The colour--whatever colour there was--drained from the vampire’s face, and his mouth was making a funny fish-out-of-water motion. Buffy repressed a giggle. Okay, this might be a little different than I’d imagined. “So, were you a ‘big bad’, like you are now?” By his reaction she doubted it, and damn it her curiosity was piqued.

Spike tried to regain his composure. Taking on an air of nonchalance, he scoffed. “It’s not important, is it? What’s past is past. Can’t really change it now, can we? How about we go by the docks over there and see if anything interesting’s going on...” Please don’t make me do this.

“Nah--this bench is too comfortable. Anyway, you seem to be on some sort of storytelling streak, so now’s a good time to talk away.” She loved doing this to him. Every squirm, every nervous tic--the Slayer was soaking it all in. Maybe the big bad had been a bit of a pussy cat... She decided to play a little with him. With a serious look on her face, she wondered out loud. “Oh my God! You weren’t Jack the Ripper, were you?”

Now he knew that she was teasing him. Letting out a laugh, he retorted. “Fuck off, Slayer. I’m not tellin’. A guy’s gotta have his secrets.” Yeah and the big secret’s that you were a wanker, a mother’s boy. A floppy-haired bad-poetry-writing geek. “I was just different.”

“Different in what way? Were you a priest? Were you in the army?” She wasn’t going to leave him be until she had every little detail. This was all too good to pass up.

Spike was getting nervous--mostly because his defences were beginning to fall. “Look, pet. The last thing I need is to give you more ammo to use against me.”

Buffy placed a hand on his arm, leaning in towards him. This was her last chance at getting him to talk. “Aw, come on, Spikey. How bad can it be?” She whispered in his ear, pressing herself up against his side. “Just tell me--it’ll be our little secret.”

She wants to play this little game, does she? Alright--let’s show her that two can play at this. “Ok. I’ll tell you--but only if you give me a kiss.”

The young woman shot away from him as if shocked. From the other end of the bench, she asked him: “What? Spike, you’re crazy if you think I’ll even come close to you.” Well, closer than I was, anyway.

Smug, the vampire smiled. “Have it your way, Slayer. I’ll just keep my sordid past to myself.” He knew that that would get her off his back. There was no way in hell that she would kiss him just to find out about William.

Buffy was pouting. When had this game turned in his favour? Sordid? That’s so not fair! She crossed her arms against her chest and pressed her lips together. Trying to keep her eyes anywhere but on the blonde vamp, she scanned her field of vision: there was an older couple out for a walk; she spied a small gang of teenagers near a lamppost, smoking and laughing; she even spent a while watching some workers unload crates off of one of the large ships. But her mind kept going back to Spike and his dare--or was it an offer?

She felt like pulling her hair out. Kiss Spike and find out about his past, or don’t kiss him and never know what he was like... Argh! “Fine! This is killing me. One. Kiss. And if you try anything funny, it’ll be ‘Hello Dustville’--got it?”

Wha? He’d been in mid-thought when she blurted it out. Was she really going for it? Was it worth divulging his last secret, just to get a kiss in return? Hell, yeah! “Ok, pet. Why don’t you slide down here--I don’t think it’ll work if you’re way over there.” He watched her intently as she made her way closer to him, trying her best not to touch him or his coat. When she sat still, lips in mid pucker he snorted. “No, luv. You kiss me. That can’t happen if you’re just sitting there doing your best impression of a sucker fish.”

The young woman opened her eyes and groaned. “Fine--get technical.” She placed her palm on his cheek, and brought his lips to her own. As her lips met his, she felt like an electric current passed through them.

This was all wrong. She meant to press her lips to his and to pull away, disgusted. She never expected his lips to be so soft, so inviting. He returned the kiss, cupping her neck with his hand. The embrace intensified, but remained chaste. After all, a kiss was all she promised--not a petting session.

They pulled away from each other, both in a daze, and stared at each other. Buffy’s cheeks were flushed, and Spike’s mouth had opened--he even seemed to be breathing hard.

“Ponce.”

Buffy’s brow creased when her mind worked out what he’d just said. “What? What did you just call me?”

The vampire chuckled softly. “No, pet--I’m talking about me. That is the reason behind our lip lock, isn’t it?” Not that it wasn’t bloody amazing.

The young woman relaxed, but didn’t distance herself from her companion. She remained pressed up against him, comforted by his proximity. “Ok, so you were a ponce. What’s that, anyway? Is it like a jerk, or something?”

“Nah, more like a... uhm... a nerd.” He hid his face in his hands as he waited for her reaction. One kiss wasn’t worth this--almost.

Buffy’s face was deadpan--until she burst out in a fit of laughter, losing her balance and falling off the bench. “You?! A geek?! That’s too rich!” Dusting herself off, she almost missed the slight change in his body language. He seemed to be sitting a bit stiffer and he was looking away from her. He couldn’t be taking it this bad, could he?

That’s when it hit her. William the Bloody, Spike the ‘Big Bad’; in his demon life, he had been overcompensating for what he’d been as a human: a wimp. Probably got beat up, or teased. Probably wasn’t very popular with the ladies either. Buffy felt sorry for him; she sat back down and put her hand on his shoulder. When he turned to look at her, she could see the anger and the humiliation in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry, Spike. It’s just, it’s not at all what I expected. I was bracing for, you know, you being a criminal, or something horrible.”

He took a deep breath, and accepted her apology without a word. “Well, William was horrible enough.” Raising his gaze to the skies, he went on. He knew he couldn’t continue if he was looking at her. “I was about as far removed from being a criminal as I am right now from being a priest. I had no friends--I only had Mother, whose coattails I hid under. I always had my nose in a book and I...” He moved his head away from her and mumbled, hoping she didn’t hear him. “andIwroteawfulpoetry.”

Buffy couldn’t help but smile at Spike’s shyness about the poetry. Funny enough, it didn’t surprise her. He just seemed like the kind of person to write poetry, now that she knew him better. “Really? You wrote poetry? I think that’s sweet--it’s romantic!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to suffer through it.” He paused a moment, and found the strength to face her. “No one else seemed to have such heartfelt notions about my poetry back then. The night that I was turned, I’d been to a party. There was a girl there--Cecily Addams. I was in love with her--or so I thought, anyway. Bleedin’ wanker I was, I bared my soul to her and she crushed it. She told me I was beneath her.” His voice seethed with the bitter memory. “So when Dru gave me the chance at finding my inner psycho, I thought ‘Hey, why not? My life can’t get any worse...’”

The Slayer bit her lip. “So... is that why you’re such a ‘big bad’? Is that just an image you got with the demon, or was Spike somewhere inside of William, waiting to be released?”

Her question floored the vampire. Was this the same girl who thought that he was going to dress her at McDonalds? “That’s a damn good question. I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t think that there was much of a brutal murderer in William, but he was headstrong, he didn’t follow what everyone else was doing, he simply wasn’t a conventional fellow. He was also a bloody sentimental fool--the demon never quite managed to quash that quality, though.”

“That’s the one thing about you that’s always puzzled me. I get the killing, I get the posturing, the duster--I get all the doom and gloom. But I never got the faithfulness, the romance, the love. I’ve never met a vampire like you--you’re so...” Buffy waved her hand around, frustrated because she couldn’t find an apt word. “...sentimental. No, that’s not it...”

“Dead sexy?”

The young woman raised an eyebrow. “Uh, no. Not that you’re not... Um. That’s not what I meant” Oh, God please stop blushing... “Passionate! That’s it!” She smiled, proud of herself.

“Passionate...” As the vampire sat there, mulling the adjective over--and whether or not it fit him (which it did, of course), he watched Buffy get up and walk to the railing at the edge of the river. She described him as passionate, and what he felt at that moment was nothing short of it.

He was sick of second-guessing his instincts. Yes, she was The Slayer. But she was also Buffy Summers--and whether or not he wanted to admit it, he was falling for her. No longer wanting to hold back whenever he was around with her, he walked out to where she was. They would never be Romeo and Juliet, all doe-eyed and innocent; they would be more like Benedick and Beatrice, with sharp tongues and a wit to match, forever duelling. He walked up behind her and placed his hands on the railing, capturing her between his arms.

Her Slayer senses were sounding the alarm. Surrounded by Spike, a powerful arm on each side and his solid chest in behind, barely touching her, she tried to gauge her own reaction. Was she afraid, as she should have been? No. She wasn’t fully at ease, either, though. Body tense, she felt a shiver pass through her as he pressed up against her. She pressed back, giving her assent, and his arms pulled in to circle her.

