No matter though, because if she was an agent of the Devil, there wasn’t a man in the club that wouldn’t willingly follow her siren’s song into the very pits of hell and beyond.  Such was the pull and attraction of the tightly muscled blonde woman, yet she was innocent to it and its affects on the opposite sex.  Buffy knew she was cute by most standards, even pretty by some, but anything beyond that was out of her realm of comprehension.  Her first boyfriend had destroyed any semblances of self esteem she might have grown and nurtured.  She fell in love at sixteen, the intense, untainted and forgiving love that only a young woman can give.  He was her everything, and he knew it.  He twisted her love, her loyalty and her compassion into subservience to him, into his own personal ego boost.  When she refused to give him her body after three years, he left, but not before laying bare to her the many indiscretions and transgressions he committed while whispering love to her.  Buffy’s heart shattered into jagged pieces, but she continued forward with life, such was her nature.  Even when the violent letters and obscene phone calls started, when the windshield of her car was shattered and the word “whore’ was spray painted across her old house, Buffy did not break.  Her mother’s bout with cancer staggered her, but she remained strong for both her mom and A.J.  And even when Buffy had to quit school and take on the most embarrassing job in the world, to her, Buffy did not break.  She’d grown to accept the many paths her life led her down. 

But, when Buffy was onstage, dancing to “Fever” by Ella Fitzgerald, she caught sight of Spike in the audience.  Right there, Buffy felt her resolve, her will, her essence, crack, just a little bit.  Spike’s eyes were hot and hungry, but besides the usual lust, they held a little bit of shame and anger.  At her, for her, for what she was doing, for parading herself for the money she would earn, Buffy didn’t know. When she and Spike locked gazes and he turned his head away, Buffy felt something inside her break away and die.  Ashamed, he ashamed to have been seen with me, to have asked me out, he’s ashamed of me.  And while this shouldn’t have mattered to her, it did.  It mattered that Spike slighted her by turning his head away.  It mattered because there had been something growing between them, something amazing and special, something to make Buffy forget about past pain and focus on the future.  Stupid girl, what did you expect?  Love at first sight?  Him to sweep you off your feet and kiss and hug and make everything all better?  You’re too old for such foolish stories, and make-believe.  At least it happened now, instead of down the road. 

Somehow, Buffy managed to finish her set with a smile on her face.  It was a tight, plastic, stretched-to-the-point-of-breaking smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.  When she finally got to the relative safety of backstage, all Buffy wanted to do was get the hell out.  The perfume was too cloying, the giggles, oppressive and annoying.  Why must they giggle like fourth-graders?  Huh?  Why?

Willow, who only had one set tonight because Buffy covered her other ones, walked up behind Buffy and tugged her hair playfully.  “So, did you see him?”

Buffy turned to Willow and began to pull on her clothes.  “Who?” she asked shortly. 

Willow rolled her eyes.  “Don’t play dumb with me, I’m better at it.  Spike, did you see Spike?”

Buffy gave a half shrug.  “Yeah, I saw him, no biggie.”

Willow’s jaw dropped and she dropped to a seat next to where Buffy was standing.  “No biggie?  What the hell are you talking about?  This is the same Spike who took you to the aquarium, right?  You know the one you were gushing about right before your set.  What happened out there?”

Buffy felt tears prickle her eyes, but refused to acknowledge them.  “Nothing, I just realized how much I don’t know about him and I’m being cautious, that’s all.”

Willow rolled her eyes.  “Oh, yeah, tell me another one.  You’ve been two steps behind your hormones the entire time you’ve known this man.  Now, tell me the real reason.”

Suddenly, Buffy felt her limbs become heavy and her energy rush out of her body.  She slumped down next to Willow and leaned her head forward on a hand.  “God, Willow, you should’ve seen the way he looked at me just now.  I mean, I was dancing and I felt a tingle so I looked up and I think I caught him off-guard.  Willow, he looked like he was embarrassed to even know me or have me looking at him, like I shamed him.”

