Prologue


Buffy sat up on her sun lounger and reached for the tall glass which she’d placed on a nearby table.

Taking a long sip of ice cold water, she sighed, slipping off the sunglasses that hid her gold-flecked green eyes. The backdrop of the beautiful north Californian landscape was the perfect complement to the grounds which made up a large part of the estate – a botanical paradise with a wide stone patio and private pool at the centre.

She missed her husband. As usual, prominent lawyer, Angel O’Connor was down in Los Angeles, defending his clients, and earning an extensive amount of money for doing so. Money that paid for the lavish surroundings she was currently enjoying.

The nights when Angel was gone were always the worst. Buffy missed the warmth of his arms as he held her and when she was alone, listening to the whisper of the trees outside her window, she couldn’t help but feel a little homesick.

Although born in L.A., she’d grown up in the small suburban town of Sunnydale, where she and her mother had moved to after her father walked out them when Buffy was only four. After graduating high school, she’d moved to New York to study art at college, but after a relationship with a fellow artist went sour, she’d returned to L.A., where her career had suddenly taken off after a wealthy art collector bought some of her paintings.

Less than six months after her arrival, she’d met Angel at a party and it had been akin to being hit with a thunderbolt. He was handsome and charming and seemingly perfect in every way. They’d become lovers that same night and the next day, they’d flown north to his oceanfront home, where four short weeks later, in the presence of a handful of family and close friends, she’d become Mrs Angel O’Connor.

She was startled suddenly from her memories by the unmistakeable sound of the wrought iron gates to the property being opened. Angel! He was home! Jumping up, Buffy slipped on her sandals and hurried round to the front of the house where Angel’s Porsche had stopped in a shower of gravel.

“Buffy!” he cried, as he leapt from the vehicle, pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly. “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you so much.”

Joy swept through her as she looked into Angel’s beautiful brown eyes. “Oh, Angel, I love you,” she whispered, settling in his arms. “And I’m so glad your home.”


Buffy delved her toes into the soft white sand of their private beach and looked out to sea. About a hundred yards offshore, Angel sliced through the white crested waves of the Pacific on a Jet Ski.

She sighed. Although she was given to worrying about her husband’s ‘need for speed’, it was a part of him and she loved him regardless. And in spite of his adventurous side, he knew how to look after himself and she just had to find a way to stop worrying and trust him.

She loved him so much that sometimes she felt she’d burst if she couldn’t be with him. She knew he needed to work off the stress from his trip and after that he would all hers.

She looked out across the water again. Angel was nearer to the shore now, except there appeared to be a narrow line of blue flame flickering along the edge of the Jet Ski. No. She must be seeing things...

Buffy fell to the ground, as the explosion shook the heavens. Then only tiny waves interrupted the mirror-like surface and the water was serene and quiet again.

The Jet Ski was gone.

Angel was gone.


Chapter 1


Five years later

Buffy O’Connor beat her fingers against the steering wheel in an anxious tattoo as she sat in her black Lexus convertible, waiting for the lights ahead to change. Crawling through traffic at any time was irritating enough, but when she was only a few blocks from her apartment, it was really infuriating.

When her car phone rang, she leaned across the console and activated the speaker button.

“Hi Spike.”

“Hello, luv,” a British accented male voice on the other end of the line replied in daunting softness.

“What’s up?”

“We’re currently circling Van Nuys so we should be landing in a few minutes. Where are you, pet?”

“In my car. I’ve been doing some shopping.”

“Oh, really?” The tone of his voice dropped to a sexy murmur. “Buy anything nice?”

“Oh, something very, very skimpy.”

She heard him curse under his breath. “Don’t tempt me.”

“How long are you here for this time?” she asked.

“I’m not quite sure – three or four days max. I have an important business dinner scheduled for tomorrow night – any idea where I might find an insanely beautiful woman to accompany me?”

“I’m sure we can find someone to satisfy your requirements.”

He chuckled. “Listen, I have to go now, but we can talk about it when I get there.”

“Really?” she said as she took the left turn onto her street. “Talking is the last thing I had in mind.”

This time his cursing was more colourful. “How bloody long does it take to land a plane?”

“Is something wrong, Spike?” she asked, her smile widening.

“Pet, you have no idea,” he replied, with a slight groan. “Goodbye, Buffy.”

“Goodbye, Spike.”

She disconnected the call and turned her car into the underground parking lot beneath her building. Manoeuvring the vehicle into her private parking space, she killed the engine, got out and lifted her shopping bags out of the trunk, before locking the doors, pocketing the auto-sensor and heading for the elevator which would take her up to the sixth and top floor of the exclusive residence. The elevator opened out onto a small private vestibule, where she unlocked the studded oak door and gained entry to the stylishly furnished apartment beyond it.

The floors were solid oak graced with Italian rugs, which offset the matching oak furniture. Soft Italian leather sofas and scatter cushions dominated the lounge which flowed into a traditional dining room and kitchen, the walls dotted with framed paintings of Renaissance art.

The master bedroom and two en suite guest bedrooms displayed matching drapes and bedcovers, the former boasting glass doors that opened out onto two balconies, with beautiful views of the city and a queen-size bed in the centre of the room with Egyptian cotton sheets and a silk comforter. The ivory marble master en suite was fitted with a spa bath and double shower.

Dropping her bags into a nearby armchair, Buffy headed through to the kitchen for a drink. She filled a glass with chilled mineral water from the refrigerator and after draining the contents, she put the glass in the dishwasher and took her new purchases through to her bedroom, where she removed her jewellery and her clothes en route to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she re-entered the bedroom, a towel anchored around her slim body in the style of a sarong and her towel-dried hair falling around her shoulders, Settling herself in front of the mirror, Buffy blow-dried her hair until it once more resembled spun gold. With a year-round California tan, cosmetic enhancement was limited to coat of mascara to her eyelashes and a touch of gloss to her lips. Removing her purchases from their bags, she slipped them on and moved to stand in front of the full length mirror, assessing the image it portrayed with a smile. The black lace baby-doll chemise and Brazilian-cut panties from Agent Provocateur made the most of her slender and toned figure and were guaranteed to drive Spike crazy.

Just as she was dabbing a few drops of her favourite Nina Ricci fragrance to her pulse points, Buffy heard the sound of a key turning in the lock and giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, she went to greet her visitor. Stopping in her bedroom doorway, she watched as he set down his luggage and then straightened and she steeled herself for full ‘Spike’ impact.

Five-feet-ten inches of devastating sensuality, William ‘Spike’ Giles was the epitome of male beauty with razor sharp cheekbones and eyes so blue that you could get lost in them. His crown of bleach blond hair warned of wickedness beneath the surface and dressed head to toe in black Armani, he could turn any woman on with nary a look, and Buffy was no exception.

“Bloody hell,” Spike groaned when he saw her, his eyes roving over the scraps of lace covering her trim body.

“I take it you approve?” she asked, her mouth curving into a smile.

His answer was a single curse.

Buffy lifted an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?” she asked with a hand on her hip as she leaned against the doorframe. “Well, maybe, I can be of assistance.”

She saw the desire flare in his eyes as she moved closer. When there was only an inch separating them, he curled a hand around her waist and brought her body flush against his. Both of her hands landed on his hard muscular chest and she could feel his heart beating as rapidly as her own, in counterpart to the hard jut of his erection. She curled her fingers around the lapels of his jacket and pulling him to her, she pressed her mouth to his.

The moment their lips touched, it was as if someone had covered them with gasoline and struck a match. Spike’s hands splayed across her lace-covered back and his tongue invaded her mouth, giving no quarter as he propelled her back through the door to her bedroom. Shedding his jacket, she began to work on the buttons of his shirt, while his hands took hold of the hem of her chemise and lifted it up over her head, dropping it to the floor in a pool of lace.

When they reached the bed, Spike propelled her gently backwards until she was lying down and then stood up to take off the remainder of his clothes. Buffy’s eyes locked onto him, her mouth running dry and her pulses racing, as he unveiled his marble-like torso. He was like a statue of a Greek god, a work of masculine art.

Removing his trousers, he joined her between the sheets. He wore no underwear, so when he covered her body with his, she felt the hard heat of his cock pressing against her. His mouth sought hers again and their tongues mated as he started stroking her breasts with his fingertips and cupping them in his hot palms. Buffy moaned and her breath caught as he expertly caressed the hardened peaks with the pads of his thumbs, before he bent his head and, with lazy calculation, ran his tongue over one aching tip.

She gasped, her whole body jerking at the contact. Her moans increased as he drew her nipple into his mouth and alternatively plagued her with his tongue and the playful bite of his teeth. He continued to torture her and Buffy’s temperature reached fever pitch as the pleasure built up inside her. As he persisted in his attempt to drive her out of her mind, his hand slipped between her thighs, pushing against the lace that was veiling her hot wet pussy from his touch.

Taking hold of the lace, he ripped it from her body, giving a mildly apologetic shrug when their eyes met. It didn’t matter to her that he’d ruined the garment; she loved bringing out the animal in him. She grew even more aroused as he touched her intimately, softly stroking her and she cried out when he slipped two of his fingers inside her, making her body tremble.

“You’re so wet for me, luv,” Spike murmured, his accent thicker than usual.

Buffy moaned, her hips bucking to meet his thrusting fingers. “Yes, just for you.”

“Oh…uh…Spike…” she whimpered, as his thumb located her clit and drew the tension higher. “So good…uh…oh…oh…”

Her breathing quickened and the pressure built in the pit of her stomach like a freight train moving at a hundred miles an hour.

“Oh…oh, my…Spike!”

Crying out his name, she came hard, her whole body shaking.

She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his fingers into his mouth before leaning in to kiss her and she tasted herself on his tongue. Her body still quivering with aftershocks, she moved her hand between them and curled it around his hard cock.

Spike’s eyes were shut tight and his breathing laboured as she touched him, her thumb rubbing against the head on each upward stroke and making him gasp. He endured her ministrations for little more than a minute, before pulling her hand away and kissing her again, heated, fervent kisses, his tongue moving against hers. Buffy gave a frustrated moan when he abandoned her mouth, but he didn’t move far, settling in the hollow of her neck, as he ground his erection in maddening motions against her.

He ran his hands down her body, briefly brushing her nipples with his thumbs, then curling them over her thighs and locking her legs around his waist, he entered her in one smooth thrust.

She clenched her inner muscles and Spike sucked in a breath as acute awareness assaulted him. He chanted her name in a litany as he moved within her, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

“Spike...” Buffy gasped, arching her back as they found the perfect tempo.

They rocked together as they both neared climax. Intense sensations gathered deep inside her and tremors ripped through her as she came for a second time screaming his name, her body shattering around him as his own orgasm shook him to the core. Feeling his cock spasm inside her drew out Buffy’s pleasure and the whole world caved in around her.

Spike awoke a few hours later and lay comfortably on his side watching Buffy as she slept.

Damn, she was beautiful. Her golden skin faintly glowed in the fading light, her blonde hair was softly tousled and her face wore the expression of a woman who was completely sated.

To know he’d been the one to bring her to the pinnacle of pleasure – and more than once – was immensely satisfying. The sex between them had always been incredible, but he also felt comfortable around her, knowing that she expected nothing from him, emotionally speaking. As a red-blooded heterosexual male, he needed a woman in his bed, but he had not yet met one who could accept that he wasn’t interested in anything beyond physical gratification – they always wanted more from him than he was prepared to give.

But Buffy was different and she’d kept him guessing ever since he met her almost a year ago, when she’d come to London for an art exhibition. They’d both been invited to dinner at the home of Quentin and Olivia Travers – Quentin was a business associate of Spike’s and Buffy was good friends with Olivia, who ran an art gallery in the city. They’d both arrived without partners, which Olivia had used as an excuse to sit them together.

Although they’d only engaged in polite small talk during dinner, after the party retired to the lounge for coffee, they’d embarked on an in-depth discussion on art. Buffy was both well-educated and articulate and it had been a pleasure to meet a beautiful woman with whom he could have an intelligent conversation. All of his former girlfriends had been the essence of beauty, elegance and charm, but none of them had matched him in intellect.

When the evening had come to an end and he’d offered to give her a ride back to the Dorchester Hotel where she was staying, she’d gratefully accepted. And when she’d invited him up to her suite for a night-cap, sex had seemed inevitable. And it had been a sensational night.

The following morning, he’d been prepared to put an end to any plans she might have for a subsequent relationship with him, until she’d thrown him a curveball by suggesting that they could be lovers with no-strings attached, reasoning that it would be mutually beneficial for them both, since they enjoyed each other’s company and the previous night had proved beyond all doubt that they were sexually compatible.

Initially he’d been more than a little sceptical – he knew from experience that while some women might be able to entertain the idea of such a casual relationship, in the end they all wanted the same thing – the ring, the white picket fence and the two point four children.

It was only when she’d told him about her late husband that it had all begun to make sense.

She’d admitted that losing her husband had grieved her more than she could ever have imagined and that she never wanted to endure that kind of heartache again. Thus she’d resolved never to let herself fall in love again, because she knew she’d only be setting herself up for an even bigger fall.

He’d appreciated her openness and honesty – they were rare qualities to find in a woman, well, at least in the women of his acquaintance. And so he’d agreed to her proposal, making sure they were both clear on the terms of their arrangement – whenever they were in the same city, they would attend any necessary business and social functions together and out of the public eye, they would enjoy the sexual benefits of their relationship.

He had numerous business contacts in the States and as the CEO of Giles Enterprises, his job involved frequent international travel. Whenever he flew out to L.A., he knew there would be a warm bed waiting for him and when on occasion Buffy’s work brought her to London, he’d return the favour. Corresponding schedules had also allowed them to meet up in New York and Paris and they’d even spent a long weekend in the Napa Valley after Spike had bought shares in a vineyard out there.

Buffy was as close to being the perfect woman as he’d ever known – she was the ideal companion to accompany him to both business dinners and social events and she possessed intelligence and wit that made everybody love her. And she was amazing in bed – he couldn’t imagine there being a time when he wouldn’t want her.

He looked over at her again. She’d shifted in her sleep and the sheet had slipped down, baring one perfectly round breast with its rose-coloured nipple. He felt his senses stir and for a moment, he considered rousing her from sleep, touching her in the way he knew drove her wild and making her come apart for him again. But she looked so beautiful lying there, her soft lips parted slightly that he was content to let her sleep.

With a husky groan, he rolled over, slid to his feet and walked naked into the en suite, where he stepped under the shower. As he stood beneath the warm needles of water, his mind switched to the business dinner he had scheduled for the following evening – the main reason for his trip. He was meeting with two brothers who needed financial backing for a revolutionary software product they wanted to launch onto the national market.

While Spike had no doubt that the meeting would go exactly the way he wanted, it wouldn’t hurt having Buffy on his arm – the majority of men were more easily influenced when in the presence of a beautiful woman and undoubtedly they’d be envious knowing that he would be the one going home with her.

