Chapter 9:

Okay, so she could get that it would take her friends a little longer than her to adjust. Wasn’t like they’d had the dream of a lifetime and knew that being afraid of Spike was a useless waste of energy. Still, she felt like screaming every time she heard the chain rattle against the enamel of the tub, settling instead for a petulant stamp of the foot as she stood fuming beside Giles, cup of blood in hand and sporting a deep scowl.

“I know what you say you dreamed, Buffy. But acting like a spoiled child will not change my mind. For my own piece of mind, I think it is safer for all of us if Spike were chained up.” Giles passed her the mug, glared at his restrained vampire and left the room.

Buffy blinked slowly and closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to bring her to her knees. She finally had him and he was so angry with her. She could see the violence in him every time he looked at her. She had absolutely no idea how to make this sitch better for either of them. She only seemed to know how to make it worse.

“Oi, bit o’ nourishment needed over here.” Spike had watched her arguments for maintaining his freedom and had clenched his jaw at the obvious failure. So, for some reason she knew more about his condition than anyone and why was that exactly? Did she set the whole thing up?

He couldn’t help the twitch of his nose as the scent of warm blood moved closer. He shuffled his bum over the smooth surface of the tub to get closer to the edge, turning his nose up for only a second before he dived on the little bendy straw that was between him and the good stuff.

“I’m sorry.” Buffy’s voice was soft, hesitant, and she had yet to raise her eyes to look at him.

“Yeah. Could tell that by the great piercing pain in my head.” Spike struggled to maintain his angry indifference in spite of her developing sniffles, refusing to let a woman in tears shift his temper when she was undoubtedly in the wrong.

“You weren’t ready for me,” she stated, watery eyes at last making his level as she begged for some kind of understanding.

She actually looked pretty gorgeous all emotional and the like. Spike tilted his head, straw stuck to his bottom lip as he contemplated what she’d said.

“Don’ think any bloke would be ready for you, Slayer.”

He got a smile. It was small but a curve of red nevertheless. And for some reason it riled him that it settled the raging beast that wanted destruction. But he felt good inside for the small step away from the violence and his confusion of the past weeks.

“I tried to warn you,” she said softly again, sucking in a breath at his raised brow. “That night you walked me back to my dorm.”

He spluttered and blood bubbled up out of the mug and sprayed the bathroom wall. “The night you bloody pulled me off, you mean!”

Hell, her blush made him hot and hard in all the wrong places. As Spike shifted in the tub, trying to soothe the position of his zipper, he started to revise that assumption. At least one of those places felt bloody good. Right. No fighting it then. The Slayer got him horny. Slayer made him forget himself and get a little lax with his own security. She had made a few rather odd statements that night, told him to be careful, and he thought she was just barmy.

Well, now he had a little bull ring to tether him permanently in place. That’d teach him for thinking every woman that wanted him was off her rocker.

“Right. Guess you did in a very cryptic sort of way.” His back relaxed against the bath and he watched her; wondered at her nervousness. He could see the fun in playing with her, but there was something else that made him wary about staying amongst the same status quo. She might have allowed those military bastards to turn him into a lab rat, but she had also managed to get him out. He couldn’t deny the girl was pretty inventive, too.

“Did they hurt you?” And again the tears were evident in her voice, embarrassing the strongest woman he knew into ducking her head and hiding her fear.

Did they hurt him? Other than shoving some pretty incapacitating hardware in his brain and making it impossible for him to be who he was? Nah, he’d just had to wait. Be starved, or drugged…which ever one he settled for that day. But he knew he’d get out, despite the long trail of demons that came out of their cells on stretchers for experimentation only to never return again. Yeah, he’d been pretty lucky. Neutered, but no, not hurt.

“Not really,” he replied and Buffy finally released the pent up adrenaline that kept her upright. She sank hard to her knees, gripping the outside edge of the tub and was thankful that she got him out before they did nasty things to his very scrumptious body.

“So, what do you Samaritan types do around here for the holidays?” He waited expectantly, hoping the change in topic would get her back together and stop this uncharacteristic moping around his current bed.

“Huh?” The Slayer curled her top lip and wrinkled her nose, obviously lost in some other dimension of vampire sitting duty.

“You know, pet. What is it? One of those nauseatingly chipper days where everyone sits around telling tall tales about how grateful they are no one was able to kill them?”

“Oh,” she said as her eyes lit up, and she hopped up on the edge of his prison and looked down into his eyes. “You mean Thanksgiving? Wow, Indians. And Angel.” She scrunched up a brow as if trying to remember something and then slid inside the tub and ended up shockingly in his lap and on his semi-erect cock. Spike was too shocked to react. As her arms curled around his neck and she shifted in his tub to be more comfy against his hardened appendages, he was mesmerised by the wry amusement that flashed within the green.

“How about I take the bear and kill the Indians, and you can make pumpkin pie?” She was back to the beaming, her happiness a mystery to him despite the promise of sweets.

“There’s a bear? How’d you get a bear?”

And she giggled, tapped her nose and whispered, “It’s a secret,” before devouring his lips in a heated kiss.

Spike was moving swiftly from one shock to another, but his body didn’t seem to have a problem that the woman whose blood he wanted to paint the finest mural with was pashing him within an inch of his unlife.

He was just starting to get into it, starting to think this having intimacy with the Slayer wasn’t too bad a thing to have in secret, when it was over. Gone. But still he had warm flesh curled up in his lap with her soft hair and head tucked up under his chin.

“I’m still going to kill you.” But his attempt at a snarl seemed to come out a hell of a lot huskier than he’d been going for. She shifted in his lap and he felt the side of his cock rub almost painfully against denim, tearing a whimper from his throat even as his eyes crossed. He came to and found her staring at him in wonder, catching his eyes in an unwavering gaze that seemed to convey some deep emotion, and it wasn’t of the hating variety.

“Not unless I kill you first,” the Slayer whispered back, and then she was moving closer, fraction by fraction as she refused to surrender the look that was holding him in thrall. Her lips enclosed his lower one and she sucked hard, moaning against the flesh as her hand fell to his chest and she gently stroked down to a nipple.

Then there was tongue and Spike felt like his mind had imploded, this display of the most exquisite sweetness too much for his tired brain to withstand. She tasted so delicious and he struggled to get a hand on her, swearing mentally at the chains that held him captive and away from exploring her flesh. Just as he managed to get one hand under her shirt, she pulled away.

“I can make this better, Spike. I promise. It’s not as if you haven’t been a temporary white hat before. I know you can be good. I’ve seen it. Please, just give me a chance.” She stopped and just watched him while she waited, obviously holding breath while he came down from the feel of her lips.

It took several seconds for the words to kick in and he almost roared in fury. His body jerked and he sent her clear across the tub, petty happiness soaring through him when she banged her hip on the pipes.

“You think you can train me like some dog?” He vamped out and snarled at her. “This is what I am, baby. I’m a killer, and I love it. I love to see you stupid humans scream in terror, try to get away while my fangs are in your throats and the jig is more than bleeding up. You’re off your bird if you think one act of desperation will lead to massive stupidity on my part.”

He stood and loomed over her menacingly, this time finding joy in her tears as she shrunk back in the other end of the tub.

“You could flop your pussy in my face right now and I’ll do nothing but use what you offer. I don’t know what you think this lust is going to lead to, but I won’t be your willing slave. Now get the hell out.”

She shuffled out of the tub and bathroom as if hell were riding her tail, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stopped at the door and suddenly turned, anger glinting in place of the misery he’d wrought just seconds before. With determined strides she was back in front of him, her mouth set hard and determined.

“I obviously went about this all wrong. You’re a bonehead and you need it, don’t you? Need to fight for it. Well fine. You’re chipped and useless and we’ll fight. May the best m…woman win.” And she slugged him hard on the jaw, nearly dislocating it as it decided bravely to stay connected to his skeleton.

Spike blinked in surprise, but she was gone. Teenage petulance leaving behind a delicious flavour.

Right then, would be possible to say that that didn’t quite go to plan. If he’d bothered to shut his mouth for five so he could actually make one. Oh well, he had the Slayer pissed off at him rather than sending him those mushy looks that turned his insides. It couldn’t get any better.

