Are We Friends?
Buffy walked along, kicking at stones as she muttered to herself.
"This just sucks! Everybody goes away on vacation – including Riley. But does Buffy get to go on vacation? Oh no, The Slayer has to stay on the Hellmouth. Just in case some vampires might need staking. Like every vampire in Sunnydale hasn't gone away for the summer just like everybody else!"
She continued her self-pitying diatribe all the way into Restfield Cemetery, where she stopped and sat down on a tombstone to pout.
"I could be at the beach. I could be shopping in LA with Cordy. I could be hitting the clubs with..." She stopped, not sure who she would have been hitting the clubs with. Somehow she just couldn't picture Riley dancing it up in an LA nightclub. She giggled at the idea of her straight-arrow boyfriend sitting next to a couple of transvestite coke dealers. Or dancing to one of the hot bands currently playing in LA clubs.
"It's not his fault he has no rhythm," she said loyally. "Or that he's a foot taller than me and my face gets smooshed into his chest when we slow dance. He's my boyfriend and if I was going to go out, of course, he's who I'd want to go with."
"Talkin' to yourself, then, Slayer?"
The fact that she was glad to hear that familiar British drawl was proof positive to Buffy that she was officially bored out of her mind. She glanced up to see the good-looking, but oh-so-annoying vampire staring at her curiously with his head tilted to the side. She found herself staring at him, running her eyes from the chiseled features of his face down his undeniably toned body.
"Slayer?" he repeated when she didn't answer him immediately.
His second question snapped her out of the wildly inappropriate Very bad. Bad, bad Buffy. There will be no ogling the sexy vampir. thoughts she found herself entertaining about him.
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and repeated, "I asked if you were talkin' to yourself?"
"Oh. I knew that." She blinked at him and continued, "It's not like I've got anybody else to talk with."
Her lower lip went out as she began to pout again. "Everybody is away on vacation. Except me. I never get to go anywhere!".
He studied her unhappy face for a minute, forcing himself not to dwell on how tempting her lower lip was.
No, mate. Don't go there. Don't think about sucking that sexy little lip into your... He shook himself and asked carefully, "So everyone? Capt' Cardboard didn't stick around to keep you company?" Bloody fool! Leavin' her on her own.
"No," she said with another pout. "He went back to Iowa to visit his family. Everybody's gone somewhere. Everybody except me. There aren't even any vampires to slay..." She looked up at him speculatively and he backed up quickly.
"Easy there, pet. Harmless vampire, here, remember?"
She sighed and rolled her eyes at him.
"I know that, you big baby. I'm not going to slay you just cause I'm bored."
"Could help you patrol," he mumbled, looking at the ground and poking it with the toe of his shoe.
Buffy looked at him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Would you?" she asked more hopefully than she had intended. "Even your company is better than no company at all."
"Oh, thanks ever so, pet," he answered, rolling his eyes. "You really know how to make a bloke feel wanted."
"Why would I want to make you feel wanted?"
"Never mind," he growled. "It's just an expression."
Buffy shook her head at him and jumped off the tombstone.
"'K, then. Let's go find something to beat up."
He grinned as he fell into step beside her.
"My kind of woman," he smirked as she rolled her eyes and lightly punched his arm.
"As if," she huffed.
As if he'd be interested in the woman who was born to kill him.
Oh, Slayer, if you only knew...
To the delight of both frustrated people, they ran into a Fyral demon skulking outside the Bronze.
"After you, m' lady," Spike laughed as Buffy jumped in front of him yelling, "Mine!"
As much as he would have enjoyed the rough and tumble of a fight himself, he was just as happy to watch the little bundle of power in front of him as she kicked and punched and whirled around the angry demon. As always when he watched her fight, his pants were soon uncomfortably tight and he shifted under his duster to relieve the pressure. When a strong backhanded swipe from the Fyarl sent Buffy into the brick wall, Spike went instantly from interested onlooker to active participant.
With a roar, he leaped onto the Fyarl, trying to wrestle it to the ground. Instead, he found himself being thrown off to join Buffy in the dirt at the foot of the wall. The two temporary allies exchanged a look and then leaped to their feet simultaneously. Without having to say a word, they attacked the still angry demon, Buffy going for his knees and Spike leaping toward his head.
As Buffy's leg sweep brought the demon down, Spike went into game face and buried his teeth in the Fyarl's thick neck. Buffy heard a soft, "oof" as the large demon fell backwards and landed on Spike. She kicked the it as hard as she could in what she assumed would be its most tender parts and when he reached for himself with a very un-demonlike scream, Spike grabbed his now upright head and twisted until the neck snapped.
He threw the now-dead Fyarl off and sat up with a grin on his face. He was met by Buffy's matching grin as she offered her hand to help him up.
"That's the most fun I've had all week," she panted, still smiling at the equally energized vampire.
"It was a bit of alright, luv," he agreed, smiling back at her.
He was still holding on to the hand she had used to pull him up. Without realizing what they were doing, they moved toward each other. Buffy's still-heaving chest drew his eyes and he found himself breathing in concert with her. A sudden escalation of her heart rate made him look up to her face and he saw that she was blushing furiously.
