The Circle of Slayers Series 4/?
Chapter 4: Cold Steel, Warm Skin
By Denna at dennaseer@hotmail.com
Rated NC-17
Keywords: Buffy and Spike…what else could there be?
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. They belong to Joss Whedon. Yadda
yadda yadda.
Summary for Chapter 4: Both Buffy and Spike will have to face the changes
between them and Buffy must face her feelings.

Chapter 4: Cold Steel, Warm Skin

Sunday, November 18, 2001 8:30 PM

    Lunge. Slash. Turn. Parry. Slash.

    Spike went through the motions, fighting an invisible enemy as he slashed
his blade through the air in the dark cemetery. A week had passed since the
vampire’s attack on the Slayer and himself, and his wounds had healed
wonderfully and his familiar strength was back. The first few days he had
been lightheaded and dizzy constantly, spending more of his time sleeping
than anything else. Buffy had helped him, even smiled at him sometimes, but
she took special care not to get too close to him. Ever since that intense
moment, where Spike had recounted his horrifying dream to the Slayer, she
had stayed away from him. Dawn wasn’t however, and the girl was always ready
to give him a crushing hug. She certainly had her sister’s strength, that
was for sure. As he had slowly recuperated from his ordeal, he had gone more
often outside and eventually returned to his crypt. He had been somewhat
reluctant though. Being so close to the Slayer was wonderful, eating meals
with her, bathing in her bathtub…sleeping in her bed. Of course, she wasn’t
with him, but the familiar scent of Buffy had been all around him and he had
not been willing to give it up. There was something almost normal and
comforting about their time together and despite all Buffy’s reasoning and
arguments she would have to admit that something had definitely changed
between the two. Spike just didn’t know exactly what it was.

    Spike stroked the long metal of the blade that fit so snugly in his hand.
It was odd that Spike had been choosing his blade more than he had been
choosing his fists lately. The blade was a comfort, and reminded him of the
swift brutality that had been such a part of him only a few years past. He
had been experimenting with his chip over the summer and had found several
glitches he could work with. The most significant one he had learned though,
was that he could attack mortals as long as he physically did not touch him.
Though he had not been able to do it before, for some odd reason the chip
let him do it. Maybe it malfunctioned from the all the times he had been hit
in the head. That meant that a sword, a mace, a gun or a club he could kill
with. But he didn’t want too. As strange as it was, the usual desire for
chaos and blood didn’t appeal to him anymore. Of course, he would never give
up a life of violence, but just…sometimes he had dreams that he lost his
chip and whenever he killed someone, he would look into their vacant dead
eyes and he would suddenly be holding the limp body of Buffy. That was more
than enough to keep the temptation of human blood away.

    So here the blonde vampire was, in the dark cemetery shortly after sundown,
slashing and hacking at a wooden sign as he waited for some vampire or demon
to come. Even though the air was still cool, he had taken off his duster a
long time ago, revealing his sleeveless black shirt. He was ancy and
distracted and wanted more than anything for his boredom to be vanquished
with the arrival of a mean undead critter so he could kick its ass.

    Lunge. Slash. Turn. Parry. Slash.

    He kept his eyes focused on the sign in front of him and let his reflexes
take over his body. The words ‘Welcome to the South Sunnydale Cemetery’
blended into nothingness, as the blade became almost an extension of his
arm, melding into his body.

    The blade flashed in the waning moonlight as he spun it around his hands.
He spun it again in the opposite direction, feeling its weight and how it
dragged through his arms. Finding the proper balance in his grip, he
prepared himself for an imaginary battle.

    Still concentrating on the sign, he took two quick steps to the side and
turned. Using the momentum gained by it, he slashed at the sign twice,
turned again and stepped back. He was getting really bored and petty
vandalism was getting on his nerves.

    “You missed.” Came a gruff voice from behind him.

    “I never miss.” Spike said, not turning around.

    “It’s still standing,” said the grizzled old demon to which the gruff voice
belonged. He stepped into Spike’s line of sight and gestured at the sign. He
was a small demon, nearly a head shorter than Spike. His white hair came
down below his shoulders, tied with a thong around his neck. Dark chestnut
scales adorned his body, and his eyes and tongue were those of a snake’s but
besides that, he looked completely human. A short white beard covered his
chin. His shoulders were wide and his forearms were thick with muscle. He
wore a plain leather vest with nothing under it, leather breeches and boots.
His shaggy white brows towered over the scarlet eyes of a viper’s. A sword
hung from his belt. He was a Pytho Demon, all right.

    “I told you before, I don’t miss.” Spike reassured the old demon. He took a
step forward and touched the sign lightly with his blade. It fell into two
pieces at the demon’s feet. Spike’s sword had cleaned through the wood and
metal so quickly and cleanly it had left the sign standing.

    The demon stared at the ruined sign at his feet. “No kidding.” He stuck his
thumbs in his belt and eyed the vampire critically, “You’re good – for a
childe.”

