* * * * * Chapter 7: The Morning After * * * * *



A warm glow begins to fill Buffy’s room. Buffy squints her eyes, seeing by the amount of light that it is just after dawn. She begins to stretch, but quickly recoils, flinching. Her hand finds her side quickly, where a low burning pain reminds her of one of the previous night’s events. She turns a bit, trying to get a look at the place she was stabbed. The wound is opened again, and still a bit red around the edges. Buffy freezes, noticing several things all at once. First, she is completely naked. Second, she is covered in small bites and scratches and is incredibly sore in some very interesting places. Third, the cause of the first two things is sound asleep in matching condition next to her, one leg draped over hers. And that cause is none other than Spike.

"Oh, dear god." Buffy covers her mouth as images from last night’s adventures begin rolling through her mind at light speed. Her cheeks flush red. Inexplicably, she also feels a warmth somewhere much lower. She glances at Spike’s rumpled blond curls and has to resist the urge to reach out and run her hand through them. His face at rest is a thing of beauty and she cocks her head, studying him. In all their time fighting and nearly killing each other, she has never seen him at peace like this. Those cheekbones you could cut yourself on, his full, soft lips. The eyes full of blue fire she remembers vividly from last night. A small sigh escapes Buffy, torn between longing and regret. Reluctantly, she pulls her eyes away and looks around the room for a robe. In her shock at waking up entangled with Spike, she did not previously notice the state of her room. Most of the covers from the bed are yanked off and crumpled on the floor. A nightstand is knocked over, lamp broken, closet door off the hinges, cracked mirror, various knick knacks strewn all over the carpet... Buffy shakes her head at the damage as well as her vivid memories of how most of the damage was done. They broke more things than they ever have in a fight. Not to mention the having of a lot more fun.

Finally, she spots her short gray robe draped over a chair in the corner. Now, to disentangle herself. Biting her lip, Buffy tries to slip out from under Spike’s leg. He starts to move and she freezes in place, watching his face closely. Shifting a little, he settles back down, turning his head the other way. Revealing the series of hickeys down the side of his neck. Buffy inwardly groans at her handiwork. Finally, with one continuous movement, she extricates herself from the bed and tip toes towards the corner. She reaches out for the robe and...

" ’Morning. " He’s awake and his voice is like syrup, dripping over her. Buffy freezes, not sure what to do. Then realizing her bare butt is on display, she snatches the robe and throws it on before turning around. "Spoiling the view, Slayer." Taking a deep breath, Buffy turns to see the face she remembers. Smirking, eyebrow lifted at her. She feels that familiar warmth somewhere below her navel at his gaze.

"Sorry." Desperate for distraction, Buffy starts to pick up a few things from the floor. As she bends over, an involuntary gasp slips out and she grabs her side again.

In a flash, Spike is out of bed and by her side. "Bugger all, luv. You’re still hurt. Shouldn’t be out of bed." He winks at her and before she can swallow it, Buffy smiles at him. The smiles turns back to a grimace as another pain shoots up her side.

Slightly out of breath, Buffy manages, "Nice try." She takes another breath and has to bend over at the waist again. "Oh crap, looks like you’re right." Shrugging off his arm for support, Buffy struggles back to the bed and sits down. "Doesn’t usually take me this long to heal...it’s weird."

"Buffy, when’s the last time you...uh..." Spike gestures around the room, his meaning evident. "...immediately after acquiring a knife wound? And, somewhere in the neighborhood of six times?"

The blush returns to Buffy’s cheeks. "Point taken." A weak laugh. "Literally, I guess." More quietly, "Was it six times?" Her blush returns with a vengeance.

He nods before turning his attention back to her injury. "Let’s have a look at it."

Buffy sits up, her voice unnaturally high, "Look at what?!"

Spike gives her an exasperated look. "The injury, pet?"

"Oh, right." Buffy is terrified of letting Spike touch her again. Her self-control in his presence is not of the good. In fact, his current state of nakedness is wreaking havoc on her ability to string sentences together. A voice in her head is telling her she should be throwing him out of her house. However, she can’t even bring herself to throw him out of her bed. Though throwing him ON her bed seems like a fun idea. She shakes her head, coming back to the present situation.

"Lay back." She nods and shimmies up the bed a bit, laying back on her pillow. Spike reaches out, gently untying the sash and sliding the silk apart. His cool fingers brush her stomach, triggering Buffy’s rapid intake of breath. "Not gonna hurt you, luv."

Quietly, Buffy replies, "Not worried about you hurting me." He flicks a look at her, full of telltale signals, but she studiously avoids his gaze. Spike pushes one side of the robe open to see the wound.

"Bloody hell, Slayer. It’s open again. Y’know, I was gonna dress this for you last night...before...um, didn’t it hurt you before now?" Their conversation is strained as they dodge the topic weighing on both their minds.

Still avoiding his piercing blue eyes, Buffy fidgets with the sash of her robe. "Think I was on a bit of adrenaline or something. Like when I’m in a big fight, I don’t feel any pain. Kinda like that... Didn’t feel it ‘til I woke up." Buffy risks a look at Spike, but regrets it immediately. The flush runs right up her neck and into her cheeks. She sees his throat bob as he swallows hard.

"Right." Looking away, she is not prepared for what comes next. Spike’s fingers gingerly touch the area around her stab wound. She flinches, but only from surprise. He is being incredibly gentle, probing the area. "Probably be fine if it gets wrapped up tight. Keep it from opening again. Healing skills like yours...all better in no time."

Buffy realizes that Spike is nervous too. It never occurred to her that he could be. He is also trying not to look at her too much. It is his habit to breathe like a human and she realizes his breaths are a bit short and fast. The muscles in his jaw are twitching.

"Spike?"

"Yes?"

"What happened?"

"You got stabbed, pet. Vampire with a knife? You don’t remember?" He looks at her curiously.

"Not what I mean. What happened here?" With a sweep of her hand, she encompasses the room. For the first time, she sees the discarded clothes out in the hallway too.

Spike lets out a big breath, relief evident that the topic is on the table. "Holy hell, Buffy. I’ve got no soddin’ clue. One minute, I’m heading for my crypt, next minute I’m here. And then..." Again, he looks at her pointedly. "Well, you were there."

"Boy howdy." Buffy strives to contain the enthusiasm that crept into her voice, but Spike picks up on it. His slow grin at her melts some places she was trying to keep solid. "I mean, yes. Present and accounted for. Something, uh, obviously happened to us, ‘cause otherwise we would never..."

"Yeah, definitely. Never." Spike nods, not looking at her. He’s finding it very difficult to not be touching her. The air between them is thick with tension, most of it sexual.

Buffy squeaks, "Not that you’re not..." She can’t finish the sentence.

"Right, and you’re certainly..." He gestures towards her half-revealed body.

"Well, obviously, we can’t ever do that again." Buffy strives for certainty, but her statement comes out more like a question.

"Why not?" Spike turns to her, fire building in his eyes. She squirms.

"Um..because..." Despite the hundreds of reasons flying around her brain, Buffy is having a hard time latching onto one. Her eyes light up, finally, "Because we hate each other!"

"Oh, that." Spike shrugs, looks momentarily defeated.

