Title: Full Of Grace

Author: AJ Hofacre

Rating:  NC-17

Summary:  After S.o2 episode, "Passions." Somewhere in the early part of "I Only Have Eyes For You," I guess? Anyway. Jenny's dead. Angelus's fucking Dru. Not much to go on there, since it's the usual. But Buffy's feeling guilty, and Spike's feeling lost. What can they do to ease the pain?

Disclaimer: Oh how I wish Spike was mine... But he's not. :P And boo for me, I don't own anything else except the stuff in my bedroom. And a tape of James Marsters on Craig Kilborn from January 22, 3002 ;D

Previously: Buffy and Spike have agreed to work together to kick Angelus's ass, the Scooby gang think she's nuts for teaming up with him, Spike thinks he's nuts for not only teaming up with her but for actually contemplating that he might like her, and Buffy? She's gonna be beggin' for therapy when this is all over.

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Y'all want the smut? Do ya? Huh? ::evil laugh:: It's coming... oh is it coming...

Just try to keep in mind that Spike is only just now realizing his lust for his future -- how to put it delicately... eh, I guess you can't -- fuckbuddy. Which means -- yep, you guessed it! Uncomfortable situations, a nervous, embarrassed Buffy, and Horny!Spike! Woohoo!

Note: the character of Spike was not actually harmed in the writing of this chapter -- he just really wants to get laid, and got a little carried away...

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Shaking his head, Spike leaned back against the stairs, scrutinizing the group before him. He'd been here for almost half-an-hour already, and the Watcher was still pacing around, going from book to book, mumbling to himself about the stone in Dru's vision. So, in a fit of utter and complete boredom, he'd taken to giving his first-time assessment of these... kids.

The boy that the Slayer was sitting next to... Oz? Yeah, Oz. Bright green hair. Actually, he looked pretty cool; it was good to know that Spike wasn't the only man on earth comfortable enough with his masculinity to wear nail polish, although to be honest, he preferred his basic black to neon green. The boy caught his gaze and gave a nod in his direction. Spike nodded back. Okay. Nice, simple, easy-going type of guy. Yeah, Spike could definitely like him. Oz shifted slightly, and as he moved, a whiff of his scent moved towards Spike. He sniffed slightly, catching the off-center musk, almost like the smell of a... werewolf? The boy was a werewolf? Wow, he hadn't come across one of them since 1926, in Germany.

The Slayer sure associated with the strangest people.

The red-head, Willow... Oh, she looked like a tasty little morsel... Definitely yummy. Ooh, and bonus -- scared to death of him. A regular person may have only been able to see fear in her expression. Spike, however, could see (upon further inspection of her quivering lower lip and fear-filled blue-green eyes) that, despite the fact that everyone but her boyfriend saw her as a meek, docile little girl, she was actually... the strongest of them all. When it all came down to it, she was the bravest, in second place only to Buffy. She was curious and wary, but brave and intelligent. A brave, smart little girl, even if she didn't always show it, was always a lethal combination. He decided to himself that if it ever came down to it, he wouldn't eat her. Turn her, maybe. But even now as he thought about it... Eh. That probably wouldn't turn out too well.

The brown-haired twit in the corner, Xander -- Spike remembered him now; Angelus had offered him to Spike as a snack the night of his impatient school raid before Saint Vigeous -- he kept shooting him dirty glares. That is, in between the glances that he kept shooting toward the Slayer. < Hey... > Spike recognized that look. Hell, he'd fucking invented that Look. Oh-ho... so the boy was hot for Blondie, then? <Wonder what his girl thinks of that,> he thought, smirking as he peered at the aforementioned brunette.

Cordelia had glanced at Xander at the exact moment that his eyes had flitted toward Buffy -- or rather, Buffy's scoop-necked blouse -- and had just reached up to smack the boy in the back of the head. "Eyes back in your head, Harris, or you'll wish you were a eunich," he heard her whisper. Xander's eyes went wide and his face went pale.

Oh... OH. He liked this girl. The thing about her, was that although she seemed too well-to-do, and above the others at this station, it was a show. She was actually pretty insecure inside, and he could tell by the barely-there lines on her face that she fretted over the little things, like how her friends would react to, say, the fact that she was dating a complete and absolute nonce. But beside all that, there was also a core of hard steel inside her, that made her just as brave as the others in this group. It made her a sound voice, and it also proved that just because she happened to be gorgeous, didn't mean she wasn't smart. In fact, she seemed to be the common sense of the outfit, when the Watcher was off in La-La Land.

He smirked. Plus, she'd make a helluva vampire. 'Course, since vampires were territorial and violent anyway, he didn't see how much difference it would make.

Oops. He seemed to be having the 'nummy, blood bag' thoughts that the Slayer had warned him about. He cast a cautious glance toward her... and saw that she was playing with a piece of string. Hmmm. Apparently, her affection for the Watcher did nothing to allay the feelings of complete boredom she felt in his presence. Spike leaned back against the stairs that led up to the stacks, taking the time to study her silently.

She was such a scrawny little thing. Tiny little waist, tiny little hands, tiny little arms, and feet, and legs. How in the hell had she managed to beat him so many times? He just didn't get it. He knew full well that the Slayer's ancient power surged potently through her veins, under that smooth, tan California girl skin. Hell, he could smell the sweet intoxication of her blood right through that skin, not to mention being on the receiving end of her aggression half the time. But how the Higher Ups had ever managed to cram such an explosive force into such a tiny little body was positively beyond him. It brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, "don't judge a book by its cover."

She kind of reminded him of the New York Slayer that he had slain. Except for obvious things, of course. The New Yorker... Nikki... had been from the '70s, and though she was a pivotal force of destruction, she barely matched what this '90s Slayer was capable of. He had respected Nikki and, though he was loathe to admit it, he respected this Slayer, too. Buffy was the only other opponent he had ever come across that bothered to return his quips and innuendos, and the only one that really matched him blow-for-blow, in speed and skill. His other rivals (not that he had that many), vampires, demons, or what-have-you, were just stupid, hellbent for a quick meal, or trying to become a new Master, which, now that Angelus was back, was never gonna happen.

He sat forward slightly, eyeing her intently. He'd met thousands upon thousands of beautiful women in his life, so Buffy was no exception. She wasn't explosively beautiful -- in fact, several chits in Sweden he knew were more gorgeous than her. Not to mention the fact that this girl was still barely out of adolescence -- she was only seventeen. But there was something about her, some sort of... well, he didn't know what. It was captivating. The girl radiated the same 'don't fuck with me' aura that he himself wore proudly, but at the same time, there was a playful, innocent child-like quality about her that was... almost remarkable to behold in a girl who had already managed to die and come back once, without fangs.

She was only a girl, but her eyes had already seen so much. She'd already grown up too fast. She was strong, and powerful, and brave, and cunning, resourceful... She had really thrown him for a loop the first time they'd fought. She was an absolute anomaly. She intrigued him, and angered him, and drove him absolutely nuts, but at the same time... that aura, that presence she had... She drew him, sucked him in, and for some reason, he found himself helpless to resist her. She made him want her. She made him hunger for her. She made him aroused.

<Plus, she's got really nice tits.> And it wasn't exactly like he could resist a woman who shook her tits in his face half the time in those tiny little scraps of cloth she called shirts.

Spike blinked, then bolted upright, shaking his head in alarm and instantly coming back to himself. Bad thoughts. BAD thoughts! Where the bloody hell had that come from?

But now, he couldn't help it. The seed had been planted, so to speak, and the more he looked at her, the harder... (he winced and discreetly attempted to adjust himself)... he got. Her eyes were just... so in depth. If he had the chance, he could probably... literally stare into them for hours. And her lips were so... lush, and pouty, and nibble-worthy, which was saying something because Spike never nibbled. Her neck was the smoothest expanse of skin he'd ever seen, and very.... lickable. And bitable, of course, but most especially lickable. Except for that scar that... he sniffed and glowered... that his bastard of a great-great-grandsire had placed on her.

Shaking it off... he was shaking it off... <That barmy old bugger isn't around to criticize you anymore, just shake it off...>

And moving downward... Well, he'd already expressed his interest in her full, perky young breasts (by now, he was throbbing), and the further down he went, the more he wanted to say 'sod this' and just take her in front of all her little pansy friends. Well, no, not all. Everyone except for the redhead. She'd probably be traumatized for the rest of her life.

His eyes traveled back up after he'd managed to get to her feet (very cute toes, by the way), and at that very moment, she stood up and began to pace. Her legs were long (despite the fact that she was so short -- did that make any sense?), curved delicately and tanned, hugged by the blue jean skirt she was wearing. She turned away from him, and he received a pain-inducing (for his crotch, at least) view of her ass. Tightly curved, swaying gently from side to side beneath her skirt, and for some reason, Spike just knew she was as tan under there as she was everywhere else. He let out a soft growl.