“Sweetie, are you sure that’s the real reason and that you’re not reading anything into it?” Willow asked softly.  Buffy was running scared from something that had hurt her so bad and may do so again, Willow was positive.  She’d done it before time and time again.  A new guy, someone perfect in most respects, yet Buffy found the most miniscule of faults to be horrific and worthy of dismissal.  Whatever was happening between her and Spike was happening fast, and Buffy was struggling to her footing.

“What’s there to read?  I look at him and he just looks away, like he doesn’t know me, or even want to know me,” Buffy replied.  Again, she battled back any emotion that tried to surface. 

“Honey, before you jump to any conclusions and land directly on your ass, maybe you should talk to Spike first.  He was probably just looking at Riley or something, and you caught the tail end of it,” Willow giggled at the thought.

“No, Willow, he wasn’t looking at Riley.  He was looking and me.  I’m sure of it,” Buffy said wearily and stood up to pack her bag.  “I’m sorry, but rain check for milkshakes?  I’m really not in the mood right now.”

Willow smiled sympathetically.  “I understand, besides, I’ve got class tomorrow.”

Buffy nodded.  “’Night Wills.”

“Night, Buffy,” Willow replied.  She watched Buffy walk through the room and head for the back door.  Once she was sure Buffy was outside, Willow grabbed her stuff and charged out into the club.  Spike was sitting exactly in the same spot as during her set, now drinking a beer.

Willow stealthily walked up around and behind him, then gave his head a good slap before sitting at the table. 

“Ow!  Bloody hell, Red, what was that for?” he demanded, rubbing where she’d hit him.

“For whatever you did to Buffy,” Willow replied. 

“What the bleedin’ hell are you talking about?  I didn’t do a bloody thing to Buffy, although I sure thought about it,” Spike said, giving Willow a dirty look.

Willow rolled her eyes and him and briefly told him what Buffy said to her minutes before.

Spike’s eyes widened.  “She thought I was ashamed of her!  That’s bloody ridiculous!  I was havin’ some seriously impure thoughts involving sex in public and I didn’t want to accidentally run up on stage and ravish her.”

Willow laughed.  “Accidentally ravish her?” she asked.

Spike smiled.  “Okay, not so accidental, and more so purposeful, but I definitely wasn’t ashamed of her.  Maybe a teensy bit jealous about the whole taking clothes off in public, but she told me why she strips and I understand.”  Spike looked at Willow.  “Please, Red, you gotta tell her I didn’t mean that.”

Willow shook her head.  “Oh no, you’re not pulling me into this quicksand.  You go catch her and tell her yourself.  But let me warn you, Buffy has been burned before, badly.  Now, whenever she has strong feelings, she tends to run headlong in the opposite direction, don’t let her.”

Spike nodded.  “Sure, ‘m a persistent bloke, that’s for sure, but what’s to say I even want to catch the bint?” he asked. 

Willow rolled her eyes again.  “Please, you are so putty in her hands.  I’ve seen you around her; could you be a bigger wuss?  C’mon, Porgy and Bess?” she teased and Spike’s face flushed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, well, that doesn’t mean anything.  I mean, I just met the damn girl.” Spike jutted his chin out and crossed his arms.

Willow felt like screaming.  “I swear, you two stubborn jackasses are perfect together.  Who cares that you just met?  You’re not proposing, are you?  No, so what’s it matter?  You like her?  You respect her?  You want her?  Well, that’s all that matters, how you feel.  Not that you don’t know Buffy’s full name or her astrological sign, but that you want to take the time and opportunity to find out.  Now get your ass out of that chair and go explain yourself to my best friend before I kick your cute British ass.”

Spike smiled.  “You think my ass is cute?”

Willow laughed.  “You know your ass is cute, now move it.”

“How am I supposed to catch her if she’s already left?”

“Well, you could try the parking lot, genius, and if she’s not there, go to her apartment.  Do I have to spell out every step for you?” Willow asked, exasperated.

Spike smiled again.  “Oz is one lucky man, you know that?”  He jumped up and brushed a quick kiss across Willow’s cheek and headed out of the club.

