Disclaimer: The characters all belong to Joss.

Prologue

"Did you get Merlot?" the girl asked as her sister closed the car door.

"It doesn't matter what I got, this is America, and you're not drinking." the blond said as she adjusted her seat belt.

"Please Buffy, I drink all the time in Italy. I'm only going to have one glass. I'll still be able to drive you home."

Buffy sighed, "All right, one glass of wine."

Dawn smiled triumphantly. Little by little she was getting her older sister to trust her and treat her like an adult.

The girls settled into silence as Dawn pulled the car onto the streets of L.A. The driving was a little crazy. There weren't that many cars out, but it was Christmas Eve, and everyone who was out driving was in a hurry. Even so, Dawn deftly wove in and out of traffic.

"You make it look so easy," Dawn glanced at her sister puzzled, "the driving."

Dawn laughed, "Hey, you're The Slayer, I'm The Driver," Dawn smiled. Driving was about the only thing that required coordination that she could do better than Buffy. Of course, she figured she'd had the advantage of a better teacher. Drivers ED teachers were notoriously twitchy. You'd think they would have been used to near death experiences from student drivers, but they were always so tense. It usually caused the students to tense up.

Dawn however, had secretly, and illegally, learned from Spike, long before she'd gone to Drivers ED, or even had a permit. Not that learning how to drive at night, in a car with blacked out windows was easy. But Spike had never been nervous, even if he had grimaced a time or two at her abuse of the DeSoto's clutch.

Dawn wasn't entirely sure why she'd never told Buffy how she learned to drive. Maybe it was because it had been during that awful summer when Buffy had been dead. Maybe it was because it had been such a private time between her and Spike.

Oddly it was then that her crush on Spike had worn off. Both her mom and Buffy had been gone, and teaching you to drive was such a parental thing to do that their relationship had shifted. They were no longer partners in crime (unless you counted underage driving). Spike had become almost a father to her, or at least an older brother.

She smiled remembering how the evil vampire had tried so hard to "do right" by her. All the slip ups he'd made when his view of the world conflicted with what he knew Buffy would want her to be told.

They drove on further in silence. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Buffy finally said. "It's Christmas Eve, maybe he isn't even home. We should have called first."

Dawn sighed. Here we go again, she thought.

"First of all, it's the middle of the day, not a big time for vampires to be up and active. Second of all, I somehow doubt that Spike is out with Angel decorating a tree, singing Jingle Bells, and drinking Egg Nog." she giggled at the image. "Thirdly, we don't even know if Spike has a phone."

"Exactly, daylight, he's probably asleep. It's really rude to just barge in and wake him up. Besides, what if he doesn't want to see us?"

"I'm sure he wants to see us. And if he doesn't, he's just dumb and deserves to be disturbed. That's the address, looks kind of normal doesn't it?" Dawn said as they pulled into the parking lot of a rather typical L.A. apartment building.

"It must be the wrong address. We're probably going to disturb some complete stranger on Christmas Eve, we should go back."

Dawn sighed. If she could just get Buffy to the door she was sure it would be alright.

They got out of the car, and Dawn stopped dead in her tracks.

"Dawn, what is it?" her sister asked.

"Oh. My. God. That's a Viper."

"What? Snakes? Where?" Buffy asked, falling into a ready to stop things, fighting stance.

"Not a snake silly. The car. There. Look," she said pointing.

Buffy looked at the red sports car, but was obviously not that impressed. "So?" she asked, "It's a car."

"It not just a car. It's a Viper. Oh, never mind, let's go." Dawn gave up. Her sister's car ignorance was just too embarrassing. How could she not even know what a Viper was?

Chapter 1: Gift Exchange

He growled in frustration as the old chinese monk grabbed and threw him. This was ridiculous, he was Spike, the Big Bad, or at least the former Big Bad. Fighting is what he did. He was an expert. It was second nature. So how could he be loosing?

"GAME OVER" boomed the computer voice.

"Stupid bloody game!" he cursed. "Virtual Fighter my ass, got nothing to do with real combat." That was it, he told himself. In a real fight you could watch your opponents eyes, tell what they were going to do. But not with some silly machine. Besides, he thought, my fingers still haven't fully recovered from being chopped off. If I had my full dexterity back I'd beat this game hands down.

He winced at the idiom. No gonna keep my hands fully attached from now on. And if I want them to be good as new, I'll just have to keep on playing, he thought as he hit the start button to replay the fight.

Just then there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he yelled absently, as he tried to execute a flying kick.

The door opened, and before he could turn his head to look, he heard a familiar squeal as he was enveloped in a hug.

"Spike, you big jerk." said the armful of teenager he was now holding.

He smiled, "And how are you Nibblet?" He hugged her back, breathing her in, clean and young with the scent of apples in her hair. Then he disentangled himself from her. Stood, and held her at arms length so that he could get a good look at her and avoid looking at the figure in the door. "Bloody hell, you've turned into a young woman, you're not a bit anymore, are you?"

She smiled shyly, a little embarrassed. Blushing, she looked down at her feet and shoved her hair behind her ear as she said, "You can still call me that, it's okay."

There was no avoiding it anymore, he looked at the figure in the doorway. Her hair was long and straight, spilling over her right shoulder the end coming to rest half way down her breast so that, he imagined, were she naked, her nipple would just peek out from underneath.

Of course she wasn't naked. She wore a white turtle neck sweater that clung tightly to her curves. Her long jean skirt lead his eyes down to her feet. She wore delicate black heels, the thin black straps crisscrossing her feet to show off her toes which were painted with a white glittering polish.

She was holding a brown paper bag which she was balancing on her left hip. The way she had her weight on her right leg with her left hip jutting reminded him of an Indian statue. As soon as the thought entered his head he regretted it. Suddenly his head was filled with images of Buffy, topless, with long necklaces or garlands flowing between her breasts, and her arms up and open, welcoming like a fertility goddess. Or better yet, Durga in the middle of killing some demon.

As he tried to wrestle the fantasy's involving Buffy and some of his favorite pictures from a copy of the Kama Sutra (which his uncle had secretly given him on a Christmas Eve over 130 years ago) out of his head, he realized that Buffy hadn't said anything, hadn't moved, and neither had he.

Typical, he thought, I save the world, and she can't even say thanks. Or give me a kiss. Save the girl, get a kiss. Isn't that supposed to be the deal?

It was Dawn who had to break the long silence that hung between the two. "So umm, Merry Christmas Spike. We have presents, but Buffy's is lame, and not even wrapped, so she might as well give it to you now."

"Dawn!" Buffy snapped. Then she reached into the bag. "Merry Christmas William," she said as she handed him a bottle.

William. Why the hell had she called him William. The only other time she'd done that, it had been when she'd broken up with him. Fuck, why doesn't she just say, 'Stay the hell away from me,' he thought.

He looked at the bottle. "I always thought you had good taste," he laughed as he saw that she had bought him a bottle of 21 year old Irish whisky. "Thanks, pet. Would you like a glass?"

