Birthday Girl Buffy

by Spikesdeb

Spike surveyed his crypt with a satisfied smile. Yeah, it might be a hole in the ground, but he’d fixed it up.  The winnings he’d scammed from the game of poker – cash, not kittens – had stretched far enough to let him cover the essentials. 

He wanted it to be special.  For her. 

Not that she’d notice. But at least he’d know he’d done his best.  And these days his pride deserved a sop every now and then, seeing how it took such a frequent bashing. 

He checked out the sun situation.  He reckoned it was about an hour to sundown and he had a fair bit to do before then to make everything perfect.  Dragging his t-shirt over his head he headed to the rigged up shower in the lower cavern. 

+++++++++++++++++ 

Earlier that afternoon 

Buffy turned the envelope over and over in her hands.  She noted the fine, looping handwriting on the envelope – in actual ink no less – and she brought it up to her nose and inhaled deeply.  Her eyes closed as she separated out the myriad scents: whisky, cigarettes, pure Spike.  She frowned – why was she licking her lips?  And why was she so hot all of a sudden?  It was only a birthday card, no big.  And it was probably stolen.  Shaking her head to dispel the disturbing thoughts invading her mind, Buffy ripped open the envelope and dragged out the card. 

Oh.  It wasn’t a birthday card…well, not exactly… 

She opened the stiff, cream paper gasping as the red and white rose petals scattered at her feet.  What was that all about?  She picked up one satiny petal and rubbed it between her fingers absently as she read.   

~~

“Miss Buffy Anne Summers…

You are cordially invited to celebrate the day of your birth. 

Dress code: strictly frilly.  Time: 7.30 pm for 8.00 pm. 

Venue:  The Crypt (you know the one), Restfield Cemetery. 

RSVP: Spike.  aka William the Bloody. 

PS: Bring a smile…”

~~ 

The nerve!  She tutted to herself, re-reading, her lips curling in a smile.  Course, he hadn’t reckoned on the Curse of Buffy’s Birthdays so really if she did happen to call in, it’d be to do her duty as a Slayer by bringing retribution to an evil demon…  Well, that was the excuse she’d be using to herself. 

Frilly…frilly…what did she have that was frilly……

Two hours later, Buffy was surrounded by heaps of clothes, not one item deemed suitable by her picky fashion diva.  A stomp of the foot brought Dawn running. 

“Okay, what’s the sitch?  Have we been robbed?  Did I miss a demon or something?” 

Buffy spun round, eyes huge and anxious, muttering “…frilly… don’t do frilly…got leather, got denim, got bloodstains…frilly? Nuh huh…” 

“Buffy, you’re making Xander-sense here.  What are you looking for?” 

“FRILLY…!” Buffy squawked, and Dawn took a step backwards.  It was possible her sister was possessed.  By a makeover show host… 

Dawn reached for Buffy’s arm as she turned away, more clothes being ripped out of the closet and discarded behind her.  The skirt that landed on Dawn’s head was the final straw.  

“Buffy!  Stop!  Look at me.  Whatever you’re looking for – it’s not here.  You know what?  I think I can hear the mall calling …and it is your birthday….” 

Yeah.  It was.  Hence the problem. 

Buffy stood stock still, hand outstretched and hovering over the remainder of her clothes.  Nothing.  Not a frill in sight.  Dawn was right: time to shop.  See, every cloud had a silver lining…

“Good call.”  Grabbing her purse and her sister’s arm in one swoop, Buffy “The Birthday Girl” Summers headed out into the afternoon sunshine and desperately planned in her head the strategy to find the perfect frill. 

++++++++++++++++++ 

“Nothing?  She wants…nothing?  Well I don’t believe her!” 

Willow sighed.  She didn’t believe it either, but Buffy had been very clear on the not wanting of any kind of birthday celebration and she’d delivered the request with her Slayer face.  Scary.  Very.  

“Me neither, Xander!  I’d got a whole thing planned out with totally non-magical decorations and all, but she’s fierce!  I say we leave it…unless you wanna say it was your idea?” 

“Uh-uh!  Not me, you find yourself another patsy!  I’m reeling my neck back in right now!” 

“Ponce!” 

“Hey!  That hurts!  And if you’re gonna insult me, don’t do it in Spike voice – what’s wrong with a good old all-American putdown?” 

Willow giggled, frowned.  Where did that come from?  She’d used a flip-off favoured by the bleached blonde vampire – since when had she started listening to him closely enough to pick up his peculiar lingo?  Majorly weird.  She mused on it a little.  Spike was always around these days, and strangely, she didn’t mind.  In fact, she looked forward to seeing him every day… just like she looked forward to seeing Xander and Buffy.  God!  When did Spike become a friend?  She paled, worriedly sneaking a sly glance at Xander.  Did he know?  Did he feel the same way? 

Xander was thinking about sex.  Again.  Sex with Willow.  Sex with Buffy.  Sex with Anya.   Sex with Willow and Tara.  Sex with all of them, the girls screaming over his super-endowed manly person…cooing over his moves…  

“…don’t you think so?  Xander?  XANDER!  Helloooo…?” 