    “Childe?” Spike glared at him, “I happen to be almost 130, you wanker, and
a Master Vampire at that.”

    The demon leaned against a tall statue of a weeping angel and smirked,
“Pretty full of yourself, aren’t you?”

    “Care to see how good I am, poof?” Spike taunted. This was going to be fun.
This demon was beginning to annoy him. He knew what this sword master was up
to and he didn’t rise to the bait.

    “You sure you wanna go up against a Pytho Demon, bleach boy?” the scaled
demon asked as he loosened the peace straps on his sword, drew his blade and
then hung the scabbard on the statue.

    Spike smirked and lifted a scarred eyebrow, “Try me,” he taunted, lowering
the sword and getting into a ready position. Both of his hands gripped the
hilt, forming a makeshift fulcrum at the balance point so he could swing
either way easily and quickly. He shifted his weight onto the balls of his
feet, in the brutal grace only an experienced killer could perform. He fixed
the demon with a confident glare, waiting for his next move. He couldn’t
wait; he had been itching for a good fight for a week and the demon looked
like a reasonable challenge.

    The demon dropped into a crouch and circled to Spike’s left side. Spike
moved to his right, keeping the same distance between them.

    The two circled each other for a while, like two alpha wolves competing for
supremacy, then the demon charged. Raising his sword over his head and
emitting a primal growl, he rushed at the younger vampire. Spike brought his
sword up quickly and blocked the charge. Steel rang on steel and the impact
drove sharp pains up his fatigued arms. He laughed almost maniacally; the
pain was an addiction. Spike had the advantage of agility and speed and he
pushed away the demon’s advances with swift casualness.

    “Can we finish this soon?” Spike mocked, “Passions is gonna be on soon and
Timmy’s caught in the haunted house.”

    The demon growled annoyingly and executed a series of quick jabs and feints
that Spike countered and avoided easily. The old demon continued to drive on
the blonde, not allowing him the chance to fight back, forcing Spike to
constantly be on the defensive. Dropping back suddenly, Spike leapt back and
flipped back to standing to give him the room he needed. The move had been
more than unexpected and in the Pytho Demon’s confusion, Spike’s blade leapt
out and slashed the outside of the demon’s left arm. A short line of red
appeared.

    The old demon didn’t falter. Instead, he whirled around and slashed Spike’s
blade away, thrown onto the grass. He drove the vampire mercilessly back;
step, slash, step, slash, step, slash, step. Spike dodged the blows, jumped
backward and crouched. When the demon rushed him, he leapt low and forward
under the attack. Hitting the demon’s shin with the flat of his boot, he
turned as he passed by, straightened and kicked the demon in the rump
sending him sprawling. Before the man could move, Spike’s boot was on his
throat.

    Chuckling, the demon looked up at him, “That was hardly an honorable
fight.”

    “Honorable? Who said anything about fighting honorably?” Spike lifted his
boot off his neck and walked backwards, an arrogant grin on his face.

    “You should always fight with honor!” the demon snapped, his humor gone. He
pushed himself up and got to his feet.

    Spike shook his head, “Oh come on, mate. You and I both know that when it
comes to fighting, there’s only one rule. Kill or be killed. Now I don’t
know about you, but I would rather be the guy who lives to see another
bloody sunset then the great sir knight that ends up with a sodding sword in
his arse.”

    The demon shook his head at him as he wiped the blood of his arm.

    “Look,” Spike said, picking up his blade and attaching it securely to his
belt,” No matter how you fight, you end up dead. It doesn’t matter if I stab
you in the back, torture you to death or kill you face to face. Either way
the loser is dead and the winner isn’t.”

    Spike picked his duster off the ground, dusted it off and shrugged it back
on, smiling at the familiar scent of twenty years worth of blood and gore.

    “You’re the neutered vampire everyone talks about in this town, right? The
one who works beside the Slayer? I heard you were wounded badly last week
and the Slayer nursed you back to health.”

    Spike nodded and turned back towards his crypt. The demon followed him,
catching up to him and walking beside him. “Look, I don’t need any of you
stupid demon types giving me bloody crap, so give it up.”

    “Oh, come on,” the demon sneered, “I’m an old demon. I’m sick of fighting
good, not that I like ‘em, mind you. You think I’m going to give you the old
‘you’re a traitor to demonkind’ lecture? I’m a demon who fights fair,
dammit.”

    Spike chuckled lightly, but kept on walking. After a few moments of
silence, the demon spoke up again, “They say you were attacked by a group of
vampire assassins. How? You’re too good for a bunch of fang faced good for
nothing bloodsuckers get a hold on you, no offense.”

    “None taken.” Spike frowned, “I don’t have a soddin’ clue. Thought I dusted
them all, but there was one bloody wanker left. And another one distracted
me enough to let the other get under my guard. Of course, they had a knife
to my girl’s throat.”

    “Ahh…” the demon nodded, “A woman…”

    “She happens to be the Slayer and can take bloody care of herself,” Spike
said in Buffy’s defense. “They were hired to stake me and take her alive.”