"Ewwww. God no Spike, I can't stand that stuff. I just guessed it was good by the price. I suppose I could have called Giles and asked him what type to buy, but. . . anyway, I also brought some wine for Dawn and me. One glass only." she added glaring at her sister, "I figured since you weren't expecting us you might not have much in the way of refreshments for the living. Unless of course you have plans. Do you?"

Her voice dropped on the last part, and he thought maybe he detected a hint of apprehension in her voice.

He turned toward the kitchen area of the small one room apartment, chuckling. "No plans, luv. A couple people invited me to dinner, but Christmas, not really a big holiday for vampires. Better than Easter though." He pulled three glasses out of a cupboard, grabbed a chair from the table, and brought it over to the couch.

"Huh? What's the wrong with Easter? It's vengeance demons, not vampires that have bunny-phobia." Dawn asked.

"Crosses." Spike answered, as he motioned for them to sit on the couch. "You read Sumerian and you don't know Christianity 101?" he paused, "Sorry don't have any wine glasses."

He opened the bottle of wine and poured the two girls each a glass, though he only poured a small amount for Dawn. A glass of wine was a very subjective thing, and he had no idea what Buffy considered 'one glass'.

"Hey," Dawn grumbled when she saw how much less Spike had poured for her than for her sister.

Next he poured himself a glass of whisky. Sipping it, he smiled. It had been awhile since he'd bothered to get anything really good to drink. Between the chip and having a soul, money was much tighter than when he'd simply killed people for what he wanted, hundred dollar bottles of whiskey were defiantly not in his budget.

"Sure you don't want any?"

"I'll try a little," said Dawn.

"NO!" both Buffy and Spike said at once. They looked at each other and all three of them laughed, even Dawn although she pretended to be disappointed.

"So we know my excuse, why aren't you two with those near and dear today?"

"We are." Buffy said, her voice firm, as she smiled at him. Spike hadn't been fishing for a sign of her affection, he was just used to being the outsider when it came to her life. Not to mention several months as a ghost tends to make a fellow feel not quiet there. Even so he warmed inside, before he reminded himself that it just meant they were friends, nothing more.

"Besides, Dad's in some sort of supper overcompensation Christmas overload. The whole Sunnydale getting swallowed by the earth kind of freaked him," Buffy continued, "I think he's bought his third set of extra presents for us, so it helped for us to get out of the house while he gets things ready for tomorrow."

"Oh, presents! I almost forgot my not last-minute-way-to-obvious present." Dawn said fishing in her purse. Buffy just glared at her sister. "Here you go Spike."

"You really didn't have to." he said, although he was rather thrilled. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had given him anything. Well, anything other than jewelry that caused him to burst into flames.

She handed him a small gift, wrapped in gold foil, and tied with a red ribbon. He snapped the ribbon with his fingers, then he carefully slid his index finger between the layers of paper at the top of the gift, so as to loosen the tape, and not tear the paper. He wasn't aware of the care he was taking, in not tearing the paper. The only times he had even been given a wrapped present he had been alive, and back then such paper was rather expensive. It was habit to preserve it so it could be reused.

As he saw what lay beneath the paper, his face lit up, and he laughed. She had given him a copy of "The Nightmare Before Christmas" on DVD. She and Spike had watched it together half a dozen times at least.

He still remembered the night they had first watched it together. He had agreed to watch her for the Scoobies and they had gone to rent a movie. They had argued about what they were going to watch. He wouldn't let her watch anything R rated afraid of what Buffy might have thought of him corrupting her little sister. Anything not R rated that she wanted to watch he complained was a chick flick, and good and wholesome. "What are you trying to do, turn me into some sort of white hat, nancy-boy, fuzzy puppy-dog?"

"Oh, what about this. It's got vampires, and witches, and ghosts, and lost of scary things."

"It's bloody claymation 'bit. Oh, what the hell."

Despite his worst intentions, he'd liked it. From then on it was their movie. They watched it half a dozen times at least. That was until she had started drawing comparisons between him and Jack Skelington. Pointing out that both of them tried to do good things, but weren't very good at it, had caused an argument that had the evil vampire swearing he would never watch it again.

Dawn had gambled that the new ensouled Spike would be of a different mind.

"Thank you bit." he said as he hugged her. "Well, I suppose you'll be wanting your gifts then." He crossed the room, and by extension the apartment, to a small writing desk.

"Spike it's okay, we know you didn't expect us." Buffy hurriedly replied.

He chuckled as he pulled two small gifts from the on top of the desk. She wasn't expecting me to have gotten them anything, he thought.

"I meant to mail these off to you, but I figured, what with the coming back from the dead, I should send a note. Wasn't sure what to say." The truth was he'd spent hours, possibly even days when you added it all together, trying to write to Buffy.

"Here you go 'bit." He handed Dawn a gift wrapped in red paper, with snowmen on it, and a green ribbon. On top was a envelope for a card.

Eagerly Dawn pulled off the ribbon and opened the envelope and read the card:

Merry Christmas Dawn,

Read this, don't tell your sister, and I'll finally teach you to ride a motorcycle.

Love,
Spike

Curious, Dawn ripped through the paper, to find a copy of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". Dawn giggled mischievously, remembering the many times she had tried to convince Spike to teach her to ride a motorcycle, and understanding that lessons were her true gift.

"I'm going to hold you to that you know." she said as she hugged him.

Chapter 2: The Locket and the Evil Foot Massage

"Hold him to what?" Buffy asked, annoyed at being confused by the gifts her sister and Spike had given each other.

"Here you go, luv. Hope it's not. . . well I hope you like it. Sorry it's not wrapped" Spike said, trying to distract her.

It worked as Buffy noticed the nervousness in his voice and looked down into his hand at the small silver box. She took the box and a deep breath. It was obviously a jewelry box. Spike had bought her jewelry. Luckily, she thought, it's not real jewelry. It wasn't one of the soft felt boxes that expensive jewelry came in, just one of the small silver cardboard boxes you got when you bought a twenty dollar pewter pendant at the mall.

"I'm sure I'll like it."

She opened the box, and inside, lay a silver heart shaped locket.

"Go on open it up. Look inside," he prompted, carefully gauging her reaction.

Typical, she thought, he's given me a picture of himself. No, no ego there. Nope, none at all.

She popped the locket open. Her breath caught in her throat, and tears sprang to her eyes almost instantly.

"Oh, Spike. . . it's . . ." she was too emotional to continue, and for the first time since they'd arrived she moved in closer than arms reach as she threw herself into him, hugging him, burying her face in his chest.

He pulled her in close, and kissed the top of her head. "I'm glad you like it," he whispered.

She stood there for a moment, feeling as if she had melted into him. Then she became aware of her hand on his chest. It's really a very nice chest, she thought while she fought the urge to trace his muscles with her fingers. Realizing the direction her mind was going she pulled back, away from him.

"What is it?" Dawn demanded.

Weakly Buffy opened her hand, to show her sister the locket.

