* * * * * Chapter 19: Tonight * * * * *



Buffy scans back and forth, looking for a vampire, a demon, anything to tackle. Her eyes land on her patrolling companion and she inwardly flinches. Well, except him. Can’t tackle him. Absently, her eyes drop down his body, following the sleek lines, imagining what he hides under those clothes, a sight she knows quite well now.

“Buffy.”

“Wha-?” Buffy snaps her eyes up, which happened to be lingering on his backside and realizes Spike has turned to look at her. The crimson flush races up her cheeks before she can stop it. She looks away sharply, but he had to notice. He must have seen her checking him out.

“A bit quiet in this one, want to head down to RestView?”

Buffy is quietly stunned. He didn’t notice? Or if he did, he is not going to comment? Weird. “Um, sure. Sounds like a plan.”

The blond duo turn and head in the direction of the exit nearest them, but both stop suddenly, heads whipping in the same direction.

“Not so quiet after all, luv. Shall we?” His eyes twinkle, anticipation of a good fight lighting them up. Buffy realizes her heart rate just picked up and can’t decide if it’s him or the potential slayage. Either way, they had company and it was moving this way.

“Yep. What do you think? Take it to them or let them think they are sneaking up?”

Spike smiles down at this little bundle of deadly energy. The one that was just giving him the once-over. He wonders if she knows that her whole body reacts when a fight approaches. Her heart rate increases, blood rushes to the surface of her skin, her eyes glow in anticipation. It makes him want to drag her behind that tree over there and... but first, answer her question. “Rather like the sneaking up plan, pet.”

He nods the direction they were heading, no need to clarify the plan. They know what to do. Buffy continues in a normal speaking voice. “Yeah, pretty quiet. Let’s head out.” She winks at him and they continue walking. Spike is nearly derailed completely from the plan by her playfulness, but remembers to focus. Listening to the nearly silent footsteps and picking up the scent on the air, he can tell there are two, no, three vamps approaching. From the west, behind them. He cuts his eyes to Buffy and she mouths “Three?” He nods slightly. With a practiced ease, Buffy shifts her bag slightly off her shoulder, acting as if she is looking for something. They are getting closer. She and Spike continue to move in stride, seemingly casual, but both are coiled, muscles tensed and ready.

When both can sense their attackers are within a few feet, they glance briefly at each other and then spin simultaneously. Spike, duster flying behind him, swings and punches the vamp nearest. Buffy swings her bag and clocks the second vamp in the head, smoothly flowing to kick the last one. All three vampires go sprawling, and are given no chance to recover. Dropping the bag, Buffy punches and kicks the first vamp to his feet, backing him step by step into a nearby crypt. When his back hits the stone, she whips the stake from the back of her waistband, staking him in one motion. As soon as he turns to dust, she spins with her back to the crypt, allowing the vamp attempting to jump her from behind to dust himself on her outstretched stake. Waving the cloud of dust out of her eyes, she sees Spike battling the final vampire. She starts to push away from the crypt to help, but stops herself. Spike moves like a deadly predator, movements smooth, fast and lethal. He is hypnotic to watch. Plus, he clearly has the situation in hand. Looks like he’s just having a good time before the inevitable staking.

“Trying to sneak up, eh, mate? Bloody stupid if you ask me.” He kicks once to the head, followed by punches, first left then right, sending the vamp stumbling backwards, tripping over a tombstone. The vampire tries to break away, to flee, but Spike grabs his shoulder, spinning him around. “Oh, and now you want to run? Make up your mind.” Buffy smiles. He loves to talk to his opponents almost as much as she does. So distracted by his presence, she couldn’t even muster up a good pun in her fight. Her eyes focus on the leather stretching across his back, remembering the way it felt, the tight skin smooth under her fingers. Her part of the fight is over, but her breathing is only accelerating, her heart beating hard in her chest. Finally, with one sweeping kick, leather flying, Spike knocks the vamp down to the ground. With one violent thrust, he stakes the vamp and ends up kneeling on one knee above a pile of dust.

He feels her eyes on him, burning into his skin. Slowly, he lifts his eyes, looking up at her under his brow. Her breath catches in her throat at the look in his eyes. Deadly, intense. He focuses on her like a predator finding his next kill, only it is not killing he wants to do. He knows it, she knows it.

Her face is flushed with that familiar pink glow as she stares back at him. He sees that she has disposed of the other two vamps and they are alone again in the cemetery. Fighting alongside her is an aphrodisiac of the highest level and he feels his skin vibrate in desire, his need to touch her raging inside. He knows she was watching him fight, knows she is breathing hard, heart racing as the wind brings the sweet scent of her arousal to him. Ever so slowly, Spike stands up and faces her. They are separated by about ten feet of air thick with sexual tension. His eyes rake down her body, heedless of his internal alarm warning him that he is revealing his desire for her. He can almost taste her hot and sweet in his mouth and he knows she wants him just as much.

Still clutching her stake tightly, Buffy can’t look away. She feels his eyes run down her body, tracing each curve, singeing her edges. Her feeble protests, denying her attraction, die in her mouth before she can form them into words. But her mind screams, this is wrong. It’s just as wrong as it was before, spell or no spell. Buffy tells her mind to shut up for a few minutes.

Much as they did before the fight began, she and Spike communicate with their eyes. In the same breath, she drops the stake and he lunges toward her, pinning her tiny body against the cold stone with his own. His hands flatten against the crypt on either side of her head, his face mere inches from hers. Her eyes slip closed, absorbing the sensation of every inch of his hard body pressed into her. Swallowing, she opens her eyes again to meet his, a deep and stormy blue. Her mouth opens to try and give voice to her protest and he is on her in a flash, his lips attacking hers with a vengeance.

The burning in her body grows and spreads, radiating from her navel in every direction, lighting every nerve with a new fire. He can’t believe how hot she feels, his own personal inferno. Their kiss deepens, tongues diving into each other, and her hands run under his duster and around his back, clutching the fabric in her hands.

They break apart with a gasp and stare at each other. Every inch of her fights it, but she breathes out, “This is wrong, Spike.” The complete lack of conviction in her words makes him smile at her in a most sinister fashion.

“Too true, luv. Very, very wrong.” He takes one finger and runs it up her arm, starting at her wrist, grazing her breast with his hand as he slips up and over her shoulder, up her neck, to her cheek. She realizes she is holding her breath as his thumb grazes her bottom lip, pulling her mouth open. “Don’t really care about what‘s wrong, though.” A smile dances across his mouth before he leans closer again.

“The spell.” She blurts it out, her last possible defense against his considerable charms.

“What of it?” He hesitates, wets his own lips as he waits for her response.

“We’re only doing this because of the spell.” Her eyes dart back and forth across his face.

“Sounds like a bloody good excuse to me, luv. What say we go with it?” His logic in the face of unbridled lust is fairly convincing. “Tomorrow, this will be over between us. But tonight...” He leaves the sentence unfinished, his meaning clear. Live in the moment. Something he excels at, something she is scared to do. Knowing she wants him just as much, he sees no need to hide his burning for her. She is just not ready to let her body and the spell take over. Her eyes smolder on his. Or is she?

She cocks her head at him, her voice clear and unquestioning. “You’ve got a good point there. Tonight, then.”

Startled by her agreement, Spike remains still for another moment. Buffy leans forward, planting a kiss at the base of his neck, waking him quite suddenly from his shock. She pulls back, meeting his gaze again before moving back in, her lips moist and warm against his neck. The trail of warmth moves up again, tickling his ear. He moans quietly, grasping her upper arms with his hands, freezing her.

“My crypt? It’s close.”

Glazed over from desire, she takes a few beats to process his words. Looking around briefly, she does realize that out in the middle of the cemetery may not be the wisest location. Catching his eyes again, she nods. His hands drop and one reaches for hers. She twines her fingers in his tightly, allowing herself to be led across the damp grass toward his home.

