Chapter 5

"Wouldn't you like to touch me?"

"No," Buffy swallowed hard. Men were so big when they were like this. She should be used to seeing him since he'd been naked in front of her for virtually all the time they'd been together, but seeing him lying there proudly displaying himself to her made her realise just how impossible this was going to be. How would he ever get that inside her? she thought with great trepidation.

"Aren't you just the slightest bit curious?" Spike said touching himself. "Don't you want to know what it feels like? To discover whether it's as hard as it looks? Find out what these feel like in your dainty little palm." Spike cupped his balls. "They'd fit just right, I reckon."

Buffy put her hands behind her back.

"I don't think a genteel young lady would want to do any such thing," she said. "Besides, you are supposed to be asking me. I will do it if you ask me politely."

Spike continued to stroke himself, seeming to grow larger with each thrust into his hand. "You could do this for me love. Make me come in your pretty little hand. Wouldn't you like that kind of power over me?"

"Does it grow larger every time you do that?" Buffy's eyes were very wide now and she seemed to be unable to tear her gaze from the spectacle in front of her. He has no shame, she thought as her fingers twitched behind her back.

"Oh, for God's sake," Spike said grabbing at her arm. "Put your hand on me, woman. Want you to make me come. Please will you make me come? There, I've said it."

"But what do you mean?" She had no idea what he was talking about. "Come where, Spike?

"I'll show you." He wrapped her hand around his cock and she saw him grit his teeth as she instinctively squeezed. "Yes, just like that."

Buffy didn't answer. Instead she was momentarily lost in the sensation of the smoothest skin she'd ever felt under her fingers. A contradiction of strength and softness, she thought as she ran her finger along the length of him. She jumped a little as it twitched under her touch and looked enquiringly at Spike.

"Have a little play," he told her and settled himself into the pillows.

"You must tell me what to do," Buffy replied. She stroked him again, gently, and found that she wasn't as revolted she thought she was going to be. "Is this alright?"

"More than alright, pet. Do it as hard as you like, you won't hurt me."

"I've noticed that," she said, curling her hand around him "How are you so strong, when you look so ordinary?"

Spike laughed at that. "Ordinary, am I? Appearances can be very deceptive, love. No, don't stop."

She'd momentarily taken her mind from her task as she remembered the murdered sailor. Spike had one-handedly lifted him clear from the ground with what could only be described as supernatural strength. It was something she couldn't begin to comprehend.

"Carry on, love," Spike urged her moving his hips.

She resumed her scrutiny, telling herself that she should do this, find out as much as she could about the male anatomy for if she was going to make a living from being a whore, then she ought to know what she was doing. Perhaps if she learned a few tricks then someone would set her up as their mistress and release her from a life on the streets?

"Why is the skin so soft, when it's so hard underneath?"

" 'Cos you're all soft and delicate inside, love. Makes it more sensitive too. Curl your fingers around it, like this." Spike covered her hand with his, showing her how to grip and move. After a few strokes he released her to carry on by herself, falling into a rhythm that he seemed to like.

She brushed her thumb over the tip on every stroke and he gave a small groan when she did that. Men were so easy to please, she realised. She had the strongest man she'd ever met lying under her hand and all she was doing was touching a very small part of him, yet he was writhing and groaning as if he had no will left of his own at all.

"Use your other hand too," he urged her.

She reached forward and placed her palm flat on his chest, never breaking her rhythm with the other. Again, smooth and white, he was very pale, yet hard and rigid. She moved it down, feeling his taught stomach muscles and his firm hips. She wondered if all men looked like this naked. Women were often referred to as beautiful, but men could be too, she thought sweeping her fingers over his hip and making him wriggle.

And those things that nestled beneath his cock? She reached out a hand to touch them and found them to be soft and mobile, and that he liked it very much when she filled her hand with them and gently rolled them about. Instinctively she knew that they should be handled with care, so she started to squeeze them very lightly in time with her other hand.

So intent was she on what she was doing that she'd almost forgotten all about Spike until suddenly his hips jerked beneath her.

"Bloody hell," he shouted thrusting his cock sharply into her hand.

She let go of him as liquid erupted from the tip, staring in shock and surprise at what she'd made him do, her hand hovering in mid air. Spike grabbed it and put it back, holding it in place as he continued to pump. Some of it caught in her fingers but she couldn't move them because he wasn't about to let go until he'd finished. All she could do was watch as he continued to thrust at her and let out a series of guttural groans which finally subsided into a long sigh. The sticky substance pooled on his stomach and dripped through her fingers and Spike just lay back with a wide grin on his face, his arms flung wide looking very pleased with himself indeed.

Spike was a dangerous and powerful man, but when she touched him there he was as helpless as a small kitten purring under her hand. Go for the weakness, the voice in her head urged her. It's your only chance of escape. Do it now while he still remembers.

"Did you like that, Spike?" She wiped her hand on the quilt and then took a loose corner of the bed-sheet and started to clean him up. She did it slowly watching as he quickly hardened again under her touch. Watched his face turn serious again as she trailed the sheet over his stomach and began to rub lightly.

"It was nice love," he said, his eyes never leaving her hand.

"Only nice? I'm disappointed, Spike." She turned her attention to his balls and wiped at them with small strokes. Every touch made him twitch.

"Even better for a bit of practice, yes?" He reached for her hand, but Buffy held it up and away from him.

"Do you want me to do it again?" she said in a low voice.

"Please." He went for her hand once more and a puzzled look clouded his features when he saw her sit back and fold her arms.

"Let me go then." she said. "And I will."

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He dropped her hand and clenched his jaw. Now, more than at any other time, he needed to hide this strange neediness that this woman made him feel.

'Told you so,' his demon sneered.

"You'd like me to do that again, wouldn't you?" Buffy said from the other side of the bed.

"Not bothered, Pet," Spike said moving towards her.

He saw her flinch as he leaned across her, picked up the wine bottle and helped himself to a glass of wine.

"Have something to eat," he said casually. "You must be hungry, what've you been living on, table scraps?"

"I'm not," she said.

Stubborn as hell, he thought. Just how he liked them.

"Eat something, you stupid woman, you'll never last the night without food in you."

"Are you going to?" she asked, still looking longingly at the food.

"I've eaten," he said tossing back his wine. "Go ahead, I can see you're half starved."

Buffy looked down at herself. "How can you possibly say that? And stop calling me stupid, I'm not."

"Could have fooled me," Spike said. "I'm not the one sitting in a strange man's bed. I'm not the one who's just made a deal with the devil."

Buffy's head whipped up.

"Joking," Spike said holding up his hands. "Well, about the devil part, anyway. Do I have to feed you?"

"No, no you don't," Buffy said "I will eat something if all you're going to do is lie there. Are you sure you won't want me to do that again?"

Spike took a moment to control himself before answering with a non-committal shrug. "Can get that anywhere, pet. Could do it myself if I was desperate enough. No, you go ahead and eat, I can hear your stomach rumbling from here."

He watched her through half closed eyes as she wiped her hand fastidiously on the quilt, reached for a plate and filled it with a chunk of bread and a lump of cheese. She settled herself down and nibbled at it with the bare restraint of someone who was voraciously hungry, but trying to give the impression that they didn't care a jot if they ate or not. He could feel how hungry she was, could hear every sound her stomach made as it protested, and gurgled.

'Didn't we just enjoy that? Her hand on us?' his demon enquired.

'We did,' Spike replied and reclined once more against the pillows.

'Make her do it again,' it urged.

'I can wait.'

'What for?'

'She's not going to win this,'' Spike said. 'Can't you feel how close she is to giving in? How much she wants this?'

'You flatter yourself, as usual,' his demon replied. 'That girl will die before she does anything she doesn't want to. You know that.'

'Well, of course I know it,' Spike said. He reached for his cup of blood because dammit, he was getting hungry again. He only had to look at her and he was hungry.

His demon growled, a sharp frustrated sound. 'Stale blood?' Its voice was laced with contempt. 'And from an animal too? William,' it said, 'I raised you better than this.'

'It's all under control,' Spike told it, hurriedly wiping away some blood that had splashed onto his chin. 'Anything she does tonight, she'll do voluntarily. Not going to have to force this one, you'll see.'

'But what fun is there in that?' his demon said, genuinely mystified.

'You couldn't begin to understand,' Spike told him.

He finished his blood and set down his cup. Buffy was still eating, every now and then stealing him a small glance. Spike smiled in return to let her know he'd seen her and let his hand stray to his cock once more. She tried to ignore him as he ran his finger nail along it then brought his other hand up to his chest and trailed his fingers slowly down.

His demon should have known better than to goad him when he was feeling satisfied.

The way she'd approached her task so innocently had been exciting enough in itself without the promise that she showed at her new vocation. She did need practice, he hadn't been joking about that, but my god, what she was going to be like when she really got the hang of it.

Yes, he could take her with all the brute force that his demon was advocating, make her to do things, and yes, that would be exciting too. But there was something about a small dainty hand that didn't quite know what it was doing. The irregular jerky rhythm. The instinctive gentleness of her touch, despite him having told her to go at it as hard as she like. The way she'd concentrated and looked so intent on her task. And best of all, the look on her face when he'd come, in her hand as he'd promised. Absolutely priceless and something money could never buy.

He could only just admit it to himself, but what he needed most from this girl called Buffy was her innocence. Something he was going to take from her. He should be defiling her and killing her just about now, they never lasted very long, despite his best intentions. But all he was doing was sitting here, watching her eat and making moon-eyes at her.

And remembering how her hand had felt on him, and how his lips had felt on her.

His demon opened its mouth.

'Shut up,' Spike told it. Then he reached out his arm and let his finger rest very lightly on Buffy's thigh. Very slowly and deliberately he began to bunch the material of her skirt in his hand so that it started to slide up her leg with every movement.

She watched his hand like a startled rabbit, unmoving except for the things only he could hear.

