He didn’t know why he was there. He wasn’t usually the sociable type. Yet he had slipped on his coat before realising what he was doing or where he was going. He just needed to be out; away. His body had grown restless planted in front of the television, his brain tired from the sheer inactivity. Nothing had been able to quell his agitation. So he was here.

Propped casually against the balcony rail, he surveyed the crowd below. The thrum of the bass moved through his body from his feet to his fingertips. The speakers below were cranked to maximum, his beer jumping slightly in his hand. Eyes narrowed, he scanned the people for a head of blonde or even a shock of red. But there was nothing.

There must have been over a hundred bodies in the place but it may as well have been empty for the lack of the one he wanted to see. His gaze shifted from the dance floor to the surrounding tables. He didn’t acknowledge the brunette below, three tables to the left. She lifted her eyes to him seductively, sitting forward in her chair, her arms crossing beneath her chest. She was giving him a prime view down her lilac knit top and he didn’t pause once. His eyes continued their sweep, ignorant of her interest due to his lack of any in her.

Downing the last of his beer, he turned his back on the mass below and headed for the steps leading to the bar. Despite his inherent lack of thirst, he found himself craving a whisky. It was second only to blood but tonight it would have to do. He could have headed over to Willy’s, he’d have been less conspicuous for sure but tonight was not about the beer. It was about her. He hadn’t seen her in five days and four nights. Tonight was Friday night. He would have bet his undead life on an appearance from her and her tag a long team. He shoved his empty pint glass across the bar and asked for a Jack Daniels. The waitress raised an eyebrow and picked a glass from somewhere over her head.

He patted his jacket to find his cigarettes, finding only an empty packet. Crunching it in his palm, he tossed it into the ashtray. A manicured hand placed a cigarette on the bar in front of him. He turned to find himself looking at the lilac girl. He placed the cigarette between his lips and leaned into the flame she offered him. He drew on it hard and she smiled.
“Thanks.” He exhaled and turned back to the bar, looking for the waitress and his drink. The brunette didn’t move, he could feel her stood at his elbow. He groaned inwardly. Turning to her once more, he smiled in time to see her empty her glass. He nodded at it in question.
“Rum and coke, thank you.” He collected his drink, ordered hers and placed a twenty on the bar. He smiled at her again, tightly this time and moved off into the crowd.

This time, he chose a shadowed spot by the stairwell. He leant his foot back against the wall and slipped out of the probing light show. People were getting wild on the dance floor courtesy of the free flowing alcohol. He saw the lilac girl looking for him across the room and shook his head slowly. It was always the ones you didn’t want that would hunt you down. The music suddenly changed from thumping rock to a melodic ballad. The dance floor emptied as couples coupled up and singles topped up. And suddenly, there she was.

She was sitting to his left, smiling slightly, as she observed Anya and Xander slow dancing. He noticed that she to was basked in shadow, cradling a glass on her lap. He saw her face harden as her eyes scanned the room, feeling his presence but not being able to detect him. He tipped the remainder of the whisky down his throat enjoying the burning sensation as it travelled into his gut. And then he stepped forward.

She had not wanted to come here tonight. She knew she would end up feeling like this; third wheeling. Third wheel Buffy. But Xander had insisted, promised lots of Bronzing fun with non-alcoholic beverages. She had her beverage but was yet to have her fun. The slow dancing couples swayed aimlessly in front of her, oblivious to everyone but each other. She wished herself some of that. Oblivion. Whatever shape it came in, she was looking for some of that. Sipping her coke, she closed her eyes and opened her senses. An all too familiar sensation washed over her skin. Vampire. Her arms went cold and her back stiffened. Eyes narrowed, she skimmed the room, reaching out into the darkest corners. Come out, come out wherever you are. And then he stepped forward.

His eyes were already fixed upon her, his empty glass redundant in his hand. His other, he brought upwards, sweeping through his hair. She remained still, her eyes meeting his but her breath caught in her throat. What the hell was he looking at her like that for? He looked different to when she had last seen him. He had been all light and smiles. Cream shirt, tan pants, brown leather and white teeth. Tonight he was black. Duster, jeans, shirt, eyes. She mocked his penchant for the gothic wardrobe but secretly, she thought it suited him. She raised her glass to her lips, swallowing her coke and along with it, the surprise that she had an opinion on Spike’s ensemble. She was feeling uncomfortable under the close scrutiny. Why didn’t he come over and start bugging her so she could tell him where to go? The routines were a lot easier to follow – well-rehearsed responses, the customary eye-roll and nose punch.

