Summary: Takes place a few days after Spike is 'recorporealized'. Spoilers up to "Chosen", and AtS
season 5.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: Yes Please! @ snapkik@yahoo.com
Part one....
She had always wanted to live by the beach.
Now that she was actually doing it, she'd found that
it wasn't everything she'd imagined it to be.
Not that it wasn't beautiful. It was. The beaches
in Northern California were very different from the ones
she was used to, the ones she'd spent her summers on
ages ago...before all hell had broken loose in her life.
The first difference she'd noticed was the ocean it-
self. She'd gotten a good look at it as they'd traveled
up the coast, and the farther north they got, the darker
the water became. By the time they hit Carmel, it was
gray and frothy, churning against the huge rocks that
lined most of the shore. This water had not a hint of
the turquoise blue shades she'd seen before.
The beaches were not the friendly playgrounds she'd
remembered from her childhood. There were no expanses
of smooth, uncluttered sand warming in an afternoon sun.
The sand up north was cold and wet, and strewn with
thick ropes of kelp, twisted sculptures of driftwood, and
sea glass. Walking barefoot on it was just asking for
trouble.
Which was just as well, because it wasn't warm enough
to walk barefoot. In fact, not only did you need shoes and
thick socks, but you'd best have on a heavy sweater under
a jacket if you wanted to keep out the chill.
Buffy knew this, because she spent a great deal of time
walking the beach that was less than a mile from her
cottage.
The first day she'd gone out for a walk, the sky had
fooled her. Sun had been splashing playfully on the small
patio outside her bedroom. She'd thrown on a pair of
shorts and a t-shirt, shoved her feet into sandals, and
left the house with nothing but her keys...only to return
a half an hour later, shivering and damp.
She'd learned her lesson, though, and the next time
she'd ventured out, she had been dressed for the occasion.
Now, she hit the beach almost every day, and it
hadn't taken her long to discover one reason why this
beach was better than the ones she'd been raised near.
It was nearly empty.
She could walk for miles and never see more than one
or two other people. She left them alone, and they returned
the favor. Buffy had no interest in making friends. She
wanted to be alone, and lonely.
It was precisely what she deserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were all gone now, the people she had loved. One
by one, she'd driven them away.
Giles was back in England, trying to scrape together
a new council of watchers. He called once a week, and
they talked for a few minutes, but it wasn't the same
anymore. Too much pain and too many harsh words
had passed between them, words that could never be
taken back, deeds that could never be undone.
He had taken most of the remaining potentials with
him. Faith and Robin had gone along, too, and Buffy had
heard vague tales of a possible school being set up,
strictly for the education and the training of slayers.
She didn't care. She really didn't.
Willow and Kennedy had continued up the coast and
were living in San Francisco, the last she'd heard,
running a magic shop. Apparently, Wil had finally
been able to develop and maintain control of her powers.
Buffy wasn't interested.
And Xander. Xander had stayed for a while. Had pretended
that everything would be all right. He'd found a job in
Monterey, and a small apartment not too far from her own
house. In the evenings, he would show up and she would
make dinner. They talked a little. Sometimes watched a
movie. He would go home, and she would go to bed. On
the weekends, he would pick her up and take her on little
sightseeing tours. Fisherman's Wharf...Cannery Row...the
new aquarium.
But she never took him to her beach. Didn't want him there.
Not in her place. The place she went to be alone...and
think...and wish to God in heaven that she had done things
differently.
In the end, even Xander left. After more than one argument
passed between them, with cold accusatory words being
flung about like slaps across the face, he had packed his
things and given up the lease on his apartment. Said good-
bye.
And still....she didn't care.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dawn was the only one she could talk to now. The only
one who really understood. But Dawn had school, and
friends, and didn't always have the time to listen.
Or the inclination.
Which was all right. There just wasn't that much to
say anymore. Life had gone on, and Buffy was fine
with watching it from the sidelines. Someday, she'd
get back in the game.
When she felt like it. When she had a reason to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The timer on the microwave went off at the exact
same moment the phone rang. She took the warmed
up pizza out and set it on the kitchen table, then reached
for the phone.
"Hello...Who?....Oh, yeah...How are you?...Okay...I'm
sitting...Yes...Wha...WHAT?...WHEN?...Oh, god...Yes!
I'll be on the next flight out...NO!...No, please don't...Yes.
Thank you for calling...I will..."
Buffy slammed the handset back into the phone's
cradle so hard that it let out a tinny 'ding'. Anger began
to simmer inside of her as she dug up her wallet and
pulled out a credit card.
