Bouncing Back

By SpikedLuv

Bounce
Performed By: Bon Jovi
Written By: Jon Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora, Billy Falcon

I been knocked down so many times
Counted out, 6, 7, 8, 9
Written off like some bad deal
If you're breathing you know how it feels
Call it karma, call it luck
Me, I just don't give a

Bounce, bounce
Nothing's gonna keep me down
Bounce, bounce
Stand up, shout it out
Bounce, bounce
I play hard, I play to win
Count me out, count me in
I'll be bouncing back again

This ain't no game; I play it hard
Kicked around, cut, stitched and scarred
I'll take the hit, but not the fall
I know no fear, still standing tall
You can call it karma, call it luck
Me, I just don't give a

Bounce, bounce
Nothing's gonna keep me down
Bounce, bounce
Stand up, shout it out
Bounce, bounce
I play hard, I play to win
Count me out, count me in
I'll be bouncing back again
Bounce

Bring it on, I like it rough
In your face, I call your bluff
It ain't karma, it ain't luck
Me, I just don't give a

Bounce, bounce
Nothing's gonna keep me down
Bounce, bounce
Stand up, shout it out
Bounce, bounce
I play hard, I play to win
Count me out, count me in
I'll be bouncing back again

Bounce, bounce
Nothing's gonna keep me down
Bounce, bounce
Stand up, shout it out
Bounce, bounce
I play hard, I play to win
Count me out, count me in
I'll be bouncing back again

Bounce, bounce
Bounce, bounce
Bounce, bounce
Bounce, bounce
Bounce

Part One

Spike felt his lips curl back as his true face emerged and a growl issued from his throat. That bitch. That bloody bitch! He'd fallen in love with her; he'd helped her and her band of goody goodies fight the good fight, even after she was dead; he'd been there for her when she needed someone to talk to after her friends pulled her out of heaven; he'd been there for her when she needed someone to beat on, someone to make her feel something...anything.

Three nights ago, he'd taken care of that woman's body so she didn't have to go to the police. He'd have done anything for her...and this is how she repaid him! He felt the back of his head, which was almost healed now, but the tender skin reminded him how much he hated that bitch now. And how he was going to repay her.

He walked over to the bed and lay down next to the still form of the woman...girl? No, he looked her over, running his hand over her bare breasts and down to her stomach, she was definitely a woman. And she was his now. The Slayer would be sorry she'd used him and treated him so poorly.

He was the big bloody bad! A master vampire! He would not be her pet vampire any longer. You could knock him down, but he'd always come back. Bigger 'n badder than before!

He'd been paralyzed when the stupid bint had dropped a burning organ on him, and lived through months of Angelus tormenting him and taking Drusilla away from him, but he'd healed and gotten his own back on his soddin' sire. Then Dru had left him, twice, because of his pact with the Slayer to stop Angelus from ending the world. Sure, he'd been heartbroken, she *was* his dark princess for over a hundred years after all, but he'd moved on.

Then he'd been chipped, unable to hunt, to feed, and been forced to turn to the Slayer and her rotten Scooby gang for help. He'd fought against the chip, doing everything he could think of to get it removed, and when that hadn't worked, he'd adjusted. If there was one thing Spike was, it was smart, and he knew how to make the best of a bad situation. Then he'd gone and fallen in love with the bloody Slayer, just like his poof of a sire!
Maybe not as smart as he thought, that. And what had the Slayer done? Used him. She came to him when she needed relief, when she needed to forget. And then she hated him, and herself, for her weakness. And that last night, two nights night ago, she'd almost killed him. Yes, welcome to my world, he thought.

He could take the physical beating, he was a vampire, after all, but it was her words...her words that had done him in.

She'd told him he didn't have a soul. Well, no shit! That there was nothing good or clean in him. Hello, demon! That he was dead inside, that he couldn't feel anything real! Stupid bint was wrong about that. He could love. He'd loved Drusilla for over one hundred years. He'd loved his bastard of a sire, before he left him. Then she'd put the nail in his coffin, so-to-speak, when she told him she could never be his girl.

She'd said things like this before, called him an evil, disgusting thing, but this time...this time he believed her. He was nothing to her, and she would never be his. Then she'd left him there in the alley to live or die on his own. Well, she'd learn all about evil, disgusting things, he thought with a humorless smirk. He ran his hand through the woman's hair, brushing it back from her face, then traced the bite mark on her neck...the mark that would remain for the rest of her unlife.

He couldn't wait for her to wake up. She would be the perfect childe...the perfect mate. She had always seemed so...good...but she had darkness in her, and together, they would make the Slayer pay.

She stirred under his hand and Spike watched her eyes. They opened, and immediately turned to him. Green eyes shifted to amber and her true face appeared.

"Sire? Hungry," she growled.

"Of course you are, Childe," Spike smiled at her. He knew she needed to feed, to assuage the aching hunger in her gut, but he wanted her to taste his blood first. He wanted her to know who she belonged to, who she was bound to.

With his eyes on hers, he drew his nail across his throat. He watched her eyes widen as blood welled-up from the cut. She licked her lips, and let them curl back in a feral snarl. Spike got his first look at her fangs...and they were magnificent. He grabbed her head and pulled her to him.

"Drink from me, Childe," he commanded. "Just drink, do not bite."

She grabbed his shoulders, closed her lips over the already healing wound, and sucked. She used her tongue to keep the cut open, and Spike thought he was going to cum from the sensation of her tongue and lips on his neck. It had been so long since he'd been drunk from.

"Enough, Childe," he finally, regretfully, pulled away from her. "I knew you'd be hungry when you woke, so I brought you dinner," Spike pointed toward the corner of the bedroom and she followed his finger with her eyes.

Spike knew the moment she realized there was a heartbeat in the room, the moment she smelled the blood flowing through the woman's veins. She crawled to the edge of the bed and sniffed, then smiled happily, and Spike smiled with her. Yes, she would be perfect.

