My Boyfriend's Back


Written by: Pattyanne
 Author's Website





Summary: This story is set sometime after Graduation. Angel is gone (Yippee!) and Buffy is in her second year of college.
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
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Part One...


Willow glanced up with her best "May I help you?" smile firmly in place when the front door of the Magic Bos swung open.

When she saw who had come in, her smile began to fade. She couldn't have been, or looked, more surprised if the Queen of England had walked in and asked for directions.

"Well, look who's here," Spike said, producing his most charming smile. "My favorite little witch."

He strolled casually across the room, with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his trousers. "How've you been, luv?"

Willow attempted to return his smile. "I've been good," she said, striving for the same nonchalance that he displayed so effortlessly. "Thanks for asking."

As surprised as she was to see him, she couldn't help being intensely aware of the fact that he looked fantastic. Although his basic appearance hadn't changed, and never would, he still looked different.

He had the same platinum blonde hair, sculpted features, and penetrating dark blue eyes, but he seemed to have gotten over his love affair with the color black.

*Well, there's some black, but at least he's not covered from head to toe in it...*

His trousers were beige brushed suede, and clung attractively to his well formed thighs. A cream colored turtleneck lay beneath a silk shirt almost the same color as his eyes, that was buttoned halfway up with the ends tucked neatly into his pants.

His coat, the black duster that defined him so well, was new. The same basic style, but fashioned of buttery soft suede.

He looked, Willow decided frankly, devastating.

Casting around in her mind for something to break the silence, she fell back on inane small talk. "So, where...HOW have you been?"

Spike smiled, watching her play nervously with a lock of her hair. "To answer your first question," he replied, crossing the room to the counter she was standing behind and sitting on it, "I've been all over the world. As to your second question, I've been quite well, thanks."

"Oh! Well...good. That's good. Could I ask another question?" she ventured timidly.

"Why not?" he said indulgently. "I'm feeling generous tonight."

Willow wiped her sweaty palms on the front of her skirt. "Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but why are you here? I mean," she clarified quickly, "why are you in Sunnydale, not...you know...why are you in the Magic Box?"

Spike leveled his perceptive gaze on her, narrowing his eyes. If his intent had been to unnerve her, he succeeded beautifully.

"Not that you have to have a reason or anything. I mean, it's a free country...for YOU too." She cringed inwardly, knowing that she was babbling like an idiot, but unable to stop herself. "And anyway, it's not like you have to tell ME the reason you're here, because like I said...country...free."

Finally running out of steam, she took a deep breath.

Fortunately, her demeanor seemed to amuse him. "Relax, Red," he said soothingly. 'I'm not here to do you any harm, I promise." He chuckled. "No bottles in your face or teeth in your neck."

Willow forced out a weak laugh. "That's...good to know," she stammered. "So, um...you're just passing through?"

"Not exactly," Spike said, shaking his head. "Now enough of the pleasantries. Where's Buffy?" he asked directly.

Willow felt her stomach tighten. "Why?"

He laughed again. "So protective," he commented. "Don't fret, luv. Goldielocks is perfectly safe from the big bad wolf."

"Again...good to know." She swallowed hard. "But I'm really not sure where she is tonight," she added.

Spike looked at her for a nerverackingly long mo- ment. "You wouldn't lie to me...would you, luv?"

Despite the smile on his face, his tone had a hint of a warning in it.

"No!" Willow said, a little too loudly. "I wouldn't do that. I mean, I try to be an honest person and...and lying is wrong, and...well, I've never been very good at it, anyway," she admitted.

Spike met her unwavering gaze for a few more seconds. "You know what?" he said abruptly, sliding off the counter, "I believe you. You're probably not very good at it."

Willow needlessly rearranged items on the counter, neatening what was already perfectly neat to begin with. "So...it's been nice seeing you," she said cheer- fully, "but I was just getting ready to close up when you got here...so...."

Spike ignored her words. "I've already been to her house and there was no one home. She living on campus these days?"

Willow hesitated. "No...she's still living at home, but she's...sort of out tonight."

"Hmm," he nodded. "Patrolling?"

"No." She took a step back from the counter. "Dating."

Spike frowned slightly, his eyes flashing yellow for a brief instant. "You don't say?" he asked quietly. "And who is she doing that with?"

"Oh, with a guy. Just a guy. Some guy."

Spike gave her a look that demanded further infor- mation.

"A guy that...that she has a couple of classes with."

"Give me a name, luv."

She almost made up a name, then thought better of it when she remembered her lack of skill in the art of mendacity. "Parker...somebody. I don't know his last name." She got another inquisitive stare. "I really DON'T," she added defensively.

A few seconds ticked by, stretching her nerves to the screaming point.

"All right," Spike finally said, turning to leave. "Thanks for the help luv."

His hand was on the doorknob when Willow gathered her nerve and spoke up.

"You don't have a right to be made because she's dating, you know. I mean, YOU left HER, remember? Did you think she was gonna sit and wait forever? It's been what...over a year since you took off?"

Spike pulled the door open. "Well, I'm here now," he said, without looking at her. "And I WILL take back what's mine."

He walked out the door, closing it with a loud bang.

Willow counted to ten, then reached for the phone.





Part Two...

Spike stood on the front porch of Buffy's house, thumb pressing firmly down on the doorbell, then rapped on the door with his fist.

