Criteria: angst or romance (tried to do both) S/B, smut, bite/claim
Word count – 10,157
Rating – NC17
Season VI – no spoilers, it’s all made up (although the characters all belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy)
“You like my teeth on you, don’t you, Slayer?” His voice rumbled in her ear as he nipped at the delicate skin on her throat. “Makes you all tingly; makes your heart race. You want me to bite you.”
“No,” she gasped, even as she turned her head to give him better access to her neck. “Never.”
“Never’s a long time, luv. A long, long time. It’s gonna happen some day...some day these teeth will be the real thing, and you’ll be begging me to bite you...”
He stopped talking as he felt her begin to tremble around him and he entered that small slice of time and space where Buffy was all his, clenching him within her body, screaming his name as she shuddered with the force of the powerful orgasm HE gave her. Not Angel, not that corn-fed soldier boy. HIM. Spike. William the Bloody.
With his own smothered roar, he allowed himself the release he’d been putting off all night while he had been bringing her to ecstasy over and over, taking her in so many different ways that she’d stopped asking him what he was doing, but just acquiesced to every command. Allowing the vampire to bend and mold her limber body in whatever positions suited him. Something about being so subservient to something so evil stirred her in ways she didn’t want to explore.
And yet, here they were, at the end of the night’s debauched activities, face to face in the missionary position, vampire on top shooting his dead sperm against the entrance to her womb while she wrapped her arms and legs around him in a mockery of a loving embrace. A loving embrace that he knew would end the instant she regained control and realized what she was doing.
While he had the chance, he brushed a light kiss across her swollen lips, murmuring silently the “I love you,” he knew better than to allow out. He could do whatever he wanted with her body. Bruise it, cut it, pound it into the hard concrete floor of the crypt, but tenderness was not allowed. Never allowed. Not if he wanted to continue to feel those brief moments of possession.
He felt her stiffen under him as she came back into herself and noticed how she was clinging to him. Her arms and legs dropped, but before she could use them to push him away, he sighed and rolled off, careful to remain far enough away that any accidental touch could not be construed as a caress.
“Ow!” she hissed as she tried to sit up. “Look what you did to me.”
He turned his head slightly to look at the bruise she was complaining about. The man in him was screaming to be allowed out to apologize and kiss away the pain of their violent coupling, but he pushed the urge away and just raised an eyebrow at her.
“I’ve got more than you do, pet,” he growled instead. “Can’t believe you never put the toy soldier in the hospital, the way you use that Slayer strength to—”
“I never did things like that with Riley!” Her indignation and horror as genuine as her shamed knowledge that she would have liked to – now that she knew how much the violence and pain turned her on.
“So, it’s just for me then?” He stretched his arms over his head, deliberately showing off not just his well-muscled, tight body, but also the cuts and bruises she’d inflicted on it during the course of the evening. He heard her heart rate speed up and he smiled.
Slayer’s not quite through playing yet, then. I’m going to have to dig deep into my box of tricks to keep her interested now.
Buffy’s eyes were riveted on the tooth marks she’d left around his nipples. She watched them harden under her gaze and felt the blood rushing back to her sore and swollen crotch. She saw the vampire’s eyes darken with desire, as his cock stirred back to life.
Before he could decide what he wanted to make her do next, he found himself pinned to the floor, Buffy’s panting breaths warm in his ear. The feral look on her face made him instantly hard and his own unnecessary breaths came hard and fast. She ran her tongue down his neck, sucking for a second on the place where his pulse would have been pounding if it could.
She slid down his body, ignoring his groan as her wet sex slid over his cock and down until she was sitting on his thighs. Leaning forward, she licked at her tooth marks, sucking on his flat nipples until they were as red as if he’d had actual warm blood flowing through his veins. She moved her mouth down his body, stopping to lick everywhere she’d left a mark. At one particularly nasty looking bite, she almost kissed the torn flesh when she finished laving it – only catching herself at the last second, pulling back quickly.
Spike watched her curiously. He would have sworn she was about to kiss the place where she’d torn his skin with her teeth. Even though the idea of her kissing anything on his body that wasn’t directly related to making him hard was ludicrous, he couldn’t help the jolt of warmth that went through him.
Stupid git. Like she’d ever touch you for any reason than sex. Probably goes home and brushes her teeth, tongue and lips before she gets in the shower and washes me off. This must kill her – the way her body responds to me. The things I can make her do. The way I make her feel.
While he was chiding himself for reading more into her actions than he should, the slayer was still licking her way down his body, halting only when she got to his now-swollen cock. She ran her tongue up the side of it, stopping at the end to swirl it around the head before taking his foreskin gently in her front teeth and pulling it to the side.
The vampire’s surprised hiss and the involuntary arch of his hips made her smile around the belled head.
“So, it seems you like my teeth on you too,” she purred, nipping lightly down the thick length of him, then taking his balls into her hot mouth. She swirled them around, using her tongue to caress them while she rubbed her blunt teeth against the base of his sac. They were both very conscious of the fact that one hard bite and he would find out exactly how well vampires could heal and regenerate body parts.
Buffy pulled on him until his groans of pleasure had turned to gasps of fear, then slowly released her mouthful. Spike’s sigh of combined relief and disappointment brought her head up briefly to smile at him before she went back to her main focus. Using her blunt little human teeth, she began nipping her way up and down his blood filled cock. As the nips became harder and more like real bites and the vampire’s hisses louder, she began following them up with licks of her tongue that gradually turned into open mouthed, wet kisses.
Spike’s hands were fisted in the rumpled sheets that had been pushed off the sarcophagus much earlier in the evening. His hips were involuntarily moving in response to the heat of her mouth, which was now covering his cock completely and moving slowly up and down on him to the accompaniment of his groans and muttered curses. When the mutters changed to whispered endearments and his hands began stroking her silky hair, she bit him hard and looked up with a glare.
