Strip Snap
by Lilachigh

Chapter One: One Question

Season Six - Buffy’s 21st birthday in Older and Far Away. During the long evening, we see Buffy and Spike sitting together on the floor behind the sofa playing cards - I think this is what was being said!



‘Bloody hell, Slayer, you can’t take off just one ear-ring! That‘s cheating.’

‘Oh, so taking one bootlace out of one boot, isn’t?’

‘It’s strip snap. Whoever looses takes off one thing they’re wearing. I offered to take off my pants just now, remember?’

Buffy glared and hastily looked round to make sure no one else had heard, but they all seemed busily occupied, as they had done for hours now.

‘Be quiet! Someone will hear.’

Spike cynically raised an eyebrow and shuffled the pack. ‘Oh and we mustn’t let anyone know about us, must we? Can’t offend their dainty sense of morality. I suppose you stripping naked in front of me won’t get their attention?’

‘Huh! I won’t be stripping. I can beat you at anything, Spike. Including cards. Just because I don’t know how to play poker doesn’t mean - ’

‘You’re going to beat me, are you?’ He reached up to tentatively touch the bruising round his eye. ‘Reckon you’ve already done that, pet.’

Buffy flinched. She didn’t want to remember punching him almost senseless the other night. ‘I meant I intend to win. Deal the cards.’

She watched, fascinated as his long fingers shuffled and cut the pack, then dealt them out swiftly on the floor between them. There was something about his hands - god, it was getting warm in here - whenever she caught sight of them, she could recall how he used them on her body - and inside your body, too, a little voice whispered hotly and she felt a flood of fluid between her thighs.

He looked up sharply, nostrils flaring and she knew he’d smelt her arousal. His lips twitched slightly, then he looked alarmed and uncomfortable and she giggled as she watched his erection swelling under the denim of his jeans. That must really hurt, she though proudly. Good!

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather play with Dickhead over there,’ he drawled.

‘His name is Richard,’ Buffy hissed, picking up her cards. ‘You know damn well it is.’

‘Buffy swore! Buffy swore!’ he teased. ‘You have to pay a forfeit. Take off something right now.’

‘That’s not part of the game!’ she grumbled, but at the triumphant look on his face, she grudgingly took out the second ear-ring and giggled at his cross expression.

‘OK, strip snap isn’t going to work - at least not here where it‘s so public,’ Spike said regretfully. ‘Come round to the crypt tomorrow night and we’ll play it properly.’

Buffy concentrated on the cards she was holding. She refused to meet his sapphire blue gaze because she knew she would dissolve into a messy puddle if she did.

‘Oh, I don’t know, Spike. I might be busy,’ she said airily, wishing her voice didn’t sound so squeaky.

‘Oh, I promise you will be, Slayer,’ he drawled, reaching out to touch her bare ear lobe. ‘You’re going to be very busy doing just what I tell you to do to me. You’re going to work your socks off. You’re going to - ’

He leant forward and whispered - ‘take my cock in your mouth, run your pretty pink tongue along it, suck it until - ’

‘Let’s play something else!’ she broke in before she surrendered and flung herself on top of him and damn everybody else in the room. It was her party, after all.

His lips twitched as I tried not to smile, then, ‘Okay - whoever wins a snap gets to ask a question.’

Buffy stared at him suspiciously. ‘What sort of question?’

Spike shrugged innocently. ‘Oh, anything at all, Slayer.’

‘And the looser has to answer?’

‘Oh yes. And truthfully.’

‘OK.’

The cards slapped down on the floor - then ‘Snap!’ Spike’s hand shot out and covered two aces. ‘Mine. Right - ’ he looked at her tense body, knew she was expecting something really difficult, ‘Are you having a nice birthday?’ he said gently.

He could see her visibly relax. ‘Yes, thank you. It’s been great.’

Ten more cards fell, then ‘Snap! My turn again.. Ummm - Do you enjoy being the Slayer? ’

Buffy looked at him sharply, but his face was bland, his eyes shadowed by the dark lashes that were ridiculously and annoyingly thick for a man.

Did she enjoy being the Slayer? Faith had enjoyed being one. So had Kendra.
‘I enjoy...I enjoy helping people,’ she replied slowly. ‘I think....I think I like the power, but all the rest of it, the killing, the dying!, never having a nice, normal life like other girls my age - not so much!’

She picked up the cards and let them run through her fingers. ‘I’m twenty-one today, Spike. Let’s face it, the likelihood of me seeing thirty-one is remote. I want to stay around long enough to see Dawn become independent, but everything else - ’

She shrugged and glanced round. Time seemed to have stood still this evening. She hadn’t meant to speak so freely to Spike. He had that effect on her sometimes. He was looking at her now, and she had the feeling he could read her mind.

Twenty-one. In all the fuss, Buffy hadn’t really thought about the figures. Some girls of her age were married and mothers by now. Married! That was a joke. And as for motherhood - well, she’d long ago realised that wasn’t on any agenda she could think up.

She found herself returning Spike’s gaze and for a minute, she could see in her imagination a little boy with bright blue eyes laughing up at her and a little girl with long blonde hair and dark eyebrows.

But they were only in her imagination and she knew that’s where they would stay.

‘Play again,’ she said, breaking the spell. The next two cards laid were a snap. Hers. What on earth could she ask him? Then, without thinking, she heard herself say, ‘ Do you ever regret being a vampire?’

Spike’s hands stilled on the cards he was holding. ‘Difficult one, luv.’

‘You said anything. If it’s too hard for you, of course.....’

‘William was a nice enough bloke, but weak. Always trying to help people who didn’t want to be helped, getting pushed around by friends and family, always falling for the wrong girls.’

He paused and Buffy was about to say, ‘Nothing much has changed then!’ but something - the look in his eyes, perhaps, the tension around his mouth, stopped her.

‘William would probably have married some sweet, ineffectual, plain young lady, who was about to be left on the shelf and desperate to have a husband, any husband. She wouldn’t have understood him, but he would have loved her because she was his wife. They’d have had little money, lived in gentile poverty and raised a brood of children, one after the other, and most of them would have died before their second birthdays.’

Buffy put down her cards and, without thinking, reached out to take his hand. ‘But they would have been happy, wouldn’t they? They’d have enjoyed raising the children left to them.’

Spike looked at her strangely. ‘Happy? Well, pet, who knows.’ He paused again. He realised that he spoke about William as if he was someone he’d once known, not himself.

But William had been him and for a few seconds he wondered what a son of his would have been like, what it would have felt like to hold a daughter in his arms and know that his blood would run through their children’s veins for centuries to come.

He shook his head to break the mood. ‘Dru rescued me from all that. She gave me eternity, love, passion and, even though I hate to say it in present company, she gave me another family.’

‘Angel and Darla,’ Buffy whispered.

‘The Mick and his lady love, that’s right, Goldilocks. Never liked him, but as people say, you can choose your friends, not your family! So, to answer your question, no, I’ve no regrets. I’ve seen things, done things, met people, lived life to the full and regret nothing. I can’t say I’m too happy with the chip in my bonce, and I may be only a stake away from dust, but - ’

‘If you had a soul you’d regret.....’ Buffy started to say.

Spike laughed. ‘A soul? Bloody hell, Slayer, give us a break, I’ve seen what a soul has done to Peaches. So have you! What on earth would I want one of those for?’

And Buffy laughed. She didn’t know what had made her think about that. Spike with a soul. Big joke.

But as he dealt another hand of cards and she glanced affectionatly round the room at her family and friends, and wondered exactly what they’d be all be doing the following year.

Xander and Anya would be married, hopefully Willow and Tara would have resolved their problems and be back together, Dawn would be a year older - and more sensible.

And Spike - she glanced at the vampire and knew that soon she was going to have to sort out her feelings for him - one way or the other.

ends

 

Chpt 2 Promises to Keep



OK, I know this was meant to be a one-off story, but several people have asked for a sequel, so here it is. Very Spuffy!



Two days after her twenty-first birthday, Buffy collapsed wearily onto her bed and threw her greasy smelling orange uniform as far across the room as she could. She needed a shower; the desire to wash her hair was overwhelming, but the effort required to get into the bathroom seemed impossible to find.

She looked at her thin tanned legs and wondered if her ankles were swelling from standing on them for such ages. She needed to paint her toenails, she realised vaguely. There hadn’t been time for pedicures recently. As long as she was clean, that was all that mattered.

She could remember a time when she’d spent hours in the bathroom with soaps and lotions. Once she and Willow had painted every nail they had a different colour. But not now.