    The demon smiled. “I definitely wasn’t casting doubt on her ability,
childe. I’ve heard legends of the Slayer. They say no one can stop her; that
she killed a hell goddess. And she was raised from the gates of Hades.”

    Spike winced. Every time he was reminded of that horrible summer, the
aching in his stomach and throat was enough to make him want to throw up.

    “You’re in love with her.”

    “They tell you that too?”

    “No. I can see it in your eyes. But she doesn’t love you back, right?”

    “Absobloodylutely. She just can’t forget that I’m an evil, mass murdering
vamp, despite the fact that I work with her every soddin’ night.”

    “Well, maybe it’s not your past that she needs to forget.”

    “What?”

    “Just saying that maybe it’s hers. Slayers don’t exactly live
happy-go-lucky lives.”

    “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

    “Don’t worry, friend. If she took care of you for a whole week, then she
must at least care enough about you to not want you dead.”

    “I guess so.”

    “Just glad to see you on the mend. The world needs more warriors like you.
By the way, my name’s Archibald.”

    “I’m Spike.”

    “Well met, Spike, well met.” Archibald said as he disappeared into the
darkness. Spike stared after him with a puzzled look on his face. Bloody
demons. He soon realized that the familiar hunger for blood was calling to
him, and he turned back towards his crypt for a midnight snack.

~

    Spike entered his familiar abode, scanning the room casually. His crypt was
quite large compared to the other tombs but seemed empty with a couple
chairs and a TV, but a trap door led down into his real home. He quickly
leapt down the ladder and walked through his spacious basement. The largest
room was his sitting room where a couple old chairs, a couch and a T.V sat.
There was his bedroom and a washroom that he had managed to work at during
the summer. He walked further into the dim room, inhaling the comforting,
musty scent that accompanied it. But there was also another smell. A smell
that he could never forget. The metallic scent of blood and sweat but softly
laced with the soft smell of innocent vanilla and blooming roses.

    Buffy.

    As he stepped closer into the dim light of his numerous candles, he found
Buffy seated on his couch surrounded by stacks of books. The flames left
half of her face shining with an intense light and the other half cloaked in
mysterious shadow. She had never seemed so mysterious to her as she did now.
And as beautiful. Every time he saw her she was more and more striking.

    He was more than a little surprised to see her; he hadn’t really had a good
chance to talk with her the last week. That was what they had to do. Talk.
About her and him. About the future. Most of the time he had been sleeping
and when she had been awake, she had been sleeping. He had tried to wake her
up of course, but he had learned his lesson soon enough. Waking Buffy up
from a deep sleep was like waking a bear from hibernation. And you got a lot
more than a couple scratches on your face. She was dressed in black leather
pants, (god, he loved it when she wore that pair) and a red tie-front
sleeveless shirt. Her black leather jacket was wrapped loosely around her
shoulders as she busily studied the pages of her text.

    She obviously hadn’t noticed him enter, as she was busy scrawling out notes
in her scribbled handwriting. In front of her was a huge pile of musty books
she must have gotten from the Magic Box. Several laid open, and there were
yellow sticky markers in some of the other closed books. She flipped through
one, shoved it back and pulled another one towards her.

    “Last time I checked this wasn’t a library, luv.” Spike said. Buffy
practically jumped up when she heard his voice and sighed in relief.

    “Oh, Spike. It’s just you.”

    “Thanks.” Spike muttered sarcastically as he put his blade onto one of his
chairs and wandered over toward his small fridge. He fidgeted through until
he found a packet of blood and warmed it up in his tiny microwave.

    “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” Buffy asked, clutching a book to
her chest.

    “No, I’m going to ask why you ate my sandwich.” Spike said, looking over at
her.

    “I got hungry.” Buffy said, “I thought you wouldn’t mind.” She returned to
her studies, skimming over the pages.

    Spike opened the microwave door at the familiar ding and ripped open the
blood packet with his teeth. He drank quietly, watching the Slayer. She
looked gorgeous. It was kind of weird; he had never actually seen her read
before. He grinned quietly as he stared. Her light eyebrows would crease as
she read over the script and her full lips moved as she read, as if she was
unconsciously talking to herself. He watched, and he could hear her heart
beating from where he stood. And it was beating fast.

    Buffy paused when she felt her eyes on him and looked up from her book.
Their eyes locked for a moment and she could see his desire and longing for
her. He never tried to hide it or disguise it and it made Buffy
uncomfortable, but also strangely excited. She looked away from him quickly
and asked, “Where were you, anyway? I was waiting for you.”

    He noticed she had her hair pulled back in a loose knot at the base of her
neck and tied with a maroon scarf to match the rest of her outfit. It
exposed her neck, showing off the delicate bones and golden skin. He could
see her pulse beating in time with her heart as she said the words. There
was a smudge of ink just beside her ear. She probably had accidentally
leaned her hand on the pen and gotten marked.

