Summary: Future fic. Vengeance, memory and the course of true love.
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.
A/N: Here is a new story, NC-17 eventually. I've been struggling with
it for a while now but I've decided to take a leap of faith and start posting.
:) This story includes slight alterations to the ending of BtVS. AtS S5 occurred
without Spike. The first few chapters of this story contain intentionally mixed
up chronology. It is meant to reflect the character's perspectives. I hope you
stay with it. This story mentions character deaths that occur outside of the
main plot line. Feedback: alp@magma.ca
18.
As he did every morning, Rupert Giles arrived at the Magic Box early
with a copy of the L.A. and London Times tucked under his arm. He
sauntered toward his office ready to start the day off right with a
steaming cup of Chi tea and some meditative reading. As he set the
papers down he noticed Buffy's jacket slung on the back of a chair,
exactly where she'd left it the previous evening. His lips pursed in
thought for a moment and then action took over as Giles strode to the
room at the back of the premises.
He flung open the door and looked upon the debauched scene before him.
Clothes and bed linens were strewn everywhere. In a central tableau,
entwined, writhing flesh met his stunned gaze. Pale and tanned
intermingling shapes filled his field of vision: a foot, a thigh, the
curve of-- Darkened blotches crowded his eyes, blotting out the specter
of spirited coitus before him. The unregulated sound effects were
equally traumatizing.
"Gah! Oh, good lord!" Giles jumped at the sight.
"GI--LES?!" Buffy jerked hard in response, prompting a volatile groan
from her partner. She flopped down against Spike's chest, grabbed a
blanket and flung it over their sweat slicked bodies. Instinct took over
as Spike bared his teeth and released a warning growl. It was a
territorial response to the sudden presence of another male. Not another
step closer.
The worst possible scenario sprang to Giles' mind: Spike had turned
Buffy. Her love had led her straight into his fiendish trap. Giles flew
down the hallway and grabbed a handful of stakes, his crossbow, and a
large wooden cross and then returned, struggling to hold his unwieldy
arsenal together. He saw Buffy wriggling into her clothing under the
blanket. Spike lay in a relaxed sprawl, unmoved except to peek under the
blanket at Buffy's flustered rush to clothe herself.
"Did he turn you, Buffy? Are you a vampire?" Giles stood with the
crossbow wedged between his knees, trying to brandish the cross and load
the weapon at the same time. A stake clattered to the floor from his
armpit.
"Oh, I turned her all right," Spike smirked, his mind clearing a bit
from the glut of pleasure they were steeped in. "Turned her right
'round." He reached under the blanket and pinched Buffy's bum.
"Shush-- EEP!" Buffy scolded and squeaked. She emerged from the blanket
disheveled and hurriedly dressed. "I'm not a vampire, Giles. Calm down."
"I am perfectly calm!" Giles exclaimed in a loud and unconvincing voice.
He grabbed the crossbow with haste and gestured boldly, discharging a
bolt that hit the ceiling and ricocheted back down to the floor.
"Giles! Calm down."
Spike folded his arms behind his head. "I like this in-charge you,
Watcher. Very daring. Mack Sennet himself couldn't have entertained me
any better."
"Buffy?" There was a wild look in Giles' eyes. Buffy reached out and
took the cross from him.
"Not a vampire, see?"
"Well, that's a relief." Giles released a great volume of air and felt
his heartbeat slow to tolerable levels. "Then, this is just...er..."
"This is none of your business, Giles." Buffy nodded pertly and turned
back to Spike.
"Would you like a donut or something? I can go to the coffee shop and
get something." Buffy felt an attack of the post coital munchies coming
on.
"I think you know what I'd like," Spike raised himself high on his
elbows. The blanket slipped dangerously low on his hips, barely
concealing the protuberance beneath.
The piping sound of water boiling in a kettle came as a welcome escape
for Giles. "That would be the kettle." Giles pointed in the direction of
his office. "I'll just go see to that. Right now."
"There's tea? Oi! Watcher-man, I'll have a cuppa!" Spike called out the
door, stood up and walked toward Buffy.
"Clothes, Spike! Giles is in the building." She hissed an unnecessary
whisper.
"He already knows I'm starkers. I think you've got a right pervert
there, love."
"Oh God, I have to talk to Giles about this." A knot of muscle gathered
on Buffy's forehead.
"Listen, if the lad has any questions, I could draw him some helpful
diagrams." Spike figured the Watcher's current sexual quotient was nil.
"Spike--" He swept her into an embrace and kissed her. Buffy pushed
herself away only to have him grip her tighter.
"Stay with me. I think there's a few nooks and crannies I missed last
night. What say I give you a thorough seeing to, hmm?" The tenor of his
voice settled deep in Buffy's abdomen. She looked into his promising
eyes.
"I really should--" The sentence ended as she melted into his mouth once
again. A strong hand slid down her back and cupped her bottom tightly.
Buffy surfaced from the kiss and took a deep, dreamy breath. "This is me
going to talk to Giles." She sighed with contentment but didn't move. A
few kisses later she finally made it to the door. She combed her fingers
through her hair quickly while her gaze lingered over his gleaming
flesh. "Um, you really better put something on."
*
After a brief visit to the washroom, Buffy walked out onto the floor of
the shop. Giles stood waiting for her with his hands on his hips and a
look of complete exasperation on his face. He had an uncanny way of
making Buffy feel like she was about twelve. His eyelids began to blink
at an accelerated rate.
"Buffy, have you any idea what could have happened to you last night?
How could you think of engaging in such dangerous activities with
that...creature?" Giles' old prejudices came to the fore. "This was just
the sort of incident I was trying to avoid."
"He's not a creature, Giles, and I'll thank you never to say such a
thing to me again." Buffy nailed Giles with her best back off scowl.
"He's Spike, my Spike."
"You don't know that!"
"I DO know it! I've been with him the most and I know. I've seen it."
"You're looking through the eyes of love, Buffy. Your perspective, not
to mention your judgement, is clearly clouded by your emotions." Buffy
glared at him. She wasn't some hormone bomb with a hair trigger fuse.
She knew what she knew.
"You're wrong Giles. You've been wrong before and you're wrong now. I
thought the Council was working toward a more paranoia free modus
operandi, or is that just for the brochures? I guess old habits die
hard."
"Buffy--"
"Spike's better now. He's calmer, in control. Why can't you see that?
He's been in control for weeks. It's his soul, Giles, it was never
touched by that demon. He could have killed me or turned me but he
didn't." Giles took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose
readying himself for the inevitable.
"Spike is coming home with me today. He's not staying in that lock box
another night."
"And what is your guarantee that he won't start killing again once he's
loose?"
"I don't have guarantees Giles. I don't have a checklist when it comes
to Spike. He showed me once he could be a good man, that he is a good
man. Those instincts are still in him. I know they are. I know it. I
made promises to him and I'm not going back on them."
"It's simply too soon."
"There's never going to be a right time for you Giles and I'm going to
be with him. I'm not going to let him down."
"Is there nothing I can say to convince you otherwise?"
"No. There's nothing to say. I don't need your permission, Giles, and
you won't need to call in the troops. I'll be with him." Giles knew it
was useless to argue. Stubbornness ran deep in the slayer line and the
Summers line.
"You'll need to be vigilant."
"I'm going to believe in him, Giles, and love him. His love made me
better. It made the world better. He still has that inside him. I know
he does. I can feel it."
*
Willow answered her door in a pair of baggy cargo pants and a t-shirt
with an image of Tweety Bird emblazoned on it.