The night shift at the Doublemeat Burger Bar had been very long and very busy. Her face ached from the false smile that had been stretched across it for hours. And why were people so rude? Why did they come into a burger bar and stand for ages just gazing at all the little pictures above the counter as if they’d never seen a burger before? So many of them were regulars, she always knew what they would finally have, but still they stood and looked. And you always had to smile and be pleasant when in reality she had a mad desire to pour the boiling fat over their silly heads.

She still had to patrol this evening, so perhaps she’d do that and shower when she got back. ‘I’ll be all hot and sweaty again,’ she thought and firmly pushed away thoughts of how she might be even hotter and sweatier if she went to see Spike at his crypt.

Even though it was only Spike - and hey, evil, dirty thing remember - she felt too grubby and smelly to let even him touch her tonight. But, oh god, how she wanted him to. Even under the tired, aching muscles and bone weariness, she could feel a hot quivering glow of anticipation as her body - against her will - remembered just what he did to it.

“No! Just patrolling. Then shower and bed,” she muttered and pulled open her closet door to find some clean jeans.

“What in the name of - ?” Right in front of her eyes was something on a hanger, wrapped in polythene. There was a large piece of paper pinned to the front of it. WEAR THIS. BE OUTSIDE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES. HURRY!

Buffy tore off the wrapping and gasped. The dress floated. A tight white lace bodice had sapphire velvet ribbons criss-crossing, pulling the neckline into some form of modesty. There were little white feathers all around the edge of the neckline and sleeves. The skirt was layers of white lace and silk. It looked old and was probably the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

She reached out to touch it with gentle fingers. She didn’t need to guess who the note was from and she had no doubt, whatsoever, that if she put it on it would fit her. Spike had spent hours running his hands over her body. He knew every curve, every inch of her, intimately.

“I’m too dirty,” she whispered to herself. “I’ll ruin it.” But even as she spoke she was heading for the shower.

Ten minutes later, her hair still wet but at least clean, she had pulled on the dress and stood gazing at herself in the mirror. She didn’t recognise the woman who looked back her her; big green eyes in a pale face, hair piled up in tangles on top of her head, her breasts pushed up by the bodice into creamy mounds as she tightened the blue ribbons and the little white feathers tickled her skin in a sudden breeze -

“You look ravishing, sweetheart! Makes me want to ravish you!”

She didn’t move. She was still the only person she could see in the mirror, but knew from the feel of his breath on her bare neck, that he was standing behind her.

“It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen!” she whispered. She turned round into his arms, and gasped as he bent his head and dropped a line of tiny kisses along her collar bone.

“Not as beautiful as the person wearing it,” he murmured and pulled her damp hair down into a cascade of blonde tangles. “You didn’t come down to me,” he said, brushing stray strands back from her cheek. “I told you to hurry.”

‘I had to shower. I was all Doublemeaty. And where are we going, Spike? I can’t possibly patrol in this dress.”

“I’ve already done a patrol for you tonight. Three demons, done and dusted, luv. Must admit I didn’t hunt too closely for vamps. Thought I’d leave that for you tomorrow. Tonight - well, tonight is just for us. Come on!”

“Spike - I’ve got no shoes!”

“Don’t need shoes where we’re going!” And before she could protest, he swung her up in his arms and carried her out of the window and swung down the tree branches to the ground.

The grass felt cool under her bare feet as Spike put her down, her damp hair deliciously cool on her neck.

There was an old open-topped car in the road. Spike scooped her up again, ignoring her protests and dropped her in the passenger seat.

Then he was by her side, the engine was roaring and they were away into the moonlit night.

“Spike, what are we doing. It’s so late.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and reached over to run a finger across her bare shoulder. She shuddered under his touch.

“You said at your birthday party that you missed being a normal girl. I didn’t bring you a gift then, so this is my present to you, sweetheart. A normal evening, doing normal things. No worries, no responsibilities, no problems. Just you and me.”

“Spike! Are you taking me on a date?”

He laughed. “Bloody well call it what you like, Slayer. Just enjoy it.”

She lay back on the warm leather seat and, for the first time since her mother had died, felt herself relaxing, the weariness draining out of her bones, every muscle becoming pliant and soft, the tension vanishing. For once she didn’t have to make a decision, be in command. Someone else was in charge. No one was expecting her to be the leader. Tonight no one knew where she was or what she was doing. it was a heady experience - like drinking ice cold champagne on an empty stomach.

This evening was so unexpected, so ridiculous, it was hard not to laugh. The rush of air in her face, the growling of the engine, the feel of Spike next to her, knowing she could reach out and touch him if she wanted.

Why did his presence reassure her so much? What was it about this vampire that made her world glow when he was in it?

She didn’t love him. She refused to believe she could love somebody without a soul. But this - connection - they had, confused and bewildered her. The sex was fabulous; she wasn’t naive enough to deny that, but she also knew it was more than lust, more than passion. But what was it? He’d once told her she would crave him, that he was in her blood and now, she realised, he was right.

Twenty miles on and they were pulling off the road and bumping up a dirt track, through some open metal gates, and on into thick, dark woodland, the headlights catching the green gleam from the eyes of small animals crouching in the undergrowth.

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep,” she heard Spike quote to himself under his breath. “And miles to go before I sleep.”

She turned to gaze into his face. He often quoted poetry, she realised. He’d done it for a long time, especially when he and Giles were together. She’d never thought about his education before. It was odd to wonder about a William at school as a small boy, perhaps graduating from some posh English college before he met Drusilla on the streets of London one dark night.

At least she knew the poem he was quoting now, “Robert Frost,” she murmured.

“A great American poet, luv.”

Then they were out of the woods and Buffy realised they were driving along a sandy shore by the side of a lake.

“Where are we, Spike? I had no idea there was any lake near Sunnydale.”

“That’s because you can’t see it from the road. It’s on private property. Belongs to some movie star.”

“What!’ Buffy sat upright in shock. “ Then we’re trespassing. Spike, turn round and get us out of here.”

“Relax, Slayer. No one is going to know,” he replied calmly as he stopped the car and turned off the headlights.

The darkness swallowed them up, then her eyes began to adjust as the moon sailed out from behind a small cloud and she gasped.

The lake lay blackly in front of her with a silver path of moonlight stretching clearly to the other side. The water rippled slightly in the soft breeze and it was as if a sheet of starlight was being shaken over the wavelets.

Before she could speak, Spike had swung her up into his arms. As her head fell against his shoulder, he bent to kiss her. She twisted her fingers up into the platinum curls, tugging on them to get his mouth even closer to hers, making little meowing noises at the back of her throat, desperate for the contact to continue.

His tongue ran softly over hers, tangling, teasing, promising much, then leaving her gasping for more.

“Later, princess,” he growled. “Be patient! I promise, you’re going to have an evening you’re never, ever going to forget.”

And he carried her down to the shore line. There was a small rowing boat pulled up onto the shingle. Spike laid her down on some cushions in the stern and jumping in, began to row them slowly but steadily down the path of moonlight towards the far shore.

to be continued


 

Chp 3 A Normal Girl


Drops of water cascaded like silver rain from the tips of the oars as Spike rowed them out across the moonlit lake. Buffy lay back on a pile of cushions in the stern of the boat, trailing her hand in the water.

‘Where did you learn to row?” she murmured, watching in lazy delight the pull of the muscles in his arms and shoulders under his black tee shirt.

Spike smiled at her, his teeth a white gleam in the darkness. “Oh you learn all sorts of things when you’ve been around as long as I have, pet. But rowing - well, I learnt how to punt when I was a student at Cambridge - at the university. But that’s far harder than it looks! If you’re not clever you can end up clinging to the bloody pole in the middle of the river while your lady love floats away down stream in the bloody boat! So I stuck to rowing!”

Buffy giggled. She liked the way Spike could make jokes about himself. Angel had never mentioned the man he’d been before he became a vampire. She knew he’d been called Liam and lived in Ireland, but little else.

Buffy stretched out her legs, watching the white feathers on the hem of her dress flicker in the breeze. Her bare feet reached Spike’s legs. She realised he’d kicked off his boots when he got in the boat and she rubbed her toes against his as they pushed against the wooden slats.

“Minx!” Spike growled. “If I catch a crab with the oars, you can swim for the shore, missy.”

Buffy tossed her head. “Don’t tell me that a few little toes can put you off your stroke?”

