Dangerous


Written by: Ariane
 Author's Website





Summary: She needs him to be dangerous. S7 'Get It Done'
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
Feedback: ariane_five@yahoo.com





Spike and Buffy sat on the back porch after a long night of patrolling. Six vampires, four demons, and a suspicious looking rat would never bother Sunnydale again.

“Color me surprised.” He shook his head. “So after your big speech to me ‘bout wanting the dangerous, demon Spike back to get the job done, you get offered the original bad stuff, and you say no?"

She nodded, averting her eyes from his puzzled look.

“Well, I didn’t exactly say no. I kinda ripped off their chains and broke the short one’s staff. Then two of ‘em went poof, and the other one, the other shaman…”

She hadn’t told him yet about the terrifying vision the remaining shaman had shown her.

“Why’d you do that, Buffy? Thought you needed everyone to get serious. Can’t say that it wasn’t a damn fine time crushing that demon, but still…” He hesitated at the worried look on her face.

“They used her. And me. Just using us. All these poor girls. Fighting the battle they should’ve fought themselves. So what does that make me, Spike?”

She looked up at him, her eyes full of despair.

“That makes you Buffy, s’all.”

“Right. Buffy the clueless. They showed me what was coming. It’s gonna be bad. I think I made a mistake.”

“Look, just stop. What is, is. Nothing you can do about it now. Gotta live with your choices.”

“Easy for you to say.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not your responsibility to save…” She waved her arm toward the house. “To save…them and the rest of the world.”

He gave her a long, searching look. “That’s where you’re wrong, pet. It’s you and it’s me. You’re not alone, understand? You’re not alone.”

He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Though it was dark out, he felt her tensing up and sensed the heat rising to her face at his touch. He pulled his hand away and slid it into the pocket of his duster. Fumbling around inside the pocket, he withdrew a pack of cigarettes and his silver lighter and lit up.

“I said I wanted the fighting Spike back, not the smoking Spike.”

She coughed, waving her hand at the cloud of smoke which drifted toward her.

“Part of the package, love. Killing, smoking, screw…” He gave her a sideways glance. “Uh…mean screwing those bad demons, not…”

“I know what you meant.” She gave a soft laugh.

“Nice to hear you laugh, pet. Been a long time.”

He sighed, dropped his cigarette on the step and crushed it with the heel of his boot.

She continued in a low voice. “I’m just a stupid girl whose life got stolen by a bunch of cowards. It’s not fair.”

“Can you tell me when this little pity party’s gonna end? ‘Cause it’s a bit wearing on my nerves.  Get a spine, Slayer. You are what you are. Too late to go back and change things.”

“But I thought I was something special. Chosen. It’s what made it worth all the pain. And the losing of things. Like my life.”

He rose from the porch and stood before her. Bending over, until his face was just a few inches from hers, he stared intently into her eyes.

“I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks or says about you, Buffy. Including yourself. You are special. Special to me. I love you. Got that? The others…all those men, those shamans, watchers, boyfriends, fathers, every man who couldn’t see how bloody special you are and left you alone to struggle under an impossible and doomed task – they’re a bunch of bleeding idiots.  And I’d like to kill the lot of them for you. And, hey! Guess who’s got their Big Bad back? So, may I, Buffy? Please?”

She giggled. He looked so serious standing there, all soulfully sweet and attempting to be sincerely evil in his duster and bright orange, flowered shirt.

“Who are you, Spike?” she laughed.

“Hell if I know, love. Hell if I know. Care to go for another round before it gets light?”

“Another round?” she gulped.

“Patrolling, Buffy. Patrolling. Where’s your mind, Slayer?”


* * * * *


They sat together on an overturned dumpster having just completed a quick and furious fight with three vampires. They’d run into them in a back alley behind a row of abandoned houses.

“So how come you didn’t ask your friend Wood to come along with us tonight?” Spike asked.

“I don’t know…I get this feeling he doesn’t like you.”

“Feeling’s mutual. Guy’s a real poof.”

“He’s not! You should’ve seen him fight the other night. He was good.”

“Yeah, bet that’s not all he’s good at.”

“You’re jealous!”

“Not me. I know where I stand with you, Buffy. You’ve kinda made that obvious. Got no false hopes. Just along for the ride. Besides, he’s the one that got in my face. Him in his fancy suit.”

“Says the vampire in the very blinding Hawaiian shirt.” She laughed and poked him in the stomach.

He playfully swatted her hand away. “Was the only clean thing in the house. Nicked it from Xander. Now there’s a man with taste.” He glanced toward the sky. “Oh, no!”

“Oh, no?”

“The sun’s about to rise. I don’t think we can get back to your house in time.”