She climbed off of the bed and Spike watched her stalk over to the cowering, frightened woman, who was screaming around the gag in her mouth.

"She smells delicious," she said.

"It's the fear," Spike said, "it's like an aphrodisiac. She'll taste wonderful, too."

Before he finished speaking, she grabbed the woman and pulled her to her feet. With little finesse, she bit into the woman's throat, worrying it like a wild animal as she drank. Spike watched the fear in the woman's eyes dim as her struggles ceased and her heartbeat slowed, then stopped.

His childe dropped the body where she stood and turned to look at him with blood stained lips. Spike rose from the bed and walked over to her. He grabbed her hair and tilted her head back, then licked her lips clean. He was still hard from her suckling at his neck, and watching her drain her first meal had been arousing.

"Change," he ordered, then watched her confusion as she tried to change back into her human face. As soon as she had, he leaned down and captured her lips, shoving his tongue in her mouth and kissing her. His hand still in her hair, he forced her to her knees.

"Suck me," he commanded, and she immediately ran her tongue over his bulbous cock head, then took him into her mouth. She sucked hard on the tip as her tongue teased the ridge of skin around it, and Spike thought he was going to cum right then. He'd never pictured this woman on her knees in front of him, and the sight of it, the feel of her, made his balls tighten.

And then she was taking him all the way in, her lips covering his shaft as her tongue laved the underside. Her nose was bumping against him as she deep-throated him. His head touched the back of her throat and she swallowed around him.

Fuck! Where had she learned that? He had no time for any other thoughts, he groaned as his cock contracted and he shot his spunk into her mouth and down her throat. She swallowed his cum, then licked her lips in satisfaction. She sat back on her heels and looked up at him with a pleased smile.

Spike gripped her hair angrily and pulled her to her feet. She'd pleasured him and she knew she had power. He had to remind her that he was the boss, he was her sire. The only power she had was the power he gave her. He dragged her over to the bed, and let go of her as he lay down on his back in the middle of the bed.

"Make me hard again," he demanded.

She ran her eyes over his body, and smiled again. She crawled onto the end of the bed and began to place wet kisses on his leg. She kissed up one leg and down the other, avoiding his cock and balls. When she'd reached the bottom of his foot, she crawled up him and began on his stomach, nipping and licking from one side to the other, dipping her tongue into his belly button, and watching his muscles bunch when she found a ticklish spot.

Then she crawled up further, licking and sucking his nipples and chest, then further, to his neck. She licked and sucked the healed skin where he had made the cut for her to drink from him, and the memory of it made him harder than he could imagine. Then she was kissing him, and her fingers were wrapped around him, stroking, pulling, her thumb rubbing his tip.

His hips bucked. Bloody hell, she was amazing! But he didn't want to cum in her hand, he wanted to cum inside her. This was a lesson, after all. He pushed her away from him and she whimpered. He ignored her and rolled to his knees.

"On your hands and knees," he commanded, and she immediately complied. He ran his hands over her round, firm buttocks, then shoved two fingers into her. She screamed as he entered her without regard for her pleasure.

Bloody hell, she was so tight! And she was wet, soaking wet. He pulled his fingers out of her, grabbed her hips, and drove his cock into her. She screamed again. He ignored her, thrusting into her with abandon. And then she was shoving herself back onto him, taking him deeper. He groaned, then remembered the lesson.

"Who am I?" he asked as he drove into her.

"Spike!" she cried.

"*Who* am I?" he asked again, slapping her buttock sharply.

"Ahh, sire!" she cried.

"Say it again," he demanded.

"Sire!" she screamed as he rammed into her.

"Don't ever forget that," he growled.

"I won't, Sire, I won't," she cried. "Please...please...do that again!"

"This?" he rammed into her again.

"No! Well, yes, but the other, the other!" she cried as his cock slammed into her pleasure spot.

"What...?" Spike's eyes shone. "This?" he brought his hand down sharply on her ass.

"Yessss!" she screamed as he slapped her again. "Yes! Oh, fuck, Sire, I'm gonna cum, Sire, please!"

"No!" he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up onto her knees. "You don't cum until I tell you to." His hips bucked as he pistoned his cock into her tight hole. He felt his balls filling.

"Do you know why I took you like this?" he asked.

"Because it feels amazing?" she panted.

"No!" he pulled her hair, tilting her head and exposing her neck. "To remind you that you are nothing more than an animal. An evil, disgusting thing, just like me."

He felt his balls tighten and knew he was going to cum. He morphed, and just before he sank his fangs into her neck, growled, "Cum."

He drew the borrowed blood out of her as he pumped his cold seed into her. He felt her body stiffen, then jerk, as her own orgasm ripped through her. Spent, they fell to the bed, Spike still encased in her tight hole.

After taking a couple of minutes to recover, Spike pulled out of her.

"Come on, Red," he said, "we need to take a shower, get cleaned up. Still need to take you out and show you how to hunt tonight."

Willow rolled in his arms so that she was facing him. She ran her hand over his face, now healed, down his throat to his chest, and down further to his stomach.

"You're not disgusting," she said, "and you're not a thing. You're beautiful...Sire," she leaned in and kissed him.

Bloody hell, he had to be the luckiest demon on the planet, he thought. Oh, yes, the Slayer would learn that nothing could keep him down. She'd fucked with his mind, but he'd bounce back, alright. He and his childe would rule Sunnydale.

Part Two

Spike smiled to himself as he watched his childe get dressed in the clothes he'd picked up for her the night before. That clerk hadn't been the best tasting snack he'd ever had, but she'd served her purpose of being Willow's first meal after she woke. It was going to take him a while to get the taste of pig's blood out of his mouth, but the taste of his childe's powerful blood had gone a long way toward doing that.

As she pulled on the black leather pants, black boots, and sapphire blue lycra top, Spike thought back to the night before. The night he'd sired his first childe.

Willow had been walking home from the Magic Box when Spike came upon her. He'd laughed to himself, unable to believe his luck. He wanted to punish the Slayer, and here was the perfect opportunity. He'd kill the little witch and leave her body on the Slayer's doorstep for her to find after patrol. It was a beautiful plan.