"Hey Buffy, come on in." Willow recognized a resolve face when she saw
it. She closed the door and walked toward her small kitchenette, already
suspecting the reason for Buffy's early morning visit. "I've got some of
that organic juice you liked. Would you care for a glass?"
"That sounds great, thanks." Buffy slid into a chair at Willow's table.
Willow poured two tumblers of a murky liquid. The friends sat in silence
for a few moments before Buffy began to speak.
Willow wasn't exactly shocked at the news Buffy revealed. There had
always been something incendiary between Buffy and Spike even way back
when Willow wore jumpers. In all honesty, Willow was surprised Buffy had
lasted this long. It was a risk, of course. There could have been
biting, very bad biting, but from what she could see behind Buffy's
collar there apparently had been some biting of the very good kind. That
had to be a positive sign. If there was a cheery thought to be had,
Willow would try her darnedest to have it.
Buffy liked to talk out her problems but often she didn't require much
of a response, just a willing ear. Saying things aloud sometimes reduced
trouble from apocalyptic proportions into tidy bite sized snacks. Of
course, that didn't always hold true. Buffy had a way of talking herself
around an issue until she wound up more confused than not. Willow found
herself nodding for no reason. Maybe she should say something. Perhaps a
perky grin was in order. Rarely was the Willow perky grin unwelcome.
Buffy sounded hopeful, yet conflicted, fearful that the other shoe may
drop. Sunnydale had a tendency to do that to a person.
"Will, help me out here. Tell me I'm not doing exactly what Drusilla
did." It was obvious to Willow that Buffy had lost the reins of
perspective in this matter. She twisted her mouth.
"Huh?"
"Trying to make him what I want. What he was with me."
That made absolutely no sense to Willow. Who Spike was with Buffy WAS
Spike. "Buffy, what Drusilla did was retribution. You know that. What
you've-- we've done is nothing like that."
"He's in a cage, Will. A cage. And I put him in there. He's totally
dependent on me and what do I do? I have sex all over him; a lot of hot,
nasty, magnificent sex. If he's developing feelings, then no wonder.
What if it's that weird Stocking Syndrome that hostages get?"
"Stockholm."
"Huh?"
"Don't do this to yourself, Buffy. You were keeping him safe, you are
keeping him safe."
"Corralled, you mean. How is keeping him confined any different than
that stupid chip?"
"Well...um...it is different than the chip and he did need to be
corralled. Don't forget that whole foaming at the mouth phase, Buffy,
that was not pretty."
"But he's over that and still I've kept him in a box." Buffy closed her
eyes and sighed.
"What you've done, you've done out of love--"
"I don't know, Will. I think I may be using him. I look at him and I see
the man I love and I want him."
"Buffy, stop torturing yourself. Really. You've acted from a good place.
You have."
"I don't know about that. I can get pretty needy." The one thing she
needed was Spike. "I'm afraid of losing him."
"Considering what Drusilla did to him, that's perfectly understandable."
Buffy appreciated Willow's support. Fear, however, was not a good
building block for a new relationship. Everything she and Spike once had
was gone. Drusilla made sure of that. Sex was one thing but would he
want anything else with her?
"He can't be in there forever, Will."
"Hey, not forever. Nobody said forever. Who said forever?"
"Just until he decides to love me? How desperate does that sound? I have
to be better than that." Buffy's forehead softened. The tension
evaporated from her temples. "I owe him. He gave me love and a life
beyond slaying. How can I hold him hostage and force him to jump through
my hoops?"
"Whoa, there's no hoops. Buffy, you are hoopless."
Buffy's mouth quirked with an uneasy chagrin. "I think there's been some
hoops, Will."
"What are you saying?"
"I have to do what's right for him."
"Something tells me Giles isn't going to like this."
"I've already talked to Giles. This isn't his decision to make. I can't
do what's right for Giles. Spike has to be my top priority. I have to do
what's right for him. I have to show him that I trust him enough..." How
could she deny Spike the very thing he gave to her: a better life, and
the world for an oyster. Whether it was sooner or later the risk would
be there. When Buffy spoke again Willow leaned forward to hear. The
words accompanied a steely determination.
"I have to give him what he deserves."
19.
The door to the cell flew open. Buffy stood in the opening with a look
of breathless anticipation on her face. Spike took off his earphones and
stood for an easy stretch. Playtime had arrived.
"You sure that Watcher of yours is British? He gave me a cup of
something green that smelled like a perfume bottle and had the bloody
nerve to call it tea!" Clearly the vampire had specific parameters for
what constituted a proper cuppa. Buffy didn't pay attention to what
Spike said. She launched straight into a breathless speech.
"I don't know why you loved me. I never really thought too deeply about
it."
"What's that now?"
"For the longest time I thought it was wrong and twisted, but you made
me see the truth."
"Should I be sitting for this?" If she was going down memory lane
perhaps he should get comfortable.
"There was plenty of bad stuff between us, Spike. Plenty. I was a bitch
to you for a long, long time. There was an extended period of excessive
bitchiness...with punching."
"Really? Sounds fascinating." His tongue executed a lazy maneuver over
the edge of his incisors.
"It wasn't. I used you. I used your feelings to make me feel good, to
make me feel something, to make me feel whole. I hurt you and it was
wrong. I can't remember really apologizing for that before. I'm sorry I
did that to you."
"If it makes you feel better, I don't remember."
"You need to know. When it was bad between us, it was really bad. I kept
rationalizing my behavior so I could continue it. But that stopped and
we found a way past the misery. You helped me change and I think I have.
I'll always be grateful to you for that."
There was something else she wasn't saying. Spike tilted his head,
trying to decipher the feeling inside him. He knew he'd also behaved
badly.
"The one thing I valued most about our relationship was that it was
equal. Not at first, but later it was. But this here with you locked up?
It's not equal and it's not fair."
Spike stepped toward her. "You hear me complaining?" His eyes were soft
on her face, no longer empty and cold but full and blazing embers for
her. An echo of another confrontation visited Buffy's mind: a blast
ruined bed, the look of confusion on Spike's face and her steely
determination to finally do the right thing. The right thing.
"I loved you. I love you. I never stopped." Buffy closed the gap between
them.
Spike lightly caressed her cheek. "I hurt you, too. I can feel it." The
shadows in her eyes confirmed his suspicions. It was a helpless feeling,
not knowing what he'd done.
"You-- That's--" Buffy hesitated and then found her strength once more.
"I love you, that's what I remember." They'd put the hurt behind them
and left it there. Spike taught her what it meant to be better than your
worst act, because he was. His example let Buffy know it was possible to
hold her chin up and look ahead. Because he could.
"I can't give you what I don't remember. I don't remember saying the
words but I feel you in here." Spike put his palm flat against his
stomach and rubbed. "You're in my guts."
Buffy nodded. "Mine too." She raised to her tiptoes and kissed him
softly. "I love you." No trace of antagonism rose between them. Spike
stood still and let her kiss him. He felt the truth of her words and the
truth of her lips. A sweetheart's kiss blossomed between them, soft and
unhurried. Eventually, she looked up at him with those hopeful, puppy
eyes.
"I asked Willow to remove the wards."
"And that means?"
"Would you like to come to our house?" Buffy almost hid her nervousness
in a questioning smile. With freedom in the offing Spike felt a little
different than he'd imagined. He meant something to this girl and
suddenly he wanted it. He liked how he felt when she looked at him
exactly the way she was looking at him now. He wanted that feeling to
continue.
"Yeah, I think I could do that." Buffy offered her hand and he took it
and together they walked out of the room with the locked door.
*
Freedom is a funny thing. It comes with its own skewed perspective.