He looked around nervously for shelter.

“Not sure where the sewers are ‘round here. I think…”

He slipped off the dumpster and walked over to the door of one of the abandoned houses. The door, splintered in half, hung off a single rusted hinge.

“This looks kinda familiar,” he mused.

“It’s the place,” she said softly, jumping off the dumpster. She approached him slowly, her eyes apprehensive. “I thought it was on the other side of town.”

“The place? Come again, love?”

“You know. The place,” she stammered, standing next to him.

“I can see that it’s a ‘place’. Don’t follow you.” He stepped into the doorway of the abandoned house and peered inside.  He glanced back at her. “Oh. The place.”

It was the house, the very place where they first began their tumultuous affair.


* * * * *


Moving in slow motion, he ran his hands along the walls of the living room, carefully avoiding the center of the room where the floor had given way so long ago. Fallen into the basement. Everything fallen down. Floor, ceiling, chandelier. Everything fallen, including them. Someone had made a feeble attempt to clear away the debris, but he guessed they’d given up.  Too far gone. Wrecked.

You’re not a man. You’re a thing.

He traced his fingers along the edges of a jagged hole in the wall. Just the size of her fist. This is where she’d smashed me up against the wall. God, he’d almost wanted to kill her that night, or let her dust him. End his long sexual torment. But she’d kissed him instead. Who’d of thought she’d do that? He relived that shocking moment of anger, despair, and unbearable joy, all tangled up into a five second kiss. That’s when he knew, really knew, he’d never be free of her.

A man can change.

Mesmerized by his curious dance along the walls, she stood hesitantly in the doorway. In the early light of dawn, the melancholy house was the very epitome of abandonment. Like him. Unclaimed. Unwanted. Abandoned. His slow movements conveyed his thoughts as clearly as if he were speaking them out loud. He’s so beautiful, she thought.

Poor Spikey. Can't be a human, can't be a vampire. Where the hell do you fit in?

He stopped short when his fingers encountered a deep vertical crack in the wall. This is where she mounted me. Slipped her small hand down between us and set me free. He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her silken, hot flesh plunging down his cock. He felt himself stiffen and unconsciously, he rubbed his hand across the front of his jeans. Would he ever be inside her again? He groaned to himself, and turned toward the door where she stood, silhouetted in the light.

Poor little lost girl.

The floor before her was still scattered with shards of glass from the chandelier. A glittering trail of diamonds for her to follow toward him. She’s lost, he thinks. Unchained now, by her decision to refuse the power offered to her.

She doesn’t fit in anywhere.

She stretched out her hand to him. A simple gesture. Heartbreaking.

Got no one to love.

“Com’ere,” he murmured, his voice low and trembling.

She stepped into the room, edging along the walls, approaching him with a sad hunger. When she reached his side, he took her hand, threading his fingers between hers. He could hear her heart beating and her shallow, quick breaths.

“It’s dangerous,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Dangerous.” From beneath the dark lashes of his half-closed eyes, he glanced down at her. “Like me now.”

She nodded silently, gripping down fiercely on his hand. He gasped as she swung him around to face her and then shoved him back against the sagging wall. And then she just stood there, suddenly lost.

So it fell to him to take the first kiss. To slip his tongue between her softly parted lips. To taste her. Fall into her eager, searching hands. To pull her against him, wrap her up in his arms, and melt into her yielding body. Because, underneath it all, he was still bad. Still wanted to fuck the girl. Bite her. Eat her up. Make her come, screaming his name. Swim in her. Drown in her. 

Because he was still dangerous, bleeding soul and all.

He released her lips to let her catch her breath. Her eyes were dark. He slid his hand down the smooth skin of her stomach and plunged his fingers inside her. So wet and slick. On fire for him. Oh, he would give her the spark to ignite a thousand worlds. 

She fumbled blindly with his zipper and released him. His cock nestled into her waiting hand, and she groaned, “Spike…please.”

She climbed up his body and mounted him, sliding down his cock with exquisite slowness. Taking all his hard flesh so deep inside her. His power. His beautiful, dark, hard power thrusting inside her.

No holding back, her mind raced. Strip off the clothes that separated flesh that needed flesh. Thrust, penetrate, make me scream. Give me what I need. Stretch me, pierce me. Fuck me. Unfold me with your desire.

Give me the power of your unquenchable love.

“What you wanted, right?” he panted, as they surged together at the peak of soul-splitting orgasm.


* * * * *


Later, she held him tenderly in her arms, soothing him to sleep. Assuring him softly that, this time, she wouldn’t abandon him.

Her dangerous, precious love.

Her power.
 


THE END


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