"Still not home?" He walked the perimeter of the house, searching for signs of life within, finding nothing but silence.

"Where the hell are you, Slayer?" He checked his watch. Almost midnight. "You'd best get your shapely ass home soon, girl. If I have to come looking for you...."

A car pulled into the driveway, and he moved back into the shadows.

Small and sporty looking, with an obnoxious bright yellow paint job, the sort of car a rich father would buy for a spoiled child, it came to a stop. Music blasted from a top of the line sound system.

Spike watched as the driver turned to face the girl sitting beside him.

*If you value your life, boy, you will NOT touch...*

"Son of a..." he bit out when he saw them begin to exchange kisses. It took every ounce of will power at his command not to drag that boy out of his kiddie car and beat him to death.

A moment later, the passenger side door opened and Buffy stepped out of the car. Spike glared as she leaned down to say goodnight to her date and closed the door.

She looked sensational. Even prettier than he remember- ed, wearing a pair of jeans that looked painted on, and a red silk blouse that clung to her curves. Her hair was longer, a gorgeous mixture of honey and golden brown that reached halfway to her waist. It was thick and shiny, and the memory of it's softness made his fingers itch to play with it.

He waited until she'd unlocked the front door and gone in- side before he left his hiding place. The boy had already backed his car out of the driveway and driven off, music blaring again.

Spike turned the doorknob quietly, but she had locked up. Breaking the lock presented no problem, but he would wait and see if he needed to. He rang the door- bell, smiling when he heard her running down the stairs.

She must have thought that her date had returned for some reason, judging by the expectant smile on her face...a smile that disappeared instantly when she saw who was actually standing there.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "How's my girl?"

Buffy didn't reply with words. Instead, she tried to slam the door, forcing Spike to place his foot in the way to block it.

Grabbing the edge of the door in one hand, he said, "Now, now...is that any way to treat your lover?"

"Maybe not!" she snapped. "But it's definitely the way to treat YOU!" She stopped her attempts to close the door, but stood her ground and blocked him from entering the house.

"What the hell do you want?" she demanded.

"Just you, baby," Spike answered. "Just what belongs to me." He placed his other hand on the door. "If you don't want this door torn off it's hinges, you'd best let me in."

Buffy glared at him. She knew from past experience that Spike didn't make idle threats, and he never gave more than one warning. Since she didn't want to have to ex- plain to her mother where the front door had disappeared to, she opened it all the way and took three steps back.

Spike stepped into the entryway with a smirk that she wanted to slap right off his face.

"Close the door, baby," he said, walking into the living room without a backward glance. "It's getting chilly outside." Shedding his coat, he tossed it across the back of an armchair, then settled himself on the sofa, smiling at her.

Wishing that she'd had the presence of mind to have had Willow revoke his visiting privileges after he'd left, Buffy slammed the door so hard that the living room window rattled in its frame.

Stomping into the living room, she folded her arms across her chest. "Now will you tell me why you're here?"

"I've missed you, sweetheart," he said, patting the sofa cushion beside him in a clear invitation. "Come here and give me a kiss hello."

She ignored the gesture, choosing to sit in a chair against the opposite wall, sending an equally clear message by putting as much distance between them as she could, without actually leaving the room.

"I'll pass," she said curtly, turning down his offer.

To her surprise, Spike merely shrugged. "Fine. But you're only depriving yourself. I mean," he added, winking at her, "kissing is one of the things we do best, remember?"

Buffy shifted nervously in her chair. Of course she re- membered. This wasn't the type of guy you'd forget.

"Actually, I don't," she lied, hoping he'd buy it.

He didn't. "Oh, please," he scoffed. "You can't lie to me. Why do you even bother trying?"

Leaning back against the sofa, he stretched his legs out and laced his fingers together on his abdomen, mere inches from his belt buckle.

"You know damn well that you remember the times we'd make out for hours, right here on this sofa. I'd kiss you so long and hard that your pretty little mouth would be all swollen and tender."

Buffy forced herself not to call up the memory, digging her nails into the padded arms of her chair. "Just cut it out and tell me why you're here!"

The amusement abruptly left his face, and his dark eyes stared intently into hers, nailing her to the back of her chair like a butterfly on a hat pin. "Who the hell were you out with tonight?"

Her entire body tensed. "How is that any of YOUR business?" she challenged, struggling for a bravado that she didn't really feel.

"Indulge me," he said. "I'd like to know the name of the man stupid enough to put his hands on MY girl." His eyes moved up and down her body with a caressing gaze. "Call me old fashioned."

"I'll call you something, all right," she said hotly. "But THAT won't be it."

His smile came back. "My kitten has sharpened her claws."

"Yeah. She's sharpened her stakes, too." Buffy's eyes flashed with angry fire. "You're sporting serious brass, show- ing up here after all this time, interrogating me about who I'm dating..."

"Who you WERE dating," Spike corrected. "Past tense."

Buffy countered with her "Just who the hell do you think you are?" look. "Because YOU day so?"

"Now you're getting it," he said approvingly. "Because I say so. And, because you wouldn't want the boy to come down with a nasty case of death, would you?"

Her eyes skittered away from his, jumping nervously from one object in the room to another. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked softly.

Spike leaned forward. "Because you...look at me, Buffy...you are mine." His voice suddenly dropped into a lower, more threatening register. "You've ALWAYS been mine, and you bloody always WILL be!"

