26. Red rain is falling down all over me.

Sensations sweet,
felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
William Wordsworth, lines completed a few miles above Tintern Abbey

Your hand found mine.
Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot.
Oh, my carpenter,
the fingers are rebuilt.
Anne Sexton, The Touch


By the time Xander, Anya and Dawn returned to the Magic Shop, four bags of O negative and additional supplies in hand, Spike was laid out on the couch in the training room, Buffy was sitting on the floor next to him, with Giles and Tara cleaning up the mess in the main area. The trail of blood that had dried up was easy to flake off the floor, but the wet stuff pooled under the chair was a bit harder to clean up. Spike was out cold, Buffy not much better and strangely enough, Giles wasn’t in the least bit upset with what had happened. Wasn’t like he planned it, wasn’t like he’d been trying to bite her, it was a reflex action, done in the throes of pain, and given the amount of pain he already was in, Giles wasn’t surprised when the chip’s reaction was masked. It had been, however, despite Tara’s best efforts to put the vampire to sleep, the last straw that knocked him out.

They’d moved him, checking his injuries after he ingested slayer’s blood. The leg wounds and the minor bites on his legs were closed up, disappearing as they watched, and the gaping wounds on his hand had stopped bleeding finally. He’d not taken a lot of blood from Buffy, as near as Giles could tell, but she was still reeling from the after-effects. On wobbly knees, she’d followed him into the training room, slumping down next to the couch.

Giles and Tara worked in silence, both of them wrapped up in their own thoughts. Tara’d never seen Spike awake and in so much pain, she’d not seen him after Glory’s beating until almost a week later and he’d already been on the road to recovery. This was the first time she’d ever seen him badly injured. His hand looked like it had been fed through a meat grinder improperly, and only then because the fingers were still discernable. She’d nearly thrown up just looking at it.

But she’d helped him, as best she could, with her poor magics, hoping that the healing spell she’d woven around him would work, aided by Buffy’s blood.

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

She should be really upset with him, with herself. And yet, she almost couldn’t bring herself to care. Oh, not true, not really. He’d needed the healing – needed it like the rest of them needed air – and instinctively, he’d moved to take it, without thinking. But she’d heard him whimper in pain when he’d sunk his teeth into her skin, felt his tears on her shoulder and something inside her couldn’t blame him. So it wasn’t life threatening. But what good was a vampire warrior with one hand? What good would it be to further hamper an already handicapped warrior? None at all.

A damaged Spike was a Spike that couldn’t help her, couldn’t fight. And she knew, as well as she knew herself that him losing the use of one of his hands would be damaging to his spirit beyond repair. He needed the fight, needed something to feel useful.

So she’d just held on tighter. Held him close to her chest, let his tears drip down her shoulder, mixing with the blood he couldn’t swallow. And never realized her own tears had slid down her face.

Despite her best efforts not to, she compared his bite to that of the other vampires who’d come close enough to her to get a taste. Only one of them had she offered herself to willingly, until now. While it had started out as an accident, Buffy wasn’t sorry he’d done it. Angel, in the midst of his own life-threatening crisis had bitten hard, nearly draining her, and causing no little amount of pain. The others didn’t really count, the Master and Dracula, because they’d gotten no more than just a little taste. But Spike, injured and out of it, hadn’t drained her at all, instead had cried when he realized what he’d done. That he’d slipped into unconsciousness almost immediately after clamping down was immaterial. She’d felt his tears, felt his remorse.

Huh.

Spike hadn’t wanted to bite her.

A vampire that didn’t want slayer’s blood. The Slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody, didn’t want her blood. Part of her was just a little miffed, but far more of her understood why he’d reacted the way he did. They’d come to far in the past couple of years to make this really simple. Despite all his attempts to kill her, despite their many close calls, this was the first time Spike had gotten a taste of her.

But the weirdest thing of all wasn’t that she understood his involuntary reaction to the pain, but that she was upset when he’d cried.

So was she angry? The answer was no.

Was she upset that he’d bitten her? Again no.

Was this as bad as what had happened to Angel?

Nearly so. In this time, in this place. Yeah it was just about the same. So, was she going to threaten him with further pain just to satisfy a non-existent need for revenge?

Not anytime soon.

Did she trust him? Yeah.

Did she trust him enough? Oh yeah.

He’d bitten her, on her shoulder, not her neck, which was just as close, and had more blood available. Hell, her jugular veins and carotid arteries were there, all within striking reach, and as a vampire he knew that better than anyone else. And what had he gone for? Her shoulder.

So yeah, she trusted him. Trusted him enough to offer more. Because if he wanted to use that hand any time in the next couple of weeks, she was going to have to donate. And she didn’t feel like bleeding drip by drip into a cup for him either.

She leaned against his chest, watching him. The clean white of the bandages was a stark contrast to his black tee shirt. They’d elevated his badly damaged right hand, propping it against the back of the couch. His left hand was across his chest, and as she watched him, it twitched a couple of times, then was still.

“Spike” she whispered, “can you hear me?” His hand twitched again, almost in agitation and she tried again to reach him. “Its okay. Well, I mean its not really okay, but its not bad. I understand why you did it and I’m not gonna dust you, not even gonna get mad. I could, but, no point. So you can wake up now and I’m babbling” Buffy huffed, exasperated with herself. “Really. I’m not gonna stake you. Giles isn’t either. So its all good. C’mon Spike wake up and talk to me.”

“Would, but you’re natterin’ on well enough for both of us” he spoke without opening his eyes, afraid to look at her and see disgust and anger in her hazel green depths.

“Hah” oh that’s just brilliant babble-girl . . . Can’t you come up with something a little more intelligent? Buffy grew serious seeing that he wouldn’t face her. “Hey, its really okay. You were in pain and just couldn’t control it so much” she paused, running a hand over his forearm. “How’s your head now?”

“Throbbing in thirds to the hand” was his sardonic reply.

They were silent for a moment, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. When he spoke, Buffy was surprised. “I’ll leave soon as I’m healed up. Get away so you don’t have to take care of it.”

Took her more than a minute to catch on, but when she did, her hand clenched around his forearm, digging into his skin.

“Leave? Why would you?” Shaking her head in denial, Buffy said “no. No. Don’t. Why?”

“Bit you sunshine, didn’t mean to, but did it all the same.” Still with his eyes closed, Spike turned his face away, into the back of the couch.

Thinking to herself very deeply for a moment, Buffy came to a very swift decision. She was the only one who could change his mind, and she knew he was doing this out of some misguided sense of nobility.

Reaching for his injured hand, Buffy began to undo the gauze wrappings, revealing his mangled flesh. Her blood had worked miracles, because the wounds didn’t look nearly as bad as they had earlier, but there was still a long way to go before he could use it again, the damage was just too extensive for the little bit of her blood he’d managed to swallow down.

His fingers twitched as the air hit them and Spike finally opened his eyes to see what she was doing. Buffy had sat up on the couch, next to his hips, his injured hand now cradled in both of hers.

“You know, slayer blood is the best healing agent for vampires” she began conversationally, “Giles never mentioned it, not until Faith poisoned Angel and then hid the antidote.”

“If you drink enough of it,” she continued, “it will heal almost fatal injuries.” She paused long enough for him to glance at her face. “And it works really well on not-so-fatal ones.”

Spike just continued to watch her, not really sure where she was going with this, but unable to turn away.

“Thing is, I was planning on offering you some anyway.”

“Slayer” he growled. “What are you sayin?”

“I think its pretty plain. This hand wouldn’t heal for weeks, even with regular human blood.” She stared straight into his eyes, willing him to understand. “I can’t let you go. I need you . . . need your help. Not ready to do this on my own yet.”

It was as much of an admission as she was willing to give. But he got it, like he always did. He always knew her, sometimes better than she knew herself. Without a word, Spike pulled her down, her head resting against his still chest.

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

He must have passed out again, because when he came to Tara was re-bandaging his hand. Seeing he was awake again, she spoke. “Dawn brought back some splints, so I figured it was best to do that while you were out. Do you feel any better?”

Snorting a “no” at her, Spike tried to sit up.

“Don’t get up yet. I’ve got some blood for you. You want it now?”

“How’s Buffy?” was her only answer.

“If I tell you she’s fine will you believe me and drink?”

There was a twinkle in his eye, as he said “you gonna answer me with questions until I say yes?”

Tara’s eyes glinted back with equal mischief “probably. You gonna believe me?”

He couldn’t help but respond, smiling back at her. “All right pet, gimme the goods.”

Holding the cup for him, Tara started speaking again. “She’s worried about you. Otherwise she’s fine. She changed her shirt for one of yours that got left here.”

At his raised eyebrows, Tara smiled a bit. “She didn’t want Xander getting stupid about it. They brought back four bags of O neg.” Looking down at the drained cup, she asked, “want another one?”

“Please pet” as she got up to leave, he touched her hand “thanks Tara.”

“When you’re feeling better, I have a problem that I’d like your advice on, if its okay?” She looked away afraid he would reject her.

“Anything. Anytime.” Spike settled back against the couch, trying to will away the pain.

He opened his eyes when he heard footsteps nearing, knowing who it was before she spoke.

“‘Lo Niblet. Come to check on me?”

“How do you feel?” There was real concern in her voice and a trace of tears as well.

“‘ve been better. Also been worse.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable.

Dawn put down the cup of blood, moving to help him. “Okay now?”

“Yeah much better.” Catching her face in his hand, Spike looked into her eyes. “Hey, Bit, I’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

“Promise?” She sniffed a bit.

“Promise” pausing a moment, he mock pouted, “where’s m’treat?”