He found himself leaning in toward her, not really sure what he was planning to do, but unable to stop himself from getting as close to her as he could. Buffy was staring at his rapidly approached mouth, remembering from Willow's spell the previous fall how incredibly soft and supple those lips could be.
What am I doing? Am I gonna try to kiss her? She'll stake me for sure. Might be worth it, though...
What is he doing? Is he going to kiss me? I don't want him to kiss me! Evil vampire. No kissing the evil vampire. Why am I not moving?
The moment was interrupted as the door to the Bronze opened and a group of laughing, shoving boys came tumbling out. Buffy and Spike jumped away as if they had been shocked, neither one willing to meet the other's eyes.
By silent mutual agreement, they faded back into the shadows until they were sure the boys' attention was on the dead Fyarl, then they left the alley as quickly as they could.
They walked in uncomfortable silence for several blocks, until finally Spike couldn't stand it any longer.
Bollocks! What the hell am I gonna say? I wanted to kiss you? I didn't want to kiss you? I want to shag you into the ground? There's no way to get out of this without gettin' dusty.
"It never happened." The Slayer's voice brooked no disagreement and he sighed briefly before he agreed.
"What never happened?"
I never, for one second, wanted you to kiss me. Ok, maybe in the heat of the moment...but, no. Not an option.
They walked some more in silence until Buffy suddenly realized they were in front of her house. She looked at Spike curiously, wondering if he'd meant to walk her home, but deciding she really didn't want to know.
"Well, I live here," she said awkwardly.
"Yeah, know that," he responded with a grin.
"It was kinda...fun. Beating up the demon together, I mean."
"Yeah, it was. Nothin' like a bit of violence to perk up an evening."
"So, maybe...you might want to—"
"Oh, absolutely! Tomorrow?"
"Uh, yeah. I was thinking tomorrow night, we could... If you're not busy doing... stuff."
"Nope, no stuff."
"'K, then. See ya, Spike."
She turned quickly toward her door, still not willing to look at him.
"Good night, Slayer," he said softly. When she was safely in the house, he turned back toward his cemetery and whispered, "Till tomorrow."
The rest of the summer weeks passed quickly as they fell into a routine. Spike would appear outside her house and wait for her to come out, then they would stroll through the cemeteries of Sunnydale, looking for demons or vampires to fight. Even though the chances to work up a good sweat remained as few and far between as had been the case all summer, the evenings were much less boring as the two former enemies settled into companionable habits.
Spike was full of tales of foreign countries, exotic demons, and funny stories about his years of mayhem with which he would entertain her for hours. He was careful not to bring up anything involving Angelus once he discovered that could ruin Buffy's mood for the rest of the evening. Although he did catch the corners of her mouth quirking up a couple of times when he was describing something Angelus had done that was particularly pompous.
Buffy talked about her classes at Sunnydale University; about how surprised she was to find that she enjoyed her class in poetry and how she wished she had more time for it. When Spike let on that he also liked poetry and was quite knowledgeable about it, Buffy began to look at him in a totally new light. Especially when he surprised her one night by shoving a book into her hand as he was leaving.
"Thought you might like this, Slayer," he said gruffly, leaving before she could even thank him.
Buffy walked into the house and took the book into the well-lit kitchen to look at it. It was bound in leather and appeared to be quite old. Her mother noticed and took it out of her hand.
"Buffy, this is a first edition of William Wordsworth's poetry! Where did you get it?"
"Sp—Spike gave it to me. He said he thought I might like it."
"Well, it's too valuable for you to accept as a gift. You'll have to give it back to him after you've read through it. You can make copies of any poems you really like." Her mother was firm and Buffy didn't feel like arguing with her so she nodded her head and took the book back. She took it upstairs with her and spent the rest of the night reading the poems until she fell asleep.
The next evening, when Spike appeared outside, her mother went out and insisted he come in the house to wait for Buffy. She fixed him a cup of hot chocolate and studied him over the rim of her cup as he drank it.
"Spike," she began finally. "You know I like you. We've never revoked your invitation. Why do you always wait outside?"
He blinked at her in surprise.
"Didn't know that, Joyce. Just assumed it had been and didn't want to ask the Slayer to..."
"To ask the Slayer what?" Buffy asked as she came into the kitchen.
"We were just discussing the fact that Spike could have come in anytime rather than standing out on the lawn to wait for you. Why didn't you tell him to come in, Buffy?"
Her mother fixed her with one of her patented, 'I raised you with better manners than that," glares and Buffy looked at the floor with embarrassment.
To Spike's absolute amazement, Buffy mumbled a sincere sounding, "I'm sorry, Spike. I just didn't think about it. I thought you didn't want to come in."
He just stared at her with an expression of complete astonishment on his face.
"Did you just apologize to me for something?" he asked, a smile beginning to turn up the corners of his mouth.
"Don't let it go to your head, Fangface," she snapped at him, but she smiled as she did it.
Her mother shook her head at the two of them and excused herself to go pack for her upcoming trip to New York.
Buffy and Spike began their usual rounds with the Slayer being uncharacteristically quiet.
