Notes: This follows on from where my fic "Spike’s Will Be Done" left off and is pretty much a sequel to that story, so things will only really make sense if you read it first. I did try to summarise it, but it just kept getting longer and longer, so all I can say is unless you’re only interested in the smut go read the other story first.
For those of you who are wondering why the spelling of colour in the title doesn’t agree with standard UK usage like the rest of the story, it’s because it refers to the song by Cyndi Lauper, who of course spelled it the American way in her lyrics.
Thanks go out to my two betas MadRog and t_geyer, without whom, no one other than me would be reading this. Before they came on board, this was just one chapter running to two hundred plus pages. They helped to sort out a workable structure and are currently giving me the necessary prompting to expand on certain plot lines raised within the story so far. You can find all MadRog’s stories at http://www.sunnydale-tales.com the site she shares with Isis and they’re well worth a read.
SECTION 1 – LEAP OF FAITH
And it’s a leap of
faith
When you believe there’s someone out there
It’s a leap of faith
When you believe that
Someone cares, oh
And when I call out to you
Will you be right there
Right there
(Michelle Branch, Album Broken Bracelet)
Chapter 1.01
Sunday Night
Spike moved around the pool table cue in hand, checking for a viable shot. He absently chalked the end of his cue and then leant over to go for a cushion shot into the centre pocket, speaking as he cued.
"…Couldn’t give a toss what gets said when it’s the two of us…" Straight shot into the two touching balls lined up for the corner pocket with a bit of bottom to run back to take the second. "It’s not like you haven’t been mouthing off as long as I’ve known you. Truth be known, I quite enjoy a bit of bickering now and again. As long as you don’t start about Buffy and me." Clear up that second ball follow through off the top cushion and down to the other end of the table.
"I know I don’t deserve her and I’m not going to say I do. I understand her and I think I can make her happy and I’ll shift heaven and hell to do it if I have to." Edge that one into the bottom corner off his and get the right amount of side on it the cue ball will just trickle into the other pocket without it being too obvious. "Foul stroke. Two shots to you. Point is there’s nothing you can say on that subject that I’m going to listen to. Bringing it up isn’t going to cause anything but problems. I’m not asking for your approval, and finally neither is she." Spike pulled a cigarette from his pack, frowning at how few were left, before lighting it.
"Other than that, when it’s just us blokes, say whatever the hell you want and use whatever nicknames you want, but in front of your missus and in front of Buffy we either talk civil-like or we stay shut the hell up. I don’t want Anya upset and I won’t have Buffy upset." Bloody whelp was going to win now, bugger. Oh well, at least there wasn’t money involved this time and it might make him a bit too cocky next time there was.
"Agreed?" Spike asked.
"Agreed, Fangless." The black ball rolled into the pocket. Two of Spike’s balls still left on the table.
"Best head back over and play nice with the womenfolk then, Whelp. It might be an idea if you ‘n’ the slayer sort out your differences on the dance-floor. I don’t want her frettin’ over it when it can all be sorted out if you talk to each other for five minutes. I know I’ve got a little proposition I need to talk to your better half about anyway."
Spike walked off ahead of Xander who was left wondering what the vampire was up to now. When they got back to their table Willow and Buffy were up on the dance-floor and Dawn had moved to sit between Tara and Anya.
"How about a dance, pet?" Spike asked Anya. "About time I claimed a kiss from the bride and you can dish the dirt on how married life is treating you." He led her over to a corner of the floor away from all of the others. The pair chatted amicably enough for the duration of a couple of songs or so it seemed, though if anyone was to observe really closely they might have realised that Spike had been keen to assure that none of the other Scoobies could overhear. After some time the two came back to the table and Spike gave Anya a kiss on the cheek before sitting down next to Dawn to watch Xander and Buffy. The vampire savoured being able to watch his beloved openly and without having to disguise his feelings.
She had such a frail graceful beauty, hiding a core of inner strength. Her long ebony skirt rippled and flowed as she moved, giving subtle hints as to the figure underneath in a way that Spike found far more alluring than either a mini-skirt or her more customary tight pants. Her crimson halter-top was made of satin and offered a tactile invitation to explore both the areas it concealed and the soft flesh of her back that it exposed. Her hair was held back on either side by a small silver clip so that her face was framed by wispy golden tendrils. It almost reached her shoulders again and bounced and shone as she moved to the music. A black choker adorned with a crimson rose circled her neck. It attracted his attention to that area as it would that of any vampire, yet at the same time, it created a barrier where normally there would be none. It drew attention from the scars left on her by his grand-sire and Dracula, but in doing so, he was reminded of their existence.
He was aware of every aspect of her appearance, yet it was her face that commanded the bulk of his attention. He watched carefully for any sign that Xander might have upset her, ready to rescue her at a second’s notice. At first, things seemed a little uncomfortable between the pair but minutes later, when she became aware of Spike’s gaze she rewarded him with a toothpaste commercial smile. For a fraction of a second he instinctively answered like with like until the Big Bad regained control and turned it into a leering smirk, which in turn almost made her laugh.
Of late, in repose her face had seemed gaunt, her eyes too big. Yet when she smiled like that the balance of her features was restored, and she was once again the beauty he fell in love with.
He was suddenly distracted from his observation of his girlfriend, (finally he could say she was his girlfriend) by a sharp pain in his arm. He turned to face Dawn.
"Bloody hell. What was that for, ‘Bit?"
"When you’re quite finished ogling my sister, and you’ve wiped the drool off your chin, you might notice that Tara and Willow have been trying to get your attention to say goodnight for the last ten minutes."
Spike’s hand was halfway to his lips before he paused. "I do not drool." He turned to where Tara and Willow waited with their coats on.
"I thought we’d all be walking back together?" his tone turned his statement into a question.
"We thought we’d stay at the dorm," Tara replied. "But at least one of us will be around to watch Dawn after school tomorrow."