“Oh. Oh. Right here.”

Handing it to him, she unintentionally eased his current biggest fear. “Buffy wanted to bring it in, but I whined enough to get my way. She’s worried about you” pausing barely long enough to breathe, she went on “Giles is making with the books, he’s narrowed it down, well he’s pretty sure he has, but he’s been like wanting your opinion and Buffy’s like ‘no, he needs to rest it can wait until later’ and Giles was like ‘but Buffy this is important’ and Xander popped up with something like ‘he’s a demon, he’ll be fine with what rest he’s gotten’ and then Buffy got mad at Xander and what’s with you and my sister?”

It took Spike more than a minute to catch up with everything she’d said, and longer than that to come up with an answer to her question.

“Why do you ask?” Spike figured he could buy himself a little more time, but catching sight of the look on her face, he had to re-think that.

“Spike. I saw you earlier, before you guys all left. You wanted to kiss her goodby and she wanted to let you.”

“Brat. Spyin isn’t nice.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Spying? Duh. You guys were like in plain sight.” She poked his chest playfully. “As in not behind closed doors. Fair game for peeking. So?”

Christ she was like a dog with a bone. Not giving up at all. “What of it?”

“Just wanna know. Did you? Wanna kiss my sister?” Her face was, for the moment, unreadable.

Bringing the cup to his lips, Spike muttered “yeah. Did. Do.”

“Good. She needs it.”

And with that she left him alone.

Bloody brat.

He didn’t realize that the sister in question had been standing in the doorway until her voice broke through his confused musings.

“She did nearly the same thing to me just now in the bathroom.”

“Did she now?”

“Yeah. Cept she asked me if I wanted to kiss you back.” Buffy sat down on the couch, her butt up against his legs.

“And you told her?”

“My answer was a little different from yours.”

“Oh”

She could hear the disappointment, didn’t need to see it. “Yeah. I told her that I needed to kiss you back.”

“Wha?” His pleasure was sweet to hear.

“Yeah. Just like I need to right now.” And she did.

Pulling back, Buffy said, “I actually came in to ask if you’re up to heading home. Giles has found out what it was – the dogs – and he’s going to do a bit more research at home, and” she sighed “I’m babbling again.”

“Yeah you are sunshine, but its precious. Go on, and?”

“I thought you’d be more comfy at home.”

“Yeah, would work. Couch is good but a bed would be nicer.”

Spike moved to get up, and Buffy’s arms were there to help him. Her next words were spoken so softly he thought he imagined them until he caught the look on her face.

“Wanna do this in private anyway.”

27. Softly to swim inside your veins

Do you hunger for this
The bliss of a sweet kiss
Shanghai'ed on a locust flight
The thirst of a vampire bite
Fills the emptiness inside
Consuming everything green-eyed
We Hunger
Siouxsie and the Banshees, We Hunger, from the album Hyaena


He thought about what she’d said on the short ride home. They’d piled into Xander’s car, Spike stretched out in the back with Buffy and Tara, while Dawn was up front with the other two. He didn’t have much else to think about, other than pain. He refused to think about the information Giles had given him – ‘hellhounds indeed’ and so focused on Buffy’s somewhat cryptic words.

She couldn’t possibly mean what he was hoping she meant.

The house they all thought of as home was dark, no lights on at all. Tara murmured something about no one being home and looked away. Spike suddenly wondered if what she wanted to talk to him about had to do with Willow and was glad she’d said she would wait until he was a bit better. He had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t be able to give her much positive help in any case.

They piled out of the car, trying not to jar his already throbbing hand. Didn’t matter that healing had already started, the damned thing hurt like bloody hell. Every motion of the car set it off, even as Buffy held it for him.

He made it up the steps under his own power, just barely. Absently he headed for the basement, when Buffy’s voice and hands directed him upwards. “C’mon upstairs.”

Like it was natural. Like this was normal.

Neither one of the other two even flinched, Dawn already on her way up the stairs and Tara moving toward the kitchen, saying, “I’m just gonna put these in the fridge.”

And up they went, Spike trailing behind Buffy like a wounded puppy.


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


Tara waited downstairs until the sound of their footsteps retreated. She didn’t want to go upstairs and find Willow in their bed like nothing was wrong between them.

She’d had a really good day with Dawn, had even enjoyed patrolling with the Buffybot, at least until Spike had gotten hurt.

And she hadn’t said anything about the deer scent she’d created, lasting long enough and strong enough to get the hounds away from Spike. Even though both Anya and Giles had looked at her kind of funny. She didn’t need to brag, she was just trying to help.

Tara suppressed a sudden chill. That’s what Willow kept saying – she was just trying to help. Was it the same thing? Was this how it all got started for Willow? How things started to go bad? Just wanting to help?

An image of Gaia entered her mind, of how the mother had looked at her. The echoed murmur of her blessing still rang in her ears and that doubt within her was eased. Tara wasn’t ever going to doubt that connection, that faith. It was unshakeable.

What she had done tonight for Spike wasn’t something that was going to start her on a slippery slide to badness. Heck, she hadn’t even been sure it was going to work, not until first one dog, then all of them had lifted their heads and howled. As it was, all she’d done was send a quick prayer to Artemis, and picture a deer in her head.

Apparently, that had been more than enough.

Tara really didn’t want to think that the same trick might not work twice.

Sighing again, Tara made sure all the doors were locked and then went to fetch a pair of Spike’s much hated sweatpants.


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

Dawn had gotten ready for bed in record time, then sped to Buffy’s room. Knocking on the door, she slipped inside just as her sister was moving to take off Spike’s boots.

He was laying cross-wise on the bed, his head closest to the windows. “Do you need anything before I go to sleep?”

Buffy had stopped unlacing his boots when she entered, then continued when it was clear Dawn was just trying to be helpful.

“I’m good.” Buffy got the first boot off, then had trouble with the knot on the second. “Oh, Spike, you want anything?”

“Painkillers. Whiskey. Nuthin else” was his terse reply from behind clenched teeth.

“I’ll be right back.” And Dawn was gone in a flash of long brown hair.

Finally getting the knot undone and both boots off, Buffy sat on the edge of the bed near him. “Shirt or jeans first?”

“Shirt. Nuthin’ on under m’jeans” he slurred.

There was no comment she could make to that statement that wasn’t going to sound like a come on. Actually, there wasn’t anything she could think that wasn’t one either.

“Okay. Sit up” and suiting action to words, Buffy helped him up.

It wasn’t much of a struggle, since he was awake and helping, but it was difficult getting him out of the tee shirt. Grunting just a little, Buffy muttered, “you might want to think about expanding your wardrobe when we have time to shop.”

If he wasn’t in the grip of enormous pain, he might’ve made a comment about how very coupley that sounded, but instead he let it go and just grunted and groaned.

Laying back on the bed, Spike panted out, “gimme a minute before we tackle the rest, yeah?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’m gonna get changed.”

Just barely turning her back on him, Buffy abruptly decided to leave his tee shirt on and slid out of her shoes and jeans. She waited for a comment from him and when none was forthcoming, she turned to look at him.

He was watching her, a look on his face somewhere between pleasure and pain across his features.

His shirt. She was wearing his shirt and damned little else.

“You are beautiful” he breathed out, unable to think of something more profound to say.

It seemed to be enough, because she blushed, making her even more beautiful.

A knock on the door broke their silence, and Tara’s voice on the other side caught their attention “Buffy?”

“Yeah?” She stood there silent, her mind blank. “Um, yeah?”

Opening the door a bit, Tara peeked in “I brought some sweats for Spike.”

At Buffy’s questioning gaze, Tara blushingly confessed, “been doing his wash for months.”

And that was enough explanation.

Before anyone had a chance to comment, Dawn’s voice came from the hallway. “Coming in. Got extra-strength Tylenol and um . . . a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of Glensomething or other. Looks like a demon language.”

“Its Scots Gaelic pet, not demonic.” Spike laughed a bit, despite his pain. Dawn was cute when she wanted to be.

Lifting up, Spike found himself surrounded by three concerned females. Buffy was immediately on the bed behind him, bracing his back, while Tara reached for his left arm. Dawn, not knowing what to do, stood there, juggling bottles of whiskey and painkillers.

“‘m dead and gone to heaven, right?” His voice was strained and tired from the pain.

“You are dead, but heaven?” There was real amusement in Tara’s voice.

“Surrounded by beautiful girls. Must’ve done somethin’ right.”

Tara giggled, catching sight of the look on Buffy’s face. “Beautiful?”

“Yup. Beautiful. All three of you.”

Dawn rolled her eyes, then winked at the other two, “and who’s the prettiest one of all?”

“Ah, Niblet, not gonna play Paris for you.” Spike leaned back against Buffy, his head resting on her shoulder. “You are all beautiful, m’girls.”

Holding out the whiskey, Dawn asked again “who’s prettiest?”

“Dawnie, don’t tease him.” Tara’s voice sounded so motherly that they all looked at her.

Giving in, Dawn handed him the Jack Daniels then popped open the Tylenol to give him a handful. Moving quickly, Tara got the teenager out of the room. Murmuring “goodnights” the pair closed the door behind them and burst into giggles.

They were alone. Finally.

Buffy climbed off the bed, holding Spike steady with one hand. Stopping her, he said “I’ll manage alone. Go brush your teeth or somethin’.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can’t do this one handed.” She stood in front of him now, her hands on her hips, just surveying his state.

He couldn’t really say anything. She was determined on this. Way he felt right now, wouldn’t matter if she was trussed up and waiting for him, he wouldn’t be able to act on his desires anyway.