Her blood picking up speed with his every touch. Her heart growing louder and louder until it felt as if it was pounding in his chest. The faint tremor that rippled over her skin and that unique scent that grew stronger and stronger with every passing moment that told him that her body did indeed play her false.

The impassive mask that she was struggling to keep on her face was slipping fast as her body took over, and virtually screamed its needs at him.

He fought his demon, and she was fighting hers, he could see that.

"What are you doing," she managed at last in a small voice.

"Starting the next round, love," Spike told her, moving closer.

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He's too close, Buffy thought. She put down her plate, pushed down her skirt, and tried to move further away from him, but the only place to go was over the edge of the bed. He caught her as she swayed.

"I didn't ask you to touch me," she said, shaking him off.

He let her go with a chuckle. "You didn't have to, love. Can feel how much you want me."

"You're wrong," she said. "It's you that wants me." She folded her arms again and twisted herself away from him, but he was with her, mirroring her every move. Anticipating where she was going even before she knew it herself. She pushed herself towards the end of the bed, but he was there, his arms held wide, a wicked grin on his face.

"And where do you think you're off to, madam?" he asked.

"These are not the rules, Spike. You're not playing fair." She shouted, uncaring of the consequences.

"Never said I would, love."

He raised his eyebrows and stuck his tongue out, slowly sweeping it over his lips before tilting his head at her, and just at that moment all that she saw was another man who thought that he was so charming that God had sent him as a gift to womankind. She forgot that he was a dangerous killer, forgot how it had felt when he'd swept his tongue over her most intimate of places and how her hand had felt on his. He was arrogance personified, as all men were and she wasn't going to tolerate it for one moment longer.

"And neither did I," she said, and with a hard shove sent him toppling over the edge of the high bed.

There was a thud and a muffled curse as he hit the ground and Buffy put her hand over her mouth. Possibly not the best thing she could have done in the circumstances. The problem was, as she waited for him to surface and probably break her neck at last, that although a cold terror was seeping through her veins at the thought of his wrath, all she wanted to do, unfortunately, was laugh.

Nerves mingled with terror, she told herself, and possibly the worse thing she could do. Weren't men at their most evil when they were shown up to be fools? And particularly by a woman? She bit the inside of her cheek as she waited, hoping that no sound would come out as she started to shake. The look of surprise on his face as he'd gone over was still in her mind and surely he wasn't going to suffer this indignity lightly?

For a moment it was very quiet and her need for laughter subsided as it was overridden by a desire to find out why he wasn't jumping up with a roar and killing her, or finally attacking her and doing that other thing he'd been wanting to do all night. She leaned forward a little and peered over the side of the bed, every nerve on edge as she looked down.

He was lying very still and she felt a very irrational pang of concern at the thought that she'd hurt him. Concern? For this creature who'd treated her so cruelly? Her eyes narrowed as she took in his still form and then she slowly slid from the bed to her knees beside him. Why wasn't he moving? And how could this have hurt someone so strong?

She reached out to shake him, but stopped herself.

She should run, now. God had obviously intervened and she'd be foolish not to take this chance. She stood up, her eyes never leaving him and gritted her teeth as the pain of her injured feet reminded her that she wasn't going to get very far, very fast. Her boots, where were they? She looked around in panic and spotted them on the other side of the room where she'd dropped them. They were right in the middle of the scattered pieces of glass so she looked around for something to throw over the shards so that she could reach her boots safely and get herself away.

The key? He'd probably locked the door and it wasn't in the lock, she could see that. Where would he put it? she asked herself, frantically scanning the room. His jacket. Probably in his jacket, or his trouser pocket she thought, locating his clothing where he'd dropped them.

She'd only taken two very painful steps towards them before her conscience got the better of her and she turned back to Spike, who still hadn't moved. Could she leave him here, knowing that he might be seriously injured. Shouldn't she check?

No, she told herself firmly. He'd shown her small mercy tonight and deserved no better than this. She was fighting for her life, she had no doubt about that. But when she looked back at him again it didn't look as if he was breathing and her heart flipped right over.

She'd killed him.

Surely not? Her skin started to crawl at the thought. She'd taken a life.

'Good.' A small voice spoke to her from the darkest corner of her mind. If he's dead, then you can get away. Go now and get as far away as possible from this place. But even as she was thinking it, she was dropping to her knees beside him, her shaking hand reaching out and tentatively touching his chest. She could see quite clearly now that he wasn't breathing, nor could she feel any sign that his heart was still beating.

Her trembling skin was now starting to turn clammy as a cold sweat ghosted over her whole being. She was no better than he was, she thought as she slowly lowered her head to find out whether his heart had truly stopped beating.

Run, the voice told her. I can't, she thought, I need to know what I've done. He'd told her he'd had a terrible disease, perhaps that's what had made him so vulnerable?

She pressed her ear to his chest, one hand flat and holding herself steady, and listened.

Nothing. No movement, no sound. No doubting that he was dead, and she was touching a corpse. That thought made her spring away from him in horror. He'd always felt cold but now she did too, as if by touching him she'd caught that horrible thing he'd spoken of.

Go! The panic was rising in her now and she was having trouble containing the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat at any moment. Ignoring the pain in her feet she ran cross the room and picked up Spike's discarded jacket. No key. She searched the pockets again, dropped it and picked up his trousers. Again, nothing.

She looked around, her brain scrabbling to think of a place where it might be and that's when she saw something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

The corpse was gone.

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Containing the laughter had been the worse part. And ignoring his demon who was telling him to jump her while she was listening to his heart.

'She'll die of fright,' it told him gleefully. 'Then you can drink her down while she's still hot, and won't that be good?'

Spike didn't fool himself that she was doing it out of concern for his well being when she'd checked to see if he was still alive, but it had crossed his mind that she would probably find out at sometime during the night that he didn't breath, or that his heart didn't beat so he thought she might as well find it out now and have done with it. The panic he'd felt in her was just a bonus really, his demon had won that little round as he'd lain beneath her and listened to her blood rushing around and felt her frightened tremors.

When her back was turned he rose and moved noiselessly across the room, standing behind her and out of her sight. Then he was going to wait until she turned around but his demon thought it would be much funnier if he tapped her on the shoulder instead.

'Imagine how high she's going to jump,' it whispered with a chuckle.

Spike tried to resist the urge to scare her witless, although he knew that she was going to be just as shocked whenever she saw him, but he couldn't. He leaned over her as she crouched to search his jacket once more and whispered 'boo' very quietly in her ear.

Buffy did jump. So hard, in fact, that the top of her head made contact with his nose in a very abrupt manner causing them both to cry out in pain.

Spike stepped back, clutching at his face while Buffy held both of her hands to the top of her head and just stared at him, her eyes growing wider and wider until suddenly she opened her mouth and let out a piercing scream. And she didn't seem about to stop.

Spike took her by the arms but that just made her worse as she struggled to get away from him babbling over and over that he was supposed to be dead. He pulled her in close, holding her so tightly that she couldn't move any more, all the while trying to get through to her that he wasn't dead and that she was mistaken.

The more she struggled, the more his demon revelled in it and Spike felt his control slipping once more as waves of fear radiated off her skin. He could feel it, his face changing, his demon urging him on, the panic that she was going to see who he really was.

The game had turned deadly serious all of a sudden and he knew that if she saw him now, before he'd had any chance to explain all this, then any hope that she'd have eventually come to understand what he was would fly straight out of the window. There was no way he was going to be able to explain this away as a strange disease.

He buried his face in her shoulder as he fought for control, not daring to let her go because he knew that if she ran, then he'd lose it completely. His demon danced and rubbed his hands and licked his lips.

'So close,' it said. 'Her blood, it's calling you. All you have to do is open your mouth and bite. Go on, do it.'

But the other voice that lived in his head was watching, and listening too. It was never very loud, William had been a quiet, unassuming kind of person. A poet and a philosopher who sat about dreaming of beautiful things that inhabited a perfect world. But he had his moments, and this was one of them.

'Kiss her,' he whispered. 'It's your only hope, and hers.'

Buffy gave one last, startled gasp as Spike's mouth latched on to hers with all the desperation of someone who's fighting for their very survival. At that moment his hysteria was quite equal to hers as he caught her hair and held her in place for his frantic mouth.

A thin stream of her blood invaded his senses as his sharp teeth scraped along her lip, but he ignored it and concentrated instead on the warm, wet slide of her mouth against his. He gave her no room for protest, held her arms firm when she tried to push him away and lifted her clear from the floor when she tried to kick him.

Two steps took him to the bed and he hitched her up onto it and jammed himself between her thighs, all the while never breaking contact with her mouth. His tongue pushed inside, pressing against hers and tasting every inch it could reach. Sweetness and light, that's what she tasted of and he licked up every drop he could find because suddenly he wanted it so much.

He felt himself softening a little as he calmed down and his face changed back. His lips no longer pressed against hers with such a bruising intensity and she was no longer fighting him. He slowed his movements to a light, rhythmic caress still holding her in place because he wasn't sure that she was listening to what he was trying to tell her, and he so urgently needed her to hear it.

Something that couldn't be put in words, and something that he didn't deserve. Something he'd lost hope of long ago. She did make him feel like a man again, no matter how much he denied it, and he was going to take everything he could get of it, even if it was just for one night.

He let go of her for a moment and she just looked at him, shaking her head as if she didn't understand what was going on. Dropping his lips to hers once more he continued with his wordless plea, his hips moving as he pressed himself against her most sensitive parts.

He felt the moment at which she started kissing him back. The point at which her lips were no longer just receiving, but giving back in equal measure. Her hand came up to cup the back of his neck, her fingers tangled into his hair. Her hot breath fanned his face and he breathed it in, letting it warm him, and he allowed himself a small fantasy. Imagined that she wasn't just doing this because her life depended on it.