When she had the one she wanted, she reached for
the phone and punched in the number for information. She
scribbled down a phone number, disconnected the line and
redialed.
"Yes, hi. When's your next flight to L.A.?... Okay, I need to
be on it...Buffy Summers...Just one...That's fine....Master-
card....."
Part 2...
The terminal at Monterey Peninsula Airport was
crowded with travelers.
Buffy hadn't been on a plane since the horrors of
9/11 had occurred, and she found things to be quite
different. For one thing, security was unbelievably
tight. Everybody was searched and re-searched, then
run through a metal detector by airline employees
who seemed to be viewing everyone they saw as a
potential terrorist.
After removing all of her jewelry and dropping her
keys in the little dish, her tote bag still set off the
alarm. She was unceremoniously hauled to one side,
and made to dump the contents out for inspection.Her
antique silver compact turned out to be the culprit.
Buffy was beginning to wonder if she would have to
provide a hair sample and a pap smear in order to get
through security. She stared at the wall clock, knowing
she'd have to sprint through the airport to catch her
flight, and that action in itself would probably bring
another avalanche of security guards down on her head.
Finally, when she'd reached the point where she was
ready to begin knocking heads together, she was allowed
to proceed. Forcing herself not to run like a lunatic, she
made it to the gate in time to be the very last passenger
boarded.
As the plane ascended, the hassles of travel began
to fade from her mind, and the anger that had been
fueling her actions returned in full force. She stared
out the window, one thought reverberating over and
over again in her head...**This time, I'm gonna kill that
damn vampire**
*********************************************
She stepped out of the terminal at LAX, into a patch
of hot sunshine. Unfortunately, by this time, she was
so used to overcast skies and chilly weather, that she
recoiled from the glare, fumbling in her bag for a pair
of sunglasses.
A taxi pulled up to the curb, and she flagged it down.
Yanking open the door, she practically fell into the
back seat of the cab. The driver hardly gave her time
to close the door behind her before he swung the taxi
out into the traffic pattern.
"Where to, young lady?" he inquired, checking her
out in his rear view.
"1127 Spring Street in Los Angeles," Buffy
replied, reading from a scrap of paper. "It's a law
firm...Wolfram and Hart."
The driver nodded. "Know it well. About fifteen minutes
from here."
"Good," Buffy said quietly, crumpling the paper in a
fiercely clenched fist. "Cause I can't wait to get
there."
***********************************************
It actually only took twelve minutes.
As the cab pulled up in front of the building, Buffy's hand
was already opening her door. She tossed a twenty
dollar bill into the front seat, and stepped out onto the
sidewalk.
Craning her neck back, she stared up...up...up.
It was a huge stone and steel monolith of a building,
at least fifteen floors. It blended perfectly with the
other buildings lining the street, clearly announcing the
fact that this was a high priced set up.
The black marble facade boasted a tasteful sign in
thick gold script...Wolfram and Hart Ltd...
followed by the street address.
Taking a firm hold on her temper, Buffy shoved open
the glass doors and walked inside.
Ignoring the reception desk, she headed straight for
a bank of elevators. Two security guards followed
behind her, but she was in no mood to deal with any
more questions or demands. She walked onto the
elevator and punched the button for the floor she
wanted, glaring at the approaching men in a way that
meant serious business if they even thought of trying
to stop her.
"Buffy Summers," she announced, as the doors began
to slide smoothly shut. "Feel free to call your boss and
tell him I'm on my way up."
*****************************************
The ride was smooth and silent, with only the
changing floor numbers giving any indication of
movement.
The bell dinged melodically, and the double
doors opened out into a lobby area. Buffy stepped
off the elevator, her shoes sinking into plush beige
carpeting.
On one side of the lobby, there was a reception desk
and standing behind it was....
She blinked hard, tugging off her sunglasses and
pushing them into her bag.
No, her eyes weren't fooling her. Harmony Kendall
was still there, staring back at her with a huge cow-
eyed look that made Buffy want to slap her silly.
Just the sight of the female vamp angered the slayer,
bringing back every transgression the stupid bitch had
ever committed.
A door suddenly opened on the other side of the
desk, giving Buffy a brand new target for her rage.
The minute she saw him, she dropped her bag and
crossed the room towards him at a quick pace.
When he looked up from a stack of papers in his
hand and spotted her, his eyes widened and his lips
silently formed her name.
Disregarding any insipid greeting he was in the
process of giving her, she grabbed hold of his shirt and
shoved him up against the wall, furious all over again
at his deception.
Pinning him to the marble, like a bug on a hat pin,
she glared up into his surprised face, her eyes
flashing and sparking with rage.
