* * * * * Chapter 35: Wicked Way * * * * *



Thoughts of prophecy and impending doom shoved way down deep for the moment, Buffy continues to sashay down the sidewalk, heading back towards her house. She can hear the light steps of her lover behind her, but resists the urge to turn and jump him. The anticipation is too delicious to spoil.

Spike trails a few steps behind his blond beauty, eyes racing over her lithe form, hungry and horny. The fact that he may have just heard his death prophesied doesn’t even distract him from the lines of his girl, with her curves in all the right places. He knows he should probably be concerned, but when she looks at him with those searing green eyes full of promise like she just did and twitches those rounded, soft lips in his direction, all the blood rushes from one head to the other and he just can’t think. Can’t worry. Maybe later. He bites his bottom lip and smirks slightly as he sees the Slayer is entering a shadowy part of the sidewalk. With his innate catlike grace, he steps off the sidewalk in mid-stride, dropping instantly into predator mode.

Suddenly, Buffy realizes it is completely silent behind her. She strains with her Slayer senses and feels that familiar tingle of ‘vampire’ nearby. An extra thrill shoots up her spine as she recognizes Spike in particular. Buffy smiles, realizing she has always been able to pick him out of a crowd. Her ability to sense vampires has never been fully explained to her, but it is pretty much infallible. He is still near. But where?

Determined not to let on that she’s lost track of him, Buffy continues to stride confidently. She can play the game. She walks another half a block like this, and still she can’t hear him anywhere. But the tingle remains. Dammit. He’s somewhere behind her. Finally, Buffy can’t resist a quick peek behind. Nothing. Just shadows from the trees overhanging the sidewalk. Not even a glimpse of shocking blond hair. She keeps walking, but must admit she has lost the upper hand here. If she ever had it. The game is most definitely of his making. She walks on, a bit nervous now. And incredibly turned on. Her heart begins to race a little and she feels the blood rushing to her face. She’s been preyed on by a vampire before but never one that she wanted to catch her. Never one that she was mad in love with, that she wanted to tackle naked. This is a whole different kind of hunt.

Her only warning is a quiet swish of leather and then his cool hand is on her mouth. His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her off the sidewalk and into the dark shadow of a tree. She barely has time to take a breath and attempt to shriek in surprise before she feels a very firm and familiar body pressed against her back. All thoughts of struggle end as Buffy’s pulse skyrockets. They are in complete darkness, but she knows that hard body, that distinctive scent of leather and smoke. Her whole body shudders when Spike’s mouth grazes her ear. “Gotcha, luv.” His voice is just above a whisper and she can more feel it than hear it against her skin. Spike loosens his grip enough to let her slide down his body and land on her feet. The friction is maddening. Buffy increases it by wriggling against him slightly, pretending to struggle in his grip. They both know she could probably escape, but they both also know she has no interest in doing so.

Buffy’s voice is light, full of a false fear. “Oh no, Mr. Bad Evil Vampire, what do you plan on doing with poor little defenseless me now that you’ve got me?” She punctuates her words with a solid wiggle of her rear against Spike, who bites a moan in half, trying to keep ahold of her warm body. His erection is suddenly harder than ever and straining against his jeans as he leans back against the tall oak tree, pulling her with him.

Spike concentrates on the game they are playing, makes his voice gruff. “Ah-ah. Wouldn’t be too smart of me to tell you what I have planned, now would it? That’s the way the bad guys always lose. They talk too bloody much.” His voice drops, turns to raw silk on the last sentence. His mouth lowers in the darkness, soft soft lips taking Buffy’s earlobe between them. Letting his teeth nip at her before releasing Buffy’s ear, Spike breathes, “Don’t plan on talking much myself.”

Buffy moans, leans her body back into him. He feels the rough bark dig into his back through the duster as she presses harder. Spike’s hands slide up her sides, dragging against the lightweight fabric of her top, pulling it loose from her skirt. At the moment his bare skin meets hers, a little gasp slips out of Buffy. The cool night air rushes up her torso and she feels her nipples tighten. She lets one arm slide down to Spike’s thigh, fingertips digging into the lean muscle there. One of his hands continues its path upwards and inside her shirt, dancing over the tight skin until he finds her bra. The other arm holds her tight against him. His hand comes up and dances over her breasts, she presses back into him harder than ever, threatening to crush him against the solid tree trunk. Lucky for him he doesn’t need to breathe. The tip of his index finger works around the already hard nipples in circles, teasing, flicking as Buffy’s body twitches in response.

Voices on the sidewalk ten feet away make them both freeze for a moment. Spike leans down to Buffy’s ear, his whisper tickling her. “Very still, luv. Very quiet.” Buffy complies as she recognizes the voices of Xander and Anya.

“I don’t think they bought your excuse, Xander. Sudden onset of dyslexia?” Anya’s voice is full of amusement.

“Got me out of researching, didn’t it, Ahn?”

Buffy stifles a giggle as she pictures the relief on Giles’ and Willow’s faces when the two of them left. There are not two other more unwilling researchers than Xan and Anya.

“Yes and luckily, they also believed that I would need to guide you home in your newly backward reading state.” She suddenly squealed. “Xander!”

“What, sweetie? I figured you knew why I made the excuse…”

After the momentary pause, Spike’s hand returns to roaming over Buffy’s body as the conversation continues, slowly fading as they walk by, oblivious to the presence of the vampire and his Slayer.

“Seeing Buffy and Spike together made you horny, too?”

“Certainly gave me sweaty naked ideas. The sparks between those two were hot! I’m sure they were leaving to…”

“Yeah, and we should…”

“Yeah.” Their steps grow fainter, but quicker as they make for home.

Buffy throws her head back against Spike’s chest as his left hand releases one of her breasts from its lacy covering. The skin draws up in the chill, sending a shiver straight to her core. She struggles to find voice as Spike’s mouth comes down on her neck.

“Sp-Spike…right here? Someone could see us.”

“They didn’t.” He trails kisses down the column of her neck, drawing out a moan.

Buffy grins through her pleasure, the deliciousness of their situation breaking down her inhibitions. “I know. I just don’t want to make anyone jealous.”

A soft chuckle against her skin sends Buffy halfway to a puddle. “That’s my girl… I mean, my hostage.”

Buffy straightens in mock seriousness, “Right, right. Listen, Mr. Bad Guy, you let me go or I’ll scream.” She cranes her neck around to look him in the face.

“Oh you’ll scream, alright.” She can see the glint of white teeth as Spike grins at her. She matches his expression and just then, she feels him relax his hold on her with his right arm. It is all the opening she needs.

He should have suspected it, she is not the Chosen One for nothing. In a maneuver born of instinct and birthright, she spins around and slams Spike’s body back against the tree trunk with her own. He can make out her tongue wetting her lips as she looks up at him. “Is that a promise?” As she speaks, Buffy slowly rolls her body against his until she has him quivering in want.

