't seem to realize that what happened was just WRONG."

"No, what's wrong is you. You said you were my friend. You said you loved me, but apparently it comes with a price, doesn't it? I had to stay the perfect Slayer. Fight evil, kill vampires, protect the world from evil. Certainly never fall in love with not just one, but two of the beings I'm supposed to slay. Well, tough. It happened, and I'm not going to let you, or anyone, tell me how to live my life. Or what I'm supposed to be fighting for. My son, and my family is all I care about. And if you don't chill out, and get over this. . .prejudice, you have no place in my life," Anne told him, closing the circle so they were all within arm's reach of each other.

"I don't know if I can do that," he admitted quietly. Willow's heart went out to him then, but she didn't reach for him. He had to deal with this, and realize that he had been wrong.

"Then, I guess this is it. Don't try to be something you can't be, Xander. But don't try to apply your way of thinking to everything I do. It's my life, and I have been living pretty well for the last five years. I have everything I need, right here. And that includes Spike." Anne looked at him for a long minute, then turned to go get her son. Xander stood with his head hung low, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. He jerked when Willow touched his arm, his eyes wary.

"You going to let me have it now?" he asked, miserably.

"No. I love you, Xan. But, it's time to let go." She squeezed his arm, then turned away to join the others in her room. Xander stood there, watching her back disappear, hurt that it seemed they didn't need him anymore. Then again, when had anybody really needed him? Fighting back the wave of pain that threatened to cripple him, he went back to his room. He still had another bottle to finish.

~*~*~

"Daddy!" Matt ran through the door, and straight into the arms of his father. Giggling as he was spun around, he whispered into Spike's ear when he came to a stop. "Mommy's sad." Spike raised his scarred brow, and turned towards the adults that were filing inside. Anne was carrying his duffle bag from the hotel, her eyes tired and just a little gloomy. Willow followed her, her face an exact replica of Anne's. Mark took up the rear, anger clearly etched on his dark features.

"Well, did you have a party without me? Looks like I missed out on all the fun," he quipped, setting Matt on his feet to draw Anne into his arms.

"I saw Xander" was all she said, her arms banding tight around him. She felt him go rigid, and she ran her hands down his back, trying to ease his tension.

"I didn't like him, Daddy. He looked mean," Matt interjected. Spike grinned down at the boy, giving him a wink.

"Smart boy we have there," Mark grunted in agreement, dropping tiredly onto the couch. Willow curled up next to him, her head on his chest. Spike watched them, biting back his smirk. From the looks on their faces, and the smell that drifted towards him, they must have had as productive a morning as he and Anne. But, there was a child in the room, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Matt, go play for a bit, okay?" Anne said, ruffling his dark curls. He nodded and scampered off, still not liking the feelings he was getting from the adults. Spike drew Anne towards the recliner, settling his long frame into it, then pulling her into his lap. She sighed contentedly as his coolness and scent surrounded her, making her feel complete. Xander just had no idea what real love was, she decided, drinking in the feeling as it permeated the air around them.

"Was it bad?" Spike murmured into her hair. She shrugged a bit, her eyes locking with Willow's.

"It could have been worse, I suppose. He's still so angry," she said, sadly.

"That's his problem, not yours," Mark supplied, draping his arm around Willow. She snuggled closer to him, her mind revolving around the doubt Xander had planted. What kind of a future did they have? She wondered. He lived in Arizona, and seemed very content to be here. Her life was in California. How would they make it work? She snaked an arm around his waist, holding him tight. She was halfway close to admitting that she was in love with him, how could she go back to her life without him? Too many questions with no answers.

"Tonto's right. Can't let the way other people think affect your judgement. It's your life, you have to what's right for you," Spike said, holding her closer.

"I know. I didn't let him influence me before, I'm not going to now. I just feel so sorry for him," she answered with a sigh. Nobody said anything to that, because really, there was nothing to say. They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, until Matt returned wanting to watch tv. Then, they spent the remainder of the day each lost in their own thoughts, while Matt happily chattered away.

Chapter 15

"Buffy, I'm so sorry," Willow said as the girls moved around the kitchen, making something to eat.