As he settled back into his temporary prison, he couldn’t help that little voice piping up and remind him that the turning of his stomach wasn’t exactly in a way that had made him sick.

He was buggered.
 

Chapter Ten

Spike knew he’d hit pay dirt when he’d graduated from the bathroom to the living room. The incompetent idiots actually thought this rope could hold him to the chair, like he was some kind of William the Bloody Lightweight or something. His brow furrowed as a sudden horrifying thought hit him. He hadn’t really tested that. Maybe the soldiers had taken his strength away too. Flexing his now rapidly healing body, his muscular arms stretched the ropes and, as it was about to give he stopped and smirked in satisfied relief.

Little snippets had been circulating all day so he knew enough to work out this might just be the chance when he could get away from the beyond annoying bunch. He could admit, though, that their many little research sessions was shooting out information he just couldn’t work out how they knew. How was it they were expecting drama in the form of Peaches and vengeful ghosty Indians with a side of roast turkey and pumpkin pie? Was almost like they had their own little Dru on hand, but with a lot less nut in her case.

Not that it mattered, because Spike had a plan. And as long as they all ignored him, or if he could get the Slayer to trust him, there was no way he could balls this one up. He’d be free by day’s end and could offer up his own little Thanksgiving that he cut these interfering little brats down to size and he was once again a free vamp. He felt so confident he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.

“Hey Slayer, your little feast is smellin’ delicious, pet. Gimme a preview.”

She ducked out from around the kitchen and gave him a fiery look, her face flushed from his innuendo as well as her vicious slaughter of the food.

“Cut it out, Spike. Stop being a pig.” But she couldn’t stop the little girlish giggle that a day of celebration brought to her.

He checked her out lewdly, thinking to himself how easy it was going to be to snuggle up to her and fool the lot of them.

“I could help you in there, you know. Stir a little pudding. Wrap a little bird.” The rapid thump of her blood suddenly thundering through her veins had him give himself a mental high five and he just bided his time. He’d have her any minute now. Have her panting to get these ropes off him and rubbing her hard little body all over his eager bits. He couldn’t have thought of a better distraction if he’d tried. All her goody two shoes friends would be gaping while he lavished her with his special Spike brand of lovin’ and he’d aim his way to his biggest conquest yet. Bagging his third Slayer and escaping the clutches of a bunch of misfits.

“You…you really want to help?” she asked him, her little voice just dripping in the hopeful.

“Nothin’ else better to do.” He wiggled his hips in the chair, enjoying beyond his expectations the embarrassed little flushes that spread across her cheeks. His dirty mind started mapping out other parts of her delightful flesh he could maybe find that rash of crimson before he was startled by her hesitant steps towards him.

“I could let you go, Spike. I mean, I want to let you go…but you do know there’s no point going anywhere, right? You’re vulnerable out there, and I know you are angry with me for allowing that to happen to you in the first place, but I’m here to help you now. If you leave the commandos will catch you again. I don’t want them to have you back, so please just trust I’m trying to do the right thing for you.”

Her little speech made his jaw tick and Spike struggled hard to keep a hold of his temper or that foolproof plan was going to die a very cruel death. For it to work, they all had to believe he was coming around to the Slayer’s bizarre attraction to him. He could puke his guts up later for the things he would have to do. For now he was going to have to enjoy every little second of her presence. He intentionally blocked out the ridiculously annoying part of his William side that forced him to acknowledge that it wouldn’t be as difficult as he was making out.

Whatever.

She moved a little closer and he could smell the variety of foods she’d been mixing it up with in the kitchen. It really suited her, this earth mix of veges and meat. Made him bloody hungry too, and not for blood. He quickly banished the visions that had him pounding into her hard while she lay back on the dining table, her pretty little preparations pushed unceremoniously to the floor. It wasn’t right, and no way was he going to get sucked that far into this little delusion of hers. Even if she had made it more than obvious how much she would love to have his sexy bod.

“Now, Xander will be here any minute and he’s not gonna be totally with the healthy, so don’t bug him, okay. This is going to be a seriously long day, and I’ve already managed to successfully avoid one of Angel’s visits.” There was another one of those giggles that should have made Spike want to rip his ears off, but instead he found himself leaning forward, listening to her, smelling her, and being disturbed with how much he enjoyed it.

Her warm hands brushed over his as she put her arms around him and watched every emotion in his eyes as she loosened the knot. Her torso ran the length of his shins and he felt a need to part his legs and draw her in closer to his crotch. It was instinct, and he didn’t even attempt to move as she wiggled against his tight jeans, her breasts now pushed into his black t-shirt just above his abs. Bloody hell he felt hard, and Jesus he ached. Maybe that dining table scenario wasn’t so out of the question after all. A bloke would be stupid to knock back something so warm and inviting. Even if he was going to slit her throat when the time came.

Buffy was exhausted. It had been a beyond tiring day, what with the hiding and protecting of people that either were not wanting to be seen, and those that would have their heads off if they were found. Who knew that protecting the not so innocent—at least in the eyes of the natives—could be such hungry, hot work. At least Buffy could thank the PTB for some very nice and squishy vampire to lighten her load. Or at least, some time in the future when he’d forgiven her. She wasn’t a fool. A little further on the naïve side than she would obviously like, but she knew Spike. And she knew Spike was up to something. Still, what could he do? She’d let him have his fantasies and hopefully get some yummy smoochies in the meantime.

As she finally managed to undo the knot that held Spike rather symbolically—rather than practically—to the chair, Buffy let her hands grasp hold of his, smoothing her thumb over his flesh in a way that made her whole body tingle. She threaded her fingers between his and squeezed, letting her eyelids drop closed in building fatigue and heightened desire as her forehead hit his chest with a soft thump. God, the black fabric of his tee was soft. He must use fabric softener, one of the more expensive brands. He smelled divine, all softly flowery against pure essence of man.

Buffy could hear stuff happening in the background, but she felt way too happy to see what was going on. She knew she was tickling his chest with her nose as she slowly drifted up to dazedly taste his lips again. So smooth and cool and soft and she was going to die if he didn’t start returning some of her feeling soon. He felt so good and Buffy felt her heart expand more and more for this vamp who had without a glance stolen it right from out of her chest. She could never have expected Angel to be so thoroughly in her past, and she kneeled helplessly thanking the PTB for making her see the light before this situation eventuated and caused her four years of anguish and disappointment.

Not once did Buffy truly think Spike wouldn’t fall in love with her. His feelings in the dream were too real, too raw to be something that was impossible to eventuate. And yeah, she might have shifted the development just a little, but she couldn’t have completely mucked up destiny, could she?

A little desperation crept into the kiss and she wound nervous fingers in his hair, holding him to her despite no attempts yet to pull away. Her other hand was still caught in his, softly soothing each other as a storm of something swept them both away. His tongue meeting hers was like the biggest relief, soothing her greatest agony. It was real; he had to feel something for her to kiss her like this.

Sharp human teeth nibbled at her bottom lip and she whimpered against him, wishing the voices she could hear would just change realities and be somewhere else. Finally she was getting what she wanted and it felt too amazing to be ever interrupted. Which of course meant it had to be.

“Ahem, Buffy? S-sorry to er, disturb you, but Xander is here with his diseases.” Giles looked away from the moaning pair and waited till reality came back to them, shifting feet as he rather desperately searched for something interesting to look at.

Buffy reached that reality rather rudely as Spike spluttered his hilarity in her face.

“Slayer said he was gonna be sickly; didn’t mention diseases. Ooh, what kind? Leprosy? Are all his bits going to fall off? See, you lot should ‘ave let me drain the whelp before he became all useless. Oh wait, he always was. What I meant was, before he became all spotty and sweaty. Oh oh, wait…I mean—“

“Shut it… Spike,” came the disjointed and weak defense from his position on the couch, a very pasty and deathly pale Xander taking refuge under a little blanket with his strange sex-fixated girlfriend by his side.

Buffy got to her feet, disappointment showing on her face as she turned from Spike and rushed to Xander.

“No need to panic. Remember? We know how to cure this and you’ll be all with the better in time for my famous pumpkin pie.” Buffy smiled her confidence, her former weariness miraculously banished by the invigorating effects of Spike’s kiss.

“That’s…great, Buff. How many times have you…made that pie again?”