“Cross my heart, luv.” Spike’s newly freed hands slide down Buffy’s sleek thighs and back up again, dragging her short skirt up with them. Buffy squirms as her bare ass meets the night air. The smirk on Spike’s face widens as his hands find her exposed flesh and squeezes. “All this time, pet? And you didn’t tell me?” He flashes back to sitting on the couch with her at Giles, squeezing her thigh in reassurance. Not even realizing his fingers were mere inches from her…

Buffy stretches up against him, hard nipples poking him through his lightweight shirt. Her entire body is a live wire at the moment, discharging shocks into him and cycling right back into her. Her mouth brushes his lightly, a smile only for him. “Was a surprise, Spike. Did it work?”

“Surely bloody did.” His hands tighten around her ass, lifting her up. Buffy’s legs automatically straddle his lean hips, her shins scraping against the tree. Instantly, she feels the hard bulge in the front of his pants and rubs against it with the warmth between her legs. Spike’s arms shake a bit, wondering how he can hold her if he blacks out from pleasure.

“Damn, baby. That all for me?” Buffy escalates the dirty talk, stunned at what this devilishly handsome man brings out in her. But loving it all the same. No one has ever made her feel like such a vixen. She gyrates on him again, her heat burning through his clothing until he feels near combustion. Her mouth tastes his, lighting on it softly over and over, nipping and nibbling his lips.

She drives him to the point where he can almost not manage a snappy comeback. Her body on his, firm ass in his hands, tight little self rubbing against him. Maybe he already has died and gotten a free pass to the good side of the afterlife? When he feels Buffy’s hands drop to his belt, he knows it is true. Definitely dead, definitely heaven.

“You know it is, pet. All of that and more.” She quickly undoes his belt and jeans, her hand diving in to find his impossibly hard cock, stroking it firmly before releasing it from his pants.

“Good thing, ‘cause Buffy doesn’t share too well.” Angling her hips quickly, Buffy drops onto his erection without ceremony, feeling the shaft stretch and fill her suddenly, pushing the barrier between pleasure and pain. Spike cries out before tightening his grip on her ass, holding her very still and fully impaled. Buffy’s head is thrown back, her neck mere inches from his mouth, strong and slender, blood pumping hard and fast. He leans forward and draws a long slow lick up the skin there, tracing the artery with his firm tongue. A slight tang of sweat and jasmine fills his mouth as he feels her pulse against his tongue. Buffy brings her head forward, meeting Spike’s eyes, welcoming the incredible surge of arousal that rises from their joining to flush her face pink. As her eyes adjust to the dark under the trees, she can start to make out his features again. The strong nose, those angular cheekbones, and oh god, his lips. Gentle and firm at the same time, the bottom one a bit more full, begging for her to grab it. She dives forward, covering his mouth with her own, demanding entrance with her tongue.

Spike welcomes her, extending and deepening the kiss as he struggles for control. Only an effort of supreme will kept him from coming the second she jumped on his cock. Between her incredible tightness and the slick warmth she offers, he is near to exploding every time he enters her. Not to mention the weight of emotion on his heart when he feels her against his skin. Spike’s fingers caress her rear, admiring the smooth firmness as he lifts her slightly. Working with him, she lifts with her powerful thigh muscles, nearly pulling him out of her before sliding his cock back home. Spike’s jaw clenches, every muscle in his neck gone rigid as their kiss continues. He’s going to come in thirty seconds at this rate.

Buffy loves feeling his body go tight, loves knowing she is the cause of his struggle, of the pleasure he is experiencing. She tightens her pelvic muscles, milking his cock hard on the next slow thrust. Spike groans, burying his face in her neck. “Oh god, Buffy. I don’t…oh god, you are so bloody hot…” Buffy grins again, the feeling of him inside her satisfying in a way she didn’t think possible. But she doesn’t want it to end just yet.

Taking one hand off his shoulders, Buffy pulls Spike’s face in front of hers. “Shh, love. Right here. Look at me.” Her eyes holding him still, she rises and falls once. His hands slide up to hold her back, fingers clutching. Her movement becomes fluid, hips bucking ever so slightly against him, inner muscles pulling. Every entrance shaking her from her toes to the tips of her ears. All the while, their eyes stay locked, anchoring each other. Though the light is dim, Buffy can see that gentle blue, can feel the love pouring over her from its depths. Not realizing one of Spike’s hands has been traveling, Buffy feels her body tighten below her navel. He continues to rub her bundle of nerves until she can’t feel her legs. She moves harder and faster, body rubbing against his at a frantic pace, drawing him to the edge of climax and then pushing him right over. In quick succession, they both come, bodies screaming in pleasure as they break eye contact for a passionate kiss. Spike feels his control dissolve as he comes and they slide down the tree, landing in a heap of limbs and half-removed clothing. The night is nearly silent, broken only by the sounds of distant cars and heavy breathing. Reluctant to slide off Spike, Buffy wraps her legs around him, holding him tight against her. Spike’s hands trail on her back in slow, lazy circles. Buffy presses her lips against his neck, his ear, cheek and finally his mouth. Soft and careful, tender and truly loving. She pulls away, looks into Spike’s eyes. He smiles and she wants to kiss the tiny crinkles at the edge of his eyes.

“Can you stand up?” Buffy giggles lightly, shifting slightly in his lap. The sensation of him hardening inside her widens her eyes. He couldn’t…could he? “Guess that answers THAT question. But really, can you? I can’t feel my legs...in a good way.”

“Luv, is this your roundabout way of asking me to carry you?”

She drapes her arms around his neck and nods.

“To your house?” Another nod.

“To sleep?” She shakes her head, a smile touching her mouth.

“Said I was gonna have my wicked ways with you, honey. This was just one of them.”

“Well, in that case, up we go.” Spike finds a new strength, standing up instantly. Buffy bursts into giggles at his quick reaction as they separate and adjust their clothes. She holds out her arms, expecting to be cradled in his arms. In one swift movement, Spike throws her over one shoulder, his arm holding her by the thighs. She squeals in surprise as he starts to stride towards her house. “Got some wicked ways myself, luv.”

“Oh you! You’re gonna get it!” Buffy squirms, her butt in the air.

“That's the idea, luv.” Spike’s laughter mixes with Buffy’s squeaks of indignation as he proceeds through the dark streets of Sunnydale.

* * * * * Chapter 36: Not Now * * * * *

Spike turns on Buffy’s doorstep, letting her unlock her front door from her perch hanging over his shoulder. When she gets the key turned, he spins back around and kicks the door open before stepping inside. Something about carrying a girl over a threshold shoots through his brain, but is quickly derailed by a sharp pain in his rear end.

“Did you just pinch me, pet?” His voice is incredulous.

“Maybe.” Buffy is nearly breathless from being carried like a sack of potatoes for the last ten blocks.

“You do realize that I have you in a most precarious position, right, Slayer?”

Buffy ignores his question and counters with one of her own. “Remember the last time you carried me home, Spike?” Her voice is softer and Spike feels a sensation akin to his heart skipping. If it could.