He reached out and deposited his glass on the table next to him, his eyes never swerving from hers. And then she was gone. Replaced in his line of vision by the brunette. "Look love, I'm flattered but really you’re barking up the wrong tree with me." He stepped to the side but she stepped into him, winding her arms around his neck.
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" She tilted her face up to him and he looked down into her hopeful eyes. She wasn't bad to look at, not really. Another night, another decade and he may have felt differently, shown a bit more interest. He gently pulled her arms down and back to her sides. "I've judged it for you."
His eyes flicked up and over her head to see Buffy glaring at them. A smirk played on the edges of his lips. Something was making the Slayer cranky. It was a free country, he was entitled to a piece of tail. And besides, it might do her good to see that he wasn't just a monster, he had needs. And there were girls that would fall over themselves to meet them. Just because the holier-than-thou Chosen One wasn't up for the job didn't mean he had to go without. The brunette was smiling again as he slipped his arms around her waist drawing her closer.
"On second thoughts, sweetheart, why don't you let me buy you another?"

The brunette perched herself on a stool as he beckoned the waitress. She slipped her left leg round his right and start rubbing it up the back of his calf. Oh, she was up for it alright. He looked at her hard as she babbled on, trying to muster up some kind of reaction to her blatant come-ons. But there was nothing. He tipped another whisky down his neck and smiled blandly at her inane chat. She had served her purpose now, he had given the Slayer some food for thought but now he was wondering how the hell he was going to get rid of her.

His eyes slid from person to person, nonchalantly, until they rested upon the Slayer. But she was rising from her seat. Dammit, she couldn't be leaving already. Anya and Xander were still smooching and shuffling on the dancefloor, she hadn’t even said goodbye to them. He pleaded silently for her to turn and look at him but her eyes remained lowered as she slipped her arms in the sleeves of her jacket and stalked towards the exit. If he didn't know better he'd think she was mad. An ember of hope flickered deep in his belly as he wondered if she was jealous, that seeing that girl draping herself all over him had bothered her after all. Then he realised she was probably doing a quick round of patrolling before doubling back to walk the Scoobies home. Yeah that would be it.

He growled low in his chest, angry that after all that waiting he'd only got to look at her for a few seconds. The brunette was still sat there, gazing at him like she would eat him right up. If he hadn't been chipped he would have eaten her up all right. He smiled sadly at the irony. Instead, he was here, lusting after the Slayer. Snarling, he slammed his glass onto the bar. It smashed, the shards skittering across the floor into the crowd.

The clack of her heels on the pavement was beginning to irritate her. She cursed her boots and wondered for the millionth time why she hadn't worn flats. Because I hadn't intended on patrolling, that's why. She exhaled loudly and picked up her pace. She considered going home to change them but then she wouldn't be back in time to walk Xander and Anya home. It would have been a lot easier all round if she had just stayed. But how could she have when Spike was practically putting on a sex show with a skank? Did he not have any decency? He could have taken her back to his crypt or at least outside, elsewhere. Entering the graveyard, she slowed her steps as they quieted on the grass. Of course, he didn't have decency, he was a vampire. He was depraved, deprived.. degenerate. She could feel the tension leaving her neck as she tried to think of as many "de" words as she could to describe him. Delicious... delectable.. de-what? She groaned loudly, lashing out at a nearby trash can. It splintered, spilling its contents across the path.

"Come on now, love, there's no excuse for littering. Some of us have got to live here you know."
"Here's me thinking you'd be right at home in the garbage. Something for you and your little ho-biscuit to roll around in." She tossed him a glare, swung out her hair and turned to leave. He jogged in front of her, blocking her way.
"Ouch love, what little nasty has got your knickers in a twist?" He smirked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, awaiting the inevitable fist in the face. Instead, she sighed. Exasperated.
"Spike, its late. I'm tired. I have things to do. You have someone else to do, so go, leave me alone." She stepped past him.
"As a matter of fact love, I sent the bint packing." He fell into step beside her as she continued with her sweep.
She ignored the relief washing up and down her spine and focused on showing him how much she really didn't care. "So what, your skank dumps you and I'm the benefactor of your stellar company for the evening? God really does hate me doesn't he?" She rolled her eyes skyward for effect.
His voice dropped, his tone deep and seductive. "Maybe he's trying to tell you something."
Buffy snorted. "Like what? That I did something really bad in a past life?"
Spike's face contorted with frustration. Was she really that dumb? Did he really have to spell it out to her? Growling, he shoved her sideways. She stumbled, falling against a tree, his arms around her, penning her in. He leaned into her, pressing her into the tree with the weight of his body. "Or that you should do something really bad in this life." She lowered her eyes, thrown by the sheer desire that was radiating out of his body and directly into her own. Involuntarily, she shivered. He smiled then, an evil twist of the lips. "See baby, it's not that bad really. In fact, you might find you enjoy it."