"Okay then, pet." He hugged both the women in turn. "Take care of yourselves."
He looked around for a clock; surprised to see it was already quarter to eleven. "Great, looks like you’re going to miss your curfew, Niblet."
"Yeah, but Buffy’s with me so it doesn’t count."
"There might not be anyone sitting at home wondering where you are, but you’ve still got to get up for school in the morning, love. Best get your coat."
Spike had just shrugged into his own coat when a petite pair of arms circled his waist from behind. He turned to give Buffy a gentle kiss. "Figured it was time we got Bit home and into bed or she won’t make it to school in the morning."
Buffy looked at the clock. "I guess that bit of the night where you hid on the balcony while the cops did the statement thing took longer than any of us realised." She released her grip on Spike to reach for her coat, but he got there first and held it out ready for her to put it on. Instead of letting her shrug her shoulders into position she felt his hands gently run from her collar down over the top of the lapels laying the soft hide gently in place. His cheek brushed against hers in a touch so subtle she almost thought she dreamt it except for the cool tingling sensation that affected her skin for minutes afterward.
Spike watched as his two girls said their good-byes to the newlyweds, pleased for Buffy’s sake to note that she must have got things pretty well patched up with the boy if he was getting a hug. Then he moved forward, enfolding Anya in his arms.
"I hope you’re going to be very happy, pet. You deserve it. I’ll see you some time tomorrow."
He moved across to Xander and held his hand out toward him. ‘Go on, Whelp, take it or we both end up looking like a couple of prats.’ For a couple of seconds the other man stared at the proffered hand as if unsure as to what was expected, before he grasped it in a brief handshake.
"Take good care of her. You’re a lucky man." Spike’s words held the vaguest of threats, which was reciprocated in the groom’s reply.
"You too, Spike." Xander nodded in Buffy’s direction and his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "You too…"
Spike and his slayer strolled hand in hand towards Revello Drive. Dawn teetered along holding on to his other arm and cursing the vanity that had made her wear her new high heels. Now aside from having sore feet, the longer the walk home took, the more certain she was of having blisters by the time she got back.
Buffy smiled across at the vampire. "Did I hear you making a date with Anya? She’s a newly married woman, you know and I don’t know what your arrangement with Dru was but I expect you to be a one woman vamp…"
"Green suits you, pet." Spike grinned back at her. "…But if you want the sordid details about my sex-life you’re going to have to ask again when there isn’t a minor with us."
"I hope it’s just the Dru part of that question that you’re including under that definition."
"You already know the answer to that one or you would have been asking about it before you agreed to a date… I told Anya I’d drop in at the shop tomorrow to take back what’s left of the stuff I liberated the other night and pay her for the rest." ‘…And to make a little down payment on something else.’
"So you don’t think that I would just happen to trust you?"
"Have you ever given me any reason to think you might?" asked the vampire.
"No. I suppose not, but I’ve got to start practising sometime."
"Too right, slayer." Spike released his grip on Buffy’s hand and turned to lead her sister over to a waist-high wall.
"When are you going to start wearing shoes you can walk in, Bit?" he asked the rhetorical question. Picking her up by the waist, he stood her on top of the wall and turned round to allow her to climb on his shoulders. The movements smooth and practised as if it was almost routine, which it had been last summer. Once the younger sister was settled he lit a cigarette before he took Buffy’s hand in his own again.
"So do you make a habit of carrying my sister home after a night out?" Buffy queried.
"Now and again, when she can’t walk and there aren’t any witnesses," was his response.
"I can see," said the petite blonde.
"Yeah, but you already know that I can act like a right soft poof. If the likes of Harris saw this I’d have to kill ‘im. Besides, this way we might get home before midnight." He ran his tongue along his upper teeth, his scarred eyebrow slightly raised.
Buffy flushed, feeling a familiar tingling sensation in the region of her abdomen and quickened her pace towards home. "Well, it is a school night. The quicker we get Dawn home the better."
"Yeah, right," came an unconvinced voice from high above her head. "I’m fifteen, not deaf, dumb and blind."
Spike collapsed on the sofa and turned the TV on, flicking through the channels until he found one that was showing the news. Buffy was through in the kitchen making hot chocolate and Niblet was upstairs getting showered and changed into her pyjamas. He was there, in their home, accepted. The only thing that could have made it any better would be if Joyce were still alive, but then it would be extremely doubtful that he’d be allowed to stay overnight in Buffy’s room. Even Cardboard only stayed the night when Joyce was in the hospital and presumably didn’t know he was there.
The main news program finished and was followed by a local news show. The nerds’ capture actually made lead item. They were being charged with Katrina’s murder as well as the bank robbery and the diamond theft. Spike was wondering how they had come to be charged with murder when the girl’s death had been ruled as accidental, when the report revealed that one of the group had turned state’s evidence against the other two, in hopes of lighter sentencing.
The report also stated that the bank had agreed to pay a finder’s fee on that portion of the money that was recovered. The money was to be shared by a group of people who detained the bank robbers until police could arrive following a fight in a local nightclub.
"Buffy! Niblet! I think you might want to hear this…"
The two girls came running through to the living room, Dawn’s hair still wet from the shower as the chat between anchorman and the reporter at the local jail continued. Once Buffy was safely installed in front of the TV Spike went through to the kitchen to take over making the drinks.
<<Do we have any word yet as to the identity of the people to receive the reward? >>
<<Well, word has it that witnesses on the scene spoke of the group being detained by two young men and two young girls, but one of the men appears to have left the scene before police were able to take a statement from him. The bank has stated that the reward will be split between the remaining people if the man does not come forward within the next seven days. As yet no names have been given out. >>
<<Now, the reward is based on the amount of cash recovered. Has there been any word as to how much we could expect that to be? >>
<<There are some unconfirmed rumours around that as much as half to two thirds of the money stolen may be returned. This is especially hopeful in light of the fact that one of the group has turned state’s evidence, as disclosing the whereabouts of the remaining money would no doubt be part of any deal that has been made. If we assume that say half of the $160,000 which was stolen is recovered, then a ten percent finders’ fee would come to about $8,000…>>
"So, are you going to give yourself up and claim your reward?" Dawn asked Spike as he brought the drinks through.