Getting to his feet, Spike undid his buttons and started sliding the jeans down his hips. At the first sign of resistance, Buffy’s hands were there helping him. Her eyes strayed below his waistband once, sneaking peek at his butt. Oh. . . oh . . . yum, she thought, then had to refocus on helping him because he stumbled a bit getting his feet untangled from his pooled up jeans.

She tried not to look, tried to keep her eyes from dipping below his belly button, tried not to look. She really really did. But when he turned around to take the sweats from her hand, Buffy couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t a big guy. Wasn’t tall like Riley or broad like Angel. In fact he was the shortest guy she’d ever been with since high school.

But his stature and physique were . . . Yeah . . . all sculpted lines and ripped abs and . . . oh yeah. . . and for a guy who was in a boatload of pain, he was impressive. . .

She caught herself staring and blushed furiously. Tearing her eyes away, Buffy wasn’t able to look at his face either, afraid he would mock her. But when his hand reached out to touch her chin, she tilted her eyes to his.

Dark smoldering blue stared back at her, without shame or remorse in their depths. “Your fault kitten.”

And then he dropped the issue. He was in too much pain to pursue it in any case. Spike sighed his regret, then whispered “soon, pet” so softly Buffy wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it.

Wordlessly, they got the sweats on him, working together, then Buffy climbed into bed. Spike laid down with his back facing her, facing the door.

“Spike. This isn’t going to work” she half-whined at him.

“Just go to sleep kitten.” His hand was throbbing and despite his knowing timing was off, Spike’s libido wasn’t listening much.

“You can’t bite me from there.”

He sat straight up, turning his head to look at her. “What?”

“You heard me.” Playing with the hem of his tee shirt, she looked away. “I meant what I said, before, you need to heal.”

“Buffy. You sure?” He almost believed he was passed out and dreaming until she laid her hand on his back.

“Sure as I can be.”

“Right then.” Surveying first her, then the bed, Spike said “sit up sweetheart.”

He began one-handedly re-arranging the pillows until he was satisfied. Sliding one under her hips, he said “roll over love.”

Not sure what he was doing since she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking Buffy complied without too much complaining. Sliding in behind her, Spike wormed his good arm underneath her, cupping her close.

His breath was cool against the back of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin. Goosebumps flared all over as his voice sounded just below her ear. “Close your eyes kitten.”

His left hand snaked underneath the tee shirt, resting just outside her panties. His damaged hand rested over her, just holding her in place without any pressure.

Spike ran light kisses from the nape of her neck to her collarbone, pushing aside the gaping fabric. Buffy moved closer, her butt cradling his erection. The kisses became nibbles, open mouthed and sucking, while his left hand stole inside her panties, circling and seeking entrance. Her hips moved toward his hand, tilting forward to give him better access, and as his fangs nicked her, Spike found her clit.

She gasped, soft panting breaths hitching and sighing as he played her body. He lapped at the blood, running his rough tongue across her now hyper skin, his fingers circling her achingly empty pussy, but not entering.

His name breathed from her lips, a long drawn out sigh, begging him for more. Spike growled into the spot behind her nape, smiling when she keened and writhed against his hand. Cupping her mound while his mouth closed over her scored shoulder, Spike sunk his fangs into her neck and slid a finger inside her as Buffy shuddered in climax, gasping his name.

28. A charmed slumber

I watch thy grace: and in its place
my heart a charmed slumber keeps
while I muse upon thy face;
and a languid fire creeps
through my veins to all my frame,
dissolvingly and slowly: soon
from thy rose-red lips my name
floweth; and then, as in a swoon
with dinning sound my ears are rife,
my tremulous tongue faltereth,
I lose my colour, I lose my breath,
I drink the cup of costly death
brimmed with delicious draughts of warmest life
I die with my delight, before
I hear what I would hear from thee
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Eleanore, 1832


Buffy felt him all around her, his strength enveloping her, gently holding her in place. His injured forearm tightened around her, pulling her even closer. She gasped as he fell back against the mattress, pulling her with him.

There were goosebumps all over her skin, her throat dry and her breathing uneven. Soft whimpers and gasps escaped her, mostly just long exhalations of his name, all the more moving for their near silence.

There was no coherence to her thoughts, the sensations bombarding her from every direction. His skin made her burn, his touch on her, inside her put torch to the flame, his growls set off an answering hum within her throat and she could feel his tongue and teeth caressing and nibbling as he drank.

Every time she sighed, gasped, or whimpered his name, Spike growled low in his throat in response. His hips bucked up against her nearly bare ass and Buffy’s convulsive shudders signaling another climax began again.

There was no beginning or end to the climax, just one continuous shudder moving through her each time his fingers pumped inside her.

Her skin felt like glass again, only this time it was like hot melty glass that can be molded and shaped, instead of brittle and breakable. He was forming her, forging a brand new Buffy, pliable and made for his hands only, smoothing away the brittle edges, softening her lines. Heat surged through her, flooding, surging toward his questing fingers.

She convulsed again, his name a constant litany interspersed with soft whimpers of nothing more than unintelligible moans of “oh”.

Body taught like a fine Stradivarius, Buffy kept climaxing, every muscle in her contracting, centering on his fingers thrusting in and out of her, on his mouth sucking on her skin.

Spent, replete, thoroughly exhausted and satisfied beyond thinking, Buffy curled in on herself, rolling back onto her side, bringing him along with her. Sighing into her pillow, Buffy settled back into her skin, her mind blissfully blank.


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

Spike could feel the aftershocks of her orgasms chase themselves through her muscles, though his own body was still aching for release.

It had been a calculated risk, and worth every second of it. Prolonging the actual bite as long as possible and giving Buffy an orgasm or two had been enough to not trigger the chip.

Or if it had fired, Spike was too involved to even notice it.

Buffy was sound asleep, still curled in his arms, still in the same position, her body still next to his.

He hadn’t taken a lot from her, not near to draining her at all. He’d made a silent promise to her, to only take the bare minimum of what he needed, and that was exactly what he did. Didn’t take much anyway, a little bit went a long way, and Buffy’s was the strongest, sweetest and most potent slayer blood he’d ever tasted.

And now he couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want too. His hand was itching crazily as her blood did its job, healing the cuts and breaks, knitting flesh and bone back together. And as much as he wanted to crawl between her legs, slide into her warm wetness, Spike knew now wasn’t . . . as much as he wanted too, he couldn’t fulfill the promises his body wanted to deliver.

His hand wasn’t healed for one, for another, he didn’t want this to be once and then for Buffy to have second thoughts and dump his sorry ass when she faced reality.

And reality would hit, sooner or later. More than likely in the form of the whelp’s disapproval or worse, in the realization that he was just a substitute for Angel.

He’d lived through that once, didn’t need a repeat, thank you very much. The spectre of Drusilla’s feelings for her sire was always a ghost he fought, and while he’d won the battle many a time, that war was a lost cause. Drusilla loved Angel in a way that she’d never loved Spike, and now, with this woman still in his arms, Spike faced the same fight all over again.

Unattainable women.

He nearly got up from the bed, exasperation and self-pity flooding him. Somehow his body’s tension communicated itself to her, because Buffy rolled over, reaching for him, whispering his name. Wrapping his healing arm around her, Spike kissed her forehead and smiled despite his prior thoughts.

She had reached for him. Called out for him. Said she wanted – needed him here – couldn’t do it without him. Allowed him . . . . oh yeah . . . to drink . . . to touch her.

A feeling he’d never experienced before in his life surfaced, a hope, that maybe, just maybe, this time around the battle would be worth it, and the outcome was not already a foregone conclusion.

Settling himself closer, Spike breathed in her scent, closed his eyes and tried to sleep.


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

Giles wasn’t thrilled with the information he’d found. Once he’d seen them, he’d known immediately what they were. He figured Spike must’ve also, because his calling the lead one Baskerville was a dead give-away.

What he didn’t understand was why here and why now – Anya’s comment about them being far from home striking a chord.

There was still the question of the huntsman controlling the pack of hell hounds, and since he usually wasn’t far behind them, Giles was forced, again, to wonder why here and now.

The how was becoming abundantly clearer with each reference he consulted.

He really was going to have to keep a closer eye on Willow.


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


Tara hadn’t gone back to her room after she and Dawn left Buffy alone with Spike.

Despite the late hour, by unspoken agreement, perhaps knowing what might occur between the two, both girls headed down the stairs to watch movies.

That’s where they both fell asleep, never knowing if Willow was home or not.


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


After leaving the quad, Willow had tried to calm down, but her mind was too confused to settle long enough to even focus on one thing, much less calm enough to meditate.

She walked. Walked for hours and hours without thought or care to direction, to wherever it was she was going, until she found herself in a playground. Sitting on a swing, Willow waited a few moments, wondering if her mind was going to follow her feet and just settle down for a bit.

Clearing her head, Willow finally registered her surroundings. She remembered this playground. It was halfway between her house and Xander’s parent’s. They’d spent a lot of time here as little kids, nothing more important than deciding what area to play in weighing on their minds.

Before life got complicated, before they found out about the monsters, before she knew the monsters had different names, and that she could fight them.

Looking up at the moon, Willow thought, that maybe, she could fix things, go back to before she knew about the monsters, she could fix it all, change things so she didn’t know Xander or Buffy and . . . she gave a half huff. Well that won’t do, because then I wouldn’t have all this power. Silly wish. I like this me much better, way better than old scaredy, dorky Willow.

Firmly on board with the self-liking, she thought.

And the power . . . yeah. Oh yeah.

The power was worth changing everything for, but not if it changed the power itself. She’d sooner give up her arms than this feeling.

