Chapter One



A faint tickle on the back of her neck had her turning with a slight frown.



There he was, standing motionless beside one of the many fire trucks, his fathomless dark eyes focused on her. They simply stood there, looking at each other; her eyes begging him desperately not to go, his casually indifferent to her pain.



Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, more to keep herself from reaching out to him in need than for any warmth. Firemen scurried to and fro between them and plumes of smoke shifted like an eerie fog. With a quick, decisive move, Angel stepped back, slowly pivoted on his heel, and walked away without a backward glance.



She refused to cry. She wouldn’t beg. If she had nothing else left, she had her pride. That would be enough to get her home so that she could break down in private. She forced herself to watch him go, to watch him fade away into the smoke and disappear from her life.



After taking a few minutes to get herself under some sort of control, she turned to join her friends and Watcher. Before she could take a step, a thick cloth soaked with chloroform was slammed over her face. While she fought valiantly, the fumes were too strong for her and she slumped unconscious into the arms that waited for her.



In the blink of an eye, she was gone.



~*~*~



It was the music that woke her, finally. Sid Vicious at ear splitting levels was so not the best way to regain consciousness. Her head was pounding and she could barely breathe with her face mashed against the upholstery beneath her.



Upholstery… Okay first clue, Buffy. You’re in a car. She forced her eyes open only to be met with darkness. Blindfolded, then. When she bit down she could taste something really nasty on the gag between her teeth. Hoping she wasn’t attracting the attention of her anonymous captor, she wriggled her hands and feet. Whoa, girl. Don’t panic. You can bust these ropes, no problemo. Yay for slayer strength!



Only she couldn’t. No matter how much she flipped and flopped, it was no use. When she finally quit squirming she was on her back and panting like a winded horse, her helpless arms pinned beneath her. Must be some kind of magically enhanced rope. How cliché, she huffed. In a fit of anger, she drew up her bound feet and kicked out with all her might. She felt the rush of air as the back door on the driver’s side blasted completely off its hinges.



Whoever was driving roared in anger and slammed on the brakes, pitching her forward to land in a painful, bruised lump on the floorboard. It smelled even worse down here. The car skidded to a halt and Sid was blessedly cut off mid-scream. She heard the driver’s door open and the measured crunch of feet on gravel. Heavy footsteps. A man.



Buffy could feel it now. That little tickle she always felt when there was a vampire in the vicinity, only this was no tickle. This was a maddening itch that made her want to jump out of her skin. She drew her feet up again, eagerly making use of the only weapon at her disposal. Come on, vampy-boy. Just a liiiittle closer. Buffy just wants to kick your fucking head off! Here boy!



Snarling behind the gag, she lashed out; only to have her attempt foiled as her lower legs were grabbed and restrained beneath a powerful arm. Equally strong fingers fisted around the waistband of her jeans and she screamed around the gag as she was dragged from the floorboard and out of the car. Dropping her legs, his free hand found her throat and bent her sharply backwards over the trunk. He held her there, his fingers unbearably tight around her neck while his lower body pinned hers against cold metal.



Desperate to free herself, she thrashed and bucked against him, but at this angle and with her legs effectively immobilized, it did her no good. He simply held her down until she wore herself out and lay limp and breathless beneath him. Shifting just the slightest bit, he pressed into her. Buffy froze when she felt the rigid column of flesh grind into her cleft, more from her body’s reaction than from the act itself.



Oh, no WAY this was happening! Fighting the incipient arousal, she renewed her struggles to get away but only succeeded in driving him harder against her clit. The cool hand gripping her throat loosened, fingers splaying wide as they slid over her collarbone and pushed aside her blouse to trail tauntingly over the lace cups of her bra. With a vicious jerk that wrung a muffled shout of surprise from her, he ripped her shirt open. She heard the faint ting of the buttons hitting the car before he leaned over her and bit thru the front clasp of her bra.



Buffy laid there, chest heaving, breasts vulnerable and exposed to the chill night air. Tears of frustration soaked the edges of her blindfold and she thrashed her head back and forth in denial as she felt the rough pads of his fingers circle the pert nub of her nipple. The hand that still held her by the waist of her low-slung jeans unfurled, and the tips of those long fingers worming under the tight denim just brushed her damp curls.



She moaned, cursing her traitorous body as she tried to squirm away from him. This was so, so wrong, but she couldn’t stop the insidious tickle of arousal that swept through her. She hadn’t been touched by anyone but herself since that fateful night with Angel, and the hands that held her in thrall seemed to know just where she liked to be touched.



He quickened his thrusts against her, breathing his own excitement into the tender flesh of her throat. Why is he breathing at all? she wondered irreverently. Angel hadn’t; she remembered that much.



The sweet tension continued to build down low in her pelvis and she knew that no matter how much she fought it- fought him-he was going to get her off. Thought became deed as she felt the first waves of pleasure crash over her and she screamed into the gag.



Body arched taut, she rode it out, mindlessly thrusting her lower body against his. Buffy didn’t even feel the shifting features of the face pressed against her neck, but she felt the bite. Oh, yeah, she felt it. And it wasn’t pain that made her scream again.



He clamped down hard, sucking down greedy mouthfuls of her blood. Each tug of his mouth set off another orgasm, each more intense than the last. Slamming into her one last time, he collapsed against her with a harsh groan of repletion.



She wasn’t sure if the weakness in her limbs was from the orgasm or the blood loss, but she lay quietly under his weight and waited patiently for the world to right itself on its axis. Only the pain of her imprisoned arms forced her to finally nudge him into moving off of her.



A low, sinful sounding chuckle rumbled forth, mocking her efforts, but he shifted to the side so he wasn’t crushing her. Buffy frowned. There was something familiar about that smug little laugh…



The vampire reached behind her head and worked the gag loose. When he peeled it away she tried to speak, to hurl insults and promises of the direst retribution, but only managed a croaky squeak.



An impatient hand ripped away the blindfold, making her cry out when more than a few strands of silky blonde hair went with it. Blinking rapidly to clear her vision, she lifted her head to get a look at her captor. Her eyes widened and she let loose with a frustrated screech when she saw who had been holding her down and grinding his dick into her crotch.



“Hello, cutie.”

TBC

Chapter Two

Buffy blinked. It looked like Spike. It sounded like Spike. Had even felt like Spike—though she refused to dwell on that short moment when she’d pressed her lower half against his lower half across her mother’s kitchen bench. Not that she needed to dwell on it when she had the action replay in all its icky glory pressed up against her crotch.

Oh God, it was Spike, and he’d gotten her off when she didn’t even know who it was. Not that she cared. Not that knowing that it was Spike would have altered the experience or made her more willing or gahhhhh! Stop mouth, go back and be more with the screaming bloody murder.

“What the hell are you doing, you freak?” So she risked having that filthy scrap of crap shoved back between her teeth, but God, what was he thinking?

The desperate squalling pitch of her voice didn’t seem to have any impact. Spike was smiling for all he was worth and it was really creeping Buffy out. Okay, making with the struggling and jerking, and if she could grit her teeth against Spike’s laughter, she so would. Before she was able to do anything that passed for progress in getting herself free, Spike was hauling her up and leaving her ass squished against the metal of his hunk of junk.

“Keep your scrawny ass here or I’ll not be responsible for my actions.” Spike grinned again and then loped off into the dark up the road, Buffy staring after him like dazed hit-and-run victim. She so totally missed the side dish of menace that should have been served up with that threat, but Buffy was never one to look opportunity in the teeth, mouth, horse, oh whatever…and she slid down the metal and attempted to start jumping away from the beat up car.

Unfortunately her series of orgasms had addled her brain and before she got too far, she worked out that she’d merely jumped in the direction the car had been heading. Spike rolled to a stop beside her, leering at her breasts as they bounced up and down in their unbound and uncovered state. Buffy came to a dejected halt and Spike pulled on the screeching brake.

“You’re a right frustrating bint, you know that?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, refusing to look at the picture of satisfied manhood lit by the internal car light. Spike slid across the hood of his car and came to a bouncy stop in front of Buffy, his hands instantly cupping a breast in each as he squeezed playfully. Buffy whimpered and couldn’t stop the tears that were a result of her betraying nipples as they hardened without permission to his touch.

“Told you I wouldn’t be bloody responsible if you buggered off. Now, got a bit of a situation with your shirt.” Before Buffy could open her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do with his issues, he’d unhooked the back of her bra and ripped the shoulder straps till the garment fell from her frame. Buffy just stared in horror as his nimble fingers tied her buttonless top between her breasts before pushing her into the passenger seat of the car. She fell in, her bundled arms and legs awkwardly splaying her across the bench seat. Spike gave her ass a slap and then moved back to the driver’s side, almost falling behind the wheel before reaching over to sit Buffy up and then pull the door closed.

“Got the other door sitting on the backseat—“ and she was positive he just growled at her over a piece of tin, “or I’d have you stretched out back there. Now, mind yourself or I’ll put the gag back in.”

Buffy stared, stunned, for what seemed like hours to her rattled psyche, and then turned her lashing tongue on the still grinning freak of nature.

“Take me home. Right now,” she said through gritted teeth.

“No can do, little buckaroo.”

That smile was so going to be wiped off his too gorgeous face if he didn’t lose it soon. It incensed her beyond reason, beyond Xander’s Twinkie breath, beyond Willow’s…

“What the hell are you so chirpy about? Considering your dusty end is imminent, I’d think you’d be rushing to get away from me.” Buffy withered under his bark of laughter, finding the curl of fear in her gut embarrassing. How could she be afraid now after he’d gotten her off in almost fluent succession?

A leather clad arm reached across in front of her, brushing up against her unfettered breasts as he dived into his glovebox, retrieving a flask and tipping it enthusiastically to his lips.

“Let’s drink to it then, yeah?” He offered the foul smelling alcohol to Buffy and chuckled at her predictable ‘ewwww’ before replenishing his own empty mouthful.

“An’ you sure you can’t guess what’s put me in such a chipper mood? Why, pet, thought you were the brains of the bunch. Got into college, didn’ you?”

Buffy’s startled expression was all the confirmation he needed, and he almost rumbled with happiness as a hand snaked over and rubbed her denim-covered leg.

“Stop that,” she screamed, her body beginning a jerking motion that did nothing really but alter the path of his hand and push it closer to her sopping crotch. The insistent rubbing did little to calm her down.

“Get your filthy evil hands off me.”

Spike actually had the nerve to pout, taking his attention off the road as he watched her with desire darkened eyes. “Make me.” And then there was his tongue, clamped between his teeth as he grinned some more.

Oh, he was going to die. As soon as she managed to trick him into letting her go.

And wasn’t that enough to make reality slam back with a kickback that hurt? Damn magical rope, damn evil vampires…and, she couldn’t hold back the sniff…damn cowardly souled vampires that thought they knew what was best for her without actually asking her first. Because having orgasms on the hood of her enemy’s car—while said enemy was shredding her clothes and being the one to get her off—so wasn’t what was best for her by a long shot.

Buffy had had enough and, drawing her knees up in a misleading attempt at comfort, she slammed her booted feet down and destroyed the ancient tape deck in one satisfying crunch. Spike’s foot almost made a hole in the floor as he braked to a fishtailing stop. He grabbed Buffy around the neck and shoved her back against the seat, his body tense as he put his weight against her.

“Leave my bloody car the fuck alone, you crazy bint.” The fury fought against his obviously inebriated plan and before Buffy could accept the fact he was going to drain her here and dump her body out on the side of the road, he was kissing the breath from her body in a gulping frenzy. The force altered to hungry nibbles until with a shock, Buffy yanked back and gasped.

“You bit me!” She could still feel the wetness of her flesh as a little blood slipped from the tiny wound.

Spike cackled and looked at her affectionately. “Vampire, luv. Be hard pressed finding one that wouldn’t.” And had the nerve to dive in for another peck before straightening up and putting the car back in gear.

Buffy looked sideways at her captor then at the smashed stereo and groaned. This entire situation was too surreal for her to grasp and she couldn’t help but feel completely dumbfounded. Buffy shuddered.

“Spike, what are you doing?” She sat uncomfortably forward, her hands bunched painfully behind her back while she stared at his profile. He didn’t even slip from the jovial countenance that was setting her on edge. He turned and grinned, reaching over to gently squeeze her knee, and then went back to watching the road.

“While to the rest of us it would be obvious, I’ll let you in on the plan. I’ve kidnapped you and I’m gonna feed you to Dru. If she doesn’t take me back after that, I’ll bloody finish with her for good.”

Buffy’s eyes goggled as she noted every smiling muscle in Spike’s face. “You aren’t serious!”

The satisfaction and confidence faltered for just a minute and Buffy marvelled at how ridiculous this whole situation was.

“As a bloody Angelus avoiding soul curses. Why?”

Buffy spluttered in disgust. “Because your girlfriend is a hobiscuit. Why on earth would you want someone back who cheats on you?”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that the only answer she got was a slight flinch and pedal to the metal. Buffy could only pray to god that if he slammed on the brakes again, or if they crashed, that slayer healing would keep her alive, because this farce of a kidnapping sure as hell wouldn’t.

Before Spike was through, she was certain she’d be as loopy as Dru.

Chapter Three

"I've gotta pee," Buffy finally blurted out after wriggling and squeezing her thighs together for the past half hour.

Spike made a face but kept his eyes on the road. He’d been moodily quiet since she’d cast her aspersions on Drusilla’s fidelity. Buffy wasn’t sure which was worse; the insanely cheerful prattling or the little boy pout that did such interesting things to that full bottom lip.

Her eyes lingered on said lower lip, and in spite of her full bladder, she felt something stir and slither around in her lower belly. Her reaction had her whipping her head back to face the front and slamming her eyes closed.

“Spike…” she ground out through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, yeah! I’ll stop at the next quickie mart.” He shot her an assessing look. “Unless you’d rather just go along the side of the road.”

She was practically snarling by now. “I can wait long enough to find a real bathroom,” she assured him coldly.

The raging silence between them was made all the more obvious by the desecrated radio. Spike kept casting resentful glances between the smashed console and her. Buffy was ready to call him on it when he whipped the car without warning into the brightly lit parking lot of a twenty-four hour convenience store. She was practically bouncing as she waited for him to exit his side and come around to let her out.

“Uhh…Spike? Kind of limited with my hands here, so you wanna come let me out?”

“Something I gotta do first, luv,” he said calmly. Before she could blink, he had her off the seat and sitting sideways on his lap.

“Spike! Cut it out, I really, really have to go, dammit!” Buffy protested, trying not to notice exactly what she was sitting on. “What the hell are you doing?”

He took his time replying, an unreadable expression on his face as he pushed her hair back over her shoulders and bared her neck. His thumb circled lazily over the scab from his earlier bite and he smirked when she shuddered involuntarily in response. Hmm. Slayer had a fang fetish. Why was he not surprised?

“Need to make sure you don’t get any stupid ideas, pet. Like maybe trying to run or doing something to draw attention to us.” His features shifted, bringing his demon to the fore to clarify his point.

Buffy jerked away, fighting against his iron grip on her upper arms. He wouldn’t! “If you think you’re gonna use me as some sort o-of chew toy, you better think again, buster!” she shrilled.

Spike laughed in her face. “And you’re going to stop me…how, exactly?” He leaned forward and trailed a cool tongue over the heated flesh of her throat, savoring the light sheen of her sweat like a connoisseur of the finest wines.

“Spike, don’t you dare…” Her warning was cut off by a yip of pain as he sank his fangs into the same marks that had quite effectively obliterated those of Angel and The Master.

It amused him that every bit of fight went out of her the second his teeth slid into her fragrant flesh. She wilted against him; soft, kittenish whimpers clawing from her throat as he took long, leisurely pulls of her sweet nectar. Spike took his time, careful to take only enough to weaken her.

She moaned in protest as he lifted his head and laved the twin punctures closed with his tongue. Her eyes drifted open to meet his and she had to struggle to focus on his smugly smiling face.

“What… What did you do?” Buffy demanded. She felt more than a little woozy and a strange lassitude weighed her extremities.

“Just took a little off the top, luv. Makes for a more biddable Buffy, at least physically.” He pushed her back into her seat and lifted her feet into his lap to undo the bindings. “Not that it has any effect on that large-sized mouth of yours. I don’t have to tell you what’ll happen if you scream for help, do I?”

Buffy scowled at him and shook her head. She lacked the strength to even get to her feet when he came around to open the door for her and was forced to accept his help out of the car. She swayed along beside him as he led her over to the bathrooms, realizing that he had probably picked this place for the outside access to the facilities. The parking lot was deserted at this time of night, so there was no one to hear her even if she did try to draw attention to them. He had her right where he wanted her and it infuriated her.

He ignored her very loud and indignant protests as he followed her inside, laughing at the look on her face as she hopped up and down in front of the stall.

“Come on, Spike, this isn’t funny! Untie my hands right the fuck now so I can go!”

“Nope. C’mere and I’ll undo your pants and pull ‘em down for you.” He moved to stand between her and the single stall, arms folded across his chest and not giving an inch in spite of her pleading looks.

Seething, she stood before him and glared into his smirking face the whole time he worked at the front of her jeans. She flinched as his cool fingers slipped under the edge of her panties and drew them and her pants down to her knees. Shouldering past him with her nose in the air, she nudged the door closed and quickly sat down.

Nothing.

Buffy wanted to cry with frustration. In spite of her now painfully brimming bladder, the presence of the annoying vampire inhibited her from letting go.

“Well?” Spike prodded. “Let’s go, slayer. Time’s a-wastin’.”

Her face was so red by now she was sure her skin was bubbling. “I- I can’t.”

“Say what?”

“I can’t go, dammit!” she exploded. “You’re standing there and you’ll hear me and I can’t go!”

Spike gawked at the closed door. “You’re having me on, right?” When a pained sob was his only answer, he rolled his eyes and stomped over to the sink. With a vicious twist he cranked both faucets on full blast. “That help with your delicate sensibilities, your highness?” he shouted over the rush of water.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” She heard him laughing at her blissful moan, but Buffy was past caring. It was such a huge relief that she couldn’t hold it in.

When she was done she was faced with yet another dilemma, but she’d cut out her tongue before she’s ask the bleached menace to wipe her ass. It took some doing- and thank God for slayer flexibility!- but she managed to bring her hands around enough to pull off some toilet paper and then contort herself into a back bend to get the job done. Feeling rather smug, she stood up and called for Spike.

“All done?” he asked with forced patience as he held the door open for her to hobble out.

She didn’t deign to answer, simply stood there with her eyes fixed on the far wall while he dragged her panties and jeans back up her legs and fastened them. He huffed impatiently when she insisted on washing her hands, but helped her none the less

Back in the car, Spike wasted no time in getting them back on the road. Dawn was fast approaching and he wanted to find a cheap motel so he could get some sleep.

With no radio to distract him and the slayer pointedly ignoring him, his thoughts turned to Drusilla. He wondered if she had missed him yet. Probably not, he thought bitterly. Faithless bint was no doubt being shagged stupid by her slimy new lover in Spike’s own bed!

He’d get her back, though. His plan was simple. Feed her the slayer and it would prove to her once and for all that he wasn’t ‘covered’ in the sanctimonious little bitch. Bloody brilliant plan, he congratulated himself, casting a glance at the Slayer’s flawless profile.

So why did he feel a twinge of unease at the thought of his lover sinking her fangs into the slayers oh-so-bitable neck?

TBC

Chapter Four


“This really isn’t necessary,” Buffy seethed, wriggling like a big worm against the ropes that had her mummified and pretty much immobile on the tacky hotel bed.

Spike launched himself at the empty space beside her and made her bounce, chuckling at her sweating efforts to get free. “Not takin’ any chances, luv. Might be snookered, might be a little lacking in the planning part of this escapade, but I’m not completely stupid.”

“Oh, I don’t agree with that for even one second. You are totally completely stupid. I mean, come on. You kidnapped a slayer, Spike. You are so going down; it’s just a matter of how far those dust particles will have to float.” Buffy gave up the struggle and let her body go limp, all the fight momentarily gone on vacation against the obviously enchanted ropes. “Where’d you get these ropes anyway?”

Spike rolled to his side, watching her with hooded eyes. “That’d be telling.” He pecked her fast on the lips, tucked a hand around her roped in waist, and fell promptly into a dead sleep.

Buffy wanted to belt him. She wanted to scream bloody murder and stake him with Mr. Pointy and dance in his ashes. She wanted to tie him up like a pig-on-a-spit and offer him up to feed…well, no one actually, because that was just way too gross. Though parts of him were entirely too lickable, and that clash of the lips he probably would call a kiss was maybe not so bad, in a really disgusting ‘how-dare-a-demon-kiss-me’ way. But she refused to think of that, not when he had her defenceless and on a road trip from hell so he could feed her to his insane ex.

God, it was kinda sad that Spike was turning out to be one of these guys that just couldn’t let go. If Drusilla was making with the nasty and Spike was repulsed by the types of demons she enticed into her bed, then where the hell was his self respect? She thought he’d been so strong—not many master vampires would have had the inner steel to bide their time in a wheelchair while the love of his life was off doing the nasty with someone he hated. And YES, Buffy couldn’t bear to say his name just yet! She’d always thought he was so worthy of respect as an opponent, as an enemy, yet his ability to fall apart at rejection from women screamed of weakness. He should be throwing Buffy at Dru to dust her, not to have the wacko vamp drain her dead.

Nope, it wasn’t on. Besides, he was too plastered to be thinking clearly. She just had to talk him sober and she was sure she could convince him he was making a monumental mistake. And if that didn’t work, she could always slay his ears off with her acerbic tongue.

“Spike, wake up.”

He didn’t move. Buffy pulled back her bound lower half and aimed a forceful nudgy kind of kick that somehow made full contact with his…

“Bloody hell, couldn’t you aim a little lower?” Spike growled painfully, rolling back and forth cupping his crotch. “If you wanted some attention you seriously off kilter chit, you could have enticed me better than that. Might have to eat you now so you know not to do it again,” he wheezed, his eyelids squeezed tight even as a few bitter tears slipped through. “You know what? You’re driving me up the bleeding wall with your destructo kicks. You’ll completely bust all my bits if you don’t knock it off.”

Ooh, busting Spike bits. Now there was an image that gave her warm shivers. Buffy plastered on her most fake smile and licked her lips. Then stopped, her face falling as she had absolutely no clue what she’d planned to do. No way was she going to flirt with Spike, of all vampires, just to go free. It all seemed so hopeless, and despite the being all tied up, she’d sort of forgotten just how dangerous Spike was. Those bites where he drained just enough of her blood to make her malleable regularly slipped her mind too. The more sensitive parts of her body warred with the sections of her brain that still made sense. Spike was evil, bad news and he was going to kill her. That was inevitably his plan, and despite all the hot kissy and grinding, he wasn’t above getting his own jollies while on the way to achieving it. Still, gotta take satisfaction for making any guy cry over the mashing of his privates.

Spike lay back on the bed, eyes closed and knees drawn up as his hands cupped his swollen manhood. He was ignoring her and these ropes were itchy and Buffy felt so tired. The sniffles came unawares and just made Buffy feel even more miserable. God, who did she offend to have to go through this crap on such a regular basis? And when was Spike going to start acting like a decent vampire and punish her in the way most others would? By killing her and adding the glory of the event to stories that made his fierce reputation.

Just as the sobs were about to burst from her throat, a loud rumble of voices—in some language that Buffy was positive didn’t exist in any human world—indicated a possible brawl right outside their door. Buffy looked down at her ropes, still wound as tight as they were when she was first dumped on the bed, and rolled her eyes impatiently. Spike’s moans of pain had begun to recede and he seemed to be falling abruptly back toward sleep.

Then a shuddering thump against the door had him sitting up and snarling. “Bugger off. A vamps got a right to sleep, you pillocks.”

Just as his head regained the snoozy side of the pillow, the door exploded off its hinges and some kind of giant rock-like barged through, taking the wood frame with him and looking extremely comical with the incomplete rectangle dangling from his head and shoulders.

It bared its teeth at a relatively unconcerned Spike and Buffy realised the idiot was too drunk to notice the danger. That or his ego had swelled out of all proportions.

“Get the bloody fuck outa my room, mate. Paid for it an’ all. Bloke deserves his rest after his car’s been bashed in royally.”

The grey looking thing merely bared its teeth and roared in Spike’s direction before tossing the doorframe to the corner and stumbling awkwardly over to the bed. Buffy’s eyes widened as she saw the calculating look it gave her and the ropes that made her anyone’s bitch. Spike was really going to be vampire flambé when she got done with him.

“No way,” she screamed as the thing swatted at Spike and its big granite-like arms sent him flying to the side to leave a rather large and crumbly dent in the wall. Spike just moaned as Buffy was plucked from the bed like a slayer-filled burrito. This moronic beast better not be thinking she looked tasty. Spike was so going to pay for this.

Buffy felt the air whiz passed her face as she was tossed over the demon’s bulky shoulders, her hip bruising painfully as the bone rubbed against the seemingly stone-like body. The lack of hero to the rescue—because thanks to Spike and his idiot plans keeping her all tied up with apparently somewhere to go—she was in dire need of one pretty soon.

“Spike, get your ass up here now and—“ She hit the floor hard as a white Spike-shaped blurr catapulted Mr. Stoney through the wall, ten inches right of the desecrated door way. “Crap. You know Management will make us pay for that, don’t you?”

Spike stared at her incredulous, his face all grazed and blood pouring down his cheek from a cut below his eye.

“Not bloody relevant right now, luv.” He spat blood on his opponent’s chest, his face being way too high for Spike’s shorter frame to reach without doing a very girly jump first. With a rousing roar, Spike launched himself again at the demon and began to punch it hard. The thing barely grunted before it slammed its fist down on Spike’s head like a club, almost smashing his skull in but definitely crushing a few vertebrae.

Spike swayed dizzily, turned around in a circle, giggled and finally fell face first into the floor. Buffy whimpered, knowing she had no chance of getting the useless idiot to help her now. He’d already been three sheets to the wind when they’d pulled up at the hotel. Now with a major concussion and the rising sun, she knew she had no hope.

Buffy had no concept of how she did it, but somehow she struggled upright. Strangely enough she’d managed to push the bed so far against the opposite wall in her effort to stand that the bathroom was fully blocked off. Jumping on the spot like a demented kangaroo, Buffy released a banshee wail before springing onto the very tired mattress and launched herself without warning at a surprised Boulder demon, her legs swinging with all the speed and power of an enraged slayer. His head hit the floor with a thud, rolling slowly to lie beside Spike, it’s now unfocused dead eyes staring an unconscious Spike in the face.