“What?  You’re talking to me?  I was…erm…figuring a way to celebrate the Buffster’s birthday without her going all grrr arrgh on us.  Say again.” 

“I said…that if we took her to the Bronze she’d have to be good because it’s a public place.  So she wouldn’t slap us around or anything.  Not that she would.  I don’t think.  But just to be safe…” 

“Yeah, sounds good.  We’ll get Anya and make a night of it.  How’re things with you and Tara?” 

Willow blushed.  Good.  Things were more than good.  And again, all down to Spike.  She smiled, remembering the evening that Spike had shown up at Revello Drive, throwing stones at her window to get her attention.  She’d leaned over the casement, struggling to see who was making the racket, puzzlement clouding her features when she caught a flash of pale blonde hair in the moonlight.  He’d beckoned her to come down and she’d gone, not sure why, but unable to resist finding out what the hell he was up to.  

They’d walked side-by-side; easy in each other’s company, but Spike refusing to tell her what was going on.  And Willow, who’d seen a hundred gullible victims walking through the night with a hungry vampire, forgot all about his demon side as they strolled and chatted, his voice stroking her like velvet and engaging her mind on topics she had no idea he was even aware of, never mind had in depth knowledge of.  She found herself enjoying his company, actually regretting that the conversation ended as they approached…Spike’s crypt?  Why had he brought her to his crypt?  

Spike rapped lightly on the door, took Willow by the shoulders and turned her to face it, then left her – stalking off into the night leaving behind the faint musk of his scent and a curl of cigarette smoke.  

When the door opened and Tara stood silhouetted against the candlelight, hair loose and shining like a golden veil, smiling like an angel, Willow was dumbstruck.  Tara had to take her by the hand to pull her into the crypt, closing the door – and the world, outside. 

A secret, satiated, contented smile crept across her lips. She tucked the delicious memory of that night, and Spike’s selfless act, away in her mind to savour again later and answered Xander’s question.  “We’re getting on, actually.  Doing alright.  I’ve asked her to come round later – for Buffy’s birthday.  You don’t mind?” 

Xander considered.  No, he didn’t mind.  He liked Tara – and yeah, he’d been a little – no a LOT – freaked when Willow had told everyone about her, but spending time in the gentle witch’s company was like balm for the soul.  He understood the attraction.  And Willow with Tara?  A hell of a lot happier than Willow without.  

It had taken him a while to get there, and oddly enough it was Spike who helped the transition along.  An afternoon spent in the back of the Magic Box drinking beer and talking had sorted that out.  Xander found himself opening up to the vampire, telling him of the time he’d made out with Willow while trying on the prom wear.  Then the two talked through the events of the kidnapping, when Spike had taken them to the factory.  Spike listened, nodding appropriately, supplying beer when needed and talking absolute sense.  

For that afternoon, Xander forgot Spike was a vampire and therefore on the ‘things Xander hates’ list.  And consequently, the wisdom and generosity of spirit that the vampire offered were accepted without reservation.  Xander’s self-imposed walls lost some bricks that day, and Spike had been continually chipping away at them ever since.  He kinda grew on you after time, not that Xander would ever admit that to anyone.  Not yet, anyway. 

“What about Spike?  Do we ask him?” 

Willow lowered her eyelids as Xander posed the question, not wanting to out herself over the Spike love.  She felt the burning eyes on her and fielded a non-committal answer.  “Well, yeah…I suppose.  He’d only crash in anyway, so we may as well invite him.  Up to him, doesn’t really matter to me.” 

She felt awkward saying that, guilty.  Like she’d betrayed him and his trust.  Bad Willow.  Tara wouldn’t do that; Tara would just come right out and say she wanted him there.  She was about to say just that when Xander spoke. 

“Well, yeah – he’s a good laugh.  I guess it wouldn’t be so bad, him being there.  At least we can keep an eye on him -- and he’d be a much needed boost to the guy chromosomes here…” 

Wow.  Xander Harris making with the bonding…. 

“I’ll go find him, you stay here and tell Dawnie, maybe rustle up some goodies in the way you little womenfolk do for the boys when we head back home?” 

Willow laughed; always thinking of his belly. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay here and slave away in the kitchen and leave you and Spike to go get a beer. Nice job, Xan.  And what about Anya?” 

“Well, you can call her, can’t you?  Aren’t you supposed to bond and stuff, make too much food and gossip over the making of much hearty food?  It’s traditional!” 

“Maybe in ‘The Waltons’, but we’re more like ‘The Addams Family’.” 

“Yeah….p’raps you’re right.  Chips it is then.  And dips.  Anya makes good dip.  Where’s Buffy now?” 

“She went to the mall with Dawn.  Not sure how long they’ll be.  But I can’t clue Dawn in until they get back here.” 

“Ok, well, you’ll have to come up with something to get Buffy to the Bronze.  She’ll be on radar alert anyway – tell her you just wanna spend girl time or something.  Anything.  Just get her there.  Call Anya and make plans, tell Dawn when they get back – she can keep Buffy occupied until we’re ready.” 

