The pain began to weaken him at the knees as he limped against Buffy, leaning on her for support.

"Almost there Spike. Still with me?"

He nodded with a grimace and pointed in the direction of the army's stash of pharmaceuticals. Thankfully, he'd remembered his days of captivity in the Initiative, recalling the vast supply of the world's strongest narcotics and painkillers--and so much more. Nothing you could buy or get a prescription for, this was the 'good' stuff.

She wasn't sure what pills would be the most effective, so she emptied the entire arsenal of bottles into her weapons bag. A silent prayer of thankfulness was raised for the stupidity of the Sunnydale police department, because if she were caught, this stash of pills would cost her a long haul in the pokey.

God, she felt awful for what she'd put him through tonight. He'd only tried to help her from making the biggest mistake of her life. And how did she repay his kindness?

He was groaning now, barely conscious, putting his full weight against her. Scared of hurting him even more if she dropped him, she gently forced him to sit on the park bench reaching the cemetery.

Why? Why had she done this? Hot tears were spilling down her cheeks as she cradled the broken vampire who slumped helplessly in her arms. Tears were flooding down his cheeks as well. Was it the physical pain...or was it the things she'd said to him?

She could hear him groaning against his swollen lips and she reached down to kiss them. He hissed in pain at the sudden movement.

"Ow, oh..sorry," she apologized as she lifted him up. They had to hurry to return to his crypt since sunrise was only minutes away. She nearly had to drag his body inside as the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon.

His boot was the only part that caught a bit of the sunlight. She pulled him inside and shut the door behind her.

Not wanting to place him on the rock hard slab of the sarcophagus, she moved him instead to the couch in the far corner of the room. A muffled scream escaped his lips as his body met with the uncomfortable cushions below.

She reached in the bag and pulled out a handful of pill bottles. They were labeled, but she had no idea what they did. Spike began to motion to her to bring the bottles over there. Holding them before him, he pointed to the glass bottle in her left hand. She quickly opened it and removed two medium-sized white pills and placed them in his hand. His swollen fingers tried their best to hold onto them, but they wouldn't bend and he quickly dropped them on the dirt floor.

Buffy picked up the pills and blew them off. She found a glass and some refrigerated blood. Didn't matter how badly he was hurt, there was no way in hell she was feeding him that again. The only other bottles that lay about the crypt were filled with liquor of every kind. Knowing that the combination of painkillers and booze probably wouldn't kill the undead, she opted for the flask of bourbon.

Bending down to meet his mouth, she kissed him sweetly and prodded his lips apart with her tongue. Even in his injured state, he still responded to her gentle touches. However, his lips were so thoroughly bruised, he flinched when her mouth brushed against his.

"Open up, ok? This will make all the pain go away."

Sure, that'll do it. His bones would mend, but how would she heal his broken heart? Somehow, she was going to prove herself.

Placing the two pills between his parted lips, she pushed them in with her tongue until they reached a point where his own tongue could do the rest. Then she raised the flask of bourbon to his lips and he drank greedily, not realizing that it wasn't blood he was drinking. He coughed a bit as the alcohol burned down his throat, carrying the medicine down with it.

The painkillers began to take effect quickly. Thank god he’d remembered where the Initiative had hid their stash. It was quite surprising though to watch the Slayer take nearly the entire inventory in her weapons bag. She knew that he’d be recovered in a day or two, yet she’d gone beyond overboard with hoarding away all of this medication. He would have protested if his lips weren’t so damned swollen.

His mind drifted sleepily to the memory of her lips brushing his. God, how it had hurt! Yet at the same time it had been sinfully delightful to once again feel the warmth of her lips against his room temperature skin. Amid the pain, his cock had still found the strength to salute at full attention. It was truly blissful to feel her tiny pink tongue pry his lips open and press the pills gently inside his mouth. If he hadn’t been sore straight down to his tooth sockets, he probably would have pulled her little muscle straight into his mouth and had a go with her. And bourbon with painkillers? What was she trying to do with that?