Buffy slumped on the floor in a bruised cocoon, panting and gasping in air so as to distract herself from the rumbling announcement of others further down the corridor.

“Spike,” she hissed, wiggling her butt across the floor to violently nudge him with her fashionably worn in sneakers. “Wake up you pathetic excuse for a master vampire. I could have dusted you right now and all you’d know is the sound of wind in your crumbling ears. Now get the hell up and get us out of here.” She was beyond pissed and when she got home this nightmare was going to be completely erased from her mind.

Buffy ignored the rumbly butterflies tickling inside her belly at the husky moan that heralded Spike’s return to consciousness. That was really going to be something else she made him pay for at some later date. Preferably when she’d trussed him up to look like a silk worm on steroids. Spike wobbled as he pushed himself to his feet, his head cradled in his hands as he fell back a few steps and collapsed on the bed.

“Fuck.” He obviously was too wiped out for conversation and Buffy just continued sitting on the floor, glaring at him and feeling huffily impatient that he was such a freaking light-weight.

“You do realise Stoney’s friends are just down the hall and are going to come and eat us alive if you don’t get a grip and get us the hell out of here?”

There, that sparked a bit of life, even if it was just to allow Spike to slither to the floor. He looked worried, uncertain, and then irritated as he took out a huge shiny knife and grinned at her manically. Obviously he’d cracked—along with his head.

Eyes wide, heart beating too hard, Buffy contemplated how much strength she had left in her super-duper-power-double-bound kick. The light glinted off the blade and Buffy shrunk back in sudden fear. When it came to the reality of staring death in the face, it was so much less fun than she thought it would be. Particularly with the inability to fight back.

Oh boy, now she’d done it. She’d always known it was going to be Spike. Now that the reality was here, it just really really sucked.

TBC

Chapter Five

She made it less than half mile down the road before her guilty conscience brought her to a screeching halt. Standing there in the middle of the deserted highway, Buffy fisted her hands at her sides and stomped her feet in a fit of pique.

Her frenzy of fear over Spike coming at her with that knife had been wasted. Sure, he had knicked her a few times while cutting her loose, but that was understandable given he’d been knocked senseless by Stoney the boulder demon. Which would never have happened if he’d kept his trap shut in the first place, she reasoned as she tried to force herself to continue her impromptu midnight hike.

God! She couldn’t believe she was actually entertaining the idea of going back there. He’d kidnapped her, for heaven’s sakes! He fully intended on hauling her ass to Brazil and feeding her to that insane goth bimbo like a Buffy-shaped Scooby Snack.

Still, he’d been hurt defending her, and it chafed at her sense of fair play to have left him bloody and unconscious on the matted rug of their motel room. It wasn’t like he was in any danger. Once he’d freed her, she had efficiently dispatched Stoney’s buds with extreme prejudice and with one last smug look at his battered form, she’d skipped merrily out the door.

Only to run smack dab into this invisible but highly effective road block. With a frustrated growl, Buffy whipped around and headed back the way she came.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered crossly. “Stupid conscience!”

Stomping back didn’t seem to take near as long as running away had. Unfortunately, Spike was right where she’d left him. His handsome face was blooming purple with bruises from Stoney’s rock hard fists, and he didn’t even stir when she heaved him none too gently up onto the bed.

A quick check for injuries other than the obvious bruises found a few broken ribs which she ruthlessly bound up with strips of shredded bed linens. She thought about tying him up with them, but even injured as he was, his vampiric strength would make a joke of her efforts, and the magical rope he’d used to restrain her lay in a pile of useless pieces on the floor.

Winded after her tussle with the unconscious English patient, Buffy flopped down on the bed beside him to catch her breath. Spike mumbled something that sounded like ‘bloody slayer’ but showed no other signs of waking up. She really should take off again before he regained what little bit of sense he owned.

On her feet and halfway across the tatty room, a sudden realization had her eyes widening with alarm. God, she’d almost made a colossal mistake by leaving him here! Once he woke up, Spike would be free to munch on an unsuspecting public.

Well, that was that. She’d have to load his undead carcass into that heap of rolling scrap iron he called a car and tote his ass back to Sunnydale.

It never occurred to her that it would be far easier to just stake him now, rather than go to the trouble of dragging him home with her.

The fact that there were several valid reasons why one Buffy Summers didn’t possess a driver’s license was immaterial. She had no other choice but to drive, because she sure as hell wasn’t giving him a slayer piggyback ride.

First she needed to find his car keys. A quick search of the table tops netted nothing, ditto for the pockets of that showy leather coat of his. They had to be in the pockets of his jeans. Buffy approached the concussed vampire, eyeing him with an air of trepidation.

She realized with a jolt that this was the first time she had ever seen Spike sans shirt. She’d been too distracted earlier with the whole being tied up thing to look when he’d jumped into bed with her. Starting with the attractively mussed, strikingly white hair, her eyes traveled slowly over him. The lower she got, the higher her eyebrows lifted in silent adulation of his more than adequate physical attributes.

Climbing up on the bed, she inched forward cautiously until she knelt beside his hip. An involuntary sigh escaped her. He really was a beautiful man. ‘No wonder Drusilla was hell bent on having him,’ Buffy thought with an irreverent giggle. ‘And that was before she even saw him naked.’

Suddenly wistful hazel eyes lingered over skin so pale and perfect it was almost translucent. Loosening her death grip on her knees, she raised one hand and let it drift just above his body; not touching, but skimming lightly from point to point as her stare wandered southward.

How wrong was it of her to compare him to Angel only to have her first love come up short… er, lacking? Buffy shook her head, trying to jar some sense into her fuzzy brain. Sadly, her memories of their one night together were fuzzier than her head felt at the moment, so it was a struggle to remember the few times she had seen Angel without his shirt. The only thing that stuck with her was how he had always rushed to put something on like a blushing old maid.

Spike, on the other hand, seemed more the type to flaunt his goodies. Where Angel was Mr. Reserved and well… broody, Spike oozed confidence and a latent sexuality that she had fought from day one to ignore. It was in the walk, and definitely in the talk, and it drove her quietly insane most of the time.

As if to mock her conflict-y thoughts, her hand continued to dance airily from pec to pec and down over his stomach, and of course those thoughts had no effect on the unconscious pout that pushed out her bottom lip when the bandages around his torso hid what promised to be a scrumptious rack of rippling abdominals.

Her breath hitched in her throat as her eager eyes lighted on the faint dusting of light brown curls that ran from his navel to disappear under the button fly of his Levis.

‘Happy traaails!!’ her inner perv sang out rapturously as she avidly followed the path of silky hair and came to rest on the substantial bulge pressing against its denim prison. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when the dormant beast began to swell and rise towards the warmth of her hand as it hovered over him.

‘Holy crap, talk about responsive! Wonder if that’s a vamp thing?’ Buffy marveled. Somehow, she was pretty certain it was a Spike-only thing, because she’d certainly never noticed Angel tenting his trousers at the merest hint of her touch. ‘Argh! Stop with the comparisons, Buffy!’

Narrow hips arched just the tiniest bit upwards and a soft, purr-y growl erupted from Spike’s throat. Buffy snatched her hand back and glared suspiciously at his relaxed face. So help her, if he was faking it, he was dust!

She waited a full five minutes before leaning over him once more and using two fingers to frisk his front pockets. ‘Just check his pockets, Buff. Don’t think about anything else your fingers might be close to,’ she ordered herself bracingly.

She really should have pulled her hand out once the delinquent keychain was located, but the urge was too strong to resist. Perv!Buffy was firmly in the driver’s seat and steering her tingling fingers on a slight detour. She gasped as she made contact, amazed at the warmth that seemed to emanate from his hard flesh even through layers of material.

‘That has to be uncomfortable,’ Buffy couldn’t help thinking in a surprising moment of skewed sympathy. ‘All crammed in there like that. Maybe I should loosen a few buttons… Just to give him some breathing room, so to speak.’

Lustful thought became deed as she reached with her free hand and quickly undid the top three buttons. She couldn’t suppress the delicious shiver that swept over her as she folded his jeans back and Spike was revealed to her for the first time.

‘Whoa, mama!’

The rigid column of his erection lay thick and enticing against his flat belly, porcelain perfection rising from a nest of honey colored curls. Her murky memories of the Playgirl magazine she’d been lucky enough to sneak a peek at in the girls restroom long ago had in no way prepared her for this. She dithered, reaching out and drawing back in several aborted attempts, caught between shame at molesting an incapacitated man and the all-consuming need to see what it felt like.

The decision of whether she should risk touching him again was taken out of her hands when an iron grip seized her wrist and ground her frozen fingers down onto his turgid shaft. For one heart stopping moment, she allowed herself to savor the illicit sensation of having him hard and pulsing under her hand, and then he spoke, “Mmm… Dru…”

Buffy jerked her hand free with an indignant squawk and scuttled from the bed, horrified eyes flying to rest on his face. He… How dare he think she was his demented ho of a girlfriend!

She was seconds away from punching the still unmoving bleached menace in the nose when she froze, completely aghast at her reaction. What the hell was wrong with her? Why should she care if he assumed she was his criminally insane sire? Spike waking up thinking this was a dream was a good thing, because she knew he would never, ever let her live it down if he suspected it was her.

Precious minutes were wasted as she fought to calm herself enough to brave tucking him away and doing up his pants. She then hefted him over her shoulder and carried him to the car, muttering profanities all the while. “Bet your precious Dru wouldn’t have come back for you, you ungrateful bastard!” she ranted, completely ignorant of the childish whine her voice had taken on. She was less than gentle, managing to somehow stuff him in the back seat without waking him. Tossing his belongings in after him, she hopped in the driver’s seat and thrust the key into the ignition.

It started with a coughing roar on the first try and Buffy gripped the steering wheel so hard she was sure she was leaving dents in it. She could do this!

Grabbing the gear shift with grim determination, she tugged it into reverse and pressed on the gas. The car shot back out of the parking space, narrowly missing a late model minivan before she threw it into drive and began to inch out of the parking lot.

She only took out two signs and a payphone before she made it to the exit.

TBC~

Chapter Six

He was having that dream again. The one where he’d had to fight every impulse known to vamps that Dru didn’t cotton onto it. Not that he’d needed to worry that much. By the time they’d really taken a hold of him, sex with Dru was a thing of the past. Still, there were moments since first leaving Sunnydale when the unpredictable nature of his sire could have resulted in his dust floating around the inside of his car. Much better that she didn’t know who he thought of when he allowed his eyes to close.

It was the one where he had the Slayer caressing his cock in her hand, her warm flesh smooth as she stroked him as hard as she did her precious stake. It was his fantasy, that phallic stand in. That she’d see the value in his cock as superior to the stick she carried nightly in her hands. The feeling of flesh against his dick seemed particularly vivid this time and just as he was about to groan her name, he came to his dream senses and squeezed ‘Dru’ past his lips instead.

That seemed to go down like a lead balloon. One whisper of his true love’s name and his cock was surrounded by nothing but frosty air. Bloody cruel was what it was, and even in his dreams the Slayer didn’t abandon his predicament like a jealous suitor. By the time some of the stiffness relaxed and the ache in his privates decreased, he felt motion sickness. Weird bloody sensation to get in a dream, but he went with it, trying hard not to release all the delicious blood he’d stolen from his captive before he’d been brained by a bloody big chunk of a mountain.

He was sure he should lay off the rough and tumbles for a while as his dream leant a little closer to reality and he felt himself half thrown into some place narrow. Finally, the sensation was of his head bouncing on something firm but comfy and his feet feeling the breeze between his toes. Obviously the mix of booze, blood of the Chosen and a concussion made his dreams much too real. With a final groan, Spike succumbed to whatever it was that had him in its thrall and just hoped that when he did become conscious again it would be to a world that made far more sense than any reality he’d been in lately.

His feet were cold. Well, he was used to the non-existent circulation so he meant more that they were freezing. Wakefulness was pressing and for a reason he couldn’t account for—vampire reflexes and sonar for danger not withstanding—he felt his body tighten with a sense of anxiety. The first thing to fully register was the soothing purr of his precious. The Desoto was obviously being pushed to the edge of her capabilities and being that he was lying down, he found that prospect rather startling.

Against the hypnotic roll of his tires on tarmac, Spike became aware of a tinny off-tune voice singing to some bubblegum pop rubbish. No back-up music, no radio obviously since the Slayer had vanquished that demon, just pure off-key drivel. Which begged the question of how anyone in their right mind would memorise the lyrics to such tripe.

There was a bird at the wheel of his car. Sleep blinked frantically from his eyes, Spike’s alertness coincided alarmingly with a vicious swerve of the car. He felt himself slide, eyes wide and arms flailing in panic as he careened toward the end of the seat without the backdoor. And where the fuck was his back door? If she’d tossed it then the bitch was going to die. Blow taking her to Dru for late night munchies. He was going to have Slayer barbecued ribs while the destructive bint was barely kept alive to watch.

“Arggghhhhh—” He couldn’t stop his arse from sliding across the leather, his car doing a fine impersonation of a big metallic snake on the road. He was half hanging out the door, his back and rear getting a whipping from the wind as he clung desperately to the car frame, swearing colourfully as the Slayer tried to regain control of the vehicle.

She settled back into her lane and he glanced around, relieved to find that they were the only traffic on the lonely road—that seemed to be heading in the wrong bleeding direction.

“What the hell are you doing, Slayer?” he almost snarled, about to climb over the seat until she slammed on the brakes and he fell back in a heap of unflattering limbs.

“Oh crap, you could have warned me you were awake.” Her voice was a little shaky, and for the life of him, he couldn’t summon up the will to care.

“Was busy trying to make sure your erratic driving—and by that I mean completely fucked up and dangerous—didn’t propel me out onto the bloody Highway. You’re a fucking menace.” And he dived back over the seat, quickly nursing his shattered eardrum at her screech, and tried to wrestle the wheel out of her hands.

“Gimme back my car, bitch.” He had lost his cool—was fast approaching out of control and desperate. Spike had vamped without even knowing it, his pure demon fury in the driver’s seat even if Spike’s arse wasn’t.

“Let go, you ass!” Buffy cringed as he growled furiously and gave the wheel a sudden wrench to the side. “I’m gonna crash if you don’t lay off.” Her foot seemingly slipped from the brake and hit the accelerator and they jumped from one erratic swing to the left to another on the right.

Buffy screamed and Spike roared, completely beside himself in temper now. He took one look at her terrified expression, and shoved her hard with his shoulder into the door. The car jolted as Buffy wrenched herself back and slammed into him, sending him flying into the passenger door with a sickening thud.

His snarl and gnashing fangs declared war and Spike used his hands to dazzle her, slapping and pushing in too many places at once for her to remain concentrating on both the road and him. In one wild attempt at showing superiority, Buffy let go of the wheel and punched Spike in the jaw, almost crowing as his head cracked against the side window. Quick as lightening he snagged a handful of hair and smashed her face into his groin—stubbornly ignoring how good it felt to have her face pressed against his throbbing cock. As she spluttered and tried to push herself out of there, he spied the devilishly thin strap of her panties as they disappeared within the crack of her ass, evil intent in his smirk as he grabbed it and yanked. Her scream was pure ambrosia to the senses—until he felt hard teeth clamp around the tight denim covering his cock and he felt the miracle of bite marks sink into his rigid flesh.

“Holy fuck,” he yelled and they were airborne, careening off the Highway and nosing straight off the side into a ditch. Spike left his seat completely and his skull slammed into the front windscreen, glass shattering and sprinkling down amongst the Slayer’s hair and his lap.

“Spike, Spike!! Oh God, are you alright?”

He looked at her, blood dripping down his forehead and incredulity burning a hole in gut.

“Vampire!” he half screamed in petulance. “O’course I’m bloody alright.”

“Oh,” she conceded, turning relieved eyes to him, smiling in not a small amount of relief. “That’s good. And…you know…thanks for protecting me from going through the window.”

Was she for real? She’d practically given him brain damage just by being around her and she thought he’d actively prevented her own head meeting the same fate? He had to be hallucinating. And had half convinced himself of that fact, preparing to sit back and rest his eyes till his world was back to rights when a diamond of shattered glass dug underneath his jeans’ waistband.

“You stupid bitch. Now you’ve smashed my bloody windscreen.” He could feel tears tickling his throat as he surveyed the damage. Flecks of black paint were still shimmering against the internal light. Well, he supposed if nothing else he should be grateful she hadn’t taken him out during the day.

“Hey, you broke it, buster. Not my fault your head is pure rock.”

That just bleeding well tore it! “Well my head wouldn’t have gone through it at all if little Miss Fuck-everything-up-as-soon-as-she-looks-at-it didn’t fancy learning how to hit every inanimate object available in MY FUCKING CAR!”

Whoa! Who knew vamps could go bright red in the face.

“Get out.” He’d somehow managed to wipe all evidence of emotion from his face, completely aware that he was one fang away from tearing her to shreds, and if she honestly believed she’d walked out of all their previous encounters because of skill, she was close to getting a show of how bloody and bleeding she’d really end up with a vampire who truly wanted her dead.

The bitch blinked. If Spike wasn’t already seeing great hazes of red he’d be overflowing with blood.

“Get the bloody fuck out now,” he bellowed and Buffy scrambled to her knees and crawled out of the wide open front window, her ass swaying in his face. He wanted to bruise it bad. Maybe later, when he felt a little more in control.

Spike leapt through the gap straight after her, landing in the only bit of grace he’d displayed for he didn’t know how many hours.

“Get your scrawny arse back here and help me get her back on the road. Then, if you so much as open your trap, or even look like you’re going to lift a foot in the name of violence to my car, I’ll tear you out of there and run you down. Reverse, and run over your cooling corpse until I can get rid of some of the inner rage that right now is telling me you’d look a whole lot more beautiful fucking headless. Got it?”

Buffy nodded slowly, more than aware that Spike’s left eye was twitching and it really wasn’t a good idea to challenge a pissed off vamp who’d just suffered a head wound. Who knew what he could do only to thoroughly regret it later?

“Sure, Spike. Hey,” she said, holding her hands up to show him she was co-operating. “See me with the pushing?”

His temper hadn’t even slightly cooled by the time she realised they were heading away from Sunnydale and back to Dru. She’d let him continue for a little bit, her guilt at trashing his car a bit more enough to keep her quiet. But the next stop…he’d better watch out.

No way was Buffy going to end up Dru’s suck-up surprise pressie, even if he did call her beautiful. Sort of.

TBC~

Chapter 7 Open All Night

“I’m hungry.”

The opportunity was simply too good to pass up. Without taking his eyes from the road, Spike sneered and grabbed his crotch. “Eat me.”

“What? Ewwww!” Buffy’s faced scrunched in disgust. “You’re a total pig, Spike!”

He shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one that almost took a bloody chunk out of it earlier, slayer. Surely that little nibble satisfied the inner bitch for a while?”

“Stop being gross, Spike. I need food!” Her voice was rapidly degenerating into a high-pitched whine. “Real food!”

Between the constant bitching and the loud grumbling of her stomach, Spike was ready to rip her tits off and stuff them in his ears for a bit of peace and quiet. At this rate he’d be forced to drain her before they even got to the border just to retain a little bit of sanity.

They had to be stopping soon, anyway. He needed to find a place that would be willing to do a rush job in fixing the windshield. ‘Don’t fancy playing Renfield all the way Brazil,’ he thought, cursing his disgust as he spat out yet another june bug.

He fully intended on making her suffer for the damage she had inflicted on his ‘baby’. Spike glared at the remaining shards of what had once been the original windshield and then cast a baleful look at the slayer.

The cool night air rushed through the opening, whipping her disheveled hair around her thoroughly peeved face. Even being rather the worse for wear hygienically she was still a looker, but her beauty reminded him of an old saying; no matter how good a woman looks, someone, somewhere, is completely and utterly sick of her shit.

Spike had passed that point about three exits back.

“Spiiiiiike!”

The minute they stopped for the day, he was finding a hardware store and buying them out of duct tape. Maybe mummifying her from those dainty ankles up to her little beak of a nose would get him a few hours surcease from her incessant caterwauling. The image of her bound in silver tape and looking like a giant Slinky brought a smile to his face for the first time in hours.

Buffy stared at him with more than a trace of fear. “Are you humming the… Slinky song?” she asked, clearly horrified.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess I am.” The maniacal grin was back.

She edged closer to the door, face turned firmly to the front once more. “Weird-assed vampire,” she muttered.

Spike let that pass, but kept up with the humming. One: because it annoyed her so much, and two: he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist for very long. Sure enough, he heard her faintly humming along with him in spite of herself.

It was good to get a little of his own back. Stupid bint shouldn’t ‘ve busted his radio.

~*~*~

He pulled to a stop in the parking lot of yet another seedy motel, this one close to the California/Arizona state line. It was conveniently located right next to a huge truck stop that seemed to be doing a roaring trade.

“Ooh! Food!” Buffy squealed. She was halfway out of the car before Spike caught her by the belt loops and hauled her back inside.

“Ah, ah, ahhh!” he chided, taking advantage of her surprise to tug her over the slick leather seat and onto his lap. He quickly subdued her thrashing arms and legs, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly in place. “Not so fast. Luv. The vampire eats first.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you insane?” Buffy rolled her eyes at her own words. “What am I saying? Look who I’m talking to; of course you’re insane!”

“Come on, Slayer. Give us a sip and I’ll buy you a burger. And a big plate of those greasy fries you American’s love so much,” Spike coaxed. He brushed her hair back from her neck and leaned in to give her throat a quick nip.

Her squirming slowed at the mention of food and her tummy gave a mournful gurgle. “This is about that control thingie again, isn’t it? You taking my blood and making me all weak so you can keep me in line,” she protested.

“Partly.”

“Partly?”

“That’s just an added bonus. Truth is, I’m hungry enough to eat a few bikers with a side-order of big-haired waitress,” he threatened with the smile of a man who knew he held all the aces. In his case, all five of them.

Buffy slumped in his grasp. His threat was clear; either she complied or he would feed on the patrons of the diner. She was so screwed.

Wait! Not screwed! Her spine straightened with a snap. There would be no screwing here! Or anywhere, for that matter. No screwing of Buffy, especially not by Spike!

“Alright,” she conceded in defeat. “But I swear, Spike, that if I catch you so much as sniffing at the neck of anyone in that place, I’ll…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll stake me good ‘n proper, blah blah blah. Heard it all before.” Spike wagged his head back and forth against the seat with each ‘blah’. “Whatever, it’s a deal. C’mere.”

He scooted into the middle of the seat and shifted her until she straddled his lap. A ragged gasp hissed through his clenched teeth as he pulled her snugly against him, her cleft scorching him through layers of denim as it cradled his rising erection.

Buffy slapped her hands down on his chest, more for balance than to restrain him. “What… What are you doing?”

“Settin’ the mood. What the fuck does it look like?” he grunted when she tried to buck loose and crawl away from him.

“No! There will be no… no mood! Just bite me and get it over with, you pervert!” Big hands grabbed her butt and slammed her back down, holding her firmly in place. “Dammit, Spike! Quit!”

“Busload of tourists just pulled up, Slayer. You sure you want a hungry vamp runnin’ around here?” he demanded, tired of her constant prevaricating.

Seeing that there was indeed a big silver tour bus unloading across the parking lot, Buffy stilled, her expression mutinous. “Evil!” she spat.

“Never claimed I wasn’t, pet.” He drew her closer, nuzzling her soft skin. “Now. Shut. Up.”

Biting her lips to hold back a retort, she held herself stiff even as she allowed him free reign at her neck. In spite of her grim determination to remain aloof, a faint moan clawed at her throat as his blunt teeth worried at his earlier bite mark. Encouraged by the soft noises she made, Spike nipped his way up to her ear and drew the velvety lobe between his lips, sucking gently.

The kiss that followed seemed a natural progression, but both were stunned by the sparks of static that flared at the very first touch of their lips. They drew back sharply, eyes wide with shock, staring at each other for heart stopping seconds before drifting slowly back together and into another bone melting embrace.

Spike was astounded by his reaction to the warmth of her mouth. The taste of her was intoxicating and he found himself greedy for more as he met the tongue she plunged between his lips with his own.

Completely overwhelmed, Buffy gripped his biceps, her nails lightly scoring his flesh. His needy groans in response to her kisses were a sop to the ego that had suffered greatly during these past few months of forced celibacy with Angel.

As early as two days ago, the thought of the dark haired vampire would have had her leaping back in absolute horror at her actions. Instead, she thrust his image firmly to the back of her mind and threw herself headlong into the rapture that was Spike lips plundering hers.

The heat of her pussy riding up and down his stiff prick was driving him crazy. Spike was sure that the silver buttons of his fly were permanently embedded in his rigid flesh as she ground herself against him on the down stroke. Desperate for some relief, he reached down to rip open the fly of his jeans and free his throbbing erection. Buffy beat him to it, gasping into his panting mouth as he sprang into her waiting hands.

What she lacked in experience, she more than made up for in enthusiasm. One small hand gripped him tightly, her thumb swirling around the tip as she stroked him into a frenzy. Her other hand grabbed his and thrust it inside her knotted shirt. Spike mindlessly obeyed the painful tug on his hair when she broke the kiss and guided his mouth to her breast.

‘Gotta love a girl that knows what she likes,’ he thought as he palmed a perfect peach of a breast and curled his tongue around the needy little nipple, sucking it voraciously. The slayer arched and murmured a husky groan of approval on contact.

He fought to get a hand down her pants, but even unfastened they were far too tight. Growling in frustration, Spike knocked her hand from his cock and flipped her neatly, pinning her to the seat as he roughly stripped her jeans from her legs and laid her bare to him for the first time.

For an instant his muddled brain tried to reason with his raging libido. He held himself above her, gazing down in a welter of indecision at her flushed face and slumberous hazel eyes. Fucking the slayer had been in no way part of his plan, but he had been completely blindsided by the sudden conflagration that blazed between them.

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked. His sudden hesitation unnerved her. She’d pretty much expected an immediate pouncing and ravishing kind of reaction from him, not this whole staring at her like she was some kind of celestial goddess thing.