Without giving him the chance to speak, she
practically screamed her words at him....
"WHERE IS HE??!!"
Part 3...
Angel stared down at the small blond whirlwind that
had a death grip on the front of his shirt, his mouth
gaping in surprise.
Her fury mounting, Buffy pulled him forward and slammed
him back again, hard enough to make his head crack
against the wall.
"You knew!" she said angrily. "You knew how I felt
about him...and you didn't tell me he was back! I
had to find out from your hired help!"
Security guards were beginning to arrive on the
scene, but Angel raised one hand and held them
off.
Everyone in the office had stopped in the middle
of whatever they were doing to watch the drama
unfold.
The ones with no idea who Buffy was were
obviously wondering how long their boss was
going to tolerate being pushed around by a girl
half his size.
"Buffy," Angel said quietly. "Calm down and listen to
me. I..."
"Why?" she demanded, tightening her fists in his
shirt front. "What can you possibly say that's gonna
put you in a good light? What, are you gonna tell me
it was all for my own good? That you were only
thinking of ME the whole time?"
He stared down into green eyes that were burning with
the heat of her accumulated rage. "I WAS thinking of
you," he insisted. "I..."
"Well, STOP thinking of me!" she yelled. "Damn you,
Angel! When are you gonna stop interfering in my life?
Just who in the HELL do you think you are?"
Angel was beginning to get angry as well. "I think I'm
someone who cares about you," he said through
slightly clenched teeth. "Someone who...who wants
what's best for you."
"Oh, spare me," Buffy said, using the sarcastic tone
she'd learned from another vampire. "You don't know me
anymore...and you have no idea what's best for me. You
don't get to make those judgment calls. I am NOT the
sixteen year old child who fell in love with you once upon
a time."
He looked at her with wounded eyes. "I realize that."
Hardening her heart against his "kicked puppy" ex-
pression, she said, "Then realize this...I don't love you
anymore. Not...not the way I love him."
Unexpected tears welled in her eyes when she
remembered her last moments with her champion.
"He died...thinking that I didn't love him," she choked,
trying to swallow around the knot of pain that had been
firmly lodged in her throat for months. "I never got
a chance to prove it to him, to make him believe."
Somewhere off in the distance beyond her heartache,
she heard the soft 'ding' of the elevator. Although the
sound registered in her brain, her back was turned, and
she didn't see a woman with long brown hair step out
of the car. She took in the scene being played out
between Angel and Buffy, then turned and got back
into the elevator.
"You," Buffy went on, "you had no right to keep him
from me. Not when you knew...."
"You didn't tell me you loved him," Angel replied
defensively. "How could I know..."
This lame excuse brought all of Buffy's anger
screaming back to the surface. "I told you that he
was in my heart...and that was ALL you needed to
know!"
The eyes of their captive audience bounced back
and forth from Buffy to Angel, then back to Buffy,
like spectators at a ping-pong tournament.
Slightly unnerved by their scrutiny, Angel lowered
his voice. "Can we take this into my office?"
Buffy ignored the question, relaxing her hold on
his shirt and taking a step back. "Don't imagine for
a second that I don't know why you didn't tell me
he was back," she said hotly. "You knew...it was
BECAUSE you knew...that you kept it from me."
"What? That's not...no, you're wrong."
"I'm NOT wrong!" she shouted him down. "If you'd
told me that he was back...you knew that I would
come for him. And you didn't want that to happen."
The elevator 'dinged' softly, and the doors swooshed
open.
"You do know," Angel said, "that until a few days ago
he was a ghost? He couldn't even...."
"I...DON'T...CARE!" Her voice rose in volume as
she tightened her hold on his shirt again. "Now, you
tell me...you tell me where he is, or I swear to GOD
I will tear this place down around your ears until
I find him!"
Angel's eyes looked past her to the other side of
the office, but he said nothing.
This only angered her more. "TELL ME!!"
"Buffy....?"
Part 4...
She felt a chill race up and down her spine at the
sound of his voice, and the tears that she had been
holding back since the day she lost him, finally began
to fall...scalding, healing tears.
Catching her breath on a ragged sob, she released
her hold on Angel's shirt and slowly turned around.
"Hello, cutie," he said quietly, then smiled at her. A
smile she'd never hoped to see again, outside of her
dreams.
Everyone in the office held their breath, waiting
to see what would happen next, and the slayer
didn't disappoint them.
Her feet barely touched the floor as she ran across
the room and flung herself into Spike's outstretched
arms so hard that they both nearly ended up toppling
to the ground.