How desperate for affection was she, that the found herself in the arms of her mortal enemy? Oh, can it, she told her inner Slayer, that one’s getting old. They had been mortal enemies at one time, but as everything in the world evolves--nothing can remain unchanged by the tides of time--so had their relationship. Were they friends now? Yes, she thought so, at least. Did she have feelings for him? A definite maybe, bordering on yes. Did he have feelings for her? She hoped so.

The young woman turned to face him, the million questions in her head reflected in the vampire’s blue eyes. They stood there, intertwined by the edge of the Thames River, looking for answers in each other’s eyes, but finding only more questions.

The moment’s silence was broken by Spike, who was never really known for his patience. “Oh, bugger this!” He crushed his lips to hers in what he hoped was an effective display of the passion she saw in him.

Buffy tried to think, tried to react, but the feel of his soft, cool lips on her own erased all coherent thought from her mind. All that remained was something between ‘Oh God’ and ‘Yum’. She brought one hand to his face, tracing the sharp angle of his cheekbone; the other hand trailed to his waist, where she hooked a finger in one of his belt loops pulling him closer to her. She felt his erection press against her stomach and smiled into their kiss as she heard him moan.

Ok--so far she hadn’t punched him, kicked him, pushed him away or staked him. Better yet, she was returning the embrace with a zeal that matched his own. Spike’s tongue slid against her lips, seeking entry into her mouth. She parted her lips and welcomed him in. Their tongues duelled as the intensity of their kiss grew. It was no longer the fusion of two mouths, but of two bodies.

Buffy felt the railing press into her back, but she ignored it. All she wanted to think of was how good it felt to let go. She was having a major gropefest with an incredibly sexy vampire out in public, and she didn’t care who saw. She dragged her fingernails down his back, reaching for his rear end. She paused for a moment when she felt his face shift--she didn’t know if she was quite ready for that yet--but relaxed when his face took its human guise once again. Impressed at his self-control, she pulled him closer to her.

They pulled apart and rested their foreheads together, both panting. In between breaths, Buffy managed to find words. “Spike?”

“Yes, luv?”

“What was that all about?”

Pulling back a little so he could look her in the eye, the vampire searched for the right answer, to tell her what she wanted to hear. “Don’t rightly know, but I can tell you that I don’t for one moment regret it. That given the chance I’d do it all over again.” That must have been the right thing to say, because she smiled and hooked her arm around his waist.

As they made their way back to the car, Buffy decided to bring out into the open an issue she’d been mulling over. “So... when are we going to go to the Nex?”

Spike paused only briefly, the question surprising him. “I guess we should plan on going there pretty soon. We need to get on this guy’s trail before it goes cold. Why do you ask?”

The Slayer slipped her arm out from around him, and turned to face him, walking backwards. “Well, I’ve been thinking. About what we argued about earlier.” Seeing a ‘oh, not again’ look cross his features, she quickly continued. “No, I’m not up for another fight. Actually, I’ve been enjoying the getting along more than the fighting. What I’m thinking is that since we’re both in a good mood tonight, maybe we should go through with the biting when we get back to the hotel. That way we could go there tomorrow night.”

Although Buffy’s proposal shocked him, he didn‘t show it. He had expected to be the one reminding her, asking her night after night if she was ready yet; he never believed that she would be the one to bring it up, especially not that same night. Attempting to seem unaffected, he answered her. “I s’pose it makes sense. The bites wouldn’t be too fresh tomorrow night, and we are here for a higher purpose than shooting the shit at the base of the Tower of London.”

He unlocked the car doors with the remote, and opened the passenger door for her to get in. Before she had time to sit down, he took hold of her arm. “I’ll only go through with this if you’re comfortable. Last thing I need is for you to panic, or even worse to stake me.”

Buffy no longer doubted in her heart that Spike felt something for her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t balk at the chance to sink his fangs into her neck. Rising on the tips of her toes, she kissed him on the cheek. “I am comfortable. I am ready. Now if we wait too long, my resolve may just break...”

“Right then. In the car you go.” With a smirk, he gave her a little shove, and she fell into her seat. “We’ve got a very important task to work on. No need dilly-dallying in empty car parks.”

Well, here you go--13 reviews; Spuffy Realm readers rock! I just hope this lives up to your expectations...

They’d discussed this. Maybe not in much detail, but they had. She told him that she was ok with it, that she was ready and, strangely enough, willing. This is for the mission. Stop acting like it means anything more than that, you git.

Spike was pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed like a caged animal. He needed a smoke more than anything, but she’d warned him--if he smelled like tobacco, she wasn’t going anywhere near him. Fuck! He needed to calm down, take a few deep breaths. He sat on the couch and stared at the bathroom door.

Slayers had been his fascination since the day that Angelus had mentioned them. He’d never heard of them before that, of course. But from that day on, he’d made it his business to hunt them down and kill them. He’d found many of them, and had fought them. Only two had died at his hands, though. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the Chinese girl’s face--if he tried hard enough it came to mind. He really wished he knew what she’d told him before he’d snapped her neck. For all he knew, it may have been anything from ‘Say goodbye to my family for me’ to ‘Try the hot & sour soup at Lo Bu’s--it’s really good’. Most likely the former.

Then there had been that black girl in New York. Now she’d fought like a Slayer. She had attitude, she had fought tooth and nail, and she had died. Did he feel bad? Did he have regrets? No. It had been an equal battle. It could have just as easily been her who walked off that subway car, still wearing that black leather coat. His remains would have been swept up with the crumpled passes and cigarette butts.

And now, almost twenty-five years later, he found himself sitting on a couch in a hotel in London, waiting to bite the current Slayer in order to save the world. He broke out in a grin and licked his lips: he wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

Buffy stared at her reflection. God, I look like crap. Why can’t my hair stay up? She didn’t really want to stop and wonder why she was primping just minutes before going against all she’d ever learned as a Slayer. Why was she letting him bite her? Oh, yeah--another possible apocalypse. Sounds like a good enough excuse. However, she knew that if at that very moment, she had to explain it to Giles, it would come out all wrong, and it would sound like the stupidest excuse in the world.

Well, time to face the music, bite the bullet and all that crap. She pulled her hair into a ponytail--the only way her hair seemed to want to stay, and walked out the door.

She saw that Spike had changed into his flannel pants. He’d been perched on the couch when she walked out, but he stood up when he saw her. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought ahead of what was to come--she remembered her body’s reaction to Angel’s bite, and she didn’t know if tonight would lead to a repeat experience. Would Spike laugh at her if it did? No, she had this crazy feeling that he would be too busy enjoying his part in it to stop and mock her.

In his eyes, she would never be more beautiful. Washed clean of any makeup, hair up in a ponytail, and dressed in some silly cotton pajamas--‘Yummy Sushi’? What the heck was that?--she smelled of vanilla and everything that was Buffy Summers. He could see the apprehension in her eyes, as she found the nerve to break the silence.

“So--how are we going to do this?” It was easier to leave the finer details up to him. After all, he was more experienced in this sort of thing. She blushed at the way he stared at her, emotions no longer hidden. He wanted this, he wanted her and she felt something in her gut warm at the thought of such an intimate moment with him. They were hiding behind “The Mission”, but she knew that this was going to mean much, much more to both of them. She walked to him and let him take her hand.

How ‘bout I throw you on the bed and shag you into oblivion?--no, that wouldn’t do. You deserve more than that. “It’s really up to you, pet--however you feel more comfortable. We could do it standing up, which I don’t really recommend with the blood loss an’ all. We could lie down on the bed, but I don’t know how you’d feel about that... Or I could sit down here on the couch and you could sit on my lap.” He really hadn’t given it any prior thought. There was probably a more honourable way of going through with it, but he preferred the close physical contact. After her displays of affection out by the Tower, he was certain that she wouldn’t shy away from a little touching.

Buffy reflected on the options he was presenting her with. She didn’t even pause to consider the standing option. He was right--the last thing she needed was to humiliate herself by fainting and bumping her head on the coffee table. Lying down? Way too close to sex--actually could lead to sex if the usual sparks happened between them. They’d hated each other until what, a few days ago? And now, they couldn’t seem to hold hands without some serious sparkage. What was the third option, again? Oh yeah, sitting on his lap on the couch.

