He held her in his arms, his mind racing. Was she right, did he want her because she was unattainable? Hadn't every woman he had loved, been? Even bloody Drusilla, who he'd loved and cared for for so many years, hadn't returned his love. He was just… convenient, as Buffy had told him, while recovering her clothes from the wreckage of their first night together. William the bloody convenient. What did it say about him that he loved women he knew he couldn't have? Deep down did he think he was unworthy? Or was it, that he liked to take care of women? He liked to be needed.
Buffy stirred in his arms.
"You alright, pet?"
"It's getting cold in here and dark," she replied, looking up at him, "and I'm thirsty."
"I'll sort it," he said, extricating himself from under her and lighting the lamp next to the bed. "I'll see what's in the fridge down stairs, you get under the covers; I'll be right back."
He headed down the stairs to the kitchen, there was a nearly full carton of orange juice that was still cold and smelt OK. He grabbed a clean glass out of the cupboard and went back up.
"That better, pet?" He asked, going back to the bed, where Buffy was now under the covers.
"Mmm much better," she said, draining the glass of juice. "Now, come back to bed."
She held the cover up, enticingly and he realized, with shock, that she was naked.
She looked up, into his eyes.
"Please, Spike? Make love to me?"
For the first time in a good while, he was lost for words.
"Don't you want me?" Buffy asked, a tremor in her voice.
"Always…but you… you don't want me; not really…you're just…vulnerable right now."
"Maybe….but that's not why I want you. I've been doing a lot of thinking, lately. Come to bed and I'll explain it to you."
He slipped off his boots and slid under the covers next to her warm body. She lay her head on his chest and put her arm around his waist. Even through his clothes, he was very aware of her warm nakedness, draped over various parts of him.
"I hope I don't screw this up too much, you know I'm not as good with words as you."
"Just say it, I'm listening."
"You have to know how it was, after you left. I went to your crypt, I needed you to watch Dawn, Clem said you'd gone."
"After what I did...?"
"The next night."
"After I got shot."
"I could have died and you weren't there. Then Willow, the whole destroying the world thing. I missed you so much. I shouldn't have, after… You know… But I did, then when you told me about your soul… We should have talked then."
"I was a bit out of it, then."
"Earlier tonight, you said you'd seen my strength. You're my strength. When they first brought me back, I was so broken and then you were there. If the others hadn't come back when they did…If you hadn't left…"
"I didn't think you'd want me there."
"You were the only one I could talk to, when I said I could be alone with you there, I meant that I was comfortable with you, I didn't have to pretend…I'm not supposed to feel like this, I'm the Slayer…And you're-"
"It's all Angel's fault," she declared suddenly.
"Yeah," Spike agreed, absently, then realized what she'd said. "Huh?"
"He took advantage of me."
"When? I'll bloody kill him."
"You know very well when," she said with a soft laugh filling her voice. "What I mean is that he took advantage of my feelings. I was a schoolgirl with a crush and he was old enough to know better. Then he lost his soul and wanted to kill me. For a while I didn't believe vampires could love. That was his fault."
"So, he was a schoolgirl crush, was he?"
"Yes, real fairytale stuff. The kind of love little girls dream about before they grow up and start to live in the real world. Then he got all patronizing: 'I'm leaving you for you own good. You need to have a normal life.' But how could I ever have a normal life when I'm the slayer. Even now that I'm grown up, people still won't trust my judgement. Giles hasn't been here for months and has no idea what is happening with you, but he still thinks that he knows what is best." The frown of her mini-rant faded as she looked back up at Spike and smiled, "you've never treated me like a kid, not even when we first met and I was one."
"You were the slayer, your age was irrelevant; only a fool wouldn't respect your power."
"I was surrounded by those, obviously. So, I need to know, can you ever forgive me?"
He looked down at her, her face obscured by her beautiful hair. "Forgive you for what?" He asked genuinely puzzled.
She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes.
"For everything," she said as though it was obvious. "For using your feelings for me; for beating you to a bloody pulp; for telling you I didn't trust you, when it was obvious that I did and for never admitting that I love you. That's the worst, denying my feelings just because of what my so called friends might think. Can you forgive me for being so screwed up and trying to screw you up too?"
"Buffy…Say that again."
"The bit about admitting-"
"That I love you? I did, I have, I do. I love you, Spike, or I love you William, if you prefer, whichever. I love you."
He pulled her up his body, feeling her naked nipples hardening against the fabric of his shirt, and kissed her. She was gently tracing his abs with her fingers, gradually moving lower. "You really love me?" He asked, when they came up for air.
"Really, truly, love you. Make love to me, Spike," she whispered softly.
He just stared, so she kissed him again, gently, slipping her tongue between his lips.
"I can't," he murmured, when she broke for air.
"Please," she begged, gazing into his eyes with so much love. He looked away.
"I really can't, Buffy, love."
"Is it because of before...?"
"No…Yes…I haven't fed and we can't while I'm hungry; the urge to bite…' He looked ashamed.
"It's alright, Spike, I trust you."
She silenced him with a finger to his lips and finished what she had been saying. "I trust you not to take too much."
Realization dawned on his face and he kissed her, savouring the feel and taste of her mouth. It had been so long, another lifetime ago. His hands roamed gently over her body, stroking her warm, silky skin as his kisses left her mouth and trailed down to her throat. She gasped as he kissed her pulse point, feeling her life throb under his tongue.
"Can we pretend it's our first time, together?"
He stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. "It is our first time together."
He peeled his shirt off, while Buffy undid his jeans and slid them down. His swollen manhood bounced against her body and she ran her hand gently over it. He continued kissing her, lower and lower until he reached her breasts, where he started to worship with his tongue.