Willow stood up, taking three steps away from the swing set. Stretching her neck side to side, Willow inhaled deeply, extending a hand toward the swing set, setting it in motion.

Directing her gaze around the playground, Willow set in motion all the movable pieces. The swings were going, the see-saws bouncing up and down, the circle thingy was whirling like a demented top, everything was in motion. Grinning to herself, she decided to test the boundaries, see what else she could do. Focusing on the slide and jungle gym, Willow wiggled her fingers.

At first, nothing happened. Nothing moved and there was no indication she’d even looked in that direction. Screwing her features tighter, Willow re-focused.

And the slide began walking, goose-stepping, almost hopping around the field, while the jungle gym began re-constructing and creating new shapes and forms, as it slowly moved from its stationery position, even the monkey bars were moving, rolling over each other back and forth between the longer bars. Willow clapped her hands together, laughing out loud in absolute glee, throwing her head back.

Looking up at the sky, Willow wondered what the limits were – if she even had any. It was a clear, late summer night, warm and sultry. The sky was dark blue velvet with silver stars and a nice fat, still nearly full moon in the sky. Staring up at the moon, Willow thought, at first dismissing the notion, but as she stood there, the thought became more irresistible. Stretching her hand up, Willow focused all her energy on the moon, willing it to dance in the sky.

It took a while, forcing her to concentrate all her energy, but, just as she was about to give up for good, the moon began wavering and shifting in the night sky. Shaking and laughing out loud, Willow spun around and around, watching while the moon dipped and spun in company with her.

Drunk on her power, Willow spun round and round and round, laughing until tears sprang from her eyes.

This was wonderful.

This was amazing.

This was what she was born to do.

Falling down onto the grass, Willow rolled over, once more facing the night sky.


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


Buffy shifted in her sleep, nuzzling closer. Muscles twitched, in response to her brain’s stimuli. She was back in the box, unable to escape, her balled fists pushing against the walls holding her in. The air getting . . . . no air. Whimpers fought with a scream. No air. Help. Her feet were caught. No air, no escape. Cool air brushed past her face and strong hands. . . .

Hands. . . . Spike. Where is he? I need him. He’ll save me. Buffy reached to grasp those hands, calling his name. “Spike, help me. Don’t leave me here. Help me.”

Her voice grew as the fear did. Panic set in, her only lifeline the thought of him. “Spike please, please don’t leave me. Help me . . Spike . . . Spike. . . help”

A voice, deep and sleepy, sounded in her ear. “Right here love, ‘m right here. Not leaving. Never leave you kitten.”

Buffy collapsed against him, harsh yet soft noises rasping from her throat. Clutching at him in need, she sobbed against his chest. Cradling her in his good arm, Spike pulled her closer.

“S all right, kitten. ‘M right here. Just a dream. Nuthin more ‘en that. Shush, now.” Low and deep, Spike just held her close, his voice echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

Buffy held onto him as if he was the only solid thing in her world, that he alone could chase away the fears and help her. Everything crashed within her, the stress and strain of being the slayer, countless impossible decisions on her shoulders knowing, at times, one wrong step, one failure could end the world. She’d been dead, done, at peace. Thought it was all over. But no. Willow had dragged her back, into pain and hard decisions. Buffy was suddenly afraid she had nothing left inside her, no well of strength left for any battle, not even a little one. And the only person who appeared to understand was the man holding her in his arms.

She was hollow, a bare husk of that crazy brave fifteen year old she’d been when she found out she was chosen. Now she was barely in her twenties and everything she had, every dream, every hope had been stripped and torn away. She had nothing left. She needed this man, needed his support, his strength, his protection to help her through. Because he was the only one that stayed. And she didn’t know how, anymore, to ask for his help. Help she knew she desperately needed.

His eyes barely opened, he could still see the fear in her scrunched up features. Her words, when they came, roused his protective nature. “Scared. Been scared. Can’t do this anymore. So tired being strong.”

She clung to him, her arms burrowing themselves around him tighter. “So tired of always being the strong one. Can’t show emotion, can’t . . . have to make tough decisions . . . always comes down to me. But I’m scared Spike . . . I can’t do this alone anymore.”

He didn’t know what to say, how to respond. He’d had a feeling this was a problem for her, even before she’d jumped. Too much responsibility dumped on the shoulders of a young, fragile girl, who’s only defense was to erect walls around herself, yes, in protection – but also in isolation, which was not good. Before he could respond, she started speaking again.

“Was dreaming I was trapped again, in that place . . . and you couldn’t . . . I needed your help. Needed you to help me out.” Her tears started falling again, pooling onto his chest.

“‘m right here kitten. Not going anywhere.” He could only re-assure her of his presence, his willingness to stay. Spike didn’t think pointing out he’d stuck by Drusilla for a hundred plus years would be a good thing at the moment, but it was on the tip of his tongue to remind the woman in his arms that he wasn’t the leaving type. Instead he just held her tighter, pressing her against his side.

“Promise me you won’t leave.”

Dumping her flat on her back, Spike raised himself up on his elbow, so he could look down at her. A thousand thoughts were racing through his head, none of which made any coherent sense. Too much for his poor brain to process. Spike stared down at her, his injured hand just dead weight against her side.

“Buffy” he started, then stopped when her eyes focused on his lips.

“Buffy” he tried again. She looked back into his eyes, hers filled with unshed tears.

Before he could speak again, she reached up to touch his face, her thumbs across his lips.

“Promise me, like you did before, like that night . . . promise me you won’t leave me.”

He couldn’t talk. His own unshed tears pooled and his throat was dry and tight with emotion. Clearing his throat, Spike brushed her hair away from her face with his left hand. “For as long as you want me, kitten, I’m yours.”

Pulling his face down to hers, Buffy kissed him.

29. To watch the night in storms

Out of this nettle danger we pluck this flower safety.
Henry IV, pt 1, act 2, sc 4

The sky breaks.
It sags and breathes upon my face.
In the presence of mine enemies, mine enemies
the world is full of enemies
there is no safe place.
Anne Sexton, Noon Walk on the Asylum Lawn


They’d all over slept, curled around each other in different poses, but each one of them feeling pretty much the same thing, this was safe, this was comfortable, this was home. Spike was curled around Buffy, his front to her back, arms tight around her, as she clung to him even in the depths of her sleep, his injured hand cradled between her breasts. She’d not let him go, not once during the night, afraid the dreams would come again to haunt her hard-won peace. Downstairs, on the couch in the living room, Dawn and Tara were curled up together like puppies, long legs and hair wrapped around each other, the television still on.

The house was still, undisturbed by any living or non-living thing, its walls shielding the inhabitants from the outside world.

But peace, especially in Sunnydale, is a fragile thing. Doesn’t always last long, sometimes it doesn’t last at all. And this morning was going to be no exception.

For now, though, those calling Revello Drive home and meaning it, were all safe and sound.


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


It was Saturday, which meant lazing about in bed usually, or sometimes, it meant getting up and bringing donuts and goodies to Buffy’s house. Admittedly, he hadn’t done it in a while, not for a couple of weeks, but Xander figured he might as well start doing it again, since Buffy was now back. So, poking Anya awake, he mumbled something to her about getting donuts and heading over there.

She grumbled her own response, but moved toward the bathroom and the shower to wake herself up.

Before long, they were dressed and on their way, after having called Giles to see if he was up for some bonding and information sharing at Buffy’s. His response was even more garbled than Anya’s had been, but Xander got the gist of it, understanding that the older man would be there before the hour was out.


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


She didn’t have a key, had forgotten to bring one yesterday, was it only yesterday? When she’d left the house to go to the registrar’s office. No. . . that was Friday when she’d done that. So it couldn’t be. . . Willow shrugged her shoulders, then touched the back door’s handle. A little arc of electricity sparked from her fingertips to the door, snaking around the metal. A distinctive click sounded and Willow opened the door and walked inside.

The house was quiet and she figured everyone was either out or asleep. Humming under her breath, she surveyed the contents of the refrigerator and the cabinets. Ahhh, pancakes and bacon and all sorts of breakfasty goodness, she thought. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, next to the island, Willow raised her fingers and emptied the cabinets of all the supplies she would need.

Still humming, she got out the bowls and pans and all sorts of things, setting everything down. Mixing and chopping and frying bacon and getting everything together, Willow sat at the island, her eyes moving this way and that.


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


The noise in the kitchen woke her and Tara gently nudged Dawn off her so that she could get up and see what was going on. She didn’t think it was a burglar, for one thing, it sounded like cooking noises, for another it was far too noisy for someone trying to be quiet. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Tara stretched and the smell of cooking bacon and pancakes reached her nose.

Dawn stretched awake beside her, and her sleepy voice sounded in the air “if you are here, who is the cooking fairy in the kitchen? It can’t be Buffy . . . she burns pancakes.”

Smiling down at the teen, Tara said, “I’m not sure, but whoever it is, is welcome to do this all the time.”

“Well I’m hungry, so let’s go eat.” Getting to her feet, Dawn pulled the older girl after her and they headed toward the breakfast smells in the kitchen.

And stopped short at the sight that greeted them.

Willow was sitting on the island countertop, her back to the hallway, humming under her breath, while all around her the kitchen utensils and appliances did all the work. The pancakes were flipping themselves, while a knife was slicing fruit and the coffeepot was perking away, and orange juice was dancing out of the refrigerator. It looked like some hellmouth version of those weird cartoon movies, where everything has a human face and a personality. . . especially those way-too-cute Disney movies.

She looked like a weird Sunnydale version of Mrs. Weasley – a Mrs. Weasley on crack.

It was creeping Dawn out.