She knew she was doomed when the lesser evil was straddling him. “Ok, Monty. Looks like it’s gonna be door number three.”

He nodded in assent and sat down in the middle of the couch. Still holding his hand, she stood before him and climbed up onto his lap, one knee placed on either side of him. He couldn’t help but hold his breath as the heat from her body transferred to his own. Every point of contact between them, from her hands on his shoulders to the apex of her thighs against his lap, burned him. His voice was rough from his need for her. “Ready, luv?”

She tried to remember the calming methods that Giles had taught her. Breathe in... Breathe out... Calm air in... Stressed air out... It wasn’t working, however. Underneath her, she felt the vampire’s tension at their proximity. Buffy closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to slow the beating of her heart. She leaned in closer and placed her lips by his ear. A whisper was all that was required. “Yes.”

Spike cupped his hand to her neck, pulling it to his mouth. Although she outwardly seemed calm, the demon felt her pulse quicken and her muscles tense. He couldn’t bring himself to bite her like this--he wanted her to crave the bite, not fear it. Bringing his lips to her neck, he placed an open-mouthed kiss over her artery.

Slow, wet kisses trailing down her neck. A strong hand splayed against her hip, brushing lazy circles under her top. That wasn’t exactly what the young woman had been bracing for. What was he doing? He finally had his chance--how long had he been jonesing to bite her, and now that he had his chance he seemed to be... seducing her? Not that she was complaining--nope, not at all. This was much better than the sit and bite she’d imagined. The things he was doing with that tongue of his--slowly tracing a line up her throat, across her jaw...

She couldn’t help but let a groan escape when she felt his teeth on her earlobe. It had been so long since she’d... “Oh God, Spike.” She felt him pull her even closer to him, until there was no space between them.

When she slid down on his lap, stopping only when chest met chest and pelvis hit pelvis, Spike had to stop. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, panting. Could she feel his need for her? Of course she can, you git! She’s sitting right on top of it. And she’s so bloody hot... He pulled back and stared into her eyes.

He wanted her so bad, and she could feel his need--the hard reminder was wedged right under her. When he pulled back and simply looked at her, she realized that he obviously meant for this to be about her. Why else didn’t he have her pinned on the couch, teeth in her neck?

But she wasn’t one to have all the fun--she could make this about him, too.

A wicked grin on her lips, she began to grind her pelvis down into his erection. The fire in his eyes told her that he needed her as badly as she needed him. When he tilted his head back, moaning, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his throat. Through her ministrations, she heard him mutter ‘Fuck’ under his breath; in response, she lightly bit his neck.

Spike had lost the moment where this had gone from “Biting for the Mission” to a full-fledged snogging session. Maybe the Powers That Be were paying him back for not having killed that portly salesman--why else would he be sitting here, with the Slayer nibbling on his neck, rocking her pelvis against his and... trying to pull his shirt off? Every joke he’d ever said about her being frigid died right there and then. He lifted his arms, helping her remove his T-shirt.

Figuring that she’d had the upper hand long enough, he brought his hands up to her side, sliding them under her top. He cocked an eyebrow, silently asking her permission.

Okay, Buffy. This is the moment. There’s no going back at this point--do you say ‘yes’, or do you say ‘no’? She had no doubts that if she shook her head, the issue would be dead. He would move on to something else and not pressure her about it. On the other hand, she was sure that if she said ‘yes’, her life would branch into a totally different direction, which may not be so bad after all. She nodded, giving him her assent.

Spike lifted the garment slowly, wanting to memorize every inch of her taut stomach, her tender breasts. He’d never been intimate with a human before--he didn’t know if he’d ever get over the heat that it produced. He found his own skin tingling as her warmth transferred to his body. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned in and took one of her nipples in his cool mouth and cupped the other in his hand.

Buffy damned Angel and that poophead Parker. Why hadn’t they shown her that sex could be so intense? Here she was, with Spike, enjoying the best sexual experience of her life--and they still had their pants on! She realized that he had begun to thrust his own pelvis up towards her rocking motions. When had that started? Oh, great--I’m so busy over-analyzing everything that I’m missing out on stuff. Bad Buffy--no more thinking!

At that moment, where she bid herself to stop thinking, Buffy felt the beginnings of her climax. It was still far enough, but there was the twisting in her gut, the heat pooling between her legs, the need for more contact. She pulled the blonde vamp from his ministrations, smashed her lips to his, rocking against him with an increased fervour. Their tongues duelled and he began to pant in between kisses. Why does he do that? No! No thinking--concentrate on... ungh...

Spike pressed his hands against her hips, trying to slow her down. If she keeps this up, I won’t last... He pulled his lips away from hers and saw his raw need reflected in her hazel depths. The scent of her arousal surrounded him. He knew that he wouldn’t last much longer--not like this, especially not if she let him...

There it was. Her breath hitched, her body froze and she whispered “Now”.

Lost in his own fight against release, Spike’s muddled reasoning didn’t quite grasp what she meant. “Huh?”

The young woman leaned her head back and pulled his face to her neck. “Oh my God, Spike. Now!” When she felt him hesitate, she added “Please.”

Her release hit her as she watched his features change-she knew that the demon was finally free. When his teeth sank into her neck, she felt a rush of heat spread throughout her body. She felt like she was on fire as he drank deeply, pulling her life force past his soft lips. She didn’t understand why the sensation was so sensual to her. Logically, he was performing an act that was meant to kill her; but it was more than that to her-she felt as if they now were sharing an intimate bond.

As her climax ebbed, body still shaking from the aftershocks, she realized that she had let out a long, drawn-out moan. Funny, she’d never imagined herself as being very vocal during sex. It had always seemed over-dramatic, like that horribly funny porno she’d watched once, late at night. However, she had the feeling that the release of that wail, at that particular moment, had added to the sensations that had ripped through her small frame.

The grip Spike had on her hips tightened almost to the point of being painful-gonna have some serious bruises there tomorrow, and she felt rather than heard him growl. The feral sound he made was so primal that it traveled straight to her centre. She held him tighter as she felt his body begin to twitch.

He didn’t belong there. No creature of the night, who had killed so many people without mercy, deserved a place in Heaven. Because that’s where he was-he had no doubt. Her golden hair, tanned limbs, the heat that was sure to burn him, the life that he was presently draining from her soft neck. The power contained within her blood was nothing like he’d ever tasted. As it traveled in his mouth, down his throat and through his veins he felt invincible; heck, he’d even try to walk out into the sun-he almost knew that with the force of the Slayer running within his body, he could take on that pillock of a sun and come out of it alive… er, undead.

Colours began to dance at the back of his eyelids as he heard her wail. He tried to hold back, make it last forever-or at least until Buffy had finished her own release. His body hummed with the pent-up energy of his building climax, and he knew that he couldn’t hold on for long. When he felt her pulse slow a little, and that instead of pushing him away, as he expected, she held him closer, he gave in.

His body felt as if it was being reanimated. He’d seen all those old movies, where the evil scientists tried to bring the dead to life-usually with a bolt of lightning or some rot. Well, that’s what it was like at that moment-it was as if he had a good dose of electricity running through his limbs. He wished more than anything that he was buried in that heat of hers, instead of still being half-clothed. But he would take whatever he could get. And it didn’t get much better than this, he thought as his muscles twitched their post-coital staccato. He pulled his teeth from her neck, lapped at the wounds until the bleeding slowed, and lay his forehead down on her shoulder.

He was panting. Now why did she find that so sexy? And why the hell was she still turned on, after having the best close-to-sex of her life? She felt him lick her neck again, guessing that he was probably not going to waste whatever blood was still trickling though. She felt a little faint-no big surprise, with all the blood he had taken. She pulled back a little and found that he was still in demon guise.

Strangely enough, she didn’t feel compelled to pull away, hide her eyes from the demon and the reality of what she’d shared with it. With him. His amber gaze was as naked and tender as his blue eyes had been--and they were just as expressive. Of course, she thought to herself, they’re both Spike--man and demon. It’s not like there was a switch inside of him--man/good, demon/bad. The man could have done some pretty damnable things, and right now the demon was looking at her with tenderness. Boy, did the Council have it all wrong, or what?