Her tiny fingers wrapped in his send shockwaves up his arm. Spike had reached for her without thinking and she had taken a hold of him tightly, surprising him. Mentally, he is grateful for the small side trip he made earlier tonight, ‘borrowing’ a sleeping bag and some blankets from a camping store downtown. Got spoiled sleeping at the Slayer’s house and wanted something softer. Despite the glorious vision of taking her on the sarcophagus, he knows she will appreciate the comfort. Shaking his head, he wonders when he began to worry about the Slayer’s comfort. Glancing back at her, he softens his eyes. She is looking up at him as they move rapidly through the cemetery, deftly sidestepping tombstones. Her green eyes are nearly black in the moonlight, but he doesn‘t need much light to see it. To see something profound in their depths. Passion...and maybe more. He turns away, afraid his eyes are showing something equally unsettling. His entire body is alive from her touch, reaching into a place inside him he thought safely locked away.

It’s just tonight, though. To satisfy this blinding lust. If he wanted to pretend it was more, she couldn’t stop him.

Buffy felt weak in her knees even as she kept up with his breakneck pace. His look had been penetrating and it shot through her, making her muscles turn to jelly. His cool hand was clutching hers tightly, as if he would never let go. She hoped this spell ended soon and she hoped it would never end. The longer it lasted, the more she felt there was more to it than lust and the thought sent her reeling.

Lost in their thoughts, they found themselves at the door to Spike’s crypt. Flinging the door open, Spike turns to her, relieved to see that she didn’t appear to be changing her mind.

“Ladies first...” Without releasing her hand, he gestures into the dark space with his other. She steps in and then suddenly, yanks him in after with their clasped hands. The door slams behind the blond vampire and quiet settles on the dark cemetery once again.

* * * * * Chapter 20: In The Dark * * * * *

It’s dark. Very dark. Buffy has time for this thought as the door to the crypt clangs shut. The inky blackness is nearly total, just a few small pools of moonlight through high windows. Quickly, the darkness is not a concern as she feels Spike against her. She caught him off-guard when she pulled him into the crypt, but he has recovered. His hands slide up her sides, making a tremor run straight through her. The darkness swallows Buffy whole and she welcomes it.

"Can you see, luv?" His voice, deep and resonant, washes over her in the darkness. Her hands run up his chest, feeling the leather of the duster under her fingers, cool and roughened from years of wear. Buffy spreads it wider, seeking his skin. She slides the duster down his arms, letting her warm, grasping hands finally find his bare skin. One last push and she hears the solid thump as the leather hits the floor.

"Don’t need to." Her reply comes soft and urgent. "Want to feel my way." With a start and a gasp, Spike realizes she is not kidding, as one of her roaming hands finds the hardness pressing against his jeans. He can almost hear her smile.

"Spike." The word is a cross between a sigh and a plea as she breathes it out. She still can’t see him, but she can feel him. Buffy can map him with her eyes closed, so the darkness is little obstacle. In fact, it makes her brazen, unafraid, able to forget the outside world. It is only Spike and Buffy, alone in this black cocoon. And the evidence of him wanting her is hard and warm under her hand.

The craving for each other, momentarily derailed by the sudden darkness, builds toward a fever pitch once again. Her hands move faster, harder, leaving the front of his jeans to push against his chest. She finds his lips with her own as he steps backwards until his back hits the edge of a sarcophagus. Buffy throws her body against him, clutching at his shirt with her hands. A ripping sound fills the crypt, freezing them both.

"Sorry." She doesn’t really sound that sorry, Spike decides.

"S’okay, luv. I’ve got more."

"Good." The ripping continues as she figures it is now the easiest way to get through the t-shirt and to his skin. More skin. The skin she needs to feel under her hands. Their hands fight each other as they struggle to get the other’s clothes off and quickly. "Only, don’t rip my shirt, okay? It’s new." He chuckles.

"Won’t need to, pet. Thing’s only held on by gravity, I think."

"Is not!" She pauses in her unbuttoning of his pants to protest indignantly. "I thought you liked this top?"

"Like it, true. Like what’s underneath a sight better, Buffy." His words tickle her ear as he leans in to release the scrap of fabric from around her back and neck.

"Oh." The blush is perfectly visible in his mind’s eye. He hears her heart rate begin to pick up again as his hands pull the top off her in one smooth motion. Immediately finding her heated flesh, he feels her nipples go hard in the cool night air as his thumbs graze them. She flinches, pressing closer to him, pinning him between her bare skin and the cold stone of the sarcophagus. Buffy traces his carved abdominal muscles with her fingertips as her hungry mouth grabs his, biting his bottom lip. She slowly pulls back, letting his lip go, a sound close to a growl emanating from her. It is too much for Spike. Grabbing her around the waist with one arm, he picks her off the ground, swinging around to deposit her on the edge of the tomb before she can react. The feel of his taut arm around her is incredible, sending her pulse racing even more. He has her mouth before she can catch a breath, devouring her, his tongue diving into her with fierce abandon. Spike pulls back sharply, leaving her gasping for air, the sound echoing in the chamber.

"Christ, Buffy, I want you." His voice is ragged, choked with desire, his hands resting on her bare shoulders as he tries to look into her face. It is dim, but he is adjusting, so he can just see her eyes, black and fathomless, but definitely staring at him.

"I know. Hurry." Breaking eye contact, Buffy’s hands go straight to his jeans, ripping the fly down to finish her work from earlier. "Off, off. OFF!" He smiles slowly at her demanding voice, fighting his own craving for a few seconds just to hear that note in her voice. He works the jeans off a bit slower than necessary. "Spike, I swear, I will stake you right this second if you don’t get back up here now." Still unable to see well in the dark crypt, Buffy is startled to feel his next words on her face.

"Right here, luv." As he talks, his hands have dropped to her pants, gentle and agile, undoing them quickly. She leans back on her elbows, allowing him to undress her fully. The fabric slides down her legs quickly and is quickly replaced by his cool hands at her ankles. In a flash, his hands fly up her legs, grasping her hips and yanking her to him. Losing her balance, she gasps, throwing her hands out to hold onto his arms. The muscles are silken under her hands, rigid and tight as he clutches her low on her hips, fingers pressing into the warm flesh.

His mouth is on her neck, blunt teeth nipping at her soft skin, tender and then harder. In the dark, she can’t be sure, but she swears she feels the ridges of his game face against her neck at least once. She moans, feeling her own self-control slipping in time with his. Spike brushes her hair back, kissing and biting across her shoulder as one hand works across her thigh, gently brushing the sensitive skin on the inside. She spreads her legs further apart, lifting and draping them loosely around his waist. His hand pushes her soaked panties aside, finding her quite wet and ready for him. Ripping the lacy fabric away, his fingers dive in with no warning and she clutches her legs tighter, closing the small space between them suddenly. Her action forces his fingers deeper into her and she throws her head back in reaction. Supporting her back with his other arm, Spike drives his fingers into her relentlessly, fingers working a rhythm over her clit, swelling it further. She melts in his arms like warm clay, pliable from kneading.

Spike smiles as the silver moonlight catches her body, splayed out in front of him. Neck and chest thrust up as her head lolls back, hair grazing the stone below her. Buffy pants, words floating to him, swallowed in half moans and sighs. Tightening his grip around her back, he leans down, kissing her navel and the delicate skin of her lower belly. Peeking up, he sees that she is still gazing to the heavens, drowning in the sensations cascading through her. He can hear the word, "More..." drop from her lips. The smile on his face turns into a devilishly naughty smirk, edges curling up. Her wish is his command. He returns to her skin, kissing gently. Meanwhile, his other hand slides out of her and then guides his cock to her entrance before she can miss the movement. With one quick thrust, he fills her, stretching her as he drives all the way to the hilt. Her half-gasp, half-scream pierces the darkness as her body convulses, arms flailing to grasp anything, finally finding herself sitting up again, hands on his shoulders. After the one thrust, Spike remains still, waiting for her response, though it is killing him. He feels her breasts against his chest, slick with sweat as she presses into him. Buffy’s eyes, dark and deep, search his, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her kiss is hard and rough, bruising his lips. If he could be out of breath, he would be when she pulls back.