He shook his head as if to clear it before his eyes drifted from her face down over her bare shoulders to the soft mounds of her breasts. His hand came up to touch, cool fingers lightly circling the pink nipple until it drew up taut and begging for more.

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat as she fell back against the aged leather of the seat, her entire body tensed in anticipation as his narrow hips nudged her thighs apart and he held himself still and hard at the entrance to her quivering body. Her restless hands swept up and over smooth alabaster skin and hard muscle to tangle in his hair.

Their eyes met unflinchingly. Seeing the calm acceptance in hers, he flexed his hips and surged into her pliant channel with one smooth stroke.

“Oh, fuck! Buffy…” Spike threw his head back with a harsh groan as he was surrounded by the succulent, fiery walls of her pussy.

“Yessssssss!” Buffy hissed in sibilant jubilation. She felt crammed full to bursting, dancing along a fine line between pleasure and pain and ooh God, it felt so gloriously wonderful. She tossed her head, driven nearly delirious with rapture as he began to thrust, his movements slow and hard and deep.

After so long of denying herself, of being forced to hold herself aloof from Angel, to finally allow herself the bliss of knowing another’s touch drove her to new and dizzying heights. She dug her nails into his back to urge him on, feeling delighted shivers course through her as a harsh growl ripped from his throat. Her hands clenched and kneaded, suddenly driven to cherish the dip and play of muscle that drove his hard flesh into her depths.

Spike’s free hand tangled in her hair, twisting the silky strands around his fingers and using them to guide her mouth to his. He kissed her voraciously, only allowing her to break free for some much needed air. He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead to hers while she panted and filled her starved lungs. While he waited for her to catch her breath, his mouth rediscovered the warmth of her neck, forcing back a knowing smirk when lingering over pounding pulse points sent her shooting into blissful spasms.

Buffy curled her body around his, prodding him even closer with hands and heels, urging him to drive his cock even deeper until she had no idea where she left off and he began.

Slowing the churn of his body within hers, Spike reared back, his eyes flashing gold as he focused all of his of attention on the long, elegant line of her throat. A low, hungry growl resonated through his chest and his face shifted as the demon burst free.

Her reaction stunned him. Instead of the expected expression of disgust and small hands pushing him forcefully away, Buffy gave an all over shiver and clenched her knees tighter against his ribs. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped her as she tilted her head invitingly to the side, sparkling hazel eyes never leaving his.

He lowered his head a fraction at a time. At the first brush of his ridged forehead against the soft skin of her cheek, a fresh wave of her arousal slicked his cock and perfumed the air around them. His mouth unerringly found the pulsing line of her jugular and he traced it tauntingly, bathing it with his roughened tongue. Slowly, and with infinite care, he sank his fangs home.

The slight, stinging pain of his bite drew a high-pitched gasp and sent her careening over the edge. Buffy’s hips bucked upwards, urging him to quicken his pace while she drove her fingers into his hair and pressed him closer. Wailing his name, she rode out the crashing waves of bliss, barely conscious of the harsh, rumbling growls coming from the vampire at her throat.

Spike was lost. He was certain that his spine would buckle under the pressure as he purged himself inside her clenching sheath, wilting against her with a heartfelt groan.

Languishing in the aftermath, neither felt like summoning the strength to move. Spike kept his mouth fastened over the small wounds on her neck, lazily swashing his tongue over them, while Buffy unsheathed her claws from his hide and reached up to tenderly stroke his hair. When he finally lifted his head and started to shift himself off to the side, she clung to him like a limpet.

“Mmm…” she stretched and purred beneath him. “That was incredible, Spike.” She nuzzled his ear and latched onto his earlobe, sucking and nibbling. “Can we do that again?”

Cuddly, satiated Buffy was a mind-boggling novelty that had him swelling and stretching within her. Spike wanted to howl like a crazed wolf when she playfully clamped down on his length.

Things were just starting to get interesting again when they heard a crash from the front of the car and a deep, ominous snarl. There was just enough time for widened eyes to meet and a mad scramble for clothing before a huge, wrinkled demon appeared, staring down through the busted windshield at the nearly naked couple.

TBC~

Chapter Eight by Megan

“Spike!” Buffy screamed. She so did not just see him practically fly out the front of the windscreen, ass bare-naked to a busload of shocked tourists while crash-tackling Mr. Wrinkly Over-achiever and leaving Buffy to tear frantically at her clothing to set it to rights. She paused at the zip of her pants, her jaw hanging as she watched Spike carve it up with something that looked like a sharpie on steroids, his flaccid cock flapping for all who had the courage to look and his ass shining white in the moonlight and the Desoto’s high beam.

Buffy was thoroughly, totally, stunningly horrified. The second she tore her attention from the unnecessary display of what she’d sampled with total satisfaction—no way was she giving her money back—then she was completely tuned into the swift grace of Spike’s attack.

Buffy had just finished tying her top back together and snapped her jeans closed to scramble over the car’s hood when the demon picked her up, dangled her in the air above his monstrously canine looking head, and slammed her hard back down on the metal. All she could do was groan. Didn’t matter that this injury wasn’t her fault—Spike was going to kill her. Somehow she didn’t think that dent was coming out without a lot of body work.

She couldn’t help the jump—which so wasn’t a bounce—when she heard Spike’s roar. After the way he badly took the ditch incident, she was justified in feeling more than a little bit of fear at his fury. The guy had serious issues regarding this hunk of junk, and Buffy really wanted him to just get over them. Still, he had her gratitude as a meaty fist was cut off before it connected with her skull, the monster being flipped backwards as Spike went all feral and fangy, ripping saggy Cujo’s head off with a snarl of triumph.

The car park (2 words) was stunned silent as Spike stood panting, his obviously forgotten cock swelling from the rowdiness of the fight.

“Spike!” Buffy hissed, jerking her head at their audience as she tried to do the eye communicaty thing.

He looked startled, turning to give the crowd a little wave. “Evenin’ all. Cameras are hidden or you’d see this ugly bugger was taking part in a horror flick.” He nodded happily, feeling unsure why he’d bothered but glad he’d done his part in keeping US citizen’s oblivious to the truth of the dark.

“Good one, Spike. I think they got the non-verbal porno part of that explanation.” Buffy caught Spike in the roll of her eyes. He looked thoroughly lost until Buffy gave her lips a sexy little lick and stared boldly at his dangly bits…that were currently semi-hard but still dangling a little freer than they need be.

“Right,” he answered with no sign of embarrassment—though he seemed to swell even more. Buffy felt her face was red enough for the both of them. Well, until he ran a hand over his length, grasping it in a tight fist and pumped himself hard. Squeals of disgust were heard intermingled with some masculine laughter and Spike was casually tucking himself back into his pants, whistling jovially while he ambled back to the car. (maybe a few lustful glances from the ladies? lol)

And then his eyes slid over the dazed slayer still sprawled over the top of his car and his eyes narrowed with seething hatred.

“You know you’re gonna pay dearly for this, don’t you, Slayer?”

Buffy spluttered, kicking her way to sitting and grimacing as her heel smashed in a headlight. The sound of tinkling glass on the tarmac held her in thrall, nervous eyes seeking his reaction and just barely holding back a flinch as he was suddenly in her face.

“That so wasn’t my fault and you know it.” She did flinch as his eyes bugged and his fangs dropped. “Okay, so I’ll remember to not have footwear near the headlights, but how was I supposed to know?” She pouted, hoping against hope that it would have the same or a similar effect that it always had on Xander and Giles.

That tick in his jaw really didn’t look good. Well, it looked good—way good in fact. Just so not of the encouraging.

“Close your bleeding mouth while you’re ahead,” he grit out past his locked jaw. Buffy’s lips parted, a much needed objection threatening to dig her hole a little deeper when Spike held up a menacing pointy finger in a ‘don’t you bloody dare’ gesture. “Shut it, Slayer, or I promise I’ll eat you good and proper.”

The spontaneous grin that brightened up her face hinted at a cheeky familiarity his baser urges had paved the way for. Could she help it if now she’d felt him inside her that she couldn’t take those words the same way as she always had before? No freaking way. Now his mouth had other purposes than to shoot out insults and suck the blood of the innocent.

Buffy kept her boots together, sliding the rest of the way down the hood of the car until her feet hit the ground. She studied him all the way, noticing the tightening of his lips as he watched her descent, the appreciation in his eyes that she took effort to not do anything else profound to his car with her feet.

“I know I’m all fatigued from days of no eating and possibly a little confused, but have you noticed at all that these demons seem to be attacking us? Like, as in kind of specifically? What did you do?” She smiled up at him sweetly, the tone of her voice almost mesmerising despite the element of accusation not even slightly buried.

What she didn’t expect was the slump of Spike’s shoulders as he leaned defeated against his car. A second of contemplative silence and he hopped up to sit on the hood, Buffy eyeing him resentfully. She’d just wriggled her way free of the comfort, now she had to stand or risk being growled at again. That thought did jittery things inside her belly and she decided to hell with it, jumping up and landing butt first on the hood beside him.

“Yeah, might have some knowledge what that’s all about.” He seemed so down all of a sudden that Buffy couldn’t help putting an arm around him and thumping his back in a show of warped comfort.

“I’m sure it’s not so bad, Spike. We can sort it out. Demon’s right? Kinda my job to take them on.”

“It’s Dru,” he confided, and Buffy’s hand came to an abrupt stop and her heart shrivelled. And were those tears in his eyes? Oh that so wasn’t happening.

“Well, just so happens she falls under the demon category and is in my job description. Besides, payback’s a bitch.” Buffy’s lips were in a thin line, her imagination already running rampant with all the ways she could kill Spike’s insane…was she an ex? Drusilla seemed to think so. So why was she sending the demon equivalent of hitmen or the mob after Spike?

His abject horror at her plan felt like a blow to the temple, Buffy pushing herself away from him in sudden emotional revulsion. It was just so typical. Sleep with a guy and the first thing they did was to try and blow you off. Okay, so Spike hadn’t conjured that demon out of thin air, but he still wanted Dru back. Her Looniness had no loyalty to him so why was Spike hellbent on serving up a slayer-sized lunch to get her back?

“I offed one of her bedmates. Guess it riled her up a tad.” He sounded so miserable that Buffy laughed. And it so wasn’t in the humourous scale of laughter.

“You are so pathetic. She has been sending these things to kill you, moron. Do you really think that taking me back to her and letting her feast on my blood will get you back in the good books?” Buffy was back on her feet, seriously tempted to smash her foot through the one remaining headlight, but tapping it furiously instead. She was after an argument, depending on it in fact, so when he looked down at his feet, then reached into his car to snag up his coat and retrieve a cigarette, he completely diffused her fit of temper.

“Well, seems like the fight makes me a bit peckish,” he told her, peeved.

And he threw his half smoked cancer stick on the ground and stomped off toward the diner, leaving Buffy fuming helplessly behind him.

TBC

Chapter Nine by Tam

“You are going to eat that.”

Buffy stared, completely aghast, at the huge hamburger on her plate. The damned thing was as big around as her face and he expected her to eat all of it?

“I asked for a chef salad with low fat dressing,” she grumbled, lifting mutinous eyes to meet his. She struggled to ignore the savory odors of grilled meat and deep fried potatoes that wafted through the air.

Spike shrugged carelessly. A double order of greasy French fries sat on the table between them and every once in a while the vampire would grab one and drown it in the lake of ketchup on his own plate.

“Eat.”

“No.”

“’S gonna sting like hell when I cram it up your bloody nostrils, Slayer,” he warned.

She refused to even dignify that with an answer. Crossing her arms in front of her, Buffy flung herself back against the cracked vinyl seat and glared at her plate. Her stomach gurgled, begging for just a taste of the succulent looking sandwich. She stubbornly averted her eyes, knowing she was acting beyond childish, but in typical Spike fashion he was bringing out the worst in her.

“Look.” He pushed the fries aside and folded his arms in front of him on the table. “I know for a fact that you’ve had nothing but water since I snatched you. You either eat something or I'll rip out your gullet, stuff it full to bursting with this fattening food, and then shove it back inside you.”

Buffy goggled at him. If his tone had raised the slightest bit towards threatening, she would have blown him off, but his voice remained flat- almost calm- and deadly in its sincerity. His harsh words and callous manner reminded her a little too much of Angel’s cruel actions after she’d slept with him. Granted, Spike was still around after the fact, and it had taken a marauding demon to pry him from between her thighs, but she was still smarting from his nonchalant attitude after an act that still made her tummy flip just thinking about it. Had it meant nothing to him?

Tears stung her eyes as she begrudgingly snatched up the burger and took a huge bite. Forcing it down over the lump in her throat took some doing but her greedy stomach thanked her for the effort. Miserable or not, her healthy teenage appetite took over.

Spike had to look away to hide his victorious smile as she tucked into her meal. Nudging the glass of orange juice closer earned him another scathing look, although its impact was severely diminished by the fact that her cheeks were packed like a chipmunks with food. Throwing his hands up in mock-defeat, he slumped back into the corner of the booth and tried to ignore her in favor of his own tumultuous thoughts; Dru’s latest assassination attempt weighed heavily on his mind.

He’d hoped that by now she might have calmed down a little, but apparently her ire was just as intense now as it had been the night she’s chased him from their little bungalow. It wasn’t his fault her latest creature feature had taken a shine to him. Spike had made it more than clear to the fungus-draped bloke that he wasn’t his type, but the lust-blinded sod had refused to take no for an answer. The resulting separation of her new playmate’s head from his beefy shoulders had sent his darling girl into a screaming frenzy of teeth and claws.

It was then that he’d hatched his crazy scheme to kidnap the slayer and bring her with him to Brazil. He’d gift his loony sire with the slayer he’d dreamed of making his third, showing Dru once and for all that there came a time when the sainted Miss Edith was wrong!

As if it wasn’t enough that he had a wild-eyed slayer to deal with, he was now obligated to defend himself from the army of demon assassins his love had seen fit to sic on him. It seemed that every demon that had ever crawled between her skinny shanks was after his hide.

“Ow! Bloody hell, Slayer!” he bellowed, suddenly jerked from his reverie by the sharp toe of her boot connecting with his shin. He nursed the injured limb and glared across the table at her. “And just what the fuck was that for?”

They were attracting unwanted attention, but right now Buffy could care less. Her eyes were sparkling with a mixture of anger and tears as she glowered back at him.

“I asked if it meant anything to you!” she snapped curtly, darting looks of embarrassment around the diner.

“Did what mean anything to me?” Spike ducked as the uneaten half of her burger went flying past his head. Okay, his head injury must not be healing as fast as he’d hoped, because now she was looking immeasurably hurt in addition to violently pissed off. Suddenly a light bulb went on in his head and he flinched inwardly. This could get extremely messy if he didn’t utilize an enormous amount of finesse.

“Slayer… Buffy!” he amended hastily at her scowl. “Look here, luv. ‘T was one of the best shags of my unlife. You were bloody amazing,” he offered uncomfortably. ‘Mind-blowing, in fact,’ he thought irritably. Shaking off the intense glow of pleasure that being snug between this girls silky thighs had engendered, he muddled determinedly onward.

“So, yeah. It meant something to me. It was a bloody revelation. But it can’t happen again, can it? I love Dru, and you’ve got this… whole undying romance thing with Peaches.” He couldn’t hide the shudder of distaste that shook him when he pictured the Slayer’s perfect little body rutting with his grandsire.

“Oh, absolutely. You’re right, it can’t happen again,” she parroted his words back at him, her expression blank and completely closed off to his discerning eyes. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for his permission or giving him a chance to dog her footsteps, she was up and on her way towards the short hallway in back of the diner.

Spike buried his face in his hands and slumped back against the seat with a tortured groan. Now, on top of the rest of the glorious mess that was his life, he had to come to terms with his changing feelings for the slayer.

On the heels of this revelation came the belated realization that he had just let his hostage go off- on her own- to use the loo. Cursing vilely, he tossed some money on the table and walked quickly towards the front doors.

The State Trooper flirting with the over-endowed waitress at the counter never felt his handcuffs being lifted by the light-fingered vampire.

~*~*~

Buffy hung suspended, her ass hanging outside the narrow window and her top half caught inside. Tears of confusion and frustration streaked her cheeks as she gave another twist of her hips and pedaled her feet against the side of the building.

“Stupid vampire,” she hiccupped. “Like I don’t know that it’s wrong to be all with the cuddlies with my immortal enemy. Ugh!” Another fruitless twist. “I mean, it’s not like I’m hoping for a cozy little tomb with a view. All I wanted to know was if it meant something!”

She shoved back with her hands and heard an ominous ripping sound before flying backwards out the window with a sharp scream.

To land with a soft plop in the strong arms of one extremely pissed off master vampire.

“Goin’ somewhere, sweetheart?” he snarled.

“Yes! I’m going home, so put me down, you ass!” Buffy flailed her arms and legs in a valiant but misguided attempt to be free. Spike did indeed drop her, but not onto her feet. Instead she ended up face down and screeching out her indignation over his lap. He made short work of snapping the pilfered handcuffs on her, effectively immobilizing her with her arms behind her back. “What the hell are you… AHH!”

His hard palm connected solidly with the curve of her ass. Repeatedly. First one side, and then the other. Buffy screamed and sobbed out her embarrassment at being punished like a recalcitrant four year old.

“You either shut it, or ‘m gonna whip these jeans down and give whoever comes runnin’ to save you a spectacular view of your flamin’ backside, luv!” he warned, applying his hand diligently while she twisted and flopped around like a trout in a net.

“Told you, din’t I?” Spike muttered through his fangs. He was thoroughly pissed off and in full game face while he tanned her bottom with a vengeance. “Told you what would happen if you tried anythin’ stupid and here you are, tryin’ to sneak off and makin’ me chase after your scrawny ass. How do you like that, missy?”

His hand came down extra hard with his last blow and before she could wail out the last of her pain, he whipped her upright and buried his fangs in her throat.

Buffy gasped. This wasn’t like the last few times he had bitten her. This one hurt! She flinched and quivered as he dug his sharp teeth into her, tearing at the soft flesh. His harsh growls and her whimpers of pain were the only sounds in the dank alley.

To her utter humiliation, she felt herself responding to his savage attack, a crippling wave of desire sweeping from her neck to her crotch. And she knew Spike was feeling the same, because he was moaning around her flesh and rocking his hips roughly into her warmth. Buffy fought but it was useless. Her climax burst through her, echoing through her body in a sonata of pure bliss that was only intensified by her vampire lover’s feral grunt of satisfaction.

Her vision blurred, swimming darkly and she cried out in a desperate attempt to get him to stop before he took too much.

“Spike!” she wailed.

The darkness claimed her and she knew nothing more.

~*~*~

He knew she was fine. Her heart was thrumming strongly in his ears as it labored with her slayer healing to replace the blood he had taken.

Spike checked the handcuffs again, making sure they were securely fastened around the iron rails of the bed. The rooms here were much cleaner than the last place. That was one thing she could stop yammering about, at least.

He smoothed her hair back, flinching when the ragged wounds in her neck glared at him. He flung himself away from her with a snarl. He shouldn’t care how savage he had been with her. Hadn’t he told her not to try to run away from him? She deserved what she got- a severely bruised bottom and his teeth marks gaping at her throat.

The pleasure aspect had stunned him as much as it had her. There was absolutely no intent to provide gratification in his bite, but she had gone off like a rocket just moments before he had spilled himself in his trousers like an inexperienced boy.

Baby had a little monster in her, that much was obvious, and to his dismay it called to his demon with a seductive lure that was well nigh irresistible.

Spike growled, hating the confusion that swirled inside him. Hating her, because for the first time in ever he was feeling guilt over his natural instincts as a predator, but more than that he was starting to question his devotion to Drusilla. How could he fall so completely under the Slayer’s spell if he was so in love with his sire?

Desperate for some violence to cleanse his mind, Spike threw open the door and stormed off into the night.

TBC

Chapter Ten by Megan


Spike was so angry he could spit. He should have known as soon as he touched the Slayer his luck would go all to fuck. Three bloody hours and not a challenging tussle was to be had—at least not one that didn’t start out with the special brand of Buffy touch. There was a diner and a hotel, right off the bleeding highway, and not a demon in sight. It was perfectly good pickings, particularly with the regular stopping of tour buses and the like, so what were they bloody doing missing the chance? Had evil gone on holiday and not told him?

Spike felt like punching every human he walked past on his way back to the room—the dreaded room where he was right back at square one with a restrained and no doubt furious slayer. His head hurt like a bitch just thinking about it.

Then it hurt some more as he was slammed from behind and his head cracked the wood of his door. His demon was instantly enraged; Spike pivoted and grabbed two slimy little green bastards around the throat and then howled in pain as their skin shed and seemed to melt into his flesh in a freezing attempt to incapacitate.

Right, he wanted a challenge, didn’ he? He could kick the shit out of these two snots and still be in time to be ripped apart by the Slayer’s mean glare. He chuckled then roared threateningly as he reached down into his boot and pulled out a long bladed knife. Never leave the car without it, he thought almost viciously as he started slicing up the air, his strikes without plan and rhythm. His arms flew as he screeched and stared at them with flashing amber eyes, the two stepping back in fear of the psychotic karate kid possessed vamp.

“Tell Dru she needs to calm down and stop sending her posse after me.” He sliced an arm off one of the demons and they all stopped the dramatic show to watch it fall to the floor and another regenerate in its place almost immediately. “Well that’s not bloody fair,” Spike whined just as he struck forward and slashed off a head. The other collapsed howling as Spike paused, waiting to see if another of those would pop out of this thing’s shoulders, almost collapsing in relief when it didn’t. It was his hard and fast rule that most blighters weren’t coming back from a full head lobotomy.

He turned a potent glare at the remaining slimy beast and fought off his disgust. It was collapsed beside the body of its…what? Mate, partner, buddy, lover? Spike couldn’t give a fuck, just as he realised he was bloody sick of these games and it was time to force a little distance. Maybe if he got off the main drag, found a little hidey hole in the backwaters of California, he might be able to relocate some peace.

He felt like his motivations were completely tied in knots. Here he was, trying to bring Dru the snack to beat all snacks, and she was sending every foul monster after him. Hadn’t he suffered enough by watching her invite all these revolting breeds to plunder between her legs? Wasn’t like he’d even been granted more than a sniff—on second thoughts, not even that—since long before he was confined to that menace of a wheelchair.

His jaw ticked in frustration. She didn’t want him? Fine. What was he doing working so hard to bring her the Slayer? The bint may have destroyed his car, might be playing havoc with his heart and his sense, but she hadn’t sicced some deranged Cujo monster onto him. She’d been pretty damn compliant until she’d tried to sneak out on him.

That she’d tried to do that made Spike so mad he almost felt like tearing her to shreds. She’d run that risk when he’d returned after finding nothing to take out his frustrations on. Seemed Dru’s minions had saved her from his wrath. Ironic, considering who the spitfire was for.

Spike chuckled as he shot one final glance at the pathetic thing at his feet, sobbing in a particularly unmanly fashion. He was almost positive the other one had been male, too. Bloody liberal demons.

“Tell Dru…tell her to bugger off or I’ll forget I love her and that I’m tryin’ to get her back.”

The demon looked up in shock, stared at Spike as if he were particularly retarded, then shook his head and squelched away. When he was across the car park and with the engine of his very ordinary ride thrumming along happily, he wound down his window and glared hatefully at Spike.

“She doesn’t want you back, moron. She’s trying to kill you. Are you some kind of halfwit or what?”

He put pedal to the metal at Spike’s roar of outrage as the vampire began to sprint after the rapidly disappearing vehicle. Spike growled as the idiot almost fishtailed into oncoming highway traffic and then disappeared into the lightening night.

Spike came to a frustrated stop, knowing that as much as the demon deserved to have his head ripped off for saying such things to him, it was true. Dru was trying to kill him. Maybe if he’d been alone it might have even worked. He was bound to get the message eventually and let one of them just put an end to his misery. But he had Buffy along for this ride, and that seemed to alter his levels of determination.

Spike straightened, rolled his head on his neck until he heard a reassuring crack and then stared at his dented hotel room door. She was waiting for him behind there, possibly murderous though he was sure he could calm her down. His first carefree smile of the day came at the vision of how he’d calm her down—only to rile her right back up again.

He was so confused about this. He couldn’t deny that feeling Buffy surround his cock earlier in the night had been enough to make him melt, made him want to thrust harder and deeper just to stay in her heat. On the other hand, he was in love with Dru. Maybe. Or at least, yes, he was, absolutely still in love with his sire and partner of over a century.

What he needed was to sort all this out in his head, take the complication somewhere a little more remote so that he wouldn’t be found again so quick. Then he could have some time to not only make a decision, but also have some fun.

With a wicked smirk, Spike let himself back through the damaged door, feeling even more light and carefree as he encountered a still passed out slayer. Right then, only one way to wake her up and guarantee she wouldn’t be completely brassed off. A determined stride took him close to the bed. Nimble fingers undid her pants and relieved her of them, as well as her boots. The smell of her pussy and her previous release almost had him harder than rock and Spike salivated.

He looked up the length of her body, smiling in satisfaction that even in sleep she configured her form to best accommodate his attentions. Her legs fell naturally apart and Spike’s eyes gleamed in hunger as her nipples pearled and puckered up against the thinness of her shirt. It sharpened his arousal, made him lust for her taste and he found his lips lowering as if in a trance to the hypnotic fluid glistening around her channel.

He growled deep in his chest as his tongue slid passed his lips and flickered against her readied flesh. He licked her lips and then his own, relishing the taste of slayer arousal solely for him awash in his mouth. His hand curled around her thigh, pulling her silky flesh to rest against his cheek as he alternated nibbling and sucking on her clit to painting her walls with his saliva. He lapped at her again and again, his teeth evincing tortured moans as he scraped them across her heated spongy walls, his tongue poking as far along as he could reach.

He was aware the exact second she worked out what he was doing, very slowly sliding out of a dream state and falling red-blooded and hot into wakeful fantasy. Her thighs suddenly squeezed his head as her body started to writhe against his tongue, her arms jerking frantically at their cuffed bracelets around the bed head and her lips releasing the sexiest little mewls he’d ever heard.

He couldn’t bear the tightness of his jeans any longer, his cock almost shedding its outer layer in desperation to be encompassed in her molten depths again. He shoved her thighs apart and sunk into her like a knife through melted butter, and he shuddered as she sucked him in and melted around his cock like cheese on bread. And all these metaphors were making him bloody hungry—as if he hadn’t even feasted on her earlier.