The smile slipped fractionally, and as much as he might be healed within a few hours, his sickness now was acute and he deserved to be lied to. In the name of friendship.

“Oh tons and tons. It’s my very best dish. You just wait and see.” She was on her feet and quickly fussing all the way back to the kitchen, barely glancing at Spike as he followed her and wrapped his arms around her waist, smirking into her hair as she ignored him yet allowed her body to jiggle deliciously against his as she whipped the hell out of her bowl of condensed milk. Was enough to make a bloke humiliate himself in his pants. Firm breasts rubbed against his arms and he felt himself tense, doing his own little provocative dance. His erect cock prodded her hard as he positioned himself between the little valley of her legs.

He caught his hand just as he prepared to explore other sensitive spots, feeling hopeful when he saw the string. She’d strapped the turkey and there was left over twine. Perfect. While Buffy was distracted, eyes closed against his probing length and rhythmic stroking, he pocketed the sting in the back pocket of his jeans. He might need his duster for more of the little goodies he could purloin in this place, but all of it could be good in his escape plan, leaving behind a stretch of bodies annoyingly missing his very distinctive puncture marks, but dead nevertheless.

The Slayer never noticed, instead she put her bowl down carefully on the bench and turned to wrap herself around him, feeling the loss of control as she pulled his head back to hers.

Spike felt himself giving in to the hypnotic stroke of her tongue, but not before he snapped up the stray box of matches on the counter behind her. He had one eye openly fixed on the large butcher’s knife too, but would definitely be needing the cover of smooth leather to get that little beauty out from under her nose. As he finally closed his eyes and let himself admit that this thing between them wasn’t as emotionless as he liked to believe, all hell broke loose.

And seemingly before he even blinked, there was a bloody bear.
 

Chapter 11:

Thanksgiving had denigrated into a gigglepalooza with the girls, each burst following one of Xander’s little retellings.

“You made a bear. Undo it. Undo it.” The table erupted with laughter while Spike glowered from behind his ropes once again, tighter than the last time and pinching like a bitch.

“That’s the way, Whelp. Laugh it up. Just you watch your back, ‘cause one day ole Spike is gonna have one helluva day.”

“What? With your little pieces of string and your matches? You would have been a big puddle of Spikey goo on the floor before you could even charge us with the knife.” Xander sat back and speared another slab of turkey, stuffing his mouth full and grossed everyone with his grin around the blockage.

Buffy kept her head down, keeping the amusement to herself so she didn’t upset Spike anymore. She had to give him credit. His attempt to take them down in the middle of the Chumash invasion was quite ingenuous, if he’d taken into account that he couldn’t hurt them with anything, not just his fangs. He was all consumed with the sullen now, and Buffy just ached to lean over and hug him. He looked so cute, like a little boy who’d had his favourite teddy shelved for bad behaviour.

Buffy was sitting to his left, her hands itching to feel him up under the table, and she would’ve, if she knew for sure he wouldn’t yell at her. Yelping would be fine, though. She could scratch him behind the…right, “Peas anyone?” The bowl of peas was passed back and forth, nice and mushy just like Giles proclaimed to like them.

Spike licked his lips as he saw the bowl land back on the table in front of him. Apparently he was to be punished with starvation while sitting in front of a table groaning with food. It wasn’t bleeding fair. The cruel lot had even put a plate down at his seat, occasionally ribbing him about having to eat like the pig the Slayer always had claimed him to be.

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?” Buffy whispered in his ear, and despite the yearning he had for one spoonful of those mushy peas, it was a dish much more tasty that first flickered in his mind. He was pretty sure his leer did the trick as Buffy’s cheeks fired up and she dropped her eyes to her own plate.

“Thanks, pet,” he replied as he made the decision to take it easy on her as well as himself. “I’d love some peas and gravy. Bit o’ mash would be tops, too.”

He watched in fascination as the tiny girl he’d been aching to kill for so long served him up a huge dollop of mash and peas, and then covered with a healthy dose of gravy. It warmed him up in the way Dru always had when she took such pains to gift him with some special human to feed on. It was like she actually cared.

“Would I be pushin’ it if I asked for some blood in that, and then for you to mix it all up together?”

Buffy merely grinned and gave him a quick kiss before almost skipping to the kitchen. Spike nearly felt his dead heart skip beats as she bounced back with a mug half-filled with heated blood. Buffy remained standing as she poured the blood on his dish, trying to keep the activity mostly hidden from the other diners who were conspicuously ignoring the both of them. She stirred it all together and Spike could feel himself salivating and eager to tuck in. Right up until he noticed he was still tied up.

Just as he sighed in defeat—knowing they weren’t going to let him go so soon after his failed attempt to kill them all and run to safety—she shifted her chair closer, and took the fork in her hand. Something unfamiliar shifted in his gut—and in his groin too, but that one he recognised—and he watched her with awe in his expression as the tongs of the fork gently poked at his lips.

He opened up and took in her offering, gladly ignoring all the gagging noises from the other end of the table.

“Now Xander, I think it’s cute. They obviously will be having orgasms by the end of the night.” Anya smiled, then grimaced as a projectile pea flew into her face. “Fine, I was only trying to be supportive. You didn’t have to spit in my face.” She sat back and huffed in her seat, throwing her napkin onto her empty plate as Xander’s focus shifted from the events at the end of the table and back to making his girlfriend feel all secure in his…well, passion again.

Spike remained oblivious to it all, just watching this girl who had barged in and ruined all his plans since he first rolled into this dead end town. Oblivious to all but one word, and as it rolled around in his brain he could feel his body react to it and strain towards the Slayer.

Orgasm.

It was just what he needed, and even though he was still balking at the possibility that he felt kind of alright about getting them from the little blonde with more power in her small frame than she knew what to do with, he was left feeling taut and pained as he waited for such an eventuality.

He could think of only one option. She seemed pretty keen on him for reasons he had no clue at fathoming, so he’d take advantage while the offer was there. Who knew where it could lead to? An accidental draining certainly wouldn’t be amiss.

With new determination, Spike gulped each forkful of food she brought to his lips, staring at her and seducing her with his eyes. He knew they were pretty. Dru had harped on it for enough years, and even Angelus and Darla had made the odd comment here and there. So, while he couldn’t give a piss about learning how to thrall, this bird was already hanging off him with no effort, so he knew he could entice her to anything with the softness of his eyes.

He was finished, his stomach settled with a little bit of blood and his raging hard on craving another kind of feed. He could feel the heat of her body without even touching her and he couldn’t wait to get out of this chair and get her alone.

“Right. Think I’m ready for the telly again now, Slayer. Best you get me in there and chained up in the tub again.” Spike didn’t know if she just wanted to be finished with the meal or if she saw that little glint in his eye that promised her some touching, but she was up and releasing him from the ropes before he could wrap his head around it.

Their pace to the bathroom was far from leisurely, their audience left eyes boggling as they disappeared and the lock clicked in place.

Buffy’s back hit the door as Spike leaned over her, his now free hands fisted in her hair. They both remained still, Buffy barely breathing though inwardly laughing as Xander spluttered and begged for someone to help Buffy with the versatile beast that had her trapped in the bathroom.

“Oh for goodness sakes, Xander. You are surely old enough to know that Spike has taken her in there so they can have some hot and raunchy sex. Would you rather they knocked everything off the table and had orgasms right here in front of you?”

The abrupt fit of choking was enough of an answer and Spike chuckled as he buried his face in her neck, quickly losing himself as he smelt his previous claim on her skin. He felt the rise of his demon and a very low but possessive growl was ripped from his throat and Buffy shuddered against him.

“You know I’m going to eat you,” Spike whispered, his voice husky as the coolness of his breath rustled her hair.

In one jarring twist his own back slammed into the door, the overloud announcement of ‘boisterous sex’ the last thing he heard from the other room before her lips were on his and her hands were all over his body, seeking out places an innocent girl with only Angel experience should never boldly go.

Seconds ticked by against the swirling frenzy of her tongue against his own and Spike was forgetting his mission, finding his own hands on a search and mark mission of her more easily accessible parts. He’d just pulled the top over her head, gotten some button snagged in her hair and pulled more than a few strands out as he battled to pull it totally free of her body, when the inevitable happened.