"What's the matter, luv?" he asked curiously. He really wanted to ask if she'd like the book, but was afraid to bring it up until she did.
"Nothing," she sighed. "It's just, Mom's going to New York for a week and once again I'm left behind to twiddle my thumbs while everyone else goes off to have fun."
"Oh," he said quietly, then, "I thought we'd been havin' fun, pet." He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but she shot him an apologetic look and put her warm hand on his arm.
"We have, Spike. Really. I would have gone insane by now if I hadn't had you to patrol with me every night. It's just..."
"Just...?" He cocked an eyebrow at her and waited for more information. His arm felt like it was on fire where her small hand still rested on it.
She sighed and dropped the hand back to her side, not noticing the disappointment on his face.
"I just wish I had a chance to go somewhere. Even if it was just LA for a night. I'd like a reason to get dressed up. I'd like to go dancing..."
She looked up a Spike and shrugged, "I'm sorry, Spike. Guess I'm not very good company tonight, am I? I'm all whiny Buffy."
"'S alright, pet. All work and no play makes the Slayer a grouchy girl. Got it. Think I've got the cure," he said carefully, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
She gazed back at him expectantly.
He looked away from her, just in case she was going to over-react to his suggestion and offered, "Could take you to LA. Take you clubbin' for a night. If you want. It's not like there's so much goin' on here in Sunnyhell that things are gonna get outa control if you miss a night."
He held his unneeded breath as he waited for her to recoil in disgust. Instead, she looked at him with wide eyes and squealed.
"Would you do that for me? Would you really? We could go to, like, a real club? With people, and music and drinking and dancing?"
She looked up at him with sparkling eyes, then suddenly her joy faded and she asked tentatively, "You did mean a human club, didn't you? Not some demon bar."
Biting back his irritation, he nodded his head and said, "Yes, luv. a real club, with music and dancin'. Not too sure about the drinking though, Slayer." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Heard some awful things about Slayers and beer..."
"It was MAGIC beer!" she huffed, then realized he was laughing at her. "Well, it was," she repeated, flushing slightly. "Although, alcohol and Buffy? Probably not such mixy things."
"The English language and Buffy aren't such "mixy" things either," he snarked at her and earning himself another punch on the arm. The punch didn't hurt and the physical contact made him smile again.
His comment about language reminded Buffy of the poetry book he'd given her, and she sighed as she changed the subject.
"Spike? That book you gave me – Mom says it's really valuable and that I shouldn't keep it."
"Did you like it, pet?" He waited for her answer, an anxious expression on his face.
"Oh, I loved it! Can I keep it long enough to make copies of the poems I like best?"
"If you like it, luv, I want you to keep it. Just hide it from your mum if you need to. If I want it back someday, I'll know where to come for it."
Buffy couldn't think of what to say to lighten the conversation again, so she settled for a quiet "thank you". She then shocked both of them by standing on her toes to put a quick kiss on his cheek.
She quickly whirled away from him, her face flaming just in time to see two fledglings climbing out of their graves.
"Oh looky! One for each of us!" she cried as she sprinted toward the hungry-looking vampires. Spike stood rooted to the spot, his hand touching his cheek where her lips had brushed it so briefly. He finally shook himself out of his stupor and leapt to join the fight.
Neither of them were ready to continue their conversation, so they took their time; playing with the newly risen vampires until Buffy started to tire. When she decided it was time to dust her playmate before she made a mistake, she looked at Spike and nodded. He ripped the head off his opponent at the same time that she staked hers and they stood amidst the floating dust, smiling at each other.
As had become their custom, Spike walked with her back to the house on Revello Drive. He came all the way up on the porch this time and there was a moment of awkwardness before Buffy's mother rescued them by opening the door and smiling at Spike as Buffy walked in.
"You two are back early tonight. No bad guys about?" she asked as she motioned for the vampire to come in also.
He looked at Buffy first for permission and laughed when Joyce rolled her eyes in a good imitation of her daughter.
"It is my house, Spike," she said with exasperation. "You don't have to have her permission to come in."
"I find it's better for my overall health if I do." He smiled gratefully at Joyce and laughed when Buffy glared at him.
Joyce sent another disapproving look at her daughter, then said 'Goodnight" to both of them and went to her room. She gave Buffy a kiss and told her she would undoubtedly be gone by the time she got up in the morning.
"I'll call you when I get to New York," her mother said as she went upstairs.
Spike sauntered in to the living room and sprawled on the couch, TV remote in hand.
"Come on, Slayer. Let's see if we can find a Monty Python movie."
"Oh joy," she grumbled as she sat down beside him. "More unfunny British humor."
He looked at her in horror. "Unfunny? Are you daft? This is timeless!" he said as he found what he was looking for and turned the volume up.
"Hey, turn that down! My mom's trying to sleep," she hissed as she grabbed for the remote. He immediately held it up out of her reach and laughed as she jumped for it. With a triumphant shout, she snatched it out of his hand, only to find that her leap had left her lying across his body with her breasts pushed up against his face.
They remained frozen in place, each waiting for the other one to do something. Buffy gradually slid back down toward her seat on the couch, a motion that caused her breast to drag across Spike's face. She felt a cool puff of air across her nipple as he let out a muffled groan when it slid past his mouth. No sooner was her breast free from close proximity to his lips, than she found her face right in front of them.