Oh right...no pain. Well, pain—but fuck the pain. Fucking pain. Or just fucking. He throbbed deep in his groin area as he began to drift in and out of his dreamland—where the Slayer dutifully attended to his cock. Sleepy now...so, so sleepy.

His eyes closed. The dreaming began.

Warm water in a basin. Soft cotton washcloth. Buffy’s gentle fingers dabbing the blood from his face with utmost care, drying him with her kisses.

Ohhhhh....Buffy, he whispers.

Shhhhhh...love you Spike, she replies, muffling his words with her parted lips. In his dreams, she cleans the smaller wounds with her tongue—a vampire’s wet dream. Then she’s lapping, hungry for more. Soon, she is insatiable and she begins to greedily suck his lifeblood from him.

But she doesn’t change. She never changes in his dreams. She drinks from him and can’t be sated. Makes her crave him. Makes her weak. Weak for him. She can’t draw any more blood from him, so she works her way down to his jeans, her hot breath coming faster and faster over his hips. And then he feels the warm liquid silk of her mouth wrapping itself around his engorged cock.

Mmmmm....feels so good Buffy. Right there....oh yeah....lick it....he was going to start shaking soon as the orgasm was building. He tightened and could feel the cool semen spurting from the slit, making his body convulse with mind blowing pleasure.

And now, through the haze of his drug induced sleep, he was beginning to realize that he’d just filled his pants entirely with jism. Hopefully the Slayer wouldn’t notice the growing wet spot seeping through his jeans.

Bugger it, he thought. Let her see...

Spike kept muttering her name in his sleep as the pills took full effect on him. At least he didn’t appear to be in pain—quite the opposite, in fact, as she took note of the growing bulge in his jeans. She snickered as she watched his hands absently shift his pants into a more comfortable position.

Walking over to him with the water basin, she dipped the cloth into the warm water and began to dab at the wounds she’d created on his face. The bruises were already fading and the cuts had already closed. But the dried blood was still caked on his face and hands.

Carefully, she wiped the blood from his forehead, moving down to the finely sculptured cheekbones. His puffy features screamed to be kissed and she bent down to sweetly press her lips against his face. He had groaned—in pleasure or pain?—as she brushed her lips softly against the bruised skin. Tears began to drip onto his face as she began to unbutton his shirt and saw the result of her pummeling on his chest. With kitten-like lapping, she dried the tears with her tongue.

"Buffy....mmmm....so good....so good to me," he muttered.

Why did he still want her after everything she did to him? Was he that masochistic that he got off on the pain? Or was it that he was willing to walk over broken glass for her? She didn’t deserve what he had to offer, this she knew full well, but part of her needed it—to make her feel alive. She’d lost so much in the last few years: her mother, her life and now her will to live. But for whatever strange reason, Spike made her feel alive. She felt hate, anger and love all mingled together. Though she’d never admit to him the latter part. Yes, she loved an evil soulless creature but that would be her own little secret.

She almost felt jealous of the angelic face dozing peacefully beneath her. No pain, no hurt, no worries marred his face at all. Just once, she’d like to have some of that artificial respite—preferably with no dry heaving afterwards. Not too long ago, she’d learned the hard way that beer may be bad, but liquor was hell itself!

Fingering the pills in one of the bottles for a moment, she considered popping one and enjoying some uninterrupted sleep. But instead she just watched him.

Suddenly he fluttered awake, eyes still glazed from the stupor that enveloped his head like a thick fog. He reached out and clasped his fingers around her wrist, bringing it down to the rock-hard erection that pulsed beneath her fingertips to her heartbeat’s rhythm. His eyes rolled back into his head as she stroked the palm of her hand up and down the bulge that threatened to pop his zipper. She noticed that he wasn’t even fully aware of what he was doing, but she liked watching the pleasure curling his lips in a grin as he got off on her ministrations.

Harder and faster she fondled and caressed him until he was convulsing with the shudders of a burgeoning climax. And with a grunt and moan of satisfaction, he found the release. A large, wet stain began to seep through his pants. Then as quickly as he had awoken, he was back in la-la land.