On his knees he was thrusting shallowly into her excruciatingly tight passage, the vision of her breasts frustratingly hidden by the shirt he couldn’t whip off over her bound arms. In a show of masculine depravity, he grabbed it at the shoulders and tore it from her body, fabric shreds hanging from her suspended arms.

“Hey!” Buffy objected. “That was my only top, dumbass.”

Stupid bint thought he’d snag her without a bag of feminine necessities to make his trip less fragrant? Spike grinned wickedly, bucking his hips against her as he bulged against her walls, continuing the friction of his thrusts as she forgot about the shirt and moved in time with him. Her legs came up to surround his waist, riding him as best she could from below his body. He could feel the smoothness of her calves as they rubbed his ass, slipping too and fro against his body as he rammed all of himself inside her.

The sensation of her tiny flutterings against his cock made him laugh—carefree and fun, that’s what he was when he was with her. He could sense her need to come, could feel the tightening in his balls as his cum followed the flute of his cock and blew a melodic tune as he pumped rapidly into her tightening pussy.

It wasn’t one shot in the dark, nor was it two. Spike jetted continuously as he succumbed to the lure of her perky nipples, biting them and sucking them deep in his throat, his cock pumping and pumping as Buffy exploded around him, her pelvis tipped to receive as much pleasure as he could give. And still he came, his cock slipping smoother and longer as her juices mixed with his. It was the longest orgasm of his life and he felt nearly crippled by it, laughing jubilantly as he realised his words to her in the diner. Best shag of his life, alright. He seriously doubted anything could top this.

Finally he slumped exhausted on her just as Buffy screamed his name once again and her body surged in another rippling crescendo. Spike smirked against her chest, his tongue swirling around her nipple as a hand swept circles around her navel. Fuck she was gorgeous, responsive, a bleeding marvel of sexual chicanery. Yeah, isolating themselves for a bit was a truly brilliant plan. After over a century he was bound to strike upon one that worked eventually.

She gasped and whimpered beneath him and Spike wasn’t even slightly inclined to get up and ease the weight of his body from hers. Not when his cock was already swelling inside her despite the ridiculously thorough work out it had already received.

“Never happen again, my ass,” she spluttered while still panting heavily. “You so lied.”

Spike levered himself up on his elbows and looked at her. There was no admonishment, no violent sense of rejection and he grinned.

“What did you expect, baby? I’m baaaaad!”

TBC

Chapter Eleven by Tam

Buffy woke to soft platinum curls burrowing into her belly while a rich purr vibrated from the lips resting at her navel down to her exhausted crotch. Strong, cool arms wound around her hips to hold her in place when she squirmed in reaction.

At some point during the previous night’s sex-capades, Spike had removed the handcuffs from her wrists. Buffy caught a glimpse of them dangling from the headboard and blushed hotly when she recalled using them to restrain the endlessly horny vampire. The blush turned into a full-body inferno as she remembered the wicked things she had done to him with her tongue.

Almost unwillingly, her fingers threaded through that angelic mop of curls, stroking idly. She should be snatching a handful and jerking him away from her, but the urge to kick his oh-so-delectable ass had recently been replaced by the overwhelming urge to…well, not.

There wasn’t an inch of her body that wasn’t feeling the effects of last night’s debauchery, including her still painfully red ass. The fact that Spike had spent an inordinate amount of time feathering apologetic kisses over said abused bottom had left her only slightly mollified. She fully intended on getting back at him for that stunt. In fact, she really should be plotting her next escape attempt instead of being a slayer-shaped teddy bear for William the Bloody.

Eventually it was an urgent need for the bathroom that drove her to peel the blissfully snoring vampire off her. He growled sleepily in protest, but she managed to unwind his arms and slip away to the bathroom. Of course the next logical step was a much needed shower. She took her time, languishing under the heated spray long after she was clean.

Feeling much refreshed, she wrapped herself in one of the threadbare towels and poked her head around the door. Seeing that Spike was still sprawled on the bed, she crept out and hastily snatched up her clothes. She made an ‘ick’ face as she held up the shredded blouse and dirt smeared jeans. Ugh! No way was she putting those nasty things back on her body! Dropping them to the floor, she sent them flying into the corner with a petulant kick before flopping down on the edge of the bed.

Only to be pounced on and dragged beneath a wide awake and amorous Spike. Buffy squealed in protest, clutching her miniscule towel to her breasts like an offended virgin. “Spike! Stop that,” she demanded, slapping at his wandering hands and scrunching her shoulders up to hide her neck from his seeking mouth. Undeterred, he contented himself with nibbling along her cheek to her ear.

“Mmm. Christ, you smell delicious, Slayer,” he purred happily, capturing her earlobe for a good suck.

Buffy gasped and squirmed. “C’mon, Spike. I just took a shower!” she whined, cursing herself when her knees fell apart beneath the sly twist of his hips. A husky moan shuddered through her as she felt the insistent prod of his thick cock against her slickened lips.

Giving up on her neck for the moment, he focused instead on kissing the pout from her lips. “So, you’ll take another shower. I’ll even wash your back,” he offered generously, savoring the plump fullness of her bottom lip.

The sudden image of naked Spike twining around her in the shower, his sleek body bedecked in frothy soap bubbles, brought a fresh surge of arousal. She ruthlessly squashed the sanctimonious little voice that was questioning her easy acceptance of this vampire between her thighs and surrendered her scanty towel without a whimper.

~*~*~*~

Spike washed her back. He also washed her front, her hair, and spent an inordinate amount of time making sure that her crotch was squeaky clean. By the time the hot water ran out, Buffy was barely speaking coherently and had to be carried back to bed by a smirking vamp.

She was still draped face down on the mattress when he came back from the car and dropped a bulging duffle bag on the foot of the bed. Peeling open one eye, she looked at it and glared up at him.

“That’s mine. How did you get it?” she demanded. The thought of clean clothes gave her a sudden burst of energy and she was on her knees and digging through the contents eagerly. Her jaw dropped in stunned disbelief when her hands closed around a familiar ball of pink fur. She pulled it out and Mr. Gordo’s black button eyes stared up at her placidly.

“H-how did you get this stuff from my room?” she asked.

“Wasn’t hard. Still have that invite you’ve never taken care of, don’t I? Climbed through your window and nabbed a few of your bits and the toy.” He refused to meet her eyes and ran a hand nervously through his hair. His voice dropped to a discomfited rumble that she almost missed, “left a note for your mum.”

Buffy gaped at him. “You left a note for my mother?” she shrilled.

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled. “Din’t want her to worry about you.”

“That’s…well, it’s actually kind of sweet of you, Spike.” Then her hands raked through her hair and she fought the urge to scream at him. “This doesn’t seem the least bit bizarre to you? You kidnap me with every intention of feeding me to the Queen of the Damned, but you leave a note telling my mom…what? That I’ve suddenly lost my mind and decided a road trip with you would solve all my problems?”

Spike looked affronted. “Not so far-fetched, is it? You took a runner last time when you sent Peaches to hell. Figured they would expect it of you by now.”

He quickly dodged the little pink porcine projectile she flung at his head. Eyes narrowed suspiciously, she faced him down, arms crossed beneath perky naked breasts. “Do I even want to know how you found out about Angel leaving?”

“What, it’s some huge bloody secret?” he laughed derisively. “Please! I could have told you months ago— back when I snatched the witch and the whelp— that this was going to happen. Dream all you want, gorgeous, but Angelus is never gonna be your long-haul guy. He’s not built that way. The only time he’s truly happy is when he’s miserable, and that sucked the life right out of you, admit it!”

“Oh, like you have any room to talk!” she spat. “Cruella De Vil wants your head on a platter and you’re still crawling back to her! William the Bloody: King of Denial!”

It took everything he had, but Spike managed to resist the urge to leap across the bed and pound her senseless. He gritted his teeth and rolled his head slowly on his shoulders, the familiar pop of tense muscles oddly soothing.

“Look, neither one of us is going to win this particular argument. Can we at least agree on that?” At her jerky nod, he continued. “Just get dressed. I’m gonna go take care of a few things and when I get back, it’ll give me great pleasure to plant your skinny ass on a bus and ship you back to Sunnyhell,” he snarled.

“How do I know you won’t just take off and leave me here?” she scoffed, her voice muffled by the t-shirt she was tugging over her head.

Spike paused in the act of opening the door and turned to glare at her. “Yeah. Have you seen my car?” he asked sarcastically. “You remember… Big. Black. The same car you single-handedly pounded into powder?”

“Uh huh, and I’m still going with you. Deal with it!” She knew he thought she was just being contrary, but she really didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts right now. Besides, she was the slayer. It was her duty to tag along and monitor his evil activities while making sure he wasn’t snacking on the locals.

Shoving her feet into her boots, she joined the impatient vampire at the door and followed him out into the night.

~*~*~*~

“Poker? I thought you said you were broke?” she asked skeptically. She was actually in a pretty good mood. It was amazing what clean clothes could do for a girl’s attitude.

Spike whirled on her and pinched her lips shut with his fingers. “It’s called bluffing, Slayer. Now, please, for the love of God. Shut. UP!”

Buffy scowled at him. “Sheesh, touchy!” she muttered and licked her abused lips. “And that hurt!”

In a heartbeat, she was pressed flat against a brick wall and being soundly smooched. When he finally lifted his head she stared up at him, dazed and panting. “What was that for?”

He shrugged self-consciously. “Figured I better kiss it better unless I wanted you to moan about it all night,” he tossed out with forced casualness, backing away and stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

Awww!

Buffy melted on the inside. On the outside, she pouted. “You don’t like it when I moan?”

Blue eyes swirled with a hint of gold snapped up to meet hers. “If we weren’t so pressed for time,” he rasped, crowding against her once more. “I’d drag you behind those crates and show you just how much I enjoy making you moan, sweetheart.”

She waited with bated breath for him to make good on his promise, but instead he was all business again, grabbing her hand and tugging her along behind him.

“Spike!” Her pout was for real this time.

“No time for that now, lamb. Gotta hurry. They lock the doors to this place once the table is full.”

After a few minutes, Spike came to a halt outside a rusted metal door and thumped it soundly three times. A small slot at eye level slid open to reveal suspicious red eyes.

“Passssword?” hissed a sibilant voice.

“Spongebob,” Spike answered, glaring at the slayer when she snickered. “Quiet, you!”

The door squealed open to reveal a hugely fat, flesh-colored demon with a tiny round head. “Oh, it’sss you, SSSpike. Dunno if the boysss will let you play after what happened lassst time,” the creature lisped. In spite of his less than jovial welcome, he motioned for them to follow him down a narrow flight of steps.

“What happened last time?” Buffy whispered as she stumbled along, her hands gripping the back of his duster tightly.

“Got accused of cheatin’,” Spike mumbled resentfully.

“You?” Buffy gasped and widened her eyes in mock disbelief. “Never!”

Spike slammed to a stop, his hand grabbing her wrist and squeezing tightly. “Go on ahead, mate. Just need to have a little chat with my bird.” When the demon disappeared through the door at the bottom, he turned on Buffy with a snarl.

“Look, this is the last time I’m tellin’ you to keep your mouth shut. These are some serious poker players and I’ll be damned lucky if they let me in instead of just killing me on sight. I’m takin’ a helluva risk here, and it’s for your benefit, so knock off the cute remarks, alright?”

Buffy swallowed hard and nodded, thoroughly chastened. “I-I’m sorry, Spike.”

“Good.” Slightly mollified, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “All you have to do is sit there and look pretty, yeah?”

It was hard to say which astounded her more; Spike telling her she was pretty or the bashful little kiss he brushed across her cheek before resuming their trek down the stairs.

‘He really can be awfully sweet, sometimes,’ she thought, fighting to ignore the sudden weightless feeling in her tummy as she followed him.

~*~*~*~

“I can’t believe you used me as collateral!” Buffy screamed, coming completely unhinged once they were back in the smelly alley. “Bluffing, my ASS!”

“I won, didn’t I?” Spike yelped as her fist connected with his nose. “Bloody hell, Slayer, cut it out!”

Trying to restrain her only seemed to piss her off more. Spike struggled to subdue her, endlessly grateful that she wasn’t packing a stake. Of course, that didn’t stop her vicious punches or her lethal little feet.

“Dammit! Would you just… OW!” Blocking a particularly ferocious kick to the groin, Spike finally lost his temper. “Enough!” he roared, grabbing her arms and shaking her like a rag doll.

Buffy finally subsided, chest heaving and tears streaking her pale face. She turned her face determinedly away so he couldn’t see how hurt she was. “Just when I think you’re not quite the asshole I thought you were, you do something like this,” she hitched out brokenly.

Jerking herself loose, she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle and put some distance between them. Spike gave her a little space, absently massaging his sore nose while watching her warily in case she went all damage bound again.

“Slayer. Buffy.” He grimaced when she flinched away from his seeking hand. “Come on, luv, don’t be mad. There was no way I could have lost that hand.”

Small consolation to the upset slayer. She turned to glare at him, her bottom lip wobbling pitifully. “Yeah, well if you would have, I would be playing Princess Leia to your friend Jabba the Hutt back there!”

Spike had to shake off a mental picture of a scantily clad slayer curled at his feet. ‘Now is not the time, you git!’ he chastised himself. He moved a little closer to her, encouraged when she didn’t skitter away from him this time.

“Shhh, you know I never woulda let that happen. You know the only one that gets to chain you up is me. C’mere.” He coaxed her closer and wrapped his arms gingerly around her. She held herself stubbornly stiff, but he could sense her anger subsiding under the force of his charm. “If I hadn’t been dealt that last ace, you and I could have taken on the lot of them and won, yeah? No way would I have let him walk out of there with you.”

Buffy sniffled, her angry resolve weakening further. “I suppose we could have,” she muttered.

“Right. And ‘m sorry I didn’t tell you my plan, but I knew there was no way you would agree to it.” He really did look contrite. And now he had enough money to send her home with plenty to spare, plus the ownership papers on a nearby farmhouse one of the other players had put up.

“Come on, kitten. Let’s head back to the room. Sun’ll be up soon. We’ll check out those bus schedules tomorrow, okay?”

Tired beyond belief, she allowed him to curl an arm around her shoulders and lead her away, uncomfortably aware that her heart sank a little at the thought of leaving him to go back to Sunnydale.

TBC

Chapter Twelve by Megan

Buffy woke up with tears on her face and kisses on her back. A sense of guilty denial was in her heart as she surrendered to the slow hand that drifted over her belly and settled around one straining nipple. She didn’t want to go home. Each time she thought of the bus, imagined herself sitting on it and travelling further away from Spike yet closer to her friends and family, the more she realised she didn’t want to. It wasn’t like last time—running because of the pain of loss. This time she felt like she was moving toward something and she couldn’t leave before she completely worked out what it was.

Spike shifted and Buffy could feel the smoothness of his torso as he pressed closer to her back, his hand plucking her nipple while the other squeezed around her waist and settled between her legs, teasing her slit to weeping and gently circling her clit. There was no other option but to part her legs, letting the top one curl up around his thigh as his long straight fingers stroked her repeatedly until tingling began deep in her belly. She couldn’t prevent the slow encouraging gyration of her hips against his hand, or the tipping back of her head to feel the lips of her vampire on her neck. And then his lips were on hers, his hand massaging her breast and the other driving her to the edge.

Before it hit, before she was rocked internally to incredible levels of awareness, he slammed his cock into her shivering tunnel and flipped to his back, Buffy lying back to his front with her legs spreading either side of his thighs. Slow gentle thrusts continued as her nipples were alternatively pinched and soothed, her clit stimulated to agonising hardness. Buffy felt his lips at her throat once again, his tongue cool against her burning flesh, her whole body thrumming with arousal and desperate need for that pinnacle that was dangled just out of her reach. She felt stretched, strummed and shattered, almost beyond the point of sense, and then it was there, almost a haze of psychedelic patterns before her eyes. Fangs scratched at her throat and Buffy was catapulted into an eager consideration of what it would feel like, with his cock pulsing in her pussy, his hands playing fine music on her body, and the sharp prick of his fangs as he marked her.

Her every experience with Spike had been polar opposites to those she’d shared with Angel, and despite almost dying—and knowing that THAT should have created a phobia she shouldn’t turn her back on—Buffy almost craved knowing how Spike could make it different. If he could make it feel good. As the sharpness lingered against her pulsing vein, Buffy felt almost disappointed that she’d have to give in and betray her need—give in and ask him to do it. Spike hadn’t asked permission of her for anything yet, and this was one thing that would almost kill her to express an interest in feeling. Yet he wasn’t…

Ahhhh, the slow sting as he penetrated and then her legs were pressing together to heighten the friction as he slid in and out of her, the head of his cock bulging against her folds each time he pulled almost all the way out and then forced his way back in again. His lips settled around the puncture marks and the slow seductive sip of her blood made her body burn red hot as Buffy called out her pleasure to the stars.

“Gahhhhhh…” she screamed, body seizing around Spike’s cock as she shuddered and shook before moaning her way back down to where she lay. Body slick with sweat, Buffy came back to earth with slow awareness that a smile so big had settled on her lips and she wasn’t able to budge it.

“Oh. My. God.” The slayer was as limp as a noodle, making Spike’s whole body her pillow as she gave into the lethargy and just flopped on top of him. It was kind of uncomfortable, and yet felt so amazingly good to be so relaxed with the slightly stiff appendage still lodged deep within her.

“Slayer—” he started, his gruff voice sparking little tingles to shoot through Buffy’s body like little devils looking for evil.

She didn’t want him to talk, didn’t want him to bring up her going back home so she twisted and planted her lips on his. Hungry kisses as their bodies uncurled from the previous knot and then settled into slow, languid nibbles. Buffy felt her lips numb from the high of doing something that felt so amazing, her fingers curled in back of Spike’s hair as his hand swirled little circles on her hip. This little bout of affection was a first, their usual being the more brutal attack as lust tore through bodies built for speed and roughness.

Buffy liked this, loved the shape of his mouth as he sucked on her bottom lip and then poked his tongue passed her teeth. Loved the taste of him as they sipped at each other. She felt her eyelids get heavier and her body start to hum with craving. She couldn’t be still, as his tongue slid against hers, as their lips continued to brush heavenly against the other, her body couldn’t stay still. Buffy could feel the heaviness of her breasts as they pressed harder against his chest, felt the brush of his leg hair as she rubbed the inside of her thigh against him before finding his hip.

“Buffy,” he whispered against her lips and Buffy felt her heart melt. Whatever this was with him, Buffy was loathe for it to stop.

“Shhh,” she answered before letting him slowly roll her to her back and slide snugly back into her warmth. They rocked slowly together, and when at last the final pleasure hit and Spike emptied himself inside her, Buffy felt like crying. If he dared open his mouth and say she had to go home so he could continue on to see Drusilla, she wasn’t going to hit him in the nose, she was going to kick it right through the back of his head.

“Pet?” Spike propped himself up on his elbows, staring down into Buffy’s shimmering eyes and felt the constriction of his heart. With a fond smile, he watched her struggle to regain control and commiserated with himself that his plans just never panned out. Not like he didn’t have plenty of warning of that. Not a one since he’d met the bint had reached fruition.

Her lips were addictive he found as he lowered is head again to peck them a kiss so sweet it made him purr. And then he found the invisible line that he loved to sample from her chin to her shoulder and every lick of skin in between. He was going to miss her when she left. No, he was going to feel more than that. He almost felt like he’d already lost a limb and he hadn’t even looked at the bus timetable yet. He had no idea of what he was going to do—did he stay and get his car fixed before heading back to try and make Dru see reason the best way he knew how? Or was he going to lie around this miserable hotel room and wonder what might have been if he had more courage to follow a dream?

The tears Buffy was fighting suggested that maybe the decision wasn’t entirely his and Spike felt a hitch in his chest that maybe she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet, either. Perhaps wasn’t as prepared as he thought to put this whole event behind her and move onto the next low-browed prancer she came across. And that thought hurt a whole lot more than he’d expected.

“I own a farmhouse, Buffy.” He looked at her earnestly, hoping that she wouldn’t make him say it. Hoping that she’d get that he wanted her to stay without making him force the words out of his mouth. An evil vampire admitting to the bint chosen to kill him and his kind was a crime he didn’t want to be guilty of. Even if it was the truth. Small steps he was willing to make, but that jump would have him in the middle of the creek and no sign of the ever abused paddles.

“I like farmhouses,” she admitted shyly and Spike felt himself melting in the gentle heat of her smile.

Spike heaved a huge sigh of relief, his arms tightening around her now that he knew he didn’t have to let her go. He could feel she was suffering that same desperation to cling to what they’d discovered, and it made him feel warm all the way on the inside. He’d never felt so in sync with Dru, especially not after he’d found Angelus between her thighs. Well, now he’d seen all manner of morons and demonic freaks giving it to her and he suddenly didn’t feel half as sorry as he had when he’d blasted out of there on the threat of ripped apart by too many of her paramours.

“Right, then. We should probably head out and have a look while it’s dark out.” Spike made as if to move off the bed and Buffy quickly linked her fingers around his neck and held him to her.

“You think there might be some food out there?” Her question ended on the growl of her stomach and she smiled in embarrassment.

She enthralled Spike with her subtly shy attitude. Asking him for food made her blush, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d seen cuter.

“Let’s stock up before we go out there. Might not want to leave for a while once we get there,” he suggested with a leer and a thrust of his hips against her tender lips.

Buffy promptly forgot any bus-shaped plans and jumped out of bed, dragging a naked Spike behind her.

“Better take another shower, too. You never know about farmy type plumbing.”

Spike studied her ass as it swung to and fro on the way to the bathroom, feeling a growl erupt from his throat as he dived on her, the two of them hitting the floor before the bathroom door. The plumbing could wait. He had further ravishing to dole out yet.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Whoa! It looks just like a farmhouse is meant to look.”

Spike eyed her strangely as Buffy stared in excited awe at the quaint little dwelling, a shaded porch complete with romantic swing seat almost making him groan.

“What were you expecting? Bloody Amityville Horror?”

“Well duh! You did win it off Mr. Freaky.”

Spike gave an exasperated hiss before rolling his eyes. “It was Mr Frinky, Slayer. Clean the bleeding wax out of those ears of yours.”

She squealed, nearly piercing his eardrums before launching herself across the seat and hugging him bone-crushingly tight.

“Oh my God, this is gonna be wild. Do you think there’s a fireplace? Ooh, how about a farm dog? There has to be a dog somewhere here, right? Or…or a cat,” she claimed, her eyes shining in elation. “Do you think they grow stuff?”

Okay, now she was scaring him.

“Buffy, luv. We’re not here to get all settled and homey. It’s just…a time out, yeah? Just a place to hide from Dru’s murder squad and for us to clear our heads enough to be able to go our separate ways.” It actually hurt to see her enthusiasm ebb and her disappointment in him seep into the wary green eyes. She slipped from his lap, hands letting go of his neck like he was puss, and she climbed from the car. Slow steps took her to the edge of the garden and while Spike watched, wondering why he didn’t staple his mouth shut sometimes, she passed beyond his view up onto the porch and through the front door. Lights flickered on inside and he finally cut the Desoto’s high beams before the battery went flat.

Would it have killed him to confess that Mr Frinky was a damn fine gardener and probably had a fully functioning veggie patch as well as chickens?

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Spike contemplated having a packet of cigs before he got courageous and went anywhere near her. As something crashed inside and a scream of pure temper reached his ears, he dragged out the cardboard box holding his nicotine habit to ransom and counted them out. Twenty-four. He just prayed it was enough.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

No matter how fast she brushed at them, Buffy found her tears replenished and multiplying. He is such an ass, she reminded herself furiously, sniffling and trying desperately to hold in the sobs. It shouldn’t have hurt, but after the past couple of days and the extreme happiness she’d felt being languished with attention and pleasure in his arms, she’d kind of convinced herself that he’d felt something, anything, and that he wouldn’t be rushing off to take back up with Drusilla.

Spike had managed to kidnap her right on the brink of seeing Angel walk out of her life. Somehow that had cut the impact considerably, and instead of her life descending into the pits of despair and depression, Buffy had found she was having fun fighting off Dru’s assassins and getting to know a side of Spike she’d never even considered a soulless demon possessing. He was cute, and sexy, and funny and he cared for her when he was concerned. Sure, he tried to physically better her often and he tied her up and cuffed her to beds and he’d come way close to killing her over the damage she’d accidentally caused to his car.

The point was, in just a few days she’d been shown another way of life and she so wasn’t ready to relinquish it—and she’d thought Spike was enjoying having her around. There had been a look in his eyes when they’d been intimate—no way was she going to jinx everything and say they’d been making that word—that had convinced her it was more than just a time filler. More than just scratching an itch, or dancing with death.

Was she wrong? The possibility filled her with rage and Buffy looked around until she could find something suitably ugly that not even the craziest demon could miss and found it in a disgusting oval orange vase. With a shriek she pelted it against the wall, feeling only a little bit better as it shattered all over the floor. Not until after the fact did she realise that she’d have to clean it up. But it gave her a purpose and hopefully she could cut herself so she’d think less intense thoughts.

The bottom line was that she’d been shown a way to deal with Angel leaving and it was a way that seemed sort of fun and maybe a little bit dangerous but she really didn’t think so anymore. As long as he didn’t revive his plan to take her to Dru, then maybe things could be okay.

This house bought them time, bought them a chance to not only get to know each other, but to see if what they’d been experiencing was something that was really just out of the ordinary and almost ready to fizzle. The way her body began the awareness and mating buzz she knew it had to be more.

It was decided. Buffy wouldn’t budge until she knew what was going on. And certainly not until she’d learned a little about what it was like to grow up on a farm. She wanted to milk cows, plant carrots, and with any luck, kiss Spike into brainyness.

TBC

Chapter 13 by Tam

Just fuckin’ perfect.

Spike scowled from the shadowed safety of the porch while Buffy of Sunnybrook Farm flitted from barn to garden to hen house, chattering a mile a minute to the mangy cur that plodded happily at her bare heels. She turned at the barn door and gave him a cheery wave before disappearing inside once more.

‘What’s it take, mate?’ he castigated himself. ‘When are you gonna learn to keep your big gob shut?’

Last night, instead of whiling away the midnight hours buried balls deep in his slayer, he’d been relegated to the ugly plaid couch like a recalcitrant husband while the little woman slumbered in solitude behind the locked door of the master bedroom. Unless he wanted to spend another night ensconced on lumpy cushions, he’d better be doing some fancy apologizing for his runaway tongue.