When she felt him gathering her up into a tight em-
brace, she really began to cry. Noisily, harshly, she
sobbed so hard that her entire frame was trembling
from the force of her emotional breakdown.
"Shh," he soothed her. "S'all right, luv...don't cry
anymore. It's all over...I've got you now..."
As he held her and whispered words of comfort and
love, Buffy clung to him, afraid to let go. She'd had
this dream before and it had always ended sadly, with
him fading slowly from her arms, no matter how
desperately she tried to hold on to him.
But not this time. She wasn't going to lose him
again, wasn't about to let anything come between
them, try to separate them.
Spike looked across the top of her head at Angel,
who was standing about ten feet away. Try as he
might, he couldn't work up the smallest amount
of sympathy for the stupid git.
He allowed himself to display a toned down version
of the usual contemptuous smile he reserved for
his grand sire, adding just a touch of the old "to
the victor belongs the spoils" attitude.
"Tried to tell you," he said. "You can't keep her
from me."
Angel glared at him, clearly in pain at the sight
in front of him. "And I told YOU she's not mine to
keep...or..."
"That's right," Spike interjected before Angel could
finish his sentence. "She's mine." He felt Buffy
nodding her head against his shirt front, agreeing
wordlessly to his pronouncement...confirming his
claim.
Wanting to get her away from all the curious stares
and prying eyes, he spotted Harmony still standing
behind her desk. "Give me the card to P-3, Harm."
She looked at Angel, who merely nodded, then
yanked open a drawer and fished around inside
of it, finally locating a rectangle of plastic about
the size and shape of a credit card.
Handing the key card to Spike, she said, "We'll
probably have to get it cleaned and fumigated after
you get through with it."
Buffy finally spoke up. "Harmony," she said, wiping
her eyes on the back of her hand. "you make one
more crack like that...and I'll stake you just for
target practice.
Spike chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Yeah,
there's my little warrior," he murmured, taking in her
scent. "I knew she was in there somewhere."
He turned her around, intending to walk her over to
the elevator, but he had only taken one step when
he realized that the situation called for something much
more dramatic. A statement needed to be made, and
he was just the vampire to make it.
Bending a little, he swept Buffy up in his arms and
carried her to the elevator that Fred was holding
open for them.
Pausing before he entered the lift, he regarded
her with a steady gaze. "S'pose I have you to thank
for this."
She shrugged. "It needed to be done," she said,
then looked at Angel. "For everybody's sake."
Buffy sniffled a little, her arms locked around Spike's
neck. "Are... you Fred?" she asked.
Her glasses sliding down a little on her nose, the
woman wearing a white lab coat nodded. "That
would be me."
"Thank you for calling me," Buffy said softly. "I
owe you."
"Double for me, pet," Spike added, carrying Buffy
into the elevator. Fred released the 'hold' button
as Spike caught sight of Angel, still standing there
staring at them like a big, dumb statue.
** Looks like the best vamp won after all, doesn't
it?**
Unable to resist the temptation, he bent his head
and captured Buffy's lips with his own, framing the
two of them between the elevator's slowly closing
doors, like a curtain coming down after the final
act of a play.
"Eeeww," Harmony whined, making a face. "That's
just gross."
Angel said nothing about it. Turning around
after the elevator doors were fully closed, he
went back into his office and shut the door
with finality.
Fred took a deep breath and followed after him,
but when she tried to turn the doorknob she
discovered that it was locked.
"Oh, well, that's VERY mature, Angel," she
said beneath her breath.
************************************************
The elevator went straight to the top floor of
Wolfram and Hart, and it's passengers were
still kissing when the doors parted.
It opened into a short corridor. There were two
doors to the left, and one on the right; doors
labeled 'P-1, P-2, and P-3'.
Spike set Buffy on her feet in front of door
number 3. Inserting the key card, he unlocked
the door and ushered her inside.
After re-locking the door behind them, he
took her into the sitting room of a very
elaborate and expensively decorated suite.
Holding on to her hand, he tugged her across
the room to a sofa in front of a large picture
window.
"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, dragging
her heels. "Get away from the window."
Spike grinned and released her hand, stepping
directly in front of the glass. "Not a problem,"
he assured her. "Special glass. Totally sun
proof."
Buffy smiled back at him, and he immediately
reclaimed her hand and pulled her down on the
sofa next to him.
For a few moments, all they could find it in them
to do was stare at each other, each of them drinking
in the sight of someone they'd thought was gone
forever.
Buffy was the first to break the silence.
"I missed you," she said softly. "So much. I kept
thinking about you, thinking I would see you
again. Sometimes...I would forget, or just push
it to the back of my mind...that you were gone.
