Chapter 9:

A smile stayed stubbornly on his lips as he watched her sleep, wondering if they would ever get beyond the shagging to just say hello. Not that he was complaining. Bloody unbelievable she was, attached to his body like he imagined a persistent, sticky lolly to a kiddy with an overly exuberant tongue. But now the lust had subsided somewhat, left him lagging stupidly with the consequences of what he’d just done.

He’d claimed the bloody Slayer—and not through the weakness of human words, but with the depth and sincerity of his demon’s heart. And Spike could do nothing but lie back happily as his bright smile threatened to crack his face.

Buffy’s slumber seemed to falter and she rubbed the tip of her nose against his chest, a crazy itch that had dragged her from some of the sweetest dreams she’d ever had. “Mmmmmm,” she hummed into his skin and her eyes shot open at Spike’s rumbling laugh. It sounded so startling—probably because she’d never heard it before. Not without the taint of evil glee. And the being right under her ear was kind of confronting, too.

“You sound happy,” she mumbled sleepily as she lifted her head and kissed his lower lip, accidentally missing his whole mouth in her laziness.

Her back slammed into the floor with an ‘oomph’ as he rolled them off the couch. He cringed a little in apology as he took his turn to nip at her lip.

“Sorry ‘bout that. All m’blood was beginning to settle like I was a corpse.” He grinned at her, even as she scrunched up her face with the little ‘ewwww’ that she favoured when her attention was forced to disgusting images.

“You just wanted to be on top. Admit it,” she demanded, her eyes soft and bright with some kind of feeling he was so hopeful was the beginnings of love. He knew he was lost. Completely buggered if the truth be known, and absolutely chuffed with that result. He’d left pure bloody terror way back at the other bend.

He rolled his eyes, mock glaring at her as his gaze settled on her plump, abused lips.

“I’ll admit it,” he told her huskily, but didn’t take it further. His kiss was brief before pushing back to just soak up her spirit. “So, I think last we were talking you’d admitted to vamp-napping me. What are you gonna do with me now, love?” His voice was hushed, divided with the need to tell her what he had done and yet keep it quiet; protecting himself from her anger should she not accept that she was now his. And all the while he hoped she could hear his alteration of the pet name, grasp the sentiment that was now infused in the once meaningless endearment.

“I think you turned the tables,” she told him affectionately while running her knuckles over the sharp angles of his face. “And I am so not complaining. I’m all Satisfied Girl, and Happy-With-The-Situation Girl.”

He stopped and wondered, piecing together the night until he was so confused he had tied himself into knots.

“Why’d you do it? I was ready to end my torment last night, and instead you’ve brought me into your home, an’ against your Watcher’s advice. What’s that all about, pet?”

He drew unneeded breath deep into his lungs, just so it could sit heavily while he held it and drove himself out of his mind with waiting. With wanting romantic declarations that were far from making sense. Were too soon to be believable, even if he was verging on that revelation himself.

“I couldn’t bear seeing them treat you like that. And I could see the defeat on your face, like you could do nothing about it. Except you could. I told you, you had me.”

Yeah, he had her and he couldn’t dull his grin even if he tried.

“You do know I’m a bad, evil vampire? Could take you in your sleep any time I…”

He was interrupted with light, tinkling giggles. “Yeah, cause you haven’t had the opportunity yet. I’ve only been sleeping all over you.”

“You’re right tasty, Slayer. Thought I’d draw out the pleasure a bit. Save a nibble for later.” His cocky self-satisfied smirk knocked her sideways, had her mouth flapping uselessly as her face burned hot with remembered shivers of exactly that. Pleasure like she’d never known before.

The minutes drew out as they suddenly seemed lost, drinking in their reflected expressions of mixed desire and confusion. Buffy was the first to shake it off.

“Okay, so now that I have you, I’m not entirely sure what to do with you. I kinda didn’t plan that far ahead.”

Spike’s smirk was predictable of course, and Buffy could have kicked herself for giving him such an easy opportunity. But then she was left stunned when he kept all crude sentiments to himself, merely brushing a very soft, very loving kiss across her lips.

“They’ll come back for me, o’course. ‘M their pet cripple and they aren’t gonna be happy the Slayer pulled one over right in front of them.”

Buffy was nodding, knowing the truth of it by just remembering the vengeful flicker in Angelus’s eye when he’d gone out of his way to destroy her after their night together. Before that thought could even begin to hurt her, Buffy blinked, bringing back into focus the naked form of the most gorgeous man she had ever seen.

“Can I just ask what…um…kinda happened here between us? Then I can sort out the ‘what to do with you’ bit, maybe?”

He smirked at her, but it immediately shifted into a heart melting, glowy kind of smile.

