Chapter 32:

Many thanks to my darling beta Megan *hugs*

“She’s clomping up the stairs, should I make myself scarce so you can fight and fornicate. Or is it fornicate and fight? I can never tell with vamps.” Anya quickly began to pack her manicure box up and adjusted the hot pink toe separators and then waddled down the balcony with a small wave.

“Spike, be nice to her. I am tired of angst. It’s about time someone around here got some good orgasms.” She giggled and disappeared into her room.

“Seriously luv, you really are strange girl.” Spike laughed as he shook his head at the two fingers Anya waved at him as she disappeared into her suite. He reached over and scribbled a note for Buffy and then stuck it to the door.

He was filled with nerves. Trusting in the Poof was something that didn’t come easy, and he had to applaud Joyce for her subtle form of revenge on the broody nit. But it was a risky gamble. He was worried that whatever the schmuck had said might have her running for the hills.

But he trusted Joyce.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out onto the balcony and waited for her.

Buffy's determination to sort things out with Spike lasted as far as the top of the stairs. Fantastic! And typical. She froze at the sight of his suite door, realising that he was on the other side, waiting for her. The back of her neck began to tingle. His signature was ratcheting up, tiny tugs of arousal pulled at her stomach, making her entire body shiver. Her breasts swelled and her body hummed in anticipation of the reunion. .

Taking a deep breath she gathered her courage and trotted to his door. Reaching for the handle she froze. There was piece of paper stuck to the door with her name on it. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the crisply folded paper.


Love,

I thought it’d be better we met somewhere else, to chat it all out…

Some how I can’t see ‘desperate for a shag’ would appreciate hearing you scream your brains out.

Follow your nose, Childe.

Yours Always,

William


Buffy's wavering spirit solidified and she took a deep breath, a broad smile pasted itself across her face. Clutching the note to her unbeating heart she sniffed the air; he was on the move. Running down the corridor parallel with her sire as he strode along the balcony, she smirked. The thrill of the chase was building within her, then suddenly his scent shifted and disappeared. Buffy frowned and extended her senses; he'd leapt down and was waiting on the sidewalk for her. She stopped briefly to hide the book Angel had given her in her rucksack and lovingly tucked his note in between the pages.

"Buffy?" Dawn's sleepy voice startled her.

Buffy peeked over at her sister, who was curled up next to their mom. "Shh. Go back to sleep, Dawnie. It's okay." She straightened and shot a small smile at her sleepy sister. Pulling out her leather skirt and a tank top, the diminutive Slayer wriggled into her clothes and then zipped up her black patent leather high-heeled boots.

"Here." Dawn appeared next to her sister and handed her some lip-gloss. Buffy quickly applied it as her sister brushed the knots out of her hair. "Do you want it up or down?" Dawn asked as she ran her fingers through the long locks. "I vote for down. You know how he loves your hair." Dawn smiled, proud of herself for not feeling the weeniest bit jealous over Spike and her sister.

"What do you think, Dawnie?" Buffy asked quietly, stunned that her usually hormonal sister was acting calmly and helping her out.

Dawn fluffed the blonde curls with her hands. "Down. It looks cute like this." She slipped a thin baby pink ribbon around Buffy's head and tied it in a small bow at the nape of her neck. "They’re pretty yet functional." She reached over and pulled a few wisps free to frame her sister's heart-shaped face. "Now Buffy, don't mess this up. Everyone has been working overtime to get you guys back together."

Buffy stared into her baby sister's big blue eyes and then gave her slightly taller sibling a quick hug. "I won't. Love you, Dawnie."

"Pish...now go get your vamp." Dawn pushed Buffy towards the French windows that lead to the balcony.

She disappeared out through the open doors and onto the balcony, her hazel eyes scanning the darkened street for a flash of platinum blond hair. She let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a meep, when in the distance she saw her sire striding towards a derelict building, dragging what looked like a mattress with him.

Swinging herself over the railing, Buffy leapt after him.

**********

Angel surged into Darla wetness; his hips moved jack rabbit fast, pumping away as fast as his body could move. He was entirely and selfishly focussed only on his own satisfaction. He held her hands above her head with one of his meaty fists, the other hand wrapped around Darla's throat, giving it a squeeze every time she tried to speak.

"Don't speak," he growled as his hips hammered into her over and over. He didn't want her squeaky voice shattering the illusion that he was making love with Buffy. Slamming his eyes shut, Angel's mind was filled with images of Buffy. He moaned happily and felt his cock twitch in excitement.

Darla growled at Angel and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. She'd forgotten what a sloppy lover he was, when he was actually conscious and not in a drug induced passion. She flexed her internal muscles experimentally, trying to get some sensation from his less than impressive erection. 'I miss the Master...' she pondered wistfully, recalling the long days and nights of ultimate pleasure with her sire, his large cock filling her unlike any other.

Gritting her teeth, the small blonde rubbed her breasts against Angel's chest, hoping for some kind of stimulation. She was very...very disappointed in her childe. Angel had forgotten all her lessons in how to take care of a woman. Sighing, Darla turned her head and stared at the door, her soft breasts juddering in time to Angel's thrusts and wondered where Dru was. She sighed. At least Dru knew how to take care of her needs. The silent vampire raised her legs. Peering over Angel's hulking shoulder she examined her toenails. Eyeing her chipped big toenail, Darla pondered whether she'd have time to get a pedicure soon.

Angel kept the image of Buffy in his mind, trying to pretend that the woman's body below him wasn't his sire's but instead his lost love's. He knew that this was the only way he'd be free, if he achieved ultimate happiness.

Darla bit her lip to stop herself from groaning in pain; she was starting to get lino burn on her ass cheeks from the speed in which Angel was pumping into her. She wished he'd get his happy and ditch the goddamned soul. Then she would chain Angelus up and remind him that his satisfaction came second to hers.Also she wanted to retrain him in the art of sex and remind him where her clit was.

*********

Buffy landed lightly on the balls of her feet and then sprinted off in the direction she had last seen Spike heading. Her golden hair streaming behind her as she ran towards the building he had disappeared into.

Sliding to a halt she swung through the door and slammed it shut behind her. Vamping out, Buffy scanned the room. It was a crumbling mess, plaster missing from the walls and the floorboards where gaping here and there. Her lavender coloured eyes easily picked out the safest route to traverse the floor. Tiptoeing carefully over the holes, she moved to the centre of the ground floor of the dust filled building. Extending her senses she tried to pinpoint the location of her sire.

"Spike?" Her whispered call shattered the peace of the building. "Where are you?" Buffy called out, inhaled a mouth full of dust and sneezed loudly.

"Well...what a pretty lil' morsel. Have you been a good girl and listened too your Elders?" Spike's voiced echoed from the gallery that ran along the end of the massive room. His loud voice disturbed some pigeons from their rest. They flew up and out of a large hole in the roof, their wings flapping loudly as the squawked their disapproval for being disturbed.

"Spike?" She turned to face the direction his rough voice had come from. But he wasn't there.

"Well, little girl?"

Buffy spun to her left, her eyes peering into the gloom, trying to locate him. She could sense his anger at being forced to wait. Forced to leave everything in his cack-handed grandsire's hands. He was a vamp of action and deeds and to be forced to wait must have been agony.

"Spike, quit playing. We need to talk." She growled and stomped her foot. She was starting to worry. He was playing some weird ass game with her and she didn't get it.

"Never been one for games when it came to matters of the heart, love." His disembodied voice echoed around her. It was filled with a poignancy that filled Buffy's eyes with tears. He sounded so insecure and hurt, and it was her fault that pain was in his voice. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and tried to stop herself from sobbing out loud. She'd done this to him, with her pushy ‘bite now, ask questions later.’