Spike hissed and she watched in glee as the material round his groin suddenly stretched under extreme pressure. “You’ve never complained about my stroke before,” he said, shifting uncomfortably on the wooden seat.

“Well, they say practice makes perfect!” Buffy said, wondering where on earth flirty Buffy had come from. What was it about Spike that made her so relaxed? Why didn’t it matter what she said to him?

She realised that she never had to think before she spoke. When she’d been with Riley, she’d always sort of edited her words before they left her mouth, worried that she might upset him in some way, behave in some way that would offend or bother him. With Spike she could say or do what she liked.

But was that how normal girls behaved? Buffy bit her lip. She wasn’t a normal girl, but she wanted to be. She dreamt of a normal life, even though she knew she’d never have one.

Surely normal girls tried to be as nice as they could be for their boyfriends. Being the Slayer shouldn’t give her any right to be a flirt or a bitch. If anything, she should surely make more of an effort to be normal?

But with Spike - things were complicated, different. And tonight - she took a deep breath and relaxed - she wouldn’t worry about it. Tonight was Spike’s idea of normal, carved out of a dream, a fantasy and she was going to enjoy it - whatever happened.

As he rowed, Spike watched the emotions chasing each other across her face. He knew her so well, guessed what was going on in her busy mind.

He loved the way she fought with herself. The flirting, the giggling, all so natural to his Slayer, then the worry that she shouldn’t do any of that, then the slight shrug of her shoulders, the way her creamy breasts heaved as she took a deep breath and decided that she would do what she wanted, for tonight, anyway.

Spike frowned. He’d wanted this evening to be normal for her, but in his heart of hearts he knew it wasn’t. How would he know how to give a girl a normal evening? He’d been around for too many years, seen too much, done too much. He was a vampire without a soul and the girl he loved was the Slayer. So not much normal there, he thought dryly.

He dug the oars in savagely and the little boat jerked forward through the water, shattering the golden ribbon of moonlight that lay across the black water.

“Where are we going?” Buffy asked at last, dreamily gazing out into the darkness.

“Late supper,” Spike replied, his bad mood instantly vanishing at the sight of her relaxed face.

“Spike, even you can’t conjure up a restaurant in the middle of a lake.”

The vampire glanced over his shoulder, pulled hard with one oar and swung the boat round a little. Buffy realised that the darkness she’d been looking at was, in fact, the darkness of a thickly wooded island.

There was the softest shimmer of light where the sandy beach edged down to the water. With one more thrust, Spike drove the boat up onto the beach, leapt out and pulled it higher up, out of the wavelets.

He picked Buffy up and carried her in his arms through the sand and up into the shelter of the tree line. When he put her down she could feel soft grass cool under her feet. She shivered slightly in the night breeze and heard leaves rustling around her.

“Stay still, Slayer,” Spike whispered and left her standing in the dark.

For a second she stood swaying until her eyes got used to the black and she began to see vague images. Then there was the flick of a lighter and there was Spike, sprawled in front of her on a rug, lighting two squat blood red candles in deep bronze dishes. The flames leapt up, casting flickering shadows across his face.

Buffy felt something dark and primitive stir within her. She stepped forward and sank down next to him, watching, fascinated as he pulled a wicker picnic hamper out from under a bush behind him.

“We didn’t have champagne at your birthday party, Goldilocks,” he said. “Thought that was a pity. Every girl should have champagne on her 21st birthday.”

“Do I get to drink it out of a silver goblet?” Buffy whispered as he twisted the foil top with brutally strong fingers and the cork gave way without a fight, the same way she always did when those same fingers pried apart the most private parts of her body, slid in and out, rubbing, petting, goading her over and over again into a shuddering, shaking, screaming.....

Spike grinned at her. “Sorry, pet, plastic tumblers were all I could get at short notice.”

He poured the bubbles out and pressed the cold tumbler into her hand. His sapphire gaze never left her face as he raised his own drink. She’d never seen him with this expression before - so blatantly happy, so intensely passionate. It scared her.

She, the Slayer who was frightened of nothing and no one usually, was frightened that she could cause a man - even a dead one - this sort of pleasure. No man had ever looked at her like this before. With love, perhaps, affection, tenderness. But never this all consuming desire. It didn’t make sense. She was the girl men left, not the girl who caused this blizzard of violent feelings.

“A toast, sweetheart. Happy birthday, Buffy Summers. May all your dreams come true.”

She stared back at him, her lips made the shape of Thank You, but no sound came from her mouth. She drank deeply, gasping as the dry bubbles hit the back of her throat.

Oh God, the way he was looking at her. Why wouldn’t he look away? She couldn’t breathe any more. She was going to pant, those dreadful noises were going to come from her throat again, she was as wet between her thighs as if She could feel herself begin to tremble, her hand was shaking.

The champagne slopped over the edge of the tumbler and splashed across her throat. Spike growled and leant forward so fast she didn’t have time to breathe. His tongue licked up the trickle as it slid down between her breasts and Buffy moaned deep inside her head at the sensations he was giving her.

He pushed her back onto the rug as one of the candles guttered sharply in a gust of wind and went out.

He pushed her dress slowly up her legs, inch by inch, his tongue following his fingers. The white thong she was wearing stood no chance. The lace broke and was tossed aside. She moaned in anticipation, whining softly when his fingers just played with the curls covering her quim.

She spread her legs wider, inviting him, demanding, begging, insisting - “Spike, please, please, don’t stop, please - Oooooh”

She shrieked as icy cold champagne was poured over her and as her hips rose sharply off the rug, a mouth and tongue dived into the bubbles, licking and sucking and drinking. Her clit was being tickled by fizz and licked into a frenzy by the vampire’s clever tongue.

Then, without warning, his fingers joined in and the internal pressures were building and building and oh god please don’t let him stop, please don’t stop, oh god waves and waves of red hot pleasure that was too much, too much, too much and he sent her screaming her release into the darkness as the last candle was blown out by a gust of wind and above them, lightning flashed and the heavens opened.

to be continued



 

Chp 4 Breaking and Entering


As the rain slashed down, Spike rolled on top of Buffy, sheltering her a little, but within seconds they were both soaked through, her beautiful white dress lying a few yards away, a sodden mass.

She didn’t even notice - all she wanted was him. She tore at his jeans - her hands as strong as his, tearing at the zip until it broke and she could yank them down to where he could kick them off.

Oh god, now she had his body all to herself. She ran her hands over his tight backside, listening to the moans that were coming from her throat being joined by the sounds he was making.

Water cascaded off them but all she wanted, needed, was to have him inside her. She was made to take him. There was a part of her that only he could touch and she had to have it - now!

She ran her fingers down the steel shaft of his erection and howled with delight as he thrust her legs even further apart and plunged himself in.

God he was so big, she’d never take him all in, never, but she would, she could. He reared up above her, pulling out slightly, then ramming home again. His hands were at her breasts now, rubbing her nipples into tight wet pink buds.

Lightning cracked in the darkness and for a second she could see his face - eyes bright and feverish, tongue licking his lips, then he was moving again and she linked her ankles together behind his back and heard him grunt as he sank even deeper inside her where it was hot and silky and wet, wet, oh god, the rain was slicking off them but the fluids coming from her were hot, boiling.

‘What - do - you - want - me - to - do - Slayer!’ he pounded out with each thrust.

‘Fuck - me - harder! Harder. Oh god, make me come! Please. I need, I need, ” the breath left her as his pace quickened and he changed his angle slightly to hit against that place inside her that only he could find.

She was keening now, a high kitten noise that grew and grew as one of his fingers reached down, found her clit and began to finger fuck her into oblivion as his cock destroyed all the barriers she’d ever erected against giving in to love.

She could feel the surge inside him as he grew larger and harder and then everything went black and red as her orgasm hit her, not once but over and over again as her screams sent him wild and he roared into the night as his climax shook his body so hard she found it difficult to hold him.

She was shuddering when she came back to the real world. The rain on her bare skin was so cold. The only warm things she could feel were Spikes’ lips pressed to her breast. Which was ridiculous. How could he feel warmer than her? He was dead.

A terrific crash of thunder made her jump and Spike shook his head like a dog, drops of water flying in all directions.

His eyes focussed with difficulty and he glanced down at her. ‘You’re freezing, pet,” he said with concern and with a swift movement he was on his feet and pulling her naked form up with him.

‘Got to get you indoors and warm.”

‘W..w..here. H...h..how?”

Spike grabbed his duster from where it was lying in the mud and wrapped it round her. Then he picked her up, strode across the grass and pushed through the heavy undergrowth.