“Do you really need to ask, luv?”

Buffy watched him thoughtfully, could see the vulnerability in his eyes even as he was hiding behind the bravado of Big Bad.

“You’re right. I guess I don’t.” And she stood up, grabbed a blanket that had fallen from the sofa and wrapped herself up in it. She didn’t look at him as she turned and took her first step to the staircase that would lead her to some privacy, hiding a smile as she almost felt his frantic efforts to stop her.

“Don’t be a bloody bitch. You know I was trying to get you to tell me what you feel. But how typical, make Spike put himself out there for the Slayer to laugh at.”

Buffy was quick to spin back and fall to her knees in front of him, pulling his head to her chest as she tried to reassure him.

“Spike, I think I just made you mine somehow, and I think I’m never letting you go. So we have to work on your legs and get your strength back so you can protect yourself against them. And so you can walk up my stairs.”

When he lifted his head he encountered a very cheeky, yet somehow also hopeful grin.

And he felt courage and confidence settle in his heart.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Angelus had so far been unable to quell his fury enough to unshrivel his dick. Being laughed at, by mortals as well as a girl he’d fucked and dumped, was beyond a point he could deal with any kind of sense. His rage knew no bounds as, instead of pounding Dru into a mattress or a stone wall, he’d become impotent in that other than his fists.

And he was still to calm down his furious pacing, ideas spinning through his head at how best to pay the bitch back. She’d mocked him, she’d gotten over him, and worst of all, she’d vampnapped his favourite pet of the moment. Spike didn’t get a reprieve, an escape until the day Angelus sanctioned it. He was head of the line and he’d be fucked if he’d let some scrawny-assed, bad fuck bitch Slayer waltz into his home and override his rule.

So, he’d make them pay for making fun of the head of the clan. Make little roller Billy-boy think twice for allowing himself to be at the mercy of his natural enemy.

Dru came slinking into the hall, her body clothed with velvets of another era and singing sadly to herself. She’d apparently dealt with the loss of her pleasure, knew that with the disappearance of Spike, Daddy would be too preoccupied and angry to get his courage back. It was a shame, because every little bit of pussy boosted his confidence immeasurably. Still, that’s what good girls were for, and all she needed was a little tip to badness, a small suggestion that would get him back on track, and he’d swell inside her again.

“Bad Slayer, taking our Spike. She’s taken him dancing and the dancehall is all white. But while she’s happy and floating, mummy is all alone. We can take from her too, Daddy. Make her cry and want to give my Spike back.” Her eyes gleamed with a madness tainted with evil clarity.

Angelus saw and smirked at her brilliance. Of course, mamma Summers was the perfect catch of the day. Not so bad looking in a more middle-aged way, but then she’d have something fundamental to bring to the family. Knowledge, familiarity and a second pussy to demoralize. He could see poor sad Buffy’s face now, having to choose to stake her own mother or let her go and wreak bloodshed on all her ex-friends. It was a delicious concept and apparently just the thought he needed as his cock began to harden and he jumped at Dru, shocking her enough to get her chained to the wall.

She hung like a prize painting, her dress hanging in ribbons within seconds as Angelus shoved his cock deep inside her. He frowned. There was never enough tightness. Even virgin Buffy hadn’t squeezed him like she should. He pumped in vain, knowing it would take close to twenty minutes for his cock to be stimulated enough by Dru’s loose channel to blow and it just wasn’t good enough now he had a plan.

Paying little mind to the awkward cross of her arms and the pained cry of his childe, he spun Dru around and found another treasure, thrusting viciously into a tighter hole and groaning in satisfaction. This one was a treat—not a passage he explored too often for fear of loosening it up too much. The laughing faces of Giles and Spike had him pumping furiously, his balls swinging in a rapid need for activity. He felt the anger surge, wanting to squeeze Dru’s neck so hard her head popped off but knowing she didn’t deserve it.

She’d never laughed. Never gave credence to the taunts that disparaged the size of his dick. She was such a good girl, his Dru. She worked hard to make sure Daddy was happy, that Daddy was rigid and good to go, and if she couldn’t satisfy him with her loose hole, she sucked him into release, or tortured him there. Yeah, he couldn’t dust Dru. Without her loyalty, what did he have?

Close to nothing.

And THAT was something he couldn’t deal with, because Angelus was everything. Had everything.

Just because he’d lost Spike? Meant nothing, because he’d get him back. And then he’d thrash the bravado right out of him. He had centuries of time. He might have failed in the twenty years he’d had before the curse, but now he had all he’d need.

Spike was going to be put in his place. Even if it killed the good fine citizens of Sunnydale.
 

Chapter 10:

His Slayer was all muddled.

