The bar was dark, seductively shadowed in the corners and thumping with the rhythmic beat of sultry music, bordering on painful, perfectly in tune with the pulsating lights, and filled with a smoky haze. All in all, the ambience provided the perfect setting for what he desired; a place where lonely hearts converged, seeking sex…love…companionship, all the while being submerged in a sweaty pit of anonymity. He’d been here before, dozens of nights, searching for something more…more than what he’d possessed over the years, someone to fill the void that filled his blackened heart. Prowling night after night, he stalked the streets, swam through the churning masses in the dance clubs, hunted and captured nameless faces, preyed on the flesh of the innocent, and had yet to feel the sweet taste of fulfilment.

Tonight…tonight it would be different.

Perched at the bar, an old chunk of chipped black lacquer, he sipped on three fingers of the establishment’s finest whiskey and waited for something or someone to strike his fancy. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. His conquest for the night turned out to be a petite blonde that sauntered through the frosted glass entrance and strutted right past him without a second glance; a rarity for him. Needless to say, he was intrigued.

She was dressed to kill in nine to five business wear; body hugging black pencil skirt, silk blouse the color of rich wine with just enough cleavage showing to make a man’s mouth water in anticipation, and mile high black stiletto heels. Honey colored locks tumbled past her shoulders and fell seductively around her face; shadowing her eyes and begging to be touched. In her wake, the air was suddenly filled with the tantalizingly sweet smell of her perfume. His senses were suddenly filled with the soft aroma of lavender and the heady aroma of her body’s natural musky scent, although the smoke filled room should cloud the delicious scent. Inhaling deeply, eyes closed as if to memorize the aroma, his mouth watered as his mind wandered to all the naughty places she might have teasingly placed tiny droplets of perfume; dreamed of licking each and every pulse point until she was writhing beneath him. Opening his eyes slowly, as if waking from sleep, he watched her walk away with hooded eyes and mentally undressed her luscious body in his mind. Spike felt his cock swell and his chest tighten in anitcipation. She was the one, his conquest for the night. Lifting the glass to his lips, he sipped slowly and felt a tiny sliver of hope build in his heart that she might be more than a midnight companion, and silently prayed that her path in life wasn’t simply to follow the untimely paths of those before her.

His eyes darkened to a lusty midnight blue as they followed her every movement, waiting to see what her destination would be. Finally, she taunted him by elegantly folding her petite frame into a black leather chair at the opposite end of the room, crossing her legs so a delicate slip of flesh on her thigh peeked out seductively from the side slit. Spike knew she noticed him; all women did, it was a matter of fact and not just his ego talking. He had been told time and time again of his attractiveness; tall and slimly built, muscular, but not overbearing, angular cheekbones and mesmerizing azure eyes combined with an unnatural shock of platinum hair. Attractive, he was indeed.

Time passed slowly, a seductive haze clouded his perception as he observed his mystery woman from afar. He had already sent over two drinks, a hot pink concoction that seemed to contradict everything about her presence, but had advised the cocktail waitress to conceal his identity. When delivered, Spike had chuckled lightly at her confused expression as she desperately searched the crowded room for the mysterious sender. As he watched her unwind, her smile widen and eyes gleam with that flirtatiousness that only intoxication can bring, he prepared for his approach; only to be thwarted when another man fell into the seat next to her. Growling low in his throat, Spike returned to his seat, plopping down angrily and glaring at the mismatched couple.

His competitor was bulky in build, broad shouldered with the dark, over coiffed hair men seemed to prefer nowadays, too much gel and standing on end as if the wearer were in a perpetual state of shock. His black eyes were brooding and full of unadulterated lust. While most men would be put off by a little competition, Spike thrived in such a setting; all he needed to do was re-evaluate his plan. Flagging down the waitress, he cleverly sent over another pink cocktail, only this time with a note.

When the waitress delivered yet another drink, this time with a handwritten note penned on a crisp cocktail napkin, her eyebrow cocked and one corner of her berry stained mouth turned upward in amusement. He watched intently as she inquired as to whom the sender was and lifted his drink in a toast when her luminous eyes fell upon him. As soon as eye contact was established, nothing else existed but the two of them; suddenly alone in the bar as if the rest of the world had simply melted away.

Tall, dark and boring grew frustrated at her sudden lack of interest in him, but he continued to hover around her like an annoying fly intent on procuring a tasty treat. Waving him off with a disinterested flick of the hand, she rose from the armchair as if in trance; magically pulled towards him like she had no will of her own. Eyes glazed over, mesmerized by his gaze, she teetered slightly on impossibly tall heels and slowly wound her way through the crowd towards the mysterious draw of the man at the bar.

At last, she was there, standing so close to him that her body heat radiated against his him. He widened his legs, opening them up to her and smiled when she unconsciously slid forward to be cradled by his thighs. He reached out and touched her; caressed the soft skin around her exposed collarbone, leisurely traced the pale blue line of her vein upwards until his fingertips brushed along her jaw. His gaze slowly descended from her lust filled orbs to her luscious lips, his nostrils flared as he watched the tip of her pink tongue dart out to nervously wet the lush bottom lip before drawing it between her teeth, biting lightly and completely oblivious to the spark of desire that one simple action sparked deep within his body.

