Part 1

It's Christmas Eve and I'm at the soddin' Watcher's
place, have been for the last forty-five minutes.  It
seems I've been invited for some sort of frickin'
holiday dinner thing.  I'm not sure why I was invited.
 I have a feeling she had something to do with it.  I
seriously doubt any of the others would have even
considered inviting me.

She's not here yet.  I've been sitting on the old
man's couch for almost an hour, listening to the rest
of them chatter on about anything and everything.
Right now they're discussing some movie or such.  I'm
not really sure, but the moron's dancing around the
living room.  At least I think it's supposed to be
dancing.  He's floundering about like a soddin'
trotter.  Anyway, it's really starting to get
bloody-well annoying.  I don't know why I even came in
the first place.  Who am I kidding, I know exactly why
I came.

Sod it all!  I am not going to sit here all night,
listening to them.  I could be back at the crypt
watching a movie; instead I'm here!  Bugger.  I'm
leave... holy shit!  She looks like a goddess.  She
just walked in and is wearing a stretchy form-fitting
turtleneck.  It's black with gold blended in.  The
black trousers are almost form fitting and the entire
outfit shows off her curves.  The dark colors make her
pale skin almost glow, and the gold brings out the
highlights in her crimson hair.  She's got dark green
glittery eye shadow on, making her eyes look like two
perfect emeralds.  The black heels she's wearing are
nearly four inches high and make her legs go on
forever.  I can barely take my eyes off of her, and
any thought of leaving is buried under the
overwhelming desire to drink in her beauty for as long
as bloody possible.

  She's saying something about needing help bringing
things in from her parent's car.  Apparently they're
heading to the airport and don't want to be late for
their flight.  It's just fuckin' amazing that those
wankers would voluntarily spend so little time with
their only daughter.

The moron's going out to help and I want to friggin'
dismember him.  The Slayer's going too, the twat.  I
want to be the one that helps her, who fulfills her
every need and grants her every wish.  But I know
it'll never happen.  I'm a blood-sucking demon, a
killer; she's a goddess.  She's an angel, sweet, pure,
kind, giving; she's everything I'm not.  I want her to
be my goddess, my own personal angel.  Bloody hell!
Listen to me, I'm a fuckin' whipped nancyboy.  But I
can't help it.  Every time she walks into the room I
turn into a pathetic excuse for a man, let alone a
vampire.  I'm even worse than my poof of a sire is.
Xapper and Slutty are back, one carrying two
paper-bags and the other, a large cardboard box.
She's right behind them with a third bag.  She's
telling them to put the stuff down.  Everyone is
getting ready to eat now that she's here.  I watch as
she takes two containers from one of the bags and
takes them into the kitchen.  I'm always surprised at
how bloody graceful she is, especially for a human.
Even now, her slender form seems to glide across the
room.

As they all take their seats around the table, they
remember I'm here for the first time since my arrival.
 I force myself to look away from the kitchen doorway
and adopt the attitude they expect.  I sigh, forcing
unneeded air through dead lungs, and leave my spot on
the couch to approach the table.  I make sure that my
face holds no expression save annoyance and boredom.
I make some rude comment about not wanting to be here
and the Slayer tells me I didn't have to come, and I
tell her to sod off.  I know there is no way I could
have turned down an opportunity to spend an evening
with my scarlet-haired goddess.  Even if it was in the
company of Slutty and her merry band of idiots.  The
only free seat when she returns is the one across from
me and I know I'll have a hell of a time keeping
myself from staring at her all night.

Dinner lasts almost an hour and the Slayer and moron
is on my last nerve.  Demon girl mentioned
disembowelment twice throughout dinner.  I really
think I'm starting to like her.  I don't think the
watcher shares my opinion.  He looks like he's one
ill-timed comment away from getting in his motor and
leaving.

She's said hardly anything all evening.  Everyone
else has finished eating and she's leaving the table
and I'm afraid she's going home, but she just goes
into the kitchen.  She comes back out a minute later
and is carrying the two containers from the bag.  She
opens them and we are greeted with two mouthwatering
chocolate confections.

One is a chocolate cheesecake and the other is a
chocolate pudding pie with a chocolate crumb crust.
I'm surprised when she said that she made them both
earlier in the day.  Xapper goes into the kitchen for
a second to get the whipped cream.  She's serving the
pie and I give her my plate.  The moron says something
about vampires not eating human food and I make a
snide reply that I happen to bloody well like
chocolate.  It's partially true, I do like chocolate,
but I really just want to try what she made.  I even
go so far as cover it with whipped cream, just to
annoy the pillock.  It tastes delicious, not that I'm
surprised.  I doubt anything she's ever done has
turned out less than perfect.