Spike felt a little ill at ease with the way that Buffy was looking at him. Maybe it was the warmth in her eyes--he wasn’t used to that. Anger, yes. Hatred, yes. Compassion, no. Love? No, not even Dru--she’d always been in her own world, and he’d been part of that but he wasn’t sure if she’d ever reciprocated his love. As she gently drew her finger across his ridges, he realized that he was still in his game face. She didn’t pull back, she wasn’t disgusted. She seemed to accept it, and that meant more to him than she could ever imagine. Taking her hand in his, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips before pulling her to him in an embrace. It felt so right to have her in his arms. He could only hope that this would last longer than their mission.

Surrounded by his strong arms, Buffy felt safe. For the first time since she’d become the Slayer, all her worries temporarily disappeared, replaced only by the comforting rumbling of her lover’s purr.

***

They sat there, both panting, bodies still closely connected. When he felt her shiver, Spike pulled a throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around the young woman. He didn’t know what to expect after what they’d shared. People did things in the heat of the moment--things they regretted. Was this how she’d see this? When she sighed and snuggled against his chest, he knew that he was worrying himself over nothing.

Although she’d now been with two vampires (what kind of Slayer did that make her?), Buffy still found it odd to lean her head against a chest that contained no heartbeat. It didn’t mean anything, strangely enough, as the only human she’d ever been intimate with proved to be a jerk. Smiling to herself, she broke the silence. “I guess ‘wow’ would be an understatement, wouldn’t it?”

Spike let out a chuckle. “I reckon’ so. I’m thinking more along the lines of ‘bloody fucking amazing’.”

The Slayer laughed out loud. However, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder just how ’bloody fucking amazing’ it would be if they weren’t wearing any clothes. She leaned closer into him, laying her head on his shoulder. Her eyes grew wide as she felt something grow... again. Her head snapped up and she pressed her pelvis down. “Are you... already...”

With a sexy smile, the vampire nodded. “Vampire stamina, luv. Don’t worry, though--I’m feeling kind of gross right now--I’m gonna go clean up a bit. Change my pants, if you catch my meaning.”

Buffy slid off him, noticed the distinct wet spot at his crotch and squeaked an embarrassed “okay”.

When Spike was in the bathroom, the young woman ran to a mirror. Tilting her head to the side, she pressed her fingers to the new bite. It had closed off and was no longer bleeding--Spike had seen to that, as not a drop of blood had been wasted. She rolled her eyes as she noticed that he’d placed his own bite over that of his Sire’s. Great, she thought to herself, now I’m part of their pissing war.

She turned the lights off around the small apartment and crawled into bed. Not like Mr. Vampire needs lights to get to bed. Lying down, she pulled the covers up to her neck; would he expect anything else? Shaking her head, she reminded herself that she wasn’t supposed to be thinking--just bask in nice warm after-sex feelings. Except that it wasn’t really sex... Argh! Where was Mr. Gordo when she needed him...

***

He had never, ever, come in his pants. Not his first time, as a fledgling, did he lose control like that. Not even when he and Dru had shagged in the Chinese Slayer’s blood. In all honesty, though, Spike was proud that he lasted as long as he did, with the Slayer’s hot, tight body writhing on top of him... Stop it or you’ll never get out of the bloody bathroom! He looked at the crumpled flannel pants that were thrown into a heap by the wall. If things kept up, he’d run out of clean clothes--fast. Gotta find a launderette somewhere.

He put the toilet lid down and sat on it. Cupping his chin in his hands, he stared ahead. Why was he acting like such a poof? The worst thing was that not even the demon felt bad--hey, it had gotten its blood, why should it complain? Then it hit him... Nonono--it couldn’t be. He was horny, he was obsessed with Slayers, it was the call of her blood... anything but love! Master vampires did not fall in love with Slayers in less than a week; hell, master vampires did not fall in love with Slayers, period.

But master vampires didn’t drool at the smell of homemade soup or leave victims alive or help avert any apocalypses, either. Shit.

When he walked out of the bathroom, Spike saw that Buffy had turned off all the lights. He knew she was still awake, though, as her breathing was still too quick. That and she wasn’t snoring... He made his way to the bed and slipped in under the covers. Yeah, he could fall asleep anywhere--crypt, dirt floor--but nothing beat a nice soft bed.

He slid behind the Slayer and spooned her. “You alright with this, pet?”

There was a pause, as the young woman gave it some thought. “Yeah, I am. It’s weird, you know, ‘cause I know this shouldn’t be. I mean, it’s not exactly normal for either of us, but I’m beginning to realize that logic doesn’t really have a place in sex and love, and everything in between.”

The blonde vamp let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Why, after everything that had conspired, did he still doubt his Slayer? “Mmm... I remember some smart bloke saying something to the effect that ‘Love isn’t brains’ or some rot like that. It’s about time that you figured that out for yourself.” All he got as an answer was an elbow in the ribs.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, kissed the back of her neck and they both fell into a peaceful sleep.

The bell over the door jingled as the Scoobies made their way into the Magic Box, weary from another night of patrolling. Exhausted, they all dropped in the chairs surrounding their favourite research table.

“Ok, was there a memo that we missed? You know, one that said ‘Slayer out of the country, free-for-all on the Hellmouth, BYOB?” Xander grimaced at the pain in his left shoulder, the result of being thrown more than once against a mausoleum. His better judgement told him that he shouldn’t be involved in these patrols--he didn’t have the training Giles had, Willow’s magical resources, or Anya’s ability to confuse demons with her distinctive verbal barrage. He was just some guy. But no, he went along anyway and always came out of it with more bruises than anyone else. That‘s if he came out of it conscious. “And anyway, how the heck does she go out and do that every night?”

Anya moved behind him and began to massage her boyfriend’s shoulder. An achy Xander meant little or no sex. And no sex meant no orgasms. Very logical, very calculated and very scary. Yep--she had to make sure he was in top physical shape. “Well, she’s the Slayer, Xander. She has all these powers that were given her...”

Giles interrupted what could have been a very long and disorienting discourse. “I believe that was a rhetorical question, Anya.” He went back to rubbing his sore leg. Since when did vampires kick people in the shin, anyway? I’m getting too old for this.

“I wonder how Buffy’s doing, anyway?” Willow, the only one who seemed to be unscathed, voiced the question they were all asking themselves (except for Anya, who was still gauging her chances at having many orgasms). Her eyes got a twinkle of mischief in them as a thought occurred to her. “Ooh! Maybe she’s met some hunky English guy. Like if she’s visiting Westminster Abbey and can’t find something, so she has to ask someone and--hey--why not ask the cute guy that’s right beside her? Then he asks her to dinner... That would be so romantic. Well, until the part where she has to leave, and they share a kiss at the airport and then she goes back home and feels sad because she misses him...” The redhead had to stop before she passed out from lack of oxygen.

Nimble fingers still working the knots out of Xander’s shoulder, Anya felt she had the answer to Willow’s babbling. “She already has a hunky English guy--she has Spike.” When she was met with three incredulous stares, she frowned. “Oh, please. He’s got that whole ’bad boy’ thing, with the bleached hair and the leather coat, and he has all those tight, rippling muscles...” Ok, sex could no longer wait. “Come on, Xander. We have to go to your basement. Now.” She grabbed him by his injured shoulder, eliciting a yelp from the young man.

Xander did not budge from his seat. He was still trying to follow the link from ’wonder how Buffy’s doing’ to ’Spike is a sex god’ to ‘Xander let‘s go home‘. “Ok, am I the only one who’s thinking “eww” right now? I don’t even want to know how you associate the idea of Spike with our having sex!”

The ex-vengeance demon, tired of being looked at like she’d said Hitler was a hero, became defensive. “Well I don’t see what’s so strange about that. Spike happens to be the embodiment of the ideal male physique. He also has that accent, which is also very sexy. I don’t find it very strange at all that thinking of him leads me to think of orgasms.” She grabbed her flummoxed boyfriend’s hand and hauled him towards the door. “Come, Xander. We’re wasting time.”

Beet red, the brunette smiled nervously. “Uh, same bat time, same bat channel tomorrow night, kids?”

Relieved at finally seeing an end to hearing Anya discuss sex and Spike, Giles nodded. “Yes, of course. Good night, Xander.” When the door finally closed, he removed his glasses and began wiping at one of the lenses. Shaking his head, he exhaled. “Sometimes I wonder about her...”

“Well, she does have a point...” Willow’s eyes grew and her mouth clamped shut. What had she just said? And to Giles, of all people?! She needed to make a save--quick. “So... have you heard anything else from Buffy?” There. That was on nice, safe, conversation territory. The last thing she needed was for the Watcher to know that albeit deathly afraid of the vampire, she had noticed his finer attributes.