He'd had countless lovers and they'd screamed and moaned and grunted under his touch. He'd heard them cry out their ecstatic release, seen them die in agony, felt their last breath leave their body and watched their souls depart for heaven, or hell, whatever they deserved.

But none of it touched him as much as this. Her soft lips delicately tasting his, her hand holding him in place with a whispered touch and her heat surrounding him. Reminding him of what he once was. This was a small vision of a heaven he would never see again, something to remember when the endless eternity of hell eventually claimed him.

Did she know what she did to him? He doubted it. What wouldn't you do if your life was on the line? Her body did betray her, he could feel how much it wanted this. But would she ever want him as much as he wanted her?

'Of course not,' his demon said. 'You're a monster through and through, and that's all she sees when she looks at you.'

'I was a man once.'

'But you never will be again, no matter how much you fool yourself with this,' his demon replied.

And Spike had no answer to that.

He broke the kiss and Buffy breathed deeply, her chest heaving, her eyes never leaving his face. A swirl of emotions played over her features, revulsion, desire, desperation, longing. He watched them come and go as her eyes searched his, trying to understand what had just happened. Then he felt her hand on his chest, over the place where his heart used to beat as strongly as hers and her eyes narrowed as she listened and watched.

So he breathed for her because he wasn't ready for her to know his dirty little secret yet. And she seemed relieved by that.

"I thought you were dead," she said genuinely bewildered.

"Take a lot more than that to kill me love," he said, his hands holding her loosely now as he stood between her legs.

"I thought I'd killed you." Her face crumpled a little as she said it, but he knew that she wasn't saying it because she thought he'd died. He could see what it was that was causing her eyes to mist up and a tormented look to cloud her features.

The thought that she'd taken a life, that she'd become a killer, like him. That's what was upsetting her. That's what was causing this violent rush of emotion to cloud her judgment and cause her to kiss him back with such wild abandon.

"Let me make love to you, Buffy." One night, that's all he had to convince her.

Her head whipped up and she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Please let me make love to you." He tightened his fingers on her hips as he spoke and pulled her further into him, moving his own hips as she came flush against him. Even through the thick material of her dress, he could feel her flowering and opening for him.

"I really want to be inside you, love." He pitched his voice low and seductive all the while moving against her, watching her face change as her resistance melted away.

"I'll make it really good for you." Her gown was still partially open at the front, enough that he could bend his head and press light teasing kisses against the curves of her breasts. She did nothing to stop him, but it wasn't because he'd taken her will from her. He could do that if he wanted to, but it would mean nothing like that.

"The soft, velvet skin of my cock brushing against your tight, hot woman-hood. I can feel it, Buffy. How much you want it. Let me make you feel good."

She looked as if he'd mesmerised her. Startled by his words but insanely curious too. He could feel the battle she was fighting with herself. See the small movements she made towards him even as she tried to pull back. Part of her wanted to run, but another part wanted to know if his seductive words were true.

"A bargain?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said sweeping his hands down her thighs, over her knees, tugging at her skirt. She tried to close her legs when he did that, clamping them around him, but he pushed them back open with a hand on the inside of each thigh. "No, open up for me my sweet. Let me do this."

She resisted slightly and then he felt the tension fall away, he was so painfully hard for her now that he was in danger of coming all over her dress. Her fingers were a hair's breadth away from him now and he knew that if she touched him, then he was lost.

"A bargain?" she repeated, her hand ghosting across the length of him without touching him.

"Yes," he said, gritting his teeth. Even when she didn't touch him, he could feel it.

"But whose?" she said curling her fingers around him. "Tell me whose bargain this is, Spike."

tbc......

Chapter 6:

An interesting dilemma faced her as his persuasive words assaulted and attacked her defences.

It felt good, and she had no doubt that he would make it good for her as he’d promised. So why shouldn’t she do this, if she wanted to? Why did society deny women this pleasure When men seemed to have it freely available to them?

Because it would make you weak, the voice in her head said to her. If you give in now, without making him uphold your bargain then you will be like all those gullible women who have probably fallen for his sweet talking in the past. Once he’s had his way with you then who knows what will happen? Don’t be betrayed by momentary pleasures, it told her. Now is the time to be strong.

But how can I? she thought, when his touch is driving me mad with need. When I want this as much as he does?

“Spike,” she whispered as his hand continued stroking the bare flesh of her thighs. “Tell me you agree to my bargain.”

“What’s that love?” he mumbled against her cheek.

His tongue slid along the line of her jaw leaving a cool, wet trail and she arched back as he dipped to her throat and began to suck.

“Do you not remember?” she asked him, trying to push him away, but finding no strength left in her hands. He wasn’t forcing her, but he was pushing her forward just a little harder than she was pushing him away. Using just enough strength to lead her towards his intended goal without seeming as if he was making her do anything she didn’t do freely.

She knew what he was doing, yet, to her shame, was almost helpless to resist, like a donkey with a carrot dangling in front of it, she strained towards that sinful release that he’d already made her experience more than once.

“That’s right love,” he said pushing her back onto the bed and crawling up over her. “There’s nothing wrong in you wanting me as much as I want you. Just go with me.”

“Agree to my bargain, Spike, “she managed to say. “I’ll do this if you agree.”

“Anything,” he said as he pushed up her skirt. “Buffy,” his voice was urgent, almost at the point of breaking with some emotion she couldn’t define. It sounded too much like desperation, like the way he’d kissed her just now. He’d only known her a few hours, and could have taken her at any time, yet she’d reduced him to this. “Buffy,” he repeated again. “Only you can save me. Show me I’m worth saving.”

And then he lifted his head and looked at her with such desolation that her heart nearly broke in two. There was a man still left in there, deny it though he might.

Her hand shook as she reached out and touched his hair. “What’s wrong with you, Spike? What is it that torments you so?”

“You,” he said, almost angrily, and she recoiled and moved her hand away, but he pulled it back and pressed a hard kiss into her palm. “See, you’ve made me into a madman. See what you do?”

She recoiled again, snatching back her hand as her heart froze at his words. Words that she’d hear before, and all too recently.

“Is that something all men say to excuse their base urges?” she said in a cool tone. "It’s all too easy to blame your lack of control on me, isn’t it? I’m such a temptress that I’ve made you mad with lust, isn’t that how the speech goes?”

Buffy stayed as she was and made no effort to cover herself. Legs open, skirts askew and with Spike kneeling between them, giving no real indication that he’d heard her apart from the thoughtful gaze he now directed at her most secret of places. A light finger marked a pattern on the inside of her thigh and she suddenly felt all the fight drain out of her.

“Do what you like,” she said. “For I am truly past caring. Here.” Taking his hand she flattened his palm higher along the inside of her thigh. “Isn’t this where you were? Pray, do continue.”

They were both mad she decided. Both sliding down some slippery slope from which there would be no return. His words had broken the sensual spell he’d been weaving around her and now all she felt was cold, like him.

Spike’s eyes narrowed as his fingers continued their exploration. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I have morals,” he said. “I know you don’t mean me to really. I know I’m supposed to be a gentleman now and say I couldn’t possibly take you up on such an offer when it would offend you so. But if you say it once more, Buffy, I will do it. All I need is your consent.”

She gave a dry laugh even as she was squirming under his busy fingers. “You don’t need it, you just want it to make you feel better about all this.”

“I meant it, you know.” Spike reached forward and took her by the chin, forcing her to look at him. “Only you can save me, Buffy.”

She shook him off, angry at his arrogance. “And why should I want to save you? You’re going to hell, Spike. How many people have you killed without so much of a backward glance? The sailor wasn’t the first, was he? No, Spike, you are beyond saving, and you want to drag me to hell with you. We’re all going to hell,” she screamed at him.

Her outburst was followed by a short, hysterical laugh and then she spoke again, softly this time, her words laced with a quiet conviction , her body sagging in resignation.

“We’re all going to hell, Spike.”

---------------------------------------------------

He didn’t need her to tell him that. It was the one thing he’d been sure about since this thing had happened to him, but to hear the words stated, out loud and with such surety made his skin prickle. And somehow he thought she’d have been stronger than this, but he hadn’t counted on the fact that someone had been there before him to push her so near the edge that the slightest nudge was going to send her right over.

His demon complimented the man who’d done this. 'A fine job,' it said, 'listen and learn, William. Is not a person driven by desperation to the edge of insanity, the most amusing of creatures?'

Spike loosened his hold and rubbed his thumb over her chin, letting it linger on her bottom lip. The light of passion that had driven her speech had faded and all he saw now was an emptiness that was a reflection of his own self.

'Take away the man and what do are you left with?'

'Me,' his demon said. 'Now be a good boy and take her.'

'Nothing,' Spike told it. 'I am nothing.'

'You insult me,' his demon sniffed.

“We need each other, Buffy.”

She shook her head. “No we don’t. You just want to confuse me with your lies. How can you need me?” she asked, “when a few hours ago you didn’t even know I existed?”

“Maybe I knew you were out there, and just had to find you.”

“Or maybe you’re just a man with clever words who drips honey from his tongue? And I’m sure the ladies find it all too appealing. Well, I’ve heard it once too often." She turned her face away, but he turned it back.

“And where did you hear it?”

She tried to turn away once more, but he wouldn't let her. “Buffy,” he said. “Look at me and tell me who. " He caught and held her gaze. "There’s a good girl, just keep looking at me and tell me who it was drove you to this.”

'Shall I help?' His demon asked hopefully. 'Her will is far too strong for you.'

'No, I can do this,' Spike told him, brushing the demon away. “Buffy, tell me what I want to know.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I, I just want to understand. Talk to me.”

'Not working, is it?' his demon said.

Spike could see that. She was hovering on the brink, but she wasn’t about to divulge her secret any time soon, and Spike couldn’t ignore his demon for much longer, either. Too much emotion, and it made the man weak. William couldn’t possibly fight it when he felt this overwhelmed. 'Alright, help me,' he said in a desperate tone.

