Chapter Seventeen: Don't Let Him Hurt the Girl

Giles guardedly stood before Spike, gazing down at the slumbering and immobile vampire. He heard of what had happened the previous night. Not that he had believed it at first, but when he saw Oz’s mangled cage door and the bite marks on Spike’s pale shoulders, he knew that the stories were true.

After the Watcher had discovered that Willow had foolishly disengaged the hindrance spell, he had had Spike chained to the cement pillar with the binds triply reinforced. Spike had some of his strength back but hopefully the tranquilizer Xander had fortuitously shot the vampire with would stay in affect for a while longer. Giles suspected that even if Spike awoke, it would take him a while to recover from the drug since he had lost a fair amount of blood. For now, Giles allowed the bugger to sleep; he at least deserved that much after saving Xander and Willow.

Giles still couldn’t believe that he was actually giving the supposed rescue any creditability. Why would Spike save two humans when he could have easily hightailed it out of there? He had been freed, but had chosen to stay instead, if only just to make sure that Giles’s two most valued team members, two people the Watcher considered to be his surrogate children, hadn’t been turned into werewolf food. It was just too mind-boggling.

Willow had also informed him about what she had heard the vampire mutter as he had deliriously slept. It had confirmed what Giles had suspected, what had sent him bolting like a madman out of the basement, completely stunned by the revelation. Spike loved the girl. He was hopelessly in love with Buffy and was worried sick about her.

Giles hated that he had made the pact with Damon, and though he claimed good intentions, deep down he knew he had just wanted to get his hand on the platinum haired vampire and do horrible things to him. He had wanted justice for Sarah and revenge for the pain Spike had caused him. But now he realized that giving Damon exactly what he had wanted was probably the biggest mistake he’d ever made. According to Spike, Damon was going to go after Buffy and the longer the vampire remained trapped in this basement, the less likely she would be found alive. Yet Giles couldn’t shake his distrust for Spike. How did he know that the vampire was telling the truth? That question was the motivating factor for what he was about to do next.

Tightly gripping the glass of water in his hand, Giles dumped the cold liquid on Spike’s face. The vampire spurted, promptly stirring him awake. His head was pounding something fierce and it took a few moments for his eyes to focus, the hazy fog from the tranq drug slowly subsiding. He groaned when he felt the pinch of the rusty old chains against his bare chest, groggily glancing to his sides to see that he was snugly secured to the same pillar. Spike hissed when he felt the air hit the werewolf bite wounds he’d sustained the night before from fending off the sodding overgrown dog. He tried to ignore the pain as he blearily stared up at Giles. “What you want now?”

Giles didn’t answer Spike’s question, lowering the empty drinking glass to the floor as he picked up a spell book and an already lit bundle of sacred, yet considerably stinky, herbs. Whisking billows of the incense over Spike’s head, Giles ignored the befuddled looks coming from the vampire.

“What the bloody hell are you doing? What? You gonna aromatherapy me to death?” Spike sarcastically inquired, his slightly muffled voice croaking.

“No. I just need to make sure you’re telling the truth,” Giles explained, continuing to wave the stick of burning herbs above Spike.

The semi-alert vampire growled softly in annoyance. “Great. Another spell. Anybody ever tell you ‘bout the consequences of magic, mate?”

“Only use it in necessary circumstances. And determining if you’re being truthful about Buffy’s whereabouts is quite necessary,” Giles half mindedly stated as he flipped through the spell book, finding the right page.

The overwhelming rage that rapidly bubbled up within Spike permitted his mind a short reprieve of clarity from the persistent residual grogginess of the tranquilizer. He wished he had the strength to rip off the chains that were holding him down so that he could the rip the fucking has-been Watcher a new one.

“You fucking tellin’ me that you coulda used a soddin’ truth spell in the first place?!” Spike heatedly screamed at Giles, his wild azure eyes were large, sparkling with blinded fury.

At Giles’s non-responsive behavior, Spike went berserk. “You fucking pillock! I knew you were a sick sadistic prick! Just had to lay it on me, didn’t ya? I swear to God if Buffy dies I will kill you! And I’ll make sure you get every ounce of mercy you showed me,” he madly shouted. As quickly as it had appeared, the short spurt of adrenaline that had allowed for his outburst had swiftly disappeared, leaving Spike feeling even weaker than when the witch had had cast her hindrance spell. Panting for unnecessary breath, he exhaustedly continued, suddenly taking on an eerie, whispering tone. “Better pray she’s okay, Watcher. Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if she’s not.”

Giles continued to ignore Spike’s threats, desperately trying to hide his trembling hand as he suppressed the gnawing fear the vampire’s words had involuntarily induced. Giles could act as tough as he’d like but he was still only human, and very much afraid of what an enraged vampire like Spike could do to him.

Clearing the fright from his throat, the Watcher began to read from the spell book. “Elobe, enemy, be now, quiet. Let your deceitful tongue be quelled. Let no untruths be spoken. Remove your insincere intentions. So with these words, let thy deceitful will vanish, and let the true essence of this creature emerge,” the Watcher finished, slamming the book shut in his one hand.

“How we ‘sposed to know if your lil’ incantation worked?” Spike grumbled as he looked around to see if anything around him had changed.

“Are you a vampire?” Giles asked to test out the spell.

“Yes,” Spike instantly blurted out, a bemused expression contorting his face. “Bloody hell. Didn’t even give me a chance to think.”

“That’s the point,” the Watcher retorted, slightly irritated. “Where is Buffy?”

Again Spike’s mouth flew open, responding to Giles’s question before he could even mentally comprehend what exactly was being asked. “At the main house.” Spike growled. “Alright! You got what you needed, now lemme go!” he demanded, straining against his restraints though he barely had enough energy to keep his head up.

Giles however readied to ask another question. “Do you love Buffy?”

“Yes.”

Spike’s eyes were wide in bewilderment, his pallor appearing to have turned a few shades paler. “You knew?”

“Willow and Xander heard you in your sleep,” Giles stated, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. He didn’t really want to get into the semantics of his own deductions from their last encounter.

The vampire stared down at the floor, once again confused, his eyes flicking back and forth as he tried to remember what he had dreamt about. The images of Buffy lying dead on her bed, the sheets soaked, stained in her crimson splattered blood, with Damon’s brutal marks covering his own on the white-blue skin of her neck, all flooded back to him. He must have unconsciously uttered those three little words out loud in his restless sleep when the witch and that moronic whelp were watching over him. They must have told Giles. Spike didn’t know whether he liked the idea of the ex-Watcher knowing about his true feelings for Buffy. It held a bit of power over him, made him vulnerable, which in the hands of his enemies was a dangerous weapon. Giles now knew his one and only weakness, his proverbial green kryptonite, but if the Watcher was the white hat, do-gooder type he made himself out to be, Spike shouldn’t have anything to worry about. In theory, with this newfound information, Giles would release him; wish him on his merry way to save the girl. In theory.

Though he had hidden it well, Giles was disturbed by Spike’s affirmation of love for the missing California girl. Even if Spike sincerely thought he was in love with Buffy, but was actually projecting some sort of morbid obsession instead, he would have answered ‘no’. The spell was a truth spell, it revealed actual fact, and not what Spike believed felt was true. Yet the moral quandary lay in the fact that he had answered ‘yes’. If Spike, a vampire, could learn to genuinely love someone, could other vampires as well? Were other vampires capable of love? Was it a love solely for Buffy or did he also have other feelings toward general humanity? The incident with Oz last night told Giles that perhaps it was possible. Was Spike growing a conscience?

Removing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose as the questions circled around in his head. The previous night’s sleep had been restless for Giles; his inner demons had spent the majority of his semi-conscious hours battling with the guilt he could no longer stave off. Did exacting revenge in the name of one girl, justify the possible death of another? If Spike was telling the truth about Damon, Giles might have unwillingly condemned the girl to an early grave. Not to mention that the shame of his recent actions had also surfaced. He had woken up that morning, unable to look at himself in the mirror. If Sarah were still alive, she’d be incredibly disappointed in him. Slipping his glasses back on his face, Giles took a deep soothing breath. He now definitely knew what had to be done.

“So now you know. I haven’t been lying. Buffy’s in danger and you need to let me go,” Spike told him calmly, making sure the Watcher understood the seriousness of the situation.

“How do I know you won’t just get up and kill me when I unlock those chains?” Giles asked, slight trepidation evident in his voice.