Buffy felt a tingly sensation run down her back, and instantly knew that someone was watching her. She had two guesses as to who: it was either Xander, who she ruled out immediately, because it looked like Cordy was about to castrate him for gaping at her again, not to mention the fact that he didn't exactly make her tingly, or... yeah, it was Spike. And, hearing his growl, she groaned to herself as she realized he was probably imagining her blood drained into a crystal goblet or something. The thought randomly popped into her head that at any snarky remark he made, the phrase 'eat me' just took on a whole new meaning. He probably would, too.

She turned to face him, and at once saw that she'd been wrong. Oh, sure, he looked hungry -- but not bloodlust hungry. Another shiver ran down her spine as she watched his eyes -- so blue, and so... well, something so beautiful, and warm and full of life that an evil, soulless vampire should not even have in the first place -- travel down the length of her body before slowly moving up again. When his eyes met hers and he realized she was watching him, he didn't avert his gaze, or scowl at her, or flash fang or anything. Instead, he made a show of slowly, hungrily, lustfully licking his lips. Buffy watched, her eyes becoming glazed, at the sight of his nimble pink tongue darting out to caress his soft, pillowy lips.

<Er... clean-up on aisle two, we have a drooler.>

Buffy blinked and quickly wrenched her gaze away from his. <Bad Buffy. You shouldn't be staring at the hot, sexy... er, evil, disgusting vampire. You should be plotting ways to kill the evil, sexy -- DISGUSTING! -- vampire. Not thinking of what to do with that tongue. Definitely not thinking of that tongue... running down your... Oooh! BAD Buffy!>

Her gaze flickered toward his for just a hundredth of a second, but what she did see of him made it clear that he knew exactly what she was thinking. His head was cocked to the side. A knowing smirk, and piercing eyes that stared a hole directly inside of her.

Okay. She was now convinced that Spike could read minds.

She flushed, and kept her gaze away from his for as long as she could. Suddenly, her skin felt too hot, and her clothing tight and restrictive. A rush of heat converged between her legs and she gazed down at herself in horror. Why was she reacting like this? She had gotten hot? And all Spike had done was look at her? In the point-two seconds that she'd glanced at him, how in the hell could she have managed to become aroused? And why him? She still wasn't over Angel! I-It was like... a widow getting married an hour after her husband was buried, or something, and, okay, so that was a really creepy analogy, but it fit. In a way, she was a widow, because in a fit of love-induced passion and a fear of abandonment, her Angel had essentially died, and Angelus had resumed the throne. The fact that Angelus seemed hellbent on simply annoying her to death instead of actually wrapping his hands around her throat and... okay, yeah, she wasn't actually going to finish the sentence now.

And besides. Spike? Yummy. <I mean, EW! Gross! Yucky, icky Spike!>

Okay, the shit-eating grin on his face was really starting to make her uncomfortable. <Stop looking at me!> She wanted to scream. The problem was, she had a feeling that the smile would only get wider, and, well, her friends seemed to think she needed rehab for bringing him here in the first place -- they would probably only be too happy to toss her into a clinic before an apocalypse. Their idea of doing the right thing.

So the most she could do was just sit there and deal with it. At least until Giles finally found what he was looking for and sent them out. She'd make sure she was paired with Spike, just so she could beat the shit out of him if he tried anything on her.

Uh-huh. Right.

Giles frowned as he looked over his papers. He could have been certain that he'd left it right... there on the desk. Or maybe he'd put it on the table. And if Xander had used it as a napkin or something, he was gonna kill him.

Or not. His eyes lit up when he spotted the letter he'd been looking for, for some reason lying half halfway visible between his filing cabinet and his desk. Well, whatever, he wasn't going to question it now. All that mattered was that he'd found it. And as he grabbed it up and read it over, his mind struck him with the realization. Spike had said something about a stone. And, Powers help him, permitting he was right about this, then this stone, this... well, rock, was exactly what they were looking for.

Whatever this thing was capable of, he had no doubts that Angelus and Drusilla would go to any lengths imaginable to try and capture it.

He walked out of his office, waving the paper around. Instantly, Buffy spun around to face him, and Spike surged upwards on the steps, cocking his head to the side as he moved forward. The rest of the group simply stared in confusion when Buffy scuttled closer to Giles at Spike's approach. It... really wasn't like their leader to run from a vamp. Particularly the vamp that annoyed the hell out of her the most.

Spike watched Buffy hurry away from him with a smirk on his lips. The little bint was quite the prude, surprisingly. He'd smelled her reaction to his perusal earlier, and now she was running away when he approached like she was scared -- or worried -- that he was gonna take her down and fuck the living daylights out of her. Which, hey, not a bad idea right now. His cock was so hard it was this close to bursting, and for some reason, the thought of soft, warm, pliant but strong Slayer muscles under him was really working him up. He forced back an aroused groan at the thought.

Buffy folded her arms tightly over her chest, standing as close as possible to Giles without actually invading his personal bubble. Her eyes briefly flickered towards Spike, and she fought against the instant rage that enveloped her when she saw his smug, arrogant smile. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing to her! <Calm, Buffy,> she grumbled to herself. <Whaling on the suddenly helpful vampire for making you hot by barely even doing anything is not gonna go over well. Except with Xander.> Pfft. Like she was even gonna mention Spike's naughty looks to Alexander Harris. Angel... Angelus had been bad enough.

She forcibly shook the thoughts from her head. No More Thinking. If she did any more, she was going to drive herself nuts. And Psycho Buffy couldn't save the world as effectively as the original. <Ooh. Original Extra-Crispy sounds good right about... argh! Focus!>

"So what's the deal, Giles? Do you know what this thing is?" she asked, worrying her lower lip, while at the same time trying not to think of food, or the sexy blonde vampire who was currently still staring holes in the back of her head. Sexy? Okay, so it wasn't like it didn't describe him perfectly, and she'd caught herself becoming just a little teenybopper-ish in the last few minutes since she'd seen him checking her out. Besides, she did think he was good-looking. She'd thought it since the first time she'd met him.

<Oooh! Gorgeous sexy male at... wha -- Aw, shit, he's a vampire!>

Her weekend had gone slightly downhill from there. What with the gorgeous sexy vampire now fully attempting to kill her. So what exactly had changed that? The fact that they were now, generally, in the same boat? That they were all sitting ducks until Angelus decided he wanted to go hunting again?

She was gonna stick with the fact that he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of her for the moment and leave it at that. <Feminine wiles, don't fail me now!>

Giles 'hmm'ed softly. "I know that it is a large rock. However, I have no knowledge of the powers it may contain. One of my acquaintances at the museum sent me this letter, asking if I would be able to assist in a study of some sort. Naturally, I agreed. A work crew has managed to excavate the large block of rock, which seems to be thousands of years old. There is no mention in here of anything unusual, but as always, this is Sunnydale, and we are above a Hellmouth, so anything can happen. I wouldn't be surprised if the stone contains the apocalypse inside of it right now."

He turned to Spike. "You said that Drusilla has seen this in a vision?" The vampire nodded once, eying the Watcher with his scarred eyebrow arched. "Can you recall exactly what she said?"

Spike frowned. In the past, he'd normally spent hours mulling over Dru's psychotic ramblings, and had become quite adept at ruling out what they meant -- you couldn't live almost 120 years without picking up a few things from a kill-happy loony. Unfortunately, since his ex-bint had become so fondly attached to her even more psychopathic 'daddy' and all, he hadn't exactly paid much attention to her riddles -- he'd been more on the side of trying not to hop out of the Red Trap of Doom and twist her head off like a bottle cap. And, unfortunately still, that meant he'd only caught bits and pieces of her words. Enough to get by and discover the answer, but not enough to appease Super-Research Man.

Ah, dammit. Buffy's California girl speech was seeping in again. Oh, and he'd called her 'Buffy' again. Now wasn't that just a doddle?

He sighed and screwed up his brows, thinking. "Er... I didn't get every single word she said, but it went somethin' like... Perpetual night... Excruciating pain... Hell on Earth... She saw Sunnyhell on fire. An' a big demon thing with a sword stuck in 'is chest. Demons an' vamps running rampant..." He paused and licked his lower lip, then shrugged. "Eternal suffering. Y'know, apocalyptic visions, same old, same old. An' tha's jus' what I was able to translate."

Giles stopped, tilting his head curiously. "A demon with a sword in his chest?"

Spike nodded. "Yep. That'd be about it. She wasn't exactly one for sitting down an' explainin' herself."

Giles frowned. "Yes, well... of course." He turned away again and began scouting his books. "A demon with a sword in his chest," he murmured again.

Buffy watched quietly as Giles opened a book and began skimming. It had taken all of her might not to look at Spike before, and it was even worse now, because she could still feel those stupid, beady, beautiful -- wait, no, not beautiful -- disgusting blue eyes burning pinpricks into her body. Oh, god, it was hard to not turn around! She just wanted to give in and look at him all she wanted -- not because she was into him or anything. His hotness was simply a mere technicality that she could work around. It was because the way he was looking at her was making her... well... want him. Well, yeah. All he'd done was look at her, and she'd gone up about 60 degrees right then and there. Why was his nose twitching? Was he smelling something unnatural or -- oh, shit, she'd turned and looked at him without realizing it!