Spike's arm had dropped to help support her body as she tried to get back onto the couch without dropping the remote. He could feel her trembling as he wrapped the other arm around her and held her in place. Piercing blue eyes bored into frightened green ones as their lips moved closer together.
He brushed his lips lightly across hers, reveling in their warm softness, even as he waited for her to shove him away. Instead, she slowly applied pressure until she was kissing him back almost against her will.
When Buffy's lips parted in a sigh, he quickly slid his tongue in and gently ran it over lips and teeth, asked for more. He was immediately rewarded by her warm little tongue darting out to touch his briefly, then retreating as though she thought better of it. Slowly and gently, he continued to kiss her; lightly touching her with his tongue, but not forcing it into her mouth. When she opened her mouth wider and sent her own tongue out to tangle with his, he groaned and pulled her down into his lap just as he had during their brief, spell-induced engagement.
Buffy allowed herself to sink into the bone melting kisses that she already knew so well from the spell. In no time she was breathing hard and lying across his lap while his free hand roamed over her body, leaving heated trails everywhere it went. She made no attempt to touch him except where her lips and tongue were glued to his. She just reclined bonelessly and let him kiss and fondle her into a dream-like state in which the fact that he was a vampire and that she had a boyfriend were only vague thoughts floating through her pleasure seeking brain.
Even when his hands became bolder and slipped under her shirt to cup a breast and roll the peaked nipple between his fingers, she didn't have any reaction to what he was doing except to hope he kept doing it. It wasn't until the things he was whispering in her ear began to register that she remembered who they were and how wrong it was to be doing what they were doing.
"Got to touch you, pet. Let me touch you. Want to taste you. Want you to touch me. Please, Buffy. Touch me, love."
Buffy came back to earth with a thud when she realized that one hand was slipping into her low cut jeans. His other was pushing her hand down between their bodies to where his hard length was pressing into her thigh.
"Oh my god! What are you doing? Stop it Spike. Stop it, now!"
She pushed so frantically at his chest that she actually fell off his lap and landed on the floor. She looked up at him in horror, her hair hanging in tendrils around her face, her eyes wide open with fear and disgust.
He stared at her horrified face and felt something inside him go from soft and warm to hard and cold.
"What was I doing? Case you didn't notice, Slayer, there are two of us sittin' here."
The hands that had been caressing her so skillfully just a few seconds ago were now clenched into fists and the eyes that had been so heated now had gold flecks flashing through them. He was taking rapid, unnecessary breaths as he struggled to control his demon.
Buffy sat on the floor, the expression on her face going from horrified to angry as she responded to the rage on his face.
"You...you took advantage of me," she spit at him. "I trusted you and you tried to—"
"I tried to make love to you, you cock teasing bitch. And don't you try to tell me you didn't know what I was doing. You were bloody well enjoying every second of it until I asked you to touch me. Guess that's a little too much for those lily white Slayer hands, huh?"
He stood up and headed for the door, his duster billowing behind him. When he heard a quiet, "Spike," from the living room, he stopped, but didn't turn around.
"I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you..."
"Yeah? Well, you did, alright?" He lowered his head and his voice, but refused to turn around to look at her. She could see that he was still shaking with an emotion that she hoped was still rage.
"G'night, Slayer," he gritted out as he pulled the door open and disappeared into the night.
Buffy remained sitting on the floor after Spike left, holding her head in her hands and mentally reviewing the night's activities.
Was this MY fault? Did I send signals that made him think I...?
She tried to hold on to her righteous indignation, but her innate honesty was stronger even than her ability to live in denial and she fell backwards with a groan.
Oh yeah, this is my fault. I totally wallowed in what he was doing to me. It felt so good I didn't care who it was. I am total slut-Buffy.
She groaned again and sat up, looking at the couch where they had been having so much fun such a short time ago. She understood with a sudden flash of insight that the past weeks' companionship had become much more important to Spike than it had to her.
At least, I think it has. Hasn't it? Has our...friendship...become important to me? Do I care that I hurt a soulless vampire?
She shot to her feet when she realized that the answer to that question was a definite "yes". Somehow, during the past weeks of leisurely walks through Sunnydale's cemeteries, the talks about exotic countries and beautiful poetry, Spike had transformed himself from an annoying but harmless vampire into a friend.
A gorgeous, sexy—no,no. No sexy. A loyal, strong and funny friend. Who is one helluva kisser. Gah!
She took a deep steadying breath and mentally reviewed her options.
Okay. I can wait for him to cool off and hope he's willing to pretend it never happened. That could work. Ignoring things is always of the good...No, that won't work. It's Spike. He's not going to ignore it. He's going to want to talk about it, make me admit...argh! He's going to worry this to death!
Or, I could go over there right now. Just grab the bull by the horny—horns! Grab the bull by the horns and make him understand that I...That I what? That I can't resist him when he kisses me? That my body refuses to listen to my brain when he's around? Yeah, that'll work. Tell the evil vampire he has to be strong because the Slayer, Heaven's Chosen One, is too much of a slut to be trusted alone with him? Yeah, that'll work.