    “I was just in the cemetery, killing demons and vampires. Essentially your
job.” Spike sat down on the chair across from her.

    “Are you sure you should be doing that so soon?”

    “It’s been a week, luv. I’m not a weak little kitten; I can take care of
myself. Remember my magical undead healing powers?” he answered, patting his
chest.

    “I know, but…”

    “I’m fine, Slayer,” he interrupted, staring into her eyes, “And thanks to
your quick thinking, I’m alive…somewhat…and well.”

    She bit her lip and looked back down at her notes, “If I hadn’t distracted
you in the first place-“

    The vampire got up and crossed the room in record time. Kneeling before
her, he grasped her forearms, “Stop that! Bloody hell, we’ve been over this,
luv. I wasn’t your fault. We were doing our jobs. That’s what we do. It
isn’t the first time that there’s been a factor of death in this bleedin’
equation, issit? It just…happened.” He held her eyes in his stare, glaring
deep into their liquid depths. He noticed that her heart was racing, her
blood was rushing and she was shivering. But not from the cold. Buffy broke
their gaze once again and smiled nervously. He smiled back and stood up.

    “Shouldn’t you be the one slaying the demons and your little Scoobies doin’
the reading?” asked Spike, breaking the tension.

    “I do my fair share of intelligent work,” Buffy huffed, looking down at the
book once again, “I’m researching swords.”

    “Swords?” he said, reaching around and picking up one of the many pages of
notes she had made, “What for, pet?”

    She took the page back from him and put it on the pile and then she looked
up at him, “I’ve noticed that you’ve been using swords and stuff a lot
lately, so I thought you could use a new one.”

    “But I’ve already got my blade, luv.” Spike turning back to the couch. That
elegant neck of hers had been distracting him, and he had found himself lost
in the faint beating of her pulse.

    “Yeah of course, but I mean the kind of sword you fight really really scary
bads, you know? Like a magical sword. You can keep on fighting with your
sword, you know like with vampires and icky slime demons, but if there was a
warlock or a dragon or a flying carpet-“

    “You’re rambling, luv.”

    “No! I’m just organizing my thoughts aloud.”

    Spike took in a deep unnecessary breath. It was now or never. He looked up
at her and stared at her for a moment before saying, “What’s going on with
us, Slayer?”

    “What are you talking about, Spike?” Buffy asked, putting her book on the
stack already there.

    “I mean,” Spike ran a hand through his bleached hair, “What…there’s
something happening between us, Buffy. Something’s changed.”

    “Nothing’s changed, Spike.”

    “Yes, it’s been changing since you came back from…” Spike looked away for a
moment before locking his eyes with hers again, “Do you trust me, Buffy?”

    Buffy was shocked at the question and didn’t answer even when he came and
kneeled before her and took her hand in his, “I-I don’t get it, Spike.”

    “There’s nothing to get. Do you trust me, Buffy? Tell me the truth.”

    “…Yes…”

    “You already know that I love you. More than anything in this world.
But…but we can’t go through this anymore, Buffy. We can’t be in this little
world between love and hate. It’s not fair to any of us, especially you.”

    “What are you trying to say?”

    “The bus stops here, luv. From this moment until you leave my crypt, it’s
complete and utter honesty between us all right?”

    After a moment, Buffy shakily nodded her head.

    “Do you love me, Buffy?” Spike asked, holding onto her hand.

    “Spike…we can’t…. we can never…”

    “Honesty, remember?”

    “I…no….”

    “Buffy…” Spike said, gently taking her chin but forcefully making her meet
his eyes, “Remember how we fell asleep together last week. You trusted me
then. And when we fight, it’s in complete harmony. It’s like we’re one
person. And…when I almost got myself staked, you were going all weepy and
crazy like. And you nursed me back to health-“

    “Now who’s rambling?” Buffy asked, her smile still nervous and scared.

    “I deserve the truth, Slayer. I deserve it. You deserve it too. I love
playing games, I assure you. But this isn’t a game anymore, Buffy.”

    “I can’t, Spike. I…made a promise that I wouldn’t…”

    “What? What promise?”

    “Giles and Willow…they’re just worried about me…they just want what’s best
for me.”

    “And they made you promise not to love me?” Spike said, his tone hardening.

    “Spike, they care about me.”

    “Bollocks! They care so much that they force you to feel what they think
you should? Take care of you the way they want? Buffy, I don’t give a bloody
damn about what your Scoobies think!”

    “I can’t do this, Spike,” Buffy looked away, her eyes glistening, “Not
again…”

    Spike’s tone softened as he gently stroked her cheek, “I’m not Angel or
Riley or Parker. I won’t hurt you or leave you ever. What I feel for you,
it’s beyond words or thoughts. When I’m with you, my heart beats and my
blood races. And I’ve tried, Buffy. I’ve tried to hate you, to get you out
of my mind. But I can’t. Even what I felt with Dru…You’re part of me,
Buffy…. You’re my soul…”

    “I don’t know what to do, Spike…” Buffy whispered, a tear trailing down her
cheek.