And...and I would see something and I'd think,
'Oh, I'll have to tell him about that when I see
him'...and then I'd remember that...that I wasn't
going to see you...ever again."
She was purposely not giving him a chance to
say anything at this point, wanting to be the one
to start them on the road back to where they both
needed to be. He had done his part when it came to
the declaration of his feelings, and now it was her
turn.
She had left it too late before, and had paid a
brutal price for it. There was no way she was going
to make the same mistake again.
"Look at me," she demanded, holding his face in
her hands. Gazing into his eyes, she held nothing
back. "I love you," she said deliberately, then said
it again for good measure. "I...love...you! And I'm
going to spend all the time I have left in this world
convincing you of it. I will MAKE you believe me."
He smiled at her, and turned his head to kiss the
soft palm of her right hand. "I do believe you," he
said, his eyes moving over her body. "But don't let
that stop you from trying to convince me, luv."
Buffy hid her laughter, loving the fact that no matter
what had happened, Spike was still....Spike.
Apparently, he was feeling playful, which was just
fine with her. Things had been far too serious, for
far too long...and she was tired of it. They could
discuss what was going to come next later, but
for right now....
Moving closer to him, she leaned forward and began
to leave soft, tender kisses on his cheeks, his jaw,
his lips.
"You're my champion, Spike," she whispered. "You
saved the world....again...and I think it's time I
thanked you for it."
Part 5...
"Do you know one of the things...that I regret the
most?" Buffy asked, pulling away for air.
Spike continued nuzzling and kissing the side of her
cheek, whispering soft words of love in her ear. "What's
that, love?"
She nudged him away a little, wanting to look into his
eyes when she told him. "That last night we had to-
gether...we should have made love."
He looked at her, surprised by her choice of words. Buffy
had never once referred to their sexual liaisons as
"making love". Privately, to himself, he'd never thought of
it as anything else. Sure, he put on the "Hey, we're just
shagging for the fun of it" facade around her. A man had to
preserve his pride...and his feelings. But deep inside of him,
in a place he never showed anyone else, he always thought
of their encounters as lovemaking...even the ones that
bordered on violence.
Cupping her cheek in his hand, he leaned closer and
said, "Let's make love now."
The words made Buffy's entire body sit up and take
notice. Anticipating sex, fantastic sex, it did all the right
things to prepare for it.
Her breathing deepened, and her skin tingled. There was
a loose, moist feeling between her thighs. Her breasts felt
heavier, more sensitive against the scratchy lace of her
bra.
All in all, she felt highly overheated and wanted to get
rid of her clothing as fast as she possibly could.
Glancing over at the door, she frowned slightly. "No
one else has one of those keys, do they?"
Spike stood up and shrugged off his coat impatiently.
"I'll kill anyone who walks through that door," he
promised her, pulling her to her feet.
Without hesitating, she reached for the buttons of his
shirt and began undoing them rapidly.
Amazed at her forwardness, Spike watched, a tiny
smile playing on his lips. This was going to be damn
good.
Buffy pushed his unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders
and down his arms, dropping it heedlessly to the
floor. She reached for the hem of his t-shirt, making
quick work of it's removal as well.
Before she continued, she snagged one finger in
his belt and yanked him closer. Using her
free hand, she reached down and fondled the huge
bulge in the front of his jeans.
Gasping for air he had no use for, Spike placed
one hand over hers and pressed down more firmly.
"Harder," he begged. "Please."
She gave him what he wanted. Curving her
fingers around him, she rubbed and squeezed.
just enough to please him without causing pain.
When he took his hand away, she began to
undo his belt. The buckle gave her a little trouble
at first, but she was diligent and was soon yanking
the leather strap out of the belt loops of his jeans.
Spike decided that it was time he began to con-
tribute to the moment. It had been so damn long
since he'd touched her this way, so long that his
hands were almost shaking with eagerness.
Buffy could relate.
Her own fingers became clumsy when he began
to tug her blouse from the waistband of her slacks.
The fabric was silky and sheer, and he enjoyed
running his hands over it, but was eager to move on
to even softer territory.
She lifted her arms and allowed him to pull her
shirt off and over her head, mussing her hair in a
way he loved to see it. The ecru colored demi-bra
she was wearing revealed far more than it concealed,
and he had to stop and admire the sight of her nicely
rounded breasts being lifted and cradled by the lace
of her undergarment.
"Beautiful," he muttered, reaching behind her to
unfasten the bra.