"For what? I hope not Xander. His prejudice isn't your fault," Anne said, pulling a mug out from the cabinet. She then cut open the blood packet and dumped the contents inside. Willow waited until she had put the mug in the microwave and turned back to her before speaking again.

"No, not that. It's just. . ." she looked out the window into the fading day, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Willow." Anne walked over to her friend, and placed a hand on her arm. "What is it?" A tear slid from Willow's eye, and she brushed it away.

"I think, that I'm partially to blame for Spike taking so long to find you," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" Willow looked at her again, and sighed.

"The last time Spike came to town, I knew you had a son. I didn't know who his father was, I swear. But, Joyce told us that if Spike came through again, to tell him that she wanted to see him." Anne's eyes widened at that. Her mother, was trying to help her? Guilt and love warred inside of her, but she shook them away to listen to Willow's confession.

"I'm guessing you didn't?" There was no accusation in the tone, merely curiosity. Willow shook her head, pressing her lips together to hold back her tears.

"Xander convinced me not to. Said it would only cause unneeded trouble. And, I just went along with him. After that, was when I found your mother with the picture. It was all I could do not to chase Spike myself. If I'd have know, Buffy, I would've told him. Especially since it was so obvious that Joyce wanted him to know. I'm sorry." The last was said so quietly, that Anne had to struggle to hear her. Willow squeezed her friend back when she felt the strong arms surround her.

"It's okay, honey. You didn't know. I didn't exactly send out announcements when he was born. You, at least, were acting on the information that you knew. I'm sure Xander didn't tell you that Spike was the father for his own selfish reasons." Anne pulled back, and wiped the tears away from her friend's cheeks.

"I just. . .So much wasted time. I don't see how he's not seething with jealousy and anger at Mark for being there since the beginning, and Xander and me for not telling. I would be," Willow said with a sniff. Anne snorted a little.

"I'm sure he was jealous of Mark. Actually, I KNOW he was. But, they seemed to work it out. I mean look." The women moved to the open area over the kitchen bar and looked into the loving room. There, the two males were smoking, and discussing the merits and differences of each of their country's versions of football, Matt sitting on Spike's lap and hanging on every word. Spike was a steadfast soccer fan. And Mark was a diehard football fan. Both made Anne and Willow cringe. Chuckling, they turned away from the male bonding and started to gather the sandwiches they had made for dinner. "As for the pissed off part. I'm sure he is, at Xander. He would probably understand your involvement, because you have been so accepting of him now."

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?" She turned back towards the redhead, smiling at the lines of worry that still marred her smooth brow.

"Do you ever worry about what the future will bring? I mean since Spike got here," she finished quickly. A frown formed on Anne's face as she thought about it.

"Yeah. I have. I mean, this is so not the norm. He's a vampire and I was the Slayer. Not supposed to be mixy. But, I gotta say, SOMEBODY must have some greater plan for us, if they allowed a child to come from us. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. A Slayer and a vampire. I don't know. I'm scared that he might decide to leave. Not like the family thing and go back to the killing. I don't think he will. He hasn't killed in five years, but eternity is a long time. Who knows? Then, there's that. Me and Matt won't live forever. How is he going to handle watching us grow old and die, while he's forever young? I just don't know, Will. And I try not to think about it. The here and now is what's important. Why do you ask?" Anne could sense that there was something else behind the question. Could tell by the look in the clear, green eyes staring back at her. Willow ducked her head, so her bright hair hid her face.

"What Xander said this afternoon, about me and Mark. He's right. My life is in California. Mark's is here. How do we make that work?" Anne walked over to her friend and wrapped her in her arms once more.

"All I can say is talk to him. He's a pretty terrific guy. Who knows, he just may decide that life on the Hellmouth could be fun," she said with a smile. "Are you in love with him?" Willow's eyes shot to hers, and the look in them gave her her answer.

"I think so," Willow admitted quietly. Anne's smile was huge.

"Then, you do everything possible to stay together," she said with finality.