She supposed he shouldn’t be left to stew in his sticky wet juices, so she struggled with all of her might to remove his pants and clean him up. Removal wouldn’t be the hardest part, she’d imagined, it was getting a fresh pair back on him that would be the true feat. The pants were ruined from the looks of it. It was amazing how much semen he had released! This was what flowed inside of her? She gulped at the thought.

What made things worse was that as she caressed the length of his cock with the wet washcloth, it began to grow hard again in her hands. It twitched as she tenderly wiped at his testicles, removing the last remnants of cum from them and the surrounding tuft of hair. The demon inside of him purred with contentment as she completed the cleansing. The wanton woman inside of her wanted to purr against the stiff flesh and clean him with her mouth.

"Mmmm, you know you want to, luv" Spike replied, now clear eyed and awake, but with lust burning deep within the cool blue gaze that hid behind his thick black lashes.

Well, she had hurt him after all...it was the least she could do, right?

Maybe it was the drugs talking, but Buffy almost seemed to care about him as she cleaned his wounds and attended to his needs. Yes, that one had been a surprise to be sure, but he wasn’t in the position to complain.

His mending bones groaned as he struggled to thrust into her soft, pink mouth. The numbness of the painkillers thankfully wearing off. Would have hated to miss this bit of feeling, he wagered. He gasped in awe as she continued her ministrations while using a free hand to hold his hips in place. The feel of her warm hands against his cool bruised skin undid him and he came dangerously close to unleashing his seed into her mouth.

"Slayer....my Slayer....hurts...no, wait....don’t stop...don’t stop...hurts sooo good," he uttered.

She had paused when he mentioned the pain, but when he insisted that she continue despite it, she was more than willing to take him deeper into her mouth. Her tongue swirled in slow, deliberate circles around the head of his cock and he shook violently at the sensations she produced. Who needed heaven when you had this? If only he wasn’t so tired and broken so he could slip his swelling shaft into her hot little pussy and fuck her until she was raw! He made up his mind that as soon as he healed—possibly sooner—he was going to take full advantage of that fantasy.

As if the things she did weren’t enough, she removed her mouth momentarily and pressed her lips against his balls. She kissed and licked at the base where his cock and balls met. The soles of his feet felt as if they were on fire as the orgasm began to build and grow, making his legs quiver as it traveled up his body. Their eyes locked, which made her hum and purr against his velvet orbs. His eyes rolled up into his head and he lost all power of speech and thought as she tantalized the area with different sensations of moist and dry, caressing and purring. She pulled the engorged length of his shaft back into her mouth and pumped her lips and hands furiously around it until he shouted with a mixture of pleasure and pain, spilling helplessly into her throat. He theorized that if he could have multiple ejaculations, watching her consume his seed and cleaning him with her tongue would have been the beginning of it.

"Mmmmmm....delicious," she replied as she licked the remnants of his climax from her lips.

Who needed painkillers when you had an expert in fellatio hovering above you?

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

After this earth shattering moment of bliss, he drifted back into a deep sleep, the Slayer curled beside him. His arm unconsciously curved around her waist protectively as he slept and it made her feel secure—almost alive. They slept most of the night and part of the following day, comforted in each other’s embrace—it was almost perfect.

Buffy woke first, but didn’t attempt to move beneath the strong arms that enveloped her. Instead, her mind began racing about everything that had happened in the past few months. How had she gotten to this place? How had everything changed so drastically in such a short amount of time? Where was everyone when she needed them? When, if ever, would she start to feel alive again?

It was so difficult to feel alive, now that she was back. Gone were the days of wishing for normalcy, a nice boyfriend or even an intact family. All that remained was her bratty sister, who for reasons unknown had begun to act resentful towards her. An absentee Watcher that called to check on her periodically, but reminded her entirely too much of her absentee father who had run off with his secretary. A handful of friends: Willow, Xander and Tara...but they were too wrapped up in their own relationship dramas to pay attention to the pain and turmoil of readjusting to this harsh new world. Even Spike seemed to occasionally be too wrapped up in his own need of Slayer pussy to really help her get back on her feet—course, that was partly her own fault.