"Nah, no point. I’d just end up giving the money to you two anyway and it would start all sorts of questions about green cards and visas and all that crap. I’ll steer clear."
"What are you going to do for money now that you’ve promised to be a good boy?" Buffy asked.
"I never promised to be good, pet. Just that I wouldn’t nick stuff anymore. And that depends on you."
"If you think you’re going to turn pimp and put me on the streets you can forget it," she teased.
"Me neither," Dawn added.
"Well, what do you think of how that lot got those orbs? Assuming they didn’t have to kill anyone to get them and that even if they used to belong to someone, they were long dead… say it was just a matter of digging them up? Is there anything about it that violently offends your moral code?"
Buffy’s head tilted slightly to one side as she considered the matter. "No, if nobody was harmed and they didn’t really belong to anyone… I don’t suppose there’s any harm. Why?"
"‘Cause that means you can’t complain about me living off the stuff I found along with the Gem of Amara."
Buffy cast her mind back to the room filled with golden jewellery. "You sneaky little vamp. No wonder you said you could get money."
"Yeah, well. It’s not like I didn’t offer and if knowing where it comes from makes a difference you can take it that I’m offering again."
"And you can take it that I’m refusing again at least until I’m totally desperate or we’ve made some sort of formal commitment."
"How about, if this reward doesn’t give you enough leeway to get out of that burger joint and get a decent job, then you let me make you an interest-free loan that you can pay back as and when?" Spike gave her his best puppy-dog look. "Please, love, I hate the idea of you working in that place. It’s killing you a bit at a time. There’s got to be other options."
"We’ll see. If the reward doesn’t cover it I might take you up on it. But I want to be sure I’m not cleaning you out. It would be like me selling the house and then living off the proceeds. It’s destroying what you do have in the way of capital."
The vampire sighed and pressed his argument further. "Okay, time to come clean. The Amara stuff is kind of like my spare change. Most of what I’ve got is tied up in investments and stocks and shares. The bulk of it is basically legit. When I died it wasn’t officially reported. I was able to sell the house and most of the valuables and convert them into investments, which have since multiplied. On occasion I’ve added to the accounts by not so legitimate means but the overwhelming bulk of it is honestly come by. With enough warning, I could pay the mortgage and the bills for this house and put the two of you through college and still not touch the capital, if you would let me."
"If you were never officially reported dead, then how did you end up getting buried? You wouldn’t be buried unless someone found the body and surely even then they would try to have it identified."
"Or unless it amused grandpa dearest to stick me in a coffin and bury it just so he could see my face when I finally crawled out…"
"You mean Angel…"
"Yes, pet, or if you prefer, Angelus. Look, just say you’ll let me give you enough to get you out of that bloody place and let’s change the subject."
"You didn’t exactly look that wealthy in that dream you had. You looked more like the poor relation."
"Yeah, well, my grandfather made some bad investments. Ended up selling half the land that originally went with the house to cover his debts. After that the income from the estates barely covered the upkeep on the house. There wasn’t a lot left over. Father did his best to keep things afloat, but even if I hadn’t been turned I’d probably have had to sell the house eventually and get something a bit smaller. The house itself was still worth a fair bit.
Like you say I didn’t exactly look wealthy so Angelus never suspected that I had money hidden away or he’d have spent it all on frilly shirts and hair ribbons."
"Okay, I will accept a loan so that I can get out of that place, if I need more than my share of the reward."
"Thank you, pet."
At this point, Dawn who had been quietly listening piped up. "So does this mean that I can keep my share?"
"Yeah, you can keep it… in your college fund," replied her sister. "And get your hair dry, and go to bed or you’ll never get to school in the morning."
"Whatever. Don’t bother getting up tomorrow morning. I’ll get myself ready for Xander coming round… if you can give me my lunch money now?" Spike fumbled in the pocket of his duster and came out with a ten-dollar bill. Dawn snatched it from his hand and headed upstairs calling her thanks as she left.
Buffy moved to the couch, snuggling in against his side and taking the remote from his hand to flip channels. Finally, she switched the TV off having failed to find anything to hold her attention, other than the vamp at her side.
"It’s going to be a while before Dawn gets off to sleep… maybe we could go sit on the porch for a bit… if you want?" Buffy suggested nervously.
"We could." A slow smile came to his face, his deep blue eyes holding her own. His hand came up gently stroking her cheek pushing a few stray hairs aside before his cool lips claimed hers with a soft sweep. His fingers brushed a trail over her earlobe and around to the back of her neck where they kneaded gently at her tense muscles. "…Or I might have a better idea." He kissed her again and her hands moved to his shoulder and into the short curls at the back of his head deepening the kiss. She wasn’t even aware of his other arm slipping beneath her knees until he had already carried her halfway up the stairs.
Chapter 1.02
Pulling away slightly Buffy hissed at him. "Spike, no, Dawn’s still awake. We can’t…"
"Shhh, pet. It’s fine. I’m not planning anything noisy, not just yet anyway." She looked up into his face, her confusion evident as he used a booted foot to push open the bathroom door. He sat her down on the edge of the bathtub and moved to lock both doors, ensuring their privacy.
"Just what exactly are you planning?" she asked. Spike shrugged out of his duster, hanging it up on the back of the door. He crossed the room and brushed against Buffy as he turned on the bath taps. Then he took a seat next to her and kissed her once more before answering.