Sunnydale after dark was the most beautiful vista he'd ever seen. The
graffiti scrawled dumpsters and winking neon lights were dazzling. Even
the oil stains coiling into brilliant kaleidoscopes of color in the
crater of a small pothole were breathtaking. The hellmouth may have been
sealed, but its presence still could be detected. A soft humming
vibration trickled up Spike's legs from the pavement and pooled in his
crotch.
It gave him a few ideas.
Outside the Magic Box Buffy stood quietly, waiting to see what Spike
might do. He took a few, deep breaths to assess the territory. Two pairs
of eyes twinkled an unspoken communication and then they were off,
running through the night, playing a variation of tag at breakneck
speed.
Spike cornered Buffy near the vehicle shed in the Forest Glade Cemetery.
She dodged his grasp but tripped on a section of tree root, falling
backwards to the ground. Spike pounced upon her with a snarl that made
her nipples vibrate. He took an appreciative peek down her blouse and
then licked the pulse point on her neck.
"Getting rusty, Slayer?"
"Stop slobbering on me!" Buffy protested.
"Ain't my fault you make my mouth water."
"That was no fair! I tripped. I get a do-over."
"A do-over? You're the bloody Slayer! Supposedly swift of foot and all
that? Yeah, right. Bunch of bollocks if you ask me."
"Hey!" Buffy wriggled under his grasp.
"I appreciate your sexy squirming and all, love, but I know you're not
even trying. Highly suspicious behavior, that. Makes me think you might
like being pinned under old Spike. Is that it? You like me on
top...holding you down? Come on, admit it."
"I'm so going to kick your ass!"
"You say the sweetest things, Slayer, but you'll have to catch me
first." With that said he was off of her and gone in a flash.
Buffy bounced to her feet and raced after him. She was going to catch
him and pin him down and make him squirm and see how he liked that. The
game went back and forth with both competitors enjoying the chase and
relishing the capture. It was yet another version of foreplay that left
them champing at the bit for something more.
Eventually, Buffy found herself catching her breath behind the tree in
her own front yard. From out of nowhere Spike attacked and tackled her.
They came to a rolling stop in a heap near her porch steps. Buffy sat up
astride him and looked at her house.
"This is it, Spike. This is home." The easy, flirty feelings from their
game drifted away. Spike stopped giggling and stared at the unassuming
façade with a contemplative _expression on his face. Buffy shifted off of
him and stood up. Doubt settled into his mind and got comfortable.
Stories were one thing, but inside that building was tangible proof of
the life he had lived and the heroic vampire he had become.
It was a sobering threshold.
Any fantasy she'd had of him sweeping her off her feet ended when Spike
walked through the front door. He wandered from room to room, neutrally
acknowledging his books and video games. It was an anonymous two-story
home among other anonymous two-story homes. Spike had lived in the
fanciest hotels on the continent, in caves and grand estates and squalid
crypts. This house was small town ordinary to be sure, but at least
there was no knitted cardigan in sight. If there was any hint that he'd
become Mr. Rogers, Spike was out the door.
The walls fascinated and intimidated him. They held a gallery of framed
pictures, snapshots from some other vampire's life. There was a tall
young girl in a graduation cap and gown hugging him under a shady
archway and what looked like a dinner party with the red headed witch
he'd caught a few glimpses of, the Watcher and some grinning yob in a
loud shirt and eye patch. There was a picture of the Slayer and a
younger version of the graduate with another woman. Spike could see
plainly that it was a family portrait, a mother and her daughters.
Another photo pictured a flaming cake with the Slayer holding up a fire
extinguisher. He was laughing in that one.
He was smiling in most of them, or putting on an exaggerated scowl, or
snuggling with the Slayer. There were lots of cheek to cheek candid
shots with the slayer. They were family photos, loving and intimate.
This had been his place, his family. He'd been happy here. The
juxtaposition of his obvious contentment in those photos and his present
state of simmering panic was surreal. He'd found something good, a place
to belong. Why couldn't Drusilla have left him the hell alone?
One picture frame propped up on a side table caught his attention. In it
he stood next to Angelus. They were both dressed in fancy suits and had
almost cordial expressions on their faces. On closer inspection Spike
could have sworn he was giggling in the picture.
"What's this one?" His tone remained neutral although curiosity and
anxiety battled just beneath the surface.
"That was a party."
"And he came?"
"He really is a friend." Spike wrinkled his brow, not ready to approach
that possibility. Making friendly with Angelus was not something Spike
wanted to think too deeply about. Instead, he changed the topic.
"You made me wear a suit?" Spike looked at her with disdain. Her eyes
clouded over again. It hurt him to see her like that. In pain. His
Adam's apple jostled in response.
"You looked so handsome in that suit. I couldn't take my eyes off you."
She stepped to his side for a closer look. The memory of laughter rose
in her mind. There was an album full of pictures from that day. This one
deserved special status.
"What was the occasion?"
Buffy's throat thickened. "Us..." There was more to say but her voice
faltered. Their happy life together seemed so far away. She struggled
on. "It was a wonderful day." The words faded on her tongue. Again Spike
took up another line of questioning.
"And I live here?"
"We do. This was my mom's house."
"And Mother approves, does she?" Spike raised his eyebrow at that
provocative thought.
Buffy spoke plainly. "My mom died, but she did like you. Yes, I think
she would have approved."
"The girl in the graduation gown?"
"That's my sister Dawn. She's at university back east."
She wanted to touch him. It was a bit much to take in all at once. "Are
you hungry? I can warm up some blood." Spike stood stiffly, his hands in
his pockets, not knowing what to do or what to say. It was a weird
sensation to a being accustomed to weird sensations. What did she expect
of him? He stared at his boots. "Spike?"
"I'm okay." Specifically, he wasn't hungry. But okay? Not even close.
"Well, I'm getting a soda." Buffy had to do something to break the
tension. "Why don't you turn on the television and see what's on?" She
turned her back and walked into the kitchen, needing a few moments to
herself to find some emotional equilibrium; gripping the refrigerator
door handle would have to suffice. She stood quietly, half expecting to
hear the front door slam. Instead, Buffy heard the television switch on.
The innocuous blast of jumbled sounds filled her ears as Spike flipped
through the channels. Some things didn't change. She returned and saw
him standing in front of the set mindlessly flipping. He looked ill at
ease in a room he did not know.
"There's a sofa if you want to sit." Buffy gestured with her hand. This
was going to be hard.
"Been sitting a lot lately." He looked at the _expression on her face.
Cautious. Anticipating something. Too agitated to even think about not
paying attention to the television, Spike shut it off and tossed the
remote on the coffee table.
"Well, we could--" His body bristled.
"This isn't me, Slayer." His apprehension bubbled to the surface. Buffy
could see the discomfort in his posture. He stood with his weight on one
leg, trying to diminish his presence. "The bloke in these pictures.
That's not me."
"Yes, he is."
"Slayer, I don't belong here."
"Yes, you do."
"And I'm no bloody hero--"
"You are." He was in no mood to be convinced.
"Listen to me! I'm a bad man, a monster! Have fangs, will travel? That
sound familiar? You don't want this in your house," his face shifted
ominously. "In your life."
"You won't scare me away." Buffy put down her drink and stood her
ground. "I know who you are, who you were and who you can be. I used to
think I was strong, but you showed me strength. You helped me be better
than I was. You showed me what was possible; that life didn't have to be
all bad. You helped me hold on to what matters." She put her hand on his
arm. "Spike, you made me a believer."
"Don't--" Spike tried to shrink away but she wouldn't let him.
"You've already done it. You were that hero. You are that hero. It can't
be erased. Not by Drusilla, not by anyone."