"Red," he greeted her.

"Spike!" he heard Willow's heart jump a little, and she sounded surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just looking for some...thing to kill," he placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it. The faint glow from the flame illuminated his face and Willow gasped.

"Goddess, Spike, what happened to your face?" she asked, reaching out to gently touch him. He was torn between snarling at her and pulling away, and letting her touch him. In the end, he figured it would serve his plans to let her touch him.

He didn't know what his face looked like, but it must be bad, from the look on her face.

"Pissed someone off," he tried to make light of his injuries.

"When?" she asked.

"Last night," he said, taking a drag off of his cigarette as if it didn't matter.

"And it still looks like this?" she exclaimed.

Spike just raised his eyebrows and Willow blushed.

"I just meant...it must have been pretty bad to still look this...bad, now," she finished lamely. "Did you put anything on it?" she asked solicitously.

"Vampire, Red," he reminded her with a toothy smile. He saw Willow's nervous reaction and gave another genuine smile. Yeah, he was still the big bad.

"Why don't you come with me and let me clean those up for you," Willow suggested, the mother hen in her kicking in.

Spike was just about to vehemently deny that he needed her to fix him up when he realized that she was playing right into his hands with her bloody scooby sympathy.

"Nice of you to offer, Red," he said, trying to sound like he'd really like to take her up on her offer, "but I don't think I'd be welcome in the Slayer's house." He looked down at the ground as he took another drag off of the cigarette, glancing up at her through his eyelashes to see if she was buying his act. Her brow was furrowed as she studied the top of his bent head.

"You guys fighting again?" she asked sympathetically.

"Ha," Spike snorted. "You could say that," he said suggestively.

"Wha...you mean *Buffy* did this to you?" her voice was full of indignant disbelief. "Why would she...she knows you can't fight back!"

Spike didn't disabuse her of that notion. Truth is, he hadn't fought back. Hadn't wanted to fight back. Had enjoyed her decent into the darkness. Until she had told him she'd never be his girl. That he didn't have a soul. That there was nothing good or clean in him. That he was dead inside, that he couldn't feel anything real.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the memories. She'd said things like this before, that he was an evil, disgusting thing, but this time...this time, he believed her. She never would love him. And she'd pay for making him love her.

"Slayer's not known for her restraint," he replied simply.

"Spike," Willow reached out and lightly brushed her thumb over his split lip. Spike felt an electric charge that startled him and made him miss her next words.

"What?" he pulled away from her touch.

"I said, please let me clean these up," she repeated. Spike was already shaking his head 'no' before she'd even finished talking. "Not at Buffy's," she put her hand on his arm, "at my parents' house."

"Your...," Spike was almost speechless at the way things were coming together. "Are they home?" he asked.

Willow gave a little laugh.

"They're never home," she said wryly.

"Well," Spike said, still sounding unconvinced, "if you're sure...,"
"Of course, I'm sure," Willow grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her. The little witch was in her element, taking care of someone.

Spike pinched out his cigarette and tossed it on the ground. He allowed Willow's hand to remain on his arm, and obediently, though with a great show of reluctance, followed her.

When they arrived at her parents' house, Willow unlocked the door and invited Spike in. He looked up at her from under his lashes as if he was surprised, and pleased, that she had granted him access to her home. In point of fact, he actually was a little surprised that she so easily issued the invitation. And he was very pleased.

This was almost too easy, he thought. And she deserved it, he growled to himself. She wasn't afraid of him at all. Not one little bit. Stupid bint.

"What's wrong?" Willow asked when she heard him growl.

"Nothing," Spike snarled, still mad at her for not being afraid of him.

"Then stop being all snarly and come into the bathroom," she plucked at his sleeve. "And take your coat off."

"Aren't you even a little bit afraid of me?" he growled, morphed into vamp face, and flashed amber eyes and fang at her.

"Uh, well," Willow stammered, "sort of, when you get all growly, like that," she pointed at his demonic visage.

"Yeah?" Spike smiled, breathing deeply, catching a faint scent of fear. "But just a little?" he asked.

"Well, it's just, knowing you can't hurt me sort of reduces the fear factor," she explained. "It's nothing personal."

"Right," Spike resumed his human mask and took off his duster, tossing it over the banister.

"Um, bathroom?" Willow waved her hand behind her.

"Lead on, Red," he said.

Willow led him to the bathroom and seated him on the closed toilet cover. She got the first aid kit out and set it on the sink, then tilted Spike's head back so she could better see the cuts on his face.

Spike growled and involuntarily jerked his head when Willow's fingers encountered the injury on the back of his skull.

"What?" Willow asked worriedly.

"Nothing," he said, "go on."

"Spike, wha...?" she paused when she saw a trace of blood on her fingers. She grabbed his hair and tilted his head forward.

"Ow, you bloody bint!" he yelled as Willow manhandled him. She ignored his outburst as she examined the back of his head.

"Oh, my god," she breathed as she pushed strands of bloody hair away from the wound. "What happened?" she asked as she rested Spike's head against her stomach so she could use both hands.

"Did Buffy do this, too?" she asked indignantly when Spike didn't answer her.

"What do you think, Red?" he asked. The back of his head was still a little sore, but it faded to the back of his mind as he pressed his forehead against Willow's stomach and breathed in her scent.

"I need to clean this off," she said. "Kneel by the tub."

"What?" he jerked his head out of her hands and looked over at the tub. "I'm not leaning over the tub!"

"The sink's too small," Willow said reasonably. "We have to use the tub, come on," she knelt beside the tub and turned the water on, adjusting the temperature.

"Come on," Willow filled a cup with water and motioned to the blond vampire to join her.

Spike rolled his eyes, then knelt beside the tub.

"Lean over," Willow put her hand on the back of his neck and applied gentle pressure. Spike leaned over the tub.

"Now, drop your head," she instructed. Spike dropped his head and Willow gently poured the water over his head, trying to clean the blood off.