She slipped her hands between them, resting them on his chest. Looking up at him through her lashes, she smiled slowly.

"Don't count on it." She threw him off with a flick of her wrists, landed him squarely on his back in front of her. She moved over him. "You really think that I'd look at you? That I'd lower myself by even thinking of you in that way? Then you're more deluded than I thought."

He shook his head, clearing his vision quickly enough to see her stepping over him. He whipped his arm up, cracking it against the back of her knee causing her to crumple. She kicked her other leg out and heard the satisfying crunch of his jaw. Scrabbling forwards, she tried to stand but his hands gripped her ankle and yanked her backwards and onto his lap. "Come on love, your hardly even trying." His eyes were dancing. He could smell her now, her arousal seeping through the denim of her jeans as she tried to squirm from his grasp. She twisted to face him trying to unlock her wrists from his grip. He laughed as she bucked harder.
"Did someone forget to tell you that cave-man is out this year?" She grunted, raising herself up to headbutt him squarely in the nose. He roared, releasing her automatically as his hands flew to his aching face. She flipped deftly from flat on her back into her fighting stance. "Maybe you should have stuck with your skank after all - at least she was a sure thing."

He rose to his knees, assessing her carefully. He tilted his head smelling the air, she was on fire now. Her scent was getting stronger. Buffy paused, his lack of retaliation confusing her. Instead, he was just looking up at her with an expression she couldn't read. His eyes were fixed on her intently. Then his gaze started sliding. Her neck… to her breasts... to her stomach... to her thighs... Her breathing sped up a little in spite of the litany of curses she was stringing together in her mind. Damned vampire! She brought her fist back but he caught it before it landed. Holding her hand, he used it to help him stand.

"Now, now, pet." She was breathing hard now. Partly because she hated him so much she could dust him right now and partly because the way he was looking at her was making her begin to forget why she hated him so much. She looked down at his hand still holding hers. He stroked his thumb gently along the inside of her wrist. "See, that's better." He raised his other hand, pushing her hair from her face and behind her ear. God, how he loved her hair.

"Look Spike, I don't know where you get off..." She stumbled backwards slightly, dropping her hand back to her side.

"Don't worry love, I can show you." He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into him, his lips slanting over hers. She tensed immediately as he outlined the contours of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. He smiled against her, wedging his knee between her thighs. She gasped… his tongue taking advantage as it slipped into her mouth. Slowly, he moved his thigh back and forth against her crotch.

She willed herself to not respond, telling herself that the greatest revenge she could exact was to show him that he didn't do anything for her. But his tongue tasted so good and the pressure between her legs was delicious... and it was beginning to build. She let out a whimper and unconsciously, thrusted her hips in rhythm with his leg. And then it was gone... her eyes flickered open, dazed. Her arms automatically reached out as she fought to stay upright. He laughed now, a low chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. In one fluid movement, he had scooped her up and began marching across the graveyard.

"What are you...?" She began to protest.

"Hush, gonna move this somewhere more comfortable." He held her tighter incase she tried to jump but she rested her head on his shoulder and let out a little sigh. Surprised, he kissed the top of her head and wound his way through the tombstones towards his crypt.

He placed her back on her feet but he remained stood in front of the door. No way was he going to let her get away now. Any minute he was expecting her to let fly with the fists…and then with the bolting. He couldn’t spend another night yearning like some lovesick kid. He couldn’t quite read her expression but she wasn’t running. Yet.

“What’s up pet, you’ve been in my crypt before?” She was stood where he had left her, looking curiously round the room.

“I know – I just don’t ever remember it feeling so…”

“Warm? I know. Pinched myself a heater. I may be cold blooded but I still shiver in sub-zero temperatures.” He patted down his pockets, cursing when he remembered he was out of fags. Apart from the new pack on the table. He looked past her, weighing up whether it was safe to move. He didn’t want her legging it when his back was turned.

“Don’t worry, I’m planning on staying. And I was going to say cosy – it just seems… comfortable.” She smiled at him wryly, passing him the packet of cigarettes.

“I like to be accommodating.” He winked playfully as he lit up. Slowly, she moved around the room, examining everything.