But out of all of these people, the one who wasn’t an actual "person" was the one who made any effort in urging her to reintegrate herself back into this reality. Of course, he’d never been to heaven, had he? If he only knew the comfort, tranquility and finality of being dead and in heaven, maybe then he could understand her lack of desire for being resurrected. Her heart had an empty hole in it that made her long for the days of floating in warmth and nothingness.

If only she could find that lust for life she’d once had. Could she find it again? And would the cool body that lay next to her be the answer to her unspoken prayer? Who better to understand the lust for life than the undead?

"A penny for your thoughts, luv"

She wasn’t sure what to tell him, then answered, "Nothing going on up here. All’s quiet in Buffy’s brain."

For a moment, he looked as if he might come back with a smart-assed retort, but instead he hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead. "That’s ok, pet, I think I know what’s going on in that head of yours. And I can’t blame you."

"And what, pray tell, does the all-knowing William the Bloody know about what’s going on in my head?" she teased.

"That this couch is horribly uncomfortable, a spring is poking your side and you’d be more than willing to move downstairs to a nice comfy bed. Am I at least partially right?"

"Well, you’re not wrong..."she trailed off. He always knew what she was thinking, but more often than not waited to bring it up until they were post-coital. She imagined it wouldn’t be long before he was telling her what was really wrong deep down.

"Come on now, kitten. Let’s go somewhere more comfy. I’m almost good as new."

Vampiric healing still amazed her almost as much as her Slayer healing did. Any normal human being probably would have died from such a traumatic beating, but Spike only had a few bruises and slight internal pain left over from her pummeling. He had a tiny limp, but carried himself with cautious ease as he neared the ladder to his underground bedroom.

She followed him down the steps and watched his naked form crawl onto the silken sheets. Had to give him credit, the man slept in luxurious style and utmost comfort. It had made her giggle uncontrollably when he reasoned that his style came from feeding off an interior decorator. Morbid? Yes, but hilarious too.

* * * * * *

His pale, yet slightly bruised skin slid gracefully over the silk and he turned towards her—beckoning for intimacy. She graciously obliged him and snuggled into the cool smoothness beside him. His fingers instantly tugged at the black turtleneck that obstructed him from viewing her breathtaking bosom. He longed to nuzzle at the satin-smooth mounds and draw her nipples into taut peaks.

However, being the unpredictable creature she’d always been, she asked "What’s it like?"

A bit confused, he attempted to clarify the question. "What’s what like luv?"

"Enjoying life, even when you’re dead?"

He had to mull that one over for a while. What didn’t make life enjoyable? Even the misery he’d experienced reminded him that he was still alive and kicking.

Finally coming up with what he hoped would be an acceptable answer, he replied, "When I’m with someone that I love, come hellfire or apocalypse, life is enjoyable."

She cringed a bit at this, then her features softened a bit as what he had said began to sink in.

"Is there anything that can help me get there? I mean, I don’t even know if I’m capable of love anymore. I want to love, I want to feel...something...but it just won’t come! If only there was a magic pill or something that could help me get there," she sighed and stared off into space.

There were options that could be considered, but would a magic pill solve her problems? At this point, he was willing to try anything to bring her back to some semblance of normality—even though her destiny all but defied anything normal.

"Well," he began warily, "There is this drug...kind of like a mystical Prozac, if you will, that is supposed to help you find a zest for life. But the details of where to find it and the aftereffects are sketchy at best."

Her face brightened for a moment, almost hopeful, "Do you think you can find it?"

"I found the Gem of Amara, this should be a piece of cake."

Not sure if this was the answer to all of their problems, or if he could even locate this potent drug, but he’d search until his dying day if it meant seeing the Slayer happy again.