Spike sprawled out in an armchair, beyond grateful to have something more comfy to lounge about in than his trusty wheelchair, and watched the Slayer interact with her friends. The look on all their faces—but particularly the whelp’s—was priceless. The little redhead was shaking, letting one leg jig nervously as she almost sat in the other’s lap. The boy had grasped a stake and was staring at Spike, even as words were aimed at his friend.

“Are you okay, Buffster?” Mahogany eyes never left their surveillance of the bleached vamp, the one that had made no sudden moves since they’d gaily entered the Summer’s house and plonked down for a friendly get together. None since they’d both screamed and sat clinging to each other on recognising the vampire threat they’d been wary of before Angel departed the group.

“Good as gold. Why wouldn’t I be, Xan?” Buffy had a confused smile fluttering at her lips and it apparently did nothing to stop the pounding of the brunette’s heart.

“Holy Frijoles, you’ve a murderous rampaging vampire sitting in your mom’s favourite chair. I’m thinking there has to be something just a little wrong with this picture.”

Spike licked his lips and contemplated the boy, liking the way he shuddered in fear and the rapid pulse at his neck. Truth be told the steady rhythm of his blood was making Spike feel a tad peckish and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. He gulped even as he sat forward, watching the other one as he seemed to jump back and cover his throat with his hand.

“Make him stop looking at me like that, Buffy. Have you been turned? Have you tricked us here as vamp chow?”

Buffy looked horrified, finally noticing the rather severe attention Spike was paying to Xander’s neck.

“Hey, stop that!” She threw a couch cushion at his face and when he’d spluttered back to awareness it was to find a disappointed look on her face.

“I can’t bloody help it if the git’s fear is intoxicating. Get him to tone it down a notch or two.” His lip was pouty as he slumped back in the chair, his fingers stabbing at the stuffing of the cushion even as he felt himself fall into a sulk.

“You’re a vampire that’s threatened to kill us a number of times. Did you expect my friends to throw you a ‘get well soon’ party?” Buffy took incredulity to whole new levels.

“Well, no,” he admitted grudgingly. “But they could bloody wait and let you explain before assuming I’d turned you.”

He sounded offended, like it actually hurt him to have others think he’d be stupid or selfish enough to turn the Slayer. He may have killed a couple of them in his time—and that was out of sheer warrior equality—but to turn one, that was just playing unfair and with less braincells than Dru on a good day.

There was a ruckus at the door and in came an annoyed looking Giles, looking warily—but not even slightly surprised—at Spike before he found himself situated in another chair and waiting expectantly for the explanation he’d bailed on in the morning.

“I’ve thought about it hard, Buffy, and I feel quite certain that you can make this…situation have some sense about it. While I am completely thrown as to what it could be, I feel sure there must have been something to encourage your folly in kidnapping a vicious vampire that you’ve been trying to dust for months.”

Xander turned freaked out eyes from his more sober father-figure to the friend who’d saved his butt more often than not.

“You vampnapped Captain Peroxide?” He jumped to his feet, waving the stake haphazardly through the air. “Only one explanation for this kind of weirdness, G-man. She’s been seduced to the Dark Side.”

“And please let that be the only reference to obscenely tacky pop culture,” Giles muttered dryly, his hand seizing a hanky while the other plucked the glasses from his face and dimmed his view of the murderous cripple across from him.

Buffy seemed to just collapse on a vacant chair and sigh loudly. Some days it just wasn’t worth tearing yourself away from your newly gained vampire lover.

“Xander, sit. Put the stake down. While I’m sitting right here, Spike won’t be lunging for anyone’s throat. Will you, Spike?” The narrow-eyed look she gave him was enough of a warning and Spike rolled his eyes and slouched back in his chair.

“Yeah, ‘cause that wouldn’t be embarrassing. Try a launch and my legs’d buckle before I got one step from the chair. Boy probably tastes sour, anyway.”

Buffy leaned over and patted his hand happily, approval obvious in the ease of her muscles.

“As for the making sense of this action, ahh, not so much. Seriously, Giles, I even slept on it, and all I can say is, I went with gut instinct. Besides, what they were doing to him was way with the grossness. I wouldn’t want my worst enemy being treated like that.” Buffy looked at her friends and watcher and almost giggled at their look of astonishment.

“Hate to break it to ya, Buff, but he is your worst enemy.” Xander sat back, clearly confused about what was going on and who was sitting in his buddy’s living room. “What the frilly heck is going on here? We pluck random vamps out of cruel homes to show them a better life now? I am NO girl scout.”

“Whelp, you’re not even a boy scout.”

Xander spluttered and waved his hands wildly in the direction of Spike. “See? And now with the insults.”

