Slaying Dragons



Written by: Pattyanne
Author's Website

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Summary: Buffy and Spike are together in what would be season six. It's kind of a silly story, but I was in kind of a silly mood when I wrote it...
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel (The Series) and all of it's characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
Feedback: Yes, Please

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Part One....

The night air was sharp and clear. The mild autumn weather that Sunnydale had been enjoying had finally begun to surrender to winter's chillier bite.

Unbothered by the cold, Spike strode through the park at a fast pace.

He was late. He'd promised Buffy that he'd come and walk her home when she got off work, but he'd gotten sidelined helping Dawn study for an exam, and had lost track of the time.

Knowing that the slayer wouldn't have the patience to sit and wait, he'd sent Dawn to bed and headed for the park she usually cut through on her way home, hoping to at least meet her halfway.

Picturing that knock out smile she always gave him, he began to walk a little faster, inwardly laughing at his eagerness to see her.

How the hell had this happened? Why was William the Bloody, one of the most feared vampires to ever crawl from a grave, behaving like a lovesick teenager?

He'd been asking himself this question for more than two years, and the answer was always the same...because of her.

A five foot nothing, ninety pound bundle of trouble had completely stolen his heart, and had done it so effortlessly that he hadn't realized it until it was gone.

No...stolen was the wrong word for it. He had pretty much given it to her on a gold plate, all tied up with a nice red ribbon.

Not that she'd wanted it..not at first, any- way. It was almost funny how much she HADN'T wanted it, how hard she'd thrown it back in his face.

On the rare occasions when he felt contem- plative, he would think back over their tur- bulent past, embarrassed at how idiotically he had behaved after he'd fallen in love with the slayer.

Like a lost puppy, he'd been, following her around and begging her to keep him. Watching her everywhere she went, searching through her things for something with her scent on it, forcing his company on her when she clearly didn't want it.

Christ, he'd been pathetic.

But all those things put together didn't even begin to compare with the stupidest mistake he'd ever made...having a walking, talking copy of her built out of plastic and wire and computer bits.

That little stunt had been so spectacularly ill conceived that, even now, he tried to make excuses for it.

He'd been desperate, driven close to the extreme of running out into the noonday sun, ready to do anything to stop the con- stant, relentless ache in his heart that wouldn't let him sleep.

The robot hadn't been perfect. Visually, she was a mirror image of Buffy. Same face, same hair, same voice.

Same luscious body...

Sweet natured and eager to please, she had satisfied every request...which, of course, she'd been programmed to do.

He knew now that, sooner or later, the constant worship the robot had ladled on with a spoon would have gotten on his nerves.

A good portion of his attraction to Buffy had been the "forbidden fruit" factor, the challenge she'd represented.

The faster she'd run...the more he'd enjoyed the chase.

Pursuing an unwilling woman was new for him. Drusilla had been a lot of things, but unwilling wasn't one of them.

Dru had always been willing and ready. He had lost his innocence to her in more ways than one, and she had taught him things that his repressed, virginal self could never have dreamed of.

Over the past hundred and change years, he had used that knowledge to seduce women, and they'd always come willingly to his bed.

It was a source of pride for him that he'd never had to resort to raping a woman when he'd wanted her.

KILLING them, yes. RAPING them, no.

The slayer had been the first woman since he'd been turned to reject him so completely, and that rejection had whetted his appetite for her and aroused his lust for the pursuit.

As always, for him, the thing he could not have became the only thing he wanted.

Physically, he'd wanted her from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. Watching her dance and fight had excited him nearly to the point of just picking her up and carrying her off to his bed.

But, after he'd fallen in love with her, that wanting had taken on a life of it's own, sinking it's roots so deeply into his heart that he'd never be free of it.

By the time he'd acquired the robot, his need for an intimate union with Buffy had become almost physically painful.

The slayer, however, had made it agonizingly clear that she would NEVER allow him to touch her in any way.

She had, in fact, come right out and said so...."The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious..."

But, while the robot had satisfied his physical needs, she just hadn't been Buffy. Not the Buffy he really wanted.

The 'bot had Buffy's lovely eyes, but not the fire and spirit that made them sparkle. Her skin, although undeniably soft and tinted the right shade of peachy pink, lacked the warmth of Buffy's living flesh.

Her silky hair was the right shade of honey and golden brown, but it hand't carried the in- toxicating smell that made him dizzy whenever he was close to the slayer.

The biggest, most obvious, difference was that the robot's body...being artificial...held none of the purely female scent that Buffy's gave off.

Some things just couldn't be faked.

Still, even though the 'bot hadn't been a per- fect Buffy, she'd come damn close to it, and he'd been willing to settle.

He'd had no choice after he began having trouble performing in bed with a woman unless he closed his eyes and pretended the body beneath him was hers.

When his imagination was no longer enough, he knew that unless he wanted to spend whatever span of time he had left in a state of constant sexual frustration, something drastic had to be done.

And, as it usually did, his 'something drastic' plan had blown up in his face.

But, those days were over now. Sexual non- fulfillment was a thing of the past, easily forgotten.

There was no more having to seek solace in artificial arms, or using his own hand for whatever meager satisfaction masturbation could provide.

That constant, driving need...a need so strong and ultimately hopeless that it made him want to die permanently...was gone, leaving nothing behind but the normal and healthy desire he felt for the girl he was in love with.

Buffy was HIS girl now. She belonged to him, as he belonged to her, and he could have her when- ever he wanted.

She never denied him. Spike knew that he could come to her at any time of the day or night, and she would welcome him into her arms.