“Yeah, luv. I remember.” Spike shakes his head slightly. Could it have only been just a few nights ago that he carried the wounded Slayer back to her bed? On a night that ended in the frantic consummation of their lustful feelings? He chuckles, realizing why Buffy brought this up. “Pinched me on the ass that night too.” Spike feels Buffy’s body shake on his shoulder as she laughs.

“Well, can you blame a girl? I mean, it’s too bad you can’t get a look back here…but trust me on this one - very very pinch-able.” As if to prove her point, Buffy gives Spike’s denim-clad rear another solid grab.

“’Ey! Watch how hard you grab with that Slayer strength. Gonna leave little bruises all over my bum.” Spike grabs Buffy by the waist and pulls her off his shoulder, letting her body slowly drag down his until her feet hit the floor. With a backwards kick of his leg, he closes the door behind them. The front hall is only lit by sparse moonlight filtering through the windows.

Buffy sways for a minute, waiting for the blood to rush out of her head and back into the rest of her. When she can focus her eyes, she moves back closer to Spike, a whisper of air separating them. She tilts her head back so she can look up into his eyes, dark in this light.

Her voice is soft and warm, tickling his skin. “You know what else I remember from that night, Spike? When you carried me?”

Buffy pauses and Spike continues to watch her closely, knowing he doesn’t need to answer her. Buffy’s hands slide up his leather covered arms slowly. “I remember how good it felt to be in these arms. How safe and warm I felt.” She swallows, lowering her eyes to follow the path of her hands. Spike slowly puts his arms around her, still silent. Buffy tilts her head to the side, looking back up at her lover. “I remember something else from that night.”

A few seconds later, Spike speaks, his voice soft and thick with emotion in the darkened hall. “What’s that, Buffy?” She feels his fingers move slowly on her back, lightly skating over her shirt.

Buffy’s face undergoes a transformation, eyebrows raising, mouth twitching into an expression of mischief, eyes twinkling with ideas that would make her mother blush. “I remember how bad I wanted you.” Meeting Spike’s eyes for a second, she leans forward and presses a kiss onto the bare skin where his shirt is open. Her second kiss is on the side of his neck. The third just below his ear. Her voice is honeyed, muffled by her kiss to his jawline. “Real real bad.” Buffy’s blunt teeth move down to slowly sink into Spike’s neck, quickly followed by one slow lick of her tongue. From the corner of her eye, she sees Spike’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. She jumps when his hands clamp around her upper arms, startling her with his strength, with the tightness of his grip. Her eyes jump to his. The look in his eyes alone makes her instantly wet. Buffy can see the muscles in his neck tighten as he just barely maintains control.

“You think you wanted me bad that night, Slayer?” His voice is dangerously deep, sending Buffy’s heart racing. “Do you have any idea what I went through when I carried you home?” She shakes her head mutely. Spike’s hands release their death grip on her arms and slowly glide down her skin. “Had this delicously warm, soft body right up against my chest, your heartbeat slow and steady, pulsing. Your strong little hands running all over me, your body shaking against mine when you laughed. Made me want to throw you down in the middle of the bloody street and rip your clothes off like an animal.”

Buffy’s eyes widen at Spike’s matter of fact admission. Somehow she had never thought of what that night was like for Spike, of when she passed out in his arms after the vamp attack. He is right, she was flirtatious and vulnerable on that walk. Before she fell unconscious, of course. She is drawn out of her memory by a loud ripping sound. Buffy looks down to find her shirt torn down the middle, hanging open. She looks back up with a smirk as Spike tries and fails to look apologetic.

“Sorry, luv. I just...couldn’t help myself.” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Only fair, Spike. Think of the recent damage I’ve done to your wardrobe.” Her eyes dance, thoughts of the naughty persuasion filling them. “So what else did you want to do to me that night? Hmm?” Buffy’s hands come up to pull the tatters of her shirt down and off, leaving her in just a tight black bra.

Spike’s hands instantly go to her bare skin, pressing into the flesh just below her neck, feeling the rapid pace of her heart under his right palm.

“Wanted to…I wanted…” Buffy hears the growl slip into his speech and sees the flecks of gold dancing in his deep blue eyes. His fingertips dig into her skin as his face tries to transform. Spike shakes it off, body trembling with effort and a healthy dose of fear.

Reading his mind, Buffy reaches up and brushes against his cheek, remembering one more detail about that night. “It was the blood, wasn’t it? You remember the smell of my blood from where I got hurt.” Spike nods, clearly not trusting his voice, his eyes locked onto the pulsing artery in her neck. Buffy moves into him, her body grazing his, the cold leather making her fight down a shiver. “Sweet sweet Slayer blood, am I right?” Without waiting for a reply, she tilts her head to the side, exposing the tiny scars where Spike tasted her a few days before. Spike’s hands shake, his eyes now darting from her neck to her eyes. Buffy’s voice continues, hypnotic, one finger trailing down her bare neck. “Intoxicating.” Spike’s gaze follows the trail her finger is burning, dropping between her breasts. “Warm. Powerful.” Suddenly, Spike’s hand comes down to cover hers, his cool fingers brushing Buffy’s chest.

“No, luv. Wasn’t the blood. Mind you, the blood was tempting, but no. The thing I wanted that was intoxicating,” His hand moves to cup her breast, applying gentle pressure. “Warm,” The other hand slides up to touch the side of her face. “And powerful…was you.”

Buffy feels a quiver of excitement from deep in her core at his words, at his voice dripping with sex and passion and most importantly, love. She knew she was more than a delicious treat to him, but it doesn’t hurt to hear it. Now he gets the reward. “But you still want the blood, eh, sweetie?” Her smile is dazzling and Spike feels a surge of emotion he is still growing used to. This side of her is so new to him. The playful, naughty flirt. She hides it well most of the time. Buffy stands on her tiptoes, pressing against him, her breasts trapping his hand between their bodies. Her voice drops to a throaty whisper on her next words. “I mean, you still really want it, right?” Her breath on his face is hot and sweet and Spike feels the bloodthirst surge to the forefront again, battling his lust for dominance.

“God, Buffy. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Buffy rolls her hips against his, feeling the obvious bulge in his pants. She continues to smile. “I’m starting to get an idea.” Spike rolls his neck, flexing the muscles in his jaw, her movements just about the end of his self-control.

“Slayer.” The voice is almost a warning. He swallows, pulling himself down into a semblance of calm. “Buffy.” Spike closes his eyes, fighting his more animalistic urges, then reopens them to find Buffy’s green eyes hooded and penetrating.

“Don’t fight it, Spike. You know I love you, don’t you?” She nods her head, coaxing Spike into nodding with her. Her fingers play with the buttons on his shirt, slowly popping them open as she talks. One hand slides under the fabric, caressing his chest. “And if I love you, I must love all of you…right? Even the lumpies and the pointy teeth?” She nods again and Spike once again follows her lead. “I mean, I’m no logician…logicist…or um, logic guy, but that makes sense to me. Okay, so stay with me on with this one. You listening?” Buffy puts one finger under Spike’s chin, drawing his glazed eyes into hers. Another nod. “And you love me, right?”