He couldn’t help thinking back to the warm welcome he’d received on his arrival earlier that evening, Buffy’s lissom body barely clad in a few scraps of lace, igniting his desire within seconds. He knew the image of her would be burned into his brain for a long time to come, even when they were thousands of miles apart.

In the whole of his thirty years, only one other woman had ever affected him like that.

Spike frowned when the stray thought registered. It had been a long time since he’d thought about Drusilla. She belonged firmly in his past, but tonight she’d crept unbidden into his mind.

Drusilla. His best friend’s widow. A woman whose beauty was as dark as her heart. He’d allowed himself to fall in lust with her and Ethan had paid the price for his folly.

All those familiar feelings of self-condemnation washed over him. The guilt that would never go away. The remorse that he would always have to live with. Damn it! As he slammed his fist against the wall, he heard a noise behind him, but before he could turn, two hands encircled his waist and imprisoned him. He felt Buffy against him, her soft breasts pressed against his back and all thoughts of Drusilla and his enduring guilt faded as she turned him around to face her and pressed her mouth against his.

Pulling away from the kiss, Spike took in the image of her standing in front of him, naked and wet. Her hair was plastered to her head and tiny pearls of water balanced on her eyelashes, her breasts were full and soft, the nipples hardened into taut peaks, her stomach was flat and toned and her pussy had been waxed bare save for a small vertical strip.

He kissed her again, reuniting their tongues in a sensual tango, as his thumbs tormented her nipples, his renewed erection pressing it’s hard, throbbing life into her stomach. Then lifting her up, he wrapped both of her thighs around his hips before pressing her back against the wall of the shower and thrusting himself inside her.

He groaned as her slick flesh consumed him and they began to move together, their lazy rhythm quickly growing more frenzied. Moving his hand between them, Spike stroked her clit, kindling the fire smouldering inside her and ushering her towards the precipice, he felt her shudder with pleasure.

Buffy cried out as her body shattered and at the feel of her muscles convulsing around him, sheer physical energy overwhelmed him and groaning her name, he came, bringing heaven raining down upon them.

The kettle on top of the stove began to boil as Buffy spooned Italian roast into the coffee press. When steam began to filter from the spout, she lifted it from the heat and poured the hot water into the glass jug.

Leaving it to brew, she went through to the bathroom for a shower and afterwards, she secured her damp hair with a butterfly clip and rubbed herself dry. Standing naked, with one foot lifted onto the bathroom stool to make her task easier, she began applying fragranced body lotion to her skin.

When the bathroom door swung open, she glanced up to see Spike standing there naked. Without saying a word, he walked over to her and removed the bottle of lotion from her grasp, then moving his hand to the nape of her neck, he pulled her to him and took her mouth with his. The kiss was deep and devouring and even when he pulled away, Buffy could still taste him on her tongue.

“Good morning, luv,” he breathed, his lips still only an inch from hers.

“And I would love to spend it getting reacquainted,” she said, drawing circles on his chest. “But unfortunately, we both have work to do.”

“Hmm, I’d much rather play with you.”

“Well, Mr Giles, I think you need to learn that you can’t always get what you want,” she mock scolded him. “And as much as I would love to ignore our commitments, I’m afraid duty calls. Literally,” she added, when the sound of his ringing cell phone filtered through to them.

Spike sighed before stepping away from her and walking back through the door to retrieve his phone and answer the call. After finishing with the lotion, Buffy joined Spike in the bedroom, where he stood talking in rapid-fire Italian, having covered his nakedness with a pair of tight black boxers. While he dealt with business, she pulled on a pair of black Vivienne Westwood tailored pants, a white Prada silk blouse and black Louis Vuitton stiletto pumps, before drying her hair and applying makeup.

Back in the kitchen, Buffy poured herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee and slotted some bread into the toaster. She had almost finished eating her breakfast when Spike entered the room dressed in another black designer suit, this time with a grey hand-stitched shirt and black silk tie.

“Problem?” she asked as he helped himself to coffee.

“It’s nothing major,” he answered. “I have to go. I’m in and out of meetings all day, but I’ll call you later and let you know the arrangements for tonight.”

She followed him to the door. “Okay. I’m glad to have a legitimate excuse to go shopping in my lunch hour.”

“There’s nothing suitable in your wardrobe?”

“Oh, there probably is, but you know how much I love to shop.”

He brushed her mouth briefly with his. “Indeed I do,” he said, before glancing down, his eyes firing up when he saw the way her fitted blouse moulded her full breasts and the v-shaped neckline displayed her cleavage. “Actually, I think you’re right. You should definitely buy something new.”

She placed her hands on her hips and shot him a lock of mock irritation. “Are you saying you don’t like the way I dress?”

His blue eyes flashed with wickedness. “Uh huh,” he said as he started to undo the buttons that ran down the front of her blouse. “And I think this has got to go for a start…”

“Behave, Spike,” she said with a smile as she pushed his hands away and refastened the buttons which he’d undone.

“I could cancel my meetings.”

“No you can’t,” she told him. “And I have to be at the gallery. Now go.”

“Bye, luv,” he said, pouting, before finally making his exit.

Closing the door behind him, she returned to the kitchen to finish her coffee and toast. Then picking up her purse, she slipped her keys inside along with her cell phone and wallet and rode the elevator down to the parking lot.

After deactivating the locking system, she slid into her car and within minutes, she was integrated into the morning traffic and heading towards the gallery she owned on west Wilshire. On arrival, she took the elevator up to the fourth floor and entering through the glass doors, she stopped at the desk of her assistant Willow to collect her mail, before heading into her office.

She’d opened the gallery four years ago, having bought it seven months after Angel’s death. Although her own work had suffered greatly in the wake of her loss, she’d realised that she could still put her talent to good use. Gradually, she’d begun to paint again, but by then she loved working at the gallery too much to give it up.

Buffy had just sat down in the plush leather chair behind her desk when Willow popped her head round the door.

“Miss McClay just called to confirm your ten thirty appointment.”

“Okay, thanks Will,” Buffy said with a smile. Tara McClay was a promising new artist and Buffy was considering showcasing some of her work.

The morning went by quickly with Buffy going through her mail and making some phone calls before Tara arrived. After the meeting, she headed straight out, having arranged to have lunch with her best friend, Faith and wanting to go via Rodeo Drive to look for a dress to wear for dinner.

Heading out into the reception area, she was only mildly surprised to see Tara still there, chatting with Willow. Although she was technically an employee, Willow was also a good friend and Buffy knew that she had recently split up with her girlfriend, Kennedy. Buffy already sensed a little chemistry between her assistant and her newest client and it would be good to see Willow happy again.

Walking past them, she smiled as she left the gallery.


After trawling a number of designer boutiques, Buffy found the perfect dress for dinner and with a smile on her face and an assortment of bags in her hands, she walked the block and a half to the bistro restaurant where she had arranged to meet Faith. She was looking forward to seeing her best friend, who had spontaneously flown in from New York the day before. They’d first met during their freshman year at Columbia University and with their close friendship extending beyond graduation, they’d kept their promise to stay in touch despite living at opposite ends of the country.

Entering the foyer of the chic establishment, Buffy was warmly greeted by the maitre d’ and shown to a table. Ten minutes later, she was sipping the chilled mineral water she’d ordered, when Faith slid into the opposite seat.

“The traffic was murder,” she offered up as another excuse for her acute tardiness, before ordering a Jack Daniels on the rocks.

Buffy smiled knowingly. “Shall we order?”

“Yeah, I’m starved.” Faith glanced over the menu before opting for the crab ravioli, while Buffy chose the grilled chicken salad.

“So what are you doing in L.A.?” she asked, when the waiter left.

Faith grinned and reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small white envelope and slid it across the table.

“Well, I wanted to give this to you in person.”

Buffy picked up the envelope with a bemused frown and pulled out the card inside, gasping when she read what was written on the front. For a few seconds, shock robbed her of speech.

“What?” she exclaimed when she was finally able to answer. “You’re...you’re getting married?”

“Uh huh,” Faith replied with a grin. “You have to be my maid of honour, B. I’ll be lost without you there.” Amused by the look of astonishment on Buffy’s face, she continued, “And I can’t wait for you to meet Robin – he works on Wall Street and has a black belt in taekwondo.”

“Hmm, sounds like your soulmate.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t believe in all that Hallmark trash.”

“I found mine,” Buffy said softly.

And lost him, she thought. The horrific scene of Angel’s death when a random electrical fault had blasted his Jet Ski to smithereens only a few months after their wedding was captured forever in her memory.

After the funeral, Buffy had sold the estate in northern California and returned home to Sunnydale, where her mother, stepfather and half-sister Dawn had helped her through her grief during the months it took her to turn her life around.

And when she’d decided to open the gallery in L.A. and had begun moving among her old circle of friends, she’d known that everything she did would be being carefully scrutinized for an indication of her emotional distress. And today five years on, her pain and anguish hadn’t faded – she had simply put her grief behind her in an effort to move on with her life as Angel would have wanted, while never forgetting the wonderful but brief time when she’d been truly happy.

Buffy knew that Faith had always struggled to know what to say when the subject of her tragic past was brought up in conversation.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve learnt to deal with it. Angel was unique. For a while he was mine. At least I have that.”

The waiter’s appearance with their food provided a welcome interruption.

“So,” Faith said. “How’s Spike? Still setting your sheets on fire?”

After her first night spent with Spike in London, Buffy’s work commitments had required her immediate return to L.A. However, when, two months later, they’d met up in New York, they’d run into Faith at the restaurant where they were having dinner. The two friends had caught up the following day and Faith had wanted to know everything about the incredibly sexy new man in Buffy’s life.

“Oh yeah,” Buffy said. “The sex is incredible.”

“Hell, I don’t blame you, B. I’d be getting bouncy with a guy if he looked like William Giles!”

“Faith! You’re an engaged woman!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m blind,” Faith countered. “So the ‘L’ word hasn’t come up yet?”

Buffy’s smile faded. “I’ve already told you, love’s not an option. For either of us. What Spike and I have is a good friendship and good sex.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean you’ve been seeing the guy for almost a year now. Exclusively. It’s pretty radical for something that’s supposed to be casual to have lasted this long.”

“I like him and I respect him,” Buffy argued. “And the sex is always amazing. But I can’t love him – you know that.”

“B, you’re my best friend so it’s my job to worry about you. It’s been five years since Angel’s death, and if you have a chance to be happy with Spike, then you should take it.”

The waiter brought coffee.

“Faith, I love you for trying to help, but I’m happy with what Spike and I have. It’s the perfect arrangement for both of us. We enjoy what we have without worrying about the other person wanting what neither of us is able to give.”

“Okay, I respect that. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Love has a way of creeping up on you when you least expect it. Look at me and Robin.”

Buffy took a sip of her cappuccino. “I’m so glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy. It reminds me of how much I miss Angel.”

“I get that,” Faith replied. “But at the end of the day, Angel’s not coming back. Reality is Spike, the kind of guy that a girl would kill to be with. Just don’t ignore what’s right in front of you.”

“I appreciate the advice, Faith, but I’m happy with things the way they are.”

“Five by five?”

Smiling at her long time friend, Buffy cast a customary glance over the check, before handing the waiter her credit card. After paying, she stood up and pulled on her jacket.

“It’s been great to catch up,” Faith said as they emerged onto the sidewalk. “We’ll have to get together again before I leave.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed as they hugged each other. “I’ll call you.”

“Take care, B.”

“Always,” Buffy said with a smile, before turning and heading back towards the gallery.

The next few hours flew by for Buffy, who spent most of her afternoon surfing the web and cataloguing information into the gallery database. Spike called her to let her know that dinner was scheduled for seven o’clock at ‘Chez Julien’, a thriving new French restaurant which had received glowing reviews from various food critics. Realising she needed to pick up some milk and a few other essential items, she called in at the local convenience store on her way home and consequently it was nearly six by the time she arrived back at the apartment.

Walking through the front door, she heard the shower running and her panties immediately dampened at the thought of Spike in there all naked and wet. She briefly toyed with the idea of joining him for a repeat of the previous night, but knowing they’d probably end up being late for dinner, she headed for the kitchen instead to put away the groceries.

She was standing in front of the open refrigerator with a can of whipped cream in her hand when Spike came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “So what d’you buy?”

“Food,” Buffy replied, trying to ignore the fact that he was only wearing a towel, which was secured rather precariously around his hips.

“I was talking about something to wear tonight,” he said, relieving her of the whipped cream. “But I reckon we could have some fun with this.”

She turned to see him shaking the can, his eyebrow raised. “Don’t tempt me,” she said with a smile, before moving past him in the direction of her bedroom.

Twenty five minutes later, she had showered and donned underwear, secured her hair into a chignon and added make up and gold jewellery. The dress she had bought was a black Gucci silk halter and she slipped it on with a pair of black strappy Manolos. Selecting a matching Fendi clutch purse, she walked out into the hall, where Spike was waiting, talking on his cell phone.

He looked up when she came into view and his eyes blazed with lust. “I’ll call you back,” he muttered to the caller and severed the connection. His gaze drifting over her, he grinned. “Well, don’t you look good enough to eat?”

Buffy grinned back as she opened the front door. “Promises, promises.”

Spike smirked before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I always keep my promises, luv.”


They arrived at the restaurant at five minutes to seven, where they were greeted and shown to a table occupied by two men.

Spike shook their hands before gesturing to her. “Gentlemen, this is a friend of mine, Buffy O’Connor.”

Buffy shook hands with them as they each introduced themselves and then settled into one of the plush armchair-style seats. When the waiter came round, Spike selected a vintage Burgundy from the wine list and after perusing the menu, they opted for the lobster flambé salad entré, grilled filet mignon with béarnaise sauce for the main course and a French vanilla soufflé for dessert.

The cuisine was delectable and the wine a superb accompaniment. Most of the conversation was business dominated and from what Buffy could glean, the two men designed software and Spike was considering investing in their company.

“Mr. Giles, you’ve seen our research for the Global 360 product and I’m sure you can agree that it will prove highly lucrative for all involved.”

“I don’t doubt that, gentlemen,” Spike answered. “But you’re asking for an investment of several million dollars, so you must understand that I’m a little hesitant.”

Buffy watched the exchange with interest, watching Spike in action. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with in the business arena and his economic acumen never failed to impress her. He hadn’t gotten where he was today by being blind to the risks and making rash decisions. The fact was that these men needed him otherwise they wouldn’t have approached him, so he could afford to make them wait.

It was like she’d told Faith, she respected him. She might not be in love with him, but she liked him and they had a good rapport outside the bedroom – and a hell of a rapport in it.

