A wandering cloud glided over the moon leisurely, reflected on the extraordinarily tranquil waters of the pond. The miniature pool was bordered on all side by shadowy woodlands of tall pines, oaks, willows, and many other natures of foliage. The forest was quiet, as if it was dead. As if all living creatures that inhabited this place had been scared away. There was nobody and nothing. Emptiness.

Well, almost nothing. A few meters from the abnormally still pool was an ancient cemetery. Headstones were strewn everywhere in a chaotic haphazard fashion. Some tombstones were upright but most were in various degrees of disorder. Some on their side some tipped or slanted and some were even decayed. A little ways away from this cemetery was a house. Deserted of all people and in a state of disrepair. Still, it was a fine-looking house, with vines slithering up the sides and an air of significance, as if the house itself was proud of its disorder.

Too bad it was about to be inhabited by the undead carcasses that were at this moment rising from their graves. These creatures dared to defile the sanctity of the house, the safety. They rose, climbing out of their self- induced prisons just as the last fading rays of the sun died, a few minutes ago. Now the air was filled with a stench, a putrid odor of the undead. The long undead. A lightly tanned hand waved in front of a delicately scrunched up nose.

No matter how many times. Disgusting

The zombies moaned and panted and groaned as they made their way to their master. To the house. With a swift movement the foreigner of the darkness revealed herself. A few lightning quick kicks and a small number of blows and they were reduced to little maggot-filled masses of dead flesh. No longer the undead. With a satisfied sigh, the women dusted her clothes off. The dirt had covered her when she had rolled.

She entered the house like a ghost, not making a noise. A quick perusal of the lower floors and basement brought about only a few maggot-filled zombies and a couple newbie vampires. Which she dispatched of quickly and quietly. With a stake in hand she walked steadily up the rickety stairs to the main bedroom.


He waited, knowing she would come. She always did. True it was a different attack every time, but it was always that. An attack. A few moans came from the basement as he idly twisted a dagger in his hands. She was quicker than last time. He stood and walked to the balcony, watching the reflected moon in the pool below. The wind soothingly whispered greetings to him while pulling at his clothes softly.

It was a warm wind.

A soft padding of feet warned him of her presence and he cloaked himself with the night as he watched her check the room. Golden blonde hair, cascading down her shoulders. Bright blue eyes. He smiled tightly. And always, always that little skin-tight number. Be it the pants and t-shirt or this maddening piece of black leather that coated her skin like a lover's possessive hand. He smirked when she turned to him and stiffened.

He attacked.

A punch to her gut that sent her flying into the wall. She, disoriented, stood unsteadily before ramming her entire body into his, sending them both soaring across the room. She landed on top of him and proceeded to ram her knee right into his crotch. He moaned in torment and she rolled off of him and stood, ready for more. He stood and shook himself before clouting her in the jaw, which she kindly returned to him.

He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her into the wall. Then he lifted her up again and repeated the process several times be fore he let her drop to the ground. Weak and bewildered she merely coughed and hacked on her arms and knees before standing. With vengeance gleaming in her eyes and her body battered, she plowed into him for the second time that day.

They were tumbled out of the room, breaking the door, crashing down the stair and on to the first floor. Shattering a few ribs in the process. When they hit the floor they both gasped, him on top her beneath, for breath. They had a silent truce to wait until they had energy, not moving fro their places. Their eyes caught and held as their chests heaved. Time froze.


"Buffy." He hissed through clenched teeth. Buffy stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. His platinum hair brushed back from his forehead, his cold eyes hard and staring, demanding an answer that she give. Immediately. His fore-teeth had lengthened during their fight and he had lost his shirt when she had pulled on it.

A hard chest of carved peach marble, warm enough to light fires in her belly. Or was that just his nearness? Dizziness entered her thoughts and clouded her thinking.

She shouldn't do this.

It was wrong.

He was a vampire.

His scent was intoxicating.

Wait where did that come from? It was true of course. His scent was a mixture of dark deep earth, of sweet mulberry wine and male. Buffy closed her eyes breathing him in. So sweet, so male, so perfect. Buffy leaned up, and then pulled away. What do you think your doing, Buffy? He's your enemy. Has been forever. Always will be your enemy.

Unfortunately those thoughts ran second place to the feelings of his body weighing her down, of his warm breath fanning over her face, of the rush of adrenaline, and warmth through her body. A very pitiful second place indeed. Very strangely enough, Buffy felt the cuts and bruises and all the other places her bloodied her up tingle with warmth. What a scrumptious reaction. The energy there then added to her hunger. Her hunger for a man.


Her hunger for Spike. Instinctively she knew. Only he could tame this hunger. Only he. For only he had defeated her. A thrill ran through her. She had been beaten. Buffy the vampire slayer had been beaten and losing never tasted so sweet. While her mind had been running through this new information Spike had been busy.