Growling low in his throat, he grabbed her tiny waist, dug his slender fingers into her flesh and pulled her against him roughly; so close that their bodies were barely a whisper apart. Leaning forward slightly, Spike nuzzled along the delicate curve of her neck, nipped at the heated flesh beneath his lips, and suckled the soft slip of earlobe. Her breathy moans and mewls of desire fuelled him, drove his mind wild with need and stoked the flame of passion deep in his belly. “What’s your name, kitten?” He murmured against her cheek before moving up to trace his tongue along the outer shell of her ear.

“B…Buffy,” She whispered, her voice hitching nervously, causing her stumble over something as simple as her name. Her hands clutched at his waist, tightened with a combination of lust, want, and fright. “Yours?”

“Spike.” He pulled back to look into her eyes, pooled with longing and heavily lidded with passion. Studying her closely, he asked, “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He smiled at her embarrassment, her cheeks tingeing prettily with a pink blush. Spike decided he liked the flush in her face and made her flush a deeper red by saying, “I bet you taste like strawberries.”

“Well, I am wearing berry flavored lip-gloss.” Buffy informed him boldly, her eyes widening in surprise when he took her admission as an invitation and leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss. His lips pressed against hers, soft and flavored with the strong taste of whiskey. She opened her mouth ever so slightly when his tongue brushed against her lips, slipping inside to mingle with her own in a timeless dance of seduction.

His hands slipped beneath her shirt, caressing the heated flesh that lay beneath the cool silk, inching upwards with every stroke until the tanned length of back could be seen by anyone who looked their way. Buffy paid no attention to the state of her clothes, fully entranced with the man whose talented lips had her head spinning, heart pumping, and panties soaking wet with longing. She pressed harder against Spike, his rock hard length throbbed against her belly and she literally tried to crawl onto the stool with him…morals be damned, she wanted to fuck him now and didn’t care who was present as long as it happened now. So, when Spike pulled away from her, denied her the pleasure of his kiss, she growled with frustration and tried to pull him back into their embrace.

“Uh-uh-uh, kitten,” He chided as he straightened her top and licked his lips, grinning like the cat who had just licked the bowl free of cream. “Mmm…you taste better than strawberries.”

Her response was a shaky sigh followed by a lick of her own lips, as if savoring the lingering taste of his lips on hers.

Spike guided Buffy out of the way, just far enough back that he could slide off the stool and stand up. Looking down into her eyes, glazed over with lust and passion, he cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Wanna get out of here?”

“A world of yes,” Buffy answered quickly; her voice deepened with desire and shaky with an exhilarating swirl of longing and apprehension. When he held out his hand, she nibbled on her bottom lip and slipped her hand in his; allowing him to lead the way.

Buffy followed quietly, allowing him to navigate them through the clusters of bodies that had filled the club in the late night hour, gracefully making his way to the neon sign that lit the exit. He pushed the door open quickly; his eagerness caused the heavy metal door to clang loudly against the brick wall. Spike looked around the alley, dimly lit by one lone street light at the end of the street, before leading her towards the shadowed alcove where he turned to face her, wrapped his hands around her biceps and roughly pushed her against the brick wall; an action that should have infuriated her, but only spurred her desire for more.

He fell upon her lips, hungrily attacking the soft pout and growled low in his throat when she returned his actions with equal fervor. His hands tightened around the thin slips of her arms hard enough to bruise almost instantly, but she never protested; which pleased him immensely. One of his many cravings was that he enjoyed a little pain with his pleasure, so her lack of protest and moans of pleasure were driving him mad; include the sharp sting of her nails as she clawed at his back through the thin material of his shirt and he was lost to his passion.

His knee slipped between her legs and Buffy widened her stance slightly, her movements hampered by the severe tightness of her skirt. Spike broke away from the kiss, his hands moved swiftly to the hindering garment and ripped the black material along one side; tearing it with a loud rip until the slit was way higher than mid-thigh. Settling in between her thighs, he smiled devilishly before attacking her throat with his mouth: licking, nipping, suckling and biting hard enough to leave marks along the smooth skin; all the while causing delicious sounds of delight to spew from Buffy’s mouth. Oh yes, he’d definitely chosen the right woman.

Her breath came out in pants, sending little puffs of steam into the cold night air around them as Spike assaulted her neck and drove her insane with need. She couldn’t take it anymore; she had to have him…now. She slid her hands down his back, across the firm mounds of his delectable ass before slipping around to the front to claw at his belt. She tugged at the annoying contraption for what seemed like hours, but was actually only about thirty seconds before he noticed and asked, “Eager, kitten?”

She glared at him and tugged on last time on the black leather strap, crying out with joy when it finally gave way. Gripping the top of his black jeans, she pulled him towards her sharply and in one swift move unsnapped every button on the fly. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Not at all, luv.” He growled and pushed her back against the wall, reaching underneath the torn skirt to skim his hands up her trembling thighs, cupping her ass tightly before sliding up to hook his thumbs around the sides of her thong. With a sharp tug, he ripped the pink garment from her body and tossed the tatters to the ground. “In fact, your demanding nature turns me on.”

Pulling her against him, Spike slipped his hands down to cup her ass and picked her up to push her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his narrow waist and sighed with pleasure when he slid his hand between her legs, brushing against her moistened center. Eager for his touch, Buffy arched her back, thrusting against his hand and whimpered pitifully for his attentions.