Buffy frowns. He wasn’t supposed to agree so readily. It has not escaped her attention that Spike is still fully unclothed. His hand is resting absently on her stomach and she feels her skin flaring up from the contact. Seeing her expression, Spike’s face takes on a look of cunning. She’s seen that look before. It becomes slightly hard to breath in the room.

"Well, we hated each other last night and that didn’t stop us, Slayer." His eyes are glinting at her. She’s rarely seen him in anything close to daylight and is now intrigued by the gentle blue of his eyes.

"Truuuuue." Buffy looks at him, eyes flicking down to his mouth and back to his eyes.

"And I am stuck here all day, luv." Spike points at the window. "Sun’s up."

"Yes, yes. You make a good point."

"Let’s not forget, pet. It was bloody amazing." His hand is starting to move, lazy circles on her abdomen. The melting sensation is traveling outward, making her legs get weak.

"Yeah." Softly, Buffy can’t help but agree as he leans down and kisses next to her navel, his eyes burning up at her. She starts to lean forward, but immediately regrets it. "Owwie." Flopping all the way back on the bed, her hand goes to her side. The spell is broken as Spike pops up, concern etched on his face.

"Time for that later, s’pose. Let’s get you fixed up." Spike reaches out a hand and Buffy takes it, sitting up very slowly. "Shower first. Then bandages." His eyes twinkle at her, mischief in the forefront. Buffy looks at him out of the corner of her eyes.

"I’m not sure I can make it on my own, Spike. Help me?" She bats her lashes at him before mentally studying his naked body with her eyes. He looks just as good in the morning as he did last night.

"Abso-bloody-lutely." He gently pushes her in front of him, towards the bathroom. Just as she reaches the door, he snatches the robe off her and gives her butt a playful slap. Giggling, Buffy grabs his hand, yanking him toward the bathroom, her side forgotten for the moment...

 

* * * * * Chapter 8: Hot or Cold? * * * * *



With Spike’s help, Buffy perches on the edge of the bathroom counter, flinching at both the movement and the coolness of the formica. Spike moves to stand between her legs. "Hot or cold?" His smile invites all kinds of comments, but Buffy just throws him a look.

"Hot."

"Your wish..." Spike moves away and leans over the bathtub, turning on the water to get it hot. "Looks like it will take a minute to heat up."

Buffy blurts out, "Doesn’t take me that long." Gasping at her words, Buffy slaps a hand over her mouth in horror. Spike stays immobile where he is, leaning over, but she can almost see a tremor run through him. He turns his head and glances back at her, eyebrows lifted. Her expression is priceless, as she is trapped between burying her head in her hands with embarrassment and grabbing his bare ass just a few feet away. Spike turns back to the bathtub without saying anything. He puts both hands on the edge of the tub and looks down for a few seconds. She can see the muscles in his arms twitch and contract. Finally, with a nearly imperceptible nod, Spike spins and returns to the spot between her legs. His hands immediately go to both sides of Buffy’s face. She drops her hand, the directness of his gaze startling her to attention.

"Buffy. We both know something bloody strange is happening with us, between us. I honestly don’t know what it is, what started it, anything. I do know it’s doing one hell of a number on me, for one. So, I only have one favor to ask."

Silently, Buffy nods, asking him to proceed, shocked and relieved by his revelation. Glad to know she is not the only one continuing to lose control. What seemed right last night is still looking pretty damn good in the light of day. And that scares her. His hands on her face are making it hard to concentrate, but not nearly so hard as feeling his bare legs between hers. She hears the water gushing behind him, the only sound in the room beyond her rapid breathing.

Spike cocks his head at her, one side of his mouth twitching up. "Don’t tease me unless you mean it."

Distracted momentarily from the shower at hand, Buffy pulls Spike’s hands off her face and leans forward, her mouth less than an inch from his ear. If not for his vampiric hearing, he would not even hear her words, but he does.

"I mean it." The hot breath warms his skin as she takes his earlobe between her teeth. Spike jumps slightly, but recovers quickly. His hands shoot around her waist to steady himself, deftly avoiding her injury in the process. Her tender lips move down, placing a kiss just below his ear. And a trail of them down his neck, dusting gently over the violent red marks she left last night in a more frenetic state. She is almost apologizing for the hickeys with every brush of her lips. Turning her head, she finds the hollow of his neck and presses her mouth there briefly.

Pulling her head back, her eyes meet his baby blues. Seeing her hooded but clear eyes softens Spike’s expression considerably. She is all there and aware of what she is doing. No question of alcohol or flights of nighttime fancy. It is morning and her lips still seek his. His notions of continuing to hate her are having a tough time finding anchor. He can’t understand the turnabout from last night, but Dru’s words in Brazil come back to haunt him. ‘You’re all covered with her. I look at you...all I see is the Slayer.’ He came back to Sunnydale to kill her, get the Slayer out of his system once and for all. Only this last time, he got the soddin’ chip in his head. Now, he can’t kill her. And well, turns out he doesn’t really want to. Spike grimaces, damn Dru. Crazy, but knowing. It goes against all things about being a vampire, but he really doesn’t want the Slayer dead.

Her brow is slightly knitted as she watches him deep in thought. The tightness in his mouth releases as he pushes these thoughts back down. Time to worry about what this will all lead to, if anything, later. Much later. Right now, he has a warm, naked and apparently willing Buffy in his arms. Best to stay in the moment.

Steam covers the mirror in the bathroom and is starting to cloud the room. He jerks his head towards the shower, "Shall we?"

Buffy swallows, eyes going wild for just a second. Brief moments of what-the-hell-am-I-doing keep interrupting her fun. She quickly squelches this hesitation and holds out her hand. "We, huh? Thought you were just helping me?"

"Where better to help you?" Eyes twinkling, he helps her off the counter. He puts his hand into the water, making sure it is not too hot, before stepping under the stream. Buffy clutches his other hand even tighter as she watches the water course down his body, dipping into every curve and swell. Those nagging voices in her head shut up in the face of this display. Finally ripping her eyes of his sculpted torso, she meets his gaze. Somehow his blue eyes look dark when he wants her...and he does want her. Still holding his hand, she takes the first step into the stall. She shivers as the first stream of hot water hits her back. Facing him, she arches back, letting the hot water soak her hair.

Spike finds it very difficult to not slam her against the wall and have his way as she presses her breasts towards him with this movement. Rivulets of water come over her shoulders, running down her chest. He follows one with his eyes as it courses between her breasts, through her navel before disappearing between her legs. He shudders. She stands back up, hair slicked back, face already flushed from the heat in the room. Or something else? Spike leans closer, watching the effect on her face with interest, but then leans past her, grabbing the soap and a washcloth from the rack behind her. Holding them up for her inspection, he cocks an eyebrow. Buffy lets her tongue slip out to wet her lips, and nods.

Spike rubs the soap into the washcloth, watching her the whole time. Buffy can feel the heat of the water bringing the blood to the surface of her skin and the heat from his presence is only making her skin more sensitive. So sensitive that when he finally touches her with the wet, soapy washcloth, she can’t hold in a gasp.

"Okay, luv?" His voice is deep and close and makes her want to dissolve into him.