“I won’t,” immediately flew out of Spike’s mouth. The vampire let out a loud frustrated growl, annoyed by his inability to control his own vocal chords. “Can you bloody well undo the spell already?”

Giles nodded. “Elobe, return.”

“That’s it?” Spike asked skeptically. “Didn’t even have to wave that foul smellin’ herb stick of yours.”

"It’s inactivated,” Giles reassured as he pulled out a set of keys. “Now when I unlock these chains…”

His words were cut off by the sudden crash of shattering glass, two dark figures slipping their way into the basement through the only two small windows. Before he could react, a fist flew at Giles, knocking him out cold.

“It’s about time you two got here,” Spike griped as he stared up at the welcomed intruders.

“Took a while to track you down,” Vincent explained as he worked the chains, trying to ignore the horrible shape his leader was in.

Natasha stared down at the human she’d punched out. “Wouldn’t have taken so long if you had told someone about the raid on the warehouse,” she complained as she scanned the room, her brown eyes finally making out the leather duster draped over the back of a foldout chair that was in one dark corner. Walking to it, the vampiress pulled it off the chair, picking up a set of keys out of Giles’s relaxed hand as she made her way to Spike’s side to undo the locks.

When the chains clanked to the floor, Spike slowly rose to his feet, his knees aching terribly from having spent his whole stay in that basement in a constantly crouched position. He wobbled a bit, feeling dizzy. He hadn’t fully recovered yet; his vamp healing was starting to gradually kick in but he needed to feed if he wanted to speed it along. Spike didn’t have time for that, though. He had to get to Buffy.

Without needing to be told, Natasha slipped the duster on Spike while Vincent stood at his side, supporting him as they headed to one of the windows to make a discreet getaway. Natasha stopped, with the other two vampires also halting at her sudden pause. Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at the unconscious Watcher. “Shouldn’t we kill him first?”

Spike wasn’t surprised by the question. Giles was after all Damon’s co-conspirator. He was the human that had dared to inflict pain on their leader. Spike was surprised he didn’t have to restrain Natasha from exterminating the nuisance of a Watcher. He looked back at the man on the cement floor and slowly shook his platinum head. “There’s no time.” It was the only explanation Spike gave. His real reason however lay in what had transpired between him and Giles. The cathartic hours of torture, both physical and emotional, had provided a rare insight into one another’s’ psyches. Spike wouldn’t necessarily call it a truce, or even dare to presume that all was forgiven, but he did feel like him and the Watcher had an understanding. It was why Giles had been about to free Spike and in return, it was the reason why the vampire let him live. Spike figured he owed the Watcher as much, seeing as how he killed his Slayer.

With that last thought, Spike slipped out of the basement window with his friends’ assistance. The cold night air hit the wounds on the parts of his chest that weren’t concealed by his duster, making the pain he thought that had subsided return with a vengeance. The blood loss was making the world spin all round him, making it near impossible to walk in a straight line. Even though he could barely stand upright, Spike didn’t let it deter him. The clock was ticking. He needed to kill Damon before the asshole could lay a finger on Buffy.


********



Buffy wrapped the covers tighter around her shivering body as she stared out the room’s large window, watching the last hints of light in the sky fade into the dark of night. She had to get up; the blanket of sunlight that protected her during the day, the only time when she could get her few fitful hours of sleep, was gone. Groaning, she threw the blankets off of her as she enfolded the red shirt she was wearing around her small form. It was Spike’s, the one he had taken off that last day she had seen him, the day he had disappeared. Buffy had opted to wear it instead of her pjs for the past two nights, finding comfort in its scent. It still smelled like him.

Pulling out her crudely fashioned stake from under her pillow, Buffy sat diligently on the bed, bringing her chin down to her drawn up knees as her hazel eyes settled upon the wooden door on the other side of the room. Ever since Vincent and Natasha had told her Spike was missing, the lonely dangerous nights had almost become unbearable. It was the third night she was to stay up and wait. Wait to see if it would be that night when a vampire would finally make its way up to her room. She tried to be brave, but the anxiety of not knowing if this day would be her last was finally taking its toll. She was beyond paranoia; every creek, every breeze of wind sent her onto full out alert mode. Buffy was exhausted and just wanted this perpetual nightmare to end.

Reading William’s journal no longer provided the much needed distraction like it once had. In the long dark hours that she was awake, she tried to keep her mind sharp and her body ready for the inevitable. Yet as hard as she tried, her thoughts would wander to what had happened the day Spike left. Her regret would rematerialize at least once a night. Buffy knew that if he were to just walk through those doors, she’d forgive him. At this point, she’d even be willing to beg him for forgiveness.

Seconds of waiting would pass into minutes which would then form into hours. Hours of deafening silence without the slightest indication as to what her fate would be. She didn’t want to fall asleep, but the darkness of the room and the soft mattress beneath her were just too welcoming. It didn’t help either that she’d only gotten about three hours of sleep during the day. Her eyes drooped, opening and closing as she halfheartedly fought off the wave of fatigue that threatened to put an end to her night watch.

Her eyes opened.

Closed.

Opened.

Closed.

Opened…to Damon, who was menacingly smiling at her from the open doorway.

“Hello, Buffy.”

His words instantly snapped her out of her stupor and she flew to her feet, jumping behind the big bed to put it between her and the vampire. Getting into fighting stance, desperately hoping her black belt skills weren’t too rusty, she raised her stake in her right hand while holding out her left to block. This was what she’d been dreading. Damon was here to kill her.

Damon chuckled as he swaggered into the room, looking like a wolf on the prowl. His grey eyes mischievously ran over her body, taking note of her defensive posture. It only made him laugh louder.

Buffy couldn’t pinpoint it at first, but there was something about the laughter that seemed so familiar. The way her body responded to it, shivering and having the strangest urge to run for her life, was also very unsettling.

The dream.

She almost dropped her stake when she realized that Damon’s laugh was the exact same one that had plagued her nightmares for weeks. A wash of memories soon invaded her mind, bringing her back to the night she had been kidnapped. She had been running out of the club, into a back alleyway, fleeing from the laughter as a vampire chased her. The details of that fateful evening were still a little hazy but now looking back, Buffy knew it was Damon who had been that unknown vamp. She remembered getting later cornered by a group of vampires and though she couldn’t recall, she assumed Damon had been amongst them, no doubt leading the pack. Buffy had beaten them off as best she could but one vampire almost did her in. Luckily, or unluckily depending on which way you looked at it, Vincent and Natasha had shown up, pulling the vampire off of her and claiming her for the Master instead.

It all made perfect sense now. That night was subconsciously haunting her and that laughter was the soundtrack. Though she tried, she couldn’t tune it out. Damon’s derange cackling was still as chilling as the first time she’d heard it.

“Well, aren’t you the poster girl for wannabe Vampire Slayers everywhere?” the vampire coyly asked as the strolled toward her.

“Don’t you dare get any closer,” Buffy warned, her voice tight, not wanting him to know how terrified she was.

Damon kept on moving forward, unheeding her warning, the stupid arrogant smile still plastered on his face as he took a long whiff of the concentrated fear in the air. “What’re you gonna do? Stake me?”

“You can count on it,” Buffy sourly retorted, her grip on her stake tightening.

Damon let out a muffled giggle before glancing up at the ceiling, shouting in disbelief. “God, you’re so delusional!”

Buffy jumped a little at the outburst but she kept firm, refusing to be intimidated. She knew she had been right to dislike Damon; he was a complete psycho!

Damon marched closer to the bed, which made Buffy take a few steps back in retreat. “Your little karate moves might work on a fledge who’s got his back turned, but never on me,” he stated, placing his hands down on the bed top as he leaned forward, his face shifting into its vampire manifestation. “I sure as hell ain’t no fledge.”

With a roar, Damon leapt into the air, jumping over the bed to where Buffy was. She bolted from him, instinctively choosing flight over fight, trying to get the hell away as she ran to the open door. She suddenly felt herself get forcefully knocked down, sending her stake out of her hand as it skidded across the white tiled floor. Turning over, she looked up to see Damon, standing over her, still in game face.

“Spike didn’t put up much of a fight either,” Damon cheerfully remarked, loving the unadulterated terror in her large sparkling eyes. And her scent! Oh, it was nothing but pure fear coming off of this girl.

Buffy felt her throat close up as she inched away from the vampire. Had Damon killed Spike? She started to get up to run away when he effortlessly picked her up and threw her across the room. Buffy flew over the black leather couch, painfully landing on the floor between it and the television. Groaning, she tried to pick herself up, ignoring the searing pain in her ribs and hip. Reaching beneath the couch, she pulled out the second stake she kept hidden there. Quickly tucking it away in the sleeve of Spike’s red shirt, she stood back up and readied herself to face Damon again.