The knock was dull against the door as it bounced against his spine. Groaning loudly he dived on Buffy’s throat, knowing he was running out of time and if he didn’t at least sink in his fangs he was going to explode from pent up lust. His fangs slid in nicely, and before he could even finish flinching from the expected pain, he could hear Buffy’s squeaking inquiry to whoever was on the other side.

“B-Buffy? I, really kinda need to use the bathroom,” Willow called through the door, her voice kind of odd as she waited for the vamp’s insulting invective for her interrupting something that was obviously meant to be private.

Buffy was still as a statue, ever wary that she had fangs in her throat but telling herself that he wasn’t flinching in pain, so had no intention of hurting her.

“Just a minute, Will. Be right out.”

The growl at her throat seemed to conflict with her promise, but instead of getting more intensely terrified that Spike was about to kill her, Buffy felt a warm glow almost bursting through her body and ripping her sense apart. “Oh God.”

He sucked at the blood flowing slowly into his mouth and the tension coiled tighter in his body. Frantically he undid his zipper and urged Buffy’s hand to hold him, showing her how to squeeze and stroke him in rhythm to his shallow sucks.

They both moaned loudly and bucked against the door, completely lost to those that they’d left on the other side. Before she knew it, Buffy felt his cool fingers against her, not even knowing when it was he managed to undo her own slacks. It didn’t matter because he was inside her, fingers and fangs teasing and inflaming, and as maddeningly insane as it was, holy God she was going to pass out with pleasure.

Buffy screamed, an ear piercing testimony to Spike’s skill as he lapped at her throat, soothing the mark even as he spurted in her hand. The haze that covered them lingered, feeling like the build-up to release had yet to be reached until with slow and steady breaths they came back to reality, Buffy euphoric while Spike stared at her in horror, small droplets of her blood still lingering on his lips.

And then Spike pulled abruptly away, tucked himself back in and quickly righted his pants, staring at the bare glimpse of her pussy until she blushed and followed suit. Buffy rushed over to the basin to wash her hands, pat cold water on her face and hope for the best. She seriously doubted that their activities had been missed by those eavesdropping outside. She was suddenly extremely keen to leave the cleaning up till tomorrow and get home to her dorm.

Buffy refused to look at him as she flung the door open, smiling a humiliated and uncomfortable smile at her friend as she moved from the doorway and left the flat.

Fingers at her throat and tears in her eyes, Buffy contemplated the beautiful passion mixed with Spike’s horror and disgust.

And found her way back to her dorm with a vision severely blurred.
 

Chapter 12:

Buffy was sizzling; anticipation making her completely crazy. God, she’d been busy. Recognising the time for what it was and making sure everything was prepared, then acting suitably upset for her friend while she wanted to jump the moon in delirious excitement.

So, it was kind of freakish that she had these conversations with her friends and then jumped afterwards with an almost intimidating sense of déjà vu, but still, so much was going the same way and Buffy was ecstatic with the hindsight that now came with the remarks. It was like, patrol with Willow. Pre-days when she had no clue of the way her life would travel, she had the truth right under her nose, wafting heavily with the rightness that pointed out the wrongness that was Riley, only she was too blinkered to pay herself any attention.

She’d been so with the right; intensity and passion with Riley had been doomed from the start. There could be no fire in sedate friendly picnics. He never got her blood pumping with the fight. She needed what came with fighting Spike. It was almost like it was pre-ordained only she was too stupid to go along with the Higher Powers that knew best. They must have been so frustrated with her whole ‘normal’ phase. And the damage she’d done to Riley. It was so of the unnecessary when she had sublime hotness and passion in easy grasp. Yep, love was all about the pain and fighting…but the good stuff was triple the normalness of a picnic at Rhode’s Field.

So, the tiny struggle Buffy had had about whether to warn her friends about what was about to happen or to leave it to pan out, came much too easily after thinking about Spike and his expertise in the bathroom over Thanksgiving. He’d pretty much ignored her since, never getting close enough to do anything but throw threats of killing her way. It made Buffy scowl at him, but grin inwardly at how cute he truly was. And almost pant at the opportunity she knew was coming up.

Her guilt over using Willow’s pain was short-lived. Thoughts of how Willow would tear her out of Heaven the first chance she got sort of blinding her to the other girl’s pain. True, she’d been kinda blind to it anyway, but still…vampire goodness in the way of wedding rings.

Buffy grimaced in memory of the ugly skull ring she was going to have to accept momentarily, then let herself dream happily over the matching gold band set she’d kept with her Justice of the Peace who was on a handy standby, papers and all organised and made legal, despite a few loops in the proceedings.

She’d been lying in bed for a while, way too excited to sleep even though she’d pretended for much longer than she thought she could stand. The second after Willow had gathered her things and tiptoed out of their room and to the bathroom, Buffy was out of bed and spinning with silent squeals of excitement. It was really happening, and if she played her cards right, by the end of the day she’d be Mrs. The Bloody with a very non-Mr Big Pile of Dust. She was so on board with the shady wedding and the consummation of said union. She itched and ached and burned with so much excitement it was all she could do to hold in the screams.

Buffy was in mid-jump when a little click from down the hall alerted her to sudden Willow invasion and she barely shot back into her bed in time, trying to calm her breathing enough that she didn’t make her friend aware that she was awake and making sure it all went off with every hitch it was meant to.

As Willow settled miserably back in her bed—Buffy’s guilt dimming her grin just a little—the blonde settled comfortably into oncoming sleep and dreams of the ‘come true’ variety.

And waited for the games to begin.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was just SO hard to keep the anticipation out of her voice while Buffy attempted to commiserate with mopey Willow. When the phone finally rang to say Spike had escaped, Buffy could barely stop long enough to toss her excuses at her friend. She knew it was harsh, but Wills was better for it all in the end. They all loved Tara, Will found out vital information about herself, and everything was all hunkey dorey except for Buffy and her Spike lovin’.


That squeal she’d been holding in since Willow disappeared to do her spell the night before? Was so let out when she literally bumped into Spike standing in the middle of campus, his whole face looking like he’d swallowed several beetles and he was just as confused by how they got into his mouth in the first place.

“Spike,” she shouted, launching all five feet three inches of herself into his more than capable arms. Buffy’s legs wound around his waist and she took no time to claim his lips, despite the spluttering protests and efforts to get her off him without making his chip fire.

“Bloody hell. Can’t a vamp cop a break?”

She slapped an enthusiastic hand over his mouth and almost growled her command he shut up, looking rapidly around them to make sure no one heard him before smacking her lips back to his, squeezing him between her legs so that he almost dropped to his knees, eyes threatening to pop out of his face.

“So, whatcha doin’?”

He gave her one of his incredulous looks and abruptly dropped her to the grass. Her butt hit the ground hard and she whimpered as she stood and dusted the debris off her olive pants.

“Are you completely daft? I’m…escaping?” He had started out so furious, finishing up in that sweet confused little voice he had when he just had no clue.

Buffy grinned happily and shook her golden locks as she linked her arm in his and began to walk him back to Giles’s, so buoyed up by her impending nuptials. His proposal was just going to be the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.

“Not so with the much. You looked kinda lost.” She said it in a way that conveyed how much she was not caring if he was concerned that he was lost, and so excited that he was where he was…namely at the end of her arm.

“You know that they have a cell on hold for you at the funny farm, Slayer.”

“Is it right next to Dru’s?”

She backed off at his growl and instead attempted to distract him.

“So, it’s such a pretty night. See all those stars all twinkly and oblivious?”

He dragged her to a stop and just watched the light on her face, marvelling at her very obvious happiness at being in his presence. He’d tried so hard to forget the things she’d said when she didn’t know he was hiding behind trees and could hear her every word. She’d seemed to know his heart so well, better than a Slayer possibly could without spending some quiet time with him. And that was something they had never gotten around to.

They’d been made to fight each other. To punch, kick, hit, bite and maim. He thrived on the chase, the hunt. Thrived on his hobbies, the ones that meant the Slayer was food and a worthy challenge, not someone he wanted to shag into the middle of next week and every week beyond that.