"But I'm evil." His voice cracked with frustration instead of
conviction. "That's what I'm supposed to be." He knew that role
intimately and he was good at it. Okay, he wasn't Angelus material, but
it was what he knew. His volume dropped. "I wouldn't know how to be
good, even if I wanted to...which I don't." Buffy saw confusion in
Spike's yellow eyes. He didn't feel particularly evil anymore but he
didn't feel good either. He felt uncertain and that terrified him.
"There's nothing you have to do, Spike." Buffy spoke softly, trying to
reassure him. She wasn't going to push. "Just be yourself. Do what feels
right."
"Be myself?" What the hell did that mean now? He chewed on his lower lip
and gripped her shoulders tightly. It was a half hearted attempt at a
menacing posture. "If I was truly myself Slayer, you'd be dead. Dead and
drained. I should be hunting, howling, stalking prey. You shouldn't turn
your back on me. I'm a vampire." He recited his creed dutifully but it
came across almost as if he was trying to convince himself. Truth be
told, he could use a bottle of whiskey and a little wallowing time.
Instead, he hardened his voice, ready to attack.
"I do what I want. I take what I want. What I-- I want--" His hand moved
surely to the back of her neck, holding her in place for his kiss. She
felt the demon's face melt into his smooth human form. His lips moved
over hers in an agitated state; urgent hunger mixed with loneliness.
Buffy returned his attentions with equal measure. Spike broke free of
her lips and held her face steady in his hands.
"You..." he whispered and drew his cheek slowly across hers. Spike
threaded his fingers through her hair. It was a losing battle; he could
feel it inside. What he wanted, what he needed, it was all right here;
not somewhere out there around the next corner or beyond the next town,
but here in the sad eyes of this strangely beautiful girl. He found
himself anew in the last place he'd ever have thought to look, in the
eyes of his enemy.
"You feel right." Spike mumbled into the curve if her throat. It was the
truth. She was the only thing that made sense in all of this, the only
thing that felt right. Buffy clutched at his shoulders, molding herself
to the hard contours of his frame. She managed to speak between heady
gasps of pleasure.
"Bedroom...upstairs..."
20.
"Bedroom...upstairs..."
As soon as the words fell from Buffy's lips Spike snarled, threw her up
over his shoulder and headed for the stairs. She squeaked in response
and watched as the living room quickly disappeared from view. Buffy
didn't have the chance to direct him because he went to their bedroom
without hesitation and flung open the door. With little ceremony Spike
hoisted her off his shoulder and plopped her down bouncing on the bed
only to dive after her.
Nobody did cave man like Spike.
They moved in a frenzy of limbs twisting together, kissing, caressing
and attempting none too successfully to remove clothing. When his
t-shirt became twisted between his head and an elbow, Spike rose to his
knees and yanked it off. Once free of that entanglement, Spike struck
like a lightning flash. His fingers worked Buffy's jeans open and yanked
them down her legs. Frustrating seconds passed as he pried off her
shoes. Buffy took the opportunity to stretch over to the side of the bed
and switch on the bedside lamp. One track mind Spike was a wonder to
behold. He pulled her blouse off over her head and removed her bra. Her
innocent panties did nothing to deserve their swift and immediate
destruction.
"Open." He growled the command and she obeyed, opening her thighs wide
for him. "Mmm, lots of practice spreading your legs, I see." Another
groan of admiration rumbled from his throat as he took in the
tantalizing sight before him. He paused momentarily to watch her blood
surge to that area, engorging her labia and thickening her clitoris with
anticipation alone. Glistening trickles of lubrication winked at him in
the low light. He could wait no longer. His tongue would have
satisfaction. A preliminary lick prompted a slippery grin. "Knew you'd
taste like--" His compliment abruptly ended as his mouth fastened over
her.
For all their previous aerobic activities, they hadn't got around to
this act before Giles interrupted them. The return of Spike's tongue to
that place was more than Buffy could bear. Her legs seized
uncontrollably and slammed against his head. This caught Spike's
attention. He paused at the dizzying and unexpected blow and then pried
her legs open once again.
"None of that now, missy," he cooed, savoring the thought that his
tongue had just unraveled a slayer. "Let's play nice." He cautioned her
coolly and then smirked at her furious blush. "I don't much fancy you
cracking my skull, love. Hold them for me?" Buffy gulped and slid her
hands under her knees, opening herself up to him once again. "That's
right, nice and wide..."
She'd missed his tongue terribly. Nothing she did alone could replicate
what he did with that tongue. In contrast to his gruff demeanor and
agitated mindset, his physical attentions were urgent but controlled. He
had her writhing and panting again within seconds. Soon Buffy reached
for his head and gripped his hair, holding him to her body. She leaned
up on an elbow and watched him pleasure her. Spike looked up and locked
stares with her.
He paused briefly for some erotic goading. "You're one juicy girl." Two
fingers worked her responsive flesh as his lips slurped the secretions
that bubbled up. Buffy's forehead buckled under the onslaught. "Don't
fight it," he lulled, "give it to me." Spike latched onto her clit once
more and picked up the pace of his finger thrusts.
Buffy arched forcefully into his face as her fluids flooded his buried
fingers. She thrashed in his embrace, trying to escape his mouth, only
to surge back into him and thrust against his chin and mouth. A breathy
squeal soon tore from her parched throat.
"Just what I thought...tasty and musical." Spike stood and kicked off
his boots and then his jeans. Buffy roused from her giddy orgasm and
watched him standing before her, peeling his jeans from his body. "I
must admit, you're kinda fun, Slayer." Spike sucked his fingers into his
mouth to clean off the remains of her pleasure.
"You want fun, do you?" Buffy scrambled to her feet with breathless glee
and grabbed him. She threw him back down on the bed. He chuckled in
response and eased up onto his elbows, his cock stood a lazy sentinel
between them.
"I'll give you top marks for effort, love, but I think there's some room
for improvement."
Buffy's eyes widened with incredulity. "You think I need improving?"
That was too much. Buffy dove after him and initiated a playful
wrestling match, although their moves were more sensual than predatory.
"Think you could stand a little instruction, yeah." Spike's eyes blazed
with arousal.
"What!? Instruction? Me?" The words sputtered from her mouth. "That is
ridiculous. Seems to me you're the one who needs to get some manners!"
"Is that so?" Spike grabbed her and tried to flip them and enter her.
Buffy was ready for his tactics. She rolled them completely and came out
on top again, holding his hands immobile above his head.
"You were never perfect, Spike, but you could be well mannered." She
rubbed herself against his now straining cock and realized her tactical
error immediately. From this vantage, he could probably buck her off if
he wanted, which didn't seem likely from the look on his face, but she
had little room for further maneuvering except holding him steady.
"Maybe you need to go back to obedience school and learn a few manners,
huh?"
"That sounds nasty, Slayer. Do I get to be teacher's pet?"
"See that? Talking back is very rude. I may need a choke chain--" At
that spontaneous statement, a low vibration rose from Spike's throat.
His neglected cock prodded her swollen cleft with its own urgent
demands.
"That an offer, love? Or are you just teasing a fellow?"
Buffy flipped her hair to the side, finally thinking of something else
to entice him with. Her hair always held tactical advantage. It cascaded
down over the side of his face. She experimented with a steely kitten
facial expression. "Maybe I should just handcuff you to this bed for
starters. Then I can work on your poor attitude--"
"Think you got the cure for that?" His tongue wagged over the edge of
his lower lip like a dog's tail. Steely kitten face didn't do the job.
It was time for don't-mess-around-with-me resolve face, complete with
suggestive sneer. She needed to maintain her strength of will.
"I know I do."