“Is that all you got?” Buffy defiantly asked, wheezing out a cough.

Damon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, it’s not,” he answered, walking to her.

Buffy slowly backed away around one end of the couch as Damon rounded the other. She kept a good distance between herself and the vamp, using the large black sofa as an obstacle he would have to cross to get to her. ‘Okay, let’s try this again,’ she thought as she resumed the fighting stance she had abandoned earlier. Buffy grew worried when Damon didn’t move; he only stood there trying to suppress the boisterous macabre laughter that seemed to be consistently coming out of his mouth. ‘Is this guy on a permanent supply of nitrous oxide or something?’

“I’ve been waiting for this since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he stated casually, his gaze roaming over her body. Buffy didn’t say anything, watching carefully for any change in demeanor, anticipating for his swift lunge over the couch.

“I knew you were going to be trouble. Spike took too much of a liking to you,” he said as he slowly walked around the big piece of furniture. With every step he took forward, Buffy took two back, gradually retreating toward the open door.

Damon’s grey eyes settled on the wounds on her neck, a wide smile splaying across his lips. “I wonder how sweet you taste.”

Freaked by his comment, Buffy erroneously turned her back to the vamp, sprinting for the exit. A growl reached her ears and before she knew it, Damon was standing right in front of her, blocking her path to the door. She flinched at the unexpectedness of his appearance, inwardly cursing that damned vampire speed.

“Ah, ah, ah. We’re not done here yet, Buffy,” he gleefully said, waving his finger in her face.

She had had enough. Buffy laid into Damon, throwing punch after punch, which unfortunately he seemed to easily duck and dodge. She finally pulled out the stake she had hidden and tried to plunge it into his chest, but before the wooden tip could even tickle his chest, the vampire caught her by the wrist, twisting it behind her back as he spun her around. Damon grabbed her other flaying arm and secured both appendages to her lower back, yanking the weapon out of her hand and assertively tossing it to the floor. Holding on tight, he lowered his misshapen face to her ear, growling lightly as she continued to struggle against him.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he throatily whispered.

“What the hell are you talking about,” Buffy asked, still trying to break free from his hold.

“The night we captured you, before the raid, you were on the dance floor,” he started to explain, his creepy calm voice sending shivers down Buffy’s spine. “I was there too, ya know. Checking things out, scouting out the club. Don’t you remember me Buffy? You should, you smiled at me.”

At first Buffy thought Damon was completely full of shit, that he was only doing it to mess with her head. Then she remembered she had given a tall, dark and handsome hottie on the other side of the dance floor one of her flirty, ‘come and get it’ looks. It couldn’t have been Damon though. She would have recognized him from that night. Damon was a total creep and she so would not hit on him…right? Buffy’s mind raced, trying to relate the image of Damon that she had come to know these past few months with the chaotic memories of that night. Almost as though something within her head clicked, she knew. Buffy gasped at the realization. It was him.

“I knew you’d remember,” Damon chuckled hoarsely.

“So I smiled at you. Big whoop. I still don’t know what you’re trying to get at?” Buffy angrily wondered.

Damon’s hold on her shifted, taking her two rebellious hands in his one strong grasp. Raising the free hand to her neck, he traced Spike’s bite marks. It didn’t elicit any kind of a response from her, like when Spike touched her, other than a slight shudder from its unexpectedness.

“W-what are you doing?” Buffy asked, somewhat sickened by his gentle caress.

“Wanna know a secret?” he answered with another question, ignoring Buffy’s distressed query. Not waiting for her response, he continued. “You were supposed to be mine.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she gritted out, officially getting freaked out by Damon’s change in attitude.

Spining her around so that she faced him, he firmly kept her hands locked behind her as he crushed Buffy’s body against his. She gasped when she felt his burgeoning erection grind against her stomach. As her terrified stare locked with his hungry amber gaze, Buffy knew it wasn’t just her blood that he wanted. Squirming in his grip, Buffy wriggled, thrashed and kicked but to no avail. She couldn’t break free. This couldn’t be happening. The mere thought of Damon touching her in any way, especially in a sexual manner, made her want to violently retch.

“Yeah well, I’m not yours. I’m Spike’s,” she replied with conviction as she disgustedly looked him in the eyes.

“Actually, you belong to the Master of this clan,” Damon good-humoredly corrected. “And with Spike gone, guess what that makes me?”

Before she could respond, Damon threw her again, tossing her through the air and onto the large bed. With another roar, he pounced on top of her, loving how she futilely attempted to fight him off. Straddling her thighs as he pinned her arms over her head, Damon leered at her flustered flushing face, seeing the searing hatred burning in her hazel eyes as she glared up at him.

“That night, when I saw you dancing, I knew I wanted you,” he told her huskily, lowering one hand down the curves of her body. “I wanted to make you mine.”

“I’d rather die,” Buffy gritted out, completely repulsed.

Damon slapped her across the face. “Shut up!” he hollered. “I saw you first! I fucking spent the night running after you! And I sent my minions out to bring you in! Not Spike!” Damon madly ranted.

His hand slowly returned to where it had been traveling, stroking the swell of her breast above the silk barrier of Spike’s red shirt. He giggled a little. “Then Tash and Vince come along and say that we gotta bring something back for Spike. Gotta make sure the boss is happy. So of course they take you away cuz you were the only thing still left alive,” he bitterly remarked. “He took you away from me.”

Buffy shuddered, unable to extricate herself from his molesting touch. “Get the fuck off of me!” she furiously ordered.

Again he ignored her. “I didn’t get to claim you, drink from you. I didn’t get to turn you,” he lamented before he broke out into another fit of giggles. “Then…then Spike had the fucking nerve to keep you alive!” he bellowed, his hand traveling down her body. “If he had offed you, made a meal of you like a vamp’s supposed to do, I could have gotten over it. But instead, he keeps you around, gets blind sighted, forgetting about us, his own fucking clan! He even rubs it in our faces and fucks you for all of us to see. His precious little Buffy,” he bitterly snarled, as his hand snuck beneath the hem of the red shirt, skimming the toned muscles of her stomach before tracing the waist band of her panties.

Buffy shouted, thrashing beneath him, trying to pull away. “No…don’t touch me,” she growled as she desperately struggled against his vice-like grip.

“Bet I know why he keeps you alive,” he lustfully commented as one of his fingers slipped beneath her underwear, teasingly stroking the milky smooth skin near her sex, making it involuntarily quiver.

Buffy thought she was going to throw up. A mixture of fear, anger and pure revulsion boiled within her. She felt the tears start to well up, but she fought them back; Buffy didn’t want to give Damon the fucking pleasure of seeing her cry. He could rape her, violate her, kill her but she refused to let him see her cry.

“When Spike gets back, he will kill you,” she stated matter-of-factly, pushing away the fear that threatened to trigger the panic that was on the verge of taking her over.

Damon lowered his face to hers, smiling widely at her determinedly sickened face. “Don’t you mean if Spike gets back?” he smugly retorted, moving his mouth to her neck with a rumble in his throat. “Even if he isn’t dusted, it won’t matter. You’ll be mine, in every sense of the word,” he quietly whispered against her throat, his fangs grazing against Spike’s marks on her neck, ready to plunge into the column of flesh.

“No,” Buffy weakly pleaded, her body unable to fend him off any longer, unwillingly caving into her exhaustion.

She shrieked, when his soft touch suddenly turned rough and ripped off her panties, leaving her bottom half completely exposed. This was it. He was gonna rape her and then turn her into a vampire. She didn’t want to believe Spike was gone for good. She didn’t want to think that even if he did eventually return, he’d be too late. Buffy simply couldn’t stomach the thought of being Damon’s for all eternity. She just couldn’t.

Under her breath, her eyes tightly shut, she tried to escape herself. “He will come for me. He will come for me. He will come for me…” she softly mantraed, hoping it wasn’t a prayer made in vain.