Glad that the young woman had steered the discussion away from the annoying vampire--the pillock manages to get under my skin even when he’s clear across the ocean--Giles answered. “No, not since the first night. I suspect she’ll contact us if anything of importance occurs. Long distance phone calls are too expensive to make just to tell us nothing’s happened.”

The Wicca couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Oh...”

Her downcast eyes and pout spelled it out to the Watcher. Of course she wanted to contact her best friend. Bonding over telephone calls is what young women did, wasn’t it? Smiling knowingly, he stood up and pulled his wallet out of his pants pocket. “She did give me the number to her hotel room, though, if anyone wanted to reach her...” He waved a piece of paper under her nose.

Willow squealed and grabbed the number. “Oh, Giles! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She jumped up and threw her arms around him, nearly dragging him down.

“Ow! Please watch the leg. I do believe that Tar’groth demon gave me a charlie horse.” Giles winced, and sat back down.

The witch couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, he was a pretty dirty fighter, wasn’t he? I think he even tried some of the Three Stooges’ moves on Xander. Bad move, though--he knows them all.”

“Well, yes. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

There was a quiet pause before Willow grabbed her bag of magic supplies. “Thanks, Giles. This means a lot to me.”

Slightly abashed, the Watcher smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear from you, Willow. Just make sure you don’t call her tonight--there’s a 6 hour difference to London.” He got up off his chair, and groaned. “I suppose we should be off, then. I’ll give you a lift home.”

***

The pale yellow glow of diffused sunlight peeked between the heavy curtains. As she slowly came to, Buffy felt well rested. No tossing and turning, no Slayer dreams; just a deep, peaceful rest. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, trying to focus on the alarm clock that had been moved to her side of the bed. 10:30am. Wow. Think that‘s the longest I‘ve ever slept. She tried to move, but found herself pinned down.

What the? Buffy looked down, and saw an arm. A very pale, muscular arm. And it was wrapped around her waist, holding her gently but firmly. Spike. Spike, the evil undead who had given her the best almost-sex of her life, who hadn’t turned all Angelus afterwards, and who was now spooned against her back. She smiled as her thoughts ventured to the night before and what had happened between them. Her whole world was about to be turned over, and she was looking forward to it.

The young woman managed to turn around under the vampire’s grip. Finally facing him, she was again amazed at how peaceful he looked when he was sleeping. His hair was ruffled from sleep, his lashes rested against his cheeks, and his soft lips were slightly parted as if he were breathing. How could someone who was so irritating when awake seem so angelic in sleep? Angelic and Spike. Not two words she would have ever imagined using in the same sentence, without the presence of ‘not’.

She lifted the blanket a little, careful not to wake him up. Looking under the sheets, she let her glance slide down the vampire’s well-defined chest, onto his abs, and then to... Damn! He owns another pair of those flannel pants... Pouting, she dropped the cover back onto them. Guess that’ll have to wait ’till another day.

Deciding that she’d lolled in bed long enough, she wrested herself from the sleeping vampire’s grip. As she slid out from under his arm, Spike rolled over onto his other side, away from her. She took a quick moment to memorize the play of the muscles in his back as he fidgeted to find a comfortable position. She closed the bed’s drapes before being tempted back into bed.

***

His head was ringing, but he didn’t remember drinking the night before. Squeezing his eyes shut, Spike turned over and tried to ignore it.

It didn’t stop, though--the ringing kept... well, it just kept ringing. Cursing, the vampire sat up and tried to shake the cobwebs from his sleep-addled brain. Concentrating, he finally figured out that it must be the phone. But who would be calling them? He pulled the curtain aside, and, reaching for the phone, fell off the bed. “Bugger!”

Grabbing the phone that Buffy had left on his night table, he pressed the ’on’ button and issued a curt “What?!”

There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end. “Spike?” A woman’s voice, that he could almost recognize.

“Who’s this?” Bloody gits, calling at any hour of the day.

“It’s... it’s Willow.”

Huh? He narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

A sigh. “Willow, you know--bottle in the face...” That should jog his memory.

Spike straightened up and a smile quickly came to his lips. “Red! Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

“Well, I sorta did, but you were kinda sleepy and not really with the understanding.” She paused. What did one say to a half-awake vampire that you didn’t really know well? “So... how’s everything? Are you having a good time back home?”

The blonde vamp was genuinely happy to hear from the redheaded witch. She was the only one of Buffy’s friends he could actually stand. She was so much fun to tease and she didn’t treat him like a second class citizen. “Everything’s peachy, ducks. Met up with some old friends, visited an old haunt or two, had me some real fish and chips. (Had a wicked snogging session with the Slayer.) All in all, it’s been a couple of good days.”

Why was he so talkative? Willow felt like saying ‘who are you and what have you done with Spike?’. He almost sounded happy to hear from her. Weird. “Well, that’s nice. I’m happy you’re having a good time.”

After a long pause, Spike’s good humour at hearing a familiar voice ebbed. He frowned, got a little impatient and shifted. He was missing some good sleep for this. “Look, you want to speak to the Slayer?”

“Yeah, actually, that’s why I was calling. She’s not in bed, is she?” She wasn’t sure if she’d calculated the whole time difference thing right and she didn’t want to have to speak to a sleepy Buffy. It could be much, much worse than a sleepy Spike.

Looking back at the bed, which still called to him, Spike sneered. “Not unless I squished her rollin’ out of bed to get the bloody phone...” Still groggy, he hadn’t realized how much he’d revealed to the witch. “I think I hear her in the loo. Hold on a sec.”

The door to the bathroom was ajar, which to the vampire meant ‘hey, open me!’. He did so, and both Slayer and vampire simultaneously screamed. Spike dropped the phone onto the carpet, and neither heard the faint “Hello? What’s wrong?!” coming from the receiver.

Pulse racing, Buffy cringed. Great. Figures he’d walk in right now... She was embarrassed beyond words... almost. “Spike! Don’t you know how to knock? What were you doing, spying on me?”

The vampire clutched his chest, breathing hard. “Bloody fuck... let a bloke gather his wits, will ‘ya? And what’s with that stuff on your face?” He reached out a tentative finger but pulled away before touching... whatever it was.

Fuming, the Slayer put her hands on her hips. “This ‘stuff’ is clay. It clears my pores. Some of us risk the chance of zits, Mr. Undead, so we have to take care of our skin.” She looked down at the phone on the ground and raised her brows. “Were you on the phone?”

“Shit!” Spike had forgotten about Willow. “Red--you still there?”

The redhead was relieved to hear that at least one of the two was still alive. She’d heard some screaming, a bang as the phone hit the floor, and then some more yelling. She hoped that they weren’t being attacked or anything. “Spike? What’s going on--are you guys ok?”

Still trying to catch his unnecessary breath, Spike took another look at Buffy before answering. “Yeah. Just got a fright, is all. Slayer’s doing her best impression of a Horgoth demon.”

Horgoth demon... “Oh, the blue clay?” That was actually really funny. Never thought of that...

Spike swallowed a snicker at the witch’s quick answer. He guessed he wasn’t the only one who’d made that connection before. “Yeah, that’s the stuff. Talk to you later, pet. Ta.”

“Bye Spike.“ Ok, so this Spike seemed happy to hear from her, he’d sounded like a 10 year old when he was talking about what he’d done, and now he was being all nice, calling her pet and ducks. Willow’s brow furrowed. She’d get to the bottom of it. Buffy Summers always caved in against Inspector Rosenburg...

***

Buffy grabbed the phone from Spike before giving him a final glare. She wasn’t really that angry at him--she just felt compelled to go through the motions. Fighting with the peroxide wonder was too much fun to stop. She brought her concentration back to the phone. “Will--is everything ok? Are you alright?” She realized she was a little worried--they wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency, would they?

Sensing her friend’s worry, the witch used a calming tone. “Buffy, everyone’s just fine. I missed you, that’s all. Giles gave me your phone number so I could call you.”

The Slayer felt the tension ease off. “Ok, I guess I can breathe now. So, how are the patrols going? No one got seriously hurt, did they? I mean, apart from Xander.”

The two girls giggled at their friend’s usual luck with patrolling.