"Plan on soaking you in a nice hot bath until you finally relax, love. It’s been a long day and I know you’re nervous about me staying here but I promise I won’t make you regret it." He dipped long fingers into the water pooling in the bottom of the tub swirling it slightly before adjusting the flow from the cold water tap. He scanned the selection of oils, salts and potions before selecting a camellia scented bubble bath, which he added to the water. Then he claimed one last tender kiss before moving to kneel at her feet.
His movements were slow, gentle and precise. He unzipped and removed her boots and then lifted the hem of her skirt, letting it rest across her thighs. His fingers teased the elasticated top of her hold-up stocking until he was able to roll the delicate material down the length of her leg, the soft touch of his lips following where his hands had been. He slid the flimsy black wisp from her foot and then began all over again with her other leg. Then he reached up and drew her hemline back into place, the fabric brushing against her sensitised skin all the way from thigh to shin.
Buffy found herself unable to take her eyes from the vision that knelt before her. Her fallen angel, perfect of form and redeemed by love. His face glowed with the intensity of the emotions shown in his eyes. Devotion, compassion, desire, adoration but most of all love. It was the look in those eyes when they met hers and not the skilled manipulation of expert hands that made her knees tremble.
He reached over and turned off the faucets, checking the bath’s temperature one last time and she wondered if she was in some sort of dream or if her attention had been entirely focused on him, that the bath had filled so apparently quickly. He took her hands in his and pulled her up to her feet whilst he remained kneeling in front of her, and when she wobbled slightly he reached his right arm around her thighs to steady her. His left hand deftly loosened the bow securing the skirt’s waistband and then he placed a hand at either side to pull it down her thighs in one languorous movement until it fell into an ebony ripple around her feet, exposing her black lace thong.
His hands returned to her hips and she responded to his gentle pressure by returning to her seat on the rim of the tub. He parted her knees and shuffled closer, his silk shirt brushing against the inside of her thighs, making her clamp her teeth on her lower lip to keep from moaning. Her arms snaked around him, elbows resting on his shoulders, small fingers twining into the gelled stiffness of his hair as she bent forward to place her lips to the top of his head.
Behind her, his agile fingers unbound the ribbon which criss-crossed her back holding her halter in place, freeing it from the loops that acted as its guide. They smoothed their way down her arms until he could hold her own, pulling them from his hair. He finally stood to remove her crimson top, which now hung loose around her neck, and her choker. He pulled her to her feet once more, this time clasping her against the length of his body for several seconds or minutes, his chin resting atop her head.
Then he knelt at her feet once more, kissing her between her breasts and moving down to her navel. He looked up; catching her gaze and holding it as he slowly removed the last of her clothing. He slid up her body and worked his way along her jaw to her earlobe nibbling gently with blunt teeth, causing her to release an almost silent gasp of air.
He took a small step back, just enough to let him loosen the buttons on his own shirt, but as he moved to undo the second one her tiny manicured hands brushed his own away to continue the job themselves. Taking her cue from him, her movements were unhurried and when his shirt hung loose on his shoulders she moved her lips down the centre of his chest stopping only when she reached his belt buckle, before turning her attention to his shirt cuffs. She pushed the soft fabric from his shoulders letting it drift to the floor. Her fingers traced the lines of his upper body where groups of muscles met, roaming across his chest, stomach, arms and back. She memorised the flawless shape of his body in a way she had never allowed herself to do before, always rushing, pushing him to fuck her hard and fast. Hiding under sheets and rugs or running as soon as it was over.
Her hands moved to his belt buckle, but before she could get it undone he pulled them away, kissing the each palm before releasing them. Whilst she was still wondering what she had done wrong he picked her up, his right arm behind her back and his left behind her knees and lowered her into the scented water. He picked up the clothes strewn on the floor and moved them to the far side of the room where they were less likely to get splashed, before sitting down on the edge of the bath to remove his boots and socks. Buffy watched and waited wondering what his next move would be.
He scooted along the edge of the tub until he was perched on the corner behind her left shoulder, leaning over to gain access to the neck muscles he had begun to massage in the living room what seemed like hours ago. Buffy felt as if her bones had melted, soaked away in the warm water and his slow firm manipulation. He worked his way outward, undoing knots in her shoulders that she hadn’t been aware of, then moving nimbly down her spine as she leant forward against her raised knees.
Picking up a soft wash cloth he bathed her back and her arms, before drawing her back to rest against the slope of the tub. She expected him to move on to wash her breasts and stomach, but instead he slid to the opposite end of the bath. He reached down to draw a foot from the water resting it on his denim clad thigh as he worked the muscles in it into a relaxed submission. Talented fingers explored her calf and then higher, and she belatedly realised that his every action was designed to keep her balanced on a knife edge between relaxation and desire. Letting that leg slip back under the water he picked up her other foot and began all over again.
Only once he had kneaded all her muscles loose, did he pick up the wash cloth again and smooth it along the golden flesh of her legs. He took the showerhead from its holder and turned the taps adjusting the flow through it until he was happy with the temperature. Then he beckoned Buffy to move towards him. She slid forward, bringing her knees up and leaning over them. He unclipped the slides from her hair and raised her chin with his hand, tilting her head back over so that when he wet her hair he could do so without getting water in her eyes.
He turned the taps off again and just as she opened her eyes he kissed her upraised mouth. He reached for her shampoo squirting some into the palm of his hand. For a second she wondered how he had known which was hers before she remembered his heightened sense of smell. Of course he could tell which was hers. She watched as he rubbed his palms together spreading the liquid equally before he started to work it into her hair. Smooth white hands with elegant fingers. She remembered years ago with Willow discussing how fixation on insignificant details was a major crush sign. With Spike, there seemed to be almost no detail she hasn’t fixated on at some point. Those eyes, those blue, blue eyes that lay bare his every feeling. The chiselled cheekbones that were wholly masculine yet still failed to make his face handsome rather than stunningly beautiful. The smirk, infuriating at times, irresistible at others and the scarred eyebrow, often raised in her direction that begged to be kissed or licked or traced with her fingers. His arms, his chest, his stomach… Her gaze fell below the waistline of his jeans. His ass, other things… It seemed unfair that he should be so perfect.