"Don’t stop now." He has never heard a tone of such delicious darkness from his Slayer. Her movements languid in the moonlight, she lets him go, melting back onto the sarcophagus. Her arms fall above her head and he can see the muscles tightening as she takes a grip on the far edge. She wants it. Just like this. Hard and furious. The time apart since last night has driven them past simple wanting to desperate need.

"Don’t think I could, pet." Hands grasping her waist, Spike slides back out and in again, one rough movement that rattles her bones. He can see the grip tightening as she bites her lip. His self-control just about used up, Spike thrusts, harder and harder, lifting her off the stone surface with each drive.

Buffy feels the cool stone beneath her, scraping her back every time he pounds into her. She can’t believe how bad she wants him, how good it feels when he fills her. The sensation starts between her legs and spreads like wildfire through her, dissolving her limbs with its heat. He is moving faster and faster, his strength matching hers, his body unrelenting in its assault. Even in this cool darkness, she can start to make him out. The gentle light from the windows casting shadows on his carved torso, making him seem even more like a marble god than ever. Her mind starts to go in circles as she feels the building inside her, each thrust driving her one step closer . He senses it too and redoubles his efforts. The time for slow and gentle is past. Lifting her eyes to his face from her reclining position, she sees the flicker of his game face, the gold of his eyes catching the light. She smiles at her ability to drive him down that path. Buffy would never admit it out loud, but drawing out his demon like this has made her feel powerful, the mighty Slayer vixen.

Spike feels the bones in his face shifting and starts to panic, afraid Buffy won’t like it. As he fights the change back, he catches the small smile on her face and hesitates in mid-thrust.

Buffy notices the change in movement and meets his gaze. Her eyes have adjusted enough to find his eyes with her own. His brows knit together in slight confusion. She squeezes him tight, forcing his cock as deep as can be and pulls herself back to a sitting position suddenly.

He growls, low and guttural, as her viselike grip pushes him teetering back to the edge of self-control. The flash of yellow in his eyes does not go unnoticed.

"Don’t you dare hold back." She is not asking him, she is telling him. Neither seeking permission nor waiting for it, Buffy grabs his head with both hands and bites his neck with her blunt teeth. A split second after he feels the dull pain of her incisors press against his unbroken flesh, he drives his fangs into her neck without hesitation. She lets go of his neck, her hands going around him, grasping his butt and ripping her nails up his back, drawing blood. He thrusts a few more times, fangs still buried and then, with little warning, they shatter into countless pieces. Buffy claws at him, her body clutching around his cock, drawing every last bit of his seed into her. Spike pulls away from her neck, hands tangled into her hair, hard, as he pumps deep into her superheated core.

Finally, the shockwaves begin to dissipate and they slowly release their violent grip on each other. Momentarily sated, Buffy falls back onto the sarcophagus, body limp. She feels no pain, though she knows her body will be bruised, her neck sore. All of it seems rather irrelevant. A small shiver runs through her, from the damp cold or something else, she’s not sure. It’s not the first time her body has reacted to him this way.

Buffy feels the taut arms wrap around her, pulling her up and off the stone. Her body, damp from exertion, meets his skin as he lifts her from the tomb. So gently.

"You’re cold. I’ve got blankets over here...a sleeping bag."

She mumbles her assent to this idea. His gentle concern is disconcerting, his voice subdued, but she is grateful for the soft plush under her as he lays her down. He folds his body to the ground, stretching out with her, their bodies fitting back together like hand and glove. Spike reaches for the blankets, tucking them into the snug cocoon, his arms working their way around her again. The darkness in this part of the crypt is all-encompassing.

In the halfway space between wakefulness and orgasm-induced sleep, Buffy tries to think. Her mental calculations tell her it has been 48 hours since the night they lost control and attacked each other in her house. In that strange second wave of lust. And yet, she still feels that burning deep inside. Could Willow be wrong? About the time limit, about the spell, about...everything? Willow is so rarely wrong. Surely by tomorrow things will be different. Her addled mind wants to enjoy tonight and her body positively demands it. Other parts of her, like her heart, have yet to let their feelings be known. But for now, just a little rest and recovery.

Spike lies very still, waiting for her breathing to even out. It doesn’t take long. He feels her body grow relaxed and heavy in his arms. When he is sure she will not know it, he quickly wipes his eyes with the back of one hand. S’posed to be bloody evil, not breaking into tears while shagging the Slayer. But the look she gave him, the accepting of his demon, the intoxicating taste of her blood. It was a bit too much in conjunction with his rampant desire and the pleasure she offered. He smiles. He may be a vampire, but he’s never pretended to be unfeeling. He figured the one time she let him bite her in the kitchen was just that, a one time deal. He never thought she would let him...and in the middle of... The smile only broadens. Spike knows this is probably the end of the road. Red says the spell will end tonight and the little Wicca is almost never wrong. But god, what a trip it was...

* * * * *

"Too dark! Honey, I can’t see, it’s too dark!" Psyche’s voice turns into a whine as she pouts prettily at her love. Cupid grins, returning to her side, his eyes dropping to the scene below. He can make out the two blond heads next to each other, their limbs overlapping under the cover of a few blankets.

"Well, darling, it is nighttime." His eyes twinkle, knowing he is teasing her.

She gives him a playful, dark look, but then lights up again. "Sweetie, it’s over! The spell of the arrows...BOTH sets of arrows is over. Three days since the first arrow, two days since the second. But look at them!" She gestures emphatically at the knotted tangle of bodies.

"Their powers of denial are formidable, eh?" His grin widens at his mate.

"You’re not kidding! I know it’s over, you know it’s over, the witch knows it’s over and even THEY should know it’s over, but still..."

He does not reply, his eyes focused on the cozy scene in the crypt. She looks up at him, waiting for a reply.

"What are you going to do? When they wake up, they HAVE to admit it’s not the lust anymore...even these two can’t hide from the truth forever. Do you think there is any chance it will fade, that they won’t want..."

"No." Cupid cuts her off, his voice unwavering. "Darling, I’ve seen untold thousands of couples in love and caused a great deal of them. This is not going anywhere. And I can take no credit for the emotion present. I was merely the spark that set this fire blazing."

He locks his hands behind his back, his brow knit in consternation. "I’ve made a decision, my sweet."

Psyche hesitates, glancing from the couple to her lover’s chiseled face. "What is it?"

"I will not loose the arrow of love."

"Wh-what? But...that’s what you do..." Psyche is confused. She has never known her lover to miss a chance to alter the course of a relationship with his power. It is what he lives for.

"I can’t bring myself to it. I want to see it develop on its own. See if the world can still produce a true love without my help. My dear, I am the world’s strongest believer in love. I don’t always have to cause it to enjoy it. Let us watch some more. Perhaps I can be of help in some other way. But no, the arrow of love will stay in its quiver."

Her look of confusion softens into tenderness. She remembers why she fell in love with this god. Why she chose him above all mortal men. He often wields his great power with impunity, but it is in moments like these that she sees his true strength. He is, after all, the god of love.