The two in the doorway shared a look, the situation bothering both of them. Afraid of saying anything, for fear of everything landing on the floor in a heap, they backed away from the kitchen, then sat down together on the couch. Neither one knew what to say.

Tara was floored. This was just . . . what Willow was doing was a just a blatant and completely unnecessary use of power, it just . . . why use magic for such a simple task?

For Dawn, while it looked cool, something about it just smelled of nothing good.

The two were still sitting there stunned when Xander and Anya came in through the front door.

“Hey you two, what’s cooking?”

Dawn nearly fell over in completely inappropriate laughter.

“Good morning strangely laughing teenager” was Anya’s greeting, which just sent the two further over the edge, both girls now laughing hysterically. It wasn’t good laughter either, but the other two didn’t know that.

Willow’s voice chimed in from the kitchen, “hey, got pancakes and stuff ready. Anyone hungry?”

Xander was first in the kitchen and everything must have been normal, because he never said a word about it, and the two girls thought maybe they were imagining things, until Anya walked into the kitchen, saying “this room reeks of magic. What did you do Willow?”

“Nothing. Just fixed breakfast.” But there was a defensive note in her voice that wasn’t there before, and both Dawn and Tara noticed it.

There was so much food, Xander didn’t know where to start. “Will, you’ve out done yourself. This is awesome. Puts my donuts to shame.”

And he dug in, his plate piled high with pancakes and syrup. Anya also had a couple of pancakes and fruit on her plate, but the other two just picked, almost as if they were afraid of eating what Willow had prepared. They ate in relative silence, neither Dawn nor Tara willing to bring up what they’d seen, and Xander was too busy eating to even notice their unease.

Taking a breather, he looked up, suddenly realizing that Buffy wasn’t awake yet. Getting to his feet, he headed for the stairs, telling the girls “just gonna hit the bathroom, be right back.”

He bounded up the stairs, heading for the bathroom, then veering off to knock on Buffy’s door. “Hey, Buffster, you’re missing out on pancakey goodness that Willow fixed up for everyone.”

When he got no response, Xander did what he always did – he opened the door to her room.

And got an eyeful.

Gaping at the picture on the bed, Xander gobbled something in his throat.

Neither figure on the bed even registered his presence.

So much for predatory and slayer senses.

Rubbing his eyes, hoping to clear the vision, Xander was disappointed when the scene didn’t change. Nope. They were still there.

Buffy was tucked up in Spike’s arms, his curled around her protectively, both of them sound asleep. The odd thing was, they both looked so peaceful. None of those harsh lines he’d noticed before were on her face and Spike looked like a little boy clutching his favorite toy. Xander didn’t know what to think.

Reacting without thinking, he slammed the door behind him and yelled down the stairs “Willow what the hell have you done?!”

Almost yelling at the top of his voice, he continued, “no amount of cookies is gonna make up for this”.

Xander practically ran down the stairs, nearly barreling into Giles, who was coming in the front door, meeting the girls who were coming in from the kitchen, everyone talking all at once. The noise in the hallway started getting louder, until finally a very sleepy and rather annoyed voice sounded from the top of the stairs. “Can you all just keep it down a bit?”

Dawn and Tara exchanged a glance, catching sight of the look on Xander’s face, while Giles just looked about completely confused. Willow was still trying to say something to Xander while Anya looked around at all their expressions, quickly coming to a conclusion.
Giles was the first to speak, herding everyone away from the hallway, into the kitchen. “Come now everyone, let’s get out of the hallway. Buffy, when you’re ready, please join us.”

Xander wouldn’t speak, a scowl on his features that made Giles pause, wondering just what new fiasco he’d stepped into. The girls wore equal looks of knowledge and wariness, except for Willow, who’s face was defensively schooled. Stepping into the kitchen, Giles noted the breakfast dishes arrayed on the counter, and asked “did you make any tea?”

At a shake of Tara’s head, Giles put the kettle on to boil and settled down for explanations.


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


Her bedroom door slamming startled them both awake, and she caught his chin with the top of her head, jarring the both of them to full wakefulness. Buffy groaned into the pillow, then rolled over to face him. Kissing his bruised chin, she asked, “you okay?”

He nodded once, curling back around her, pulling her towards him. “‘m fine. Just startled is all.”

The loud voices in the hallway penetrated the calm of the room, and Spike sighed, believing this was all at an end. Reluctant to let her go, he held on tighter, rubbing himself against her. She settled in closer, hugging him back with equal fervor. Listening to the rising note of hysteria outside their door, Buffy groaned again. “Can we get them to all go away?”

“They’re your mates, sweetheart. Only you can send them packing.” He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to let her go, afraid all this would come to an end.

Smiling up at him, Buffy ran her fingers down his face. “Don’t wanna get up. Wanna stay here.”

Ooh, she thought, there it is, that smirk that drives me batty, that half the time aggravated her no end and the other half set her back to being thirteen faced with her first crush. Nuzzling into her neck, Spike softly growled against her skin. “Don’t wanna let you go, pet, wanna keep you here.”

But the noise in the hallway got louder, words crashing against each other, nothing making any sense, because no one was listening to anyone but their own self. Spike sighed, able to pick out the most strident of the voices, which just happened to be Xander. Brushing kisses against her skin, he whispered “Harris found us.”

Her voice was equally low, laced with regret. “Thought it was him.” Her sigh was deep. “Didn’t want him to find out this way.”

“Find out what?” He was playing confused, hope beating fragile wings against his dead heart.

“About us.” Buffy pulled him closer, rubbing her cheek against his. “There is an us, right?”

Stunned, he just looked down at her. How in all the hells was he supposed to answer that? Never thought she would be the one pushing the issue between them, always thought it would have to have been him to keep pushing the envelope, making her accept him, not the other way round. Damn girl just kept him off balance.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?” He looked completely bewildered. Utterly fuddled and unsure, Spike just looked down at her. “Yeah, kitten?”

“There is an us . . . “ Buffy let her voice trail off, for once uncertain as to his reaction. He was quiet, too quiet. This was so unlike him that she wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Buffy.” He started to speak, thought better of what he was going to say, then opened his mouth again. “You better go calm them down.”

She looked at him strangely, then got up and made her request, noting that everyone was in the hall at the bottom of the stairs, even Giles. Looking down at everyone, really wanting nothing more than to go back to bed, she said, “can you all just keep it down a bit?”

Without waiting for a response, she went back to her bed. Giles’ voice came up at her, “Come now everyone, let’s get out of the hallway. Buffy, when you’re ready, please join us.”

Spike was sitting up, his back against the headboard, watching her come back into the room. He’d half expected her to just leave him there, especially after his rather eloquent non-response to her statement. He could tell she was confused and a bit annoyed with him, since she just stood at the side of her dresser, studiously not looking at him. Getting up, he pulled her into his embrace. “Already told you, ‘m yours for as long as you want. All yours, kitten. Not going anywhere.”

“I know you did, but . . . “ she couldn’t look at him, afraid he would tell her it would be like it was with Dawn, he would just watch over her and not hold her every night like he’d been doing. Afraid that he wasn’t hers anymore. Afraid that maybe he’d never really been hers at all.

“Told you once, how I felt. Hasn’t changed, love, still feel the same way.” Spike turned her round to face him. Abruptly, he realized he wasn’t dealing with the slayer part of her, hadn’t been dealing with her for days, since her resurrection. This was Buffy, the little girl who had her heart stomped on again and again by the men in her life, from her piss-poor excuse for a father to Angelus to Riley and all the idiots in-between, including the two men downstairs. Well, he wasn’t gonna be another one in a long list of disappointing men.

Those walls she’d erected around herself were, at least for the moment, down. She was allowing her vulnerability to show – something he’d never expected. But this had been starting to happen before she’d jumped, when it all started to become too much. And she’d actually come to him, asked for his help.

Hoping that those defensive walls were down for good, throwing caution to the wind, letting his heart go for it, Spike repeated what he’d said to her those long months ago, when he’d had her chained up. “I love you, pet. Not gonna leave you until you throw me out on my ear. So yeah,” he lifted her up, ignoring the twinge of pain in his right hand, “yeah, there is an us.”

And he kissed her so thoroughly that Buffy’s whole body responded.

Breaking away from each other, she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. He grunted, teasing her. “Ya know, pet, you do that to someone else it’ll break their ribs.”

Laughing softly, she said “found that out the hard way.”

“C’mon goldilocks, let’s go face the wolves.” Tugging on her hand, Spike pulled her to the door.

30. Walk through the Fire

A friend whose hopes we cannot satisfy is a friend we would rather have as an enemy.
Friedrick Nietzsche, Dawn, “Fourth Book” aphorism 313

My noble friend, chew upon this.
Julius Caesar, act 1, sc 2

No one is a friend to his friend who does not love in return.
Plato

Treat your friend as if he might become an enemy.
Publius Syrus



Given the number of people in such a small area, the noise level should have been fairly high. Oddly enough, it was eerily silent. Tara and Dawn had been the last back into the kitchen by unspoken agreement, and while the others sat around the island, they remained standing by the hallway entrance. Anya had sat down directing her gaze back at the other two. There was no doubt in her mind what secret they were hiding, and she figured, rightly, that Xander had just stumbled upon something he truly didn’t like. And judging by the looks on their faces, Dawn and Tara knew what or more specifically, who Xander had discovered. His reaction was all too obvious to Anya’s mind.

Stealing a quick look at her boyfriend, she knew he was just about to blow his top. His face, since he’d come down the stairs, was devoid of color, except for two bright spots on his cheeks, and a muscle was twitching along his mouth. It heralded an explosion of epic proportions. Willow was still decidedly in the dark about whatever was about to happen, too intent on proclaiming innocence for a sin she wasn’t even sure she’d committed.

