Rating: NC-17. ::blush::
Spoilers: Set at the end of season 7, including everything that happened this season up through "Get It Done."
Disclaimer: Joss's toys . . . I doubt they'd ever get to do this on the show, so I thought I'd be naughty and give them a thrill.
Author's Note: This one's for Chen, who loved the bare-bones summary of this story. "Spike. Buffy. Sex in a snow drift."


It was over.

It was over?

Buffy looked around, taking in the scene around her as the snowflakes drifted down. As the battle had reached a conclusion, snow had begun falling. It had been surprising to see, but Buffy had considered it a good sign. Proof that the Powers that Be were on their side.

Somehow, they had won. Or, if not won in so many words, they had come to a draw with the First Evil. Through the night, everyone had been fighting the First. The Potentials had come through, making her onetime fears for their abilities seem foolish. Willow had used magic responsibly and safely, once again acting as their big gun. Xander, Giles, Anya and Dawn had provided their own skills in the fight. Even Andrew had come through.

And then there was Spike.

Buffy turned, looking for him. Looking for the man who had managed to resist giving in to his fear, who had stood by her side, giving her the support she needed so desperately. The man she had only recently realized was the one she'd spend the rest of her life with, no matter how short that life might be.

She looked around, wondering where he was. Everyone was looking a bit shell-shocked, surprised that they were all still here. Willow made the first movement, hugging Kennedy. That started a wave of hugs, smiles, and even a few tears.

Buffy felt shivers run down her spine, and not just from the snow. She wanted to hug someone. Wanted to burrow into his chest, and let his body warm her. He might be room temperature, but he had always made her warm.

But the person she wanted to hug was nowhere in sight.

She started moving through the crowd, accepting hugs and back slaps, not even noticing who hugged her and what they said. She was just looking for Spike.

Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of him. He was moving away from everyone, down the street, walking quickly, nearly running. Amongst all the whiteness, his black clothes made him stand out like a beacon, however.

She broke free from her friends, and started running towards him. She didn't know what was coming over her, but she knew that at this moment, she only wanted him. Wanted him in every way she could get him. In her arms, in her life, in her heart.

As she came closer to him, she called out, "Spike!"

He continued moving away, and she felt her breath catch. She knew that she wasn't the most emotional person. That talking and opening up would always be difficult for her. But she had thought, had felt, that she had let Spike in more than anyone else. Ever. He knew how she felt, didn't he?

Before, she would have turned away, let him go. But this was too important. She kept after him, managing to catch up with him. She adjusted her pace, keeping even with him. "Spike?" she asked, hoping that he couldn't hear exactly how scared she was that she was too late.

"Yeah, pet? Sun's coming up in just a few minutes."

"Um, Spike? I may be a California native, but I would say that the white stuff falling from the sky means that Mr. Sunshine won't be putting in an appearance today."

Spike looked up towards the sky, scowling a bit. "Don't trust it. The Powers that Screw You Over sent this--who knows what they really want? For all we know, they'll flip the switch, and the snow will stop. Hello sun, goodbye vampire."

Buffy frowned. She wasn't percepto-girl, but she felt like there was more going on in his head than just that. "Spike, come on. Stop for a second. I don't think you're in any danger."

"Easy for you to say, princess."

"I've been here before for miracle snow. You're safe."

Spike suddenly stopped, and turned towards her. His face was lined with worry and exhaustion. During the weeks before this battle, his fear that the First would once again trigger him had made him moody and morose. Even his recovery of his "demon" side, complete with duster, hadn't fully lifted his spirits. He didn't look like the same vampire who had complimented her fighting skills in the alley behind the Bronze, all those years ago.

"Oh, right, I forgot. The Slayer who knows all about miracles, because after all, she makes saving souled vampires a priority, while sending their less fortunate brethren to a hotter climate. Because the soul is so important. It's the soul is what makes me not hurt people, right? Makes me a white hat? Makes you . . ."