I don't want to be too un-vamp-like and don't take
any of the cheesecake.  This time it's Buffy the Bint
who comments and I snap back that I have to watch my
figure, making sure that the response is dripping with
sarcasm.  I am an evil demon after all, and we
wouldn't want them to think otherwise, would we?  That
would bring up too many friggin' questions I really
don't want to answer any time soon.

Everybody has finished their dessert and the watcher
is clearing the table while her beautiful body is
putting away the leftover food.  The other three are
gathering by the tree, picking out the presents
addressed to them.  I'm sitting on the damn couch
again, somewhat away from everyone.  My eyes follow
her as she goes over and stands with her friends.  She
picks up the presents with her name on them and sits
down with the rest to open them.

The carpet around the tree is strewn with wrapping
paper and ribbon, and everyone is busy thanking each
other for the gifts, and I realize that none of the
ones that were opened were from my angel.  I'm not the
only one who's noticed because Anya asks my witch why
she didn't get anyone anything.  The little wanker
reprimands his girlfriend as my redhead goes over to
the bags she brought with her.  She starts removing
boxes wrapped with brightly-colored paper and the
others join her to receive their packages.  She's
emptied all three of the bags and is telling everyone
that the boxes all have an assortment of cookies that
she made.  They all thank her, but I can tell that
they're as frickin' anxious to see what's in the
cardboard box as I am.  She can tell too, and walks
over to open it as well.  From it she removes five
gaily-wrapped presents.

I watch as they open their gifts and I'm not at all
surprised to see that each one is perfect for its
recipient.  To the watcher she gave an effin' copy of
The Book of Cells, an extremely old historical text of
Irish-Catholic mythology.  It must have cost her a
small fortune to get one so antique.  She probably
could have gotten a new reprint, but the damn man
doesn't seem to have a new copy of anything in his
whole collection.

For the moron she got two tickets to some sold-out
comic book convention.  Anya got ID papers: a birth
certificate, kindergarten, elementary and high school
diplomas, social security number and card, and a
drivers license.  I guess you could say she gave the
former demon an identity and a human past to go with
it.

She gave the Slayer a very nice dagger with a gold
handle that had her initials on it and a leather ankle
sheath.  She also gave Slutty a small wooden box to
keep it in with an inscription on the top.  I'm not
sure what it said, something like, 'for our hero' I
think.

Everyone is preoccupied 'Ohhing' and 'Ahhing' over
the gifts and I'm headed towards the door.  I have to
get the bloody hell out.  I should have left after
dinner, I knew staying would mean standing around,
watching the rest of them.  It's just another reminder
that I'm not wanted or welcome in the close group.
I'm out the door and halfway across the small
courtyard when I hear someone come out after me.
I can't believe what I'm seeing when I turn around.
The biting comment dies on my lips as I see her
standing there.  She's got a box and an envelope in
her hands and I can't think of why.  She's walking
towards me and it's all I can do to keep my feet still
and my expression blank.

She stops a couple feet away and holds out the box.
Her voice is soft and hesitant as she tells me that
she wasn't sure if I ate regular food or not, and so
made me a box of cookies just in case.  I take it from
her and she takes a deep breath before continuing.
Handing me the envelope, she informs me that it's for
me too and wishes me a Merry Christmas before turning
and heading back inside.  I stand there for a minute
or so before I leave the courtyard and make my way to
the park two blocks over.

I'm sitting on a bench in a dark, deserted park,
staring at two bloody packages.  Eventually I set the
box next to me on the bench and turn the envelope over
in my hands several times before opening it.  Inside I
find several sheets of paper stapled together.  As I
read the first page I realize what it is that she's
done.

Somehow she got me, or rather William Thompson, an
account at the friggin' town blood bank.  According to
the letter, I'll have a dozen pints of blood set aside
for me every week.  And not just blood, human blood.
I've been living off of old pig's blood since the damn
chip and the thought of having actual human blood
makes my fuckin' teeth hurt.  All I have to do is go
down and pick them up.  That means that I no longer
have to rely on that cow and her watcher to get it for
me.

I scan over the other two pages and the little witch
floors me for the second time in one evening.  She's
even arranged that if I ever need any additional
blood, I just have to call and the bank will have up
to five pints ready for me in an hour.  I never have
to worry about getting blood when I need extra to
heal.