"Mom?" the younger Summers whispered, as she saw the picture.

"Thank you Spike. I don't know how. . . I thought all the pictures had been destroyed. No don't tell me it's probably some dark mojo I'm better off not knowing. . . Will you put it on me?" Buffy turned her back to him and pulled her hair aside revealing her neck.

Involuntarily he licked his lips at the sight of her neck. He took the locket from her, and let it fall low on her chest. Then he slowly dragged the two ends up, around her neck, tracing her collar bone with his fingers as he did so. Despite the fabric between his fingers and her skin, she trembled a bit, involuntarily imagining his fingers tracing other parts of her anatomy. Then he clasped the necklace and brushed her hair back so it fell evenly across her shoulders.

She turned around smiling even though there were still tears in her eyes.

"Thank you, I'll wear it always."

"I'm just glad you like it. And don't worry, no black magic involved, just the magic of the internet."

Both girls looked at him puzzled.

"Your mum's gallery? They had a memorial to her on their web site with a picture. Had a friend size it down for me, and print it out all nice like."

"But wouldn't the website have been destroyed along with the gallery and Sunnydale?" Buffy asked, puzzled.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Buffy, the web page wouldn't have been on one of the gallery's computers. Who knows where the server was, but there was no reason why it would have been in Sunnydale. They probably paid for server space for a whole year, and no one thought to take the page down, what with the apocalypse."

"Oh," Buffy hated it when her sister talked down to her like that. Not everyone could be a Willow with computers. "Well in any case, thank you again. We lost all our photos in Sunnydale, and although Dad has some of Dawn and me, he didn't keep any of Mom after the divorce."

"Your welcome Buffy. And um, sorry about destroying your home."

Buffy laughed, "Yeah, I'm going to beat the crap out of you for closing the Hellmouth. Do you know how nice it is to not have to worry about whether Xander's newest girlfriend is a demon and going to eat him or something? And that's just for starters."

They all smiled, relaxed, and began to joke about old times and catch up on life post Sunnydale.

*****************************

Buffy sipped her glass of wine and smiled, wondering how she could be so comfortable, and tense all at once. He was so easy to talk to. She didn't have to watch what she said. Not only did he know and understand her as the Slayer, but he'd seen her at her worst, most pathetic, and he hadn't run away.

On the other hand, there was all their baggage. And it wasn't one of those small wheeled suitcase that fit under the seat in front of you, no it was the full 20 piece set of Cordelia Chase, going away for the weekend with all her shoes, baggage.

Since she had first found out he was alive from Andrew, she had been trying to figure out how to let him know how she felt. Let him know how much his friendship had meant to her. And yet, she didn't want to lead him on. She had to make it clear that they were not going to be a couple. She wanted him to be able to move on.

And then she'd seen him. Walked through that door and there he was, Spike, alive. Looking, well, like Spike. Same hair, same black tee-shirt, same black jeans, same blue eyes drinking her in, caressing her. She wanted to run hug him, like Dawn did. Tell him how stupid he was for hiding from her, for not telling her he was alright. Yell at him for leaving her, just like everyone else did.

And then Dawn had to bring up the suckyness of her gift. She had been searching for a gift, long before Christmas. Ever since she discovered from Andrew that he was alive. But she found out how little she knew about Spike, about what he liked other than her.

All she really knew was that he liked fighting and fucking, drinking and smoking. That didn't leave a great range of gift options. Anything sexual would send the wrong message. Weaponry was out, not just because it was difficult to ship from one country to another, but the implication was that she saw him as fighter and nothing else.

That left tobacco and alcohol. She had never known him to smoke cigars. Plus cigars, hello Freudian imagery. It wasn't as if Spike couldn't read something sexual into almost anything, no need to make it so obvious. She had kept hoping that she would find something. That something would leap out at her as being perfect, but nothing had, and so she'd found herself making the last minute run to the liquor store. So it wasn't a great gift, but then she'd never guessed he would have a gift for her.

And what a gift. For the hundredth time her hand reached down to caress the locket. It was probably the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her. It had effected her enough that she'd forgotten her internal promise to minimize physical contact with Spike and she'd thrown herself into his arms.

It had felt so good but she'd noticed something. He wasn't hard. Spike was always hard for her, or at least it had seemed like it back in Sunnydale. Had she been the only one who'd found the hug intimate. A little too intimate. But then maybe she was mixing up pre and post soul Spike.

Once again she was filled with doubt. He hadn't gotten in touch with her, hadn't tried to see her, and now he didn't even seem to want her physically anymore.

And that's good she told herself. He is moving on. That's what you want right. He's your friend and you want him to be happy, not to keep on pinning after you.

They sat on the couch together, talking. Dawn had moved onto the floor, and was busy button mashing on some game with really annoying sound.

They'd talked about a lot of things, mostly about what they'd been doing since Sunnydale. Buffy got the feeling he wasn't telling her everything about his experiences since he'd come back, but she wasn't going to push, especially since it seemed to have something to do with Angel. Not a subject she really wanted to get into with Spike. Then they'd talked about Europe and the places that they'd been.

"So why Rome?" he asked.

"Don't know exactly, just the place both Dawn and I really liked. Plus, Italy, shoes." She said pointing her toes to show off her heels. "Although, nice as they look, not big on comfort. Sometimes I think I should stick to my good old American slayer shoes."

He smirked, and before she could react, he had her foot in his hands, and he was undoing the straps on her shoe.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't you trust me luv?" he asked, giving her his best 'innocent' look.

She was about to reply no automatically, when his fingers sunk into the bottom of her arch, making her gasp, and reflexively try and pull her foot back.

"Does that hurt?"

"Yeah, but it's good. It's of the good." This is bad, bad, bad, her brain screamed. But she couldn't imagine pulling her foot out of his hands once he began massaging it.

Thank god Dawn was there. It couldn't be anything more than a foot massage if Dawn was there. Then again even if Dawn wasn't there, she almost doubted that this would go much further, simply because she didn't want the foot rubbing to stop. And that's all it was, the rubbing of feet. Nothing more.

She looked at his face, trying to get some clue as to. . . what? If he was hitting on her? He hadn't really flirted with her much, at least not much for Spike. Sure a complement here, an innuendo there, but it was all very low key for Spike.

He was evil. That was the answer. He had come back from the dead without his soul. That's what he was hiding. That's why he was messing with her head, not to mention her body. Evil vampire, evil foot massage.

Nothing to do but enjoy it, she decided.

Chapter 3: Cause and Effect

Spike had wandered the sewers for hours after Buffy and Dawn had left. He couldn't stay in his apartment. There was no escaping her smell. Who knew when the place would be livable again. Not that there was anyone to blame but himself.

If it had just been her smell, it wouldn't have been too bad. But no, stupid git he was, he had to play with her. Remind her that he knew how to push all her buttons. Not to mention showing her that he could be subtle. His hands and never strayed above her ankle, but she had been putty in them. Even now he smiled at the feeling of power it gave him. Not something he was used to feeling in her presence.