Willow was smiling and feeling very pleased with herself when a shadow fell across her.  She looked up and almost groaned.  “Riley, what do you want?”

“Where’s Buffy?” he asked.

“She left,” Willow replied shortly.

“She was supposed to talk to me,” he protested.

Willow felt her patience run thin.  “Well, Riley, as Buffy’s official babysitter, I would say that she’s got a lot on her mind and wants to be left alone.  I’ll be sure to tell her that you need to talk to her, now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Willow tried to push past Riley, but he grabbed onto her arm.  “Think you’re funny, Willow?  We’ll see how funny you are when you’re jobless and on the street.  Next time you see Buffy, tell her I need to talk to her,” he said coldly and walked off.

Willow shivered and tried to ignore the pain in her arm where Riley grabbed her.  Stupid, creepy bartender-man.  She shouldered her bag and headed for the parking lot and her school books.  Ahh, a night of studying. 

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Buffy felt like screaming.  All she wanted to do was get home and take a bubble bath, was that so much to ask?  Apparently, it was because her car refused to start.  She popped the hood and pretended to know what the hell she was doing, but failed miserably.  She poked and prodded and looked for loose wires, but still, nothing.  Having exhausted her entire repertoire of car knowledge, she was stuck either bumming a ride from Willow, calling a cab, or calling her mother.  Mom is definitely out of the question, major wiggage if she has to pick me up here.  Cab?  Maybe, see if Willow doesn’t mind first.  Plan firmly in mind, she left her bag in the car and headed toward the club and Willow. 

Halfway to the club, Buffy felt the fine hairs on her neck stand up.  A chill snaked down her spine and wormed around into the pit of her stomach.  She stopped and looked around.  No one else was in the parking lot.  The fluorescent lights gave off a strange glow and Buffy shivered at the shadows.  She laughed out loud and gave herself a mental head slap, then began walking toward the club again.  This time, however, she head footsteps behind her.  She turned quickly and again saw nobody.  She increased her pace and was halfway to the club when she heard it. A low laugh, gravelly and sinister and directly behind her.  Oh God what was that?  Heart hammering in her chest, Buffy didn’t spare a look behind her but ran toward the club at full speed.  Oh God ohGodohGodohGod.  The footsteps behind her increased in tempo as well, and the laughter got closer.  Buffy whimpered and ran even faster.  Her lungs burned with the exertion, and her heart beat wildly, but Buffy refused to slow, the laughter behind her spurning her on.  She was almost to the door when she felt something soft brush lightly against the nape of her neck.  Buffy let out a shriek and turned to face whoever was taunting her, fists in the air.   

There was nobody behind her.  The lights were still casting an eerie glow, but Buffy didn’t see a single soul in the parking lot.  Buffy took a few deep breaths and felt her heart rate slow down from the excruciatingly fast run she subjected it to.  She bent at the waist and tried to control her breathing and she saw it.  A rose lay a few feet away from her.  A perfect, blood-red rose, petals closed and thorns removed.  Tied to the rose was a small piece of paper.  Buffy quickly looked around and kept scanning as she inched closer and closer to the flower.  She picked it up and opened the note attached to it.

 SOON, MY LOVE.

That was all it said, but it was written in blood.  Buffy felt another whimper in her throat and she turned to go inside when a hand clapped down on her shoulder behind her. 

Now, however, now was a different story altogether.  They were leaving the club and Buffy knew that it was decision time.  Should she, or should she not?  It was running through her mind, plaguing her with wonderful feelings, but self-doubt too.  What if they did and she was horrible?  What it they didn’t and Spike got mad at her like him.  What if, what if, what if, Buffy was ready to scream at all the what ifs floating in her head. 

Spike was having a similar problem to Buffy’s.  Take her home and let her see my house?  It’s not that big, surely she won’t get suspicious.  Have to hid my case files, pictures and other stuff.  Have to stop this and tell Buffy the truth.  Spike wanted to tell her tonight, but an off-hand comment she said earlier made him bite his tongue.