Spike's voice trailed off, and Buffy stared at him. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

"Makes me what, Spike?" Her voice came out as a whisper.

Spike's eyes were riveted on his boots, which were slowly being covered with snow. She touched his arm, but his eyes didn't flick up to hers. Instead, he spoke, his voice strangled.

"Makes you see me as an Angel substitute."

Buffy blinked in surprise. "An Angel sub--" She had no idea what made him think that. No idea where he had come up with that. Such a lame-ass, stupid, completely untrue idea . . .

Suddenly, she realized that Spike was looking at her with confusion, amazement, and shock in his eyes. And then she realized that she had said that last sentence out loud.

She dropped her eyes, embarrassment spreading over her. "Um, no. That's not how it is, Spike."

She felt him move closer, but she kept her eyes riveted to her nice, "not appropriate for magic snow" shoes.

"Then how is it, Slayer?"

She looked up at him, seeing the hope in his eyes. Didn't he know how she felt? It was so hard to figure out a way to tell him. To let him know, and have him believe her, after everything that had happened between them.

And then, she figured it out. Knew what to do. She made a mental note to thank the Powers at some point, for giving her the right thing to say.

She stepped even closer to him, and cupped his cheek in her hand. Rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone, feeling his skin. Slowly she pulled his face towards hers, and met his lips with her own. It was gentle and sweet, and she could have kissed him forever, but she stopped, and let her forehead rest against his.

She could feel his hands, resting on her hips, flexing a bit, as if he didn't believe this was real and was reassured by touch. Buffy closed her eyes, and said, "You are the only miracle I'm interested in."

She felt his whole body tremble at her words. She pulled back, opening her eyes, and felt such a wave of joy at his face. He looked . . . happy. So strange, to see that when she'd never really seen it before. Had seen him lovelorn or sad or angry or confused. But she'd never seen what a happy Spike looked like. And as she gazed at him, he seemed to get even happier with each passing second. His eyes remained closed, his head lowered, but she could feel his contentment with this moment, the peace practically rolling off him.

Such happiness was infectious. She wanted him to know how joyful she was. To share it with him. Wanted to share everything. She dropped her eyes, and said with a grin, "Besides, when Angel got miracle snow, he only got a dusting of snow. You're getting a blizzard."

Spike's eyes shot open, and he stared at her again. And then a burst of laughter came out of him, and his eyes were sparkling and he was smiling and oh my God, he had dimples! And she couldn't help the huge smile that spread across her face, and she kissed him again with a smile on her lips.

She felt like a kid as they kissed. Their noses bumped, and his teeth nibbled a bit too hard on her bottom lip. He suddenly twirled them both around, and she giggled.

The snow was still coming down, forming drifts along the streets. She should be cold, freezing in her thin jacket. But she was so far from cold.

Then, she found that she was a bit cold. And a little wet. And getting colder and wetter, thanks to a handsome vampire pushing her further into the snow.

"Spike, how did we end up in the snow?"

"Well, luv," he said, kissing her after every few words, "this snow just looked so comfy, and you looked so tired, after leading a force against the ultimate source of evil. Thought you could do with a bit of a lie-down." He stopped kissing her, and looked at her, with a smile that seemed to be permanently attached to his lips.

She smiled at him, and leaned up to kiss him. This kiss was different, though-with his body stretched out on top of hers, she felt less like a giddy teenager, and more like a happy woman. She couldn't remember if she had ever felt like this. The cold wetness suddenly didn't matter. She didn't care that they were outside, laying in a snow drift in a dark little alley, that her friends were probably looking for her, that anyone could see them. She only cared about him.

Buffy slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him closer to her. As he leaned in to kiss her, his eyes fluttered shut, long lashes brushing his cheeks. She kept her eyes open, though, and marveled at this beautiful man, who loved with everything he was and kissed her like he never wanted to stop. She sighed, and his tongue slipped into her mouth, rubbing her own, brushing past her teeth, letting her relearn the taste of him.