And what was his reward, a couch that smelled of horny slayer.

This is what came of having an apartment. He'd probably have to get the couch steamed to get the smell out. You never have to steam a sarcophagus, now do you?

On the other hand, not everything had gone so badly. He'd been afraid of giving her the locket. Afraid he was overstepping his bounds. But she'd loved it. She was going to wear it everyday, she'd said. And whenever she did, she'd remember who gave it to her. She'd remember him.

Part of him felt a little guilty, getting at her through her mother like that. Another part however
was willing to take what ever scrap of her heart he could scrounge up. That part was dwelling on the scent of her arousal as she'd hugged him. The feel of her in his arms.

Never a demon to be found when you needed a good spot of violence. What were they doing, trimming the bloody tree?

Still, he was proud of himself. He'd kept everything under control. No embarrassing hard-ons in front of the Nibblet. That was one advantage to being a vampire with a soul. An entire repertoire of gruesome experiences that he could feel guilty about at a moments notice. Though the irony that all that blood and brutality had once turned him on, was not lost on him.

Finally the sun went down, and he was able to roam the streets. But they were empty as well. Only one place to find people on Christmas Eve, he thought, a bar.

So he sat alone nursing a beer. But even the bars were nearly empty. Where were all the other poor pathetic wankers he thought. Sure he could have taken Fred up on her offer for dinner, but he got the feeling that all the upper management at Wolfram & Hart had been invited and spending the evening with Angel was not his idea of a good time.

He was thinking that maybe he should relocate to a strip club. That was exactly what he needed to get the Slayer out of his head. Tall women with legs that went all the way up and great large breasts. A lap dance was defiantly in order.

He was just about to get up when a pretty brunette sat down next to him.

"Good to see I'm not the only one with no where to be." she said. She was pretty. Not built like those strippers he'd been thinking of, but she also looked nothing like the Slayer, and it occurred to him that meaningless sex with a stranger might be just as good, if not better than the lap dance. Who knows, maybe he'd luck into getting both.

"Well, someone has to generously tip these poor bastards who got stuck working tonight. Speaking of, can I get you something?"

"Yeah, I'll have a white russian." she told the bartender.

"York?" he asked, listening to her accent.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. More or less. Harrogate, it's about half way between York and Leeds."

"Right, didn't they put some new baths in there?"

"Oh Lord, it's so nice to hear someone refer to something from the 19th century as new. A building's twenty years old here and they seem to want to declare it a historical landmark."

He laughed.

Tonight wasn't going to be a total waste after all, Spike thought. This was exactly what he needed. To move on, forget about Buffy. And most importantly to get laid.

****************************

Spike took one last look at the sleeping figure as he closed the door behind him. He got into the elevator and pushed the button to go down, before he let out a large sigh.

"Idiot," he said under his breath. What was he thinking picking up some normal girl as if were a normal guy. True it hadn't meant anything. He was sure they'd both been quite clear on that, but it had illustrated a valuable point to him. He was going to be alone forever.

The sex had been nice, but he'd realized quickly how careful he had to be. He'd had sex with quite a few human women, but it had always been violent.

Sex isn't the word mate, he scolded himself, rape's the word. Hurting them, tearing them, it had all just been a prelude to killing them, The more they screamed, the more they fought, the better.

Not that sex was everything. Though it was a lot. Not that he couldn't be gentle. That was the very thing he'd been trying to show Buffy with the foot massage earlier. But even if he did find some girl he cared about, she'd be mortal. He'd have to watch her grow old and die.

It wasn't that this had never occurred to him before. He'd thought about it plenty of times since he'd fallen in love with Buffy. Of course with Buffy it had always been a matter of making sure she survived long enough to grow old. Not to mention the fact that he was already in love with her, so he'd always figured he ought to take what ever time they had and make the best of it.

Besides, he was a vampire, he didn't belong to the normal world, and he had no right to drag some nice girl into a world were she was likely to wind up as dinner.

Of course, there was a whole world of slayers out there now, but somehow it seemed horribly unfaithful to Buffy to even think of pursuing another slayer. She was his Chosen One, now and forever. Not to mention that that would make him a little too much like that Robin fellow, minus the Oedipus complex.

Other vampires were out of the question too. First of all, Harmony was the only vampire who would even give him the time of day, and that was only because she was the saddest case of evil he'd ever seen. As long as he had a soul other vampires were not going to touch him. Not that he particularly wanted anything to do with them either.

Ninety-five percent of the vampire population was pathetic. Beasts without any thought other than their next meal. Thugs just waiting for the next Big Bad to put them to some use. He should know, he'd never found himself short of minions when he'd needed them. No, any vampire that had enough personality to be interesting would be a dark evil sadist, and that just no longer did it for him.

Sure there were some demons who weren't evil, but the chances were that he was going to be alone from now on and the thought terrified him. If he was alone, he would have to live for himself, and he had no idea how to do that. He had always lived for someone else, first his mother, then Drusilla, and finally Buffy. Even before he'd loved her, he'd at least lived to kill her.

Now there was a thought. Perhaps he could find a nemesis somewhere.

******************************************

She waited until she herd his steps receding down the hallway. Lord, I thought he'd never leave, the woman thought as she stretched. Not that it had been a bad time, in fact the vampire had been a skillful lover. But the sex had simply been a means to an end. Although, once the spell was cast, she might use him for sex again. It really had been good.

She got up and crossed the room naked, to sit at her vanity. She opened the top drawer, revealing an assortment of black candles, bundled herbs, a jeweled knife, several crystals, and a small golden box. She took out the box and opened it. Then she took a large ring, like a high school class ring, off her finger. Absently her thumb ran across the ring and she shuddered as she felt the power inside of it.

The ring had worked beautifully. He had never felt it when she had pricked him with the tiny needle embedded in the band of the ring. Or as a small amount of his blood had been sucked into the ring to be stored in the hollow gem.

She placed the ring inside the box which glowed for a moment as she closed it. The enchantment on the box would keep the blood fresh and safe until tomorrow night.

The blood of a vampire, drained from him during the height of his passion. And not just any vampire. William the Bloody, who had killed and drained a slayer when he was little more than a fledgling. William the Bloody who had a soul now, who'd saved the world, who was a champion.

Yes, his blood would grant her incredible power, filled as it was with both so much good and evil. She might only have a little of it now, but tomorrow at midnight, she could preform the spell. Then William the Bloody would make the world bleed for her and she'd have her revenge.

Chapter 4: Bad Dreams

Her back arched, and she threw back her head as a long moan escaped her lips. As her orgasm faded, she started to pull her self off of the vampire, unconcerned with the fact that he had not yet come.

Strong hands grabbed her waist and she could feel his cold fingers digging into her back, bruising her, as he pulled her back down on top of him, crying out "Buffy" as he did so. She didn't struggle, but gave in. Letting him finish, as if it was no concern of hers one way or the other.

Three, four times he impaled her with his cock, until he came. Then he let her go, as she collapsed on top of him. They lay there for a moment, with her breathing heavily on top of him.

