All Over It by NautiBitz
CHAPTER FIVE: "Turnabout's Foreplay"
Chapter summary: Being a demon for an hour can really change a girl's point of view.
"So how'd you do it?" Willow swirled the straw in her 7-Up and teased, "Meet a hunky new vampire?"
"No," Buffy laughed, looking into her chai nonfat latte. "Definitely, no." She sucked on the stirrer. "The witchy women came through at the last second. I got all super-superpower-y."
"Oh, jealous!" Willow whined. "What was it like?"
"It was like me, times a jillion. Walking was problematic; I left some bigfoot-style holes all over town. But I also left a hole in Grosh's chest, so all's well that deads well."
"Buffy smash!" Xander did his best Hulk impression. "Grosh go crash!"
"Pretty much." Toasting to her victory, she tapped her cup against his.
"It was totally physical?" Willow said. "That's unusual."
"Is it?" Buffy kept her cool. "Guess they served me up somethin' special."
"Well, I wish we could've been there."
"I know, me too." Not really. "But I didn't want you guys to get hurt."
"Us get hurt?" Xander pshawed. "When does that happen besides every Tuesday?"
"Not every Tuesday..." A flash of platinum hair at the other end of the Bronze caught Buffy's eye. "I'll be right back. Pee break."
Buffy pushed through the crowd, but quickly lost sight of him. Probably wasn't him anyway. He's left town for good, just like I wanted him to.
Besides, if he acted in any way jerkish, she couldn't 100% promise to uphold the not-murdering-him end of their agreement. Things had changed since the power siphon. Slaying had changed. It had gotten more... stimulating. And more necessary. Like breathing air. And having sex. Like breathing air while having sex.
She'd spent the night soloing a vampire rave and emerged this morning powdered in ash, with a fractured ankle and a hella-sharp fang lodged in her shoulderblade. The fang was stowed into a keepsake box, alongside the ring Angel gave her and the drained amulet Spike wore to shoot her up with demon lifesmack. The ankle? Healed, thank god, or she wouldn't have had any shoes to go with this foxy new dress. A dress she so deserved after everything she went through.
Stiletto heels clicking down the dark, empty corridor to the restrooms, she ruminated over what she could possibly say to him. Sorry about the seizures. Hey, saw what it was like to be you for an hour; I totally get it now. By the way? Loved the sex. Better than Angel!
Yeah. Best she never, ever see him again.
And just as she finished making that resolution and felt pretty solid about it, Spike strut into her path.
For a few seconds, they froze, staring at each other.
He was the same Spike again. Muscley, alert, and well, gorgeous, come to think of it. Killing him was suddenly the furthest thing from her mind. Could he tell that her body was suddenly aching for a rematch? She hoped not.
Spike couldn't figure out what was going on in Buffy's head. She wasn't angry; wasn't happy either... Not that he cared. Nor did he care that she looked positively scrumptious in that silky little hot-pink number.
"Save the song and dance, Slayer. I'm leavin' town tonight."
"You have blood on your mouth." It was more observation than accusation.
"Well, yeah," he licked it from his lips, "Vampire, love. Or had you forgotten?"
"I'll never forget." Her voice trailed off at the end of the sentence.
He frowned slightly, searching her eyes.
She cleared her throat, but kept her mouth shut, deathly afraid that the next words out of it would be take me.
Talk, you pillock. And don't stare at her tits. "How'd the big world-saving go?"
Not at all awkwardly, she folded her arms over her chest. "Still here, isn't it?"
He trained his gaze from the vicinity of her visibly erect nipples to a fading poster on the wall beside her, spattered with dried blood. "Why I helped."
"So you could keep eating people."
"That was your big selling point, wasn't it? We all do what we have to, no matter who we suck the life out of in the process."
"Spike... I had no idea that would happen to you."
"Conscience all shiny and clear now? Good for you." He brushed past her.
Acting on instinct, she gripped his leather sleeve and shoved him against the wall. She couldn't let him go. Not yet. For some reason.
"Hate to break it to you, pet," he spun her around and pinned both her wrists high above her head, flyers and posters fluttering to the ground, "You're not calling the shots tonight."
Mirrored expressions of hatred and desire, and with an intake of breath, their mouths met for the very first time.
It was the end of the world all over again.
Elated, desperate, they came alive at each other's touch. He lifted her legs and ground against her warm center while she reflexively circled her hips. Grabbing his coat lapels, she hungrily probed his mouth with her tongue. A tinge of metallic in the taste... a trace of someone else's blood. Normally this would make her sick, but tonight it fueled the fire.
"Please," she begged between heady kisses, and that was all he needed to hear.
Feeling for the nearest door, he broke the padlock and elbowed it open to reveal a dark utility closet.
They stumbled in and the door swung shut behind them. He barricaded it by wedging a cluttered metal shelf under the knob. The clutter crashed to the tile floor.
The room was hot and stuffy and smelled like Pine-Sol, but she was alone with him, and kissing him, and that was enough. She yanked his jacket down, wanting to feel the muscles in his arms as he moved.