“Such a naughty lil’ girl, aren’t you? All hot and wet for me.” Spike murmured, slipping his fingers over the slick folds of her pussy, teasing her until she screamed in frustration. “You wan’ me in here, pet? Want me to fuck you against the wall, make you scream my name while you cum around m’cock? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Buffy cried, her voice dripping with desperation. Her eyes flashed angrily and she tightened her grip around his waist and demanded, “Fuck me. Now!” Impatient, she brushed his hand out of the way and shoved hers down his pants, smiling brightly with false innocence as she wrapped her hand around his cock tightly. “My, my, my…what a big cock you’ve got there.”

“Better to fuck you with,” Spike growled as he thrust against the tight grip of her hand. He slid his hand over hers and pulled his dick out and guided it to her heated opening; brushing the swollen head over the tiny sensitive bud teasingly. She glared at him and squeezed harder, demanding him to take her with one look, before moving her hand away from his cock to wrap her arms around his neck for stability.

Buffy cried out loudly, her voice echoing in the empty alleyway, when he pushed into her; stretching her widely to the point of near pain, filling her more than anyone had filled her before…finally giving her what she needed. He stilled for a moment, to adjust to the chokingly tight confines of her body.

Chests heaving, their bodies started moving together, thrusting against one another almost violently; both yearning for the heady mix of pain and pleasure. Her cries filled the air as he slammed her into the cool brick wall, digging his fingers roughly into the smooth skin of her ass, the slight stub of his chipped black painted fingernails scratched across the delicate planes, no doubt bringing angry red welts to the surface.

Moving frantically against one another, Spike leaned down and covered her lips with his own; sucking the protruding bottom lip between his lips and nibbling the succulent flesh until a tiny trickle of blood slithered down her chin. Chest rumbling in desire, Spike feasted on the small amount, licking the moisture from her chin, suckling the trail down to the delicate curve of her neck. Face changing, he slammed into her, ripping screams of pleasure from her throat as prepared to bite, but a small gasp drew his attention back to her face. It wasn’t a gasp of surprise, more like an exclamation one might make in excitement. Lifting his head, he glared at her with amber colored eyes.

Buffy licked her lips, looked him in those beautiful golden eyes and shakily said, “Do it.”

Buffy struggled to catch her breath as Spike slowly lowered her trembling body so that she was able to stand on her own. Wobbling slightly to the right, she glanced down and realized that at some point during their heated tryst she had lost a shoe and was now seriously unbalanced. Leaning against the wall for much needed support, she lifted a shaky hand to the fresh wound on her neck, still dribbling ever so slightly with warm blood, and asked, “Am I like you now?”

Spike had barely gotten his belt buckle back in place when he was thrown for a loop. Whipping his head upwards, he glared at her with a puzzled expression and exclaimed, “‘f course not! What gave you that impression?”

“I…uh, I mean, that’s what happens in the movies, right?” she replied timidly, feeling a little more than stupid at the moment with her clothes in disarray and wobbling on one black spiked heel. “I’m not dead, so I just assumed…”

“Well, you assumed wrong, pet,” Spike retorted sharply. His mind wandered back to their coupling, when his fangs and cock had been buried in her delectable warm body and he remembered the brief flash of possession that had washed over his body, the faint moment that he’d actually thought about taking her life and keeping her with him for an eternity. Of course he’d quickly brushed the whole notion aside, securing it tightly in the darkest corner of his mind where he’d hidden all of his hopes and dreams that would never be fulfilled. It was crazy to think two people could spend a lifetime together, much less an eternity, right? “Consider yourself lucky.”

Lucky? No, that was certainly one thing she did not consider herself. If anything, Buffy Anne Summers was the complete and total opposite of lucky, had been since day one and there didn’t seem to be any reprieve any time soon. “Yeah, right!” she scoffed as she started checking the surrounding area for her other shoe. Anger seethed just below the surface and the telltale prick of tears stung her eyes as her hopes were quickly dashed. Not wanting Spike to see the tears that were now spilling over her lashes, Buffy bent over to retrieve the wayward shoe and slid it on.

“What’s your bloody problem, woman?” Spike bellowed, unable to take the silent treatment any longer. He could sense her anger, feel it rolling off her body in furious waves, silently lashing out against him even though she refused to act on the emotion that was obviously eating away at her. “D’you want to be dead? I deliberately kept you alive, saved your sodding life and you’re upset with me for it?” Flicking the lighter angrily, he lit a cigarette and inhaled sharply before continuing his rant. “What is it with women never fucking being happy with what they’re given?!”

“Happy! I don’t know what that even is!” Buffy cried, turning on him like a madwoman, her breath coming out in small pants as she unleashed the frustration and sorrow that she had successfully kept at bay for weeks…until now. “I needed you! I’ve searched for weeks to find you, tracked body after fucking body until I narrowed it down to the bar you’d be at tonight.” Sobbing, she gulped large mouthfuls of cool night air and wiped furiously at the hot tears streaking her cheeks. “I knew what I was looking for, just didn’t know the who part, until tonight. Until I walked past you and felt like a bug under a microscope, like an innocent deer about to get noshed on by a bloodthirsty cougar, and I knew…I knew it was you that could help me…be the answer to my prayers.”