He decided that she was telling the truth, that she was planning on staying, a while at least. The fever of lust was simmering in the air but he was intrigued by her perusal of his things. He watched from his armchair, amused, as she explored his fridge, ran her hands over the makeshift wall hangings and sniffed at some candles. “Scented?”

“Jasmine. Keeps the bugs out.”

“Who’d have thunk it, William the Bloody with jasmine scented candles.” She laughed then uproariously and he couldn’t help but laugh with her. Their eyes caught and they were silent again.

“I guess I haven’t taken the time to know you. Really, I mean.” She had tilted her head, lost in thought as she gazed at him.

He bit back the sarcasm and settled for shaking his head slowly. The fear of frightening her by saying something out of turn was too much.

She had never seen him laugh before. Not properly. She studied him as he cast his eyes downward as he took another drag from his cigarette. Somehow, he even made smoking look sexy. On him, it even smelt sexy. Tobacco, whisky and another scent she couldn’t quite place. All that came to mind was – masculine. A blush rose from her neck to her cheeks as she caught herself before those thoughts went any further. Her mind flashed back to the cemetery. God, she had been kissing him not five minutes ago, grinding against him like a shameless wanton… She was as bad as that ho from the Bronze. Cue inward eyeroll and much stern lecturing.

He dropped his cigarette, stubbing it out with his boot. He looked up at her through his lashes, almost like he was checking she was really there.

She had never seen him like this before. For one thing, he was quiet. He was usually more forthcoming with the dialogue. But more than that, he was vulnerable. In that one moment, she realised exactly how much what she said next would effect their entire relationship. Rejection, sarcasm, running away… all on the list of things she shouldn’t do right now if she ever wanted him to speak to her again. His eyes were hooked on her, this time not sliding up and down her body but his gaze firmly pinning hers. Blue meets green, ice meets fire. Both uncertain. The thing is, she did want him to speak to her again. One thing the night had taught her was that there was a lot more to Spike than she had ever thought possible. It went beyond the bleach, the accent and the bizarre animal attraction they seemed to have going on. In spite of all her reservations and the fear rolling around in her gut, she really wanted to find out what else lay behind his carefully constructed persona.

“About before… in the graveyard…” She swallowed, trying to select her words carefully. Her eyes flitted around the crypt, trying to look anywhere but at him as fought to form a coherent sentence. “What I’m saying is…”

His eyes hardened as the sentence hung unfinished in the air.

“No, no – it’s…” Dammit. She’d seen him closing off right in front of her and now her words were stuck in the back of her throat. She’d forgot to add babbling to her list of things not to do. He was mistaking her lack of vocabulary as a brush off.

“Don’t fret love, I know what you’re going to say. Big mistake right? Forget it should we?” He stood. His fists were clenching at his sides as he battled to maintain his control. “Yeah, I get it. It’s all bloody clear now.” His voice cracked as he spun away from her. He wouldn’t let her see him like this, see that he cared about what she thought of him.

“Spike, that’s not what I was going to say. I’m sorry for…”

“Oh, its pity time now is it? You’re sorry you led me on, you’re sorry that you could never feel anything for me and you’re sorry that you’ve bloody stepped on my bloody heart again. Spare me, will you? Just get out.”

The anger rolled across the crypt like an invisible wave. He remained facing away from her as she opened the door. “I really am sorry, Spike.”

He snorted.

She whispered, her throat hoarse from the strain of holding back her tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to tell you how I feel.”

He whirled around then, tears streaming down his face. But she was gone.

As soon as she had stepped outside the crypt, the heavens had opened and she had had no choice but to run. By the time she had turned onto Revello Drive and made it into the house, her hair was matted to her head and her clothes had taken the form of a second skin. Shivering, she flung her keys on the dresser as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The house was empty for the first time she could remember in recent history. Her mother was doing an overnighter in LA and Dawn was staying at Julie’s. Any other night, this would have been bliss but tonight all she felt was an overwhelming loneliness. The thought of getting into her bed and trying to get to sleep made her chest tighten as she knew she would be haunted by all that remained unspoken and all of the things she wanted to say to Spike but never could. Whatever had happened between them tonight had changed their relationship forever. There was no way around it.

Sighing, she stepped into the gloom of the living room and flicked on the fire. The flames leapt to life as she stood entranced by the flashes of colour and the welcoming heat. The room was bathed in dancing shadows yet looked strangely cosy. Peeling off her sodden jacket, she decided that she would stay in the living room for the night. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy and the warmth of the fire curling around her chilled body was enticing enough to convince her that the rest of the house would be far too cold for her to even think of settling anywhere else.