Buffy jumped to her feet. She turned to run from the room, but he'd been expecting this and was on her before she got more than a few steps away.

Grabbing her right bicep, he yanked her to a stop and slid his free arm around her waist, hauling her roughly against him.

As strong as she was, she'd never had any real ability to resist him. The feel of his body against hers had always depleted her strength, making her weak in the knees, and this embrace was no exception.

Spike's arm felt like a steel bar that she couldn't dis- lodge. "LET GO OF ME!"

"Make me," he laughed, her struggles only exciting him more. Releasing his hold on her arm, he raised his hand to her face and held it firmly as he lowered his head and captured her mouth beneath his.

Buffy splayed her hands on his chest and tried to shove him away. He responded by deepning the kiss, exploring her mouth with passionate intensity.

She could feel her resolve melting like butter on a hot griddle, as his kiss brought back memories of past embraces, of moist, feverish kisses they'd shared back when it was all new...when they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Spike had been right when he'd said that kissing was one of their best events. No mere meeting of lips, their kisses had been a sexual act unto themselves, deep, wet, and penetrating.

Buffy had been on the receiving end of many kisses. Some had been casual, some had been intensely intimate, most had been pleasureable.

But the man holding her now had absolutely no equal. He kissed like there was no tomorrow.

Pressing himself against her, his hands would move restlessly over her body, his fingers tangling in her hair as he whispered in her ear between kisses, telling her how beautiful she was, how badly he wanted her.

*The way he's doing now....God help me....*

She tried not to fall for it, not to respond, calling to the forefront of her mind all the hurt he'd inflicted on her when he'd left...all the anger, all the sadness, and all the tears she'd cried.

The ache in her heart had taken months to become even bearable, and she'd only just begun to tentatively move through it by accepting an invitation to a party where she'd connected with Parker Abrams, one of the students in her psych class.

They'd spent the entire evening talking only with each other, and he'd called the following morning to ask her to dinner, and they'd been out twice since then.

Attractive and charming, he'd shown her a good time, and she'd looked forward to seeing him again.

But standing here now, being kissed by a vampire that had broken her heart, she was having trouble remember- ing what Parker even looked like.

Spike knew her so well, knew exactly how to please her, a skill he'd perfected over long, lingering hours alone together.

She could hear bells pealing in her head, and it took her a few seconds to realize that it was the telephone ringing, not her ears.

When the sound finally penetrated the haze of pleasure she was swimming in, Buffy wedged her hands be- teen her body and Spike's, managing to push him a few inches away. "Let go," she panted.

"No," he replied, no humor in his voice. "It's been too long since I've held you."

He shouldn't have reminded her.

"Well, whose fault is THAT?" she snapped. "Let GO!"

Finally breaking away, she practically ran for the phone. Pick- ing up the receiver, she glared at him.

"Hello...Oh, hi...Yeah, I know...He's here...I don't know...No, I didn't check the machine...That's all right...It probably wouldn't have made any difference...No, I'm fine...I can't talk right now...Sure...I'll call you tomorrow...Mm-hmm...Bye."

She hung up the phone and punched the 'replay' button on the answering machine. Willow's voice was high pitched and nervous.

"Buffy?...It's Willow...If you're home, pick up...Hello?...Okay, I just wanted to let you know that Spike was here tonight at the shop...He's back in town and he came her looking for you. I thought I should warn you cause I sort of told him that you had a date tonight and he seems...put out about it. I think he was heading to your place after he left here, so...just call me, okay?"

Sighing, Buffy erased the message.

"Willow." Spike sounded amused. "So cute...and such a master at the art of understatement."

Buffy watched him warily as he walked towards her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he replied, reaching for the phone and taking if off the hook, "that I wasn't 'put out' about you having a date with Joe College." He stared into her eyes, wanting to be sure she understood. "I was angrier than you ever want to see me, little girl, and quite ready to snap his bloody neck for even THINKING about touching you."

"But, why?" Buffy demanded, stamping one foot like a spoiled child. "Why the hell do you care who touches me?" She ducked away from the hands that were reaching for her. "YOU left ME, remember?"

Spike was right on her heels as she returned to the living room. "But I came back."

"Oh, yeah! A year later! Do you think you deserve some sort of extra credit for that?" Her voice was laced with sar- casm. "What are you expecting me to say? Gee, Spike, I'm SO glad you're back. Don't worry about deserting me a year ago, cause you're here now so all is forgiven, and we'll just pick up right where we left off, take me I'm yours!"

"Buffy..." His voice held a mild warning, but she was too worked up to care.

"Don't!" she lashed out. "Don't even TRY and defend yourself, because if you think that I'll take any old crap you care to dish out, then you have got another think coming!"

Her voice rose in volume as she got angrier.

"This," she continued recklessly, "is MY life. You gave up your right to have a say in it when you got in your car and drove away."

Afraid that she was going to start crying, Buffy paused to collect herself.

The memory was as painfully sharp and clear as it had been on the day it happened, the day her happiness had been brutally torn away by a man who'd claimed to love her.

They had been together ever since Spike had left Drusilla in South America, and returned to Sunnydale to stake his claim on the slayer. For over a year, Buffy had been more content than she'd ever been.