    “Just close your eyes, Buffy.” He said softly, wiping away her tear. “Close
your eyes and feel…”

    Buffy closed her eyes with a shaky breath. Spike was drawn to her lips;
they were perfect and so inviting. He remembered his brief taste last year
after he was tortured by Glory and it wasn’t enough. As if by its own
accord, Spike’s mouth seemed to be drawn down to Buffy. He was leaning into
her, gently sweeping a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun behind
her ear, the whole time getting closer and closer to those lips. They became
his world, the little drop of moisture on the upper lip, the slight
plumpness of the bottom lip, begging to be suckled. He was mesmerized,
transfixed. He needed to taste those lips as much as he need blood, perhaps
more. Almost there, nearly an inch in between them so he could feel her warm
breath on his face. She gently breathed in and out.

    Just one taste, that was all he needed to get through the rest of his life,
he told himself. She would run away and he would never get the chance to
hold her or yearn for her again. Just one quick taste. Spike softly placed
his hands on the sides of Buffy’s face; gently holding her in place while
his mouth met hers. It was barely a touch, a light grazing of his lips over
hers, spending just a moment longer on the bottom than the top.

    He knew the moment his lips touched hers that he was desperately wrong and
he needed so much more from her. But he would never take it unless she
offered it. This was his taste. And he feared more than anything that it
would be his last. With his eyes closed he grazed her mouth once more before
pulling away a bit. He breathed her in deeply, loving the smell of her, a
smell uniquely Buffy that could never be bottled and sold. Keeping his eyes
closed, he stayed that way, inches away from her face, just being in the
moment.

    “Spike…”

    He tensed. This was the moment. She would never speak to him again; never
look at him with trust. He blew it. It was over. Everything was over.

    “Spike…”

    Spike slowly opened his eyes. She had opened her eyes and was looking at
him with that unreadable face she always kept around him.

    “Buffy, I’m so-“ he didn’t get a chance to finish. From nowhere, Buffy’s
hand came out to gently press against his lips.

    “Shh…” was all she said. Watching the myriad of emotions filter through her
eyes, a tiny spark of hope lit flame in his heart.

    Buffy locked eyes with his. There would be no more time for talking; it was
time to just feel like he had told her to. She smiled and looked into his
eyes knowing her emotions were out there for him to see. She watched as the
fear left his eyes and he smiled softly. Buffy’s hand traced the contours of
Spike’s bottom lip moving to the hollow expanse of his cheek and then around
through his soft hair to the nape of his neck. With their eyes never leaving
each other she brought his head down the last few inches to her own, closing
the distance both physically and emotionally at last.

    The kiss started out soft as they reassured each other that this was what
they both wanted. It quickly became anything but soft though as their need
and desire finally became too much to hold back any longer. They couldn’t be
sure who deepened the kiss first, maybe they both did, but it wasn’t
important. As their mouths opened and their tongues slid against each other
someone moaned; it felt too good not to.

    Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck while Spike ran his long fingers
through her hair to the base of her neck. He quickly pulled loose the
scarlet scarf in her hair and threw it somewhere in the distance. A golden
wave of soft hair spilled over her shoulders as her black jacket fell from
her shoulders.

    With great reluctance, Spike released himself from her lips for a moment
and looked into her eyes.

    “Buffy…” he said, his voice a deep purr and his eyes glazed with need and
desire, “If you don’t want this, you better stop now. Because if you start
something you can’t finish, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop…”

    “I want you, Spike.” Buffy told him, and brought her lips to his. Spike
groaned against her as he realized that this was truly happening. He brought
one arm to behind her back and the other behind her legs and lifted her up
from the couch, his mouth never leaving hers.

    When they got to his bedroom they nearly fell onto it, Spike landing on top
of Buffy. Spike let his elbows take the brunt of weight as he let his hands
weave through her hair. Buffy, meanwhile, couldn’t keep her hands still.
They touched and caressed every inch of Spike she could reach, taking sheer
delight in the feel of his muscles flexing in his back and shoulders. Buffy
loved the feel and weight of Spike on top of her. Usually the position was
confining and lacking control when she had been with Riley and the one time
with Angel, but this was exhilarating. She loved the idea of giving up all
her control to him, knowing he was doing the same for her. Spike broke the
kiss and moved onto Buffy’s earlobe and neck. ‘Cor, she tasted so good.’

    “Spike.”

    “Yeah, luv,” came the muffled voice reply from the ivory depths of her
neck.

    Buffy took the moment to breathe before even trying to form a sentence.
God, that man knew how to use that mouth…

    “Spike,” Buffy tried again, “We’re wearing way too much for us to do what I
really want to do.”