"Here now, none of that sweetness," Spike whispered. He appeared at the broken railing of the gallery and stared down at his weeping childe. He leapt down onto the top of the crates that he'd climbed earlier, and with a series of loose-limbed jumps he began to leap from box to box, making his way down to her. His duster flared up dramatically with the impact of his doc-clad feet on the boxes. Rolling his shoulders, Spike slinked his way towards her.

Buffy stood immobile, unsure as to what to do. She clutched her arms around her waist, steadying herself in the maelstrom of emotions that were buffeting her. She was confused and lonely. The talk with Angel was still fresh in her mind and despite her bravado, she was confused about Spike. Also, the book had filled her mind with images of raw sex, blood and biting and her demon was pushing at her to let it come out and play. But after her last attempt she was feeling inhibited, worried that she'd get it wrong again and Spike would leave her, just like every man she loved or was intimate with.

"Open those pretty peepers of yours, pet." Spike's hand cupped her stubborn little chin and tipped her head back. His azure eyes searched her scrunched up face worriedly. "Come on, love," he cajoled when she screwed her eyes shut even more. If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation he would be smiling at her antics.

Buffy shook her head.

"Look at me." Spike rubbed her thumb over her lower lip, trying to coax her out from hiding.

"Spike, just wait, lemme say this," Buffy muttered.

Spike stepped away from her frozen form; his hand cupped her cheek briefly and then he crossed his arms. "Right then."

Buffy peeked out from under her lashes at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered dejectedly. "I messed it up...I messed everything up. I'm so sorry. I was wrong to try and do the, you know, it was a big mistake." She gestured to his neck.

Spike's stomached dropped at her words; she was sorry she'd tried. Thought it was all a mistake. He ground his teeth together, his actions causing his cheekbones to sit out in relief against his pale skin. "Right...well, I'll be off then." He whirled to leave only to be stopped by a small tug on his elbow.

Buffy's fingers latched onto the worn leather and clung on with all her might. "Don't …I love you, Spike...Please, god, don't break me by leaving…I co...co...couldn't cope. I love you with all my soul, Spike." Her stomach dropped and she began to shake. There, she'd finally said it. Laid herself open to him. She gulped hard, trying to dislodge her heart, which had leapt into her throat with her stuttered admission. Buffy firmed her lower lip into a determine pout and waited for a bolt of lightning or a plague of locusts to descend on her. She'd admitted to loving him and now she knew there'd be a backlash.

Spike froze in place at her panicked admission. He could feel her fingers gripping desperately at his elbow. He could scent her fear at his leaving her, it was pouring off her small frame in waves. His eyes flickered amber at the taste of her fear. But something overrode the demon within. His inner William surged to the fore. She had done what no other woman in his life and un-life had ever done. Declared her absolute love for him. Spike, William the Bloody awful poet was loved! He wanted to howl it to the moon.

The light of his unlife loved him, no one else, just him. He wasn't second best in her estimations, unlike his sire. Buffy the Vampire Slayer loved him, one quarter of the Scourge of Europe. Buffy's impassion plea loosened the coil of despair and doubt that was wound tight around his heart.

There was a harsh grating noise as he turned on his heel to face her.

Spike's face filled with hope. "What did you say, love?" His hands fisted in the pockets of his duster. If he could've, he would be sweating bullets as he waited for her sweet mouth to say the words again. Spike cocked his head to one side and waited anxiously-- he needed to see her as she said it. His heart was too battered; the eternal optimist within him was huddled under his metaphorical duster and shivering. Beaten down by Cecily, Dru, Angelus and his childe.

Buffy remembered something Whistler had mentioned, something about the big moments and not being able to help them, but it was what came after that was what counted. She took a breath. This was a big moment and it was one that she could help, and also what came afterwards would be momentous if they allowed themselves to be happy.

She reached over and pulled his fisted hands out of his pockets and brought them to her lips. Brushing soft kisses over them she kept eye contact with him.

Spike stared down at her as she kissed his knuckles. Tension slowly seeping out of his body with each brush of her soft lips: the confusion, hurt and anger slowly was replaced with hope, happiness and love.

She pulled away from his now lax hands and pressed them to her heart. Spike leaned in as Buffy’s pouting lips opened, his eyes riveted to their pink plumpness. If his heart could beat it would be bursting out of his chest.

This was it.

He stared at her soft lips as they began to move.

*****

"Yes…Yes…uhhhh." Angel bellowed as he spilled himself into Darla's frustrated depths. With a goofy smile he slumped onto her small form and began to snore.

"Angelus...get off me!" Darla gasped as she wriggled out from under him, not
even noticing when his limp cock slipped out from her.

She shoved him onto his side and eyed his snoring face with contempt. "Hope this worked, I am not doing that again," she muttered sulkily as her fingers trailed down to her cleft and began to rub her clit.

Angel snorted in his sleep and rolled onto his back and stretched out, one hand scratching at his stomach as a small river of drool escaped his mouth and ran down his cheek.

Darla wrinkled her nose and rolled onto her side, firmly placing her back to the lump slumped beside her. She rubbed her fingers furiously over her nubbin and finally sighed in release.

Flipping over onto her back, Darla propped herself up on her elbows, watching and waiting for her darling boy to come back to her.

It was about time. She was bored with the do-gooder with the whiney soul. She wanted her restored childe at her side when she and Dru tortured the turned Slayer before dusting her. She had been practising on minions trying to work out how long a vamp could be hurt before it dusted.

And she had learnt one thing.

Buffy would be screaming for a very long time before she died.

A/N I do hope that everyone enjoyed - would love to hear what you thought?

Chapter 33:

Tam, the mini Angel and Darla scene is for you *winks*

As always thank you Megan for the betaing magic!

“I love you… Oh, how I adore you...everything about you is pure perfection”

Glory glanced over her shoulder and grimaced and the fawning walking wart that was currently French kissing the floor where she had walked on. “Jinxy, this one is really bugging the hell out of me! Kill him.” She flicked her curly hair over her shoulder and turned back to the full-length mirror.

The grovelling minion dared a quick look at his divinity. “Oh, let me let me let me do it! If it pleases you, oh radiant one, I will throw myself from the window.”

Glory turned to face the brownnoser. “Sure, but make it quick. I want to get my hair done.” She looked over her shoulder at her back and her jaw dropped. Ignoring completely the small brown robed blur as it dashed past her and out of the window with a happy squeal.

“Jinx, does my ass look lopsided to you?” Glory shrieked as she patted her backside with both hands, whirling around and craning her neck trying to catch sight of her posterior, totally ignoring the loud squishy splat as her admirer became intimately acquainted with the ground outside.

“Oh no, mistress of my heart and damned soul…your buttocks are perky and luscious…a perfect peach and I would just love to have a bite of them,” Jinx lied as he stared at lopsided lower globes of his goddess.

“Yuh.” Glory waved her hands at Jinx. “Duh, as if anything on my body would be less than perfection…”

Jinx stared at the afore-mentioned body part and wondered if there was something that could be done with the hem length of her skirts to cover the way it rode up on one side. He would make an appointment with a seamstress and see what could be done about it. That way she’d never notice again that she was less than perfect.

“Have that idiot Dracula send someone up to fix the window. You’d think the idiot would’ve thought to open it before jumping.” Glory shook her head and trotted to her walk-in closet.

Jinx nodded and began to back towards the door, followed closely by the rest of Glory’s remaining worshippers.

“Oh, and Jinxy…tell him to kill the Watcher and bring me that new girl that has been hanging around with that freak of a Slayer.” Glory checked her lipstick absently as she handed down a death sentence for Giles. “Well, don’t just stand there…snap to it…I’m sick of waiting. It’s time to get my Key and head for home.”