"The blood is dried into your hair," she said, almost as if she was talking to herself, "I'm going to have to wash it."

She wet all of his hair with the cup, then reached for the shampoo. She squirted some into her hand and lathered it up before gently applying it to his head.

Spike closed his eyes and relaxed as Willow gently massaged the shampoo through his hair, her fingers magical on his scalp. He stiffened a little as she paid special attention to the blood-encrusted strands. Then she was rinsing her hands and pouring more water over his head to rinse the shampoo out.

"Don't move," she said after she squeezed most of the water out of his hair, "I just need to grab a towel."

Willow stood and got a hand towel from the cupboard, then leaned against the tub and gently dried Spike's hair, trying not to reopen the broken skin on the back of his head.

"Stay there," Willow said when she was done. She stood and walked over to the sink. Spike turned his head to see what she was doing and watched her pour some hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball.

She stepped up behind him and pushed his head down, separated his hair, and dabbed the cotton ball against his scalp.

"Hey, careful there!" Spike said. She hadn't hurt him, he just felt the need to complain. He was the big bad, after all, she couldn't just push him about like that.

"Be quiet, you big baby," she replied as she squeezed some antibacterial ointment onto her finger and rubbed it onto his scalp.

"Okay," she straightened and wiped her finger on the towel, "sit back up here."

"Yes, mom," Spike said as he rose to his feet and sat back down on the toilet seat.

"Okay," she looked at his face. "Wow!"

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing," she blushed. Her hands fluttered in front of his face before she finally finger-combed his hair away from his face.

Spike breathed deeply when he noticed an increase in her heart rate. Willow's scent, vanilla and cinnamon, along with something else, something...musky...filled his senses. Spike watched Willow carefully. Was she aroused?

Without speaking, Willow got a washcloth out. She wet it with warm water, then tipped Spike's head back and wiped his face off. When she was done, she poured some hydrogen peroxide on another cotton ball.

"That's not gonna hurt, is it?" Spike asked.

"What happened to, 'I'm a vampire, grr'?" Willow retorted.

"I only like some kinds of pain, luv," Spike smirked, watching as Willow blushed again.

"Quiet," she admonished as she stood next to him and dabbed the cotton ball on the cuts that covered his face. They had already started to close, so Willow knew that she was probably doing no good. Heck, he was a vampire, this was all probably a waste of time anyway, she thought as she dropped the cotton ball in the garbage and picked up the tube of ointment.

Spike reached out and grabbed the back of her legs, pulling her to stand between his.

"Spike," she protested, as she tried to squeeze the ointment out of the tube.

"Cor, you smell good," he buried his face against her stomach and breathed deeply.

"S-Spike, wh-what are you doing?" she asked nervously, her hand going to his head to push it away from her stomach.

"Even better than I remembered," he said.

"What?" her fingers tangled in his hair and she dropped the tube.

"You want me," he said.

"No!" she denied, finding the strength of will to push him away from her and take a step back. "I don't," she added for good measure.

"I can smell your desire, luv," he stood.

Willow took another step back, and backed into the wall.

"I can make you feel so good," he said.

"No! You can't hurt me," Willow side-stepped toward the doorway, then turned and ran out of the bathroom and down the hall toward the front door. "You can't hurt me, you can't hurt me," she chanted as she ran.

Spike breathed deeply, then closed his eyes and smiled. Finally...fear.

Part Three

Spike slapped his hand against the front door before Willow could pull it open. He pressed his body against her back, trapping her between himself and the door.
"Spike," she was breathing heavily, the delectable scent of her fear perfuming the air, "what are you doing? You can't hurt me...the chip...,"

"Then why are you so afraid?" he breathed in deeply again, letting her know he was scenting her fear and enjoying it.

"You-you're acting all, grr, and...but you can't hurt me," she finished, almost prayerfully.

"Not gonna hurt, luv," he purred as he licked her neck. His hands ran down her arms and Willow shivered. Spike took a step back and quickly twirled her around, pushing her back against the door, and dropping to his knees before her. He lifted her shirt and pressed his lips against her stomach, his hands resting on her waist.

"No, Spike, oh, goddess," Willow's protest turned into a moan of pleasure as he kissed and licked her stomach. The hands she had pressed against his head to push him away, now pulled him to her, her fingers tangling in hair that turned wavy as it dried.

He breathed deeply. He couldn't get enough of her scent. The cinnamon and vanilla; the heady scent of her fear; and the musky scent of her arousal. Oh, yes, her blood would taste delicious, like the finest wine.

He ran his hands up her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts, then grazing his thumbs over her nipples before slowly sliding his hands around to cup her breasts. Willow, in a fleeting moment of clarity, grabbed his hands as if to halt their movement.

"Spike, what are you...this is wrong!" she insisted as she looked down at him, her hands doing nothing but resting upon his as he gently squeezed and kneaded her breasts.

"It always is," he mocked.

"Wrong," she moaned as she let her head fall back against the door.

"But it feels so *good*," he drawled, pinching her nipples as he shoved the waistband of her skirt down with his chin so he could lick and suck her sensitive belly button. Willow closed her eyes tighter, and let him.

He could almost feel her capitulation like a physical thing. He dropped his hands to her waistband and undid the first button, then the second. Willow made a feeble attempt to stop him, then grabbed his shoulders for support as he slid the skirt down her legs and helped her step out of it. He pushed her shirt up and Willow obediently grabbed the hem and lifted it over her head.

He ran his eyes over her hungrily. She wore a black, lace bra through which her dark, pebbled nipples peeked, a matching pair of black, lace panties, and a pair of black ankle boots. He reached down and unzipped her boots, then pulled them and her socks off of her feet when she lifted them.
Then he sat back on his heels and pulled Willow down onto his lap so that she straddled his legs, his now-straining cock pressing against her mound.