    Spike stopped and looked down at Buffy. Her lips were swollen from where
they had assaulted each other, her face was flushed, her breathing and
heartbeat fast, and her eyes were the deepest shade of green he had ever
saw. His pants, which had grown progressively tighter, were now painfully
encompassing. He wanted them off now but tonight was not a night to rush
things. He had wanted this for years and he was not going to let it by so
quickly.

    Spike smiled down at the woman lying underneath him. This was going to be
fun.

    Taking the bottom of her red shirt, Spike inched it up the Slayer’s body
slowly. He delighted in every bare section of skin exposed, taking his time
with working them with his mouth. Spike seemed to have gotten lost in her
belly button but Buffy didn’t mind at all, squirming this way and that as
her body received a tongue-lashing.

    Spike managed to keep up the slow pace until he reached her breasts. The
shirt was in the way now. Carefully yet quickly removing the garment up and
over her head, Spike sat back and gazed at Buffy’s breasts.

    “Uh, Spike? You okay there?” Buffy asked when Spike made no move to
continue.

    “Sorry, Buffy, but I’m staring at your boobs.”

    “I kinda got that much. What? Is something wrong with them?”

    “Yeah.”

    “And what exactly would that be?” The fair Slayer asked, her voice tinged
with irritation.

    “They’ve got this black bra on them and as much as I love your lingerie, I
would rather have the taste of your flesh in my mouth than lace.”

    Buffy couldn’t help it, she laughed. Leave it to Spike to make her laugh
during sex. It was at that point that Buffy realized that she was really
doing this and that it wouldn’t just be great, it would be fun too.

    “Well, if you don’t like it, then take it off.”

    Before she had even finished the sentence, the sentence Spike had the first
clasp unhooked and the material parted to the side. All rational thought
left her as Spike took her left nipple into his mouth, both biting and
licking it at the same time. Her right breast was not to be ignored either.
Spike’s hand seemed to be mimicking what his mouth was doing and Buffy
nearly came from the sensation alone. Spike moved from one
breast to another until the stimulation
became almost painful and just when Buffy
thought that she could take no more, he moved
up to kiss her again.  Buffy latched onto
his mouth, entwining her fingers with his
right hand as his left hand worked its way
down her body to the zipper on her pants.
Buffy lifted her hips as Spike removed her
pants and threw it on the floor in the
general direction of her shirt and then he
stopped again, staring at her underwear.

"Something wrong with my panties now as
well," Buffy arched her eyebrow and asked as
he caressed her hip.

"Buffy...God, I need you so much..."

Buffy reached down and cupped Spike through
his jeans causing them both to gasp.  They both
stopped breathing for a second before Spike
let out an animalistic growl.

"Well I would hope so," Buffy croaked as she
caressed his length through the material of
his pants.

Once Buffy touched him she couldn't seem to
get enough.  Grabbing the ends of his shirt,
she yanked it over his head, as he tossed it
to the ground with the rest of the discarded
clothes.  She let her hands run down his arms,
delighting in the way goosebumps seemed to
follow the path of her hands.  She had always
loved Spike's chest, the way it was muscular
and firm but not too muscular.  She let her

fingers dance across his nipples, watching as
they puckered and hardened beneath her touch.
Spike's head had fallen forward and he
watched her with clouded eyes.  Buffy played
with the expanse of his chest and unbuttoned
his pants to cup his flesh in her hands.
Spike had let his hand wander down and under
the elastic of her panties, gently
cupping her before he let his fingers wander
from her folds to her clit and back again.
Buffy was making little moaning noises,
beyond the point of caring what she sounded
like.  Spike gave the Slayer a quick kiss before
he slowly slid down her body trailing kisses
as he went and taking her underwear along
with him.  She now lay completely nude before
him and it was all he could do not to
give off a tarzanic yell of triumph. He creeped up to her, kissing her legs,
nuzzling her thighs until he reached-

She suddenly tensed up and Spike looked up at her, concern etching his face.

"Something wrong, luv?"

She turned from him, her cheeks blushing furiously. "No one's ever...done
that...for me before..."

He smiled as he realized that she probably didn't get a lot of creative
liscense with Regular Joe-Schmo and he delighted in that he was to teach her
new ways to feel...

He crawled on top her again and kissed her neck, whispering in her ear, "Do
you want me to taste you, Buffy? Do you need me to touch you?"

Buffy was trembling almost out of control and she moaned in his ear, "Yes,
Spike...god, yes..."

Buffy parted her thighs for the vampire giving
him access to the spot she so desperately
needed him to be.  Never taking his eyes from
her face Spike breathed her musky scent in
before slowly, ever so slowly lowering his
mouth to her.  His first order of business
was to lick her from top to bottom which
required him to hold her down as she nearly
came off the bed at the first contact with
his mouth.  Parting her folds with his hand,
Spike licked her again allowing his tongue
to delve into her.  In and out, he tried to
get his tongue as far into her as possible.
God she was so wet and he was lapping her up
like a kitten at a bowl of milk.  Buffy's
head was thrown back, her lips slightly
parted and she was making the most beautiful
noises he had ever heard in his life all
because of what he was doing to her.