"Ye-yes." Spike’s hand moves the washcloth over her shoulders, his touch lightening when he crosses indications of last night’s fun. Scratches, small bites. He allows himself a small smile as he remembers giving her these marks in the heat of passion. His chip never went off. Not once. He hasn’t figured that out yet, but maybe it has something to do with intent. He wraps the cloth around Buffy’s arm and drags it down, leaving soap bubbles behind. The water quickly flows after, washing her clean. He repeats this with the other arm. She is immobile, watching his every move. He can feel her hazel eyes burning into him. Her heat is intoxicating; it rolls off her in waves. Spike lightly works the cloth around her injury, removing the dried blood with his left hand. The right hand goes to her other hip, holding her still for his attention.

As he begins to soap her breasts, Buffy moves a step closer to him, bringing her inches from his body. Her bronze skin glistens with foam and water as she slowly presses against him, soft breasts crushing against his firm chest. Spike’s breath catches in his throat as she makes contact. She takes the cloth from his hand and squeezes it over his chest. The soapy liquid runs between them, coating them both. Lifting her eyes to his, Buffy reaches around and gives the cloth another squeeze over his back. He can feel the trailing water down his back and now her hand. She drops the cloth and traces his spine with her fingers. Spike has both hands on her hips now, holding her to him in the sauna of the shower. His hair has gone curly in the damp and she reaches up with her other hand and gently musses it, smiling at him. As her hand leaves his hair, it slides down to cup his cheek, drawing him down to her. Their lips meet, hot water still flowing over both them as they back under the stream of the shower.

Buffy flinches slightly as she feels the cool tile behind her, but the steam coming off her body quickly warms it. Spike moves in closer, pressing her against the wall by his hand on her hip. The other hand slips lower, circling on her navel for a few seconds.

"Oh god." Buffy remembers her vivid dream of just 24 hours before. She was in the shower then, alone, but she imagined Spike. Doing exactly what he is doing now. Only it’s better than the dream. So much better live and in person. His fingers slip lower, dipping slowly into her. She lifts off the ground on her tiptoes as he slides in a second finger. His mouth dives for hers, warm and supple against her. The artificial heat he has from the hot water throws Buffy for a loop. Easy to pretend he is 100% living and breathing. His body warm against hers, his breath against her neck as he moves down to kiss her there. His fingers are moving in and out of her slowly, now more quickly. She is slick from both the water and arousal and he adds a third finger with ease. Bringing his face up again, Spike leans forward and presses his forehead against hers, their eyes focused on only each other. His hand moves even more quickly and his thumb exerts a repeated pressure on her clit. Buffy begins to breathe through her mouth as he sends her higher and higher, closer and closer with every thrust. Her eyes start to slip closed, but the squeeze from Spike’s hand on her hip gets her attention.

"Look at me, luv. Keep looking at me." She bites her lip and keeps her eyes on his. The connection is intense. Too intense. She squirms a bit. There is something naked in his eyes, more than lust, and she is scared. Scared he can see it in her eyes, too. He will not relent though. His voice drops even lower and quieter.

"Don’t look away, Buffy." Using her real name still makes Buffy jump to attention. Somehow, the way he says it is so intimate, so private. As if Buffy was her name for his use only. Despite her fear, Buffy keeps her eyes open. His pace increases and she starts to breathe out small sounds, gasps and moans. Waves of sensation wash over her and the sounds grow louder as she comes, full force. Her knees buckle, but Spike has her, his arm wrapped around her waist. With a nearly audible snap, Buffy breaks their eye contact by going in for a kiss. Wet and warm, his mouth melts and invites her tongue in. She explores him thoroughly with her darting tongue. Finally, out of breath, she pulls back and leans against the shower wall, welcoming the additional support.

Still breathing hard, Buffy manages, "I think we may be clean enough for now."

Spike looks at the delicate girl in front of him, so full of hidden power. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair wild and wet, her whole body gleaming with soap and water.

He can’t get enough. He smiles at his Slayer. "For now."



 

* * * * * Chapter 9: Exposure * * * * *

Spike pulls a white fluffy towel off the shelf and unfolds it. The room is still warm from the steamy shower, but Buffy welcomes him wrapping her in the towel, gently massaging her dry. Taking great care not to rub her wound, he snugs her up in the towel before reaching for one himself. Buffy smiles, a slow, contented smile as she watches him rub his hair half-dry and then briskly dry his body with the soft towel. He looks up as he feels her gaze, wrapping the towel around his waist.

"Alright, luv. Let me bandage up your side before anything else...happens." Spike winks at her and opens the door to the bathroom. He steps out into the hallway, still watching Buffy as she wraps a towel around her wet head.

"Buffy, is that you? I got worried when you didn’t - Ack! Not Buffy! Not Buffy!" Willow stumbles as she reaches the top of the stairs, and covers her eyes as she squeals.

Momentarily taken aback by Willow’s appearance, Spike recovers quickly, " ‘ello, Red."

Eyes still covered, Willow whispers, "Uh, Sp-Spike?? What are you - I thought you - does Buffy know you’re here in her house? And naked?" Her voice pitches higher on the last word as her cheeks turn even redder.

"Not naked, got a towel on. And yes." Spike crosses his arms in front of his chest and can’t help but chuckle at the witch’s reaction.

"What’s going on out here? Spike, who are you - Willow!" Buffy steps out into the hallway behind Spike, eyes wide.

"Buffy!" Willow uncovers her eyes, mouth hanging open. "Again with the towel! Isn’t anyone here wearing clothes besides me?!" She slaps her hand over her eyes again.

"Uh, Willow. What are you doing - why - oh, this is not good." Spike stands between the two girls, waiting to see what will happen next. Buffy turns to him and points at her room, "In the bedroom. Now!"

"Buffy, luv, don’t you think you should talk to Willow before we -" He jerks his head at her room, eyebrows lifted, a grin on his face.

"Argh! Spike! GO before I stake your undead ass!"

Spike lifts his hands in surrender, "Going, going. No need to threaten a dusty end, pet."

Meanwhile, Willow can be heard muttering under her breath. "Can’t be. Buffy. Spike. Slayer. Vampire. With the hating, they can’t be...oh god. Buffy?"

Shoving Spike towards her room and shutting the door behind him, Buffy comes over to Willow. Gently, she pulls her hands away from her eyes.

"Wait! Is Spike still here - with the chest and the..."

"He’s gone for now, Will. Let’s go downstairs." Willow looks at Buffy, her green eyes wide and nods.

Buffy and Willow end up in the living room on the couch. Buffy adjusts her towel, trying to cover herself as much as possible to settle Willow’s nerves.

Eyes wild, Willow gestures up the stairs and at Buffy, "Buffy! What the - what is he doing here? What happened? Please give me a plausible reason that has nothing to do with sweaty nakedness. Please?" Buffy dips her head, avoiding Willow’s eye contact. "Okay, give me an implausible reason. I’ll believe it - promise! Like his clothes caught on fire and you were forced to strip him and give him a towel, for modesty’s sake. And then your clothes were all sooty, so you got the towel..." Her voice trails off.

Buffy’s mind is swirling. She wants him, is still imagining his hands on her body, but Willow’s presence is making her more and more confused. It’s true, she is supposed to hate him. She has many reasons. Not the least of which is that he’s tried to kill the very girl, her best friend, sitting across from her. Buffy shakes her head, willing her thoughts to fit back together in a sensible manner, with no luck.