Buffy was telling Spike funny stories from the happenings at the club.  They had talked about the various men who showed up at the club and Buffy had said “I think that they have way too much time on their hands.  I don’t know if I could stand someone who was affluent enough to go to that club.  They all seem so snobby and stuck-up and I just want to scream at them ‘YOU’RE IN A STRIP CLUB AND YOU BEING A PRICK’, see their reaction to that.  It might be pretty funny.” 

That had put a serious damper on Spike’s intention to come clean with Buffy.  Now, he was unsure of what to tell her, and unsure of what in the hell to do next.  Should he invite her home?  His home was large, but not that large.  He deliberately modeled it the opposite of everything he’d grown up with, so the two-story, red-brick house was very down-to-earth and homey, but in an expensive neighborhood.  Buffy would know that he couldn’t afford such a house on a waiter’s salary.  Shit, what the bloody hell and I gonna do? 

So, Spike drove around.  He cruised the main drag and took a lot of circuitous, windy roads, meandering wherever felt right.  Buffy caught onto what he was doing and appreciated the gesture.  She sat back against the soft interior of his car and simply relaxed her body and mind.  Whatever the answer was, it would come to her. 

Eventually, Spike made his way into his neighborhood.  Buffy raised her eyebrows at the well-to-do community and let out a small gasp when Spike pulled up in his driveway. 

“This is where you live?” she asked in amazement.

“Family money,” he said and shrugged. 

Buffy tried to make sense of the puzzle.  Something here was not quite right.  He could afford a home in this neighborhood, but he worked as a waiter in a restaurant?  I don’t think so. 

“Spike, tell me something,” Buffy began, “Why do you work if you have enough cash to qualify as ‘family money’?”

Spike shrugged his shoulders.  Shit, think of something, mate, fast.  “Dunno, luv, just always wanted to contribute to society and all that.  Just because I have some money in my family doesn’t mean that I’m nancyboy who doesn’t want to or is afraid of work.”  That part of it was true, anyway.  Spike never wanted people to say that he’d rested on his family’s laurels and never done anything with his life.  He’d seen enough rich boys to know that if he ever turned into one, he shoot himself. 

Buffy knew he was holding something back, but she let it go, for now.  Right, act like you know what you’re doing now, interrogate later. 

Spike opened the door and let Buffy into his house.  She stood in the doorway and looked around carefully.  To the left was a large living room and to the right looked to be a kitchen.  Spike nudged her inside and locked the door behind them.  Buffy raised her eyebrow at that and pointedly looked at the lock.

“I’ll unlock it when I go to take you home.  For now, thought it would be nice to watch some movies, and I have paranoia about leaving the front door unlocked,” he explained. 

Buffy nodded.  “Okay, give me the grand tour.”

Spike laughed.  “Not much to show, but I will.  Let’s go”

They walked into the living room.  It was large and airy, with two huge windows that overlooked a plush couch.  Matching chairs sat at opposite ends of the room, and against the wall adjacent to the windows was a large entertainment center, television, VCR, DVD player and a plethora of video gaming devices. 

Buffy held up a playstation two game and Spike just shrugged, “I’m a little boy at heart.”

Buffy nodded and they continued the tour.  Through a door from the living room, they entered a small office, and through that was a staircase.  Upstairs was the master bedroom and some guest rooms, Spike explained.  He led Buffy back to the main room and crossed to the television.

“What do you feel like watching, luv?” he asked.

Buffy shrugged.  “I don’t care, surprise me,” she replied, walking into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was large, conservatively speaking.  There was a gleaming refrigerator and stove, surrounded by an oak counter and cupboards.  And island separated the kitchen from the dining room, and honing over the island was a vast array of pots, pans and other cooking implements.  The dining room housed another large window and a big oak table and chars.  A red checkered tablecloth was draped over the table, and a vase of flowers was in the middle.  To Buffy, who had been expecting more of a bachelor pad, this was something that closely resembled her house before they moved.  All it needed was a family.  She wondered what that reflected about Spike and then wandered back into the living room when he called her.