Willow saluted Xander’s departing back as he headed out to find Spike.  The vampire would surely be in his crypt, given the big ball of flaming fire riding high in the sky, so it wasn’t really a vamp hunt Xander was going on.  He decided to stop off at the store and buy Spike some British beer – ID permitting - leaving Willow to call Anya and come up with some non-magically created party goodies. 

+++++++++++++++ 

Buffy had finally found something she deemed ‘frilly but classy’ as opposed to ‘frilly but skanky ho’ and was happily shopping for accessories. Dawn blushed when Buffy handed over an obscene amount of money for a flimsy set of underwear, Buffy smiling a dreamy smile as she explained how one day Dawn would totally understand the less material there was to the panties equals more dollars thing.  Dawn rolled her eyes – like she didn’t already know about stuff!  This was followed by a fit of giggles that had Dawn surreptitiously sniffing at her sister’s breath for signs of booze.  Nothing.  Just toothpaste.  How weird was that… 

They stopped off at the mall café after finishing their shopping and Buffy set to demolishing pastries.  Dawn loved being with Buffy like this, when she was so much fun; not so much when she was all broody and didn’t seem to eat for days, monosyllabic when anybody tried to get her to talk.  Except Spike.  

Dawn had secret fantasies about Spike – not of the naked variety, well at least not with herself.  She spent a lot of time on the fringe, watching, listening, observing body language and the things people said by not saying anything.  She just knew that if only Buffy would act on the longing that filled her eyes every time she looked at Spike when she thought nobody else saw…well, she’d be buying a lot more frillies and wearing a lot more smiles.  Spike, of course, wore his heart on his face, his sleeve, his chest – hell, his feelings were so transparent he might as well have had ‘I love Buffy’ tattooed on his forehead.  So in her fantasy, Buffy would look at Spike when others were watching and see what he felt.  And feel it too. 

Buffy slurped on her chocolate milkshake, breaking Dawn’s daydreams.

“So, Buffy – what’s with the clothes emergency?  Hot date?” 

“Wha…date?”  Buffy blanched, then blushed, lips moving to form words that stuttered out eventually.  “No…no…nothing…nothing special…just, you know…haven’t anything frilly…” 

Buffy was bright red and fiddling with the incredibly fascinating straw from her drink.  She wouldn’t meet Dawn’s eyes.  Dawn stifled a snort.  Yeah, right – nothing special.  But she’d let Buffy think she’d got away with it and secretly dig deep to discover her secret.  She had a tiny sliver of hope that the secret was to do with Spike – she’d seen the envelope as Buffy tried to hide it away when she’d gone into her room, and recognised the handwriting – and made a sneaky attempt at verification. 

“Oh, right.  Well, anyway – your birthday; you gonna do Spike?”  Buffy’s eyes widened.  “Sorry! Slip of the tongue, I meant what are you gonna do about Spike?  ‘Cause he’ll want to do something, he loves a party.” 

“Spike?  Why would I do anything about Spike?  Spike’s nothing to do with me, Dawn.  Why do you always think I know all about Spike?” 

Ah.  Touched a raw nerve.   Definitely something to do with Spike then…. 

“Sorry.  It’s just…he really cares about you, Buffy.  You didn’t see him in the summer…he was….broken.” 

“Not my problem.  And he’s fine now anyway…” 

Buffy hated that she had to hide her feelings away from Dawn.  From herself too.  If she could just let it go…The thought of all of them, and Spike especially for some reason, hurting because of her death twisted her gut.  And here she was, thrilled with her purchases and giddy thinking about a night of hot sex and smoochies with Mr Delicious himself – and she couldn’t tell anyone.  Or…could she?  Dawn loved Spike, was always engineering situations to get them both together and alone. 

“Dawn…can I talk to you about something?  Sister stuff…girl stuff.” 

Dawn perked up…was she going to…eeeep? 

“Anything, Buffy, you can tell me anything.  Is it a secret?  Oooh – can I tease Xander with it?” 

“NO!  I mean…yes, it’s a secret, but no Xander.  Just…oh it doesn’t matter.  Forget it, it’s not important.” 

Dawn decided to take control.  Buffy really struggled with letting people in, sometimes you just had to barge on in there. 

“Oh, but I think it is; I think it’s very important.  Let me tell you what I think, ‘k?” 

Buffy eyed her sister warily.  Dawn was scarily accurate sometimes with the big emotional issues and she had the distinct feeling that her younger sister would be right on the button.  “Okay…amaze me.” 

“It’s your birthday, right?  Not usually the bestest Buffy day in the year and so you’ve banned us from any boogying – and just to let you know, that never works.  I bet Willow and Xander are blowing up balloons as we sit here.  Now, tell me if I’m way off the mark but you got a card or something today – pretty fancy envelope with curly writing on it – don’t deny it, I saw you trying to hide it!  I’ve seen that handwriting before, Buffy.  I know it was from Spike.” 

Buffy blushed and dipped her eyes.  Yep, scary key sister was doing that perceptive thing again.  She was so busted… 

“So, card or something from Spike and the next thing you’re slaying your entire wardrobe looking for frilly.  I’m not stupid, and I’m not a kid.  Those panties – well, the strings with panty-like qualities – not your regular patrol wear are they?  There’s something going on between you and Spike.  I’m right, aren’t I?” 