‘W...w...where we going?” Buffy gasped.

“Indoors!”

“Spike - I can walk. You don’t have to carry me!” she protested, struggling to get down.

“Slayer, you might not have noticed, but neither of us have much on in the way of clothes! The thorns in these bloody bushes will cut you to shreds. Be grateful my skin is thicker than yours! And stop wriggling or else....”

‘Or else what?”

He looked down at her briefly and grinned. He had water dripping from his hair but his smile was as wicked as ever. ‘You, Slayer, are turning into a right flirt tonight. If that’s what one glass of champagne does for you, remind me to give you more!”

She lay back in his arms, the duster keeping off most of the rain as he half ran through the undergrowth. It was pitch black, except for the streaks of lightning and she knew she wouldn’t have been able to see more than half a yard in front of her.

Then, suddenly, they were out of the wind, under a shelter of some kind. In the next lightning bolt, Buffy saw the gleam of a swimming pool and a small timber framed building. Spike let her slide from his arms and she huddled inside his coat, shivering.

“We need to get inside,” Spike said. “You’re freezing.”

“How? It’s all locked up and - ”’

The tinkle of breaking glass answered her as Spike used a rock to smash one of the little window panes in the door, reached in, swearing as the sharp edge cut his arm and unbolted the door.

“You’ve done that before,” Buffy muttered, but all her thoughts of taking the moral high ground and refusing to go inside vanished as the thunder peeled overhead and another shaft of lightning cracked down nearby.

She fled through the door and tried the light switch, but there was no power. Spike’s slim pale shape brushed past her and she began to giggle.

‘You’re really not dressed for breaking and entering! And we’re dripping all over their nice polished wood floor.”

Spike muttered something very rude under his breath and threw open a closet. “Here - Miss Flirty - put this on and dry your hair. I’m not going to be the one to face the Little Bit if you go down with pneumonia!”

He flung a thick towelling robe at her and she slid out of his duster and into the soft enveloping folds with a groan of relief. There were towels, too, to rub her hair and by the time she was half way dry, Spike had lit the fire already laid in the grate.

In the light of the flames, Buffy glanced round the little room. ‘What is this place?”

‘Reckon it’s a sort of cabin cum pool room, sweetheart. Film star who owns this place likes to party when he’s here. But that isn’t very often. The big house is all shut up. I checked that out when I was having a look at the lake earlier.”

Buffy curled up on the rug in front of the fire. She was drier now and warmer. Her muscles still jellyfied from what Spike had been doing to her when the storm broke. Her memories warmed her even further and she felt her cheeks flame.

Why was she acting like this? Nice normal girls didn’t have mad passionate sex in the pouring rain. They didn’t roll stark naked around in the grass and scream as their vampire lover fucked them stupid.

She tried to remember sleeping with Riley. It was difficult, like trying to recall a dream when you’re just waking from a deep sleep. Even when magic had been around, their love making had been - well, luke warm compared to what she’d just done with Spike.

But that, surely, was normal. Riley was a normal guy. He knew how a nice girl should act. He hadn’t seemed disappointed by her performance.

Buffy found herself trying not to laugh. She was imagining Riley’s face if she’d done to him what she’d just down to Spike.

Was she very bad? Had she come back from the dead with her moral and physical compass wrong?

She tried to picture herself explaining to Willow what she did with Spike, how he made her feel and couldn’t. Okay, Willow and Tara - no, she wouldn’t even let herself imagine what they did. Xander and Anya, euhhh, no. But whatever it was, she was sure they had boundaries, limits they didn’t exceed.

She no longer knew what her limits were. And, she faced the answer with an honesty that surprised her, with Spike she didn’t think she had any limits.

She yawned. It was no good. There was no solution to be found tonight. She could quite happily have gone to sleep, but that was not possible, of course. They would have to leave as soon as the storm passed, find their clothes and get back across the lake to their car.

Spike had found a short, midnight blue robe. His hair had dried in a riot of tiny curls and Buffy watched as he fed the fire with little sticks, as gravely intent as a small boy.
That was one of the other things she lov - liked so much about Spike. He wasn’t always talking.

He didn’t brood like Mr Dark and Broody, but he could let her be, let her think, without always having to chat.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you you shouldn’t play with fire?” she asked.

Spike shot her a quick grin. “Many times, pet. But then, I’ve always been bad, always liked to take chances.”

“I don’t believe you were bad at all when you were young,” she said and he looked up, startled.

“What put that ridiculous idea into your bonce?”

“Oh, things you’ve mentioned over the years.”

He shook his head, frowning. “Don’t go getting wrong notions about me, Slayer. I’ve done too many things you wouldn’t want to hear about and if you did, well, maybe you wouldn’t be too happy about being here with me tonight.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t bad now - although, hey chip! - but when you were my age. ”

Spike stared at the fire. William at twenty-one. He could picture him so clearly, even still remember the unquenchable desire to feel, to love, to experience - something different! Was it possible that he could explain to Buffy who he’d been, the man he’d been before that night Drusilla had decided to make herself a kill mate? Would she understand? Was it worth taking the chance?

The fire blazed up and the flames were reflected in Spike’s eyes. Buffy watched. He seemed about to speak, his gaze wasn’t on her now, but a long way and time away. She waited.

There was a steady hissing as some rain came down the chimney and died on the burning logs. Spike suddenly sniffed and his gaze came jolting back to the present. A deep growl broke from his lips. For a second he went into game face, then forced it away. ‘Blood, Slayer! I can smell blood.”

Buffy wiggled her foot at him. “It’s mine. I think I cut my toe on some of that glass when we were breaking in.”

‘Stupid bint! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s just a little cut, Spike. It’ll heal. Look!”

Spike took her foot and raised it to his mouth. She leant back on her elbows and watched, fascinated as he tenderly, delicately, licked at the cut She shivered at his cool touch, then went hot as she saw he was gazing straight up her leg to where the robe had fallen open across her thighs.

A log cracked and sparks shot up the chimney. Buffy crawled over the floor into his arms, tasting her own blood on his lips as they possessed hers with the arrogance of a warrior with his mate.

She gasped as his hands pulled at the belt holding her robe together .

“Again?”

“Oh, yes, pet,” he muttered thickly, and tangled his hands deep into the damp blond hair that spilled across her shoulders. ‘We haven’t even begun yet.”

“I thought we were having a normal date,” she whispered, feverishly pushing off his robe to get at his smooth skin with her teeth and nails. Oh god, he was growing again, so big, so hard. Every time she knew she wouldn’t be able to take him in and every time, oh god....

And as his body swooped down on hers she heard him say, “For us, this is normal, luv!”

to be continued






 

Chp.5 Slayer and Souless




A log fell in the fireplace with a crackle and a shower of orange sparks. Buffy came to with a jolt, sitting up, eyes wide, trying to remember where she was.

She ached all over - every limb, every muscle and, she felt herself going red, inside her she was like liquid jelly. She remembered hearing some boys at school talking once when they didn’t know anyone could hear them.

‘Shagged myself silly,” one of them had said.

She hadn’t realised what they meant until now. She gazed round. Spike’s naked form was sprawled out next to her on the floor. He was fast asleep and she wasn’t surprised. She’d lost count of the number of times they’d had sex during the night. But she had a vivid picture in her mind of the last time.

Spike had been on his back, holding her shoulders above his in mid air while his feet kept her legs apart and off the ground while he fucked her. Only his vampire strength could have kept her suspended like that. With nothing touching her body except his hands, feet and cock, every nerve-ending was sensitive. Her climax, when it came, had been mind shattering and had gone on and on and she’d ridden his cock into oblivion.

And he called this behaviour normal?

But now - she rubbed at the bruises on her arms and stood up to look out of the window of the little log cabin. The storm had passed, the sky was clear and there were even a few stars around. But in the east the darkness was already fading to a dark purple. Before too long the sun would be up, and they had to be home by then.

She gazed down at the sleeping vampire, at the muscles of his back, he tight cheeks of his butt. She was tempted to lie down again and indulge another fantasy, but time was passing even as she stood there. Instead she nudged Spike with her bare toe. ‘Hey, wake up. We’ve got to get going.’

“Hey, watch where you’re putting that digit, sweetheart. I’ve been awake for minutes. Vampire hearing, remember?”

He yawned, rolled over and got to his feet. “Ummm, what a night. I’ve got aches in my aches. When you ride a chap, you really ride him, Slayer. You OK, pet?”

