Buffy spun and back-kicked the vampire she was fighting in the old, abandoned warehouse in Sunnydale's business district. He flew back several feet, giving her time to launch a counter-attack on the second vampire, who came at her with a pick-axe in his hands. She grabbed the axe-handle on his downswing, using it to spin him around and into his pal.

She risked a glance at her co-fighters and was glad to see them holding their own. Willow and Giles were teamed together, as were Xander and Anya. Spike, as usual, was fighting on his own. The vampires were a small clan that had kidnapped a group of schoolchildren when their bus had swerved off of the road during a bad storm earlier that afternoon. The kids were huddled together in the far corner of the warehouse, crying and afraid to run.

The hard wind rattled the windows that were still in their frames, whistling loudly through the ones that were broken. The bright flash of lightning was immediately followed with the loud boom of thunder, indicating that the storm was right on top of them. Torrents of rain hit the roof of the warehouse, the metallic echo of the unending pounding grating on Buffy's nerves.

She launched herself back at her two attackers, punching and blocking and kicking. She yanked the pick-axe out of vampire number two's hands and used the wooden handle to stake him. As he disintegrated into dust, she turned and chucked the axe end over end towards a third vampire who was sneaking up on Spike, stake in her hand. Buffy knew Spike hadn't know she'd been there.

As the first vampire grabbed her around the neck, she stomped on his foot and latched onto his arm. Over her shoulder he went, landing on his back on the ground. She dropped down beside him, a stake in her hand. She plunged it into his heart without a second thought.

She raised her head at the same time a tremendous crack rang throughout the warehouse. Her eyes went from assessing who to help to the ceiling. In a split second she realized she didn't have enough time to move.

Suddenly, she was sliding across the hard floor on her back as the sounds of the roof collapsing penetrated her ears. She had dropped the stake in her hand at the same time she was tackled by Spike, and now she was covered by him, his leather duster pulled up over his head, his body arched up over hers. She caught a brief glimpse of his tensed up features, then the world caved in on top of them.

*****

"Spike?" Buffy breathed his name, his weight heavy upon her, her face near the side of his neck. It was pitch black, but she didn't know if that was because of his duster or because they were buried. She forced her panic away and called the vampire's name again. "Spike?"

"Yeah?"

Spike's voice was strained and very soft near her ear. The relief that he answered her was palpable, but she was still afraid. "Are you okay?"

"Depends," he answered. "If you call being alive okay, yes. If you're referring to what feels like a thousand tons of cement and steel on my back, then no."

"We're buried then?"

"Mm-hmm." His reply was more of a groan of pain than an actual answer. "Cor, remind me not to do this again."

"Why did you anyway?" Buffy asked. "Not that I'm not thankful. I'm alive, you're alive...metaphorically speaking."

"Always wanted to shag you, pet," he said, humor in his voice under the pain. "I figured this was a good way to get you on your back."

"So you're planning to wiggle between my thighs here and have sex with me?"

He chuckled. "If I could move, yes."

She was quiet for a moment. "Well, we got nothing better to do till we're rescued. Go ahead. Wiggle away."

Spike moaned, this time the sound was filled with lust. "I'd love to, Slayer. Trouble is, something sharp has pinned my leg to the ground. Also, I can't feel my willy right at this moment, so it would kind of ruin the fun."

"Oh god, how hurt are you?" Buffy asked with worry.

"Enough that I'm going to have to be carted out of here in a bloody wagon," Spike replied. "For some reason, I'm always gettin' 'urt because of you."

"Um, sorry?"

"'S-okay, luv," he mumbled. His body shifted slightly above her and he growled in pain. "It's worth it to be pressed up against you like this."

"Was that sarcasm I heard?" Buffy said.

"Yep," Spike replied, popping his 'P.'

They were both silent for a few minutes, of which time Buffy grew more panicky. "Um, Spike? Will I run out of air?"

"No," he said. "I can smell fresh air coming in from somewhere. You'll be fine until the others dig us out."

"Oh god, the others," Buffy breathed. "Do you think-"

"You know, the first place I wanted to shag you was in the cemetery," Spike interrupted. "It was right after we fought that Turnak demon. You were panting like a bitch in heat and there was a rip in your blouse, and with each breath you took, I'd see the barest hint of your nipple. Turned me on."

"'Panting like a bitch in heat?'" Buffy said, allowing him to distract her from thoughts of her friends. "You sure know how to speak romance to a girl."