Spike finally finds his voice, gravelly and rough. “You know I do, Slayer.”

“Stands to reason that you would love my blood too, then. I mean, hello, vampire.” Buffy spreads Spike’s shirt apart, letting the bare skin of her torso kiss against his. She leans in, presses her hot lips to his chest, moves up towards his neck with tiny little nips of her teeth. “So, if I’m offering, I suggest you take. Got it?” Her last nip is sharp against his neck, her teeth nearly meeting as they catch his flesh. Spike jumps a little and feels his self-control dissolve. Her words and her breathtaking presence has done him in.

With a fierce growl and the beginnings of his game face, Spike wraps one arm around Buffy’s back, lifting her off the ground and holding her against him. Buffy is triumphant, having successfully drawn out the demon that, truth be told, makes her horny as hell. Infuriating, cocky but also sexy and dangerous. What a combination.

Spike’s tongue is slick and wet as he licks Buffy’s skin from chest to neck in one long trail. She shudders, the anticipation of having that tongue on her almost doing her in. She can feel his incredibly hard erection grinding into her through her skirt and Buffy lets out a long, slow moan.

If he needed further invitation, Spike has it. With three long strides, they are in the dining room and he drops her butt on the edge of the table and stands between her legs. His eyes meet hers in question, their color surging from blue to yellow in a dance she has never seen before. Buffy’s only answer is to lift up her hair, exposing the delicate column of her neck to the moonlight and to Spike’s burning gaze. His reply is swift and sharp, literally. In a blur of black leather and ivory skin, Buffy feels his fangs dive into her flesh without preamble and the quiver of pain and intense physical connection drives straight down into her sex, triggering an onslaught of moisture and heat.

Spike’s head swims, the blood of a Slayer, of his Slayer once again on his tongue. In the haze of the drug that is her blood, his mind reels at the implications of her continuing to offer herself to him in this way. If their bond was tight before, this makes it impenetrable. Suddenly, he feels Buffy’s warm little hands on his cock and realizes she has been busy in the few seconds since he’s bitten her. It doesn’t take long to figure out what she wants. Without releasing her neck, Spike finds her hips and lets her guide him to her opening. His thrust into her core is as sharp and sudden as his bite and he feels Buffy’s whole body react to the double penetration.

Buffy gasps, her body rocked with so many sensations all at once she can’t focus on any one of them. She revels in the intimate connection she and Spike are sharing even as she realizes the room is starting to tilt a bit off kilter. Lightheaded. Dizzy. Blood. Lack of. Just as she braces herself to stop Spike, he jerks his teeth from her neck with one supreme effort and lies his head back on her chest, gasping for air. Air he doesn’t need, but seems to crave. He is still buried in her to the hilt, but has stilled his hips.

The voice is barely audible, words spoken into her skin. “m’ sorry, luv. Almost got carried away. Kinda did, actually.”

Buffy’s hand, shaking just a bit, reaches up and strokes through his platinum curls, gently parting them this way and that, wrapping them around her fingers. The contact steadies her. “Don’t apologize, Spike. Willing participant, remember?” Her neck burns where he bit her but it feels like her skin is already closing around the punctures. Good old Slayer healing powers save the day once again. Spike’s unnatural breathing slows as he gains back some fragments of his self-control. The blinding bloodlust subsides, quickly replaced and surpassed by lust with a capital L. It is no coincidence that Buffy takes this chance to remind him of her talent at controlling all her muscles, even those currently surrounding his cock. He jumps a little, standing up straight, as Buffy makes her presence known with authority. His knees nearly buckle as Buffy’s legs wrap around his waist, pulling him into her warmth.

“Sure you’re okay, luv?” Buffy nods and Spike finally grins at her, licking his lips slowly.

“Was it good?” Buffy tilts her head at him, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Good? Good doesn’t begin to cover it, pet. Like heaven, or what I imagine heaven might be for a bloke like me.”

Buffy smiles, his answer clearly satisfactory. “Well, don’t stop now.” She pulses her hips against him and feels his cock harden further inside.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Spike plants his hands down on the table on either side of Buffy’s hips. He pulls back out of her, nearly withdrawing completely. Before Buffy can whimper in protest, he drives back home with a force that lifts her off the table. The gentle bump elicits a gasp of pleasure from Buffy and she takes a death grip on his shoulders with each hand. Again and again, Spike thrusts into her, hard and fast. Both so taken with the fury of this coupling, they can do nothing but look at each other. Buffy has been trying to lure him into completely letting go with her and finally has her wish. His inhibition dissolves in the face of his blood sated self and he claims her over and over again as his own. With bruising intensity, Buffy meets him at every entrance, her strength more than a match for his, a tussle of will and love and desire investing each action. Close to coming since Spike first licked her neck, Buffy finally releases, coming with a frenzy, her muscles spasming. Spike growls, her sudden clenching the last step on his path to a body-rocking orgasm. His growl rises up from his throat, accompanied by those gold-flecked eyes, before exploding into a roar of satisfaction. Their bodies move together for seconds afterward as they collapse into each other, still upright. Buffy’s legs slide loosely to rest on Spike’s hips as his hands come to rest on her upper thighs. Slicked in sweat, Buffy tucks her head into Spike’s neck, smelling the musk of him, the incredible maleness of her love. Her body continues to lightly convulse, unwilling to let this orgasm end before finally going slack.

Noting that Buffy is limp as a rag doll, Spike moves his arms around her, gathering her up. She locks her legs around his waist again, snuggling deeper into his chest.

“Upstairs, my love?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Sated and sleepy, Buffy presses her lips into Spike’s neck, making soft noises.

Spike’s heart threatens to burst at the sweetness in his arms. How can he possibly leave her? He stops walking suddenly at this unexpected thought. Leave her? Why did he think that? Rupert’s words of earlier that evening surge over him in a nauseating wave. He shakes his head. Not now. Don’t think of it now. He looks down at the top of Buffy’s blond head, his expression soft with affection.

Not now.

* * * * * Chapter 37: Fears * * * * *



“My love, what’s wrong?” Cupid’s face wrinkles in concern as he enters his chamber to the sound of quiet sniffling.

Psyche turns, tears streaming down her cherubic face, her dark brown eyes glistening. “Oh, my dear, there is nothing wrong. Just look…” She sighs and turns back to the scene unfolding below her in the gazing pool. Cupid leans over her shoulder to see what she sees.

* * *

Spike is leaning over Buffy’s bed, gently setting her down and unfolding her limbs from his. Buffy’s head lolls, as she is clearly sound asleep. Spike slides his hand under her head to keep it from falling backwards as he places it on the pillow. He slips her legs under the sheet and pulls it up to cover her. Buffy wiggles a bit in her sleep, making quiet murmurs and burrowing into the covers. Spike freezes, making sure she is staying asleep before he moves another muscle. When Buffy settles back into a deep sleep, he moves back to stand up straight. He hesitates, one hand reaching out tentatively to brush a loose lock of hair from her face. His fingers just graze her warm skin and his hand shakes a little. Without thinking, he leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to her forehead. He stands back up slowly, watching her closely. She stays asleep. Spike backs away from the bed and lowers himself into the chair near Buffy’s window. He sits on the edge of the seat, hands clasped, moonlight coming over one shoulder. His eyes are locked on the sleeping form in the bed, the expression in them soft, tender and wracked with worry.