He lowered his head to the juncture of her shoulder and neck and nipped her there. Buffy stopped, then shivered as tingles of heat, desire and a little bit of soreness entered her body. Spike nipped again, hard enough to leave a scarlet blemish but not draw blood. Buffy gasped, a swift in draw of breath, and then let it out in a rush. His tongue slipped out to lap at the small discoloration.

Buffy moaned under him and Spike answered back with a growl. His hands spanned her hips, holding her securely under him while he nipped along the side of her neck, then up to nibble on her chin and then reach her mouth.

"Look at me, love." Spike commanded and Buffy opened her eyes, previously closed in ecstasy, to bond with his. He lowered his head and took her lips. It was gentle at first, then need overtook gentility. He ravaged her lips with his, then swiped his tongue along the seam of hers, insisting entrance she readily gave. Their lips battled, merged, and fought over dominance, as Buffy rolled him over so she was on top.

Spike wrapped his arms around her and he carried on with the roll until he was again on the topmost part. Buffy, eyes' flashing was about to raise her voice when he caught her lips with his. Again she was lost. Her lips would ache, are aching, and from the force of his kisses, but Buffy gave it all back times ten.

"Spike.." Buffy moaned softly as his tongue traced her shell-like ear. He smiled and allowed her arms to wrap around his neck. Spike lazily made his way back to her mouth as his hips shifted themselves so he was pressed intimately against her. She groaned and dragged her nails down his back, creating lines of red and drawing blood. He snarled and bit her harshly on the lip.

Buffy only laughed huskily. Spike moan at the sound. Buffy looked Spike in the eyes and then took control of his lips as they rolled again. Buffy ended up on top and she chuckled as she dragged her nails down his extremely muscled chest, leaving slight red marks that disappeared immediately. Her head lowered, as she kissed him. The blood welling from her incise landing in his mouth as he suck on her lip.

Removing her mouth from his, Buffy trailed it down his neck and passed his collar one, taking time to lap at the small indentation there. Spike's ever constant and growing moan and growls encouraging her. Buffy licked and kissed and nipped her way to his nipple and taking it into her mouth, biting down hard.

Spike let out a roar of pleasure and pain. He arched his back, begging her with his body to continue. She smiled wickedly and traced his silken abs down to his navel where she spent a ridiculous amount of time teasing him. He arched his back and thrust his hips foreword in a silent plea.

Which, of course, she ignored. Can't give him everything, can she?

Buffy grinned down at him as she sat astride his hips; his desire pushing against the very spot nature intended it to go. Buffy bit her lip to control her moans and Spike used the time to tumble her under him. Spike, again in a position of power, rotated his hips against her pelvis. Buffy moan and arched frenziedly, her eyes wide. Spike felt sweat break out on his forehead. The pleasure, even with clothes was much more than he planned.

He put his hands near the neck of the tight leather shirt and with a flexing of his muscles it was gone, leaving her clad only in a red silken bra. Her creamy white skin was unblemished by scar and was smooth as satin. The only mark was two pinpricks at her neck. Spike felt jealousy eat at him.

Angel. Angel had gotten to her first. Buffy moved under him and Spike felt the anger leave him. She was with him now, not that sissy boy of a vampire. Spike pushed against her and she groaned. Buffy was his now. All his.

Buffy felt Spike's hands caress her skin. Every bare inch was explored thoroughly first by hands, then tongue, then teeth. Her entire upper-body was buzzing with energy as he indolently unbuttoned her pants. He scraped his teeth over inch of skin that was bared. Her panties, a daring number in bright red, he left on as he brought her pants down. Buffy felt like screaming. He was teasing her!

Spike started at her feet and caressed his way up to her silken thighs, stopping at her knees before reaching their goal. They slid the panties out of the way and Spike rested his entire body against her.




Their bodies trembled at the almost full skin-to-skin contact. Buffy felt her bare sex press against his leather-clad groin. It wasn't enough. Buffy sat up and undid his pants while he ripped off the bra. Spike threw off the pants and dived for her. Buffy went wild, dragging her nails across every patch of skin, biting, licking anything in reach.

Spike delayed the moment as long as her could before plunging to the hilt into her. They froze. It was.indescribable.



Encasing him

Filling her.



Spike moved slightly and they both moaned. Every inch of skin was so sensitized that the slightest movement could trigger ecstasy. Spike couldn't hold back any long and began the rhythmic dance that was as old as time. With every movement Buffy yelped with pleasure and Spike moaned. As they reached the pinnacle together Buffy screamed and Spike let out an enormous roar of blissful pleasure.

They collapsed in a sweaty pile. Spike merely rolled to his side, pulled Buffy to him and slept. Buffy was awake. A thought struck her and her eyes widened. Oh boy!

Spike was a spooner!