Buffy nodded; she didn’t know what to say. Was she OK? She had no idea what that meant any more. Physically she felt relaxed, sated, as feminine as she’d ever felt before in her life. But mentally - she couldn’t untangle the feelings and emotions in her head. She seemed to have no way of putting them into words.

“Bloody hell, I suppose I’d better go and see if I can retrieve any of our clothes from the beach. I don’t fancy driving back into Sunnydale just wearing a shortie towelling jacket, not even for you, sweetheart.”

‘OK, but don’t be too long. Dawnie’s sleeping over at Janice’s and will go straight to school with her, but Willow and Tara will wonder where I am.”

Standing stock still, Spike looked down at her, his blue eyes hidden by lowered lids, “And you still don’t want them to know you’re with me,” he said and it was more a statement than a question.

Buffy hesitated. Was this the time to tell him that Tara knew about them? That she’d had to confess to someone, the burden had been unbearable and Tara had seemed so sympathetic.

Confess - that was a strange word to use, she thought suddenly. It made it sound as if she was doing something bad - not something amazing and fulfilling.

And, of course, she was. She was sleeping with a souless vampire. Well, not a lot of sleeping happened, but okay, tonight had been different. They had actually slept together. Usually, just ‘the sex’, as Xander would have called it.

Lots and lots of ‘the sex’. Mind shattering, body trembling, craving him every second of the day and night, wishing he was doing it to me right now, making me come and come and come - but

She was the Slayer. Take away ‘the sex’ and the returning from the dead and everything else that had been happening, and, hey, still souless vampire and still Slayer.

Buffy shrugged, shivered and reached out to put some more wood on the dying fire. ‘There’s no ‘with’, Spike. You know that. There’s you and me, and sometimes we’re in the same space at the same time and we have - fun. But no ‘with’. How can there be? What do you want me to say to Willow and Xander? Oh guess what, after all these years of Spike being our mortal enemy and trying to kill us on numerous occasions, hey, we’re a couple now! That’s a really normal relationship to have, isn’t it?

“And even if I did manage to tell them, what about you. I can just see you going into Willie’s bar and announcing that your new girl friend is the Slayer. So let’s all be friends. Because I’ll still kill them, whenever and wherever I can. And you know that. So don’t let’s go pretending there’s any ‘with’.”

She picked up the poker and bashed the logs into flames once more. She didn’t see the expression that flickered across his face. Something more than hurt, something less than acceptance.

Spike said no more. He unlocked the door and strode out into the dark and wet. The wind and rain had eased and all he wanted now was to find their rotten clothes and get the hell out of here.

He slashed at a bush as he passed, tearing off leaves in a frenzied shower. She really was a class-a bitch, this girl. So determined to be normal, when she never would be. So keen to feel and experience everything he could show her, but at the first sign of her emotions being involved, she backed away at the speed of light and built up that brick wall she hid behind in her mind as fast as she could.

Every time he thought he’d knocked a way through, bam, there she was with another brick and mortar, filling in the gap and adding another layer on top as well.

Oh, he knew what was going through that feverish mind of hers, the drive to be normal that overcame everything else. Well, he’d been a few years older than Buffy when Dru had changed his life from normal forever. But only a few. It had never occurred to her that he knew exactly what she felt. That he might look back and wonder about normality.

“Fucking hell, not that I’d ever want to be back being that little shit again,” he swore to himself as he reached the beach and began to hunt for their clothes. “But at least you’d think she could see she isn’t the only person in the whole world who’s gone through this sort of life change.

‘Don’t suppose Oz wanted to be a werewolf. Hey, maybe Peaches dreams sometimes of what it would be like to be good old Liam again, getting drunk every night in Ireland without a care in the world, instead of brooding about every bloody thing that happens to him. Does Anya ever look back all those centuries and wonder about being a normal Scandinavian girl, living out a meagre peasant existence’

He spotted his jeans lying where she’d thrown them under rocky outcrop which had saved them from the worst of the rain. With a struggle he managed to drag them on.

The white feather trimmed dress he bought for her to wear was a muddy mess, but he picked it up. Bit of soap and water might get the worst of the dirt off, but - that was weird - he wasn’t quite sure why it was ripped up so much.

He remembered pulling it down off her shoulders to get to the creamy mounds of her breasts, get his tongue wrapped round those little pink peaks that drove his mouth crazy. He vaguely recalled her wriggling out of it, the guttural cries as she’d wrapped those powerful tanned legs round his waist and sucked every ounce of cum out of him.

But rips -

He lifted it to his nose and sniffed. Odd, although the rain had pounded it for a couple of hours, there was still an odour there. Only one demon left a scent like that. Tazksha. There was a bloody Tazksha somewhere on this island!

A low growl broke from his throat and he flashed into game face as from behind him came a piercing shout and Buffy’s voice yelling his name.

to be continued
 

Chapter 6 All this Time


Buffy crouched over the smouldering fire, trying not to cry as she coaxed some little blue flames from the logs with the poker. Spike had gone back to the lake to find their clothes, angry at her terse statement that they could never be together in the way he wanted.

Cold fresh air swirled through the half open door, clensing the room of wood smoke and the lingering smell of the passion they’d indulged in all night.

“What on earth are you crying about, Summers?” she muttered to herself. “Spike isn’t your boyfriend and never will be. He’s useful and sexy and useful being sexy and you can’t upset him because he doesn‘t have feelings like humans do. He‘s a vampire. Why can’t you remember that?”

She heard a footfall behind her, but refused to turn and look at him. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face. Then a dreadful smell flooded the room - a mixture of sour milk, bad eggs and rotten meat clogged her nose and throat.

Coughing she spun round. Something was shuffling towards her - something sewage brown and rotting, its flesh lumpy and peeling. Eyes gleamed - three of them - from the ugliest face she’d ever seen on a demon.

And all the time, the dreadful, dreadful smell. She felt herself shaking - and fought against the faint. Forced a scream out of her mouth. “Spike! Spike!”

She backed away round the log cabin, her bare feet searching for a good grip on the wooden floor, kicking the rag rugs away as they threatened to trip her. The demon was wheezing and gasping, reaching out for her with long, wet hands, the flesh shedding off them in gobbets of filth.

Buffy realised she was still holding the poker and jabbed out with it, keeping the demon at bay. She knew instinctively she mustn’t let that flesh touch hers. She could see that where the moisture hit the wooden floor, little burn marks were appearing. This demon was dripping acid.

A leap took her on top of the table and a whirling lunge plunged the poker into its shoulder. it roared and backed away for a moment, then came back towards her again as Spike charged through the door.

“It’s a Tazksha demon,” he yelled. “Don’t let it touch you, Buffy.”

“I don’t care if it’s a doughnut demon, it stinks,” Buffy shouted back. “At least you’ve got your pants on. I’d like to see you fighting it, wearing next to nothing.”

She leapt off the table towards Spike, across the demon’s head. Spike’s hands reached out to catch her, even finding time to grin at the slim tanned legs flashing below the short towelling robe.

She pulled out of his grasp and swung the poker at the Tazksha again. This time she hit its head and it went down with a squelching roar. But as it fell, it lunged out with both hands. Buffy went to swerve aside, caught her bare foot in one of the rugs she’d earlier kicked aside and stumbled.

“Buffy!” In one swift movement, Spike pushed her away and took the full force of the dying demon on his bare chest.

His yell of agony cut through Buffy, turning her stomach to water. She grabbed his arm and pulled him out from under the Tazksha but she could see that the damage had been done. Spike was unconscious, his bare chest and arms brutally burnt by the acid flesh.

“Oh god, oh god, no, Spike! Spike!” She dragged a cushion off a chair and thrust it gently under his head. “Stupid vampire,” she muttered. “Couldn’t dodge something that big and squelchy.”

She could hear the tremble in her voice and see it in the hand she ran carefully down his cheek, thanking all the gods in all the dimensions that his face was untouched. If it had gone in his eyes - she felt sick. She knew vampires healed fast, as did Slayers, but she was pretty sure they couldn’t grow new eyes.

“But why should I care,” she whispered unhappily. “I don’t understand.”

She stared down at the burn marks across the curves and planes of his chest. Only hours before she hadn’t been able to get enough of touching him, her flesh craving the feel of his against it. And now -

A hissing sound made her look up to see the Tazksha dissolving into a brown, muddy puddle of filth, the acid draining away between the wooden floor boards.

The door creaked back and forth in the breeze. It was getting lighter outside. Dawn was here already and the sun would soon be far too bright for Spike.

