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Author's Chapter Notes:
Written for the wonderous Vampkiss - Mandi I hope you had a wonderful Birthday.

Massive thanks to Holly for betaing and to Tami and Stacy for the encouragment. For Schez for the final butt kicking into posting.
“Spike!”

She’d been smart. She’d been brave. But she was scared out of her wits even more.

As feral amber eyes found her and focused on her stake, he commanded his minions to stop, to let the humans—sheeplike and just as stupid—leave the bomb shelter so it was just her…and them. Slayer…and vampires. Slayer…and Spike.

“Down the stairs,” Buffy commanded, her voice hard in her effort to stem the fear that threatened to buckle her knees. Her hand shook, the stake scratching against the fabric of her hostage’s dress. Moving slowly, Buffy prepared to push the beautiful Dru down the steps into her companion’s arms when the vampiress startled her and spoke.

“We’ve made it now, my Spike. Always searching till I could find where you belong. The sun can shine upon you now; let you glow till you find that power. Don’t hurt the girl, my love. Be brave for Princess.” And the psychotic Dru fell forward onto the stake, the sharpened wood sliding easily through her skin and further as the weight of her body brought force into Buffy’s unintentional blow.

When nothing but dust separated them, Buffy looked at the vamp face in front of her in horror. Flinched from the shock and pain that held him still. Without words his minions knew his will and had attacked her at once, caught her and knocked her unconscious, his glowing eyes and the madness of Drusilla’s phrase the last things she knew as her world became black.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She never knew your insides could burn so hot that you felt like you could melt. Never knew that fear could manifest in a blinding fire that rendered limbs powerless and the beat of a heart almost tired. When Buffy opened her eyes, it was to a sight that made hope useless. Stripped her bare of any emotion but one that left her trembling, her eyes shining in fright she couldn’t hide and her legs shaking as they strained to keep her body standing.

Even in her lack of consciousness she’d known she was chained. Hung from the ceiling by heavy thick links that forced her to be still. Forced her arms apart until her shoulders ached and her head screamed in pain. And then her eyes cracked open and it was no longer just a fear inside her head; it was a fear her whole body could react to, and did.

She was in a room, a small space that held a bed in front of where she was held aloft, and a vampire staring at her with eyes beautiful in shade but glaring hate and menace. Buffy knew she would be dead—just like he wanted. Just like he’d come to Sunnydale to achieve. After what happened with Drusilla, she almost felt like she deserved it—deserved to be punished for killing the loved one of even a vicious vampire. Somehow, she didn’t think Angel would be of the happy with her either.

“Spike?” Her voice wavered, had lost its strength on the comatose journey from the bomb shelter where her friend had sold her out in favour of vicious immortality.

His eyes were red with grief and Buffy could feel something odd twist in her heart; she’d seen the power of his emotion when aimed at the dark vampires when he’d seen her in trouble. Seen it and was guardedly jealous of it. Still, she’d never forgotten what they were, and as obvious as her danger was now, she felt like giving up. She’d killed by accident and it should have made her want to gloat, flaunt the fact that she had destroyed a being that was a century and a half old. But she’d made a judgement on love, on devotion without meaning to and to see the anguish in the one left behind was too awful for her mind to hold.

She’d killed, like was her duty, and now she was in the path of retribution, and that was his right. That was his reward for being evil and for catching her off guard. She’d hold her head high, and die like a Slayer.

She swung back in the chains, her body reacting harshly to his as he pounced from the bed, lashing out until he’d slapped her face, relishing the welts that came up from the semi-deep scratches left by his nails. Then he collapsed at her feet. Feet bolted to the floor and chained so that she was suspended just centimetres off the floor. She was helpless, and it was fitting.

“I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done. I don’t know what the bloody hell she was on about but she was weak, not in her own mind to off herself like that on a Slayer’s stake.” And he found a knife and set to cutting her clothes from her body; pants falling to the floor and leaving her in her skimpy panties as his fangs sunk hard into her thigh.

Buffy cried out at the pain, tears rolling down her cheeks despite her avowal to herself to die like a warrior—with no admission of weakness. She knew what was going to happen. How could she not? Angel had only tonight told her what he had done before he’d turned Drusilla and she would be a fool to think Spike hadn’t been taught to torture in the same manner.

She felt his teeth scrape over her skin as he made it to her top, and suddenly it was ripped from her body, leaving her exposed to the cold and even colder sapphire eyes, gone dark with hatred.

“Dru liked to be touched. Do you like to be touched, Slayer?” His lips were curled in that hateful smirk, even though he revealed the pain behind the actions with the glassiness of his gaze.