Spike had no doubt she probably did. "You really think you can make me
behave, do you Slayer? Bigger fish than you have tried and failed."
"Oh, I can be very persuasive."
"Is that so?" Spike flared his eyebrows in heady defiance; that was
exactly what he wanted to hear. He was more than ready for some lengthy
persuasion.
Buffy dipped her head and kissed him. Her grip on his wrists loosened as
the kiss deepened. "I had a very persistent teacher," she whispered
between kisses. "When you love someone you don't give up and I'm not
losing you." It was all Spike needed to turn the tables. In a flash he
flipped over on top of her and pinned her hands above her head.
Spike pressed his hips sideways against her inner thighs, spreading her
wide once more. Buffy's breathing became harsh and audible.
"Think you call the shots, Slayer?" Spike propped himself up on one
elbow and held both of her wrists with that hand. He did his best not to
betray his desires too soon. The world? Seen it. Diabolical schemes?
Never his forte. Killing the slayer? Done it twice already. What he felt
for this girl was well worth exploring for the foreseeable future, and
Spike could see a long, long way. Perhaps she needed a timely reminder
though; after all, he wasn't some cuddly teddy bear. He had fangs.
"I've killed your kind." There was an edge of seductive menace in his
husky whisper. Yeah, he was dangerous all right, not some cookie cutter
lover she could easily figure out. He'd keep her guessing and teach her
a thing or two.
Buffy snapped a quick reply. "And I've staked yours, but we have a
different arrangement." She squirmed in his iron grasp. "Put yourself
inside me...NOW!" Demanding and arrogant with a lip ripe for biting, she
was one mouth-watering package. Spike could hardly contain his effusive
delight.
"Sassy little chit, ain't ya?" Spike giggled and paused, challenging his
own control by holding his cock poised at her opening. Buffy bucked her
hips in an effort to hurry him along. Her impatience only fueled his
lust but he wanted her to twist a little longer.
"Bloody hell but you're sexy like this...all in a lather...ready to
pop." She was a delicious sight before him. Spike leaned down and took a
nipple between his lips, nibbling it to erection.
"Stop teasing me." Spike raised his head and offered her a sly grin.
"Look at me," his sex-soaked voice cleared momentarily. "Tell me you
love me...not some memory...not some photograph...me." Buffy's eyes
widened in response.
"I love you. I do."
"Tell me you want me." He morphed again. His face looked hard and cruel
but his eyes were soft. Buffy's hips started to tremor.
"I want you." Shivers cascaded down his spine and a snarl began in his
throat.
"Tell me." Spike leaned into her neck and swept his tongue slowly along
her skin.
"Love you." Buffy released a breathy whisper. Spike's eyelids fell to
half mast and his tone softened once again.
"What do you say, naughty girl?" Spike worried her clit with his oozing
glans. Buffy licked her lips and looked into the eyes of her champion.
"Please..."
With a tender thrust he was inside her once more. Spike opened his mouth
and passed it over her jaw and cheek, emitting a low vibration from his
throat. Goose flesh spread over her skin. Buffy could only manage a
strangled gasp as a slow, shattering climax took her.
She encircled him with her arms, wanting him as close as possible. This
was when sex was the best. Up close and intimate. Eyes open. A tongue's
breadth between them. Slow dancing in her flame was a new experience for
him. The look on her face as he took her deep and easy was something he
wanted to last. Buffy's swollen lips undulated in wanton gasps in
reaction to the building storm of his thighs. Spike licked and nibbled
at her mouth in soft and urgent punctuation.
It was too much to achieve so soon. The demon refused to sit on the
sidelines when such wonders were on offer. This was his mate, his
treasure, and he knew she didn't want him to hold back. Their bodies
eventually demanded a rhythm he had no choice but surrender to. Again
she matched his accelerating fever. The bed began to squeak in protest
under their efforts. Faster and faster they raced, chasing each other to
the summit.
"Spike!" Buffy's face twisted with need. Her fingernails dug into the
skin of his shoulder and the back of his neck, forcing him closer.
Nothing could stop the momentum snarling between them. Spike hunched
over her, relentless between her thighs. His eyes narrowed to golden
slits ready to take what he already knew was his.
"You're mine..."
"Mine..." Buffy repeated and arched into his body. She threw her head to
one side just as his fangs sought their destination. A whoosh of sound
and light flew through Buffy's mind and then the dizzying drop.
Entwined. Entangled. Falling together. Holding hands. Spike followed
closely, toppling after her to surrendered completion and then lips and
fingertips and the truth of kisses released from enchantment.
Spike's mind floated with a rush of words strung together in a haphazard
melee. It couldn't be helped. He'd long had a penchant for verse that
normally would have been suppressed but William would be ignored no
longer. He felt like shouting from the rooftops. In this state of
unrestrained splendor, Spike didn't have the strength to resist. It was
enough to silence a spontaneous recitation but the words sang boldly
through his body and mind:
In shadowed rooms of days half filled,
The twilight of my recollection stilled.
A spark unfurled, petitions spoken,
The heart of Beauty's touch unbroken.
Keats was never in any danger, but at least Spike wasn't wrestling with
that behemoth, effulgent. He learned his lesson regarding cooperative
end rhymes long ago.
Spike nestled against Buffy's flaming body and let himself fall, free of
the distant past he knew and the recent past he'd never own. Free of
Drusilla's reach. This was a different surrender, not to darkness or
oblivion or to the pain of a mind torn in shreds, but to sweetness and
acceptance; to ease and contentment; to the arms of the slayer who knew
him and loved him.
21.
The night passed in a haze of soft, sweet kisses and delirious whispers.
In the depths of sleep or dozing on the tiptoes of consciousness, Buffy
finally rested. With Spike by her side she could breathe easy. Her lungs
no longer felt constricted. Where once she'd had to struggle to unclench
her fists from the prison of her pillow, now her fingers lay flat
between springtime fresh sheets and the smooth muscled contours of a
sleeping vampire.
Hours later, Buffy roused from a restful sleep with a smile on her lips,
a breathy giggle wasn't far behind. Once again the bed smelled like
Spike. She rolled over and stretched out a hand in search of him but
found only wrinkled linens. "Spike?" No answer. She looked around her
room and blinked herself to awareness. Her eyes drifted to the weapons
chest where Spike's leather duster had been folded on top. It was gone.
Time to wake up.
"Spike?"
Buffy grabbed her bathrobe. It was daylight and he couldn't have gotten
far; if he wanted to, that is. She hoped he hadn't wanted to. There was
a sewer entrance located two houses over but he didn't know that. At the
top of the stairs her fleeting thoughts stopped. She heard sounds in the
kitchen: some humming, assorted indecipherable lyrics and a growly,
throaty imitation of what could have been a guitar solo or maybe a bass.
The soft beeps from the microwave calmed her. Spike was content for the
time being and she had a pressing call.
After a needed pit stop in the bathroom, Buffy headed downstairs. In the
kitchen doorway she paused and leaned into the door frame. Spike's hair
was sleep tossed. He wore his leather coat and his jeans and was busy
organizing plates of food.
Barefoot and sexy and in the kitchen, what a lovely picture.
"Morning, sweet thing." His smile was dazzling.
"Ugh. Don't tell me you're suddenly a morning person?"
"What can I say? I woke up and you were dead to the world. Thought I'd
have a look about and get some nosh going."
"Uh huh." Buffy opened her mouth in a gigantic yawn.
"We really need to fetch my tunes at some point. You do realize that all
you have here is a pile of CDs with a bunch of pouting tossers on them.