She inwardly squealed in horror and spun around instantly. <Stupid subconsciousness!> What the hell was going on here? How on earth could she, in the slightest, even be attracted to Spike? 'Cause he was still... 'ew, Spike.' This was in no way natural. He was doing something to her. With his mind, or some freaky vamp thing like that. He was evil! He was an evil, bloodsucking, soulless monster!

That happened to have a really tight, cute ass.

Oh, she'd done it again. She could see the group staring at her in bewilderment. <What?> she wanted to ask defensively. <So what if I wanna start spinning in circles till my head hits the ground? It's better than listening to my thoughts, anyway!>

How could he be affecting her this way? She'd been fine when she'd met up with him yesterday! Well, except during the tequila run, and wasn't she brilliant? Faking drunk, and bringing a vampire worse than her ex-boyfriend into the house! Okay, so Spike wasn't as bad as Angelus was. In fact, compared to the Psycho Fish Killer, Spike was pretty tame. As far as vampires went. But still. Evil and soulless.

Yep.

And hot.

Sigh. Okay. She was just gonna deal with it. Spike was hot -- factor acknowledged. There. <Are ya happy now?> she asked her brain.

A voice from inside her head snickered softly. <Not nearly happy enough.>

Uh-oh. Why didn't she like the sound of that?

"Buffy?"

She jumped. "No!"

Giles frowned at her. The group stared at her strangely, while Cordelia simply began to look bored. She'd seen enough of Buffy's weirdness to last her a lifetime. Spike had an eyebrow raised and there was a quirk in the corner of his lips, indicating he was more than slightly amused. And he was sniffing again. The hell? What was he, a bloodhound? She mentally snorted. <Bloodhound... okay, that was unintentional. And funny.>

"Well, er... I hope it isn't no, as a matter of fact. I need you to go and round up as much information as you can on this stone. Along the lines of Arcane rituals, Latin, demon, sword..." He paused. "Hell on earth."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Oh. So... apocalypse, then?"

"Yes."

She nodded once. "Right. Gotcha. I'm on it."

"Buffy," Giles called. He was going to regret this, he was really going to regret this... "Take someone with you."

She didn't stop, and without turning, she called to Xander. "Come on, Xand, big info search. I might let you beat up Willy the Snitch!"

Xander at once started to get up, but Giles put out his hand, wincing. "Actually... I'd prefer it if... Spike went with you."

The reaction was immediate, from Xander, Buffy and Willow all at once. "WHAT?"

Spike smirked and moved closer to the Slayer. Oooh... this was going to be fun...

"H-he commands a lot of respect in the demon community. He is a Master from the Line of Aurelius, Buffy. That in itself draws attention among demons, as Aurelius's blood line tends to have a great deal of strength, as well as intelligence."

Spike snorted. "I guess Peaches is the black sheep, then."

A smile quirked on Xander's lips at that, but then he remembered who had said it, and his face turned stony again. "You can't let Bleach Boy go with Buffy! He'll probably turn on her along the way and use her as a midnight snack! If she has to go with him, then at least let me go along to keep an eye on him!"

Buffy scowled. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much, Xander Harris!"

He instantly turned on her. "Oh, like you took care of yourself with Angel? Yeah, look how well it turned out last time we left you alone with a vamp!"

Buffy visibly winced, pulling back, and Willow gazed at him, shocked. "Xander! How could you say that to her? As if she isn't hurting enough because of this, you have to go shove it in her face all over again? What the heck's wrong with you?" She walked past Oz toward Buffy, unheeding of Spike, and wrapped an arm around Buffy's shoulder.

More surprising, however, was the fact that Cordelia jumped on the 'don't dis Buffy' bandwagon. "Xander, that was incredibly harsh," she said, scowling. "I mean, sure, her ex is a raving psycho loony that's shacked up with yet another raving psycho loony" -- she paused and turned to Spike -- "No offense or anything, but it's true."

Spike shrugged and nodded. "No harm done."

Cordy turned back to her boyfriend. "But it wasn't as if she knew it was gonna happen! She fell in love and, big boohoo, it wasn't with you. Hello? Living in the past much? Get over it, and get off her case." Her eyes narrowed. "Unless you want to bring out the Queen Bitch. Which you are so close to right now, it's not even funny."

Xander's eyes darted back and forth among the group. Okay... okay... open-mouth-insert-foot syndrome strikes again. He knew when he was close to being killed. And from the look of anger and slight jealousy in Cordy's eyes, Xander had no doubt about how close to that line he really was.

Besides. Bloodthirsty vampire in the room. And if he stepped a toe out of line, one of the girls was sure to feed him to Spike. Instantly, he relented.

Turning to Buffy, he sighed. "I'm sorry. I just want you to be safe. You know that."

Buffy held his gaze for a moment, then abruptly shrugged off Willow's arm and turned away, striding to the exit. Xander's head ducked down in defeat -- for the moment. He was gonna need major brownie points to make up for this.

Giles hesitated for a minute, allowing Buffy to reach the door before calling her back. "Buffy. Take Spike with you."

Buffy spun around. "But Giles --"

Giles narrowed his eyes. "Now, Buffy."

"But --"

"Buffy!"

The Slayer -- the 17-year-old Chosen One -- stomped her foot in an act of childish petulance. "Fine!" Turning her rebellious gaze on the vampire, she growled out, "Come on then, Peroxide Boy." She looked at Giles again, then said sarcastically, "We have to go scrounge up info for the side of Good."

Without waiting for his response, she flounced out the door. Spike pinched the bridge of his nose, instantly feeling a headache coming on. This night was gonna be a bitch. Focusing his eyes on Xander, he slipped temporarily into game face and snarled threateningly, low in his throat. The boy let out a startled yelp and ducked behind his girlfriend, and Spike smirked before shifting back again. Shifting his gaze to Willow, he smiled and winked, then followed Buffy.
 

He'd been thinking to himself while the Slayer stomped around the town in front of him, occasionally flinging staking threats at him. Eh, he'd already gotten used to them. They'd managed to get old.

They'd gone through every demon bar that Spike recalled, and the breakthrough had already come at Willy's, after Spike had needed to, er... refresh the sleazy little bar-tender's memory. <Honestly, do a bloke a favor once, an' they think they're scot-free!>

"I-I-I don't know much!" he'd yelped. "I heard from a couple of guys of Angel's that this thing was heading into town in a week's time, and that it was pretty much gonna make everything go kablooey." When Buffy had snarled at him and yanked him right over the bar and onto the floor, threatening his vital organs with a painful ending, he'd relinquished the whole of the information: a ritual was to awaken the forthcoming apocalypse, and that blood was necessary. As to what was so special about the stone, there was nil.

Currently, they were heading back to the library with the information, and Buffy was muttering to herself about right, and wrong, and blah, blah, blah. There was also a brief snatch in there about keeping an eye on Angel's actions in order to avoid any needless deaths for the blood ritual. Spike was more than slightly amused at the firebrand in front of him. Throughout the entire night, she'd been a raving Hellbitch, that he figured was more due to the boy's idiocy than to the fact that Spike was tagging along with her.

In the library, Spike had managed to come to terms with himself. He could be honest, all truthful and no bullshit. He wanted her. He wanted to tie her to a bed, and shag her up, down, upside down, sideways, backways, and right into the middle of next month, until both of them were screaming in pleasure, until both of them were sated. It was as simple as that. The woman couldn't just walk in front of him, swaying that delicious ass from side to side, throwing her breasts in his face at every turn, or do the most innocent but arousing things with her tongue without expecting him to tear the seams in his jeans.

At the moment, he'd already popped half of them. It was a miracle that his baser mind hadn't managed to fall out and give her a scare yet.

But the fact of the matter that his intelligent mind was focused on at the moment, was that the girl was still head over heels for her brooding romance novel poofter. And he knew that Angelus hated the girl -- Buffy had instilled the most humanity in him. And it was only natural that she and her circle be the basis for his assault. And Spike... well, he'd been tossed to the side, in favor of a master that had proper use of his legs. The simple fact that he had given Dru everything he'd ever had inside of him had gone overlooked, as far as his former lover was concerned. His love for her had never meant anything. And truth be told, he could kill Dru for it.

In fact... he was planning on it.

So. Buffy was focused on killing the poof, but she was still in love with him. Angelus was focusing every fiber of his idiotic mind on destroying Buffy, assuming he wasn't currently engaged in any physical activities with Drusilla at the moment. And Dru, the insane beauty, was focused on three things only: her daddy; the degradation and destruction of the Slayer at Daddy's hand; and the destruction of the entire world. So Spike, as usual, was left out of the equation.

But he'd already made a way in. Buffy's reactions to him had most certainly not gone unnoticed. Which meant that she wasn't as cuckoo for Peaches as she thought she was. But the problem was that Angelus had laid claim to her, so he couldn't... shouldn't... technically do anything about it. But if there was one thing the poof hated, it was when someone upstarted him. When someone laid claim to what was so obviously his.

And it was a surefire way to distract him as well. Because Spike, in all actuality, hadn't really wanted to become Destructo Vamp with the whole bloody planet. He'd just gone along with it because Dru had wanted it. He liked it here.