'I thought you would never ask,'' his demon said. 'I’m here for you William, you know that…'

'For heaven’s sake,' Spike screamed silently at it. 'Just stop talking and do it.'

Spike’s eyes glowed yellow. Only very faintly and Buffy’s eyes flared a little wider.

“That’s it,” Spike said in a low voice. “Was it the man with the fair hair?”

“I won’t tell you,” she said quietly and closed her eyes. “You can’t make me.”

Spike took her by the arms and gave her a shake, but she refused to open them.

'You’re supposed to be helping me,' he said to the demon.

'I am,' the demon replied, irritably. 'Try again.'

“Buffy, open your eyes,” Spike commanded her, but instead she just went loose and floppy and sagged back as he held her.

“No,” she said simply. “I’m not afraid of you any more, Spike, because I don’t care what you do to me any more. You have no power over me, no man has.” And with that she sank gracefully against the pillows and just lay there.

'What the hell was that?' Spike shouted at the demon.

'Hell if I know,' his demon shouted back. 'If you’d killed her when I told you to this wouldn’t be happening, it’s your fault.'

'You’re supposed to be the one with all the bloody power,' Spike said running a hand through his hair in frustration. 'I don’t understand, it worked before.'

'That was before you opened yourself up to her you stupid boy. She’s seen your weakness, and she’s a woman. You know what that means, don’t you?'

'Don’t you dare go there,' Spike warned his demon. 'You’re supposed to be helping me here, not raking over old coals.'

'Well, maybe she’s a witch,' his demon said retreating into a sulk.

'Of course she’s not a witch,' Spike said looking dubiously at Buffy’s reclining form. 'Is she? Wouldn’t we be able to tell?'

His demon looked too, peering at the lifeless-looking girl and then retreating again. 'She’s cast a spell on you, hasn’t she?'

'Is that it? Why I’m feeling like this?'

'Why don’t you ask her, you idiot?' his demon said in a voice laced with sarcasm. 'What other explanation could there be other than that you are a pathetic fool, and a sorry excuse for a vampire. One small girl drives you to your knees. Oh well, I suppose it’s not the first time.'

'I said don’t go there,' Spike snarled.

'Cecily,' his demon said.

“No,” Spike shouted, out loud this time. Buffy jumped and he felt her body tense as she prepared herself for him to vent his anger on her. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t be tempted.

'Beneath her? Weren’t those her words?'

“No,” Spike cried out again and this time he flung himself down beside Buffy, picked up a pillow and squashed it against his face. He would quite happily have strangled his demon, who was now sporting a smug smile on its face, right there and then had he been strong enough. He felt Buffy stirring beside him and then what he presumed to be her hand tugging at the pillow, which he held onto even more tightly.

“Spike?” she tugged again, and then he heard the strangest of sounds. Strange not because he’d never heard it before, but because it was most unexpected. She was shaking, he could feel that even though he couldn’t see her, but not with fear. It was laughter he could hear. Hysterical and uncontrolled laughter getting louder and louder by the second. In the end he had to lower the pillow just to see what was so funny. No doubt it was directed at him and his antics, and probably well deserved.

It annoyed him though, to be the butt of the joke from both his demon and her. He sat up abruptly, flinging the pillow aside, but when he turned to her he found that she wasn’t even looking at him. The laughter seemed to be directed at nobody and nothing in particular, yet she shook with it and tears poured down her face. Then she did look at him, stopping momentarily and pointing at the pillow then to his face, and that started her up again.

Spike was at a total loss as to what to do. Now she definitely was laughing at him and he didn’t know whether he ought to be joining in or being angry with her. William had been such a pompous prat, and had taken himself and his abysmal poetry so seriously, that the notion that he was ridiculous enough to have been the cause of hysterical laughter had never once crossed his mind.

Spike saw himself suddenly, scribbling away in a corner, his mind on what he'd always fancied to be loftier things than making idle chit chat at parties. He saw a man who’d spent the best part of a year mooning after a girl who was neither worth the trouble, nor had ever once done him a kind deed, or shown him any affection whatsoever. All he’d succeeded in doing with his poetry and his clumsy advances was to win her contempt.

It was funny, looking back at it now and it did make him laugh. Buffy looked a little startled when he started up and as he wound himself up she quietened down and watched him with narrowed eyes. The laughter was short-lived however because, amusing as it was to view William’s antics from this perspective, it was also very sad. Painfully so, and as so often happens with hysterical laughter, the fine line between that and tears of self-pity is soon breached.

Spike felt himself losing control in a way that he hadn’t done since the night a dark-haired beauty had caught him alone, and distraught, in a stable off a dark alleyway. A night that had changed his life once and for all, he’d thought at the time. But he’d been wrong. It was changing again.

And again, because of a woman.

Tears began to spill and course their way down his cheeks as he realised that becoming a vampire had changed nothing. Try as he might it still came down to this. Him on his hands and knees begging for affection from a woman who couldn’t care less. And even more pathetic because then, he might have said he deserved a little more than Cecily had doled out to him. William had been a good man, even if he couldn’t write poetry to save his life. But Spike? How did he justify asking anything of this woman?

He groped for the pillow to cover his face again, but instead felt himself being pulled towards soft warmth, by gentle hands. He tried to pull away, but she was a lot more successful at taking his will than he’d been with hers, so he gave in and let her hold him.

At that moment, he just felt so tired of it all. The chase, the fear, the kill. Constantly living on the edge. The edge of society, the edge of life, the edge of reason.

'You used to enjoy being a vampire,' his demon said, shaking its head.

“What is it that torments you so, Spike?” Buffy’s voice floated through to his befuddled senses.

'Perhaps it is what you need,' his demon said wrinkling its brow and tilting its head. 'I don’t understand what is happening either, but perhaps it is.'

She pulled him down with her into the mattress and her hand was on his hair, smoothing it back insistently.

“Make love to me, Spike," she whispered into his thick, slicked-back curls. "We’re both lost souls tonight, but perhaps we can take some comfort in each other.”

He tensed sharply at her words and then even more so when she shifted and he felt her circling his cock once more. Two strokes and he was already coming in her hand and he marvelled that it had taken that long. As the spasms subsided she leaned over him and kissed him, first lightly on the lips and then progressing to cover every inch of his face with feather-light touches of her mouth. When she found tears she licked them away with the tip of her tongue and then she made her way across the line of his jaw and down to his throat, where she mimicked his earlier action, and sucked at the skin until he felt the small blood vessels bursting and marking him as he had her.

“You must tell me if I’m doing this right,” she said as her mouth worked its way to his chest in a series of nips and kisses. “Do you like this?”

He almost went hysterical again. “Yes,” he managed at last. "I like it.”

'Too much,' his demon said.

'It’s always been my problem,' Spike told it. 'Just let me have this, please.'

His demon raised its hands in resignation. 'Don’t get too attached,' it warned him. 'They never stay, even if you turn them, they never stay.'

'This is different,' Spike told it. 'I know this is different.'

His demon raised a sceptical eyebrow and withdrew. 'If you need me….'

'I know,' Spike replied. 'Do you think she may be different?' he asked. 'Perhaps she will stay?'

His demon shook its head. 'You always make that mistake my boy. Always assume that all vampires will be like you. Haven’t you realised by now what an exception you are?'

Bloody hell, Spike thought as she reached his stomach and her hair trailed after her hot mouth and tongue. Can’t be a man, can’t be a proper vampire. What the bloody hell am I?

The demon had no answer for him, but maybe this girl who was turning him inside out with the innocence of her touch did? Perhaps she was a witch after all? How else did he explain what was happening to him. He may have been a fool for love, but he’d never been this foolish, had he?

----------------------------------------------------------

It's fitting, she thought. Tonight she seemed doomed to run the gamut of every emotion she’d ever experienced, and some she never had. And whether this was right or wrong had no place in the argument any more. Neither of them had control over the other right now and it was liberating in a way she’d never experienced before. Just then they both had something that the other wanted desperately and, for the first time since she’d met him, it almost allowed them to meet as equals.

There was something more than mere sexual need in the way he responded to her inexpert caresses and he seemed to be reaching out and giving back to her with everything he had.

What is it that he wants? She thought, wondering at his earlier words. I can’t save you from hell, Spike, she thought, as her exploring mouth reached the curly hair surrounding his cock. She sat back and looked at him as he lay half-dazed beside her.

“Tell me what else you want me to do, and help me with this dress, Spike. Would you like me to take it off?”

“Lift you arms,” he said sitting up and reaching for her. The dress came off in one fluid movement and then, without hesitation, he reached for her camisole.

There was only time for a brief moment of modesty before that too floated to the floor and she was naked before him for the first time that evening.

“Lie down,” he said and when she hesitated he added, “please, I want to look at you.”

He wasn’t relaxed, she could see that, and, despite her earlier caresses, he looked tense and his voice carried a hint of anger. She had no idea whether this was directed at her or at his plight, whatever it was. Probably a little of both. I came here to whore for him and all I’ve given him is a monumental headache, she thought, ruefully.

Men didn’t like it when they perceived women to be teasing them and leading them on, she knew that well enough. And it seemed that a woman only had to exist for her to be accused of being the very embodiment of Eve herself, sent to tempt them and destroy their paradise.

“Like this?" She asked him and reclined back against the pillows.

He didn’t move for a long while, just stared at every inch of her, it seemed, all the while making her hotter and hotter with his gaze alone. Then he lifted his hands and, starting with her hair, he traced the whole shape of her body from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. An act of possession, unlike anything else he’d done to her since they’d met.

Not even him locking her in the room had felt as if he’d really had any claim to her, but the way he touched her now, so sure and just a little too hard, sent her as clear a signal as she’d ever heard. And when she did hear it, a shiver ran the length of her body causing him to look deep into her eyes as if to say that they didn’t need words. They both knew how things stood.