Buffy could see so much in him that she’d never thought she would have ever cared to observe. This was no emotionless demon. How had she thought that pain for them would be physical, that they would react to a wound but something of the heart was out of their depth without a soul? This vampire held agony in his heart like her friends had at the loss of Jesse. Showed such overwhelming grief to her that she didn’t deserve to see. He was showing her his weakness and she was defiant about her own. Again she was acting wrong; she nodded in answer to his question.

“Yes, Spike. I like to be touched.”

He looked at her in shock, his lip beginning to tremble the longer he tried to keep strong, and watched her as she stripped herself bare to him, let the block on her emotions slip and revealed her own fear and hurt to one who would take advantage.

The growl started in his chest like an irritating itch, yet as she stood there and looked at him in silent apology, it fuelled his hate, made him want to bite her and fuck her and hit her till she passed out, and then do it all over again. He roared in outrage that a Slayer could soften his intentions with watery eyes and a display of vulnerability. She was meant to fight, even if caught and apparently helpless.

The bra was ripped from her body and his fangs penetrated the flesh, biting viciously into the padded softness of her breast as his other hand squeezed its partner painfully. Buffy screamed, her body flaming in hot, excruciating pain. He dragged his mouth from the wound as his hand grabbed her hair, dragged her head to the side and left her waiting for another of his punishing bites, leaving her to wonder if this was the one that would leave her breathless.

Buffy didn’t struggle, knowing it was her fate to eventually die at the hands of one of these monsters, but she wanted him to know before he took her life, wanted him to believe that what had happened had not been her intention.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chin, closing her eyes as he gave another roar of ferocity and buried his fangs in her throat, the ticking pulse rapid against the piercing pain of his pointed fang. And then it drifted and ticked slower, leaving her feeling drained and resigned. Then she passed out.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heaven looked a lot like the bedroom Spike had had her chained in before he drained her life away. Big difference was the comfy bed, and the shaking body that was reclining beside hers, wracked with sobs.

“Spike?” she asked, her voice raspy with the lack of strength that came with perishing by losing all your blood. “Not that it’s not nice to see a familiar face, but how come they let you into Heaven with me?”

“I offered to bite all the angelic traitors. Are you off your bleeding nut? I didn’t off you yet. You’re not in Heaven, Sunshine.”

Something struck him, a word that was now bouncing around his skull and joined the one that stopped his strong gulps of the girl’s blood just before he took it too far. ‘Sunshine. Don’t hurt the girl.’ Dru and her cryptic messages. It really pissed him off. Somehow she didn’t want him to kill the Slayer, yet he couldn’t help but take out his building fury on the one who held a stake to his dark princess’s chest.

“Oh,” was her belated answer. Buffy couldn’t deny that her head was more cottonwool than usual, but even she thought this reprieve was odd. Why didn’t he kill her? It’s not like she wouldn’t have driven a stake through anyone who had killed Angel. Well, like she might have done before he did the emotional blackmail thing and forced her to verbally commit to feelings she wasn’t sure she felt.

“You’re bleeding.” He shocked her with the obvious but she didn’t have the energy to do anything but raise an eyebrow. She couldn’t even muster up any fear when he buried his head at her throat once again and licked the wound clean, placing a pad of cloth over it and pressing a little hard to stop the flow of blood.

Buffy hated to admit it, but his cool tongue had felt kind of nice; soothing against the fire in her skin that came with the blinding flashes of pain that came with being attacked by sharp implements.

“Could-could you do that to the other wounds?” Buffy looked quickly at the one that had mutilated her breast and instead of anger, she flushed red with embarrassment.

He didn’t answer, just moved over her so that he could gently take the torn flesh into his mouth and bath her clean with his tongue. Buffy was incapable of keeping back the moan of pleasure she felt at having her skin cared for in such a manner, and despite the fact that she had evil lathering her naked skin, she felt the beginnings of arousal.

It was sick. She was insane, but as he nudged her nipple with his tongue and gulped her flesh into his throat, all thoughts of violent death escaped her mind to huddle in that darkened corner she’d pushed Angel into after the forced ‘I love you’ declaration earlier that night. For reasons that escaped her at this minute, she had felt more violated being put on the spot like that than she had being stripped and mauled by her enemy.

The peroxided head lifted; he refusing to look at her while he covered her with another square of cloth, a thumb just feathering over the other puckered nipple so softly she thought she imagined it in this unsure state.

“And—“ Before she could ask his lips were on the inside of her thigh, a vampire kiss in reverse as his tongue made gentle swirls over the twin needle marks, his hand absently stroking the small square of fabric between her legs.