"HEY! Where's the food?!" Spike's voice reached them from the living room. Rolling their eyes, the girls disentangled themselves from each other. Willow grabbed the tray with the food, and Anne grabbed Spike's mug from the microwave. Together, they walked back into the living room, to the cheers of the men.

~*~*~

With flourish, Mark pushed open the door of his apartment, and watched Willow as she preceded him inside. She moved to the center of the room, arms wrapped around herself as she waited for him to follow her. Throwing his keys onto the table by the entrance, he flipped the lightswitch and bathed the room in the soft light of three lamps. Willow took in her surroundings, liking the way his apartment looked. The front door opened into the rather large living room/ dining area. To the left was the dark oak dining table and chairs. As well as guitar stand, complete with guitar and amp. The living room was on the right. A large, comfy looking hunter green couch was turned facing the right wall where the entertainment center was standing. Two matching chairs flanked that. The coffee table and end tables were made to look rustic and woodsy, like a frontiersman had built them out of sticks they found in the forest. One lamp sat on each end table, the clay bottom reminiscent of Indian pottery. The third lamp was sitting on top of the tv. Around the room, she could see the evidence of his Indian heritage. Pictures of tribal rituals adorned the walls, as well as a painted portrait of an Indian maiden in full regalia. Next to it, was a picture of Mark, and an old woman. Moving closer, Willow inspected it.

The old woman was much shorter than Mark, barely reaching his stomach. Her long, gray and black hair hung over her shoulder in a braid. Life and laugh lines etched her face, and her eyes sparkled merrily, making her seem much younger than her obvious years. She carried the aura of good living, and Willow found herself instinctively liking the woman in the picture.

"Old Indian grandmother?" she asked with a smile. Mark had been watching her from his position by the door as she took in his belongings. A part of him recognized how much she belonged there. With him. He pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to her, sliding his hands over her shoulders and peering down at the picture himself. Willow sighed and leaned back into him.

"Yep. That's her. That was taken last year at her birthday." He smiled fondly at the memory. Rose Lynch looked at aging as a badge of honor. Every line and every grey hair had a story to tell, she often said. She had turned seventy that day, and she was as beautiful to Mark then, as she had been in her youth.

"What happened to your parents?" she asked. He had never mentioned them, and she had a feeling it wasn't good. A sad smile touched his lips, but she didn't see, she was still looking at the picture.

"Car crash. I was five." She turned in his arms then, and wrapped hers around his waist. Her green eyes raised to meet his, sympathy swimming in their depths.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He smiled, and raised a hand to run it over her hair.

"It's alright. It was a long time ago. And, I got to be raised by my grandparents. Gramps was determined to turn me into the proper warrior. Of course, he was baffled that I was more interested in playing the guitar than learning how to properly hunt a deer." He chuckled a bit. Her own laugh joined his. "Poor old man never did quite know what to do with me." A look of fond remembrance crossed his features, and he smiled down at Willow.

"I'd like to meet them," she said, resting her cheek against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feel of him in her arms dispelling any doubts she had been harboring. They would find a way.

"Well, Rose is no problem. She would love to get a hold of you and tell you all my dirty secrets." She snorted at that. "Harry, though. Harry I'm afraid went to meet the Great Spirit five years ago. Heart attack." She didn't say I'm sorry again, but, it was written all over her expressive face when she looked up at him. "What about your folks?" he asked. Immediately regretting it when a cloud flooded her eyes.

"They've spent the better part of the last twenty two years alternating between ignoring me and studying me," she said, a trace of bitterness lacing her words. "Kinda like an animal in the zoo." He reached up and cupped her cheek, sliding his thumb along her skin. The black of his eyes traveled over her face, a flare of anger at her parents' stupidity flashing through them.

"They're fools. How could they not know the treasure that God had given them?" Her eyes swam at that, the hurt her parents had unleashed on her over the years threatening to spill over. "Sh," he crooned, leaning down to tease her lips with his. She returned the gentle caresses with her own, seeking the hot tingles that only he could elicit. Her arms moved from his waist to his shoulders, her fingers playing in the silk of his hair as she crushed herself along his hard body. He tightened his arms around her, the kiss turning more passionate. Tongues, lips and teeth battled and soothed, heat coursing through their bodies.