“As you wish, my most stupendous one.” Jinx clapped his hands and then scurried out of the room.

******

Darla edged away slightly from Angel's supine form with the warm draft of air that he had emitted, causing her face to scrunch up into a moue of disgust. She had forgotten about that-- something that she and Angelus had joked was a left over from his mortal cabbage eating days. She rolled onto her side and grimaced at the hard floor. 'So much for romance and treating a girl right,' Darla scoffed.

She stared sightlessly at the wall, wondering why there was a 1940s map of LA tacked up and, as she mentally picked out various hunting grounds from back in the day, she began to doze off. Her last thought on the massacre she and Luke had participated in on Sunset Boulevard, they'd both snuck out of Sunnydale for the weekend, tired of the Master's constant moaning and complaining over being stuck in the Hellmouth. She'd warned him not to do it, but no, he had tried to do the ritual anyway and there he’d remained, stuck like a cork in the mouth of hell.

His loyal followers had remained by his side and pandered to his every demanding need. She and Luke was the most senior of his court, but even they had needed a break from his capricious demands and needs. So the bight lights of Hollywood had called them, a siren's call to all the beautiful people ready to play with. And how they had played. The two elder Aurelians had painted the town red with the blood of the innocent-- and the not so innocent-- turning a few more minions to take back home to the Master to keep him entertained.

She missed those days; everything had seemed so much easier, less complicated and there had definitely been no annoying little Slayer to drive her demented. Darla's sleepy eyes shot open as a blast of warm air caught her on the ass. She shuddered and sat up, pulling her dress down over her thighs, ignoring the stream of sticky cum that trailed down her thighs. Darla stared over at Angel who was curled up on his side snoring loudly. She was amazed that the other occupants of the hotel weren't wakened by his stentorian snores.

Darla grimaced and rubbed her hands between her legs, then she reached over and grabbed the remnants of his shirt and wiped herself clean with it. Casually she tossed the shredded and now stained silk over his head and stared down in disgust at her wrinkled and soiled red dress. Gone were the good old day when Angelus had finished seeing to her every need and whim in bed. He would clean her up using his tongue, just like she'd trained him. But this time he’d rolled off her, fallen asleep and started 'saluting the Queen', 'Guess familiarity really does breed contempt.'

Darla stared assesingly at the body she knew intimately, every inch. He'd gained weight-- something she had never though possible in a vampire-- but he was definitely bigger and had what suspiciously looked like the beginnings of a blood belly. As soon as Angelus woke she was putting him on a strict regime of sit ups and blood rationing. Darla frowned, wondering if the diet of pigs blood he stuck to religiously since getting that stinking soul shoved down his throat was the reason for him porking up. Well that wouldn't be a problem soon. Once her evil childe rejoined the fold, he would be on a nice diet of human blood. She couldn't work out why Spike stayed so lean and well formed, but Angel ended up piling on the pounds. And yet, she still wanted him by her side and in her bed, well at least for a while.

She sighed deeply, resisting the urge to kick him in his flatulent flabby ass. Instead she curled up in the desk chair and waited for her boy to return to her. The evil within her would not allow her to accept complicity in his being re-souled. Instead, her demon plotted how they would kill the Summers mother and child. She envisaged a scenario much like the Holtz one; mother drained and raped to death and the daughter turned and left to greet the Slayer and her toady William the bloody idiot. 'Always lead around by his dick, that one. Sees a pretty face and his backbone turns to jello.' She frowned, wondering why in all their years travelling together Spike had never made a pass at her.

Darla stared at Angel's snoring form; she wished he'd hurry up and wake up. She wanted to get back to Dru, have a bath and find a small child to torture and kill to make herself feel better.

*******

"Love you."

Dru carefully rearranged the folds on Miss Edith’s frock before leaning over and kissing the cold porcelain face, then the scion of the Aurelian clan. She placed her carefully on the bed; the blindfold had been pulled off so that the doll could help her insane owner see what was to come. Behind the raven-haired vampire, Lindsey watched from the door for a moment before shutting it and locking the madwoman in.

The mad vampire then whirled around, her long dark curls fanning around and coiling over her pale shoulder like snakes. She cackled. Her pale blue eyes focused on the ceiling as she let the visions flow into her raddled mind.

Raising her scarlet tipped fingers to her temples, Dru let her head rock from side to side as she watched the future unfold. A moue of discontent crossed her lips as some of it was not to her liking at all, and then other bits she saw were so delicious they made her quiver. Then she saw him, her darling boy, her Sweet William and her. Drusilla's face contorted with rage and jealousy. Her hand clawed and scrabbled at the air, as if attacking the nasty Slayer who took all her toys and broke them. But even in the midst of her insanity, the Aurelian vampire knew better than to confront the Slayer.

"No...noooo...mine, all mine and you dare to take him," she screamed. Her nails clawed at her face, causing rivulets of blood to seep down the doll-like face that enticed so many to their death on her fangs. Including the one that was utterly lost to her now. Even with the tendrils of madness that clung to her mind, Drusilla's intuition told her that it would be to no avail if she even attempted to sway him from his new path or even worse, from her side.

All those decades ago she had told him that he would walk in worlds others couldn't begin to imagine, and now here he was, taking those first tentative steps and not with her. Her Spike was finally fulfilling his destiny and walking away from the darkness that she had thrust upon his willing throat. Dru dropped to her knees with a howl. He was hers to play with and discard-- no one else's. And yet that whey faced Slayer had his heart and mind in the palm of her murderous hand. There was nothing she could do but leave Spike and his childe to their destiny.

"No one left for me. Grandmummy will be all round...smell fecund and love another ...Daddy...oh my precious daddy...hurry up and come home soon...miss you and need you...the lambkins have all gotten their tails and we must bash and crash to mend it to our will...Your little girl needs your touch, your whip...your hard cock and fangs to make her feel all full up and better." Drusilla muttered over and over under her breath, slowly plucking her fine hair from her head.

********

"Spike...I." Buffy stared up at his anxious face, his azure eyes seemed to pierce right through to her soul; their feverish intensity made her freeze. So much was hanging on these three words, the same words that whenever she uttered them to another man, they usually ended up leaving town and her. So she was utterly terrified about saying them to Spike, he was her everything.

Saviour, sinner, saint, family, lover, sire, friend and most of all, she suspected her soul mate. He was a curious amalgam of innocent boy and seasoned man. The intense vulnerability was obvious to whoever chose to really look, and she did choose. It may have taken her dying and being reborn as a vamp, but she saw who and what William the Bloody was.

And she loved it all. Everything about him-- the good and the bad.

And she had screwed it all up. Buffy took a deep breath and smiled up at Spike through watering eyes. Not realising that she had vamped out due to the intensity of her thoughts and feelings, her lavender eyes flashed at him. Absently worrying a fang with the tip of her tongue, Buffy reached up and caressed his angular face. She smiled slightly when he leant into her touch with a small sigh.

Spike stood there waiting. He was slightly surprised at his patience, but this was a pivotal moment in his un-life and it was time for quiet. Something that he abhorred; he was used to frenetic sounds and movements, anything to remind himself he wasn't totally dead.

He stared down at the small woman who had turned his entire existence on its axis and overwhelmed his body and mind with her sweetness and light. He could see she was struggling to understand all the vampiric frim-fram that they had gotten tangled up in and figured that Angel had probably copped out and given her a book to read. But as much as he wanted to help, to make this all go away, he was also determined not to be Love's Bitch anymore. If he gave in and let her off then their relationship would be weakened and he was determined that wouldn't happen. He had survived one weak relationship and never again. It was all or nothing for him this final time.