"Ohh...my god," she moaned as he grabbed her ass and pressed her against him. Her arms went around his shoulders and she placed a light kiss upon his neck. Then she was licking and sucking his neck, her hand digging into his scalp, unmindful of his injury, as his hands on her hips urged her to ride his erection. She groaned as her clit came into contact with the head of his cock, again, and again.

"Spike," she moaned his name.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"Spi-ike," she whimpered.

"Tell me what you want," he insisted. "You wanna cum?" he whispered in her ear. "You want me to make you cum?"

"Ye-es-ss," she hissed, as she pressed herself against him. "Please, Spike," she hesitated for only a moment, "please make me cum, oh, goddess, please!"

And since she begged so nicely, he did. He reached between them and ripped her panties off, then pressed his fingers against her. The good little witch was just as wet as she smelled, he smirked to himself as he slid one finger inside her, then two.

Willow's hips bucked against his hand as he entered her. He bent his fingers and pressed them against her wall as she rode his hand, the heel of his hand pressing against her clit. She was so tight; he felt her walls adjust around his fingers. She was so wet...and warm; her juices were seeping out of her, wetting his hand, his jeans.

She was so different from the Slayer, who'd already have him on his back, fucking him like there was no tomorrow, squeezing him so tightly he thought she'd rip him off. Not that he hadn't liked that.

Willow was mewling incoherently against his neck. Her body tensed, and he could feel her muscles gripping his fingers as she came. He felt her warm, honeyed juices gush over his hand. He withdrew, and before her muscles had finished wringing her orgasm out of her, she was on her back, and he was on his belly between her legs, his face buried in her.

"Spi-ike!" she screamed at the first touch of his tongue against her.

"Oh, god, oh, god, don't stop!" her heels were on the floor, pressing herself into his face. Her fingers gripped his hair, dug into his scalp as she held him to her. Her back bowed until she was resting her weight on her heels and shoulders.

"Spike, Spike, Spike," she chanted as he licked and sucked her, lapping at her slit, shoving his tongue inside her, sucking on her clit, until she was cuming again, coating his face with her juices.

"Argh!" she cried wordlessly as her muscles tensed and her orgasm ripped through her.

He drank her juices, then looked up at her, his chin wet with her release. Willow's hands went to his shoulders and she pulled him to her. She ran her hands over his back as she eagerly licked her essence off of his chin, then kissed him.

She tugged on his t-shirt and he grabbed the hem and pulled it over his head. Willow groaned when she caught sight of his naked chest. She sat up and hungrily ran her hands over him as she kissed his shoulders, chest. He climbed to his knees and straddled her legs.

Her lips moved lower until she was licking and sucking his nipples. He held her head to his chest, then reached behind her and unclasped her bra. He pushed it off of her shoulders, then grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and kissed her, hard, desperate.

Willow moaned into his mouth and he lifted his head.

"I want to be inside you," he breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling with unnecessary breaths. Willow moaned, and her fingers were on his waistband, unbuttoning, unzipping. He let go of her hair and they both looked down to watch her hands.

His hard cock popped out of his jeans. Willow made a sound low in her throat as she took him in her hands. He watched her touch him, examine him, until the feel of her warm hands was too much.

He pushed her hands away and stood up. He shoved his jeans down, then struggled with his boots. Willow got onto her knees and helped him untie them, then he kicked the boots off, followed by his jeans, until he stood naked before her.

Willow moaned again and reached for him. He fell to his knees and pulled her bra off of her, then spread her legs and climbed between them. With one hand on her back, he lowered her to the floor, her soft breasts pressing against his hard chest.

With his eyes locked on hers, he positioned his head against her, then slowly pressed in. Willow's eyes rolled back in her head and she clutched at his back as he filled her. He lowered his lips to her neck, licked and sucked her pulse point, scenting the blood flowing just below the surface, as he held still, waiting for her to adjust to him.

"Spike," she whimpered, and he pulled back and drove into her.

"Spike!" she screamed, wrapping her legs around his waist, digging her nails into his back, as he drove into her again, and again.
She was so tight around him. So warm. So wet for him. Long before he was ready, he felt his balls tighten, the muscles in his ass clench, and his cock contracted as he pumped his release into her. Willow cried out as he emptied himself into her, and came again.

He fell on top of her, spent, and felt her legs slip off of his waist. Cor, he'd never imagined the heat he'd find between Willow's legs. The need, the desire. He knew there was some darkness, she'd gotten involved with the dark mojo, after all. He wondered how far she'd go.

He crawled to his knees and climbed up her body, straddling her shoulders, his softening cock pressing against her lips.

"Clean me off," he commanded.

Willow looked at him with wide green eyes, then opened her mouth and took him in. No dainty little licks for Willow, he thought, as she engulfed his cock with her mouth, then licked and sucked him clean.

"Bloody hell!" he cried out as he grew hard in her mouth, barely resisting the urge to fuck her mouth. When he could take it no longer, he pulled out of her. Slipping off of her, he rolled to his back, pulled Willow on top of him and up his body until she was straddling him. Without any further urging, she lifted herself, placed his head at her entrance, then lowered herself onto him.

He couldn't get used to her heat. It felt like she was burning him. Had the Slayer, stupid bint, ever been this hot? This soft and curvy? He trailed his hands over her breasts, down to her stomach, and around to cup her ass.

Willow placed her hands on his chest and rode him with wild abandon. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her breasts bouncing temptingly. He grabbed her hips and bucked his own, meeting her on her downward thrust. Willow's eyes shot open and her mouth formed a silent 'O' of surprise.

He pumped into her as she rode him, until his demon demanded more. He pulled her down to him, then rolled them, and drove into her. He fucked her like a wild animal, hard and fast, until they both came. He morphed and sank his fangs into her neck, drawing her blood out of her.

Bloody hell! She tasted wonderful. *Better* than the finest wine. Her blood was filled with power, darkness, and desire.

"No, Spike!" she struggled, until another orgasm hit them both. Spike continued sucking until Willow was lying quiet and compliant beneath him. He lifted his head and Willow's eyes went to his blood-stained lips.

