Chapter 4 Worthy
Spike could see her clearly in the darkness, his sense of her within helping his other senses. She stood in the middle of the large empty space in the center of the building.
“Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum. I smell the blood…” He didn’t finish as she stood up smoothly and ran towards him, executing a flip before landing, crouching defensively, directly in front of him.
“Beautiful.” He breathed. Her movements were as fluid as a jungle cat and Spike was lost in the allure of her.
He knelt down so he could look her in the eyes. He searched them trying to discern what was going on inside her head.
He saw no sign of Buffy’s emotions in the gold depths, but he assumed by the fact that he wasn’t a pile of dust yet, she had to retain some of Buffy’s memories or she wouldn’t have ever let him get this close to her.
He began talking; hoping the sound of his voice speaking to her would call to her humanity.
“Looks like you’ve been a busy Slayer, path of dead demons and dust across two continents.”
Neither his tone nor his actions were threatening, so Buffy couldn’t decide if he was a friend or foe yet.
There was a war inside of her. Part of her yelled that he hunted down and killed her kind, even took pride in that fact. The other part of her remembered the vampire who fought by her side, and also knew that he had bested her, in times past, in fair fights and had good reason to be proud.
Spike watched her head tilt and saw confusion in her eyes. He had seen the same look on Illyria many times, as she tried to reconcile her nature with the world around her, finding it so completely foreign.
On Buffy, however, he found the look adorable. He noticed her bottom lip came out, slightly, in a pout. Very similar to the way it would when the Watcher would be rambling on about one thing or another that she didn’t understand.
Unable to help himself Spike reached out a hand slowly to trace that lip.
Buffy watched his hand coming towards her, but didn’t move to stop him. This also did not seem threatening, yet she didn’t relax her guard at all.
The feeling of his rough finger as it traced her lip made her chest feel tight; she swallowed and took a shaking breath.
Feeling the need to reassure herself that this was really the vampire she thought it was she grabbed his hand and brought it too her nose. She could smell the aroma of tobacco strong on the two fingers she remembered holding his cigarettes in, and under that was his own unique aroma. Her eyes almost closed as the tightness in her chest seemed to shoot down to her womb and again she took a deep breath.
Spike’s mouth literally began to water and his body began to shake when the scent of her arousal reached him. Buffy moved closer to him until only mere inches separated him. She released his hand and ran her fingers lightly over the ridges on his face. Spike felt the overwhelming urge to purr as she did this, but refrained, knowing he wasn’t out of danger yet.
Buffy was amazed that he was here. The part inside of her that demanded his death was quieter now, while the other part grew louder. This was her vampire it now yelled inside her. This was the vampire who fought by her side, who stood behind her no matter what. He had protected the ones she loved time and again.
Her Champion cloaked in black leather.
Both sides now convinced, Buffy grabbed the lapels of his coat to pull him towards her…then stopped.
This wasn’t right. This leather was crisp and unwrinkled. Gone were the well-worn, creases and small tears from her fingernails digging into the soft hide from when she grabbed him like this.
Instead of pressing her lips to hers as she had been planning Buffy lowered her head and sniffed the coat. Again it wasn’t right. This smelled strongly of leather, and only slightly of the vampire, as if he had not worn it long. The coat she remembered had long ago adopted his scent as its own and the faintest hint of leather was all that had remained.
She pulled back and yanked the coat off his shoulders, growling.
This wasn’t right!!!
“I know its not the same one.” Spike knew what was bothering her, Buffy quieted as she tried to understand the meaning of the noises coming from him. His tone was still gentle, she noticed.
“Mine was destroyed,” he chuckled. “By the Immortal, no less, when Peaches and I were in Rome. I got this one from Wolfram and Hart. It looks the same, but it really isn’t, is it?”
Buffy froze and her grip tightened.
Peaches=his name for the vampire she was hunting.
The Immortal=the one she had killed when he attacked her in her own bed.
Wolf, Ram & Hart=they were evil, she remembered this.
Rome=the city she had come from.
He was working with the evil ones to hunt her.
She threw him to the side before he could react to her change in demeanor.