Ten days later and countless visits to Willy’s hadn’t turned up any information on this particular drug that he was searching for. It would have helped greatly if he could remember the name of the stupid medicine, but the only place that would have access to it would be the Magic Box—and he didn’t fancy Giles catching him poking about for information on drugging a Slayer. So he continued his search via old contacts and people that owed him favors. However, since he’d become a feared demon killer, people were less than forthcoming with their knowledge.

One thing left to do, break into the Magic Box.

* * * * * * * *

She hadn’t wanted to push or pry about the drug he was searching for, mainly because she missed not having him around. Couldn’t very well have a slayer tagging along behind him when he was working for a cure—well, hopefully it would be a cure.

The night he came in looking a bit nervous, she feared that he’d never be able to find what she so desperately needed. Instead he revealed to her that the information he sought lay right beneath their noses.

"The Magic Box?"

"Yeah, luv. The Magic Box."

"Giles knew about this and hadn’t offered for me to try it?" the Slayer asked him with great distress in her voice. How could Giles withhold from her the one thing that would bring her back to the land of the living?

"So the plan is this: I go tonight after the store closes and steal it for you."

"No!" she shouted, almost surprised at the volume of her voice.

"No?" he asked with a questioning eyebrow raised, "I thought this is what you wanted, pet?"

She rolled her eyes in annoyance, "I mean, you don’t have to break in. I’ll just walk up there and get it myself! I don’t need you to go through the trouble of breaking and entering when I can walk in there any time of the day and get whatever I need with no explanations."

"Oh sure, take all the fun out of it for me" he pouted.

God, he was sexy when he pouted...

* * * * * * *

The Scooby meeting bored her nearly to tears. Reminded her of when she first came back to life, the Day-That-Never-Ended. No new news to report except for what Buffy had offered to them about Katrina’s murder. Other than this, everything was pretty quiet. Might even get a day off from slaying—well, maybe a quick patrol in the cemetery.

Everyone got up and milled around the Magic Box. Anya busying herself with stocking shelves for the next day, Xander helping with the bookkeeping—which Buffy never understood because he was worse at math than she was! Willow and Tara offered to take Dawn out to the coffee shop and buy her some hot chocolate. This left Buffy alone to wander throughout the store without anyone paying the least bit of attention to what she was doing.

Climbing up the ladder to the upper library, she scanned the shelves for the fake spellbooks Giles placed in front of the hardcore Dark Magick books. When she’d found what she was looking for, she moved them out of the way and searched for the one entitled "Ecstasis"—the one Spike had told her to look for.

She found the book easily and slipped it inside the front of her leather jacket. Thankfully, the book wasn’t too bulky, so she didn’t have to worry about being caught.

That was until Anya noticed her coming down the ladder.

"What were you doing up there, Buffy?"

The Slayer attempted to close her jacket further, so that Anya wouldn’t notice that part of the inventory was missing.

"Uh, nothing Anya. Just bored."

"Do you think I’m stupid Buffy?"

Okay, she’d been caught. What now? Oh right, act stupid. "What do you mean?"

"The spellbook," Anya replied with her hands on her hips, "You have it."

"Huh?" Buffy continued, still trying to feign ignorance.

Anya thumped her fingers on the leather of her jacket, "It pooches your jacket."

"Oh..."

"I don’t mind Buffy. Really. I don’t. Just return it when you’re done. Matter of fact, I’m surprised you haven’t looked for that book sooner."

From the back room, Xander shouted, "What book?"

"Nothing sweetie!" Anya shouted back, "It’s girl talk...you know, time-of-the-month kind of stuff." The ex-vengeance demon gave Buffy a just-between-us-girls wink. Buffy smiled back at her, glad that for once Anya showed some discretion.

And with that, she left—still hiding the book within the confines of her jacket.

"Yep. This is it. The Holy Grail...or whatever you wanna call it."

Spike sat atop the sarcophagus, legs crossed. Buffy deposited the book into his hands and he studied it. Yes, this was it.

He fingered the leather binding and carefully opened the dusty book. The pages were yellowed and the ink was fading, but it was still legible. Thankfully he was able to translate the ancient language:

"What does it say?" Buffy questioned with a hint of concern in her voice.