“Could you be a little clearer, pet?” Spike asked sarcastically around the butt of the half smoked cigarette. “I might posses some supernatural abilities, but deciphering a hysterical woman isn’t one of them.”

“I needed you to make me like you! Why else would someone blatantly search for a vampire?” Buffy shrieked, her voice cracking under the sheer force of her emotions. “Why didn’t you? I thought that’s what you people did!”

“Not bloody likely, at least from my standpoint. Don’t need some fledgling following me ‘round like a sodding lost puppy for all of eternity.” He tossed his cigarette to the ground and watched the orange flamed tip fizzle out as it rolled into a nearby puddle left over from last night’s rain. “What, you got a death wish or something, kitten?”

“No! Actually, I have a rather large case of Non-death wishing going on at the moment.” Buffy replied, her voice somber as she spilled her dark secret. “I…I found out that I’m dying and I’m not ready, so I thought that maybe…”

“That maybe you could indulge in a bit of gothic lore and find yourself a creature of the proverbial night to rescue you from death, is that it?” Spike snorted as he closed the gap between them; backing the troubled young woman into the wall he’d just fucked her against only moments ago. “Hate to bust your bubble, but we’re all dying.”

“Y…you’re not,” she pointed out nervously as he leaned in closer, his face only a breath away. Her heart beat wildly against her chest, like a wild thing trying to escape the depressing confines of its solitary cage, as his predatory eyes came in to view; the passion and lust that filled them earlier no longer present, now they only glowed with a fierce combination of animalistic rage and demonic hunger.

“No, I’m already dead,” he lashed out, pinning her between his arms, his palms face down against the cold, moist brick wall. Spike leaned in closer, his lips brushed against the smooth column of her neck, fluttered across the erratic beating of her pulse just below the golden skin, his nostrils flaring as his demon reveled in the heavenly scent of her fear and just the slightest hint of honey coated desire seeping in along the edges. Tracing the faint blue line of her throbbing vein upwards to nibble along the outer shell of her ear, murmuring against the soft curves, “M’ heart no longer beats, m’ lungs no longer fill with the cool night air, m’ skin is as cold as marble and m’ blood no longer belongs to me, but is borrowed night after night from the lovely ladies that fall prey to m’ deadly kiss.

“I haven’t seen the sun in over a century, haven’t felt the warmth of its rays on m’ skin, seen its beauty blazing in the sky, giving humans the life they need. I’ve outlived m’ family, watched them live their lives, grow up and fall in love, bear children and lastly, wither and die as I stood in the shadows and silently grieved for their pain, and envied their lives,” he paused long enough to let the weight of his words penetrate her mind, darting his tongue out to tease the silken nub of her earlobe until her body trembled in the confines of his arms. “Why would you want that for yourself, luv?”

Forcing her eyes to meet his steel blue gaze, she bravely responded, “It’s the only hope I have left. I’ve got a brain tumor…the doctors give me maybe eight weeks to live without surgery.” Sniffling, she ducked beneath his arms and walked a couple of steps, trying to gather her wits and refrain from crying again. She was tired of tears. Crying had been about the only thing she’d been able to do as of late. Most of her days were spent lying in the bathroom, sick to her stomach from the monstrous migraine brought on by the cancerous mass eating away at her brain. She would lie in the fetal position and seek solace from the cold floor, a pretty mosaic tile in a rainbow of blues she’d painstakingly handcrafted the summer before, when she’d had to busy herself after her fiancé left her at the altar.

“Isn’t there an operation?” Spike inquired, suddenly feeling like a right bastard for ever approaching her in the bar, for screwing her like a wild animal against the wall of a dirty alleyway, for feeding on the blood that kept her alive even for the short amount of time she had left. “Surely there’s something that can be done, yeah?”

“There’s nothing,” she replied bitterly. “I don’t have insurance, nor do I have the time to wait around for some kind doctor to fix me voluntarily. Even if I went through with the surgery, there’d still be like a seventy percent chance that I’d still croak; either on the table or sometime later.” Buffy let the tears slip over her lashes once again; no longer able to keep them welled up in her eyes. Seeking comfort, she wrapped her arms around herself and whispered, “I’m not ready to die. I’m not ready to not be here.”

Something came over Spike, a spark of compassion he’d long thought dead, a rush of sympathy so intense that it had him stalking across the alleyway to gather the weeping slip of frightened woman into his arms. He whispered words of comfort, attempted to lift the heavy weight on her heart, and placed feather light kisses across the downy hair along the crown of her head as she sobbed wholeheartedly in his arms.

Spike felt useless, but not hopeless. He knew what she wanted, knew how to ease the pain on her heart, the sickness that was eating away at her from the inside out. Pulling away from her slightly, he wiped his thumb across one cheek, brushing away the tears that stained the flawless skin and looked deep into her liquid green eyes. “You’re sure about this?”

Hope ignited in her heart at his words, at the look of resignation that filled the inhumanly beautiful features of his face. Nodding, she choked on the remaining tears and produced a watery smile. “I’ve never been surer.”

“Family? Friends? Anyone that might come looking for you?” he asked cautiously, feeling immensely stupid for even asking such an absurd question. Of course a woman as beautiful and intriguing as she would have some bloke waiting at home for her, masses of friends waiting to see her smiling face, a doting set of parents joyfully nagging her to get married and produce fat little grandchildren for them.