Oh, and Bette Midler? Isn't that a little too easy listening for you,
Slayer?" Buffy had to admit she'd been a bit lax as far as new CD
purchases went. In her defense, it had been difficult to elbow her way
around Spike to get to the stereo. She'd developed a tolerance of sorts
for Spike's more muscular music. Ear plugs were a valued ally in that
pursuit.
"Hey, Bette Midler's good! If I can listen to the Ramones, you can put
up with her." Buffy stopped speaking, fascinated by Spike's culinary
fussing.
"I was just putting together some breakfast." She looked at his
assembled collection of questionable breakfast items: a jar of habanero
peppers, a plate of marshmallow puff cookies, a mug of warm blood and a
steaming plate of familiar munchies. That was a hungry vampire
breakfast.
"I found these things in the freezer. You've got to try them." Spike's
eyes twinkled. "It's the flower of an onion and some genius deep fried
it. It's bloody brilliant! I've had half the box." He raised the plate
to offer her a steaming morsel. "Try one."
"Not for breakfast, thanks."
Spike shrugged and set the plate back down on the table. Buffy opened
the refrigerator and took out a container of yogurt and a jug of orange
juice. She watched as Spike sat and started dipping each of the
selections into the mug of blood and then depositing them into his
mouth. She hadn't seen a habanero pepper sandwiched between two
marshmallow cookies before, let alone dipped in blood, but Spike seemed
to enjoy it. He greedily gobbled the food and licked his fingers clean.
Buffy grabbed a peach off the counter and a knife from the utensil
drawer. She peeled the peach and chopped it into a bowl and then added a
couple of dollops of yogurt and a tablespoon of wheat germ. She then
poured herself a glass of juice and drank it down. From Spike's
expression she could tell he was not impressed with her breakfast
choice.
"That's baby food, Slayer. You need something substantial. I can whip
you up some steak and eggs; that'll put hair on your chest."
"Ew, no thanks."
"Don't tell me you're one of those vegetable people."
"I eat meat."
"Yeah, I know." The highlights of the night's exploits materialized
instantly on Spike's face, settling in a dangerous looking smirk. Buffy
blushed deeply.
"Don't be so crude." She tried to look stern. It wasn't working.
"Didn't bother you last night...Miss Nasty Tongue..."
"You-- Just--" A flustered slayer was a delight to behold. Buffy tried
to gain some control. "You eat what you want and I'll eat what I want."
There, that should do it. Spike reached out and grabbed her, bringing
her onto his lap.
"What a delicious offer. I'd love some seconds." His hands stroked her
hips and thighs. She squirmed on his lap trying to evade his questing
hands, hold her robe closed and not spill her breakfast. "Keep that up
and I'll be introducing you to an entirely different menu, Slayer."
Buffy ceased wiggling and turned her attention to her bowl. Spike
brought a marshmallow cookie to his mouth for a suggestive lick. "How
about a little Buffy sauce? Hmm? Or is that for my dessert?" He placed
the cookie against his teeth for a brief nibble. Buffy blinked in
speechless abandon while a few naughty dessert options floated across
her brain.
"I see you've found your coat." At last she thought she'd found an
innuendo free topic. Spike settled a bit and looked down with an
appreciative smile to admire himself.
"It smells like you, pet. Tell me, what have you been doing in my
leather to make it smell so bloody good, hmm?" Buffy reddened before
stuffing a defensive spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. Breakfast was
now officially a dangerous activity.
"Stuff," she garbled and set about chewing to hide her grin. Spike
picked out a pepper and dangled it above his mouth, tickling it with his
tongue. Buffy's chewing slowed as she stared at his display. At least
she had the good sense not to whimper. Much. When he pulled her close
for a kiss she balked.
"Nuh uhh," Buffy held up her palm as a shield. "I'm not kissing pickled
pepper tongue. No way." Spike chewed quickly and swallowed the offending
item.
"There," he opened his mouth, "all gone." He lunged toward her.
"Still eating!" Spike satisfied himself by nuzzling into her neck. Soon
Buffy abandoned her bowl in favor of some mutual snuggling. She curled
happily in his arms and ran her palm under the edge of his lapel.
"What's on the schedule for today? I do believe you said something about
handcuffs and a bed?"
"Did I?" A coy smile graced Buffy's lips. Handcuffs were definitely
doable.
"I am feeling a little naughty, love, so you might have to get to the
disciplining as soon as possible." He crinkled his nose for emphasis.
"Giles will probably call and want to come over to interview you." Buffy
was surprised the phone hadn't rung already.
"Does that bloke ever take a day off?"
"Not often."
"Well, I don't bloody answer to him and I won't be seeing any visitors."
Spike pressed deep fried onion blossom crumbs beneath his index finger
and sucked them into his mouth.
"Giles can be pretty insistent."
"Well, if I'm not here the bloke can't bother me, can he?" Buffy sat up.
"There's someplace else you'd like to be?" As the words left her lips
she regretted them. Spike had that odd look on his face again and he
couldn't meet her eyes.
"This is his place, love. I don't fancy competing with what I was."
"This is your place. You belong here, with me. And there's no
competition, period. I'd never do that to you."
"I feel something for you, Slayer, I do, but I'd like to get to know you
without wrestling him. And it can't be here. Tell me where else we've
been."
It was a short list. They kept putting off travel plans for one thing or
another. "Cleveland. We've been to Cleveland." Spike's face knotted in
pained dismay. Buffy spoke up quickly. "FYI...there's a hellmouth there.
It was a business trip." Okay, even that sounded lame to her. They'd
slept on Faith's floor to cut down on expenses.
"Bloody hell. I took you to Cleveland and you didn't stake me?" Buffy
playfully swatted Spike's chest.
"It was fun. We ate out at this romantic restaurant, went to the Rock
and Roll Hall of Fame and killed a bunch of demons."
"Now you're just trying to make me feel better."
"Oh! And we went to Boston with Dawn--"
"Don't tell me we slept on her dorm floor. This just keeps getting
better."
"Oh God, no. She couldn't get rid of us fast enough. We stayed at this
tiny bed and breakfast." A smirk tickled the corner of Buffy's mouth.
"Didn't actually get around to seeing Boston."
"And we've never gone to Europe?"
"We've been saving up."
"I want to take you to Paris. No hellmouth to speak of, but plenty of
fashionable nasties to go around; you know, if you get that slayer itch
and feel like cleaning house?"
"Paris sounds wonderful."
"And Zurich, there's good shopping there. Or Milan. We could travel
around, see what you fancy. Start some new memories." New memories. That
sounded wonderful. Buffy's elation over that prospect soon receded as
thoughts of a shopping tour of Europe crowded in her mind.
Shopping tour. Europe. She felt a little woozy.
"I could probably go for some shopping." Spike raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Been having a snoop since I woke up, love. I found the mother load of
shoes in that spare bedroom."
"Okay, about the shoes. It's a thing."
"Can't wait to find out all your little nasties." Spike nibbled under
her ear.
"Spike!" Buffy squeaked in response to his ticklish lips and the brush
of fingertips sliding up her leg. "We're in the kitchen!"
"Why yes, we are. How observant of you." His fingers did not stop. "I've
noticed some pretty sturdy looking counter tops, too." The sensations
were too exquisite to argue over. Buffy sighed in agreement.
"They are pretty sturdy at that."
"So, how long did you date the Poof?" His fingers stilled their
tantalizing journey. Buffy's jaw gaped open. What did he just say?
"Uhhhhh-what?"
"I am Forehead, hear me roar? Had a snoop, pet, remember? I know a prom
picture when I see one: corsage, pretty dress, Frankenstein for a date.
What? So bad you blocked it out?"