I'm staring at the street lamp across the street when
I hear the sound of heals on pavement.  Looking down
the street, just past the lamp, I see her approaching
figure.  Picking up my box and stuffing the papers
into my coat pocket, I quickly step into the shadows
of a nearby tree.  When she's a block ahead of me I
start to follow.

I trail her at a safe distance until she reaches her
house.  I then stop and watch as she puts down the bag
she was carrying, unlocks her front door, picks it
back up again and goes into the house, closing and
locking the door behind her.  She must have put the
bag's contents away somewhere in the back of the house
because it's several minutes before the light in her
upstairs bedroom turns on.  Confident that she's safe,
I turn and head back to my dank crypt to absorb my new
independence, courtesy of a beautiful, angelic witch.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

Part 2

I haven't been this nervous since I was human and I
read the poem I had written for that dozy mare.  I
just hope that tonight doesn't turn out the same way.
I'm standing in front of her house, a small box in my
hands.  It's her present, the one I bought for her a
couple weeks ago.  It's taken me that long to get up
the nerve to actually deliver it.  Pretty bloody
pathetic, I know.  I'm a 126 year-old master vampire
and I'm afraid to give a gift to a teenage girl.

I probably shouldn't have gotten the damn thing in
the first place, but I couldn't resist.  I hope the
hell she likes it, at least half as much as I
appreciate the gift she gave me.  I wonder if she
realizes exactly what she gave me.  Does she realize
that by getting me that membership she has given me my
freedom, ended my dependency on her little group?  I
could leave now if I wanted, just pack up and get the
hell out of this bloody town.  I don't need their lot
anymore, with this membership I could get one at any
blood bank in California.  It said so on the flyer
that came with the paperwork; if I were to move
anywhere in the state of California all I would have
to do to obtain membership in the new city is turn in
my proof of membership here and fill out some basic
forms.

My first thought when I saw the flyer last night was
that she had given me my ticket out of here.  And that
got me to thinkin', which in and of itself is not
usually a good thing.  The little chit had to have
known the flyer was in the package she gave me; she
must have known what I would most likely do with the
information.  And that led me to another question.
Did the rest of the gang know what she got me?  I
can't imagine that they'd approve.  The use their
status as my 'supplier' as a way to control me,
wielding it as a virtual leash to keep me in line.  So
why the hell would she give me the friggin' thing,
knowing how her chums would feel, knowing what I would
probably do?  Maybe she wants my peroxide ass outta
town and figures that providing me with a way to take
care of myself somewhere else would be the easiest,
most indirect way of doing it.

The thought that she'd go to such trouble to get me
to leave really fuckin' bothers me, even though it
really shouldn't.  I should be thrilled to be able to
leave this soddin' place.  But I'm not.  I should be
in my motor right now, on my way up the coast to that
little town I visited a decade or so ago with Dru.  I
remember the place was quite the all you can eat, it
being such a big tourist destination and all.  But I'm
not.  I'm standing at the end of her damn front walk,
trying to work up the courage to knock on her effin'
door and hand her a box.  It's bloody pathetic, it is.
 Yet, I can't seem to do a damn thing about it.
I might as well get it the fuck over with, though.
Taking a deep, utterly unnecessary breath, I make my
way to her front door.  She's staying at her parent's
house; got sick of dorm life I guess.  Oh well, it's
better for me, this way I can be a pansy ass and give
her the present without risking my being seen by Buffy
the Bint.  I'm ascending her front steps and am about
to knock on the door when I catch a glimpse of her
through the window.

She's curled up on her couch, a thick book in her
hands, a fire roaring in the fireplace across from
her.  My eyes are glued to the sight of the firelight
playing on her milky white skin and reflecting off of
the golden highlights in her hair.  I saw her in the
sunlight once.  She and the slayer dropped by the
crypt to ask me some question 'bout the newest demon;
or rather the slayer threatened to beat my head in if
I didn't tell her and the witch stood off to the side.
 Anyway, when the slayer burst through my door, Red
followed her in rather slowly.  From my position
against the opposite wall, well away from the rays of
light streaming in, I got the chance to see how the
sun caused her skin to glow and her hair to shine
brightly.  At the time I'd thought her hair looked
like living flame, and now, as I watch her bathed in
the fire's light, I see how right I was in that
deduction.