Giles was happily munching on a stack of pancakes, waiting for his cup of tea to steep, also unaware that things were about to come to a rather heated point. Swiveling around in her chair, Anya got up and started to clean, something she always did when she was nervous. It was the only release she had at the moment.

And thus, it was when the two missing members of the household arrived, her back was to the doorway.


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


Buffy had made some noise to him about putting on a shirt before they went downstairs to face everyone, and Spike had quickly over-ruled that. “No, m’not getting dressed so’s not to offend the whelp. He barged in on us. Too bad for him.”

And so they went, her in his tee shirt and him in the sweat pants and both of them wearing damn little else. He stopped, halfway down the staircase, two steps below where she stood, then turned to look at her. They were almost the same height, faces barely inches apart and she could clearly see the look in his eyes. Before she had a chance to brace herself, Spike had her pinned against the wall, his mouth on hers and one hand up underneath the shirt. Kissing her breathless, he wormed two fingers past her panties, sliding inside her, his thumb pressing on her clit as he held her.

Gasping for air, her arms reached up to pull him closer and soft groans filled the hallway. Breaking away from her, his fingers still thrusting in and out, Spike smiled evilly, his teeth pulling on her lower lip. Oh yeah, she looked thoroughly debauched. Too bad if the whelp objects. Her small hand wrapped around his wrist, holding his hand there, as he tried to slide away from her. Little whimpers gusted against his face as he leaned in for another searing kiss. This time, when he pulled back, he stepped away, dragging his fingers slowly from her aching pussy. His grin was pure devilment, as he tugged her down the steps, and she shuddered at the loss of his touch, then hissed his name softly as he licked his fingers clean.

“Now we go.”


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


The anger was building, boiling and burbling inside him, swirling and looking for a focal point. He didn’t believe Willow hadn’t had anything to do with the situation he’d seen upstairs in Buffy’s room. It had to be another wonky spell. Something. He refused to believe that it wasn’t anything but. There was no other way Buffy would allow Spike to get close. No way. Xander refused to think beyond the idea of a spell gone awry.

He couldn’t look at any of the girls, wouldn’t look Giles in the eye. Instead he just tapped the fork against his discarded plate, pinging it with growing force each time it hit the edge of the plate. There was a noise on the stairs, and Xander looked up, waiting for Buffy to come into the kitchen. And waited.

Expecting her to walk in the kitchen alone, Xander nearly fell off the stool when Spike preceded Buffy into the room. Their clasped hands weren’t immediately visible, but for once, Xander actually picked up on their body language, noting how close they were standing, how Buffy didn’t leave his side. Spike nudged Dawn as he walked past her, then smiled nicely at Tara, which made Xander see red. And like the proverbial bull and red flag, he went charging into it.

“Why is he still here?” Xander asked no one in particular.

“Pretty much because he lives here.” Dawn’s voice piped up, answering when it looked like everyone else was going to stay silent.

“He lives here? I thought he lived in a crypt like all the other dead things” there was growing belligerence in Xander’s tone.

“Yeah, Xander. You know he’s pretty much been here since Buffy . . .” Tara looked over at Buffy, an apology in her eyes.

“Its okay, Tara, you can say it. Since I was gone.” Buffy tightened her hold on Spike’s hand, and they shared a brief look.

Giles got up, moving toward the stove, but subtly moving away from Xander and closer to Spike. While he had no clue what set the younger man off, Giles had a very bad feeling about what was going on.

“Well, don’t you think its time he went back to the crypt and stayed there?” The anger started to really surface in his tone, and it was hard for anyone to miss it.

“Xander what’s your damage?” Was Dawn’s half-innocent query.

“My damage? I’m not damaged. I’m not the one sleeping with the undead demon.”

Everyone stopped. No one moved, and hardly anyone breathed. Giles glanced over his teacup to the blond pair, his face devoid of any real shock. Anya froze at the kitchen sink, and of all of them, only Willow was truly surprised.

“You’re out of line Harris.” For the first time since entering the kitchen, Spike spoke. “No need to speak like that to Buffy.”

“Don’t you speak, you demon scumbag.” Xander’s anger took over completely.

Gasps filled the room, not the least of which came from his own girlfriend. Giles put the cup down, saying “that was a bit uncalled for Xander.”

Rounding on the older man, Xander’s mouth just spewed forth more hatred. “Don’t you tell me what to do – tell her” and he pointed at Buffy, “that what she’s doing is wrong and disgusting and she’s just degrading herself.”

“Xander. Shut up.” Dawn’s voice sounded from Spike’s right, while Buffy clung tighter to his good hand.

The younger man groaned. “Don’t tell me you think this is a great idea Dawnie, coz there’s nothing right about your sister sleeping with a vampire – especially Spike.”

He said his name with such contempt that Buffy couldn’t stomach it anymore.

“Xander, stop it.” Spike’s temper was getting the better of him.

“Don’t you tell me what to do. You are so in the wrong here that you don’t get to speak” Xander waved his hands at Spike, emphasizing each word.

And Buffy saw red, finally finding her voice, “excuse me? Last time I checked this was my house and my life.” Coming to stand next to Spike, their fingers still entwined, she continued “and Spike has as much right to say what he wants as you do.”

“How can you defend him? How can you hold his hand?” In his desperate anger, Xander’s voice rose to a near shout. “How can you let him touch you?”

Unconsciously, Giles and the girls moved closer, while Buffy tried to formulate an answer that wouldn’t escalate tempers further. “Xander, can’t you see how he’s changed?”

“He’s evil Buffy, he’s tried to kill us all – kidnaped me and Willow – god, Buff, how many times has he tried to kill you? How can you defend him?” He tried a different tact with her, hoping his arguments would make her see reason.

“That was a long time ago Xander, he’s changed – remember how he helped with Glory? And what about how much he did while I was gone? He took care of Dawn” the tears started falling and she squeezed his hand so tightly, Spike thought he’d have to worry about both hands. Without waiting for Xander to reply, Buffy spoke through her tears. “God Xander, don’t you see how much he’s done?”

But Xander wasn’t willing to listen. Falling back on his major objection, he just repeated himself. “Evil, Buffy, he’s only helping because the chip won’t let him hurt people. Once it stops working, he’s gonna kill us all – he’s got no soul to stop him. He’s just evil.”

Shaking her head, Buffy started to disagree with him, but Xander cut her off. “Its disgusting. He’s dead – how could you let him touch you?” Sneering at the vampire, Xander crossed a line he didn’t even know he was teetering on. “You are disgusting for letting him near you. You’re just jonesing for some undead dick – an Angel substitute.”

Finally losing his temper, Spike didn’t even wait for the words to finish coming out of Xander’s mouth. Throwing a left hook, Spike caught the boy right across his mouth, breaking skin on teeth, as Giles said “that’s more than enough Xander.”

But Xander wasn’t done. Wiping the blood from his mouth, Xander watched as Spike clutched his head. Not caring that the vampire couldn’t retaliate or even defend himself, Xander went after him.

Throwing punches, he drove the vampire backwards, against the wall, even as the girls and Giles tried pulling him away. Buffy stepped between them, while Tara and Giles tried to subdue Xander, but he managed to get a right cross in, that hit both Buffy and Spike, and hearing Buffy’s yelp of surprise, Spike lost it.

No longer caring about the chip or pain, Spike threw a succession of punches at Xander that nearly put him on his knees, his mouth running constantly “don’t hit what’s mine you stupid fucking git” interspersed with grunts of pain and then, “don’t talk about her like that, you fucking wanker.”

Dawn and Buffy tried stepping between them again, as Xander regained his feet, breaking free of Giles’ hold as anger drove him forward.

Anya’s and Willow’s cries of “stop it” and “Xander” fell on deaf ears and finally, Tara held up both hands, murmuring a barrier spell, separated both men.

Spike sagged back against the wall, succumbing to the pain in his head and right hand while Buffy and Dawn both reached for him. Xander beat against the barrier, cursing and threatening to stake Spike since he was now dangerous. Giles thumped him, speaking through a tense jaw “he’s no more dangerous than I am. You idiot boy, you attacked him, what did you possibly expect?”

Xander sputtered something about Spike throwing the first punch, to which Giles just raised his eyebrow and said nothing. There was nothing to say, everyone present knew just how much Xander had provoked the vampire.

Tara watched as Buffy frantically checked Spike for injuries, trying to get the bandages off his right hand. Closing her eyes, Tara knew this was not the end of this, was barely just the beginning of things.

“‘m all right pet. Just a bit winded, m’head aches.” Spike was reassuring both Summers girls, pulling Buffy into his embrace “you okay sunshine?”

“I’m fine.” Buffy shrugged off his question, reaching for his hand again, “let me see, okay?”

Anya finally moved, roughly checking Xander for injuries. Getting ice from the freezer, Willow handed it to him, with the admonition to “hold this on your lip.”

Waiting for relative calm, Giles cleared his throat, “are you quite done Xander?” Waiting for a response, Giles raised an eyebrow at the boy when none was forthcoming.

“Xander are you finished?” Pausing a beat, Giles went on “I believe you owe Buffy an apology” and lowering the boom again, “and I also believe you owe one to Spike as well.”

“Not apologizing to that scum” Xander’s tone was pure poison, but he was totally unprepared for the comments from everyone else.

“Apologize to Buffy” was Willow’s statement, while Spike just growled at him, but it was Tara’s and Anya’s words that made him think.

“You should apologize to both of them Xander” was his girlfriend’s comment, while Tara looked at him sadly. “You insulted both of them, upset Buffy enough to make her cry. What you did was childish and wrong Xander. But its up to you to make it right.”