“Ooh, scared are we?” Spike sneered and then suddenly looked abashed as Buffy’s seriously pissed off face broke through his preoccupation with ribbing the boy.

You so won’t be getting any if you don’t stop threatening my friends.

Spike jumped and stared wide-eyed as Buffy’s voice ripped through his head.

“You say something, pet?” He looked closely at the slight flush of her cheeks and wondered when he’d suddenly become a mind reader.

“No,” she said out loud and then suddenly looked scared as images of the both of them writhing around naked on her bed flashed behind her eyes.

Like what you see, luv? Spike smirked as her cheeks reddened further and locked away this new discovery. It certainly wasn’t a phenomena that he’d ever heard of between vamps, but then he’d never heard of a vampire being joined with a slayer before, either. No doubt about it, Spike loved being unique. He’d always suspected he wasn’t your average vampire, but this—as far as he was concerned—cemented him in the category of the Unusual Vampyre Hall of Fame.

It was almost funny—considering all the years he’d spent trying to live up to the shadow of Angelus and fulfil Dru’s expectations of the perfect vamp. Until this slayer had come along and completely taken over his mind.

When he finally managed to water down his thoughts a bit and looked up, it was to find four sets of eyes staring at him in horrified fascination.

“Y-you see yourself as an anomaly to your species?” Giles asked, watcherly interest already writing this strange encounter up in his mind.

“Did you knock his head a few times on the door when you brought him in, Buff?” Xander was staring at his friend with his mouth hanging open, finding it hard to reconcile the obscene statements from el weirdo vamp, and the fact that Buffy had invited death into her house.

“How long have you been thinking about me?” Buffy couldn’t quell the grin that was splashed all over her face. It was so weird, this thing that had happened between her and Spike. But it was so with the flattering that he’d thought of her. Though, now she thought about it, it was kinda creepy that he’d been so preoccupied with her.

“Well, yeah. Wanted to take out my third slayer, didn’t I?” Spike looked at them all like they’d been on a trip and left him behind. It was a good way to cover his embarrassment over opening his mouth and revealing things he hadn’t had the time to sort through yet.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to watch Buffy’s face drop, her hurt a wound he would never have expected to strike him so hard. He really was a git when he didn’t think things out first. Here he was, newly connected to this girl in a fundamental and supernatural way, and he was already pissing her off with not quite accurate tales of his pursuit. Sure, killing her had been the top of his list—it didn’t rule out the fact that every little aspect of her had intrigued him.

“Er, quite. Perhaps we should start thinking of the repercussions of this…rather foolhardy act. I know you probably don’t want to think of this right now, Buffy, but I believe we can expect Angelus to be rather resentful of our…poking amusement at his…hmmm—“

“Pecker?” Spike supplied and the three of them shared a short moment of amused solidarity as Angel’s short and puny appendage flashed through all their minds.

“Angel has a small penis?” Willow asked in confusion. “How did you manage to see that?”

“I don’t care. That is one sight I wish I’d been in on.”

They all stopped to stare at Xander, his friends at least hoping that he hadn’t quite caught the implication of what he’d just said. Indecision contorted his face before it completely screwed up in disgust. “Ewwww, so with the no freaking way, people. I just meant in the humiliation stakes. I mean, being dead would probably cramp the lifestyle a bit. For all we know, being vamped and all with the undead is just an unfortunate side effect.”

“That is so not true.” And Buffy was back to being the centre of attention to a very intrigued group of friends.

“Really?” Willow grinned as she struck upon some as yet unshared piece of best friend worthy information and decided that biding her time would only get her so far. Before she left this house, she’d be packing Buffy gossip like nobody’s business.

Buffy flushed crimson and turned frantically to Spike. He leered and looked her up and down, a sparkle of passion already warming his cold blue eyes.

“I’d say the Slayer has a pretty accurate idea of the package.”

“Oh dear Lord.” Giles slouched in his chair in escalating levels of despair and decided that as long as they implied no more, he could quite hopefully get through his day. “Please, let’s keep our minds on the danger at hand.”

Buffy finally looked worried and she moved to sit closer to her watcher.

“What do you think he’ll do, Giles?

Giles looked uncertain, opening his mouth and shutting it before words could pass his lips. “I suspect Spike might be able to enlighten us on that score.”

“Well, I am the Poof’s pet project. Without me there’s no one to torture and call anti-pc terms. Wanker likes to be able to one up others, and having me in a wheelchair didn’t do me any favours.”

“Oh, so that’s how you saw his…thing. You were helping him with the—“ Xander waved his hand around distastefully, almost glaring at Buffy. “Essentials.”