Which he would be more than happy to do if he could get her to come back to the bloody house. What the hell could she be doing out there?

~*~*~

Buffy grinned as she watched Spike pacing irately back and forth on the porch. She knew he was waiting for her to come back, but for now she was perfectly content to sit up in the haymow, soaking up the sun with a lap full of kittens while mama kitty took a leisurely bath.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so at ease with herself. How many times since being called as the slayer had she been able to just sit and do nothing but breathe and bask in the sunshine? Cemeteries at midnight had been her venue for the last few years and if she wasn't patrolling, she was cloistered in the gloomy library with Giles struggling to absorb some arcane demon lore that meant squat to her. Granted the library was gone now, along with the rest of the school, but she just bet the research would now be moved to Giles’ equally dismal little apartment. Once again; sunshine deprived Buffy.

It crossed her mind that she should be feeling guilty about not rushing back to defend the Hellmouth like a good little slayer, but she couldn’t bring herself to care very much. Giles could preach all the doom and gloom and dire predictions he wanted, but one fact remained. The Hellmouth had been there since the beginning of time and it would be there long after her death. Why was it her job to baby-sit that sulfurous pit when none of the other slayers had ever had to?

Mama kitty decided to leave off swabbing her furry face and nudged her way onto Buffy’s lap with her babies. Buffy giggled when the cat graced her petting hand with grateful swipes of her raspy tongue.

A contemplative expression swept over her face and she shot another glance at the still restlessly pacing vampire. An all-over flush that had nothing to do with the warmth of the sun’s rays prickled over her entire body. She’d noticed that Spike’s face wasn’t the only thing that changed when he vamped. The tongue that worshipped her throat after he’d bitten her differed drastically in texture from normal, and she couldn’t help but wonder how the rougher aspect would feel if it explored other parts of her body.

Gently pushing her lap free of kittens, she rose to her feet and made her way to the loft doors. She leaned her body languidly against the doorjamb and pressed her face against sun-warmed wood, waiting for her vampire to notice her.

Her vampire.

Well, he was for now, anyway. Until she could convince him that Dru was a colossal waste of his time. He hadn’t come right out and said he’d changed his plans for her, but surely he had? The look in his eyes, the wealth of emotion in his every touch…could something that intense be faked?

Having no one but Angel to fall back on for comparison was turning out to be more of a handicap than she had anticipated. Not that they had anything in common besides lack of a pulse and a shared family tree. And Drusilla the faithless slut-bomb, of course.

The one time with Angel, first time jitters aside, had been a major disappointment. Oh, it had been sweet and romantic, all tentative touches and treating her like spun glass, and before being confronted by Angelus and the morning after from Hell, she’d held on to the hope that the next time would be better. Of course, since Angel had gotten more of a happy from it than she had, there never was a next time.

Spike, on the other hand…

There was nothing tentative about Spike. Just thinking of the ways he used that lithe, muscular body to enslave her was getting her all hot and bothered. That, and the way he was prowling back and forth on that front porch like a caged panther, those blue eyes smoldering as he glared up at her.

Guh!

There was more standing between them than the length of the yard and the blazing sunshine that bathed it, but at this moment, she really didn’t care. This place, this little farm in the middle of nowhere, was their haven from the world and she intended to take full advantage of it.

The fact that they were totally isolated here suddenly occurred to her and a feline smile curved her lips as she pushed away from the door’s edge. Her clothes were suddenly unbearably itchy where they lay against her skin. Catching Spike’s eye, her fingers moved nimbly down the row of buttons that closed her blouse. She peeled it slowly open and let it slide off her arms. The scrap of lace masquerading as a bra went next, dangling from a saucy finger before fluttering down to join the shirt.

If she hadn’t had his undivided attention before, she certainly had it now. Spike had skidded to a halt when the first button came undone and was staring up at her, completely dumbfounded by her sudden loss of inhibitions. When the bra wafted to the floor, she allowed him a brief glimpse of her bared breasts before coyly giving him her back and shaking her ass tauntingly. A soft snarl escaped him as she began to slide her denim Capri’s over her hips, wriggling much more than was necessary. It escalated to a full-throated growl that rumbled like thunder across the yard between them when she stepped out of her pants and stood there in nothing more than the red lace of her miniscule thong.

She slipped her thumbs under the waistband and turned to face him once more as she did a little dip and shimmy, her pert breasts bobbing and her skim limned golden by the sunlight.

It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Half-crazed with lust and hard enough to pop the brass buttons off his Levis, Spike stormed into the house and snatched the cozy pink quilt from the couch. Swirling its protective folds around him, he hit the door at a dead run.

Buffy shrieked at the sight of a smoldering, pink-flowered blob streaking across the yard towards her and ran to hide herself in the musty darkness of the hay loft.

~*~*~

Spike barreled through the barn doors and ripped the smoking quilt from his back. Tossing it to the dirt floor, he stomped out a few errant flames, swearing all the while. The cows and horses housed in the stalls looked on with calm acceptance.

“Stupid bint! Makes me sleep on that instrument of torture all night and then has the balls to do a fuckin’ strip-tease.” Okay…maybe ‘balls’ was the wrong word. Definitely no room for balls in that little smidge of lace she was wearing, but still… And where the hell did she learn that little trick?

It was eerily silent as he moved stealthily upwards, and there was no sign of the slayer. A sly grin curved his lips. Thought she could hide from him, eh? Not bloody likely! Not with the tantalizing fragrance of Eau de Slayer in Heat tickling his sensitive nostrils.

A scrap of red draped over a stack of hay bales told him he was on the right track. He snatched it up, burying his face in the damp lace with a lustful snarl. Following his nose into the darkest corner of the loft, his eyes narrowed as he found his prize.

Buffy lay back in a pile of straw, a small piece of it dangling from her fingers as she nibbled delicately at the end. Her hair was charmingly tousled and a fine sheen of sweat covered her silky limbs. One eyebrow arched when he slipped into view, his eyes blazing yellow in the faint light.

“What took you so long?” she queried. Stretching indolently, she allowed her legs to fall open. One slim finger trailed down from her collarbone and came to a stop just above her mound, tracing idle circles. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

“You might have considered a little thing called sunlight, Slayer!” he roared at her.

Even the animals below were picking up on the sexual tension crackling through the air, but neither of them noticed as Spike stalked towards her, ridges prominent and fangs bursting forth.

Buffy shrugged, unimpressed by the show of his demon. Her hand wandered lower, two fingers delving through the sparse curls and parting the soaking lips to reveal the pearly-pink flesh within to his hungry gaze.

“You’re…inventive. I knew you’d figure out a way to get here if I gave you the proper…incentive,” she purred. Her fingers slipped lower, gathering up the slick moisture and spreading it over her throbbing nubbin.

Spike reached down and tore open his confining jeans and his aching cock sprang out, straining towards her like a divining rod. Dropping down on all fours, he prowled through the musty hay until he loomed over her. When he started to shake off his demon, Buffy stopped playing with herself and held up her hand in restraint.

“Don’t. I want all of you this time.” Ignoring his lethally sharp incisors, Buffy slipped a wet, questing digit past his lips. ‘God, I love it when I’m right!’ she thought with a blissful sigh. “I want you to show me,” she murmured as she stroked his roughened tongue, painting it with her juices, “how…inventive…you can be with this.”

Catching her wrist, he pulled her finger from his mouth, curling his tongue around it in a sensual caress before it slipped free. Holding her gaze, he lapped at her soft palm, wetting it thoroughly before lowering it to his throbbing column of pale flesh.

“Think you can handle it?” he hissed when her fingers took initiative, wrapping tightly around him and gliding up and down with a torturous lack of urgency.

A look of carnal delight swept over her face and she hummed in appreciation as she leaned in to nuzzle his ridged forehead. Moving down, she licked his jaw and gave it an impudent nip before pressing her lips to his in an almost ridiculously chaste kiss.

“I’m dying to find out if I can,” she whispered with a wicked smile at her play on words.

Spike pulled reluctantly from her needy grasp and moved down her body, dipping his head and licking a burning path to her center. He wasn’t sure where her sudden need to explore the more demon-y aspect of his personality had come from, but he’d be damned all over again before he passed up an opportunity like this.

Buffy arched at the first swipe of his slightly raspy tongue over her folds, a high, quivering sigh clawing its way free from her throat. Her hands tangled in his hair, relishing the softness between her fingers.

“Like that, do you?” he chuckled. It was a little bit difficult to go at her without nicking her girly bits, but judging from the very loud moans of approval she was emitting, he was more than getting the job done. Didn’t take much, either. The girl was strung so tight that a few deft licks and one good, hard suck of her button set her off with a howl of rapture. Whipping his head to the side, he buried his fangs in the soft flesh of her thigh, the sting of pain sending her rocketing off into a state of euphoria.

She barely gave him time to close the tiny wounds before she was tugging at his shoulders, urging him up her body and cradling him between her thighs. There was the tiniest twinge of disappointment when the demon melted smoothly from his features, but it was quickly forgotten when he swooped down and captured her lips in a toe-curling kiss.

“God, Buffy…drive me crazy.” He butted against her, wetting his cock with her creamy essence. An agile twist of his hips and he was buried to the root, scorched by her snug depths.

“Ungh! Already…there,” she panted breathlessly. She wound her arms and legs around him, clinging to him like a velvet vine as he filled her, stretching her to the point of delicious pain.

He began to move, slowly at first but soon setting a punishing rhythm that had her gasping and clawing at his back. It was a raw and animalistic coupling, both of them using their bodies to express what their voices couldn’t. When he felt her walls quivering around his girth, Spike jerked her head to the side and struck. The prick of his fangs sliding home at her throat flung her over the edge, his name ripped from her in a harsh scream of release.

Buffy found herself suddenly consumed by the need to mark him in some way as well. Disdaining Drusilla’s marks, she sank her teeth into the bulge of muscle that covered his unbeating heart. Spike roared at the intense pleasure, coming hard as her teeth tore through his skin.

He collapsed against her, his weight pushing her deeper into the fragrant straw. His tongue found the ragged mark at the base of her neck and bathed them languidly. Satisfied that the bleeding was stopped, he rolled over onto his back, dragging her with him.

They finally noticed the restless movements and frantic calls of the livestock below them. The cows were bellowing, the horse was rearing up in its stall and whinnying shrilly, and even the chickens had gone mad with the cackling.

Spike picked a piece of hay out of his ear and frowned at it. “Feels like I’m in the middle of a bloody Ace Ventura movie!” he groused.

Buffy’s laughter pealed through the twilight.

TBC

Chapter Fourteen
By Megan

A frantic chicken found its way up into the loft and came hurtling with its terrified cackle straight at Spike’s groin. Its beak pecked his privates before it squawked and was shuttled forcefully to the nearest wall.

“Bloody hell, what’s got the feather flock all a flutter?”

“Ooh, don’t say that five times fast!” Buffy shot out around her giggles before being forced up when the particularly loud bellow of a cow had them both jumping over the side of the loft and to the lower floor. “Oh crap.”

Spike swivelled his head to look at her, and caught the wave of her breasts as she sucked in some deep breaths and then covered as much flesh as she could with her hands, an embarrassed blush tinging her cheeks.

“None of that now, Slayer,” he leered. And then they were forcefully made aware of the slobbering cow munching monster that held a heifer under its gigantic arm. Its eyes were monstrous, as big as saucers and shining a vomit shade of green while its gaping maw showed off row upon row of sharp teeth. The jaw snapped threateningly and then it raised the quivering animal and prepared for the first bite.

Buffy gasped, eyeing the poor doomed animal with something akin to horror. “Put that cow down, you…you…cow killer!”

The thing turned to them, its eyes almost hypnotic as it focused precisely, opened its great slashing food hole and blew them to the back of the barn with its powerful growl. Buffy hit her head against the wall. “Owwww.” And without a second to recover, she was on her feet and running, hastily grabbing at the farming pitch fork leaning against the wall as she catapulted forward. She never even got to grip it before another almighty horn-like gust of ear shattering roar had her flipping head over heel back to stop beside Spike.

“Really need to go at it together, luv. Need to split its attentions so it can only blow one of us at a time.”

Buffy’s eyes were wider than usual. “You can let it blow you all you like, Spike. But no way are those teeth coming anywhere near my personal places.”

Spike growled at her good-naturedly, then he was on his feet with his hand gripping her arm. “On the count of three. One. Two. Th—”

“Arrrgggghhhh,” Buffy yelled as she took off at a sprint, pitching fork up and ready for a swing.

“Bloody hell,” Spike spluttered as he dived into the attack. He was too late and Buffy was sent flying over his head, her hands stubbornly clinging to the fork. He changed trajectory and went around the beast, skidding to a halt just shy of the sunny doorway.

“Don’t be such a bitch, Slayer.” His eyes bugged as slimy opened its jaws to take its first beefy bite before noticing Buffy’s third attempt at an attack.

“Not a bitch, Spike. You just count too slow!” And she was about to be swiped toward oblivion again before Spike got a move on. He reached the monster and attempted a flying kick, his manly bits flapping wildly in the breeze before almost being gored by the vicious thrust of the pitchfork as it pierced through the cow-killer’s throat. Buffy followed the forceful blow at a run, barely sidestepping the falling mammal as she forced the foe to the perimeter, slamming the prongs into the wall and cringing at the squelch of flesh and blood and muscle.

Silence for almost two seconds and then the cow righted itself, bellowed in delayed terror and skidded for the door. Buffy just got out of the way as it barrelled into the sun, mooing for all it was worth.

Buffy turned to Spike, her narrowed eyes pinning him where he stood. “Now, let’s deal with you calling me a bitch.”

Instead of being worried, Spike noticed things. He noticed that her blood was running fast and furious through her veins from fighting, and he noticed the rise and fall of her breasts as she panted from the high tension of the fight. And most important of all, he noticed the sweet scent of her emit into the air as she clapped angry eyes upon him. And he leered.

“Let’s not.” He pounced, slamming her back into a wooden pole holding up the loft. A groaning sound made him urgently alter course and he flung her to the ground before jumping on top of her and sliding his cool hard muscle to the very depths of her.

“Spike!”

God, he loved it when she squealed.

“Yeah?” He pumped, his hips thrusting hard while his hands were planted on the floor either side of her head. She had hay in her hair, and it was tousled sexily like it should have been from a night shared in bed. But, he was seeing all kinds of benefits to this farmyard deal.

“I-I think…ugh…Dru’s…God, there…assassins found… YES!” she screamed and Spike felt like howling at the grip on his cock. She clamped down hard and he couldn’t move, caught in the happiness that shone from her green eyes. Calming slightly, she released him and he got to work sliding and slipping within her, feeling the tiny vibrations of sensitive muscles against his hardened flesh as he worked to reach that end that she’d disappeared for a moment in.

She wasn’t supposed to be happy. How did he manage to do something like that? He’d kidnapped her with the sole intent of feeding her to Dru, making up for all the times the faithless bitch had found reason to doubt his devotion to her before diving between some other slimy demon bugger’s bed sheets.

His plan had nosedived as soon as they’d made their first stop. She was fun. Not just to bury himself inside of her heat, but also her mouth that let escape all kinds of snarky insults and challenges. He enjoyed being around her and the closer they got to where Dru was probably still shacked up with the Demon That Oozed, the more he felt like slowing down and detouring for awhile. Lady Luck was apparently on their side as the farm house had fallen easily into his hand.

Now he was playing Farmer Joe and despite the wide open sunlight everywhere he looked, he was enjoying it. More than an evil demon with death of the Slayer on his mind should be.

He’d slowed his movement during his thoughtful journey, but now the heat of her pussy scorched him and he felt almost desperate for some kind of relief. Twisting his hips as he pumped, Spike felt a mini-explosion near tear off his skin as he came hard.

Buffy moaned, the rush of his seed quenching a need that neither of them were willing to admit to each other.

“You want to leave?” He couldn’t believe how much he wanted her to say no. He felt like he needed to be here, that something big would be revealed if he showed some unaccustomed patience.

He carefully kept all expression from his face, waiting for Buffy to reply. His body rested gently in the crook of her thighs, his eyes peering nervously into hers. All the while he could feel the racing rhythm of her heart as it tattooed against his chest; could smell the scent of fear that he didn’t understand.

She stared straight at him as she quietly shook her head and whispered ‘no’.

The relief was tremendous and Spike felt his tensed muscles collapse, his body covering hers completely, heavily as he allowed whatever was doomed to influence them wash over their supine bodies. His lips settled against the curve of her neck and he nuzzled, trying to concentrate as the hard peaks of her nipples poked his flesh. Whatever this was, it didn’t feel wrong. Wasn’t quite right—but didn’t want to end.

Spike was in too much agreement at this point to mind.

“Right. Guess we need to be on the lookout for Dru’s little wanker brigade. Least it’ll give us something to kill.” He said it with a smirk, enjoying Buffy’s raised eyebrow reaction and waited for her denial of her prissyish need for violence.

Instead, she sighed and looped her arms around his neck, holding him comfortably against her. “Somehow I think no matter where we go, Dru’s goons are gonna find us. At least here we have a nice bed to sleep in.”

“Wouldn’t know about that,” he snarked. “If it’s as bloody comfy as the couch I’m ready to pack up the kit and move on now.”

She pouted. He was helpless against the pout. One long, delicious kiss later and he was willing to spend a month on the couch if it got him some ‘home-on-the-range’ action. Although this hay was prickling him in the not-so-nice places.

“Want to head in and see what other disasters you can get into?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

“Hey!” Buffy slapped him on the head with her hand and pushed his body up. “Let’s go, Romeo. And you better take more care of Grandma’s quilt on your way back inside. I’m gonna go have a shower, try and get rid of this itchy rash from the hay. You can join me if you’re quick!”

And without a ‘how do you do’, she bounced to her feet and took off at a run to the house, no mind to her nude state at all.

Spike felt bloody proud.

Walking right past the creature feature pinioned to the wall with a pitch fork, Spike picked up the garish pink quilt and followed. Just like every good vamp should do that was falling for a slayer.

And he wasn’t going to think about that for a good long while.

TBC

Chapter Fifteen by Tam

At the first scent of smoke in the air, Spike thrust his shovel into the earth and turned back to look at the house. Sure enough, there was a plume of black smoke rolling from the kitchen window. He heard the faint slam of the back door and saw the shadowy figure of his slayer run to snatch up the garden hose and feed it through the window. He sighed. Chef Buffy had struck again.

Domesticity had taken a large-sized bite of the slayers delectable ass. Her determination to master the fine art of cooking was going to end up causing them both to expire from smoke inhalation. Well…it would if he found it necessary to breathe.

She tackled cooking the same way she tackled everything else in her new life, including him. She was amazing, really. When she wasn’t reducing the kitchen to charred rubble or gleefully dousing every stitch of his signature black clothing with bleach, she was grubbing happily in the small garden and parading about the place like a modern-day Ellie Mae Clampett, every animal on the place trotting, waddling, or hopping at her heels. She might be Martha Stewart’s worst nightmare, but he couldn’t help but admire her tenacity.

And when the sun went down…well, all Spike could say was hallelujah for slayer stamina! She was a tigress in bed, insatiable and inventive. Hell, some of the things Buffy dreamed up made him blush. Her predilection for kink rivaled even that of Drusilla, but without the viciousness that had colored every aspect of his life with his sire. Spike couldn’t remember a time when he had been so sexually satiated, both man and demon.

Yeah, life on the farm was good, which was why he was fairly certain that something was bound to come along and fuck it all up for him.

Heaving the last of the blaz n’tighr demons into the grave, he began to shovel the dirt back in, still keeping a cautious eye on the house.

They had acquired quite the sizeable demon graveyard since that first cattle rustling demon showed up a month ago, and it didn’t look like Dru was going to give up anytime soon. Something different showed up every other night it seemed, but every cloud had a silver lining. Having something to kill once in a while kept the edge off for both of them. He knew Buffy missed slaying just as much as he missed hunting for a meal, but so far neither had felt the urge to broach the subject of her return to Sunnyhell.

If he had his way, she never would.

Returning to Dru with his prize had ceased to be an option long before he’d realized that the hoards of demons tailing him were part of her demented plan for revenge. If he were brutally honest, any desire to follow along with his original plans floated away into the ether the first time he’d lost himself in the sweet honey of that hot little mouth. She was his, every delicious inch of her, and he had no intention of sharing her.

He was becoming quite domesticated himself. As much as the thought would have horrified him a month ago, it now had the power to reduce him to a purring ball of fluff in her presence. William the Bloody was well and truly slayer-whipped.

After stomping over the grave to tamp down the soil, Spike gathered up his pick and shovel and headed back to the house, the dog that had laid claim to Buffy bounding along at his side. She was an ugly little beastie, but slavishly devoted to the slayer who had perversely gifted her with the name ‘Beauty’. She tried to follow him right into the house, but Spike nudged her gently back out with the toe of his boot.

The kitchen was looking slightly crispy when he entered, unable to hide his huff of laughter when confronted with two inches of standing water and a soot-smudged, water-logged slayer with wide, apologetic hazel eyes. Standing with arms akimbo, he smirked at the way her hard little nipples were showing through her sodden t-shirt.

“Aww, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have!”

She rubbed at her teary eyes with a grubby fist and gave a mighty sniffle. “I killed the stove, Spike,” she whimpered.

“That you did, luv, and a damned fine job you did, too. What was it? Demon possession, do you think? Or maybe evil faeries?”

In spite of her tears, she gave a snort of mirth. “More like it was possessed by the evil spirit of Betty Crocker.” Her bottom lip commenced to quivering again, though, when she aimed the stream of water at the still smoldering cake pan. The smell of scorched chocolate poisoned the air.

Spike gave in. He couldn’t stand to see her cry and he didn’t have the heart to tease her when she had obviously tried so hard to do it right. “C’mere, baby,” he cajoled. She flew into his outstretched arms without hesitation and allowed him to pet and soothe her as she sniveled into his t-shirt.

“I had this vision of the perfect romantic dinner for two and now it’s ruined,” she wailed, muffled by handfuls of black cotton. “First by those stupid blazing tiger demons and now by me and the flambé-ing of the cake.”

Spike completely dismissed her mispronunciation of the demon’s name. He was too busy battling the surge of hope engendered by the words, ‘romantic dinner’. Romantic implied something more than casual affection, something like love, which was something he didn't dare contemplate in regards to the two of them. It took him a few moments, but he finally managed to gather his scattered wits.

“Buffy…look at me, pet. That a girl,” he praised when she lifted her head. “You know I like human food, yeah?” Well, as long as it was his turn to cook. “But, unlike you, I don’t need it. I’m perfectly satisfied with my usual diet.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the recently healed bite mark on her neck and then leaned in to run his tongue over it, catching her as she arched against him. “’Sides, I’ve a hunger of a different sort right now.”

There was no mistaking his meaning as he tugged her closer by her belt loops and ground his erection into the crotch of her soggy shorts. Buffy perked up immediately, a kittenish smile chasing away the last vestiges of her culinary misery. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. In fact…” Nimble fingers made short work of her fastenings, drawing the zipper down with exaggerated slowness. He then swept the kitchen table free of pots and pans with a deafening clatter and had her boosted up on its floury top before her wet shorts even hit the floor. “I think I’m gonna have myself a little snack.”

“Spike!” She giggled and squirmed as she fell back under his insistent hand. Not too much, because what if he took her seriously and stopped? Oh, to hell with being coy. She tangled her fingers in his unruly hair and guided him right where she wanted him, whispering soft words of praise as he buried his face in her quim with a happy grunt.

It wasn’t long before his highly flexible tongue had her hitting notes that had Beauty howling along outside the back door. Buffy was flushed with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment as he grasped her hips and hauled her butt to the edge of the sturdy table.

Spike stared down at her, his eyes blazing with blue fire and jaw clenched with the effort of holding back. He loved taking her this way, her body spread out before him like a succulent banquet that only he was allowed to feast upon. His fingers tightened possessively, strong fingers curling into the ripe flesh of her bottom as he surged into her.

“Oh, God…yesss!” Her gasp at his sudden intrusion quickly turned into a rapturous moan and her arms flew over her head to anchor herself against his powerful thrusts. She gazed up at him through lashes that weighed heavy with desire, her moist lips swollen from his kisses and a fine sheen of sweat lying like sparkling dew across her rosy breasts.

They were rattling the hell out of the old table’s legs when they heard the dog barking and snarling, followed by a shrill scream of pain and fear. Pulling out of his slayer with a wet plop, Spike irritably yanked up his jeans and stalked for the door to see what monster Dru had sent to hassle them this time.

“You know, that scream sounds kinda familiar,” Buffy mused as she climbed off the table, her legs wobbly as she struggled back into her clingy shorts. She hurried after him, hoping that it was a something as simple as a stupid marauding raccoon so she could coax Spike into some soapy bathtub goodness upstairs.

“It should, you’ve heard it often enough,” Spike muttered with a snarl. “Bloody hell, Beauty. Get your teeth outtah that fat arse before he poisons you.”

“Xander? Is that you?”

TBC

Chapter Sixteen by Megan

Huge shocked mahogany eyes swept from the amused face of his most hated demon to the hard protruding nipples of the Slayer behind him.

“Buffy?” he directed at her chest. “Is that you?”

Not so long ago such blatant ogling from Xander would have wigged her out completely, but since partaking of the Sex Olympics with Spike and winning, Buffy felt a small measure of pride.

“Not so much concentrated in my boobies, Xan. Might want to notice the rest of me,” she quipped, holding hard onto the grin that was dying to burst forth.

He looked up, saw the flushed freshly sexed face of his best friend, and screamed. It set off snarling from two quarters, but only one of them was held back by Buffy’s hand.

“Beauty, stop that.” Buffy pouted, rubbing Spike’s back and hoping he’d get rid of the bumpies before Xander did something so humiliating that he could never look her in the face again. Not that staring blatantly at her breasts was a good alternative. Though she secretly loved the reaction from Spike at her being admired by another male. She’d think about that little fact further some other time when she could indulge the fantasies she didn’t believe would ever be her reality.