But the thing was, she had known. She’d been acting bizarre since the second he came across her that day he’d finally found the answer to all his Slayer-sized problems. The day she’d seduced invincibility right off his finger. Since then he hadn’t been able to get rid of the aggravation of her moon-eyes and arousing fragrance. And now she’d made sure he was helpless and at her mercy. He was buggered if he should be proud of her ingenuity, or completely brassed off that she’d destroyed his unlife.

Still, he couldn’t go past the look of wonder on her face as she stared straight into him.

“You really see me, don’t you, pet?” It was incredible to think that she could, and yet he knew that she did. Felt it inside every time he thought to do violence against her and hers.

And then he felt his body shudder as she raised a shaky hand and cupped the side of his face. The Slayer was looking at him with such longing and happiness that he almost gasped. It was so new, unheard of in his world that a human, and an enemy no less, could have this much grasp of who and what he was. It scared the piss out of him.

“I really see you, Spike.” And her lips closed over his once again, the soft lushness making him melt beyond any expectation he’d come to have.

Her voice had been so sincere, so full of truth and he just couldn’t believe that he had seemingly found this acceptance in someone he’d been raised to hate and kill. That he still planned to kill, and preferably in a blood draining kind of way, because her blood was delicious and made him forget his own mind.

There was nothing hard in her embrace this time. She was all soft, stroking his hair at the nape of his neck in a soothing, hypnotic fashion and he thought he could finally see whatever vision could explain her fixation with him. Didn’t understand it, but could maybe see what it was for her. And so easily lost track of time.

He didn’t even question the urge that had him on one knee, running his hands nervously through his hair as he whipped off his silver skull ring and offered it to her.

“It's just so sudden. I don't know what to say.” Buffy admired the ring and then suddenly looked at him fearfully, uncertainty shining in her eyes. “I mean, you are asking me to marry you, right?”

She sounded so hopeful, so close to having her heart broken if he wasn’t serious that he almost gushed like prat-like William.

“Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on earth.” And he couldn’t stop smiling, feeling it all course through him and making him so blindingly happy for the first time he could ever remember.

He loved this woman; loved her faults, her strengths, loved that she was his enemy yet could see so deep inside him that she could find love. He just couldn’t imagine any more of his unlife without her. She was simply essential. Dru had known it, had pushed him into returning and getting that little bit closer to the reality of his heart.

It was completely Buffy-shaped. He was a vamp in love and he would devote every second he had left on this earth to making his woman happy, even if it killed him.

“Oh, Spike! Of course it's yes!” She jammed the ring on her finger, frowned when it slid right off again, and stubbornly pushed it back and closed her fist to hold it in place.

“Oh.” He almost collapsed with the word, so relieved that poncy William wasn’t going to be left alone and foolish this time. William the Bloody was getting married and a match more worthy he’d never find. She was his love, his life, and his forever.

They collapsed in a tangle of euphoria, arms wrapped tight around each other as they found refuge in their happiness, not caring who looked on, who saw their display and became dejected with sadness and futility.

He was marrying the Slayer. Spike and Buffy. Buffy and Spike.

Nothing had ever been more perfect.
 

Chapter 13:

Buffy could feel everything blur as the words moved through her. “I do.” It was so simplistic and yet it capped off every dream she could have ever spent time asleep for. God, she loved him so much. Her body ached for him in ways she shouldn’t be able to imagine, but looking into his eyes remnants of memories that hadn’t yet occurred took her breath away.

She knew him. Knew his past and his future with equal veracity. She’d been showered with a truth that could make her world so much brighter, despite the required future in the dark. She could map his body, show her devotion to every inch of him and not hurt him. Not ever again would she hurt such a man that could love her so deeply. So ultimately.

The way he breathed his own oath, the way he sucked her in with that awed look was enough to completely win her heart and Buffy knew she could never let this go. Could never surrender her future to moments without him if it meant more lies.

They shared the pleasure of claiming the other with a ring, names and love engraved as a testament to the future she had ensured. Buffy was teetering on a giddy high, both wanting to rush out and show her friends what she had done, who she was now joined with in life, and yet wanting desperately to experience finally all that pleasure the Powers had assured her was there for her if she chose wisely.

This time she had, and the blush that settled over her skin with his first kiss as her husband made up her mind. Lovin’ first, then announcement second. Surely her friends could understand waiting for knowledge of something this big. She was so madly consumed with love that absolutely nothing could stand in the way of this moment.

It was that second when it was all settled, when it was all acknowledged that they meant the world to each other that she whispered their destination in his ear. Her body shivered when he growled lustily into her neck and she couldn’t help but drag him through the night and to his car. It was an ugly beast of a guy car, but if it got her where she needed to go, who was she to complain?

For the first time that Buffy could remember, she was beyond happy that her mother was out of town on business. The honeymoon could begin in the bed that she’d never given him permission to sleep upon. Which of course didn’t mean that he never would have in that diverted future, only that she had been pushed into agreeing rather than making the offer out of want. From her heart.

Spike hadn’t stopped staring at her with such an intense look of love since she had announced a way they could get married immediately. Buffy and Spike felt thoroughly confused as to why she had rings and a Justice of the Peace already waiting; they just smiled and agreed it was obviously sanctioned by something much greater than they were and raced off to keep a wedding date before they could be charged to wait.

They hadn’t stopped fawning over each other through the ceremony, Spike so intoxicated by his love’s spirit and enthusiasm that he could barely concentrate on anything but the scent of her hair or the need to feel her body clasped tightly to his.

“I’m so happy,” she said over and over again through the ceremony and in his car, snuggled up under his arm while she delivered loving kisses to his chin and his lips whenever the lights allowed.

And so was he. There was something that had always tingled when he was around this girl, something other than the signature that warned him of enemy. He was a fool for thinking all this time he could kill her and be happy. It was more than obvious that he was meant to dust in this girl’s arms and be buggered if she was human and the Slayer to boot.

Spike nearly keeled over in amazement when his wife shyly led him to her bedroom. His wife. He couldn’t wipe the sappy grin off his face. It felt like he’d consumed a gutful of sugar and he had never acted this happy, this carefree and delirious with the knowledge his love was for once reciprocated. Well, maybe once when his mum had been so effusive in her love for his work. Even if it was all rot and she was suffering a mother’s misguided love.

This was different. This was a woman taking him as her mate for life, binding herself tightly to him in name as she asked him to bind her to him in body. He should have been shamed with the ease of how fast he jumped her. Should have been, but couldn’t get past the pleasure that just being near her brought to him.

And now he was on that little ledge before he consummated his love with the woman of his dreams and he knew that one little step would make him a man almost completely debilitated with happiness. It felt almost shocking that this kind of bliss could even be possible. Could be reachable for the likes of him. But his fingers had more than flicked over it and now he wanted to grab hold tight with his whole hand.

When he looked at Buffy he saw such goodness and soul, felt such a need to make her happy and safe that he felt tears forming with his fear of failure. She was the star that had guided him through his unlife for the past two years, only he had never been willing to give her the credit, only the pain. It had to stop. Now that she was his wife, he would ensure that she never was hurt by his hand again.

Spike couldn’t help but watch disbelievingly as Buffy kept her eyes in his and began to unbutton her top. It was a very formal white satin blouse with a large pointed collar, and it was so shiny and beautiful he was almost William-like in wanting her to leave it on. But Spike wanted to touch her, finally explore the promise of her body and embed himself completely in her heart. He knew it was time for them to join as husband and wife and now the hesitation was gone.

While he’d been ruminating the virtues of her virginal looking wedding wear, she’d managed to take it off and drape it over her vanity chair. She was breathtaking and Spike couldn’t help the shake in his hand as he reached to touch the bared flesh of her bronzed shoulder, tracing a finger along the strap of her bra and sucking in breath as he pulled one of them down and exposed the outer curve of one breast.

Buffy gasped and was overwhelmed with tears of happiness as the sensation of his cool finger drifted over her skin. When his thumb began a slow rub over her nipple, a deep fire curled outward from her belly to inflame her whole body. The moment, the day, nothing had been less than perfect and Buffy was so happy she felt like screaming it to the world. If she didn’t want to feel him naked with her so badly, she’d run all the way to Giles’ screaming her news and hugging all her friends.