“Nope, nobody,” she announced, a pained expression crossing her face at the thought. “My mom died seven years ago when I was eighteen, no siblings, and I haven’t spoken to my dad in like fifteen years since he left us. Big fat no on the romantic aspect, my fiancé, Riley, left me at the altar last year. And, my best friends still live back on the east coast. They’ll miss me, but…I don’t see them going overboard trying to hunt me down; we sorta lost contact several years ago when I followed Riley over here.” Looking up into his concerned eyes, she asked, “So, you’re gonna…do it?”

“Can’t believe it, but yes, if it’s what you want.” He failed to mention that he’d been toying with the idea for years, of finding one person to haunt the nights with, to make eternity a less lonely journey. That he had seriously entertained the notion when he’d been buried intimately inside her sweet lil’ quim and sucking the spicy blood from the buttery soft skin of her neck. Just thinking about their heated coupling had his nether regions hardening again; filling with the blood he had borrowed from her body, pulsating with the desire to fuck her.

Instead, he dropped his arms and stepped away, freeing her from his hold, silently giving her one last chance to run screaming away from the fate he was about to deal her. When she blinked at him innocently, and stood fixed to the spot refusing to leave in fear, Spike held out his hand chivalrously towards her and said, “M’lady.”

“Where are we going?” Buffy asked, slipping her warm hand inside the cool flesh of his and allowing him to escort her out of the alleyway.

“Thought I’d take you back to my place, kitten,” he informed her, leading her around the corner into a darkened alcove that held a rickety set of iron stairs at the end. Motioning her to go ahead of him, Spike dug in his pocket for a set of keys and said with a grim tone, “What you’re about to go through is rough enough without doing it in a dingy alley.” Reaching the top of the stairs, he stepped around her petite frame and unlocked the door; sweeping his arm across his body, he said, “After you, luv.”

Once inside, Buffy blinked several times to adjust to the sudden lights as they flickered on overhead to reveal a posh living area/kitchen combo. What exactly does a vampire need a kitchen for, she wondered as she inspected his living quarters. Wood floors gleamed under the sparkling lights, shaggy black and red rugs were scattered across the span of the room for a cozier look, accompanied by several cushy black leather sofas and one recliner draped in suede the color of dried blood. Instead of regulation tables, an antique trunk served as a coffee table, along with two blocks of roughly cut marble in place of end tables; candles littered the tops and she had yet to notice a table lamp.

The kitchen had even less flair to it; no table, instead there were four barstools lined against a gleaming steel covered bar and the appliances still shone with that “straight from the showroom floor” type of newness. “Nice place you got, been here long?”

“Couple of months,” Spike replied, leaving out exactly how he came about the acquiring the loft, or anything inside of it. Buffy might be prepared for the transition stage of becoming a vampire, but he wasn’t quite sure she was ready to hear all the gruesome things associated with living as one. “Figured the bedroom would be the most comfortable place, yeah”?

“Sure.” She squeaked, blushing furiously at her nervousness. Seeing Spike smile softly at her awkward behavior, she smiled back and took his offered hand; letting a wave of ease wash over her as he led her towards the back of the loft where the lone bedroom was placed.

Stepping over the threshold, her spiked heels sank deeply into the thick fibers of the plush heather gray carpet and she flicked them off in favor of padding around the dimly lit bedroom barefooted. Surveying the room she would soon die in, Buffy slowly walked around checking out every minute detail, sliding her hands lightly across the velvety smooth crimson bedspread and inhaling the aroma that was inherently Spike; smoke and musk, with faint underlying scents of leather. Turning to him, where he stood framed in by the dark wood of the doorframe, she ran her hand across the silken pillowcases and asked, “Is this where…I mean, is it a sex thing?”

“Can be if you want, luv…doesn’t have to be, of course.” Spike replied, desperately trying to contain the chuckle that had bubbled up at her innocence. Hell, he’d had her screaming his name while he fucked her roughly not an hour before and all of the sudden she was too shy to ask if they would be having sex?

“I want it. Sex, I mean. If…if that’s all right with you?” Buffy stammered nervously as she crawled onto the bed. Settling in the middle, she leaned back against the mountain of black silk pillows, licked her lips with anticipation and held her hand out towards Spike.

Taking her hand, Spike turned it over and placed a kiss against the underside of her wrist, feeling the blood coursing below the delicate skin and nibbled his way up her arm to drop another kiss on her lips; this one filled with passion and hunger. Pulling back, his tongue dancing behind his upper lip, he leered at her with a cocked eyebrow, and said, “I know it’s just because you can’t keep your hands off m’ hot, tight body.”

“As if!” she cried with mock indignation while swatting him playfully on the arm. Rethinking the matter, she decided to retract the comment. “Ok, well maybe just a little bit…you are pretty sexy for a dead guy.”

“I knew you wanted me, can’t resist can you?” he retorted saucily as he leaned up to whip his shirt off and fling it across the room to land haphazardly across a chrome and black leather chair tucked away in a corner; soon to be joined by a pair of black jeans. Glaring down at Buffy, he growled, “You’re wearing entirely way too many clothes, kitten…either strip or risk losing the only outfit you’ve got for now.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like you haven’t already destroyed the skirt, right?” she retorted, eyeballing the ripped material with a sarcastic grin as she slipped it over her hips and down her thighs; revealing her bare pussy to his hungry gaze. “Too bad about my undies, though…they were new and I liked them a lot.”