“I didn’t say you could move or talk,” she said sternly. “Am I going to have to tie you up?”
The vampire hadn’t thought his cock could get any harder, but when she said that, he felt like it might burst.
“Might have to do that, pet,” he managed to gasp out, his hands still in her hair.
Buffy sat up and looked around the crypt, spotting the handcuffs he’d wanted to use on her earlier. She stood up, her legs straddled him as she stared around the room; his eyes were riveted on the moist curls between her legs. Suddenly his view was gone as she marched across the room and picked up the handcuffs and a length of rope. She hurried back and quickly fastened his willing hands together, using the rope to keep them stretched out over his head as she tied it to a pole in the center of the room. She carefully set the key down within easy reach before moving back where he could see her.
“Do I need to gag you, or will you be quiet?” she asked, cocking her head at him.
Spike rapidly shook his head “no” and then “”yes”, using his teeth to press his lips together to show her how he was going to keep them closed. She peered at him suspiciously for a second; then nodded.
“Okay, I’ll believe you, but if you’re not good...”
His eyes pledged his anticipated perfect behavior even as he wondered what she would do to him if he wasn’t good and if he would enjoy finding out.
“Now no talking, no touching, and no moving unless I tell you to. No sounds at all. Is that clear?”
He nodded vigorously, anxious to get her mind back on what she’d been doing before and determined to do whatever he needed to keep her happy.
She raked her eyes up and down his stretched out body, admiring the lean muscle of his torso and the more substantial bulge of his biceps as he unconsciously pulled against the rope holding his arms up. Satisfied with her restraints, Buffy stepped back over him, deliberately standing where he could look at her open legs again for a second before turning around and sinking back down. She positioned herself with her back to him, her damp sex rested on his lower chest as she went back to tormenting him with nibbling bites of his penis.
She bit and licked her way around his cock, always pausing to kiss softly anytime she bit hard enough to actually hurt him. When she once again used her teeth to pull his foreskin away, she accidentally bit hard enough to draw blood and she sent an apologetic look over her shoulder before kissing it multiple times in an attempt to make it up to the silent vampire. She felt him shudder when she used her tongue to lick the blood off, before planting another lingering kiss on the rapidly healing spot.
Deciding she’d been working on one place long enough, and that he’d been quiet enough to earn a reward, she took the belled head in her mouth and slowly moved it back until it was touching the back of her throat. Her position, as she conquered her gag reflex and forced his cock into her throat, left him nothing to look at but her smooth ass cheeks and open, glistening quim.
Spike was sure he was asleep and dreaming. Sure that Buffy had long since gone home and he was enjoying a particularly real fantasy as he lay on his cold sarcophagus by himself. The little sounds she was making as she massaged his cock with her throat muscles sounded to him like the sweetest music.
He felt his balls tighten as her hot, muscular throat continued to caress him until he couldn’t prevent a shuddering release or the awed, “Buffy!” that accompanied it. She continued to swallow around him, milking every last drop out of his now limp and relaxed cock.
She finally released him, sitting up and turning around to face him, her lips swollen from her efforts and her eyes looking strangely satisfied. He knew his own eyes were gazing back at her with the adoration that he usually tried to hide, but he managed not to make it worse by saying the things he wanted to tell her.
How can she not care about me? Why would she do something like that if she didn’t...no, she doesn’t. She’s made that clear so many times. I don’t know what she’s trying to tell me with that performance, but it can’t be what I want it to be.
Buffy looked away from the hard-to-miss devotion in the beautiful blue eyes staring back at her and tried not to be affected by what she saw there. In spite of how obvious it was that this particular vampire was more than capable of loving both fiercely and devotedly, she persisted in pretending that he did not and she continued to refuse to let him vocalize his feelings while they were in bed.
There was something very frightening to her about the thought of allowing him to tell her he loved her while they were intimately connected. As though she instinctively knew that hearing the words while the vampire was inside her would make them too real. She refused to even consider the idea that she might find herself lured into responding to them.
“You spoke,” she accused, anxious to put an end to the look on his face.
He shrugged apologetically and smothered the jolt of joy he felt when she put her hands on her hips and said, “I’ll have to punish you now.” He nodded slowly, wondering what sort of pain she was planning to inflict on him and if she had any idea how arousing that thought was to him. Her next actions left him confused and scrambling frantically to figure out what was going on.
“I’m sorry, “ she whispered softly as she leaned down toward his face, “but you have to be punished...”
Instead of the painful bite he was anticipating, she put her lips against his and kissed him tenderly. She planted soft, gentle, loving kisses all over his mouth, across his jaw and down the side of his neck. She sucked softly on the velvety skin of his throat, bringing the borrowed blood to the surface and leaving a deep red mark there.
“I think I know why they call those ‘love bites’,” she said almost to herself as she studied the mark. Moving to the other side of his neck, she did the same thing on that side, murmuring softly, “Now you’re marked as mine, Spike. I’ve claimed you for everybody to see. You like that, don’t you?”
Not sure he was permitted to speak yet, he nodded cautiously. It occurred to him that it was a little cruel of her to ask such a question when she knew the answer was that he would like nothing more than to have her acknowledge him as hers.
“But,” she said brightly, sitting up, “They’re going to fade. By the time I leave here they’ll be almost gone and no one will ever know I marked you as mine. Too bad.”
Pain flashed across his face at the callousness of her words. It was one thing to refuse to talk about how he felt about her - something else entirely to mock it. Was this to be his “punishment”? To have his love and desire for her dismissed as a joke?