It's now or never, though, and I pull my eyes from
her delectable form, take the final step to her door,
raise my, and rap twice on the wood in quick
succession.  From the corner of my eye I see her eyes
raise form the novel and shift to the door as a look
of confusion covers her face.  She's obviously not
expecting anyone.  Good.  That means no one's likely
to show up while I'm making a grand fool of myself.  I
could just see Xapper walking up as the big bad gives
the little human a damn Christmas present.  Or is that
Hanukkah?  Or Winter Solstice?

She's such a bloody enigma, my Red is.  Not that
she's mine of course, no matter how much I'd like her
to be.  But she certainly is a contradiction though.
It's one of the things I love most about her.  She'd
keep any bloke on his toes.  If she let herself that
is.  Even before I really started watching her I could
tell that there was more to her than what she allowed
her chums to see.  When I did begin paying real
attention to her, it was obvious that she had many
more facets to her than you'd think.  I'd certainly
enjoy exploring each and every one of them.  But that
ain't gonna happen so there's no use dwelling on it.
She's opening the door now, and I can see the shock
on her face when she sees me standing here.  Hell, I'm
still surprised I'm actually standing here so it's
understandable that she'd find it somewhat unexpected.

"Spike!  Uh, hi.  Um, come, come in."  She's
stuttering in that cute way she has, stepping back so
I can get in the house.  I'm crossing the threshold
before I realize what I'm doing, still absorbing the
fact that she's actually invited me into her home.  I
walk into the living room and stand by the sofa she
had been sitting on.  I'd planned to just hand her the
box and leave so I have no fucking clue what to do.  I
hear the door close and turn to face my red haired
goddess.  I notice her attire for the first time,
taking in the worn boxer shorts that afford a
delicious view of her long legs and the old t-shirt
with its sleeves and a good portion of its length cut
off.  The makeshift alterations were probably made
several years ago as the cut now stops a good
half-inch above the elastic waist of the shorts.  The
soft swell of her stomach peeks out from under the
frayed edge of gray cloth and I force myself not to
stare.  Looking higher is no help, however, since her
hair's been pulled up into a haphazard bun on the top
of her head, leaving the slender column of her throat
bare to my gaze.

I begin glancing around the room before I can bloody
well embarrass myself by staring.  I look over the
small tree in the left corner.  It's decorated
tastefully with small fruits and quartz crystals
suspended by thin wire like icicles.  Sprigs of holly
are placed here and there on the limbs and a garland
of cranberries twists around it along side a single
strand of white lights.  She must of noticed where my
attention was focused 'cause her sweet voice breaks
the silence to inform me that since her family didn't
exactly have any Christmas decorations she'd used
accents more along the lines of what the ancient
pagans would have used on their Yule trees.  As she
speaks, my gaze falls upon the small Menorah on a
table a few feet from the tree.  There she goes with
those bloody contradictions again.

I glance over at her and can tell she's getting ready
to ask me something, probably what the hell I'm doing
at her house.  I'd really rather not have to answer
that particular question, so I blurt out the first
thing that comes to mind as I watch the light from the
flames flicker across her lovely face.  "So, you
burnin' your Yule log or whatever it's called?"  As
the surprise and curiosity take shape in her green
eyes I curse myself for my stupidity.

"No.  Winter Solstice was the 21st.  How did you...?"
I cut her off before she has a chance to finish the
question.  I put as much sarcasm and annoyance in my
voice as possible as I give her a 'well duh' look.  "I
had to read something while I was stuck in that bloody
apartment didn't I?  And it's not like the old man has
anything else to read."  I'm certainly relieved when
she nods her head at the explanation.  I can't have
the chit knowing that I nabbed one of the Watcher's
books on Wicca so as to have some kind of
understanding of the topic that so fascinated her.  I
quickly change the subject, not wanting to give her
any time to think about it.  She's so damn bright
she'd probably figure it out, given the chance.

"Anyway, I just thought I'd stop by and say thanks
for the cookies, they were right delicious."  I reach
into the inner pocket of my duster to extract the box
I put her present in.  It's not wrapped.  It's bad
enough that I'm even giving her the thing, I'm not
about to make it all pretty for her too.  Besides, I'm
a damn vampire; I've never wrapped anything in my
whole bloody life.  It'd probably end up looking like
shit.  I hand her the box and watch the surprise turn
to shock on her face as she takes it from my hand.  "I
heard you lot talking about it the other day and
figured since you got me somethin' I better return the
favor."  She's opening it and I'm waiting to see her
face when she realizes what it is.  About three months
ago the Magic Box got in a new chalice.  It's made of
painted glass and shaped like a champagne flute with
the stem formed of twisting vines with blooming
flowers fanning out to support the base of the bowl
making the cup.  Every time she'd walk past it, she'd
look over at it like it was the most beautiful thing
in the world.  Don't know why she never actually
bought the friggin' thing.  I took it about a month
ago.  I figured I'd have the opportunity to give it to
her sooner or later.  Her gift was just as good of an
excuse as anything else.