* * *



Psyche looks up at Cupid, tears drying in salty trails down her cheeks. “Have you ever seen anything more sweet, my dear? Oh, he loves her so much.” Psyche sighs, fingers trailing in the water below, swirling the scene into undulating ripples.

Cupid rests his hand on her shoulder for a moment before speaking. His voice is serious. “I’ve returned from my visit, darling.”

“Oh! Yes, how did it go? Did you get any answers from those three?” Psyche jumps to her feet, facing Cupid. “They won’t truly let him die, will they? Not when they’ve just found each other?” Her eyes begin to well again.

“Have you ever spoken with the Fates, my sweet one? I wish it were so easy. It is purely impossible to get a straight answer from any one of them. Every other phrase out of their mouths is ‘And so it shall be’ and ‘destiny waits for no man.’ It is truly annoying.” Unused to feeling frustration, Cupid runs his hands through his golden hair, clearly unsettled. “I tried to find out if they altered our course and they just would not admit it. They are the only beings on this plane that can shape the actions of the gods, but still they avoid my questions. I know they did it. Somehow, they have been behind our plans all along without our knowledge.” Cupid paces the chamber, agitation plain on his chiseled features.

“But…putting the vampire and Slayer together was our idea. Not theirs… I don’t…” Psyche’s voice trails off in confusion.

“I know. I know. It seemed like it was our idea, but that is exactly what they do. They arrange the fates of people, make things happen in certain ways. I appealed to Lachesis for more information about the path chosen for these two, but she was stubborn as the other two. Clotho would only say, ‘I spun his thread over a hundred years ago and wove it strong. He was chosen to exist for this length of time. Hers is equally strong if not so long.’ And then Lachesis said, ‘His lot has been decided much as hers was when she was Chosen. He too has been Chosen.’ I asked them what he was Chosen for and they just stopped talking. Atropos just sat there with her shears, snipping away at threads of life as if she was doing her sewing. Finally, I was dismissed from their presence like a small child with these words from the measurer, from Lachesis: ‘What should happen will happen, Eros. He will make his Choice.’” Cupid sighs. “I can only say this, my love, those three goddesses do something no other being can.” He stops walking and turns to his mate. “They frighten me.”

“You? But, my dearest, you are a god. They cannot harm you. Atropos cannot cut your thread of life. Her power is only for the human world.” Psyche feels a deep relief that Jupiter made her immortal when she came to Olympus as Cupid’s bride.

“My sweet angel, I still cannot risk angering them. They are the only among us that can control the other gods and goddesses. It is most unnerving.” Cupid pulls his lover into his arms, holding her tight. “I do not like to think that my actions are not my own. I only hope I can intervene or assist our two lovers in staying together. Somehow.”

Uncomfortable with their lack of power in this situation, Cupid and Psyche turn their eyes back to the pool to see what the night brings.

* * *

Spike is still seated in the chair at the foot of Buffy’s bed, the turmoil inside visible in his strained expression. Having changed positions in the chair several times over the last hour or so, he leans forward again, elbows on knees, eyes staring blankly ahead before his face finally falls into his hands. He rubs at his face, hoping to wipe away some of the thoughts stabbing through his mind. When he looks up again, his eyes are moist with unshed tears. Buffy turns over in her sleep, grasping her pillow tightly. Spike’s gaze travels up her body, from the shape hidden in the sheet to the bare skin exposed above. Her golden hair is blue silver in the moonlight, making her look like some otherworldly creature. Spike’s heart aches at the sight of her, so peaceful and calm. And yet he knows her body is always on alert, could leap into fighting form if needed. That’s one of the reasons he loves her. This delicate shell surrounding a core of iron will. How could he not love a creature like that? Spike grimaces. How could he possibly make a decision that ended his time with her? But then again, how could he not? From the sound of what Rupert said, one choice saves her and the rest of the human race while damning him and the other choice does just the opposite. Either way, he is lost. Spike wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, frustrated with his helplessness. He doesn’t like playing these games. Just point him at a good fight and cut him loose. The muscles in his jaw twitch, the tension becoming unbearable. He should be in bed with her, that soft body pulled tight against him, but his fear of losing her has him pulled taut as a bowstring waiting to be plucked.

Finally, he reaches a decision. As loath as he is to leave her alone, this cannot wait. On silent cat feet, Spike slips out into the hallway and works his way downstairs, refastening his shirt and jeans. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, before looking back up, straining to hear Buffy’s regular breaths. Finally, with a sigh, he moves to the front door and pulls it open, stalking out into the late night.



*BANG BANG BANG* Spike pounds on the front door of Giles’ apartment relentlessly. “’ey, Rupert! Rise and shine, mate!” *BANG BANG BA - * “Oh, there you are.” The door swings open in mid-bang to reveal a bleary-eyed Giles, his robe thrown haphazardly around him, hair sticking up in every direction.

His voice is tired and extremely irritated. “Spike, what in god’s name are you doing here?”

Spike leans past him, peering into the dark room. “What, you were asleep? Thought you lot were going to research the night away.”

“My apologies, Spike, but it’s the middle of the night. We decided to take a break and resume first thing.” Giles rubs at his eyes, fumbling in his pocket for his glasses. “What do you want?” Spike walks past Giles into the living room, flopping down in the nearest easy chair. “Oh, by all bloody means, do come in.” Giles sighs, closing the front door. He turns on a lamp and takes a seat on the couch opposite Spike, sliding his glasses onto his face.

“So, did you and the witches find anything useful? Any quick fix to my little problem?” Spike strains to look unconcerned as Giles looks at him, his tone light.

“No, Spike, we did not. I have a few ideas on the origin of the prophecy, but I have to get additional texts out of storage in the morning to check the details.” Rubbing his eyes under his glasses, Giles runs his hand through his hair. He looks curiously at the vampire across from him. Something in his body language is off.

“’Cause, here’s the thing. Not quite ready to go, see. So, I’d appreciate some idea of how I can stick around a bit longer and not damn humanity in the bargain.” Spike’s complete turnaround from earlier, from his confidence and nonchalance, is unnerving to the Watcher. He squints at Spike, whose face is partly in shadow.

“Spike, you came over here in the middle of the night, presumably leaving Buffy, just to check on our progress in research?”

“Yeah, well. I’m a vampire, don’t sleep much at night, anyway. Buffy was out cold.” Spike shifts in his seat, hands running up and down his thighs. Talking to the Watcher has never been comfortable, he’s always so disapproving.

“And?” Giles knows there is more.

“And…well, don’t want to leave. Don’t want to leave her.” Spike fiddles with the leather of his duster, leaning forward into the light before casting his eyes up to meet Giles’.