A cold hand grabbed her chin, jerking her head violently. Buffy immediately opened her eyes to see Damon staring down at her, infuriated by the fact that he had been unable to break her spirit. He was rightly pissed that she still believed Spike would save her. “Get it through that air headed, blonde brain of yours. He. Is. NEVER. Coming. Bac–”

Damon was suddenly flying backwards in the air, nearly crashing through the far wall near the door. Buffy blinked a few times, unsure of what had just happened. That was until she peered up and saw Spike standing above her, his chest heaving as he stared down at her. Both fury and sheer terror danced in his sharp blue eyes as he possessively looked over her vulnerable and exposed form. Buffy soon noticed Natasha and Vincent standing a few feet behind him, which made her sit up to cover herself for decency’s sake. Her focus returned to Spike, her eyes sparkling as pure happiness played across her face. He was back.

“’llo luv,” Spike said, smiling brightly at her, before dropping to his knees and partly collapsing into her arms.

Buffy panicked. “Spike? Spike?” she desperately tried to wake him. She then noticed the bruises and cuts on his face, and she could feel something wet dripping down her leg. Shifting her gaze to the floor, she saw blood pooling at her feet. “Oh, God. Spike.”

Her eyes instantly flew past the two silent vampires, searching for the one responsible for Spike’s present state. Yet, when her focus landed on the far wall, Damon was gone; only a small indentation in the cracking drywall remained. Glancing to Natasha and Vincent, she realized they had also noticed the renegade vampire’s departure.

“Take care of Spike. We’ll deal with Damon,” Vincent said, his voice devoid of any emotion though his eyes sparkled with unsung rage. The two turned on their heels and marched out the door, leaving Buffy alone with Spike.

Staring down at his platinum blonde head in her lap, his body kneeling before her, unconscious to the world, she finally allowed the tears to fall. Bellowing out a guttural sob, she lowered her head to Spike’s, crying into his disheveled platinum curls. Her tears were for what she had been through, for the pain Spike had had to endure, and for the fear that still dwelled within her that she would never see him again. But mostly, they were happy tears, momentously joyful in the fact that Spike had been returned to her. From now on, Buffy had the reassurance that everything would be alright, and even if it was a little presumptuous, she didn’t care.

Her Spike was back.

A/N: For anyone who isn't a science nerd like me, nitrous oxide is the chemical name for laughing gas.

*Also, part of the truth spell was taken from the episode Something Blue
 

Chapter Eighteen: Reunited

The sound of an incoherent murmur slowly pulled Buffy out of her dreamless sleep. Her eyes opened to the sight of a pretty beaten up Spike, who was whimpering slightly in pain as he slept.

Last night, after she had wiped away the last of her tears, Buffy had instantly gone on autopilot, running to the window to close the large heavy black curtains to keep out the looming morning sun. After hauling Spike up onto the bed to examine him by sparse candlelight, she had realized that when he had thrown Damon across the room he must have reopened some of his already healing wounds. Her hands had fluttered over his battered flesh, her eyes making out large bite marks all over his shoulder and deep round gashes in his chest. His skin had been, and still was, a collage of varying shades of purple and blue. His front appeared to have been scorched; she still could discern the reddened outlines of crosses in several different places on his body. As she had peeled away his duster, Spike’s horrible condition had been further revealed.

For a few seconds, the sight of him had left her both sickened and distraught, but Buffy had instantly pushed those feelings away. She had stripped off his remaining pants, gently washed his body and carefully bandaged him up. It had taken her most of the night. When she had finished, she had maneuvered Spike around so that she could rip off the fitted sheet beneath him that was filthy and covered in his dried blood, using up the last ounce of strength she had left. She had collapsed onto the bare mattress beside him, barely conscious as she had lifted the covers on top of them. Careful not to touch him, Buffy had exhaustedly passed out.

Now, she was awake again, feeling the most rested she had in days, staring longingly at Spike’s sleeping face. From the erratic movement behind his eyelids, Buffy knew he was dreaming. She smiled when he smiled and grew worried when he would wince in pain. Her hand gingerly slipped from beneath her cheek, traveling across her pillow to his, her finger tips brushing against his face, stoking his sharp cheekbone and jaw line. Her hazel eyes studied him intently, recommitting every single detail about his appearance to memory. His skin was a little clammier, his color was paler than normal, and he had dark sunken circles around his eyes, but at that very moment, Buffy thought he’d never looked more gorgeous.

Spike began to purr from her soft touch. Buffy smiled to herself. She didn’t know vampires could purr. It was cute and made her want to cuddle with him but she restrained herself. He was too banged up; she was afraid to even get too close to him. Buffy wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him but Spike looked so fragile. She was scared she’d accidentally break him. Sighing, she contended herself with simply watching him as he slept. Snuggles could wait, he wasn’t going anywhere.

The vampire groaned when he tried to lean into Buffy’s hand, turning slightly onto his side, which pressed his weight down on his bruised ribs. Buffy could see his eyelids flickering; the pain must have awakened him. Spike droopily opened his eyes, steering his half-conscious attention to the person caressing his face. “Buffy?” he disbelievingly rasped, unsure if he was still dreaming.

Buffy gave him a brilliant smile, her eyes shimmering. “Yeah, it’s me,” she managed to choke out, fighting off the tears of joy that were threatening to spill.

“Is it really you?” he asked again, needing the confirmation that she wasn’t an illusion, that she was actually safe, lying beside him. He felt his own eyes start to sting with unshed tears, a heady mix of relief and contentment filling him. Memories of the prior night, when he had yanked Damon off of her, suddenly reemerged. Had he gotten there in time? Spike tried to sit up, his body instinctively trying to get to Buffy, to make sure she was okay. He yelped as the agonizing pain in his back, legs and chest intensely burned with every move he made. It wouldn’t stop him though. He needed to see for himself that she was alright.

Buffy immediately flew to his side, her hands flying everywhere, uncertain where to lay them to stop him from getting up. “Spike, what are you doing? You have to rest,” she beseeched, concern evident in her strained voice as he refused lie down. She could only watch as he stubbornly hissed and panted, scooting his body backwards until his back touched the headboard. Buffy did her best to make him comfortable, surrounding him with pillows and fussing over his bandages to make sure he hadn’t inadvertently pulled open any wounds. Spike didn’t object to her coddling; it was nice to know she cared.

Finally settled, he peered up at her, his blue eyes full of trepidation. “Did Damon…?” he paused, the words getting caught in his throat. “Did Damon hurt you?” he worriedly finished the question.

Buffy shook her head, now understanding why Spike had had the sudden urge to move. “No, you stopped him before he could,” she responded quietly.

She knew she shouldn’t feel ashamed, but she hadn’t had time to deal with what Damon had almost done to her. Remembering the whole incident made her feel a little dirty but what she really felt like doing was exacting some serious vengeance on that demon’s ass. Buffy consoled herself with the thought that Damon would be dealt with. She didn’t want what had happened last night with the dark vampire to ruin her reunion with Spike. She quickly pushed all thoughts of it aside.

Spike let out a sigh of relief, before bowing his head in shame. “’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to bring himself to look her in the eye.

“It wasn’t your fault Spike. You weren’t here and Damon-” Buffy instantly grabbed his hand as she began to quickly reassure him, not entirely understanding why he was apologizing for something that had been totally out of his control.

“No…I mean… ’m sorry ‘bout that too…’s just… it wasn’t what I was referrin’ to,” he interrupted her, his melancholy gaze remaining fixed on their clasped hands, away from Buffy’s questioning stare. “I never meant any of it, luv.”

He was talking about the morning before he had been taken away. About the horrible words he had said to her. Since Spike had returned, Buffy had almost completely forgotten about the awful incident. She wanted to laugh. She remembered how much she had hated him for it. It seemed like a distant memory, almost eons ago, and in retrospect, it felt so inconsequential. She had forgiven him the moment she had found out he was gone. It should be her asking for his forgiveness. Buffy looked over his horrid physical state once again. How could she have ever doubted his love for her?

“I know,” Buffy said softly, giving Spike’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Spike tentatively raised his head, his teary eyes locking with hers. He looked up at her as though she had absolved him of all his sins and not just those he had committed against her. He looked up at her as though she had just saved him somehow.

“That’s a relief,” he croaked, his emotions playing nasty tricks on his voice.

He still couldn’t believe she was sitting beside him and that the hand he was touching was actually hers. The past seventy-two hours had been an utter nightmare for the both of them. Spike’s mind was having some difficulty processing the fact that he was free and Buffy was alive and well. Yet amongst his inabilities to come to grips with reality, his conscience, yes Spike now truly believed after everything he had been through that he did indeed have a conscience, albeit an only recently reactivated one, refused to forget about the fateful day he had left. For the longest time he had been solely focused on only getting back to Buffy, but he hadn’t forgotten. He couldn’t forget those obscene things he had said to her in a moment of infuriated passion. But it was water under the bridge now. Spike took in a calming but needless breath. ‘Get it together mate, before you start blubberin’ like a baby.’