"Nothin’ I didn’t already know. Findin’ happiness and what-all. Does give the standard warning about remaining in this ‘happy’ state...and the outcome if it continues. Dunno how much you want to take that risk, pet."

Buffy shifted from one foot to another. "I don’t know. Not sure I really want to chance dying AGAIN and then being ripped from heaven...AGAIN."

Then she smiled. Granted, it was more a lopsided smirk than anything, but it was a start. "Maybe I will read up on this some more luv and then we’ll talk about it later. Sound good?"

She nodded and headed out the door.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah Spike?"

"I love you."

"I know."

* * * * * * *

"Bugger this," Spike growled with annoyance as he searched up and down the block. There was to be a hot spot near this area that concealed the dealer of the potion he searched for. However, either his vampire senses were extremely off, or he was too distracted by the fact that he’d gone two full days without so much as touching the Slayer. He was feeling quite randy and decided that if he didn’t find what he was looking for tonight, he’d give the girl a taste of a potion that’d cheer both of them up for the time being.

His skin began to buzz as he sensed the power emanating from the alleyway. Score one for the vampire! He reached forward to find the doorway and watched his hand disappear in front of him.

Cautiously, he entered. The room was small with plain white walls and sturdy wooden chairs. Several people were curled up in a corner of the waiting room, shaking uncontrollably. They reminded him of crack addicts. One man stared at him with dark rimmed eyes. It was truly a haunting sight.

Spike started to wonder if this was a good idea, finding the Slayer some "happy juice". But he knew full well the risks involved and he was willing to do what it took. He also knew what he was prepared to do if something should go wrong.

He nearly jumped out of his leather duster as the door flew open. The warlock stared at him, a truly scary bloke, and sneered, "Enter vampire."

The room he entered was decorated slightly better than the last one he’d been in. Swaths of red silk hung from the walls in a haphazard fashion. Mystical candles were lit and glowed all different kinds of colors throughout the room.

His fascination with the decor was interrupted again by the eerie voice, "You seek the potion? Why?"

"Don’t play games with me mate," Spike replied. "If you know that I’m seeking the potion, surely you know why I want it?"

The warlock placed his hand upon the vampire’s chest, "You want it for the girl. You think if you do this for her, then she will welcome you with open arms. How far hath the unrighteous fallen."

"If I’d wanted a sermon, I would have gone to church. Now give me the bloody potion or I’ll drain you right now!" Spike growled deep in his throat, his eyes flecked with gold as the demon sprang forth.

"You couldn’t," Rack replied, "You’re restrained. But I don’t have time for pissing matches. I will take a little ‘tour’...and then the potion will be yours."

"Do whatever you have to do and get the hell on with it already!"

Rack’s hand seemed to sink deeper into his chest, searching for something that Spike wasn’t quite sure of. All at once he felt lighter than air, the atmosphere around him crackling as his body defied gravity. His skin hummed with toe-curling ecstasy. He saw the face of the Slayer, walking towards him in nothing a translucent white robe. She reminded him of an angel. Something like the sun shone around them. He felt her fingers lace through his and she looked at him lovingly with tears shining in her eyes. The world began to crumble around them, but he didn’t seem to care. All he could concentrate on was the Slayer’s hand in his. I love you, she said.

He awoke in his burned out crypt.

All of this for nothing? Dammit! He pulled an empty bottle from the top of the sarcophagus and threw it across the room. The warlock had taken something from him, and given him nothing in return! No wonder the hot spot moved so often. No doubt he had many people gunning for him.

His anger seemed to melt away as he searched his pockets for a cigarette and noticed a vial where his lighter had once been. He pulled it from the coat and stared at it. Yes, this was what he’d been searching for.

The liquid contained in the vial glowed like lightning from the sky. If he hadn’t been so intent on finding the Slayer, he would have almost considered drinking from the vial himself! Something about the way the potion swirled and bubbled inside the glass held him entranced. But this was not for him, it was for his Slayer. He would prove to her once and for all that he truly did love her and she would have to stop denying that he was incapable of it.