"Will...I..can’t explain it. I’ll try."

Willow nods furiously, waiting for the explanation.

"Spike and I had sex." Buffy shrugs at Willow, deciding not to soften the blow. "A bunch of times."

"Ay! Buffy! That is not an explanation. That is a statement. And a statement that is making me woozy. I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down."

"Not the point, young lady! What are you thinking? It’s SPIKE! Vampire! Evil vampire! Grrr!" Willow waves her hands around emphatically.

"Will, I know. It’s weird and bizarre and I really can’t offer any good reasons, except it feels right and amazing. I’ve been so unhappy since...well, since Angel left. He is making me feel like myself again. All fight-y and peppy. Go me?" Buffy tries a little inspirational punch in the air, but Willow is too distracted to notice.

"Oh, it’s my fault, isn’t it? Aftershocks from my do-thy-will spell? Will I ever make up for that damn spell? My will should never be done!"

"Willow!" Buffy takes Willow by the shoulders and shakes her lightly. "Pay attention to me." Buffy has a moment of absolute clarity, which is almost as scary as the confusion. Willow wiggles a little, but finally relaxes enough to meet Buffy’s eyes. "Okay? Okay. Whatever is going on between me and Spike - I don’t think it is your fault and I don’t think it has anything to do with the spell. I’m not saying there couldn’t be some weird mojo going on, but I’m still me. I am fully aware of what I am doing. And so is he. We’re not getting married or planning to raise little blond half-vamps, okay?" Willow nods, swallowing hard and opening her mouth. "Ah-ah! Not done yet. Whatever this is, it has made me feel truly alive, Will. I...I...can I just enjoy that? Please?" Buffy’s eyes are pleading. Willow opens her mouth, but closes it again. Buffy nods. "Go ahead. I’m done for now."

"Oh, Buffy." She sighs. "I understand. When Oz left, I was...well, you saw me. Devastated." Her eyes dart down to the floor. "I do understand wanting that warm and fuzzy feeling again, but Buffy. Are you sure? Spike? He can give you that feeling?"

"And how, Will." The warmth in Buffy’s core is starting to return as they talk about Spike. Slightly dulled by Willow’s surprise appearance, her craving for him is growing by the second. "I’m not sure of anything, Will. Only that I really want him. Like, all the time. In fact, right now, I want him. I can’t stop thinking about him upstairs in my bedroom alone. Am I awful?" Buffy blushes, her cheeks gone pink.

"No, Buffy, you’re normal." Willow lets a smile slip out. "I mean, I don’t have eons of experience to rely on, but I think his top half was on the yummy side. Guessing the rest matches up?"

"Willow!!" Buffy is genuinely shocked. Sometimes it is hard to remember that Willow is not the girl she met four years ago, meek and mild. Still quirky, but she has seen something of the world now. She cocks her head at her friend. "And yes, ma’am. It certainly does. But still, shock!" Buffy points at her face, where the shock still lingers.

"Oh, Buffy. We don’t always make the...wisest of choices, but they are our choices to make. I just want you safe. Don’t get hurt?"

"Like he could hurt me, Will. Slayer, ‘member?"

"That’s not the kind of hurt I’m talking about, Buff." Her forehead is creased as she gives Buffy a serious look. "Oh, and don’t tell Xander, for goodness sake. If you do, give me a warning so I can reach minimum safe distance, ‘kay?" Her green eyes twinkle in amusement.

Buffy lunges forward, hugging Willow around the neck. "This. THIS is why I adore you, Willow. Don‘t worry, I‘ll be fine."

"Whoa, towel, Buffy!" Buffy sits back, pulling the towel back up. "I should...uh...go. I just got worried when you didn’t come home last night, so here I am. You’re a big girl, Buffy. I can’t say I really understand the whys of this thing with Spike, but at least his chip doesn’t go away when he gets a happy, eh?"

Buffy nods. "It’s true. ‘Cause if so, the chip would be going going gone. I’m really sorry I made you worry. Try not to, okay? I have to...see what happens here. I just have to. I can’t explain it."

Willow studies Buffy. "Are you...sure it’s not a spell?"

"I’m not sure, no. Do you think you could check into it, to be on the safe side? Something that makes you extra lusty? Only just towards him. I mean, he’s the one that sets it off. And I do mean off."

"Okay, no more details. I’m trying to be support-o-gal, but let‘s not test it, okay?" Willow holds her hand up in the universal signal of stop now. "This is risky business you’re in, so watch yourself. I’ll get in research mode and let you know what I find out." Willow stands up and heads for the front door. "Only next time, I’m calling first." She waves and heads out.

Buffy sits on the couch, mind spinning. The tingling she has been feeling has spread to her extremities. She pictures Spike upstairs in her room, naked, and has to swallow hard, getting dizzy. She mutters to herself, "Must get to him."

"No worries, luv. I’m right here." Startled, she glances up to find herself looking right into Spike’s stormy eyes. She looks at the hand he is offering and stands up with him. In one smooth motion, he pulls her up and drops her towel at the same time. She is suddenly pressed against his cool chest, skin to skin. He leans down to take her lips in his, just as the front door opens again.

"Oh dear god! Five seconds, people! I‘ve been gone for five seconds!" Willow shrieks, covering her eyes again. "Forgot my bag! Buffy, can you give it to me, if you’re not too naked, I mean, busy?!!" Shifting from foot to foot, Willow waits by the door.

With a deep chuckle, Spike snatches up her backpack from the couch and gently puts it in her outstretched hand. "There you go, luv. Anything else?"

Her voice reaches its highest pitch. "No, no. Th-thanks, Spike. Bye Buffy!" Without uncovering her eyes, she fumbles for the doorknob and slips back out, mumbling the whole time.

When Willow is out the door, Spike reaches for the knob and turns the lock. He looks back at Buffy, who has collapsed, laughing, on the couch. "Now where were we?"

Buffy looks at him, eyes still twinkling but quickly turning smoky, "Come here and I’ll show you." She wiggles her index finger at him. With a quick grin, Spike returns to Buffy’s arms, dropping his unneeded towel on the way.


 

* * * * * Chapter 10: Hunger * * * * *



A low rumble disturbs the quiet of the room. Moaning, Buffy wakes up and puts her hand on her stomach.

"Luv, was that your stomach?" Spike lifts his head, expression caught between wonder and amusement.

"Yeah, so? I’m a growing girl. And I’m hungry." She pokes Spike in the chest as she scrambles off the couch and him.

With her weight off him, he sits up on his elbow, eyebrow raised. "Where are you going? You were keeping me warm."

"Nice try, Spike. You don’t need to be kept warm." Buffy puts one hand on her hip, giving Spike a look .

"Alright, not the point. But you’re all soft...and bloody cute when you sleep..."

Buffy smiles but his attempt fails. "Again with the nice try, Spike, but I need to eat. Food, I need food. You’ve heard of it, right? A girl cannot live on lov-... sex alone. Cannot live on sex."

Spike purses his lip, halfway to a pout. "Could try."

She leans back down, bites his bottom lip as she smiles at him. "Come, keep me company. Are you...hungry?" She can’t even bear the thought of him being in a different room from her.