She yanked off her jeans and her sweater until she remained in her underwear. Spotting a blanket on the sofa, she grabbed it and threw it around her shoulders. It smelt familiar…. Holding the blanket to her nose, she inhaled deeply. Spike. He must have left it here on one of his ‘random’ walks. Her eyes filled up as she drew the material tighter around her body. Her minds eye conjured up their earlier encounter in the graveyard. The way he had grabbed her and kissed her and made her feel so alive and so…wanting. She didn’t realise she was wanting for anything until they had shared that kiss. If he hadn’t have gathered her up and taken her to his crypt she would have carried on regardless. The feelings he evoked were powerful, new and frighteningly addictive.

And now, it was ruined. Over before it had even begun. Another false starter of a relationship. At least this time she could console herself that he hadn’t ended it after they had slept together. That was usually the time that they started running. Well, apart from Riley. Took a bit longer but the end result was still the same. He was gone and she was alone. And upset and frustrated… Riley, although he had lasted a slightly longer distance than the others, was lacking somewhat when it had come to the more intimate side of their relationship. He was strictly a missionary guy, clock on and clock off. Literally, clockwork. Her entire body tensed at the memory. Normal sure wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.

Then she had found Spike. Sure, she had known him a lot longer than Riley but she never really saw him. Not properly. Tonight, she had found him. And tonight she had lost him. Breathing deeply, she inhaled his scent once more, fighting back the tears and instead focusing on how he had made her feel. How he ignited something so deep within she thought now that she may have imagined the whole thing. Nothing had ever reached to her that deeply. His eyes and the way they had penetrated hers… She groaned with remembrance.

Slowly, she unfurled the blanket from around her body, bunching it up against her breasts. She lay in front of the fire, clutching the cover against her almost naked form. Burying her face in the folds she whimpered at the sudden wave of loss that washed over her. She needed him. She wanted him, wanted to feel him against her body. Rolling onto her back, she skimmed her body with her fingertips… featherlight strokes from shoulders to thighs, all the while keeping her eyes closed and breathing deeply. Her skin was warm from the fire but her hands were still slightly cool from the rain. Suddenly, she found herself craving the cold… anything to replicate the feel of his body against hers. Grabbing her damp jacket, she rubbed it against her skin. The conflicting sensations of hot and cold made her gasp. Slipping her hand between her legs she stroked her outer lips firmly… she could feel her juices already, slick and spilling from her at the thought of him. Arching her back, she spread her legs wider, using two fingers to outline her opening, teasing. She imagined him doing the same with his cock and her hips thrust upwards craving what wasn’t there. She whimpered in frustration, aching for release, for completion. Slowly, she inserted a finger… her pussy clenching immediately at the invasion. She moved her hips, sliding her finger in slowly… deep. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to be filled, to be taken, to be with him. His face hovered behind her eyelids as she inserted another finger. Pumping them hard she circled her clit with her thumb but something was holding her back, she couldn’t quite get there. And she was so close… She was kicking her legs now, frustrated and broken at the thought she couldn’t even satisfy herself. Tears were rolling down her face as she fought to bring herself over the edge but couldn’t. Rolling over, she buried her face in the blanket once more, her body racking with sobs, her fingers still buried deep inside her.

She didn’t hear the front door open. She didn’t hear it close. But she heard the approaching footsteps. By then it was too late. “Spike!”

“Buffy?”

She was frozen, a rabbit in headlights. He clenched his hands at his sides, the compulsion to touch her almost overwhelming. His nostrils flared as her vanilla perfume, coated with the scent of her undeniable arousal closed around him. Her eyes widened as she scrambled for the blanket to hide her body, it not occurring to her that he had already seen everything. A flush crept up her face from her neck.

Spike noted her evident embarrassment. The blush made her even more adorable. Eyes locked, each taking shallow breaths. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as he studied the scene before him. An open fire, an almost naked Buffy and a blanket. His blanket. His blanket which she had been rubbing her face into while she... He groaned, low and deep. He couldn’t help it. His cock jumped, straining against the zipper of his pants as his eyes travelled up her legs, her partially obscured body and her mussed up hair falling in loose waves over her face. She had twisted to face him, her breasts bared to him but shielded by shadows. He licked his lips at the sight, thinking of how her nipples would feel on his tongue, how the weight of her breasts would feel resting in his hands. She realised his eyes had dropped and squeaked when she realised she was exposed to his stare, gathering the blanket around her tighter.

“Bit late for modesty, love.” He stepped into the room, each step slow and purposeful.