* * * * * * *

Buffy didn’t know if she should have taken Spike up on his "surprise", but somewhere deep down she knew that fun would be had. Would he take this opportunity to get his kink on? Or would he just pound into her flesh until she bruised as per usual? No doubt, there would be sex. It always boiled down to sex. Seemed to be the one thing that they never argued about. Seemed to be the one thing they were both VERY good at.

She crept cautiously towards the crypt and saw the faint glow of candlelight flickering in the window. At least the light was flattering on her—perhaps that’s why he said she looked so beautiful? If he’d seen her in natural light, maybe his thoughts might change. But Spike practically worshipped the ground she walked on. She imagined that if she had a zit the size of a basketball hanging off the end of her nose, he’d still tell her what a gorgeous creature she was.

As her hand reached for the doorknob, the door swung open.

She gasped at the transformation. This wasn’t a crypt, it was fairyland! Candles were everywhere. Some scented like vanilla, others scented like berries. The drab couch was gone in addition to the television. The sarcophagus was draped with a long lace tablecloth and more candles in brass holders adorned it. Cobwebs were gone—even the dirt floor looked ‘clean’.

Buffy stood dumbfounded in the doorway, mouth gaping open in awe at what he had done to convert a creepy tomb into a cozy home. Her observation was interrupted as two pale arms enveloped her, holding her close.

"Hello luv," he breathed into her ear.

"It’s...It’s....it’s beautiful!" she sighed, leaning back into his chest.

"Just like you kitten," he purred against her neck. She felt her tension melt away as he chastely kissed around her hairline and pulled her tighter against him. Yes, sex was definitely going to be had—whether he wanted it or not!

He seated her among soft pillows with red and pink satin coverings. Skimming a finger over the cool, slick fabric, she closed her eyes and imagined her cheek settling on it. Instead, she felt the feather soft lips of her vampire lover caressing her face with tiny kisses.

She turned to face him and his hand lifted to cup her chin. He turned it up to his face and leaned in to kiss her once again. Their kiss only broke briefly so that he could just look at her. His tenderness never ceased to amaze her, the quiet reverence seducing her as he drank in her beauty with his crystal blue eyes.

Buffy trailed her own path of kisses on his cheek and over to his ear. "I love my surprise," she whispered.

"This isn’t your surprise," he grinned, "it’s only the warm-up act."

* * * * * * *

He grinned from ear to ear as he watched the Slayer’s eyes widen at this revelation.

"I wanted to make this occasion special."

Buffy gave him a shy smile that made his stomach flutter, "How could it get more special than this?"

Spike answered by placing a small oblong box into her hands. She looked down at the box and then back up again at her vampire lover. "Spike, you didn’t have to do this."

Still not opening the box, he nudged her. "Go on now, open it!"

"But...."

"C’mon Slayer. You know you’re dying to know what it is, just open the bloody thing already!"

"But...."

Her words were cut off by his mouth pressing against hers, his tongue probing gently into the moist warmth.

"Open it, luv...."

"I..."

His mouth continued to assault hers with a brutal softness.

"O-pen iiiit...." he sang in a teasing voice.

"Fine! Fine! I give already..." she laughed and pressed in the button. The latch sprang open to reveal a delicate silver chain.

"I know what you’re thinkin’ Slayer and I want you to know I bought this with my own hard earned money."

Buffy didn’t seem to care as she dangled it from her fingers, her mouth pursed into an "O". Pale fingers snatched it from her hand and swiftly linked it around her neck. She reached for the compact in her pocket and viewed it approvingly.

"Fancy it, pet?"

The girl looked at him with tearful eyes, "Very much so. Thank you Spike."

Spike leaned in again for a kiss, this time a bit more greedy, tugging hungrily at her lips. She vocalized her approval with soft moans and ragged breaths. It was hard to restrain himself from shagging her good and proper atop the satin pillows, but he had promised himself that he would be good and give her the "special" gift beforehand.