She had often wondered how long their arrangement would last – it had been almost a year since they first met and they still wanted each other as much as they ever had. And as long as they were both still happy with the terms of their agreement, why shouldn’t they continue to be ‘friends with benefits’, as Faith called it?

Dinner was drawing to a close and Spike was settling the check. All four of them stood up and Spike shook hands with both men.

“You will have my answer by tomorrow morning, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, Mr. Giles,” one of them said.

Buffy shook hands with the pair and then with Spike’s hand resting in the small of her back, they walked out into the restaurant lobby and then onto the street outside, where Spike’s limousine was waiting.

They soon arrived back at Buffy’s apartment and took the elevator up to her floor. Spike embraced her from behind as she tried to unlock the door, his hands on her hips, his mouth wrecking havoc on her neck and his cock pressing into the cleft of her ass.

“That dress has been driving me crazy all night,” he whispered, his mouth moving up to nibble on her earlobe.

When she finally got the door open and they were inside the apartment, she turned in Spike’s arms to kiss him and they devoured each other, their tongues duelling for supremacy. Spike kicked the door shut and pushed her up against the wall. Then without warning he dropped to his knees.

He grinned when she looked down at him, her eyes brimming with desire. “I told you, pet. I always keep my promises.”

With one hand, he pushed the material of her dress up so it gathered at her waist. Pushing her lace panties aside, he ran one thumb down over her wet pussy, briefly dipping inside her and then coming back up to massage her aching clit with the moist digit. Her hips bucked at the contact and he glanced up to see her head tipped back and her eyes closed as currents of pleasure raced through her.

“Spike, please…” Buffy implored, until he finally fulfilled her desire and replaced his hand with his mouth.

At the very first stroke of his tongue on her sensitized flesh, her whole body jerked and she felt as though a thousand volts of electricity had been poured through her. He continued to tease her, his tongue leisurely lapping up her juices, before pushing inside her.

Buffy moaned as he fucked her with his tongue and thrust her hands into his hair holding him in place. She could feel her orgasm fast approaching and if he kept moving his tongue like that it would be all over in seconds. As she teetered on the edge of oblivion, he latched onto her clit, sucking it into his mouth and alternatively torturing her with his tongue and the scrape of his teeth. And when he softly bit her, her climax hit with all the force of a guided missile.

She had barely come down from the pinnacle of ecstasy when he stood up, unzipped his fly and thrust himself inside her. She came again, her pussy spasming around his cock and it took only a couple of powerful thrusts for him to join her, his body shuddering.

Completely sapped of energy, they collapsed on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

“Mmm,” Buffy murmured. “You weren’t kidding about keeping your promise…”


Hours later, Spike woke up alone. The clock on the nightstand told him it was three a.m. and he could hear faint noises coming from beyond the bedroom door. Getting out of bed, he pulled on a pair of jeans and headed through to the lounge, where he found Buffy curled up under a blanket watching ‘Dirty Dancing’.

“Hey, luv,” he said as he sat down beside her on the sofa. “Whatcha doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answered as she lifted her feet and set them down on Spike’s lap. “Thought I’d watch a movie.”

“Dirty Dancing?” he enquired with a frown.

“It’s my favourite film.”

He muttered something under his breath.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I said it’s a ‘chick flick’.”

Buffy pretended to be insulted. “You’re just jealous.”

Spike scoffed. “Jealous?”

“Of Patrick Swayze. Cause he’s so hot.”

“Patrick’s got nothing on me, pet.”

“I don’t know,” Buffy said with a grin. “He’s got some moves.”

“So have I,” Spike responded, his voice full of conviction. “But mine are better.”

Buffy smiled. He wasn’t bragging. She may have grown up with a huge teenage crush on Patrick Swayze but she’d take Spike over him any day.

“So if you hate this movie so much, why are you sitting here watching it with me?” Buffy asked.

“Well, now that I’m awake, I need something to send me back to sleep,” Spike told her, faking a yawn. “Reckon this oughta do it.”

“You know what? I think subconsciously you like this film just as much as I do.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Their playful banter continued throughout the film and by the time the credits rolled, they had both fallen asleep. Buffy was still lying across the sofa, her feet on Spike’s lap, but Spike had slid sideways so that he was half lying beside Buffy, her hand atop his arm which rested possessively across her midriff.

And in their state of slumber, neither of them were aware that to the unknowing eye, they looked awfully like a couple.

Spike leaned back in his seat as his company’s private jet took to the skies. He was heading back to London, back to his Eaton Square apartment and his office in the City.

While technically his trip to L.A. had been for business purposes, he’d also enjoyed having an opportunity to relax. He loved seeing Buffy and while as usual the sex was amazing, he’d also enjoyed the time they’d spent outside the bedroom. Yesterday they’d driven up to Santa Barbara, where they’d visited several art galleries, walked along the beach and had dinner at a quiet, Italian bistro on the harbour.

He knew their arrangement worked so well and would continue to do so, because they were friends as well as lovers and could spend time together without getting bored with each other’s company. Buffy was exactly the type of girl he’d once seen himself settling down with. A girl whom he could have fun with and enjoy spending time with and who could turn him on with just a smile.

Unfortunately, he was no longer that naïve and idealistic young man who believed in living happily ever after. Love was for fools – it blinded people to the truth, making them weak so that in the end, they no longer cared if they lived or died.

Memories of Ethan flooded his mind and he blinked back tears as the pain gripped him. The pain of losing his best friend and the pain of knowing that he was the one to blame.

They’d grown up together, their houses only a quarter mile apart. Typical young boys, they’d spent their time fishing, climbing trees and getting muddy and were completely inseparable. Everyone who’d known them had known that where there’d been one, the other hadn’t been far behind.

It had been a dare by Ethan that had lead Spike to bleach his hair for the first time when he was at college and it had been Ethan who had first called him ‘Spike’, because no matter how much gel he’d used he’d never been able to tame his spiky locks. They’d attended university together, studying business economics and when Spike had taken over Giles Enterprises, he’d appointed Ethan as his vice-president.

Six months later, Ethan had met Drusilla Evans at a party and had fallen head over heels in love with her, asking her to marry him after a mere three weeks. But then he’d made the mistake of introducing her to his best friend. The moment Spike had seen Drusilla, he’d been overwhelmed with lust – at the time he’d thought it was love, although it had been the first time he’d ever really felt anything like it, so who could blame him for misinterpreting his feelings?

But Ethan had been like a brother to him and Drusilla had practically been his wife, so it shouldn’t have mattered what Spike had felt for her. He could never do anything to hurt his best friend like that.

So he’d done his damnedest to suppress his desires, including standing up beside Ethan as his best man at their wedding.

But every time he’d seen her, his denied feelings had seemed to increase tenfold and in the end he’d had to stay away, for risk of doing something he’d regret. When Ethan had invited him over to play poker or Drusilla had been having one of her dinner parties, Spike had made his excuses.

Then he’d made the mistake of going to their New Year’s Eve party, where Drusilla had cornered him and told him in that haunting voice she had that she knew how he really felt about her and that she loved him too.

The immediate thrill of learning that his feelings were reciprocated had been swiftly eclipsed by his horror that for a brief moment he’d considered betraying his best friend. So he’d told her as gently as he could that nothing could happen between them, because she was Ethan’s wife. Several times after that night, she’d reaffirmed her feelings and attempted to entice him, but he’d remained strong, his loyalty to Ethan still more important than the fulfilment of his fantasy that Drusilla offered.

Then a couple of months later, his father had suffered a heart attack and Spike had spent the next three days at his bedside until he was off the critical list. When he’d finally arrived home, Drusilla had been waiting for him, to tell him that she and Ethan were over; that she’d told him she was in love with someone else. Taking advantage of his vulnerability, she’d kissed him right there on his doorstep and he’d barely had a chance to react before he’d heard Ethan’s voice.

“You bastard!”

Pushing Drusilla aside, he’d punched Spike, before getting back in his car and speeding off down the street. With blood trickling from a split lip, Spike had tried to follow him, but he’d already driven out of sight. Telling a sobbing Drusilla to go home, in case Ethan returned to their house, he’d got into his own car and headed to the office, in hopes that his friend might have gone there. And he’d been pulling into his allocated parking space when Drusilla had rung with the news that Ethan that had lost control of his Mercedes and driven over an embankment.

He’d been killed instantly.

His best friend had died, because he’d been too weak to push Drusilla away. It didn’t matter that he’d refused her all those times before – all his loyalty hadn’t been worth a damn. When it had really mattered, he’d been too weak to say no. And worst of all, Ethan had died before he’d been able to set things right and he’d never know how sorry Spike was.

After that night Spike had spent two weeks holed up in his apartment with only his good pal Jack Daniels and his smokes for company. Drusilla had tried to see him, but he’d refused to even let her in. He’d seen his ‘love’ for what it really was – mere infatuation, which had faded quickly in the wake of his loss, to be replaced by interminable guilt and self-recrimination.

He had later found out that he had not been the only other man in his best friend’s marriage. Drusilla had been sleeping around long before she’d pounced on him. But her numerous dalliances hadn’t convinced Spike that he was any less to blame for Ethan’s death.

And it was, for the most part, his unrelenting guilt that had led to his avoidance of emotional relationships. He didn’t deserve to experience love or happiness, not the kind that Ethan in his naivety had once known. And not only that, but Spike didn’t know if he was even capable of love anymore. The day that Ethan had died, something inside Spike had died with him.

Before he’d met Buffy, his ‘relationships’ had all been of the casual variety. Some of the women had lasted a few nights, some even a week or two. But anything beyond that and Spike knew they’d get the wrong idea about what he was offering.

But Buffy was different and not just because they were both on the same page when it came to their relationship. She was an incredible woman and he knew most men wouldn’t have any trouble falling in love with her – himself included, if he’d met her before the tragic events three years earlier. And even if it were possible for his damaged heart to give it, Buffy didn’t want his love.

No, Spike thought to himself, as he fell into an exhausted sleep. Falling in love with Buffy O’Connor is not an option.

Three months later…

It was eleven am and after being rushed off her feet all morning, Buffy still had a to-do list a mile long. At around one, Spike would be arriving to pick her up for the airport. As much as she didn’t want to leave the gallery, what with Tara’s exhibition only a few weeks away, it would be nice to take some time out of her busy schedule. And where better to kick back and relax than in the Dominican Republic, where the Giles’ family owned a villa.

She hadn’t seen or heard from Spike in about three months, although that wasn’t unusual for them. The frequency of his visits to L.A. and hers to London would always depend on circumstances – their time together was squeezed in around life not vice versa. She had read in the financial journals that Giles Enterprises had been involved in a multi-million dollar acquisition, which meant that Spike had probably been spending every waking hour at the office.

And now that it was over, he’d decided to take a much needed and well deserved break and a few days earlier, he’d called to invite Buffy to spend a week with him at his family’s Caribbean estate.

A couple of hours later, Buffy and Spike were sat in the back of a limousine speeding towards Van Nuys. The car drove directly onto the airfield where Spike’s plane was waiting and as they boarded, their luggage was loaded into the cargo hold.

A seven hour journey awaited them, which meant their arrival at the airport in Puerto Plata would be in the early hours of the morning, given the time difference. But the plane was designed for luxury with a small cabin at the back complete with a shower room.

They quickly settled into the soft leather seats and a woman who introduced herself as Vi brought them drinks – white wine for Buffy and bourbon for Spike – and then made herself scarce.

The flight was pretty uneventful. They spent some time catching up, talking about what had gone on in their lives over the last three months and watched a film on the built-in entertainment system. When Buffy teased him about watching another ‘chick flick’, he chose a ‘masculine’ action film full of guns and explosions.

Later Vi served them a light meal and afterwards, Buffy retired to the sleeping quarters for the final hour of the flight. When the plane began to circle the airport in Puerto Plata, one of the country’s northern provinces, she was still dead to the world.

“Buffy, pet,” Spike whispered softly, gently stroking her back to rouse her from slumber.

Slowly, she stirred and then opened her eyes. “Are we there?”

“We’re about to land, luv. We need to take our seats.”

Sitting up, Buffy stretched and yawned, before following Spike out into the main cabin where they returned to their seats and Spike used the intercom to give the pilot the okay to begin the landing sequence.

Once they were safely on the ground and the aircraft had come to a stop, they released their safety belts and stood up. Picking up her purse, Buffy allowed Spike to put his arm around her and lead her down the steps and onto the tarmac.

A Hispanic man immediately approached them, a smile on his face. “Señor William, it is good to have you here with us again.” He shook Spike’s hand and turned to Buffy. “And you must be Señorita Buffy.”

“Pet, this is Eduardo. He and his wife Maria look after the estate.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Buffy said, smiling at the older man.

Eduardo led them to a four wheel drive and after loading their luggage into the trunk, he slid behind the wheel. Still with Spike’s arm around her, a heavy-eyed Buffy curled herself into his embrace as they drove towards the estate.

About an hour and a half later, they arrived at ‘Villa del Sol de Oro’ and from what Buffy could see, the estate was made up of the main house and a number of cottages. A woman was waiting for them when they walked through the front door, who Buffy quickly realised must be Eduardo’s wife, Maria.

“William, mi chico,” she cried, coming to meet them.

Spike quickly enveloped her in a hug. It was clear that he was close to both Maria and Eduardo.

“Maria, this is Buffy O’Connor,” he said, turning to look at her.

“Ah, mucho gusto, Buffy,” Maria said, smiling and then to Buffy’s surprise, she was pulled into the other woman’s arms. After releasing her, she directed a torrent of Spanish at Spike, who replied in the same language.

Buffy was always amazed to hear Spike speaking another language, particularly as she’d only ever managed to master her native tongue. She knew he’d travelled extensively both when he was growing up and for business and his linguistic talents were obviously an advantage to him in dealing with international clientele.

After declining Maria’s offer of food, Spike lead Buffy away from the main house and down a path lit by garden torches to a two-storey cottage, where he told her he’d always stayed during the summers he’d spent at the estate when he was younger. While his parents had their suite in the main house, Spike had occupied the first floor of the cottage and the ground floor had been the abode of his cousin, Wesley, whenever he too came to stay.

“I have to make a quick phone call,” Spike said when they reached the bedroom, as he set their luggage down. “So just make yourself at home.”

Having sat down on the edge of the four poster bed, Buffy just smiled in response as he turned and left the room.

True to his word, the call was quick – just to check-in with Wesley, who had taken over the role of vice-president after Ethan’s death – and when he returned to the bedroom, he couldn’t help but smile.

Buffy was fast sleep, curled up on the right side of the bed – the side she always slept on – still wearing her clothes. She shifted her position when he came to sit beside her, but didn’t stir as he unbuttoned her shirt and pulled off her jeans.

His eyes darkened when he saw the virginal white scraps of lace she was wearing underneath her clothes and his cock hardened in his pants. While he’d been caught up with work, it had barely crossed his mind, but now that he was with Buffy again, his body was pleading with him to end his three month stint of celibacy.