Buffy could feel the beginnings of her own tears forming. She inched her way closer to his stiff body, bringing her free hand up once again to his bruised face. Her thumb brushed over his cheek as she lovingly smiled at him. “I still can’t believe you’re really here,” Buffy hoarsely whispered, sniffling as a few tears slid down her face.

Spike nearly fell apart at her teary confession. What he wouldn’t have given a week ago to have her look at him the way she was now; so trusting and genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t bear the thought that he could have lost her. He was a century’s old vampire, one who had endured countless of tortures throughout his sordid past, some of which made the last few days seem like a walk in the park, but it only took the mere thought of someone harming even one blonde hair on that beautiful head of hers to bring him to his knees.

After everything Spike had suffered, after all of that time spent worrying about her in that dank basement, he had finally arrived to Buffy’s room only to see Damon straddling her, forcing himself on her small, defenseless form. The image had been seared into his mind and the overwhelming rage that the sight of Buffy’s near rape had initially generated was now rekindling within Spike. Damon, if he had any of his wits about him, was most likely long gone, probably flew out of the house like a bat out of hell when he had realized that the prodigal clan leader had returned. With deathly assurance, Spike knew Damon would be dealt with, in one painful way or another. It was only a matter of time, depending on how long it was going to take for him to return to full strength. As Spike stared into Buffy’s glistening bittersweet gaze he inwardly vowed that the despicable treacherous vampire would come to truly know why William the Bloody had taken on the telling moniker of ‘Spike’.

“Better believe it, pet. I’m here” he gently reassured, a sad smirk tugging at his lips before pulling his face away from Buffy’s touch, glancing down at his bandaged body. “Hmmph. Relatively in one piece.”

As Spike scrutinized his mummified torso, he hardly noticed Buffy shift beside him. His eyes bugged out as he let out a gasp when he felt her warm supple form gently lower itself into his lap. Half sitting on his thighs, the only part of him that she couldn’t remember seeing covered in bruises, Buffy put most of her weight on her knees, just in case she was wrong about his seemingly healthy limbs. Spike raised his eyes to hers, her face inches away from his.

“Buffy?” he asked, his knitted brow trying to convey his bewilderment, his tone both questioning and yearning.

“Oh God, did I hurt you?” she anxiously wondered, thinking the confusion on his face was actually an expression of pain, shifting again to get off of him.

Spike vigorously shook his head. “No,” he agitatedly stated. He could feel his battered body start to react to her. His blood, whatever little that was left, was rushing to his nether regions. He gripped harder on their still clasped hands, tugging on her arm to stop her.

Buffy sighed, a little relieved. Seeing the determined look on his face, she knew he didn’t want her to move. Smiling gleefully, she continued on with what she had been in the process of doing. Leaning in towards him, placing a hand on the mattress by his side to keep her steady, Buffy watched as Spike’s face changed from perplexed to flabbergasted, his magnificent blue eyes glittering in anticipation. She stopped when her lips were a whisper away from his, her hot heavy breath mingling with the cool pant that was escaping his parted mouth.

Spike groaned loudly. “Pet, I spent the past few days in not so pleasant company. Don’t need you torturin’ me too,” he huskily whined, feeling like he was on the verge of total utter breakdown if she didn’t do something soon.

Pushing the last smidgen of her insecurity and fear aside, Buffy closed the miniscule gap separating them, gently planting her lips on his. For a few seconds neither one of them moved, taking time to reflect on the significance of the moment. The fact that it was Buffy who had initiated the embrace spoke more than any words ever could. She was letting him into her heart, a place she had denied him access to ever since he had first tried to kiss her. Since she had been captured they had humped, bumped and grinded each other into mind bending, world altering, pop you like warm champagne kind of euphoria. Yet they’d never truly shared anything as intimate as this, their first kiss.

Once overcoming his initial shock, Spike eased into the kiss, his lips languidly moving against hers. It was sweet and gentle and everything else that wasn’t a normal descriptor of their past physical encounters. Their mouths gradually opened, their lips lightly brushing against one another’s. There was no force and no rush despite the desperate burning desire that was scorching both of them from within. Buffy was afraid she’d hurt him and Spike didn’t want to do anything that might make her regret this later.

Spike knew if he wasn’t as physically limited as he presently felt, he would have plundered her mouth until she had to shove him off just to breathe. He prided himself on being quite astute in the art of kissing. A century of experience, years of snoggin’ with Druscilla, had afforded him that kind of arrogance. But this was different. All his past embraces had been frenzied, passionate, all consuming kisses that usually accompanied a fuck marathon with the occasional biting. Not this kiss. Even with everything he’d done with Buffy, he’d never felt as close to her as he did now. This was their next step, and there was no going back.

Buffy grew bolder, reassured by Spike’s intermittent moans of pleasure, daringly gliding her tongue along his bottom lip, teasing him to permit her entrance. Spike willingly allowed her to explore his mouth, sliding his own oral muscle against hers in soft caresses. Twirling his tongue around hers, Spike reached out an arm around her waist, instinctively pulling her closer to him. Buffy gasped loudly into his mouth when she unsuspectingly rubbed up against his erection, the hardness covered by the silky fabric of the satin sheet pressing on her exposed, wet pussy. Pulling away from his mouth, she rested her forehead against his, breathing heavily as she tried to keep her arousal under control.

Spike let out an uncharacteristic whimper at both the loss of her lips and the delicious friction she was inflicting on his cock. Wanting more, he did what came naturally, his lust fogged mind focused on her moist swollen lips, forgetting himself for the briefest second. Spike leaned forward to capture her mouth in another more searing kiss, when a burst of fire ripped through his midsection, making him wince violently.

“Spike?” Buffy worriedly questioned the pained expression on his face.

“Not used to bein’ a decrepit, luv. Got lost in you for a second there,” he explained through clenched teeth, resting his head back on the pile of pillows as he dismally covered his face with his hand.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have…” Buffy started to lament, mentally kicking herself for pushing things too far, too soon.

“Never say that,” Spike insisted, lowering his hand from his displeased face, appearing to be gravely upset with her. “I’d let you break every bone in my body just to get you to kiss me again. Don’t ever say that you’re sorry, ‘cos I sure as hell am not.”

Buffy could see the insecurity in his downcast glance. She knew he was worried that she’d immediately regret the kiss. Stupid vampire. Shouldn’t he know by now that if she was voluntarily smooching him, he had nothing to worry about? Not every guy had an all access pass to her lips and very few could sneak their way into the VIP room that was her heart. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was reeling from severe injuries, Buffy would have smacked him for his lack of confidence.

“First of all, not sorry about anything here. Secondly, I was going to say that I shouldn’t have jumped you the way I did. And thirdly, you’re a dope!” she announced indignantly, sliding back down to his thighs, away from his rock solid member.

“What are you goin’ on about?” Spike asked, frustrated not only by her incoherence but with the fact that the stiffy he was sporting wasn’t going to be tended to any time soon.

“You were gone, and I’m not saying that whatever you went through was easy, but it wasn’t all peachy happy rainbows here either,” she commented, her voice trembling as she recalled the anxiety of those three nights, just trying to survive from one sunrise to the next. “I had a lot of time to think. You were right. I can’t deny what has happened between us these past few months and I should hate you for it.”

Buffy felt Spike grow tense beneath her; she could see the dread spring into his eyes. She didn’t want to mislead him but she had to say what was on her mind. “I should despise you for the bringing me here, for trapping me in this house, for saying those horrible things to me. I should hate you for leaving me all alone,” she steadily divulged, watching as Spike became increasingly more apprehensive.

“But I don’t,” Buffy admitted with conviction. “God, how I don’t!” she paused before whispering, “I really don’t hate you, Spike.”

If Spike actually had a pulse, he most likely would have had a heart attack. She couldn’t just kiss him and then take it all away. It took a while for it to sink in but he exhaled noisily when he realized what she was really saying. She was his. Buffy was trying, might he add quite unsuccessfully, to tell him that she cared about him, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her limited words were enough of a declaration for him.

Spike slowly leaned in again, ignoring the dispersed shots of minuscule pain in his body, capturing her lips in another kiss. Buffy crawled up his lap in response, urgently pressing her mouth to his. The kiss quickly intensified, their need for one another fueling the frenzy of their embrace. Spike brought his hand up to Buffy’s hair, running his fingers through her blond locks. Their tongues dueled, playfully competing for dominance. Buffy squirmed in his lap, regenerating the dampness between her own thighs as she grinded against his still rock hard cock. She smiled against his lips when Spike emitted another guttural moan. Needing more, he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her flush up against his bandaged chest.