"The...chip?" she asked faintly.

"Slayer took care of that, last time she slammed my head on the ground," he smiled down at her. "Hurt like hell when it shorted out," he mused, "but it's all better now. Gonna have to think of some way to thank her for that."

"No, Spike," Willow said again, as a tear slipped out of her eye and ran down her temple and into her hair.

"Oh, hey, now, none of that," Spike wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb.

"I don't want to die, Spike," her fingers clutched weakly at his arms, her words were slurred.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I'll take care of you. You're not going to die, you're going to live...forever," he lowered his lips to her neck and drank until he heard her heart slow to the point of almost stopping. He withdrew his fangs and slit his wrist on them.

He placed his wrist at her mouth, but Willow stubbornly kept her lips closed, staring at him with slitted eyes full of betrayal. He forced her lips open and let his blood run into her mouth. Willow automatically swallowed, as if her body still fought to live, then sucked on his wrist.

Willow's eyes fell shut, and she died with his blood on her lips.

Part Four

When Willow was dead, Spike watched over her for a couple of minutes, running his fingers through her soft, red hair, tracing her blood-stained lips. His first childe. When had he changed his mind? When had he decided not to kill her and leave her body for the Slayer to find?

When she offered to fix him up? When he'd scented her arousal? When he'd first tasted her skin? Or was it all those years ago when he'd kidnapped her and breathed in her unique scent for the first time?

Had he *never* been going to kill her, except for that moment of anger at the Slayer? The night he'd tried to bite her in her dorm room, he'd given her the choice of staying dead, or coming back, to be like him.

But, there'd really been no choice. He'd lied. Hello, evil demon! He'd never have left her dead. He knew even then that she would make a lovely vampire. Still, he was glad he hadn't been able to turn her then.

The last two years had given her the chance to grow up. Fill out, he smirked and cupped a breast. Become a powerful witch. Find her darkness. He remembered the dark mojo she'd gotten herself involved it. The road to hell, and all that. He remembered the taste of her blood on his tongue, and his nostrils flared.

The power, the darkness, the desire.

Oh, yeah, the good little witch had wanted him. He wondered now just how long she'd wanted him. Perhaps, like him, she'd never known, never realized, until he'd unlocked her passions. Yes, he leaned down and kissed her cold lips, licking the drying blood off of them, she'd make the perfect mate.

Childe! He'd meant childe, not mate. Why had he said mate? Oh, bloody hell, who was he kidding? He wanted to shag her again, he wanted to watch her make her first kill, he wanted to taste her again. Her skin, her cum, her blood. He wanted to make her his. He wanted to be hers.

He wanted to belong to someone again. Have someone who belonged solely to him. And she would be it. He laughed as he rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head. Dru's stars must have been looking out for him. He'd sired his first childe...and she was magnificent. Together they'd rule Sunnydale.

Well, there was that little matter of killing the Slayer, first. But he had no doubt they'd succeed. He was a 128 year old master vampire...and she was a powerful witch who'd toyed with the dark arts. And half of the bitch's support system had already been taken care of, with Red on his side.

Giles was in England and the poof left years ago for L.A. That only left Xander. Sure there were Anya, Tara, and Dawn, but Willow and Xander, they were the ones who gave the Slayer her strength. With both of them gone, she'd crumble like dust. And wasn't the irony of that delicious?

With a satisfied sigh, he rose to his feet. He cleaned himself up and got dressed, and then cleaned Willow up, carried her upstairs, and laid her on her bed. He knew that she would sleep for the rest of the night and most of the next day before she rose.

He went to her closet to get her something to wear when she woke. He pulled out fuzzy sweaters, long skirts, and corduroy pants, one after the other, looked at them in disgust, and threw them on the floor.

"Well, this just won't do," he looked over at the still form of his first childe. "No, this won't do at all," he pursed his lips. "Can't introduce you to society in any of these," he kicked at the pile of clothes. "Not the childe and future mate of a master vampire."

"No help for it, luv," he said, "you need some new clothes."

He looked down at his own soiled jeans.

"I could do with something new, myself. Black, I think. Now, you wait right there," he said, as he sauntered out of the room, his shoulders swaying, "while I go nick us something."

He skipped down the stairs, grabbed his duster and Willow's house keys, and then stepped outside. He pulled the door shut, made sure it was locked, and then strolled down the street. He lit a cigarette and wondered where he should go. The mall would be closed, and more difficult to break into than one of the shops down on Main Street.

He took the next right and headed back toward the Magic Box and all the other little shops that lined the main street of Sunnydale. He walked along the storefronts, determined which one he needed to get into, and then walked down the alley to the back. He broke into the clothing store and surprised the owner, who was still there after closing, sorting inventory.

He knocked her out and bit her, draining only enough blood to leave her weak and disoriented. Willow'd need someone to eat when she woke up. One-stop shopping, he thought with a smirk, as he dropped her on the floor where he stood, then ambled out into the shop proper.

He looked at the clothes hanging on the racks and folded on shelves, grabbing items that caught his eyes. Black leather pants, brown leather pants, belly-bearing lycra tops with v-necks in brilliant shades of blue and green. He looked at the lingerie. She wouldn't need any beneath the clothes he was picking out, but...that black teddy looked nice. He grabbed it and added it to his pile.

He found the large shopping bags behind the counter and dumped his purchases, well, pickings, inside one, then went back to look for something for himself. Black jeans, black leather pants, black t-shirts, a black button-up...he paused, his hand in midair.

A black leather duster, similar to his. With a smile he took it off of the rack and held it up. It was perfect! He could just picture the two of them walking down the street, their nearly identical dusters billowing out behind them. The masters of Sunnydale. He broke the chains holding it to the rack and added it to one of the bags.

When he was finished, he gagged the still unconscious store clerk, tied her hands behind her back, and lifted her over his shoulder. He picked up the bags of clothes in one hand, and held onto the clerk with the other. He walked out the back door, leaving it wide open, and headed back to Willow.