“Oh, poor Spike,” she purred. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’m so sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you.”
She leaned back down and began planting light kisses all over his face. She kissed his eyebrows, lingering over the scar on the left one and kissing it over and over. She kissed his closed eyelids, the tip of his nose, the top of his sharp cheekbones, the line of his jaw and finally, his tightly compressed lips.
“Don’t you like this, Spike? Don’t you want me kissing you? I can do it as long as you don’t look at me or speak. You can pretend I love you and that I’m doing this because I want to and not to punish you.”
She gently ran her tongue around his lips, teasing the tip between them until with a groan he gave in and parted them, opening his mouth to her. Her tongue continued to run around his lips, now softly touching the inside, now running along his gum line and probing the indentations where his fangs were hidden. She felt him tense as her warm tongue gently stroked his gums and the roof of his mouth. When she dipped it into the cavity in which his fang was stored and deliberately cut herself on the sharp tip, he groaned involuntarily. The taste of her powerful blood on his tongue almost made him pass out.
“There you go again, making noises. And after I told you to be quiet. I guess I’ll have to show you I really mean it.”
Spike wasn’t even paying attention to what she was saying, his senses still overwhelmed by the effects of the several drops of blood she’d allowed him to suck off her tongue before she withdrew it. It wasn’t until she started whispering in his ear, that he realized she was still punishing him in her own way.
“You see, William, this is how it would be if I loved you. I would be kissing you, and cuddling with you after we made love. And you would hold me and tell me you loved me and I would be all ‘I love you too, Spike’.”
She suited her actions to her words, once again kissing his willing mouth tenderly and curling her warm body up against his. She nuzzled his neck, breathing in the scents that said “Spike” to her, not even aware that she knew what he smelled like, let alone that she liked it enough to deliberately inhale it. She remained curled into his side for several minutes, enjoying the feeling of resting against him. She found herself briefly wishing she’d unfastened the handcuffs so that he could put his arms around her and hold her.
Her hand was caressing his face while she kissed his shoulders and neck and he leaned into it, pressing his cheek against her warm palm and kissing it softly. His movement startled her out of the uncomfortably pleasant feeling that her mock tenderness had stirred and she suddenly slipped back from him in a panic.
What am I doing? I’m cuddling with Spike! This isn’t punishment for him. He likes it. He’s going to think I...-no can’t let him think that. Have to do something before he gets the wrong idea. Because it IS the wrong idea. Totally wrong. I don’t want to be doing these things with him. I was just confused for a minute.”
In a slightly shaky voice, she quickly said, “B-But I don’t love you! I could never love you, so I’ll never do those things with you. You and I will never have that kind of...of...relationship, because we don’t. Have a relationship, I mean. There is no us. There’s just you – evil vampire, and me – the Slayer and I would never love you like that. And that’s your punishment!” she finished triumphantly.
She waited for him to acknowledge how well she had played their little game, frowning slightly when he didn’t say anything. His eyes were squeezed shut, but she could see a tear slide out of one corner and down the side of his face. She shuddered under a wave of nausea as she went back over her actions and realized exactly how much she was “punishing” this vampire who loved her so much he hadn’t tried to make her stop, even as she was breaking his heart.
“Sp...Spike?” she said softly as she reached for the key and unlocked the handcuffs. “Spike, I’m...I’m sorry...I—”
He brought his arms down to a more comfortable position, but carefully kept them away from her. She smothered the disappointment that he hadn’t immediately put them around her still-close body. Her leg was still thrown over his thigh where she’d put it when she began her cuddle and she started to put her head back on his chest.
“Get off me.” His eyes were still closed, his voice hard and colder than she’d ever heard it. She didn’t move, just stared at him with stricken eyes.
“Get the fuck off!” His eyes flew open and she couldn’t look away from them. How could something be so icy cold and so fiercely hot at the same time? There was blazing anger, yes, but behind the anger was a cold, hard killer that she had just hurt in ways she couldn’t even imagine.
Except that she could imagine. The reality of what she’d done sank in and she began to shake. Trembling, she lifted her leg off his thigh and shifted away from his body. Her own eyes filled with tears as he rolled over, turning his back to her.
“Get out,” he said quietly. “Get out, Slayer, and don’t come back.”
His angry snarl interrupted her attempted apology and she was reminded that she was sitting naked and stakeless beside a master vampire whose chip did not recognize her as human. She stood up slowly, still trembling, and began to gather her clothes. His back remained facing her. There was no movement from the vampire, not even the light breathing he often did unconsciously.
She put on her clothes, glancing occasionally to see if he had turned around, but there was no sound, no attempt to look at her. She opened her mouth to try once more to apologize, but closed it again without comment. She turned and walked slowly toward the door of the crypt, hoping he would call her back or at least turn around and yell at her. Anything to indicate that he was aware of her existence.
However, she opened the door and walked out without hearing a sound from the vampire. She closed it quietly, letting the tears slide down her face as she walked back toward Revello Drive.
Weeks went by and Buffy saw nothing of Spike. She avoided Restfield on her nightly patrols, knowing he would keep it clear of newly risen fledglings, but she couldn’t help hoping she would run into him somewhere during her rounds.
She didn’t see him, though. Nor did her slayer senses ever give her the slightest trace of his signature. A signature that she would recognize anywhere, any time. Finally, after several weeks, Anya asked casually one night, “Where has Spike been, Buffy? No one has seen him.”
Dawn turned to Buffy and demanded, “What did you do to him? He never comes by the house anymore. If I didn’t go to the crypt after school, I’d nev—” The teenager stopped, realizing she’d just given out way too much information about her afternoon activities.
To her surprise, her sister didn’t yell at her for going by Spike’s, just asked quietly, “Is he all right?”