“Well, I think that every demon within a 50 mile radius knows you’re out of the country, so it’s been pretty hectic. But we’re holding our own. How about you? You’re the one in London. How is it there? Have you made any progress finding your baddie?” She smiled and added, in a teasing voice “Meet any cute guys?”

The young blonde bit her lip at the last question. She hadn’t actually met her cute guy here, but they had certainly joined together while in London. Joined together--how appropriate. “London is great, Wills. You’d love it, with all the old buildings and the neat history. Spike took me to the Tower of London yesterday and told me about all the murder and torture and backstabbing. But it’s so beautiful, we’ll have to come back some day.” Yeah, like I’ll ever get the chance. “As for our mission, it’s not as much a hot trail as a grape freezie kind of trail. Spike and I are going to some creepy demon nightclub tonight--we’re hoping to get a lead. Seems that the guy’s henchdemons hang out there.”

“Well, I hope you find some good information. It’s best if you find that baby sooner rather than later.” Something nagged at Willow, some previous comment. Yes! Spike’s slip-up about the bed! She decided it was time for Inspector Rosenburg to make an appearance. “So, how’s the whole ’staying with Spike’ thing coming?”

Buffy felt the blush creep up her neck. “Coming?” Yeah, we were coming, all right. “Uh, it’s ok. We haven’t killed each other yet, so that’s always good, right?” Please, don’t ask any more questions.

The squeak in her friend’s voice let the young witch know that her best friend was hiding something. “Mmm hmmm. Spike said something about you two sharing a bed?” If that didn’t work, nothing would.

“Oh, of course he would! Figures he’d be gloating--betcha he also told you about us...” Oh, crap. Inspector Rosenburg 1, Buffy 0. “Oh, God.”

Ha! I knew it! Willow did an internal Snoopy dance, but kept her voice sober. “Buffy, is there something going on between you and Spike? Because, you know, best friend here...” Guilt her into talking--that always worked.

Great--first the Spanish Inquisition, and now the guilt. Where had meek Willow gone? Buffy was quiet for a moment--should she tell all, or keep it a secret? Ah, hell. She’d never kept secrets from Willow. No use in starting a bad habit now. She coughed, clearing her voice. “Will--if I tell you something, promise not to tell Giles or anyone else?”

“Of course! I can do that--I’ll be secret girl. That’s in the ‘best friend’ job description, you know. Anyway, I’m sure you want to let some of it off your chest.” She sat back on her bed, clutching a teddy bear, and waited for the story to begin.

The Slayer took a deep breath. “Oh, Will. I don’t even know where to begin. I mean, Spike’s been completely different on this trip--right from the start. He even bought me a stuffed animal at the airport!”

Willow couldn’t help but interject. “Oh, how sweet!”

“Yeah, I know--I mean, this is the guy who’d been trying to kill me--kill us--for two years and now it’s, like” she faked a horrible English accent “’Did you want to get something to eat?’ and he actually said that we had to work at getting along, since we were on the same mission. I mean, when did he get all mature?”

The redhead was impressed. Who’d have thought that if you stuck the childish vampire into a situation, he’d be the one to come out with smart ideas? “Well, it sounds like good advice to me. I guess it’s better than having him try to kill you, or ditch you.”

Buffy’s voice rose an octave. “That’s what I mean!” She lowered it again, afraid that Spike might hear what she was about to say. “It’s like being with a Spike look alike. He’s been such a gentleman. They have us booked as honeymooners at the hotel--don‘t even start on that, by the way--and he insisted on carrying me over the threshold, and then he made me some chocolate covered strawberries--very yummy, by the way. But it’s just so... unexpected. I figured we’d be at each other’s throats, but now I’m finding that we’re getting along, and I don’t know how I feel about it.” She sniffled. “Pathetic much?”

Willow didn’t know what to say. This was Spike they were talking about. For all she knew, this whole seduction could have been part of a plan of his. However, she didn’t think so--maybe for some crazy cosmic reason, Buffy and Spike were meant to be together. “No, Buffy. Not pathetic. You’re right to be confused. Your reality just got twisted, and you’re trying to figure things out. It’s normal. Has... has he tried to kiss you yet?”

The young blonde let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, Willow. You don’t know the half of it. We practically had sex last night. The only thing between us was our pants.” The following confession was made in a whisper. “And I let him bite me.”

“Oh Goddess!” Ok, this was getting curiouser and curiouser. “Did it hurt?”

“No, actually it was pretty good.” The Slayer banged the back of her head against the wall. “Hell, who am I kidding? It was amazing. The only way I can get into that bar tonight is if Spike pretends to ‘own’ me--humans aren’t allowed in on their own. He had to bite me so we could get in. It seemed like a good plan, until we got to the biting part. It started out with kissing, then it moved on to some touching, then it moved on to some grinding. It, uh, it got really serious.”

“Did he make you do anything you didn’t want to?” She had to remain logical and keep her friend on track. “Buffy, please think of it. Do you regret anything?”

There was a pause, and the Slayer found herself seriously considering the redhead’s questions. “No, I don’t regret any of it, and I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to. He’s really good that way. Gentle, takes it slow--he made sure I was ok with everything. He was really considerate.”

“Ok, I must really be lacking in the romance department, because I’m soo jealous right now, Buffy.” The Wicca cleared her thoat, not really believing she was going to ask her next question. This was Spike, after all. “So... is he good?”

“Willow! What happened to the shy girl who blushed every time someone mentioned sex?” Buffy couldn’t believe her best friend. She was proud.

“She grew up, Buffy. And got a sex drive, which is doing absolutely nothing these days. So ‘fess up, so I know that at least one of us is having a grand old time.” There. Not so hard, was it? Oh, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.

“Ok, Wills--we‘re going to delve into the TMI land that only best friends dare travel.” She took a deep breath. “Imagine someone spending 120 years perfecting sex. That‘s what he‘s like. Just one kiss and you‘re reduced to a puddle of water. All the energy he has, all the passion, he puts it into kissing. His lips are soft, and his tongue‘s like velvet. It‘s like being kissed by silk, Will. And while he’s kissing you, his hands are drawing little circles on your back, not groping you like some big college stud. He just uses the tips of his fingers, tracing down your spine, and it feels like electricity--you know, like when you stick your tongue on one of those weird batteries, and your tongue gets all tingly? It’s just like that, but everywhere he touches you.” Pausing to catch her breath, she realized that there was absolutely no sound coming from the other end of the phone. Just my luck--watch the line be disconnected and I’ve just been sitting here talking to myself. “Willow? Are you still there?”

The young witch opened her eyes and inhaled deeply. She felt faint, but convinced herself it was because she hadn’t slept much the night before--not because of what Buffy was saying. Her voice squeaked. “Yes! I mean yeah, I’m still listening.”

The Slayer was curious. Her best friend was acting a little weird. But, then, Willow was always a little odd, so she brushed it off. “Ok, just thought I’d lost you for a sec. Didn’t want to be sitting here talking to myself, or even worse--to some operator or something.” She fidgeted--the bathroom floor wasn’t the most comfortable of seating areas. “Look, Will. I need you to tell me if I’m insane. I mean, I’m talking to you about macking with the undead--again. And this one doesn’t even have a soul! Maybe it‘s a Slayer thing--I‘m on a course for self-destruction, or something.”

“Buffy, I don’t think it’s a Slayer thing. Well, not entirely. I think it’s a Buffy thing.” The redhead was choosing her words carefully--sometimes it was difficult broaching certain topics over the phone, as you couldn’t rely on your facial expressions to get your point across. “You’re the Slayer, Buffy. That’s something that’s unique--unique in the way that you’re special, but also unique in the way that there’s only one of you. Well, except for Faith, but that’s beside the point, ‘cause she‘s pretty much out of commission right now. Anyway, you lead a lifestyle very different than anyone else’s. Where most girls your age are dreaming about boy bands, trying for the cheerleading squad or working part-time jobs at the local mall, you’ve got this whole other world thrown at you, where you have to deal with things that people can’t even come up with in their nightmares. You’ve got this enormous responsibility, with the weight of the world on your shoulders.” She sighed. “This is coming out all wrong. What I’m trying to say is that your life involves things that go bump in the night. Maybe it’s not normal that you fall for two vampires, but taken into the context of your lifestyle, it‘s not that surprising. Whether you’re aware of it or not, you’re probably looking for someone who understands and accepts what it is that you do, and who it is that you really are. Is any of this making any sense, or am I just babbling?”