Even as she told herself how ridiculous that would be, a little voice in the back of her head was whispering that it probably would work. If she sincerely asked Spike to back off, he probably would do it. For her. That thought was so disruptive to her view of the world, she immediately dismissed it as complete fantasy.
She paced back and forth across the living room, frantically trying to decide what was the best way to handle this obviously awkward situation. Finally, she chose to do what she did best in emotionally dangerous situations – she decided to ignore it. She would go to bed, get a good night's sleep, and forget about the sexy vampire and his obvious desire for her.
Two hours later, after tossing and turning in her bed trying to forget cool hands stroking her thighs while she drowned in long, wet, sensuous kisses Buffy was no closer to sleep than she had been when she left the living room. She lay face down on her bed, pressing her body into the mattress as she imagined it to be a hard, lean muscular body under hers. When she realized she was grinding her hips into the bed, attempting to put pressure where there was suddenly a tremendous need for friction, she groaned and gave up pretending.
She rolled over, pushed her pajama bottoms down and began vigorously rubbing her aching clit. A few minutes of rolling it back and forth with her strong fingers and she brought herself a welcome release. She tried very hard to picture Riley's face as she got herself off, but when she spasmed against her hand, it was a pair of sad blue eyes under platinum hair that she saw looking at her and a vampire's name that left her lips.
The last thing she noticed before drifting off to sleep was the smell of cigarettes and she cursed herself for not only picturing Spike's face but thinking she could smell him. She thought, just before she fell asleep that she felt the tingle on her neck telling her a vampire was near, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She snuggled into her pillow and promised herself she would make it up to Spike when he came over the following evening.
By the time 10:00 had come and gone, with no sign of Spike, Buffy had gone back and forth between seriously pissed...
Where the hell is he? Is he standing me up? No, no, standing up. That would imply a date and we aren't dating. No dating. But he should tell me if he's not coming –okay, bad choice of words – he should tell me not to expect him so I don't worry.
He's always here as soon as the sun sets. What if something happened? Maybe he was so mad he jumped something too big for him to handle alone. Maybe he's dust. Oh God, don't let him be dust!
and back to seriously pissed...
Maybe he found another girl to hang out with and he's shagging her right now. That sleazy, bleached blond pig! I'll kill him. I'll rip his head right off his shoulders.
While she finished her internal rant, she was storming out the door in the direction of Restfield Cemetery, vowing to beat Spike to a pulp for not showing up when she expected him, regardless of his reason.
By the time she got to the door of his crypt, she had worked herself into such a frenzy that she burst through the door even faster than she normally did. Without pausing to look around, she flew over to the partially naked vampire she could see lying face down and humping on top of a sarcophagus.
"I knew it!" she yelled as she grabbed him by the shoulder. "I knew you were a pig. Couldn't have me, so just went and found some..." Her voice trailed off as she turned him over and saw that he was lying not on another woman, but a piece of lingerie that looked oddly familiar.
She was frozen in place, staring at his hands and the smooth, hard shaft he was holding. His pants were pushed down his hips and jutting out from a nest of light brown curls was the thick, pale column of his cock, still wrapped in the hand with which he'd been pumping it when she blew into the room.
Instead of acting embarrassed and covering himself up, Spike just rolled onto his back with an exaggerated sigh. That left his impressively large and still hard cock right in front of her thunderstruck face.
When several seconds had gone by and Buffy's eyes were still riveted on his manly equipment, he snarled and yanked his pants closed.
"If you don't want to touch my wriggly bits, you don't need to be gawking at them, Slayer."
Shocked out of her rapt absorption in his no longer visible cock, she recoiled with a shudder.
"What were you doing, Spike? And is that my camisole? Eeeew!"
"Had a little tension to work off, Slayer. You know how that is, don't you?" He stared hard at her, daring her to deny it.
Which, of course, she did. Vigorously.
"Wha-? I don't know what you're talking about. You are such a pig!"
She whirled away from him, her face flaming as she remembered how she'd put herself to sleep last night. When she heard Spike's disbelieving snort, she remembered the tingle in her neck and the smell of cigarettes just before she fell asleep.
"You were spying on me? You...you...you..." The blush had spread to her whole body and she glared at him speechlessly.
"Pig? Disgusting thing? Vampire?" he offered helpfully. "Can't have it both ways, pet. If I'm disgusting for wankin' off on somethin' that smells like you, what does that make you for callin' my name when you do the same thing?"
Completely unable to make any coherent sounds, Buffy resorted to her solution of choice and buried her fist in his face. Her complete mortification that he not only knew what she'd done, but had listened to her do it, fueled her anger and she continued to pound on his face and body, tears of humiliation and rage pouring down her face as she did so.
Eventually her arms got tired and she slowed down enough to realize that she had beaten him into unconsciousness and he was now a bruised and bleeding body at her feet. She flinched back from the sight in front of her; horrified at what she had done but unable to do anything but stare at him and shake.
"S-Spike?" she ventured softly, reaching a trembling hand toward his almost unrecognizable face. "Oh my god," she moaned as she slid to the floor. Fresh tears flowed down her face as she looked at what she had done to the vampire.