She pulled the stake out of the rags on her body and prepared to face him.
He wasn’t going to have the chance to take a third Slayer.
After searching everywhere Wesley finally found Illyria in Fred’s old bedroom. He had to force himself to enter, not wanting to relive the last hours of Fred’s life again.
Except, now, the room now bore little resemblance to the comforting haven Fred had created for herself. Illyria had ripped the room apart and was rummaging through drawers and searching through Fred’s things. To Wesley she looked almost frantic.
“What is it you are trying to find?” He asked her trying to appear calm and unconcerned about her state.
Illyria did not answer her, just continued her explorations.
Wesley moved closer to her. “Illyria?”
“Humans are weak and stupid. Your emotions make you WEAK!!” She finally spoke.
“All right.” Wesley said slowly. He was used to these comments from her on a regular basis, but instead of being unimpassioned and superior, now her voice was defensive as if she didn’t quite believe it anymore.
“What has happened to upset you?”
This made her stop, her head came up sharply. “What makes you believe I am upset?”
“Your actions, the way you are speaking right now, many things.” Wesley eyed her. “The same things that told me you were trying to figure out how Willow’s body can contain such power and if you can use that to help your cause.”
Illyria threw the drawer she had been holding to the side and stalked up to him. “And you know these things because you can read them from my actions?”
“Its called body language.”
“Can everyone read me the way you do?”
“To some extent, but most don’t understand you that well.”
“But you do.” Illyria tilted her head and looked at him, trying to figure out once again, if Wesley meant her harm. She knew he still searched for a way to bring back Fred, but did that mean he wanted to destroy her as well?
“And I can also understand you and your body language. It is like a connection between us, this knowledge of each other. It is the same as the connection that ran between Spike and the Slayer downstairs.” She stated.
“Is that why you didn’t stop them when the raced past?” Wesley asked her.
She continued on as if he didn’t speak, her eyes didn’t even appear to see him anymore as she stared off into the distance. “I have all these…these…feelings inside of me. When I see you and I know that you don’t eat and sleep, I feel a pain inside of me. Sometimes in the quiet of the night when I am alone, I feel a different kind of pang inside me, as I crave some kind of physical contact and I wonder about you.” She stormed away from him.
“Are these emotions? How can that be? How can something that makes you so weak be so strong?”
Wesley said nothing; he was as confused as she was. He knew that these feelings she was having were probably just remnants left over from Fred. What he didn’t know was if the body retained some kind of memory from its previous occupant or if it was some small part of Fred still alive inside of her trying to come through.
Spike barely knew what happened. One second he thought Buffy was going to kiss him and the next he was flying through the air.
At least they were on familiar ground.
He rolled back to his feet and shed the coat that seemed to upset her so.
He saw her tense and pull a stake from somewhere. He barely had time to brace himself before she launched herself at him. He got his hands up in time to keep her from getting within staking distance, then used her own momentum to throw her behind him as he arched backwards.
She rolled and quickly got back to her feet. Knowing it was the only way he had a chance against her, Spike let his demon have full control.
He growled out a warning to her, but she took that as a challenge and growled low in her throat in response. They both waited a heartbeat and then launched themselves at each other.
Anyone watching these two, even in full light, would have been hard pressed to keep up with the speed things were happening.
Fists flew.
Legs kicked.
Inches gained and lost within seconds.
The only sounds were the thuds of the hits landed or were blocked and the occasional grunt from a well placed strike.
This went on for the next twenty minutes. Occasionally one of them would get an good enough grip on the other to throw them back, but they never came close to staying down and the fighting would resume before either would have time to take a breath.
Slowly though, the fight was changing its tone.
When both opponents realized that neither of them was gaining ground, they began to expand their moves of attack into more difficult maneuvers. When those also met with no results, they got experimental. Soon, they weren’t fighting to beat each other; instead they were enjoying just being able to use their skills to the fullest without having the gravity of a life or death situation. Openings that could have been utilized to take the other down were ignored, to instead try out a different type of kicking combination.