Buffy stood up and hunted round the log cabin. It was easier to explore now there was some daylight. In the dark the night before, she hadn’t noticed a small trunk tucked away on one side of the room. Inside were several bikinis and - joy of joys - a pair of shorts.

She shucked off the towelling jacket and pulled on a red bikini top and the white shorts. They were hideously tight but at least she felt half dressed and not quite so vulnerable.

Spike groaned and she spun round and sank to her knees beside him. “Spike - can you hear me?”

There was a long pause, then another groan, “Slayer....what the hell happened. Bloody hell, that hurts like - bloody hell!”

“Don’t move. The demon fell against you. You’ve got burns all across your chest and arms - ”

“No need to tell me that, sweetheart. Can tell from the pain. Observant like that, you know.”

Buffy gave a silent sigh of relief. If he was being sarcastic already, he couldn’t be that badly hurt - could he?

“I have to thank you. You...you saved my life...”

Spike slowly opened his eyes a slit and tried to focus on her. “No, just saving the assets I enjoy, pet. Didn’t want those beautiful breasts of yours all scorched. Don’t like my meat too well grilled.”

Buffy pulled the cushion out from under his head with one yank and it thudded down hard on the wooden floor.

‘Ouch!”

“Oh sorry, did that hurt?” she said sweetly.

“What happened to the thanks for saving my life speech?”

She grinned and wriggled closer to him on the floor, pulling the platinum head onto her lap. “You’re much nicer when you’re unconscious, Spike. Just be quiet for a while and let the burns start to heal. It’s too light to leave now.”

Spike closed his eyes, and she felt the powerful muscles begin to relax one by one as she stroked the blond curls into a riot.

She hoped he would sleep because she reckoned the pain was going to be very bad once he was fully awake. She shuddered. What if she’d lost him? The demon could have pushed him into the sunlight that was already splashing across the trees and bushes outside. The margin between happiness and despair was that narrow and suddenly she realised that if he wasn’t in her life, then nothing made sense.

“You can get back across the lake, Buffy,” he muttered suddenly. “The boat’s still there. It isn’t far.”

“Hush. I told you to be quiet. I’m not going anywhere, and anyway, I don’t think Buffy and boats are a very happy combination. I can’t work out how you row backwards so you can’t see where you’re going.”

There was a long pause and she wondered if he’d finally drifted off, then he muttered wearily, ‘“You once said the only chance I’d ever get of sleeping with you was when you were unconscious. Remember?”

Her hand on his head paused and she stared down at the man lying in her lap - at the high cheek bones, the dreadful burns on his white skin, the sprawl of the slender but powerful legs in the tight dark jeans.

Coming so close to losing him had made her realise lots of things. He’d been there for her all these years - enemy, friend, ally, lover - whenever she’d needed him, he’d been around but all she’d ever let herself see was - vampire. And only now was she beginning to realise that it wasn’t what he was that was important but who.

‘What a fool I was,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Fighting you all this time.” She took a deep breath and bent her head till it was almost level with his. “You know, don’t you, Spike. You’ve known all this time - that I love you.”

And she waited for the world to explode until she realised the vampire was fast asleep.


to be continued
 

Strip Snap by Lilachigh


Chp 7 Like Ice


“No...no...no...you can’t have her. She’s mine! Don’t touch her, Angel! Don’t ....don’t... dare, damn you.”

Buffy jerked awake, her gaze flying round the room to find the danger. Then she realised it was Spike who was yelling. He was still lying half in her lap, half on the floor, but tossing and turning, muttering.

“Spike? Spike! Wake up.” She felt his forehead and then told herself she was all sorts of an idiot. Vampires didn’t get fevers. Well, Angel had that one time when he’d been poisoned, but Spike had been burnt by the acid from the Tazksha demon, not poisoned.

She smoothed the platinum curls back from his temples and bit her lip. When they were close, when he pressed himself against her, he always felt cool to her touch. Sometimes just the feel of his skin on her burning body was enough to send her mad with desire, but now he felt like ice.

“Always loved....always wanted....he can’t have her. Kill him...kill him first....kill”

Buffy eased herself out from under him. She rolled up the short towelling robe she’d been wearing all night and gently placed it under his head.

“Come on, Spike. Wake up. Tell me what to do,” she murmured, beginning to feel panicky. Why wasn’t he healing? The burns on his chest looked just as bad as they had earlier. They hadn’t faded at all.

“I don’t know whether to keep you warm, or let you stay cold,” she said, kicking at the floor in frustration. “And there’s no way I can even get you down to the boat in all this sunlight, even if you could walk.”

Oh god, what if he - what if he never recovered. A chill ran through her as icy as the ones that were now shaking Spike every few seconds. Of all the countless times in the past when she’d wished him dead and dusted, never had she actually imagined it happening. Other vampires could vanish in an instant, but somehow she’d always known Spike would be there at the end of each fight. Annoying, sarcastic, a right royal pain in her butt. But unlike Angel and Riley and even her father, always there.

She knelt at his side, and ran her hand over his face. “Spike, please, come back. Come back for me.”

Suddenly, his eyelids flickered and there was a dull glint of blue as he looked at her. ‘Buffy?”

“I’m here, Spike. You’re sick. Spike, tell me, what should I do to help? Is there something you need to take or do?”

“C..cc...ccold.”

“Yes, I know you are. You got burnt by a Tazksha demon. Just shows you how unfit you are. You would have dodged him easily last year.”

She tried to sound bright and cheerful, hoping to see his eyebrow lift sardonically, hear some sarcastic quip. But there was nothing. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

Buffy reached for his hand and felt his fingers lace with hers. “G...go away...Slayer,” he muttered.

“Spike, I may be a lot of things, but I’m certainly not the sort of person who leaves my - my friends lying around in pain when they’re ill. Just tell me what to do to help.”

“D...dying. Soon. G..ggo away, pet. Not nice to see. Pain and more pain. Lots of screaming at the end probably. Although, have to say, deserve it. No regrets. Apart...sorry to leave you, pet.”

Buffy stared down at the face she despised, loathed, liked and loved and, for the first time in ages, felt truly scared. “Of course you’re not dying. Honestly, Spike, make a drama out of nothing, why doncha. You’ve caught some sort of bug from that squelchy demony thingy. That’s all. If you’d just stop with the Hollywood act and tell me what to do, life would be a lot simpler.”

His grip on her hand tightened and the blue slits grew fiercer. “D..dying, Buffy. Pain’s bad....getting worse. Go! Get away from me. D...don’t know if I can stay sane for long. D..don’t know what I’ll do if....I go mad.”

He pulled his hand out of hers and edged himself away, getting as close to the wall as he could.

Buffy stood, staring down at him. Her head was whirling. How could this be happening? They’d been so happy only hours before. The romantic boat ride, the picnic on the lake-shore, the way they’d made love so hard it had hurt.

‘Spike - listen. I’m going for help. I’ll find Clem or someone who knows what to do. Willow might. Or Anya. There’ll be something in one of the books at the Magic Shop. Just stay here till I get back.”

She hesitated at the door, torn between going and staying. She had the dreadful feeling that if she left, he wouldn’t be here on the island when she got back.

Then, a memory flashed through her brain and her fingers went to the scar on her neck. Her blood had cured Angel, why shouldn’t it cure Spike?

She dropped to her knees and pulled Spike round to face her. “Spike - listen - is it blood? Do you need to feed? You can - ” she pushed her hair back from her neck. “Here! Spike! Are you listening? Please, just - ” her voice trembled and broke.

The long black lashes trembled and he was there, conscious, looking up at her, at the slender neck she was offering to him. An expression she didn’t recognise flashed across his face.

“R...rather die, Slayer,” he got out, his teeth chattering. “N...never feed on you. Could kill you.”

“Don’t be such a pompous fool,” Buffy snapped. “This isn’t the time to be all English and stiff upper lippey. Just take the blood, Spike.” She paused, then, quietly, “Angel did.”

Spike backed even further away, a fierce expression on his face. “Bog-trotting Paddy w...wanker! G..go away. Never feed on you, pet. Never do that to my girl.” And then as if this last effort had been too much, his eyes shut and he slid into silence.

Buffy stared down at him, unaware that her cheeks were wet with tears. Why couldn’t he do it? Angel had. And she hadn’t died. OK, it had been a close call, but Spike couldn’t know that. He hadn’t been there during the Mayor’s ascension.

Or was it something else. Did the thought of her blood, Slayer’s blood, offend him in some way? Was it dirty to him? Unclean? She’d come close to forgetting recently that Spike was first and foremost a vampire. Perhaps it was okay to kill Slayers, or sleep with them, whichever he fancied at the time, but drinking their blood?