She flopped into a chair and looked at him.  “What are we watching?”

Spike pulled her to the couch and then situated himself behind her.  “A classic,” he assured her. 

The opening credits to “Snatch” rolled onscreen and Buffy hit Spike with a pillow.  “This is a classic?” she asked. 

Spike acted miffed.  “Everything Guy Ritchie makes is a classic, so hush and let me watch the movie.”

Buffy giggled at him, and then leaned back against his chest.  Spike put his arms around her and they tried to concentrate on the movie. 

Spike was in hell.  It was pure torment holding this precious woman in his arms and trying to will his body to not respond to her.  Every time she laughed, he had to grit his teeth, and when she shifted to get comfortable, Spike was forced to alphabetize his case list.  He was having a hard time paying attention to the wackiness ensuing onscreen between Tommy and Turkish.  Instead, he found himself breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair and rubbing his fingers across the velvet smoothness of her arms. 

Buffy had been paying attention to the movie, but the last time she shifted, she heard a soft groan.  She looked up at Spike and he was staring at the ceiling, eyes closed and mouth moving silently.  Buffy purposefully shifted again, and his mouth moved faster, chanting something over and over again.  His hands started to caress her arms and Buffy found her breathing become difficult.  She turned her attention back to the television, but kept getting distracted by Spike.  She could smell his scent, and feel his fingers stroking her flesh.  In a flash of insight and inspiration, Buffy turned around and made a very bold first step. 

The moment Buffy’s body shifted, Spike opened his eyes and looked at her.  His goddess was looking at him with nothing but want and lust in her eyes.  His body replied by hardening and depriving Spike of any thought at all.  His eyes were riveted on Buffy as she slowly crawled up his body until they were face to face.  She settled her soft curves against his hard planes, surrounding his erection snugly with her heat.  They both moaned in unison and met in a frantic kiss. 

Spike begged for entrance to her mouth with his tongue and she eagerly granted it to him, pleasing them both.  He explored her mouth with his tongue and his hands mapped her body again, reacquainting himself with her curves and lines.  She moved restlessly against his body, hands dipping beneath his shirt to trace his rippled stomach, never once breaking the union of their mouths.

They did have to break apart to breathe, and this time, there was no separating to calm down and cool off.  Spike looked into Buffy’s eyes and waited.  Buffy nodded, invitation clearly given.  Spike accepted and dove in. 

He pulled from the couch onto the thick carpeting of the floor.  So wild was he with need and lust that he didn’t event think of taking her to the bedroom, it was way to far away at this point. 

Right now, Buffy could have cared less.  Spike’s hands were roaming up and down her body, exiting her skin and leaving goose bumps where he touched.  Electricity was coursing through her and the throb that started at he junction of her thighs began to pulse harder.  Spike moved his lips from hers and roamed her face and neck, licking and nipping whatever flesh he found there.  Her pulse beat erratically against his lips and she squirmed beneath him, moving her hands across his back.  He leaned up and took his shirt off. 

Buffy’s inner self squealed with delight.  Ohh, shirtless Spike.  Yummy.  She ran her hand across his back, feeling lean muscle and smooth skin.  Fresh arousal shot through her and she arched off the floor into Spike.  He growled deep in his throat and tugged at her sparkly top, finally nudging it off her body.  He haphazardly tossed it aside and focused on the beautiful sight of her breasts encased in lace and silk.  The delicate lilac bra she wore stood out against her skin and emphasized her heaving bosom.  Spike wasted no further time in contemplation of odes to her beauty; instead he pleasured her with hands, lips and teeth. 

Her bra went flying off and her bare breasts were open to Spike ravenous gaze.  He traced his fingers over and across, marveling at the responsiveness of her body to his touch.  Her nipples immediately pebbled and he leaned forward to take one into his mouth.  Buffy keened in pleasure and arched her back into his touch.  Spike gave the other breast equal attention and then moved down her flat stomach to her belly button.  He licked the quivering flesh and played with her piercing. 