“Of course he’s all right,” Dawn huffed. “He just said he doesn’t want to be around you anymore. Any of you,” she added, waving her hand in the air to include the Scoobies. “He has made new friends and he’s spending time with them. I told him he could bring them around too, but he just laughed. I think he’s worried we wouldn’t be nice to Emma, with her being half demon and all. And Clem is...” Dawn happily babbled on, oblivious to the stricken look on her sister’s face.
“We don’t need to meet the bloodsucker’s friends, Dawn,” Xander said firmly. “If he’s gotten over his ridiculous obsession with your sister and moved on, then that’s fine with me.” He turned to look at the quiet Slayer, “I guess you finally convinced him it was never gonna happen between you two, huh, Buff?”
“Yeah,” she responded softly, “I think you could say that.”
“Well, good for you!” he boomed happily, not noticing the looks exchanged between the other women in the room.
“Yes, good for me. I’ve got to go now. Will you bring Dawn home, please Xander?” Without another word, Buffy leapt to her feet and bolted out the door, running with no destination but escape. Lack of oxygen finally slowed her down and found herself in a part of Sunnydale she hadn’t even known existed. Her Slayer senses were going off and she looked hard at the people going in and out of the shops and buildings. With a gasp, she realized most of them were demons of one sort or another.
She saw two just like Clem, and several others that appeared harmless, if not human. Just as she turned to find her way home, the door of a club burst open and a laughing group came out, led by the wrinkly demon himself. Close behind were several obviously female demons and one very pretty woman with pointy ears and a long tail trailing behind her short skirt. Holding the door for the woman, who looked back at him and smiled gratefully, was a well-built blond man who smiled back at her as he let it shut behind him.
Buffy ducked behind a car the instant she recognized Spike. She watched the little group clearly saying good night and splitting up to go in different directions. Her vision blurred with tears as she watched the small woman walk off with Spike’s hand on her elbow as he guided her to his old Desoto and held the door for her. Long after the street was empty, she continued to crouch behind the car, clutching her stomach and gasping for air.
She made no attempt to analyze what she was feeling. She wasn’t stupid. Buffy recognized jealously when it hit her in the solar plexus, she just didn’t seem to be able to overcome the physical effects well enough to stand up straight. After long minutes of trying to smother both the emotional and the physical pain, she forced herself to her feet. Clenching her fists at her sides, she put her chin up and began trudging home.
If anyone noticed Buffy’s bitchier-than-usual behavior and attitude over the next few weeks, they didn’t mention it. She didn’t hang around her friends or sister any more than she absolutely had to, instead staying in her room playing Sarah MacLachlan CD’s and refusing to go out except to patrol. The vampire population of Sunnydale had never been smaller. The Slayer was taking her job very seriously, and she didn’t go home at night until she had dusted every undead creature she could find.
Dawn was so used to not seeing much of Buffy that it was well into the afternoon when she suddenly realized that she hadn’t seen her sister for two days. She went into Buffy’s room and found that the bed had not been slept in and there was no sign that Buffy had been there recently.
Fear seized her throat and she ran to the only person she could think of to help her. Bursting into Spike’s crypt without knocking, she was already in frightened tears when the startled vampire looked up from his book.
“Dawn! What’s wrong, Bit? Stop crying, love, and tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s Buffy,” she hiccupped, regaining control of herself. “I haven’t seen her in two days. She hasn’t slept in her bed and I’m such a bad sister, I didn’t even notice until just now. My sister is missing and I didn’t even notice!” She started crying again and the vampire sighed and pulled her close, rubbing her back soothingly.
“Stop it now, Bit. You’re not a bad sister. Buffy stays out all night sometimes. You know that.” He cringed mentally, wondering if his insistence that Buffy stay the night occasionally had ever caused this kind of panic in her little sister.
“She’s always home by daylight. And she always stays awake until I leave for school so I know she’s all right. She hasn’t been home at all. Not yesterday, not last night, and not today. Spike, I’m scared.” Her big blue eyes fastened on his pleadingly. “I know you’re mad at her about something. That you don’t... don’t love her anymore, but, please, will you help me find her? Please?”
“Where’d you get the idea I don’t love your sis anymore? Mad at her, yeah. Wouldn’t deny it if I could, but I don’t stop loving that easily, Niblet. That’s like saying I wouldn’t love you any more just cause I caught you going through my personal things.” He stroked her silky hair softly, smiling to himself at her guilty start.
“She thinks you don’t,” she muttered. “She told Xander you didn’t. I heard her.”
“Stupid bint,” he growled under his breath.
“And you’ve got a girlfriend,” she added sternly. “I’ve met her!”
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Dawn,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Emma is a nice bird, but she’s just keeping me company so I don’t get myself into too much trouble when I go out drinkin’. She’s doing it as a favor to Clem. He’s her cousin and he asked her to help him keep me from gettin’ myself dusted.”
Dawn pulled back from him and asked softly, “So, you’ll help me find her, then?”
“I’d help you find her even if I didn’t love her, Bit. You have to know that. I don’t suppose you have any idea where she was last?”
Dawn shook her head. “No, she goes out slaying by herself and comes home and shuts herself in her room and plays stupid music. She never says where she’s going. But you can find her, can’t you?” she asked anxiously.
“I’ll find her, pet. Now you hustle home before dark, just in case she comes back.”
“Ok. Thanks, Spike.” She turned to go out the door, then stopped with her hand on it. “I’m glad you still love Buffy,” she said without looking at him. “I think she misses you.”
The door closed behind her and Spike began pacing the floor impatiently, muttering to himself. “Stupid, stupid bint. Going out alone. She could have at least taken the whelp with her.”