The act made Buffy smile at the memory of him
doing just this so many times before. Spike had always
preferred her back fastening bras; he enjoyed the
little ceremony of sliding his hands behind her and
opening it by touch alone while he pulled her closer
to him.
The hooks were released and the garment fell away.
Buffy felt her breasts settle into his wonderfully tender
grasp.
Feeling his hands on her body again was making her
light headed. As always, he knew just what touches
drove her crazy and he didn't stint on giving them to
her.
Her eyes widened as they stared into his, and her lips
parted as she tried to speak.
"Tell me," he urged, squeezing gently.
"It's just...I missed this so much. The way you touch
me. The things you do. I was...I was afraid I'd have
to live the rest of my life and never...never feel this
way again."
Spike grinned, a little arrogantly. "Well, you can
put THAT fear right out of your mind. I'm back
now, baby...and I'm planning to make up for all that
lost time."
His tone amused her. This was one of the things
she loved about him, his "I'm the only man for you,
Slayer, and you never had it as good as me" attitude.
Once upon a time, it had pissed her off mightily...es-
pecially when she'd begun to realize that it was
true.
"Promises, promises," she said, licking her lips.
Eyebrows arched, he responded by pushing her
breasts together and lifting them. Then, without
breaking eye contact, he lowered his head and ran
his tongue wetly over the hardened tips. Lightly,
teasingly, he tortured her.
Buffy's skin felt flushed and sensitive. Her breath
hitched in her chest when he pinched her nipples
between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently.
Having her breasts fondled and kissed was one of
Buffy's favorite parts of foreplay. Spike knew this,
and always acted accordingly. She could remember
times when he had spent a good hour doing nothing
more than play with her breasts in various ways.
Slipping one hand behind his neck, she whispered
one word; "More."
"Anything for you, baby," he said, knowing what
she was asking for. Opening his mouth, he took
her right breast in and began to suck at it, softly
at first, then voraciously.
Buffy squirmed and whimpered under this assault,
spurring him on to greater efforts. He moved back
and forth, from one side to the other, showing no
favoritism. He alternated from kissing to licking and
then sucking, as though unable to decide what he
enjoyed most.
She enjoyed it all. It didn't take long until she was
a mindless, writhing bundle of pure sexual pleasure.
When he finally pulled back, her chest was damp
and shiny, her nipples hard as pebbles.
Buffy immediately moved forward and performed
the same service for him. Her tongue darted out and
drew wet circles around the tight coppery discs on his
chest.
After a few seconds, Spike buried his fingers in her
hair and made her look at him. When their eyes met,
they reached simultaneously for the fastenings of each
other's pants.
Top snaps popped open. Zippers were tugged down.
Shoes and socks were toed off, and two pairs of
jeans hit the floor...one black, the other blue.
Buffy stood clad in a pair of lace panties, Spike in
nothing at all.
She was incredibly wet. He was beautifully hard.
Made for each other....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taking Buffy's right hand, Spike brought it up to
her face. "Lick it," he ordered her.
She looked at him for a moment, then extended
her little pink tongue and delicately licked her
palm.
"No," he said, his eyes hot with lust. "Really lick
it. Make it wet."
Willingly, she followed instructions, then sucked
in a harsh breath when he placed her hand on the
rigid length of his shaft and began sliding her wet
fingers up and down.
"Ohhh...fuck," he groaned softly, closing his eyes
for a moment. "That's it...harder..."
Buffy moved a little closer. Pressing her cheek
against his chest, she looked down to watch her
hand as it pumped his erection. When a pearly
drop of semen formed at the tip, she smeared it
around the head, making it slick.
Spike's hand glided down her back, caressing
her heated skin as she played with him. When
he reached her bottom, he took a handful of it and
squeezed. "You still have the prettiest ass I've
ever seen, Slayer."
She accepted the compliment, rewarding him by
sliding her hand further between his legs and
cupping his sensitive balls.
He hissed in air through clenched teeth, but when
her hand grew bolder in it's caress, he was forced
to push it away before he embarrassed himself
by doing something he hadn't done since he'd been
an adolescent.
Pushing her down on the couch, he dropped to his
knees before her and spread her legs wide apart.
He lowered his head between her splayed thighs
and began tonguing her roughly.
Buffy's nails dug into the sofa cushion. Her head
dropped back and she started to pant, making soft
little kitten sounds in her throat.
Spike went at her with hard laps of his tongue, a
starving man at a banquet. He located the hot
button with unerring accuracy, an act he had
perfected during long, lazy hours of practice, and
sucked it greedily.
Her hips shot up as her hands groped blindly for
him, caressing his hair.