His eyes fluttered again to Buffy's backside, and a smirk quirked his lips. He really liked it here.

<An' hey, let's face it: 've always liked to piss off Peaches. Jus' for shits an' giggles. No better way to do it than to claim his Slayer's hot little body.>

Well. That settled it. He was going to have to play nice with Buffy.

"OW!"

Right after she stopped hitting him.

Buffy folded her arms, scowling at him. "Try being on the listening end when there's a rant being directed at you."

His first reaction was to squeeze that lovely little throat of hers. He didn't act on it. Instead, he forced himself to calm down, then tilted his head to the side, rubbing the stinging redness of his newly injured nose. Deciding he would try to play the sympathy card, he sighed and ducked his head. "Sorry. Was thinkin' 'bout Dru."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Why would you wanna think about that ho?"

Spike felt a thundering scowl settle on his brow at that, and he growled. "Don't call her that."

The Slayer shrugged. "Why not? It's true, isn't it? Why would you want to think about her, when she's traipsing around right in front of your nose, boning my ex?"

Spike started to reply, then stopped, staring at her in surprise. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. "What? Did you think I didn't understand what you said? You're British, not Chinese." She took a deep breath. "Shagging is slang for screwing. And I knew it couldn't be wrong after hearing Cordelia talking. The psycho loonies shacking up with each other?" She looked away from him. "Angel wasn't thrilled to death with my performance. It would only make sense he'd go after an experienced woman. Even more sense that it would be his childe."

Spike tilted his head. "It was your first go-round, wasn't it, pet?"

She looked at him sharply. "Yes. And don't call me that."

Spike ignored her. "An' he was perfectly normal until the morning after, right?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah..."

"Did he flood the gate?"

"Huh?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Did he come, Slayer?"

His eyes followed the irresistible blush moving up her cheeks. "Uh... yeah."

"Did he scream your name?"

Her face was the hue of a tomato. "Yes..."

Spike shrugged. "Then he lied to you. You brought him to his knees, so he twisted your head 'round, played with your mind. Whatever he said to you, was prolly the most hurtful thing he could think of. 'S why you went from a bloody fantastic shag to... er, inept."

"Oh," she said softly. Her face was still red, and she still looked embarrassed, but she also looked slightly grateful. And then weirdness set in. "Oh. Okay. This is frankly the most disturbing conversation I've ever had with you. I'm stopping it. Now." She turned and started walking again.

Spike chuckled to himself, jogging slightly to catch up. "You brought the subject up, pet."

"Stop calling me that." A long pause followed before Buffy tentatively spoke up again. "So... why?"

He looked over at her. "Why what?"

She refrained from looking at him. "Why are you still thinking of your ho of a girlfriend?"

Spike frowned, then shook his head and sighed. "I guess... 'cos I've been with her since I was turned." He stopped, pursing his lips and thrusting his hands into his duster's pockets as he stood in place. "I mean... I never left her. I was always there, always there for her, when she needed me. I loved her." He saw her look at him skeptically and he scowled. "I did! Jus' because I don't have a precious soddin' soul doesn't mean I don't know how to love. Believe me, if anything, I love too bloody much. It's a fuckin' curse."

Her gaze softened slightly. "When I held that stake to her heart. When we were at that vampire clique." She paused, studying him deeply. "You were scared."

He nearly exploded. "Bloody right I was! You were threatenin' to kill the woman I loved!" He stared at her incredulously. "You think I care so much about blood, about violence, murder, about killing you, that I'd have let her just die? You think you know me so bloody well, you think you've got my whole attitude down to a T? You think I'm just a selfish, idiot vampire that doesn't care either way about love or food?" He shook his head. "Well, you're half right. I am selfish. But not so selfish that I willingly would have given Dru up to your whole ass-kicking brigade... thing. The only thing I know, is I loved her. You could stake me for all I care, but so long as you didn't touch Drusilla."

Buffy remained silent for a bit, then followed Spike as he began to walk again. "And do you still feel that way? I mean, with the whole her and Angelus thing going on."

He sighed. "No matter what she's done to me, I'm always gonna love her. She created me, she... fuckin' raised me. She made me who I am. She believed in me, encouraged me when I wasn't good enough for my grandsire, an' that bitch, Darla. So, yeh, Slayer, I do still feel that way." He paused. "But 'm still gonna kill her for fuckin' Angelus."

She let out a soft snort at that. "Well, good. One down, Angel to go."

Spike eyed her. "You ready to kill 'im? You know it's what you gotta do."

Buffy nodded. "I'm ready. As long as he doesn't throw me for a loop, like suddenly getting his soul back, I'm ready." She smiled brightly as she spun to look at him. "And then, I'm gonna kill you."

Spike cocked a brow, bemused. "You think you're gonna kill me?"

Buffy lifted her chin, gazing at him smugly. "I know I'm gonna kill you."

Spike smirked. "Is that a fact."

Without warning, he launched himself at her, taking her down to the grass with his weight. Snarling, he threw his head back as he slipped into game face, straddling her waist. Buffy flailed beneath him, kicking her legs uselessly, crying out in dismay. He leaned forward over her, his hands grasping her arms tightly. Tilting his head to the side, he slowly opened his mouth as he neared her throat.

And then, sudden pain as Buffy bucked up, then threw her head forward, headbutting him. Spike let out a stunned yell, falling back. It took him less than a second to get back up again, and he met with Buffy's heeled boots as he did. As he dropped back down again, he aimed a swing at her midsection, connecting and forcing Buffy to double over in pain. For good measure, he grabbed hold of her hips, propelling his head into her stomach.

Buffy yelped as Spike brought her down again, attempting to move on top of her, and she struggled, kicking at him as hard as she could. A strangled cry from his throat let Buffy know she'd connected, although she hadn't had the pleasure of emasculating him: he'd been crawling up her body when she'd hit him, and his head had almost been level with her stomach.

Reacting quickly, before Spike could, she used her momentum and rolled on top of him, pinning him firmly to the ground, practically stretched on top of him. Her knees were firm around his legs like a vice, and her hands were grasping his arms firmly, leaving him pretty much immobile. But in no way was he helpless. He still had his mouth.

"Slayer!" he gasped, feigning shock. "Never thought you'd be one to take it on top!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Spike."

He couldn't resist the urge to tease her some more. "So did your precious poof ever get to see this side of you? Or did he do the romantic thing. You know, flowers, candles, him on top, pumping away?" An evil smirk curled his lips. "Wonder what he would've said if you'd done this to him? What if he saw us like this? Would it shatter his image of innocent, naive little you? Would he have --"

Buffy released one arm momentarily to pop him in the nose before pinning it firmly to the ground again. Spike growled in frustration. "Would you stop aiming for the nose?"

"Well, maybe." He looked at her in surprise, before her gaze hardened. "I might if you weren't such a disgusting, perverted pig!"

"Oh, come on, it's not like you haven't thought about this!"

"I haven't --"

"And it can't be that you're the innocent, virginal one, 'cos we both know that's not true --"

"How dare you!"

"Well, you're not a prude if you're getting on top of me like this. All 'm askin' is if you rode the poofter!"

Buffy nearly shrieked in frustration and embarrasment. "That is none of your business, family or no, and if you think for a second that I'm gonna treat you like my secret gossip friend, then you are sadly mistake -- eep!"

Spike had broken free of her grip and had used her slight distraction to flip her over once again. His body now lay cradled between her thighs, and suddenly... she was painfully aware of Spike's state of arousal. She gazed up at him wide-eyed.

Spike cocked his head. "Maybe you are a bit of a prude." She huffed indignantly, and he smiled. "Think it's time I remedied that."

Like a bolt of lightning, his head ducked down, and he captured her lips in a hard, hungry kiss. Buffy gave a loud squeal of shock and dismay, automatically trying to kick him off.

But there was a problem here. A very big problem. Well, besides the problem that was currently rubbing briskly between her thighs.

Spike was a really good kisser.

And eventually, Buffy's protests died down. And soon after that, she began to kiss back.

It was really hard to stop.

Spike hadn't been able to resist the temptation. Flipping the Slayer over, she had looked so flushed, so rosy, so... delicious, that he just had to give in and see if those lips were really as soft as they looked.

Besides, he just been fighting her. Fighting made him horny. Not to mention his new-found lust for the young woman shifting under him at the moment. A soft groan escaped his throat as her thigh brushed his erection. Oh, god, he was seriously gonna need alone time after this.

More than anything, he wanted to taste her. But he had already managed to get carried away, and so, reluctantly, he pulled away from Buffy's intense heat. Of course he immediately regretted it. The site of her lying underneath him, flushed, sweating, breathing heavily, her lips already swollen and looking throroughly kissed was enough to make him want to just rip her clothes off right then and there.

Unfortunately, her sensibilities came back moments after he pulled away, and her eyes widened in shock. She began pushing at him, and Spike rolled off of her, climbing to his feet. She gazed at him warily when he reached his hand down, then cautiously accepted it, allowing him to pull her up. Quickly and methodically, she brushed herself off, cursing under her breath when she saw grass smears on the jean skirt, and cursing louder when an old fallen leaf wouldn't cooperate and instead crumbled in her hair.