“B-Buffy? You know you’re standing next to Spike, right? The Spike that kidnapped me and Willow and held a broken bottle to her face?” Xander watched as Buffy aimed a fierce yet indulgent look at Spike, and then almost fainted at the return repentant hangdog expression. As Buffy placed her arm around Spike’s waist and gave him a gentle squeeze, Xander wondered if he’d stepped into some alternate universe and that he was really still driving happily along on his road trip instead of being broken down and nada with the funds and now apparently at the mercy of the weirdest sight he’d ever seen.

“Yup,” she confirmed his worst suspicions and Xander collapsed on the dirt, yelping back to his feet as the feral little doggie went for a mouthful of his leg.

A piercing whistle called the dog back and Xander attempted to relax slightly. His mouth opened, about to say something when he realised he had no idea what. No words could adequately cover this moment and he found he’d rather hike back to the main road and take his chances on burly truck drivers and amorous demon women. He left his mouth hanging open, pointing behind him down the farm drive, pointing back at Buffy and then Spike, again to the road and then himself.

And then he eeped like Willow and fainted.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It’s funny how little she’d really thought of home since Spike had taken her away from Sunnydale. How little she’d even thought of her friends. She’d made one phone call to her mom to let her know she was fine, and they’d joked about Spike kidnapping her and how it had ended up a massive failure, just like she should have predicted all along. Her mom accepted that after losing Angel—though that pain was quickly receding—and destroying her school in another bid to save the world, a little vacation was really not unexpected or intolerable. That conversation had left Buffy buzzed and eager to wrap herself in Spike’s arms and stay incognito until she couldn’t hide any longer.

The face of her wake-up call was just beginning to reanimate and Buffy felt a shiver of anxiety. This was the big test—a test she’d never even thought would be necessary as Spike dumped her on the side of the road and moved on. She’d refused to even contemplate what came next after they left this idyllic escape behind. Refused to dwell on the fact that her heart ached less for the loss of Angel but for the not quite having of Spike. Because once they drove on out—where did that leave her?

Buffy shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind, determined that Xander or no, she wasn’t going to lose any of the time she still had with Spike worrying about how her friend was going to take it. She’d seen him with bug ladies, resurrected mummies and an ex-vengeance demon. He so had no room to complain. If she wanted to make whoopee and fight demons with the undead, then who was he to stop her? To judge her?

Feeling much more confident, Buffy sought out Spike and almost melted at the insecure look he tried to hide behind an irritated smirk.

“Oh.” It was squeezed from her lips like a ghost-like whisper and Buffy finally had that tiny crumb she’d prayed for but never believed God would deliver. If he felt insecure about Xander’s presence, then that had to mean he was worried. And if he was worried, then perhaps it meant that he wasn’t ready to lose her. And if he wasn’t ready to lose her, then just maybe he wanted more than what they had and wouldn’t be on the first highway back to Drusilla, the Loon Queen and head of the Dust Spike Now squad.

Barely even realising that she’d moved, Buffy found herself in front of Spike, his suddenly bare expression of fear making her heart ache. She had no words, still lacking the confidence to verbalise her feelings, but she knew she was still good with the kissage. Staring straight into gleaming blue until the last moment, Buffy hoped that he got what she needed him to know. Her friend was here, yeah, but that didn’t mean she was ready to jump the first Xander-shaped escape route and hightail it home. Her arms curling around his neck, Buffy moved slowly closer until her lips just brushed against Spike’s and stayed. She relished the softness that barely moving allowed and felt a moan barrel its way up from somewhere deep and explode into his mouth. And then the need to taste him was overwhelming and Buffy opened her lips and allowed Spike to kiss her.

Slow leisurely strokes of his tongue had Buffy halfway to stripping him of his shirt, her fists tangled in the fabric and knuckles brushing against his skin as he buried his hands down the back of her shorts. Spike dug his fingers into her soft cheeks and dragged her against his hardness, then groaned as Buffy lifted a leg and curled herself around him. His cock settled into the niche between her legs and he wanted nothing better than to rip off the shorts—and this time they could bloody well stay off!—and fuck her until her friend’s arrival was a distant memory. He’d just managed to strip off her still damp shirt, almost purring as he dived into sucking her pert nipples and slipping his hand down the front of her pants, when a choked cry of alarm sounded out in the room. Fingers slipping into hot wet pussy convinced him to ignore it and he sucked voraciously, his teeth scraping over the hardened nubs as his finger found her clit and worked it over till he could feel it throbbing.

“For the love of God,” the boy shouted and Spike broke free of his tantalising snack and snarled in full demon fury.

“Oh God,” Buffy sobbed, now so thoroughly frustrated from two interrupted attempts to gain release that she took a mouthful of Spike’s neck between her teeth and screamed as she bit him.

“Arrggghhhh,” Spike roared and stared at the git that had taken away his fun. Well, he’d show him his bleeding place in this set up. Making no excuses, Spike picked up Buffy, sent a malevolent glare at Xander and then stalked from the room.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Xander stayed put until he heard the slam of the door somewhere down the hall from where he was and then hesitantly took to his feet. There had to be some kind of explanation to seeing Buffy almost mauled by that creature and her making no effort to fight back. What was he supposed to think? Was Buffy a vampire now?

Buffy had been missing for two days before they’d been warned by Mrs. Summers that racing off after her when they had no idea where she was or why she’d gone was beyond crazy. He could agree with her to an extent. They all knew why she’d left. Angel go bye-bye, so does Buffy, and Xander for one was pretty sick of her hang up. Angel had shown all of them how so wholly unworthy he was of her devotion, so it did nothing but stick in his craw that she’d need time and space away from her friends to cope with this latest development. While the party Xander had been planning might not have been the best idea he’d ever had, he’d thought it would surely be taken in the spirit it was meant. Maybe? But Buffy had left and well, he’d had more than enough of worrying about her mental state at Angel desertion. He’d thought she was intelligent—more than him at least. Wasn’t like Xander was all college bound come the new school year.

When Buffy’s mom had told them all that she’d heard from her wayward child, Xander had frowned then immediately packed up and commenced his road trip—which now had him broken down in Hell. Xander had been more than happy to odd job his way to gas and donuts, but he had an awful suspicion he’d have to sell his soul to get out of this one.

Warily he drifted down the hall, stopping and staring in horror at the door that seemed to bounce in its frame. If he couldn’t hear Buffy moaning in the way that had featured in all his dreams since he’d met her, Xander would have busted in there stakes a blazing.

Then he heard it and tried valiantly not to be sick all over the lovely polished floor boards. It was a good job. He’d have to have a proper look later when he wasn’t hearing “yes, Spike…harder, ugh…right there, gonna come!!” as someone slammed repeatedly against the door. His brain knew that Buffy more than likely now sported a lovely bruise on her rump from the doorhandle, but he was so shutting that visual out.

What could only pass for a vampiric roar of ecstatic happiness and release almost blasted him through the wood and Xander panicked, pivoting too fast and getting his feet caught on the edge of a hall runner and toppling to the floor.

“Ow ow ow,” he whimpered, desperately dragging himself back to the room he’d left before Buffy and Spike came out even less dressed than he’d seen them before.

As he settled back on the comfy couch, Xander could only hope that all that strenuous activity didn’t mean that Spike had worked up an appetite, because he already knew what a nummy treat he’d present. Especially now he was lamo boy with the sprained ankle.

How the hell was he going to get out of here now?

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Buffy had been lost in the feverish need to feel Spike inside her again. Inside her, against her…God, she just needed to feel what only he seemed to deliver. Somewhere quite distant she knew that giving into this wild abandon was no longer possible, but to abort the heady climb to orgasm twice was just beyond cruel and she had no brain cells left to contemplate why she couldn’t have what her body was burning to finish. Want. Take. Have. Those words resonated in some Cave Buffy part of her brain so she didn’t object when Spike took them on the move and relocated them in the bedroom they now more than happily shared.

It took mere seconds for Spike to release his cock from his jeans, slam her back into the closed door and tentatively search out her entrance. His sudden lapse to gentility had no place in this moment and Buffy sank down on him with a huge shudder of relief. As always, his girth stretched her and Buffy felt the delicious ache as she remoulded internally around him. She was so wet that he slipped about easily, his cock wide enough to offer her the best kind of friction. Mouth again at her breasts, Buffy was panting almost immediately. She was so close to the edge, so needy for him that when his fangs sunk into the soft tissue around her nipple, she exploded. Garbled words had been streaming from her mouth the entire time, but as soon as Spike gulped a mouthful of her blood, she splintered around him with shattering intensity.

One final thump against the door and Buffy cradled Spike’s slumped head in her arms. Whatever this was between them, it was deep and meant so much more to her than what it appeared. She knew the nature of this orgasm had been spurred on by the fear of loss—the terror that this was all they had left before Xander burst their bubble, and Buffy just couldn’t stand it. With the prickle of tears in her eyes, Buffy pulled Spike up to meet her gaze, hoping he saw more than the repletion of lust that had them both still gasping for breath.

Half way through their desperate kiss, Buffy remembered what her panic was about and she almost cried.

Down the hall, the looming shadow of life as slayer and daughter and friend.

Xander.

TBC

Chapter Seventeen


He awoke some time later to sunshine streaming in the oversized windows and someone nearby humming a catchy tune that was brimming with happiness. Staggering to his one good foot, Xander limped his way after the singing that was coming from the kitchen.

“Buffy?” he yelped at first sight of her. Okay…so the whole Spike turning Buffy and using her as his love slave theory was no longer an option. She was standing directly in a sunbeam with no smoldering in sight, her green eyes guarded as she stared back at him over her coffee cup. Oh, well, he could still hope that there was thrall involved.

“Yeah, Xan. What’s the what? How are things back in Sunnyhell?”

He couldn’t fail to notice that she hadn’t said ‘how are things back home.’ What in the name of The Great and Powerful Oz was going on here?

Throwing his substantial bulk down on one of the rickety wooden chairs, Xander leveled his most censorious look at the Slayers flushed face. “Care to explain the vampire snugglies, Buff?” he asked, neatly evading her enquiries about the status of the Hellmouth. He wanted answers and, by damn, he was gonna get ‘em. Well, as long as the threatening presence of the lethal fangs weren’t an issue. He could be brave guy. He could!

Only...instead of the usual hangdog expression she wore whenever she was confronted with her predilection for pulseless lovers, her firm little chin lifted and she arched an eyebrow in a way that was scarily reminiscent of a certain bleached punk of a vampire.

“Explanations are needed? Gee, Xander, I thought our actions last night pretty much spoke for themselves. You were standing right outside the door. Were we not loud enough to make our point?”

“Oh, yeah! You were loud enough to wake the dead, but…oh, wait! He was already in bed with you!” Xander spat. It did occur to him that he might possibly have gone too far with his jealousy this time, but it wasn’t until he felt a burst of cool air against the back of his neck that he realized that there could be some pretty ugly repercussions to his little speech. Once again, he had underestimated the otherworldly stealth, speed, and determination of the blonde vampire. In seconds he was jacked up against the kitchen wall with a face full of enraged Spike and his pointy teeth.

“You know what they say about people in glass houses, Harris?” The voice was soft and deadly. “Seems to be dead on with you, because I can pick up more than a few demon birds under your usual rank odor of sweat and donuts.”

“Ew with the sniffy thing. Hey, Buff…a little help here?” His eyes widened when she kept her face pointedly averted as Spike’s fingers tightened. “Please? Buff?” he sputtered around the hand squeezing his throat.

Buffy whirled to face him and opened her mouth for a scathing reply, but gave in at the sight of panicked brown eyes. “Let him go, Spike,” she ordered with a resigned sigh.

“Why?” he pouted. “It’s just now starting to get fun.”

“Geck! Glerk!” Xander garbled. His face was an alarming shade of puce.

“Because if you keep doing that his head will explode and my kitchen is a big enough mess, already.” Looking around at the previous night’s devastation, Buffy was nearly in tears.

Xander found himself dropped in an ignominious heap and promptly forgotten in favor of slayer-vamp cuddlies.

“There, there, sweetness.” He was holding Buffy close and running his hand soothingly up and down her back. “With both of us and the human Twinkie here pitching in to lend a hand, we’ll have it spotless in no time.”

“Me?” Xander goggled as the vampire’s splayed fingers came dangerously close to the curve of her rump. He was becoming convinced that he’d somehow ended up in another dimension. One where his friend was definitely being felt up by evil and quite obviously relishing every second of it.

“You’re here, ain’t ya? And uninvited, I might add. Gonna take an awful lot of food to fill you up, I’ll wager, so don’t bitch about earning your keep or I’ll let the pup have you for brekkie,” Spike threatened.

From her basket in the corner, Beauty opened one eye and glared at the interloper, her upper lip lifting delicately to reveal a mouthful of razor sharp teeth.

Xander shrank back against the wall. “What the hell kind of demon is that?” he quavered.

“A Collie, you git!” Spike rolled his eyes.

“Enough!” Buffy finally lifted her head from the shelter of Spike’s shoulder, but she made no move to put any distance between them. “Arguing isn’t helping. Why are you here, Xander? How did you find us?”

Xander couldn’t believe it. He got the impression from the tone of her voice that she wasn’t at all happy about being found. Not that he had actually been looking for her, but still. He had to wonder if Joyce would be so blasé about Buffy’s whereabouts if she knew her daughter were boning yet another member the undead club, especially so soon after kicking the last one to the curb.

“Don’t think he was looking for us, pet.”

Trust the vampire to pick up on his discomfort when confronted about his miraculous presence at the farm. Xander squirmed and refused to meet their curious stares. “I…uh…I decided to take a road trip. You know…a-a summer thing. Sow my wild oats and see what life is like away from the Hellmouth.”

Buffy slapped a hand over Spike’s mouth, effectively silencing what was sure to be a scathing remark about Xander and his wild oats. Of course, he immediately began running his tongue over the lines of her palm in a way that had her nipples standing at immediate attention. She shivered and pressed herself against him to hide the evidence of her arousal from her friend, who was gradually winding down his tale of life on the road.

“Anyway, I was on my way to the next town. I’m running low on cash and I figured I’d be able to find a few odd jobs there to keep myself going, but my truck broke down out on the highway. I saw your lights from there, so here I am.”

“Yay,” Spike mumbled into the slayer’s hand.

“So, no one sent you to find us?” Buffy didn’t bother to hide the relief in her voice.

“I left right after graduation, before Any— anyone could stop me, Buff. Your mom told us to leave you alone, so I decided to do my own thing for a while. Of course, if I had known you decided to trade in your tame pet for a wild one, and then shack up with him, I would have been here sooner.” Xander hoped his sarcastic remark was successful in covering his near slip-up. Anya Jenkins scared him silly. Sure, the sex was amazing. Hell, his ears were still ringing from her passionate screams, but even her name had the power to reduce him to a twitching puddle of fear.

Buffy caught his mistake, but decided that a confrontation could wait until later. Her vampire had grown bored during Xander’s spiel and was currently inching cool fingers up under her pajama shorts.

“Okay, well…great! Spike knows almost everyone in town, so I’m sure he’d be happy to take you in once it gets dark and help you find a job,” Buffy offered perkily.

“But my foot…I hurt it falling down the stairs last night,” whined Xander.

Waving a dismissive hand, Buffy grabbed Spike’s wandering digits with the other and beamed a wide, fake smile as she dragged him towards the stairs. “You can rest on the sofa all day, then. It’ll be fine by this evening. Spike and I will just go get dressed so we can start on the kitchen. Right, Spike?”

Spike was too busy nuzzling his face in her hair and teasing the bite marks on her neck. “You just wanna take me upstairs so I can suck on your gumdrop, don’t you?” he whispered lustily.

Said gumdrop perked to attention at the husky timbre of his voice. Whimpering, she hurried him out of the kitchen, calling a distracted. “make yourself at home, Xand,” over her shoulder as they went.

Xander shook his head in confusion as he got to his feet and went to forage for food. Something funny was going on here, but right now he was too weak from hunger to process the weirdness that was Buffy bumping uglies with Spike. It had to be thrall, he decided as he raided the pantry and retired to the living room sofa to rest and recharge.

A man needed to keep his strength up, after all.

TBC~

Oh My God!! Was the horror that he felt making his bowels shudder and clench totally transparent on his face? Was Buffy aware just how much he was going to kill her when he got back to the Happy Farm of Love?

Xander Harris sat across from the most harrowing employment committee he’d ever heard of and tried extra hard not to soil his squeaky fresh underwear. There were tentacles. And horns. And was that lady demon shedding her wrinkly, puce-coloured skin?

Xander sat glued to his chair, hoping and praying to a God that had obviously forsaken him and turned the world on its head just because his car decided to fall apart. Why oh why did he have to break down in front of the one place that should have but made so little sense? He nearly swallowed his tongue as the group of three finished their impromptu discussion of his virtues, taking many pauses in which to eye him from head to toe—and he was positive it was his imagination that had them lingering over his own tentacle-like bits.

The unanimous ‘yes’ they suddenly shouted out had him teetering on his chair, too late realising that swinging was as dangerous as his teachers had always warned. Xander jumped to his feet, rubbing furiously at the now pounding lump on the back of his head and cursed the floor that was obviously made out of cement. He eyed the chair suspiciously, but he was all respectful fear when he turned back to the demon women that would tell him if he could get money to fix his truck and get out of Whacko Land.

“We will take you, Xander Harris,” giggled the one with the horns and Xander winced, his butt cheeks clenching at the choice of words.

“You do us, yes?” added the one with the tentacles in a foreign accent, and all colour leeched from his face.

“No!” he shouted, panic making every muscle tense in terror. “No, I’ll do dishes. Dishes I’ll so do. Anything else? Not this boy from the Hellmouth. Nuhuh.” And he took two very large steps backwards and bumped into a long narrow stage, a pole bolted into the middle of its floor.

“Ahhh.” They grinned together, and then threw him a dishrag and brush, pointing him in the direction of the kitchen.

Xander didn’t wait around to see any other strange alterations to the plan, allowing his hands to dive into soapy suds and scrub clean as many glasses and dishes that were brought to him. The cutlery was a bit…odd…but he was ignoring and coping. It was a good plan that he had every intention of embracing when he got back home. Ignore and cope. When he got back to the farm tonight—ignore and cope. Ahhh, life was blissfully Egyptian again. He loved it.

Buffy and Spike were supposed to come and get him at closing. God, it’d be the first time he’d be willing to kiss Spike’s feet if he’d let him share car space. This place was giving him the heebie jeebies, no matter which river he was busy paddling up in his head.

The very wrinkly and sore evidence of dishpan hands was making him wince by the time he saw one of the owners of the place again. He was just about to pull the plug and toss the filthy, greasy rag in the sink when the one with the tentacles shot an extra long appendage out, gripped him around the waist and tugged him so that he stopped a straining inch from the terrifying body. Never before had he flinched away from size DD boobies, but this was a matter of life or death. Those weeping pustules looked poisonous and Xander panted and sweated as he tried not to offend his employer so much that she’d swipe at him with them.

“Oh, hey,” he giggled nervously. “No need to hug me. I loved doing your dishes. Really, would’ve done them for free if I didn’t, you know, need the cash.” He paled as the tentacle swiped over his ass and gave his butt cheek a not-so-gentle squeeze and then she shuddered an oogly laugh before shimmying against him and he felt holes burn in this shirt.

Xander blinked uncomprehendingly for two seconds before yelping loudly and started smacking at his chest. “Yeowwwww!” he gurgled and before he knew what had happened, the buttons were torn from his shirt so that it was barely hanging from his shoulders and he was sailing through the air, landing sprawled on his back on a stage in front of a room full of dimly lit, howling demon women, panting and rambunctious as they screamed for his body.

When his head stopped buzzing from both the impact on the stage—the second bump he’d managed to get in one night—and the catcalls and whistles from the seemingly enormous crowd of demonesses, he registered that there was music. It was pumping, it was loud, and it had his name all over it.

“I wanna be a cowboy,” he whispered in an approving daze before being slapped squarely in the middle of the eyes with a wide brimmed, appropriate for a Western hat and he started to wiggle his ass and flay his arms like a chicken. His life had become so weird that he just went back to swimming, and it felt so cool and refreshing in this special place that Xander almost forgot everything. Until some big meaty appendages jerked him to the realisation that he wasn’t alone on the stage and some huge beefy momma of a demon tore open the fly of his jeans and sent him flying while she ripped them from his body.

And ergo, head bump number three sent him really close to happy concussion land.

Xander staggered to his feet, a sappy smile of confusion on his lips as he stared into too bright lights and attempted to resume his dance. God, he loved this song. It did wild things to his evolutionary desire for movement and that was so much better than thinking that he was shimmying in his underwear to the largest demon population outside of the Hellmouth.

“Off, off, off, off, off,” became the chant around the club, gaining in decibels until the music was almost drowned out and Xander lost the beat, his brows crinkling while he concentrated hard on finding it again. Besides, he had so little left to get off and they couldn’t possibly want him to expose THAT! These babes were demons. Surely their questionably better halves weren’t even anatomically similar to him for them to get a kick out of seeing his private areas?

Oh well, he’d wiggle some more and wait and see. Seemed these ladies weren’t above taking the situation into their own hands.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Buffy had felt so proud of Spike. Not only was he being the best, er, boyfriendy kidnapping vampire ever for getting Xander this job, but he was totally awesome for not eating her friend at all. As much as she felt like slaying him herself on occasion.

Buffy felt so happy she could burst. Here they were, going out to dinner in a silent memorial to their rather blackened kitchen and now they were walking hand in hand to pick up Xander before they headed home. She felt almost giddy that she’d managed to stop his constant sarcasm about Spike. It was wearing on her nerves—not to mention making her question the sublime happiness she’d found from being in the vampire’s arms.

Knowing that Angel was fine with deserting her—putting a huge full stop on their relationship—had been really difficult for her to deal with emotionally. She’d fallen so hard for him, suffered so much guilt at being the cause of his soul loseage and sending him almost forever to Hell. Almost two months spent being with Spike and playing Susie Homewrecker had done wonders to return her self esteem—and strangely enough, she thrived on the irony. Had achieved miracles in wiping the memory of Angel’s kisses and wounded expressions from her mind.

She didn’t cling to the guilt anymore, and it had nothing to do with Spike being an evil influence. Since they’d supposedly—hopefully—abandoned the whole ‘feed-Buffy-to-Dru’ deal, Spike hadn’t really been that evil. He was a horndog for sure, and he’d done some things that she was positive he’d not learned from innocent ‘how-to’ books on lovemaking, but as far as the usual vampy evilness went, he’d been a kitten.

And the sudden image of Spike purring all kitteny made her giggle sweetly.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” he approved as he leaned in and nipped at her neck.

Buffy’s blood scorched her veins as her heart started thumping, desire for Spike almost drugging her into oblivion. Sometimes it scared her how much she had come to rely on his raspy voice, his sweet and sexy promises. Most of the time she just felt special that somehow, someway, she’d changed him enough by giving him a chance to be something he hadn’t yet tried.

The idea that it might end almost tore her heart to shreds.

Buffy had survived the loss of Angel, as wretched as it may have made her feel. She’d run away, searching for something even if she’d lied daily to herself about not wanting the familiar. Not wanting the reminders. The first thrust into her old life had sent her almost screaming in urgency back home to Sunnyhell.

But losing Spike…

She’d blocked out the option of going home—until Xander had come crashing in on her happiness. And she was ignoring how totally typical of him that was. But now the reality of her life was slapping her in the face and she realised—as the slayer—that some decisions needed to be made.

But not tonight.

Xander had some car parts he needed to purchase and had to work to get them. As much as she hated having a chaperone, he hadn’t crimped her style yet, and she wasn’t going back to offering explanations about how she felt to him. He had never been more than her friend—a best friend without doubt—but she didn’t owe him anything. Buffy was all grown up now, an adult with an adult’s decision lying in front of her. Angel had taken one decision away from her, she wasn’t letting Xander steal away another.

They’d arrived at the club without Buffy reaching any kind of conclusions. She swept her eyes over the glamour concealed door and wondered what kind of place it was. Mostly she just felt the strong urge to continue walking and was a little resentful when Spike pulled her through the door and into the raucous atmosphere inside.

And then she was laughing so hard she nearly collapsed.

“What the bleeding hell does that git think he’s doing?” Spike stood stupefied. One look at his face had Buffy weak in the knees and she nearly wet herself, almost collapsing at his feet in hysterical giggles.

“Oh…air….need some,” she gasped, waving her hand in front of her face in the hope it would stop her from hyperventilating.

Spike scowled at Buffy, then turned and glared at an oblivious yet gyrating Xander on the stage, his Scooby Doo boxers shiny as the light caught and elongated his various shapes. Buffy erupted with another fit of giggles as Spike tugged her determinedly toward an empty table halfway back from the action and wondered if his eyes would ever stop bleeding.

He shook his head and shuddered, making the fatal mistake of letting his gaze divert for just a minute. His eardrums nearly exploded at the mortified scream that almost ruptured Buffy’s voice box, and with a tremendous sense of dread, he turned back to the friend that was going to fast go from being a guest in their home to a fixture in their demon graveyard. He couldn’t miss the horny demon lady that swayed at Harris’s side, his torn undergarments dangling like a prize from her gnarled finger.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he spat at the sight of bare naked flesh standing small and scared. “Let’s go home, Slayer. You’ve got to shag that image right out of my poor abused brain.”

He was on his feet and half way through the back of the club before he registered her wolf-whistle. She’d managed to rescue her clumsy, witless friend and dragged him out of the club, he with nothing but her tiny jacket to wrap around his shocked and shrivelled parts.

He heard senseless words as the door banged shut, “But Buffy, they haven’t paid me yet. I gotta get the cash,” and cringed at the boy’s insistence. Then again, he deserved what he got in this place. With an evil chuckle, Spike admitted to himself the boy had probably earned it. With any luck it was enough to push his ass from this corner of the country and he’d have the Slayer all to himself once again.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

His hips jerked spasmodically as he came like a bull, the Slayer arching and squealing like the bloody amazing woman she was. Spike felt her heartbeat knocking against his chest, and it was not the first time he wanted to answer and let her in. When he’d finally stopped rolling his hips and his gasped breaths settled to a more sedate speed, he looked at her and wondered at the blush on her cheeks as she met his gaze with something like hope.

He felt the surge of something important in his chest and he knew that things had changed for him. Planned on making Buffy see that things were different now. The thought of turning her over to Dru to supp on had become rather close to abhorrent, and instead there were lighter, happier daydreams that flickered through his mind—until he saw Harris’s scarily milky white stumpy cock and the need to purge the image with something hot and wet and mind numbingly tight overcame him.