Spike immediately ripped his lips from Buffy’s. “Arrrrggghhhhhh!”

Buffy flew backwards at the unexpected bellow, her eyes glued to Spike as he wheezed frantically, his pain eventually subsiding. “You’d think I’d learn from the first time around,” Spike longingly remarked, cursing his currently feeble state.

Buffy had an inkling that Spike needed blood to get better. It was just logical. He was a vampire after all. Moving back into his lap, Buffy tilted her neck, exposing it to him in a silent invitation.

“You sure?” he asked to make sure he wasn’t misreading her.

“I need it just as much as you do,” she reassured, grabbing the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to her offered flesh.

Spike morphed, his tongue lapping the old wounds on her neck. Buffy shivered as Spike induced the sensations that only he could trigger within her. Her hips began to move of their own volition, her damp sex searching for satisfaction to quell her mounting desire. She cried out in ecstasy when his fangs pierced her skin, strangely feeling fulfilled by the penetration. It was only when Spike started to take pulls of blood from her willing body that Buffy felt as though his homecoming was finally complete. This feeding was more than the ones before. She wasn’t just giving him what his undead body needed to heal and to thrive but it was almost a reclaiming. He was making her his again but now the need to be linked to each other was being reciprocated. She wanted to belong to him.

Spike could feel Buffy’s blood fill him, working its way through his body, filling every withered cell to regenerate him back to tip top form. Having taken just enough to start the healing process while not too much to cause Buffy any harm, he carefully pulled out his fangs. Dragging his tongue across the puncture wounds to seal them, a growl rumbled in his throat in response to her involuntary thrusting. He wasn’t one hundred percent better yet, but with a few more winks of sleep, he’d be fine.

When she felt he was no longer drinking from her, Buffy tried to suppress the urge to grind up against him. She knew he needed rest, that he wasn’t completely out of the woods yet. Grudgingly slipping off of him, Buffy settled down by his side, not straying too far. She peered up at his face, seeing the sense of loss in his own eyes. “Better get some sleep,” she whispered, drawing the blankets back up over him as she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. She moved to give him some space. Buffy didn’t want to distract him from getting better. Yet as she made her way off of the bed, a firm grip pulled her back.

“Spike, you need to rest,” she argued as she struggled against his much stronger grip.

He didn’t let go. Instead he brought her back to his side, his arms tight around her, refusing to release her. “I can’t let you go, pet. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through,” he murmured softly. “Just stay with me.”

Buffy wanted to be strong but she instantly caved in when her head nestled on his shoulder. Spike shifted to get comfortable, content despite the small aches that still resounded throughout his body. This was how it was supposed to be between them. All that time wishing she’d return his feelings finally paid off. It had only taken his capture, subsequent torture and Damon’s near take over to get them to this point. Spike sighed as he slipped into peaceful repose, feeling Buffy’s warmth slowly seep into him, her vanilla scent invading his nose while her heartbeat steadily drummed in his ears. It had been worth it.




********


Natasha burst through the house’s front doors, marching into the main foyer, the angry stomps of her heeled boots sending off warning signals to the few nearby minions to stay away. Things were not good. Shit had literally hit the fan.

Walking up to a distracted Vincent, who was reclining on the wall by the room’s usually curtained window, the vampiress stood and waited for him to finish his observation of the night’s starlit sky. Growing impatient, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Hate to disturb your little mediation moment Vincent, but we got a major problem on our hands,” she stated, annoyed by his indifferent behavior.

“Is it what we feared?” the elder vampire asked, his voice stern, void of any feeling.

“Worse,” Natasha replied, emphasizing the gravity of the situation with a long exhale.

Vincent turned from his midnight vigil to look into Natasha’s worried face. He raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, the only glimmer of emotion to break through his up until recently stoic demeanor. “Well?” he asked.

“He’s gone. And he’s taken all his vamps with him. The fucker even managed to get a few of our own too. With all those fledges gone, our numbers are less half of what they were,” she explained solemnly.

Vincent stared at her thoughtfully, the wheels in his head turning. After a long while, he finally spoke. “He’s creating sides, forcing a schism throughout the entire clan,” he deduced as he unhurriedly paced by the window.

Natasha hated when Vincent got cryptic. “So what’s it all mean?” she looked to him to elaborate.

Vincent stared back out into the dark world outside, his jaw clenching as his once relaxed hands formed into fists. “It’s war, Natasha. The pillock wants war.”
 

Chapter Nineteen: And It Feels So Good

It was her scent that pulled him out of his sleep. The sweet tangy vanilla fragrance that made him water at the mouth and stirred other not so innocent parts of his anatomy into full awareness. Spike’s eyes slowly opened, blearily focusing on the top of Buffy’s blonde head, his nose snuggly buried in her golden locks. Breathing in her wonderful smell one last time, he raised his head. Though he loved the feel of Buffy’s body half draped over his own, sleeping while sitting upright was a little confining. Reaching behind his back, Spike pulled out the pile of pillows that were keeping him propped up. With a steady hold on a still dormant Buffy, he gently lowered the both of them so that his head lay on a single pillow while hers rested on his chest.

‘That’s a lil’ better,’ he reflected.

Spike tried to get comfortable as he mildly wiggled around but he just couldn’t seem to find a satisfying position. Letting out an exasperated groan, he picked Buffy up from off of his chest and gently lowered her onto another fluffy pillow beside him. She whimpered slightly, unconsciously protesting the loss of contact, but quickly returned to her peaceful slumber. Spike glanced down at Buffy, his azure stare roaming over her innocent looking face. It was only as his gaze scanned over the rest of her did he notice what she was wearing. His red silk shirt. Spike grew harder at the realization. There wasn’t anything sexier than his girl wearing nothing but his shirt. He smiled widely at the thought. Buffy was now officially his girl.

Daring to take his eyes away from her, Spike peered down at his own body, grimacing at the unsightly bandages he was wrapped in. He needed to get these things off. Compared to last night, he felt a hell of a lot better, sensing that all of his wounds had at least sealed up. Buffy’s blood and a little bit of rest had done the trick. It still hurt a bit but only when he moved abruptly or when he stretched too far. It was really more of a nuisance than anything else. Sliding off the mattress, an indifferently naked Spike quietly padded over to the washroom, carefully closing the door behind him.

Flicking on the light switch, he looked down at his chest, instantly grabbing at the bandages. He unraveled the length of gauze and cloth that Buffy had wrapped his torso up in the previous night. The lack of reflection prevented him from examining his face in the mirror, but what he saw when he simply looked down at himself in the exposing bathroom fluorescent light genuinely surprised him. Reddened circles, the faint outlines of crosses, rosy tinted skin and a few yellow and purple bruises were all that remained of his stay at Casa de Giles. Though he remembered being maliciously assaulted at the hands of the spiteful ex-Watcher, any sign of that extensive torture was now barely visible on his healing body.

He had never recuperated this quickly before. Maybe the sudden jolt he had experienced after the witch had disengaged her hindrance spell had actually concentrated his vampire abilities. It would explain the sudden ease at which he had held down the rabid werewolf after the pup had broken free of its cage. Maybe his vampire healing had also been jump started, working at a faster and more efficient rate than it usually did. Or perhaps it had something to do with Buffy’s blood. She wasn’t a Slayer or his Sire, so there were no healing properties that he knew of flowing through her veins. Maybe just knowing that she had given it to him freely, willingly giving up a part of herself so that his own body could heal, had been all it took to assist for his speedy self-restoration. Who knew? Perhaps mind over matter did truly work and recognizing that Buffy wanted him to get better was just what he needed for it to occur. Spike shook his head. It really didn’t matter how it happened. He was just happy he wasn’t a broken mess anymore.

Switching the lights off as he left the bathroom, Spike strolled back over to the bed, finding Buffy where he had left her. He couldn’t help but smirk as he stared down at her, his eyes focused on the red silk of his shirt riding up her thigh, its top few buttons open, giving Spike a sneak peak at the top of her perky breasts. Licking his lips, he slid back down next to her, possessively laying his hand flat over her stomach. Buffy intuitively rolled toward his touch, reaching out to him. He pulled her towards him, spooning her back against his chest, cautious not to press his turgid cock against her ass. He didn’t want to wake her up, especially in that way. They’re relationship was finally starting to turn in the direction he wanted it to and Spike wasn’t about to muddle things up by inadvertently insinuating he wanted sex. Not saying that he didn’t crave it though.