Quickly losing the battle of wills as she slowly removed the black skirt inch by teasing inch, Spike licked his lips hungrily at the sight of her bare skin glistening with juices in the faintly lit room. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he stalked up the bed like a panther hunting its prey. Slowly, he crawled over her trembling body until he was nestled between her thighs. He wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled her off the bed to perch on his lap.

Buffy’s body quaked with desire, trembled with uncontrollable passion, her skin was on fire with each touch of his hands as they caressed her thighs, wrapped them around his body and lifted her from the bed to intimately circle him. The hardened length of his desire was pressed against her heated center, teasingly probing and driving her mad with fervor. She watched, her eyes glazed with lust, as he lifted one pale hand and leisurely unbuttoned her crimson colored silk shirt; baring her breasts to him inch by inch before slipping it off her shoulders, and slide it down her arms to pool on the bed beneath her.

Her breath came in shallow pants as he traced the swell of her creamy breasts, dipped below the lacy material of her bra and teased the rosy peaks that lay below the pink material. She wiggled in his lap, begging for him to take her, trying her best to allow his cock to slip inside her and make her feel the ecstasy she’d drowned in earlier. She whimpered, a low pitiful sound, when he growled at her actions and gave her a heated look with his glacial eyes that shouted for her to behave. Stilling her motions, she watched in near silence, only the faint sound of her breathing filling the room, as his fingers ghosted over her breasts as if memorizing them by touch.

The feel of her skin, soft as velvet and hot as fire, beneath the pads of his fingers was mesmerizing, tantalizing and damn near one of the more erotic moments he’d ever had. To hold a woman so intimately, feel the heat of her core radiating against him, the softness of her skin under his hands, the whisper of her breath against the curve of his neck, the rhythmic fluttering of her heart next to his chest, were experiences he’d hadn’t allowed himself in years. Leaning in close, Spike nibbled on her neck, dipped his tongue into the tiny hallow at the base and spread open mouthed kisses along the golden skin of her chest until his mouth brushed the pillowy top of her breast. Nibbling and nipping at the heated flesh through the lacy material, he stopped to suckle the peak of her nipple before biting down gently with blunt teeth and smiling around the pebble as the slight bit of pain caused her to gasp sharply. Continuing on to the other breast, he lavished the same attention and this time, managed to pull out a moan of desire from between her lips when he bit down harder. Pulling away, he kissed the sweat glistened skin between her breasts and murmured, “Are you certain, luv?”

Buffy’s desire laden mind barely registered his question as he whispered against her chest. Shaking her head, as if to clear away the lusty fog in her brain, she managed to speak, “Look at me, Spike.” She waited until their eyes were connected before continuing, “I want this. I need you to do this for me. And, if you decide to stick around afterwards, if you realize that an eternity without someone to share it with is going to be seriously lonely…then, that’s like adding extra chocolate fudge to an ice cream sundae. So, stop asking me if I’m sure and take me, ok?”

“You’re a right bossy bint, y’know that?” Spike growled against her neck, biting sharply at the curved juncture. “And, I like that, kitten.” Pulling back, he reached up and wrapped two fingers around the slip of fabric between her breasts and ripped the bra from her body; eliciting a cry from Buffy, a mixture of shock and desire. “Course, I tend to get a bit out ‘f control from time to time when ‘m ordered around.”

Buffy panted with need, with want, with desire as she glared into his eyes with a heated gaze. Wanting him now, unable to wait any longer, she slipped a hand between their bodies and wrapped it around the cool, marbled shaft that was trapped there. Licking her lips, their gazes still locked, she rose up ever so slightly and sank down, taking him in with one swift movement; relishing in the intense bite of pain as he filled her quickly, not giving her body one second to acclimate to his girth. Moving her hips seductively, her arms wrapped around his and her nails dug sharply into his flesh, she breathily demanded, “Fuck me, Spike!”

Growling at her demands, Spike clamped his hands around her tiny waist and thrust upwards into her; taking her hard and fast as per her demand. Pumping in and out, his cries of passion filled the room to combine with her moans of pleasure in a heady mix of ecstasy as their desire built, climbed higher and higher until it bordered on the peak of completion. Spike slipped into his demonic visage, nuzzled along the flushed skin of her neck and nibbled along the faint blue line of her vein. Sensing that she was about to tumble, spill over the edge and give way to the orgasm that trembled just below the surface, Spike sank his fangs deep into her throat and drew heavily on the rich, tangy blood that flowed freely into his awaiting mouth.

Stars sparkled behind her closed eyes; pleasure peaked and swirled through her body as her release claimed her when Spike’s fangs pricked her skin. Buffy’s body tightened, her hands clawed at his back, slicing the cool skin into an array of bloody ribbons as the pleasurable feeling of her release bled into the dizzy feeling of her life slipping away. She vaguely noticed Spike’s cry of passion as he spilled his dead seed deep into her womb and shuddered in her arms. Her eyes weekly opened and dimly gazed into his amber eyes when he held a bloody wrist to her mouth and ordered her to drink; barely registering the sharp metallic taste as his blood flowed into her mouth as her eyes finally shut and she drifted off into death.