Quickly, before she could do anything, Spike swept behind her and brushed out her hair, pulling the broken leaf's pieces out. Then he moved away as quickly as he'd come, leaving her to look at him in wonder and trepidation. Then, simultaneously, they turned and continued on toward the school.

After a moment's silence, Buffy spoke, not looking at him. "That didn't happen," she murmured quietly. "Got that? There was never a heat-of-the-moment Buffy/Spike kissy moment, okay? It did NOT happen."

Spike looked at her, tilting his head as he saw the tremor in her shoulders. His eyes moved down to her tiny hands, and he saw that they were shaking as well. He looked back up at her face, smirking to himself when he saw that she was blushing insanely now. He nodded. "Got it. Didn't happen."

She sighed in relief.

<But that doesn't mean that it couldn't happen at all.>

Looked like he was well on his way toward revenge.
 
 

TBC...

Part 4...

Title: Full Of Grace

Author: AJ Hofacre

Rating:  NC-17

Author's Note: Oof... Sorry about taking so long. The words, apprently, were very reluctant to come to me. At least they finally did, so please read, I hope you enjoy, and PLEEEEEEASE gimme reviews! Please?

Disclaimer: It's not mine. I already told you that! Stop hounding me!

Previously: Oooh, my, our future lovers have just shared their first kiss! Of course, Buffy's wigged, and has asked Spike to ignore that it ever happened. And of course, our horny hero agrees... but he's most certainly not going to forget. Giles having finally found the paper describing the Apocalyptic Rock, sent Buffy and Spike out to scrounge up info. I'm sure you all know how it goes from there. Oh, and side note: the girls are mad at Xander again.
 
 

 

March 10, 1998 -- Tuesday

He kissed me. That big, egotistical, maniacal, homicidal blowhard actually kissed me. It was the most degrading moment of my life! He threw himself at me, knocked me onto the grass (and stained my pretty blue jean skirt, too, the bastard!), we fought, I pinned him, he distracted me enough so he could roll us over and pin me... and then, he kissed me. It was disgusting.

So why did I like it so much¿?

I'm not exactly cuckoo about the idea of gossiping about it, because... well, because it was him. And because Dawn's probably going to find this and read it, and tease me mercilessly so that I'll hafta kill her, and that won't go over well with Mom. But... I guess I'll hafta take my chances. He was a really good kisser. Better than Angel (not Angel, not Angel ) Angelus was, in fact. If you can believe that. Hell, I can't believe it!

The way he was looking at me tonight... I mean, if you could have seen his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. Even when I caught him, all he did was give me a complete up-down read, and then he licked his lips like I was the most delicious thing he'd ever seen! He was checking me out! It's so weird to think that... HIM, of ALL PEOPLE, with the things that HE'S done, and the stuff that HE'S FAMOUS FOR... HE was checking me out.

Of course, I can't blame him. Compared to who he used to be with, he can look at me all he wants. Ooh, do I sound conceited¿? I don't mean to be. And, gah, why am I gushing over him anyway¿?

Anyway, enough about HIM. (Can't you just hear the theme music from Jaws coming after that¿?) Giles got that information about whatever this big Rock Thing is. So did we. Xander got me in such a pissy mood that I actually hauled Willy over the counter to get the info.

Oh, and, speaking of Xander!! That butthead's lucky that Giles had me leave, otherwise his ears would probably be stuck up his nose, his tongue would be pulled through his throat, and his head would be up his butt. Not like it already isn't. Like I don't feel bad enough about me and (not Angel, not Angel) doing the horizontal watusi, and him going all 'grr, argh, roar' with the kill, maim, destroy thing... Grrr. Even Cordy was mad at him. Which was weird, because... Cordy. Well, she's always mad at him for something, but this time, she actually defended me. Wiggy.

Looks like we might have an apocalypse sometime soon. I wonder if HE'S upset about it. Probably not.

I know these are really bad Buffy Thoughts, which is why I'm putting them in here, so I don't have to keep them in my head and go insane... but I wonder if he'll kiss me again. I'm not saying that I want him to... but I might not pull back if he does.

Shhh... don't tell.

Buffy

Buffy sighed as she slammed the cover of her diary shut. This was pretty bad. Somehow, some way, she'd managed to get the hots for an evil, bloodsucking fiend. And if she was truthful, she'd technically had the hots for him since she'd first met him. Spike had a rare, Roman-esque, Greek-Adonis type beauty that tended to... melt women when they first saw it. Every aspect of him from what she'd seen, even his unnaturally blonde hair, was fitting. His whole body just suited him. Made him extra... yummy.

She scoffed at herself. <Buffy, thou art damned to hell.>

She'd begun to notice something quite disturbing about herself, something that Giles seemed to have restrained trying to yell at her for since he found out about Angel: she seemed to have a thing for the undead. Angel had been the first, and yeah, she'd thought he was just some weird human guy on her trail until her Slayer senses had gone haywire around him. But he'd been full of good intentions, because he had a soul. And yeah, he drove her absolutely crazy, pulling that stupid hot-and-cold, on-again-off-again, 'I love you, but I can't be with you' bullshit on her time and time again, but she'd still loved him, had still been proud that he slayed at her side.

Angel had warmed her from head to foot the moment he entered the room, whether he was all-business and sending a rare smile her way, or whether they were alone together, whispering sweet nothings interchanged with gentle, heartwarming kisses.

Spike, on the other hand...

The man was brutal. He had absolutely no sense of gentility and devotion <and totally ignoring the fact that that's how he was with Drusilla before Angelus took her away from him> and his caustic tongue was one to rival even Cordelia's. Cordelia had no sense of tact; Spike had a sense of wicked tactlessness. The difference there was that Cordelia wasn't aware of what she said most of the time, be it hurtful, truthful, or helpful. Spike was fully aware of what he said; he purposely primed it to be hurtful, and he wallowed in the phrase 'The truth hurts.'

Yet somehow, his scathing tongue and tear-inducing words seemed like a defense mechanism, almost. Buffy hadn't failed to notice that he usually only said those bitter, cutting phrases after she instigated it with something sore and malicious. It was nothing but a bitter cycle: she started it, he finished it, he started it, she... more than often finished it.

But at the same time, while Angel's presence had warmed her like a blanket being thrown over her shoulders in a violent winter wind, Spike's presence lit a fire inside of her body, an inferno that had absolutely no intention of being put out. Angel's presence had once calmed her; Spike's presence made her go all loopy, wanting to lose any and all inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind.

He angered her, and at the same time, made her want him. It was incomprehensible; she just didn't understand why it only happened around Spike. He made her feel powerful, hungry. He preferred to have her draw her power out instead of fighting mechanically during a battle.

Vaguely, she recalled his disappointed words on Halloween, the night she'd been turned into a noblewoman for Angel, only to find out that he hadn't even liked the women of his time. Spike hadn't been reluctant to bite her, but he had been reluctant to have to end her life without a fight. He'd wanted a challenge in her, and on Halloween, he'd been denied that challenge, because she'd been a weak, pathetic little girl.

Spike made her want to take pride in the fact that she was a Slayer, to use it to her full ability, to actually indulge herself in her more primitive half when she made a kill. Angel had preferred to let her live the life of a normal girl, to have boyfriends and dates with coffee, to snuggle on the couch watching old romantic movies from the '30s and '40s, and to think of her Calling as a necessary job, and nothing else... Spike made her feel that not only could she be that normal girl, but she could embrace her primal self as well, to truly become the Slayer.

And what more, he didn't bother to shield her from the dark and gloomy. Spike fed in front of her, gave her the cold, hard facts, had killed quite a few humans right in her view, and didn't bother to try and hide what he was. Angel, however, had refused to let her see him feed, and she'd always had the vague sense of annoyance that he only came out patrolling with her so that he could thin the herd before she so much as got one vamp staked. And he had always tried to hide what he was.

Spike made her want to stand up and feel proud of her heritage, be strong, and violent and skillful. He wanted an equal. Angel, apparently, didn't.

Why hadn't Angel bothered to make her feel that way?

And, god... she wasn't even going to go into the differences in their kissing. She was scared she might short-circuit. One thing was for sure, though: as old as Angel was compared to Spike, the younger vampire was definitely the better kisser. All hot, and tingly and commanding and powerful, reaching right into the center of her being and igniting that fire into the raging inferno, setting her every muscle at ease and her every nerve ending at attention...

Ohhhh... her brain was officially fried. No more thinking for Buffy.

<I'm supposed to be heartbroken over the loss of my ex and how to kill him, Drusilla, and Spike, not debating the merits of dating Spike as opposed to having dated Angel!>

She whined softly before pulling back her covers, turning off her lamp, and letting her head hit the pillow.

<Stupid hormones. Always gotta make things harder.>

<He's only doing this to rile you, mate. Ignore that stupid face of his, and the stupid hair, and that stupid smirk, and don't look at Drusilla, the vile, rank bitch. Don't let her into your head.>

"What do you think, Dru?"