“Oh, luv, what’s this?  Buffy’s got a bit of a bad streak in her, I’d wager,” he murmured against her stomach. 

His voice and the vibrations made Buffy go wild.  She arched against him again and found herself babbling incoherently.  “Spike, need you, want you, so good, so good.  Oh God, oh God, oh God, Spike!”

The sound of his name rolling off her lips, her voice husky and clouded with passion and lust, was almost enough to drive Spike over the edge.  He frantically tugged her skirt off and her matching lilac thong.  Surveying the beauty before him, Spike gave God a silent word of thanks.  She writhed on the ground, bronze skin flushed and beading with sweat, head whipping from side to side and blonde hair flying out around her.  He ached to bury himself inside her, to fall into her heat and lose himself to her. 

Such overwhelming feelings made Spike’s flee instinct flare, but he ignored it.  Instead, he pulled Buffy to him across the carpet and hooked her legs over his shoulders.  He moved down past her belly button and Buffy became alarmed. 

“Spike, what are you doing?” she whispered.

Spike looked up at her.  “’M gonna taste you luv.  I’ve been dying to since the first time I met you.”

His eyes seemed black in the dimly lit room, and Buffy moaned at his words.  The first touch of his tongue almost sent her into orbit. 

As Spike worked magic on her body, Buffy called his name through broken sobs of pleasure.  “Spike, ohmigod, Spike!  Feels so good, never so good.  Spike, Spike, SPIKE!” Buffy wailed his name as she shattered into jagged pieces.  The room disappeared and Buffy was blind to everything but Spike’s touch. 

Spike cradled her body against his as she slowly came down from the precipice.  She looked at him through dazed eyes, and Spike felt the fire flare deep within him.  He made quick work of his pants and socks, and pulled a condom from his wallet.  After slipping it on, he positioned himself at her opening and, looking deeply into her eyes, he surged in.  When he encountered her barrier and broke through it, Spike’s eyes widened and almost popped out of his head. 

Jesus in heaven, she’s a bloody virgin.  Bloody fucking hell, she’s so hot and tight.  Keep it together mate, don’t want to hurt the poor girl any more than you already have.  Stupid git, should have been gentler.  Bloody hell. 

Buffy’s eyes filled with tears when the thin membrane broke.  That was it; she was no longer a virgin.  Her pain soon receded, and all she felt was Spike, filling her and stretching her like no one ever had before.  Ever.  It was a new feeling, yet magnificent and wonderful and the same time.  Spike was looking down at her and she managed a tremulous smile. 

“Bloody hell, luv.  I’m sorry, baby, just hold on for a minute,” he gritted his teeth and slowly withdrew then entered again. 

Buffy’s eyes bugged out of her head and she was brutally assaulted with a barrage of new sensations, all of them exquisite.  It was wonderful, this sense of feeling and completion.  It was animalistic and primal as well, the dance they were now sharing. 

Spike began to move faster, his body’s needs starting to take over.  He tried to take it slow, but bloody hell, this inferno was griping him tightly and felt like he was being squeezed by silken glove. 

“Oh Christ, luv, you feel so good.  So tight, pet, and so damn hot.  Want to lose myself in your heat, feel you forever.  Buffy, Buffy, pet, sweet, luv,” Spike felt himself falling by the wayside as his bodies demands pushed to the forefront. 

As the tempo increased, Buffy felt wonderful little pinpricks of sensations start to consume her.  The pinpricks turned into waves and her whole body began to shake and tremble, the heat rising within her.  Soon, she shattered again keening sharply and flying high on the intense feelings Spike provoked within her. 

Spike felt her topple and fall, and he let himself fall afterward.  His orgasm rocketed though his entire body and the force of it made him yell out loud and then collapse.  Never, in his entire life had he experienced something like that.  But, then again, never in his entire had he been with a virgin either. 

He rolled to his side, pulling Buffy with him.  He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his.  “Are you okay, luv?”

Buffy blushed slightly and smiled.  “I’m fine, a little sore, but fine.  That was wonderful, Spike,” she said quietly. 