"Spike...William, I love you." There, she said it. Buffy watched the maelstrom of emotions that ran across his still face. Her lower lip caught between her fangs as she stared and waited for disaster to strike.

But it didn't.

Instead there was a croaky laugh that erupted from Spike's taut frame. It echoed through the abandoned building and disturbed the roosting pigeons. They fluttered around the nearly derelict dance hall, sending a shower of dust and feathers over them.

Buffy's eyes overflowed with the tears that had been lingering in them, great fat drops of water trailed down her cheeks and dropped unnoticed onto her skirt. He was laughing at her. Self-doubt swarmed to the fore and she took a tiny step back. Her head cocked to one side, wondering if this was a cosmic joke, she finally told the peroxided pain in her ass that she loved him and he laughed? At her? Why? Had all this been some cruel and elaborate plot to humiliate her?

Her hand flew to her mouth as if trying to catch the words she had willingly let lose. "Oh no." She stumbled away, absolutely terrified, humiliated and vulnerable.

Spike couldn't help himself, she had said it and meant it. No one had meant it since before he'd turned his old mum. A relieved laugh escaped his lips as sublime joy filled his entire being. Buffy Anne Summer, the Slayer and his precious childe loved him, no one else, him. His moment of pure joy was suddenly tempered by a wash of terror that flooded his psyche through the sire/childe bond.

"Wait...No!" He growled and grabbed hold of her shaking hands. "Slayer, love, what's wrong?" Spike's heart was in his throat. The tears she shed and the panic he had sensed through their bond made him fear that maybe she was already regretting saying it. But he was nothing if not stubborn and now she'd said the L word he was not letting her go, not ever.

"You laughed at me." Buffy wriggled her hands free and took a few steps away from Spike, her heart shattering with each tentative step. Her luminous eyes capturing his and pinning him with their vunerable intensity.

"Do wot?" Pure bewilderment coloured his countenance as he clung onto his struggling girl. Realisation dawned and Spike frowned. "Right, that's it!" he snarled and jerked Buffy over his shoulder in a fluid motion. "Am not putting up with the crossed wires and your proclivity towards angst and drama. Enough is enough." He punctuated this with a firm slap to her backside.

"Spike, lemme go!" Buffy exclaimed and wriggled like an eel trying to escape his firm hold.

"Don't make me put my claim bite on your arse, missy. Hold still," Spike growled as he paced the length of the room. Kicking open a door, he slammed it shut behind them and threw Buffy in the air with a flourish.

Buffy's stomach lurched at her unwilling airborne antics. She scrabbled at the air uselessly as she flew backwards in the darkness. Her eyes focused on the cocky vampire watching her. "Spike, ooff." Buffy grunted as she landed on the mattress that Spike had dragged with him from the hotel.

"Pretty as a picture, aren't you my love. All flustered and hair flying all over," Spike drawled as he shrugged out of his duster and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans. Curling his tongue behind his teeth, he watched as Buffy blew her hair out of her face and dashed the dampness from her cheeks. "Now, where were we?" He cocked his head and then gave her the most obnoxious smirk he had in his arsenal.

"Oh yeah, that's it. You just declared yourself." His cut glass accent completely belied his bad boy image and Buffy's eyes widened as he began to slink towards her. Confidence oozing from every delectable pore, he ghosted through the darkness. She was frozen in place, legs akimbo on the mattress, her hands propping her up and her mouth open.

Spike sank to his knees in between her open legs. Reaching up he grasped her hips and tugged her unresisting body towards him. "Now where to start?" He eyed her shirt with serious intent and then, before she could even blink, his hands had ripped if off her, revealing her pert lace covered breasts too his appreciative gaze. Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and stared nervously up at him, unsure of herself.

Spike mentally sighed at the big-eyed look she was giving him. He stared down into her lavender tinted eyes and resisted the urge to shake her fangs out of her thick skull. 'Best spell it out for her then, Spike m'boy.'

In that sensitive, rough timbre of voice that he accomplished so well, "Buffy, I love you."

A/N Well I guess the teasing with all the I Love You's was naughty? I couldn't resist sorry...

Wulfie more Angel bashing with a side order of humiliation for yah!

Hope everyone enjoyed I would love to hear what you thought?

Chapter 34:

Buffy lay there staring up at him, her full lips curved into a tremulous smile. All the icky angsty stuff out of the way, she was now waiting to see what her vampire was going to do to her first. She licked her lips and laid her hands coyly on her inner thighs, flexing her fingers in the supple leather of her skirt, which had bunched around her hips.

“Well then, what were we up to?” Spike curled his tongue against the back of his teeth and looked down at the luscious piece laid out before him, waiting to be devoured. All he got in response was a breathy giggle. “Right sweetness, guess it’s about time I had a look under the wrappings?”

Buffy stared up at him, her hair a tousled halo around her head. As she lay with her legs wrapped around his waist, her ankles locked in the small of his back and she undulated against him. Her big eyes were filled with laughter and excitement. She nodded and wriggled against Spike, hoping to entice him into stripping her naked and shagging until she couldn’t see straight. She threw her arms over her head and arched her back, hoping to add to his interest with a little show of her own. Her tight nipples pressing against the diaphanous lace camisole Dawn picked out for her to wear under her shirt, the same one that Spike had ripped off her. She made a mental note to take him shopping to replace all the underwear and shirts he shredded when he was trying to get to her.

“Nice skirt, luv,” Spike toyed with the wraparound leather skirt and then with a wicked grin, flipped it up and over her head, revealing her pale green lacy panties to his oh so appreciative gaze. “Love the knickers, Slayer, buuut you look much better without em on.” There was a ripping noise and Buffy sighed. And another pair bought the dust.

“Much better.”

Buffy squeaked as she felt Spike run a finger over her soaked curls and slip between her slick lips. She gripped hold of the mattress and moaned, her knuckles turning white as she tried to stop herself from pulling her skirt off her face. The scent of the black leather was infusing her senses and the lack of sight heightened the sensations that her Sire was wringing from her body. His dextrous fingers were busy between her legs, teasing and pulling at her soft skin. She felt weirdly safe in her cocoon and curled her toes waiting for her sire to decide where to play with next. She couldn’t help it; a giggle escaped her parted lips. After the grrr and angsty stuff, now they were together, happy and Spike was doing what he did best. Loving her.

“Think I’ll leave the boots on for now, Childe. Like the look.” Spike ran his hand up one leg and pulled it from around his waist and held it straight up. He pressed a kiss and a nip to the back of her knee and watched as she squirmed all over the bed. “Like that do you?” He laved the spot again and then pressed hot fevered kisses down her calf to the top of her black Suede boot. He purred at the sight of her wriggling around on him like a catfish on a pole. Her juices were beginning to drip between her legs and soak his jeans. He dropped her leg on his shoulder and shifted her hips slightly, opening her up to his appreciative gaze. His left hand slithered down her thigh and coasted into her wetness as his right hand anchored her leg to his shoulder.

“Look at you, all opened up and ready for me…” he crooned as his index finger circled her swollen nub and teased it gently. His fingers dipped between her swollen inner lips and then slid up and around her clit, anointing her with her juices.

“Spike…oh…please.” Buffy abandoned her silence as he played in her soft folds, gathering her moisture and painting it around her aching clit. Her hands gripped the mattress as she undulated her hips up and down, trying to get him to slip his finger into her.

Spike watched as she whimpered and smirked, he wanted to see her face all flushed and lust hazed. He made quick work of the skirt and tugged the bunched leather out from under her. “There’s my girl. Bite your lips for me, show me how my fingers make you feel…yeah tha’s it, my lush peach.” Spike purred as he watched the myriad emotions flutter across her face. She stared at him with big eyes, unwavering in her attention.