Spike looked up. He'd made it back home in time to fling himself into the Metal Death Trap known as the wheelchair, just as Angelus and Drusilla had come storming in from the back, well-fed and riotus with an inquenchable thirst for sex.

Which had been put on hold the minute they'd seen him. Hell, Spike had known he was close to trouble the moment Drusilla had come waltzing into the garden, spinning to a stop in front of him.

It was inevitable, really. He was kicking himself for being so stupid.

He had Slayer Smell all over him. All for the simple fact that, when he'd gotten back, he'd forgotten to change his clothes.

Idiot.

So now he was busy shielding his mind from Drusilla's particularly annoying "insight." All things considered, it was actually pretty easy to do. Dru's insanity sometimes rendered her into a helpless, child-like state. And in the incredibly rare moments when she was lucid, she could generally only decipher the thoughts and emotions that Spike directed at her. Having been with the loon for over a century, he'd learned quite a few tricks to confuse his one-time lover that his idiot of a grandsire was too dimwitted to realize.

Which brought him to the hard part: confusing Dru enough with his emotions for her to convince the Great Arse that he wasn't hiding anything. After all, Angelus, as Angel, had spent so much time with Buffy that her scent was currently lodged into his senses. When he'd perceived the smell desperately clinging to the threads of Spike's clothes, he'd immediately rounded on the younger vampire, barking orders at Drusilla to determine any guilt; anything naughty that a paraplegic vampire should not have had any business doing.

Fortunately for Spike, as much bravado as his grandsire put on, Angelus really was as stupid and gullible as he seemed. Spike had instantly been prepared for Dru's brain-probing when they'd come back, and he'd quickly sent out emotional waves of annoyance toward Angelus and hurt because of Dru. His irritated thoughts of having worn these clothes the last time he'd been able to face the Slayer bounced forward into Dru's mind the moment her consciousness locked with his.

However, she'd been probing him for almost five minutes now, and Angelus was getting testy. "Dru..." He wasn't really curious if Buffy had decided to pay the mansion a visit after somehow discovering that they were staying there. What he really wanted was an all access pass from Dru to beat the holy hell out of Spike. From there, he entered the Happy Land of Chains and Torture, which was why he started when Drusilla gave a sudden delighted giggle.

"My Spike's an innocent one, he is... Poppet had no one to help pull on the prince's new robes. He had to use the beggar's." She sniffed lightly, inhaling vanilla perfume combined with the Slayer's earthy musk, then shook her head, apparently pleased by what she found. "The wicked Slayer's smell has grown for months... she's aged, Daddy, she has..."

Angelus glanced at her blankly. "Er, yeah. So... I don't get to kill him, then?"

Drusilla smiled darkly. "Naughty Daddy... He wants to take away my toy and never give it back. Poor me... he doesn't want me to play anymore. My white knight's no longer of use. Maybe Daddy has a bigger game in mind?" Her long, dark eyelashes swept up and down coquettishly, and in an instant, Angelus forgot who Spike even was, let alone his desire to kill him, in favor of a more... strenuous activity.

He strode forward, a lascivious smirk crossing his face as he trailed a deceptively gentle hand down the length of Drusilla's body. The smirk only widened when Spike emitted a low growl behind him, and it took all his strength not to glance back and gloat at the now-seething bleach blonde. "Oh, I've got a few games I think you might like, baby." Reaching Drusilla's hand, he caught it in his own, twisting sharply upward, causing Dru to gasp in pain and excitement. "But I think they're better suited... away from prying eyes."

Drusilla raised her head eagerly as Angelus stepped away from her, moving upstairs. When Spike growled again, Dru's eyes strayed to him. Noticing that he had her attention, Spike once again roused his capacity for emotions, giving her a look of deepest longing, hurt, heartbreak and disgust, emitting a soft, pleading whimper.

The dark beauty simply shrugged to herself, following her sire back upstairs into the mansion. Apparently, Spike's feelings were placed as they should be, and were not of any consequence. No need to worry. He didn't matter.

Spike's lips curled into a bitter smile as he slipped out of his jealous, jilted lover persona, listening hatefully to Drusilla's footsteps alighting on the landing above him. This most recent display of her indifference to her betrayal... was the nail in her coffin, so to speak. Spike was more certain than ever that his alliance with the Slayer was the smartest thing he had ever done.

The Slayer... Spike smirked to himself. The fiery little thing had been completely shaken by his kiss, which pleased him to no end. She'd refused to look anywhere in his vicinity the entire time back to the high school, and she'd practically run out the door when the Watcher had set the lot of them free for the night.

Spike had heard Rupert's voice calling him back, but he'd pointedly ignored it, stalking out the doors and jetting out of the high school, positive that Giles only wanted to give him some not-very-threatening glares and gestures, and tell him to keep his fangs to himself. He'd turned to the left and right, and had caught the smallest glimpse of blonde hair swishing around. He had almost decided to run after her when he'd realized how close it was to his sires' grand return. So he'd hauled ass down to Crawford Street, just in time to greet the two lunatics that he was unfortunate and reluctant to say were "related" to him.

And now, they were holed up in Angelus' room, roaring, and screaming, and growling their heads off in a not-so-subtle attempt to piss him off. Spike snorted and shook his head. God, if his mum could just see him now...

Eh. If his mum could see him now, she'd probably sympathise with him and nothing more. Anne had been a quiet, gentle, sweet-natured woman by the time she'd taken ill, and Spike, when human, had been her entire world. She'd doted on him as if he were a prince. If anything, she would have understood the love he'd had for Drusilla, and probably would have found a way to discourage the hate he now harbored for his sires. She might even have chided him for teasing and taunting Buffy, and would probably have asserted the fact that Buffy was still only a child, and new to the world, compared to him. She was, after all, only 17.

Oh, crap. Ring up one sulk-fest -- he'd just started brooding again. Why the hell had he randomly brought up the memories he had of his mother? What the hell did she have to do with anything now? Honestly, he was a Master Vampire (although in his current position, he might do well to keep his mouth shut), and if it wasn't for the fact that he was hell-bent and dead-set on bringing about Angelus' ruin, Drusilla's abject humiliation, and both of their destructions, he'd be in the mental ward, kicking himself in the head and what-not.

He let out a frustrated growl and rose up in one lithe motion from his chair. Christ, he wanted to kill something. Violently. Either that, or have a nice, long, hard fuck. Or, preferably, both. The good ol' fuck-an'-feed. Not like Drusilla would mind, the bitch. The whore could kiss his ass, as far as he was concerned. He had no doubts that she would do just that - literally - when Angelus was finally brought down, and then Spike could have the utmost pleasure in denouncing her and kicking her to the curb. Hell, if he wanted to, he'd even let Buffy stake her. That'd take care of the adulterous cunt, once and for all -- nothing stopping him from doing whatever (and whoever) he wanted.

Speaking of doing... He kept bringing Buffy up while he was contemplating his revenge, but even as he did, she was still dancing around in his head -- literally. He could see her as he did that first night -- twisting and shaking, gyrating like a maddening lust-kitten when really, she was just a teenage girl dancing. Reluctant as he was to admit it, while he'd enjoyed the kiss, and the effect that it'd had on her, the effect that it was having on him was giving him something to fear. He'd really enjoyed that kiss, could still taste it on his lips, even now -- she tasted like vanilla, strawberries, honey and chocolate all at once -- and he was going mad with want. He wanted more -- he craved more. His body was straining in their confinements, desperate to chase after that infuriating, blonde-haired bint, kiss her till she was breathless, then pound into her until she screamed for more.

Fuck, he was hard again.

But he knew he couldn't chase after the girl. Not now, at least -- he had to give her some time to stew, to think about their lip-wrestling, before he chased after her and gave her the taste for more... before he gave her the taste of a real man.

Damn. Looks like he'd have to rely on Lefty tonight. Grumbling under his breath, he plopped back into the chair and rolled away into the safety of the house's study, locking the door. In no way did he feel like being Angelus' laughing stock when the pompous ass strutted back down the stairs. Not tonight. Not anymore.

"Buffy! Wake up, it's time for school!"

Grunt. Groan. Turning over now and praying to some form of God that this is just a nightmare.

"Buffy!"

She whined softly. "No..."

"BUFFY!"

The graceful Slayer that she was had decided to sleep in as well. Teenage Gonna-Be-Late-For-School Buffy let out a horrific shriek and tumbled off the end of the bed, landing flat on her stomach. A high-pitched, delighted giggle sounded from the other side, and Buffy looked up warily, thinking she'd find Evil Incarnate preparing to torture her himself. Instead, she found her 12-year-old sister with a maniacal grin on her face, her arms folded across her chest.

Eh, close enough.

"Dawn?" Buffy started sweetly, shifting as her honey-colored hair tumbled down in front of her face.

Dawn instantly went on alert, staring at her with wide, cautious eyes. "What...?"

The Slayer woke up at the sound of her counterpart's ferocity. "RUN."

Whatever she'd seen flashing in Buffy's eyes, she didn't exactly know, but she wasted absolutely no time in doing just as her sister had asked her. Dawn scampered out the door.