And then she surprised the hell out of everyone by saying, “and if you can’t do that, then maybe you need to leave Buffy’s house until you’ve thought about what you said and did just now.”

31. Dangerous conceits

An imprudent enemy is less dangerous than an imprudent friend.
Mason Cooley, City Aphorisms

There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love.
Martin Luther King, “Letter from Birmingham Jail”

Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Samtliche Werke:
Kritische Studienausgabe, vol. 2

There is nothing more dangerous than the conscience of a bigot.
George Bernard Shaw, Election speech, 1904



Once again silence reigned in the Summers kitchen, this one with a deflated, almost defeated quality to it. Buffy was staring at Giles trying to figure out how he was reacting to this, but his face was blank, while Dawn unwrapped Spike’s bandages. Tara watched Xander, hoping somehow that her words had managed to reach him, but fearing the worst.

Anya wrung her hands, uncharacteristically silent. She didn’t know what to say. She knew Xander didn’t like Spike, but had no idea his dislike went so deep. It was almost as if Spike was the representative of all demons, something she’d been not that long ago. She wondered if Xander felt this way about all demons, or maybe it was just vampires that had an interest in Buffy.

Xander hung his head, for once thinking hard. He wasn’t quick like most of the girls, it took him a while to make up his mind about things, or change it once he’d made up his mind. Xander screwed up his courage and choked on his pride and any other cliches he could remember that signified what he was feeling at this moment. The last thing he wanted to do was leave this house, leave the girls. Hell, they were the only real family he had, but he really didn’t want to apologize to Spike. It was possibly the last thing he ever wanted to do. It wasn’t that he deep down hated Spike, because sometimes they could connect, it was just. . . . how in the world could Buffy prefer the dead to the living? That he couldn’t understand.


Weighing the cost, Xander came up with the only compromise his mind and his heart would allow. “I’m sorry for what I said Buffy” and taking a deep breath, “and Spike.”

Tara breathed a deep sigh of relief, as did Giles. Buffy looked at him and realized Xander had deliberately worded his apology to only encompass his words, not his actions or what he was thinking. For now, though, it was enough. She didn’t have the energy to get into a full blown discussion with anyone right now – especially not over Spike, the one person she could rely upon. Nodding her acceptance, Buffy turned her attention back to Spike.

Giles, ever practical, drew everyone’s attention away from what had just happened. “If we are all calmed down, I’ve some information to share about those hounds.”

Hissing at the pain as the last of the splints was removed, Spike growled a response to Giles. Tara had already moved to warm up some blood, and when the microwave pinged, she handed the mug off and waited for Giles to continue.

“You weren’t far off, Spike, when you mentioned the Baskerville hound” he paused, waiting for his audience’s full attention. “The Baskerville hound is just one of a pack, known as the Cwn Annwn” he pronounced it coon annoon, “literally the hounds of hell.”

“Its very unusual for all of them to appear at once. The white ones normally hunt down traitors, while the others claim souls destined for hell – sinners or wrongdoers, if you follow me.”

Curious despite her reluctance to jump back into slaying, Buffy asked, “so why is the pack all together in Sunnydale?”

“The why I’ve yet to discover, but how is fairly clear.” Looking down at the remains of breakfast, he said “it appears that when Willow opened the dimensional doors, the Cwn Annwn came through.”

He didn’t look at the redhead, but his disappointment and disapproval were clearly evident. Willow stiffened, but remained silent, for once wanting to avoid a conflict. Apparently the fracas between Xander and Spike was enough for one morning. “I’m also not positive they were the only entities to come through. We’ve no real knowledge of how long the portal was open and left untended. Nor do we know how many dimensions were linked to that particular portal.”

“Not good Watcher.” Spike spoke through tight lips, willing away the pain. “What else don’t we know?”

“The Cwn Annwn have a . . . well, they have a ‘handler’ for lack of a better term. I’ve found no evidence that he’s come with them, but also none that he hasn’t.”

Tara stared down at her hands. Willow did this, she let the hounds of hell loose in Sunnydale. No wonder Gaia had warned her about Willow, opening the portal and now, with what she’d blithely done this morning, this is so far from good. . . Tara tried to find her voice, but was discovering it difficult. “How . . . how are these hounds . . . what are they here for?”

“That is undetermined. But I believe that the pack is responsible for the dead girls Spike has found the past three nights.”

“Didn’t find any last night, Rupert, they found us first.”

“True, but I’ve no idea what happened after we got you away from them.”

Buffy’s inquiry cut to the heart of things. “So, how do we get rid of them?”

“I’m still working on that. We also need to know where they hide during the time they aren’t hunting.”

“Anyone up for daytime patrol?” Buffy asked, almost hoping Xander would volunteer.

Instead, Dawn piped up, “can I? Please?” Looking from Buffy to Giles to Spike, Dawn knew if she could convince one, the others would agree. “I’ll be totally careful. Bring a cell phone and everything. C’mon lemme go.”

Buffy looked at Spike, who shrugged, then Giles who gave her no help either. “I don’t know Dawnie . . .”

Willow’s voice broke in, saying “I’ll go with, Buffy, we should be okay.”

Xander, despite not wanting to have anything to do with the rest of them, couldn’t let the girls go on their own. Somewhat reluctantly, he said “count me in.”

“Okay, so you guys . . . Xander you know what you’re looking for and you can keep an eye on the girls. Don’t take any crazy risks and be back here – before nightfall.”

Buffy was suddenly all business, something both Giles and Spike were happy to see.

Anya stopped cleaning up and rinsed off her hands, saying to Xander “you can drop me off at the shop so I can open.”

As they all moved to get ready, Buffy pulled Dawn aside, saying “be careful, don’t take any crazy chances and stick close to the others. I’m trusting you to be smart about this.”

Practically dancing about in her excitement, Dawn hugged her. “I sooo promise. No stupid moves. This is soooo cool. You’re the best.”

Spike’s voice came from over her shoulder, “Niblet, be careful.” He started to say something else, then changed his mind. Handing her a wickedly sharp knife, Spike said, “just in case. Keep it close.”

And in less than fifteen minutes, they were gone, leaving only Giles and Tara behind with Buffy and Spike.


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

Spike was harboring no illusions about what had happened or what was about to. While he’d earned the grudging trust of the other Englishman, he didn’t for one instant think it would extend to sleeping with his slayer. Nor did he expect Buffy’s affections to last under the weight of everyone’s disapproval. Steeling himself for the coming ordeal and figuring he’d have at least a reprieve until dark, Spike prepared himself for the worst.

“How’s the hand?” Was the first thing out of the older man’s mouth which caught him a bit by surprise.

Holding it up for inspection, Spike flexed his fingers. “Not too bad considering damned near lost it last night.”

Tara took it in both her hands, turning it over so she could look at it. “Healing pretty well.”

Neither Giles nor Tara mentioned it, but they both figured Buffy had to have given more blood to Spike, because the bite marks had all healed, the scars around his hands were fresh looking and his fingers, at least two of them, were fine. His thumb and middle finger were still swollen and battered, but the bruises looked more like they’d been there for a couple of days, instead of being very fresh.

Giles took off his glasses, resting them on the counter. Without much of a preamble, he spoke. “I expect you both know what you’re doing.” Pausing momentarily, he went on “I can’t say I approve wholeheartedly, but,” he raised his eyes to look at both of them, “I can’t say I’m not . . . you’re both adults. Neither of you is my child, but Buffy, you’re the closest I’ll ever come to having my own daughter.”

Gathering steam, Giles took a deep breath. “I trust you enough to believe you know what you’re doing. Understand this, you” and he looked pointedly at Spike, “will never be good enough. I had hoped for more, for Buffy’s sake. If you make her happy, then fine. But hurt her in any way, any way. “ he emphasized the point by wagging a finger at Spike, “I will make your existence miserable.”

Putting his glasses back on, Giles continued, “that being said, you do realize I’m not the one you have to worry about.”

Buffy sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Yeah. Xander was pretty vocal about his thoughts.”

“Bloody fucking wanker” was Spike’s comment.

Half-heartedly swatting at him, Buffy went on to say, “I didn’t know he . . . what he said . . . “

“What he said Buffy, was way overboard.” Tara said. “But Xander’s got a lot of issues he has to work on.”

Spike snorted his comment, placing a small kiss on her forehead. “‘m sorry kitten. Shouldn’t have done any of that.”

“Not your fault Spike” Buffy leaned into his chest, needing some comfort. She didn’t say it, but Xander’s words had hurt, bringing up things she didn’t want to think about. Buffy was okay with being avoid-o girl right now. It was too hard to fight. Too hard living up to everyone’s expectations. One of the reasons it was easy being around Spike was because he didn’t expect anything, didn’t expect her to do anything more than just be. No pressure to go out and pretend everything was okay. And him being around protected her from a lot of the other things, like having to deal with stuff she just wasn’t ready to deal with.

“So Rupert, what didn’t you tell us about the hounds?” Wrapping his right arm around Buffy, Spike turned his attention away from Xander and his vitriol.

Giles’ sigh was almost a laugh. “Not much gets past you, does it?”

“Not likely, you people always underestimate me. C’mon Watcher, tell us the rest of it.” This was an old teasing argument between them that started when Spike had been held captive at Giles’ flat, and over the summer it had escalated as Giles had discovered Spike’s ability to speak several demon languages and, his previously undiscovered classical education. Spike never skipped an opportunity it rub it in Rupert’s nose that he was as educated and as knowledgeable as he was, if not more so.