He'd tested that theory once by waking her from a sound sleep in the middle of the night, explaining to her that an erotic dream he'd been having had produced a condition that he needed her help with if he was ever going to be able to go back to sleep.

She'd made love to him for over an hour.

Just the memory of it now was bringing on that same condition, and he smiled like a horny teenage boy sneaking in to his first X-rated movie.

More eager than ever to get his hands of her, he began walking faster.

He was a little more than halfway through the park when he spotted her sitting on a bench, staring intently at something in her lap.

"Hey, there's my girl," he called out to her. "Couldn't wait for me to...."

His words trailed off as he got closer, wondering why she hadn't looked up and smiled when she heard him.

It wasn't until he was standing directly in front of her that he knew exactly why she hadn't responded to him. He stared down at her, horrified by what he saw.

She was asleep!

So completely asleep that she hadn't so much as twitched when he approached her.

"Damn it," he swore softly, kneeling in front of her. "Buffy? Baby?" He shook her gently. "Come on, baby...wake up."

"Hmm?" Confused green eyes opened briefly, then drifted shut again.

This was his worst nightmare come horribly true. Buffy, alone and vulnerable to all sorts of frightening possibilities.

Asleep like this, she'd be an easy target for whoever...or whatever...came along.

Such a juicy opportunity to kill the slayer didn't offer itself up everyday. The greenest, most inept fledgling could snap her neck before she could open her eyes, then spend the rest of his existence bragging about killing the best slayer there ever was.

Thankful that he had been the vampire to stumble across her first, he gathered her up into his arms and carried her home.

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Giles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then fumbled his glasses on and tried to focus on the front door of his townhouse, while someone on the other side tried to batter it down.

"All right...coming," he muttered under his breath, working the locks as quickly as his sleep fogged brain allowed. "Now, for the love of God, stop that racket before you wake the..." The door swung open.

"Dead?" Spike finished. "Too late."

"What on...why are you...," the watcher stammered, still not fully awake as Spike nudged him to one side and walked into the living room. "What time is it?"

"It's time to talk, Rupert," Spike replied. "Past time, actually.

"What, are you SERIOUS?" Giles asked irri- tably. "Time to talk at..." He squinted at the clock over the fireplace. "Four o'clock in the blessed A.M.?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Spike's tone was quiet and serious, with none of the smart ass quality he excelled at. "This can't wait. Not one more bloody night."

He was barely managing to hold the leash on his temper. Only an effort of sheer will power that he'd spent decades instilling in himself kept him from resorting to profanity and violence.

After carrying Buffy home without penetrating the coma like sleep she'd fallen into, he'd taken her upstairs and put her to bed.

He'd undressed her down to her bra and panties, scooted her beneath the blankets and kissed her goodnight...all this without so much as a squeak out of her...then sat on the bed beside her, watch- her sleep.

///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// /////

He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed slowly in and out. His eyes moved over her, tracing every delicate feature, engraving it into his memory.

Although she was as beautiful as ever in his eyes, he could see the changes in her.

Her face was a little too thin, her skin a shade too pale, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. She'd lost weight that her small frame couldn't spare. All in all, she looked older and more careworn than a twenty year old girl should.

Spike knew, without being told, exactly what was wrong, why she looked and acted so tired.

Working long hours at a minimum wage job, broken nights spent prowling around graveyards instead of sleeping, not to mention the added burden of being a surrogate mother to a fifteen year old girl and trying to provide some semblance of a normal home life for her, was taking a harsh physical toll.

He did as much as he could to help, even though housekeeping skills were not his best event.

But keeping the house clean and the laundry done wasn't the most serious problem.

Money, or rather the lack of it, was becoming an issue and Buffy was fretting herself half to death over it.

He had already sold his car months ago. It was a classic, and once it was cleaned up and re- painted, he'd gotten a fairly good price for it.

He could have gotten more, but being unable to produce a title and registration had limited his choice of offers.

Buffy hadn't wanted him to sell it. In fact, she'd asked him not to. It wasn't until the prospect of expensive plumbing repairs were staring her in the face that she'd accepted the money.

She had felt guilty about doing it, and it had taken no small effort on his part to to make her understand that he didn't care about the stupid car.

Sure, he'd liked it well enough. But when you boiled things down to the bare facts, it WAS just a car. A hunk of steel and glass and motor parts, designed to take one from Point 'A' to Point 'B'.

In the long run, the car was nothing to him. But Buffy? Buffy was his life.

His luck at cards had brought in some additional money, but it couldn't be counted on as a steady source of income.

Practiced thief though he may once have been, he knew Buffy wouldn't tolerate him resorting to illegal methods of obtaining money or merchan- dise.

There wasn't much else he could do for her, so she worked double shifts, living mostly on the greasy food she served up.

Long hours on her feet, lack of proper sleep, nutrition that was dubious at best, constant anxiety over money and household repairs, and Dawn's future. These thing were slowly eating away at her, killing her wonderful spirit.

It was already affecting her slaying. Tonight's incident was proof of that.

She had made a bad mistake by falling asleep in the park, leaving herself wide open and helpless.

Though nothing had come of it, how long would it be before she made an even bigger mistake...a fatal one?

Spike was terribly afraid that it wouldn't be very long at all.

He knew that if something wasn't done to fix this mess, he was going to lose her.

Either some creature was going to get hold of her and kill her when she was too beaten down to defend herself, or she would simply drop dead of exhaustion.

Slayer strength or no slayer strength, Buffy was still human. Her body could only take so much of the abuse being heaped on it before it just quit on her.