He stopped for a moment then, as if he was giving her a choice in the matter.

“Would you like me to continue?" He asked her in a quiet voice.

In response she took his hand and put it back, just below her breast.

“I suppose you’ve received many compliments to your beauty?" he inquired, in an almost conversational tone, as his finger drew a circle around her nipple.

It was hard to focus on coherent thought when he was igniting such a flame in her but she managed a shrug, then nodded. “Yes,” she said, “But I’ve never believed it meant anything. A man will say anything to flatter a woman. There are usually ulterior motives, aren’t there?”

Spike smiled at that. “There are indeed. Anyway, you’re not beautiful.”

“I’m not?” She’d said the words before she could stop herself, vain though it sounded, and couldn’t hide the disappointment in her tone.

“No,” he said simply. “It’s not a good enough word for you. You glow, from the inside, as if you were from another place. Are you sure you’re not a fairy, or something from another world? A witch perhaps?”

“Spike, why should I be a witch? If you desire me, and you just told me yourself that there is nothing wrong with that, why do you seem so intent on blaming your loss of control on me? Have I done anything other than simply be here? Have I deliberately tempted you beyond reason, with imagined promises?”

“Well you did promise me sex, isn't that what you came here for?” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And I haven’t had any yet, so you can understand where I stand on this?”

Having apparently finished his scrutiny, he lay down beside her and pulled her close with an arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t think you brought me here just for that,” she replied.

Hard and soft, cold and hot, man and woman, evil and good, he was the opposite of her in every way.

Except for this strange need that they appeared to have for each other, which was the place where they seemed to meet and merge, and the rules of the real world no longer applied. “The rules changed, did they not?” she said.

“They did, Buffy. But why did you say that, what is it that you won’t tell me? Are you afraid it will give me power over you?”

Buffy felt him start to relax at last. No longer so hard against her, and his hand had moved from her shoulder to slip under her arm so that his fingers just grazed the curve of her breast. Every now and then he let it slip idly down to her waist, and he tickled her and made her squirm, This seemed to amuse him, until she took his hand and placed it back at her breast.

“I prefer this,” she said. “Does it shock you that I’m asking you to do it?”

“No, love” he said, as his fingers complied with her request. “I like the way you play the innocent sex-goddess. It’s what all men look for in a woman. The saintliness of a Madonna in public, and the skills of a high class prostitute in the bedroom.”

“But surely not all men are like that?" she said moving her own hand over his body now, and feeling a different tension building in him, as it was in her.

“I’m afraid so,” he told her and then before she could blink he’d rolled on top of her, his full weight on her and his hand pushing her hair out of her eyes. He held on to a large clump of it as if he were afraid that she would still want to run away even though she was effectively trapped beneath him.

His cock rubbed against the inside of her thigh and everything about him seemed ready to do what he’d been wanting to all evening. She only had to give the word.

“So,” he said. “Some chap’s been hounding you to give it up to him, and when you wouldn’t he’s blamed his obsession on you, told you it’s your fault for being such a tease? Am I right?”

Buffy nodded. How can he know this, is he a mind reader? She thought.

“Wasn’t hard to guess, love. Who was he?” Spike let go of the painful grip he’d had on her hair and pushed it back out of her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “You’ll think me too wicked.”

“I doubt that pet,” he said, and then she felt his fingers between her already wet, folds opening her and making her even wetter. “Will you give it up to me, Buffy?”

She bit her lip as he found a particularly sensitive spot and rubbed at it relentlessly.

“Will it feel like this?” she asked clutching at his hand as he worried her sensitive skin, both trying to hold him off and keep him there at the same time as the ache was almost became unbearable.

“Eventually,” he said with a smile as he batted her hand away. “Give me room to work, woman. It’s going to hurt if it’s your first time. Is it your first time, Buffy?”

“Yes,” she said, a little startled by the bluntness of his words. She had heard that it hurt a woman initially, and that you wouldn't fall with child during the first time either, but hearing him say it, and knowing it was imminent started a panic in her and he seemed to understand what was happening.

“Good,” he said, “and I shouldn’t have said it like that.” He caught her hand as she tried to push him away. “Shh, calm down, I said I’d make it good for you, and I will, soon, but we have to do this first. It will only hurt for a moment, I promise.”

Buffy tried to get her breathing under control as he stared at her.

“First you have to say yes,” he said. And when she opened her mouth to speak, he covered it with his hand so that she couldn’t. “And I’ve already decided to let you go, so don’t ask that. Just tell me exactly what you want, Buffy, and I’ll do it.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you can go now,” he said without altering his expression.

“I think that you must be very good at cards,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“I am,” he replied and his voice was a little thicker now, showing that he didn’t have as much control as his carefully bland expression conveyed. “Do you want us to do this?”

It was the change to the word ‘us’ rather than the ‘I’ and ‘me’ he’d been using all evening that undid her in the end. Before she’d only thought of the act as something to be done to her, and as a whore then that is how it would have been, but now suddenly, it was about the two of them. Not only did she have to decide whether she wanted him to do this to her, she had to decide whether she wanted to do it to him as well. And it was, it seemed, entirely in her hands.

And this virginity of hers was nothing but a liability, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind. If she gave it to Spike, who seemed at least a little concerned about her feelings in the matter, then that other man couldn’t have it. Even if he did find her, it was something he could never take from her.

“Don't make it hurt too much,” she said gritting her teeth and clutching at his shoulders. “I’m ready now.”

“You’ve got to relax, love,” Spike said “It’ll hurt more if you’re tense.”

She took a breath and loosened her hold. “Alright, I’m relaxed.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, “but you’re a brave girl, I can see that. Open your legs and bend your knees for me, my sweet. Pretend I’m him, that man you keep imagining that you see in me.”

“What was he called?” Buffy asked as Spike wriggled his hips into position between her bent legs.

“William,” he said and then she felt his hardness separating and opening her.

She couldn’t help tensing because it did hurt, just as he’d promised. “William,” she gasped. “It’s a nice name.”

Well prepared for him as she was, her insides protested every inch of his intrusion. “Is it always like this?” she said digging her nails into his shoulders and squeezing her eyes shut. “Tell me it won’t always be like this.”

His voice was low and rough when he replied. “No, no, only this first time. Buffy, I promise. Now kiss me.”

She did as she was told, glad of the distraction as his lips took hers. He kissed her with passion, in between murmuring words that were impossible to decipher because at that moment she couldn’t concentrate on anything else but the feel of his hard mouth on hers and the feel of him inside her.

The pain subsided somewhat as he stopped pushing into her and she sighed with relief that the ordeal was over at last. He kept still for a while as he concentrated on the kiss and worked a response from her. She lifted her head to kiss him back and wondered what he would do next. He’d promised her pleasure, and she was more than ready for it. As the pain receded she was beginning to feel the pleasurable tremors that she’d felt earlier when he’d cleaned her foot and touched her down there. It isn’t so bad she thought.

And then he did it.

With one sharp thrust he tore through her maidenhead, and she would have cried out because the pain that had come before was nothing compared to this, but he still had his mouth on hers.

He’s trying to distract me, she thought gratefully and gave herself up to the kiss once more, resolutely ignoring the dull ache that had replaced the sharp pain of his penetration.

“Is it still hurting?” he asked her lifting his head.

“Yes,” she said, “but it’s not so bad, just that bit…”

“When I took your virginity?”

His words made her blush and she turned away, but he turned her back.

“I’ve made you cry,” he said scanning her face.

“And that surprises you?” Buffy replied wiping away the tears herself. “There, they are of no consequence, they’re gone.”

“I’m glad it was me,” he said. “That you gave it to me, and not him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“And you do?” She didn’t say it unkindly and sucked in a breath when he gave a shallow thrust inside her.

“No, no I don’t,” he replied, “but the fact that you let me…” His voice trailed away. “Need to start moving now, love.”

He was still waiting, she realised and he looked at that moment like a man gazing at the face of his salvation. Perhaps God has sent me here to save him, she thought wildly as he moved again, despite his best efforts to keep still.

“Make love to me, Spike,” she said and she saw him narrow his eyes in surprise. He’d been expecting her to call him William, she guessed, as much by his slightly shocked expression as the way he mouthed the word Spike and tilted his head at her. The look on his face was almost one of gratitude as he started to move carefully inside her.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he said as he slipped his hand beneath her hips and lifted her to meet him.

“It does, feel, better,” she said, each word spoken on one of his thrusts. “Just make love to me, William, Spike, and whoever else you have in that head of yours.”

His rhythm faltered momentarily when she said that, and when she looked at him she had the distinct impression of his eyes flashing a golden yellow before turning back to his customary blue. Something else men did when in the throes of passion? She had a lot to learn. Then his mouth slid down to her neck, to where she’d cut herself earlier and he latched onto the small tear and sucked hard.

She felt the mild sting as it opened and there it was again. The aching low down that pulsed in time with his mouth as he sucked on the wound. Then it all became too much. His cock moving inside her, filling her and stroking her most intimate places, his thumb circling the hard secret spot that sent small streaks of lightning radiating through her belly and down her thighs, his greedy mouth pulling at her.

Each one had started as separate and distinct feelings, but soon they melted into a blur of sensation that filled her whole world. That was the point at which she tried to fight him, because she didn’t want to lose herself. But he wasn’t having it and held onto her until it was too late for her to do anything but go with him to the place that only he’d ever taken her.

Heaven or Hell? It felt like a bit of both all mixed together. It both enthralled her and scared her witless, like a place to which you are drawn, despite the fear that you might never come back.

But once you’ve been there, you always want to go back. Even as he rolled from her she was groping for him and asking him not to leave her there alone.

“Shh,” he said. “Not going anywhere pet.”

But he was. She reached for him again as he crawled down her body and rested his head on her thigh.

“There’s blood,” he said, his voice sounding as if it came from a long way away. “Let me clean you up.”