Dawn’s smug grin and folded arms as she sat back in her chair, coupled with the hopeful doe eyes she turned on her sister had Buffy smiling in response.  God, it’d be so good to share.  Maybe. 

“Okay, you’re right.  But nobody else hears about it, right?  I mean it, Dawn.  Nobody.  I’m not ready to share this.  I may never be.” 

Dawn threw her hands up in exasperation.  “Gah!  Buffy!  Why the hell not?  What’s wrong with you?  Can’t you see how much he loves you?  I can – and I’m only recently alive and a teenager.  He worships you!  What could be wrong with that?” 

“He’s a demon, Dawn, a vampire.  I’m the vampire slayer.  Add it all up, it doesn’t make for happy ever after, does it?” 

“Oh, forget that!  I’m not even real; some monks made me out of green shiny stuff.  Do you love me?” 

“Of course I do!  And that’s so not the same thing.” 

“Jeez, Buffy, why not?  It’s exactly the same thing.  You don’t know where I came from; I could be hellspawn for all you know.  But what matters is what I am now.  And what matters is what Spike is now.  You can’t seriously believe he’s evil?” 

Buffy sat back and considered Dawn’s question.  Did she?  And if she did, and still let him touch her, what did that say about her?  God, honesty was tough… 

“No…not really.  He’d hate me for saying it but the Big Bad has a marshmallow centre.  It’s just…how can I forget my calling, Dawn?  I get tinglies when he’s near…” 

“Good tinglies, right?” Dawn interrupted.  Buffy raised her eyebrow and Dawn giggled at the unconscious imitation of the vampire in question. 

“Vampire tinglies, Dawn.  Wanna drag your mind out of that gutter?  What I’m saying is that it’s wrong – Buffy plus vampire equals wrong.  It’s that simple.” 

“Angel.”  Dawn just threw the one word down on the table and waited for Buffy to pick it up or shuffle and deal again.  

 Buffy sighed, that old chestnut.  “Dawn.  You know that Angel was different; he had a soul.  Spike’s soulless.” 

“Is he?  Do you ever really look at him, Buffy?”  

The slayer wouldn’t meet her sister’s eyes.   

“Okay, technically you’re right but don’t you see he’s different?  It’s not just the chip.  I’ve spent a lot of time with him, sat and held his hand while he cried, listened to him ramble and spout weird poetry when he was drunk.  One time I suggested to him that we get somebody to frighten Xander when he’d been super mean.  Spike wouldn’t hear of it, said that Xander was grieving just like we were.  But he could have, Buffy.  He could’ve arranged an accident, got a hungry vamp to hurt him.” 

Dawn was right.  He could have easily got somebody to do his dirty work for him.  He could have slaughtered the lot of them while she was…gone.  

Buffy spoke so softly that Dawn struggled to hear her.  “It’s just hard for me, Dawnie.  When I’m with him...” blushing again.  “Well, he makes me feel...alive.  He can be so gentle sometimes.  He just makes me feel.” 

Dawn leaned forward and placed a hand on Buffy’s restlessly clenched fingers.  “Then you should let yourself love him.  You don’t know the way you look at him, when you think nobody will notice?  It’s like you’re aching for his eyes to rest on you.  And when they do, you kinda glow.  It’s beautiful.” 

Buffy giggled, cheeks now bright red.  This was nice, this sharing.  Not scary at all now it was all out.  But then again, Dawn was squarely in the “we love Spike” camp.  It wouldn’t matter to her if he was slaughtering half of Europe.  “Yeah?  Really?” 

“Really.  Look at today.  We’ve had fun, haven’t we?  Shopping for girly things.  When was the last time we did that?  How about never.  And you’ve been all happy and stuff just thinking about seeing him.  Give yourself a birthday present, Buffy.  Let him in.  Please.” 

The two girls hugged over the table, Buffy glad she’d decided to confide in her sister and Dawn thrilled that her fantasy appeared to be coming true.  They made their way to the exit and home, Buffy telling Dawn that she’d have to keep the Scoobies busy while she slipped out to keep her birthday date. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

“She just went out?  And you didn’t try and stop her?”  Xander was pacing, Anya watching his butt as he kept walking past her. 

“Oh, like I could stop her!  She’s the slayer, possessed of heightened strength and skill.  Ring a bell?” 

“Well, did she say where she was going?  What was she wearing?” 

Dawn smiled.  ‘not a lot!’  “Oh, you know – slayer stuff.” 

Willow chirped in.  “We’ll just wait for her to slay, she’ll come home, and we’ll hit the Bronze and party.  The decorations are up, the dip’s ready and the chips just need putting in bowls.  Everything’s under control.”  