The waiting had already taken too much time, too much of her life, and Buffy found quickly that she had no patience remaining. She wasn’t going to stand there and swap soppy lovey expressions with her man while she had a bed waiting for them to occupy. That bed deserved to be rumpled and writhed on and the smell of sex to infiltrate her virgin sheets.

When it seemed like Spike had stalled with that one sensual move and got caught in looking at her wondrously, Buffy decided enough was enough and she wasn’t called Action Girl for nothing. In a precursor of things to come, she pounced. Grabbed Spike by the fly of his too tight black jeans, reefed the buttons from their holes and tossed him roughly to the bed.

Astonished blue eyes shot open and then a grin of pure seductive sex flashed across his lips. Heavy boots thunked to the floor and jeans followed. Within the blink of her eyes, he was naked and smirking, watching her in a predatory fashion he seemed to have patented as Buffy slipped her long lavender skirt over wiggling hips, breasts bobbling at his appreciative leer.

It was almost like they couldn’t speak, all desire for each other relayed through looks and touches that enflamed and quenched as they went. Buffy crawled up the bed over his body and stopped as her breasts rested teasingly on his chest and her legs straddling his. The insides of her thighs burned where his hairs tickled her flesh and Buffy felt no other option but to lean in for a kiss.

Sensation exploded behind their eyes as a meeting of their lips became sensory overload; heat and taste mixed within a need to be past the learning and well into the knowing. Buffy was beyond needing to explore, she needed the possession that came with giving herself to someone else to care and cherish and love.

Spike’s arms wound around her and her body was crushed full length against his, his feet and knees holding her tight and clasped together against his over-eager cock. He flipped her easily, and with the move he suddenly felt a small release of the pressure and he slowed the kiss down, relishing in her taste and softness as he became lost in this new reality.

He, William the bloody, Spike, was married, and he was about to ravish his wife in her girlish bedroom while her mum was busy in another city. It was both evil and succulent yet fraught with symbolic purpose. She was switching from an innocent girl to his eternal partner. He wondered if she knew what it would mean to grow old by his side.

His lips slipped from hers and explored her cheeks, finding wet eyelids to kiss and encourage his own tearful response to the moment. He linked hands with her, smoothing a finger over the polished gold band that proclaimed her his. It filled a deep gaping hole that he had spent a century ignoring the existence of. He’d talked himself into believing Dru had filled it; but now he knew it was a lie. His inner William needed this girl, this woman that lay beneath him crying happy tears that they were at last together.

This was a celebration and Spike felt himself getting all morbid, letting tears get in the way of a good first time shag with his lady and so to change the tone, he nipped at her neck. Growled in her ear and jerked a leg over his hip. While he bathed his marks on her throat, he rubbed his length against her slippery heat and nearly lost himself in the pleasure of almost reaching the prize. He rolled his eyes at the obvious git moment and began to push his swollen head against her folds, groaning as her opening spread little by little and engulfed him in volcanic fire.

Blood surged to his cock with a thunderous gallop and he felt the pulse like agony until he’d managed to slide all the way in. He could feel the stretch of her flesh, the pounding of her heartbeat against the spongy walls surrounding him and he forgot he didn’t need to breathe and began to gasp and suck in oxygen.

Buffy moaned and arched under him, letting her body strike shocks with the carnal contact. Her hands didn’t seem to understand what to do, ghosting over his hair and his shoulders to his hair again, pulling him back to her lips. It was so fitting that her first time with her husband would be so intense, surpass by huge heights the schoolgirl fantasy of Angel.

Angel. The name did nothing to her anymore. No flinching, no pinching at her heart. The space had been vacated entirely to make way for a love much larger than the piddly little scraps her first love could offer. And now that he was inside her and she was blurred to all but flashing white hair above her face and soft pink lips, Buffy felt a smile of wonder form on her lips.

“I love you,” she breathed against his mouth and then she showed him, lifting her hips in encouragement for him to move. For him to show her what it should always have been like, and to learn how it was always meant to be.

He could feel it. Her love was like a flame between them, so obvious and powerful and beautiful and it left him awed. There was nothing left for him to do but to show her, to fill her all the way up and show her what he could do to the woman he loved and cherished with all his heart.

He sunk in deep, feeling pain as her walls reacted and squeezed him lovingly. But he thrived on pain; found the most acute pleasure in that little twist of his length as he felt the itch and strain of his balls to unload.

The friction was killing him, her nails embedded in the skin of his back making his body shake in urgent restraint. There was almost nothing to be done to get her off. He could feel the swirl in her womb that was pushing hard to explode in release through her body. Felt it in depths he’d been unaware he had. Knew she was awaiting just one thing and that would be it for her and he could end the torment of this passion before he felt himself ripped to shreds.

“I love you, too. Sweetheart?”

Something flashed as she gripped him hard, her thighs holding him tight as the room swirled and he was caught in the middle of awareness and meltdown. His hips continued to pound into her as he looked around the room, looked underneath him and swore he was going to rip someone’s head off for this.

The bitch underneath him was the perfect choice.

“You manipulating little—”

And she flipped him, biting his lip hard as she bounced on his still turgid cock, rubbing her sensitive nipples over the smoothness of his chest. His hands didn’t know what to do, where to grab to toss her the hell off him, and yet he vamped, snarling and spitting obscenities that made her do the exact opposite of what he convinced himself he actually wanted.

She squealed at his imagery, bending lower and lower until his fangs were teased too much to stay out of her pain inducing throat. He pounced, blood shooting into his mouth as pain exploded simultaneously from his head and fluid from his cock.

Buffy screamed in an overload of ecstasy, embarrassment coming only when she noticed her open window and the throbbing of every cell of her body. Spike’s fangs slid easily from her neck and Buffy felt the beginnings of guilt. She had manipulated. Why didn’t she think of the impact of these things until it was too late?

And now he was dead. She’d killed him with unbelievable sex.

Buffy stayed in position, feeling the security of a semi-hard cock still placed inside her as she watched the unconsciousness that was her husband. And despite knowing she was bad and wrong and she didn’t deserve this happiness that swelled inside her, she couldn’t help but smile at her achievement.

He couldn’t reject her now. Could he?
 

Chapter 14:

Apparently that was a yes. He so could, and once he’d regained consciousness, he did. He took one look at the smugness that was her and threw her across the room, almost blacking out again from the pain that ripped through his skull like a bitch. Or a Buffy, seeing as how she was the epitome of one.

As Buffy lay in an uncoordinated mess on her bedroom floor, she could be the big person and acknowledge it. She couldn’t blame him for being angry. She had to have the control over everything, and no amount of thinking that he would eventually love her could make her get back to believing what she’d done wasn’t pretty much what he said. Manipulative. Just call her Buffy the Vampire Manipulator.

For the first time since sleeping three days away, Buffy could feel the cold hand of doom squeezing the breath from her lungs. She’d been so arrogant, so assuming in her unrepentant chase to have Spike be the vampire that he was going to be in two years time. How could she be so dense? How could she be so cruel?

Buffy stumbled to her feet, tears in her eyes as she gathered her clothes and put them back on, cringing slightly at the overly formal wear she’d purposely chosen for her wedding. On a broken sob she tore the ring off her finger, at last accepting that this was something she’d had no right to push.

It was beyond hard to let go. To back off and wait for those years of development and realisation before Spike could truly accept her. But at least she would be ready when he finally was. And hopefully he would still have their wedding rings to return to her finger when he did know how much he loved her.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m sorry. It was a spell. Willow cast it hoping she could make her heart stop hurting for Oz. I knew it was going to happen and instead of stopping her, instead of helping my friend through her grief, I took advantage of her and you. I am so sorry, Spike.” She placed the ring beside his naked thigh and ran from her room and the house, longing for somewhere darker than the night to let her hide and heal.

Spike watched her go and was so glad he shook. He couldn’t stop the fury from flooding his body, couldn’t stem the thoughts he had of killing her once and for all, and really couldn’t stop the little firing pulses that were frying his synapses with each violent thought he had.

It took a long time for him to calm enough to see the ring, and as he clenched it in his fist and prepared to fling it out her window, his own caught his eye and all those feelings he’d felt under the spell flooded through him until he was so confused his fist was just clinging to the metal, almost afraid to open and let it drop. What good would it do to toss it anyway? He could pawn it for smokes and booze. That’d teach her to bollocks up his unlife with bonds that were just flailing in stupidity.