His eyes meet hers sharply but he shakes his head. "No, pet, I’m alright."

" ‘Cause I’ve got blood in the fridge, if you need it."

"Wha-?" For one of the few times in his undead existence, Spike is nearly speechless.

Buffy hesitates, feeling rather uncomfortable at his staring. "It’s for emergencies. A good Slayer is prepared for every eventuality. Even sexy, hungry vampires." She winks at Spike and wraps the discarded towel around herself. As she disappears into the kitchen, Spike slumps back onto the coach, absorbing the last few minutes. He supposes she got in the habit when Angel was here. But still, somehow, whether she meant it or not, he is touched. And hey, she called him sexy. He grins and with a bow to modesty, wraps himself back up in his towel.

Spike walks into the kitchen and is greeted by the terrycloth-covered bottom of his favorite Slayer as she fishes around in the fridge for lunch. Slipping silently up behind, he presses against her and grabs her waist. She squeals in surprise and accidentally tosses a yogurt straight up in the air. With the grace he’s developed over a hundred years and his inherent speed, Spike snatches it out of the air and sets it on the counter.

"Buffy, you could just hand those things to me. You throw food like that and you’re bound to make a mess."

Still breathing hard, Buffy turns on him. "Oooh, you. Don’t scare me!" She playfully slaps him on his bare chest. Her brain churns, wondering at how she and Spike can play when they are supposed to dislike each other so. But just being with him for the last twelve hours has done something to her. And more than just make her so sore she walks gingerly. She has started to appreciate his personality like she never let herself before. Still, she’s supposed to want him dusty, not learn to like his finer points. Argh. And now, she finds that she hasn’t take her hand off his chest where she slapped him. The heat is building between them. Again. She pulls the hand back as if burned, turning back to the fridge. Her stomach demands that she hold back her urges for at least a few minutes. Spike steps back, leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, enjoying the show. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, wavy and tousled from air-drying while they christened the couch. She is soft around the edges, not the hard Slayer she can be. The towel covers her from breasts to thighs, but he knows every inch hidden beneath the soft white towel. Spike is having an increasingly difficult time not getting up and throwing her against the nearest available hard surface for a shag. As Buffy continues to rummage through the fridge, he begins to assess the kitchen for ravaging potential, his mind working overtime. Countertop...about the right height for her to sit on. Fridge...would work though they would likely knock off the magnets and to do lists. Island...a bit high unless they got all the way on top. His eyes flick to the tile floor...cold, hard but always effective.

"Spike? Hello?" Startled, he lifts his eyes to see Buffy, arms full of jars and containers, studying him. A flicker of amusement in her eyes makes him wonder if his intentions are that obvious. They would only be if she was thinking the same thing.

"Oh, uh, let me help you." He starts to get up, but she leans on the counter, letting it all spill out onto the island. "Bloody hell, pet. You weren’t kidding about being hungry." Spike leans out and grabs a jar of mayo before it hits the floor.

"I really wasn’t. I’ve worked up one hell of an appetite. Sure you don‘t want anything?" Buffy smiles as she turns to grab the bread off the counter and a few things from drawers and cabinets around the kitchen.

Spike’s eyes roll to the ceiling. Does he want anything? What kind of question is that? He wants her to forget this eating business and get over here. "Never said that, Slayer." His words are thick with double meaning.

She laughs. "Anything to eat? Food-wise?" Amazingly, she doesn’t tell him to shut up, like she would have two days ago. Instead, she actually laughs.

He watches her, moving surely and quickly. She makes a ham and cheese sandwich and leans on the counter to eat it. Her position reveals her cleavage and Spike certainly notices. He tries to look away, tries to avoid her eyes, but he can’t. She keeps her eyes locked on his, across the island, as she takes bite after bite. About halfway through her sandwich, she stands up, finally breaking away from his smoldering eyes. Spike’s grip on the counter loosens slightly as he strives to maintain control, trying to let her eat before he feels that warm body in his arms again.

"Mmm, thirsty...let’s see..." After a trip to the fridge and a cabinet, she pours herself a huge glass of milk. She holds it up to Spike, as a toast, "Does a body good!"

"Damn right. Didn’t know I could thank milk for that body." Spike’s offhand comment makes Buffy almost spit out her milk in the middle of her big gulp. She manages to swallow and set the glass back on the counter. Spike continues to watch her from across the island, face lit up with humor at the effectiveness of his comment.

"Oh crap! How could I forget!" Buffy turns on her heel and starts opening cabinet doors, muttering to herself. "I sure hope she still keeps some here. Oh c’mon Mom!" She opens more doors ‘til, "Ah-HA! Gotcha!" She spins triumphantly with her prize. A bottle of Hershey’s chocolate syrup.

Spike raises his eyebrows but says nothing.

"I just love chocolate milk, can’t believe I almost forgot. Mom always used to make this for me growing up." Buffy pops the top open with her teeth and starts to pour the syrup into her milk, swirling it around and around. Looking up, she sees Spike eying her with interest. Twisting the bottle, she starts to set it upright. Catching the drip with her index finger, she says to the curious Spike, "Haven’t you ever had this?" She starts to bring her finger to her mouth, but suddenly, Spike is there at her side.

His voice is deeper, husky. "No, let me try it, luv." He takes her hand, where the syrup is starting to run down her finger. Stretching out his tongue, he catches the chocolate at the base of her finger and slowly, he drags his tongue back up, watching her the whole time. Buffy starts to wonder if it is all of a sudden very much too hot in the kitchen. Reaching her fingertip, Spike takes her whole finger into his mouth. She can feel his tongue washing her clean, getting every last drop of chocolate. Finally, he reluctantly pulls her finger from his mouth and lets her have her hand back.

"Delicious." His voice is warm, vibrating with lust. His eyes on hers make it hard to concentrate and she’s not altogether sure if he’s referring to the chocolate.

Feeling her face beginning to flush, she takes his hand in hers. "Isn’t it, though?" Upending the bottle, she pours a long stripe across the palm off his hand. He groans as her warm, pink tongue drags across, carefully licking up the syrup. She wets her top lip with her tongue afterwards, looking at him through her lashes. "You were right. Very tasty."

Suddenly, Spike’s hand goes to the back of her head and pulls her in for a brusing kiss. He tastes the chocolate still on her tongue as he presses harder, his tongue going to meet hers. Finally, she pulls away, slightly breathless.

"So, what did you decide, countertop or floor?" Her eyes gleam with mischief as Spike realizes his earlier thoughts were truly transparent. A slow grin stretches across his face, matching hers. That’s his girl.

"Lady’s choice."


 

* * * * * Chapter 11: Just a Taste * * * * *



"Oooh, ooh! I think she should pick the countertop! What about you, honey?" Psyche squeals, clapping her hands.

Cupid grins at his love. "Well, there are upsides to both, dear. Floor, nice and secure, hard to fall down if you‘re already down, eh? But the countertop, well, it’s exciting and different. Oh wait, I think she’s made up her mind..."

***

With a sinister grin, Buffy replies, "Countertop."

***

"Ha ! I knew it ! Let him do most of the work, dearie!" Psyche grins wildly at Cupid.