It was all too much, and she finally closed her eyes, letting her hands begin to move. She brought them around to his chest, feeling his muscles. He was a bit softer than he had been before, less defined, still affected by the torture the First had imposed on him. But he was still perfect to her.

She could feel his hands, still resting on her hips. He hadn't made a move, other than kissing her. And that wasn't nearly enough. She moved one of her hands to rest on top of his, and broke the kiss.

His eyes opened, letting her see all that wonderful love swirling there. Staring at him, she took his hand, and brought it to her shoulder, hoping he'd understand. Hoping he'd realize what she was asking. Hoping he'd . . .

Immediately slide his hand down, resting against the side of her breast. She sighed with contentment, and kissed him, a brief peck against his lips. His hand slowly moved over her breast, and he finally spoke.

"Buffy, love . . ."

She heard the question in his voice, knew he was getting ready to ask her if she was sure. She stopped his mouth with a kiss, not wanting him to have any doubt that this was what she wanted. Buffy pulled back, whispered "I'm sure," against his lips, and kissed him again.

As they kissed, his hands began moving across her, sparking sensations that she'd never expected. After the sex they'd had last year, she'd never thought she would feel so much better than that. He had always taken her farther than she thought she could go, and given her more than she expected. But this . . . this was so much more. Warmer, deeper, more intimate.

His fingers were fumbling with her coat, opening the buttons and pushing the sides apart. She ran her own hands over his chest, pushing her arms deep underneath his duster to tickle the bones of his spine. She felt his hand drift down and then slip underneath her top, and her breath caught at the feeling. It was like her skin had never been touched before. Like his fingertips spread some magic elixir all over her, leaving only pure delight in their wake.

Buffy pulled him closer, closer, needing him against her. She lifted his shirt and ran her hand over his abs, feeling the muscles jump at her touch. Spike dropped kisses on her cheeks as she touched him, and murmured random syllables as her fingers moved up his torso. She spread her legs wide, and he settled between them, like a boat easing into its harbor. His hips rocked against hers, in slow leisurely movements, and she drew him down to kiss her. Their bodies continued to move against each other, and their lips communicated all that speech wouldn't.

It was so much. Almost too much. She pulled away, letting her head drop back on the snow drift. Spike leaned his head against her shoulder, his low hum causing vibrations to prickle along her skin. The snowflakes fell onto her face, cooling the flush she felt there. She watched how the snow made his hair sparkle, and she suddenly said, "I want to make love with you."

Spike raised his head from her neck, and looked at her from under his eyebrows. She could still see his happiness, but it seemed like it had darkened a bit. He seemed to be working up his courage, because he dropped his eyes before he spoke. "Same here, love."

She waited for him to say more, but he didn't, keeping his gaze away from her face. She ran her hand across his lips, and said, "We're not getting ready to just have sex."

He looked at her again, and that look seemed to soothe his fears enough for his face to clear, to even get that mischievous glint back in his eyes. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, thinking that she was lucky to have the gift of a man like him. Someone who understood that words were the hardest part for her, and could translate Buffy-speak well enough to figure out what she really meant.

Because she was trying to say that this wasn't lust or affection or sex or screwing. This was love.

He leaned down again, and they kissed. The fact that their bed was a snowdrift, and their bodies were being blanketed with more ice crystals, didn't matter. All that mattered was touching, and tasting, and feeling. Their hands fumbled open snaps and zippers, finding flesh that had never forgotten the feel of the other. She felt him tugging at her pants, and thanked heavens that her coat was long enough to provide her some protection from the snow. And when he scooted his jeans down as well, she couldn't help the giggle that broke loose.

Spike looked at her, hurt flashing through his eyes but so used to schooling his expression that his face didn't change. She quickly kissed him, and said, "I'm just happy that the cold won't affect you."

He looked at her for a moment like she was crazy, which only made her giggle more. Then he snorted with laughter himself, and began kissing her again. "Right, then, time to warm you up, the best way I can."