Buffy felt her body shudder even as her legs unconsciously fell further apart. Her eyes were closed and she was lost to the sensation of his cool tongue, feeling the tightening of her body as he stroked her clean. Buffy couldn’t help herself as she dug her heels into the bed, lifting her hips slightly to encourage something—she didn’t quite know what.

It was with shock that she jolted as her panties were harshly ripped from her body and a mouth buried deep in her pussy, tears falling fast as a cold wet tongue delved into places she didn’t know existed, the rough surface driving her mad with need for something she was only just learning made her body feel good. Despite her weakness she felt her fingers tangle in his hair, both trying to get him away from her as well as make him stay, make him give her something, soon…now…please.

It was there, just out of reach as he feasted on her clit, his mouth suctioning the stretchy organ until she writhed. Almost at release he pulled himself away, his eyes turned golden in fury as he abruptly unzipped his pants and grinned as Buffy’s eyes went wide and she moved up the bed in fear. He grabbed her ankles and yanked her back down, quickly ridding himself of his jeans as he rejoined her, hands strong on her hips as he held her down.

The rounded curve of his cock made her cry as it nudged her thigh, slipped over her thoroughly moistened pussy and stretched her entrance almost painfully.

“Spike, please don’t. I’ve never—“ Before she could blink he had her hands in cuffs and tethered to the bedhead.

“I know that, sweetheart. You said you were sorry, now you can show me how much.” And he pushed his cock till Buffy screamed her protests, her pussy walls jittering in objection even as fluid gushed to make his slide more bearable.

“Spike, please stop. You’re hu-hurting me.”

“Not now, Pet.” He thrust into her deep, his hands wandering from her hips now she was captured and finding the hard points of her nipples, letting his palms rub over them as his cock undulated against her.

Sensation turned brilliantly intense; she saw colours, felt ridges as his cock rubbed her emotions raw but slicked her good. Buffy could feel her mind detaching, drifting up and watching as this monster took her against her will, but lovingly treated her body as a gift, his hands not painful as he teased her tender nipples. Watched as he drifted down to lift her legs around his waist and moved closer so he could thrust slowly, her hips lifted to an angle for deeper penetration and opening her up for all sorts of wonders.

When he leaned forward and sucked a nipple hard into his mouth, Buffy felt herself fall back to coherency. All three bite marks seared her, her pussy shuddering around him as the sensation of him inside her made her insides heat to boiling. She could feel the flush all over, could feel the tightening of her own legs as she held him, her tears drying up as he thrust into her slowly.

He released her aching nub with a sloppy ‘pop’, watching her almost shyly as he slowed the movement of his hips even more. His eyes were as clear as crystal, a blue flame that took her to the edge of fire with a lust look. His rough thumb pad found her clit just as he asked, “Still hurt, luv?”

Buffy shook her head, not knowing what to do now that the slowness that stretched her wide with no pausing in the build-up made her want to writhe beneath him and clutch his hair.

It felt good and she felt almost grateful that such an animal could be so gentle with her during something so evil. It released her, this taking of her when so long she had been dancing around the act with Angel.

And this sensation was divine; this pleasurable feeling of having thickness invade her and moving so slowly. It was almost driving her out of her mind, and she wished she could see. Wished that her first time—and likely only time—wouldn’t be such a teenage cliché. Dashed in darkness and mystery. She wanted to know what he was doing to her, and she wanted him to see that if this was how she could help make him feel better about losing Dru…well, she wasn’t begrudging the act.

But she was young; she didn’t know the etiquette, let alone that with a master vampire like Spike. She let him slide in her, eyes pleading for him to understand, to know she was okay if her mind and Slayer were objecting to it all. As she watched, he ripped the rest of his clothing off, his chest finally becoming bare to her watery gaze as he tossed the tee across the room. Then he slid up her body and she felt the barest brush of her breasts against his chest, felt his cool breath at her ear as it teased her hair.

And was blasted with an almost uncontrollable urge to turn her head and let her lips brush his. Her mind was lost to the fantasy, her heartbeat pounding in her chest even at the thought of their mouths meeting for something so sweet as a kiss. When Buffy felt the sudden fall of her hand as it was released from a cuff, she immediately used it to tangle in his curls, her eyes drifting open in some drugged haze to find her fantasy real, and he was loving her with his mouth.

Yet it was a lie. He didn’t love her; didn’t even like her. Was using her as nothing but a vessel to assuage his grief. And when had she ever cared what he felt and what he did? He was evil. Spike, a monster that would kill her as surely as her name was Buffy. Her enemy.

And yet she was becoming lost in the soft way his lips moved against her own, felt her head go fuzzy as his tongue met hers. Felt every defence shatter and run as the kiss—slow and sure—echoed the rhythm of his cock as it swelled and rolled inside her.