She clenched her fists as she turned away and pulled open the door just enough to get out without letting in too much daylight.

Outside was a green and blue world. The woods were fresh and smelt of rain and new growth and living things. The sky was a delicate egg shell blue and somewhere a bird was singing to the new day.

Buffy took a deep breath. She smelt of demon and wood smoke and Spike. She hurried through the woods, down towards the lake. It was a glorious day and she knew, without any doubt, that she would willingly go back into the darkened hut without a backward glance if it would save him.

The rowing boat was still there where Spike had left it all those hours earlier. She pushed it down the beach into the water and leapt in.

As she picked up the oars and began to inexpertly guide the boat across the lake, she knew, grimly, that somewhere on the far shore say Sunnydale. And if she had to take it apart, piece by piece, she would find a cure for him. No matter what it took.

to be continued.


 

Chapter 8 Going it Alone



The sun beat down on Buffy’s head as she rowed back across the lake to where they had left the car the night before. She could feel the blisters begin to burn on her hands as the smooth wood of the oars rubbed at her flesh.

The skimpy shorts she was wearing bit into her backside as she slid across the seat, trying to put all her Slayer strength into every stroke.

The air above the lake danced in the heat but inside her she could still feel the chill certainty of knowing Spike was dying from the poison the Tazksha demon had flung across his body. And if he died - nausea flooded her throat - if he died, she could go on living, but it would only be a half life.

‘I must find someone must help us,” she muttered, gasping as the blade of the oar missed the water and almost sent her sprawling.

God how difficult rowing was. Spike had made it look so easy the night before when it had been all moonlight and fun and hot, passionate sex that had made her very bones melt.

‘Just let me get home,’ she prayed. ‘I’ll run and run and find someone - ’

Suddenly, a thought bit through her brain and she stopped rowing and leant on the oars, staring back at the island where the vampire lay, fighting for his sanity against the pain that had taken over his entire being.

The land she was gazing at shimmered in the heat haze, as if it was a distant fairyland, about to vanish into the mists.

The brutal fact was - no one was going to help her save Spike. There - that was what her brain had been trying to tell her. She was looking for help, afraid to trust her own powers again. As she had done after she killed Angel and fled to L.A. ; after her mother had died. Scared to cope with Dawn on her own, desperate for someone to be there for her.

And when Willow had brought her back from the dead, all she’d wanted was to return to the heaven she’d left, to the peace and serenity, absolved from making big decisions, of having to be in control, the one everyone relied on.

And the only person who’d been there for her then, always on her side, always around when needed, needed her now.

Buffy knew what would happen if she returned to Sunnydale. Xander would flap around, saying he would help, but privately glad the vampire was dying. Willow would insist she couldn’t use magic any more, Anya would offer books and sell her potions, Tara would have some suggestions, but at the end of the day, it would be too little and too late.

No, she was the Slayer and this was a demon problem. And this time she was going to face up to what lay ahead and cope with it by herself.

She spun the boat round and raced for the island again, ignoring the pain in her hands, the sunburn on her bare arms and neck.

The path up through the woods was blissfully cool. Buffy pushed her way through the bushes, fighting the brambles that reached out to scratch at her legs. She needed to get to Spike - fast. Whatever happened, they had to face this together.

‘Spike - listen - we have to - ’ Buffy burst through the door into the little cabin and swerved to a stop. It was empty! Spike had vanished.

She gazed round, her heart racing. No ashes, the sunlight hadn’t pierced through the window and caught him while he was unconscious. No, she thought grimly, she knew exactly what her lover had done. He’d been determined she wouldn’ see him in pain, wouldn’t watch him to mad and die, and had somehow managed to drag himself outside.

But it was broad daylight! He couldn’t be outside - unless - ice froze the blood in her veins. Would he have gone that far? Tried to commit suicide to stop the pain? To end his torment?

“Spike! Answer me! Where the hell are you?”

Frantically, she gazed round the little room. There was nowhere for him to be. The cupboards were too small. The tiny bathroom off to one side held a toilet and a glass shower cubicle - not even a curtain for him to hide behind.

Buffy dragged her fingers through her blonde hair. She was about to race outside and hunt under the bushes when she noticed one of the cotton rugs on the floor was rucked up in an odd fashion.

Kicking it aside, she felt her hopes soar. There was a trap door in the wooden floor. The hut had some sort of cellar.

She grabbed the metal ring that was set flush to the ground and heaved. The ease with which the trapdoor swung upwards on its hinges confirmed that it had been opened only recently.

“Spike!”

No reply.

There was a flight of wooden steps leading down into the dark and a light switch. Buffy flicked it on and gasped. Lying on the earth floor at the foot of the ladder was the vampire.

Buffy hurtled down the steps and, dropping to her knees, pulled Spike over onto his back. Was he alive? How the hell did you check with a vampire? She knew Spike breathed when he didn’t need to. But at the moment his chest was still.

She gazed round the basement. It was bigger than the cabin above, had obviously been built as an extra storage space. There were stacks of tinned and bottled food and drink, towels, swimming-pool toys, tennis rackets, logs and matches - all sorts of odds and ends that had been packed away for holiday use.

Buffy cradled Spike’s head on her lap and brushed the dirt from his cheeks. He was still very cold, and the burns across his chest and arms looked just the same.

‘When the hell is vampire healing going to kick in?’ she muttered. “Spike! Spike! Wake up! William - wake up! Please.” She could feel the tears building inside her and brushed away a couple that fell onto his face. This was no time to dissolve into a sticky mess.

She ran her fingers over the taut skin across his muscled waist. As concerned and worried as she was, she felt a frizzon of excitement at touching him like this. It was weird being able to feast her eyes on him.

Usually when they were together, there was touching and fondinling and, of god, sex of all sorts that turned her to jelly. But she rarely got the chance just to look.

if she did, his hands would reach for her, his voice purr into her ears and it would all start again. She sighed and with a gentle touch, began to examine the burns on his chest, trying to assess if they were any worse when suddenly the long black lashes flickered - once - twice, he opened his eyes and looked up at her.

Oh, thank God, he was still alive!

“Spike - it’s Buffy. I came back. We’ll do this together. Fight it. Get you well again. I promise. Spike, talk to me, please.”

“Madam - I - I seem to have fallen asleep. I do beg your pardon. I must have partaken of strong drink somewhere. Please accept my deepest apologies, for this transgression. Allow me to rise, I beg of you.”

“Spike - why on earth are you speaking like - ” Buffy stared down at him sharply. The blue eyes that usually glinted and sparked at her like twin sapphires were still blue, but had a deep, dreamy quality in them that she’d never seen before.

His face looked softer, the expression worried and - god, what an odd word to use where Spike was concerned - shy! Yes, Spike, lay there, struggling to get up out of her lap and looked shy.

“Spike - what’s the matter? It’s me, Buffy.”

Oh god, she screamed inside her head. Don’t let it be his mind. Please, don’t let the demon poison have sent him insane. I’d rather he was dead than mad.

“Madam, I wish I had had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, but you are a stranger to me. Now, if you would kindly remove your hands from my person, I will need to be on my way home directly. Mother will be waiting for me.”

And as she stared at him in horror, Buffy suddenly realised. William the Bloody had vanished. William the quiet, bookish English gentleman had taken his place!


to be continued
 

Strip Snap by Lilachigh


Chapter 9 Down the Rabbit Hole


“Spike? OK, not Spike. William?” Buffy eased the vampire from her lap and he sat up, looking bewildered. He stared round the basement in amazement.

‘You know my name, Madam. I wish I could reciprocate, but you seem - ” His eyes widened in shock as he took in her appearance and then he looked swiftly away. “You seem to have been involved in some sort of dreadful accident and - lost most of your clothes. Was it footpads, ruffians who attacked us?”

Buffy’s lips twitched. She was sorely tempted to say, ‘Hey guy, you’ve seen me without a stitch on, so don’t worry about a T-shirt and shorts!’ but managed to keep quiet.

‘Indeed - ’ he winced and examined the burns from the Tazksha demon on his chest and arms, “I, too, seem to have come to some grief. These burns are most painful. Was I careless with an oil lamp, perhaps? I must apologise for my lack of shirt and - ’

‘Spike, do stop chuntering on about clothes!” Buffy said. “Try and concentrate. Try and remember what happened. The demon - the acid - being on the island in the storm.”