Willow moved to the stereo, turned up the volume and music beat through Revello Drive.  She took Tara’s hand and led her out to the centre of the floor, Xander and Anya following suit.  The party had started; the birthday girl would just be a little late. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Buffy negotiated the gravestones in the cemetery with care, her spiked heels sinking into the grass.  She was muttering beneath her breath at the sheer idiocy of strappy sandals when teetering along to a vampire’s crypt.  A sensible person would have brought them with and worn her boots until she reached the door – but then again, there was nowhere to stash stuff in this outfit and a tote bag would have totally ruined the effect of the sexy dress.  Nervously, her fingers smoothed the crimson fabric over her hips.  What was she thinking?  She’d sneaked out of Revello, sandals in hand, shimmy down the tree with her skimpy dress blowing up to reveal barely-there panties.  It was pure luck that Xander and Willow were facing away from the window when she hit the ground.  But she’d made it, having ducked behind trees and lampposts on the way so as to avoid any suggestive comments on her clothing - or lack of. 

Poor Dawn too.  She was probably undergoing a Scooby grilling right now and cursing Buffy for abandoning her to it.  But no, Buffy smiled when she realised that Dawn would walk over hot coals if it meant Buffy and Spike could get some alone time together.  Letting Dawn in on the secret was definitely of the good. 

And now here she was.  Frilly.  Bringing a smile.  No big. 

Nervous, like a teenager on a first date, her heart hammering in her chest and her breath coming in little gasps, she took another step forward and was inches from the door, hand raised to knock, when it opened.  The dim interior glimmered with the flickering flames of the candles Spike had virtually filled the crypt with, the backlight lending an ethereal glow to the vampire’s form as he stood silhouetted in the doorway.  And there was something different about his outline… 

A tuxedo.  He was wearing a tuxedo, complete with bow tie – untied, of course, to dangle down seductively besides his open-collared shirt - hair tousled rather than gelled; and in complete contrast to the formality of his dress, his feet were bare.  

‘God, he’s gorgeous.’  Buffy almost fainted with the wave of lust that rushed over her.  Somehow, the bare feet tipped his appearance over from ‘hot’ into ‘if-I-don’t-have-you-this-second-I’ll-die’ and she was having difficulty breathing.  She stared, mesmerised, as his pale hand reached out from the shadows, palm upwards and gesturing for her to take it.  Her feet moved forwards, hand resting in his as she crossed the threshold and into his arms.  

His kiss was whisper soft against her lips, teeth nibbling gently on her sensitive flesh as her body moulded to his and her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him even closer.  Spike’s hands wandered up and down her back as the kiss deepened, cool fingers tangling in curled blonde hair and bunching up the skimpy red material across her bare back.  Stepping back reluctantly to allow her to breathe, Spike drew her further into the crypt guiding her as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.  

Buffy’s astonished face thrilled Spike.  She looked so happy, stunned by his efforts.  He felt a surge of warmth deep inside him, like a kick-start to his long dead heart.  He ached with the love of her. 

His rich velvet voice echoed around the crypt. “Happy Birthday, Buffy.” 

“Spike…this is………beautiful.  How did you…?” 

“Just a bit of sparkle and paper, love.  Thought we’d break the Buffy birthday tradition, maybe make it through without the angst and tears for once.  You up for that?” 

Buffy smiled, took a step towards him.  “Absolutely.  We’ll give it our best shot.  And thank you, for doing this.” 

Spike narrowed the distance between them, deep blue eyes swimming with love and awe that this woman would let him hold her, touch her.  Love her.  And she would, right?  She had to. 

“Anything for you, Buffy, you know that.  Drink?” 

He led her over to the couch, seating her before moving over to the fridge.  Buffy was shaking her head, about to decline his offer on the grounds that Buffy and beer were unmixy in the extreme.  But he started prowling towards her with a bottle of champagne in one hand, two champagne flutes in the other.  

“That would be lovely,” she breathed.  

Spike detoured slightly to turn on the CD player, the crypt now filled with sweet and low blues music as he reached her side.  He handed her a glass and filled it with bubbly goodness then filled the other one for himself.  He sat down next to her, holding her gaze with his own as they drank the champagne slowly, letting the bubbles tingle the inside of their mouths.  As Buffy reached the end of her glass, Spike took it and put both glasses on the floor and rising to his feet, once again held out his hand. 

“Dance with me?” 

Buffy found herself standing, placing her hand in his and being pulled firmly into his arms.  She was moving as if in a dream, powerless to resist every suggestion he made and melting into his arms.  The soft beat of the music surrounded them as they swayed, hip touching hip, Buffy’s arms draped around Spike’s neck, his hands pulling her closer where they rested on her back.  He nuzzled her hair, inhaling her familiar scent and whispering her name in awe.  

Eventually the song stopped and Buffy looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears.  “Thank you, Spike.  I mean it.  It’s just perfect.” 

Spike leant down, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.  Hardly moving away, he whispered, “More to come yet, Buffy.” 

He released her from his embrace and led her towards the lower cavern, going backwards down the ladder so that he could continue to look at her and hold her hand as she descended.  When she got to the bottom he stopped her, reaching behind her to snag the black satin blindfold he’d placed there earlier and went to cover her eyes.  Buffy protested, but he smothered her words with another kiss, soothing her panic.  