He growled savagely as he gathered up each item of clothing, whimpering and snarling as he redressed and prepared to go out and hunt.

And then he slumped in defeat. She’d buggered up his entire life. Chip. What the fuck else was there left for him to do? Binge eat pig swill while he watched soapies on the watcher’s telly? Throw snarky comments at the Slayer’s pals and then run when they came to wallop the interfering vamp?

He was monumentally screwed, no matter which way he tried to turn it. Doomed to an existence on the middle-aged couch of non-demon life.

Hang about. She knew it was a spell? She knew it was going to happen and she didn’t stop her little redheaded friend in favour of having him as her husband? Spike frowned darkly as little snippets began to surge together. She knew things, like the attack of the Chumash and bears, knew he was going to go after Peaches for his ring, knew he would get this hardware in his head that would curtail his diet unfavourably, knew the extent of his love for the one he chose to bestow it on. He knew his heart better than his own family and she knew all the spots to touch to incite his passion.

She knew everything.

With a roar of outrage and a need to punish someone for keeping him in the shadows of the dark, he shoved arms through duster sleeves and slammed out of the house, striding with angry purpose to the Watcher’s house. Bloody good thing the wanker had a decent supply of booze because he was way beyond staying sober.

The whelp and his woman were there when he barged uninvited through the door.

“Where the bloody hell is your liquor, Rupes?” Spike stopped long enough to blink at the stack of glasses and one full/one empty bottle of scotch on the table; he rushed over, filled one to the brim and began to throw it back in his throat like it was water.

“Your bloody Slayer needs to be reprimanded.” His eyes flared yellow as he spat the angry demand out.

“You won’t find anyone here to disagree with you,” was the stuffy reply and Spike huffed, all the while refilling his glass. He saw heads nodding and he felt justified as he threw out suggestions.

“A good flogging wouldn’t hurt the bint. Teach her who can fool around with…” He stalled, wondering what exactly he was going to do and trying to figure out why she would do such a thing—to him or her friends. He would never have picked her for being such a bitch to the people she loved.

“She had demons chasing my poor Xander all night,” hiccupped Anya as she reached for her glass and tipped it to her lips, frowning when the smallest drop met her bottom lip. She turned the glass upside down and looked at it in surprise, making Spike laugh at how stupid drunk humans could be.

He skulled another glassful and sank into the buzz that was making him feel pleasantly relaxed as it fractionally dulled his need for violence.

Spike jumped when a very apologetic and nervous Willow came through the hall with a tray of cookies in her hand, placing them down on the table, careful to not nudge any glasses that were sitting there.

“Spike, I am so sorry—”

“Can it, Red. Had all the sorrys I can take for one day. I just want you to do a forgetting spell so I never have to think about this repulsive day for as long as I stay undusty. No way am I wanting to remember being in love with the Slayer. An’ what the bugger possessed you to will something so bleeding stupid in the first place?”

Another long swallow slid down his throat before Spike became aware of all the eyes staring at him in horrified fascination.

“Did you say love? ‘Cause from where I was being cursed, the mighty powerful Wills only wished you guys to get married.” Xander gulped at the furious blaze of amber that stared him down, grabbing for his protective glass of intoxicating goodness. If he was going to be eaten by Spike, he may as well be all with the not sober when it happened. Then he could claim defence of stupidity due to inebriation.

The anger slipped a little as Spike looked back and forth between the two sombre looking men and the empty bottle of booze began to click into focus.

“Balls. You blokes cursed too, huh? Who’d you lot fall in love with? Oh let me guess, you both rushed off to marry each other. Bet that went down well with the local Judge.” Spike snickered and offered another bottoms up to the pair, not quite ready to let go of that image in his head. It overshadowed the small sparks of pain that were still firing with his semi-violent thoughts about the Slayer.

“Er, no. No such luck,” Giles deadpanned as he grappled for something to look at, subconsciously backing up his own night of blindness. “It appears that Willow believes I don’t see.”

He stalled her as she started another flurry of apologies and pushed back the offered tray of cookies, smiling sadly as he endeavoured to explain.

“You were right, however. I have been blind on more than the odd occasion. I do tend to ignore what makes me feel uncomfortable.” Giles settled on his good standby glasses polishing and mentally made a deal with himself to be more insightful in the future.

“Oh,” answered Spike, quite mystified about the whole thing. “So, you were blind for the night? And the whelp had demons after him. Oi, how is that new?”

“Alas, you are right, Deadboy. I am a magnet for the demon love. But these wily fellers were out to tear the Xandman to shreds. Could have been a bit more specific with the will there, Wills.”

Willow hung her head in shame, then grabbed a handful of cookies and chewed around her desire to offer more apologies.

“So, while Xander was running like a girl from the demons, you were in love with Buffy?” Anya looked at Spike all bleary eyed from over imbibing and relief that the night’s ordeal was at an end. Her orgasms would be safe from demon interruptus tonight, thank D’Hoffryn. But her interest was more than piqued. She may be drunk but Anyanka had over a thousand years of picking up on vengeful wishes and this vamp was filled with something, and it wasn’t for being made to fall in love.

“Well, yeah,” he admitted rather hesitantly, wondering now which hole these Scoobies were going to bury him in.

“But I definitely only wished you both to get married. Trust me, when Buffy told us you were going to fall in love with her in the future, none of us were leaping up and down about it.” Willow’s bottom lip pouted, knowing she was in the wrong but slightly wounded that no one yet had let her off the hook about her pain over losing Oz.

“Hang on a bleeding minute. You wanted us bloody married and that’s just the by-product. What are you so surprised about?” He couldn’t help being defensive. After the night he’d had he could be excused for wanting to rip their heads off and kick them against a wall. He was willing to bet a couple of them were totally hollow.

“Nope. Ex-Vengeance demon here.” Willow’s cringe was easily ignored at this point as Anya set the group straight. “I’ve seen centuries of marriages that were based on many things, except love. If you loved her under that spell—and really Willow, I can completely see why Hoffy was so impressed—then you were absolutely in love with Buffy. It’s more than time you got used to it. We’ve all had to.” And her lips disappeared around another cookie, the so-called ex-demon moaning in pleasurable consumption. “These are really, really good, Willow. You can make guilt cookies whenever you like.”

Spike was slack-jawed as he contemplated what was said and then felt his ire rise once again. Flashes of words and feelings flew through his mind, connecting up with declarations from Dru, predictions that had made no sense but now nearly made his brain explode.

“Bloody NO. I wasn’t ready! Couldn’t you perverse bastards have given me the time to get to know it on my own? Now I’ve got that over my head and a Slayer that thinks she can push me into any situation that will benefit her because she’s got me by the short and curlies.”

“Ewww to that imagery. Pass me another cookie, honey.” Anya crunched her way through another of the sumptuous chocolate treats and waited for further explosion, only to have her eyes widen when she saw the shine of gold on his finger.

“YOU GOT MARRIED!” she yelled as she jumped to her feet, excitement having her pounce on the unsuspecting vampire and enveloping him in a warm welcoming hug. “Congratulations. You guys could have waited, though. I’m sure Willow and I would have loved to be bridesmaids.”

“Are you bloody daft, woman?” But inwardly William was grinning, before being shoved aside by Spike who strangely lamented the loss of fanfare and confetti. A piece of paper wasn’t a marriage. Spending lots of money was and he was sure Rupe’s pockets were plentiful with the dosh for his little Slayer.

Hang about, where did that frightening thought come from? Was he actually contemplating that he could get through this situation enough that he and the thorn in his bloody side could actually walk down an aisle for real?

Those warm fuzzy feelings struck him in the gut again, almost like little skittish beetles running laps around his insides. And then he remembered the feel of her scorching hot walls surrounding his cool pole and the sweet agony of coming inside her. Bleeding hell, he was.

Well, that just tore it. He was gonna have to crawl and possibly admit he might not be so far from loving her, if she could ever get her scheming head out of her arse long enough to look at him.

Bloody hell. Love’s bitch again. When would he ever learn?
 