Before Buffy could open her mouth to voice any of her previous thoughts or concerns, she was moaning at the thickening of his cock inside her and he was pumping her into delirium. Slamming that nightmare snapshot out of his mind as he surrendered to sensation.

He roared as her nails dug into his butt cheeks, his back arching so he could seek out those more hard to reach places before settling into a steady rhythm he knew drove his girl wild.

His girl.

And that was about the size of it. He was past the point of considering letting her go now. He’d embedded himself inside the Slayer too many times to surrender the promise of her to some other whiny git. His poofy grandsire mightn’t have the stones to give the girl a go—preferring to show his affection by being nothing but wind beneath her wings. Spike was willing to be her bloody wings if it kept him close to her side. He’d be her stepping stone to the baddies, help her with her own little demon graveyard back in SunnyD. Whatever the girl needed, he’d kill whoever he had to to make sure she got it.

It was only as he came with a gruelling surge of pistoning hips that he finally got it. The words were there, right on the tip of his tongue and he could do nothing but bury his vamped out face in her breasts and bite to prevent them spilling his secret. He filled his mouth with her blood, falling longer and harder than he thought possible, and wondered at the surprising nature of love.

But at least it wiped his mind of nude Harris images.

Chapter Nineteen


“Not that one. The bloody three quarter inch socket, Harris!”

“This one?”

“What- No! Oh, just get out of the way, you no-brained waste of space. I’ll get it myself.”

Buffy couldn’t help but snicker at the Abbott and Costello routine being played out in their very own barn. She stood there quietly, waiting on them to notice her and the frosty beers she held in each hand.

Both of them were a mess, smudged with dirt and grime. Oily black streaks marred the glaring white hair of her vampire, looking as though he’d run his dirty hands through it in a fit of frustration. It was beyond amusing to see him this way. She’d come to the conclusion after the laundry incident that Spike was the vainest of vampires. He hated to be seen looking anything less than perfect.

Well, his idea of perfect and hers were obviously very different. Buffy hummed in appreciation as he bent over the truck’s fender, the tight, hard curve of his ass thrust into the air as he tinkered with something in the engines depths. Her tongue slipped out to wet her suddenly desert-dry lips as she remembered squeezing those luscious cheeks with both hands as he pounded away at her just last night.

Something had been different last night. Sure, they had gone at each other like rabid weasels, but even while he’d done things to her that she was pretty sure were illegal in all fifty states, there had been a sweeter side. A subtle hint of- dare she say it?

Tenderness?

Broken whispers and disjointed endearments—and then his bite. God, his teeth in her breast, worshipping her with his body as he drove her to such rapturous heights that her scalp tingled for hours afterwards. Could it be that he was beginning to have feelings for her? Buffy sighed happily.

Angel might have preached about soulless demons and their inability to experience the finer emotions, but she was pretty sure by now that Angel was an idiot where Spike was concerned. Had he sensed it all along, perhaps, her unconscious attraction to the former bane of her existence?

When he’d finally regained his wits after his Buffy-sponsored trip to Acathla’s hell dimension, she had casually informed him of her alliance with Spike to bring him down. Oddly enough, Angel hadn’t blamed her, but his ire over his grandchilde’s involvement knew no bounds.

He’d always been extremely vocal in his dislike of Drusilla’s childe. She had to wonder if that was the alpha male vampire in him coming out to play, or if he’d realized just how much of a yen she’d had for the self-proclaimed Big Bad since the night they met?

At that moment, Spike leaned further over the engine to tug at a stubborn bolt, biceps bulging impressively as he cursed the offending part. Tough denim pulled taut and Buffy’s mind went drooling happily to the Naughty Spike Place.

Oh, yeahhhhh! Come to mama, baby!

“Hey, Buffster!”

She let out a choked scream when a grinning Xander popped up in front of her like a demented Jack-in the-box. Hearing her startled shriek, Spike snapped upright, banging his head hard against the underside of the truck’s hood. The oily wrench slipped from his grasp and flew in a graceful arc, flipping end over end before connecting solidly with the back of Xander’s already lumpy skull. He dropped like a sack of rocks. In the meantime, the impact of Spike’s head made the hood come loose from its prop and it came slamming down. The vampire’s preternatural reflexes saved him from decapitation, but the lamp they had clamped inside to illuminate their work area was smashed to smithereens. With an ominous whoosh, the electrical sparks from the broken bulb ignited the oil and gas smeared engine and in seconds the whole front of the truck was afire.

Looks of disbelief were exchanged before all three sprang into action. Xander grabbed the sizzling hot edge of the hood with his bare hands and threw it open. He skipped away, yelping and shaking his singed hands in pain as a belching cloud of fire and black smoke rolled upwards. Spike snatched a horse blanket off the nearby shelf and began beating at the flames while screaming for Xander to grab up the hose that was never far from hand since Buffy became domesticated. While Xander doused Spike and his burning blanket and the engine, Buffy did her part by rushing forward and dumping the beers she was still clinging to onto the blaze.

The last of the flames were extinguished, courtesy of Budweiser.

They stood there, a panting, bedraggled circle of three wearing identical expressions of dazed bewilderment.

“What the bloody fuck just happened here?” Spike bit out grimly. He turned to glare at Buffy, while she whirled around to accost Xander.

“You scared me!” she accused.

Xander sucked in an indignant gasp and nearly swallowed his tongue. “You screamed!”

“Only because you scared me!”

The argument rapidly degenerated into childish pinching and rapid-fire accusations of ‘did nots!’ and ‘did so’s!’ from the two antagonists. Following the rain of insults back and forth like a line judge at Wimbledon, Spike finally rolled his eyes in disgust. He shoved his fingers in his mouth and cut loose with an eardrum-splitting whistle. That shut them up, but they continued to glower at each other.

“Let’s calm down, shall we?” Spike’s voice was deceptively soft and gently cultured, but his eyes flashed yellow as he looked from one to the other. “Very good. Now, I don’t want to hear any more accusations. It was just one of those very strange things that seem to happen whenever Buffy is around.”

“True,” Xander sighed regretfully as he wandered over to inspect the smoldering carcass of his once-prized Ford. “Buffy and mechanics are unmixy things.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped in horror. “That so is not true! You’d both better take that back right now, or I’ll-”

“Sweetheart-” Spike stepped towards her, intent on soothing her ire. Seeing his hands reaching for her, Buffy slapped at them ineffectually. Tears of frustration sparkled in her eyes as she pouted up at him.

“But Spike, this wasn’t my fault. I was bringing you guys something to drink and he jumped up at me and scared me when I wasn’t paying attention. I was-.” Her mouth slammed shut and her cheeks flamed when she realized what she had almost blurted out what had been distracting her.

“You were…what?” Spike prompted patiently. That fiery blush had to have wicked thoughts behind it. He’d bet what was left of his Desoto on it.

She’d rip out her tongue before confiding that she’d been ogling his ass. The nerve of him. He was practically taking Xander’s side in a disgustingly macho show of solidarity against poor, innocent little her.

“No. Get off me. Just…just go play with your new buddy and leave me alone. I can’t believe that you’re taking his side over mine. See if I ever bring you a cold drink-”

His entire body held taut, Spike took a step forward for every two that she back away from him. “Buffy?” he rumbled cajolingly. “Sweetness? You remember when we talked about arguing and what it does to me?”

And just like that, he had her. Meeting those slumberous blue eyes, the Slayer froze like a deer in the headlights. An all-over shudder wracked her lithe, soot-smudged form and her nether regions seized up in anticipation as a gush of wet warmth soaked her panties.

“What’s it do to him?” Xander asked, completely oblivious as he tipped one of the beer bottles up in a futile attempt to catch any remaining drops.

Buffy began to slink towards Spike, small white teeth capturing her bottom lip as she came to a halt mere inches from his body. Without breaking their smoldering eye contact, she replied off-handedly to her friend’s remark.

“It makes him horny.”

With that, she leapt eagerly into his waiting arms and smashed her lips to his. They kissed, their mouths devouring each other in a surge of passion so intense, the very air around them crackled with sexual energy. Cradling his precious burden, Spike stumbled blindly towards the ladder to the loft. After a few minutes, their impassioned cries of ecstasy signaled their safe arrival upstairs.

Xander sighed. Tossing the empty bottle over his shoulder, he shook his head in bewilderment.

“We’re talking about Spike. What doesn’t make him horny?” he muttered as he made his way back to the house.

*~*~*~*

Spike woke with a bellow to claws swatting at his stirring tender bits. His eyes popped open and he froze when confronted with a miniscule ball of fluff wielding what seemed to be ten inch razor sharp talons. Huge green eyes blinked innocently up at him as the kitten plopped itself down on his balls and began a leisurely bath.

“Shoo!” he spat at the tiny creature. “Bugger off!”

When his verbal commands went blissfully ignored, Spike decided to try scaring it away. Vamping out, he bared his fangs and snarled at the toffee colored puffball.

Totally unimpressed, the contrary little beast batted her eyes at him and then yawned, revealing her own needle sharp teeth. That delicate yawn had the big, bad vampire close to panicking. She looked to be settling in for a nap, and if she started kneading at his danglies, he was going to come unhinged.

A soft giggle jerked his head around and he groaned. A tousled Buffy fresh from a good bit of rough and tumble garnered the usual reaction from him and he flinched as the kitten hissed and slapped again at his growing erection.

“Buffy,” he bleated, his voice a decidedly unmanly squeak. “A little help here, luv?”

She sat up beside him, legs crossed Indian style and chin cradled on her hands. Green eyes very much like the kittens stared back at him, a stirring tenderness in their depths to match the sweet smile on her face.

“That is the cutest thing I have ever seen,” she gushed, making her ‘aww’ face. “I wish we had a camera.”

“Not that I don’t mind bringing the media into our sex life, pet, but just who are you planning on showing the undoubtedly adorable picture of a kitten napping on my stiffy?”

Buffy had to concede that he had a good point. A very good point, she thought with a surge of jealousy. There was no way anyone was gonna ogle Spike’s ‘spike’ but her.

“Fine, ruin my fun. Want me to move her?”

He sighed with forced patience. “If you please?”

“It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, you know. She’s comfy, so once I put my hand on her she’s gonna dig in,” she warned.

“Buffy-”

“Okay, okay. Yeesh, ya grouch.” She crawled through the hay until she came to his hip. The kitten eyeballed her suspiciously and hissed again. “Wonder if I should do this like a Band-Aid?” she muttered to herself.

Spike raised his head to look down at her and frowned. “Band-Aid?”

“Yeah, you know. Just rip it off and get it over with?”

He ground his teeth so hard that his jaw popped. “Slayer…”

Buffy snickered. She could have sworn that vampires didn’t sweat. “Just kidding. Alright, brace yourself; I’m going in.” Holding her breath, she reached for the feline.

Spike winced and cringed and bitched and moaned the entire time.

It was the longest minute of his life, living or undead.

When Buffy finally pulled the last claw from his dick, he sagged limply into the hay with a whimper. The whimper turned into a growl as he watched the slayer kiss the kitten on its little pink nose and coo sweet nonsense to calm it.

“Poor Taffy. Pay no attention to that mean old vampire,” she soothed. “You just wanted a nice place to nap, didn’t you?”

Spike harrumphed and sat up to cast an eye over his abused cock. Several hairline scratches marred its surface, and a number of tiny punctures were sluggishly oozing blood.

“Bloody hell,” he snarled irritably. “Look at me. Here, give me the little blighter so I can toss it out the window.”

Giving him a horrified glare, Buffy dropped the kitten and waved her hands at it, shooing it back to the safety of its mother. “I can’t believe you would do that to a defenseless kitten,” she snapped.

“Defenseless?” Spike grabbed his wounded pecker and shook it at her. “Look at me, Slayer, m' bits are bleeding. Defenseless, my ass!”

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. A torrent of giggles burst from her and they only got worse when he began to sputter his indignation. When he finally huffed at her and started to get up, she pounced.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she pacified as she straddled his legs to keep him from storming off in a fit of pique. “Poor Spikey. Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

He might have refused to look at her while he milked his pout for all it was worth, but his cock sat up and aggressively saluted her suggestive comment. Traitorous bastard.

“Oh, well, I can see someone is happy with that idea,” she purred. “C’mon, let Buffy make it all better?”

Like he would ever turn her down.

Spike watched, completely mesmerized by her wicked smile as she leaned over him. Soft hands skimmed up his thighs and she bent over to take him into her mouth.

“Ungh!” he grunted, fighting the urge to snatch her by that cloud of golden hair and ram his entire length down her throat. The girl had no idea what she could do to him with the heated cavern that lay beyond her glossy lips. The fact that she had never done this for anyone but him only made him harder. God, she was a talented little minx.

Buffy devoted herself to her task, loving the way she could reduce him to a big, mushy pile of vampire goo with just her tongue. It still amazed her that she enjoyed doing this. Relished it, in fact. Horror stories she’d heard in the school bathrooms had led her to believe that such an act was awkward and degrading for the woman. It was yet another sexual myth that being the lover of one William the Bloody had disproved, right up there with the one about multiple orgasms being the stuff of fairytales. Obviously, those poor, unfortunate ladies had never been so blessed as to be with someone like her Spike.

Her Spike. Her. Spike.

Definitely like the sound of that, she mused as she licked and sucked and nibbled him into a quivering frenzy. He was hers, and as soon as she peeled him off the ceiling, she was going to tell him so.

She knew he was getting close by the broken endearments that sputtered from his lips. She wasn’t even sure he was speaking English anymore. He was so wound up, it was starting to sound like Swahili. Stifling the giggle that threatened at her nonsensical thoughts, she took his pulsing member down her throat as far as she could and swallowed around him.

“Oh, fuck…Buffy…” Spike babbled, his hips arching desperately as he strained towards his release. “God, you’re…bloody brilliant…at this,” he gasped in praise.

Buffy hummed happily in reply and the vibrations from that were all it took to finish him off. With an ecstatic howl, he gripped her hair to guide her as he thrust his way through the final throes of his release.

Gently prying her hair from his fingers, Buffy sat up and swiped daintily at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. With a final pet of his limp but sublimely happy cock, she crawled over him and smiled down into his dazed blue eyes.

“All better, now?” she inquired perkily.

Spike hauled her down for a lush, worshipful kiss and then fell back with a satiated purr. Tucking her tightly against his side, he stared down at her with an expression of complete and total infatuation.

“W-was it okay?” That look was making her tummy flutter in a wildly exciting way.

“Mmm hmm,” he rumbled blissfully. “It was perfect. You’re perfect, you know that?”

Buffy swallowed convulsively. Now. Now would be the most absolutely perfect moment to tell him how she felt. C’mon, Buff. Just four little words, she coached herself nervously. She opened her mouth, gazing up at him with wide, luminous eyes.

“Spike, I lo-”

“Buffy! Spike!” Xander’s ill-timed, fearful bellow of their names had them both leaping to their feet and scurrying to the loft doors. Xander stood in the barnyard with an uneasy look on his face. “You know, I normally wouldn’t dream of interrupting the whole Call of the Wild thing you two got going on, but we have company.”

They followed his pointing finger down the long gravel drive to see a small red MG convertible barreling towards them. The top was down and Spike swore viciously when he spotted a familiar head of dark hair and the dripping antlers of the demon that was driving the little car.

Buffy battled an insane urge to cry as she clutched her discarded dress to her breasts. An ugly feeling of foreboding shuddered through her as she watched Spike snatch up his jeans and yank them roughly over his legs.

“S-Spike? Is that-?”

“Yeah,” he growled as he did up the buttons of his fly. He rested his hands on his lean hips and glared at the floor between his bare feet.

“It’s Dru.”

To Be Continued...

dadum..dadum..dadumdumdumdum!!

A/N~ No kittens were harmed in the writing of this chapter.

Buffy had barely managed to jam her jelly-like limbs into the appropriate holes of her dress before grabbing a handy makeshift stake and nervously following Spike out of the barn and into the front yard. The little car almost lost its clutch as Slimy Antler Guy came to a screeching halt with a crunch of gears and brake, sending up clouds of dust that the humans found to be an overly dramatic choking distraction.

Through her coughs, Buffy avidly watched what Spike did, how he reacted to the sudden snake in their presence, and in doing so went against everything Giles had told her she would have learned if she’d ever opened that Slayer Handbook he’d eventually loaned her. She’d taken her eyes off the real threat, giving into the fear that with the appearance of Spike’s real love, he’d forget about her in one of her own heartbeats.

Drusilla.

And there the Queen of Whoremania—emphasis on the mania—was, perkily popping out of the car and waiting patiently for her latest oozing squeeze to uncrush his body from the sardine can his lady love had obviously slaughtered some middle aged librarian with an identity crisis to get for him.

The slimy demon seemed like he’d crushed his spine in at least three places as he huddled against the car and tried to hunker down around the clinging vine that was Dru.

Buffy finally tore her gaze away from the miserable looking Spike staring at the dirt, his jaw clenched hard and pulsing, and fully took in their company. Her assessment of the situation came to a screeching halt the second her eyes really took in the sight before them. Xander’s losing battle with his own mirth was her first clue that what she was seeing wasn’t so much an hallucination as a really warped mistake. Buffy giggled—couldn’t help it, and that was what finally forced Spike to look up and drink in the sight of his ex.

“Bloody hell, Dru,” he exploded. “You threw me out, but play dress up with this bugger?” His eyes were comically wide as he surveyed the gross demoralisation of his own look. Skin tight black jeans fairly strangled the seeping demon’s lower half while the black t-shirt was slick with slime. The black leather duster was several sizes too small and it added to the hunchback look the demon had going for him.

“What is a princess to do, Spike? My lovely has two penises. Surely you understand; I must take my pleasures where I can get them. I told you your head was filled with her.”

In amidst the zooming eyeballs to the very crowded crotch of her new lover, Buffy realised it was the first time Dru really looked at her, and the spitting declaration that she’d occupied Spike’s thoughts even when he was with the woman he’d claimed he’d love forever went much further in returning her happiness than possibly even dusting Dru could have done.

Not that she was gonna act all grateful and invite them in for tea or anything.

“Whoa,” Xander interjected, his voice betraying how obviously impressed he was. “Two penises? That’s…something I’ve never heard of actually, and please explode my eardrums so I never hear it again?” He giggled his embarrassment and took his first back step to the farmhouse’s porch and Buffy smiled at how men had no understanding of the implications of two penises.

She was actually kinda impressed. Not that she would have traded the real deal of Spike in for some oozing, wimpy looking demon with horns. No way, she was more than happy with One Penis Spike...’cause the things he could do with just that one appendage brought tears of bliss to her eyes.

“Gets the girls every time,” the proud demon affirmed and Buffy’s eyes bugged as both Spike and Xander got whiplash as they turned to her for confirmation.

“Not this girly,” she refuted and felt slightly ill at what that kind of expectation would have on a girl.

Spike turned away, mollified, until he clashed eyes with his replacement.

“Pfffft,” Spike scoffed, turning back to Dru and oozing sexual confidence. He’d had Buffy screaming almost every minute—what did he need an extra cock for? “You left me for some superficial reason like that? I could have gone and got another penis. All you bloody had to do was ask, Dru.”

He blanched at Buffy’s look of disbelieving reproach and his eyes fell to the dirt at his boots again, boyish embarrassment finding his hands shoved in pockets as he tried to work through that remark.

Buffy felt torn in two. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and tell him that she would never have thrown him over for something so selfish. It wasn’t like they didn’t make vibrators that could be a perfectly good substitute, without all the icky after mess. On the flip side, Buffy wanted to beat Spike to a pulp. Not fifteen minutes ago, she had been planted firmly and deliriously between his legs, making him writhe in the kind of pleasure that only came with sharing loving feelings.

If she’d needed any evidence that Spike was never going to, the appearance of his she-devil ex was more than enough. She’d been living in a dream world all this time—slaying demons by his side, making what she thought was love at any and every opportunity, allowing herself to become an object of derision to her friend due to her decision.

Dru was here now, on her very doorstep and while Buffy didn’t figure Spike would ask her in to the place they’d had some kind of relationship, there was nothing to stop him from trying to kill her and presenting her neck to his beloved—Chaos demon notwithstanding. Xander had the right idea. Buffy needed to distance herself, protect herself and Xander now that they had three potentially vicious killers after them. While the idea of killing Spike tore open wounds she’d thought he’d healed forever with his kiss, there was no way she was leaving Xander open to potential attack.

Buffy edged away from the unknown quantity, bumping up against Xander and nudging him back toward the house. Before they’d made it to the porch steps, Beauty came bounding down and barked up a treat, alerting Spike to their attempted escape.

“Buffy?” He frowned, and then like he’d finally gained a clue, his eyes flickered between the girl he’d been falling for while on the run from Dru’s assassination squad and the woman he’d pledged loyalty to for his eternity. “Pet?” A stone fell in his gut at her flinch and the protective way she was heading her friend off away from them. She thought he was going to turn on her, and even though the thought had never crossed his mind, he finally saw he was in one hell of a situation.

And that just made him seethe with anger. What bleeding right did these women have to tear him into a million pieces? True, he’d handed his heart to Dru so long ago and had it destroyed spectacularly as soon as their patriarch had seen fit to return to them, but Buffy had been stitching him back together with bows and shiny thread and he was closer to loving her completely than he’d ever thought possible.

There was also the point that while Dru had started up a vendetta and was trying very actively to wipe him out of existence, Buffy had laid down her stakes and taken him into her life. And the fireworks that sparked every time they touched were a pretty nifty prize too. Still, he wasn’t missing the major point here, and that was that he was happy. Buffy exasperated the hell out of him, but the bint made him happy in the way a woman was supposed to with her man—and he kind of loved the idea of taking that place in her life. If Peaches was the bigger idiot for walking away from such a treat, Spike wasn’t. This journey may have started out with him wanting to present the Slayer’s blood as a way of getting back between Dru’s silky thighs, but the idea now made him want to cut his own head off and sprinkle his dust at Buffy’s feet.

Only he hoped with all he was optimistic that that scenario wouldn’t make her as happy as it apparently would make Dru.

“Why, Dru? Just what did you think you were doing?” That part had always confused him. She was his maker and as bad as things got, he would never have pictured her as wanting to be rid of him completely.

Where once her sniffle would have had him as putty in her hands, he could see now that she was just manipulating his reactions.

“Oh, my Spike. I knew you'd take it the wrong way. Princess was only trying to have some fun.”

"Fun! Bloody fun! I got hooked up with the Slayer, Dru!" And he knew his mistake as soon as the words spurted from his mouth. Knew how easily his words had hurt with the look of betrayal on Buffy’s face. “Fuck,” he swore, infuriated that Dru had tricked him into expounding a sentiment he didn’t really feel. Not in a bad way, anyway. He was rather grateful he’d hooked up with the Slayer. “Buffy, I didn’t mean it, baby.” He reached out to take her hand, apology making his eyes shine as he worried how much damage he had to repair. “I love bein’ hooked up to you.”

Buffy’s smiling face looked hopeful as she hesitantly stepped toward him, her body shuddering with need that it was just one of those things he’d said before thinking it through—a totally typical Spike thing to do and which she usually found utterly adorable.

Dru ‘tsked’ the exchange and stepped between them impatiently. She reached out a pale and frail hand to brush faintly against his cheek, then like the conniving snake Buffy knew her to be, dived for his throat, fangs lethally bared and glinting dully in the porch’s outside floodlights.

Beauty was on her in a heartbeat, feral teeth planted painfully in her scrawny backside so that Dru leapt half a foot in the air in fright, dog dangling precariously.

“Oh, Dru! Dru.” Her slimy lover attempted to rush forward—presumably to whip the doggie off her behind—when he stumbled to his knees, his unaccustomed tight wardrobe inhibiting his usually more coordinated moves.

The incensed brunette screamed and spun in a circle, her arms flailing ineffectually to rid her ass of its bitey offender.

“Spike,” she shrieked, “get it off me.”

Spike stood with his arms crossed, a slow smile blooming on his face.

“I don’t know, luv. Can’t you take a joke?” He turned to Buffy and in the moment their eyes met he knew his place, and it was no longer at the side of someone who took his existence so lightly.

“I’ll save you, Dru, my darling.” They all stood back as Dru kept screaming and flapping at the dog on her ass and the enormous effort of the chaos demon to regain a reasonably upright stance. The coat wouldn’t let him straighten, and as he stumbled forward, Dru overbalanced and ended up impaled on his horn—and so not in a good way.

The vampire turned to him sadly, no longer worried about the teeth leaving deep marks in her butt, and smiled. “Oh, Herman,” she gasped, and then crumbled away into decorative dust.

There was a stunned silence as several minds attempted to catch up with the shock.

Xander was the first to snap out of the funk, shaking his head and acknowledging that just one more of those really freaky weird things he’d come to accept since landing at Buffy and Spike’s love nest had occurred. It was better to just accept and move on, though he was kind of worried by the look of fear that had taken over Buffy’s pretty green eyes.

In reaction, Xander did what Xander did best. Made light of a tragic situation. “Got to love those inbuilt stakes, huh? Bet that came in handy a time or two.”

Buffy shot her friend a very unappreciative look, then returned to stare at the portion of her front driveway that now lay monument to Beauty’s greatest conquest. “No way that just happened. We flashed into the Twilight Zone, didn’t we?”

“What the fuck?” Spike turned accusing eyes on the demon and flashed his fangs. “Dru dumped me for a slimy bastard called Herman?”

Time ticked.

“Nobody should be called Herman,” Buffy agreed. “Especially not a two penis slimy wooden antler chaos demon guy. That’s just worlds of wrong.” And while everyone was still rooted to the spot in shock, Buffy raced forward and grabbed hold of those antlers, giving the demon a brutal twist and smiling at the snap of his neck, before looking down at her sticky hands. “Ewwwww. That is just so wrong. And how did he get a wooden antler anyway? Was Dru a mixed up chicky, or what?”

Spike was slowly nodding, trying to acclimatise to the new world he existed in. His maker was dust, her lover was lying dead in his driveway with a broken neck, his shining light of good was beaming happily at him and her friend was watching on with admiration.

“’Spose you expect a bloke to go bury that in the backyard,” Spike asked conversationally, letting his fingers relax and search for his cigarettes. Bloody confusing day needs to be topped off with a vice or two. He looked at ecstatic Buffy and could already picture another vice he was sure he’d be partaking in before the end of the night.