“Hush now, love.  It’ll be worth it, I promise.  It’s a surprise.” 

She let him tie the blindfold and waited, skin tingling with anticipation when he moved away from her.  Every sound in the cavern was intensified; she could even hear the whoosh as he lit candles.  And water? 

Footsteps came near and then she felt his hands on her, leading her gently forwards.  The music from upstairs could still be heard, albeit very faintly, and it echoed softly round the room lending an otherworldly quality to her surroundings.  Spike halted, letting go of her hand and moving to stand behind her.  Buffy felt the cool caress of his breath on the back of her neck, the sweep of his fingers as he unpinned her hair to let it fall in golden waves across her shoulders.  The ghost of a kiss on her neck had her shivering and gasping his name. 

Gently, Spike undid the halter tie to her dress and the wisp of material slipped off her shoulders to hang at her waist.  Buffy held her breath, her naked breasts quivering with every beat of her racing heart.  Her legs were nudged apart by his knee, cool fingers dancing up her thighs to the gauzy lace of her panties which he tugged at ever so slowly, drawing the wisp of fabric down her thighs to her knees where he let go, Buffy instinctively stepping out of them and spreading her legs even further.  She felt Spike move away from her and muffled a moan of anguish at the loss. 

“Patience, birthday girl.  Have I ever let you down?” 

Buffy stored that one away for a less lust-filled mind to consider.  But no, he never, ever had.  And she knew he never, ever would. 

But right now, with the throb between her legs demanding completion, she simply keened his name. 

“Spike, please….” 

The scent of magnolias perfumed the air and Spike was behind her again tugging the dress down past her hips and lifting her feet to rid her of it.  While he was down there he undid the stiletto heeled sandals and ran his fingers back up the inside of her legs, her thighs, whispering a teasing touch across her damp curls that set her skin on fire.  The tug on her hand had her turning to follow his direction, stumbling on the uneven floor as she struggled with her blindfold. 

“No, Buffy – keep it on…” the cool breath stirred the tendrils of her hair and made her shiver. She obeyed, helpless but to follow his every suggestion and desperate for the fulfilment his words promised. 

Spike stopped and suddenly swept Buffy up into his arms, cradling her against him, loving the feel of her and the scent that wafted over him – vanilla, musk, Buffy.  He moved forward and bent at the waist - - - laughing as Buffy squealed when her feet then her butt came into contact with the warm water in the old-fashioned, claw-footed bath tub he’d ‘liberated’ at a knock down price from a demon that owed him a favour.  

“Spike!  What is this?  Let me see…….please!” 

Buffy was already impatiently plucking at the blindfold and as he didn’t stop her she tugged it over her head, eyes wide and blinking as she adjusted to the candlelight and took in the soap bubbles, the rose petals, the bottle of champagne with two glasses that matched the one from upstairs.  She smiled, giggling with delight as the warmth of the water seeped into her bones.  Turning her head to the left she splashed to the side of the tub so that her face was on a level with Spike where he knelt watching her with burning eyes.  A dripping hand found its way out of the water to cup Spike’s face reverently as Buffy fixed her gaze on his sultry blue eyes. 

“You did all of this…..for me?” 

“All for you, love.  You deserve it. Thought for once you should have something nice to remember your birthday by.” 

Buffy kissed him, her tongue sliding inside his mouth fleetingly and leaving him wanting as she pulled back. 

“Oh, I think I’m going to remember this for a very long time.”  She lay back, luxuriating in the warmth and the aromatic steam that rose from the tub.  She closed her eyes, the smile fixed on her face. 

Spike couldn’t stop looking at her.  She was swishing her fingers happily snagging a petal or two as she went.  Every now and then she would shift slightly and her submerged nipples would peek out of the water, hardening on contact with the cool air.  Spike’s mouth watered with the need of tasting them.  The dark curls at the apex of her thighs were teasingly obscured by the rippling liquid but as she wriggled he got tantalising glimpses of her golden flesh and the promise of pleasure.  

Shaking his head, he snapped himself out of his awestruck stupor and reached across the tub to grab the sponge and soap he’d laid there.  He dipped his hands below the water wetting the sponge and lathering it up, cursing when he’d forgotten he was wearing the tuxedo jacket that was now soaked halfway up the arms.  He looked up to see burning hazel eyes, hooded by half-closed lids, and Buffy’s face sprinkled with water droplets.  

“Take it all off, Spike” she whispered huskily.  “I want to see you naked and wet.  And it is my birthday…..” 

Spike chuckled as he got to his feet to obey her command.  “That it is, pet.  And what the birthday girl wants…..” 

It was Buffy’s turn to be mesmerised as he stripped, slowly, seductively – his eyes never leaving hers.  The wet jacket hit the floor with a slap followed by the sinuous sound of a silk bow tie being dragged across Spike’s collar and off.  Buffy watched his fingers hungrily as the black satin slipped through them, imagining the feel of those clever digits on her flesh.  The tie fell to the floor with a soft whoosh as Spike opened his hands theatrically.  Goosebumps raced across Buffy’s skin despite the heat of the water.  She shivered in anticipation. 