She gasped, arching her back and pressing her body against him, her arms wrapping around him, holding him to her. Tenderly, he kissed his way back to her mouth, the tip of his manhood nudging at her slick entrance. His tongue plunged into her mouth at the same time as the first inch of him slid into her hot, throbbing centre. She returned his kiss but resisted the urge to speed things up. They were in new territory and she wanted this to go the way he wanted, for a change.
He was so tender; gentle, sensual kisses while he slowly penetrated her, an inch at a time. She had never felt anything so thrilling as this unbelievably slow love making. His kisses alone could make her wet and ready but add to that the look in his eyes as he gazed into hers, reading her responses to everything he was doing. It was as though she was the centre of his universe and his every move was for her pleasure. He knew her body inside out, knew when the tip of him was scraping against her G-spot, knew that the base of him was sliding over her clit and her nipples were rubbing on his chest.
She whimpered against his tongue as micro-orgasms rippled through her, following the timing of his slow, gentle thrusts. She couldn't take it, it would kill her, could she die of pleasure? She slowly realized that the tiny orgasms were building something bigger, something more powerful than anything she had ever experienced. She was struggling in his arms, losing control of her body but with no desire to escape him. Her breathing was too rapid for kisses and he was working his way down her neck again, teasing her with his tongue. She writhed and whimpered, part of her wanting to speed things up and part of her trying not to, never wanting this to end.
His organ flexed, expanded, altered somehow and the dam broke. Feelings crashed through her, too enormous to name, pain, pleasure, surrender - he could kill her right now and she'd beg him to do it. She needed to scream but all she could manage was a whimper, as he filled her more completely than ever before. Filling her to overflowing, pulling the overspill out of her and back into himself, as he drank.
His fangs were in her.
Every slayer instinct screamed at her that it was wrong but the pleasure was unbelievably intense. She had expected pain - all the other times had hurt - Angel had been agony, this was ecstasy; beyond anything she had ever felt.
She belonged to him.
As the thought flashed through her head, she felt his fangs withdraw and his tongue lovingly sealing the wounds.
"Don't stop," she pleaded, tears in her eyes.
"I have to."
"Why?" She sounded like a greedy child, pouting because there was no more ice cream.
"because you trust me."
"Why did it feel so good?"
"Because you trust me," he told her, a hint of wry amusement in his voice. "That's the first time you've really let go. Also, it's not just a vampire's face that changes shape.'
"You mean…Down there?"
"Yeah," he replied with a smirk.
"Wow! I love you so much," she murmured, snuggling in his arms as he finally slid out of her.
"I love you, too. More than anything."
"We are so perfect for each other."
"You only just realized that?"
"I think, deep down, I've always known."
"About time you admitted it," he said playfully, kissing the top of her head.
He was dreaming of the cave. Flaming torches on the wall, the scent of blood thick in the air. So much blood, none of it his; not this time. This time he was free. He followed the scent to the rock where he had been tied and tormented. Someone else there now. So much blood. She was naked and so red with blood that he wondered briefly if she'd been skinned. He moved closer 'til he could hear her heartbeat - slow, dying. Her blood stained hair hung over her face and he reached out his hand and gently pushed it aside.
Her eyes were open but unfocused and she was murmuring something, he had to get closer to hear.
"I believe in you, Spike…I believe in you, Spike..." her voice faltered and began to fade.
Then Drusilla was beside him, an axe in her hands.
"Slayers make good dollies, too," she said, then she morphed into a scruffy looking male vampire and swung the axe.
He raised his arm to block and the edge of the axe just clipped him at the base of his throat. He wrestled it out of her (his?) hands and realized he was awake!
The axe was swinging in his hands and a vampire's headless body was sinking to the floor in a pile of dust. He looked around, disorientated; he was standing by the bed, the scent of Buffy's blood filling the air.
"Please don't kill me."
The second vampire was backed up against the wall, obviously terrified.
"What are you doing here?" Spike demanded.
The vampire started babbling:
'We were looking for snacks, for the trip, through the portal at Willy's, we saw the light in your window, no invitation needed, tasered you both, saw who you were, did the world a favour, drained the slayer. God she tastes good.' He started to laugh, high as a kite on Buffy's blood.
Spike swung the axe again.
Buffy was sprawled across the bed, blood oozing from the bites on her wrists. Her skin was chalk white and her lips were tinged blue.
She was dying.
Spike lay down next to her and gathered her into his arms. She was barely breathing; he could hear her heart struggling to beat and knew that she would be gone in a matter of minutes. He held her close, his tears soaking into her hair.
"Cold," she murmured against his chest. She tilted her head to look at him. "Don't cry; you're nice and warm."
He kissed her forehead, gently.
"Rest now, Buffy; I've got your back."
She snuggled to him and he held her, listening to her heart getting slower and quieter. He wondered how many hours 'til sunrise; it had been a long time since he'd felt the sun on him. He was looking forward to it.
Her heart was louder, slightly faster. She swallowed again and he realized.
She was drinking. She had fastened onto the wound on his neck and she was sucking. He could feel the unique pull of his life force, as it flowed into her.
"Buffy, love; no," he tried to stop her but she clung to him with all her slayer strength, her mouth fastened to him, sucking so hard that he felt like he'd turn inside out. Her heart stopped, abruptly and, dying, she released him, falling limply back onto the bed. Spike slumped across her, his body trembling uncontrollably and tears pouring down his face. Buffy was dead. He had sired Buffy.
Bloody hell, when was sunrise?