Buffy watched her sister from her new seat on the floor, then sighed, flopping backwards. This was not the way to start the day.

A half-hour, several shouts from Joyce that Buffy was going to be late again, a few more arguments between Slayers and Younger-Sisters-That-Can't-Shut-Up-For-Their-Own-Good, and a box of donuts later, and Buffy was finally at school, heading directly for the library. Luckily, the sugar-high from the three raspberry jelly-filled donuts she'd devoured were starting to take effect. She bounced in through the double-swing doors, clutching the box protectively in her arms. Xander was the only one at the research table, and for some reason she didn't understand (or couldn't remember), she found herself being overly cautious and aloof with him.

"Xander," she greeted quietly. "What's doing?"

Xander shrugged, looking down for a moment, before responding. He seemed to be trying his hardest not to make any suggestions that might earn him a beheading. "Nothing major. You know, big apocalypse research, end-of-the-world thing, geometry homework. The usual." His eyes lit up hopefully when he saw the donut box in Buffy's hands. "Jellies?"

Buffy nodded, smirking. Figures. "Don't eat 'em all. Giles'll kill you if you do. Oh, speaking of... Giii-iiles!" she called, glad that her confrontation with Xander had been interrupted by the need for work. She set the box down and turned toward the office. Behind her, she heard the vague sounds of Xander launching a full-frontal assault. "Giles! Anything new on the big World-Endage?"

Giles barely, save for a slight scowl at her lack of serious-ness, glanced up at her from his papers. "Not at the moment, no. I'm sure I've heard something, a legend, about a demon with a sword through his chest, but I can't seem to find any of my bloody manuscripts."

Buffy stared at him silently while he continued to sift. She scratched her arm, then the side of her head. Wriggling slightly, she adjusted her tank-top. After a moment, she looked up, noticing that he was still searching, and (rudely) ignoring her. Finally, she sighed and said, "We've got donuts."

Giles looked up. "Jellies?"

Buffy smiled. "If Xander didn't eat them all by now."

An almost frantic look (for Giles, anyway) came over his face, and he grabbed his papers, standing up and stalking out the door. Buffy grinned to herself when she heard Giles angrily yell, "Xander!" Apparently, her friend had been extremely hungry today.

She walked back outside into the main library and couldn't help but smirk when she saw Giles chastising the young brunet male, who was apparently attempting to become part turtle by shrinking into his shirt. For some reason, it felt oddly satisfying to see Giles yelling at him, but she couldn't for the life of her understand why. Wiggy.

At that moment, Willow pushed open the doors, followed closely by Oz, whose hair was still blue, but a lighter, more vibrant shade. The color seemed awfully familiar for some reason. "Hey, Buffy!" Willow called. Oz raised his hand in greeting, plopping down onto the end of the table and pulling Willow down next to him. Buffy's eyes lingered on the way he gently stroked her best friend's hand with his thumb, feeling a little pang of jealousy inside of her. <No. No, no, no. Not gonna get achy over loosing my boyfriend. It happened, now he's an asshole, and I have to kill him. That's it.>

She shook herself out of her daze and smiled warmly at her red-headed friend. "Hey, Wills. How's it going?"

Willow smiled, sneaking a glance at Oz, as he watched Giles berating Xander curiously. "It's going good. Really good."

Buffy smiled. "That's great." <For you...>

Oz raised his gaze from the duo at the end of the table. "Did we miss something?" he asked.

Buffy shook her head. "Xander ate the jelly donuts without leaving any for Giles."

"I did too!" Xander said back indignantly, then sheepishly pulled out the half of a strawberry jelly that was left. "He's still got this..."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "That's the last time I leave you with the donuts."

Giles scowled, shaking his head and snatching a...blech... glazed. "Anyway. To business." He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, then turned to Buffy. "Has Spike been in any contact with you since you left last night?"

Spike. Buffy's eyes widened as she heard the name. Images came crashing back, and sensations danced across her lips as she recalled everything she had presently forgotten. Spike had kissed her last night. Oh... right. The softness... his gentleness, which was just odd. He'd been kind. Spike... had been kind... What the hell kind of freaky world did she live in? Vampires were supposed to hate her, want her dead, want to taste her blood, right? Instead, Spike, the so-called Slayer of Slayers, had kissed her and, if she wasn't entirely mistaken, had liked it. That was definitely not supposed to happen! Spike didn't have a soul, he was soulless, and he reveled in the kill! She couldn't be all... happy-feeling after he'd kissed her! She wasn't supposed to feel that at all! Her eyes widened even more as the realization struck. Oh, god, she was having happies over a kiss from Spike! A Spike kiss had her all... happy...

Bad Buffy images were starting to push their way into her brain. Somebody had better interrupt soon, or else she just might --

"Buffy?"

She looked up. "Wha -- huh?"

Giles was looking a slight bit worried as he gazed at her. "Are... are you all right? Did you hear me?"

Buffy blinked, shaking her head, before taking a deep breath and meeting her Watcher's gaze head on. "Oh -- er, yeah. Um... no, he hasn't gotten back to me. He doesn't have my phone number, so he can't call, and he doesn't exactly have day-walking priveleges. And it's not like I'd let him in my house or anything, you know?" <Shit! That's exactly what I did! I let the blood-thirsty whore-mongrel into my house! Wait, whore mongrel...? Okay, not the time, Buff...> "So... no. No contact. My guess? We won't get anything new till tonight." <Or until he decides that he wants to take advantage of his new invite and flaunt a dead, bleeding Buffy as a message.>

Actually, if she wanted to be honest, she was half-expecting the library doors to come flying open, and Spike to come barreling through any minute now with his shirt unbuttoned and being blown back by an imaginary wind, every bit the anti-hero. < And every bit as delicious and forbidden > her mind added wickedly.

Buffy sighed to herself. Okay, yeah, she had a thing for the forbidden bad boys. Jeez... First Pike back in Los Angeles, then Angel when she'd first come to Sunnydale, and now she seemed to be getting all bent out of shape over Spike. And Spike was more the forbidden bad boy than either Pike or Angel were.

Grrr.

Oh, Giles was talking. Might want to pay attention this time. "... only to find that certain things have, for some reason, gone missing from my desk, so I suggest that we all reconvene tonight at seven. I presume from what... Spike told us," -- Buffy tried to ignore how distasteful her Watcher sounded when he said the bleach blonde's name -- "that Angelus and Drusilla go out to hunt as soon as the sun sets every night, and do not return until just an hour before dawn. That should give Spike plenty of time to arrive and give us any information he may or may not have."

Buffy nodded slowly. "And meanwhile, I should...?"

Giles glanced at her warmly. "Sit back. Relax. You've been training too hard lately. I don't believe you've had a good night's sleep since..." He trailed off. <Since Angel lost his soul,> Buffy knew he wanted to say. Either that, or <Jenny's death,> which was true, because her ability to sleep had pretty much been wiped out by her guilt over the technopagan's murder. At least she'd been sleeping a bit after Angelus decided to pop out, but not anymore.

Giles drew a deep breath. "Go straight home tonight. Go to sleep. Rest. Eat. Spend some time with your mother, I'm sure she'll be glad to see you home. We," indicating the whole group around him, "shall take over patrol tonight."

Willow hopped off the table next to Oz and put an arm gently around Buffy. "Tell ya what. You can even start now!"

Giles instantly began to protest. "Now, Willow, I meant she must still stay in class --"

The young hacker nodded earnestly. "Oh, I know. But Algebra Two/Trig is next, and Buffy always falls asleep in that class, so I figure, what a great way to start the day, you know?"

Buffy tried hard not to grin at the frown on Giles's face. It would've been just too easy to make a crack, but not even poor Giles seemed up to chastising her for it today. "Thanks, Giles. Please don't get killed tonight, and, like, arm yourselves to the nose with crucifixes and stuff, 'kay?"

Xander looked at her, confused. "Uh, don't you mean, 'arm yourselves to the teeth,' Buff?"

Buffy shrugged. "Teeth, nose, whatever. It's all up there. Wear bullet-proof, holy-water drenched, cross-covered vests if you have to, just don't let yourselves get killed, or even injured."

Oz nodded. "Got any weapons we can borrow?"

Buffy sighed, biting her lower lip. "There are the ones down here, in Giles's weapons chest, and then I've got a few, say, hundred bottles of holy water at home, plus stakes, and the crosses and my crossbow. I'll drop by at lunch and get them." She suddenly became very severe, standing straight and glaring at everyone in the room. "Anyone even plucks the trigger wrong, and I'll hunt you down. That crossbow is my baby."

Xander saluted. "Check. Don't trigger Buffy's baby." He froze for a moment, frowning in confusion. "Wait a minute, that sounded a lot more... um..."

"Ludicrous?" Willow supplied.

Xander snapped his fingers. "That's it. It sounded more lunacrust than I meant it."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Sure, Buffy with a baby is lunacrust. Why don't we just call me hopeless, too?"

Xander shrugged sheepishly, saying "Sorry," as Willow rolled her eyes and corrected both of them at the same time, "It's ludicrous."