So, she hadn't seen it coming. One day she'd woken up happy, and had gone to bed in tears.

He had come home that night displaying all the symptoms of a foul mood...increased profanity, the inability to sit still, and complete lack of interest in physical contact with her.

She hadn't been too concerned at first. She was used to his mercurial moods, and they never lasted long. As the evening wore on, she had done everything she could to cajole him out of his funk.

She had used all the well practiced tricks at her dis- posal, from trying to make him laugh at her ineptitude at telling jokes, to seductive words that assured him she knew exactly how to cheer him up, and that if he would just come upstairs, she'd be happy to demonstrate.

Nothing had worked, and she'd become more and more nervous as she'd realized that this was no mere mood swing, and wondered if something she had done was the cause of his ill humor.

When she'd finally pried it out of him, the things he'd said had sent her into a tailspin.

He had accused her of trying to domesticate him, making him her pet vampire by telling him not to hunt and feed off people, and forcing him to exist on blood purchased at a meat processing plant.

She was making him soft, he had told her, an object of derision in the demon world.

Slayer whipped, they called him. A frigging lap dog. She was trying to turn him into the sort of vampire that Angel had become and he fucking HATED Angel.

He was being laughed at by vamps that had always feared him, and it was HER fault!

Although nearly sick with pain at the thought of losing him, Buffy hadn't been able to defend herself against his charges. There could be no compromise on the issue. She was the slayer, pure and simple. She couldn't very well slay other vampires who fed off people, and leave HIM alone to do as he pleased.

Hours of asking him...begging him...to leave things as they had been, were of no avail. He had left her that night, left without indicating whether or not he would ever return.

After watching the red glow of his car's tail lights disappear, she had run upstairs and thrown herself down on her bed, crying harder than she'd ever done before.

All night she had wept, and when morning finally came, she'd been wrung dry of tears.

Time passed, and somewhere along the way, her sadness had turned into anger.

Standing here face to face with her errant lover, Buffy seized on that anger, using it to guide her and to strengthen her convictions.

Spike narrowed his eyes, a gesture that...in her agitation...she didn't immediately pick up on.

"Are you finished," he asked, a little too politely.

Buffy plowed heedlessly ahead, ignoring...or missing...another clear warning.

"I will date whoever I choose to date! And I will decide who puts his hands on me, not..."

Her little speech was halted when Spike slapped his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head, effectively caging her in.

Buffy inhaled sharply with surprise. She'd forgotten how fast he could move when he chose to.

"The only man who is going to put his hands, or anything else on you, is me." His voice and his _expression were deadly serious. "I'll make sure of it, even if I have to lock you in your room 24/7."

After a few seconds, his demeanor suddenly changed. He smiled down at her, that go-to-hell sexy smile that always turned her on.

"Don't worry, baby," he said, leaning closer until their lips nearly touched. "I'll make sure you enjoy every moment of your captivity."





Part Three.....


Spike pushed Buffy against the wall, pin- ning her with his body pressed intimately against hers. Bending his head, he nuzzled the satin of her cheek with airy kisses.

"Baby," he whispered in her ear, "Don't you remember how good it was...the times we'd make love for hours and hours."

"Stop it," she said, her voice so weak and breathy that even SHE didn't take herself seriously. "I...I don't want..."

"Yes, you do," he insisted, biting gently on her ear lobe. "You want me just as badly as I want you. We can't hide that from each other. We never could."

Buffy closed her eyes and turned her face away. "No, you're wrong..."

Spike just smiled, amused at her efforts to make him think she was indifferent to his touch.

"I'm not wrong," he said. Cupping her face in his hands, he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "Right from the beginning, from the second I saw you, I knew I had to have you...that you were for me." His lips strayed across the side of her face. "You're so beautiful, baby," he murmured. "My beautiful little slayer...that's what you are."

Her resistance was fading fast, but she fought to hold on to it. "Stop...I mean it..."

"Shh," he scolded her. "Don't talk. Just feel how much I want you...and your body will tell you what it wants...what it needs..."

Before she could say anything more, he kissed her, projecting everything he felt for her...the love, and the lust, and the need...into his touch.

Buffy knew then that she was lost. No matter what he may have been wrong about, he was right about this. Their passion for each other was a constant blaze, burning through them like an out of control forest fire.

Her hands slid up the front of his shirt, fingers grasping the material as she pulled him even closer. Her head tilted back and she made a soft, incomprehensible sound as her lips parted beneath his.

"That's right," he said softly. "That's my girl. God, I love those little sounds you make when you're hot for me."

"I hate you," she whimpered.

"Mmm...hate me some more."

Spike moved his hands down her back, tug- ging on the fabric of her blouse until it separated from her jeans. Slipping his hands beneath it, he caressed the smooth skin of her back.

With their mouths still joined, Buffy's arms crept up around his neck. He picked her up and carried her to the sofa, sitting down with her in his lap.

Tilting her back over his arm, he moved his mouth down the vulnerable flesh of her throat, his tongue touching the faint scar that marked her as his.

"I'd almost forgotten how lovely you are," he said. "How warm and soft...oh, and you smell so damn good."

He lifted one hand and stroked her hair, taking a handful of it and wrapping it around his fist.

"Your hair is longer, too." He rubbed his cheek against it. "So silky and soft...I love it. Don't ever cut it, okay? Will you do that for me, baby?"