She sat up, hunching her limbs together and pulling the cover up around her neck. “Why are you here?” Her voice was low and quivering. He had to leave, he shouldn’t be seeing her like this – so broken, so useless.

“To make some apologies of my own.” He crouched next to her, his eyes levelling with hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to speak.” He brushed his hand through her hair, sighing. “I’m sorry that I told you to leave.” He rubbed the thumb of his other hand across her swollen lips. She leaned her head into his touch, enjoying the soft caresses. Her eyes flickered shut as he traced the contours of her face. His other hand moved from her hair, down her neck, softly outlining her shoulder blade. He slowly pulled at the blanket revealing more of her smooth tanned skin.

Her eyes snapped open then, filled with hesitation, fear and renewed embarrassment.

“Hush, love.”

“No, we – I can’t.”

He studied her carefully, trying not to let the weight of her words crush his heart once more. He had overreacted last time and look where that had gotten him. Granted, she was half-naked in front of him but it was still far from a happy-ever-after scenario. He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face towards the light of the fire. His fingers traced the tear tracks on her flushed cheeks and he tilted his head again, this time in question.

“I can’t, I couldn’t…” This time, her voice was barely audible. A hoarse whisper. Her eyes lowered, her body trembling under his close scrutiny.

He looked at her, still bewildered at what she was trying to tell him. “Pet, I know you lost your words before and I could bloody kick myself for losing it with you. I didn’t mean to shout, I just thought you were blowing me out. Again. I mean, you’ve done it before and to be honest, I don’t think I could take it again – not after we kissed and we…” Another tear slipped down her cheek and rolled onto his thumb. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just came to finish off what we started.”

She looked up at him then and he would swear that if it has heart had been beating it would have stopped right then. He didn’t know what she was going to say next but her mouth was moving and words were forming and all he could hear was static echoing in his ears. Please don’t kill me, love. He silently pleaded to all the gods he could think of, despite the fact he had turned his back on them all long ago.

“Spike, I couldn’t…” Her eyes met his, unwavering. Defiant but vulnerable.

Another wave of her scent teased his nose as he fought to keep his composure. Then it hit him like a train. She had come home and found herself needing comfort… and had found his blanket, using it as a way to bring herself… but she hadn’t been able to. She couldn’t. He swallowed hard. The scene before him took on a whole new colour. He had thought that she had merely been frustrated by their encounter and her pleasuring herself had been a way of releasing the tension that had built between them earlier that night.

“I couldn’t go to sleep because I knew I would dream of you. So I lay awake and all I could do was think of you. And I needed you so badly, Spike, I tried to feel how you made me feel before in the graveyard… but I couldn’t… it wasn’t enough.” She blinked at him, eyes shimmering with yet more tears. “And I can’t have you, Spike. I can’t let myself have you if all you are going to do is leave me. I can’t let myself feel you if I’m going to wake up one day and you’ll be gone.”

His lungs constricted as he absorbed the words that fell from her mouth. If he had needed oxygen, he might well have been hyperventilating about now. His jaw had dropped open as he fought to process her speech. God help him if this is what happened to him when she found her words. She wanted him. She needed him. She longed for him for Christ’s sake. But the reason she had been keeping him at bay was her fear. Her fear that he would be like the others, Captain Cardboard and the poofter. Not to mention that pimply freshman, Parker. He gave himself a mental headslap. William the Bloody, never much of a thinker.

This time, it was his silence that hung between them. Taking it as acceptance, she moved to stand. She had to get as far away from as possible. Whoever said that confession was good for the soul was a liar. The humiliation and the mortification of admitting her feelings to Spike was enough to make her want to hide. Forever.

Before she could gain her balance, a hand clamped around her wrist.

“Oh no. No more running for you.” He gave a sharp tug and pulled her back down until she was half lay in front of him. She was mad now, her chest heaving as she fought against his grip. He opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind but the flash of rage behind her eyes along with her scantily clad body, now almost fully bared to him after he had unceremoniously yanked her back to the floor, served as too much of a distraction. He was sick of words and trying to find the right ones. They only got misunderstood. Tonight had proven to him that the age old adage might be well true. Actions speak louder.

Her eyes searched his as he gaped at her, panting. What was left to say? There were no words left.

It was the first time they had been in agreement all night.

He leaned forward, so close that he could feel her breath on his lips. He was consumed with the pleasure of her sheer proximity. It was almost too late. He communicated his emotions to her with his eyes, so full of emotion, an unspoken askance of permission to continue. He couldn’t continue if she wasn’t going to be right there with him. He released her wrist. If she truly couldn’t give herself to him then he couldn’t make her. But with every fibre of his being he hoped that she would.