Giles is struck by the open wound in that gaze. The burning pain surging through those deep blue eyes. “My god, Spike…” Giles struggles, struck wordless. The idea of Spike loving Buffy this much is so new. While he wholeheartedly approves, he is still not fully used to the idea. Only last week, they were still fighting all the time. But this pain, this love, it’s rolling off Spike in waves, like a physical force.

Spike clears his throat, swallowing his desire to be brave and tough in front of the other man. “I love her, Giles. Love her more than I thought possible. She’s my…she’s my everything.” His voice quivers on the last word. Spike’s head drops again, his declaration taking their toll on his composure. Needs the Watcher’s help, doesn’t mean he needs to see him cry. The two Englishmen have always had an adversarial relationship and yet, Giles finds himself softening towards the blond vampire. He knows Spike loves her and that she loves him, but the realization that Spike might be willing to do anything in service of that love…that’s a thought he had not examined. And yet here he is, desperate for an answer, nearly begging. Something Spike is not prone to do. If only he could help him.

Giles’ voice is gentle, fatherly. “I know, Spike. I know.” Giles feels almost queasy in the presence of a creature suffering so. “I love her, too, you know. I…don’t have any answer yet. I wish I did. I…don’t want you to have to leave her, either.” As soon as he says it, Giles knows he believes it in his heart of hearts. Buffy was glowing tonight. Happy. He would give anything to give her that feeling always. The two of them are bound by an abounding affection – she the daughter he never had and he the father she always craved.

Silence takes hold of the room, thickening as minutes pass and Spike keeps his head down. Finally, he lifts it, eyes dark and piercing but also deeply sad. “I’ll do the right thing, Rupert. Don’t worry.” Spike gets to his feet.

Giles sighs, furrowing his brow, scrambling for another alternative. “Well, there is still a chance the transliteration is flawed…maybe it’s…”

Spike shakes his head, cutting off Giles’ ramblings. “I’ll be ready. I’ll still be bloody well hoping you find an answer, but if you don’t…I’ll do it.” He turns away, his next words quieter and far away. “I’ll leave her…so she can live.” Spike cuts his eyes over his shoulder at Giles. “I just thought you would want to know and all.”

Before Giles can speak, Spike makes for the door. His hand is on the knob before Giles blurts out, “Spike. You…if it counts for anything…I wish it could be different.”

Spike turns the knob to leave, never turning back to the saddened Watcher. “Thanks, mate.” The door closes behind him with a click both final and ominous to Giles’ ears. He stares at the closed door for several minutes before going to his writing desk and clicking on the lamp. Refastening his robe firmly, he takes a seat and opens the text there in the pool of light. Giles adjusts his glasses and starts to read again, hoping he missed something…

* * *

Spike lopes down the sidewalk, heading back towards Buffy’s house. His gait is tighter than normal, the predatory grace slightly restricted. The smells of the night, the sights and sounds that usually make him feel alive and raring to go, are dull to him. His mind is clouded with anger and frustration, tainted with a dose of fear. Spike fights the urge to just yell: ‘It’s not fair!’ Of course it’s not fair. He scowls, letting his footsteps fall a bit harder as he continues towards Revello Drive.

* * *

A bonfire blazes, throwing orange sparks high into the night sky. The half moon shines down, its light covering the group in blue shadow. Buffy looks around, sees her friends standing to either side of her, fear on their faces, eyes locked straight ahead. She slowly turns, heart pounding, towards the focus of their attention. Spike. His back is to her, facing the flame. He is talking, but she can’t see past the blazing flame to see who he is addressing. He shakes his head. She squints, trying to see past him, but the light of the fire is blinding her. He shakes his head again, more vehemently and roars, “NO!” Anger is pouring off him, generating its own heat. Buffy tries to move forward, but Xander holds her arm, whispering in her ear. “You can’t interfere, Buffy.” Just then, Spike drops to his knees and screams in pain. Buffy screams along with him.

* * *

Spike’s head lifts as the night air is broken by a scream. Buffy’s scream. All his thoughts are pushed roughly aside at the sound of his love in pain. He breaks into a run, only a block from her house, duster flying behind him. Flinging the door open and taking the steps three at a time, Spike crashes into her bedroom to find Buffy still screaming, eyes closed. He grabs her shoulders and shakes her. “Buffy!! Wake up, luv!”

The scream finally fades as Buffy’s eyes pop open, instantly wet with tears. “Oh god, Spike. I…I…it was awful…”

Spike pulls her into his arms, sitting on the bed with her. “Just a dream, pet. Don’t worry.” He strokes her hair with his hand and realizes they are both shaking, hard. Spike tips her chin up. “Are you okay?” He takes his hand and brushes her hair off her wet cheeks, then leans down to plant a light kiss on her lips.

Buffy tightens her grip around him, not meeting his eyes when she answers. “I’m fine, Spike. Just a dream, like you said.” She stares off into the shadows of her room, thankful that Spike doesn’t know her dreams, her dreams like the one she just had, are often prophetic thanks to her Slayer abilities. “Where did you go?” She tries to shove the fear down. It won’t help Spike to hear it.

Spike untangles himself from her grip and stands up. He drops his duster on the ground in a heap, followed by his shirt and jeans. Buffy can’t help but smile at the display of his gorgeous naked body. “Just went for a walk, Buffy. Some fresh air. I’m sorry, luv.” Spike decides it is best not to mention his late night visit to Giles. It will only serve to worry her more that Giles didn’t know anything…and that Spike was scared enough to go ask.

“S’okay. You’re here now. And naked.” The terror lessening slightly, Buffy reaches out to take his hand, pulling him into bed. Slipping under the covers, she curls into his body and he holds her tight. Eyes finally meeting, tenderness flowing between them, their fears remain unspoken but not unshared in that moment of knowing. Neither chooses to ask about the depth of fear in the other’s eyes because they know. They know that tomorrow night at this time, they may not be together. And it makes them hold onto each other a just little bit tighter.

* * * * * Chapter 38: A Bit of the Rough and Tumble * * * * *

“Spike?”

Buffy’s voice cracks the brittle silence of the dark room. Both were lying still, nowhere near sleep, nowhere near rest.

“Yes?”

“Where did you really go?”

Spike sighs, running his hands up and down her bare arms. “Thought I was a good liar, luv.”

“You may be, but I know you.” Buffy props herself up on elbow, looking down at Spike’s face. He struggles to not meet her eyes, gazing off into the room. “Not sure how I know you so well, but I do. It’s like looking in the mirror sometimes…” She waits. “Not answering the question, Spike.”

Finally, he turns his eyes back from the shadows and looks up at her. His eyes are bottomless, so many emotions swirling in the depths. “Went for a walk…” Buffy lifts an eyebrow and Spike continues. “…to see your Watcher.” He stops there.