"I'm sorry, Spike. I am so sorry." She leaned over the inert body, heedless of the blood that was soaking her shirt and tried to pull him into her lap. "Be all right, Spike. Please be all right. I'm so sorry. Oh god, I am so sorry."
She held his head and shoulders in her lap and sobbed her apologies as she ran her hands over his face gently, searching for broken bones hidden by the cuts and bruises. Her tears ran down her face and dripped onto his bare chest, mingling with the blood already there and lightening it to a watery pink. When she satisfied herself that she hadn't broken any important bones, she just held him and rocked back and forth crying and mumbling "I'm sorry" over and over.
It wasn't long before vampire recovery kicked in and the bruised and bleeding victim opened one swollen eye to find himself pressed up against Buffy's breast while she rained tears down onto his head. He allowed himself some time to enjoy the feel of her soft breast against his cheek and to inhale the wonderful Buffy smell coming from her cleavage. Eventually, however, he knew he had to move and he raised his head slightly to grumble, "Bloody Hell, Slayer. First you try to beat me to death and now you're trying to drown me."
She gasped and looked down at the man in her lap, fear and joy battling in her face.
"Spike?" Her voice trembled and she looked at him anxiously. "Are you all right?"
"Do I look alright, Slayer?" he snarled at her, trying to sit up without wincing. He leaned back against the side of the sarcophagus and let out a deep breath as he felt cracked ribs try to knit themselves back into position. He could hear Buffy's hiccupping breaths and knew she was still crying, but his anger at her still flared too strongly for him to care.
For a long time they just sat like that. The vampire resting against the cold stone, waiting for the pain in his body to subside enough for him to get up and clean himself off. The Slayer kneeling beside him on the cold floor, struggling to control the sobs still escaping from her throat as she watched his face for any sign of the affection she had become accustomed to seeing there.
Finally he gave another impatient sigh and reached a hand toward her tear streaked face to push her hair back out of the way. He looked at her until she raised her eyes to his and he could see the genuine grief and regret there.
"Stop the blubbering, pet. You didn't kill me. Give me some blood and a day's rest, and I'll be fine." He peered up at her out of the corners of his eyes as he added, "That trip to LA might have to wait a while, though. Don't want to appear in public till I'm pretty again."
Buffy was thunderstruck that he would be joking about his condition, and that he was still thinking about taking her out.
"You...you don't hate me?" she asked in a meek voice. "You still want to take me to LA?"
"Haven't hated you for a long time, luv," he admitted with his eyes shut again. "And I promised you, didn't I? Always keep my promises, if I can." He opened his one functional eye and glared at her, "But if I ever lose this chip, I can't promise I won't kill you if you ever go off on me like that again."
The reminder that she had done all this damage to someone who was physically incapable of fighting back was all it took to start the tears again. This time he reached out with the arm away from his broken ribs and pulled the sobbing girl into his side. He held her there as tightly as he could, making soft shushing sounds and planting light kisses on the top of her head.
As soon as her sobs had tapered off to sniffles, he shifted her away from his body and asked quietly, "Do you think I could get a little help here, pet?"
"Wha-? Oh, yes, of course. What do you need? What can I do?"
"Jus' help me get back up on m'bed and then maybe bring me some blood from the fridge."
Buffy leaped to feet and used her Slayer strength to lift him up far enough that he could climb onto the flat top. As soon as he was settled onto his back and resting, she ran to the small refrigerator and pulled out a bag of blood. She looked at the cold pig's blood for a minute, then squared her shoulders and put it back.
She marched back over to the reclining vampire who was eyeing her curiously.
"Where's m'blood, then?" he asked, cocking his head at her.
"It's right here," she said firmly as she climbed up beside him and presented her neck.
He gawked at her in disbelief.
"Are you crazy, Slayer? I get that you feel guilty...and you should...but this is ridiculous. Can't do it anyway. You know that."
She blushed from the roots of her hair as far down her neck as he could see. The sight of all that warm blood rushing to the area right in front of his face created a bulge in his jeans that he had no way to hide. He felt his demon struggling to get out and take what was being offered and he knew he was staring at the pulse pounding in her throat.
"You could if it was freely offered," she said softly, "and...if you weren't trying to hurt me...I don't think the chip would fire."
She raised her eyes to his and asked the question to which she already knew the answer.
"You can bite me without wanting to hurt me or drain me, can't you, Spike? Isn't that something vampires do when they..." In spite of her firm intentions, she couldn't finish the sentence and dropped her eyes away from the blaze she'd ignited in his.
"Are you sure you want to do this, love?" She could see the hope and excitement on his face and knew how much effort it was taking for him to give her a way out.
"I...I'm sure," she said firmly. "I want to make up for hurting you. Both times," she added quietly, referring to her violent rejection of his love making the night before.
Before she could change her mind, she got as close as she could without hurting his ribs and again offered her soft, creamy neck to him. She braced herself for the pain of his teeth sinking into her flesh, but instead he fastened his lips on her throat and sucked gently for a second before planting kisses all over it. He worked his way up past her jaw and to her mouth, which he took gently and began worshipping with one of his time-warping kisses. Buffy could feel how swollen his lips were, and could taste the coppery blood on them, but his talented tongue soon erased thoughts of anything except the warmth flooding her body.