When he returned to the house, he deposited the stirring clerk in one corner of the bedroom and the clothes in another, then stripped and turned to look at his childe as she lay on the bed, so still, so lifeless. He couldn't wait for her to waken.

***
"What do you think?" she asked, twirling in front of him, her arms held out to the side.

"Stunning," he replied honestly. "Absolutely stunning."

"I wish I could see," she pouted as she looked into the full-length mirror. "I've never worn anything like this, and now I'll never be able to see what I look like," she said sorrowfully.

"We'll take pictures," Spike told her indulgently.

"Really?" she turned back to him with a smile.

"Really," he said, then stood. "We should get going. Don't want supper to already be in bed when we get there."

"Do you want me?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he tilted his head.

"I mean," she hesitated, "I know you *want* me," she reached out and cupped the bulge in his new jeans. "But, why did you turn me? Did you want *me*?"

"I've always wanted you," he ran his fingers through her hair, shiny and soft after the shower. "Since the night I kidnapped you and the moron, your fate was sealed," he leaned down and kissed her. "And so was mine."

He grabbed the neckline of her shirt and pulled it down, baring her shoulders and her breasts. He lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth, then moved to the other one. Willow was breathing hard, her hands grabbing his hips. He lifted his head and pulled her shirt back up, covering her.

"Let's get going, you need to learn how to hunt," he turned and walked out of the bedroom.

"Spi-ike!" she whined and he smirked to himself. He wanted her, alright. Wanted to rip her clothes off and shag her until neither one of them could walk. He was a great believer in instant gratification, but there was something to be said for anticipation, too. Maybe he'd take her to his crypt and shag her after she made her first kill.

"Spi-ike!" he looked up as he was swinging his duster around his shoulders and watched her run down the stairs, her new leather duster in her hand. "Wait for me!" she skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Let's get going, Red, moonlight's a wasting," he opened the door, jingling the keys in his hand.

"Whoa, wait!" Willow cried as she was about to step over the threshold. "Am I going to be able to get back in?"

"Of course," he turned on the porch and looked at her. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Well, because I'm a vampire now, and there's no one here to invite me in."

"I'll invite you in," he tilted his head.

"You can do that?" she asked in surprise.

"And you call yourself 'research girl'?" he teased.

"I thought only someone who owned the house, or lived in the house, could invite a vampire in," Willow joined him on the porch and pulled the door shut behind her.

"Anyone with an invite can invite others in," he explained.

"Wow," Willow breathed as she shrugged into her jacket and followed him down the steps. "That's something Buffy should really know. Too bad she never will," she smirked. "Are we going to kill her tonight?"

"No!" Spike said. "You're going to learn how to hunt and get a good meal. You're not strong enough to go after the Slayer, yet."

"When we do, can I kill her?" Willow asked seriously.

"Why?" Spike tilted his head and looked down at her.

"Because she hurt you," Willow growled. "And because you loved her," she added, filled with an angry jealousy.

Part Five

Willow and Spike were walking through the UC Sunnydale campus. Knowing the Slayer's patrol schedule was a big help when it came to keeping out of her way. The campus was pretty quiet, since it was late on a weeknight.

"Willow?" someone called her name and she turned. "Willow, is that you?"

"Parker!" Willow responded joyously as she watched him jog over. She reached out and took the boy's arm when he reached them. "You don't know how happy I am to see you, Parker," she smiled at him. "This is Spike," she pointed to the blond vampire, "Spike, Parker."

"Where were you headed, Parker?" she asked as she clutched his arm to her side, letting him rub against her breast. She could hear his breaths hitch, his heart rate speed up. It was a heady sensation and made her feel all warm and tingly.

Then she leaned in and sniffed his neck. She could smell the blood flowing just below the surface. She felt herself get wet at the thought of ripping his throat out and tasting his blood.

"Just heading in from the library," he said. "Where are you off to?"

"We were just going to get something to eat," Willow smiled. "Come with?"

***

Willow carelessly dropped the lifeless body to the ground and licked her lips.

"That was almost too easy," she pouted.

Spike shoved her up against the building they were hiding behind and kissed her, pressing his body to hers. The sight of his childe toying with her prey and then draining him dry had made him hard.

Willow slipped her hands beneath his duster and pulled his new t-shirt out of his jeans. She ran her hands over his back, then slipped them beneath his waistband, cupping his ass, as he ground himself against her.

"Did I do good?" she asked when he lifted his lips from her.

"You were amazing," he said, "and you didn't even spill a drop."

And then he unbuttoned her pants, slipping his hand inside them, his fingers tangling in her hair, then sliding between her lips and into her cold, wet pussy.

"I won't spill a drop either," he breathed into her ear, then fell to his knees in front of her.

"Spike," she moaned breathlessly as he finished unfastening her pants and slid them down her legs.

"Spread your legs," he instructed, and Willow immediately complied, spreading them as wide as she could. She was aching, and she wanted him, needed him.

He spread her lips with his thumbs and licked her, his eyes looking up at her.

"Spike," she begged, tangling her fingers in his hair, and he buried his face against her, his tongue inside her. "Oh, yes, Spike, more, more!" she cried.

Spike pulled away from her and she groaned at the loss of contact. His hand went to his fly, and he unbuttoned his jeans, freed his cock, and then rose to his feet, impaling her on his cock as he stood.

"Ahhh!" she screamed as he entered her. "Spike! Oh, fuck, Spike, harder, yes!" she made a fist and pounded on his back. "More, more!"

Spike morphed, and Willow groaned.

"Oh, god, Spike...can I still say 'god'? Oh, god!" she screamed as he sank his fangs into her and drank. "Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, Spike," she moaned as her body responded, tightening, exploding, until she was limp and languid in his arms.

"Willow," he withdrew his fangs and called her name into her neck as he came, then leaned against her, spent.

Suddenly his head jerked up and he focused his senses.

"Oh, bloody hell!" he swore quietly.

"What is it?" Willow asked.