And there was no way he was going to allow that to happen. If he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of this town kicking and screaming, he would do it without thinking twice.

He was going to take care of this, one way or another, and he didn't much care whose neck he had to step on...or break...to do it.

Turning her small hand over in his, he pressed a kiss into it's soft palm, smiling when he saw her automatically close her fingers to hold on to the kiss.

"Even in your sleep," he said, smoothing back her hair, "You know I love you."

///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// /////

Spike stood in the living room, waiting as Giles closed his front door.

"All right," the watcher said, folding his arms across his chest. "Why do we need to talk at this...inconvenient hour of the morning.?"

"Sorry about that," Spike said sarcastically."I'd have dropped by in the afternoon, but I'm really more of a night person."

"Very amusing," Giles replied, sounding any- thing but amused. "Now will you just get on with it?"

Lowering himself into a chair, Spike propped hi feet up on the coffee table, ignoring the watchers scowl.

"How long have you been at the Watcher game?"

Giles stared at him in disbelief. "You're here at four in the morning...to ask me THAT?! You couldn't have waited for a time when civilized people are up and about?"

Spike shrugged. "I never claimed to be civil- ized," he said. "Just answer the question."

There was a long pause as Giles decided to humor the insane vampire and hurry him on his way. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I began to be trained as a watcher in my childhood. As was my father, and my grandmother before him. Now...if that's all you wanted to know, the..."

"Right," Spike cut him off. "So, it's what...sort of a family business, is it?"

"I'd hardly refer to it as a business," Giles bristled.

"Then it's just a job?"

"No. No, of course it's not just a job. It's..it's a calling, not unlike a desire to join the clergy or..."

"But you paid for it, don't you?" Spike narrowed his eyes slightly. "Watcher's council pays you a salary...right?"

Giles sighed. "Are you anywhere in the neighbor- hood of a point?"

"Oh, I'm getting there," Spike assured him. "I just want to be clear on this. You...a watcher...get paid a salary, right?"

Still hoping that cooperation would rid him of his uninvited guest, Giles nodded. "Yes, I get paid a salary. Why do you..."

"Must be a pretty good one, too," Spike interrupted again. "Places like this," he gestured around the room, "don't come cheap. And your little magic shop isn't exactly printing money, is it?"

Giles was silent.

"And, correct me if I'm wrong," Spike continued, "but didn't you just buy a very expensive new car?"

"Leased," Giles said shortly.

Spike shrugged. "Even so." He swung his feet back down to the floor. "Now, here's my point, so listen up...it doesn't seem quite right that you watchers get paid a big salary, while the girls who do the actual slaying...don't."

Giles looked truly surprised, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape.

Spike pressed on. "Maybe, it's time to rethink this whole Watcher/Slayer dynamic, huh?"

"In...in all my years as a watcher...in all the journals I've studied...this has never come up," Giles stammered, shaking his head. "Why do you...why are you asking this?"

"Because things change, Watcher," Spike an- swered curtly. "Circumstances change."

Giles shook his head. "That may be true for you, but tradition..."

"SCREW TRADITION" Spike shouted. Giles flinched, and the vampire forced himself to modify his tone. "Circumstances change," he said again, "and the rules should change with them."

"What on earth do you mean?"

Spike sighed. "I mean," he said softly, "Buffy isn't a teenager anymore, with a mother providing all the basic necessities of life for her."

"I realize that," Giles said. "But I don't understand.."

"Well, if you'd shut up and let me finish," Spike bit out impatiently, "then maybe you WILL under- stand."

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and calming his temper.

"Buffy is older now than all the slayers before her, and the reason she's older is because she's so damn good at what she does. So good that she might continue doing it for a long time, right?"

Giles nodded. "I pray that she does, of course. And the council as well."

Settling back into the cushions, Spike laced his fingers together and turned his hands out- wards, making the knuckles crack unpleasantly.

"Well, don't bet the farm on it, Rupert. Because she doesn't have much time left."

The watcher tensed, replacing his glasses and meeting Spike's intent gaze with his own. "What are you saying," he asked. "Have you heard about something being planned for her? Has...has there been a direct threat?"

Spike shook his head. "No."

"Well, then tell me what you mean by that com- ment!" Giles demanded.

"I mean...that she's coming slowly unglued right before your stupid eyes." Spike felt the anger beginning to simmer and his demon struggling to emerge, and he concentrated on beating it into submission.

"She's doing too bloody much," he continued deliberately, as though he were explaining some- thing to a dull witted child. "She's on her feet for hours every day at a dead end job, living on fast food and coffee. And between her slaying and worrying about earning a living...she's not sleep- ing properly. She's exhausted.

Giles looked stricken at this revelation. "I didn't realize that things were so...I mean, she's never said..."

Spike had no sympathy. "She shouldn't have to say it. YOU should have seen it, Watcher. Isn't that part of your job description?" He released a harsh, unamused laugh. "Watcher? That's bloody funny, isn't it?" he asked bitterly.

Giles opened his mouth to speak, but Spike didn't give him a chance. "Oh, you WATCH her all right...but you don't SEE."

Unable to sit still, he jumped to his feet and paced restlessly around the room. Stopping suddenly, he turned on one heel and fixed his eyes squarely on Giles.

"I have a story to tell you," he said quietly. "And I want you to play close attention to it."

He approached the sofa where Giles was sitting, with slow, measured steps. "Once upon a time..."