Spike felt his ego swell.  “Well, luv, I do try to satisfy,” he said and smirked.  Buffy rolled her eyes and hit him with a pillow. 

“Luv,” Spike said.

“What?” Buffy asked. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Spike asked softly. 

Buffy smiled at him.  “Only if we move to a bed,” she teased. 

Spike’s grin was lightening quick and boyishly eager.  “Nothing I want to do more that get you into my bed,” he said and stood up. 

Buffy stood as well and surveyed the living room.  “Well, I guess I’ll look for my clothes tomorrow,” she said and shrieked at Spike picked her up.

“Trust me, luv, you’re going to be too busy to worry about clothes,” he assured her and carried her to his room. 

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Outside, in the bushes surrounding Spike’s living room, a darkly clothed figure silently saluted the performance of the lovers.  A camera lens gleamed in the moonlight and the figure quietly walked to the front door and taped something up.  Then, he stealthily crept away from the house and toward a car parked down the street.  He chucked and the cold laugh echoed hollowly in the dark street around him.  Tomorrow was going to be a good day, a very good day indeed.   

Chapter 18: Slice of Heaven

Buffy awoke slowly, a delicious feeling rolling through her stomach and sending sparks straight to her core.  It felt like someone was caressing her all over her body, across her breasts, down her stomach, threading through her dark nest of curls and into…OH MY!

The feeling of two fingers pressing into her wet center shot her awake and Spike immediately pulled her back against his bare chest. He reached around her and lifted a leg across his hips and slid back into his slice of heaven.  She looked over her shoulder at him, and their eyes met as he slowly began to thrust.  Spike kissed her shoulder and kept eye contact with Buffy.  He kept his thrusts slow and measured, aware of her soreness from the night before. 

The heat built slowly, not like the out-of-control inferno it had been last night.  Now, the lovers focused only on one another and the responses of their bodies.  Spike moved his hands around Buffy’s body and watched her face contort with pleasure.  She would hiss between her teeth when he found a particularly ticklish spot, and smile and gasp when he brushed a sensitive spot.  As his fingers roamed her soft skin, Spike broke eye contact and nibbled and suckled her back and shoulders. 

He kissed the spot between her shoulder blades and she arched back against him, forcing him out and when she relaxed again, he slipped smoothly back inside her.  This continued for several minutes until Spike’s breathing got harsh and Buffy whimpered under her breath.  Spike smoothly rolled so that he rose above Buffy and continued to thrust into her heat, faster and faster until they were both flying.  Buffy fell first and Spike quickly followed, shouting her name.  They lay on his bed, satisfied and replete, for now. 

As soon as he got feeling back into his body, Spike moved so that he wasn’t crushing Buffy with the weight of his body.  He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over to trace Buffy’s stomach, a tender look on his face.  Cor, she’s so beautiful, how’d I get so bloody lucky? 

Buffy smiled up and Spike and traced the features of his face.  Last night had been absolutely perfect, and even though she didn’t know any different, she knew that Spike was definitely one-of-a-kind. 

The new lovers lay intertwined in bed for awhile until Spike broke the silence.  “You hungry, pet?”

Buffy thought about it for a minute, and then her stomach rumbled.  She blushed.  “Yeah, guess I am a little hungry.”

Spike smirked at her.  “No surprise, luv, you gave us both quite a workout.”

Buffy blushed bright red and Spike laughed at her softly.  “It’s not a bad thing, luv, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little.”  He looked at her seriously.  “I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

Buffy shook her head.  “No, you asked me last night, remember?  It only hurt for a little bit, then it felt wonderful.” She thought about that for a minute, and then blushed again. 

Spike smiled, but said nothing.  The poor girl was going to give herself a heart attack if she didn’t lighten up soon.  Swinging to the side of the bed, Spike pulled on boxers and a tee shirt.  He remembered that Buffy’s clothes were down in the living room, somewhere, so he threw her another black tee shirt and a pair of shorts.  She pulled the clothes on and was practically swimming in them.  He laughed and she gave him a shove. 