Buffy’s hand unclenched form the fabric and she trailed it up her lace-clad torso, her questing fingers finally locating their target. She bit her lower lip as she tugged on her nipples, her eyes silently begging him for more. Spike growled at the sight of her playing with her rosy tipped breasts and speared his fingers into her waiting depths. Curling them, he searched for the spongy bundle of nerves he knew his girl loved for him to play with.

“Oh!” Buffy screamed and threw her head back. “Missed this…missed you,” she panted as her slippery depths gripped his questing fingers like a glove. She threw her head back and moaned, her eyes turning lavender with passion as her fangs dropped. It had been too long and all her inhibitions decided it was a good time for a holiday. She growled at him and tilted her head back even more, offering her pale throat to her sire. “Love you, Spike. God I missed you,” she panted around her fangs.

“Shouldn’t have been such a moody mare now then, had you?” Spike cocked his head and watched his fingers slipping in and out of her swollen quim, her juices coating them. Her scent was all around them and his mouth watered and his fangs dropped slightly.

“Sod this. I need a taste…the smell of you is killing me.”

He flung her leg off his shoulder and pulled out his fingers. Spike ignored her moan at the loss and instead gripped her inner thighs and gently pushed them as far apart as she could go. “Pretty as a picture, sweetness.” Spike stared down at her laid open ready for his mouth-- and who was he to deny her. With a smile and a purr he swooped down and pressed a soft kiss on her quivering lips, his tongue curling down the sides of her passion-swollen inner lips and dipping into her clenching opening briefly, just to keep her on the edge.

With a happy sigh he turned his head and sought out the juice-slicked softness of her inner thighs, and with a purring growl, he vamped out and sank his fangs into her quivering flesh.

“Spiiike.” Buffy’s scream shook the rafters and a fine coating of dust floated down over the two lovers.
Her thighs clamped around his head, not wanting him to stop. He was back inside her and tasting her…it was all she wanted. Her fingers knotted themselves in his tousled curls as she rocked against his face, her soft flesh tearing around his fangs as he drank her.

His hands flexed on her waist and Spike sighed against her skin, slowly retracting his fangs from the plump flesh. He licked the wounds shut and pressed a kiss to the fang marks. “Lemme go, pet.” He gently pulled her thighs away from his head and silently thanked his maker for not needing to breath.

He opened his mouth to speak and was stopped with a kiss. Buffy lunged at him and wrapped her arms around his head and devoured his blood soaked lips with hers. She whispered sweet nothing against his mouth and sighed as his fingers returned to her cleft and gently tugged her downy curls. “Need inside you, love. Gonna lemme in, sweetness?”

Buffy reached between then and began to fumble with his belt buckle and the buttons of his jeans. “Off! Take it all off. I wanna see you,” she growled as she bit into his neck with a purr and let his blood seep from her mouth. She gave up with the jeans and ripped off his t-shirt, leaving Spike to wriggle out of them and kick them off as she kissed his nipples and ran her fangs around them, teasing them into firm peaks.

“Hey, not got many of those packed!” Spike grumbled.

“Could say the same about my panties, Spike.” Buffy grinned impishly and pushed down on his fingers as they slid into her soaked depths. “I…uh…expect, oh… to the left a bit. Shopping go…goodness as soon as we can. Oh god, that’s it, just there. Rodeo Drive, shops and pretties to make Buffy smile….Gah!” She shivered as Spike pressed his thumb firmly on her clit and held it there.

“No more knickers left…that’s good for me. Like the idea of you running around all bare and ready for me.” Spike pumped his fingers into her wetness and then pushed his thumb down hard. He watched as she came undone on his hand. “That’s it, lemme tend to you. You look so pretty all flushed and wriggling around on my fingers.” With his free hand he stroked her hair off her face, then wrapped it in his fingers and pulled her head back. He pressed a kiss on her open mouth and sucked her swollen lower lip into his mouth and nibbled on it.

Pulling away from her panting mouth, Spike stared at her; she was pure sin in that moment. Her legs splayed, his fingers buried in her depths, her breasts covered in lace and heaving with each unnecessary breath and her mouth swollen from his ardent kisses. The skin on her neck called to him. He looked down to where his hand was buried and smirked at the reddened bite mark he had left on her inner thigh. Blood seeped from the wound that he’d sealed with a kiss, anointing the back of his hand and wrist with her precious essence. Marking him as hers. He growled, undone by her, his debauched cherub.

Spike tugged her hair, forced her head back even more, and struck.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my god, that is disgusting!”

There was a click of a crossbow being armed, followed by two more.

“Are you freaking nuts?” Cordelia’s voiced shrilled. “Oh my god, cover it up…jeez, is that all there is?” she mocked, anger tinting her voice. “How could you, Angel?” she added forlornly, betrayal colouring her voice.

“Oh dear god, my eyes…Angel, are you insane? What on earth are you doing? Have you no concept of the danger you are placing us all in? What about your guests?” Wesley whimpered. The last thing he had expected to see on returning from a job was Angel stark naked with Darla sleeping next to him and the scent of sex heavy on the air. He thanked his lucky stars that at least his desk was untainted by their coupling; he didn’t think there was enough disinfectant to remove that from it.

“Don’t ask him that, man. If that’s Angelus, you know he’s gonna be an insane fucker,” Gunn’s deep voice intoned. His angry eyes never left the brunette vampire he had thought was a friend and also a fellow fighter. From where he stood, it looked like Angel had found the going too tough and had decided to opt out of the fight.

Angel lurched up with a gasp, his hand clawing at his throat and the other clutching his chest. He stared bemused at the brace of crossbows pointed at him and Darla. He mentally cringed, wondering if his unlife could get any worse.

‘Darla…oh shit, what have I done?’ He stared bemused at the audience surrounding him and then clapped his hand over his genitals, covering them easily. “Wait guys, no I’m not evil…” Forgetting momentarily, he held the same hand up to forestall any angry crossbow bolts and flashed the three horrified humans again. He frantically clapped his hand back down and winced as his balls quivered in pain from the slap he gave them. Groaning slightly, he willed the incipient erection away; he hated that his cock liked pain and perked up whenever it appeared on the horizon.

‘It was all her fault...’ He glared at Darla, hating her for everything. Most of all this minute, the fact that he was so well trained to love pain and revelled in the sexual torture that Darla’s very experienced hands had taught him. He hated her for not helping him lose his soul and getting him away from the pain of Buffy and Spike loving each other. He hated himself for being so weak and letting her seduce him. He hated her for letting them get caught by his friends—now they would think so little of him.

“No, you’re nuts…Eewwww, I can’t believe you touched that skank.” Cordelia stared at Angel in disgust. “I will never forgive you.” She pulled a face at the semi hard cock that Angel was covering with the palm of his hand. “Oh my god, I am gonna need therapy after seeing that.” She waved her crossbow at Angel’s crotch, the action making the souled vampire’s eyes widen with fear and take a step back. “You need to be dipped in disinfectant.”

“Now …children, play nice.” Darla’s sickly sweet voice belied the tension around her. She glanced spitefully at Cordelia. “Awww, is the little girl all jealous that her crush made love to me?” she purred while casually smoothing her hair, paying no heed to the three sets of male eyes straining to take in her naked breasts as the bobbled up and down.

Cordelia snorted and rolled her eyes, “Please…ego much?” She pinned Angel with a gimlet eye and then huffed loudly. “As if I’d let him touch me.” She tossed her head and pinned Darla with a malicious look, one that Willow and Xander knew all too well from first hand experience. “Please, like I’d let his dick anywhere near me after it’d been in you!”