Buffy blinks. She’s not sure what she thought he would say, but somehow that wasn’t it. She figured he went and got in a bar fight or staked a few vamps to get out some frustration, some extra energy. Without her, which bugged her. But talking to Giles? She searches his face, eyes dancing back and forth over it, looking for a hint. She sees it. A small twitch in the mouth, slight tightening of his jaw. Buffy feels herself go cold all over. He’s scared. It’s the only reason he would go to Giles in the middle of the night. And with that thought, all her bravura, all her confidence, all her belief in things turning out right drops, falls away from her with a sickening, crunching thud. Ever since leaving Giles’ house tonight, she had found a way to push further and further back from reality, unwilling to consider the alternative. Trying to get lost in Spike and not the possible loss of him. Fights to the death were her thing. If that was the challenge Giles had thrown down, she would have been fine. Even a little excited to get it done. But being asked to watch her love, the one she just found by a twist of fate, to watch him suffer and die on her behalf. Without being able to help? No. That was something she could not process, could not possibly accept. The Slayer is a woman of action, not of standing around. So she put her fear in a spot somewhere deep and locked it up. Pretended whatever got her through the next few hours – that Giles was wrong, that it wouldn’t actually happen that Spike was not the one in the prophecy.

But Spike’s fear slices through her carefully constructed fortress like a blade through paper. Releasing her fear, her abject terror, into the open. It’s all real. Buffy starts to shake, reliving the nightmare she just woke from. The heat from the bonfire burns her, his scream echoes in her mind.

Spike’s brow knits instantly at the tremors running through her body. “Buffy? What is it? Why…” He tightens his grip on her arms as she starts to shake harder and gasps for air. Spike can see her eyes glaze over, as if she is somewhere distant. He takes one hand and gently caresses her cheek. She swims back to the surface and looks into his concerned face, willing herself to not go completely to pieces. She draws on her innate ability as the Slayer to face adversity and remain strong. She bites her lip, trying to pull the tears back inside. He sees them threatening to tip over the edge and shakes his head. “No, luv. Don’t cry. I just had some questions for old Ripper, eh? Sounds like a pretty big deal tomorrow and I was just…wanting to be prepared is all.”

Buffy tries a smile in the face of his attempt at soothing her. “Not usually a blubbering kinda girl, Spike. Look what you bring out of me.”

“’m sorry, pet.” He looks genuinely worried.

Buffy cocks her head at him, at this demon in man’s clothing. Or is it a man in demon’s clothing? Yes, definitely the second one. She aches. Her heart beats hard, her skin feels much too tight. Just looking at him makes her whole body throb in time with her accelerating heart. She’s just about given up questioning the intense physical and now emotional reaction Spike elicits. Better to go with it. Action, reaction. It’s all instinct for her.

The silence lengthens as the two study each other. Both torn up inside over the possible end of this short passionate time together. Fear mixes with desire and anger with lust. Muscles twitch in anticipation of…well, they are not sure. The bodies of two warriors ache with the uncertainty. Both would rather be pointed at a big ugly foe rather than a bunch of words in a musty old text. What kind of enemy was that?

Buffy’s jaw sets, a familiar sight to the vampire across from her. She always looks that way when she…

“Wanna fight.” Buffy is not surprised at the completely confused expression that washes over Spike. Before he can question her abrupt declaration, she gets up from the bed and starts pulling on tight black workout pants. “I need to…I need to go on patrol.”

Spike sighs, thinking maybe Buffy is pulling away, running from her emotions into her sacred duty. Her voice cuts through his thoughts, “Are you planning to fight naked? I mean…I don’t mind, but…” He turns to see her wriggling into a white tank top and tucking her hair into a low ponytail. “You are coming, right?” She comes over, taking his arm and snapping him out of his confusion.

“’course, luv. Mind if I ask why the sudden need for violence?” Spike finds his clothes and starts to get dressed., relieved that she is not retreating.

“Not violence that I need exactly, Spike. A fight. I need to win a fight.” She tightens her jaw and he understands. She is feeling helpless in the face of the upcoming badness. She wants to beat something up. This is something he has always understood.

“Good enough for me. Shall we?” Spike holds out his hand to his Slayer and she takes it with a small smile. Moments later, they hit the cool night, bodies thrumming with anticipation. Buffy cuts her eyes to Spike, seeing the confident smirk, the swagger in his walk that gives her thoughts of the downright dirty variety. The connection between them is alive, muscles moving under clothing in smooth cadence to an unheard beat. Spike feels her eyes on him and gives her a look, eyes smoldering. Two things he loves, this little firecracker and a good fight. Tonight, he gets both and he almost feels sorry for the first vamp they find, aside from himself, of course.

Buffy feels a delicious warmth fill her, just being next to him as they stride across town to the cemetery. Going on patrol is not usually quite this sexually charged for her, but tonight, it is positively electric. She knows him, knows his body and his fighting style, and a small secret part of her admits that she always thought it was hot, long before she felt the sting of Cupid’s arrow. Just as they finally enter the cemetery, she slows down enough to fall back a few steps, eyes dropping down his back, watching the ripples of muscle under his black t-shirt and tight jeans. Buffy is grateful he left the duster at her house so she could get the rear view she rarely sees. Eyes locked on his ass, her tongue touches her bottom lip, wetting it.

Feeling Buffy drop her pace, Spike cuts his eyes over his shoulder without slowing down and catches her checking him out. He grins.

“Like what you see, luv?”

Buffy blushes slightly at being caught, but is still fairly unabashed in her admiration. “Yep.”

Spike stops and turns, amused by Buffy’s small frown that her view has been taken away. He hooks one thumb in the front of his jeans, tugging them down just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin. Buffy decides the view has actually improved.

“I’m always up for a sudden change of plans, pet, but I did think you were keen on a fight, bit of the rough and tumble?” He lifts his eyebrows, loading every word with double meaning.

Buffy puts her hands on her hips, studying the cocky figure in front of her. “Sounds like two different things to me, Spike. A fight is one thing…but a bit of the rough and tumble…” She slips closer to him, but not quite touching. Buffy leans in, her lips mere inches from his, breath hot on his skin. “…that’s a whole other thing, eh, Spike?” Her tongue darts out to wet her top lip.

Just as Buffy starts to lean into Spike, eyes slipping closed, her internal warning bells start ringing. Over his shoulder, she sees the reason for it. Two vamps approaching slowly from behind Spike, still about twenty yards off. They don’t notice that she sees them and Buffy gets an idea. Playing dumb worked great the other night when some vamps tried to sneak up on she and Spike. This will be fun. With barely a hitch in her movement, Buffy brings her lips closer to Spikes and then whispers to him at a nearly inaudible level, “Play along, Spike. Two vamps coming up behind.”

“I know, Slayer.” He winks at her and before she can respond, grabs her against him and slams his lips down on hers. Briefly startled, she recovers quickly and finds herself falling deeply into the kiss. She can tell he is getting off on this as much as she is. Teasing, dancing on the edge of danger. As proper as she may try to be by the daylight, this is when she feels well and truly alive. And he loves it as much as she does. Buffy moans and bites into Spike’s bottom lip, her body reacting mightily to the hard form pressed against hers as well as the dangerous game they are playing. Her hands slide down and around, taking a tight grip on his jean-clad ass.