In a grand gesture that rivaled any done by Rhett Butler to Scarlett O'Hara, Mark swept her up in his arms and carried her back to his bedroom. Once they were there, clothes came of swiftly, as if their passion would consume them in its fiery embrace. Once she was naked, and her pale, almost translucent skin was bathed in nothing but the moonlight filtering in from the windows, Mark laid her back on the bed. The first touch of his mouth to her heaving breast caused her to moan loudly. Her fingers fisted in his hair, as he nibbled slowly on the hard peak, his mustache tickling her skin and sending delicious shivers racing over her and straight to the very center of her being. His fingers danced along her flesh, the roughened digits memorizing every silken curve. He trailed his tongue across the valley of her breasts, to the other soft mound, giving it equal attention. She mewled softly when his fingers brushed the soft curls of her sex, and she surged her hips up to urge him on. She gasped when his tongue slid lazily down her stomach, dipping playful into her belly button, and then lower. There eyes locked when he kneeled on the floor between her thighs, his large, warm hands sliding between the bed and her buttocks. He gently kneaded the swells of her ass, his black eyes burning hers before he dipped his head to taste.

She reared off the bed at the first swipe of his tongue across her heated core. Her legs came up to wrap around his neck as he feasted greedily on her juices. Her fingers plucked uselessly on the comforter, her breaths came in shallow gasps as the throb in her center mirrored the strokes of his tongue on her sex. Alternating between her clit and her entrance, Mark slowly, langorioulsy brought her to the edge. When she was writhing beneath him, her hands desperately trying to push him closer to her, he stiffened his tongue and attacked her with a ferocity like no other. The sound of his name, followed by several 'Oh God's' broke his own hold on his control. While she was still trembling from the force of her climax, his nude body skimmed over hers, his shaft sliding effortlessly into her tight, fluttering heat.

They both groaned as he filled her, their joining seeming to be the one thing that could bring them peace. He kissed her deeply as he began to move, his hands gripping her knees and spreading her wide to his plundering thrusts. Her nails dug into the strong muscles of his shoulders, her hips grinding against his. Thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke they met, equal in passion. As he felt his orgasm start to take over, he tore his mouth away from hers, and buried his face in her hair. One of his hands moved between their sweat slicked bodies to find the hard nubbin. With a gentle twist, they crashed over the edge together.

"I love you, Willow," he gasped into her hair, shuddering violently with the force of his climax. She was just as moved beneath him, the strength of his words lightening her heart. When he raised his head to look at her, she ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He brushed a thumb over her lashes, gathering the moisture.

"I love you, too." She smiled at his slightly dumbfounded expression, and leaned up to kiss his surprise softened mouth. Slowly, they began to move together again, the force of their feelings pushing them to reiterate it, over and over. The room filled with soft moans and whispers of love as they fell into oblivion once more.

~*~*~

Spike moved through the house, silently turning off the lights and checking the locks. Anne was putting Matt to bed, and he could hear her quiet voice drift out of the room as he approached.

"Goodnight, honey," Anne said, leaning down to brush a kiss across his forehead.

"G'night Mommy. G'night Daddy," Matt said, turning his bright blue eyes on the blonde vampire. Spike moved into the room, and wrapped his child in his arms. It amazed him that the child never shied away from the coolness of his body. He often wondered what he, a soulless demon, had done to deserve these treasures. The love of the Slayer, and the miracle of a child.

"Goodnight, bit," he said, ruffling his hair. They stood together, and left the room, Anne flipping off the light as they left.

Moving into her room, they closed the door and fell into each other's arms. Gentle kisses and soft touches slid across skin as it was revealed to their hungry gazes. Sighs of contentment filled the air as he pushed slowly, reverently into her heat. Warm, silken limbs entwined with cool, smooth, muscular ones as they moved together in the dance of the ages. Movements became more urgent as their release approached, and with soft keens of love, they fell over into bliss. Afterwards, they curled around each other, the sound of his purr filling the air.

CONTINUED...

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