Buffy nodded. "If you want me to. Spike...."

"What, bright eyes?"

"It's been so long." Her voice was soft and im- ploring. "Make love to me."

"I will." He smiled, pulling back to look into her eyes. "You're mine, Buffy," he said firmly. You belong to me. Say it."

"Spike...."

"Say it!" he repeated, more urgently. "Say that you're mine!"

"I am," she whispered fiercely. "I'm yours. You know it."

Sitting up straight, he jerked her closer. "Did you let that boy touch you like this?"

Buffy swallowed hard. "Like...like this?"

Spike kissed her throat, lingering in the soft hollow at it's base. "Did he touch your bare skin...did he kiss it?"

She shook her head. "No...we only went out twice."

He laughed harshly. "So what?" he scoffed. "I wanted you the minute I saw you. I would have tried."

Buffy smiled, stroking his cheek. "Well, you're rash and impulsive."

"No," he corrected her. "I just know what I want." His tongue traced the rim of her ear. "And if I thought that he had touched you...that ANY other man had touched you, seen you like this..."

"Stop," Buffy said, forcing him to look at her. "He didn't. No one else has. There's only you." She kissed him, long and hard. "Now, take me upstairs!"

Delighted at her demanding tone, he stood up, bouncing her in his arms and laughing when she yelped.

"I'll take you upstairs," he said. "And downstairs...and ON the stairs."

He carried her across the room and up the stair- case, still listing all the places he would ' take ' her.

"On the dining room table...the carpet in front of the fireplace...the back porch swing...the laundry room...."

"The LAUNDRY room?"

"In the moonlight, out by the rosebushes..."

"Ouch!"





Part Four...


Spike set her on her feet next to the bed. He placed his hands on her waist and spun her until she was facing away from him, then reached for the hem of her shirt and began to tug it up and over her head.

Her skin was lightly tanned, with a faint blush of color. It's texture and scent, com- bined with it's delicious living warmth, made him even harder than he already was.

Gathering her hair, he laid it to one side and kissed the curve of her shoulder, drawing a wet line with his tongue. He could see the goosebumps rise on the back of her neck as his hands slid down her arms.

Slowly drawing out the motions, he popped open the snap of her jeans, then moved the zipper down.

She reached for the waistband, trying to push her pants down faster,but he stopped her with a light slap on her hands. "Ah, ah, ah...good things come to patient little girls."

Lowering her hands, she released a sound that let him know how she felt about being patient at this particular moment.

He ignored it. "First things first," he said teasingly. He fingered the lace straps of her bra. "This is pretty. Red is definitely your color, darling."

She tilted her head back to look at him. "Wait until you see my panties," she said, licking her lips.

His lust ratcheted up another notch. "I'll get there," he said, as his hands moved around front to find the clasp of her bra. "This is almost too pretty to take off."

Buffy was about to protest when she felt him twist the clasp and pull the straps down her arms.

Filling his hands with her lush curves, he grinned at her. "I said 'almost'."

Her eyes drifted closed as he began to fondle her in the familiar ways that she'd missed so much. Spike knew every inch of her body, all the ways she liked to be touched and teased.

He squeezed her breasts gently, cup- ping them from beneath and lifting them slightly as his thumbs swept back and forth over the tight peaks.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked needlessly when he heard her breathing escalate.

Buffy nodded, arching her back and forcing herself more fully into his waiting hands. "I love that...and you know it."

He chuckled. "I know...but you like it when I ask, too."

This was true. Bedroom talk drove her crazy, and Spike was fluent in it.

"They're so warm and soft...except here." His fingertips touched her nipples. "Here, they're very firm." He turned her in his arms, smiling at her. "Can I kiss them?"

Buffy shrugged, as though it didn't matter one way or the other. "I suppose so," she said, knowing there was no way in hell she was going to let him go anywhere until he did.

Bending his head, he placed a gentle kiss on each rose colored tip, parting his lips slightly.

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his cheek against her. "I want to taste them, too." He extended his tongue and drew damp circles on her skin.

Buffy raised her hands and twined her fingers in his hair, guiding his mouth where she wanted it to go.

He kissed and licked every inch of both her breasts. Only when he sensed her impatience getting ready to spill over did he open his mouth and take her in. He suckled, alternating the pressure from light and barely there, to hungry and hard.

Her head dropped back, and she stared sight- lessly at the ceiling, wondering how she had managed to exist for over a year without this man.

*I'm really gonna punish him for that...later.*

He pulled away suddenly, startling her out of the half swoon she was falling into. Too impatient to work the buttons, he simply pulled his shirt open, letting them pop off and scatter around the room.

Buffy's eyes moved down as he yanked his sweater off and tossed it to one side. Those pants he had on didn't hide anything, announcing quite clearly that this was a fully aroused man.

Spike saw where she was looking and pushed his hips forward a little, showing off for her as he unbuckled his belt.

As he shoved the tight material down, Buffy had to smile, remembering his aversion to undergarments of any kind.

"What's funny, honey?" he asked, as he toed off his boots.

"Absolutely nothing," she replied, touching her upper lip with the tip of her tongue.

Spike kicked his trousers off and reached for her. "Come here, then," he demanded, sliding his arm around her waist. "Baby needs tending to."