Then he rolled her over onto her back. Brushing away fragments of two-by-four and dry-wall as he did so, to make a clean space for her to lie on.

Her eyes were closed, she refused to look at him, but she felt his blunt teeth sink into her neck. It sent a shiver through her whole body and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly to her.

She wanted to scream. To beg him to bite her with his other teeth. Bite me, drink me, kill me, fuck me. The litany went on, over and over in her head, but she managed to just lie there as he worked his way down her body, biting her gently with human teeth. It was driving her crazy.

Not to mention his fingers. He had spread both her legs, and the soft folds between them, apart again and was gently rubbing her clit with his fingers. Then his fingers were inside her. First one, then two, as his thumb moved to massage her nub.

He bit her just above her belly button.

"What are you. . . Oh God!" she screamed as he buried his face between her legs and tasted her. She'd never felt anything like it. No one had ever done this to her before.

She was about to reach down to run her fingers through his hair when he was gone. Nothing, nobody was touching her. But she could still hear Spike. Hear him groaning.

She opened her eyes to find herself standing in a bedroom.

Spike was there on the bed, on top of a brunette woman whose face she couldn't see.

"Spike?" she said, hurt more deeply than she could imagine by the sight of him making love to another woman.

He held himself up with one hand as he continued to plunge in and out of the woman. "Do you mind Buffy? I'm a bit busy trying to move on here. It's what you wanted isn't it?"

"I don't think you should be doing that. Spike. I don't think she should be doing that to you."

He looked down and watched as the brunette carved symbols in his chest with a knife. Blood flowed down his white skin covering them both. "It's okay luv, I like it rough. You know that."

A weak voice came from a corner of the room "Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop." She looked over and saw a man curled into a ball. He was wearing a strange suit and rocking back and forth as he held his knees. His face was down and she couldn't see much of him other than his mousy brown hair. Even so he seemed familiar to her.

"It's okay. I'll help you. It's what I do," she said putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Just tell me what's wrong."

"It isn't proper. It isn't right." he said, and looked up at her.

She gasped as she looked into the blue eyes she knew so well.

"Spike!"

She sat straight up in bed.

The next moment she was scrambling to get dressed. Spike was in trouble. She was sure of it. That had been a slayer dream if she had ever had one. And yet, she couldn't remember a slayer dream ever interrupting a regular dream and the first part had not been something that was going to happen but something that already had.

She threw on a tank-top and a pair of sweats. Automatically she started looking for weapons, before remembering that all she had brought with her was one stake. It was too difficult getting weapons through customs. Spike will have weapons at his place, she thought, as she left her room.

She tip-toed downstairs careful not wake anyone and grabbed her father's keys from a ring in the kitchen. Despite Dawn's complaints she was glad her dad's SUV was an automatic. She didn't know what she would have done if she had to drive a stick.

As soon as she was on the road driving took up all her concentration, for which she was grateful. It kept her from thinking about how she had felt seeing Spike with the faceless woman.

The clock on the dashboard read 1:43 as she pulled into the parking lot at Spike's building. She flew down the stairs into the basement, stake in hand, not thinking that bursting in on a vampire with a stake at the ready wasn't exactly polite.

She was about to burst through the door to his apartment, when she came up short. Something had been nagging at the back of her mind since she'd parked. She couldn't sense any vampires of any kind nearby, not to mention that specific feeling she got when Spike was around.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, searching for any sign that a vampire was near.

Nothing.

It was too late. That was why the slayer dream had interrupted her regular dream. She had been too slow. Maybe if she'd driven faster. She didn't know what to do. How was she supposed to find him in L.A. Why hadn't the stupid dream given her any clues.

Maybe because it wasn't a slayer dream, a little voice in the back of her head said. Slayer dreams never happen at the last moment, and they don't interrupt other dreams. It was just a dream. A regular dream. That was all.

But if it wasn't a slayer dream it meant that she hadn't been bothered by seeing Spike with another woman because she was hurting him, but because she was jealous.

No one hurts Spike but me, is that it? she asked herself. God, how pathetic is that? She didn't want Spike for herself, but no one else could have him? He couldn't have anyone else? Didn't she want him to be happy?

Or did she want him for herself?

But if it was just a regular dream, just her subconscious working out the issues she wouldn't deal with consciously, why had she been so sure he was in danger?

And so what if he wasn't here. He was a vampire, this was like the middle of the day for him. He'd mentioned that he'd been patrolling, fighting evil. This was prime slaying time, as people began to straggle out of bars, and vampires began picking them off.

As all these questions swam through her brain, one kept surfacing again and again; was she in love with Spike?

She kept standing there, one hand hovering over the doorknob, lost in her thoughts. Seconds, then minutes passed. Finally she stopped. This was getting her no where. She was being silly. It was just a dream. That was it.

She turned to leave and started up the stairs, just as the door opened and Spike appeared.

For a moment he froze, seeing her standing there. Then he continued down the stairs.

"What are you doing here?"

"I um, I was worried about you."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you Florence, but I'm just fine. I'm a big boy, can take care of myself."

He was only a couple of steps above her on the stairs now. She was about to apologize when it hit her, the smell of perfume. She could see something on his neck. Lipstick? It certainly wasn't blood. And his hair was standing up instead of lying slicked back as it normally was. As it had been earlier in the day.

She tried to think of something to say. The fact that she had come to warn him about a woman he might sleep with was completely forgotten, as a jealous rage filled her at the thought of a woman he did sleep with.

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he took a step back involuntarily, recognizing the look from the days when she used to use him as her favorite punching bag.

"Here I come to save you. DRIVING across town, and you're off getting laid?!"

"Hey, don't see how it's any business of yours." he said defensively, trying to convince himself as much as her.

"Yeah . . . well . . . you're just . . .a slut." she shoved him out of her way and down towards his door as she began to stamp up the stairs.

"That's right, run off, tail between your little slayer legs."

She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and she wasn't going to reply. Behind her, she could here the door opening and slamming shut. She paused, not wanting him to get the last words in when he was clearly in the wrong, when she heard a loud crash behind her.

She spun on her heels, leapt down the stairs, through the door, her stake once again raised. Inside she found Spike his forehead resting against the wall, his fist still embedded in the crater he'd made punching that self same wall.

"Spike?"

"Get the fuck out!" his voice was ragged, as if he were crying.

"Spike what is it? What's wrong? Oh, god I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . . I shouldn't have. . ."

She crossed over to him, and reached out to comfort him, but he pulled away, then he shoved her.

"I said GET OUT! What part of that don't you understand Slayer?"

"Obviously the part where I've ever done anything you've asked me to," she said trying to lighten the mood as she reached for him again.

This time when he tried to fend her off she grabbed his wrists and pulled him in close. He struggled against her but she held him tight. Finally he gave up and she put her arms around him and held him as he cried.

His arms were around her, squeezing her very tightly, and once he had given in, the sobs came uncontrollably. His whole body shook and he couldn't seem to hold her tight enough.