Deciding he couldn’t wait for the sun to go down, Spike dropped down to the lower level and headed off through the sewers, stopping occasionally to sniff the air for any trace of the Slayer. He’d tried to be confident for Dawn, but now that she wasn’t around, he allowed the worry to surface.
Finding Buffy – he refused to consider the thought that he might be looking for Buffy’s body – was not going to be easy. He started with the logical places, popping up as close as he could get to the local cemeteries and sniffing the air for any sign of her. As soon as the sun was below the horizon, he came up and began to cover ground quickly and systematically. When he found no trace of her in any of the graveyards, he stopped by Willie’s to see if she’d been there or if anyone had seen her.
With a sneer, a drunken Cherola demon told him his “slayer girlfriend” was chasing a vamp gang into an alley the last time he saw her. He laughed about the Slayer’s venture into the warehouse district. “Maybe she’s decided to change her luck,” he leered, just before Spike pulled his head off and rolled it across the floor.
He ignored Willie’s protests about the mess on his floor and bolted out the door, heading for the industrial part of Sunnydale. He prowled up and down the streets and alleys, seeking any trace of Buffy and trying to smother his growing fear. Telling himself there was no way she was killed by an ordinary vamp, he continued his frantic search, jumping up to peer in windows and bending to look into basements.
Suddenly, the faintest trace of a scent came to him and he vamped out, the better to follow it, snarling when he found blood droplets leading down an alley and into a ruined building. His stomach clenched when he recognized the building into which they led.
“Oh, Buffy, love, what have you done?”
Throwing caution away, he burst through the open door and looked around desperately. The first thing he noticed was the complete absence of a floor. The building had crumbled even more since the night he and the Slayer had begun its destruction with their violent foreplay. A small ledge around the edge of room was all that was left to stand on.
He entered slowly, edging around the room until he was sure there was nothing and no one there. He became very still and listened for a full minute until he heard the very faintest of heartbeats.
Following his ears, he dropped carefully into the debris-filled basement and quickly looked around. He didn’t see Buffy, but he could still hear the very faint heartbeat. It seemed to be coming from a pile of broken wall supports in the center of the room and he approached cautiously, not wanting to cause any more to fall.
When he determined that the heartbeat was coming from under the pile, as was the scent of Buffy’s blood, he abandoned caution and began flinging pieces of wood off as fast as he could, talking to her the whole time.
“Hang on there, love. I’m coming. Don’t you die on us again, you hear me? Can’t leave the Bit alone, pet. She’s worried about you. Don’t know what the hell you were doing here. Bloody stupid, if you ask me. ‘Bout as stupid as thinking I don’t love you anymore. Could never stop loving you, Buffy. Don’t you know me better than that? Come on, Slayer. Say something. Give me a sign. Tell me you’re alright. Bloody stupid woman...”
“If I was all right, I wouldn’t be here, you moron,” came the faint whisper from under a large beam.
Spike felt tears prickling his eyes when he heard her strained voice coming from under the beam. He quickly moved everything else off her, until all that was left was the heavy beam lying across her upper body and effectively pinning her shoulders and arms in such a way that even if she hadn’t lost a lot of blood, she wouldn’t have been able to get enough leverage to push it off.
Her face was covered with dirt and dust, blood was crusted above one eye and her hair was gray with drywall dust. Her eyes were barely focusing as she struggled to maintain consciousness.
“Hi, Cutie,” he said softly, gently pushing her hair out of her face.
“You found me,” she whispered through cracked lips.
“I did,” he agreed as he examined the beam for the best handhold. Buffy didn’t speak again and her heartbeat slowed and became even fainter as she struggled for breath. With a frightened roar, the vampire picked up the entire beam and threw it across the room.
While the remaining building creaked and moved around them, he scooped her up and ran to the last staircase just in time to watch it come crashing down. Using his supernatural strength in ways he rarely did, he bent his knees and jumped up onto the tiny ledge of the doorway. Without swaying or struggling for balance, he jumped out the door and sprinted up the alley, getting safely away before the entire building fell in on itself.
He didn’t slow when he left the alley, but continued to run, holding her light body against his chest and heading straight for Sunnydale Hospital’s busy emergency room.
Two hours later, when he was finally allowed into the ICU for five minutes, he crouched beside her bed, afraid to touch her for all the tubes and wires. He thought she was asleep, but her lids fluttered and he was soon looking into her tear-filled eyes.
“I thought I was going to die. Again,” she said softly.
“Not on my watch, pet,” he growled back. “Not going through that again. You die; I dust. Promise or no promise, the Bit will have to deal.”
“Does that mean you still love me?”
He wanted to snort with derision at the stupid question, but the fear in her eyes told him she was serious.
“How could you think I didn’t? Bloody hell, Buffy, you think I could stop loving you just like that?”
“But you were so mad at me...”
“Yes, I was. Still am, truth be told. Wished to hell I could stop loving you. Life would be much less painful. But I can’t, Buffy. God help us both, I can’t.”
The nurse put her head in and told him his time was up. He stood up.
“I’ll go tell the Bit where you are. You make good use of that yummy O pos they’re pourin’ into you and get that Slayer healing going,” he said, leaning in for a second as if to touch her, then shaking himself and backing away.
“Thank you. For saving me.”
“Anything else just wasn’t an option.” He walked out without looking back.
By the weekend, Buffy was not only out of the hospital, but almost completely healed and anxious to resume slaying. She was disappointed that Spike hadn’t come by the house in the evenings to see how she was doing, but Dawn assured her he asked about her every day.
“Buffy, he just really doesn’t want to be here where everybody calls him evil and disgusting. I don’t blame him. He has a good time when he’s with Clem and his new friends.”