As his hands moved up and down her now heated body, he began licking a path down her throat to the pulse pounding away in it. The shift into game face was so smooth, Buffy didn't even notice it had happened until she felt the prick of his sharp canines as they slid into her skin.
The minor pain was replaced immediately by a sensuous surrender that was totally foreign to her. As he began pulling, taking long, slow draughts of her potent blood, she felt tension building in her lower body, which culminated in a sudden orgasm that caught her completely by surprise.
While she gasped, struggling to recover from the completely unexpected effects of his bite, she could feel Spike smiling against her neck as he licked his bite wound closed.
"Did you know that would happen?" she demanded, not even bothering to wonder if he knew what he'd done to her.
"Yep," he said, sounding much too cocky.
She tried to be angry, but she was too relaxed and content, so she settled for grumbling at him, "You might have warned me."
"Takes all the fun out of it," he said happily as he nuzzled her throat. His voice sounded stronger already and she turned to look at him and appraise his condition.
"You sound stronger."
"I am stronger. Your blood is quite an elixir," he said as he pulled her over on top of him. "Did you know it's also an aphrodisiac?" he asked, pressing his erection in to her thigh and ghosting his lips across hers.
"It is?" she murmured as she stuck her tongue out to lick his lower lip. She noticed that her weight didn't seem to be causing him any pain and concluded that the ribs must have healed already. She opened her legs slightly and pressed the bulge in his jeans between her thighs.
He groaned and ran his hands up her back and under her shirt. This time, when he slipped his hand into the waistband of her pants, she raised herself up a little so that he could unfasten and push them down. Remembering what he'd wanted the night before, she moved her own hand down to the waistband of his jeans and tried to unbutton them by herself.
Spike pulled her up his body with one arm so that he could take a nipple in his mouth and suck on it through the thin cloth of her shirt. At the same time, he used his other hand to help her unfasten his jeans and allow his cock to burst free. His grateful groan when Buffy's hand finally encircled him and began stroking gently was enough to flood her underwear with moisture.
Suddenly she didn't want to be trying to work around clothing and she sat up. Her abrupt withdrawal from him caused him to whimper, and he narrowed his eyes in fear and suspicion. The thought that she might be rejecting him again made his stomach clench into a knot.
That expression of fear was replaced by one of open lust and delight when she pulled her shirt and bra off, tossing them over the side. She rolled away from him long enough to kick off her shoes and push her pants the rest of the way down. Beside her, he was vigorously kicked his own jeans onto the floor.
When she turned back and saw him staring at her in awe, she was suddenly shy and tried to turn away and hide from his burning eyes. Spike was having none of that, however, and he turned her face back to look at him so that she could watch him run his eyes down her body and back up to meet hers.
"You are beautiful, love," he said as he ran his hand down her flank. "Don't ever hide yourself from me. This is how you were meant to be seen."
Buffy had no idea how to respond to such heartfelt, but flowery praise, so she hid her embarrassment by running her own eyes over the rapidly healing body beside her. She'd always known Spike was muscular, and she'd seen enough of him without his duster on to know that he had a nice body, but the alabaster Greek statue lying beside her was enough to take her breath away. She ran her eyes down his chiseled chest and abs, past the visible hip bones and down his well-muscled legs. When she brought her gaze back up his body she stopped when she got to the thick column bobbing up and down against his flat abdomen.
She remembered at some point during the beating kicking or hitting him in the vicinity of his groin. Suddenly she was very grateful that she hadn't damaged any important parts.
When she leaned over and planted a light kiss on the tip, his surprised hiss and involuntary thrust of his hips brought a purely feminine smile to her face. She followed the kiss with a quick flick of her tongue across the head of his cock and smiled again when he groaned. He had become completely immobile – waiting, she knew, to see what she would do next.
Spike was afraid to move or even to breathe. For once he was very glad that he didn't have to. Buffy's face was still near his throbbing cock and he could feel her warm breath on him as she leaned closer. Terrified that any sudden movement on his part would distract her from what she was obviously thinking, he remained frozen while she again ran her tongue around the tip of his cock.
He bit back the words that threatened to spill out of his mouth, but couldn't control the sounds he made when she finally reached out and took him completely in her hot mouth. As her head began to bob up and down with inexpert, but enthusiastic sucking and licking, he rewarded her with a string of inarticulate sounds as well as muttered obscenities.
"Uhn...oh, baby. So hot...so good...oh fuck! Buffy...mmmmmm. Bloody—argh! Oh, yes...yes..."
Exerting every ounce of will power he had, Spike grabbed her head and stilled it while he breathed in and out slowly in an attempt to gain control of himself.
"What's the matter?" she asked him anxiously. "Was I hurting you?"
"No, love," he smiled as he pulled her up and kissed her mouth. "You weren't hurting me. It felt good. A little too good. Not ready for this to be over yet, that's all."
Buffy frowned in confusion for a second, then caught his meaning and blushed all over. "Oh...oh!"