In fact, the Slayer believed she was about to die.  She knew
for a fact, in her somewhat of a medical opinion, that a
body could not handle this much pleasure.
She was waiting for the moment when her heart
would burst from the sensations that her blonde lover
was creating with his mouth, only to scream in pleasure
when Spike replaced his mouth with his
fingers, two to be precise.  God, where did
he learn to do that, nevermind she didn't
want to know, just God please don't let him
stop.

Who knew that his Slayer was so vocal during sex,
yet another plus to add to his growing list
of things he loved about her.  Spike had
two fingers in Buffy, slowly pumping in and
out as he circled her clit with his tongue,
never fully touching it.  On the down stroke
of his fingers, Spike was curling them
inwards towards her inner wall searching for
that one magical spot that was so illusive in a
woman.  Each stroke gently scraping his nail
along her insides all along keeping up the
movement of his mouth.  He must have been
doing something right because Buffy was not
only getting tighter and tighter but she was
also getting louder. "

"Oh...yeah...Spike, right there...god...don't
stop...please..."

Not that he had any notion of stopping in the
first place.  Spike redoubled his efforts,
pumping his fingers faster and faster,
keeping in time with the movement of his
tongue.  He knew that she was on the brink,
he could feel her hovering on the edge.
Without any warning, he sucked Buffy's
clit into his mouth hard and swift and that's
all it took to push her over the edge.
Buffy let out a wail that sounded
suspiciously like his name and shot up to
almost a sitting position as she climaxed
hard around his fingers and mouth.
He held on to her and rode out her orgasm
with her, slowing down his fingers and mouth
as she came down from her high.

Buffy sank back onto the bed, completely
exhausted, she couldn't remember ever coming
so hard in her life.  She felt Spike slide
up her body, stopping above her with a
triumphant grin on his face.  If she had been
able to move she would have attempted to wipe
that grin off but unfortunately her muscles
didn't seem to work.  Spike leaned down and
kissed Buffy, long, hard and wet.  He still
had the taste of her on his tongue and it
mingled in their mouths, surprisingly turning
her on even more.

"Did you like that?" Spike asked lazily and
Buffy could only laugh in reply.  His
arrogance was going to be a problem but one
that she felt capable of dealing with.

Buffy reached down into Spike's pants once
again and watched as he flinched with a
mixture of pleasure and pain.  She didn't
think that it was possible for him to get any
harder but she was determined to try.

"Seems to me that you have a little situation
going on down here, William."

"Little?" Spike actually managed to look
offended.

"Well, maybe not so little, how about we take
a look?"

Buffy hooked her fingers into the waistband
of both his boxers and jeans and pulled them
down carefully over Spike's not so little
erection.  In fact, Buffy was more then
impressed by his size.  This was going to be
fun, she thought.  When his jeans joined the
growing pile of cloths on the floor Buffy,
without warning, flipped Spike onto his
back, straddling his groin.  She ground her
pelvis onto his crotch and watched as he
groaned and his eyes rolled into the back of
his head.  Well that was an interesting
reaction she thought and extremely cute.
Sliding down his legs, Buffy settled herself
above his penis and slowly stroked him from
balls to tip front and back, paying close
attention to the underside of his erection.
Placing one hand around the base of his cock, she stroked him at first
gentle than hard and gentle again. Over and over she did this and  Spike's
had for some reason started breathing, short and heavy, and he was making
little grunting noises with each touch of her fingers but his eyes never
left her, watching
her eyes as she caressed him.  Just when he
thought he couldn't stand it anymore, Buffy gripped him almost painfully and
stroked him hard. God, if he had
known Buffy  could do this, he would
have jumped her years ago.  As Buffy started to stroke his dick up and down
and fondle
his balls all rational thought left his brain
which made sense since all his blood had
suddenly moved south.  Spike could feel the
urgent need for release approaching at an
astonishing pace and if he didn't stop Buffy
and those beautiful hands, soon things were
going to get messy.

"Slayer...god Buffy...you...you need to
stop..."

Buffy just looked at him innocently, raised
her eyebrow and continued to work away on
him.

"I want...I want to come...oh yeah...in
you...Buffy," Spike pleaded and that seemed
to get her attention because she let him
go with an audible pop and let her hands crawl back up him.

Spike gulped in unnecessary gasps of air as he tried to
regain some control over himself.  Buffy,
smiling like the kitty that ate the canary
laid down on top of him and idling played
with his nipples.  There was something about
his nipples that absolutely fascinated
her.

Spike eyed his fair angel, "Well aren't you pleased
with yourself."

"As a matter of fact..."

And just like that Buffy was on her back
with Spike firmly positioned between her
legs.  It wasn't an unpleasant position to be
in and she just laughed and kissed Spike
playfully.  This night couldn't possibly get
any better she thought just before to her
surprise it did.