And in keeping with what was turning out to be the most bizarre evening of her life, the only answer she had for him, as his mouth closed on her aching woman-hood was a breathless, “yes.”

tbc...

Any reviews will show up in the Never Just Friends box as I can't work out how to set up a review form, but that's okay, I can move them to One Step Beyond later.....

Chapter 7

Spike had thought that only one of two things might happen as a consequence of his unlocking the bedroom door. She would find it open and leave. Or she would find it open, but choose to stay. For the former he would never see her again and for the latter he would have her here, his willing slave, for as long as he chose to enjoy her.

She shifted against him in her sleep as he held her, possessively, not in the slightest bit inclined to let her go, but for some strange reason feeling compelled to uphold his part of the bargain he'd made with her. He'd told her that he would release her and even if he hadn't said that, he would still have unlocked the door. How else would he ever find out if she would stay of her own accord?

Should she choose to leave then he knew he could catch her easily, and he wondered, as his hand traced the smooth line of her body, just how far he'd actually let her get before he did go after her.

'Setting yourself up for disappointment, my boy,' his demon said. 'What possible reason could she have to stay?'

'This,' Spike said moving his flat palm to her stomach and rubbing light circles, lower and lower until she whimpered in her sleep.

'Ahh, your prowess as a lover? You think she will stay because she will never find any man better than you? You don't know women at all, do you William?'

'She has nothing to compare me with,' Spike said and slipped a finger inside her, watching her face carefully as she woke up. Her mouth formed a small circle as she tipped her head back into the pillows, her legs shifting apart to give him better access.

'See,' Spike said. 'I'll make her want me so much that she'll be my slave and she'll never even think of leaving.'

'All you'll do is make her curious,' the demon said. 'She'll be forever wondering if other men are as well endowed, whether they can perhaps show her more than you have. Women are never satisfied. The more you give them, the more they want.'

'Then I'll just have to make sure she is satisfied,' Spike said moving over her and teasing her with the tip of his cock.

"You like that, don't you love?" He stroked it along her sensitive folds and felt her hips shift restlessly against him. "Would you like me to make love to you again?" he asked as her eyes fluttered open. "Shall I come inside you, Buffy? I'll do it if you ask me."

Buffy bit her lip, but it was only a moment of hesitation and the rest of her body had already made its decision, he could feel that much. He'd slide in easily this time both because she was growing wetter with each of his shallow thrusts and because her virgin barrier was no longer there to hinder either of them.

Spike propped himself on one elbow and used his free hand to caress every part of her he could reach. Every touch sent a shiver the entire length of her body and when he bent his head to kiss her breast, she arched towards him.

"Yes," she said, her lips moving against his hair as he nuzzled into her delicious neck that still held the lingering smell of the blood he'd taken from her. "I'd like you to do it again."

She spoke quietly and a little hesitantly, but Spike put that down to shyness and good breeding rather than fear or resistance. Her hands were roaming his back now, the fingernails scraping lightly as she pulled him to her, her hips rising and falling in time with his movements. He held back, sliding the length of his body against her but leaving her just short of what she wanted.

"Spike?" She lifted her head and looked at him with sleepy eyes. "I said yes."

"How much do you want it, Buffy?" Soft skin quivered under his expert touch and he could taste her desire as he carefully kissed his way down her body. "Tell me how much you want this."

"I don't know," Buffy said. "Please," she wriggled against him, "I want you to do it."

Spike rolled them both so that she was on top, draped over him, her hair tickling his chest as it fell forward over her surprised face. Holding her under the arms he straightened his and lifted her, sliding her down his body so that his cock was nestling against the cleft of her buttocks. Buffy braced her hands on his shoulders and looked at him, a question in her eyes.

"Make love to me," he told her. "Show me how much you want me."

"How?" she asked clearly, at a loss as to what he wanted her to do.

"Like this," he said and lifted her up. "Guide me inside, Buffy, it won't hurt so much this time, I promise."

She did as she was told, much to his relief for his control was rapidly fading under the assault of her arousal. The air was heavy enough with their mingled scents without him having the acute senses of a vampire, and it was a sweet torture having her so near to him when she was like this.

She sank down onto to him and he continued to hold her, letting her down slowly and holding her still when her breath caught between her teeth with a small hiss.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, keeping his urge to thrust up into her firmly in check.

"Just a little sore," she said. "Don't stop."

Her expression was one of earnestness rather than ecstasy as she took him deep inside her. Like a good student who wants to please her teacher by learning everything there is to know.

So he taught her and showed her how to move so that she pleased him and pleasured herself at the same time and she gave him such a look of wide-eyed wonder when she finally fell into a satisfactory rhythm that he almost laughed out loud. The sound died in his throat though as she suddenly reached behind her and took his balls in her hand propelling him into a hard, shuddering climax that had him reaching frantically for her, because he wanted her there with him.

Spike caught her as she fell against him in a slippery, glowing heap and he listened to her laboured breathing and her hammering heart as she came back to earth. His should be labouring too with all this exertion, and her ear was resting right over the centre of his chest, so he pulled her higher and laid her head on the pillow next to him. Much as he liked her as close to him as possible in the blissful aftermath he still hadn't a clue how he was going to explain the real reason for his torment.

'And you never will,' the demon told him, clearly uncomfortable with this tenderness. It retreated as far back as it could go, curling its lip in distaste. 'I'm hungry,' it said.

'You're always hungry,' Spike replied turning his attention back to Buffy who was still breathing heavily beside him. 'Watch and learn,' he told his sulking demon. 'This is how I intend to keep her here.'

"Was it good, Buffy? Did you enjoy doing it like that?"

"I didn't know," she said staring at the ceiling, then rolling her face towards him. "That I could…"

"Be on top?" Spike finished her sentence for her, but she only frowned.

"No, I was going to say that I could make love to you. I'd thought about it, but I didn't know."

"I have a lot more to teach you," he said and lifted a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. The last of the candles sputtered and went out and she jumped at the sudden darkness and clutched at his arm.

"It's alright." He reached for her and gathered her close. "Told you I wasn't going to hurt you. Have I given you further reason to think otherwise?"

Despite his words she still shivered so he stroked her back and murmured soft words of reassurance because he still knew how to do that. Only this time he wasn't lulling an unsuspecting victim into a false sense of security so that he could kill them. He was desperately trying to hold on to this woman who, in a matter of hours had managed to turn his whole existence around.

"I don't like the dark," was all she said in response to his question.

"Then stay close," Spike told her. He pulled the quilt over them both and circled her with his arms. "I'll stand between you and all the creatures of the night," he said. "Just stay close."

"Like a knight in shining armour?"

"If you'd like me to be."

This was a strange and confusing feeling. His demon told him so and he had to agree with it. Not even as William had he felt the urge to protect and defend anyone because he'd never got as far as having anyone to lavish this kind of feeling on. His whole life had been one of the pursuit of unattainable goals. Always running after the prize and never winning it.

But as Spike he'd gone the other way and squandered it all, just because he could. His desire to possess and hold on always being thwarted by his blood lust and his inability to make even another vampire love him for long.

"It would be nice," she said in a wistful tone.

"But?"

"Nothing," she said. "Are there really many ways to make love?"

"There are, Buffy and I'll teach you every one of them. Would you like me to do that?"

"I don't know, Spike. I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am."

"Yes you should," he answered fiercely and tightened his arm so that she squealed. "You were made for this, Buffy. To do this with me and only me. I don't ever want another man to touch you."

"You would set me up as your mistress then?"

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't know what I want, Spike." She sighed deeply, sounding almost disappointed at his offer and rolled her weight away from him.

Spike loosened his arm and let her go. The moment of truth. Did he keep her here under duress or take a chance? And what would a betting man give that he'd win this one?

"The door's unlocked," he said in a voice of quiet resignation. "I've kept my word, you're free to go."

Buffy laughed. Just a small giggle, slightly hysterical, but nothing like the hysteria that had overcome her earlier.

"It's easy for you to make that gesture when you know very well that I cannot go anywhere. Not tonight anyway. What am I to do? Walk back to town in my torn dress, in the dark? And even if I knew the way, how far would I get with my feet in this condition?"

"It will still be unlocked tomorrow," he said resolutely, determined to go through with this now he'd set his course. "You're free to go whenever you're ready."

"But I have nowhere to go, Spike."

"Then stay here, with me." It sounded much too needy so he added, "do I still scare you?"

"A little." It was too dark for her to see him so he let his eyes change momentarily so that he could see her. Sadness and pain clouded her eyes at that moment and he felt another unaccustomed stab of unfamiliar emotion. This time, guilt because he'd added to the terror that had already been there.

"You've got to believe that I would never hurt you then. Could you do that?"

"I want to," she said sadly. "You've no idea how much I want to."

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He said he'd never hurt her, and the words did sound sincere, but she'd witnessed him commit murder with the practiced ease of one who'd done something many times before. There was a dark side that warred with this earnest, young man who gazed at her now with such expectation in his eyes. If she stayed she was taking a great risk, she knew that.

Just then she had no idea who was the seducer and who was the seduced. He led her on with tantalising promises of wicked delights, and she seemed to have the ability to turn him from a vicious killer to a tender lover in the blink of an eye. Both of them appeared to have something the other wanted, or even needed, almost as if fate had put two halves together to make up a complete thing. Spike had seen it right from the start, but she was having a harder time with it. Carnal delights? Satisfaction of the flesh? Is that really all that was keeping her here?

She couldn't even argue that it was the lure of a safe haven that had stopped her from beating the door down with her bare hands and running on crippled feet into the dark night. This place, as yet, offered no guarantees in that direction.

"Spike," she asked him "What do you see when you look at me?"

She could feel him staring at her intently, even in the darkness, before eventually answering.

"A lost soul," he said. "And strength. You have no idea how strong you are, Buffy. But I can see it, and I can feel it."

"You cling to it, Spike, yet strength is something you already have. I don't understand."