Giles frowned. "What's ludicrous?"

Willow's eyes widened, and she groaned, putting her head in her hands. Oz comforted her, patting her back gently, a vague curl at the corners of his lips visible. "This entire conversation, apparently."

Buffy giggled, gently tugging Willow from Oz's grasp and placing an arm around her. "Come on, Wills. I need to catch up on some sleep next class." Willow nodded, smiling slightly, while Buffy turned and waved to her Watcher. "Thanks again, Giles. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Giles nodded. "Of course."

Buffy tugged Willow out the double doors of the library, Oz trailing behind. Xander lingered slightly over the donut box, so long that he let out a yip when Giles slapped his hand on the desk, giving him a thunderous scowl.

"Xander, get to class!"

He hadn't shown up tonight. Well, he had, but he apparently hadn't stayed long. Giles had called her, telling her that Spike had come into the library, only to find that Buffy was not there, and had backed out again instantly, not coming back when Giles had called him.

"Were you going to try and kill him?" she'd asked her Watcher.

"Possibly," Giles had replied.

Buffy had grinned, then started laughing. "Then there's your answer, Research Man."

Giles had given her an indignant huff, chastised her for her lack of respect to her elders, not that those chastisings actually got anywhere, then ordered her to eat dinner and bade her good night.

So now she was sleeping, as she had been all afternoon after she'd gone down to eat dinner with Joyce and Dawn. Joyce had been ecstatic at finally having her eldest join her for a good home-cooked meal. "We've seen so less of you recently that we were wondering if you'd moved out!" Joyce had told her. Dawn had sulked. "That means I can't have your room, huh?" she'd asked, receiving a nasty glare from Buffy and a whap upside the head in response.

Sleep was good. Sleep was really good, although her sheets were beginning to feel funny after hacing been there all day. And that damn shiver running up and down her spine was driving her crazy. It usually wasn't so damn cold in Sunnydale at night.

She wondered vaguely why Spike hadn't stuck around when he'd seen that she wasn't there. After all, without the Slayer hovering over him, he could have easily gone after the rest of the group and killed them. <But no,> her thoughts reminded her, <Spike wants to get rid of Angelus and Dru as badly as you do. He probably wouldn't have breached a promise.>

<But did he really promise me that he wouldn't harm anyone, or was that just something he said to appease my threats?> another voice asked.

Stupid indecisions. How funny that she would begin to have doubts after she had already taken him into the Anti-Angelus movement. Shouldn't she have had the doubts prior to her decision? Hadn't she? Eh, go figure.

She nearly screeched when a weight settled down next to her on the bed. Instantly, she tried to spin around, but found that cool, rough hands were holding her down, one arm pinning her arms to her sides, the other reaching around her and covering her mouth. Slowly, carefully, she was turned over, and the body slid on top of her, straddling her legs. The hand moved off of her mouth, joining the other hand in holding her arms steady. An sparkling pair of cerulean blue eyes peered down at her intently. She gaped.

"Spike?" she spat. "What the hell are you doing in my room?" she asked in disbelief.

Spike smirked. He could take her right now, and she would never say a word. He had uncovered her mouth and given her the chance to scream bloody murder, but she hadn't done it. And his body wasn't holding her down that securely. Buffy could twist free at any moment.

He'd been thinking about her all morning, really. After the first hand-job he'd had, he'd stared down in disbelief and encountered the fact that, yes, he was still up and hard and, yes, it was because he was thinking about her. His cock had been very sore by the time the sun had set, and he'd managed to clean up very well when Angelus and Drusilla had made their nightly torture visit into the study to see him. And, he'd made a resolution to himself. Since Buffy seemed to be the one causing his suddenly perpetual hardness, Buffy could be the one to take care of it. The minute Angelus and Dru had left, Spike had taken off for Revello Drive. <Thank God Buffy invited me in,> he thought as he gazed down at her.

The little bitch looked lovely as always. Her hair was sprawled all over her pillow, and it was sort of sticking up. Her jaw was set, and her lips were pressed together in a furious line, her eyes gazing back at him in shock and hate and disbelief. She was wearing a dark green tank top with thin straps on the shoulders, and a pair of black cotton boxers. He peered over the side of the bed, searching for scraps of underwear, and almost instantly, he detected small cotton panties flung toward the laundry basket.

Ah, perfect. She was ready, if not willing, and very fuckable. His cock strained against his jeans with the thought.

"Do you think I haven't noticed how you look at me, Summers?" he started, smirking hungrily down at her. "You think I haven't noticed the way you smell when you look at me? That I can't tell that I make you wetter'n the Pacific Ocean?" Buffy gasped in shock, and Spike's smirk widened. She hadn't. She really hadn't realized that vampires could smell arousal. But as he pressed down against her, he realized that she knew all-too-well the effects she had on most vampires.

Buffy gave another sharp gasp as he began rubbing his hips against hers. That had to be the hardest thing she had ever felt in her life! What the hell was in this guy's pants, the Empire State Building?

The Slayer Warning bell was going off in her head, screaming, Danger, Danger!, and she instantly began to struggled, trying to get out from underneath him. What the hell had suddenly brought this on? She knew that Spike had, for reasons unknown to her, developed some kind of attraction to her -- hell, she'd seen it on his face yesterday, she hadn't needed that kiss -- but why all of a sudden was he in her room, rubbing against her like a cat in heat, and hard enough to cut glass? The only aroused part of a male she had really come in contact with had been Angel's... and it hadn't felt as hard as this. Spike seemed to be at a breaking point -- almost literally.

He shoved her down roughly when she began to struggle, then, one hand still holding her arms above her head, he lowered the other to her thinly-covered breast. When he squeezed, Buffy gave a soft moan, and almost instantly relaxed. Spike gave a predatory smirk. Perfect. One squeeze, and she was putty in his hands. He reached up and tugged the strap of her tank top down, then lowered the cloth, uncovering one small, perfect, milky-white breast.

Oh, hell. If Buffy was putty, Spike was pretty much Jell-O. Groaning softly, he lowered his head and captured the tiny, berry-colored nipple in his mouth, sucking it between his teeth. Buffy gave a soft cry, arching up under him, pressing her breast further into his face. <Oh, God,> she thought. He hadn't even put his fingers down there, and here, she was half-way to her climax already. What was it about him that made her hormones get so damn overcharged?!

Thoughts of Angel, of her friends, of her mother and Dawn being in the other rooms flew out of her head as Spike's hand began to creep down her body. Tugging lightly on the elastic of her boxers, he slipped his hand inside, fingers curling into her mound. At the feel of his slightly chilled fingers, Buffy snapped to attention again, trying to push him away. Anything to get away from him. This was Spike she was here with! How could she be doing this? How could she even let herself think of letting him touch her?! He was vile, disgusting, a demon, dead, and most of all, the enemy...

He slipped one finger inside of her, testing her arousal, while his thumb began to circle the small swollen button of nerves. Buffy's Anti-Spike thoughts froze.

But god did his hands feel good...

She moaned again, softly, beginning to thrust against his hand as his fingers pumped into her. How had no one ever made her feel like this, physically or otherwise?

Resolved, she allowed herself to give in, just this once. It wasn't as if he had a soul to lose, and one night with him couldn't hurt, if she failed to prevent the apocalypse.

If Spike was the devil, then he'd better reserve her a seat right next to him in Hell.

"Yes... yes," she moaned.

Spike was practically salivating.

He had climbed the tree after he had left the high school to take a peek at the Slayer and see what was wrong with her. And that was when he'd seen her all cuddled up in bed, blankets piled up over her head. It figured. She'd just been tired, and Watcher Boy had given her the night off.

So he'd swung himself onto the tree branch closest to her window, preparing to pop in, give her a good scare, then haul her out to the cemetery to possibly get in a shot at killing Angelus or Dru. But then, she'd shifted, and the strap of her tank top had fallen down her shoulder.

And then... her hands had started to travel up and down her sides. And when one hand had reached her breast, she'd slid her hand into her top, and gently squeezed it, giving out a low moan. Her legs had begun to thrash under the covers, and, seeing as how they had been clumped up on the edge of the bed anyway, one swift kick had knocked them all off, leaving her to Spike's view in a pair of black boxers shorts. And...

His eyes widened. Her other hand was inside the shorts. And her moans were gaining pleasure.

So now, Spike sat there on the branch, intently watching the Slayer finger herself, desperately trying not to drool on himself, and savagely squeezing the big insatiable lump in his jeans.

And then he heard it, so low that were he not a vampire, it would have gone unnoticed. As it was, it shocked him so badly that he fell right out of the tree with a yelp.

After a moment of wondering why all the bad things on earth seemed to happen to him, he sat up and relaxed against the trunk of the tree. And then he'd smiled.

Glancing down, he gave his crotch a reassuring pat, saying softly, "Don't worry. You'll get your treat soon enough." Then he stretched slightly, and groaned as he stood up.

Walking away from 1630 Revello Drive, Spike's smile grew as his mind replayed the softly whispered cry again.

"Spike!"
 
 

TBC...

Part 5....
 
 

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