“What? Don’t be a git. I don’t need to get help for the ‘essentials’. Girl saw my bits in a much more satisfying way. If you’re needing instruction, just let me know.”

“For the love of—“ Giles was staring hard at the liquor cabinet and everyone was suddenly silent.

Spike resumed, sneering at the boy all the while. Stupid little whelp making him put his foot in it again and probably making Buffy more than reluctant to be near his ‘bits’ again any time in the near future. Anger leant him strength and he could feel a returning prickle through the nerves of his legs. Thoughts of Buffy lovin’ always kept his cock alive and throbbing, but the returning sting in his legs gave him hope that he might be able to drag himself upstairs. That positive image was enough to have him move this meeting along. It was beyond time the Slayer’s friends buggered off so he could get back to the things that concerned him.

“Right. Angelus is a bloody vindictive sod. He’ll find your weakness and play on it. Knowing how his mind works, my guess is he’ll come after one of you lot. Whoever is the closest to the Slayer.”

“Oh.” Buffy shuddered and glanced at Spike, fear reflected momentarily in her beautiful green eyes. “I am so glad my mom isn’t here.”

Something struck Spike, some kind of warning, but the meaning was obscure and he wasn’t quite up to deciphering this new propensity toward helping the Whitehats.

“So, I guess we should all stay indoors at night or make with the sleepovers,” Willow suggested hopefully.

“Not bloody likely,” Spike exploded, thoughts of naked slayer predominate in his mind.

Glares from all four of the other occupants made him wilt a little and he sat back with a pout.

“Right. Guess it’s a bloody party then.”
 

Chapter Eleven

She was so going to kick vampire ass. All the way to the top of her stairs. She hadn't been planning on offering her empty motherless home to her friends for an impromptu get together. Even if it was to save her friends from Angelus. She'd had her eyes on some Spike booty, and damn if this meant she'd have to be all evasive and Alone Girl. It was enough to make her pout. Well, she had the day, right? She could shoo them all home and just tell them to be back before dark and she could get her thing on with Spike for the time they were away.

Perfect. She loved a good plan.

"Okay then. Let's get rolling. Everyone go and pack what they'll need tonight and meet back here before it gets dark. Any questions? Good. We'll see you then."

"Ooh, sleepover," squealed Willow as she was herded out the door, unaware that Giles and Xander were shooting glares of venom at Spike as he continued to lounge in the chair, completely relaxed with hands crossed behind his head.

Buffy nearly pushed them the final step through the door, almost slamming it in her haste to be alone with Spike. She collapsed against the hard wood, almost panting her relief that they were gone with less fight than she'd expected. When she lifted her eyes, Spike was stretching suggestively, one hand wandering over his thinly covered abs as the other stayed behind his neck.

"Luv, think I need a bit of a wash. Can you help me up the stairs?"

Wet Spike.

Buffy made a conscious effort to not run to his side, quickly helping him to his unsteady feet and almost giggled when he took a tentative first step.

"Don't overdo it," she warned and Spike felt himself warm inside.

"Feels a lot stronger. Think another sip of your sweet blood and I might feel a lot more like my nimble self." He grinned cheekily at his woman, feeling his crotch ache as he thought about her naked and slippery.

"Spike! Stop it." Her voice seemed all croaky and heated as her eyes swept over his zipper. She settled the hand hanging over her shoulder much closer to her breast than it had been before, and felt the air rush from her lungs. He gave her a little squeeze, but when Buffy turned to reprimand him, his eyes were focused hard on the stairs. His mouth was hardened in determination to put one foot in front of the other to get to the first step.

Buffy grinned secretly and jiggled a little so more of her aching breast could press into his lax palm. And then she steadily aimed them for the stairs.

The ascent took ten minutes, and by the time Spike's foot took purchase against the landing, they both could feel the thrumming power that was slowly building in his lower limbs.

Still, they opted to fill the bath rather than leave him standing under the water spray. Buffy watched the rush of water from the faucet and felt a flicker of desire while imagining the disrobing of her vampire and his slow immersion into the depths of her bath.

When the water reached a reasonable level, Buffy flicked off the taps and turned to find Spike, naked, hard and proud staring at her with nothing less than heated lust.

"Way I see it, pet, you have two options." He tilted his head and took courage from the blush that stained her cheeks and the heartbeat that raced as her eyes fell and stayed on his protruding cock. He felt it necessary to of course curl his palm around his shape, feeling a surge of pride at her gasp and slow movement closer to him. "One, you could go and let me have a wash in private, not knowing what vile, evil things I could get into. Or, you could help me reach the 'out of the way' places and keep an eye on all my bits so I don't get out of control." He looked at her with a mixture of hopeful longing and intense desire. Far too many hours had gone by since he'd been inside her, been able to taste her.