When he felt the gentle touch, he shoved his tongue
up into her, forcing it as deeply as it would go, then
moving it around.
"Do you like that?" he asked, pulling away for a
moment. "Want my tongue? Want me to fuck you
with it?"
Buffy could only nod.
"Or," he went on, "would you rather have my cock?"
She was in no state of mind to make difficult
decisions. "You choose."
Spike chuckled, deciding for her. "Come on down
here and let's roll around on the floor a little."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He went down on her again, making sure she was
as wet as she could ever hope to be.
When he sensed her imminent orgasm, he
lifted his head and moved up her body, wedging
his hips in the V of her legs.
Rubbing himself against her, he instructed her
to open her eyes and look at him.
"Did you like touching my cock?" he asked.
Buffy nodded. "Uh-huh."
"Want it inside you?"
"Yeah-huh."
He knew she did. He could feel it, and smell it. Her
scent was making him salivate. Positioning the
head of his cock, he started to push it in.
Her hips jerked and lifted, wanting more.
She was ready, so he strengthened his thrust,
gliding all the way in.
So tight. She was always so damn tight...fucking
ALWAYS. Almost like a virgin.
The clinging caress of her sex was threatening
his control. This wasn't going to last long for
either of them, this new "first time" that they
were experiencing. It had been too long, and
he loved her too much.
He heard her soft cries as he began thrusting
in and sliding back out.
He felt her legs twining around his waist.
He tasted salt and sweat, the flavor that was
uniquely her's.
He saw her face slacken, and her eyes become
unfocused.
He smelled the heady musk of her desire.
The last vestige of his self control abandoned
him. With a harsh grunt, he pumped in and
out of her, burying his face against her soft
throat.
Buffy cried out, bucking her hips.
Lost in the moment, with no hope of slowing
down, he began thrusting faster and harder.
"Buffy," he choked. "Oh, Buffy...I love you...God,
so much..."
"Spike....yes...I...I love...you...always..."
The words completely undid him. Clutching her
tighter, he delivered his final thrusts.
"Coming...Buffy...do it...yeah...oh, yeah...come
on...do it for me...now, baby...now...ah, fuck..!"
"...Spike.."
"Yeah...that's my girl...you're coming so good. That's
it...such a...such a good girl...ahhh...squeeze me
tight...yeah...just like that....again..."
The pursuit of pleasure ended spectacularly, enhanced
by the knowledge that it was only just beginning.
Part 6...
"You all right, love?"
"I don't remember the last time I was this all right."
Pushing up with his hands, he tried to remove his weight
from her, but she wouldn't allow it.
"Stay," she urged. "I don't want you too far away from
me."
Spike smiled and gave her what she wanted. Moving
slightly to one side, he slipped one arm behind her
and kept her close, then snuggled his face against
her neck.
"Watch it, vampire," she teased, feeling him kiss
the beat of her pulse. "This isn't a snack bar."
He chuckled. "Sure, it is. I just snacked on you,
didn't I?"
"You did," she agreed. Tilting his face up, she
nipped at his chin. "So...when do I get to snack on
you?"
The question alone made him instantly hard. If he'd
allowed his mind to formulate the image it invoked,
he wouldn't be coherent enough to reply.
So, he rolled off her and scooped her up from the
carpet. Carrying her across the room, he kicked open
a door that led into a spacious bedroom, with a bed
so big it looked like two king sized mattresses pushed
together.
Buffy was about to comment on the size of the play-
ground he was taking her to, when she found herself
being tossed into the middle of it. "Hey" she squealed,
collapsing with laughter when he jumped on the bed
and stood over her like a conquering warrior about to
plant a flag.
She had forgotten how much fun Spike could be when
he was in the mood for it. No one had ever made her
laugh the way he did, not Riley and certainly not Angel.
But Spike was so full of the enjoyment of living, so to
speak, that he frequently dropped his evil vamp per-
sona with her and turned into a charmingly mischievous boy
who delighted in driving her crazy.
Even sex could be wonderfully amusing sometimes, when
he was feeling particularly playful. She remembered times
when they would be in the middle of a deeply passionate
encounter, only to have him start reciting dirty jokes and
the filthiest limericks she'd ever heard. He'd defended this
behavior by telling her that he liked the way it felt being
inside of her when she laughed.
The first time he'd done it, she had scolded him for it,
telling him that sex wasn't supposed to be funny. He had
looked her right in the eye and asked, "Says who?" in a
challenging tone of voice, then gone on to commiserate
with her over the obvious lack of imagination her previous
lovers had displayed. Had it always been "the same old
thing time after time?" he'd asked her.