* * * * * Chapter 21: Waking * * * * *

Buffy wakes in the pitch black crypt. A glance towards the windows at the far end of the crypt tells her it is the early hours of the morning, maybe 3 or 4. She feels Spike’s arms, still firm but not tight around her, as he is slack with sleep. She knows she can wake him with the slightest movement if she’s not careful. Buffy lies still, letting her mind wander down her body. And his. Her legs are tangled with his, loosely. She is sore below the waist from the force of their encounter, but it’s a solid ache, comforting in a way. Much like when she’s had a good night of slaying and her body tells her it has been working, that it is alive. The weight on her waist is one of his hands, lightly curled around her there. Their skin is in constant contact from waist up. Buffy feels the hard lines of his muscular chest under her cheek, lets her mind wander down her arm to the hand that rests just above his unbeating heart. She is lying halfway on him, his other arm under and around her, resting on her back. Buffy is cocooned in his arms and she has not felt this safe in years. She barely feels the small burning ache from the bite mark on her neck. A pocket of warmth in her belly spreads to suffuse every limb in a combination of contentment...and...desire? Her eyes widen a bit as she feels her body temperature rise. Buffy wants him again. Feeling the graceful lines of his body pressed against her, countering her curves, containing her tiny form, is wakening her. He has taken on her warmth in this snug bed of theirs under several soft blankets. The outside world is muffled and unimportant.

Buffy’s mind races in time with her pulse. She imagines waking him, feeling his hands move on her again and has to bite back a groan. This is not the spell. The stupid thing is over and she feels no different. The possible explanation for her craving makes her heart flutter, her breath catch in her throat.

Love. No, no. Lust. It’s lust. I mean, she can’t help how hot he is... Buffy’s parade of denial is stopped suddenly by her memory of last night. She did not have to let him bite her. Not last night, not that time in the kitchen. If it was just sex, why would she offer him something so significant, so meaningful? It would seem that her willingness and her feeling no real pain allowed him to bite her, even with the chip. So, couldn’t he have killed her? She grows cold at the notion. He wouldn’t. She knows it as surely as she knows the sun will rise in a few hours. When did she begin to get so secure in what Spike would do? The tiny voice in the back of her head whispers, ‘Since you started falling for him.’

Her mouth goes dry. Another vampire? Falling for another vampire was really not at the top of her To Do list. But here she was, curled up in his arms and wishing she could stay this way.

Buffy feels the panic rising in her throat, wondering what to do with this feeling in her gut. Again, the tiny voice, growing louder and more insistent, has a suggestion. Her body betrays her racing thoughts and thinks it is a great idea. Shifting as if in her sleep, Buffy slides slightly down his body, slipping lower. As she predicted, he adjusts to her new position in his sleep, pulling her against him again. Her small hand moves in slow motion down his chest, desperate not to wake him. The smirk tugs at her mouth. Not yet, at least. All thoughts of self-control or worry have flown out of her head. Presented with his body, she can’t deal with consequences, she can just deal with him. Finding her target, she begins to rub his cock lightly. It is warm in her hand, protected from the cool night air by the blankets. His body twitches at her touch and she freezes for a second. A low moan comes from him, but he does not wake. As she begins to stroke him slightly more quickly, he begins to harden. His hands flex convulsively around her. She hopes she is not making a big mistake. If he doesn’t want her anymore, this could get unpleasant in a hurry.

Spike tosses in his mind, pulled from dreams to an unnervingly real sensation coursing through his body. In his dream, he had the Slayer in his arms, warm and willing. His own little heat source, gazing at him with those gentle green eyes. Flashes of the night before fill his brain and he has to work to identify them as reality instead of fantasy. He wonders why he spent so much time trying to kill her when this is so much better. His undead heart aches at the vision of her gazing into his eyes. He desperately wants to hold her, to have her let him hold her. He can barely muster up an argument against it. Sod the bloody spell. Sod the whole bloody world. This is real. And he is holding her. Spell’s over and he still wants her. Wants her to let him be hers, and for her to be his. He tightens his grip around her warm body, wishing fervently to whoever listens to vampires that she feels the same. Swimming slowly towards consciousness, sluggish from the recent exertion, Spike identifies the sensation he felt earlier. She is...she can’t be. But she is. He doesn’t react outwardly, but waits to see what will happen next. She begins to slide further out of his grasp and he resists the urge to clutch her back to him. The notion of not reacting is quickly thrown out of the window as her hand is replaced by her wet, warm mouth, encircling him suddenly. His entire body stiffens, he gasps and digs his hands into the blankets. Once again, he swears he can hear her smile.

Nice plan, Buffy thinks, reminding herself to listen to the little voice more often. His cock is slick and silken in her mouth, hardening further as she feels him flail above her. A smile touches her mouth as she slides down his erection, letting her tongue dance around and up again. He’s definitely awake now. After a few more strokes, she feels two very strong hands on her shoulders, digging in. In the next second, she is forcibly pulled from his cock and yanked up his firm chest. Unerring in the dark, Spike takes her lips with his, his mouth attacking hers with newly wakened ferocity, his tongue exploring her mouth thoroughly before letting her go. Gasping, she lies on top of him, hands on his chest, struggling for balance, the evidence of his arousal and her handiwork pressing into her belly.

Still short of breath, she whispers onto his face. "Did I wake you?" He can just see her widen her eyes, feigning innocence.

"Surely bloody did." He chuckles, low and sensuous. The sound always sets off a strange chain reaction in Buffy. A sudden flush of warmth over her skin, a pulse of arousal between her legs.

"Very sorry, Spike. My bad."

"Oh, I’ll show you bad." His voice drops, his menace as real as her innocence from moments before. Their playing hides a bit of their emotion, but both know the significance of this encounter. Buried beneath their teasing words is an undercurrent of electricity. Both know the effects of the spell are gone. That having these desires now proves something else. That acting on these desires now proves even more...

He runs his hands down her body, drawing out the moment. Despite the misgivings that should be screaming through his mind, he does not waver. The world has shifted into a place of clarity and she is clearly in that world with him.

Buffy looks down at him, wishing she could see his eyes. "Spike?"

"Yes, luv?" His voice shakes, surprising him. The emotions held in check are bucking for their freedom.

"I want to see you."

"Thought you didn’t need to, pet?" He smiles, remembering her comments of a few hours ago.

"I don’t. I said I want to." Her voice is calm, serene. He swallows, all of a sudden wanting to see her , too.

"Alright, luv. Got some candles right here somewhere." Buffy shifts off him and listens to his movements as he rolls over on his stomach and reaches into the darkness by their makeshift bed. Buffy hears the familiar clink of his lighter opening. The tiny flame dances, casting light up onto his face. He moves the candle on the floor a bit closer. Once the wick catches, he starts to move the lighter towards another candle. She moves behind him silently, her tiny hands sliding up his back. The warmth, the sensation of her delicate fingers nearly makes him drop the lighter. Hand shaking just a bit, Spike fumbles for the lighter again, swallowing hard. After two attempts he gets it to work, only to feel something altogether disconcerting. Buffy’s mouth. On his back. Wet, hot little kisses dancing up his spine. A sudden clank and total darkness returns.

The weak flame from the first candle casts little light, but does create a pocket of orange glow, softening the darkness. He drops the lighter again as she bares her teeth, nipping the skin of his back. One candle will have to be enough.

"Oh God, Buffy..." Her mouth continues to move up, tracing the strong columns of his back, hands racing over the skin, re-learning it with her fingertips. He wonders if she truly knows how incredible she is. How wildly she affects him. He didn’t know she had this side, so sensual, gentle, rough and intense. The need to see her is too intense for him. He quickly flips over, facing her. Buffy gasps at his sudden movement, but is quickly quiet again, looking up his chest until she finds his face in the dimness. His eyes are black in this light, but they still dive into her, fathomless and intense. She lets her hands find their path up his chest, then slowly drags them back down, letting the fingernails graze him, catching his nipples on her return. The candlelight flickers next to them.

Before he can go any further, Spike has to know. "Buffy. Wait."