Unfortunately it would have to wait, he thought, as he divested her of her undergarments and pulled the sheets up over her sleeping form. She looked more relaxed in sleep, he reflected, as he pulled off his own clothes and slipped in beside her and he suspected that her work at the gallery took more out of her than she let on – she had more than likely been working just as hard as he had over the past three months. And after a good night’s sleep, they would both be refreshed enough to really enjoy their reunion.


The next morning, the light streaming through the window roused Buffy from her sleep. She opened her eyes, which immediately collided with Spike’s crystalline blue gaze.

“Hmm,” she sighed. “The sun is shining.”

“Observational this morning, aren’t you, pet?”

Buffy laughed softly. “Oh, very much so. See, I’ve already observed that I appear to be naked under these sheets – you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh Buffy,” Spike said, chuckling at her facetiousness. “I’ve missed you.”

“How much?” she asked.

“So much, on occasion I got bloody friendly with my right hand.”

She smiled. “That makes two of us.”

Spike’s eyes darkened as his mind conjured an image of Buffy lying in the middle of her bed, her eyes closed and her hips arching off the bed as she touched herself.

He groaned. “Show me.”

With a grin, she drew back the sheets to expose her breasts and brought her hand up to touch one, twisting her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She kept her eyes open and focused on his, as she slid her other hand over her flat stomach to the apex of her thighs. Spreading her legs, she moaned as she trailed her fingers over her soaking wet pussy and then brought them up to her clit, rubbing it gently at first and then harder.

Spike watched as her eyes closed involuntarily and her eyelids fluttered as if she was having the most wonderful dream. The idea of staying right where he was and watching as she brought herself to orgasm was appealing, but he wanted to be inside her.

Pulling her into his arms, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss grew more passionate, their pent-up need of the last few months urging them along to the very necessary consummation, as Buffy pushed him onto his back and straddled him. He loved it when she took control like that – she could be a little wildcat beneath the surface.

Holding his hard cock by the base, she sunk down onto him, both of them moaning at the sensation. Sitting up, she began rocking her hips, moving up and down so that the tip of him rubbed against the super-sensitive bundle of nerves inside her. Spike watched her as she threw her head back, totally focused on her own pleasure, her small breasts bouncing.

She squeezed her inner muscles, milking him and speeding him towards his own climax and just as he felt his balls tighten, Buffy shuddered and came, crying his name. As she shook with orgasm, he sat up and winding a hand in her hair, he kissed her as he too came, his hips jerking.


Half an hour later, the pair had showered and dressed and were heading to the main house in search of something to eat. Walking through to the kitchen, they saw a young dark-haired woman standing in front of the sink, washing her hands.

Thinking it was one of a number of staff whom Maria and Eduardo had hired to help them look after the estate, Spike cleared his throat. “Perdone...”

The woman turned. “Will!” she cried, her mouth breaking into a smile.

“Cordy?”

“What are you doing here?” Spike asked, as he pulled Cordelia into his arms, hugging her.

“Well,” she said. “I had some vacation time to use up so I thought I would come and visit Mama and Papa. I had no idea you were coming to stay.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a few crazy months at work and I just felt like taking a break and getting away from it all.”

He turned towards Buffy, his arm still around Cordy. “Cordy, this is Buffy, a good friend of mine. Buffy, this is Cordy or Cordelia, Maria and Eduardo’s daughter. We’ve known each other almost all our lives – me, Cordy and Wes were like the Three Musketeers during the summers we spent here.”

Buffy shook the hand that Cordy was offering, but there was a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched the comfortable way that Spike and Cordy were with each other. She had to admit she felt a little jealous, although she really had no right to feel envious over whatever relationship Spike had or might have previously had with Cordy. They might have an arrangement, but that didn’t mean that she had any claim over him.

“So what have you been up to?” Spike asked. “I mean I don’t think I’ve seen you since the summer before I started university.”

“Well, I got a scholarship to go to FIU in Miami and then from there onto law school at Harvard. And for the last two years I have been working in Los Angeles for Wolfram & Hart.”

Buffy froze. “Wolfram & Hart?”

“Sí, they are one of the most renowned law firms in Los Angeles.”

“I know – my husband used to work for them.”

“Really?” Cordy asked. “What is his name? I might remember him.”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t think so. He died five years ago.”

Cordy’s eyes widened. “Mi Dios! I am so sorry. I should not have said anything.”

“It’s okay,” Buffy said with a weak smile. “You didn’t know.”

Spike turned to her, his eyes searching. “Are you ok, luv?”

Buffy smiled, reassuring him that she was fine. She just hadn’t been prepared for the sudden mention of Angel’s former employers. It might seem irrational, but she’d always felt as though Wolfram & Hart were partly to blame for his accident. If they hadn’t dangled the promise of a partnership in front of him like a bone in front of a dog and made him work so hard for it, maybe he wouldn’t have needed to de-stress by going out on the Jet Ski.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Even so, Spike moved closer and took her hand, squeezing it, reminding her that as her friend as well as her lover, he was there for her, no matter what.

He turned back to Cordy. “Buffy and I were just about to make some breakfast. Would you like to join us?”

“I would love to, but I have already eaten. Besides, I promised Mama I would drive into Cabrera to pick up some things for her.”

“Okay, well, I guess we’ll see you later then.”

“Sí, claro,” she said with a smile. “It was nice meeting you, Buffy. And it is great seeing you again, Will. Hasta luego.”

“She seems nice,” Buffy said when Cordy had left.

Spike grinned. “She is.”

“Sounds like you were close when you were younger.”

“Well, Cordy lived here all year round – Maria and Eduardo have always lived on the estate; it’s the least we could do for them considering the amount of work they put into looking after this place. And when we came here during the summer, me and Wes enjoyed having someone else to play with.”

“The Three Musketeers.”

“Yeah. Although Cordy was a little monster at times. She always tried to get us to do things we weren’t allowed to do, then we’d get caught and me and Wes would always end up taking the fall, because Cordy just used to put on her best angel face and look totally innocent. She should have been an actress not a lawyer…although that girl could argue her way out of anything.”

“So were the two of you ever more than friends?” The words were out of Buffy’s mouth before she could stop them.

Spike arched his eyebrow, a smirk on his face. “You mean was she my girlfriend? No. As I remember, Wes was the one with the crush on her. I think something might have even happened between them the summer before I went to university.”

Buffy’s cheeks were pink. “I don’t even know why I asked that.”

“You know, pet, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Buffy glowered. “Don’t be stupid. You’re not that cute.”

“I’m only teasing, luv,” Spike said with a grin, before pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly. When he finally let her go, Buffy felt a little weak at the knees.

For breakfast, they sat outside on the verandah and ate freshly baked churros which Maria had obviously made that morning and drank coffee. Afterwards, they went back to the cottage to get their bathing suits and then spent the day in and around the pool. They had an early dinner of shrimp paella with green salad and chilled sangria to drink, after which Buffy called Willow to check on the gallery.

When she’d finished the call, she found Spike in the bathroom busy filling the Jacuzzi tub with water and vanilla scented bubble bath. Candles littered every surface, lending a warm glow to the room.

As he finished his task and turned off the faucet, he caught sight of her watching him from the doorway and grinned. “How about you get out of those clothes, pet?”

Keeping her eyes locked on his, Buffy reached up and tugged at the string holding her halter top in place, before pulling the item over her head and dropping it on the floor, her nipples already hard. Slowly, she undid the buttons of her denim shorts, pushed them down and kicked them off, her underwear going the same way.

She stood there naked for a few moments, allowing him to drink his fill, before moving closer to him and tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Pulling it off, she let it join her clothes and her hand ran lightly over his rock hard abs, causing him to suck in a breath, before she undid the fly of his shorts and pulled them down.

When he too was naked, Spike took her hand and stepped into the tub and then let her settle between his legs.

He kissed a path over her shoulder to nibble at her neck and Buffy sighed, leaning her head back against his shoulder. They sat amidst the bubbles for several minutes, luxuriating in the feel of the water swirling around them.

Then Spike picked up the loofah and began to wash her, first her back and arms and then her shoulders and neck. She lifted each leg out of the water to assist him, although he didn’t venture near any part of her that craved his attention.

Finally he reached her breasts and rubbed the sponge over them, making her quiver when the backs of his fingers brushed against her nipples on his downward journey. Reaching the juncture of his thighs, he continued his mission, but didn’t make any move to touch her intimately.

Then he placed the loofah in her hand and whispered in her ear, “My turn.”

Oh it was his turn, all right. His turn to be tortured. She turned and knelt between his legs to wash his muscular torso – her movements slower even than his – and she hid a smile when she heard his breathing hitch. She washed the rest of him in the same slow manner and when she finally reached his cock, she wasn’t surprised to find it as hard as a rock.

She knew she couldn’t keep torturing him, especially when her actions were making her as wet as he was hard, without the help of the bath water. Before he could say anything, she seated herself in his lap, his cock sliding into her slick pussy with ease. Gasping, he grabbed her hips and together they brought each other to a swift orgasm, coming simultaneously.

After allowing a few moments for them both to catch their breath, Spike got out of the tub with Buffy still in his arms. Setting her down, they towelled each other dry and then retired to the bedroom, where they took pleasure in each others’ bodies all night long.

Buffy was woken the next day by Spike who told her that Cordy was going windsurfing in Cabarete and had asked them to join her.

She was content to go along with whatever Spike wanted them to do, but as she showered, she began to feel a little uneasy. She’d never had any particular interest in water sports, but even so, since Angel’s accident, she’d steered well clear. Her fears weren’t irrational, although, she did worry whether she was edging towards paranoia. There was no reason to believe that anything bad would happen to her, or to Spike for that matter – she smiled at the memory of his enthusiasm in sharing his plans with her, knowing that just like everything else he did, he would probably make windsurfing seem effortless.

So after finishing her shower, she grabbed her bathing suit and met Spike and Cordy up at the main house. They all climbed into Eduardo’s jeep and began the hour long drive to Cabarete. During the journey, Cordy and Spike regaled Buffy with tales of their childhood summers.

“Buffy, watch out that he does not challenge you to a game of poker,” Cordy warned her. “I ended up losing two weeks’ allowance and a couple of Barbie dolls to him.”

Buffy giggled. “Dare I ask what he did with them?”

“He hammered nails into their heads – he said they were an annoying commercial creation and they deserved to be run through with railroad spikes. I cried for days afterwards.”

Buffy gave Spike her best glare. “You meanie…”

“Pet, I was ten…”

Cordy threw him her own look of mock severity. “That is no excuse, Will. It was my Ballerina Barbie.”

Spike held up his hands. “Okay, I give in. I was a wanker.”

Cordy and Buffy laughed. He obviously wasn’t accustomed to having two women ganging up on him.

When they arrived in Cabarete Bay, they headed straight down to the surf centre and Buffy waited outside while Cordy and Spike went to get the boards. She stood on the sand, watching people glide through the waves and her eyes were drawn to one of surfers who was riding the crest of a wave higher than himself. The wave crashed over him, causing him to fall off his board and disappear beneath the water.

Fear gripped her when he didn’t resurface immediately and tears ran down her face as flashbacks of Angel’s death suddenly engulfed her. As the tears fell faster, her breathing quickened and she sank to her knees, her arms cradling herself as she rocked back and forth.

Even in the state she was in, she was aware of someone kneeling down beside her and a pair of warm arms embracing her.

“Pet, shh, shh. Buffy, it’s me, it’s Spike. It’s okay, luv, I’m here.”

Gradually, her breathing began to slow and her sobs turned to whimpers. She lifted up her head and her watery green eyes met his. “Is he…okay?” she asked.

Spike frowned. “Who?”

“The…surfer. He fell…off…his board. I thought…he was dead.”

She chanced a look back at the ocean and quickly spotted the man, back on his board and surfing closer to shore. “There he is,” she said with a sigh of relief. “He’s okay.”

“Yes, luv. He’s okay.”

Buffy burst into tears again.

“Pet, what’s wrong?”

“Why wasn’t he okay?” she sobbed. “Why did he have to leave me?”

“Who?” Spike asked, although he had a fair idea whom she was talking about. “Angel?”

“He left me, Spike. He left me and now I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone, pet,” he whispered, holding her close. “You’ve got me.”

“You won’t leave me, will you Spike?” Buffy asked, clutching at his t-shirt. “Promise me you won’t leave me.”

“I promise, luv. I won’t ever leave you.”

When Cordy appeared a few moments later, Spike told her that he wanted to take Buffy back to the estate. They stood a couple of yards away, but Buffy could hear snippets of their conversation and she knew he was telling her about what had happened to Angel. Cordy told him to take the jeep and that she’d catch a ride with one of the guys at the centre.

Buffy didn’t say a word the whole journey back; she just stared out the window. When they reached the estate, Spike led her back to their cottage and encouraged her to lie down for a while. He went to fetch a glass of water for her and when he returned, she was curled up in a ball, sobbing quietly. He sat down on the bed next to her and rubbed her back, softly whispering words of comfort until she fell asleep.


When Buffy awoke, Spike wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so she walked over to the main house where she found him watching CNN on the satellite television.

He looked up when she entered and smiled. “Hey, luv. You feeling better?”

Buffy returned his smile. “Yeah, the rest did me good. And, uh, thanks for being there. I’m sorry I fell apart like that…”

The words were hardly out of her mouth, before Spike was up and standing next to her, his hands gently gripping her upper arms and his eyes locked with hers. “Buffy, don’t ever be sorry about something like that. You’ve dealt with more pain than anyone should ever have to deal with – you have every right to fall apart. You don’t always have to be so strong you know.”

Buffy gave him a small smile “I know,” she said, reaching up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her for several seconds.

“So,” she said when he released her. “Did you have any plans for this evening?”

“Well, I did think about taking you to Las Terrenas for dinner and dancing, but if you don’t feel up to it, we can stay here and I’ll cook.”

“No, Las Terrenas sounds great – I’ll just go and jump in the shower and get ready.”

Twenty minutes later, Buffy was putting the finishing touches to her make up. She was wearing a floral print Chloé maxi dress and black Marc Jacobs wedges and her hair fell in curls around her shoulders. Spike was wearing all black again, which was a great foil for his bleached hair.

They drove to Las Terrenas in the jeep; the journey was just under an hour and they soon found themselves seated at a table for two in an outdoor restaurant. After ordering a jug of sangria to drink while they perused the menu, they eventually decided on avocado salad with sweet potato fritters, fresh snapper in coconut sauce and guava and rum cake for dessert.

The food was delicious and during the meal they were serenaded by a female soloist, but as the night wore on, the restaurant switched to more upbeat music and after they’d finished eating, Buffy and Spike got up to dance.