Chapter 15:

“So…we’re married now, yeah?” A cigarette clung to his lip as he stubbornly stared at the crunched grass at his feet, revealing nothing of what he felt about that statement and leaving Buffy totally in the dark about whether she should be excited or prepare herself for defeat. Or was his being here, in front of her enough reason to hope?

She decided to be strong and damn the consequences. It was either now or never; he wanted her or he didn’t. They had something to work with or they could stay enemies. Her stomach roiled at that last possibility, but she’d tried so hard, maybe too hard and everything so far had backfired in classic Buffy way.

“Yes.”

No vague ‘yeah’ for her, nahuh! She’d be straight up and pop him in the eye with her very forward support of the marriage that was them. She had the certificate framed; she’d cleansed the finger that wore her ring—hopefully in preparation for the day he would give it back. She wanted it like nothing ever before and she’d die if he could never find it in himself to fall in love with her. If she’d ruined it all by jumping into the future and rearranging to her own design she’d be miserable until her next death.

It just wasn’t fair. She thought she could change her attitude early, accept him for what he was to become, and actually be happy. She’d just forgotten that his time frame wasn’t quite as desperate.

“You were playin’ me. Right from the start.” His eyes flashed, knowing it was true and if she denied it he’d blow out of this town so fast she’d be hard pressed seeing the back of his duster.

But she didn’t deny it. Instead, her shoulders slumped and her gaze hit the dirt at her feet with amazingly defeated speed.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry.”

“’Course you can’t, pet. You haven’t got your little container of biccies.” There was a smirk on his face when she looked up, only it faltered when he saw her quick swipe to remove escaping tears. As angry as he was for being made a fool, for being pushed into something that—according to the Watcher—wasn’t meant to happen for at least another year, it caused him some pain to see her cry. To see her break a little and her confidence to suffer a beating similar to the one his pride had suffered since crossing paths with her. She’d taken away his right to a slow realisation and he thought he’d wanted her to cry. Thought he’d get pleasure out of making her work hard for his favour and her wedding ring. Hardly surprising that he was wrong again.

His Anglo-language stumped her, and instead of continuing her miserable journey into failure, she piped up with a confused, ‘huh?’ and wished fervently that she had a jar of some of Willow’s ‘make things better’ cookies. How could he stay mad over sugary goodness? Nobody could. It was the sweet nature of sugar and baking.

He rolled his eyes, looked around and then strode to a taller grave, slinging his duster over the stone as he hopped up and took a seat, making himself as comfortable for this little discussion as he could with cold cement under his bum.

“You forced me into a wedding that I would under no circumstances have participated in.” His lips drew into a very hard, thin line while he waited for the argument that was sure to come, smiling when she didn’t disappoint.

“But it was a spell. Willow willed for us to—”

“Jus’ hang on there before you dig yourself in deeper. We both know that that JP you had on standby wasn’ just coincidental, and rings with our names engraved?” He raised a sceptical brow and she blushed.

Turning away from him, she knew at last that no matter what she could do now, it wouldn’t be enough. No one could fix a disaster like this. No one could explain away the need to force another being into a joining so sacred. And why did she need it? Buffy knew she could have waited. But when a girl was visited with dreams about the hotness that was her and Spike’s future, clashing violently with her ‘ripped out of Heaven’ backlash, she knew she had only so long to make her life be happy. Knowing the suffering both she and life would put Spike through, rushing them together had seemed like the obvious thing to do. They could be together sooner, longer and make with the happy before their worlds went to respective hells.

Her planning skills were as sucky as his.

Buffy looked up and saw a thick trunked tree in front of her, and found more courage in facing it than the deserving vampire behind her. And then a blur behind it caught her attention and she found herself confronted with army colours and a solitary man loaded up for a night of vampire hunting. His tazer was held aloft when he noticed it was her, and Buffy sighed. They didn’t need this. Not on top of everything else.

“Hey, Riley,” she greeted, losing herself in the threat of the moment as she instinctually moved to cover Spike.

She jumped when she felt cool hands around her waist and then almost burst into tears when he pulled her back against his body, holding her tight and possessively. Buffy moved reluctant fingers over his hand, covering her mouth when a sob rose to her lips as he threaded his fingers through hers and held her still tighter to himself. And in those seconds she’d forgotten. Forgotten what threat stood in front of her and prevented her from just walking away—in defeat or triumph, she wasn’t willing to fight over Spike. She wouldn’t lose him, so talking her way out of this confrontation felt like the best decisions she’d made for weeks. Months even.

The soldier hid his surprise that she knew him well. The ski mask was removed and he initiated a conversation that was quite obviously one that was a little more than confusing—but not quite as hurtful as he would have thought.

“I didn’t mean to spy, but I saw you last night.”

Buffy looked confused for a minute, and then her finger was tracing the cold metal of her husband’s ring and the proposal on campus came flooding back, bringing tears to her eyes that she’d been stupid enough to give her ring back to the one she’d taken advantage of. He’d probably tossed it out her window in a fit of temper. That’s what he did. She rather assumed that’s how Harmony disappeared from the scene so quickly.

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say; remembered the sections of her three day marathon sleep that in any other situation, she would have wasted valuable time getting to know this man and try to love him. She’d failed at that too.

The realisations were too much and she shrugged Spike away, choked on her sadness and ran from them. Ran from a situation that had gone completely wrong and left her in waiting for years of unhappiness.

She was almost at the backdoor of home when she tripped up the back step and collapsed on them, broken. Her cries were tortured, full of recriminations. What had been the point of the Powers giving her such valuable information when she had not the maturity to interpret the right course of action? Why did it always have to be cryptic and end up totally wrapped up in the bad?

As the step under her became more on the wet side than the weather actually predicted, Buffy remained oblivious to the approach of the one she ran from. Wanted to block him out and her humiliation for ever until she could grow and cope with it better.

“He said to tell you ‘congrat’s’. Was a bit more bloody pompous, but you get the drift. Christ pet, what could you have ever seen in an overgrown wanker like that?”

“How did you—?”

He grinned, just like everything was okay and he was pulling her leg. Except he really was, trying to shift her over so he could take up a spot right next to her.

“Your little band of followers filled me in. You should’ve told me.” He didn’t look at her, instead maintained his miffed expression as he stared at the stars.

“I was stupid. I thought I could make you love me faster.” She needed to do her nails. The pale pink polish was chipped but at least it wasn’t as obvious as if it were black.

“You played a dangerous game, luv. Brought aspects of me out that I would rather have stayed hidden. You weren’t ready to see—”

“William? He is sweet and tender and loving. He shows his whole heart with just a glance. Believe me, Spike. I was ready for him.”

She missed the amazement that flittered over his face as his eyes were torn from the night to settle on her power packed little self. She was a bloody marvel, she was. Wise beyond her years and he felt…proud. Yeah, like he’d found this little unpolished pearl that no one had even tried to string yet. And she wanted to be all his.

“William was a sap…a weak little wanker that didn’t know how to win.”

Her eyes burned into him with an intensity that he found off-putting. Wisdom was one thing, but he hated being the specimen under the microscope. Especially one that liked to study dust rather than the real being.

“Spike knows how to win, even while he’s losing.”

Her voice was heavy with conviction and faith and he faltered in his determination to make her sweat. How could he do that when she just automatically took his breath away with every sweet thing she said?

“Yeah, but he doesn’ want to be losing you.”

And the silence was almost a crack in the night, too loud in face of the hope that bloomed on her face and made her lower lip wobble. And then she was in his arms and crying hard, squeezing the stuffing out of him as she curled up against his body.

“Tell me you mean it,” she whispered hotly into his neck and Spike shivered. He couldn’t find the words, uncharacteristically stripped of the right things to say when he’d been faced with her eloquence this night. Instead, he delved into one of his deep pockets and fingered the little band of gold. He’d never taken off his own oath, and he was damned if he would ever let her take hers off again. Not without a bloody good wallopin’ and some choice words.

When he slid it back on her finger, he knew that no other choice could have been made. Dru had been right. The bleeding Powers had been right. He belonged to this girl and would do all in his power to deserve her. He was fighting uphill all the way, but he could try.

And like she said, Spike would always win.

With a mutual look they agreed. Buffy stood and pulled her vampire up, leading him to the backdoor of the still empty house and showed him the way back to her bedroom.

Sometimes a wedding night could be just as good the second time over.