Death filled his room, lurked in the shadowed corners, and coated it with the bleak darkness of loneliness and despair for three long, agonizing nights. He waited, perched next to her ghostly pale form, unmoving for the duration. Her lips, tinged blue, never moved; breath ceased to fill her lungs and escape her body with a whispered sigh. Her lackluster blonde tresses fell around her shoulders, the once shiny gleam stripped away as her life slipped away into nothingness. She remained beautiful to him even in death, though not the same vibrant figure she had been in the alleyway, but breathtaking nonetheless. Leaning forward ever so slightly, Spike softly caressed the cold skin of her once flushed cheek and wondered where he’d gone wrong.

Should it take this long for her to awaken? To have preternatural life soar through her reanimated limbs so that he may never have to spend another night walking through the darkened streets alone? Spike’s face was creased with worry as he fussed over her, searching hopefully for any signs of stirring. He’d never brought anyone over, never allowed another to willingly feed off his blood and bring them across to the proverbial dark side. Had he completed the task correctly? Had she fed from him long enough, taken enough blood to allow the demon to grow and emerge? How long would she remain a corpse in his bed?

Straightening his body, Spike cracked his neck from side to side in hopes of relieving some of the tension built there. When no relief came, he sighed heavily and clenched his eyes tightly in frustration. He was weak with hunger and the pain radiating through his body was so fierce that he could no longer ignore it. The blood he’d taken from her willing body no longer provided the sustenance he needed to live. His stomach clenched with pain, the desire to feed growing stronger the longer he waited. His fangs tingled with the ache to delve into the warm, supple flesh of his next victim; willing or not. Spike closed his eyes in anticipation and imagined the scorching heat of blood filling his mouth, coating his tongue with a delicious tang before slipping down his throat to settle in his awaiting stomach and finally satiating the pain that filled his body.

Glancing down at the slip of woman in his bed, Spike knew he couldn’t wait any longer. She’d need to feed if…no, when she woke up. He’d be the logical choice until it was safe to take her out into the world to hunt prey as he did. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a brief flash of his past flickered and Spike smiled softly as he remembered his first feeding. The pale column of Drusilla’s neck, soft and smooth, as he plunged his newborn fangs deep into the vein that held the warm blood of her victims before his wakening. Not wanting his beloved Buffy to feel any more pain than necessary, he made the decision and slid off the bed, dressing quickly in his typical attire of black pants and shirt before slipping out of the apartment in search of food.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun hung low in the sky, barely stretching above the horizon in a vibrant swirl of blues, purples and pinks as Spike crossed the threshold when he finally returned to his temporary home. Shrugging out of the black leather duster that he’d worn faithfully for over a century, he casually tossed it over the back of a nearby chair and headed straight for his bedroom; his withered heart figuratively in the back of his throat. Nervousness flooded his body as he forced his feet to carry him down the pitch black corridor, fear curdled in his satiated belly as images of her still frozen corpse flashed in his mind, making something as simple as opening the bedroom door the single hardest action he’d taken in years. Shaking with anxiety, Spike reached out his hand, wrapped it around the cool doorknob and eased the door open with an aching slowness.

Peering inside the darkened room, the heavy black drapes closed to keep out the early morning light, an unneeded breath hitched in Spike’s chest as his supernatural abilities detected movement from across the room. Hope flared deep inside as he reached out a trembling hand to flick on a nearby light, illuminating the room in a soft golden glow and bringing with it the most beautiful sight he could wish for…Buffy.

He crossed the room quickly, inhumane speed allowing his body to shoot forth and take her in his arms in a matter of seconds. Her pale, nude form trembled in his arms, weeping quietly into his chest and soaking the dark material of his shirt in her salty tears. Tentatively, he reached up and cupped the back of her head in his hand, stroking the golden tresses with the utmost of care as he placed a soft kiss to her temple. “Sshh, kitten…Spike’s got you now. Everything’s going to be all right, yeah?”

Buffy desperately wanted to reply to his kindness, his softly spoken words of safety and gentle caresses of comfort. Instead, her words spilled out of her mouth in a jumble of incoherent mumbles and hiccups, which were a downside to the tears of gratitude that spilled down over her cheeks. Hope filled her dead heart as she realized that the weight that had hung heavily on her shoulders had been lifted and she was truly saved from the horrid death the cancer had in store for her. She could live, albeit she was now confined to spend that life hidden away in the shadows of night, but she had also been given the chance to experience a life that she never would have known had she not been rescued by Spike.

Buffy tried to pull out of his arms, but only succeeded in inching her way further into his lap until she was cradled in his strong embrace. Cuddled against him, she buried her face in his neck, inhaling the tantalizing scent that was purely Spike; a heady combination of innate maleness, cigarettes and leather that was laced with a new smell that lingered there. Unconsciously, she tightened her hold on him, her tiny fingers pressed into the silkiness of his shirt, her nails bit deeply into his skin as she dug in and pulled him tight against her body. Sniffing along his neck, she followed the faint blue line of his vein that glowed beneath the pale flesh and lost herself in the delicious scent that seduced the demon that now lived deep inside her.