I have to keep myself from smiling in triumph as her
whole face lights up as she takes it out of the bed of
tissue it was in.  My eyes follow her fingers as they
softly trace the raised gold pentagram in the center.
I can't help but imagine her running her hands over my
body, stroking it as lovingly as she is now stroking
the fragile glass.  She looks at me and I can tell she
knows exactly where I got it.  I just hope she doesn't
realize how I knew to get it.  Just in case, I shrug
my shoulders and make a 'I really don't care if you
like it or not' face.   "I thought you'd like
something witchy since you're into that kinda stuff.
I swiped it from the watcher's shop last night."  She
looks at me aghast and I can't help but chuckle
softly.  "Don't get your knickers in a twist; I left
the money on the counter."

"Thank you Spike, I love it."

"Good.  I'd hate to think I actually gave the Watcher
and the Queen of Greed money for nothing.  Anyway,
I've got to be going.  I'm sure there's a demon
somewhere in this town that's just beggin' for a
beating.  And I'm just the vamp to give it to 'em."
I'm almost to the door, carefree, bad ass exit nearly
complete when her hesitant voice stops me.

"Um, Spike..."

Turning back around to face her, I lift an eyebrow in
question.  "Yes luv?"

"About the, uh, membership..."

I wave my hand in dismissal.  "Don't worry, I'll keep
getting blood from the watcher like normal.  Wouldn't
want them to find out about my new supply.  They might
go and take it away and while it's still bagged, it's
human and bound to be better than that nasty ass pig's
blood they've been givin' me."  Her next words halt my
repeated attempt to leave.

"You're...staying, then?"

The surprise and hope in her voice practically knocks
me on my bum.  She couldn't possibly want me to stay
if she went to all that trouble to make it so I could,
would, leave.  "The flyer, you put it in there on
purpose, didn't you?"  She nods her head slightly and
I'm even more confused.  She'd obviously expected me
to split, and yet, she seems almost glad that I'm not
going to.  I can't manage to keep the hurt from my
voice as I look at her.  "You wanted me to leave."  I
say it more to myself than to her but she shakes her
head so hard I think it might fly off her shoulders.
"No, I...I just...You just seem so miserable here,
and you obviously can't stand any of us."

Fuck.  Is that disappointment in her voice?  Hurt?
Of course I can't stand any of them.  Well, except for
her, but why the hell would she care whether or not I
could stand her?  Unless...no, there's no effin' way.
Is there?

"I just thought that you'd be happier, away from
here, away from us."

Shit.  Her voice fucking dropped on that last bit.
She's really bothered by my hating them, hating her.
As if my hating her was even possible.  But I'm her
enemy right?  Why the fuck does she care if I hate
her?  I couldn't possibly be that damn lucky.  It just
doesn't happen, my life is not that easy.  Is it?
Crap, now I'm all confused.  How the fuck does she do
that?  No one can do that to me, at least not more
than once.  But her sweet little ass manages it on a
semi-regular basis.

"Of course I can't stand your lot.  Tying me in a
bathtub and using my inability to feed against me
every fuckin' chance possible didn't exactly make me
wanna be their bestest friend."  Her face is falling
again and she looks like I just killed her puppy.  I
know I shouldn't say anything more but I can't stand
to see her look like that.  "You're the only one I can
stand, let alone like."  Her eyes widen at the
revelation and her mouth falls open just a bit.  I'm
really going to get myself staked one of these days if
I can't keep my damn gob shut.

"You, you...like...me?"

"Well, yeah.  You always brought me blood that was
actually warm, you never actually chained me up, and
you can actually carry on an intelligent
conversation."  Plus you're bloody gorgeous, and
sweet, and smart, and funny, and interesting,
and...shit, what the hell is this, mental ode to
Willow?  I'm such a damn poof.

"Oh, right."  There's that disappointment again.

"But, if you are so miserable, why aren't you going?
I mean, sure, you like me,-" Her voice just trembled.
I heard it, it fucking trembled.  "-but, wouldn't you
rather be somewhere else?"

Damn it!  She's standing there, looking all insecure
and adorable.  How the hell am I supposed to stand
here and not tell her how I feel, not push her up
against the wall and kiss those sweet lips until she
can no longer breathe?  I can't.  I just bloody well
can't do it.  "Oh, bugger!"