Baby couldn't take her eyes off the hard length extending straight out from his body. It was so blatantly male, so totally sexual, that she felt her own body react, preparing itself for what was about to happen.

Tightening his arm around her, Spike lifted her clear off her feet and walked her back- wards until she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her legs.

He let go of her then, dropping her down on the mattress, making her laugh with the pure happiness of knowing that her man was home, that her world would soon be set right.

Kneeling in front of her, Spike slipped her sandals off and kissed the instep of each little foot, then tugged the tight denim down her thighs, tossing the jeans to one side.

The promised treat of seeing her under- pants was all she'd implied it would be, a confection of scarlet lace, with tiny satin ribbons holding them closed on her hips.

After looking his fill, he met her gaze with his. "I'm going to buy you more of those," he vowed.

Lowering his head, he kissed the inside of her thighs, stopping her again when she reached to undo her panties.

"Don't you dare," he said, pushing her hands away. "No one else touches."

"Not even me?" Buffy laughed.

"Not even you." He took hold of the ribbons and pulled until they separated, showing him her most private place.

Lifting the scrap of red fabric to his face, he took in the scent that lingered on it, smiling when he felt their dampness.

"Mmm...I'd know that scent anywhere. You could be in a room with a hundred other women and I could find you with my eyes closed."

His words brought a fresh rush of moisture be- tween her legs. The thought of him doing that, of picking up her scent and hunting her down, ignoring any other woman who approached him, snarling at any man who stood in his way, was incredibly erotic. It reminded her that, beyond the trappings of humanity and restraints of civilization, they were still animals with primitive instincts.

Buffy's eyes opened wide when she felt his hands on her knees, urging her to part them wider for him.

His mouth followed the trail of his fingers as they mapped familiar territory up her inner thighs, until he reached the neatly trimmed curls that guarded the entrance to his little piece of heaven.

As he kissed and nuzzled her, he reached for her hand and held it tightly, their fingers lacing together.

When she let out a soft cry and lifted her hips, he sat up, bringing her hand down to his steel hard erection. She wrapped her little fingers around him and squeezed, smooth- ing with her thumb the drop of semen that leaked out.

With a harsh grunt, he pushed her hand away and crouched between her thighs.

"I've gotta be in you now, baby," he rasped. "Can't wait...gotta feel you take me in...hold me tight...tell me I'm home..."

Her eyes were soft with emotion. "Come inside, love," she said, holding out her arms. "You're home...you finally came home."

Spike fell into her embrace, stretching his body out on top of hers, supporting his weight on his forearms. He found her mouth with his, plundering it with his tongue, as he moved one hand down between them and positioned himself for penetration.

Her heat and wetness nearly undid him, but he managed to retain control and began to push forward with his hips, easing in a little at a time.

Buffy tried not to flinch. Her body had done all it could to ready itself for his invasion of it, but it had still been over a year, and she felt almost virginally tight.

A fact which her lover was enjoying immensely.

"Buffy...oh, yes...so tight...so sweet...ah, my little girl...such a little girl..."

Gradually, her body adjusted, allowing her to relax as he began to thrust, slowly at first, then faster...harder...until they were both mindlessly caught up in the rythmn of love and lust.

It didn't last...it couldn't. They had been too long apart. Later, there would time to take it slow, to linger over it.

"Baby..." Spike said, "open your eyes...that's my girl...keep them open, look at me...when you come..."

"Spike..." she whined. "Oh...I...I need to..."

"I know what you need, baby," he said, staring into her grass green eyes. "I'm gonna help you do it...are you close...oh, yeah, you are...I can tell...do it for me, baby...come hard...scream my name...tell the world that I'm making you come...now, baby...now...."

Planting her feet flat on the bed, Buffy raised her hips one final time....and screamed his name...





Part Five....
 


"Are you all right, baby face?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No."

"Yes, I did."

Buffy opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Just a little at first...cause it's been so long."

Spike sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

She snuggled closer. "S'all right," she assured him, smiling sweetly. "I'm fine."

He threaded his fingers into her hair. "Some-times I forget what a little thing you are."

Buffy's smile turned sassy. "Not to mention what a 'big' thing YOU are."

"That's my clever girl."  He laughed and gave her a squeeze. "God, I missed you."

She was silent for a long moment, then said, "Does that mean you're going to stay with me?"

"Sweetheart,"  He hesitated a moment. "I want to..."

Buffy immediately shook her head and moved away from him, not wanting to hear what she feared was about to come out of his mouth.

"Never mind," she said quickly, swinging her legs out of bed.

Spike grabbed her hand. "Where are you going?"

"I have to put the phone back on the hook," she explained, locating her robe and slipping it on. "In case my mother calls."

"Where is she?"

"She's visiting some friends in New York."

Without another word, she turned and left the room.

Spike settled back against the pillows and waited, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

After several minutes went by without her returning, he climbed out of bed and pulled on his trousers, leaving them unfastened.

He found her in the kitchen, staring out the window, holding a glass of milk in her hand.

She turned when he came in. "Want some?" she offered, holding out the glass.

"No, thanks," he answered, crossing the room at a leisurely pace. "You drink it all up, baby. I want my girl healthy and happy."

Buffy shrugged. "Uh-huh," she muttered under her breath.

Ignoring her belligerant tone, Spike leaned back against the counter, then kissed her cheek.  "The milk will help keep you healthy, and I'll keep you happy," he said, flashing a grin that could only be described as lecherous.
 