Buffy’s eyes fluttered open at the feel of a strong arm gingerly wrapped around her waist. Awakening from her restful sleep, she turned in Spike’s arms, rolling so that she could look into his wonderful face. A genuine smile greeted her, his sparkling clear blue eyes darting back and forth, assessing how awake she really was. Buffy smiled back. “Good morning,” she mumbled. Her brow scrunched for a moment as she noticed the room’s darkened state, only a faint light coming from a dim lamp in the room’s far corner. “It is morning, isn’t it?”

Spike had caught whiff of the sunrise a few hours back but had naturally gone back to sleep. He could still sense the bright sunlight that would have filled the room with its fatal rays if it weren’t for the black heavy curtains Buffy had closed shut the night before. He nodded. “Close enough. Reckon it’s probably just past noon.”

“Hmmmm…” she hummed incoherently as her eyes glanced down to his bare, sculpted chest. Wait a minute. Bare? “Spike, did you take off your bandages?” she gently scolded as she checked over his surprisingly recovered body.

“They chaffed,” he rationalized, hoping she wasn’t about to berate him for doing it.

Buffy shrugged. “Guess it’s alright. You look more or less okay. Gotta love that supernatural vampire healing,” she admitted, bringing her small warm hand to his chest, dragging her fingertips across the scars that would soon disappear.

Spike bit his lips as she stroked the sensitive skin, wishing those warm digits would inch over to his hardening nipple. Taking the small hand in his, he put an end to the unintentionally stimulating caresses. Planting a kiss on her open palm, Spike decided to change the topic. “So did you sleep well, pet?”

“Yeah,” Buffy responded, her face contorting into another perplexed expression before the smile returned to her lips. “I actually did.”

“I don’t follow,” Spike stated, feeling a little confused himself.

“No nightmares,” she explained happily.

“Good to hear, luv,” he replied, reaching out to tuck a piece of stray blonde hair behind her ear. “D’ever figure out who was chasin’ you?”

“Nope,” she answered, dropping the issue. Buffy wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell him it had been Damon haunting all of her dreams. She knew she should but she didn’t want to bring him up. Mentioning the recalcitrant vampire would only anger Spike and ruin the warm, happy moment they were having. Buffy really didn’t want that.

Spike’s hand slid from the side of her face, down her marked neck, to the silk collar of the shirt she was wearing. His eyes darkened with lust as his fingers fiddled with the crimson colored material, his gaze focused on her exposed cleavage. “Love the shirt, pet,” he remarked.

“What this old thing?” Buffy joked as she observed him ogling her. She tried to act nonchalant even though his touches felt like fire against her skin, making her body hum with anticipation. “Just found it lying around.”

“So the shirt’s not yours?” Spike played along, distractedly tracing the two unfastened buttons.

“No, but the person who owns it is,” Buffy coyly replied.

It took a few seconds for what she had just said to sink in, but the instant that Spike comprehended that Buffy had indirectly declared he belonged to her; the vampire smashed his lips against hers. Pushing his tongue into her willing mouth, he growled possessively when he felt her fingers rake through his disheveled platinum hair. He loved how her hot tongue wrestled back against his cool one. He loved how sweet she tasted and how soft she felt beneath him. He loved how he could smell her pungent arousal and how the guilt he used to have for feeling like he was taking advantage of her was gone. But what Spike truly loved the most was that he could kiss her like this whenever he wanted to and she would want it just as much as he did. God, he loved kissing this girl.

Buffy pulled away, gasping for air, her chest heaving for frantic breath as she stared up into his desire filled gaze. Without much thought, Buffy took the hand that had been playing with her shirt and brought it to the few remaining buttons that were still buttoned up. In an unspoken invitation, she let go of his hand and waited for him to do what she hoped he would.

Spike’s attention flew to his hand, now nestled between her breasts. He rolled one of the buttons between his fingers, looking back into her face to make sure he had her full consent. When she nodded, Spike worked diligently, unbuttoning one at a time until the shirt was completely undone. Her breath hitched when his hand slipped beneath the silk, pulling at the material to reveal one soft round mound, his cool sensuous touch and the room’s slight draft causing the rosy nipple to harden. Soon the rest of the crimson shirt was brushed aside, leaving Buffy completely exposed.

Spike paused for a moment, taking in the sight of her. “So beautiful…” he huskily whispered.

The state of her arousal tickled his nose once again, which made his eyes dart down from her breasts to the wet junction between her thighs. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, to feel himself encased in her searing velvety quim. Getting a little too excited, Spike brought his attention back to Buffy’s face. He was surprised to see she wasn’t blushing beet red with embarrassment. Instead she met his lustful gaze with her own, never taking her yearning hazel eyes from his.

Capturing his hand once again, Buffy brought it to his mark on the side of her neck. He instinctively brushed the lightly scarred flesh with his thumb, making Buffy shiver beneath him. “Spike…” she moaned.

Spike was having a little difficulty keeping it together. He let out a long hoarse breath in attempt to calm himself down. He didn’t want to rush anything. “Christ, pet. I want you so much,” he confessed, his voice shaky with need as he continued to stroke his marks.

“I want you too,” she also admitted, wrapping her arm around his neck to pull his face back down to hers. “Make love to me, Spike.”

At first he wasn’t sure if he had heard her correctly. Only after a few dumbfounded moments, Spike realized what it was that she was asking of him. Buffy wanted him to make love to her. It was a simple request, but one that he hadn’t been expecting to hear. Taking in another deep breath, Spike composed himself. He felt like a fumbling nervous virgin even though it wasn’t going to be his first time. Not by a long shot. Christ, it wouldn’t even be the fist time he had sex with Buffy. Yet it’d been a while since he’d technically “made love”.

In the few years since Dru had left him, the only kind of sex he had had could only be described as fucking. He had refused to invest any of his emotions into any potential relationship that had come his way. Even when his dark princess had still been with him, tenderness had been a rare occurrence between their bed sheets. As much as the opportunity to make love to Buffy excited him, it also made him oddly petrified. It was going to be as much as a new experience for him as it would be for her.

Spike smiled as he leaned down a bit, gently pressing his lips to hers. Sweetly kissing her, his finger stroked the erogenous mark on her neck while the other hand skimmed over her breast, ghosting a caress over the erect nipple. He cupped the mound of flesh, delicately pinching and rubbing the pink bud until Buffy was moaning into his mouth. Spike turned his focus to the other overlooked breast, giving it the exact same treatment. Pulling away from her lips, he kissed along her jaw until he reached the shell of her ear where he traced the sensitive skin with his tongue. He could hear her heart hammering away in her chest and the scent of her arousal was so thick that he was nearly choking on it.

“You like that, pet?” he throatily asked as he continued to slowly work her into ecstasy.

Buffy nodded, panting loudly. “Y-yes,” she stuttered, the pleasure he was inducing being so intense that she was barely able to coherently respond to his question.

Spike smirked at her answer. His mouth moved to her neck, latching onto the marked skin, sucking and licking it as his hands massaged her oversensitive breasts. Before Buffy reached the climax that always arose from his oral manipulation of the bite marks on her neck, Spike pulled away, slowly sliding down her body. He waited until Buffy was a little more collected. When her breathing calmed slightly, Spike lowered his mouth, flicking his tongue across her nipple, which brought forth a noisy groan from Buffy’s lips. He continued to tend to her breasts, twirling his talented moist tongue slowly around the dusky areole. The noises she was making were driving him crazy, and the whimpers and coos weren’t helping with the angry erection that was pressing against her thigh. Yet Spike remained focused, determined that he’d do things right, to make it good and to make it last.

Buffy’s fingers ran through his short peroxide blonde curls, desperately needing an anchor to this world. She’d never felt this kind of pleasure before. All the other times she had been with Spike there had been undertones of guilt, disgust or confusion flying around her head. Her mind would reluctantly cave into the demands of her body, and at times unwillingly surrender to the carnal bliss that Spike could provoke within her. It was not the case now. Buffy wanted him, wholeheartedly and there were no more lingering doubts or fears to quell what she felt for him.

The licking gradually turned aggressive and Spike was soon sucking hard on her nipple, which sent bolts of electricity straight to her womb. “Spike….uh….ahhhhhh….” she whimpered, forgetting what she was about to say.