The tempo was slow and throbbing and Spike pulled her against him, subtly sliding his leg between hers, while Buffy moved with the beat, her body grinding into his. His cock grew hard in his pants and he turned her around so that her back was flush against his chest and he pressed his erection into the cleft of her ass. One hand grasped hers while the other rested on her flat stomach and his mouth descended to nibble at her earlobe, before letting his tongue trace the shell of her ear.

Buffy leaned into him and hooked her arm around his neck to hold him to her, her fingers playing with the loose curls at the nape. The movement of her hips gathered speed as she felt him growing even harder against her.

“Slow down, luv…” he whispered in her ear.

“Mmm,” Buffy murmured, totally lost in the rhythm.

“Pet, if you don’t slow down, you’re gonna make me come in my pants.”

Opening her eyes, Buffy turned in his arms and kissed him, her tongue moving in ways that should be illegal, until Spike could no longer take it. He pulled his mouth from hers and met her eyes which were filled with a matching desire.

“Let’s get out of here…”

“Dama bonita! Dama bonita!”

The horde of children came running up to Buffy as she and Spike wandered through the marketplace in Cabrera.

“Dama bonita! Cabellos de oro!”

Buffy looked at Spike for help and he laughed. “They’re calling you ‘dama bonita’ which means ‘pretty lady’. And they’re saying you have hair like gold.”

“Buenas dias, niños,” Buffy said, bending down to their height and using the few words of Spanish she could remember from high school. “Mucho gusto!”

Spike smiled at the picture. One day Buffy would make a great mother. If she could ever move past the pain of losing her husband and fall in love again, Spike could see her having a large family.

In his mind, he saw an image of Buffy with another man – it produced a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach and part of him hoped it never happened. He liked things the way they were and if Buffy ever fell in love with someone else, it would be the end of their arrangement.

Just then, one of the children looked up at him and giggled before uttering something that made Spike frown.

Buffy looked up at him. “Did I just hear him say something about Billy Idol?”

Spike’s look darkened. “He said I looked like that tosser.”

“Spike!” Buffy admonished. “The children…”

“They can’t understand me. Anyway I don’t look nothing like Billy Idol.”

Buffy grinned mischievously. “Oh, I don’t know. You do look a little bit…”

“Buffy…” Spike warned.

“Well I guess you don’t wear rubber pants, although that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

Spike pulled her to him to whisper in her ear. “You got a bit of a rubber fetish, pet?”

“If I said yes, would you wear them?” Buffy asked, mischief still dancing in her eyes.

“Anything for you, luv.”

He wasn’t kidding. He often felt as though he would do anything for her – or at least anything to have her. His mind flashed back to the previous night, when unable to wait until they were back at the estate – especially after she’d started rubbing his hard cock through his pants – he’d pulled the jeep over into a ditch and taken her right there in the front seat. She’d been so hot and slippery wet that he wouldn’t have stopped for all the world – not even if a police car had come by and arrested them for public fornication. The prospect of not being inside her right then and there had been far worse than the prospect of spending the night in jail.

After browsing the market stalls for another hour, Buffy and Spike headed back to the estate where they ate lunch out on the veranda again and then Buffy stretched herself out on a sun lounger to work on her tan, while Spike chose to go for a swim. Bored with his own company, he tried to get her to join him, but she stayed put until he flicked his hand and sent a shower of water over her.

She sat up and glared at him. “Spike! You got me all wet!”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Not wet in a good way. I was trying to sunbathe.”

Spike pouted. “And I was bored.”

“Well, I’m not here to entertain you,” she muttered as she picked up a towel to dry herself off.

Spike climbed out of the pool and sauntered towards her. “Are you sure about that, pet?”

Buffy held her hands in defence. “Spike…” she warned.

He ignored her, picking her up and walking towards the edge of the pool.

“Spike!” she shrieked, struggling within his firm grip. But before she could say another word, he threw her into the pool.

When she resurfaced, spluttering, Spike was beside her, grinning.

“Now you can play with me.”

“Is that right?” Buffy asked, her glare disappearing as she moved closer.

Spike’s eyes burned with lust. “Uh huh.”

When she was close enough, she leaned up to kiss him, but let her mouth hover over his, not quite touching. “You have to catch me first.”

And with that, she struck out and swam away, with Spike in hot pursuit.


The rest of the afternoon was spent frolicking in the pool. Every time Spike caught up with her, Buffy managed to slip from his grasp and swim off again. Eventually, as afternoon gave way to evening, they climbed out of the water and towelled themselves off.

Unfortunately, they had failed to notice the black clouds rapidly gathering overhead, until they felt the first drops of rain. Moments later, a bolt of lightening sliced through the sky, followed by a low rumble of thunder and then the heavens opened, drenching them as they ran for shelter.

Inside the cottage, they showered together, the hot water warming them up, before they slipped into towelling robes. Deciding that it wouldn’t be a good idea to go to the main house and get food, Spike headed into the living room and to the bar which stood in the corner, knowing he could probably rustle up some snacks till the rain subsided.

When Buffy came to join him, she had a smile on her face.

“What’s up, luv?” he asked, busy rifling through the cupboards.

“Look what I found,” she said, holding up a pack of playing cards.

“And what do you suppose we do with those?”

She pretended to ponder his question. “Maybe we could play...poker.”

Spike grinned. “You not going to heed Cordy’s warning?”

“Well, I don’t have any Barbie dolls you can massacre.”

“What a shame,” he said. “We also don’t have any chips.”

There was a spark of mischief in her eyes. “There must be something we can gamble with…”

“Tell you what,” Spike suggested, standing up. “Whoever loses each hand...must do whatever the winner wants.”

“Deal,” Buffy said, playfully tugging on the belt of his robe.

She parked herself on the rug and Spike joined her, a couple of packets of peanuts in his hands.

“For energy,” he explained. “Cause you’re going to need it.”

Spike dealt the cards and the first game moved quickly until it was time to show their hands.

“Read ‘em and weep, luv,” Spike said, grinning. “Straight in spades.”

Buffy bit her lip. “Spike, you’re good…” she conceded. “But you’re just not good enough.” She placed her cards on the rug in front of her. “In your honour, a royal flush.”

“But…” Spike spluttered.

“Sorry, Spikey, I guess I forgot to mention that my cousin taught me how to play in junior high.”

Spike tackled her. “Why you little cheat…”

“Oh no, I won fair and square. And I intend to collect my winnings.”

Spike grinned. It didn’t matter that she’d won, because he’d be sharing the prize.

She ordered him to go down on her and more than eager to pay up, Spike stripped off her robe and without any preliminaries, thrust his tongue into her already dripping pussy, making her scream and buck her hips. He continued the torment, while his thumb moved to rub her clit, bringing her to orgasm in a matter of minutes.

Once Buffy had recovered from her mind-numbing climax, they resumed play with Spike winning the next hand and demanding that she give him a blowjob. Buffy was happy to oblige and took his cock in her mouth, tracing the veins with her tongue and sucking softly on the tip, before relaxing her throat muscles and taking him in so far that her lips reached the base. Moments later he came in her mouth, her name on his lips.

It took Spike a little longer to recover and as he lay there, breathing hard, Buffy sprinkled kisses over his hard muscular chest, until he was able to sit up and return to the game. The next hand was close with Buffy’s last card giving her a full house to beat Spike’s two pair.

“I want your cock in my ass.”

Spike’s eyes widened and he quickly grew hard again at the thought of being inside her like that. They’d never done it before – not because she’d discouraged it, but the opportunity had just never presented itself.

“Are you sure?”

In answer, she turned around and got up on all fours, raising her peach of an ass in the air. Then she reached down and began playing with her clit.

Spike swallowed. Hard. “Hold that thought,” he said, getting up and going into the bathroom, returning with a bottle of massage oil. Kneeling behind her, he opened the bottle and seconds later, rubbed a slick finger between her cheeks.

“Relax, pet…”

He slipped his finger up and into her. Buffy moaned.

“Got to work you up to it, luv. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He pushed it in further and groaned. She was so hot and so tight. He added another finger and she whimpered.

With his free hand, he lubed up his cock and then removed his fingers. Buffy felt him press against her opening and holding her by the hips, he pushed inside and she gasped, her hand leaving her clit to lend support.

“Fuck…” he whispered, as her heat and tightness surrounded him. When he pushed in a little further, she gave a sharp cry.

He paused mid-thrust. “Pet, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep going…”

“How’s it feel?”

“So good…” she moaned.

He thrust deeper and she began to move with him, passion building and before long she was bucking wildly. With one hand still on her hips, he reached up with the other to tug on her hair, sharpening the border between pain and pleasure.

Knowing he was seconds away from coming, he moved his hand round to her clit. But before he could touch her, her cries reached crescendo and she screamed out an orgasm simultaneous to his, both of them seeing stars.

Buffy awoke the next morning to find Spike standing by the bed, holding a tray. On it was a plate of tropical fruit, a freshly baked cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee, along with a bloom from one of the vividly colourful shrubs growing around the estate.

“Happy Birthday, luv,” he said, placing the tray on the table next to the bed and sitting down on the edge.

Buffy sat up smiling. “How did you know?”

“Willow told me when I came to pick you up at the gallery,” he confessed. “I think she was under the impression that I was whisking you away for your birthday.”

“Typical Willow – she’s an old romantic.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“To be honest, I’d kind of forgotten about it. I mean, I knew it was coming up, but over the years, I’ve just sort of stopped paying attention to it.”

“Well, you need to start celebrating them. Birthdays are important – next year it’ll be the big three oh.”

“Don’t remind me,” Buffy said with a grimace. “I’d rather not think about getting old.”

Spike pretended to look insulted. “Excuse me, thirty is not old. I happen to feel extremely young and virile for my age.”

Buffy grinned. “Don’t I know it?”

Spike’s eyes flashed with hunger as he recalled the night before. It…she had felt incredible. She was the first woman with whom he had engaged in that particular act and judging from the strangling heat surrounding his cock, he was willing to bet that it was also her first time. It was proof that she trusted him enough to let go of any inhibitions.

“Anyway,” he said as he picked up a piece of pineapple and held it up to her mouth. “Enough with the excuses about not wanting to celebrate your birthday – this year it’s going to be special and I am going to do whatever you want.”

“So you’re my willing slave then?” Buffy asked, grinning.

“At your service.”


After breakfast, which they ended up sharing, Buffy decided she wanted to visit the city of Puerto Plata.

“I’d really like to see the Amber Museum – I’ve heard a lot about it. And we could also do some shopping and have lunch there.”

On arrival in the capital city of the Puerto Plata province, they headed straight for Plaza Turisol, a shopping centre catering to a more up-market clientele. Buffy dragged Spike around the shops and to his credit he didn’t make a fuss, although he got his reward when they found a small boutique selling lingerie in all manner of styles, fabrics and colours, where he ended up spending an obscene amount of money.

“We could have a little fashion show when we get back,” he suggested, as they walked out of the shop and headed towards a little pavement café they’d passed earlier.

“You wouldn’t make it through the first thing I put on,” Buffy replied.

After lunch, they headed over to the Amber Museum to view the unique collection of semiprecious stones – one of the island’s exports – and Spike loved watching Buffy as she marvelled at everything she saw, finding beauty in even the ugliest piece.

To finish off the day, Buffy decided she wanted to ride the aerial tramway up the Pico Isabel de Torres mountain. On hearing her suggestion, Spike blanched a little, before grudgingly admitting to a fear of heights. Buffy pouted and played the ‘birthday’ card until he relented and although he held her hand in a vice grip for the entire ride, the smile on her face was enough to make it worthwhile for him.

As the afternoon turned to evening, they returned to the estate and went straight to the cottage. In the bedroom, Buffy dumped her shopping bags on the bed before moving closer to Spike and sliding her hands up his chest.

“So how about that fashion show you were talking about?”

“Now that’s extremely tempting, luv,” he said. “But I actually have something else planned for this evening. So why don’t you go put on something pretty and then come and meet me up at the main house.”

Curious as to what he had planned, Buffy showered and applied some of the scented body lotion she’d bought earlier and then slipped into a jade green Oscar de la Renta bandeau dress and metallic Jimmy Choo gladiator sandals. After tying back her hair, she added a little make up and a spritz of fragrance and then left the cottage following the little path up to the main house.

But before she reached her destination she saw Spike standing outside on the veranda waiting for her, looking hotter than ever in black trousers and a cream linen shirt. Walking up to join him, she gasped when she saw the candles adorning every available surface, the wooden decking covered in petals from blooms like the one he’d given her that morning, and a table laid for two.

“Oh Spike…”

“Happy Birthday, luv,” he said, smiling at the look of delight on her face.

“How did you…?” she asked, gesturing to everything in front of her.

He grinned as he led her to the table and pulled out her chair. “With a little help from Maria and Cordy.”

They sat down and Spike took the liberty of opening the bottle of Rioja sitting on the table and pouring them each a glass. Moments later, Maria emerged with their appetizer of stuffed mussels. It was delicious and whet their appetite for the main dish of chicken in citrus rum sauce and the flan de leche dessert.

After dessert, Spike reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a small box and slid it across the table.

“Spike?” Buffy enquired as she picked it up.

“Open it.”

She followed his request and gave a little gasp when she saw what was nestled in the velvet interior.

The amber pendant was beautiful and was exactly the one she’d been eyeing in the gift shop at the museum.

“I saw you looking at it and I couldn’t resist getting you a birthday present,” Spike offered by way of explanation as he helped her fasten it around her neck.

“Oh Spike, it’s beautiful, thank you.” She took his hand in hers. “And thank you for today – this has been the best birthday I’ve had in years.”

Spike smiled. “Perhaps I can make it even better.”

Quickly catching on, Buffy allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Oh, I’ve no doubt of that.”

They walked quickly back to the cottage, up the stairs and into the bedroom, their clothes melting away like snow on a hot chimney.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lying beneath me wearing nothing but my necklace,” Spike admitted as he laid her down on the bed with the pendant resting in the hollow between her breasts.

She pulled him on top of her, the two of them fitting together as though they were two halves of the same whole. Spike kissed her and slid his hands down to her breasts, softly rubbing her already hardening nipples. Buffy arched her back as he slid down her body to lick at one stiff nub before blowing across it causing it to harden further and making her gasp. He repeated the action with its twin before sliding down even further to part her thighs and stroke his tongue over her throbbing wet pussy.

His tongue was a master of evil, doing things that should be outlawed and making her fly over the edge as he thrust two fingers inside her. He didn’t even allow her to come down from her first orgasm and by curling his fingers up inside her to massage that elusive bundle of nerves, he had her coming a second time.

“Oh, Buffy, kitten, you’re amazing,” he whispered as he watched her explode again. “Amazing.”

Unable to wait any longer, he moved up her body and positioned himself, before sinking into her slowly, never once breaking eye contact. Her walls were still contracting and he gasped at the sensation.