Buffy clenched her teeth to keep herself from snapping at her sister. Even though Dawn had found a way to work it into the conversation that Emma was not a girlfriend, Buffy still didn’t like the idea of Spike spending so much time in the company of the cute little demon.
She asked Dawn to give Spike a letter for her, making sure it was sealed tightly and threatening her with grounding until she was fifty if she tried to peek. The teenager rolled her eyes and stuffed it in her backpack, promising to drop it off at Spike’s crypt on her way home from school.
When she came home late in the afternoon, Buffy was waiting for her in the living room.
“Well?” she demanded. “What did he say?”
“Sheesh!” Dawn tossed her head. “Why don’t you guys get cell phones? Here.” She tossed the envelope back, indicating the folded paper inside.
Buffy took it out carefully, turning her back to run her eyes over his reply. When she finished reading, her eyes lit up and she ran upstairs to dress. Dawn shook her head and went into the kitchen talking to herself.
“Why didn’t she just ask me to tell him she wanted to go to the Bronze tonight?”
When Spike’s old Desoto pulled into the driveway that night, Buffy was waiting in the living room wearing the tenth outfit she’d put on and rejected before finding one that suited her. She was wearing a light, floral skirt that floated around her knees and strappy sandals with high heels. Her top was a long halter that tied in the back and at her neck. It was clearly not something to be worn with a bra.
She stood up uncertainly when the vampire knocked on the front door instead of coming right in as he usually did. Rolling her eyes at her sister, Dawn flounced past her and opened the door. Spike entered hesitantly, his eyes immediately going to Buffy, his vampire senses picking up on her nervousness.
“Hi yourself.” That part of the conversation exhausted, they stood staring at each other like two thirteen year olds on their first date. “You look beautiful, pet,” he finally broke the silence.
“So do you,” she said softly, blushing at her words but meaning every one of them. Instead of his usual black tee shirt, the vampire was wearing a blue button-down dress shirt the same shade as his eyes. He did, indeed, look beautiful with his long lashes, defined cheekbones and kissable mouth.
“Have fun,” Dawn said, practically shoving them out the door. She closed it behind them and went up to her room mumbling to herself about adult stupidity.
If Spike hadn’t been so unsure of what Buffy was up to, he would have laughed aloud at the look on Xander’s face when he walked in with Buffy’s fingers linked tightly with his own. When her friend frowned and started to open his mouth, she held up an imperious hand and said, “Not one word, Xander. Not one damn word.”
When Spike came back from the bar with a drink for her and a beer for himself, she stood up and waited for him to sit down before seating herself on his lap. It was a toss-up who was more surprised – Xander or Spike. Both nearly spit their drinks out when she leaned back and rested her head on his shoulder. Only Buffy’s warning glare and Anya’s constant pinching kept the dark-haired boy from saying something that could get him in trouble.
“So, what’s this about, then, pet?” Spike whispered into her ear. “Not that I’m complainin’, but...”
She looked up at him, suddenly uncertain of her actions.
“You don’t want me here? Don’t you like it?” She started to slide off his lap, her face reddening in embarrassment.
“Didn’t say that, love,” he responded quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Just want to know what’s going on, that’s all. Not really up for another round of ‘Buffy pretends to love Spike’.” The bitterness in his voice was palpable.
Seized by guilt and regret, she slid off his lap onto a chair, blinking back the tears that threatened to fill her eyes.
“I wasn’t pretending,” she whispered, almost to herself, looking down into her drink. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be hap-“
“Say that again.” His voice contained just enough painful hope to soften the commanding tone.
“I said I wasn’t pretending,” she said clearly, raising her wet eyes to his and letting him see, for the first time, the truth of what she was saying. “I...I’ll understand if you don’t believe me or don’t wa—”
“Let’s go.” He stood up quickly, taking her hand and nodding his good-night to Anya and Xander’s puzzled faces. He pulled Buffy toward the door, ignoring the fact that she was wearing high heels and struggling to keep up with him.
When they were outside and away from the crowd waiting at the door, she planted her feet stubbornly and said, “I’m not going another step until you tell me what you’re doing. And, hello? High heels here! Sooo not made for running.”
He scooped her up and began striding toward his car, coat billowing behind him as he covered the ground in long steps that were perilously close to leaps. When he reached the car he put her down, holding her elbow carefully until she had her balance.
“What was that all about? I thought we were going out for the night.”
“We’re not having that conversation in a public place. Certainly not in front of the whelp and demon-girl.”
“What conversation?” she muttered, still angry about being dragged out of the club.
“WHAT conversation? Bloody hell, woman. Did you hear what you said in there?”
He was glaring at her, taking deep, fast and totally unnecessary breaths as she shuffled her feet and studied the side of the car intently.
“Did you know you have a scratch here?” She ran her finger along the side of the large, black car trying to pretend she didn’t know how agitated he was. The feral snarl at her back soon disabused her of that notion. She turned reluctantly to face the enraged vampire.
“Buffy” he growled, clenching his fists. “So help me, Slayer. You are this close...”
“What do you want me to say, Spike?” She glared back at him. “I gave you as much as I can right now. We went out in public together on what was obviously a date. There were PDAs. In front of Xander, no less. Do you want me to hold up a sign – ‘Buffy and Spike are together’?”
“You said you weren’t pretending to love me,” he said quietly. “Did you mean it?”
“Yes...no...I don’t know.”
“Well that clears things up nicely.”
“Look, when I...did what I did and realized I had hurt you...again...” She looked up guiltily. “I didn’t know what to do. You wouldn’t look at me, or talk to me. I thought I’d finally pushed you away and it...it scared the hell out of me. And then when Dawn said you had a girlfriend, and I saw you with—”
“You saw me?”