"Yeah, oh," he said softly as he ran his lips down her throat, pausing to suck gently on his mark there.
The light pressure on his bite mark sent a jolt through her body and she gasped and clenched her fingers around his biceps. She felt him smile against her throat as he murmured softly, "Your turn now, love."
Before she could ask what he meant, he had rolled them over so that he was on top and he was kissing his way down her body. He paused at each breast to lick and suckle at the nipple, making her arch up into his mouth, moaning and whimpering. His hand in the meantime was seeking out the moisture between her legs and spreading it around her inner and outer lips as he stroked her gently until she was thrusting her hips up into his hand.
Rather than give her the pressure she was seeking, he took his hand away, causing her to whimper in need.
"Shhh, love, not gonna leave you like that," he whispered as he ran his mouth down over her ribs and across her toned stomach. "Gonna make it good for you."
Ignoring the way she was trying to push her hips up toward him, he bypassed the soft curls at the bottom of her abdomen and continued his kisses down onto the inside of her thighs.
Buffy was sure she was going to pass out from desire as he continued to tease her with kisses and licks everywhere but where she wanted them. When her whimpers began to sound more like sobs, he took pity on her and swiftly ran his tongue up from her opening to her clit. He licked the area thoroughly for a few seconds until he could sense the frustration building in her body. He then took her aching nub into his mouth and began sucking rhythmically on it, even as he also worked it with his tongue.
She gave a sigh of relief, that was quickly followed by rapid panting as his talented lips and tongue built the pressure back up until she was screaming and arching her back off the stone slab as she shuddered into an orgasm.
By the time she was back down, he had crawled up her body and was smirking at her with satisfaction. She wanted to be angry at him for looking so self-satisfied, but all she could manage was a weak, "Shut up."
"Didn't say anything, pet, " he murmured as he licked and sucked on her earlobe.
"You were thinking it," she muttered as she found her hands running up and down the smooth skin on his back. His body was lying on top of hers and she could feel his cock nudging between her splayed legs. She shifted her hips slightly to put him right at her opening and heard him growl softly.
He raised his head and she saw that all humor had fled from his face. In its place was an overwhelming need and another emotion she didn't want to examine too closely. All cockiness was gone as he pleaded with his eyes.
"Got to do it now, love. Please? Let me in, Buffy. Let me in."
"Come in, William," she breathed into his mouth. "Be inside me."
With another groan, he slid into her, taking it slowly to allow her to get used to his size. Before he was even fully inside, he was whispering in her ear, sounding nothing like the cocky, working class vampire she knew.
"My love, my goddess, you feel so good to me. So warm. So tight. So strong. Want to stay here forever. Never leave you, my love. Will love you forever. Tell me I can stay here, love. Want to stay inside you, feel your heat, feel your body under me."
Buffy didn't know what to reply, or even if he was actually expecting a reply. She was too wrapped up in how it felt to have him buried within her, filling her completely and making her feel things no one, not even Angel had.
She felt herself clenching around him as he began a gentle rocking motion with his hips. She moved with him, gasping when he moved his hips around until he found a bundle of nerves she hadn't known were there. When he could tell from her response that he'd found the spot he was looking for, he began to move faster, touching that spot with every thrust.
Her nails raked down his back as she brought her feet up and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in ever closer as she ground against him. All thought fled and she was not aware of anything except the sensations being created by the man now pounding into her.
She quickly felt herself building toward another orgasm and bit into him where his neck ran into his shoulder in an effort to keep from screaming again. As soon as her teeth touched his skin she felt him shift and suddenly it was the demon growling and pounding as he pushed her over the edge and into another consciousness shattering orgasm.
Before she could relax from it, she felt his teeth slide into her neck again and she was immediately propelled into another one as more waves of pleasure swept through her body. While she was quivering beneath him, the vampire came to his own shaking climax, pulling her blood into his mouth and growling, "mine" as he spilled into her.
While they lay still, breathing rapidly in complete sync, he whispered again as he licked the wound closed, "Mine. You are mine."
Buffy could do nothing but nod her head numbly and lie like a limp rag, while he continued to lick her neck and murmur endearments to her. Every time his tongue slid across the rapidly healing marks on her neck, a thrill went down her spine and she shivered slightly.
After several minutes of recuperation, Spike got off the sarcophagus and went to rummage around in a corner. He came back with a down comforter, which he folded in half and slid under Buffy's now-aching body. The cushy feathers felt wonderful after the beating her body had taken on the stone slab and she murmured her appreciation. He added a couple of pillows, kissing her mouth as he placed one under her head, and then got back up beside her and pulled another quilt over them.
Buffy snuggled into his side and let her eyes drift closed as she muttered, "We didn't slay anything tonight. I'll get fired."
She felt him shake gently with laughter as he pulled her closer and promised, "We'll kill twice as many tomorrow night, love."
"Promise?" she asked as she began to fall asleep. "Do you promise me?"
"Promise you the world, my love, if you want it. All you have to do is ask."
" 'K," she answered as she fell into a dreamless and restful sleep for the first time in weeks.
"All the world," he murmured into her hair as he curved himself around her warm body. "All the world."