She didn't know how long they stood like that. Her whispering comforting things and him crying. But finally the sobs subsided and he pulled back.

"Fine. Good. That's done now. You can go." he tried to sound commanding, but his voice was still broken and he wouldn't look her in the eye.

"Spike I'm really sorry. It's really none of my business, where you go, what you do."

"Yeah, well it isn't. But that's not the point. What do you think you're the center of my bleeding world? Ever occur to that the water works had nothing to do with you? So you can just shove off now, y' hear?"

"Well if it had nothing to do with me I'm defiantly not leaving. Aren't I your friend? You know you can tell me anything. . . Don't you?"

He sank down against the wall. She sat next to him, taking the hand he'd punched the wall with into hers.

"Okay so I lied. It is you. At least in part. I'm just. . . I'm lonely okay?"

"Not too lonely apparently," she said under her breath. At the hurt look in his eye she quickly back peddled, "Sorry, didn't mean that. Go on."

"Go on? That's all there is, isn't there? Just going on and on. You know, things would have been a lot easier if I really had died in Sunnydale. Nice dramatic exit. Fighting the good fight and all."

"Better for who? You do KNOW that Dawn and I missed you?" she looked into his eyes, searching there for her answers, but all she saw was the familiar doubt. The look he gave her that said, 'You don't REALLY care, you never REALLY cared.'

It was more than she could stand. That even now after everything that had happened he could doubt that he was important to her. Before she could form another coherent thought she was kissing him.

He was taken by surprise, so her tongue easily made it's way down his throat. Surprised or no, his reflexes were as sharp as ever, and it only took a moment for him to respond. To return the kiss, and to pull her onto his lap.

The kiss grew more and more passionate, and Buffy found herself rubbing up and down against him. Eagerly pressing herself against the erection she had missed earlier in the day.

Her hands roamed down his chest, till they reached his jeans. Then she pulled his shirt upward in a violent motion that forced their lips apart for a second.

He growled, as their lips met each other again and he rolled her onto her back. His hands reached under her tank top to find her breasts. She hadn't put on a bra when she had woken up so her nipples were there, accessible and waiting for his hand to claim.

He squeezed her nipple and her hips surged up while her legs tightened about his waist. She reached into the tight space between them, to undo his fly, and let loose his hard member. Just as she undid the zipper and put her hand around his cock, she broke off their kiss to bite his neck, remembering how that used to set him off.

But as her lips neared his neck she saw the lipstick marks again.

One moment Spike was in complete bliss. The Slayer's small hand encircling his cock, squeezing him, rubbing him. His own hand filled with her soft breast. The next he had been thrown back, by a kick from the slayer, who was scrambling to her feet.

"What?" he started to ask.

"This is disgusting," the minute she said it, she realized how that must sound to him. "Not you, but, yes you. You fuck some other woman, you're still covered with her, and then you expect me to sleep with you?"

"As I remember, I didn't expect anything. I've been trying to get rid of you. You're the one who jumped me. But you always did forget that part didn't you Slayer?" the way he said slayer it was as if it was something dirty. "Nice to know how far we've come along."

He turned his back to her, and zipped himself back up, then headed over to the cabinet. She watched as he pulled out the bottle of whiskey she'd bought for him, and poured it down the sink.

"No thank you. I'm done with you, you . . . fucking tease. ARE YOU STILL HERE?" he started to move toward her, but it didn't matter, she turned, and ran out of the room and up the stairs crying.

As the sound of her footsteps faded. He looked down at the empty bottle in his hand. "Fuck, there ought to be a law against this sort of thing." He licked the neck of the bottle, savoring the few drops that were left of the beautiful liquor he'd just thrown out.

"It's for the best, not like she didn't know, can't take this any more. She's too. . ." he never finished the thought, as he looked out the door, imagining the beautiful girl he'd just thrown out.

Chapter 5: Girl Talk

"Hello?"

"Happy Solstice Willow! Or is it Merry Solstice, I never know."

"Hey Buffy, thanks, but actually the Solstice was a couple of days ago. Not that I don't appreciate the non Xmas greeting. After all, Wicca Jew here. That sounds wrong somehow, or at least east coast."

Buffy laughed, it was good to hear Willow's voice again. She really missed her friend.

"So how's Kennedy?"

"Good."

"Just good? Not sounding too enthused there Will. No trouble in paradise I hope?"

"No trouble, though I don't think I'd call it paradise. More a purgatory, you know, maybe some day we'll get to the paradise parts."

"Purgatory not the symbolism one generally uses for good relationships. I take it Kennedy's not all you hoped?"

"It's not that. I mean, I didn't really hope for anything. It's not like I ever expected her to be Tara or anything. It's just . . . she doesn't really get me. She's so young. Not that I'm old lady Willow. It's just, she's never understood about the magic, not really. She thinks that after the major mojo it took to awaken all the potential Slayers, I should be able to do anything, no fear, no worry. She doesn't get that for all it's potential goodness, there's lots of potential badness. Just waiting around corners, lurking."

"I'm sorry. I hope things work out, of course if they don't, I'm sure you'll find someone else. Speaking of lurking though. . ."

"Ah ha! I knew it. The Willometer told me that you didn't just call cause it was Christmas. Things not working with your dad? Oh. Wait. You said lurking. It's Angel isn't it. Did he do something? Did he say something? Cause if he needs a stern talking to, you just let me know and I'll call him up, and waggle my finger at him."

"It's not Angel, Will." Buffy smiled. She was so glad she'd called her friend. It had been hard to get away from her dad and Dawn to have a private conversation, but she really needed this. She'd been stuck in a wiggins since last night. "It's Spike."

"I know Buff. I know how hard it can be to let someone go, especially someone you loved. Heck you know that too. At least you're willing to admit your grief."

"Um actually Willow, he's not dead, or not big pile of dust, buried under a ton of rock dead. He's here in L.A. And did you say love? Who said anything about love?"

"What he's alive? When, what, why wasn't I told. I thought I was in the loop, how'd I end up un-loopy?"

"I'm sorry Willow, I didn't want to upset anyone. It's not like he was you guys favorite person, err vampire. I only found out myself a month ago. Andrew ran into him when he was here getting Dana, you know the crazy slayer."

"Harumph. Well, I forgive you this time. Especially since you obviously called to fill me in on some dirt, but remember, I'm loop girl. There is no loop without Willow."

"Gotcha. Promise next time someone comes back from the dead you'll be the first person I tell."

"You are forgiven, okay go on. What'd he do? What happened? What was it like seeing him again?"

"It was great at first. Dawn and I went to see him yesterday, we took him gifts, and he. . . oh god Willow, he gave me this locket, it's kind of cheesy, you know sweet sixteenish, but inside there's a picture of my mom. I . . . I"

"Wow, that's wonderful. I know how much it upset you, loosing all your pictures. And hey, 10 points go to Spike in the gift giving category. So what ELSE happened."