She nodded. “I was running and I ended up in....never mind. I saw you and I thought I was going to die. Right there, on the street in the middle of a demon neighborhood, the Slayer was going to die from jealousy.” She glanced up at his frowning face with eyes brimming with tears. “You would have gotten your third Slayer; even if you never knew how it happened.”
“You look surprisingly good for a dead slayer,” he commented without any inflection.
“Well, I didn’t die, obviously. But I wanted to. I was so sure I had lost you. That you weren’t mine anymore. And it hurt. More than I would have thought possible. But, is that because I love you or just because I think you’re my property? I don’t know, Spike. I just don’t know what I feel. I know I want you to be mine, I just don’t...”
“You just don’t know if you want to be mine,” he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets.
Tears stood in her eyes again.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I want to be fair to you, but the idea of not having you in my life...”
He stepped closer to her and oblivious to the other patrons leaving their cars to join the line into the club, he put his hands on both sides of her face and looked into her eyes.
“You will never not have me in your life, Buffy. Not unless you dust me. We might not be together, but I’ll be there somewhere, watching over you and the Bit. I am yours, pet. For always and forever. You don’t have to force yourself to feel something you don’t really feel…” He shut his eyes briefly until he had his voice under control. “...just to keep me around. I’ll never leave you, Buffy. Never.”
With a shuddering breath, she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head against his chest. He put his arms around her shoulders and buried his face in her hair. Buffy relaxed for the first time since she’d left his crypt so many weeks ago, content for the moment just to be held by the vampire who loved her.
When the third person to yell, “Get a room!” had scurried inside after Spike flashed his fangs at him, Buffy gave a little laugh and pulled away from the comfort of his embrace.
“If he thinks we need a room now, it’s a good thing he never saw us actually—”
“Come on, love. Let’s get out of here.”
He opened the driver’s side door and waited for her to get in and scoot across the seat before he sat down and started the engine. “Where to, Slayer?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to be pushy, but it’s been a long time since we...”
“Tell me about it,” he growled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the reminder. “My place it is, then.” He pulled the big car out of the lot and headed toward Restfield cemetery.
After parking the car in the caretaker’s garage, they walked together toward his crypt. Buffy’s steps were getting slower and slower until she finally stopped just short of the door.
“What’s the matter, love?” He tried to keep the fear out of his voice when he saw her second thoughts. “We don’t have to shag if you don’t want to. I jus’ want to spend some time with you.”
“I do want to,” she said, her lower lip going out in a small pout. “I just don’t want it to be like it was. I don’t want to go back to the hitting and—”
He stepped closer and tilted her face up to his, capturing her lips and pressing his tongue against them until she sighed and let it in to caress her own. When his kiss had had its usual effect on her, he moved his mouth up to her ear and whispered, “Do me a favor, love?”
He leaned back and looked directly into her puzzled eyes. “Let me make love to you. Let me love you the way I want to. Just for tonight. Let me pretend you’re mine like I’m yours.”
Force of habit sent a bolt of fear through her body at the danger of letting him do what he was asking, but one look at the way his face was shutting down as he felt her recoil, and she leaped to reassure him.
“I...I think I’d like that,” she breathed.
Spike took her hand and walked her the rest of the way to the door, holding it for her and then pulling it tightly shut behind him. He left her standing by the door while he quickly lit some candles, taking one of them in his hand and leading her to the ladder to the downstairs.
He jumped down first and set the candle down, turning to hold up his arms for her. She lightly stepped off the floor and dropped into his waiting arms, completely confident that he would catch her. He left her standing at the bottom of the ladder while he carefully lit several more candles around the bed and turned the rumpled sheets down.
Instead of coming back to her as she expected, he sat down and took off his boots, setting them carefully to one side before standing up and walking toward the puzzled Slayer. Taking her hand, he led her slowly to the bed and sat her down on the edge.
He knelt at her feet and gently unbuckled her sandals, slipping them off her feet one at a time and placing them with his boots. He massaged each foot briefly and kissed her toes before putting them back on the floor and standing up again. He moved away again, going to a cupboard she’d never noticed before and taking out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He poured the wine and carried the glasses back to the bed, handing one to her and sitting down beside her.
He lifted his glass and lightly touched it against hers, asking, “Will you trust me, love?”
She nodded slowly, raising her glass to her lips and taking a small sip, holding his eyes as she did so. They drank slowly, never taking their eyes off each other, until Buffy’s glass was empty. Spike took the glass from her, setting it on the bedside table beside the bottle.
Moving tentatively, as though expecting her to stop him any minute, he ran his hand lightly up her arm until he could place it behind her head. He pulled her face toward his, resting his lips on hers and moving them gently in a warm, but chaste kiss. Not until he felt her heart rate go up did he deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to tease her lips until she opened them. Their tongues joined in a silent dance. They stroked and swirled, advanced and retreated.
Buffy knew Spike was an excellent kisser. She’d known that since Willow’s unfortunate spell two years before; but never had his kisses moved her the way this one did. Along with the undeniably incredible technique was a tenderness and a barely controlled desire that sent her blood racing and moisture pooling in the thong she’d worn under the thin skirt.
He did nothing but kiss her until she was moaning and breathing heavily. She’d promised him he could make love to her, but she thought if he didn’t get on with the program soon she was going to have to break her promise and tackle him to the bed. As though he’d read her mind, he began to untie the halter top, letting it drop into her lap when he’d released both strings.
His head dropped down and his lips fastened around one rosy nipple while one hand cupped the other breast reverently. Buffy’s head went back as the sucking sensation on her nipple made itself felt all the way down to her womb. She leaned backwards and Spike gently lowered her to the bed, never taking his mouth off her breast as he eased her down.