"Don’t wanna." Her voice takes on a pouting quality immediately as her hands work their way down and down again...

He uses his every bit of willpower, plus some he didn’t know he had to stop her hands. Why does he care why she is doing this? He kicks himself for possibly screwing up a great thing.

"Spell’s over, luv."

She is quiet and he wonders if he could be this wrong.

Buffy realizes that it is time to be honest. Here in the dark, one flame dancing across her naked body, she is strong and facing it.

"I know." Her response is so quiet, he wants to ask her to repeat herself.

"You know?"

"I do." He hears her hesitate, clearly struggling with her next words, making little noises. "But I...don’t care."

"You don’t care?"

"Yes, I mean, no. I do."

"You do care?" Spike is getting more confused. "Buffy, luv. I’m lost. What do you care about?"

A few beats of silence. He can hear her take a deep breath before meeting his eyes again in the dancing light. In slow motion, she leans closer, eyes darting between his eyes and his mouth. He feels her skin trembling under his hands. Finally closing her eyes briefly, she touches her lips to his, pressing lightly just for a moment. She meets his eyes again before speaking.

"You."

* * * * * Chapter 22: Beginnings * * * * *



Spike fights his urge to ask Buffy to repeat herself. Struck speechless, he tilts his head slightly and looks up at her, his eyes gone soft and tender in the candlelight.

A small smile plays on Buffy’s lips. She is enjoying his reaction thoroughly. "Did you hear me, Spike?"

Finally finding his voice, Spike manages, "Let’s pretend I didn’t..." Seeing her face cloud over, Spike quickly amends his statement. "No, luv, not like that." He reaches up, grazing her cheek with the back of his hand. "I meant, I would like to...love to hear it again."

Buffy’s smile stretches wider as she shakes her head. "Your turn."

"My turn for what...this?" His hand slides suddenly between her legs, causing Buffy to jump. Slapping at his arm, she laughs.

"No, not yet, Spike. I need to know how you...what you..." Her words trail off, the smile fading as worry sets in. She knows her decision to tell him may have been rash. Maybe he only wants to play? The look on his face settles the butterflies momentarily before sparking a whole new tingle. His expression is so serious, she strives to match it.

"Slayer...Buffy. I don’t bloody care ‘bout the spell. It’s over and I still can’t get enough of you. I’m thinking there’s a reason for that which was nothing to do with magic." His hand moves up to brush her hair out of her face, tucking it behind an ear. "I feel what you do, luv."

Both dipping their toes carefully into this new emotion, they are tentative, adjusting to it slowly. Buffy studies him quizzically, "Good. Now if I can just figure out exactly what I feel, we’ll be in business."

Spike can’t help but laugh at her facial expression. "Well, no one ever said this kind of thing was easy."

"Right." Suddenly, it was starting to feel a bit too hot in the room. Buffy knew the heat was internal because the pre-dawn air was chill on her exposed skin. His gaze was warm over her face, skimming down her body briefly before coming back to her eyes. Her voice felt strangely too thick for her throat. She tried to swallow first before managing to say, "We should just take this slow..."

Again, Spike’s low laugh shakes her body with its vibrations. "Slow, pet? Is that what we’ve been doing the last couple days?" His eyebrows threaten to disappear into his hairline.

Buffy grins at him, realizing how ludicrous her statement sounds in the context of the last three days. His reaction distracts her from the fever sweeping through her body, but only momentarily. The grin slowly fades as she lets her eyes dance in his, darting to his mouth and back. "What’s the matter, Spike? Can’t keep up?" Absently, she realizes her hands have started running over his skin again, tracing the carved muscles of his chest with the tips of her fingers. Her notion of taking it slow is starting to transform into an altogether new policy which has more to do with nakedness and those damn kissable lips.

His mild growl sends shockwaves through her body as Spike’s eyes narrow on hers. His voice drops, thick like honey, a dangerous smirk playing across his mouth. "You know I can keep it up, sweetheart."

Biting her lip, Buffy leans closer to his face, her voice a breath on his cheek. "That’s not what I said, Spike." Letting her moist mouth hover just above his, her entire body taut against his, she freezes for just a few seconds. "But since you mentioned it, let’s test that theory." Buffy presses her lips together once as he strains up towards her. Finally, she lets her mouth press against his, holding that position for several seconds, the moment of contact coursing through her body like lightning, sparking and burning. Free to have feelings for him beyond the physical, Buffy revels in that freedom; any barrier left to her enjoyment of him is gone.

Spike holds the breath he does not need as her lips move to his. Despite the countless kisses they’ve exchanged in the last few days, this one makes him twitch in anticipation. The weight of their admitted feelings is heavy on this moment. The kiss carries so much more than it did before. He wants it to start as soon as possible as he pulls towards her. Finally, their lips meet and the power of the feeling shocks him. He’s surprised the electricity that shoots through him does not jumpstart his centuries-dead heart.

After the initial impact, both fight their way to focus again, the awareness of their nakedness and position drawing a great deal of attention. As the kiss deepens, Buffy shifts on Spike’s chest, letting her hands wander up to his shoulders. She pulls herself higher on him, letting her smooth skin drag against his, their legs tangling under the blankets. His arms wrap around her back, hands rising up to meet at the nape of her neck, holding her to him. Buffy feels the evidence of his arousal under her and smiles into the kiss. She dives into the kiss with renewed vigor as his fingers move up to entwine in her tousled blond hair. His erection becomes harder and more insistent against her belly. With a gasp, the kiss breaks. Buffy’s eyes dance wildly in the half-light, pupils dilated as wide as possible. Her eyes are black pools in this light and Spike quickly loses himself in them. Moving her hips in a slow circle, she grins at Spike. He bites his lip for a second, choking back a moan.

"What did I tell you, pet?"

Letting her hips continue to rotate, brushing his cock lightly, she replies, "Never really doubted you, Spike. You haven’t let me down yet..." He bites back the smart aleck comment he had prepared, their words dancing back and forth between playful and serious with little warning.

"Don’t intend to." Spike’s hands move down her spine, tickling her slightly with the light touch before reaching her hips. He lets his hand ride the rotation for a moment before stilling her body above him. They’ve had sex too many times to count in the course of this spell...but this, this time is different. They both know it. Both fully aware of their free will, continuing on this course will make a louder statement than even those tentative words they exchanged. That broke the ice, this is going to shatter it.

His deep voice breaks the quiet. "You sure ‘bout this, Slayer?" Spike’s eyes won’t release hers. Buffy tries to listen to him over the pounding blood in her ears. Being in his proximity jams all her frequencies ‘til she’s sure her body emits a low hum. She can feel every inch of contact between them and it is simply not enough. She wanders if it will ever be enough.

Never looking away, Buffy nods, nibbling at her lip, not in nervousness, but anticipation. She knows he is not just asking about the sex, but about everything between them. "Yes. I’m sure."

Spike thankfully steps off the precipice and brings her body down onto him, filling her slowly, deliberately. This is the first time. The first time they’ve truly chosen each other and he wants to make it last. He wants to memorize every taste of her, every small movement of her face, every fleck of light catching her hair, each and every time she touches him with her hands, her legs, her lips, her whole self.

Buffy inhales deeply as he enters her. The faint scent of freshly turned earth and grass from the cemetery, the waxy smell of the candle, and underneath it all, him. The scent of his maleness, leather, smoke, nighttime. She doesn’t stop to think what nighttime smells like - it is simply his scent. Her fingers dig into his shoulders as he finishes his slow and methodical penetration. They are locked together now, quivering in the knowledge of what they have just done. Vampire and Slayer together by choice.