"Different kind of strength, love. Yours isn't physical, it comes from the inside, from here." His palm flattened over her heart. "You still have the capacity to love and inspire love."

"And you don't?" Buffy covered his hand with hers.

"What do you see when you look at me, Buffy?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Answer mine first."

Spike's hand shook slightly under hers, and again, she was aware of it. The power she could have over him, should she choose to use it.

"A lost soul too," she said simply. Then added, "No, that's not quite it, more like someone who feels they have lost their soul. Am I right?"

"You are a bloody witch." He pulled back the quilt and kissed the back of her hand, letting his lips linger on each of her fingers in turn. "And I'll never get enough of you," he said working his way across her breast with his mouth, each kiss harder than the next.

"Is this how you intend to keep me here?" The now familiar tingling was already starting low-down, her private parts starting to throb and ache. He only had to touch her for that to happen. She kept herself as still as she could wondering if she could completely resist his assault on her senses, or whether she would always, inevitably capitulate. Spike renewed his efforts at her apparent indifference, but she heard his low laugh in between the icy kisses.

"Can feel it love and hear it. You can't hide it from me. I know how much you want me to do this."

"Perhaps that's true," she managed in a relatively normal voice. "I do want this, but all it means is that I am a wanton tease. And I already know that. It's not enough to keep me here Spike. In fact it gives me more reason to want to leave."

"Why?" Spike lifted his head, a dark shape beside her.

"I could lose myself in these wicked pleasures, forget the outside world exists, but that would be denying everything that I am. You said it yourself," she took his hand and pressed it back over her heart, "this is what matters. This is what endures."

'I knew it,' his demon said. 'So like a woman. You know what she wants, don't you?'

"You want me to tell you I love you?" Spike's voice held a bitterness that she hadn't heard before. He snatched back his hand and rolled away from her. Buffy didn't try to follow him, and when he next spoke it was in a voice of barely controlled anger.

"You want me to say I love you, to cut myself open and lay myself at your feet so that you can laugh at me and trample all over me? Is that what you want? Well, it's tough, you're too late."

Buffy risked touching him and persevered, even though he flinched and she could feel his muscles hard with tension. "Is that why you hide here, in this spooky old house? Was it an affair of the heart that drove you to this?" she asked softly.

He didn't answer and remained stiff under her touch, so she settled her cheek against his shoulder and threaded her fingers into his hair.

"I could stay because I need a place of safety, or I could stay because I like the way you touch me and I want to learn more, but these are not good enough reasons, Spike. I ran away from home because I wanted to remain the master of my own destiny. How can I do that if I just let you keep me here?"

"Damn," Spike said. "A woman capable of intellectual thought."

"Some of us are," Buffy replied with a smile on her lips. "I don't need pretty promises or false declarations. I just need something real. Give me a good reason to stay and then," she let her fingers walk across his chest, "I will also be able to appreciate these other benefits. I do need a place to stay, Spike, but I have no idea what the morning light will bring."

"That's true enough," Spike said.

'Told you it wouldn't work.' His demon added.

"Alright," Spike said. "I do need someone to save me, stay for that."

"Save you from what? I need to know what you're so scared of," Buffy said wishing that she could see in the dark. It was so much easier to know what people wanted when you could see their faces.

"From myself, Buffy."

"You don't like yourself?"

"On the contrary, I do, and that's the problem. You must already know I'm not a very nice person."

"You're a killer, Spike." The words managed to come out quite normally, as if she was making conversation at a tea party and that alone, told her how far she'd come tonight. "Yet, I can trust you enough to be this intimate with you. And intimacy is one of the deepest forms of trust. Why is that?"

"I've no idea. Maybe you can see something that's worth saving? Can you?"

"I wish it wasn't so dark," she said. His voice had such a forlorn edge to it, as if he was grasping vainly at the slenderest of straws. "Tell me your secret, Spike. What is it really?"

"You're not ready to know," he said almost sadly. "Think of the most bizarre thing you could ever hear and then double it. You'd never understand."

"What, are you a ghost?" Buffy ran a finger along his arm. "You feel real enough."

"Yes, I'm a ghost love, just a shadow of who I was. And you haven't told me your secret yet? Are you going to do that?" He laughed. "I could be harbouring a murderer under my roof. What are you running from, really?"

"Would you mind if I was, a murderer?" Buffy asked him.

"No, don't care what you've done, but at least you could tell me. Bloody annoying that you won't."

Buffy had to laugh then. He sounded so much like a sulky little boy that she could just imagine the expression on his face at that moment.

"I owe you that, I suppose." He was softening as they spoke and she continued stroking his hair because he seemed to be enjoying it, and it calmed him. "But when you hear this you are going to think me terribly wanton and wicked."

"I'm going to ruin you anyway, love. Tell me."

"First tell me there wasn't really a man asking after me in the tavern."

"There wasn't, now tell me."

Buffy took a breath and suddenly the story didn't sound like it was hers any more. The outside world had receded, in just a few hours, to such an extent that she didn't feel anything like the Buffy Summers that had left home in such a panic less than a week ago.

"He was my brother." Now she was glad of the dark and the speech she'd made about going to hell came back to her. "The man who caused me to run away."

Spike shifted so that he was facing her. "Your brother?"

"Yes," she replied in a shame-laden voice. It was a long time before she could continue with the tale and when she did it was in a voice that was barely there. "He finished his studies at Cambridge last month and came home. From the moment he arrived he seemed to think of nothing else, but…" Her voice trailed away because she couldn't say it. Spike had no problem with it though.

"Bastard wanted to get up your skirts," he said. "Don't feel ashamed, Buffy. Not your fault if the bugger can't keep it still. Why didn't you just tell your parents?"

"Tell them what? That their precious son wanted to bed his sister? My brother is a golden child who can do no wrong and my father is a Bishop. How would it have looked to raise such a scandal?"

"So you're saying they would have blamed you?"

"And they would have been partly right."

Spike raised himself so that he was propped on one elbow and as she lay staring into the darkness, fiddling with a lock of her hair as she composed herself enough to continue with her shameful story. He'd sounded anything but shocked so far, but now, that didn't surprise her. How could anything shock you when you'd taken a human life? This must sound so trivial to him as to be hardly worth bothering about.

The curtains were carefully drawn but she could see that dawn was approaching in the weak light that filtered around the edges of them. Things always seemed so different at night and she wondered what the morning light really was going to bring.

"When we were young," she continued, because he might as well know the whole sordid story. He of all people seemed least likely to judge her on it. "We played games. Intimate games. Just…touching and looking. Neither of us knew it was wrong until one of the servants caught us. Told us we were going to hell, no mistake, but that he could save us if we found him money to pay off the devil."

Spike laughed out loud at this point, then stopped abruptly as if he'd only just realised that it was totally inappropriate. "Sorry about that," he said. "Carry on."

His laugh took some of the drama out of her speech, and surprisingly made her view the whole incident with completely different eyes. Nursing it all of her life had only amplified the shame, but now she could see it for what it was.

"You're right to laugh, Spike, for it's a pathetic tale, is it not?"

"No," Spike's mouth found hers in a lingering kiss. "I shouldn't have laughed," he said when he finally pulled away. "Just have a strange sense of humour, that's all. Continue."

His kisses always seemed to last longer than the actual physical contact and even though he wasn't doing it any more, she could still feel his lips on hers. It was most disconcerting.

"I was eleven and he was twelve. Can you imagine how terrified we were? My brother gave that servant his whole allowance for a year, until the servant decided we'd paid for our redemption."

"And you? What did you give?"

"He took me into the barn and did exactly the same as my brother had been. And I endured it because I really did think the devil was coming for me. See how naïve I was?"

"Seems pretty normal to me," Spike said. "Show me yours, I'll show you mine, all children play that at some time. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Did you?" she asked him.

"Well, no," he said, "but I would have if anyone had asked. Probably," he added.

"But why wasn't that the end of it? My brother went away to school soon after that, but every holiday was the same, he just wouldn't leave me alone. I did nothing to encourage him further, you must believe that, until a few weeks ago he came into my bedroom and tried to force himself on me, so that's why I ran away."

Spike didn't answer. Instead he took a long moment to kiss every part of her face as thoroughly as he possibly could. Only when he was satisfied did he speak.

"Sounds like a big bag of wind to me. How much of a danger is he really?"

"He said he'd kill me before another man had me. And I think he meant it, he's always had a little madness in him."

"Well, I guess that cat's out of the bag then," Spike said, "Got to go through me to get to you now, love. Is that the only reason you let me make love to you, so he couldn't have what he wanted?"

"It's part of the reason, Spike. But only part of the reason. Are you not shocked then?"

"Not in the slightest. But it does seem that you need somewhere to stay, and why become a prostitute if that sort of thing was what you were running from in the first place?"

"Desperation will drive us to do things, I couldn't get a job as a governess without references and what else could I do? I'd hardly eaten in three days before you found me in the tavern. I just decided I might as well…"

"Become a self-fulfilling prophecy? You're better than that, love, even if you try to tell yourself you're not. Will you stay? Have I convinced you enough yet?"

Buffy sighed under his wandering hands wanting nothing more at that moment than to remain there, in that bed and just have him touch her for the rest of her life.

"Let me go," she said her words making him clutch painfully at her side. "I can't go far, not with my feet like this, and I promise I'll come back," she said. "I just need some time alone, to think, away from this room." She touched his hand. "Do you trust me to come back?"

Spike let go of her and in the early morning light that was brightening the room more and more his features looked strange and distorted. He quickly hid his face from her. "Don't talk to anyone," he said in a strange, lisping voice.

"I will come back, I promise. Do you have any staff that I might meet? Will they know I'm here?"

"Just don't talk to anyone," Spike replied as she slid from the bed. "Promise me that, and you can go."