"I can't possibly—" She trailed off uncertainly as Spike's bare shoulders dropped and his gaze hit the floor. "Stay clothed when my man is all with the naked."

Before her last word settled in the air, she was clutched firmly in Spike's embrace, his lips brushing softly over his marks even as his hands delved under layers of cloth and found smooth skin.

"We have three hours before they come back. Think we can make it?" Buffy whispered against the silky lobe of his ear, her teeth gently nibbling as her own hands found bareness.

"It's bloody miserable, is what it is. We'll just have to make do."

His nose nudged her chin and Buffy shivered, her need increasing every second that the steam rose from the tub and enclosed them within a warm heady mist. And then she felt his hands on her flesh, stripping all her clothing away until she could feel the hardness of him against her as his lips claimed hers in wild need. He lifted a knee and Buffy felt the inside of her thigh brush against the hairy surface of Spike; felt the hard thickness of him as he settled just a whisper away from her aching pussy lips.

While he sucked away her breath, Buffy began a slow sway back and forth, wanting to cry every time he brushed against her. He propelled her hips closer and groaned as malleable flesh spread around the length of his cock, hot liquid spilling around him as he thrust back and forth.

Spike dived on her throat, fangs bursting from his gums as he sunk them into the flesh of her neck, his cock redirecting and finding her dark, wet channel. He settled as he sucked in mouthfuls of her blood, the power flooding through him as Buffy moaned and writhed around on his cock like a desperate fish for water. He withdrew his fangs, sealed the mark, and with one hard thrust knocked them so off balance Buffy tumbled backwards and they ended head over arse in the tub full of water.

Spike let loose a roar of laughter, watching Buffy splutter and frantically try to get the stringy clumps of her honeyed hair out of her eyes before she pounced, pushing Spike back as she remounted his cock and started a rhythm that rocked their watery world.

"You think drowning me is funny, huh?" And with some kind of wily slide, Spike found his back on the base of the tub, his mouth filling with water as he struggled to stop laughing, and Buffy bouncing on his prick like the woman meant business.

Spike sat up choking and spitting water in amidst a grip of humour that had been absent from his existence for years. She was a right firecracker, this one, and he was going to enjoy exploding along with her on a regular basis. He pulled her closer, lifting her slightly so his mouth could catch a swollen nipple and suck it hard into his mouth. And then he tipped her backwards, relishing the swish of water as it smacked the inside of the other end of the tub.

Buffy's neck was arched, her hair being lulled under water as she felt the slow caress of her receptive walls with Spike's cock. She could feel him so deep, barely touching that spot inside that sent her high off an invisible top. Eager nipples sought his touch, and then the squeeze that made Buffy hold her breath, made her pant as she began to pulse and shudder around him. This peak wasn't hard, wasn't fast, but slipped sweetly over her like a favoured dessert.

When she came back down, it was with a smile that told of her affection and satisfaction with her current choices. Buffy curled her arms around Spike's neck and hugged him tight; hugged him happy. So he got her underlying message, she pressed the softest kiss against his lips, hoping to convey all that she was feeling.

"You know, you kinda make everything about this sex thing hot."

A scarred brow lifted in amazement. "It's meant to be pleasurable, pet. Wasn't your big go with the Poof all you'd imagined?"

Spike couldn't work out if her embarrassment made him confident or insecure. He waited almost in pain for what kind of stamp she'd put on that experience of her life.

"It wasn't exactly Harlequin," she revealed with a blush and then was kissing him again with that innocence and wholesomeness that meshed beautifully with her lusty siren-like persona.

Yeah, he was completely caught. And he only had two and three quarter hours to make his own brand as deep as it could be before her friends came back armed with arguments about why being with him was wrong.

He just hoped she saw their claim to each other as much more than an argument—and much more of a destiny.


 

Chapter Twelve

"Yes. God...more...please—" Buffy was almost beside herself as Spike pumped her to another mini volcanic-like explosion, waiting less than calmly as it gathered enough power to erupt from the coil deep inside her body. Her leg was stretched over his shoulder, his mouth suckling at her marks as his hands rubbed through the sweat that had left a heavy layer over her body. She collapsed back against the stairs, finding her voice hoarse as Spike kept thrusting, her orgasm gone but another building even faster. With one almost painfully held breath, Buffy screamed, letting it out at last what a continuous three hours of erotic exercise did for her mental stability. Angelus might have tortured Dru free of hers, but Spike had without a doubt fucked her raw and left her sanity somewhere upstairs. Quite possibly on the living room floor right in front of her mother's favourite chair.