Buffy’s heart, which had been racing, slowly steadies. A moment of pure knowing passes through her. He is right. He fits her in the all places she needed and some she never knew about. And he loves her. He hasn’t said it, but the knowledge settles around her with comforting certainty. No one will understand, but it occurs to her that they don’t actually need to. She understands in her gut why this works, why this feels like coming home. She just can’t put it into words.

Spike gazes up at her, her heat filling him as he filled her. He wonders if he could well and truly combust while making love to the Slayer. His mind catches around his last thought. Making love? Is that what this is now? No longer sex or fucking or just getting their rocks off...but love-making? He wonders if you can actually make love, build it through motions and words and gentle sighs. Truly make it. His thumbs run in circles on her hip as he feels her body shiver, adjusting to his presence.

Buffy wants to move and wants to stay absolutely still at the same time. In the cool , early morning hours, she and Spike can almost stop time, living this in-between time before the world wakes up. It is their moment and she wants it to spin out slowly, to savor it.

Finally, with an unspoken agreement delivered with only eyes and body, they start to move together. She rises and falls on him, gentle as a breath. He comes to meet her, feeling her silken skin envelop him in a tender embrace. Their movements are invested with a new depth and while it is comforting, it is also unsettling in its newness. With grasping hands and searching eyes, they feel their way through this uncharted territory. Buffy and Spike are more naked than they have been in days, as they have now exposed much more than skin to each other.

The inevitable pressure builds, their pace rising to meet the demands of their bodies. Spike’s hands grip her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. Leaning forward so her breasts just brush his chest, her hair tickling his cheek, Buffy kisses him. Gently, then more insistently as her body takes control of the rhythm. Spike feels his body tighten and his hands run up her back, finally reaching and holding the side of her head as they continue to kiss. Early waves start to run through Buffy’s body. With one final drive, they come together, breaking their kiss as they fall over the edge together, breathing hard. Eyes locked into each other, lips just barely touching, they gasp as their bodies shudder in pleasure. Buffy lets Spike see the ripples shake her, her skin heated under his hands. Spike pumps deep inside her, once again wondering at the warmth of her, the life pulsing in her that he can share for the minutes he spends in her arms.

Still entangled, they kiss softly, no words exchanged or needed as they fall to sleep again, the first light of dawn just breaking through the darkness.

* * * * * Chapter 23: Heartbeat * * * * *



A chill runs through Buffy, goosebumps spreading over her exposed skin. She wakes enough to realize that her leg has escaped the confines of the blankets. As another involuntary shiver runs through her, she yanks the leg back in, jostling her partner in this little cocoon. She freezes as she feels him twitch, his body reacting to the movement. In the past, Buffy has seen him come to full alertness from a dead sleep at the smallest sound or movement. She turns her head and smiles at his sleeping form. Either he is completely worn out or is so comfortable with her that his instincts are taking the night off. Or maybe both. Peeking towards the other side of the crypt at the high windows, Buffy is forced to amend her statement. Maybe he’s taking the day off, as the night is long over. She can tell it is morning, bright sunlight pours through the windows, far from their nook.

A myriad of thoughts rise to the surface, reminding Buffy that she is probably missing class again, that Willow is probably wondering why she is missing class again, that her Mom is coming home the day after tomorrow and that she just may be in love with a vampire. Again. She closes her eyes and shoves these worries down for the moment. Turning her gaze back to his peaceful face, she dissolves, worries forgotten. Remembering how she woke him earlier this morning, a little smirk touches her mouth. But for now, sleep. She is still a bit tired and it’s probably not all that late yet anyway...

Spike’s hands move on her back, pulling her tighter to him as he wavers between sleep and wakefulness. These last few days with Buffy have wrecked his normal routine. Here it is late morning and he is starting to wake up. Of course, it has been more than worth it. He feels her smooth skin under his hands, remembering its golden glow in the candlelight hours before. She was a gilt goddess in his arms and here she is, still in his arms. It is almost too much to believe. He fights the urge to wake her just yet. A bit more time with his thoughts and the sensation of her body at rest. The slow, steady heartbeat thrums in his ears, the infectious warmth of her body against his. He borrows her life and she brings him right to the edge of being human again. Something he didn’t think he really wanted, but with her, well, all bets are off.

It has not escaped Spike that falling for the Slayer will mean more than just sex and warm cuddles. It will mean change. For him and for her. The chip keeps him from killing, but he knows the change has to run deeper. He has to learn to leave the bloodlust behind. Luckily, lust is a great substitute. And it’s not like he doesn’t still get to fight. Now he can fight alongside her every night, watch her go through the deadly motions of slaying right next to him. That skin glistening with sweat, little sounds of effort as she punches and kicks. For him, that is pretty much foreplay. A grin plays across Spike’s mouth as his hands slide gently down her back. The scent of her alone in the crypt is intoxicating. Her arousal covers him, musky and sweet. The faint scent of jasmine tickles his senses.

It occurs to Spike that he may have to get along with her friends now He wants her to be happy with him and he is starting to realize that he will do almost anything to make it that way, even making nice with the Scoobies. The birds aren’t so bad, but the whelp and the Watcher...wankers. He represses a chuckle, fearing waking her. He wants her happy. He’ll find a way to get on with those two. Love is truly a funny thing, makes a man do funny things.

Leaning down ever so slightly, Spike presses his lips against the top of her head. Her hair is soft under his mouth, smells of honeysuckle and vanilla. Feeling his body stir under her, he thinks waking her may not be such a bad idea. Between his vampire stamina and her Slayer strength, they could do this for days...and actually, they have. Tilting her chin up, Spike leans down to kiss her lightly on the mouth. Her lips burn his with their soft warmth. She is still for a moment and then he feels the small movements all over her body as she starts to wake. Tiny twitches of her skin and an acceleration of her heartbeat signal her attention as her lips begin to move on his. Her mouth pushes his open a slit and her tongue slides in, seeking his. Their tongues touch, gently tangling as the kiss begins to intensify.

Buffy feels a wave of heat course through her. She wonders if it will always be like this with him. His touch makes her body contract, her skin too tight all of a sudden. Her hand comes up to wrap in his platinum curls, softer than she ever expected, the harsh light of his hair deceptive. She wiggles her fingers, mussing it some more as she laughs softly through their kiss. Spike pulls away just a bit, eyes seeking hers.

"What is it, luv?" His voice is still rough and husky, rusty from disuse.

"This hair. It’s just like you." Spike cocks his head at her, wondering if she’s gone a bit soft in the head.

"How do you mean?"

She smiles at him, putting both hands into his curls to rough them up. She loves that just-fell-out-of-bed look on him. "See, it looks hard, the color, the texture...all sharp and severe. But then I get closer..." Buffy presses against him a bit harder, letting her skin mold to his. He takes in a deep breath as he feels the warmth between her legs burn into him. She lets the fingers of one hand twist in the curls as the other trails gently down his face, towards his mouth. "And closer...and it turns out to be soft, touchable...not harsh at all, not at all what I expected." She smiles for a second as her mouth moves towards his. Her finger traces the lips lightly, pulling the bottom one down just a bit. Releasing, moving her fingers to his chin, Buffy dives back into the kiss. She deepens it, arcing her body into his again. His hands clutch her sides, fingers digging in. With a gasping breath, she lets go. "Like you."

Spike chuckles as he sees her point. "Only got one thing wrong, pet."

"What’s that?"

Spike shifts under her, his erection brushing her skin. "I’m not soft."