“Yup,” she nodded. And then she jerked her head to the side and indicated their other little problem. “And look. Cute sexy sports car for driving home to Sunnydale in.” Or apparently not so much of one.

She looked so hopeful, so happy that Spike couldn’t say no, though he wondered how the hell she was expecting him to leave his baby behind. He certainly wasn’t going to endanger the driving world by allowing his sweet thing behind the wheel, and that left his Desoto fat out of luck.

And then the words hit him and he couldn’t help but melt.

“Home?”

She nodded, eyes uncertain but misty as she gave in to hoping for the best. “Uhuh. Is that okay?” She bit her lip, feeling all sorts of sensations pass through her body as his eyes glazed over in wonder.

“You want to take me home to mum then, pet? Show me off to your watcher?” Her acceptance was like an underline on his life, giving him a place that was his and hers together and now he knew she wanted him as more than a distraction before he’d instigated that one good day.

“Yeah, ‘cause I can see all kinds of good coming out of that. Hey Mom, come meet my vampire lover mark two. He’s the new and improved soulless variety. Invite him in so he can snack on your neck.” Xander remained oblivious to the two murderous glares shot at him, slumping forlornly back on the steps, a satiated Beauty at his feet.

“I’ll go anywhere with you, baby, but can we tie him up in the trunk?” Spike nuzzled her neck, and his strange night was complete as his girl nodded enthusiastically under his lips and the witless git realised his gaff, sulking all the more.

Looked like it was time for another road trip.

TBC

Chapter Twenty One


Buffy sighed from her favorite perch as she surveyed the place that had helped to change her life for the better. Well, to be perfectly honest, it had been Spike’s influence, but the freedom that was living on this little patch of heaven had more than helped.

She could just make out their shapes in the pre-dawn light as Spike and Xander labored together to inter Dru’s pet chaos demon; the unfortunate Herman. The faithful Beauty lolled in the dirt, her head resting respectfully on her paws as she kept a close eye on Xander.

In spite of her earlier high spirits about returning to her home town, a coincidental phone call from Giles had rapidly soured her sunny mood. Of course, he had been full of doom and gloom about some high-powered military group experimenting on demons. Really, did these people not understand the concept of ‘I QUIT’?

Obviously not, and apparently her slayer side didn’t either, because the contrary thing was just itching to get back to some decent, Hellmouthy-type slaying. The Buffy side, on the other hand, only wanted things to remain as they were, a little light slaying before bed while living in blissful sin with her not-so-tame vampire.

Why couldn’t she have both? Would the idea of her and Spike as a couple be so preposterous to everyone but her? Xander seemed to be pretty much okay with it since the whole bonding over the flaming truck incident. After all, he was out there right now, helping to bury antler-man and trading quips with the evil, soulless demon.

But the others…

She had a feeling her mom would be fine with it. Her animosity towards any and all things Angel ran pretty deep, but she’d always had a soft spot for his unruly grandchilde.

Willow would no doubt babble about broken bottles and love spells, but eventually she would straighten up and slap on her resolve face and threaten to turn Spike into a newt if he hurt her friend.

Then there was her Watcher. Giles would ‘hmm’ and ‘harrumph’ and rub his lenses to a fine powder, and then he would…what? Forbid her to see Spike? Not hardly, but he could make her life very uncomfortable with mournful sighs and put-upon looks.

Last, but not least, there was Angel. Angel who was now a not-quite-so-pleasant footnote in her life’s history. She might be a little ditzy on occasion, but she was by no means stupid. Something told her that the instant Angel got wind that her new ‘boyfriend’ was anything but the ‘normal’ he’d so nobly left her for, he’d come blazing back from L.A. so fast, he’d leave a vacuum.

Well, let him!

She’d had the whole summer to contemplate the various reasons that ‘normal’ just wasn’t feasible for her. Angel would find a changed Buffy when he got there. A Buffy that knew that no matter how hard she tried, ‘normal’ just wasn’t in her make-up.

‘Normal’ would never understand the drawers full of stakes and holy water, or the chest of weapons under her bed. ‘Normal’ couldn’t possibly grasp why she prowled the Hellmouth after dark, night after night. When she came limping home at four in the morning covered with battle wounds and disgusting entrails, ‘normal’ would never comprehend how she could be fully healed just twenty-four hours later.

No, ‘normal’ just couldn’t cut it. Wasn’t what she needed.

What she needed was following Xander back to the house, his hands shoved in his pockets and a cigarette clamped between his teeth as he laughed at the boy’s antics with the chaos demon’s Spike-centric coat. Feeling the weight of her stare, he stopped in his tracks and stared up at her, a wealth of emotion shining from those sexy blue eyes before he did the head-tilty thing and completely obliterated any remaining indecision she might have had over the choices she’d made.

Yup, normal was a vastly over-rated concept.


*~*~*

Xander was cursing while trying to dodge Beauty’s efforts to gnaw his ankles off. “But why don’t I get to drive the shiny toy car?” he grumbled.

Spike tossed his duffle and Buffy’s small bag into the miniscule trunk and slammed it shut, nearly catching Xander’s fingers in the process.

“Lesson the four-hundredth, Whelp. Buffy isn’t happy. When Buffy isn’t happy, I’M not happy. If I’m not happy, people tend to lose their blood pressure and…well, their blood, too. The hot little car makes Buffy smile, ergo, we’re driving it and you’re driving my car. Or, what’s left of my car. Now do you understand?”

Sighing dejectedly, Xander ran his hands over the sparkling red paint job. “Yeah, yeah. Got it loud and clear, blood breath. I’m sure me and Cerberus will have a hellacious time bebopping along in the Desoto.”

“Keep insultin’ the Slayer’s pup and you’ll be hitch-hiking back to Sunnyhell.”

Both lifted their eyes to the open doors of the hay loft where Buffy sat, bare feet swinging in the cool evening air. She appeared to be lecturing the lapful of kittens and their attentive mother while she cuddled one particular ball of ginger-colored fuzz under her chin.

“I don’t get it, I guess,” Xander ruminated. “I figured the Buffster would be…well, maybe not ecstatic about going home, but not this broken up about it.”

“And you’re all excited?” Spike eyed him through a cloud of smoke.

Xander stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pilfered duster, unconsciously mimicking the blonde vampire’s pose. “Yeah, well, I’m kinda thinking one former demon can’t be anywhere near as bad as that bunch I was dancing for the other night.”

Spike snickered. “Oh, dancing. Is that what that was? Looked more like Roy Rogers having an epileptic seizure to me.”

“HEY!” His efforts to catch the laughing vampire were hindered by the snarling dog clamped to his ankle. “What is it with this animal?” he complained. “Most dogs like me. Are you sure she isn’t part demon?”

“Well, she’s a female. Maybe you should dance for her and see if she sweetens up to you.”

“Ha, ha!”

Spike grinned and tossed him the keys to the Desoto. “Best get on the road, Whelp. We’ll catch up to you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go, Beauty.”

It took some coercion and a fat pork chop tossed in the back seat, but eventually boy and dog were limping down the lane in the beat up shell of a car, Xander’s arm waving cheerily out the window.

Spike crushed the last of his smoke under his boot and turned to yell at the Slayer to move her delectable ass.

She slouched out of the barn towards him, a scowl on her face and a suspicious looking lump under her baggy t-shirt.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Spike told her sternly when the lump mewed loudly. “I put up with the dog because she thinks Harris is an entrée, but I draw the line at the little hairball.”

Giving up her lame attempt at subterfuge, Buffy pulled the kitten from under her shirt and held it to her cheek, nuzzling the soft fur while the both of them stared at him with matching green eyes filled with entreaty.

“No, Slayer.” A little less adamant this time.

She never said a word, but her lower lip quivered. Even the cat managed to look pathetic.

“Buffy…” Sensing that he was weakening, female and feline pulled out all the stops.

Spike caved.

Who knew a kitten could be taught that lethal Summers pout?

~*~*~

Joyce was- to put it bluntly- highly pissed.

While usually mild-mannered to a fault, the words spilling from the red-faced former librarian were sending her temperature soaring to unheard of heights. The carefully expressionless face of his companion only exacerbated the situation. He stood on the other side of the barrier waiting for an invite that he was fairly certain was never going to come.

“You know, I don’t think I could have possibly heard you right, Rupert. Could you repeat that please?”

Her almost too-cheery tone made for an extremely wary Watcher. Giles eyed his slayer’s mother and cautiously slid a few steps closer to the open door, wincing as she moved to stand between him and the unwelcome vampire, using her body to effectively block the entry. “I…er, that is…we-”

“We decided it was time to call Buffy home, Ms. Summers,” Angel broke in helpfully when it appeared the Watcher had completely lost his nerve. Wild hand gestures from the other man went ignored as he set himself out to charm the woman into seeing that this was the best course of action for all concerned.

“Excuse me? WE? We, as in YOU and HIM?” Joyce whirled and proceeded to turn her ire on the dark-haired vamp that had made it his mission in life to make her daughter miserable. “Silly me, I thought I was the one that gave birth to her. Or maybe that isn’t enough to justify my being the one that makes decisions for her?”

“I-” Angel found himself backed up against the porch rail by the diminutive woman.

“And what exactly are you doing back here, anyway? Your place is in L.A. Go back to ‘helping the helpless’, Angel. You don’t belong here.”

“Buffy-”

“Has moved on, thank God,” Joyce spat. “She has a wonderful new boyfriend that loves her very much, and if you think I’m going to sit back and let you interfere in her affairs…well…let’s just say that it would certainly make my day to use your ashes to fertilize my rose bushes,” she threatened.

Thoroughly intimidated by the manic gleam in her eyes, Angel cast a desperate look at Giles, who replaced his freshly polished glasses and reluctantly stepped in to the rescue his partner in crime. Why, oh, why had he allowed himself to be coerced into this situation?

Angel was currently thanking the Powers that they had decided to wait until after the sun had set before venturing over to Buffy’s house, because her enraged mother had him back-stepping quickly down off the porch and into the front yard. She was yelling now, her eyes narrowed into furious slits and her face a frightening shade of red.

None of the three were paying any attention to the rolling heap of Detroit scrap iron that was now idling at the curb. They never noticed the blur of black fur that leapt from the back seat and made a bee-line with intimidating fangs bared for the retreating vampire’s ass.

Angel’s eyes bugged out and his mouth dropped open in an agonized howl. Joyce backed hastily away, running into Giles and sending them both to the ground in a thrashing heap. They watched, stunned, as Angel began to whirl in a futile circle, one arm slapping ineffectually at the snarling appendage that had set her teeth and hung on tenaciously.

“Beauty! Heel, girl. Stop chewing on the annoying vampire,” a familiar voice called cheerfully.

It was Xander, dressed in his usual eye-watering Hawaiian print shirt and wrinkled khaki’s, but with one difference. A long black leather coat hung from his shoulders as he swaggered across the lawn.

“Xander?” Finally free of razor-sharp teeth, Angel staggered to his feet. The hand he’d pressed to his abused derriere came away streaked with blood and he shot an evil glare at the beast that was curled up at the boy’s feet. Completely unfazed, Beauty growled back, eyes glinting with red and yellow sparks.

Skipping over Xander’s smug, laughing face, Angel stared with narrowed eyes at the car. “I know that car,” he said through clenched teeth. He turned back to Xander. “And I know that coat.” An absurdly hopeful expression suffused his face. “Please tell me Buffy dusted Spike and gave you his things.”

“Hate to disappoint you, big guy…well, no I don’t, ‘cause it’s just too funny how far off base you really are,” Xander snickered.

As if on cue, a flashy little red car screeched to a halt scant centimeters from the DeSoto’s back bumper. A paler than normal Spike was clinging to the dash with both hands, every foul word in his extensive vocabulary spilling from taut white lips.

Behind the wheel sat a very wind-blown slayer, a small, toffee-colored ball of fur purring happily on her shoulder.

TBC~

It was funny how easily you could forget the very worst of memories when you were given exactly the right incentive. Tearing along the highway with the wind in her hair, her ambiguous lover at her side and a brand new little pet kitty on her shoulder, were exactly the very things Buffy needed to push her emotionally desperate year behind her and get ready for a continuation of what had so far been the ride of her life.

Feeling surer of said new lover’s intentions was also worlds of good. It was uncanny how the abrupt eradication of his past too-long-lived love of his life made the transition as smooth as honey. Seeing Dru flutter to the dirt driveway had done her shaky confidence in catching the guy a boatload of good and Buffy honestly felt like she was buzzing now with health, humour and happiness. If the sight of Angel on her front lawn petting his bloodied behind didn’t kill the mood, then she felt really positive about how she was going to cope with the no doubt touchy reception she and Spike were about to receive. If anything, seeing the palmful of blood made Buffy want to giggle insanely. Served him right for trying to storm his way back into her life—even if she hadn’t been there to notice.

A sideways glance showed her a casual, yet beaming Xander as he tried hard to control his snickering recapture of Beauty. The most difficult hurdle had already been jumped and Xander—if not best drinking buddies yet, then surely close enough to it—seemed okay with her being with Spike. With her falling in love with Spike. As long as he got to howl with laughter at Angel’s sad predicament, she was willing to bet he was fine with all sorts of ‘her and Spike’ things.

The comfort and security she felt in sharing at least some of her break away with the transition of her friend to the reality of her new boyfriend was a welcome relief. Xander might snark and make out he hated Spike’s ever-undead guts, but Buffy knew the truth, and it made her feel warm and giddy with the happy.

Okay, so it was time to face the music, but knowing she had both Spike and Xander at her back, and the very sharp teeth of Beauty ready to go to bat for her, was enough for Buffy to alight from the car, thrust her enthusiastically mewing kitty into Spike’s shaking hands, and run forth to embrace her mother.

“MOM! It’s so good to see you. And look, I brought pets!”

Joyce gasped and coughed against Buffy’s attempts to squeeze her in half, and patted her daughter weakly on the back.

“Th-that’s wonderful, Buffy.” Two seconds more and she’d have to appeal to Rupert before she passed out from lack of breath, but Buffy was letting her go and looking toward her watcher with an expression of meek faux-apology on her face.

“Sorry for the impromptu holiday, Giles. I just had some things I needed to sort out.” A great shiver passed through her body as Spike plastered himself to her back, an arm curling around her belly while his hand almost tossed the kitten at Giles. The startled cat spat and hissed as it grasped hold with the power of four sets of claws, needle sharp as they penetrated his regulation tweed and drew blood on his chest and shoulder. Giles squawked as he tried to peel the feline off without pulling several threads, and she hissed again in his face.

“G-good kitty,” he stammered, trying to calm the ball of fluff before he became a bloodied treat for the resident evil accumulating on Joyce’s front lawn.

“Brought you a playmate,” Spike drawled and Buffy heard the clink of his lighter as he lit up in defiance of the supposed authority figures facing him down.

“Hey,” she started in objection before Spike squeezed her closer to his hard body.

“Sorry, Pet. I know how much you wanted to present the…adorable little…animal to your watcher. Guess I buggered the big moment up completely.” His voice was full of apology, but Buffy knew that wasn’t the real Spike. The real Spike would be underhanded and evil in his motives, and thinking such meant she easily uncovered the real truth of his handing her kitty over in such a manner. Poor baby thought he was competing against the pets for her. Silly vamp should have known those monsters wouldn’t get in the way of her showing him all the love she had to give and that Angel had rejected.

And boy, now that she’d had the chance to step back and see what the world had to offer, she was super glad that he had done that. She was ever grateful that Spike had been bent on getting Dru back and had kidnapped her out of a looming depression over Angel’s departure. Had taken her away from a summer promising nothing but ice-cream and heartache. Yeah, he’d earned her love now, and as much as the cute kitty and Beauty stirred the tender feelings, she so wasn’t taking them to bed at night.

Not that her front yard was really the place for her to be having such potentially steamy thoughts, because just one second’s suggestion of Spike in her bed had her eyes glazing over and her lower regions twitching in aching hunger. And Angel knew it. His narrowed eyes blackened at her and Buffy shrunk automatically away, bumping further against Spike’s hard body.

“Buffy, erm…can you please explain what Spike is doing here?” Giles requested, his gaze stunned as his jaw hung slackly.

Grateful for the chance to look away from Angel, Buffy sighed and turned to Giles…and her words caught in her throat. What was she supposed to say? That Spike kidnapped her, got her well and truly off on the hood of his car before involving her in the craziest road race against demon mafia that had possibly ever occurred?

A light bulb flashed in her head and Buffy beamed in relief. “Spike needed my help…with Drusilla.”

The only reaction was silence and three sets of eyes stared at her for something more—something that could explain the complete fleeing of her senses.

Giles opened his mouth to speak, seemed to lose the momentum with a click of his teeth, before trying valiantly one more time. “Spike, a vicious murderous vampire, just casually dropped by and asked for your help?”

Before Buffy could say a word, Spike huffed indignantly. “Oi! Bloody evil, here. Didn’t bleeding well ask the Slayer. Made her, didn’ I.”

Xander choked down a laugh and nearly bent in half to hide his escalating snickers from Buffy’s irritated glare.

“What the hell were you doing allowing Spike to make you do anything? There should have been nothing to do but stake him.” The assumed insult weighed heavily in his wounded expression and Buffy could see that Angel was as close to heartbroken as she’d ever seen him. Only she had the feeling it had more to do with the fact that she did another thing—and willingly—with Spike, rather than being hurt that she’d apparently fallen for someone other than him. That it was another vampire, and one of his own family, had relatively little importance in the equation. Angel was hurt that she’d disappeared immediately his grand departure and that she wasn’t at home wallowing over his loss; instead, she was screaming along the highway of life and finding out why Drusilla had stayed with Spike for a hundred years when she could have skipped out long before. The girl had had some measure of sense, even if reuniting with Angelus had finally robbed her of the final remnants of it.

“Well, Slayer’s quick on the decision-making when there’s a demon mafia out for blood and it’s of no concern if it’s of the human or demon variety.” Spike smirked, letting his hand spread and lower on Buffy’s abdomen. He knew he wasn’t the only one who could sense how hot she was becoming, and he felt confident for the first time in his existence that the girl wasn’t gushing over a moment with his grandsire. She was getting wet because of him and her need for the way he made her feel.

Buffy looked up into Spike’s face and saw the leftover shadow of his vulnerability and was glad that he was sure of her. She’d have to beat him senseless if she had to waste precious time making him see reason. Angel had left her and she’d moved on. She was sad about her past, sad that Angel had slipped away in her heart, but it was a necessary part of growing up, and she truly had. She’d allowed other experiences to infiltrate her rigid façade and she’d gained because of it. She’d gained Spike, and he was reward enough. He was truly a golden moment that had brought light and shade evenly to her life and she was forever grateful for it.

Affection made her whole body tingle and her heart squeeze excitedly and Buffy knew it was finally time. She was back—and with Spike—and it was really nobodies business but hers. Well, okay, maybe she owed Giles a teeny explanation why an evil soulless vampire was her new love slave…and perhaps she should do a bit more than flash her chunk of salty goodness in her mother’s direction before they disappeared on an impromptu patrol, but really, so wasn’t in the mood right now.

She was back in Sunnydale; that was all that mattered. Any demons who had the thought of corrupting the Hellmouth further would find their plans suddenly thwarted by her presence. Any strange army outfit would find out that they didn’t rule in the place where evil festered and schemed. This was her town and she was going to make sure it stayed that way—with a little bit of help from Spike, if she could twist his arm. And she was more than sure she could. Last time she’d almost dislocated it and that was kind of painful—for both of them!

Nope, all prospects looked peachy and Buffy felt a shiver of anticipation for the many nights ahead of her. She was all College Girl now, with the books and the learning and the progression toward a working profession. But most of all, she was the Slayer and her lover was her equal in strength and emotion and right now she wanted to find a nice, nostalgic place to screw his brains out and relieve him with words of acceptance.

“Angel, you really should do something about all that blood gushing from your ass.” Xander’s comic timing was always perfect and Buffy couldn’t hold back the giggle, even as Angel’s hurt brown eyes flashed flickering amber at her.

He looked longingly at her front door until Joyce stepped forward and glared her refusal to present him with an invitation. He looked about to push the point, perhaps enough to beg, when Beauty jumped forward and growled menacingly, teeth bared and eyes almost glowing red in the dark.

Giles jumped, looking warily at the bloodthirsty animal and stepped cautiously toward his car. “P-perhaps you should come with me, Angel. A-and Buffy, first thing in the morning I’ll expect a-an explanation?”

“Sure thing, Giles,” she agreed, waving happily and more grateful than she should be at bringing Beauty home with her. She had a feeling the little dog would be just the thing to have around the house to protect them from overly-curious friends and enemies.

“Can I drive the penis-mobile home, Buff? I’m not sure Spike’s old clunker will even start up again.” Xander jumped back as Spike turned and snarled furiously at the brunette.

“What’d you bloody do to my car, Whelp?”

“Drove it, fangface. Not my fault the Buffster put some dainty holes in it first.” His giggle sounded girlish as he almost danced forward, plucked the keys out of Buffy’s loose fist and ran like a teenager to the fancy sports car on the curb. He was out of there with an exaggerated roar and a squeal of rubber and Buffy found herself alone with a half amused, half angry mother.

“Not the Slayer’s fault, Joyce.” Spike was the first to jump in and do damage control. He wasn’t so long dead and clueless that he could recognise that an irate mother might be a stumbling block if he planned to continue shagging Buffy into exhaustion on a regular basis.

“I didn’t think so, Spike. And believe it or not, I’m not sure I’m really ready for the details.” She smiled and there was much releasing of breath as one worry bit the dust. Buffy hopped happily before springing at her mother once again, encompassing her in a warm, relieved hug.

“Details are so over-rated,” the Slayer agreed before seizing Spike’s hand and slowly tugging him away from the house. “Giles said there were weird Hellmouthy things happening with some government group. Maybe Spike and I should go out for a quick patrol and see what’s the what. We could swing by the Bronze and see if Willow is there with Oz. Oh, and you don’t mind if Spike stays with us do you?” Refusing to hear a possible denial, Buffy sprung away down the street, dragging Spike behind her. She had one thing on her mind and her whole body itched to get there before she lost her nerve. It was one thing to be all free with lovin’ when they were isolated from the majority of the world, but now she was home Buffy was almost desperate to establish their relationship in familiar surroundings, making sure that wherever they were, whatever situation they found themselves in, they’d always be together.

She knew just the place. It was perfect for her to show him how much he meant to her and how much she wanted him—and would always want him. It wasn’t long before she came to a stop in the alley outside the Bronze, a heady laugh escaping her lips as she ran in and staked one of the inconsequential monsters of the night preying on an innocent girl. It was just like when they’d met and Buffy almost squealed for joy as Spike clapped his hands in memory behind her.

“Honey?” Buffy called, her voice all breathless and laden with desire as she stared at the back door of the Bronze and waited for Spike’s next move.

She gasped as she suddenly felt him connect with her back, his hands splayed on her hips as he dragged her back and stabbed her ass with his erection.

“Yes, Pet?” His low, gravely voice sent sparks of desire exploding at pleasure points throughout her body and Buffy felt like she was melting into his embrace. Fusing to his skin. She could hear the music pumping in the club, could hear the laughter and shouting from the patrons both inside and some out, and she could feel the throbbing spidey presence of a vamp in the area—and one that wasn’t now cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her summer top.

“What do you think of celebrating our return with something special? Something we’ll remember forever?”

Spike chuckled in her ear and the coolness of his breath made her heart flutter precariously.

“Baby, you read my mind.”

Before she could blink, Spike was dragging her further away from the entrance, hiding her in the shadowed darkness where he’d been that first eventful night they’d met. The one when he’d announced the most momentous Saturday that had never happened.

He crushed her against a brick wall and claimed her lips in the first kiss they’d shared in Sunnydale. He delivered passion in the very first caress. Caused her heart to thump desperately with the first curl of his tongue against hers. And then he brought her the moon, the stars and the universe with a gentle hand on her cheek. The kiss ended on a sweet note and Buffy saw the exact thing in his eyes that she’d been hoping for, and with a deep breath, finally blurted the truth that had been hidden in her heart these past weeks at least.

“Spike?” She trembled in his arms, the light air barely touching her skin but the warm eagerness in his eyes searing her soul. His nod was all the go she was waiting for and Buffy sighed happily before pressing a soft kiss on his cheek and then moving in toward his ear. “I love you.”

It was craziness; a slayer falling in love with a soulless vampire should have been too wrong for the fates to allow, and yet here they were, embracing each other tightly, a sense of permanence holding their hearts captive.

His smile was brilliant and Buffy knew everything would be okay. It didn’t matter if her watcher or remaining friends approved, it didn’t matter if her mother forbid her to date another vampire. What mattered was what she had right here and now, even if it was rather obscene. Spike slipped his zipper down and hiked up her skirt before lifting her up to straddle his hips, the bulging head of his cock rubbing insistently against her opening.

“Buffy,” he whispered, awed as he slid inside her and moaned at her familiar warmth. Then he caught his tongue between his teeth and peered at her, brimming with cocky confidence. “What’s not to love?”

It took a moment, but the words finally broke through the haze building from the pleasure of his cock rubbing against her walls, and Buffy gawped. “You pig!”

Spike chuckled, good humour reverberating through him as he jiggled her roughly and sent her cross-eyed. “You know, Buffy. You already know I love you. Wouldn’t have started such a harebrained scheme to get you all alone if I didn’t already have feelings for you. I just thought they were doomed and you’d stake me.”

He set up a steady rhythm and watched her, driving her toward bliss even as she considered his words and found the sadness in them to be heartbreaking. But he’d risked his existence and they’d pushed beyond the impossible, the sometimes ridiculous, and Xander, and they’d found each other. They’d found a love that was abiding and deep.

And as dark, sad eyes watched them fuck against a wall, Angel could admit that was really what he’d wanted for her all along.

And it was really time to go home.




The End.

A/N My greatest apologies to the readers for taking so long to finish this fic off. It’s been a crazy ride from that very first chapter and many of you have spurred on Tami and I along the way. We are so very grateful to all those who have offered encouragement, graphics, reviews and an audience. Without you we’d not have come this far. Our greatest love and thank you’s to Bloodshedbaby, without whose birthday this puppy would never have been born, and to schehrezade for issuing the challenge of a road trip in the first place. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride to the last and that you’ll be with us along any other ventures we might take together. God bless.