“I believe the hounds are hunting, what, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t appear they are looking for Buffy. I’m rather worried what else may have come through.”

Glancing at Tara, who was finishing the clean up Anya had started, he said “I’m afraid what Willow did, bringing Buffy back from an unknown dimension may have dire consequences for the hellmouth. Right now there’s no way of telling what the effects are going to be. I don’t believe Willow did enough research.”

Tara shifted by the sink, knowing she should speak up, but almost afraid to – it might be disloyal to her girlfriend – but how much of a girlfriend was she anymore? Realizing she had to say something, Tara turned to face the other three, and told them what she and Dawn had walked in on earlier this morning.

Nothing but silence greeted her words, each of them thinking how innocuous the information sounded, how innocent the entire moment seemed to be, until it was weighed against Willow’s other actions.

The words of the not-prophecy flashed through Spike’s head and he suddenly realized part of what the girl had been telling him. The red one had to be Willow and he was coming to believe that the yellow one did mean Tara.

He was going to have to bring this up to Rupert later, sometime before he patrolled again, without Buffy. Which might be sooner than he thought, since it didn’t look like she was ready to go hunting ordinary vamps, much less a pack of mystical hounds.

Spike picked at a cold pancake “we need to watch Red, Rupes, girl isn’t thinking right. No telling what she’ll do next.”
 

32. Like a dream in the night.

The sky is burning
a sea of flame
though your world is changing
I will be the same
The storm is breaking
or so it seems
we’re too young to reason
too grown up to dream
Bryan Ferry, Slave to Love,
from the album of the same name

Home, is where I want to be
but I guess I’m already there
I come home, she lifted up her wings
guess that this must be the place
I can’t tell one from another
did I find you or you find me?
There was a time, before we were born
if someone asks, this is where I’ll be . . .
where I’ll be
Talking Heads, This must be the place,
from the album Speaking in Tongues



They’d talked for a little longer, none of them unfortunately able to come to any new conclusions. It all came back to Willow and what she’d done. There was no way to tell what else may have come through the portal, and without knowing where Buffy had been, Giles could come up with no other new theories. And despite Spike’s raised eyebrow and pointed looks, Buffy had no intention of telling anyone but him where Willow had ripped her from. Indicating his desire to continue searching, Giles got up to say his goodbyes and Tara went upstairs to shower, saying “I’ve got some errands to run, but I’ll be back before the others get home.”

Spike sat in front of the television, his mind not really on the drivel, he was thinking about Buffy and what had just happened with Xander. Rupert had surprised him, giving a conditional approval to their burgeoning relationship. The girls had been very silent, only Willow exhibiting surprise at their closeness. Flicking channels, he thought about the girl currently outside talking to the man who was, for all intents, her parental figure.

She’d not moved away from him once during Xander’s tirade, instead clinging to him, and when Giles had said his piece, Buffy hadn’t backed away. It was not what he’d expected, not at all. Buffy relied on her friends to help give her strength and their approval or disapproval was important to her. He didn’t fool himself, they didn’t like him and he knew it. Or at least he’d thought so. Seemed only Xander had a problem with it.

He figured that Dawn wouldn’t object at all, and Tara was just so sweet that even if she had a problem with it, she wouldn’t ever say so. The other big impediment could be Willow. But he couldn’t say for certain anymore, because Red was so off lately. He used to be able to figure her out, but not for awhile, not since Glory had messed with Tara’s mind.

Waiting for her to come back in the house, Spike couldn’t sit still. Getting up, he paced about a bit, picking up and putting down various knickknacks. He refused to peek out the window, instead Spike whirled about and headed for his room in the basement.

Before he hit the kitchen, the front door opened and Buffy came back inside the house.

Turning around, Spike just stared at her.


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


Not caring about her current attire, Buffy had followed Giles out the door when he got up to leave. She didn’t fool herself about what he’d said earlier, Giles was far too okay with this, there had to be something else.

“Giles?”

“Yes?” He heard the underlying uneasiness in her voice knew also the cause of it.

“Um . . . “ she didn’t know how to bring this up, but she had to know. “This thing – you’re really okay with it?”

Pretending to not understand was just going to prolong this awkward discussion, and Giles had no wish to upset her anymore than she already was.

“You mean with Spike?”

“Yeah. You did mean what you said just now, right?” The uncertainty was enough to tell him how fragile she still was.

“I did mean it. A relationship with a vampire – with any vampire is not what I would have wanted for you” looking at her over his glasses, Giles reached out to touch her hand, “but I don’t know if normal is what you’re destined for. I do know that I trust him.”

At her half surprised look, Giles continued, “I’ve never forgotten what he did when Angelus had me, nor will I ever forget what he’s done these last couple of months.”

“So you aren’t just telling me what you think I want to hear?”

“No Buffy. That I wouldn’t do.” Squeezing her hand, Giles stepped down and looked at her. “I don’t think Spike would hurt you now, with or without the chip.”

And he was gone, leaving Buffy standing there, only a little bit stunned. Going back inside the house, she saw Spike heading for the kitchen.

He turned and all she could do was stare at him.


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

Dawn wasn’t sure she wanted to be near Xander at all when he was like this. He’d done nothing but spout nasty things about Spike since they started looking for the hounds’ hiding place.

Her temper had been pretty short anyway since he’d gotten
all stupid back at the house. She was thinking about how to get him to shut up when Willow inadvertently did it for her. Grabbing her oldest friend Willow pulled him out of Dawn’s hearing range and told him quickly about the flyer she’d seen. Could the pair of them be any more self involved?

Watching the two of them whisper, Dawn was suddenly very glad she shared no genetic material or similarities with either of them. Because Xander was just . . . narrow minded and for someone who’d grown up on the hellmouth, he should have been just a bit more tolerant. And Willow – Willow was downright off. For the last couple of months, something was just . . . not right with the older girl, and it made the hair on the back of her neck rise.

Or that could be the really creepy guy and the scary dogs that were about twenty feet away from her.


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

He thought, afterwards, that she made the first move, holding out her hand and taking a tentative step forward. Hardly mattered, because in the next instant, she was in his arms, her face pressed hard against his bare chest, his hands tight around her waist.

To his own ears, his voice sounded shaky, so filled with emotion that it caught him by surprise. “Love you kitten, so much. So bloody much.”

Buffy curled into his embrace, her own words muffled against his skin. He could barely make them out, barely understand she was speaking. His good hand snuck underneath her shirt, stripping away her panties, gripping her bare ass tightly. The fingers of his right hand flexed around her waist, and he leaned down to capture her lips with his.

One of her hands crawled up his back, digging hard into the muscles where his shoulder and neck joined. With her other hand, Buffy pulled him closer, wiggling her hips, trying to find some friction.

His tongue swept inside her mouth, battling hers. Banging his back against the wall, Spike tried lifting her up, but his right hand wouldn’t cooperate. Growling and rumbling low in his chest, Spike reversed their positions, pinning Buffy against the wall. Lifting her up with his thigh against her exposed sex, he could feel the heat pulsing against his muscles.

Mewling into his mouth, Buffy clutched at him frantically, trying to angle her hips so she could ride his thigh. Both her hands were on his ass, squeezing and she couldn’t stand it any longer.

He’d managed to get the tee shirt up over her breasts and his mouth latched on a hardened nipple. Somehow she crawled upwards, her feet braced against the back of his legs. Gasping for air, she hissed his name, as she pushed his sweats down. Skin to skin now, Buffy tried lifting herself up as Spike’s left hand hooked underneath her leg, lifting her further.

His cock was hard against the outside of her soaking wet pussy, pulsing against her. Unable to move, Spike rumbled low in his throat, “let me in kitten, oh god let me in.”

Gulping through her dry mouth, her breasts heaving against his chest, Buffy whispered “now please, now Spike.”

Sliding her up the wall, Spike wedged his hips between her legs and nudged his straining cock against her opening. “Guide me in, sweetheart. Oh god, lemme in.”

No sooner had the first gasped words left his lips than Buffy’s hand enclosed his cock, angling him inside her.

Their frantic movements stilled as he slid all the way up inside her.

“Oh” came breathless from her mouth.

“Uhh” was echoed back.

He was hard and large and so . . . solidly there within her that tears sprang to her eyes. Buffy shuddered around him, a hand cupping his cheek as she stared down wide-eyed at him.

She was wet and hot and he could feel every muscle tense around him. He stopped moving, just staring at her wonder and utter disbelief in his eyes. She clenched around him, shuddering as she encompassed his size.

They gasped for air at the same instant.

She squirmed in his arms, squeezing him hard. He flexed, sliding out just a little, then slid back in.

“Oh god.”

She hissed, unable to move at all, pinned between his hard chest and the wall, impaled on his hard length. Hooking his hands under her legs, spreading her open, Spike pumped his hips, sliding out then in again.

“God kitten . . . so wet . . . hot . . never felt. . . heat.” Dipping his head in for a kiss, Spike bit her lower lip, tugging on it as he moved back.

Buffy was overwhelmed. His cock throbbed and slid in and out of her, his grunts and barely audible words sounding in her ears. Her hands reached for him, trying to hold him close, frantic to get him to hit that spot. Tugging on his hair, Buffy felt him brush against it, once, twice. “Oh god . . . Spike . . . oh.”

Her whole world narrowed to the feeling of him pistoning in and out of her, the feel of his hard length sliding in and out of her aching pussy. “Need . . . Spike.”

His tongue flicked across her nipple and Buffy’s inner muscles contracted.

“Oohh.”

Her orgasm rushed through her, his name a hissed litany in the air around them and as she clamped down on him, Spike growled, pumped up into her hard and let loose his own orgasm.

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