She looked down, her anger subsiding. Free. Automatically, she went to reach for the blanket. He moved back slightly, waiting for her to shield herself from him once again. But instead, she tugged it from underneath her and tossed it to the side, exposing the full length of her body to him. He gasped as she stretched out in front of him, lifting her hand to the back of his neck drawing him closer. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. Before he could suppress it, a growl rumbled in his chest. Permission granted.

Leaning down to catch her lips with his own, he felt a weight he didn’t know he had been carrying lift from his shoulders. He had Buffy in his arms and she was willing, wanting and she was holding him close. Hell, sometimes he’d stood next to her and felt like they were oceans apart rather than mere touching distance… but now, she was arching up to him, moulding herself against his frame. The heat from her bare flesh burned him through his clothes and suddenly it was too much. He broke the kiss and his insides clenched as she whimpered at the loss of his touch. Her hands were reaching for him, stroking his arms, his shoulders and winding round his neck to pull him back down to her. He stroked her cheek softly and she nuzzled into his touch. He growled again, louder now, frustrated. Standing, he kicked at his boots whilst shrugging off his duster.

She rolled on her side to watch, wide-eyed on the floor as he bared himself to her. He yanked his t-shirt over his head and she gasped. Never before had she seen such a perfect body. The lines of his stomach were so smooth and so defined he almost looked hand-carved… the fall of his shoulders and the curve of his waist… and just when she thought she’d seen perfection, he tugged at his jeans and peeled them slowly away. She automatically lifted her gaze, a pale blush filling her cheeks, barely visible in the firelight.

He chuckled, low and soft as he watched her wage an internal war… so charming. His Buffy. His. Goddammit, she was now. Her eyes were flicking round the room now, embarrassed and aware that he was staring at her so intently. He dropped in front of her, as she dropped her eyes to the floor between them. He leaned forward, peppering little kisses on her forehead and down her nose… she sighed and her eyes closed, giving in to the sensations. Reaching between them, he laid his hand over hers entwining their fingers. He felt her lock her grip as he swept his tongue over the shell of her ear, admiring the delicate line of her neck as she tilted her head to bare more of her skin. Her breathing was shallow now and her scent was so strong it was making his cock jump. It was already jutting out proudly but her sighs were slowly undoing the final threads of self-control he had left. If she didn’t touch him soon he would dissolve into ashes in front of her eyes.

He lifted her hand and placed it on his stomach, his hand guiding hers across the ripples and planes in a torturously slow move that made her squeeze her eyes shut and her body squirm on the blanket.

“Look at me love.” His voice was unusually soft. He licked down the line of her jaw as he pressed her hand more firmly against his body.

“Spike…” She shrugged her shoulders as though trying to escape the tension building under her skin. He leaned back, studying her profile.

“Look at me.” He whispered this time and she was compelled. Her eyes opened meeting his, green orbs flashing with fear… and excitement.

“Now feel me…” Their hands moved back and forth across his stomach, up his chest and back down his sides. He slowed slightly as he watched her rub her legs together then drop them open slightly, lifting her hips and then starting all over again. He didn’t think she was aware of her movements, her body was reacting to the call of his own and he had experienced no feeling more delightful or exquisite in his hundred plus years on this earth. He paused as he heard her sharp intake of breath. Her move.

Her hand slipped from underneath his and continued the trail down the indent of his hips and to the soft curls between his thighs. She may have been unable to look at him before but now she was focused, her eyes heavy with pure desire. Her fingers teased lightly, fingering the soft curls. His hips twitched and she smiled up at him then. A purely feminine smile that made it impossible for him not to smile back at her. Then her hand was moving again tracing a feather light trail from the base of his cock to the tip. Her tiny hand encircled his shaft and squeezed him lightly, sliding her fist up and down in short, jerking movements. How the hell does she know how I like it? That’s right love, no playing… tug it hard… He thrust back against her hand and like she’d read his mind, her hand moved faster and faster. He laid his hand over hers once more, her gaze flicking up to him to see if she was doing something wrong. Unable to speak, he shook his head and merely held her hand as she continued to wank his cock. Feeling her hand under his coupled with the building tension in his body was sending his head into a spin. He looked at her hand working at him and then at her face, tight with concentration. Beautiful Buffy… And then he almost came all over her hand for he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Her other hand was buried between her legs, fingers buried deep inside her pussy. He could see her skin shining with her juices and her hips bouncing in rhythm with her thrusts.