Releasing his mouth from her breast, Spike chuckled softly. “Yes, pet?” he teasingly replied.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, yanking his head back down to her chest.

Swiping his tongue lightly against the under curve of one breast, Spike nuzzled the smooth skin. “No worries, luv. Gonna take care of you. ‘m gonna make it feel so good,” he reassured as he slithered down her body.

He trailed open mouthed kisses down her sweat glistened stomach, intermittently darting out his tongue to taste the salty tang of her skin. Spike circled her navel with peppery kisses before dipping his tongue into it. Meanwhile, his skillful hands moved smoothly over her taut stomach, lowering them to her hips and thighs to stroke the sensitive, quivering skin he found there. Sliding completely off of her, Spike tenderly coaxed her legs apart, broadly smiling when she spread them eagerly, revealing to him the pink puffy lips of her juicy pussy. He was fully salivating as an overwhelming hunger took over him. The ever mounting urge to dive right in and eat her out like his unlife depended on it was getting harder and harder to suppress.

“Bend your knees a bit,” he instructed so that he could have better access to the savory peach at the apex of her thighs.

Buffy did as she was told, trembling with fevered expectation. She watched as Spike’s platinum head lowered and felt his lips graze the skin of her inner thighs, slowly making their way to her quim.

“Spike…” she began to beg, wishing he would just place his skillful mouth on her pussy. “I need you to…Oh my God!”

Wish granted.

Spike ran his tongue through her moistened folds, catching dollops of her heady dew on its tip. His hand skimmed up her thighs, taking his limber fingers to peel open the lips of her sex. Her engorged clit beckoned to him. Much like her nipples, he circled the nubbin and flicked it repeatedly with his tongue making Buffy arch further into his mouth.

“Ahhhh… unghhh…S-spike…don’t stop…uhhh…” she babbled, squirming uncontrollably.

“Taste so good, luv. Like bloody ambrosia,” Spike muttered as he surrounded his lips around her clit, sucking so intensely that Buffy started to see stars.

“Ahh…Spike…ahhhhhhh…” she unintelligibly cried, pulling at his hair, nearly ripping handfuls straight off from his head.

He detached his mouth from her clit, gliding his tongue down to her dripping entrance. Spike plunged his tongue into her sopping hole, twirling it around as he pulled it out. Buffy emitted a guttural mix between a growl and a moan, pushing her hips down on his face with every thrust of his tongue. After a few more strokes, he pulled the tongue out and replaced it with one, then quickly two nimble fingers. He pumped and stretched her with the digits as he returned to licking her clit. After a few short minutes he could feel her inner walls begin to quake. Turning his hand to that the palm was upright, the two fingers embedded within her delved in further, searching for the soft little spongy bundle of nerves. Finding her G-spot, Spike stroked it as he fiercely began to suck on her clit again.

Buffy felt as though she was on the verge of exploding. She couldn’t breathe and her heart was going a hundred miles a minute. As he continued to stimulate a spot within her that she had almost completely forgotten was there, Buffy’s orgasm was beginning to boil over. “Spike…Spike…I’m going to…Ahhhhh!!!!” she bellowed as she climaxed, her hips bucking, a wash of juices filling Spike’s awaiting mouth.

He kept flicking her G-spot as she rode out her first wave of pleasure, the treatment speedily triggering a second orgasm. She almost passed out from the immensely suffocating bliss that was ripping through her. When she finally came down from her delirium, Buffy could feel Spike lapping her pussy lips clean, which sent tiny aftershocks throughout her body. With one last lick, Spike lifted himself back up, hovering above her so that he could gaze down into her face. He smirked devilishly when he saw the sated kittenish look she was giving him.

Buffy reached up to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips. It was Spike’s turn to moan when her small warm hand wrapped around his silky cool shaft. Disengaging from the kiss, she guided his solid cock to her entrance. “I need you in me,” she stated as she waited for him to move.

Spike let out a ragged breath. He had put his own needs aside up until that point, his attention centered solely on her pleasure. Part of him wanted to fuck her brains out, to release all the pent up desire that had been building up within him. It was that part of him that made him afraid he was about to bollocks things up. Pushing those thoughts away, Spike slowly entered her, groaning as her scorching heat engulfed his throbbing member. He hissed when her smooth inner muscles contracted around him, squeezing him in just the right way.

“Christ, pet, you’re so fucking tight,” he said into the crook of her neck.

He moved slowly at first, drawing out every sensation as he reentered her hot molten core. Buffy met his every thrust, wrapping her legs around his waist to push him in deeper. Soon Spike was grunting noisily, his hips madly smashing into Buffy’s but he was still under enough control to remember her needs as he slipped a dexterous hand between their bodies to stroke her clit. Her pants soon echoed his grunts as they both approached the pinnacle of their coupling.

“Do it,” Buffy rasped urgently. “Please Spike. Just do it now!”

Not needing any clarification as to what she was specifically asking him to do, Spike vamped out and sunk his fangs into the tender flesh of her neck. Her warm spicy blood gushed into his mouth as he frantically pounded into her, letting the demon inside take full reign only for a moment, allowing it to make love to Buffy the only way it knew how. With one last strategically angled thrust, and simultaneous twist of her clit, Spike sent Buffy soaring into her third orgasm of the night.

“Spike!!!!!!” she screamed as the tremors rippled through her body.

With a few more thrusts, he quickly followed her over the edge, pulling his fangs from her neck, roaring deliriously as he spilled his cool dead seed into her.

“Buffy!!!!”

Once the convulsing stopped, he collapsed on top of her, completely spent. As his head cleared Spike rolled off of her, hoping he hadn’t accidentally crushed her. Concerned, he peered down into her face, relieved when she was smiling brightly up at him. Grinning back, he leaned down and kissed her sweetly.

"That was amazing,” Buffy mumbled against his lips.

“That’s ‘cos you’re amazin’, pet,” he explained as one of his hands idly glided over her stomach. He raised his head, his warm cerulean eyes meeting her bashful stare. “Never dreamed it could be this way. I love you so much, Buffy.”

His words made Buffy freeze with uncertainty. She knew how she felt about him and she knew that it was her cue to say the “L” word back. So why couldn’t she bring herself to say it? What was stopping her? What was she so afraid of? Sure she had trust issues when it came to her relationships with the opposite sex. She could thank her adulterous and absentee father for that. But Spike wasn’t like that and she knew it. ‘Damn it, Buffy,’ she internally scolded. ‘Tell him how you feel.’

She watched as Spike’s loving expression turned to one of dread, the fear that his love would still be unreciprocated evident in eyes. Buffy opened her mouth to speak, trying to force what she wanted to say into words.

“Spike, I…I…I”

The sound of her stomach rumbling interrupted her pretty sad attempt at telling him how she truly felt.

Sighing, Spike ignored the pain in his dead heart at Buffy’s inability to articulate her feelings, especially after everything they had been through. Shoving those insecurities aside, he concernedly inquired, “When was the last time you ate, luv?”

Somewhat relieved and guiltily thankful for the distraction, Buffy shrugged. “Sometime before you came back,” she dismissively answered.

Spike’s eyes widened, shocked by her confession. “And you still let me feed from you? How’s it you haven’t passed out yet?” he bewilderedly asked.

Buffy sheepishly shrugged again.

“Well that just won’t do,” he seriously remarked as he slipped out of bed. “We still have any of those chocolate biscuits you like so much?”

Buffy nodded as she pointed to the box filled with food that she kept by the mini-fridge. Spike kissed her forehead quickly before he sauntered over to the other side of the room, completely comfortable with his nudity. Buffy blushed when her eyes automatically shot straight to his tight perfect ass. Turning away as she pulled the bed sheet over her naked body, Buffy’s guilt resurfaced about being unable to tell Spike that she loved him. Remembering the brief flash of sadness that had crossed his face when she hadn’t said those three little words back made her hate herself all the more.

Spike returned with the carton of cookies he had promised. “Here you go, luv. A box of sweets for my sweet,” he chuckled at his corny joke.

Buffy couldn’t help but giggle at the lame compliment. Grabbing a cookie from the open box, she bit into it, slowly savoring the sugary goodness. She noticed Spike watching her as she ate the cookie, a goofy grin plastered on his face. Seeing the adoration in his eyes, Buffy felt even worse. She only hoped he understood that it wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him. Even after all the nightmarish experiences she had survived through these past few months, Buffy was still the same insecure girl when it came to expressing her feelings. She had let him into her heart; she was just too afraid to let him know it.

 

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