"Oh, good God," Giles muttered. "ONCE UPON A TIME," Spike repeated, raising his voice. "There was a princess. She was very beautiful and very brave, and all her subjects loved her. One day the "Royal Council", comprised equally of jackasses and idiots, came to the castle where the princess lived. They told her that, out of all the princesses in the world, she had been chosen to slay the dragons that preyed on humanity."

"The princess was frightened...uncertain. She was only one girl, and there were too many dragons to even begin to count."

"These dragons were bloodthirsty creatures, that breathed fire, and they absolutely loved to kill people and eat them all up."

"The princess asked the council what in the world she could possibly do to stop them. The council told her not to worry, because they were going to teach her to everything she needed to know about dragons and how to kill them."

"So, they trained her to fight, and the princess discovered that she was very strong and very fast, maybe more than anyone else in the world."

"Finally, there came a day when the council placed a sword in her hand, and kicked the princess out the front door of her castle."

Giles looked as though he was going to speak, but Spike silenced him with a glare.

"Now, don't worry," the council assured the princess. "We'll be watching you. We'll watch every move you make, every battle you fight. But...before you go, remember this...the fate of the world depends upon you, and you alone."

"So, the princess set out alone into a dark and dangerous world. She made some friends along the way, and they tried to help her but they could only do so much."

Giles stood up and went into the kitchen. He took a bottle of aspirin out of the cupboard, then ran himself a glass of water and swallowed three of them.

Spike waited until he returned to the sofa and sat down.

"Over the next few years," he went on, "the princess killed an army of dragons, some of which nearly killed HER instead. At one point, she met up with a dragon that she couldn't manage to kill, no matter how hard she tried. This dragon was drawn to the princess, although he didn't understand why."

"Turns out, this particular dragon wasn't really a dragon at all. He told the princess that a black haired witch had cast a spell that turned him into one, and that actually, he was a knight in...well, not exactly shining armor...and that he was quite handsome as well."

Giles rolled his eyes. "This is supposed to be you, I presume."

Spike shrugged his shoulders and smirked. "Now that you mention it..."

"I wish I hadn't."

"Anyway," Spike went on. "The dragon required a princess to break the spell he'd been cursed with. All he needed, you see, was..."

"If you say "love's first kiss" I shall strike you." Giles warned.

"Oh, all right," Spike said agreeably."Long story short...

"Short?!"

...the spell was broken. After that happened, the princess and the knight..."

"Oh, DO let me guess," Giles cut in sarcastic- ally. "They go on their way, merrily slaying dra- gons together, and lived happily ever after. Who would have guessed?" He ignored Spike's thun- derous frown. "I'm quite sincere, you know. Never saw it coming."

Spike stared at the watcher in silence for a few moments, slowly shaking his head. "No, that's not right."

"Really?" Giles asked. "Fancy that! I thought all fairy tales ended that way."

Spike's voice dropped into a lower, more threat- ening tone. "That's the way the story SHOULD have ended, Rupert. Shall I tell you what really happened?"

Giles leaned back against the sofa. "I suppose you will whether I want you to or not."

Resisting the urge to punch the man in the face, Spike went to the window and pulled back the curtains. Sunrise wasn't far away.

Without turning around, he said, "The knight loved the princess more than he'd ever loved anyone before. He protected her as well as he could, but he was unable to protect her from...herself."

"The princess, because it was her "Sacred Duty" continued to hunt and slay dragons. Night after night, month after month, year after year. She fought them and she always won...always."

"Until the night came, when she was so tired...so worn out from slaying dragons and trying to provide for her subjects...that she fell into an ex- hausted sleep near a dragons's lair."

"And while she slept on the forest floor...a dragon happened upon her without warning...and killed her."

Spike turned from the window and looked at Giles. "Now...do you see?"

The reality of what Spike was telling him, the truth behind the story, hit the watcher right between the eyes.

"When..." He cleared his throat. "When did...did this happen?"

"Few hours ago," Spike said. "I found her sitting on a bench in a park that is sometimes crawling with vampires...asleep. So deeply asleep that a nuclear bomb could have exploded in front of her without waking her up."

"Dear, God..."

"Don't you mean THANK God?" Spike asked harshly. "As in 'thank God Spike found her before some other vampire sank its fangs into her?"

Giles' hands were shaking as he clasped them together. "Yes. Yes, of course. Thank God in- deed...and thank you as well."

I don't want you to thank me," Spike snapped, opening the front door. "I want you to do some- thing about this, and I want it done soon...before it's too late."

He was out the door when the watcher's voice called him back.

"Until this is settled...you'll take care of her?"

Spike scowled, angry that he'd even asked such a foolish question. As if he'd trust anyone else to take care of her. "Don't you worry about that," he said. "Until this is settled, I'm not letting her out of my sight."

Giles stood up, a little more composed. "I just need to be sure that she's...."

Spike held up one hand. "I'll take care of Buffy. That's MY job, now...not yours. You just concentrate your energy on the idiot brigade and leave the slayer to me."

He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway.

"You make them do right by her, Watcher," he said softly. "Because if you don't," he added through clenched teeth, "I swear to GOD that I'll take her so far away from this place that you'll NEVER find her."

Giles stared at the floor. "Threats won't help matters, Spike."

Highly amused, Spike shook his head. "Oh, Rupert," he said, "You really don't know me at all, do you?" Stepping out into the cold, pre- dawn air, he actually smiled a little. "That wasn't a threat. THAT...was a promise."

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Literally moments ahead of the sunrise, Spike climbed the stairs to Buffy's room. He closed the door quietly, happy to see that she was still deeply asleep.

After making sure the heavy curtains on the window were drawn tight, he undressed and climbed into bed next to her.