William stood up and backed away from her until the edge of a picnic table caught him behind the knees and he sat down on it abruptly. ‘Everything you say is strange, Madam. If I’ve been imbibing strong liqueur, then I must apologise once more. Now, if you will kindly show me the exit, I must get home. It feels late. I had no intention of staying at the party so long, but dear Cecily - ”

“Over a hundred years late,” Buffy interrupted. She stared at the vampire. How could someone look exactly the same, yet be so different? His face looked softer, his shoulders were slightly rounded, even his blond curls looked longer.

“William - ” she started again, then stopped. What on earth could she say to him? Hey, you’ve woken up in 2002, everything you knew and loved is dust and ashes, you’re on the other side of the world and oh, yes, guess what, you’re a vampire! Fancy a cup of blood?

“I don’t understand.” William ran his fingers through his hair, causing the peroxide curls to loosen up even more.

Buffy took a deep breath. “It’s a very long story. Let me begin by telling you my name’s Buffy Summers. I’m an American.”

“A Yankee!”

“Well, no, Californian, actually, but we won’t split hairs at this stage.”

William held out his hand and automatically Buffy took it. They shook hands, gravely, and William bowed his head in greeting. “I’m - I’m - ” A look of blind panic crossed his face. “I do not seem able to recall my name. Perhaps I had a blow to the head as well as the burns.”

“Your name is William,” Buffy said gently. “Sometimes I call you Spike.”

“So we’re acquainted, Miss Summers? I fear I do not recollect our being introduced. You must think me very discourteous, but - ”

“Yes, we know each other,” Buffy broke in, realising that, like Giles, William was going to take three sentences to say one.

‘May I enquire why you call me ‘Spike’?”

Buffy raised her eyebrows to heaven. “That’s a very long and complicated story. ” She realised she was still holding his hand and dropped it hastily. “Look, I know this is going to seem strange, but I want you to come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

Buffy stared into eyes that were as mild and blue as a summer sky. This was so weird. She knew that when a person was ‘turned’ into a vampire, a demon came and took over their body and they were no longer the same person.

Where Spike was concerned, she’d always had the feeling that his demon wasn’t fully in control. He was such an odd vampire in so many ways - not the least of them being his ability to fall in love, desperately, devotedly, passionately.

‘I want to get you some help - you - the other you - urrrgggh - you told me you were dying when the demon attacked you. We need to get advice, help, although I must admit you do seem - well, better.”

William stood up and stretched - Buffy blinked; she could almost see the scar tissue healing. It was as if he was on some some of fast track to recovery. And, “trying to stop bad lusty thoughts here,” she murmured to herself as her eyes took in the ripple of muscles in his chest and shoulders. He might have William’s face, but he definitely had Spike’s body.

She gave herself a severe mental slap as she wondered if all his other attributes were the same size and shape and -

“This is a decidedly odd place, Miss Summers,” he was saying now. “We appear to be in a cellar of some kind. Shall we explore upstairs? We may find a member of the constabulary who can assist us. And we must certainly try and find you some clothes to cover your - er - ” He gazed at her sideways, gulped and said, “Limbs.”

Buffy sighed. If Spike was expecting to find a British bobby in a funny helmet upstairs, he was going to be sadly disappointed!

Before she could move, he had run up the ladder and vanished through the trap door into the cabin above.

‘Spike! William, wait! Let me check it out first. Damn the man.”

Buffy fled up the ladder after him, pausing in surprise at the top as a hand was extended to help her up the last step.

Spike was still holding her hand as he stared round the little cabin, his eyes wide. ‘“I feel like someone from one of Mr Lewis Carroll’s books for children,” he said. “Are you acquainted with his work.? It has been published quite recently. I believe it is very fine. There is a child who falls down a rabbit hole, you know, and - ”

“Spike, we’re not down a rabbit hole and I’m definitely not Alice,” Buffy said, trying not to laugh. The situation wasn’t funny, but she was so relieved that Spike wasn’t dying, that even having to cope with William was a plus.

“Look, just trust me for now,” she continued. “We’re on an island in the middle of a lake and need to get back to the car.“

William turned curiously. “The cart? How far did the footpads bring us, then? I can hear bird song. Are we out in the countryside?”

“It’s not a cart, it’s a car. Oh Lord - there is no way I can explain the internal combustion engine to you. You’ll have to wait till we get back to Sunnydale and I’ll let Xander do that. Oh god, I don’t suppose you can drive, can you? That means I’ll have to.”

William hardly seemed to listen to her. He was still gazing around, a bemused expression on his face. “I’m anxious to see the lake. Perhaps it is somewhere I know.”

He strode towards the door and the handle was in his grasp when realisation hit Buffy like a shock of cold water.

He might be William, but every nerve in her body told her he was still a vampire and he was just about to throw open the door and step out into the sunlight.

“Sp - William! Stop!.”

She launched herself at him, grabbing his bare shoulders and pulling him backwards. The door burst open and she heard him hiss in pain as a burst of sunlight surged into the cabin, catching his bare arm.

She kicked the door closed and turned back to him. For a second, he stood, head bent over his arm, then he looked up and she realised he was in game face. William had vanished and the demon she knew only too well was there.

“Spike! Listen, think - this is you. Can you remember who you are? Try?”

He shook his head and the golden eyes changed back to blue and the bumps and lumps vanished. A startled William stared back at her.

“I’m...I’m....a....”

“Vampire. Yes, top marks for observation. You’re a vampire, evil undead person, a thorn in my side. If you go out in the sun, you burn up into dust. Avoid crosses, avoid all pointed wooden objects. In fact, you ought to avoid me, because I’m the Slayer, but we’ll tackle that little problem at another time.”

Spike collapsed onto the rug in front of the long dead fire. “How...I don’t understand. I was at a party, I had a poem to read to Cecily...I love...”

Buffy stared down at the dejected figure, then dropped to her knees next to him. “Spike, I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do to help. I don’t understand why you’re William and still a vampire. I don’t understand where ‘my’ Spike has gone. It has to be to do with the acid from the Tazksha demon . Probably it’ll wear off - like when I could hear people’s thoughts, or drank the beer and went all Cavewomany. Till then, we’ll just have to stay here until it gets dark, then row back across the lake and get home to Sunnydale. We’ll find Willow and she’ll know what to do to magic you back again.”

William looked up at her, his eyes blazing with hurt confusion. “I cannot deny that I am a vampire but I don’t - what will Mother say - what will Cecily - ” The words caught in his throat and he fell silent for a few seconds. Then, “This is turning out to be a very weird day, Miss Summers,” he said. “I don’t understand half of what you say. Why are we going to find a willow tree? Your accent is so very odd. And I must admit - ”

He stared at her shoulders and lifting a hand, ran a finger slowly over the tanned rounded flesh. “I have never seen a female unclothed to such an extent before.” he finished hoarsely. “Your legs, they are so long and shapely and - ” he swallowed and shifted uncomfortably.

Buffy glanced down and grinned. Whoever he was, the erection straining against the denim of his jeans was proof that some things never changed.

She reached out and touched the bulge lightly. William flinched and tried to move away, then paused as she cupped her hand and stroked him harder, letting her fingers dig in to rub at his balls. A little moan escaped his lips.

“Madam, i must insist that you stop this wanton behaviour - I have no knowledge of trollops and indeed, I intend to keep myself pure for Cecily and - ” His breath hissed out as Buffy found his zip and tugged it down.

His prick leapt out and she couldn’t resist. She knew it was naughty, but, hey, they had all day to spend and if this was going to be William’s first time, she was determined to make it one he would remember. At least until Spike came back!

She pulled off her T shirt over her head and watched in glee as his eyes widened so far she thought she would drown in them. A slender finger rose and tentatively touched one of her taut nipples.

“Pretty,” he groaned, “Like little rose buds.”

She moaned and could see the desire and expectation flood across his face. She leant across him and as the nipple brushed his lips, he pulled it into his mouth and began to suck it, softly at first and then so hard that a rush of hot fluid drenched her shorts.

She kicked them off and tackled the task of getting him out of his pants. Clumsily he helped and within seconds she was astride him. She’d meant to go slowly and carefully, but he was too big, too ready and everything in her was screaming for release.

Buffy had been sure William would be quick to come, but suddenly he flipped her over on her back and began pounding her. Her legs came up to lock behind his waist and the two of them surged into a long, thundering climax, their shouts mingling together and the noise carrying out of the cabin and down to the bottom of the lake where something in the mud and slime began to stir.


to be continued
 

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