Spike smiles against her mouth. That’s his girl. Ever since he heard the vamps approaching, he watched her body for a signal. Before she even realized it, her body temperature started to rise, her heartbeat picked up. Reacting to the fight, the kill, by coming to full alertness. God, it made him insanely hot to see her light up like that. A low growl rumbles up from his chest, sending delicious vibrations through both their bodies. Releasing her mouth, he dives down to nip at her neck. Buffy throws her head to the side, easing his access to her bare skin. She risks opening her eyes a slit to see the vamps taking flank positions to their left and right. Clearly, they think they’ve found some stupid kids making out in a cemetery. Easy prey. How wrong they are. Well, except for the making out part, of course.

Buffy turns her head back to Spike, putting her lips against his neck. With one slow lick, she travels up his neck to his ear. Another soft whisper, “You want the one on the right or left?” Before he answers, she bares her teeth, taking a sharp hold on the lobe. Spike jumps, the pain just enough to get his full attention. His left hand slides up cup Buffy’s breast over her tank top. He takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, enjoying the sharp intake of breath as she reacts.

His mouth still against her neck, he replies, “The one to my right, luv.”

Buffy’s rolls her hips against his, sending an engraved invitation to his throbbing erection. Spike uses all his willpower to not throw her down on the hard ground and shag her senseless. Sod the stupid vamps. She was driving him mad. Mouth covering the line of his jaw, she whispers, “I’m going around and over your back, okay? On my ount?”

Spike nods, almost imperceptibly, leaning down to kiss along Buffy’s collarbone. His traveling right hand finds the stake tucked in the back of her waistband. He leaves it for now. A little hand to hand first. For fun.

Buffy kisses back down his neck, lips brushing lightly across his skin. “One.” He can almost feel her more than hear her. She leans back enough to take his mouth with her again, tongue dancing across his lips. Breaking contact for a breath, “Two.”

Spike’s hands move to her arms, gently skating over her bare flesh. He knows – and loves - the move she wants to do. Not enough to just kick the crap out of a vampire, she’s gotta make it hot, too.

Buffy’s eyes cut left and right. The vamps are making their move, closing in from both sides at the same time. She brings her gaze back to center and locks into Spike’s for a split second. Words unspoken, their look says it all. Time for action. Without a sound, Buffy mouths the word both their bodies are coiled and ready for.

Three.

In the space of a breath, Buffy steps to the side and around, throwing herself back to back with Spike, as he leans down, letting her legs pinwheel above her. Both feet come down in succession on the vamp leaping toward them from Spike’s left, knocking him to the ground. Free of the Slayer on his back, Spike shoots out his right leg, cracking the other vamp just below the knee, shattering the bone and dropping him instantly. Now facing their opponents with their backs to each other, Buffy and Spike take a moment to enjoy the look of shock on the two writhing vamps’ faces.

Buffy cocks her head, hands on hips. “Hellooo, boys. Slayer here. Not too…”

“…bloody bright if you ask me.” Spike cracks his neck, fists up and ready. “Now, come on! Get up and…”

“…take a shot. You know you want to. I’ll even let you…”

“…get all the way up before I knock you on your ass this time.” Spike’s grin spreads as the vamp at his feet growls, yellow eyes flashing up at him. Spike gestures for him to get up with both hands, egging him on. Buffy’s vamp continues to pant on the ground, holding his head and groaning. She looks over her shoulder to see Spike bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he always does during a fight. Rocking back and forth, waiting for his opponent to blink. Not wanting to get caught up in admiring her lover’s fighting ability, Buffy turns her attention back to her vamp. She has a split second to curse as the vampire leaps at her, knocking her to the ground beneath him, off to the side. Buffy lets out a small ‘oof’ as they land. Mad at herself for letting her guard down, she growls at the vamp. “You are so going to regret that. Do you know how hard it is to get grass stains out of this top?” Buffy curls up, shoving her feet into the vamp’s midsection and kicking him clear over her head. Popping to her feet, she spins on him. She hears Spike’s voice.

“Too right, mate. You’re in trouble. She hates to do the washing.” She cuts her eyes at him, catching him kick his vamp under the chin, sending him sprawling on his back in the grass before throwing a dashing grin her direction.

Buffy rolls her eyes at Spike before returning her attention to her opponent. No sense getting knocked on her rear again because of the distraction of Spike. He gets to his feet, looking at her warily, body slightly hunched.

“Gonna kill you, Slayer,” the vamp growls at her.

Buffy puts one hand on her hip, the other to her mouth, covering a mock yawn. “In all the time it took you to rise, THAT was the scariest thing you could come up with to say to me?” Buffy swings her right leg up and over, cracking the vamp across the cheek. She follows with a quick left to the face and a right to the stomach, doubling him over. “’Cause I hate to break it to ya, but no. You’re not.” Her next left, a sharp uppercut, sends him flying through the air. He comes down on a tombstone, cracking his back. Keeping one eye on him, she turns to watch Spike.

His vamp back on his feet, Spike lays into him with a series of punches, spinning like a whirling dervish. The vamp’s body bounces back and forth, buffeted by the force of one punch after another. She can tell that he would likely drop if Spike only stopped hitting him for a second. Which he does and she watches the vamp tip forwards, unconscious before he hits the ground. Spike frowns at the still form in front of him before turning to the Slayer. Her chest heaves, partly from the mild exertion of her fight, but mostly from the sight of him in action. Behind her, he sees the vamp scramble up from the tombstone he landed on. Buffy sees him start to speak, to warn her, but she stops him by mouthing ‘I know.’ Spike runs his tongue over his front teeth, wondering if this girl could be any more blazing hot. As the vamp increases speed and leaves his feet to tackle her, Buffy finally breaks her eye contact with Spike, ducking forward. Startled but unable to stop his motion, the vamp starts over her head. Buffy’s arm shoots up, grabbing him by the shirt and using his momentum to carry him to the ground. In the same smooth motion, her other arms pulls the stake from the back of her pants. Dropping to one knee, she brings the stake down and plunges it straight into his heart, dusting him. Spike chuckles, both hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“Slayer, have I told you lately that you are bloody amazing?”

Buffy takes the tip of the stake in her hand and waves Spike down. “Spike, get down!” Dropping instantly to a crouch, Spike watches Buffy zing the stake through the air, straight through the heart of his newly recovered opponent coming up behind him. When the cloud of dust clears, he turns to see the stake quivering in the bark of the tree ten feet behind him. He turns back to grin at Buffy, who is getting to her feet, brushing her hands off on her pants.

“No, Spike. Not lately.” She grins at him, skin flushed with excitement.

“Well, you are. Happy now? You got the fight you wanted.”

Buffy saunters closer to the black clad vamp. “Yeah, but now I want that bit of the rough and tumble.”

Spike laughs, deep in his throat. “Girl after my own heart.” Buffy’s mouth on his ends any further conversation.