"Well, thank god." Buffy winks at him, sliding down a bit to kiss his neck. She opens her mouth and lets her teeth drag down his neck, ever so lightly scoring the skin. A tremor runs through Spike’s entire body, so hard that it transfers to her. His clutch on her convulses, fingertips turning white as he presses harder into her skin. Grinning to herself, Buffy kisses back up his neck and then repeats the motion, this time pausing to nip the skin between her teeth a few times. His body reacts violently to this motion, pressing up towards her. A low rumble begins to emanate from his chest. Any fog of sleep left over his mind is burned off by the feeling she is drawing out of him. Buffy puts both her hands on his shoulders and shimmies a little further down his body, letting her tongue drag down his chest. She veers toward one nipple, her smile widening. She knows he is strung tight right now, a wire waiting to be plucked. He cannot see her face clearly through her hair, does not know what is coming. All the better. Moistening her lips, she plants gentle kisses on his breastbone, soft and delicate. She moves toward the right, kissing her way. His hands continue to hold her tightly. She flicks her glance up at him through her fallen hair, catching a flash of blue in the dim light. He is watching her, his eyes lock on hers for the split second before she lowers herself back to his skin. Pulling her lips back, Buffy bares her teeth briefly before sinking them into his nipple with a little snap.

Spike’s entire body explodes into action, a loud and deep growl rolling out of him as he flips her under him in a blur of motion. Buffy’s hair splays out above her on the blanket, a gold halo, shimmering in the dark. She breathes hard, matching the heaving of his chest, as he tries to regain control. His eyes spark blue and black, singeing her. She can see the muscles in his arm contracting and the little muscle in his jaw twitching. She smiles up at him, blinking her eyes innocently. Buffy’s mouth opens, but before any sounds can come out, he is on her, covering his mouth with hers. He bites her lip slightly, drawing a bit of blood. The taste of copper is light on her tongue, rich on his. The next growl does not come from Spike and he is startled enough to release her briefly. When he looks into her eyes this time, he sees that she knew full damn well what she was doing when she roused him like that. God, he could truly love this Slayer. Dark and light blurred into one tiny package. Her hazel eyes are soft and dark, the edges of her mouth curl up. With a slow movement of her little pink tongue, she licks her lip, tasting the blood there.

Buffy’s thoughts of how this thing with Spike will work are buried beneath a haze of lust. She loves it when he attacks her, likes being the prey for once instead of the hunter. Knowing full well he can take it if she does the same to him. No worry of breaking him. Allowing her dark side to surface, rising to meet his. For the first time, she realizes that he wants it all - the whole Buffy/Slayer package. Doesn’t want her to just be the light to his dark, but to blend the light and dark they both have. Because he does have light. It is hidden, but it is there. Much like her darkness. They can show more than their surfaces to each other.

Buffy’s hands pull down his back, feeling the taut muscle there, tensed under the skin. She lets her nails drag a little bit, leaving light pink trails down his alabaster skin. She can feel all the nerve endings in her skin come to life. His mouth has moved over to her ear, sucking and nibbling. His breath tickles her there, the deep whisper almost too quiet to hear. "Oh Buffy..." It is choked with passion, thick with desire. His kisses grow harder, marking her neck, tracing her jawline before devouring her mouth again. He breaks contact for just a second. "I lov-"

Buffy grabs his head and kisses him, hard, swallowing his words before he can say them. A sense of overwhelming fear rises up amid the lust. If he says it to her...if he actually says those words, this will all become real. She knows she can’t turn back after that point. If he says it, he will mean it. She has seen him love before. Is she ready?

The light is hazy and dim, dust particles drifting through the sunbeams behind Spike. Buffy releases the sides of his head and his mouth. Their faces are mere inches apart. He opens his mouth; the rich, deep voice pouring out, filling in all the hollows of her body. "Buffy." One hand goes to her hair, pushing a loose strand off her forehead. His blue eyes are deep and fathomless. Spike can read the fear in her eyes, knows she is afraid of love. Luckily, he isn’t. "I love -"

Again, she stops him. Buffy’s finger goes to his mouth, holding his lips closed. She shakes her head. Spike’s brow furrows, frustration welling up in him. She moves her finger away and his mouth opens. The finger returns and he closes it. Buffy points at herself with the other hand. Finally, Spike nods, his mind spinning. Will she never cease to surprise him?

Barely trusting her voice, Buffy warbles a bit. "Spike?" He nods again, his eyes searching hers. She clears her throat, trying to get the shakes out of her voice. She wants him to feel it, not just hear it. Her voice must be strong and steady. Buffy’s hand goes to his chest, fingers splayed over his undead heart. The warmth radiates from her small hand, filling him. He matches her gesture, feeling the steady and rapid thump of her heart beating. The cool sensation sizzles against her skin, coursing through her. He feels a little hitch in the rhythm as she opens her mouth, testifying to the power of this emotion. "Spike, I..." She bites her lip, fear gripping her. Spike tips forward, soft lips pressing hers, knowing this is her battle to win. He moves back, his eyes serene. She feels her heartbeat steady, and then finally, "I...love you."

* * * * * Chapter 24: Trust * * * * *



Buffy feels his hand twitch over her heart, his entire body reacting to her words. As he opens his mouth to respond to her declaration, Buffy continues, her voice dropping lower. "And I want you." Her smile is slow and wide, and he is lost in it, words escaping him. He knows he needs to tell her how he feels, but she is destroying his ability to form coherent thought. Buffy’s warm hand on his chest begins to move, but more noticeable is the swivel in her hips. Pinned beneath his weight, she can still manage to move in ways that are sending rapid fire signals to his brain, causing important wires to cross and short circuit.

"Buffy, I..." His voice is thick with the effort. For some reason, Buffy wants to wait to hear it. She knows what he wants to say to her and yet, for now, she simply wants to hold this moment in her hand and study it a bit longer. Her eyes glitter with mischief.

"Wait, Spike. I want to tell you something else first." His brows pull together briefly as he nods. "Come closer." He moves forward another few inches, mere breaths from her face. "A little closer." With one hand, she gently pulls and turns his head so his ear is nearly touching her lips. Spike feels a light warm breath on his ear as he waits for her next words. Instead, he suddenly feels her sink her teeth into his lobe. With Spike suitably off-guard, Buffy locks her legs tight around his waist and pivots, flipping him under her before he knows what is happening. When she lands, she has Spike’s hands above his head. Spike struggles a little out of pure instinct. That smile is still on her face, seductive and dark. "Spike. Sweetie. If we keep doing this flippy thing, one of us is going to get dizzy. Maybe you should just let me be on top?" Buffy’s voice drops on the word let, and they both know she is not asking. She is demanding, and she has the strength to back it up. Her powerful thighs squeeze a warning around his waist and Spike groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. He wonders why he would even bother to fight her at this point. This is some delicious form of torture and he’s not keen on it ending anytime soon. Spike begins to realize that Buffy is done talking for the moment. He can go with that. If things go well, he will have plenty of time to tell her how he feels.

Spike lets his body relax under her iron grip. Buffy could swear his baby blues turn a shade darker as he gazes up at her. The tension in his muscles loosens and she feels her own muscles follow suit. "So..." His deep voice sends a shiver down her spine. He presses his tongue against the back of his teeth before speaking again. "Baby wants to play?"

Wetting her lips with her tongue, Buffy nods. She releases his hands above his head and sits up, legs straddling his waist. Spike’s unneeded breath catches in his throat at the sight above him. Distant light washes her body, highlighting the shadows and valleys. The weight of her against his mounting erection is driving him mad. His hands come down to rest on her thighs, the tight lines of her flexed muscles traced by his strong fingers. He takes a firm grasp, digging his fingertips into her warm flesh as he drags up her legs to her waist. Spike sits up quickly, the distance between them too much. His hands continue their matching course up her body, reaching her soft breasts. Each hand circles, not quite touching the pliable skin.