Her other hand was released and it went straight to the curly wonder of peroxided locks, holding him so close as she lost her mind to his mouth. It was so much sensation—much more than she’d ever experienced. Her body fighting to claim something new, to accept some delightfully explosive shivers as they bounced around her body, preparing her for something so huge she had no words. Buffy knew the words, had had her own small self-induced ones after trying out some Cleo tips, but had never thought such fierce rightness could ever be achieved in her long, slow exploration of feelings with Angel. Now she had it here, trapped in a body that wanted to lose all boundaries and scream to the world how amazing she felt.

The kiss got a little rougher, Spike moaning into her mouth as his teeth nibbled on her lips, his hips moving a little faster and causing a friction against pussy walls that eagerly encased him. Then he broke roughly away, gasping in air he didn’t need and quickly diving in to deliver peppered kisses over her throat and breasts.

“Do you wanna see? Want to see me pound into you?” He was trying to shock her, trying to claim back the control over this vicious act that had lost its animalistic fervour almost as soon as he’d penetrated her and nearly burned to death.

“Please,” she whimpered and it didn’t quite sound like the plea for mercy that he’d been counting on.

Without leaving her body, he sat her up in his lap then shuffled forwards so she was leaning against the head of the bed, some gentlemanly remnant dictating he ensure her comfort as he loaded soft pillows behind her back. He pushed two under her and then had her sit back, catching her eyes in his as he slowly looked down at his cock being sucked by her newly initiated slickened lips.

Spike felt angry at how her eyes seemed to eat up the sight, how she seemed to push out her breasts a little as she watched his cock sink into her and slowly pull out, the sucking sound as he did audible to both of them. The Slayer was breathing heavily, her heart and blood were racing, and his cock was swollen to almost unbearable widths on the power of his consumed Slayer blood. He wanted to bite her again, feast on her blood until she was an unresponsive corpse beneath his body, but words held him back. Kept him on an edge of furious outrage that he was doing this, sharing himself with the woman that took his salvation away.

Even if he knew it wasn’t her fault.

He wanted it to be. Wanted so much to blame her and hit her and cut her till she bled out all over the bed. But a sense of fairness wouldn’t let him. He’d been lost in cold fury, taking it out on this little blonde when he knew it was his Dru who had made the decision. Had played kamikaze vampire on a skewer as she uttered strange prophetic words that he knew better than to ignore.

So, she’d brought him to this place. Introduced him to a purpose she’d not mentioned since the night she’d made him a monster. So all he had to do was find his sun, and he tried to work the riddle as he looked into the face of one of the loveliest humans he’d seen in a long time. And she wasn’t clawing and biting at him; wasn’t fighting for her freedom from his brutal invasion of her body. She was watching his glistening cock as it joined with her, seemingly mesmerised by the motion of his pole moving back and forth.

And then she reached out her little hand and slid warm fingers over him as he moved, stroking him almost lovingly as he slid all the way out. He stayed out for seconds, gasping as she let her hand drift and cup his balls, looking up suddenly to make sure it was okay. Then she pulled on his sack and he was moving within her again and he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it when he fell forward and his lips found hers again.

She burned him like the sun—her beauty, her goodness. Her acceptance and her enthusiasm. She made something inside him shine, gave him a sense of power he hadn’t felt since that first night he’d encountered Dru. Felt earlier that night long ago when he was all buoyed up with the possibility of love.

As the riddle cleared and made sense, he sucked on her tongue, feeling tears slip from behind his closed lids and wrapped her in his arms. Her body shivered against his, her legs wound tight around his waist as his thrusts finally sped up, needing finally to gain a release that would put an end to this and work out what the beginning would be. He was insane for even thinking there could be one.

He was evil. A predator that fed on her world, and yet he wanted to be a part of her.

But how could he? He’d robbed her of her innocence for the selfish motive of making her pay for something she wasn’t responsible for. As he made a decision, he felt himself swell, stretching her walls to the brink as he pulsated against her, kissing her deeply as he came. He found her sensitive pulse and stroked her, feeling the sense of doom as she squeezed him tighter, held her shuddering body against his as he released tears into her neck.

They breathed against each other, Spike reluctant to let her go for the relief it gave him to touch her. Buffy clinging to him with the joy of the most intense sexual experience of her life. He felt the twitch of her lips against his shoulder, nearly jumping out of his skin when he felt tiny human teeth sink into his flesh and her beautiful mouth suck some of him into her. It was enough to hope—but not enough to change his mind.

He pulled away, a sincere look of apology in his eyes as he slowly leant forward and gently kissed her lips. Then he located what he needed beside the bed on the floor and placed it in her hands, turning his back once and for all and reclined on the bed.

Turned his back on a Slayer and her stake.





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