"Um..." Where had that stupid picture been hiding? "We, uh, dated. Yes."
She never actually referred to the Angel years as dating before.
"You were young..." Spike prompted gently.
"Uh huh."
"And he was a moron..."
"Uh huh--" Buffy blinked from her stupor and started to sputter. "Um. It
happened. It was a huge mistake and we were so, so over years ago." Had
she said too much? That was one pit of vipers she didn't want to tap
dance into, not when she felt the morning after yummies.
"You want some more juice?" He really wasn't particularly interested in
the details. The only important fact for Spike was that was then and
this was now. The sudden change of topic unnerved her. Buffy's mouth
quirked.
"And you're not, um, upset by that?" It couldn't be this easy. It could
NOT be this easy. Oh, please let it be this easy.
"Wouldn't have been my preference, but I'm not going to lose sleep over
it. I know all your formers are formers, love, including him."
"H-how?" At Buffy's confused look he nuzzled close to her ear and
snarled softly.
"Because I've tasted it."
A sharp telephone ring cut through the weighted eroticism in the room.
Buffy took a deep breath to clear her mind.
"I better get that. If it's Giles, he'll only come over here and break
down the door if I don't." She stumbled from his lap to the side counter
to answer the phone.
"That lad needs a bird," Spike muttered under his breath and reached for
the last cookie.
"Hello?"
"Ah, Buffy. Good, you're there."
"Yes Giles, I'm here." Buffy turned around and rolled her eyes at Spike.
"And all has, um, gone well? Any difficulties to report?"
She held her palm over the receiver. "He's just wondering how we're
doing."
"We'd be better without the interruptions!" Spike called out. "Go chat
up your own bird, Watcher!"
"Did you hear that?"
"Spike does seem to be in fine form this morning."
"Yes, he is." Buffy's gaze slipped down over Spike's relaxed physique. A
leather framed bare chest was a wonderful thing.
"Tell him to sod off! We're busy." With that said, Spike stood and
stepped toward Buffy. He needed to touch her.
"Spike says to sod off." Buffy conveyed that message with glee.
"Yes, I did catch that plaintive bellow, Buffy. I suppose it was too
much to hope for any substantive changes in his manners."
"You're right Giles. Now that I think of it, Spike has been behaving
very badly." Giles sputtered with concern, unable to read the playful
way she intended that statement. "I should do something about that right
away." Spike flared his eyebrows and closed the gap between their
bodies.
"Buffy! Do you need assistance? I still have some of that tranquilizer.
I can be there in five minutes--" Giles heard some muffled giggling and
then some suspicious slurping and moaning sounds.
"Mmm...it's under control, Giles...no need to...mmm" A soft snarl and
two naughty giggles connected the rest of the uncomfortable dots for
Giles.
"Ah, well. You seem to be, er, otherwise engaged at present. I'll ring
you later and we can talk at length." A telltale click came over the
line. "Buffy? Buffy are you there?"
"We are so going to need to work on your manners," Buffy whispered while
Spike explored beneath her robe. "Hanging up on Giles was..."
"Necessary."
"You think so?" Spike lifted her onto the counter and eased her robe
over her shoulders.
"Absolutely. If that wanker comes over here with a clip board, I'll have
no choice but to bite him."
"Spike! You can't bite Giles. I can't believe you just said that."
"He's a nosey old sod and I think he's been poisoned by sperm
retention."
"SPIKE! That's really--" Buffy put her palm over her mouth in an attempt
to stifle her laugh. It didn't work.
"Mark my words. Have you noticed the way he cleans his glasses? It's
significant, I tell you--"
"I think we should start on your social skills as soon as possible and
there's no time like the present." Buffy moved her foot up the inseam of
Spike's jeans to his crotch. That got his attention away from Giles'
alleged sperm issue.
"Yes ma'am!"
"Ew, don't call me 'ma'am'." She let her foot fall away from his
lengthening erection.
"What would you like me to call you?"
"Well, what about Buffy?" Spike tilted his head to one side and regarded
her.
"Buffy..." He spoke softly, trying out the taste of her name on his
tongue. It wasn't so bad. "Buffy..." Spike dipped his head and kissed
her cheek. A shiver of delight flowed through her body. "Buffy..." He
traced down her arms, chasing the goose flesh to her fingertips.
Interlacing their fingers, Spike brought her hands to his mouth. He bit
the tips of her fingers with blunt teeth. "Buffy..."
"Mmm hmm?"
"I like it."
"Me too." She bit her bottom lip in a smile.
"Now, is there something you'd particularly like me to do for you,
Buffy?" Spike took her right calf in his hand and raised her leg until
her ankle rested on his shoulder.
"Uh huh." Dazed and aroused, she nodded. A twinkle of mischief shone in
her eye. Buffy drew her fingertips lazily down the creamy surface of
Spike's leather.
"What's that, love?"
"Keep your coat on."
Epilogue
"This sure beats videos and popcorn for post slayage relaxation." Buffy
lay against Spike's chest in a claw footed bathtub filled with rose
scented water, munching on a chocolate dipped strawberry held between
his fingertips. "Mmm...I think I'm actually at boneless." She lazily
sucked a smudge of chocolate from the pad of his thumb.
"Can't say the same here, pet." Spike tossed aside a tiny strawberry
stem end and wrapped his arms around Buffy, holding her possessively to
his chest. A slippery, naked slayer draped over his body intermittently
sucking his chocolate flecked fingertips wasn't exactly the recipe for
bonelessness. She wiggled back against him and sighed contentedly at his
rigid response.
"Oh yeah, definitely of the bone-full capacity there." A low rumble
resonated from deep in Spike's chest. He was obviously ready for another
round, and he had the cheek to call her insatiable? With a dreamy sigh
Buffy reached blindly toward the goody plate and found it empty.
"Oh poo! No more strawberries? I need strawberries!" The plaintive mewl
of her request paired with a pleading look toward Spike clearly
indicated that strawberry wrangling was a task for an aroused vampire.
He took immediate offense.
"I'm not your bloody slave, Slayer," Spike spoke in an annoyed tone. "If
you want more strawberries, then get up off your sweet arse and go buy
them." He wasn't about to let her leave, but if she should happen to
stand up he was ready to bite her bum.
"Too tired," Buffy complained weakly and settled back for a long soak.
Spike chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, pet, a good night's slaughter will
do that to you." It had been a jam-packed evening: a little sightseeing,
some unexpected mayhem of the slaying variety and then some athletic
mayhem of the coital variety. As a result they were pleasantly
exhausted.
"Who would have thought that our trip to Paris would coincide with the
ritual convergence of those sloth demon guys? Oh wait, maybe I should
save my surprise for when I don't come up against a herd of demons while
on vacation." Buffy sighed at the knowledge that despite being one
slayer among many, destiny would probably always pit her against some
kind of outrageously offensive demon horde at the most inopportune
moment. "And why anyone would want to make the Eiffel Tower into a
fountain of phlegm is beyond me."
"It's a genome thing." Spike casually offered some insider demon
information. "All the subphyla of Chaos demons are a pretty gooey lot.
Most can be quite friendly, but the Slaeth? Nothing but a xenophobic
bunch of buggers, if you ask me."
"They were rude, weren't they?"
"Rude? You interrupted their sacred ceremony with a stream of
obscenities. Mouth on ya like a fish wife, I swear." Despite Spike's
tender kiss to the side of her neck that didn't sound like a pleasing
comparison to Buffy. She tilted her head for clarification.
"I thought you liked my mouth."
"Love your mouth, pet. Love it." He kissed her lips for emphasis.