They walked downstairs, pushing and shoving the entire way.  When the reached the living room, Spike gathered up Buffy’s clothes and set them in a small pile.  Then he pulled her into the kitchen and began to make breakfast. 

Buffy looked at the clock on the microwave, it was ten o’clock.  “Holy shit!” she yelled.  “I need to call home before my mother has an aneurysm or something.”

Spike handed her the phone and Buffy walked into the living room with it.  She dialed her home and waited, a pit forming in her stomach. 

“Hello?” Shit, her mom answered first, now she couldn’t just leave a message with A.J to pass onto her mom. 

“Hi, mom, it’s me,” Buffy said.

“Buffy, where are you?  You didn’t come home last night?” Joyce sounded a little dazed and Buffy wondered if her mother had just woken up.

“No, mom, I didn’t.  I’ll tell you everything when I get home, I just wanted to call and let you know that I’m okay,” Buffy said and crossed her fingers. 

“Well, okay, honey, I guess I’ll talk to you when you get home,” Joyce replied and Buffy pumped a fist in the air.  At least she didn’t ask about Spike. 

“Oh and Buffy,” Joyce said, “Tell Spike I said good morning.” She hung up.  Buffy stared at the phone for a minute then laughed, busted by mom, oh well.   

Buffy skipped back into the kitchen and smiled at what she found.  Spike was standing in front of the stove, cooking breakfast, and looking oh-so yummy doing it.  His hair was rumpled at his clothes wrinkled, but Buffy didn’t think she’d ever seen someone look so damn sexy.  Still smiling, Buffy walked up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist and pillowed her face against the rippling muscles of his back. 

Spike felt her arms encircle him and, after checking on the food, he turned and wrapped his own arms around her.  She let out a sigh, her breath blowing across his tee-shirt.  Spike smiled and kissed the top of her head. 

“Go sit down, ducks, and I’ll bring you some food when it’s ready,” he said and turned her toward the table. 

Buffy sat, but was too antsy to sit for too long.  This was such a new experience for her, she wanted to move around and expend some of the energy fowling through her.  She got up and walked though Spike’s kitchen, poking into all the nooks and crannies.  Spike watched her but said nothing.  She continued her exploration of his house into the living room.  She’d seen it last night, but not very well and now Buffy wanted to take a better look.  The couch they sat on last night, she blushed at the memory, was under some large windows, covered by shades.  Buffy wanted to look outside, and maybe announce to the world what had happened, so she climbed onto the couch and threw the drapes open.  And screamed. 

Spike heard her scream from the kitchen, and felt his heart stop.  Just like the night in the parking lot, he dropped everything and ran to her.  She had collapsed back onto the couch and was staring at something on the window. 

Spike knelt down beside her.  “Luv, you okay?  What happened?  Pet, tell me what happened.”

Buffy didn’t say anything, she just pointed to the window.  Spike looked up and swore roundly and profusely. 

Taped to the window was a blood-red rose.  The thorns were cut off, and a note was attached to the bottom.  Spike looked at Buffy and spoke quietly and slowly.  “Luv, I’m going to go outside and get the flower.  Then I’m going to call the police.  Okay, luv, just wait here for me.”

Buffy nodded, and Spike gave her a gentle squeeze.  He walked to the door and stepped outside.  It was a beautiful day, the sun was shinning and a slight breeze blew.  Now, however, the day was tainted, soured by some unknown person and their vengeance.  Walking carefully to the window, Spike looked around for anything out of the ordinary.  He felt like a cheap cop imitation, but something had to be done. 

He reached the rose and pulled it away from the window.  Giving Buffy a reassuring look, he pulled the note away from the flower and set it down.  He opened the note and a Polaroid picture fell out.  He glanced at it and cursed again.  It was a picture of him and Buffy caught mid-coitus the night before. 

“Stupid bloody, buggering, pillock.  When I catch you, I’m going to rip you bloody balls off and shove them up your ass,” Spike said as he read the note.  It was  a simple note, but it had his blood running hot. 

I’m impressed, William.