This time, it was different. There was no frenzy, no frantic union – Spike’s thrusts were long and slow. They kissed; tender kisses, combined with tender hands sweeping over each other’s skin.

Lifting his head, Spike’s gaze locked with hers and he saw moisture in the eyes looking back at him.

“Buffy, pet, what is it…what’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. It’s just…sometimes its overwhelming what you do to me.”

“Oh, luv, I know what you mean. Just one look at you makes me ache…”

Spike’s voice combined with the steady rhythm of his thrusts was bringing her closer and closer to a third orgasm. Buffy whimpered as he moved a little faster.

“Your touch makes my skin quiver…”

“Spike, please,” she pleaded, his words adding to the pressure building in the pit of her stomach.

“No one else has ever made me feel like you do…”

Buffy cried out as she climaxed again, seconds before Spike stiffened, shooting his load inside her spasming pussy.


Spike lay quietly with Buffy curled in his arms.

No matter how many times or how many ways they had done this before, nor how explosive their orgasms, he could never get tired of being with Buffy. Nothing compared to her and as she lay next to him, her eyes closed, in exhaustion or in sleep, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

How can I not love her, he thought, as he stroked her hair and then stopped, realising suddenly that his post-coital reflections had inadvertently revealed a long hidden truth.

He *was* in love with Buffy Summers.


Buffy lay in Spike’s arms with her eyes closed as he stroked her hair, as always marvelling at the wonder of sex with him. What she’d said earlier was true – it engulfed her sometimes; the awe at how well he knew her and especially her body.

He’s such an incredible man, she thought, smiling inwardly. I wouldn’t change one thing about him. He’s funny, caring, he’s amazing in bed. I really do love...

Neither the inward gasp nor the alarm bells that suddenly starting resounding in her head could annul the words her inner voice had all but uttered.

I love him.

I *love* Spike Giles.

Buffy’s head was pounding as she stood under the shower. It was six o’clock in the morning and she had been unable to sleep ever since the startling realisation of her true feelings for Spike.

She’d spent several hours standing out on the balcony looking out over the estate, wishing desperately that she could go back to being blissfully ignorant of the truth.

She knew she only had herself to blame – after all, she’d been the one to suggest their little arrangement in the first place. If she hadn’t, there would’ve never been anything more between them than a night of incredible sex and she would’ve avoided this disaster. Damn her treacherous body for wanting more. She’d honestly believed that her broken heart had been irreparable and that it would’ve been impossible for her to develop feelings for Spike.

But she had. She loved him. More than she could hope to explain. She’d fooled herself into believing that they could just have sex without having an emotional relationship and she should have known better. She could almost laugh at the irony – most people spent their whole lives searching for that all-consuming love and she’d give anything not to feel this way.

She had loved and lost Angel and it had nearly killed her – by opening herself up to loving Spike, she was opening herself up to the eventuality of one day losing him too and she couldn’t go through that pain again. The thought of losing Spike terrified her even now when she was only on the verge of discovering the depth of her feelings and she knew that if she allowed herself to explore them, she wouldn’t be able to survive the loss.

She had to nip this in the bud now. She could tell Spike that there was an emergency at the gallery and that she needed to return to L.A. She was sure Eduardo or even Cordy would drive her to the airport – there had to be a commercial flight to LAX sometime today.

Putting some distance between her and Spike was the only option.


“No!”

Spike jerked awake, the nightmare still fresh in his mind. It was a nightmare that had been on vivid replay throughout the night.

Him and Buffy together...getting married. She was beautiful, a vision, a goddess. Everything was perfect. Until he heard the shout from behind him.

“I object!”

Ethan standing at the end of the aisle, his eyes dark with rage. And when Spike turned back to Buffy, he saw Drusilla standing beside him, wearing the wedding dress.

And then he would fall to his knees, crying and cursing fate for everything. For taking away his best friend, for the endless guilt he would never be free from and for the feelings he had for Buffy – feelings he didn’t want to have and that she would never reciprocate.

He had been wrong to think he was immune to love. He loved Buffy, he had fallen in love with her – even after the agreement he’d made with her. He should’ve done what he’d planned to do the morning after their first encounter in London – he should have thanked her for an amazing night and gone on his merry way. If he’d done that, he wouldn’t be here right now having to deal with these wretched feelings.

And regardless of whether he was capable of having feelings for Buffy, it would be wrong for him to even contemplate exploring those feelings, when Ethan would never again know happiness or love.

The idea of spending the next few days trying to hide the truth from Buffy sounded like the worst kind of torture imaginable. He needed to think of something, anything he could use to justify curtailing their vacation – he could always pretend there was an emergency in London, something that he was personally required to handle.

If he could just get some space from her, then maybe he’d be able to bury his feelings.


When Buffy emerged from the bathroom, she found Spike up, dressed and talking on his cell phone.

“Okay, just make sure she’s ready to go in the next couple of hours,” he said, before disconnecting the call.

Still unsure as to how to go about telling the inevitable lie that would get her on a plane back to L.A., she went straight to the closet and pulled on some clothes.

“Buffy?” She turned around to face him, concentrating on fastening the clasp on her wristwatch. “Something’s come up and I have to go back to London.”

Buffy released a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. She was off the hook – if Spike was cutting their trip short then she didn’t have to.

“I would suggest you stay here, but I'd be able to make it back.”

She looked up, but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I actually need to get back too. Willow called – something’s come up to do with Tara’s exhibition.”

A chilling thought suddenly entered Spike’s head. What if she’d guessed the truth about his feelings and wanted to make it clear to him that she didn’t return them? But he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. How would she have guessed? He hadn’t done anything that might cause her to suspect the truth. It was just a coincidence.

“Okay, well we’d both better pack and get ready to go, then.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, pulling her suitcase from the closet.

An hour later, they left the estate behind as they made their way back to the airport with Eduardo at the wheel. Buffy closed her eyes and pretended to sleep so that she wouldn’t be forced to talk to Spike. She had no idea what to say to him.

Once they’d boarded the plane and they were in the air, Buffy pleaded a headache and headed for the sleeping quarters, remaining there for the majority of the flight. Just after noon, Pacific Time, the plane touched down at Van Nuys and Spike escorted Buffy to the waiting limousine that he’d arranged to drive her back to her apartment.

“I had a really good time,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Me too,” he replied. “I’ll call you.”

He had no intention of doing so, but she didn’t have to know that. He would claim to be too busy to fly out or for her to come and stay and hopefully their affair would just fizzle out naturally.

“Great.”

Buffy’s thoughts mirrored Spike’s. She would make excuses not to see him until whatever they’d had died a quiet death.

Not wanting to clue him in to what she was thinking and feeling, she reached up and placed a light kiss on his mouth.

“Goodbye, Spike.”

“Bye, Buffy.”

It was farewell that they both intended to be forever.


Thirteen and a half hours later, Spike arrived back at his London apartment. Leaving his bags in the foyer, he walked into the sitting room and collapsed into one of the leather armchairs.

His brain was going a mile a minute and yet none of his thoughts made sense. Nothing made sense. Usually he had a pretty good idea of the direction his life was going, yet at this very moment his future just looked like a gaping black hole – he didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

Well, there was one thing he wanted…no, needed. He knew what would make him feel better, what would take away the pain and the guilt and the unwanted feelings – at least for a little while.

Standing up, he walked over to the cabinet on the other side of the room, opened it and took out an unopened bottle of bourbon.

One month later…

“Damn B, what is up with you?”

Buffy turned to look at Faith who was standing behind her with her hands on her hips.

“What?”

“I’m getting married – you could at least pretend to be happy for me.”

“I am,” Buffy protested, her fingers playing with the silk fabric of the dress she was trying on for her role as maid of honour.

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it,” Faith complained. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile in weeks. Ever since you got back from your trip with Spike.”

Faith was right. Ever since she’d returned from the Dominican Republic, she’d been miserable. She missed Spike more than she’d ever thought was possible. Trying to outrun her feelings had only intensified them.

“B, what happened out there?”

“Nothing.”

“Do I look stupid?” Faith asked with a raised eyebrow which was so reminiscent of Spike that it made Buffy’s heart ache. “I’m your best friend, B, you know you can’t fool me. Something happened between the two of you, didn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Buffy said, wishing she could change the subject.

Faith rolled her eyes. “Of course it matters. You’ve been moping around like you’ve lost your right arm. So what was it? Did you finally realise you’ve been fooling yourself all this time and admit that you love him?”

Buffy looked away. Faith had always had a knack for hitting the nail on the head.

“You told him you love him?” Faith was excited now. She’d known for months how Buffy really felt about Spike and if her best friend had finally been honest with herself then it would hopefully spell good things for her. Although considering the look on Buffy’s face, it hadn’t gone down very well.

“I didn’t actually say the words. But the last night that we were together, I just felt this amazing connection with Spike and I suddenly realised that my feelings for him…they aren’t just physical anymore.”

“That’s great, B.”

“No Faith, it’s not great,” Buffy disagreed. “It’s the worst thing that could have happened. The reason I proposed this arrangement with Spike in the first place was because I wasn’t planning on falling in love again.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You know why not. If I fall in love with Spike then I’m just exposing myself again to all the pain and the hurt that I went through when Angel died. And if I lose Spike…”

“Who says you’re going to lose Spike?” Faith countered.

“Angel’s death taught me that you can never know what’s around the corner. And I wouldn’t be able to survive losing the man I love a second time.”

“Look, B, I love you,” Faith said, determined to get through to her best friend. “But you’re being irrational. Angel’s death was an accident. You couldn’t have prevented it, anymore than you can ever prevent something happening to Spike. You think it’d kill you to lose Spike? If you can’t take a chance on love and risk the loss that might come with it, then you’re giving up on ever knowing true happiness. And living the rest of your life like that – that’s what’ll kill you.”


“I’ve already asked you once, so get it done already!” Spike barked down the phone. “Or don’t bother coming in tomorrow!”

He slammed the handset down and leaned back in his desk chair. Picking up the packet of smokes sitting on his desk, he pulled one out, lit it and inhaled.

Slowly he could feel the anger starting to ebb away. He should be pissed at himself – up until a month ago, he hadn’t had a cigarette in over two years – but the nicotine was pivotal in helping him calm down after the outbursts of rage that were occurring more and more often these days.

His door opened and Wesley walked in.

“Bloody hell, knock much?”

“Lindsey from Accounts is in tears,” his cousin told him. “Not that I imagine that will make any difference to you.”

“Well, the stupid bint should have done what I asked her to do when I asked her.”

Wesley sighed, exasperated. “Spike, what is wrong with you? What happened to the William Giles that everyone, including your employees, liked and respected? Because he sure as hell isn’t sitting here in this office. Now it’s clear to me that there’s something going on with you, but there’s no need for you to be such a git.”

“Ever heard of the phrase ‘mind your own bloody business’?” Spike muttered.

“Look, Spike, you’re family and I care about you. So if you want to talk about what’s bothering you then you know I’ll listen.”

Spike scoffed as he stubbed out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on his desk.

“I don’t need yours or anyone else’s help, so just sod off will you?”

Wesley held up his hands in defeat. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t try.”

“Bloody Percy,” Spike grumbled to himself, as he got up to pour himself a glass of bourbon from the mini bar in his office. “Thinks he can make this go away…”


The next time Wesley came to Spike’s office, he knocked. But when he didn’t get an answer, he opened the door and walked in.

He was only mildly surprised to see Spike passed out on the leather sofa in the corner of the room, his hand still clutching a glass tumbler and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying on the floor next to him.

Walking over to his cousin, Wesley attempted to rouse him but to no avail. Although this wasn’t an everyday occurrence, it had happened more than once in the past few weeks and it was steadily becoming a big problem.

It was time to take action. Moving over to the desk, he lifted the telephone receiver and pressed number one on the speed dial.

“Anne, it’s Wesley,” he said when the person on the other end answered. “I need your help.”


Spike sat in an armchair in the living room of his parent’s Oxfordshire home. His head was throbbing with the pain brought on from the consumption of almost an entire bottle of bourbon. He thought he would’ve gotten used to the drinking by now, but he was still getting hangovers from hell.

A cup of coffee sat untouched on the table in front of him. He knew it would probably help, but the prospect of moving was not an appealing one.

The door opened and a woman walked in. She was in her late fifties and her brunette hair was streaked with grey. Her eyes were the same vivid blue as Spike’s.

“Oh, William, what have you been doing to yourself?”

She sighed as she sat down on the sofa opposite him.

“Wes shouldn’t have brought me here,” Spike sulked. “He had no right to call you.”

“He had every right,” Anne Giles told her son. “He’s your cousin and in this family, we look out for each other. Especially when some of us clearly can’t take care of ourselves.”

“I can take care of myself just fine.”

His mother raised a sceptical brow. “Oh, is that why Wesley found you passed out in your office and why you’ve been spending more time with your face in a glass of bourbon than you have actually running the company that your father worked so hard to build? I wonder what he’d have to say about that.”

“Oh, yeah, bring Dad into it, why don’t you?” he accused. “Make me feel even guiltier.”

“What do you have to feel guilty about?”

Spike didn’t answer.

“Is this about Ethan’s death again?” Anne asked. “Because I thought you’d gotten past that. I thought you were happy. Wesley even said you were seeing someone; Betty or something like that.”

“It’s Buffy and we were sleeping together, Mother. It was hardly the romance of the century.”

Anne didn’t buy his cynical attitude for a second. “Did you want it to be?”

“Does it matter?”

“If it matters to you then it matters.”

“Well it doesn’t so drop it!” Spike snapped, irritated as his mother’s uncanny ability to read him.

She rolled her eyes. “William you were a terrible liar when you were a child – what makes you think you’ve gotten any better with age? You know what I think? I think you’re in love with this girl.”

“How insightful of you…”

“And I think you’re too scared to admit it.”

He scoffed. “I’m not scared.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Spike knew his mother wouldn’t let it rest until he told her the truth. She was a determined lady and it was trait he’d inherited from her.

“I don’t deserve any of this.”

“So it is about Ethan then?” Anne confirmed with a sigh. “William, how many times do you have to hear this before you believe it? You were not to blame for what happened. The only person who should be feeling guilty is that bitch Drusilla, although I doubt that woman has a remorseful bone in her body.”

Spike half smiled at his mother’s use of what she always referred to as ‘foul language’. Behind her mild exterior, she was a spitfire, just like her son.

“She took advantage of your vulnerability. Had the circumstances been different, you wouldn’t have given in to her advances.”

“How do you know?”

Anne sighed again. “Because I know you. You’re my son, William. I carried you for nine months, I gave birth to you and I brought you up. I know you better than you know yourself. You’re a good man – you wouldn’t have done what you did if Drusilla hadn’t manipulated you.”

He hung his head. “But that doesn’t change what happened and that Ethan died thinking I’d betrayed him.”