He knocked a column of bulk toilet paper off a crate that was just the right height. He draped his jacket over it, placed her on top, hiked up her dress and closed her legs to divest her of her underwear.
She let him stand between her legs again, let him run his hands up her inner thighs, part her labia with his fingertips, kiss her neck...
"No little crosses," he said, lips feathering her jugular vein.
"Lots of wood in here."
"Not of you." To prove it, she gave him the all-access pass, holding him fast against her throat.
Beside himself, he licked and sucked and bit at her forbidden neck, scraping her skin with blunt teeth.
When he plunged his middle finger inside of her, she squealed in ecstasy, rolled her hips frenetically to and fro.
He placed her hand over his hard-on. She squeezed with one hand, tugged his belt with the other. Took hold of his cock and brought it out.
He hissed. She arched backward, maneuvering her bottom towards him, guiding him in...
With a groan, he rammed in, up, all the way home.
She cried out and whispered hotly, "Oh, god, Spike..."
"Oh, Buffy... Buffy..."
"So good. It's so good..."
"So bad, too..."
She giggled, and he laughed. Their noses met for a randy eskimo kiss. Their tongues mingled teasingly as they weaved their fingers through each other's hair, bodies undulating...
Things were getting romantic, and they both knew that had to stop.
So she threw her head back and made physical signals to get rough, and he obliged.
Soon he was pounding into her, making her shout, making the crate rattle against the wall. "Take it, Slayer, take me in. Suck me dry like you did that night."
"I told you, I didn't—"
"I don't care," he growled. "Neither should you."
"Say you don't care." He rammed into her several times, waiting. "Say it!"
"I don't care!"
"That a girl," he murmured, and pumped slower.
With an urgent whimper, she grabbed him to keep him close, to keep him angled a certain way, keep his pubic bone rubbing against her swollen clit as she quickly bucked forward.
"Yes, yes, ye-es!" She drew out the last yes with abandon, letting herself yell for once.
Doesn't need a bloody amulet to wrench the living Hell out of a bloke. Jesus... fucking... "Christ, oh, Bu—!" Quaking, he exploded into her, whispering the rest of her name, shooting his dead-but-not-cold semen into her warm depths.
As they reeled from aftertremors, breathing pained and ragged, she clutched his head to her neck and began to pet his hair. For once, her partner hadn't turned catatonic or especially evil... yet, and she wasn't about to let him go and face the consequences.
He didn't move or try to stop the petting. Instead he warned her, "You're making a mistake."
She whispered, "I don't care."
"I'm leaving and I'm not coming back."
She took a deep breath to work up some conviction, and set him free. "I don't care."
It was time to say goodbye. Knowing she couldn't see him, he gazed at her for a moment, saw the conflict in her eyes. He grabbed a fistful of hair at the base of her skull and kissed her, hard and thorough. She mewled into his mouth.
Buffy had the softest lips he'd ever tasted, the kind of tongue he'd love to introduce to other parts of him, and the kind of body he wished he could explore... over several months, in a remote location where no one could find them. But she'd likely nix that idea.
Lulled by his expert tongue, Buffy found herself examining the pros and cons of having William the Bloody for a boyfriend.
Amazing kisser. Passionate, strong, fun, crazy loyal. Gets along with Mom for some reason... Good with hands, has ripply torso of steel, amazing kisser... can have sex with. For hours. Possibly days.
Aggravating, mean, fashion challenged, way possessive. Friends will disown me. Daylight picnics impossible... Dead. Mass murderer. Might eat me. Amazing kisser... amayyyzing lover... Well if I ever get vamped, at least I know who to OHMYGOD what am I thinking?
Arriving at the same conclusion, they grudgingly broke apart.
While Spike zipped up his pants, Buffy tried to fix her hair. It had been up in a loose bun, but now it was a mess. She could feel the wrinkles in her new dress, the bright red flush on her face. She'd really have to stop in the bathroom now.
Spike pulled a chain and the light went on. He looked at her, and down at his feet. "Well. This is it, then."
She cleared her throat and hopped off the crate. "Where we get off."
He arched a pointed brow.
With a brief chuckle, she rolled her eyes, said shyly, "Why didn't I go with 'end of the road'?"
He approached her, and she seemed cornered and confused. Fluorescent light, number one killer of moods. "Can I get my coat back?"
"What? Oh." She turned and picked up his coat, noticing the wet spot on the lining. "Did I do that? Oh, god, ew. Here, let me clean—"
"No worries, love," he said, giving the stain a quick wipe with his t-shirt before slipping the coat on. "Gives it character."
"You're disgusting," she said, actually repulsed.
"And we've come full circle." Spike glanced around the tiny room. She was right about the wood — all manner of mops, brooms, paint rods... "But I get points for saving the world, right? A little non-staking for good behavior."
She held up a hand. "Just... don't."