Even though he was certain that Hannibal and his elephants could march through the room without disturbing her, he moved carefully, not wanting to jostle her awake.

Laying beside her, propped on one arm, he studied her sleeping countenance, content just to look at her.

Her slumber seemed peaceful, her features relaxed and wiped clean of the worry that was so much a part of her appearance lately.

Gone was the tension, the grinding anxiety that plagued her waking hours, leaving behind the visage of a pretty child who led a carefree life, and had nothing but whimsical dreams.

He made a silent promise to keep her that way.

Lowering himself to the mattress, he placed one arm around her protectively, guarding the precious sleep that allowed her to escape..even if only temporarily..from a world that had already hounded her into her grave once.

"You sleep sweet, baby," he whispered. "Sleep as long as you want to. I'm here now, and I won't let anything bad happen to you. Nothing is ever gonna hurt my baby again."

Sensing him there, Buffy turned towards him and snuggled closer.

"That's right," He tightened his embrace. "Just rest and get better. I'll slay those dragons for you...even the human ones."

He closed his eyes and joined her in healing sleep.

Part Two......
(Five days later)

Buffy flung open the front door with a bang and pelted upstairs, shouting Spike's name.

She found him in the bedroom, stretched out on the bed, paging through her high school yearbook.

He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, out of breath, and clearly excited about something.

"Someone chasing you?" he asked casually.

"You will NEVER guess what happened today," she announced, launching herself across the room and into his arms. "Go ahead...try. Try and guess. You'll never be able to."

He closed the book and tossed it aside, smiling at her bright eyed enthusiasm. It had been far too long since he'd seen her like this.

Straddling his thighs, Buffy jumped up and down gleefully. "Try and guess," she demanded again.

"But if I'll never be able to guess, then why don't you just save us a little time and tell me?" he suggested.

Her smile disappeared. "Try and guess!" she ordered, scowling.

Although he already had a pretty fair idea what had happened, she was so animated that he just had to play along.

"Hmm...Doublemeat Palace burned to the ground?" he ventured.

Her grin returned as she shook her head. "No, it's something good."

"That IS something good."

"Something better."

He placed his hands on her waist, scooting her up into his lap. "Victoria's Secret catalog finally came?"

Buffy sighed, punching his shoulder lightly. "Do you think of nothing else?"

"Occasionally," he replied, giving her hips an affectionate squeeze, "but not often."

"One more guess," she warned him, swat- ting his hand away when it tried to sneak under her shirt.

"Big shoe sale at the mall?"

"No!" She waved an envelope under his nose. "It's this!"

The envelope had been opened, and he could see the foreign postage on it. Taking it from her, he pulled its shredded edges apart and looked inside. "A check?"

"Yes!" Buffy nodded. "THAT is a check. A PAYCHECK. Made out to me!"

"Mm-hmm." Spike saw the amount and manufactured a surprised look. "When did you get a raise?"

"Ah-HAH!" She took the envelope back and extracted the check, displaying it for him. "I didn't. THIS is from the...brace your- self...Watcher's Council!"

Now, he had to look even more surprised.

"They're paying you now?"

"Yep!"

"How come?"

"Giles." She shook her head and examined the check again. "I guess he bullied them into it or something," she explained. "He was wor- ried, on account of I'm so tired all the time."

Spike smoothed her hair back. "I know how he feels," he said quietly.

He assumed from what she was saying that Giles hadn't mentioned the pre-dawn discussion they'd had. Since he didn't care who got the credit for it, as long as HE got the results he wanted, he was happy to let her believe that it was her watcher that had lit this particular fire beneath the Council's collective asses.

"He told them that he was afraid that my slaying might start to be affected," she went on. "You know, that I might get sloppy and....well, dead."

"Well, good on Giles, then" Spike said. "Now you can go in tomorrow and tell them where they can stick their sodding job."

Buffy laughed. "I stopped on the way home and did just that!"

"I'm glad, baby." He pulled her closer and kissed her.

"Just think," she said happily. "No more smelling like a vat of greasy french fries."

"No more burning your little fingers on the grill," he added, kissing her fingertips.

"No more sore cheeks from having to smile for twelve hours."

He kissed both cheeks. "No more slave wages."

"No more getting hit on by horny customers."

"No more...EXCUSE ME?!" He had been reclining back against the headboard, but her words jack- knifed him into a sitting position. "When the hell did THAT happen, and WHY the hell didn't you tell me about it?"

"Because I knew you'd react this way," she said. "You'd come down there to defend my honor and I'd get fired because my boyfriend was beating up on the customers, not to mention your head would probably explode." She draped her arms loosely around his neck. "Forget about it. It doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters to ME!" He grabbed her left hand and shook it. "Doesn't anyone pay attention to a ring anymore? Does tradition mean NOTHING to you humans?"

Buffy shook her head. "Actually...don't get mad..I didn't wear it at work. I was afraid something would happen to it," she added quickly. "It was your mother's ring and...I didn't want the diamond to get all greasy, so I...wore it on a chain inside my uniform."

"Oh, wonderful," he grumbled. "Now I have to hang a damn sign around your neck."

She grinned. "Like a 'Keep off the Grass' sort of thing?"

"Something like that, yeah! Only more...permanent!"

"You mean like having 'Property of Spike' tattooed on my ass?"

"I COULD do that." He gave her a speculative look, as though he was actually considering it. "But unless you're planning to drop your pants every time some stupid bastard hits on you...stop laughing...it isn't funny!"

"Oh, but it is," she teased him. "It really is! Poss- essive much?"