Then she remembered a story her mother once told her. Something about Indian rugs or tapestries and how the weavers would include one deliberate flaw somewhere in the design so that its perfection would not attract evil spirits. Somehow that seemed to explain the irony that was Spike, the soulless demon with the body and heart of an angel. William had just been too perfect to escape Dru’s notice.
He didn’t just shampoo her hair. His fingers massaged her scalp so soothingly she let out a gentle moan when he finished and reached for the shower spray once more, rinsing out the lather. She shifted back in the water, taking care not to splash, until she was supported once more by the back of the tub. Her eyes travelled up and down what she could now see of the vampire’s body, the heat building within her beginning to rival that of the cooling bath water.
She could almost have predicted his response. The delicious eyebrow went up, as did other parts of his anatomy and his comment was exactly what she expected. Save that, "like what you see, pet?" was voiced in a husky whisper instead of his normal half-sneering tone, she could have written his script.
This time, instead of embarrassment or denial she replied with shy honesty. "Well, duh. What’s not to like?" Her smile was teasing, but slightly unsure. She wondered belatedly if his sensitive ego would react unfavourably to being teased. She had hurt him badly and deliberately in the recent past. Now, she worried that those past sins would catch up with her allowing innocent remarks to be misconstrued. "You’re beautiful." She wanted to say more, to let him know how the sight of him affected her. How she wished she had the talent of Michel Angelo to sculpt him as a new David, or let him live forever as a canvas masterpiece, but somehow those two words were all she could manage.
"So are you, my love, so are you."
"Will," she whispered sensitive to her sister’s hopefully sleeping state. "I want you."
He smirked; his eyes alight with devilment. "I know."
Her exasperated gasp left her mouth open and he took full advantage. The kiss was deep but tender, passionate but without brutality and Buffy was quick to respond. Her hand moved to the back of his neck and she forced her fingers to hold him loosely instead of pulling him toward her since he was now balanced with both hands and the edge of one thigh on the rim of the bath, neither foot touching the floor. So far he had been true to his word about not making any noise and the last thing she wanted was to have to wait for her sister to go back to sleep. That meant dragging him in the tub with her, jeans and all, was out of the question, at least until Dawn left for school in the morning.
He seemed to know the exact moment she needed to catch her breath and drew back. Pulling a bath-sheet from the rail, he laid it out flat on the floor before scooping her from the tub and placing her on it. He knelt beside her and pulled the edges of the towel over, wrapping her in soft Egyptian cotton. Scooping her into his arms, he paused only to let her unlock the door and to listen for Dawn’s somnolent life-signs before he carried her through to her room depositing her in the centre of her bed. He crawled onto the mattress beside her with the grace of a predatory jungle cat, his gaze held by the way her damp flesh tautened into goose bumps in the cooler air, her nipples tightening into dusky pink peaks that he could barely distinguish in the darkened room.
Buffy fumbled in the dark, finding the switch for her bedside light illuminating the room in a soft glow. The increased light level allowed him to take in the heavy grey blankets secured over all the windows as well as the fact that the room door still stood open.
"Bollocks," he muttered under his breath, but before he could scramble off the bed to remedy the omission the aforementioned parts of his anatomy were gripped through his jeans by a proprietary hand.
"Mine and everything that goes with them." Her grip wasn’t unduly painful and fell well within Spike’s definition of foreplay, but he certainly wasn’t moving anywhere. It seemed his slayer had had enough teasing for one night. She gave him one last squeeze before turning her attention and both hands to his belt buckle.
"Only yours, Buffy, for as long as you want them," he purred into her ear before biting playfully at her lobe with blunt teeth. He lay down on his side propping his head on one hand so that he could watch his lover as she freed his erection from his jeans.
She stroked the silken skin of his generous shaft, using her fingertips near the base but curling her fingers as she neared the tip so that her nails grazed the delicate flesh. Like every other part of his being it responded to her whim and when her hand was removed it twitched towards her. Spike expected her to finish removing his jeans. Instead he had the air knocked out of his lungs as she pushed him over onto his back and straddled him, sliding her moist labia along his length before taking him into her burning core.
All the while she looked into his eyes and he returned her gaze. The second she impaled herself she remembered the last time that she had seen that look on his face, a combination of lust, surprise, awe and totally unguarded love. The sharp sensation of being stretched around his cool cock triggering a flashback to that first time in the abandoned house. She felt him tense beneath her, his eyelids closing milliseconds too late to hide the pain and fear that swamped his cornflower blue eyes and she knew the same memory had been foremost in his mind.
She stilled. "Will, look at me." She spoke softly, her voice just above a whisper. "This time it’s different. It’s been a long time. I was impatient and I rushed things but this isn’t just about sex any more. I care about you and I’m not going to throw your feelings back at you in the morning. Please don’t be afraid to show how you feel." Her hand moved to cup his cheek, his eyes still closed. "Remember what I told you earlier. I love you. I’m not in this to take what I want and leave you hanging. I want to make you happy." Long, dark, damp eyelashes swept apart and his eyes searched hers for answers.
She brushed her lips against his in an almost chaste caress. "Spike, make love to me, please."
He raised his head slightly, running his tongue along her lower lip coaxing her to open her mouth When she did he drew his tongue against hers, tip against tip still far from the forceful evasion they often employed. His hands travelled down her flanks, one claiming her left hip the other hooking behind her right knee, holding it at his waist so that when he rolled them both over onto their sides her leg was hooked over his hip-bone.