"Right." He breathed in, knowing what he had to do — this was a dead end, plain and simple. Emphasis on 'dead'. He knew her true nature, and even if she was being strangely forgiving now, it couldn't last. As much as he'd love to toss her over his shoulder, throw her in his car and take her with him, that wasn't how the world worked. "Well. Until the next apocalypse, then."
She sighed. "Hope not."
"Yeah," he said. "Hope I never have to see you again."
"Spike?" she said as he cleared the way to the door.
"Oh, pfft," he waved his hand, gave her an innocent look. "Tore on your heel. Completely ruined. You got no use for 'em."
"And you do?" She gave up. "Fine. As long as you don't wear them."
"Maybe just on my head then. Y'know, for a moment of quiet reflection. Not down the promenade or anything."
"Right," she said with a low chuckle.
He stilled, smiled genuinely. Drinking her in. "Take care, Buffy."
"Yeah. You too, Spike."
At that, he walked out of her life.
Buffy found Willow and Xander near the stage. "Hey, guys."
"Buffy! You disappeared! Where'd you go?"
"Aw, were ya worried about me?"
"Well, it was a toss-up between you ditched us, or the toilet monster swallowed you up."
Buffy smiled. "Toilet monster doesn't swallow. Just nibbles a little."
"A-ha." He grinned. "Do we get to see the bite marks?"
"I would, but Cordy might get the wrong idea."
"So what really happened?"
She shrugged as if it were nothing. "Ran into a vamp. Turned into a wrestling match, yadda yadda; see above re: every Tuesday."
"Was it a girl and was there mud? Just let me picture it for a second before you answer."
He snapped his fingers in disappointment. "Oh! Too soon!"
"Oh!" Willow blurted excitedly, "We also ruled you out as the skank having sex in the utility closet."
A smile froze on Buffy's face. "What?"
"Yeah, you missed it," Xander said. "Someone got lucky tonight. Or, you know, someone got very drunk and impressionable tonight."
Buffy hoped she wasn't blushing. "Really? How could you tell?"
"Well, noises and things. You know." Willow lowered her voice and leaned in. "Sex noises. I had to forcibly pull Xander away from the door."
"Yep. So it was toilet monster, ditch, or skank. Or, you know," Xander feigned boredom by slumping his shoulders and rolling his eyes, "Slaying a vampire and protecting the world."
"Sorry to disappoint." Actually it's B and C, plus E, 'Biggest Liar on Earth'... add to that F, 'Worst Slayer Ever' and you've pretty much got me pegged!
"Well, it's good you're back — Dingoes are going on in a few minutes. Uh-oh, Angel alert."
Buffy's eyes widened. She didn't turn. "Where?"
"Just walked in the front. Are you still avoidy?"
"Yeah, I — I can't see him right now." Shower, must shower, right away... "If he asks, can you tell him I felt sick and went home?"
"Thanks. Tell Oz I'm sorry I missed," she apologized, and motored out the back door.
Spike got into his car, shoved the liquor bottles out of the way and patted his chest pockets for his keys. Digging a hand in his hip pocket, he pulled out a pair of lacy, hot-pink panties. Brought it to his nose and breathed in. Shook his head with a smile.
"'Til next time, gorgeous."
Finding the keys, he gunned the engine and careened out of the parking lot, tires screeching.
As he turned onto Main Street, he saw a man walking and slowed to see if he might have a few bucks he could steal... Not likely. It was Angel.
Grinning widely, Spike dangled Buffy's panties out the window and drove off with a whooping holler.
Angel looked after the speeding car and frowned. Is that...? A scent caught his nose. Is that...?
He shook his head. No. No way in hell.
"Buffy." After crashing a Scooby meeting, Angel cornered her in the library stacks. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you — t-tell you what?" Remember, innocent until proven slutty...
"About Grosh. I could've helped."
Oh, thank god. "That's okay, he's dead now. Cold and heartless, just like I like 'em."
"Yeah. The witch power thing. Glad that did the trick." He lowered his voice. "But if you'd come to me I could have told you about the legend."
"Legend? Wh — there's a legend?"
"There's a way I could have transferred the source of my power to you."
"Huh?" Have you completely lost your mind?
"I won't get into the details, but the transfer would've been temporary, only 'til you killed him. And my soul would have canceled out all the negative consequences for you. I'm surprised Giles didn't know about this."
Stunned, Buffy stared at him. "I could have... " ...saved the world by being with the man I love? ...avoided sleeping with the enemy? ...not had the opportunity to fall for someone else?
Oh god. Did I fall for someone else?
"Buffy?" Giles called.
She pointed towards her Watcher's voice. "I need to — I'm gonna..."
"Yeah. It doesn't matter anyway. You killed him. That's the important thing," he said, staring at her longingly.
With a nod, Buffy walked numbly out to the main area, Angel following.
"Yes, Buffy, I need you to—"
Suddenly, the library doors swung open, and everyone turned.
Heart racing, Buffy braced herself... until Faith casually ambled in.
"So. What'd I miss?"