"MUCH!" he said loudly, pulling her closer. "You are taken!"

"Yes. I am," she said agreeably. "Every night and twice on Sundays."

Spike was having difficulty maintaining a scowl in the face of such wonderfully light hearted behavior. "Smart ass," he said fondly, giving her a swat on the behind. "Now I'm even happier that than I was before about you quitting that hellhole."

"Why's that, handsome?"

He shrugged. "I'd rather have you kicking demon ass full time," he said. "Least I didn't have to worry about THOSE customers trying to get into your knickers."

"Oh, baby," she said soothingly. "You know there's only one demon I let into my knickers."

She wriggled on his lap, causing an instant and strong reaction beneath his pants.

"That's my girl," he purred, lifting his hips to increase the pressure. "Any chance you'll let him in right now?"

She pretended to consider the request. "I might...if I can get into his knickers, too."

Spike took her hand and placed it on his belt buckle. "He doesn't wear 'em," he whis- pered, nuzzling her ear. "But you're welcome to see for yourself."

"Don't mind if I do."

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"Do you have ANY idea how good that feels?" Buffy groaned.

"Oh, I think I do."

"Mmm...more baby...right there. Ahh...that's the spot...harder...mmm, yeah...God, you're good...."

They knelt together in the middle of the bed, her back to his front as his skilled hands massaged her shoulders, ridding her of any last remnant of tension.

She sighed deeply as his hands slid down her arms and found hers. He lifted them, and placed her arms around his neck. His palms glided down her sides, coaxing a giggle from her when his fingers danced over her rib cage before meeting at her lower abdomen and lacing together.

Buffy's head dropped back, exposing the tender flesh of her throat. The trust implicit in this gesture never failed to thrill him.

He nuzzled her warm skin, kissing the visible throb of her pulse as her blood began to race a little faster, run a little hotter.

"I love you," he murmured, tasting her skin, wetting it with his tongue. "Love you so much."

She turned her head to look in his eyes. "How much?" she asked, her voice husky with the passion she couldn't control when he touched her.

"More than anything...more than anyone," he said, tightening his arms around her waist, "in my entire existence. There's no one but you, luv, there never will be again."

Buffy slipped one hand down to touch his cheek, and he turned his head and pressed a slow, hot kiss into her palm, smiling when her fingers curled inward, holding on to the kiss.

Spike's hands separated and began moving back up her torso, tracing the flare of her hips and the inward curve of her waist, mar- veling at how small and delicately she was made.

Her bare skin felt hot and moist, glistening with a light sheen of perspiration drawn out by her arousal.

He continued exploring, pleased to hear her breathing escalate when his hands found the under curves of her breasts.

Cupping his palms beneath them, he lifted them slightly and pressed them together.

"Feel good, Princess?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"Princess?" She looked at him. "That's new."

"You don't like it?"

"I like it fine," she assured him. "I like all the sweet things you call me."

Well, you ARE my princess," he said, fondling her soft flesh. "My bright little warrior princess. Strong and soft all at the same time."

Buffy sighed. "You make me feel so loved," she said, closing her eyes and leaning back against him.

Spike smiled against her skin. "You ARE loved."

"No, it's more than that," she said, shaking her head a little. "You make me feel...cherished. Safe...and protected."

For a moment, he felt his non-working heart swell to vast proportions. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded. "And I need to feel that way sometimes...even if I am the slayer."

He turned her in his arms. "I promise you...I will always cherish you...and protect you...and take care of you. You're my life, baby...my whole world."

Buffy took his face in her hands and looked him right in the eye. "I love you, too. And you're MY whole world...my man..." Sliding one hand behind his neck, she tangled her fingers in his hair. "Now, make love to me," she demanded. "Do it...long...and hard...and don't stop till I beg you to."

His belt had already been unbuckled and removed, so he reached down and popped the snap on his jeans. "Here's something long and hard, babe," he said, giving her the smile he knew made her instantly wet.

She licked her lips as he took her hand and guided it down between his legs. Taking the zipper tab between two fingers, she pulled it down slowly, purposely teasing him.

Spike clenched his teeth when he felt the warmth of her small fingers on his erection. He started to push his jeans down, irritated when he had to pull away from her and stand to yank them off.

Buffy reclined back on the pillows. "Slow down," she ordered him. "I'm enjoying this."

He stopped and glanced at her. Uh-huh. Baby wants to play.

But he did as she asked, stopping his rush to total nudity and waiting for her instructions.

"Unbutton your shirt, first," she requested. "Hey," she added when he gave her a look. "You took mine off, it's only fair."

He rolled his eyes as he moved to comply.

Buffy leaned over and grabbed a pillow, covering herself with it. "I don't want to distract you," she explained when he pro- tested. "Come on, baby...take it off."

With an immense effort of will, he undid each and every button, then allowed the deep blue fabric to slide over his shoulders and down his arms, dropping to the floor.

"I work better with a blue light," he said, winking at her.

"Sorry, baby. Fresh out." she replied. "Now, pull down your jeans....slowly. Show me what you've got for me."

"Honestly," he griped, pushing on the tight denim, "sometimes I feel like I'm just an ob- ject to you. I'm not just a piece of meat, you know."

Buffy's smile widened. "Oh, I know that, honey. You're definitely more than a piece of meat. But I gotta tell ya...that's a pretty tasty cut of beef you're sporting"

He kicked the jeans away, and placed one knee on the bed. "You sound like a hungry little girl."

"Well...now that you mention it," she shook her hair forward and peeked at him through her bangs. "I haven't eaten in hours."