"How about this?" Spike said. "I have this fantasy where you're riding me, your skin flushed and glowing with perspiration. Your eyes are closed and you're making soft gasps through your ripe, thoroughly-kissed-by-yours-truly lips. Your hair is down, tousled by my fingers having run through it a hundred times.

"I reach up and caress your small, perfect breasts as you rise up and down. Your heat burns my cock, your muscles squeezing me when I pinch your rosy nipples. You make this breathy little moan which makes me want to flip you over and drive myself wildly into you."

"But you don't," Buffy commented in a lust-filled voice.

"But I don't," Spike echoed, his voice husky from both arousal and pain. "Instead I tease you more, tugging your nipples and caressing your breasts. Then I slide my hands down to your hips and settle one on the curve of your side. The other I use to find your clit and rub it in a small circle with my thumb.

"Your body tightness around my cock as you get closer to climaxing. You make a soft keening sound, riding me faster, hitting me harder with each down thrust. And then you come with a scream of my name, and I see the exquisite ecstacy on your face as you orgasm."

"Oh," Buffy breathed, picturing his words in perfect detail. "Wow."

"When you start to come down, I reverse our positions and slowly thrust in and out of you. Your eyes are beautiful as you watch me love you. Then you tighten around me again, and white-heat runs up my cock. I don't stop myself from calling out your name as I come, and I shoot my load deep inside you."

Spike took a short breath and Buffy heard a high-pitched sound when he did so, indicating he was hurt even worse than he let on. "And afterwards, I hold you and you show your trust in me by falling asleep in my arms," he said in an extremely strained voice.

"Shh, Spike," Buffy said. "You can finish later, after they get us out, okay?"

He took another wheeze-like breath and Buffy winced. "Okay," he replied. "Don't know how much," wheeze, "longer I can stay," wheeze, "conscious anyway."

Then he was silent and unmoving, and Buffy thought he did slip into unconsciousness, until he whispered with a small exhale of air, "Love you."

And she knew without a doubt that he did.

*****

Buffy pried open her eyes shortly after she registered the steady beeping coming from somewhere to her left. She saw that she was in a hospital room, rather than in pitch blackness.

"Hey, you're awake," Willow's soft voice came from her right. Buffy turned her head and saw her friend seated beside the bed, book in her lap. "'Bout time, sleepyhead."

"Will," Buffy croaked, her throat parched. Willow picked up a cup off a table beside the hospital bed and fed her an ice cube. The blond smiled thankfully.

"Let me go tell everyone you're up," Willow said. "I'll be right back."

"Wait," Buffy called hoarsely as Willow stood and headed for the door. "Is everyone okay?"

"The roof only collapsed on you and Spike," Willow replied. "The rest of us only got a few bumps and scratches."

"Is he...is Spike okay, too?" Buffy asked.

A smile flashed on Willow's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "He's still among the not breathing," she replied.

Buffy relaxed here tense shoulders in relief. "Good."

The Slayer was discharged from the hospital later that night, well-rested, fed and re-hydrated. She found out that she and Spike had been buried in the rubble for four days because of he storm, and had been unconscious by alive when they were rescued. They wanted to take her home, but Buffy insisted that they take her to see Spike. The amused smiles they all shared made her wonder, but no one would explain.

When she saw Spike, she knew why.

"I hate you, Slayer," Spike said when she burst out laughing upon seeing him. He was lying on his bed, head propped on a pillow, his entire body to the neck wrapped in white bandages. His arms were pinned straight to his sides, his left fingers poking through the bandages resting on top of a television remote. "You and your rotten chums. I hate every bloody one of you."

"You look like a mummy," Buffy giggled.

"They did it while I was out and they won't take it off, and I can't move to do it myself!" Spike complained. "And I've got a soddin itch that's driving me batty!"

Buffy walked to the side of the bed, still giggling, took the remote and turned off the television. She sat down beside the tightly-wrapped vampire and asked with a coy look, "Want me to scratch that itch for you?"

"If you can find me underneath all these bleedin' bandages," Spike replied with a scowl. "Have I mentioned that I hate you yet?"

Buffy leaned forward and caught his mouth up in a kiss. "You did," she said when she broke away. She met his surprised blue eyes squarely. "But you're lying."

"Just you wait, Slayer," Spike said. "When I can feel my parts again, you're going to get yours."

"I'm counting on it," Buffy said. She gave him another brief peck on the lips. "Now, you have a story to finish. You left off with my falling asleep in your arms..."


The End