And he slipped inside her, and she felt warmer than she'd ever felt before. She managed to whisper, "Definitely the best way," before she let her mind drift away, leaving her body behind to enjoy.

He moved slowly, in a luxurious rhythym, pulling back only to move forward, deeper each time. She rocked against him, clutching at his hips. This was so good . . . she felt so hot that she was surprised the snow wasn't melting around them. Words came forth in a stream from his mouth, and each one made her hotter. "Buffy . . . love . . . so warm . . . want you . . . baby . . . only you . . . stay here forever . . . "

She could feel tingles throughout her body, moving towards her center, Spike acting as magnetic north for her internal compass. She whispered against his neck, digging her hands into his shoulders. "Only want you . . . so good . . . Spike . . . " She had never talked much before, but now it seemed her thoughts could not remain unspoken.

Her words caused him to start moving faster, harder. She bit her lip as he pushed into her, and she could feel how close he was--as close as she was. Buffy leaned up, and kissed him. She tightened her muscles around him, wishing for a moment that they had done this inside, so they could both be naked and entwined together. But then again, this was . . . "Perfect. You're perfect, Spike."

She hadn't even realized she had said the words, until he gasped, and she felt him pulse with his release. And at that, the tingles combined and exploded through her. The pleasure that swept through her was so intense, she felt awareness flutter away for the next few moments.

She came back to herself as she heard him whisper against her neck, "Love you." And those words caused more joy within her than even the best orgasm.

Buffy smiled, knowing that she must have the world's dopiest expression on her face. But after all, she told herself, when you're laying in a snowbank, after making love with your soulmate, you're allowed to be a bit giddy. She turned her head, and whispered into his ear, "You warmed me up just right."

He turned and gazed at her, a smile on his lips. "Don't doubt that, love, but why don't we get out of this snow and go enjoy a bed?"

She smiled as well. "Would be a first for us. But makes sense with the new start we've got going here."

At her words, his eyes drifted shut, and he sighed and wrapped his arms around her. But now that their aerobic activity had stopped, she couldn't help shivering from the cold. He paused, watching her, and then said, "Right, basking in the afterglow--no go in the snow. Let's get decent, love, and go find shelter." He began pulling his clothes together, quickly and with jerky movements, as if he was upset.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she snapped and zipped, figuring out just what might be bothering him. He pulled her out of the snow, and she noticed that the flakes had stopped falling from the sky, even though it was still quite dark.

They moved quickly down the streets of Sunnydale, passing a few residents who were amazed at the snow covering their copies of the Sunnydale Post. She could tell something was bothering him. As they approached her house, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the backyard.

He protested as she dragged him along. "Buffy, we need to get you indoors, get you out of the cold."

When they reached the back porch, she turned to him. "Yes, we need to get me out of the cold. But you're the only one who can do that."

She was pretty sure she'd never seen Spike look so confused. Even for the best Buffy interpretor there was, this situation was rather incomprehensible.

Not that she wasn't wondering how she would manage explaining how she felt. "I've been out in the cold for a long, long time, Spike. You're the only one who can warm me up." She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "I shivered from the snow. I wasn't moving away from you. All I want is you."

She felt his arms move around her, returning her hug. He swayed for a moment, as if his emotions were too much for him to contain. "Bloody roller-coaster of a day it's been, love." She chuckled, and rubbed her cheek against his chest. Spike continued, "How about we go try finishing our afterglow in your bed?"

She smiled, and drew away from him. Buffy looked at him, taking him in completely. Not just noting how he looked at this very moment, but consciously opening herself up, trying to tell him with eyes and hands and mouth exactly what he meant to her. He deserved more than that, but she was working on the words.

Maybe soon, he wouldn't have to translate. She wouldn't stutter out her feelings in disjointed sentences, relying on him to read her emotions in a language of pauses and murmurs. After all, "I love you" would be pretty clear-cut.

But for now, it was enough, for the both of them, to hold hands and even sneak a kiss, as they walked into her house.

End.