“Buffy, I…”

She stopped then, her hand dropping away from him as she lay back onto the floor. Like she knew he was close and knew he didn’t want it to be that way, not for their first time. She was moaning now, low and long…

His eyes were captivated by the sight before him as she brought herself closer and closer to the edge. He bit back his control once more as he watched her pounding her fingers into her pussy. He lay down next to her, his head resting lightly on her shoulder as he traced lines up and down her arm. “Add another finger love…That’s it… Move them faster…. Drive them harder.” She whimpered at his encouraging words. He knew she had to do this… and he knew she wanted him to help her.

He kissed her collar bone lightly as she ground down onto her hand. The scent was overwhelming and he couldn’t help but throw his leg over hers and rub his cock lightly against her hip. They groaned in unison as she angled herself away from him and he timed his thrusts with hers. “So bloody hot, so bloody beautiful…” He was panting now, his control slipping away from him – transfixed by this goddess.

She rolled over, reaching behind her, cupping his ass to hold him to her back. Then and there he realised she was trying to kill him. Death by foreplay… even without the sex these were the most treasured moments of his undead life. When had he ever had it like this? Her hips were moving in a frenzied blur now, her head thrown back into the curve of his neck. His cock was pressed between them, nestled in the cleft of her bottom as she jerked back and forth on her fingers. If he moved, would he frighten her? Her other hand was still firm on his backside and at the first slight movements of his hips she dug her nails in so hard he knew she would leave marks.

The simultaneous pain and pleasure undid him there and then and he began slamming against her back, his cock slipping up and down the narrow little crevice. She was keening now, her breathing punctuated with cusses and cries and he held her hip tight, their movements as one. “Let it go Buffy, come for me.” He grunted as she bucked against him, her movements a blur as she lifted her hips and slid onto his cock. He felt the change immediately as his demon took the reins. The heat of her around him was like sunlight on his skin. His cock swelled as she clenched her internal muscles around him and he hammered into her harder. Rolling her over onto her stomach, he mounted her from behind, his hips pistoning like he was drilling her into the floor.

She screamed… loud. She beat her fists onto the carpet as she pushed back against his cock. He felt her come all over him… a rush of warmth and a flood of wet coating his balls… He gripped her shoulders then, pulling her up to her knees as he felt himself draw closer. He was so tightly encased within her that it physically hurt him to withdraw… she was his perfect mate. His perfect fit… The change of angle had brought her close once more and he reached around to squeeze her breast and pinch her nipple lightly. The smallest of touches was all it took as she tossed her head from side to side, then latched onto his arm with her teeth. He roared as she sat up fully, pressing her back to him as she slammed down onto his cock. She wanted it all… She reached her arm around behind her head and tugged hard on his neck pulling him to her throat. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t… He tried to throw himself back, pull away from the temptation but she pushed his mouth against her skin. “I want you to, Spike… I need you to.” His lips curled back and his teeth skimmed the surface of her neck. “Please…” He sank his teeth down, piercing her skin. She cried out as she fell over the edge again. This time he went with her. He stilled inside her as they peaked together… both shuddering as he spurted thick cold jets deep inside her womb and took long slow pulls from her neck… His hips jerked lightly as he continued to swell and pulse inside her. She ground her body down as though to take it all in, to not lose any of him… He gently withdrew his fangs from her neck and rested his forehead against her shoulder blade. The room was silent save for the sounds of their panting. On top of him, she began to shake. The aftermath of the world shattering around her ears.

He wrapped his arms round her as though to lift her and she cried out, turning herself into a dead weight in his arms. “Hush pet, it’s okay…” Slowly, he leaned to the side and rolled them over together, still intimately connected, spooned on the blanket. She sighed then, contented.

“Buffy, love, I’m not letting you go now. Be mad to. I’m not going anywhere right? I mean it, I’m staying right here. I won’t leave you, not never- not ever.” He mumbled into her shoulder, brushing his lips against her back as he spoke.

She turned slightly so he could hear her barely audible whisper. “After that, you’d better not.”

He laughed and raised his head to kiss her temple. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He caught sight of a smirk playing across her lips. “I meant you’d better not go anywhere ‘cos I’m gonna stake your ass for biting me.”

“You can try love but right now, you’d do well to remember who’s staking who.” He jerked his hips, his cock shifting deep inside her. She gasped, caught by surprise. “In fact, I’d wager it’ll be me who will be doing the staking from now on…right?” He slid out and thrust into her in one, long, languorous move. He stilled, waiting. She groaned and nodded furiously as he began his slow, measured movements once more.

Yeah, she could live with this.