***

Spike growls low in his throat and grabs her around the waist, lifting her off the ground. With a quick movement, he places her on the countertop with her legs dangling off the front. He dives back for her lips as he stands between her knees, hands resting on her thighs. She moans as his fingers dig into her flesh, struggling for control. Breaking contact with his lips, Buffy nips at Spike’s earlobe, her tongue tracing the outside edge, hot and insistent.

She breathes into his ear, "Still hungry, Spike. The syrup?" Shivering from her warm breath on his skin, Spike reaches behind him and grabs the bottle from the island to hand it to her. Meanwhile, Buffy continues to kiss her way down his neck, her hand on his cool chest. Bottle in hand, she leans back and meets his dark blue eyes. She holds it above their heads and squeezes. A long stream of chocolate drips down Spike’s bare chest. Startled, he starts to open his mouth but only emits a long groan as Buffy dives to his chest. He feels the slick path of her tongue as she catches the chocolate at its lowest point. Pressing with her warm, wet tongue, she slowly traces up his chest, capturing the sweet syrup. The tip of her tongue teases his nipple as she gathers up a drip. Spike throws his head back, his grip on her thighs tightening even further. Satisfied with her work on his chest, Buffy leans back and pours chocolate onto her hand. It runs down her fingers in random patterns. Keeping her eyes focused on his, she extends her pink tongue and begins to clean her fingers, one by one. Spike’s eyes dip down to follow her tongue up and down her fingers. He swallows hard as she slides one finger all the way in her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure. Hand fully clean, she holds the bottle toward him.

"Want another taste, Spike?"

He reaches out and wraps his hand around hers and the bottle. "You know I do, pet. Never satisfied." Still clutching her hand with one of his, he uses the other hand to whip her towel open, revealing her completely naked body . Almost simultaneously, he tips the bottle and lets it pour down her chest in several places, watching the slow rivulets of chocolate make their way down her bronzed skin. Licking his lips, he takes the bottle and sets it on the counter. "Look at the mess I made, luv. Shall I?"

Speechless in anticipation of his mouth on her body, Buffy nods, skin flushing. His tongue firm and probing, Spike leans down to her breast, lapping up the chocolate there before taking her nipple in, rolling it around in his mouth. Buffy twitches, her hands going to his shoulders for support. Methodically, with maddening patience, Spike touches her hot skin with his cool tongue, teasing both breasts as Buffy’s breathing increases. Leaning back, his job almost completed, Spike delivers a devastating smile as he runs his thumb across one of her nipples, collecting a bit of sweet syrup. Buffy’s eyes go to his thumb and he holds it up to her parted lips. Her tongue darts out, wetting the skin and taking the bit of chocolate from his thumb. Baring her blunt teeth, Buffy bites into the pad of his thumb, bringing her eyes to his. His throat bobs as he feels the twinge of pain in his thumb. She broke the skin slightly. She knows just what to do to get his full and undivided attention. He flinches as he feels her suck on the skin there, drawing a small amount of blood out. Unconsciously, his eyes flick to her neck and the blood he can see, can hear pumping there. God, for a taste. His mouth feels suddenly dry and he thinks maybe he should take Buffy’s offer of some blood before he loses complete control and bites her. That would certainly destroy everything.

"Um, Buffy?" Struggling to re-focus her eyes, she meets his gaze. Her brow furrows slightly. "S’pose I could still get that blood from you? Having a...uh...hard time concentrating." Spike is reluctant to admit that he is craving her blood, for fear she will believe he wants to hurt her. Hurting her is the furthest thing from his mind now, though it was at the top of his list two days ago. Funny how things turn on a dime.

She concentrates on him, studying his expression. She sees the strain of control in the muscles of his face, his neck, in fact, his entire body. She lets a minute pass before answering him.

***

"No way." Psyche’s voice drops to a whisper. "You don’t think...she wouldn’t... Cupid, love, did you shoot them again?"

Cupid’s eyes are wide, watching the interaction between his two subjects. "No, my dear. Only the lust arrows."

"Then why? Why would she...trust him with such a thing? I mean...whoa. Do you think she will really?"

"It’s starting to look that way."

***

"Sure, you can get it." Buffy’s voice takes on a strange quality, intense and rough. Reluctant to leave her warmth, Spike starts to step out from between her legs to reach the fridge, silently cursing himself for having to interrupt them. Suddenly, her knees clamp together, pinning him there.

"Buffy...what are you doing... I’m sorry, luv. I just need a taste." He looks at her, wondering if she’s mad at him, remembering that he’s a vampire and her previous interest in staking him.

"And I said you could have one." Her eyes are deep and unfathomable. Buffy’s hands reach out and take his. She places his left hand on her hip, then takes the right hand and guides it to her hair. Still confused, Spike cocks his head at her. Why won’t she let him go? She makes his hand gently push her hair back away from her neck, shivering from the cool contact on her hot skin and Spike’s eyes widen dramatically. He starts backwards, but her Slayer strength prevents him from getting away.

"Slayer! What are you playing at?" He can feel his skin begin to vibrate in anticipation and fear.

"I think you know. And I’m not playing."

"But...you can’t mean. You want me to...?" Spike shakes his head slightly at her, disbelieving. The Slayer, Buffy, is offering him her blood? A taste of the most intoxicating nectar on this planet?

"I do mean and I do want." She purses her lips in a pretty pout. "You don’t want to? It sure seemed like you did."

Spike swallows, his voice drops. "Buffy, I want to. God, I can’t even begin to tell you. But I can’t. No way."

Now her expression clouds over. "And why the hell not? Not good enough for you?"

"Oh Jesus, pet. I just don’t think you realize what you are offering me. If I..." He stumbles over the words and the concept. "...bite you...what if I can’t stop?"

"You will. If you can’t, I’ll make you. I am the Slayer, remember."

"But Buffy...why?" His chest heaving, Spike keeps his hand tangled in her blond hair as he watches her.

"Can we not talk why? Because I want you to, okay? Isn’t that enough?"

Spike bites his lip, wondering at this creature in his arms. The tough Slayer facade is gone, replaced by a still powerful, but vulnerable girl. And she wants him. All of him. He nods.

"Promise not to stake me?"

"Promise not to kill me?"

He smiles. Only the two of them could joke about a matter of life and death. "It’s a deal." Spike stands still, eyes on hers, almost afraid to move. Finally, in slow motion, he leans forward and gently presses his lips to hers, running his tongue over her bottom lip. She opens her mouth, sending her tongue out to meet his, gently. The temperature begins to rise between them. His hand grips her hip tighter as he feels her hands run up his chest and then down again, lightly raking the skin. She does it again, harder, and he smells the blood well up on his skin. A low growl emanates from his chest. Buffy is drawing him out, elevating things quickly. She breaks contact with his lips, kisses his jaw bone, moving towards his ear.

She speaks quiet and low. "Want me to go first?" Before he can figure out what she means, Buffy quickly sinks her dull teeth into his neck. Hard. He starts at the sensation, but is also immediately aroused beyond all reason. He feels the bones in his face shift and his teeth elongate.

"Bloody hell, pet." His voice is cracking, but it is the point of no return. As she continues to suck on his skin, bringing the blood to the surface, he bends to her throbbing warm neck. With a delicacy he did not know he possessed, Spike kisses the skin of her neck first. He takes a deep and unneeded breath before letting the tips of his fangs touch against her skin, pressing but not piercing.