Buffy matched every pop of the shirt buttons with a tiny gasp, her tongue flicking out to moisten her dry lips as his alabaster chest and abdomen were bared.  Spike prolonged her agony though, building the moment like a true professional and clasping the material of the shirt together until he knew he had her full attention.  When Buffy shifted in the water as if to pounce him, he owned the moment – throwing open his arms to rip the shirt in two and drop it in tatters to the floor.  His head was thrown back, arms thrust out to the side palms facing out; his pale skin gleamed in the candlelight and his pelvis was tilted forwards, his erection clearly outlined by the tight suit pants. 

Buffy whimpered.  ‘Please God, don’t let this be another Buffy Birthday – just let me have this one be perfect and you can take all the rest.’ 

Time seemed to stop until Spike lowered his smouldering eyes to rake over her panting body.  She greedily followed the movement of his hands as the waistband of his trousers was undone…………then the zip……..the rasp of the metal runner speeding up her pulse to almost painful intensity.  Once again, Spike kept her hanging while he sought her attention – his hands covered the gap where the zip was lowered, save for a few curls that peeped around his fingers. 

Buffy splashed around in the water until she was kneeling up, chin resting on her crossed arms on the side of the bath.  She wanted to be nearer to him.  She could almost touch him if only he’d just………. 

Spike took a step back. He loved the look she had on her face right now; eager, burning, aching to touch him.  He’d never dreamt she’d be so open with him but wasn’t going to risk spoiling the moment by saying anything.  Maybe tonight she’d tell him… 

“Spike…” she breathed, the word almost unintelligible and ending on a pleading note. 

“Want something, pet?”  His husky tones melted into the darkness. 

Buffy reached out her hand, fingers spasming open and closed as she tried to grab the trousers and rip them off.  “Gimme!” 

“Ah, ah, ah!  No snatching or there’ll be no present for Buffy.” 

And then there was the pout…… 

It was Spike’s turn to stifle a groan; no matter what she was saying or doing, how badly she was treating him, the minute that lip jutted out he was lost.  She could have anything she wanted.  Especially when the anything she wanted was him…. 

Never one for self-denial, Spike removed his hands from his crotch and quickly shucked the trousers off.  Commando as always, his hard cock jutted from the dark curls that caressed it drawing Buffy’s eyes and a whimper of need. 

Spike stroked himself lazily as he stalked towards the bathtub.  Naked and wet, eh?  Not a problem.  What Buffy wanted, Buffy got.  He stopped when he reached the tub, Buffy still leaning up on her folded arms, her eyes glazed with lust.  Slowly she reached out a hand and gripped his erection, the heat of her flesh searing him where her fingers slid along his length.  His hips leaned towards her, his own hands busying themselves with mussing his curls in an effort to forestall the urge to haul her out of the water and fuck her on the floor.  This was Buffy’s night and he wanted to go at her pace.  The demon screamed its rage inside him. 

“Care to join me?” Buffy whispered huskily as she scuttled backwards and made room for him in the tub.  Spike needed no further invitation, throwing a muscled leg over the rolled edge of the bath and slipping into the scented water, kneeling up and facing Buffy as she rested back.  He edged forward until he was settled between her legs, feeling the taut muscles of her thighs as she wrapped them around his hips.  Felt like his bloody birthday! 

“Kiss me, Spike,” she whispered, the husky tones a telltale sign of her desire.  Spike moved closer, ever closer, until his lips were almost on hers and he felt her warm breath when she gasped, anticipating the touch of his mouth and his tongue.  

“Make a wish, Birthday Girl.” 

“No need…I’ve got everything I want right here.” 

Warm, wet arms slithered around his neck and pulled him closer so that their lips met, Buffy’s tongue teasing at the corner of his mouth before sliding inside to caress his sensitive teeth and gums.  She sucked his tongue into her own mouth and stroked it with hers.  The question forming in Spike’s mind prompted by Buffy’s declaration was lost as his capacity for rational thought evaporated, his every sensation focused on the moment; her body, her lips, her scent.  

Spike’s cock nudged at her wet folds as his hips settled against her, the water lapping around them gently.  Buffy tilted her groin forward as if to grab him.  She was done with being delicate; she wanted him inside her and she wanted him now.

Spike teased her, moving away again and grinning; the grin disappeared as Buffy linked her ankles behind his back and used her superior strength to pull him fully against her.  His length slid inside her slickly, the water and Buffy’s own juices easing him inside.  The water was warm….but Buffy’s pussy was warmer. 

He gave up any pretence at delicacy, gripping her shoulders and pulling her hard against him.  The water slopped around them as he moved his hips, the sound of it lapping and splashing against the tub mingling with the moans and guttural growls that slipped from Buffy’s lips.  Faster and faster he moved, unable to hold back the building climax and not wanting to.  He bent his head to her neck, the scent of her warm, wet skin playing havoc with his enhanced senses and bringing his demon to the fore.  Fangs pierced her neck, Spike’s cool tongue soothing the stinging wound as he drank her precious blood down his dry throat. 

“Spike!”  Buffy’s scream ricocheted off the walls.  He’d bitten her!  God, it felt so good. 