“But you didn’t. Do you honestly think that Ethan would want you to be living your life like this – hiding in your work or drinking yourself into a stupor and running away from love because you think you don’t deserve it? That’s a waste of two lives. Three if you count Buffy.”

Bloody hell, he thought. She’s right. He’d walked away from the first woman he’d ever truly loved.

Not that it mattered so much when Buffy didn’t feel the same way about him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, dejected. “Buffy doesn’t love me.”

“How do you know?”

He then filled his mother in on how Buffy had lost her husband five years earlier and how she’d consequently sworn off love and when he’d finished, Anne gave a knowing smile.

“No wonder you fell for her. The two of you are so alike and you’re both as foolish as each other. You can’t just give up on love because you’ve lost someone you care about. If everyone did that, what a lonely place the world would be. You have to help her understand that, William, and give her the love she so desperately needs.”

What a wise woman his mother was – he only hoped he had an ounce of her wisdom when he was her age. Standing up, he pulled her into his arms for a hug.

“Thanks, Mum,” he said. Picking up the by now tepid coffee, he downed it and then headed towards the door, not missing his mother’s parting words.

“Go get your girl.”

Buffy looked around the gallery taking in the vast number of people who had shown up for Tara’s exhibition.

Willow was there, looking proud as punch of Tara, who she had recently started dating. Faith had also come and had introduced Buffy to her fiancé, Robin, a good looking black guy who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her best friend.

Unfortunately, having all those loved up people around her only made her think of Spike and she was trying her hardest to put him out of her mind, in the hope that her feelings might eventually fade or at least reduce in their intensity.

Taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she headed towards her friends who were standing talking to Lilah Morgan, a wealthy art collector.

“Buffy...”

The sound of her name being uttered by an all too familiar voice halted her progress, her heart leaping and then sinking as she turned to see Spike emerge from the milling crowd, his hair artfully mussed and looking as though he’d just climbed out of bed.

What was he doing here? She had begun to hope that his lack of communication since they parted ways at the airport over a month ago – even by email which had been their chosen method of contacting each other when they were on opposite sides of the Atlantic – would eventually make it easier to end their arrangement without ever disclosing her true feelings. Although given that he remained blissfully unaware of said feelings, there was really no reason for him to think that she’d be anything other than happy to see him now.

“Spike,” she said, trying to smile. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wanted to see you, luv. You look beautiful as always.”

Her white cocktail dress was a Valentino design, a slightly guilty purchase from one of her many recent jaunts in the name of retail therapy.

“Thanks – you look great too,” she said, hating him for looking so…so Spike.

This couldn’t happen. She couldn’t stand here with him and pretend that everything was the same between them. She needed to put a stop to this before she did something stupid like let him touch her when she wasn’t sure if she’d have the willpower to resist him.

“I need to talk to you,” Spike said, interrupting her thoughts.

“What about?”

He seemed different somehow and Buffy couldn’t help but feel a flutter of apprehension in the pit of her stomach.

“Not here. In private.”

Buffy nodded her assent and motioned for him to follow her into her office where he pushed the door shut behind him, before he spoke.

“I’ve missed you, luv…”

He would have made to pull her into his arms then if she hadn’t stopped him in his tracks with her next words.

“Spike, I don’t think this is going to work anymore.”

He frowned. “What isn’t?”

“This…us…you and me...” she trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Look, we rarely see each other – we live on different continents and we both have such busy lives, me with the gallery and you with your job…”

“Isn’t that how you wanted it?”

“Yes, it was,” she agreed. “But the circumstances have changed.”

“You’re right, they have,” Spike agreed, moving closer to her so that she had no choice but look at him. “Buffy, I l...”

Buffy cut him off. “Look Spike, this exhibition is really important to Tara and to the gallery and I should be out there with everyone.”

“Buffy…”

“Spike, I’m sorry that it has to end like this, but I really do think that it’s for the best.”

Allowing herself one final luxury, she reached up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before pulling away and leaving the room.


He wasn’t going to give up that easily, Spike decided as he stood outside the door to Buffy’s apartment later that night. Although he’d used the code to gain elevator access to her private foyer, given their current impasse, he didn’t want to use his key to invade her privacy.

Buffy opened the door at his knock and her eyes widened when she saw him standing there. Had she really expected him to just accept her termination of their arrangement and hightail it back to London?

“Spike, what are you doing here?”

She was still wearing that amazing white dress that looked both virginal and provocative and his cock hardened at the memory of what lay beneath it.

“We need to talk,” he said, moving past her to enter the apartment.

She shut the door and turned to face him, exasperated. “Spike, I’ve made up my mind…”

“And I don’t get to have my say?”

Buffy sighed. “What do you want, Spike?”

“I want you…I want to strip that dress from your beautiful body and remind you exactly what it’s like between us,” he murmured as he moved closer. “Cause unlike you, luv, I’m not going to pretend I’ve forgotten.’

She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but her tongue felt as though it was glued to the roof of her mouth. He backed her up against the door and she became intensely aware of his hard, male body beneath the designer suit.

Spike was annoyed at her for acting like he’d just been a convenience to her that she could pick up and drop whenever she wanted, like there hadn’t been a connection between them and he was determined to show her, to crack her façade.

He took hold of her hand and his thumb began tracing a lingering path along the delicate veins crossing her wrist and then up her arm, his fingers leaving a searing imprint as they travelled upwards.

“Stop it!” she cried, pulling her arm away.

He grinned. “You’re so beautiful when you’re angry, luv.”

“Please, Spike, just stop doing this!” she begged him. “We had a good time together but it’s over now…”

“Because you don’t want me anymore?” he enquired, still smirking. “You and I both know that’s a lie, pet. You’ll always want me.”

“In your dreams!”

He leaned closer and the familiar scent of him teased her senses. “They’re remarkably vivid. How about yours?”

*Technicolor with sound and emotional effects*

“I don’t dream about you!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Now why don’t I believe that?”

His eyes roamed over her body, making her feel as though he’d touched her and her skin tingled beneath his probing gaze. Her nipples rose in shameful arousal, fire coursed through her veins and her cheeks flushed with a mixture of temper and desire.

He reached up and before she could stop him, he’d slipped the straps of her dress from off her shoulders and watched it slide to the floor. A raw groan was torn from his throat when he realized she was only wearing a skimpy pair of white lace panties.

She made a move to cover herself up, but he was close enough to prevent her, taking hold of both wrists with one hand and keeping them pinned above her head. She gasped as he ran the pad of his thumb over one taut nipple and felt torn between the desire to feel him inside her just one more time and the certain knowledge that it would only add fuel to the feelings she was trying so hard to overcome.

She hated herself for her lack of resolve – this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. After leaving the Dominican Republic, she’d been determined to conquer her feelings and move on with her life. She hadn’t figured it would be so hard, that every night she would be plagued with Spike-filled dreams. Getting over him was turning into a nightmare.

Their eyes locked and his intense blue gaze mirrored the fierce desire she could feel engulfing her body. And as though some magnetic force was pulling her to him and she was powerless to resist, they suddenly came together, their lips meeting in feverish urgency.

“Damn it, Buffy. Tell me you want me. I have to hear you say it!”

“I want you!” she gasped against his mouth.

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her down the hall to her bedroom, where he set her down on the bed and after pulling off his clothes and her panties, he covered her with his body. She was more than ready for him and when he thrust himself inside her, they both gasped at the sensation, their pleasure heightened by the time they’d spent apart.

“Buffy, luv, you feel so good…”

“Oh, Spike…”

It wasn’t frantic, but it didn’t need to be. The feeling of being together again like this was so incredible that neither of them could last long. They both came quickly, trembling in each other’s arms, with Spike gasping out the words that he’d been longing to say all night.

“Buffy...I love you.”


Buffy froze, praying that she was hallucinating. She wasn’t.

“Don’t stay that…”

Spike sighed. “Buffy...”

“Please, Spike, don’t…”

Pulling away from him, she got up and covered her naked body with a robe.

“I can’t help the way I feel…I’m drowning in you, luv.”

“You have to,” she said, wringing her hands. “You promised me when we started this whole thing that you weren’t going to fall in love with me.”

“Why do you care, pet?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “You made it pretty clear tonight that our arrangement is over so why does it matter to you how I feel?”

“It just does.”

“You want to know what I think?” Spike said as he got up off the bed. “I think you love me too. And I think you’re just too scared to admit it.”

Repeating the words his mother had said to him, he could see exactly what she’d meant. He and Buffy were like two peas in a pod when it came to avoiding their true feelings.

“You’re wrong,” she insisted. “I don’t love you, Spike. What we had – it was enjoyable for us both, but good sex is good sex.”

“Is that all you thought it was?” he asked. “Technique?”

“I never asked for it to be anything else.”

Standing in front of her, he took hold of her arms. “Look at me, Buffy.” Grudgingly she turned her head to meet his eyes. “If you throw this chance away, luv, then we’ll both be losing out on something we could have for the rest of our lives.”

“Damn you, Spike.” Pulling herself from his hold, she turned away, tears pricking her eyes. “I was doing fine. Until you came here tonight intent on telling me how you feel and never considering how it would affect me, the pain it would cause me, hearing you say those words…”

“I don’t play around on jet skis.”

Buffy stiffened. “That was uncalled for and unfair.”

Spike sighed, regretting his insensitive words in his determination to make her see, make her understand what they could have together. “Tell me what you want, Buffy. What you really want.”

“I just wish things could be how they used to be. Simple. Uncomplicated.”

They couldn’t go back; it would be impossible to do so now that he’d realised the depth of his feelings – and hers if his assumptions were correct. “And what about love?”

“Love?” Buffy asked, her voice betraying a hint of scorn. “The everlasting kind? I had that once and it nearly killed me when I lost it.”

“Life doesn’t come with a guarantee.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say. She could barely even think with everything going on in her head – not to mention having his gut-wrenching declaration on auto replay and the fact that her treacherous body was still throbbing from their recent lovemaking.

Spike could tell that she was dealing with some serious inner conflict. A battle between the lingering pain of losing her husband and her own unwanted feelings. He couldn’t force her to admit how she felt. That was her own struggle. He’d made it clear to her how he felt and now he could only hope that she would find the strength to finally stop running.

“Buffy, I love you and I always will. I know it hurt you to lose Angel and you’re afraid that if you let yourself love me then you’ll lose me like you lost him. But I’m not going anywhere – I hate to disappoint you, luv, but I’m here for the long haul.”

Spike sat in his hotel room at the Four Seasons. He couldn’t sleep, his mind going over everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Wes finding him passed out in his office, his heart-to-heart talk with his mother, flying out to L.A., finding Buffy and making love to her again and then telling her that he loved her.

He’d told her that he was there for the long haul. He wasn’t going to let her slip away, not this time. He knew that her issues with their relationship stemmed from her fear of losing him, of history repeating itself. It was clear that she had still not fully dealt with her husband’s death and if she was going to be able to admit her true feelings, she needed to do that and to understand that as long as he breathed he had no intention of going anywhere.

He also knew that this was something she would have to do alone. He’d told her how he felt and that was all he could do. It was now up to her to win the battle against her jaded heart.

Which was why he was here now, sitting in this hotel room – it had been a long time since he’d needed to use a hotel in this city. He wanted to give her some space to think about everything that he’d said. And even though he knew he had to give her the time she needed, he hated just sitting here, waiting for her to call – he felt so empty without her in his arms.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the insistent ring of his cell phone and he dragged it from his pocket and pressed the call button without even bothering to glance at the caller ID.

“Buffy?”

“No, it’s me.” His mother’s voice sounded thick, as though she’d been crying.

“Mum? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s your father,” Anne choked out. “He’s been admitted to the hospital with chest pains. The doctors fear it could be another heart attack.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Spike assured her before ending the call and mentally preparing himself to ring Buffy.


Buffy had been out all night. After Spike had left, she’d felt the desperate need to get out of her apartment, which held too many memories of Spike to enable her to think clearly. Getting in her car, she’d started driving, eventually finding herself in the Santa Monica hills where she’d parked up and just sat, staring out over the metropolis awash with lights and trying to get her head around everything that had happened.

Just before dawn, she’d driven back down into the city until she’d reached the Rosedale cemetery.

The explosion that had caused Angel’s death had left Buffy without a body to bury and so she’d simply settled for having a memorial stone.

The morning sky was decorated in slithers of pink as Buffy got out of the car and walked through the cemetery gates, treading the familiar path until she reached the spot she had chosen. She slid to her knees in front of the marble plaque.


ANGEL O’CONNOR
BELOVED HUSBAND, SON AND FRIEND
1973-2001


Tears filled her eyes as memories of her all too brief time with Angel ran through her mind. The shared love. The laughter. Their hopes and dreams. The stark replay of his fatal accident.

How could Spike expect her to forget that? The pain was still fresh, as though it had only happened yesterday. And while she might appear to have come to terms with it, not a day went by when she didn’t think about Angel or mourn her loss.

Spike seemed to think it was all so simple. He’d told her he loved her and thought that that was enough, but it wasn’t. She loved him too, but that didn’t change the fact that she was scared of admitting it, of letting it become real, for fear that she would end up losing him.

He’d promised her that he’d always be there for her, that he would never leave her, the way that Angel had left her. But how could he make those kinds of promises when life was too precarious to afford him the certainty of keeping them.

Losing Angel had broken her heart and the shock had been so much greater because it had happened so fast. It wasn’t like losing someone to an illness, like cancer – the whole thing had happened so suddenly.

Would she still have married Angel if she’d known he was going to die? Of course she would have, because she’d loved him. It wouldn’t have mattered to her – she would have made the most of every day they’d had together.

Spike was right. There were no guarantees in life. Knowing you could lose someone shouldn’t stop you from loving them. Life was about making the most of the time you have with the people you love, no matter whether its twenty years or twenty minutes.

She hadn’t made the most of her time with Spike. They might have the rest of their lives together and they might not, but whatever time they had, she’d wasted so much of it already by running away.

How could she have been so blind? She’d almost thrown away her chance of being happy with the man she so desperately loved, the same man who loved her just as desperately.

Looking down again at Angel’s plaque, she suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over her. How could she sit here at the grave of her dead husband and admit for the first time that she should be with Spike, that she wanted to be with Spike?

Angel wouldn’t have wanted her to spend her life mourning him – he’d loved her and she knew that he would want her to move on and be happy. And there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she would be incredibly happy with the man currently waiting for her at the Four Seasons.

Less than twenty four hours ago the idea of admitting her true feelings for Spike had filled her with unimaginable fear. But now she felt an eager anticipation at the thought of seeing him, of telling him that she loved him and hearing him say it back and of finally being able to enjoy her hard-won happiness.

Brushing away her tears, she brought two fingers to her lips and then pressed them against the plaque, wanting to close the door on this chapter of her life as she embraced a new one.

“Goodbye, Angel,” she whispered.