Spike licked his lips as he crawled up the bed towards her. With one knee on either side of her, he thrust his pelvis forward.

"Eat this," he said, placing his hands on her head and drawing her closer.

Buffy moistened her lips with her tongue, lightly allowing it to flick against the head of his shaft, making him gasp. She grinned up at him, then continued to tease him with quick licks and kisses.

When he was at the point of grabbing her hair and forcing himself in, she opened her mouth and he slipped his cock in, grunting slightly at the feel of her tongue and teeth.

Her hands moved around him, gripping the firm cheeks of his ass and urging him into a shallow thrusting motion.

Spike had to release her head and grab onto the headboard of the bed to keep from falling over. "Oh, God, baby...yes...that's my girl...my sweet little girl...use your tongue, luv...ahh...fuck...you've got a....a beautiful mouth...."

He looked down, watching as his shaft slid in and out of her mouth, feeling it become wet and shiny with her saliva.

When he pulled away from her, she looked up at him. "What? Did I hurt you?" she asked.

He chuckled. "If that's pain, where do I sign up for torture?" He took his cock in his hand and rubbed it against her cheek. "I just wanted to touch you with it...your skin is so fucking soft...I want to rub my cock all over it."

His words caused naughty thoughts to dance merrily through her mind. Pulling back she raised her face and let him rub his cock all over her face. She fluttered her eye- lashes on it, making him hiss, then draped her hair over it, dragging the honey clored tresses over his skin.

But Spike wanted something more. Moving her into a comfortable position, he lowered himself until his cock was lying in the hollow between her breasts.

"Push them together, baby," he directed, and when she did as he asked, he began sliding back and forth.

She looked down and watched as the head of his cock appeared and disappeared. This was driving her crazy. Spike was endlessly in- ventive when it came to sex, and he knew how to do things she'd only ever read about in the Cosmopolitan magazines she'd found in the bottom of her mothers knitting basket.

Spike closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation of Buffy's warm breasts pillowing his cock. He pumped his hips rhythmically, back and forward, semen oozing from him, making it slide smoothly up and down.

Feeling the approach of orgasm, he tried to stop, but she held on to him. "It's all right," she whispered. "Go ahead, baby. I know you want to."

"Christ, I love you," he gritted out through his clenched teeth. Five more thrusts be- tween her breasts and he was ejaculating a stream of fluid onto her, nearly screaming when she took hold of him and rubbed the tip of his cock against one hard nipple.

When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her, she gave him a cheeky smile. "You're panting," she informed him.

"Yeah, I know...I don't know why," he ad- mitted.

She giggled. "Don't care why," she replied, as she wiped her breasts with a corner of the sheet. "It's sexy."

"Uh...yeah! That's it...that's why I do it." He laughed. "Just for you, babe."

"I thought I was Princess," she reminded him.

He nodded. "Just for you, Princess."

He fell onto his back, and she immediately clambered over him. "Do you know," she asked, "one of the things I love most about you?"

He shrugged. "My good looks and charm?"

"Well, there IS that, but that's not what I meant."

"Enlighten me, Pussycat," he said, sliding his arms behind his head.

"I love the fact that once you get hard...you stay that way for a long time...even after you come."

He grinned. "Ah, yes. The everlasting erection. Drives the ladies wild."

"Watch it, pal," she warned him. "I'm the only lady you're going to be driving wild."

Spike laughed. "You're not a lady...you're a wild- cat."

"I am?" she asked, pleased.

He nodded. "Hell, yes....I've never been with such a little animal."

She tried out a snarl, then grinned. "I AM kind of an animal, aren't I?"

"I've got the bite marks to prove it."

Without warning, Buffy pounced on him, straddling his upper chest.

He sent one finger to the apex of her sex. "Want me to eat it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Uh-huh."

"All right, then." He flipped her over. "But first..."

Dipping his head, he captured her mouth beneath his, sliding his tongue in and finding hers, then licking and biting at her lips.

She pushed him away a little. "Where's my vampire?" she asked.

He produced it, exposing his fangs for her and growling.

Buffy placed her hands on his cheeks, rubbing her thumbs over the ridges and sliding her fingers into his hair.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered, draw- ing his mouth down to hers.

He watched with golden eyes as she licked her tongue over his lips, then slipped it into his mouth when he opened it.

Buffy purposely nicked her tongue on one fang, letting him taste the drops of blood that trickled from it.

Spike's entire body shivered with the pleasure and the power he drew from hers. Coaxing her tongue into his mouth, he sucked on it hard, swallowing the ambrosia of a slayers blood heated with passion.

When he released her mouth, he pressed his face against the side of her neck, leash- ing the demon again, then looked at her with a dark blue gaze as she stroked his smooth skin

Spike blazed a trail down her damp skin, licking and kissing her breasts, tasting the combined flavors of perspiration and the faint salt of his ejaculate.

She threaded her fingers into his hair again, mussing it the way she liked, guiding him where she wanted him to go, not allowing him to move on until she was ready.

He was happy to stay as long as she desired it, happy to make her body vibrate and hum with pleasure.

But while his mouth continued to worship her breasts, one hand moved down and pushed her legs apart.

Buffy was already so wet that his fingers slid through the light brown curls easily, quickly finding the sweet spot.

Placing his middle finger on the untra-sensative knot of flesh, he began to move it up and down, then in small circles. Encouraged by the soft cries and moans coming from her, he finally moved his mouth from her breasts after a last hard suck on each nipple, then licked his way down between her thighs to her pussy.