“Cordy…” Angel risked a glance at Darla and watched as she stood and ostentatiously straightened her red dress. He couldn’t believe he’d slept with her, tried to lose himself in her. He glared at Darla, hating himself for being so weak, hating her for being so easy. He wanted to cry, but couldn’t, not when his three associates were surrounding him with arrows and disappointed expressions on their faces. He needed to think fast and talk himself out of this. He doubted that he could blame Buffy, seeing that she wasn’t even around.

“Angelus, are you going to let her talk to me like that?” Rage filled her when she looked over at her silent childe; he still had that stinking soul. She wanted to tear his face off with her nails and then dust them both. The curse must’ve been changed so that he couldn’t lose it. The possibility that he couldn’t ever achieve perfect happiness between her legs never occurred to her. Instead she settled on the idea that whoever re-souled her boy had made it permanent. She wanted to howl and rage. But Darla realised she had very little chance of doing that and surviving this mess. So she focused on escaping.

“Darla, shut up and get out of here, now!” Angel scrambled to his feet and looked around for his pants.

“Oh for goodness sake, get dressed man. You are making an utter arse of yourself!” Wesley scooped up the crumpled pair of slacks and threw them at Angel, his eyes never leaving Darla. The flaxen-haired vampiress glared at the three of them and began to edge her way to the exit.

“Get out? Get OUT?” Cordelia yelled at Angel, her eyes wide with incredulity. “As if,” she snorted and took aim at Darla, her eyes narrowed. “Only way Darla the wonder slut is leaving is in a dustpan.”

“Wait…no…” Angel leapt forward, tangling himself in his trousers and tripping as the fell down. He managed to grab hold of Cordy’s crossbow and knock it out of her hands. Wes and Gunn were pulled over as Cordelia’s arms swung around her and they all collapsed into a cursing pile. Wes grunted as Gunn’s elbow caught him in the stomach and his fingers tightened reflexively on the trigger. There was a muffled scream and the sound of glass shattering.

“Eww, get off of me. You smell like sex and like evil slut juices…I so don’t wanna know where your hands and mouth have been. Gah, Darla breath…”

“Dear god, Cordelia, must you…I don’t need that image in my head.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick…” Wes and Gunn groaned in unison, both of them tinged around the gills with a green that Lorne would’ve envied.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my god, Spike. You’re so laaaaame,” Buffy giggled as Spike blew a raspberry on her neck and then licked her from collarbone to chin.

“Love you, Slayer.” He kissed the tip of her nose, the innocence of the gesture belying the fact that his fingers were busy inside her. Slowly moving in and out of her tight channel, her arousal slickened his fingers and hand as he pumped in and out of her. Both of them gasped and kissed each other with deep wet succulent kisses that lingered on the edge of bliss.

“Love…oh—you too.” Buffy’s head dropped back and her mouth parted, her lips wet and swollen from his kisses. Her hips undulated on his dextrous fingers. “Please, no more teasing – foreplay is all of the good but I need you inside me now or I’ll die.”

Spike shook his head at her impatience and pulled his hand reluctantly from her soft channel, lingering on her swollen clit for a cheeky tweak. His lust-filled eyes focused on her body as she shivered through a mini orgasm. “Lie back down, sweets.” His hands ran over her heaving chest, teasing her nipples with firm pinches and tugs. He smirked as her body undulated as she sank backwards, her breasts pushed upwards as her back arched into his hands. Her sleek muscles rippling under her soft pale skin as she panted and moaned, her hands fisted in her tousled hair.

Languidly, Buffy raised her arms and caressed his sharp angular features. “Come to me, Spike.” Her voice took on a sultry husky timber as her lavender eyes watched his every move. Spike stood and kicked off his boots and jeans that were bunched around his ankles. He shrugged off the remains of his torn t-shirt and stood above her recumbent form. The pale moonlight shone in from the shattered windows above the two lovers, painting his lean muscled form with silvery fingers, illuminating his torso to her appreciative eyes. She purred approvingly at the image of his body limned in light and her eyes lingered on his jutting cock that curved up to his toned stomach. Smiling up at his she curled a finger at him and beckoned him down to her.

He sank down to his knee between her open legs and ran his hands up the soft quivering skin, gently nudging them further apart. “Spike.” Buffy reached up and curved her hands over his shoulder, soothing the tension in them and gently urging him to sink into her. Spike slowly lowered himself onto her willing body, his cock sliding up and nestling against her engorged clit. Her slick lips clung to his length as he slowly moved his hips up and down, savouring her wetness.

Buffy huffed angrily against his neck and then growled in his ear before giving it a languid lick, her fangs nibbling on his lobe. Spike purred and pressed his hips down, his cock slipping into her welcoming depths in a smooth move. They both moaned against each other’s open mouths before sealing their union with a deep kiss. Buffy’s hands flexed on his shoulders, her excitement peaking as she knew that the culmination of this evening would be their marking of each other.

Slowly his hips began to move in the age-old dance of all lovers. The still night air was filled with their moans and groans as their bodies took over and began to guide them to that peak where nirvana was reached. Buffy’s anticipation increased for the culmination of their lovemaking. She was ready for his bite; the one that would mark her as his and the mark she would place on his pale throat would declare him to all that saw it as her mate.

“Love you, Spike…I’m nearly – oh, there.”

Their body became a blur as the rocked against each other, their arms tightening as the tempo of their lovemaking increased. Spike’s human features shifted as his fangs and ridges appeared. The intensity of the moment overwhelming his thinly contained self control. His hand slipped between their frantically twisting bodies, seeking her nub, determined to tip her over at the same time as he tumbled over the edge into paradise.

Buffy squeaked as he twisted her clit and her body shook around him. “Gah…” Her inner walls fluttered about his aching cock and Spike groaned as she began to come. She angled her head ready to bite him. She was worried as she had only the vaguest ideas of what to do from books and whispers. She’d never heard of mating until she’d been turned and realised that Drac had taken all three of his ho’s as mates, She had wondered if he was just being the grandstanding ass that he is with the ‘ooohhh, they are mine for all eternity, joust like you will be, sweet Slayer-Childe of mine’. Until then she’d thought that mating between vampires was something from badly written pulp fiction vamp novels and Anne Rice theories. She was still unsure of it, but figured even if there were no mystical union, shared thoughts or enhanced powers, at least they would bear each other’s permanent fang marks.

Spike reared his head back, ready to strike and then suddenly, he wavered. His thoughts were filling in his head as they both roared in unison and tumbled into bliss. He jerked his throat away from Buffy’s questing fangs with a gasp of realisation. He wanted more than a scar, he wanted it all. He smiled down at the hurt and confusion in her sweet eyes and brushed a chaste kiss on her forehead and then changed her entire world with three softly whispered little words. Ones she had never dreamt of hearing once she had been called as a Slayer and had left all her childish dreams and hopes behind as her life was inextricably intertwined with the dark.

“Marry me, Buffy?”
 

Chapter 35:

Chapter 35

"So I got kinda bored waiting for Count 'Ivannawaittillater' to work out which one of the Slayer's little friends was my Key."

Tara froze. Her hands shook as she tried to insert the key into the lock. The Magic Box was a silent witness to the scream of pain as her wrist snapped under the pressure of the smaller blonde's hand as Glory spun Tara around to face her.

"Oh, you are a cutie, I had my boys watching over you last night, seeing that you are the newest arrival and all." Glory gripped harder and Tara gasped as she felt her wrist shatter. Glory grinned maliciously and let the blood under finger help her hand slide over her victims twitching fingers and crush them in her iron hard grasp. "Have to say they were kinda pissed about the wards up on your crash pad. None of them could get you for me, so here I am, having to go out in the sun. You have any idea how bad this is for my divine complexion?"