Well....yes. Actually, it had been.
With Angel, she'd only had one night, and having been
a virgin, she'd had nothing to compare him to. The
experience had been painful and pleasurable both, but
he'd been afraid of hurting her, so he'd stuck to the basics
and never really released his own full passion.
Her mistake with Parker had been so humiliating that
she hated to reflect on it in any way, and had largely
forgotten his well used bag of tricks.
Riley...well, Riley had been...dependable. Kind of like
riding a bicycle...you had to do a little work, but even-
tually it got you where you wanted to go. Problem was,
the longer their relationship had gone on, the more
dependable...and predictable...he had become. By the
time they were on the downhill slide, she'd begun to
think he was operating with a mental checklist; doing
everything in order, and allowing so much time for this
and so much for that.
When she'd looked back on things later, she'd been
slightly appalled when she'd come to the realization
that Riley had been sort of...dumb...when it came to
the subject of their sex life. There'd been nights when
he'd reached orgasm way before she was even in the
vicinity, and he'd never seemed to notice that he
wasn't satisfying her. How many times had she gotten
up to go in the bathroom, needing to bring herself some
kind of release, then come back to bed to find him
snoring like a grizzly bear in the middle of a winter
hibernation?
Spike had coaxed this information out of her one night
when her defenses were down, laughing like a hyena
when she'd mentioned her "that was relaxing" comment
to Riley after she'd actually managed to reach climax.
He'd then gone on to give her the most "un" relaxing
climax she'd ever experienced. She'd nearly had to be
scraped off the ceiling afterwards, and her toes hadn't
uncurled for an hour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grinning like a fiend, he bounced on the bed a couple
of times, which made certain parts of him bounce as
well.
Although she tried to hold it in, she couldn't, and
laughter exploded out of her.
Spike, having the confidence in himself not to be
offended, laughed with her, then dropped to his knees
and pounced.
Landing pretty much on top of her, he kissed her
long and hard.
Lying beneath him, she chalked up yet another
comparison where Riley had been found want-
ing; he'd been too damn big. Well over six feet,
his body had been uncomfortably heavy. Worse
still, when they had made love he had been so
far above her head that she'd usually have her
face in the middle of his chest.
Spike was the prefect size for her. Average
height, with a slimmer build than both Riley and
Angel, he never made her feel like she was
trapped under a fallen redwood.
"Did you really miss me?" he asked. His tone
was deceptively light, but she understood without
being told what he needed to hear.
"I missed you like crazy," she assured him,
looking purposefully into his eyes. "Would I have
come looking for you if I hadn't?"
He tilted his head, a gesture that never failed
to make her smile.
"Hey...why didn't YOU come looking for ME?"
she asked, suddenly quite serious. "Was it...was
it because you thought I didn't love you?"
"Noooo," he drawled. "Because your thick
headed ex told me you were somewhere in
Europe."
"Europe?" she echoed. "Oh, this time I really
AM going to kill him."
"And I'll hold him for you while you do."
"He knew exactly where I was." Anger was be-
ginning to simmer inside of her, making her
irritated all over again with Angel's high handed
behavior in keeping things from her.
"It doesn't matter now," Spike said, smoothing
her hair back. "Sooner or later I'd have found my
way home."
Home! He'd said it. She was home to him. And
speaking of home....
"Come back with me?" she blurted out. "You
don't have to stay here anymore. Not if you don't
want to."
She was preparing her persuasion speech when
he took all the wind out of her sails.
"Where are we going?"
Buffy smiled. That had certainly been easy. "Up
the coast. Monterey."
"Not much sun up there," he mused.
"Hardly any at all."
"You might have noticed I DON'T need to be
talked into this."
Spotting a phone on the night stand, she tried
to pick it up.
"Who are you calling?"
"Airport. We can hop a night flight out of there
and be home in an hour."
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"I've got a better idea."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Are you sure about this?"
"Positively sure. Now, hop in."
Buffy climbed into the passengers seat, watching
as Spike yanked a handful of wires loose from under
the dashboard of a shiny black Mustang fastback,
circa 1968.
"Where'd you learn how to do this?"
"Years of practice," he replied, twisting two of
the wires together. The engine caught with a
roar of power, at the same moment that Buffy pulled
down the visor and caught a set of keys in one
hand.
Spike looked at her in surprise. "How did you..."
"Angel always kept his keys there," she shrugged.
"Well, if you knew that then why didn't you speak
up?"
"And spoil your fun? Why, I wouldn't dream of it."
Spike shook his head and threw the car into drive.
Five minutes later, they were on Highway 101...head-
ing north.