She pulled on her dress as best she could, but it didn't look very decent so she picked up Spike's jacket and put that on too. His face was still hidden in the pillows and she fancied that she saw him trembling.

At what? She thought. Because I'm going to leave? Would he really keep his word and let me go? Will I keep mine and come back?

Her cut feet were desperately painful to walk on, more so than she'd imagined them to be, and she knew she would possibly only manage to leave the room before they became too painful to walk on, but she needed this. To distance herself from this persuasive young man who seemed to be weaving a spell on her and mesmerising her with his skilled hands, his sensual and very talented mouth and his erotic words.

Because she knew that if she stayed a moment longer, she'd never want to leave.

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Spike finally managed to shake off his demon. He needed to follow her mainly because there was danger in the house, and things that she didn't need to see. His minions were under pain of death to touch anyone he brought back, but they were vampires and the lure of a young human walking around had proved too much for them in the past. And the coachman had been one of his more successful turnings. Didn't want to have to stake the man now, especially since he'd been the only one to stay.

'Go after her,' his demon urged. 'Do you really think she'll come back?'

'How far do you think she'll get?' Spike said picking up his trousers. He dressed quickly, surprised at the agitated state of his demon.

'Didn't think you cared either way,' he said and put his ear to the door. She was still outside, he could hear her heartbeat and smell her.

'I don't care,' his demon snapped back, 'but her blood, I have to admit, it was like nothing I've ever tasted. We would like to sample more of it.'

'You sure that's all it is?' Spike asked it as he listened.

'I have no idea what you mean,' the demon replied. 'Kill her or turn her, that's the only advice you'll get from me on this matter."

'Or keep her alive and just bleed her?' Spike opened the door and scanned the corridor, then he slipped out and followed her trail.

'Perhaps we might indulge ourselves,' his demon said grudgingly. 'But the inevitable conclusion must come, you do know that?'

'Shh,' Spike told it. 'Have to concentrate, and need to stay in human face so leave me alone, please.'

'Make sure she doesn't go down to the cellar,' the demon cautioned him before retreating.

The cellar? No, Spike thought. She definitely didn't need to go down to the cellar.

Apart from her own unique scent, she was leaving behind her a minute trail of blood from her feet and Spike knew that he could track her from that as from anything else. And he could hear the painful gasps coming from her mouth as she hobbled away. Possibly the most determined person he'd ever met, he thought with a smile and he wished that he'd met her when he was still plain William. But would William have ever had the courage to even talk to such a dazzling creature? Let alone court her, and bed her. And even if he had, would Buffy have ever looked at him twice?

Surprisingly he thought that maybe she would. She was no Cecily, that was for sure.

Buffy made her way downstairs and Spike followed silently, watching as she tried each door in turn, including the cellar which thankfully had been locked, and finally let herself into the library. The curtains were drawn here, as they were in the rest of the house and she took a moment to open them before sitting herself down with a grateful sigh. He watched as she inspected the soles of her feet, then swung her legs up on to the couch and leaned back against its arm. Silently moving away until he was out of sight, he slid down the wall, and with his arms about his legs and his chin resting on his knees he waited for her.

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Go, or stay? She'd promised to return and she should for that reason alone. Hadn't she always been a woman of her word? Had that changed now that she was out in the world with all its harsh reality?

<i>Can I afford scruples if I am to survive?</i> She asked herself.

Something was calling her back upstairs, to him, but what exactly? She closed her eyes and tried to pin-point it.

<i>Was it just the way he grabbed hold of me when I asked if I could go? The way he looked at me as if I was his very salvation? The way he touched me and made sweet love to me? His darkness?</i>

She suspected it was a mixture of all of these things. All the elements that made up the unique person that was Spike that, for some reason she couldn't define, drew her irresistibly to him. And this could be a safe place to hide, she'd seen how remote it was with its large grounds, as she'd looked out of the window.

The house seemed large and comfortably furnished, although she couldn't understand why there were no servants around at this time of the morning. At home, they would already be scurrying around cleaning out the ashes and preparing breakfast before the household woke up. Here the atmosphere was as it had been upstairs, heavy and still and not to a sound to be heard. The grates were clean with no sign of recent fires and the kitchen had been empty. The curtains of every room were drawn, leaving them all in shade and some of the furniture was still covered in dust sheets, as if whoever lived here had tried to come back, or even tried to leave, but had done neither. The house felt as if it was waiting for something, as if time itself had ceased to exist, because it didn't have to any more.

She pulled Spike's jacket about her as the thought made her shiver. A haunted house? If ever there was one, then this was it. She'd read lurid stories about people who'd died and not realised it. Perhaps that had happened to her and she was a ghost too, doomed to spend forever trapped in this house, with him?

The thought caused such a panic in her that she rose and made her way to the door, determined to go back upstairs simply so that she wouldn't be alone. Once the thought of ghosts and spectres has invaded your mind then you see them everywhere and such was the case as she opened the door and peered out, then looked back over her shoulder because she couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being followed. With her head down and going as fast as her injured feet would let her she half ran for the stairs, but walked instead into something hard and cold that almost knocked her over.

His hand was already over her mouth, stopping the scream that she'd only half uttered, before she realised it was Spike.

"Shh," he said. "It's alright, it's only me."

It took a moment for her to turn her brain around. First she was fighting him and pushing him away, thinking him to be one of the very spectres she'd been fantasising about, and the next she was grabbing hold of his shirt and half-crying with relief.

"You scared me," she said burying her face into his chest and breathing steadily to calm herself down. "You scared me."

"Sorry about that." He spoke quietly, his voice soothing, then he hooked his arm under her knees and picked her up. "You shouldn't be walking," he said sternly.

"It was painful," she admitted glad to be off her feet at last. "And I was coming back, Spike."

"I know," he said and kicked open the door of the nearest room. It was a sitting room and furnished in the typically cluttered Victorian style, lacking only the aspidistras and exotic plants, which was oddly fitting in this house that seemed dead.

"I missed you," he said as he set her down on the sofa. Then he fell to his knees in front of her and picked up each of her feet in turn and inspected them.

"You've made them bleed," he said, rubbing his finger lightly across one of the cuts and then licking it clean. "Silly girl."

"You like the taste of blood?" she observed in an almost conversational manner, because she was rapidly getting to the stage where nothing he did surprised her any more.

"You've noticed," he said in the same tone. "Do you?" He did it again, wiped his finger along another cut then brought it to his lips. Slowly and very deliberately he sucked it into his mouth, while she watched, wide-eyed.

Buffy swallowed hard, as Spike withdrew his finger just as slowly, the look on his face one of pure ecstasy. "I don't know," was all she could think of to say. She giggled nervously. "I have an aunt who suffers from hysterical weakness and the doctor told her to go to the abattoir and drink fresh pigs blood. She said it wasn't very nice."

"Did she now."

Spike reached for her hand, pinning her with his gaze so that she couldn't move. It was odd, this way he had of looking at her that seemed to hold her in place. If she wasn't prepared for it he could stop her in her tracks, like a fairground magician. He felt along her fingertips until he found the longest nail, then he placed it on the inside of his wrist and pressed down hard.

She wanted to protest. It had to be hurting him, although his expression showed nothing but pleasure as she cut him, and a thin line of blood formed and beaded into a droplet which he scraped up with the tip of his finger. She really did want to protest, but the words wouldn't come. Instead she found herself moving towards the blooded finger he offered her, her mouth opening and already anticipating the illicit thrill of it.

"Yours is sweet and thick," he said. "Here, taste mine." Then he mimicked his earlier action and very slowly pushed his finger into her mouth. "Keep looking at me. Buffy, there's a good girl."

Buffy heard his low hypnotic voice and felt the finger that moved so suggestively against her teeth and gums. And she felt her cheeks hollow as she sucked at it. It wasn't the nicest thing she'd ever tasted, but the way he moved his finger in and out of her mouth reminded her so much of something else that he'd done to her, that she actually felt it. The tingling and aching again, in her private parts, that seemed to have been the focus of so much attention since she'd met Spike.

Could you become addicted to this? she thought, lying back into the soft cushions of the couch and opening her legs as he withdrew his finger and leaned back to unbutton his trousers. It was her hand pulling up her skirts as he slid her towards the edge and knelt up to meet her. Her hands on his head pulling him greedily to her, while his slipped under her bottom and lifted her.

Neither of them spoke because already they'd established their own language for this. The set of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes told her exactly what she was giving him. Something that he'd lost and was desperate to find again. And when he filled her he gave her a part of herself that she hadn't known existed.

This couldn't be Buffy, this woman who was lying here, her arms flung over her head, her body moving in time to his hard thrusts, meeting every one of them, matching the rising cadence of his groans with sounds of her own. Sounds she hardly recognised.

"Going to ruin you, Buffy," he said as he came, "ruin you for any other man."

Spike slipped out of her, sitting back on his heels, his face on her stomach, his hands gripping her thighs, and Buffy sat up, with difficulty because she seemed to have no energy left, and draped herself over him. Cradling his head in her arms, she listened to his silent worship and wondered how any other man could ever match this.

It was a slippery slope. As he moved towards her light, she was inevitably drawn towards his darkness and somewhere they were destined to meet. Somewhere in the middle where black and white became so many shades of grey. Where the distinction between right and wrong blurred and went so out of focus that it was impossible to make judgements any more.

Hell seemed determined to have her, one way or another. She kissed his hair and he lifted his head, hooked his arm around the back of her head and kissed her hard, on the mouth. Blood from his cut wrist smeared her cheek as he held her and he slid his mouth across and licked it off. Then he kissed her again, with bloodstained lips, and the sharp, metallic tang of him invaded her senses, and his dangerous invitation overwhelmed all her reason.

"Stay with me," he said. "Say you'll stay."

Darkness and light. They meet at dusk and again at dawn, merging and consuming, then changing into the other. And she had to ask herself, if she stayed, how much of Buffy would be left at the end of it?

Tbc….