"Well, they deserved it. That was supposed to be our sightseeing smoochy
time like in every chick flick I've ever seen with the perfect couple
silhouetted against a twinkling cityscape with romantic musical
accompaniment, not those burping blobs of-- Ugh. They were gross." Buffy
shivered at the gelatinous recollection.
"Well, I think your protest was duly noted after you killed their high
priest without so much as a how-dee-do."
"And you sliced and diced your way through the rabble." Buffy grinned up
at him. "That really turned me on."
"Really? Seeing me soaked to the skin in demon guts and gravy gets you
hot?"
"You know what I mean. It's how you move. You know, your sexy dance."
"Didn't feel particularly sexy fighting off all them claws and teeth."
"That just makes it sexier because you don't know you're doing it."
"If you say so, love."
"We make a kick ass team, don't we?" Buffy enthused. Spike smirked and
kissed the tip of her nose in agreement. "And the best thing is my
purchases survived the evening phlegm free!"
"Can't say the same for the flowers, pet." The evening was not without
its casualties.
Buffy made a pitiful face. "They were kinda crushed, but I still love
them and anyway, it's the thought that counts. Thank you. They're
beautiful."
"They were beautiful, now they're compost."
"I'm sorry the day turned into a bust." Buffy's shoulders slumped. She
had such romantic plans and wallowing in phosphorescent demon entrails
was most definitely not on the menu.
"I never said that," Spike looked into Buffy's eyes. "This was a great
day: the lights of Paris, a spot of violence and a bloody fantastic
shag? Couldn't have planned it better myself. This was a perfect day."
Buffy perked up at that statement.
"Shags," she corrected.
"Hmm?"
"Plural...as in many?"
"Right, as in many." A sly grin indicated that Spike was now fully
rested and ready for more. Buffy continued talking, oblivious to the
rampant erotic signals he was sending her.
"Dawn is going to love that beret I got for her." Spike paused in
thought.
"Which did you finally decide on, The Eiffel Tower one?"
"Yeah, just like ours."
"Ours? Buffy, you didn't get me that beret, right? You were just
teasing."
"What's wrong with a beret? It will make you look all sophisticated."
"Bugger that. I don't do hats or sophisticated. Why mess with
perfection?" Spike drew his fingers through his damp curls.
"Please. A beret can be totally man-muffinish."
"Do you even hear some of the things you come out with?" Her mangled
slayer vocabulary left a lot to be desired.
"Pepe Le Pew wore a beret." Buffy was not to be deterred.
"And his lady fair couldn't get away from him fast enough."
"But he always caught her in the end."
"Notice how unaffected I am that you just compared me to a cartoon
skunk. There was a time when that would have demanded immediate
retaliation." Spike bit playfully along Buffy's shoulder with blunt
teeth.
"Careful, your manners are showing."
"I am immune to your insults." Buffy felt his grin against her skin.
"Let's get out of this tub before you turn into a prune, hmm?" Spike
reached for a towel. He wrapped it around her torso and held her hand as
she stepped out of the water.
"Spike, if you don't wear your beret, my whole monkey sex with a
Parisian vampire fantasy goes right out the window."
"Nice try. I am not wearing it." Spike wrapped a towel around his waist.
"I can so make you wear it...Pepe." Her eyes flashed an obvious
challenge.
With no warning Spike pounced on Buffy and hauled her out of the
bathroom. He tossed her roughly upon the bed. She rolled off backward
and reached for the bag of berets, freeing one in the process. "You're
gonna look so cute when I'm through with you." Buffy lunged at him from
across the bed. They wrestled over its surface and slid off onto the
floor, only to roll around in a spirited and sensual skirmish, leaving
their towels behind them in a wrinkled heap. Buffy concentrated on
aiming the beret at Spike's head.
"Come on, quit being a baby." With effort Spike managed to pin Buffy's
wrists. The offending item slipped from her grasp. "Please?" Buffy
batted her eyes.
"You are an evil woman, Buffy Summers."
"I had a good teacher...Pretty please? With monkey sex on top?" It was
the pout that did him in. He released her wrists.
"Bloody-- All right. One time." Buffy squeaked with delight and wriggled
the circular hat over Spike's curls. He plastered a look of extreme
boredom on his face.
"Um," Buffy twisted her mouth. "Oh God, that's tea cozy territory. Maybe
off to the side..." She continued to reposition the ill fitting beret.
Nothing worked. It looked like a wilting pancake. Her expression wilted
as well.
"Told you, love. Hats are not my thing." With an annoyed sigh, Buffy
pulled the beret off his head and tossed it aside.
"Okay, I believe you. Hats are definitely out, but hat hair..." Buffy
buried her fingers in his tousled locks. "Mmm...nummy. Kiss me, Monsieur
Le Pew."
"Buffy!"
"What? Pepe is a stone cold stud."
"Don't push it, Slayer." Spike gave a glare of warning and lowered his
mouth to hers. "Might just have to work on your manners for a change."
He nibbled on her lips and slowly deepened their kiss.
"And what's wrong with my manners?" Buffy asked after the kiss subsided.
"Well, you're stubborn."
"Stubborn?"
"And bossy."
"What?"
"Oh yeah. And I got news for you, Buffy. You're NOT the boss of me."
"Oh no?"
"Never. And you're willful too!"
"Are you done?"
"But you've got great potential."
"Potential!? You hit me with 'potential'!?" Buffy tried to scramble out
from under him.
"And I'm glad to know you." Buffy stilled and looked into his quiet
face.
"You are?"
Spike nodded. "And I love you. You know I do."
"Aww...Kiss me, Pepe." Buffy pursed her lips in an exaggerated pucker.
"See? That's stubborn."
"And you love it. Admit it, skunk-boy!"
"And that's definitely on the road to willful." Spike snarled his reply.
"Oh, I'll show you willful."
Buffy gripped Spike's shoulders and flipped them, emerging on top once
again. Spike's lip curled with sinful anticipation as Buffy captured his
neglected erection and held it poised for insertion. "Do we need a
little reminder, Spike?" She slid down over his shaft and started an
easy rhythm. "Criticism and Buffy are unmixy things."
"Bollocks!" Spike flashed Buffy a feral sneer knowing full well how it
would entice her.
"Repeat after me," Buffy's eyes glinted with mischief. "Buffy good."
"Mmm, I'll say," Spike grinned in agreement and started rocking his hips
into hers.
"Say Buffy good."
"Buffy...very...good."
"Kiss ass."
"All in good time, love." Spike slapped his palm soundly against Buffy's
bottom and then squeezed her muscled flesh. Buffy countered with a
familiar intimate clench, much to Spike's delight.
"I know what my bad boy likes...stubborn, bossy, willful...all the good
stuff." She eased her hold on him and continued at a slower pace.
"Yeah."
"Now, if I remember correctly, there's a little Paris inspired activity
that you particularly enjoy...and here we are in Paris..." Buffy blinked
her eyes with coquettish zeal.
"True." A devilish pulse sprang from Spike's eyes.
"I brought a few scarves," Buffy suggested. "That might work okay."
"It'll have to do until I can get us some proper chains."
"Where are you going to find chains?" Spike took advantage of Buffy's
pause to roll them once more.
"This is Paris, Buffy. I can get anything." The corner of his mouth
quirked with mischief. "What do you say I find you a tight little cheer
leader outfit while I'm at it?"
Buffy swallowed heavily. "I was only an alternate, Spike. I couldn't
remember those dumb cheers if my life depended on it."
"No worries, pet. It's not so much the cheers I'm interested in anyway."
His eyebrow arched with erotic precision.
"Oh. OH! Okay. I think I can remember how to shake my pom poms."