She drained the glass, then stared at him in utter silence.

Spike trailed one finger across her upper lip, cleaning off the milk that was clinging to it.

"You'll keep me happy?" she asked, reaching for a napkin and wiping her face. "Well, for as long as you're HERE anyway."

"Buffy..."

"Hey, it's all right," she interrupted. "I understand. You gotta be free. A vampire can't tie himself down, especially with a slayer. I mean...how would it look?"

Spike frowned "How would it LOOK?"

Buffy rinsed the glass and left it on the counter, then turned to meet his eyes.

"Listen,  you don't need to worry about me," she informed him. "I'll see you whenever you decide to breeze through town and in the meantime...well, I'm sure Parker will call again."

It was of the worst things she could have said,  but it was out of her mouth now, and she couldn't call it back

Spike's eyes darkened ominously. "You know if I thought for one second that you really meant that...I'd kill him."  He smiled dangerously. "Surely you don't want to be responsible for the boy's death?"

Buffy held his gaze boldly for a moment, then glanced away. "No.  No, I don't."

"That's my good little girl," he said, pinch-her cheek. "Now, tell me...do you like diamonds?"

His question was so out of the blue that Buffy wasn't sure she had heard him properly.  "Excuse me?"

"Diamonds," he said again. "Do you like them?"

"Well...I guess I...I mean...everybody likes...huh?"

Spike pulled a small black velvet bag from his front pocket, opened it, and extracted a ring...a thin gold band with channel set diamonds all the way around.

"I wasn't sure if you did," he mused, taking her left hand and sliding the ring onto her third finger.

Buffy stared at it. "What's THAT?"

"It's called a ring, darling. Now, some girls," he said, reaching back into the bag, "prefer sapphires." 

He placed another ring on her finger, this one banded with deep blue gems.

"And some girls prefer rubies." He added another ring. "While some fancy emeralds."

After placing the last ring on her finger,  he kissed her hand. "I wasn't sure what you'd like best, so I bought all of them."

Buffy kept her eyes on the stack of rings nestled on her finger.  The stones glittered in the overhead light, making rainbow prisms dance.

Spike grinned. "Now, aren't you sorry you said all those mean things?"

She finally found her voice, and looked up at him. "But...why?"

"I told you, babyface...you belong to me and I want every man you  meet to know that you're taken."

"Oh."  she replied lamely.

"What's wrong?  Don't you like them?"

"Uh...yes! " she nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course I like them...they're beautiful,  but...what do they mean?"

"What does it usually mean when a man puts a ring on a woman's finger?"

Buffy wasn't convinced. "I know what it USUALLY means.  I just don't know what YOU mean."

Spike wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "All right, I'll try and keep this simple. I'M back...and YOU are going to marry me."  He shrugged. "That's about it."

Just when she'd thought she couldn't be more surprised.  "You're asking me if I'll MARRY you?!!"

"No, I'm TELLING you that you'll marry me."

Buffy looked at the rings, then at him. "Have you been drinking?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not a drop," he assured her. "I'm completely sober and sound of mind." He  grinned impishly. "Well...as sound as I ever
am."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Spike overlooked her doubtful tone. "You choose a date...make it soon...and I'll make all the arrangements," he said. "I know that it won't be strictly legal in your world, but it WILL be binding...and permanent."

He turned her in his arms, and cupped her chin in one hand, lifting her face so she could see he was serious.

"This is it for you, babyface. From now on, it's
you and me...and God help ANYONE who
tries to come between us."

As his words began to sink in, Buffy began
to smile.

He wanted to marry her. To commit himself
in a way he'd not done with anyone else.  Even
Drusilla, his lover for more than a century, hadn't
gone through any form of marriage with him.

Buffy despised Drusilla.  Even leaving out the fact that she was a slayer and Drusilla was a vampire, she harbored an intense personal dislike for Spike's ex as well, though it had taken her some time to pinpoint the problem.

At one time, she'd believed that the reason lay in the fac that Angel returned to Drusilla after he'd lost his soul.

But when she forced herself to be brutally honest, she couldn't really claim simple jealously since her antipathy for the female vampire had started long before the return of Angelus.

It wasn't until Angel had left town, and Spike showed up without his 'Queen of the Damned crazies' trailing along behind him, that Buffy begun to get a clear fix on why she hated Drusilla so venomously.

Her feelings had nothing to do with Angel...and everything to do with Spike.

The day he'd arrived back in Sunnydale he had gone looking for her, explaining what had occured between him and Dru in South America.

He'd then begun an aggressive campaign of  pursuit, not caring that she was a slayer, his mortal enemy.

In a surprisngly short period of time, Spike had dismantled every one of her defences.

Brick by brick, he pulled down the wall between them, forcing her to admit to the  physical attraction that had started on the
night they'd clapped eyes on each other for the first time.

From there it had been one short step into
his bed.

At that point, after becoming his lover, Buffy's dislike of Drusilla  had blossomed into full blown jealous hatred.

She'd made herself a promise that if Dru was ever crazy enough to return to Sunnydale...which was a pretty safe bet...she'd
be dust before the sun went down.

An uneasy mixture of envy and uncertainty dogged the early days of her relationship with Spike.