Slowly, he flexed his hips. Initially withdrawing only an inch or two each time, he built a steady rhythm. His hands moved to her breasts alternately stroking, holding and kneading them before tracing his thumbs around her aureoles. Finally he drew each into his mouth in turn to suckle and tease them between his blunt teeth, causing her to shudder as she moved to meet his every thrust with one of her own.
Gradually, he increased the depth and speed of each lunge until he could tell from the shivers running through her and her small moans and sighs that she was close. He pushed his still denim-covered thigh through between her legs, adding to the pressure on her clitoris with each stroke. Pulling her face into his shoulder he bent his neck to position blunt teeth over her own.
"Door’s still open, pet. Bite down," he whispered.
He squeezed her nipples tightly as he moved into her, sending her spinning over the edge. She longed to scream his name at the top of her voice. Instead she sank her teeth into his shoulder. That pain and the pulsing of her hot muscles around him brought him crashing after her, blunt teeth bruising her flesh but unlike hers failing to draw blood.
Chapter 1.03
Spike pulled Buffy in close, holding her as her tremors stilled to nothing, watching her as she pulled her head back to search his face.
"What’s up, pet?"
"Just wanted to make sure you were okay…"
He smiled down at her. "I kinda thought the two of us together have always been nearer unbelievable than okay."
"Sp- Will, I’m serious. We’ve got quite a few memories between us and a lot of them… It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they could be better. There are going to be times when we’re reminded of the bad things. As long as we can move past them we’ll be okay but if there’s a problem we need to deal with it. So… are you okay?"
He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "For a minute there it was like I was right back in that house, but this time I knew what was coming the morning after. It caught me by surprise, is all. I know things have changed. I mean, to judge by the window dressing you’re not planning on sending me back to the crypt before sunrise. You’ve told Niblet and all your mates. S’just goin’ to take a little while before I stop expecting everything to fall apart.
No..." he obviously struggled to find words to express his thoughts. "I know things are different but it’ll be a while before I feel things are different. It’ll take time for it to sink in that you aren’t… that I’m really this lucky."
"Nice save. Promise I won’t be too much of a bitch in the morning, though Dawn says I only turn human once I have my first mug of coffee, so no absolute guarantees."
"Wouldn’t be half as interesting if you were all sweetness and light twenty four hours a day, pet."
"Or if you ever learnt the meaning of the word tact."
"Not much of a vamp thing. Nope, that’s not true. Most vamps learn how to toady good and proper to their elders even if they don’t bother with it the rest of the time. I guess it’s just me."
"I suppose that would explain how well you and Angel get on… That’s going to be a fun part of the Christmas card list this year." She smiled. "Dear Angel, Merry Christmas, Love Buffy and Spike. He’d be on his way here before the postman got clear of his street."
"He’ll be on his way sooner than that, pet." Spike said, apparently unfazed.
"Hey, he’s my ex. I think I should get to decide when you tell him."
His smirk returned at her response. "Unless you decide soon, I don’t think it’ll be either of us telling him."
"Where else is he going to hear about it from?"
"Well there’s always the demon grapevine. Even if my name isn’t specifically mentioned the fact that the slayer’s taken up with another vamp’ll eventually get as far as LA. Personally, I’d put bets on Harris though. It’s just a matter of how long he takes to think of it."
"You think Xander would tell Angel we’re together?" A frown was making its presence known on Buffy’s face.
"I’d say it’s more a question of whether he has the guts to pick up the phone and do it himself or whether he sends an anonymous note, but it might take a day or two before he comes up with the idea," Spike confirmed.
"What do you think Angel will do?"
"He’ll probably turn up, try to speak to your mates and work out exactly what sort of thrall I have you under, or how I might have coerced you into letting me in your bed. Then as soon as he’s convinced himself that it’s his and Harris’s opinions that count and that I’ve fooled everybody else, he’ll set an ambush, try to get me on my own."
"Why do you think ambush?"
"It’s the only way to be sure. You don’t have a bicentennial by taking chances. A straight fight could go either way."
"Do you… Will he try to stake you?"
"He hasn’t so far, but it probably depends on what your mates say. You’ve got to remember, he’s known me for a hundred and twenty years. We lived together for twenty years and every day of those two decades I had to prove that I was bastard enough to belong with him and his women. He won’t want to believe that I’ve changed. Depends whether your mates can convince him I’m not a threat to you. But on the bright side… Dru and Darla had a bit of a spree up in LA not so long ago and he didn’t stake them."
"You must have heard wrong Darla died the year I came to Sunnydale."
"Yeah, and then a bunch of lawyers did some hocus-pocus and brought her back human and set her to torment the Poof into losing his soul. Except they brought her back with the same syphilitic heart condition the whore was originally dying from when she was turned. So Dru turned her again ‘n’ far as I know she’s still around somewhere."
"He let them go?"
"After he set them on fire… yeah. But then he actually locked them in with the lawyers and he didn’t know any of the others… he might be less lenient seein’ as he’s supposed to like you and how you wear his mark and he’s a bit less fond of me than of Dru or Darla."
"How can you be so calm about it? He might kill you."
"Sufficient unto each day are the problems thereof, pet. I’m in the best fighting form I’ve ever been in what with patrollin’ ‘n’ stuff. Other than that there’s nothin’ to be done. It’s not as if the two of us fightin’ is anythin’ new."
"Unless we force the issue so we at least sort of know when he’s coming. But what do you mean about wearing his mark? You make it sound like some sort of cattle brand or something," she had more than a hint of defiance in her tone.
"Yeah, well… You’re shiverin’, pet." He loosened his grip and pulled back from her, withdrawing from her warmth and adjusting his jeans. "Get yourself under the covers and I’ll get the door." He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and kissed her brow before pushing off the bed to finally close the bedroom door. He picked up the damp towel from on top of the covers and spread it out over the wrought iron at the top of the bed.