Her panting breath was raspy and over the desperate gasps for oxygen, Buffy thought she could hear a knock somewhere above her. Spike had collapsed, completely exhausted on top of her, the rough basement steps making their mark deep in her back. And she'd never felt better or happier in her whole life.

Spike lifted his head from the comfy pillow of her breasts with a long leisurely lick.

"Think your mates might be back." As reluctant as they both were to move, he levered himself up on strong arms, Buffy following tiredly after. She watched in fascination as Spike slowly pulled his cock back, feeling as well as seeing the blatant run of their combined fluids as it flowed out of her.

Buffy felt so bad. She'd been literally screwed into the ground and was covered in sweat and come as her friends waited for her fresh, wholesome presence to let them into her house. She was meant to be protecting them and yet she was still thinking of the places she could be pressed naked with Spike pounding into her.

She was so wet and slippery that it wasn't possible to put on pants. She could feel semen dripping down the insides of her thighs and she was extra glad that she'd worn a long skirt and light top when she'd come to the basement under the pretence of setting up Spike's bed. At least she could be dressed while she let everyone in and then she could escape for a quick shower.

"Mmmmm," she moaned as Spike bit at her neck gently. His human teeth were even more erotic than the primal feel of joining she felt with his fangs lodged inside her body. She giggled as he continued to taste her, nibble on her as she struggled back into her clothing. "Maybe you should stay down here while I let everyone in and then have a quick shower. You know, so you don't end up scaring anyone."

Spike looked at her through hooded eyelids and agreed without argument. He'd never been so shagged into the ground in his unlife. Even Drusilla hadn't been interested in a marathon like this. And Spike was fast realising the woman he'd thought was his partner for life was far from compatible with him for the long term.

A quick peck on the lips and Buffy was thumping back up the stairs, running through the house and opening the front door, and all the while, Spike lay back on the basic cot bed with a sappy grin on his face. Almost absently he tested his legs, bending his knees and straightening out his legs while suspended a little in the air. That was it. Feeling. He finally had it back and all it had taken was a complete switch in his attitude, in his lifestyle, and in his diet. He should have been wiser and known that staying forever with Dru would get him killed. She gave him life, after all. As daft as she was, she probably thought she could wipe him out with the fickle turn of her mind.

Spike considered the Slayer, the woman who had taken him from that and changed him to something he didn't yet understand. Well, not completely, anyway. But for reasons he wasn't privy to, it didn't matter. This was a new place—one where he wasn't expected to be anything but who he was. There had been no games—except those the Slayer was inclined to initiate when she was in the right kind of mood—no head tricks to alter the way he felt or acted. Buffy knew he was a murderer, a killer, a monster that had fed and bled thousands in his time, and yet she seemed to discard his history as something to be faced at another time.

This time was for them, to learn who the other was down deep. Not the killer of his kind, and not the beast she was formed to save the world from. Just Spike and Buffy on a journey to work out why they meant so much to each other—and so fast. It sent a trickle of fear through him, knowing that more than likely the brown sludgy stuff was bound to hit the fan sooner than later—especially once they faced the reality of her friends being upstairs. As much of a party it seemed to be, even with the snack foods—and no he wasn't referring to Harris's neck though it gave him plenty of cravings—they were there in need of protection. And now that Buffy was his, and he was hers, he was part of that protection. That it was from his own family—the ones who'd taunted and tortured him throughout his unlife—was neither here nor there. They could play like it was all normal, but Spike knew better. He knew if not tonight, then next week his sire would have her vengeance, and he knew more than likely one of these people his Slayer was attached to would be gone from her life.

He never had known this kind of sadness, and that was enough to make him stand firm in this joining. In this relationship that defied time and reason. Losing any one of those now plonked in front of the telly would be too much for her. Her pain was his to bear now. His to absorb, and it was an uncomfortable knowledge.

Still, they were playing at normal tonight. A time off from all the scary thoughts and deeds. A time off from the reality of what they were in the dark—natural enemies who were raised to take the other out. Tonight, he just wanted her to be his girl.

He could hear the jollility of her friends and the dry curses of her watcher as they settled in for a night of telly, no doubt arguing over a pile of movies. Buffy didn't take long to rejoin them and Spike salivated at how fresh and clean she must be. He wanted little more than to go and touch her, kiss her, and make sure that what he'd experienced with her since he decided to be dusted by the Slayer was real.

By the time he made it half way up the basement stairs, he was convinced the first flick would be in credits before he made it. His recovery was absolutely in motion, but the progress was bloody slow. Hardly a surprise when he'd managed to shag his girl for hours at a time. Tended to take a bit out of a bloke's stamina.