I'm making my way to her, my movements predatory as I
focus in on my prey.  She's startled by my sudden
approach and I can tell she doesn't quite know what to
make of the hungry look that must be covering my face.
 She's backing up slowly, and I'm practically upon her
as her back collides with the wall behind her.  Her
pulse is pounding in my ears, getting faster and
faster as the slightest sent of fear reaches my
nostrils.  She's not really scared of me though, I can
tell.  The fear is just barely detectable, but the
excitement, the anticipation, rolls off of her in
waves.  And on the undercurrent of those waves is the
one scent I've tried to imagine a thousand times: the
sweet, musky aroma of her arousal.

I lean forward, only stopping when my face is inches
from hers.  "You really want to know why I'm not
leaving this damn town?  You really want to know
what's keeping me here, why I wouldn't rather be
somewhere else?"  My voice has dropped and I can hear
the huskiness of it myself as her delectable scent
grows stronger, her breath coming faster as I put a
hand on either side of her head, trapping her against
the wall with my body without actually touching her.
She nods her head almost imperceptivity and I know
I'll never get another chance at this.  I press up
against her, pushing her into the wall as my mouth
descends upon hers.  I can feel her breasts rubbing
against my chest through our shirts and it's obvious
she's not wearing a bra.  She returns the kiss with
equal fervor, her hands burying themselves in my hair
and holding me to her.

My hands move of their own volition, reaching between
us to cup her pert breasts through the cotton of her
top.  A low moan sweeps into my mouth and I pull away
slightly to let her breathe, my lips traveling down
her throat instead.  I can't bare to let her remain
obscured by the gray cotton and release her round
globes to tear the shirt down the middle and toss it
over my shoulder as I immediately take a rose colored
nipple into my cool mouth, worrying it until it is
hard and extended.  Her hands are shoving at my duster
and I shrug it off, letting it fall to the floor as I
move to lap at her other nipple.  I can feel her warm
little hands, slipping under my shirt and running over
my back and up to my shoulders where her grip tightens
and her nails dig into my flesh as I nip at the
underside of a pert breast.  Her moans are growing
louder now and I'm getting harder by the second as she
bucks up against me.  Her passionate responses are
almost more than I can stand, causing my cock to push
painfully at the restraining denim of my jeans.

"Spike, please.  Oh, oh, shit.  Now, Spike.  Uh, yes,
oh, please."

I can't control myself any longer and I reach down,
ripping her shorts and panties from her body then
undoing my pants and pushing them down to free my cock
and balls.  My free hand cups her lovely ass, lifting
her so she can wrap her long legs around me.  When she
does I don't hesitate to sheath myself in her hot
core.  I'd forgotten how hot humans were until this
moment and it's almost overwhelming.  A guttural moan
tumbles from her lips with each thrust and I am not
being much quieter.  Her nails are clawing at my back
beneath my shirt and I pull it over my head without
braking pace.  She smiles at me before her eyes fall
shut and her head rolls back against the wall.
She's meeting each and every thrust, bucking up,
grinding her mound against my coarse hair and gripping
me so tightly with her hot velvety walls that I know I
won't last much longer.  Her cries are increasing in
volume and I can tell she's approaching climax.  My
hand delves between her outer lips to pinch and twist
her swollen clit.  My name spills from her lips as her
body tenses and writhes uncontrollably beneath me.
It's the sound of my name that pushes me over edge,
and with two hard thrusts, I spill myself within her
still quivering pussy.

As her breathing begins to return to normal, I tuck
the loose, sweaty strands of her hair behind her ears
and gaze down into her beautiful face.  "I want you,
Willow, I love you.  That's why I won't, why I can't
leave."  I had never planned to tell her the truth,
but I'd never planned to take her against a wall in
her parent's living room either so it doesn't bloody
mater now does it?  The smile that forms on her lips
makes a strange warmth settle in the pit of my
stomach.

"I love you too, Spike.  I shouldn't, I know, but I
do."  At her words, I feel an answering grin spread
across my face and I lean in to capture her lips in a
slow, yet incredibly passionate kiss.  I pull away,
gather her sated form in my arms and ascend the
stairs, following her directions to her room.  Once
we're both situated beneath her navy sheets I pull her
to me, needing to feel her against me, to assure
myself that this evening was not just another dream.
I'm about to drift off when her quiet voice breaks the
silence.  "Happy holidays Spike."  I grin down at her
in the dark and hug her a little tighter.

"They are now, luv."

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