"Oh goddess," Tara quietly cried, , unwilling to draw attention to passers-by. She and Giles had parted that morning so he could get a change of clothes and freshen up. A small part of her railed at the foolishness of them all. Their strongest fighters were gone, leaving two mortals alone and vunerable to attack. None of them had even considered for one brief moment, that one day without Buffy or Spike around, things would get this bad. She retched from pain amplified as Glory crushed her fragile bones to powder.

"Oh, this is nice. Just hangin' out, just us girls. I heard you like that sort of thing, don't you?" Glory squeezed Tara's imprisoned hand harder and grinned at the sight of blood seeping out between their fingers.

Tara winced in pain; flashes of white hot agony shot up from her hand and into her body, the sound of her fragile bones cracking filled the air. "Ahhh." She took a deep breath and held it as she tried not to fall to her knees in anguish.

"Don't make a sound," Glory warned as she tightened her grasp. She glanced down and watched the blood seep from between their fingers. Tara gasped again and tried to subdue her whimpers as Glory looked up and down the street to check that they were being ignored. She was on the alert for any do-gooders who might interfere with her getting her Key and stopping her fun. Early morning passer-bys were oblivious to the dramatic events unfolding, not seeming to notice a little thing like a bone crushing as out of place. “You gotta love this town. Their heads are so far up their asses they don’t see a thing, not even this!” Glory raised their joined hands and shook them, showering blood over Tara’s fair hair.

Tara took a sobbing breath trying not to fall to the ground in a babbling weeping mess. She looked away, desperately searching for the familiar sight of Giles, who had arranged to meet her that morning. She glanced at the two cycle cops at the top of the street, chatting to themselves and oblivious of her situation and pain.

"Nah. They won't help you. I'd kill them,” the goddess promised maliciously. “You know that. All of them are vunerable, just like you," she taunted. “There's no one here that can stop me, no one to save you," Glory mocked as Tara continued to gasp and pant as agony filled her.

"There's no one here that cares that your hand is mush and blood is soaking the cement," Glory laughed cruelly. The god casually flexed her fingers against Tara’s as she used her superhuman strength on the little Wicca’s hand, revelling in the groan of pain that erupted from her victim's lips. “Ohhh yummy, I love it when they scream and whimper, makes me tingly all over.”

"Please, don't," Tara whimpered and tried to pull her hand free.

Glory shook her head and laughed. "Don't even try, honey. I'll kill her," she drawled while pointing to a mother pushing her baby in a pram. "And ... and them." She gestured to a couple waiting at the bus stop. "I'll kill him, and her and her." She laughed loudly, throwing back her head and shaking her hair over her shoulders. "And it'll all be your fault." Glory's nails dug in and Tara's blood began to drip out between their fingers. Tara continued to whimper softly, in agonising pain and her breathing was erratic.

"Kinda funny, isn't it? All these people here and ... no one who can do a thing. Not a person who can help you."

Tara whimpered and turned her head to look at Glory. Her eyes widened at the sight of Giles's car pulling onto Main Street. Hope filling her, she gritted her teeth and tried to wrest her hand free.

Glory ignored her futile attempts and carried on her one-sided conversation. "But that's people for ya. They're pretty worthless." She sighed dramatically and watched as a man walked past them. "But keys, on the other hand ... keys are worth a whole lot to lil’old me."

Tara's stomach dropped at the mention of Dawnie. She gritted her teeth, determined to at least keep that secret. She shook her head and tightened her lips defiantly.

Glory smiled and brought their clenched hands up to her sneering mouth and licked off some of the blood. Her eyes widened in shock and she made a disgusted face and spat on the pavement. "You lying little tramp! You're not the key -- you're nothing! Just another worthless human being!" she exclaimed angrily.

"But I never said I was the Key," Tara whispered painfully in her defence.

Glory shook their joined hands maliciously, enjoying the whimpers of agony escaping from her captive's lips. "I hate being lied to. It makes me feel so betrayed." She paused briefly pondering her next move, also mentally torturing and eviscerating her idiot minions for their mistake. "Hey!" She looked back at Tara's sweating pale face. "You wanna make it all better?" Tara looked at her with fear. "If you tell me who the key really is ... I'll let you go," Glory lied.

Tara’s face filled with alarm. Glory gave her hand another squeeze and she whimpered again as the last of her bones cracked under the pressure.

Tara blinked through her tears. In the distance she saw Giles slam on the brakes of his car and leap out. He began to run towards them, his feet beating a sharp frantic staccato on the sidewalk. But he was already too late. She could see his anguished face as he ran towards her calling her name. Tara groaned under her breath, realising that they were both lost.

"Think about it. You think your hand hurts? Imagine what you'd feel with my fingers wiggling in your brain." Tara gulped loudly, fear fixing her pulse at a rapid pace. "It doesn't kill you. What it does ... is make you feel like you're in a noisy little dark room." Glory frowned and moved from foot to foot, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Naked and ashamed ... and there are things in the dark that need to hurt you because you're bad ... little pinching things that go in your ears." Tara began to sob loudly as she watched Giles running towards her almost as if he were in slow motion. Glory continued, oblivious to the events unfolding around her. "It crawls on the inside of your skull. And you know ... that if the noise and the crawling would stop ... that you could remember how to get out." Glory contemplated her own words as Tara continued to weep quietly.

The smug god turned to look at Tara again and smirked. "But you never, ever will." Glory crushed the useless hand in her palm, giggling at the girl’s cry of pain.

"Who ... is ... the key?" she demanded again.

Tara forced herself to stop crying and looked Glory defiantly in the eye, and said nothing.

"Fine, let's get crazy." Glory caressed the side of Tara's face with her other hand. Tara whimpered and tried to pull her face away. It was all too late; strong fingers plunged into Tara's vulnerable head.

There was a crackle and a pop, and then nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy rolled onto her side and glared at the demon next to her making with the noises. She sighed wistfully. ‘So much for the romantic snuggles and Spike loving’. The happy rumbles and snorts were loud enough to shake dust off the rafters above her and a total mood killer. She huffed and reached over and poked Spike in the ribs. As cute, sexy and as adorable as he was, the snoring was kind of loud and she wanted him awake and making with the Spike shaped snuggles.

Spike muttered something under his breath and pulled her closer to his lax body. She sighed happily and rubbed up against him like a contented kitten.

“Spike, are you awake?” Buffy whispered. The only response she got was a snuffling sound as he buried his face into her hair.

Buffy mentally rolled her eyes. ‘And it’s strike one for vamp stamina.’ She wriggled a bit and managed to slither down his body until her nose was mashed against his breastbone. Spike clung tightly to her head and cradled it against him. After the last few strained days, even in his subconscious he was determined not to let her go. He purred and snorted happily, his dreams filled with his childe.

“Mmmph…” Buffy wriggled out from his embrace and down to his belly button. With a gentle push she managed to get Spike to lay on his back. ‘The perfect yum.’ Her tongue flickered out and dipped into his bellybutton. She spent a few minutes mapping it out with her teeth and lips, causing Spike’s hips to undulate against her body. Her fingers were busy playing and tweaking his flat nipples – he arched his back as her fingernails scraped not too gently on the soft pale skin. She smirked and let her fangs drop. Delicately, Buffy nipped at his alabaster pale skin, her tongue quickly lapping the beads of blood that rose to the surface of the minute wounds.

Buffy reluctantly left his bellybutton and trailed her lips and fangs down the fine line of hair that was pointing to her eventual goal. Her hands pressed on his lean hips, holding him still as her tongue explored his muscled stomach. She purred happily as her agile tongue traced the clean lines of his hips and downwards. Her pouting lips brushed against the deep brown curls that surrounded his twitching cock, it was semi-hard and slowly rising to the occasion.