"The Slayer," Spike said as he pulled out of her, tucked himself in, and fastened his jeans. "What in bloody hell is she doing here?" he tugged his duster around him and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

"Get dressed," he inclined his head, "and stay here. I'll get rid of her."

He walked around the building and hit the sidewalk, heading away from Willow, lighting his cigarette as he walked.

"Spike!" he heard Buffy call his name and turned to face her, slipping the lighter back into his pocket and taking a drag off of the cigarette between his lips.

"Slayer," he took the cigarette in his fingers. "What do you want?" he asked, then blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Where've you been?" she asked.

"What do you care?" he responded snarkily.

"I went by your crypt to look for you last night, but you weren't there," she continued.

"I don't need to report to you. We're not lovers," he said, "we're not even friends, right?"

"Look, I know things got a little out-of-hand the other night," she started.

"Out-of-hand?" he repeated. "Is that what you call it? You beat me and left me in that alley. I never raised a hand to you!" he pointed at her with the cigarette held between two fingers. "I could have, but I didn't. Stay away from me," he started backing away from her, "'cause the next time I see you, I'll rip your throat out."

Spike turned and walked away from her. When he got to the other side of the nearest building, he walked behind it and circled back. The Slayer was still standing where he'd left her, then a scream filled the night and she was off.

He watched her leave with a smile on his face. He'd warned her. She wouldn't believe him, but that wasn't his problem. He kept walking; he had to find his childe.

***

"Xander?"

"Willow?" Xander sat up in bed and gripped the handset tighter. "Willow, where are you? Where have you been?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm staying at my parents' house. I just...I couldn't go back to Buffy's. I know what I did was wrong," she said, "but they're never going to forgive me, and it was just too hard, living there, but I...I know it's late, and I'm sorry to bother you, but I needed someone to talk to. Do you think...?" she trailed off.

"I'll be right there," she heard the rustling of blankets and clothing and then a voice in the background. "Uh, we'll be right there," he amended. "Is that alright?"

"That'll be perfect," Willow purred. "Thank you, Xander, you won't regret it." She hung up the receiver. "You won't live to regret it."

"They'll be right over," she turned to her sire, who was lounging on the couch, watching her. "How ever will we pass the time until they arrive?" she slunk over to him, then kicked the coffee table out of the way, and knelt in front of him.

"Any ideas?" she asked as she rubbed him through his jeans.

"Some," he pursed his lips and reached down to cup her breast with one hand. "Suck me," he said, "and don't let me cum until they knock on the door."

Willow smiled as she unfastened his jeans. She spread the material wide and he lifted his hips so she could pull them down far enough to free his cock and balls. She stroked him until he was hard and firm, then lowered her head and licked his tip. She ran her tongue down the length of him, and then sucked one of his balls into her mouth.
She smiled to herself as he gasped. She rolled his sac around in her mouth, tonguing it, then sucked both of his balls into her mouth and rolled them together, pressing her thumb against his perineum. Spike was making sounds deep in his throat that made Willow wet.

Letting go of his balls, she covered his head with her mouth, sucking it as she wrapped one hand around his length and stroked him. Spike pressed back against the couch and closed his eyes, gripping the cushions as she simultaneously sucked and pumped his cock.

"Fuck, Willow!" he groaned, and then she was massaging his balls with her other hand and Spike was struck speechless. He stared at the red head bent over his cock, sucking him like a hoover, as she wanked him and kneaded his bollocks.

He tried to picture the Willow of just two days ago bringing him off, then remembered the way she'd taken him into her mouth and cleaned him off the night he'd turned her. The memory of the good little witch sucking him off on top of the sensations flooding his body now, made his balls tighten.

He dug his fingers into the cushions in preparation for his orgasm, but Willow wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, preventing him from cuming. She lifted her head and looked at him with eyes that shone with laughter and desire.

"Can't cum yet, Sire," she stuck her tongue out and flicked the tip of his cock, poking it into the small slit, "they're not here."

She covered him with her mouth, taking him all the way in until his head bumped the back of her throat, her tongue laving the underside of his cock, one hand gently squeezing his balls while the other held his orgasm back. Spike reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, then held her head as he thrust into her mouth.

The doorbell rang and Willow let go of his cock, swallowing around him the next time he thrust into her.

"Red!" he growled as he came, shooting his release down her throat. Willow swallowed, and swallowed, then sucked him dry and cleaned him off.

The doorbell rang again, and she stood and licked her lips.

"Better zip up," she teased, and turned toward the door.

***

Willow peeked out the window beside the door to make sure that Xander and Anya had come alone. When she had determined that they hadn't brought the Slayer with them, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, taking pains to remain hidden behind it.

"Xander, Anya," she poked her head around the door. "Thanks for coming over. Please, come in," she gestured with her hand. "Why don't we sit in the living room," she indicated the room off of the foyer and they both turned toward it.

"Are you alright?" Xander asked, tugging his jacket off as he walked into the living room.

"Yes," Willow said, "I'm actually feeling *much* better now." She followed Xander and Anya, almost running into Xander's back when they both stopped.

"Spike!" Xander squealed in surprise.

Willow looked around them to see a fully-dressed Spike lounging carelessly in the corner of the couch.

"Moron, demon girl," he greeted them as usual.

"What's Spike doing here?" Xander asked, his voice still squeaking.

"That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about," Willow said, morphing.

Xander turned around to look at her and screamed when he saw the ridged forehead, yellow eyes, and fangs of the demon looking back at him. Willow punched Xander's jaw, knocking him out. His scream cut off as he fell to the floor with a thud.

When Anya turned to see what Xander was screaming about, Spike moved with vampiric speed, knocking her over the head, and catching her as she fell. He looked at the unconscious woman in his arms, frowned, then shrugged and let go of her, letting her fall to the floor.

"Get the duct tape and the chairs from the dining room," Spike commanded.

Within moments, Xander and Anya were tied to the straight-backed dining room chairs that Willow carried into the living room. Their arms were pulled behind the chair backs and bound at the wrist with duct tape, their legs taped to the chair legs.

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