She releases his neck long enough to whisper into his ear, breath hot and urgent.

"Do it."

In the same breath, Spike sinks his teeth into her neck in one smooth movement. His world begins to swim almost immediately. Her warm blood flows into his mouth, filled with a power and sweetness beyond measure. It is pure intoxication. The strong pounding rhythm of her heart echoes in his brain as he continues to draw in her hot essence.

Buffy, surprised at how little it hurts, can feel her heart beating in her ears. His cool lips are against her neck and she logically knows his teeth are in her, but it is not what she is concentrating on. Her eyes wide open, she rests the side of her head on his shoulder, allowing him wide access to her neck. She watches his throat, sees the artery pumping in his neck, realizing her blood is filling it, coursing through him, warming him from the inside out. This is why she wanted him to bite her. To fill him like he filled her. Her need to be as close to him as possible is both comforting and overwhelming. Lost in her reverie, Buffy realizes she is becoming lightheaded. The blood is flowing fast and thick from her jugular and her conscious mind tells her there is a limit. She needs to stop him before that limit is reached. She lifts her mouth to his ear and bites his lobe as hard as she can. He flinches but does not release her. She whispers into his ear.

The blood is pounding, filling him with a life force of incredible proportions. Spike knows he has to stop, is still conscious that he is biting Buffy, but it is so hard to let go. Of her warmth, her passion, her life, all being passed to him in her blood. He feels her nip his ear and realizes it is a warning. Her voice fills his head.

"Spike, love. Stop." The word love gets as much attention as the word stop in his dizzy mind. Perhaps he imagined that part. But wait, stop. He has to stop. With a supreme effort, Spike takes a breath and pulls back from her sharply. The roaring in his ears begins to dim as he separates from Buffy. Knowing he is still in game face, Spike ducks his head. Her hand goes to his face, lifting it. Buffy’s warm fingers trace down his sharp features, smoothing them with her touch. His face relaxes into his human guise, and the expression of worry is pronounced.

"Are you okay? I think...I didn’t take too much?" Her gaze is glazed and warm, slightly distant.

"No, no. I’m okay. Bit on the dizzy side but I’m fine. Really. And you?" She smiles at him, trembling slightly.

"Cor, pet. You are...thank you." He takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing her palm softly.

***

"Cupid! What the...what is going on here? They are falling for each other already? Am I right?" Psyche paces by the pool, smiling, unable to take her eyes off the scene below her.

"It’s true, love. I can’t explain it...of course, I have rarely dosed any two people with that much lust. Maybe it’s clouding their judgment. And then there’s the fact that neither one is exactly ‘normal.’ This game of yours is getting better all the time, sweetie." Cupid stands up and grabs her around the waist, stopping her pacing. "Why don’t we leave them alone a bit longer, see what happens? I’ll give them until nightfall. Then we’ll see..."

 

* * * * * Chapter 12: Wait and See * * * * *



Spike and Buffy stare into each other’s eyes, immobilized by emotion and confusion.

"Sp...Spike. Is it just me or was that really, really..."

"Intense?" Spike nods as he finishes her sentence. With a sharp movement, they release each other and Spike steps away, backing into the kitchen island and stopping, watching her. "I mean...that was...I, well, look at me, I can’t talk properly and you know that’s not normal." He can still feel her hot blood flowing through him, making it truly hard to concentrate.

"It’s true." Buffy almost whimpers. Spike is too far away. The sting of his bite on her neck is barely noticeable to her fevered brain. "Do you have any explanation for this....this?" Buffy waves her hand between their still naked bodies, her breath still coming short. "And for why can’t I stop wanting you?" She reaches her hand out towards him.

Spike, feeling the same compulsion, grabs her hand and yanks her off the countertop, pulling her body against his. "No, luv. I can only say I feel the same way."

She cocks her head to the side, looking up at him. His hard body against hers derails all trains of thought. "I’ve already lost interest in analyzing it. This may not be normal, but it sure feels good..." A sly smile on her face, Buffy’s hands slip around Spike, sliding lower and lower. "Speaking of feeling good..." She squeezes a little and Spike jumps. Recovering quickly, he lowers his voice and his lips. Dragging her to breathlessness with his kiss, Spike hooks his hands under Buffy’s thighs and lifts. She firmly clamps her legs around his waist and locks hand around his neck. "Oh god, Spike. I have to have you. Now."

"Couldn’t have said it better myself." Spike turns and slams Buffy against the fridge. Bits of paper are dislodged by Buffy’s body. Adjusting slightly, Spike drives into her sharply with one full thrust. Lifted against the slick surface, Buffy cries out, her body desperately trying to absorb even more sensation. Her hands flail out against the fridge, wiping magnets, lists and pictures to the floor. Hearing the clatter as the magnets hit the floor and watching paper flutter by, Spike grins broadly. His thoughts on sex against the fridge were right on target. Ticker tape parade.

As Spike begins to thrust into her, Buffy is forced to grab ahold of his neck again. Spike slides one hand up on the fridge for balance as the other clutches Buffy to him. Sweat slicks the surface of her skin as they fall into a familiar rhythm, smooth and steady. Rough, then gentle, building the moment with each stroke, each cry, each kiss. Spike starts to shake as he feels the pressure mounting throughout his body. He bends to her neck, his tongue gently licks the already-closing wound. Her skin hyper-sensitive, Buffy shudders, the sensation wavering between pleasure and pain in maddening fashion. He moves his cool lips to the other side of her neck, delicately nipping his way down the column, tasting her salty skin, glistening with exertion. Spike concentrates on not coming just yet, trying to prolong the sensation. He feels Buffy’s breath on his face, as she tries to speak between thrusts. He slows, calming his raging body so he can meet her gaze. Her hazel eyes are dark in this light, unreadable. "Floor, Spike. Floor." His eyebrows pinch together for a second, trying to fathom what she means.

Then he realizes. He backs away from the fridge, slowing their movements for a few moments. He carefully sits down on the tile, her body still wrapped around his. Buffy takes charge at that point, forcing his body down to the ground below her. They never lose contact, by the miracle of Slayer/vampire agility and strength. Buffy leans all the way forward, the ends of her blond hair brushing Spike’s face, her firm breasts tempting him from above. With one fast and hard roll of her hips, she shows who is now in control. Spike moans, strong and low at the renewed sensation. She’s so incredibly tight and warm, he can barely focus his eyes. Lifting up only slightly, Buffy undulates her hips again in one fluid motion, driving down onto him. His eyes roll back in his head as she smiles, wide and wicked. "How’s that, Spike? Intense?" She slams her hands down onto the cold tile on either side of his head, effectively trapping him beneath her taut, muscular body. She is like an animal closing in on its prey. Spike’s hands rest on her hips, rolling with the motion she continues to generate. Wave after wave of heat wash over him, a combination of her blood and her warmth surrounding him in a haze. He sees her chest begin to move more quickly as her breathing accelerates. Obviously, this position is not purely for his benefit. Her pace growing more and more frenetic, Buffy throws her head back, groaning. She, too, is trying to maintain the pace a bit longer. The view of her expression of ecstasy, her bare neck and her heaving breasts is very close to too much for Spike.