The overload on her senses was too much, Buffy’s body bucking against Spike’s as he held her captive against the porcelain.  Her fingernails dug into the skin of his back, drawing blood in retribution for the loss of her own.  But she didn’t begrudge the feeding, welcomed it in fact as it throbbed a promise of completion in her sex.  

A rough sweep of Spike’s tongue across her sensitised skin coupled with his cock filling her pussy and she was done.  Ripples of sensation flooded her passage and she gripped him mercilessly with her thighs, her inner muscles, her scrabbling fingers as she cried out his name.  

The water sloshed around their bucking bodies and flooded over the side, snuffing out several candles as it did.  Spike continued his thrusts, arching his back and ripping his fangs from Buffy’s throat so that he could growl out a string of guttural sounds.  He fell forward to nuzzle at her neck and lick the puncture holes closed, all the time growling his satisfaction.  The noise hit Buffy right in the pleasure centre. 

When she could speak, she shoved Spike up and away from her so that she could see his eyes.  Strangely, she didn’t really mind whether those eyes were blue or golden, so long as they were Spike’s eyes.  They were golden. 

“Hey, mister, how come you’ve been holding out on me?  In all the times we’ve…you know…..you never once did that sexy growl thing?  And the biting?  What have I been missing….That a special for my birthday?  Because I’ve got to tell you…WROAAAAR!” 

Spike chuckled round his fangs, the demon finally retreating – satiated and smug – leaving him wide-eyed and with all his love and adoration showing on his face.  He panted, mouth open, and watched her warily. 

“Too much?”  He didn’t know why he’d let the demon control him; if he’d bloody blown it with his need to taste her he’d…. 

“Oh no, definitely not.”  Buffy cupped his cheek tenderly and held his gaze.  “I liked it. Honestly.  I can’t believe you went to all this trouble just for me.  But thank you.  I don’t deserve you.” 

“No, Buffy – it’s…” 

“No!  I won’t have you brushing this off.  You always go the extra mile for me and mine and all I’ve been is selfish and stupid.  Dawn’s right.  I need to tell you something, Spike.   It’s not easy for me because – well, because I’m me – but I need to tell you anyway.  I care for you; I do.” 

Spike stifled the disappointment he felt.  She cared for him.  It would do.  It was better than kicking him in the head and leaving.  He reached for her to pull her close – his face clouding with hurt when she pushed him away. 

“Oh! Damn!  Why can’t I…right; this is it.  Spike.  I…..I love you.” 

The words out, Buffy breathed hard, her face split by a beatific smile.  She felt free and whole, giddy with the relief of admitting her feelings first to herself and secondly to Spike. 

Spike, for his part, had no words.  He stared at her like an idiot, mouth open and jaw slack.  

Buffy shifted nervously.  Didn’t he want her?  Was it too much?  Had the Buffy Birthday Curse hit again? 

“Well…say something!  Kinda out on a limb here, Spike.” 

Spike crushed her to him in a whoosh of movement, water once again spilling over the sides.  She could barely hear him at first as he peppered her face, her neck and shoulders, her hair, with kisses – but each kiss was punctuated by three words: “I love you.” 

+++ 

It was a wrench to leave the sanctuary of the water but Buffy had things she wanted to do.  Dressing was tricky as it meant that they had to let go of each other, but they did manage it eventually.  Spike’s eyes burned through the flimsy material of her dress and as a precaution Buffy insisted that he didn’t put the tuxedo back on or she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.  Of course, that meant that Spike reached for the suit immediately, prompting a chase through the crypt that resulted in Buffy having to get dressed yet again an hour later. 

Finally, Spike was clad in his customary black jeans and t-shirt, his duster shrugged on as they left and sauntered through the graveyard hand in hand.  They made their way over to Revello in companionable silence, Spike still marvelling at the ease with which Buffy walked at his side, swinging their linked hands and giggling, looking happier than he’d seen her in so long that it made his heart swell with pride at having something to do with it. 

Then they were there.  The door loomed in front of them.  He gave her one last chance. 

“Buffy, love; this has been magical for me.  I don’t need your friends’ approval; I just need yours.  I’ll leave you to your partying; let you spend time with the people who love you, yeah?”  He dropped her hand and bowed his head anticipating a swift acceptance of his offer to slink away. 

The door opened bathing him in light and he was amazed to find himself tugged along by the sleeve of his duster.  “Not so fast, mister.  You think you can get out of your boyfriendly duties that easily?  Nuh huh – get in here and fetch me nibbles – and try not to trip over Xander’s bottom lip when it drops.” 

The door closed behind him, Dawn’s excited squeal echoing round the hallway as she launched herself at her sister and her friend.  

“Good birthday, Buffy?” 

She smiled at Dawn, took in the shocked faces of her friends ranged behind her sister in the doorway to the dining room, and deliberately switched her gaze to Spike’s anxious face.  She wrapped her arms around her lover, kissing him soft, sweet, and long, revelling in the taste of his lips on hers. 

“Best birthday, Dawn.  Best birthday ever.”

FINIS