Buffy slipped between Spike’s splayed legs and reached for his budding erection. She cradled it reverently in her hands and rubbed the soft skin gently with her fingers. Her entranced eyes never left it, mesmerised as it slowly hardened and lengthened in her eager grasp. She ran a fingernail down along the throbbing veins, watching fascinated as his cock lurched with each delicate touch.

Spike woke with a yelp on his lips and a very happy smile on his face.

“Slayer…” he hissed as he watched her full swollen lips consume the tip of his erection and moaned at the passion filled eyes that stared up his body at him. He levered himself up on shaky arms and watched entranced as she tried to consume him whole. The strong muscles in her throat constricted around him as Buffy swallowed over and over, determined to take him all in. Spike gritted his teeth as she gulped hard and his cock slipped down her throat and her lips pressed against his groin. She really did seem to enjoy doing this to him! “Jesus.” He choked off his words at the sensation of her throat tightening around his hyper- sensitive cock head as she purred at him.

Then it was over. Spike screamed out her name as a white bolt of fire shot from his balls up to his spine, fried his brain and then shot back down to his erupting cock.

“Oh my sweet vixen… oh Christ, stop sucking… no, don’t stop, yeaaah, that’s it. Nibble just there, you vixen.” Spike kept a continuous stream of babble going as Buffy swallowed his cum in eager gulps, her teeth and tongue busily drawing out his pleasure. Her hands were diligently running up and down his thigh and dipped under her chin to squeeze his balls and rub at the sensitive skin behind them, her mouth continued on his softening cock. Slowly she let him slip from her swollen lips and her pink tongue lapped the flaccid organ clean, her eyes never leaving his passion filled face.

Pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, Buffy sat up on her heels and licked her lips clean. “So you’re awake now?”

Spike gaped up at the siren kneeling between his legs.

“Cat got your tongue?” Buffy teased as she crawled up his supine body. “Lemme check.” She pressed an open mouthed kiss to his lips and let her tongue dip into his mouth, curling it around his briefly before she pulled back. “Nope, it’s right there,” she added with a twinkle to her eyes. Spike gulped and licked his lips. He could taste himself on them and stared up at Buffy speechless, all power to speak robbed from him by her dextrous tongue and mouth. He was positive his brains had shot out of his ears when he’d come and that he would be a mute drooling idiot for the rest of his unlife. But as long as she was with him, he’d be happy, even if he had to learn sign language.

“Hey, what’s with the Marcel Marceau impersonation?” Buffy teased as she rubbed his chest with her hands. She reached down and grabbed hold of his slack hands and placed them on her swollen breasts, mutely encouraging Spike to tease and tweak her aching nipples, something he did so well. Spike’s numb fingers responded and slowly his hands began to play with her breasts.

“Morn’in?” Spike managed to splutter out before she straddled his hips and began to rub her wet cleft up and down on his rapidly reappearing erection.

“Yeah. I think it is?” She squinted up at the dirty windows. “Guess we’re stuck here for the day? Hmmm…wonder what we can do to keep busy?” She looked down with a pout at her sire and waited for him to say something. Buffy shimmed her hips and let his cock slip between her slick inner lips. As she slithered up and down on it, she groaned throatily. “Oh, I know we can do this.” With that, she shifted slightly and Spike slid into her tight wet depths.

“Well yeah, there is that…” Spike trailed off as her inner muscles tightened.

~~~~~~~~~

“Oh dear lord, no!” Giles ran as fast has his legs could go, but he could see he was already too late. He powerlessly watched as Glory’s fingers sank into Tara’s defenceless skull. He tripped over his feet wavered and managed to keep his balance, in his haste to get to the sweet girl and stumbled. Straightening, he ran over the road and slithered to a halt a foot away from Tara, the brave witch having finally sunk to her knees. He had no idea what the frizzy haired so-called Goddess was doing to the poor girl, all he could see was her fingers moving deeper and deeper into Tara's head.

Glory flung her head back, a look of orgasmic glee on her sharp features, her red painted lips parting as she sighed happily at the infusion of power and sanity. "Sooo good," she crooned. Tara's hands dropped into her lap as reason and sanity was robbed from her. Slowly any animation and intelligence left was pulled from her as Glory delved even deeper into the wiccan's psyche and robbed her of all that she was..

“No!” Giles reached for her, his gaze caught on the vacant look in her eyes, unaware of Glory reaching for him. Her face twisted with a malicious smile of glee. Finally she was able to send a message to the Slayer—robbing a friend of her mind and breaking her father figure.

So caught up in each other, neither of the three heard the crackle and pop behind them.

Glory’s hands grasped hold of Giles’s lapels and jerked him off his feet.

“Hey there, Slayer poppa. Time for you to say nighty night,” Glory sneered as she hefted him easily over her head. Giles’s tried to wriggle free, his hand clutching futilely at her wrists. He already knew it was too late. His struggles were all for nothing – she was stronger and faster. She was a goddess and he was a mere mortal, even his magicks were a poor defence against an insane goddess intent on causing maximum destruction.

“You know, maybe I should just drain you too. She tasted of shortbread and fondant fancies, wonder if you would as well?” Glory tossed her curly hair over her shoulder, intent on Giles. Her glittering eyes drank in the agony on his face.

“You rancid bint, you'll get your comeuppance,” Giles spat in her face. Defiance filled him. He knew that there was little he could do and his soul ached for the additional anguish Buffy would undergo when she discovered his and Tara's fate. But he knew that she would not let Glory get away with this or anything else.

“Now that is just plain rude.” Glory shook him hard, smirking with uncontained glee as his head jolted abruptly from side to side. She gripped him with one hand around the throat, uncaring that she was bruising him badly with her superhuman strength. Glory used her free hand to wipe the spittle off her face and dried it on his shirt. "I hate fleshbags. Do you realise that from the moment you are born, you are rotting to death?” She cocked her head and stared deeply into Giles’s eyes, watching the light in them fade out slowly. “Imagine that from the moment you take breath, you are on a countdown for the big sleep. Must be kinda frustrating.” Glory shook him again and then yawned mockingly. “Getting kinda bored with this. Your blood and sweat is ruining my manicure.” Her thin lips made a moue of disgust. “That’s another thing I hate. All the fluids you humans seep everywhere. It's disgusting, I tell you. Disgusting!"

Giles felt something break inside him. As she shook him like a cat with a mouse, an excruciating pain shot through his body. His vision blurred even more as his glasses flew off and shattered on the tarmac. His hands loosened their death grip on her wrist as he fought to stay conscious against her assault. But his body failed him. The pain and damage the hell goddess was inflicting on him was more that any mortal would've been able to stand. His legs jerked once, then again as his neck shattered. Blood began to seep from his mouth and nose as delicate vessels in his brains burst under the pressure of her grip. He could feel his adam's apple splintering and bile rose in his throat. Giles glared at her defiantly and spat blood into Glory's laughing face in a last blast of bravado.

Glory reeled back in horror. “That is vile.” Using her free hand, she blotted the blood stained spittle and wiped it on Giles’s jacket. Before she could do anything else, Glory felt something paw at her skirt. Looking down into her first victim’s slack face, the goddess grimaced.

“It's dirty. It's all dirty. And all over me,” he heard Tara moan. He tried to form reassuring words, but with that last use of his energy darkness seeped into his vision. His last memory was of flying.

“Ewww, don’t touch me, you freak!” Glory kicked Tara hard, dancing away from her clinging hands. Instead, she watched as Giles sailed across Main Street and hit a lamppost with a massive crash. Glory dusted her hands in satisfaction. "Now, if that isn't a message for the Slayer, then I don't know what is."

An anguished voice filled the silent street. “NOOOOO!”
 

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