"Cor, pet. I won’t...make it....much... oh god." Rising to meet her as she continues to rise and fall above him, Spike can barely speak. She knows, though. She lowers her head, eyes finding his again. They communicate more eloquently through their eyes than with their words. The unguarded, raw passion sparks between them. With a few more hard strokes, she flings him into the abyss, and then follows shortly behind, her entire body wracked with tremors. They slowly fade as she feels all the strength drain from her limbs. Her arms begin to waver and she drops onto his chest, her head resting there as exhaustion begins to take her. The aftershocks fading, Spike slips into unconsciousness with her clutched to his chest, curving his body around hers, the cold tile floor his only bed.

*****

"Okay, I never thought I would say this, but I am officially tired just watching these two. Are you worried about them at all? I mean, honestly, how many times can they have sex before they combust...or worse, can’t perform?" Psyche’s eyes widen in horror.

"Now, now, love. Handy side effect of the lust arrows. He won’t have that trouble. As for their stamina, well, luckily you picked those two. These are not sprinters, they are marathoners. Of course, they will get tired...like now." He points at the still water, where the two in question are snuggled into each other on the kitchen floor. "Won’t stop the lust, though. They will wake up wanting each other again." Cupid winks at his mortal love. He gestures toward Psyche conspiratorially, bringing her closer. "But here is what is truly fascinating, my dear. As the natural course of the arrows runs, their need for each other should begin to wane. In fact, it should have already begun to lessen."

"But?" She whispers, eyes glancing over his shoulder at the sleeping couple.

"It is only building between them. Growing more and more, taking on new qualities. I sense emotion between them, not just lust. Like I said, truly fascinating. I have no explanation as yet, but I will have one. In fact, I think I will try something." His eyes twinkle mischievously, his love for toying with the human, and in this case, undead heart, evident on his angelic face.

"Ooh, what?"

"I will not yet shoot the love arrows. I will give the lust arrow time to fade, if it ever will with these two. And see what is left."

"Oh darling, it’s a bit risky, isn’t it? They could kill each other out from under the effects of your magic. Remember, they hated each other with a passion."

"Exactly. Passion. I think it is key here. I must see what happens. Risk or no. What fun this will be!" Cupid grins, his concern for their safety far overwhelmed by his curiosity.

*****

"Buffy? Buffy, are you here? The front door was locked, so I came around the side...oh for heaven’s sake! Could you people locate some clothes?! Today?!!" Willow jumps back after entering the kitchen door and finding the two naked bodies entangled on the floor. Buffy moans. Studying the ceiling with great concentration, she nudges Buffy with her toe, trying to wake her further. "Buffy. It’s Willow. Remember me, fully-clothed friend of yours?"

Stretching her arms above her head, Buffy slowly extracts herself from Spike’s grasp. His sleep is deeper now that it is midday and he barely stirs. "Hey, Will."

"Oh good, you’re up." Absently, Willow drops her eyes to Buffy. To her dismay, Buffy’s movements have now fully exposed Spike‘s naked body. "Holy moley, it is not safe to look directly at people in this house anymore. Like a freakin’ solar eclipse or something." Reaching out wildly, Willow grabs Buffy by the arm and pulls her out of the kitchen, still avoiding the naked vampire on the floor. "Did you even pick out clothes this morning, Buffy?" Buffy shakes her head, face flushing. "Wait here." Willow disappears back into the kitchen. Buffy can hear her muttering to herself, something about "can’t talk with her breasts just looking right at me like that" and then the steps of Willow heading down into the basement. Moments later, she returns, still averting her gaze from Spike as she exits the kitchen, carrying a pair of running pants and a tank top for Buffy from the laundry. She flings them to Buffy, who quickly gets the clothes on, flinching at the contact of fabric on her sensitive and sore body.

"Let’s sit. I’ve got some things to report, if you can focus your grabby hands for a few minutes?" Buffy nods and the two begin to adjourn to the living room. Buffy glances over her shoulder as they walk away, and can just see the top of Spike’s blond head. "Uh-uh! Eyes front, missy!"

"But he’s lying on that cold floor...I should just..." Buffy starts to turn back to him, her hands burning to touch him again.

"Used to sleep on a sarcophagus, Buffy. I think he can take a few hours on kitchen tile." Willow takes Buffy’s arm firmly, pulling her away and into the living room. They perch on the couch, facing each other. Buffy grimaces as she tries to sit Indian style, finally settling for tucking her knees under her chin. Willow rolls her eyes as she realizes the reasons for Buffy’s discomfort. "Little too much naked floor wrestling, huh?"

Blushing even harder, Buffy nods. "What did you find out?" Her mind is only half on Willow, the other half wondering if she could slip away somehow, head to the bathroom and never come back so she could get back to Spike. Things seem cold and unimportant outside his presence. Shaking her head, she brings her eyes and focus back to her red-haired friend, who is already talking.

"...then I checked into Hosh’aar rituals, ‘cause I found a reference that those guys used to work mojo with people’s hearts. Then I realized they used actual hearts, not the metaphorical type. So then...."

"Willow. Sorry, but I need the abridged version. Any proof that something is messing with us?" In a secret corner of her soul, Buffy hopes Willow hasn’t figured it out. It’s too much fun this way.

Looking slightly wounded at having her research monologue cut short, Willow sighs. "Not yet. I’ve still got some leads to follow, but it’s hard to figure out. Like, why would someone or something make the two of you do...well, you know. To what end? Wouldn’t it be better to turn you against each other, not...press you against each other?"

"Well, truth be told, we already were against each other before." Willow’s eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. "No, not like now, I mean we fought each other - all the time. Just that he’s chipped now and all. I don’t get it either." Buffy rests her chin on her knees again, face rigid in concentration.

"What is it, Buffy?"

"Do you think...do you think it’s possible we just started liking each other?"

"Without supernatural intervention? No way." Willow shakes her head, hair flying.

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh no, I don’t mean it like that, Buffy! ‘Course he could want you and all. But c’mon, it would take some freaky mojo for you two to just leap into each other’s arms, right? All sudden like that?"

Buffy nods. After a few seconds, her eyes light up. "Wait. I almost forgot! Pain. I had a pain before I...before we...well, y’know. My chest hurt."

"You were having a heart attack?"

"No, not like that. Just a sharp pain. But I was alone when it happened. And then, whammo, bring on the lovin’."

Willow holds up her hand. "Right, got it." She stands up. "Well, I should hit the books again, then." Starting to turn toward the door, she hesitates. "Should I take you with me?"

"No!" Buffy answers immediately, standing up quickly.

"Settle down now. Just wondering...will you be okay?"

"Mmm, should be just fine." Buffy lifts her eyebrows suggestively.

"Don’t start with the smutty talk or I’m outta here! Actually, I‘m out of here anyway, but I‘m still warning ya." Willow shakes her finger at Buffy.

"Sorry."

"I’ll let you know what I find. This time, when I call, answer the phone, okay? I don’t know how many more times I can walk in on scenes like these without emotional scarring."

"You called? Hmm, never heard the phone."

"Color me stunned." Willow shakes her head. Giving Buffy a quick hug, she slips back out the front door. Buffy leans against the door, listening to Willow retreating down the walk. A smile touches her face and she pushes off the door, heading for the kitchen...



 

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