Now she knew why she had opened up with Willow. Always the voice of reason, always the one with soothing words. Buffy thanked the powers that be that she had such a caring, intelligent person to turn to when she felt like she was at her wits‘ end. “Yeah, I think I do. What you’re saying is that because I’m the Slayer, I’m drawn to people who are close to what I do. Hence, Angel and Spike. But Angel had a soul, and Spike is evil, or was evil...”

“But Angel without his soul was much, much worse than Spike, wasn’t he? Spike is... well, he’s Spike. What you see is what you get. He is who he is because he chooses to be that way, not because it’s forced onto him. Buffy, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe Spike really is trying to be a better person, or vampire, because of you. Maybe he really does have feelings for you. Just don’t do anything rash--let things go slowly and don’t second guess yourself. If it feels right, go with it.”

Buffy felt a tear roll down her cheek. Sniffling, she smiled. “How did I get such a good best friend, Willow?”

The Wiccan smiled back, although it couldn’t be seen through the phone. “Oh, I don’t know. It might have to do with how good a friend you are too. That and how many times you saved me...”

The two girls shared a comfortable silence, each absorbing what had been said. Willow was confident that Buffy could work out this situation she was in, and come out of it stronger. Buffy took the redhead’s words to heart, and vowed silently to try and listen to her heart a little more. She knew that as a Slayer she didn’t have that long to live--what good would it be to push away a chance at happiness?

“Look, Wills, I have to let you go now. My butt cheeks are falling asleep from sitting on this cold floor. That and I have to pry this ‘mask of Horgoth’ off before it permanently sticks to my face.”

As they said their goodbyes, neither heard the click that closely preceded their hanging up.

***

Spike hung up the kitchen phone and sat on one of the stools. He cupped his hand over his chin and tried to absorb everything the two girls had discussed. He had expected the bit about their little snogging session--after all, that’s what girls talked about on the phone, wasn’t it?

But he’d never expected the Slayer to reveal that he’d bitten her, or that she’d enjoyed it--he assumed that she would have kept mum, keeping it as a dirty little secret. What had really surprised him, though, was the talk that revealed Buffy’s low self-esteem.

Spike rejoiced in being a vampire. He revelled in the violence, the blood, the darkness. He’d also assumed that Buffy enjoyed her role as the Slayer. She certainly hadn’t let on otherwise. But from what he’d sussed out in that conversation, Buffy was confused and constantly second-guessing herself. Not hard to imagine, since she belonged to two worlds at once: as the Slayer she existed in the dark of night, rubbing shoulders with baddies like him; as Buffy Summers she tried to function as a normal young woman, balancing school, friends, and a rotten romance record. He couldn’t imagine trying to be Spike by night and William by day.

He silently thanked Red for her sound advice--knew he liked her for a good reason--and vowed to make sure that whatever it was that was building between him and the Slayer didn’t end up in some sort of catastrophe. Maybe, he thought, he should also heed the witch’s advise and just go where fate pointed him to. It had worked so far, hadn’t it?

Buffy stood in front of the closet, staring at the clothing she’d been given by Zairah. She’d decided on the red leather pants and a black sparkly tank top. Looking through her earrings, she groaned. Great, my wardrobe screams ’vampire ho’ and I’m actually wasting time trying to accessorize. Uh, my life so sucks right now. Managing to avoid Spike, by an unusual stroke of good fortune, she scooted off to the bathroom to change and primp.

As she poured herself into the pants, the Slayer pondered her situation. What had she done, in her too-short lifetime, to deserve this? Maybe it was the time that she’d flushed her cousin Frances’ retainer down the toilet, or maybe when she’d dropped a couple of Alka-Seltzer tablets into the neighbor’s dog’s dish, or then again it could have been that time she put crazy glue on the rim of the birdbath... Ok, so maybe she deserved it. It didn’t mean she was going to enjoy it, though.

Her pants finally done up, she managed to figure out the string of a tank top that she’d chosen. Turning around to look at herself, she noticed a horizontal white strap peeking out from under the top’s back. She shrugged, shimmied out of the undergarment, and tossed it onto the growing pile of dirty laundry. Fine, so I won’t wear a bra, then. Might as well go with the full ’ho’ look.

She opened her makeup case and took out the new makeup she’d bought during her little excursion the previous day. For a little grocery store, they sure had a good makeup counter--yay Maybelline. She had found everything she needed for a good vamp-ho makeup look: deep red lipstick, pale foundation, dark eyeliner. She already had the black mascara--pretty much a standard in any woman’s makeup bag. Well, here goes, she thought to herself as she began to apply her foundation, let’s see what we can do with this makeup.

***

Spike was about to call out when he heard the bathroom door open. He’d been this close to barging in, but kept finding excuses not to. From everything to making sure his black nail polish was perfect (hey, a vamp might be evil, but he shouldn’t be sloppy), to checking his duster for new tears, to knowing that Buffy would be upset if he pressured her. He knew this whole set up was going to be tough on her. Not only because she’d have to act submissive towards him, but also because she’d never been anywhere so dreadful. Yeah, she was the Slayer, and she acted tough, but he didn’t know how even he’d react if they still had that live feeding station they’d installed last time he’d been there.

All coherent thought abandoned his mind, however, at the sight of the Slayer as she walked out from the bathroom. The little top she wore--without a bra, he noticed--was naughty, and her pants--were they painted on? Her makeup was excessive compared to what she usually wore, but she’d blend in at the Nex. He couldn’t help the pull his body felt towards hers. Hopefully, those pants were too tight for her to kick him.

Buffy didn’t know what to make of the look Spike was giving her. Or rather, she didn’t know what to make of her body’s reaction to it--the look of pure, unadulterated lust. Her heart jumped to a staccato beat, her body heated up and her nerves began to tingle as he approached her. She used to cringe at that tingling, the one she’d always felt when he was near--Spike being nearby had never been a good thing. Until now. She opened her arms à la Vanna White and smiled seductively. “So, whaddaya think? Will I get into the Nex ok?”

Think? Who the hell can bloody think around someone so breathtaking? “Bloody hell, pet--it‘s all I can do to stop myself from taking you right here, right now.” Pulling her to him, he lowered his lips towards hers. When he felt her finger on his lips, he looked up, confused.

“Sorry, big bad--you’re going to be wearing as much lipstick as I am if you kiss me. Won’t be too scary going around with ruby red lips, will you?” Buffy had to laugh as she watched his mind process that thought. Her laugh stopped short when she saw a light go off in his mind. His eyes grew almost black as he lowered himself to his knees. Now what was he... Oh!

She was right--he couldn’t kiss her. Why hadn’t he taken advantage of that before she’d entered the loo? Should’ve ravaged her then. He could bite her, but based on last night that would probably mean a change of clothing for one, if not both, of them. There was definitely no time for a wardrobe change. Oh, well--a vamp had to be creative, didn’t he?

He nuzzled his head up under the scrap of a top she wore, edging his way up to her breasts. Latching onto one of her erect nipples, he suckled it, lightly nibbling. When he heard her sharp intake of breath, and felt her hands press his head to her chest, he knew she wanted this as much as he did. Flattening his tongue against the curve of her breast, he began to draw a circle, slowly spiralling towards its tip. His right hand gently cupped her other breast, kneading it.

What was it about this particular vampire--hell, this particular man--that could turn her to mush in seconds? Buffy writhed under Spike’s ministrations, the feel of his cool tongue on her breasts driving her insane, that quiet purring noise going straight to her core. Her desire began to pool at the apex of her thighs, and she knew that if they weren’t on their way soon, they’d never leave the room. Which, if not for a particular mission, wouldn’t be all that bad.

But they had a baby to find, and a world to save.

Her voice broke through his concentration. He felt like he was immersed in cotton--weren’t a vampire’s senses supposed to sharpen during sex? His had dulled and it took everything he could muster to rip his attention from the Slayer’s pert breasts to her face. She was telling him something--well, her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear anything. Damn cotton.

“Spike? Come on, stand up.” He was looking at her with glazed eyes and she knew he wasn’t hearing a word she said. Good--I’m not the only one who’s being reduced to a vegetative state during these bouts of foreplay. She grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, and hoisted him up to a standing position. “We have to get going--you know, our mission? The Nex?”