Buffy pulled the covers back and crawled in, then lay on her side, watching Spike as he moved around the room. She waited until he was climbing into bed after removing his jeans before she reminded him of her question. "The mark?"
Spike pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her before he replied. "The scars you have on your neck, give a warning, should we say, to any vamp that gets close enough to see them. The Master’s is pretty much a non-issue what with him being gone. The other two basically tell us that Soul Boy claimed you as his property, but that Drac’s made a later claim since those scars are fresher and overlay the Poof’s. Assuming there’s still a bit of the demon left in the old man, if he’d still been around when Drac made his appearance he would have had to defend his claim. It’s kind of a dominance thing. Anyone who ignores a mark like that… it’s like saying they’re dominant to the one who made it in the first place."
"So you being in my bed…"
"…Defies both of them, from their point of view anyway. Way I look at it, they both gave up whatever claim they might have had when they buggered off. A claim is just as much about undertaking to protect someone as it is about saying they belong to you."
"But, your point of view won’t matter when Angel hears about us. He’s going to see it as you trying to take what’s his?"
"It’s a direct challenge as far as the demon’s concerned. The question’s whether the man can or would want to keep the demon in check. Which we won’t find out till he gets here."
"So if you’ve already basically asked for an ass-kicking why didn’t you just put your mark over the top? You just passed up the ideal opportunity. Doesn’t your demon want that top mark to be his?"
"Buffyyy…" Her name was almost a groan. "Yeah, it does. Every time I see those marks or sense them they remind me that you’re not mine. That you’re his, just like Dru. I’d like nothing better than to put my mark over theirs, but if I ever claim you it’ll be as my mate not as some chattel. You don’t belong to me. I’m not your master and I don’t want to be. So until you’re ready to call me your husband I’ll live with their marks. Okay?"
"Very okay. But if you’re right we still have a problem."
"Unless you’re planning some sort of pre-emptive action, pet, it’ll keep."
"What action?"
"Acting before anyone else can. Like say I was to drive to LA tomorrow night."
"Don’t you mean say we were to drive to LA?"
"Slayer, that was just an example. And the point I was trying to make is that we’ve got better things to do, our first night in your room, than talk about Grandpa." He leaned down to kiss her, tightening his grip to pull her flush against his body and then he rolled over onto his back bringing her with him.
He teased at her lower lip, capturing it between his and pulling at it, nibbling at it with a delighted smile. She realised, she’d been pouting and her brain supplied the soundtrack. ‘Gonna get it… Gonna get it.’ Suddenly it hit home. She knew in her head, knew in her heart that what they had really could work. When she came out of Willow’s spell she’d been grossed out about how she could love someone she didn’t even like. Since then he’d become her confidant, her partner and companion on her nightly patrols and her shaggin’ partner (as Spike had once described them) but she’d never seen that happy teasing side again until earlier tonight. She hoped she would see it more often now that they were really a couple.
She grinned widely, effectively ending Spike’s play.
"Wha’ so funny, love?"
"Us. You. Good memories. Do you have any idea how cute you are when you get all… like you just were?"
She screeched before she could stop herself. His hands seemed to be all over her tickling in all her most sensitive spots. His voice resonant with barely contained laughter. "The. Big. Bad. Does. Not. Do. Cute." She squirmed all over his body, trying to evade his teasing fingers but not trying so hard as to move away from him. Her response coming out between her gasps for air.
"No… but you do… cute and… you… do the… Big Bad."
Spike, perhaps, would have spent some time wondering when he stopped being the Big Bad and started playing him were it not for the fact that the woman he loved was moving around on top of him in a way that made him want to pound her into the mattress. All at once he was sitting upright with Buffy straddling his lap. One hand was tangled in her hair and the other was pulling her close, grinding his erection against her coarse curls. His sudden kiss was deep and hard. Instead of resisting she gave herself up to it, only pulling back when lack of oxygen had her gasping to draw breath.
"Change," she managed in a hoarse whisper and then she reclaimed his mouth without waiting to see if he would comply with her request. She felt his bones move under her tongue, heard all the cracking and grinding sounds clearer than ever before, transmitted through her jaw bone instead of across still air.
Kissing a vampire in game face was something that required a great deal of delicacy if no blood was to be spilled. Instead Buffy deliberately ran her tongue over the sharp edges of Spike’s upper teeth, opening free-flowing cuts. She brushed her tongue against his letting him savour the aphrodisiac. At the first taste he froze in her embrace and his cock grew even firmer as it rested between their bodies. When he resumed his oral exploration his efforts were equally passionate, but more tender, careful not to cause her further injury.
When the bleeding had slowed she drew back from his kiss, taking the time to look into his golden eyes. Seeing his discomfort under her gaze she knelt to place a kiss on his ridged brow, following up with a multitude more all over the altered planes of his face. Her fingers traced the contours of his demon countenance ensuring their likeness was committed to memory, along with those of the face he wore almost constantly now.
"You about finished yet, pet? Just there’s some things I’m wanting to do and if I stay looking like this they might hurt. Besides, didn’t you tell me only one vampire got you hot?"
"Yeah, well that’s true. Only I was kinda economical with the truth about the rest of it. See I thought Angel got me hot until this other vamp showed me what hot really was. An-"
She didn’t get any further, Spike pushing her over onto her back and fiercely claiming her mouth, the grinding of bone presaging his return to human form even as he did so. One hand moved to fondle her breasts, his other teasing the curls at the junction of her thighs. He had folded his legs under as he tipped her over, so whilst he leant forward from a kneeling position, Buffy was lying with her hips on top of his thighs and her legs either side of his waist. She reached behind his head entwining her fingers in his hair and just when she was in need of breath she pulled his mouth away and rolled them over onto their sides freeing her legs.
Even though Spike had no need for breath, both of them were panting when they pulled apart. A layer of sweat coated Buffy’s body and those parts of his where they had been in contact.