For Buffy, this was the joy she had been missing in Rome, the joy of fighting someone worthy of her skills. She could feel the blood inside her pounding through her body, she was covered in a light sweat and what was left of her clothes was now nothing more than small scraps held in place by nothing more than her damp skin.
Spike stood there in nothing but his jeans, his shirt had been ripped off earlier when she had used it to throw him. He could feel every muscle in his body tingling with excitement. He felt like he had been waiting his whole life to have this fight. It was incredible; he was working at his fullest capability, pushing his body harder than he ever had before. His demon was howling with happiness to be allowed out and in complete control. Even the small piece of the tender poet inside him could appreciate artistry of this dance they were performing.
As the fight relaxed Spike became aware of the steady drumbeat of Buffy’s heart, his demon could smell the sweat of her body calling to him almost as much as the aroma as her arousal. A sound came out of him, that Spike was certain he never heard from himself before. It wasn’t a growl and it wasn’t a purr, but something in between that came from deep in his chest.
Buffy felt a deep tremor rock through her whole body almost convulsed at the sound. Her breathing immediately picked up and she felt a dampness between her legs. Again the fight changed its tone. The movements were no less complicated and the hits were just as hard, but in between brutal hits there were caresses on skin. Holds were held longer as their bodies enjoyed the contact of being pressed together.
Then it happened, Spike threw a punch to Buffy’s face while at the same time kicking his leg out to sweep her feet. Buffy saw both coming and knew exactly what do to do avoid them easily.
She looked into his eyes.
She did something that she had never done before, either as Buffy or in her years as a Slayer. She let Spike take her down. She let him catch her.
Spike met her eyes even as his fist and foot connected, he knew she had just let him hit her and his demon immediately instinctively understood what to do. He grabbed her around the waist with his other arm before she could fall back too far and hauled her to him. He ground his erection, now painful as it surged against its denim prison, into the damp heat between her legs.
He lowered his head to her neck licking the salty skin once remembering her taste. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly and her body was rigid, not with fear or anger, but with deep craving. Small whimpers escaped her throat with every breath, begging, pleading with him.
He opened his mouth and breathed lightly on her skin turning her whimpers into a keening. Without anymore teasing Spike sunk his fangs into her soft skin on her neck. His hips thrust against her blindly while her powerful blood pulsed in his mouth.
Buffy felt as if there were a wire leading between her neck and down in between her legs directly on her clit. Every suck and nibble from Spike sent an electric bolt through her body that had her crying out in pleasure. Yet she needed more, every pulse made her realize how empty she felt, she needed him inside her, filling her up. Buffy released her grip on his shoulders, reaching between him to rip at the fastenings of his jeans.
Spike was completely unaware of what she was doing, too lost in the ecstasy that was her blood, that was now running through his veins spreading pleasure and warmth through out the inside of his body, like a shot of heroin. When he felt the sudden sensation of her wet heat, her strong internal muscles pulsing around it in answer to the its throbbing state he lost it completely.
They both fell to the floor as he began to push his hips against her hard, seeking to go deeper yet inside her as he emptied himself into her. She screamed, her muscles clamped around him tighter still causing him to come again. He finally removed his fangs from her neck and began kissing down her body as they began to move each against each other frantically. Their bodies slapped together as he drove into her over and over again. Her rocked from side to as cries and moans of pleasure escaped her lips. Spike struggled to keep his grip on her sweat soaked body and wound up grabbing her to him more tightly, arching her back and putting her nipple level with his mouth. He latched onto it, causing her to drive her hips back against him even harder, desperately seeking for the peak she was riding on the edge of. He sucked hard for a few moments then bit down with his fangs. The groaning wail filled him with pride, it the sound of satisfaction and triggered his own orgasm, while once again her powerful blood filled his mouth.
Spike licked around the bit to seal it shut before removing his mouth and lowering her gently to the ground. He lay on top of her holding her tightly to him as they both lay there, bodies shaking with emotions.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ok, I tried to do this fight scene a little different because I think I suck at fight scenes. This take on it came from a Circque Du Soliel I watched last night. I hope it comes across ok.