The second half of the ascent was achieved with a locked jaw. Determination was nothing as the sweat began to break out on his skin. But once he'd cleared the last, the vision of Buffy stood in the kitchen doorway, a soft expression and a smile his reward. He felt so absurdly pleased to have made the effort to go to her—to spend the night amongst her group of friends—that he felt a sappy grin settle on his lips.

The strain of getting up the stairs was pure hell on his muscles, however, so the satisfaction almost died a humiliating death as he swayed at the basement door. Before he could give in—could accept his limits for the night—Buffy was at his side. She wordlessly curled an arm around his ribs, encouraging his own arm to hold her shoulders, and she led him to a vacant spot for two on the couch.

Buffy had come for him, wanted to share her night with him, and he felt himself fall a little faster to a place he knew he wasn't coming back from.

And for some completely non-evil reason, he was fine with that. His demon was fine with that. And not even one of the heartbeats in the room, not one of the racing pulses made him want to feed and wreak carnage in her living room. What he wanted was to curl up with her and be a part of her life. And if that meant watching bloody awful teenage flicks on the telly, then so be it. Not like he wouldn't enjoy the looks of exasperation the watcher wouldn't be able to repress.

No. For tonight, he was free to be something other than what he'd been for the last century. He was free to let the hungry part of his humanity out and grasp hold of something new.

And hopefully something permanent.

Buffy.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Other than a little flush of her cheeks, Buffy didn't feel even the slightest embarrassment that she'd kept her friends and watcher waiting at the door while she and Spike had finished off with the wild sex. No siree. Not even an incy bit.

So what if she dumped them at the TV and then bolted for upstairs?

They'd managed to start settling in without her. There were sleeping bags all over the floor, a half-hearted pillow fight between Willow and Xander as they waited for her to get comfy and they could press play on whatever they'd chosen to make the night appear like a normal one.

Except, how could it be? With a healing vamp in her basement—one that she knew she would rather die than give up kissing—and a demented vampire just waiting for any one of them to slip up and give him an easy snack.

Buffy was thoughtful as she looked at the as yet blank screen, knowing that all this angst would come to a crashing anti-climax if they could just get Angel back together with his soul.

And what would that mean for you, Buffy? She didn't like that getting relative peace back in her life would rely on the return of Angel. And she didn't like the concept of her having to choose between vampires. As much in love as she'd thought she'd been with him, nothing like what had happened with Spike had even come close to rocking her Angel world. So maybe that was her answer? Returning him back to the land of the brooding wouldn't mean anything to her. Angel would be back on his redemptive path, and Buffy could concentrate on what yellow brick road she was leading Spike down.

"Giles? Isn't there...I don't know...some kind of way to give Angel his soul back? I know Ms. Calendar said that her people lost the curse, but wouldn't there be some other way? I mean, gypsies can't be the only ones who have that kind of magic or knowledge, right? What about the Council? Couldn't they get their big magic guys on it and make up a spell? How hard could it be?"

By the time she'd finished, everyone was staring at her, Giles sans glasses and so his eyes looked a little unfocussed.

"Or hey, what about some kind of contact with those whacky Powers that like to pull the Buffster's strings? Is there some way to contact them? Because I'm sure they don't like losing a vamp with a conscience." Xander continued munching on his snacks, fully expecting to be told off for his stupid suggestion, even though just once he'd like to be the brainy one. The guy with the solutions.

"A-as ridiculous as that, er, sounds, I think Xander might be onto something."

Giles's bare face was right in the path of an exploding mouthful of chips.

"I am?" the brunette spluttered, eyes darting around to look at his friends to see if they were just as impressed as he was for coming up with something viable.

"Go, Xan," confirmed Buffy, a huge confident smile on her face that did wonders for the upbeat nature of the room as Giles wiped mulch off his face, disgust warring with admiration.

"I'll investigate our options further when I am at home and near my books. I am certain there is a way to converse with, if not the Powers themselves, then surely some kind of intermediary."

That was enough for Buffy. She'd started something off that could save them all, could save half of Sunnydale, and now they could settle down to munchy goodness and some nice, muscular Spike as her headrest.

Those thoughts had brought her to the kitchen just as he yanked open the basement door and dragged himself through it. The strain on his face was enough of an indication of the strength he'd used to get himself there, and Buffy felt herself burst with pride. She knew he was a fighter. Something between them had altered on a major scale, and now she felt almost like her equal was standing right in front of her.

In one wildly strange night, Buffy had brought herself home a vampire. One that had wanted to rip her heart out and tear apart her neck for months. One who had chosen her to be the marker of his death. And instead, she'd looked at him and seen so much more. Potential.

And she'd fight the world not only to keep him, but to see it through.

And she'd win. It's what Slayers did