"I . . . well . . . Like I said it was really nice, and we left, and it was all very friendly. But then last night I had this dream. He was in it, and this brunette, and they were, you know. But anyway she was carving him up with a knife while they were doing IT. Anyway, I woke up, and I thought at first that it was a slayer dream, even though it came in the middle of this dream of. . . well, anyway, I rushed over to his place, but he wasn't there. So I was about to leave when he shows up, and he's got this cheap skanky perfume on, and there are big lipstick marks on his neck. So I say something to him, and he says something back, and next thing I know he's slammed the door in my face, and I hear this smashing sound, so I go in, and he's been punching the wall (what is it with guys and wall punching anyway?) and he's crying so I comfort him, even though he yells at me to get out, but I don't and then he tells me how lonely he is, and how he wishes he'd died in Sunnydale, and next thing I know I'm kissing him, and then I realize that he's still covered in cheap hooker, and I'm like, ewwww, so I push him away, and we yell again, and he pours out the gift I gave him, and then I left, and what am I going to do Willow?"

"Breathing might be a good place to start. Um, look Buffy, I'm not sure I got everything in there, but you love him, and if you didn't let him know you wanted to get back together, you can't really blame him for sleeping with someone else. You didn't tell him you wanted to get together did you? I might have missed it."

"No. I never said anything like that. And why do you keep saying love?"

"Buffy you're in love with Spike. I don't know how you can't know this. I thought you told me that you told him, before he pulled his Phoenix act. We all know you love him, know you loved him, back in Sunnydale. Why do you think we were all wiggy about him and the trigger. Do you think we wanted you to have to kill another guy you loved?"

"That's ridiculous. I mean, sure I love him, like a friend love him. Like I love you and Xander, love him. But I'm not in love with him. And I certainly wasn't back in Sunnydale. I was too busy stopping the end of the world to fall in love. I just told him that 'cause it seemed the thing to do, what with the big sacrifice and all."

"Uh-huh, yeah sure. Whatever. Look Buffy, even Giles knew you were in love with him. Why do you think he was so determined to keep you to apart?"

"Not following your logic there Will. Mind taking me around that bend?"

"Giles wasn't there when Spike showed back up all soulful, and none of us ever gave him the story. Probably cause we didn't want to go into why Spike left. He just assumed that Spike had been cursed like Angel. He asked me about it post-Sunnydale. 'I admit Willow,'" she said doing her best Giles impersonation, "'That I didn't think it was a good idea that you seemed to be going around cursing vampires with souls, willy-nilly. But I must say, it did work out for us in the end, all though it was a bit of a risk.'"

"Oh god."

"Buffy?"

"Giles was worried that I'd make Spike happy and he'd lose his soul?"

"That's about the long and the short of it."

"Oh god. Willow, that night, when you guys through me out of the house. Spike found me, and he comforted me, and we slept together. I don't mean that, I mean, I do mean that. But he just held me, that's all, and we slept. No sex or anything. Anyway, the point is, he told me the next day, that, that had been the happiest night of his life. Even better than when we had been having sex. I mean, if there had been a curse, he would have lost his soul."

"But Buffy, there was no curse, so happiness, not a bad thing."

"You don't understand Will, Angel, he had to sleep. . . err. . . have sex with me to be happy. I mean, how much of it was me as a person Buffy, and how much was just the big O. But Spike, Spike the walking-hard-on-"

"T.M.I.!"

"Oh, sorry. Uh anyway, Spike, was happy just being with me. Even if I wasn't WITH HIM with him. Even if it was only as friends. I. . . god I hate it when I think about that. I mean he got his soul for me. No other vampire has ever done that, ever wanted to do that. I . . . how can I be worthy of that kind of love? Why can't I love him back?"

"Eureka, we've found the problem. Look Buffy, no one but you knows for sure how you feel, but my every best-friend instinct is telling me, has been telling me, that you love Spike. You're just scared. Trust me on this Buffy, if anybody is worthy, if anybody deserves to be loved like that, it's you. And you know what? Even if you never loved him, even if you never even liked him, he would go on loving you, so what's there to be scared of. Spike's a sure thing, and (never thought I'd say this) Spike's a good man. So here's what you're going to do. Go to him. Say you're sorry. Tell him you're a big idiot, and that you were just insanely jealous because you love him so much, and trust me, Buffy, it'll all work out."

"I don't know Will. I want to love Spike. Everything in my life would be so easy if I did. But. . ."

"No buts! Now go. If you could see me, you'd see I'm pointing at the door. Trust me Buffy. Talk to him. It'll all work out."

"You really thing so Will?"

"I know so. And I'm Wicca Girl, so you better believe it missy. Oh, and Buffy. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Will, and thanks. Bye."

Chapter 6: Making Up's the Best Part

This was like a bad re-run. There she was standing outside his door again wondering what to say, what to do.

She knew she was going to mess it up again. She knew sharing her feelings was not her strong point.

Not to mention, what if he wasn't there. What if 'she', whomever 'she' was, was there. What would Buffy do then. What if he had a totally new woman there with him. Buffy didn't think she could deal with that. And another jealous rage wouldn't help things.

She started to leave. But then she thought the longer she waited the worse it would be. She came back to his door. But then she was afraid he'd slam the door in her face, wouldn't even talk to her. She started to leave again.

Back and forth, again and again, she kept going in circles, too scared to either knock on his door or leave.

She was back in front of the door again. This time she would do it. This time she would knock.

But before she could, the door flew open of it's own accord and she had to leap back to avoid being whacked in the face with it. There stood a very angry Spike.

"Come in, or go the hell away, just stop bloody tap dancing on my doorstep." He didn't close the door, he didn't even look to see what she would do, he just turned and went back into the apartment.

She went in and closed the door behind her.

"Spike I-"

Before she could continue he spun around again, and was suddenly standing close to her. Too close, almost nose-to-nose. Flames were practically leaping from his eyes.

"I changed my mind. Get the fuck out. I got nothing left to say to you."

He tried to stare her down.

"I'm sorry," it came out as barely a whisper, not because she didn't mean it, but because it was hard to speak up when being stared down like that.

He spun away from her. If he keeps this up, Buffy thought, I'm going to get dizzy.

"Yeah, sure you are," he didn't sound like he believed her, but he sounded a tiny bit less angry. "And what exactly is it you've come to apologize for?"

"For not being more honest," she said.

He laughed at her. "I think you're going to have to be a little more specific than that. I mean, when have you been the slightest bit honest with yourself or anyone else, in your entire bloody life?"

She almost hit him.

"I don't see why I should be honest when you don't believe me even when I tell the truth."

He was in front of her again, starting her down, using his eyes like swords to cut her down.

"Oh? Do tell. When were YOU ever honest with me?"

If he was going to stand this close to her, she figured she'd take advantage of it. She grabbed his hand in hers, mimicking their last gestures on top of the Hellmouth. "I love you." She had meant to say it forcefully, so he wouldn't doubt her. But once again his eyes seemed to steal her voice away.

That caught him by surprise.