Spike swiped along the hollow above her collar-bone with his tongue, savouring her salt taste. "So this one vamp… must be a lucky guy. Anyone I know?"
Buffy swung her legs around so that they were once more lower down the bed than her head her shins resting against the wrought iron at the bottom of the bed. She began kissing, licking and nibbling her way down Spike’s contoured chest and abdomen, breaking off occasionally to answer her lover’s question. "Well, I could tell you that it was you… but what if I was lying… there’s really only one way to be sure." She slid further back up the mattress and in one motion she opened herself to his exploration and took the first few inches of his member into her mouth.
Spike needed no further invitation. He rested his head on one golden thigh and sensuously stroked the inside of her other causing all the tiny hairs there to stand on end, his hand gradually moving closer to the juncture between her thighs. Buffy’s lips moved up and down his shaft swirling her tongue around the tip at the end of each stroke, one small hand grasping the base and mirroring the movement of her lips on those areas they couldn’t easily reach, the other applying steady kneading pressure on his buttocks.
Ever conscious of the movements of her hot wet mouth, Spike used his fingers to gently part her swollen outer lips, the scent of their previous coupling arousing him further still so that he couldn’t wait to taste the juices that flowed from her. He drew his tongue along the parted folds in a series of slow broad strokes, teasing the rim of her opening with his fingertips. He waited until he was close to release and then as only the tip of his shaft was between her lips, he simultaneously suckled on her clitoris and thrust two fingers into her hot, tight, wet passage. A shudder passed through her entire body and she released him, unable to concentrate on anything other than the pulsing sensations originating between her legs and the feel of Spike’s fingers moving inside her.
Waves of sensation rippled out through her body making her moan until she felt his teeth bite down on her clit. She cried out his name as the waves reached an almost unbearable peak.
He withdrew his wet fingers from her core, licking them clean. Half-shut ultramarine eyes watched as she recovered. He sat up and pulled her unresisting body into his arms, kissing her on her neck and shoulders.
"Well, pet, I think we can safely say that that question’s been settled," he whispered not bothering to hide his amusement, but still falling far short of his smug tone.
Buffy gave a gentle snort. "I guess it is." Her hand moved to stroke his still rigid prick, "but I think we need one more round, at least, to be sure."
"That sounds like a good idea from here, love." He captured her lips in a tender kiss. "Did you have anything in particular in mind?"
"Mmmh, something slow and hard and so deep that it hurts…"
"Oh yeah, I like it when naughty Buffy comes out to play. Think we can manage that." Spike moved to kneel near the centre of the bed facing the headboard. "Come over here, love, just like this, but with your knees outside mine." Buffy did as he asked and was rewarded as his cool hands explored her body his body pressed to her back, his erection brushing between the cheeks of her ass. "Now, pet, lace your fingers behind your neck and lean forward so that your weight’s on your elbows… That’s it." He bent over kissing her back, his hands still gently stroking her breasts and flanks. "Ready, love?"
Buffy gave an almost imperceptible nod and he reached behind him to hook her feet behind his thighs. He positioned himself at her entrance thrusting just far enough that the tip of his erection stayed held inside her. He leant forward and keeping his arms straight he gradually rested his weight on her shoulder blades, pushing her upper torso down almost as far as the mattress.
"Pet, I don’t want to really hurt you, so if you stop pressin’ with your heels I’ll stop pushin’." Spike felt the pressure on his thighs increase and started to push into her inch by inch. The sensation of easing slowly into her hot wet folds had him murmuring endearments and encouragement. "Oh love… so tight… so hot… so wet… beautiful." When he still had a few inches to go she gave a surprised gasp and stopped pressing her heels against his thighs. Spike froze in position.
"You okay, love?" he whispered, but before he could finish the question the pressure on his upper legs returned.
Buffy replied from below him, her voice husky, "hurts good." Spike smiled at her reply, pressing home those last inches teasingly slowly. He waited several seconds letting her body adjust to this deep position. Spike was sure he had never known a heat like hers. When she took him in, it seemed that his whole body was warmer than it had ever been when he was alive. He began to withdraw only marginally less slowly than he had entered. Her muscles gripped him even more tightly, her slayer abilities granting her a strength and control that would require considerable practice for most women.
"God, slayer, hurts so good," he moaned, and had to pause before he came there and then. She kept up the pressure until he was back at his starting point and then relaxed to allow him to enter her once more. Each time she gasped when his dick made contact with her ovaries but still she urged him in all the way and squeezed him tight as he withdrew. Spike managed to keep the slow rhythm going for almost a dozen thrusts before his self-control gave and he found himself pounding into her faster and faster. As he neared his climax he reached around her, his fingers flat against her, grinding her labia into her pubic bone with a circular motion that gave her a hint of pain but a whole lot more pleasure.
He felt the first flutterings building up in her muscles, and her control had gone to hell as he’d increased the pace, each thrust finding all the sensitive spots inside her. She was gasping for breath, the air driven from her lungs repeatedly by the force of his actions.
He whispered to her, words like dark honey. "Come for me, love… come for Spike… let it out." Spasms wracked through her and Spike wrapped his right arm round her waist holding her to him as his left hand continued its ministrations drawing out her orgasm to coincide with his own. As her tremors finally fell away to nothing he pulled them both over onto their sides spooning behind her, not wanting to draw out of her just yet.
"You’re amazing, love. No-one ever made me feel the way you do," he whispered, his cheek resting against her own, one arm trapped between her shoulder and the pillows, the other stroking up and down her side from her knees to her shoulders. That was when he realised that she still had her fingers laced behind her neck. He listened intently to her breathing. The evidence was conclusive. She’d passed out.
With his one free hand, he loosened her fingers and moved her arms to a more natural position before pulling as much of the duvet over them as he could without rousing her. He kissed her shoulder and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.