After briefly returning to her apartment to shower and change, she drove west alongside Wilshire Boulevard towards the Four Seasons. It was now almost eight o’clock and the hotel was already buzzing with activity when she walked up to the reception desk.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” the brunette receptionist asked her.

“Yes, my name is Buffy O’Connor,” she said, wondering whether the butterflies that had set up residence in her stomach were due to excitement or nerves or both. “I’m here to see William Giles. Would you please telephone his room and let him know that I’m here?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr. Giles checked out early this morning. I believe he has returned to the UK.”

Buffy paled. He’d gone. He’d left without even calling her. All his words, his promises had meant nothing – he’d hadn't been prepared to wait for her.

Thanking the receptionist, she turned away from the desk and blinking back the tears, she rooted around in her purse for some tissues. As she spotted them, she caught sight of her cell phone, the blinking light telling her that she had a new voicemail message.

Grabbing the handset, she dialled the number for her mailbox and listened to the automated voice tell her the time and date of the message before finally playing it.

“Buffy, it’s Spike. Listen, luv, I’ve had to go back to London – my father is in the hospital and my mother needs me. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back, but I will be back, luv, I promise. Please wait for me. I love you...”

Oh, Spike, Buffy whispered to herself when the message ended. She could only imagine what he was going through right now and she longed to be with him, to hold him and comfort him. She couldn’t just stay here in L.A. and wait for him when he needed her.

Having made a decision, she dialled information who gave her the telephone number she required.

“Good morning, United Airlines, how may I help you?”

“Hello, I need a seat on your next available flight from Los Angeles to London.”

Almost twenty four hours after he’d arrived back in the UK, Spike unlocked the door to his apartment.

After failing to contact Buffy at the apartment or on her cell, he’d ended up leaving her a brief voicemail message, before heading to the airport.

Keeping in regular contact with his mother during the flight, he’d been relieved to learn that his father’s doctors had confirmed that he’d suffered an angina attack. Consequently he’d instructed his pilot to detour to a private airport outside Oxford, where his driver had met him to take him straight to his parents’ home. The following morning, he’d gone to the hospital to visit his father.

On arrival at the cardiac unit, he’d found Rupert Giles sitting up in bed reading, the book in his hands one of his treasured collection of first editions.

“William, my boy, come in,” his father had beckoned to him when he’d spotted his son standing in the doorway of his private room.

“Dad...how are you?” Spike had inquired solemnly, as he’d entered the room.

“I’m fine, son. Just a spot of angina. Nothing to get worked up over.”

“Rupert,” Anne had admonished from the chair beside the bed. “Angina is still a serious problem. If you don’t start looking after yourself then next time it will be another heart attack.”

Spike’s father had thrown him a grin. “See what I have to put up with?”

But the rolling of his eyes had been contradicted by the look he gave Anne. It was obvious to all who knew them that his parents still loved each other as much as they had the day they’d gotten married. Spike could only hope that one day he and Buffy would be just as happy as his parents were.

Now as he walked into his living room, he was surprised to see a fire burning in the hearth and even more surprised to see Buffy curled up in one of the armchairs fast asleep, an empty mug on the table next to her.

His heart leapt at the sight of her and kneeling beside the chair, he gently shook her awake. When she opened her eyes and saw him, she smiled sleepily.

“Hi...”

“What are you doing here, luv?” he asked as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face.

She sat up slowly. “I got your message.”

“I told you to stay in L.A.”

“Well you know me,” she said with a small smile. “Never was one to follow orders.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Spike replied, her grin inspiring one of his own.

He helped her to her feet and they stood facing each other, both a little unsure of what to say next, considering everything that had happened the last time they were together.

“So how’s your father?” she asked, biting her lip.

“He’s okay. They thought it might be another heart attack, but the doctors confirmed it was angina. He’ll need to stay in hospital for a few days, but he’s not in any immediate danger.”

She gave a little sigh of relief. “That’s good news. I was really worried for you. I know what it’s like to be scared of losing someone you love.”

“So...that’s why you flew all the way here?” Spike asked, his grin faltering. “You were concerned about me?”

“Well, yes, I...of course.”

Her acknowledgment that the motive for her visit was not to declare her undying love quickly extinguished the flicker of hope that had ignited in his heart when he’d walked through the door and found her waiting for him.

Cursing himself for his folly, he turned away and walked over to the window. “In that case, you can put your mind at rest because I’m fine. My father’s fine. My driver will be happy to take you to the airport.”

“Spike?”

“Look, Buffy, the last couple of days have been really crazy and I’m tired and I really don’t want to do this right now. So if you don’t have anything else to say, then please just go.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

Spike froze, wondering if he was hallucinating as Buffy walked over to where he was standing and positioned herself between him and the window. He was staring at a point above her head so she lifted her hands and cupped his cheeks, pulling his head down to look in his eyes.

They gazed back at her, wide and wet.

“Spike, you’re crying…”

“I wondered if I’d ever hear you say that.” He lifted his hands up to try and stem the tears. “I’m such a bloody poof.”

Lifting his hands away, she entwined his fingers with hers. “No, you’re beautiful. I don’t deserve someone as amazing and wonderful as you.”

His hands tightened their grip at her words and the shadow of regret in her eyes.

“Don’t ever say that, luv. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. Buffy, you’re my sunshine.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as Buffy pulled him to her, her mouth covering his in a kiss that was both passionate and tender. They stood there in front of the window for several minutes just enjoying the simple intimacy of kissing, their tongues tangling, their breath mingling.

“Spike…” she whispered, her mouth less than an inch from his and her soft body pressed against his hard muscular form. “I want to make love to you.”

“Oh, kitten…” Taking her hand, Spike pulled her down onto the rug in front of the fire, his mouth finding hers again.

Taking the initiative, Buffy unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers, slipping the material from his shoulders. She pushed him back onto the rug, before undoing his belt and zipper and removing his trousers. As usual he was going commando.

“You’re wearing way too many clothes,” he told her, rolling them over again so that he was on top and lifting her shirt up to pull it over her head. Then he stripped her of her pants and the scraps of pink lace covering her firm breasts and delectable pussy.

Both naked, they stretched out side by side on the rug, not touching, just looking into each other’s eyes.

“I love you,” Spike whispered.

“I love you too,” Buffy whispered back.

Slowly he reached out his hand and cupping her cheek he brought her mouth to his and kissed her with a sweetness that went beyond the physical act of love and betrayed his emotions. His hand left her face and slid down, his fingers ghosting over her breast and then pinching her nipple making Buffy gasp into his mouth.

Her mouth left his to trace the shell of his ear, making him groan, pleasure shooting straight to his groin. She moved down to lick over the corded veins of his neck and then down his chest, latching onto his left nipple and sucking and biting playfully. Spike gasped, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him so that his hot, hard cock slid against her drenched slit.

Reaching down, Buffy took a hold of his cock and slid her hand up and down.

“Uh, Buffy…yeah…touch me…” Spike moaned as her hand moved faster and shuddered when she sucked her thumb into her mouth and then brought it down to circle the tip.

She knew he was close, but she wanted him to come inside her, so raising her hips, she pressed her knees against his chest, and directed him into her.

They both gasped in mutual appreciation as she slid down onto him. He hadn’t even touched her pussy and already he could feel his cock being coated with her juices. His fingers dug into her soft skin as she began to move at an achingly slow pace.

She kept her eyes open, her gaze locked with his as she began to move faster, her walls contracting around his cock as her pleasure built.

Unable to take the cock-strangling spasms any longer, he pushed her back against the rug and began thrusting into her. Buffy caught on quickly, wrapping her legs around his hips and digging her nails into his muscular back, heated pleas and declarations of love being whispered in his ear.

He was hitting her at just the right angle and she began to tremble as she teetered on the edge of what she knew would be a mind blowing orgasm.

“Spike, please, I’m so close,” Buffy whimpered.

Their eyes remained locked as he slid his hand down between them to pinch her clit sending her careening over the edge. Her whole body shaking in orgasm, she squeezed her internal muscles hard and heard him gasp as he followed her into oblivion.


Later on, they rested amid the Egyptian cotton sheets of Spike’s king size bed.

“This still feels like a dream,” Spike told her, lovingly caressing her golden curls as she curled up beside him with her head pillowed on his chest.

She looked up. “You want me to pinch you?”

“Not with your nails, luv. I’ve still got the crescent shapes in my back.”

Buffy giggled. “I love you.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” he said with a grin, before his face turned serious. “I’m so glad you came to me, Buffy. I’m so glad you stopped running.” He stroked her cheek. “I know how hard it was for you. I know how much you loved Angel and how much pain his death caused you.”

“But I had to let go. I know that now. I didn’t realize it before, but now I understand that when there’s a chance for happiness you can’t let it slip away otherwise you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it. And I didn’t want that.”

“I didn’t either,” Spike admitted, immediately observing Buffy’s frown. “You weren’t the only foolish one, pet. I didn’t want to admit my feelings for you either at first and I was also wary about love because I lost someone too – my best friend, Ethan.”

Spike had mentioned Ethan to Buffy on a few occasions, but had kept the details to a bare minimum. Now as they lay together in bed, having declared their love and with no more secrets between them, he filled her in on the rest of the story.

“Oh Spike, your mother’s right,” Buffy told him, holding him close as he recalled his grief and his guilt. “You can’t blame yourself for Ethan’s death. Anymore than I should feel responsible for Angel’s accident.”

He nodded. “I know that now, but for a long time I couldn’t help but feel guilty, especially at the thought of loving someone when Ethan would never love again.”

“I get that. I think a part of my fear was the feeling of guilt that I was betraying Angel’s memory.”

“We’re a right pair aren’t we?” Spike said, brushing his mouth against hers. “Bloody perfect for each other.”

Spike cradled her to him, his hand still stroking her hair. She was amazing. She was beautiful. He never wanted to let her go. And without any thought or hesitation, he whispered the words he’d been longing to say to her from the moment he’d admitted to himself that he loved her.

“Marry me, Buffy...”

Buffy stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands down over her white silk dress.

It had only been three months since she’d admitted her true feelings to Spike and he’d asked her to marry him. Of course she’d said yes – she wanted to be his wife more than anything.

The wedding had been hastily planned and the ceremony and reception were taking place on the estate in the Dominican Republic – a rather fitting choice of setting given that it was where both she and Spike had realised their true feelings for each other.

As Buffy applied a final coat of nude gloss to her lips, the door opened and her bridesmaids, Willow, Tara and Cordy, and Faith, her maid of honour, entered, in a sea of gold silk.

“Oh Buffy, you look beautiful,” Willow announced with a gasp.

Buffy’s dress was a Vera Wang original; a simple ankle-length sheath with spaghetti straps and her shoes were diamond studded Christian Louboutin sandals. Her hair was a mass of curls pinned up with white flowers.

“She’s right, B,” Faith agreed. “Spike is not going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.”

Buffy grinned. “As long as he knows what to do with me, I’m not worried.”

“I don’t think you’ll have a problem there – he might even decide against the wedding and settle for dragging you to the nearest bed caveman style.”

The five girls giggled.

“Okay,” Buffy said. “Somebody pass me my bouquet and let’s get this show on the road.”

Cordy picked up Buffy’s bouquet – a colourful combination of tropical native blooms – and then they all headed downstairs and along the path towards the beach where an archway of white flowers stood on the edge of the cliffs.

The guests sat on folding chairs, a harpist provided the music and Spike stood beneath the arch wearing another trademark black designer suit teamed with a white shirt, his vivid blue eyes fixed on her as she walked down the makeshift aisle strewn with flower petals towards him.

When she reached the archway, he took her hand and smiled at her with such a look of love in his eyes that Buffy felt the sudden urge to cry with happiness.

Blinking back the tears for fear of ruining her mascara, she smiled back and they turned to face the celebrant.

“Friends and loved ones, we are gathered here today to witness a commitment between Elizabeth and William, or Buffy and Spike as they are known to you all, to love one another unconditionally and endlessly.”

After confirming the legality of their union, the celebrant spoke to each of them in turn.

“Buffy, do you take Spike as your husband and promise to love him all the days of your life?”

Buffy looked at Spike. “I do.”

“Spike, do you take Buffy as your wife and promise to love her all the days of your life?”

“I do,” Spike said, smiling.

The celebrant turned to the assembled guests. “There are many things I could say to Buffy and Spike today, but instead I choose to listen to the words they have for each other. Spike, if you would like to go first.”

Spike turned to face his bride.

“Buffy, I stand here in front of everyone we care about telling you how much I love you and for a long time I thought I didn’t deserve to feel this way. But the truth is, this love has nothing to do with me – it’s all about you. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. Your beauty, your kindness, your strength – you’re a hell of a woman. You're the one, Buffy, and I am going to spend the rest of my life cherishing everything you’ve given me and giving it back in return.”

Buffy felt tears prick at her eyes again, as Spike slid a gold wedding band onto her finger and then brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss it. She kept her gaze locked with his as she spoke.

“Spike, you’re my saviour. Five years ago, I suffered a heartbreaking loss and I thought my heart was beyond repair, until you came into my life and put it back together. It took me a long time to admit how I felt about you – I was scared and I tried to control my feelings until I realized that love can’t be controlled. It captures you and it doesn’t let go. I love you, Spike and I know that I don’t have to be afraid of that love because with you, my heart will always be safe.”

She slid an identical ring onto his finger as the celebrant concluded the ceremony.

“Buffy and Spike have exchanged rings and pledged their love for each other. It gives me great pleasure to declare them husband and wife.”

As their family and friends burst into applause, Buffy and Spike’s lips met for the first of many kisses they would share throughout their married life.


Several hours later, following a delicious banquet which included grilled whiting with pineapple and black bean risotto, chicken and sweet potato stew, rock lobster with avocado and okra leaves and bananas in cashew syrup, Buffy and Spike danced beneath the stars.

“I love you, Mrs Giles,” Spike said, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“I love you, Mr Giles.”

Twirling her around, he brought her back flush against him. “So when are you going to give me babies?”

“I don’t recall anything about babies being part of the deal,” Buffy said with a smile. “They’re a lot of hard work, you know. You wouldn’t prefer to just...practice for a while?”

Spike arched his eyebrow. “Oh, you can never have too much practice.”

They continued dancing as the merengue band providing the music started a new song.

“You know what, sweetie. I’m not so sure that we need any practice.”

Spike pouted. “Why not?”

“Because I’m already pregnant,” she whispered in his ear.

“What?”

She smiled at the dazed look on his face. “I did a test this morning. Hardly surprising, really, considering you never leave me alone.”

“Well it’s not my fault, luv. You’re beautiful and sexy and...totally hot for me.”

“You are so full of yourself!” Buffy exclaimed with mock annoyance.

Spike grinned happily as he drew her even closer.

“I bet it’s a girl!”



THE END!!!