Envy of Drusilla's natural seductiveness, something she could turn on and off like a faucet, of her experience, and of the kind of talent in bed that had kept Spike's interest for so long.

That...coupled with her lack of confidence in her own practically virginal charms...had worried her for a short time.

It had pleased her to no end, and improved her outlook immensely, when she discovered that Spike hated Angel just as bitterly as Buffy hated Drusilla.

He hadn't been shy about telling her that his animosity hadn't been rooted in the complex dynamic that the three vampires had shared, but in the simple fact that he despised the idea of Angel even TOUCHING Buffy...let alone taking her virginity.

She knew that Spike would be perfectly willing and pleased to put an end to Angel in the most painful way he could devise, vampire code of ethics be damned.

He'd warned her repeatedly to make sure that Angel stayed as far away from Sunny- dale...and from Buffy...as he could go.

Determined to expunge any trace of her first lover from her mind and heart, Spike had gone so far as to take the silver clad- dagh ring that Angel had given her. Driving her to the beach, he'd made her watch as he flung the ring into the sea.

In her head, Buffy had known that his possesiveness should have alarmed her, but it hadn't. She'd never experienced such heated behavior from a male before, and it had excited...and aroused her.

Angel had loved her...and made love to her...gently. His love was tender, calm and protected.

Spike's love, although just as protective, was reckless and wild, and something primitively female in her responded to it with a wildness of her own.

He had never hurt her, but he was a strong and demanding lover who thought nothing of approaching her any time of the day or night, picking her up in his arms, and carrying her off to bed.

Knowing that she provoked such powerful feelings in him made her blood run hot. Stand- ing beneath the black velvet sky that night, watching the muscle of his bicep work as he clenched his fist around Angel's ring, had called forth her need for what he could do to her.

They'd ended the evening by making urgent love at the end of the pier.

Time had done nothing to dull their jealousy for each other. If anything, it got sharper.

Fearing their reactions, Buffy had asked her lover to keep their relationship private, a secret from her friends.

Spike had shrugged his shoulders and gone along with it, not caring whether they knew or not.

His laissez-faire had continued until Buffy's friends began trying to fix her up with other men in a search for boyfriend material.

THAT had put the brakes on his indifference, bringing it to a screeching halt.

He had then forced her to inform everyone of her non-available status, telling her that if SHE didn't, then HE most definitely would, and he wouldn't be particularly delicate about it, either.

Although they'd been horrified at first, they had respected her decision as she'd explained that in matters of the heart, she had to follow her own happiness.

Seeing that nothing they could say would change her mind, they had accepted the situation as well as they could, and had been kind enough not to say "I told you so" when the predicted blow up occured.

*What are they gonna say about THIS?*

"What are you thinking about, baby?"

Spike's voice brought Buffy back from her reflective state.

She smiled slowly. "Is this real?"

He smiled back. "This is as real as it gets, sweetness," he said, bending to kiss her.

Buffy needed more, and she ducked away.

"You'll stay with me?" she asked. "Even though I'm the slayer? No matter what your vampire pals think?"

"Since when do I care about someone else's opinions?"

She gave him a look. "You cared about it a year ago."

Spike had the grace to look slightly guilty.

"That's one for you, luv," he said, acknowled- ging the truth of her words.

Putting an end to the conversation, he pic- ked her up and slung her over his shoulder.

"Right, then," He gave her a light swat on the rear. "I suppose you want a big wedding, don't you? All the trimmings?"

Laughing, Buffy placed her hands on his back and lifted herself up a bit. "Those are really expensive."

"Not to worry," he said, carrying her out of the kitchen. "Money's not a problem."

"How come?"

"I'll explain it to you later," he promised, climbing the stairs. "Right now...I've got something else in mind."

"Big surprise."

Spike tossed her on the bed, discarding his pants. "Brace yourself," he warned her. "This is gonna be a rough ride."

She grinned as he crawled up her body.

"I'm the slayer...and I can take the rough- est ride you've got," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He paused. "In case I haven't said it yet..I love you."

"Don't just tell me...show me!"


***** ***** ***** *****


The next morning...

Willow unlocked the door to the Magic Box, wishing once again that Giles would have enough of the warm weather in Mexico and come home to mind his own store.

Anya hated getting up early, and refused to show up until 9:00 on the dot.

Sipping a cup of coffee she'd picked up at Starbucks, she noticed the red light of the answering machine flickering, and thumbed the 'play' button.

"Hi, Wil...it's me...I 'm just calling to let you know that everything's fine. Ac- tually it's more than fine. You ready? I'M ENGAGED!! He came back to marry me! Wait until you see my ring! I mean my rings! Call me later, okay, but...don't scold me cause I'm so happy and I want everyone else to be happy, too. Um...gotta go now, so we'll talk later."

Willow listened, smiling at Buffy's effer- vescent babbling, then reached for the phone.

"Anya, it's Willow...I know you're not coming until 9:00...Is Xander around anywhere?...Good morning...are you sitting down?...Yeah, you probably should...Try to contain your enthusiasm but Spike is back...Last night...He came to the shop and then went to find Buffy...It doesn't matter anymore..Be- cause things have changed...They're getting married and...What was that noise?...Xander...Are you still...Yeah, I'M here...What happened to...Of, for crying out loud...Well, dump some cold water on him and wake him up..I'm coming over and I'll explain it when I get there...."

TBC...


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