She put her hands in his soft curls and held his head to her breast, wondering if it was possible to come just from having your nipple sucked into a reddened peak. With a soft “plop”, he let go of it and moved back up to her mouth, stroking his tongue over and around inside it while his hand roamed her body, teasing and touching all the bare skin he could find.
His gentle hands slid over the soft skin of her torso, stroking and caressing her until she wanted to scream at him. She couldn’t scream, though, because her mouth was otherwise occupied with his talented lips and tongue. Her whimpers of need made him smile into the kiss and she bit his lip in retaliation.
“Patience, love,” he breathed in her ear before he took the lobe in his blunt human teeth and tugged on it lightly. “You promised me I could do this my way for once.”
“Your way is taking too long.” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout, knowing it would bring his focus back where she wanted it.
He sucked the lower lip into his mouth, while one hand dipped under her skirt and ran up the inside of her warm thigh. She sucked her breath in with a little gasp as he brushed his fingers lightly across her mound before running them down the other thigh to her knee.
Pushing her skirt up to her waist, he lowered his head to her knee and kissed a path up her inner thigh, lightly touching his tongue to her sodden underwear before kissing his way down the other leg. As he worked his way up and down her legs, he murmured his appreciation of her warm, soft skin and the scent of her arousal.
When her hips were actually going through the motions of intercourse and her whimpers had reached a painful crescendo, he relented and, using his teeth to rip off her thong, he nudged her clit with his nose. He inhaled the heady aroma of her arousal, licking up the juices he found there.
“Love the way you taste, Buffy. So wet for me, so warm and tight. Like warm honey you are. Could stay here forever.”
He sucked her clit into his mouth and began to massage it with his tongue while he sucked on it. Within a few seconds, her hips were arching up off the bed toward his mouth and she was gasping his name as she shattered around him. Before she had stopped trembling with the after effects, he had slipped her skirt off and was nuzzling the soft skin on her stomach, purring into it.
Buffy reached weakly for his shirt, trying to unbutton it or pull it over his head.
“More Spike skin,” she muttered, ripping the buttons off in her urgency. “Need to feel you, now!” she growled, tugging at his zipper.
He rolled to the side and quickly slid his jeans off while she finished ripping his shirt from his smoothly muscled chest. As soon as he was as naked as she, he rolled back over and covered her slim, muscular body with his own.
“So warm, so smooth and strong, my little Slayer. My Buffy. My love.”
The joy of being allowed to whisper all the things he’d wanted to tell her for so long was so great he thought he could happily spend the rest of the night just kissing her and whispering endearments in her ear.
“I love you, Buffy,” he rumbled. “Love you so bloody much.”
He held an unnecessary breath, waiting to see what her reaction would be to the words he was not allowed to say aloud, but she just wrapped her legs around his and pulled his hips closer to her still moving pelvis. The feel of her warm body writhing under him was more than his control could take and he allowed his cock to nudge at her entrance.
“Let me in, Buffy. Invite me in, love. I need you.”
“I need you, too,” she astonished him by admitting. “I need you in me right now. Come in, Spike. Be in me. Love me, William. Love me”
With a sound that was half sob and half shout of joy, he slid into her with one hard thrust, pausing when he was fully seated to allow her to adjust to him as he basked in the sensation of once again being surrounded by his slayer.
Buffy’s arms went around him and she brought her legs up to wrap around his hips, moving in complete tandem with his slow, deep thrusts. Just as she had so many weeks ago, she took the skin of his neck in her mouth and sucked hard on it until she knew she’d made another mark. This time, she used her blunt little teeth to pinch the skin hard as she breathed, “Mine.”
“Yours,” he agreed, fighting down his demon as it tried to respond to the bite and the words. “Always yours.”
“Mine,” she repeated. “You are mine.”
Their movements came harder and faster and the tension built up until Buffy was quivering on the edge and clutching him to her while she rubbed her clit against him and clenched her internal muscles around his swollen length. With a scream, she threw her head to one side, exposing her neck to his lips and teeth.
“God, Buffy...” he groaned, fighting for control when everything in him was straining to reach the silky skin with the rich blood pulsing just below the surface.
“Do it,” she said urgently. “Make me yours, Spike. I want to belong to you.”
Without any conscious effort on his part, his fangs dropped and he slid them into her delicate skin, careful not to tear. The taste of her blood on his tongue was all it took to send him spiraling into an endless release. As his hips pumped his cool semen into her depths, his mouth was taking deep draughts of the elixir that flowed in her veins.
The feeling of her blood being pulled into his mouth as he emptied himself into her sent Buffy shuddering with the waves of sensation racking her body. For long minutes they clung together, shaking with the physical and emotional response to the connections being established.
“Mine,” Spike growled, licking the wounds before she bled too much.
“Yours,” she agreed breathlessly. “I’m yours.”
He rolled off to the side, pulling her with him so that she was lying against him, her arm and leg across his body and her head resting on his shoulder. Unlike the last time they’d been in that position, this time his arms were securely around her while she snuggled into him.
He planted a light kiss on the top of her head as she nuzzled his throat and sighed contentedly. Deep purrs were emanating from his chest, the vibrations spreading throughout Buffy’s body and relaxing it even more.
“Mmmmm,” she mumbled. “Like that. Feels like a massage chair, only, you know, cuddlier.”
He chuckled, squeezing her gently as he leaned down to lick his marks, sending a bolt of electricity straight to her womb. “You know, Slayer—”
“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘I told you so’, I am sooo going to stake you.”
He tipped her face up so that he could look at her as he asked, “How about, I love you? You alright with those words?”
“I think I could get used to them,” she whispered back, never taking her eyes off his. “I might even be able to get used to saying them.”
“I’ve got time, love. I’ve got plenty of time.”