When she felt the light touch of his tongue, she planted her feet flat on the bed and thrust her hips upwards, demanding that he be more forceful...less "ask" and more "take".

With one hand wrapped around the brass arch of the headboard, she grabbed the back of his head with the other, making him handle her roughly.

Literally dizzy from the scent of her arousal, he gave her what she was begging for. Placing his hands beneath her bottom, he lifted it higher.

Gripping the firm muscle of her rear, he shoved his tongue up into her as deeply as he could force it to go.

Buffy threw back her head and screamed like the wildcat he'd called her, unable to hold it in, unwilling to even try.

From his vantage point between her legs, he looked up at her. He loved watching her reaction when he licked her pussy, almost as much as he loved doing it.

It was a rush of power unlike any other he'd ever experienced.

Even the thrill he'd once felt when he hunted, and the arrogant satisfaction that had washed over him at a kill, was nothing compared to what he felt everytime he reduced this beau- tiful and strong willed slayer into a writhing, panting sex kitten that begged him not to stop.

And this feeling in him was only made more intense by the knowledge that she wielded the same power over him.

HIM! A master vampire, who for over a hundred years had taken what he'd wanted, when he'd wanted it, brought to his knees by this girl.

Brought to his knees, and willing to stay on them forever, thanking any and all deitys that had gotten him there.

And...speaking of going to ones knees...

The image popped into his head with no warning. Never one to believe in delayed gratification, he sat back on his haunches, then grabbed her hips and pulled them towards him.

Realizing his intent, she stopped complaining and distributed her weight equally to her hands and knees, her bottom wriggling with anticipation.

He paused to admire the new view she was giving him. "Has anyone told you that you have an absolutely spectacular ass?" he asked. "Be- cause I've never seen a prettier one."

"Uh-huh," she said, turning her head to look at him, smiling like a cream filled kitten. "My boy- friend likes it too."

He slid one hand into her hair and took a hand- ful of it, pulling on it roughtly, forcing her to raise her head. "Oh, you have a boyfriend, do you?"

She moved her hips enticingly. "That's right."

He gave her bottom a light slap. "Then what are you doing here with me?"

"Umm...being naughty?"

He slapped her ass again, a little harder this time, hard enough to leave a red imprint of his hand.

"OUCH!" she yelped, then looked back over her shoulder at him. "Let's not get carried away back there!"

Spike laughed. "Sorry, Princess."

"I should think you would be," she muttered, laying her cheek against the pillow. "I don't think I've been THAT bad, and you...YIKES!"

Spike's fingers dug into her hips as he thrust himself in completely, then quickly established a hard and fast rhythm, pumping in and out of her with strokes that were almost brutally forceful.

But he had no fear that he might be hurting her. An ordinary girl might not be able to take such man- handling, but she was far from ordinary.

Her body had been made to take his.

The knowledge that they were alone in the house released them, and they made wild, noisy love to each other.

He teased her by stopping his thrusts when he felt her approaching climax. He did this over and over, until she grew impatient and warned him that if he did it one more time, she would finish by herself and force him to do the same.

Not wanting to be ejected from her warmth and tightness, he fell forward and propped himself up on his outstretched arms, apolo- gizing lavishly as he lowered himself down until she was flat on the bed.

When their bodies were in total contact, he began whispering in her ear, his words providing the last bit of stimulation she needed to send her over the edge, screaming his name.

"Come on, baby," he said softly. "Do it for me...make it tight...tighter...that's the way..so good...so hot and wet...ahh...sweet little pussy is so bloody...TIGHT!"

Buffy was almost incapable of speech. "Spike... yes...yes...unh...unh...fuck me...harder."

Spike redoubled his efforts, pounding into her like a machine, fucking her hard, doing it for her.

"You ready, babe?" he asked her suddenly. "Wanna come? Wanna do it now..now..now!"

Each repitition of the word "now" became gradually louder, as he timed the pace of his thrusts with them.

"Yes..." she whimpered. "Ready baby. Make me come..pleasepleaseplease..oh yes...ahhh...YES...YES...YESSS!!"

With an animalistic roar, he increased his already meteoric speed and exploded in- side her, filling her up with everything he had to give her, until it was overflowing and trickling down her thighs

Burying his face in her hair, he thrust weakly a few more times, then went perfectly still.

Mere moments later, he began to harden in- side of her.

She looked back over her shoulder. "Again?" she panted.

"Mmmm..yeah. And again...and again and.....

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"You okay," she asked.

"Uh-huh...you?"

"I'm thirsty."

"Want me to get you something?" he offered, opening his eyes.

Buffy smiled sweetly. "Would you?"

"No sooner said.." Rolling out of bed, he located his jeans and pulled them on.

She pouted. "Whatcha doing THAT for?"

Spike pulled the zipper up, but ignored the top snap. "Little Bit might come in while I'm down there," he explained. "Don't want to traumatize the child."

He leaned over and kissed her. "What would you like to drink, babe?"

"There's ice tea in the fridge," she said, smiling lazily.

"Be right back."

"Oh, by the way..." She halted his de- parture in the doorway. "Thank you."

He gave her a quizzical look. "For what?"

She slid down in bed, stretching. "Thank you for talking to Giles."

"Oh, you're wel..." He stopped. "You knew? How did you know?"

"Giles told me," she said, producing a sultry smile. "And when you get back...I'm gonna thank you allll over again."

The look in her eyes made him shudder with anticipation at her promise. "I'll run."

"You should."

Halfway down the stairs, a slow smile began tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"There's definitely something to be said for taking credit."



THE END




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