Spike’s mouth is open slightly, tongue caught between his teeth as his gaze jumps from Buffy’s breasts to her eyes. She is holding her breath, letting him drive for now. Her muscles are coiled again under her golden skin, waiting, waiting to leap into action. On the next lazy circle around, Spike lets his thumbs graze her nipples, bringing them to full attention. Buffy’s hands slowly rise from her sides to lay over his, covering them lightly, fingertips touching against the backs of his hands. He can feel her pulse against the back of his wrist, thrumming her warmth into him with each beat. She presses against his hands as he begins to move them again, tweaking her nipples and caressing the soft flesh of her breasts. The heat of her skin passes into his hands from above and below, and he wonders if he will lose track of himself inside this cocoon of warmth. Buffy presses herself closer to him, her skin colliding with his at the waist. The air sizzles and Spike nearly flinches at the contact. She is heating up like a supernova. Suddenly, Spike needs to feel all of her against him, each square inch of quivering flesh pressed against his. In the same movement, Buffy’s arms lift to rest on his shoulders as his arms wrap around her, pulling her sharply against him. Her breasts crush up against his firm chest, and the contact becomes another source of the spark between them.

Spike takes a deep breath, his body shuddering with effort as he absorbs her warmth. He feels the muscles in Buffy’s back flex and move and he fights the urge to clutch her tighter. Pressing her arms into his shoulders, she lifts herself up slightly. The action brings her breasts to Spike’s mouth and he does not hesitate. His hands dig into her spine, holding her steady as his mouth dives forward. His tongue lashes out to kiss against her skin, taking one nipple in his mouth as she squirms against him. Buffy throws her head back, a low moan rolling up and out of her, her back arching in time with the sound. Spike continues worshiping her breasts with his lips and tongue as her hands dig into his blond hair, clutching the platinum curls in her fingers. The insistence of his erection against her stomach is throbbing, calling to her body, driving her onward. Baring down on his shoulders, Buffy lifts herself just a fraction more, drawing his cock down to her opening. Poised in mid-air, she drops her eyes. As if she called his name, Spike lifts his azure gaze to meet hers in the moment she impales herself on him.

The combination of a moan and a sigh mingled from two throats rises into the still air of the crypt. They are motionless, eyes an inch apart, lips brushing, fingertips digging in, feeling every one of the million points of contact covering their bodies, lighting them from the inside. The urgency is there, but touched by something else. Something new and growing. A patience, a feeling of the future. They want each other right this second, but also for every second after this one. It gives them fire and peace all at once.

A smile dances across Buffy’s mouth as she lowers her lashes. Spike bites his bottom lip, nuzzles against her gently. They melt into a kiss, brushing lips at first, releasing and re-connecting. Each touch a spark that shoots straight to their core. The moment of quiet passes as the heat begins to build. The kisses grow in power and intensity, tongues dueling and tangling. Both fight for dominance, but neither really wants to win. It’s the battle they truly enjoy. They continue to kiss, mouths hungry for the taste of the other. Buffy’s hands race through his blond hair, grasping and clutching in her lust. As she takes ahold of his bottom lip with her teeth and nips, the coppery smell of fresh blood fills Spike’s senses. Buffy feels him harden impossibly inside her and his hips jerk. She smiles into his mouth and then lightly pulls her tongue across his lip, tasting the drop of blood. Immediately, she dives back into the kiss and hears the growl she was hoping for as her tongue touches his. The sweet hot blood enough, too much for him. His hands tighten their grip around her shoulders as his head dips to her neck, kissing and sucking down to her collarbone. Buffy throws her head back, pressing harder into him at and below the waist. She is teasing, taunting, daring him to take control. Baby does want to play.

The long column of her neck stretched in front of him, her breasts dancing in the cool air, the the incredible warmth and tightness of her around his cock... Spike is pushed until he gives. He has to move, he has to have her. With all his body tight as a spring, he dives forward, throwing Buffy off balance and onto her back, simultaneously driving himself so deep into her, she yelps. Her fingers twist in his hair, getting a grip. Her mind reels in pleasure, her success in drawing him flooding her body with new warmth. Her blond locks arrayed around her head, she smiles up at him, his chest heaving as he stares straight into her. Buffy’s hand trail down his arms, fingertips dipping into each tight muscle, the skin stretched taut. His hands are planted on either side of her head, holding some of his weight off her for the moment. Buffy lets her hands dance further down and then slowly she moves them onto her own torso. Spike’s eyes turn smoky as he waits for her next move. Somehow he doesn’t expect what she does next. Her hands graze and caress the skin of her stomach before moving higher and higher. One hand squeezes her breast lightly, dragging her thumb over the nipple. He sees it begin to harden as she arches her back slightly in pleasure. Spike’s throat goes dry and he struggles to swallow. Meanwhile, Buffy’s other hand takes ahold of the other breast, gently massaging it. Her eyes slip closed as she continues to work over the silken flesh. Spike is mesmerized as he watches her pleasure grow, her breath shorten.

Buffy’s eyes slide open, lids heavy. He is newly stunned by the sultry Slayer beneath him. Even after these several days of naked abandon, she continues to show him more and more. He lifts his left hand and reaches out to touch her breast, meeting her hand there. Together they squeeze and roll the flesh before she pulls him away from the breast and starts to move lower. The edge of Spike’s mouth curls up, mimicking her smirk. The muscles in his right arm continue to flex and twitch, holding him steady above her. Buffy gently pulls his hand with her, slowly dipping into her navel and then onward in single-minded pursuit. Her hand on top, they reach the source of her heat, the apex. Buffy presses his hand into her hot flesh, just grazing their joining. The light contact makes Spike buck above her and all of a sudden the world moves back into realtime after the slow motion of the previous minutes.

The rush of her warmth and her scent drown him. He lifts and drives into her, once and hard. Buffy’s grip on his hand tightens, pressing their flesh into her swollen clit again. She lifts her body to meet his on the next thrust. Driven so close to the edge already, they both know this won’t last too long. Right now, they can get halfway to orgasm just looking at the other. Actual physical contact is almost too much to handle, sending surges of electricity through their linked systems. Buffy takes her other hand from her breast and snatches Spike around the neck, yanking his mouth to hers. He growls into her mouth, sending shivers down her entire body. His thrusts grow harder, driving her body into the floor with each one. Buffy links her legs around his waist, circling her clit with his hand in hers, their fingers tangling together in the slick warmth.

Their kisses are more like bites, each nipping at the other in a fierce display of lust. Buffy’s body begins to fill with extra heat, slow ripples radiating from her core on out with growing speed and intensity. Her hand joined with his presses harder, faster as he times his thrusts to her demands. Spike knows he can go at any moment and he bites into his lip as they break their kiss with a gasp. Foreheads pressed against each other, eyes drawn to the other he drives into her one more time, feels the shockwaves hit her pelvis with a blunt force, shooting up his cock and into his system. Buffy screams and clutches tightly to him. The pull of her muscles is finally too much and he comes with a deep groan, the low vibration of his growl sending mini aftershocks through Buffy’s body.

Their bodies still twitching in pleasure, a sheen of sweat slicking them, Spike grins at Buffy. He pushes a wet strand of hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. She is gorgeous, skin glowing, cheeks flushed and she is smiling at him. Smiling just for him.

"Is it okay if I say it now, Buffy?" Before she answers, Spike rolls down off Buffy and pulls her into him, seeking to hold his little ball of energy inside the circle of his arms. Her heat issuing in waves, intoxicating him until he is sure his blood is flowing again. Raising herself on an elbow, Buffy looks at him. The deep deadly blue eyes, cheekbones you could cut yourself on, sweet full mouth and she wonders how she could have missed it before. Only it is not the looks she wonders at, it is the part you cannot see that he shows her in the set of his mouth, the tenderness of his eyes. The goodness he would as soon hide, but the truth is, he can no longer hide it from her. She loves him and has been granted an all access pass. So why not? Something inside her wants to trust him. He understands her, he knows her and he still wants to say it. And now she wants to hear it.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Buffy meets his gaze again and nods.

"Cor, Buffy, I love you. I love you so much."