Spike’s body tensed when he sensed the change in Buffy; that minute switch from sweet, trembling girl to freshly risen fledgling in search of dinner. Raising his hands higher, moving them from the light hold around her waist, he grasped her shoulders and was surprised at her strength as she resisted being stopped from her pursuits. Using more of his strength, he pulled her away and was greeted with a fierce expression in her still green eyes and a deep growl of frustration. In spite of the situation, Spike couldn’t help but chuckle at her antics. His laughter quickly died in his throat when she all but snarled at him in rage, slipping easily into her demonic visage and snapping at him hungrily with razor sharp fangs. Pulling back out of her reach, he calmly said, “Easy there, kitten! I didn’t mean to piss you off, just couldn’t stop myself from laughing. You’re just too bloody adorable!”

With a quizzical gleam in her fiery amber gaze, Buffy cocked her head slightly to the side and glared at Spike. She recognized him, his scent, his touch, his beautiful azure eyes, but her body ached with the burning pain of hunger, causing her mind to reel and distort her surroundings. She wanted nothing more than to sink her fangs into the slim column of his neck, rip out that cool flesh and feast upon the rich, tangy blood that waited deep inside, yet there was a nagging sensation that warned her Spike wasn’t food, that their kind wasn’t what her taste buds longed for. Sighing loudly to show him she was exasperated, Buffy poked out her bottom lip and pouted like a petulant child sent to bed without dessert. “But I’m hungry!”

“I know you are, luv.” Spike replied softly, “And your patience will be rewarded, but I need to show you what to do before you feed.” Tilting his head to the side, giving her a wide berth and clear view of his jugular, he pulled one hand away from the cool skin of her shoulder and pointed to the soft skin where she would feed. “See the thick vein? That’s what you need to aim for, gently…no need to cause any unnecessary pain, yeah?”

“But, I thought I was supposed to like go out for…dinner?” She asked, confused and clearly at a loss for words over what to call the actual feeding process. “I mean, that’s what you were gonna do to me, right? So why aren’t you taking me out?”

“Mainly, and most importantly, because it’s daylight and we’d both be piles of dust shortly after walking out the door, but I promise to take you out later tonight. Right now, you need to learn how to feed, because I imagine you’re feeling a bit peckish, yeah? And, then, maybe draw a hot bubble bath for you to relax in for a bit?” He watched in pleasure as her face lit up with happiness at his suggestions, momentarily placated with the promise of the hunt and a leisurely bath after dinner, and wondered how he’d managed to wander the earth for so many years without her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Fourteen Years Later…


Spike lounged in the corner of the dimly lit hotel room, draped across the cheap fabric and idly puffed on a cigarette as he watched her with lust filled eyes. Their eyes connected, her green orbs burning deep inside his body, setting it on fire with the passion that filled the gaze. Instantly hardened with desire, he stubbed out the cigarette and licked his lips with anticipation when she motioned to him to join her. Wasting no time, he pushed out of the chair and crossed the room swiftly; shedding what little clothes he had on, his eyes never wavering from the writhing bodies that spilled across the crumpled bed.

Their conquest for the night gasped in surprise when he crawled onto the bed with them. Her curvaceous, tanned body burned between their cool flesh, her heavy breasts pressed against Buffy’s chest as the girl leaned into Buffy’s embrace. An intoxicated giggle escaped her when his arms snaked around her waist, his hands settling on his love’s hips to draw them both back towards him. Their beautiful prey sighed with desire as two sets of hands caressed her heated flesh. She wriggled against him and pressed the curve of her supple ass against his hardened length.

Spike gazed around the nameless woman, his amber eyes solely focused on the blonde across from him and smiled wickedly as she slipped into her demonic features. With the woman sandwiched between their bodies, they simultaneously lowered their heads to either side of their victim’s neck, licking and nipping lightly at the delicate skin at, eliciting breathy moans of ecstasy from the woman in their grasp. Striking suddenly, their fangs plunged deep within in the curves of her neck, pulling heartily on the rich, vibrant blood that spilled heavily into their awaiting mouths until finally, there was no more. The once life-filled beauty was drained, limp in their arms for a brief second before tossed aside, forgotten in death.

Full of stolen life, borrowed blood warmed their cool flesh, and flushed their pale skin with a rosy hue. Spike pulled her to him, lowered his face to hers and slowly, teasingly licked the last vestiges of blood from her full lips and relished in the feel of her body trembling in his arms. He easily lifted her from the bed, settling her eager body above his and plunged deep within her core, already wet and ready for him. Their bodies moved swiftly, thrusting against one another in a heated struggle to release the energy that radiated inside. Her nails raked painfully across his back, leaving a bloody trail in their wake as she cried out, her body shattering around his cock as she shook with release. Smashing his lips to hers, Spike thrust quickly, tearing into her body with an earth shattering quake and filled her with his cold, dead seed.

They fell to the side, their limbs tangled and twisted around one another; limp and completely satiated. Spike kissed her neck, the soft spot just below her ear and murmured sweet words of endearment, before pulling back to gaze into her once again green, human eyes. Fourteen years had passed, she should have been turning forty this year and yet, she remained the same as when he’d found her; fresh faced with the innocence of youth and cursed with a deadly fate. Gazing down at his love, the tiny slip of a woman that shared his craving for sex, violence and an unquenchable bloodlust, Spike leaned in and brushed feather light kiss on the lips and smiled contentedly as he thought about the rest of eternity…together.