Seeing that she actually had a chance to speak before he started yelling again, Buffy continued, "I love you. And I want to try and make it work. And I'm sorry about last night, but I was jealous okay? I was mad at you for being with someone else when you're supposed to be mine. And I don't even know if you want me anymore."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I want. . ." he looked at her again, and took her head in one of his hands, weaving his fingers through her hair. "I want you. Always. I love you Buffy, you know that."

His other hand strayed to her waist.

"So kiss me," she said.

He pulled her close and their lips touched, pulled away, and touched again.

One of her hands was on his chest and she began running it up and down feeling the tight muscles through the soft cotton.

The kissing stopped and he rested his forehead against hers, inhaling deeply. Breathing her in.

"Buffy," he said reverently. Then the hand on her waist moved around her, under her butt to lift her up off the ground while his other hand steadied her back. In two quick steps they were across the room and she was lying on his bed, with him standing over her.

She was wearing a red satin blouse and a black velvet skirt she had picked out for christmas. She propped herself up on one arm, looked him straight in the eye, and began to slowly unbutton her blouse.

He watched with hungry eyes and licked his lips.

She reached the last button, but before she could take off the shirt, Spike was on the bed next to her. He began kissing her neck as his hands reached for her shoulders and slipped the blouse off of her. Next he hooked his fingers under the straps of her red lace bra, just above her breasts, and ran his knuckles along her skin up to her shoulders. Then he slipped the straps down, and deftly undid the clasp in back.

As soon as her breasts where free he attacked them. His mouth went instantly to suck one nipple as his hand played with the other.

Buffy let out a sigh, and leaned back. Closing her eyes to block out everything but the feel of his tongue and fingers as he worshiped her breasts.

Opening her eyes, she began to run her fingers through his hair. She loved the feel of his hair. It was so silky and soft. She loved how it curled naturally, and it annoyed her that he always tried to slick it back.

As much as she loved the attention he was lavishing on her breasts, she couldn't help but greedily wish he'd move farther down. As if he'd read her mind, he lifted his head to look at her and flash her a devilish smile.

She heard two thuds as her shoes flew across the room. He ran his hands up the outside of her thighs, hooked his fingers into the waistband of her nylons and panties, and divested her of both in one smooth movement.

He took her right foot and kissed the inside of the arch. She squirmed remembering the massage he'd given her the other day. He left a trail of kisses up the inside of her leg, moving from her ankle all the way to the inside of her knee. Then he dropped the right foot, and did the same to the left.

It was driving her crazy. Why wouldn't he just get on with it?

"Spike?" came her plea.

He smiled, "What is it, pet. Something I can do for you?" His voice was pure silken innuendo. It made her shiver.

"Yes."

"Yes what, luv? What is it you want?"

"Devour me."

He chuckled, "Still giving orders, pet?"

"Please," she begged.

He growled in triumph before pressing his face into the dampness between her legs.

Buffy threw back her head in ecstasy as his cool tongue began to explore her. He traced her outer lips with his tongue, causing her to moan. Then he placed a finger inside of her and started to pump her. He paused after a moment, removed his finger and looked her in the eye as he sucked her juices off of it.

Then he began in earnest. His finger was back insider her followed by it's neighbor. His head was back between her legs and at last he began to tease her clit. He flicked the tip of his tongue at it, then licked it, then sucked it. Always shifting his actions at the right moment.

She could feel the passion building deep in her womb. Her legs were quivering and to steady them she dug her heels into his back. She used her hands to try and pull his face even closer to her center and her hips began to rise and fall as she tried to urge him on.

Somewhere she could here someone screaming. Then she realized it was her, "Oh god, Spike, Yes, More, Spike, God, Please, Yes," in an endless litany.

It was too much, it was unbearable. She was completely out of control. There was nothing to do but surrender to it.

Her body jerked violently as wave after wave of pleasure hit her. She crushed him to her, holding him in place as the orgasm washed over her.

Finally she let him go.

She watched contentedly as his tongue snaked out to lick her juices off his chin. Next he sucked his fingers one by one, looking directly at her still quaking body all the time.

"Hey, that's not right," Buffy suddenly said, indignant.

"What's that pet?" he asked, obviously puzzled since he was sure he'd done everything just right.

"You've still got ALL your cloths on." Before he could move a muscle, she pounced, flying off the bed to hit him square in the chest and to send them both crashing to the floor.

She grabbed at his shirt before he could figure out what she was doing and lifted it straight up, almost completely off of him. She stopped though just before the cotton passed his wrists and twisted the fabric, bringing his hands together, and forming an improvised restraint. She then tied the twisted t-shirt around the leg of the couch.

It was a very flimsy holding device for a vampire she knew, but the excited look in his eyes told her that Spike would play along with her little game.

She was straddling him now just above the waist, her pussy dripping onto his now bare abs. She reached up to his wrists and traced his tight muscles all the way down his arms to his chest. She leaned forward, dragging her nipples up along his chest until her mouth could reach his. With a wicked grin she bit one.

HIs whole body jerked under her and she could hear the couch scrape along the floor as he cried "Buffy!"

She laughed mischievously, and flicked her hair behind her head. Then she began to drag her her pussy down his body. She lifted herself up off of him when she would have been over the bulge in his jeans, holding herself up out of reach as he tried to trust up to meet her.

She made a clicks sound like she was scolding a child, "None of that now."

Looking him in the eye as he whimpered, she reached down and began to divest him of his jeans. She watched in delight as his cock sprang forward eagerly, straining to touch any part of her.

She had other plans though. She began to kiss his soft inner thighs. Then she licked them. Then she began to nip. He wriggled under her, hoping against hope to direct her mouth toward his cock. Finally he gave in.

"Please Buffy. God please suck my dick."

"Well . . ." she said as if it was a proposition that required serious thought. "Since you asked nicely. . ." She licked her lips.

Her mouth was on him then. She eagerly sucked as much of his length as she could into his mouth. She was done teasing him. Her mouth slid back up, until only the head of his cock was in her mouth. She sucked even harder, which pulled a long moan out of him.

Finally she put her hand around the base of his cock and started pumping him in earnest. As her mouth slid up and down along his length she alternated sucking and swirling her tongue around his member. Her other hand reached lower to find and cup his balls.

"Fuck. Yes. Buffy. God. Buffy. Please. Yes." He went on and on, "I can't. . . It's too. . . Now. I'm going to cum. Now. . . Buffy. Can't wait." But she didn't stop or even slow down her work. She wanted this. Wanted to taste him the way her always tasted her.

"GOD." There was a crashing sound as the force of Spikes orgasm caused him to flip the couch he was tied to, causing it to crash into the television and the wall. As the leg of the couch swept up into the air, the t-shirt slipped off of it, releasing his hands.

He lay there for a moment unaware of his surroundings. Then he realized he was free. He smiled at Buffy, who screeched, realizing she didn't have the time to recover she thought she would. She leapt to her feet, but he had his arms around her in a second. It was payback time.

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