Spike firmly yet slowly slid into Buffy,
both of them taken by surprise at the
sensations being generated.  All laughter
stopped as Spike stretched, filled and sank
completely into her.  They both looked at
each other and gave a collective gasp.
Nothing had ever felt so right for them
before.  Every moment in their lives, every
choice they had ever made led to this one
moment in time, this one perfect union and
they both knew it.  The amount of love that
Buffy realized she felt for this man was more then she
could contain and she reached up and ran her
hand across his face, memorizing the feel and
look of him.  Spike couldn't for the life of
him look away, the look in her eyes was
there because of him and he was awed by it's
power.  She shifted underneath him,
lifting her legs up and around his lower back
and to the amazement of both of them, Spike
sank even deeper into her causing them both
to moan from the sensation.  Slowly as to not
break the moment, Spike began to move,
pulling almost all the way out before sinking
back in to the hilt.  Spike kept his strokes
long, slow and deep, reveling in the looks
passing across Buffy's face each time he
sank into her.  She tightened her thighs
around his sides and gripped his back,
pushing him unbelievably deeper and deeper
into her.  Soon long and slow movements
weren't enough anymore and their pace
increased as the tension in their bodies
reached astonishing levels.

Buffy could feel her orgasm gathering and
let Spike know exactly what he was doing to
her as it approached which in turn made
him more frantic in his need to make her
come again.  Soon all pretense of finesse was
lost as he pumped furiously in and out of
Buffy with wild abandon.  This was going to
be so good but if she didn't hurry up he
was going to be enjoying it without her.
Grabbing her hips he lifted her
slightly for a better angle accidently
hitting some mysterious spot because Buffy
just snapped.

"YES...SPIKE...OH GOD...SPIKE!"

And just like that Buffy was over the edge
and convulsing around him.  Spike needed no
further encouragement and in a couple of hard
strokes he gushed into her over and over
again as he screamed her name.

Spike collapsed on Buffy and quickly rolled
onto his back taking her with him.  It had
been awhile since he had had sex but he
didn't remember it ever being that good. But he discovered to himself that
he had not just merely had sex with Buffy...he had made love to her.
Something he realized he had never done before. With Dru it had been passion
with wild abandon and that had been it. He
was also more than just a little proud of his
performance since Buffy was having a hard
time breathing and didn't seem to be able to
move, not bad for being almost 130.

Buffy, meanwhile, couldn't move but more
importantly, she didn't want to, life was too
perfect right now.  Making love to Spike
just seemed so right, no regrets or remorse
were overtaking her now that they had taken
the final step.  The only thing that was
settling over her was bliss as she laid limbs
entwined with Spike.  She loved this man, she realized, she had for a long
time,
she had just demonstrated it physically, the
only thing left to do was to say it out loud,
she was no longer afraid to do so.


"I love you," he whispered as his lips were
pressed into her hair and he absently stroked
through the mass of gold, "You don't how long I've needed you. Wanted you.
Cor, you're everything, Buffy."  He said it
almost as if to himself, whispered on a
breath, whispered on a pray but it was all
the encouragement that she needed.

Buffy leaned back far enough so that she
could see his face clearly and still keep in
contact with his body.  She gently caressed
his face with her hand.

"Spike, ever since I was in high school you've been following me, you're
everywhere I go...and at first I thought you just wanting to kill me so
bad...but I was wrong. And...I've treated you like a monster for all the
time I knew you. Because I was afraid. I was afraid I would trust you and
then I would be betrayed, just like I've always been. That you would leave
and it would just be another name to add to the list. But you never left.
Not even when I told you you were...beneath me...I never understood, but I
do now..."

Her eyes searched Spike's face for
understanding and the love she saw shining
back encouraged her go on.

"I know no one will understand, they've been thinking that I  chose the
wrong path when I left...where I was. They
don't understand, but you always do.  And I understand now more than ever."

Buffy took a breath.  She had spent most of her life as a Slayer with Spike,
maybe not in direct contact but he had always been there. Even when she had
died, he was still there.

"The choices we make might lead to different
paths, Spike, different lives... but what I've found out, what I finally let
myself see, is... that all my paths
lead to you."

Buffy could feel the tears slip silently
down her face and watched as they were
mirrored in Spike's, knowing that they were
tears of discovery and joy.  She finally
allowed herself to say what she had never thought she could feel.

"This is where I'm supposed to be, Spike...I
know what I have now...I love you."

The words were barely out of her mouth when
she felt Spike's lips press up against hers.
It was a gentle and loving kiss, one filled
with promises of many tomorrows.  Buffy laid
her head back on Spike's chest and let the
rhythmic rubbing of his hand through her hair
to lull her to sleep, happy and content.

Spike lay there with Buffy in his arms
feeling more at peace then he could remember.
She loved him.   She had said it, which was
just as magical as their love making.  For the
first time in a long time, he knew that he
would have no problems sleeping this night,
not with Buffy finally in his arms.  He
tightened his grip on his slumbering partner
and welcomed the dreams to come.


TBC