She was right, and he knew it. No matter how much he wanted to say ‘fuck the mission’ and take her right there against the wall, he nodded. “Right. The mission.” He walked ahead of her to the door, but stopped. Acting on impulse, he pulled her into his arms, placing a searing kiss over his bite marks. Taking a step back, still holding her hands, he looked her straight in the eyes. “You do know that you’re special, don’t you, Buffy?”

It was more of a statement than a question, and she knew it. But the emotion behind his admission floored her. Had he been listening to her conversation this morning? No, she was pretty sure that he’d gone straight back to bed--he hadn’t seemed conscious enough to be that sneaky. How, then, had he known to say exactly what it was she needed to hear? Those words were all she needed to hear to know that everything they’d done--the talking, the friendship, the intimacy--meant as much to him as it had to her.

Knowing he didn’t really expect an answer, she pulled him back into an embrace.

“Thank you, Spike.”

***

“Well, here it is.”

Buffy looked ahead to where the blonde vampire was pointing. Turning around, she pointed at the empty lot. “This?! I dressed up like a skank so you could take me to some abandoned piece of dirt?” Punching him in the arm, she growled. “Spike, if this is part of some demented trick of yours, to get me out here, dressed like this, you’re toast--literally.”

She tried to only show the anger she felt--it would do her no good to let him know how upset she was at this. All this time, she’d begun to trust this vampire. He’d seemed to have a genuine interest in the mission, in saving the world--whether or not he’d freely admit it--but now it looked like it had all been one big joke. She felt betrayed--all the intimacy, the quiet moments, all for naught. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what kind of excuse the peroxide blonde would come up with.

Spike was confused. “Don’t tell me you can’t feel them, Slayer. Close your eyes and relax--you’ll know what I mean.”

“Relax?! I’m standing at the edge of some empty field dressed like a prostitute, accompanied by a Billy Idol wannabe...” Her voice went up an octave. “...and you’re telling me to relax? Why, I should just...” The vampire’s hand clamped down over her mouth, and although she was tempted to bite him and continue her rant, she let him speak.

“Just shut up for two seconds, will ya? You’re always jumpin’ to conclusions, always tryin’ to find the worst in people. Well here’s a little newsflash for you, pet.” Spike removed his hand from her mouth and put it on her shoulder. He brought his face down to hers and looked her steadily in the eye. “I will not abandon you, I will not leave you, I will not betray you. I’d like to think that after we’ve been through you have more faith in me than that.”

Faced with his admission, spoken straight from the heart, Buffy swallowed hard. He was right. After all the people who’d left her--her father, Angel, even Parker--she’d worked at building a wall around her. It was much easier to take if you played all these horrible scenarios in your head, expecting one of them to come true--that way, when something bad did happen, it was less of a shock.

She looked up to him and smiled. “You’re right. I... I do have faith in you, it’s just hard to let myself truly believe it sometimes.” She looked again towards the lot, and frowned. “I do feel something, like there are a ton of demons, but I can’t see anything.”

His spirits lighter after their brief heart-to-heart, Spike clucked his tongue. “That’s cause there’s a cloaking spell. The Nex is really there, but anyone who isn’t a demon just walks by, thinking it’s an old bit of property.” His face grew serious. “Now, you remember what I told you? Always stand a little behind me, but make sure I can see you at all times. Keep your eyes down--eye contact for a slave is an act of defiance. Don’t speak unless spoken to--and always call me master, don’t move unless I move, don’t sit down unless I tell you to... You get the gist?”

“Yeah, I get the gist.” The Slayer put her hands on her hips. “You’re really going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

“Every bleedin’ minute of it. Now get in step and hold on to my coat. I don’t know if you’ll be able to cross through on your own.”

***

Buffy’s jaw dropped at the sight that befell her as they crossed through the barrier. About twenty-five feet ahead of her stood a four-story stone building as old as any other in London. She could hear loud music pouring through the open front doors, where two demons the size of brick walls stood sentry. Bouncers--they look the same everywhere...

As they approached the building, the young woman noticed that instead of walking over to the side, where the lineup seemed to go on forever, Spike was leading them to the front doors. She was just about to point out the lineup when she remembered: slave--shut your mouth. Great. This was going to be a long, difficult night.

Spike knew this night would be great. What were the odds of ending up at the Nex, after a fifty-year absence, and knowing one of the bouncers? He took Buffy by the wrist and sauntered up to the closest bouncer.

The larger than life demon didn’t even look up. “Unless you’re looking for a shitload of pain, friend, I suggest you head over and stand in line like the other guests.”

Buffy tried to take a step back, fully acknowledging the underlying threat. Dressed as she was, there was no way she could fight this behemoth. Spike, however, remained in place. The young woman wondered what he was trying to pull--lot of good it would do them if they didn’t even get into the club.

The peroxide blonde smiled. “Now, is that a way to greet an old acquaintance?”

The Slayer watched as the bouncer paused and then looked up, grinning. “Spike! Haven’t seen your arse around here in bloody forever! What you been up to?” He smacked the vampire on the back, almost knocking him over.

Finding his balance, Spike hunched his shoulders. “You know how it is, Tony--same old, same old. Terrorize the innocent, burn down a few cities, havin’ fun.”

Tony turned an appraising look at Buffy, making her feel like a piece of meat. After tonight, she vowed she was going to wear a lot of baggy sweatpants and loose t-shirts.

“Speaking of fun...” He nodded at the Slayer. “You got a new girl?”

Spike stiffened at Tony’s comment. Although the bouncer didn’t seem to have noticed, Buffy did. She wondered if it was because it made him think of Drusilla, or because of how it made her look.

“Nah, she’s just my new pet. Got her down in California--right on the Hellmouth.” He looked at her with soft eyes and twirled a lock of her golden hair in his fingers. “Pretty little thing, in’t she?”

Tony walked around Buffy, eyeing her up and down. He clucked his tongue. “So, you sharin’, or is this one all yours?” He dragged a finger down along her spine, and it was all the Slayer could do not to shudder--that or rip the offending digit off.

Spike’s grip on her wrist got uncomfortably tight, and he pulled her sharply away from Tony’s roving hand. With a bit of a growl, he answered. “Sorry, mate. I’m not sharing her with anyone. She’s all mine.”

Buffy expected a manly show of posturing and fighting for the female--this was, after all, a couple of demons, and she was the tasty morsel. Ugh...he is so dead for this. However, Tony just shrugged and replied. “Suit yourself, mate.” Some little part of her thought wow, I’m not even worth a fight... But she knew that Spike would have fought, tooth and nail, for her. Things had really changed--once, they fought each other, and now they’d fight for each other. What was it that Hamlet guy said? Things aren’t right in the country of Denmark? Whatever, not like she paid attention in English class anyway.

Deciding to veer the subject away from his ‘pet’, Spike threw a glance at the doors. “So, who’s playing tonight?”

“Some band called the Headstones.” Tony let a few more patrons in. The night was cool, and many of them seemed eager to walk into the warm hub of the Nex.

Spike smirked at the band’s name. “Headstones, eh? Never heard of ‘em. They good?”

The bouncer leaned against the building--probably the only thing that wouldn’t cave in under his weight--and lit a cigarette. “They’re Canadian, and yeah--they’re really good. They’ve got the mosh pit in a right frenzy.”

The bleached vamp’s eyes grew. “The Nex has a mosh pit?!” He cursed the Slayer for being with him and he cursed the mission they were on. There was no better place for release of violent energy than a mosh pit. Pushing, fist fights, killing--and a demon mosh pit at that...

Exhaling a plume of smoke, Tony straightened up. “No, there usually isn’t a mosh pit. There is tonight, though. That band wasn’t on for 5 minutes before all the tables and seats had been tossed aside, and about 200 demons were slammin’ bodies. I’d watch your pet closely if I were you, her bein’ such a little thing.” He pulled the rope aside, and let Spike and Buffy by, much to the protest of those patrons still stuck in the lineup. “Come by on your way out, eh Spike? Be good to see you before you disappear for another fifty years.”

Spike clapped Tony on the shoulder. “Will do, mate. Ta.”

The two blondes walked to the entrance, and paid the cover charge. Turning towards the doors, Spike leaned in and whispered in his Slayer’s ear. “You ready, pet?”

She took a deep breath. Ready? That’s a good question. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She looked up at him quickly, momentarily forgetting her slave status, and gave him a quick smile. The softness in his blue eyes comforted her--she knew that she’d be safe, in her role as ‘pet’, as long as she stuck by him.

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